Chapter 5 : Fleur's Secret
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I am sorry to to say that my letter today brings nothing but bad news.
This morning, Hermione and Ron had a row. He hit her. I’ve always known he has and unstable temper, but I never thought he’d actually put her in danger. He loves her so much. I can tell it bothers her.
On another note, I am too far into my pregnancy to appearate and tell you this news in person. They finished their tests. The baby is in fact yours. I have no intention of leaving Bill. You and him look enough alike for me to get away with it. I know you are not a fan of kids, judging by Titus, so I hope you don’t mind my decision.
It might be insensitive of me to ask, but I’d like you to be at the birth. I know it’s a ways away, but all the precautions make it feel so close!
Bill is so excited for this baby. We’ve been trying for so long. It breaks my heart. I love him dearly, but it’s not the same way I love you. So I have decided that this affair has to come to an end. I am going to try to rekindle the passion I once shared with my husband, and I suggest that you attempt to do the same with your wife.
Her morning with Hermione left her absolutely devastated. She had betrayed her new friend before they had even grown close. How could I be cheating on my husband? When did my morals leave me?
She folded the letter and kissed the name scrawled across the ivory front. With a blue satin ribbon, she tied it to the leg of the distance owl her parents had given her and Bill as a wedding gift.
She heard the door open as she closed the kitchen window. Bill walked in and kissed her lightly on the cheek. “What was that?” he asked, hanging up his cloak.
“Jus’ a letter zu my parents,” she sighed, clearing up her stationary from the table, “ I asked Mama zu come vor a vew days nex’ veek. Is dat alright wiz vou?”
“It sounds lovely My Dear,” Bill smiled and strode over to the cabinets and began to pull things out for dinner.
“Darling, you zon’t ‘ave to do zat. I can manage.”
“It’s okay, Love. I want to. Go ahead and rest.” Bill was too kind, which broke her heart even more.
Fleur sat at the table, wallowing in her vast valley of guilt, sipping her cold tea. Bill had made a habit of glancing admiringly at Fleur periodically as he worked. She was beginning to feel self conscious and slightly suspicious. Bill quickly began to notice her skeptical expression.
“Ron and Luna will be joining us tonight for dinner,” he admitted.
Fleur stared at him surprised. After the incident that morning, she had completely forgotten that Ron had Luna. It was strange how he had dove into another relationship when he had never really gotten over the bushy haired girl. According to Bill, Ron had loved Hermione since he first met her when he was eleven. How did somebody get over something like that. It was now apparent to Fleur what had happened inside Ron’s heart to cause him to snap in such an insane manner.
At dinner, Ron showed no resemblance to the broken man Fleur had witnessed earlier that day. Although he seemed relatively normal, he refused to make eye contact with Fleur, which was not entirely abnormal. Hermione had once told her that he was too afraid of looking into her eyes for fear of rambling on like a naive fourth year.
Luna, however, was not in good spirits. It was rare that anyone ever caught her angry. Being the eccentric Luna, anger was a rather unusual sight in such mystic eyes. She appeared to be more confused than angry, but when she spoke, she had the tongue of a half sedated Horntail. If Ron were to simply brush her arm, she would snap back at him in a not entirely lucid manner, but her words could sting even the spitfire attitude of the Weasley’s garden gnomes.
Bill seemed not to notice all the tension in the room, and if he did, he did a damn good job masking it. He was always one to push past awkwardness and make everyone comfortable. This quality was a huge reason Fleur had fallen in love with him. When she was just starting to work at Gringott’s and knew very little English, Bill stood out in a crowd of men. He was the only one that didn’t bend over backwards in foolish attempts to woo her. He was the only one who made an effort to make her actually feel at home and comfortable in her new lifestyle. He helped her with her English and never showed any unprofessional sign of admiration, until Fleur herself had fallen in love with the red haired man. Her love was passionate and true.
In the beginning, she was so awestruck and could never have imagined herself into the situation she was now wading through. She dropped her fork into her potatoes and stood up from the table. “Excuse me.” She managed to calmly, but shakily stroll out of the kitchen before sprinting up the stairs. Once within the confines of her bedroom, she flung herself onto the bed she shared with her husband and began to wail, without consideration of casting a simple Mufliato in the direction of the door.
