She Said Yes

"I am almos' done, Bill."

Bill chuckled, stepping through Fleur's front door and closing it behind him. "Normal people say Hello," he reminded her, strolling nonchalantly through her elegant living room as he followed her towards the bedroom.

Fleur glanced impishly over her shoulder at him. She was dressed in a cream colored slip and little else; even her feet were bare. "But neizer of us is normal, oui?" she answered with a twinkle in her eye. "We are très spécial."

"One of us is," he conceded, leaning in the door to her bedroom and watching as she went to the closet; a massive double-doored walk-in that put his apartment to shame. "For instance, those of us who think they'll be ready for the opera that begins in thirty minutes, but haven't gotten dressed yet."

"Pfft," Fleur sniffed as she disappeared into the cavernous closet. "You know zat I do not take long to get ready."

"What were you doing for the past hour and a half since I last spoke to you?"

"Taking a bath."

"Taking a bath?"

"Zat is what I said, oui."

"And that took an hour and a half?"

"Ask your sister."

Bill furrowed his brow at that. "Why?"

"It iz a girl thing."

"Ah." Bill couldn't resist a smile at that, shaking his head and glancing around the bedroom as he waited for her to reemerge. It looked like something out of a Sotheby's catalog. Antique furniture filled the room and every available surface sported some eye-catching souvenir: here a vase of pink and white roses, there a Romanesque bust of some long dead historical figure. The bed alone was a feat of engineering; without magic he didn't know how she would have been able to get it through the door. An ornate gilded mirror hung on the wall above a striking vanity table, complete with matching padded stool, offset slightly from the foot of the bed. It was like he'd fallen off a broom into Marie Antoinette's boudoir. He was half tempted to ask for some cake.

"Are you thinking I should wear ze burgundy or ze blue?"

"Hmm?" Rousing himself from his interested study of the room, Bill focused on the voice. Fleur was framed in the closet door holding two dresses: one burgundy, one an iridescent shade of pale blue. "Which one do you prefer?"

She gave him a petulant look, tapping her foot. "I am not ze one 'oo will be looking at it all night. Which do you prefer, monsieur?"

When she started calling him monsieur he knew she was annoyed. Grinning, he nodded to the dress in her left hand. "The blue. Everyone else will be wearing dark colors; you'll stand out this way."

Fleur beamed at him. "We will stand out anyway, oui?"

"Absolutely."

"You are jus' wanting to draw attention to yourself I theenk."

"What, you mean because I'm dating the most beautiful woman in Britain? What would give you that idea?"

Fleur laughed, shaking her head. "You are 'orrible," she scolded, mock-scandalized, as she turned back into the closet to rehang the burgundy gown.

"You're mixing up your phraseology again, Fleur," he corrected her, moving deeper into the room. "You mean I'm adorable."

"You know what I mean!"

"Yes, that's why I'm correcting you." He sat on the end of the bed, smoothing the front of his dress robes: navy blue, to counter his flaming red hair.

"I do not know 'ow your family 'as endured you for all zese years," Fleur sighed, exiting the closet. She'd slipped the dress on while she was inside and it hugged her slender body like a satin glove. "'ave you seen my mama's pearls?"

"Not lately."

She cursed softly under her breath in French. "I do not know where zey could 'ave gone," she fretted, moving to the vanity and searching through the tidy rows of makeup and beauty aides. "I 'ad zem when we were at ze reception last week for zose visiting bankers at Gringotts."

"I'm sure they'll turn up," Bill assured her.

"I can only 'ope zey do before mama decides she would like to visit 'er daughter!" Sighing heavily, Fleur sank down on the vanity's stool. "I do not want to explain 'ow it is zat I lost grand-mere's pearls." Gathering herself up, she turned to the mirror and began sorting out her makeup. "But, zat will be for tomorrow. Per'aps zey are at ze office?"

"Maybe."

"I will search- Oh, pah!" Looking over her shoulder, Fleur glared at him. "I will not be going back to work until Thursday!"

Bill gave her a soothing smile. "I'll look for you, Fleur," he reassured her. "Don't worry, if the goblins have them hidden away somewhere I'll find them."

She gave him a bright smile. "Je t'aime," she purred, stretching out her hand to squeeze his knee.

Bill smiled. "Je t'aime."

