Epilogue: The Cursebreaker's trial

Goblins were not easy creatures to love. For that, their contempt for all wizards and witches was too strong. It didn't help that it had been earned too. Nothing less hateful than hatred earned. Gringotts hadn't been easy to learn to love either. At first, Bill had resented it for not being the tombs he had so enjoyed breaking into. To go from the thrill of adventure and a constant game of cat and mouse between him and ancient Egyptian wizards, to what was essentially a glorified desk job… it had stung, to trade in a career he'd so adored for something menial.

Yet with Fleur around, it had become impossible to hold a grudge. Everything she touched, she made brighter. A shared smile when Goblins grumbled, a small touch as they passed each other in the hallway or those stolen kisses during breaks, they were what he'd come to live for. Sometimes, he wondered if she was the only thing keeping him sane. Ron and Charlie: gone. The Wizarding World: going up in flames. Darkness, death and destruction all around them. And still, whenever he stumbled into Shell Cottage in the deep of night and collapsed on his bed, Fleur would be there to collapse next to him and all would be well. He could reach out to her, give her a quick hug and then turn on his side, falling asleep within seconds, safe in the knowledge that they had each other and come the morrow, they would still be there.

Of course, his family didn't understand. Sometimes he wondered if they ever would, even if Ginny's changed attitude gave him hope. He couldn't blame them, not really. Fleur could be distant and appear arrogant. She had grown too used to projecting an image to a world that had always and only ever valued her for her beauty. Even at the Triwizard Tournament, that was all she'd been: the pretty girl who came in last. She hated it, wanting to be seen for what she could do, rather than what she had been born with. Because for every door that her looks had opened, expectations and desires had come with it. Perhaps that was why she'd chosen Gringotts: goblins cared little for human conceptions of beauty.

Like Bill, they had recognised the steel inside her. They respected it, whereas he had grown to adore it. Not that they always agreed. They fought a lot. More than most couples and he wasn't so foolish to try to blame it just on the war. Often their fights were about silly things, like household tasks and what constituted proper cuisine. Sometimes they fought about important things, like whether they should keep Ginny safe, or let her do her part. But always he loved her, his lighthouse in the storm.

She rapped him on the head, hard. "You're daydreaming again. Focus."

Bill rubbed his head in feigned hurt. "I was daydreaming about you."

"Cute." She flashed him the kind of smile he'd grown to love over the last few months, one that had survived even the horrors of war, no matter how difficult it was to sometimes draw out of her. Then her face returned to what he'd dubbed her Triwizard Tournament face, a look of cold concentration. "Now focus. You don't want this vault to eat you." She pointed her wand at the massive vault door in front of them.

"I'm ninety percent sure that's just a Goblin fable," Bill protested.

"And we're not risking it. Focus."

To be fair, if there was one vault down here capable of eating aspiring thieves, the Lestrange vault would be it. The massive round vault door looked like an eldritch portal from a long bygone time. The onyx door was inlaid with shimmering runes and carvings of magical creatures that seemed to move as soon as you looked away. It hummed with magic and power. Within were countless treasures and, if they were fortunate, finally fortunate, a Horcrux. The fact that it was more intimidating than even the Malfoy and Rookwood vaults had been gave him hope at least. These were the defences you'd expect for Voldemort's greatest treasure.

"You're right." Bill moved his wand slowly, different runes lighting up in different colours as his detection spells spewed out results that really shouldn't be possible. Anything holding that much magic should by all rights and means implode. Yet somehow, it retained a dangerous equilibrium.

And somehow they would have to unlock it without disturbing that equilibrium. Easy, right?

They had been working on it for four nights now. Not consecutively. Even the Goblins who were so eager to ignore the war or anything related to it, would not be able to ignore that. But they had spent four nights here, crouched in front of this door like supplicants before an Elder God. And had spent twice as many days at home going over their notes and research works. Bill hadn't felt so outwitted since he'd been cramming for his cursebreaker exam.

But he'd passed that. And he would pass this together with Fleur.

"Montserray?" he suggested, pointing at circular rune.

"Yes. And Talley," Fleur added, gesturing at the carving of a manticore above it. "Together?"

"Together." Both their wands glowed briefly with a blue light, and then the two carvings lost their power.

