Hello, 'n all that. :flees:
Chapter Twenty-One: Talk and Friends.
In the end, it was all rather anticlimactic. Bill was called in to see his father and his mother hurried after him, shooting Fleur an odd look. Fleur had the distinct impression that that the woman didn't like her. Well, that was fine. She didn't like her, either.
They talked later and decided that it would be best to spend Christmas with their respective families. Bill went back to work and watched after his father, fearing that whatever had attacked him would come back to finish the job. It never did, of course. Fleur secretly thought that nothing would dare try anything while her Bill was there.
Fleur's Christmas consisted mostly of consoling Gabrielle in place of her parents. She found herself ready to have her father's head on a platter by the end of the holidays. Stupid man. He could at least try to act like he wasn't acting like a five year-old, couldn't he?
Eventually, Fleur could extend her vacation no longer. She felt badly about leaving the still sulking Gabrielle, but Jinxie assured her that Gabrielle would be back to normal once she had lessons to whinge about again. (She promptly poured cleaning fluid into her eyes for her forwardness.)
So it was on the night of December the twenty-ninth that Fleur and Gabrielle were lounging around the roaring fire in their father's study. Fleur planned to leave the following day and was attempting to coax Gabrielle out of the sulks. It wasn't working. Gabrielle was lying on her stomach on a soft, blue rug, watching her enchanted wooden animals march about the room with sleepy interest. She hadn't talked in nearly twenty minutes.
Pushing an errant wooden animal off her book, Fleur peered over the edge of the massive desk. "Gabrielle? Are you even awake, little one?"
There was a noncommittal sigh.
Fleur shook her head with loving exasperation and curled back up in the high-backed chair, staring into the fire, enjoying the sleepy, comfortable feeling that seemed to permeate the room.
Jinxie cleared her throat nervously from the cracked-open door. She was twisting the edge of her hand-towel and hopping from foot to foot.
Fleur twisted her head around to look at the House elf. "What has papa done now, Jinxie?" she asked in resigned tones.
"It… it isn't being the master, mistress Fleur," Jinxie stammered. She seemed to be trying to dust off the door handle with her towel. "There is someone to visit mistress Fleur."
"Visit? Who?" Fleur sat up and straightened her rumpled robes.
Jinxie glanced at Gabrielle and made frantic gestures towards the hall. Fleur rose an eyebrow at the little creature's antics, but got up and followed her out.
She stopped mid step and stared at the elderly man standing in their hallway for a few seconds before regaining her dignity. "Professor," she said quickly, tilting her head to him. "What an… unusual surprise." She immediately regretted saying it. But what was she supposed to say?
Albus Dumbledore dipped his head in return, gazing at her with oddly soft blue eyes. "I am sorry for not calling ahead, Miss Delacour," he said warmly, "but I had not planned on this stop until a few minutes ago."
Fleur gestured to the dinning room and offered him a chair. He sat down. She did not.
"I wonder 'ow I might 'elp you? You have come a long way…" Fleur began, puzzled.
"It is not such a great distance as all that. I enjoy visiting Madame Maxime on occasion… in her school instead of mine. Her insight is valuable and her conversation a rare joy." He gave an odd hand gesture and smiled warmly at her. "I decided, on the advice of members of my staff, to pay you a very short visit on my way to Beauxbatons."
"Why is this, sir?" Fleur asked, steadying herself with a palm pressed against the wall. Although part of her warned that his words should put her on the defensive, there was something disarming about the old gentleman.
"I understand you have… become involved with a certain organization of mine through a Mr. Weasley," he said simply. "I was quite charmed to have you find your way to us. Olymph has always spoken highly of you."
Fleur smiled at this, suddenly missing the warm, steady presence of her old teacher. "You honor me," she said quietly.
"Not quite, I think, as much as you deserve," said solemnly. "I had thought to leave you be after the… events of the Tournament. It seems things were meant to go otherwise."
"Yes," Fleur whispered half to herself, not trusting herself to speak. Perhaps she would never be able to think of last year without feeling this way. She couldn't help but feel a little angry that the Professors had thought her so fragile.
Dumbledore cleared his throat and straightened in his chair. "It is quite a dangerous thing young Mr. Weasley… and now you are involved in," he said, glancing at her curiously.