Giggling she turned back to the mirror, cheerfully humming a featured aria from the opera they would be attending that evening. Her hair hung down her back in a shimmering curtain, coming to a stop a tantalizing inch or so above her tail bone. The combination of her sleek white limbs, cool blue gown and silvery blond hair made her look like a figure carved in alabaster by a Renaissance master. Bill watched as she added color to her cheekbones and lips and decided she didn't need it; no more than the Venus de Milo needed a robe. "Fleur?"

"Oui, mon amour?"

"I found them."

"Hmm? What 'ave you found, Bill?"

Standing up, he crossed the brief distance between them and came to a stop behind her. Leaning forward, he rested his chin lightly on the top of her head and met her eyes in the mirror. "Your pearls," he murmured.

Fleur looked at him in askance, and seemed ready to ask a question, but he shushed her and kissed the crown of her hair. With a quick jerk of his arm, he felt the familiar slither of her pearls filling his palm. "Curse Breakers learn to have sticky fingers," he explained, raising his hand so the strand of pearls dangled between his fingers.

Fleur gasped and covered her heart with both hands, delighted. "Oh, Bill, you 'ave found zem!" she exclaimed excitedly. Craning her head around, she dropped a kiss on his lips before turning back to the front again and beaming at him in the mirror. "Why did you say you 'ad not seen zem! You 'ad zem wiz you all zis time!"

Bill grinned. "I had my reasons."

"'ow long 'ave you 'ad zem, you bad boy?"

"Since the night of the reception. You gave them to me to keep safe."

"I did?"

"Yes, you did. I don't expect you to remember; you were a bit tipsy."

"Ooh!" She crossed her arms petulantly. "Veela do not get tipsy."

"All right then. You were drunk."

"OOH!"

Bill laughed, leaning further forward to press a conciliatory kiss to her shoulder. "Either way, I've been keeping them safe for you. I was beginning to wonder when you'd ever ask for them back."

"Why did you not jus' give zem to me?"

"Because I wanted you to ask for them."

"Why!"

"Why don't you ask and find out?"

With a dramatic sigh, and an equally dramatic head tilt, Fleur asked, "Bill, will you give me my pearls?"

"Eh, eh. What's the magic word?"

"Bill!"

"That's not it."

"BILL! Please?"

"There you go." Kissing her other shoulder, he whispered near her ear, "Close your eyes."

Fleur turned her head and regarded him suspiciously. "Why?"

"Please?" He kissed the tip of her nose as an added incentive. "See? I even remembered the magic word."

Fleur squinted at him, as if trying to discern his ulterior motives; now he knew how Fred and George felt. Eventually her face softened and she gave him a forgiving smile. Pecking him on the lips, she cooed, "Next time you must remember it in French, oui? Or no dice."

Bill grinned, straightening up as she faced forward again, and thought how oddly endearing it was to hear Fleur using such a colloquial expression. He watched her raise her chin primly, back ramrod straight, hands crossed coquettishly in her lap. "No peeking," he warned.

"You 'ave my word."

Raising the pearls, he lowered them until they draped around her throat, then fastened the clasp. The strand came to an apex below her heart, framed neatly by the gown's sharp V-neck. "Okay," he said, resting his hands on her shoulders. "You can open them now."

Giggling, Fleur opened her eyes.

And gasped.

"Oh... Bill..." she breathed, reaching towards the mirror before thinking better of it and reversing her hand's direction to touch the pearls that hung around her throat. "Bill..."

Dangling like a pendant from the rope of pearls, nestled just above the valley of her breasts, was a diamond ring.

"For you," Bill murmured against her hair, watching her reflection as her face moved through stages of shock, amazement, disbelief and awe. "I found it in an abandoned villa in Provence when I was interning one summer with Gringotts. We were digging for buried treasure, but all I found was that ring in the attic." He chuckled. "The Goblins would have my head now if they found out I kept it from them." He ran his hands up and down her arms. "Well?"

"I... Oh, Bill..." Her eyes were still wide as she stared at the ring in the mirror, as if she couldn't bring herself to look down and see the real thing in case it turned out to be an illusion. "I can't believe..."

"Well that's no good," Bill said with a smile, sidling around to stand beside her. "No good at all. You've got to believe, Fleur." He passed a hand over the ring where it rested against her skin, mouthing a silent incantation. The ring disappeared.

Fleur gasped. "No!" She looked up at him with stricken eyes.

