Chapter Thirty-Six
"So, you say dinner's ruined?" Bill asked.
With his head propped up on one hand, Bill ran his fingers over Fleur's sheet-covered hip on a northbound quest. She was sprawled at his side in a tangle of sheets and pale hair, her eyes closed and her mouth curved up at the corners. Bill's stomach was grumbling about food, but other parts of him were quite content to stay just where he was.
"Oui, it will be leftovers for Christmas dinner," Fleur said without opening her eyes.
Fleur was always beautiful, but never more so than in the sated, disheveled aftermath of making love. This was a sight reserved only for Bill. If he were a better man, Bill would feel humbled to have such beauty freely laid before him, but he was nothing if not an arrogant bastard. His ego writhed in the manly glory at having satisfied this stunning woman so thoroughly.
Tonight, however, Bill's machismo was put on hold. He had a lot to be grateful for on this Christmas, not least that Fleur was as committed to him as she was beautiful. Forgiving might be a stretch, Fleur was not forgiving by nature. He was going to have to work at it, and not just in bed. He was going to have to set aside his brooding and accept the comfort his wife offered, even if he didn't feel he deserved it.
Fleur touched his face with light fingers. "What are you zinking, mon Bill?"
"That I'm a very lucky man." He kissed her fingers, then pressed them against his heart.
"Zat is very cliché. I zink you were brooding again, and I am very insulted. I let you make love to me, zen you are sulking." She pushed him onto his back and straddled him. "Did I leave you disappointed?"
With his arms flung above his head, Bill grinned up at his wife. Her hair draped over her shoulders, covering her breasts and hanging nearly to her belly button. Fleur pouted at him, her fingers walking up his chest. Meanwhile, he was consumed with an altogether different type of hunger.
"Disappointed?" Bill curved his hands around her bottom. "Never…but there's always room for improvement if you want to have another go…"
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The coy smile dropped from Fleur's face. "What is zat?"
She rolled off of Bill, securing the sheet around herself as he climbed out of bed and snagged his britches off the floor.
The banging sounded again.
"It sounds like the backdoor," Bill murmured. He buttoned his trousers and grabbed his wand. "I'll check it out, just wait here."
"Do you zink it is Ron?" Fleur bustled after him, the sheet like a toga.
"You'd think so with that timing. Stay here, love, or at least get dressed."
After a quick kiss, Bill raced down the stairs. The banging was getting louder and more insistent as he neared the kitchen. Obscured by the lace curtains, and silhouetted by the night, a tall figure stood on the other side of the door. It could be Ron, but then it could be Percy or even Dad. Or somebody else, and that was the chance Bill couldn't take.
"Declare yourself!"
"Percival Ignatius Weasley, third son of Arthur and Molly Weasley." His words were tripping over themselves. "I broke my leg falling off a broom when I was seven, and Mum mended it. Now hurry up and open the door please!"
Bill yanked the door open to see his little brother's bloodless, wide-eyed face on the threshold.
"Quick, Bill, we've got problems."
Turning on his heel, Percy sprinted off the back porch onto the beach. Shoeless, Bill followed, spotting the burly shape that could only be Oliver Wood supporting a third person. Percy fell in step with his friend, helping him with his burden. With no heed for the cold air against his bare chest or naked feet, Bill's mind tried to puzzle out who the third person could be, but his wonderings came to an abrupt halt at the sound of an agonized scream.
"Lumos Maxima."
Light flared over the beach to reveal a very pregnant woman practically being dragged along the sand by Oliver and Percy. It felt like an eternity as Bill's mind processed the absurdity of the scene before him, but it was only a moment. He rushed forward, already creating a stretcher as his feet moved.
"Here," Bill said. "This should be easier for everybody."
Oliver braced with his knees as he hefted the woman up and onto the stretcher.
"Don't leave me," the woman whimpered, clutching Oliver's hand.
Meanwhile, Oliver looked as if there was nothing he wanted more than to be shot of this woman, but he did his duty and held onto her hand.
"Friend of yours?" Bill asked with a smirk.
"This is not the moment to take the mickey," Percy snapped.
"Right. So, we're in labor, are we?"
"Bill, so help me, if you don't get us into the bloody house right this instant, I will personally let Oliver beat the shite out of you," Percy said.
