Things weren't going according to plan. Bill was starting to realize he was going to have to accept that as his new normal.
Seven people dropping in on him in the middle of the night after escaping Death Eaters wasn't something he had on his agenda for the week, nor was abandoning his job and what minimal freedom he had to go into full hiding. If someone had told him that morning he would be attending a house elf's funeral and would now be hosting his grave on his property—one Harry had even created a small tombstone for—he would have had several questions for them.
But that was becoming the climate of the times. There would always now be more questions than answers. And currently, Bill had so many questions.
"Once Ollivander and Griphook are well enough, we'll move them to Muriel's too," he told Harry once he'd finally finished laying Dobby to rest and come up to the house to inquire about what was happening. Bill had caught him up with how the rest of his family had fled the Burrow and was staying at Muriel's; he'd let him in on how they were now in hiding and using the Fidelius Charm.
"Griphook's legs are on the mend," he continued. "Fleur's given him Skele-Gro. We could probably move them in a hour or—"
"No," Harry had said so bluntly that it gave Bill pause. When he looked at him, he could already tell given the look in Harry's eyes that he was not messing around; he wasn't even going to attempt to play polite or argue.
"I need both of them here," he added, sounding as if that wasn't up for negotiation. "I need to talk to them. It's important."
Everyone else in the room—even Ron and Hermione—looked confused. For a brief moment, Bill couldn't help but want to pull rank in his home, just as he had with Griphook. But with Harry he didn't sense disrespect, he sensed…well, he wasn't sure what he sensed. He had questions, but he'd let Harry finish speaking his piece before he asked them.
He glanced at Fleur. She was sitting against the arm of the sofa with her arms crossed, staring at Harry with a furrowed brow as if silently willing him to finish his thought.
"I'm going to wash," Harry said, examining his dirty, bloodstained hands. "Then I'll need to see them, straightaway."
And with that, he left the sitting room to head to the kitchen. There was no further explanation.
Bill blinked for a second before looking over at Ron and Hermione for some clue as to what that was. Fleur was looking at them too, though neither offered anything more than hesitant shrugs or mystified expressions. Ron's face alone seemed to silently say, "That's Harry for you…"
"'E 'as to speak to zem right now?" Fleur said, standing up. "Zis moment? What iz so important it cannot wait?"
Ron squirmed a bit, exchanging a quick glance with Hermione—which was the only thing Bill could count on his brother to do right now. "I mean, can you blame him? He lives day to day not knowing if there will ever be more time. Just a few hours ago, we could have died." He gestured to Hermione. "Look at how they were hurting her."
Hurting her or torturing her for information? Bill wanted to ask. Because given all the context clues he had gathered from what little information Ron had given up, this seemed a lot less that they pushed Hermione around to rough her up, and more like they tortured her at the hands of a nasty curse.
Yet, neither Ron and Hermione would even admit to that. What information did the Death Eaters want so badly that they tortured Hermione for it? He had a hard time believing it was just whether or not Harry was who he said he was. There were easier ways to figure that out.
Bill reached up and ran his hand on the back of his neck, still finding himself with more questions than answers. As he glanced toward the kitchen, he decided he was going to level with Harry then. A part of him believed Ron and Hermione were just following orders—likely Harry's orders—not to talk. If that were the case, then perhaps Bill could simply go to the source.
It seemed Fleur had a similar desire to want to talk to Harry because she was already moving toward the kitchen with a purpose, mumbling, "Zey are resting right now. 'E should not…"
Bill followed her, both of them stopping next to the stairs when they noticed Harry was finishing up washing his hands and returning in their direction. He stopped when he noticed them both staring at him.
"I need to speak to Griphook and Ollivander," he said, apparently feeling the need to remind them for some reason.
"No," Fleur said. "You will 'ave to wait, 'Arry. Zey are both ill, tired—"
"I'm sorry," Harry said, not sounding sorry at all, "but it can't wait. I need to talk to them now. Privately—and separately. It's urgent."
"Harry, what the hell's going on?" Bill asked, forcing himself not to raise his voice, but finding himself at his wits end at this point. "You turn up here with a dead house-elf and a half-conscious goblin, Hermione looks as though she'd been tortured, and Ron's just refused to tell me anything—"
"We can't tell you what we're doing," Harry said without a trace of remorse. "You're in the Order, Bill, you know Dumbledore left us a mission. We're not supposed to talk about it to anyone else."
