Act Two, Scene One

AN: This is a shorter chapter than usual because it is mostly to set up the next chapter, a conversation and a meeting.

Music of the Story: Bitter:Sweet and Jónsi

The scene unfolded as such: Fleur Delacour sat at a table in The Darkest Brew – a hole-in-the-wall coffee shop in Hogsmeade – across from her false husband and best friend William Weasley. Delicious black coffee was being had, and the steam clouded around their faces as they attempted to drink the scalding liquid. The conversation, however, is far from pleasant.

"They want you to have a child?" Disbelief colored her voice as Fleur gripped the coffee cup on the table before her, her knuckles white. As if this morning could not turn out any worse. As if this year could not get any worse. She had woken up late, had missed her chance to see Hermione before she had to hurry down to Hogsmeade to talk to William and get his overly cryptic note sorted out.

The other note, the one that Fleur did not want to think about, was being looked into by the headmistress and the board of governors of the school, who apparently took quite badly to people insulting and insinuating things about Hogwarts staff. Fleur was glad of this, because she did not think that she had the free time or investigation skills to track down whoever was clearly messing with her head in order to give them a piece of her mind and a few nasty curses for insulting her in such a manner.

Still, William's pronouncement filled Fleur with far more dread and confusion than a threatening note cut out of pages from the newspaper did. Gabrielle, you are a soothsayer, Fleur thought darkly, her mind kicking into caffeine-induced overdrive as she tried to puzzle a way – any possible way – out of this situation.

Bill sighed, a great heaving sigh that did little to make Fleur feel better about the situation, and took long and slurping sip of his coffee. She wrinkled her nose at him, disgusted by the noises he was making. She felt trapped and confused. He looked at her with that even and calm look that she found infuriating during the war, and began to speak once again. "Da's under pressure at work – they want him to have a family name that isn't in question because that's how the law works."

Oh this was just lovely. Fleur took several deep breaths and stared intently at her steaming cup of coffee – wondering if it was possible to pull some sort of logic out of it. Her voice, when she found it again, was borderline hysterical though. At least she was able to keep the volume low enough so that only she and William would hear her. "They want us to have a child?" She repeated. She would not make a scene, she wouldn't.

(She was going to.)

How had her life gone from good to bad in such short order? It seemed like only a few short hours ago (not days as was really the case) she was pulling Hermione Granger though her warded bedroom door and pushing her against the wall in a desperate attempt to express everything that she could not find the words with which to tell the girl. Her movements were as frantic then as her mind felt now and Fleur was unable to think of a situation where she felt more desperate.

This was a lie, she knew when she had felt worse but the memory was all but expunged from her waking mind – leaving it to only plague her with nightmares of how hurt Hermione had been at the hands of Bellatrix LeStrange. Fleur shook her head violently to clear the thought of Hermione's broken face from it, instead thinking of how breathless and eager Hermione had been for her kisses.

"I wouldn't mind, honestly," Bill had set down his cup of coffee and was looking at her with interested eyes.

Fleur wanted to scream. This was entirely unacceptable, and most certainly not part of their arrangement. She supposed that it could have been, but they had never spoken of children or of their collective want of them – only of their predilection for the same sex and how this was most unfortunate for both of them as the eyes of proper English wizarding society expected the eldest son of a prominent family to marry (however briefly) and produce an heir with a willing participant. Willing, however, was something Fleur completely and resolutely was not. She took a deep breath. "William," She began, speaking slowly and choosing her worse carefully. She knew that he knew how veela love worked. He wasn't an idiot and had told her that he'd aced Care of Magical Creatures in school. "It does not work that way. Veela love, no matter 'ow much I 'ate it, is one way only. I cannot, no matter 'ow deeply I care about you."

"I know, but it is getting to the point where we may be required to. To keep us safe." Bill, always the peace maker, seemed at a loss for words, and kept saying the same thing over and over again. "I jus' wanted you to know," he finished lamely.

