Riel Delacour

RIEL DELACOUR  is attending Madam Rosmerta’s Murder Mystery Dinner with FLEUR DELACOUR-WEASLEY and BILL WEASLEY dressed as ‘A FRENCH PERSON’ to make a subtle statement against appropriation in hallow’s eve costumes and an excuse to smoke throughout the evening in secret. at least they brought real baguettes

CLOSED STARTER @delefleur

~

“Look, I get that it is very dangerous to be out alone, and I understand that this is an exclusive event.” Riel started, shoving their hands into their pockets and shifting their weight uncomfortably. The trio had just arrived and Riel already felt backed into a corner in this party full of older people. They regretted almost instantly their costume choice; if they knew everyone else would be choosing characters to embody instead of concepts, Riel would have been something more likeable. Less snarky. Something that wouldn’t get a side-eye and an ‘oh, cute.’. Though what was to be expected; the wix hadn’t dressed up for Halloween since their school years.

“I am grateful, truly.” They sighed, saying what was expected though Riel wished they were somewhere with less eyes. “But you must see how odd it feels for me to accompany my married sister and her husband to the grown-up table, dearest sœur.” 

.

“Yeah, I guess you could say I’ve got my head stuck in the clouds,” Michael chuckles with a blush on his face, tucking the book underneath his arm, finally deciding on the journal. He considers Riel’s answer before he shrugs, “That’s fair. I mean, a grimoire is technically a collection of records, so that’s not too far off. Maybe you should get one, even if they are too nice,” He nods to the shelf and the many selections of the leather bound journals. 

“It started off as a work thing. I used to do a lot of research so writing everything down sort of became a habit. But in my most humble opinion, every good Wix should start their own grimoire. I mean, where would we be today without all the great Wix of our time jotting down and recording their spells, right?” 

.

A grimoire as a collection of records, not like a muggle fairytale. Exactly the sort of thing they were looking for. “That’s a beautiful way to look at it,” They said out loud, before considering their own word choice, “I’m not sure if I consider what I do is worth recording, but there’s a sort of poetry to writing in it anyway.” There was a poetry in the way that this man looked at life that intrigued Riel. 

“You make quite a good point.” Riel agreed with a slow nod, holding the journal that they both originally had chosen back in their hands. The leather and weight of the book felt good, calming even. “You’re a great salesperson, by the way. If you’re not doing so professionally, I think you should consider a career change.”

“I do, but I have yet to replace it from the last time. So, as the muggles say, I’ve screwed myself over quite a bit.” He shrugs. He could spell some clothes, there had to be some spell or charm to make it happen. His brain was so fried from this shift, he couldn’t be bothered to remember any. Some wix you are.

“Rather busy, but I can’t imagine why. It seems everyone and their mother has gotten themselves horribly sick or injured themselves in some horrid way.” It shouldn’t make him laugh, it wasn’t remotely funny. Riel probably thought of it as strange, but the stress of the day was making him somewhat tired beyond proper functionality. “Waiting for your sister, I assume?”

“I love the way muggles speak here.” Riel stifled the urge to giggle even though they could only hear the word ‘shaggin’ over and over in their mind. Sure the same could be said about their French; sometimes the ‘the’s’ became ‘ze’s’, because ‘th’ sounds were imaginary in so many other languages Riel spoke. To understand languages was an art that they loved to observe. 

“I thought the holidays were the worst for all of that, but I’ve been busy too. Perhaps the inclement weather?” A sigh escaped from their lips as they settled back into the bench, a touch more at ease. Something about the presence Kaz had always put Riel on edge. “As always. Did you see her in there, is she actually leaving work yet?”

*          ─          delacour     ,     r     .

if     parvati     was     to     tell     the     truth     ,     she’s     NEVER     liked     hospitals     .     as     a     child     she’d     be     sullen     when     dragged     for     regular     checkups     ,     a     chimeric     change          :          bubbly     ,     𝚐𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚞𝚕𝚘𝚞𝚜     girl     turned     surly     and     tight     -     lipped     .     padma     was     always     better     than     she     was     ,     like     she     understood     innately     the     way     it     all     worked          ;          medical     puzzle     pieces     came     to     fit     together     in     a     way     parvati     could     never     quite     WORK     OUT     .          (          padma     was     going     to     be     a     healer     ,     if     the     war     hadn’t     been     quite     as     devastating     as     it     had     /     would’ve     been     a     good     one     ,     too     .     such     steady     hands     ,     such     a     calming     tone     that     never     failed     to     soothe     an     overanxious     sister’s     conscience     .               )          the     tang     of     eucalyptus     disinfectant     sends     a     ferocious     shiver     down     her     spine     ,     and     it     𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐓     be     noticeable     if     someone     mentions     it     .