Fleur didn't even attempt to hide her aggravation at that, audibly tutting, but given her history of being kept out of things, particularly Order related business in those early days, that was to be expected.
He, however, bit his tongue. He would not lie and say he wasn't frustrated beyond words and felt it was all rather stupid to keep these secrets when they were all on the same team, but it wasn't as if he hadn't been on the opposite side of big secrets before. After all, he was the reason Fleur had no patience for it all; he was the one who'd left her in the dark for a year because he wasn't "supposed to talk about it to anyone else."
He'd been lucky up until this point to be privy to most information the Order floated around, but that didn't mean he was privy to all of it. It didn't mean he had to like it.
"All right," he finally muttered, knowing Harry wasn't budging and figuring they may as well get this over with then. "Who do you want to talk to first?"
"Griphook," Harry said. "I'll speak to Griphook first."
Fleur wasn't happy with the arrangement, but she hid it well enough as she disappeared into the kitchen without a word. Bill proceeded to lead the way upstairs, hoping Harry knew what he was doing when it came to the notoriously curmudgeon goblin. He had half a mind to warn him, but given the way Harry was acting, he evidently knew what he was dealing with. If he didn't, he was likely in for a rude awakening.
He'd led Harry—as well as Ron and Hermione, who'd also come up after Harry called for them—to he and Fleur's room, figuring it was the best place for them to have their private meeting. After telling them to wait there, he walked back into the corridor and to the bedroom that Ollivander and Griphook were sharing.
As the door creaked open, the old wizard's eyes fluttered awake; Griphook also looked as if he'd been lying with his eyes closed prior to the interruption, though he didn't seem as startled when Bill stopped in front of his bed.
"Harry wants to speak to you."
The goblin grimaced. "I wish to rest."
"I'm aware, but it's important," Bill said, glancing over at Ollivander. "He's asked to speak to you as well, but he's requested it be done separately. Which means one of you will need to moved—"
"I cannot move," Griphook said obviously, grimacing again. "We have established this."
"Well aware," Bill said, moving to the side of the bed. "But you can be carried. You were quite clear about that."
With that, he reached down and gently lifted Griphook off the bed. He'd barely raised him a few inches before Griphook snapped, "The sword! Do not leave the sword!"
"You're coming back. We're only going down the corridor—"
"The sword!"
For the love of…Bill gritted his teeth as he lowered Griphook back down to collect his precious sword—why was there a sword here again?—before picking him back up. He carried him out of the room, back down to his bedroom and set him on the bed to an awaiting audience.
Griphook actually grunted in a way that almost seemed to be appreciative of Bill's assistance, but Bill didn't stick around for anything more. He shut the door behind him as he left.
Just outside his bedroom, he found Fleur and Dean having come up the stairs. Fleur was carrying a stack of clean towels and pointing Dean in the direction of the bath. She proceeded to hand him a clean one off the top of the stack.
Bill threw him a polite smile as they passed, Dean clearly on his way to have a proper wash up for the first time in…who knew how long? So many people in this house were in desperate need of a shower, which only reminded him of what Muriel had said earlier—"Nine people and one bathroom!"
"Dean came with no extra clozes," Fleur said, moving along into the third and smallest bedroom as she spoke. "None of zem do. You and I will need to do somezing about zat."
She was using the tone she tended to use when she was annoyed, but didn't want to talk about it. When she felt like this, she tended to avoid direct eye contact and instead distract herself with tasks like carrying towels around and worrying about people's wardrobes.
Bill knew better than to get in her way.
While he didn't follow her into the room, he came to a stop at the doorway. "We can use a Doubling Charm on our clothes. You take the girls, I'll do the lads."
She hummed to agree, setting the towels down on a nearby dresser and pulling out her wand. It seemed she already had Double Charms on her mind because with a few flicks, the single bed in the room multiplied itself into two. The room wasn't very large to begin with, so it now looked especially crowded.
"We may fit two in 'ere," she said, now flicking her wand at the dresser. Bed linens and pillows sprung out from the drawers, were multiplied several times over, and the beds began to make themselves up.
"Put the girls in here," Bill offered, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Keep Ollivander and Griphook next door until they're allowed to leave. Boys can sleep in the sitting room."
