Morning Glory

Roses. He smelled roses.

The dawn was breaking, pouring heat and light into the hospital wing of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. His face warmed by the sun, Bill Weasley had woken up earlier than expected. His senses, much keener since Fenrir's attack, now noticed something off.

Instead of the revolting odor of the healing ointment, or the permeating stench left over from Madam Pomfrey's heavy duty cleansing spells, he smelled roses. Fresh, sweet, and fragrant.

He cracked open his eyes warily; his bed seemed to be in the direct path of the rays. Blinking away the spots dancing in his vision, he struggled to adjust. Once he did, his gaze fell on a silvery-blonde head resting on his chest.

Fleur was so light he hadn't even noticed her presence, besides the scent of the roses she always smelled like.

Her mouth was slightly open and one palm spanned his stomach; she was sound asleep. He watched as her body moved up and down with each breath he took and let out.

Had she even gone home last night? Her mussed and wrinkled clothes, so unlike her usual well taken care of appearance, were the same she had worn yesterday. He supposed not then.

How long had she been doing this? He had seen Madam Pomfrey kick her out late last night.

He smiled- no spell could ever stand between Fleur and what she wanted.

Well, he wouldn't wake her. Bill hunched his shoulders, easing his upper body in a turn away from the windows. Fleur groaned- she even managed to make that sound ladylike- and clutched his chest tighter, twisting one of her legs up and around his own.

Apparently moving was out of the question, he thought with his usual good humor. Bollocks.

Shifting his head, he closed his eyes tightly and settled an arm comfortably around Fleur's back.

Good night love, he thought fleetingly, drowsiness already overpowering him. Or is it good morning?

*~*

A few hours after sunrise, Poppy Pomfrey strode into the hospital wing, intent on checking on all of her patients before breakfast. She stopped short when she reached the final bed in the row- Bill Weasley's. Sunlight spilled onto it, illuminating the intertwined forms lying on the bed sheets, long red hair mixed with blonde.

Fourth time this week she's snuck past my spells! she thought, her annoyance tainted with amusement.

"Not good for the patient. Not good at all!" she clucked disapprovingly as she looked on. Internally, her sensible side fought a quick but furious battled against her romantic side. To wake up Miss Delacour and make her leave, or no, leave them be?

In the end her romantic side won out, and after glancing around to make sure none of the other patients were awake, she waved her wand at the window. Thick scarlet drapes appeared from the air, drawing together with a snap and sealing out the morning's glare, dropping the hospital wing into darkness.

Putting away her wand and adopting an attitude of briskness, she set off back to her office. Besides, she consoled herself, an extra hour of sleep never hurt anyone.