Chapter Text
So far, Fleur Delacour had not considered her job at the English branch of Gringotts particularly interesting. In fact, she would go as far as saying it was dreadfully boring. Aside from the obvious reason for this (being that it was located in England) she also found that the building was dreary, the goblins rude, and the work tiring.
It was on one of these dreary days that Fleur was walking through an upper level of Gringotts, contemplating how dearly she would rather be back at Les Gringotts de Paris, when she saw that the room right next to her office was no longer a small storage cupboard. In its place appeared to be another office, bigger even than Fleur’s, complete with fake sunlight flowing in through high windows.
Fleur walked slowly down the corridor, attempting to get a better peak into the office and its new occupant. When she got close to the door she glanced into the office, where she managed to see a simple desk in the center before-
Smack.
Fleur pitched backwards as a body came out of the office and slammed right into her.
‘Eugh!’ she balked as she felt the dirty floor beneath her. She looked up at the stranger to see that, one: it was a man, two: he was holding out a hand to help her up, and three:
She had met him before.
‘William Weasley.’ She said, matter-of-factly, as she accepted his hand up.
‘Er, yes. I don’t think we’ve met.’ he replied, looking her up and down. He still looked a little stunned, but as most wizards looked stunned in her presence, Fleur paid this no mind. ‘You’re Fleur Delacour, Right?’ He said, when he had retrieved his voice.
‘Oui . I remember you. You came to see Harry Potter.’ She said. Now that she stood back and looked at him, she could see that William was somehow even more handsome than he had been the last time she had met him a few months ago.
‘Well I’m surprised, I can’t have been near you for more than thirty minutes.’
‘I am very good at remembering.’ Fleur smiled, and noticed him glance at her lips. For some reason this made her smile wider.
Fleur generally ignored wizards’ obvious enamourment with her looks, as it happened far too often to pay any mind to. But for some reason, William Weasley’s long hair and dragon hide jacket and fang earring had her wanting to put her charm on full blast, so that he might look at her lips all day.
That, however, would be highly unprofessional. So instead, Fleur toned down the charm as much as she could, and reverted back to her usual business-like tone.
‘I see you have moved in to the next door,’ She watched as he reeled back into reality and looked firmly away from her face.
‘Yes, I’m back in England for the foreseeable future, so I’ve taken a desk job. If your office is next to mine, I’m guessing you’re also dealing with imported treasure?’
‘From France, and sometimes Central Africa. Once my English is getting better I hope to work as a translator.’
‘Well,’ William smiled in a ruggedly charming way that made her blush. To think, her blushing! This was going to be a problem. ‘I’m dealing with treasure imports from North Africa, so perhaps we’ll be working together.’
‘Perhaps,’ Fleur was tempted to counter with her own, thoroughly charming, smile; but she resisted. It would make a poor impression to seduce her coworkers, even if they had inadvertently charmed her first.
With that Fleur turned on her heel and marched back to her office. Before she could step inside, William was calling her name.
‘Yes?’ She asked, turning back around.
‘Most people just call me Bill.’
Fleur smiled. ‘I will remember that, Bill .’
Then she turned back into her office, leaving him standing in the corridor. When she was safely inside she allowed herself to smile, feeling a rush of giddy excitement.
What was she doing? It was rare any man captivated her attention enough to be graced with a smile, never mind a bout of girlish giggling.
Really she thought. She had a full time job as well as a secret defence organisation to help. There were reports to write and a notorious dark wizard to defeat; this was absolutely no time to be chasing after handsome curse breakers.
No time at all, She thought decisively. And with that, she forced her attention back to a cursed tiara imported from France.
~~~
Whatever allure Fleur held over Bill dissipated quickly as they worked together, and within a few days of seeing her regularly he was so professional that she almost wondered whether he was batting for another team.
As sorely disappointing as this was, it was all for the better, she reminded herself. She was much too busy.
While her workload remained steady at Gringotts, the work she did for Professor Dumbledore’s secret organisation seemed to be growing exponentially. Every day after work Fleur disillusioned herself and headed down to a range of rough wizarding pubs to listen for loose-lipped death eaters, or collected information from sources across the country, including a very batty old lady with a lot of cats.
Though the work was rewarding, Fleur couldn’t pretend it wasn’t also draining. Most days she did not get to sleep until past midnight, as even after she returned home
she still had to write up all of her findings.
On top of all this, she was also regularly taking English lessons.
That was how she found herself sitting in a cafe on a warm summer day, spending her lunch break pouring over sentence structures with her tutor, Mr. Podmore.
Podmore, unlike Weasley, was not immune to her charms. She often had to slap him awake to regain his focus, which then lasted about ten minutes before he was staring, slack jawed, again.
