"Your mother was very quiet," Fleur said as she and Bill Apparated into Diagon Alley after dinner. "I do not know if that was a good or a bad thing."
"Good," he said as the pair of them walked down the cobblestone street toward her building. "It was a good thing."
"She likely had many objections and did not know which one to focus on," Fleur said, noticing that many of the shops that were usually open later were already closed for the night. That seemed strange.
"My mum has no problem speaking her mind," he said, "so if she had something to say, we'd hear it. I've seen her fly off the handle plenty when she was upset, but this was different. I'm choosing to see it as a good thing."
They continued to walk past the many closed shops, when suddenly they passed a group of three cloaked men that were congregating around a lamppost. They stuck out not only for being in all black, but also because their cloaks were far too heavy for the temperature. It was summertime, but they looked as if they were in the dead of winter.
Fleur quickly had an overwhelming feeling of being watched—which she wasn't unused to, though this time she felt the hairs on her neck stand up. There was a creepiness there that her instincts didn't like.
She purposely turned then to look at them to let them know she was aware of their presence. Two seemed distracted by their own conversation; the other made a rather repulsive kissy face at her.
She reached down to place a precautionary hold on her wand before picking up her pace.
"Did you see the men in the cloaks?" she asked Bill once they were nearing her building, a safe distance away. "Back there?"
"Bit warm for cloaks," he muttered. "But yeah, I did." He turned and looked behind him. "I've noticed more and more strange types around the Alley lately."
It was true; she had noticed them too on her walks to and from the bank. It was getting to the point where she felt she'd be more comfortable Apparating straight from her flat to Gringotts and cutting out her walk entirely, but she hadn't quite got to that point yet.
Isabelle had noticed it too, having mentioned earlier that day that some of her fellow shopkeepers were saying certain groups were becoming a nuisance. They would walk into shops and demand things; when they were rebuffed, they would damage merchandise or make threats. They steered mostly clear of her shop so far—"Despite them all needing a good hair potion to wash their filthy looking hair!"—but Isabelle apparently wasn't going to take chances. Right after Fleur had told her about her engagement, Isabelle had informed her that she would be going back to France for the remainder of the summer.
"I am in no rush to renovate and tear the wall down," she'd told her. "So if you would like to remain in your flat, you do not need to leave quite yet. Take the summer."
"You are leaving for the entire summer?" Fleur had asked.
Isabelle had nodded, using her wand to clean up a mess of potion that she'd spilled on the counter just minutes earlier. "There is bad energy in the air and I do not like it. I have been meaning to go and visit home for some time, and now seems like the perfect opportunity."
"What about the shop?"
"I will close it down," she said. "Business has been slow. People aren't coming here, or to many of the shops, lately. I am telling you, ma choupinette, there is change in the air." She sighed. "Hopefully when I return, this strangeness will have passed."
As much as Fleur hoped for the same, she sensed that this change was only the start. This was the beginning that Bill often talked about. Isabelle was right: you could feel it in the air. It wasn't pleasant and it was growing more unwelcomed every day.
"Do you even want to stay in your flat now?" Bill asked her as they walked up the stairs toward her front door.
Fleur sighed. "It is nice to not feel obligated to leave, but I feel that if I stay, nothing will change. I will be here, you will still be at the Burrow—"
"Technically," Bill said. "But it's not as if I'm not always here."
She smiled as they reached the top of the stairs. "Yes, but I was excited for us to live together."
He reached over and pulled her toward him, wrapping his arms around her. "And we will. We're going to live together forever. You might soon wish for the days where you got a bit of your own space."
She grinned up at him as she placed her hands on her chest and let herself kiss him quickly. "That is not possible."
They kissed again and she could feel him smile against her mouth, though that smile was soon lost when their kissing grew more heated and their lips became busier.
She was already attempting to find her wand to open the door and let them spill inside, when the sound of Isabelle's door opening quickly caught her attention. She felt even more rushed to get her door open and get inside before banal small talk killed the mood, but she couldn't quite reach her wand in time. Especially since it wasn't Isabelle who had exited her flat.
"Fleur!" came a young sounding voice.
Fleur peeled off Bill and swung around so quickly that she lost her balance, stumbling over his foot to the point where he had to reach out and steady her. What she saw was as much of a trip as the one she'd nearly just taken. Standing there, with a smile on her face, was Gabrielle.
"Tu es à la maison!" Gabrielle said, happy to see she was home. She ran forward to hug her, which Fleur barely managed to return out of shock. What was happening?
"Que fais-tu ici?" Fleur asked her sister, staring straight down at her and wondering what she was doing here. Why was she standing here? How did she get here?
