HARRY POTTER AND EVERYTHING RELATING TO THAT MAGICAL UNIVERSE BELONG TO JK ROWLING, WARNER BROS, BLOOMSBURY BOOKS ETC. AND I AM VERY LUCKY TO BE ALLOWED TO PLAY WITH IT ALL.

Warning: A little bit of heterosexuality.

On a Long Leash

The English made horrible coffee. They spooned powder out of a glass jar into a mug and poured boiling water onto it. Then they added milk straight from the fridge, and sometimes white sugar. It was an abomination. Fleur Delacour trusted nobody to make coffee for her.

She had brought back a little sack of beans from France. They had been roasted in her mother's oven and she now ground them in a little device she had bought in Paris' equivalent of Diagon Alley - La Place Mascrine. She had also brought back pastries which she arranged on a plate. English cakes were stodgy and their biscuits dry. Also, they did not know how to dress or create scents, the music was too loud and there was Dark Magic lurking in unexpected places.

However, England had its compensations. One was being far enough from her parents to do pretty much what she wanted. The other was currently knocking on the door of her little Henley flat. She glanced once at the table (laid out beautifully) and once in the mirror (good enough) before answering the door.

He was delicious: tall and strong, with beautiful hazel eyes and that long, glossy red hair. He was delightfully shy and awkward, too. And such a gentleman!

He nodded. "Um, Fleur, it's - uh - good to see … How was your New Year?"

She stretched onto tiptoes to kiss him lightly on the cheek.

"Come in, come in!"

"That's 'on-tray' right? I've been practicing," he said as they moved into the sitting room.

She giggled, "Very good. 'Entrée'. But your accent ees terrible!"

She indicated the decoratively carved armchairs and they sat before the little coffee table. It was covered with a lacy white cloth and set with delicate china.

"Wow, this looks, yeah …" Bill stuttered.

"Sank you," Fleur purred, as she poured the coffee out. "My New Year was quiet, I sat in wiz ze family. Gabrielle she was so funny! She was determined to be awake at midnight, we could see 'er struggle for at least an hour!"

"Did she make it?"

"Bien sûr! She ees a Delacour. We are not quitters!" Fleur eyed her man carefully, before adding the milk she had heated for him to his coffee cup. She drank hers black.

Bill looked down at the floor. He held himself even more stiffly than usual. Something was wrong, but she would wait for him to tell her what it was. She had never met a man like Bill before. Her Veela blood was more curse than blessing. Women were jealous and men overcome by their desire. But Bill was her friend. Probably her only real friend, outside her immediate family, since puberty.

Bill took a sip of his coffee and tried to keep his face straight.

"More milk?" she asked.

"Thanks." He watched her as she poured, but when she looked into his face, he looked down at the floor again. Eventually he took a deep breath and said, "I have to talk to you."

"Mmhmm?" She kept her voice even.

"I've been … over Christmas … I mean - oh Salazar!" He swallowed, she waited, he began again: "I'm seeing someone else. There's somebody … No, wait - I'm gay, I should have told you that a long time ago."

It was hardly a surprise. When she had been telling her parents about Bill over Christmas, her father had muttered darkly that "only one sort of man can resist a Veela". She had wondered whether Bill would ever admit it. The English were so reticent about sex! Her father clearly thought it a problem, but she found it ideal. Her mother had always told her that the most important thing in a marriage was for the spouses to be friends.

"And you 'ave found -- in French we say 'garcon d'amour', a Boy of Love?" she asked.

Bill was staring at her now, faintly incredulously, but he replied, "French is so much more romantic than English. Our term is 'Kept Boy'. But it's not exactly like that …"

"You are the heir of a Pureblood family. It is normal. I am so glad zat it ees not a woman. I would have felt zat I was some'ow lacking some thing eef you 'ad taken a woman. Zis is perfect!"

Bill sat back in his chair, finally relaxed. "Perfect?" he asked.

"You are a kind, brave, honest man. You will be a good father and already you are my good friend. We should marry and have children, as we have talked before. When the children are grown I will take lovers. It is perfect."

"Well, when you put it like that … I can't think of anyone I would rather have as the mother of my children."

"Ees he of Pureblood? 'E understands ze rules?" she asked.

"Er, yes. He is. As it happens. My family never really went in for all that Old Family stuff, though, I don't know that I know the rules."

"My parents also neglected the old ways. We will not. You are the Heir. You do as you please only. It is for me and him to know the system. We will be married and have babies and 'e will be somewhere else and sometimes you are wiz 'im and sometimes wiz us! Can you afford two homes?"

"He's got his own place. It's not really that sort of … he's older than I am."

Fleur waved a hand dismissively. "I do not need to know. If I meet him, I will be polite. But it is not necessary. As long as 'e makes you 'appy."

"He does. Very happy. Thank you. You make me very happy, too. I thought I was going to have to choose. So, how open can we be, is it still a secret?"

"Pas du tous! No, be as open as you like. I will not be ashamed. I am proud to have a handsome, strong fiancé who knows 'ow to behave like a Pureblood Heir! You English are usually so embarrassed about amour. It will be a refreshment."

"I can't tell you too much about him. It's complicated."

Fleur shrugged. "It makes nothing! I know he has good taste!"

"Thanks. He has the same taste in coffee as well actually."

"More milk?" Unbelievable!

"Yes please," he said, sheepishly. "You are fantastic. I'm so lucky. You're beautiful and clever and so kind. You were amazing in the Triwizard --"

"Not zis again!"

"No, but you're just as good at the bank. And all the household things …" Bill indicated the table and the flat.

"You want a tart?" Fleur asked.

Bill grinned, but did not to explain her inadvertent double-entendre.

"Not just now. I don't know how to tell you how much this means to me."

Fleur sashayed round the low table and put her hands on his shoulders. She looked into his eyes and replied, "Maybe we can find some way for you to zank me." Then she dropped her lips onto his.

He pulled her down onto his lap and wrapped his arms round her, kissing her back passionately.

After a long embrace, she asked, "Weel you like to stay 'ere tonight?"

Bill nodded. Then seemed to remember something. In a hoarse voice, he said, "I just have to send a couple of messages."

He pulled his wand out of his sleeve and cast two patronuses. The liquid silver cheetahs darted quickly out of the end of his wand, before both sharply changing direction and darting just as quickly to the opposite sides of the room.

He pointed his wand at one: "Mum, it's me. Don't expect me back tonight. Everything's fine, explain later. Love to Dad if you're visiting him."

The cheetah dashed speedily out of sight. Then Bill took a deep breath and looked at Fleur's face, where her head rested on his shoulder, before pointing at the other patronus and saying, "Siz, I'll see you tomorrow. Everything's brilliant, it's all worked out."

He didn't even watch the second messenger depart before taking his fiancé's face in his hands and bringing their mouths together.