Fleur found herself much preferring the day when she did have to go to work over the ones she didn't. Even if the atmosphere at the bank was strained and nothing like it had been in months prior, it was still better than dull days at the Burrow where she spent her mornings cleaning, her afternoons reading or finding something to do to pass the time, and her evenings going back and forth with Molly over dinner plans; trying to convince her to try something—anything—different.

"But I've always prepared the chicken this way and it has always turned out well," Molly said, holding up part of a cleaned chicken carcass that she was about to season.

"I am simply suggesting other, not so English ways of preparing it," Fleur had countered, stepping forward to grab a piece of the chicken in order to demonstrate her point. "At home we take the chicken—"

Molly had pulled the rest of the chicken back toward her, her mouth a little tight. "'English way' of preparing it? We're in England."

"That does not mean we have to always eat like that."

"What's wrong with eating like that?"

It was the same thing every day. Rinse, repeat. The only time Fleur made any progress or got any headway was when Bill was present to back her up. And frankly, she was tired of needing Bill around to get anything done around here.

She did find excitement around the Burrow when there was Order business to address, though—again—if Bill was not present, she was generally treated as an observer rather than an active participant. In this instance, she was more accepting of that role since she was still getting her bearings and learning how this very secretive organization worked. She was still figuring out who half these people were—on either side of this battle—and only knew the major players. She hadn't even had a chance to properly meet most of the Order, seeing as meetings were still being held in various secret places among different groups; all of their information being passed along from one to the next.

They would get visitors at the Burrow, though generally news came through Arthur and his Ministry connections. He often spoke of a man called Kingsley as his source, who was apparently very high up at the Ministry and currently working to protect the Muggle Prime Minister.

Remus would also pop in on occasion, and one night he informed Fleur—once she inquired about him looking awful and needing some sleep—that he was a werewolf. That had explained some things, and while it hadn't been a secret, it apparently wasn't something he went around talking about with just anyone given people's prejudices. While not quite the same thing as her Veela roots, she could understand this mentality and told him she had similar concerns for herself. He was a very hard man to read, but he'd offered her a small smile after she'd confessed this to him. Perhaps they had even bonded in the tiniest of ways over their shared secrets.

There was another man who would visit that they all called Mad-Eye. Fleur recognized him from Hogwarts the year she'd been there, though she'd discovered from Bill that it wasn't the same person at all and...well, that story had been quite a bit to process. She really shouldn't have been surprised. Death Eaters using Polyjuice potion to impersonate professors and sabotage the tournament to get to Harry was yet another thing she would need to add to her long list of reasons as to why Hogwarts couldn't hold a candle to Beauxbatons.

Tonks was the most frequent Order visitor to the Burrow, often showing up several times a week. Recently however, something had changed in her that was impossible not to notice. Gone was her bubble gum pink hair and cheerful appearance—replaced by a far more dull brown color and a sullen demeanor. She rarely smiled or laughed like she used to; she didn't even talk much except to get straight down to Order business by either relaying messages or discussing a matter that needed immediate addressing, such as who would be on watch for Harry or outside the Muggle Prime Minister's home.

She often spoke of how dangerous and troubling some of the missions now were, which—as far as Fleur was concerned—went without saying. Isn't that what they all signed up for? Potentially dangerous and life-threatening situations? Tonks was an Auror...wasn't her entire career built around potential danger? It was almost strange that she was currently fixated on where everyone was and if they were protected. She seemed especially worried about Remus volunteering to go underground with the werewolves, but he was obviously the most qualified for the job. The last time Fleur had seen him, he'd seemed keen to do it.

"Something is wrong with her," Fleur had told Bill one night after they'd put up the silencing charm. "She seems miserable all of the time and she looks...terrible." She pulled a face. "I know I often claimed the pink hair washed her out, but the brown is worse. It is so drab."

Bill, whose head was in her lap as she absently stroked his hair, looked up at her. "Mum told me she's been struggling with her Metamorphmagus abilities."

That was surprising to hear. Her expression must have said as much since Bill added, "Apparently that's something depression can affect."

"Why is she depressed?"

He laughed a little humorlessly. "If I had to guess, probably all the murders and disappearances and attacks. It's bleak out there."

"I understand that," Fleur said as she brushed a piece of hair out of his face. "But depression that is strong enough to hinder her ability—one she's had since birth—must run very deep. She is an Auror, after all. She is used to bleak. She is used to fighting and death."

He looked away and nodded as if he could concede to that. "Yeah, but...it's different now. Before it wasn't every day. Think about how shitty things are at the bank these days. Her day job has got to be ten times worse. Add to that the daily attacks; the dementors; all of these people dying and going missing." He looked up at her again. "It's enough to make anyone break."