"Is this…?" Bill asked, gesturing to her. "Your sister?"
She nodded, asking Gabrielle again what she was doing here. Gabrielle was a little surprised Fleur didn't seem to know she was here; she was under the impression that their mother and father had told her they were coming after they'd spoken to Isabelle earlier. They had heard she was engaged and then immediately decided to get a Portkey to come visit.
"Vas-tu te marier?" Gabrielle asked her with a curious smile, wondering if the engagement news was true. She suddenly looked at Bill. "Est-ce que c'est lui?"
Fleur nodded again. Yes, that was him and yes, she was engaged, but her mind was now too busy to focus on these questions. Her parents had heard the news and caught a Portkey here? Just like that? They were here? That was madness.
"What's she saying?" Bill asked Fleur, the French clearly lost on him.
"She said that my parents…" she began to say, though stopped when she looked up to see her mother having emerged from Isabelle's flat then; her father directly behind her. Both of them were unsmiling.
"Maman? Papa?" Fleur asked, still shocked to see her family standing...here. Unannounced. In England. "Que fais-tu ici?"
"Que fais-tu ici?" her mother repeated, her tone very much questioning whether she truly needed to answer why they were here. She was clearly under the impression that Fleur should already know.
And she did know, she simply couldn't believe it. She looked over at Bill anxiously. He looked equally as surprised, though also very confused.
Isabelle appeared from her flat then, waving everyone down as if she was walking into some sort of hostile environment and was trying to squash the tension. Which...was she? How cross were her parents at the moment? What did she know that Fleur didn't?
"I am sorry," Isabelle said, walking over to Fleur with apologetic eyes. "Your parents saw that you had tried to contact them earlier and when they couldn't get ahold of you, they contacted me. I told them about your engagement…"
"You told them my news?" Fleur asked, feeling rather betrayed. Even if her parents were angry, that was her angry news to tell them.
"Darling, I practically raised your father," she said earnestly. "I cannot keep something like that from him." She frowned. "You'll understand one day when you have children of your own."
"Est-ce arrivé?" her mother then practically shouted. "Es-tu enceinte? C'est pour ça que tu t'es fiancé?"
Gabrielle's jaw dropped at that. Fleur immediately shouted back, "Non, Maman!"
"What's happening?" Bill asked slowly.
"Oh," Isabelle said, looking eager to clarify, "Apolline wanted to know if children is what this is all about. If Fleur was pregnant and that's why you two are now engaged."
Bill immediately shook his head. "No. I...no. That's not at all what..."
Isabelle reached over and patted him sympathetically on the shoulder. "Save your breath, darling. They speak as much English as you do French."
"This is madness," said Fleur, purposely in English since she felt insulted that her parents thought she would run off and marry someone just because she was pregnant—or that she would get pregnant before she was ready to be. She had more sense than that.
"I think you should all come into my place," Isabelle said gently. "And have a chat about things. That is all they want to do, Fleur. They are confused."
Given her parents' expression, a 'chat' seemed tame compared to what they looked like that wanted to have out with her. She was fairly certain the last thing they were going to do is chat.
She'd figured out by now that they were not only surprised by the news of this engagement, they weren't happy with it either. This was an entirely new direction for her and parents. They usually supported her choices in full. Entering the tournament? Full support. Moving to England? Full support. She couldn't even think of an example where they did not support her in what she wanted to do. This feeling was entirely new to her.
"Avez-vous rencontré Bill?" Isabelle suddenly asked Fleur's parents, inquiring as to whether they'd even met Bill before.
Fleur's father shook his head and stared at his daughter. "Non, Fleur ne nous a pas présenté," he said, his tone very short as he informed Isabelle that Fleur hadn't even introduced them yet.
"Well, then let us do that!" Isabelle said, smiling at Bill and Fleur and ushering them toward her door. "Let's all go and get very acquainted."
Fleur's parents did a lot of staring at Bill while Isabelle and Fleur did all of the talking. He had very little idea of what was being said—though he knew it was about him. All he had been able to contribute were a "Hello" and a "Lovely to meet you", which hadn't seemed particularly impressive. He was struggling to remember any of the other French he'd learned at the moment.
He did quickly figure out that Fleur's parents were not excited to be here, which if you had told him at the start of the day that his own mother would have had a better reaction to all of this than Fleur's, he wouldn't have believed it.
Neither of her folks seemed keen to meet him, which...he'd never experienced before. He always made excellent first impressions on people, but he had to assume they didn't see him as a person right now. To them, he was the man who they'd yet to even meet until today; the one who'd swooped in like an eagle owl and proposed to their daughter far too early in their relationship. He might as well have been an unwanted boil given the way her dad had sized him up.
