An Unexpected Allergy (M, HP series, Bill Weasley)

[Dusty15]

Written for a request on Tumblr  You don’t have to have read the Harry Potter series or have seen the films to follow this. The only background you’ll need is that Bill was injured by a werewolf NOT on the full moon, so he’s not a true lycanthrope but the injuries did cause some side effects.

Also…you’ll notice I didn’t write Fleur with an accent. Mostly because I find that really annoying. Just FYI.

Enjoy!

–

It’s been a bit of trial and error figuring out the quirks surrounding Bill’s injury and resulting “lycanthropic-induced symptomatic response” (as it has been dubbed by the healers). There’s, of course, the drop in iron count prior to the full moon and the associated craving for red meat. When the moon is particularly close or strong, he’ll feel a general dull ache and occasional flu-like symptoms. When the perigee moon hits and the lunar orb is closest to earth, he spends the majority of the three days around the full moon lounging in bed or in the bath, plagued by sore muscles and a low-grade fever.

All in all, it’s a little bit of a inconvenience but nothing compared to actual lycanthropy. There is, however, one unexpected symptom that proves to be more than a little annoying.

It comes to light on the fourth or fifth moon cycle after his injury at the Battle of the Astronomy Tower. He’d finally settled back into Shell Cottage with his new bride, Fleur. The war was still on, but at the seaside in the shelter of their little home, things felt peaceful.

On Saturday, the full moon was set to rise that evening and Bill got out of bed in the morning feeling a little stiff and restless. After a cup of tea and breakfast, he kissed Fleur on the top of the head as he stood and stretched his arms widely.

“I need a bit of activity,” he declared. “I think I’ll tackled that back garden if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind at all,” Fleur replied, leaning up to return his kiss with one on the lips. “I’ll shower and then come help you.”

 

He trudged out the back door and down the path to the back stone wall that divided the main part of the yard from a rambling and wild-looking garden. The thick, hot air was hazy and filled with the sound of buzzing cicadas. Bill pushed his way through a patch of lavender and over to a stubborn-looking bush of small white flowers that was certainly a weed.

Tending a garden as a wizard meant there was less digging and pulling at weeds, but a certain level of concentration had to be maintained to prevent severing the wrong plants at the root. He’d destroyed half of the family pumpkin patch as a boy before Bill had learned that lesson.

Wand in hand, he bent over and inspected the plant’s base, pushing his long red hair away from his face. The area around the bush looked clear of other plants and so he flicked his wand with expert precision and yanked the offending weed out of the soil. It popped out with a satisfying snap and sailed upwards and over the fence, training a cloud of pollen into the already yellow-dusted air.

Bill wrinkled his nose absentmindedly and gave it a light nudge. He’d never suffered terribly from hayfever, but on occasion the yellow clouds gave him a mild itch. Today, his eyes were already starting to feel gritty and irritated. He pressed a palm against one and then the other, rubbing vigorously.

His eyelids swelled in response, sending tears brimming to the edges. He sniffled and rubbed again, wiping away the moisture and blinking to regain his sight. With his wand, he severed another plant and sent it on its way to the reject pile.

A tickled blossomed deep in his nose, instantly growing in urgency until he was unable to concentrate enough to find more weeds. Stooped over in the garden, he pawed at his nostrils, trying to stop the itch but to no avail.

Wriggling his nose, he trudged onward, fighting the irritation with each sniffle and nose twitch. There was a patch of yellow dandelions poking up among the more desirable poppy flowers at the far end of the garden. Bill extended his wand arm, pointing it towards the weeds as if he were about to break a curse in one of the Egyptian tombs where he’d once worked.

His arm wavered, reacting to a more insistent pest. The tickle in his nose, which once was manageable, was quickly peaking. He let his arm drop and took a gasping breath, chest expanding widely as he built up to a wrenching sneeze.

Hurrhhh-TSGHHTT!

He was thrown forward, stumbling, as the explosion burst out of him. Immediately, his head reared back and he sneezed openly towards the soil once more.

Huhrrrr-TSGHHHH!

He felt his nose start to stream and he pressed his wrist to his nose, sniffling thickly. What the hell? He’d never had this kind of reaction before. Perhaps there was some new foreign flower to which his nose took a particular dislike.

He was distracted by wiping his nose with his shirtsleeve when Fleur’s voice called out from the back steps.

“I made lemonade! Do you want yours out there?”

He swallowed thickly and tried to call back, but his voice barely registered as a thick croak. Instead, he raised one hand and waved, giving a thumbs up.

