Order of Mercy

by MandyinKC

Summary:

Set during Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. While Harry, Ron, and Hermione are searching for Horcruxes, a small band of witches and wizards are helping Muggle-borns escape persecution by the Ministry of Magic. Follow Bill and Fleur and Percy and Audrey as they struggle with the realities of war, trauma, family, friendship, and romance in the darkest year of their lives.

Notes:

This story was originally posted on the Fan Fiction Site Who Shall Not Be Named, but a reader suggested I finally post it on AO3 and so here it is. A lot of work and love went into writing Order of Mercy and I hope that shines through. I want to thank my beta BurgundyHope for her tireless dedication in making OOM what it is. I'd also like to thank Keeptheotherone and PJHope for their advice and encouragement.

Going forward, I'll post twice a week on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

Chapter 1

Mudbloods Stole Magic!

The Ministry of Magic is undertaking a survey of so-called "Muggle-borns," the better to understand how they came to possess magical secrets. Recent research undertaken by the Department of Mysteries reveals that magic can only be passed from person to person when wizards reproduce. Where no proven wizarding ancestry exists, therefore, the so-called Muggle-born is likely to have obtained magical power by theft or force. The Ministry is determined to root out such usurpers of magical power, and to this end has issued an invitation to every so-called Muggle-born to present themselves for interview by the newly appointed Muggle-born Registration Commission.*

Bill Weasley wadded up his copy of The Daily Profit and tossed it into the bin with more force than strictly necessary. Two weeks had passed since the Ministry of Magic had fallen and a sense of unease was slowly permeating the wizarding community. Yet, Voldemort remained hidden in the background, leaving the majority of society without a concrete idea of why they felt nervous. But this?

There weren't words to describe the ridiculousness of this propaganda. It defied logic. How was a Muggle meant to steal magic from a wizard? Even if that were possible—and it wasn't, waving a wand about would get a Muggle blasted across the room—wouldn't it prove that Muggles were mightier than wizards, therefore disproving the supposed superiority of Magical blood?

Bill could go round and round with this line of thinking, but it wouldn't get him anywhere.

He raked one hand down his face, catching the half-healed wounds with his fingers. Pain had him gritting his teeth and cursing. At least he hadn't ripped any of the scars open. Since returning to work after the attack, his co-workers had been prone to giving him some strange looks, Bill didn't suppose that bleeding at his desk would be a welcome development. Besides, Fleur would have his bollocks.

Death Eaters in the Ministry was not the only thing that had changed in the last fortnight, or indeed the last several months. Much of it was for the worse, save for one shining exception: his wedding to Fleur Delacour, now Fleur Weasley. It was thoughts of Fleur—of a future free of tyranny to be shared with Fleur—that kept him from going mad.

"Mr. Weasley."

Bill glanced up to see Cynthia from reception standing in the doorway of his office he shared with a fellow Curse Breaker at Gringotts Wizarding Bank.

"There is a man to see you about a curse," she said.

"Send him in."

From the top drawer of his desk, Bill took out a stack of parchment and quill. He could hear the annoyance in his voice, which only annoyed him more. He didn't like that he had spoken to a colleague like that—he would have to apologize to Cynthia later. It didn't matter what the paper said, or how much pain he was in, there was no excuse for it. Bill was still taking himself to task when a middle-aged man walked stiffly into his office.

"Good afternoon," Bill muttered, still not looking up.

"Bill," the wizard said with familiarity. "Your leg heal up after that break when you were a boy?"

"That wasn't me," Bill replied, arranging the parchment on his desk and inking his quill. "That was—"

Head snapping up, he regarded the wizard in front of him more closely. It wasn't Bill who had broken his leg as a boy—it was Percy. He'd been five at the time. It was after lunch, Bill thought, and Percy had been begging to play with Bill and Charlie in the garden. Figuring that Percy would be too scared to fly on a full-sized broomstick, Charlie had told him to climb on. Only Percy had more guts than his older brothers gave him credit for. Percy got on the back of Charlie's broomstick, and the three of them had fun for about ten minutes before Percy off the back, his fall cushioned by Mum's pumpkin patch. She healed Percy, whilst giving Bill and Charlie the worst tongue lashing of their lives. The only people who knew that Percy broke his leg were family.

The man standing awkwardly in front of Bill's desk was paunchy with a balding pate and chapped lips. Everything about him was ill-at-ease, as if the skin didn't fit the man, but Bill knew those eyes. Not the shape or shade, he knew the soul behind them. Bill would recognize that serious, earnest expression anywhere.

Percy.

"What can I do for you?" Bill asked with forced lightness.

Polyjuiced Percy handed Bill a square of parchment and said stiffly, "I have inherited a treasure box from a distant relative, but it is cursed. I was told that you are the wizard to speak to on such matters."

Bill's heart was in his throat. For all the times that he had sought out Percy since his younger brother's estrangement from the family, Percy had never come to Bill, and certainly not with such extraordinary precautions. Whatever had propelled Percy to seek him out could only be of the highest importance.

Unfolding the parchment with unsteady fingers, Bill read the simple words:

"I have information that will be of the utmost importance to you. We must find a safe place to speak."

"Tell me more about this box," Bill said distractedly as he Vanished the words on the parchment with his wand.

Percy was going into a rather detailed description of the fictitious treasure box. Under normal circumstances, Bill would have found this amusing. Only Percy would have come up with such an elaborate lie for the occasion, but circumstances were far from normal.

Bill scrawled a note on the parchment and handed it back.

"I think you need to bring this object into the bank," Bill said, staring at his little brother steadily. "I'll need a better look at it."

Percy looked at the note and nodded. "I can arrange that."

oOo

"Watch where you're going!"

Percy dodged around a small, dark-haired girl, hardly seeing her. He walked quickly through the taproom of the Leaky Cauldron into the men's room. Approximately seventeen minutes, by his calculations, until the Polyjuice Potion wore off. He closed himself into one of the stalls and stared at his shaking hand, willing the freckles to reappear.

Every day for the past two weeks he'd walked into a viper's pit without blinking an eye, so why was visiting his brother so much harder? It was not as if Bill were the twins. Percy had hardly seen the twins since the day he walked out on his family. Bill, on the other hand, had not allowed Percy the luxury of licking his wounds out of sight. No, not Bill. He, of course, sought Percy out the first chance he got.

However, Percy had never sought out Bill or any other member of his family in two years' time. He didn't even make eye contact with his father when they passed in the corridors at the Ministry, not even if they had the misfortune of being stuck on the lift together. Percy was too afraid of what he would see in his father's eyes: shame, hate, sadness. Or worse yet, what Dad would see in Percy's eyes. That is why Percy routinely took the stairs throughout the Ministry.

He watched as his hand lengthened and grew paler, coppery spots appearing on it. Ideally, Percy would prefer to craft a carefully thought out plan that would lead him back to the bosom of his family, but his fate was not in his hands. After everything he'd done, said, allowed to happen…He could only try to make himself worthy and hope that they would accept him back.

Maybe today was the first step.

oOo

The small, dark-haired girl that Percy Weasley bumped into was actually the recently sacked Audrey Sprayberry. She had just come from her office, where her boss gave her the bad news. Now, she rushed out of the Leaky Cauldron into the alley with tears burning at the back of her eyes. They were stupid tears, for a stupid job that never paid much anyway. Tapping the bricks in the wall absently, Audrey passed into Diagon Alley and stumbled to a halt.

She sniffed inelegantly, wiping her eyes with her fingers. Diagon Alley was no place to be distracted. Most of the shops were shuttered, their owners having been run off or scared off, like the Squib Placement Agency where she'd worked since graduating from Hogwarts two years ago. Well, one good thing would come of her lack of employment: she would have to give up her Diagon Alley flat. That would please Mother immensely. She never liked the room Audrey rented above a takeaway shop anyway, she thought it unseemly. However, even Mother couldn't ignore the dangers of Diagon Alley these days. Audrey wondered if one of her brothers would take pity and let her move in. The last thing she wanted to do was move back to Sprayberry House.

"Audrey!"

At the sound of her name, she looked up to see a familiar blonde skipping down the steps of Gringotts. The sour thoughts plaguing Audrey lifted for a moment. Two weeks had passed since she'd last seen her friend, at her wedding actually—the one that Audrey was lucky to escape from with her life. Freshly returned to work and wearing a blue frock, Fleur Weasley nee Delacour was stunning as usual. She was also a welcome sight on an otherwise dreadful day.

"I zought we were meeting for lunch at zee Leaky Cauldron," Fleur said, taking Audrey by the shoulders and kissing each of her cheeks.

"Oh!" Audrey closed her eyes for a moment.

"Did you forget?" Fleur accused.

"No…It might have slipped my mind. I just got sacked."

"'Sacked?' I do not understand zis term?"

"The Agency shut down," Audrey elaborated.

"Why?"

Audrey looked around. It seemed imprudent to stand in the middle of Diagon Alley, let alone try to have a conversation. She tugged on Fleur's sleeve. "Let's go to my place and I'll tell you all about it."

They picked up containers of Lo Mein from the shop below then climbed the wooden stairs to Audrey's flat. Of course, calling it a "flat" was glamorizing it a bit. Audrey lived in a bed-sit. She'd charmed the walls pink and hung filmy curtains, but that didn't change the fact that her bed was pushed into the corner and still took up too much room. There was a chair in the other corner, next to a stack of books. Clothes were bursting from a cupboard. She'd asked the landlord to place an expansion charm on the place, but he'd demanded extra money. The small wood stove that both heated the place and toasted her cheese was the only upgrade Audrey paid for. She was going to miss her flat.

Pushing aside a pile of clothes, Fleur sat primly on the edge of the bed. Audrey would like to claim that she was not normally this messy, it was simply that she did not have enough space for everything that she owned. Besides, the occasional visitor was either Fleur or some bloke who could care less what her flat looked like. However, Audrey was keenly aware that she'd grown up with a house-elf who tidied up after her, and that maybe she was a disaster when left to her own devices.

"What happened to zee Agency?" Fleur asked, twirling her noodles around her chopsticks.

"The Ministry cut our funding."

Fleur scowled at the mention of the Ministry, but said simply, "I zought zat your funding came from a wealthy Squib?"

"It did, but he's running scared, and so is our director." Audrey dug in a drawer for a fork. "Anything to do with Muggles seems dangerously subversive these days."

The Squib Placement Agency was supposed to be a temporary job, a stepping-stone to a bigger, better non-profit organization. It was a difficult industry to break into—most of the witches who headed the non-profits were from elite or well-to-do families. Just to get her lowly position, Audrey had to cajole her mother into using her connections—in return Audrey had to agree to a blind date with a "suitable young man" of her mother's choosing. Still, Audrey rather liked her job. She took it seriously, learning all she could about the Muggle world.

"What will you do now?" Fleur asked.

It was a good question, and one that she did not have an answer for.

Audrey shrugged, and changed the subject. "How's married life?"

For a moment, Fleur's eyes were trained on her noodles as she wound them around and around, then a soft smile graced her face. "Bill is wonderful," she said quietly.

"Ugh." Audrey pulled a face. "Isn't that wretchedly sentimental?"

Fleur burst out laughing. "He is wonderful! He also cannot find zee laundry basket, but I have decided to forgive him."

"For now?"

Fleur nodded, then picked up a pair of Audrey's knickers. "He is not zee only one wiz zis unfortunate flaw."

"Oi! Those are clean." Audrey snagged her knickers and stuffed them in the drawer her fork came from. "I have a system, don't I? If it's on the bed, it's clean. If it's on the floor, it's probably been tossed there for good reason."

The girls giggled.

oOo

There were too many people sitting around the Burrow's kitchen table, as usual. Fleur was crammed between Bill and one of the twins who had his elbows on the table. The only thing anybody could talk about was the new Muggle-born Registration Committee. Except for Fleur-she stayed quiet and watched. This was her first official meeting as a member of the Order of the Phoenix. Before, when she took part in the Battle of the Seven Potters, Fleur was merely a volunteer—old Mad-Eye Moody had called her cannon fodder. She had not understood the term, but Bill assured her that it was a Muggle reference and most British wizards would not have understood it either.

Her father-in-law sat at the head of the table. It was still novel to think of Arthur as her father-in-law, and Fleur quite liked repeating it in her head. However, her father-in-law was not the leader of the Order, despite his place at the table. The other members all demurred to Kingsley Shacklebolt. He was a quiet, watchful presence at Arthur's right. It seemed that Arthur was second lieutenant, an odd fit for such a humble man. Fleur supposed that it was his paternal air that made people listen to him. He had a way of acting very sure and very reassuring that made people want to depend on him.

At the other end of the table, Tonks sat near Molly's usual spot. She was watching Molly bustling around the kitchen like a mouse would watch a cat. It was no wonder what had Tonks so wary of Molly. Remus Lupin was rather conspicuously missing from the meeting. Fleur was just sure that her mother-in-law had much to say on that topic.

When the meal was consumed, Molly cleared away the dishes, but all the witches and wizards remained in their chairs as the meeting commenced. It was strange to see this council of war being conducted at the table Fleur had seen her in-laws gather around for Christmas and birthdays. And unsettling, as if this small thing was what was wrong with all the world. Arthur remained at the head, but Shacklebolt stood and waited for the room to fall silent.

"We've much to discuss tonight," Shacklebolt said. "We've all read the Daily Prophet, and have their account of this new Muggle-born Registration Commission. Arthur, what do you know about it?"

"Just that an entire propaganda machine has been built at the Ministry. They are distributing all sorts of foul lies about Muggles and Muggleborns," Arthur reported. "Oh, and the Commission is being headed by Dolores Umbridge, whom some of you are already aware of."

Molly scowled. "A more odious woman…if I ever get my hands on her."

"Yaxley has been bringing in some unsavory characters," Kingsley added matter-of-factly, referring to the Death Eater now in charge of the Auror Department. "They are charged with enforcing the 'invitation' the Ministry has extended to the Muggle-borns."

Tonks made a strangled noise. "My dad has already gone into hiding," she announced, then snorted. "More like gone on the run."

"How's Andromeda holding up, dear?" Molly asked, reaching over to pat the younger woman's hands.

"You know Mum," Tonks replied, leaning her chin into her hand and looking exhausted. "Steel backbone and stiff upper lip. She has taken many precautions to protect Gran Tonks and my dad's sisters though."

Fleur looked away, a spike of jealousy in her abdomen. She did not like feeling such a small and petty emotion, but she wished that Molly would extend more of that maternal concern in her direction. It was true that Fleur's relationship with her mother-in-law had improved since Bill was mauled, but Fleur still found herself longing for the same affection and protectiveness Molly extended to Tonks and Harry, even to Hermione. Well, perhaps not the protectiveness.

