Il faut que je t'aime
Butterbeer
"And I seriously think the Cannons have a chance of winning the league this year." Charlie looks at his brother sideways, wondering if this will get through to him.
"Mm? Do you?" Bill clearly isn't listening, and Charlie throws a pillow at him with some accuracy, causing him to slop butterbeer down himself and glare at Charlie. "What the hell was that for?"
"You. You're not listening to a word I'm saying. You've been miles away all evening. What's up, Bill?"
Bill merely closes his eyes and shakes his head, taking a gulp from the bottle of butterbeer in his hand. (They were drinking Firewhisky earlier, but Charlie has to be up at five in the morning for an early shift, and Bill has to Portkey back to England soon after, so they have decided that enough is enough.)
Charlie decides he needs to be direct if he is going to get any sense at all out of his brother tonight. "Why don't you just go ahead and ask her to marry you?" he asks, as if that is what they have been discussing for the last couple of hours, rather than avoiding the subject and talking about anything and everything else.
Bill frowns, and shakes his head again in frustration. "How can I, Charlie? We're in the middle of a bloody war. How can I involve her in that?"
"Strikes me she's pretty involved already," Charlie points out. "How would she react if you told her it was over and sent her back to France?"
"Sent her?" Bill asks, raising his eyebrows. "She wouldn't go. Fleur doesn't do things just because someone tells her to."
Charlie grins. "Glad to hear it." He becomes serious again almost at once. "Honestly, Bill, it's pretty darn obvious you're nuts about her. Does she feel the same way about you?"
Bill colours, but nods. "Think so."
"Then go ahead and propose, you idiot. She's probably wondering what's keeping you."
Bill laughs at last. "Quite likely. Can I cry on your shoulder if she says no?"
Charlie laughs too. "If you must, but I think I'm pretty safe there. She won't say no."