It had been a long night. People were parading around Diagon Alley, screaming, yelling, and being disruptive. When Fleur looked out the window, she saw some carrying torches and waving them around, laughing when people retreated from the obvious mania of it all. Several fights broke out, with spells and hexes flying in all directions. At some point she could hear multiple windows being broken down the length of the street, though she couldn't see where. All she knew was if she could hear it, so could her parents. This wasn't going to calm their nerves about her wanting to stay here.
Gabrielle had been scared when the fights broke out, but Fleur assured her they were safe. She'd even explained how Bill had set up protective spells around their flats to keep them secure; that he was very good at these spells because he often worked with them at the bank. If he could keep out trouble at Gringotts, he could keep them out of her flat. This seemed to calm her sister, allowing her to finally sleep. Fleur, however, found herself awake for several hours after the fact. The noises didn't quiet down until well after three o'clock.
"They were awful last night," she explained to Bill once he had turned up first thing that morning to lift the spells. She'd sent her sister next door to dress for the day to allow them a few minutes or privacy. "Gabrielle was terrified. Why is this being allowed? Where are the authorities?"
He shook his head. "I don't know. You'd think the Ministry would send some Aurors out. If they are, they're not sending enough. It's only going to get worse. I should have asked Tonks about it when I saw her last night."
"You saw Tonks again?"
"She was still at the house with my folks," he said. "Remus too. He'd brought information from Dumbledore…"
It was then that he explained to her that his name was on some sort of Death Eaters' list—along with the names of everyone else in the Order. She wasn't listed, probably because they hadn't got wind of her joining yet. She had been marked down as being connected to him though, which gave her a chill of a feeling. Who was watching them?
"Does that mean you are not safe?" she asked. "That we're not safe?"
"We haven't been safe for a while," he said, forcing a sad sort of smile. "We just didn't realize how little we were. They know who we are and we've got to be more aware."
"But how do they know?"
"I think there's a spy, but—" There was a knock on the door, which caused him to turn quickly before adding, "I'll give you my thoughts later." He pulled out his wand.
"It is likely only Gabrielle. Or my parents."
He turned back to look at her. "That's the thing. From here on out, we can't assume it's always going to be who we think it is. That's what I mean when I say we've got to be more aware. Ask who it is."
Her face turned skeptical. "You don't think…?"
"I don't know."
"But if someone wants to cause harm to me, would they tell me the truth when I ask who it is?"
He shook his head. "No, but that's why we need to take precautions. My parents used to use passwords and secret questions only they would know before they'd let anyone enter the house. That's how they got through the first war. Even I had to know them."
This all suddenly felt so much more real and...terrifying. It felt as if overnight, everything had changed. She wasn't quite sure what to do, though a second knock at the door gave her a start. Bill moved over to answer it, though not before asking, "Who is it?"
A small sounding voice answered in a confused manner, though Fleur couldn't hear what they said. It was clearly Gabrielle; her confusion stemming from the fact that she didn't understand the question Bill had asked since she didn't speak English.
Fleur stepped forward to grab at the door. "If the Death Eaters are so well informed that they know to impersonate my ten-year-old-sister on the day she happened to be visiting from France, then we do not stand a chance."
Bill made a face. "I'm not saying it's them right now, but we need to be more careful in the future."
She pulled open the door to reveal her sister, seemingly confused as her eyes went straight to Bill's wand. She blinked and looked back at Fleur.
"Maman et papa veulent te voir," she said, informing them that her parents would like to see her. She looked back at Bill and his wand. "Vous voudrez peut-être ranger votre bâton."
He glanced at Fleur for translation, who told him, "My parents want to see me. And she says you should put your wand away if you plan on coming."
She'd moved to exit, only to have Bill stop her. "Before we go see them, can I talk to you for a minute?"
She looked over at Gabrielle and told her to tell everyone she would be along in a moment. She assumed she was going to get another warning to heed or an alert she needed to be aware of, but what she got was far more surprising than any of that.