She hummed as if to agree again, but did slowly turn to look at him. "What could zey possibly want wiz Griphook?"
He shrugged. "No idea, but I hope it's nothing important. You know bloody well Griphook's interests start and end with him."
Fleur didn't immediately respond, seemingly lost in thought, but she did eventually walk over to him and hand him a stack of pillows and linens. "Take zese downstairs for ze boys."
He did as he was told, realizing as he ventured downstairs that it was now early morning. The sun was pushing itself further up in the sky with each passing minute, illuminating the sitting room more and more. After the commotion of the last few hours and how crowded the house currently was, it felt strange to find only Luna downstairs. She was resting her head on the armrest of the sofa, sleeping.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione were in the room with Griphook for a half and hour. They spent another half an hour with Ollivander in the other bedroom, but seeing as they'd needed privacy, that had meant they'd left Griphook behind in Bill's bedroom and he couldn't even properly be there without the goblin eyeing his every move. He wasn't a fan of that.
Eventually, he and Fleur had gone to gather clothes and charm extra items for their guests to wear. They'd spent that hour getting everything situated for everyone, while Dean and Luna had spent their time washing up. The boys were fortunately all roughly Bill's size, so his clothes would fit them without much need for change. Fleur was taller than either of the girls, so she would need to alter things.
"Oh, I have clothes for myself, Harry, and Ron," Hermione had said once the three of them had finally returned from their secret meeting, finding the rest of them in the kitchen eating some of the eggs and toast that Fleur had quickly thrown together. Dean and Luna had just been debating whether it was breakfast before bed or a very late night snack.
"I'd managed to save them when we were captured," Hermione continued, taking off her shoe to reveal a small bag that had been stuffed down her sock. By the looks of it, it wasn't much bigger than a small purse, so Bill found himself curious as to how she had anything more than some Sickles in there, let alone clothes.
But the bag was apparently charmed, because she reached down into it, past her elbow, and pulled out a striped t-shirt as proof. A moment later, a pair of trousers appeared.
"I'll need to do some laundry, but we've got some clothes," Hermione said.
"But if you're offering," Ron said, immediately taking a place at the table next to Dean and helping himself to eggs. "I'll be happy to take some trousers off you, Bill. Hermione packed much of my old stuff, and it's short on me. It'd be nice to have some that fit."
"Perhaps next time, you should pack your own things," Hermione muttered, though that was as much of a rebuttal as Ron got because she was yawning widely in the next second. She almost looked as if she was too tired to eat, but pushed through and plucked up a piece of toast. They all ate in relative silence for a minute after that.
"Eat then sleep," Ron finally said with his mouthful. "I'm knackered."
Bill offered him a lazy grin, sipping his tea as he looked over at Harry. He'd been quiet since arriving in the kitchen, having silently scarfed down three pieces of toast as he stood off to the side of the room. He seemed startled when he noticed Bill was watching him.
"You get what you need upstairs with those two?" Bill asked.
Harry shrugged noncommittally.
Bill nodded, knowing he wasn't getting anymore than that. He looked over at Fleur, who was removing her apron and setting it down on the counter.
"Does zis mean zey are free to go to Muriel's once we can arrange it?"
"You know, the more I look at Ollivander," Bill said to her, "the more I think he's in no shape to move yet. I'd hoped once he'd got some of those potions in him, it would have helped, but it doesn't seem to be working. He still looks awful."
"You would be too if you had been trapped and tortured for nearly two years," said Luna.
"Right," Bill said, not disagreeing. "Obviously." He looked back at Fleur. "But I don't think the trip is good for him right now. He'll need a few more days, at least."
Fleur looked to be chewing the inside of her cheek, but nodded. After over a year at the Burrow, Bill knew she sometimes struggled with having loads of people contained in a smaller space; that it was hard for her to relax under those circumstances. Even he—who grew up under those conditions—found it harder to live under these days. He'd adapt mostly, but he could understand Fleur's unease.
Add to that, he knew that Griphook made her uncomfortable, so she was likely especially on edge at the moment.
Bill cleared his throat. "But we can move Griphook later on—"
"No," Harry suddenly said. "I need Griphook to stay here."
Bill couldn't even pretend to not be miffed by that declaration. He stared at Harry, silently waiting for him to let them know why that was.
