The first time Bill Weasley met Helen Potter, he felt like a total pervert.

She had stumbled right into his arms, covered in ash, and all it took was one look into her eyes for him to fall in love.

She was fourteen.

Fourteen, and beautiful.

Away from the heat of the moment and enchantment in her eyes, Bill could easily say that he wasn't in love with the girl. After all, all he knew about her was second-hand from the twins and Ron. He didn't often get letters in Egypt from his younger siblings, but when he did, there was always a line or two mentioning Helen Potter.

On Monday, Helen dropped a dungbomb down the Grand Staircase after dinner, and it landed right on Filch! When we got the detention for it, all Helen had to say was "Maybe you shouldn't have set off that dungbomb in such an obvious and congested place." Forge has been thinking about taking her on as a sort of apprentice.

When Gryffindor played Slytherin, Helen snatched the Snitch right out from under Malfoy's nose! You should have seen the look on Snape's greasy face. He was furious!

Even Ginny, whom he knew wasn't as close to Helen, always had something to say about her.

Helen found a book and Ancient Curses, and when she dropped it on the table at dinner, it let off a cloud of dust. Ron looked as if someone had given Malfoy a prize, for all the food was covered. No one must have read it since you were here!

Only tidbits and tidings, but Bill felt as though she was someone he was meant to know. When she had looked up at him in that moment, captured in his arms, he had seen a warm heart and a sparkling sense of humor. Her eyes were layered with mystery and smiles, so heavily entwined that he couldn't tell if she smiled at mysteries or mysteries were brought by her Mona Lisa smiles.

When the twins bombarded her with "Did he eat it?" and "How big did his tongue get?" she responded with full-bodied laughter and many details. She must have helped them with product development before, because she seemed to answer their questions before they asked them.

And when Bill's mother barged in with that scolding tone Bill knew all too well, Helen had turned around with a bright smile and innocent eyes to ask how her summer had been and if there was a cuppa on the stove. Bill had never seen his mother drop a subject so fast. She took Helen into her arms and sat her at the table, all while Helen winked at the twins over her shoulder.

Bill had watched in a sort of fog as she hugged Charlie with an accompanying "Long time no see, eh?"

She had turned to him with a smile and all he could do was grin as she formally introduced herself. Helen had taken her tea like a queen, holding court amongst his siblings. She held conversation with each person individually, all while managing to make everyone feel included. When Percy ventured out of his hole to see what the ruckus was about, she sat him down with tea and a biscuit and asked all about Penelope. Bill hadn't known that little Perfectionist Percy had a girlfriend.

When her questions and conversation steered his way, Bill was a little bit shocked. A third year taking Runes and Arthimancy shouldn't have known about the topics in which she questioned him. She spoke knowledgeably about many wards and spells, and seemed to understand all his explanations, even when everyone else was lost. Ron had piped up and mentioned some basic wards Helen had created to protect her belongings from harm. Needless to say, Bill had been astounded. Actual ward creation was NEWT level.

Soon after, Mum had shooed her up the stairs to get settled, and Bill was able to think of things other than Helen Potter.

There he sat, in his dark room, with his head in his hands. Helen Potter no longer occupied every thought in his head, but she was far from the back of his mind.

This infatuation was going to end nastily, Bill just knew it.

Helen Potter prided herself on being quite rational. She knew what she wanted, and most of the time, she knew how to get it. She didn't let her emotions lord over her willy-nilly, and she never ever let fear take her down.

When Helen met Bill Weasley, all rational thought flew out the window and drowned itself in the Weasley pond. Bill Weasley was handsome, with a charismatic charm and the wits to match. The long red hair, fang earring, and dragonhide boots made Helen's heart twist and breathe catch in her throat. He was strong, as seen when he caught her after she shot out of the fireplace. He smelled like aftershave, the muggle kind, and all Helen wanted to do was swoon right into his arms again.

