Bill walks in from downstairs, a copy of the Times of London in his hand, ready to look for flats.
He closes the door behind him, watching Fleur reading what looks like a letter. Sitting by her side but not reading it -- it's not his to read unless she says so -- he rubs her back idly. "What is it, love?"
"Go?" He studies her eyes, back and forth, for a long silent moment. There's so much he could say and so much he doesn't need to say and really, he's not certain where to start.
Where would I go?
We're married. We go together.
Do you want me to go?
Should I be thinking about leaving?
Do I need to be jealous of Roland?
In the end, he simply wraps his arms around her and rocks her back and forth, back and forth. "I love you. Why would I leave you?"
Resting his hands on her shoulder, he forces her to look up at him. "You follow me, hit me over the head with an anvil, and ask what the fuck is wrong with me."
Bill traces her lips with his fingertip. "My dear, my love, my wife: I believe that the vow I made to you when we wed included the words so long as we both shall live. I have no intention of dying, and trust me when I say it would take that to rip me from your side." He taps the Times. "I thought we could start flat-hunting. Forge a place that's just our own, that could be a little paradise of the Fleur-and-Bill variety, where we could do whatever we want, away from the watchful glare of family or people who profess to be friends or to care."
He glances down, pondering. "You left me before, and look: all I had to do was open my eyes to find you again. I would search the world for you, Fleur. I would give you anything you wanted, and I promise: I will never, ever leave you. I swear it."
"But what if you can't come back? You'll go back to the Order once we have a home in London! What if you go out one night and nevah come back? I will have an extra set of plates and a chair without an owner and the other side of the bed will be cold and I will not know why--"
Bill shakes his head. "I'll go back to the Order, but on a low level. And I'll tell the goblins that I'm staying in London: no more trips to Egypt. For all their greed and desire to have shiny little things to line their walls, they do understand about love and marriage. And if they don't like it, I'll find a different job that won't take me away from you. I'm certainly qualified to do a few things other than curse-breaker."
Really, it's a wrench to give it up: he loves his job.
But he loves Fleur even more.
"And I won't take any jobs for the Order where you can't come along and be by my side."
He takes her hands into his and for a moment feels incompetent, clumsy, out of his league. But only for a moment. "They say marriage is about compromise and I will give up those other things if it will make you happy. There's no need to panic: we're a team. We'll do things together or not at all. And we'll always have this place to come back to when we need a break from all the things going on out there."
"I do not want you to change your job. You love your job. Iz not fair. You would be unhappy. And grumpy. And I will have to feed you my cooking when you are grumpy at me, and that will fill me with woe."
Bill always smells like earth. Fleur thinks it comes from a decade of digging and rolling in dirty while trying to save his hide. It is strongest in those harder to clean corners of his body, like the part of his neck meets his shoulder or the small of his small of his back. And she hides her face in his neck because he smells like he always did. Even though now, there is ink under his nails not dirt.
Hold me, Fleur, just like you are now, and don't ever, ever let me go.
His voice is a whisper in her ear.
"Then you'll come with me to Egypt when I go. We'll have a flat in London and one in Luxor and spend our time at each one, and I like your cooking."
For the first time since they wed, he's afraid of losing her. But he won't lose her to nameless fears: he won't let that happen. They'll chip away at all the arguments until a shining solution presents itself and makes so much sense that neither of them can deny it or ignore it.
"You're my bride. Travel with me. Experience it all by my side. We go together or not at all."
"You like what you think iz my cooking. Waz take-out from the italian bistro across from my old building."
She is quiet as she thinks of Egypt. Two homes. During a war. Jet setting and portkeys. Late nights, early mornings, and probably burnt toast.
"We can...we can try it. For a time. See if it can work. If I...am unhappy, I will tell you. And we will work it out."
"...we are supposed to be fighting, non? I mean, thiz iz supposed to be a fighting sort of thing. Right?" She pokes Bill in the stomach for he is the Marriage Expert. Obviously.
Bill lets out his own laugh, then. "So you're telling me we're both pathetic cooks. Well, fair enough: we can take a cooking class together, or we can order in. I've no problem with either."
Those are simple practicalities, as are working out the details of living space(s) and responsibilities and everything else. "If you're unhappy, you tell me. If I'm unhappy, I'll tell you. And then, as you said, we'll work it out, and... no. We're not supposed to be fighting, love. We don't need to. We're simply trying to figure out what's best to do and we're doing it the right way for a couple: together."
