ficsbydeenas (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ficsbydeenas) wrote2006-08-31 08:26 am
ficsbydeenas) wrote2006-08-31 08:26 am
Entry tags:
FIC--Je T'aime, Monsieur Beel
Title: Je T'aime, Monsieur Beel
Pairing: Bill and Fleur
Rating: R for language
Words:2155
Summary: But then again, whenever I’m around her, I want to touch her, I want to run my fingers through her platinum hair, I want to pull her close and wrap my arms around her, I want to spend every waking moment with her, I want to bend down and touch her full lips with mine…Shit.
It’s love.
And Mum’s going to kill me. Or her.
Author Note: This is unbetaed. I wrote this on a "dare" from![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
mrspadf00t. She was evil with me and yet I still loff her.
“Je T'aime, Monsieur Beel”
~*~
I consider myself to be a relatively calm and collected bloke; I leave the worrying and self-doubt to my youngest brother, Ron. By why is it that someone a year older than my twin brothers has this kind of effect on me? She’s really not all that pretty, and, as far as I can tell, hasn’t attempted to woo me with her annoying Veela charms. They really have no effect on me since the goblins of Gringotts cast a charm on me when I first went to Egypt; Nefertiti was a Veela as was Isis, and all that Veela-ness (is that a word?) is still very powerful and would have distracted me from my work. But any way, since it’s not her breeding and background, is it, dare I say, love?
No, it couldn’t be. She’s a bloody nineteen-year-old French girl who can barely speak to me in my native tongue.
But then again, whenever I’m around her, I want to touch her, I want to run my fingers through her platinum hair, I want to pull her close and wrap my arms around her, I want to spend every waking moment with her, I want to bend down and touch her full lips with mine…Shit.
It’s love.
And Mum’s going to kill me. Or her.
When did this all start? Well, let me explain.
~*~
“…and DON’T let it happen again!” I shouted at the silver-haired girl in my office. She had come into my office three minute earlier to help me with some translations and as she reached over to replenish her quill with ink, the bottle tipped over, drenching my mahogany desk with India ink, as well as my new wool trousers.
“Oh, Monsieur Beel, I am very sorree about zat. Please let me help vous.” She began blotting the ink with a towel she’d conjured. The spot began spreading and I cursed under my breath at her. “Sacre bleu, I sink it is getting much worse.”
“Really? Just stop it, Fleur! I can fix it myself,” I grabbed her hand and felt an electricity run through my arm, settling somewhere in the vicinity of my heart. Or was it my groin. I wasn’t sure. I stared at my hand on hers for what seemed like forever, taking not e at how pale her skin was against mine and how small hers was in comparison to my own. I looked up at her and saw a mixture of fear and worry, noticing that she was beginning to cry. Oh, bullocks. Crying girls will be the death of me, I’m sure, and this one was becoming an impressive waterfall.
“Je suis si désolé! Je ne le ferai encore jamais!” she began backing away towards the door, stumbling along the way. The poor thing was frazzled and her tears continued to fall. She backed into a pedestal with a large Egyptian vase and the vessel fell to the floor, shattering into piece.
“Go! Just go Fleur! Be more careful and DON’T let it happen again!” She bolted out the door and I could hear her as she ran down the hall. With a quick Evanesco and Reparo, I cleaned the mess off my desk and trousers and the vase was back on the pedestal. Shaking my head, I returned to my desk and began shuffling through the parchments of translations we’d been working on. Suddenly, the door flew open to reveal one very angry goblin.
“WEASLEY! What did you do?” Griphook stared at me and waved a crooked finger at me. “What’d you do?” In all my life, I will never feel so scared. Yes, all six foot two of me was scared of a four-foot tall goblin. It was a good thing Charlie wasn’t there because I would never live this one down.
“Uh, I don’t know what you’re talking about, Griphook,” I lied, trying to sound as casual as I could.
“Delacour just ran out of here crying and mumbling something about idiotic boorish oafs, and I can only assume it was about you.” The goblin crossed his thin arms in front of him and scowled at me, his sneer chilling me to the bone. “Go apologize to her. I can’t have the best apprentice Curse Breaker crying because of the likes of you, Weasley!”
I walked toward the door, stopping to take my cloak from the hook. “Do I have permission to take her to lunch and apologize there?” Griphook smiled, or at least I think he smiled and handed me a plastic card.
