FIC: A Night of Wonder (Bill/Fleur)
Title: A Night of Wonder
Pairing: Bill/Fleur
Rating: PG/PG-13
Word Count: 1887
Summary: It’s Bill and Fleur’s first day at Shell Cottage, but it’s too quiet.
Author’s Notes: This was originally written for weasley_fest which actually ended ages ago and I just never got around to posting this on my journal. I will admit I'm glad this ended up going to the community and not to a particular person, because I... am really not fond of this. At all. :\ The only reason I'm actually posting this now is for the sake of archiving it. Feel free to drive on by.
Bill sat at the kitchen table, resting his chin upon one hand, and stared in the direction of the front door. He did not shift in the slightest and blinked only when he felt his eyes beginning to sting.
The door, he knew, would fly open in the next few minutes. He did not want to miss it.
Five minutes passed. The door had not opened.
Then ten minutes passed.
Then thirty.
Then an hour.
“Just a few more minutes,” he said quietly to himself. And he kept waiting.
Fleur had been silently bustling about the kitchen, trying to prepare leek soup and coffee without ever having done either before - in fact, she had never cooked anything in her life. Cooking was work, and Fleur had never been much for work. She regretted this now, as she lifted the spoon to taste the soup. It was too salty and had an awfully thick consistency.
Abandoning the stove, Fleur turned to Bill and watched him with sad eyes. She would not share her frustrations with him, for she knew that his were much, much greater.
“Bill,” she murmured, hoping she sounded comforting. “Eet ’as been very long. Zey will send word when zey can.”
“Right,” he grunted, and continued to glare at the door.
“Zen stop zat.”
Defiantly, he tried to remain as still as possible, but soon his shoulders began to shake, then his hands, and he simply could not stop the quaking. He slowly pivoted in his seat to look at Fleur.
“I - I can’t.” He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, not wanting to break down any further.
“You just ’ave,” Fleur said with a small smile. She put her hand to his face, which was warm and scratchy like a wool blanket. He shrank back.
“Why aren’t you watching?” he accused suddenly. “You should be watching just as closely as I am.”
Just as abruptly and snappish Fleur drew herself to her full height and whipped back to the stove. “One of us needs to be strong.”
“LOOK AT ME!” Bill roared, standing up as well, flailing his arms and beating his chest. “I AM STRONG. I’VE BEEN RIPPED APART BY A WEREWOLF. SO DON’T YOU TELL ME - ”
“Bill. You ’ave been zroo very much today. We cannot do anyzing now. We must be patient. Zat is all I am trying to say.”
The words seemed to have the desired effect on Bill, for he soberly sank into his seat, glanced at the door once, and then rested his head on the table.
* * *
There was an odd moment of stillness, a moment between gaiety and levity. Motion had reached absolute zero, save the air, which crackled with electricity. The people gazed up to look for the source of the disturbance and only saw the moon in broad daylight.
Something was here that was not supposed to be.
Night was coming all too swiftly.
* * *
“You know,” Fleur said at length, slightly more cheerful now that her soup had turned the proper color, “per’aps zey are already safe. Zey may not want to risk sending a message.”
Bill merely grunted. He had given up his watch, but had now taken to drawing out plans on the tabletop with his index finger. Currently he was attempting to remember the direction from which the Death Eaters had come when they attacked The Burrow. He wasn’t having very much luck. The last thing he could remember before they came was dancing with Fleur.
“Where do you theenk zey may ’ave gone?” she continued, trying to engage him.
“I dunno. Can’t think of anywhere ’sides Auntie M-” He stopped dead, horrified at what he was saying, jumped up from his place of rest, and began to run outside.
Fleur was quicker, though, and she pulled him back in by the arm with surprising strength. “Non. You ’ave checked twenty meenutes ago. Ze enchantments are intact.”
“Someone could have penetrated them without our knowing since then. They could be hearing everything we’re saying.”
“Eef a Death Eater were here, we would know zat.”
