Fleur Delacour. (flrd) wrote in disorderic, @ 2018-03-11 17:15:00 |
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Entry tags: | fleur delacour, violet slughorn |
WHO: Fleur Delacour & Violet Slughorn
WHAT: Fleur is homesick. Violet helps.
WHEN: September 5th 2014
WHERE: Diagon Alley
WARNINGS: None.
As much as Violet loved her family and enjoyed the luxuries that their wealth offered her, there was something exciting about the prospect of having her own flat, paid for with her own wages. She had an independent spirit, and she wanted to know that if she ever really had to, she could support herself. So here she was, with a list of flats to see in Diagon Alley. On her phone, she’d also prepared a list of things to watch out for in rental units and questions to ask the landlord. This was going to be brilliant. Rounding the corner, she caught sight of a girl whom she knew of, but hadn’t been formally introduced to yet - one of the tri-wizard champions from the tournament that tragically took Cedric Diggory’s life. In an effort to be polite, she introduced herself in French, pronunciation as crisp and proper as one might expect of someone fluent. “Fleur Delacour? Hello, my name is Violet Slughorn. I work in the Department of International Magical Cooperation, and I thought I’d stop by and say hello.” Fleur felt encompassed by the dreary, musty fog that was Diagon Alley. It was cramped and homely; she could not comprehend why this place was a hub of shopping and intrigue for London. She’d come here to go to school and improve her English. But at what cost? she often asked herself. It was due to this gloom that she startled at Violet’s appearance, her signature scowl taking form across the stretch of her face. But just as quickly as it appeared, it gave way to something resembling a smile. Her heart lifted at the sound of her native and beautiful tongue. Home was not so far away, though it often felt it. “Hello,” Fleur responded, warmer than she remembered being to a stranger recently, though the introduction felt random. “Have we met before?” The girl was familiar, though she could not place her. “Well...I think it’s more that we’ve seen one another briefly in passing before,” Violet replied. She recognized Fleur’s face. “Percy Weasley is a good friend of mine and I visit France every summer. I’m related to the d’Harcourt family through my mother.” The wealthy French pureblood family was best known for owning one of the largest wine distillery chains in France. “Oh,” Fleur smiled. “Do you indulge for free?” “I do,” Violet said with a little grin. “All for quality assurance purposes, of course. We take a personal interest in ensuring that our customers are getting the very best product available.” If that sounded both diplomatic and business-like, well. It was what Violet was dealing with all the time now that she was the assistant to the head of the International Trading Standards sub-department. It came naturally to her. “How are you settling in to England so far?” she inquired. She knew her mother had found it a little hard when she first moved here. Fleur pursed her lips with the subject change. “Fine. I like my school, I like my job,” she admitted, dryly. “Everything else, not so much.” She paused, considering how much she felt like sharing with this new girl. “It is so....bland.” “That’s one way to describe it,” Violet agreed. “Although there are some exceptions. The Indian restaurants, for one. I do know of a bakery in the area that makes a few French pastries passably well, too. There is also the fact that my family’s wine distillery chain has locations here. If nothing else, I can attest to the quality of the wine.” Fleur hadn’t talked to her peers at the London School of Economics or her colleagues at Gringotts. Instead, she stewed in her loneliness and homesickness, bitter that she was here and bitter that she was also wasting her opportunities while here. She could use a friend, probably. One who did not appear to be overtaken by her Veela glow. “Maybe you can show me one day.” Fleur meant it as a question, though her commanding tone showcased it as a strong suggestion. “If you would not mind,” she added. “The bakery is close by,” said Violet easily. She wasn’t put off by the commanding tone. Not when she could see the homesickness underneath. “The distillery chains are somewhat more out of the way.” She pulled out her phone. “I could hext you when I’m visiting next if you’d like to swap phone numbers? My family won’t mind. I’ve brought guests before.” Fleur nodded curtly. She hardly gave her number to vague friends, let alone absolute strangers, but it was important she felt more comfortable here. “That sounds nice,” she admitted to the other girl (and to herself). |