WHO: Bill and Fleur Weasley
WHEN: 9/26, late afternoon (occurs BEFORE Bill's scene with Lavender. Apologies for the backdate!)
WHERE: Shell Cottage
WHAT: A mess of emotions. Attempts at forgiveness, then the discovery of Fleur's betrayal.
RATING: R (adult content and language)

Fleur and Bill volatile thread

Fleur was pacing. She'd wanted to talk with him last night, but he'd gotten drunk, and then she'd gotten drunk, and well, last night had been a very bad idea. She'd fire-called Parkinson, claiming some form of food poisoning. She wasn't sure how her boss had taken the news having delivered it to a secretary. However, that left her with the entire day to stew. Finally, around lunch time, she'd considered fire-calling Gringotts, but then he'd wonder what was wrong and then she'd tell him and they'd fight. She didn't want another reason to separate further. She wanted her husband back.

Wrapping her arms around herself, she curled up on the couch, staring at the Floo. "Bill," she whispered. "Please, come home early."

She wanted to have his arms around her, she wanted to forget anyone else, everyone else. It had been a mistake to go drinking last night and an even bigger mistake to give into the chemistry between she and Roger. Closing her eyes, she berated herself, reciting the many reasons she's chosen Bill and hadn't waited to see if Roger would grow into the type of man she wanted to marry.

Sighing loudly, Fleur laid back on the couch, vowing to just forget what had happened, to push it from reality and focus on her marriage.


---

Meanwhile, Bill was suffering through a day at Gringotts. Already feeling the moon, he was sore and tired and all together fed up with work. An itch was building in the back of his throat that signaled the beginning of a cold and all he could think about was getting home to bed. When four o'clock rolled around, he packed up his desk and called it quits. He wasn't going to be of any more use today. He walked a bit through Diagon Alley, stopping to pick up some potions from the apothecary and a bundle of flowers from a street vendor. Though he'd been fighting with Fleur on and off, he needed her in his good graces as the moon approached and he figured a little gift of flowers never hurt.

He Apparated home with the flowers in hand and unlocked the front door, kicking off his shoes into the closet and peering into the den to where Fleur was balled up on the couch.

"You're home early too," he said, surprised. "I ducked out an hour before I was supposed to but I didn't except you'd be done as well. That's a nice coincidence."


Fleur looked up the moment she heard him and tried to smile. She managed it mostly. Standing up, she stepped toward him. "Oui, I was needing to be home. This fight has been horrible and I couldn't stand it any more. I don't like it when we fight, Bill."

She stepped up to him, placing her hands on his shoulders. "I am sorry, Bill," she offered, pressing herself against him. She preferred his scars, his badges of honor to the Adonis of the quidditch players. She just needed the adrenaline that wasn't available in a lab. Rising up on her toes, she kissed him. "Let's pretend we're newlyweds? Hmm? Forget all our cares, our worries. Just you and I?"

She traced his cheek, trying to turn on the veela charm. "My handsome husband? Let us go make a baby?" She knew what she was offering, and she'd decided it before. Now, however, she wanted to follow through, if only to let him know he was the most important man in her life.

"Well, then," Bill said with a laugh, dropping the flowers on the coffee table and wrapping his arms around her. "I knew the flowers would be a nice gesture but I didn't expect this response."

He kissed her back deeply, twining fingers through her silvery hair and pressing back against her slight body. Maybe this was the best sort of cure for pre-moon blues. She wanted to pretend they were newlyweds again? What was wrong with just knowing they were married and in love? It was another fight, and not one worth having. He'd play along with this newlyweds game. First order of business...the carrying across the threshold.

With strong arms, he scooped up Fleur, laughing at her surprised cries, and carried her into the bedroom. Pushing back the quilts with his elbow, he set Fleur down on the pillows and crept up beside her. Gods, she was lovely. What he did to win her was still a mystery.



Fleur laughed as he picked her up. It was easy to forget any other arms when his were around her. He may not look as burly as some, but he was a powerhouse nonetheless and she loved every minute of it. She hadn't remembered what had made her forget this man who could be spontaneous, who could sweep her off her feet with a kiss, a whisper. As he carried her to the bedroom, she laced her hands in his hair, marveling at the fire red against her white skin.

She reached for him, unwilling to let the contact slip. In the brief moment before she touched him again, memories threatened to return and she forced them from her mind. To counter the thought that she feared had crossed her face, she caressed his. "My brave, strong Bill," she whispered, hands sliding down his chest and sides to pull his shirt up from his trousers.

