A/N: This is a themed story written for Slytherin house in round 10 of the Houses Competition.

Prompt: Bill Weasley

Word count: 3071

Bill collapsed on his dilapidated, peeling couch, rubbing his face, not bothering to remove his jacket as he sunk into the soft material. He had just come back from a week-long conference in which he'd had to haggle a small fortune away from a council of vindictive goblins. Needless to say, it had been a long, trying day. He glanced at the clock. Corie would be here in just a few minutes.

Sighing and heaving himself up, Bill took out his wand, waving it in a complicated pattern to banish his parchment, quills, ink, robes, wizarding pictures, and letters to his trunk. His girlfriend was coming over for their monthly movie night, and it wouldn't do to have any signs of magic in the house.

Right on time, there was a knock on the door. Bill hastily shoved his wand in his pocket and went to answer the door, tugging at his earring nervously. In the doorframe stood a short woman with tightly curled, dark brown hair and bright hazel eyes– "Corie," Bill breathed.

"Bill," she said, though it was muffled as she was pressed to his chest in a hug.

"Happy anniversary, darling," he said, pressing a kiss to her lips.

"Bill–"

"I don't have flowers or anything but–"

"Bill!"

"Yes?"

"I, um– well, this is rather awkward– I don't even know why I came here– I guess to tell you in person–"

"Tell me what?"

"I, well– I– I can't do this anymore."

"What do you mean, this?"

"This relationship."

"What– why? What happened?"

"I don't know– I may have– accidentally–"

"What?"

Corie took a deep breath and spoke in one big rush. "I may have accidentally slept with someone else, but that's not the point–"

"You what?! How is that not the point?! You cheated on me?" Bill stared at her, hurt.

"Bill, I'm sorry– I don't know how it happened, but I want to fix this–"

"I can't believe you! Why?"

"I don't know– it just–"

"Actually, I don't want to hear it," he said, his voice quiet. "Please leave."

"Bill, I–"

"Please leave. And don't bother contacting me again."

Corie walked to the door, hanging her head shamefully. "I'm sorry," she whispered, her hand on the doorknob and one foot in the hallway. "Goodbye, Bill."

.oOo.

Bill stared out his window, wrapped in a cocoon of blankets, at the small village of Ottery St. Catchpole. He closed his eyes. Against the dark insides of his eyelids, he could recall large hazel eyes staring at his own. He buried his head in his hands and shoved down the sting of tears and the lump in his throat. She cheated on you. She left. Accept it and get over her.

Luckily, he was saved from the burden of dwelling on the subject when he heard, "Bill?" There was a knock at the door. "Bill?" Mrs. Weasley asked softly. When he didn't respond, she took the liberty to enter his room anyway. He looked up from where his head had been buried. His mother carried a tray of steaming hot chocolate and soup, as if he were sick.

"How are you doing, sweetie?"

"Thanks mom, but I really just feel like wallowing in self-pity right now," Bill said with a tight-lipped smile that was more of a grimace.

Mrs. Weasley tutted. "Now, we can't have that, dear. I know you're hurting, Bill, but really, you can't do this to yourself."

"A whole year, mom!" Bill raged suddenly. "We were fine for one whole years and then she just suddenly decided that she was through?!" He threw off his blankets and grabbed an old, battered Quaffle of Charlie's, tossing it against the wall with rhythmic thuds.

"I know, sweetheart, I know," she said, setting the tray down and methodically beginning to fold the blankets. "It doesn't make sense to me either. But sometimes, I think people can fall out of love as well as in it."

Bill glowered at the wall, hoping he'd make a dent in it. "She could have just told me, though; she didn't have to go and cheat on me."

His mother fell quiet and paused in her folding, so that the only sound in the small room was the steady thud, thud, thud of the Quaffle. "You're right, she didn't."

It was awkwardly quiet for a minute before she broke the silence again. "Well, I came in here to ask you if you'd like to accompany me this Wednesday to Hogwarts. To see Harry in the third task."

Bill sighed and threw the Quaffle one last time. "Fine," he said, but he wasn't really complaining. "It'll take my mind off… her for a while."

.oOo.

"Surprise!" his mother said, beaming. "Thought we'd come and watch you, Harry!"

"You all alright?" Bill asked as he surveyed the room and his mother enveloped a dumbfounded Harry in a bear hug. He pushed away heartbroken thoughts in favor of conversation. "Charlie wanted to come, but he couldn't get time off. He said you were incredible against the Horntail."

They were in a small side chamber with the other champions and their families. A graying, ruddy-faced man and his small wife were talking with a tall, handsome seventh year, presumably their son. Bill identified him as Cedric Diggory, the Hufflepuff champion. Another couple, an extremely short man with a hooked nose and bushy eyebrows and a woman with long, pin-straight black hair, was talking to Viktor Krum, who Bill recognized from countless magazines. And the fourth champion– woah.