“          yeah     ,     i’m     fine     .          ”          as     if     on     cue     ,     parvati     tugs     at     the     thin     fabric     of     her     cardigan          (          stolen     from     her     mother’s     wardrobe     ,     how     typical          )          and     waves     a     dismissive     hand     .          “          waiting     for     a     𝗳𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗱     .     i     just     fuckin’     HATE     this     place     .          ”

Riel looked over and noticed similar cues of nervousness, bordering anxiety that they also experienced. While they liked to pick at the beds of their nails, it seemed as though this woman picked at fabric. It almost seemed sort of soothing to see someone who comforted herself in the same way, and disliked hospitals similarly. 

“I share that sentiment.” Riel agreed readily. “Which is why I stay out here unless I absolutely have to go in. I don’t mind first aid and broken bones, but the smell is too much.” They were quite accustomed to blood and broken bones from years of Quidditch management, but the smell of whatever the cleaned hospitals with was overwhelming. 

heartofcoal​:

“you should take some pepperup.” maybe it wasn’t the right quick fix for running naturally cold, but nazli wasn’t a healthcare professional, which meant they didn’t have to advise by the book - in their mind, at least. besides… right or wrong, it was something their dad had always done for them. “just a drop in your morning coffee. or tea. or… whatever. it’s not hard to brew, either.” if you knew your way around a cauldron, that was. nazli took a slow drag from their cigarette, missing the memo that riel was uncomfortable and keeping their gaze on them the whole time. “you’re welcome.”

“P-pepperup?” Riel was caught off guard by a word they didn’t recall. They were quite prideful in their vocabulary, though they often tripped over their own speech. Not quite as eloquent as their sister, not even close. “Is that native to the area? Oh, ze, uh, ‘stream ears potion’?” Immediately, Riel regretted asking, hating to give away their own weaknesses. 

The cigarette immediately caught Riel’s attention and stopped them in their tracks. They smoked, frequently, as it was a poor habit they caught back in France, but never around Fleur. “Would you mind if I take a drag? If my sister catches me smoking she’ll kill me.” 

RIEL

Angelina looked back St. Mungo’s and nodded. Rough wasn’t the word for it. There were days where Angelina was ok; where she thought everything was fine and she could go on living her life like everything was normal. Then there were days like today where everything seemed to remind her of the war. (it could be that she was woken up at 5 am, but she highly doubted that alone was the reason)

“You have no idea,” she muttered. Then something occurred to her. “Are you- you’re not waiting on someone, are you? I mean, like a patient.” Merlin, she was so insensitive sometimes. (there were days when she wondered how she’d made it through the healer program)

“Oh, no, not a patient.” Riel dismissed the idea and smiled politely. “Ma sœur works here. Sister. You probably know her, or have worked with her.” Whenever they got nervous, Riel would speak more than they cared to and usually slipping back into their native tongue. They took pride in having known English for most of their life, and were quite good at it, but the faster they spoke the more French made sense. 

“I am Riel Delacour. Fleur Weasley’s sibling.” Taking a deep breath, their words becoming more clear. “Are you two, friends perhaps?”

heartofcoal​:

Contrary to most people, Josie didn’t DISLIKE hospitals. Sure, they weren’t her favourite place in the world ( that title went, of course, to her reading chair in her apartment, preferably under a blanket with a mug of tea beside her, but these were optional ), but, generally speaking – she didn’t actively avoid them. Of course, she wasn’t going to go to one unless she had to – so, why was she here today? Good question.

Through a series of rather unfortunate decisions ( most of them fuelled by alcohol ), one Josie’s roommate had found themselves falling through the glass coffee table they had in the living area. As if the mess wasn’t bad enough, they’d managed to get glass into just about every part of their body, and Josie’s first instinct had been to take them to St Mungo’s – there was no way she was equipped to deal with that on her own.