Under the table, Bill took her hand and Fleur looked at him with gratitude and wonder. All through her years at Beauxbatons, Fleur thought she had done a good job of masking her emotions, but that was before she met Bill. He read her doubts and hurts so easily, even if he did not always understand them.

The meeting went on for quite some time. Arthur suggested that the Order place protective wards on Muggle homes and businesses, as many as they could. Fleur felt that this seemed like trying to catch the wind in a jar, but had no better suggestion. To do nothing at all was to lose hope. Shacklebolt must have agreed for he charged Arthur with organizing the effort.

The sun was dipping low in the summer sky before all the information was finally dissected and analyzed to everyone's satisfaction. Molly wrangled the twins into helping clean the kitchen as the other members of the Order spread out through the house and garden. Fleur left Bill speaking with Professor McGonagall and slipped out the backdoor. Darkness had not yet taken hold, only a few fireflies blinked amongst the flowers and weeds. Standing at the far end of the garden was Tonks. She leaned on the gate, staring into the black orchard in the distance.

"Do you mind if I join you?" Fleur asked. The two women had always been amiable, but Fleur would not say that they were friends.

Tonks looked at her and nodded. "There's enough gate for both of us to hold up."

"I am sorry about your papa," Fleur said without pretext.

Tonks gripped the gate tighter. "Dad refused to register with the Commission—can't say I blame him. They'll use their bloody lists to murder good wizards. He figured Mum and me would be safer if he wasn't around."

"I wish I would have known," Fleur said, although she felt stupid saying the words. How could she have known that Ted Tonks would be forced to leave his family? "He could have gone to my family in France until zis is all over wiz. At least zen you would know he was safe."

In the growing darkness, Tonks stared hard at Fleur. She did not fidget, she did not do such things, but Fleur could not control the shallow breaths and racing heart. The older, pink-haired witch was one of the few women that Fleur had ever felt comfortable around and she did not want that to change.

"Thank you, Fleur," Tonks said quietly, but there was a lot of emotion behind the words.

Fleur chanced a glance at the other woman and added quietly, "If you are able to contact him, tell him to come to Shell Cottage. I will take him to safety."

"I don't know where he is."

"Is Remus wiz him?" Fleur asked. "Is zat why he is not here tonight? Because he is on zee run?"

Tonks snorted. "No. Well, yes, but he isn't with Dad."

"What do you mean?"

"Remus left me."

"Pardonne-moi?" Fleur gasped in disbelief. "But you are—"

"Pregnant? Yeah."

"But why?"

Fleur could not imagine a circumstance that would cause Bill to leave her, especially if she were pregnant with their child. And Remus, he was so noble and good. He had been a blessing to her and Bill after the attack. She could not understand his actions.

"Some rubbish about werewolves not breeding," Tonks spat out bitterly. "He thinks the baby will be a werewolf or, at the very least, tainted in some way."

"Bah, men are stupide," Fleur sneered, and Tonks snorted with laughter for a moment. "Everybody knows zat Lycanthropy is transmitt ed through the bite of a transformed werewolf. Your little baby will be no werewolf."

Tonks said nothing to this and the two young women lapsed into silence. The summer darkness had settled in around the Burrow finally. They could hear the calls of owls in the orchard beyond, the music of the crickets in the garden. A cool breeze provided relief from the lingering heat.

"You zink he is out zere, do you not?" Fleur asked after a while.

"Hm?" Tonks responded with forced distraction.

"Remus. You zink he is watching from zee orchard, oui?"

"I know he is," Tonks responded. "He's waiting for me to leave, then he will come around to hear the news and get a bit of Molly's cooking."

"Does Molly know?"

"Yes."

"Maybe she will hit him wiz her frying pan," Fleur said, eyes narrowing as if she could see anything in the night.

Tonks laughed outright at that. "Perhaps it would knock some sense into him!"

"Oui. And if it does not, he will have a great headache."

A lit wand and soft footsteps announced Bill's arrival. "What are you ladies laughing about?"

"Hmph, you know there is only one lady here," Tonks retorted, cocking her hip and propping one hand on it. "And we were just discussing how you had better do right by this one or you'll be on the receiving end of one bloodthirsty Veela."

"Yeah?" Bill responded with a laugh, looking at Fleur. "Should I be worried?"

"Not if you toe the line," Tonks responded.

"Do not listen to her, mon Bill," Fleur said, tucking herself into his side.

"We should be going," Bill said, wrapping his arm around her waist. "I have that meeting tomorrow."

He was referring to his brother, Percy. They were to have him for dinner at Shell Cottage the next day. Bill would not admit it, but he had high hopes for this dinner, and for Percy. To that end, Fleur would do everything in her power to make tomorrow perfect, but she had her own secret. She desperately wanted to make a good impression on this brother. Charlie liked her well enough, but it would be nice to have more allies in the family. Even if this one was estranged.

"Thank you," Tonks said sincerely. "For everything."

Impulsively, Fleur reached out and hugged the shorter woman.

"Bonsoir, Tonks. I know everyzing will…I do not know zee expression. Be good? In zee end."

Chapter 2

 

 

 

Percy pulled the collar of his cloak more securely around his chin, watching for his brother. Bill had designated The Swan in Tinworth at eleven o'clock as their meeting place. So, here he was, sitting at a corner table, hoping not to draw attention to himself.

Tinworth appeared to be a quaint English hamlet by the sea, but it was in actuality one of those few towns where Muggles and Wizards lived elbow to elbow, like Ottery St. Catchpole. Not that the Muggles had any idea that their neighbors were magical, of course, they just accepted that their town was a bit eccentric.

The tinkle of bells above the door alerted Percy to the entrance. He watched Bill enter the pub, his head tucked down and his long hair free to cover his face. This was only the fourth time Percy had seen Bill's scars up close. The first time had been shortly after the attack, in the hospital wing at Hogwarts.

Details of the Battle of the Astronomy Tower, as it was called, had reached the Ministry lightning fast. Dumbledore dead, Snape accused of his murder, Death Eaters infiltrated Hogwarts. Bill's injuries were reported almost as an afterthought, but Percy had felt as if he'd been punched in the gut.

They had always seemed invincible to him—Bill and Charlie, his elder brothers. Maybe at twenty-one-years old Percy should have known better. He had just come from the funeral of the older brothers of his best mate, Oliver Wood, after all. Two men, the same ages as Percy's own brothers, members of the Order of the Phoenix, he had known them most of his life. Yet, Bill's maiming still came as a shock to Percy.

Scrimgeour had not wasted any time in going to Hogwarts in the wake of the battle and, of course, Percy as Junior Assistant went along, as well. Not that he had been worth much to the Minister while there. Percy could only think of one other time when he had felt like that, like he had been turned inside out, and that was when Ginny had been taken to the Chamber of Secrets in sixth year.

His distraction had been obvious to the Minister. Unlike his predecessor, Scrimgeour was keenly observant and even kind, after a fashion. He had released Percy from his duties to check on his brother. Percy had lurked outside the Hospital Wing all that day, Disillusioned so that no one would see him.

He had watched as his parents trudged in and out, sometimes together, sometimes separately. It came as no surprise that Mum had been a wreck, but Dad was rather haggard himself. It had struck Percy then, how much his parents had aged in his absence, how much of a toll the war had taken on them.

He'd seen his brothers and sister as well. Ginny looked so grown up, but also tense. Ron and Hermione had been nearly inseparable, they were together every time Percy had seen them. That hadn't come as a surprise either.

Then Fred and George showed up, looking successful in their matching dragon hide coats as they walked into the Hospital Wing. They were successful, weren't they? Wildly so. One could not help but hear about their shop, see it conspicuously standing out against the drab and worn shops on Diagon Alley. They had walked into the room with their usual smiles in place, but they had left looking somber.

Finally, late in the day—night really—the parade of Weasleys had ceased. Percy ended the Disillusionment spell and crept into the Hospital Wing. Moonlight came through the tall windows and a fire glowed in the large hearth, but it was otherwise dark. He had found Bill's cot readily. The eldest Weasley brother had been asleep, or maybe even dosed with a Dreamless Sleep Draught, with the blankets pulled up to his chin and lovingly tucked in around him. Bill's face had been covered in bandages that were starkly white in the dark room. Even so, Percy could see red, raw lines here and there and the corner of Bill's mouth was being held together by Muggle stitches.

Fast asleep in the cot beside Bill's was the girl, Fleur Delacour, from the Tri Wizard Tournament. Percy had known they were engaged, yet it had been strange to see this other woman in the place that would have been Mum's otherwise. It had occurred to Percy that for all the times he had seen his family members come and go throughout the day, he had never seen Fleur until now. He surmised that she had never left his brother's side and even now, she was sleeping within arm's reach. That had seemed comforting somehow.

Percy had sat quietly at Bill's bedside for a while, watching the reassuring rise and fall of his big brother's chest. It had been there that Percy realized that it was time to go home. Oliver had been encouraging him to for some time, he'd out right berated Percy for his stubbornness in the run up to the Wood brothers' funeral. But Percy knew that he couldn't just go home. He had too much to make up for.

Through the warm glow of pub lamps, the man walking to the table now looked healthy—even if he did look like he'd been in a Care of Magical Creatures class gone horribly wrong. Bill slid into the chair opposite Percy's, a smile tugging at his mouth. Something like grief welled up in the pit of Percy's stomach and he knew it could be read on his face. He wasn't used to that, Bill's smile. It was so different from what it had been.

Bill's expression changed, his eyes carefully shuttered. "Hey, Perce, I know it takes some getting used to."

"No," Percy denied, avoiding his brother's eyes and feeling ashamed of himself.

It wasn't the physical fact of Bill's scars, it was that Percy wasn't there when it happened.

"It's okay to stare if you want," Bill said. "In fact, it would be better if you got it out of the way before you met Fleur, unless you want to be on the receiving end of her Veela temper."

Percy looked Bill in the face, pushing his glasses up. "I have met Fleur, actually. During the Tri Wizard Tournament."

Bill grinned again, a spark of brotherly camaraderie in his eyes. "Of course, I had forgotten. You and Charlie both met her before I did. I guess it's lucky for me that she has good taste, then."

Just like that, Percy felt himself relax. "I-I visited you in the Hospital Wing," he admitted.

"Yeah?" Bill asked, one brow quirking.

"I waited until everybody was gone and you were asleep. Actually, Fleur was there too, asleep in the cot next to yours."

"You didn't have to wait until the family was gone, Perce."

Percy ignored this and said, "What I really want to know is how Dad convinced Mum to let you have Muggle stitches?"

Bill touched his mouth absently, a wry look to his eyes. "The bastard nearly ripped my lip off. Madam Pomfrey couldn't fix it with magic, they even brought Healers from St. Mungo's in and they couldn't fix it either. Cursed wounds."

"That's a bit of irony, there," Percy said without a trace of humor.

But Bill laughed anyway. "The Curse Breaker with the cursed wounds? No one else seems to find the hilarity in it."

"I said it was ironic, not funny."

"I wasn't expecting Perfect Prefect Percy to think it funny, was I?"

Percy rolled his eyes. Bill was long gone from Hogwarts by the time he was a prefect. Honestly, Percy really did not feel that Bill should be able to throw the "Perfect Prefect Percy" thing at him.

"I wasn't the first Head Boy in the family," Percy reminded Bill.

"True, but I was cool."

Percy lifted one eyebrow. "Shall I write Charlie, then? Find out what he thinks of your time as Head Boy?"

"Charlie should have been smarter than to let the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team urinate on the Slytherin's brooms, girls included. Of course they were going to get caught," Bill said hotly, this was still a point of contention between the brothers. "What was I supposed to do?"

"Don't ask me," Percy said innocently. "I think it was just implied that I was not cool. How should I know?"

Bill was chuckling again. "Sure, take the piss. Let's get out of here and you can meet my wife."

"So long as we set the record straight."

"Oh, what record is that?"

"No matter what you had to put up with from Charlie—"

"Fergus Wood, too," Bill put in. "Those two could get up to a lot of trouble together."

"Fine, Fergus too," Percy conceded. "Regardless, you never had it as bad as I did with the twins."

Bill laughed. "Alright, agreed, I had it easier."

"Cheers."

The two brothers got up from the table, Percy throwing down some money for his pint. He was reminded, rather pleasantly, that some things had not changed. Maybe Bill's smile was not what it had been, but he still laughed in the same easy way. There was comfort in that, but Percy still felt anxious.

Nothing was the same as the day he walked out, Percy knew that, but the family was the same at heart. Bill was still the big brother everybody looked to, Mum still fussed over her children, the twins were still causing trouble of some sort. Yet the family had gone to war without him, Percy. Bill and George had both been maimed. Ginny, Ron, and Fred had all been in battles. And Percy was the Ministry loving prat.

Was there room for him still?

Bill clapped him on the shoulder and led him into a shadowy alley. With a quick look around, they Disapparated only to reappear on a beach. Bill trudged towards the cliffs with a "come on," and Percy followed. Soon, a cottage came into view and Percy knew without a doubt that this was Bill's home—there was a certain rightness about it.

Standing on the small back porch, her tan skirt blowing in the breeze, was Fleur Delacour—or the new Mrs. Weasley. Though Percy had met her on several occasions during the Tri Wizard Tournament, he was struck with the feeling of meeting her for the first time. The girl he had met three years ago in her blue-gray satin had seemed cold and brittle, this young woman in her earth tones was warm and calm. The smile she gave Percy, while disarming in its radiance, was almost shy.

The two brothers followed Fleur into the kitchen on a wave of accented chatter. A small feast was laid out on the lace draped kitchen table. Chicken salad, croissants, a fruit medley, asparagus in some rich looking sauce, finger sandwiches, all of it presented in pretty, floral dishes. It was so different from home, more elegant, more refined. Yet there was a familiarity to it. Maybe it was the heaps of food, as if Fleur were serving an army, or the loving care that obviously went into the meal?

Fleur motioned for Percy to sit. "Everything smells delicious," he said.

"You've outdone yourself," Bill agreed. He was standing behind Fleur, his eyes flickering briefly over the table setting. Then he touched her. Just his hand placed on her ribcage, but Fleur went a rather pretty shade of pink, her own hand perching on her collarbone like a bird.

"Merci," she murmured.

