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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Illicit Affairs - Bill Weasley x Reader

A/N:Hey, guys! It’s been a few days (almost a week) since I posted. Here’s a little something I’ve been working on. I’m quite proud of it. The perfect amount of angst and fluff. Hope you guys enjoy! Click here to check out my other Bill x Reader fic, All Too Well.

Song:Illicit Affairs - Taylor Swift

Word Count:3,155

Warnings:Cheating, crying, mention of “shagging” (just the word used), kissing, saying goodbye, fluff, angst.

“Look,” He said softly, brushing the hair away from your face, tucking a strand behind your ear, “It's… complicated…”

You shook your head, “How is it complicated, Bill? I’m in love with you.”

“Kid…”

“Don’t call me kid!” You exclaimed, your whole body shaking as tears began spilling down your cheeks. Your fists were clenched by your sides as Bill wrapped his arms around you.

After debating whether or not to return the embrace, you felt yourself leaning into his chest as he stroked your hair. His button-up was stained with your tears, but you couldn’t care less. Clinging onto him, you allowed the tears to fall, not caring who saw or heard them. And Bill held you, shushing you softly, before lifting you into his arms and carrying you to bed.

Holding you in one arm, Bill pulled back your quilt, setting you down onto the mattress, pulling the fabric back up over you.

By the time your head hit the pillow, you were fast asleep, your chest rising steadily as you sunk into the sheets. Bill climbed into bed beside you, opting to stay above the covers, his hand sliding up and down your side until he was sure you wouldn’t wake up.

When you woke up a few hours later, you couldn’t bring yourself to open your eyes. Because deep down, you knew he was gone. You could feel it. The emptiness of your bed without him. Your heart ached for him to be back with you, so you did the only thing you knew how to do: you shut down. Burying your head into your pillow, you allowed your sobs to take control over you. But you kept your eyes closed. You knew that if you opened them, you’d see what was right in front of you: an empty space.

Bill walked up the steps of The Burrow, waving his wand and muttering “alohamora” to open the door. Once inside, he slipped out of his cloak, placing it in the closet by the living room. Slipping off his shoes, he made his way up the creaky steps to his room. But he seemed to have forgotten one important detail: he wasn’t alone.

Before he could even reach his room, Fred and George appeared before him, pretending to check an imaginary watch and shaking their heads.

“You’re late, Billy.” Fred said, placing his hands on his hips.

George snickered, “I didn’t think Fleur would be the type to keep you out all night.”

When Bill didn’t respond, Fred let out a gasp, “Unless…”

“You weren’t with Fleur.” George finished, casting a glance to his twin before shoving his older brother in his room.

Once the three Weasley’s were crammed inside Bill’s bedroom, the twins ushered their brother to the bed, forcing him to sit.

“Mind telling us what’s going on, Billy?” Fred asked, tapping his foot, “Fleur’s a very beautiful girl, what is she- one thirty-forth Veela?”

“No, Freddie, a quarter Veela.” George smirked, nudging his brother in the ribs.

Fred grinned, “Even better!”

Bill rolled his eyes, “Are you guys done yet?”

“Not until you tell us what’s going on.”

“Nothing’s going on,” The eldest Weasley hissed, “And if something were, it wouldn’t concern either of you.”

Fred raised his brows, “You see, Bill, it does. Because we know exactly what’s been happening. You can thank our newest invention for that. An extendable ear. Quite handy, if I do say so myself.”

Bill’s eyes widened, “What exactly do you know?”

“Oh, no, we’re keeping that to ourselves. No need for you to know.”

“None of your concern,” George quipped, earning a laugh from his brother.

“Tell me!” Bill screamed, his eyes filled with anger, “So help me Godric if you two don’t tell me what you know-”

Fred held his hands up, “Woah, woah, Billy, no need to be so hostile.”

“We’re not telling you anything until you ‘fess up. So go ahead and tell us about your little lady friend.”

He sighed, laying back on his bed, “You won’t give up, will you?”

“Nope,” They answered, sitting on the edge of his bed, “Go on, Billy, tell us.”

“It all started in my third year…”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Year 2

Bill watched as you waved your wand, sending a blast of fire towards a practice dummy, sending it flying back. A smile spread on his face as you turned towards him, excitedly grinning from ear to ear. Before either of you knew what you were doing, your arms were wrapped around one another, holding each other in a tight embrace.

