June 1996
With the twins home, life seemed busier. The Burrow was noisier again, not only with the sounds of people, but with explosions and crashes. For the weeks that they were back under the Burrow's roof, it was evident they had loads of work to do. If they weren't testing something, they were working on floor plans of their shop, designing packaging and logos, creating display ideas, or discussing details down to the color of the robes they wanted for uniforms. For two people who couldn't be bothered to work hard when there was fun to be had, they were certainly showing how hard they were willing to work when they were enjoying themselves.
Bill helped as much as he could. He refused to let them test on him, but he volunteered his opinions and gave feedback on things they asked about. He helped them with their boxes of inventory that were piling up around the house, and he sat them down with the right goblins to get their business financials squared away at Gringotts. He had even started being more vocal with their parents, talking up how great their products were and how some of their items were ridiculously useful. He may have been playing it up a bit, but he meant every word he said.
Their folks had somewhat begrudgingly come around on it all. Bill had caught his father poking around in some of the boxes laying around when he didn't think Fred and George were looking; he'd even seen him attentively examining some Puruvian Instant Darkness Powder.
Their mother kept mostly quiet—which was typical when she wasn't happy with a situation but also couldn't change it. She stayed on the twins for leaving their boxes everywhere and sighed quite loudly when they let things pile up in places they shouldn't have been; otherwise, she didn't bother to comment on the shop at all. She did, however, let them know how it really wasn't necessary for them to move.
"Only mum could tell us our boxes and test explosions are driving her mad, but then turn around and claim she'd love for us to stay here forever," Fred had said.
The twins did manage to get into their premises a month earlier than planned. It was a great location, not far from the beauty shop Fleur lived above, and they were clearly elated to see their dreams materializing in front of their eyes. They did most of the work on their own, but people would come by to help them, including Bill and some of the Order members.
Fleur came as well and seemed to relish buzzing around the stop and decorating. She didn't quite understand much of the merchandise—especially after Fred attempted to explain U-No-Poo to her—but she enjoyed organizing displays and helping make the place look colorful and flashy, seeing as that was explicitly what Fred and George wanted.
"Zat color will clash terribly wiz zeir red hair," Fleur told Bill one afternoon after the twins had showed off their brand new magenta robes rather proudly. "Do zey not care?"
"They do not. I'd go ahead and wager they planned it that way," Bill said, grinning as he watched his brothers parade excitedly around the now nearly stocked and finished shop.
"Wotcher!" called a voice that had traveled from the shop's upstairs landing. When he and Fleur looked up, Tonks was waving down at them with her bubble gum pink hair highly visible where she was standing. Bill wasn't even aware she was here.
"How long have you been up there?" Bill asked, watching as she descended the stairs toward them.
"The lads put me on organizing some shelves, so about an hour," she said, stumbling over the last stair as if not realizing it was there. She fell forward and bumped into a display of Skiving Snackboxes that Fleur had just set up. Several of the boxes from the top fell to the ground.
"Oh, bugger," Tonks said, reaching over to pick some up, but knocking a few more down in the process. "I'm sorry."
Fleur smiled a little tightly, but immediately pulled out her wand. "I will do zat…"
Tonks awkwardly set down one of the boxes and stepped back, letting Fleur go about fixing it. She turned to Bill and threw him a sheepish shrug before changing the subject. "How are you two? It's been a bit."
It had. Bill of course saw Tonks regularly at Order meetings, but Fleur had only met her on a handful of occasions since that wild first encounter at the Leaky Cauldron. It had been Tonks who had introduced herself on their first proper meeting as the girl Fleur had assumed Bill was stepping out with that night. That had not only uncomfortably reminded Fleur of her behavior, but it also left her tremendously confused. Tonks looked nothing like that girl.
"Yeah, we're a rare bunch," Tonks told her after explaining her Metamorphmagus abilities to Fleur. As she spoke, she changed several of her facial features around. "I've never met anyone else like me."
Fleur had seemed shocked and slightly awed by Tonks' gift, though other than commenting that if she had that power, she would "certainly rezink ze pink 'air since it does not work wiz 'er skin tone," she seemed far more keen to know what Tonks did with her ability more.
"She's an Auror," Bill told her after that initial meeting. "I'm told it comes in extremely useful."
"Of course," Fleur had said. "I assume it comes in very useful for ze Order too?"
"Yeah. I mean, you saw her that night at the Leaky."
Fleur had nodded, already asking several other questions about Tonks now that she knew another person—a non Weasley person—who was part of the Order. Anyone that Fleur even suspected as being a member, she suddenly had a very acute interest in and would make it a point to speak to them when she could. Tonks, for example, would get questions about the things she'd seen and done as an Auror, almost as if Fleur was gauging her toughness and abilities. Bill sensed that Tonks—as a similarly aged woman who had been invited to the Order—was sort of template for Fleur. Something she could take notes on and attempt to measure up to since—if Tonks could be in the Order, why couldn't she?
