The Beautiful Life of a Veela

“Go! Go! Go!”

“C’mon, Griffiths!”

“Yes! Yes!”

“Aaaand Glynnis Griffiths catches the snitch! Propelling the Holyhead Harpies past the Heidelberg Harriers and into the finals next week! The final score: Harriers 160 and Harpies 180. We’ll follow up with Team Captain Gwenog Jones on the pitch momentarily, ladies and gentlemen. Here’s a word from our sponsor Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions. If you have an occasion, she’s got the robes for you—“

“What a good game. The Holyhead Harpies haven’t played that well in years.” spoke Oliver, a friend of Bill’s who had a stop off in town on his way home for the holidays.

“How long is your holiday? Maybe we can meet up for the finals next week,” asked Bill as he pulled his wand from the table in front of them, charming their empty glasses to soar across the living room and into the sink in the kitchen.

“‘Til Monday. Hold on… don’t you have a girlfriend? A fiancé? What does she think about you going to the finals with me and not her?”

“Fleur’s not interested in Quidditch. She pretended to take an interest for a time, but, she couldn’t keep up with me… speaking of which, you’d better get going. She’ll be back any minute and if she sees our mess I won’t live long enough to see the finals.”

So with a drawn out kiss, Fleur stepped over the threshold and out of sight.

He pursed his lips and returned her kiss, reaching up with one of his hands so he could cup his fingers over Fleur’s as it rested against his cheek. His mouth glided over hers, suckling against her bottom lip as they parted, “You don’t need to explain. You don’t need words… I see it, and I can feel it,” Bill felt as if he was back online now after having sat in the dark for so long. He had long since forgotten how to read Fleur’s expressions and her overall body language. Now, he was fully aware and could read her like a book; her eyes twitching as they held each other’s gaze.

Fleur wasn’t the one who needed to convince Bill that she loved him. It was clear from the start; plain as day. It was Bill who had to run the offensive and proactively remind Fleur of his feelings for her. He’s put her love to the test time and time again; dumped one bucket of water after another onto this never-ending fire that was burning inside her heart. Fleur already proved her love; first by agreeing to marry him; second by standing up to his mother when she suggested that she would leave him following his attack; third by fighting alongside him during the battle at the school; and fourth, by giving him a family and two little girls to love for the rest of his life. Now, it was his turn.

As they were getting closer in their little booth, a waitress had approached their table from behind and greeted them with a thick, albeit out of place, American accent, “Hello, could I get you a—oh, hello, Bill. I didn’t recognize you so far from your usual seat at the bar… and wearing a tie? Has the world gone mad? It must be a special night…” she then turned her gaze to Fleur who was practically growing out of his hip because of how close they were sitting together, “And you must be Fleur? The wife? Bill spoke of you all the time. Some of the stories he’d tell would make other patrons lean in and become green with envy… especially the men. I had been bugging him to bring you along someday and it seems he finally took my advice…” she playfully nudged Bill’s shoulder with her hand, “Yes, Shelby, it was because of your badgering I finally decided to bring her around,” he rolled his eyes playfully. “Can I get you both something to drink?”

“I’ll just have a water.”

And that spade he was using to dig up her past was sharp and piercing, painful wasn't enough to describe the hurt deep down inside just his words were scrapping at. She wanted to forget that agony, forget this part of her life and instead drown herself in the happiness and delight Bill and their daughters had made bloom in her heart, it overrode any terrible feeling, any bad thought  that threatened to break her. Her abuser already had far too much power in her life, he had already done too much damage. Fleur fought to keep him out, stop him messing up all the progress she had made. She had battled to leave that experience behind her and find happiness and love where it looked hopeless and bleak. Her road had never been easy, she had struggled against the wounds he had left, they threatened to split open again when she started to get close to men including Bill. But it was Bills love, his patience, his kindness which sewed them back up. They weren’t perfect and Bill had left his own frayed edges and rips in her heart. At only 25 her heart looked like a patchwork quilt from the mistreatment it had undergone, but love and joy was not lacking in this beat up heart of hers.

 "I want to forget eet Bill, eet ‘u-urts too much..I cannot.” A look of distress in her eyes. “I want eet to be just us, when you are not being an idiot you make me ze ‘appiest, I want to be ‘appy wiz you.”

Fleur stared into Bill's familar and comforting face she had forgotten about everyone around them, the music had faded into the background as she soaked in Bill's deep voice. Fleur flinched as a loud confident voice startled her from the little bubble she and Bill had created in that booth. She tore her gaze from her husband to look up at this babbling stranger .

“What ‘ave you been saying about me William?” She slanted her eyes as she moved her head to glare at her husband.

“You’re right, I’m sorry…” it bothered him to hear that he had treated her no differently than most men did. That he was taking control in areas of their marriage that should be shared. His ‘I’m sorry’s were hollow and meaningless if he continued to exercise the same behavior repeatedly. He needed to correct himself before he had a chance to repeat the same mistakes, otherwise, Fleur might lose patience and determine that he is not worth the trouble of loving anymore. 

