Thank you to all my lovely reviewers, followers and favourite-ers (if that is a word... if not, I just made it up :P ) It is sooooo great to have so much support for my stories. This might be the last update in a while because I am pretty busy with my studies and exams and stuff- don't you love grade 12? :/ So please enjoy this while you can. But don't worry! I'm not abandonning you... I promise :) xx
June 13 1998
"Fleur! Je vais prendre un douche!" called Gabrielle, heading into the bathroom with a fluffy towel and her toiletries.
"D'accord!" said Fleur as she slipped a floaty, blue summer dress around her slender frame.
"Did she just call you a douche?" asked Bill, peeking his head out of the ensuite bathroom. Fleur rolled her eyes at him.
"Non, douche is 'shower' in French, Guillaume," she said, unable to keep herself from looking teasingly at her husband. He had obviously washed his hair, for it was damp and stuck up at odd angles.
"That's a strange name for a shower," Bill remarked as he shook his head and sprayed water all over the walls.
Fleur sighed and cleaned the walls with her wand. "Don't do zat, Bill. You are not a dog!"
Bill merely chuckled and made his way over to the dresser in nothing but his towel.
"If you are looking for your jeans, zey are hanging up downstairs. I washed zem last night," said Fleur helpfully after watching Bill rummage through his drawers for clothes.
"Thanks, love," he said, leaning over to kiss her head before dashing downstairs.
"Don't let Gabrielle see you in your towel!" Fleur called out to him.
"Yes, dear!"
Fleur sighed. Mrs Weasley had invited Fleur, Bill and Gabrielle over for lunch at the Burrow. It was meant to be a distraction after Fred's funeral but Fleur didn't want to go. It wasn't that Fleur wasn't comfortable around her in-laws, but she knew it would be uncomfortable with Gabrielle there. She didn't speak English well at all and Fleur knew she would constantly have to translate; which would be annoying and awkward.
Bill appeared at the top of the stairs with his jeans and a huge grin.
"Why are you so 'appy?" asked Fleur, eying her husband suspiciously.
"Nothing. Just gave your little sister a fright!" he chuckled as he dropped his towel and yanked on his jeans.
"Bill!" cried Fleur sternly. "Why did you do zat? What did you do to her?"
"Nothing harmful, love," Bill reassured her. "I just came up behind her when she wasn't aware and frightened the knickers off of her."
Fleur frowned at her husband. He just grinned goofily as she shook her head. Bill could be very immature; sometimes it was endearing. But at the moment, it was irritating.
"Don't do zat again, okay," she told him, rising from the dresser to go and find her sister. "She iz only twelve."
Gabrielle was sitting on the guest bed in her yellow dress, brushing her silvery blonde hair into stylish waves.
"Knock, knock," said Fleur as she approached, not wanting to catch her sister off guard after being harassed by Bill.
"Qui est-ce?" asked Gabrielle quietly.
"Fleur."
"Ah, oui. Entrer,"
Fleur sat down next to her sister. "Tu bien?"
"Comme ci comme ca," said Gabrielle sadly. "Mes parents ma manquent."
"Moi aussi. Peux-tu parler en anglais pour moi ?"
"Yes. I don't like." Gabrielle hung her beautiful head, ashamed of her poor English skills.
"It's okay, ma petite," said Fleur reassuringly.
"Non!" cried Gabrielle, gazing imploringly at her sister. "Zey make fun!"
"No one will make fun of your Eenglish, Gabrielle. Zey know zat you don't speak it very well."
"Exactement! I speak bad!"
"Shh," Fleur cradled her younger sister in her arms and brushed her lips against her head. She understood exactly what Gabrielle was feeling. Being a native French speaker and knowing very little of the English language, Gabrielle felt very uncomfortable being around fluent English speakers. She was embarrassed, something Fleur could relate to.
"Zey will understand. Don't fret. Now, do you want me to plait your 'air?"
Gabrielle nodded and allowed Fleur to weave her fingers through the luscious, blonde locks. Fleur used to do this when they were young girls. Gabrielle had always had beautiful hair and Fleur loved playing with it. She felt so proud whenever she had created a complex design in Gabrielle's hair and was praised by her mother endlessly.
After ten minutes, Gabrielle's hair had been transformed into an elegant fishtail sweeping down her back.
"Voila!" exclaimed Fleur, proud of her work. "J'ai finis!"
"Merci!" cried Gabrielle and she kissed Fleur's cheeks before rushing to the standing mirror in her bedroom. "Ah, c'est très belle! Merci beaucoup!" Gabrielle twirled in a circle to examine her sister's handiwork.
Fleur laughed. "It iz okay. We are leaving soon, Gabrielle so make sure you are ready. And please try to speak Eenglish while at ze Weasley's.
