waituntildawn (waituntildawn) wrote in snitchers, @ 2017-09-22 20:14:00 |
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Entry tags: | char: bill weasley, char: fleur weasley |
Who: Bill and Fleur
What: Bill and Fleur meet for the first time in England since their separation.
Where: St. James' Park, muggle London
When: September 22
Rating/Warnings: Low
The flowers in the park were starting to die. Bill knelt down next to one of the rose bushes, fingering brown petals in his fingers as he watched the wind blow others to the ground. It was a harsh day for September, the wind picking up and carrying leaves and small twigs across the concrete on which he was standing. In spite of the chill, the gardens were full of families, many of them clustering in small groups at the base of the palace. Guards stood in front of it, ignoring even those who attempted to get their attention.
Bill felt a smile quirk his mouth at the sight but forced it back. This was not a time for smiling.
Old habits died hard. He'd almost come with a cup of coffee and some sort of french pastry whose name he couldn't pronounce. The sort of things he'd picked up for his wife--no, for Fleur--when her stomach was round and he used to resting his head upon it. He pushed that thought away as he saw it, forcing himself to focus not on what had been but on what was. He needed to know about Victoire and he needed to offer her his help for Gabrielle. That was what this meeting was about. Nothing more, nothing less.
"Hello Fleur," he said as she approached. He didn't reach out his hand to greet her, didn't trust himself to touch her.
How many days had Fleur wandered past this park during her time in London? She'd visited at so many points in her life: fresh from school; On a handful of dates with the red-headed man whose mysterious identity had lead her to London; While heavily pregnant and watching the happy families... And now, as a woman on the verge of divorce. If she had the time Fleur would ponder the irony, but her mind filled with various thoughts and scenarios swirling like a kalidescope.
Fear gripped so tightly in her chest Fleur struggled to breathe. This would be the first time since that night when her husband simply disappeared. She'd promised herself to not give in to emotion, nor let Bill know just how much she desperately missed him. With each passing moment every pre-planned conversation (practiced and well worn during late nights when she couldn't sleep) became more angry and desperate. No, Bill Weasley wouldn't have that power over her.
That is until he spoke and the world shrank to the mere feet separating them. Even the hum of the world died to silence and the wind forgot to blow. Fleur stopped dead in her tracks, clutching at the silver grey scarf around her neck with delicate fingers, her lips parting ever so slightly. Sweet Circe, it was him.
"Bill."
He didn't know how to react. There was a part of him that wanted to reach out and grab her so roughly that her elbows would bruise while another wanted to turn and run in the other direction. But, if Bill wasn't lying to himself, he could still feel the echo of her on his lips and her nearness only brought those thoughts closer.
It had been so very long since anyone had held him.
He forced that feeling away, knowing that this was the time to be strong. Instead, he managed a casual smile, as if he was talking to someone he'd known briefly at school and was now being formally pleasant toward.
"I'm glad you could make it," he said. He noticed that her eyes twinkled the same shade as Victoire and felt a sudden dip in his stomach. "Some things should be discussed face to face." And in a public space, he thought though he did not say it. He didn't feel safe around Fleur. Although who it was he didn't trust, Bill Weasley didn't entirely know.
That smile. Fleur felt her knees weaken with the curve of his lips she loved kissing. Truth be told she hadn't kissed anyone since he left, not that there hadn't been enough offers. Despite the pain and ruin of their relationship she couldn't fathom the feel of any other body against hers that wasn't her scarred, brave husband.
"I- Yes. Of course." She needed to gain control of her emotions, lest she trip over her words or cry the tears tugging at the corners of her eyes. "We do have much to discuss." Inclining her silvery head toward a bench, Fleur raised an eyebrow in question. "Oui?"
"Yeah. That works." He said, as if he wasn't afraid of sitting next to her. He'd faced down a lot in his life but he wasn't ready for this conversation. "After you."