“Every since the end of the war… I shut down in a lot of ways. I changed. I know that’s not fair to you. We lost friends and family, and, in some ways, you lost me. I allowed jealousy and anger to eat away at me… I’m sorry… What you told me last night—about what happened to you… If something like that happened to you and you have managed to find peace in our life, then I could learn a lot from you. You’re the other half of me that’s been sent to save me. I never believed it fate, or soulmates… I didn’t believe that people were just halves of a set, or pieces of a puzzle… it took meeting you to realize that there were parts of me that were missing, made complete only by your presence in my life. I don’t know if I quite believe in soulmates just yet, but, what I do know, is that I love you so much, and you mean the world to me

Her muscles tightened, her limbs tensed as what was shared the night before, in the darkness of their room, beneath tears and heartache was spoken aloud. She was fearful of the moment he would bring it up, question her for further details, that he would make her live through it again and again as he searched her for answers she didn’t want to give up. She knew it would come, she knew Bill couldn’t leave it at that, but she wasn’t prepared to suffer through it again, and only 24 hours later, it was too painful. And here in the middle of this public establishment, he wouldn’t do that? Would he? She had trusted him. Her breath was held waiting for what was next to come.

Honestly she hadn’t found complete peace when it came to what happened all those years ago as a teenager. The night earlier was a testament to that. The spine crawling fear, the heart wrenching pain would march right back in and start a war in her heart the moment those memories resurfaced but it was Bills presence in her life, his love that fought the tropes that were attacking her heart. It was his presence that had her leaving her horrific past exactly there in the past and giving her a future.

Fleur felt her heart swell and lodge in her throat making it hard to swallow as she soaked in the words rolling off Bills tongue. Fleur watery gaze did not break from his, while extracting her hand from where it rested in his she lifted it up to his face her thumb stroking down his cheek affectionately as she leant in, resting her forehead against his. “I love you too William.” She whispered, tilting her head to capture his lips between her own in a slow adoring kiss.

This was one scar he probably wasn’t going to see all too often, at least, when he wasn’t working. One convenience about not having worn his wedding ring in almost a year was not having to be mindful of its placement on his hand before he went to work. When he returned to curse breaking for Gringotts for the first time following their wedding, he got the idea to remove it for safety. He didn’t want to lose it, and he didn’t want to get it cursed. The last thing he wanted to do was to go home to Fleur and have to explain why he wasn’t wearing his wedding band. She’d probably have kicked him out of the house until he removed the curse from his wedding band 

Now that Victoire was a little older, she was more conversational and was starting to move past only voicing her likes and dislikes. Bill would ask his oldest daughter how everything is at home. Though, truth be told, her facial expression said it all whenever Bill asked, before she even started to speak. Her answers were vague but unapologetically honest. 

‘I can hear Mama cry. Why Mama so sad?’ She would ask him, and he would need to explain to her that her mother is just having a hard time adjusting to their new lives. And Victoire let him know perfectly well that she didn’t like the situation. Her actions over the past year proved that she was, in fact, a Weasley by blood. She had learned what the word ‘revenge’ meant from Uncle George. When he would com by Shell Cottage on the weekends and spend time with her, she would steal one of his boots and hide it somewhere around the house, as if its ‘mysterious’ disappearance was enough to keep her father there permanently. He indulged in her little game for the first few times: crawling on his hands and knees and looking under beds and in cupboards. However, after the 20th time, he stopped playing her game and used the ‘Accio’ charm much to her disappointment. Victoire, however, wasn’t thick. For an almost 3-year-old, she learned rather quickly and had once put her father’s boot into a shoe box, then buried it at the bottom of her toy chest. The end result was a loud explosion coming from the nursery. Bill’s boot came soaring down the stairs, but her room had been littered with toys. When her father confronted her with the mess, she put her hands behind her back and gave him her best, albeit still unsuccessful, poker face, ‘Vee, why was my boot in your toy chest?’

‘Gnomes?’ 

‘We don’t have any gnomes…’ she heard her Nana and Pop complain about their garden gnomes always causing mischief around the Burrow and the little girl decided in that moment that they were the best scapegoats. The little Weasley took it upon herself to fix her family since her parents couldn’t. 

“Listen, about earlier, I’m sorry I just blurted out you going back to Shell Cottage with the girls, and I’m sorry I didn’t discuss it with you first. I know that you and I have a lot to work on, but, part of that is how we manage our time apart, and not just our time together. When Benedict was intercepting our letters, we didn’t get the chance to really talk. As long as we communicate and lay everything on the table, every time, we should be alright, shouldn’t we?”

“Maybe she eez ze best person to teach you, you will not get distracted like you did wiz me. Instead of listening to me you ‘ad your ‘and up my skirt.” Trying to teach Bill to speak French was a mammoth fail. They wouldn’t get very far before she could sense Bill’s hand inching up her thigh, his lips that faltered over the French phrases were gracefully gliding across her neck. The lessons never lasted very long before Bill had left her brain in a haze altering their activities. Fortunately Fleurs English lessons had been at a time when they managed to keep their hands to themselves, their feelings for one another was just a small spark that allowed the pair to behave themselves and keep their attention on the task at hand. Otherwise Bill would still be guessing what she was trying to say in her broken and slaughtered English.

Fleur had to commend her daughter’s attempts at lengthening Bills stay; she couldn’t say she had as much success as the two year old did. That being said had it not been for Victoire he wouldn’t have been there at all. It was for his daughter he visited Shell cottage not for what he called his ex-wife. It was since then Fleur was really beginning to see the intelligence behind her deep blue eyes. It was Fleur’s wish that Victoire would have it better than she did, that others wouldn’t doubt her intelligence the way they had her mother because of her beauty. 

