In answer to some questions:
Morbihan is a coastal district in Brittany, which is a region in northern France. Brittany has traditionally been very distinct culturally from the rest of France, with very strong traditions. The Breton are ethnically Celt. The language spoken in the region is (beyond the standard French required to be taught in schools) either one of two versions of Breton Gaelic (however Brezhoneg is far more common of the two) and a dialect or patois that mixes Brezhoneg and French. Breton muggles have traditionally fought centralisation to Paris, keeping many older traditions long after other regions of France have relinquished them. Unless obviously magical, any traditions you see herein are based heavily on reality.
As he heard the start of one of his favourite songs begin, Bill waved his wand in the direction of the small black wireless that was sitting on the edge of his kitchen countertop. He turned his face grimly back to the job at hand and muttered, "They'll only play Celestina Warbeck or Barnabas Bibble next to make up for it. Bloody useless this wireless programmer is."
Staring down at the mess of torn fabric in front of him, Bill frowned again and thought, "Household spells ought to be a required course. How hard should it really be to fix this?"
Bill took a deep breath and placed the threaded needle at the beginning of a long tear and tapped his wand to begin the charm. The needle jumped up and dove deeply into the fabric, jabbing through itself into Bill's leg. With a howl of pain, Bill jumped up from the chair and dropped the torn robe onto the seat. He had been working on mending it for a half hour and was no further along. He was simply going to have to ask for help.
Looking round the messy kitchen, Bill knew that he wasn't doing much better at looking after himself than his mother had predicted. He had put very little energy into straightening the house and almost none into preparing the food he ate. He was aware that his robes were barely presentable most of the time. However he could not bring himself to spend more time at home that was necessary; there was nothing about the house that did not remind him of Fleur. Yet he could not yet bring himself to get rid of anything that she had touched. He had even left the extremely ugly mirror that Fleur had bought for their bedroom, despite the fact that it commented frequently on his 'disgraceful' appearance.
Bill tore his thoughts away from the state of his home and back to the torn dress robes that he was supposed to have worn the next weekend. It was to be the first wedding that he had attended since his own. Anders had threatened to curse him if he didn't attend, and Bill was aware that Anders would actually follow through on his promise. Bill was either going to have to purchase new dress robes or take the ones that were sitting in a heap on his chair to his mother.
Making a grand gesture with his wand at the pile of crockery strewn across the kitchen table, Bill spoke the washing up spell and strode from the kitchen into the sitting room and nudged aside a large stack of books with his foot so that he could pull out the chair in front of his desk. As he sat down he began to rummage through the cubby holes of the desk for a clean bit of parchment and a bottle of ink that hadn't dried up. Finally having found all the implements he needed to write, Bill pulled out a small roll of light blue parchment from his pocket and gently set it down in front of him.
He didn't really need to reread it, but he still carefully perused the lines that had been written in her very neat hand. It was only a thank you owl for his help with purchasing the Epidex level supplies that she had needed for her seventh year project. There was nothing particularly special about anything that she had written, nor had she left open any obvious route for him to keep communicating with her since she had remembered to include with her note all the paperwork that he would need to submit to the Ministry. The only hopeful thing was that he was now allowed to write back to her, since she had first written to him.
However, he knew that he would not be able to stretch the opportunity to anything other than a friendly receipt of notice. Anders' Breton great-uncle had written a detailed explanation of what Bill could expect from Gwen's family and from her. The traditions and expectations surrounding a Breton witch's marriage were archaic, foreign, and almost perfectly designed for Bill to fail. The elderly Breton wizard had even found out what Gwen's family had been requiring of the wizards who had submitted offers for her. Bill could never hope to meet the family's minimum standards.
Bill knew that he would have to accept that he was not going to get what he wanted. Even if she had shown the slightest interest, which she had not, there was nothing he could promise Gwen that made him a better candidate. Bill sighed and shook his head as he began to write a short, proper response to her owl.
"I haven't felt so full since the Christmas feast. That was an obscenely good cake your Mum made for us, Ginny."
Ginny laughed and replied sleepily as she blocked the sunlight from her eyes with her hand, "I think what was truly obscene was how much we all ate of it. Gwen and I alone ate half."
"And we'll be eating even more in a few hours. I'm going to put on a stone before your wedding day arrives."
