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Fleur Delacour Weasley

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OOM: A bit of closure [09 Sep 2006|08:51pm]
So many things had happened in such a short period of time.

When all hell broke loose on Bloody Sunday, Fleur's mother and little sister had been unable to contact anyone; for weeks, they hadn't even known anything had been any more wrong than before on the tiny Mediterranean island. (Fleur had said leave Paris; for once, her mother listened.) One of the local shop boys had mentioned in passing that something funny was happening "up North," and off the two had gone to visit with Fleur before sending little Gabrielle off to school.

(Her mother just thought Fleur passed out from the shock of being called fat. How was she to know she was dead for two months? It was summer! They were on holiday! There were drinks! Pool boys! No bathing suits required, no tan lines, comprendez-vous?)

The surprise over finding her mother and sister alive sent Fleur into an early and unexpected labour; fortunately Bill had at least set up the cribs in the nursery. After a long and seemingly endless night (where Bill really only felt like passing out the two times, at least by his count), they proudly welcomed Rose and Charlie Weasley into the world. The twins were beautiful: Rose had the softer female Weasley look about her and Charlie... well, he inherited his mother's slender pale build and exquisitely sculpted features. That much was clear from the start.

After much consideration, rejoicing, and reunion, Bill and Fleur made the decision to leave London. The memories of his brothers' deaths were too fresh; he couldn't be near Diagon Alley and he couldn't go to Milliways without remembering them. What was best was for him to lose himself in his work and that, of course, meant Egypt. Once the twins were old enough to travel -- about a month old, in fact -- the family moved back to Luxor. They'd always wanted to be an international family -- experienced citizens of the world -- and this was the perfect opportunity. Fleur, of course, was an instant celebrity there with her silvery hair and brash defiance of local clothing (or much of any clothing, in fact).

For Bill, this meant curse-breaking by day and parenting by night. He'd never been so happy as he was these days, with his wife and children there. And Fleur... well, she looked simply radiant. If Egypt didn't suit her, she rarely complained. From time to time she disappeared for an hour or an afternoon -- mostly with the children in tow -- but Bill understood. She'd always been like that and as far as he was concerned, a happy Fleur meant a happy family. Their family would never be what was considered strictly normal, but he'd never cared about that. So long as they were content (and they were), he didn't give a hang what anyone else thought.


Fleur was never very good at sticking to one place or one thing for very long. The exception to the rule had been Bill. And then she had popped out two perfect little bundles of weeping joy, and she discovered... she had more than one exception. It was a shock. And she and Bill fought, sometimes, in ways they never had before. They had two tiny little people to look out for, now. He didn't understand some of the things she did, and she didn't understand why he wanted to teach them certain ideas. It was another culture clash they had never considered before becoming parents, and it was hard. But then Bill would smile at her over the top of Charlie's head, or run his hands over her silvery hair, whispering terms of endearment in his horrible French, and that would make it all right again.

The nights took on a routine of their own. She would look over at Bill when he was mostly asleep on the couch with little Rose curled against his chest, and the realization that she loved them all was no longer such a shock. Hiking Charlie a little further up her shoulder, she would go tuck in their beautiful boy before reaching for equally priceless Rose; each of them needed their own alone time with Mama and Papa. Once the twins were settled, Fleur would curl up against Bill's side until the slight chill of the desert evening partnered with her soft melodic humming roused him. Inevitably when that happened, he'd flash her a quietly sleepy smile, put his arm round her, and carry her off to the four-poster bed in their own room.

Some things, after all, never changed.

[08 Jul 2006|11:57pm]
Fleur is sitting on the floor of their flat, holding a broken picture frame. The glass is broken, but their wedding picture, Bill twirling her about on top of that fake Eiffel Tower in Las Vegas, is still mostly in tact.

She can't say the same for their couch.

Most things are slashed, broken, shredded. Only one of her mother's paintings survived, and that's because Fleur had it under their bed because she had not found the right place to hang it.

At least nothing is burned. She just. No, she can't think of that right now.
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[26 Jun 2006|09:18pm]
Fleur is.


She hasn't cried yet.

It's been almost two days.