"You know it's not safe to stay here anymore," he began to say, "especially on your own."
"I am not on my own. You are here."
"Except when I'm working nights for the next few months."
Oh...She'd nearly forgotten. Having had the last few days back on a normal schedule with him, it had slipped her mind that he wasn't around in the evenings. She would be alone soon enough, which...didn't excite her after watching the events of last night unfold and hearing the news that her name was appearing on Death Eaters' documents.
"I agree we should find somewhere else to go, but where?" she asked, thinking he was about to suggest they start their search for a new flat again. With the events at the Ministry, the engagement, and their holiday by the sea, they'd become distracted.
Bill suddenly smiled rather funny at her, as if he might have a suggestion but didn't offer it up straight away. She found herself studying his expression, silently urging him to say what he clearly wanted to say.
"So," he said slowly, "the thing is, my mum actually suggested that you move in with us. At the Burrow."
She stared at him.
"Here me out," he said, speaking before she could even formalize a proper thought. "One, it's more secluded and out of the city. Away from all," he pointed toward a window to indicate outside, "the nutters. Two, you'd be closer connected to Order happenings, seeing as it's sort of a semi-temporary headquarters until Grimmauld Place gets sorted out. Three, you won't be on your own when I'm at work. You'll have loads of people around, especially because Harry's coming soon to spend the rest of the summer with us, which adds another layer of protection once he's arrived."
She stared at him.
"And my mum's the one who suggested it," he added, to which she must have reacted with an incredibly doubtful expression, because he immediately doubled down with, "I swear to you. She and my dad want you protected. Mum actually said this will give her a chance to properly get to know you. My dad called you his future daughter-in-law." He grinned a little. "They're getting on board with all of this, just as I said they would."
She blinked, realizing then that she hadn't done in the last minute or so that Bill had been speaking. He was suggesting that she move into the Burrow with his family...with his mother. All of them under one roof while she spent most evenings without him around as a buffer. That sounded...it sounded…
"I know it would be an adjustment for everyone," he said. "But it truly is the safest option right now for us. Plus, think of how much money we'll save without having to pay rent."
She furrowed her brow. Was now the time for frugality?
"So we can save up to buy a house," he added once she clearly hadn't followed his train of thought. "Perhaps even one by the sea like you want. This would let us save up a nice nest egg. Long-term this would pay off and be a good decision." He smiled a little." This is actually the best option for us to get to 'long-term.'"
"That is easy for you to say, your mother likes you," she said, looking away. She already had images of her and Molly rowing over peas or the weather. She couldn't see how she would even make it to 'long-term' in any scenario.
"My mum was the one to suggest this," he reminded her, laying a hand on her shoulder. "She wants to get to know you. She's making an effort. I think we should too." He gave her shoulder a squeeze. "Think about it, alright? But I would feel loads better knowing you were safe at night."
She stared at him. She could think about it, but if she had to answer right now, she didn't know what she would say. All of his reasons made sense, but did they outweigh losing her sanity? What good was long-term if she'd gone completely mad?
"Would we get to live in the same room?"
"Yeah, obviously," he said.
"Did your mother say that?"
"No, but we didn't get that far." He waved his hand. "I'll take care of those details. Don't worry about that."
Oh, but she was worried about it. Bill attempting to convince his mother of something in her own home, on her turf, with her rules didn't always have the best outcome. If she did this, he was truly going to have to prove if he meant what he'd said after she'd returned from France: that he would stand up to his mother on her—and on their—behalf. Perhaps this was the sort of test he needed. Having to make choices between mother and his future wife.
Still, she wasn't sure this was a commitment she wanted to make, even if the alternative was dealing with Death Eaters roaming the streets.
She suggested then they go over to Isabelle's to see her parents, where she immediately found her mother and Isabelle packing Isabelle's things into bags and suitcases. Her father was standing idly at the window, drinking tea, and staring down at the street below.
