Chapter 3
♦♦♦ The room is on fire as she's fixing her hair ♦♦♦
Bill stops in his tracks upon seeing you in the lobby. The suitcase in his hand felt so suddenly like it weighed a tonne. The wand in his coat jacket silently screamed to be drawn and that a hex from its master's lips be drawn with it.
You laugh. It makes his eye twitch.
He calls out your name; it echoes in the large expanse of the room and time stops for a moment.
You turn and only then is your attention averted from the two men who also looked out to see who was calling for you.
"Ah, Weasley," one says, raising a hand to him.
Bill's jaw sets as he strides over.
The other man beside you whispers in your ear. Bill's body tenses at how you cover your mouth as you laugh, only to use the same hand to slap the man's arm.
Bill calls out to you again. You smile, "hello, darling. Ready to go?"
"Oh, no, don't take her away," one slaps a hand on Bill's shoulder, "we've only just started.
"Donovan," the other slap's the hand off Bill, "watch your hand. Lest you get the curse-breaker to curse you."
"Oh," Donovan pulls his hand away, "right, Bartholomew."
You look between the two men and chortle, covering your mouth with your fingers. Donovan, Bartholomew, and Bill look at you. The latter is deeply unimpressed by how you smiled at the two.
"What's got your knickers in a twist now, smarty pants?" Donovan asks.
Bill tenses at the mention of your knickers.
You punch Donovan's shoulder, "it's just so silly that you go by your first names!"
Donovan rubs his arms, feigning injury. Bartholomew tilts his head, "that we go by our first names?" He chuckles, "what should we ought to go by?"
You scoff and stare at them like it was the most obvious thing in the world, "Don and Bart."
Don and Bart? Bill's jaw clenches. Who were these ninnyhammers?
They groan at your words where you snigger, reaching out for Bill. When you take his arm and finally come to his side, his irritation is partially tempered, but Don and Bart are still at it.
Bart mutters, "horrendous."
"Agreed," Don shakes his head, "we're not 14 anymore."
"Says the not-14-year-old who still the expression knickers in a twist—" you point, "when I was laughing too!"
Don raises his hands in surrender, "you know what I meant. You're easy to get a reaction out of."
"Yeah," Bart says, "were-"
"How do you know each other?" Bill snaps, patience worn to inexistence.
You recognize his tone and squeeze his arm.
Bill does not turn to you, eyes too busy skimming the two.
You respond gently, "we were batchmates in Hogwarts, love."
"Ah," Bill says through a glare, "you work for the bank now?"
"Yeah," they say in unison, "we-"
Bill doesn't wait; he turns around and starts walking off, bringing you along with him. You whimper, looking over your shoulder as you try to keep up with his long strides, "Bi-"
"How long have they been talking you up?!" he mutters, eyes fixed upon the exit.
"Talking me up?" you mutter as you jog beside him, squeezing his arm as you did, "they weren't-" you gesture with two fingers, "talking me u—"
Bill's dry laughter cuts you off.
You huff, trying to slow him down by pulling him back. He's too strong to stop.
You both reach the door, and the moment you're outside, you yank your arm away from him and pull back, "that wasn't what w-"
"I recognize them," he snaps, hand tightening on the handle of his suitcase, "they were eyeing you in the soiree."
You huff and wrap your arms around yourself when a cold breeze whips between the two of you. Your hair is blown into your face, but you make no move to comb it back, "yeah... they said they saw me at the soiree but couldn't believe that it was me, which was why they didn't appro-"
"They didn't approach because-" he slaps a hand to his chest, "- I was with you."
Your face tenses. You rub your arms.
You watch him pace for a moment. You draw in a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself for how he'll react to what you'll say next, "Don and Bart are my friends. I happen to be glad that they came up and talked to me."
Bill's freezes, his jaw feathering at your admission.
"We were just chatting, Bill," you mutter, finally tucking your hair behind your ear, "I promise you, it was nothing more."
"To you," he motions, "I bet they feel so high and mighty now that they're bankers."
You step forward, "I don't think that. I used to help them with their homework, for Godric's sake. They'll never b-"
"Why didn't you just go to my office?" a line forms between his brows as he shakes his head, "you know you're more than welcome to do so."
You lower your head and shrug, "I don't want you to become mean to-"
"I told you, they know better to—"
"Would you stop cutting me off?" you blurt, face tightening as you look back at him, "had I waited in your office, I would have just stared into space, but a while ago, at least, I got to talk with someone I hadn't in a while."
Bill's shoulder's slump. His face hardens, "what did you even talk about?"
You stare at him for a moment. Irritation rises up your neck, pulling a scoff from your lips, "work. Life."
"Wallpaper?"
You pull your head back, "what?"
"Did you tell them about the wallpaper I was going to help you put up over the weekend?"
You watch his face go red from the cold and his anger. You shake your head in disbelief, "do... do you think I made it look like we aren't together?"
"Well, you might have forgotten that-"
"Everyone in Gringott's knows we're together Bill," you feel your throat tighten, "everyone except you I think."
You both stare at each other for a moment. Bill feels a shiver run down his spine as you brush your hair back, revealing how your eyes sparkled with tears. He huffs and mutters your name.
"Go home by yourself tomorrow," you dismiss, walking off with not a care if he followed or not.