Tawny brown eyes worried and golden red curls tied up in a messy top-knot, Ginny Weaseley, looked despairingly into the electric blue of each of her brother's.
"I thought Bill was supposed to be the sensible one?" mumbled Fred, his usual grin slipping, as was his humor.
"Sensible? He's trying to break his engagement to a veela, need I say more?" his twin retorted, with an unpleasant snort.
"Quarter veela." Hermione corrected automatically.
Five pairs of male eyes turned to her as if to ask 'your point?'.
"The point is not whether or not she is a veela." Stated Ginny firmly, rolling her eyes at the way the guys groaned, "It's not! She's in love with him and he was obviously in love with her, I think it's ridiculous to say that he doesn't love her anymore."
"You know maybe Bill's just needs a little time right now, he's used to being the white knight and all from what I hear he probably thinks he's saving Fleur from a fate worse than death." Summarized Hermione.
"Thank you Hermione," teased Charlie, "For pointing out the obvious, now…what do we do?"
"Well…"
"…umm…"
"We…could…um…"
"How bout we let them sort it out?" offered Ron, earning himself a bout of laughter.
"Can't," clarified Ginny, "Men in love, especially Weaseley's tend to be kinda daft…"
"I second that." Called Harry with a smug look at Ron, and a flickering glance at Hemione, before he locked eyes with Ginny.
Ron had the grace to turn an unbecoming beet red at that while Hermione flushed prettily.
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"This iz ridiculous! Bill please!"
Unfortunately, the battle worn eldest Weasley, seemed unaffected, by the pleas of his fiancé.
"I already told you that this," he said pointing at him and her, "won't last, I also told you to tell your parents to cancel the party. This idiotic scheme of yours is little short of 'Quibbler' material."
"Oh, my azking ze Healer if you're bite may 'av affected you mentally iz Quibbler material iz it? I vill 'av you know zen, zat ze only reason I azked ,was because you 'av been treating everyone, but me perfectly fine since the …since then."
"Then leave. You can't even bring yourself to talk about it, Merlin. Fleur, I've told you we're not suited, it won't work, just….just go."
"And I 'av already told you zat I vill do no such thing." She shot back her anger making her French accent even more prominent. She strode forward, her eyes level with her fiancé 's , "Listen to me Bill," she said in an effort to sound calm and reasonable, " As I 'av already made abunzantly clear to your mother and family I do not care who zhinks ve are suited and who does not. I vant you."
"I have nothing to offer you."
"Because you 'av a few scars?!" cried Fleur her voice dangerously high pitched.
"Fleur, listen to me…"
"No! You 'ad no misgivings before this 'incident,' I do not see why you should 'av any now!"
"You don't understand! They don't even know how much the bite will affect me. There are zillions of possibilities, what if it's genetic, what if I pass it on, will you be able to deal with that knowledge that we won't have children…all those children we planned Fleur…gone… not one…."
"'Ve can adopt."
"And if I don't want to adopt?"
"Zen we von't! But ve vill 'av each other."
"You'll never have the family you wanted so badly."
"I vant you. I vanted you. Don't you understand!" she cried, tears now silently overflowing onto her pearly cheeks, huge ice blue eyes pools of blue. "You are my family. I am empty 'vithout you."
Bill could feel his gut clench as he watched the silent flow of tears mar the porcelain beauty of his Fiancés cheek.
So beautiful, so very breathtakingly, beautiful.
So perfect.
So whole. Complete.
Her words came to him, as if echoing his own thoughts.
He thought of the coming days without her, they were dark and bleary.
He thought of the nights…
He came out of his thoughts with the soft sniffles his Fiancé was making in an effort to hold back more tears.
He looked deep into her blue eyes, and almost imperceptivity shook his head.
No.
And then it started.
In loud, gasps…as if she couldn't hold it in for another moment…He tried to imagine a grief as great as what he saw before him in her.
Never before had he seen Fleur cry with such force. It was as if to her it was a fate worse than death.
Each sob tightening the hand around his heart till he could no longer take it.
"Don't." he begged, his huge hands gripping the glass of fire whisky in his hand with deranged violence.
But for once his words had not effect on his gorgeous fiancé, no slow smile at his words, no cheeky smirk, no musical laugh, not even an annoyed toss of her head…nothing.
She just went on crying as if her very soul had been torn from her body.
His arms ached to go around her, to comfort her to hold her as he had a million times before and whisper meaningless nothings into her ear.
He tore his gaze from her.
The glass in his hand had cracked, and was now drawing blood from his grip.
He would later turn back on this day and wonder, what had given him the strength to walk out of that room at that moment.
He never found an answer.