Fleur Delacour was not sure that she still needed dedicated one-on-one English lessons. Even if she did, she was fairly certain that Bill Weasley would not have been the best tutor; while he never laughed at her, he also spent quite a lot of time teaching her words that she couldn't really use with anyone else, which in many ways defeated the purpose of having English lessons in the first place.

At the same time, he was handsome, and he was attentive, and he was very, very brave. He hadn't talked about the looming war much over the past two months, but she knew that he'd left a job he loved in a safer part of the world to come back to a war. She knew that he'd decided to do so without hesitation on that horrible, confusing night. She knew that it was already taking a toll on him. She knew that there was no toll high enough to make him falter.

And she knew that he always had a smile for her. It wasn't the empty, dazzled sort of smiles she was used to getting from men - when Bill smiled at her or complimented her or teased her, it felt like he was seeing her.

She wasn't used to people outside of her family seeing her.

So in that way, he was the perfect tutor.

When she got to his office early Friday evening, he was already sitting on his couch rather than behind his desk. To her surprise, he didn't seem to be working on anything; he usually was when she arrived. Instead, he was slumped backward against the deep red cushions and absentmindedly twirling his wand. His hair hung loosely around his shoulders, and his black shirt and jeans accentuated the dark circles under his eyes. When she'd seen him just two days earlier, he hadn't looked so exhausted.

She wondered what had happened to change that.

His face brightened when she knocked on the open door, though, and he met her in the middle of the room. She barely got out a greeting before he'd wrapped his arms around her.

"Are you all right?" she asked, returning the hug. Since they'd started sleeping together three weeks before, he'd usually hugged her when she got to his office for their English lessons, but today it felt more like a lifeline than a welcome.

"I'm fine." He let her go. "I'm just - I'm happy to see you."

She knew that "happy to see you" probably meant "stressed over the war," and he knew that she knew. She tried to avoid asking him about it, though; she was still afraid he'd think she was a spy if she asked him any question, no matter how benign.

When they settled on the couch, he put his arms around her again. "I'm happy to see you," he said again, and this time, she didn't feel like there were any loaded undertones. There was just the two of them.

She put her hands over his and squeezed. When she twisted around to look at his face, she was relieved to see that most of the obvious signs of exhaustion had evaporated into a smile. "I am happy to see you, too," she said, and he leaned down to brush his lips against hers. They parted, and his gaze shifted to the bottom of her skirt. "What?" she asked innocently when he raised his eyebrows.

"Your English may be good, but your acting needs some work," he teased, running his hand up the outside of her leg. "I told you, that was the first and last time we have sex in my office. You're not going to change my mind, no matter how short your skirt is."

She'd been planning to tease him until he either forgot about his ban on office sex or called it quits on the lesson early to head to his bedroom, but sudden good cheer aside, he'd looked miserable enough when she'd walked in that she decided it could wait ten minutes.

"Are you - are you all right?" she asked. "You do not need to tell me anything, I just - I am here if you want to."

He sighed, and she reached up to run her fingers through his hair. "I don't know," he said, tilting his head toward her and closing his eyes. "I'm fine, I guess. It's just - tiring, I guess - to try to figure out where other people's loyalties lie without outing myself or pushing a potential ally away. Headquarters has been shit since Hogwarts started back up, too - now that Harry's gone, people keep sniping at each other about who told Harry what. I'm sick of it - what's done is done, and besides, Harry isn't the world's deepest thinker. He's not going to figure anything out just because of a couple stray sentences here or there."

"I thought he was very - very good in the tournament," she said, feeling slightly defensive. She had been irritated at his being allowed to compete at all, but her sister was the most important person in the world to her, and he'd saved her in the second task. Someone had pointed out later that Gabrielle hadn't actually been in any danger, but Fleur would never forget her panic or that Harry had risked his place in the tournament because he cared more about saving her sister than glory or money. She would always like him for that.

Bill shrugged. "Well, he did have some help with some of that, you know - and besides, I didn't say he wasn't good in a crisis. He's a good kid, and survived a lot because he's got solid reflexes - he just doesn't tend to analyze things." He put a hand over his mouth to cover a yawn. "Dumbledore's given the go-ahead for me to focus on something else, though, so I've got an excuse to make myself scarce about avoid most of the Harry talk for awhile. Don't worry - I should look better next week." He grinned at her. "Do I look that bad? Are you embarrassed to be seen with me?"