Something so hot and intimate had passed between the newlywed couple that Percy felt at once jealous and embarrassed to have witnessed it. He thought of Penelope, his only serious girlfriend. Normally his ruminations of her tended to be brooding, thinking of the rather abrupt end of their relationship. But now, for the first time in three years, he was thinking of their happier times. Percy wondered if he ever looked at Penny the way Bill was looking at Fleur now. Probably not.

He knew for certain that repressed and proper Penelope never showed the kind of emotion that was on Fleur's face as she took her seat at the table. Meanwhile, Bill pulled his hair back in a leather strap, looking perfectly normal, but as he passed Fleur, Bill's fingertips grazed her upper arm. She shivered. Percy looked away.

They all acted as if nothing happened as they ate the meal. After lunch, Bill and Percy cleared away the dishes, it felt like they were boys again. But over tea, talk grew more serious and there was no denying that they were adults living in dark times.

Percy extracted a pile of parchment from his pocket and reversed the Shrinking spell. "You have no doubt read about the Muggle-born Registration Commission," Percy said in a businesslike manner. "Have you heard of Dolores Umbridge?"

"Yes," Bill replied coldly. "Did you know about the blood quills?"

"No," Percy said, shocked, "of course not."

"Did Fudge?" Bill pressed, speaking of the Minister of Magic who preceded Scrimgeour and was Percy's former boss.

Percy hesitated, thinking of that time with Fudge, then answered honestly, "I don't know. Once I proved useless as a source of information, Fudge kept me on the outside circle. But…"

"What? Go on."

"Knowing Fudge, my guess would be that he was forcefully ignorant of the situation."

Bill nodded, seemingly satisfied. "That makes sense."

Percy cleared his throat. "Back to current events, then? I am sure that you can surmise that the so-called invitation to Muggle-borns will be compulsory. And they are bringing in Dementors."

Fleur gasped at this news.

"What?" Bill demanded, his eyes hard. "Why?"

"They are fearful people," Percy said, offering the conclusion he had come to after learning this information. "I suspect that they fear rebellion and want to keep everybody depressed and hopeless."

"That is not a good place for you to be, Percy," Bill said pointedly.

A flicker of a smile came to Percy's face. "I appreciate your concern, but I can't be any place else, can I?"

Bill crossed his arms, looking uncharacteristically petulant, but he didn't argue.

Percy shuffled through his papers, pushing his glasses up his nose. "However, I think that is just a secondary benefit of the Dementors. Look here…"

He passed the parchment to Bill. Fleur sat forward so that she could read over Bill's arm.

"They are reinforcing the guards at Azkaban and making plans to expand it," Percy surmised. "I think they plan to imprison the Muggle-borns."

There was silence all around the room as this information sunk in.

"That will be just the beginning," Bill said quietly after some time.

"I quite agree," Percy replied. "But there's more. You will undoubtedly see it in the Daily Prophet in the next few days, but Snape is to be installed as the new Headmaster at Hogwarts."

Bill stared steadily at Percy.

"Attendance will be compulsory." Percy pulled out another sheet of parchment. "And Blood Status will have to be proven."

"And if it cannot be?" Fleur asked.

"I couldn't find any definitive information on that," Percy admitted.

"Which is frightening in itself," Bill commented.

Percy nodded, pushing his glasses up needlessly. "There are many vagaries, and I fear what they are not willing to put in writing."

"But surely," Fleur said tremulously, her hands were shaking, "zey do not intend to drag eleven-year-olds off to Azkaban."

Bill covered her hands. "Shh, love."

He turned to Percy then and asked, "How did you get this information, Perce?"

"I am not in Thicknesse's inner circle, he is surrounded by Death Eaters and toady sympathizers," Percy said matter-of-factly, "but I still work in his office and I still have high clearance. Plus, I do a very good Disillusionment charm. All of these are duplicates of files found in Umbridge's office and some of it comes straight from Thicknesse's desk."

"Percy," Bill admonished, his voice was full of recrimination, but his eyes shone with admiration. "This is incredibly dangerous, what you are doing. They will kill you."

Percy laced his fingers together and looked at Bill steadily. "I know that, but I was a Gryffindor the same as you."

Bill sighed. "I do appreciate this and so will the Order, I'm just afraid for you."

"One more thing. This is just conjecture." Percy looked at Fleur. "Umbridge is a very bigoted woman. She hates all magical creatures and holds them in disdain. Once she is done with the Muggle-borns, I expect her to turn her powers on others of mixed blood."

"Like Hagrid?" Bill asked.

Percy was floundering for words. He hadn't expected Bill to miss the implications of what he had just said. He looked to Fleur, she was sitting with a very straight back, her chin angled defiantly. It was obvious that Fleur understood, and Percy was sorry if he had hurt her in anyway.

"Like me, chéri," she said quietly, placing a hand on Bill's fist.

"You're a witch," Bill insisted, looking Fleur directly in the face.

"I am a quarter Veela, I am a creature."

"Bollocks to that."

"It is true," she insisted. "My grand-mére et grand-pére had to leave Belgium to marry because she was listed as an animal by law. He could take her as a mistress, but a marriage between zem was illegal."

"It's not like you're a bowtruckle," Bill replied, he smoothed one strand of hair from her forehead with his finger.

"Non, I am not a bowtruckle, but I am not perfectly human either."

Percy cleared his throat, "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean…"

Fleur looked at him with clear, blue eyes. "Zere is nozing to be sorry for. I know what I am and I know zat I am lucky to have a wand. It is zee benefit of being beautiful, people forget zat I am really a bird."

"Are you, then?" Percy asked, fascinated despite himself.

Fleur laughed, low and throaty, her face lighting up. "Non, I am mostly witch."

"But she has a ghastly temper," Bill teased, tickling her ribs.

Fleur squirmed, shooting him a mock glare. "And you had better stop zat or I will turn my temper on you, monsieur!"

There was laughter and teasing over tea and some old biscuits that Fleur found in a cupboard. Percy couldn't remember the last time he had smiled so much, let alone laughed like this. He wondered how this laughter could even exist, in the middle of a war, after such a depressing discussion, but it did and he felt buoyed by it in no small measure.

Twilight was settling in when Bill and Fleur walked Percy to the Disapparation point. The married couple were barefoot on the beach, walking hand in hand. The waves could be heard crashing on the beach in the distance and everything was cast in comforting, sleepy shadow. It occurred to Percy that he felt at peace in that moment.

"This is a wonderful place you have," he told his brother, looking back at the house.

Bill offered his hand and the two men shook. "Come around again, Percy, you don't need an excuse."

Fleur stepped forward and hugged him. "You are always welcome in our home."

oOo

Later that night, Fleur lie snuggled into Bill's chest. He was sleeping and she was glad. The full moon would be here soon, he would need his strength. Yet, sleep eluded her. She could not stop thinking of all that Percy had told them about the Muggle-borns. She thought of Ted Tonks, alone and afraid, wandering England hoping to avoid capture. She thought of Andromeda Tonks, also alone and afraid, wondering where her husband was.

Fleur could not stop thinking about how she could have helped the Tonkses if she had known.

Beneath her, Bill stirred. His head thrashed on the pillow and his muscles tensed. Fleur sat up slightly to look at him. In the silvery moonlight, she could see the pinched look on his face, though he was still asleep, gripped in the nightmare. The nightmares came and went, but they grew stronger as the full moon neared.

"Shit…" Bill muttered.

"Shh, shh," Fleur hushed, tracing the scars across his face. "It is just a bad dream, mon Bill."

"Merlin…Dougal…no…"

So. It was this nightmare. Fleur was not surprised. In April, Bill witnessed his dearest friends killed battling Death Eaters. It had shaken him, even more than the attack by Greyback. He felt such guilt at having recruited them to the Order.

Fleur hummed French lullabies and stroked his hair. Finally, Bill quieted, a sheen of sweat on his body. Still, sleep would not come for Fleur as she stared at the ceiling. He'd hated it when she volunteered to help bring Harry from his aunt and uncle's home. Bill had not said it aloud, but she could see the ghosts of Dougal and Fergus Wood in his eyes when he looked at her.

After their wedding, in this very room, Fleur had asked to join the Order of the Phoenix in full. It had been their first fight as man and wife.

"The wedding was only the beginning, Fleur," Bill said, he sat on the bed with his hands fisted on his thighs. "Things are only going to get more dangerous from here."

"Do you zink I do not know?" Fleur demanded. "I watched our beautiful wedding burn!"

Bill gritted his teeth.

"What are you not saying?"

"I don't want you in the Order," he said slowly, hiding his eyes from her. "Maybe you should return home."

"I am home. Zis is my home." Fleur took a step closer to him, trying to see the emotion in his eyes.

Bill sighed, looking tired and exasperated. "You know what I mean."

"I am not a fragile flower. I can fight."

"I know." He looked up, but still did not look at her. "But I don't want you to."

"Zen come wiz me," Fleur demanded, "to France. Be safe wiz me."

Bill glared at her then. They both knew that was not an option. His eyes narrowed, he was accusing her of the great crime of not fighting fair, but Fleur did not care. She knew where she belonged, it was wherever Bill was. War be damned.

"You know," she said then, "that I do not fight only for you. Cedric was my friend. He was one of zee few people to ever be kind to me and not expect anyzing from it. Harry, he is my friend too…And zat Death Eater who pretended to be Mad-Eye, he attacked me and manipulated me. I have reasons."

"I know," Bill relented, his jaw clenched.

"And I am a Weasley now, am I not?"

He straightened. "Of course you are," he said defiantly.

"Zen I am brave," she said, invading his space. "I fight for my family and my husband, oui?"

And then Bill had kissed her long and hard. Fleur could feel his anger and frustration, but also his love for her. He knew her vulnerabilities and her flaws, but it was her strength that fired his blood. She knew that.

As Fleur watched Bill sleep beside her in their bed, it was her strengths that she was contemplating. Fleur had little control over her Veela magic, which was paltry in comparison to her mother's, but she was a brilliant and powerful witch. She had believed in her abilities when she could not believe in anything else about herself. Until the second task of the Tri Wizard Tournament.

She had panicked when attacked by the grindylows, she had failed Gabrielle. It was her greatest shame and it shook her to her core. Then the events of the third task left her trembling and vulnerable with few who she could turn to. Madame Maxime was not the nurturing type, and Fleur had few friends amongst the Beauxbatons students. In fact, she had no friends.

Audrey, at the time a Ravenclaw seventh year, had been the first to befriend her. She was a pretty girl, but not beautiful. Yet, she showed no jealousy of Fleur, something she had never experienced with another female. Audrey became her first friend.

Soon, Audrey was followed by Viktor and Cedric, her fellow Champions. Viktor was immune to Veela, there was a colony near his home in Bulgaria, so Fleur's trivial charms were nothing to him. Besides, not only was he interested in a different witch, he was as accustomed as Fleur to the unwanted attention of the opposite sex.

Cedric, on the other hand, seemed somewhat awestruck by her. Then one day, when Fleur caught him staring at her, he had blushed and looked away.

"Sorry about that," he said. "You must get that a lot and it can't be very comfortable, can it?"

Fleur had never met somebody willing to empathize with her before, so she let her guard down and was rewarded with a sweet friendship.

In the wake of Cedric's death, Fleur had turned to Audrey and sometimes Viktor. But Viktor was as shaken as she was, and very angry. It was harder to find comfort from him.

The Tournament had taken the heart out of Fleur. She second-guessed her abilities, her instincts. Even after finding out about the Order of the Phoenix, Fleur had not pressed to join for fear that she would panic again. But she had handled herself well during the Battle of the Seven Potters, and again at the wedding. It was with a reawakening confidence that she asked to join the Order. And it was with a heavy heart that Bill had cleared the path for her.

Now, Fleur wondered if the Order of the Phoenix was the place she belonged in the fight against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Maybe there was something else she should be doing.

Notes:

Thanks to everyone who left kudos. I'll see you again on Tuesday with the next chapter.

Chapter 3

A late summer's shower accompanied the full moon the next night, cloaked in a swirling cool breeze off the sea. Clouds rolled through the sky, masking the stars, and obscuring the moon, but she was there. Large, silvery, impersonal. As the late hours eased towards dawn, the beach was silent but for the ceaseless crashing of the waves and the occasional gasp of pain from Bill as he stood under the rain, soaked to the bone.

This was the third full moon since the attack, and he could not see that the pattern had changed any. His craving for raw meat intensified during the day, and his mood grew surly and unpredictable as the night came nearer. Bill and Fleur had discovered during the second full moon that the Wolf's Bane Potion cured these side effects. The pain, however, was excruciating and there was no relief from that.

It came, like clockwork, as the moon showed itself. It was bone deep and searing, as if his body were trying to tear itself apart. After that initial hour, when he couldn't bear to be touched, it eased. No pain potions seemed to work and as they discovered tonight, the pain was great enough to overcome a Dreamless Sleep Potion. He had been on the verge of begging Fleur to Stun him, when finally it began to ease. When Bill could stand to be touched again, Fleur would make him lie across the floor in the lounge and she massaged him until he could almost drowse. The rest of the night was passed in agony.

The cool, soft rain felt like relief against his skin, almost as good as Fleur's massage. Another hour, maybe the pain would diminish enough that he could finally sleep. He didn't want to think of the winter nights to come when the moon would hang in the sky for hours more.

Bill turned when he felt a warm hand slide into his. Fleur stood beside him barefoot in her nightdress, a shawl wrapped around her shoulders and an umbrella clutched in her hand.

"You should go up to bed," he said hoarsely, but he was glad for her presence all the same. "No use in both of us being exhausted tomorrow, especially when we have this to do all over again tomorrow night."

"I could not sleep," she replied.

"I'm not sure I'm up to a midnight shag," he said with an attempt at a smile, she would roll her eyes at him, he knew she would.

"It is well past midnight," was all she said.

They lapsed into silence for a long while. Bill clutched her hand more tightly. Everything seemed more bearable when Fleur was near.

"I have been zinking about what Percy said," Fleur said after some time. "It is why I cannot sleep."

"Let's go inside," Bill said tiredly. "I think I could lie down now."

Fleur helped Bill up the stairs to their bedroom. It was embarrassing how much he had to lean on her, as if he were an old man. Once inside their cozy room, she helped him out of his wet clothes. When she had him stripped, Fleur made Bill sit in the cushy little chair she called a boudoir chair. Gently, she began to towel his hair.

Bill's eyes drifted shut out of exhaustion and the bliss of having his scalp rubbed. Some of the tension in his muscles began to flow away. He felt the towel move to his shoulders and opened his eyes to watch sleepily as Fleur drew the towel across his chest. She was kneeling between his knees, gingerly patting his left arm. Her white nightdress was damp from contact with his wet body, and he could just make out her nipples straining against the sheer material.