"Bonjour," Bill offered, politely smiling in that charming way of his that generally elicited cheerful and receptive reactions. This time though, the reaction was more tepid. Her mother paused only briefly to look at him before immediately returning to her packing; her father didn't even look away from the window. Isabelle seemed too preoccupied to notice, though Gabrielle did offer him a congratulatory sounding, "Très bien" at his French attempt.
"Qu'est-ce que c'est?" Fleur asked her mother, wondering what all this was. She knew Isabelle was leaving, but she'd assumed that was in a week or so. By the looks of things, it was happening very soon.
Her mother sighed in an exhausted way, immediately launching into how awful the scene outside was last night; how Isabelle had enough. The neighborhood was falling apart and she was ready to leave as soon as possible.
"We could not sleep last night," Isabelle added. "Your parents decided to help me with my packing. We have plans to go and board up the shop once we are done. I'm planning to take their Portkey back with them."
That seemed...very sudden. Yes, the sounds and mania last night had been scary, but she didn't think it warranted packing up and leaving overnight.
Isabelle turned to Fleur. "I know I told you you may stay in your flat for the remainder of the summer, but after talking to your father…" She glanced over at him before looking back at her. "He and I have both agreed that you cannot stay here any longer."
Fleur looked over her father, her expression begging him to tell her that himself. He, however, continued to sip tea and stare out the window. It took her a moment to realize he probably had no idea what was being said, hence why he hadn't reacted.
"It is simply not safe," Isabelle added.
Fleur sighed, looking directly at Isabelle. "What is it that they want me to do? Give up on everything I have here and move home?"
Isabelle nodded. "Ideally. It is safer there."
"For now," Fleur muttered. "But who is to say it will stay that way if everyone is running away from the problem and not fighting it? Like a disease, it will spread if not treated."
Fleur's mother asked Isabelle to translate what Fleur was saying, which she did. It caused her father to finally look away from the window and her mother to look at her rather alarmed. It was her who asked if she had plans to fight what this was.
She didn't want to worry them more by admitting she did. Trying to fight madmen; getting engaged to a man they felt she'd only just met. She was asking for them to practically drag her out of here and back to France to have her head examined.
"Je ne fuis pas les problèmes," she said, reminding them of something she often told people. She faced problems; she didn't run away from them.
His father had chuckled at that. He set his tea cup down and chose then to remind her that she had run away from her problems just last week. Run home—where she knew things were safe—because England had turned out to be miserable. He'd pointed out the window at that, adding how they'd all seen it. How was it she realized all of this last week, but was pretending this week it wasn't the case?
One moment of weakness, she thought to herself. She never should have done it. They were going to use that on her for as long as they could. She looked over at Bill, who smiled at her in an encouraging sort of way, as if he picked up the tone of things even if he didn't understand what was being said.
That smile made her feel bold. If they wanted to know what she'd realized in a week, then she was going to tell them.
She took a deep breath before launching into her explanation as to why she was going to remain here in England, despite their attempts to convince her otherwise. Last week didn't matter, it was now this week. She was going forward, not backwards. She was staying here because her life was here now—her fiancé was here.
And yes, she reminded them she was going to marry him; though she told them she and Bill had agreed to have a longer engagement and try to get married properly next year. She hoped that was long enough for her family to come to terms with everything because she wanted nothing more than for them all to be there with her to celebrate. However, if they didn't...then they were the ones missing out; not her.
She'd noticed her mother had looked terribly relieved at that news, going so far as to sit in the nearest chair and place her hand on her chest as if catching her breath. Gabrielle had clapped, a happy smile on her face while she murmured something about loving weddings.
When her mother started asking wedding related questions, Fleur held up her hand to silence her. She wasn't done yet, and she wasn't willing to lose momentum and get sidetracked. While she agreed staying in Diagon Alley wasn't safe right now, running all the way back to France also wasn't the answer. She would find somewhere else. She already had another option.
