As promised!

"We've all got both light and dark inside us. What matters is the part we choose to act on. That's who we really are."

-JK Rowling, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

Let's remember this and choose the light.


Chapter Seven

The evening before Catriona Wood was due to become a refugee, Percy found himself standing in the empty and quiet kitchen of Red's Wood. Even in those first days after Dougal and Fergus died, when that horrible silence had settled over the house, Percy couldn't remember this room being empty. There had always been somebody making tea or feeding the baby or assembling a tray of sandwiches that would go uneaten. In happier times, Percy could remember loud family meals and quarreling brothers and scones baking in the oven. This home and this kitchen had been as happy as the Burrow.

Percy wandered through the hall into the foyer, marking other changes. The photographs were gone. Catriona and Dougal's wedding portrait, the photo from the christening, countless others. Mrs. Wood hadn't just removed those photographs, but regrouped the frames. Percy could see where the paint was brighter in places now that a frame was missing. He also noticed how few pictures there now were of Dougal. There wasn't a single picture of him over the age of fifteen.

Taking out his wand, Percy charmed the walls so that the paint matched. There, now no one would ever guess that something was missing. Unless, of course, they looked too closely.

"Oh, hello, lad."

Percy turned to see Mr. Wood coming from his library. He was a big man, tall with broad shoulders like his sons. For as long as Percy could remember, Cal Wood had neatly clipped white hair and beard, wrinkles around his eyes that suggested good humor. Today, however, he looked tired, aged, and unbearably sad.

The older man came to stand by Percy, staring at the wall of photographs. "I wish she would have just taken down the whole damn lot of them."

With a sigh, Mr. Wood clapped Percy on the back and disappeared into the kitchen.

The next person to appear was Catriona. She was taking deliberate steps down the stairs, careful where she put each foot. It wasn't until she was at the bottom of the stairs that she looked up and saw Percy.

"Cal will bring down the trunk shortly," she reported.

"Where's Campbell?" Percy asked, moving away from the photos.

"Having a last snuggle with his Nan."

Catriona rubbed at her eyes, turning away for a moment. Percy pulled a fresh handkerchief from his breast pocket and pressed it into Catriona's hand. Then he turned away, feeling embarrassed to be witness to such private moments.

"Cheers," she said. "I'm alright, but Ollie…."

Percy looked at her. "What about Oliver?"

"He just came from Katie's a little more than an hour ago. He-he won't say much about it, but I know he's hurting. They've had so little time together."

It was true: Oliver and his Katie had not had an easy time of it. The war, death, and tragedy had conspired to keep the two apart just as they were finally becoming something more than friends. Whilst Oliver had never told Percy directly, he had seen the many owls that had gone back and forth with letters in the weeks after Dougal and Fergus' deaths. Oliver and Katie had kept up a steady stream of correspondence, and Percy couldn't help but feel that it was Katie's letters that gave Oliver the strength to be there for his family in their grief.

"I'll take you to Shell Cottage," Percy offered. "I'll tell Oliver to go back to Katie's—if that's okay with you?"

Catriona nodded. "I think that would be best."

Percy watched Catriona fiddle with a strand of her ginger hair for a moment. He'd expected to find her sad, but resigned. Yet, she seemed distracted.

"Is there something worrying you?" Percy asked.

She glanced at him and took a deep breath. "It's Bill…I-I haven't seen him since before he was mauled by Greyback. I don't want to do or say anything to upset him."

"He looks different," Percy admitted. "He has five long claw marks across his face and part of his right ear is missing. His smile is different—"

Catriona made an anguished noise. No one who knew Bill wouldn't recall his winning smiles.

"He had to have stiches in his lip," Percy reported, touching his own mouth.

"That must have been serious," Catriona whispered. "In all the years I worked at St. Mungo's I only knew of one incident when Muggle stitches were used. I believe that patient's name was also Weasley."

"Yes," Percy replied dryly, "my family likes to set all sorts of healing precedents."

They lapsed into silence. No matter how hard they tried, there was no way to make light of the fact that a number of Percy's family members had nearly died while his back was turned. Percy pushed away the thought of Dad being bitten by that damned snake. That had been a horrible night of waiting and agonizing, followed by a day of listening to Fudge malign his father as a fool and a traitor. Bile surged up Percy's throat just thinking of it.

