Fleur sat and moved her weight from one side to the other. She had watched him leave, out through a large iron door. She wondered where he worked, what he did. She couldn't imagine him working in a bank for any reason. But, by the time he was gone, it was too late to ask him. It seemed that was one of his key skills: disappearing.

She took the liberty of wandering about the maze of rooms, after she had finished her work for the morning. Most doors were locked shut and she pressed her hand lightly on the iron structures, which were cold to the touch.

It felt rather lonely down there. All of the goblins were up, dealing with the members of the bank and yet she was down here, in the dimly lit basement, with no one else to speak of.

Her thoughts halted when she heard a muffled curse. It was unmistakably Bill Weasley. She felt her cheeks blush as she heard him mumble the words her father had always prohibited. She turned and began to walk away, a little shy of the man.

Bill heard the footsteps. They were light, yet squeaked and he wondered who would have worn such shoes on a marble floor. He peeked his head out of the door and smirked to himself, seeing a beautiful head of blonde hair bob down the hallway.

Lunch time rolled around and he sat in a small sandwich place, with a cup of cold butter beer. He had seen the cheese sandwich unwrapped on her desk as he had left. But she was nowhere to be seen. He tried to think of where he had seen her before. He was sure that he would not have forgotten her if it had been a significant meeting, but he could not unearth the memory in his mind.

Fleur tucked her romance novel under her nose as she nibbled her sandwich. So much for an interesting summer. But that was not the main goal, was it? She simply needed to improve her English.

Her head snapped up as she heard the door swing open. Then came the distinctive footfall of dragon hide boots and then she saw him, with a paper cup in his hand, all rolled sleeves and dishevelled hair.

Bill stopped at her desk and felt his cheeks flush as she gazed up at him. He hadn't been thinking when he had bought another butter beer to go. He thought it was rather lonely for her, down in the basement of Gringotts, reading old letters.

He placed the cup down on her desk and sent her a small smile.
"I thought you might like it." He mumbled, wondering where all of his confidence had disappeared to. He loitered as she took the cup in both of her hands and raised it to her face, under her nose. She smelt it and her eyes fell closed in a way that made his breath hitch.
"Thank you very much, Mr Weasley." She sent him a very formal reply and he rubbed his hand against the back of his neck.
"Please, call me Bill." He insisted and she nodded, her eyes flitting up to his over the edge of the cup and then she sent him a small smile.
"It is delicious." She told him in barely a whisper and he was dumfounded, rendered utterly useless. After shaking himself back into consciousness, he pointed at her lip, his other hand deep in his pocket.
"You have something-" He gestured to the space above her lip and she jumped, her cheeks burning in an embarrassed fashion, as she placed a handkerchief against her mouth.

He left then and shook his head. Oh, you've gone and done it now, you plonker. He thought to himself. He had never paid so much attention to a woman who was not related to him, but he had had to tear himself away from her, wanting to stand at her desk and gawk at her all day.

Fleur sipped the butter beer until it was all gone. She had tried the drink when she had been at Hogwarts, but somehow it tasted sweeter knowing that Bill Weasley had bought it for her. She shook her head, attempting to dislodge the scent of musk and the deep brown eyes and the large hands. It was wrong, wholly wrong, she should never think of him in that way, he was her superior.

She ran around, helping goblins with paperwork and fetching items from the office for special members. It turned out that the job was rather enjoyable and it seemed with every smile she sent a goblin's way, they softened, ever so slightly.
"Go and check if William Weasley has finished the item." One of them insisted and she felt her hands shake as she approached his door. She knocked and the door swung open. She found him, sat on the floor, legs spread, with a book in his hands. His hair was hanging over his face and he had undone some of the buttons on his shirt.
"I-I'm here for the item." She stuttered and he pointed over to a table.
"It's over there. I can't move just yet." He told her and she nodded, knowing that she would have to go over and fetch it.

Bill smiled to himself as she climbed over his legs. He continued his enchantment on the book in his hands and heard the door close gently as she left. She was so polite, so well-mannered that he wondered if any of her manners would rub off on him.

Fleur took the pocket watch to the goblin, who inspected it with skeptical eyes.
"Hmm, it is good work." He mumbled, to himself more than anyone and then dismissed her.

