"He's always been able to fall asleep anywhere and in any position. His father is the same way."
Bill stirred, the sound of his mother's voice and the kink in his neck alerting him to the fact that he was not sprawled out in a warm bed somewhere; rather he was sitting upright in a hardback chair with his head against the wall. His father was sleeping soundly in a hospital bed nearby, pale with blood-red bandages covering various parts of him but alive. His mother was on the opposite end of the room speaking to a young nurse with dark hair and a clipboard. She smiled at her son when she noticed him stirring.
He sat up and rubbed his eyes. What time was it? He couldn't even remember falling asleep. The last thing he remembered, it had been just after two and they'd finally been allowed to see his father after several hours of Healers working on his wounds.
"It's been nearly an hour since we've last checked him, so we'll be changing his bandages now," said the nurse to his mother. "He'll need to take his potion again, of course. Given the current state of his bandages—" She gestured to one in particular that was completely saturated in blood, "he's lost quite a bit more blood since the last time."
His mother was nodding, seemingly used to the routine at this point. From what they'd been told upon arriving, the lacerations his father received would not stop bleeding no matter what methods were attempted by Healers. He had been bleeding out and practically dead when discovered, but they'd managed to finally stabilize him with a steady dose of Blood Replenishing Potion that he now had to take every hour. The Healer currently in charge, one by the name of Pye, had claimed that there must have been a venom in the bite of the snake that had attacked him; it was that was keeping the blood from clotting properly. It was a matter now of finding the proper antidote. Until then, his father would need to remain under observation.
"But he'll live?" his mother had asked anxiously. "You're saying he'll live?"
Healer Pye had nodded confidently. "I should think so. This isn't even the worst creature attack I've seen this week."
A creature attack; specifically a snake attack. A snake—which was never found or identified—had apparently somehow got into the Ministry of Magic and attacked his father while he'd been on duty outside the Department of Mysteries. A random official from the Ministry had turned up and claimed that they had no idea how this could have happened and that it was a rather unheard of fluke, but Bill already had a very good idea of what had occurred before anyone had even begun asking questions. The moment he'd heard the word snake, he knew exactly what had been attempted.
He and his mother had found themselves with more questions than answers, but they'd heeded Dumbledore's advice to not ask questions of any of the Ministry people who turned up. These people had several questions of their own, including repeatedly asking why Arthur was down near the Department of Mysteries to begin with. His mother simply derailed all of their attempts by repeatedly firing her own question back at them: "Why was there a deadly snake near the Department of Mysteries?! One that was never apprehended! Shouldn't you be trying to find it instead of waiting to badger my injured husband with questions?!"
The officials eventually left them alone.
They'd finally been allowed to see his father once he'd managed to successfully get through his first round of blood potions, and while he hadn't been awake for long, he had managed a weak smile and a squeeze of his wife's hand before everyone encouraged him to rest. At some point, Bill must have fallen asleep himself. He really did have a talent for falling asleep anywhere.
"How's he been?" Bill asked his mother, sitting up straighter and observing his father.
"He's been asleep on and off," she said, watching as the current nurse pointed her wand and started unwinding the saturated bandages very methodically. "He stirs when they check-in and administer potions, but he's slept otherwise."
Bill nodded, watching the nurse as she worked. The moment she pulled one bandage off, blood started pouring out of his father's abdomen like a faucet. It was difficult to watch, though the nurse was quick and with a few flicks of her wand had the new bandage on within seconds. She let it wrap about ten extra times than what was typical.
She administered him his blood potion, which caused him to stir as he gurgled it down in a strange half awake, half sedated state. When she had finished, Bill gave her a polite and tired smile that she returned sweetly—and with a bit more eye contact than usual—before she excused herself to clean up.
His father croaked, "That potion is dreadful," as his wife went to tend to him and make sure he didn't overexert himself now that he was awake. She had just begun fluffing a pillow and telling him how he really should rest more when the voice of a new visitor—the one they'd been anticipating all night—suddenly said, "I do hope I am not intruding."