He cleared his throat. "But you needn't worry," he assured Catriona. "Bill is still Bill. Easy going, good humored, dependable Bill."

oOo

Old photos littered Bill's desk. Most of them from his Hogwarts days, a few from later. He picked up one from his Leaving Ceremony. There he was, nearly a decade ago, with his arm around Dougal Wood's broad shoulders. Over and over, they raised their wands and shot off crimson and gold sparks into the air, grinning like idiots. They looked so damned young. Bill picked up a second photo, still from the Leaving Ceremony, but this one of Dougal with Catriona. Bill may have gotten older, and Dougal sure as hell did, but Catriona looked just the same. In the photo, Dougal held Catriona in his arms, grinning down at her, then one of his hands reached for the lens, but Bill could just make out the pair kissing.

Dougal had asked Catriona to marry him that day. Bill had known his friend was planning it. Hell, Dougal had been planning it since they'd been fourteen, and Catriona broke Dougal's nose in a Quidditch match. Yet, Catriona had surprised them all by saying "no." Apparently, getting married straight out of school was unusual for Muggles and Dougal's proposal had come as something of a shock for her. Not that Dougal had been deterred, not in the least. He'd put that famous Wood stubbornness to good use. It took him more than a year, but Dougal finally convinced Catriona that their love was bigger than age or conventions and finally Catriona said "yes."

Bill had been at the wedding that took place six months after. It was one of the few times he'd returned to England after taking the curse-breaker job in Egypt. He remembered seeing Catriona at the top of the aisle with her wild hair tamed in a sleek updo and her nervous smile. At the other end was Dougal, smiling confidently. There had never been a moment when he doubted that Catriona was the love of his life. They'd been just twenty at the time.

Years later, when Bill recruited Dougal to the Order of the Phoenix, Catriona was already pregnant. Not that Bill had known that at the time. Maybe if he had, he would have never asked. And then what? It would be Dougal whisking his wife and child to safety in Europe, instead of this clandestine group sneaking a young widow and her child out of the country.

"Bill, zey are here."

Fleur was standing on the threshold, hand on the doorknob. There was a sad look on her face, as if she knew what he was doing, what he was feeling. Maybe she did. Fleur could read him like a book.

"Alright, love," he murmured.

With another sad look, she slipped out of the room. Bill pulled his wand from the worn leather sheath he wore on his forearm and with a swish, the photos levitated then marched in an orderly fashion back into their box. He holstered his wand and stood slowly.

Before reaching the hall, Bill could already hear the baby whimpering and Catriona's familiar brogue soothing him. Bill hadn't seen them since the funeral where Catriona had been wearing formal, black witches' robes and her hair had been tightly braided under a pointed hat. He remembered watching the baby squirm in her lap instead of listening the minister. Bill had been struck then by how alone Catriona had looked, even as he was sitting with Fleur's hand in his own.

Bill took a deep breath before joining the others. Percy was standing by the door, looking like a giant and clumsy bird. That thought brought a smile to Bill's lips, and for the first time that day, a bit of the weight in his chest lifted. Fleur was fawning over the baby, who was frowning, tears in his eyes. Catriona's were looking at her son, but her eyes came up to meet Bill's when he stepped into the entryway.

There was a moment when time stood still as Catriona took in Bill's new appearance. He was aware of how gruesome a sight he was these days. Upon returning to work, the goblins barely seemed to notice the change, but his human co-workers could barely make eye contact. It was a relief sometimes, knowing he was unlikely to meet old acquaintances in Diagon Alley. At least he didn't have to endure their pitying stares or appalled faces. None of that in Catriona's expression. He could read sadness in her green eyes, but also the same old affection and friendship that had always been there.

"Fleur," Catriona said, "did you know that you left hundreds of witches across Britain and Scotland heartbroken when you took Bill Weasley off the market?"

Fleur looked over her shoulder at Bill before turning back to the taller witch. "Oh, oui, all zee other secretaries at zee bank were quite jealous when he asked me out, including Terrance and Randall. Zey were hoping zat Bill secretly fancied wizards."

