Bill and Tonks had managed to snag a table just catty-corner from where LaSalle was now absently reading something from a folder he'd brought with him. He hadn't bothered to notice them, and Tonks had insisted on taking the seat facing him so that she could monitor the situation. This meant Bill was blind to whatever was occurring behind him. The only way he could see would be to turn around and stare rather obviously.

Tonks had explained to him earlier that with a few quick spells—which she'd silently and casually cast on their walk over—she could now eavesdrop on their entire conversation when and if the Death Eaters turned up. It simply required her being able to keep them in her sights.

"I do have a back up plan if necessary," Tonks said with a funny sort of grin as she produced a small notebook, a Muggle pen she claimed to be particularly fond of—"My dad turned me onto them. So much more efficient on the go than quills"—and last, a set of Fred and George's Extendable Ears devices that they'd been messing about with all summer.

Bill stared at the latter before looking up at Tonks rather doubtfully.

"They're actually quite good," Tonks offered. "I was impressed with their range and clarity the first time the boys let me try it. They may be onto something, those two."

"Oh, they're always onto something," Bill mumbled.

"I'm serious," Tonks said with a laugh, moving the ears out of sight. "They're really quite clever with these inventions. And those will come in handy if for some reason my spell gets blocked or if they happen to put up a silencing spell of their own. Anyone would half a brain should, but these types aren't exactly known for their brains—"

She stopped speaking at once as something caught her attention from somewhere behind him. He didn't want to look for fear of drawing unnecessary attention, but his suspicion was quickly confirmed once Tonks—while now pretending to examine something on the table top—quietly whispered, "Our two friends just walked in. Headed this way."

Bill nodded, knowing now was the time for action. Tonks had been quite clear earlier that she may act a bit strangely during this observation. She would be focused entirely on the conversation several yards away, so she wouldn't be able to offer him a side chat. That being said, they obviously couldn't just sit there quietly not speaking since that would rather odd behavior. So, she'd told him that he should feel free to just talk to her at random about whatever he'd like, and she'd casually throw out responses whether they made sense or not.

"They're sitting," Tonks whispered, straightening up and picking up her pen and notebook to start recording her notes. In a completely normal tone, she said, "Right. Terrific. Now, let's plan the party, shall we?" She smiled at him expectantly. "You go on and name the guest list, and I'll write everyone down."

"Right..." Bill said, taking that as the signal that she was now off. He wondered whether he should just start naming people as she'd asked since it was something to say, or whether he should go off on an entirely different tangent. Maybe he should name the Weird Sisters song catalog from start to finish?

Tonks had already started writing something down, and when she looked up it was always directly at him—as if they were engaged in a conversation. Head up, head down, occasional sweep of the room.

This kept going; despite how awkward it all felt, he kept offering mild pieces of conversation. In response, she randomly would say things like, "Oh yes, she has to be invited!" or "No, not him. He's always awful" before writing something else down. If he didn't know any better, it really did seem as if they were planning a party of some kind. Her ability to multitask at this level was impressive.

"Anything good?" Bill asked, not sure if she was listening, but trying nonetheless.

"I don't know if we should invite her, she always gets far too pissed when everyone gets together," Tonks said, flipping the page of her notebook and scribbling on. Her notes were so thorough that he was starting to wonder whether she was actually taking notes or simply transcribing the entire conversation.

He grinned and pushed his empty pie plate out of the way. He still had about ten minutes until his break was over, though he could afford to be a few minutes late if necessary. Tonks had made it seem like this wouldn't be long—Death Eaters apparently weren't known for long and drawn out meetings in public places—and it wasn't as if Tonks didn't have this entirely under control anyway.

He'd just started to yawn and make himself comfortable—deciding then to start reciting the first track listing from the Weird Sisters debut album before ranking his favorites—when a voice suddenly caught him off guard.

"Bonjour Bill."

