CHAPTER FOUR

The Vexation of Lecherous Portraits

"Ah yes, um, yes, of course. Um - you are, Miss, um, Mademoiselle - ?"

"Delacour."

Percy paused half way as he made to sit down in his chair again.

"Delacour? Miss Fleur Delacour?"

"Why yes," she replied, in a thick French accent. She slid gracefully into the chair facing him. "Excusez-moi, but, do I know you?"

"Oh, no, no, not at all," he replied, hastily. "But I believe we met briefly during the Triwizard Competition at Hogwarts about two years ago. I was one of the judges, in place of Mr Crouch."

Fleur's face broke into a wide smile, and she laughed, a beautiful, lyrical laugh, tossing her head back. Soft blonde curls bounced around her face. "Ah yes, I remember. The Weasleys, of course. You 'ave a large family, monsieur, non?"

Percy spluttered again. "Um, well, no, not me personally, no, I - I - "

"Are you married, monsieur?"

"Um, well, I, yes, I suppose so."

"You suppose so?" she repeated, curiously. "Either you 'ave a wife, or you don't."

"Um, yes, well." Percy closed his mouth and shook himself. "Yes. Yes, I have a wife. My Penelope."

"Ah!" she exclaimed, edging a little closer to the desk. "And 'ave you been married long?"

"Er, a month or two."

"Oh, newly-weds! C'est magnifique!"

Percy volunteered a nervous laugh.

"Tell me," she went on. "Are you the only Weasley to be married?"

"So far, yes. I mean, my brothers Fred, George and Ron are still far too young for that sort of thing, you know - "

"But you 'ave uzzer bruzzers also, non?"

Percy felt thoroughly disconcerted by now, and was ten times hotter than he'd been before the arrival of this beautiful young French girl.

"Bill and Charlie? Oh, they're - " He cleared his throat, awkwardly. "They're abroad still, though we expect them back any day now."

Fleur leaned back again, thoughtfully.

"Charlie. Is he the dragon Weasley?"

Percy couldn't stifle a chuckle. "Well, yes, I suppose he is."

"Oui, I remember. The Welsh Green." She shivered slightly.

"And Bill works for Gringotts. Not actually sure what he does, to be honest."

Fleur smiled. "And your family is all togezzer this summer? How nice!"

"Well, not quite yet. My younger brothers are expecting some friends along very shortly, and I believe my grandmother is coming at some point too." Percy visibly blanched at the very word 'grandmother'. He took a long gulp of coffee.

"You are not looking forward to your grandmuzzer's visit?"

Percy coughed again. "Oh, no, it's not that, exactly. She's just a little, um, well - difficult to handle." He sighed. "Yes, I'm in for an interesting summer."

"It sounds delightful." She batted her long eyelashes and smiled dazzlingly at Percy.

He swallowed. "Well, if you've got the time - " He closed his eyes and sighed. "I can't believe I'm about to say this. Why don't you come back for dinner tonight?"

"Why did I do that? Why did I do that? I must be out of my tiny mind!" Percy was muttering to himself as he made his way briskly through the wide cloisters of the Ministry of Magic down to the concierge in the entrance hall.

"Weasley? You all right?" An aging wizard had put a hand on Percy's shoulder as they passed.

"Hmm? Oh, yes, I'm fine thankyou, Mr Fitzherbert. Got a lot on my mind."

Percy hastily manoeuvred through the throng of people making their way out of offices and conference rooms. Inwardly cursing every aspect of human nature known to mankind, he thrust his way to the very messy and distinctly lop-sided reception desk.

"Afternoon, Mr Weasley," said the witch sitting behind it, brandishing her wand rather violently as she filed away various documents and files. "Just off home?"

Percy grunted. "Any messages from Hieronymus?"

"No, sir, not a peep. Are you in again tomorrow, sir?"

"So it seems," replied Percy, through gritted teeth.

"Ah, there you are, Percy!"