She stared back at him as she absently continued to stroke hair out of his face. She didn't doubt all of that played a part, but Tonks had always come off as stronger than that. Death obviously moved her, but it didn't quite affect her quite like it did most people. She assumed that was because of her training; what she'd seen and experienced in her life as an Auror. However, listening to Bill, he seemed to think a few dark instances were enough to make an Auror start to crack. But they didn't just pick anyone to be an Auror...only the best and the strongest.

Perhaps Tonks was witnessing horrible things that Fleur wasn't privy to. Perhaps she truly had experienced some awful things that were causing all of her depression. Or perhaps it was a combination of things, but she sensed there was simply more to it than meets the eye.

Things only got worse when, once again, she and Bill came down for breakfast one morning to find Molly crying and Arthur comforting her. Ginny was also there, sitting at the table and looking very solemn. It was clear something bad had once again happened overnight.

"What is it now?" Bill asked.

"Emmaline was killed last night," Ginny said quietly, looking up at her brother. "Just got the owl from Dumbledore."

"She was on watch near the Prime Minister's residence," Arthur added, releasing Molly as she lowered herself into a seat. "Almost certainly Death Eaters. Even the Muggles are reporting it."

Bill took a deep breath and mumbled, "Shit…" before he immediately slid into the nearest chair.

The room fell into a heavy silence and Fleur put a reassuring hand on Bill's shoulder. Given all of the names that constantly flew around here during conversations, she couldn't exactly place who this Emmaline was; whether she was a friend or just someone they knew casually.

"How did you know her?" she asked the room at random.

Ginny's head snapped toward her. "She was in the Order. Aren't you in the Order? Shouldn't you know that?"

"Ginny, lay off," said Bill. "Fleur's been in the Order a couple of weeks and she's met maybe five people. I get your upset right now, I am too, but the attitude isn't necessary."

She turned away, looking upset, but it seemed less aimed at Bill and more at the situation at hand. The entire group of them seemed beside themselves.

"She was a friend," Molly finally said, looking over at Fleur. "Arthur and I went to school with her. She was a bit younger than us."

"She was a brilliant witch," Arthur added. "Survived so much during the first war only to…" He looked away and reached up to rub something out of his eyes under his glasses. "This will be a blow. I'm sure people will be stopping by later. Maybe even Dumbledore himself. We need to make sure we're checking everyone with questions to be sure they are who they say they are. I mean that. I seem to be the only one doing it."

Molly had been too distraught to come up with chores and things to do around the house; she instead had gone out to tend to her garden and be alone. Ginny and Ron disappeared upstairs, and it almost felt as if—for the first time ever—Fleur had the place to herself.

After straightening up some things around the house, she decided to take the opportunity to contact her family to check in. The Weasleys kept their Floo locked at all times now, with the exception of a standing meeting with Charlie they had every few days. Arthur had told her she was free to use it to talk to her family if need be, just to keep things short if she could and to preferably use it during the earlier hours of the day. It was important to always seal it back up again once she was done.

While she wasn't about to tell her parents the gritty details of how life currently was, she was happy that she could vent openly in French to her mother about how frustrating things at the Burrow could be; how Bill's family was nothing like what she was used to. Her mother would always offer her a sympathetic ear, but also remind her that she could always come home if she wanted. It was something Fleur always shut down quickly. The Burrow was frustrating, but it wasn't unbearable. If Molly's micromanaging, Arthur's constant security reminders, and Ginny's need to roll her eyes at every opportunity were the worst of it, it was nothing she couldn't handle.

At the end of the Fire Call, just as she always did, Fleur had gone to extinguish the flames and seal the Floo. However this time, something strange occurred when a sudden swirl of green fire consumed the interior of the fireplace.

Startled, she immediately fell back onto her backside and stared wide-eyed into the flames as a person in a cloak materialized. Feeling panicked that she'd just allowed trouble into the home, she quickly screamed and scrambled for her wand to fend off the figure now emerging.

"Stop!" she shouted, drawing her wand and pointing it at the person.

"Oh…!" came a startled sounding female voice that was already lowering the hood of her cloak. Standing there was a teenage girl. She had quite a head of bushy brown hair and looked shocked to see a wand pointed at her. She put her hands up. "I'm not…I mean no harm."

She didn't seem particularly threatening; she actually seemed just as surprised to see Fleur as she was to see her. She had no wand in sight, nothing else that could be perceived as harmful. She was simply standing there with a bag slung over her shoulder and her hands still up.

"Who are you?" Fleur asked.

"Is this the Burrow?" asked the girl, looking around as if she were checking her bearings. "Are the Weasleys here?"

"Who are you?" Fleur repeated, lowering her wand at little. The more she looked at this girl, the more she felt a pang of familiarity in her face. She knew her from somewhere, though she had no idea where.

"My name's Hermione," she said, lowering her hands. "You're Fleur Delacour. I remember you from the Triwizard Tournament."

This Hermione clearly recognized her as well, though it still didn't explain why she was standing here.

"Is Ron here?" she asked tentatively. "Or Ginny…?"

