"At least you are not a mean drunk," Fleur teased, poking him in the sides. It had been entirely too long since she had touched him.
Fleur nodded enthusiastically when Bill asked to see her photos. She broke into a smile, "Oui, I took zat one. Eet was zee Summer before I did zee TriWizard Tournament, so I took eet wiz me to 'ave a piece of 'ome. Eet does not do our 'ouse much justice. Eet ees really quite charming, I zink you would like eet."
Taking a moment to wash her hands in the sink, Fleur trotted over to where she had discarded her bag. Her trusty camera was in there, one of those old, vintage affairs that you could bash against a wall without breaking it, but there were also a few prints that she had put in her bag to enter into a photography contest that a photography magazine was running. "Before I moved 'ere, we visited my Uncle. 'E 'as a good job wiz zee Banque de Magicien de la France, so 'e 'as zis lovely 'ome near zis little vineyard een zee South. Our 'ouse ees small, but homely, but eet ees nice to visit 'im, eef only so I can take nice photos." Fleur handed over the stack and pointed out one in particular, where dark clouds rumbled overhead, but radiant blues peaked through so that the vineyard in the picture was washed in light and darkness. "Eet ees just a 'obby."
Leaning against the counter, she looked at Bill with a touch more confidence, "And you, Monsieur Weasley? What do you do for fun, besides cooking to impress women?"