Toi

Toi

It annoys Percy no end to find himself awakened from his dream. He was dreaming of Penny, and as he opens his eyes, he can still feel the tendrils of her hair whispering across his skin.

And hears another muffled shout from downstairs.

Really. Must his brothers gabble about like tinkers at all hours? No respect...

He looks over towards the full moon of his alarm clock, then reaches for his glasses.

"Non, Perceval, please," a soft voice calls from across the room, near the door. "Leave rest your glasses, please."

Fleur. "Miss Delacour..."

"Fleur, please, Perceval. It 'as to be that I talk with you, please, don't put on your lunettes..."

Her English has slipped, Percy notes. Has she been drinking? Or crying? He pulls his pajama top closed. "How may I help you... Fleur? And why do you not want me to put on my glasses? I can barely see you." In the moonlight, her hair is a silvery blob halfway up the wall; her face is a scarcely paler oval in the middle.

"I would rather it was this way, s'il te plait..." She sniffs lightly.

Perhaps drinking and crying. "All right," Percy says, noting with some disgust that he has adopted his Reasonable Voice. "What can I do for you?" It feels as if he is greeting a colleague from the French Bureau de Magique rather than his eldest brother's part-Veela girlfriend.

"Perceval... Did you know the Veela tell stories about your name... uh, homonyme... namesake, yes?"

"The knight in the Grail stories?"

"Oui," she says softly in a way that makes Percy pull his blankets up a bit higher, for all that it's a warm summer night.

"Well, he's a bit of a buffoon, really."

"Not in the stories my grand-mere tells. 'Er stories of 'is travels are very romantique... 'Is name, Perce-val, your name, it means 'to pierce the valley.' And of course, to the Veela, that 'as a meaning very erotic. Because, to the Veela, l'érotique, c'est tout. But it also means... Not to choose one side or the other, but to find a different path. Oui?"

"Oui," Percy agrees, flinching at the sound of the word as it leaves his lips.

"Do you remember, Perceval, when you came to 'Ogwarts, to judge the Tournament?"

He is very aware that she is walking forward, towards the foot of his bed. "I remember quite well."

"I know I did the wrong thing. I knew it then. To kiss you... I did not think then that it would be such a wrong thing to do. But it was wrong. I know that."

She has the damp sound that Penny sometimes gets when she has been crying. Is she crying? "Fleur?..."

"Non, Perceval, please, let me finish. I kissed you because, from when I was twelve years old just till that point, any man I wanted to make do something, I only 'ad to flutter my eyes at 'im. And a kiss?" She made a uniquely Gallic sound of dismissal. "Grown men bent like pieces of paille, of straw. It was too easy. And so when I 'ad the chance to kiss a juge... I knew I was cheating, but it seemed to me that Madame Maxime was the only one of the teachers who seemed to give a care..." Her weight settles on the bed, just below Percy's knee.

"Actually, Dumbledore..."

"Je sais, Percy, I know that now." He can make out the lines of her face, now, if not the details. He can see that she is in little more than a slip. "Perceval, I am sorry for what I did. But... it taught me something." Her weight whispers onto his bed, the coverlet pressing down on his shins. "Percy, when you refused me, I was... shocked, oui? It 'ad never 'appened before. At first, I 'ad anger towards you but then.... I found it very attrayant, this power of yours."

"Power?" Percy asks, trying not to squeak. Think of Penny, he thinks. Think of Penny. Her hair on my stomach. Her lips. Oh. Don't think of Penny...

"The fact that you did not... bend to my charmes. You see, most men melt to a Veela like butter. Especially young men. Your brother Ron--I felt badly for 'im that year, but it was très amusant.... But not you."

"Well, it wasn't right, you know," he says, trying to keep his breathing even, bending his knees to relieve the pressure somewhat. "And I had Penny."

"Yes, I know that now. Even so... 'Ow is Penelope, by the way?" She rests a featherlight hand on his knee.

"Well. Researching herbs in Brazil with Professor Sprout for another few weeks..." I miss her, he thinks. I miss curling myself around her, and curving myself within her and... He sighs.

"Je comprend," says Fleur. She sits silently for a moment. "When I met Guillaume, 'e 'ad that same strength. I could love 'im without that changing 'o 'e was, oui? I 'ad not believed that a man could be enough... 'imself, that my nature would not... zut... accable... overpower 'im, you understand? But then I 'ad met you. And young 'Arry. And so, when I met Bill..." A sniffle. She is crying. "You will probably not believe me. Everyone thinks a thing like me, I would 'ave affairs of love constantly. After all, I am part Veela, non? Merde! I am French!" spits Fleur. "But Bill is the first man I have loved, truly. It is very... affrighting. To think that love is something that 'appens to other peoples because of glamours and pheromones. And to find it 'appening to you." She reaches to where a box of tissues lies on his nightstand and, with an uncharacteristic honk, blows her nose.

Percy resists the urge to reach out to her. "Is?... Has something happened, Fleur? Did you and Bill?..."

