The horror of seeing his brother lifeless in the Great Hall, a place where he'd enjoyed so many great memories, only to have them washed away as he sank to his knees, hopeless upon the sight of Fred Weasley, a young and promising wizard, frankly the second half of his favorite brothers, bloody and stiff and cold in a cot on the ground—it made his heart stop, and it was only Fleur who could bring it back to beat once more.
Now, Bill was alone. His lovely, inspiring, intelligent and brave wife had missed a month of their child's life, and so had he, having run away on the day of her birth, and the death anniversary of Fred to a place to stay in the Three Broomsticks.
Ashamed, Bill was. He'd ignored all contact from his family and friends, and ignored his daughter, Victorie. He was just a shell, now, with his heart still. Without Fleur, there was no one. Nothing, to bring his heart back to beat again.
"Another, Gerald." He had come to know the owner of the pub on a personal base in his four week stay in the Three Broomsticks. The walrus shaped man handed him another ice-cold drink to sullen himself enough so that he could sleep some more in his bed. Fleur was gone and all was lost.
"You know," there was a voice, cunning but awkward and tender, coming from behind him. Bill's eyelids drooped as he struggled to figure out who this mysterious girl was behind him was. "Did I ever tell you the story of Lee Jordan's great uncle Hammond Foster? He was a man who loved himself more than anything in the world. Hammond only had eyes for himself, so he kept a mirror wherever he went and then he made a mistake. He dropped the mirror in the river." The voice belonged to a particularly smart witch.
"In his hopes to find his reflection again, he drowned himself. He died for a love that never existed. Bill," Hermione touched his shoulder. "You're going to kill yourself over a love that truly exists, but the other half hasn't given up." Bill turned around, confused and unwilling to recognize what was happening, what she was saying.
"I—I—Fleur is gone. It's been a month. She hasn't come out of the coma and I've lost hope for my beautiful, beautiful wife. Hermione leave me be." He swallowed, taking another gulp of mead.
Hermione pouted sadly at the eldest Weasley brother. This truly was a sad moment for him, and everyone in the Weasley/Potter arena. Having to care of the wonderful and beautiful little Victorie. She had sprouted her first hairs at one month old. They were silver, like Fleur's. She was. . . marvelous and darling.
Bill turned around to look at the girl with chocolate brown eyes and unruly hair. Hermione spoke again. "The doctors have said that Fleur is ready to wake up in an hour. That she should avoid harsh sunlight and hot temperatures, and keep on the potions for a week, but she'll be fine, Bill. "
Bill stood, blinking twice. "Fleur?"
"Yes." Hermione pitied him. "Come, please." She was on the brink of tears. The brave, brilliant man, the oldest brother of her beloved, a sunken, dwindling piece of his true personality. For the past week she had wondered if she was too late to find him. If he had been damaged beyond repair.
And while it was true he was damaged, it was not without repair.
. . . . .
Ron gripped Bill's hand as they walked into Fleur's room in St. Mungo's. Bill was used to the delicate, dainty, and soft hand of Fleur in his palm as they walked home from a long day of furniture picking or job interviewing, not the rough and shaking hand of Ron's. The entire time, Bill fantasized about his wife alive and healthy, seeing their child for the first time, who was being held by Bill, gazing with her ice blue eyes of her mother at her father, who's resemblance was impeccable with her strong jaw and angled like nose of royalty.
He was so excited, that he had simply forgotten all of his mistakes of leaving young Victorie, but everytime he took another step down that hall, he remembered everything that happened not only on the most recent May 2nd, but the former.
Suddenly, he was pulled back, just several steps from his wife. Ron had stopped him, tugged on his jacket and looked around carefully. "Bill," his voice was dry, "I-I need to ask you something." He seemed worried as his eyebrows drew together.
"Please, can it wait until after I see Fleur again?" Bill pleaded. He was desperate.
Ron shook his head. That's how Bill knew it was serious. When he couldn't even summon the ability to say the words, the eldest brother knew he should listen to the youngest brother.
Sighing, he let Ron speak. "Yes, well, you know Hermione. You've known Hermione. . . I've known Hermione. . . her parents know Hermione. . ."
"Is there a point to this?"
"Yes. In fact, I was, um, well, going to p-propose to her. After the wedding." He swallowed, looking like he expected punishment.
He was wrong.
Bill gave Ron the biggest hug he had given anyone since Charlie, his best man, at his wedding to Fleur. "Oh my goodness, brother! Congratulations! Fleur is going to love that news!" He exclaimed, pulling away to pat his astonished brother on the back.