For the first time in hours, Bill felt something other than pain stir inside of him. He reached out and brushed a strand of hair from Fleur's face.

"Fleur," he rasped, "love, I want to feel good."

Setting the towel aside, she leaned in and pressed her mouth to the pulse point in his throat. Her nightdress whispered along his inner thighs as she drew it up and off, causing him to shiver with pleasure. Then her arms were around his shoulders, her fingers tracing down his spine. Her warm body was pressed to his cool one, but all Bill could do was hold onto her as Fleur placed kisses on his throat, his shoulders, and chest.

"Come, mon amour," she whispered, standing and taking his hands to draw him up. She led him to their bed, pushing him down on the mattress. Her white body shone in the darkness in the room, as lithe and silvery as a moonbeam. Hooking her fingers in her knickers, she shimmied them off, then climbed on top of Bill, straddling him. It was instinct to reach for her, but Fleur caught his wrists and held them above his head.

"Let me," she purred into his ear.

Still holding his arms above his head, Fleur leaned down to kiss his chest, his throat, his jaw. Her wicked little tongue teased his nipple. The pain was still present, a dull ache in his bones, but now a wave of pleasure flowed over it, fine and strong.

Fleur was working her way down his tired and aching body, leaving ripples of pleasure in her wake. Her breasts were pressed against his middle and his erection was nestled against her damp womanhood. He groaned, a sound of pleasure, bucking against her. Desperate.

"Fleur," he groaned.

She sat back on her haunches, her hair flowing around her. Normally, when they made love, she looked rather pleased with herself, but tonight her eyes were tender and her expression loving. Emotion swelled in Bill as he watched her.

She grasped his cock firmly in her hand, drawing her thumb over its head. He sucked in a breath, hips driving into her grasp. Raising up on her knees, she guided it into her body and sunk down until he was fully sheathed within her.

Pleasure, undiluted, pure pleasure washed over him.

Fleur rode down on him again, her intimate muscles gripping him. Bill cried out roughly, his hips rising to meet her. They moved in time, Fleur taking the lead. Bill grasped her thighs with trembling fingers, his mind too foggy to think beyond that moment.

It was quick and searing. Before he knew it, he was cumming inside of her, and she was collapsing on his heaving chest.

oOo

Percy returned to his flat after work to find Oliver Wood leaning against his door. This was the first good thing to happen to Percy all day. There was a part of him who wanted to rush up to his friend and…well, maybe not hug him. Slap him on the back, perhaps. Regardless, Percy made himself walk to his flat door at a measured pace.

"I thought perhaps I needed a pair of breasts to rate a visit from you these days," Percy said as he lowered the wards to allow him and his friend into the flat.

Oliver blushed, shoving his hands into his pockets. "You know, I am still up at Red's Wood most of the time."

They lapsed into silence. Red's Wood was the Wood family home in Scotland. Oliver had been living up there with his parents, younger brother, sister-in-law, and nephew since April when both of Oliver's older brothers were killed. Dougal and Fergus Wood, the same ages as Bill and Charlie respectively, were members of the Order of the Phoenix and had been killed in a battle with Death Eaters that Bill had narrowly escaped with his own life.

Bill had come to Percy that night before breaking the news to Oliver. It had been horrible. Even now, Percy could see the strain of it in his friend's face. Percy tried to close his mind to those memories, but found he couldn't. The way Oliver had trembled in Percy's arms upon first finding out was seared into his memory, he could almost feel those body-racking shakes now, as brief as they had been.

Oliver had switched off his own grief that night to care for those he loved. His first thought had been of his sister-in-law, Catriona, who would be alone but for her child in her own flat outside of London.

"Have you sent somebody to Catriona?" Oliver asked Bill.

"Tonks," Bill answered automatically. "She was a Hufflepuff in Fergus' year and—"

"I remember her," Oliver said. He stood abruptly from the couch, nearly knocking Bill over where he'd knelt before Oliver. "I need to go to Catriona."

Percy had waived Bill off when he offered to take the two younger wizards to Catriona Wood's flat. It had been obvious to Percy how stretched thin his older brother was. He'd just come from a battle, watched two of his best mates murdered, the grief was plain in his face. Though, strong, stoic Bill was doing an admirable job holding it together for Oliver's sake.

Percy followed Oliver through the floo to Catriona's flat. It was tidy, all the baby toys had been put away for the night, a basket of laundry was folded on the table, ready to be put away, pillows tossed carelessly back on the sofa. In the middle of it all stood Catriona herself, in a dressing gown over an old t-shirt that, if Percy had to guess, was her husband's. Her wild, flaming hair framed her pale, tear stained face. Tonks was trying to comfort her, but seemed to be bewildered herself. Somewhat to Percy's surprise, Remus Lupin was there, simply hung back, looking sorrowful.

The moment Oliver emerged from the fireplace, Catriona had launched herself into his arms. He'd held her tightly as she cried into his shoulder, "He's dead, he's dead…"over and over again. Oliver rocked her, his eyes closed, tears rolling down his cheeks.

Percy shook off the memory, concentrating on how happy he was to see Oliver instead. He led the way into the flat, resetting the wards. He hardly glanced around, he never did. There was nothing to look at.

"How's you mum holding up?" Percy asked, setting the kettle on for tea.

"She made me promise not to join the Order," Oliver replied tersely.

Percy said nothing to that for a moment. He knew that Oliver had a growing desire to join the Order of the Phoenix. They'd talked about it after the funeral. Truth be told, Percy had the same desire. Albeit for different reasons.

"Well," Percy started, pushing his glasses up, "I know how devastated she is—"

"Shut it, Percy."

"Well, some things never change, do they?" Percy gave an affected sniff, but he couldn't hide his smile. "So what now?"

Oliver shrugged. "Practice starts up next week. It'll be good to be on the Pitch again."

Famously Quidditch mad, Oliver played Keeper for the Puddlemere United reserve team. It was not only his dream come true, it was years of hard work paid off. What many had misconstrued as obsession, Percy understood to be commitment to a goal. However, Percy noticed, Oliver's tone lacked its normal enthusiasm when he spoke of Quidditch.

"Oliver," Percy said quietly, handing his friend a mug of tea. "It might take some time for life to go back to normal, for you to enjoy it again."

Oliver nodded.

"How's Katie?"

Oliver blushed again, which made Percy chuckle.

Katie Bell was one of Oliver's old Quidditch teammates from Gryffindor. Oliver had been in love with her since he was eighteen, but as she was only fifteen at the time he had kept his feelings to himself. Percy had never known Oliver to be as patient as he had been waiting for Katie to come of age, until disaster struck. Last winter, Katie had been cursed, she lingered in a coma for months. Oliver had been beside himself with regret, spending as much time at St. Mungo's as his schedule would allow. Finally, Katie woke up only for Oliver's brothers to die hours later. He was only able to see her once, briefly, before he'd had to return home.

"Brilliant," Oliver said with a sloppy smile. "She's living with Angelina and Alicia near Diagon Alley now."

Percy made a face. "Not the best neighborhood these days."

"I mentioned that," Oliver said with a scowl, "and was handed my bollocks on a platter."

"That's what comes of dating little Gryffindor spitfires, I imagine."

Just then, a silvery lioness dropped into the kitchen before them. Reflexively, Percy pulled his wand out, staring at the cat wide eyed. Oliver reached over and pushed Percy's hand away.

"Relax, it's a Patronus. That's how the Order communicate."

Percy blew out a breath. Yes, of course, he knew that. Bill had shown him how to produce a Patronus that would bear a message, but Percy had never had to use the spell, nor had he seen it before. Obviously, Oliver had seen it performed, however. A small pang pierced his chest when Percy realized why and how Oliver knew of that spell.

Percy turned his attention to the ghostly cat. Without ever having seen it before, he knew instantly to whom the lioness belonged.

"Percy," came Fleur's husky, accented voice, "your presence is required at zee Cottage tonight for dinner at seven. Do not be late."

The Patronus evaporated.

"Perce," laughed Oliver, "is there something you've forgotten to tell me about? Like a new girlfriend with some interesting connections?"

Percy gave Oliver a shove and said with exasperation, "That's my sister-in-law, you prat. I suppose I should send her a Patronus in response?"

"Well, it would be the proper thing to do," Oliver agreed in an overly prim voice.

Percy scowled at him. Besides only possessing a theoretical understanding of this variation of the spell, Percy had always struggled with Expecto Patronum. He could never pull up a memory strong enough to do it properly. He closed his eyes and thought of the Christmas in his fifth year when he, Ron and the twins were stuck at Hogwarts with Harry. His brothers had really included him that morning, but that wasn't quite enough. He thought of the moment Ron had been pulled from the Black Lake during the second task of the Tri Wizard Tournament, but that had been relief more than happiness.

"Expecto Patronum!"

Percy opened his eyes to find Oliver's bulldog staring up at him and Oliver roaring with laughter.

"Very funny, you git," Percy grumped.

"Hey, mate, there are very few things I do better than you, I have to take the piss where I can."

Percy made a rude gesture and stomped off to his bedroom. It was good to have Oliver around again.

oOo

When they heard the pop of Apparition, Audrey volunteered to meet whoever it was and dashed out the door. Presumably it was Percy Weasley, Fleur's brother-in-law and the boy—man—that Audrey had secretly fancied since she was fourteen. Not that anybody knew, not even Fleur. Merlin, Percy didn't even know who she was!

Audrey was rather embarrassed to feel so giddy over meeting her school girl crush. As she crested the sand dune, she felt butterflies in her stomach, just like when she would see him unexpectedly in the hallways of Hogwarts. She shook out her chin length curls and wished she was wearing a pretty little frock instead of the Muggle overalls she'd put on that morning not realizing that she would end the night dining with Percy Weasley.

Damn!

"Hullo!" she called out, reaching out and waving at the figure just visible in the dusk light.

Her heart skipped a beat as she recognized that tall, lanky form. He was, she thought, even taller than the last time she had seen him at the Tri Wizard Tournament. The setting sun reflected off his glasses as he turned to her, blinding her for a moment.

"Hello?" he called back.

Audrey came level to Percy, who was looking at her as if she were a crumple horned nargle or whatever it was that Lovegood girl used to go on about. At least, Audrey thought to herself, she'd put on a red tank top under her overalls. Red was her best color. She cocked her hip and smiled at him. He blinked.

Good.

"I'm Audrey," she said simply, extending her hand, "Fleur's friend. She's finishing dinner so I volunteered to come collect you."

"Oh." His eyes followed her arm up to her chest. He blatantly stared at her breasts, they weren't much, but they were perky. Then he remembered himself and looked her in the face. Audrey smiled more broadly, she knew she had a brilliant smile.

"Well, it's nice to see—I mean meet you," he stuttered, looking as if he'd just been Stunned. "Percy Weasley."

"Oh, I know," she said, turning on her heel and heading back towards Shell Cottage.

"You do?"

Audrey didn't look behind her to see if he was following. He would be, she had no doubt.

"Well, you were Head Boy, weren't you? My sixth year."

"You were a year behind me at Hogwarts?" he said dumbly, confusion in his voice. Audrey wondered what he was trying to figure out.

"Yes," she replied as the house came into view. "I was a Ravenclaw, all Sprayberrys are."

"But you weren't a Prefect. I would have remembered you."

"Would you have?" She did glance at him over her shoulder then, making sure to give her hair an extra toss. "More's the pity I was never a Prefect then. It would have had the double benefit of getting my parents off my back and having met you."

"Meeting me?" he echoed.

Audrey mounted the first step, which put them closer in height, and turned to look at him. "Well, of course, I fancied you terribly in school."

And with that, she turned once more on her heel and walked into the Cottage's kitchen. Fleur stood at the butcher's block, having just pulled the quiche from the oven. The French witch looked at Audrey searchingly, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. The brunette gave her the beatific smile that had managed to get her out of trouble a million times over the years.

"Bonsoir, Percy," Fleur trilled.

Percy stumbled in behind Audrey, bumping into her as she was still standing in the middle of the doorway. He looked down at her, his chest brushing against her back. Audrey craned her neck to look up at him, dimpling adorably.

"I see you have met Audrey," Fleur said. "And zat you are up to somezing, Audrey."

Audrey sent her friend an innocent look that was met with a very French scowl.

"Where is Bill?" Percy asked nervously, sliding around Audrey.

"He always works late after zee full moon," Fleur said nonchalantly.

Percy was no more fooled by Fleur's answer than Audrey had been the first time she'd heard it.

"So is it bad for him, then?" Percy pressed.

Fleur looked up with wide blue eyes. "He does not get much sleep," was all she said in reply.

It was plain that Percy wanted to push Fleur for more answers, but Audrey had been down this road with her friend before and it was a dead end. Bill and Fleur were intensely private about the aftereffects of Greyback's attack. Before Percy could say anything more, Audrey put a hand on his arm. When he looked down at her, she gave her head a little shake and saw that he understood her meaning.

"To what do I owe my invitation?" Percy asked, striving for a casual manner that didn't seem to fit.

Fleur and Audrey shared a look, something that was not lost on Percy. He looked warily from his sister-in-law to her friend. The color drained from his face and his knuckles whitened where he was grasping the back of the chair in front of him.

"I made quiche," Fleur said brightly. "I hope you like it."

oOo

If there was one thing that Percy knew, it was the look of two people up to no good. He didn't grow up with Fred and George for nothing. Fleur and her little, dark-haired friend were definitely up to something.

Even as Fleur and Audrey cleared away the dishes, something they insisted they did not need help doing, they had their heads bent together, whispering. Percy did not like this one bit. First of all, Audrey had trouble written all over her. He recognized that mischievous look in her eye, he'd seen it in his own little sister's often enough. Second, and more importantly, the two of them were going to get him in trouble with Bill, and that could only end with Percy being murdered by his older brother, he was sure of it.

When they returned to the table with an apple tart and dessert plates, he figured it was time to cut to the chase.

"Whatever you two are up to, I think you have the wrong brother," he said without preamble. "I'm the straight-laced, Ministry-loving prat, remember? Maybe you meant to have Fred and George over instead?"

Fleur set the tart down, her face was the picture of seriousness. "Non, I do not zink I do. You are exactly zee brother I need for what I have planned."

Percy raised his eyebrows at this proclamation. Finally, they were getting somewhere.

"I have been zinking very hard about zee information you brought to us zee other night," Fleur began.

Percy shot a look at Audrey. That was sensitive and privileged information he had passed on, meant only for the Order of Phoenix.