"Yes, sir," she said carefully, feeling herself flush. "But I do not care."
Dumbledore looked at her over his half-spectacles, his eyes twinkling in a decidedly amused manner. "I do suppose not." He rose and she followed. "I do, however, see the wisdom in having someone you trust with you at all times. Yes, I think you and Mr. Weasley will work quite well together."
He left as quickly and silently as he had come, saying that he was expected shortly at the offices of Beauxbatons and Fleur had Jinxie take Gabrielle up to bed, kissing her forehead gently as she passed. She was not quite sure the last few minutes had happened at all.
She paused in the cheerily-lit study, thinking. Well. That was… interesting.
The leader of the Order of the Phoenix was a very strange man, she decided. Strange, but very great indeed.
It had been a strange Christmas. Bill had been either holed up working or visiting his family… or talking with the Goblins and trying to gage their furtive alliances; or, most unpleasantly, keeping a sharp eye on their possible enemy operative. It made for very stressful times.
But on the morning of the thirtieth of December, things took an unexpected turn for the worst.
Bill had gotten to the bank early and was flipping idly through the reports that had piled up in his absence, chuckling at the more bizarre and enjoying the peaceful (if cold) silence. The Goblins and security trolls were there as always… but without any customers they kept things down to a dull roar.
Hearing a noise, he'd looked up. And there, in the doorway, stood the last person he'd expected to see (with the rather glaring exception of the Dark Lord wearing a tea cozy…). The figure's overtly puffed-up stance was easily visible in the well-lit corridor.
"Can I help you?" he asked a little coldly, just as if the figure was merely that annoying secretary that irritated Fleur so. What else could he say? Dammit… what am I supposed to do with him?
His brother detached himself from the shadows, looking distinctly nervous. "I just wanted to ask you about… about dad… and mum… I wanted to know how they were doing."
"You couldn't have gone and asked yourself," Bill snapped, exasperated. "Dad could have died, you great big git, and you wouldn't have been there. Have you any idea how much you've upset mum over this?"
"I'm sorry about mum," said Percy, his voice straying back into "pompous ministry official" registers. "I never meant to hurt her feelings. But there comes a time in every man's life…"
Bill said, softly, warningly, "Percy". There were some things that shouldn't be used in serious discussion. His brother had been reading too many instructionary textbooks.
"Do you have any idea how much he humiliated me?" Percy's voice wavered just the tiniest bit, cracking in a way that took Bill aback.
Bill shook his head. "No. But I still can't see how it could be bad enough that you refused to even visit mum when you heard that dad had been hurt." He held up a hand to forestall his brother's next words. "Don't, all right? I'll tell mum you were concerned. Dad's fine. I'm sure you have places to be."
Percy had gotten over his vulnerability and his shoulders had been drawn back proudly. "Well. Yes… I'm happy that father has sufficiently recovered. I really must be getting back to work now." He walked out, his legs stiff and his mouth set in a firm line that belied his self-assured tone.
When he was out of sight, Bill buried his face in his hands, feeling like he just done a very stupid thing. Now Percy would think the whole family was against him. Although Bill was angry with Percy, he wanted him to come back. If only to make his mother happy again.
"I zought you were not speaking to the one with glasses," Fleur asked curiously from the doorway.
Bill got up. "You're back." He crossed the room and hugged her quickly, letting her toes skim the ground.
Fleur smiled in her sly way. "Zat I am. And you," she scolded, "are at ze work far too early."
"I wanted to get a head start,'" Bill admitted, sitting on the edge of his desk. "How was Christmas."
He received a look.
"That bad." Bill laughed. "I'm sorry. If it helps, we had to deal with the antics of the one with glasses." Pointing out the door, he grimaced.
"Your Professor Dumbledore came to see us," Fleur said, her brows drawing together artfully. "He is a most strange man. I did not notice quite 'ow strange at the Tournament."
Bill raised his eyebrows, but was interrupted by Bladvak's gravely voice. The little Goblin came in the door, full of obvious pleasure at having his employee back and eager to drop off certain paperwork. He talked at an almost dizzying speed.
"The monthly reports are…" Bladvak caught sight of Fleur and blinked rapidly. "Dear me. Whatever are you doing in here?" he asked curiously.