She remembered to eat because the babies started kicking, and she has to. She has other things and. She really wishes she could smoke or drink right about now.
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[12 May 2006|12:31am]
Fleur feels like a house. Even though she isn't even vaguely house shaped. A very mild beach ball might be the closest term. She isn't as big as she should be for 12 weeks.

But here they are. Finally back in the Healer's office. A new Healer. That deals with "special magical needs".

Fleur is trying to see her feet over the top of her tummy. She is in a midriff baring top and long, long skirt. Because she is going to show off her nice skin even if it sticks out in funny places.

"I can still see my toez." With sparkly nail polish!

The healer, doctor person took blood and haven't returned yet.
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OOC: Meme [27 Apr 2006|05:10pm]
Because I'm curious.

Tell me what you think of my characters. What am I doing wrong? What am I doing right? What is something you wish I would do with them? Tell me what ever you want for as many or as few as you want.

I play:

Fleur Delacour Weasley, leplusbeau
Touga Kiryuu, _bloodyrose
Sailor Venus/Minako Aino, _venus_de_milo
Piotr "Peter" Rasputin/Colossus, steelartisan
Leonardo the Ninja Turtle, ginsu_master

Be anonymous if you want! Comments are screened, IP logging is off. Be honest, no one will know but you and me. And hey, if you want to shout your feelings to the roof tops, say in the comment. I'll unscreen it. :) Whatever makes ya happy, dears.
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[19 Apr 2006|10:17pm]
It is a lovely and hot day in Luxor. The windows have been thrown open over their bed to let in the small breeze and scents of the market blow.

Empty bed, though.

Fleur is stretched out on her back on the hard wood floors. With several hand fans magicked above her to angle the breeze down. Her humming almost drowns out most of the noise from outside.
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[17 Apr 2006|10:53pm]
Fleur is leaning her forehead against the porcelain rim of the toilet bowl.

"Fourth time today. Fourth!"

She doesn't move. Because if she moves too fast after, it makes her head go a little fuzzy and she feels like she might pass out.

"Thought it waz supposed to be easier after first few weekz. Ew."

When she does finally manage to get up and take a look at herself in the mirror, she frowns. She isn't ugly. In fact, she has that healthy glow about her, her hair is sparkly, and she doesn't look that fat. Well. People keep saying that. She feels like a house. There these hip things and her breasts are huge and heavy and achy and stupid. She looks.

"Like an American girl! Ack!"

Fucking hips. Fucking tits.
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[30 Mar 2006|11:09pm]
In some healer's office in wizarding London...

Fleur is sitting on the cold examination table in her thin hospital robe, her bare feet swinging back and forth.

"You know. I even wore pantiez today to make them think that I wore them often. Thiz destroyz my entire plan to make a good impression."

She keeps tapping the table. It is day number six without smoking entirely.
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OOC: The Question Meme! [24 Mar 2006|12:47pm]
Ask Fleur, Sailor Venus, Touga, or Leo the Ninja Turtle anything. They'll answer at least some question in the universe if not yours.
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[06 Mar 2006|01:27am]
Fleur is fluffing pillows.

And cleaning.

And counting.

She wouldn't be counting days! Why would she be counting those?! She is counting pillows. PILLOWS.

Now she is counting the time ticking by on the clock. "I wonder where my 'usband iz," she asks herself aloud. She might have to call down and ask that their evening meal be delayed. She has been trying lately to have at least something warm for him waiting when he gets home.
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[25 Feb 2006|11:03am]
Take a moment to yourself. A moment to ponder...the female reproductive system.

Now, get your head out of gutter and picture a lovely flat in London. With flowers and herbs in the window box, an oven with a sign magicked to the viewing window 'BEWARE THE GHOUL', and a mish mash of high end furnishings dotted with ancient relics and collectibles among bits of furniture only your mother would love. If your mother loved plaid and earth tone florals.

"Why do you do thiz to me? Why?! 'ave I not treated you well?"

Oh dear.

"Do I not brush you? Care for you? Keep you trimmed?"

"You are waxed and plucked twice a month! You have nothing to be fussy about! I know the water iz hard in Egypt, but it can not be helped! The plumber man can not help! That iz why we kept the place in London because Bill likez it when my skin iz not flakey, and my hair iz not flat. But you must cooperate with me!"

