Fleur stood in the late afternoon sunshine outside of Gringotts' intricately carved and ornamented facade, trying to memorize it. She had a hard time sketching things from memory; if something was in front of her she could draw it, but otherwise it was more difficult, and never came out looking quite right. She had tried to draw Bill after she returned from home from the tournament, before she knew his name or anything about him. She got his jawline right, and the angle of his nose, but her rough sketch just didn't have...something, and didn't end up looking like him.
She glanced down at the small sketchbook in her hands, flipping back through the pages until she found her first sketch of Bill. She examined it for a moment. Maybe it was his eyes. The eyes in all of her drawings didn't look right, since the end of her seventh year. They always came out looking cold and sightless. Cedric's eyes. She gave an involuntary shiver, trying to banish the memories that still haunted her, and thought of Bill again.
She still felt a little giddy when she thought of the absurd chance of their meeting. That he would happen to be a friend to Harry Potter, so that when she and he both happened to be chosen for the tournament that just happened to be held in the one year she could compete in it, he would be there when she was. That he had lived in Egypt until the very month that she had applied to work for Gringotts, and just happened to be coming back to work for the same company at the same time she was. And then, to top it all off, that he would just happen to walk right into her office, and remember her name!
Fleur looked back up at Gringott's front door, then turned away. She started to sketch an outline of the door, filling in the details as she went. After a few minutes she had a passable sketch, and turned back towards the bank. It was close, and the details she had drawn were fairly accurate, but the proportions weren't quite right. She frowned in concentration. The door was a little wider and not so tall, and the marble columns were more prominent than in her picture. Turning to a new page, she took another look at the building, then turned around to sketch. She felt a little better about it this time; the doors looked right, but she wasn't sure about the tympanum over the archway. She turned back around to get another look.
"What are you doing?"
Fleur jumped a little as she came face to face with Bill Weasley.
"I am sketching."
"Are you sketching Gringotts Bank, or the entrance to Knockturn Alley across the street? Only you don't seem to be able to decide."
Fleur didn't understand what he meant for a moment, and turned behind her - there was the gloomy looking entrance to Knockturn Alley. She realized that her turning back and forth, facing towards the bank then away to sketch, probably looked odd to someone who didn't know what she was doing.
"Gringotts then." Bill was looking over her shoulder at her sketchbook.
"Oui, Gringotts. I am trying to draw it from memory, but I can never get it quite right."
"Looks pretty good to me..."
Fleur held her sketchbook up so that he could see, turning back a page.
"I 'ave drawn zis one first. You see, ze...la proportionnalite, I do not know ze English..."
"Proportionality?"
"Oui, ze 'eight and width in comparison..."
"Yes. Proportionality."
Fleur laughed. "It is ze same in English?"
"So it seems."
"Anyway, ze proportionality is not correct, with ze door and ze columns." She turned the page. "Zis one is better, but le tympan is not right." She sighed, closing her sketchbook.
"What are you doing 'ere anyway, Bill?"
"Actually, I work at Gringotts bank. I have a desk job in the security department, but this French girl from international relations keeps coming by and distracting me. Fortunately she only works part time, and wasn't there today." He had a very serious expression on his face, but she could see the laughter in his eyes.
Fleur tried to look haughty and disdainful, but realized she was failing. Bill grinned at her as she smiled unwillingly.
"Are you going somewhere this evening?" she asked.
"Nope. Nothing to do. Want to do another English lesson?"
"Oui. Zere is a good cafe near mon appartement, if you would like to get dinner?"
"Sure."
"So how long have you been drawing?" Bill asked, as they sat outside the small wizarding cafe just down the street from Ollivanders.
"Forever, I suppose," Fleur answered. She had always loved to make pictures, whether it was finger painting, drawing in the sand at the beach, or coloring with crayons. "At least, as long as I can remember."
"Did you ever think about making a career out of it?"
"Not really. It was...an escape for me. I don't think I would 'ave enjoyed making my art my work. "
Bill nodded.
