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“I can’t do this. I give up!” This was an abhorrent idea. She dropped the wooden spoon down on the counter with a light thud.
I don’t know why I thought this would work. I just couldn’t do it. Fleur thought to herself.
“Don’t be silly Fleur, of course you can. Let’s just take a step away for a second and plan what we need to do next.”
No. She couldn’t. She’d never liked the food here. It was all so heavy and dense, and it was so often tasteless mush. She knew Molly Weasley resented her for many things, but over the years they had come to a middle ground and an understanding on most things. There had always been one thing that they could never see eye to eye on. British food. British food, and Bill Weasley's diet.
Her mother-in-law had never been happy with the food Fleur cooked for them on the evenings she cooked tea, so she had cooked less and less over the years. Sick and tired of the comments made by the red headed matriarch, she slowly stopped cooking so much, and Bill started taking over in the kitchen more and more. She still cooked something for them every so often, but never made a comment of it in the Burrow.
But she had wanted to do this. Not for her mother-in-law, but for her husband. It was Bill Weasley’s birthday and she wanted to cook him his favourite foods. But she just didn’t know how to do it.
“No. It is horrible. I’ll never be able to do it the way he likes!” She could feel tears pricking in the corners of her eyes. This was ridiculous, she shouldn’t be getting this upset about this.
“Ohh come on love. You can do it, you’ve been practising this for months and you’ve been getting better and better. Now, I understand you didn’t want to ask Mum for help, but she is the one who has the family recipes. So, I think, given the circumstances, we’ve done a bloody good job of getting them as close as we have!” The broad, red headed man walked towards her from where he had been mixing the batter for the desert. He stood square in front of her, and placed his calloused hands on either shoulder. “Come on now, the Fleur I know would not be beaten by a roast beef dinner.” He grinned cheekily at her.
She let out a light laugh all in one puff of air, smiling up at him with watery eyes. “You’re right” she sighed, but physically shook herself.
“There you go.” He smiled down at her, running his hands up and down her arms in a comforting way. “Come on, he’ll be home in about an hour, and you still need to change.”
Charlie Weasley gave her a quick squeeze of the shoulders before releasing her and making his way back to the other side of the table to finish making the sticky toffee pudding.
She took a deep breath, to calm the last of her nerves and turned back to the oven and hob, where she was working on making mashed potato (why the British loved these she would never understand), frying brussel sprouts and making a gravy.
Her friendship with the second oldest Weasley brother had taken everyone by surprise. The rest of the family couldn’t see what the petite French woman and the rough, broad dragon tamer had in common. But their opinions about politics, art, creature rights and ‘the family’ were all things they had bonded over. Bill had introduced them the summer she had moved to Britain, eager for her and his self-confessed favourite brother to meet; Charlie had recently quietly relocated to the UK from Romania. It wasn’t common knowledge as he still travelled the continent for The Order working on garnering support in the upcoming war. Charlie had moved in with Bill on returning to the UK, not wanting to draw attention to his presence, so while Bill was at work, or on Order business, the unlikely pair had talked for hours and become firm friends.
Now, years after the war, Charlie Weasley was one of Fleur's favourite people to spend time with. He continued to surprise her with his kindness and never failed to make her laugh. So when she had decided on this ludicrous plan to surprise her husband with an evening of his favourite home cooked foods, she could think of no one better to help teach her how to do it than Charlie Weasley.
“Right my dear, the mix for the pudding is done, I’ll pop it in the oven for you, and then shall I lay the table? Save you a job?” he skirted around her, to place the deep dish in the oven.
“That would be wonderful if you could. I think these potatoes are as “smooth and lumpy” as they are going to get.” She muttered in resignation.
Peering over her shoulder into the pot of mashed potatoes, he quickly swiped a finger up the spoon and tasted it. “Gods Fleur, these are brilliant! You’ve really got the hang of the consistency Mum makes!” He congratulated her by giving her a half hug.
“I will never understand the British. These are by far some of the worst potatoes. But I know how much Bill loves them. Maybe you’re all a bit mad.” she laughed her true laugh, and it filled the kitchen.
She could do this.
Fifteen minutes later, the table was laid with plates, linens and candles. Charlie kissed her cheek goodbye, and transferred the oven timer from his wand to hers. “He’ll love it Fleur. Stop worrying”. And with that, he flooed back to his apartment.
She quickly rushed to the bedroom, noting that Bill should be home in about 10 minutes. Changing into a simple green dress and pulling half of her hair up into a braid, she got ready for what she hoped would be a wonderful evening.
Making her way to the kitchen, to check on the bubbling gravy, she heard the whoosh of the floo from the living room.
“Hi Love, I’m home!” Called the butter smooth voice of Bill Weasley. “Wow, something smells incredible!” His head appeared around the door to the kitchen.
“Bon anniversaire mon cher!” she smiled as she made her way over to him to wrap him in a hug. He tilted her head up to kiss her as she reached him, his lips rough on hers.
“Mmm” he moaned softly as he pulled away from her. “So what’s going on here?” He asked, looking around.
“We are having dinner for your birthday. No other family, just you and me” she said simply. Running her hands down her dress anxiously, she realised suddenly he may have wanted to celebrate with his family. “I hope that’s okay” she followed up quickly. “I’ve, umm, made your favourites. Roast beef, with all of the extra bits, and then sticky toffee pudding for dessert.”
“This” he looked around the small kitchen, “is perfect” he replied, And with that he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulled him flush to his chest, and kissed her deeply again.