Read on AO3: Chapter 36
Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Relationships: Fleur Delacour/Bill Weasley @NatalieinHogwarts
Chapter 36: Quiet Investor
BILL
“Bill, quick word. Now.”
Bill barely felt the cold when the door opened. One second Fleur’s mouth was on his, warm and sweet, his hand at the back of her neck, the whole room falling away. The next, fingers hooked into his sleeve and hauled.
Bill heard a familiar voice call out to him, but he fought it, fully focused on getting back to Fleur, back to half-closed, stormy blue eyes, perfectly shaped lips, that incredible flowery scent. God, he missed her. God, he really needed her.
Bill hadn’t been thrilled about Fred and George sneaking out of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place on New Year’s Eve, but stopping them was a lost cause. So he went with them and Lee, purely to keep the lot under control.
They bounced from pub to pub and managed a couple of pints, but every place was packed. No tables, no corner to claim, no chance of settling. By the time they were walking toward the Leaky, of all places (out of sheer desperation), Bill was already plotting how to get the pissed teenage wizards acting Muggle enough to drag them to his friend Joe’s bar, have one more drink, and call it a night.
They’d barely reached the Leaky’s door when an owl dropped onto Fred’s shoulder. His brother glanced at the name and his whole face changed. “Angelina.”
Lee all but sprang out of his skin and George choked, like he’d inhaled wrong.
Seeing the reaction the message caused, Bill leaned in over Fred’s shoulder, intrigued. It was a quick note about a party in Diagon Alley Angelina was at. She joked the twins should come by for an old Quidditch squad reunion, since Katie, Alicia, and Oliver Wood were there too.
Bill snorted. Were Fred, George, and Lee all crushing on the same girl? Merlin help them.
So they changed course, of course, trekking through the cold with a new purpose.
“Hogwarts isn’t the same without Quidditch,” Fred complained.
George snorted. “Oliver won’t be happy we got banned. Angelina probably owled us so he could yell at us in person.”
Bill shot him a look. “How are the new kids, then?”
“New Beaters?” Fred scoffed. “Coote and Peakes have got nothing on us.”
“Ginny’s not bad, though,” George added. “Still don’t know how she learned that fast.”
“She’s a Weasley,” Lee put in. “Talent in the blood.”
“Not true,” Fred said cheerfully. “Bill can’t fly.”
“I fly fine,” Bill said. “I’m just not obsessed with it like all of you.”
It seemed the Quidditch ban was still too fresh, and none of them wanted to follow Bill’s statement with the usual tease.
George sighed, suddenly bleak. “Oliver will be right to yell at us. Gryffindor’s going to lose this year.”
“Why torture ourselves?” Fred muttered. “We could just… not go back.”
“Don’t say that,” Bill warned.
“They’re not the only ones thinking of bailing, mate. You don’t know what it’s like right now,” Lee said.
The three of them went quiet. George’s fingers curled into a fist, then flexed, like he was trying to shake something off. Bill frowned. Something about it was off, but he couldn’t name it.
“DA’s great,” Fred explained. “But it’s not Quidditch, is it? And we’re banned, in detention all the time, so we can’t even stage-manage the madness. The new lot don’t get it.”
Bill’s mouth twitched. “Don’t get what?”
“The traditions,” Fred said. “Stealing treacle tart off the girls’ plates for luck.” “Mocking the Slytherins,” George added. “Harry nearly dying,” Lee put in. “Victory Firewhisky…” Fred began. “…after we’ve checked Harry’s still alive,” George finished.
The twins and Lee kept up their banter as they walked. Bill listened with half an ear, scanning the street and watching for anyone paying them too much attention. He stayed alert, eyes on faces and shadows, and didn’t register where they were going until the three of them vanished through a shop door, yelling, “Angelina!”
Bill had no choice but to follow them in.
Inside, there was noise and warm lights, but it barely registered. He didn’t take in the decorations or the displays or the bar at the back. His attention caught on one point in the room and refused to let go.
Fleur.
She stood across the space, looking straight at him, as if she’d felt him enter. Some bloke was trying to hold her interest, leaning in far too close, trying to be charming. Fleur wasn’t listening. Bill didn’t spare him more than a glance.
It wasn’t the alcohol. He’d had a few drinks, but not enough to blur his head. This was different. This was the sharp, unbearable relief of seeing her, the pull of it turning his thoughts thin and simple. Like a sin and a promise all at once.
Someone said his name. Some girl, smiling too brightly, trying to catch his attention. Bill didn’t answer. He didn’t slow.
In a few steps he was in front of Fleur. He didn’t think. He didn’t plan.
He just went in.
And the kiss. The kiss felt like taking a breath after weeks of drowning.
“Oi. Bill. BILL.”
[...] Continue on AO3