And then immediately was caught up in another sneeze.

Urh-TSGHHT!

He bent forward, catching it in cupped hands.

From his nostrils dripped a thin, rheumy liquid and from the corners of his eyes, the same slow leak was creeping down his cheeks

Hurhh-TSGCHHH!

Each sneeze tore out of him more violently and throatily than the last, ripping at his vocal chords.

Fleur emerged from the thick vegetation and stopped in her tracks at the sight of him, setting down the two glasses of lemonade in her hands on the path.

“Bill! What’s wrong?”

He shook his head, as if irritated by flies, and pitched forward in a motion that was quickly becoming uncomfortably familiar.

Hurh-TshGHTT!

“Bless you!” she exclaimed.

“I think I’m—ahh” Bill stammered. “allerg—hehhh—ehh-TSCHOO!”

Fleur dug into the pocket of her sundress and drew out a small laced-trimmed handkerchief. Bill took it without hesitation.

Eh-TSGHHTT!

He took a ragged breath, alarmed at the slight wheeze in his lungs. With the small handkerchief pinched over his nose, he stifled two more itchy outbursts.

TSH-NXT! NH-GXTT!

Fleur was at his side, one hand gently pressed to his lower back with the other pushed stray red strands of hair from his face.

“Love,” she said. “Sit. You look like you might knock yourself over.”

She guided him to a nearby stone bench and got him settled before she went to get his lemonade.

Hurhhh-TSGHTT! Urrhhh-TSCGHHT!

Before he could say anything, he was bent over, arms resting on his knees and hands cupped over his face, lost in the fit once more. The scars on his face from Greyback’s attack were beginning to ache from the constant strain of being stretched and contorted with each itchy sneeze. Where they skimmed up and to the edge of his nose, his skin had turned angry red and chapped.

“Here,” Fleur said, sitting at his side and offered a glass of lemonade. “Try to drink.”

He snorted loudly, trying to clear his head enough to drink. He took a sip, eager for the sweet juice to distract from his irritated throat.

With only half the glass finished, he suddenly thrust the cup back towards Fleur.

“S…ssheh–sorry, I… hh… I need to… huhh… to s-sneeh…!”

He gasped with a desperate-sounding inhale as Fleur took the cup back just in time to allow him to pitch forward, eyes fluttering shut and hand raising to shield his face with Fleur’s now-damp handkerchief.

Nhh-TSCHOO!Hehhh-ehhTSGHHHT!

“I think you should probably come inside,” said Fleur.

“Hhh….hhold on,” he stammered. “I’m not f—fehh—finished—heh-TSGCHH!!”

Fleur smoothed more tendrils of hair from his face, watching with with growing concern.

“I didn’t realise you had such bad allergies, love?”

“I didn’t either,” Bill confessed, pressing his palms to his eyes, which were now so swollen and bloodshot that he could barely see.

“Come. Inside.”

Fleur kept a hand gently against his back and guided him back towards the cottage. Bill stumbled along through the dense garden, stopping only for the occasional sneeze.

When they were safely back inside Shell Cottage, Fleur sat him down on the sofa and went for a washrag from the bathroom. She returned with it and a small vial of potion.

“No allergy potions. I’ll send an owl for some in a moment. Until then, this should help with your eyes. Lean back.”

Bill reclined his head against the back of the sofa and allowed a few droplets of the potion to be squeezed into the corners of his eyes before Fleur spread the washcloth over them.

“Just try to relax,” she said. “I’m going to send Isadore for the potions.”

Isadore was their owl who was currently asleep in the fig tree at the side of the house. Bill made a sound of agreement, trying to stay still despite a still-present tickle deep in his sinuses. He pinched at the bridge of nose and gave his nostrils a small rub upwards to relieve some congestion. It did nothing to quell the itch, however. He felt his chest expand rapidly as his breath sucked inward in preparation for what he estimated would be his fiftieth sneeze that morning.

Hrhhhh-CHHTTT!

The sneezes were beginning to sound more and more exhausted as his respiratory system continued to swell and he stopped fighting the outbursts.

He reached out blindly, searching the couch with his arms for a pillow. When he finally found one, he raised it to his face and muffled the rest of the fit into the small, soft square.

Hrhh-TSCMPHH! Mhh-CHMPHHH! Tehh-CHUMFFF!

Fleur returned and sighed at the sight of him.

“Oh, love, what are you doing? Here.”

She replaced the pillow with a fresh handkerchief.

“The potion should come soon.”