“Not if the enchantments have been breached.”
“But do you not theenk zat zey would ’ave captured us by now if zey ’ad broken ze enchantments?”
“Well, maybe they’re waiting for the opportune moment,” Bill said hurriedly, running out of excuses. “Like when my parents get here. Or something.”
“Non, you are seely, Bill. We ’ave purchased zis ’ouse many months ago and we ’ave made certain zat it would be well-protected before we arrived. You ’ave checked every twenty meenutes since we ’ave arrived and zey are still in place.”
At last, Bill conceded. “Fine. The Death Eaters aren’t here yet. But I’m still going out to check our security measures.”
* * *
There was no telling when it had started or who had started it or why it had started, but panic was in their midst, and it was a tremendously violent form of nature.
Oh, there were chairs and tables overturned and plates and vases broke as people trampled across the backyard, and screams broke out wildly and were cut short - but that was not what scared Bill. The grass seemed to have died and weeds grew ferociously tall and all the color in his new world had been wiped away. He watched as a daisy was ripped out from the earth by unclean hands.
Spinning around, he looked for his siblings, his parents, Harry, anyone would had seen something and could tell him what the bloody hell was happening. But he did not need someone to explain to him anything. He already knew.
He simply needed to see their faces. He needed to make certain they had safely escaped.
Within fifteen seconds his wish was partially granted; Arthur found him and rushed over immediately. He opened his mouth to tell Bill something, but then his eyes widened fearfully, and he dashed away at once, squeezing Bill’s hand as he departed.
Luck had not separated Bill and Fleur; they grasped each other tighter still as they both looked to see where Arthur had gone.
And then they found themselves nose-to-nose with a Death Eater.
* * *
Fleur finally managed to get the leek soup right, and with a great cry of exultation, placed a bowl in front of Bill. “Eat up!”
He sniffed at it morosely. “I’ve been bitten by a werewolf and I haven’t been able to stop thinking of raw meat since - and now you want to feed me leek soup?”
His wife frowned and proceeded to rap him on the head with the ladle. “Eat,” she repeated tersely.
Dutifully he picked up a spoon, and saw her do the same. The soup was not fantastic, but it filled the gnawing hole in his stomach and it eased his anxiety somewhat. He had not realized how hungry he had been after being worked up for so long.
“Next time I’ll make you steak,” he promised. “I should learn to barbecue it properly. All that blood can’t be too healthy, now that I think about it.”
She threw her head back and laughed. He smiled. Though they were both tense - it killed them to not know anything - he appreciated her small attempts at keeping them distracted. There was nothing he loved more than the way her hair glimmered and swayed when she giggled, and the way her fierce beauty softened when she was happy.
“So,” Bill chuckled, “some wedding night, huh?”
Fleur beamed and flushed ever so slightly. “I do not theenk we will be forgetting eet.” She giggled again.
For five whole minutes the pair snickered for absolutely no reason at all, and it was not until Bill took another sip of the soup that he wondered how they both had managed to get so giddy so fast.
“Hey, what did you put in this soup?” Bill asked, feeling a little light-headed now, but Fleur was saved from having to respond. At that precise moment a silver bullet came streaking from the door, bounced across the floor and up onto the table, splashing their soup.
It was a silver weasel. Arthur’s Patronus.
“Merlin!” Bill exclaimed, clutching Fleur’s hand.
“Family is safe, do not contact. More information later,” the weasel wheezed in Arthur’s voice, before promptly disappearing.
* * *
They lurched about awkwardly for a while from the sudden Side-Along Apparation. Bill found himself brandishing his wand at nothing and it took him quite a while to notice that it was singed on the tip; apparently, whilst Fleur had Apparated them away, he had tried to cast a spell on the Death Eater.
Eventually they learned to walk again. Her hand still in his, Fleur led Bill down the street lined with shrubbery and quaint little cabins, searching for the one that was theirs.
“’Ere we are,” she said with a huge sigh of relief the moment she noticed the cottage. She broke out into a run towards it. Bill followed suit.