"Mmm, I don't care. It feels lovely to have nothing to think about but good things. I don't even care about my NEWT results right now."
"I am trying not to think of it really. You know, I never thought I would feel so sad that we aren't going back next year. All I dreamed about for months was finishing the exams and escaping from school, but now that we have gone I wish it weren't all over."
Ginny lifted her head from where it had been resting on her arm whilst she lay across a large brown blanket and replied, "You really didn't think about it? I thought of it all year. There were so many times that I thought, "Well that is the last time I shall ever do that."
Elisabeth shook her head and said sadly, "I was too caught up with everything else and I was so panicked about the exams. I wish I'd sort of walked round and said goodbye to everything, at least once. I'll never do any of it again, will I?"
As Ginny lifted herself so that she was propped up on her elbow, Gwen reached out an arm and snatched the last chocolate biscuit from the plate next to Ginny. Ginny made a face at Gwen and replied to Elisabeth, "No, we won't." Ginny moved to sit up and looked back at Gwen, who was finishing the last mouthful of biscuit and now looking in the direction of the Burrow as if she were expecting something. "But there are other things now. Hogwarts was part of our childhood, but that's over, Elisabeth. We'll all be married before this time next year."
Elisabeth's cheeks turned bright red. "Well, I haven't said yes yet, Ginny."
Gwen suddenly interjected, "But you will. You'll have to make your decision soon."
Ginny, who looked surprised at Gwen's somewhat harsh tone, turned her head and tried to follow Gwen's gaze, but could not see anything but her brother, Ron, degnoming the garden. "Well Thomas won't be back from Italy for another two weeks, so she still has time, Gwen. Anyway, I suppose we should go back. The party is only two hours away. Mum will want some help."
Elisabeth and Gwen both stood up and began to help Ginny as she started charming the remainder of the picnic into the basket. Avoiding looking at Gwen, Elisabeth asked, "When does your great-aunt arrive, Ginny?"
"Tuesday. When do you two have to go back to Scotland again?"
"Mum will be here on Tuesday. But we'll be back in another few weeks. It's just that Mum promised that she would act as guardian and chaperone for Gwen, so we can't stay away long."
"Oh, I understand perfectly. Have you heard from them, Gwen?"
Gwen shook her head and said unhappily, "No. Mother's last letter was almost four days ago. Father's treatment was supposed to take almost two weeks, so I don't know when I shall hear anything. You know that owl post from Morocco is slow anyway."
Ginny placed her hand on Gwen's back and said kindly, "I'm sure that your father is fine, Gwen. Bill said that the sort of curse that your step-father has is most likely derived from a branch of Arab magic, so the healers he is seeing should be better able to deal with it than either St Mungo's, your Breton healers, or even the Flemish healers."
Gwen looked gratefully at Ginny before she responded, "That is what Mother is hoping. The specialist is Egyptian, actually, and seems to have a lot of practical experience with similar curses."
Elisabeth put her arm round Gwen and added, "Then he may be able to think of something that the others couldn't."
"I hope so. I wish Mother would have let me come and see him before they began treatment, however. I haven't seen him since last summer and he's been too ill to write almost anything other than at Christmas and my birthday."
"Yes, but he did send you a long owl for your birthday, didn't he? I'm sure he misses you, too."
Gwen set her jaw firmly and said slowly, "Well, I think, hadn't we better go and help your mother, Ginny? I am sure she could use us in the kitchen or something."
It ought to have been long enough; she had waited for almost an hour. They should be asleep by now and she should be free to get up without disturbing them. Gwen sat up quietly and looked about the dark room, trying to acclimate her eyes so that she could find her way across to where she had laid her robes over her trunk. Slipping stealthily from the bed, Gwen hurried across the room with her fist clenched round a thick roll of parchment and stopped beside Elisabeth's trunk to quickly dress. Having buttoned the last in a row of tiny jet buttons and raked her hands through her hair fitfully, Gwen grabbed the parchment roll again, shoved it in her pocket, felt for her wand, and then stepped over to the door.