With a flick of his wand, the stretcher bore its burden back to the house where it was met with a fully dressed Fleur. The laboring mother groaned, crushing Oliver's hand. Fleur stood on the woman's other side, her lips folded into a flat line for one moment, before she pointed to the parlor.
"In zere," she instructed. "Percy, zere is a basket full of supplies in my stillroom, fetch zem, s'il te plaît." She marched after the stretcher. "What is happening?"
Oliver glanced up. "A bunch of Snatchers were after her and her husband."
"Where is he, zee husband?"
"Dead."
Horror replaced Bill's sense of absurdity as he glanced at Percy who was bustling into the room with Fleur's cache of supplies. Bill helped his brother spread sheets across the rug, wondering how Percy and Oliver just happened to come across a wizarding couple in danger.
"I see," Fleur said calmly. "And now she is in labor?"
Fleur's question was met with another scream from the woman.
Bill lowered the stretcher onto the sheeting, then Vanished it. Fleur knelt by the woman, taking her hand, brushing hair from her forehead. In the face of his wife's calm, the woman was nearly hyperventilating. She was very pale and her eyes glassy.
"Bonsoir," Fleur said soothingly. "My name is Fleur, and I am going to help you and your bébé. What is your name?"
"Mary."
"Ah. Mais oui. Mary, we shall see about having a Christmas baby, non?"
The woman shook her head. "No, no, no. I can't." She gritted her teeth, arching her back against the pain. "I—Mike is gone—I can't do this without him."
"Zis Mike, he is here. He is part of your baby, and zat is why you must do all you can to deliver zis baby safely. For your Mike."
Mary began to sob, but it was cut off by another contraction. Bill couldn't help but notice how quickly those contractions were coming. This baby was on its way.
"Zis is our friend, Oliver," Fleur told Mary, beckoning the young man over. "He will stay wiz you while I prepare for zee little one."
When Fleur stood and turned to Bill, the mask of calm assurance was gone. She hurried into the kitchen, Bill and Percy following in her wake. Standing at her butcher's block, Fleur's hands shook.
"Bill, go get your mother," she instructed, her face pinched with worry.
"Mum?" Percy croaked. "I-I can't see Mum."
"Do not be a coward," Fleur snapped.
Agreeing with his wife's harsh words, but having no time to add his own, Bill turned on his heel and raced up the stairs two at a time. He threw on the jumper that he'd discarded earlier. It was but a moment to pull on his socks and boots, his mind narrowing to focus only on what he needed to do next. Fetch his mum, of course. If there was one witch who knew about birthing babies, it was Molly Weasley.
There was no time to waste, judging by the screams from the sitting room. Bill heard Oliver's low murmurs as he strode through the kitchen and out the backdoor. He didn't envy the younger man his job. The idea of watching Fleur labor with their child was frightening, but a total stranger? That was terrifying. Bill shook off his thoughts as he reached the Apparition point on the beach. A quick turn, a bit of determination, and he was standing near the Burrow's orchard. He ran through barren trees, over hard packed dirt, barely feeling the cold wind that whipped at his skin. Mum's name was already on Bill's lips before he crashed through the door of his childhood home.
A half-dozen people were roused, each of them pointing a wand at Bill.
"Son," Dad said, pushing ahead of Mum and Ginny. "Whatever is going on?"
"I've no time to explain," Bill said. "But I need Mum. Hurry, please."
"Of course," Mum said, she trundled down the stairs, to be blocked by Dad's outstretched arm. "Arthur, really! Bill, what is the trouble? Is it Fleur?"
"No, Fleur is fine, but maybe you should grab some blankets and nappies before we go."
oOo
As Bill was rushing out of Shell Cottage to retrieve his mother, Fleur went to the library to consult her Magi-Medical book. She had been nine when Gabrielle was born, and Fleur remembered some things about pregnancy and birth from that time. Lambing season on her papa's farm usually coincided with her Easter holiday, but Fleur did not suppose that delivering a human baby was like birthing a lamb. In all honesty, Fleur felt a little frightened of what she was about to do and needed a moment to calm her nerves.
Her eyes flew over the words in the book, her brain cataloguing information about contractions, dilatation, and potions. Meanwhile, her mind's eye showed Fleur her maman, resplendent and round in pregnancy. In the final days, Maman had glowed with health and beauty, but young Fleur had been worried.
"What is it, my girl?" Maman asked.