For whatever reason, Ron still looked petrified. "You aren't mad?' He scratched his head. "With so much happening, I thought you'd think I was being a selfish lazy sod." Ron admitted. "Truth be told, I've wanted to marry Hermione since sixth year. I just. . . I can't breathe without her. I cannot stand to be away from her for over a day. I don't see anything else to do without myself than marry her." He shrugged.
"You can't wait." Bill smiled.
"Huh?"
Bill smirked again. "She means everything to you. Don't wait for me. Go. Find her. Propose to Hermione Granger." Ron's eyes widened in pleased surprise before racing off down the stairs. He could've used magic to appear at her side, but then again Ron did love her as much as Bill loved Fleur. He would sacrifice the ten saved steps for his girl.
Now, with his brother away, Bill was alone and shaking as he opened the door slowly, afraid to see a grey sheet over Fleur's body, a stout nurse telling him that a remaining Voldemort supporter switched the potions from healing potion to drowsiness draught, and accidentally taking too much and falling asleep in a way that she could not be woken.
The thought almost made him drop his baby by the nursery and leave again, assuring himself never to come back.
But it was the lasting memory of the beautiful and strong young woman his wife was and that the last of the Voldemort survivors wouldn't even care about the wife of the boring and eldest Weasley. While he hated to admit it, it would make more sense for them to have a last chance at assassination of Hermione, or Ron, or Harry, or Luna, or really anyone that was just a tad more important than them.
Banishing those thoughts, he pushed the door open completely and gasped as his eyes blurred.
"Bill. . ."
A tear fell from his eye.
She had been reading a book. It was small and dull and she hated it but now, now Bill was here. And, and her little child, who smiled elegantly and rubbed at her mother's cheeks without explaining, as babies often do.
Bill placed Victorie into a nurse's arms, weeping and bending down, propping Fleur up in his arms and embracing her, kissing her just because he finally could. "Oh, Fleur. I love you. I love you so, so much." His fingers slid like a knife through butter through her silver-blonde hair.
"I love you." Fleur responded, shaking as she buried her head in Bill's chest. Bill had never seen Fleur sob. Angry, yes. Furious, yes. Overjoyed, yes. Even frightened, yes. But never had she been so utterly overcome that she succumbed to the strongest form of emotion.
Tears.
Bill took their beautiful baby from the nurse again. "Look at her, Fleur. She's marvelous, isn't she?" Bill smoothed down the baby's hairs. She was so perfect it was hard to look at her without feeling guilty for witnessing such a sight. Bill almost immediately feared the boys she would face in her Hogwarts years.
Fleur looked at the child and held her to her chest, wiping tears from her eyes. "My beautiful, beautiful, Victorie. I love you as well. Always." She smiled back at Bill, happier than she had ever been in her entire lifetime. She realized, with a joyous and tearful glance at her child and husband, that she had never wanted anything more.
"The wedding, Fleur," Bill remembered at once. "We cannot have it anymore. There are more important things." He kissed her forehead. "Oh and I must tell you about Ron and—h"
"Oh, Bill," Fleur smiled. "We're already married, and I love it. I love our daughter and you and we don't need to do anything. Now, about Ron and Hermione. . ."
Then, Ron and Hermione rushed in, surprising everyone and causing a bit of a fuss. There was, however, a noticeable gold and ruby ring, glimmering on Hermione's middle finger, and the two were smiling bright and wide.
"Yes," Fleur breathed. "I do believe that Ron and Hermione have something to tell us."
Everyone smiled, finally glad to say that the everlasting trail of pain and delirium and suspense was over for Bill and and Fleur. They had everything. Ron and Hermione tightened their hands together and sighed, their smiles never to be washed away as they leaned over and began to tell a story.
The End
It's OK. . . I'm not crying because I've finally finished. OK, yes, yes I am. Thank you so much for reading Bill and Fleur to the not quite end. . . yes, you read right. I'm excited to announce the final chapter of my story will the epilogue. And vote in the reviews about what you want it to be about.
1. The Wedding of Ron and Hermione
2. The send off at Platform Nine and Three Quarters for Victorie, age eleven, meeting Teddy Lupin
3. Bill and Fleur coming home at last together, and Fleur putting Victorie in her crib.
A bit of author bias for you: I'd like to write option number 1, LOL. Also, review, please! I've become quite a fan of the reviews, so please review kindly and vote.
Thanks!
