thecoolone | (no subject)

(no subject)

Wordlessly, he opens the door and walks Fleur inside.

And sits with her on the bed.

He hasn't let go of her yet.

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.

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