Fleur continues to rant at her naked self in the bathroom mirror.

She then points at the toilet. "Thiz iz your fault! I am calling maintenance in the morning! You will not be here tomorrow!"
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[04 Feb 2006|11:13pm]
Fleur is glaring at her braid.

And her long black shirt sleeve if she was honest.

"Thiz iz itchy," she whines. "And my hair is poofy. And I can not decide where to put thiz vase. And my braid keepz coming out." She yanks at the braid again, starting to undo her work once more. "And I look like a sack of potatoz in thiz outfit."

She is in a long, black tunic and billowy pants. Pouting.

The sounds of Luxor can be heard out the stylized window with no glass panes. The shutters have been thrown up, the sky is clear, and the music of the city floats up all, seductive and wonderful.

"I hate my hair!"
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[29 Sep 2005|10:09pm]
Fleur is walking very carefully around the kitchen in a pair of fuzzy slippers "burrowed" lovingly from the husband. She is trying to finish putting together dinner for her husband that was stolen by goblins.

"I am making dinner for my 'usband," she giggles and tries to make an artistic order of the salad. Everything else is happily waiting on the table.

Since the take-out restaurant already plated that.
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[08 Sep 2005|08:58pm]
This is a very odd sight indeed.

Bowls are sorting themselves on the counter into manageable stacks. Dishes are being washed with floating brushes, dried, and putting themselves into the cabinets. Vegetables are dicing for a salad. A little too finely but they are self dicing!

Fleur is half inside the oven. Cleaning.

"What iz thiz?! Did these people nevah clean?! There iz a cake in 'ere! A cake! Baked into the side!"
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[02 Sep 2005|09:42pm]
Somewhere in London, there is a doorknob jiggling.

From inside the empty flat, two voices can be heard outside the door. 'Shouldn't we wait--'...'Why?'

Fleur throws the door open. "Really. If agentz are going to show a flat, they should be on time. You british can be very silly sometimez. In Paris, the landlady givez you a key and popz in every two mintuez saying 'you move in next week, yes?' Very simple system."
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[28 Aug 2005|10:56pm]
She is resting her chin on her knees. Just watching the open letter from Roland on the bed in front of her.

Fleur has never been good at goodbyes.
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[19 Aug 2005|12:43am]
It took several more days of persistence to get Molly to admit that Fleur and Bill were married. Fleur liked to think it was her ever present charm, wit, and polite social training that finally proved her point. And her utter genius as a tactician.

It might have actually had something with all the Fleur nakedness and her shouting matches with Molly in the early mornings along the lines of "Iz my husband! I will stay in his bed if I want! And I will do our dishez!"

When they finally left, Molly was teary eyed and gave them both tight hugs. And encourages for them both to come and visit again soon. Arthur just smiled and gave them both a squeeze before the two disappeared off to London.

And now they were in Paris. Walking hand in hand up the hilltop to Montmartre.

"Thiz iz where I grew up. Maman keepz a small tea and herb shop 'ere. The Parisians try to keep down the residential growth 'ere, so we lived over the shop. Everything alwayz smelled like flowerz. And so much sunshine. And daisies. Iz Maman'z favorite tea."

Fleur looks up shyly at Bill. "...what do you think?"
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[05 Aug 2005|10:48pm]
Fleur ushers the girls into the surprising smoke free club, keeping one hand on Tonks as she goes.

"Welcome, madams and mister to The Witch's Tit! The finest drag cabaret in London! -Starlet!"

Fleur pounces a big, hairy, beautiful drag queen and they air kiss as they coo at each other.

"Everyone, thiz iz Starlet. She will love you forever and alwayz. Sit, sit! And bring on the penis hatz!"
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[25 Jun 2005|10:54pm]
*Fleur is towel drying Bill's hair, humming an old lullaby under her breath.*

I wish I had not slept so hard for so long. I would have done thiz once we came back. You deserve to be pampered.

*She stops as she catches sight of her ring again.*

Oui. You deserve a great deal of pampering and worshiping.
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Things you never knew about Fleur [09 Apr 2005|04:47pm]
Things You Never KnewCollapse )
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