“Eet was not nice to ‘ear you making plans wizout me again. I never wanted to be a wife zat eez just told what to do. Zat eez why I married you because I zought you respect me, because you treated me like I ‘ave a brain.” Fleur didn’t want to be a hollow wife that had all her decisions made for her, where her opinions didn’t matter, that she was just there to do the will of her husband with no concern for her wants and needs.

Bill stood aside and allowed Fleur to slide into the booth before he scooted in next to her. Once they were left to themselves, he turned his attention towards her, sliding his hand across her lap so he could hold her own in his. He traced the pad of his thumb along her skin. Sitting in this booth with her, he was reminded of one of their first social outings together, back when they were smitten but still maintaining a friendly but professional relationship. The pair of them were invited for dinner and drinks by one of their colleagues. At least a half a dozen of them clocked out after a long day at the bank and started towards a local pub. There they had appetizers and drinks, and Bill found himself sandwiched alongside Fleur near the edge of the booth. It was too loud for them to have any sort of lengthy conversation, so they communicated with their eyes, and their hand gestures. The colleagues that bore witness to these interactions were not surprised when the two finally shacked up together.

Bill remembered picking up a muggle camera that had been left on the neighboring table and took a bright photo of Fleur. Whoever had the film developed would be surprised to see a beautiful blonde woman amongst their collection of family photos.

It was one of the few times during the war that he had completely forgotten about all that was going on around them. The loud music, the clanking of glasses, the laughing and chatting of the patrons… but, most of all, Fleur. Helping her improve her English had been a reprieve from the Order, and his boring desk job. He didn’t fall in love easily, but, when it did happen, he fell hard. It’s all consuming. All of these feelings and memories being awakened in him through this simple touch of their hands.

“I know that I need to rebuild the bridge of trust between us… but, I want you to know that I will never make such a stupid mistake ever again. I love you…”

Fleur’s eyes were tugged towards where her hands had rested against her lap, now not only her’s sat there atop the red cotton material of her dress but a larger rougher palm had crept around the smaller delicate hand, her eyes followed his thumb as it moved across her skin exciting every nerve ending beneath. But her gaze faltered as a long unfamiliar mark caught her eye. “What ‘appened?” She whispered, her index finger brushing over a healed scar on the back of his hand. She knew ever scar on his body like it was etched into her brain but this one she didn’t know. Bill couldn’t hide any injury from Fleur, even if it was months old and all healed up. She had learnt about each and every one of his scars over the years their lives had been intertwined, each story that accompanied the mark on his skin. She remembered the first time she had noticed an angry scar blanching his body:

Squeezed closely together around the small table in Bill’s apartment Fleur attempted to pronounce an English word she had been having trouble with when her eyes captured a scar beneath his clavicle peeking out from beneath his shirt. Without her consent, her concealed feelings for this man commanded her actions, her hand extended reaching out towards him, her finger grazed over the raised scar tissue “What ‘appened Beel?” She breathed before raising her head to find his gaze, searching his eyes for an answer while hers filled with concern. This man was just a friend, a colleague, someone she shouldn’t be caressing as she did now.

Bill remembered that first time that Fleur had asked about the scars that line his body from many years of curse breaking. He had abused his body and tested its usefulness over the years. As a result, he had been terribly self conscious about it, especially in the presence of women he fancied. She caught him off guard with her feather-like caress against his chest. One minute he was helping her pronounce the word ‘specifically,’ the next she was pulling aside the collar of his shirt to expose a mark that stretched over his clavicle. However, it wasn’t out of disgust or horror that she inquired about long since healed injury, but out of care and concern for his well being. This woman whom he had known for less than several months at the time. Now, there’s was no injury that he could hide from Fleur, especially one that left an everlasting impression on his skin with no promise of ever going away.

“Really, Fleur, there’s no big story,” he was sure that he dug his own grave years ago by embellishing a few early stories when she first started to inquire about his scars. What he first thought would be intrigue, resulted in concern and fear for his well being on her part, “There are a few more. My wedding ring finger got hocked off a month ago. I had to keep it in ice until our healer could get to us, but, you can’t see the scar now because of my wedding band, so, that worked out,” even when they were properly together, Bill was skeptical about telling Fleur every detail of every unfortunate accident he has had while curse-breaking. He knew that she would drop everything to rescue him from trouble. She would leave both Kingsley and the French Minister on the hook if her husband got himself into some trouble.

“You didn’t hurt me, Fleur. It was Benedict. It was him all along. You did nothing.”

Bill stood aside and allowed Fleur to slide into the booth before he scooted in next to her. Once they were left to themselves, he turned his attention towards her, sliding his hand across her lap so he could hold her own in his. He traced the pad of his thumb along her skin. Sitting in this booth with her, he was reminded of one of their first social outings together, back when they were smitten but still maintaining a friendly but professional relationship. The pair of them were invited for dinner and drinks by one of their colleagues. At least a half a dozen of them clocked out after a long day at the bank and started towards a local pub. There they had appetizers and drinks, and Bill found himself sandwiched alongside Fleur near the edge of the booth. It was too loud for them to have any sort of lengthy conversation, so they communicated with their eyes, and their hand gestures. The colleagues that bore witness to these interactions were not surprised when the two finally shacked up together.

Bill remembered picking up a muggle camera that had been left on the neighboring table and took a bright photo of Fleur. Whoever had the film developed would be surprised to see a beautiful blonde woman amongst their collection of family photos.

