InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "I'm so sorry."

William Arthur Weasley (bl_bill) wrote in bloodlines_rp,
@ 2009-12-29 09:47:00

Entry tags:

bill weasley, feb 2003, fleur weasley, loc: shell cottage, type: rp

Out of Hiding
Date & Time: 28 February 2003 | RP
Post Type: RP
Status: Closed: Complete
Character(s): Bill Weasley, Fleur Weasley
Location: Shell Cottage
Summary: Bill's out of town work is complete. He has nowhere to go but home.

Bill grabbed for his ponytail for the hundredth time and once again found it gone. Gone. It had been impulsive--cutting his hair off--and if Bill Weasley was anything, he wasn't impulsive. But it seemed freeing at the time. Foolish but freeing. He had naively hoped cutting his hair might also help to release some of the less attractive thoughts he'd been harbouring for weeks now. Or was it months?

Months.

He wanted to move forward without the feel of chains around his ankles, and yet he clutched them like a beloved pet. Held on without reason except for some excuse to latch on to. An excuse for why he wasn't progressing, for why he was trapped within his own bitterness, guilt, and jealousy.

He stepped through the Floo and carried his bags toward their bedroom. Now that his job was finished, he wouldn't have anywhere to disappear to when he felt particularly angry or bitter. He didn't want Fleur to see who he had become. He didn't want her to truly know how unfair he believed their lives had become. Charlie had a child he didn't know about, and Bill and Fleur wanted bloody children and had none. None. He was a failure.

Bill didn't expect Fleur to be home from work, but when he walked into the bedroom, she was bent over cleaning something from the floor. "Fleur?" he said. "Hey, I didn't think you'd be here." He dropped the bags on the bed. "Is everything okay?" Had something else gone wrong?

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bl_fleur
2009-12-30 07:57 pm UTC (link)

Bill told her not to be afraid, but it was difficult. Being bold with her words and actions was completely different from being unafraid, and there was little that scared her more than this. The kisses, the touches, the lovemaking--that was easy, but so had it always been. She knew that simply being close would make him desire her. She could not help it, as it was simply who she was, but the ease in the bedroom did not translate into ease in the aftermath. That was petrifying.

For awhile, though, she was able to forget herself and simply enjoy her husband. It was like the early days when they were newlyweds and only cared that they'd survived the war and still had each other. They could have that again. It had to be possible. That was the only thought that stayed in her mind the whole time, even after when Bill pulled away, leaving her panting for breath and looking up at him.

"You struggle," Fleur said. It wasn't a question, because she could see it in his eyes, in the way he focused on her but did not speak. She ran her fingertips along the creases that lined his forehead, then down the broad, pink scar that divided his otherwise smooth cheek. "But you are here. Merci pour ça." She sat up just enough to steal another kiss. It was safer now, less liable to send them into oblivion, and yet somehow she wanted it more. Wanted to know that he needed her, even in the calm, and wanted him to know that she needed him. "Je t'aime," she whispered. "Tellement."

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