“You were fantastic, Y/N!’ Bill exclaimed, pulling away from the hug, "I reckon we’ll be breaking through that cursed ice in no time.”

“You really think so?” You asked, gazing up at him through your lashes, feeling the heat on your cheeks.

He nodded, taking your shoulders in his hands and craning his head to be at eye level with you, “You’re going to do great things, kid.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“Seems innocent enough.” Fred said, crossing his arms, “But remind me how much older you are than her?”

“Two years,” Bill answered, “We met when I was in my fourth year and she was in her second.”

“So you were falling for a twelve year old?” George asked, sticking out his tongue in mock disgust.

He shook his head, “No, it wasn’t like that. Not then, at least.”

“So when was it like that?” George questioned, raising a brow.

“I’ll tell you when I get there,” Bill grumbled, “Now let me tell my story…”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Year 2

“Bill!” You exclaimed, rushing over to him to break him free from the ice. His freckled face was turning blue, ice beginning to crawl up his throat.

“Incendio!” You shouted, waving your wand. The ice surrounding him broke away, leaving a shivering Bill who rushed towards you, pressing an innocent kiss to the top of your head as you apologized.

He let out a breathy laugh, rubbing his arms up and down to warm himself, “I’m alright, kid.”

“Are you sure?” You asked, voice quivering as you looked him up and down.

Nodding, Bill smiled, “I’m more worried about you, honestly.”

“What about me?”

“It’s not important, let’s get this ice under control, yeah?”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“You never told us you got trapped in ice!” Fred huffed, his forehead creased, “That would’ve been so much fun!”

“Believe me, it was not.”

George smirked, “But you had someone to warm you up…”

“George! She was twelve!”

He held up his hands in mock defeat, “Continue…”

“In our third year, I told her about this girl I liked. Her name was Emily. I claimed to be in love with her, so I tasked Y/N with asking her if I had any chance with her.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Year 3

You clenched your fist, brows furrowed in anger as Emily mocked the Weasley family.

“The Weasley’s may be good-looking, but that’s about the only thing they’re good for,” Emily snorted, “They don’t have money or manners, and there’s too many of them to keep track of for my liking. Honestly-”

“Shut it!” You hissed, stomping your foot into the ground, “The Weasley’s are the kindest, most welcoming Wizarding Family I’ve ever met, and I won’t take you dragging their name through the ground! Bill Weasley is a better wizard than you’ll ever be. He’s kind, he’s smart, and talented, and he certainly wouldn’t disrespect another family! You don’t deserve him, Emily!”

She raised her brows, “Maybe he doesn’t deserve me.”

“He doesn’t deserve to be treated badly by you,” Anger flared in your eyes as you spoke, “You’re just jealous that he’s too good for you.”

Emily stuck her nose up, “So be it, I wasn’t interested anyway.”

The two of you walked separate ways, with her heading towards The Three Broomsticks to gossip and you stomping away with your arms crossed, determined to reveal Emily’s true colors to Bill.

But unbeknownst to you, he had heard the whole exchange. Although he was devastated that Emily had broken his heart, he was disappointed that she had disrespected his family, but he couldn’t help being proud of you for standing up for him. In that moment, his heart beat faster. You and him… Could it… but he shook the thoughts out of his head. No, it couldn’t.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“Remind me what her name was?” George said angrily, “I’ve got some Wildfire Wizbangs coming her way and-”

Bill shook his head, “Good luck getting to her. She’ll have your names plastered all over the paper. Works for Rita Skeeter now.”

Fred rolled his eyes, “I’d like her to have a piece of my mind… no one talks down on the Weasley’s and gets away with it.”

“Can I get on with it now?”

The twins nod and their brother continues, “In my sixth year, I had a new feeling… something I hadn’t felt before…”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Year 4

As soon as Charlie sauntered into The Three Broomsticks, a model of a dragon clutched in his hands, Bill knew he had made a mistake. Your eyes lit up upon seeing the second-born Weasley brother, and you extended your hand.

Charlie looked down at you awkwardly, shaking your hand with three fingers, “Charlie Weasley.”

“My younger brother.” Bill interupted, tapping his foot aggressively on the floor.

“Y/N L/N.” You smiled, returning your hand to your lap.