Helen was a healthy fourteen year old girl, and she was no stranger to infatuation and crushes. Oliver Wood had been perfectly crush worthy, and for almost a year, he held the singular power to make her blush. Cedric Diggory, a Hufflepuff two years up who had helped her with her books once, was quite attractive. There was also John. John, who lived three streets over and had taught her the delicate art of kissing.

Nevertheless, Helen had never had such a visceral reaction to a man. In one moment, he outshone every boy she had ever met. She wanted to know his dreams and aspirations, his morals, his goals. She wanted to understand him on a level she had never sought before. She wanted him to trust her with his secrets, and she wanted nothing more than to gift him with hers. It didn't seem enough if she only knew him. He had to know her just as well.

Helen wanted everything in Bill Weasley, and that totally freaked her out.

She sat at the table surrounded by a sea of red hair and freckles, tea warming her hands, and tried to get past her heart palpitations. Her magic swirled in a turbulent mass, ribbons reaching out to him and smarting when she reeled them back. How was she going to keep intelligent conversation? The last thing she wanted right now was for him to think her a fool, but the thought of him knowing her struggle horrified her magic into complacence. She took a long sip of tea, nibbled on a cookie, and attempted to distract herself from the man sitting across from her.

Bill Weasley had never been so terrified in his life.

He led a dangerous life, but Bill had never been one to worry for his own self. No, he was worried for her.

He had thought everything was going fine. Better than fine, really. He had the opportunity to talk with Helen multiple times, and was encouraged to know that she was the amazing person he had envisioned. In fact, she was better. He was able to learn about her first-hand, through his own eyes, and she was more than the stories. Not one of his siblings had ever mentioned her loyalty or her inner fire. Her determination. Her daring.

Now, after a rush of euphoric feelings and drugging Quidditch, everything had gone up in flames.

The Death Eaters had attacked, and Bill knew that if a single one of them found Helen, she would be dead.

Bill screamed her name until his throat hurt, running around like a headless chicken. His fear made him stronger, or perhaps it was his anger, for any masked figure he came across didn't stand back up once he was through with them.

After endless moments of fear and anger and frustration, Bill saw the Mark go up.

His heart stopped.

He ran as fast as his feet would carry him, through the trees and over logs until he could see them. All three of them were standing there, and he was so overcome by She's alive She's alive She's alive that he swooped her up into her arms and buried his face into her long hair before she even knew he was there. All he could feel was her, every heave of her breath and the warmth of her skin. She's alive.

She was alive, and she smelled like strawberries.

Rational Helen had come back into play. Even though she was running for her life, dragging her friends behind her, and didn't have her wand, Helen was calmer than she had been in a while. She knew the masked people were hurting others, she knew she would make a good target, and she knew she had to get away. The natural course of action was to run, so she did.

She ran until she couldn't see the light of spellfire and the smell of smoke had been left behind. Her bare feet leapt over vegetation and through leaves until they were numb, and Ron and Hermione were stumbling to a halt. They were heaving in air, and a little part of Helen that wasn't running on pure adrenaline felt a little bad. Maybe they could have gone a little slower…. No. Rational Helen, Survivor Helen, didn't have time for regrets. They had to find safety, and then she could bandage their wounds.

She ignored her own pounding heart and turned a circle, staring into the surrounding trees. They seemed to be in a clearing of sorts, and there was no evidence that danger had followed them. There was no crackle of twigs or crunch of dead leaves, and the only light was coming from the moon.

Helen figured that was as safe as they were going to get.

She turned to Hermione and Ron, both of whom still seemed to be recovering from their mad dash into the forest.

"I need a wand."

"Where's yours?" Ron panted, but he held his wand out anyway. She started with all the detection spells she knew, and followed with a bright Lumos Maxima. Now they could see, but it also meant people could see them. Helen wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

She handed Ron his wand, and motioned for them to sit under the giant ball of light floating above their heads. Helen sat so they made a triangle, each person facing outwards and leaning on each other. This gave them excellent visibility, and now she could use them as a pillow if no one came for them.