She sat at his side, pulling him against her. He slumped in exhaustion, defeated by the allergic assault. Sniffling miserably, he let his head tuck into her shoulder and she stroked his hair soothingly.

“Have you ever reacted like this before?” she asked, gently untangling strands of his hair from the hoop-and-fang earring he wore.

“No,” he replied, handkerchief held to his nose. He blew noisily, trying to clear his head, but it was in vain.

“Perhaps it’s the moon?” she suggested. “You’re somehow more sensitive to the pollen?”

“Seems like an odd reaction, but I’ll write Lupin when I’m able and see if he’s ever had anything like this happen.”

“If that’s not it, I think we’ll have to hire a gardener to help out.”

Bill made a sound of protest and sniffled.

“What? You want to be a mess like this all summer? Suit yourself.”

Normally, Bill would have responded with something witty but instead, he sat with his hand hovering over his nose, his face contorted in a look of pre-sneeze agony. He pushed the washcloth off his eyes.

“Bless you,” said Fleur preemptively.

“Don’t,” Bill hissed through gritted teeth. “It won’t come.”

He sat up, wavering on the brink of a fit, fanning his hand slowly as the tickle built and built but would not be relieved.

“You’re too swollen up,” Fleur said.

“Godddd,” Bill moaned breathlessly. “This is torture.”

He pressed his palm to his glistening nostrils, forcing them upwards and snorting miserably.

“It tickles,” he groaned.

“Just breathe,” Fleur coached.

“Easy for you to say,” Bill grumbled. “You face doesn’t look like it got mauled by a bunch of stinging nettles.”

He coughed in desperation, respiratory system on overload.

Finally, after what felt like eternity, he gasped with a wheezy and urgent sound before the sneezes began to tumble out.

They began rapid-fire and weak, his swollen nose’s futile attempt to rid itself of irritants.

Nh-TCHHT! Heh-TSCHH! TCHHHT! Nhh-Hehh-TSCHXXT!

Fleur could do little to help beyond rub his shaking shoulders and encourage him to breathe. Bill took a ragged breath and launched into a lengthier fit.

TcCHHT! NghXHTT! Ehh-TSCHT! NghTSCHHT!TsxCHT! CSCHHT!

“Oh my god,” he moaned, teetering on the brink of more sneezing. Fleur touched her wand to his handkerchief, performing a cleaning spell on it. Bill blew his nose with a series of productive honks and returned to the grips of the fit.

Hhrr-TSCHOO!

The sneezes began to slow. Between each, Bill sat, breath hitching and shivering with anticipation, totally wrapped up in the cycle of build up and outburst.

Ehhhh—hehh-hhSCHTTTT! Heh-TSCHXHHT!

He closed his eyes and pinched at the top of his nose, fighting over a growing dizzy feeling.

“Shh,” Fleur soothed.

Hrhhh…huhh-TSCHGHXXHHTTT!!

The final sneeze tore out with such intensity that Bill could feel his throat ache from the force. He slumped back against the sofa, utterly and totally spent.

There was a rapping on the window. Isadore was perched on the sill with a package from the apothecary in her beak.

“Thank Merlin,” Bill said, relieved. “How do Muggles possibly survive this without potions?”

“I’m not entirely certain,” Fleur replied, retrieving the package and tearing open the brown wrapping. “Here. It says to take two vials.”

Bill dosed out the potion and swallowed the two droppers full of shimmering blue liquid. Almost instantly, the colour faded from his eyes and nose and the perpetually-congested swollen look of his face returned to normal. He took a deep, long breathe and smiled.

“I’m glad it’s the weekend,” he declared. “I’m exhausted from that. Back to bed for me.”

Fleur kissed him and smiled back.

“I might just join you. We’ve had enough excitement for the morning.”

[Wilde]

Damn, I never thought I'd like the h/c aspect, nor the male one for that matter, but I absolutely love this. You write both of them very adorably, and that fit is just precious. 

[Leafeon78]

This is really good liked reading it a lot thanks for sharing.

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

Aww... Poor Bill. This is a lovely story. I really enjoy the premise. 

16 hours ago, Dusty15 said:

“Oh my god,” he moaned, teetering on the brink of more sneezing. Fleur touched her wand to his handkerchief, performing a cleaning spell on it. Bill blew his nose with a series of productive honks and returned to the grips of the fit.

 

But man, how convenient is that! Your wife with a cleaning spell at the ready.  

[Dusty15]

1 hour ago, Sanguine Cheerful Worrier said:

But man, how convenient is that! Your wife with a cleaning spell at the ready.  