She purposely left out the part that she wasn't exactly excited by this option...
"Cette option est-elle aussi dangereuse?" her father asked, inquiring if this option was just as dangerous as the one she currently had.
She looked over at Bill, who was leaning against the nearest wall, watching her with a little smile. Given his face, he seemed impressed; of what, she didn't know since he couldn't possibly know what she was saying.
"I'm just glad I'm not on the receiving end of it this time," he finally said.
She smiled at him before looking back at her father. "Non," she told him. This option wasn't nearly as dangerous; no more dangerous than being in France. Bill's family had invited her to live with them; they lived in the country with neighbors being few and far between. They even had chickens. There would be none of what they witnessed last night out there. It was very safe.
"Allez-vous vivre avec eux?" her mother asked, outright asking if she was going to live with them then. Outside of Bill, everyone in the room seemed keen to hear her answer. Was she going to live at the Burrow?
"Oui," she said, surprising even herself with her answer. It seemed that, yes, she was going to live at the Burrow.
"What?!"
Bill had been on the sofa in the sitting room with his mother, having just summoned Ginny and Ron downstairs to let them know that their soon to be full house was going to be getting fuller. Their mother had just announced Fleur would be moving in. It had been Ginny who'd shouted.
"She's moving in here?" Ron asked, looking a bit shocked by the news. "Tomorrow? To our house?"
Their mother nodded. "You both know it's becoming more unsafe out there. She needed a place to go."
"But why does it have to be here?" Ginny asked.
"Because I live here," Bill countered shortly, starting to find himself annoyed with his sister's attitude on the subject lately. "And I go where she goes."
She stared back at him, her eyes focusing as if he was challenging her. "Well, then maybe you should both go and find a place of your own. Aren't you getting married? Shouldn't you be living on your own anyway?"
"Ginny..." scolded their mother, apparently surprised by her tone. "They're not married yet. And it's far safer to have everyone in one spot, you know that—"
Ginny scoffed loudly before she turned on her heels and headed straight for the stairs. The sound of her thumping up to the first floor landing carried all the way downstairs.
Bill reached up and rubbed his eyes. He was already over this teenage angst bullshit, and he sure as hell wasn't going to have Fleur deal with it once she moved in.
He stood and looked at his mother, who immediately said, "I will talk to her."
"No, that's alright," he said with a nod. "I'll do it."
He looked over at Ron, who was still standing there watching him. At least he seemed fine with the idea. Given the way he tended to get all dopey around Fleur like most teenage boys would around a pretty girl, this wasn't entirely surprising. If anything, he sensed he'd probably have to start swatting Ron on the head more and telling him to get it together—just as he had with Charlie when they were kids.
"Which room is she staying in?" Ron asked, looking at Bill. "Yours?"
His mother began to say, "Oh, I was thinking Percy's—" just as Bill said, "Yeah, mine."
They both looked at each other, with Bill reiterating, "She'll live in mine with me."
His mother's face grew doubtful. "I don't know if that's appropriate, Bill. You have younger siblings at home. They'll have their friends over soon enough."
He stared at her. "Alright? What's not appropriate about it?"
She said nothing and just stared back at him rather obviously.
Was she worried if they shared the same space that everyone would think they were having sex? Because...they would be right. He was going to have sex. He would do it privately—not in the sitting room or where it would affect anyone—and given he was excellent with silencing spells, it was a moot point. His siblings and their friends were all old enough to comprehend that two people in a serious relationship—who were engaged!—were allowed to do that.
"We're engaged, Mum."
"Engaged isn't married."
He actually laughed at that. "Yeah, alright. Um, well, we can discuss it more later if you'd like, but I need to take care of that one," he pointed above his head to indicate Ginny, "before I can continue to deal with this."
With that, he took to the stairs himself; all the way to the first floor that housed both he and Ginny's bedrooms. He walked straight over to her closed door and knocked. It was time to get to the bottom of what her problem was lately.