“Use the bank’s charge card,” he informed me. He was still smiling as I left.
~*~
I stood outside the collection of cubicles in the first sublevel of Gringotts not remembering it being so damp down here before. There was a muffled sniffing to my left and knew it had to be her. I walked over to the opening and cleared my throat, causing her to jump.
“Bonjour, Monsieur Beel.” She dabbed her eyes with a lacy handkerchief.
“It’s Bill. Just Bill.”
“Oui. Beel.” She nodded.
“No, B-I-L-L. Like hill,” I said exaggerating the sounds.
“What can I do for vous?” Her tears had finally stopped and I felt a bit more comfortable in her cubicle.
“I just wanted to apologize for yelling at you in my office. It was an old vase.” I smiled as I sat in the chair opposite hers.
“Apology accepted, Beel. Eez zere anysing else I can do for you?” She batted her eyelashes at me and they sparkled in the light. I rolled my eyes.
“Um, I was wondering if you’d let me make it up to you over lunch at the Leaky,” I asked, half hoping she would complain about the English cuisine and I’d be off the hook.
“Oui! I would so enjoy zat, Monsieur Beel!” She sprang from her chair and grabbed her cloak.
“It’s Bill. Just Bill.”
~*~
We walked side by side through Diagon Alley as rain fell lightly upon us in silence. Well, I was silent. Fleur was cursing the British weather in French, and I gathered it had something to do with her hair. As we neared the back entry of The Leaky Cauldron, I noticed a slick spot on the cobblestone. Before I could say anything to Fleur, she slipped and fell on her bum in the muddy puddle.
“Fuck!” she swore, followed by several other epithets I had heard on the way over. Being raised to be a gentleman, I held out my hand, helped her to her feet, and cast cleansing charms on her clothing.
“Merci beaucoup, Beel,” she said as I held the door open for her. Once inside, we were able to find a table in the corner, and we were soon lost in conversation.
It was so easy to talk to her about anything and everything. We talked about the bank, about our respective schools. Hell, we even talked about Quidditch. She loves the sport, too. Amazing. She told me that snakes frightened her almost as much as spiders frightened Ron. She told me how scared she was during the Third Task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament.
I told her about my family and our stupid little house in the country. I told her about my time in Egypt and the fascinating things I saw and experienced there. She hung on my every word and it was wonderful. Before we knew it, two hours had passed and we had to run in the pelting rain all the way back to Gringotts, laughing all the while.
Over the next few weeks, Fleur and I had a little routine. On Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, we’d have lunch somewhere together. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, we’d have ice cream after work at Fortescue’s. She and I would talk. Just talk and it wasn’t work at all.
After Dad was attacked at the Ministry, she was there to listen to my fears of losing my parents. I would go over to her flat in Diagon Alley and she’d make me espresso or a latte. In fact, I went over there so much, I stopped drinking tea all together. It was shortly after my brothers and Ginny returned to school in the New Year that I started to feel something other than friendship for her. I’d never had a woman as a friend before, and it scared the hell out of me. I didn’t want to mess this up. How could I feel this way when I hadn’t even kissed her yet?
On a Tuesday in the middle of January, she wasn’t at the bank. Her immediate supervisor wouldn’t tell me anything, so after work, I found myself standing outside the door of her flat, knocking entirely too hard.
“Beel! How nice to see you!” She pulled me in for a hug, as was her custom lately. “You meesed me I ‘ope!”
“Uh, yeah. I just wanted to check to see how you were doing.” She took me by the hand and led me into the kitchen, sitting me down on one of the chairs. “Excuse moi, while I change into something more presentable.” For the first time since I’d known her, I noticed her clothes. At the moment, she was wearing a baggy pair of jeans and a midriff baring t-shirt. That was just fine with me.
“You don’t have to, you know. You look great,” I told her. The jeans sat below her navel and I saw for the first time that her belly button was pierced and she sported a ruby stud.
“Merci. I shall stay in zees, then. Coffee?” I nodded and watched as she expertly used the French press and then presented me with a cup of steaming coffee. “So, Beel. To what do I owe zees pleasure?” She tossed her long platinum hair over her shoulder and tilted her head to the side.
“Are you sick?”
