Fleur hummed determinedly, though the tune faltered and choked more than it came out clearly. She stopped several times to take in shaky breaths, fighting back the burning tears threatening to spill over, but every time she resumed the simple tune. She didn't even know what it was. Maybe she was just making it up as she went. There was no way to know when she was so focused on humming that she was barely conscious of it.

She dipped a pristine white cloth in the bowl of warm water, soaking it thoroughly. The fabric was a little rough against her fingers as she wrung it out. She'd have to be careful with it. Under the soft light from her wand on the bedside table, Fleur turned to where Bill was propped up by a number of pillows.

Eyes closed, his breath came in scattered rasps from open lips. His skin was a sickly grey, the gashes across his face and shoulders still seeping blood that ran in rivulets. The collar of his shirt was hard with blood, the stains thick and dark.

As gently as she could, Fleur dabbed at the largest of the gashes. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she remembered something about not disturbing the cuts too much while scabs were forming. The only way for the bleeding to stop was for clots and scabs to form. It was the only way for him to heal.

As she continued her work, Bill suddenly flinched, his eyelids fluttering and a soft noise of pain escaping him.

"Sorry, sorry," she whispered, withdrawing the cloth.

He mumbled without opening his eyes. "It's fine."

Unable to keep from smiling just a little that he was responsive, Fleur spoke again. "How do you feel?"

He took a few moments to answer, his brow creasing as he tried to figure out exactly what he was feeling. "Foggy."

"You were given an elixir for pain. That's probably making you feel a little bit confused and tired."

"Could also be the fact that a werewolf clawed my face."

Fleur was a little shocked but then a giggle escaped her. The more he proved to be lucid and aware, the more she relaxed. There was less and less to worry about. She just needed to get the gashes a little cleaner.

"Yes, it could be that," she agreed.

She returned to dabbing away the blood. He turned his head, so it was a little easier for her. His eyes slowly opened, very blue under the wand-light.

"How bad is it?"

"Hm?"

"How bad are the cuts? Am I completely disfigured?"

"Not completely," she said with a teasing note in her voice. "I will still be beautiful enough for the both of us."

He laughed, smiling despite the way it pulled on his injured face. "You most definitely are, sweetheart."

"I just need to get the blood cleaned up and change your shirt," she said, wiping at his face again. "Where are your clean ones?"

"Top drawer of the dresser," Bill answered automatically before realizing where they had to be if she was asking. "We're in my room?"

"Oui."

He laughed a bit. "Does my mother know you're in here?"

"Yes. Yes, she does. You missed the big fight about it. She was furious I insisted on being in here."

"Don't worry too much about her. She was just worried and lashing out at whoever was nearest."

"Technically, your sister was nearest."

"Oh, she would never lash out at Ginny. She's the precious, long-awaited daughter," he said, no bitterness in his voice. "When you're the youngest and only daughter of seven children, you tend to get special treatment."

"I wouldn't know. I'm only one of two."

"It would be much easier to only have one younger siblings. But I don't know which one I'd keep," Bill said, talking mainly to distract himself from the stinging pain all over his face as she worked. "Charlie works with dragons and that's a fun thing to tell people. Almost no one works so closely with dragons. Percy is probably the most book-smart person I've met. He knows just about everything. Fred and George… well Fred is a bit of a terror, but he does it creatively. George is similar but he's probably less likely to mug you in an alleyway, but they're both funny and have the best stories. Ron, surprisingly, is a pretty good cook. He makes really nice scones. And of course, Ginny is my sister and could beat any of us at quidditch."

Fleur smiled as he talked, finishing cleaning his face. "I wish I could meet more of your brothers."

"I'm sure the twins will show up at some point. Charlie lives in Romania though and Percy is somewhat estranged as of late. I don't think you'll meet them anytime soon."

"Estranged?"

Bill sighed. "He fought with Mum and Dad about a lot of things. They don't talk anymore, and he won't reach out to any of us. I think he writes to Charlie occasionally though."

"Does he live nearby?"

"Down in London, last I knew."

"Perhaps you should visit him," Fleur said, unbuttoning his shirt. "Can you sit up a little so I can get this off you?"

He did so, his head lolling forward as he struggled to hold himself up. Fleur cupped his face for a moment before hurrying to remove the shirt and let him back down against the pillow mountain. She brushed her fingers against his skin.

"You feel warm," she said in concern. "I think you might have a fever. I'll get you something for it."

Fleur got to her feet, but Bill stopped her. "Where are you going?"

"You need more medicine. It's all down in the kitchen."

"Just accio it. Please don't go anywhere."

She could hardly refuse. She sat back down and picked up her wand. A quick flick and a vial of a dark green liquid came sailing in. Fleur plucked it out of the air and pulled out the little stopper.

"Open your mouth."

Bill obeyed and she let a few drops fall onto his tongue. The response was immediate. He screwed up his face and made a disgusted noise.