"Yes, but a very handsome boil," Isabelle had offered once Bill had mentioned this to her. She and him were now sitting at her nearby table with Fleur's little sister, who was quietly eating biscuits. Fleur and her parents were sitting nearby on the sofas; the French flying so rapidly that Bill couldn't keep up if he wanted to. Isabelle was doing her best to translate.
"Apolline is telling Fleur it is much too soon to be getting married," Isabelle informed him, "while Fleur is arguing it is not. Then Michel wants to know what the rush is—"
A war, Bill thought to himself, but he didn't think saying that out loud would help their case. He simply waited for Isabelle to say, "And Fleur now wants to know why they think she is rushing."
"Je ne me marie pas demain!" Fleur blurted out.
Bill looked at Isabelle for clarification.
"I am not getting married tomorrow,"she told him, pausing to study his face. "When are you two getting married?"
"No idea," Bill mumbled, though given the conviction in the way Fleur had said that, he knew it wasn't tomorrow. He was watching her like a hawk, having never seen her like this before. Usually when she got angry, she let it all out. He could always see the fire ignite in her. But here—talking to her parents—he could see a battle waging within her. One minute she was fired up and shouting; the next, she'd be shrinking like a violet when her mother would set in on her. He'd never seen her shrink before.
Her father was speaking now and Isabelle quickly translated, "Michel says that she was home just last week and was angry and upset with living here and with you, but now he is to believe she wants to stay and get married. How is he supposed to understand her sudden change?"
Bill sighed. He hadn't thought about any of that since he and Fleur had reconciled. He could only imagine what she'd said last week when she'd run off, been fed up with him, fed up with the lack of Order progress, fed up with everything. Fleur wasn't exactly one to sugar coat things when she was upset.
He suddenly looked over at her little sister, who truly was such a miniature clone of Fleur with her identical blue eyes and silvery blonde hair. She was chewing on the edge of a biscuit, watching her parents and sister's back and forth almost as closely as he was.
He glanced back at Isabelle. "Will you ask her, " he gestured to Gabrielle, "how angry Fleur was with me last week? Scale of one to ten."
Isabelle didn't immediately look keen to do that, but ultimately must have decided there was no harm in it. She asked Gabrielle something in French, which made the little girl's eyes suddenly widen as if she were remembering something specific. She'd started nodding, looked at Bill, back at Isabelle, and then held up nine fingers.
Isabelle shot him a look; he inhaled slowly. Well, shit. No surprise her parents had turned up first thing if they assumed he was a jerk this morning, but now their daughter was engaged to him that afternoon.
"They just find it all very sudden," Isabelle said to him. "That is the main takeaway of all of this conversation. Fleur has always been a very bright girl with a good head on her shoulders."
"One of the many reasons I want to marry her," he said.
Isabelle laughed. "It is not me you have to convince." She looked back over at the small group of Delacours. "They have been concerned about Fleur since she moved here. After what happened to her last year...she's changed. Much of that is growing up, but some of it—such as running off to marry her boyfriend—is not." She looked back at him. "They love their daughter and only want what is best for her. You need to convince them that is you."
"I'd love to, but it's a bit hard to do when my French is really only a handful of phrases. I don't think I'm going to get very far if I'm limited to things like 'what's for dinner' and 'will you marry me?'"
Isabelle's face softened. "Aw, did you ask her in French? That was a lovely touch."
Bill shrugged a bit modestly, turning back to see Fleur's mother looking as if she was lecturing her about something. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Gabrielle was staring at him. He turned to her and smiled a little, hoping he could get one of these Delacours on his side. She returned the smile in a funny sort of way before looking back at her family.
"They're mostly rehashing the same things over and over again," Isabelle said to Bill, who had been about to ask what was being said. "She's young. It's too soon. They don't feel comfortable with her staying here in England now."
That last one caught his attention. "Why aren't they comfortable?"
Isabelle sighed. "That is probably my doing. I do not know if Fleur has told you about the happenings around the neighborhood? How the wrong sorts of people are lurking and causing all sorts of problems now."
He nodded. "She's mentioned it. Said you're closing up shop and leaving for the summer."
"It only makes sense," she said with a wave of her hand. "There's a feeling in the air that I don't like and I wish to avoid the trouble." She paused. "And as I am very close with Fleur's family, I have mentioned it to them as well. They're afraid Fleur's in danger staying here any longer."
His natural reaction had to be to shut that down straight away and tell her that of course she wasn't in any danger; that was ridiculous. But he also knew that wasn't the truth. Her parents were probably dead right in thinking that moving home would be a safer option—at least for now. If You-Know-Who gained any real power and did manage to get a hold on Britain, France would be one of the many next. It would catch up to them eventually.
