AU! Muggle.

Warnings: an accident happens.

WRITTEN FOR QLFC, SEASON 9, ROUND 12

Puddlemere United

Chaser 1: the last words your soulmate will ever say to you are printed on your arm

Optional Prompts:

(dialogue) This isn't what I wanted.

(word) helpless

(word) destined

WC: 2528


Behind him, a man called out, "This isn't what I wanted."

The blood in Bill's veins froze. He glanced down at the black words inked on his left arm and clenched his eyes as he waited for the speaker of the not-so-ominous words to suffer some kind of harm. Bill was too scared to turn around and face him.

Bill heard the same man say, "Hey, boy, I'm talking to you. I didn't order this. All I wanted was a bloody Guinness!"

After hearing the man's words, Bill breathed a sigh of relief. A tall, dark-haired man leaning against the bar counter with a small Cosmopolitan in hand. In a pint glass, Bill poured out the drink and hurried over to the man. "Sorry, mate," he apologized. "We're understaffed today."

"Thanks," the man muttered, taking his drink and walking to his table in the corner.

He took deep breaths to calm himself and rubbed his hand over his left forearm, his heartbeat slowly returning to normal. Hearing the words 'This isn't what I wanted' never failed to terrify him, and considering that he worked in a pub where people often said these words, Bill wondered how he hadn't died of a heart attack yet.

He loved and hated the words written on his arm. While the words meant he would find his soulmate at any time, they also implied that he would probably lose them after they spoke them. Bill's heart stuttered every time someone said the same damned sentence near him, and fear would wash over him. He would hold his breath, helpless, unable to act.

"Three shots of your finest Fireballs, my good man," a familiar voice said, breaking Bill out of his reverie. He rolled his eyes as he turned towards his brother, Charlie.

"What are you doing here?" Bill asked. His hands moved automatically to fill the shot glasses with the deep amber liquid.

Leaning against the bar, Charlie was already tipsy as he said, "I'm ready to impress the ladies." His red curly hair was dishevelled, and his collar was unfashionably popped up. Bill thought Charlie looked ridiculous, but he didn't voice his thoughts. Charlie continued, "Watch how they'll ooh and aah over me as I drink these straight."

"You're an idiot." Okay, Bill did voice his thoughts sometimes. He shook his head, already turning to fill the next shot.

Charlie corrected, "An idiot who's about to get laid," before winking at Bill and stumbling back to his table, which was surrounded by a gaggle of scantily dressed girls. Bill rolled his eyes at Charlie's antics as he spilt half of his drinks on the floor.

"Is that your brother, Monsieur?" a soft, decidedly feminine voice said, with an accent clearly not from England.

Bill's breath hitched as he turned his head.

An astonishingly beautiful woman stood near the bar counter, causing the air inside the pub to seem eerily still. She was tall and willowy, with blonde hair that shimmered like spun gold, and skin that glowed like the light of the full moon. Her eyes were as deep and blue as the ocean; Bill found himself thinking he would gladly brave shark-infested waters just to gaze into them. The small smile on her lips sparkled in the dim light of the pub, as did her teeth.

It was love at first sight for Bill.

"Monsieur?" She spoke like an angel—or perhaps angels sounded like her.

The woman was French! Oh, the gods above were smiling down upon Bill.

Gawking at her, he didn't realize what she had asked. Rolling her eyes, the woman reached forward to snap her fingers in front of his face. Bill flinched back and blinked rapidly to clear his fuzzy mind.

"I'm sorry. What did you say?" Bill couldn't turn his gaze away from her.

"I was just asking if that was your brother."

"Unfortunately...yes."

As the woman's tinkling laughter echoed through the pub, Bill couldn't help but glare at the sight of the men staring at her. He wasn't a possessive man, but his instincts demanded that he protect her from their leering. Within seconds, this woman had turned his life upside down.

"Why do you think it's unfortunate?" the woman asked, leaning over the counter and smiling up at him.

"He's embarrassing. Look at him," Bill said, consciously keeping his tone light and playful.

The woman looked over her shoulder at Charlie, who stood on the table and wiggled his hips while singing something unintelligible at the top of his lungs. He spilt another shot on the girls laughing around him.

