"We all thought that if you came back, it would mean a revolution.
That we were going to overthrow Snape and the Carrows."
--Neville Longbottom
A heavy rain was falling, clearing out the mist but only adding to the chill in the air. Bill could hear it drumming steadily on the pitched roof and dripping off the eaves, but it was warm and dry inside Shell Cottage. He was sprawled on the sofa in front of a lively fire, feet on the coffee table.
Fleur was curled up next to him, snoring lightly. He chuckled as he listened to her whistling respirations and tiny snorts. If he ever told her, she would insist that she did not snore, but that wouldn't be accurate. She did, frequently. He found it to be cute.
She stirred against, then sat up, blinking her eyes. "Oh, I'm sorry, I must have fallen asleep."
"It's all right."
"What, what iz it zat you are smiling at?"
"You were snoring."
She narrowed her eyes at him, affronted. "I do many t'ings, Bill Weasley, but I do not snore."
Instead of responding, he just smiled and took her hand in his. It was very small, and warm. Slowly, he traced the soft skin on the back of her hand with the tip of his finger, running it along each long finger and over the smooth, rounded nails. He loved her.
"Fleur?"
"Yes?"
He squeezed her hand and held it between both of his. "When this is all over, what would you say about having a baby?"
She did not answer right away, just regarded him with her large eyes. After a long time, a smile appeared on her face, but it was not a happy one. "Yes, I would like zat very much."
"Me too." He pulled her close to him, planting a kiss on her forehead. Her expression was clear, though-- she didn't ever expect the war to be over. "This will all be done soon. I promise."
"But 'ow do you know?"
"I trust Harry."
She sat up very straight and looked at him full in the face. There were tears in her eyes, but her voice was almost angry. "I know that 'arry is a very strong person, but 'e iz a child. Just a boy. And where 'as 'e been, Bill? Why 'asn't anyone 'eard from 'im, or Ron, or 'ermione?"
"Dumbledore gave them something they have to finish. When they do it, we'll know."
"Yes. I suppose you are right." she said, but then a long sigh escaped from between her pursued lips; a hopeless, defeated sound.
For awhile, the only sound was the unbroken rhythm of the rain and the occasional pop of wood in the grate. Both sat in silence on the sofa as the dancing flames cast surreal prints of light and shadow all around the dark room.
It was only a few days before that the house had hosted refugees from Malfoy Manor-- Harry, Hermione, and Ron, Luna, Dean, Ollivander, and the strange little goblin. Outside, in the tiny garden by the sea, Dobby's grave was marked by a large, flat white rock. Without them, the little house seemed very quiet and very alone, lost between the crashing of the sea on the rocks below, the bellowing of the wind above, and the pounding of the driving rain all around.
After a long time, Fleur shifted and then got to her feet.
"Where are you going?" Bill asked.
"To bed." she responded quietly. Before she could get too far, though, he reached up and grabbed her wrist.
"Tell me… are you afraid?"
Her voice was barely a whisper. "Oui."
"Of what?"
"You're being silly. What do you t'ink I am afraid of? You-Know-'oo--"
"No, I mean… what do you think is going to happen?" He tightened his grip on her wrist. For reasons he could not explain, it was imperative that he know what was in her head. That she voice her worst fears to him.
She looked at him, brows furrowed. "I am afraid that 'arry iz dead, and we are just sitting 'ere, waiting, to be next. I am afraid that 'e will kill us all, and that there will be no one left to make a stand."
He stood up and wrapped his arms around her, wanting desperately not only to protect her, but to instil some sort of hope back into her. "I won't let that happen."
"Ah Bill, I am not sure zat you will 'ave a choice."
Her arms snaked around his waist, and she held him tight. Bill kissed the top of her head, then set his chin onto her silky, sweet-smelling hair. By chance, his gaze swept over the far wall.
It was then that he noticed a curious light in the window. At first, he thought it was lightening, but it did not flash and fade. He watched as it grew brighter by the second, finally letting go of his wife and hurrying to the casement. Once there, he drew back the curtain and peered out into the night.
Outside, all was still very dark, and water was still falling from the roof just beyond the glass, but there was something moving quickly in the sky-- a bright, silvery light.
"What iz it?" Fleur asked, appearing at the window next to him. They watched, stunned, as the light streaked through the clouds and into their window. Dumbfounded, they both turned and stared in silence as the beam resolved into a bright, silvery terrier that stood on the carpet in their sitting room.
"Oi, we're inside the castle." it said in Ron's voice, wagging its' spectral tail. "Harry's here, I'm here, there's a bunch of-- well, anyway, come on. Apparate right into the Hogs' Head, Aberforth'll be there to direct you. We're fighting."
Bill's heart leapt into his throat as he watched the dog fade to hoary swirls of vapour, then disappear completely. He turned to his wife, who looked just as astounded as he felt, mouth hanging half open and eyes wide. Without warning, she broke for the stairs.
"Where are you going?" he shouted as she scrambled towards the upper floor.
"To change!" she called back. "I need to wear pants if we are going to fight!"
Hardly hearing the thumps and swears from above, he pulled on his travelling cloak and checked his pocket repeatedly for his wand. As an afterthought, he extinguished the flames in the hearth-- no sense in burning down the house while they were gone. A moment later, Fleur came thundering back down the stairs.
"Lumos!" she called, holding her wand aloft. He could see that she had traded her skirt for pants, fastened her own travelling cloak around her neck, and tied her long silver-blonde hair back into a ponytail. Her face was flushed, her eyes bright, and when she reached his side, he could feel the anticipation radiating off of her.
"Do you want to go stay with your parents?" he said teasingly.
"Ta gueule!" she spat, drawing herself up to her full height. "I stand by your side. I fight as well." she said, holding her slender rosewood wand in front of her like a sword.
"All right." he replied, pulling his own alder wand from his pocket and clutching it tightly. "Come on."
Together, they ran out the front door into the deluge, holding their cloaks over their heads. They hurried across the flooded grass and through the garden gate, past the protective enchantments that surrounded Shell Cottage.
"Here!" Bill called into the night, catching hold of his wife. She clung to his side and together they turned on the spot, disappearing into the air with a tiny pop that was lost in the sound of the storm.
Author's Note: I forwent updating my other chapter story, "Winter", to post the first chapter of this bad boy. I like doing "missing moments" from JK's books-- it's fun to write about the characters that she's since killed off while not stepping all over canon. Sometimes I forget details and can't find them on the HP lexicon, or the HP wiki, so, if you notice any glaring errors, please let me know.
