With a small pop, both Bill and Fleur arrived On outside the Burrow—in the same spot he'd always Apparated onto—still holding hands from their Apparation moments before. It was a beautifully clear summer evening with the pink sky now slowly showing signs of purple as the sun disappeared in the distance. Somewhere, a bird was cawing.
He gestured with his hand toward the house just a short distance away from where they stood. The Burrow in all of it's wild, haphazard glory.
"So this is where I live."
Fleur stared up at it and seemed to be taking it all in. He knew it could be quite the sight the first time someone got a good look at it, so it was best to just let her do that. Questions and explanations would usually follow.
It was Wednesday evening—one that he'd taken off from work in order to have a real and proper night off with Fleur. For once, there was no Order meeting he had to plan around, no work he had to get through, no break he had to work a date into. He'd decided to take a day to himself—catch up on sleep, relax, finish the unpacking he still hadn't got to a month ago, and get some errands done while he waited for Fleur to finish her day.
He still wasn't entirely sure how he'd come out the other end of her finding out about his Order business in good standing with her, but somehow he had. It was clear she still had questions, that much he could tell, but she was good about understanding he couldn't possibly answer all of them. Not now; not yet. Perhaps one day, but not yet.
He sensed that she was trying to work things out on her own, as if it were a puzzle that needed solving, but when they were together he tried his hardest to keep the conversation from drifting anywhere near the Order or Voldemort or anything in between. Luckily, things were mostly quiet as of late, so it allowed him the luxury to do just that—ignore the outside world. Because when he was with her, all he wanted was to be normal—to laugh and talk and forget about the world outside of them. He was starting to find the world that just the two of them occupied was becoming his favorite place to be.
So he was making the effort. Taking an evening off here and there to be completely present with her. A thank you of sorts for being so cool and understanding about everything; not just the Order stuff, but also him working so much in general. His mad schedule, his vampire hours, his swinging by her flat in the middle of the night just so they could get a little extra time together. For a girl who on first impression seemed rather posh to the point of expecting things a certain way, she truly did roll with things tremendously well. He was fairly certain that was his favorite thing about her. She was always exceeding his expectations.
"Zis is where you grew up?" she asked, her neck craned up and her eyes fixed on the very top of the Burrow.
"It is," he said, glancing up at the house. "The house was much smaller originally, but my parents have added their own additions over the years. They're very hands-on when it comes to that sort of thing, hence the shape and style." He shrugged. "It's a bit eclectic, but it's home."
She nodded, still silently observing everything.
Their plan for the evening had been to grab dinner—at a place that was not the Leaky Cauldron—which they had; instead visiting at a little French restaurant that Fleur had discovered in Muggle London at some point during her stay. She claimed had the most authentic food that she'd found yet since moving here, and he had rather enjoyed watching her in her element. Speaking French with the servers; offering translations for him; explaining to him what certain dishes were and which ones he might like. It had been a nice night and they'd had fun. She'd even finally—finally—let him buy her dinner.
They didn't stay for dessert, instead deciding to do takeaway, which brought them where they were now—just outside the Burrow. He'd promised her the day before to show her his place after she'd asked him about where he lived. It had been something he'd been putting it off because...he lived in his parents' house.
Living in his childhood bedroom wasn't exactly something he showed off to people, but seeing as he now had plans for Fleur to become a regular fixture in his life, it was time she saw his life behind the curtain. If she didn't run at the idea of him belonging to the Order and his inability to talk about it, he felt pretty confident it was going to take quite a bit to scare her off.
She looked away from the top of the Burrow and let her eyes travel down to the front door. Bill saw then that some of the chickens had escaped their pen and were pecking around near the front of the house. This was a daily occurrence, but Fleur seemed surprised by their presence.
"You 'ave chickens."
"We do," he said, throwing her a funny smile. "I take it you don't?"
She shook her head, and while she seemed surprised by everything, she didn't seem put off. She actually looked to be absorbing it all in with a sort of strange curiosity about her.
"It's country living," he offered, squeezing her hand and pulling her toward the house. "You get used to it. Come on. I'll show you around."
He walked her inside through the kitchen door, and he could see she was taking everything in at a mile a minute. People always tended to do that when he brought them by the house, seeing as there was always something to see. The house was a hodgepodge of objects and knick-knacks that were all thrown together with very little concern for style—more for comfort and practicality-which some people could be thrown for. He had a feeling given Fleur's meticulous decorating in her little flat that she might be one of those people.