"I need some…answers from him," Harry muttered. "Answers he….well, he hasn't decided yet whether or not he's going to give them to me."
Fleur didn't even attempt to hide her aggravated sigh. If Bill had to guess, nothing in that sentence about a goblin playing hardball surprised her. It sure as hell didn't surprise him.
"And if he doesn't give them to you?" Bill asked.
Harry shrugged. "It'll make some things difficult, but I'm hoping he'll come around."
"Hoping?" Bill muttered to himself, choosing not to finish his thought out loud. You don't hope with goblins, you make deals. Deals that generally benefit them far more than you.
"And if you get zese answers," Fleur said to Harry, her arms crossed over her chest. "Will Griphook be free to leave after zat?"
Harry shook his head. "It's more complicated than that. But there really isn't a scenario where Griphook leaving is something I see happening soon." He mustered an apologetic sort of shrug. "I'm sorry, but I'll need him here for as long as I can get him."
Bill looked over at Fleur, knowing that news wasn't going to sit well with her at all. She wasn't quite glaring at Harry, but it was close to it. She finally turned away and seemed extremely invested in cooking off the rest of the eggs.
At the table, the others seemed to sense the awkwardness. Dean had becoming hyper-focused on buttering toast; Ron taking extra large bites and avoiding Bill's gaze; Hermione was absently pushing eggs around her plate, and Luna…well, truthfully she seemed genuinely more interested in staring out the window, as if that just happened to be what was catching her attention at the moment.
Bill picked up his tea cup and took a large gulp. Well, this should be fun….
Fleur could count the number of times she had to share a space with this many people on one hand, and they were almost entirely Burrow related instances. A Christmas here and there, the wedding…They had all created an environment full of people practically sleeping on top of each other. A single bathroom to share, noises and voices at all times, struggling to find a place for a moment of solitude—she could deal with it in small doses and for a few days.
However, it became much harder when those days now looked to be stretching on without an end in sight. Because that is what this was turning into when no one seemed to be interested in moving to Muriel's.
"As much as I'd love to see Ginny, I would prefer to stay here if I can," Luna had told Fleur after everyone had finally got a good night's sleep and things were calming down after the events of the day prior. She had asked Luna if she was interested in moving in an attempt to make a bit more space around the cottage.
Because as it were, Ollivander wasn't ready to leave and Harry had asked that Griphook remain. Moving Harry was out of the question for safety reasons, and with Ron and Hermione staying where he went, that left only two other people who they could reasonably ask to venture to Muriel's to help alleviate some of the crowding.
"It's the most lovely place to be, especially after having been trapped in a cellar for months," Luna added, smiling. "The sea, the flowers, the sunshine, the collection of nargles in your lavender garden…All of it is so lovely. I don't think I'd have any of that at Ron's aunt's, would I?'
"You would not," Fleur said, knowing she had a point. It was their own fault for having chosen such an amazing location to live. Who could blame the girl, really?
That left Dean, whose answer was rather similar—what with him complimenting how nice their home and the sea views were—but it was also a bit more loaded.
"I'll leave if you need me to," he'd said, though his tone didn't exactly seem keen on the idea.
"It is not…" Fleur began once it was just the two of them in the kitchen that afternoon, him having wandered in for water. "We are simply trying to make things as comfortable for everyone as we can. Bill's aunt has more space. Here, we're all on top of each other."
Dean begrudged a nod, just as Harry passed through the kitchen without comment. That was proving not to be unusual, Fleur was learning; Harry not talking seemed to be the norm now, as was him immediately going outside to sit by the cliffs and watch the sea. He'd been out there since he'd woken up a few hours prior, having only come in to grab a glass of water and—in this instance—use the loo.
Fleur watched him disappear out the kitchen door before turning back to Dean, noticing that he too was watching Harry with a strange sort of expression. Once he caught her eye, his face returned to neutral.
"I'll go wherever you need me to," Dean said.
She smiled. Wonderful. Good to have that settled. She'd tell Bill as soon as he returned from the errand he's left to perform and they could make the arrangements.
Dean, however, was not smiling. He instead slumped into a chair at the kitchen table rather morosely. It made her want to reinforce that he was making the right choice by adding, "I have never been to Muriel's, but I have heard it is very nice. She has two house elves. Many bedrooms. You will have your own space there."