"Go away."
"No," he said, pausing for a moment before adding, "We need to talk."
"I don't think we do."
"You 'think' wrong then," he said, reaching for the handle and opening the door himself. Ginny was sitting cross legged on her bed, leaning against the wall underneath her Holyhead Harpies poster. The moment he'd entered, she'd immediately offered him up an indignant stare.
"I didn't say you—"
"Oh, you've said plenty lately," he said, cutting her off and immediately pulling her desk chair over toward her bed. He took a seat and did nothing more than stare at her.
She avoided his eyes, but was clearly annoyed. She was fiddling with a Snitch in her lap, which reminded him of how the twins said she'd played Seeker for Gryffindor last term after Harry had been suspended from the team. Apparently, she had done a bang up job catching the Snitch in all the matches she played in. He'd never even known she'd taken to Quidditch that much, though he did have memories of her and Ron watching Charlie fly around when they were small.
He could remember when the twins got involved in the Quidditch scene, they'd sometimes let Ron tag along because they needed a Keeper—that or they just wanted to pelt Quaffles at his head—but Ginny had never been included. She'd always just watched. When she became good enough to be some sort of clutch Seeker, he didn't know.
It made him realize he probably didn't know a lot of things about her anymore. Even just sitting here staring at her, she'd grown so much since just last summer. She was looking less like that little girl whose face used to light up like a lantern when he came home from school; less like that small girl who'd been so badly shaken up during her first year.
Now she looked like a young woman who was practically grown; one who'd lived and survived more life at nearly fifteen than he ever came close to at her age. He felt sorry for how fucked up she and Ron's adolescence was turning out to be. He and Charlie had normal teenage problems—homework, dating, friends. She and Ron had all of that on top of Voldemort, Death Eaters, and insane teachers trying to ruin their lives and kill their friends.
Perhaps that was what this was all about: fallout from the Department of Mysteries. He'd probably be angry and short with the world too if he and his friends had been ambushed and injured by psychos; if he'd had to watch someone die because their group had made an error in judgement. Sadly, it wasn't as if it had been the first time for some of them…
"Heard you're a cracking good Seeker," he finally said, gesturing to the Snitch.
She shrugged, still avoiding his eyes. "I don't like it much. I'd prefer to be a Chaser." She looked up at him. "You didn't come up here to talk about Quidditch."
"I'll talk about anything as long as you're not trying to bite my head off."
She rolled her eyes. He wanted to ask her if eye rolling was her new default mode, but he decided against it. He didn't need her on the defensive any more than she already was.
"How's your ankle?" he asked, gesturing to one at random since he wasn't quite sure which she'd broken.
She flexed her right one. "It's fine. Nothing Pomfrey couldn't mend in a few minutes. Not as though I have any lasting damage like Ron."
He nodded. "And how are you otherwise?"
She shrugged. "Fine."
"Nothing you want to talk about from that night?"
She looked at him funny, as if that had been a strange question. "No. What's to talk about? You've probably heard the story a hundred times."
"I haven't heard it from you," he offered.
She shrugged again. "My version isn't any different than anyone else's." She stretched her legs out in front of her. "And you didn't come up here to talk about that either, so perhaps you should get to what you really want to discuss."
He grinned a little. "Gin, I'm just making sure you're alright. You've been through some shit lately."
"Nothing I can't handle," she said quickly. "I'm not this delicate flower that everyone seems to think I am."
"I don't think you're a delicate flower. I think you've been through some shit and I care that you came out the other end in one piece. I would ask anyone if they were alright after all of that."
She didn't look as if she believed that for a second, which he had to admit hurt his feelings a bit. There was a time he could tell her the sky was green and she'd have believed him. That was apparently a thing of the past.
"Well, maybe you can have a chat with mum and convince her of that," she muttered. "Because she certainly thinks I'm fragile." She rolled her eyes. "Ron doesn't get half the coddling I do."
