6. Beauty and a Beast
Belle lay awake that night, staring at the grey ceiling above her, wearing a clean robe of some kind that Harry had given her. It smelled funny – nice, but funny – and with the unfamiliarity of the smell, and the excitement for tomorrow Belle couldn't quiet her thoughts.
With a heavy sigh, Belle pulled the covers off and treaded to the kitchens; she could do with some cold water. Once there, she found the pitcher on the counter and a glass next to it. Gingerly, Belle poured the pitcher over the glass, but a loud crash behind her made her drop the ceramic pitcher. It shattered, leaving a spiral of ocean blue ceramic on the wooden floor and staining the wood with water. "Merde," Belle murmured as she bent down to pick up the broken shards.
Heavy footsteps thudded into the kitchen as someone muttered, "Lumos." Instantly, a small bluish-white light filled the kitchen, revealing a tall figure in the shadows. Belle stood up, only to find that she was far shorter than the intruder. She folded her lips together in discomfort and asked boldly, "'Oo eez you?"
The light grew closer, and Belle stepped back, careful not to step on the broken ceramic with her bare feet. Soon, though, she hit a hard object, and pinned against the counter, Belle could not escape. Her breathing accelerated, – becoming shallow and ragged – and she clutched the counter, her knuckles white with fear.
"Belle, is that you?" a voice asked. "What are you doing out here in the middle of the night?"
Belle frowned. She didn't recognize the voice; it was clearly male – a low tenor voice – but it wasn't Harry's concerned and gentle tone. This voice sounded genuinely bewildered. Belle pressed her hands into the counter even tighter, losing feeling in her fingers.
"Oui, c'est moi," she whispered as the light continued to grow closer. She closed her eyes in the brightness and fell forward in her confusion. The man caught her and dragged her to a different room, placing her on a sofa. Finally opening her eyes, Belle saw the face of Ron Weasley right in front of her.
"Right… stay here, Belle," Ron said, pointing his wand at her. Belle was breathless from relief and awe at the glowing stick of wood. She stood up and walked toward Ron to examine the wand further, but he shook his head violently and pushed her back down. "No, stay here," he ordered as he returned to the kitchen. Frowning, Belle sat down; she wished she understood everything that everyone said or that everyone could understand her. She smiled though; after much hesitation and reference to his dictionary, Harry had informed Belle that Fleur – Ron's sister-in-law who spoke French fluently – would arrive tomorrow. Or later today, Belle supposed since it was probably morning. Finally, someone would be able to understand her, and maybe she could learn more about England and its magic.
An involuntary yawn caused Belle to stretch, raising her lean arms to the ceiling. Then, with heavy eyelids, Belle leaned sideways and fell asleep, and her chocolate brown hair floated around her angelic face. At this moment, Ron reentered the room, with the mended pitcher in one hand and Belle's glass of water in the other. After putting the pitcher and the glass on a table and lighting some candles with a flick of his wrist, Ron saw that Belle lay sleeping peacefully on the sofa, her brown hair splayed across the cushions. How beautiful she was… almost as beautiful as Hermione.
Ron's stomach dropped; he missed Hermione dearly. Not only had they been friends, but after their final year at Hogwarts, Ron was sure they would start dating. However, with rebuilding Hogwarts and catching the remaining Deatheaters, the two of them had had to postpone a relationship; only recently had they gone on their first few dates. However, their last excursion to the Three Broomsticks nearly a month ago had ended in a fierce argument, and it hadn't helped Hermione's temper that Ron was tipsy with Firewhiskey. Although they argued frequently, Hermione had been cool toward Ron, and in frustration, he had recently made comments that had nettled her. Despite the arguing, Ron had still enjoyed himself and he sometimes he even pictured dating the bossy brunette witch – in the distant future, of course – and he had pictured dating her for a couple years now. Unfortunately, Ron thought, as long as Hermione was in France, that future with her was on hold and he could not apologize while she was away; the girl in front of him served as a bitter reminder of that. Before he lost control of his emotions, Ron set down the pitcher and glass of water on the end table and exited the room, leaving the French maiden alone.
Belle awoke later that morning to yelling. Groaning, she opened her eyes only to blink at the bright sunlight. She didn't remember falling asleep on the sofa, but she remembered breaking the pitcher. Belle looked to her right as she stretched and paused, mid-stretch, as she recognized the blue, ceramic container from the previous evening.