All thoughts of Corie flew from his mind as he gazed at the fourth champion– a tall, pale woman with high cheekbones and piercing blue-grey eyes– like silver, Bill thought. Her straight hair cascaded down to her waist in a mesmerising, blonde waterfall. But it was blonde in a way Bill had never seen. It shimmered and waved with all the grace in the world. She was chattering in rapid French to an equally beautiful woman and a short, plump man with a pointed, black beard who was holding the hand of a smaller girl who looked extremely like the beauty; Bill guessed they were her parents and sister. Bill was suddenly aware of his pity-party-induced, very Muggle jeans and band T-shirt and his ponytail and fang earring– and the fact that he was staring.

He averted his gaze at once, but he was not fast enough to catch a flash of blue and a hint of a smile. To take his mind off the blonde, Bill cast about for something to say.

"It's great being back here," he said rather loudly. "Haven't seen this place for five years. Is that picture of the mad knight still around? Sir Cadogan?"

Bill fell into conversation easily, desperately trying to ignore the feeling of blue-grey eyes staring at him. It was hard to resist looking back at the vision, but a painful, unbidden image of Corie swam into his mind, along with the sting of betrayal, and he turned away, focusing on providing Harry with moral support.

As the fourteen-year-old showed them around the grounds, pointing out the huge, skeletal galleon of a ship that sat on the usually smooth, reflective surface of the Black Lake, Bill gazed out onto the scenery of the grounds, his mind far away. It was amazing how when he had first seen her, the blonde had banished Corie from his mind. She was like a breath of fresh air, a sunny contrast from the cloud of rejection and hurt that had surrounded him in the past few days. Now the image of Corie and the emotions associated with it was back, the hurt and betrayal mingling with his new interest in this blonde Champion.

"Bill?"

"Hm?" He looked up, startled to find both his mother and Harry looking at him expectantly.

"Harry and I were just going in for a bit of lunch. Would you like to join us or–?"

"I'm gonna stay for a minute– enjoy the view. You two go on."

His mother gave him a small smile and an understanding nod and led Harry towards the castle, making amicable small-talk.

Bill returned to his view of the lake, ready to lose himself in his thoughts again when he saw her. Just across the lake, he could see her golden hair throwing glints of sunlight in the air, onto the water. She seemed to be introducing her parents to a woman the size of Hagrid, and standing next to a carriage as big as a small house. As the adults conversed cheerfully, the Champion turned around and oh, Merlin's pants, she's seen me! Bill quickly looked down at the water, anything to make it seem like he hadn't been staring. Really, he needed to stop that.

After a time of pretending to determinedly study the kelp and seaweeds, Bill was sure he hadn't been seen. Why was he so afraid of this girl? But, when he risked a glance up, his heart sped up– she'd given her parents the slip and she's walking over here, what do I do?!

"Hello?" she called. Bill held his breath, adamantly avoiding eye contact. "May I sit?" He jumped and looked up– she had moved closer, too close, and he craned his neck up to look at her. Her eyes were hesitant but hard, as if nervous but being stubbornly unwilling to show it. Bill moved his gaze from her eyes and nodded, his cheeks heating up. She sat next to him– Bill could feel her presence without looking– her legs straight out in front of her, revealing pale, porcelain skin. They sat in silence, Bill studying her legs, before she asked, "I saw you talking to ze Potter boy. You know 'eem?"

Bill blinked. "I– yeah, uh, he's a friend of my brother's." She nodded and resumed staring at the lake. Just to have something to say, and to break the silence, because he really did want to get to know her, Bill asked, "You're one of the Champions, right?"

"Yes," she replied. "Beauxbatons."

"And that's in, uh–"

"France. My accent does not geev it away?" she asked playfully. Bill blushed. She stuck out her hand. "Fleur Delacour."

Bill looked at the proffered hand in surprise. "Bill Weasley," he replied, shaking it. They fell back into silence, but it was friendlier now.

"Do you think you'll win?" Fleur looked round in surprise. "The tournament. Do you think you'll win?"

"I only 'ope I survive this maze they 'ave made," she replied. Bill swallowed nervously. Suddenly, the idea of her dying made his chest ache.

"Don't talk like that. You won't die."

"You are so sure?" He nodded. "You are sweet." Bill felt his cheeks heat up again.

"So, what do you plan to do after you graduate?"

"I would like to work in ze Gringotts," she replied.

"Really? You don't want to travel, or follow a creative passion or something? You just want to go into banking?"

"Where do you work?"

Bill opened and closed his mouth. He smiled, defeated. "At a bank."

She laughed. "See, eet ees not so – how do you say? – unusual. I would like to work with ze goblins and be a, uh, curse-breaker. I zink eet will 'elp me eemproove my Eenglish."

"I-it's very good already." It was Fleur's turn to blush. "But, I work with goblins a lot also, and I think you'd be good at it," he said, pretending to size her up.

"You zink so?" He nodded sincerely.

"Bill?" The redhead turned around to see his mother standing a few feet away. "Why don't you come in for lunch? The steak-and-kidney pie is amazing." Her expression left no room for objection.

Fleur gave him a small smile and he took that as his cue to leave. With a small, awkward wave he was led away.

"Mom, what was that?"

"Bill, I just don't think you should be flirting this early after you and Corie–"

"I was not flirting!" he protested, though he felt the thread of guilt usually associated with dishonesty make its way into his stomach. "I was just making conversation, being friendly!"