He catches up her hand after she pokes him. "We threw in our lot together, Fleur, back there in Las Vegas when we said I do. There's nothing so impossible that we can't work things out as a couple, being mindful and respectful of one another's wishes. I'd rather not fight, but if we must, we must. Let's don't over this."
Because I love you. Because there's nothing in this world more important to me than your happiness. Because I want to prove them all wrong, all those people who said we shouldn't wed, or we should have done things differently. Fuck them all: I love you and I want you and I'll be by your side no matter what. I believe that what we have is just that strong.
"What else is upsetting you, my love? Let's don't hold secrets from one another."
He glances down at the letter he's not read yet, because it's not his to read. "I think we're all horrid at goodbyes, Fleur. I don't know that it's a skill we can learn over time."
Bill watches as she plays with the comforter. "And I don't know that any of us are meant to be good at them. Is that a farewell goodbye from Roland, then?"
He saw him, but never met him, to his recollection, because there are some doses of reality he's never wanted to meet face to face. But it's clearly something of extreme importance to Fleur, so by its very nature it's also extremely important to him. "Tell me?"
"I've always found letters to be rather poor substitutes for things that deserve to be said face-to-face." Idly, he rubs her back, her shoulder. Really, he doesn't know what else to say: he has no intention of saying goodbye to her.
No goodbye, no farewell, no adios, no adieu, no arrivederci, no sayonara, no tsai jen.
No ma'a s-salaama.
He knows Roland was one of the people she loved. Loves. "I'd rather not have you beat me, or beat me up, though." Bill gives a weak smile. "He's gone for good, then?"
People come, people go. He's romantic enough to think that what they have is strong enough to supercede all of that. But he's not in a hurry to find out.
"Nevah. I rather like you as you are." She tweaks his nose for good measure with a small smile of her own. "Unless you decide to start wearing my pantiez. Stretching iz not good. You are very handsome, husband, but would look very bad in an orange thong. Would clash."
She takes up his hand, tracing his life line. "...oui. He iz gone."
And presses a warm kiss in the center of his palm.
He is. Even though there's nothing he can do about it.
"But I tell you, Fleur, I don't like thongs. They're wretchedly uncomfortable."
Bill lets his arms wrap around her, a huge bear-hug. His voice is still soft, but no longer quite a whisper. "Is there anything I can do to make you feel better? About this, or about anything?"
I'm your husband and I will. You're my priority; my world stops for you.
"It's an occupational hazard, my love." But he reaches for the Times and holds it in that freshly-kissed hand with the ink-stained nails; it's open to the housing listings.
"I've been looking at the listings for flats in London. I'm rather fond of the whole Victoria Station area: it's so very lovely. Do you care if we're among Muggles, primarily? Or should I concentrate on looking elsewhere?"
He can see a flat on a tree-lined street with flowers and a small courtyard in the back. He can see living in a place like that with Fleur.
"I do not mind. Juste, you will have to remind me not to do magic in front of them. I alwayz forgot in Paris and Mama waz alwayz very cross with me."
"...Westminster? Hm...iz near the West End. We would nevah be bored. ...Notting Hill iz nice." All very innocently that does not include tempting or unbuttoning the bottom of Bill's shirt. "London iz not Paris, but she can be very nice."
"...a husband on a brand new kitchen table in only hiz dragon fang?" Now she is crowding over him, pushing him back onto his elbows.
"Westminster iz nice. Notting Hill iz expensive. Chelsea iz nice. I will owl a friend in the morning. And we will go looking." A bite on his chin. "Oui?"
no subject
Date: 2005-08-29 03:40 am (UTC)He closes the door behind him, watching Fleur reading what looks like a letter. Sitting by her side but not reading it -- it's not his to read unless she says so -- he rubs her back idly. "What is it, love?"
no subject
Date: 2005-08-29 03:49 am (UTC)"Iz a letter. From Roland. He left it for me." She glares at the letter again. "...will you leave me a letter? If you ever go?"
no subject
Date: 2005-08-29 03:54 am (UTC)Where would I go?
We're married. We go together.
Do you want me to go?
Should I be thinking about leaving?
Do I need to be jealous of Roland?
