The Beginning

There she sat, out in the pouring rain, the droplets falling fast over her face and hair, her head held high with unquenchable pride. There she sat, one of the most beautiful young women in the world, inviting the rain to wash her away. Fleur Delacour knew for a fact that she would never have been sitting there like that two years ago. Before she met Bill Weasley.

She had been told as a child that everything changed once you fell in love. Her mother had told her that things which you had never seemed to understand made sense when you were in love. She had been told many similar things by her mother, who was now no longer talking to her because of Bill Weasley. She had been taught by her old Charms teacher that when you were in love, nothing else seemed to matter. She had been taught many other valuable lessons by that old Charms teacher, who she may never see again, as she had moved to England to be with Bill Weasley.

Bill bloody Weasley.

Fleur didn't believe in love at first sight. In fact, she had never been sure whether she believed in love at all, despite what the people she idolised told her. Ironically, this was because many of the men who met her did, and proclaimed it often when in her presence. So when she first laid eyes on Bill Weasley, two years before, at the Tri-Wizard Tournament, she didn't think of love, but only how handsome his rugged appearance was.

Fleur remembered at the time being extremely attracted to danger - one of the reasons she had entered the Tournament in the first place. The handsome red-headed young man with long hair and a fanged earring didn't only seem to emit danger, but held a sense of casual indifference towards anything - a casual indifference that Fleur found very alluring. Fleur decided that she would change that, and make it so that he wasn't indifferent to her.

A few months later, when the Tournament was over, Fleur remembered being vividly contrasting in what she wanted. The Tournament had changed a lot of her opinions, and had forced her to see the world differently on many accounts. Although Fleur wasn't sure that she preferred many of her new views and insights on life, she knew that she even if she had the chance to, she wouldn't change them.

On one hand she wanted this mysterious young man to be attracted to her, to like her, to want to be with her. But on the other hand, she didn't want him to be like all the others. Although Fleur was proud of her heritage and her beauty, she couldn't help but want more. When she had come so close to losing her life in the Tournament - when Cedric actually had - she had realised that she wanted more from it. She didn't just want someone to drool over her and tell her how perfect she was, she wanted someone to argue with her opinions, not like that stupid Roger Davis who had completely gone against his own school, his own home, just to agree with her. She wanted someone who would be loyal to her, not like the girls she had called her friends at Beauxbatons, who only wanted to be seen with her when it suited them, but weren't there for her when she was scared about the Tournament - they had been too busy lamenting their loss at not being chosen for it. But more than that, Fleur wanted someone to like her. Of course, she would never admit any of those things to anyone, let alone Bill Weasley - whose name she soon found out.

Only a few months after seeing Bill and his casual indifference, Fleur had achieved her goal. She wasn't surprised - she had always had a way of getting what she wanted. She had stayed in England after the Tri-Wizard Tournament and had taken a desk job at Gringotts to improve her Eenglish - where coincidentally Bill Weasley happened to work. Not long after, Fleur thought that her English was improving dramatically - and so were his French techniques.

A few months into their relationship Fleur still found herself intrigued. There were so many new things to learn about England, and about Bill. He didn't seem to be like any of the other young men she had dated - there was still a spark, an air of excitement, an interest. And he still hadn't told her that he loved her.

Fleur didn't think she loved him either, but it was a novelty for him to not even have attempted to say the words to her. Fleur wondered if it was because he knew that she was exceedingly cynical towards love - Fleur still wasn't sure if she believed in it. Her parents and been divorced, and from having Veela blood in her heritage Fleur knew that declarations or intentions of love were rarely true, and hardly ever pure. And if not true and pure, what else was love meant to be?

She voiced this out loud to Bill one night when he took her out to dinner. It was after their meal, when there was dancing taking place in the centre of the restaurant. Fleur liked dancing: she liked the attention, the beauty and the grace that dancing combined.

"Why will you not say zat you love me?" she asked him as the waiter came to take away their empty plates, pausing to take a second look at Fleur before a quick raise of Bill’s eyebrows sent him scurrying away.

"Do I need to?" Bill asked, turning his attention back to Fleur.

