For Fleur, having her parents come and stay at the Burrow wasn't an idea she would have entertained a couple of weeks ago, but she was starting to realize her life didn't care much for her plans or ideas. Not only did it not care, she sometimes felt as if it was laughing at her for even bothering to try to have any.
As it turned out, her parents, with their sophisticated taste and their very un-Burrow like style, were set to arrive for their stay at the Burrow any minute now. They had not only agreed to take up the Weasleys on their offer to use their home as lodgings, but they'd done it without any hesitation. They'd been on board from the moment Fleur had proposed the idea to them, which had caught her by surprise since she assumed that it would have taken some convincing.
If it is good enough for you, it is good enough for us, her father had said, while her mother had simply wanted the safest place for them to be while in England. They still fervently believed it to be a full on war zone, and while the Burrow was probably one of the most protected places around right now, Fleur did neglect to mention that with Harry here, it was also a potential target.
Because the last thing she wanted to do was scare her parents more. While nearly everyone else she knew had opted not to make the trip to England for her wedding, her parents had stuck by her. She could do without almost everyone else, but her parents and Gabrielle being there meant the world to her; especially considering that a year ago they were threatening to not come at all since they felt she was rushing into marriage.
She and Bill had, of course, proved them all wrong; they hadn't been rushing things and they were still in love today as much as they were then. She knew that ultimately her parents were just looking to protect her; she could see from their perspective how it may have been a bit sudden and manic for her to make so many permanent changes in such a short span of time. But they also needed to understand that her life was nothing like how it had once been as a girl in France.
She had changed so much.
They would see that soon enough, though—as soon as they arrived and witnessed just how she'd been living for the last year.
Arthur had gone to fetch them, seeing as no one could Apparate or Portkey within the Burrow's current protective charms. Fleur had wanted to go with him, but Molly had asked—rather begged—for her to please go through her and Arthur's bedroom just once more and make sure everything was completely up to her parents' satisfaction. Molly, who in times like this always seemed to get anxious under the eye of people she assumed would judge the Burrow's decidedly un-posh decor, was obviously nervous that Fleur's parents would find the place unsatisfactory.
"It iz fine," Fleur had told her, noting that Molly really had gone all out to make her bedroom look as quaint and cozy as it possibly could be—having even fashioned new wall hangings and added new throw pillows to the bed. Fleur knew Molly had absolutely no time to spare lately to even have completed such tasks, which meant she was putting in overtime hours just to impress her parents on top of all the wedding duties and war efforts.
It clearly meant a lot to Molly that everything was perfect.
"It iz lovely," Fleur added.
Molly nodded and smiled, looking nervous. Fleur half expected her to ask—again—if she'd warned her parents not to expect anything too nice, but she didn't mention it this time. Perhaps it was because it was too late; perhaps she finally decided to believe Fleur when she told her that her parents were well aware of what to expect.
Because not only are they aware, but they were fine with it.
And, yes, once her parents arrived, they were certainly a bit curious about the Burrow—the sight of it alone was enough to make anyone stare for a few moments—and she was sure her mother was a little unsure as to how to approach certain things given the rustic and country nature, but her family was nothing if not polite. Her father had even quickly told the Weasleys how unnecessary it was that they give up their bedroom on account of them, which the Weasleys immediately claimed was no problem; they insisted.
But what caught Fleur's attention most about the conversation was that her parents were communicating with everyone…in English.
"We 'ave been learning," her father said once she inquired. "Since you are 'ere in England, we zought it 'appy to learn some, oui?"
"Ils apprennent depuis un an," Gabrielle told Fleur, letting her know their parents have been trying to learn for the last year so that they could actually speak to Bill. Apparently, they didn't like the idea of never being able to properly speak to their future son-in-law and this man their daughter spent so much time with, so they decided to do something about it.
At that, Fleur had let herself melt at just how lovely a gesture that was. Especially since Bill had been trying to do the same with French, knowing how even a bit of conversation with her family would mean the world to her. Granted, he kept getting distracted lately for obvious reasons, but the fact that everyone was trying—for her—made her heart feel as if it was swelling. She felt ready to burst with pure happiness.