"I have told Audrey," Fleur confirmed, nodding at her friend who was standing beside her. "She can be counted on to keep a secret, and she has other talents zat will come in handy."

Oh, I bet she is very talented, Percy thought then flushed the full Weasley blush as he considered where his thoughts were leading him. He chanced a glance at Audrey. She flashed him that cheerful smile that made it hard to think.

"So, um," he started.

"We are going to smuggle zee Muggle-borns out of zee country, and we need your help," Fleur said bluntly.

Percy blinked at her. He believed her, he didn't know why, but he did.

"What is the plan?" Percy asked without argument or, indeed, much thought. "And what do you need from me?"

Fleur held Percy's eye, her voice snapping with command. "I have connections abroad. I can create a network on zee Continent, to hide zee refugees, to set zem up with a temporary life, but first we must get zem out of England."

"What need from you is more information," Audrey added, sitting next to Percy at the table. "Obviously, we'll want to go to the most vulnerable Muggle-borns first."

"Okay, done," Percy said with a nod. "But how will we get the Muggle-borns out of England? We will need a network on this side of the Channel, as well."

Fleur looked down, her expression strained. Percy realized that he had inadvertently hit upon the weak spot in her plan.

"I will go to Bill. I will ask him to help find some trustworthy people to work as operatives here."

"That won't be necessary. I'll go to my friend, Oliver. He's more than ready to join the fight, and I would trust him with my life."

"Oliver Wood?" Fleur said, and nodded sharply. "Oui, Oliver would be most welcome."

Of course, Percy realized, Fleur would have known Dougal and Fergus.

"Is he still playing Quidditch?" Audrey asked. "That might be a useful cover for us."

Percy looked at her again, lost for a moment in how silky her curls looked. He always thought his own curls felt rather like a bristle brush. "Yes," he finally answered. "And he'll be able to recruit others to our cause."

"What about your family?" Fleur asked Audrey.

Audrey pulled a disgusted face. "You can't count on the Sprayberrys for anything. We are famously neutral in all things except for the support and preservation of libraries."

"But not you?" Percy asked, fascinated despite himself.

"Audrey is passionate about all zings," Fleur answered. "She wants to change zee world."

"Really? That is rather ambitious," Percy commented seriously. "How do you plan to do that?"

Audrey laughed. "Well, so far I have only been changing the lives of Squibs. Now, I reckon, I'll be helping the Muggle-borns. We'll see where the wind takes me after the war."

"So no plan then?"

She leaned forward, and he could see down her little top. She wasn't wearing a bra, he noticed. "I am not a planner, much to the despair of generations of Sprayberrys, my parents for starters."

Fleur cleared her throat. "Zat is very well, but I do have a plan."

Reluctantly, Percy looked to his sister-in-law. "Before we go any further," he said, pushing his glasses up his nose. "Does Bill know about this?"

"Does Bill know about what?"

Three pairs of eyes turned to the man standing in the doorway. Bill was carrying a leather satchel that was much too cool to be called a brief case like Percy's at home. The scars on his face gave him a harsh look as Bill surveyed the three people seated around his kitchen table. Percy recognized the look in his brother's eyes, it was wary and alert, just the same look he used to give the twins when they were plotting something.

"Mon Bill!" Fleur exclaimed. "I have a plate for you under a warming spell."

With alacrity, she shot around the butcher's block to collect Bill's plate. The man in question was watching her suspiciously. Well, Percy supposed, this answered his question rather eloquently.

"I think I can wait for dinner," Bill said without heat. "Hello, Percy, Audrey. This is an interesting little dinner party. Did I forget that we were having company?"

He looked to his wife, eyebrows raised.

oOo

Nervous was not an emotion that Fleur often experienced. This buzzing feeling under her skin and in her stomach was alien and unpleasant. She wanted it to go away, but it did not. Fleur twisted her wedding ring around her finger. It was as though she had been caught in a lie, which was ridiculous. It was not like she intended to keep her plans from Bill, but as he watched her with narrowed eyes, she felt terribly guilty.

"I-I asked Percy over to enlist his help?" she said with less confidence than she would have liked.

Bill's brow furrowed. "With what, pray tell?"

Audrey gripped the back of her chair and looked up at Bill with that unfettered boldness she cultivated. "Fleur wants to start a refugee network, for the Muggle-borns. Get them out of the country."

Sparing Audrey the merest glance, Bill's gaze snapped back to Fleur. His face was grim, his eyes flashing with anger. "You told Audrey about Percy? Damn it, Fleur, I didn't think I needed to tell you that Percy's visit here was dangerous and needed to be kept secret."

"I understand zee risks that Percy took," Fleur started calmly, clutching the edge of the butcher's block. "Maybe you and I could talk about zis in private?"

"Evidently you don't!" Bill snapped, ignoring her last statement. "Do you understand the danger you've put him in?"

"Oui, but—"

"Maybe you aren't ready for the Order after all."

Bill had not raised his voice, but his tone was severe. Audrey flinched, while Percy was studying the pattern in the lace tablecloth. Fleur tried not to think about their audience. Instead, she simmered in her anger. She did not like to be dismissed. It was a mistake too many people made, and she would not let Bill make that same error. She eyed him as he stomped by the table to the door, his face red with fury.

"Zat is quite enough!" Fleur yelled after him, throwing a tripping jinx at Bill and watching him stumble. "Now zat you have humiliated me in front of my friend and your brother, I get to say my…" The English phrase escaped her, and she made a growl of frustration. "Shut up and listen to me!"

Fleur had everybody's attention now. Bill looked furious, but she would not cower. Percy was looking at her as if he had never seen her before. Let him stare, he had been warned that Fleur had a temper. He would survive. Only Audrey was determined, clearly ready to lend her support.

"You took zee information Percy brought us to Kingsley, non," Fleur said. She could hear the ice coating her words. "And what did zee Order do wiz it?"

Bill eyed her warily, his words clipped when he answered. "We recruited McGonagall and Flitwick's help—warning the Muggle-born students to go into hiding before September."

"Oui, and zat is a good start, but I can do more. I can offer zee Muggle-borns mercy."

"That's a mighty arrogant statement."

Fleur raised her chin in defiance. "My parents will be zee first point of contact. I can take zee Muggle-borns to Europe, hide zem amongst zee Wizarding communities zere."

"How do you plan to do that?" he asked grudgingly.

"I have started researching how to make a Portkey," Audrey said. "If we can get them to the coast, I should be able to get them to France."

"I know how to make Portkeys," Percy said, pointedly not looking at Bill.

"I have cousins in Belgium zat will help move zee refugees to the next stop. Viktor will help." Fleur held Bill's gaze. "And Charlie."

"Do you know how dangerous this is?" Bill demanded.

"Yes," Fleur said, using the English word for emphasis.

"How do you propose to round up the Muggle-borns to get them to the coast in the first place?"

Fleur looked to Percy. "Zat is where your brother comes into zee plan. We will need him to bring us information, so zat we will know who is a-a…."

"Priority," Audrey supplied, her eyes still locked on Fleur.

"You can't ask him to do that," Bill declared. He banged one fist against the worktop. "You are going to get him killed."

Fleur squared her shoulders, not flinching from the anger she saw in her husband's eyes. He thought her naïve, she was not. She understood the risks, for everybody, and not just the mortal ones. She knew that getting Percy killed would be the end of her marriage. That knowledge weighed heavily on Fleur, and had from the time this insane plan took root.

"I know," she said quietly. "I know how dangerous zis is, and I know zat Percy is at zee greatest risk."

"Then why?" Bill asked and his tone was pleading.

Tears came to Fleur's eyes then. She could take Bill's anger, but not his anguish.

"It is zee right zing to do," she whispered, fighting the urge to go to him, her Bill, and hold him. She had to make him see, to understand.

Percy stood then. "I want to do this," he asserted, his voice firm, his shoulders straight. "Any risk I am taking, I am doing so willingly."

"Percy," Bill snapped, his eyes on his brother now, "if you're caught, they will torture you, and then they will murder you. Are you ready to sign on for that?"

"Yes," Percy said plainly, his expression immovable. "It's about time I do the right thing, isn't it?"

"Don't do this because you think you need to prove something to me or the twins or Dad," Bill said cruelly. "We don't want you to get yourself killed."

"But he does have to prove himself," Audrey said quietly, looking at her hands in her lap.

Percy looked at her in shock, but said nothing.

"Shut it, Audrey," Bill growled at her.

"Don't talk to her like that," Percy snarled. "She's right. I can never go home or look my brothers in the eye if I don't step up and do the right thing. The five of you have done too much, Mum and Dad and Ginny, too."

Bill had a desperate, wild look in his eyes when he turned to Fleur. "You'll get yourself killed! You'll take them with you!"

"It is a risk I am willing to take," Fleur replied quietly. "Zey have to make that decision for zemselves."

Bill made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat. "There is enough danger in this world without you going out and searching for more. I want you to be safe."

"And what about Tonks?" Fleur demanded, narrowing her eyes at Bill. "What about her papa? He is not safe! I could have helped zem if I had known, Bill. I am not going to turn away now when I know I can make a difference. S'il te plait. Please. I need you to understand."

"I want you to be safe," he repeated. He turned his eyes away from her, he looked defeated.

"I do not ask you to be safe." Fleur stared at Bill a moment, willing him to look at her, needing him to hear her. He did not, so she went on. "When you go on an Order mission, I know you are doing what you zink is right. Do not ask less of me."

The room went silent, but finally Bill looked at her. There was no one who understood the toll that the last months had taken on Bill better than Fleur. She understood his need to keep her safe. She knew that he did not think she was incapable or weak, he knew better. He was asking for himself, and she wished she could grant him this grace, but she could not.

What she was intending to do, it was important, and it was bigger than her and Bill.

"When did you put all of this together?" he asked miserably, his shoulders slumping.

"I started planning zat night Percy came to us wiz zee information," she admitted softly.

"Three days ago? Were you and Audrey conspiring all this time, then?"

"Oui," Fleur admitted. "We have much work to do, and little time."

Bill came over to the butcher's block, placing one hand on the surface. He was close enough to touch now.

"Then why am I only hearing about this now?" he asked earnestly.

"Because of zee moon," Fleur admitted. "I did not want to burden you during zat time."

"I see," he said quietly. He looked at her with hurt in his eyes, then, "Please don't treat me like an invalid."

Fleur gasped, tears spilling onto her cheeks. She felt ashamed that she had made him feel diminished. "Non!" she cried, "I would never…I did not mean…."

"I am not weak. I could have handled this."

"I do not zink you are weak," Fleur whispered. "I would never zink zat."

Bill held Fleur's eyes for a moment, then said in an even tone, "You should tell me your plans, shouldn't you?"

Fleur wiped her eyes. "Audrey and I will need to go to Europe, to put everyzing in order."

"When?" Bill asked.

"Tomorrow?" Fleur replied, cringing at her answer.

Bill looked from Fleur to Audrey and back again. "Merlin's pants, you two have been busy."

oOo

"Let's start with these clever little things," Audrey said happily. She stood and extracted something from her pocket, enlarging it. "This is a Muggle notepad. I have charmed it so we can communicate with one another."

"I have zee master," Fleur explained further. "All communication and orders will come from me. I will write in French directly to zee person I wish to communicate with."

"And for those of us who do not read French?" Percy asked.

"It's a simple translator charm," Audrey said. "Let's show him."

Fleur went upstairs, and when she reappeared a few moments later, she had two more notepads. She handed one to Percy, along with a Muggle ink pen. She then scribbled something in the notepad she was holding.

Sitting next to Percy at the kitchen table, Bill looked over his brother's shoulder as he opened the pad. Loopy, blue words appeared on the paper. Bill smirked; Percy might not be able to read French, but he could.

"Now," Audrey instructed, "tap it with your wand and say 'Gallorum anglicus privatis.' The words will translate to English, but only for you."

Percy did as he was instructed. Biting back another smirk, Bill watched Percy's face as the words must have changed: Do you think Audrey is pretty? Percy's neck went Weasley red, he shot Fleur a dirty look. She just smiled in return.

"That's some impressive magic," Bill said.

"We are very clever witches," Fleur said haughtily.

"Did you create the spell?" Percy asked, looking to Fleur.

"I did," Audrey said.

Bill noted that Percy looked rather captivated, which seemed to please Audrey. This was an interesting complication, and Bill was not at all sure what he thought of this. Besides the fact that Percy was rather straight laced, he'd only had the one serious relationship, and that had ended badly. In fact, up until a few minutes ago, Bill would have said that Percy still hadn't recovered from the break up, and that had been two years ago.

As for Audrey, she'd never had a serious relationship as far as Bill knew. That was not to say that she hadn't had her fair share of wizards, because she had. Usually the dimwitted type who were nice to look at. Underneath her slaggishness was a witch with a good heart. She had a do-gooder's earnest need to make the world a better place. And further still was a young witch still trying to figure out where in her world she fit.

It wouldn't have occurred to Bill to put these two together. He didn't think Audrey was much interested in a boyfriend, and he didn't think Percy was cut out for casual sex. On the other hand, it might be exactly what he needed.

Bill dragged his mind away from the mundane and looked at his wife, who was still standing by the butcher block. He motioned her over to the table. When she came near, Bill tucked his hand around Fleur's waist and steered her into his lap. She gave him a toothless little smile, threading her fingers into his hair.

All the anger he'd felt earlier was gone, but that didn't mean their argument was over. All the same, Bill knew he couldn't stop what Fleur had started. It was important. It was right. Moreover, she was right. He couldn't ask for less from her than she expected of him.

"We'll need way stations," Percy said. "Safe places where we can harbor the refugees until we can transport them abroad."

"It would be best if we could move them in as few stages as possible," Audrey countered.

"But they will want their families with them," Percy reasoned, pushing his glasses up his nose. "It may take some time to collect them all, and until we're able to, we'll need to harbor them somewhere."

Audrey looked thoughtful.

"I will ask Oliver to stake out some likely places," Percy said. "He has to travel with Puddlemere anyway, that will offer a likely cover."

"You have not spoken to Oliver yet," Fleur reminded him. "He may not wish to be a part of zis."

"He'll do it," Percy murmured.

"You'll need to place the way stations under a Fidelius Charm," Bill said, tapping his fingers on the table.

"I can do that," Percy said confidently.

"Can you?" Bill asked with a grin.

"Fred and George never found my journal, did they?"

Fleur cut through the brothers' prattle, "I will be Secret Keeper."

Bill folded his lips into a thin line, not happy with this development, but he said nothing about it. Instead, he asked, "Where will you try to move them from?"