It was one of the few times during the war that he had completely forgotten about all that was going on around them. The loud music, the clanking of glasses, the laughing and chatting of the patrons… but, most of all, Fleur. Helping her improve her English had been a reprieve from the Order, and his boring desk job. He didn’t fall in love easily, but, when it did happen, he fell hard. It’s all consuming. All of these feelings and memories being awakened in him through this simple touch of their hands.

“I know that I need to rebuild the bridge of trust between us… but, I want you to know that I will never make such a stupid mistake ever again. I love you…”

Fleur’s eyes were tugged towards where her hands had rested against her lap, now not only her’s sat there atop the red cotton material of her dress but a larger rougher palm had crept around the smaller delicate hand, her eyes followed his thumb as it moved across her skin exciting every nerve ending beneath. But her gaze faltered as a long unfamiliar mark caught her eye. “What ‘appened?” She whispered, her index finger brushing over a healed scar on the back of his hand. She knew ever scar on his body like it was etched into her brain but this one she didn’t know. Bill couldn’t hide any injury from Fleur, even if it was months old and all healed up. She had learnt about each and every one of his scars over the years their lives had been intertwined, each story that accompanied the mark on his skin. She remembered the first time she had noticed an angry scar blanching his body:

Squeezed closely together around the small table in Bill’s apartment Fleur attempted to pronounce an English word she had been having trouble with when her eyes captured a scar beneath his clavicle peeking out from beneath his shirt. Without her consent, her concealed feelings for this man commanded her actions, her hand extended reaching out towards him, her finger grazed over the raised scar tissue “What ‘appened Beel?” She breathed before raising her head to find his gaze, searching his eyes for an answer while hers filled with concern. This man was just a friend, a colleague, someone she shouldn’t be caressing as she did now.

Bill remembered that first time that Fleur had asked about the scars that line his body from many years of curse breaking. He had abused his body and tested its usefulness over the years. As a result, he had been terribly self conscious about it, especially in the presence of women he fancied. She caught him off guard with her feather-like caress against his chest. One minute he was helping her pronounce the word ‘specifically,’ the next she was pulling aside the collar of his shirt to expose a mark that stretched over his clavicle. However, it wasn’t out of disgust or horror that she inquired about long since healed injury, but out of care and concern for his well being. This woman whom he had known for less than several months at the time. Now, there’s was no injury that he could hide from Fleur, especially one that left an everlasting impression on his skin with no promise of ever going away.

Bill stood aside and allowed Fleur to slide into the booth before he scooted in next to her. Once they were left to themselves, he turned his attention towards her, sliding his hand across her lap so he could hold her own in his. He traced the pad of his thumb along her skin. Sitting in this booth with her, he was reminded of one of their first social outings together, back when they were smitten but still maintaining a friendly but professional relationship. The pair of them were invited for dinner and drinks by one of their colleagues. At least a half a dozen of them clocked out after a long day at the bank and started towards a local pub. There they had appetizers and drinks, and Bill found himself sandwiched alongside Fleur near the edge of the booth. It was too loud for them to have any sort of lengthy conversation, so they communicated with their eyes, and their hand gestures. The colleagues that bore witness to these interactions were not surprised when the two finally shacked up together.

Bill remembered picking up a muggle camera that had been left on the neighboring table and took a bright photo of Fleur. Whoever had the film developed would be surprised to see a beautiful blonde woman amongst their collection of family photos.

It was one of the few times during the war that he had completely forgotten about all that was going on around them. The loud music, the clanking of glasses, the laughing and chatting of the patrons… but, most of all, Fleur. Helping her improve her English had been a reprieve from the Order, and his boring desk job. He didn’t fall in love easily, but, when it did happen, he fell hard. It’s all consuming. All of these feelings and memories being awakened in him through this simple touch of their hands.

“I know that I need to rebuild the bridge of trust between us… but, I want you to know that I will never make such a stupid mistake ever again. I love you…”

Fleur’s eyes were tugged towards where her hands had rested against her lap, now not only her’s sat there atop the red cotton material of her dress but a larger rougher palm had crept around the smaller delicate hand, her eyes followed his thumb as it moved across her skin exciting every nerve ending beneath. But her gaze faltered as a long unfamiliar mark caught her eye. "What 'appened?" She whispered, her index finger brushing over a healed scar on the back of his hand. She knew ever scar on his body like it was etched into her brain but this one she didn't know. Bill couldn't hide any injury from Fleur, even if it was months old and all healed up. She had learnt about each and every one of his scars over the years their lives had been intertwined, each story that accompanied the mark on his skin. She remembered the first time she had noticed an angry scar blanching his body:

Squeezed closely together around the small table in Bill’s apartment Fleur attempted to pronounce an English word she had been having trouble with when her eyes captured a scar beneath his clavicle peeking out from beneath his shirt. Without her consent, her concealed feelings for this man commanded her actions, her hand extended reaching out towards him, her finger grazed over the raised scar tissue "What 'appened Beel?" She breathed before raising her head to find his gaze, searching his eyes for an answer while hers filled with concern. This man was just a friend, a colleague, someone she shouldn’t be caressing as she did now.

Even though Bill’s fingers were laced with Fleur’s and the side of their bodies were pressed up against each other’s in the backseat of this small cab, his attention was on the passing attractions in the window. Along the way, they passed by a rather large and extravagantly decorated mosque, one that Bill had visited for the first time almost ten years ago.