Fleur's eyes flashed dangerously and her voice dropped to a low hiss. The veela was decidedly not happy with this, and neither was Fleur. This accord that they had formed, at being angry at William and his preposterous idea, was odd. Like the unity that Fleur felt around Hermione but far more uniquely her own. "That is, 'ow do you English say, bullshit," she said, flicking her hair over her shoulder and taking a long sip of coffee, pinky raised and a murderous look on her face.

"Fleur… please," Bill pleaded, his face falling.

He should have known better. Should have known how Fleur was going to react. They were best friends, after all, and that had to mean something. Fleur thought that she was perfectly within her rights to be annoyed with him, even offended.

She glared at him and searched for the right words. She was agitated, frustrated and very annoyed. Her English came out in a jumbled mess of partially incorrect words and a good bit of French mixed in for good measure. She was sure that she sounded like an idiot. "No. I will 'ave a family. Oui. At some point zat is not now. Peut-être you could be a part of eet. But now? Je suis trop jeune."

"You're not too young." Bill said automatically earning him a cold look. Desperation was obvious in his eyes as he threw up his hands and slumped backwards in his chair, his hands shoved into his jacket's pockets. "We have to think of something," he muttered dejectedly.

Wizarding society – English wizarding society – drove Fleur to the point of complete and utter frustration. Heaven forbid someone had wanted to help their war effort. Especially if that person happened to have magical creature blood of any sort running through their veins – the laws treated her worse than a Death Eater now and when she had first come here she had had to get a special license just to travel to Hogwarts for the tournament. She gave an elaborate shrug, knowing that there was very little else they could do at this point. "Tell your parents. Charlie can be the 'eir. I do not care for these insane English laws and your society sometimes."

"I know," Bill ran a hand through his red hair and looked utterly lost. Fleur wondered if she would be overstepping the bonds of friendship to reach out and comfort him, to tell him that they would fix this and soon in a way that would not result in his getting disowned by his family. "Mum and Da, they would follow the law," he said quietly.

They would have to. Continuation of a family line, no matter how progressive and politically correct a family was, was more important than anything else in English wizarding society. William was a homosexual, but that did not exclude him from the duty of having to produce at least one heir in order to legitimately continue the family line. Male or female did not matter, all that mattered is that he get a girl pregnant and that she bear the child after that he could go be as gay as he wanted to be and as long as he was a good father, no one would care. Fleur hated that rule. Hated how the weight of it was present even now on William's shoulders and how it would soon come to rest, quite uncomfortably between her own as well.

And here I was hoping for an amicable divorce when Hermione and I—the thought ended abruptly as the veela seethed within her. Nothing, nothing at all, would keep her and Hermione from the happiness that the veela saw in the future for them both. Fleur would go insane before she let anything come between them. "Then you can finally 'ave the anonymity you so desire, William. C'est horrible."

Bill looked her at expectantly, as if hoping that she would have the answers that his own brilliant brain could not divine from the situation. At her shrug, he said, "I know it is. But what can I tell them?"

"I do not know." Fleur contemplated her fingernail for a moment before taking a sip of her coffee and finally deciding on an answer that kind and normal people like Arthur and Molly Weasley would probably agree upon and think was reasonable. "Say that I am too young (I am you know) and that I want to live my life before 'aving children."

It was in that moment that Fleur remembered that William had been born give or take two years after his parents had finished school and wished she could take back what she'd said – as they were sure to never understand it, baby-making machines that they were. She started to speak again, but Bill was looking thoughtful so Fleur closed her mouth and waiting for the gears in his head to finish turning.

"And if that won't work?"

She knew better than to try and be funny and make light of such a situation, but a ridiculous idea had occurred to her. "You can polyjuice your new friend into a woman… and get 'im pregnant," She was trying to make the situation better, to make him laugh to get that horrible look off of his face as though he was carrying the whole weight of the world on his shoulders.

Bill threw back his head and laughed, drawing attention from most of the coffee shop and making Fleur wish that he would be quiet as she had been quite enjoying the lack of eyes on her and anonymity. Still chuckling, Bill asked, in a serious tone, "Think that'd work?"

