leplusbeau | (no subject)

(no subject)

*Fleur is towel drying Bill's hair, humming an old lullaby under her breath.*

I wish I had not slept so hard for so long. I would have done thiz once we came back. You deserve to be pampered.

*She stops as she catches sight of her ring again.*

Oui. You deserve a great deal of pampering and worshiping.

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Je t'aime. Now, hold still juste a moment. I do not want you to have a comb stuck in your hair.

*She is grinning from ear to ear as she brushes and even braids Bill's long hair.*

...You gave me a ring. I have a ring! ...I am going to be a Weasley. *now she gets wide eyed*

Really, he thinks this has nothing to do with ownership but everything to do with sharing. And loving. And commitment, and as she sets down the comb he turns to face her again. "Love, you can be a Weasley if you want, or you can be a Delacour, or you can be a Delacour-Weasley. Whatever suits you, whatever you want to do."

He hasn't had much chance to even start to think about details, but he knows one thing. "I'm thinking, though, that we should do this wedding ceremony out there, not in the bar. So that way, my family can all attend. Unless we simply run off and do it ourselves."

And he's fine with that, too. "We've all the time we need for planning and working on the details." Right now, it's new. Right now, it's a feeling he wants to savour.

*She tips her head and thinks.*

Oui. Outside. Not 'ere. As much as I want some people there...non. We will have a dinner. Or something. For them.

*She grins wickedly.*

If we do not run off. Sometime. The coast of Italy iz very lovely from summer to fall.

Anywhere.

Anywhere with you. He moves to sit beside her, feeling very nicely taken care of indeed, and lets his fingers draw idle and inconsistent circles over her thigh.

"I wondered if I would see you again."

They haven't talked about it yet, not really, except for in the very sketchiest of ways: she knows he and Tonks managed to escape and were loose in the castle. She knows how they managed to leave. She knows that there was very little time for torment and torture this time: that much he's told her.

What he hasn't shared is the feeling he carried in the pit of his stomach for those three days: the gnawing, very real fear that he might never hold her again and that was worse than anything the Death Eaters could have done to him. He's not sure he wants her to know about it. Not now, when they're so happy.

Later.

You are 'ere now. All that matterz.

*She cups his elbow and presses kiss after kiss along his neck to his jaw and back again.*

One thing he adores about Fleur -- and this is a thing he's always known, from the moment he first held her -- is the way he feels when she's close enough to him so he can touch her. It makes him somehow lighter, somehow less... less what? less serious? Her presence fills him with air, with delight, and she's the only woman who consistently makes him feel that way.

There have been others, certainly, but none like Fleur.

It feels almost like a chemical reaction, one he's helpless to counter and even if he could, he wouldn't.

It makes him feel like he's falling, but falling into warmth, into comfort, into exquisite and perfect... bliss.

He knows this is something he loves about her. There are more things, too. So many more. But for now he's content to let himself fall, and every press of her lips against his skin brings another wave of desire, another wave of contentment, another wave of feeling so right.

"We're here. Together. That's what matters."

*Her smile is as bright as the sun.*

Oui. Together. Us.

*This kiss is slow as she wraps her arms around his neck, and they sink into the bed. Her legs curve over his hips. And the hasty braid is quickly undone.*

Je t'aime. Je t'aime.

*Over and over against his mouth.*

There's nowhere else he'd rather be. He holds her tight, eyes closed.

And melts, melts into that feeling.

Of light.
Of love.
Of belonging.

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