And it had only taken Remus one or two visits by the shop for Fleur to now suspect he was also a member of the Order. She'd noticed he and Tonks seemed friendly enough—always chatting and coming and going together—and declared to Bill one evening that if Remus wasn't in the Order, then he was in a similar position to her.
"A similar position?" Bill has asked her. Her attempting to crack all these Order secrets was beginning to become one of her favorite hobbies.
"Because 'e shares a closeness to Order members," she said as she sat and fixed her hair in a mirror in her flat. "But it iz possible zat he iz not a part…yet." She turned back to look at him. "Just as I am not."
He laughed, watching her as ran her hands through her hair. She looked extra gorgeous right now and he was wondering why she was well across the room when she could be over here with him.
"Hey, come over here and sit."
She continued to play with her hair, looking as if she hadn't heard him. "Also, he looks exhausted. Per'aps zat means zey 'ave 'im on night watch all of ze time?"
She wasn't wrong about that—Remus probably did end up on night watch more than most—but she'd also seen him just after the full moon. Remus always looked like shit after the full moon.
She finally moved away from the mirror and came to join him on the sofa. They'd been having a flirty sort of night—the kind that usually led to far less clothes and much more noise—so he adjusted himself so he was now facing her; already reaching out to start rubbing her leg to get her in the mood. However, instead of the reciprocated touching and kissing that usually followed, he instead got—
""As anyone 'eard or seen anyzing from Dumbledore recently?"
He looked down at where his hand was currently on her thigh. Why were they talking about Dumbledore?
He moved closer and let his hand wander a bit more. "No. He's still in hiding."
She suddenly sighed out of frustration. "No one 'as 'eard from 'im?"
He retracted his hand. He knew with that, if anything was happening tonight, it wasn't happening right now. He instead leaned back into the sofa and watched her. "Why the interest in Dumbledore?"
She glanced back at him; her pretty eyes scanning his face for...something. He wasn't sure, but he suddenly felt concerned. It felt as if she wanted to deliver bad news, but he couldn't think of what would warrant that expression.
"I 'ave somezing to tell you," she said.
"Alright." He sat up straighter, feeling as if he had to brace himself. Fleur didn't usually preface things. She usually spoke her mind without warning.
She turned to face him directly. "I 'ave been writing letters to Dumbledore for ze last several weeks." When she clearly noticed his expression flash, "Why?" she added, "To ask 'im to allow me to join ze Order."
She was watching him for a reaction, though all she got was a slight adjustment on his "Why? " face from before. It was now more of a "Why?" with an " Are you serious? " overlaid.
"I 'ave sent him five letters, but I 'ave not received a response."
He opened his mouth to speak, but quickly shut it. It was one thing when she was playing this Order detective game with him, speculating—usually correctly—who was in the Order and what role they played, but to actually write to Dumbledore when she didn't even know for sure that he was in charge? When she was just assuming?
A hundred thoughts now swirled through his head. Had she explicitly mentioned the Order? What had she said? How much had she said? Had she said anything that could have got him in trouble? Her in trouble? The Order in trouble?
"Why?" he finally asked, taking a slow breath.
"Because ze squeaky wheel gets ze grease," she said. "It was time for me to take charge of zings. Nozing was 'appening—"
"Not for lack of trying," he said. "I was trying—"
"I know zat," she said. "But zere iz no reason for you to be trying when I am perfectly capable—"
"You don't even know if Dumbledore is in charge."
She threw him a look. "Yes, I do. Charlie told me."
"He what? "
"Well, 'e did not tell me," she said with a wave of her hand, "but 'e did not deny it as you do..."
Bill pulled himself up off the sofa, suddenly feeling the need to walk. He felt several things at the moment: annoyed with his brother, blindsided by Fleur, confused at what was happening, apprehensive of what Dumbledore was thinking now that Fleur was apparently pestering him with letters about the Order.
"I did not say anyzing wrong," she said, watching him as he paced around. "What could I say even if I wanted to? You do not tell me anyzing."
"Did you mention the Order?"
"Not explicitly. Do you zink I am an idiot?"
"I don't know what I think you are right now…" he said.
As soon as he had, he immediately regretted it. He could see that look of fire spring into her eyes as if someone had cast Incendio directly into her eyeballs.
"You should zink," she began to say as she stood slowly from the sofa herself. "Zat I am a person who gets zings done. Zat I confront a challenge and do not wait for ozers to do it for me. Zat is what you should zink."
He sighed. "And I get that, Fleur, but this is a delicate situation."
"Which is why I 'andled it delicately!"
"Owling Dumbledore directly is not 'delicately'…"
She rolled her eyes. "You are acting as if I went to 'is doorstep and confronted 'im at 'is 'ome."
"I'm starting to think that if you knew where he was, you would have."