She pulled her hand away from his hair to shove him gently. "Do not be silly. I was just worried, a little."

He shifted his body to face her and kissed her again. "Thanks," he said softly. "But I'm really fine."

That made her feel a little better, and as usual, he'd managed to talk about it without giving her any real information - anyone who knew anything could have guessed that Albus Dumbledore and Harry Potter would be involved, since they were the two people who'd loudly told everyone that You-Know-Who was back.

She appreciated that, too.

That had apparently exhausted his ability to have a productive conversation, however; he seemed to be having a hard time stringing sentences together when she asked how his day had been, and his eyes kept drifting back to her skirt. When he lost his train of thought for the third time, she swung both of her legs up to rest on his and started to stroke his chest.

He immediately choked on whatever he'd been about to say.

"What is wrong?"

He rolled his eyes at her, but after a moment, he dropped his arm from the back of the couch to pull her closer. "You know what."

She started to trail her fingers down past his stomach, and his breath caught in his throat. "I do not, so you should explain. This is an English lesson, no?"

He let our a snort of laughter, but he slid his hand over to rest on the inside of her leg. "I'm not sure that driving me up the wall qualifies as an English lesson, Fleur."

She shifted to spread her legs a little further apart. "But I learn so many interesting words when we do this that I would never learn somewhere else. It is very educational."

"Well, when you put it that way…" He got to the top of her thigh and started to stroke her through her thin silk underwear. She buried her face in his shoulder just in time to muffle her moan. "If I'm really helping you learn English, I guess I should make sure I'm not leaving anything out." His lips curled into a smile as she started to squirm. "You're so easy to tease," he said softly. "I'd love to push your skirt up and fuck you on the couch right now."

"You have - fucked me here on the couch before," she pointed out, stumbling a little over the word 'fuck,' which Bill often used in a lot of different ways. "And it would be very easy right now. I could get on top of you and -" She stopped, feeling her face start to get a little red. "I do not know the words."

He pulled her silvery blond hair back so he could brush his lips against her neck. "Slide down onto me. Take me in you. If you want to get really explicit and drive me up the wall, you could say that you want me to slide my big hard cock into your tight wet cunt. Ah - but don't use either of those words outside of, you know, this. They're really not polite."

He seemed to have forgotten how strongly he'd rejected the idea of sex in his office just a few minutes earlier.

"See? Educational." She kissed him. "Although there is no way I will remember all of that."

"I'll start saying it more when I'm fucking you, that might help."

His fingers had started to move faster. "I think that that would help me remember," she agreed, trying to bite back a moan.

"Fuck," he said. "I'm as hard as a rock right now." At the look on her face, he added, "It's just an expression."

"Oh." She started to stroke him through his trousers again. "Yes, you are as hard as a rock right now. Would you like to put your hard cock in me?"

He groaned and got to his feet. "Okay, that's enough English lesson for today." He offered her his hand.

She took it, beaming at him. "But you still have to teach me what to say to drive you - up the wall, no? I do not think I remember it all."

"Sure, yes," he agreed. "But I can teach you in my bed while I fuck your brains out." He led her out the door and locked it behind them. "It's an expression," he added when he turned back around and saw the look on her face.

"English is very strange sometimes." She put her arms around his neck. "I do think you will have to tell me these things many, many times for me to remember."

"I think I can manage that." After a quick glance around the darkened room, his lips were on hers again. She brushed her tongue against his, and they fell back against his office door. After a moment, she felt one of his hands slide under her skirt again.

Then someone cleared his throat. Fleur felt her face flush as Bill spun around. There were certainly worse positions they could have been caught in, but this one wasn't great.

When Bill spoke, though, he sounded irritated rather than defensive or anxious, which calmed her nerves a little.

A very little.

"Fuck," Bill hissed. "Bren, you almost gave me a heart attack! What are you doing here?"

