Fleur Weasley

( Fleur Weasley )

Fleur breathed deeply, enjoying the salty smell of the warm air as it washed over her, blowing her hair back from her face. Unlike summers at home in Nice, it was too cool here to swim, but it was impossible to not enjoy herself. The sand was not as white, and the water not quite so blue, but the sky was miraculously clear--not like the dreary grey they'd left behind in London--and everything felt fresh and clean. It was as if no one else existed in the world at that moment, even though she knew the public beach just around the bend was crowded with people.

( It's perfect. )

Working at Gringotts was challenging. Fleur had known it would be, because of both the work itself and her only basic grasp of the language, but she hadn't been entirely prepared for the reality of it. The goblins were fine, managing the smaller vaults was easy, her work hours and pay were reasonable--even the English weather was tolerable enough. It was the witches who gave her problems.

( It wasn't the first time she'd encountered the jealous condescension of women who were not nearly as smart or beautiful as she was. )