Chapter 2: Bravery and Underpants

The Portkey brought the two honeymooners to a small, quaint, whitewashed cottage, which came complete with a charmed thatch roof (which kept the rot and the pests out). It would not do to be throttled by a mouse on the first night, after all. Fleur ran ahead and took in the view, stretching her arms out as though she were flying, while Bill stood behind her and watched how radiant she looked in the late afternoon light.

For the first time since the war was over, the war truly felt over. A great weight shifted off of BIll Weasley's shoulders as he watched his wife execute cartwheels in the meadow that lay only a few short paces from the cottage, the sound of bees humming as they gathered nectar from the wide assortment of wildflowers giving Bill an almost a sleepy feeling.

He stretched up to his full height (he'd gotten the height from his mother's side of the family, and Molly agreed that he was almost the spitting image of her twin brothers who had sacrificed themselves in the fight against Voldemort), and yawned loudly.

"Oh, come on, Bill!" Fleur laughed, though she still said his name more like 'Beel,' putting the wrong inflection on his name. She was very serious about sounding more conventionally British and avoiding the irritating lectures she often got from the Diagon Alley merchants about being difficult to understand while her mother-in-law stood nearby with a smug expression on her face. During the War, Fleur had practiced speaking better English for many long hours in Shell Cottage as there was often not much else to do.

"Your English is, how you say, most inflexible!" Fleur had grumbled, tossing her language book to the floor. It slid across the varnished wooden surface and made a loud thwack as it hit the base of the bookshelf across the room.

Bill had merely given her a sympathetic expression but said nothing and gave her some space. She always worked through her frustration best when no one made the mistake of offering useless platitudes.

Ten minutes later, he'd heard her rise from her chair, grumbling swear words under her breath in French as she went to fetch the discarded book.

And, bit by bit, she'd gotten better. Fleur never gave up, after all. She would fight to her dying breath if it meant she would finally achieve her goals. And it was then that Bill finally realized exactly why the Goblet had chosen Fleur as a Champion all those years ago.

"Bill? Beeeeeell? Why are you standing there like zee fish with mouth agape?" Fleur asked playfully, her hands on her hips.

"It's nothing. Can't I simply enjoy watching my amazing wife be amazing?" Bill said with a smile.

He'd never tell her how adorable he thought it sounded, not if he didn't want his bits hexed off.

For Fleur may have been a kind and talented young witch, but she also had a temper and the formidable hexing skills to match.

Fleur ran to him, then, and threw her arms around his waist, her hair practically glowing as she embraced him.

And for that moment, everything was perfect.

"Help! Help! Monster! Monster!"

A voice cried out in the distance and both Bill and Fleur had already drawn their wands. Fleur opened the door to the cottage and they tossed their bags inside before warding the building quickly and setting off in the direction of the voice.

As they crested the hill, they saw a small Wizarding village down a short distance from their honeymoon cottage. A dirt path wound down through the meadow into the village, and they could see a thin, dark thread of smoke escaping into the sky.

It wasn't very far, and as though to spur them onward, a terrified wail pierced the silence.

They looked at each other silently and nodded to one another, both taking off at a sprint towards the sound.

The roof of a small storage shed was on fire, flames licking the thatched roof.

"MY BABY!" screamed a woman, who had been restrained by two teenaged boys, "She's still in there! NO! I MUST GO TO HER!"

Fleur pointed her wand at the roof and a jet of water poured from the tip of her wand, but the flames seemed to think this was humorous, licking through the jets of water with a cackling hiss.

"What the devil?" Bill said, frowning.

Fleur noticed as well, and she changed tactics. She turned her wand upon herself and covered her entire body with a Bubble Charm. This created a cushioning wall between her and any outside influence. Bill was impressed. The last time he'd seen her use this particular charm, she'd only been able to cover her head. Now it covered her from head to toe like an invisible diver's suit.

Bill blasted the door off of the structure, pulling it away so that Fleur could sprint inside, blasting cooling jets of air from his wand, which merely pushed the flames back, but at least it gave Fleur the ability to get inside.

Moments later, she'd reappeared with a little soot-covered bundle.

"She ees ok, I theenk," Fleur said breathlessly as she handed the little squirming baby over to her mother.

The woman collapsed with relief, her face wet with tears.

"Oh, merci beaucoup! Thank you!" she cried, kissing her squirming baby all over her face until the infant began to cry.

Bill, meanwhile, had placed a containment spell around the structure, which kept the flames from spreading.