“Oh? Yeah, I’m fine.” She says as she realises she’s being spoken to, looking over to the other person on the bench and offering them a tight smile. It’s a little chilly, but Josie had taken off the jumper she’d been wearing upon arriving at the hospital and shoved it into her bag ( it had become quickly covered in her roommate’s blood, and she had no intention of wearing it around ), though this left her now in nothing but a t-shirt. “My jumper’s gotten a bit wrecked now, anyway. Hopefully won’t be waiting much longer, though.”

“Hopefully.” Riel remarked, giving a soft corner lip grin towards the woman next to them. She didn’t look like she were the one in need of care, but the comment about the soiled jumper made them think twice. It wasn’t really any of Riel’s business in the first place. “Shift change is coming soon, though, so it might be a bit longer.” 

While waiting for Fleur, Riel often had to wait a little longer than promised because of shift changes. Never wanting to work in a hospital themselves, Riel knew an awful lot about how they ran. Enough that maybe, if things got bad again in the world and they needed more wix healers than broom healers, they would consider a career change. Not that they didn’t love their job more than life itself. 

RIEL

LOCATION: outside of St. Mungo’s

STATUS: open

Angelina swore this was the longest day of her life. She’d been woken up at 5 A M by the owls of one of her patients. (She loved her job, but sometimes she just wanted to sleep in til noon and eat fish and chips for breakfast.) So, she’d come into the office at six because she was already awake and unable to go back to bed. By noon, she was almost asleep in her office. (The only thing that kept her awake was the fact that she didn’t feel safe enough to sleep anywhere but her own bed.) Instead of trying to pass her hour lunch in the solitude of her office, she’d come outside to enjoy the cool air and hopefully wake herself up a bit. 

Glancing down at her short sleeve blouse and black skirt, she nodded. The cold never really bothered her though. (She blamed Oliver and his ridiculous practice schedule.) “Yeah, I’m ok,” she said messaging her forehead. “Being out here is better than being in there right now.” 

Riel thought quietly to themselves if maybe they were bothering the witch more than trying to make polite conversation. She looked busy and tired, but everyone was and no one ever stopped looking tired, maybe with the exception of Fleur. Fleur never looked even a bit exhausted, and Riel was under the impression that maybe their sister got the better bit of the quarter-veela genes. 

“I can imagine it’s a bit rough in there right now.” Riel gave a solemn nod as they understood the witch’s pain. Their sister shared all of their horror stories and tales of never-ending shifts. They decided to leave the conversation open in case the healer wanted to enjoy her time alone. 

heartofcoal​:

LOCATION: outside of St. Mungo’s

STATUS: open

there was no other way to say it : merry was dragging her feet, hovering at the front of the hospital in hopes that if she passed enough time, she wouldn’t have to head back to the archives today. she had never been the sort of person to skive off classes or pull a sickie - she probably wouldn’t have gotten away with it, either, with a mum like seraphina - but that didn’t mean she didn’t sometimes want to. there was only an hour left, and the only thing she had left to do was pack away all the files she’d gone through, earlier that morning. she’d much rather go home. 

she doesn’t recognise riel, on first glance. nor on the second. in her defense, she hadn’t been a very perceptive young woman, back at beauxbatons - and she’d only been close to fleur. “i’ve been living here long enough, now, to feel quite impervious. are you feeling the chill?” 

“It is not often I feel warmth here.” The wix agreed with the woman’s statement and looked at them once again. It wasn’t often that Riel forgot a face, and hers looked strikingly familiar. Names were the thing that escaped them, more frequently than not. “I never got used to the weather here. I do enjoy layering everything and staying warm, though. Flannels seem to be a big thing amongst wixen here.” 

Trying to deduce who they might be talking with, Riel took into account that they’ve lived ‘here’ long enough. In the area, or the country? Were they from home? She sounded lightly French, but with an established sort of English undertone. Instead of flat out asking, Riel decided to dig more lightly. “Have you been here long, then?”