Fleur gave him a withering look. "No," she said shortly. Polyjuice did not work that way – babies could not come out of men even in the wizarding world and while the idea was hilarious to think of – Fleur had once polyjuiced herself into a man and never wanted to experience that again. Not that Harry Potter wasn't a nice man to turn into, it had just been awkward and well, weird, to see Bill look at her with eyes that said a lot more about his sexual preferences than hers. Plus the veela had been most upset with her for having the audacity to do such a thing and Fleur could only deal with feeling schizophrenic for so long before she knew she would really go insane.

She had to think. If things got to that point, what would she do? She supposed that she'd have no choice, and hoped that Shacklebolt would hurry up and get the laws fixed so that she could get divorced and never have to think about any of these truly horrible problems ever again. "I will speak to 'ermione on the matter."

"Why involve her?" Bill asked with a questioning look over his coffee.

"Because the child would 'ave to be 'ers too – to keep me from going insane," Fleur explained in what she hoped was an even tone. She supposed that she and Hermione were going to have to have this conversation eventually. It would be better to explain it in the context of this situation with William. She hated the idea that she was completely and totally helpless against this.

She had wanted to wait, to try and draw out the feeling of complete serenity she felt around Hermione for a few more precious days – seconds it didn't matter. She did not want to destroy the peace she had within herself now. Hermione was young, she might not even understand what Fleur had to say to her. There were so many unknowns in this equation and Fleur felt as helpless as she had during the war.

Realization dawned on Bill's face and Fleur tried to not look too annoyed with him, "Oh."

He did not really understand it either. No one really got what it was like to be a veela or to have veela blood flowing through your veins, it was a learned experience and a harsh torture on the soul. Fleur felt anguished, at times, just being in the presence of Hermione and not being able to touch her as the veela so desperately wanted to. She had to draw the line somewhere, but the fact of the matter was that her control was close to shattered now, with Hermione surrendering to her kisses with gusto.

She was going to have to explain things to Hermione. And soon.

She took a sip of coffee and smirked at Bill through the pleasant and tickling steam that still rose from her cup. "And… I believe that it is called 'the turkey baster' method would have to be used if we do not forgo pregnancy completely?"

The veela shrieked inside her, that it was forbidden to speak of such things –that she could get into a lot of trouble for saying anything. Fleur pushed away from it, telling it to shut up and simply listen to her judgment for once. She had to tell William about this, as it was only fair to him to give him hope.

"In order to have kids, you sort of need to be pregnant, Fleur," William, bless his heart, was rather dense at times.

Fleur looked at him with narrowed eyes. "Veela 'ave ways. When mates are the same sex – or one is barren. The creature does not understand this and desperately need to mate and reproduce, so certain methods are employed or else the one who 'as the blood is driven mad."

She had to tread lightly here, she did not want to risk giving away too much. There was no direct rule against it, but her mother and grandmother had long-since warned her to avoid saying things about such a thing to the general public – as it was hard for regular humans to comprehend.

"They're… what, artificially grown?"

Fleur sipped her coffee thoughtfully, wondering if she could continue without actually breaking that line of taboo secrets she was not supposed to say. She supposed that she should not press her chances – to just leave it there and if the situation came to that, that she would tell him more. She would still need him, need his essence, but if Hermione was there was well – the veela could handle it. "Something akin to that, it is a secret that I cannot say."

"Would you mind terribly? Could you ask if we can use that method?" William looked as excited as his tone and shining eyes indicated. She smiled at him, and their eyes met in a one of those meaningful glances that friends sometimes shared. It was a solution that they could salvage – a farce they could maintain for just a little longer. Until Shacklebolt and the Ministry fixed the laws so they could be free once again.

"I do not know, William. I am so young, 'ermione does not know what she is getting into with me. I 'ave not the heart to tell her," Fleur sighed. "She will 'ate me when I tell her – and this? This will make it far worse."

"I am sorry." He intoned quietly, smiling a half-hearted smile that she supposed was supposed to be encouraging. It wasn't as it looked like something had died right in front of him and he was unsure how to react to it.