She let herself smile a little at that, as if she wouldn't put it past herself. "If zat iz what it took…"
He let himself both sigh and groan at that, which only prompted Fleur to scoff. "Bill, zis iz not about you, so I do not see why—"
"How is this not about me?" he asked. "You're my girlfriend. He's...for lack of a better term, my boss. What you do reflects upon me."
Her eyes flashed that fire again. "And what exactly 'ave I done zat you wish wasn't reflected upon you? Send a few owls? Does zat make you look bad?"
"When they're badgering him—"
"I am not badgering 'im! It iz a letter! 'E can zrow it in ze bin if 'e does not want to read it! 'Ow iz zat badgering?!"
"It wasn't one letter, it was apparently multiple..."
Her expression grew tight then; he immediately knew this was headed straight for a full blown row if they didn't stop. He needed to walk away; they both needed to think this over or else things would be said and feelings would get hurt. He didn't want that.
He turned away. "I don't want to do this right now."
"Of course you do not," she snapped back. "You never do. You are always so worried about ze boat being rocked—"
"No, I'm not," he said, turning back toward. "What the hell does that mean?"
She shook her head. "You never want to upset people. I 'ave countless examples, but even now you are more worried about Dumbledore being badgered zan my growing frustrations at not being included at somezing zat should 'ave been taken care of monz ago!"
"I…" Bill stammered. "It should have. I agree, but what more could I have done other than what I did?"
"Nozing," she said matter-of-factly, "which is why it iz now about what I can do."
"But you're going about it the wrong way."
"Because it iz not your way, it iz ze wrong way?" She rolled her eyes and started mumbling to herself in French. When she did that she talked very fast, and his limited understanding could only ever pick up so much. He hated when she did that.
"If you have something to say, you don't have to hide it behind French."
She turned and glared at him. "Oh, but I would 'ate for my mere words to badger you. Because according to you, zat iz all zey are good for."
"I never said that," he said, his own voice rising. "Fleur, you really cannot see how writing to Dumbledore puts me in a shit spot?"
"And you really cannot see how not writing to 'im kept me in a shit spot? Or do you not care?"
"Of course I care."
"Zis iz caring?" she asked, sounding challenged.
He groaned and turned away. This was only going to get worse. Even after ten more minutes of this back and forth, they hadn't been able to see eye to eye that night. It was the same circular argument over and over. She didn't see how this was complicating things and making waves for him; he apparently couldn't handle her 'rocking the boat'—which she kept saying over and over again. Whoever had taught her that phrase he now wanted to curse.
It had got to a point where he knew all she wanted was to argue; she didn't want to solve this. It would be easier for him to leave for the night and let them both cool off until they could talk properly.
That idea wasn't something she argued. She even threw in a, "Fine! Go, zen. We 'ave nozing more to discuss, if you continue to see zis as an issue."
He wasn't usually keen on leaving arguments with his girlfriend on such a bleak note, but there was little civil discussion left to have. He would handle it tomorrow after things had calmed. In hindsight, that may have been a bad choice.
Fleur wouldn't talk to him the next day. She skipped any of their usual meetings at Gringotts and he couldn't track her down since he'd been pulled into the vaults by mid-afternoon. It wasn't until he could swing by her place after work that he even had a chance to speak to her. However, when he knocked—and knocked—there had been no response.
He'd apparently knocked for so long that Isabelle next door had popped her head out at one point to see what all the fuss was. When she saw him standing there, she threw him a rather objectionable look before snapping the door shut behind her. They'd always got on before—she usually flirted with him rather harmlessly—so it was clear she'd been talking to Fleur.
"With everything about the Order being so secret," Bill said later that day to the listening ears of Tonks, Remus, and Sirius once their Order meeting had wrapped, "Am I wrong for taking issue with her owling Dumbledore about that very secret? Doesn't that make me look bad? As though I'm someone who runs their mouth and can't be trusted around my girlfriend?"
"Did you run your mouth?" Sirius asked from his chair at the head of the table. "Can you be trusted around your girlfriend?"
Tonks threw Sirius a look. "Are you serious?"
"It's a valid question," Remus said, observing Bill with his arms across his chest.
"No," Bill said, feeling insulted that he had to ask. "I didn't. I couldn't if I wanted to. She's figured most of this out all on her own just by being around me and observing and being a good listener. She's the one who worked out that Dumbledore is in charge."
"Which isn't difficult to figure out," Sirius said. "That shows she's already more clever than half the Death Eaters. They need Voldemort explicitly telling them..."
"But it doesn't change that Dumbledore's got to think I'm some untrustworthy weak link," Bill muttered before he gestured to Remus and Sirius. "You two are questioning me just hearing this story."
Tonks shook her head. "If Dumbledore thought that, he'd have already dealt with you himself. Or got one of us to do it." She grinned at him. "It's part of my job description to know how to kill if necessary."
They all looked at her after that comment, with Bill chiming in, "That's not necessary."
She laughed. "If Dumbledore was angry about it, we'd all know."