"Here, I'll get that," Bill said, taking the bag Fleur was holding which contained their tart—Fleur's favorite, apparently—that they had planned to have later. She handed it over readily, still busily looking around the room.
"You 'ad nine people living 'ere at one time?" she asked.
He nodded, pulling the tart out and placing it on display on the table. "It can get a bit crowded, but we've always made do." He threw her a lazy smile. "Want to see the rest?"
She nodded a little absently, her gaze already through the doorway onto the next room.
The ground floor was fairly easy to show off, seeing as it really was only the kitchen and the sitting room. He did give her a quick looked at the back garden, pointing out the orchard just beyond the garden. He led her back in and up the stairs, stopping on the first floor since he didn't need to go much further up.
"My room's here," Bill said, once they reached the top of the first set of stairs, pointing down to the door on the right. "This other door," he added, pointing to the door on the left, "is my sister's." He then pointed straight up toward the ceiling. "There are more floors above us where everyone else lives."
She grinned a little and she looked up the stairwell leading to the next landing. "How many floors do you 'ave to climb to use ze toilet?"
"Two," he said as he led her toward his room. "It's up on the third, which is not fun in the middle of the night. I still get phantom pains in my calves from the amount of times I sleepily tripped on a stair and hit one."
She laughed as he held the door open for her to pass into his room. Just as she had with every other room, she stopped to slowly take in everything there was to see. There wasn't much—his bed, a pair of dressers, a couple of boxes that he'd left stacked in the vacant spot where Charlie's bed had been. He'd only that morning moved all of Charlie's stuff up into the attic to allow him more space, so the room did still look a bit lopsided. He hadn't quite spread the rest of his things out.
She had stopped to observe a Quidditch poster of Charlie's that Bill hadn't got around to taking down yet before she walked over and looked out his window. Below was the back garden and much better view of the greenery that stretched out as far as one could see. If he took her up to Ron's room at the top of the house, she'd really get a good look at things.
He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tightly. Something about the way the last of the day's sunlight caught her made her look extra beautiful in the moment—if that were even possible. Her hair smelled like flowers as he leaned down and gave her a quick kiss on her neck. Having her here, in his space with him, made him feel tremendously peaceful.
"You make me happy," he said into her neck.
She brought her arms up onto his and squeezed him back. She didn't speak, but she didn't have to. Even their silence spoke volumes. After a moment she started affectionately rubbing his arms while he proceeded to kiss her neck a few more times. She responded in turn by arching her back and leaning into him in a way that let him know she was keen for whatever this neck kissing was leading to. That was good because she'd mentioned once at dinner with a very sexy smile how she wasn't wearing underwear tonight and he'd had a hard time shaking that mental image ever since.
"'Ave you ever been wiz a girl in your child'ood bed before?" Fleur asked him with a giggle several minutes later, after he'd paused their snogging to pull her dress off while she was working him out of his jeans.
Even if he had, he knew better than to say that to a naked woman ready to let him touch her. But the truth was he actually hadn't. With the house as busy as it was, his siblings as nosy as they were, and Charlie basically living on top of him, he had always made the conscious choice to go elsewhere. Nice long walks out through the orchard had always been a good spot, but still not in the house. It apparently took him until his mid-twenties to get one inside these four walls.
"I haven't," he said, finally shaking off his trousers as the pair of them fell straight to the mattress with her underneath him. "You are the first."
She laughed, whether because she didn't believe it or because the way he was kissing her down the length of her body and onto her stomach tickled, he didn't know. He didn't really care either because in the next few moments he had every intention of turning that laughter in moans as he kissed his way down just a bit further.
They'd been at it for maybe ten minutes—he'd got her off and had been moments away from getting his as Fleur had just got on top—when the distant sound of a door opening and shutting from downstairs caught his attention. Ten second later and he probably would have missed it entirely, seeing as she had an impressive way of getting him completely lost in the moment.
She hadn't heard it and was still wiggling herself into position, but she reached up and halted her by grabbing her hips. She looked at him funny, as if wondering why he was stopping her, but he was listening carefully again. Had he imagined that?
"What iz wrong?" she asked a little breathlessly, sweeping her long hair out of her face.
"I thought I heard something," he said, now feeling as though he may actually be imagining it. He'd given it another ten seconds with no further noise, and one glance up at Fleur's curious expression and perfect body made him realize he'd already wasted enough time. He moved his hands off her hips and quickly said, "It was nothing. Keep going."