He forced a polite smile, but said nothing.
"And the Weasleys are there," she continued. "You are all Gryffindors, yes? You will have company in the twins and Ginny."
At that, his eyebrows jumped in a way that said he was well aware of that. "Great."
His sarcasm was not lost on her.
"Do you have an issue with…?" she began.
"No, it's not…" He shrugged. "It's fine. The twins are a laugh. It's more…Ginny and I have a past, so it's sort of…strange."
"Ohhhh," Fleur said, having just remembered. Right. This was that Dean. Ginny's ex-boyfriend. The one she dated before Harry and—if Fleur was correct in her assumption—the one Ginny had hoped would help her get over Harry.
Except he didn't. She'd never got over Harry. That meant Dean had mostly been a placeholder—someone who'd been in a relationship with a person who could not help their feelings for someone else.
But did he know that…?
She suddenly looked out the window, watching Harry in the distance down by the cliffs. Whether Dean knew about Ginny's feelings for Harry, he was obviously aware that she'd moved on to him after the fact.
And they were both currently here…
She looked back at him. "I had forgotten about you and Ginny."
He forced another smile. "Yeah, she did too."
She noticed his eyes flashed toward the door Harry had just exited through for a brief second.
"Things…did they not end well?" she asked tentatively.
He shrugged, just as Luna made her way into the kitchen with freshly picked sea lavender in her hand. She'd been collecting flowers all day, adding them to a jam jar and into the bouquet she'd gathered earlier. It was currently on the kitchen table, growing larger by the hour.
"It wasn't great," Dean muttered. "But we don't hate each other or anything. She did send me that letter to warn me. But honestly…" He paused and sighed. "It was ages ago, it doesn't even matter. We just haven't talked much since we split, so… the idea going off and being stuck in hiding with her and her family—"
"—is awkward?" Fleur finished for him, now understanding why he may not be so keen on the idea.
"A bit, yeah."
She nodded, understanding now where he was coming from. Outside of the natural strangeness of the situation, she—more than anyone—could sympathize with the awkward force of the Weasley family as a whole when you were an outsider. That, plus just having to deal with an ex day-to-day…
"Are we talking about Ginny?" Luna asked, having taken a seat at the table and looking over at Dean. Once he nodded, she added, "Yes, I can see how that would be strange for both of you if you left to stay with her."
Fleur could see it too, and was now reconsidering sending him away. That would mean they'd retain all nine people here if he stayed, but honestly,what was one more person? Was there really a difference between eight people and nine?
She sighed, knowing already what to do. Go figure, she'd finally found someone willing to go and here she was putting a stop to it.
"If it will be easier for everyone, then you should stay here," she said. "Why cause more stress in such stressful times? We will make do."
"You're sure?" Dean said, not even pretending to tell her that was unnecessary. "I mean, I will go if you need me to, but…if I can stay, I'd like to. Not even just the Ginny thing, it's just…" He gestured toward the window. "Everything here is so beautiful and peaceful. If I had to be stuck anywhere…"
Fleur smiled. "I understand. And of course you are welcome to stay. As long as you do not mind sleeping in the sitting room with Ron and Harry."
He shook his head. "Doesn't bother me at all."
Then it was decided. Nine people had arrived the day before and nine people would remain. She could only hope that Harry would get whatever he needed from Griphook soon and that she could at least be rid of him. He was doing nothing but complaining about the food she'd served him and the hardness of the bed today. Every time she went into that room, something else was a problem.
"I'm glad you're staying," Luna said, speaking to Dean. "I like Harry, Ron, and Hermione very much, but they've been very busy together and seem to be planning something in private. It's good to have more people to talk to."
Dean offered her a lazy smile, and Fleur couldn't help but smile as well. This Luna was a sweet girl, despite some of her more strange comments and observations. Also, she could put together a rather lovely bouquet of flowers, as exhibited by the centerpiece in the table she'd just finished arranging.
"I'm also glad to hear you're not bothered by Harry after everything that happened with Ginny," Luna added. "I'd have thought you might be. People often are."
Dean didn't respond to that. He was vacantly staring at the flowers.
"Why did you think that?" Fleur asked, even if she already knew the obvious answer.
