thecoolone | (no subject)

*She is still crying but the hysterics faded away.*

She juste. She. I.

Tell me everything iz okay. Tell me it will be fine. Make it better.

"Everything is all right. Things will be fine, Fleur, I promise."

He hasn't yet asked her what happened, but she'll tell him in her own way, in her own time. He kisses both her eyes, rubbing soothing circles on her back.

"Whatever it is, we'll make it right. We'll make it better. Together."

*She holds up her left hand. A diamond band is turned down on her ring finger.*

She juste. She gave it back.

I thought. I had thought. I don't know what I thought.

I am such a fool. Can you still love me like thiz?

Bill takes her hand in his, stroking her palm, turning the ring round and round on her finger, starting to see pieces of the picture. For a long moment he's silent; he knows that love doesn't come and go quite so easily. Not for him, and not for Fleur. For this to pain her so deeply...

"Of course. I loved you before, I love you now, I'll love you tomorrow. This must have been horrible for you: I'm sorry."

He swallows hard, though. He's not sure what she thought either, but... he knew about Ophelia. Perhaps he didn't have time to digest what that meant, but he knew. And he never asked Fleur to change, or to do anything differently, or to give anyone up on his behalf. She makes her own decisions.

*Her voice is quiet.*

I loved her. Once, I had thought that...I had thought it might be more. That I could love a woman like that for...

She iz dead, you know? Mad and dead. I did not care. I thought it wouldn't matter, you know?

...she told me when you asked me to be only yourz, I would say yes.

*Their foreheads are resting together.*

"I haven't asked you that."

Mad or not, dead or not: that matters little.

"Should I?"

He wants so badly to kiss her.

I. Do you want to?

He studies her eyes, rimmed with red from tears.

He studies her lips, her hands. With the ring.

He starts to speak, and then he stops. There's no right answer to this question and he knows it.

For the briefest of moments, Bill closes his eyes and swallows hard. But then he's considering Fleur again, considering what to say, how to answer her question. Fair enough that she turned it back on him.

"I..."

How the devil do I do this? One way and I seem possessive, another and I seem uncaring.

"I love you, Fleur." He presses her hand to his heart. "I love you, from deep inside. And I'd be a liar if I didn't say I want you, and that I want you to myself. But I also know you, and... I want you to be happy. I want you to be yourself. I don't want you to feel you have to be any less of who you are just to suit me."

He glances away. "You wanted to take things slowly with us. I'm trying, my love, I'm trying my very hardest to be as slow as we need. I don't know how long that will last, but I..."

Fuck.

He just kisses her.

Again and again and again.

*They fall back together. It all makes sense for just a moment.*

Non, wait. Wait.

*She pushes Bill up and away just enough so she can see his face clearly.*

You are not...you are not juste some man. You are mine. I forget, sometimez, that I should be loyal but I could nevah forget that. That you are mine. That I love you.

Perhaps he loves her more than he should... but he has no regrets about it. He's an adult; he very much likes to think he knows what he's doing. Bill knows that thoughts of Fleur -- the very idea of Fleur -- kept him alive and sane during his months of captivity. If it weren't for her, he might already be gone.

Or mad, like Ophelia.

He looks into the great oceans of her eyes, lost. A small and selfish part of him wishes she would just use her Veela charm, make him forget his thoughts, but he knows she won't.

He speaks, finally, in a very small voice. "I am yours. I love you, and for me there is no other. The question remains: do you love Ophelia?"

He has to know.

...oui. Juste like I love Bernard. It will nevah go away. But.

*She slips the ring off her finger and sets it on the nightstand.*

We made our choice.

He could cry, if he were that type.

He's not.

Bill watches the ring wobble back and forth on the nightstand until it settles, finally, and the room is utterly quiet.

Fleur loves him; she's said so. And not in the way she loves Bernard or Ophelia.

She loves him.

"Making choices is a hard thing, love. I choose to love you. I choose to love you now and tomorrow and the day after and the day after that. I choose to love you for all that you are and all that you're not. I choose to love you freely, and from the very core of my soul. I just want you to know the choices I've made, that's all."

Bill runs his hand over her hair. "I can't make what happened with Ophelia go away. I can only offer myself up to you, and hope that I'm enough to make you happy in some way."

He kisses her on the cheek, finished with being noble for the time being. A primal want issues up from deep inside.

*She smiles, still a sadly, but a smile.*

You make me happy, minet. Come 'ere.

*Her arms twine about his neck again.*

Juste, for tonight? Can you hold me? Please?

"Yes."

With a flick of his wand the lights dim and he moves to sit at the head of the bed, a pillow behind his back. He motions to Fleur to join him, to rest against him back-to-front, his shoulder her pillow.

When she does, he pulls the blanket up to keep her warm and rocks her back and forth so very gently in his arms. He doesn't speak and he doesn't undress her and he doesn't kiss her: he simply holds her.

And when she falls asleep, he holds her still.

He'll hold her all night long.