"I see. It's good that he has you for a big brother, yes?" Seeing her eyes glint with mischief, Bill's stomach clenched.

"I'm flattered that you noticed him but are talking to me instead." Bill gulped, his ears reddening at the realization of what he'd just said.

She teased, leaning over the counter, "Maybe I want him."

Bill shook his head. "Please, God, no. He still sleeps with his stuffed dragon. Shit, don't tell him I said that."

When Bill heard the woman's laugh again, his heart soared. He had made her laugh!

"You're so quick to dismiss him. Are all brothers like this?"

"If it involves the most beautiful woman in the world, yes."

"You're funny," she murmured, lips twitching into an unusually beautiful smile. She extended her hand towards him. "I'm Fleur."

"Bill." He took her dainty hand and raised it to his lips, pulling out all his moves for her. No way was he letting her go. Just by smiling, she had him hooked, and he didn't care one bit at how stupid that sounded.

"I'll have a Black Raspberry Margarita," Fleur said, her hand still in his.

Bill murmured, his eyes fixed on hers, "I'll give you the world if you just ask."

She laughed again and pulled her hand away. "How about just a margarita for now?"

Bill turned around and began pouring the liquids into the cocktail shaker. He was so busy trying to impress her with his prowess that he did not notice her sidle off to meet her friends. It wasn't until he turned around to give her the drink that he saw her standing with a small group of people, hugging them and kissing their cheeks.

He pouted when she didn't come back to him right away. The green-eyed monster reared its ugly head when one of the men wrapped his arm around Fleur's waist and brought her closer.

"I'll have a Blackberry Smash," a redheaded woman said, snapping her fingers at him and bringing him back to reality. She narrowed her eyes at him and barked, "Hey, I said I want a Blackberry Smash! Do your job!"

He gritted his teeth and turned around to make the rude woman's drink. Continuing to stare at the man whose arm was still around Fleur's waist, Bill could not help but glare. Who was he? What allowed him to hold Fleur so intimately? In what way did they know each other? Why wasn't Fleur paying Bill any attention? Didn't she want her drink?

With a huff, the redhead took her drink and walked away. Fleur turned around and smiled at him. Bill grinned, hoping she would ignore the man by her side and talk to him instead. Fleur picked up the glass when she returned and drank from it.

"This isn't what I wanted."

The words didn't even register with him when she said them. His only thought was that he had screwed up. "Shit," he said. "I'm sorry. That other woman probably took your drink. I'll whip you up another."

Fleur waved him off without saying a word. She smiled as she walked back to her friends, drink in hand. Grumbling about his bad luck, Bill ran his fingers through his hair. His eyes stayed fixed on her. He watched as she laughed at something her black-haired friend said.

When her phone rang, Fleur put it to her ear. Gesturing to her friends, she got up and walked out of the bar, her hips swaying sensually with every step she took.

Gods, she was beautiful. She was way out of Bill's league; there was absolutely no chance of him dating her.

Bill was still sulking when a loud screech, followed by a horrifying shriek echoed around the bar. His heart was in his throat as his head snapped up at the sound. In his fear, he jumped over the counter and ran for the door, his instincts screaming that something was very wrong. Those two sounds were never a good sign.

Bill caught himself in the door of the pub. He felt the earth fall beneath his feet as he stared at the carnage on the street before him.

Due to the force of impact, the black car's front end had crumpled against the side of the building, pushing two feet of metal back into the car. The windshield had imploded, shards of glass strewn inside. The steering wheel and dashboard were both compacted into one mangled mess. The rear passenger door had been violently ripped from its hinges, and the front two wheels were sent flying into the dark night.

Fleur was pinned beneath the car, her head twisted in an odd direction like a broken doll's, blood streaming down a cut from her forehead.

Metal groaned like an anguished cry of some wounded beast, and the car shuddered once before falling to its side.

Screaming in pain, her face scrunched, and she let out a haunting and heartbreaking cry. Bill yelled, "Fleur!" and ran toward her, careless of his own safety.

No, no, no. Not her. Please. Anyone but her. No...

There was little damage to the driver other than cuts and scrapes from the crash; he was still strapped firmly in the driver's seat.