Bill grinned. "Shhh," he soothed, kissing her forehead.

He sank down on one knee.

Fleur, he was pleased to see, was holding her breath as he turned her to face him. Raising his hand, he unfurled his fingers to reveal the ring resting on his palm. The young woman in front of him sucked in a quick breath but went back to holding it almost immediately. She was squirming a little in anticipation, and he could see tears building up behind the dark fringe of her lashes.

"Do you need me to ask the question, Fleur?" he murmured, looking up into her eyes.

She gave him a quick nod. "Please," she whispered tearfully, her fingers flexing in her lap.

"Can you guess what it is?"

That made her smile, coupled with a sharp laugh that caused twin tears to spill down her cheeks. "If it is somezing uzzer zan what I theenk it is, zen I may 'ave to kill you, Bill Weasley."

"Hmm... Maybe I should think about this then," he teased. "I don't fancy being killed because I got a question wrong. I got enough of that from the Sphinxes in Egypt."

"Bill!" Fleur laughed; the gasping, hurried laugh of someone who is too excited to breathe but knows there's more to come. "S'il vous plait!"

"Well, if you insist." Winking, he lifted her left hand out of her lap, brushing his lips over her knuckles before looking up once more into her eyes. "Fleur?"

Fleur was trembling faintly. Bill could feel her fingers shaking against his palm. "Oui, mon Bill?" she whispered.

"Will you make me," kiss to her palm, "the luckiest," kiss to her wrist, "happiest," kiss on the tips of her fingers, "most blessed man in Britain," once more meeting her eyes, "by becoming my wife?"

There was a split second reprieve as she sucked in a little more air to join what was already squeezed in her lungs.

Then she fell apart.

"OUI!" she exclaimed, wrapping her arms around his neck and squeezing so tightly he could barely breathe. "Oh, oui, mon Bill! Mon amour! Yes, yes, oui!"

They tumbled backward as Fleur threw herself at him, and Bill found himself in the enviable position of being trapped beneath a giddy, deliriously happy Veela who was drowning him with kisses. She was glowing more than usual, and Bill found that his usual immunity to her charms was faltering under the sheer onslaught of her joy. "I have to put it on your finger, Fleur," he laughed as she squirmed on top of him, dropping kisses down his throat and along his jaw.

"Oh, yes...!" she gasped, pausing long enough for him to slip the ring onto her slender finger before immediately diving back into her ministrations.

"You said yes," he said with a grin as she lavished him with kiss after kiss.

"Of course I did, you foolish man!" Fleur giggled. "Did you theenk I would say non?"

"No, I mean you said yes." He ran his fingers through her silky hair. "Not just oui."

She raised her head, eyes twinkling. Her lipstick was smudged and her eyes red-rimmed from tears. "I 'ad an excellent teacher."

"So it seems."

"Even if 'e is a pompous imbécile."

"A pompous imbecile who is going to marry you, Fleur Delacour."

That set her off again and she collapsed on his chest, cooing excitedly as she tucked her face into his throat. "Fleur Delacour-Weasley," she purred. "Fleur Weasley. Mrs. Bill Weasley. Oh, Bill!" She kissed him soundly on the lips before breaking away to say, "Your mother will be very un'appy."

"Why?"

"She 'ates me!"

Bill shook his head, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist. "She'll love you," he assured her.

"Non, she 'ates me, mon coeur."

"Then she'll learn to love you."

"'ow do you know?"

"Well I did, didn't I?"

"You are different. You are not going to be a muzzer in law."

"True. Be a bit funny if I was, wouldn't it? Probably raise a few questions. Not the least of which being my dress size."

Fleur laughed, resting her cheek on his chest, just above his heart. Bill closed his eyes, feeling the excited vibrations that were still exploding through her muscles as she lounged on top of him. "We're going to be late," he murmured after a few minutes.

"For what?"

"The opera."

"I don't want to go."

"You mean you made me choose a dress for nothing?"

Fleur raised her head again and gave him a wicked grin. "Pardon," she apologized. "'ow about I let you 'elp me take it off as rècompense?"

Bill grinned. "What opera?"

"Mmm..." Nuzzling his cheek, Fleur whispered, "You are a fast learner."

He pressed a kiss to her throat, feeling her pulse thundering against his lips. "I had a good teacher," he murmured. "You know how it goes."

"Yes," she purred. "Yes, I do."

THE END