"Tonight, I ask Guillaume to marry me," Fleur sobs, "and 'e says yes." Now she begins to cry in earnest, and Percy's sense of propriety is beginning to shatter. This young woman is in your bedroom in the middle of the night, weeping, telling you... that she is engaged to marry your older brother? Is it appropriate to give comfort? What are the limits to the forms of comfort that may be given?

Before he has even had time to enumerate his options, Percy sits forward and puts his arms around Fleur's heaving shoulders, patting her back in a manner that he hopes is calming. "Well," he stutters, "I, uh, suppose that congratulations are in order..."

But she simply cries on.

He can feel her tears on his neck, and has a moment of panic. Aren't Veela tears supposed to be dangerous? Or was that Ondines? "Fleur? Are you... happy?"

"YES!"

"Then, uh, what... Shouldn't you be talking to Bill? Or perhaps... my parents?"

In the midst of sobbing, she laughs, and then the tears begin to wane. "Perceval.... I 'ave a favor I wish to ask of you. That is why I 'ave come 'ere tonight."

"Well, Fleur, I'd be... happy. To do anything. Within reason."

She sits back, and Percy can see, close as she is, that her face is blotchy and tear-streaked. And that she is smiling.

"Bien," she says. "Percy, can you see me clearly? Do you need your lunettes?"

"No," he says, trying not to lose himself in the sapphire glare of her eyes, the shimmer of her hair. The heaving of her small... poitrine. "I'm near-sighted. I can see you perfectly at this distance."

"Good," she sighs and kisses him, deeply, her tongue dancing across his lips, her lithe fingers dancing across his throat and chest.

With a start, he breaks the kiss, but she holds onto his face, locking his startled eyes on hers.

"Perceval," she purrs, "tell me what to do."

He blinks. What to do? What kind of a question?... He takes a deep breath, and gazes into those blue eyes. "I'm married, Fleur. Penny and I eloped last year. I've been waiting till she gets back to tell the family."

"Oui?" she sighs. "And what would you like me to do, Perceval Weasley?"

He takes her hands in his but keeps the eye contact. "That depends rather on what this little demonstration was intended to achieve. If you were simply trying to have a last-minute fling, then I think..." I think you should fuck off and go die, he thinks, but chooses not to say. "I think you should leave this room at once."

She shakes her head. "Non, that is not why I 'ave done this..."

"Well," Percy continues, "if you are trying to prove to yourself that Weasley men are defective..."

She shakes her head vehemently.

"Or that we mean what we say, bollocks the charms and glamours..."

She nods vigorously.

Percy takes a deep breath. "Then I think you should stop questioning yourself. He doesn't talk to me much, Bill. But I know he loves you. I've never seen him so... well, not silly about a person. And so, then, what I want you to do, Miss Delacour, is get off of my bed, and go and tell my eldest brother from me that he is the second luckiest man on either side of the Channel."

With a laugh, she throws her arms around his neck and hugs him, then gives him a quick peck on either cheek. "Thank you, Perceval. You 'ave filled me of joy, and of relief."

"My pleasure," Percy says. Then he looks at her face, and he cannot stop himself. "Fleur, may I?... Just... You know that Bill's past is a little... unusual, yes?"

She peers at him quizzically, and then giggles. "You mean, 'e 'as dated boys? Mais oui. We 'ave 'ad some very interesting conversations, Guillaume and I." Her smile in that moment is so supremely wicked that Percy has no choice but to blush. "And congratulations on your marriage, Percy." Again, she kisses him on either cheek. And the blush deepens.

"Uh, thank you, thank you very much. I feel terrible of course, that Mum was deprived of seeing her first child off properly... She'll be broken-hearted when we tell her..."

"She will be 'appy, I think, that you are 'appy." The dazzling eyes dim slightly. "She does not like me very much, your mother, I think."

"Well, I could give you the same advice you just gave me. Trust that she'll take joy in Bill's joy, and leave it at that. If you truly love Bill, then she will love you." Percy sits back, and as his vision blurs, he can feel the effect of her gaze softening. "Fleur... Why me? Was it just the thing that happened at the Tri-Wizard Tournament? Surely there is someone else..."

"Oui?" Fleur asks, a sad laugh in her voice. "Qui? I thought about your father. But then I would never 'ave been able to look your mother in the face! The twins? They are nothing if not... impulsive, yes? Charles, I could 'ave asked, but 'e 'as 'ad bad experiences with Veela in Romania, 'e said. Also, Tonks and I are friendly enough, but if I tried something like that on 'er boyfriend, I think I would get a very good demonstration of the Auror techniques of combat. Ron, 'e probably would 'ave been fine, but I wouldn't want to make messes of what 'e is making with 'ermione. Any more than more than I would want to do that to la petite Ginèvre..."

Percy feels a breath suck itself in. "You... Ginny?"

She laughs again. "Really, Percy, you need to broaden your 'orizons! But no, I do not like girls, since they typically do not like me. I simply meant that I wouldn't want to threaten anything between 'er and 'Arry. I am... very fond of 'Arry."

"As are we all," Percy mutters. "But... Upset Harry? Are you talking about the attack on Grimmauld Place?

She smiles and shakes her flaxen head.