"You take my breath away." With that, she leaned up to press herself against him, kissing his lips gently.


He lifted his arms, allowing his shirt to be removed, and he returned the kiss hungrily. The plus side of the approaching moon was it always made him a little more...eager. Maybe it was some strange animal instinct, but whatever it was, his body was ready and willing. Tucking his arms behind Fleur, he slid his hands up her back and unhooked her bra with ease, kissing her neck and rolling on his side for better reach.

"You," he said breathlessly. "Are beautiful."

Hands fumbled with his trouser buckles and he kicked them off so he was just in his pants. He pulled a little at her blouse and slid it up, kissing her bare stomach.

She moaned at the skillful touch of his fingers. His words poured over her, but she barely noticed them. While Bill became more virile near the moon, Fleur reacted to him, her own reactions heightening because of his energy. She laced her fingers in his hair, then moved them down, digging nails into his shoulder. "Bill," she sighed, arching against him and releasing his shoulders enough to bring her hands down and begin working on her own pants.

So long as he was touching her, he was her entire world. In her mind, she could imagine them on their wedding night, wild, reckless and hopelessly in love. With that image firmly in place, she slipped out of her pants and knickers in one move.

"I'm so sorry my love. I do want a family."

"Don't worry about it," he said huskily, sliding down his fingers and touching her gently, smiling as she pressed against him. Her small, pert breasts were warm against his chest and he wiggled out of his pants so they lay naked together.

"I want you," he whispered, nibbling at her neck. The pain in his muscles was slipping away, the ache he'd felt in his head was long forgotten. It was all replaced with an incredible, aching temptation.


Fleur gasped loudly, all breath leaving her as he touched her. Blindly, her hand crawled down his abdomen to wrap around and stroke him. "I need you," she whispered in return, shifting her legs to open more. She groaned and moved her hand up and down him, allowing her thumb to brush over the tip.

Shifting more, she leaned up and kissed his shoulder, running her tongue over his skin. "You are so sexy."

He mumbled something incoherent and bucked against her eagerly. He allowed her to guide him and he slid into her, exhaling against her neck as his hips moved in excited rhythms.

"Fleur," he groaned, grabbing at her hair and kissing her roughly. His toes curled in anticipation. He slid his hand up and down her, rubbing circles.

She threw her head back, moving against him. Wrapping her legs around him, Fleur groaned then kissed him back, wrapping her arms around him as well, nails on his back. She shuddered at his touch, gasping loudly. "Bill--"

Eyes closed, she saw only the image of her husband, brave and strong, losing herself in his arms until for the briefest moment his hair turned color, at which point she pulled him close and kissed him fiercely.

He collapsed against her with the release, panting. His long hair was stuck to his forehead and he pushed it away, sighing with content. He muttered a cleaning spell under his breath, freshening the sheets.

"Well," he said after a moment as they lay in each others arms. "That wasn't what I was expecting to come home to after work but I must say, it exceeded expectations."

Tucking an arm under her shoulders, he stretched out happily and pressed his face into her hair. She smelled of lilies.

"I love you," he said.

She shook against him, burying her face in his chest. "You...smell so nice." She kissed his chest. "I love you too." She laughed softly as her stomach grumbled. "S'pose that's what I get for not eating lunch, hmm?"

Leaning up, she laced her fingers in his hair, pulling him down to kiss him. "But you are so much better than lunch."

"Now that you mention it, I'm famished too," he said between kisses. "Why don't we have a little bit of a picnic? I think there's a bottle of wine in the fridge and we've got that good cheese your family sent."

He reached for his trousers and pulled them on.

"Want to get the food ready and I'll set up? We could eat in here. Could be fun...put a blanket out and that. Sort of an indoor picnic? Or we could eat out in the dining room. Whatever."

Rolling her eyes and chuckling, Fleur shook her head, "Men, food, it never changes, does it?" Rising, she retrieved Bill's shirt and slipped it over her head. The shirt fell easily to her thighs. She always loved his shirts. They smelled of him and felt like his arms were around her.

"I made some fresh bread earlier. An indoor picnic sounds lovely." She kissed him, smiling. Things were going to be fine. They were together.

"Taking my shirt then?" he asked, bemused. "You're lucky I won't try that with yours."

He held up her lacy blouse, dangling it across his chest.

"Lovely," he smirked, tossing it aside and slinging an arm around Fleur's shoulders. "Let's pop open that wine."