Professor Dumbledore had entered and stopped just inside the room; his gaze going straight to Arthur. He inhaled slowly before mustering a small smile and turning in onto everyone else in acknowledgement. "May I say, Arthur, you are nothing if not a fighter."
"I don't think I put up much of a fight," came the hoarse voice of his father, who was examining one of his fresh bandages. It was already displaying a new red blood stain.
Dumbledore chuckled. "At least your spirits were not damaged, even if much of the rest of you was."
"The Healer believes he'll recover," said his mother as Dumbledore approached the edge of the bed. "It was touch and go for a bit. They said he got here just in time." Her eyes began to tear as she reached out and took her husband's hand. "Had they not got to him in time…"
His father squeezed her hand and smiled back at her in a way that Bill could see a lifetime of love that didn't need to be spoken, checked, or questioned. The way they looked at each other made them appear positively enamored, and their faces spoke more than any words could. If his parents were one thing, it was absolutely, positively mad about each other; truly soulmates and a perfect pair. They'd set some ridiculously high expectations for him to live up to in his own relationships.
Dumbledore was nodding. "Yes, I am thankful we discovered him when we could and had enough time to act. If not, this conversation would be an entirely different one."
"Professor?" Bill asked, having sat forward in his seat. "May I ask how you discovered him at all, let alone in time? How did you know he'd been attacked?"
Everyone in the room looked at Dumbledore expectantly. In turn, he was now glancing out a small, nearby window. When he did finally look away, it was at the entrance to the room.
"If Arthur has had his last check-in, we should hopefully be allowed a few minutes of privacy."
With that, the door to the room shut and a silencing charm was placed on the room. For the next several minutes, Bill sat in relative silence as Dumbledore began to explain the events of earlier in the evening. Outside of his mother's quiet gaps and a single sharp intake of breath his father took—which he regretted instantly after grimacing in pain—there were no other noises other than Dumbledore's voice as he attempted to paint the picture of the bizarre events that led to Arthur's discovery.
Harry had apparently dreamt the entire encounter in a very vivid way—a way Dumbledore still had many questions about, though he claimed to still be sorting out that theory. At times he almost made it sound as if Harry had possibly been possessed by You-Know-Who—having viewed the dream through the eyes of the snake—but he quickly added that while it may have appeared as if it were a possession, it didn't fit the proper telltale signs.
Dumbledore reiterated this twice, as if he was well aware that after what had happened to Ginny a few years prior, the word possession tended to cause a bit of a nervous reaction in the Weasley household.
Harry's dream had apparently caused him to have a bit of a fit, which is when Dumbledore had been alerted. He'd used portraits at the Ministry to confirm and call attention to Arthur's plight, which is how his father had been discovered. Dumbledore had already come up with a cover story as to why his father was down near the Department of Mysteries to begin with, simply stating that the most obvious solution was often the most readily believable.
"So," his mother had begun to say, looking rather shaken by the details and was struggling to make sense of it all. "If Harry hadn't seen…? If he hadn't said anything and just rolled back over and gone back to sleep?"
"Arthur would be dead," Dumbledore confirmed. "Yes. He would have most certainly bled to death before anyone would have found him." He paused. "That said, I also do not see any scenario where Harry would have rolled over and fallen back asleep if he saw—and likely felt—what I suspect he did."
"Merlin's beard..." said his father in a far away tone. It was now his turn to look as if this was almost too mad to believe. "Our family would be in shambles if Ron hadn't befriended Harry during that first year. Absolute shambles..."
Bill started nodding slowly. If it weren't for Harry, his father would be dead. His sister too, most likely. And while he knew Ron probably hadn't even told them half the truth about what he, Harry, and Hermione really got into, Bill had a suspicion that his kid brother was still in one piece due to some real effort on Harry's part.