There was a sudden sound of rushed footsteps on the stairs, with Ginny and Ron emerging moments later with wands drawn. Their eyes immediately fell to Fleur on the floor.

"Is everything alright?" Ginny asked. "We heard a scream."

"Hermione," Ron said, stopping in his tracks. "You're here." He smiled, though he also looked her up and down. "Why are you wearing a cloak?"

She immediately went to pull her cloak off, saying something about it being for travelling and to keep the ash off her and out of her hair when she used the Floo. Once she'd removed it, Fleur saw that she was nothing more than a typical looking teenage girl. There was nothing remotely threatening about her.

Hermione smiled at Ron and Ginny, but was quick to address Ron specifically. "I told you I'd be here today. In my letter. I'd been trying the Floo all morning, but it was sealed shut. Until a few moments ago, that is." She frowned a little. "Did you forget?"

He quickly shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. "No, I knew. Dad had your place connected to ours for the day, so we definitely knew. Things have just been…" He glanced over at Fleur on the floor, which caused Hermione to do the same. Fleur looked from one to the other.

"It's been mad," Ginny finished for him, also glancing over at Fleur. "Why are you on the floor?"

"I think I startled her when I came in," Hermione said, offering her a hand to help her up. "I didn't realize my arrival would be so unexpected."

"I certainly had no idea you were coming," Fleur said once she was on her feet. "I still do not even know who you are."

"She's my friend," Ron said, though he was already back to addressing Hermione. "I swear we knew. I have it on my calendar and everything. But everyone's been a bit distracted by everything lately. Just this morning—"

"Did you hear about Emmaline?" Ginny cut in.

Hermione nodded solemnly. "It's terrible. I've been keeping up with the Prophet, but they only say so much. I'm sure there's so much more to tell." She looked at Ron. "You'll need to catch me up." She again looked at Fleur now that they were eye level with each other. "About several things..."

"Fleur's living with us now," Ginny said bluntly.

"Oh…" Hermione said, clearly surprised to hear that. "That's...wow. So you and Bill must be doing well?"

It seemed this girl knew quite a bit about her, which only confirmed to Fleur that she knew her from somewhere. Still, upon hearing Bill's name, she returned the smile and stood up rather proudly. "Very much so. We are to be married." She held up her hand to show off her ring. "Next summer."

Hermione stared at her, letting herself slowly look down at the ring before offering a polite "Congratulations." She turned again to look back at the other two. Ginny was doing nothing more than nodding rather slowly, while Ron added, "Yeah. Big news."

"Not big enough to mention in any of your letters, it seems," Hermione said. "Particularly the bit about her living here."

"Surprise," Ron offered, smiling a little feebly.

"Yeah, it's been fun," Ginny muttered, her eyes locked onto Hermione's as she spoke. "Come on. You can put your things in my room."

"Yeah, we can talk up there," Ron offered, leading the way toward the stairs. "Harry's due in a couple of days, so we'll see him then..."

"Oh, will you be staying that long?" Fleur suddenly asked, surprised to hear that this seemed to be a trip of sorts and not a quick pop in visit.

All three had stopped to turn and look at her. It was Hermione who said, "Yes, I'll be here the rest of the summer." She looked at Ron. "Nice of you to tell people."

"To be fair, Ron doesn't talk a whole lot to Fleur," Ginny said with a smirk. "He sort of just goes all gooey and stares when she's—"

Ron had snapped something back at his sister to cut her off, though Fleur hadn't caught it. She was distracted by suddenly realizing where she knew Hermione from; she clapped her hands together before exclaiming, "You were part of the second task of the tournament! In the lake! The person Viktor would miss most! That is where I recognize you!"

All three sets of their eyes found their way to Fleur's, though only Ron showed any real reaction. He was suddenly looking a little startled; his mouth had gone a bit tight in the same way his mother's often did.

Hermione nodded slowly. "Yes, that was me."

"I knew that I knew you!" Fleur smiled. "I haven't spoken to Viktor in ages. I've been meaning to write to him. It has been too long."

"Oh, you should," Hermione offered. "He enjoys corresponding. I write to him often."

"Often?" Ron asked.

"You knew I wrote to him."

"I wasn't aware it was often…"

"Here we go..." Ginny muttered.

"Are you and Viktor together, then?" Fleur asked. "A couple?"

Ron randomly looked up at the ceiling then, exhaling heavily. Ginny laughed for some reason, though attempted to quickly hide it. From beside her Hermione was already saying, "No, nothing like that. We're only friends. Pen friends currently." She smiled. "The last time I saw him was actually the last time I saw you. The day you all left Hogwarts."

"She barely even knows him," Ron muttered.

"Get off it, Ron," Ginny countered. "She knows him plenty."

"What's that mean?" Ron asked, looking at Hermione.

"It means we're friends," Hermione said as if she was tired of having this conversation. "Just friends."