"All ze uzzer men do," Fleur mused. She hadn't said it to be conceited, merely as a fact. "Do you not theenk zat I am beautiful?"

"Yes. But that doesn't mean that I love you. Love isn't just beauty, you know Fleur," Bill pointed out, not condescendingly, only as a teacher might explain a problem matter-of-factly to a student.

"Of course I know! Do not treat me as some dim-witted child, Bill!” Fleur rallied, her pride welling up. "I ‘ave seen many claims of love, but which are really only pointless attraction. I want to know why you are not ze same."

"Because I'm me. Would you like to dance?"

"You are not like all ze uzzers," Fleur noted in a low voice, only speaking loud enough for Bill to hear as he led her onto the floor. "You do not fall over me and tell me zat you love me, zat you would do anyzing for me. I like zat," she decided, smiling as she advanced, spinning into his arms.

"You're definitely not like all the others. I like that too," Bill whispered as their bodies neared. Fleur was glad that they were dancing so close, for (apart from being at such close proximity to her handsome young boyfriend) that meant that he couldn't see the smile she was unable to wipe off her face at his words.

The Admission

Chere Gabrielle,
I can not wait until we return home next week - I am so excited for you to meet Bill! I am sure that you will like him, he is very funny, and smart, and handsome, and - oh, Gabrielle, I think, I might, maybe, love him!

Bill was more than slightly in awe of Fleur's maison grande, as she would describe it. He was fairly surprised that it wasn't in the country, but Fleur only laughed at him when he thought it out loud. She couldn't conceal her grin when his jaw dropped open at the white marble staircase that met them on entering, and he half expected a house elf in coat and tails to greet them and take their hat and coats.

As it was, Fleur's mother floated down the stairs to swoop upon her daughter, grasping her in a tight embrace, before leaning forward to offer Bill her cheek. She spoke a torrent of French that Bill didn't understand, but which seemed to make Fleur laugh - although Bill thought he saw her brow furrow and her lips thin at one comment - before they were both ushered into the sitting room. Bill declined the offer of a drink, and mainly sat in silence, taking in the surroundings of the vast room: the lavish furniture, the faultless ornaments, the stiff lipped, high nosed portraits, until Fleur remembered to translate for him at intervals.

Bill was more than happy for the entrance of Fleur's younger sister, Gabrielle, to interrupt them, as he had been feeling more than a little awkward. He had spent most of the time perched delicately on the edge of the pristine white satin sofa, as if afraid that if he sat back in it, or leant too hard, it might collapse. Bill remembered feeling similarly when he had first began seeing Fleur - at first he had been hesitant to touch her in case he broke her, she just seemed so perfect that he felt even sneezing might blow her away from him. However, he was glad that she had proved him wrong.

Fleur at once leapt up to embrace the child, breaking Bill out of his reverie and making him smile at the young girl, who looked equally ecstatic to see her sister.

"Bill, zis eez my little seester, Gabrielle. Look, 'ow she 'as grown! Quite ze little lady now!" Fleur exclaimed with a small laugh, smiling as the young girl's cheeks turned faintly pink. "Gabrielle, voici Bill - il est l'homme dans ma lettre!" she added confidentially to her sister. Madame Delacour gave a brief smile at hearing Fleur introduce Bill to her sister by saying that he was "the man from her letter", but banished it quickly.

"Per'aps Gabrielle would like to show Bill around ze 'ouse and garden?" Madame Delacour suggested in fluent English, in a way that clearly was not just a suggestion but an order. Bill wondered why she hadn't been speaking in English for the rest of the conversation, but put it down to excitement at seeing her daughter after so long, and turned his mind to what few words he understood that she had said.

"That would be lovely," he agreed readily, happy to be out of the air of awkwardness he had been surrounded in sitting in the sitting room, and out into the fresh air.

"Yes, Gabrielle can practice 'er Eenglish with you. Gabrielle, Bill is friends with 'Arry Potter," Fleur nodded dismissively at the two of them as Gabrielle's eyes lit up. Bill noticed it, and when he looked back to meet Fleur's eyes, he saw that they were twinkling. "Zat will give you two somezing to talk about, eh?" Bill got the feeling that Fleur more likely meant that that somezing would mean Gabrielle may never shut up.