Right? I think I'd like having magic but I also think I'd be REALLY LAZY and probably become Slughorn and basically melt into my chair. Everything is just too easy (Except for that whole evil dark wizards thing)

[camillapapen]

I feel like we don't get so much Harry Potter fic around these parts nowadays, and I am always delighted when something pops up, particularly if it's something as sweet and well-written as this! I really enjoyed it, thank you for writing

[RiversD]

AHHH! THANK YOU! Good gosh I've been needing some Bill in my life (of the Weasley description- I have far too many of the more mundane kind...)

This is good stuff, Dusty.

I enjoyed the descriptions of all the little ways Bill's life has altered since the attack- both in an abstracted, worldbuilding way, and in that good ol' fluttery-chested way.

20 hours ago, Dusty15 said:

Bill pushed his way through a patch of lavender and over to a stubborn-looking bush of small white flowers that was certainly a weed.

Inner me: *giggling* ohoho, I wonder what could possibly be going on here? (I am immature but I don't care. Anticipation is half the fun)

20 hours ago, Dusty15 said:

Bill wrinkled his nose absentmindedly and gave it a light nudge.

noice.

I liked the frequent mentions of those little bits and pieces that show that Bill and Fleur grew up in the wizarding world- keeping me aware of the world they're in, but also aware that this is normality for them, so that:

20 hours ago, Dusty15 said:

“How do Muggles possibly survive this without potions?”

Is a genuine question worth asking for them.

 

Bill not being able to answer Fleur with words was niiiiiiiice.

20 hours ago, Dusty15 said:

Each sneeze tore out of him more violently and throatily than the last, ripping at his vocal chords

Goood stuff. I very much enjoyed the sheer intensity of this attack- one that sneezing kicks off, it just doesn't give him a break, and I am loving it. (It also makes perfect sense inside my head for a lycanthropically induced reaction, since I imagine those could be a bit more... insistent? than regular allergies, given the strength of the negative effect such things are rumoured to have on werewolves)

 

20 hours ago, Dusty15 said:

Fleur was at his side, one hand gently pressed to his lower back with the other pushed stray red strands of hair from his face.

“Love,” she said. “Sit. You look like you might knock yourself over.”

nnnnnn... Love this image.

20 hours ago, Dusty15 said:

lost in the fit once more.

Quick moment of appreciation for this phrase...

20 hours ago, Dusty15 said:

he suddenly thrust the cup back towards Fleur.

“S…ssheh–sorry, I… hh… I need to… huhh… to s-sneeh…!”

Always fun. Always.

 

20 hours ago, Dusty15 said:

He reached out blindly, searching the couch with his arms for a pillow. When he finally found one, he raised it to his face and muffled the rest of the fit into the small, soft square.

+

20 hours ago, Dusty15 said:

“Oh, love, what are you doing?

= .

 

20 hours ago, Dusty15 said:

“Have you ever reacted like this before?” she asked, gently untangling strands of his hair from the hoop-and-fang earring he wore.

The whole surrounding image of the two of them made me "awwwwhhh".

 

Excellent stuck sneeze, much enjoyed (poor Bill, though...)

 

20 hours ago, Dusty15 said:

He closed his eyes and pinched at the top of his nose, fighting over a growing dizzy feeling.

(With feeling): NICE.

 

20 hours ago, Dusty15 said:

“I’m glad it’s the weekend,” he declared. “I’m exhausted from that.

Aww. I'm glad he doesn't have to suffer extensively, anyway. How much do I have to pay to get potions like that for the Muggle world? Because I don't even have proper allergies, and I would still pay A Lot.

Again, thank you so much for this! You're wonderful.

[Dusty15]

@RiversD Thank you for the amazingly detailed play by play!  Glad that you enjoyed it!

And @camillapapen always happy to bring some HP to the boards! I agree, we need more  

[Bird]

The timing for this fiction is absolutely perfect... I must confess, blinded by shame, that I somehow made it though adolescence without... reading the Harry Potter series. There, it's out, I said it! Then again, I dipped into the first book, which I borrowed from my best friend, and let's say I instantly got carried away and bought the whole series in a second-hand shop. I have now totally immersed into the books and force myself to read slowly to prevent the experience from ending too soon.
But back to your fiction:  I want to thank you for sharing it; I love how you display the relationship between Bill and Fleur, you succeeded to draw a refined, tender and serene picture of their interaction that touched and overwhelmed me. 

[queenie]

Good gracious, what a gift!