Romance In F Minor

 

Bill stirred. Fleur pulled back from his face, her fingers still covered in ointment. He opened his eyes and blinked twice to clear his vision. "Hey," he said softly.

"Hi."

"What are you doing?"

"I am fixing your face," Fleur smiled. She held up her hand as proof.

"God, that smells terrible."

"You smell terrible, also," she said briskly. "I must get you cleaned up soon."

"I love you, too, sweetheart." Bill reached up and touched her face. Fleur closed her eyes as his hand stroked gently over her cheek. "Are you okay?"

Her eyes snapped open. "Am I okay? Moi? You are ze one 'oo was attacked by a werewolf!"

"Yes, and I'm very sore and achy and scratched up. We all know that." He grinned. "But are you okay?"

Fleur's eyes filled with tears and she looked away. "I was so worried. And your muzzer-mother--" she corrected herself, but couldn't continue.

"Mum still giving you a hard time?"

"Not anymore, I don't theenk."

"Good." Bill kissed her hand, the one that didn't have the nasty-smelling ointment on it. "Are we still on for next summer?"

"As far as I know. Unless you want to... call it off?" Fleur said hesitantly.

"Not for a million Galleons," Bill replied firmly.

Fleur smiled at him.

"Where am I again?"

"You are een-in ze 'Ospital Wing at 'Ogwarts. Hogwarts. I cannot get these sounds," Fleur groaned, shaking her head.

Bill chuckled, then immediately regretted it. "Ow."

"Oh, I need to keep putting thees-this on your scratches. You naughty boy, distracting me from my task." Fleur resumed gently rubbing the ointment on his face.

"And I was... scratched by a werewolf."

"Oui. Yes, I mean," Fleur said softly. "But you should be-"

"Fine," Bill finished. He hissed as Fleur spread the ointment over a raw wound on his collarbone. They sat on silence for a few minutes. "And Dumbledore is dead."

"Yes."

"And everyone in my family is okay?"

"Yes. Except you, of course. You are looking terrible." Fleur hid a smile.

Bill made a face. "So you're marrying me out of pity, then?"

Fleur pretended to think it over. "Well, mostly, but you are also amusing to 'ave around. You do such silly things."

"Like what?"

"Like... tripping over ze laundry baskets. Speaking to me in Ancient Egyptian. Saying you love me in your 'orrible French accent. It really is 'orrible, Bill." She smiled at him while rubbing the ointment on his chest.

"What else?"

"You do such silly brave things. Like opening cursed tombs. Fighting ze... um... mummies? Yes. And you go wherever ze Order calls you and you get attacked by werewolves and let me think you're going to die. Zat ees vair silly." Fleur shook her head. "That is-"

"Don't worry about it," Bill grinned. "I understood."

Fleur stopped what she was doing and looked at him straight in the eye. "I know. You always do."

They looked at each other for a long moment. Then Fleur leaned back over his face and kissed him softly, not wanting to hurt his wounds any worse than they were already. "I love you," she said.

"Je t'aime aussi."

Fleur smiled widely. "You and your horrible accent."

"I can't help it that you French people sound like you have phlegm c onstantly stuck in your throat. I don't suffer from that affliction. Nice 'h' sound, by the way."

"Phlegm?" Fleur rolled her eyes. "That is what your charming sister and her friend called me when they thought I couldn't hear."

Bill laughed, while Fleur looked at him injuredly. "Sorry," he said hurriedly. "And you had a good 'th' sound, too."

Fleur preened. "I had a good teacher." Fleur finished rubbing the ointment on his chest and sighed. "You 'ave such lovely muscles."

"Thank you. I trained hard for them." A corner of Bill's mouth quirked. "You have such a lovely face."

"Yes, I also worked hard for it."

"Your eyes are loveliest, I think."

"My eyes?"

"Yeah. Because..." Bill tried to sit himself up. Fleur hurried to assist him, then made to sit back down, but Bill grabbed her arm and pulled her close. "Because when I look at your eyes... I see your goodness." He paused. "And I see you thinking. I love to watch you think. You get a little wrinkle right... here," he said, kissing her forehead. "And here." He kissed the middle of her nose. "Sometimes, you twist your mouth a little," he kissed the corner of her mouth. She turned her head slightly, and he kissed her fully on the mouth.

After a few minutes, Fleur pulled away. "You need to rest," she said quietly, smoothing back his hair.

He reached up and touched her hair, running his fingers through it. "I want to tell you that you're beautiful."

"Oh, I already knew that. Tell me something... new." Fleur never liked to hear him say she was beautiful. The compliment had grown old by the time she was twelve.

"Something new. You are so... intelligent. And determined."

"Determined?"

"You're always making an effort to speak correct English, instead of just doing what you can to get by. Which is more of an effort than your mother makes."

Fleur put a finger on his lips. "I did not talk badly of your mother."

"True. Which reminds me, you are also a good person."

"Am I?"

"Yes. You put up with a lot of crap this year. A lot more than I would've."

"I knew you were trying to talk to your mother. If you had just been letting her get away with it, I wouldn't have... eh... put up with the crap, as you said."

Bill smiled.

They sat together, on Bill's hospital bed, just looking at each other contentedly for a few minutes. Suddenly, Bill frowned. "You were fishing for compliments, weren't you!"

"What? Fishing?"

Bill shook his head and tugged lightly on her hair. "You were trying to trick me into complimenting you."

Fleur smiled naughtily. "It worked, no?"

"You little scamp."

"Scamp? That is something I have not been called."

Bill tickled her, and she let out a shriek. "Shhh!"

"Miss Delacour!" Madam Pomfrey burst past the privacy curtains. "It's past time for you to leave! Mr. Weasley needs his rest. In case you have forgotten, he has been attacked by a werewolf!"

"Oh, thanks for reminding me, Madam Pomfrey," Bill said politely. "I had nearly forgotten myself, thanks to Miss Delacour's ministrations."

Madam Pomfrey looked at the two of them and shook her head. "Ministrations, indeed," she muttered, and turned round. "Two minutes, Miss Delacour!"

"Is she angry?" Fleur asked, her blue eyes opened wide.

"Nah, she was hiding a smile."

"Really?"

"Probably."