With lots of des bisous for her little darling, Fleur had left Victoire in the watchful care of her Uncle Percy and left Shell Cottage. She was glad that her daughter had not made a fuss at her departure, but, really, she could be a
bit upset and not make Fleur feel like she was
completely replaceable. Was that too much to ask? Apparently so, as Victoire had grabbed Percys hand to tug him away to play dragons and goblins before she had put on her coat. Fleur could only assume that Percy would eventually end up as a crispy goblin having been burnt by the fierce dragon. Maybe she would have to start paying more attention to the bedtime stories Bill told their daughter
Fleur did not have much time to dwell on VictoireÔÇÖs antics though, as she required all her concentration to apparate to London. She was taking a portkey to Chatoeil in order to meet up with darling Gabrielle to have a pamper session. And she dearly needed one! Fleur had been unable to see her feet for months now - who knew what state they were in! Bill said they were as gorgeous as ever, but he was a
man, what did he know! And she knew her ankles were swollen, she could
feel them. Any help to make them look presentable would be very welcome. These pamper sessions were few and far in-between now that Fleur was a mother. She simply could not book an appointment on a whim anymore, she had to arrange childcare etc. Turning up to a salon with a boisterous toddler was not appreciated and she would not deign to enter an establishment where it was.
While the Delacour women usually had spa days together, Fleur decided to keep this trip quiet from her maman, wanting to speak to Gabrielle without the tensions rising between mother and daughter. She could understand where both her sister and her mother stood on the matter, but Fleur was pregnant. And tired. She was
not in the mood to play mediator. And play it unsuccessfully at that. Veela tempers meant that the women were all hopelessly stubborn, not the recipe for a peaceful afternoon.
With a vivid image in her mind of The Underground, the international portkey station underneath KingÔÇÖs Cross, Fleur put her focus into apparating. The sensation of squeezing was even more unpleasant when her internal organs were already compressed and rearranged thanks to the presence of an extra body. When she reappeared in London, Fleur staggered slightly to the side and took gasping breaths to fill her lungs back with air. Her hands grasped her belly as if reassuring herself it was still there. That was the problem with apparating when pregnant. There was an internal extra being to concentrate on. Any splinching could be disastrous. But centuries of women before her had managed - so could she.
Once she had regained her senses, Fleur walked briskly towards the portkey station to Chatoeil. Her walk more like a distinct waddle that was trying to rush lest she miss the time. It would not do to bail on Gabrielle because she had left later than intended because it had been important to ensure Percy would definitely have everything he needed to look after Victoire. She was perfectly justified to worry. There was no way to easily contact her if there was an emergency! Floo messaging and the speaking patronus charm did not work across the English channel. Fleur handed over a few sickles to the portkey attendant in exchange for entry to the correct platform.
ÔÇ£Outgoing Portkey to Chatoeil in one minute.ÔÇØThe only good thing about international portkeys is that they were spacious. There was no crowding around small objects with strangers, like what seemed to always happen for big events. And a few strangers were giving her side eyes that Fleur was an expert at ignoring. They were either just jealous of her carefully crafted look for the day, or judging her for taking a portkey while pregnant. Either way, they were distinctly unimportant. Grabbing her section of the length of rope, Fleur took a few deep breaths to prepare herself for the sensa-
With a uncontrollable jolt forwards, Fleur felt herself falling into a huge gust of wind. Colours rushing past her as they spun round and round. Her hand leading the rest of her body on the trip to mainland Europe. Within a few seconds things started coming back into focus and she concentrated hard on making sure she didnÔÇÖt topple the landing. It would not do to prove anyone right. Her feet made contact with the sun-kissed cobbles of Chatoeil and she stumbled but remained upright. Allowing the beautiful Mediterranean October sun to wash over her face, Fleur looked around with a smile.
Beautiful France. How she loved it.
She almost glided down the street, so happy to be back in her home country. The elegant language; the gorgeous architecture; the sun and blue sky. It was all so comforting. Spotting her little sister, not to so little anymore, waiting outside Venus Beaute, she picked up her pace slightly. It would simply
not be ladylike to shout to gain GabrielleÔÇÖs attention. Approaching the younger witch, Fleur broke out in a wide grin, her whole face seemingly glowing with delight. ÔÇ£Gabrielle!ÔÇØ She greeted, her arms outstretched to grab her sister into an embrace before withdrawing slightly to peck each cheek. ÔÇ£Tu es magnifique!ÔÇØ
And her sister certainly was. Radiating youthful beauty while Fleur heaved around a 30 week foetus and survived on only a couple of hours sleep a night. ÔÇ£How are you ma ch?¿rie?ÔÇØ She asked, still examining her sister for any changes in appearance. It felt like
ages since she had last seen her. Certainly it had been before Gabrielle returned to Beauxbatons for her last year. Was it possible she looked even more grown up?
http://www.magical-hogwarts.com/index.php?action=profile;u=20355' rel='nofollow noopener' target='_blank'>@Gabrielle Delacour
