House: Gryffindor
Position: Prefect 2
Category: Themed
Prompt: [Prompt] delicate hands
Word Count: 2552 – excludes header, title, and A/N
Beta: Tigger and CK
A/N: This was written for The Houses Competition, Y2R9. There are some misspellings in the story. This was a choice to help convey Fleur's accent.
Loving You Could Never be Dangerous
Bill looked down at their intertwined fingers and almost forgot how to breath. He couldn't believe that he was here now with this amazing woman. Her soft, delicate hands fit perfectly in his much larger, rougher hands.
The moon's rays shone directly on her, making her golden hair seem silver in the night. Her beautiful face was glowing and her eyes were bright and shining. She looked like an angel.
He dragged her along the pathway and her melodical laughter warmed his heart. Her soft footsteps reminded him of the fairy tales he had been told as a child. A beautiful wood nymph helping guide a man through the dark woods. She wasn't able to be seen because the darkness surrounding her overpowered her light, but she laughed and sang her way through the woods, beckoning to him with every step she took and leading him to safety. Once they were finally free of the dark wood's grasp, she could be seen and he instantly fell in love. Not only from her beauty but because of her goodness.
Bill liked to pretend that this was a different world sometimes. A fairytale where he and Fleur could be whisked away to a different world. Fleur certainly looked like a princess with her long blonde hair, her delicate features, and the grace that she carried herself with, but he was certainly no prince, and they were certainly not in a fairytale. They were in the middle of a war.
Their romance had been a whirlwind. He had met her at the Ministry. Well, actually he had quite literally bumped into her. He had been visiting his father. He had needed to brief him about a new predicament in the Order, so he had rushed into the lobby, a man on a mission, and completely collided with her. He had knocked her to the ground, her purse had been kicked across the room, its contents spilled across the floor, and she was flat on her back and glaring straight up at him. He had been so embarrassed that he had immediately offered to take her out to lunch to make up for it. She had accepted and they had been inseparable since.
They had only been dating a year but Bill knew that he wanted to be with her forever. His soul knew that he would never be able to find another person that completed him like she did, and with the war closing in around them, he wanted to make sure that if he didn't get forever, he at least got her now.
They finally reached the edge of the woods and entered a large field. She dropped his hands and gazed up at the night sky, twirling and laughing at the stars. This was her favorite spot. It wasn't far from the Burrow but it was a place that only they knew about. A place that they could escape to away from all the hustle and bustle at the Burrow and just be alone, together.
She had loved this spot because it was quiet and peaceful and they could see the stars. She always told him that stars reminded her of home. He had urged her to go back home—he would rather lose her then have her tangled up in this war—but she had refused. She loved him and refused to leave him. She also felt like she owed Harry a life debt for saving her sister, Gabriella, in the Triwizard Tournament. He had finally stopped asking her to go back home since the last time he had brought it up she had refused to talk to him for a week. It was the most miserable week in his life; that was when he knew that he couldn't live without her.
Now, here he was, watching as she danced in the meadow, waiting for her to turn her attention back to him so he could ask her to be his forever.
She ran up to him and threw her arms around his neck, laughing.
"Dank you. How did ze know dat I needed dis?" she asked, smiling up at him.
"It was selfish of me really," Bill said, slinking out of her embrace, "to bring you here. It wasn't for your enjoyment, although, I do adore how happy you get here, but it was to ask you something."
All of the previous joy that had been dancing across her face had vanished. He laughed at her puzzled expression and quickly dropped to his knee.
"Don't worry; it's nothing to worry about… I hope." He grinned and winked at her.
He grabbed for her small hand and began to trace circles on her palm. His calluses were rough against her smooth hand. He gently bent down and kissed her palm.
"Fleur, I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you please do me the honor of becoming my wife?''
"Yez!" she cried, flinging her arms around him once again.
He stood, grinning, and swung her around, kissing her face, before he stopped and fished around in his inner coat pocket. He pulled out a box and drew her left hand from around his neck and placed the small, golden band on her finger. It was woven to look like vines and he knew it would be perfect for her. It was delicate, feminine, and beautiful, just like her.
She looked down at the newly adorned ring and then back up at him, a wide smile on her face. She threw her arms around him again and began to kiss him fiercely.
Bill felt like his face and shoulder were on fire. He lifted his right hand to his cheek and could feel the gaping holes in his face. He pulled back his hand, now coated with blood, and tried to look around him. There were debris and bodies everywhere. Bill could hear painful moans surrounding him and tried to get himself to his feet.
He tried to prop himself up on his elbow and instantly felt throbbing pain in his left shoulder. He began to feel light headed and fell back onto the stone floor. His head was throbbing now and the room was becoming darker and hazier. He could hear distant voices calling his name and then it all went black.
When he woke up he was propped in his childhood bed, stiff and hot. He blinked his eyes, adjusting to the light, and saw his mother crouched over the bed, changing a bandage on his leg. Her eyes quickly darted to his face as he tried to shift. He let out a gravelly moan and his mother rushed to bring a goblet to his lips.
"Shhh… Shhh… It's okay." Tears began to flow from her eyes. "We were all so worried about you. We didn't know if—when," she corrected, "you would wake up."
Bill put a hand to his cheek and felt the hard ridges of the partially healed wound, and he inhaled sharply.
"What happened?"
"You mean you don't remember, dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked quietly. He shook his head no and then winced at the movement. "Well, that's probably better this way. You… you were attacked… by… Fenrir."
He stared at her wide-eyed, his face draining of color.
"It's okay, dear, you weren't bitten, but well… we didn't know how the scratches would affect you."
He felt for his cheek again. So he had been torn up by Greyback? He didn't remember the attack, but he did remember the pain.