It had been a long time since she'd felt this happy.
Of course, her parents did readily revert back to French when it was just her and them. While they said nothing rude and were on their best behavior, her mother did seem surprised to see that this was how Fleur had been living. It was clearly very different from the way she'd grown up.
"Il y a des poulets..." said her mother on the tour Fleur was giving them, commenting on how there were actual chickens inside the chicken coop. Gabrielle seemed particularly amused at the sight of them, asking immediately if there were other farm animals around.
After the initial newness and surprise wore off, Fleur got the distinct impression that her parents were treating this as a cute, little country escape—an adventure of sorts. It was amusing to them, all the sights and sounds they weren't particularly familiar with. They seemed to find everything rather charming and novel.
They seemed happy that she was happy.
Fleur had been so excited about how well everything was going that she'd actually forgotten that they'd yet to see Bill since his accident.
When he'd arrived later that afternoon, Gabrielle had spotted him first out the window crossing the property line. The house had been busy with life, and her parents had been insisting that someone put them to work so that they could help prepare for the wedding.
Molly originally had seemed rather horrified by the idea of their guests needing to do anything, but that was before she witnessed how well Fleur's mother could handle household chore spells. If Molly thought Fleur could clean well with just a few flicks of her wand, it was nothing compared to how efficient her mother was. She truly had learned from the best.
"I asked my twins to clean out that oven earlier today, and they'd barely made a dent after an hour," Molly had said to Fleur's mother after observing how absolutely spotless the oven was once she'd got a hold of it. "You did it in ten minutes. I've never seen it so clean."
"It was no trouble!" said her mother brightly. Fleur got the impression she didn't entirely comprehend every word Molly had said, but understood that she was being complimented for her skills. It was the exact scenario her mother loved to be in.
Fleur could hear Fred on the other side of the kitchen mutter to George, "And that's the difference between wanting to be of assistance and being forced to be…"
"Madame Delacour is welcome to do all of our chores from here on out," George quipped. "Our feelings won't be hurt."
That earned him a silencing look from Molly, though it wasn't necessary. Fleur noticed her mother was still preoccupied from her job well done and hadn't caught the joke. Even if she had, Fleur felt English sarcasm was still above her understanding in the language learning process.
Fleur smiled at the scene, glancing down at Gabrielle, who was standing beside her and had barely left her side since arriving. This was very much like being at home in Marseilles, except here Gabrielle had endless questions about everything conceivable.
"Who were all these people?" "Where was Bill?" "Why did the Burrow look like this?" "Which room was she sleeping in?" "Which room was everyone sleeping in?" "Which room was Harry sleeping in?" "Is all this security really for him?" "Why is it for him?" "Can I see my dress?" "Can I try on my dress?" "Where is the wedding going to be?" "What time is it going to be…?"
If it could be asked, she asked it, fluttering behind Fleur all afternoon rambling off in rapid French. She'd actually grown quiet in the last couple of minutes—perhaps she'd asked everything there was to ask?—until she'd caught Bill arriving out the window and announced it loudly to the room.
Fleur wasted no time pushing out the door into the garden to greet him. She smiled as he drew closer, noticing that despite looking tired, he mustered a happy smile for her. She also noticed that he was also holding a bottle of champagne and a fruit basket. Before Fleur could ask, he was already offering, "Wedding presents from some of the people at the bank."
She hummed to say that was a thoughtful gesture. "For a moment, I thought you had come bearing gifts for my parents."
"If you think they'd like them," he said, glancing toward the house, where Fleur noticed Gabrielle appear outside of the kitchen door as if ready to follow her. "How's that been going? Everyone getting on? I still feel bad I couldn't have been here to greet them."
Fleur waved him off. "It is better than you could possibly imagine." She reached out and grabbed his arm. "My parents have been learning English so that they can talk to you."
"Wait, really?"
She nodded. "And they are doing so well! They can hold a conversation with your parents!" She smiled. "Everyone is getting along wonderfully and my parents are being oh so helpful around the house! It is a dream."
