He watched her at the feast, beautiful, tired and sad. He watched her, arms folded against his chest, leaning back with his chair against the wall. He saw one, two, three different blokes casually sitting themselves next to her, miserably failing to catch her attention and then shuffling away dejectedly. Bill felt his muscles inflate even if just a bit and a smirk nestling at the corner of his mouth. If he had to admit, he'd say that yes, he did keep an eye on the enchanting woman, observing her, buying his time.
A venomous scoff brought him back to earth.
"You're being really obvious, you know," a long haired girl informed him, walking away in the opposite direction of his focus point.
"Good morning to you too, sis," Bill saluted, smirk growing wider. He knew Ginny to be protective of him, just like his mother, and that he'd probably have a lot to deal with when things would start getting serious. When things would start getting serious?! They'd only spoken once – if that could really be considered talking – and awkwardly greeted each other once or twice afterwards, so where did all those thoughts come from? Bill rolled his eyes and sighed. The girl was already getting under his skin and there was nothing he could do about it.
As the feast progressed and eventually came to an end, a sense of loss took hold of the young ginger-haired man. It was loss for everything he used to have and maybe would never experience again: calmness, a world in which he knew his family to be safe, happiness, the security of tomorrow. All would be lost in the war against Voldemort and it was only now that he realized what a fool he'd been not to cherish them. He'd left home at an early age, traveled, moved to Egypt, thrived for a life of adventure. But now? Adventure was the last thing he needed. He felt his resolve become stronger and he was positive he took the right decision when he vowed he'd return home and fight for the Order.
A touch of lightheartedness and he sensed that she was near him. Standing still, he heard her honey voice as she addressed Harry and then Ron, planting a kiss on each of their cheeks. But what made his heart truly stop were her words, promising to come back to England and improve her language skills. The sound of her steps walking away shook him and he reckoned he had to make his decision fast.
Unobserved by the rest of the Weasleys – Ron, with Harry and Hermione engrossed in their own conversation, his mother fussing over Ginny and the twins nowhere in sight - Bill followed her tracks, hands deep in the pockets of his dragonhide bottoms. He swung the ancient oaken doors open and stepped into the blinding sun. She was wearing robes as silver as her hair today, he noticed.
"So you're planning on returning to England," he started, then cringed at how completely un-smooth his icebreaker came out.
Fleur Delacour turned around with a bored face, as if to tell off another person that day. It could have been his imagination, but the blonde witch seemed to relax and even smile for the faintest of moments when she acknowledged who the person trying to talk to her was.
"'ello – Bill, yes?" she nodded. "I never knew ze English to be so direct," added Fleur, pouting slightly, a sparkle of mischievousness in her sad blue eyes.
"Erm – no. No, we're not," he scratched the back of his neck, subtly checking that his hair looked alright. "Should I start again?" he shoved his fists back into his pockets and caught himself tracing a small circle with the sole of his right foot.
"No, I never appreciated all this English politeness. It's better to be direct, frank, yes?" Fleur quirked her silvery eyebrow and Bill nodded without properly understanding the question.
She scanned him from head to toe and tossed her long tresses over her shoulders. "Well, see you at Gringotts," Fleur smiled and started floating rather than walking to the edge of the Forbidden Forest, where four majestic horses where already huffing and puffing, ready to fly the French back home.
"See you," he whispered, as the heat enveloped his features, from his neck and up-up-up to his hairline, a genuine Weasley trademark. William "Bill" Weasley was nearly twenty-five and he had never blushed in front of a girl just because she said goodbye.
June unfolded slowly, in between paperwork, moving house, installing himself in a kitchen-sized office at Gringotts and straining his ears day after day in hope of hearing the delicate tap of her footsteps down the marble corridors of the Wizarding Bank. "She must have changed her mind," he thought, running his hands through his hair obsessively.
Then, on a sunny morning in mid-July, his name was called in a heavy accent just as he was climbing the great steps to enter the glimmering white building. Not even bothering to hide his grin, Bill turned around to take in the view. It was her, indeed, wearing a medium length summer dress and her hair pulled back in a messy bun that framed her face perfectly. She emanated elegance even from a distance and the redheaded wizard became aware that his pulsepoint was throbbing increasingly harder, stronger, his blood running through his veins faster and faster.
"So you came back," he smartly observed, descending to greet her.
"Yes, I did," she smiled. He was pleased to notice that the sadness in her eyes was almost gone now, which meant that the time spent in France with her family healed her – or, at least, partially. Bill reckoned he felt the same way, even if their evenings in Grimmauld Place, Sirius' inherited house in the middle of London and where they were currently relocated, were filled to the top with Order meetings. However, it helped him understand and accept that he'd missed being close to his parents, his brothers and little sister, that he'd missed laughing with them and chatting with them over breakfast.
"First day?" said Bill, grin still plastered on his face. He didn't fancy making an effort to conceal it: he decided he would be going all in, head-first.
"First day of work 'ere, yes. I arrived two days ago with my muzzer and searched for an apartment to rent," Fleur explained, looking around the small street leading to Gringotts as if to indicate how much she had to search. "England is very expensive, it was not easy," a slight crease formed between her eyebrows.
"I also live in London right now," he started, realising he had no idea how to continue. "So, yeah, if you ever want a tour or just grab a coffee on weekends, you know where to find me," Bill continued, as his hand parted ways with the side of his body and traveled East to touch her arm. Fortunately, he got a hold of himself midway and ordered it to return to its safe place, deep in his jeans' pocket. He made a mental note to remember that he became quite touchy-feely when he was flustered and do something about it. "Stay cool, Bill, you're acting like a prat," he advised himself.
"I know?" she asked amused.