They sat like that, silent from exhaustion and wariness, until something caught Ron's eye. He pushed back against Helen and Hermione, silently motioning into the woods. The branches were moving, and leaves were crunching, but no one was there. They all stood, and Helen hoped that Ron and Hermione had their wands at the ready.

"Who's there?" She yelled into the darkness. The movement in the forest paused then started again. For a moment, there was nothing but thick silence until a voice unrecognizable to Helen shouted into the night.

"Morsemordre!"

Something large, green, and glittery erupted into the sky, taking on the grotesque form of a skull with a snake emerging from its gaping mouth. Helen had read about this symbol, and she could feel the blood drain out of her face. Helen prayed to Merlin that she wasn't going to die.

"What the-" gasped Ron, stumbling back as it rose higher, higher, until it glowed like a morbid constellation.

Helen could hear faint screams of horror, and she was sorely tempted to join with a scream of her own. She stared into the sky for another moment before turning to Ron and Hermione. They were just as panicked, and by mutual consent, they all turned to run without a word.

Before she could take a step, Helen was swept into strong arms and crushed against a very male chest. There were two seconds of Merlin he's strong how am I going to get away where the bloody hell is my wand before Helen registered the smell of muggle aftershave.

She melted into Bill's arms. Helen fisted her hands into the back of his t-shirt and buried her face in his neck. The adrenaline drained out of her body, along with the fear and panic.

Bill was here. Everything was alright.

Bill started to lift his head, loosened his arms around her, before he dropped to the ground and rolled right on top of her.

"Get down!"

Spellfire exploded into the clearing from all sides. Helen's ball of light extinguished with a pop, and all she could see was Bill's shadowed face in the light of all the spells. His blue eyes burned into her like an inferno, and it took all of Helen's focus to keep her magic inside the confines of her body. They might be under attack, but all she wanted to do was reach up and kiss him.

"STOP!" Helen was forcefully pulled back into reality by the sound of Mr. Weasley's voice. "Stop! That's my son!"

The shouting and spellfire ceased, and Bill rolled onto his back next to her. Helen really wished he hadn't.

Bill looked up from his place on the ground, and saw his dad striding towards them, looking absolutely terrified.

"Bill- what? Ron? Helen?" His voice was shaking in a way Bill had never heard. "Hermione? Are you alright?"

"Out of the way, Arthur," said a cold, terse voice. Bill looked for the owner of such a rude voice, and his eyes landed on Mr. Crouch. Crouch and the other Ministry officials were closing in, approaching from all sides like a pack of hyenas.

Bill pushed himself to his feet, and turned to Helen. She was still lying on the ground, her black hair spread around her like a dark halo. She didn't seem to be injured, and Bill's eyes were drawn to the creamy expanse of skin that her sleep shorts revealed. Her shoulders and arms were similarly covered, only marred by the straps of her tank top. Bill held his hand out to her, and pulled her to her feet. She took a few ginger steps forward, wincing with each one, until she was at his side. Bill couldn't contain the urge to reach for her, and he pulled her in, wrapping his arm around her until they fit together like a jigsaw.

"Which of you did it?" Crouch barked, his sharp, beady eyes darting to and fro between them. "Which of you conjured the Dark Mark?"

A wave of anger enveloped Bill. How could he just barge in with spells and accusations flying? Bill was sure there was some sort of protocol with crime, and Bill was positive that accusing the first people you see wasn't regulation. Before Bill could even open his mouth, Helen spoke up.

"Are you stupid?" She sounded as if she was exhausted of the entire situation, and unfortunately for the Ministry, they were standing in between her and her bed. The way she heavily leaned on him supported Bill's theory. "Why the bloody hell would we set off the Dark Mark? If you haven't noticed, I'm Helen Potter. I could have you all arrested for undue attack upon minors."

Crouch was practically frothing at the mouth, shaking in his fury. He stepped forward, but whether he was going to respond or slap Helen, Bill wasn't sure. A woman standing slightly behind him in a dressing gown grabbed Crouch's arm in a tight grip. Bill could see where her knuckles went white.

