Everything Is Eclipsed by the Shape of Destiny

The dawn’s early light trickled in through the tears on the tattered drapes that hung carelessly on the bronze curtain rods, illuminating the two nude figures whom laid in bed with their limbs tangled together, making it nearly impossible to tell where one being began and the other ended.

Their bodies glistened with salty sweat that had been induced by the arduous activity they had repeatedly engaged in throughout the night, which only ended when their bodies refused to cooperate any longer, but even then the pair wanted to continue for it was their last night together and they wanted to savor every second available because once morning came they knew that their world – that had been constructed in secret – would come crashing down all around them.

No longer would they lose themselves in fits of passion.

No longer would they steal kisses when others turned their backs.

No longer would they find excuses to meet.

It would all end the moment that he walked down the aisle.

It would all end the moment that William Weasley, her imprint, said I do.

The mere thought of his marrying another, made her break into a cold sweat. He was supposed to love her, he was supposed to want to spend the rest of his life with her, but he didn’t; he wanted to spend his life with Fleur.

He wanted to make the inhumanely beautiful Fleur happy and although that pained Emerson Marie Figueroa more than the Cruciatus curse ever could, she accepted it and she accepted it because when a person truly loves another, they want them to be happy, even if it’s not with them, even if watching them with another kills them.

Emerson discreetly wiped away the tears that had escaped her eyes. She didn’t want him to know that his marrying was causing her so much pain because if he knew that their casual sex had blossomed into love in her heart, he would sever all ties with her.

As soon as her tears had been wiped away she snuggled closer into the warm body beside her, relishing in the feel of his bare flesh on hers. Carefully, she tilted her head upwards, smiling softly when her eyes landed on his freckled face, his lips half opened as snores emanated from them.

In her eyes there was no being more perfect than he.

Every freckle, every wrinkle, every strand of gingery hair was perfect. Perhaps it was the magic of imprinting that transformed the ginger into a heavenly being in her eyes, but she loved him dearly.

About an hour later, Bill began to stir, his right arm tightening around Emerson’s waist as his left busied itself by rubbing the sleep from his eyes. It was what he always did whenever he awoke, it was routine.

“You’re always so damn warm,” mumbled Bill groggily, snuggling closer against her. “There’s no need for blankets with you.”

“Don’t get to comfortable, you have to leave soon.” Emerson reminded him, her Southern California accent shining through.

“But I’m tired.” Bill stifled a yawn. “I was up all night and need to rest.”

“Well if resting was so important then you shouldn’t have been up all night.”

“I tried going to sleep but this sex crazed fiend didn’t let me.” Bill smirked, tenderly rubbing Emerson’s heavily tattooed right arm that rested atop his chest. “Every time I stopped she forced me to keep going.”

“Sounds dreadful,” smirked Emerson.

“It was. I’m afraid that my dear friend might not work for the wedding night.”

Wedding night, those two words made her sick to her stomach because on that fateful night he was going to have sex with Fleur, his virgin bride. Just thinking about him hovering over Fleur made Emerson want to gag but she kept perfect control over her emotions.

“Well it’s not like it’s going to matter,” answered Emerson with a forced grin on her face.

“Of course it is!” exclaimed Bill. “It’s going to be the night my wife loses her virginity.”

“And that’s why it’s not going to matter.”

Bill shot her a questioning look.

“She’s a virgin meaning that she has no experience whatsoever so even if you give an awful dick – which you do – it’s not going to matter because it’ll still be the best dick that she’s ever had.”

“I don’t give an awful dick,” argued Bill.

“Yes, you do,” Emerson caressed his chest. “It’s the worst dick I’ve ever had.”

“If it’s so bad then why’ve you been shagging me for three years?”

“Because I’m much too lazy to go find someone else,” retorted Emerson.

Bill rolled so that his body was atop hers. “That’s not true and you know it.”

“Oh, believe me, it is.” Emerson stared into his eyes a sincere smile tugging at her lips.

“Your moans say otherwise,” his face was mere inches from hers.

“Moans can be faked quite easily.” Emerson patted his cheek. “Now get off. You have to get going. I’m sure that everyone’s already looking for you.”