In the end, he simply wraps his arms around her and rocks her back and forth, back and forth. "I love you. Why would I leave you?"
no subject
Date: 2005-08-29 04:04 am (UTC)"They always leave. I left you. What if you leave me, too? What will I do? I love you, I love you, what will I do when you leave me?"
no subject
Date: 2005-08-29 04:14 am (UTC)Resting his hands on her shoulder, he forces her to look up at him. "You follow me, hit me over the head with an anvil, and ask what the fuck is wrong with me."
Bill traces her lips with his fingertip. "My dear, my love, my wife: I believe that the vow I made to you when we wed included the words so long as we both shall live. I have no intention of dying, and trust me when I say it would take that to rip me from your side." He taps the Times. "I thought we could start flat-hunting. Forge a place that's just our own, that could be a little paradise of the Fleur-and-Bill variety, where we could do whatever we want, away from the watchful glare of family or people who profess to be friends or to care."
He glances down, pondering. "You left me before, and look: all I had to do was open my eyes to find you again. I would search the world for you, Fleur. I would give you anything you wanted, and I promise: I will never, ever leave you. I swear it."
no subject
Date: 2005-08-29 04:32 am (UTC)She snaps her mouth shut.
no subject
Date: 2005-08-29 04:41 am (UTC)Bill shakes his head. "I'll go back to the Order, but on a low level. And I'll tell the goblins that I'm staying in London: no more trips to Egypt. For all their greed and desire to have shiny little things to line their walls, they do understand about love and marriage. And if they don't like it, I'll find a different job that won't take me away from you. I'm certainly qualified to do a few things other than curse-breaker."
Really, it's a wrench to give it up: he loves his job.
But he loves Fleur even more.
"And I won't take any jobs for the Order where you can't come along and be by my side."
He takes her hands into his and for a moment feels incompetent, clumsy, out of his league. But only for a moment. "They say marriage is about compromise and I will give up those other things if it will make you happy. There's no need to panic: we're a team. We'll do things together or not at all. And we'll always have this place to come back to when we need a break from all the things going on out there."
I wish there was more I could say.
Then he smiles.
"Just don't ever ask me to cut my hair."
no subject
Date: 2005-08-29 04:55 am (UTC)Bill always smells like earth. Fleur thinks it comes from a decade of digging and rolling in dirty while trying to save his hide. It is strongest in those harder to clean corners of his body, like the part of his neck meets his shoulder or the small of his small of his back. And she hides her face in his neck because he smells like he always did. Even though now, there is ink under his nails not dirt.
Alwayz you. I should be scared. I'm not.
"I like your hair."
no subject
Date: 2005-08-29 05:01 am (UTC)Hold me, Fleur, just like you are now, and don't ever, ever let me go.
His voice is a whisper in her ear.
"Then you'll come with me to Egypt when I go. We'll have a flat in London and one in Luxor and spend our time at each one, and I like your cooking."
For the first time since they wed, he's afraid of losing her. But he won't lose her to nameless fears: he won't let that happen. They'll chip away at all the arguments until a shining solution presents itself and makes so much sense that neither of them can deny it or ignore it.
"You're my bride. Travel with me. Experience it all by my side. We go together or not at all."
no subject
Date: 2005-08-29 05:15 am (UTC)"You like what you think iz my cooking. Waz take-out from the italian bistro across from my old building."
She is quiet as she thinks of Egypt. Two homes. During a war. Jet setting and portkeys. Late nights, early mornings, and probably burnt toast.
"We can...we can try it. For a time. See if it can work. If I...am unhappy, I will tell you. And we will work it out."
"...we are supposed to be fighting, non? I mean, thiz iz supposed to be a fighting sort of thing. Right?" She pokes Bill in the stomach for he is the Marriage Expert. Obviously.
no subject
Date: 2005-08-29 06:10 am (UTC)Those are simple practicalities, as are working out the details of living space(s) and responsibilities and everything else. "If you're unhappy, you tell me. If I'm unhappy, I'll tell you. And then, as you said, we'll work it out, and... no. We're not supposed to be fighting, love. We don't need to. We're simply trying to figure out what's best to do and we're doing it the right way for a couple: together."
He catches up her hand after she pokes him. "We threw in our lot together, Fleur, back there in Las Vegas when we said I do. There's nothing so impossible that we can't work things out as a couple, being mindful and respectful of one another's wishes. I'd rather not fight, but if we must, we must. Let's don't over this."