Bill felt himself blush.

Catriona laughed. "Well, he was always a pretty boy. Even at Hogwarts, a fair number of wizards had fancied Bill."

"Shut it, you two," Bill growled, noting that even Percy was laughing now.

Catriona shifted Campbell onto her hip, the baby snuffled and pressed his red face into her bosom. Then Bill was being embraced by one of his oldest friends. Merlin, she was comforting him, and he didn't deserve it, not from her. Not from a woman who had lost so much more than he had. All the same, Bill found himself clinging to her. When she pressed a kiss into his scared cheek, Bill couldn't help but feel grateful and relieved and guilty all at once.

When they pulled back, Bill's eyes locked with Catriona's just for a moment. Long enough for a wave of grief and regret to pass between them.

"Oh, the stories I could tell," Catriona said with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"We have all night," Fleur said, doing her best to smile and sound chipper. She looked at Percy. "Will you join us for dinner?"

"No," Percy said with a shake of his head. "Thank you, but I must be going. I'll be here early tomorrow."

"Audrey will be here, as well," Fleur said with sly grin.

Percy pushed his glasses up, red creeping up his neck. "Well, I should hope so," he blustered.

Bill laughed at his brother's expense, feeling the balance restored now that the focus was off of him. The witches disappeared into the kitchen, as Bill saw Percy out. They confirmed the time of departure for the following morning. When Bill entered the kitchen, Fleur was preparing a bottle of wine.

"Would you like a glass, Catriona?" she asked, using her wand to remove the cork. "It is a nice red tonight, as Bill likes his meat rare."

Catriona sighed. "Alas, no. I can't drink as long as I'm nursing him."

Fleur looked thunderstruck, Bill could only laugh.

"Rethinking having my babies, there, love?"

"Oui! No wine, I hadn't zought about zat…" She shook her head and looked at Bill, her blue eyes twinkling with mischief. "I am a Frenchwoman, Bill, I cannot live without my wine. I hope you will not be disappointed."

"Not nearly as disappointed as my mother," Bill said with a laugh.

Fleur pulled a face, then handed Bill a glass of wine. "Molly will get over it."

"I wouldn't count on it."

oOo

"Well, then, what is going on with that arm?"

Bill looked at Catriona. She was sitting on the floor, a cup of tea in one hand and the other stroking the sleeping Campbell's back where he lie on the floor beside her. When Bill didn't respond right away, she merely lifted her eyebrows expectantly and waited. Finally, he set his own teacup on the end table and sat next to her. Fleur had discreetly excused herself after dinner to let the old friends have a bit of a catch up.

"I don't know what you are talking about," he replied, the corner of his mouth tugging into a smirk. He knew he wasn't going to be able to put her off.

"I've been watching you favor your left arm all night, Bill. You won't even pick up a tea cup with it."

It was Bill's turn to lift his brows. Just to spite her, he leaned forward and very purposefully picked up the tea cup with his left hand. Catriona's face clearly said that she knew he was full of shit, but he just smirked. He lifted the cup to his lips to take a sip only to have it jerked out of his hand, hot liquid slopping onto his shirt and crotch.

"Shite!" he muttered, taking his wand out and vanishing the liquid.

Catriona set the cup in its saucer. "Now, pick up the saucer."

With a sigh, Bill did as he was told, already knowing what the result would be. It was one thing to pick up the whole cup, hand curled around the bowl, and another to pick up the saucer made unwieldy by the full cup sitting in its center, grasped between his thumb and forefinger. As he lifted the delicate blue and white china saucer, his hand trembled causing the cup on top to clatter, sloshing milky tea onto the plate. Disgusted, Bill plunked the china back down.

"Happy?" he growled, throwing himself back against the sofa.

"Not in the least," Catriona responded. "So, are you going to tell me about it?"

Was he? Catriona was making it so easy. She had been a medi-witch at St. Mungo's before the baby was born, and when she spoke to him, there was no pity in her voice. She was professional—compassionate and no-nonsense all at once.

"Well," Bill started, and pointed at his face, "aside from this charming reminder to all who see me that I was werewolf fodder, the bastard took a chunk out of my hand." Bill held up his left hand, the last two fingers where missing their ends.

