Bill was nothing if he was not determined, and he had Fleur in his sights. He stopped at a florist on the way to work.
"Flowers for a Weasley? Whatever next!" The man jested and Bill sent the old family friend a knowing smile.
"Come on Bill, who is she?" He asked and Bill let out a sigh.
"Well that is for me to know and for you to never find out." He told him and dropped the coins into his hand. The man chuckled and wished him luck as he strode out of the shop.
Tulips, light purple tulips. They had stood out to him as soon as he had walked into the shop. He was unsure why, but a rose or a lily would not do. He wanted something a little unexpected.
Fleur sat at her desk and read through the letters for the day. She would be busy, she was sure of it and she was glad for that. Bill was late, as had become his schedule. She couldn't stop thinking about the hard, hot feeling of his chest against her cheek, the way his hands rested on her hair ever so gently.
She wished she could tell him how she felt, how she wanted to run her hands through his hair and sit in his lap and so many other things that she could never admit. But she couldn't, she could never bring herself to say those things out loud.
Bill loved how her cheeks burned a light shade of pink when he placed one arm behind his back and used the other to extend the flowers towards her.
"I saw these and thought you might like them." He told her and she took the blooms in both hands and brought them up to her nose. He adored that sight, of her flushed cheeks, nose pressed into the fruit of his love, it made a satisfied smile grow on his face.
Fleur let out a breath as he made his way down the hallway. She hadn't realised she had been holding her breath until her lungs were filled once again. Flowers, he had given her flowers. She tried to think of all the reasons a man would give a woman flowers. Perhaps he was giving thanks for having a drink with him the night before, or maybe he truly saw them and thought of her. She avoided the obvious reason, the one that glared her in the face. It couldn't be that, surely.
In between her errands for the goblins, she made time to go and give him water. Each time she would place her hand on the back of his hair and guide the straw into his mouth. It seemed a straw was far more effective.
They sat and had lunch together, in what was becoming a routine for them.
"I think if I had gone to Hogwarts, I would have been a ravenclaw." She told him and he grimaced and shook his head.
"No no no, you would have definitely been a gryfindor." He told her and she shook her head.
"Why must everyone be a gryfindor?" She asked and he sent her a suggestive look.
"Because if you were then we would have shared a dorm." He wiggled his eyebrows and she shook her head dismissively.
In the afternoon, Bill began work on a nasty little object, clearly cursed by a very powerful witch or wizard. He knew he would be in for the night. So he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and kicked off his boots.
Fleur hadn't seen him all afternoon, so she went to see how he was doing. She cracked the door open a sliver and peaked in. He was as he usually was, hunched over some object or another. But this time, he was stood over a work table, rather than sat on the floor.
He heard her enter and wondered if she had brought more water. He had grown rather reliant on her kindness, and was now used to the routine sustenance that she brought him. He smiled as much as he was able as he felt the straw against his lips.
"You know, it is almost sunset. We should leave soon." She told him. He loved when she said 'we', it filled him full of the hope of the life he had envisioned for them.
"I have to keep working on this. You go home. Walk safely." He told her and she shook her head.
"I don't want you to be here alone." She told him and he chuckled, oh the nights he had been stranded in the bank in Egypt, there were too many to count. But, he would never say no to company, especially hers.
He didn't flinch as he felt the handkerchief against his brow and then, she pulled his hair off of his face with a kind of hairband and he wondered what he must look like.
"I'm going to be over at the desk." She whispered to him and he gave her a small nod.
Bill attempted to concentrate solely on the amulet, which was not difficult, as it was proving to be rather tricky. He both loved and hated that Fleur was there with him. On the one hand, she hadn't walked home alone, which was a relief for him. But on the other hand, she was in the presence of such an evil item.
She would leave periodically to fetch water and later food. Bill munched on a strawberry and that was it, but Fleur nibbled on a sandwich and drank a cold butter beer. Once the moon had fully ascended into the sky, she had kicked her shoes off and removed her belt, realising that they were in for a long night.
She finished a whole novel and also answered some of her correspondence for the following few days, and some time deep in the night, she curled herself in the chair and slept momentarily. When she awoke, Bill was still at work and she had to stop herself from staring at him. The veins in his arms quivered as he concentrated and she watched as the sweat dripped from his brow. He was magnificent, in his element and she wondered how she had managed to find him.