His mother was sniffling and also nodding very quickly, already half muttering how she had no idea how they could ever truly thank Harry for everything he'd done. It was Dumbledore who quipped, "After opening your home to him year after year, I think Harry would say the same of all of you."
Dumbledore ended his story by letting them know that Ron had witnessed the fallout from Harry's vision and been made aware of many of the horrific details. Realizing that time was of the essence, Dumbledore had taken it upon himself to also rouse Fred, George, and Ginny and remove the lot of them from Hogwarts before Doloris Umbrigde could ask too many questions. He'd had them all take a Portkey to Grimmauld Place, where Sirius was currently keeping an eye on them.
At the word Portkey, Bill felt a sudden pang of realization that he was supposed to catch a Portkey. Later that day he was supposed to catch a Portkey...at least that had been the plan until everything happened last night. Fleur. France. Holiday...
Shit.
That seemed like another life and another world right now. The idea of Portkeying off to France to enjoy some time with his girlfriend while his father lay with only a few bandages and a potion to keep him from bleeding to death seemed terribly selfish. His mother was holding it together, but he knew deep down this was doing a huge number on her. Not to mention with a full house of teenagers and her husband in hospital, she probably would need the support.
He rubbed his eyes again, knowing he'd have to write Fleur straight away and tell her. An owl wouldn't even reach France before his Portkey was due, so that was going to create loads of questions. Questions he could barely answer.
She was probably going to kill him at worst; chuck him at best. He'd promised her he'd be there and this...this was a big change of plans. He obviously couldn't do anything about his father being in hospital, but this felt very much like a last straw sort of thing. She'd got her family involved this time and he was bailing on the plan. She would have to make excuses for him; tell them them...
He stopped to think about that. Tell them what, exactly? What could she tell them because what could he tell her? How on earth could he even explain what had happened since he was only allowed to tell her half truths? It wasn't as if he could just come right out and admit his father was attacked by a giant, venomous snake while at the Ministry without the added context of why. Or how. Or who was behind it. Did he really expect her to believe giant snakes just roamed the halls of a government building?
No, because she wasn't an idiot. She was going to find the entire story insane and immediately attribute it to him keeping her in the dark, just as he always did. Just as he always had to. How much longer was she going to put up with that? It had only worked so far because outside of a few arrests and minor incidents, there wasn't much to tell. But if people were getting attacked, it was going to be much harder to keep that under wraps.
Shit.
"I should go and see the children and let them know everything is alright," said his mother, addressing her husband specifically. "I can only imagine how worried they are. They probably haven't slept."
"Yes, I think we could all use a bit of rest," Dumbledore said affirmatively, and Bill sensed he too noticed how sleepy his father suddenly looked. He seemed to be struggling in bed to keep his eyes open.
"But I also don't want Arthur left on his own…" his mother added.
His father yawned, cringing in pain as soon he did so. "I'll be fine, Molly. Go see the kids. They need you."
"I'll stay, Mum," Bill offered. "Go. They'll want to hear everything from you. I'll take the morning off work and stay with dad. I do have a meeting with the head goblins later on today that would be difficult to miss, but I can stay until then."
She smiled at him—a familiar smile that always seemed to convey how proud and thankful she was to have him around to help. "Thank you, dear. I'll be back by then. I'll bring everyone back later for a visit. Once your father's had some proper rest."
She smiled then at Dumbledore and again thanked him for all he'd done. After checking—twice—to make sure her husband was perfectly situated, she left for Grimmauld Place.
Once she'd gone, there was a bit more discussion about who would take over the nightly watches his father had been assigned now that he was out of commission, but it was clear his father didn't have much energy left in him to discuss matters. He drifted off to sleep mid-sentence at one point, prompting Dumbledore to smile and say, "If anything must take him tonight, then let it be sleep."