The other man was leaning against the doorway about twenty feet away away. She couldn't make out many of his features in the dim light, though she did see the flash of teeth when he grinned. "Looking for you. You mentioned that you'd been working late a lot, so I thought I'd try my luck when you weren't home." He glanced past Bill at Fleur. "I'm not sure I'd call this working," he said dryly. "But don't worry. It can wait."

Bill sighed. "Can it really?" He sounded resigned. "If it can't -"

"It can," the other man said firmly. "Yes, Bill, really. Have a good… evening." He grinned again before vanishing from the doorway again, and Fleur felt more heat rise to her face.

Bill turned back to her and wrinkled his nose. "Sorry," he said, rubbing his hand across his face. "I - sorry."

She frowned at him. "Who was that?"

"A friend with a shit sense of humor." The irritation had faded from his voice, though; she hadn't recognized the other person, but Bill clearly knew him very well.

She dropped the subject and followed him out of the building. As they made their way down the stairs, he added, in a much softer voice, "He's part of the something else. That's why he was here." When they got to the bottom, he stopped and took her hand again. "Are you ready?"

Fleur nodded. His grip tightened a little, and then she felt the familiar tug at the bottom of her stomach before they landed outside the gate to his cottage. The last rays of the summer sun still lingered in the sky, and the snap of his fingers when they appeared had brought the lanturns on hanging on either side of the front door to life.

The light grey stone walls reminded her of her parents' house, and the shutters on the windows had left her daydreaming about pulling them closed and waiting out a long, angry storm with him. The cottage was situated near the edge of a cliff - she was sure that when storms hit, they truly hit.

The first time she'd come here, leaning over the wall that ran along the edge of the cliff had thrilled her so much that she'd lost track of time. That had surprised him; when she'd asked why, he'd just laughed and said it shouldn't have.

She wondered how he'd react if she asked him to fuck her while she clung to the wall and looked over the edge.

When they got inside, he surprised her by slumping against the wall just inside the entryway; she'd expected him to head immediately for his bedroom. "Sorry," he again.

She wrapped her arms around his stomach. "There is nothing to forgive," she said firmly.

After a moment, she felt his arms close around her, too. "I feel guilty about - about being vague and dodging so many questions, but there's a lot I can't explain." He hesitated. "Honestly, I don't even want to explain the things I probably can."

She rubbed her face against his soft black shirt. Bill's shirts were always impossibly soft, and they always fit him like a glove. "Bill, you should tell me what you want. I will listen, but right now I do not need to know more than you want to tell me."

He pulled back. His gaze swept across her face slowly, his eyes more intense than she'd ever seen them before. "I'll probably have to eventually," he admitted. "If you don't - if you stick around, I mean." The hurt must have shown in her face, because he quickly added, "I don't mean it that way. I just - I don't know that I'm a very safe person to be involved with, and this isn't your fight. When it gets worse, it's just - it's a lot to ask."

"You would not hurt me," she said, trying not to get angry with him for suggesting that she was a coward.

"No," he agreed. "Of course not. But someone else might, because of me."

He was looking more miserable with every word. Her irritation lessened considerably; mostly, she just wanted to hug him again. He seemed to want to look at her face, though, so she resisted the urge. "How are you so sure that I am not the spy?" she asked instead. "Or under the Polyjuice potion, or under the Imperius curse?"

She felt his body stiffen a little. "Because I know you're not," he said tightly. "Don't ask me how - I literally can't tell you. But I know."

"You are sure."

"I'm very sure."

She reached up to trace his jawline with her finger, and he shivered. "So - so you are very, very involved in the fight, then, if you are this sure and this worried so soon."

He licked his lips. After a moment, apprehension plain in his voice, he said, "Yeah. I am."

She rose up on her tiptoes, pressed her body against his, wound her arms around his neck, and kissed him. His hold on her waist was tentative at first, but when her tongue brushed against his, he tightened his grip.

"I've been dreading this conversation," he said when they came up for air. "That wasn't the response I was expecting."

"What you said means that you are brave," she told him. "You are a hero." His face started to get red, and she pulled his head down to kiss him again. "I like that. I like it in a - in a fuck out my brains way."

"Fuck my brains out."

"Yes. That."

He searched her face. "Are you serious?" he asked slowly. "Like - really serious? You get what I'm saying? And you don't have any questions?"