"I would feel better about the Portkeys if we can move them from the coast of England to the coast of France," Audrey said. "At least until I have mastered the spell."

"Not from here," Bill declared in a stern tone, tapping his finger against the table with each word for emphasis. "Shell Cottage needs to be a safe haven for Fleur."

"For us," Fleur corrected him.

Bill looked at her, but he didn't amend his statement. "And for the Order of the Phoenix."

Percy cleared his throat. "The way I see it, Fleur shouldn't be in the field at all."

There was an outburst of female outrage at this statement, but Percy held up his hand and waited patiently for silence before continuing.

"Fleur is the point of contact and Secret Keeper for the way stations," Percy continued reasonably. "Ultimately she will become the record keeper. It's important that she remain above it all as much as possible, so that she can continue the work if one of us is killed, and so she can return the refugees to England when the time comes."

Audrey looked at Fleur apologetically. "It does make sense, I reckon."

Fleur was looking at Bill, but he fought to keep his face passive. He hoped she couldn't read the relief in his eyes. This was the best possible scenario, as far as he was concerned. Later, Bill would have to thank Percy for falling on the sword for him.

"So," Percy said, "you ladies leave for France tomorrow?"

"Yes," Audrey answered. "I was planning to do the Portkey, give it a test run, if you will."

"If you leave early, before I have to report to the Ministry, I can oversee it," Percy offered, looking at Audrey from under his eyelashes. "Make sure you don't land in the middle of the Channel and all that."

"We would be grateful, Percy," Fleur said.

"And while you're on the Continent, I'll speak to Oliver," Percy told her. "He'll have a few ideas of others to recruit."

Audrey yawned, then covered her mouth with a blush.

"Then we should call it a night," Percy said, looking at Audrey again.

"I reckon so," Audrey conceded. "I don't like all this early morning business."

Audrey stood and stretched. Percy's eyes traveled over the pretty, little witch.

"I'll-I'll see you home," Percy stuttered. "I mean, make sure you get there safe and all."

"I'm Apparating to my brother's flat," Audrey said with an amused little grin. "I doubt I will get into too much trouble between here and there."

"I don't know, Audrey," Bill put in with a grin, "you have a penchant for getting into trouble."

Fleur elbowed him roughly, but Audrey gave him a twinkling smile.

"True enough," she agreed. "Dangerous times and all that. Can't be too careful, I reckon." She leveled Percy with a look that had scorched better wizards. "You want to play knight errant, do you, Gryffindor?"

Percy stood, straightening to his full height. "Erm, yes?"

There was a scraping of chairs and shuffling of feet as the quartet moved out the door and onto the back porch. Fleur kissed each of them goodbye, then she leaned against Bill as they watched the other pair disappear into the dark. When they were gone, Bill returned to the kitchen, watching as Fleur levitated the plates off the table and charmed a scrub brush to clean the last of the dishes in the sink.

Honestly, Bill was quite exhausted. The full moon took more out of him than he cared to admit, but tonight's events had left him emotionally raw. Sometimes it felt as though his world was spinning more and more out of control—and it was. Everyday wizarding England sank deeper into the murky depths of this war. No one, least of all Bill, seemed to know what Harry Potter had planned, much less You-Know-Who. All they seemed to do was react. In all of that, Bill felt as though there was a small amount of respite here at Shell Cottage, with Fleur on the periphery of the danger. With Dad and Mum, the twins, Ron, and even Ginny up to their necks in the war, Bill had been glad that at least Percy was out of harm's way.

Now, that illusion was crushed as well. Percy may very well be putting himself at more risk than any of his other brothers, except Ron. Both scenarios seemed so unlikely, but that was the reality of the world these days.

It worried Bill that Percy felt he needed to prove himself. Percy was, by nature, cautious. He wouldn't take unnecessary risks. At the same time, Percy was a Gryffindor for a reason.

And Fleur….

She stood with her back to him filling the sink with washing water. Edging up behind her, Bill braced his hands on her hips, pressing his lips against her neck, He filled his senses with her, her tangy taste, her flowery scent, her silken warmth. She moaned and arched her neck for him.

"Are you sure about this, love?" he asked gruffly.

Fleur looked at Bill over her shoulder, her blue eyes serious. "As sure as I am about you."

Her words were so quiet that Bill tried to fool himself into thinking he had heard nothing at all. It didn't work. He knew what she said, and he understood the meaning behind it.

He sighed heavily.

Damn.

Chapter 4

Audrey and Percy were silent as they trudged up the beach to the Apparition point. She didn't mind, though. As fun as it had been to flirt with Percy earlier, she needed some time alone with her own thoughts. Bill's outburst after dinner had shaken her.

As always, Audrey had been so caught up in the excitement of making their plans that she had failed to consider the danger involved. And the consequences of being caught? That had never even crossed her mind. Killed or tortured?

She shivered. Merlin, she didn't know which prospect frightened her more.

"Are you cold?" Percy asked beside her.

"What?" she asked absently. "Oh. No."

After the events of the Triwizard Tournament, she had whole-heartedly believed Harry Potter. In no small part because Fleur believed him, and Audrey trusted Fleur's judgment. However, while Audrey had watched her friend become slowly more and more involved in the war, she had stayed safely on the sidelines.

Truthfully, it had never occurred to Audrey to become involved. That was the Sprayberry way. One never dirtied her hands in the petty quarrels of her fellow wizards. Sprayberrys were too enlightened for such things, after all. And really, all that excess emotion was exhausting. No, it was important to meet all things with cool indifference or, at the very least, calm neutrality.

But Audrey had thought she was better than that. She had thought she was different. She cared for her fellow man. She cared about the world she lived in. She wanted to make a difference. Just not enough to actually die for it, apparently.

That's why she was a Ravenclaw in the end, she supposed.

"We can Disapparate from here," Percy said, stopping her with a hand on her arm.

Audrey looked up at the tall, singular figure outlined against the black sky. His hair glowed a faint orange, and his glasses were a silvery outline even in the dark. He reached out to her, as if to take her arm in proper side-along Apparition formation, but she turned to face him instead.

She took both of his hands in hers. He had large hands with long fingers and fine bones. They were smooth, but surprisingly strong. Audrey ran her thumb along the index finger of his left hand until she found the callus his wand left there and rubbed it in a circular pattern.

"Your—your hands are shaking," Percy said hoarsely, his hands tightening around hers. "Are you sure you are okay to Disapparate?"

Instead of answering, she closed her eyes and spun in place.

When Audrey opened her eyes again, they were met with the sight of a dark room, a frilly bed lit by moonlight.

"Oh, shite!" she muttered, staining to hear…. Yes, there it was: the snap-click of her mother's heels.

"Audrey?"

She looked wide-eyed up at the ginger haired man. "Shite!" she said again, this time in panic.

"What's wrong?" Percy asked in a perfectly normal voice.

"Sh!" she hushed, then started pushing him. "Hurry! Hide!"

"What?" he demanded incredulously, not budging at all.

"Please…ugh…she will be here—" Audrey budged her hip against him, putting her whole body into the effort of getting him to move. "Behind the bed."

"Where are we?" he asked. She saw a flash of white on his face. Was he smirking at her?

"Shh!"

She pushed him again and they both clattered to the floor in a loud bang. Percy made an "oomph" sound as he hit the floor, Audrey sprawled half on top of him. She stared at him for what felt like days, but could have only been a moment. They were laying in the moonlight from the window and Audrey could plainly see Percy's smirk now.

"Stay here," she commanded. "And be quiet."

She scrambled to her feet, being none too careful about jabbing him in the ribs with her elbow as she stood up.

"Audrey!" her mother said in exasperation, flinging the door open. "How many times do I have to tell you not to Apparate directly into the house? It's bad manners, dear."

"I know, Mother. I'm sorry," Audrey said, putting on her most contrite voice. She was standing on the other side of the bed now. With a swish of her wand, the lights in the room lit.

"What are you doing here?" Mother asked, she peered over Audrey's shoulder. "Did I hear voices? Is somebody here with you?"

Audrey made a concerted effort not to look over her shoulder at the bed. Her mother liked to live in the fantasy that her daughters were perfect little witches. The one good thing about having sisters so much older than her was that Audrey could learn from their example, she knew keeping up the illusion was beneficial to staying in her mother's good graces.

Distraction, Audrey had found, was always a useful tool.

"Seth was mean to me," she burst out, tears welling in her eyes. "I just couldn't stay at his flat a moment longer, Mummy. And he makes me sleep on the sofa."

Well, the last part was true. It was even a legitimate complaint. He wouldn't transfigure that lumpy excuse for a sofa for her and he knew she was rubbish at transfiguration.

"Audrey," Mother said with yet another exasperated sigh. It seemed that Mother was forever exasperated with Audrey, but she came over and patted Audrey's back. "Why are you living with your brother? Come home, darling, and we'll help you find a real job."

Audrey pulled away. She forgot about the act she was putting on as Mother's words rankled. This was a fight they had been having since OWL year. Or more precisely, when Audrey brought home two Os, one E, two As, and one rather unfortunate P.

"I did have a real job," Audrey snapped, hating that she sounded like a petulant child. "It had a paycheck and everything."

"You can hardly call what you made a living, dear," Mother said.

"I managed my own flat."

"It was a bedsit—little more than a broom cupboard above a take away restaurant on Straightaway Lane. If it weren't for your friend, Fleur, I don't know how you would have managed to feed yourself."

"I did perfectly fine with or without Fleur, thank you very much."

"Well, now that your little foundation has closed down, I think I can get you on at the Ministry."

Audrey's mouth gaped indignantly. "Mother, even if it weren't being run by Death Eaters, I would never set foot in the Ministry."

"Pish, Death Eaters," Mother scoffed. "You are overly dramatic as usual."

Audrey rolled her eyes. Of course Mother (and probably Daddy, too) would prefer to ignore the presence of Death Eaters in the Ministry of Magic. Acknowledging such difficult truths might upset the balance of their delicate little world.

"Oh," Audrey challenged, folding her arms over her chest, "I suppose the Muggle-born Registration Commission is a friendly social club started up by Dolores Umbridge, then?"

Mother heaved another sigh. "Speaking to you is so tiring. I think I will go off to bed. Feel free to stay the night, dear."

"Thank you, Mother," Audrey muttered, wrapping her arms around herself.

"Oh, and I wish you would wear something more presentable," Mother said as she closed the door.

Stomping her foot on the floor, Audrey shoved her fist into her mouth to stifle a scream. She knew her sisters had a strained relationship with Mother, but there was no denying that Audrey was the black sheep of the family. She and Mother had been pushing and pulling at one another since the beginning, it seemed. It wasn't that Mother didn't love her youngest daughter, she just didn't understand Audrey. That was what Audrey told herself and she knew it was true, but that didn't make it hurt less.

oOo

Normally, Percy would feel awful about overhearing such a private and humiliating conversation. He supposed that he did feel bad for Audrey that it had happened in front of a perfect stranger, but that was the extent of his guilt. He'd found the whole thing enlightening, actually.

As was his position on the floor by her bed.

Firstly, while he didn't know how many siblings Audrey had, it was quite obvious that she was the youngest. Only the baby of the family could wheedle so expertly as that. He ought to know, he'd seen his own baby sister do it often enough.

Secondly, Audrey had rather interesting reading taste. There was a stack of Muggle paperbacks under her bed. Each of them had a shirtless, muscle-bound man kissing a woman with a heaving bosom on the cover. Percy's own chest did not look like that. He'd always thought himself rather scrawny, truth be told. He hoped Audrey did not have unrealistic expectations.

Thirdly, he was rather impressed with her spunk. Among other things. Like the way it felt when she was lying on top of him for that split second. Or the fact that just realizing that she had Apparated them into her room was enough to give him an erection. Or that he had smiled more in the short hours since they met than he had in years.

Percy drew a book out from under the bed and began thumbing through it. He bent one knee, resting the other ankle atop of it, generally making himself comfortable. It wasn't too long and he noticed the bed shift, Audrey must have climbed on top of it. Moments later, her face was peering down at him.

He glanced up at her and suppressed a smirk that felt something akin to cheeky. "I could have Disillusioned myself."

She tucked her hair behind her ears. "I hadn't thought of that," she mumbled.

Percy had heard her crying earlier, but that had been a show for her mother. Regardless, he had expected Audrey's eyes to look red and puffy, but he hadn't expected them to look sad. He didn't like to see her like that and found that he was willing to do anything to make her smile again. But how? He had never thought of himself as the type to cheer somebody up.

"Say!" he said, grabbing onto the first thought that came to mind. "What is wrong with the Ministry?"

She snorted and gave him a wry look. Well, that was a slight improvement.

"Besides the Death Eaters?" he added.

"I don't know, the Death Eaters might be an improvement," she replied sarcastically. "At least there's a bit of excitement now."

"I'll have you know, the Ministry provides many important services and functions," he said, sounding pompous.

"Working for the Ministry is not everyone's highest aspiration, Mr. Future Minister of Magic," she quipped, but there still wasn't that boldness in her voice that he had admired earlier.

Then a thought occurred to him.

"How did you know that?" he asked.

She blushed. "Know what?" she hedged, as if she had admitted more than she'd meant to.

"My highest aspiration and all that?"

"Oh." She looked at her fingers, which were worrying the comforter. "Penelope."

Percy felt a weight drop in his stomach at the mention of his ex-girlfriend. "You and Penny were friends?"

"No!"

Audrey sat up so that he could no longer see her from his position on the floor. He scrambled to his feet, then stood awkwardly by her bed. She was sitting in the middle of it, tearing at a hangnail and not looking at Percy. Could he…. Would it be okay if he sat on her bed? That seemed awfully presumptuous. He barely knew her, even if he had been thinking about her seeing him half-dressed only moments ago. Or maybe because of it?

"Penelope was the Queen of the Common Room," she said finally. "It was hard to escape her, and she talked about you quite often."

"Oh," Percy said, feeling bemused. "I didn't know that."

Percy wasn't sure how he felt about this new information. His feelings for Penelope were rather confusing. He'd thought himself in love with her, thought her his ideal mate once. But their relationship had ended abruptly, and in a rather ugly fashion, as well. He'd even come to hate her. Now, Percy wasn't sure how he felt about Penelope.

"Are you waiting for an invitation?"

Audrey's voice broke Percy out of his reverie.

"Hmm?" he asked.

She laughed, giving a little shake of her head. "You won't compromise my virtue if you sit on my bed."

"At least not tonight."