He waited for Fleur to sit so that he could sit as far away from her as possible. It was hard to ignore her beauty and even when he hated her most, he couldn't stop gazing at her. So now Bill kept his eyes focused on the ground, staring at a broken rock and the butt of a cigarette. It was something ugly to distract him and he needed that to keep his head clear.
"I want Victoire to come here," Bill said first. "What I did was wrong. I shouldn't have left her. And it wasn't fair to you, to expect you to take on being a single parent like that. But I couldn't leave my family here, not with all that's happened. And it keeps getting worse."
Fleur nodded silently, moving her legs with the curious sensation they did not belong to her, rather operating on autopilot toward the bench. She sat, delicately rearranging her scarf and tucking a lock of blonde hair behind her ear in an effort to stay busy, focused on anything than the way Bill stared at her. Because she would stare the same way, truth be told.
"I know," She sighed, voice tinted with pain. "Your family is important to moi aussi, but you're right, you should not have left her. She will not come here. Not now, not ever." All the sorrow and longing smoldered with something else: anger, and resentment. "You do not get to decide where she will go."
"That's not entirely fair," he said, the anger rising in him. "I'm her father. And I don't think that she should be raised by strangers when she has two parents right here."
He fought the urge to raise his voice but just barely. It took everything he had not to look up, into Fleur's eyes. His foot nudged the cigarette butt, kicking it against the broken rock. Focus on that. Not on her. he repeated it in his mind, trying to keep his temper from flaring.
"You are her father, in a word." Fleur bit back, fingers winding though the scarf and twisting at the edges. "I'm not denying that. But you left, Bill. You left her. You left me-" The words died on her lips, feeling hey throat painfully constrict when her emotions took control. Taking two long, slow breaths, Fleur continued. "She is not with strangers, she is with family. How can you even want to bring her somewhere so dangereux? You are wanted. You can't care for her. I am here for Gabrielle. I can not protect her either."
"You won't even tell me who she's with. Why is that?" He shot back, feeling hurt but knowing it wasn't justified. His hands knotted together as he sat there, trying to hold himself together. "Are you that angry with me that you can't even give me that? It's not safe there either, is it? Look at Gabrielle. If France is willing to give her to Malfoy, what do you think they'll do to our daughter? And we're not even there to keep it from happening."
"Because it's safer you don't know!" She hadn't meant to shout, her page cheeks flushing with anger and disappointment in herself. Another mumbled apology, followed by another long, slow breath.
"I will get Gabrielle back, Bill. I spoke to Lucius. He doesn't believe it, but I will get him back."
Now he did look up and his eyes burned into hers. "What if something happens to you, Fleur?"
His chest tightened at the thought but he had to say it. He wrenched his gaze away, feeling his treacherous heart skip at her nearness. It's the damn veela, he told himself. You know it is.
"I do not care what happens to me!" She could feel the anger rising up like the tide while willing herself to not fall into Bill's beautiful blue gaze. "I will give anything - my life if needed - for Gabrielle or Victoire." Bill too, though Fleur's pride muted the words.
"I don't want you to give your life," Bill whispered, then wished he hadn't. He took a long, deep breath, then said, "I need you to be there for Victoire. She needs you."
He stood up, needing distance from her.
As he stepped backwards, he felt his head clear. He lifted his gaze to the oak tree above her, watching as the wind rustled the leaves, gently pushing them to the ground. It was the shadows that he kept his gaze on, not the shallow beams of sunlight that sparkled...just like Fleur's hair.
"Whatever there is between us," he inhaled again. "I want to help you. With Gabrielle. If you want my help."
"She needs you too!" Fleur's hand shot out to grasp at her husband's, fearing with that sudden movement he would disappear again. He stood in front of her, the conflict of emotion dancing in his eyes, watching the spot somewhere above her head (and she too glanced up), struggling as much as her to not let emotion take over. "I want your help, of course I do, but... Bill, you can't do something ridiculous."