As Bill watched you and Charlie talk among yourselves, he was hit with a pang of jealousy. So he threw back butterbeer, hoping the sweet flavor would wash over him and throw his jealousy out the window. But it didn’t. It got worse. And all he could do was sit there and watch it happen.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“You’re telling me that Y/N had the hots for Charlie?” Fred questioned, staring down at his brother.

Bill groaned, “She swears she didn’t, that she doesn’t, but in the moment, I got ahead of myself. I was beyond jealous and I couldn’t bring myself to realize why.”

“Oh, Billy, you’re in deep.” Fred laughed.

George let out a sigh, “Keep going, Billy, we don’t have all night.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Year5

You chewed at your bottom lip, standing before Bill with your hands clasped behind your back. Your eyes were stinging with tears at the thought of saying goodbye to one of your closest friends. You had known this day would come, but you hadn’t been prepared for it.

“Bill, I-” But you were cut off when his arms wrapped around you, enveloping you in a bone-crushing hug. You placed your hands on his bag, tears spilling onto his robes as he rubbed circles into your back.

“Y/N, can I be honest?” He asked, his cheeks a shade of pink.

Nodding, he continued, “Out of all the friends I’ve made here at Hogwarts, I think I’m going to miss you the most.”

“Bill, I’m going to miss you, too,” You said through the tears.

He pressed a thumb to your cheek, wiping the droplets away before they could fall down your face.

“You’ll visit, won’t you?” You asked, “In Hogsmeade?”

“I’ll be there,” Bill smiled, “But only if you promise to visit the Burrow.”

You nodded, a sad smile on your face, “I promise.”

Bill looked behind him, watching as students moved towards the exit. Looking back at you, he pressed a kiss to your head, “I’ll see you around, kid.”

“See you…”

Your heart broke a bit that day, watching him walk away. But nothing could prepare you for what would happen years later.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Year6

Walking into Defense Against the Dark Arts, you felt a flutter in your chest. For the first time in nearly a year, you’d be able to see Bill Weasley- and you couldn’t be happier.

You walked in with a slight skip in your step, Charlie trailing behind you.

Upon pushing the door open, a certain ginger smiled at you, “Miss me, kid?”

Rushing towards him, you practically knocked him to the ground, “More than you know.”

It wasn’t until Charlie cleared his throat as other students began piling in that the two of you broke away from your embrace, looking nervously in opposite directions.

“Now that the reunion’s out of the way, we can move on to the big question: What are you doing here?”

As Bill began explaining, you couldn’t help but notice the empty space on his robe. He didn’t have his prefect badge anymore. Not that he would, having graduated, but it made your heart sink even further in your chest. Things were changing, too fast.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“Not twelve anymore, is she?”

“Shut it, George.” Bill huffed, rolling his eyes.

George shook his head, “Really, Bill, two years isn’t that bad.”

“It’s bad when she’s in her sixth year and I’ve already graduated.”

“Depends on how you look at it.” Fred noted, “So when did you see her next?”

“With dad, actually.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Year 7

“Y/N? Is that you?”

Turning around, you saw a familiar ginger standing behind you, his hair swaying by his shoulders. Within seconds of seeing your face, he was stumbling towards you like a child in Honeydukes, gripping his father’s hand and leading him towards you.

After seeing a knowing look on his father’s face, Bill let go and cleared his throat, “Y/N, this is my father, Arthur Weasley.”

“Bill,” You laughed, “We’ve met.”

Turning to Arthur, you smiled, “It’s good to see you again, Mr. Weasley.”

“Good to see you, too, Miss Y/N.”

“So what are you doing here?” Bill asked, searching your eyes for an answer.

You sighed, shaking your head, “It’s a long story that I’ll explain later. Now, I’ve got to convince them to allow me in without credentials.”

“We can vouch for you, if you’d like.” Bill offered, a dreamy smile on his face.

“You’d really do that?”

He nodded, “Anything for you.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“Almost forgot she came over on holiday.” Fred said, crossing his legs, “She was stunning then, I want to know how she looks now.”

Bill grumbled, “She’s too old for you, Fred.”