"They were relieved when she told them she wanted to move home last week, but now all of this has happened and…" She shook her head. "They only want her to be safe."
"That's all I want," Bill said earnestly. "And I want them to know I'll do everything in my power to do that"
She smiled at him. "Again, darling. Not me you need to convince."
Fleur had to excuse herself back to her flat after an hour and a half of "chatting." Not that there was much to chat about, seeing as none of them could see eye-to-eye on anything. They apparently thought she was some sort of child who wasn't capable of making adult decisions—which was news to her since they'd always made her feel properly grown prior to today.
They'd of course denied all of this. They claimed they did trust her, but they weren't going to sit idly by while she ran off and married the first man she had serious feelings for; especially one she hadn't even been with for a year. Fleur had found all of it laughable. She and Bill were only three weeks away from a full year.
Her father had ranted thoughts along the lines of, You had wanted to come home just last week! You had wanted to break up with him just last week!
She had looked over at Isabelle after those comments, knowing she was translating for Bill. Her expression screamed, "Do not translate that," though she didn't even know whether she could trust Isabelle right now. Perhaps her prerogative was to let Bill know what she had been telling people at her lowest point; have him get upset that she'd thought about ending things, thus he'd want to end their engagement. She wasn't even sure Isabelle was her ally anymore after she'd run off to tell her parents this in the first place. As if it had been some secret instead of news she was happy to share herself.
And she'd told her parents repeatedly that last week she had been in a dark place, but they'd simply countered that they felt she was using this engagement as a quick means to get out of this dark place. She wasn't thinking straight; they just wanted her to properly consider things. Wait a bit longer.
How much longer, they wouldn't say—just "longer."
Her mother had ended the conversation by telling her they simply could not support this if she chose to go through with it anytime soon.
Fleur stared at her. What was that supposed to mean?
She'd left after that, and Bill had followed her into her flat once she'd excused herself. She was desperate for a moment to decompress and calm herself down. To get away from that ambush.
"You alright?" he'd asked her.
"No," she said, throwing herself into the nearest chair. "My parents are ridiculous. They are not only upset that we are engaged, but also that I am staying in England." She pointed to the wall toward Isabelle's flat. "Isabelle had been telling them how unsafe things are here. How things are changing." She shook her head and looked Bill right in the eyes. "They said if we get married soon, they will not attend. They will not let Gabrielle attend."
Bill inhaled slowly, looking a bit shook by that. "Shit…"
She felt tears welling up. She couldn't believe it had come to this. Her family meant everything to her, and to hear those words come out of her mother's mouth had been devastating. She truly had thought she was making the right decision, but to see them so opposed to this was making her wonder if she and Bill really were taking things too fast.
"You said 'married soon,'" Bill said slowly. "Not married...in general? Are they open to us eventually getting married? Or do they have an issue with me?"
"They had no comments about you," she said as she reached up and ran an anxious hand through her hair. "Isabelle performed one good act tonight and confirmed all my stories about you—how you are so clever and charming and you have a good job and are wonderful." She paused. "And they could see with their own eyes that you are as handsome as I've said you were. They simply think we are moving too fast."
"That's what everyone seems to think," he muttered. He threw her a sympathetic sort of look. "Do you think we're rushing?"
"Yes," she said. "Because we are not guaranteed tomorrow. That was the point." She looked away. "I do not see a difference between tomorrow or fifty years. I only know that I want to marry you."
"And I want to marry you," he said. "But...I mean, maybe knowing that is enough for now. You know?"
No, she didn't know. She had no idea what that meant and her expression clearly said as much.
"Fleur," he said, grabbing a chair and coming over to sit in front of her. "I know you want a proper wedding. You want the time to plan one, to have it in nice weather, to have all your family and friends there. I know how much that means to you—"
She sighed. All of that was true; she did want that. She, like many women, had visualized her wedding since she was a little girl. She'd wanted summer in Marseilles, near the sea with the warm breeze and the sunshine. She knew what flowers she wanted, what colors, what decorations, what foods, what music. She had the occasion so clearly pictured in her mind that essentially the only piece of the puzzle that had ever been missing was the groom. And now that even piece was accounted for, she had the full picture staring straight at her.
But those were dreams; not reality. There was no time to plan for all of that; life was coming at them too quickly right now. As of now, she was hoping for something small, intimate, and quick with the people closest to them. That had been the plan before her parents had dropped their ultimatum on her.
"We do not have time for any of that—"
"Says who?" he asked.