"Wow," Bill asked, seemingly pleased to hear that. "I'm surprised my mum is letting them lift a finger."
She threw him a look. "As if she could stop my mother. Remember, this is the woman who raised me."
Bill laughed as if to say he could agree with that, just as Gabrielle came rushing up to the pair of them to say hello. Fleur had expected her to run up and hug Bill, as she lately tended to do, but instead she'd stopped in her tracks about six feet short of him and just stared. Her face had dropped off and she seemed…unsure.
"Salut toi!" Bill said to Gabrielle, his tone affectionate and his smile wide. As an aside to Fleur, he added, "Wow, she got bigger. She's looking more like you every day."
Fleur half smiled, though her eyes were still on her sister. Something about her seemed off. Usually there was much more playfulness and laughter on Gabrielle's end; instead, she was staring at him as if they'd just met.
"Est-ce que tout va bien?" said Fleur, asking her if everything was alright.
Gabrielle seemed to have caught herself and quickly smiled. She nodded up and down very quickly and waved rather sheepishly at Bill.
Fleur looked back at Bill, her expression about to indicate that she didn't know what that was about; children obviously could be silly. But she never got the chance since Bill was already focused entirely on her sister.
"Différent?" he asked her, pointing to his face before he started to nod. "Yeah…I do look different."
"Oh…" Fleur said, now realizing what was happening and glancing back at her sister. To her credit, Gabrielle seemed embarrassed for having drawn attention to the fact; Fleur was sure she'd likely had a talk with their parents somewhere about not making a big deal out of things, yet here she was staring.
"I know it's different," Bill offered, a forced but kind smile on his face. "But it's still me."
"C'est la même personne," Fleur told her sister, roughly translating that for her.
Gabrielle nodded and claimed that she knew that. She'd even told herself not to be surprised because their parents had told her he would look different, but then she'd failed when actually did see him because she was still surprised. She was sorry for staring.
"What's she saying?" Bill asked, his little knowledge of French clearly lost when Gabrielle really got going.
"She is sorry for staring. She knows it is still you." Fleur forced a smile. "I think she just has questions."
"Who doesn't?" Bill offered with a shrug. "She's already far more polite than almost everyone at Gringotts when I went back. Most of them came right out pointing and gawking."
Fleur rolled her eyes, wishing everyone would just mind their business. At least in her sister's case, she was a child.
"Tell her to ask away," Bill told her. "I'd rather get it all out now."
"You are sure?" Fleur asked, knowing that he didn't usually like talking about his injury much.
He nodded as the three of them started walking back toward the Burrow. Gabrielle, now with permission, was firing off question after question in her usual manner.
"How bad did it hurt when it happened?" ("Very much")
"Did it still hurt?" ("Not really.")
"Were you scared?" ("Yes.")
"Will it ever go back to the way it was?" ("No.")
"Why are you not a werewolf?" ("Because the person that did this wasn't transformed when he attacked me")
"If he had been transformed, would you have been?" ("I assume so.")
"Are you angry about it?"
Bill had paused on that one, the group of them having reached the door without opening it. "Sometimes, yeah. There are times I still get angry about it."
Fleur translated that for her sister, though never took her eyes off Bill as she spoke. It was an obvious answer—why wouldn't he get angry about it? She still got angry about it—but to hear him say it, after he'd adopted this brave persona lately with his "It is what it is" attitude, it gave her a pause. He never wanted to talk about it much anymore, at least not in any real way. He usually only ever brought it up if someone else did.
"But then I remember," he continued, pushing open the door and smiling at Gabrielle, "that I can only move forward and nothing good will come from stewing in my anger. I'm happy to be alive." He looked over and smiled at Fleur. "I'm happy your sister will still have me."
Gabrielle glanced at Fleur for the translation, but Fleur was too busy smiling at Bill to pay her much attention.
"Not only will I have you, but soon enough, I will have you forever," she said, leaning forward and kissing him quickly.
