A/N: This is a songfic based off of the song Sorry-Grateful from Company, a Sondheim musical. Please R&R.
Disclaimer: All characters belong to J.K. Rowling. All dialogue between Bill and his father, at least the rhyming bits, are lyrics to the song Sorry-Grateful.
Sorry-Grateful
Bill was standing in his bedroom, peering at his reflection in the mirror. His brother, Charlie, was adjusting Bill's tie for him.
"You nervous?" Charlie asked.
Bill clenched his jaw.
"A little. Do you think I'm ready for this?"
"No," Charlie laughed, "But neither is she. So I think you'll make a good pair. You'll muddle your way through. I mean, who's ever really ready when it happens? Maybe a select few are fully ready. But I think you'll be able to handle it," Charlie smiled.
"Thanks," Bill said, not fully convinced.
Charlie clapped him on the shoulder, "You'll be fine," he smiled.
The door opened, and their father peered into the room. He saw them and smiled. Closing the door behind him, he entered the room, crossed over to them, and pulled Bill into a hug.
"My boy. I'm so proud of you," he pulled away and held Bill at arms length, looking at him with immense pride. Bill smiled sheepishly. Charlie backed out of the room quietly, leaving his father to give his own pep talk.
"Are you nervous?" Mr. Weasley asked.
Bill walked to the window and peered out of it.
"Dad, are you ever sorry you got married?"
His father walked over to him. He was watching his mother go through the final preparations of the wedding. She was presently shouting at George, who had petrified a lawn gnome and was trying to pass it off as a centerpiece. Mr. Weasley put his arm around Bill's shoulder.
"You're always sorry. You're always grateful. You're always wondering what might have been – then she walks in," Arthur was gazing at Molly with a gleam in his eye, "And still you're sorry, and still you're grateful, and still you wonder and still you doubt – and she goes out."
Molly had plucked the gnome from the table and stormed off, flinging the gnome over the garden wall.
"Everything's different, nothing's changed. Only maybe slightly rearranged," Arthur gestured to the array of tables and decorations in the backyard.
"You're sorry-grateful, regretful-happy. Why look for answers when none occur? You always are what you always were, which has nothing to do with, all to do with her."
He looked at his son, "You hold her thinking 'I'm not alone.' You're still alone. You don't live for her, you do live with her," he nodded and smiled, "You're scared she's starting to drift away. And scared she'll stay."
"Will we fight? What if we don't get along? What if we can't agree on anything?" Bill asked.
"Good things get better, bad get worse. Wait, I think I mean that in reverse. You're sorry-grateful, regretful-happy. Why look for answers when none occur? You'll always be what you always were, which has nothing to do with, all to do with her," Arthur turned Bill away from the window, holding him at arms length again. "I love your mother. She's the best thing that ever happened to me. My wedding day was the best, and most terrifying day of my life. You're ready."
Bill smiled, "Thanks, Dad."