It had come from behind, which caused him to turn rather abruptly and see Fleur standing there with a strange sort of smile on her face. It was forced and not like her usual bright and brilliant one. He barely had time to process that since he was more taken by the fact that she was here. She hated this place. What was she doing here?

"Hey…" he said, sounding both confused and surprised. He smiled at her out of reflex, though he found himself immediately conflicted between wanting to greet her properly and realizing that now was really not the time. "What are you doing here?"

"What are you doing 'ere?" she asked in a pinched tone. "I zought you 'ad to work tonight."

He stared at her. He….had told her that, hadn't he? He'd told her that he couldn't meet her here tonight and yet here he was, which...shit.

Fleur suddenly let her gaze settle across the table onto Tonks. He did as well, only for a world of realization to come suddenly raining down upon him. Oh shit, did she think…?

He looked back at her. "This is a friend of mine," he said immediately, knowing this did not look ideal. He'd lied to her, told her he couldn't see her tonight, only to turn up with another girl at their very spot. Without context this all seemed...not great.

"Meet, um..." he added, not remembering what Tonks had asked to be called. Fucking fuck. "My friend."

Tonks actually looked up then, but her expression was not the one Bill had hoped for. She actually glanced from Fleur to him with a fleeting look of being inconvenienced by all of this, but she was back to scribbling something down again and said nothing. A friendly smile would have probably gone a lot further than that look.

Fleur furrowed her brow, definitely looking put off now. When she looked back at him, it took her a moment to ask, "So, you did not 'ave to work zrough your break? You were meeting your friend?"

Technically, this was work—he just couldn't just explain that to her. That meant he didn't have anything to offer her other than, "It's a long story."

She laughed, but it was dismissive. "It always iz." She looked away and was halfway through a rather disappointed sounding sigh when Tonks actually spoke.

"Bill! Can you…?" She made a gesture as if to indicate this needed to be stopped. She probably couldn't hear properly with all the talking; not to mention that Fleur was blocking her line of sight to the table. "Take care of this, would you? Not the time. Make her go away."

"I beg your pardon?" Fleur said, looking challenged, though Bill had already reached out then to grab her by the arm. He'd intended to pull her into the seat beside him and attempt to explain, but as soon as he'd touched her—like a flash—she'd somehow managed to pull out her wand and point it directly toward him. He wasn't sure what was more startling—the act itself or how bloody quickly she'd got it into her hand.

"I did not say you could touch me," Fleur said, a fire there that he'd never seen before.

He retreated his hand and put his hands up to offer a surrendering gesture. She hadn't brandished her wand in an overly threatening way—at least not in a way that would cause a major scene—but it was certainly enough to catch the attention of anyone looking. A pair at a nearby table were now watching rather alarmed. He wouldn't be surprised if they'd caught the Death Eaters' attention as well.

Then, quick as another flash and much to her surprise, Fleur's wand was plucked from her own hand and flew into Tonks' hand. She was now casually holding it, though Bill hadn't even heard her utter a spell. When they turned to look at her, she was staring at Fleur rather stone-faced.

"I'm going to need you to put that away," Tonks said to her. "You have an impressive quickness to your draw, but I promise I'm quicker."

With that, she held out Fleur's wand for her to take back.

Many things happened in that next moment. Fleur looked somewhat flabbergasted as she snatched her wand back. Tonks was now throwing him a reproachful look, and he could only imagine what she thought was happening here or who Fleur even was. On top of that, he couldn't help himself from casting a glance around the vicinity to see if anyone had noticed. On the whole the pub was caught up in their own groups and business, but a few people directly around them were still watching. This included the Death Eaters, who'd seemed mildly entertained for a brief moment, but were already returning to their discussion with LaSalle.

So much for remaining inconspicuous.

