Falling For

I was scheduled to see Fleur on a Friday, sometime late March in 1998. She was going to let me take measurements for a dress she wanted made, which was fine with me because all I had to do was look for things to do around the already perfect house. Since the world had basically stopped working, as You-Know-Who had gotten stronger, things were beginning to tighten – like trips to the store or a pint of beer at the pub… they no longer existed. Only the dark wizards dared to venture away from their front door. And because of those dark wizards, Fleur was beginning to feel unfashionable in her own home.

But she never turned up. Three hours after her original planned time of arrival, I began to get worried. Nothing ever stopped Fleur from coming to visit. She loved Bill and all but there was nothing too bad about a little bit of girl time. Noël was away at work once again and I was home alone. I knew George would not be over today – he had told me that on Wednesday. He was busy, with some sort of Potterwatch thing, I assume. I could never keep tabs on that man since we’d moved apart.

Pacing around my room, I took a small chance and decided to apparate to the Shell Cottage. I had not felt so good about apparating since the fingers incident, and I knew that I was putting myself in a small bout of danger, but I figured that something bad could be going on right under my nose, and if I didn’t do anything it would have stuck with me forever.

Deep breaths were taken and I crossed my fingers, thinking of the sweet cold bench tops, the salty air and the grey clouds that swam the skies.

I appeared in Fleur’s kitchen, stumbling into the edge of a counter and scuffing my shoes on the lovely floor. Bill, who was sitting at the table reading the paper, shot up and pointed his wand at me.

“What did you get us for Christmas this year?”

“Uh, oh.. um… Merlin, Bill! You’re putting me off with that wand in my face!” I sputtered all over his pressed shirt. His eyes evened. “Okay, ah! Fairy lights and champagne! Now, I’m guessing everything is okay because you’re here and that means great things.”

“… Why would anything be wrong, Mignon?” Bill’s brows furrowed into one luxuriously long furry caterpillar. I looked at my feet and wrung my hands, feeling suddenly very, very stupid.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to jump out at you its just that Fleur and I were supposed to, uh, get together today. But she never turned up and I assumed the worst… you know?”

“Oh…” His wand lowered and he turned his head to the hallway. “Fleur, Mignon is here!”

There was a tired ‘oh, yes!’ from one of the rooms and I winced. Oh, how stupid I felt. It wasn’t polite of me to just appear in someone’s kitchen. Fleur’s blonde head appeared around the wall. Her eyes graced mine and they brightened.

“One moment, Mignon.” She excused herself and I cringed.

“I’m so sorry for bothering you.” I looked at Bill and he simply smiled.

“It’s okay, we know you meant well. We appreciate that you look out for us.” He pulled up a chair. “Tea? Coffee? Drink at all?”

“Tea would be lovely, thank you.” I took the seat and pulled myself up to the table. I watched out the window, the clouds sitting low over the water. The wind was blowing the sea reeds back and forth, as if dancing with them in attempt to brighten the already harsh weather. “So how has life been treating you?”

“So-so, as usual. It’s a simple life out here. No neighbours, no noise. Just the beach.” Bill hummed a tune, not too comfortable with the subject. I picked up that fact when he turned and said to me: “Don’t listen to my brothers, Mignon. You have to understand that they always prep the important women in their life with the disclaimer. They do it to mum every time they know they’re going to get in trouble.”

“I find it unsettling that they ‘know’ that they’re going to die.” I took the tea off of him. “Wait, how do you know this?”

“My lovely wife told me. There she is, my lovely wife!” He patted her on the lower back, handed her a mug and breezed off down the hall. I blinked and looked at the French nymph.

“Hello Mignon,” she bowed to kiss each cheek. “Sorry for telling Bill. I found it puzzling why they would say such things. I know it upset you.” She took a sip of her tea and sat down beside me. “I am also sorry that I missed our meeting. I should have stopped by and said something. Truth is, we’ve come about some guests and I have had to tend to them.”