“And according to you, too young for you.” George quipped, turning to face his brother, “So, tell me, Billy, how exactly did you end up where you are now? You’ve got the job, you’ve got a girl, but you keep going back to her. Why?”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

It had been four years since you had seen Bill Weasley. And now, seeing him walk into the conference room, cuts littering his arms, you couldn’t help but take it all in. He had a fang hanging from one year, his ginger hair was combed back, and he was dressed far nicer than you had remembered.

Once his eyes met yours, he made his way towards you, slipping into a seat beside you as one of the Head Auror rambled on about protecting Gringotts.

The two of you stole small glances at one another during the meeting, which seemed to last for ages. When it was all said and done, your chairs were mere inches away from each other, your hand slipped in his. It was innocent. At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself.

It wasn’t until you started getting frequent owls from Bill that you started wondering if the two of you had something more.

Your first kiss had happened fast. Bill was going on about Gringotts and how little budgeting they had, on the brink of hyperventilation, when you had pressed a kiss to his lips. You hadn’t expected him to lean into it, but you had been wrong. Before either of you knew what was happening, you were pushed up against your desk as he deepened the kiss, your hands running through his hair as he held your face in his hands.

When he had pulled away, he muttered a small goodbye and left without another word.

Not even a month later, he was galivanting around Diagon Alley with Fleur Delacour on his arm.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“That was your own bloody fault, you twat!” George exclaimed, whacking his brother in the stomach.

“Oof!” Bill groaned, propping himself up, “It was a mistake, alright? A big one.”

Fred was silent for a moment, a rarity for him, “Which part?”

“What?” Bill asked softly, a frown on his face.

“Kissing her or leaving her?”

He shook his head, “Leaving.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

When you saw Bill a few months later, you could hardly be in the same room as him, let alone look at him. He kept waiting for you to meet his gaze, so he could ask you to speak with him privately, but you never did.

It was until the meeting was over that he barred you from leaving, begging for you to hear him out.

You told him he had a minute to state his case and then you were leaving.

So he used that minute as best he could, “I’m in love with you, Y/N. I always have been. Granted, it took me a while to figure it out, and an even longer time to admit it, but I can’t not be with you. We make sense, kid. So few things make sense.”

He allowed you to process the words. And next thing you knew, you were kissing him all over again. You knew it was wrong- he was with Fleur. But in that moment you didn’t care. He loved you like you loved him. And that was all that mattered.

So when a few months later, he hadn’t called things off with her, you were starting to get nervous. You hated the secrecy and betrayal of it all. You felt bad for Fleur, you ached for his company, and you felt sick thinking about the two of them together.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“So are you going to call it off?” George asked with a sigh.

“I dunno,” Bill admitted, “I love Y/N more than anything. But I’m scared I’ll screw it up again.”

Fred rolled his eyes, “You already have. You’re shagging the both of them!”

“Fred,” Bill warned, “Not now.”

“All I’m saying is that you have more history with Y/N. Mum likes her more, anyway. You’re her golden child, she’d want you to marry her.”

“We’re not getting into marriage right now, Fred.”

He nodded, “Exactly, not now. But Fleur’s a beautiful woman, too, and she’ll be waiting for a proposal. You can’t keep seeing the both of them. No wonder Y/N’s a mess. She’s having to share you. And poor Fleur doesn’t even know! Look, I’m a bit of an arse-”

“A bit?” Bill interupted, receiving a glare from his brother.

“But I wouldn’t do that to a girl. Any girl. Make it right, Bill.”

The twins left shortly after, leaving their words behind. Bill layon his bed, staring up at his ceiling and then at his nightstand. A picture of you was haphazardly framed on the top, a bright smile on your face as you drank butterbeer.

He had to make a decision, and he had to make one fast.

All Too Well - Bill Weasley x Reader

A/N: This one is soangsty though. Like holy sh*t. Enjoy!

Song: All Too Well (10 minute version)

Pairing: Bill Weasley x Reader

Warning: Implied *eh hem*, breakup, moving on, “die”

The air was cold as you approached the burrow, walking side by side with Bill. Your y/h scarf was hung loosely over your shoulders, the frayed ends brushing against the wrapped gift in your hands. A smile was spread on your nose, small snow flurries falling around you.

Before Bill could even knock, a short, stout ginger threw the door open, rushing out onto the lawn and throwing her arms around your boyfriend. He laughed, stumbling back a few steps as he wrapped her arms around her.

