WHO: Katie Bell & Fleur Delacour WHAT: Fleur bringing Katie some food! WHEN: Backdated to after the night of creepy werewolves WHERE: The Bell home, Scotland WARNINGS: None!
Despite it being eleven in the morning, Fleur had already decided it’d been a long day when she apparated onto Katie’s street. Maybe this was the result of staying awake all night, waiting for any and every update from Molly and Arthur on their werewolf situation. Most of the tension left her body as the sun rose and the wolves began to disperse back to whatever gutters they came from and only exhaustion remained.
Brunch with the Weasleys had been a formality; it was an opportunity to give Molly and Arthur a once-over, ensuring they were, in all actuality, still whole. Fleur was quiet throughout, trying desperately not to fall asleep in her eggs; it was a hard gamble of whether to sleep through her breakfast or consume the fried British nonsense in front of her. But if she slept through the day, it was unlikely she would sleep that night.
So instead of going home, she was here. She knocked lightly on the door, reminding herself she should have sent Katie a hext before showing up out of the blue. Fleur leaned heavily on the side railing, eyes closing as she waited for a response. Her knit scarf was draped around her and acted as a pillow as her neck leaned forward. If one were to see her now, they would see the exhausted and tame glow of a part-veela.
It was quiet on the island, that damp kind of cold where Katie just wanted to lounge around at home rather than head outside for a walk. Her parents out, she'd been cosied up by the fire when she heard the door. She padded towards the front door, ponytail bobbing as she walked, unsure if the house’s wards were still working after the troubles they'd been experiencing.
But upon seeing who was at the door Katie forgot all of those concerns. She grinned as she saw Fleur, unexpected but welcome nonetheless.
“Alright?” Katie asked brightly, holding the door open for her.
“Oui,” Fleur yawned, thrusting a basket of leftovers towards the other girl. Her stomach turned thinking more about the fried British food often involved in her life. “Thought I would bring zis to you. Better you zan ze garden gnomes,” she sniffed. Ugly bastards.
She hung up her coat and leaned forward to unzip her boots as if she were a regular in this home. In all reality, she was not. But she had Bill’s family and Bill’s friends, and it was important to find and strengthen her own relationships. “Werewolves everywhere,” she complained. “Did you ‘ave any?”
Katie took the basket with a curious look, wondering what was better suited to her than gnomes. Peering inside and seeing it contained only food she smiled again and uttered a quick “thanks.” She started to move towards the kitchen, assuming that Fleur would follow.
“No werewolves up here, but I suppose it's a bit remote,” Katie answered her question. “Can I get you some tea?” Katie offered her, walking through and placing the basket on a worktop. She wasn't very good at hosting, but she'd certainly try her best. “You look tired.”
It did not matter whether Katie was a good host, as Fleur was certainly not a great guest. “Do you ‘ave espresso?” she inquired hopefully, the urgent need for caffeine taking over the conversation.
Katie couldn't resist chuckling softly, of course Fleur was more of a coffee person than a tea one. “Got a fancy Muggle machine,” she told Fleur, omitting the fact that she might not know exactly how to use it. “Are you alright?”
Relief was evident in Fleur’s expression. Could one take espresso intravenously? “Mm, yes, I am very alright. Everyone zat I know is alive and not a werewolf.” She paused to consider her statement. “To my knowledge. Except for Remus, of course, but zere is nothing we can do about zat,” she added casually.
Without waiting for Katie to offer her a chair, Fleur found herself seated. She watched Katie’s every moment expectantly as she was one step closer to feeling a smidgeon alive. “But ze fact zat last night occurred at all is worrisome to me. Was zis a plan? If so, why were each party targeted? Molly and Arthur are understandeeble…”
Katie, concentrating on the coffee machine, didn’t answer straight away. Once it was making noises that sounded like water heating she turned her attention back to Fleur and her troubles. “I can’t say I know much about werewolves,” she started, hesitant, “But maybe it’s been building up.” A brief shudder. Fenrir Greyback was in charge of them still, apparently, and that gave her little comfort. “I’m glad you’re all okay though.”
“I ‘ardly theenk zat Violet Slughorn ‘built up’ anytheeng,” Fleur scoffed. Her foot tapped in agitation — not towards Katie, but towards the previous night’s chaos and the resulting circles beneath her eyes.
Fleur’s nostrils flared as she inspected what the girl was doing from her seat. “Are you certain you are doing zat correctly?” She was aware of her condescending tone but was too tired to change it or apologize.
Katie hesitated, taken aback by the sudden question that followed the rant. Put on the spot for an answer, she gave an indignant “Yes” before smacking the side of the coffee machine with the palm of her hand. It seemed to work, and coffee finally began pouring into the small mug she’d placed beside it.
Fleur narrowed her eyes as Katie physically assaulted the coffee machine, disbelief evident when the espresso began to flow into the mug.
“So it’s random then. Say someone pissed them off.”
“Zey are always upset! What happened zis time? Someone deed not allow zem to order a raw hamburger?”
Katie gave a snort of laughter, watching the coffee flow until it was done. She passed the cup over to Fleur and sat beside her. “People just don’t appreciate uncooked meat.”
Fleur sniffed at the mug she was handed before putting it down on the table to cool. She didn’t mean to be condescending, it was just a habit.
She began with a snap. “People don’t appreciate many things!” Fleur wrapped her hands around the mug for warmth. “Good friends are probably one of zem,” she finished with a coy smile at Katie.