It was not an ideal situation. Podmore, she understood, worked for the Department of International Magical Cooperation, and had even less spare time than her. He was however, the only person she could find that spoke French well enough to tutor her in English.
When Podmore became enthralled by her chest once again, Fleur began packing up her books. She wouldn’t be learning much else today, and her lunch break would be much better spent reviewing her tiara report.
And if she had an opportunity to stare wistfully through the window into Bill Weasley’s office, then that was entirely coincidental.
Bill greeted her as she walked past his office, and she felt a sudden thrill at getting a chance to talk to him.
‘How is the tiara coming?’ Professional as ever , she thought. It did make a nice change after the English lesson, though; to speak with someone that looked you in the eye rather than the chest.
‘Not very bad, I think we have most of its powers – how do you say it? Disabled? – but the French importers are not telling us what exact curses are on it, so we can not give it to the treasury yet.’
‘I see,’ Bill said, thoughtfully. ‘Makes people's heads shrivel up, doesn't it? I encountered a similar object in Faiyum, maybe I can take a look.’
I wish you would, Fleur thought, as his eyes flitted over her but did not linger. Really, what was getting into her?
Instead she said, in her most professional tone, ‘I would be most thankful for that.’
And before she could embarrass herself, she hastily exited his office.
It was like having her own powers used against her! She thought, and found herself feeling suddenly very empathetic towards the poor men around her.
~~~
A few weeks later, when Fleur sat down at the same cafe for another English lesson, she was annoyed to find Podmore nowhere in sight. She waited, thoroughly irritated, for ten minutes before she got up to look around the cafe.
After another ten, it became obvious Podmore was not coming. Fleur threw her coffee cup rather harder than necessary into the rubbish bin, and set off back to Gringotts in a decidedly bad mood.
Bad enough was his incessant staring that held up their lessons, but to blow her off completely? This would be her last lesson with him, she was sure. She would not give another knut to that conceited, pig headed, insufferable-
‘Fleur!’
Fleur was snapped out of her reverie by Bill Weasley’s shout. Without input from her brain, her feet had carried her back to Gringotts, and she was now standing in the bright light of the entrance hall.
‘I tried calling you three times; are you okay?’
‘Sorry, Bill. My thoughts were distracting me.’
‘Mm,’ Bill agreed, as he fell into step beside her, and they made their way up the stairs together. ‘What thoughts are plaguing you? If you don’t mind me asking.’
‘It is silly. I was to have an English lesson today, but my tutor- ah, how do you say?- was absent?’
‘Oh, they didn’t show up?’ Fleur nodded glumly in response.
‘A dreadful waste of the lunch break.’ She added.
‘Who was tutoring you? I might know where they went.’
‘Do not bother yourself. This is just the most recent part in a series of much inappropriate behaviour.’
‘Ah.’ Bill said, concisely.
They walked together in silence for a bit.
‘I’d still like to know who it was, though. If you want to tell me.’
Fleur wrinkled her nose and then said, ‘Sturgis Podmore.’
She saw a flicker of something like panic cross Bill’s face, and when they reached his office he pulled her inside without warning.
‘Bill!’ Fleur said, indignantly. He let go of her arm once he had closed the door, but it angered her all the same. She hated to be touched unexpectedly, especially by men.
‘Sorry,’ he said, his face hard. Fleur forgot her anger, suddenly curious as to what all the secrecy was about.
‘What is going on?’
‘Look, sorry about dragging you in here, but I don’t want anyone to overhear us talking about Podmore. I know why he didn’t show up today.’
‘Yes?’ She asked, not caring to hide her impatience.
‘He was arrested. Just yesterday, the papers haven’t reported it yet.’
Fleur eyed him warily. ‘How do you know this? And what is so important about an arrest to pull me into here?’
‘I-er,’ A look of panic flashed across his face again, but was gone just as fast. ‘I have sources. I know people in the ministry. And since it hasn’t been released to the public my sources could get in trouble if it got out early.’
‘And why does the ministry want to keep it not known?’
‘Well, that has to do with why he was arrested. But I definitely can’t tell you that.’
Fleur mulled this over for a moment, then had a thought. ‘Does this have something to do with, uh, what do you call him? He-who-must-not-be-named?’
Now it was Bill’s turn to look wary. ‘You believe he’s back then?’
‘Of course. I know Harry Potter, he does not lie.’
‘Indeed,’ Bill agreed, assessing her from where he had sat down at his desk.
‘Ah, of course. I forget, your little brother is his friend, yes?’
‘Yes.’ He replied. He paused for a moment then said, ‘I don’t know if it has anything to do with Voldemort, but it’d be best not to spread it around either way.’
‘Of course.’ Really, did he think her a silly school girl that could not keep a secret? She was in the Order of the Phoenix, half her life was secret! He didn’t know that of course, but really .