"Erm – yes, first floor, second office on the right. It's got my name on it and all," he rapidly said, a strong blush creeping up his features at his obvious error. Fleur giggled and he prayed for the dragon living beneath the bank to somehow crawl up and mercifully kill him. He used to have it really well with women and now he turned into his little brother Ron trying to show Hermione Granger that he fancied her. And with about the same amount of success.
"I would like a tour," she flashed him a dazzling smile. "And I want to see all ze beautiful cafés! You 'ave them, yes?" she inquired, leaning a bit towards him and connecting her gaze to his.
"Oh, yes, so many," responded Bill, not being able to break their connection. He felt he could get lost for days in those big blue eyes.
"Would you show me today?" Was it his imagination or was she leaning in even closer?
"Sorry?" he blinked, tilting his form as if drawn by a magnet.
"Today? A tour?" Fleur batted her eyelashes and continued to smile. A faint voice in the back of his mind shouted at him to say yes.
He wanted to accept the invitation with both arms open, but the words his mouth actually formed were, "Are you serious?!"
Her sweet expression immediately rearranged itself into a cold-hard one, an eyebrow raised high and her lips pursed. It seemed like the wall she always put between her and the rest of the world, ensuring that she'd never get hurt.
"I meant to say alright, I'm done at four, why don't we meet then, but somehow it came out really loud and creepy, and I'm very sorry," the redheaded wizard explained, feeling like his chances were as high as the Giant Squid's right now. Fortunately, she relaxed at the sight of his blushing cheeks and agreed to meet again later. They parted ways at the entrance, him taking the elevator and her taking a seat in the lobby, waiting to be escorted to the Head Goblin and get a brief on what was expected of her.
The time dragged by slowly, torturously slow, and Bill caught himself leaving the office more often than normal just to make the time fly faster. Needless to say, he couldn't concentrate on his tasks and was lost in thought during the daily catch-up meeting. At half past three, he was sloshed over his desk, twiddling his wand between his fingers absentmindedly. Once or twice he thought about conjuring a rose bouquet and sending it to her, but, at a second analysis, he didn't want to force his luck. Nice and easy. All in due time. That was his motto for the near future for all things Fleur Delacour.
At ten to four, he walked out of his office, a mess of unfinished tasks abandoned behind. With a newfound spring in his step, he made his way outside to wait for her. He exhaled twice in his palm to check his breath, combed his long red hair with his fingers and tugged at his clothes to straighten them a bit.
"Ready?" her honey drenched voice called from behind, leaving him wondering where she came from.
"Yeah," he grinned, removing his hands from his pockets. His mother once told him that it wasn't polite to keep your hands like that when engaging into a conversation with a girl and Bill was committed to doing things right. "Let's start at Florean Fortescue's," he pointed to a small, but pretty ice cream shop nearby. "It's a bit crowded, but he has the best ice cream and he also has a lot of knowledge on History of Magic – er, if that's a topic that interests you," he quickly amended.
"Oh, I liked Charms more than History, but I theenk it is very interesting, this Florean," Fleur smiled and started her stride towards the ice cream parlour.
Florean Fortescue recognised Bill right away and greeted him like an old friend. The ice cream was as good as promised, so they bought two each. Another mental note was made to remember that she appreciated mint flavoured sweets. A drop of chocolate mint rested at the corner of her little mouth and Bill watched her slowly lick it, relishing in the exquisite taste. He felt a shudder take over him and all of a sudden his jeans were a wee bit too tight.
"Right, how about I show you the rest of Diagon Alley?" Bill cleared his throat.
"Yes, why not? I've already been with my muzzer, but it is better to go with a local, I belive," she agreed, searching for a bottle of water in her purse. It was truly very warm outside, which gave Bill an idea.
"And maybe, if you still have time afterwards, we can go for a drink at a nice pub I know near Eeylops – if you have the time," he tried employing his most confident voice.
"I 'ave ze time," replied Fleur.
Comfortably sat in the breezy shade of the pub, they ended up chatting for hours. From similarities and differences between Hogwarts and Beauxbatons, to goblins and coworkers from the Wizarding Bank, the conversation flowed easily. She said that maybe he could help her with his English, he said yeah, alright. She said she was afraid she'd miss her home, he said he'd meet her every day, if that helped. The young man felt a pleasant warmth envelop himself as he listened to the sound of her laughter, taking in how her eyes sparkled when she revoked a particular happy memory or how she wiggled her button-like nose ever so slightly whenever she disliked something. Moreover, he did not miss her leg bumping his own once or twice or how she gazed at him intently, one hand supporting her chin and the other rapping the wooden surface of the table as if she was waiting for something to happen.
Like the gentleman he was, or was becoming right then, he didn't quite know or care to find out, Bill Weasley walked her home. She lived quite close to the Bank, he discovered, in one of those bohemian big windows apartments above an old bookshop. As he said his goodbye and was about to leave, her dainty fingers caught his hand and spun him around. Standing on her tiptoes, Fleur touched her full lips to his stubbled cheek, also caressing the corner of his mouth. Before he could respond – and, oh, how he wanted to respond – she was hurrying inside the building, saving a last look in his direction for a subtle wink.
This time, Bill did not blush. Her bold action broke his insecure boyish demeanor. In truth, he always knew he was a sucker for confident girls. If anything, he felt expectant of what the next day might bring and even a bit turned on. He touched two fingers to the spot where her lips had been and started laughing, wondering how he could be experiencing all this in such a time of fear and uncertainty. As he backed away to Disapparate, he caught a swish of silvery hair at the large window above.
all my thanks and appreciation go to littlerose13writes on tumblr for being such a wholesome wonderful person! besides being an amazing beta, she's also this super talented author! go read her fic Sweeter Than Fiction, it will be the best experience ever!