If looks could kill, Fleur would be sure to have him dead on the spot right then; she said nothing more and was turning to storm off before he just managed a rather desperate sounding, "Fleur, listen. If we could talk—"

She kept walking, straight past the table of Death Eaters—one of whom blatantly checked out her arse as she passed, which only made Bill want to physically throttle him. He knew he wasn't doing Tonks any favors right now by causing a scene, and if he let Fleur walk off, who knew if there was any coming back from that with her. He knew the task was important, but he seemed to be doing more harm than good.

He stood and went after her. This time—knowing now that she was right-handed—he caught her by the right arm to keep her from reaching for her wand. "Hey, please talk to me."

She stopped and swung around on him, again snatching her arm from his. She was even beautiful when she was angry—terrifying, but beautiful. "Why? You lied to me. You lied and zen let your friend," she'd heavily emphasized that word, "or whatever she iz—"

"She's honestly just my friend."

"Zen why did you lie about it?" she asked. "If she iz nozing but a friend and zis is nozing but a friendly meeting, why not tell me ze truth? Do you zink I care you want to meet a friend? I do not! I care zat you lied. I do not like liars."

"I had to," he said, though he felt like a right prat. "This isn't what you think, but it's not—"

"You 'ad to lie?" she asked, looking at him as if he were a complete idiot.

He sighed. This was not how the two of them were supposed to be playing out. Yes, he'd lied, but how could he not? It was for her own good. For the Order's own protection. This was why he wasn't supposed to be falling for someone and attempting a relationship, because there was no possible way he could lead this double life of working for the Order and keep it all under wraps. It was already coming to a head and she and him weren't even a proper couple.

Maybe it was better to just let her be angry with him—let her walk away and hate him. Life would go back to the way it was before. There'd be no more secrets and lies. He'd have lived and learned.

But as he stared into her perfect, clearly hurt eyes, every urge he had was telling him to fight for this. To work it out; not let her walk out of his life because her mere presence the last few weeks had made things happier, brighter, worth waking up for. What was the point in fighting Voldemort if he was personally destroying all the things in his life worth fighting for?

He lowered his voice. "I had to lie because this is about something larger than you and me. It's larger than all of us."

She stared at him as if that was a load of tosh, and to be fair it sounded like it was. But the Death Eaters were not far from where they were standing. Even though he and Fleur seemed like a random couple in the middle of a spat, he couldn't risk anyone outside of her what he had to say next.

He stepped up beside her and let his face get so close to her that it may have appeared he was going to kiss her. Instead he whispered in her ear, "You told me you wanted to help Harry. To see to it Cedric didn't die in vain. If you meant that then I need you to drop this for now. I need you to not say another word because people are listening. We can talk later, just not here. Not now."

He stepped away to find her staring at him, only now she seemed utterly confused as to what he was talking about. She actually looked startled at the name drops of Harry and Cedric, as if her world had just been rocked a bit. He could only assume two trains of thought were going through her head now. She either thought he was completely mental and was figuring out how to run, or she was letting what he'd said sink in.

"I do not understand," she said. "What are you…?"

"Not now," he repeated, right as the Death Eaters were already standing to leave, Bill could sense it in his peripherals and Fleur looked outright. She even had to step aside for them to access the path toward the exit, which caused one of them to reveal a rather unsettling and leery smile toward her. LaSalle hadn't bothered to leave yet, though Bill immediately noticed the absence of the folder he'd had with him earlier.

The Death Eaters disappeared from the pub without dawdling, and LaSalle was now gathering his things to exit as well. Bill didn't waste another second walking back over to the table where Tonks was still sitting; when he reached her, he noticed she was absently doodling little pictures on her notebook as if she were bored—or pretending to be. She looked up at him.

"I always took you to be the drama free Weasley."

He sighed. "Did it…? Are things fucked?"

She shook her head and gestured to her book. "I think I got what I came for. As most people will tell you, I'm excellent at eavesdropping, so it's going to take more than you and your lady drama to derail my lifetime of practice." She smirked at him. "Plus, I think your little show briefly distracted our friends over there as much as it distracted me. Not much loss."