She knew her mother and perhaps her father were likely on the other side of that door witnessing all of this; that they were going to have to go through this "here's Bill's new face" bit all over again. They were going to have to do that quite a bit in the next couple of days, and perhaps for the rest of time. People would always have questions.
But she'd be there to help him answer them, now and forever. Because in less than two days, they were to be finally married. Her family being here made it all feel more real. Her family meeting this new family she was acquiring made it all feel more real.
It really had been a long time since she was this happy.
"Uh…what happened to you?"
That was really all Bill could say when he saw Charlie—who was scowling and looking as if he was ready to throw something—walking out into the back garden of the Burrow.
Bill, who was enjoying the nice weather and chatting with Fleur and her family by the orchard, had spotted his brother the moment he'd appeared, his clear irritation practically palpable the moment the sunlight of the day hit him. Bill also immediately recognized why he was suddenly in such a foul mood...
Without giving Charlie a chance to make it all the way across the grass, Bill immediately pulled himself away from Fleur and the group to meet his very agitated looking brother halfway. He'd barely got the question out before Charlie was already swearing under his breath and pointing back to the house.
It had only even been an hour prior that Charlie had arrived home, waiting until practically the last possible moment to catch a Portkey back for the wedding. As he explained it moments after arriving, "Once you'd moved the date, I had to arrange a new Portkey. And given I'd already spent a fortune on that last minute one to visit you in hospital a few weeks ago, this time I took what they gave me to avoid the extra fees."
"A Weasley through and through," Bill had said with a smile, having made the trek about a half a mile away from the Burrow to meet Charlie's Portkey when it arrived. "Always looking to avoid spending extra money."
"It's in our blood," Charlie had said with his own smile.
They both laughed as Bill had stepped forward to hug his brother tightly. "Sorry I had to get mauled and force you a few moments of inconvenience in rearranging your travel plans."
"You should be," Charlie said, squeezing just as tightly before pulling away. He was already examining Bill's face with curiosity. "Look at you. You look good."
That was a bold-faced lie, though all Bill could muster in response was a laugh and lazy sounding, "Piss off."
"No, I mean it," Charlie said, sounding oddly sincere. "Don't get me wrong, you've lost that obnoxiously flawless quality you've always had—"
"I never—"
"But I won't lie, I thought it would be worse." He smiled at him, everything about this moment far more thoughtful than Bill was used to with his brother. "You're still better looking than me."
Bill looked away, not entirely sure what to say to that. He knew it was still the main topic for so many people—especially people like Charlie who he was close to and didn't see regularly—but it was always strange to be reminded of how different he looked. He didn't get it as much around the Burrow since everyone else had grown used to it, but he'd been getting it a lot this past week once he'd returned to Gringotts to some very obvious stares and complete looks of pity; not to mention endless questions about what had happened.
One of the higher up goblins, Ragnok, had even outright laughed when he saw him, which Bill found…oddly refreshing. It wasn't as if Ragnok had ever been particularly pleasant to be around, and at least he wasn't layering on pity like everyone else was. He'd even followed it up with, "I find you far more interesting now, Weasley. I never find wizards interesting."
Bill forced an awkward shrug at Charlie, mumbling, "Yeah, well…don't you forget it."
"How could I?" Charlie added, his tone back normal as he hitched his bag up higher onto his shoulder as if he were ready to walk. "No one else ever has a day in my life."
"Here we go," Bill said. "Bit early for a pity party, isn't it?"
Charlie snorted as if he'd never heard something so absurd. "Never! This is a celebratory weekend, my dear brother. There will be parties of all shapes and sizes!"
Bill laughed again, though Charlie had suddenly paused, having just noticed that Ron and Harry were standing a few yards down the path. They'd also come along for the walk after Bill's mother had been desperate to find something to distract Harry long enough so that she could decorate his surprise Snitch birthday cake.
When Bill had suggested Harry tag along to get Charlie, his mother had of course said no for safety reasons, but naturally Ron had to comment.
"Mum, he's seventeen today," said Ron. "He's an adult and can come and go whenever he pleases. Right, Harry?"
