Charms and Curses

Whee! I'm on a role!!! Here's Chapter 10!! Aren't you happy?

Anyway, for those who thought Chapter 9 was great and fluffy and wonderful and hope that this chapter will be just like it...sorry. This will not be another action-less fluffster. The angst...the glorious ANGST!!!!!! *dramatic sigh* But do not despair! The fluff WILL return when the time is right! Just keep reading and reviewing!!~.^

Disclaimers apply.

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The next morning, when Fleur awoke, she noticed several unusual things. First of all, she had been sleeping outside in a tent. Second of all, despite the chilliness of the preceding night, she was toasty warm. Thirdly and most disturbingly, her head had been pillowed on Bill's shoulder, one hand resting on his *bare* chest, and from the looks of it, she had fallen sleep in his arms. Blushing wildly, she moved away from him. He did not stir, still fast asleep.

Fleur gazed at his sleeping form. He was beautiful. Not with the august, unearthly beauty of ones with veela blood, perhaps, but with an easy, unaffected grace that came from intelligence and good, solid values. His hair was out of its ponytail, fanned out upon his pillow. Lightly, so as not to wake him, she reached out a finger to gently touch one long strand of red hair.

Then, she jerked it back, as if his hair was fire, like its color so resembled. In her mind, she remembered that day, the first time that she had seen her mother cry...

Blanche Chapelle had been a beautiful young girl of 16 when Laramie Delacour had made it his mission to sweep her off her feet. A half-veela by birth, Blanche was easily the most beautiful girl in the entire Beauxbatons Academy. Charming, sophisticated and smart, she was the girl that every boy wished to call his own. But Blanche was shy, and did not talk to him at first.

However, this did not deter Laramie in the slightest, for Blanche was the most beautiful girl he knew, and he was determined to have her. Thus, he courted her, with flowers and music and lots and lots of sweet words, and gradually, Blanche warmed up to him, and fell madly in love with him.

They married after graduation, and Blanche was sure that it would be a blissful union, happily ever after like a fairy tale. And at first, it was. Laramie was the perfect husband, and no father could have been more proud when their first child, Fleur, was born. But it was not to last, for beauty, even veela beauty fades in time, and when Blanche had lost her bloom, Laramie similarly lost his interest.

The long absences from home grew more and more frequent, and the boredom when he WAS home as well. Though she tried to deny it, ignore the unmistakable signs, Blanche knew what was happening. Her adored husband was falling out of love with her. She tried desperately to pique his interest...buying new and flattering clothing and cosmetics, but it was gone, faded like dead roses, like her beauty. One day, without preamble or warning, Laramie simply packed and moved out, never to be seen again.

Where she had once been a charming, happy girl, now she was a bitter, reserved woman. When her husband had left her, Fleur had caught her lying facedown on one of the sofas, tangled blonde hair scattered all about her, crying heartbrokenly. And she had taken the girl aside, and told her to always be careful around men. Never let them in her heart, for she would be the one to end up hurt in the end. Fleur and Gabrielle had both inherited Blanche's stunning veela beauty, and Blanche did not want her daughters to end up like she did. Love was hurtful, Blanche had told Fleur, and whatever else you do, don't give anyone your heart for him to break.

Now, Fleur gazed at Bill, still sleeping, and her vision blurred with tears. She was frighteningly close to entering that danger zone, that place where she would offer up her heart to someone, only to have it shattered. He was an intelligent man, one who valued what was genuine and not superficial, and even though he might be enthralled by her veela beauty right now, it would not last. It would not do to fall for him.

Yes, she would make sure not to behave in a less than absolutely professional manner from now on. He would undoubtedly protest at first, but it would be for the best. He would eventually stop fancying that he was in love with her, and keep his distance...and she...she would...eventually...get over him. Yes, she would. She hoped.

A warm hand covered hers, and Fleur was brought back to reality with a jerk. He was awake, although still lying down, and gazing at her with those beautiful dark brown eyes. Such warmth, such tenderness in his eyes! Fleur sharply turned away so he would not see her tears.

But, obviously, she had not turned in time, for his other hand came up to cup her chin firmly, turning her face so that she was looking him in the eye. But she could not bear to look at him, and so, she closed her eyes. Twin teardrops bubbled at the corners of her eyes and trickled down her cheeks.

She felt smooth lips brushing against her cheeks, kissing the tears away, and abruptly moved away. "No, we can't. Bill, I'm sorry, but we cannot do zis."

She had expected anger, indignation, accusations, names. But Bill simply said, in a soft, sad voice, "Why?"

She WAS going to say something cold and callous, deliberately, in order to break his heart and make him hate her and thus keep his distance. She WAS going to retreat behind the ice-princess shell she'd always worn in Beauxbatons, and he would be disgusted. But when she opened her mouth, all that came out were a few dejected words in a defeated voice, "Because I can't fall in love wis you."

Bill sucked in a breath. A part of him wanted to hate her, to detest and despise her for playing him. But he was too honest and fair with himself to do such a thing. She had not done anything to make him love her, except to be herself. And right now, her eyes full of tears and her face pale, he knew that this decision, whatever reason she had for making it, was not an easy decision. So he simply dropped her hands, and took a deep breath before saying, "All right, Fleur, if that is what you want, I am not going to force the issue." His voice took on a friendly but impersonal note, and he cleared his throat, "Let's pack; if we hurry, we can reach Alexandria by nightfall."

Wordlessly, the two of them started packing, avoiding each other's eyes. Within moments, everything had been stowed away, charmed to be light and portable. A silence descended upon both of them as they continued on their way.