“I was a bit under zee wezzer zees morning, but am much better now.” She stared at me and began twirling her hair around one of her fingers before scooting next to me and pressing her thigh against mine. I edged away from her, but she followed.
Our conversation was impersonal and punctuated with her blatant flirting. She tried caressing my back, playing with my hair, whispering so I would have to lean into her. At one point, her hand found its way to my knee and my response was to scream like a little girl, causing her to giggle at me. I found this all rather entertaining and amusing. She really shouldn’t have to try this hard, and couldn’t understand why she just wouldn’t come right out and say what she was thinking. But I knew that if I let it continue much longer, she’d really make an ass out of herself and embarrass us both.
“Fleur, you know you don’t have to flirt with me so much.” There it was out in the open. “You should know by now that Veelas don’t affect me.” At those words, she stood up from her chair, sending it clattering to the floor.
“Eez that all you sink of me? After all zees time, I’m nothing, Guillaume?” She took my coffee cup and threw it into the sink, shattering it in the process. “I don’t understand how you can be so cold after every zing we have been through. I thought you cared about me, Beel, but I suppose I am wrong, no?
My heart fell into the pit of my stomach at her words and I stood up and walked over to her as she stood against the worktop. “No, that’s not it at all, Fleur.” She looked away and I put my hand on her chin to bring her face back towards mine. Taking a step closer to her, I felt my body touch hers and the little bits of electricity began surging through me again.
I couldn’t help it. I leaned down and touched her lips with mine. Her lips were soft and supple and tasted faintly of coffee. I ran my tongue across her lips and then she opened her mouth to me, chasing and finally capturing my tongue with hers. She caressed mine gently, delicately, while my hands fell to her waist and stroked the smooth flesh of her torso. Fleur leaned in and deepened the kiss, taking control of me with her mouth. A silly thought entered my mind, and I laughed into her mouth.
“What eez so funny? Am I doing any zing wrong?”
“No, not at all. I just received my first real French kiss, that’s all.” She was smiling at me and, if I wasn’t mistaken, was glowing. Merlin she’s beautiful. “I think I’m falling in love with you, Fleur.”
“Of course you are.” With her hands in my hair, she pulled me down for another kiss that was, if possible, more passionate than the last. “Je t'aime, Monsieur Beel.”
“Je t'aime.”
Pairing: Bill and Fleur
Rating: R for language
Words:2155
Summary: But then again, whenever I’m around her, I want to touch her, I want to run my fingers through her platinum hair, I want to pull her close and wrap my arms around her, I want to spend every waking moment with her, I want to bend down and touch her full lips with mine…Shit.
It’s love.
And Mum’s going to kill me. Or her.
Author Note: This is unbetaed. I wrote this on a "dare" from
mrspadf00t. She was evil with me and yet I still loff her.~*~
I consider myself to be a relatively calm and collected bloke; I leave the worrying and self-doubt to my youngest brother, Ron. By why is it that someone a year older than my twin brothers has this kind of effect on me? She’s really not all that pretty, and, as far as I can tell, hasn’t attempted to woo me with her annoying Veela charms. They really have no effect on me since the goblins of Gringotts cast a charm on me when I first went to Egypt; Nefertiti was a Veela as was Isis, and all that Veela-ness (is that a word?) is still very powerful and would have distracted me from my work. But any way, since it’s not her breeding and background, is it, dare I say, love?
No, it couldn’t be. She’s a bloody nineteen-year-old French girl who can barely speak to me in my native tongue.
But then again, whenever I’m around her, I want to touch her, I want to run my fingers through her platinum hair, I want to pull her close and wrap my arms around her, I want to spend every waking moment with her, I want to bend down and touch her full lips with mine…Shit.
It’s love.
And Mum’s going to kill me. Or her.
When did this all start? Well, let me explain.
~*~
“…and DON’T let it happen again!” I shouted at the silver-haired girl in my office. She had come into my office three minute earlier to help me with some translations and as she reached over to replenish her quill with ink, the bottle tipped over, drenching my mahogany desk with India ink, as well as my new wool trousers.
“Oh, Monsieur Beel, I am very sorree about zat. Please let me help vous.” She began blotting the ink with a towel she’d conjured. The spot began spreading and I cursed under my breath at her. “Sacre bleu, I sink it is getting much worse.”