"Fleur is write to me in Eenglish to 'elp me learn eet. Fleur says zat you 'av 'elped 'er learn Eenglish very good." Gabrielle stumbled along the sentence, but looked so immensely proud when she was finished that Bill couldn't help but break into a smile. "You know 'Arry Potter? 'E 'elped me zat lake go in Eengland," Gabrielle boasted, as Bill bit back the urge to laugh, instead offering her his arm as she led him along to the back of the house.

The Opposition

"Well? Maman, what do you theenk?" Fleur asked, biting her lip slightly, feeling a mixture of nerves and excitement, all balled into a large vat of trepidation. Her family's opinion meant a lot to her, as Bill well knew. As a child Fleur had often felt ostracised from her peers - her grandmother had told her that beauty was both a blessing and a curse, and Fleur had felt both sides of the saying. Her only dependants had been her family, whom she cherished beyond all things imaginable. Fleur could never forget that terrible feeling of losing Gabrielle in the lake at Hogwarts, and hoped with all her might that she would never have to go through that again.

"Fleur, I do not know what to theenk!" Madame Delacour exclaimed bluntly, not noticing Fleur's face fall instantly. “‘E seems like a nice boy - but where eez your future? For a start, ‘e eez Eenglish! I do not know about these Eenglish young men - could you not ‘ave found a nice French one?”

“Maman, you speak of this as if eet were clothes or maids - Maman, zis is love! Zis is ze thing zat you read of in books, zat you watch teary-eyed in films!” Fleur burst out, forgetting her position on love that she had held all her life, feeling that she had fallen far too deep in it.

“Fleur, calm down, you are being ‘ysterical.” Madame Delacour took a large sip of her wine and leant back in her chair, giving her daughter a minute to breathe. “You are my petite fille - I only want what eez best for you - you know zat, do you not?”

“Oui, Maman,” Fleur chanted, resisting the temptation to roll her eyes, straining her neck to see if she could see Bill and Gabrielle out the window.

“Fleur, ‘e eez Eenglish - and not even a particularly ‘igh status Eenglishman at zat! ‘E eez a Weasley! At least 'e eez a pureblood, but still... Not even a Nott or a Black - not anyone of prestige!”

“Maman! We are not a family of prestige - we ‘ave a nice ‘ouse and a nice life - but where ‘as eet all come from - not from a rich, pureblood family - no, we ‘ave made eet ourselves - you should be proud of zat fact, not ashamed!” Fleur reprimanded her mother, although it earned her nothing but a disapproving glance before her mother continued with her tirade.

“Fleur, I know zat you could make a much better match zen zat! You said eet yourself - we ‘ave a nice life and a nice ‘ouse - you would not ‘ave any of zat eef you made a future with Bill Weasley. Nor would you ‘ave a family,” she finished, putting her glass down and standing up, looking away from her daughter, who’s mouth had opened in shock.

“Maman - surely you are not saying what I theenk you are saying!” Fleur cried theatrically, standing up as well, an indignant look making it’s way across her face. Fleur decided that her mother only had herself to blame, giving Fleur such a lifestyle that she had come to expect to get what she wanted - and would be willing to protest if she didn’t.

“Eef you zink zat I am saying zat if you continue your relationship with zis boy zen you should no longer consider yourself a part of zis family, zen yes - that eez what I am saying.”

The tension in the room was broken by the re-entrance of Bill and Gabrielle, which Fleur supposed was a blessing - she would rather the tension be broken than one of her mother’s priceless ornaments.

“Gabrielle, why do you not go upstairs and show your seester what you ‘ave been doing with your time whilst she ‘as been away.” Gabrielle looked up at her mother beseechingly - she had obviously not understood much that had been said, making Bill sure that it was for his benefit instead of Gabrielle’s - but why, he did not know.