Death Eaters could come barging in here right now and murder them both where they were, and a part of Bill couldn't help but think at least he'd go out blissfully happy. As he closed his eyes and braced himself with every movement she made bringing him closer, he again distinctly heard an unfamiliar sound. This time it was distant voices. Footsteps walking around.
Fleur heard it too this time and stopped as if frozen. It would already be hard to find a more unpleasant experience than being on the bloody brink of coming—mere seconds away—and stopping dead. But now a new and far more worrisome feeling was sweeping over him.
"I 'eard voices,'' Fleur whispered. "Were you expecting...?"
"No," he said, sliding her off of him in an instantly regrettable way. He immediately reached for his jeans to retrieve his wand, standing then to pull them on.
"Where are you going?" she asked, sounding concerned as she pulled the bedsheet up around here. "Why do you 'ave your wand out?"
"Stay here."
"Why?" she asked. "Who do you zink it iz? Does zis 'ave to do wiz your secret zings?"
Bill didn't have an answer for that. Truth be told, given the state of the world and the Weasley name being closely associated with Harry Potter these days, it truly could be anyone. He'd been mostly kidding when he'd thought of Death Eaters earlier, but it really could be some of them searching for information on Harry. There was a reason his parents had retreated to the safety of Grimmauld Place with everyone else.
He moved toward the door wearing nothing more than his jeans. He glanced back at Fleur and saw her reaching for her own clothes to put back on. Perhaps he should tell her to be armed just in case. He didn't want to alarm her, but he didn't want her to be unprepared.
"Get your wand out to be safe," he said, reaching out to grab the door handle.
"Bill, what iz 'appening?" she said, having just pulled her dress over her head.
"I don't—" he'd begin to say, but he'd stopped when he heard the sound of voices coming up the stairs. They were male voices—two of them in conversation. He'd only just caught one of them saying, "It's here somewhere. We need to find it."
"Get your wand out," Bill said in a harsh whisper. "But don't leave this room unless you absolutely have to. Do you understand?"
"Bill!" she snapped back, though he'd pulled open the door before he could hear the rest of what she had to say. He'd stepped out into the corridor with his wand pointed directly at the stairs, ready to fire off a curse at the first sign of movement. He hesitated just long enough to catch the sight of two people—two identical people—having just stepped onto the first floor landing and rounding the stairs toward the second. Both of them turned to look at him.
"What in the bloody…?" Fred began to say, looking directly at Bill outstretched wand. "What are you doing?"
Bill immediately felt every bit of adrenaline that had just been pumping through his veins flush itself out. What the hell...? He lowered his wand.
"The better question is, what are you doing here?" George added, looking just as confused as Fred. "Aren't you supposed to be at work?"
"I took a night off," Bill muttered, rubbing his face before settling his gaze on his brothers. "What are you two doing here?"
"We live here," they said together, though George added, "Usually."
"Yes, but you're not supposed to be out and about and swinging by whenever you feel like it," Bill said. "Do mum and dad know you're here?"
"They're downstairs using the Floo," George said. "They wanted to talk to Charlie."
"Also, mum may have wanted to make sure you weren't wrecking the house," Fred added.
"Well, clearly it's in one piece," Bill said, gesturing around.
"We never doubted you," George said, faking a chipper tone before he turned to continue on up the stairs; presumably toward his room. Fred had dawdled for a moment, pointing to Bill while asking, "Were you asleep?"
"No."
He threw him a funny look before turning to follow after George. "I only assumed since you're wandering around without a shirt."
With that, he disappeared up the stairs after George. Bill watched him go and made sure he heard their footsteps above him before returning back to his room. By the looks of things, the house was going to be far more crowded than he had planned.
He slipped back into his room with a gentle knock and a quick, "It's only me," to find Fleur standing there with her wand down at her side. She was staring at him, clearly anticipating whatever explanation he was about to give.
"My brothers," he said. "Just my brothers."
"Who did you zink it was?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.
He shrugged. "Who knows? You know what I'm mixed up in. You have to be alert."
"Do you?" she asked, as if that was news to her. She didn't seem to be expecting a real answer before she sighed and then looked away. It seemed all of that had come as quite the surprise to her.
"Apparently, my parents and my twin brothers have stopped by," Bill said, tossing his wand onto his bed and walking over to where she was standing. He wrapped his arms around her. "So it looks like our quiet and private evening just got a bit crowded." He threw her an apologetic smile. "Sorry. I promise I don't plan on living with my parents forever."
It was her turn to shrug now as she leaned forward into his hug and rested her forehead on his shoulder. "I take it you probably need to go and visit wiz zem?"