Catriona nodded. "I noticed." She took his hand, running her thumbs over the scars that littered back of it. "But that's not what's bothering you."

"I don't know, it's pretty damn gruesome."

"Are the tendons damaged?"

Bill pursed his lips, not surprised that Catriona deduced the real problem. "Not in the hand."

Before he could think better of it, Bill unbuttoned his white shirt and pulled his left arm out of the sleeve, revealing the bandages underneath. His arm was neatly wrapped across his chest, around his shoulder and down to his wrist. There were a couple of red splotches staining the otherwise pristine white. Catriona shifted to kneel before him and began unwinding the bandages.

"Who does your dressings?" she asked.

"Fleur."

"She does a very nice job. How often does she change them?"

"Now? Just once a day. In the beginning, it was every few hours."

"So, your wounds have improved then?"

"Well, they no longer bleed, and I'm off the blood replenishers."

When the bandages were gone, Catriona sat back on her haunches and looked unflinchingly at the red and raw bite marks that covered his arm. The worst tore into his tricep, accompanied by the slash of claws. That was the one that still seeped, though not like before.

Catriona peered at the wound closer, prodding the flesh around it with gentle, but competent fingers. "And he was a man, when he did this?"

"I don't think that Greyback is a man at all."

She curled her lip. "Aye, truer words…." She shook her head, then returned to her former, professional manner. "So, the arm is weak, what else?"

"Diminished sensation, unless you count the tingling numbness that's nearly as bad as the pain I was in when I first woke up."

"Tendons, muscles, nerve endings," Catriona recited. "And magic can do nothing to repair it?"

"Cursed wounds," Bill replied with a shrug.

Catriona snorted. Bill looked at her, and she burst out with a full chuckle.

"The curse breaker with the cursed wounds," she scoffed.

"Finally," Bill exclaimed, matching her grin, "somebody sees the humor in it."

"Aye, well, medi-witches are known for their gallows humor, aren't they?"

"Laugh or cry, is it?"

"Something like that." Her brow furrowed as she studied his arm again. "The stitches worked on your mouth, aye?"

Bill touched the corner of his mouth. "Yes. What are you thinking?"

Catriona shrugged. "Well, I'm no healer."

Bill rolled his eyes. "But…."

"I just wonder if Muggle surgery could repair the damage to your arm?" Catriona shrugged again and sat back. "I'm not up to date with Muggle medicine—especially regarding nerve damage—so it's just speculation. I do know that it would be a long, painful recovery."

Bill let his arm go limp by his side. "Well, I can't afford that just now. Especially if we don't even know if it would work."

He didn't add that the thought of being cut into frightened him. He'd had a Muggle-born mate in Egypt who liked to watch surgeries on the telly. There had been something barbaric about the way the surgeons cut into flesh and sinew. Even the needle piercing his skin for the stitches had seemed crude to him, though he couldn't deny the results.

"Would you like me to redress that?" Catriona offered.

Bill shook off his thoughts. "No, I usually let it breath at night anyways."

While Bill pulled his shirt back on and Vanished the old bandages, Catriona settled in beside him again. He watched her fuss with the baby's blanket for a minute.

"So, are you going to tell me where we are going tomorrow?" she asked.

"You'll be staying with Fleur's parents in France," he replied. "Fleur was hoping, being a medi-witch, you might lend your skills to the Order of Mercy and help with any Muggle-borns who might be injured during their escape."

Catriona smiled, her eyes flashing. "Aye, it'll be good to lend a hand and keep my skills from getting rusty. That witch of yours, she has a good heart."

Bill felt a fond smile stretch across his face as he looked down at his hands folded in his lap. "That she does."

"Dougal and I use to worry about you." Catriona leaned her head against Bill's shoulder.

Bill snorted. "I doubt that."

"All right then, I worried, and Dougal told me that it was a waste of energy, that you'd figure it out in the end. And he was right, he usually was." She looked up at Bill through her lashes. "I always figured you would marry someone brilliant—and Fleur is, of course—but I always hoped you'd find somebody who was as kind and brave as you are and you did."

"How could you doubt?" Bill teased.

Catriona glared at him. "Would you like me to name every horrible girlfriend you had at Hogwarts?"