Audrey's burst of laughter made Percy realize that he'd said aloud what he'd been thinking. He felt his neck and ears burn red, he wished he could shrivel up and die on the spot. Of all the moments to lose control of his inner thoughts, why now?

"Audrey," he stammered. "I—You—That was—"

She was rolling on her bed with giggles now, clutching her sides.

Watching Audrey writhe on her bed, Percy knew a sense of longing and abject humiliation. He wondered how a person could feel those two emotions at one time. He squeezed his eyes shut. Perhaps if he went home now, and they never spoke of this again, they could proceed as comrades in arms?

At least she is laughing again, whispered a little voice in the back of his head, that's what you wanted, wasn't it? Even if she is laughing at you.

"Relax, Percy," Audrey gasped between giggles. "I've been trying to get under your skin all night."

He cracked his eyes open to chance a look at her. "You have?"

"You know I have." She gave him a saucy look. "What makes you think I have any virtue left to be compromised anyway?"

His mouth went dry. "Really?"

"About as much as you, I imagine."

Percy went red again. "Did, um, Penny say that we…uh…when she spoke of me in the common room?"

"No. It was just an educated guess."

"Oh." He sat cautiously on the edge of her bed, lacing his fingers together in his lap and pointedly avoiding looking at Audrey. "So, this is your room at home?"

"It's my room at my parents' home," she confirmed. "I don't have a home at the moment."

"Why did you bring me here?"

Audrey sighed and scooted across the bed to sit beside him. "It wasn't by design, regardless of what you may think of me."

Percy dared a sidelong glance at her. What did he think of Audrey? His intellect told him that it was too soon to think anything of her, other than she was a fun flirt. Still, something else told him otherwise. Something that he didn't readily recognize. Nor did he have words for what he thought of her. All at once, Percy had tumbled into a world of confusion because of this little witch with her big brown eyes and pretty dark hair and bright smiles. Yet, he didn't feel adrift. In fact, he felt moored in a manner he hadn't since he left home.

"I was feeling scared when I Disapparated," she continued, her hair falling in her face. "I guess I wanted to be somewhere I felt safe."

"What scared you?" he asked. His fingers flexed. He wanted to push her hair behind her ear so he could see her again, but he settled for placing his hand over hers where it rested on the bed between them.

"Bill. What he said about us getting killed if we're caught. I hadn't considered that before."

They looked at each other. Then Percy smiled faintly.

"You didn't think it through?" he asked mockingly. "And you, the Ravenclaw?"

Audrey shoved him. "I'm serious!"

"I know," he replied with a grin, grabbing her hands when she went to push him again.

"What is this? Some stupid Gryffindor bravado?"

"Yeah, a bit," he admitted.

"Aren't you scared?" she whispered, and swallowed thickly. "I was scared for you when Bill talked about what the Death Eaters would do to you."

Percy thought about his answer for a moment. He wasn't exactly scared, or at least he hadn't been before. For so long he had seen his life as having no value. He had no family, his career sucked his soul dry, and no amount of perseverance seemed to be changing any of that. His friendship with Oliver and infrequent visits with Bill were the only things that kept him tied to the good parts of life.

Breaking into Dolores Umbridge's office had felt thrilling. He'd felt truly alive for the first time maybe ever. More than that, he felt like a Weasley again. Finally, maybe, he was doing something right.

"It's stupid of me to say that I wasn't afraid, isn't it?" he said. "But I didn't feel as though I had anything to lose before so I wasn't properly scared as I should have been."

"And now?" Audrey asked.

"Well," he looked at her out of the corner of his eye, "if I were dead, I would never get the chance to compromise your virtue, would I?"

Audrey blushed prettily. "Should I safeguard my virtue to keep you alive then?"

"Let's not get carried away," he blustered.

"You don't think that sounds terribly romantic? I could send you off to battle with my favor. Courtly love and all that."

"I don't think I'm a terribly romantic fellow, no."

Percy felt himself smiling so broadly that his cheeks hurt. And he was laughing, really laughing. Although, he couldn't bring himself to look directly at Audrey, he kept sneaking glances at her from the corner of his eye. She was trying not to laugh, but losing the battle. Merlin's beard, she had a pretty mouth. He wanted to kiss it, to taste it, but not yet.

oOo

"All right," Audrey announced, pulling out her wand. "If we're going to speak of my supposed virtue and not do anything about it, then I will require fortification."

She summoned a bottle of cheap elf wine that she kept hidden in her room. Trips to her parents' house, she found, were made more bearable when imbibing liquor.

"Find something to transfigure into cups," she ordered. "Unless you are uncouth enough to drink straight from the bottle, which suits my mood just fine."

"This looks like a bad idea," Percy hedged, eyeing the bottle in her hand.

"Come, Gryffindor, live a little, for tomorrow we may die."

He was trying—and failing—to look stern. Percy kept his eyes level with Audrey's, challenge sparkling in them as he took the bottle and yanked out the cork. He took a long draught. Watching expectantly, Audrey drew her bottom lip between her teeth.

Percy gasped, his face scrunched in disgust. "Merlin's pants, that tastes like shite!"

"It's fruity, girl wine," Audrey giggled. "Fleur won't touch the stuff, it offends her delicate, French palate."

"As well it should." He took another swig.

"Hey! Don't hog it all!"

Audrey grabbed the bottle back and took her own drink. Percy set several sound dampening charms around the room. She liked that he thought ahead like that. Left to her own devices, she probably would have giggled loudly until her mother came to scold her.

After a few more drinks, they were sitting cross-legged on her bed facing each other. Audrey was feeling very loose and a bit dizzy. Her brothers called her a lightweight. Percy, however, looked very serious.

"You have freckles," he said gravely.

"So do you," she giggled.

He looked at his hand for a moment, it was positively covered in coppery spots. "Well, yes, of course. Liberally littered with them, I am."

She giggled again, "Alliteration."

"You have freckles right here," Percy repeated, touching her nose with his fore finger. Audrey nearly went cross-eyed following his finger, but he didn't seem to notice. He was too intent on studying her face.

"And here," he added, his finger brushing along her cheek. "You have thirty-six little freckles."

"You must be seeing triple," she scoffed. "There are only twelve."

"Nuh-uh," he argued. "There are thirty-six. I will count."

Audrey waved his hand away like shooing a fly. "Only if I can count yours."

Percy looked dumfounded, which made Audrey giggle some more.

"That would take all night," he said.

She took another drink from the bottle, frowning at how empty it was. Oh well, she was pleasantly inebriated and so was Percy. Oh, Percy! She'd nearly forgot about Percy. He was a terribly serious drunk, but he was stripped down to his undershirt and his hair was mussed. His glasses were askew, too. So, she surmised, he was also an adorable drunk.

Percy was looking at his hand again, his brow creased. "We would need a system," he was saying. "We could divide my skin into fields." He was pointing his wand at his chest. "Then we could count and tally each field. We'll need parchment and a quill. The self-inking kind if you have it."

"Percy!" Audrey grabbed his wand before he accidently hexed himself. "I do not need a system."

He was blinking at her like an owl. "Oh? How would you keep track?"

"I would start with your arse and see how far I got," she replied saucily, but ruined the effect by giggling.

Percy looked dumbfounded again. Then he snorted. The next moment, he was laughing outright. He plucked the bottle out of her hands, finished off the contents and threw himself across her bed, the empty bottle tucked into his armpit.

"This is the most fun I've had in a long time," he slurred. "You're cute—I mean fun. You're fun and cute."

"Cute?" Audrey screeched. "A pygmy puff is cute."

He lifted his head to look at her, blinking like an owl again. "Isn't 'cute' a compliment?"

"If you're six!"

He flopped back down. "Oh. You're pretty then."

"That was a rather lazy compliment, if you ask me," Audrey snorted.

Percy propped himself up on his elbows, regarding her seriously again. "Okay," he said slowly, "how's this? I think you are completely mental, but I like the way you smile when you flirt with me. I want to kiss you, but I'm not going to do it tonight."

Leaving Audrey slack jawed, Percy Vanished the bottle and leaned back with his arms crossed behind his head.

Desire tingled in Audrey's breasts and thighs. He was bold and smug and she didn't know which turned her on more. She growled with frustration, reduced to crawling across her rather virginal, childhood bed to loom over him with a stupid expression on her face.

Percy, damn him, was smirking up at her. He had brown eyes, she noted. How had she missed that?

"Why not?" she demanded. Well, great. She sounded like an idiot in front of Mr. Super Swot himself.

"Because you want me to," he replied as if this were perfectly obvious. "And you are used to getting what you want so I am going to make you wait."

Her mouth was moving. She could feel it moving. Yet, no noise was coming out. To his credit, Percy didn't laugh at her. Well, maybe his eyes were laughing.

"You are the baby of the family," he patiently explained. "You are a spoiled brat used to being doted on by everybody, I would guess."

Anger flashed in Audrey's eyes. Presumptuous git. How dare he?

"You don't even know me," she accused.

"I heard how you handled your mum. How you tried to get your brother in trouble to get yourself out. Ginny couldn't have done better."

"I am not your sister."

Percy was staring at her chest. "You'll hear no argument from me there."

Audrey slapped his shoulder. "I didn't mean like that!"

He raised his hands to defend himself. "Merlin, you are like Ginny."

She sat back on her haunches. "You are a git, and you know nothing! I'll have you know that four is a very powerful magical number in the Sprayberry family. All the sons who bear the name have four children. Typically, these children come in nice, neat two year intervals. Well, I have two older sisters and two older brothers, born roughly within six years of one another.

"Family rumor is that Mother and Daddy had an unseemly affection for one another. Even more scandalous, they lacked self-control and the proper knowledge of contraceptive spells. Then comes along me. The unheard of and unwanted fifth child, proof that the rumors are true."

"Hmph," Percy scoffed. "My parents have no sense of restraint whatsoever, and it took seven children for them to master the contraceptive spell. I don't see how your story is remarkable."

Audrey folded her arms defiantly and resisted the urge to poke him. "My mother doesn't know what to do with me, as you have no doubt heard. Daddy can't be bothered to leave the library. I have been rebelling my whole life."

That was overstating it. It was hard to rebel when nobody remembered where they had misplaced her.

"Codswallop," Percy said.

Audrey gaped at him like a fish. "Excuse me?"

"You rebel because you have something to rebel against, because your parents love you. Spoiled brat that you are."

"You're a fine one to talk, Percy Weasley." She propped her hands on her hips. "Who infamously defected from the Weasleys?"

Percy's expression faltered. "Not because I'm a spoiled brat," he replied, trying for the same jaunty tone as before, but failing.

Audrey pursed her lips. She wished she could bite back her words. Flopping onto the bed beside Percy, her head was close to his and their shoulders brushed. He'd opened the door, she reasoned, but she was sorry to have gone through it.

All the same, she had broken the light, effortless enchantment that had surrounded them, and she didn't know how to recast it.

Well, in for a Sickle, in for a Knut.

"Just stubborn and wrong then?" she said with less venom than before.

There was a long silence from her companion. Audrey didn't think Percy would say anything more. They were treading dangerously close to personal matters.

"I should have gone back…well, immediately," Percy admitted in a quiet voice. "But I am stubborn and…and I wanted to prove that I deserved that job despite the reasons I got it."

Audrey was surprised that he'd said anything at all, but if he was willing to speak of it, then she was more than willing to listen.

"When did you know you were wrong about Fudge and your family and all that?"

"The minute I walked out the door," he confessed.

She looked at him in surprise. "Then why didn't you go back? Make amends?"

"Pride, anger, stubbornness," he rattled off. "Take your pick. I've committed all of those sins."

"For two years?" she demanded incredulously.

There was a pensive, distant look on Percy's face. There was regret in his eyes, but that was to be expected. Yet, there was some other emotion as well. A deep sadness maybe, or grief even.

"I don't deserve to go back," he said, his voice harsh with anguish.

Audrey turned on her side to better see him. The look on his face was desolate, his eyes dry but bereft. Lightly, she touched his shoulder.

"Percy," she whispered, "they love you. They would welcome you back."

"The ability to return is not the same as deserving to," he replied bleakly. "Not after all my mistakes, all my arrogance. If I'd listened, if I'd been smarter or braver, maybe things would be different. I lost my family."

"They aren't lost to you," Audrey soothed. "They are at the Burrow, where they've always been."

"What?" He blinked at her, brow furrowed as if he couldn't understand her words. "Oh. That. Well, that isn't all that cut and dried, is it?"

Pulling off his glasses, Percy rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. "Why am I telling you all this? I must be drunker than I thought."

"You were right," Audrey blurted out. "I am a spoiled brat."

He lowered his hands to look at her.

"I'm a lot younger than my sisters," she explained. "Before they left for school they treated me like a real life doll. My brothers…well, they're annoying mostly, but in a nice way. They look after me in their own fashion."

Percy snorted. "I think I know something of brothers, yes."

"But they were all gone off to Hogwarts, and I was in the nursery," she continued, looking down. "My parents, well, I'm not what they want me to be, but—"

The mattress shifted. Audrey looked up to find Percy on his side, facing her.

"But what?" he prompted softly.

"They aren't what I want them to be either."

He tucked her hair behind her ear. He was much more tactile than she had expected. Audrey had seen this type of physical affection between Bill and Fleur, but she attributed it to Fleur's Frenchness. Audrey had expected Percy to be much more reserved. She was glad he wasn't.

"How so?" he asked.

Audrey balled her fists in frustration. "They believe in propriety and manners and good grades."

"What's wrong with that?" Percy asked with a self-deprecating smile.

"They are completely apathetic!" she exclaimed. "They would be content to sit by and watch the world burn."

"But not you?"

"I've never been able to turn away from suffering. It's like a calling. I want to fix it, make it better, do my part. I wanted to be a Healer when I was little."

"Why aren't you?" Percy asked.

Audrey blushed. "I-ah-found that I am not well suited for the occupation."

"Why not? You're brilliant."

"I faint," she mumbled.

"Excuse me?" He leaned in closer to hear her better.

He was so near now she really could count his freckles. Or kiss him.

"Did you say that you faint?" he asked, a smile playing around his mouth. "If you see blood?"

"Or a particularly nasty hex or a broken bone or anything ghastly."

Percy frowned. "So, the first time you saw Bill after…."

Audrey's face was so hot she was surprised the blankets didn't catch on fire. "Well, Fleur tried to prepare me, she knows how I am."

"You fainted anyway?" Percy asked incredulously, but after a moment, he started laughing so hard that he was clutching his stomach with the effort.

"It's not funny," Audrey fumed, giving his shoulder a shove. "Fleur nearly killed me."

Percy was wiping his eyes with his thumb. "And Bill?"