"I know what you mean. My brother Charlie is brilliant at quidditch - could've played professionally if he'd wanted to. But he's too mellow for the pro-player life. He didn't like the idea of all that pressure to perform, intense training every day, so much riding on every match. I think he was afraid he would start hating it."
"What is 'e doing now?"
"He works with dragons in Romania."
Fleur laughed.
"Do all of your family leave 'ome for absurdly dangerous jobs in other countries?"
Bill shrugged his shoulders and returned her smile, but it didn't reach his eyes.
"And you?" she asked. "Do you 'ave a passion?"
"A passion?"
"Oui - something you love to do, like your brother loves quiddich?"
He didn't answer immediately.
"I don't know about a passion. I don't think there's anything I really loved from the start like Charlie loved to fly. But I came to love some of the things I did. Curse breaking was like that. I pursued it because I was ambitious, I knew it fitted my interests and I wanted to travel, but it wasn't until after about a year of doing it that I really came to love the job."
"What made you decide to go to Egypt?"
Bill laughed.
"Actually, I wanted to go to Cambodia."
"Really? Why?"
"Have you heard of Angkor Wat?"
Fleur shook her head.
"It's this ancient Hindu temple in Cambodia from the 1100s. Muggles know about the surface structures, but there's all kinds of catacombs and hidden chambers underneath it. The Hindu mages built them as a refuge and hoard for magical artifacts and treasure, and put all kinds of protections over them. That's where a lot of the curse breakers were going before I started, and I thought it would be amazing to go halfway round the world, see exotic places in Asia."
"So 'ow did you get sent to Egypt?"
"Well, the Egyptians were a lot cleverer about hiding their magical tombs and treasure than the Cambodians were. For a long time we thought that most of their magical sites were either destroyed or had the curses wear off, and been discovered, raided, and explored by muggles. But right before I started, they had a breakthrough with an Egyptian concealment spell, and started finding tombs and treasure all over. When I was offered a place on one of the first curse-breaking teams to go there, I couldn't turn it down."
They were interrupted by the waitress bringing their dinner; Fleur had ordered a small roast chicken pennne with pesto, but Bill had an odd sort of pastry or pie.
"What is zat?" she asked, as Bill picked it up with his fingers and took a bite out of it.
"It's a cornish pasty." He took another bite. "A delicious cornish pasty."
"A cornish pastry? Why do you eat it with your hands?"
"Pasty. Good wholesome English food. It's tradition, got to be eaten by hand. But what about you?"
Fleur was a little confused.
"I 'ave penne with chicken and pesto."
Bill laughed.
"Not your food. What made you want to come to England? Surely it wasn't the cuisine."
Fleur shifted a little uncomfortably in her seat. Why had she come to England? It had seemed like a good idea at the time. But it would sound silly to say that. One did not just move to another country because it 'seemed like a good idea.' Of course, if she was perfectly honest with herself, part of the reason was sitting right in front of her. But she couldn't very well say that either. 'Actually, I saw you at the triwizard tournament and couldn't stop thinking about you, so I started looking for jobs in England so that I could hopefully see you again.' She settled on most of the truth.
"I was interested in traveling, working in other countries. Gringotts 'ad ze position open in England, and I thought it would be a good place to start."
"So you want to keep traveling?"
Fleur shrugged.
"Maybe. I would like to see more of ze world. Maybe I will see Egypt and Cambodia someday as well."
Bill grinned.
"So you might just travel the world, working whatever jobs you can in other countries to pay for it?"
"I don't know. " Fleur thought that idea had some appeal. It probably would have had a lot more appeal had she not met Bill here in London. But now she was here, sitting in this cafe talking to him, she didn't think there was anywhere else she'd rather be.
"I think I like England. Maybe I will stay 'ere for a while."
"Even if it means you have to keep working for the petites betes?"
Fleur blushed at the memory of her outburst, how she had come out of Monsieur Anceneau's office only to find Bill had heard the whole thing. God, she had wanted to just crawl under something and hide. Bill must have seen her expression, because he laughed.
