#slowbur

Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Relationships: Fleur Delacour/Bill Weasley @NatalieinHogwarts

Chapter 36: Quiet Investor

BILL

“Bill, quick word. Now.”

Bill barely felt the cold when the door opened. One second Fleur’s mouth was on his, warm and sweet, his hand at the back of her neck, the whole room falling away. The next, fingers hooked into his sleeve and hauled.

Bill heard a familiar voice call out to him, but he fought it, fully focused on getting back to Fleur, back to half-closed, stormy blue eyes, perfectly shaped lips, that incredible flowery scent. God, he missed her. God, he really needed her.

Bill hadn’t been thrilled about Fred and George sneaking out of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place on New Year’s Eve, but stopping them was a lost cause. So he went with them and Lee, purely to keep the lot under control.

They bounced from pub to pub and managed a couple of pints, but every place was packed. No tables, no corner to claim, no chance of settling. By the time they were walking toward the Leaky, of all places (out of sheer desperation), Bill was already plotting how to get the pissed teenage wizards acting Muggle enough to drag them to his friend Joe’s bar, have one more drink, and call it a night.

They’d barely reached the Leaky’s door when an owl dropped onto Fred’s shoulder. His brother glanced at the name and his whole face changed. “Angelina.”

Lee all but sprang out of his skin and George choked, like he’d inhaled wrong.

Seeing the reaction the message caused, Bill leaned in over Fred’s shoulder, intrigued. It was a quick note about a party in Diagon Alley Angelina was at. She joked the twins should come by for an old Quidditch squad reunion, since Katie, Alicia, and Oliver Wood were there too.

Bill snorted. Were Fred, George, and Lee all crushing on the same girl? Merlin help them.

So they changed course, of course, trekking through the cold with a new purpose.

“Hogwarts isn’t the same without Quidditch,” Fred complained.

George snorted. “Oliver won’t be happy we got banned. Angelina probably owled us so he could yell at us in person.”

Bill shot him a look. “How are the new kids, then?”

“New Beaters?” Fred scoffed. “Coote and Peakes have got nothing on us.”

“Ginny’s not bad, though,” George added. “Still don’t know how she learned that fast.”

“She’s a Weasley,” Lee put in. “Talent in the blood.”

“Not true,” Fred said cheerfully. “Bill can’t fly.”

“I fly fine,” Bill said. “I’m just not obsessed with it like all of you.”

It seemed the Quidditch ban was still too fresh, and none of them wanted to follow Bill’s statement with the usual tease.

George sighed, suddenly bleak. “Oliver will be right to yell at us. Gryffindor’s going to lose this year.”

“Why torture ourselves?” Fred muttered. “We could just… not go back.”

“Don’t say that,” Bill warned.

“They’re not the only ones thinking of bailing, mate. You don’t know what it’s like right now,” Lee said.

The three of them went quiet. George’s fingers curled into a fist, then flexed, like he was trying to shake something off. Bill frowned. Something about it was off, but he couldn’t name it.

“DA’s great,” Fred explained. “But it’s not Quidditch, is it? And we’re banned, in detention all the time, so we can’t even stage-manage the madness. The new lot don’t get it.”

Bill’s mouth twitched. “Don’t get what?”

“The traditions,” Fred said. “Stealing treacle tart off the girls’ plates for luck.” “Mocking the Slytherins,” George added. “Harry nearly dying,” Lee put in. “Victory Firewhisky…” Fred began. “…after we’ve checked Harry’s still alive,” George finished.

The twins and Lee kept up their banter as they walked. Bill listened with half an ear, scanning the street and watching for anyone paying them too much attention. He stayed alert, eyes on faces and shadows, and didn’t register where they were going until the three of them vanished through a shop door, yelling, “Angelina!”

Bill had no choice but to follow them in.

Inside, there was noise and warm lights, but it barely registered. He didn’t take in the decorations or the displays or the bar at the back. His attention caught on one point in the room and refused to let go.

Fleur.

She stood across the space, looking straight at him, as if she’d felt him enter. Some bloke was trying to hold her interest, leaning in far too close, trying to be charming. Fleur wasn’t listening. Bill didn’t spare him more than a glance.

It wasn’t the alcohol. He’d had a few drinks, but not enough to blur his head. This was different. This was the sharp, unbearable relief of seeing her, the pull of it turning his thoughts thin and simple. Like a sin and a promise all at once.

Someone said his name. Some girl, smiling too brightly, trying to catch his attention. Bill didn’t answer. He didn’t slow.

In a few steps he was in front of Fleur. He didn’t think. He didn’t plan.

He just went in.

And the kiss. The kiss felt like taking a breath after weeks of drowning.

“Oi. Bill. BILL.”