Fleur briskly translated for her sister, who again looked up at her mother uncertainly, but nodded all the same and led her sister out of the room by the hand. Fleur looked back at her boyfriend, hesitant to leave him with her mother, but let herself be led away by her sister's tugging hand and pleading eyes, the glare of her mother, and the faraway glance of her boyfriend.

“Bill Weasley.” Madame Delacour spoke clearly, making Bill jump, as he turned and nodded.

“I was just admiring your flower beds, Madame Delacour,” he explained, unsettled at being caught unaware.

“I ‘ave no doubt about zat,” the older woman replied dryly.

“No! Not like that - I didn‘t mean - ” Bill almost shouted in protest, amidst wanting to bury his head in his hands at the unintentional pun. A Gryffindor to the end, Bill held his gaze to her eyes, and eventually she broke the contact with a small laugh.

“Bill, you seem like a nice man. But you understand zat I only want ze best for my Flower, do you not?”

“Of course,” Bill replied warily, unsure if she was implying that he was not the best, or something else.

“And zat along with ze best of wealth and status and security, must of course be love?”

“Of course,” Bill repeated, sensing a challenge in the older woman’s voice.

“Well, I will be ‘onest with you, Bill, for you seem a fair man. I do not approve of your relationship with my daughter, as you do not love her.” Bill was more than slightly taken aback by this, as Madame Delacour said it so bluntly is was as if she had not given it a second thought, or knew nothing of etiquette or curtsey in conversation. This reminded Bill vividly of Fleur, who had no trouble in pointing out the obvious in what most people would not, such as references to her beauty.

“Why do you say that?”

“Do you deny it?” Madame Delacour asked, without giving him time to answer. “For if you truly loved ‘er, you would want ‘er to ‘ave all ze things zat she needed, zat she wanted. All ze things zat you can not provide for her. If you truly loved ‘er, you would want ‘er to ‘ave ze best, what she deserves. Ze things zat you can not give ‘er. ‘Er family.”

“Madame Delacour - I’m not sure that I understand - “

“Zen maybe you are not as smart as Fleur said. You are a smart boy, I am sure zat you will find someone else - someone better suited for you zen Fleur. She would ‘ave wanted zat. And if you do truly love ‘er, zen you will want what eez best for ‘er, too. Or if you do not truly love ‘er, zen you should not be with ‘er anyway.” Bill faltered, unsure of what to do as Madame Delacour rose to see him out, thinking over everything that she had said. “Sometimes, Bill Weasley, you only realise ‘ow much you love someone when you ‘ave to let them go.”

The End

Fleur and Gabrielle did not speak more than a few words on the trip up to the top floor of the house, to Gabrielle’s bedroom, both too immersed in their own thoughts. If Fleur had not been so meddled in her mind, wondering over the right decision - if there was one - she may have noticed how Gabrielle took extreme time walking up the four flights of stairs, and how her usually garrulous sister was for once solemn.

When they finally reached Gabrielle’s room, the young girl brought out her cross-stitching and her translations, and handed them dutifully to her sister, looking down at the polished marble floor all the time.

“Gabrielle, zis is marvellous!” Fleur declared, trying to lighten the mood for the sake of her sister - painfully aware that that may be the last time she would see her in a long time. “Tres bien, ma petite soeur!” However, Fleur was not so absorbed in her own predicaments that she did not notice something was wrong with her sister, and she soon picked up on it, raising her sister’s chin so that she would meet her eyes. “Gabrielle - what eez wrong? Why are you so sad - I am ’ome, zis should be a joyous occasion!”

Should be, Fleur thought grimly, refusing to let a tear surface from her eyes. Without warning Gabrielle burst into tears, and did not say a word for several minutes while Fleur cradled her gently in her arms.

“I am so tres, tres desole, Fleur!” she cried, her words bursting out in a mixture of French and English, before settling into a fresh flood of French. “I did not want to - it all seemed so romantic, like he was your knight and you were the princess that you are! And that - that - that you love him! And he seemed like a nice man, he spoke and laughed with me, and told me tales of Harry Potter! But Maman made me - she said that it would be what is best for you - and of course I only want what is best for you, Fleur, you are my sister and I love you! Please, please do not be angry with me - I did not mean to - oh, Fleur - I am so, so sorry!”