She felt a small sense of pride, knowing that Bill had done a good job. She had never thought of him as a curse breaker, it was such a serious job, so dark and twisted. But then, he did wear a fang in his ear, not to mention the scar that graced the side of his face.

She wanted to be of use and help to him, so after a while, she carried a glass of water to the door and knocked and once again, it swung open. Bill was still there, incapacitated on the floor. She sighed, going over to him.
"You need to drink." She told him and his eyes did not leave the book. She shook her head, she didn't know what she would do if he fainted from dehydration, especially in such a humid room. So, she placed a gentle hand on the back of his head and brought the glass to his lips.

Bill was in disbelief. He needed to drink, that was for sure and he was used to being exhausted and sick every time he broke a curse. But it seemed that Fleur was determined for him to get what he needed. Her touch was so gentle on the back of his head and the water was cool and smooth as he gulped it down. As he finished the glass, he felt her hand move in small, subtle strokes on the back of his hair and felt a sensation he had never felt before, the touch-starved part of himself that he never wished to admit existed flared and screamed out in pleasure.

She left once he finished the glass and cursed herself, she had never taken control of a situation like that before. She had just wanted to ensure that he was ok, but it had felt far more intimate in the moment. She shook her head as she sat back in her old chair and then let her forehead fall into her hands.

Bill finished his charm and wondered what time it was. Two curses broken in his first day, it was a record and yet, that was not what his mind focused on. He touched the back of his head, where her small hand had rested and then he touched his lips, where she had pressed the glass and he let his eyes fall shut. No one had ever looked after him like that before.

He found her, still at her desk.
"It's a little late for you to still be here, isn't it?" He asked, looking down at the clock and he felt confused as her cheeks began to burn.
"I wanted to wait to make sure you were alright." She admitted and he couldn't hide the bashful smile that touched his lips.
"Well, I'm off now. Why don't I walk you home?" He asked and prayed that she would agree.
"Very well." She nodded and he sent her a small crooked smile.

They walked beside one another. Bill took her messenger bag from her shoulder and she sent him a thankful smile.
"I didn't know you worked at Gringotts." She told him and he chuckled shaking his head.
"I don't, I mean- I didn't. We can be first day friends." He told her and she looked up at him with her mouth pursed open in a small "o". He stared at her then, for a long while, attempting to find her in his memory.

She looked away after a moment.
"Can you pull your hair back?" He asked her in a small voice and she felt her brows furrow in confusion. She turned to him and stopped walking.
"I mean, put your hair back, like this." He showed her, pulling his hair away from his face. She felt her hands shake as she moved them to her hair and then she saw a moment of realisation flash across his features.
"The tent, at the Tri Wizard Tournament." He whispered and she released her hair. She had thought he hadn't seen her there. But now, he looked at her with such recognition in his face.
"That day-" She began and was unsure how to continue the sentence.

Bill watched her as she walked ahead of him.
"I didn't recognise you." He explained and she nodded.
"I'm surprised you remember me." She told him and he placed a hand on her shoulder.
"You're joking, right?" He asked and could see the questioning in her eyes.
"A man only sees a woman like you once in his life." He told her, holding up a single digit.
"And why is that?" She asked, wondering what he could mean.
"Because only one woman can be the most beautiful." He explained and she chuckled, rolling her eyes.
"You are a smooth man, Mr Weasley." She told him, shaking her head.

Bill let it go as he walked beside her. He supposed it did sound like a bad pick up line. But he meant it, those eyes, they tore back everything and looked into the soul of himself.

They arrived at the doorway of the girl's house and she pointed up.
"This is me." She told him and he joined her in the doorway, so close, towering over her. He slipped the bag onto her shoulder.
"I saw you too." She told him and he looked at her with such intensity she thought she might be burnt by him.
"I have never seen a man like you before." She told him and he sent her a small smile.
"Because I am so dashingly handsome?" He joked and she looked at him for a moment.
"Yes." She told him honestly, before leaving him, alone in the doorway, speechless.

She threw herself onto her bed and pressed her face into her pillow. Had she really just said that? She couldn't believe herself. She had never spoken that way to a man before. But when he was so close, he pulled the truth from her.

Bill walked in a daze. He had said it as a joke! Why had she agreed? That was not how jokes worked! And it seemed like a joke, the idea of Fleur Delacour finding him handsome. He was scarred and dirty and didn't shave as much as he ought. It was unthinkable.