“Really? Just stop it, Fleur! I can fix it myself,” I grabbed her hand and felt an electricity run through my arm, settling somewhere in the vicinity of my heart. Or was it my groin. I wasn’t sure. I stared at my hand on hers for what seemed like forever, taking not e at how pale her skin was against mine and how small hers was in comparison to my own. I looked up at her and saw a mixture of fear and worry, noticing that she was beginning to cry. Oh, bullocks. Crying girls will be the death of me, I’m sure, and this one was becoming an impressive waterfall.
“Je suis si désolé! Je ne le ferai encore jamais!” she began backing away towards the door, stumbling along the way. The poor thing was frazzled and her tears continued to fall. She backed into a pedestal with a large Egyptian vase and the vessel fell to the floor, shattering into piece.
“Go! Just go Fleur! Be more careful and DON’T let it happen again!” She bolted out the door and I could hear her as she ran down the hall. With a quick Evanesco and Reparo, I cleaned the mess off my desk and trousers and the vase was back on the pedestal. Shaking my head, I returned to my desk and began shuffling through the parchments of translations we’d been working on. Suddenly, the door flew open to reveal one very angry goblin.
“WEASLEY! What did you do?” Griphook stared at me and waved a crooked finger at me. “What’d you do?” In all my life, I will never feel so scared. Yes, all six foot two of me was scared of a four-foot tall goblin. It was a good thing Charlie wasn’t there because I would never live this one down.
“Uh, I don’t know what you’re talking about, Griphook,” I lied, trying to sound as casual as I could.
“Delacour just ran out of here crying and mumbling something about idiotic boorish oafs, and I can only assume it was about you.” The goblin crossed his thin arms in front of him and scowled at me, his sneer chilling me to the bone. “Go apologize to her. I can’t have the best apprentice Curse Breaker crying because of the likes of you, Weasley!”
I walked toward the door, stopping to take my cloak from the hook. “Do I have permission to take her to lunch and apologize there?” Griphook smiled, or at least I think he smiled and handed me a plastic card.
“Use the bank’s charge card,” he informed me. He was still smiling as I left.
~*~
I stood outside the collection of cubicles in the first sublevel of Gringotts not remembering it being so damp down here before. There was a muffled sniffing to my left and knew it had to be her. I walked over to the opening and cleared my throat, causing her to jump.
“Bonjour, Monsieur Beel.” She dabbed her eyes with a lacy handkerchief.
“It’s Bill. Just Bill.”
“Oui. Beel.” She nodded.
“No, B-I-L-L. Like hill,” I said exaggerating the sounds.
“What can I do for vous?” Her tears had finally stopped and I felt a bit more comfortable in her cubicle.
“I just wanted to apologize for yelling at you in my office. It was an old vase.” I smiled as I sat in the chair opposite hers.
“Apology accepted, Beel. Eez zere anysing else I can do for you?” She batted her eyelashes at me and they sparkled in the light. I rolled my eyes.
“Um, I was wondering if you’d let me make it up to you over lunch at the Leaky,” I asked, half hoping she would complain about the English cuisine and I’d be off the hook.
“Oui! I would so enjoy zat, Monsieur Beel!” She sprang from her chair and grabbed her cloak.
“It’s Bill. Just Bill.”
~*~
We walked side by side through Diagon Alley as rain fell lightly upon us in silence. Well, I was silent. Fleur was cursing the British weather in French, and I gathered it had something to do with her hair. As we neared the back entry of The Leaky Cauldron, I noticed a slick spot on the cobblestone. Before I could say anything to Fleur, she slipped and fell on her bum in the muddy puddle.
“Fuck!” she swore, followed by several other epithets I had heard on the way over. Being raised to be a gentleman, I held out my hand, helped her to her feet, and cast cleansing charms on her clothing.
“Merci beaucoup, Beel,” she said as I held the door open for her. Once inside, we were able to find a table in the corner, and we were soon lost in conversation.
It was so easy to talk to her about anything and everything. We talked about the bank, about our respective schools. Hell, we even talked about Quidditch. She loves the sport, too. Amazing. She told me that snakes frightened her almost as much as spiders frightened Ron. She told me how scared she was during the Third Task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament.