"It would be a bit strange to run off now that I've been seen," he said, hugging her tighter. "But we shouldn't let this ruin our night. They hopefully won't stay too long. If you want to come down and say hello—"
Her head shot off his shoulder like a backfiring spell. She looked at him as if he were mad. "I am not meeting your parents like zis."
"Like what?" he asked, laughing at her panic. "I understand it's early. I understand we haven't even talked about what we are and the details yet, so it's definitely a big jump, but what other choice do we have? They're downstairs." He threw her a funny look, "What's your plan? Sit up here for the next hour and hide? Or were you planning on sneaking out?"
"Yes, I plan on sneaking out," she said matter-of-factly. "Bill, I'm not wearing any underwear. I'm not meeting your parents while not wearing any underwear!" She gestured to the bed. "I 'ave not even showered after you were inside of me. None of zat is appropriate for meeting your parents!"
"I mean, I'd probably leave the part about me being inside of you out of the introduction…"
"No." She shook her head. "Not today. I cannot meet your parents before we've even decided what we are. What would you even introduce me as? Ze girl you were just sleeping wiz upstairs?"
"No. The one I'm dating."
She made a face. "To zem, that iz not going to sound much different. Especially when I appear from upstairs not wearing any underwear!" She sighed. "If we're going to keep zis going, zen I want zis to make a good impression when I meet zem. Zat is important."
He let that last line sink in, rubbing his jawline absently as he decided that he might as well just say what they were both thinking. The way they kept talking about "keeping things up" and "making this relationship work" it was becoming the obvious elephant in the room. Things may be going faster than what he was used to, but he was actually fine with that. Fine enough that he had no qualms with her meeting his parents.
"How about I introduce you as my girlfriend?"
Just like that, her ever present, fiery nature softening in an instant. She even opened her mouth to say something, but closed it quickly and instead smiled. "Iz zat what you want?"
He nodded as pushed a piece of loose hair out of her face. "Why put off the inevitable? Unless you don't…?"
"No, I do," she said without hesitation, smiling even wider and she learned her head up to kiss him. He could feel her smiling on his lips as he pulled her closer and they let that moment linger for several extra seconds.
When she finally pulled away, she let her smile drop off back into that steely look full of purpose that he'd come to love so much lately. "Zat does not change ze fact that I am still not meeting your parents tonight. Not wizout a shower, not wizout a bra..."
He let out a playful sort of scoff, realizing then that her mind was made up and he wasn't changing it. If he were honest, it certainly was going to save him loads of questions he wasn't in the mood to answer—especially from his mother—so he didn't quite mind. He did wonder what exactly her plan was, seeing as charms were set up that you couldn't Apparate in or outside of the house.
"I'll go ahead and clear the way so that you can go out through the kitchen," Bill offered, looking down at the floor in search of his shirt. "My parents will be in the sitting room using the Floo and my brothers are upstairs, so you should be able to—"
Fleur had looked away from him then toward the door—her expression twisting into confusion. She'd just muttered a strange sounding, "What iz…?" before Bill swung around to see what it was that had caught her attention. As it turned out, a small, flesh colored string was now creeping under his door.
Those little shits…
"What…? Fleur began again, though Bill immediately put his finger to his lips to get her to stop talking. He found his shirt and pulled it on over his head before creeping his way toward the door with several silent steps. As soon as he'd reached it, he seized the end of the string with his hand and yanked on it as hard as he could.
From somewhere outside the door, he heard a fairly distant sounding, "Bugger, he found it."
Bill flung his door open; the other end of Fred and George's Extendable Ears still in his hand. He found both of his brothers down by the stairs, one sitting and one standing. They didn't even attempt to look innocent.
When Bill brandished the string for them to see, George feebly offered, "Oh, is that where that went?"
"What the fuck?" Bill said in barely above a whisper. "Give me one reason I shouldn't end you both right now?"
"We heard voices," Fred said, standing up and sounding a bit more confident that George had, but not much. "That meant you either had someone over or you're going mental and talking to yourself." He shrugged. "We were looking out for you. Making sure you're not cracking up. Stressful times, you know..."
Bill glared at them.
Fred looked at George, who had a very "the gig is up" look about him that made Fred sigh and mutter, "Alright fine. We heard you talking, then we heard a girl talking, and then we put the pieces together—"
"No, then you decided to be nosy gits."
"Well, obviously," George offered. "But we didn't hear anything. You found it too quickly."