"Well, then, what are you talking about getting in the way of? Between him and Ginny? Between Ron and Miss Granger?"

This time the laugh comes out as more of a snort. "Stay 'ere a few more days, mon chevalier de la table ronde, watch them, those four, and then ask that question again, d'accord?" She reaches out and touches Percy's shoulder. "That left you, Perceval. And it was necessary that I know, yes? Because, after Bill said yes to me, 'e became very... Le mot, le mot... Withdrawn? It frightened me. And so I thought that, perhaps, in my own need, I 'ad charmed 'im, in spite of myself... He got up to go to the WC, and I snuck in 'ere. I 'ad been waiting for some time before you woke, and I thought, Take your chance, oui?"

"Oui," Percy demurs, then looks to the door. "Won't he be... worried about you?"

She shrugs, her cloud of blonde hair billowing in the moonlight. "I think I 'eard 'im going downstairs just before you woke."

There is another cry from the kitchen.

"Oh, yes." He peers over to the clock. It seems to read 2:45 in the morning. "What on earth can he be doing down there? And who's with him? That sounded like a..." He glances to Fleur.

"Oui, that was a girl. I'm not jealous, Percy. I am worried that my Bill loves too much, not that 'e does not love enough. Come," she says, "shall we go down and find out what it is that is so amusing?"

"Certainly," Percy sighs. If only to guarantee a quiet night's sleep, he thinks. "Would you mind passing me my dressing gown from the chair?"

"Bien sûr," she says.

As she gets it, he grabs his glasses. When he turns to take his robe, he is suddenly struck by how fortunate he was that she did not let him put on his glasses before conducting her little experiment. Percy generally likes girls who are, well, womanly, full-figured. Like Penny, if it comes to that. Generally, skinny girls do nothing for him whatsoever. But the sight of Fleur Delacour, sylph-like, sitting on his bed in nothing more than a very elegant silk nightgown, très décolletée, is more than he thinks his heart could have taken had he risen straight from his dream of Penny... to that.

She smiles, catlike, and holds out his robe.

Percy follows her down the stairs, watching the champagne-hued silk move over her body, and thinks, The twins are right. I must be the biggest prat alive to have turned that down. Twice. He sighs.

When they reach the kitchen, there is a babble of giggles, squeals and sighs coming from over by the counter, where Hermione Granger is holding forth to Ginny and Harry. "Well," she says, "it was actually Ron's idea. He said wizarding families hyphenate all of the time, though it's usually when the wife is a pureblood. I wanted Weasley-Granger, but he said he wanted Granger-Weasley. Just before he fell asleep."

Percy's breath catches. He looks over to Fleur, but she has sat in Bill's lap, and does not seem to have heard. Harry laughs, and Ginny smiles, saying, "He always did want something that was just his."

Percy feels his Head Boy voice boiling up. "In the first place, what are you talking about? In the second place... What on earth are you all doing up? It's nearly three in the morning!"

There is laughter from Hermione, Ginny and Harry, from Bill and Fleur. Charlie and Tonks are sitting together, sipping tea quietly, and there is no laughter from them. "Percy," Ginny says, "lighten up! This is a day to celebrate! Fleur's asked..."

"Yes, yes, I know, she and Bill are getting married. She told me. Congratulations, Bill, by the way." Bill winks, and Percy turns to Hermione. "But what's this about you and my youngest brother?..."

Hermione squares her shoulders to him, her face suddenly shifting from pink glee to dark glower, and Percy is forcibly reminded that she is no longer the precocious, buck-toothed little girl that he took under his wing when he was Prefect. "Percy, we are of age. And, even if we weren't..." She shoots a look to Harry, who blinks. "Even if we weren't, it wouldn't change the fact that we have faced death and terror together, let alone all the normal adolescent crap, fought through it together, and got here. We love each other. We know what we're doing. We're not getting married tomorrow. But there's a war on! We could die tomorrow, any of us, and doesn't it make sense to tell the people we love that we love them, while we've got the chance? With all that's going on, why wait?"

Stunned, Percy nods.

"So," Bill calls gleefully, "the only question that remains now--aside from which of us Mum will yell at loudest, me for waiting so long, or Ron, for not waiting long enough--is who gets married first, the youngest Weasley brother, or the eldest!"

The young trio at the counter laugh. Charlie peers at Tonks's impassive face, a pained expression on his own. Fleur nods to Percy, a sphinx-like smile on her elegant, full lips.

"Actually," Percy says, suddenly lightheaded, "I think, I may have something to say about that..."

Charlie looks up, aghast. "Et tu, Brute?"

Fleur reaches across and touches Tonks's shoulder. "Et toi aussi, mon frère...."

* * *

AN: The French here comes from my rusty store of long-ago high school. I tried to write it so that it would be clear what she was saying even if you don't speak French.

However, a couple of translations of some of the more obscure stuff, just to clear some things up:

l'érotique, c'est tout=the erotic is everything/means everything

mon chevalier de la table ronde=my Knight of the Round Table (that is, Percival--what can I say, she likes his name! :wink:)

Et toi aussi, mon frère....=and you too, my brother

attrayant=attractive

accabler=to overwhelm