“What?” Fleur asked in deathly whisper, her face turning pale as she bent down to reach her sister’s eye level. “What ‘ave you done, Gabrielle?”

“I - I - I have left Bill and Maman together like she told me to...” Gabrielle burst out, along with a fresh torrent of tears as Fleur rapidly detached herself from her sister, shaking as she stood up. “I left them together, knowing what Maman wanted - what she thought - what she would do... Oh - Fleur!”

But Fleur had gone, running down the stairs faster than the flight of a Seeker who is rushing to snatch the Snitch to save the game, not giving a thought to the fact that she might trip or slip on the shining marble, or even pausing to catch breath - the only thought on Fleur’s mind was Bill.

“Bill!” Fleur screamed as she rushed down the final flight of stairs, much less elegantly than her mother had done on their entrance to the house, but with much more dignity, which came from her purpose. “Bill!”

But the only person Fleur’s screams brought her was her mother from the sitting room, who calmly made her way to the front door, and shut it from when it had been resting on the latch after someone had left it only a few moments before.

The Other Side

Gabrielle sat curled up at the top of the stairs, looking like a grubby mar amongst the rolling white marble stairs, and neat, small greenery that decorated the alcoves. Her head rested upon her knees, the tears not yet dry on her face where she had neglected to brush them away after being sent to her room by her mother before the fight had erupted with Fleur.

Madame Delacour lay sprawled out on her sofa, hopelessly trying to banish the tears that she knew would come - if not then, then soon. The opposite of what she had been trying to achieve had happened - she had lost her daughter. By trying to keep her daughter close and forbidding her relationship with the English boy, she had only succeeded in pushing her further away - a point that Fleur made perfectly clear at the top of her voice only a few minutes before.

Fleur had been absolutely outraged at her mother’s interference, and had made it perfectly known, at exceeding volume. “I bet zat Bill’s family would not be so ‘orrible!” she yelled accusingly, looking down scornfully at her mother. “I bet zat Bill’s family would not try to stop ‘im from being with ze person zat ‘e loves!”

Madame Delacour tried to retaliate, tried to tell Fleur that she only did it for the best, and that one day Fleur would thank her - but Fleur only gave another cutting reply of the only thing she would thank her for was being pushed out of the family, before storming out and slamming the door shut behind her.

The Truth

There she sat, out in the pouring rain, the droplets falling fast over her face and hair, her head held high with unquenchable pride. There she sat, one of the most beautiful young women in the world, inviting the rain to wash her away. Fleur Delacour knew for a fact that she would never have been sitting there like that two years ago. Before she met Bill Weasley. Before she had fallen into the thing she had never believed in.

As soon as she had left her house, her home, her family - her life - she had returned to England to find Bill, find her new life - if it wasn't too late. She had returned first to their flat in London, then to Gringotts, then to his brothers' store, before finally considering going to his home to see if she could find Bill - and also to see if they would receive a better reception than they had in her home - but luckily a tall, dark skinned girl came over to help her.

"Are you alright?" she asked, obviously concerned by the normally stunning girl's slightly dishevelled appearance and the erratic way her eyes were darting all around. Fleur's usual long sheet of flowing silver hair was dripping and standing at all ends from where she had forgotten to don a coat for her return to England, where the rain had returned to set the mood for her arrival. Fleur almost smiled - if there was one thing England was good for, it was setting the mood. Whether consciously or not, the dark skies and impertinent rain seemed appropriate. "Hang on a minute - you're Fleur Delacour, aren't you?" Fleur nodded, staring at the unfamiliar girl, who looked very confident and self assured, even in Fleur's presence. "Angelina Johnson - I was in Hogwarts during the Tri-Wizard Tournament. You were the Beauxbatons Champion, weren't you?"

"Yes, yes I was," Fleur admitted in her throaty voice. "I am looking for Bill Weasley, 'ave you seen 'im?"

