Hogwarts Oneshots

Bill X OC part 3

The story that awaited me on the other side of the doors wasn't a story of romance or picket white fences or warm apple pies waiting on windowsills; it wasn't a story of coffee shop meet-cutes; or walks home in the rain through Time Square, somebody else's jacket wrapped around my shoulders. It was nothing like that. What awaited me on the other side of the glass doors at Heathrow wasn't the romantic comedy that Love Actually has now allowed us all to believe.

In reality Bill didn't run after me like Thomas Brodie-Sangster ran after Olivia Olson during Christmas 2003-to be honest, if Bill had run after me like an eight year old boy in a feel good but ultimately unrealistic movie, even if he had chosen to propose in a less uncomfortable, claustrophobic and extremely muggle environment, I'm not sure I would have said yes. I suppose you now know what's going to happen, although, at the same time, I suppose it's what a lot of you wishing for. So yes, this story however short a time it may have taken you to read, will ultimately have a happy ending in years to come Bill and I, our children, and one day our grandchildren can look back on and smile at.

In the time it took me to board the plane and take my seat, I probably should have been able to remove the ginger from my mind. However, as I sat with my notebook on my lap, trying to read my editor's notes, I realised something. While I'd been sat, scanning the same sentence for the past eternity, all I'd actually been thinking of had been Bill. The opportunities of writing in New York suddenly seemed to pale in comparison next to the prospect of potentially never seeing the ginger curse-breaker again. Never seeing Bill again pulled at my heart and made me ache for the relationship that never had been; a relationship that now never would be. 

If I had been living in a romantic comedy, I would have run off that plane into Bill's arms with a complete disregard for the logistics of the situation; alternatively, Bill would have charged onto the plane and prevented it from leaving the runway until he'd confessed his love. But we lived in the real world, nothing of the sort happened. I continued to stare at the pages as if, eventually, if I glared holes into them, they'd begin to look less foreign.

People bustled down the aisles of the aircraft as I thought about the moments I'd shared with Bill; the beautiful moments of friendship we'd had at Hogwarts, the moment he'd asked me to Hogsmeade, our 'professional' relationship over work. It had never seemed all that professional to stare at him when he wasn't looking, stealing glances at every opportunity. Another columnist, Andrew, had commented on Bill's own stolen gazes in my direction but I'd never caught him in the act. If I hadn't already realised, this was my moment of clarity. I was in love with William and I couldn't do anything to stop it.

Knowledge of my tears didn't reach me until the elderly man in the aisle leant across the empty seat between us to hand me a tissue. The seat should have been Neville's and not having him here made me feel even further from home. I smiled at the man in thanks, laughing a little to clear the tension but the laugh was breathless, almost sob like and did little to retract attention from me.

The man simply smiled and nodded at me with an air of kindness and human affection. He turned back to the front of the plane and I opted to gaze out of the window. The evening in London left very little to look at in the pitch black sky with the exception of dancing lights on the horizons. The lights brought little distraction from the sickness I was beginning to feel.

I found myself allowing my thoughts to wander back to what I'd said to Bill in the coffee shop. I don't know if I regretted walking away or simply wished I could reset my feelings and never think about him again.

My train of thought was briefly interrupted by the shuffling of bodies to my right. I didn't look over, not caring to see what was happening. A part of me also didn't want to show the population of the plane the tears that were continuing to stream down my cheeks as I felt the plane begin to move.

I felt someone move behind me, as if they were sitting in Neville's seat. A hand found mine and interlocked our fingers as takeoff began. I didn't look to see who it was, I knew who it was.

Our eyes didn't meet until he squeezed my hand tightly, causing me to look over at him. Somewhere between the terminal and my sobbing I'd forgotten how muggle this must all seem. His face held slight fear as we continued into the sky. There wasn't much I could do to comfort him, I didn't have the confidence to talk as tears were still falling over my cheeks.

So I didn't talk, I squeezed his hand back and sent him a small smile. Bill grinned at me and winked and I felt all my fears melt away. The still slightly mortified Weasley took my cheek in his hand and kissed me on a flight to New York.

We spent a week in New York, taking in the sights. Picnics in Central Park and questions from Bill about the function of muggle items- not all of which I could answer. All the days we'd spent apart, predominantly my own fault, seemed to fade away and no longer matter. Bill Weasley made me the happiest woman alive in New York.

The next year, when Bill and I were in the stands at Hogwarts and met Fleur - who at first made attempts to flirt with Bill - he placed his arm around my waist and pulled me to him. That day I gained another friend, rather than jealousy, a falsely rumoured sexuality or another place to run away from. That may have been simply because I knew exactly who Fleur would fall for, a certain A Pritchett of the Daily Prophet... But I'll let one of them tell you their story, another time.