Fleur hummed in a confused way, "Is that all? I had only assumed since you were the person he would miss most…"

"Right? Which is a bit mental, isn't it?" Ron asked. "That he would choose someone he barely knows for that? Clingy, that one…"

Hermione sighed out of clear frustration and turned toward the stairs to leave. "Honestly, Ron. Why you get so fixated on Viktor whenever his name gets brought up..."

"I get fixated?" Ron countered, following after her. "You're the one still writing to him even though you knew him for all of five minutes…"

"Oh, please…!"

They both vanished up the stairs after that, their voices still carrying down below and leaving Fleur to wonder what had just happened. Ginny was rubbing her eyes in the same way Bill and Arthur had a tendency to do when they were tired, which only prompted Fleur to hum a bit. She offered up a breezy sounding, "I feel as if I said something I should not have."

Ginny rolled her eyes before turning to leave herself, but not before mumbling, "Just another day, then."

It had been a shit day, which was unfortunate timing considering the plans Bill's family had for dinner that evening.

All he wanted to do was eat a quick dinner and crawl into bed with Fleur and do nothing, but tonight was Harry's birthday, and that meant people would likely be popping in to visit; some surely staying for dinner. He was going to have to be social for at least a few more hours, so he at least hoped there would be alcohol.

His day had been full of non-stop headaches. Angry goblins, angry bank patrons, angry...everyone. Everyone was angry these days. A kind word or a smile was becoming next to impossible to find in public; fear and the unknown were putting people on such an edge; they were taking their frustrations out on everyone around them.

He used to dread being stuck for hours working in the vaults, but now it was the only place he wanted to be. At least it was only him and a handful of goblins down there; he'd rather listen to a bunch of techy goblins rant about how wizards were the source of all of life's problems than listen to wizards scream and yell about how having to wait to access their own vault was a crime. One man today had security called on him for making a reception witch cry. He'd told her he'd see to it that she ended up in Azkaban for the rest of her life for daring to ask him to join the hour-long queue.

Everyone was on edge. The Death Eaters' attacks and disappearances weren't ceasing; it seemed as if the Ministry was barely doing anything about it. Ollivander, the famed wand maker, was the most recent high profile person to vanish, though the circumstances around his disappearance were the strangest yet. Unlike the others lately, Ollivander's hadn't come with much struggle or mess. His shop door had simply been found open; him nowhere to be found.

None of it was behavior he was known for. According to Tonks, who'd turned up as an Auror to investigate, the neighboring shopkeeper mentioned Ollivander was particularly stringent about making sure his wands were protected every night; that he never would have left and abandoned them without at least a locked door and several spells.

Those who lived nearby also hadn't heard any signs of a struggle the night it happened. They even claimed it was one of the quietest nights in Diagon Alley in recent memory.

"Per'aps 'e left on 'is own?" Fleur had suggested once he had told her the night before. "Just as Isabelle did."

He wasn't sure he believed that. Most of the people who left on their own accord had locked up their businesses and homes; they didn't leave the doors wide open. They also generally didn't—as Tonks also mentioned—leave a cup of half drunk tea and a sandwich on the front counter.

Upon arriving home, Bill went to make the trek up to the house, only to find Fleur already emerging from the kitchen door as if she'd seen him approaching. She hadn't even let him get near the house before throwing her arms around his neck, hugging him as if it was the first time she'd seen him in ages instead of hours. He could usually gauge the kind of day she'd had based on how tightly she embraced him.

"'Ow was work?" she asked eagerly, always wanting him to be as detailed as possible despite him usually not having anything new to offer.

"Madness, as usual. All I'll say is that I'm hoping we have wine or whiskey or something after some of the shit I saw today." He glanced up at the house before looking back at her. "How was your day? You do anything fun?"

She shook her head; her expression very much doubtful that was even possible. "Unless you consider cleaning and chicken plucking fun. Or per'aps a 'ouse full of teenagers who are loud, eating all of ze time, and leaving stinky Quidditch zings lying about everywhere. Zen zere iz your mozer shouting to get zem to take care of zeir stinky zings..."

He smiled a little. "You just described my entire childhood."

She shook her head rather exhaustively. "Remus arrived not long ago. And you will be 'appy to 'ear 'e brought wine. It iz cheap and of awful quality, but I will drink it all ze same."

"See, you are starting to fit right in," he teased, earning him a swat in the chest. She had turned to lead them both back to the house, but not before Bill reached out and grabbed her hand to add, "Hey wait, aren't you supposed to be asking me a security question? Make sure I am who I say I am."

She raised her eyebrow at him. "I know it iz you."

"Do you, though?" he asked, half teasing, half not.

She suddenly stepped up close to him, and for a moment he thought she was going to kiss him. However, what she did do was lock eyes with him before reaching down and giving his crotch a quick squeeze. It immediately made him blink and smile rather reflexively, spluttering out a quick, "Well. Hello there."