_________________________

The ride out of camp was slow and tedious, even though you were pushing your poor horse to extremes. You weren’t even sitting on the saddle, you were leaning forward almost standing, gripping hold of the reigns. The sound of her strides were heavy, her heaves filling the air. “I’m sorry, girl.” You pulled the reins coming to a steady halt, sitting properly and patting the side of her neck letting her calm down as you wiped your tears away using the sleeve of your blouse, the blouse Arthur bought you. All these memories came flooding back and you felt stupid, you and Arthur weren’t together, nor were you actually seeing each other, but you knew your feelings and you knew you hurt. You’d never been close to someone like you had with Arthur. It was different, new territory, new feelings and you were starting to regret even knowing him. Why hadn’t he said anything about Mary, if you had known about her, you wouldn’t have been this way. You would have never fallen for the outlaw.

You sighed deeply and got off your horse, laying down on a patch of grass, out in the open. Staring up at the stars, watching them twinkle in the night sky. Anyone could have gone past you, even O’Driscoll’s. You weren’t bothered. Right now, it was just you and your feelings, you and your feelings that were swallowing you whole and taking you into a deep, dark abyss. Closing your eyes and gripping hold of grass around you, sinking your nails into the earth, you let them take over.

It was early morning the next time you opened your eyes, they were sore and stuck together from the amount of tears you had cried, your hands filthy, mud under your nails. You wiped them over your blouse that you seemed to not care about so much anymore and stood up. Your horse still nearby as always. She wasn’t your first horse, but she had made a loyal companion and you couldn’t imagine being without her now. You had a beautiful Mustang before, but he died in the firing line back in Blackwater. This horse, Y/H/N was one of the spare horses from Colter.

You pulled yourself up and mounted your horse, pulling out an apple from your satchel and giving it to her, “there girl.” A firm pat to her neck and you were on your way, coming to a stop when you met Cumberland Falls, near Valentine. It was a lovely area, quite secluded, between big cliffs and several bright green trees. All you could hear was the waterfall and birds nearby. It was peaceful. Getting off your horse to let her graze, you walked near to the water to wash your filthy hands and your face that felt like you’d been stung by a million nettles. Sitting on a big rock you overlooked the place, taking in the scenery. You would have to go back to camp at some point, go back to see Arthur, probably with Mary. The horrible lump in your throat was coming back as you sobbed out not having to muffle them this time. You had done this to yourself, you hadn’t even stopped to think if Arthur already has someone, everything he told you had been a lie and you were just foolish to believe the things he had told you.

Kicking small pebbles on the ground you stood up, “don’t move, pretty lady” a sinking feeling in your gut hit suddenly. “You move, I’ll kill you.” This man’s voice was hoarse, chills ran down your back as you stood, “what’re you doin’ out here all alone? A pretty lamb like you,” he tutted, “anything could happen.” You heard him inch closer, his boots on the rubble below you, he was close, too close. You wanted to talk, warn him you weren’t alone, but you couldn’t speak. His arm wrapped around you, the other holding a solid blade against your neck. You had to act quickly, or your life would be cut short, you weren’t ready to die.

It all happened in seconds. Clenching your eyes shut, gripping the gun slowly in your belt, gaining courage, you threw your head back, hearing a low crunch, and a yelp from the man, the blade slicing only the side of your neck gently, but definitely enough to make you bleed. Gripping your gun hard in both of your hands. The man was stumbling back with a hand over his nose, blood visible between his fingers... you exhaled and pulled the trigger. Something Arthur taught you, always pull the trigger on empty lungs.

A limp body on the floor in front of you, blood pooling around them. A tight feeling in your chest, your breathing laboured and heavy, you hunched over trying to keep your balance but failed falling into your knees. How did the men do this every day? Granted, this person was going to kill you, but that didn’t make it any easier.

Your horse nuzzled her face against your hair, strands of it falling over your eyes as she breathed, “I’m good girl, I’m good.” You hugged her nose and stood up thankful that no one had seen, but they would have heard the shot. Although this area was secluded it wasn’t all that far from civilisation. You had to get out of there before you were seen and brought yet more trouble onto the camp. Pulling yourself up onto your horse, everything felt heavy. Your body almost as limp as the person you just killed. You touched the side of your neck and winced pulling it away covered in blood. You were shaking, your vision cloudy, the top right part of your once all blue blouse was now covered in blood, how were you meant to explain this? You were sure Dutch was going to kick you out now and there was no way Arthur would stick up for you now his Mary girl was back.

Pulling up to the usual entrance to Horseshoe Outlook, Sadie called out, “Who’s there?”

“It’s me, Y/N.”

“Welcome back, Y/N.” You strolled up further, “didn’t see you around last, woah!” panic filled Sadie’s voice, “we need help! Y/N’s injured!” you heard the commotion in camp as Sadie ran up to you, helping you down from your horse, “What happened?” her gun was on the floor, her hand over your neck stopping the blood though it wasn’t bleeding as much now.

“I killed someone, Sadie. I... I actually killed someone.” Defeat was in your voice. Your eyes were glassed over, this had changed you, the way you felt was different, like a switch had been turned off, although you were travelling with a big group of people that had broken the law, and you had too, you had never killed someone before.