Bill had been about to sarcastically lay into them for how much of a shame that was, but Fred had immediately switched gears and eagerly asked, "Who's the girl? The same one you went out with the other night or someone different?"
"For Bill's sake, you better hope it's the same one," George said with a snicker, "because I'm certain she can hear you. The walls are thin."
The walls were nothing if not terribly thin, but Bill had no time to comment on that because in the next moment the appearance of Fleur beside him took him by surprise. She'd appeared in the door frame with a smile and her arms crossed over her chest. With a casual glance in Fred and George's direction she said, "Ze walls are very zin."
Bill threw her a funny look, wondering what was going since she'd been so adamant on getting out undetected, but he didn't have time to dwell on that since the noise of one of the twins sharply inhaling air forced him to turn his attention back to them.
Gobsmacked was the only way to describe their reactions. Fred's jaw had practically hit the floor; George's eyes were bugging out of their sockets. Neither said a word. For the first time—maybe ever—they seemed stunned into silence. He wasn't entirely sure why...
He glanced back at Fleur, choosing to deal with the one who wasn't acting like a complete fool right now. "I thought you weren't ready to…?"
"Meet your parents," she said. "I meant zat. I do not mind brozers." She leaned against the door frame and smiled rather dazzling at them. "Bonjour."
They still didn't say anything; they just continued to stare. Fred almost looked as if he was trying not to laugh at something.
Bill found himself wishing he had something to throw at them to snap them out of it, but settled on quipping, "Who raised you?" before begrudgingly pointing to Fred for Fleur's benefit. "So the one on the left is Fred. The one on the right is George." He looked at his brothers. "Lads, this is Fleur."
"We know," they said, though not at the same time. George had only just spluttered the words out before adding, "But how do you know her?"
"And why is she in our house?" Fred asked, still looking as though he was trying to process this. "What is happening right now?"
"Long story short, we met at the bank," Bill said. "She works there now after having moved here from France. We started talking—"
"He's been 'elping me improve my English," she said, throwing him warm a smile and reaching out to rub his arm. "He iz so very 'elpful."
"I bet," Fred muttered, causing George to laugh.
"And," Bill said, ignoring his brothers, "we've been hanging out." He looked back at her and they both grinned a bit before he turned back to his brothers and let the smile slip off his face. "That being said, we're not really ready for 'meet the family' tonight since it's still so new, so you two are going to do me a favor."
"Are we?" asked George, his wits apparently starting to come back to him because he suddenly looked a bit challenged.
"You are," Bill said matter-of-factly. "You're going to go downstairs and make sure both mum and dad are in the sitting room so Fleur can leave through the kitchen. You're also not going to mention any of this tonight or else I show mum this—" He held up their Extendable Ears, "and tell her what you've been primarily using it for."
Both Fred and George's faces fell. They knew bloody well that if their mother found out that they'd been trying to spy on Order meetings—and who knew what else—that she would go absolutely berserk and confiscate the entire lot. She'd bin them all, along with who knew what else the two of them were always up to. While Bill didn't want it to come to that, he also knew that the only way to get through to Fred and George was to fight fire with fire.
"Fine," Fred said a little begrudgingly. "We can keep our mouths shut." He turned to George. "That's all we do now these days. Keep secrets."
George made a face to say he agreed, the two of them now trudging back down the stairs with the sound of one of them saying to the other, "I honestly would have been less surprised if You-Know-Who himself had walked out of that room."
Bill turned back to Fleur, who was smiling a little funny at him as she pulled herself off of the door frame. "Zey seem lovely."
"They better if they know what's good for them," he mumbled, asking her then if she was ready to go. When she nodded, he told her that he was hoping this visit with his parents wouldn't last too long; he could swing by her place when he was done and they could finish their evening.
"I'll bring the dessert we never got to," he offered, stepping out in front of her to go ahead and make sure his brothers were distracting his parents.
"Or finish ze ozer zings we did not get to finish," she said with a sexy smile as she leaned into a kiss.
"Oh, that's a given," he said, his lips barely escaping hers to speak.
After their extra long kiss goodbye, he took off down the stairs to make sure the coast was clear. The path to the kitchen was empty and unoccupied, and when he stepped forward and glanced into the sitting room, he heard voices belonging to his father and Charlie. He could just make out the back of his mother and one of the twins standing nearby.
He waved to Fleur to come along, and she did. He gave the kitchen a quick once over, noting it was empty before ushering her over toward the door. He pulled it open, threw her a quick smile as she passed and barely whispered, "See you in a bit."