Clenching her small hands, Fleur starred at her mother's large mid-section. "Are you not afraid? Will it not hurt?"
"But of course it will hurt, but I am not afraid. The pain will only last a short time, and then I will have another beautiful child."
Fleur tried to smile, but her face must have betrayed her for Maman brushed her hair back and smiled tranquilly.
"Giving birth is the most natural thing in the world, my love, and we Veela, we are of nature, no? Always trust in nature and your Veela blood will guide you."
Fleur was pulled from her memories by screaming. Snapping the book shut, she raced back to the sitting room, only to collide with Oliver half way there. She bounced off his solid chest, staring up at him in surprise.
"Um, she needs…." Oliver pointed to the sitting room. "I don't…. She isn't…. C'mon!"
Fleur whisked past the burly young man. "Where is Percy?"
"Gone."
Tsking, Fleur put her brother-in-law out of her mind. It was just as well that he was gone. What lay ahead of them on this evening was woman's work, and surely having one less male clod about was a good thing. Striding into the sitting room, for one mad moment Fleur wondered if she should get rid of the sofa and chairs and turn this room into a surgery.
That moment of silliness fled quickly. Mary was on all fours on the floor, panting and crying. There was a wild energy in the room. It pressed on Fleur with edges of panic and sorrow. It felt like a whirlwind that was quickly escalating to full-scale tempest. Tossing the Magi-Medical book into the nearby chair, Fleur braced herself against the storm of emotions.
The baby could not be delivered safely if the mother was hysterical, this much Fleur knew. She pictured in her mind calm waters, warm sun, and cool breezes. If she could make Ron feel miserable, then surely she could make this woman feel calm. Remembering what her magic felt like when Fleur plunged her fingers into the foamy dirt, she projected a sense of serenity as she knelt before Mary.
"Chérie," Fleur said throatily. "Let us get you out of zese wet clothes. Oliver, will you build up zee fire, s'il te plaît."
While Oliver did as he was told, Fleur helped Mary onto her back, then Vanished layer after layer until the woman was clad only in a t-shirt. Still she whimpered, her breath catching as each contraction came, but the storm seemed to have quieted in the face of Fleur's magic. It was draining to focus so much of her Veela magic, but Fleur concentrated on the work at hand and not on the sensation of energy seeping from her body.
"What can I do?" Oliver asked. He was at Mary's side, seeming much less likely to panic.
"Hold Mary's hand," Fleur said gently as she pushed the other woman's knees further apart. Placing one hand on Mary's belly, Fleur noted that it tightened with contractions at an alarming rate. With the other hand, Fleur checked Mary's cervix. The book had said a witch was fully dilated when an entire hand could be inserted, and then it would be time to deliver.
Looking at Mary, Fleur forced a smile. "I zink zis baby is ready to be born."
"No." Mary shook her head, tears rolling down her cheeks. "No, it can't. It wasn't supposed-ah!"
Projecting more calm, Fleur wished fervently that Bill would return with his mother.
oOo
Under a Disillusionment spell, Percy stood on the edge of Fleur's garden, shaking in the cold. He was colder on the inside than the wind that buffeted him. There was simply no doubt about it, he'd royally messed up this time. Fleur's accusation rang in his ears—coward. He was, utterly and completely so. But the look of rage mingled with disappointment on Oliver's face as Percy rushed out of the door might have haunted him more. This wasn't the first time he'd walked out on Oliver in his time of need.
Merlin knew what Bill would think when he returned home.
Yet, for all of his cowardliness, Percy hadn't been able to escape more than twenty feet from the house. What if something went wrong? What if they needed him? The what ifs kept Percy nearby. Though, if he were honest, he wanted to see Mum, but he didn't want to have to face her. Merlin, he really was a coward.
Two figures moved up the beach—the tall, lean one appeared to be pushing the smaller, rounder one through the gate and up the stairs. As they came into the light that was shining through the window of the backdoor, Percy got a glimpse of his mother's face.
He was a bloody idiot.
oOo
Bill rushed his mother through the messy kitchen into the sitting room where Fleur was kneeling between the laboring mother's legs and Oliver clutched the woman's hand. The moment he crossed the threshold, Bill could feel the magic in the room. The anxiousness that had been burning at a low level in his gut eased away. Looking at Fleur, there was a dull, grayish light emanating from her, and yet he struggled to produce the correct amount of concern.