Softly they tread over the threshold and made their way around, making sure everything was as they had left it when they bought it three months ago. All the furniture had not moved an inch; the walls had retained their cheerful yellow; the windows still kept the elements at bay; the protective spells on the house were as impenetrable as ever.
“Zis is home,” Fleur told Bill, and gave the tiniest of smiles. “We weel be okay ’ere.”
* * *
When it was evening, the newlyweds followed each other to their bedroom, both in considerably higher spirits since several hours earlier.
“Eet was pumpkin juice,” Fleur confessed girlishly. “I put pumpkin juice in ze soup.”
“So that’s why it was so… odd,” Bill said, chortling. “I thought I’d just forgotten what vegetables taste like. But… pumpkin juice? Merlin, I think maybe I should keep an eye on you while you cook things.”
“Ah, but you feel better, non? Zat eez ze point.”
“True, I do feel a lot better. Helps that it finally occurred to Dad to send word. I didn’t think I’d be able to sleep without knowing.”
“Well, now you can sleep easily.”
“…Or not,” Bill grinned, grabbing Fleur by the waist and throwing her onto the bed.
* * *
It had been a beautiful ceremony, more beautiful than any summer day when the grass is still green and the sun is not so abrasive. The white lilies seemed to bloom underfoot, the wind was calm and peaceful, a thousand smiles shined and lit up the sky. It was not like a wedding at all - it was not stressful like the planning had been, it was not overdone and unbearable; Bill felt like he was just lying in the grass without a mind for time and everything around him moved effortlessly and naturally. He was taking a walk with his new bride, nothing more, and he had never felt more relaxed in his life.
They were twirling now, twirling like blades of grass between a child’s fingertips, and laughing at how silly they must have looked. But that did not matter, since there was no one else but Bill and Fleur, and Fleur and Bill, and this moment was theirs, theirs, theirs.
Rhythmically they stomped the ground with their bare feet and shook their arms. It was a dance of triumph.
And this was only the first day.
Pairing: Bill/Fleur
Rating: PG/PG-13
Word Count: 1887
Summary: It’s Bill and Fleur’s first day at Shell Cottage, but it’s too quiet.
Author’s Notes: This was originally written for weasley_fest which actually ended ages ago and I just never got around to posting this on my journal. I will admit I'm glad this ended up going to the community and not to a particular person, because I... am really not fond of this. At all. :\ The only reason I'm actually posting this now is for the sake of archiving it. Feel free to drive on by.
Bill sat at the kitchen table, resting his chin upon one hand, and stared in the direction of the front door. He did not shift in the slightest and blinked only when he felt his eyes beginning to sting.
The door, he knew, would fly open in the next few minutes. He did not want to miss it.
Five minutes passed. The door had not opened.
Then ten minutes passed.
Then thirty.
Then an hour.
“Just a few more minutes,” he said quietly to himself. And he kept waiting.
Fleur had been silently bustling about the kitchen, trying to prepare leek soup and coffee without ever having done either before - in fact, she had never cooked anything in her life. Cooking was work, and Fleur had never been much for work. She regretted this now, as she lifted the spoon to taste the soup. It was too salty and had an awfully thick consistency.
Abandoning the stove, Fleur turned to Bill and watched him with sad eyes. She would not share her frustrations with him, for she knew that his were much, much greater.
“Bill,” she murmured, hoping she sounded comforting. “Eet ’as been very long. Zey will send word when zey can.”
“Right,” he grunted, and continued to glare at the door.
“Zen stop zat.”
Defiantly, he tried to remain as still as possible, but soon his shoulders began to shake, then his hands, and he simply could not stop the quaking. He slowly pivoted in his seat to look at Fleur.
“I - I can’t.” He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, not wanting to break down any further.
“You just ’ave,” Fleur said with a small smile. She put her hand to his face, which was warm and scratchy like a wool blanket. He shrank back.