"No, please don't."

"And I have to admit, I wasn't so sure about Fleur the first time I met her, or the second, for that matter."

Bill remembered taking Fleur to meet Dougal and Catriona at the Leaky Caldron. They'd only been dating for about three months, and Fleur was very nervous about meeting the older, married couple who were so important to him. He wasn't surprised that Catriona was put off by Fleur when they first met, she did not make a good impression.

"I couldn't understand what you saw in that brittle little girl with the haughty manners," Catriona explained, and Bill snorted. "But Dougal wouldn't say anything either way."

"He was always a good judge of character."

"Aye, he was," Catriona agreed. She fell silent for a moment, staring at some distant point. Just when Bill was going to change the subject, she continued, "And I had learned to trust his judgment by then. If Dougal thought Fleur was worth giving a second—or third—chance, then so did I.

"So, we had the two of you over to our flat, and we plied Fleur with wine."

"She thought that was the worst wine she'd ever tasted," Bill chuckled, remembering.

"Yes, I remember," Catriona replied dryly. "She mentioned it more than once."

"She's French."

Catriona rolled her eyes. "Well, despite her terrible manners, she got plenty drunk, and we played all my favorite Muggle board games."

"And…."

"And...Fleur was funny and smart and completely rude about the wine, but still somehow charming."

"And the two of you murdered Dougal and I at Monopoly," Bill remembered, leaning his head against the top of hers.

Catriona laughed. "We did. Dougal always said that my Slytherin side came out when I played Monopoly."

"Hmph, this from a man who cheated at Exploding Snap."

"You knew about that?" She sat up to look at Bill with a wide grin.

"We all knew about it, we just couldn't figure out how he did it."

"I don't know either, he never told me." A stricken look came over her face.

"Hey," Bill said. He wrapped his arms around Catriona's trembling shoulders.

Catriona's hands clutched his shirt, balling it into her fists. "Oh, Merlin, who's going to teach Campbell?" she cried, and took two stuttering breaths. "Dougal would want him to know. Why didn't he make sure that I knew?"

She crumpled into harsh sobs. The guilt that surged up from Bill's belly was overpowered by the weight of the grief that pierced his heart. He felt such sorrow for his lost friend, but not this strongly, not since the night Dougal died.

"We talked about it, Dougal and I," Catriona said between gasping breaths. "We made plans in case the worst happened and he-he died: wills, savings, insurance policies, godfather. It's why I stayed on at hospital part time after Campbell was born, in case I had to become the sole provider."

Catriona sat back and wiped at her eyes raggedly with her fingers. "And then something stupid, something small happens, and I'm so angry. At him, at myself, because why didn't we think of this?"

Tears pricked the back of Bill's eyes, his throat ached. "It's—Don't be angry with Dougal, it's me. It's my fault, you should be angry with me."

There. He'd said it. The memory of Dougal's blood on Bill's hands after the battle surged to the front of his mind. The tears that were threatening spilled over. He pulled his knees up, locking his arms around them and leaning his head against the tops of his hands. He'd given voice to his deepest sorrow: that his actions had killed two of his closest, dearest friends. It pained him in the darkest parts of the night when the nightmares came, and most of all, during the full moon when he was already vulnerable from the physical pain.

"If I had it to do all over again," he said, squeezing his eyes shut against the hot tears, "I would have never asked Dougal to join the Order. Nor Fergus. Merlin knows, you couldn't have one without the other. Then none of this would have happened…if I hadn't…."

"Bill."

Catriona's voice was soft, her fingers on his injured hand light.

"Listen to me. What happened was not your fault."

Bill snorted in disgust. "How can you say that? I'm the one who recruited them. They would have never been in Little Helga that night if it hadn't been for me."

"With or without the Order, Dougal would have found a way to fight You-Know-Who, Fergus right by his side. It had been on his mind for a long time, long before you approached him." Patiently, Catriona wrapped her fingers around Bill's hand and gave it a squeeze. "You know Dougal, he was never one to ignore uncomfortable truths, and that included the return of You-Know-Who. He'd been ready to fight for a long time."

"What could he have done without the Order?"