I told her about my family and our stupid little house in the country. I told her about my time in Egypt and the fascinating things I saw and experienced there. She hung on my every word and it was wonderful. Before we knew it, two hours had passed and we had to run in the pelting rain all the way back to Gringotts, laughing all the while.
Over the next few weeks, Fleur and I had a little routine. On Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, we’d have lunch somewhere together. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, we’d have ice cream after work at Fortescue’s. She and I would talk. Just talk and it wasn’t work at all.
After Dad was attacked at the Ministry, she was there to listen to my fears of losing my parents. I would go over to her flat in Diagon Alley and she’d make me espresso or a latte. In fact, I went over there so much, I stopped drinking tea all together. It was shortly after my brothers and Ginny returned to school in the New Year that I started to feel something other than friendship for her. I’d never had a woman as a friend before, and it scared the hell out of me. I didn’t want to mess this up. How could I feel this way when I hadn’t even kissed her yet?
On a Tuesday in the middle of January, she wasn’t at the bank. Her immediate supervisor wouldn’t tell me anything, so after work, I found myself standing outside the door of her flat, knocking entirely too hard.
“Beel! How nice to see you!” She pulled me in for a hug, as was her custom lately. “You meesed me I ‘ope!”
“Uh, yeah. I just wanted to check to see how you were doing.” She took me by the hand and led me into the kitchen, sitting me down on one of the chairs. “Excuse moi, while I change into something more presentable.” For the first time since I’d known her, I noticed her clothes. At the moment, she was wearing a baggy pair of jeans and a midriff baring t-shirt. That was just fine with me.
“You don’t have to, you know. You look great,” I told her. The jeans sat below her navel and I saw for the first time that her belly button was pierced and she sported a ruby stud.
“Merci. I shall stay in zees, then. Coffee?” I nodded and watched as she expertly used the French press and then presented me with a cup of steaming coffee. “So, Beel. To what do I owe zees pleasure?” She tossed her long platinum hair over her shoulder and tilted her head to the side.
“Are you sick?”
“I was a bit under zee wezzer zees morning, but am much better now.” She stared at me and began twirling her hair around one of her fingers before scooting next to me and pressing her thigh against mine. I edged away from her, but she followed.
Our conversation was impersonal and punctuated with her blatant flirting. She tried caressing my back, playing with my hair, whispering so I would have to lean into her. At one point, her hand found its way to my knee and my response was to scream like a little girl, causing her to giggle at me. I found this all rather entertaining and amusing. She really shouldn’t have to try this hard, and couldn’t understand why she just wouldn’t come right out and say what she was thinking. But I knew that if I let it continue much longer, she’d really make an ass out of herself and embarrass us both.
“Fleur, you know you don’t have to flirt with me so much.” There it was out in the open. “You should know by now that Veelas don’t affect me.” At those words, she stood up from her chair, sending it clattering to the floor.
“Eez that all you sink of me? After all zees time, I’m nothing, Guillaume?” She took my coffee cup and threw it into the sink, shattering it in the process. “I don’t understand how you can be so cold after every zing we have been through. I thought you cared about me, Beel, but I suppose I am wrong, no?
My heart fell into the pit of my stomach at her words and I stood up and walked over to her as she stood against the worktop. “No, that’s not it at all, Fleur.” She looked away and I put my hand on her chin to bring her face back towards mine. Taking a step closer to her, I felt my body touch hers and the little bits of electricity began surging through me again.
I couldn’t help it. I leaned down and touched her lips with mine. Her lips were soft and supple and tasted faintly of coffee. I ran my tongue across her lips and then she opened her mouth to me, chasing and finally capturing my tongue with hers. She caressed mine gently, delicately, while my hands fell to her waist and stroked the smooth flesh of her torso. Fleur leaned in and deepened the kiss, taking control of me with her mouth. A silly thought entered my mind, and I laughed into her mouth.
“What eez so funny? Am I doing any zing wrong?”
“No, not at all. I just received my first real French kiss, that’s all.” She was smiling at me and, if I wasn’t mistaken, was glowing. Merlin she’s beautiful. “I think I’m falling in love with you, Fleur.”
“Of course you are.” With her hands in my hair, she pulled me down for another kiss that was, if possible, more passionate than the last. “Je t'aime, Monsieur Beel.”
“Je t'aime.”