Glancing at his mother, he could see that she, too, felt the magic and its effects. Just as if she were sitting down for a cup of tea, Mum knelt beside Fleur and smiled.
"I zink she is ready to deliver," Fleur said.
Mum nodded, then looked at Mary. "What's your name, dear?"
"M-Mary," the woman said, then grimaced in pain.
"Well, let's get you in a more comfortable position. Bill."
Under Mum's direction, Bill and Oliver helped Mary into a semi-sitting position, supporting her on each side.
"Now," Mum said, "when you feel a contraction come, I want you to push."
Fleur started to get up, but Mum put a hand on her shoulder.
"I-I'm rea—ahhh!" Mary yelled through gritted teeth.
"Now!" Mum said. "Push! One, two three…."
Mary crushed Bill's hand.
"Four, five, six, seven…."
Glancing over, Bill saw Oliver close his eyes.
"Eight, nine, ten. Rest."
Mary panted, her hand slackening around Bill's.
"When you're ready," Mum said.
Another contraction came, and there was more screaming and hand crushing. Bill didn't know how much time passed, but after the fourth attempt at pushing, Mum told Mary to rest for a while. The woman leaned heavily into Oliver, trembling and crying softly. At Mary's feet, Mum and Fleur had their heads together, whispering, but Bill heard the words "nothing is happening." Fear ticked up his throat, over the force of Fleur's magic.
"Move," Mum instructed, scooting across the floor to take Bill's spot supporting Mary whom she addressed next. "Dear, you are pushing from your chest. I need you to push from your pelvis, just like you are taking a poo, isn't it? Now, on the next contraction."
With Mum clutching one hand, Mary bared her teeth and began pushing once more. She didn't scream this time, instead she grunted, her chin sinking into her chest and her face turning red. Meanwhile, Fleur's brow was puckered in concentration, mouthing the numbers in French, but once she reached "dix," she smiled.
"Good!" Fleur gushed. "Mary, I can see zee head. Zee-zee baby has black hair, I zink!"
"We're getting there," Mum said to Mary. "One more time."
On the next push, the head crowned. The scream that came from Mary curdled Bill's blood. As long as he lived, he didn't think he would forget that particular register of pain. He locked eyes with Oliver over the heads of the women in a silent, but thankful, agreement that they were born without uteruses. As quickly as the scream came, Bill was being pushed into service again as Mum went to kneel by Fleur once more.
"The baby's crowning, love," Mum announced. "One more push. You can do it!"
Mary screamed anew with the next contraction, her hand like a vise around Bill's.
"Head is out!" Fleur announced with a wide smile.
"Alright," Mum said to Fleur, her face puckered in worry. "You have to guide the shoulders out, one at a time."
At that pronouncement, Bill was decidedly glad it was his job to support the upper half of the mother. Mary was breathing heavily, sagging between Bill and Oliver after her great effort. In those few seconds, Bill really looked at the woman. She was probably about his age, though he didn't remember her. Pale skin, black hair, button nose, she was pretty. But there were also shadows under her eyes and hollows in her cheeks. Life had been hard for her in these last months, when rightfully she should have been enjoying her pregnancy.
A new cry rent the air. This one the desperate and confused squall of an infant taking its first breath.
Bill looked at his wife, whose face was radiating with a golden glow as she gazed down at the naked, blue form in her hands. Spindly limbs moved jerkily, unaccustomed to its new freedom. Fleur cuddled the baby to her chest, rubbing his skin with a blanket that Mum handed her until the baby began to turn pink.
"It is a boy," Fleur said. "And he has black hair, Mary, just like you."
Mary looked curiously at Fleur, a half smile on her face. It seemed almost an afterthought when Fleur passed the bundled baby into the other woman's arms. Between the two of them, one would have thought that Fleur was the one who had just become a mother.
"He doesn't look like Mike," Mary said, but she kissed the baby's head.
oOo
After the placenta had been delivered, Fleur was glad to let Molly take over. Instructing the men to move mother and child to the master bedroom, Molly had bustled up the stairs nattering about clean sheets and nightclothes and sanitary napkins. Meanwhile, Fleur knelt on the floor in her sitting room, basking in the glow of having just delivered a baby.
She felt winded and drained from having used so much of her Veela magic. At that moment, Fleur did not think she could so much as light her wand. Yet, her magic had served her well. Maman had been right, trusting nature and her Veela magic had guided Fleur in the right direction, with the generous help of Molly Weasley, of course.