"I thought it shattered on the floor," Belle murmured as she placed her hands at her sides. Pursing her lips, she lifted up the pitcher and examined it, but no cracks or chips remained. "Someone must have repaired it with something… but this couldn't have been mortar, otherwise it would still be wet, and it would show. How very curious." She knit her eyebrows together and replaced the ceramic jug on the end table.
Only seconds later, Belle heard more arguing. She vaguely remembered that Harry had invited Ginny to stay the night, and as Belle approached the foyer, she knew the red-haired girl had been the one yelling. Peering into the entrance, she saw Harry, Ron, Ginny, and a couple of strangers standing in a circle. Ginny leaned forward, yelling at a beautiful woman with silvery-blonde hair. Belle bit her lip and stepped forward to see the group better.
Rubbing Ginny's back, Harry tried to quiet his girlfriend, but Ginny continued her tantrum. "Bill, your wife woke me up! Phlegm had the audacity to–"
"Fleur," Bill corrected with a tired smile. He entwined his fingers with Fleur's. Ginny rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.
"She didn't have to sing to announce her presence," Harry agreed diplomatically, still wearing his pajamas. "And you did say that you wouldn't be here until the early afternoon."
"My apologeez," Fleur said with her accent. "It 'as been a very stressful week with ze baby. I realize now zat I should 'ave informed 'Arry of our emergency appointment with ze doctor and asked to come earlier in ze day before we came." Bill rubbed Fleur's pregnant stomach, a smile on his face, as his wife spoke.
Ron stared dreamily at Fleur, Harry shrugged, but Ginny scoffed at Fleur's explanation. "Well, Phlegm, we wouldn't want you to miss your appointment." Then, acting like the teenager that she was, Ginny stomped upstairs, her radioactive fury reaching the group and resulting in an awkward silence. With Ginny's absence, Belle stepped into the foyer. Shyly, she looked at the ground.
"Good morning, Belle," Harry greeted. "Fleur, this is Belle… the girl that I wrote to you about. She's from France, and she doesn't speak any English."
"Thank you, 'Arry," Fleur said with a brilliant smile. Harry's cheeks turned a pale pink, and he nodded, excusing himself. Belle suspected that he needed to speak with his volatile redheaded girlfriend. With Harry gone, Bill asked to speak with his younger brother to give the women privacy. Ron reluctantly followed his sibling into the sitting room, and silence fell upon the two women.
"Bonjour, Belle," Fleur greeted. "I am Fleur. I'm sure Harry told you about me – I am Ronald's sister-in-law." She spoke fluidly in French, and for the first time in three days, Belle felt fully comfortable.
"Oui, Madame. Harry has been wonderful, but he and Ron don't understand that women have different needs than they do." Belle smiled. She had tried to talk with Ginny about it, but Ginny looked at her coolly and walked away. She suspected that Ginny had a twinge of jealousy; after all, Harry had been extremely kind to her.
Fleur laughed. "Indeed they do. I told Harry that we would go to Diagon Alley today to purchase some clothes for you. Although you can wear Hermione's, I'm sure you'd be more comfortable in some of your own, non?"
"Oui," Belle agreed, nodding her head. "Fleur, if you don't mind, I'd like to learn some English as well. I have learned a few phrases, but I cannot communicate well with Harry… or Ron," Belle added as an afterthought.
"Certainly," Fleur said. "I'll help you get dressed first. These robes can be a pain to get on when you first wear them. After that, we can work on your English."
"Merci, Fleur," Belle replied, a look of relief crossing her face. With a smile, Fleur placed a hand on the younger girl's shoulder and steered her into the bedroom to help her prepare for the day ahead. After selecting a pair of royal blue robes, Fleur helped Belle with her hair, muttering incantations to make it appear sleek and lustrous. Then the two girls sat on the sofa, and Fleur taught Belle some basic phrases in English: I am hungry, I am thirsty, I am tired, How do you say…, and others Fleur thought that Belle might need to know. They agreed to speak with Harry to see if they could meet twice a week to work on Belle's English and on Harry's French. Meanwhile, Ginny still fumed in Harry's room.
"C'mon Gin," Harry pleaded, as he pulled emerald green robes over his jeans and t-shirt, "Fleur is part of your family now. I don't know why you dislike her so much."
