Monday, June 19th - 9:30 AM
Back. She was going back. The thought continued to run itself through her mind as the images of a forgotten life played across her mind. Her long slender legs were delicately crossed over one another as she stared out the nearby window; a foreign look plastered acrossed her face and her eyes devoid of any emotion.
She had only just returned from the Secretary's office where he had given her the news. Alexandre Phillipon was a good head of department, he ran his department with a strict modicum of organization, had very little tolerance for failure and inaptitude, and knew his employees well, which was why when he had explained to Fleur why she had been chosen for promotion; she had not been quite unable to refuse the promotion. But now, now that she sat at her desk and imagined returning to England; she was stunned.
Around the office her colleagues were moving, congratulating her, and already planning a farewell party. The most shocking part of all was that she was to be in her new London office by Friday. Tomorrow, Tuesday, would be her last day in the French ministry offices. By next week she would be fully immersed in life as an ambassador for the French.
A loud pop suddenly snapped her back into reality. Fleur, not sure if the sound had been her heart exploding from rapidly fluttering suddenly looked down in shock. Her heart was beating wildly with excitment and fear. England. Could she really be going back? All these years later? And though she tried not to she couldn't help but think of Bill. Why? When all of these years she had spent avoiding thoughts of him, and the familiar ache and pull of her heart she felt when he was mentioned in her sister's letters.
Across the room a man in his thirties was beginning to toast her, and the pop she had heard had not been the explosion of her heart, but the opening of a champagne bottle. Tearing her gaze away from the window she turned to face her colleagues. She smiled softly and stood, accepting the well-wishes with a modicum of grace coupled with class and elegance. All virtues Fleur was never without.
It was all like a blur, the news still setting in, realizations of what was to come still sending shockwaves through her mind. Though the atmosphere of the office was light and gay, the voices melted into a dull roar against her ears. And though she appreciated all of the pomp and circumstance she wanted nothing more than to return to her small office, which was no more than a cubicle really, and make sense of everything that was happening, and, would, happen to her.
After about fifteen minutes Fleur did finally get her moment of peace and quiet. Quickly taking advantage of the opportunity and dodging the last few merry-makers she headed straight to her desk. It had occured to her that she had roughly three days to find a place in England, get moved, and be ready for work Friday. She quickly penned an owl to her mother, explaining the promotion, and sudden need to move. Attaching it to the leg of a waiting office owl she quickly explained where her mother could be found. She knew she need not worry about the actual packing as she was sure her mother would have the entire army of house elves on the task upon receipt of Fleur's missive.
Now she sat, staring, at the blank paper, a long white-feathered quill in hand, and again she stared out the far window. This letter was far harder to write, and yet, she wondered if it even needed written. Would he even care that she was returning? She knew from Gabrielle that Bill was doing well, was alive, but otherwise heard nothing from her former fiance. Had he found someone else since she left? Gabrielle never mentioned.
A soft sigh escaped her lips as she set the quill to the paper, the soft scratching against the parchment was the only sound she heard. Unless you counted the various voices in her head. Four letters were elegantly sprawled acrossed the top, "Bill". And then, she followed a few lines below - "I am returning to England". She shook her head and frowned; scratching out the sentence and tossing the paper into the bin.
She started a few more, all which sounded decidedly alike. "Pathétique." She muttered softly in French, and set the quill aside. Deciding she would tell no one she was returning, not even Gabrielle, atleast, not yet.
A few minutes were lost to Fleur's erratic and overwhelming thoughts before she turned to pick up the copy of the Daily Prophet that was included in the papers that were delivered to her desk daily. Purposefully she flipped through the paper to the classified section to begin hunting a flat.
She didn't have time to be picky, and, so, she dashed off a few generic letters to be delivered to various solicitors owning properties around the Hogsmeade area, and tying them onto the legs of various office owls went back to the reports that lie in front of her.
A copy of Fleur's letter to solicitors~
To whom it may concern,
Bonjour! My name is Fleur Delacour and I am soon to be moving to the Hogsmeade area, and, by soon I mean Wednesday. I am currently seeking a suitable flat, preferably with two bedrooms, and a decent sized living space, and all necessary commodities.
I will need something available immediately, as I am relocating within the week. If you would please write back by return owl, with the prices and layouts of any flats currently available it would be greatly appreciated.