Harry didn't respond, which told Bill he was no idiot. Because at that point, if looks could kill, their mother would have Ron dead on the spot. She was already stressed to nearly a breaking point given everything going on, the last thing that she needed was that smartarse running his mouth.
"I'll take them both," Bill had said quickly enough, pushing Ron along since he was likely in more danger if he stayed here than if he left. "And it will be fine. It's a twenty minute walk, round trip, and we'll be on high alert."
His mother struggled to argue with that because she truly was that busy, but she did relent after immediately pulling him to the side to tell him to keep a watchful eye on Ron and Harry since she didn't seem to be keen on them—along with Hermione—ever grouping up lately.
Bill wasn't entirely sure what he was supposed to be keeping an eye on. His mother seemed under the impression they were constantly plotting something, when in reality, they'd all spent most of the walk up to the meeting point talking about how to properly use the new razor he and Fleur had got Harry for his birthday.
"Well, speaking of parties," Charlie said, observing Ron and Harry, "I wasn't aware I was getting a welcome one." He strolled over and proceeded to playfully punch Ron in the shoulder. "Nice to see you too, Ronnie. Don't rush over to say hello or anything."
Ron had sworn and was rubbing his upper arm, throwing him a look that silently asked if that was necessary. "Why would I rush over to get hit?"
"You got hit because you didn't rush over," Charlie corrected, pulling Ron in for a one armed sort of hug-shake. Ron looked taken off guard, which was funny seeing as Ron was a good several inches taller than Charlie was now. It was the first time Bill had seen them next to each other since Ron had really grown. Charlie being smaller than Ron was actually a bit jarring, but it was clear given their body languages that Ron was still very much their baby brother.
"Alright, Harry?" Charlie said, nodding at Harry, who greeted him politely as the group of them all now set back for the Burrow. Charlie couldn't help but immediately bring up that all the Burrow's protective charms—the reason he hadn't been able to Portkey directly home—seemed rather pointless if Harry was currently outside of their reach.
"It's been discussed," Bill said, throwing Ron a look. "But according to Ron, Harry's allowed to do whatever he pleases now because he's seventeen today."
"I didn't say whatever he pleases…" Ron muttered.
"Whatever I please as long as your mum approves of it," Harry joked.
"Today's your seventeenth birthday?" Charlie said, looking over at Harry. "Happy birthday! Sorry I didn't bring a gift."
"Trust me, it's fine," Harry said. "I don't need gifts."
"Yeah, but seventeen's a big one," Charlie said, his eyes drifting to Harry's wrist as if checking for something.
As if reading his brother's mind, Bill said, "He did get a watch."
"As he should. It is tradition," Charlie said, though at the same time he shot Bill a look that Harry and Ron couldn't see. He mouthed, "From who?"
"Mum and Dad," Bill mouthed back. "It's Uncle Fabian's."
Charlie looked surprised for all of five seconds before his smile turned wide and sincere again, happy to hear that. It was the exact smile Bill had when he'd actually inquired with his mother days earlier about Harry getting an appropriate coming of age gift. It seemed only right that someone should step up and do something about it.
He and Fleur had actually even discussed it, agreeing to offer to help pay for him to get a proper watch. They knew his parents couldn't afford it outright, and that no one was about to ask Muriel to extend her generosity toward a friend of the family, but if he and Fleur contributed some, they could make it work. It seemed only right now that they did have some money to spare given how much they'd saved in their house purchase. It would have made them happy to help.
But it never came to that. His mother was already well ahead of him.
"I want to give him Fabian's watch," she told Bill once he'd suggested the idea of letting him and Fleur help. She was staring at him apprehensively, as if she'd been anticipating this conversation for some reason.
"Oh," Bill said, happy to hear that she already had a plan. "That is a great idea."
She continued to stare at him. "I've always felt very strange holding on to his watch while you had Gideon's. It pained me a bit to know both weren't given a second chance at being used. As if I was playing favorites with my brothers, when I wasn't."
"I knew you weren't."
She seemed not to hear him. "I had wanted Charlie to have it, but…" She sighed. "Some people didn't agree."
