Chapter four: To join, or not to join, that is the question -- the girls
'Flourish and Blotts' was a large shop, larger than it seemed from the front, and offered a far wider variety of goods than most people were aware. At the very front, just after opening the door, parchment and quills were sold along with every non-fiction magic book ever published stacked in neat piles. This was known by every witch or wizard who'd ever attended Hogwarts, which was every witch and wizard with few exceptions. A few rows back however, the writing turned fictitious, and past that, strange little trinkets were sold: rememberalls, cribbing cuffs, revealers and other such oddities. Near the back, where people seldom went and the atmosphere had the same placid serenity as a library, was the art supplies.
Luna ran her hand over a line of brushes, dissatisfied by all but a few and trying to decide which to buy. In took her many minutes, but she eventually held the candidate she considered the best in her hand. Then she needed to buy two new pencils. Pencils are not, of course, often used in the wizarding world -- but the idea that they could be supplanted by so inflexible an instrument as a scratching, leaking quill was preposterous. When Luna finally decided on everything, which took the best part of the morning, she proceeded to the till were a cheerfully smiling witch helped her pack before announcing the price.
Luna wandered dreamily along Diagon Alley, aiming vaguely for 'The Quibbler's' office to say hello to her father before apparating over to the meadows to break in her new art supplies. The meadows were a few hundred metres from her house, and her favourite place on Earth. Grass grew high and the air was sweet with the scent of a thousand flowers. Even when it rained, the meadows seemed brighter and more cheerful than its surroundings. It was a true paragon of nature for those who wished to draw it as Luna did.
At the back of her mind Luna sometimes worried that her infatuation with art and nature severed her connection from the rest of the world. Certainly when she wasn't sketching or painting she was thinking about sketching and painting, more precisely, she was thinking of how best to capture the next plant or animal or scenery. Her fascination with the beauty of the natural world made the human world seem rather dull in contrast, and, try though she would, she couldn't kindle the same interest with people, and the passionate side of her personality got rather lost.
Somebody knocked into Luna on the street suddenly.
"I am so sorry, I was not concentrating!" the offender said in an airy tone that made one wonder whether she was sincerely contrite. The woman gave Luna the briefest look then stopped and looked at her properly. "Wait," she said. "You were there zat night, weren't you? Luna, I theenk your name is."
Luna looked at the woman. She had long blonde hair, not bimbo blonde, but a rare shade of silvery-gold that seemed unnatural. Her skin was very pale and seemed to glow oddly, as if she'd drunk radioactive water, and her eyes were like large cut blue diamonds. Luna had seen her the day before last, at that strange little house in muggle London.
"I was there," Luna said.
"Do you want to 'ave coffee with me?" Rarely surprised, Luna was surprised by this. She nodded, seeing no reason to object; Fleur linked her arm with Luna's in an over-friendly way and lead her to a small but very chic coffee shop just at the edge of Sweetheather Alley.
"Are you going for eet?" Fleur asked anxiously as she pulled Luna along.
Luna had not decided this yet. In all honestly, she had quite forgotten about it.
"I don't know," Luna admitted.
"Me neither," Fleur fretted as they walked through the glass doors of 'Je ne se quoi'.
"French names sound so elegant," Luna commented, glancing up at the sign.
"Eet just means 'I don't know what'," Fleur said in her dismissive way. "A cappuccino, Eli," Fleur called to a gawky-looking woman with strawberry blonde hair pulled back into a painfully tight bun. The woman smiled, nodded and glanced questioningly at Luna who said,
"Just a coffee, please."
"Eli is one of my dearest friends 'ere in Eengland, though I do not feel I can tell 'er of zis," Fleur said as she gracefully deposited herself on a chair near the window. "Can you tell your friends of it?"
"I don't really have that many friends," Luna commented mildly. Fleur blinked and though she had never felt a gram of embarrassment in her entire life, what she felt now was pretty similar. "I didn't tell my father, though. I tell him most things but not this. Mostly because I forgot about it, but I don't think I would have anyway."
"Eet does feel like eet should be a secret," Fleur said, half to herself. She sighed and tossed her silvery mane dramatically over her shoulder. "Of course, what I really wish to speak with you about eez ze difficult matter of whether or not I should join." She sighed pathetically. "Will you do so?"
"I will, I think," Luna said, not knowing quite why. She suddenly felt a desire to be closer to other people; apart from her father and the DA, her experience with others of her species was limited and superficial.
"I just cannot decide," Fleur murmured, gazing into her cappuccino as if hoping to find some sort of truth in its depths.
"Eet seems as though eet will be dangerous."
"Probably, yes," Luna shrugged.
"You do not care," Fleur asked, noticing her casual tone.
"I don't fear death. What is there to fear? There's nothing to hold me back from joining."
"You 'ave enough time?"
"I only work part-time as an illustrator for 'The Quibbler'. What about you?"
"I don't work; I am married." A flush of pale pink stole across Fleur's face at these words.
"You wish you did work?" Luna asked with uncharacteristic perceptiveness.
