November 12th
1995
Fleur checked her reflection before hurrying to answer the door of her flat. Bill Weasley stood before her, nicely dressed, his bright red hair in its usual ponytail. He even wore his fang earring. Fleur beamed.
"You look beautiful," Bill said, offering her a small bouquet of flowers.
"Merci," said Fleur, smelling them. She looked up at Bill through her eyelashes, feeling her veela charm working itself into the air around her. Please, she thought…please, Bill…don't feel it…
"Shall we?" Bill asked, offering his arm. Fleur set down her flowers, breathing an imperceptible sigh of relief. He really was immune.
November 12th
1996
"Bill," Fleur said, reaching across the table to touch his hand.
Bill looked up from the paper and smiled. "What, pretty girl?"
"I was theenking," she said slowly. "Per'aps we should not 'ave our 'oneymoon right after ze wedding."
"Why not?" he asked, frowning.
Fleur shrugged. "We weel 'ave Shell Cottage to ourselves by zen, what is ze point in going abroad?"
"Fleur," Bill said, surprised. "I thought you wanted to go to Egypt? If this is about the money, I—"
"No," she told him gently. "I just—I worry zat…if we go away…what weel we come back to?"
November 12th
1997
"Bill?" Fleur sat up, gazing around the bedroom. Bill wasn't beside her. She frowned, looking to the window. Her stomach dropped—the moon was full. How could she have forgotten?
Quickly, she put on her dressing gown and slippers, hurrying downstairs and out the front door. Bill was sitting on the garden wall, hunched over with his face in his hands, turned towards the moon.
Fleur sighed. She removed her dressing gown, though it was very cold, and draped it over his shoulders. Then she sat down beside him, watching helplessly as tears of pain poured down Bill's scarred face.
November 12th
1998
The bell on the shop door dinged.
"We're closed!" George glanced up from the countertop he was cleaning. "Oh—what's up, Bill?" he asked tiredly. "Hi, Fleur."
"Hey, George. Can I get some Skiving Snackboxes? Can't go into work next week. They're fumigating offices—goblin dander smells horrible," Bill said.
"I make 'im sleep outside," Fleur laughed.
George was surprised. "Okay. Er—third aisle on the left."
"Thanks," Bill said, hurrying off.
George frowned. "Y'know, you're the only ones who haven't cornered me yet," he called.
Fleur frowned, looking politely confused.
"Don't know what you mean, Georgie-boy," Bill called back.
November 12th
1999
"Je suis enceinte, Bill," Fleur said softly, gazing up at him with a smile on her face.
Bill gaped at her. "On-sont," he repeated. "Th-that m-m-means—"
Fleur nodded slowly and took Bill's hand, moving it to rest on her stomach.
Fleur had learned early on that her veela charm did absolutely nothing to send Bill Weasley into a state of speechless shock; it was one of the things she loved most about him. That day in November, however, she found out that babies—specifically, their babies, did and always would shoot him over the moon on a Firebolt II.
November 12th
2000
Fleur, carrying baby Victoire, came hurrying downstairs the door opened. "Bill—what's 'appened? Is she all right? You did not say you were coming back so soon—"
Bill sighed heavily, and the bottom of Fleur's stomach crashed to the floor. They'd gotten an urgent method from Arthur, begging Bill to come to St. Mungo's right away; Molly was horribly sick. Fleur had been beside herself.
Bill took hold of Fleur's shoulders. "She's got dragon pox, Fleur. Dad's sitting with her now, but—she—she's bad."
Victoire started to cry as Fleur sank, weak-kneed, onto the stairs.
"No," she whispered.
November 12th
2004
"Dom, beauty, you've got to sleep," Bill said, bouncing his two-year-old daughter. "Come on, baby…"
Dominique frowned. "Wan' Mumma."
"Mum's with Louis, Dom," Bill said. "Louis is sick, he needs Mum right now."
"Bill!"
Bill sighed and put Dominique down in her cot. "Stay here, Dom," he said firmly. "I'll be back."
Bill hurried down the hall to his and Fleur's room. Fleur looked almost beside herself as she cradled a bawling Louis. Victoire was sitting in the corner, crying at her mother's distress.
"Okay," Bill said, scooping her up. "Come on, princess, let's go see Dominique."
Fleur smiled gratefully.
November 12th
2013
"Bon soir, Lily," Fleur said, tucking her six-year-old niece tightly into Victoire's bed and kissing her.
"Night, Aunt Fleur," Lily chirped. She loved it when Uncle Bill and Aunt Fleur babysat—which, lately, had been fairly frequent. Fleur got up and turned out the lights, walking down the hall to hers and Bill's room, where she sat down on the bed beside him.
"She asleep?" Bill asked. Fleur nodded, folding her arms and leaning back against the headboard. Bill looked sideways at her. "What's wrong?"
Fleur's chin trembled. "I miss my girls," she wailed.
Bill laughed and hugged her close.
November 12th
2020
Fleur rubbed her wrist, turning a page in her book. She'd managed to break it that afternoon while pulling in laundry.
"That break won't get better by tomorrow if you don't stop handling it," Bill said, taking her splinted arm and kissing her fingers. "Not that I don't love finally having a good reason to make you sit down and relax with me."
Fleur smiled. "It's unusual zat it took zis long for me to break a bone, no?"
Bill shrugged. "I grew up with six siblings. No broken bones in the house usually meant something else was horribly wrong."
November 12th
2037
Bill held two-and-a-half-year-old Dora on his lap at the breakfast table, sending brightly colored confetti into the air with his wand, to the baby's giggles.
"Teddy and Victoire weel never let us babysit again. You spoil 'er," said Fleur, smiling as she walked in. Dora giggled again, stuffing her fingers in her mouth. Her hair turned pink.
Bill lifted his eyebrows, put down his wand, and turned Dora to face Fleur. "Dora," he said. "What do we say to Mamie? What do we say?"
Dora held out two chubby fists, beaming. "Bon-juh, bon-juh!"
Fleur threw her head back and laughed.
Sorry about the bad link! I had a bit of a blonde moment...