"He would have messaged one of us and told us to get your girlfriend to quit it," Sirius added.
"And as long as you claim she's being vague," Tonks added, "even if that was intercepted, no one would get much from it."
"She says it's all vague," Bill muttered. "I didn't see the letters to be sure. I trust her not to be dumb about it."
"Well, if it were up to me," Tonks said. "I'd let her join today. She's obviously persistent and not afraid to do what needs to be done. She's got a quick draw, I remember that from the first time we met. And if she's gone this long without blowing anything up, then it seems she can be trusted."
"But you're not in charge," Remus said to her.
She looked up at him rather obviously, "You don't say…"
"No, that's Dumbledore's bag," Sirius muttered, yawning as he spoke. "But I agree with Tonks. Seems at this point it's smarter to have her here with us than out there writing potentially damning letters. And the next time I see him—whenever that is, I'll tell him that. Honestly, where's the harm in strengthening our numbers? That's what the Death Eaters are doing."
"If she hasn't been allowed in yet, obviously Dumbledore has his reasons," Remus said.
"Or he's just busy, Moony," Sirius said as he kicked his shoes up on the table rather casually and leaned back in his chair. "The man has a hundred things going on at any given moment—"
"Sirius!" Molly said from the other side of the room, where she was prepping for dinner. "Your shoes! People will be eating off that table! Honestly…"
Sirius stared at her for a moment before letting his gaze travel over to Bill. He seemed to be silently asking him what was up with his mother, though he slowly lowered his shoes off the table. "I'm in my own home…"
"It is gross," Tonks said.
Sirius rolled his eyes. "We definitely need more people around here. Some fresh blood." He looked back at Bill. "If Dumbledore cared about the letters, you'd already know."
It was a fair point; he would. This wasn't something worth driving a wedge into his relationship for, not when she hadn't done anything more than put herself out there for something he'd been promising her for months. She had to have been frustrated beyond words at the lack of action; of him carrying on while she sat around and waited. It honestly should never have surprised him that she'd eventually take things into her own hands. Her tenacity was one of things he loved about her.
But even when he tried to apologize, she still didn't want to talk to him. She kept avoiding him at work and not answering her door when he came around. This went on for two more days, and he was starting to think things were really fucked. They'd never gone this long not speaking to each other after an argument.
"Things are probably very difficult for her right now," his father said to him one night after Bill finally opened up to him about everything that had happened the last few days. He'd mentioned he and Fleur had a little falling out, but after three days of sleeping at home, it was becoming obvious this was more than a minor row.
Bill stared into the fireplace in the sitting room, but said nothing. His father wasn't wrong. Along with just the general frustrations about being left out from the Order and the trauma she'd revisited from the Quibbler interview, the actual anniversary of the tournament was quickly approaching the following week. She'd been tense lately because of it, though hid it well enough. She'd been sleeping like shit too, though again, also tried to hide that despite Bill witnessing her thrashing around in her sleep.
He'd known it was coming and he knew it was affecting her, but he hadn't taken it much into account the night they'd had that fight. He'd should have when he'd seen how quickly she'd become fired up—he hadn't seen that side of her since they first started dating—and at how dismissive she'd been. If he hadn't been so caught up in the moment and actually thought about it, he would have handled things very differently that night.
"I don't know what to do," Bill muttered, rubbing his eyes in an exhausted way. "She won't talk to me."
"She will," his father said, sipping on tea from his seat across the room and flipping a page in the Prophet. "I hope so at least, because I would hate for this to do you two in. You seem very happy together." He paused for a moment. "I won't lie, I half expect you to tell me you're proposing any day now whenever we sit down and have one of these chats."
Bill grinned a little lazily. "I don't think I'm far off from doing it."
"I assumed as much."
"If she'll have me," he muttered. "She'll have to talk to me again first…" He stared into the fire, watching the flames for a long moment. "I was thinking, if she and I smooth this over—"
" When you smooth this over," his father corrected. "Positive thinking, Billy."
"When," Bill said, smiling a little and turning to look at him. "That I should take her away for a weekend to distract her from the tournament stuff. A mini-break to get her mind off things. Somewhere near the sea, because she grew up near the sea and finds it calming."
"That sounds lovely," he said with a nod of approval. "I think you should. It would help distract her and you can mend this rift with some proper alone time." His face grew pensive for a moment. "You should look into the cottage. The one that belongs to your mother's aunt and we used to visit on holiday when you all were smaller. Remember?"
"Shell Cottage?" Bill asked, having not thought about that place in years. It had been in his mother's family for ages and had been the only place they ever visited on holiday once the numbers in their family increased. They never could afford lavish—or even moderate—holidays, but Bill would have never known it when he was younger since that cottage had always felt like an exotic destination. Even if he had to be crammed into a small bedroom with Charlie and Percy for days on end, he still had fond memories of running by the sea or getting told off by his mother for getting too near the cliffs.