Bill finally broke the curse with a great exhale. He rested his hands on his knees and stumbled backwards. A pair of small, supple hands were on his back then, smoothing the back of his shirt. She led him over to the chair and helped him to sit and then she placed a glass of water under his nose, followed by a sandwich.
He had never been taken care of in such a way. He felt so unworthy of such attentions, especially from her. But, when he looked into her crystal blue eyes, he saw such determination, such concern, that all of his apprehension was washed away.
"What time is it?" He asked and she chuckled.
"Sunrise passed a while ago." She told him and he went rigid.
"I need to get you home." He attempted to stand up. But she placed her hands on his thighs, holding him down.
"You're not going anywhere until you recover, and then I'm taking you home." She pointed her finger between them and Bill sighed, nodding, knowing he would have granted her anything in that moment.
He sat and slurped his water as she took the amulet in her hands. He felt slightly anxious, watching her hold such an evil item. But he had purged it, and it had tried to purge him too.
"Who was it cursed by?" She asked and she shrugged his shoulders.
"No way to know, really. Whoever it was was not messing about." He told her, rubbing a hand along the back of his neck.
She knew better than to ask about the curse or how he broke it. She was sure It was a fine art that she was not sure she wanted to learn the intricacies of. She walked across the room and picked up his dragon hide boots. They seemed so huge as she held them. She went back to him then and knelt between his legs. She smirked to herself as she watched him freeze and his cheeks burnt a deep crimson.
Bill had no idea how to react as he watched her slip his feet into his boots. Half of him wanted to insist he could do it himself. But something about her small hands lacing his thick boots made something in him dance for joy.
Fleur glanced up at him and was shocked to find his eyes boring down into hers as she tied the laces. It felt intimate in a way she could not comprehend. When she was finished and she placed her hands on her thighs, unsure what to do with them. He stood then, towering over her and she felt a shiver travel down her spine. He offered her his hand and she took it, allowing him to lift her from the ground.
It was lucky that Bill had performed his all night curse breaking on a Friday, as the bank was empty as they emerged from their underground workplace. Fleur had not been joking when she said she was going to take Bill back to his house. He had hesitated for a moment. But she was Fleur Delacour, she was known to be a witch in Dumbledore's favour and there was no way that he would be angered by her presence in the secret house.
Fleur couldn't believe it. One moment the house was not there and then suddenly, there was a door for them to enter through. She had expected him to wish her goodbye at the the door, as he had at her house so many times. But, he opened the door for her and waited for her to enter first.
Her mouth fell agape at the victorian interior design and the beauty of the house. It was stunning, in deep tones of green and muted brown. But more than anything, she noticed how quiet it was, how empty it seemed.
The house that she stayed in was nothing to brag about, but it was always filled with the whispering sounds of witches conversing in the kitchen or the distant sound of a shower. But in this place there was nothing, just the empty silence that could only fill the hollowness of such a large space.
She removed her shoes at the door, which made Bill chuckle. But he joined her and untied his laces. He mourned something in that moment, as if undoing what she had done was letting go of that beautiful exchange.
He showed her the living room. Truth be told, the only room he ever really spent any time in was his bedroom. But he could not invite her there, it was wholly inappropriate. He sent her a humbled grin as she let out a huge yawn.
"You really didn't have to stay with me all night." He told her and she shook her head.
"Of course I did." She countered and he found he had no argument to such simple words.
Fleur sat on the sofa and waited for him to return, after he had excused himself. She felt very nervous, being in such a large house, alone with him. Being alone at work somehow felt so much less intimate.
He searched for another bedroom that was fitted with bedsheets and found nothing. He sighed, rubbing his hand over his face. He would have to do it, there was no other option. He went and collected her from the living room and led her to his bedroom.
"You sleep. I'll crash on the sofa." He told her and opened the door for her. Her face was the shade of a freshly plucked apple as she was left alone in his room. It smelt like him, all musk and mint. Part of her felt as if she was living a secret fantasy that she had wished to fulfil since she had first seen him. To be in his bedroom, his most intimate, personal space. Well, that was special.
She sat on the bed first and then shook off her nerves and pulled her dress over her head, leaving her in a thin turtleneck and her underwear, along with her socks. She shivered against the early morning cold. Although it was summer, England could never boast much of a seasonal shift and she felt herself huddling into the sheets.
She rested her head on the pillow and involuntarily sighed, inhaling deeply. She wished she could bottle the smell and keep it with her. It had the power to soothe and calm her and soon, she was lost to the dream realm.