She stared at him as if he'd grown a second head. "You. You want to get married soon. We agreed."
His expression acknowledged he'd said that. "I did, but I've started to realize that while we're not guaranteed tomorrow, if we are allowed to have a real future together, we shouldn't burn bridges to get there."
She raised her eyebrow. She wasn't following.
"We want our families at our wedding and genuinely happy for us," he said. "We both want that. If that means that we may need to have a longer engagement before we get married…" He stopped to think about that. "Say, next year? If we take the time to plan a proper wedding, in France, with everyone we love—you in the white dress, with the cake, and the dancing, and everything that goes along with it. If that makes everyone happy, then why not do it that way?"
"Because you wanted—"
"I want you to be happy," he said. "I know the only way that's going to happen is if we do this right and your family is there. If we get married next spring or summer, that's an entire extra year by the time we say our vows. That's two years we've been together, and no one can say it's too soon then."
"But the reason you proposed was because we do not know what this war will bring and we didn't want to leave for tomorrow what can be done today."
"I did. But Fleur, you already said yes. If something happens between now and then," he smiled at her, "knowing you wanted to marry me can be enough."
She was confused. They'd been discussing just this morning about how they could plan something small by the end of the summer, but now he was talking about next summer?
"You are saying you are willing to wait now?"
"I'm willing to try," he offered. "I'm not ruling out getting married on the spot if the world is ending, but if waiting a bit makes our lives that much easier, then fuck it. Let's plan a big wedding that everyone will want to come to. It's what you've always wanted." He shrugged. "I look good in dress robes."
She smiled. "You look good in everything."
He leaned in then and kissed her. "No, that's you." When he pulled back, he seemed resigned to accept this new plan. "It'll be alright. Talk it out with your parents before they leave. Let them know we can do this the proper way. We can slow things down a bit. We'll work it all out."
Always the peacemaker. Always the problem solver. Always the level head. This was the man she was marrying. She was starting to see that he was doing this less for himself and more for the fact that he wantedeveryone to be happy. If everyone was happy, they would both be happier.
And truth be told, he was right about one thing: If something happened, knowing they both wanted the other to be their spouse could forever be a comforting thought. Their love was real whether they had that official piece of parchment or bonding magic.
There was a knock on her door then, which Bill thankfully stood to go and answer. She wasn't sure she could handle more of her parents at the moment, but it wasn't them. Standing there on the threshold in her blue dressing gown was Gabrielle. She smiled politely at Bill, but her eyes immediately went to Fleur.
"Puis-je dormir avec toi ce soir?" Gabrielle asked.
Fleur nodded. Of course she could sleep here. She wouldn't dream of turning her away after a night of—what had to be—serious confusion for her. She'd actually seemed excited about a potential wedding earlier on, but with all the shouting, she probably didn't know how to feel.
Fleur held out her arms, which Gabrielle immediately took to come and hug her tightly. When she pulled back, she seemed to be inspecting Fleur's face for something.
"Est-ce que tu vas bien?" she asked, sounding concerned.
Fleur smiled and nodded as she reached out and brushed Gabrielle hair out of her face. Yes, she was fine. She would be fine.
"I'm going to head home and let you and your sister properly visit," Bill said, still standing near the door. He'd either picked up on the cues or understood Gabrielle when she'd asked to stay, but Fleur was happy he'd figured things out without her even having to ask.
Fleur turned back to her sister, giving her nose an affectionate boop before asking her what she thought of Bill. It caused Gabrielle to turn back to look at him, smile, then turn back to Fleur. "On a pas trop parlé, mais il est sympa."
Fleur matched her smile. She agreed. He was very nice. She looked back at Bill before standing to see him out. "She thinks you are nice."
"That's sweet," he said with a smile. "Glad to have someone on my side."
She let her smile slip a bit. "Yes, at least one of our sister's approves."
Now it was Bill's turn to let his expression slip into something less playful. "I don't…" He sighed. "They'll all come around. Once all this sudden engagement dust settles, everything will work out. I promise you that."
They'd have to see if that were true, but she decided to be as optimistic as he was and believe his words. She leaned in to kiss him good night. "As long as it works out for us, that is all that matters."
Before Bill had left for the Burrow, he'd told Fleur he'd be back in the morning to try and get to know her parents better before they returned to France. She'd seemed happy to see him taking the initiative and told him she would have everyone ready for a less hostile sort of meeting in the morning.
He'd also decided he was going to put a rather complicated sort of protective curse on her and Isabelle's flat before he left. It was something he'd decided once he'd ventured back down to Diagon Alley and found yet another small group of cloak wearing individuals walking around with a lit torch for some reason. The sound of a woman cackling in an unrestrained way was what had unsettled him.