"It's alright, you know. I've called them much worse at times. Once, in Egypt, I was working on this particularly difficult tomb, and the Goblins were putting a lot of pressure on us to break into it quickly. My boss came in and said 'Bill, your leading on this tomb. The Goblins want it broken by next week.' I hadn't slept hardly at all that night, and I just snapped at him. 'Well tell those greedy, lazy misers that if they want their treasure by next week they can damn well come and get it themselves.'"
Fleur smiled a little.
"Of course, then one of the Gringotts Goblins comes down the stairs, and says yes, that was the general idea. Merlin, I thought I had just lost my job."
Fleur put her hand over her mouth, half horrified, half trying to contain her laughter.
"But you did not lose your job?"
"No. The Goblins are proud, but they are more self interested" he chuckled. "They tend to view humans are rude, uncouth creatures anyway. They don't really care how you dress or talk. If you show you're good at your job, as long as you keep doing it well and don't betray any secrets, they're not likely to get rid of you."
That night Bill apparated home to the Burrow. He was met with an enthusiastic greeting from Ron and Ginny, whom he hadn't seen since the triwizard tournament.
"Bill! You're here!" A small, reddish missile hit him in the chest, and he laughed as he hugged his sister back.
"Good to see you too. Hey, Ron."
"Bill - can you tell us what's going on? Mum and Dad won't say, and the twins are being infuriating about it."
"Sorry, I can't. No, really -" he said at the expression of disbelief and annoyance on Ron's face, "I actually can't. Magical secret. Fred and George can't say anything either, but they probably just want to lord it over you that they know something you don't. You'll find out soon enough, anyway."
"But why do they get to know what's going on, and we don't?"
Bill shrugged.
"That was up to mum, I think. Probably because they're of age now."
"Bill, there you are. Will you come help me with these boxes?" Molly Weasley was standing in the kitchen doorway, looking rather tired. "Ron, have you got everything you need packed yet?"
Ron made a noise of protest.
"How am I supposed to know what to pack if you won't even tell me where we're going?"
"Just pack all you think you'll need for the rest of the summer and school. You'll find out soon enough."
Ron didn't seem satisfied with his mothers answer, but stomped up the stairs to his room nonetheless.
"And tell the twins to come down, they've been shut up in their room all day," she called after him.
Ginny followed Bill into the kitchen, where his mother was shrinking a few pieces of kitchenware to about a quarter of their normal size and putting them in a box, muttering to herself about whether Sirius would have one of these, and would it be better if they had an extra of those.
"You know, you can always come back if you leave something you want," Bill reminded her. "It's not like we're moving permanently."
"I know," his mother sighed. "I'm just worried, and packing helps distract me. How are you, Bill?"
"I'm worried too." He glanced over at his sister. "Ginny's too pretty, mum." His mother just smiled over at her daughter, who seemed to be undecided between taking offense and appreciating the compliment.
"I'm serious. Every time I see her she's more beautiful, and I don't like it. And what's this I hear from the twins about a boyfriend, now?"
Molly straightened up quickly.
"A boyfriend? But you never mentioned him, Ginny!"
Ginny did not look particularly pleased that at the turn of the conversation, and looked daggers at Bill. She was spared any further questioning, however, by the arrival of her father.
Arthur looked tired, but glad to be home. He sank into a chair, his head in his hands.
"Fudge is being as tiresome as ever. Flat out refuses to believe that You-know-who is back, won't even consider taking precautions, and always coming up with new conspiracy theories about Dumbledore..."
"I thought Percy was coming home with you?" Molly asked, summoning a glass from the cupboard to pour her husband a drink.
"He'll be here soon. Said he had an announcement to make."
Percy arrived about fifteen minutes later, looking more than usually pompous and officious.
"Good evening, everyone."
"Hello, Percy," said Bill. "How have you been?"
"I am excellent, thank you William. In fact, I have some news to deliver." He stood up even straighter, puffing out his chest. "I am pleased to announce that I have been promoted to Junior Assistant to the Minister for Magic."
Molly gave him a small smile, but his father did not look particularly impressed.
"And did the minister comment as to why he requested you for such a lofty position?"
Bill noticed his father's tone was rather less mellow and kindly than usual, and took it as a bad sign. Percy seemed to notice as well, and bristled slightly.
