Bill Weasley (billbelette) wrote in newsalem, @ 2011-10-11 22:19:00 |
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As soon as Bill saw Fleur's journal, he left his office and went straight to the Floo. His mind was reeling as he grabbed a fistful of Floo powder and flung it into the fireplace, stating his address clearly. He was surprised his voice didn't quaver, because his mind was filled with a plethora of situations that would lead Fleur to being incapable of using her journal, and needing Louis to communicate for her. If he had calmed down for a moment, he would have analysed the facts and come to the conclusion that it couldn't be too sinister, if Fleur was able to tell Louis what to draw. Emerging in the kitchen fireplace, Bill took two long strides towards his wife before he pulled up short, freezing in place. Luckily, he wasn't freezing because he had turned gold, but rather, because he had noticed the gold. Everywhere. On every surface. Even Fleur looked gold. Her clothes were weighed down, solid gold, and coupled with her ever present Veela glow, she looked almost like one of the statues that was in the Ministry fountain. Louis waddled over and hugged Bill's leg, as was his custom, and that was what snapped Bill out of it. Judging by Fleur's face, she was trying to make light of what had happened. With a grin that was not entirely unnatural, Bill scooped up his youngest and balanced him on his hip. "What has mummy gone and done, eh?" "Mummy made you some gold for work!" Louis supplied enthusiastically, and Bill had to laugh. Bill picked up what used to be an oven mit, and could tell with the merest of examinations that it was not real gold. He hadn't collected so much of it throughout his lifetime to not be able to tell the difference. It was no better than Leprechaun gold. "Louis, why don't you draw a nice picture for uncle George," He said, pointing to the message that George had just written in Fleur's journal. Relishing the forbidden delight of drawing in his mother's journal, Louis did not need to be told twice. "You all right, love?" He said to Fleur, squashing the familiar habit of giving her a kiss on the forehead and instead inclining his head sympathetically, "What happened?" |