He doubled back up to Fleur's place to tell her about the extra security. It was the kind of magic they used at the bank to keep people out of vaults—one that you would have to be extremely well-versed in curse breaking to get through. He knew it well, seeing as he spent most nights at work trying to crack different variations of it. The one he'd used he'd known to be particularly difficult.
He'd be back in the morning to lift it, but knowing there was an added line of defense between whatever was brewing outside and Fleur and her family would help him sleep a little better than night.
He'd returned to the Burrow after that, anticipating that he'd find a mostly quiet house. His parents would still be deciding how they felt about his engagement while Ron and Ginny would be off to their own devices.
What he got was very different.
As he entered the kitchen, he found his parents, along with Tonks and Remus, all sitting around the table over cups of tea. There were papers spread out over the tabletop between them, as well as a dirty, empty plate sitting beside Remus. They'd all turned to look at him as he entered.
"What's going on?" Bill asked, giving the group a once over.
"Remus stopped by," his mother said, her tone not quite back to it's usual chummy cadence, but it wasn't as clipped as earlier. "He'd been visiting with Dumbledore earlier and missed dinner. Why are you home?"
He forced himself to let his expression remain neutral. "Fleur's family is in town."
His parents seemed surprised to hear that, with his mother asking, "Why didn't you say something earlier? They would have been more than welcome to come to dinner. I'd actually love to meet them and get their thoughts—"
"We didn't know," Bill cut in, forcing a smile. "They decided to make a sudden and surprise visit after hearing about the engagement."
"Oh…" said Tonks quietly, making an obvious face.
Both of his parents looked as if they could understand that. His mother even mumbled, "Well, can you blame them? I would have done the same thing."
"Bill, I hear congratulations are in order?" Remus said as Bill pulled up a chair between him and Tonks at the head of the table.
"Thank you, yeah," he said with a lazy smile. "It's terrific and we're excited, but after listening to very grumpy sounding French for the last hour and a half, I'd love to talk about something other than getting engaged."
His mother seemed to find a bit of satisfaction in that comment; her mannerisms silently giving off "you don't say…?" vibes. Clearly she was happy to hear she wasn't the only parental figure who took issue with this sudden engagement.
"What's all this, then?" Bill said, reaching down to pick up one of the papers. On it was a picture of Emmaline Vance, along with general stats and facts about her. He picked up the next one and saw a picture of his own father staring back at him. A quick scan revealed mostly known information—his job title, his age, his marital status, the names of all seven of his children. Bill read his own name twice.
"These are names that the Death Eaters' have collected as known associates of Dumbledore and the Order," Remus said, sliding a few more papers toward him—including Remus' own.
Bill began flipping through them. Remus. Alastor Moody. Dedalus Diggle. Hestia Jones. Kingsley Shacklebolt. Minerva McGonagall. Molly Weasley. Sturgis Podmore. Nymphadora Tonks. Rubeus Hagrid.
He stopped when his own face stared straight back at him under the name William Weasley.
"It's not only you," his father chimed in. "Everyone with the last name Weasley has got one." He suddenly held up a small stack on his end of the table. "We weren't sure if they were singling us out specifically or making a blanket assumption with the name, but I'm thinking it's the latter since even Percy's got one."
"Percy's got one?" Bill asked, which prompted his father to pass down to him his brother's paper. "He's got nothing to do with any of this."
"The Death Eaters don't care," Remus said. "To them a Weasley is a Weasley. It's all the more reason your brother needs to realize he's not safe doing what he's doing. The Order can offer him the protection that the Ministry sure as hell isn't going to."
"But what does all of this mean?" Bill asked.
"It means You-Know-Who is keeping very close tabs," Remus continued. "They know our names and you should be aware of that. They're getting bolder and coming out of the shadows. They're not as willing to lurk in the corners of Knockturn Alley anymore."
"Or on school boards of governors," his father quipped.
Bill immediately thought of the cloaked individuals and of everything Isabelle had told him earlier; about how people were messing with the shopkeepers and creating chaos in the streets for laughs.
"Fleur's landlady mentioned something about how things are changing all over Diagon Alley. She's planning on boarding up her shop for the summer and going to France to get away from it because she's got a bad feeling." He looked around at the rest of them. "She didn't say they were Death Eaters, but she may as well have. I saw what looked like some wandering around tonight."
Remus was already nodding. "I've heard the same thing. They're testing the waters now and they're only going to get worse because they're receiving little pushback. People are either fleeing, like your friend, or they're giving them what they want."
"Have Fred and George said anything about this happening at their shop?" Tonks asked, looking from Bill to his parents.