"I would hope he chose the best man for the job."
Ron came down the stairs, accompanied by Fred and George.
"Hello, Percy."
"What's this about a best man?" Fred asked.
"Percy, you're trying to decide who's going to be your best man? Congratulations! Who's the lucky lady?" George grinned at his eldest brother, who did not smile back.
"Percy's just got a promotion," Bill murmured to the other Weasley boys. All three looked a little confused.
"Percy, weren't you just in a lot of trouble at work?" Ron asked the obvious question. "I mean, why would you get promoted in the middle of an inquiry?"
"The inquiry was resolved, and it was determined that I did not make any breech in Ministry protocol," Percy answered a little defensively.
"Son," Arthur began slowly. "You know how close our family is to Dumbledore. Fudge knows, and he suspects -"
"I don't see what that has to do with anything. Minister Fudge clearly recognizes my service and loyalty to the Ministry of Magic."
"What do you mean, your loyalty to the ministry?" Arthur's voice had a definite edge to it now.
Percy looked defiant.
"I mean, that I have made it very clear that I support ministry policy and the maintenance of public order, even in the face of unsubstantiated rumors being spread by certain groups, particularly supported by Albus Dumbledore."
There was a palpable tension in the room now, and Arthur no longer looked exhausted, but wide awake.
Bill spoke up. "Hold on a moment, Percy. You're not saying you actually believe all of Fudge's rubbish about Dumbledore?"
"Dumbledore -" Percy began, tersely, but his father cut him off.
"- Is precisely the point. Fudge is paranoid and suspicious about Dumbledore's activities. He knows how close we are to him, and what better way to keep tabs on him than to have a Weasley as his personal assistant."
Percy went very white, though the tips of his ears flushed red.
"That's what you think, is it? That I couldn't have attained such a position on my own? Did you think that just because you were content to sit in your backwater little job in muggle artifacts, that I would have no ambition either?"
His voice was rising. "Did you think I liked having to be known as 'Arthur Weasley's son,' trying to show that, unlike you, I was actually good at my job and cared about my career? Did you think that I liked being poor, never having enough money for new robes or shoes or books?"
His mother flushed.
"Percy! It's not your father's fault that we - anyways, we've always managed to -"
"Not his fault?" Percy was shouting now. "I'm trying to make a name for myself, make a career, and he's off consorting with people like Albus Dumbledore-"
Arthur rose to his feet. "Dumbledore is probably the only hope the wizarding world has, now that Voldemort's back."
Ron, Molly, and Ginny all cringed at the name, but it just seemed to make Percy even angrier.
"Dumbledore is heading for trouble, trying to undermine the Ministry of Magic, and anyone who can't see that is an idiot."
Now Arthur was shouting too.
"The Ministry of Magic policy is nothing more than Cornelius Fudge's insecure, paranoid, power hungry, self-deluding -"
"If you want to get dragged down with Dumbledore, fine. I know where my loyalties are, and so does the Minister. And if you are going to turn traitor to the Ministry, then I'll just have to make it clear that I have nothing to do with you, or any of this family!"
Percy disapparated with an unusually loud pop, and they heard some muffled thumps and stomping from upstairs. Then there was silence.
The Weasley family, minus one, stood still in the kitchen as though petrified. Ginny was the first to move, walking slowly up the stairs towards Percy's room. A minute later, she came back into the kitchen.
"He's gone," she said quietly. "A lot of his things are gone too."
Arthur sank slowly back into his chair, looking more exhausted than before, and Molly suddenly burst into tears. Her husband reached for her hand and pulled her into a hug. Bill left the room, following the twins, Ron, and Ginny. None of them knew what to say, so they all collapsed onto armchairs and sofas in the sitting room.
There was a sudden knock on the front door. Bill rose to answer it, and came face to face with Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody. Moody gave him terse nod in greeting, then stepped inside.
"Ready to go?" he growled. He reached into a pocket of his cloak, and drew out a piece of parchment, unfolding it to reveal a brief note written in thin, slanting handwriting.