Once out into the corridor, Gwen almost ran down the stairs and through the kitchen. Nervously fiddling with the kitchen door, she looked round as if someone might have seen her, and then stepped outside into the moonlit night, closing the door firmly behind her. Once outside the door, Gwen stopped for a moment and leant against the thick wood. Her hand went immediately to her pocket, but instead of pulling out the parchment she shook her head, looked over at a line of trees near the top of a small hill, and then began to race hurriedly towards them.
When she had pushed through the low hanging branches into the small clearing beyond, Gwen stopped briefly as she saw that Bill was standing beside the bench, looking completely shocked to see her. Walking more slowly, Gwen crossed the grass towards where he was standing.
Gwen stood next to him for a moment and when he did not speak, she asked, "Would you rather I went somewhere else, Bill?"
Bill stammered, "No, no, I just, you know I didn't think you would come out here again."
Gwen looked up at him with a strange expression on her face and said, "I can't read this over with Elisabeth nearby you know. She doesn't understand how serious it is. She seems to think that I could somehow escape it just by saying I don't want to or have Father intervene."
Bill sat down next to her and tried hard to keep his face neutral as he said, "I understand that your laws restrict you, Gwenaëlle. But I don't think that I am the person to talk to about this. I was happy to explain your mother's report from the healer to you, but you have to know, you can't have failed to understand yesterday why I can't advise you about your marriage."
Gwen shook her head and set down the rolls of parchment that she had brought. "I understand that, Bill."
Bill picked up the roll of parchment from the bench, but did not look at it. "Do you understand, Gwenaëlle?"
Gwen turned her very pale, strained face up to him and replied in a tiny voice, "Yes."
Bill looked away from her at what he held in his hands and said, "That is why you came out here again?"
"Yes, Bill."
With shaking hands, Bill unrolled the pile of parchment and spread it across his knees so he could read it. "What am I looking for? What are you asking me to do?"
"Nothing, Bill. I didn't come out here to ask you for anything."
Bill looked at the parchment on the top of the pile and raised his eyebrows. He was holding the section of French code that dealt with the status of unmarried Breton Wizarding females. Bill asked with disbelief, "You are looking for a way out legally?"
"I don't think that there is one."
Bill took a deep breath and asked, "You know your family better than I do, but do you believe that they will allow you to remain unmarried? I think that is probably your way out, Gwenaëlle."
Gwen stood up from the bench and shook her head angrily, "No. If I go back toBrittany I won't be able to refuse Uncle. He will make it impossible. I won't be allowed to decline all of the proposals. But if I don't go back when Mother orders me to return then I shall never be allowed home. They will repudiate me."
Bill looked away from the witch pacing the grass in front of him and turned back to the parchments in his lap. He passed one hand over his blanched white face and then flipped through the stack of parchments until he reached one almost half the way through the stack. He pulled it out and began to read it carefully. Gwen stood staring at him as he read, but as he began to speak she sank onto furthest end of the bench from him.
"There is nothing here, Gwenaëlle. These laws are iron clad. I have studied them myself, you know, as well as your family's requirements for proposal."
Gwen's mouth wavered slightly as she took back the parchments from Bill's lap and vanished them with a wave of her wand. "Very well then." She stood up without looking at him and turned away to walk back to the house.
In a hoarse voice Bill called out, "What did you want me to say?"
Gwen turned round and said softly, "I am sorry, Bill."
Bill stared at Gwen, before standing up and saying, "Gwenaëlle, I am not afraid to stand up to your family. I don't care about the consequences to me, but I do care about what it would be like for you. You wouldn't have anything, not even the right to do magic."
Gwen sighed, "I don't see why you say I would have nothing, Bill."
Bill caught Gwen's hands and pulled her down onto the bench and sat close to her. "Would you? You would marry me, Gwenaëlle?"
Gwen looked up at him seriously and replied, "Of course I would, Bill."
Bill looked confused and stunned. He continued to hold her hands tightly and said stupidly, "You will?"
"I have been hoping that you would say something for months. I have been afraid that maybe I had misunderstood your interest."
Bill shook his head in disbelief and raised his hand tentatively to where Gwen's hair draped over her shoulder and lightly touched it. "I didn't think you had noticed me at all."
"Bill."
Bill looked down at Gwen, who had raised her head so that she was now only a few inches from him. She had lifted a hand to his chest and was staring intently at him. There was nothing more that he needed to say.
