Prologue: The Anniversary
AUTHOR: Mnemosyne
SUMMARY: When Fleur is faced with a tragic
loss, she takes it upon herself to see the matter set
right, and the danger be damned. Bill/Fleur.
DISCLAIMER: Not mine! If they were, Bill and
Fleur would have shared a hell of a lot more than one
paragraph in "GoF." *nod!*
RATING: R, for violence, language, and a few
sexual allusions (though not many)
CATEGORY: Angst, romance, drama, (a little)
action
COUPLE(S): Bill/Fleur
CANON: Post-"GoF," set in an AU world that does
not include events from "Order of the Phoenix" (mainly
because, as of this writing, it hasn't been released
yet) :-D For continuity's sake, this story takes place approximately 4 years after GoF.
NOTES:
I'm a die-hard Ron/Hermione 'shipper.
Why do I mention this? Because there is SO MUCH
wonderful R/H fic out there, I couldn't bear to try
and compete. LOL! So I decided to try my hand at
writing my SECOND favorite couple, Bill/Fleur. Just a
heads up: Fleur's accent is HELLA DIFFICULT to
write. LOL! God bless JKR for doing it, because
I don't know how she kept her sanity. If it fades in
and out here and there, please just go with the flow;
I really am trying my best. But with a 9-6 job that
has me stressed out of my mind 5 days out of 7,
getting Fleur's accent 100% correct isn't something
I'm going to agonize over. *giggle!* Please read and
enjoy, and if you enjoy, please review! :)
The house was unusually quiet, bathed in an unnatural
dark for late afternoon, but Fleur Delacour-Weasley
wasn't fooled. It
was their one year wedding anniversary, and if she
knew her husband - which she did - then he was
planning something very special to celebrate.
"Bill?" she called again, shaking some errant Egyptian
dust from her coat before hanging it on the
appropriate hook in the entryway. For fear of losing
their best curse breaker once he got married,
Gringotts
had given Bill and Fleur this modest, two-story home
outside of Thebes as incentive to stay. They'd even
offered Fleur a job as Chief Charmer at their Egyptian
branch office; a position she'd willingly accepted.
Bill had pretended to be an "arrogant fathead" for a
month afterwards, never ceasing to comment on how
"IMPORTANT" he was to the wizarding bank, and how much
they couldn't afford to lose him. He would swagger
around with an egotistical, utterly fake smug smile on
his face, which would never cease to make her laugh.
Fleur herself was expected to kiss the smile away -
which she did without hesitation - and remind him that
if she hadn't come along, he'd still be living in a
one bedroom apartment in Cairo, so SHE was the
important one in the household. Bill would pout,
she'd kiss him again, and most nights they'd end up
curled up and spent on the woolen rug in front of the
fire, because they rarely made it to the bedroom. It
became routine for them, though never boring, so that
even after Bill had stopped overdramatizing his
importance, Fleur found herself spending ungodly
amounts of time with him on that rug. They were, as
Bill's brother Ron liked to put it, sickeningly happy.
"Bill, I am 'ome!" She set her purse on the kitchen
table, and began to unbraid her long, silky,
white-blonde hair. She wore it bound during the
workday, as goblins seemed immune to her quarter-veela
wiles and didn't care for their Chief Charmer walking
around with a curtain of gorgeous hair hanging down
her back. They seemed to think it was too distracting
to their customers. "Where are you,
When there was still no answer, Fleur giggled with
excitement. Tiptoeing into the living room, she saw
an envelope on the mantelpiece, and quickly scurried
forward to pick it up. Tearing it open, she shook out
the single slip of parchment tucked inside.
Twirling the note in her fingers, she floated up the
steps to the second floor. A path of fresh red rose
petals led the way from the stairs to their bedroom
door. "
The door swung open and she leaned in the doorframe,
affecting the most dramatic, desirable slouch she
could muster. Her husband was propped up in bed,
blankets tucked up to his stomach but leaving his
chest bare. He was leaning back against the
headboard, head tilted in her direction, a faint smile
on his lips. Rose petals littered the floor and all
but covered the bed, like a velvety scarlet duvet.
Fleur purred. "Zo?" she said smokily, stepping into
the bedroom and slinking towards the bed. "Are you
prepared to work,
Bill didn't answer. Instead, he tipped onto his side,
face unmoving, eyes vacant and staring, hands frozen
in a lazy curl. As though he'd fallen asleep without knowing.
As though he'd been posed that way. Fleur stared
at his face, and realized for the first time how pale
it was in the waning light of the golden afternoon.
"Bill?" she murmured, her voice shaking a little.
When he didn't answer, she felt a burning lump of
desperation rise in her throat. "Bill?" she tried
again, adding to the question with a gentle touch of
his shoulder.
He was cold as ice.
Tears sprang to Fleur's eyes. "No!" she cried,
sliding off the mattress to land on her knees by the
bedside, cradling his milk white face between her
hands. "No, Bill! My Bill!
Her screams were in vain. Bill Weasley was dead,
tucked naked into their marriage bed, the Dark Mark of
the Dark Wizard burned into the back of his neck. He
lay still as stone in his wife's arms as she sobbed
out her anguish to the universe, and red rose petals
spilled over the edge of the bed like blood.
"Bill?"
TBC...
*Diable charmant: "Charming devil."
**Ne mourez pas, mon coeur! Queest-ce que je
ferai?: "Don't die, my heart! What will I do?"