They strolled into the kitchen, each wearing a half of Bill's earlier outfit. A quick de-corking spell later, two glasses of red wine were poured and clinked.

She laughed at his joke, "Yes, I imagine that would be quite difficult. I like how you smell," she offered, shrugging.

Once in the kitchen, she laughed, opening the fridge and bending over, withdrawing cheese from the drawer.

Bill grabbed the loaf of fresh bread and began slicing it.

"Why don't you finish this up and I'll go set up the picnic blankets?" he said, passing the cut loaf to Fleur and gathering some plates.

Back in the bedroom, he set the plates down on the dresser and moved to the bed to tidy the sheets and steal a blanket from the hope chest at the footboard. As he lifted the wooden lid, he saw a small book tossed inside among the blankets. He recognized it as Fleur's magical journal. It was open to a recently scrawled-upon page and Bill scanned it, curious as to what she'd written. There weren't any secrecy charms on it yet, but it looked as if she hadn't made it visible to the public yet either. Perhaps she hadn't finished writing? He began to read and sunk down on the floor next to the bed in shock.

Oh Circe, I can't believe I...
with Roger...oh Circe...things weren't that bad. I know Bill went out drinking last night, but..how could I?

And...is it bad...that no matter how skilled...when it was over, all I wanted was Bill?

No more. We'll have a baby, and things will be fine. And I just...won't drink like that again. It's always the same. If I sit down intending to drink someone under the table, I'm fine. I can't drink like that when I'm upset. And, well, I'll keep my head down at the pitch for a while. Maybe he won't remember. I know I wish I didn't.


He'd gone out with Ron for a few beers and she'd gone and...well, he couldn't even imagine. Bile rose in his throat. A hot, angry sob was threatening to burst out. She'd cheated on him and then she'd used him. His skin prickled with the awful, gut-wrenching feeling of betrayal. Clenching the diary in one hand, he strode into the kitchen, trying desperately to keep his temper even.

"Fleur?" he said in a slightly choked voice. "I was getting a blanket out when I found this open in the hope chest. Did you plan on telling me?"

He slammed the diary down on the counter with a force that surprised him a little. His hands were visibly shaking.

"All I've done, Fleur, I've done for you, and this is how you repay me? By fucking Roger Davies? Shit, Fleur. I thought I knew you better than this."

His head felt like it might burst open and he couldn't control the tremble in his voice. He'd hear her beg for a few moments and then he'd run. Where, he wasn't sure, but he couldn't be with her. Not after this, not this close to the moon, not until he knew he could be rational and calm.


Fleur froze at the sound of the choked sob. Her hand tightened around the knife, as he continued. Giving up on the knife holding her up, she turned, hands empty as the knife skittered across the counter. She began to shake her head when her eyes fell on the journal. Shit.

"Bill, please, I..." She felt her eyes burn with the tears that welled up all too willingly. "Bill, please! It's not like that! I...yes, I was going to tell you, but...after the moon." She really hadn't wanted him to ever find out, well, maybe she had, maybe that's why she'd written it in her journal.

She stepped toward him, arms out and open. "I'm sorry, I just--" her voice stopped working. How was she going to defend herself? That Bill had been at best inattentive? That wasn't true. She'd been bitter and upset and all the feelings that had been there when Roger had shown up were all still there.

"I love you," was all she had to offer in a quiet broken whisper.

"I can't do this," he said simply, pushing the diary across the counter with a quick thrust.

The words were coming without thinking, like someone had turned a switch on in his head. Everything felt distant. He could hear his own voice but he feel like he was talking. Things spun and blurred around him.

"I think it's best I go for a while. Please don't try to contact me. I'll be back when I'm ready to talk. If you loved me, this wouldn't have happened."

He left her in the kitchen and headed for the front hall, grabbing his coat and slipping on his boats. A summoning charm sent a couple of pairs of clothes, his pajama trousers, and his satchel flying into his hands. Without another word, he left the house, unintentionally slamming the front door behind him, and Apparated to a location near his family home. It was still early. He could show up unannounced and brush it off as a surprise visit for the night. He'd say Fleur was away on business. And he'd have his old room to hole himself up in and wonder what the hell had just happened.

Fleur reached for him, "No! Bill!" After he left, she collapsed to the floor, sobbing into her knees. How could he think she didn't love him? She wasn't saying she hadn't been stupid, just that she really had loved him, did love him.

"Bill," she whimpered softly.