Bill forced a grin, feeling rather exhausted himself now that he'd had a chance to let the last few hours properly catch up with him. What a fucking night. He probably would nod off again once Dumbledore left, but a part of him knew he should first write to Fleur and get that letter into the post as soon as possible. Where to even start with that…?
"Well, I'm sure a bit of quiet after your evening would be very welcomed," Dumbledore said, cutting through Bill's thoughts. "So I will excuse myself and allow you to indulge. Please tell your father I will check in again soon."
"I will, sir. Thank you again for all your help."
Dumbledore nodded, though before he left, he paused to offer, "And correct me if I'm wrong, but you will be visiting France any day now, will you not?"
Bill purposely let his face turn doubtful as he glanced over at his father. "I think it's safe to say those plans have been put on hold for the time being, sir."
Dumbledore nodded as if he understood. "Of course. A shame, I'm sure. I do hope Miss Delacour is not too disappointed."
"Me too," Bill muttered, though he did find himself surprised to hear Fleur's name come out of Dumbledore's mouth so casually; as if this great and powerful man didn't have better things to do than pay any mind to something as ordinary as his relationship. Then again, he really should have known better. As his father always said, Dumbledore knows everything .
And suddenly, like a kick to the head, Bill realized that he was in the exact scenario he'd been hoping to find himself in for months now: standing one-on-one with Dumbledore, his undivided attention on him. Granted, his father's battered and punctured body lying yards away was not the circumstance he was hoping to be allowed this audience, but he had it nonetheless.
If he could talk to Dumbledore about Fleur joining the Order, that may soften the blow of him needing to tell her he had to miss their holiday. It would be a small piece of good news to go along with all the bad, and he needed all the good news he could get right now. He'd already sat on this for too long, and if tonight had taught him anything, it was that life truly was too short. Tomorrow was never guaranteed.
Dumbledore had moved to exit, and Bill could sense he was about to wish him well and be on his way. Now or never.
"Sir," he said before Dumbledore could wish him goodbye. "May I ask you a question about the Order? Or rather, about how someone might be able to join?"
Dumbledore's eyes grew curious; he seemed to be observing him for a few more seconds than normal. "Did you have someone in mind?"
"I do, as a matter of fact," Bill said slowly, standing then to meet him face-to-face. "It's been a question I've been meaning to ask for a bit, but I suppose I wasn't sure how to ask. I know you personally invite everyone to the Order, and I'm aware we can't have just anyone—"
"While true," Dumbledore cut in, "understand that exclusivity isn't my intention."
"Right, of course. You're looking for people who can be trusted. Loyalty—"
"Loyalty is paramount."
Bill grinned. "Well, I'm not worried about her loyalties. I firmly believe they align with ours. She's completely behind Harry. She's spoken endlessly about how ridiculous the Prophet is sounding for printing the things they have about him and you, as well as the Ministry's current stance."
Now it was Dumbledore's turn to let himself grin. "If you'll allow me to take a guess, William. Would you happen to be suggesting Miss Delacour?"
"I would," he said, now bracing himself for a response he wasn't sure he would potentially like. "Yes."
Dumbledore nodded, his gaze traveling around the room in an aimless way before he settled back on Bill. "I did find myself fond of Miss Delacour. A very talented young witch who I'm afraid didn't quite get to showcase the extent of her abilities during the Tournament."
Bill couldn't disagree with that. "She caught a few bad breaks, but she is brilliant."
"I have no doubt," Dumbledore said. "The Goblet of Fire does not make mistakes." He paused and seemed to suddenly question that statement. "Or rather, it rarely does. There is a first time for everything." He looked back at Bill. "But perhaps we must look at that recent interference as ultimately not being a mistake at all—not when considering the larger picture. Who is to say?"
Uh…? Bill shrugged. He wasn't exactly sure he followed. Were they still even talking about Fleur?
"Tell me, William, how long have you and Miss Delacour been together?"
"Um, roughly six months, sir."
