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Harry Potter Fiction: Touched by Winter (Bill/Fleur) G
This is my entry for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
hecatesknickers's seasons and senses challenge.
My prompt: Touch; Winter; Angst, wedding.
I hope I did it justice.
Touched by Winter
I sit beside him in the hospital wing. For how long, I am not sure. Everybody else has gone away so I think for perhaps a long time. I have applied a lot of ointment to his wounds and it is all gone away now as well. Bill. My Bill. But I cannot stop touching his face.
I have always loved to touch his face. To stop has always been a little difficult for me. Such a funny, happy, handsome face he has had. Happy and funny, no, I do not know now. Handsome he always is.
I must learn this new handsome, I think, like I have learned the old. With my eyes and with my hands I touch him, and I know there will be many scars. Very many I can feel already. His face, it has been touched by winter. There are long, jagged ridges of his skin that are cold and smaller, warmer valleys. Mostly there is the coldness, like drifts of snow across his features. My Bill, he is always warm. I have never liked the cold.
“What are you thinking?” his voice I have not thought to hear tonight. He startles me.
“That for such a face as yours, there has been much weeping and sadness, a very lot of fear over it.” I tell him, running my fingers over the frost that…that…beast has left behind. “I will be much more beautiful than you at our wedding.”
“The bride is supposed to be,” he tells me. His smile is as I recall it. The withering of winter has not touched it. Now, it is like a good fire in a warm house. “We’re still on for this summer, then?”
“Why should we not be?” I ask him.
Perhaps I have spoken wrong, for he is not smiling at me as he always does. I have chased his smile away? I am afraid, no matter what I have said to his mother.
“I’m…Fleur, Greyback…changed me.” He is stumbling with his words. “I don’t know how much or how but I can feel it inside me. Something new. Different.”
Maybe I have not done wrongly. He is like his mother in his fear. Though he knows I have loved him for more than his pretty face, he worries that I will not love what is in him now. “You are a silly man. Am I not different from how you first met me? I have changed very much! If you are changed, then we will both learn it and we will live with it as we have lived with other ways of the other that we have not liked. That is what people in love do, is it not?”
“Yeah, it is.” He smiles as my fingers skate the paths of ice on his face. “You’re a beautiful girl, Fleur Delacour.”
In this way, I am happy again. “This I have already known. You must tell me something new that I have not heard.”
“First you have to tell me that I’m handsome.” It as a game we play. A silly, lovers game that I have missed very much in the last few hours.
“Fine, fine, I will tell you…” I must think. There are many things to say now. “You are a mess in the face, it is not pretty to look at, but...It is good that our wedding is soon because if I am to keep you, I think I must marry you before another girl falls in love with your face and tries to steal you from me, you are that handsome.”
He laughs, my Bill does, but it is true. I have not cared for winter, but the snow I have always found very beautiful.
hecatesknickers's seasons and senses challenge. My prompt: Touch; Winter; Angst, wedding.
I hope I did it justice.
Touched by Winter
I sit beside him in the hospital wing. For how long, I am not sure. Everybody else has gone away so I think for perhaps a long time. I have applied a lot of ointment to his wounds and it is all gone away now as well. Bill. My Bill. But I cannot stop touching his face.
I have always loved to touch his face. To stop has always been a little difficult for me. Such a funny, happy, handsome face he has had. Happy and funny, no, I do not know now. Handsome he always is.
I must learn this new handsome, I think, like I have learned the old. With my eyes and with my hands I touch him, and I know there will be many scars. Very many I can feel already. His face, it has been touched by winter. There are long, jagged ridges of his skin that are cold and smaller, warmer valleys. Mostly there is the coldness, like drifts of snow across his features. My Bill, he is always warm. I have never liked the cold.
“What are you thinking?” his voice I have not thought to hear tonight. He startles me.
“That for such a face as yours, there has been much weeping and sadness, a very lot of fear over it.” I tell him, running my fingers over the frost that…that…beast has left behind. “I will be much more beautiful than you at our wedding.”
“The bride is supposed to be,” he tells me. His smile is as I recall it. The withering of winter has not touched it. Now, it is like a good fire in a warm house. “We’re still on for this summer, then?”
“Why should we not be?” I ask him.
Perhaps I have spoken wrong, for he is not smiling at me as he always does. I have chased his smile away? I am afraid, no matter what I have said to his mother.
“I’m…Fleur, Greyback…changed me.” He is stumbling with his words. “I don’t know how much or how but I can feel it inside me. Something new. Different.”
Maybe I have not done wrongly. He is like his mother in his fear. Though he knows I have loved him for more than his pretty face, he worries that I will not love what is in him now. “You are a silly man. Am I not different from how you first met me? I have changed very much! If you are changed, then we will both learn it and we will live with it as we have lived with other ways of the other that we have not liked. That is what people in love do, is it not?”
“Yeah, it is.” He smiles as my fingers skate the paths of ice on his face. “You’re a beautiful girl, Fleur Delacour.”
In this way, I am happy again. “This I have already known. You must tell me something new that I have not heard.”
“First you have to tell me that I’m handsome.” It as a game we play. A silly, lovers game that I have missed very much in the last few hours.
“Fine, fine, I will tell you…” I must think. There are many things to say now. “You are a mess in the face, it is not pretty to look at, but...It is good that our wedding is soon because if I am to keep you, I think I must marry you before another girl falls in love with your face and tries to steal you from me, you are that handsome.”
He laughs, my Bill does, but it is true. I have not cared for winter, but the snow I have always found very beautiful.