"I am serious," she said. "I understand what you are saying. And I do not have any other questions about that, but would you like to - to - to fuck my wet cunt?" Judging by his groan, she was pretty sure she'd said that right. "I want your hard cock in me" she added.

He yanked off his shirt. He'd started to unbutton his trousers when she pulled hers off and unhooked her bra. "Fuck," he said. His mouth was on hers again, and she wrapped her arms over his shoulders as she deepened the kiss.

They broke away again, and their assorted shoes and most of their remaining clothing ended up in a heap on the floor. When he pulled her toward him again, his hands slid around to grab her ass through the thin fabric, and she whimpered into his chest.

"I think that we should go to your bedroom," she breathed. "Otherwise, we might end up - fucking - right here."

As soon as they'd fallen onto his bed and she'd crawled on top of him, he asked, "You're really don't mind the - you know, what we talked about?"

She made a face. "Bill, I like you very much, but please do not ask me these questions while we are doing this," she said. "I cannot - cannot concentrate."

"Sorry." He pulled her down to kiss her. "I just - you're amazing. Lay on your back?"

She rolled off of him, and he kissed her again before edging down her body to take one of her nipples in his mouth.

She started to squirm, and she felt rather than heard his laughter. "I love how loud you get," he said. He lowered his head again, and she felt his fingernails starting to trail up and down the inside of both of her arms.

A pleasant tingling sensation spread from her arms to her shoulders and started to creep up her neck, and she gasped. "Bill!"

"Mm?" he murmured without lifted his head.

"I -" He started to run his tongue in a circle, and she let out a whimper. "Fuck," she cried. "Bill, please!"

"I love it when you say fuck." The tingling had started to crawl down her torso, and she let her head fall back onto the pillow and closed her eyes. "When you're tired of being teased, just push my head down." He shifted to her outer arms, which she would have expected to be less sensitive.

They were not.

She cried out his name again as his fingers continued past her hand. "Not - not hard," she gasped. "I feel very - very sensitive right now."

He stopped on the outside of her thigh, and his lips brushed against hers. "Good sensitive, or bad sensitive?"

"Good, but - but sensitive."

"Tell me if it's too much." She nodded wordlessly, and he moved his head back down to her chest. His touch on her through her underwear was feather light, and she let out a loud moan. Her arms felt so heavy that she wasn't entirely sure she'd be able to move them when she did want to push his head down.

"I like you," she managed to say. "I like you very, very much." He didn't pick his head up, but he increased the pressure he was putting on her with his fingers a little, and she felt her heart starting to speed up. "You can - you can take those off."

She was afraid a moment that she hadn't been intelligible, but then he shifted his body down. She raised her hips up, and he pulled them down and tossed them aside. Now his kisses were concentrated on her stomach, and his fingers were exploring her folds. "You're amazing," he said between kisses. "You're perfect."

She managed to move one arm to push his head down.

"Fuck," he muttered once his face was between her legs. "Fleur -" His tongue flicked over her, and she gasped. "You have a perfect fucking cunt. I can't wait to stick my cock in it."

His touch was still light. "More," she whimpered. "I - harder."

He started to move his fingers and tongue with more urgency, and she let out a shriek. Early on, that might have phased him; now that he knew her reactions better, he kept going. She reached down to put her hands on his head again to guide him as the pressure started to build, and when it reached its apex, she cried out and closed her eyes again. As the ripples started to slow down, she felt the bed move a little as he got off to grab the wrapper off his dresser.

When she finally opened her eyes, he was leaning on one elbow next to her and staring into her face.

"How much did you say you like me?" he teased.

She reached over to run a finger down his chest. "I like you very, very much." He smiled at her, and she reached down to touch him. "You are still very hard."

He sucked in his breath. "I am," he agreed.

"You said you couldn't wait to - to stick your cock in my perfect cunt." She felt like she stumbled over those words a little; if she did, the expression on his face made her doubt he'd even noticed. "You still want to, yes?"

"Fuck yes," he said, rolling her onto her back again. "You know," he said as she guided him into her, "I think fucking you is making me louder."

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders as he started to thrust. "Good," she gasped. "I like it."

He lowered himself onto his elbows and bit down softly on her neck. She moaned, and he pulled up to look at her. "Is that - do you like that?"