She raised one eyebrow. "Well, I couldn't help but think that both of you had more than friendship in mind." She stalked off into the Great Hall, and Bill was left to find that he didn't think she was wrong.

.oOo.

"Hey, Rodkoff, is this goblin-made?"

The old, ornery jeweler looked up with disdain and slowly, slowly took out his enchanted monocle before looking at the necklace. He lifted his head, a sneer obscuring his already-large nose. "No, you imbecile. This is obviously smudged here. Does goblin-made jewelry get dirty? No! How you ever got a job here..." he trailed off.

Bill huffed and turned back to his magnifying glass. It was the typical attitude he got from his goblin counterparts, but that didn't make him any less annoyed. Because he was the only human who passed his initiation test and began working at the British Gringotts establishment, he was resented greatly by his coworkers and they took any chance to belittle him and make him seem inadequate in the hope he'd be fired.

Bill had just thrown the necklace in the bin to take it to the correct vault when he heard the raspy, nasally voice of the head of their division, Lagnast calling him. "Bill Weasley? You need to come out here– there's a situation."

What dung has Rodkoff told them I did this time? he thought as he was led out of the room. But all speculations left his head when he saw who was waiting for him with Lagnast– it was Fleur.

"This is our newest employee," Lagnast explained as Bill gaped. "You're to show her the ropes, explain what she is to do and how it works around here. Make sure she doesn't mess up, or it'll be on you."

Bill could only nod as the head stalked off. Finally, he found his voice. "Fleur, what are you doing here?"

"I passed my test! I now get to work 'ere wiz you and be a banker! And you get to teach me!"

"Yeah, I get to teach you," Bill said, dazed. "Listen, Fleur, you have to understand something– they don't really like humans here."

She huffed dismissively. "I know zis. Ze admineestrator was very rude to me– 'e seemed to zink I would not pass. Do not worry, Bill, I can handle zis." And she strode into the jewelry room.

As the weeks passed, Bill realized that working with Fleur Delacour was very enjoyable but also very dangerous. She made jokes and laughed loudly, but that also got her, and subsequently him, into trouble. She was sweet and gentle with him and made him feel nervous and happy and put butterflies in his stomach, but she was also strong, fierce and powerful and stood up to goblins who tried to put her down and Bill knew better than to get in her way. But Bill was falling, face-first, head-over-heels, in love with her. Over time, he learned many things about her– she treasured Gabrielle, her sister, the most in the world; she didn't like French food, despite what people thought; she used a very slight amount of French hair potion to keep her hair super-shiny – that just made him love her more. His love for her was dangerous, because a war, the invisible storm of darkness that was Lord Voldemort, was coming and love could be used as a weapon against him.

Which was why, when he looked back on it, Bill supposed it was a very stupid thing that he did.

They were walking out of Gringotts, having just finished another day of work being harrassed by goblins, yet they were the happiest they could have been. And as Bill watched Fleur laugh at his imitation of Rodkoff, he decided that this, this right here, this was what he wanted in his life– to laugh with Fleur. And his brain became mush, ignoring the fear of a refusal, and he asked her.

"Do you want to go out with me?"

She became serious at once. "How so?"

"I just– I meant–" This was a stupid idea– she doesn't like you!

"You mean on a date?"

"I–" Bill took a breath and assembled a coherent sentence. "Look, Fleur, I really like you, and it would mean a lot to me if you would do me the honor of letting me take you to dinner."

Fleur looked at him with a small smile on her face. Finally, it turned into a full-blown grin. "Of course I will go out wiz you!" she said, and laughed her merry, infectious laugh. "You don't need to be so serious!"

Bill smiled sheepishly and blushed. "Well, I was afraid you would say no."

Fleur looked concerned. "Are you okay, Bill? Because I theenk something ees wrong with your eye– yes, you are blind!" she said, her worried façade falling in place of more laughter. "I have liked you for a long time!"

Bill smirked. "Really? Do tell."

It was Fleur's turn to blush. "Since we first met," she told him with a small, matter-of-fact smile.

"Same here."

"Eet ees stupid eet took us zis long," Fleur pouted. "So, when ees ze date?"

"I'm thinking… tomorrow after work. I know a great Indian restaurant."

"I like Indian food." Fleur smiled again, but this time she looked nervous. "Zank you, Bill."

"We haven't even been on the date yet," Bill teased.

"I have a good feeling," Fleur said. She seemed to hesitate and then come to a decision. Finally, she moved closer to him. "Zis might be doing it a beet backwards, but…" And before he could register what was happening, they were both leaning in and–

Their lips met.

Fireworks went off in Bill's stomach as his eyes fluttered shut. His brain seemed to shut down and the only people in the world were him and Fleur Delacour.

And suddenly, the warm pressure of her lips on his left and Bill opened his eyes. He schooled his face into as alert of an expression as he could muster to find Fleur looking up at him shyly, her cheeks stained with a light blush.

"I will see you tomorrow," she said. "Goodbye, Bill."

He watched her go, having bid goodbye to any fear of rejection.