hogwartsexpressed | strike a pose

"Right darling," his voice was gentle as he spoke, reaching for Fleur's injured arm. "I think you'll be alright," he continued as he eased her arm free of her sleeve, grimacing as he shifted uncomfortably, his injured side voicing silent but unignorable complaints. He'd get a turn being healed, he knew, but at that moment his focus was all for Fleur.

Giving her a small smile, brows knitted together in concern he turned to fumble through the kit they had brought with them before pulling out an atomizer to spritz Fleur's injury down with. "That should do it. Are you hurt anywhere else?" Bills tone was encouraging, watching the evidence of the damage done to Fleur recede before he moved to face the mirror of the bathroom, and pull his own shirt off.

After a second spent going over the angry looking gashes on his side, he sighed wearily, lifting his wand and flicking it over at the bathtub so that it began to fill with warm water. "You ought to get us a bottle of wine and get in, if you're up for it that is," Bill looked at her over his shoulder, his pale eyes creasing at the corners as he watched her adoringly.

He could've watched her all night long but the pain radiating from his side was nothing short of a damn nuisance. Turning back to his reflection he let that soft grin he reserved for her fall away to a frown, concentrating on surveying and healing the damage from the blows he'd been unlucky enough to take.

Curse Breaking is not meant to be an incredibly dangerous job, but it isn't Gringotts who sends them on this mission. The Order's mission was quite clear, just like it was quite clear that Dumbledore had been attempting to build himsef an army in anticipation of a full-blown war, and following his death it has become even more clear that there will be one.

The bottom line is, they are not trained in close combat, not the way that Aurors are - hell, not the way that Death Eaters are, either. But they will need to be. And after the skirmish at Hogwarts last month, she is more than ever determined to get them through this war, whatever it may take.

But the bright side is, tonight wasn't even all that bad. It could have been worse. It probably wasn't worse because vampires are not allowed to carry wands in England, still recognised as creatures rather than wizards and witches. So they've gotten out of it all with scratches and bruises, for the most part, and thanks to Bill being quick to pull her close and Side-Along them both away.

This isn't the first time she's been at this place, but she has not - to date - actually taken him up on the offer to run her a bath. It tempts her today, though; there was a particularly gifted Occlumens among the vampire coven that has left her exhausted - she fought him off, sure, but not without effort. So she gives in this time, and gets the bottle of wine, and comes back to the bathroom with it and a pair of glasses.

"I'll assume you're joining me," she murmurs as an explanation, and then stops in her track. There's a bite on Bill's shoulder, or what looks like a poorly aimed bite, and it sends the most irrepressible thought through her mind: Mine.

She sets the wine and the glasses on a tray she transfigures out of a towel, and pads over to stand beside him. She heals the bite wound quickly, and then leaves a kiss to the top of his shoulder, closing her eyes and lingering there, lips against his skin, breathing him in. Safe - it's fine. They're safe.

"Next time someone tries to bite you, I'll rip their tongue out myself," slips out, under her breath.

Even though Bill's injuries were enough to focus on, he hung on every move she made and every word he spoke, a pleasant smile on his face - as though he were sitting on a bench in the park feeding ducks with her on a Sunday morning, instead of bruised with drying blood on his side in the bathroom of his tiny flat.

When she goes to fetch the wine he takes a moment to shift his attention to the nagging throb of pain at his side, digging out a few more bottles and jars from the satchel before beginning the gentle work of dabbing something purple and soothing onto his side while he watched both his handiwork and for her to return in the mirror.

"I'll join you before too long." Or he would scoop her out of the tub and carry her to bed. Whenever it became an issue the balm he was using would have done its job, and as much as he would always seek out a way to be as near to her as he could be at any given moment Bill wanted Fleur to just lay back and catch her breath. She was always full of fire, and he loved it about her, but he worried in his way that she ran the risk of burning herself out - especially after everything that had happened.

Catching that remark muttered low against his shoulder Bill turned his head to press a kiss to the crown of her head, smiling affectionately. "No doubt about that my love." Granger was good, but Fleur was far and away the brightest, fiercest witch he'd ever seen in action.

"Pour me a glass before you get in, please?" He breathed in the scent of her hair and closed his eyes in appreciation before he turned to tend to the bite on his shoulder.

It was a testament to how much the battle and escape had taken out of her - or how much the whole year was taking out of her - that Fleur didn't even think to tease him for the fact that he called her his love. She has chalked it up to English mannerisms so much, even though deep down she knows she feels that for him, that at this point he will need to tattoo her name on his ass for her to know it's true.

Which, granted, was a very odd mental image to focus on while getting the bottle open. She decided then and there that she liked it - liked Bill calling her my love. Liked the idea of maybe him doing that for the rest of their lives, fate willing.

When the war was finally over - which Fleur had no doubt it would be - she would whisk him away with her to France, and seduce his socks off before maybe proposing marriage to him first.

In the meantime, she poured him a glass, grabbed hers, and sank into the tub with a tired sigh.

Hearing the water in the bathtub ripple as it moved around Fleur while she sank beneath in Bill smiled to himself, glad to hear that weary sigh of hers. It might require a bit of stalling on his part, depending on how fiery she felt that evening (there was a spectrum to it, of course) but Bill was glad to leave her to it for now.