The moment the baby had slipped from his mother's body into Fleur's hands had been the most wondrous of Fleur's life. Holding that wiggling ball of sinew and energy had been like holding her wand for the first time. It felt so right, so natural, so powerful. Joy, like the kind Fleur had only ever known on her wedding day, had blossomed in Fleur's heart and pumped through her veins. Even now, she could feel its remnants tingling in her fingers and toes.
"Oh, Fleur," Molly said, bustling in with a pile of white cloths pressed to her bosom. "Haven't you moved yet?"
Pushing to her feet, Fleur smiled at her mother-in-law. "I needed a moment to zink."
"You did very well, dear."
"I am not zee one who had zee baby." Fleur laughed.
"Well, no, not this time, but it was very brave of you to just jump right in like that. And you kept your head, which isn't an easy thing to do."
Blackness crowded around the edges of Fleur's sight. She pressed her hand to her head. "Where was my head supposed to go?"
"Are you well, dear?" Molly's voice sounded as though it was coming from miles away.
Fleur tried to nod, but instead it felt as though she was falling.
oOo
"You overdid it."
Sitting on the edge of the settee, Bill watched as his wife blinked her eyes. He'd been in the bedroom, helping to settle Mary onto fresh sheets when he'd heard his mum calling. Racing down the steps, alert to new disaster, Bill had seen Fleur's limp body in Mum's arms. His heart had fallen into his boots.
"Too much Veela magic," Bill said lightly, but he meant it as an admonishment.
"Did I faint in front of your mother?" Fleur asked.
"Yes."
"How humiliating."
"It gets worse. She thinks you need tea."
Fleur scowled.
Bill picked up a cup and saucer, smirking at her. "It's lucky I love you and filled this with wine then, isn't it? Although a cup full of tea is what you deserve."
"I did not mean to worry you," Fleur murmured, pushing herself into a sitting position. "But Mary was hysterical, I had to do something!"
"You were amazing, as usual."
Fleur smiled a little bit. "Oh Bill, delivering zee baby…zat was amazing."
"I could tell. I didn't think you were going to give him over."
"Non," she shook her head. "I-I felt like I was where I should be."
For a moment, Bill just looked at her from under his lashes. She was glowing again, her smile wide and unfettered. Pride filled Bill for this capable and talented young woman he was smart enough to marry. He could hear the awe in her voice, and he understood it. That was how he had felt the first time he broke into a cursed tomb. It was how he felt when he saw Fleur walking towards him in that white dress and veil. Bill linked his fingers through hers, the happiness he felt for Fleur shining in his eyes.
"Oh good, you're awake."
Bill turned to see Mum stride into the room.
"You gave us quite the scare, young lady," she admonished, wagging a finger at Fleur.
Meekly, Fleur took the teacup full of wine. "I am very sorry."
"Well, see that you don't do it again. Bill, I should be going or your father will worry. See me out."
Despite the pleasantness of Mum's words, Bill heard the command behind it. The woman had followed him out of her house and into the cold with hardly an explanation, he reckoned he owed her one. Not that he had much of an explanation to offer. Now that the baby was born and the house was quiet, Bill realized that he had no idea how Percy and Oliver came to be standing on his doorstep with a pregnant woman.
Trailing Mum into the kitchen, Bill braced himself for what was coming.
"Where is Percy?" Mum spun on her heel to face Bill, her mouth pursed and her brown eyes blazing.
This was not what he had been expecting.
"P-Percy? I don't know—"
"Save it, William. Oliver Wood doesn't just show up in your home without Percy far behind."
That was a good point.
"Mum—"
"What are you up to in Shell Cottage? You don't come to Christmas, but then you show up begging my help because you've got a woman about to give birth in your parlor. Who is she? Where is her husband?"
"I don't know who she is other than her name is Mary, and she is Muggle-born. And the husband—he was killed. Tonight, I think."
"And how did she end up here?"
Bill sighed, leaning one hip against the counter. "All excellent questions, Mum, but I'm afraid I don't know the answers to all of them, and the rest I can't answer."
Just then, Oliver walked in. He looked around, his shoulders up around his ears as if he were trying to make himself smaller. It was futile, Oliver looked like the proverbial bull in the china cabinet, but he at least diverted Mum's attention from Bill.