“Oh, uh,” Michael rubs the back of his neck with a laugh. It’s a question that takes him a little off guard, and perhaps it’s just a tad bit personal as well. How could he even begin to explain what he’ll be using it for? Jotting down spells, tarot card pulls, description of crystals, plants, and herbs, dream analysis, moon cycles– “I dabble in a few things,” he says finally, pressing his lips together before continuing, “I need a new grimoire. The one at home is almost full and figured if I didn’t get one today, I’d put it off until the last minute.” Michael chuckles, grabbing the journal next to the one the two of them almost reached for. He flips through the pages, raises a brow at Riel, “What about you? What would you use it for?”

Riel watched as he flitted back and forth between being flustered and settled, comforted by a topic he seemed to know so much about. It started small and then blossomed into a whole topic in itself, which was amusing for them to watch unfurl. 

“Oh! I’ve only ever read of grimoires, and mostly in fantasy!” They blinked, using a hushed tone as they spoke while looking around to see if they were too loud for anyone around. “Quite honestly, I just need something simple for work, keeping records and such. This is a bit too nice for what I require, but I can’t help but imagine having one all the same.”

“But please, tell me more about what possessed you to start a grimoire?”

at the sudden realisation that cho’s on-looker wasn’t a stranger, and instead a familiar friend that took the form of riel made her relax significantly. “ riel, it’s good to see you, despite this very embarrassing circumstance on my part. ” she started through a light chuckle, properly greeting the younger wix once she was close enough. cho wasn’t about to question as to why she carried around a bag of tools, especially since it worked quite well in her situation right now. “ in that case, i think it’s better that you do the honours. i don’t want to possibly break anything that you have in there. ”

“The only breaking we will be breaking...” Riel gave a delighted grin while pulling out a tension wrench from their shopping bag “...is breaking and entering.” It was one of Riel’s favorite things to do when younger; locking themselves in rooms and then having to pick their way out. Back then, all the had was a bobby pin and maybe a wire coat hanger. Now, as an adult who used and broke tension wrenches to tighten bolts, had much better odds. 

“This can help with the physical lock itself, what enchantments do you have on it though?” 

heartofcoal​:

LOCATION: outside of St. Mungo’s

STATUS: open

After working at St.Mungo’s for years now, Kaz grew tired of sitting inside the hospitals on what is supposed to be his break. The sterile smell got nauseating after a while, he learned to start sitting outside instead. He usually sat alone, he stifled at least three quarters of his annoyance at being interrupted on his break when Riel spoke to him. 

“It is, unfortunately I left mine at home.” Kaz responded with a shrug, stuffing his hands in his pants pockets. “I’m sure I can muster up a spell to dry off anyway.”

“I would imagine you keep a whole change of clothes here.” Riel assumed, letting their shoulders relax back into the bench with the comfort that Kaz was in a favorable mood, at least for the time being. It was always nice to see him; usually when he was working, Riel wouldn’t dare bother him with small talk. But it looked like he needed a little humanizing conversation. 

“How are things?” They asked, twitching the corner of their mouth at the question. Riel wasn’t sure why such niceties were sticking to the roof of their mouth, and didn’t like it. “I mean, how’s work?” fuck. 

heartofcoal​:

LOCATION: outside of St. Mungo’s

STATUS: open

they weren’t waiting to go inside. they hadn’t even waited very long to be seen when they’d arrived a few hours before - the perks of having a pretty rare condition were few and far between, but at least they had a fast pass through the waiting room queue. two strong doses of stabilising potion administered a few hours apart meant they were steadier on their feet than they’d been when they arrived, and nazli was just waiting for the go ahead to leave, now - they really didn’t want to stay all night, but passed the time waiting for their healer to free them with a cigarette outside. “what?” their words only register a moment too late. nazli looks down at their outfit and shrugs. “i’m fine. a bit too warm, actually.” 

Riel looked over the person next to them and gave a shrug. Small talk was never quite their style, yet another thing their sister flourished in that they did not. Not that it mattered much to Riel, who couldn’t care less about sitting in silence on the bench. Now they had made it awkward, though, to not respond back, even if it was a bit unwanted. 

“Oh, sorry.” They searched around in front of them for something else to look at, aside from the person next to them. “Sometimes I forget that I am always cold. Air conditioning is torture.”