"It iz you," she said with an affirmative nod.

He laughed. "You know, if someone Polyjuices me, that's going to be the same."

She shrugged as if she knew that. "Yes, but zere reaction when I do it will not be."

With that, she turned and led the way back into the house. He couldn't help but call after, "Can I get you to check that I am who I say I am later tonight?"

The kitchen of the Burrow was immediately loud the moment he and Fleur entered. His mother was fussing over a large cake that she'd clearly baked for Harry's birthday; his father and Remus were sitting at the table chatting; and the entire lot of younger members of this family and their friends had all just piled into the kitchen at that very moment to declare—at varying degrees of volume—how hungry they were, how great things smelled, how nice the cake looked.

Fleur had leaned in to whisper to Bill. "Does your mozer ever make anyzing ozer zan chocolate cake for birzdays?"

"Yeah, but chocolate is her specialty. It's really good."

She pulled a bit of a face at that. "Yes, you 'ave mentioned zat."

He kissed her on the side of her head before letting her know he'd grab wine for them both, taking the moment to say his hellos to Remus and the others as he did.

"You're home early for once," Ron said to him, plopping down at the end of the table beside Harry.

"I needed to get out of Gringotts today," Bill said as he charmed wine bottles open and began conjuring glasses out of the cupboard. "Especially since it's a special occasion. Happy Birthday, Harry."

Harry threw him a lazy sort of smile, politely thanking him just as Ron began humming a very speedy version of "Happy Birthday" for all to hear. Harry had reached over to give him a quick shove, indicating he should knock it off, but that only made Ron get louder and caused Ginny to also join in. They made sure to finish the entire song, which earned a bit of laughter from Hermione and the rest of the room. Harry looked a mixture of both embarrassed and appreciative.

"You done yet?" he asked Ron, giving him another shove.

"I think he wants an encore," Ginny teased.

More shared laughter among that lot, which actually gave Bill a bit of a pause the longer he watched them. It was almost strange how painfully normal all of this felt. Here he was, standing in front of the apparent Chosen One himself, Harry Potter, and he was acting like nothing more than your typical, average teenager. The world outside was a shitshow, and Harry was enemy number one, but you would have never known it by the way he was now having a laugh with his friends.

It was actually really nice to see—to know that despite everything he'd been through—Harry still had it in him to be a kid sometimes. He'd been with them at the Burrow for a couple of weeks now, and while Bill hadn't been sure what exactly his arrival would have meant in terms of safety and Death Eaters trying to get to him; oddly enough, things had been completely quiet since he'd arrived. That wasn't to say the house had been quiet—four teenagers made plenty of noise—but when it came to trouble or outside issues, nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. The charms they'd set up never revealed any attempts at being broken; the Order members who often came by to do perimeter checks never had anything to comment on.

It was almost bizarre to see how affected the world was around them, but meanwhile here, it was business as usual and a completely normal summer for these kids. Quidditch in the garden; hushed conversations whenever they sensed someone else was around; dumb jokes told over breakfast; food being devoured in ways that Bill questioned the use of vanishing spells; and late night chats where their loud laughter and voices carried down the stairs from Ron's room—and then subsequent shushing courtesy of his mother telling them all it was late and to go to sleep.

Bill set about pouring glasses of wine, offering it around to the adults in the room—which Remus, Fleur, and his father took, though his mother didn't—before Ron suddenly called over to get his attention. He looked as if he was silently trying to get him to pour him a glass, to which Bill shook his head and glanced at their mother.

"Come on," Ron said. "It's Harry's birthday. He should be allowed some."

"I'm alright," Harry offered, though at the sound of Ron's request, their mother had been alerted to the happenings behind her and immediately began eyeing the situation.

"Birthday or not, no one underage is drinking here tonight. I let you have champagne once, Ron, and now you're getting ideas."

Ron sighed loudly, looking around at his friends and Ginny as if to say he tried. At the same time, Fleur had piped up with, "Zat iz razer silly if you ask me."

Ron, Ginny, and their friends all grew quiet and immediately looked from Fleur to Molly. Bill immediately pulled his glass of wine up to his lips and gulped a very large portion of it down. It was enough that he was already ready to refill his glass.

"In France," Fleur continued. "Ze drinking culture is far more mature zan it iz 'ere. I can remember being as young as twelve and being allowed small glasses of wine wiz dinner. By ze time I was zeir age," she gestured to Harry specifically, "It was not even a question. Ze fact zat you must be seventeen..."

"Yes, well," his mother said rather sharply. "Here in this house, which is not in France, seventeen is the age I need you to be. So that's that." She forced a pinched smile before turning away back to the food.

Bill watched as Fleur now took a very large gulp of wine herself, very unlike the way she usually drank it, but he wasn't about to judge. He instead went and plucked up the rest of the open bottle and proceeded to walk over and top her glass off with the rest of it.