“But I’m so warm,” Bill collapsed atop her, resting his face on the crook of her neck.

As Bill lay atop her, she was tempted to tell him that marrying Fleur wasn’t right, that he was her imprint and was destined to be with her, she knew that uttering those words would have some effect on him, perhaps they would be enough to make him cancel the wedding but she couldn’t do it, she didn’t want him to be with her because she told him that he had to, she wanted him to do it on his own.

“Get off you gingery beast!” laughed Emerson.

“Fine,” Bill huffed as he rolled off of her and sat up on his side of the bed. “Bloody hell!” he exclaimed when he saw the time. “It’s late! It’s bloody late! I need a bath! I need a shave! I need clothes that don’t smell like you!”

Emerson sluggishly got off of bed, picking up an oversized Led Zeppelin shirt that lay on the ground. Quickly, she threw the shirt on and grabbed a fresh pair of underwear from her drawer so that she could comfortably move around and get things ready.

“There are fresh razors in the medicine cabinet. There’s also a fresh towel hanging behind the door, so go shower and I’ll get your clothes ready, but hurry up!”

In twenty minutes Bill shaved, showered, and got dressed.

After he was ready he began looking for Emerson throughout her apartment, finding her in the closet where she was rummaging through her clothes in search of the black suit that she had gotten specifically for his wedding.

“What are you looking for?” he asked.

“My suit,” answered Emerson, not bothering to look back. “I could’ve sworn that I picked it up from the dry cleaners and put it in here but I just can’t find it.”

“Well you better find it. I can’t get married without my groomsman there.”

“I’ve told you like a million times that I’m not going to be your groomsman, it’s inappropriate,” hissed Emerson, throwing him a disparaging look.

“How’s it inappropriate? You’re my best mate therefore you should be my groomsman. I would’ve made you my best man but that place has always been reserved for Charlie.”

“I’m the best mate that you’ve been having an affair with. The fact that I’m even going to the wedding is bad enough, but to make me a part of the wedding party would just be heartless.”

“It would be heartless if she knew, but she doesn’t and she’s never going to know because that’s in the past and it’s not going to have anything to do with our marriage,” argued Bill.

“The fact that she doesn’t know doesn’t make it any better.”

“Of course it does!” Bill leant against the doorframe.

“No, it doesn’t,” Emerson snatched the black suit off the rack. “AH! Found it.”

“Brilliant!” Bill clapped his hands together. “Now you won’t have an excuse to not go and I expect you to be there, if you’re not there a half hour before the ceremony then I’m going to find myself forced to apparate here and drag your arse there which reminds me, can you please make sure that Everett’s on time, he’s always late and I can’t have one of my groomsmen missing when the wedding starts.”

“Why do I have to be in charge of Everett?” Emerson pushed passed Bill, walking over to her folded bed where she rested her suit.

“Because he’s your twin,” answered Bill. “And you know better than anyone how he is.”

“I know. I’ll make sure he’s there, now get going.” Emerson ushered him towards the door since she charmed her apartment to only allow herself to apparate within it.

“Wait, I have to give you something,” Bill opened his enchanted wallet, pulling out a small black box. “The other day when we were at the store you said that you really liked this so I thought I’d get for you so you can always have a bit of your favorite ginger around.”

Emerson opened the box, gasping when she saw the silver locket that she had admired all those months ago. Her eyes watered with tears, he thought they were of joy, but they were of sadness. He was being sweet to her and she couldn’t stand it.

“Can I put it on?” he asked.

“Yes . . .”

Bill took the locket from her hands, carefully placing it across her neck, his slender pale fingers brushing against her lightly tan flesh that had gained its color by being exposed to the Egyptian sun.

Shortly after, he left, placing a quick peck on her cheek before he ran out the front door, rambling about how he was late and that his mother was going to have his head for being tardy on such an important day.

Emerson stood in the doorway until his figure vanished from sight.

And as soon as it down she slammed the door shut, the tears began falling.

The pain felt like a knife going into her heart; it was hell and the worst part was that the day was just beginning . . . she still had to make it through the wedding . . . she still had to make it through the wedding night.