"Where is Fleur?" he choked out, already dreading the answer.
He could only imagine what she had thought when she saw him. Hopefully, she had taken one look at him and fled the country. It would be better that way. He didn't know what he was capable of anymore, and it looked like no one else did, either.
"Oh, she has been here for the last week, waiting for you to recover. We didn't want her to be in here alone, since… well… we just wanted to make sure someone was here to look out for you both."
"You mean, you needed someone to protect her from me."
Molly winced. "No, not at all, dear. I'll go and get her for you." She rushed out of the room.
Bill slowly sat up on the bed. He felt the tautness of his skin and winced at the pain. Fenrir had certainly done some damage; it felt like his whole left side was on fire. His eyes watered as he tried to bend his knee, but he couldn't.
Maybe his mother was right to be cautious of him. He certainly felt like a monster, a scarred beast; who knew what he would be capable of once he was healed?
His ears perked up as he recognized the soft thud of Fleur's feet on the stairs as she flew up them. He could hear another set of steps following behind her more slowly, and frowned. That was certainly new. He had always felt like he could pick out Fleur's movements from a mile away—his senses had always honed in on her—but he wasn't usually aware of other people too.
He closed his eyes and concentrated, and he could hear all the creaks of the house. He could hear Ron, Harry, and Hermione pacing and arguing two floors above him. He could hear Fred and George scheming about their little joke shop downstairs, and he could hear and even smell the dinner frying on the stovetop.
He opened his eyes just as Fleur flung open the door and rushed over to him. She flung her arms around her neck and was crying into his chest. The second person, Lupin, shuffled into the room awkwardly. He was averting his gaze from the display of emotion and made his way to the corner of the room, his eyes fixated on the dresser.
Bill ignored him and rubbed Fleur's back.
"I vas so vorried about vou," she cried. She pulled back from his chest and stared up at him, her eyes wide with fear.
The sight clenched his heart and suddenly he was afraid. His mother had been right not letting Fleur in. He didn't know what he was capable of. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if he was ever the cause of the fear in her eyes. She seemed so fragile, he couldn't take any chances. He drew back from her.
"I think you should go." He whispered, "Go back home to your sister."
"How many timez do I have to tell vou? I am not leaving vou!"
"Yes, you are. Fleur, I need you to leave." He unhooked her fingers from his neck and let them drop to her sides.
"Vhat?" she asked, tears streaming down her face.
"I said, I need you to go, please. And don't come back."
She got to her feet and clenched her jaw. "I vill leave now but I vill be back. I know vou do not mean dis!"
She stormed out of the room and slammed the door shut behind her. The loud thud echoed in the small room.
Lupin cleared his throat and Bill threw him a nasty look.
"I can't marry her! Look at me, I'm a monster. I don't even know what I'm capable of."
"Ahh yes," said Lupin calmly, "I understand completely. What are you capable of? Do you feel any different?"
Fleur refused to leave the house, even though Bill was refusing to see her. He loved her more than anything and knew that he would never be able to trust himself around her again, not completely. What type of life would he be able to provide her now? Not the one she deserved, certainly, so each time she came and knocked on his door, he told her to go away.
He was beginning to get better but he refused to leave his room, fearful of what he might do. He was slowly pacing back and forth in his room, trying to stretch out his knee when he heard the soft knock on the door and eyed the clock. Right on time. Not that he needed the clock to tell him who it was. He could smell her flowery perfume and hear her inhale small sharp breaths.
She had been coming at the same time every day, three times a day for the past week, but Bill never let her in or said anything other than "go away" to her. She still hadn't been deterred though and would sit on the floor with her back to the door telling him trivial things about her day like they used to . Or she would tell him about the latest detail in their wedding plans, despite the fact that he had told her they were not getting married. She would fill in the silence with her sing-song voice, and every single time, he had to fight with himself not to open the door and embrace her.
He was waiting for the soft thud of her back against the door but he didn't hear it this time. Instead he heard her knock more sharply, and when he didn't answer, he heard the click of the door knob.
She strode into the room, her shoulders squared, and her hands on her hips.
"Dis haz gone on long enuff!" she shouted at him. "Vhy von't vou talk to me?"
"Fleur," he sighed, the sentence tasting bitter on his tongue, "please leave."
"No! I vill not! Vhy do vou vant me to?" she asked angrily.
"Fleur," he tried again, "Please leave."
"No!" She planted her feet and stared him down. "I vill not."
He began to feel his cheeks redden in anger; didn't she know he was doing this for her!?
"Fleur, look at me. What do you see?"
"Da man dat I vove," she responded quickly.
"Fleur, I am a monster; I am no longer that same person."
She scoffed at him, "Vou are no different."
He slinked over to her and pointed at his face. 'What do you mean I am no different? What are these?"
"Dose are scar, dat show how brave my fiance is."
"No, those scars show that I am part monster! I could hurt you, Fleur, we don't know what I am capable of."
"I do know dat vou could never hurt me." She reached her hand up and cupped his cheek.
"Fleur, we don't know that," he said and took a step back out of her reach.
"I do and I am not leaving vou! So vou better get used to me being here!"
She strolled over to him and place an angry kiss on his mouth.
He held onto her, fearing that if he let go he would stumble into a dark void that he hadn't really wanted.
"Fleur," he whispered, "We really don't know what I am capable of. It's dangerous."
"Loving vou could never be dangerous. Ve vill find out what vou can do together. Dat is vhat we promised each other isn't it, forever?"
He beamed down at her. Her small hand was gripped tightly in his; the hand might have been delicate but he had never seen anyone with more strength.
"Forever," he promised.