"Only that they have ways of dealing with troublemakers," Bill's father said slowly, his eyes fixed on a spot on the table. "They claim they wrote the book on that sort of thing, so if someone attempts to mess with them in their shop, they won't know what hit them."
Tonks smiled a little. "I wouldn't doubt that."
"There is no talking them out of it," his mother said with a frown. "Because business is booming. The world is crumbling, but they've found success. I don't understand it."
"You should visit the shop, Mum," Bill said, knowing she'd been purposely avoiding it so as to...well, he didn't know why. Perhaps she didn't want to admit she was wrong about things quite yet, but she had her reasons. "You'd see—"
"I'll see the shop soon enough," she interjected. "But as you've all just pointed out, Diagon Alley is not even a safe place at the moment. Nowhere is." She continued to frown. "It's another summer of hiding and keeping to the house just to keep us all alive."
"Even that's not guaranteed," his father added as an afterthought. It earned him a swat in the shoulder courtesy of his wife.
"Always a shame that war isn't more convenient for our social lives," Remus offered with a wry sort of smile. Bill's mother didn't find that particularly funny, though Tonks was grinning as if she did.
"You try telling the two teenagers I have upstairs they can't leave the Burrow for the next two months," his mother countered, before adding, "Though Harry will be here soon enough, which will help provide a distraction."
"Hermione coming as well?" his father asked her, suddenly flipping through the papers in his stack and pulling out a sheet with Hermione's face on it. "She may not be safe out there on her own with Muggles."
She nodded. "I agree, it's not safe for her right now. I'll tell Ron to write to her tomorrow and invite her to come and stay with us."
"If he hasn't already," Bill joked. "If you tell him she's in potential danger, he'll probably have the letter written and in the post before breakfast. Before sunrise."
Tonks threw Bill a funny sort of smile. In a whisper she asked him, "Did I miss something? Are those two…?"
"Yes? No? I don't know," Bill muttered. "I don't think Ron does either. He's a bit lost in the woods when it comes to that sort of thing."
"Weren't we all at that age?" Tonks asked.
Bill hummed a bit as if he couldn't quite agree with that, seeing as he'd always been good with girls, even at sixteen. It immediately prompted Tonks to scoff a bit before saying, "Oh right, sorry. Forgot who I was talking to. You'd have no idea."
He chuckled a little and looked back down at his own face staring back at him. He didn't recognize the photo, but it had to have been taken within the last year. He could tell because the robes he was wearing had been given to him by Fleur.
He saw his job title and age; his family listed out under "Known Associates", though he found himself pausing at the very tail-end of that where he saw Fleur's name listed. In parenthesis beside it, it said, "Girlfriend."
"Fleur's name is here," he said, looking back up at all the other papers on the table. "Does she have one of these on her own?"
Tonks was already shaking her head, while Remus said, "No. Outside of being listed there, she's not been mentioned. I don't think they consider her anything more than your girlfriend at the moment."
"Fiancée," Tonks corrected.
Remus threw her a look, but did smile a bit. "It seems their information hasn't been updated yet to include new members."
"But how do they know any of this?" Bill asked.
"Fleur being your girlfriend isn't a secret," his mother said. "None of the information on these sheets are private."
"But the fact that they have nearly every one of us listed is," Bill said. "There's making an educated guess—like assuming all the Weasleys are in on this—and then there's listing the entire Order exactly as it is." He looked over at Remus. "This makes me think someone is telling them who we are."
Remus said nothing for a moment, though he looked as if he was milling something over in his head. It was Tonks who said, "You think there's a spy?"
"We know there's a spy," Bill said, thinking then of Snape and how he was supposed to be playing the spy card for them. But how sure could they really be of his allegiances? Who was to say he wasn't playing both sides; waiting to see who was to come out on top and fleeing to the "winning" team at the right moment?
Snape only popped into certain Order meetings due to the constraints that working both sides put on him. Even when he showed up, he was mostly quiet—always the last in and first out. He preferred to have private meetings with Dumbledore at school and have his information relayed to the Order via Dumbledore, but Bill had never been entirely on board with any of it.
It could have been because Sirius had complained loudly and often about him. It could have been because Bill had residual animosity of having to sit in his Potions class for seven years and deal with his gruffness, despite being a top student. It could have been because he'd heard he'd only grown worse over the years given his treatment of his younger siblings and their friends. It could have been because he was a curmudgeon jerk, but he simply didn't trust Snape.
"Dumbledore trusts Snape," his father said.