Prior to moving to Egypt, Bill had no affiliation with religion or any religious institutions. However, it wasn’t until his first few accidents as a curse-breaker that he sought some form of emotional guidance. One of the Egyptian curse-breakers working on behalf of the Egyptian government and its Minister was praying near Bill’s bedside in the medical tent. Bill had caused the accident. His childish inexperience was to blame which resulted in the death of a Healer after they had become cursed. Gringotts suspended the then 23 year-old for three months, putting him through rigorous training exercises before reinstating him. During this time of intense training and rehabilitation following the incident, this senior curse-breaker shared with Bill the secret to his long luck: a sense of spirituality. He believed that his Islam faith was what kept him alive all these years. He prayed for his safety, prayed for his recovery when things went sour, and prayed for clarity when he was wrestling with his demons. The 23 year-old Bill was taught how to pray before going to retrieve the artifacts, and he still did that almost ten years later. He had a prayer rug that he kept in his tent, and he used it regularly before starting his work day. It was like a meditation for him. His job was about precise control and release, and he needed to clear his head. Feeling looked after and protected gave him a sense of security. In the years to follow, he read the Quran and defines his religious affiliation as spiritual with sporadic Muslim practices.

“You’d prefer just a night on the town instead…? Well, a’right…”

“Fy alwaqie, sydy, yumkinuk ‘an tadeuna min hna.“ (“Actually, Sir, you can let us off here.”) he spoke, the driver having pulled off from the main road towards the curb. They had stopped off at the 26th of July Corridor, just before crossing the bridge onto Gezira Island. Bill paid the fair with muggle currency from his own wallet and waited for the taxi to speed off before he took Fleur’s hand and escorted her across the street. Their alternative destination was the Cairo Jazz Club, “I go to this club almost every evening,” the club was dimly lit with majority bar seating and a few satin booths towards the rear where the stage was situated. A man was perched on a stool in the center of the stage, his fingers strategically grazing the strings of the guitar in his lap with his mouth almost pressed against the microphone in front of him. He was singing softly and Arabic, and had the attention of almost every patron in the venue with the exception of a few sitting at the bar.

“Ah, Bill! 'ahlaan bk!” (“Welcome!”) spoke the host from behind his podium.

“Saabir, min aljid ruyatuk.” (“Saabir, it’s good to see you.”)

“Min hadhih almar'at aljamilat maeak?” (Who is this beautiful woman with you?”)

“This is my wife, Fleur. We were on our way to Saraya Gallery when she declared that she wanted to see more of the city. I decided to bring her here.”

“Wee’lcome, Meesus Weasley,” he politely welcomed Fleur with a nod of his head, “Eet eez our pleas’ore to have you wiz us tonight. You must take her to za beeg light show at za pyramids tonight, yes? Very beautiful!”

“We’ll probably end our night away from home there.”

“Wonderful! Would you prefer a booth tonight?”

“Yes, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“Bialtaakid la. Zare eez one in za back.” (“Certainly not.”)

Bill was right, telling her what he did was stupid, that he felt guilty wasn’t going to help. It wasn;t going to change anything, the damage had been done, there was no going back, only forwards. She already knew his stupidity, that he had made bad decisions, what she needed was to know this wasn’t going to happen again. She needed him to convince her, to show her that he loved her, that he was wholeheartedly back, that he wasn’t going to up and leave like that again. That was in the past now, neither of them could change what happened however much Fleur would have liked those nine months to be wiped away, all they could do was focus on their future together, work on their relationship and returning to what they had before. This time around Fleur wanted things to be different.

 Fleur’s hand gripped tightly as they fought the traffic, weaving through the cars and bikes. In the heart of revving engines and hooting of horns Fleur jammed her body against Bill’s like they were stuck together by glue. Her fingers relaxed in his grip as their feet found the footpath on the other side, she could hear jazz music wafting from one of the store before them, each note ringing louder in her ears as they stepped into a dimly lit bar.

 Fleur unable to understand what was being said in this foreign tongue stood silently at Bill’s side.What she could understand from the jumbled set of sounds, unfamiliar to her ears was that they knew each other and soon the conversation was switched to her as the Egyptian man turned his attention to her completely instead of taking sneaky glances out of the corner of his eye. She could speak in many languages but this was not one of them. Apart from English and French in which she used on a daily basis, she had been taught Slovakian by her grandmother as a child. She wouldn’t boast at being an expert but she understood bits and pieces of German, Spanish and Italian. Living in Europe, her childhood had been immersed in different cultures. Attending Beauxbatons who welcomed students from Spain, Portugual, Netherlands, Luxemburg and Belgian, it wasn’t so hard picking up a language when one listened to it most days for seven years.

Both Bill and Gabrielle looked up when Fleur spoke, Bill’s eyes having lighted up at the sight of her. It had been a while since he had seen her in anything beyond a large jumper and a pair of jeans. Her large breasts and long legs caught his attention, so the dress was serving its intended purpose, “You look beautiful,” he stood up and made his way towards her, pressing a tender kiss against her lips. The bit of weight along her belly didn’t bother him. Fleur’s figure had fluctuated in shape and size over the years as a result of her two pregnancies, and Bill was accustomed to the change. It didn’t concern him that she could no longer fit into her wedding dress as it was originally tailored. He was sure that he wouldn’t fit into his wedding dress robes again, either. He blamed Fleur for that, though. She’s been cooking for three people for the past few years and his portion sizes had doubled as a result. Although he wasn’t pudgy, his waist had healthily thickened and he was no longer lanky and appearing severely underfed.