"Me too. Tell your parents that we are thinking about it." Fleur pulled her jacket closer to her body and drained the rest of her coffee in a gesture that clearly said that she was not going to continue this conversation at the moment. She supposed that she was being rude, but William had foisted all of his problems onto her yet again. She knew that this was partially her fault – with her sense of duty and desperate want to participate in the war that had taken Cedric Diggory's life. She had wanted to avenge that wonderful sweet boy who had died for no good reason and so many others like him, but had gotten caught up in the politics of English society and realized that this country was simply horrible.

She did not want to talk to William any more. She wanted to go and find Hermione and kiss her until she could not remember her problems. Fleur set her jaw in a resolute line and stood, nodding at William as he intoned, "Alright."

Upon returning to the castle that afternoon and wishing for nothing more than to go and collapse on her (oh so comfortable) couch and listen to her new records, Fleur caught sight of Minerva McGonagall crossing the entrance hall from the Great Hall and heading for the stairs. She quickened her pace and upon McGonagall's pausing at the base of the staircase to wait for Fleur to catch up to her, was able to catch up with the older woman. At the headmistress' nod, Fleur asked, "Minerva, what 'ave you 'eard about the note I received?"

McGonagall looked down her nose at Fleur from two steps up. She wasn't that much taller than Fleur, but from her position she was able make Fleur feel like she was five years old and getting into trouble with her mother for the first time. "Nothing, only that Filius received one too," she said quietly, her eyes flicking around the vast expanse of the room. Fleur thought she looked nervous, but held her tongue.

Fleur nodded resolutely. "Ah," she said quietly after a moment of flicking nervous eyes around the room and at each other. "Will you tell me if you find anything?"

The headmistress nodded and turned to leave, saying over her shoulder, "Certainly Fleur."

It was strange for her to be so quiet and stand-offish, Fleur thought as she climbed the stairs behind McGonagall. The woman was usually at least a little bit friendly and welcoming, even if she was mildly terrifying in her own right. Fleur frowned, and wondered what could be so bad about that note that the headmistress was fearful of talking to her about it.

"Minerva," she began again as they reached the top of the stairs. "I am pure blood – the veela is not frowned upon as a muggle would be 'ere. Why is this happening?"

The rigid set of the older woman's shoulders noticeable through her over robe and dress. Fleur frowned slightly and climbed the final step and reached out to touch her shoulder – now that they were on equal footing, they were close to the same height.

"Fleur," McGonagall began quietly, raising her shoulder to dislodge it from Fleur's tentative grip. "This is not the first threat that's been received. Just the first one that was sent directly to you."

"What? Why was I not told?" Fleur demanded, her voice raising as she met McGonagall's impassive stare with flashing bright blue eyes. The veela was upset, and there was gold around the edges of her vision. No one insulted her heritage outside of Fleur herself – it was not done, and Fleur was a special case in that she actively rejected that part of herself – she did not outright insult the veela.

"It was need to know. Order of the Phoenix need to know." McGonagall hissed, narrowing her eyes and looking decidedly predatory and feline.

Fleur felt her face pull downwards, a snarl of her own escaping her lips before she could contain it. How could they have not told her? Threats to her life and they did not tell her? "Does 'arry know?" She ground out. Harry Potter was not one to take kindly to people being left out of the loop.

"He will be informed of it at the next meeting," The response came tersely. "Someone is actively trying to block the Minister for Magic's elimination of the magical creature laws with a public referendum. It now appears that the vote will take place and that the public supports the measure – and now those who oppose it are taking matters into their own hands."

Fleur felt the color drain from her face. They had just defeated the Dark Lord, it was too soon for there to be another one, too soon for there to be another evil force that was deeply invested in making their lives miserable. She stood there, staring at McGonagall with her mouth open for a long time before the words finally came to her. "What are we doing about this?" she finally asked. "They 'ave insulted me. My 'eritage, 'onor and my grandmere. I will destroy them."

Family, after all, is as tantamount as life itself to a veela.

McGonagall looked at her with an expression of almost pity. "The meeting is in the usual place Sunday next. Be there and we will see what we can do."

Fleur nodded jerkily and turned to walk away, not trusting herself to speak when the headmistress continued, "Oh, and Fleur? Don't do anything rash, we have an ally in this investigation that I would rather not lose."