"Muriel. Yeah. I know. She wanted everyone to have new watches. She paid for them all."
Her eyes went wide. "You…knew?"
He laughed a little. "Sorry, mum, but that was a terribly kept secret. I mean, Muriel never exactly hid the fact—"
His mother sighed. "I'd always hoped you hadn't picked up on that."
"You really think I had no questions after everyone else got brand new ones, but I didn't?"
"But you never said anything."
"To you," he said. "I talked to Dad–"
Her face fell. "He told you?"
"He explained it to me," he said. "And it made sense. It's alright. I get why you did it. No hard feelings." He smiled. "I'm happy I got Uncle Gideon's watch before Muriel butted in. And look, it's all worked out in the end. Now Harry's going to get something special; something with sentimental value. It's not as if he couldn't go and buy himself a new watch if he wanted, but he's getting one with heart. He can't buy that."
She nodded. "That was my intention. I know he has so little when it comes to his past. I thought perhaps he'd appreciate a part of ours." She smiled a little sadly. "If I couldn't give Fabian's watch to one of my sons, I'd like to give it to the next best thing."
As it were, Harry had seemed truly appreciative of the gesture, demonstrating a few rare moments of pure vulnerability when he'd looked rather overwhelmed with emotion before hugging Bill's mother. It was a nice moment.
On their walk, Charlie was caught up a bit on recent happenings and how mad things were with such a full Burrow. Harry and Ron had pulled ahead at some point, chatting amongst themselves and laughing about something. Perhaps they were plotting against Voldemort; perhaps they were talking about socks…Bill didn't know or care. They just seemed happy to have this opportunity without Molly Weasley's watchful eye on them.
"Sometimes it just seems so bloody normal," Charlie muttered, he too apparently watching the pair up ahead. "A kid mucking around with his mate, celebrating his birthday, getting a new watch."
"Tell me about it," Bill mumbled. "I catch myself all the time thinking about just how painfully normal they all seem. Dumb jokes and comments, staying up late, eating all the food, talking about normal shit."
Charlie shook his head. "It's fucked they don't get to have that experience we got." He gestured up ahead. "They should be worried about N.E.W.T.s and girls, not You-Know-Who and staying alive."
"Well, to be fair, there have still been girl problems from what I've heard," Bill said, smirking a bit. "Can't seem to escape that even with all the other shit."
Charlie chuckled as if to say that didn't surprise him. "'Girl problems' scream Ron to me. The kid lives to put his foot in his mouth."
"He's better these days," Bill said. "Had himself a proper girlfriend. Didn't work out, but it seems to have taught him a thing or two. I think he'll be alright." He sighed. "At least his problems are a little less close to home, unlike Ginny who goes and falls for Harry—"
Charlie laughed a little. "She still got a crush on him? I thought I'd heard she was over that."
Bill threw him a look, realizing no one had caught Charlie up on the family gossip. Which…that was good because it meant everyone was keeping their mouths shut like they said they would. As it were, Bill wouldn't have even dared to bring it up to him prior, seeing as you never knew who was watching the Floo or intercepting post; he would never want to accidentally put his baby sister in harm's way.
"Bit more than a crush," Bill said, lowering his voice. "They were properly dating."
Charlie stopped in his tracks, his eyes growing wide before he let his gaze travel up ahead to Harry. He didn't have to say a word for Bill to know exactly what he was thinking.
"Yeah, a couple of months or something," Bill added. "Didn't work out. Or rather, couldn't work out because Harry's doesn't want to put a target on her back. She was pretty torn up about it."
Charlie let out a low whistle. "And they're both at the Burrow right now…?"
He nodded again.
"Oh shit, that's the thing of nightmares," Charlie muttered, picking up the pace again again. "My ex coming to stay…" He looked back at Bill. "Has that been weird?"
He shrugged. "They seem to get on well enough. You'd never really know if you didn't know. It's not exactly common knowledge. We all know, but mum and dad don't. No one wants things to be made awkward since Harry's obviously got his plate full without the extra scrutiny and it's not as if he's got anywhere else to go. Ron's worried that if mum found out, she'd be—"
"Mum," Charlie said, making an obvious face. "Yeah, I get it."