With any other companion, this would have been almost impossible. But he and Fleur knew each other well enough, saving them from a thousand pointless discussions. They communicated in looks, touches and the occasional grunts of frustration.

"We almost got it. I think," Bill added when a particularly nasty arc of dark red energy sprung from the vault towards them.

"This ends tonight," Fleur agreed, catching the arc on her wand and deflecting it to the vault. With a hissing sizzle, another rune was deactivated. "These Death Eaters have an obsession with active countermeasures. Remember that dead man's hand curse on the Rookwood vault?"

Bill nervously eyed the minuscule scars still lingering around Fleur's neck. He would never be able to forget it, that horrible sight of when a skeletal hand had burst forth from the vault itself and begun to strangle Fleur. If he'd been even a second slower… he shook his head. He wouldn't dwell on it. He couldn't, or he'd go insane. People were going to die. But not Fleur. Not his family. Believing otherwise was unbearable.

"I remember," he whispered, resisting the urge to punch the vault door. Knowing Gringotts, it'd probably curse him for the attempt.

Fleur gave him a look that told him that as usual, she had intuited something was wrong. "Bill, it was nothing. Relax. I'm here, right? And you're here too."

"I know, it's just—"

"It's just that people get hurt and that's terrifying. I know." She gave him a quick peck on the cheek. "But no one is leaving this war without scars. I accept that." She moved her wand in a zigzag pattern, calling forth black smoke that drifted towards the vault and disappeared inside one of the three keyholes. Something inside went click. "It's time you accepted that too."

Bill swallowed. "And haven't I accepted that? Ron, Charlie, Dumbledore, … I can keep going for a while."

"You've accepted that they've died. Not that more people will still get hurt." She pressed her wand right next to a keyhole. A leaflike pattern formed around it, and with it came another rewarding click.

"I just—"

"Want to keep everyone safe, yes. I know. We can't do that. But we can come closer to ending this madness tonight. So focus." She waved her wand angrily at the vault. The last keyhole flared red, but nothing went click.

Bill tackled her to the ground just before a burst of flame was spewed forth from the keyhole, incinerating the air where Fleur had been mere seconds ago. Both lay there, breathing heavily until the fire stopped, then went click.

"Oh hi," Fleur said, smiling at him from below.

Bill couldn't help but grin back and shook his head. "When we get home."

"If you insist." The glimmer in her eyes almost made him reconsider. But instead, they both scrambled back up, dusting off their clothes. One could wish for a time where romance wasn't interrupted by necessity, but Bill was just grateful that he had found it at all in these times, even if the current horror had stopped him from proposing as he'd originally planned. After the war then. There would be a marriage. Celebration. Endless days and nights together. Kids maybe.

Fleur stared angrily at the last lock, the keyhole still radiating heat. "Mean little trick that one, a failsafe even if you handle the keys correctly. Paranoid bastards."

"Fucking Purebloods," Bill agreed. "But with what we're about to do, I can't fault them." He pressed his hand against the vault door and watched it swung open. As much as the Goblins liked to pretend only they could open the door, there was always a workaround. And he wouldn't be a cursebreaker worthy of the name if he couldn't find it.

The black onyx vault door slid open, disappearing into the larger frame. Beyond it lay wealth unimaginable. Piles and piles of galleons smiled at him—enough to buy at least a thousand Firebolts—and that was only half the vault.

The other half was even more decadent. Innumerable jewellery, all of it Goblin made, with even their containers made of pure gold. A massive chandelier hung in the centre of the room, each candle burning as brightly as only eternal fire could. Chalices and even an actual chariot. And also, hiding between a golden statue of a dog and a half-collapsed pile of galleons, a cup.

The Cup that Dumbledore had shown them in the memories of Hepzibah Smith.

"Got you," Bill whispered.

"Together?" Fleur asked, pointing her wand.

"Together."

Fiendfyre burst forth. The Horcrux screamed as it burned.

And somewhere in a house, another dial fell of a clock, landing right next to its twin.

Two more Horcruxes down

Ginny Weasley still standing

Now prepare To Conquer Death

A/N: And book 2 is a wrap! Thank you for all the encouraging and insightful reviews along the way, they always make my day brighter. Book 3 is written, though I might wait a few weeks before I begin posting, as I'd like to edit it a bit (unlike book 2, which was basically a first draft).