Bill woke up late in the night. As silent as he could, he got up and walked out of the room. He opened the back door and felt the cool winter air on his face. He looked out on the sea, but all he really saw was the small grave Harry had set up for the house-elf. From this distance, he couldn't tell that it was smaller than most graves. If it had instead been on a green lawn well beyond the Weasley household, it might have been Fred's.
"Bill?" He heard the wonderful, lilting voice of his wife behind him, but he didn't turn around. "Iz everytheeng alright?"
Bill nodded slowly. He was lying. He felt terrible.
She slipped next to him and put her arms around him. "Ze dream again?"
He nodded again and she squeezed him lightly. "'e loved you." He bit his lip but didn't say anything. "I remember ze first time you brought me to meet your family." She half laughed at the memory, "'e put somezing in your soup so it exploded all over you, and zen 'e asked me to pick him over –what waz it?—oh, yes, soup face!"
He bit his lip, but he couldn't help but smile. He had been so mad at Fred that day. "And you picked soup face." He said.
"Well, you were yummier." He couldn't help but laugh.
For a long time they stood there, watching the sea. After a while, he realized she was watching him concerned. He put his arms around her and pulled her into a kiss. "Don't worry about me, sweetheart."
"I can't 'elp it." She said, "I'm your wife. I zee you 'urting and I want to 'elp." She stroked his hair out of his face.
"There's nothing you can do, honey. I'll be fine, I promise you." She rested her head on his chest and held him close. He leaned down and kissed her hair.
He wished she could help. Every time he began to feel happy, he remembered how happy Fred had been, and his happiness vanished. Every night, he dreamed about the last time he saw Fred, and he kept trying to tell him things, how much he loved him, how he would miss him, but the words were never able to leave his lips, and the harder he tried, the further away Fred got.
You can't be unhappy forever, said a voice in the back of his mind, Look at Fleur. She wants you to be happy. Can't you try for her?
He looked down at his wife. Being happy isn't as easy as just wanting or trying. He told the voice, I can't just make myself happy, or I would do it.
Try
He bit his lip again before saying, "Fleur?" he asked. She made a noise that told him she was listening. "We never got a chance to go on our honeymoon. But, the war's over now. What'd'ya say we take a trip to the South of France next week?"
She pulled away and smiled at her husband. "I would love to go on a 'oneymoon trip! But not France, zomeplace new. Oh, but—" she stopped, and suddenly looked fearful, "But maybee we shouldn't. I don't know if—" she bit her lip and continued, "if it would be bad for the babee."
Bill blinked multiple times and stared at her before the message managed to get through. "Baby?" he asked, stupidly. The wind picked up and blew Fleur's hair around so she looked more radiant than ever. She began smiling at his dumbfounded expression. "Baby?"
"Babee," She confirmed, "I was going to tell you tomorrow, but you seemed to need zomething to—to look forward to."
He smiled at her, and then the news really hit him. "Baby! I'm going to be a Dad! You're going to be a Mum!"
"I zink even living in England I will teach my children to call me Maman." She grinned as he smiled even wider and shook his head.
"I don't believe it. What are we going to do? We need to buy things, and set up a room here, and—"
"I zink ze first zing we need to do," She grabbed his head and held it steady, "Iz get time off work for our 'oneymoon. I zink ze baby and I could manage a nice vacation in ze mountains. Ze Alpes, maybee?" Bill nodded, suddenly too excited to sleep. A baby! "Maybee," Fleur said, hesitantly, "Maybee we could name ze baby Fred? If it was a boy, of course."
Bill grimaced "I think George is going to want that name reserved."
Fleur nodded and smiled up at him.
He smiled back at her. He pulled her back into an embrace. Thanks, Fred.