Percy turned round sharply, almost dropping his briefcase. Fleur was smiling up at him, flicking back a loose strand of hair that had fallen over her face. She had changed since her lunchtime interview in Percy's office into a diaphanous floral dress with a perilously low neck-line. A long, silk scarf was tied fashionably round her neck and slung over her shoulder, and she was wearing a pair of stilettos heels that showed off her slender legs and Riviera tan to perfection.

Behind her, on the panelled wall, the Ministers and officials of centuries gone by winked and wolf-whistled in their portraits. One rather youthful Minister in a shoulder length white wig and very effeminate doublet and hose was practically foaming at the mouth. Percy snorted in disgust. "Oi, you lot! Behave yourselves in front of a lady, if you please!"

A very dignified witch, obviously Muggle-born, for she was wearing a grey suit and carrying a briefcase, frowned dispprovingly as she passed. "Shocking, absolutely shocking!"

Percy was blushing again, thoroughly embarrassed. Besides, he had only just started wondering how he was going to justify the presence of his impromptu, not to mention excessively beautiful, guest to Penny.

"I'm terribly sorry, Miss Delacour. They have no manners at all."

"Oh, Fleur, please. I don't mind, really, but thankyou for being so chivalrous." She smiled. "Are you ready to Apparate now?" she asked, with a laugh. That beautiful, musical laugh that reminded Percy of balmy summer evenings and tinkling brooks.

"Yes," he managed to choke out. "Yes, of course."

The sun was hanging lazily in the sky over the meadow, still bright and warm. In a half-hearted attempt to get some holiday work done while they had the chance, Ron, Ginny and Harry lay stretched out on the grass, most of their books still firmly closed by their sides.

"Wish Hermione was here," said Ron, shielding his eyes from the glare.

Harry almost jumped out of his skin in shock. "What?"

"I could use her brain right now."

"Oh, that's really nice, Ron!" exclaimed Ginny, poking him in the ribs sharply.

"You know what I mean. It's a stinker of an essay Snape gave us to do last term. I bet he got it out of some several thousand year old tome in the Restricted Section, which would explain why none of us can do it."

"You don't know that, Ron. It's only you and Harry that can't do it."

"Shut up, Gin."

"I could give it a fair stab if I wanted to," Harry objected. Then he saw Ginny's eyebrow arching and her very dubious expression. "I just don't want to," he added, with a laugh.

"What's got you so hooked up on work all of a sudden?" asked Ron. "You're turning into Hermione!"

"I could do a lot worse," replied Ginny. "You two don't appreciate her, you know."

Ron raised his head slightly, and looked at his little sister with utter perplexity. "We appreciate her!" he said, belligerently. "Don't we, Harry?"

"I'd say we do," he assented.

"No you don't! You treat her like some kind of personal encyclopedia!"

Harry smirked as Ron blushed profusely.

"We don't like her just for her brain, you know," he mumbled.

Ginny tossed the remnants of the daisy she'd been picking at onto Ron's chest. "Hmm - perhaps you'd better make sure she knows that before we go back to school."

"Was there any doubt?" exclaimed Ron, dramatically.

He didn't spot the sudden guarded look that appeared in Ginny's eyes just then. But Harry did. He refrained from comment, but filed the thought away in his mind for future consideration.

"Dinner's ready, everyone!" called Mrs Weasley from the patio.

"Oooh, alfresco today," observed Ginny, looking over her shoulder at the long table arranged underneath a slightly wobbly gazebo.

She rose to her feet in a swift movement, and dusted the stray daisy petals off her jumper.

"Give us a hand, Gin?" Ron entreated, holding his arm out to be pulled to his feet.

"You're a lazy git, Ron," she said, good-naturedly. But she obliged.

"Pity another lazy git?" said Harry, grinning. Ginny stood over him, smiling slightly, silhouetted in the golden sunlight. Pure country girl, Harry thought, as she hauled him up. All that was missing in her rustic appearance was a crimson poppy to put in her hair.

Lost in his thoughts again, Harry didn't notice that he was still holding one of Ginny's hands until they were half way across the meadow.

"Oi, none of that, thankyou," Ron said, reprovingly. "I'm not a third wheel."

Was she blushing? Harry glanced at Ginny's face in the golden light. He couldn't tell.