Il faut que je t'aime

Black gloves

It is December, and it is wet and cold and grey. After six years spent in Egypt, except for occasional brief visits home, Bill is no longer used to the English winter. As he waits for Fleur outside the boarded up shop, he wonders ruefully how he managed to play Quidditch in weather like this when he was at school – and not just play it, but actually enjoy playing it. On days like this, he wishes he was back in Egypt.

Fleur spent last year at Hogwarts, and so has experience of a British winter, but she does not like it much either. She is sure that December in France never has this all-pervading sense of damp and dullness about it. She huddles in her too-thin coat as she hurries along Diagon Alley to meet Bill. She is late again – The Payne made her stay and finish cataloguing some receipts that could easily have waited until tomorrow. Fleur is getting tired of the way Miss Payne picks on her – she would never treat Gladys or Mary-Kate or Tallulah or even Gisela as she treats her – and Fleur is afraid that sooner or later (probably sooner) she will snap and say something to her boss that will land her in serious trouble. The thought does not improve her mood, and she is scowling by the time she reaches the shop.

Bill can see how cold she is even before she reaches him, and he unwinds his scarlet and gold Gryffindor scarf and wraps it round her neck as she gets to him, and pulls off his black knitted gloves and hands them to her wordlessly. She pulls them on, making a face at how much too big for her they are, and he gets out his wand and shrinks them to fit her, before pulling her into his arms and kissing her hard.

"Any warmer?" he asks with a smile as they pull apart, but she scowls and shakes her head.

"I 'ate ze weazzer in zis country," she complains bitterly. "I seenk I weell go back to France."

He puts his arms round her again and pulls her close. "Please don't. I'd miss you."

"Would you?" Fleur's bad mood is not lifting, and she makes herself go rigid in Bill's arms. She knows it is unfair to be mean to him just because the weather is nasty and because she has had a bad day, but obscurely being unkind is making her feel slightly better. "You would find anuzzer girl soon enough. You do not need me."

She feels his body stiffen and he pulls away from her, and she thinks that she has gone too far, that he will take her at her word and say: Fine, okay, go back to France if that's what you want. I'll find someone else.

But he doesn't. He holds her shoulders and crouches slightly so he can look straight into her eyes and says: "I don't want another girl, you lovely beautiful idiot. I want you. You're the one I love."

And there is a moment of stillness and silence between them, because he has never said that before. (And plenty of others have said it to her because all they can see is the way she looks, and not the person behind the pretty face.) And Fleur looks into Bill's eyes, and she knows that he means it, that he sees her behind her beauty, and that he would love her even if she looked like poor Gisela. (As she would love him if something happened so that he was no longer the best-looking man she has ever seen – though, of course, she hopes it won't, because she is vain enough to enjoy having a boyfriend whom others envy for his good looks.)

And she swallows, and blinks back tears, and lets him pull her into his arms again, and she whispers, "I love you too, Bill," as his lips meet hers.

It is a long time before they break apart this time, and when they do, neither of them cares about the weather any more.