She smiled back and stepped outside, disappearing nearly straight away and leaving him to feel rather annoyed that she'd had to leave in the first place. Even when he had the bloody house to himself, he still couldn't get a moment's peace.
He pulled his hair down and let it fall so that he could run his hands through it. He quickly tied it back up before wandering across the kitchen and into the sitting room. It was there he got his first proper look at both of his parents in front of the fireplace. His father was kneeling while his mother was standing beside him. He could hear Charlie's voice, though he was being blocked from view by their parents.
Across the room, George was swatting Fred—gesturing to Bill. It seemed his presence now indicated they were free to move about the house again and not stand guard. Without a word, they both now passed him and disappeared into the kitchen. Fred had thrown him a look that he took to mean, "We're even now," though Bill did nothing more than make a face at him. All of the movement and stirring apparently caused his mother to turn then and notice him standing there.
He obliged a smile. "Hey Mum."
"Bill," she said, stepping away from the fireplace with a flicker of concern on her face. "Your brothers mentioned you were upstairs. We heard footsteps."
He looked over his shoulder to where his brother had disappeared. "Did they mention anything else?"
"No!" called one of their voices from the kitchen.
"Just that you were home," she said, looking up into his face. "Are you feeling well? Why aren't you at work?"
His father had turned from the fireplace then to acknowledge him with a quick smile and a nod. Now that his mother had stepped away, Bill could also make out Charlie's head in the fire. The two locked eyes and Charlie called out, "Hey Billy."
"Hey Charlie," he said with a nod and a smile before looking back at his mother. "I'm fine. I took the night off. I've been busy and wanted a bit of time to myself."
Even with him saying that, she still reached up to feel his forehead just to check for herself. He knew he should have seen it coming, but moments such as this he felt an extremely strong pull to remind her that he was a grown man now.
She hummed after a moment and said, "Well, you don't feel hot."
"Because I'm not.'
"Bet you were plenty hot before we arrived," said one of the twins with his mouth full once they wandered back into the room and made to pass toward the sofa.
"And bothered," the other said under his breath.
"I'm fine," Bill reiterated, throwing both twins a look that said to shut it. His reaction flipped rather suddenly however when his eyes landed on what was in their hands. Both of them were eating a plateful of...tart.
"What are you doing?" he said.
"Nufin," Fred said with his mouth full and looking genuinely confused. "We swear."
"Where did you…?" He gestured to the tart. "Who said you could have that?"
Both boys looked down at their plates at the same time, though it was George who looked up and said, "Were you saving it for something?"
"Yes," he said, suddenly feeling as if he were fifteen again and incapable of having anything in this house that was truly his. "It's mine."
"I thought you were being hospitable and putting out a snack," Fred said, taking another bite.
Bill let his entire face rearrange itself into complete disbelief. "Why would I put out a snack for you in your own home?"
"Why would you have a tart lying around if it wasn't meant to be eaten?" George asked.
"It was meant to be eaten, but not by you!"
"Then by who?" Fred asked, suddenly smirking a little. "Who are you saving it for, Bill?"
For the love of...Bill closed his eyes. This is why he moved away. This is why he moved away. This is why he moved away. He could not do this anymore. He was twenty-four years old; he shouldn't have to.
He opened his eyes and took a deep breath, turning to find his mother had returned over to the fireplace to rejoin the chat with Charlie. Bill decided to do the same because at the rate the twins were going, he'd have them both cursed into the ground within minutes if he didn't walk away.
As he approached, Charlie stopped mid-sentence once Bill appeared at their father's other side. He was staring at him a bit tentatively. "You alright, Bill?"
"Sure am," he said in a tight lipped sort of way, forcing a smile at him.
He could already tell Charlie didn't believe that for a second, but he also knew Charlie wouldn't press the matter in front of their folks. He did grin a little before saying, "Alright then," before he returned to explaining about some sort of conversation he'd been having with a visiting Ministry official out at the Dragon Sanctuary. Apparently there was even more shuffling of positions occurring around the top levels to bring Ministry sycophants closer to Fudge. Percy had only been the beginning.
"I can't say I'm pleased with much of the changes," their father muttered. "But I'm not surprised by any of them. A load of miserable suck-ups all aiming to get ahead. They'll ignore the obvious to get even the slightest bit closer to power."
"Percy," coughed one of the twins, which was clearly what they were all thinking despite no one else saying it. It did cause their mother to turn and shoot them a silencing look as their father's jaw went a bit tight.
Bill rolled his eyes and Charlie muttered, "Which one of them thinks they're being funny right now?"
