Name: atkarid
House: Hufflepuff!
Title: Who am I?
Character: Gabrielle Delacour
Word Count: 422
Warnings: None
Inspiration: Well, i was always wondering on the relationship of Fleur and Gabrielle. I imagined how it would be like to live with an older sister who was almost perfect.

What does she have that I don’t?

Beauty, grace, elegance, an air that puts her above everybody else…

Who am I?

Just her sister. Just the younger sister of Fleur Delacour.

Am I ever Gabrielle Delacour? Is she ever referred to as the sister of Gabrielle Delacour? Am I somebody other than her sister?

I’ve been compared to her ever since I was born:

”Gabrielle, your hair is in your face again. Brush your hair neatly. Fleur never had any hair in her face, and look how pretty she is.”

“Gabrielle! You’ve grown so tall! You remind me of your sister at your age, except, of course, she was exceptionally pretty.”

“Gabrielle, why don’t you do something productive around the house, instead of banging on that old piano? Fleur was always helpful.”

“Miss Delacour, your work is not pleasing. You were supposed to levitate this quill, not change its color. I thought the Delacours were smart. Your sister, Fleur, got it on her first try.”

“Wow! You’re Fleur Delacour’s sister? She’s so pretty, and you look, well, different.”


I’ve never been treated as an individual. Just Fleur Delacour’s sister. Nothing else.

I escape this world by going to my piano. My piano, for Fleur never touched it, and it has belonged to me since I was very little. I would hit a few keys, and slowly I learned how to read and play music. It’s been the only reason why I’m not dead and lying in my room, wishing for the insanity to stop.

I can escape with music. It takes me to realms where I am free and can explore my own creativity. It’s where I can be myself and have no other distractions. It’s where I can be free, be away from the world where Fleur Delacour is queen.

It’s the only thing in which I cannot be compared to her for she has never even touched a piano in her life. Music and the piano are mine, and I live off them.

Although the piano is my escape, the house is too. She clings onto me (more of she glues me onto her) outside of the house, but inside, she stays far away. It’s probably just to draw more attention to her when we’re with others.

And, unfortunately, it works.

So I’m just a little girl, covered by Fleur Delacour’s shadow. A girl whose name is “Fleur Delacour’s little sister”. A girl who escapes with music and her piano. A girl who is nothing.

A girl who is jealous.