All right, impatient ones... I think you'll like this. A few of you might kill me for the sheer (I'll use the word below)... but hey, it's for a good 'cause. :P

Sorry I'm a bit late. I had a OriginalFic bunny and it refused to leave me alone until I wrote it...

Chapter Ten: Whom Do You Think You're Fooling?

"You weell make yourself sick. I will never understand 'ow men can eat so much…" Fleur was eyeing her companion's plate of food with obvious surprise. "It is very 'eavy looking," she sniffed, pressing herself back in her seat, so as to be as far away from the offending sausages as possible.

Bill grinned. "You say that a lot," he observed, raising an eyebrow. "It's not that bad. Try some." He pushed his plate towards her, obviously quite serious.

"No, thank you." Fleur ate a bite of her own breakfast defiantly. She replaced his plate firmly across the table and straightened the rumpled, red tablecloth.

He shrugged carelessly. "Your loss…"

Fleur stretched wearily in her seat, hiding a yawn behind her napkin. She then set the napkin firmly on Bill's side of the table so that she could resist the temptation to twist it into rags. He looked at her curiously, but said nothing and went back to eating his nasty, greasy food.

At least he had the sense to use his fork…

She shook her head. She was watching him eat? How utterly convoluted. Leaning her chair back, she began to tap her fingers thoughtfully. She had brought them here, hadn't she? There he was… waiting patiently to see why. Fleur grimaced, not altogether sure she liked that. She had to work everything out by herself because men were such idiots. They radiated their every feeling out into plain view and hoped that their ladylove felt the same way.

If he didn't want her, he'd have gone away by now. Right?

I suppose…

That was what the girls at school had told her, but it didn't apply to her. There was no man that didn't want her. She was a bragging right. The ultimate catch.

They never saw anything beyond that, Fleur thought resignedly, absently flipping a wayward strand of hair out of her face.

Maybe what hurt most of all was that they most likely went home to their wives after meeting her and told them what a frigid bitch they had met that day. No, she wasn't what they wanted. They wanted a good, plump woman that would laugh at their jokes and bring them ale.

She would never be like that.

But he was still here. He was intelligent to know he wasn't going to get a night with her, if that was all he wanted. So why was he still here?

She sighed, realizing that he just might be the only thing that made her mundane, lackluster job worth anything at all. He was quiet when she was upset. He had only laughed when she'd thrown that teacup at him. He made sure she wasn't lonely. Once, however, he'd crossed the line, and he knew it.

But, then, if he was anything like his little brothers… subtly and infinite patience were mostly likely not in his list of virtues.

Maybe that wasn't so much to put up with, after all.

His mother was going to kill him.

Bill felt the wild urge to laugh aloud at that thought. He was not afraid of his mother… well, yes he was (slightly) afraid of his mother, he just could stand her glare quite a bit better than the rest of the family… he had always, very gently, simply told her no when she started to treat him as she treated the boys that were still under her roof.

This… might be a touch beyond that…

Fleur was looking at him thoughtfully, her fingers drumming a pattern onto the table. She didn't look at all angry, which surprised him somewhat… one did not kiss a girl without her permission and get away with it. Particularly this girl.

But it had all gone quite a bit differently than he had expected. She hadn't slapped him senseless and called the aurors on him.

She had asked him to breakfast and was now staring at him, looking like she had no idea what to do. She was as conflicted as he was. He couldn't help but wonder… did he really just enjoy her company because she was so beautiful? What kind of a bloke likes a woman that throws dishes at him?

I guess a bloke like me…

Because she was about the farthest from a useless airhead that he could think of. She had a heart that matched her looks.

She was about the vainest thing he had ever met… but perhaps that wasn't so bad, after all.

Her fingers continued to beat their steady rhythm on the tabletop. He blinked, looked up at her curiously.

"You're being… quiet," he said plainly. "What's the matter?"

She looked startled. Her eyes narrowed for a moment. "You."

That took him aback… but he quickly masked his surprise. "Oh? What have I done now, then?"

Taptaptap… "You remember, when I first came 'ere… I told you zat I did not like you?"

He nodded. Somehow, the distance between them had just been halved.

"C'était un mensonge."

For the second time in as many days, he found himself kissing her. Only this time, he hadn't done it. And this time, neither of them made any effort to stop. Neither of them wanted to stop. Ever.

Cries of "Oi! People are trying to eat!" and laughing choruses of 'For he's a Jolly Good Fellow'… combined with a need for air… finally caused them to break apart.

There was silence for a moment… and then she laughed and rested her forehead against his, her arms still draped around his neck. He gently pulled her off the table… they were both half on it…and onto his chair. More disgusted protests greeted this action, but he didn't particularly care.

"Are we going to make a habit of this?" he asked wryly.

"I zink I would like that," she said quietly, sounding somehow triumphant and breathless, as if this is what she had planned all along.

He nodded slowly, giving her an odd smile. "I think I would, too…"

The word I was going to use? That would be cheesy. Really cheesy.

I am too tired to answer reviews, sorry! But you can e-mail me if there's something you just have to know. :)