His father nodded. "Your mother was talking about it not long ago, saying her aunt doesn't have much to do with it anymore. She's older now and prefers her place in the country, so it sits unused most of the time. Your mum keeps saying we should go out and have a bit of a holiday ourselves, but…" He shrugged. "Life keeps getting in the way."
Bill found himself lost in thought at hear that. It did tick all the boxes. It was seaside, it was mostly secluded from the world, and it would provide a very romantic backdrop. He could already picture having a fire lit, the two of them not fighting and all being well in the world again. She would love that. He would love that.
"That would be perfect," he said more to himself than to his father, wondering how he could work that out.
He would speak to his mother, who would speak to her aunt; they'd quickly put something into motion so that hopefully when he could get Fleur to speak to him again, he'd be able to surprise her with a plan to spend the anniversary of the third task in a place far more scenic than locked up in her flat.
Now he just needed her to talk to him.
The following day, the day he was set to start his vampire hours and allowing him the morning off, he'd decided to attempt to swing by her flat on what he knew would be her lunch hour. If she was avoiding all their usual haunts at Gringotts, he assumed she may have gone back to her flat to spend her time. He had plans to leave a note at the very least.
He knocked and waited, already fishing around in his pocket for the note he'd prepared that asked her when they could talk; before he'd found it, her door suddenly opened. Standing there, looking as beautiful as ever, Fleur stared back at him. She seemed surprised.
"Why are you not at work?" she asked him.
"I start my night hours today," he said, wondering if they were just going to ignore the elephant in the room and carry on as normal. "Why aren't you?"
"I just arrived 'ome. I 'ave not been to work in days."
He stared at her. "What?"
"I was in France."
" What? "
"I went 'ome," she said, as if her running off to another country on a whim shouldn't have surprised him. "After our argument, ze next day, I left. I needed to escape. Everyzing was too much and I wanted to see my family."
He looked away, his mind reeling now. Was she serious? "And you didn't think to tell me that?"
She shrugged. "I did not want to talk to you."
She did not want to...He inhaled slowly. "Fleur, I've been coming by every day. I thought you were avoiding me."
"I was," she said. "It was much easier to do in France."
Was she serious ? If she was looking for another argument, she could easily get one right now. He didn't know if he could just walk away this time.
But something in the back of his mind told him not to push it. To listen to what she was actually saying—that she'd needed to escape; that everything was too much. That she did not want to talk to him since he'd obviously been adding to her stress lately. Could he really be surprised she'd run from not only everything else, but him too?
She was dealing with shit right now, and running home to her parents when she was most upset was actually a normal reaction when he thought about it. Yes, it would have been nice to know, but he was really in no place to give her shit for not sharing with him everything she did. If they compared notes, he'd lose that battle every time.
She was staring at him, daring him to say something and set in motion more conflict that she was ready to battle out. She'd been so defensive lately and he'd responded by matching her, which kept getting them into this mess. He didn't want to fight with her anymore. He wanted to be there for her and help get her through everything that was "too much."
He finally sighed. "Well, I'm really glad you came back. I missed you."
She continued to stare at him, though her face softened a touch.
"I'm sorry for the other night and for getting upset, because you're right. I can't stop you from doing what you feel is best for yourself. It's not fair to you."
She was still staring at him, though her eyes were now looking teary. She looked as if she was trying to hold her emotions in.
He stepped forward and gently placed his hands on her arms, which moments ago he wouldn't have dared doing. "And I don't want you to feel as though you have to run away from me."
She was strangely quiet as a few tears dropped onto her face. She slowly did step forward and let him wrap his arms the rest of the way around, hugging her. As soon as he said, "Fleur, I love you," she started to cry.
"It 'as been so difficult lately…"
"I know."
"Ze nightmares, ze anxiety, knowing it 'as been a year and I 'ave done nozing—absolutely nozing—to 'elp."
"I know."
"Zen fighting wiz you," she said between sniffled, "dealing wiz your mozer…"
He kissed the top of her head. "I know. One of those things I can fix. And I will do whatever it takes to help with the rest. What I can promise though is that I won't stand in the way of whatever you need to do for yourself."
There'd been more crying and much more talking. They'd sat around most of that afternoon hashing out feelings, but he'd felt once they were done that the two of them were back closer to where they needed to be. He honestly felt that they may have been better than before; stronger somehow, but that may have been wishful thinking. The next week approaching the third task's anniversary would be hard, but as far as he was concerned, there was nothing the world could throw at them that they couldn't handle.
Apparently though, the world was going to test that theory. Starting as early as that evening.
"I should probably be getting to work," Bill said to both Fleur and Tonks as he checked his watch, already dreading his evening in the vaults. Fleur had the rest of the week off, so that would make the new schedule adjustment a bit easier. He'd told her about their mini-break that weekend, which had made her smile. Looking forward to that made the week seem more bearable.
"I need to go too," Tonks said. "I'm headed over to you-know-where with Moony to keep Padfoot company. Should be a quiet night."