His wounds healing he turned the tap of the sink on and bent at the waist, scrubbing his face of the grit and blood of the fight before rubbing his neck with a satisfying puff of breath, already feeling more clear-headed having scrubbed up even slightly.

Straightening he dried his face with a towel hung beside the basin and grabbed his wine, crossing the room to bend once more and press a kiss to the top of her head. "Want a cigarette?"

She doesn't remember bringing a pack here, but Bill wouldn't offer if he didn't have some, and he is the type of person to remember her favourite brand and get it, for moments like these.

She might be looking up at him like he hung up the moon. A little.

"Yes, please. You won't mind the smell?"

Had she voiced her suspicions about him hanging on to a pack of her brand she would have found them quite true, and Bill retreated to the kitchen to fetch them from the freezer after giving her a smile in response to her wondering if he would mind.

Bill returned to the bathroom carrying a little stool that he sat beside the tub, along with her cigarettes, a clean ashtray, and a book of matches. "Marry me."

That wasn't what he meant to say. He had meant to say 'there you are' but the question that seemed to be beating down the door of his thoughts in increasing veracity as the weeks passed had finally broken through and rampaged out of his mouth.

"I mean," Bill looked down at the tub, obviously alarmed, and fell to one knee beside it, taking her hand.

"No, I do mean it. Marry me, Fleur, you're the greatest person I've ever met and life wouldn't be life if I had to live it without you."

She takes a sip of wine from her glass, letting her head rest back against the tub, while he's gone off to fetch her a cigarette. Honestly, if this doesn't prove to her that he's the ideal boyfriend, she's not sure what does. They haven't defined what they are, granted, and now that she's here... she wonders about that.

He is clever, her William. Clever and kind and so very brave - it takes a lot of bravery to stand up to evil in these trying times, especially since he had a solid job as a Curse Breaker to begin with. Nobody forced his hand, except perhaps himself - clever and kind and brave and involved, because he cares. She loves how much he cares.

She loves a lot about him.

When he re-enters the bathroom, she looks up towards him, her glass pressed against her lips, expression pensive. In the few seconds before Bill opens his mouth, she begins to take another sip of wine, and thinks that she wants more than just a casual fling with him; she'd better make her intentions clear, tell him that if not now (middle of a war, great timing, Fleur) then when, tell him she has very, very deep feelings for him, and that maybe if he's brave enough to be foolish with her, they could give this a go.

And then he asks her to marry him, and Fleur inhales wine down the wrong way and ends up slipping in the tub, going under, and splashing wine everywhere. She emerges coughing, around the time that he takes her hand, and the cough dissolves into laughter. And more coughing.

She surges forward, leaning half out of the tub to kiss him soundly.

"We can't tell anyone my reaction was to nearly drown," she murmurs against his lips, and then takes them in another kiss.

"Fleur!" He hadn't expected a response like that and dove forward to try and catch hold of her. While his assistance wasn't necessary it did put him in the perfect spot to meet the kiss she rushed to give him once she came back up for air.

Bills hands moved to her hair, holding her in that kiss gleefully before he drew back just enough to smile appreciatively between kisses.

"Oh come on then Fleur," he mumbled fondly, his hands running along the curve of her neck to her shoulder. "Surely I can tell at least my siblings just the one time," the corner of Bill's mouth rose into a cheeky, lopsided grin and before she could answer, he leaned in and kissed her again, trying not to chuckle at his own stupid joke while his mind reeled over how lucky he was.

"I'll make you happy, every day. I promise."

She would definitely extract punishment if he told his brothers, most of all, whom Fleur had no doubt would tease her about this. She didn't want to be teased by the other Weasleys, just this one was tolerated in that kind of activity.

Mostly because of his pretty face, of course.

"You already do," she murmurs to him, and brings one wet hand to run her fingers through his hair. A marriage proposal, while she's bruised up and naked in a bathtub. One to go down in the history books, no doubt.

"Come join me." She taps his chin lightly, to go with that little order. "It's strange to have so much space to myself."

Shucking his pants off with all the enthusiasm of a younger man presented with the first invitation of this nature Bill was careful to turn to the side a bit, keeping his still mending injuries above the water as he half slithered into the bathtub. Water sloshed in all directions while Bill pulled Fleur into his arms, grinning down at her face.

"When? We ought to go visit your family first, and mine as well." It seemed a very practical conversation to have, but now that she had agreed, 'when' was the only thing on Bill's mind.

So much for that smoke, though at least he provided plenty of satisfaction, and fulfilled the need to fidget. If she had him in her arms, if she could touch him gently and make sure he was real and healthy and hers, then the cigarette was hardly needed, since she felt anchored enough.

When, he asked, and prompted Fleur into a snort. "William, darling, mon coeur, it's war. I don't think my parents will stand for propriety the way you expect them to." She kisses his cheek. "Maman will put you to some form of test, just to be sure you've not just fallen for my willy Veela looks."

strike a pose

bill weasley

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he's gonna end up giving her a bath and brushing her hair and i'm not sorry

best spicy boy - meanwhile, wtf is this canon point? i don't know

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screeches PLOT TWIST

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