"Do you think you are the only one with access to Dumbledore or McGonagall? If you hadn't asked, Dougal would have found a way. You, of all people, should know how stubborn he was."

"But you were pregnant…."

"And that just strengthened his resolve," Catriona argued. "Bill, do you know what was in the breast pocket of Dougal's robes when he was killed?"

Suddenly, Catriona pulled her hand out of his. Bill looked up. From her own pocket she pulled a photograph. She took a moment to glance at it before pressing it into Bill's hand. With a heavy heart, he looked at it. He knew this picture. It was of Catriona and Campbell. He had seen it the night of the battle, Dougal had shown it to Bill's mum.

"That's a copy," Catriona said, nodding at the picture. "McGonagall gave me the original when the Order brought their bodies home. She said that your mum had found it when she prepared his body. It had the date written across the back and Dougal's blood on it."

Catriona's voice broke. Bill felt like he'd been punched in the gut.

"I buried him with the original," Catriona said, her voice tight. "I tucked it into his breast pocket, over his heart." She touched her own heart. "But don't you see? Dougal had his own reasons to fight You-Know-Who, and he was willing to die for them."

"Oh, Merlin, I miss him," Bill whispered.

Catriona took the photo back and smoothed her thumb over it. "So do I, so much. Lately, I've missed the weight of him. The weight of him in our bed, the weight of his hand on my thigh, the weight of his body on top of mine." She squeezed her eyes shut, her cheeks flaring with color. "Sorry, I just don't know who else I could say that to."

"Well, I found the two of you in enough broom cupboards, you needn't be embarrassed."

"True," Catriona said with a gurgling laugh. She wiped at her eyes. "I think you are the only other man in the world to see me topless."

It was Bill's turn to blush. "Merlin, Catriona…."

"I've had enough crying to last me a lifetime, Bill. I promised Dougal I would keep living, that I would show our son what it meant to be strong. I lingered too long at Red's Wood because it felt like I was close to him by being near the family that he loved, in the place that he loved. Now, I have to go into hiding to keep our son safe, but when all is said and done—no matter how this war turns out—I need to start living my life again, and I need to do what's best for Campbell."

Bill was quiet, attentive. He could sense that she was about to ask him something important, and he would do it. No matter what she said about Dougal having his own reasons to fight and die, Bill did not feel wholly absolved of the guilt. He'd still been the one to recruit the Wood brothers to the Order of the Phoenix. He'd been the one to survive the Battle of Little Helga when Dougal and Fergus were both gone.

"Dougal and I put as much money as we could in savings, just in case," Catriona explained. "We'd been planning to buy a house before the Battle of the Ministry, but changed our minds after he joined the Order. So, there's that money and what we could set aside, plus his life insurance policy. Campbell, as well as Alex, was the beneficiary of Fergus' policy. I have enough to pay whatever expenses we incur at Fleur's family's home."

Bill brushed aside her concerns with a flick of his hand. "You needn't worry about that. Fleur's contacts have already begun fund raising efforts to support the refugees."

"Then, I have enough to start anew, but I need to be in control of my funds," Catriona stated matter-of-factly. "If Harry Potter fails, if Britain falls, I will take Campbell to America."

"Speak to my father-in-law about opening an account for you at La Banque de Saint-Jérôme. I can start funneling your money into the account, but slowly, as to avoid suspicion."

"Thank you, Bill," she whispered, taking both of his hands in hers.

"I would do anything for you. I owe Dougal that much."

"You owe Dougal nothing."

"Then I owe you."

Catriona shook her head, a sad smile on her face. She grasped his face in her hands and leaned forward to press a kiss into his forehead. "You're a good man, Bill Weasley. If you want to repay me, then make that young woman you tricked into marrying you happy."

"Every day, I promise," he swore.

"Good, then we're even."

oOo

Bill collapsed into bed after carrying Campbell up for Catriona. They had stayed up much too late for the early morning they had to face. He flung his arm over his eyes, thinking about all that Catriona had said to him about Dougal, about Dougal's own choices. He felt a shift on the mattress, and Fleur snuggled into him.

"I missed you, mon Bill," she slurred sleepily.

A tiny bit of peace settled over Bill, a smile touching his lips.