She stayed by the grave long after it had been filled and everyone had hurried away to attend to their children and to make sure that Victoire and Dominique and Louis weren't taking it too hard.
With the exception of her, the last to leave had been Charlie who was deeply grieving the loss of his favourite brother, who had died far too young. Before he had left he had stood by her side and touched her shoulder gently; saying nothing but letting her know that he'd always be there. She had nodded, but not looked at him. She didn't want him, or any of them, to see how scared and fragile she was without her Bill.
It had been a freak accident in the tombs, she had received the news at quarter past one the same morning and Dominique and Victoire had been hurried home from Hogwarts, not being told what was going on until they were in the living room of the Burrow with their inconsolable mother, their frightened six year old brother, and a large, crying portion of the Weasley-Potter clan. They hadn't gone back to school for the rest of the year.
Fleur reached out and tenderly traced the words on his headstone.
William Arthur Weasley
Husband, father, son, brother, friend.
Life is not measured by the breaths we take
But by the moments that take our breath away
29th November 1970 – May 21st 2015
Beyond is the infinite morning of a day without tomorrow
She had not been able to think of an epitaph without becoming slightly hysterical and was pleased with Hermione's choice of wording. Not that anyone could be pleased with the epitaph of their soul-mate but she still appreciated it. She just didn't understand how he could have left her so soon.
"Maman?" Victoire's voice startled her out of her reverie and she looked up at her oldest daughter, dressed in black with tear tracks running down her beautiful face. Teddy Lupin was standing closely behind her, looking down at her with concern. "Maman, Dominique is crying for you," she reported with a sniff and then, news shared, turned into the circle of Teddy's arms and walked away. Fleur knew her daughter didn't want to cry in front of her.
She returned her gaze to the grave before her and hiccupped back another sob as she drew out a delicate lace handkerchief to wipe her tears on. Then she bent forwards and rested her head on the cold stone.
"My Bill…" she whispered, kissed the white marble, and then she stood to go and attend to Dominique, tearing her eyes away from the grave with difficulty.