"There's more where that came from," he whispered.

She said nothing, but nodded as if she were appreciative of the gesture.

Over dinner, Ron, Ginny, and Harry regaled them with their stories of their earlier two-on-two Quidditch match out in the garden. Hermione didn't seem quite as enthusiastic about the topic, which Bill could relate to more than he cared to admit. Having grown up surrounded by Quidditch playing nutters, it was a constant occurrence in this house to have someone trying to put together a two-on-two Quidditch match.

Problem was, Bill didn't care much for broom flying. He enjoyed watching Quidditch, but unlike Charlie and the twins, he didn't care much for playing it. That usually meant he was often being begged to play just to even out the teams. He'd do it, but eventually did put a stop to it when he'd finally had enough.

"I was very thankful the day Ron got proficient enough on a broom to take my place," Bill offered between bites. "I don't think I've been on a broom since."

"I try not to get on one if I don't have to," Hermione said, cutting into her roast. "But when I'm here, they do the same thing to me—beg me. Even though there isn't much point."

"Because we need four people," Harry said across the table from her. "Two-on-two Quidditch doesn't make much sense with only three people."

"It isn't as if my presence up there does much good," Hermione countered. "You may as well be playing with three people."

No one sitting there seemed to want to argue that, which caused Hermione to pull a slight face. That face prompted Ron to add to Bill, "Hermione's a lot like you. Great at everything else, but complete rubbish on a broom."

Hermione had stopped cutting into her food to stare at him. She clearly hadn't taken to the 'complete rubbish' part of that comment. Bill closed his eyes and shook his head on his brother's behalf. Clueless. Painfully clueless.

"Complete rubbish?" Hermione asked.

"Well, you are," Ron offered. "But it's not as if I didn't mention how you were good at everything else. You are good at everything else. That was a compliment."

"Oh, for the love of…" Bill mumbled under his breath, grabbing at his wine glass and looking over at Fleur just for some place to focus the face he knew he had to be making. He now found a desperate need to schedule some time to sit his baby brother down and have a proper chat about how he talked to girls.

After dinner was finished and a proper "Happy Birthday" sung to Harry, the cake was cut over talks of current events, disappearances, and mayhem—much to his mother's dismay. Remus had got word that the body of Igor Karkaroff, a former Death Eater whose name made Fleur's head shoot up, had been discovered with the Dark Mark over it; rumor had it because he'd defied You-Know-Who. Talks of Fortescue and Ollivander's disappearance also came to light, which apparently was news to Harry and some of the others. They all suddenly looked a bit less hungry for cake after hearing it.

His mother had attempted to hush them all up during this, claiming this was no topic for a birthday celebration, but the mood had already turned in that direction. Bill had launched straight into observations he'd been picking up at the bank in the wake of all this when his mother finally managed to usher everyone who was of school-age out and elsewhere in the house. This had come with many moans and groans.

"They've been having such a nice, peaceful summer holiday," she argued once they were gone. "By reminding them of the world out there—"

"But you can't deny it's out there," Bill countered, finishing off his third glass of wine and feeling rather uninhibited at the moment. "And Harry's got a bloody front row seat to it. And if he does, Ron and Hermione do too. Apparently Ginny as well, by extension, since she's getting mixed up in it."

His mother's face turned hard. "She is too young…"

"They're all too young," Remus said. "But that doesn't mean anything and we need to stop pretending as if their age can protect them. Dumbledore has plans for Harry and I can assure you his age is the least of his concerns."

"What kind of plans?" Fleur asked, rotating the stem of her empty wine glass back and forth between her fingers.

Remus shrugged. "Only he knows that. He's mentioned he plans to have private lessons with him this year, though he won't elaborate what about."

"Is it going to...train him?" Bill asked, thinking then of specialized magic or tools that would somehow truly get to Voldemort. While he couldn't claim to know what it was about Harry that would somehow get to the bottom of things, he knew he possessed the key to put an end to this. Dumbledore always made that abundantly clear.

Remus shrugged once more. "Perhaps. Harry—hell, all of us, needs all the help we can get."

Later that evening, once Remus had gone and his parents had gone to their own part of the house, Bill found himself alone in the sitting room staring out in the back garden through the window. Ron, Ginny, Harry and Hermione were sitting out there; lying about, plucking grass from the ground rather arbitrarily only to throw it at each other, and just talking as teenagers who were looking to escape the confines of their adult controlled environment would.

As he watched, he couldn't help but again recognize that strange feeling of how twenty minutes ago, they'd been talking about Harry as if he were some hero or pivotal figure in this war—the Chosen One who was meant to help save them all—only to now witness him here acting so…bloody normal.

Shit, this kid was only sixteen as of today. He seemed so young to have this much fucking responsibility put on him. Bill didn't have a clue how he managed to do it.