“Why aren’t you watching?” he accused suddenly. “You should be watching just as closely as I am.”
Just as abruptly and snappish Fleur drew herself to her full height and whipped back to the stove. “One of us needs to be strong.”
“LOOK AT ME!” Bill roared, standing up as well, flailing his arms and beating his chest. “I AM STRONG. I’VE BEEN RIPPED APART BY A WEREWOLF. SO DON’T YOU TELL ME - ”
“Bill. You ’ave been zroo very much today. We cannot do anyzing now. We must be patient. Zat is all I am trying to say.”
The words seemed to have the desired effect on Bill, for he soberly sank into his seat, glanced at the door once, and then rested his head on the table.
* * *
There was an odd moment of stillness, a moment between gaiety and levity. Motion had reached absolute zero, save the air, which crackled with electricity. The people gazed up to look for the source of the disturbance and only saw the moon in broad daylight.
Something was here that was not supposed to be.
Night was coming all too swiftly.
* * *
“You know,” Fleur said at length, slightly more cheerful now that her soup had turned the proper color, “per’aps zey are already safe. Zey may not want to risk sending a message.”
Bill merely grunted. He had given up his watch, but had now taken to drawing out plans on the tabletop with his index finger. Currently he was attempting to remember the direction from which the Death Eaters had come when they attacked The Burrow. He wasn’t having very much luck. The last thing he could remember before they came was dancing with Fleur.
“Where do you theenk zey may ’ave gone?” she continued, trying to engage him.
“I dunno. Can’t think of anywhere ’sides Auntie M-” He stopped dead, horrified at what he was saying, jumped up from his place of rest, and began to run outside.
Fleur was quicker, though, and she pulled him back in by the arm with surprising strength. “Non. You ’ave checked twenty meenutes ago. Ze enchantments are intact.”
“Someone could have penetrated them without our knowing since then. They could be hearing everything we’re saying.”
“Eef a Death Eater were here, we would know zat.”
“Not if the enchantments have been breached.”
“But do you not theenk zat zey would ’ave captured us by now if zey ’ad broken ze enchantments?”
“Well, maybe they’re waiting for the opportune moment,” Bill said hurriedly, running out of excuses. “Like when my parents get here. Or something.”
“Non, you are seely, Bill. We ’ave purchased zis ’ouse many months ago and we ’ave made certain zat it would be well-protected before we arrived. You ’ave checked every twenty meenutes since we ’ave arrived and zey are still in place.”
At last, Bill conceded. “Fine. The Death Eaters aren’t here yet. But I’m still going out to check our security measures.”
* * *
There was no telling when it had started or who had started it or why it had started, but panic was in their midst, and it was a tremendously violent form of nature.
Oh, there were chairs and tables overturned and plates and vases broke as people trampled across the backyard, and screams broke out wildly and were cut short - but that was not what scared Bill. The grass seemed to have died and weeds grew ferociously tall and all the color in his new world had been wiped away. He watched as a daisy was ripped out from the earth by unclean hands.
Spinning around, he looked for his siblings, his parents, Harry, anyone would had seen something and could tell him what the bloody hell was happening. But he did not need someone to explain to him anything. He already knew.
He simply needed to see their faces. He needed to make certain they had safely escaped.
Within fifteen seconds his wish was partially granted; Arthur found him and rushed over immediately. He opened his mouth to tell Bill something, but then his eyes widened fearfully, and he dashed away at once, squeezing Bill’s hand as he departed.
Luck had not separated Bill and Fleur; they grasped each other tighter still as they both looked to see where Arthur had gone.
And then they found themselves nose-to-nose with a Death Eater.
* * *
Fleur finally managed to get the leek soup right, and with a great cry of exultation, placed a bowl in front of Bill. “Eat up!”
He sniffed at it morosely. “I’ve been bitten by a werewolf and I haven’t been able to stop thinking of raw meat since - and now you want to feed me leek soup?”
His wife frowned and proceeded to rap him on the head with the ladle. “Eat,” she repeated tersely.