"I would love a quiet night without goblins," Bill said, watching as Fleur finished the final touches on her display. He'd give anything to have a boring night with her after the last few days. "But I'll have to settle for this weekend." He looked back at Tonks. "Fleur and I are getting away. Just the two of us. We need it."
Tonks smiled rather sweetly. "Aw, that sounds so romantic." She suddenly frowned a little. "I need some romance in my life…"
"With as much as you work, you'll have to find someone in the Auror department or else you'd never see them."
She shrugged rather lamely and muttered, "Meh."
"That or the Order," he teased.
She smiled a little that time, offering up a lazy, "Yeah. Maybe."
Bill proceeded to kiss Fleur goodbye and told her he'd pop by later; Tonks walked with him all the way through Diagon Alley until he got to Gringotts.
It was there they said their goodbyes, neither of them knowing that when they next saw each other, so much that they knew would have changed forever.
"What next?" someone asked, though Bill couldn't be bothered to notice who. He was too busy staring at Sirius' vacant chair at the dining table in Grimmauld Place, thinking about how he'd talked to him only a few days prior. He'd never imagined that would have been the last time.
"We wait for Dumbledore to turn up and tell us that," said Mad-Eye, who winced as he sat down, still nursing the injury he'd incurred at the Department of Mysteries days prior.
The Department of Mysteries….Bill only knew what the others had told him. He'd been locked away in the vaults most of the night, missing all the owls and communications that were attempting to call all members of the Order there due to a massive break in at the Ministry; one that incorporated both Death Eaters as well as Ron, Ginny, Harry and some of their other friends.
His own parents had been trying to reach him, though he might as well have been on another planet when he was in the vaults. His mother had gone so far as to seek Fleur out—only knowing that she lived above the beauty supply shop—but instead had pounded on Isabelle's door in the evening hours. When she eventually reached Fleur, she evidently looked like a nervous wreck.
"Somezing 'as 'appened," Fleur had told him the moment she'd opened the door at two o'clock in the morning to find him standing there. "Your mozer was upset. She did not tell me much, so I assume it was about ze Order, but she needs you to go 'ome right now."
Bill felt a cold wave of panic wash over him. "What do you mean? She didn't say anything?"
"Only zat somezing 'appened and people were injured. Tonks iz in ze 'ospital—"
"What?"
"And Ron and Ginny were 'urt—"
Now a cold tsunami of panic washed over him. "What the hell do Ron and Ginny have to do with…?"
He stepped away from the doorway. Seriously, what did Ron and Ginny have to do with anything that would also put Tonks in hospital?
"Your mozer said zey would be alright," she clarified, looking anxious. "But you—"
"I have to go," he said, knowing he was leaving her there with more questions than answers, but he was in the same spot and needed to get to the bottom of this. What the fuck was happening?
His parents had attempted to fill him in as best they could. Harry had been tricked by a vision—the same type he'd seen when Bill's father had been attacked by the snake—only now it had been of Sirius being held captive by Voldemort at the Department of Mysteries. Seeing as his father's vision had been real, Harry had believed the one about Sirius was too. He'd got Ron and Hermione to come along, as they always did. Somehow Ginny and a few others had as well.
They'd been met there by Death Eaters; the vision had been some sort of trick. What happened next, no one was sure since there were several versions of the story. All they knew was that Ron had been attacked by some strange creatures and been left with scars up his arms, Ginny had broken her ankle, and their other friends sustained various injuries as well. Harry had made it out mostly unscathed—physically, at least. Mentally was a whole other story.
This was largely in part due to the Order—those who answered the call—turning up just in time to help fend off the Death Eaters. Kingsley, Remus, Tonks, Mad-Eye and Sirius—most of whom had been at Grimmauld Place that evening just as Tonks said they would be. She'd been hit by a nasty spell, but was recovering. Mad-Eye had been roughed up as well, but claimed it hadn't been anything he couldn't handle. It had been Sirius who had been dealt the worst blow—having fallen through a mysterious veil, never to be seen again.
Bill couldn't even comprehend what that meant or what sort of fate that ultimately was, but he also wasn't sure he wanted to. All he knew was that Sirius was gone now. He wasn't coming back.
Voldemort was out in the open. From what Bill was told, Dumbledore had arrived and the two dueled in an epic fashion. It had been enough to drive Voldemort away for the time being, which was neither a loss nor a win. Dumbledore had saved lives that night; he'd also allowed witnesses—including Cornelius Fudge himself—to see with his own two eyes Voldemort in the flesh. It was more apparent than ever that Voldemort was now back.
And while Ron, Ginny, Tonks and all the others seemed to be on the mend, the Order was in a state of shock. Remus had barely turned up since that night, and when he did, he barely spoke. Bill's parents were shaken. It was yet another instance where Harry had been ambushed and Ron and Ginny had been hurt. His mother almost looked as if she could barely handle it anymore; she had been between Hogwarts and home three times since the incident, seeing as Ron's injuries seemed to be troubling her. She was convinced he would be permanently scarred all over his arms and she claimed she wouldn't be able to settle until she had him and Ginny back at home.