Ginny sighed and leaned back on Harry's bed. "Fleur's part veela, and I don't like the way she makes my brother act like a daft twit. Not to mention… she is French. I wish my brother would have married an English woman."
"Well, then, don't go with us to Diagon Alley today. I don't want you to be unhappy."
Ginny shook her head. "I have to go. I don't want Ron to do anything stupid around Fleur; even though we all know he fancies Hermione, he's likely to do something absolutely daft in Phlegm'spresence. You would think he would stop acting like a blushing schoolgirl around his brother's wife, but no… not Ron." She rolled her eyes. "Well, let's go." Ginny had changed into a pair of deep purple robes, and she had pulled her long hair back into a braid.
"All right, Gin," Harry said with a smile as he grabbed her small hand. Pulling her with him, Harry apparated to the front hall where all the others were waiting.
"'Arry!" Fleur greeted, clapping her hands together in delight. Ginny held Harry's hand more tightly. "Shall we go?"
Harry nodded and grabbed a pinch of Floo powder, throwing it into the fireplace. "Diagon Alley," he said, making sure to enunciate clearly. He didn't want a repeat of the summer before his second year at Hogwarts. Harry vanished, and the green flames died down quickly. Ginny – tossing the green powder into the fireplace – stepped into the flames and disappeared.
"Belle will travel before me," Fleur said to the group. "Bill, you can go before Ronald. I suspect zat Belle 'as not travelled by Floo Powder and will be confused by ze process." Nodding, Bill grabbed some powder and disappeared, and Ron did the same. Fleur grabbed Belle's hand gently and began speaking to her in French. "Now Belle, we will take some Floo powder and enter the green flames."
"Will it hurt?" Belle asked, clearly concerned.
Fleur chuckled, a musical tinkle. "Oh no, it won't hurt at all. Once you enter the flames, you announce your destination and the Floo network will take you there." Fleur looked at the younger woman. "Does that make sense?" Belle nodded, though her insides churned a little. True, she was excited to try the magical transportation, but right now, her anxiety outweighed the positive emotion.
Tossing some green powder into the fireplace, Fleur smiled at Belle. "Don't worry – it'll be fine. Just make sure to enunciate, Belle. Remember, you're going to Diagon Alley."
The smoke clouded Belle's brain, and she coughed violently. "D-Dia-gon All-ey," she sputtered, doubled over. Belle felt a loud swishing in her ears, and she covered them with her hands. The last thing Belle saw before all went black was Fleur's concerned face looking at her from the living room.
When Belle finally opened her eyes, she saw that soot covered her and that she was lying on the floor. Her hands had black, dusty streaks on them, and Belle could only imagine that her face must be worse. Sitting down, Belle examined the shop into which she had fallen. No customers were in the shop, and a heavy silence filled the air as thickly as the dust covered the objects. The few items that were in the shop made Belle shiver; they didn't look like anything she had seen at Harry's house. On one display set, a large, emaciated hand sat open, as though it were waiting to crush its next unsuspecting victim. Belle, with her eyes wide, headed to exit the shop. Just as she placed her hand on the doorknob, the door creaked open.
Belle stood back as a tall blonde-haired man entered the shop. His robes were similar to the ones she wore, but his were black and pristine. He tilted his face up with a haughty glance and continued to the counter. Belle, annoyed at the man's conceit, began mumbling under her breath in French and exited the shop. Once she had exited the shop, she regretted leaving. In the alleyway, many filthy people were selling beetles and other disgusting creatures. One lady with two rotten, yellow teeth approached Belle and tried to sell her what looked like human fingers. Disgusted, Belle clutched her stomach and returned to the shop she had exited. She could only hope that arrogant man might help her. He was the only one that Belle could envision helping her. Opening the door, she saw the man on the other side. He raised his eyebrow at Belle as he exited the shop. Belle swallowed painfully, smoothed her filthy hair down and tried to speak.
"What do you want?" the man snapped. Belle looked into his eyes, and saw hard, cold, silver. She pursed her lips. Maybe he wouldn't help her find Diagon Alley after all.
"'Ello," Belle said hesitantly. "My name… eez… Belle." She sighed and bit her lip. She did not know how to ask him where Diagon Alley was in English. Belle clutched her sides, crossing her arms and looked at the floor, concentrating.
"Well, what is it?" he asked, now looking like he had sucked a lemon. His eyes, harsh like steel, penetrated Belle and with resolve, she looked up at him.
