The Portkey seemed to take forever. Fleur could feel Bill slumping against her and she tightened her arms around him and hoped he stayed conscious. They finally arrived in a confusing swirl of purple. Bill's knees buckled and he sank to the ground just as Fleur felt a cold draft cover her from head to toe. Suddenly, she was in another room, an ordinary hospital room, and several healers were peering at her through heavy, hooded cloaks.
"She's clean," one said, and almost as one, the healers pushed their hoods off.
"Bill, 'ow is he?" she asked.
"We don't know for sure yet," said one of the healers, a serious looking woman. "Can you tell us everything that happened?"
They all began peppering her with questions and Fleur tried to remember every detail she could. At one point, the healers stopped asking questions to confer in a corner of the room, and Fleur finally had a chance to look around. Through a window in the wall, she could see the purple-tinged space where they had arrived. It was a heavily warded room, she realized, the purple looked to be made of the same suffocation spell she had used earlier. A crowd of hooded healers was in the room and Fleur could just make out Bill, lying on a stretcher in their midst. His eyes were closed and his face still deathly pale, but Fleur saw his foot twitch.
"So, you performed the suffocation spell and then administered both potions?" One of the healers was talking, and Fleur reluctantly turned away from the window to answer.
"Yes. I did 'ze spell, then gave him 'ze silver potion, and then 'ze black."
"You are not a curse breaker, correct? Not even a trainee, by the looks of your robes. How did you know how to do the suffocation spell?" Another healer looked at her with a skeptical expression.
Her adrenaline was fading; Fleur was suddenly very tired. "I did a transfer spell, okay?" she said shortly. She rubbed her eyes and wished everyone would stop asking questions. "May I see Bill now?"
The healers ignored her. One spoke into his wand, apparently sending a message to someone Fleur couldn't see. "She didn't do the spell herself; it may not be right. You'll need to recheck him."
"Bill showed us 'ze suffocation spell yesterday and I took it out of his wand. And 'eet is a good thing I know how to do that, is it not?" Fleur felt herself getting angry and she forced herself to take a deep breath. "I did everything right. The suffocation spell, the silver potion, the black potion, everything." A jolt went through her as she thought of something. "I didn't heal 'is wounds though. From where the curse lashed at 'im. I brought 'im here and he was still bleeding, I think."
The male healer waved away her concern. "The lacerations we can fix. Are you certain he took all of both potions? And did he expel the curse before you transferred him here?"
Fleur nodded. "Yes. And yes. 'E vomited the curse. And then 'e put wards on the ground to protect the space. And only then did I bring him here."
"Bill had the presence of mind and strength to ward the area before you transferred him?" The healers were impressed, and Fleur's revelation led to a round of discussion with the healers in the room with Bill.
"He is lucky he is so good at what he does." Fleur overheard two of the healers talking. "A weaker or less experienced curse breaker would not have made it. Especially with . . ." One of them glanced at Fleur. Fleur looked back at her frankly.
"Especially with what?" she asked.
"Never mind," said the healer quickly. She smoothed her hair in a self-conscious way and Fleur sighed to herself.
"Miriam Wrightwood will be here soon," The healer continued. "She will give us an overview of what curses Bill likely experienced and how they should be treated." The woman was only half paying attention to Fleur as she spoke, and Fleur got the impression that they didn't trust anything she had told them. Another one patted her arm. "We will let you sit in the room shortly, if you promise to stay out of the way. I bet Bill would like to see something pretty when he wakes up."
Fleur tried to stifle her frustration. The important thing was that Bill was, by all appearances, going to be okay. It didn't really matter why or how, or what the others thought of her. It was like it always was. She knew what she had done, and that would have to be enough.
Still, she couldn't help but notice how three of the female healers were talking amiably together outside of Bill's room. The friendliness and camaraderie they displayed was something Fleur had never really experienced. Her best friend had always been her little sister, Gabrielle. She had never missed female friendships before. Why did she suddenly notice their lack now?