Everyone else seemed lost. The loss of Sirius made this all feel that much more real. They truly could die at any moment, and if they didn't, the person sitting next to them could. With the Ministry acknowledging Voldemort's return, so much was going to change now. No one seemed sure what the next step was.
"I'm still confused about what exactly Voldemort wanted in the Department of Mysteries since Dumbledore was never clear," Hestia was saying to Mad-Eye and Arthur in a low voice. Everyone was talking in low voices.
Bill looked away from Sirius' empty chair. He thought of Fleur, as he often did when he needed a happy thought, and knew she was home right now worried and apprehensive. She'd actually been amazing during the chaos of that night, especially considering he'd run off to get to the bottom of things and left her in the dark. As it turned out, she waited until first thing in the morning to turn up at the Burrow, where she immediately began making breakfast for what seemed like a small army—or a moderately large family.
She'd listened carefully to him and the twins—all of whom had been up all night—as they explained everything they knew; everything they didn't know. About how they'd lost a friend in Sirius and how no one could deny Voldemort now. If things had changed before, it was nothing compared to what was to come next. Voldemort was getting stronger. He was getting more brazen.
Their parents had been at Hogwarts checking upon the others, but when they'd returned later in the morning they'd seemed quite grateful that Fleur had stopped by and was lending a hand with day-to-day tasks. His mother had even thanked her repeatedly for making food—going so far as to compliment her on how good it was. Bill wasn't sure he'd ever seen Fleur look so surprised.
"Did you want to cancel out plans for ze weekend?" she asked him later that day, after he'd asked her to come to his room with him for some peace and quiet. He'd needed to get away and process the last twelve hours—he needed to sleep—and Fleur was the only one he could handle being around for any of that.
She was laying beside him, facing him on the bed as both of their heads shared a single pillow. He'd had his eyes closed and had been drifting off once she began brushing his face and arm gently with her fingertips, but he opened them then to look at her.
Fuck, it seemed like an eternity ago he'd planned for a mini-break away at the sea. That was supposed to happen in just a few days.
He shook his head and reached out to pull her closer. He didn't want to cancel. If anything he wanted to go more. Life was too fucking short—painfully short—to keep canceling plans and putting things off. He knew that now more than ever.
"No. I think we should still go."
She stared at him.
"I have a feeling things are only going to get harder," he said quietly. "We should enjoy the small peace while we can." He leaned his forehead onto her's, "And what we both need now is to get away from all of this shit we're dealing with. Just be us for a bit because this, and you, are the only things in my life that make sense right now."
This and her. They really were the only things in his life that made sense. That, combined with the fact that life was too short and things could change any moment, he was starting to wonder what was the point of waiting on anything when they weren't even guaranteed a tomorrow? He needed to live in the now while it was there to be lived in. What was the point of waiting for anything?
Back at Grimmauld Place, the sound of people outside the kitchen caused Bill and everyone else in the room to glance toward the door. Kingsley had arrived, and right behind him, Dumbledore appeared in the flesh for the first time in months.
It was almost as if the entire room inhaled at the same time. Bill evidently wasn't the only person surprised to see him.
Dumbledore paused at the head of the table, looking from face to face with heavy eyes and a pronounced frown. Without speaking, he conjured several goblets from a nearby cupboard to fly through the air toward each and every person present. As soon as they had, the goblets began filling themselves halfway with a brown liquid until they suddenly ceased. Dumbledore lifted up his cup first.
"To Sirius," he said. "A life marked by tragedy and loss, though he would not have wanted to readily admit to that. Quite the contrary, in fact. I feel he would have expressed that his life—the better parts of it—was filled with the things that some people could have only ever wished for. True friendship and purpose."
He paused. "That is how I feel he should be remembered. Not by the tragic events that plagued him, but rather the effect he had on the people who loved him. The bravery he exhibited every chance he could. A true Gryffindor if I'd met one."
He raised his glass even higher. "To Sirius."
Everyone else lifted their glasses and followed suit. "To Sirius."
It was silent for a long moment after everyone drank. No one seemed to know what to say and were defaulting to Dumbledore to lead the charge. He, however, seemed almost lost in thought, gazing upon a rack of pans just overhead.
"Sir," said Emmaline Vance, her voice cutting through the silence. "About what happened at the Ministry..."
"I will share the details of what I can once—and once only," Dumbledore said, lowering his glass and scanning the room. "After that, we have far more pressing matters to discuss…"
It had felt like their longest Order meeting to date, though that could have perhaps been due to the heaviness in the air making minutes feel like hours. People wanted answers that Dumbledore didn't always have; plans were discussed about how now that the Ministry acknowledged Voldemort, it would need to be given even more protection. He would be infiltrating more as soon as he could; he had already started.