“Oh, Bill, it’s so good to have you home!” She exclaimed, patting his cheeks gently. Slowly, she turned to you, a toothy smile on her face, “Oh, Bill, I didn’t know you were bringing a guest! Now who is this?”

Your smile fell in that moment, but it was quickly, and forcefully replaced. Extending a hand, you introduced yourself, “Nice to meet you, I’m Y/N. Bill’s girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend!” She exclaimed, jumping back in surprise, “Oh, Bill, you should’ve told us! She’s quite a looker, isn’t she?”

A nervous laugh escaped your lips, “You must be Bill’s mum?”

“Oh, forgive me, dear!” She took your hand, shaking it roughly, “I’m Molly Weasley. But you can call me Molly. Or mum. Most of the kid’s friends call me that.”

Bill shook his head, letting out a breathy laugh, “No, they don’t.”

“Well,” Molly sighed, “Let’s get you warmed up inside. No sense in standing out here in the cold when we’ve got a fire going inside. Come on, dear!”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Slipping off your wool coat, you hung it on top of your h/c scarf on a nearby hook. You had handed Bill the wrapped present, which he held to one side as he gave his siblings one armed hugs, grinning from ear to ear.

In the next ten minutes, you were introduced to more people than you knew possible. Bill’s dad, Arthur, was more than entertaining. After finding out that you were a half-bloof, he was asking about your experiences having a muggle as a parent. You had been in Ron’s year in school, so you had already met him and Ginny. And although you had heard of Fred, you hadn’t been properly introduced. As for Percy, it was no wonder you had never spoken a word to him at Hogwarts. He didn’t speak much to anybody he deemed “unworthy of his time”. The Weasley’s appologized that the second oldest Weasley wouldn’t be able to make it.

“Charlie,” They had said, “Is preparing for the birth of a dragon this week, so he won’t be able to make it for Christmas. He should be here to ring in the New Year, though!”

The next thing you knew, you were being ushered over over to the living room. Taking a seat on the long and narrow couch, a large plush book was thrust into your hands. On the front cover, a photograph of the Weasley family was haphazardly pasted on, peeling off at the corners.

The corners of your mouth lifted up as you began flipping through the photo album. You spotted a picture of Arthur and Molly on their wedding day, two rubber duckies topping a lopsided cake. Molly heavily pregnant with her first child–Bill. Soon, your eyes were floating across the pages from Bill’s childhood. He was an only child for two years, then came along Charlie.

One picture caused you to pause. A smiling five year old Bill looked at the camera, his cheeks as red as his hair as snow fell around him. He sported a knit sweater embroidered with a “B” and a red and gold hat hiding his flaming red hair. Looking up at him, you smiled at the similarities, resting your head on his shoulder.

“So, Y/N, tell us about yourself,” Arthur said, “Old Billy hasn’t told us a single thing.”

Swallowing, you forced another smile on your face, “What do you want to know?”

“What do you do for a living?” Molly asked.

George interupted before you could answer, “How’d you meet old Billy here? He’s old enough to be your grandfather!”

“Did you grow up with rubber ducks? How about cars? What was it like to be raised as a muggle?” Arthur questioned, resting his chin on his hand.

Ginny sighed, “What house were you in again?”

“Why are you with Bill? He’s a bit old, don’t you think?” Ron said inbetween bites of chicken.

Percy wrinkled his nose, “What are your views on the Ministry’s newest order?”

Your eyes widened, all the questions hitting you at once. Squeezing Bill’s hand for comfort, you waited for the questions to die out. He smiled down at you, nodding gently.

“Well, Molly, to answer your question, I’m a Keeper for the Kenmare Kestrels. I got the offer as soon as I left Hogwarts. It’ll be my second year playing on the team this June.” You let out the breath you had been holding since the questions had begun, “And, Ginny, I was in y/h. Percy, I’ll be the first to admit that I haven’t been keeping up with the Ministry’s policies as well as I should have. I live a pretty busy life, but I’m working on it.”

Continuing, you looked to Arthur, “I grew up around magic. My mother made sure I was introduced to it as a young age. I grew up surrounded by wizards with all of my extended family on my mum’s side. My father’s side knows very little about magic, but he knows the basics and comes to all my Quidditch games with my mum.”

Now, onto the questions you had been avoiding. How the age difference between you and Bill affected your relationship. How you met. The usual questions you were pelted with.