It was then that Fleur came up beside him and laid a gentle hand on his arm. "Are you alright?"

He nodded absently. Maybe it was the wine or the stress of the world hitting him right then, but he was feeling a bit down and out.

"It just feels so normal sometimes," he muttered. "But it's not. I mean, look at them. They're fucking kids…"

Fleur was nodding, now letting herself rub his back as she looked out the window then with him. At the moment, it looked as if Ron and Hermione were evidently going back and forth about something, as they generally did. Bill had learned they rarely broke eye contact with each other when they were in the real thick of it. They were now practically staring holes through each other.

"Your brozer very much likes 'Ermione," Fleur said. ""E iz, 'owever, very bad at showing it."

He laughed a little, which was nice since he hadn't been in much of a mood to laugh. "Tell me about it. I need to have a talk with him. Clearly no one else is."

She hummed as if she agreed, but they were then quiet for a moment. She continued to rub his back in rhythmic circles before she added, "Your sister still fancies 'Arry."

He pulled his eyes away from the sight outside to look at her. "No, she doesn't." He knew right now that if he looked back outside, he would find Harry and Ginny sitting vaguely near each other, chatting casually as two people would. Nothing out of the ordinary; certainly nothing to indicate what Fleur was claiming.

"That was ages ago. She's over that."

Fleur shook her head. "No, she iz not. I can tell after watching 'er." She stepped away then and made her way toward the sofa. "She smiles more when 'e iz around. Her mood 'as very much improved since 'e arrived. So much so, zat she 'as even been nicer." She threw him a pointed look. "To me."

That was news to him. "Has she?"

Fleur nodded as she went to sit. "Do not get me wrong, it is not much, but zere iz a difference. Especially if 'Arry iz in ze room." She shrugged. "I see it. I am very observant."

That was obviously true; he knew that well. She'd proven that repeatedly during the days where he'd had to keep the Order a secret, yet she'd been figuring things out left and right. It almost appeared that ever since being cooped up at the Burrow, she'd been transferring that skill on to his family members as a way to pass the time.

They were usually silly things—how gardening truly brought a sense of calm to his mother, how one could instantly brighten his father's mood by discussing the Muggle Underground System with him; how Fred seemed more creative than George, but George was actually more business-minded; how Ron would talk far more if you engaged him in the things he was good at that didn't immediately get him compared to his siblings; how Ginny was always in better spirits on the days she'd been out flying versus the days she hadn't. Even Hermione had got a read, with Fleur telling Bill just yesterday that she takes great issue with being told she is wrong about something. Even something trivial.

As he let his gaze travel back to his sister in the garden, he had to admit, she had been much more cheerful lately. He'd credited it to her simply getting used to the changes around here; having friends now around to talk with after being forced to stay at the Burrow all summer. He wasn't convinced any of it was because she apparently harbored the same old crush she used to on Harry.

"She has a boyfriend," he said. "Why would she have a boyfriend if she has feelings for Harry?"

Fleur made an obvious face. "Because if someone does not feel ze same way, you cannot wait around forever. You must move on wiz your life or risk being sad and alone." She shrugged. "'Arry apparently does not feel ze same."

Bill blinked. Alright, well that stung a bit. His knee-jerk reaction was to feel a bit defensive of his little sister and her happiness right then. If someone—even someone as important as Harry—didn't see how special she was, then they were an idiot.

"But even so, zat does not mean one can control 'ow zey feel," Fleur added. "I will give 'er credit for being discreet. She 'ides it very well."

He shook his head. "I don't believe it. As someone who's been on the receiving end of a crush or two from a teenage girl, that—" He pointed out the window, "is not how they act."

She threw him a challenging look. "Because we are all ze same? Can I say ze same about boys? Did you act as Ron does at 'is age? Because if so, I no longer believe you 'ad as many female admirers as people claim."

He laughed again. That was a fair point. His and Ron's approaches to girls were very different, and no two people were the same. He could concede that. But the things she was missing was what he and Ron did have in common at that age—obvious attempts that people noticed. Ron's were, albeit, bad, but the effort was there nonetheless.

"I'm only saying," he said. "If she did, you would notice something."

"I 'ave noticed somezing. Zat iz why I said it."

"Something obvious," he said, glancing back out the window when he sensed movement. It was then that Ginny was now approaching the house. Funnily enough, Harry was in tow, which caused Bill to join Fleur on the sofa and throw her a look to say they should cease this particular chat.

When the door opened, Ginny said, "Oh," and looked surprised to see the pair of them sitting there. She forced a quick smile and said, "Hi Bill. Hi Fleur. You're still here."

"Where else would we be?" Bill asked.

She shrugged and held the door open for Harry to enter behind her. "Usually the two of you are off locked up in your room by now." She stopped then to correct herself. "Sorry, I meant locked up in your separate rooms. Because you sleep separately." She smirked a little. "Every night."

"Every night," he said, matching her smirk.

