A/N: Y'all are in for a treat! This is a joint project with MandyinKC. We are both posting today and will then alternate a total of seven chapters each, beginning tomorrow, so that means two weeks of daily updates! Be sure to head over to her profile and follow Reflections.
There are so many references to my other fics throughout this one that I won't be listing them out each time, but if you have a question or aren't sure where to go to read more about something, just ask!
My regular beta is cruising the Caribbean at the moment, not to mention busy as MOH planning the wedding of our BFF. Special thanks to Arnel63 for jumping in so effectively!
May 2, 1999
Bill slid out of bed carefully, not wanting to wake his wife at four in the morning. Fleur had insisted she would get up with him, but there was no reason she needed to get up in the middle of the night. He, on the other hand, was Head of Gryffindor House and responsible for getting a couple hundred teens and preteens up, dressed, and down to the lake before the memorial service started at dawn. In northern Scotland. In May.
But it wasn't the time or the weather that he was really dreading; today was the one-year anniversary of Fred's death.
The Battle of Hogwarts meant so many things to different people: fear, terror, pain, loss, victory, triumph, grief, peace, relief … just thinking about it stirred up his own conflicting memories. The joy of Percy's return. The instant panic upon seeing him carrying Fred's body (Bill had known it was Fred because George was standing right in front of him) into the Great Hall. Remus, and not long after, Tonks being laid out beside him. Harry's apparent death, then resurrection. The utter chaos that followed. The shock of Mum's duel with Bellatrix Lestrange. The instinctive whoop! when he realized Voldemort was dead and it was finally over.
Except it wasn't.
If Bill had learned anything in the last eight months of living at Hogwarts, of being teacher, mentor, and confidant to six years' worth of pupils who had experienced Hogwarts during Voldemort's reign, it was that the effects of war didn't end with the fighting. He had actually made a list of Gryffindors who had lost loved ones, worried he would forget to check in today with someone who might be struggling. Not that death was the only suffering the pupils had experienced; managing the inter-house relationships in his N.E.W.T.-level lessons had taken all the negotiating and diplomatic skills he'd developed as the oldest of seven, and then some.
Aaaand, he was back to Fred.
He stood in the silent common room for a minute, taking in its unnatural state of perfect cleanliness and complete silence. He'd never been here with Fred. Charlie and Percy, yes, but the age difference between Bill and the twins had him leaving the castle before they arrived. Percy was the only one of them who'd had time at school with every sibling.
Percy was likely to be battling demons today too, and Charlie still blamed himself for not arriving at the Battle sooner. George … well, no one was sure if George would even show. Ronnie would be here, of course. In fact, Bill realized as he climbed the boys' staircase, Ron might be the one who least needed his attention today. Supported by (and supporting) Harry, distracted by the reunion with Hermione and even Ginny (because no way the friendship between his two youngest siblings would be ignored today, of all days), Ron would probably make it through the ceremony okay. And Ginny he could check in with later, after everyone left. Siblings all accounted for (at least mentally), Bill rapped sharply on the door of the seventh years' dormitory.
()()()()
When Bill returned to the common room, certain that all the boys were at least vertical if not exactly awake, Hermione was presiding over the group of sleepy first- and second-year girls.
"Why do we have to get up while it's still ni—i—ighttime?" one yawned.
"Because the ceremony starts at dawn," Hermione said, encouraging the first two girls in line to move closer to the portrait hole so as to make room for the rest of the house to come downstairs.
Despite it all, Bill bit back a smile. Hermione really could be painfully literal sometimes.
"No, I mean—"
But Hermione had moved on, fussing over other details. Her own way of dealing with the stress and anxiety of the morning, Bill knew, and as his sister's voice echoed down the girls' staircase—
"No, Evelyn, I said dressed and in the common room by 4:45, and slippers don't count!"
He realized he had forgotten a sibling, or as good as … Hermione.
She looked a hell of a lot better than this time last year—clean, well-fed, and wearing robes of good repair. Despite the year of growth since her encounter with Fiendfyre had necessitated a rather dramatic haircut, her hair was shorter than it had been and curled wildly around the Alice band she'd placed to keep it out of her eyes. But her posture was tense, her face drawn, and Bill made a note to make sure she didn't isolate herself completely today. He'd observed her tendency to do so when overwhelmed, both at Shell Cottage last spring and this year at Hogwarts, and today certainly qualified for the young witch.
Evelyn had apparently found her shoes, for here were she and Ginny, pushing their way through the mob of boys trickling down from the staircase on the other side of the room.
Bill left the queuing and the counting to his prefects, waiting patiently beside the portrait hole for them to indicate everyone was ready. He'd spent most of his free time over the last week thinking about what to say this morning, but nothing had sounded right. In the end, he'd decided on the basics.
"We will be walking through the castle directly to the lake," he said. "Professor McGonagall has determined Gryffindor House will lead the procession, so seventh years—" He paused to make eye contact with the back of the room— "Be sure the Hufflepuff first years follow you out of the Entrance Hall. First years—" Bill smiled at the kids right in front of him. It had taken some time, but the gruesome drawing of his scars when he did so no longer frightened them. "You're going to be the first seated. Take the first row in the back section next to the lake, and be sure to walk all the way to the end of the row. You lot in the middle," he waved a hand, "will have to pay attention to see when you'll need to start a new row. Any questions?"
"How long will the ceremony last?"