"You can see him now. Unless, maybe, you wanted to get a cup of tea first?" The male healer spoke to Fleur with a hopeful air. She quickly shook her head.
"No, thank you," she said carefully. "That is very kind of you, to ask me," she added. She did not want to offend the man. "I think I should see Bill now."
The healer nodded with an expression of inevitability and unlocked the wards to let her into the room."
Inside, Bill was lying in a bed, his head raised up so that Fleur could see his face. There was a chair near the wall and she pulled it over next to him and sat down. He opened his eyes slowly at the sound, looking confused. Then he saw her, and his expression relaxed into a smile.
"Fleur," he said hoarsely.
His hands were on top of the blankets and Fleur took one in hers; it was freezing cold. "I . . . I . . ," she began. To her great surprise, her eyes pricked with tears. She pushed them away impatiently. She never cried.
"I know," said Bill quietly. "Me too." His face was serene; the contrast with how she'd seen him only an hour previously was stark, and Fleur found herself without words. She stared at him instead, wanting to make sure he was actually, really here, and really okay.
"You were fucking brilliant," he said. "Using the transfer spell – it was perfect. The healers think you got the suffocation spell over me faster than if someone had said the entire incantation."
"I was so scared!" The words burst out of Fleur before she could stop them. "You were . . . dying. What if I 'ad been too slow? Or you 'ad not just shown us that spell, or if . . ."
"Or if the curse had gotten you too," interrupted Bill. The serene expression left his face. "I keep thinking about that, that if you had apparated just a foot or two closer, or the curse had spread more quickly. . . and you and I wouldn't have had the chance . . ." he broke off, looking tortured.
"I guess we 'are both lucky everything went right today, non?"
"Very lucky," Bill said fervently. "Especially after I almost bolluxed everything up yesterday."
"Bolluxed? What 'eez bolluxed? I do not think I know 'zat word."
"It means made a mess of things. I almost made a mess of things," Bill explained. "When I told Wilson to ask you out."
"Ahh yes, Wilson," said Fleur. She was quiet for a moment. "'Ow do you feel?" she finally asked. "Because if we are going to talk about Wilson and . . . other things, I want to make sure you know what you are saying."
Bill nodded. "That's a fair question. I think there is a lot we need to talk about." He raised his eyebrows in a question and Fleur nodded back. "I'm exhausted," he admitted. "I'm . . . trying to hide it so the healers will leave me alone, but my head aches, my stomach is still unsettled, and my legs aren't working properly. But . . . " he squeezed Fleur's hand. "My mind is completely clear. I remember everything I said yesterday. And what I didn't say . . . what I should have said."
"You sent me your Patronus."
"Yes. I must have sat there with it looking at me for ten minutes, trying to figure out what to say." He looked at her. "Everything sounded wrong. It's easier to talk to you face to face. That way, if I screw up, at least I can try to explain right away."
Fleur nodded. "I knew what you meant," she said. "But I like talking to you face to face better too."
Bill took a deep breath. "Aside from being an idiot about Wilson, I . . . shouldn't have, umm . . ." he broke off, looking sheepish. He shook his head to himself and tried again. "I shouldn't have gotten upset that you don't want to make love with me," he said in a rush. "That was unfair."
"It was," Fleur agreed. Bill looked at her in surprise, and Fleur shrugged in understanding. On the few occasions she had ever felt it necessary to apologize for her behavior, the man in question had always fallen all over himself assuring her that it was not her fault. She suspected it was much the same for Bill and women.
"I am not used to a woman rejecting me," he said quietly, confirming Fleur's suspicions.
"I didn't reject you," said Fleur quickly. "If anything, I . . ." she broke off, unsure.
"If anything you what, Fleur?" asked Bill. His eyes were serious.
Fleur took a deep breath. "If anything, I want you too much," she said quietly.