He let himself exhale heavily as he reached up to scratch the top of his head. "I'm sorry about—"

She shrugged. "It'll be fine, mate. Things rarely go exactly to plan. It's sort of what I spent three years training for." She stood then, knocking over her empty glass and fumbling to pick it back up before asking, "Is she the girl you were talking about earlier? She's really pretty if it is."

"Yeah, she's the one," Bill said, his voice coming out far more tired than expected because he suddenly felt exhausted. "I made the mistake of telling her I was working tonight because I couldn't meet her, and yet here I am..."

Tonks pulled a face. "Well, have fun working that out." She nodded behind him. "Want me to go over and tell her we're not a thing? I could throw in how much you fancy her."

"I'll take care of it," Bill said, forcing a smile.

"It was worth a shot," Tonks offered. checking the time before glancing back at him. "I'm going to head back home," she emphasized that word to drive home the fact that she was referring to Grimmauld Place, "but you probably need to be getting back to the bank, yeah?"

He checked his watch. She was absolutely right. He was already later than late. Shit, all he needed were angry goblins on top of angry everyone else. If he set off the goblins, he then got to listen to them all night complaining about how wizards are entitled arseholes who don't value the creatures they consider lesser being's time.

"Yeah, I do," Bill mumbled, making to turn away. "I'll see you."

"See you. And don't worry, I'll leave your lover's spat out of the story," she teased, causing Bill to throw her an appreciative sort of wave before he found himself running straight back into Fleur. She hadn't moved since their encounter minutes before, and she still looked positively confused.

"Look, I want nothing more than to talk to you," he said, slowing down but not stopping. "But I need to get back to work—actual work, I'm not making that up, I swear. But, if you'll have me and I can come by later, I promise we'll talk. That is, if you're not angry with me. Are you still angry with me?"

"I…" She blinked and practically spluttered. She didn't seem to know how to answer that. "Yes? No? I do not… What iz 'appening? What was zat?"

"Later," he called behind him. "I'll stop by. Your choice if you answer the door or not."

A knock at her door woke Fleur up. She couldn't remember falling asleep.

She was on her sofa, lying awkwardly; still in her clothes from work. She blinked a few times and looked over at the clock. It was just after one in the morning, though last she'd checked—which she thought was ten minutes ago—it was eight-thirty in the evening. She'd got home from the Leaky Cauldron and had sat down for a moment to let herself replay the situation with Bill over again in her mind. He'd mentioned helping Harry; Cedric not dying in vain and...nothing made sense. None of it.

And who was that girl he was with? She had to admit that he didn't seem upset at having been spotted with her, which meant he was either truly soulless or things weren't what they appeared. But if it wasn't a secret rendezvous, then why did he lie? And where did helping Harry and Cedric fit into any of this?

As she'd been pondering all of this, she must have shut her eyes and let her lack of sleep finally catch up to her. She'd evidently been out for hours.

Another knock on the door. She pulled herself off the sofa and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She looked tired, and her hair needed a good brushing, but she oddly enough didn't care. She wasn't sure yet if she cared about looking cute for Bill anymore. At the moment, she wasn't sure about anything when it came to him.

She ran her hand through her hair to straighten it out as she reached the door. She pulled out her wand and pointed it at the knob, deciding to have it at the ready because her gut told her to be on alert at the moment. Nothing was as it seemed, and if she'd learned anything lately, it was that it was better to be safe than sorry. With a quick swish, the knob turned on it's own and allowed the door to open.

Standing there was Bill, as she suspected, so she slowly lowered her wand to her side. Even with all the mystery and rubbish tonight, she still couldn't help but feel overwhelmingly calm in his presence. But she still didn't put her wand away.

"Hey," Bill said with an apologetic smile. "Thanks for answering."