"Oh, you two are together now, aren't you? Fred said that Bill had finally met his match," Angelina laughed, ignoring Fleur's obvious discomfort.

"Excuse me? I do not understand. Do you know where Bill eez?" Fleur asked again, too hassled to think about the other girl's words.

"I think I saw him go into The Leaky Cauldron half an hour ago," Angelina told her, finally taking pity on the girl. Fleur then ran out of the shop, the only thought in her mind was to find Bill and tell him to stop drinking away his sorrows, that his sorrows weren't true any more, that she was going to be with him not matter what anyone else said or thought.

However, when she got there Fleur didn't say any of those things. She strode in, ready to fly into her boyfriend's arms, ready to act out the lines from one of Gabrielle's fairy tales - until she saw a scene far from those found in fairy tales being played out in front of her.

Until she saw the back of her boyfriend's head - she couldn't see the front of it, as it was attached to that of a pretty young blonde witch. Out of the million thoughts that ran through Fleur's head, one was easily the most prominent - the desire to slap the blonde that was stealing the love of her life. Fleur almost did, her anger overtaking her like it had in her home only a few hours before - until for the first time she stopped and thought about what she was doing.

How many times had the roles been reversed? How many times had other young witches wanted to slap her for stealing their "loves"? At the numerous times that had happened, Fleur had only scorned, upholding her belief that love didn't exist - for if it did than those young men who proclaimed to be in "love" with the other witches wouldn't have turned their heads towards her.

But if love didn't exist, then why did her heart hurt so much?

It was whilst these thoughts were making their way around Fleur's head that Bill turned and saw her turn around and walk stiffly out of the pub, out of his life.

There she sat, out in the pouring rain, the droplets falling fast over her face and hair, her head held high with unquenchable pride. There she sat, one of the most beautiful young women in the world, inviting the rain to wash her away. Fleur Delacour knew for a fact that she would never have been sitting there like that two years ago. Before she met Bill Weasley.

But no matter what had happened, what she had gained and what she had lost, Fleur refused to cry. That would truly mean admitting defeat to her denial of love. It was excruciatingly difficult to maintain that theory when she felt her lips being pressed against those of a certain long haired, fang earringed red haired man.

She pushed him away after a second, her pride overcoming her want for him. "I can not beleeve you!" she yelled, her eyes flashing dangerously, pushing him further away - and yet still not really wanting him to go. "I gave up everyzing - everyzing - for you, and zen I walk in and see you kissing some uzzer girl?"

"And I gave up that other girl to come out here and kiss you," he explained, as if it were a logical weighing out of evidence. "I thought I'd lost you - I thought it was for the best. But as soon as I saw that I hadn't I came right out to you, and gave up whatever else I might have had without a second thought - doesn't that prove how much you mean to me?"

"No," she answered hollowly, turning away, in doing so flicking her long, albeit slightly bedraggled, silvery hair across his face. "As I really did give up everyzing. You don't even have anyzing to give up," she bit out spitefully.

"Yes I did. I gave up my life to spend it with you," Bill persevered, turning Fleur back to face him. "I gave up spending time with my friends to spend it with you. I gave up the extra hours I usually put in for work to teach you how to speak English. Albeit, you gave up a fair bit of your time to teach me some of the finer French techniques... I gave up spending time with my family to spend it with you instead. I gave up the money I'd usually spend on buying broomstick magazines or new robes to buy you jewellery or just things that would remind me of you. I gave up my only holiday time from work to spend it visiting your family. I gave up my life to spend it with you. And although I don't regret a single minute of it, I'd still say that a life is pretty big thing to give up, especially now when there aren't any lives to go spare."

"But what if I went and left right now? You would not care - you would just go straight back to whatever uzzer girl 'appens to be ze closest! You, Bill Weasley, do not love me at all," she finished accusingly, standing up tall and turning around once more.

"Fleur," Bill said softly, catching her hand deftly as she swung it back to get into her stride and walk away, pulling her back towards him. "Do you really believe that?"

“Bill, you know just as well as I do zat zere are no happy endings in life!” she screamed piercingly, sounding on the brink of tears, her voice cracking precariously. “So why even pretend?”