"Yes!"

"Should I do it harder?" When she nodded, he went back to her neck. This time, he was less gentle, and he grunted when she cried out and dragged her nails across his back in response. "I'm pretty sure I'll never be as loud as you are, though," he murmured in her ear, and she grinned. "I think that means to keep going?"

"Yes. I - I am sorry about scratching -"

He gave a snort of laughter and switched to the other side of her neck. "Don't be sorry. You can scratch me as much as you want."

His pace was starting to pick up, which usually meant that he was getting close. "Do you want to get behind me?" she asked.

"Fuck yes." He pulled out of her, and she rolled onto her hands and knees. Now it was his fingernails marking her back as he thrust into her. "You have a perfect fucking cunt," he said again as she pushed back to meet him. "You're fucking perfect."

Her heart skipped a beat, and he groaned her name again.

Then he buried himself in her, and they both collapsed. After a few minutes of laying there panting, he rolled onto his side and put a hand up to her cheek. "Fuck," he said again. "Fleur -"

She beamed at him. To her surprise, a dazed look immediately spread across his face, and he fell backward. She edged closer to him and peered into his face. His eyes were unfocused, and when she rested a hand on his chest, she could feel his heart hammering much harder than it usually was after they'd taken a few minutes to cool down.

After a moment, he shuddered, let out a very different kind of groan, and rubbed his face with his hands.

She watched him for a moment. "Did I do that?" He let his arms fall beside his head and nodded. "I did not mean to," she said, feeling perplexed. "I only meant to do a very little. It just does not usually work on you."

He let out a snort of laughter and pushed a few stray strands of sweaty hair back from his face. "Fleur, it always works on me." He closed his eyes and took a deep, steadying breath. "I just usually hide it better."

She stared at him. "Really?" He nodded. "I could not tell."

He opened his eyes again and met hers. "That was the goal." His heart hadn't started to slow down, but his tone was fairly composed. "That's not why I like you, and I didn't want you to wonder if it was."

"I still do not think that," she told him, leaning down to kiss him. "But now that I know that it works, I may try to do it more."

He pushed her hair away and returned the kiss. "Let me guess," he said dryly. "Especially in my office, when I'm trying to help you learn English."

"Why would you think that?" His expression made her laugh. "If you do not want me to, though, I will not."

He shook his head, a smile spreading across his face. "If it amuses you, go ahead. Just - remember that that's not why I like you, okay?" She leaned down to kiss him, and he put his arms around her. She squealed as he pulled her down to lay beside him. "Seriously," he said, kissing her collarbone. "That's not why I like you."

He seemed very intent on the point, and she frowned at him. "Is this like - like the spy for me? Where I am worried that you will think that?"

He considered that. "Yeah," he said after a moment. "I guess it is. I just - I don't want you to ever doubt how I feel about you, not… you know, the veela thing." He waved his hand vaguely.

She rested her head on his chest. "I do not doubt that."

"Good." He sighed and put his arms around her. She snuggled closer to him; she'd discovered that being wrapped in his embrace always made her feel more content and safe. "I hate this war," he said softly. "It's only just started, and I hate it. But I'm glad you're in my life."

She felt a pleasant tingle sweep across her body again. "I am glad that you are in my life, too."

After a long pause, he cleared his throat. "You're - you said that you weren't doing this with anyone else, right?"

"Yes. Only with you."

He swallowed. "Yeah. I - do you want to - I mean -"

Some kinds of awkwardness were the same in every language. "Are you trying to ask me to be your - your girlfriend?" she asked. His face flushed, and before he could backtrack out of sheer embarrassment, she said, "Yes. I like you. I have said this, many times."

He grip on her tightened. "I like you, too," he said. "So, are you up for round two?"


A/N: Thank you so much to yellow 14, MrsRavensmut, LillyMay77, elleisforlovee, and the guest who reviewed last chapter! This is slightly... not what I have written before (though my Drastorias have gotten pretty smutty too, haha), but the encouragement here and on HPFT!twitter (where I've been livetweeting nonsense and backstory and snippets I love as I write) has really been helping my muse.

At any rate! Thank you so much for reading, reviews/faves are always appreciated, and I've probably got at least one more of these in my system!