“I can’t wait to take you out, but, first let’s say goodbye to the girls,” he turned again and this time approached Gabrielle, bending over so he could bring his head close to Dominique, “Mama and I are going now. You be good for your grandparents and your aunt, okay? Be sure to drink that entire bottle of milk that your Nana is keeping cold for you when you wake up. Your Mama made it special for you,” she continued to sleep, completely unfazed by her father, even as he leaned in further to press a kiss against her forehead.

“Let’s go see what Nana is doing in the kitchen…” Arthur spoke as he exited Victoire’s bedroom with her hand still clasped in his, “Fleur and I are leaving, Dad,” Bill informed his father.

“Okay, you two have fun. You want to kiss your Mama and Papa goodbye, Little One?” Arthur asked Victoire and picked her up in his arms. Bill smiled and leaned in to make rapid kissing noises against her cheek, “Are you gonna be good for Nana and Pop? We’ll be home after your bedtime, so we don’t want you to wait up.”

The light in Bills eyes was something she wanted to capture and keep forever. She wanted him to look at her like this every time she walked into the room not that look of disgust that drained through his every feature. It chipped at her heart every time she caught the dislike shining through his gaze. She was used to that very look from many woman who were jealous, the ones who’s men were looking at her the way they wanted to be looked at, but not the man she loved, not her husband. It was a sledge hammer to her chest to hear his words of lost love but to see it no longer on his face where it was steadfast and strong all these years was a pain she could not describe.  

Those words were never so desirable, if only because they were from those lips. The word beautiful she heard too many times a day that the meaning wore off very quickly but the man she loved so dearly was immune, the very same man who hadn’t uttered such words in a very long time. 

She had started cooking for him when they were dating, the first time ever was to thank him for the English lessons he had so kindly volunteered to give her, for the company and maybe an excuse to spend more time with the man who set butterflies loose in her belly. Once she moved in with him she cooked for him almost every night, either a hot cooked meal on the table or leftovers stowed in the fridge when he stayed out late. He must of liked her cooking if he kept eating the meals she put in front of him, and her cooking didn’t last long when he was in the house.

Fleur lowered herself onto the soft sofa cushions next to her sister leaning her chin on her shoulder to get a better look at her daughter. “Tu me manques déjà mon chéri.” I miss you already my darling, she whispered. “ Ne me manquez pas trop, je serai à la maison très bientôt.” Do not miss me too much I will be home very soon. Fleur ran her thumb over her soft cheek; her eyes crunched shut oblivious to the words of her mother. She lifted her chin off her sister’s shoulder so she could turn her attention to Gabrielle. “ Merci de rester et de me soutenir.”Thank you for staying and supporting me. She knew it must have been hard for her sister to stay when she didn’t agree with giving Billl another chance, when she was still livid about what he had done. “Envoyez-moi si elle a besoin de quelque chose.” Send for me if she needs anything, Fleur spoke before pressing a kiss against her sister’s cheek and pushing herself up off the sofa. She could easily sink into the cushions, curl up and sleep away the early evening. She had to force herself up before she got too comfortable and would have to stay there for the rest of the night. All dolled up she needed to go out and show everyone how good she looked only a week after giving birth, she had spent plenty of nights with her hair pulled back messy on the top of her head, clothes that were cosy and comfortable over fashionable. She managed to shed the oversized jumpers for outings beyond their front door. But inside the confides of their home and in the presence of her family comfort with priority with her big belly, aching back and sore feet.

“You don’t need to thank me,” he spoke and remained silent for another minute while Fleur fastened the tie around his neck, “I love you,” he reached up with one of his hands and cupped his fingers against the side of her neck, stroking his thumb along her jaw as he pressed his lips against her forehead, “Now, go on and put something nice on, I’ll wait here with Gabrielle.”

“I think you and I need to talk next…” He addressed Gabrielle after Fleur left, who was still sitting on the far end of the couch with a sleeping Dominique nestled comfortable in her arms, “Non, we don’t. Z’ere eez nozing to talk about. You are back wiz Fleur and zat eez zat.”

“Not so much. I can get on with Matthieu and Apolline hating me, but, not you. You’re like my own little sister. I can’t stand you hating me.”

“Well, you should ‘ave sought about zat before you left Fleur.”

“It was complicated, Gabby.”

“Non, eet wasn’t. You made a choice. You chose to leave and break ‘er ‘eart. Not try, not stick eet out and make eet work. You were a coward.”

It shocked Bill to listen to Gabrielle speak like this. Then again, she wasn’t a little child anymore. She was 17, not 10, as she was when Bill first met her. And, like her mother, her attitude was not misplaced, “You’re right. I was a coward. I’ll admit to that. I thought only of myself and I hurt Fleur and Victoire and Dominique, even though she might not think so being so young. And I hurt you. Fleur was most worried about your impression of me when she first introduced us. More so than either of your parents. She wanted us to get on well, because she loved us both so much. I know that I shattered your impression of me, and I’ve destroyed the bond that you and I have had. I have plenty that I have to make up to Fleur already, but I would like to make it up to you, too. That is, if you’ll let me…”

“Just treat Fleur better, Bill. For ‘er, for me… Please, don’t do zis to ‘er again. Any of it.”

“I won’t, I promise. I won’t be that person again.”

“Good.”

“So, about that tour of the tombs that I promised you seven years ago…”

Gabrielle’s eyes suddenly lit up, “Yes?”

“… What are you doing tomorrow? I’m still on paternity leave, but that doesn’t mean I can’t show up for a couple hours and take you around…”

“I would like zat, Bill. Very much,” she spoke with a smile, probably the first smile of hers that had been directed at him in a long time.

