Fleur la Belle Chapter 1, a harry potter fanfic

Fleur le Bella

AN: I am hoping that someone will help me translate this into French. For now, use your imagination (except in the very few places where there are a few snide bits of French…), because my French is atrocious! If you want to help me translate this, please, tell me in your review. Yes, I want reviews! (surprise, surprise!) It would be more true to Fleur's character. But, for now, here's the best I can do!

According to my French teacher, Mere is French for Mother (can anyone tell me how to get accent marks over letters?) and Fleur's middle name I thought was cute (Oisillon) because it meant "little bird." 'Mademoiselle France' is supposed to mean "Miss France"

And "Le Adorable Petite Sorciere" is supposed to mean the cute small witch. And, of course, Fleur le Bella means "Fleur the Beautiful" Only proper nouns will be French. Correct me on anything if I'm wrong. I need help with this one!

If you see anything in bold it would remain english in translation.

Summary:

Some people would kill for beauty. She would kill to get rid of it. A story about Fleur Delacour.

"She's been behaving a lot better, the past few months." Said the one doctor, looking in through the small window to where the girl sat, painting a picture of a forest with the watercolor paints her little sister had sent her through "censored" post.

"She never was bad," Observed the woman doctor, "She's always been very sweet."

"Why hasn't anyone fixed her yet?"

"She did something to it, so it won't wear off. We're still trying to figure out a counter course."

"That's such a shame. I heard she won 'Mademoiselle France'."

"Is that right?"

"You bet. You should've seen pictures of her. She was almost the most beautiful girl I've ever seen!"

A picture of her had come with her record, when she had been handed into St. Mungo's a year or so ago. Time didn't really pass her, Fleur observed. Yes, the sun set and rose, but everything seemed to be frozen.

For some reason, she liked it that way. No danger…she could just sit in her room with padded walls, and commit her life to nothingness.

Things didn't used to be so intricately simple…no, she used to live in a world much different from the white she was swimming in now. It was decorated with so many colors, you had to squint to see things clearly, and they always clashed and seemed to crash down into your eyes…no, things like that were never simple.

She tried not to remember…but sometimes…it came back.

"Fleur!" Her mother shrieked from the other room, and she sighed, latching her eyes away from the mirror, where she was making sure she was putting on lipstick correctly.

Her mother stood in the doorway, and Fleur observed her (something everyone seemed to be drawn to do…) her mother's delicate frame, fair, clear face, and long white blond hair, Fleur was convinced she didn't look older than twenty five. Although she was well past fourty.

"Fleur Oisillon!" Her mother gave her the up and down look, and her eyes absorbed something she obviously did not approve of, for her rare, pretty face went sour, so sour, Fleur swore she could smell happiness rotting, "I can't believe the pageant is today. Look at you!" She came over to Fleur to fuss, "You're not ready. You look like something I'd feed to the dogs."

Fleur always managed to seem incredibly happy with herself in public. She'd flounce around, smiling a smile that made the boys melt down to the floor, and the girls turn ripe green with bitter envy. She'd keep a somewhat snotty composure, to make it look like she was confident.

But no matter how confident she pretended to be, her mother smashed her act into a thousand pieces.

She always told Fleur she wasn't good enough. No matter how many times she felt the cold metal of a cheap crown messing up her perfected hair, how many pageants she won, it seemed like her mother would never be happy, like she was permanently rotted.

Isn't that what she wanted? She's been entering me in them since I was a small child…Le Adorable Petite Sorciere, was that the first one? I always won. So why wasn't Mommy happy?

"Haven't you been on a low carbohydrate diet, Fleur?" Her mother eyed Fleur's reflection critically.

She gulped, "Yes, Mere."

Her mother gave a sniff of contempt, "It doesn't show, now does it? You should probably try running more. Your stomach pokes out of your dress, don't you agree?"

She had lost that pageant. Her mother had been so angry, she had been only allowed to drink water and eat Low fat yogurt for nearly a week.