“Bill and I are only nine years apart,” You blurted out, your whole body tense, “It’s not too big of a gap, if you think about it. I’ll be twenty in the new year and he’ll be twenty nine. We both know plenty of people with even larger age differences that have made it work. It’s almost… normal for us. We don’t think about it too much.”

Molly nodded, “Completely get it. You two seem comfortable together.”

“We are,” You said, “We met at one of my Quidditch games, actually. Bill’s friends with one of the Chasers on my team, so he brought him back and introduced him to everyone. We hit it right off the broom.”

“Oh, that’s lovely!” Molly exclaimed, “Isn’t it, Arthur?”

“So, did you guys use rubber ducks often? What’s the function?”

With a glance towards Bill, he silently excused the two of you from the table, “We’ll go ahead and start cleaning up. Take the night off, mum.”

“Are you sure, Bill? I can just wave my wand and-”

He nodded, “We’ve got it. Promise.”

Bill led you into the kitchen by the hand, pressing a kiss to your temple as you breathed, your head spinning.

“Sorry about them,” He sighed, “They can be a bit intense when I bring a girl home.”

You were silent for a moment, chewing on your bottom lip, “Why didn’t you tell them about us?”

“I guess it just slipped my mind.”

Brushing the hair out of your face, you looked up at him, “They didn’t even know I was coming, Bill.”

“It was a surprise.”

You shook your head, dropping your gaze. But he simply took your hands in his, waving his wand to turn on a nearby stereo. You recognized it from your dad’s office. He had one set up in the corner, playing old records. The music began and Bill began swaying slowly.

After a few minutes, he was twirling you around the cramped kitchen, causing you to nearly burst out laughing when he nearly knocked over a bag of flower.

“We really should start cleaning up…” You trailed off, your lips mere inches from his.

“It can wait.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

You layed beside Bill on his bed, one of his flannels wrappd around your shoulders. You had packed plenty of clothes for the week, but had insisted on wearing one of his shirts to bed, inhaling the smell of cinnamon.

He rolled onto his side, “Lucky Ginny has a bit of a cold or else mum would have had you sleep in her room.”

“I’m just surprised she didn’t put me in Charlie’s room.”

“His room is a bit embarassing. Dragons everywhere. She wouldn’t want to subject you to that.”

You stifled a laugh, “Oh, I’m sure.”

Bill propped himself up on his elbows, “What do you say we go for a ride?”

“What kind of ride?”

“In the family car.”

You raised a brow, “You know how to drive?”

“We all do. Except for Percy. He refused to learn,” Bill said, raking a hand through his hair, “What do you say?”

“I say yes. On one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“You come the Quidditch playoffs in February.”

Bill nodded, “I’ll work my schedule around it.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Tears streamed down your face, small cries escaping your lips as you sobbed into your pillow. Your heart wasn’t broken- it was shattered.

After joy riding in the Ford Anglia, which led to you and Bill steaming up the windows in the middle of an empty field, you had fully expected him to attend the Quidditch Playoffs. You were being recognized as a star Keeper. It was an honor. And he hadn’t shown. He should have been there. But he wasn’t. And it broke you.

He had sent you an owl, writing “I’m sorry I wasn’t there, emergency at Gringotts.”

But it kept happening.

Bill hadn’t shown up to a single match you had played the whole season. Eventually, you couldn’t take it anymore. You confronted him, asking if he even cared about you or your career. He went silent, explaining that his word didn’t revolve around you.

You left his flat that day, his words repeating in your head, “Maybe if we had been closer in age, it would have worked.”

But within a few months, he had a new girlfriend. A year younger than you. You had tried to ignore it, tried to move on. But you got an owl with a package clumsily tied to it’s talons.

Upon opening it, silent tears flipped down your cheeks. Inside was the golden watch you had given him, the clothes you kept at his flat, and the “promise ring” you had given him. Your father had given your mother one, and you liked the sentiment of it, so you had picked on out especially for him. And now it was in the palm of your head.

You digged deeper in the parcel, looking for the scarf you had accidentally left at his mum’s.

But in small letters, you realized you weren’t getting it back.

“Call the scarf a keepsake.”

You wouldn’t see the scarf again. The chances of you getting it back were about as high as it being wrapped around his new girlfriend’s neck. And that made you want to die.