“Oh? No, that’s okay. I understand completely. I was just worried, is all. I didn’t want anything to have happened and me have just sat there and looked stupid.”

“Oh, no! You are not stupid, Mignon. It is very sweet of you to check on us. It just is that now is not the best time to be here.”

“That is completely understandable.” I took one last sip of my tea. “I’ll go then. I have laundry to do which is such a pain but someone has to do it and it won’t be Noël.” I stood up and kissed her cheeks. “Please stop by whenever you feel like it though. I’m always available.”

“Thank you for understanding.” She smiled at me and I sucked myself back to my bedroom. The wind was taken out of my lungs so I sat on my bed and felt incredibly lonely.

I should not have felt so bad about myself. It was very selfish of me to assume that Fleur, of all people, was avoiding me. I did not know that at that moment in time I was sharing the house with the Golden Trio, my wand maker and a goblin. It probably would have spun me out more than anything. In the end I understood that it was for my own safety but at the time I felt terrible.

My problems would have been considered first world but I had this ache in my heart that was gaping wider as time rolled on. It was like everyone was drifting away from me and I could do nothing but watch the ones I loved get thrown deeper into this scary mass of dark magic.

Throwing myself back onto the plush blankets, I cuddled my face into the smell of George’s lingering scent. I missed him so much, but some days it was like I forgot what it felt like to touch him. I would sometimes stare at Noël during dinner, wondering what would happen if our feet bumped under the table. I often mentally scolded myself for what I was thinking. Nothing good could come from wandering eyes, even if it just was from loneliness. I just wished with every part of me that I could be with George, and not Noël.




The times George did stop around were a bit more awkward than usual. It was like his little stop into my kitchen with his brother had formed this unusually tall wall separating me from him and his brother. I was on the outer again, like I had been all those years ago. The twin that I was involved with, however, didn’t like to spend more than two hours with me. It was like he was burrowing back into the old life of home with the family.

I was fine with that, sure, but as each day continued on, his visits grew shorter and I was beginning to feel terrible. Did I say something wrong to him? Or was I just not the girl he had fallen in love with? I know I had lost my childlike features – my once large eyes had sunken into my head in my effort to stop thinking so much. Instead in just lay in bed and stared at the ceiling.

It was quite redundant.

A crack sounded in my kitchen and I jumped, throwing myself up off the couch to catch a glimpse of my boyfriend wandering towards me.

“Hey sweetheart! Wasn’t expecting you today!”

“I know, I’m sorry.” He apologised, holding out a small bunch of garden flowers. My cheeks tinted and I took them from him, leaning up to kiss his lips. He turned away and I flinched back down to my spot.

“I forget how much I really miss you until I see your face. I’m totally overwhelmed with emotions right now.” I blushed and he stepped back.

“Hey I said I was sorry. No need for the sarcasm.” He sniffed. I stepped back also, the flowers dropping to my thighs.

“No sarcasm, I’ve just missed you..?” my eyes evened “What’s with the attitude, boy? This is the ‘hello’ I get?” I ribbed him and his mood did not shift. He just looked as annoyed as he did before.

“Well I’m sorry I’ve been busy.”

“Ah, what’s wrong?” I sniffled and he just looked down at me.

“Everything’s a little too much lately. I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“Oh, okay…”

“Don’t be mad at me. I’m sorry I’m just not in the mood.”

“Then why did you even come here?” I snapped, my heart suddenly aching. “So you could make me feel bad?”

“No! Well, no, of course I didn’t!”

“Well then what are you even doing?”

“Well I was coming to see my girlfriend but if you’re going to be like this I don’t suppose I’ll stay!”

“What the heck is going on, George? Why are you even mad, I don’t know what I’ve done to do this to you!”

“You haven’t done anything!”

The moment had shifted my mood into something that I usually wasn’t. My eyes had evened into slits and I was shaking. I didn’t even know what I was saying, and I’m sure he didn’t either.

“Then why are we arguing?!”

“I don’t fucking know, Mignon. Just calm down!”

“I am fucking calm, don’t you even swear at me!”

