#bill weasley headcanon
A Bad Case of Dragon Pox
Pairing:Bill Weasley x Reader
Word Count: 900
Warnings:Being sick.
Series:Part of my Touches to the Heart series! It is based on “Ten Wordless Ways to Say I Love You.”
Summary:In which, Bill Weasley takes care of you when you suffer from a bad case of dragon pox. (Trope: Sick Days)
Being sick was the absolute worst.
You were one of the lucky people in the world who rarely got sick. Your childhood hadn’t been plagued with too many illnesses. The Weasley family was quite the opposite. With seven children, illness was common and unusually rampant. You had been dating Bill Weasley, the oldest of the Weasley flock, for all of sixth year before he nervously invited you over to the Burrow for the summer. You accepted immediately, loving how Bill described his home in the warmest of manners, the love for his brothers and sisters flowing from his lips without him even noticing.
Unfortunately, said brothers and sisters had given you dragon pox.
On the bright side, dragon pox was an easily treated ailment as of now. Mrs. Weasley had apologized profusely when you had contracted the spotted sickness from Bill’s ten year old twin brothers. You shook your head, though the throbbing headache made it hard. She had cleared a room for you insisting you lay there till she finished brewing the potion in a few days time.
Surprisingly enough, Bill Weasley did well with the sick. Being the elder brother of six he’d seen his fair share of illnesses and nurtured to the sick a numerous amount of times. Bill Weasley was immune to dragon pox having had it when he was a boy so being the kind man he was, stayed by your bedside attentively.
“Checkmate.” he announced, proudly.
You groaned, blowing your nose and throwing the tissue into the trash. “I hate you.” you mumble. “I’m over here dying and you’re bragging about winning a chess game to a dying woman?”
He scoffed, “You, are overdramatic. You’re not dying. Just slowly suffering.”
You chuckle, giving a slight cough along with it. Bill passes you the cup of water on the bedside table, helping you take a sip carefully. “How about we do something more fun?” you raise your eyebrow at him playfully.
Bill smirks, “The words you’re saying are insinuating something vastly different than what I think you mean.”
A laugh leaves your lips as you throw a pillow at him. “You tosser! I meant can you tell me a story. You know you tell the best ones.”
He sighed dramatically. “I suppose I can tell one interesting tale.”
“Please?” you beg.
“Anything for you, my love.” he smiled, lounging back in the chair beside your bed. “Once upon a time there was a lonely bard who sang ballads of adventures in a crackity old tavern that resided off the cliffside of Mount Sampson.”
Bill’s stories wove their way into your imagination. The bard bellowed his songs as he traveled with the brave hero up the mountain to fight the evil emperor. Bill always had a way with words. His voice animated itself with calm, peaceful undertones that lulled your mind to a heavy sleep.
The last thing you remembered before falling under were warm lips pressing against your temple. “Goodnight, my love.” was whispered and sheets tucked as you fell asleep with a smile.
>>><<<
The next few days were spent with Bill. He was by your side most hours of the day, beating you in chess or telling you stories. When the rest of the Weasley’s went out to shop for school items, he stayed behind. At the time you hadn’t realized it either. It wasn’t until he came up with a hot bowl of chicken noodle soup that you noticed the odd silence in the house.
You sat up, eagerly taking the soup. “Tell your mum I said thanks.”
Bill’s jaw dropped dramatically as he watched you start on the soup. “I’m offended. Really. I made that soup all on my lonesome.”
Your eyes bulged. “Seriously? I didn’t know you could cook.”
He laughed. “Have you met my mother? I guess I should take it as a compliment that you mistook my soup for hers.”
“Speaking of which.” you said, putting down the bowl of soup. “It’s so quiet.”
“Ahh, that’s because my family all went out to buy school stuff. They’re picking up some things for you too.”
You smile gratefully. “You won’t snitch on me if I leave my room?”
He snickered, helping you up off the bed. “Of course not. No better time than now.”
Making your way down the stairs was freeing. Being stuck in the room all week had made you stir crazy. All was peaceful at the Burrow for a rare moment. The birds chirped and sunlight poured through the open windows. You crashed on the couch with a wide smile, turning on the small radio. Turning the dial was a tricky thing as you searched for a station that wasn’t playing Celestina Warbeck.
The deep strums of Muggle rock echoed through the speakers and Bill’s ears instantly perked up. You laughed, “Perform for me?”
He proceeded with an eager nod and what a performance it was. Bill Weasley played an excellent air-made electric guitar and made wonderful impressions of a rocker’s high pitched chords. When he finished he was out of breath, sweaty, and slightly red at the sight of your laughs.
“Well… did I do well?” he asked.
“Beautiful.” you laugh, curling into his side as he slipped his arms around you. The Muggle rock bringing back some of the usual chaos that tended to reside in the Burrow.
A perfect start to your sickly morning.
>>><<<
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