"I did not care vairy much at first. But being so dependant on anuzzer person is depressing after a while, even if zat person eez my 'usband. Some women, like my muzzer-in-law, are perfectly satisfied with zat existence, but I feel more and more frustrated and a little pointless."
Luna nodded absently.
"I've never really had much respect for housewives." Fleur nodded glumly and put her head on the table.
"I 'ad twelve NOMs, which is like your OWLs, all 'igh passes. I was a triwizard champion. Now I am an 'ousewife."
"More reason to join Pelopidas."
"You theenk?" Fleur asked, unsure.
"You would do it well, I know that much." Luna gave her the ephemeral, strange smile that was distinctive of Luna Lovegood. "I have to go, I promised my dad I'd bring him my pictures my half past two. Thanks for the coffee, this has been very nice." She stood up, fished out a few sickles and put them on the table, and then left.
Fleur looked at the cold remainders of her drink in her hand and allowed her mind to drift tentatively over to the idea of accepting Mr Wesley's offer. She had never truly considered it until her conversation with Luna: she was just pretending to consider something to which she knew the answer had to be 'no'. But...
Why did have to be 'no'? Why couldn't she seriously consider changing her life for the better? Fleur's pulse quickened at the thought. It seemed like something exciting and reckless, certainly not something she would ever do. Even before she married, her life had been glamorous, certainly, but always safe. Partly because her mother had furnished her with the idea that woman were a purely ornamental sex -- what did Fleur need an adventure for? Marie Delacour had not been happy when Fleur had entered the Triwizard Tournament (such a boyish activity, Fleur, couldn't you just date the champion?) and she was completely unfazed by her daughter's brilliant grades (what do you need them for, your husband will earn the money; in fact it's a hindrance, you know how men dislike it when you're cleverer than they are!).
"Thinking deep thoughts, Fleur?" Eli teased sitting down heavily. "It's my break now, thank God! Mind if I join you?"
"My muzzer always told me zat deep thoughts were inappropriate for girls."
"That sounds crap."
"Eet eez," Fleur mused. She glanced at her watch. "I should go, Bill and I are meant to go to ze Burrow soon."
"See you later then," Eli yawned, taking a deep swig of tea.
Fleur disapparated and reappeared in her living room where Bill was sitting with 'Transfiguration Today' opened on his lap.
"You took long enough!" he snapped. "I thought you only wanted a new pair of shoes!"
"I ran eento a friend," Fleur sighed, his bad humour washing over her without effect. "We 'ad coffee."
"That's nice," Bill said. The fact that he spat the statement negated it.
"Are we going?" Fleur asked heavily.
"Yeah, in a second," Bill grumbled. "Accio cloak!"
"Hello, dears!" Molly beamed. "I haven't seen you in ages."
"Yeah, sorry, Mum, we've been busy," Bill grinned and kissed his mother on the cheek.
"Well, never mind. Will you be staying for Sunday Dinner? Ron and Harry and Hermione are all coming over."
"Of course we will stay," Fleur said automatically before Bill could refuse. Bill cast her a sulky, annoyed glance but she didn't care. She needed to break Bill's habit of avoiding crowds no matter how small. Molly smiled and continued to bustle about the kitchen.
"That smells nice," Ron's voice said appreciatively as the kitchen door swung open.
"Thanks, dear. It will be another hour yet, though."
"We can play Quidditch in the meantime... hey Bill, want to join?" he asked suddenly catching sight of his brother.
"Yeah, all right."
"I theenk I will seet eet out," Fleur said quickly.
"Me, too," Hermione added. "But I'm sure Ginny will play with you. She's home for Easter, isn't she Mrs Weasley?"
"Yes, she's in her room at the moment. GINNY!" she yelled.
"What?" called a voice and there was a heavy patter of feet running down stairs.
"Want to play Quidditch?" Ron asked brightly, typically oblivious of the sudden awkward silence.
Ginny looked a little hesitant but, seeing Harry looking aghast, she said, "yes," in a defiant sort of way. "By the way, how's the Horcrux search that I'm not good enough to join going?"
Now even Ron could tell that it would be a difficult game but it was too late; Ginny was already leading the way out into the garden. Harry looked at Ron helplessly who shrugged, looking equally helpless. Bill followed, looking curious. Molly was humming a Celestina Warbeck tune loudly as she cooked, loud enough for Hermione to whisper to Fleur,
"Are you joining?"
"I 'aven't quite decided. Probably. And you?"
"Yes. There was never any doubt in my mind. People need help and I can offer it."
"Eet eez more complicated, you know zat."
"Of course I know it; but it doesn't change the fact that we're being given a chance to save lives, a chance that I can't just ignore. If I could ignore it do you think I'd be helping Harry?"
"No. I understand 'ow you feel, but..." Fleur sighed dramatically. "I am not unselfish enough to join wizzout theenking eet over."
"I'm not as much unselfish as crazy," Hermione said with a small smile. Fleur laughed. "You say you'll probably join -- apart from moral obligation, what's making you lean in that direction?"