He nodded something that looked like approval. "One can assume that over six months, you've become quite close."
"I think so, yes," Bill said. "It's without question the best relationship I've ever had. I could see myself with her long term. Even…" He trailed off short of saying 'forever' because he felt it sounded rather juvenile and schoolboyish to someone like Dumbledore. "I love her. And I trust her explicitly."
Dumbledore smiled at him. It made Bill feel the need to drive home that this wasn't simply about him wanting his girlfriend in the Order for the sake of having her around. Rather, she deserved to be there because their goals aligned and she could be trusted; because she would be an asset to the cause.
"She's wanted to help and make a difference since the moment the Tournament ended," Bill continued. "It's why she moved here to be back in the thick of things. She felt she was spared that night of the third task for a reason. That reason is to not only make sure Cedric Diggory didn't die in vain, but also so that Harry knows he has people who believe and support him. She wants to bring down You-Know-Who as much as any of us do. She knows about the Order—"
Dumbledore raised his eyebrow.
"That is to say," Bill backtracked, "she knows I'm a part of something. She doesn't know the details. She doesn't know who else is involved. She doesn't know what we're doing. She only knows that I'm actively attempting to help take down You-Know-Who and his supporters with the help of others. And—frankly—she's been amazing at accepting that information at face value and not hating me for keeping secrets from her. Because there have been loads of secrets."
Dumbledore was quiet for a moment; his face pensive. "I would think that would make for a difficult foundation to build a relationship on. One of you is living in such secrecy."
"It's had it's up and downs," Bill said. "But we love each other, so we've made it work." He paused for a moment. "But things would get substantially easier for me if I could get her in the Order as well."
Dumbledore chuckled at that, which Bill took as a good sign. At least the idea of inviting Fleur didn't make him recoil at the thought. Granted, he also wasn't showing much of a reaction in favor or it either, but Dumbledore was nothing if not a man who rarely let anyone know exactly what he was thinking.
"And, sir, I'm aware you don't know her well..."
"I do not," Dumbledore said, "though that isn't to say I don't have it on good authority she is what you've claimed based on the word of people that do know her. Madame Maxime, for instance, is someone I trust very much. She has spoken very highly of her. That is to say, more than is typical of us Headmasters to speak of our students." He smiled at Bill. "Forgive us. Sometimes we do have our favorites, though I should never say that."
Bill smirked. "Fleur's quite fond of her as well."
"And then of course you, William. You and your family have always been nothing, if not obligingly loyal from the day I met every one of you. Even as children, you, your parents, your siblings have never given me a reason to doubt you or your word. It is something I am most grateful for."
As kind as those words were, Bill couldn't help but randomly think of Percy then; how he'd gone and ruined the ability to claim that the Weasleys were an unequivocally loyal lot. He had to be the outlier and the blemish. Bill now wondered if he'd even bother to check in on their father after what had happened. He couldn't be that far gone…Could he?
"Have you spoken to your parents about her joining the Order?" Dumbledore asked, bringing Bill's thoughts back around to the topic at hand.
Bill glanced at his father sleeping soundly. "I brought it up to my dad once—just to inquire, not really asking—and while he wasn't against it, he did mention that he didn't know her well enough to say. That she may be young."
"She's an adult."
"Technically so are Fred and George. But my parents would say the same thing about them."
Dumbledore smiled. "Touché. But their age isn't what is keeping them out of the Order. It's that your parents have asked for them to finish school before joining. And as I respect your parents, I will also respect their wishes. When it comes to Miss Delacour, I'm not concerned with her age."
Well, that was good to know. Bill could eliminate that concern. Dumbledore didn't find her too young, people he trusted could vouch for her, and he respected her skills and abilities. This was all looking very good for her.
"If I am honest," Dumbledore continued, "I had thought you may ask this question one day relatively soon. The way your parents have spoken of your relationship and how serious it's become, it seemed a natural progression. Not to mention how you've managed to lead a double sort of life while also growing your relationship. It hasn't gone unnoticed. Most couples would not withstand something like that, so it must be truly special."