"Barty," the witch said, "she's right. If Skeeter gets ahold of this…. Besides, they're only kids."

"Where did the mark come from?" Dad said quickly. Bill turned a bit so he could see Helen's face and she gestured to the trees.

"Over there," said Hermione weakly, pointing in the same direction Helen had indicated. "There was someone snapping twigs and stepping on the dead leaves, but there was no one there. Helen yelled at them, and then they shouted—the incantation—"

"Oh, stood over there, did they?" jeered Crouch, his popping eyes geared directly at Hermione, "Said an incantation, did they? You seem very informed on how that mark is summoned, missy."

"Oh, please. Anyone could tell you it's a conjuration, and anyone who's passed transfiguration knows that a conjuration involves an incantation and minimal wand movement. You must not have passed if a fourteen year old has to explain it for you."

None of the other Ministry members seemed to think it was them who had sent up the Mark, and they had taken their wands back out when Hermione had finished her explanation. Some of them had looked towards Helen as she spoke, but most were scouring the trees in the direction Hermione had pointed.

"We're too late," said the woman in the dressing gown. Bill thought she may have been Madame Bones, head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, but the darkness and dressing gown made it hard to tell. "They'll have Disapparated by now."

"I don't think so." It was Amos Diggory, who lived a few hills over from the Burrow. "Our stunners went right through those trees…. There's a good chance we got them…."

With all the stresses of the previous night, Bill was glad Quidditch was there to distract everyone. His brothers trailed into the clearing, brooms over shoulders, followed by the slight form of Helen Potter. She was wearing Muggle shorts and a t-shirt, with her hair thrown up in a messy knot on the top of her head. Helen had dark shadows under her eyes, but Bill had never seen her smile any brighter.

Before they even reached the field were Bill was sitting, Helen swung onto her broom and shot into the air. She did a series of corkscrews and dives that left Charlie and Bill gaping. Her laughter reached down to wear Bill sat and seemed to envelop him in her happiness.

"She's good-"

"Ain't she?"

"You should Ollie's face-"

"For every first practice."

"He would watch 'er go-"

"As if he forgot how she flew."

In his distracted state, Bill had a hard time following the twins for a moment, but he got the gist of it. Helen had always been that good, that graceful and ethereal in the air.

He really wanted her on his team.

"Rita Skeeter never makes anyone look good. Remember, she interviewed all the Gringotts' Charm Breakers once, and called me 'a long-haired pillock'?"

Helen couldn't help her giggles. She happened to love his long hair, but Mrs. Weasley's attempts to cut it were very amusing.

"Mrs. Weasley, would you mind if I paid a quick trip to Diagon Alley? I hadn't noticed until I started packing, but I some of my Quidditch gear has gotten small."

Helen hadn't expected the outcry her request would foster. Mrs. Weasley started fussing over her, speaking about how she couldn't possibly go with all this Death Eater business, while most everyone else started mentioning how much they wanted to go, too.

A shrill whistle broke through the babble and quieted everyone. Helen sent Bill a thankful smile, and received a wink in return. He stood from his chair and stretched.

"Mum, I'll go with Helen. I have some business at Gringotts anyway. It won't take long, we'll be back in a jiffy." Helen could tell Mrs. Weasley wasn't sold on the idea, but Bill didn't seem to be giving her a choice. "Helen, why don't you go up and grab your money bag. If we head off right now, we should be home before supper."

Helen didn't hesitate to run up the stairs, grab her satchel, and tumble right into the waiting green fire.

As she stumbled into the Leaky Cauldron, Helen couldn't help but laugh, even if some patrons were staring at her quite oddly. Bill stepped out of the fireplace, and with two waves of his wand they were free of soot. She headed towards the entrance to Diagon Alley, but a hand on her shoulder swung her around to face Bill.

"You're Quidditch gear fits fine, doesn't it?"

"You don't have business at Gringotts, do you?"

"Touché."