But if he had some knowledge of secret Ministry arrests, perhaps he was in the Order too? From the little she knew of the Order’s inner circle, it seemed almost all of the Weasleys were involved. She almost wanted to ask him, but no.
That could compromise the whole organisation if she was mistaken. She knew there was an older Weasley boy that was on the Ministry’s side – and though she was sure he worked for the Ministry, not a bank – she could not be too careful.
She noticed Bill was surveying her in much the same way she was him, and she wondered if he was thinking the same thing. No matter, she would find out soon enough when she attended her first meeting later that month.
Bill coughed, and they both wordlessly decided to change the subject.
‘I suppose you’ll need to look for another English tutor now. Doesn’t seem like the Ministry will be giving Podmore up anytime soon.’
‘Yes, I am not looking forward to this.’ Fleur felt the annoyance creeping back. ‘It was very hard to find him, and I do not know anyone else that speaks English and French, and is wanting to teach.’
‘I can speak French,’ Bill said, in an offhand way.
‘You can?’ She asked, astonished. In all their weeks of friendly chatting, he had never once mentioned that he was able to speak her native language.
‘Um, well, I’m not completely fluent, so I didn’t want to bring it up. I can get by though.’ Fleur noticed that he seemed embarrassed, though she could not imagine why.
‘That is no matter, you can still teach me, surely?’ She tried to ignore the excitement that blossomed in her stomach at this thought. She hoped her giddiness wasn’t audible in her voice.
‘Uh, well, I’m very busy.’
‘Oh’ The excitement turned to ice inside her. Of course he couldn’t, he was a cursebreaker, and obviously had many other things occupying his time.
‘But, uh, maybe once a week? You did lessons in your lunch break with Podmore, right? I could probably make time then.’
‘I would not want to steal away your break from you-’ Fleur felt more and more embarrassed each second, how desperate must she seem?
‘No really, I can-’
‘But I would not want to impose-’
‘Fleur, I would love to spend my lunch breaks teaching you english.’ Bill said firmly, and the word love was enough to shut her up. However embarrassed she was about her moment of desperation, she could not stop the tingling in her stomach that word had ignited.
How pathetic. She really must get a grip.
But when she opened her mouth, all that came out was, ‘Okay.’
Then, realising this sounded rather ungrateful, she added, ‘I appreciate it very much, I promise I will work hard and I will not waste your time.’
‘It’s all good.’ He was wearing that easy smile again. Oh, how challenging these lessons would be if he was going to keep doing that. ‘Maybe you could help me improve my French, too.’
‘I would be delighted.’ And then, because she couldn’t help it, she gave him one of her dazzling smiles as she got up to leave.
And she definitely did not feel a twinge of disappointment when it had no discernible effect on him.
Definitely not.
~~~
Exactly a week later, Fleur was standing in front of her bathroom mirror, readying herself for the workday and, more importantly, lunch with Bill Weasley.
That was actually not lunch, but an English lesson.
Which was why she definitely had not put any extra effort into her appearance that morning. The fact that her hair was curled and styled to perfection was pure coincidence. As was the fact that she was wearing her best silk work robes.
And she was certainly, not at all, treating this as a date.
Because it wasn’t. It was an English lesson that she had bullied him into giving her, and she really must pull herself together.
She arrived at Gringotts earlier than usual, so that she could finish inspecting a collection of diamonds from Burkina Faso before lunch (and definitely not so she could watch Bill Weasley as he came in).
Despite the fascinating properties of the diamonds, which disintegrated human flesh when touched, Fleur felt the day dragging. Every few minutes she looked up at the clock, hoping to see that it was nearly lunch time, only to be disappointed.
What was worse, she finished her work with the diamonds in good time and found herself with nothing to do, and still an hour to go before lunch.
She did not want to ask the goblins for more work, out of fear that they would have her work through her lunch break. Instead, she used the hour to write a letter to Gabrielle, who she had heard precious little from since moving. This was because Gabrielle was only nine, and so knew very little about letter writing, but she knew her sister would be thrilled to hear from her all the same.
Since she had a full hour she wrote a very long letter, in which she detailed all the pitfalls of life in England, and how much she missed France. She assured her that she would be home for Christmas, and that she could not wait to see her again. She told her of her supervisor, Aldok, and how he always wore silly red shoes and a bow tie. She even mentioned that she was working with the brother of Harry Potter’s friend, who had pulled her out of the lake; but neglected to mention that he was dreadfully handsome.
Gabrielle was, after all, only nine. She would think that sort of thing ‘yucky’.
By the time she finished it was ten minutes to lunch, so she went down to the postal area to put the letter in the outgoing mail pile, then checked her watch. Five minutes to lunch.