“Because…I love you.”

"I do not believe in love," Fleur told him deprecatingly, emitting a hollow laugh.

"Then let me change your mind, like you changed mine."

"How can I 'ave changed your mind about love when ze minute you theenk you 'ave lost "love" you move onto ze next "love"? I was wrong - and zat eez not somezing you will 'ear me say often. I was wrong - Bill Weasley, you are just like all ze uzzers. True, you do not fall over me and tell me zat you love me - but far, far worse than zat, you never loved me, you just 'ad a fleeting desire for me."

Bill stared down into Fleur's eyes; her steely blue glare met his defiantly, as if daring him to contradict her.

"Sometimes, when you love someone, you have to let them go. I know your family is the most important thing to you, Fleur - in the second task Gabrielle was the thing you'd miss most. I could tell by the way you looked when you were home, how you prayed for good judgment, your delight on seeing your mother and sister again - how could I take all that away from you? I only did it because I love you," Bill tried to explain, without avail.

"Well, maybe someday you will become my family." The words had flowed out of Fleur's mouth before she had time to control them, much to her horror.

"Fleur, are you asking me to marry you?" Bill sounded more than a little amused, which did nothing to improve Fleur's temper, which had unwillingly dulled a bit just from being in Bill's presence.

"No! Of course not!"

"Good, because that would kind of step on the toes of what I was about to say: Fleur, will you marry me?"

"No." Fleur said shortly, and would have laughed at the expression on Bill's face if it wouldn't have ruined the mood that the dark clouds and rain was so considerately aiding.

"Why - why not?" he asked, trying to keep his undeniable cool, but not quite succeeding.

"Because you do not love me."

"Fleur! We've been through this! Besides, why would I ask you to marry me if I didn't love you?" Bill sounded like he was trying his best not to let his exasperation show - but failing, much to Fleur's hidden amusement.

"I do not know - you tell me," Fleur instructed, crossing her arms.

"Fine," Bill said, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms in return. "I asked you to marry me because you're sweet - once you're able to melt your eyes of steel. I asked you to marry me because you're brave - you'll fight for anything you want, and won't rest until you get it, no matter what it takes. Like you fought for me - like I'm trying to do for you now. I asked you to marry me because you make me laugh, whether you mean to or not. I asked you to marry me because I didn't think it possible to have such a good time this last year, being in the midst of war - but I have, and that's because I've been with you. I didn't ask you to marry me because you're beautiful, but you are - far more beautiful than anyone I've ever known. I want to marry you, because, above all, I love you."

"After my parents - after everything?" Fleur asked, her haughty demeanour fading ever so slightly away at Bill's words. "How do you know zat it eez ze right zing?"

"I know because I love you. And because the sex is great," Bill added cheekily, earning him a swat from Fleur. "And because you love me too."

"'Ow do you know zat?" Fleur asked in astonishment - she made it a point to guard her feelings carefully, to avoid situations like the one she was in happening, to avoid getting hurt. "I 'ave never told you zat - eez it just an assumption zat you are making to try and convince me?"

"No, Gabrielle told me," Bill admitted. "But don't you?"

"Yes, I loved you." Fleur said shortly.

"Fleur, there's one more thing I need to teach you about English. "Loved" isn't a word," he said solemnly, as Fleur looked on in confusion. "There is no past tense to "love" - if you love someone, you always will, no matter what. Like I love you."

"Then why did you kiss zat girl?" Fleur asked, more as if it was an Arithmacy problem she couldn't work her head around than accusingly.

"Sometimes," Bill mused, "you just have to try and stop letting it show. But most times you have to do everything you can never to lose it."

"Well. Bill Weasley. I guess zat means zat I love you also," Fleur decided, looking up into his eyes as his mouth curved into a smile.

"And if you make it through meeting my family, then we'll know it must be love!" Bill informed her, interrupting her laugh as he bent his head down to kiss her.

There she stood, out in the pouring rain, one of the most beautiful young women in the world, wrapped around the arms of the man she considered the most wonderful in the world, ready to embark upon their happily ever after.