Because I love you. Because there's nothing in this world more important to me than your happiness. Because I want to prove them all wrong, all those people who said we shouldn't wed, or we should have done things differently. Fuck them all: I love you and I want you and I'll be by your side no matter what. I believe that what we have is just that strong.
"What else is upsetting you, my love? Let's don't hold secrets from one another."
He doesn't let go of her hand.
no subject
Date: 2005-08-30 09:16 pm (UTC)"I am not good at goodbyez. I am very bad with them."
Pluck pluck.
"I am worse at farewell goodbyez."
no subject
Date: 2005-08-30 09:31 pm (UTC)Bill watches as she plays with the comforter. "And I don't know that any of us are meant to be good at them. Is that a farewell goodbye from Roland, then?"
He saw him, but never met him, to his recollection, because there are some doses of reality he's never wanted to meet face to face. But it's clearly something of extreme importance to Fleur, so by its very nature it's also extremely important to him. "Tell me?"
no subject
Date: 2005-08-30 09:51 pm (UTC)She settles again against his side.
"I hate letterz. I hate them, I hate them. I hate goodbyez."
no subject
Date: 2005-08-30 10:00 pm (UTC)No goodbye, no farewell, no adios, no adieu, no arrivederci, no sayonara, no tsai jen.
No ma'a s-salaama.
He knows Roland was one of the people she loved. Loves. "I'd rather not have you beat me, or beat me up, though." Bill gives a weak smile. "He's gone for good, then?"
People come, people go. He's romantic enough to think that what they have is strong enough to supercede all of that. But he's not in a hurry to find out.
no subject
Date: 2005-08-30 10:40 pm (UTC)She takes up his hand, tracing his life line. "...oui. He iz gone."
And presses a warm kiss in the center of his palm.
no subject
Date: 2005-08-30 10:48 pm (UTC)He is. Even though there's nothing he can do about it.
"But I tell you, Fleur, I don't like thongs. They're wretchedly uncomfortable."
Bill lets his arms wrap around her, a huge bear-hug. His voice is still soft, but no longer quite a whisper. "Is there anything I can do to make you feel better? About this, or about anything?"
I'm your husband and I will. You're my priority; my world stops for you.
no subject
Date: 2005-09-01 01:56 am (UTC)Not allowed to leave me alone. Not allowed.
no subject
Date: 2005-09-01 02:02 am (UTC)To the best of my ability, given that I'm human, I promise.
There's nothing else to do but press his lips to hers and hold her to him, as tightly as he can.
"I love you. I don't want to be without you."
no subject
Date: 2005-09-01 02:22 am (UTC)She lays her head back on his shoulder, and then lifts his hand from across her hip to eye level. Bill has ink under his fingernails again.
"I love you for your dirty nailz." And she kisses each fingertip and knuckle.
no subject
Date: 2005-09-01 02:27 am (UTC)"I've been looking at the listings for flats in London. I'm rather fond of the whole Victoria Station area: it's so very lovely. Do you care if we're among Muggles, primarily? Or should I concentrate on looking elsewhere?"
He can see a flat on a tree-lined street with flowers and a small courtyard in the back. He can see living in a place like that with Fleur.
He can see it as clearly as anything.
no subject
Date: 2005-09-01 03:03 am (UTC)She settles into Bill's lap with the paper.
"I do not mind. Juste, you will have to remind me not to do magic in front of them. I alwayz forgot in Paris and Mama waz alwayz very cross with me."
"...Westminster? Hm...iz near the West End. We would nevah be bored. ...Notting Hill iz nice." All very innocently that does not include tempting or unbuttoning the bottom of Bill's shirt. "London iz not Paris, but she can be very nice."
no subject
Date: 2005-09-01 03:07 am (UTC)He might be just a little bit distracted by where she's sitting, and what she might or might not be doing with his clothing.
"And yes, you can have a flower box. You can have a dozen flower boxes. You can have..."
He wraps his arms around her. Really, she's wearing very little.
Soon, she could be wearing even less.
no subject
Date: 2005-09-01 03:18 am (UTC)"Westminster iz nice. Notting Hill iz expensive. Chelsea iz nice. I will owl a friend in the morning. And we will go looking." A bite on his chin. "Oui?"
no subject
Date: 2005-09-01 03:20 am (UTC)In the morning. Everything else needs to wait till morning.
Everything but this.