He shrugged. "It's because he's bigger and a bit older and—"
"Not a girl. Yeah, I get it."
She wasn't wrong, though her being a girl wasn't entirely the explanation. It was because she was 'the' girl; the baby of the family. This family was well versed with males, and Ron had the advantage of being the six of six boys. Ginny was one of one girls. Even he had to admit it took him a moment to pull back and remember she didn't always need help or assistance. She was plenty old and capable of figuring most things out now, but old habits die hard.
"It's not because you're a girl, it's because mum is mum and she always has been and she always will be," he said. "We've all got our battles with her."
"You don't."
He laughed a little humorlessly. "You have no idea." He paused for a moment, deciding to finally bridge this. "Especially when it comes to all this Fleur stuff."
She let her eyes drop to the Snitch in her lap once more, but she said nothing.
"She hasn't exactly been…" He paused. "Well, it's been rocky between her and Fleur. They're both very opinionated and that doesn't always mix well. They seem to be coming around a bit. I think the engagement knocked Mum off kilter, but we're working through it. It puts me in a shit spot at times."
Ginny still said nothing. She continued to turn the Snitch in her fingers.
"Which is why it would be great," he added, "if other people realized that Fleur is going to be a permanent fixture in my life now and they supported that. I really don't have the time or the energy to deal with mum andthem…"
She looked up. "Can I ask you a question?"
He nodded.
She looked away and out her window in a way that was nearly identical to their mother when she was thinking about something. "You may not like it."
"One way to find out."
She looked back at him. "What do you see in her?"
"Wow," he said, pulling a bit of a face since he found that to be rather bold. "That's…"
"I get she's beautiful," she said with an obviousness in her tone. "And she's supposed to be clever because she got in the tournament—"
"She's brilliant," he said.
"Sure," Ginny said, sounding as if she was willing to agree to move things along. "But...what do you actually see in her? Because everything I've seen isn't..." She trailed off into silence.
"Isn't what?" he asked, trying not to immediately sound defensive, despite feeling that way.
"Isn't you!" she practically shouted. "When she was at Hogwarts, she was a snob. She walked around as if she was better than everyone, that Hogwarts was dirt, that we were all simple and boring. I told you the way she treated Ron when he was a dolt and asked her to the ball. And she acted as if Harry was some cheater—some annoying little boy—until he went and saved her sister." She rolled her eyes. "Then suddenly he was worth her time."
She tossed the Snitch aside. "She was only nice to people if they had value to her. And you've never been like that. You've always been kind to everyone. You've never been a snob a day in your life. How do you end up with someone like her?"
Well...that was quite a bit to unpack. He wasn't exactly sure where to start since he honestly had several thoughts running through his head; many of which he'd wanted to say while she'd been speaking, but he'd held his tongue to let her get it all out. Obviously the Fleur she'd experienced was very different from the one he knew. But that was the point, she didn't know Fleur. She was basing this off what she thought she knew.
"Alright," he said with a nod. "You have thoughts. I won't deny what you saw at school when she was there because I don't know what happened. I didn't know her then. What I do know is that the tournament and Cedric's death did a real number on her. She'll tell you herself how much it's changed her, and I only know that version of her. And that version isn't some walking, stuck-up terror like you described."
She didn't react. She also didn't seem convinced.
"Do you honestly think I'd end up with a girl like that? Gin, you know me. Do you really find it easier to believe that I would be with some awful snob? Or do you think it's more that I found someone who may, or may not, have been that person, but has since changed?"
"I don't know," she said. "She is part Veela."
His eyes narrowed. That truly wasn't secret information anymore. "What does that have to do with anything?"
"They're known for their powers of…" she hesitated, "seduction…"
He blinked. "So, you think she's...what? Charming me? Using Veela magic on me? Hypnotizing me?"
She shrugged.