"Boredom and vanity, I am afraid," Fleur said. "I 'ave ze feeling zat I can do sometheeng better zan..." she trailed off. Hermione had no idea how to answer and so was quite glad when there was a gentle knock on the door.
"Come in -- oh, Percy!" Molly's eyes lit up at the sight of the tall young man standing in the doorway. Hermione's head snapped quickly to the right to see that Percy was indeed there.
"Hello, Mother," Percy said in the typically formal way he addressed his family. He didn't mean to much of the time but he had never been totally at ease with these people who, though his flesh and blood, were nothing like him.
"Sit down, dear," Molly gushed. "You'll be staying for dinner. You're looking so thin!"
"I'll stay," Percy assented and took a seat next to Fleur and Hermione. Molly continued to cook with greater alacrity than ever; having over half of her children at home where she could keep an eye on them happened so rarely.
"Well?" Percy all but demanded once Molly had turned away.
"This is unusual," Hermione commented cattily. "We're graced with your presence."
"What will you be doing about this Society of Pelopidas?" Percy asked ignoring Hermione.
"That's why you showed up!" Hermione's eyebrows resembled McDonald's arches. "I should have known better than to think you cared for your family."
"Not the time, Hermione," Percy said, his voice stiff but his eyes flashing with the same dangerous anger that had caused such problems for him.
"There is no right time," Hermione said with a cynical laugh. "Not that it's any of my business that you're not speaking to your family but-"
"I'm not exactly not speaking to them! Since it was proven that You-Know-Who's back I haven't not spoken to them; I've avoided more contact than necessary, it's true, but it hasn't been a pleasant atmosphere with me here, as you can imagine."
Fleur thought back to the Christmas before last: it had not been a pleasant atmosphere. She hadn't blamed Percy for not wanting to be there. With the exception of Molly, it was fairly clear that he was not wanted.
"Maybe if you apologised?" Hermione said sarcastically, but her expression had softened considerably.
"What do you expect? A speech? Some sort of public announcement about the depth of my regret? Look, I did apologise to my father for being mistaken -- not an adequate apology I'll admit. But it'll take a lot more than words for my family to accept
me as a part of them again. I'm just not sure how to prove myself to them, so I tend to avoid them."
"Being mistaken?" Hermione repeated incredulously. "A bit of an understatement, don't you think? And didn't you apologise for the awful things you said to him."
"Were you there?" Percy challenged.
"No, but-"
"Then you can't comment. I suppose you heard my siblings' account of the row? You trust that there wasn't some hyperbole in their telling?"
Hermione remained uncertainly silent. She had to admit that, riled as they were at Percy, exaggeration would have been a fairly easy trap to fall into.
"And they made it pretty one-sided, didn't they? They told you all the bad things I said, while accidentally leaving out what was said to me, right?"
Hermione tried to recollect. While Ron had said that Arthur had been as furious as he'd ever seen him, he had left out Arthur's side of the quarrel.
"He was shouting too," Percy continued, his voice never raising to a level that Molly might hear. "And he wasn't shouting sweet nothings, I can assure you. It was an argument; I am no more to blame than he for it."
"You were still in the wrong," Hermione said finally.
"I know." The glint of self-righteousness flickered out of his eye. "I know I made a mistake, but I'm not the villain that I'm treated like."
"Why didn't you believe Harry?" Hermione asked suddenly, aware that the occasion to ask may never again arise.
"I wasn't the only one. Considering the overwhelming evidence against him, I just didn't. Think about it logically. Harry turned up holding Cedric's corpse, nobody saw what happened, the person alleged responsible has the excellent alibi of being dead for over a decade so what's more likely to have happened: crazy dead person is reborn or the traumatised boy that's been abused his entire life understandably snapped."
"You know Harry!"
"No, Hermione, you know Harry. I spoke to him once a year here and I never liked him."
"I theenk 'Arry eez a lovely boy," Fleur said, trying to get a word in edgeways.
"Well, he saved Gabrielle from the mer-demons, didn't-" Percy was interrupted by the loud 'pop' of an apparition.
"Is food almost ready, Molly?" Arthur Weasley asked brightly. "I'm absolutely famished." He smiled as his eyes passed across Fleur and Hermione, then spotted Percy and stopped smiling. The tension in the room quadrupled uncomfortably. Percy's eyes were resolutely on the kitchen table and neither said anything.
"It's almost ready, darling," Molly said nervously.
"You wonder why I avoid this place," Percy muttered to Hermione who had to admit that she saw his point.
"I picked up the Evening Prophet on the way home," Arthur said stiffly, unfolding the paper in his hand. "There's been a new murder. The first in a while."
"Oh no, I thought things were starting to die down!" Molly's voice wavered.
"We all thought that. This one made the front page. It's- it's quite brutal. Only a young girl, too."
"Who is it?" Hermione asked, a sickening lurch of foreboding wrenching her stomach.
"Cho Chang. Why?" Arthur asked seeing the stricken looks on the three faces before him. "Did you know her?"