"My money's on Fred," Bill offered.
"It wasn't!" Fred argued, looking at George. The latter said nothing, but he was laughing to himself.
"Go figure," Charlie said, clearly unable to see George's guilty expression. "It's always Fred starting—"
"It wasn't me!" Fred said. "I'd own up to it. You know I would."
"I take it back," Bill said to Charlie. "George looks plenty guilty." He looked back at Fred. "Not that it changes the fact that you usually are the one starting—"
"Starting what?" Fred asked, though at this point their father had stood from his kneeling position with a tired expression.
"Enough!" said their mother rather firmly, watching as the room fell quiet. She clearly was in no mood for their usual round of bickering, but she really should be used to it by now.
"Arthur," she said, switching gears, "don't forget to grab the things you wanted to bring back with you." She turned back to Fred and George. "Did you both get what you came for?"
They nodded. "Sure did."
"What is it?" she asked, raising her eyebrows. "Because if it's more prank things. Or practical jokes—"
"Of course not, Mum," Fred said with a straight face. "You were quite clear that you didn't want us meddling with that—" He looked at George. "What did she call it?"
"Rubbish," George said.
"Right, 'rubbish'," Fred said. "Meddling with that 'rubbish' any longer. We wouldn't dream of it."
"Well, that's a load of tosh if I've ever heard some," Charlie muttered, earning him a very stealthy flip off from George that their mother didn't manage to catch. She did however seem to agree with Charlie; in the next moment she was very much demanding the twins turn out their pockets.
They did without complaint, which Bill already knew was a waste of time because if Fred and George were anything, it was ten steps ahead with their plans. They'd probably Transfigured what they needed into that box of Droobles's gum in Fred's hand, but he kept his mouth shut. The group of them may all go at it as brothers do, but he wasn't about to snitch about silly things.
Even if they did eat his bloody tart...
Their mother didn't seem convinced something wasn't up, but let it go for now as she set about the room now straightening out things that Bill must have moved at some point and time. She'd already refolded a knitted blanket, moved two chairs, and repositioned the throw pillows on the sofa.
"The house is much cleaner than I expected," his mother quipped happily. "I must be honest, I was a bit worried, dear. Just with how much I always had to ask you to pick up your room when you were younger. Glad to see that habit was broken."
Bill grimaced a bit—especially when he remembered what he could and should be doing right now with Fleur instead of having his mother keep tabs on his housekeeping. He turned that grimace onto Charlie, and the two had a silent exchange where Charlie seemed to be fighting off the urge to laugh. He actually waited until his mother bustled off into the kitchen a moment later to let it out.
"For the record," George said, standing from the sofa and heading toward the kitchen himself with his empty plate. "This was a cracking good tart."
"You didn't eat all of it, did you?" Bill called after him.
"Of course not," Fred said. "We're not animals."
"Debatable," Charlie quipped.
"There's still plenty left," Fred finished.
"There better be," Bill said, looking around to see if his mother was in the direct vicinity before lowering his voice. "Seeing as I made a promise tonight and I have plans to follow through on that."
"Oh, your night not over then?" Fred asked, lowering his own voice as well. "Finishing up your date? Seriously though, how long has that been going on? Where did she even come from? And aren't you about a hundred years older than her?"
"A hundred years?" Bill repeated, slowly shaking his head. "Maths has never been your strong suit, has it?"
Fred seemed to find that funny and let out a rather amused sort of cackle right George rejoined them. It was then Charlie cut in with, "Wait, did you actually ask out that ten you were telling me about?"
Bill nodded. "I did."
"And?"
"And," he smiled, "it's going well."
Charlie grinned. "Good on you. Glad to see you made time. I knew you had it in you."
"Yeah, some of your better advice there," Bill offered. "It's been worth making the time. I was trying to make time tonight, but then this lot—" He gestured to Fred and George specifically, "showed up and forced my plans to change."
"Boo hoo," George said. "If you were doing what I think you were doing in that room—"
"He was," Fred said.
"—with Fleur Delacour, then you're not going to get any sympathy from me about anything ever again."
"Yeah, you should be able to ride that high for the rest of your life," Fred said. "I would."
"Well, here's hoping I can stretch things out that long," Bill said as he stood from his spot beside the fire.
"Shit, that sounds like some serious talk," Charlie mused. "Someone's falling hard for this girl."
Bill smiled and shrugged, not choosing to elaborate given his current audience. The sound of one of his parents reentering the room also happened to catch all of their attention; their mother appeared then with a bag in hand and a sweeping glance over the four of them.