"Parlez-vous français?" she asked quickly. "I no speak Een-gleesh good."
The man let out an angry sigh. "Oui," he said irritably. "Je parle couramment le français." He raised his eyebrows again and waited for Belle to continue. He had begun tapping his foot.
"Well," Belle said in French, "I'm looking for Diagon Alley. That's where my friends are… and I don't know how to get there." Belle paused a moment. "Monsieur, you didn't tell me your name."
"Je m'appelle Draco Malfoy," he said coldly. "Diagon Alley is at the end of this street, to your right." He pointed. "Now, if you'll excuse me, mademoiselle," he said, annoyance blatant in his tone, "I need to be going." With a hard glance at Belle, he spun around and continued in the opposite direction of Diagon Alley. Impulsively, Belle trotted after Monsieur Malfoy.
"Wait, monsieur," Belle said, out of breath. "Thank you for your assistance." She smiled at him warmly and touched his arm appreciatively. Turning around, Belle dashed off to find Harry, Ron, and Fleur. She left so quickly, that she failed to see Draco's bewildered and slightly revolted expression.
"Bloody French women," he muttered as he continued down Knockturn Alley. "They're so damn helpless." Frowning slightly, Draco twisted around to see Belle. The corners of his mouth twitched as he saw her bright blue robes flutter behind her. After the briefest moment, Draco continued down Knockturn Alley and disapparated.
"Belle!" Fleur cried, hugging the girl as she joined her and Bill in Diagon Alley. "We were so worried about you. Harry, Ginny, and Ron split up from us to try to find you. I'm so glad we found you!" Fleur held Belle even more tightly. When she finally broke the embrace, Fleur surveyed Belle from head to toe and clucked her tongue. "You are a mess." Uttering a simple cleaning charm, Fleur managed to clear away most of the dirt and dust from Belle's hair and robes. Belle then wiped her face on the sleeve of the robes. Good as new, she thought, as she looked at herself in a storefront window.
While Fleur had fussed over Belle, Bill had contacted Harry and informed him that they had found Belle. Now the trio – Ron, Harry, and Ginny – came and joined Fleur, Bill and Belle. Ginny, with a sour look on her face, glared at Fleur.
"Apparently, you didn't explain the Floo Network well enough," Ginny said crossly. "We've been searching for her for nearly an hour." Ginny looked at Belle. "Where were you anyway?"
Fleur translated the question, and Belle began describing the scene that she had seen when she had landed from the fireplace. Fleur again translated what Belle was saying, and Harry rubbed his chin, thinking. "It sounds like she ended up in Knockturn Alley, Gin." He shuddered. "I ended up in the wrong grate once, and that's where it took me. I never want to go there again."
The conversation changed topics, and Fleur decided that she and Belle would go shopping. Ginny reluctantly agreed to join them after receiving a pointed look from Bill. "You should try and befriend them, Ginny," he mouthed as Ginny made a face. The boys decided to go to Gringotts to withdraw more money in case the women needed it, and afterwards, they headed to Quality Quidditch Supplies to look at the newest brooms (Harry marveled at the new Lightning Thunder, which claimed to be twice as fast as the Firebolt). Dragging Harry and Ron away from the brooms after a conversation about Quidditch that lasted nearly an hour, Bill suggested that they go to the Leaky Cauldron to get some Firewhiskey and Butterbeer. The two younger men agreed, and while the women selected dresses for Belle, they talked about Belle, Ginny, and Fleur.
"When is Fleur due to have her baby?" Ron asked, taking a swig of Firewhiskey after stuffing his mouth with chips. He belched and Harry rolled his eyes as he gulped down some of his Butterbeer.
"In another six weeks or so," Bill said with a smile. "The healers think it'll be a boy, but Fleur is adamant that it's a girl." He chuckled. "I guess we won't find out until that day."
"I don't think I want to have kids," Ron said. "They're so much work."
Bill shook his head. "You'll change your mind. When you're married to someone that you love, and you're a bit older… then you'll want kids." He sipped his Firewhiskey. "How about you Harry?"
"Well," Harry said awkwardly, "I suppose it'll depend on what Ginny wants." Ron and Bill looked at him curiously. "I mean, it's not something that we've talked about. We haven't even talked about marriage yet, really." Harry drank some of his Butterbeer to prevent himself from talking as a scarlet flush crept up his neck.