"It's Fiendfyre, isn't it?" Fleur said quietly, as Bill held the spell until the flames finally burnt themselves out.

"But who would use such a thing?" Bill replied irritably, "Everyone knows that Fiendfyre is impossible to control. If we hadn't been here, it could have engulfed half of the countryside before the proper authorities could be dispatched."

Fleur turned and spoke in French to the woman and her teenaged sons. From the expressions on their faces, it seemed obvious to Bill that they had no idea how the fire had started, and Fleur confirmed this fact moments later. To be sure, Fleur cast Priori Incantatem on their wands, but they found nothing out of the ordinary.

The woman insisted on giving them both a fresh baguette that the family had been saving for their own supper, and they took it without too much protest, eating pieces as they walked back up the hill together their cottage.

"Well, that was odd," Bill said, "I suppose I ought not to send back a postcard detailing this particular part of our honeymoon. Mum would blow a gasket, I think."

"There is something else that I doubt your mother would want to know about," Fleur said suggestively, giving him a smouldering sidelong glance, "But I promise that zis particular something will be far more enjoyable."

Bill swallowed his mouthful of bread loudly and felt his face go scarlet. He didn't blush often, but there was something about how Fleur said such things that made his mind go wild with speculation.

And the reality that followed very rarely disappointed.

The next morning, after sleeping in quite longer than they had intended (for their night had, indeed been full of a number of diversions that did not fail to satisfy), they went down into the town for a late morning coffee and to buy a couple of essentials that had been left behind at Shell Cottage.

Much to Bill's chagrin, he'd found that he had forgotten to pack more than one set of underpants, and was sorely in need of at least a couple others to last him through the trip. He did not fancy having to do laundry each night or wear soggy underpants, especially not on his honeymoon. Fleur had forgotten her brush, which had been disastrous as far as she was concerned. Her silvery hair whirled around her like a river with conflicting currents and there was something wildly beautiful (albeit unintentional) about her morning appearance.

Still, Bill knew better than to mention this, as Fleur was blushing madly, embarrassed at her appearance. She'd pulled a beanie over her head to try and hide the whorls of hair, but it only pushed them down over her shoulders in an unruly silver cascade.

"Don't worry," Bill said softly, as they walked into town hand in hand, "They'll be too busy looking at my scars to stare at you."

Fleur blushed more deeply.

"You should not say zings like zat!" she replied, "It is not your fault-"

"It doesn't matter," Bill said, "I'm used to it."

"Hmph!" Fleur sniffed, "If I see one person treat you poorly zen I shall give zem a piece of my mind!"

"Woe to anyone who crosses Fleur Weasley," Bill said with a smile.

Fleur grinned back, "Naturellement."

"These aren't underpants!" Bill complained, "They're burlap sacks with leg holes!"

Fleur spoke to the man at the counter, who nodded, bringing out a large wooden rectangle that had been wrapped round many times with a soft-looking white cloth.

"Now you see here-" Bill started, before Fleur glanced back at him warningly.

She advised the shopkeeper to cut a certain length of the fabric, which was wrapped in paper and tied with string. She paid quickly for it and handed it to Bill.

"Your mother is not the only Weasley who can sew," she said simply, smirking at Bill's expression as he snapped to attention, "I shall be happy to make you more underthings. Zat way you shall always know my fingers have run over every inch of fabric placed so softly against your skin."

She drew closer to him, sliding her index finger down his nose and kissing him lightly on the lips. Bill felt as though he was about to melt into a puddle and silently cursed the fact that they'd still have to walk all the way back to the cottage before they could toss aside their robes once more.

In fact, he was so distracted by Fleur's wide eyes that he didn't see the giant black bird bearing down on him until it was too late.

"Crawwww!" chortled the giant raven, as it snatched the package from his arms.

Fleur shouted something unrepeatable in polite company at the massive creature, pulling out her wand, but in only a few flaps, the bird had crested the tree line and disappeared into the dark forest beyond.

Fleur's face was scarlet with rage. A bright light appeared at the tip of her wand and she stormed into the trees so quickly that Bill was still standing there in shock when he realized that he should follow her.

"Bloody birds," he muttered, jogging towards the treeline, "Bloody dark bloody forests. Fleur? You don't have to do this! It's fine! I'll just make do with the burlap sacks!"

But there was no answer.

And when Bill finally stumbled into a shadowy clearing in the forest, he realized that he didn't know which way led back to the village.

And Fleur was nowhere to be seen.