“Don’t swear at me, then!”

“You’re a child!”

“No, Mignon, I am the one here who is out every day worrying about our future and our family. What do you do all day? Sit at home and play homemaker for some strange man that I don’t even know? You’re the child here, Mignon. It’s like you’re so fucking oblivious about what’s happening around you! Don’t you ever call me a chi-“

The sentence was cut short by the sharp crack of my hand against his face.

“Don’t you ever speak to me like that again.” I lowered my hand. “Don’t you ever, ever have the audacity to use those words against me. Do you honestly think I sit here and ponder about what I’m going to cook for dinner? Really? You think I’m that vapid and naïve?”

He reached up and touched his cheek. The tears that had welled up in my eyes began to slide down my face. I’m sure that the wet snails made me look even more tired than I already was. You don’t realise how much weight you’ve lost until you feel the tears take a very steep dip down your cheek. When did I ever have such prominent cheekbones?

George must have noticed this. His hands, which were still big and rough, took hold of my biceps and held me in place. I wriggled out of his grasp.

“Don’t you ever accuse me of not caring – of not worrying about you! I love you, you stupid, stupid man and all you can honestly think is that I sit around all day and bake cakes and live like a happy muggle wife. I don’t even want to be here, George! I don’t even want to be in this house!” I shrieked at him. He had unleashed the sobbing little girl inside of me. “You think it’s easy for me to stay in this powder box and lay in bed at night and think to myself w-w-why I c-c-can’t even see my b-b-boyfriend! Why I can’t even see my f-f-friends~!”

His fingers slipped against my cheek to wipe away a tear.

“Don’t even touch me, George Weasley! D-don’t even fucking touch me!” I pushed him away.

“Stop it! Stop it for fuck’s sake, Mignon, just stop it!”

“Stop what?” I whined at him. “Stop talking about my feelings? Heaven forbid I feel anything other than complete content because that’s all I do right? Sit around at home and ponder the answers to my crossword book? Sounds like me, completely.”

“Stop making me feel like such an arsehole!”

“Because that’s what I’m setting out to do, is it? Not everything is about you, you know? You’re not the only one on this stupid freaking planet!”

“You don’t think I know that? I spend every day worrying about what you’re doing!”

“Then why don’t you even have time to see me every day? Why don’t you make the effort to stay for more than two hours?”

“Because…”

“Because what?!”

“Because if I turn up dead, Mignon, it will hurt less because you will be used to not seeing me.”

The silence was deafening. His cheek was bright red and my face was wet from tears. We were both shaking.

“That’s… that’s what you’ve been thinking? That not seeing you will make me miss you less if you die? If anything it would have driven me insane – knowing that the last few months I spent with you were nothing but dribs and drabs. If you think you’re going to die, if you’re completely sure, you will see me every day. You will see me as much as you can, we will spend as much time as possible…. At least let me be happy with my memories of you than have none at all.”

“I’m sorry, Mignon.”

“You are so stupid.”

“I’m so sorry.”

I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around his skinny waist. He stiffened for a moment, not knowing what to do… but his arms found their way around my back and his face buried in my hair. I felt the tears from his nose fall softly into my hair. My chest ached as I sobbed into his rough shirt. My fingers ran up his chest and into his hair and he took my face and kissed me right on the lips. I held him close to me and he picked me up, holding me to his body as he lay me down on my bed.

He made the sweetest love to me that night. I had never felt so alive and so real in that moment. He stroked my hair and told me that I was beautiful, and if he could relive any moment forever he would have chosen that one. I felt the same way.

But I knew that deep down he was still scared. I could tell by the way he looked at me when he thought I wasn’t watching… the way he pushed his fingers through my hair and kissed butterflies all over my chest. His cheek felt so soft against the space between my breasts. He could hear my heart beat and I could feel his sweet breath tickling my sensitive skin.

The tears slipped down my temples and I shut my eyes, trying to hold on to the moment as long as I could before I knew I had to get up and see him leave me.