She didn't understand why her mother concentrated so much on torturing her. It was like she was out to make her life miserable, because hers was…

She tried to sympathize with her mother sometimes. She'd been bitter like a lemon ever since Fleur's father had left. He had only stuck with them for a little while, and even when he was there, he wasn't really. He was working on papers, or reading papers, very involved with the ministry. He worked "late nights" and went to dinner a lot with "colleagues" It didn't take a genius to figure out what was going on.

The affair was revealed a little while before Gabrielle was born. He thought there was someone more beautiful than mother? This had never happened to her before…They argued and argued, but she could not convince him to stay. Mother had always been seen as some kind of goddess in the eyes of men. She could always get what she wanted, because she seemed to be on some other level, above other women. She wasn't used to someone not wanting her! It was unthinkable for the only man she'd ever truly loved and lusted after, did not want her just as much, even more.

So, she didn't think about it. She didn't want to believe she wasn't good enough. So she concentrated on Fleur, on her imperfections, her problems, wanted to make it so she'd always be wanted! She lived her life through the small, frail body of her ten year old daughter.

Fleur didn't understand this until her therapist convinced her it must be true, she had always wanted escape the grasp of her mother.

But had she? When her mother went away, could she live her own life? Or would she just be a limp, lifeless body?

Fleur felt herself jump when she for a second when she thought she spotted herself walking outside. But, no, she did not look like that anymore. It was Gabrielle. She was waving, and smiling.

She waved back, she smiled back. Well, not really smiled, she wasn't really capable of that these days.

A nurse with a crinkled, kind face let her into Fleur's room, and her sister rushed over to where she sat on the bed, embracing her so tightly, Fleur thought she might fall to pieces when she let go.

"Oh, I've missed you so much, you don't understand!" She beamed, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"So, how's living with Rachel and Peter?" She asked stiffly, flatly, and Gabrielle darted her eyes away from Fleur.

"It's good, I suppose. My English is better, I suppose. London is great; they have so many places to go. I've made lots of friends, and Peter and Rachel make sure I get everything that I need."

"English, huh?" Fleur laughed, "What can you say?"

"All sorts of things."

"Let's hear."

Gabrielle shook her head, exasperated, but said, "Ze rabbit is fuzzy. Umm…" She paused, placing her finger to her chin, "Do you tink zis 'at is ugly? Two coffees, if you please."

Fleur clapped, laughing, "More than I knew at fourteen."

"Well, I do know more. But, you know. There are lots of people who speak French in London. Everyone's surprised I do not speak English fluently! Most children from France are taught English in school, most of the time along with Dutch or German."

"Ah, but Mere home schooled us." Fleur tried to smile, but her lips just quivered. "Mere was stubborn about us and French.

Gabrielle nodded, her throat closing up at the mention of their mother. She had died when Gabrielle was ten, and Fleur nineteen. Fleur's mother hadn't been sweet or kind or caring, but she had been their mother, and although she had definitely not been the best mother, they still missed her.

"Sorry, didn't mean to bring her up." Fleur said quietly, and Gabrielle brushed a bit of silverfish hair out of her face, shaking her head.

"No, it does not matter…Tell me, how do they treat you here?"

"Well, like a baby, of course. I am a loon, remember?" Fleur gave an awkward laugh, but Gabrielle barely smiled.

"Don't say that. You're not crazy Fleur."

"Well I'm not sane."

"It was an accident!"

Fleur narrowed her eyes darkly at her little sister.

"Above all other things, little sister, it was not an accident. Not an accident at all."

Please, tell me what you think! I'd like to know. I see another dark, depressing fic coming on…dun dun dun! I'll make sure to update soon. I await your response : )

Disclaimer: Almost forgot to tell you, I'm not J.K. Rowling, so I own absolutely nothing I'm writing about (well, the thigns you recognize.) All right, go review!