"Yes," said Gabrielle and Fleur left her sister to admire herself.
xXx
The last time Fleur had been at the Burrow, it was a grim occasion. Now, however, Mrs Weasley seemed to find every excuse to be joyous; probably to keep from going mad with grief for Fred.
"Sera-il 'Arry?" Gabrielle whispered to Fleur as they walked past the pigs towards to Burrow.
"Oui," said Fleur, giggling softly as she watched Gabrielle's face light up with glee. Ever since he had saved her from the bottom of the Black Lake, Gabrielle had developed a sort of crush on Harry; a crush that certainly hadn't dwindled over time given her behaviour at the wedding.
As the three of them neared the Burrow, Fleur spotted Ron, George, Harry and Ginny playing Quidditch in the garden, while Hermione sat under a tree with her nose in a book.
"Oh, you made it!" cried Mrs Weasley happily, running out of the kitchen in her apron and embracing her son and daughter-in-law. "And Gabrielle too! My, my," she exclaimed fondly. "You certainly have grown."
Gabrielle beamed up at Mrs Weasley, totally oblivious to what she said if not for Fleur hushing translations in her ear.
"Th-thank you," Gabrielle muttered weakly, glancing at Fleur for approval. Fleur gave her an encouraging smile.
"Good to see you again, dear," said Mrs Weasley, kissing Fleur's cheeks. "Come on inside, Audrey is helping me with the salad." Fleur obliged.
"Puis-je les joindre?" asked Gabrielle, tugging on Fleur's arm and pointing over to the boys and Ginny.
"Oui," said Fleur. "Mais, faire attention, Gabrielle!" Fleur called after her sister as she skipped over to Hermione.
"I'll go with her," said Bill, giving Fleur a peck on the cheek. "I want to watch Ron get destroyed by Ginny!"
Audrey was in the kitchen chopping some tomatoes, garbed in a pretty pink dress that contrasted well with her short, dark hair. She smiled warmly when she saw Fleur and rushed to embrace her.
"Fleur," she cried happily, gazing up into Fleur's lovely face. Audrey was tiny and round-faced with rosy cheeks and a happy expression that seemed to radiate goodness. "It's so good to finally meet you."
"You too," Fleur replied, grinning down at the dainty woman. She was a few years older than herself, in her mid- twenties.
"Is that your sister?" Audrey remarked as she looked out the window. Gabrielle was cheering on the side-lines of the competitive Quidditch game taking place outside.
"Yes, that iz Gabrielle."
"She looks so much like you. Are you teaching her English?"
"Trying to," replied Fleur, moving to assist Mrs Weasley with roast potatoes. "She doesn't 'ave much self- confidence. She zinks zat people will make fun of her."
Audrey gaped at Fleur. "How can she be self-conscious? If I looked like that at twelve, I wouldn't be afraid of anything!"
Fleur laughed. The women continued their chatter, something that Fleur was grateful for. It had been a while since Fleur had had proper 'woman-talk'. It was the one thing she missed the most about being back in France, apart from her family. Since moving to England, Fleur had lost contact with her friends from Beauxbatons, which she regretted. It was important to have female companionship in her life; and even though her relationship with Ginny and Mrs Weasley was developing, it was nothing compared to Élodie and Antoinette's friendship.
Mrs Weasley, Fleur and Audrey laid the table with lunch of roast chicken, roasted potatoes and green salad. The boys and Ginny came in off their brooms, hot, sweaty and hungry. Gabrielle immediately sat next to Harry and gave him an endearing smile, much to the annoyance of Ginny who resorted to sitting next to Hermione.
"Bon appétit!" cried Fleur throatily and everyone began to tuck into the magnificent meal. Nothing could be heard except the clattering of cutlery against the plates and the grumbling of satisfied stomachs. Suddenly, a silver fox patronus appeared in the centre of the table. Fleur gasped. It was her mother's patronus.
"Ton papa a mort," mumbled the fox with a throaty accent thick with tears. The message was broken off with a shriek from Gabrielle, who rushed from the table, hands clutching her face desperately. Fleur took a moment to react. She thought for a minute she had misheard her mother's patronus. As she glanced up, tears swimming in her eyes, she saw everyone's confused expressions. The only person who understood what had happen was Hermione. Her face was wrought with shock as she gaped at Fleur with wide eyes.
"What happened?" Mrs Weasley whispered to Bill. Fleur glanced at her husband, whose hand had moved to her thigh and gave it a gentle squeeze.
"What's wrong love?" he asked softly.
Fleur shook her head and excused herself from the table, using the excuse of finding Gabrielle to rid her of the presence of people. As she left the table to find her distraught sister, she heard Hermione explain to the family; "Her father just died."
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