"I was just welcoming Mr. Weasley back," Fleur said in dignified tones.
"Well. Yes." Bladvak seemed to forget she was even there.
Fleur swept out, looking slightly flushed. Bill smiled a bit and turned his attention to his employer. It was going to be a long day.
And it was.
Months passed, bringing with them, among other things, disturbing news of the mass Azkaban breakout and some of the worst nights of Fleur's life.
It was the combined fear for both Bill and herself that kept her awake at night. She slept with her wand now, keeping it close at her side instead of on her nightstand. Bill had tried to lighten her mood… joking that she would blow her fingers off. That earned him a glass of wine over the head and he did not mention it again.
One particularly trying night, Fleur was lying in her bed, pent-up energy tensing her muscles. She felt very much like hexing something… or someone.
Little did she know, miles away, in a tall, creaking house known as the Burrow, a woman she would never suspect of worry was pacing the floor of her bedroom. Waiting. Waiting for her husband to come home.
Bill was due… had been due… to check in with her one minute past (as he had been doing since his mother and father had moved back into their own house, far from London).
Just as she was about to get up, she heard the door wards shudder slightly... a mild curse…he'd forgotten the proper sequence… then the creak of the door opening quietly.
Fleur thought darkly that, on the off chance that a Death Eater had entered her flat, he would suffer for interuppting her non-existant sleep.
Someone entered the bedroom and sighed softly. "I can feel you wanting to curse me from here. "Hey." Bill bent over the bed and brushed at her cheek. "What are you doing up?"
"Thinking," Fleur said carefully.
"About what?" The bed shifted slightly as he sat on its edge.
She rolled over to look at him. He was only barely visible in the darkness. "About 'ow much I would like to find zose Death Eaters and… make them stop," she finished, shrugging. "Don't you ever become tired of zem?"
"Tired?" He laughed quietly, then his voice lowered. "Every day." The bed creaked as he leaned on his elbow, his fang earring a vague shadow dangling over his shoulder.
"Zen why does the Order not seek zem out themselves?" Fleur asked hotly, sitting up.
"It's like a chess game, Fleur," Bill said, slowly, sounding tired. "We sneak around, they sneak around… we move secretly, they move secretly, trying to figure out what each other is going to do next without giving ourselves away. First one to take a big leap either wins…" he paused "or loses… everything. We aren't quite ready to drop the clandestine act just yet."
Fleur snorted, folding her arms. "Zey are cowards. Filthy cowards."
"Oh, I can think of worse labels than that," Bill said dryly. "Ones that I shall happily call them if I ever meet one face to face in a real fight." He rested his head on the headboard. "Whenever that is."
"'Opefully not until I am with you. You are too… honorable to fight men, Bill. You must be… how do you say this… crafty." She bared her teeth in a fierce smile, brushing her hair off her shoulder.
Bill chuckled, a real laugh this time. "I'll bet." He leaned over and kissed the corner of her mouth. "Get some sleep, oh crafty one."
Fleur yawned in spite of herself. "Of course. And you must go eat. Do not break anything and come back when you are done." She settled back against her pillows, finally feeling sated enough to sleep.
"Yes, ma'am," Bill laughed, still sounding tired. Tired, but not quite, perhaps, as grey.
She was asleep by the time he came back in. He had tested the wards around the flat, carefully making sure there were no loopholes. There weren't. Fleur was nothing if not confident in the nasty curses department.
"Goodnight," he murmured to her sleeping form, kissing her forehead. Eventually, he wandered out into the living room and fell into an uneasy sleep himself.
Bill wasn't on duty when the next move of the chess game came, nearly four months later. None of the Weasleys were. By the time they were able to respond, it was too late and Bill was once again visiting family members in the hospital wing. Only this time, not everyone had come out all right. Sirius Black was dead.
Next time, he wondered, would it be one of his siblings that died? His parents?
The best thing to do, the only thing to do now was to live every day as if it was the last one. Because now… it just might be.
I hoppe Dumbledore and Percy weren'ttoo OOC. :worried: I just wanted them in the story because I love them both and they had to make cameos before I'd finished.
One more chapter, peeps. I think you'll like it.
(Oh, and sorry for the time warp at the end. My muse um, ran away with me there.)