"For fuck's sake," he mumbled, looking up at the ceiling. Ginny was lucky she was young, and naive, and that he truly did love her very much because anyone else he would probably have told right off then. Instead, he calmly said, "She's a quarter Veela. That's barely…" He made a face. "The Ministry wouldn't even classify her as one at just a quarter. She has no powers."
"Tell that to the idiots like Ron who fell all over themselves at school over her," she countered. "Have you seen him around her? It's like his brain's leaked out his ears. And he's not the only one. She had that effect on plenty of them."
"Because she's gorgeous and they're all a bunch of dumb, randy teenage boys!" he said. "It doesn't take much at that age! Trust me."
"But it was different—"
"Gin, she does not have powers," he said more adamantly, "she's not hypnotizing me. And honestly, why would she? What would be the point? I'm not rich or powerful." He gestured around her room. "You think she's in this for the wealth of the Weasley Estate?"
That made her crack a small smile, despite herself.
"If she had powers to hypnotize men at her will, you'd think she'd go find one who could give her the world and more. But instead, she chose me. Regular, old me."
He took a deep breath and leaned forward. "You want to know what I see in her? The answer is everything. I see everything I've ever wanted in a partner in her. She's who I want to spend the rest of my life with; she's who I want to one day have my children. She's put up with so much from me this last year—what with the Order and, hell, even mum—and she didn't have to do any of it. But she did it because she loves me. And one day, when you fall in love with someone, you'll understand—"
Ginny pulled a face. "I've been in love."
That hadn't been the response he'd expected. It was also fairly surprising because...she had? When had…?
"Really?" he asked, his tone skeptical. "I wasn't aware you'd…" he paused, "had a boyfriend before." He started to examine her face. "Do you have a boyfriend?"
She shook her head in a bored sort of way. "I'm talking to someone, but it's not serious. But I had a boyfriend last year. We broke up." She stuck out her tongue. "He's...annoying. Don't know what I saw in him."
"But you were in love with him?"
She looked at him as if he were daft. "No, nothing like that. Why would you think that?"
"You just said…"
"It wasn't him," Ginny corrected, reaching back over to pick up the Snitch she'd been playing with and again slowly examining it. "It doesn't matter who it was. The point is, I've been in love. I know what it feels like."
Alright. He didn't want to contradict her or belittle her feelings, despite thinking his and her version of love were probably very different—as it often was when you're a teenager. But when he thought like that, he suddenly felt judgmental in the same way Fleur's and his parents were. They all felt they knew better about his and Fleur's feelings because they were older and more experienced. They really had no idea.
"Well, then you know that when you're in love," he said quietly, "you know. It's like nothing you've ever felt before."
She nodded a little.
"And it's shitty when people question it, or tell you it's not genuine, or that you're only being charmed by some magic…"
She glanced at him. "I probably shouldn't have gone that far."
"You shouldn't have."
"To be fair, mum's also questioned it," she said. "She was worried that was why you'd proposed so soon. She says sometimes you don't seem like yourself when it comes to her and she's wondered if maybe the whole Veela thing has played a part."
Bill fought the urge to roll his eyes into the back of his head. With his mother it was always one step forward, two steps back. He wasn't going to dwell on that however; instead he was going to focus on the fact that she'd asked Fleur to move in and that they were moving in the right direction now. They all just had to get to know each other properly and all see how well they could get on.
"Look," he said to her. "I would love it if you gave Fleur a second chance, a proper chance, to get to know her. I promise you, she's fantastic and you two could get on well if you wanted. I get you think she's a snob, but she grew up very differently than we did, and I will admit it shows sometimes. But she's not coming from a cruel place, it's from a different place. It's not something to hold against her, just as we don't want people holding it against us for being poor."
Ginny heaved a heavy breath. "I'm not going to promise that we'll be friends, but I will...tolerate her."
"How very hospitable of you," he said rather dryly.
She threw him a look. "I told you, she's already made an impression on me. It's her job to change it, not mine to just take you at your word that she's suddenly wonderful."
"People do change, Gin."
She shrugged. "We'll see."