thecoolone | (no subject)

(no subject)

"You asked me a question downstairs, Fleur." He sits on the bed, looking up at her. Studying her, really, and he reaches for her hands. "Sit with me. Let's talk."

He loves her fiercely.

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He reaches up, smoothing that lip with his thumb.

"Love, we all second-guess ourselves. I do it every day. The one thing I never, ever doubt is my love for you."

Bill looks into her eyes: so blue, so beautiful that they make him smile. "And yes, I really did think that the first time I met you. Age is just... a number. It's what's in our hearts that counts."

*She shakes her head.*

Non, non. I do not do that. Iz juste. We do not do that.

You make me do that.

Iz it wrong that I like it?

*She looks up at him.*

Now it's his turn to shake his head. "I'm not sure I'm understanding: I make you second-guess yourself? Feel young and vulnerable? Or I make you worry? Fleur... "

He runs his fingers through her hair.

"I could reassure you till the end of time and you'd still feel that way?"

The strength of what they have, Bill thinks, should be enough to conquer that. He might just have to try that much harder.

Non, I.

*She hides her face in Bill's chest again. Breathing and him. Breathing. Him.*

I do not...I do not think like thiz. With Bernard--*She looks up at his face then back down again quickly before she loses her courage.*--with Bernard, I waz alwayz sure. Alwayz. I nevah thought to worry.

With you...with you, I worry. I think...I think 'what if he doez not find me pretty today. What if he thinkz I am a horrible cook. What if he resentz me when I lose my lookz.' I nevah...I nevah worried like that. It...iz not how we think.

I worry. It iz...it iz very human. To worry.

Bill can't help but smile softly, his hands exploring the length of her back, the perfect softness of her skin.

"I can't imagine the day when I don't find you absolutely breathtaking, love. And if you're a horrible cook I'll be horrible about it with you and we'll dine out. And I don't love you only for your looks; you know that by now."

He kisses the top of her head. "Worrying is a human thing, and we're both of us human, so I'm not surprised you do fret from time to time. Would you like to know what I worry about?"

It seems only fair to offer.

I know. I know that I know. But I juste...

*She rests her chin on his chest and smiles shyly.*

What makez you worry?

He feels silly saying it, but Bill is nothing if not honest to a fault sometimes.

"I worry that you'll grow bored with me and leave. Not right away, but eventually."

It's not that he doubts her love for him.

It's that he has little faith in circumstance. That's something the Death Eaters took away from him.

"The good side is that it makes me realise that every moment we have together is so very precious."

Live every day as if it was your last.

*Fleur smiles. Very shy, she slips up and lays down besides Bill so they are face to face.*

...I think I will keep you.

*She reaches out to stroke his cheek.*

He catches her hand in his, kissing her palm.

"I think I will keep you, too."

Let everyone who has doubts have them: it can't touch what he and Fleur have.

Let everyone who doesn't understand their relationship be a cynic: it won't change his feelings in the least.

They don't owe a thing to anybody but each other. And that's exactly how it should be, he realises, as he lets his fingers walk down her arm.

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate.
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date.
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st:
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

"I love you."

Love you too.

*She nuzzles their noses together and laughs, little huffs of air against his chin and cheeks.*

You make me worry, and I love you for it. You are the one I will keep.

He kisses her soft pink lips again, then wraps his arm around her and holds her close.

He's supremely satisfied.

Eyes shut, he settles into the rhythm of her breathing. There is poetry in her eyes, her laugh, her smile.

How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true;
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face.

(There is poetry in her soul.)

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