June 26, 1995

Bill Weasley was feeling decidedly hedged in as he put all the things at his desk (he had a desk now) in order. He needed to bite back a sigh as he arranged a quill more to his liking, but he couldn't completely suppress the instinct to go out and do something. He had been in the field for years now, and although he knew his family needed him (as well as the Order), there was no getting around how stifling a desk job felt after having been a Curse Breaker.

"Wesly!"

Bill winced as one of the managers came over to his desk. The little bugger had all the usual features of a goblin (including the look of disdain for wizards and witches), but Bill was starting to get annoyed at how easily his name was forgotten.

"It's Weasley, sir."

Always a good idea to be respectful, even if it was never reciprocated.

The goblin, Filgor, merely gave Bill a smile that was all teeth.

"I'll remember when you actually do something interesting, Wesly."

That stifling feeling was definitely more pronounced the longer he interacted with this goblin.

"In any case, I've heard that you know French."

Bill blinked at that, he was a decent hand at French, but not the best. He supposed if there was a witch or wizard that was French and a goblin didn't want to interact with them, he would be the next best thing.

"I can hold a conversation, sir."

The goblin's nasty smile didn't leave as he grunted in acceptance.

"Good, enough. Get in here witch!"

The last part was said towards his door and Bill looked over and felt his breath catch for a moment.

Walking in was one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen.

He almost felt himself become dumbfounded at the sight of her, but his instincts as a Curse Breaker reared their head. He knew when he was under some sort of enchantment, he would shoot himself with a Stupefy if the women before him didn't have some sort of allure in her DNA.

The goblin made a motion to introduce her, but before he could the witch got there first.

"My name is Fleur Delacour. A pleasure."

Bill let loose a wry grin as he glanced over at the goblin manager, who didn't seem to matter to him as much (even with Bill looking out for that allure, it didn't mean the woman was any less of a beauty). Someone who wouldn't put up with the goblin's rudeness was always a pleasure in his book.

"Enchanté, mademoiselle. Je sui Bill Weasley."

As Bill took her delicate hand in his own, he noticed that the stifling feeling was not as prevalent anymore.