"Well," Bill said, in an attempt to relieve the suddenly tense atmosphere, "Cheers to you and Ginny… whatever you decide to do." All three men downed their drinks and grinned.
"I wonder how Ginny's doing," Harry said thoughtfully. He chuckled. "I hope she's getting along with Fleur. Maybe she's even trying some dresses on."
Ron snorted. "Bet you a galleon Ginny throws a tantrum in one of the stores. She can't stand Fleur."
"You're on," Bill said, extending his hand to Ron. "Ginny's more mature than that. She wouldn't let her temper get the best of her."
"That galleon's as good as mine," Ron muttered, drinking his new glass of Firewhiskey.
Ginny was most certainly not getting along with Fleur and Belle. The two women spoke in French most of the day, and Ginny's head was starting to ache from trying to understand them. Annoyed, she asked Fleur to speak in English, and perhaps as revenge from being called Phlegm earlier that morning, Fleur ignored Ginny's request. As such, Ginny fumed silently in the corner of the store while Belle tried on different dresses. Most of them were simple and floor-length, similar to the one that Ginny had seen her wearing the day before.
Throwing her hands into the air, Ginny left the shop and wandered the street. Fleur and Belle would be quite a while, she suspected. She checked on them fifteen minutes later, and they were still selecting dresses. Calmed down, Ginny joined them again and bit her cheek to prevent her temper from flaring up again. Fleur paid for the dresses and the three girls exited the shop. On the way to join the men in the Leaky Cauldron, Belle saw Flourish and Blotts and pointed excitedly.
"She wants to go in, Ginny," Fleur explained. "She enjoys reading very much." Ginny nodded and sat down on a bench right inside the store, resting her head against the wall. She couldn't wait until this trip was over. When Belle and Fleur finally reemerged from the shop, Ginny practically ran to the Leaky Cauldron to join the rest of the group.
When the women joined the men at a table in the bar and after Ron had reluctantly paid Bill a galleon ("It was a surprise, but no, Ginny did not lose 'er temper," Fleur told her grinning husband when he asked), Fleur began to recount their day, telling the men about all the dresses, shoes, and jewelry Belle had gotten. Belle – who couldn't understand the conversation – tuned Fleur out as an agitated Ginny sat on her barstool, and the men listened politely. Ron nodded his head up and down eagerly, his eyes glazed over as he stared at Fleur.
Belle thought back on her adventure as she trailed a long finger around the edge of her Butterbeer tankard. More than anything else, she wondered why the man, Monsieur Malfoy, had been so haughty. He seemed an enigma, courteous yet rude, cold yet helpful. Perhaps she should have been affronted by his behavior, Belle mused, but she had been terrified to be in a strange place in a strange country alone, that his rudeness hadn't sunk in until now.
"Belle," Fleur said loudly, shaking her shoulder, "It is time to go." Returning from her reverie, Belle slid off her barstool and began to follow Ginny as Fleur guided her out of the pub.
Back at the house, Fleur and Bill said their good-byes, promising to come as soon as they could. The part-veela woman even suggested that Belle come stay with them for a bit some time at the Shell Cottage since no one knew how limited her time would be. Harry shook his head, smiling: Fleur had certainly taken a liking to the French beauty. Ginny rolled her eyes with her arms crossed in reaction to the news, while Belle smiled and thanked Fleur profusely for her generosity in giving of her time, and for her offer that Belle could stay with them "whene'er she so desired." After hugging Belle again, Fleur pulled her husband by the arm and led him to the doorsteps where they disapparated to St. Mungo's.
"Well, that was fun," Ginny said as she looked crossly at the front door. "I'm glad Phlegm is finally gone."
"Surprise there, Gin," Harry chuckled as he wrapped an arm around her. "Shall we find Kreacher and have him make dinner?"
" 'Course," said Ron, patting his stomach. "Those chips at the Leaky Cauldron didn't hold me long." He glanced at the brunette next to him. "Coming, Belle?"
Ron extended his hand toward her, and with only a second's hesitation, Belle grabbed it. A light, fluttery feeling flashed through her stomach as the redheaded boy led her downstairs to the kitchens, but as Belle tried to place the feeling, it dissipated, as quickly as it had come leaving Belle to wonder what on earth she had just experienced as they clattered down the stone steps to the kitchens.
FRENCH:
Parlez-vous français? = Do you speak French?
Oui, je parle couramment le français = Yes, I speak fluent French.