Author's Note: So occassionally I read something about Bill and Fleur, and it makes me think about them and I realize that they are actually quite a nice couple. I've never written about them before, but I thought I would give it a shot. This was written for the Globetrotter Drabble Competition on the Harry Potter Challenge forum posted by why the caged bird sings for prompt #15 Dubai. This is the closest I have been so far to 500 words, so I'm pretty proud of that. Thanks to NiftyGirl and TheHaloFreak once again for allowing me to think outloud to them. Reviews are awesome, as are reviewers.
The damn thing was expensive, one of the most expensive things he had ever held in his hand. But he liked the look of it; a single diamond set in a band of engraved white gold. It reminded him of her, of her lightness and her grace. He could imagine the way it would look on her hand, how she might look at it and show it off. Besides, he couldn't possibly go to her with anything less than everything he wanted to give her. So he bought it.
As he handed the galleons to the balding wizard who sold it to him, he thought of his parents. His father hadn't even had a proper ring when he'd asked, merely the promise to love his mother forever. He couldn't help but think there was something terribly perfect about that, but he was Bill Weasley and not Arthur, and he had always had more flare for style than his father. Not to mention that Fleur Delacour was most certainly not his mother.
Falling in love with Fleur had been the most natural thing he'd ever done; like waking up from a restful sleep. She'd simply floated in to Gringotts one day, to work on her 'Eenglish' and everyone had noticed, it would have been impossible not to notice. She was one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen; certainly the most beautiful to shut herself up with dusty vaults and grumpy goblins. The first time he spoke to her it was out of courtesy, and more than a little curiosity. Three polite questions about where she was from and how she was finding London and if she really were the Fleur Delacour that had so tormented his little brother and competed in the Tri-Wizard Tournament, and he found himself afraid of the end of the conversation. So he'd found another excuse to speak to her, and another until suddenly he was asking her to dinner.
And now he was buying a ring, funny how fast these things moved. He wasn't concerned with making the moment perfect; he didn't think it would make a difference in what she would say. Everything else about them had happened naturally, so it didn't seem necessary to try and force this moment to happen unnaturally. Instead of planning candles and roses he slipped back to work and asked if she would like to meet him later, to which she readily agreed.
For all the hours that he spent staring at the ring that afternoon while he waited to see her, Fleur barely spared it half a glance when he slipped it onto her finger. Oh it was beautiful, and no doubt her friends would see plenty of it later, but in that moment the expensive piece of jewelry didn't matter at all. He thought of his parents again, and he couldn't help but feel that no matter how proud he was of all that he could offer Fleur, there was something terribly perfect about how when it came down to it, all she needed was his promise to love her forever.