Bill half smiled, thinking of Fleur and how true it was that things were only growing stronger, even though they really shouldn't be. The secrecy, the half truths...Relationships had fallen apart for much less in life, yet they were still here. They were still together. It was special.
Though, he was caught by something else Dumbledore had mentioned. Something he couldn't ignore. "My parents have talked about my relationship with you?"
"Briefly," he offered. "When your father mentioned you were hoping to get away for Christmas, for example. He'd made it all seem as though things were becoming quite serious. Your mother happened to mention that she felt things were becoming a bit too serious, too quickly."
Bill forced himself not to roll his eyes, though he must not have done a very good job. Dumbledore definitely caught scent of his annoyance and was again smiling.
"I did feel the need to remind her of how quickly she and your father seemed to have moved back when they were younger—quick enough that I was aware of it even as Headmaster. Young love does tend to have that effect on people. But," he looked at Bill very purposefully, "that is as far as I'm willing to comment when it comes to family matters and a mother's concerns for her child."
"My mother's concerns can be overbearing at times.".
"As I understand, that is a tale as old as time," Dumbledore offered. "What do you feel she'd say about having Miss Delacour join the Order? Have you asked her?"
"Honestly," Bill said, not looking at him. "That all of you barely know her. That we've only been together for six months. That joining the Order is a commitment that is bigger than our relationship. That I probably only want her there because she's my girlfriend and not because I know she'll be an asset. That's I'm thinking in the present and not the future. What if we end this tomorrow? Then what? Can she be trusted?"
Dumbledore stared at him. "You seem to have given this some thought."
"I know my mother."
"Well, if those are your mother's true concerns, then I cannot claim some are not without merit. I would ask some of those questions myself. However, unlike your mother, I am not blinded by feelings of my son and his life choices." He smiled. "It does change the perspective.
"With that said, know that I will take Miss Delacour into serious consideration, William. I will further speak to Madame Maxime about her. I will allow your relationship to develop further; to the point where you can tell me, without a shadow of doubt, that you believe this woman would be willing to stake her life for this cause."
Bill had immediately wanted to say then that she would—he was sure of it—but...was he sure of it? She wanted to help, that he knew. She was loyal and faithful and he knew she could be counted on, but would she be willing to die for it? It was easy to say you would, but—he looked at his father, his bandages already becoming more and more saturated with blood—this wasn't about simply saying it. It was about meaning it.
That wasn't something he was willing to vouch for on her behalf because they'd never talked about it. They should probably talk about that. She would have to make that choice and speak for herself.
"Because as you are aware," Dumbledore said, also letting his gaze now settle on the bed where Arthur slept, "lives are being staked every day. And it is not a commitment to be taken lightly."
"Yes, sir."
"Be sure this is something Miss Delacour truly wants, and I will certainly consider her joining us," Dumbledore said, this time actually turning to leave. "We'll speak more to this later. But for now, I will leave you with your father." He smiled. "Happy Christmas."
"You as well, sir," Bill said. "Happy Christmas."
He was gone after that, leaving Bill to sit back down in an otherwise quiet room; his father's short breaths and the ambient noise of the hospital being the only sounds. He was tired, but sleep wasn't his first priority.
He needed to first send a message to Gringotts, letting them know he was taking the morning off for personal reasons; then he needed to owl Fleur. He wasn't looking forward to sending that letter, though after hearing what Dumbledore had just said, he felt a bit better about it all. He and Fleur needed to talk, and they unfortunately would have to wait two weeks before being able to do it in person, but he hoped she'd be happy he'd started the process.
That is, if she didn't chuck him first.
"Fleur, ton manteau!" her mother called after her, brandishing her cloak as Fleur dashed from the house and into the back garden of her family's home.