She didn't respond; she just stared at him. She noticed he was again holding flowers in his hand, lots of pink and purple wildflowers, which...where would he have even procured flowers at this time of night? He'd gone straight from the pub to the bank.

"First of all," he said, holding them up for her. "I'm sorry for lying to you."

She didn't take them, though she did ask, "Where did you find those? It is the middle of the night."

His apologetic smile turned sheepish. "Well, just to prove to you that I'm done lying, I'm going to fully admit that I took these from one of the offices because the cleaners were about to bin them since it's the weekend." He looked down at them. "I thought they were too pretty to just be tossed in a bin."

That seemed far too random and specific to not be true. She let herself crack the smallest of smiles, but didn't take the flowers. She did step aside to allow him enter since she was too curious not to hear him out. She was now less concerned about the random girl and that being anything significant, but she was still so confused by the lying and the strange behavior. The pieces were coming together more and more that he was up to something.

She could feel Bill watching her as she walked straight past him and went for the kitchen. She was going to make tea given she now had the overwhelming urge for a very strong cup. Not a word was spoken, though when she reemerged with a cup for both of them, she found him sitting on the edge of her sofa waiting for her. She handed him his cup without a word, which earned her an appreciative smile and a "Thanks."

She sat on the opposite end from him. Her tea was uncomfortably hot so she was forced to sit there waiting for it to cool; unable to distract herself with drinking. After nearly half a minute of awkward silence, she finally said, "You said you had to lie. Would you care to explain why?"

Bill nodded and set his tea cup down on the nearby side table. "It was...easier to tell you I had to work instead of going into the details of what was happening. I see now how it didn't look good. That I lied and went to meet some girl, but I swear she and I are nothing more than—"

"I do not care about the girl," Fleur interrupted. "I did at first, I will admit that. Especially after last night because I assumed—"

"No, I get it," he said. "And I agree. Last night was incredible. One of the best nights of my life. I can see how you would feel—"

"Either way," she interrupted again, not wanting to derail from what she really wanted to talk about—despite the fact that hearing him call it one of the best nights of his life did give her a pang of satisfaction. "While I was upset, we are not together and you—both of us—are free to see who we want."

He said nothing to that. He just stared at her.

"But you felt the need to lie to me for a reason," she continued. "As if you have secrets you are trying to keep. I have noticed this pattern. When you have nights off from work, you have 'things to do'—always things, never any details. You feel the need to meet with people, but lie about it. As if I would care if you want to meet with someone."

"Again," he said, "it seemed easier—"

"But why?" she asked. "What are you hiding? What are you doing? And what does any of it have to do with Harry or Cedric? What did tonight have to do with them?"

He took a deep breath. He was clearly fighting some sort of battle as to how to proceed with this conversation, but for once she wasn't going to ease off the topic.

"Because if you cannot answer that question, then...I am sorry. I think we have something special, but this path of secrets and lies is not something I want to be involved with."

He nodded a little, and she found herself surprised by the direction she was taking this conversation. Here was the person she'd convinced herself was the man of her dreams just earlier that day; the one she'd thought about and fantasized about from the moment she first saw him. A small part of her had actually been afraid that her quick attachment and intense feelings for him was making her weak—at least in the decision making department. Yet here she was ready to walk away if this wasn't going to play out on her terms. She now knew none of that had been weakness; it had been blind faith.

She was happy to know she still hadn't lost that part of her.

"I don't blame you," he said, more to himself than her. "It's not fair to anyone." He looked directly at her. "I need you to know that I feel the same way about you—about us. I even kick myself for it because you deserve normal. Someone who doesn't…"

"Does not what?" she asked. "Why do you not let me decide what is normal? What do you do that is so abnormal? Is it illegal?"

"Not yet," he muttered, sounding as if he was half joking but also...not. "But given the way the tide's turning with the powers that be…" He sighed again and sat up in a way that completely faced her. "Anything I say to you—the parts I can say—cannot leave this room. The only reason I'm contemplating telling you is because I trust you and truly believe we want the same things."