Yes, she was prodding and being nosy, but if she were being honest, she had already picked up on a bit of a mood on Dean's end when it came to Harry. The strange look she'd caught him giving Harry just minutes earlier; the fact that they barely interacted or spoke to each other much. For two people who'd apparently spent years together as roommates, they'd felt rather distant.
Though, on Harry's end, the distance and lack of talking seemed to simply be his demeanor these days; it was how he was treating anyone who wasn't Ron and Hermione.
On Dean's end, it felt a bit more intentional.
Luna looked over at her. "Harry dated Ginny very soon after she and Dean were over." She reached out to adjust a flower. "Days, I think." She looked back at Dean. "Was it days?"
Dean again didn't respond, but he also didn't contradict her.
Luna sat back in her chair. "I can't imagine that would have been easy to see. Especially since you and Ginny had been together for all those months and she moved on so quickly. But I also suspect she's had a bit of a crush on Harry for ages, so it makes sense she took the opportunity when it came. She was very happy when they got together."
At that, Dean closed his eyes, clearly wanting to be anywhere else instead of having this conversation. Fleur really couldn't blame him.
Before Luna could say anything more, Fleur interjected with, "But the two of you…that is forgiven? Yes or…?"
Dean shrugged rather lamely. "I…suppose. Yeah. It's Harry. What choice do you have? You can't think about it."
Fleur wasn't entirely sure what that meant, and her expression must have said as much because Dean added, "It's fine. I wouldn't say it's like it used to be—he did swoop right in—but all that seems unimportant now. Who has time to hold grudges? If it weren't for him saving all of our arses, who knows where I'd be? Dead, probably."
Beside him, Luna was nodding. "We'd certainly still be trapped in a cellar if it weren't for him and Dobby." She looked over at Fleur. "Well, I suppose you wouldn't."
Fleur slowly shook her head. No, she wouldn't be.
But given this small conversation, she at least had a better understanding of the situation. Clearly there was some slight, residual animosity from Dean when it came to Harry's business with Ginny, but he seemed to be displaying a rather mature response to the whole thing; realizing there were more important things to worry about.
That was respectable. Fleur certainly wouldn't have been that mature at that age if one of her friends had "swooped right in", as Dean put it, on her ex. But she'd also had the luxury of not having a war to distract her from her social life or its drama.
It was amazing how war put things into perspective.
Bill returned not long after, having gone to meet Remus and Kingsley at a secure location after sending them a Patronus so that he could fill them in on the events of the last night. Things had gone well—Tonks and her mother were still grieving, but Tonks was doing her best to keep herself calm for the baby. Remus and Kingsley were happy to hear Harry and everyone else was alive and well, and curious to know more about this plan of Harry's. All Bill could offer was that Harry was keeping things very quiet.
"That didn't seem to surprise either of them," Bill said, hanging his cloak up near the front door. "But I let them both in on the cottage's secret in case of emergencies. All in all, things went about as well as they could. Kingsley's convinced the events of last night will have some real blowback, but it's too early to say what. But we all know You-Know-Who doesn't take kindly to being made a fool of. "
Fleur nodded. That was to be expected. The question was when and how the blowback would occur. How many people would have to suffer because of it?
"Did you get a chance to ask Dean or Luna about Muriel's?" he asked.
"Oh, they will both be staying."
That seemed to surprise him.
"They both have their reasons. Luna is this sweet child of nature. The sea and the fresh air is helping her heal after her time in that dank cellar. And Dean…" She shrugged. "He did say he would go, but that it would be very awkward given his past with your sister."
Bill's expression seemed to say that thought hadn't occurred to him until she'd mentioned it. "I keep forgetting about them. Do you know if they dated for long?"
"I would guess close to a year."
"Oh shit," Bill muttered, pulling a face. "I didn't realize…" He paused for a second. "Did she break up with him or…?"
She nodded. "And apparently she was dating Harry very shortly after."
Bill pulled another face, this one a little more wide eyed. He mumbled, "I do not miss dating," before sighing. "I could see how that would be weird for him and Ginny." He looked back at her. "Wait, are he and Harry…?"
"Apparently fine, if not a bit cool with each other."
Bill let a humorless laugh escape him. "Well, Harry's been rather cool with everyone lately, hasn't he?" He shifted his weight on his feet. "But you're fine with it, I'm fine with it. Let them all stay."