Fleur promptly ignored the request that she put on her cloak. She'd determined she didn't actually need it since it wasn't that cold outside. Or perhaps it was...Now that she was outside, she was discovering she may have been wrong about the temperature. Still, it didn't matter. She was too excited to correct things because in less than a minute, Bill's Portkey would arrive and he would be here. Here! Just the thought of him joining her warmed her up. Who needed a cloak?
She glanced back at the house, where her mother was standing in the outline of the door and shaking her head at her. Three of Fleur's cousins—Inès and Meline, who were only a bit younger than Fleur, and Claire, who was closer to Gabrielle's age—all had trekked outside, but remained back by the house to watch and observe. Gabrielle had tried to venture outside with them, but Fleur could hear her mother's scolding that she was not going out without her cloak on.
Gabrielle's disapproval could be heard across the garden, but she'd quickly gone to fetch it.
There were more people inside—her father, her aunt and uncle, another older cousin, Simone, who was also back for the holidays like Fleur was. It was the first time Fleur had seen any of them since this summer and it had been an amazing day of visiting and shopping and readying for Noël. Everyone had come back to the house for dinner and to finally meet this boyfriend that Fleur kept talking about. She had certainly talked him up enough lately, especially to her cousins.
They'd all agreed he was terribly handsome in the photo Fleur had brought, and Claire especially liked his long hair and earring. Meline had expressed a bit of jealousy, seeing as she had fallen on some rough times in a romantic sense. With two recently failed relationships with pitiful boys, she was happy to let everyone know love was a joke. Boys were stupid. Everyone would be better off if they stayed away from them. While she conceded that Bill was attractive, she also felt the need to point out that those were the ones you had to watch out for. They were the ones who always ended up being disappointments.
Fleur didn't listen to a word she had to say, which was generally how their relationship had worked over the years. Meline would be eating her words shortly once Bill turned up—perfect as he always was—and charmed them all. She knew he'd even manage to do it with what little French he spoke.
"Comment lui parler s'il ne parle pas français?" Gabrielle had asked Fleur earlier that day, wondering just how any of them were supposed to talk to him if he couldn't speak French.
Fleur had smiled and let her know that she would happily translate anything difficult. But this would be good for Bill. He was trying to learn French, and what better way than to immerse himself? He had a grasp on the basics after all; he was a quick learner.
"Un homme d'Angleterre," Inès had mumbled, commenting yet again that she couldn't believe Fleur was seriously dating a man from England. It was apparently one thing to date them causally, but to get serious with one? That was madness. That apparently meant one of them would have to make a choice one day—England or France—and Inès seemed convinced Fleur had already made up her mind about that. It was something she very clearly wasn't happy about. The two had always been very close growing up and Inès wanted her to come home.
It wasn't that Fleur had made her decision to stay in England one way or another once her gap year was over. She hadn't thought that far ahead, but she'd be lying if she didn't see herself extending her move for...longer. Much longer. Her job was going well, she'd fallen in love, and Bill—while not getting her involved in his secret life fully—was trusting her with more and more information everyday.
She felt excited by the prospect of staying in England and building something—especially with Bill. And who knew? Perhaps if everything settled down with You-Know-Who one day and they all lived to tell the tale, maybe she and Bill could consider France as a place they might both want to be.
But she wasn't trying to think that far ahead yet. Instead, she bounced on the spot in the back garden—both from the cold and the excitement—wondering where exactly the Portkey would land. Any second now…
She could hear her cousins teasing her from back near the house—how she'd never been the type of girl to get this kind of excited over a boy before; how funny it all seemed. She was usually the cool and collected one; the one the boys flocked and fretted over and were excited to see. Not the other way around.
That honestly should have cemented to everyone just how special Bill was to her. She'd told her mother the night before that she could see herself marrying him, and her mother hadn't looked particularly surprised. She did tell her to take everything one day at a time and make sure she was making the right decisions, but that she trusted her to do right by herself because she always had. It was how she'd raised her to be.