"Uh, it's been grand," Oliver said, and rubbed the back of his neck. "But I'm supposed to report to Puddlemere early tomorrow. So…."
"Oh, Oliver," Mum gushed and went to kiss his cheek, hugging him tightly as if that would somehow extend the gesture to her wayward son. "Thank you for all of your help. That young woman seemed very comforted by your presence."
"Don't know why," Oliver muttered.
"Maybe it's all of the muscles," Bill teased, reaching around his mother to pinch Oliver's bicep.
"Bill," Mum scolded and slapped his hand.
Oliver blushed and looked away. It suddenly hit Bill that he was treating Oliver like one of his little brothers. Or more importantly, that Oliver hadn't been treated like a little brother since April. Guilt rushed through Bill as the other man ambled out the door. He wondered when was the last time Oliver had seen his brothers?
"Keep your secrets, Bill," Mum huffed as the door banged shut behind Oliver.
One guilt was replaced with another as he looked at his mum. "Sorry, but it's better if you don't know too much."
"As if I don't have enough to worry about."
When she already had seven children and a war to worry about, could the weight of one more concern really make a difference? Bill was afraid the answer was "yes." How much could one woman bear before she broke? Even a woman as strong as his mum.
"Just…. Just tell Percy that I miss him," she said. "And if he wants to come home, he is welcome."
Bill shook his head. "You know Perce, he's so full of pride and stubbornness."
"I know. He's no different than rest of you lot."
"I think the problem is that he rather doesn't see it that way."
Mum clucked her tongue. "He's not wrong in some ways."
Suddenly, Bill saw Percy's point of view. It wasn't that Percy thought he couldn't go home—hadn't he tried last Christmas? Yes, he was an idiot to think he couldn't look Mum in the eye, but Percy was the same and different. He had all of the Weasley's worst qualities, and none of the good except the intelligence. He couldn't walk into the Burrow and hope to charm Ginny to his side or kid the twins out of hating him. All of Percy's best qualities were quiet and unappreciated by his rowdy siblings. Percy was going to have to prove himself if he hoped to mend fences.
Bill saw his mum out the door with a heavy weight on his mind.
oOo
"Oliver! Wait!"
The burly Keeper whirled around, shoving a wand into Percy's throat.
"Bloody hell, Percy!"
"Sorry," Percy muttered, hands up.
Only moments ago, Percy had been standing on the beach, trying to catch his best mate before he Disapparated. As usual, Percy was too late. The best he could do was Disapparate himself into the street near Oliver's Puddlemere building and hope he was correct about his mate's intended destination. Now the two of them stood under a street lamp outside a brick walk-up, a clock chiming midnight somewhere in the distance.
"Sounds like this miserable holiday is finally over," Oliver muttered, stowing his wand away. "Come inside before you freeze your bollocks off."
They didn't speak again until they were inside Oliver's flat. Two large duffle bags with the Puddlemere United crest sat by the door, along with a matching equipment bag. Percy looked from the bags to his friend. This was why he was so keen to catch Oliver. He had to apologize before Oliver left for France.
"I just wanted to say that I'm sorry," Percy said. He pushed his glasses up. "For walking out. I panicked, I reckon."
Oliver just stared at him for a moment, then stuck one hand in his jeans pocket. "Perce, why is it easier for you to apologize to me than your own family?"
Percy flapped his lips for a solid thirteen seconds, completely lost for words.
"If you want my forgiveness, then make up with Bill, at least." Oliver took Percy by the shoulders and turned him towards the door. "Now, I'm knackered, and I want a shower, and I bloody well don't want to see you until I get back."
"Say hello to Catriona and Katie."
"Wee social visit that it is."
Percy laughed. "Audrey and I are together now."
"Oh?" Oliver's hands fell off Percy's shoulders. "Did she tell you about Fred?"
Percy turned to face his friend. "Yes."
"Sorry, mate, for not telling you."
"I think you were right. I think it needed to be Audrey who told me."
"And you're okay with it?" Oliver asked.
"I think so." Percy shrugged. "I can't spend my entire life competing with my brothers, can I? Besides, Audrey's with me, not Fred."
Oliver shook his head. "I like Audrey, you know that. If the two of you don't bollocks this up, you might be good for each other. But take it easy, Perce. For both of your sakes. And go visit your brother. Now, get the hell out of my flat."