Dutifully he picked up a spoon, and saw her do the same. The soup was not fantastic, but it filled the gnawing hole in his stomach and it eased his anxiety somewhat. He had not realized how hungry he had been after being worked up for so long.
“Next time I’ll make you steak,” he promised. “I should learn to barbecue it properly. All that blood can’t be too healthy, now that I think about it.”
She threw her head back and laughed. He smiled. Though they were both tense - it killed them to not know anything - he appreciated her small attempts at keeping them distracted. There was nothing he loved more than the way her hair glimmered and swayed when she giggled, and the way her fierce beauty softened when she was happy.
“So,” Bill chuckled, “some wedding night, huh?”
Fleur beamed and flushed ever so slightly. “I do not theenk we will be forgetting eet.” She giggled again.
For five whole minutes the pair snickered for absolutely no reason at all, and it was not until Bill took another sip of the soup that he wondered how they both had managed to get so giddy so fast.
“Hey, what did you put in this soup?” Bill asked, feeling a little light-headed now, but Fleur was saved from having to respond. At that precise moment a silver bullet came streaking from the door, bounced across the floor and up onto the table, splashing their soup.
It was a silver weasel. Arthur’s Patronus.
“Merlin!” Bill exclaimed, clutching Fleur’s hand.
“Family is safe, do not contact. More information later,” the weasel wheezed in Arthur’s voice, before promptly disappearing.
* * *
They lurched about awkwardly for a while from the sudden Side-Along Apparation. Bill found himself brandishing his wand at nothing and it took him quite a while to notice that it was singed on the tip; apparently, whilst Fleur had Apparated them away, he had tried to cast a spell on the Death Eater.
Eventually they learned to walk again. Her hand still in his, Fleur led Bill down the street lined with shrubbery and quaint little cabins, searching for the one that was theirs.
“’Ere we are,” she said with a huge sigh of relief the moment she noticed the cottage. She broke out into a run towards it. Bill followed suit.
Softly they tread over the threshold and made their way around, making sure everything was as they had left it when they bought it three months ago. All the furniture had not moved an inch; the walls had retained their cheerful yellow; the windows still kept the elements at bay; the protective spells on the house were as impenetrable as ever.
“Zis is home,” Fleur told Bill, and gave the tiniest of smiles. “We weel be okay ’ere.”
* * *
When it was evening, the newlyweds followed each other to their bedroom, both in considerably higher spirits since several hours earlier.
“Eet was pumpkin juice,” Fleur confessed girlishly. “I put pumpkin juice in ze soup.”
“So that’s why it was so… odd,” Bill said, chortling. “I thought I’d just forgotten what vegetables taste like. But… pumpkin juice? Merlin, I think maybe I should keep an eye on you while you cook things.”
“Ah, but you feel better, non? Zat eez ze point.”
“True, I do feel a lot better. Helps that it finally occurred to Dad to send word. I didn’t think I’d be able to sleep without knowing.”
“Well, now you can sleep easily.”
“…Or not,” Bill grinned, grabbing Fleur by the waist and throwing her onto the bed.
* * *
It had been a beautiful ceremony, more beautiful than any summer day when the grass is still green and the sun is not so abrasive. The white lilies seemed to bloom underfoot, the wind was calm and peaceful, a thousand smiles shined and lit up the sky. It was not like a wedding at all - it was not stressful like the planning had been, it was not overdone and unbearable; Bill felt like he was just lying in the grass without a mind for time and everything around him moved effortlessly and naturally. He was taking a walk with his new bride, nothing more, and he had never felt more relaxed in his life.
They were twirling now, twirling like blades of grass between a child’s fingertips, and laughing at how silly they must have looked. But that did not matter, since there was no one else but Bill and Fleur, and Fleur and Bill, and this moment was theirs, theirs, theirs.
Rhythmically they stomped the ground with their bare feet and shook their arms. It was a dance of triumph.
And this was only the first day.