October 15, 2019, 02:48:47 PM

Author Topic:  the secret ingredient is always love [Weasleys]  (Read 225 times)

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Fleur Weasley [ Order of The Phoenix ]
22 Posts  •  25  •  Heterosexual  •  played by Ann
the secret ingredient is always love [Weasleys]
« on: April 28, 2019, 07:28:23 PM »
It was Sunday. Again. Fleur sometimes wondered where the days went. It certainly didn’t seem like it had been a week since she had last been here, picking at Molly’s steak and kidney pie. Fleur had lived in England for her entire adult life and still found it difficult to swallow down the dense food that her in-laws loved so much. The meat was so chewy and the pastry like a slab of stone. It certainly felt like a brick in her stomach after she had finished as much as she could handle. She loved the Weasleys, and all their quirks, but the fact that they still preferred pig slop to decent cuisine mystified her. And that was after Fleur had generously and continuously tried to refine their palates into recognising their mistakes. As long as Victoire didn’t follow in their footsteps…

Despite being absent of the seven children raised there, the Burrow still managed to maintain an atmosphere of bustle and chaos that never made Fleur feel completely comfortable. A home should be a place to relax as well, and there was nothing relaxing about precariously balanced piles of old magazines and random trinkets. But unlike years ago when she had been confined there, going stir crazy, Fleur was now able to come and go as she pleased, something that definitely helped her relationship with her mother-in-law. Space. And Molly was currently in her own home, at Shell Cottage, doting on her beloved granddaughter and spending time with her eldest son.

Every so often the Weasley family tried to give Molly the night off from cooking and let someone else take the reins. But, she had to be persuaded away, hence the bribe of uninterrupted time with Fleur’s daughter and husband. So Molly and Fleur had swapped places, despite some protests that Fleur should not be on her feet as much as she was. The part-veela had brushed those aside flippantly. She knew perfectly well what she could and could not do, thank you very much. She really did not appreciate the unnecessary advice, even as she ignored the constant ache at the base of her back.

Fleur had already lit the oven when she had arrived and the kitchen had now begun to heat up into a more tolerable temperature. It was always so cold in England. She jabbed her wand in the direction of the counter, where a collection of old Prophets had been discarded, watching in satisfaction as they lifted themselves and floated through the air towards the fireplace, setting down in the grate. There. Now they were ready for burning. Molly must have forgotten to have moved them. Lucky she had Fleur there to help, even though Fleur knew that her help would no doubt not be appreciated. The older Mrs Weasley got so controlling over chores at times.

Fleur eyed the bottle of wine that she had brought with her enviously. What she would do for one glass. Wine was not as normal in England as it was in France, and following a blazing row with Bill when she was pregnant with Victoire, Fleur had agreed, for his sake and his alone, that she would not have any alcohol while pregnant. Even a small glass of wine that would cause absolutely no damage whatsoever. But he was just protective and trying to be a good father. And she loved him for it. So she instead stuck with her glass of gillywater, knowing that the superiority of this label of wine would be lost on her uncultured in-laws.

A whir from the other room caught her attention, and Fleur made her way over to stare at the Weasley clock, watching Ginny’s hand flick from ‘travelling’ to ‘home’. No doubt the family had called in reinforcements, deciding that Fleur needed help to make a simple dinner. Honestly! Molly had managed six pregnancies plus children and a home, Fleur was a little offended that they considered her unable to handle this. Waddling back to the kitchen, she pointed her wand with more force than necessary at a knife, directly it to start chopping carrots. It set to work vigorously, chopping perfect slices - Fleur wouldn’t settle for anything less - but also taking chunks out the chopping board in frustration. With another flick the knife calmed down. It would not do to actually prove Molly right. Fleur would fix the chopping board once she was finished.

The door creaked behind her, and Fleur turned around, her hair flicking across her shoulder as she did so. Her suspicions were correct. It was her sister-in-law. “Bonsoir Ginny,” she said politely as the other witch made her way inside. “How is it going?” Directing her attention back to the dinner preparations, Fleur made the carrot slices soar into the awaiting pan, the flame flicking on underneath.

“Would you like a glass of the wine?” She asked, pointing at the unopened bottle. “It is from Provence.” A lovely variety, her maman had sent it over just last week. “I have had no glasses. Bill worries très much!” Fleur continued without stopping, assuming that Ginny had been sent to act as spy. Her accent a little thicker than normal, frustrated at being checked up on and being unable to have a glass of wine. “He is darling but I am bonne and le bébé is also!” Fleur patted her expanded stomach, as if assuring it’s precious contents were perfectly safe.

Fleur smiled widely, her whole face lighting up. “You must drink for me, oui? A meal without wine is like a day without the sun.” Quoting the famous French gastronomer, Fleur pointed her wand at the cabinet where the glasses were without waiting for Ginny’s response and summoning a solitary wine glass. “There is too much grey days in England already.” Magicking the cork off the bottle, the wine poured itself into the waiting glass then drifted over to Fleur where she held it out for Ginny to collect. “I will drink the gillywater, pah!” Fleur’s expression displayed how unsatisfied she was by the greenish liquid. She was French, wine was in her blood.

@Ginny Weasley

Ginny Weasley [ Order of The Phoenix ]
21 Posts  •  21  •  Heterosexual  •  played by Olivia
Re: the secret ingredient is always love [Weasleys]
« Reply #1 on: June 28, 2019, 05:34:22 AM »
As much as she truly loved living with Harry at Grimmauld Place, it was always nice to be back at The Burrow – even if it was more frequently than she’d initially anticipated. When she’d lived full-time with her parents, Ginny constantly found herself daydreaming about moving out and living on her own; now, she looked forward to the weekly Sunday dinners spent in cozy familiarity.