"Though," Bill said, his eyes still on Harry and Ron a good ten feet ahead, still having their own quiet conversation, "If you ask me, given the way mum's been with them lately, I can't see her doing anything to step on Harry's toes. She's looking to keep him happy and comfortable so he doesn't want to up and leave the Burrow."
"What'd you mean?" Charlie asked. "Leave for where?"
Bill sighed, explaining all about his mother's concerns. How it was no longer a secret that Ron, Harry, and Hermione would not be returning to school in September; how they apparently would be setting off on their own to…hunt for Voldemort? That was the thing, no one knew exactly what their plan was and none of them would offer up any sort of information as to what it is they were doing.
The only thing Bill had been able to get out of Ron was that Harry and Dumbledore had discussed a plan of sorts at great length—something that would eventually lead to Voldemort's downfall if they were successful. He wouldn't elaborate anything more than that, only that he and Hermione would be going along to help him—just as they had been for years.
And while Bill and most of the Order didn't love the idea of being left out of the loop, he was also oddly understanding that he wasn't always privy to every piece of information there was to have. Remus—who usually always wanted more answers and was generally the one pushing the hardest to get them—had oddly resigned to the fact that he understood Harry's position. He'd been the one to stress to everyone that Dumbledore knew what he was doing and that they had to trust him.
"If he told Harry he couldn't share the information, then he had his reasons," Remus had told Bill, his parents, and Fleur the last time he'd been at the Burrow. "It's frustrating, but we have to respect it. All of us have our parts to play."
"Our parts to play in the dark, apparently," Molly had muttered. "I'm sorry, but what if we could help? After all, they still are children—"
"Once Harry's seventeen, he won't be anymore," Arthur quipped. "And Ron and Hermione have been of age for months—"
His mother had rolled her eyes as if she didn't want to hear it. "I'm sorry, but one of them is my child and the other two may as well be. I have a right to want to protect them—to help them."
"You have that right to want it," Remus countered. "But we don't always get what we want."
"You sound like Dumbledore," Bill quipped.
Remus didn't seem to know whether that was a good or a bad thing, and Bill wasn't entirely sure how he'd meant it either. It did, however, provoke his father to mumble, "Someone's got to, I suppose…."
His mother hadn't liked any of it, but to her credit, she'd been far quieter than Bill could have ever anticipated on the matter. There was very little outright discussion or attempts at convincing them to return to school or to stay where things were safe, though there were loads of passive aggressive attempts at keeping the three of them separated at all costs so that they could finalize or make any proper preparations.
"So she's accepted they're going to do this," Charlie began once Bill finished telling them his version of events. "She just wants them to be completely ill prepared?"
Bill grinned. "Her heart's in the…" He shrugged. "I won't say the right place, but it's in a mother's place. She's trying to delay things as long as possible. She's worried."
Charlie pulled a face. "Aren't we all? But inaction isn't going to solve anything."
"You know mum," Bill muttered, pausing for a moment before adding, "though fair warning, the mum you're about to walk in on is just a few triggers away from a bit of a breakdown. All these wedding plans, worrying about guests that will be over tomorrow, having Fleur's family staying with us…On top of that, she's trying to make Harry's seventeenth special." He threw Charlie a look. "Just brace yourself and perhaps go easy on her."
"Go easy on who?" Ron called back all of the sudden, him and Harry having slowed their pace to rejoin the pair of them in their chat.
"Mum. I was just telling him how she's a bit on edge."
Ron made a face. "A bit? She's one poorly polished napkin ring from losing it."
"He's not wrong," Bill mumbled.
To Charlie's credit, he seemed to take this advice to heart. For having a generally rebellious spirit, much like the twins, the biggest difference was that Charlie always knew when to pull back; he knew people's limits. The twins you could warn about something, but they always needed to test the waters for themselves. With Charlie, if you warned him, he generally heeded the advice and made efforts to behave himself.