All through their conversation, Dominique slept peacefully in her aunt’s arms. She had a long afternoon, being passed from one relative to the next with no breaks. If only he could get Dominique to fall asleep this quickly. Fleur was clearly the favorite parent of the two, which wasn’t a surprise. Dominique cooperated with her mother. She was soothed by her mother, and allowed her mother to comfort her. Bill, on the other hand, felt that he needed to earn that cooperation. He got her to burp after meals, but, that was a biological response and not necessarily because Bill was doing anything special.

Even though things appeared to be steady during that period of their lives to Fleur it was unpredictable, most nights she did not know when or if Bill was coming home. Those many months Bill was fallacious, he was keeping something from her, she couldn’t deny that despite his many disputes. He was unreliable, she could not count on him completely, returning home late or leaving her high and dry. And that did not change when she was let in on this secret; their life was on rocky grounds, she feared for his life every time he would leave the house, would he come back to her. What was different then that it was now, she was stable in her believe of his love for her, that he wouldn’t stray, and that he wanted more than she could offer. She was oblivious back then and that made it easier, her eyes had been opened and shown what was beneath the surface. What she thought was their stable relationship, underneath was Bill’s silence, his pent up feelings and thoughts, his need for freedom but because he had suppressed so much he had kept himself chained up. And she could not free him without the key.

"J'espère le retrouver en un seul morceau quand je reviendrai.."I hope to find him in one piece when I return, Fleur teased her sister as she left the room. She knew Gabrielle was not impressed by Bill’s behaviour and held a heart full of anger and hurt since she first found her sister a hot mess of tears. Just as Fleur cared deeply for her little sister and would do anything to protect her, the same could be said about Gabrielle. She was older now, she was able to do the looking after now and not just be taken care of. She had grown up safely protected under her big sisters wing, now it was her turn to take that role. Unlike her mother Fleur could trust Gabrielle alone with Bill and not worry about returning to a crime scene.

Fleur had already a dress in mind when she started sorting through the rack of dresses. The one that would cover her belly, to hide the small bump of Dominique's home that hadn’t quite yet disappeared, her uterus still shrinking back down to size. One to show off her long legs and inflated breasts distracting the eye from her middle and the spot she was feeling a little self-conscious about.

"Zank you Molly for zis." Fleur spoke as she entered the kitchen her hand grasped around a bottle of her warm breast milk. “It’s my pleasure my dear. You and Bill need some time to patch things up and I need some time with my granddaughters.” Molly was busying herself in the small kitchen as she spoke. "I will put my milk in zee fridge if Dominique needs eet later." She was doubtful that Dominique would drink from the bottle, she had a hard enough time getting her to drink from her breast. And Victoire was the same she was fussy and wouldn't take the bottle over her mother’s nipple. “Thank you Fleur. You said in your letter that she’s having trouble feeding?” Fleur nodded. “She eez getting better but eet eez not easy like eet was wiz Vee.” Fleur’s eyebrows knitted together in concern. “Every baby is different and as long as shes getting enough milk which she looks like she is that’s all that matters.” That’s what everyone kept telling her but it couldn’t quiet relieve all the worry, a small ripple lingered in the pit of her stomach. “You will send for me if she needs anyzing, yes? I can come back any time.” Fleur’s eyes searched Molly’s for reassurance, she would be back in a flash if her babies needed her. “Go have some fun with Bill.” Molly shuffled her out the door into the living room. “Don’t worry about anything, we’ll be fine.”

“Thank you,” he spoke with a smile in response to Fleur complimenting his appearance. It wasn’t often that he put on a suit and tie without first having had to be coerced into wearing the monkey suit by Fleur. It was the first suit she had bought him during their first Christmas together. With plans to spend Christmas Eve with her family and Christmas morning with his, she tugged him along the snow-filled Paris streets and into an Atelier NA - Costume et Chemise sur mesure Paris St. Honoré. The shop owner had closed his store to the public as a personal favor to the Delacours. Being a friend of the family, more specifically the husband to one of Apolline’s high society friends, he was more than happy to oblige. Normally accustomed to dressing French men of considerable taste, Bill was the last thing he expected to see walking through his doors on the arm of the eldest Delacour daughter.

Upon first seeing him, he asked, ‘Excusez-moi, le récipient ne doit-il pas être pris jusqu'à lundi?’ Excuse me, the receptacle isnt to be picked up until Monday? Assuming that this ripped jeaned, fanged-earring wearing man was there to pick up the garbage. Bill was probably the worst customer he had ever had, but Bill managed to get a tailored suit out of the ordeal, and paid for by his girlfriend. It only seemed appropriate that he wear it again now.

“It’s not a scarf, Sweetie. It’s called a tie, because ties around your neck. I’ve just come so your Mama can tie it for me,” he could just as easily tie it with magic, but that would deprive Fleur of her chance to be involved, even if it was something as little and domestic as fastening a tie, “You’re going to stay here with your sister. Me and Mama are going to go out for a little while. Nana and Pop will play with you and make you dinner and put you to bed.”

 Fleur didn't feel as though she fitted in with his unpredictability; she was always in the rear, trying to keep up not knowing which way he was going to turn next. It was only now she was truly realising this part of him. In the beginning it was covered by his need to be in Britain with his family fighting the war, and she kept him grounded to shell cottage in the years that followed but that wasn't the case anymore, she couldn't hold him anymore; he would just slip through her fingers.  