"You don't find it odd that everyone is listed here?" Bill asked. "Fleur's the only one missing, and Snape coincidently wasn't there the day Dumbledore told everyone she was now a member. Someone's telling You-Know-Who this stuff and only one of us has a direct connection—"
"She's only been a member for a few days though," Remus offered. "This information isn't up to the minute." He suddenly reached over to grab a sheet that had been pushed to the side, flipping it over then to reveal Sirius' photo. "They clearly need to update their intel."
The room fell into another quiet lull, which caused Bill to sigh. Something about it still didn't sit right with him. Someone was lying and sharing information. They had to be.
"We have to trust Dumbledore," said his father after a moment. "And he trusts Snape. I think we've all got our reservations, but Dumbledore is in charge."
Bill's mother was nodding and they once again fell into a heavy silence. It took another long moment for Remus to announce that it was getting late and he probably should be going. This prompted Tonks to immediately say she should go as well and they could walk out together.
Bill helped them both gather up all the sheets of papers, most of which featured his own bloody family and unsettled him more than he wanted to admit. Something about seeing all of them—of himself—on some list that the Death Eaters had compiled was doing a bit of a number on him.
As soon Remus and Tonks left, Bill was left sitting in a rather stuffy silence with his parents. His mother went about tidying up tea cups, and it was evident they were all having similar thoughts. For Bill, after seeing Fleur's name on his sheet and remembering the cloaked figures out in the streets, it made him reconsider leaving her and her sister alone at her flat tonight. Yes, her family was just next door; yes he'd put some of the strongest spells he knew on their flats, but he would honestly just feel better being there.
But truthfully speaking, when was he ever going to be there in the coming weeks? He worked nights. Her family would be returning to France tomorrow; even Isabelle would be gone soon. That meant she would soon be entirely alone, her name recognized by Death Eaters, and residing in an area they were starting to parade freely about.
"You look lost in thought," his father suddenly said to him. "Are you alright?"
Bill sighed. "I was just thinking about how Fleur's landlady told her she could stay in her flat longer because she's leaving and not immediately renovating like she'd planned. And if she does, that means she'll be in Diagon Alley on her own most nights because I'm working."
His mother was already shaking her head after hearing that. "She shouldn't be alone. None of us should be right now, especially after seeing those names. It's dangerous. I don't even want the twins there."
"But at least there's two of them," his father offered. "That's what I tell myself."
"Didn't help my brothers," she said plainly before she turned away to keep herself busy. It caused both Bill and his father to exchange rather solemn looks.
"There's no way you can change your schedule at work?" his father asked him.
Bill shook his head. "The goblins don't give a shit about any of this."
"Well, she can't stay there," his mother said, turning back around. "You need to talk to her."
"And say what?" Bill asked. "Even if we left Diagon Alley, I still have to work nights. She'd still be on her own."
His mother was staring at him then, a strange sort of pensiveness playing in her eyes. She was the one who now looked deep in thought. Bill had been about to ask her if she was alright, but his father beat him to it.
"Molly, what's wrong?"
She took a slow, hesitant breath, letting her eyes travel up to the ceiling for a moment before back down onto Bill. "Well, then, I think she should stay here with us. She should move her things here, into the Burrow."
Bill and his father stared back at her. Did she say…? She wanted Fleur to...what now?
"Strength in numbers," she continued. "A house full of people when you're at work. Order business coming and going, so you'd both be closer to it all. And once Harry's here, you know this will become one of the safest places in England." She turned to her husband. "What do you think, Arthur?"
He honestly looked a bit shocked by the suggestion, though more due to the person making it rather than the idea. "You know I have no issues with any of that. If we can host all of Ron's friends, we can certainly take in our future daughter-in-law."
"And that's another thing," his mother added. "She will be my future daughter-in-law." She paused after that, as if saying it made it more real. "This could be a wonderful opportunity to get to know her properly. Also for her to get to know us." She put on a smile. "What do you think, dear?"
Bill didn't know what to think. He looked away from both of their prying eyes and stared at the kitchen door. He had to admit, he would feel loads better knowing she wasn't on her own at night while he was away. There was no one he trusted more than his family, so she'd be in excellent company. And his mum was right: once Harry arrived, this place would become one of the most protected places around. Even her parents would probably feel better about hearing that she was getting out of the city and away from all of Isabelle's concerns.
But he didn't know how to feel about Fleur actually living here with his family...with his mother. That could either turn out to be really great...or terrible. He wasn't entirely sure which; he wasn't sure Fleur would even be willing. It would certainly take some convincing.
But it ultimately was the safest option. And if she and him wanted them in the best position to actually make it to this wedding they'd now decided to put off until next year instead of being murdered in their beds, this was it.
"I think…" Bill said. "I need to talk to Fleur."