"Who's fallen hard?" she asked, looking directly at Bill. "What girl? Do you have a girlfriend?"
"Why do you automatically assume it's Bill?" asked Fred.
"Because it's always Bill," said Charlie as their father returned into the room with his own bag in his hand. He looked to be bringing quite a bit back to Grimmauld Place with him.
"What's always Bill?" he asked, removing his glasses from his face to clean the lenses with the sleeve of his robes. "What are we talking about?"
"It seems he may have a girlfriend," said his wife, still looking at her son for some sort of confirmation.
His father shrugged, holding his glasses to the light to inspect them. "He has always had one off somewhere, hasn't he? Can't say I'd be surprised. That is very much Bill."
"Alright then," Bill said abruptly. "Moving on…"
"I need to go," Charlie said before proceeding to explain that he was on high alert given one of his dragon's eggs was due to hatch any time now; he had to be ready at a moment's notice. He told them all he would talk soon, adding to Bill that he should reach out when he could.
Once his face disappeared in the flames, Bill hoped this meant he could get his evening back on track, even if the rest of his family only half appeared to be gearing up to leave. No matter, really. He didn't have to stick around just because they were here. He could easily claim he had plans and pop out.
"I'm going to go, too," Bill said to his parents. "Meet up with a friend."
His mother eyed him. "Is this the girlfriend?"
"It might be." He smiled. "Believe it or not, I'm not trying to keep things from you. It's more that I'm not rushing things. It's very new."
"You've barely been home a month," she said, almost in disbelief. "Where do you even find the time?"
"You make time," Bill said, still smiling.
"Things are just so tense right now," she continued, sounding a bit worried. "I worry about—"
"Everything," Fred and George said together, looking as if that had even surprised them. They both pointed at the other and laughed.
"You act as if I don't have a reason to be," she said, her tone slightly more stern than before. "Everything is changing and you all don't realize how bad things can get. You weren't there the first go around. The dangers that are out there—"
"All the more reason to enjoy the fun when you can," her husband offered, placing his glasses back on his face and looking at his eldest son. "Go on, Bill. Go have some fun. Enjoy your night."
"Can we go out and enjoy our night?" Fred asked.
"When you're done with school," thei
r mother countered. "Then you can do whatever you want. Until then—"
Suddenly, cutting swiftly through the moment, something large and silvery came swooping in through an adjacent wall and stopped rather abruptly in the middle of their sitting room. It was luminescent and gleaming, casting a bright silvery glow across the faces of all parties standing in the room. Bill recognized it immediately as Kingsley's Patronus even before it's lynx shape cast them all an intense stare.
Dementor attack in Little Whinging. Harry escaped. Meeting immediately.
With that, the lynx vanished.
His mother gasped and put her hands to her mouth, immediately turning to her husband. Everyone else stood there rather silent, almost questioning exactly what they'd just seen.
"What would Dementors be doing in Little Whinging?" Bill asked, looking to his father. "Why are Dementors in a Muggle suburb?"
"I don't know," he said, slowly looking back at him. "But I suspect it wasn't an accident."
"Oh, but what of Harry?" asked his mother, sounding panicked as she gestured for Fred and George to hurry along toward the door. "He must have been terrified. Can you imagine? Dementors. We need to..."
There wasn't even any other conversation. His family had all darted straight for the door and Apparated the moment they could; only his father even bothered to throw Bill a quick sort of "See you soon" look before vanishing.
Bill went to fetch his shoes, knowing then that his date night was essentially turning itself into any other sort of night he and Fleur were used to having—him out late, and her hopefully understanding. That was how it was. It was what they'd both signed up for—well, him more so than her, but she'd known what was at stake.
He'd make it up to her somehow.
A/N: Well friends, that's the end of this particular chapter of B/F's lives, seeing as they're together. This is where I'll leave you for now...because I haven't written anything else yet. My hard rule is to never post unless I've got a complete product to serve up, and I consider each "chapter" of their lives to be a complete story. Which means I could potentially quit this here and it could stand on its own. That's the feel I'm going for with this story.
Here's hoping you enjoyed reading the beginning as much I enjoyed writing it. Let me know if you did because I'm currently trying to figure out my next direction. Let me know if you didn't, because maybe then I should leave this story where it's at and move onto something else, lol. Either way, thanks to everyone who took the time to read; thanks to everyone who reached out—some of you have become very familiar sights in my inbox and I appreciate it every time. :)