A/N this story is written for MoonlightForgotten's houses competition.

House: Ravenclaw

Category: Drabble

Prompts: An injury/ awkward moment

Disclaimer: I do not own harry potter or anything affiliated with it. It is all JK Rowling's genius.

Bill/Fleur "words" "French"

That picture was crooked.

Bill had been home at the burrow for all of forty seconds and already he had something to complain about. The young curse-breaker narrowly avoided colliding with a cabinet he knew contained fragments of over a decade of Weasley children's toys. Molly never seemed to be able to throw any of them away. He muttered a low curse under his breath and rubbed his sore elbow.

His mother had invited him and his wife to the burrow for a long-awaited visit tomorrow, but he had declined. Allegedly she wanted to see her oldest son, but Bill knew that in the few moments before Fleur arrived his mother would be at his throat.

Of the seven Weasley brats, Molly only seemed to be particularly keen on his love-life. If only Ron had a girl-friend everything could be so much simpler. No one would care what Bill got up to if ickle-Ronniekins brought home a girl. Though on second thought, Bill mused, his brother might not swing that way. At least if Ron's present friend-group was any indication, he and Harry were clearly blind, or gay.

Not that he cared. So long as Harry didn't end up screwing You-Know-Who, or anything else equally nauseating. Disturbed by his thought process, Bill shook himself. Clearly he was just going through some-sort of mid-Fleur crisis. After all, the veela had done wonders for him, never-before could he...stopping that train of thought as well, lest his lust for Fleur completely negate the reason he was snooping around the Burrow at half-past one, Bill opened the larder.

Ah, there it was. The most-amazing, Molly-made, mouthwatering...the secret Weasley recipe for a full English breakfast. In her late stage of pregnancy Fluer had demanded that Bill get her a "vrai petit dejeuner anglais". She had begged him to accept Molly's invitation to the burrow. Coward that he was, he could not bring himself to go through another one of Molly's rants, but after a week of the veela's cravings the soon-to-be father had been unable to deny her any longer.

Which brought him to where he was standing now. He had apparated into the back-garden and crept over the wall to steal the precious recipe. After all, his mother was a powerful witch, one he had no desire to confront directly. Here he was, about to steal her jealously-kept treasure. Bill took a moment to appreciate that he was still intact.

He reached up to the recipe shelf and grabbed his prize. Grinning to himself, he turned around just as the lights in the kitchen blinked on...

"WILLIAM WEASLEY!"

He had tickled the sleeping dragon. "How dare you come here in the middle of the night to steal my recipes. Have you no shame?" There, posed in the doorway, was the wicked witch herself.

Molly continued, "You, a grown man, sneaking over my garden wall! What on earth has prompted this?"

Stammering, and blushing beet-red Bill stuttered out his reasoning: that Fleur was craving Molly's cooking, about his fears, and finally about the coming of his new daughter.

"A Grandchild!" his mothers eyes lit up and they sparkled with a new, dangerous gleam. "Well, if your wife is craving an English breakfast, then I will make her one." Bill thanked her profusely. "Under one condition", Molly bargained, "When my first grandchild is born, you will bring her here so that she can spend time with her grandma. I miss having young children in the house."

Bill smiled in relief, "Sure Mum. Just one question, what is the secret ingredient on your eggs?"

Molly stated simply,

"Parsley."