Fudge would be out soon enough, replaced—based on Kingsley's intel—by Rufus Scrimgeour, former head of the Auror department. Bill couldn't help but notice Mad-Eye rolled his eyes at that.
When all was said and done, new roles were given since everything had now shifted. Bill was told to pay even closer attention to the goblins and the coming and going of Gringotts. Voldemort would be trying harder than ever to get in with the goblins, and Dumbledore reiterated how Gringotts was a perfect place to keep things of importance tucked away safely.
"Do you think he's hiding something, sir?" Bill asked.
"Oh, I'm positive he's hiding many things," Dumbledore said rather cryptically. "However, I can't claim to know the gravity of what quite yet."
Missions and watches were being pulled away from the Department of Mysteries and onto people, including the Muggle Prime Minister for fear of Voldemort getting to him. Harry would have to be monitored at his aunt and uncle's home around the clock initially, though Dumbledore claimed he wouldn't be there for long this summer.
"I have a task for Harry that I will need him to accompany me on relatively soon, but once that is complete, I am hoping I can count on the Burrow to welcome him for the remainder of the summer."
"Of course," Bill's mother had said eagerly. His father had added, "He's always welcome."
The message was now loud and clear. Nothing was safe and they shouldn't feel otherwise. Voldemort was no longer in the shadows, he was out to kill and conquer. Before the other night, each mission had been a task; now each mission was a potential last day on Earth. With Snape's newest intel, Dumbledore claimed that Voldemort knew who many of them in the Order were now; the ones he didn't, he would find out soon enough.
Molly looked ashen in the face after that. He could see her whisper something to her husband about Fred and George; Bill had to assume that she was now terrified of them looking like sitting ducks in their flashy, brightly colored store in the center of Diagon Alley. He had to admit, he was a little worried on their behalf too.
"Speaking of Fred and George," said Dumbledore, as if he'd overheard their conversation loud and clear instead of it being carried on in hushed whispers. "I do hope I can count on them to join up now with the Order since—as I've been informed—they've finished their education?"
"They have one way or another,"Arthur offered a little heavily, "But yes. We've spoken to them about it and they are keen. If you feel they're ready, Albus, then I'll let them know."
Dumbledore nodded. "I feel they're more than ready."
Bill sat straight up. Hold on, then. If Fred and George were invited, then there was absolutely no reason Fleur shouldn't be as well. As far as he was concerned, he was getting an answer tonight about whether or not she could join; if for some reason the answer was no, then he wasn't going to let Dumbledore leave until he'd changed his mind.
"Sir," Bill said, speaking up then. "I'd like to ask about—"
"Miss Delacour?" he said, cutting him off mid-sentence with a small smile. "Yes, I thought you might. It has been ages since our last conversation about her, which is regrettable. I'm sure that has caused her, and you William, a bit of strife. I apologize for that."
"I…" Bill began to say, nodding a little, "Yes, sir. But—"
"I have been a miserable correspondent, I'm afraid," Dumbledore continued, a little amusement in his tone. "As I'm sure you're aware, she has been writing to me. I must say, I found her letters compelling. She certainly has a conviction in her writing."
Bill wished he could agree, but he'd never read any of those letters. All he could do was nod, seeing as he expected nothing less from her.
Dumbledore suddenly reached into his pocket and pulled out a rolled up piece of parchment that was tied with a small purple string. He examined it for a moment before looking back at Bill. "If you don't mind, please give her this along with my apologies for my poor communication."
He handed the small scroll to Vance, who handed it to Diggle, who then passed it to Bill.
"That, of course, is the address here to Grimmauld Place," Dumbledore continued, "where, as soon as she reads it, she will be allowed to join us here for meetings as a member. It is of utmost importance that the parchment is destroyed as soon as it's read, William. I'm sure you understand."
Bill nodded. He understood loud and clear. Around the room, there was a general hum of approval; many people smiling since they'd all heard Bill speak to wanting Fleur to join the last few months. His father gave him a wink from across the table and his mother stared at him a bit blankly, but ultimately did nod.
He looked down at the small scroll in his hand, knowing that this would mean the absolute world to Fleur. It had finally happened. She'd finally got her invitation and she'd done nearly all of the work herself. Her letters had worked. Dumbledore wouldn't have turned up with his scroll here today had it not been for them. He wouldn't have already had this on his to-do list.
He smiled the more he looked at it. She was going to go mental; he could not wait to tell her right after—
He stopped, having had a sudden thought. A selfish part of him wondered if he should wait just one more day to tell her. They would arrive at Shell Cottage tomorrow evening and this could be the proper surprise she needed after this week; after this year. After all, this was all too important to simply run home to hand her. It needed a bit of a ceremony; a bit a moment.
He wanted to give her that moment. And in that instant, he now knew exactly how.
If he was honest with himself, he'd know for ages.