Who: Bill Weasley and Fleur Delacour When: Evening of October 18th Where: Their flat What: Hanging out Status/Rating: Closed/Low
Fleur ran her fingers through her long blonde hair as she idly watched Bill do whatever it was he was doing from where she laid on the couch. It was nights like this that she loved the most if she was being honest. She loved that she could lay there in her lounge pants, a tank top, without her make-up, and honestly looking like she was seventeen or eighteen instead of almost twenty and not feel judged. It was one of the things she loved best about Bill, he accepted her as she was. For work she always had to try to appear put together and such because it made her look a bit older because no one trusted a curse-breaker that looked like a teenager. It was rather annoying when she thought about it but it was what it was and it was what made her appreciate nights she could lounge around all that much more.
For a moment she laid there and sang softly along with the radio, blue eyes still on Bill. Singing wasn't something she did often, not because she couldn't sing, but because it was one of the few things she was self conscious about. Fleur knew her voice wasn't going to win any awards but it didn't mean it was bad, it was pleasant, just not awe-inspiring. It was just an attempt to pass a little bit of time. A part of her was wondering if he was purposely busying himself with busy work just to see how long she'd lay there and wait patiently for him to come cuddle with her. "It can wait till morning." She told him softly as she shifted her position so there was room for him on the couch. Patience was surely not one of her strong points.
"Surely, you 'ould rather come cuddle with me." Fleur told him as she shot Bill a grin over the top of the book, on Ancient Egypt, she was currently flipping through.