What did that…? Either way, she braced herself. She could feel it in the air that this was one of those moments where she was going to hear something that may or may not change everything.

"You told me yesterday you were frustrated about how it doesn't seem like anyone is doing anything about You-Know-Who after what happened to Harry and Cedric. I told you there were people doing something about it. I wasn't saying that in a general way, I personally know people who are. I am one of those people."

She scrunched her face up. "What does that mean?"

"It means that when I'm busy doing things and not giving specifics, it almost always has to do with helping out the cause. Tonight for example, that woman I met is also someone trying to help. There's a group of us."

"A group?" she asked, trying to make sense of what he was saying. "What kind of group?"

"A group of different kinds of people, all with the same goal. To keep You-Know-Who from returning. I'm not allowed to speak much to it."

"Why not?"

"For starters, I've made a promise I wouldn't," he offered. "Also, there are spells and magic involved that keep me from revealing too much information. Think the Fidelius Charms and the likes. I can only say so much. It's all beyond my control."

Fleur found her mind swimming. Was he really saying that there was an actual group of people out there secretly planning...what? To stop this You-Know-Who? This monster who had apparently brought life to a standstill years before? The one who had killed Cedric and tormented Harry? But how? And through what means? And who were these people?

"So you are claiming to be part of a group?" she asked. "A movement to stop You-Know-Who?"

He nodded. "The government is buggering everything up, so we've decided to take things into our own hands. Everyone has different jobs—"

"What is your job?"

He hesitated. "I can't reveal the specifics."

"Is it dangerous?"

He shook his head. "I don't think so. Not usually."

She watched him for a moment, now wondering what exactly he was mixed up in. Where had he even found this organization and how had he got involved with them? She doubted very much that this was as simple as answering a flyer or an advertisement in the paper.

"Did you join after you moved back?" she asked.

"I moved back because I joined," he said matter-of-factly.

That...actually made sense. More sense than his original explanation as to why he's come home. It certainly explained why he still spoke so fondly of Egypt and why he always made it seem like he did not want to leave; why he always talked about going back as soon as he could.

"How many people are in this group?" she asked. "Is it large?"

His expression twitched in a way that made her immediately know he wasn't sure how to answer that. Perhaps he didn't want her to know whether it was too small; or the opposite—that it was massive. "I can't say…"

"What can you say?" she asked.

He laughed a little. "I've essentially said everything I can. I know it's not much, and I know it sounds mental, but I swear to you I'm not lying. Not that I would blame you if you didn't believe me."

She did believe him; that was the strangest part. Why? She had no idea. It sounded almost ridiculously far-fetched, but a part of her—a part that had nothing to do with Bill—wanted to believe it was true. It was the answer to the question she'd had since she moved to England: Why was nothing being done about what had happened at the Tournament? Where was the outrage over the death of a school boy at the hands of a madman? The uproar over the torture of an even younger boy at the exact same time? Why were so many people acting as if that was just an unfortunate accident instead of a horrendous crime? Why did no one seem to care or want to do anything about it?

But if what Bill was saying was true, then people did care. There were people who wanted to do something about it.

"How does one join this group?" she asked, looking back at him. "Can anyone join? Could I? I have told you I find the way everyone is treating Harry absurd. I want to help him."

Bill looked away, but she caught him grinning. "I had a feeling you'd ask that, but it's complicated. It's not a matter of signing your name on a list and paying membership dues. Given what we're dealing with, you would need to be asked by…" He paused before clearing his throat and said, "You would need to be asked to join."

She wanted to ask by whom, but she was starting to see how this worked. She doubted names were under the category of things he could discuss. "How would I do that? I do not have an issue inquiring with someone."

"It's not about you asking," he said. "It's about being asked. The people involved have proven their allegiance. It's all about trust and loyalty and knowing you can be counted on. Knowing you're not some spy for the other side."