"I don't know, but I hope it goes without saying that I expect each and every one of you to sit quietly and respectfully until you are dismissed." He followed this statement with a slow survey of the room, making eye contact with the kids in each year who were natural leaders. "And take care of each other today—this is a difficult day for many of us. From all the houses," he emphasized.
Several of the girls, including Hermione and Ginny, reached for the hands of nearby friends, and there was a slight shuffling as many of the boys moved closer to one another.
Bill pushed open the portrait hole and led the way.
()()()()
The ceremony ended with the reading of the names of the fifty witches and wizards who had been killed here, at Hogwarts, during the Final Battle. Kingsley's deep voice echoed across the audience and the lake beyond, and he waited for each reverberation to fade before reading the next one. It was some moments after he finished before the audience realized the ceremony was over, and it was not until Harry left the stage that the crowd began to break up in earnest.
Bill was sitting with his family. There were many things he would do for Minerva McGonagall, but among all the other sacrifices he had made this year to cover the position of Head of Gryffindor House, abandoning his family at the memorial of Fred's death was not one of them. Ginny had felt the same way, especially with Harry, Ron, and Hermione seated up front, so now Bill stood between his wife and his sister, glancing easily over the heads of the crowd to confirm his pupils were more or less making an orderly return to the castle. Ginny slid under his right arm in a hug, and as she did so, Bill noticed his parents were still seated at the opposite end of the row. He hesitated for a moment, rubbing his sister's back absently, but Mum and Dad were turned into each other, heads bent together and backs to the outside. Deciding it was best to leave them alone for now, he turned to follow Fleur and noticed a familiar brunette approaching from the opposite direction.
As Amy Green and Fleur exchanged basic pleasantries, Bill reached round Ginny to poke Charlie sharply in the kidney. Having successfully drawn Charlie's attention to her presence, Bill turned to the woman in question and accepted her hug.
"How are you?" she asked.
"Alright," he said simply. "You?"
She had been crying; the red rim around her eyes and used tissue sticking out of one robe pocket confirmed it, but she nodded. "Yeah. Considering." Amy then smiled at his sister. "Hey, you."
Ginny almost fell into her embrace, and Bill made a mental note to make sure neither his sister nor Harry appeared at breakfast. Ginny needed more than an end-of-day check-in with her oldest brother a.k.a. professor a.k.a. Head of House. He sighed.
Amy had the back of her hand on Ginny's head, holding her against her shoulder and speaking quietly. "It gets better, Ginny. I promise it does."
She sniffed and nodded, pulling away, and Amy gave her a tender smile, straightening the collar of her robes. Bill was suddenly reminded of a happier Amy and a much younger Ginny, that summer after the Chamber when Amy had helped Bill help Ginny. He dawdled, wanting to see Charlie and Amy's interaction, but Charlie pushed Percy ahead of him. Fleur called his name, and he quickened his step to catch her up.
She took his hand and leaned in close. "It may be inappropriate to say, today of all days…."
"But?"
"If Charlie and Amy are still friends, they will not be for long."
Bill smiled and kissed the top of her head. His wife had a perfect record so far, having predicted Harry and Ginny, Ron and Hermione, and even Dean and Luna's fling last May, not to mention their own relationship. Maybe it was the French in her; maybe it was the Veela. Whatever it was, Bill no longer doubted it.
"You think so?"
"Mmm," Fleur murmured. "Come this way."
She led him away from the crowd walking down the drive, past the castle, towards Hagrid's hut and the Forbidden Forest beyond. In short order they were hidden amongst the trees, the familiar landmarks of the grounds still visible between the branches.
"Fleur? What are we doing here?"
"Resting," she said simply. "You have spent all of yesterday and this morning thinking of everyone else, but Fred was your brother. Remus and Tonks your friends. Take a moment, before you go back to the castle and become responsible for everyone else again."
And there it was, the reality he'd been trying to avoid for longer than yesterday. Her arms were around his back, her beautiful face watching his, but Bill looked away.
"I—can't," he said hoarsely. "I can't, Fleur, because if I think about it—think about him—" Unbidden came the memory of Christmas, his first year in Egypt. He'd come home unannounced to surprise his mother, and the twins had been so excited to tell him everything about their first term at Hogwarts he'd hardly been able to say hello to everyone else, Fred talking a mile a minute with George chiming in with extra details and both of them finishing each other's sentences.
Fleur squeezed harder, resisting his efforts to turn away. For such a slim witch, she was strong … and strong-willed. He relented, tucking his face in the crook of her neck and breathing in the sweet smell of shea butter soap and her.
It was only after she spoke, long minutes later, that Bill realized she'd been tracing the lines of his back.
"Hmmm?"
"I said, I found your list."
"What list?" he asked, mentally reviewing his map of the grounds and wondering how much longer before he was missed in the Great Hall.
"This one," she said, letting go to pull a piece of parchment from her pocket. "You left someone off. I added him for you."
"Who?" Immediately alert, Bill straightened.
"See for yourself."
There, at the bottom of the list of names, in his wife's elegant handwriting, was his own. Bill Weasley.
"Subtle, aren't you?"
She gave a Gallic shrug. "I try."
He kissed her. "Modest, too," he murmured.
"Non, pas moi," she breathed, deepening the kiss and erasing any idea of an answer.
"Maybe—" Bill broke away a few moments later, slightly breathless. "Maybe, by next year…."
"We will have something to celebrate by then, no?" She smiled up at him.
"Yes," he said. "Maybe a baby to make everyone smile."