"Think nothing of it," Gabrielle smiled, taking a moment to wonder if Ginny blushed like that during sex, before continuing, "It is merely Delacour hospitality."
It was indeed traditional for a guest of the manor to sleep in their host's bed -and also traditional for the guest to sleep with the host- as Fleur, Gabrielle, and their parents before them had often demonstrated. The only thing keeping Delacour hospitality from becoming legendary was a liberal use of Veela-thrall. After all, it simply would not do for the prey to know it was being stalked.
Gabrielle winked at Ginny's use of French. The older woman's accent was atrocious, but Gabrielle found it amusing that Ginny had tried. "Is it not sinful? Fleur spoils me," She replied to Ginny's comment on the bed.
In truth, Fleur only spoiled her younger sister because she felt guilty about not being able to see her more. Gabrielle's room was full of intricately charmed luxuries, and while the younger Delacour enjoyed it, she would much rather have seen Fleur more often. Gabrielle cut off that train of thought, it was much too depressing for the situation at hand.
Gabrielle slid into the bed next to Ginny, cursing mentally that she had not thought to make the bed a bit smaller, to force them closer together. Though her Veela hormones only worked on men, being in close proximity to Gabrielle had an effect on nearly anyone.
"Juicy?" The word had been one of the first pieces of English slang that Gabrielle, a lover of gossip, had picked up, and she grinned, contemplating the many stories she could tell. In the end, though, she chose none of them, instead murmuring, "From what I am told, you have many juicy stories of your own to tell. Do share."
Ginny chewing on her lip was cute and her giggling even more so. Of course, if Gabrielle had her way Ginny would be doing neither for very long, but she could certainly appreciate them for the moment.