Fleur would have been happy to have Luna as a house guest if not for the reason for her visit. Fleur vaguely remembered the girl's father, as they had only met once, at her wedding. She had found him an intriguing man, but there had been far too much going on to make any sort of lasting impression.
Since Luna's arrival, Fleur had allowed the girl as much space as she wished. As much as she wanted to hold the younger woman and tell her it would be all right, Fleur feared smothering her. So she stepped back, taking care of all of Luna's needs and being present and available whenever she was needed.
As the evening fell, closet to the time Bill was expected home, Fleur slipped into the kitchen to start dinner - a fish stew made from her own vegetables and fish caught nearby. She hummed a tune to herself as she worked, something she had sang to her little sister when she was sad. The tune stopped at Luna's voice and Fleur looked over her shoulder with a smile. "It's no trouble, my dear," she said, brushing her hands on her apron, "you could cut carrots, if you like, or you could just keep me company."