"Ridiculous? What would that be? Bloody hell, Fleur, I'm a Rebel, if you hadn't noticed. For all the good that does me." He stared at her., almost snarling the next sentences out. "So what's your plan? Going to walk in and seduce Malfoy into giving her up?"
She had noticed, and since learning of his outlaw status Fleur scanned the papers, dreading to see his name. With every passing day and no news of Bill weighed heavily on her heart; at the very least knowing he was still alive was better than limbo.
"You think so little of me?" Fleur stood in one swift motion. "Moi? You dare? As if that man could dream of touching me." Her face twisted with disgust.
"Other men have dreamt," he said and he turned away fiercely so that she could not see he was speaking of himself. He shook his head. I can't. I can't do this.
He crossed his arms tightly over his chest as he looked back over at her, trying to force himself to be angry again so that he wouldn't slip into that dangerous territory of love and memory that yawned between them. They weren't good together. They had been once but by the end, he had known that his own brutal nature would tear them apart. She might have been faithful but at the end, when the moon had called, Bill went running.
"So, what's your plan then?" Bill asked, forcing every word out slowly.
"They have," She admitted with an eyeroll, suppressing a small smile at Bill's jealousy. In it's own warped way the fact he cared enough to get angry at the idea of another man touching her. "And they never had a chance Bill." Fleur's voice purred affectionately, her hands twitching and longing to run through his hair as she so often did to quell his anger.
But she couldn't, so instead Fleur hugged herself and stared at the ground. The plan was crazy, she knew, and she didn't need to see Bill's reaction to confirm that. "I'm going to trade. Myself. For her freedom."
"You can't do that," he said instantly. "It's a bloody stupid idea, Fleur." The words "and I won't have it" almost followed but he restrained himself, balling up his hands into fists. "Can't you see? He'd have a Weasley in his control. Or someone he thinks is a Weasley. Merlin knows what he'd do to you. Gabrielle--he won't dare. She's young and--and--" He didn't finish the thought.
"I can do it!" Fleur insisted, bringing herself to her full height while stepping into Bill's personal space. "I am a Weasley, a Delacour and not young. I can free myself. He thinks he can control me?" She laughed derisively, slapping her thigh. "I will put him down, just like that."
His jaw dropped open. "You--you are so bloody arrogant. Have you not heard what he did to Hermione Granger?"
Another eyeroll. "Hermione. She is - how you say - brain smart. She isn't a survivor, Bill. I can do this!" Her eyes shone blue and fierce, before turning away with a noise of wordless frustration. Of course Bill don't understand - he was the one who dealt with the danger while Fleur was expected to be the dutiful wife sitting at home. No longer. She was going to save her sister.
He saw that light in her eyes and he was afraid that he knew what it meant.
You lost your right to care, he reminded himself. But he couldn't deny that he did, most especially because she was withholding his daughter's whereabouts from him and insisting that she was going to carry out a plan that threatened them all.
"His wards," he said dully. At least if he gave her something, he might convince her to tell him more later. "They're terrible, Fleur. And he almost killed Draco with them. You should at least talk to Draco about it, see what he knows. And Hermione. Whatever you think of her, at least she was there."
"He put up wards against his own child?" The maternal side of Fleur wanted to cry and scream and hex that disgusting, despicable excuse for human. "How could he, Bill? That's his son!" The blue eyes welled with tears and she covered her face, not wanting Bill to see and ashamed of all the reasons to cry the Malfoy boy tipped her over the edge.
His hand reached up but he pulled himself away before it was too late. It was hard now, just as it had been then, to see the tears spilling from the eyes that he knew so well. Even though just a few moments before, he had been cursing her arrogance.
"That's what I'm trying to say, Fleur," his voice was gentle. I'm afraid for you."He can't be reasoned with, can he? A man like that."
A pathetic little sniffle sounded from behind her hands, followed by dabbing at her cheeks with the edge of her scarf. Fleur needed to be composed, especially in the face of her husband. "All the more reason I need to save Gabby," her voice steadied as did the shaking on her hands. "He is too dangerous to leave alone with her. Bill, I can do this," Fleur pleaded, grabbing his hand with both of hers. He had to understand. "I can. I swear."