 Fleur was transported back all those years ago, a bounce in her step as they walked down the Parisian street, both wrapped up in thick coats, Fleurs arm wound around his, snuggling in close to his warmth. They could have just appearated in the alleyway a couple stores down but Fleur had opted to take the long walk through the city to admire the Christmas spirit, to introduce Bill to Paris at Christmas time. It was Fleur's favourite holiday, the snow that covered everything in a pure white tinge, brightening the darkness that settled during winter time, the lights that twinkled at night, the music that was almost like magic.

It was one of Fleur's Christmas gifts to Bill, to purchase him a nice suit, he had assumed they would go down to a generic store in London. Fleur was not having that, she would take him to Paris where they made suits properly, to someone who was trusted, who would make Bill look impeccable. It might have been the more expensive option but Fleur wanted the best for her Bill.

She had sat at a distance watching as Bill was measured up and fitted, a big grin glided over her face when he finally came out in his finished suit. It was the same smile that lifted her lips now.  

 "Where you go? I wanna come." Victoire whined. Fleur took a deep inhale and exhaled before she began again fearful of her daughters reaction to them leaving. "You will not like eet Vee eet will be boring for you, you will 'ave fun 'ere wiz your Nana and Pop. You 'ave not see zem for a long time, do you miss zem?" Victoire nodded "Nana will make you a yummy dinner and Pop will read you your favourite story. Yes?"

Fleur pulled Victoire off her lap "Show Pop ze new books you got for Christmas." Fleur whispered letting her feet find the floor before she released her hold. Returning her attention to Bill, lifting her arms to find the ends of the material hanging from his neck as Victoire ran off, grabbing her grandfather’s hand and pulling him along to her bedroom. "Thank you" She whispered as her fingers worked to loop the material around itself. She could feel Bills warm breath against her forehead, catching the small strands across her hairline as they stood close. This small act was a lot bigger in her mind than one would imagine, she took it as Bill letting her in. He was letting her be a part of his life again, not just an observer but a contributor.

It may only be a small gesture but it was a start, it planted hope inside Fleur that he would keep letting her in slowly.

This was exactly why she brought her concerns up with Arthur and not with her mother. She had hoped that Victoire was keeping her occupied and she and Arthur were further enough across the room to avoid such a reaction. She was wrong. She needed encouragement, what she didn’t need was her mothers negativity, she knew full well what her mother thought and felt about Bill, so she wanted someone elses opinion that she respected. She wanted a new piece of advice, not the same piece that dragged the person she loved through the mud along with her own ability to make the right decisions. She wanted some honesty not her mothers bias opinion repeated over and over. 

Fleur was under the impression her mother had said her piece already to Bill himself, that the threat had passed but it came when she wasn’t looking, she wasn’t expecting it and this time it was catastrophic. Victoire curled up in response to her grandmother’s raised voice, bringing her legs up to her chest, her hands over her ears attempting to hide herself in her grandfather’s side. “Mama, you are scaring Victoire.” Fleur chimed in her protectiveness as a mother kicking into gear. But she wouldn’t listen. 

 "Je connais papa. Je ne vais pas contester ce qu'elle dit, une partie de ce qu'elle dit est vraie et je suis d'accord avec des morceaux.Mais elle ne peut pas dire ces choses, surtout pas à notre famille. J'ai choisi cela et elle doit me respecter et ma décision.“ I know papa. I will not dispute what she says, some of what she says is true and i agree with bits and pieces. But she can’t say these things, especially not to our family. I have chosen this and she needs to respect me and my decision. Fleur was not happy with her mothers outburst but that didn’t stop her from returning his kisses and whispering “Je t'aime papa” before watching him walk out the door. She was on the fence whether her mother should come back or not. She was still very angry and this environment was only fanning the flames. And she definitely didn’t want a repeat of what just happened. Maybe it would be better for her to have some space, ideally getting rid of some of this anger before coming back. 

 "I am sorry Arzur, you did not deserve zat, my mozer eez a very ….“ Fleur paused searching for the word in English to express her mothers firey-ness ”..Like a explosion.“ She finished, reaching out with a free limb resting it against the side of his arm. "I feel embarrass, I should not ‘ave say anyzing.” She shook her head humiliated, she wanted to hide, to disappear out the door just as her parents had done. This was her father-in-law, one of the nicest men she had met, he had always been so kind, from the moment she met Bills family, he was the one that accepted her, welcomed her into the family while Molly refused. “You ‘ave been so kind to me, I 'ate she speak to you like zis." 

"Zat eez what scare me, 'e likes adventure." It was not only that he was attracted to danger, that he kept getting himself into situations that could have very easily ended up with him dead, he continued to risk his life and the life they had together because of this adventurous streak but it also lead to him needing a high level of excitement in his life. And it had Fleur wondering did she and their life together provide him with enough exhilaration to not have him bored and searching for something to fill the gap. The last year would have her answering no, and had her questioning would it happen again? would he again become uninterested and distant? leaving her and the girls to find a better life, a woman that sparked something inside of him? "'e does not zeenk 'e just do eet." Fleur never knew what Bill was going to do next and that frightened her, he didn’t tell her, he would just do and shed find out in the aftermath, she couldn’t stop it she had to deal with the consequences. "You do not worry Ma belle Cheri" Fleur ran her fingers through her matching shade of silver tinted hair, placing a kiss against her forehead. "You only worry about giving mama lots of kisses yes?”