"I am fine with it today," she said slowly, "Though, that is likely because Dean and Luna do not ask for much." She let her gaze travel up the stairs. "Unlike…"
She didn't finish that sentence; she merely let her sour expression send the message.
Bill walked over, wrapped his arms around her, and gave her a quick squeeze. "I'll deal with Griphook. He's a bit less hostile with me and it's not as if I haven't been dealing with him for nearly a decade."
She let herself be hugged, but did look up at him wearily. "He has rejected every meal I have taken to the room today. Everything is 'wizard rubbish.' He demands raw meat and fresh fungi."
He released her. "Fungi? Do we even have…?"
"Luna has offered to collect any that we may need from the nearby woods. Dean has offered to go with her to keep an eye out, though he would need to borrow a wand since his was taken."
"Yes, let's risk everyone getting caught and captured for some bloody mushrooms," he muttered with a roll of his eyes, moving toward the sitting room. "What's everyone else been up to?"
She grabbed his arm and walked him over to the window, gesturing outside to where Harry was sitting—currently with Ron and Hermione flanking either side of him. They'd been out there for the last hour.
"Harry has been there all day, though Ron and Hermione come and go. When they are not with Harry, they are usually off walking and talking somewhere."
"Have they spoken more to Griphook?" he asked. "Or to Ollivander?"
Fleur shook her head. "Not that I have seen. Luna, you, and I are the only people who have gone in and out of that room."
Bill nodded, though he looked lost in thought. She knew it was driving him mad to not know what was happening around him, but he was being surprisingly quiet about it all.
He turned from the window and scanned the sitting room; his gaze falling on a small pile of things that belonged to the boys. Seeing that three of them were sleeping here, their clothes and the few possessions they'd salvaged were currently accumulating in the corner of the room. Most of the things seemed fairly typical, though one object stood out from the rest.
A long silver sword, its inset laid with rubies, was lying just underneath a recently laundered stack of shirts. It was a beautiful relic, if not oddly placed among the t-shirts and shoes. Fleur couldn't be sure who it belonged to, seeing as Griphook had been the one to bring it here that first night and had been obsessive about keeping it with him once he'd arrived.
However, it now seemed to be in Harry's possession. Fleur had seen him carrying it and keeping it near him when he slept. She had no idea who the sword's rightful owner was.
"What is up with that sword?" Bill suddenly muttered, sounding as if he were thinking out loud.
She shook her head. "It is hard to be sure. Griphook refused to let it out of his sight when he arrived, but now it seems to belong to Harry."
"I noticed that as well." He crossed the room, getting closer to it to examine it without actually touching it. "The metal work that I can see is impeccable. I'd bet any money that it was goblin-made."
"I would have guessed that simply based on Griphook's attachment to it," she said, walking to join him where he was standing.
Bill nodded. "It would certainly explain some things. Goblins are incredibly territorial with the objects they've created. I've told you about that."
He had. She knew all about how, from a goblin's point of view, their creations were meant to forever belong to them. Yes, a wizard could rent and borrow the object for a price, but it should be returned to the goblins once that wizard passed away. Of course, wizards didn't share this opinion—instead keeping these objects as treasured family heirlooms and passing them down from generation to generation. The two cultures treated the ownership of these possessions very differently.
Bill stood up straighter. "Griphook had it, but now it seems to belong to Harry, which makes me wonder whether or not Harry has some claim to it, but Griphook feels ownership because it's goblin-made."
"If he feels it is his, I would think he would not have let Harry take it from him, no?"
Bill hummed, as if pondering that. "He wouldn't have. There would have been a row about it." He knitted his eyebrows. "But he let Harry have it, which is strange. I don't understand."
Neither did she. There were so many questions. Fleur knew she and Bill would drive themselves insane trying to figure them out, so they were trying their best to simply let things play out and help where they could.
But she couldn't help but think of how an answer here and there would make everything tremendously easier to deal with.
A/N: Am I the only one who always wondered why Dean and Luna stayed at Shell Cottage instead of going to Muriel's to free up space? Especially since Bill was so quick in DH to suggest moving Griphook and Ollivander that first night and clearly knew it was an option?
No? Just me then, lol. Yeah, that was something I just felt compelled to write an answer to.