In the silence that followed, Fleur kept her eyes firmly on the bed in front of her. Bill's legs moved restlessly under the blanket but he did not speak. When she finally raised her head, she wasn't sure what to expect. Bill was watching her carefully, an almost unreadable expression on his face.
Fleur laughed shakily. "I . . . feel like your Patronus," she said.
Bill's smile quirked. "Maybe you will have better luck saying what I could not, but that I should be able to," he said.
Fleur nodded. "I . . . 'ave only a few women as friends, just a few," she said. Most women . . . well, 'zey don't want to be my friend. Gabrielle, she 'eez my favorite person in 'ze world." She smiled, thinking of her little sister, whom she hadn't seen since Easter.
Bill smiled too and nodded. "Little sisters are a special breed," he agreed.
"But, men, I 'ave never been friends with. I never even dated anyone for very long," she admitted. "As I think I 'ave told you before, most boys, and men too, are only interested in one thing, and that thing with a Veela, even better."
"Wilson," said Bill, leaning back and pinching the bridge of his nose. "What an idiot I was."
"Wilson was at least polite about it," Fleur said. "Not like some." She wanted to lighten Bill's mood. "Did I ever tell you about the professor at Beauxbatons?"
It worked. Bill snorted. "No, a professor? That sounds quite illegal, Miss Delacour."
Fleur shrugged. "In England, maybe. Not so much in France."
Bill sighed. "I don't think I want to know."
"You don't," Fleur agreed. "Because . . . because they were all the same. The men. Boys. Until I met you."
Fleur could feel the air shift in the room. Bill sat up a little straighter, the trace of smile on his face gone. He was listening intently.
"You, you are different," she said. "From 'ze start, you saw me more than merely Veela. Even when I am not a real trainee, you treat me like I 'ave a brain in my head, like I didn't 'ave to prove it to you. " She looked him in the eye. "I 'ave never had a friend before, who is a man," she said quietly. "You are my first. But . . ." she stopped, hesitating, then nodded to herself before continuing. "But . . ."
"But the feelings are stronger than just a friendship." Bill finished her sentence.
"How did you . . .?" she began. She shook her head. "I always knew you could tell what I was thinking," she said quietly, almost to herself. To her surprise, Bill chuckled.
"Actually, I find you very hard to read, Miss Delacour," said Bill. "You are one of the most. . . complicated women I have ever met. I usually don't care . . ." Bill broke off and ran his hand through his hair. "It's the Patronus again," he said softly. "He took another breath. "I usually don't care about trying to figure out what a woman I am with is thinking. Of course, they often aren't thinking about much." He raised his eyebrows and Fleur nodded in agreement.
"But then, I met you," he said quietly. "And I found myself wanting to talk to you, to teach you, to be with you. I found myself caring what you thought, as you said . . . too much." The words came out, haltingly, and Fleur understood exactly how difficult they had been for him to say. She looked up; there was not a hint of a smile on his face. His hands were still lying on top of the blanket and she again took one in hers.
In response, Bill shivered. "Of course, there was . . . is . . . the physical attraction." He nodded at their hands and Fleur nodded back. "But for a long time I tried to convince myself that being with you was like being with any other woman." He took a deep breath and touched Fleur's cheek, turning her head so that she faced him fully.
"You ask how I knew that your feelings for me are more than just as friends?" Bill swallowed hard. "It's because . . . it's more than friends for me too."
"Oh," said Fleur softly. Bill was rubbing his thumb gently over the back of her hand and for a moment she was entirely focused on the tiny movement of his skin on hers.
"I think we are more alike than we realized," she finally said. Bill nodded.
She had been unconsciously sliding her chair closer to the side of his bed and now he moved over so that she could sit on the edge. "Is 'zis okay?" She asked hesitantly. "I don't want to cause any discomfort."
"Never," he said. "You could never cause me discomfort." He shrugged. "Except when you are forcing me to drink terrible potions, of course."
"You must never need me to do that again," responded Fleur promptly.