Gabrielle had walked over to join Fleur where she stood, smiling up at her once Fleur put her arm around her. "Êtes-vous excité?"
Fleur smiled and nodded. She was very excited.
"Je suis excité pour toi," Gabrielle said sweetly, leaning her head onto Fleur's shoulder and expressing that she was very excited for her.
Fleur let her head find her sister's, resting it delicately on hers. Moments like this she would treasure since her baby sister really had grown so much in the last year. She was already able to reach Fleur's shoulder and she was only nine. She hadn't been able to do that the last time she'd seen her.
She reminded Fleur so much of how she was at that age. The same hair; nearly identical faces. She was all knees and elbows right now, just as Fleur had been, but that would change in the next few years. Everything would start to change for her in the next few years.
And in some ways that made Fleur sad since Gabrielle had always been a complete ray of sunshine in the world—sweet, kind, perfect. But even in the last twenty-four hours that Fleur had been home and seen her around her cousins, she was starting to see habits starting. The sass, the eye-rolling, the attitude, the occasional disparaging comment to look cool and keep up with the older girls. Fleur knew she had been no better—she'd probably been worse—but it was strange to stand back and see history repeat itself.
She knew Gabrielle would eventually go to Beauxbatons, mix up with people who would inevitably influence her in so many different directions; if she were like Fleur, she would date, and ride to the top, and collect and dispose of people given the season. Eventually the sweet, smiling little girl who often greeted her with open arms would become...well, she could become who Fleur was. Or still is…? Fleur wasn't sure where that line quite blurred yet. All she knew was that since the Tournament, she didn't feel like that girl at Beauxbatons anymore. She wasn't sure she missed her either.
"Il est où?!" Inès suddenly called from back near the house, asking where Bill was. From her tone, she sounded as if she were cold.
"À tout moment," Fleur called back, glancing around the garden. Any moment...
Ten second passed before a noise that disrupted the calm suddenly caused Fleur and Gabrielle to look to their left. All they found there was a small object falling to the ground with a thump. It had been glowing a moment before, but the glow was fading now that it was on the ground. It appeared to be a tin can, which…
"C'est quoi, ça?" called Claire as the entire group of them stared over curiously; each asking the same question. What is that?
Fleur didn't move, she just stared at the can and found a small feeling of foreboding now sweep through her. Gabrielle had been the one to walk over to investigate, reaching over to pick up the can and inspect it. "Une canette," she said, holding up the can for Fleur to see. She then also detached a sheet of paper that was attached to it and held it up as well. "Et une lettre."
No one seemed to know what was happening, though Fleur was putting the pieces together rather quickly. The can had been Bill's Portkey, and the letter was...well, it was clearly a substitute of the man who was currently NOT standing here as he was supposed to be.
Fleur's mother had emerged from the house and joined her daughters in the garden, asking what had happened and evidently detecting that something had gone awry. Gabrielle had walked over to hand Fleur the letter that had been attached, though she had no desire to even look at it currently. What was it this time, Bill? Secret activities she wasn't allowed to know about? Goblins demanding his time? Or did his mother get her way and keep him securely stationed at home as she'd wanted? She could honestly take her pick.
Back near the hour, Fleur could distinctly hear Meline say something the likes of, "Maybe Fleur's boyfriend is that sheet of paper ? Should we go say hello?" which was followed by a giggle or two. They hushed up though once Fleur threw them a dark look. Claire and Inès looked away and avoided eye contact immediately; Meline didn't, and simply shrugged.
"Quelque chose s'est-il passé?" asked her mother in a confused tone, wondering whether something had happened and sounding very concerned.
Fleur didn't answer. She looked down at the crumpled up letter in her hands and stared at it, not even half curious what the reason was this time. She was sure it was something. It was always something.
No, she was not dating a sheet of paper. But maybe she should be considering the paper actually turned up…