Today would mark a rare break in tradition: someone other than Mum would be cooking; today, that someone was Fleur.
According to Bill, Mum had required considerable cajoling before she was finally persuaded to turn over her domain for the evening – and also that the blonde would not, in fact, suffer any ill effects from preparing dinner. Bribery of uninterrupted time with Victoire and Bill had placated her, but to truly seal the deal Ginny had offered to head over to the house early and “help”.

The twenty-one-year-old had barely set foot in the tiny kitchen before her sister-in-law greeted her, already invested in the preparations over by the sink.
“Hiya,” Ginny replied, flashing a quick smile at the older woman’s back.

“How is it going?”

“Fine, thanks. You?” she rejoined, dropping into one of the chairs at the kitchen table, resting her elbows on it and her chin on top of her interlaced fingers.

Admittedly, Fleur had grown on her over the past few years. They likely wouldn’t ever be bosom-buddies, but they were on much better terms nowadays, in any case. Fleur was made of tougher stuff than Ginny had originally given her credit. And while the redhead did still roll her eyes behind the silvery-blonde’s back when Fleur was on one of her more critical rampages, more often than not the twinge of annoyance Ginny felt was only fleeting. Was this what growing up felt like…?

“I heard through the grapevine that you most assuredly did not want any help tonight,” she began, raising an eyebrow in case Fleur began to chastise her. She flashed a ridiculously wide grin. “So, here I am – not helping.”

She opened her mouth to accept the wine offering, but before she could get so much as a sound out Fleur was off to the races, chattering away without seeming to pause for breath such that Ginny only had time to smile and nod. In another instant the wine had been poured and held out to her. Ginny stood, her chair gently scraping the stone floor as she did so, and reached across the table to take the glass.

“I will drink the gillywater, pah!”

Grinning, Ginny raised her glass in a silent toast and took a sip. She really didn’t know her wines, even with a French sister-in-law, but she knew enough to tell it was good-quality – not that she would have expected anything less from Fleur, anyway. The redhead’s gaze flicked to the swell of Fleur’s stomach, and she raised her glass a second time to the growing baby.

“Not still puking your guts out?” she asked the silvery-blonde baldly, with another flash of a wicked grin. “If so, I’m sure Fr— I’m sure there are still restorative ends of Puking Pastilles lying about somewhere upstairs, if you need.”
It was still difficult for Ginny to kick the habit of automatically saying ‘Fred and ‘George’ whenever she was referring to anything the twins had done together – which was, consequently, essentially everything until just over four years ago. It felt like an age and an instant all at once.
« Last Edit: June 28, 2019, 05:41:55 AM by Olivia »
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backseat serenade, dizzy hurricane
oh, god, I’m sick of sleeping alone
you’re salty like a summer day, kiss the sweat away, to your radio

Fleur Weasley [ Order of The Phoenix ]
22 Posts  •  25  •  Heterosexual  •  played by Ann
Re: the secret ingredient is always love [Weasleys]
« Reply #2 on: July 11, 2019, 04:26:47 PM »
Fleur had to grin along with Ginny as she ‘helped’ by taking a seat. Her sister-in-law had a wicked sense of humour when she wasn’t using it to call Fleur nicknames like Phlegm. Honestly, it wasn’t even clever. But Ginny had been a teenager in the middle of the war back then, and Bill’s beloved little sister, so some things had to be forgiven. And she did appreciate that Ginny was not treating her any differently just because she was carrying a little extra weight.

She turned back to the counter as Ginny took a sip, directing the peeled potatoes into the boiling water with a flick of her wand. After they were part boiled then she would slice them thinly and put them in the oven to finish cooking. Fleur was glad she was turned away from Ginny when the younger witch slipped up. Sympathy was not often appreciated and the best thing to do was to let it go without drawing attention to it. Her hormones struggled to agree though. Fleur had liked Fred. She enjoyed the devilish humour and jokes that the twins carried out together and she had mourned his death along with the family, despite having not known him for long.

Oh merde, the tears. This was definitely the downside to pregnancy. Fleur kept her back to Ginny, knowing she was being ridiculous. It was stupid to cry but he had just been such a good person. Too many good people had died and poor Teddy had been left without parents. What if Victoire was left without parents? Fleur didn’t want her daughter to be an orphan. Oh Merlin, she didn’t want her daughter growing up in the Burrow! Surrounded by chickens and, oh merde, Celestina Warbeck’s singing. Victoire couldn’t grow up here. Her precious daughter just couldn’t.

And why was she ugly crying? She was already fat, she didn’t need to have a puffy red face too. Fleur was only meant to be making dinner, not having an emotional breakdown. Sure, Bill and her had discussed what would happen to Victoire and future children if anything happened to them, but maybe she hadn’t emphasised the importance of their upbringing enough. No child of hers was going to wear hand me downs.

“Puking Pastiles!” She eventually managed to reply with, her voice slightly choked with emotion. “They are so clever.” Fleur shook her head, one to try and stop the tears and two to flick her hair out her face. “George and Ron, they are très funny.” The reminder of some of hilarious products that Weasley Wizarding Wheezes had produced, and the reactions they had elicited from some of the Weasley family, was suddenly enough for a giggle to release from her mouth.

And then another.

And another.

Until Fleur was clasping her sides as she cried and laughed. Ginny probably thought she was insane. Fleur thought she was insane right now. Damn hormones.

“Non,” she replied once her breaths had evened. “Only for bad smells now, but I get heartburns. And…” she gestured helplessly at herself, “hormones.” Fleur would be glad when it was over. She would be glad to have her body back.

There was little to be done until the potatoes needed drained, so Fleur carefully settled herself into the chair next to Ginny. It was embarrassing that a simple chair could be such a struggle, especially next to the fit, thin, younger witch. “How is the quidditch? And Harry?”


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