Helen weaved through the frantic crowds and slipped into the door at Madame Malkin's. The woman at the counter look harried, but Helen didn't have time to feel bad. She was supposed to be picking up gear, not getting fitted for new dress robes.

"I would like to return these dress robes and get specially fitted for a custom pair." Helen pulled the box with the pretty, green dress robes Mrs. Weasley had chosen out of her satchel and set it on the counter. She could practically feel Bill's eyebrows raise questioningly at her back. "They are a good length, but they don't fit at all at the top."

Helen's cheeks burned at the statement, but she resolutely looked at the woman. She heard Bill chuckle at her back, and she could feel her blush spread down her neck. She silently cursed her pale skin as she was led into the back of the shop and onto a stool. Madame Malkin herself came with bolts of beautiful emerald fabric and immediately started taking measurements and draping fabric.

Bill had leaned against the mirror in front of her. He looked at her with eyes sparkling with the mischief ever present in the twins' eyes. Helen braced herself for the worst.

"How far up did the robes button?"

"They could have been too loose."

He snorted and raised a single brow.

Helen groaned. That was the question she really didn't want to answer, but she knew that if she didn't, he might bring it up when the twins were earshot. She would never live this down.

She gestured to right underneath her bust, and Bill doubled over with laughter. His happiness coiled around her heart and squeezed. He was so handsome, and it was only emphasized when he smiled.

Before long, Madame Malkin had constructed the bones of the dress and shooed Bill out of the room so she could pin it to Helen's frame. Standing there in her underthings, Helen had a brief moment of doubt. She knew she was pretty. The twins joked that she could have used the Basilisk to fend off lustful suitors. Her face was elegant with high cheekbones and pouty lips. Her eyes and hair were startling in their color, and her figure had been the talk of her dorm.

Still. Could someone like Bill ever be attracted to someone like her? Helen wasn't sure.

While Helen was lost in thought, Madame Malkin had finished the dress, magically sewing it as Helen wore it.

The dress clung to Helen's skin until mid-calf, where it flared into a small train. It was a simple cut, with tight sleeves and a low rounded neckline, and the only ornamentations were the pearl buttons that ran all the way down her back.

Helen had never felt so beautiful.

Sometime while Helen stared at herself in the mirror, Bill had snuck in the room.

Ever since Helen had fallen into his arms, Bill had resolutely ignored the womanly curves she possessed. When Bill had been in Hogwarts, the girls hadn't filled out like Helen was, so it was easy to pass them over, especially with the concealing clothes she wore. He had been able to delude himself, but the sight in front of him wouldn't allow him to do that any longer.

The silk left nothing to the imagination. Every shape, every curve, was put on display for Bill to recognize. He wanted nothing more than for the opportunity to let his hands take the place of silk, caressing her skin.

Helen was a goddess, and Bill her most devout worshipper.

Standing there, in that dress, with her secretive eyes, Helen didn't look like a teenager. Hell, most of the time she didn't even act like a teenager. Bill's unconscious aversion to anything deeper than friendship with this woman left him with a gasp of breath.

Something inside of him had broken, or been set free, Bill wasn't sure which, and the powerful force inside him reached for Helen. It stretched across the space between them and wrapped itself around her like a lover. Intimately. Deeply.

Helen looked from the mirror, right into Bill's eyes, and Bill was lost.

Helen lie in bed, the night of her Diagon Alley escapade, and shivered. She could still feel the ghost of Bill's magic as it enveloped her in warmth.

Helen had never entertained the thought that her entrancement might ever be mutual. Not until Bill had wrapped her in possessiveness, love, lust, and pride.

She had positively floated back to the Burrow, and it was only his arm, strong under her grasping hand, that kept her from tumbling to the ground. His magic had been so hypnotic, so addicting, and Helen rode the high until it disappeared with his magic as he fell asleep.

Safety wasn't a feeling that visited Helen often, but she had felt as though Bill would move mountains and carve rivers for her. She had never felt anything like it.

She fell asleep with a smile on her face.