This was probably why, once they got back to the Burrow and Charlie greeted his frazzled mother, he'd been nothing but smiles and easy-going nature. He was fine with having to share a room with Bill; he was fine with helping with a few chores here and there. Anything to take the stress off.
"Your hair really has got out of control," his mother had told him, observing how Charlie's hair was down to his chin at this point. "Is that really how you'll have your hair for the wedding?"
Charlie, who'd been nothing but agreeable to this point, suddenly showed signs of cracking. "I mean, I'll likely brush it first…"
Fred and George, who were currently sitting at the kitchen table folding napkins, both chuckled. It was George who said, "You should leave Charlie's hair alone. It's very—"
"Bird's nest," Fred quipped, smirking. "But you make it work."
Charlie rolled his eyes, though his mother was already chiming in on Fred's comment, claiming that she agreed that it looked like a nest and when was the last time he had it cut. Apparently the answer was, "I dunno. Some time last year…?" which had not been what his mother had wanted to hear.
Bill had excused himself after that, looking to avoid any potential rows and instead going to find Fleur—who was out in the garden with her family. That was why he'd missed all the hair cutting action that had apparently occurred while he'd been outside. He was now regretting that decision because perhaps he would have been able to do something had he not left.
"What happened to me?" Charlie repeated, his tone short and clipped—much like his hair now was. "Mum happened to me!"
Charlie's hair was…short. As in, the way they used to wear it as kids when their mother cut their hair. An hour ago, it had been shaggy and messy in a carefree "I don't think about my hair much" sort of way.
Now…
"She cut all my bloody hair off!"
Bill took a deep breath. It didn't look bad. Charlie looked nearly the exact same as he always had growing up. He definitely looked more clean cut and perfectly up to their mother's standards in appearance. There truly was nothing wrong with the haircut…if it had been a haircut he wanted.
But it was clear he didn't, and Bill could sympathize with that. He would have been livid if someone cut off his hair, which was much of the reason he hadn't let his mother touch his hair in roughly ten years. He'd made the mistake of letting her trim it once when he'd first started growing it out, and she'd gone almost as short as she had with Charlie's. Lucky for him, that had been early on in his growth journey, so he'd learned his lesson. Charlie had now too, it seemed...
"Charlie!" Fleur said brightly as she approached the pair of them, clearly happy to see him and seemingly oblivious to what was happening. "You 'ave arrived! And you cut your 'air." She hummed. "'Ow nice."
"I didn't…" he'd begun to say, but Fleur was already pulling him by the arm and leading him over toward where her family was sitting. It seemed she wanted to introduce the best man to her parents, leaving Bill to watch while his brother put on a very forced sort of polite smile.
"It'll grow back," Bill offered later on, once Charlie had excused himself to go "unpack." He'd followed his brother back into the Burrow, assuming he was going to do far less unpacking and far more sulking.
"Let me cut your hair off and tell you it'll grow back," Charlie said, leading the way up the stairs toward their now shared bedroom. "See how you react."
Bill shrugged. "I don't know, after having my face nearly torn off, I feel like I've learned a few things about coping with sudden change."
Charlie stopped in his tracks and turned to look at him. Bill knew that comment would shut him up, at least for a moment.
Things could always be worse," Bill added with a lazy shrug. "That's all I'm saying."
"You went straight to the face," Charlie said, cracking a smile. "Bit early for some emotional manipulation, isn't it? Seems more like an evening activity."
Bill smirked and shook his head, just as the sounds of someone coming down the stairs caught his attention. "Just like your pity parties, it's never too early."
Charlie managed to both laugh and roll his eyes at the same time. "You're a prat."
"You're a prat," Bill countered, just as their father appeared, clearly on his way down the stairs.
Without skipping a beat, and with barely a look in either of their directions, their father dodged them both and continued his way down, automatically muttering, "Boys, knock it off," in the same lazy, almost robotic tone of a father who'd clearly uttered that phrase thousands of times before in his in life.
Bill and Charlie looked at each other. In an instant, Bill felt like he was ten-years-old again. Charlie must have felt something similar, because it was him who quipped, "Home sweet home."