She thought about waiting by his door, then realised how desperate that would look. In the end she went back to her office and watched the clock until it struck twelve, and she heard a knock at the door.
‘I am coming, Bill!’ She threw on her coat, fixed her hair, and did a final check in the mirror. Then she scolded herself, because this was not a date.
They had a very pleasant walk to the cafe. Bill offered to hold her coat, opened the door for her, and even pulled out her seat. He acted the perfect gentleman, but infuriatingly professional. Even her perfectly curated appearance seemed to have no effect.
‘Since your grasp of sentence structure is already pretty good I thought we’d do some vocabulary stuff today,’ Bill began. Fleur noted that he sounded a little unsure, but then, he had probably never been a teacher before.
‘I’ve, uh, put together a list of some more advanced words.’ Bill continued, handing her a scroll. ‘And I was thinking you could talk to me and try to incorporate the words on the list, and then I could tell you if you’re using them right?’ He said the last part like a question, as though hoping for her assurance.
‘That is most wonderful. And I must thank you again, for this.’
‘I told you, it’s no hassle.’ He smiled that way he always did, and she almost believed him.
Fleur looked down at the list. The first word was gratuitous.
‘Hmmm, can I say I am gratuitous to you for giving me these lessons?’
To her surprise, Bill laughed, then quickly stifled it.
‘Well I hope not, since that means something that is not necessary, or not appropriate.’ He added a wink at the end - which was presumably to make her feel better about her mistake, but instead made her insides buzz with nerves.
‘Ah- I am very sorry. I will try again. How about “the violence of the Triwizard Tournament was gratuitous”.’
‘Much better,’ Bill smiled. To her great disappointment, he did not wink again.
By the time the end of the lesson was nearing Fleur had made significant progress. She had learned twelve new words, could spell most of them, and she now knew a great deal more about Bill.
She could now add to her collection of information (which was not at all creepy) that Bill had five brothers and a sister, had worked in Egypt for four years, and had discovered a love for curse-breaking by finding secret passages and alcoves at Hogwarts.
‘Since father’s day was yesterday, I got my father a fragrant cologne.’ Fleur said, confidently, and when Bill smiled again she added, ‘And what did you get your father?’
‘Me? I got him a fax machine.’
Ah, so not the estranged Weasley, then. Fleur just nodded politely in response, though she did not have the slightest idea what a fax machine was.
Then, before Bill could say anything else, they were interrupted by the appearance of a young man at their table. He stared at her, looking dazed, for a few seconds before saying:
‘I’ve been scouted to play quidditch for England, you know.’
Fleur did not dignify that with a response, instead choosing to stare fixedly out the window. This had very little effect, and he continued to stand and stare.
‘Um, can you leave us alone please?’ Bill asked, looking between Fleur and the boy in confusion. The boy appeared not to have heard him.
‘Excuse me.’ He said, louder this time, and snapped his finger in the boy’s face. He seemed to come to – and, with a fleeting, horrified look at Fleur – he turned and ran out the door.
‘What the hell was that about?’ Bill asked, disturbed.
‘Pay no attention, it happens all of the time,’ When he continued to look confused she added, ‘A – how do you say it – a disadvantage of my genetics.’
‘I’m not sure I know what you mean.’
‘You do not? But I am part Veela, I thought you knew this.’
‘I suspected,’ he said, hesitantly. ‘But I didn’t know for sure.’
‘Well, I must say, it is a nice change to speak to a man who is not interested in romance with me. It is so tiring to speak to men that only look and do not listen.’ This was only partially true. Of course, it was nice to speak to someone that did not get distracted by her body; but it was a shame the only man she wanted to look at her did not.
‘What makes you think I’m not interested?’ He looked as though the words had slipped out before he had time to think about him. He blushed a little, his ears and neck turning red, but did not retract the question.
‘Are you?’ Fleur asked in response. Perhaps this was English humour that she did not understand? Surely he didn’t mean-
‘I- well, if I had the time- but I don’t-’
‘I see.’
‘I’m really sorry, it’s not that I don’t want to- there’s just a lot going on right now. It would be unfair to start something I can’t commit to.’ To his credit, he did look genuinely disappointed to turn her down.
‘It is ok, Bill.’ She smiled at him in a way she hoped was reassuring. ‘I will not take it personally. I also have many things to do, so I think we are both too busy for dating.’
‘Yeah,’ he agreed, but he looked a bit sadder than before. Which was ridiculous really, since he had turned her down. ‘Should we get back then?’
‘Ah, yes, of course. I am sorry for keeping you.’ Fleur said, looking at her watch, which read five minutes to the end of lunch.
‘No, no. No trouble. Here, I’ll hold your coat.’ Bill opened the door for her, and as she stepped out she couldn’t help but notice that the back of his neck was still flushed very red.