"Ugh, that tastes like feet," he said.

She giggled. "And how do you know what feet taste like?"

"The answer to any question like that is that I have five brothers."

Fleur pulled a bit of a face and shook her head. "I'm glad I have no brothers then. I have a few cousins but it's not the same."

"Once we get married, you'll have plenty of brothers."

"And we are definitely still getting married," she said, half to herself with a note of ferocity.

Bill looked at her in slight confusion. "Is that a question?"

"Of course not. Don't worry about it," she said, wetting the cloth again to clean the blood from his shoulders and chest. "It's just part of the argument I had with your mother. She assumed the wedding would be called off because of this."

"It'll have to be postponed."

"Postponed is hardly cancelled," Fleur said.

"Why would she assume cancelled?"

Fleur pursed her lips before answering. "She assumes that I care what you look like and that the scars will bother me."

"Will they?"

"I care that you were hurt, of course. I don't care that you have a few scars. Everyone has scars. I have scars."

Bill smiled, watching her as she collected him a clean shirt. The room was dark, and her silvery hair seemed to glow under the wand light from the corner. It made it easy to keep track of where she was, especially as his eyes were still cloudy from blood loss and exhaustion.

"You need to sit up again. I can't lift you."

"I don't know if I can lift me either," he said, but heaved himself upright, groaning a little. His shoulders shook with the effort required to hold himself there.

Fleur moved as quickly as she could, slipping his arms one at a time into the sleeves and pulling it up over his shoulders. The moment she was done, he was back against the pillows.

"I'm sorry," she said, "You don't have to move again for the moment." After bandages were put over the cuts, she would buttoned the shirt up. "How are you feeling?"

"Better."

"You should sleep," she said, brushing his hair off his face. "I'll finish putting bandages on your face."

"Sleep?"

"Yes, you need sleep to heal."

His eyes closed, his breathing coming much easier. Fleur smiled and took a moment to simply watch him. In the light from the wand, his skin looked whiter than usual, though some of that was likely blood loss and the greyness of injury, and it only made the clean cuts stand out all the more. His eyelashes were a pale red and usually almost invisible. The shadow cast across his cheekbones showed how long they really were. The steady rise and fall of his chest reassured her.

Her humming resumed, this time more relaxed and actually a recognizable tune. As she hummed, her hands worked. She cut bandages to the right size, each one intended for a cut on his face. Her work was slow and methodical, but she got it done.

There was nothing to do but get it done.

The brush of fingers against her hair pulled Fleur from a light sleep. She moved a little, the feeling of a woolen blanket under her cheek. Not quite ready to surrender her sleep, she made a noise of protest and tried to let herself slip back under. Whoever was touching her hair had other ideas.

Bill twisted her hair about his fingers, chuckling a little. The sound was deep in his chest, but it was enough to draw her back again. She lifted her head, blinking blearily to get past the clouds in her head. Slowly, Bill's face came into focus.

"Go lay down properly, sweetheart," he said as she sat up, rubbing her eyes. "You'll hurt your neck if you sleep against the bed like that."

"I'm staying here with you," she said.

"You need your sleep as much as I do."

She nodded, deciding she was too tired to argue with him. "Okay. I'll find someone else to sit with you. I'm sure your mother won't mind if I get her up."

"No, I think we can come up with a better solution," Bill hurried to say, pulling on her shirt hem as she got up. "You can share with me."

"I think your mother will definitely mind that."

Bill didn't care. "She won't know. Come on," he said, shifting himself over to the wall. "You'll be more comfortable here than in Ginny's room anyway."

Fleur couldn't argue with that. Not willing to put up more of a fight against what she really wanted to do. She took her spot on the other half of the bed, stretching out her cramped legs and resting her head on Bill's shoulder. It had barely been there a moment before he shifted her slightly.

"Something wrong?" she asked, her eyelids starting to feel heavy again.

"It's just more comfortable with your head there. Now get some sleep," he said, wrapping an arm around her and pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Are you warm enough?"

"Yes, you're very warm at the moment."

"I did it just for you."

Fleur started to laugh, then lifted her head in sudden concern. "Wait, your fever-"

"It broke a while ago. Please don't give me any more of that foot flavored medicine," he said.
Giving him a suspicious look, Fleur pressed the back of her hand to his forehead to test his honesty. Then she checked either side of his neck just to make doubly, triply certain. As far as she could tell, his temperature was normal – though maybe a little warmer than usual after being wrapped up in blankets for hours.

"Okay, I believe you," she finally said, settling back down and taking care to put her head where he had previously positioned it. "Go to sleep."

Bill laughed. "I thought I was the one getting you to sleep?"

"Maybe tomorrow, William."

"I'll hold you to that."

She giggled sleepily, her eyes already closed. He kissed her forehead again.

"Je t'aime pour toujours," he whispered softly.

She smiled. "I love you too," she said.

And then she was asleep.