She let her distaste for that ridiculous comment show all over her face, which oddly enough made him chuckle.

"I didn't say you were," he said. "But they don't know that."

He let himself move a little closer on the couch, as if he was trying to be sure he had her attention. "Look at it this way. Let's say for a minute you can't be trusted. For all I know, you're some master spy all wrapped up in this beautiful, charming, perfect girl who just so happened to move here around the exact same time You-Know-Who came back on the scene. Is that a coincidence? I mean, we know the Tournament was infiltrated by Death Eaters once. Who's to say you're not one of them as well?"

That was easily the most ludicrous thing she'd ever heard in her life. She actually felt her cheeks warming with anger. The words she wanted to say weren't coming quickly enough—at least not in English.

"And you've told me before that you knew how close my family is to Harry," he continued. "You noticed it at the Tournament. You told me you noticed me at the Tournament, even with everything else you had going on that day." He shrugged. "Who's to say you didn't do your homework and seek me out for a reason? Try and get to know me better? Maybe get some information? Maybe get a closer connection to Harry?"

"That is ridiculous," she said. "I noticed you because I thought you were handsome. If I wanted to get closer to Harry, I had opportunities while I was at Hogwarts. I certainly did not need your help. The fact that you would even suggest—"

He suddenly reached out and laid his hand on her knee in a comforting and almost silencing sort of way. A part of her wanted to swat it off, but then he very calmly said, "Fleur, I don't believe any of that. I'm just trying to tell you why you can't simply join up. That it's hard to simply trust people at their word these days. That it's all about proving yourself. Actions, not words."

"My actions have always been sincere."

"And I believe that," he said, sounding as if he meant it. "I've never once even considered your intentions as anything other than genuine." He pulled a quick face. "Shit, I hope they're genuine because I fancy you and, I won't lie, if this is all an act I'm going to be gutted."

"It was never an act," she said, her tone still cool. "My feelings for you are real and they have been from the moment I first saw you. Everything I have said has been real. The way I feel about you to how I want to help Harry. It is all real!"

"And I believe you," he repeated. "I have no reason not to."

She looked away. She didn't know how to feel at that moment. A part of her felt a bit patronized; another was still angry with him for daring to even suggest she could be untrustworthy. At the same time, she ultimately knew the point he'd be trying to prove—that she would have to demonstrate that she could be trusted.

She wanted to help this effort. She'd known that since the moment the fog had cleared from the night of the third task. Something big was happening. Something bigger than her; something she needed to be a part of. She'd never been so sure of something in her life.

She turned back to Bill. He was staring right back at her.

"How do I prove myself?"

He took a deep breath. "I would think you keep doing what you're doing. I can ask around and see exactly what it would take, but honestly the answer is mostly time. Time to earn trust and prove this is something you'd be able to handle. If we keep seeing each other, I would think you would work your way in because I could personally vouch for you."

It was her turn to breathe in deeply and exhale slowly. Earn trust...Earn the trust of whom? As of now the only people she knew were even involved in this were him and Harry. She had to assume some of his brothers, seeing as they were Harry's friends. Maybe his family? Then there was that strange red-headed woman at the Leaky Cauldron. She had no idea who else would be involved. The papers were after Dumbledore as much as they were after Harry, so perhaps him? He was supposed to be exceptionally powerful, so if he was involved he had to be one of the top members. Perhaps he had something to do with this...

"It's not an overnight thing," Bill offered. "It would take some time. If you're willing."

She appraised him rather carefully then, studying his face for a long moment. He actually started to look a bit awkward under her gaze, as if he wasn't sure what to do. With that, she finally asked, "Does this mean I must keep you around? You seem to be my…" She paused to figure out the wording. "Best chance to get close to this group."

"You don't have to, but it would help." He cracked a smile. "Here's hoping you'd keep me around for other reasons though."

