Fleur gets homesick.
The Departure of Fleur
It is common knowledge that, in Egypt, there is a lot of sand, upon which beats down the harsh rays of the what is commonly known as the sun. The morning of August ninth was no exception to this meteorological phenomenon. It was as hot as it always was; the kind of heat that felt tangible, as if you could reach out and feel it dripping down your fingers like invisible goo. It was the kind of heat that usually rendered one's body exhausted and incapable of doing anything beyond rasing one's arm up so as to sip some cool liquid out of a shiny martini glass with a tiny umbrella sticking out of it.
However, the two inhabitants (a male and a female) of flat 435, located in the fashionable Amonhotep Apartment Complex, did not seem perturbed by the suffocating heat. On the contrary, it seemed to enhance whatever titillation they were feeling. Their breathing was heavy, although that wasn't an effect of the heat, but merely caused by a self-inflicted exertion. Their bodies were sweaty as well, but that wasn't caused by the heat of the sun, but more or less by the heat radiating off their own bodies.
These physical descriptions leads one to wonder exactly what kind of activity these two people were engaging in. A more perverted mind would assume something involving various sexual organs, while a much cleaner mind would habitually assume they were simply rearranging the furniture. In most cases, the latter would be the correct assumption. However, this is not most cases, and the earlier assumption seems to be the correct one, for they are, to put it simply, having sex.
"Bill," cried the female, Fleur Delacour, as she grasped his back with her left hand, her right one entangled in his ginger hair that was almost as long as her blond hair.
She hooked her leg around his, raising her hips higher. The muscles on Bill's body clenched and then relaxed in delicious release of certain bodily fluids (which were smartly stopped from enter Fleur's body by a handy contraceptive charm).
"Oh Bill," she said again in a crisp French accent. Her voice was deep with the ecstasy of sexual pleasure. She grabbed his head and kissed him long and hard on his mouth, as he smiled widely. "That was . . . ."
"Yeah," he agreed, resting his mouth on her neck.
"You know Bill," she continued, which was when he should have realized that something was wrong. Fleur wasn't exactly the type of person to want to talk after such amazing sex. As it were, he contended himself with kissing her breasts. "I really care for you . . . ."
He froze, his mouth on her nipple. Care? he though incredulously. Since when was he demoted to care? Just a few hours ago she had said she loved him, and now she cared? What kind of bullshit was that?
He sat up. "What's wrong?"
She smiled, running her fingers lightly over his chest. "Nothing's wrong, I just . . . ."
He grabbed her hands, preventing them from moving downward, and thus distracting him. "Something wrong. Now tell me."
She sighed, giving up all hope of distracting him. "I want to leave," she said.
"Leave? Like a holiday?"
She shook her head, her silky blond hair waving against her naked breasts. "I want to go back to France."
"Because I don't like it here!" she exclaimed, getting up from the bed. She grabbed her wand and waved it around. Her possessions threw themselves into a suitcase that was conveniently open and sitting in the corner.
"How long have you been planning this?" he asked, standing up.
She shrugged. "Not long . . .It's just . . . . I want to go home.
"So you're homesick? Is that it?" he asked, following her out into the small living room.
"Yes, Bill," she admitted.. "I'm homesick, and I'm going home." Her look softened as she stood in front of the door. "I love you. I really do, but . . . ."
Bill snorted. "Yeah . . . whatever."
"If you're ever in France, look me up, okay?"
She kissed him on his cheeks, her lips warm, and then she was gone.
Bill looked around his flat, wondering how something so life-changing could happen so quickly. One minute they were fucking like crazy, and then the next . . . She was gone.
Bill suddenly felt like taking a holiday too . . . .
A/N: Please review