"I want to know where Victoire is before you do this," Bill said. "It's only fair." He knew that he couldn't stop her but at least he could make that one request. Although he knew it was manipulative, he reached out, pressing his other hand on top of hers to cease the shaking.
Every nerve in Fleur's hand lit up from his touch, coursing through her body like an electric shock temporarily rendering her struck dumb.
"I..." If she couldn't trust Bill then who could she trust? He'd seen her in every state of emotion, held her when she cried and infuriated her to throw vases and hex pictures but this was the man she loved - no, loves - if she couldn't trust him then who could she trust? Her blue eyes roamed openly over Bill's familiar face, And she chewed nervously on her bottom lip. "Bill, I can't." Her eyes welled with tears again. "Je suis desolé, mon coeur."
He pulled his hand away, shaking his head. "I can't believe you, Fleur. What kind of monster do you think I am? No. Don't answer that."
It hurt, more than he had even thought himself capable of feeling, to know that his ex-wife didn't think their daughter was safe with him. That she preferred leaving her in another country while she went off to get herself killed, knowing that the possibility existed that she might die and Bill would never see his own child again. A part of him thought about giving in and just letting her tears overwhelm him, of asking her to take him back in the hope that she would let go of their daughter. But another part of him--and this part was still stronger--rejected the idea.
"I hope for Merlin's sake that you're careful. And that you take someone's advice even if you can't take mine." He stepped back. "Goodbye, Fleur. And good luck."
As Bill's hand slipped away she could feel her world crashing down once again. Just like before he was miles away despite standing so close, feeling the pulse in his hands and the warmth that seemed to radiate from him.
"I think you're a rebel and if you're captured it will put your daughter's safety in danger." Why couldn't he understand? How could Bill be so stubborn and selfish? "Don't you dare leave again, Willam!" She shouted, stepping forward to grab at his hands. "You can't do this again."
"I can't do what again, Fleur? We're not a family. You won't tell me where my child is and you're throwing yourself at Malfoy's feet." He gritted each word out, desperately trying to keep his head clear as Fleur neared him. "Don't talk to me about leaving."
The tears in Fleur's eyes cleared almost immediately as they narrowed into dangerous slits. "Not family? What are we then, Willam?" She snatched her hands back with a look of disgust. "Oh that's right," another laugh, gentle and tinkling that didn't meet her eyes. "I'm supposed to be the pretty little wife sitting at home while you go out for weeks - with whomever you please - doing as you want? Having all the adventure? You dare accuse I throw myself at someone's feet?"
"You made that choice, not me," he said. "You married a Cursebreaker. Did you honestly think I was going to stay at home? Even if I'd wanted to, it wasn't like Gringotts would have allowed it." He shrugged. "And you're right. You're not my wife. Do what you want, even if it includes him." He spat the words out, feeling disgusted in spite of himself at the very thought of it. "Just don't ask me to stay and watch."
The words died on her lips at Bill's admission of his feelings: He didn't want her. She wasn't his wife. Twice Fleur opened her mouth to speak but no words sounded. Her heart jostled in her chest like a heavy stone and the blood pounding in her ears blotted out the rest of Bill's words.
Everything slowed to a halt as Fleur pried the wedding ring from her finger, amazed the delicate band didn't slip from her trembling grip, before flinging the last shred of their marriage right in her husband's face.
t hit him on the cheek. He blinked, taking a moment to realize what it was. When he did, he looked down at the ground until his eyes caught the sparkle, then gently knelt down and plucked it from the grass. The press of the gold made him think of the day that he gave it to her and he almost crushed it right then and there.
"Keep it," he said. "For Victoire. And you can tell her all the stories about the asshole who gave it to you."
He dropped it on the ground, then walked away.
So much for the gold. It should have been made of silver.