She shrugged. "I might." She also smiled a little upon seeing his. "I suppose I can find other uses for you."

That made him laugh, though his laughter did taper off into a rather sweet sort of expression. He was staring at her in a way that made her feel as though he'd never seen her before. It was strange but comfortable.

"So," he said after a moment, "I just told you loads more information than I probably should have. And I did it not only because I trust you, but also because I want you to trust me." He paused. "And I want you to trust me because I want this to work. The last couple of weeks have been great."

She nodded, agreeing readily, "But this can only work if there are no more lies. I understand you have your 'things' to deal with that I am not necessarily privy to, but there has to be a…how you say, an in-between?"

"A middle ground," he said, nodding as if he agreed. "I agree. And if you're willing, we can work that out." He smiled at her. "You're taking this much better than I thought you would, which is honestly, really cool."

She picked up her tea and took a long sip. "Stop lying to me and you will see how well I take things."

"Understood," he said, reaching over to grab his own tea cup to drink some.

The mood felt considerably lighter now; more like their usual rapport. Things were out in the open, and it was amazing how much a bit of communication could clear the air. It seemed this thing they were doing—this relationship—was going to move forward. It was going to be a bit more bizarre than she'd originally anticipated—her fantasies rarely included him sneaking away secret meetings and missions—but she was learning that her expectations could be adjusted.

After all, he wasn't the only one with a secret now. She had one as well—the knowledge of his secret. He'd brought her into his bubble, which she decided was a show of trust. He could have easily let things lie as they had been hours before, with her thinking he was a liar and a jerk; him moving on with his secret life without the burden of her. But he hadn't done that. He'd included her, which felt rather intimate.

It was a small step. She was willing to see where it would take her, both with Bill and also in a broader sense of being a part of something much bigger. If there was one thing she had while she was in England this year, it was some time.

"Can you not tell me what it was you were doing at the Leaky Cauldron tonight?" Fleur asked once she finished her cup of tea.

"Keeping an eye out for Death Eaters" Bill offered casually, sipping on his own tea.

She stared at him for a long moment, even blinking a few times for good measure. "Did you...find them?"

He nodded.

She continued to stare at him. Maybe this wasn't going to be so easy after all, because she now had so many questions. "And...am I...may I ask what happened?"

He shrugged as he drank more of his tea. "I honestly don't know because this girl I'm dating chose that moment to come over and pull her wand on me."

She closed her eyes and grimaced through a smile, letting that rather chaotic scene at the pub play out again in her mind. "You are the one who chose to lie," she said once she opened her eyes and shook her head, Now that she knew the truth, it wasn't one of her best moments. "Your friend thinks I am mad. That I am some jealous girl…"

He shook his head. "Don't worry about her. She told me everything was fine, so it worked itself out in the end." He stood then, motioned to his teacup as if he was planning on having some more and silently offering to get her some as well. She was already nodding when he added, "If anything, she got to put a face to the stories I was telling her about you."

"Stories?"

He nodded, stopping just in front of her and leaning down to look her in the eyes, "I was telling her before you got there about how much I fancied you."

They both stared directly into the others eyes before each of them let grins crack across their faces and give way to a giddy sort of moment that Fleur would have captured in a bottle forever if she could. Like a flash, she could see it all there in his eyes—her entire future. It was clear as day. It made more sense than anything she'd ever felt. This was meant to be.

She leaned forward and kissed him, and they both let it linger for a few extra seconds before he pulled back and straightened up, pointing in the direction of the kitchen and claiming that he'd warm the kettle up.

He'd just walked off when she called after him, "The next time I see your friend, I will apologize."

"Trust me, it's not a big deal," he called back. "And truth be told, you'll probably never actually see her like that again. She doesn't usually repeat."

"'Doesn't usually repeat?'" she said to herself, not understanding what he meant. That was clearly lost in translation, but she wasn't sure she even wanted to know what he was trying to say.

It would just lead to more questions.