"Right, of course," she said, her expression turning far more "your secret's safe with me," before she turned toward the kitchen. "We're getting butterbeers."

She moved toward the kitchen, and Harry had followed her to presumably help. Bill watched them go, but couldn't help but notice Fleur staring at him a little smugly from the other side of the sofa.

"Is that what you're talking about?" he asked. "Because if helping someone carry butterbeers outside is some big, flirty signal I'm missing, then I evidently was flirting with my dad just the other day when I helped him carry some."

She once again looked challenged at that comment, as if she did not appreciate his doubtful tone. She glanced over toward the entrance to the kitchen before telling him, "Watch your sister when she comes back. Tell me you do not see it."

"See what?"

She didn't answer, seeing as just then Harry and Ginny had reemerged carrying two butterbeers a piece. They'd both been headed straight back outside to rejoin Ron and Hermione without bothering to stop, but that was before Fleur suddenly stood and stepped directly over to Harry.

""Arry, I 'ope you 'ave 'ad a wonderful birzday!" she said, hugging him then without hesitation. "Sixteen iz a wonderful age."

Harry seemed a bit startled by the suddenness of Fleur's gesture and hadn't reciprocated the hug, but he did offer up, "Oh, yeah. It's been great. I really appreciate what everyone's done. Even just being here to celebrate has been nice."

Bill was a little lost. What was she trying to do? Make Ginny jealous by hugging the boy she assumed she had a crush on? That seemed random. Especially since Ginny hadn't reacted in any special sort of way. If anything, she was looking at the display as strangely as he was.

Fleur was smiling directly at Harry, though she suddenly focused very intently on something on his face. So much so that it made Harry shift a bit awkwardly under her gaze.

""As anyone ever told you zat you 'ave lovely eyes?"

"Uh…Yes? I guess so."

She nodded in a very put on sort of way. "Zey really are such a beautiful shade of green. Zey actually remind me of somezing…." She paused and let that hang in the air for a moment, as if she were thinking it over, "Somezing like a...fresh pickled toad."

Bill let his eyes shoot to her. Did she just…?

He forced himself to look down at the ground, trying to hide his reaction before he looked back up and glanced at Ginny. Her face had completely dropped off in an instant; her eyes had gone wide as if the ghost of her past—of bad poetry and awkward, failed attempts—had just floated straight back into this room. Honestly, she was looking at Fleur with all the fear one would probably muster if Voldemort himself had just walked into their sitting room and sat down for tea.

Harry laughed, clearly unsure of what else he should do in the moment—though thankfully for Ginny, the one thing he didn't do was turn around to see her wilt a bit behind him. He finally did mumble something about having heard that before. "Which is strange because you don't hear loads of talk of pickled toads normally…"

Fleur smiled at him. "No?" She hummed as if she could see that before she reached out to pat on the shoulder. As she stepped aside so he could pass, she added, ""Enjoy ze rest of your birzday."

"Yeah, thanks," he said, seemingly eager to put all of this strangeness behind him as he hurried to exit with his butterbeers. Ginny, however, hadn't budged. She was still staring at Fleur.

"Are you alright?" Fleur asked her with the same smile as before.

Ginny said nothing—a first, really—but the silence was cut by Harry calling over from the door he was now holding, "Are you coming, Ginny?"

She still said nothing, but she did slowly move then to follow. She'd got all the way to the door before she stopped and looked back at Fleur with plenty of confusion written all over her face. Whatever she was thinking, she was keeping it to herself. She exited a moment later.

"You went and dredged that up?" Bill asked once they were alone.

"You saw 'er face, did you not?" she asked, as if she'd proved her point. "If she was truly over 'im, she would not 'ave cared about some silly story from ages ago. She would 'ave laughed. She would not have looked shaken. Zis iz your sister we are talking about. After everyzing she 'as been zrough, it takes much to shake 'er."

Bill wasn't sure whether he agreed with that or not with that. He had to admit she'd definitely reacted in a shaken sort of manner. And Fleur was right, that didn't happen often over generally silly things.

"I still don't think I believe it," Bill said, turning to look at the door Ginny had just exited through.

Fleur sighed, and by the sound of it she was done trying to convince him. "Believe what you will."

He would. Though as he sat there now running the last few minutes back through his head, he wondered if it was less that he didn't believe it or more that he didn't want to.

Because as much as he liked Harry, and as much as he wanted his sister happy if that was what she truly wanted, the idea of her falling for and potentially being with him—the Chosen One; the one they were after; the one who was front and center to this war; the one who appeared so normal, but ultimately wasn't—it scared him. Terrified him, actually. The Death Eaters had Fleur's name on a list just for being his partner, and he ultimately was just a minor cog in this machine. If Harry fell for someone...that target would be huge.

And a target on your back courtesy of You-Know-Who wasn't something he wouldn't wish on his worst enemy, let alone his little sister.