It would’ve been impossible to hear Bill’s footsteps on the stairs over her sobs, but she knew he was coming and wasn’t at all surprised when the door flew open and his powerful arms were wrapped around her petite frame. He didn’t ask her what was wrong or even speak a word. He just lied with her shaking in his arms. She sobbed into his chest. She was completely encased in the hold of a man who could crush her in seconds with his mere physical strength. A man she could crush in seconds with the truth.
She woke up the next morning sore and aching. As she turned over to look at Bill, her back cracked loudly in a series, awaking him. His eyes fluttered open, his amber eyelashes glistening in the fresh, golden sunlight. The refracting light beams danced across her face, in celebration with the silvery glow of her skin. Bill would have been able to lay there and stare into her beautiful face all day if she’d have let him.
But now, she couldn’t look into his eyes without feeling ashamed. Here she lay, in his bed, in his home, with his ring on her finger and his brother’s child in her womb. The largest form of betrayal possible. She didn’t have the heart to break his by telling the truth. She’d just have to learn to live with her mistake.
Fleur slid out from under Bill’s hand and off the bed. She could no longer cry. Her eyes were dry from the previous night. She stopped half way across the room and let her silk dress fall to the floor. With it on, it was almost impossible to tell that she was with child, but as she stepped out of it, her slightly protruding baby bump was clearly visible.
Behind her Bill gasped, climbing out of bed. Within seconds she could feel his warm hands against her icy skin. Now is was her turn to let out a gasp as he gently kissed her neck. The spot where his lips met her skin burned and hairs raised on the back of her neck. He traced lines of fire up the small of her back to the nape of her neck. Kissing the the burning skin, his fingers ventured over her shoulder and found their way to her naked breast. She threw her head back in absolute desire. Her silvery blonde hair tickled his bare chest, driving his internal fire.
He pulled her off her feet and turned her around in one swift motion. There they stood, in the middle of the room, as far away from the bed as they were from the door, pressed together, chest to chest, his hands on her back, her calves on his, glowing in each others presence. She wiggled her tiny little feet to rest against his hips. She slipped her big toe into the waistband of his shorts and slid then dowm his leg, leaving them lying on the floor next to her dress. It had been long since she had shared such passion with her husband.
He ran his left hand down her torso and hooked it on the inside of her right knee. With his right arm supporting her back and hand cradling her head, he carried her over to the bed and gently laid her down on its edge. He forced her knees apart and began to caress the inside of her thighs with the smooth pink of his lips. He worked his way up the her hips, lingering directly below. Tears fell from her eyes as he passionately kissed her navel. He trailed up between her breasts, his hands finding home there, up to her collar bone, his mouth never leaving her now burning skin. His tongue traced patterns along her collar bone, up her neck, across her jaw, and found its way to the soft spot behind her ear. He ran his fingers through her hair throwing it out of the way.
She let out a pleased moan as she welcomed the pain between her legs. She pressed her hips aggressively against his as he fell into a familiar rhythm. Her back arched in delight and she tangled her fingers in his hair and pulled his head back. He stared at her, hunger in his eyes. She threw her head back and closed her eyes. Her knuckles turned white against his shoulders as he pulled forward.
He lifted her up and laid her head back down on a pillow on the other end so they could both be on the bed. She placed her petite hand over his heart, his muscles rippling under her palm. He kissed her forehead and stared lovingly into her grey eyes, “It beats for you.”
She woke up later that afternoon, wrapped in the arms of her husband. She felt renewed, as she did at the birth of her marriage. She lay there silently and gently stroked Bill’s shining red hair, bathing in the beauty of the moment. There was a sharp tap on the window. Fleur got up out of bed without bothering to get dressed. She flung the lace drapes open to reveal an over-sized owl that was all too familiar.
Her heart began to pound straight out of her chest. She silently opened the window and snatched the letter from the owl. She sprinted to the bathroom and locked the door behind her. She pushed her back against the door and slid down, her bum resting on the cold stone floor.
The unread letter lied at her feet. All she needed was to read the signature for her to realise the reality that would be impossible to escape.
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