A/N: So... This is what happens when I let me stray into reading fanfics instead of writing. I stop posting for half a year. If I say sorry, will you believe me?

And thanks for the alerts and favourites! It always makes me smile. Though... something even better is reviews or PM's. It is those that makes me want to post things here. So I know you haven't abandoned me, please review. Now, on to the disclaimer:

Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize. Except for the timeline, which I suspect is incorrect.


XI: Bill

Bill Weasley had six younger siblings. He was a man now, an adult; he was twenty-six years old. He had a full-time paying job at Gringotts, working nine to six. He was newly married to a beautiful woman who was six years younger than him. He had six scratches across his face, a testimony of his encounter with Fenrir Greyback. And in six months, his wife would give birth to his first child.

It had been March when they found out. Late March. Now, it was late April in Shell Cottage, and his and Fleur's house hadn't been this crowded since they first moved there, with Weasley's all over the place, trying to help. True, it had been even worse with Ollivander there as well. And the small party they had had yesterday to honour little Teddy Lupin had made the place seem more packed than it was. But, with his youngest brother and the rest of the trio, and Dean Thomas and the young girl Lovegood, plus a goblin, in the house, it was hard to find any time for him and Fleur alone. And they needed that desperately.

He didn't blame anyone, of course. It was not their fault. But he and Fleur… they needed to decide what they were going to do now. Needed to decide names for the baby. Needed to decide how or even if they were going to fight when they were needed on the field. Needed to make the spare bedroom to their child's bedroom. Needed to decide who would be Godfather or Godmother. Needed to think.

But suddenly, his brother, Harry and Hermione disappeared with the goblin to somewhere. And the place became too quiet instead, even with Thomas and the Lovegood-girl there, and couldn't concentrate. He didn't dare. Instead, he calmed Fleur down as much as he could – we knew they would go soon, love, they can't hide forever… yes, of course they'll be all right… they've done this before… and soon everything will calm down a bit, and we can have some time of our own – with lies neither of them believed, and paced. He worried for his family. For his mother, father, brothers and – oh God – sister who wasn't even a legal adult yet. For his wife. For his unborn child. Six months lack of life, and already the centre of his life.

Then came the call. The call for help, because all help is needed, and we'll lose without help, come to Hogwarts as soon as you hear this, we are going to fight. And he kissed a still yelling, still crying Fleur, please, love, stay safe, I couldn't concentrate with you there, for our child, Fleur, please just listen, and left, his now (almost) stony and cold heart fearing that he was right. How could I concentrate with almost all my family there? What if I turned around to see one of them dead, what would I do? And what if the next death would be my fault?

And still, he left. Once, before he had turned twenty-six, before he had married a woman six years younger than him, who now carried his child, six months lack of life, Bill had been a Gryffindor.


A/N: Please let me know what you think! Oh, and there's a poll up on my author's page (click on my name, you'll find it) about which characters you want to read about here. Go check!