Smoke hung in the air, leaving behind an oily taste. Dark fumes filled the car, causing Bill's throat to burn and his eyes to water. He had to get Fleur out.

He joined the efforts to lift the car, wasting valuable seconds before realizing that the car lay on its side, pinning both the door and Fleur to the ground.

Flickers of yellow flame appeared from between the twisted metal of the engine.

Bill tried to reach Fleur from the other side of the car, but he could not.

His lungs were burning from inhaling so much smoke; his eyes were red and raw, and tears poured uncontrollably down his face as he struggled to drag Fleur away.

"Please, please, hold on," he pleaded, clawing at the metal, and the sound echoed in the suddenly silent night.

There was a rush of hot air and the fire spread to engulf the roof of the car. The heat became unbearable in seconds.

The shock of the fire gave way to terror. Bill's mind reeled; he wished Fleur would live! There was no way he could lose her.

Not now. Not now. Please. Save her. Please.

Bill kicked at the car while coughing violently and ignoring the pain in his foot. Absent-mindedly, he wondered if anyone had the sense to call Emergency Services. Suddenly, sparks of flame fell from the roof, burning into his face, his hair, and his hands.

With the weight of the car continuing to bear down on him, his arms began to fail. His brain was starving of oxygen, and he was on the verge of passing out. If he did pass out, he and Fleur were guaranteed to die.

Bill heaved with a great deal of effort, lifting the car up marginally and screaming as he felt his body fail him. Turning to look at the horrified onlookers, he screamed for help. Charlie stumbled over and dragged Fleur's burnt body out from underneath the car. Bill let the car go but remained coughing and spluttering until he could draw a single breath and his vision cleared sufficiently.

Yet, he was still in danger; if the fire reached the petrol tank, the explosion could take his life. He knew to get out of the blast radius, he had to move further away.

Bill struggled to his feet but was almost immediately in danger of falling back over. He had to focus on putting one foot in front of the other. Small steps were all he could manage.

Charlie wrapped his arm around Bill's waist and said, "I've got you."

The car exploded when they were less than fifteen feet away. A huge ball of orange flames erupted from the vehicle, sending fragments of hot metal flying hundreds of feet into the air. The brothers were flung forcefully from the ground by the force of the heat, thrown like discarded toys away as it hit them from behind. He landed on his shoulder and lay still, his body twisted and broken.

Against the night sky, thick black plumes of smoke rose from the burned car; occasionally, something would crackle or pop.

Bill couldn't believe he was still alive. He lay exactly where he had fallen, looking up at the sky, unable to move. This was more than luck, he decided; this was destiny.

As he examined the arm beneath the leather of his jacket, he noticed an odd lump that stuck out from the elbow of his right arm; it was bent at an odd angle. Even though his arm was completely broken, he was unable to feel anything.

He didn't know what else might be broken. His spine could be damaged, he might have head trauma, undoubtedly, he was still in shock.

Fleur suddenly came to mind. On his hands and knees, Bill dragged himself towards Fleur's broken body.

He wrapped his arms around her blood-spattered body and pulled her closer to him. As he sobbed into her bloody hair, Bill ignored the screams and cries of those coming towards them.

Fleur's eyes fluttered open for a moment, the stormy blue gaze haunting him. Her fractured hand trembled as she raised it and touched his cheek with her bloodied fingertips. Streams of tears ran down his face as he closed his eyes and kissed her softly.

His voice was scratchy and hoarse as he whispered, "Hold on for me. Please."

Fleur's lips twisted into a sad smile as Bill sobbed harder, knowing that she would not survive this crash. Her burnt sleeve revealed the words inked on her arm.

Hold on for me. Please.

There was no doubt in his mind that she was his soulmate. And he was going to lose her. His face was buried in her hair as he rocked back and forth, holding her in his arms as her body finally became limp in his arms.

How could she have been taken from him in such a way? He had just met her, so why was it destined that he would lose her? He didn't even know her last name. He knew nothing about her. He did not know her dreams, her hopes, her desires, or her fears.

She was gone.

His soulmate.

Gone.

Dead in his arms.

Couldn't save her.

Dead.

And Bill…

Bill had never felt so helpless.