"I promise," said Bill. He smiled at her. "That is the second time today I have promised you something, when I don't think I have ever promised a woman even once before."
Fleur nodded. "You promised not to leave me," she said. "But maybe that is a promise you do not wish to keep anymore, now that you are not . . . dying?"
Bill's mouth tightened with the memory. "I am, of course, happy not to be dying," he said. "But all this time, I don't think I've really been living either." He looked at her. "I keep my promises," he said.
Fleur nodded. "I am glad," she said.
There was much more to say, of course, but Bill's eyes were fluttering shut and Fleur herself felt the exhaustion of the day washing over her. She was about to tell Bill that it was probably time for her to leave, at least for a little while, when a commotion in the hallway startled them both. A number of voices were speaking when one suddenly rose above the rest.
"Like hell you are going to give them to him again, not if you say he doesn't really need it!"
Bill looked at Fleur. "I think that's Miriam," he said. He sat up straighter and looked as though he wanted to get up.
"Stay there," said Fleur. "I will go find out what she wants."
But before she could even get off of Bill's bed, Miriam strode through the wards, eyes blazing. She looked Bill up and down and nodded, apparently satisfied that he was in one piece. Her eyes took in Fleur sitting on his bed and their clasped hands and she nodded again, satisfied with that as well. "About time," she said. She rounded on the healer who had come through the wards with her. "You see? He's perfectly fine. The restorative potions are more than enough."
"What's going on here, Miriam?" Bill turned sideway in the bed and put his feet on the ground.
"Oh no, you don't," said the healer firmly. "You are not nearly ready to get out of bed. Your legs won't support you yet."
Bill didn't disagree, and by the meekness with which he quietly lay back down, Fleur suspected his strength did not yet match his bravado. She straightened his pillow and took his hand again. He gave her a grateful smile and lay back. "Thank you," he said quietly. He looked at his boss. "Miriam?" he asked again.
"The want to give you another round of the expulsion potions," Miriam explained. "Even though the healers all agree that their tests have shown no residual curse inside you. It's procedure they said." She grimaced with disgust, as if to say exactly what she thought of the healers and their procedures.
"'Zey want to give 'im the silver and the black again? To make sure the curse is really gone?" Fleur looked from face to face, trying to understand if there was a need to be worried.
Next to her, Bill shuddered. "I will take them again if you think there is any chance some of the curse is left," he said. "But if you are only following procedure without any consideration to whether I actually need them . . ."
"Of course you don't need them!" Miriam interrupted. "They haven't been able to detect even the smallest trace of curse left inside of you. Fleur got that suffocation spell on you and then the potions down so quickly they think you would have survived transfer even before expulsion of the curse. And given the seriousness of what you were dealing with, that is saying something." Miriam turned to Fleur, admiration in her eyes. "Only your quick actions saved his life, and we all thank you for it."
Fleur nodded, unaccustomed to the praise, but feeling warm inside at Miriam's words. "I am glad it was enough," she said.
"Fine, fine," the healer said. "Restorative potions only." He looked at Fleur and Miriam. "He will need to take them every two hours for the next three days. He needs to rest in between and I suggest that the two of you go home as well. He can have visitors again tomorrow." He looked at Fleur. "No kissing until he has finished his potions," he said firmly. "Not on the lips." He bustled out and Miriam soon followed, leaving Fleur again alone with Bill.
"I am glad you do not have to take the black potion again," she said. "But I would 'ave stayed with you if you did."
"I am glad too, although it sounds like my hope for a good night sleep is gone." Bill took Fleur hand again. "We have more to talk about," he said. "Will you come back tomorrow? I told Miriam not to tell my family about this – my mum worries enough about Percy as it is."
"Of course I will come back." Fleur leaned down and gently bushed her lips against Bill's forehead. He shivered.
"Three days without kissing you is a long time," he said quietly.
Fleur ran her finger down Bill's cheek. "I will be sure to make it worth 'ze wait."