"Well, he thought it was funny," she admitted. "Took the mickey for two weeks, the git."

They lapsed into silence, but a general sense of mirth hung over them. Percy was on his back, hand on his chest, looking at the ceiling. Audrey, curled in a ball beside him, started to drift off to sleep.

"I am too drunk to safely Apparate home," he said quietly up to the ceiling.

"Me, too," Audrey mumbled.

oOo

The sun was barely up over Shell Cottage as Bill watched Percy and Audrey trudge across the sand from the Apparition Point. He sipped his tea, wondering how those two had managed to Apparate in at the same time. He could hear Fleur inside the kitchen going over some last minute tasks.

"I have just set zee seeds in my fall garden," Fleur said as she bustled out of the Cottage, "you will make sure zey are watered every day, s'il te plait?"

"Of course," Bill replied, suppressing a laugh. It amused him to see the beautiful Fleur Delacour Weasley worry over such wifely things.

"D'accord," she sighed, her eyes rolling up as if she were looking for the next stray thought to worry after. "And what will you do for supper?"

Bill did laugh this time. "I have lived on my own since I was eighteen, I know how to take care of myself."

She made a face. "Well, who will bandage your arm?"

Hm, that was a fair point. For all his talents, Bill could not seem to bandage his own arm. Fleur had been doing it for him since he was released from the Hogwarts Hospital Wing.

"I'll wrangle Percy into helping me out," he said matter-of-factly.

Fleur gave him a skeptical look. Bill had kept the extent of his injuries private from him family, but now he was planning to ask his most perceptive brother for help. What Fleur didn't know about Percy was one word from Bill and Percy would drop it. Besides, Bill knew some of Percy's more painful secrets, he supposed this would make them even.

Speaking of which, there was his little brother striding up the path now. Bill did a double take at his normally fastidious brother. Percy's curly hair was a bit riotous, as it only was first thing in the morning. There were purple shadows under his eyes, as if he hadn't much sleep. And he looked as if—

"Aren't those the robes you were wearing last night?" Bill demanded incredulously.

Percy's expression was carefully blank, but no Weasley could ever get away with that. The blush always gave them away, just as it was doing with Percy now. Bill's eyes slid to the girl standing next to his brother. For her part, Audrey looked tired, but put together. In fact, she looked more put together than she normally did. She smiled innocently at Bill, a smile he knew meant she was up to no good.

"So," Percy said, clearing his throat, "creating a Portkey is not so hard once you have the hang of it. Did you know that the coordinates we use to set the location are actually Muggle longitude and latitude coordinates?"

Audrey looked at him beatifically. "Interesting, that. A little poke in the eye for all the purebloods."

"Precisely," Percy responded pompously, as if the two of them were not, in fact, purebloods.

They both looked at Bill with wide eyes. Folding his arms over his chest, Bill rolled his own eyes. What was the world coming to when Percy was the brother giving him trouble? He turned to Fleur, who was watching the exchange with an amused, if slightly baffled expression.

"You ready, love?" he asked, sliding an arm around her waist.

"Oui," she said with a puff of breath.

"Let's go down to the beach, I'll walk you through the spell," Percy said to Audrey, taking her hand and leading her away.

Well, the world hadn't turned completely on its head. Percy still had a keen sense of discretion, he knew when to make himself scarce.

Fleur looped her arms around Bill's neck, clinging to him.

"Dream of me tonight, love," he murmured, holding her tight.

"I will be home before you know it," she said, smiling bravely. "Je t'aime."

He kissed her for long moments, until finally they had no choice but to join Percy and Audrey on the beach. It was a quick business to set the Portkey, then the two witches spun away. The brothers were left staring at the now empty spot of sand as the sun climbed the sky.

"So," Bill said, not looking at Percy, "you and Audrey?"

"Colleagues now, I suppose?" Percy said, acting more obtuse than he was. "Is that what you call someone who is involved in a clandestine operation to subvert a corrupt government with you?"

Chapter 5

Notes:

WARNING: Proceed with caution. This chapter explores the darker side of being a Veela. It contains mentions of sexual assault. While the scene is not particularly graphic, the emotions are harsh and the language blunt.

The whirling sensation ended abruptly, spitting Audrey out of its vortex to land painfully on her knees. She pitched forward and rolled across pebbly sand that scraped her arms and face. Then she felt a piercing pain as a broken bottle gashed her arm. For a moment she laid on her back, looking up at the warm, bright, French sun. She sucked in her lips in an effort to control the pain that was bursting in her arm.

"Audrey!"

Audrey chanced a look at Fleur, several yards away. Her friend was running lightly across the sand. For one hysterical moment, Audrey wondered if she'd taken her ballet lessons more seriously (as her mother had wanted her to) then she wouldn't be lying in the sand bleeding. With one dirty, stinging hand she pushed her hair off her face and sat up.

"I'm alright," she called.

Fleur knelt in the sand beside her. "You are bleeding."

Audrey glanced at her arm and immediately wished she hadn't. Quickly, she adverted her eyes, feeling queasy. She felt Fleur 's cool, deft fingers running over her arm. Audrey knew a moment of jealousy as her friend competently healed her injuries and siphoned away the blood and dirt. Audrey wished she had Fleur's calm, no-nonsense manner in moments like this.

"All better," Fleur said. "What expression would I use?"

Audrey looked at her healed arm and smiled. "Good as new."

Fleur nodded. "Come along, I will Apparate us to the chateau."

The two women linked hands, and the next thing Audrey knew, she was standing in a grassy glen dotted with softly swaying wild flowers. She could see a copse of trees in one direction and a well-worn path that led up a slight rise in the other. She'd visited Fleur's home once before, just after the Triwizard Tournament, but she didn't remember this rather idyllic spot.

Fleur muttered something in French. Her eyes were darting around the glen nervously.

"What's wrong?" Audrey asked.

Fleur startled, then looked at Audrey with a sheepish smile. "Nothing. Zee house is ahead zis way."

Without another word, Fleur started up the path over the rise. It wasn't long before Audrey began to see things she recognized. Mrs. Delacour's greenhouse winked in the sun. The manicured gardens spread up to the house where graceful French doors led from the stone terrace into the main house. Tucked into a corner was the kitchen garden, bursting with its own elegance, a modest turquoise door opening into a vast and well-appointed kitchen.

A scream erupted from the terrace. Then there was a blur of silver and blood red. Gabrielle Delacour launched herself at her older sister with squealing chatter. In quick succession, Fleur replied in French. Audrey spoke French fluently (she had paid attention to those lessons, much to her mother's pleasure), but not well enough to follow the rapid speech of the two sisters.

"Hullo, little sister," Audrey said and tugged on Gabrielle's long plait.

"Salut, Audrey!" the little girl beamed.

"She tells me," Fleur said in French, arms still around Gabrielle, "that she is now in love with Viktor Krum and will only wear red because he is so handsome in red. And she has begged Maman for a broomstick because she wants to become a Seeker."

Well, Audrey could hardly fault Gabrielle for her latest object of hero worship. Besides the fact that Viktor rescued Gabrielle from the Death Eaters at the wedding, he was quite dashing in red—to say nothing of his blunt, harsh handsomeness. Audrey had known Viktor a bit during the Triwizard Tournament, as they were both friends with Fleur. Audrey had to admit she would have preferred to go to the Yule Ball with Viktor than the Frenchman that Fleur had set her up with.

"But what are you doing here?" Gabrielle demanded.

"Oui," came the cultured voice of Apolline Delacour. "I would very much like to know the answer to that question, as well. Where is Bill?"

There was a hint of worry in the older woman's voice. Fleur reacted immediately, rushing up to her mother and embracing her. Apolline clung slightly to her eldest daughter before allowing her to pull away.

"Bill is fine, he is at home," Fleur assured her. "But Audrey and I are traveling on very serious business. Business related to the war. When will Papa be home? We need to speak to you both."

After much bickering and pouting, Gabrielle was sent to her room just in time for Marius Delacour to return from the fields where he was touring that year's crops. Marius was a round, jovial man with a florid face. He always made such a fuss over Fleur, but now his hugs and kisses were tinged with concern.

"Has news of the Muggle-born Registration Commission come to France?" Fleur asked over luncheon.

"Disgusting!" spat Apolline.

"What do they mean to do about the Muggle-borns?" Marius asked more temperately.

"We have reliable sources inside the Ministry," Fleur said, "who have led us to believe that the Muggle-borns will be imprisoned in Azkaban."

There was a flourish of French that Audrey couldn't follow, but she judged the tone to be that of outrage. When the outburst died down, the Delacours listened as their daughter explained her dangerous plan, and when finally she asked for their help, they agreed without hesitation. Apolline wrung her hands over the danger, stopping just short of asking Fleur to come home and be safe. Marius, meanwhile, was pragmatically making fund raising plans for the Order of Mercy.

Audrey couldn't imagine that her parents would be so willing to offer help, and they were British wizards. Daddy's friend, Dirk Cresswell, had been missing for weeks already. But, Audrey supposed, that was the difference between a Ravenclaw and a Gryffindor. Why men as intelligent as Bill and Percy, who thrived as much as any Ravenclaw on the pursuit of knowledge, were Gryffindors. In the end, the Weasley men were not willing to look away while the world came crashing down. Audrey's brothers, on the other hand, would not dirty their hands if they didn't have to.

That is why Audrey had always thought Fleur would have been a Gryffindor. Others might see the cool beauty or the keen mind, but Audrey saw the fiery heart of her friend. Fleur was a match to Bill in many ways, but that one might be the most important.

oOo

One of the benefits of being a good and thorough bootlicker, was that no one in the office questioned Percy when he said he needed to work late. Most of them simply rolled their eyes and muttered something about "Weasley" and "arse-kisser." Mrs. Topple, the secretary to the Minister since before Fudge, always gave him a motherly look, however. Some days she ruffled his hair and admonished him for working too hard.

Regardless, this gave Percy the perfect cover. As Ministry officials and, indeed, the Minister himself, filed out for the day, no one batted an eye at the bespectacled ginger still hunched over his desk. Percy bided his time at his desk until he was sure only the janitorial staff would be about. Then he silently Disillusioned himself, setting a cushioning charm on his shoes for good measure.

He moved into the corridor, which was cast in shadows with only a few lamps lit. It was quite the trek from the Minister's office to Umbridge's little kingdom. That was how Percy had come to think of it. On the top floor of the Ministry, Umbridge had created for herself a place to reign terror on the world and her work staff. She had an immense and grotesquely pink office, outside the lacquered door were dozens of desks. Sat at the desks, day after day, were confused and frightened witches and wizards, many of them half-bloods because, well weren't most witches and wizards these days? Yet they turned out the foulest propaganda. Hundreds of parchments proclaiming the superiority of magical blood, denouncing Muggle-borns as thieves, and proclaiming Harry Potter as Undesirable No. 1.

Umbridge's court was dark now as Percy moved through the desks. At the door, he paused to listen. There were no sounds coming from the other side, and no light emitted from under the door. Umbridge was a precise woman. No matter how many people she had to persecute in a day, she always left at five on the dot. Satisfied that the office was empty, Percy unlocked the door and crept in, closing it behind him.

With his lit wand, he sorted through the files on her desk. These were the Muggle-borns who would receive their invitations next. Percy made duplicates of each file, shrunk it, and carefully slid it into the inner, hidden pocket of his robes. He'd fashioned the pocket himself, thankful that his mother had taught him the basics of sewing as a boy. She'd wanted to prepare her sons to be independent young men with the fundamental skills they would need in the real world. Not all of his brothers had been receptive to this particular lesson, but Percy had been.

Percy came to a file that made him stop. He looked at a familiar face and cursed.

oOo

Little Fleur sat in the tall grasses that bordered her home watching two rabbits frolic nearby. The small animals were never afraid of her, but they would not allow her to touch them. Maman said they could sense Fleur's Veela magic, and that is why they would sometimes sit right beside her in the garden or in the field if Fleur was very still. So, Fleur practiced being very still, hoping that one day one of the animals would allow her to pet them.

Beyond was the field where Papa's sheep grazed placidly, behind her some yards was the chateau with its beautiful gardens, and ahead was the thicket of trees that separated her family's land from the neighboring Wizards. This quiet place was one of Fleur's favorites. Here, she could feel her Veela magic thrumming in her veins. It was the magic of nature, that was what her maman called it. Fleur hoped to bring her baby sister to this spot soon, Gabrielle would like to see the rabbits play.

A rustling sound startled the rabbits, and they bolted in the direction of the fields. Fleur looked around, trying to see what had scared the animals. Maybe Papa was coming from the fields? But it was too soon for lunch. The crunching of leaves under heavy boots drew Fleur's attention to the thicket.

A hunched, slender silhouette was materializing from the foliage. Some strange feeling crept down her spine, making her shiver. It reminded her of the startled rabbits. Quietly, she gripped her skirts and made to stand. Then the figure came into view. It was Alain Barre from next door, and he was carrying a basket. His maman must have sent him on an errand to the Delacours.

"Salut, Alain!" Fleur called, pushing to her knees and waving.

His bright eyes settled on her, and he smiled. He looked very grown up since he left for Beauxbatons last fall. He was fifteen now, Fleur thought, with sharp features. He was not handsome, but maybe someday.

"Bonjour," Alain said.

Alain walked over to her, dropping to one knee before Fleur. His eyes were dark, and always quietly inquisitive. They skimmed over Fleur's features, losing their luster. His jaw became stupid and wobbly, his brow lost all of its intelligence. It was like he put on an ugly mask full of emotions that Fleur did not understand. That feeling came back to her and she understood it this time: fear. But what was there to fear? It was just Alain. Just the boy from next door.

His hand shot out, capturing a hank of Fleur's silvery hair where it draped over her shoulder.

"Pretty," Alain muttered. "Pretty, little Fleur."

Fleur grabbed the basket from his hand. It was full of cuttings from the garden to make into potions. Alain's maman was not good at potion making, not like Fleur's. "I will take this up to the house," Fleur said hurriedly. "You do not need to bother."

"I kissed a girl at school," he said, he licked his lips. "But she was not as pretty as you, little Fleur."

"I must go to the house now," she said and pulled her hair out of his grasp. "Papa will wonder where I am."

Alain gripped her shoulders in his bony hands. Fleur froze in shock, but only for an instant. She tried to pull out of his grasp, but his fingers dug into her muscles.

"Alain, let go of me," she cried, wishing she was not on her knees. If she were standing, at least she could kick him. As it was, she was hitting at his chest and nothing was happening. "What are you doing?"

"I could kiss you," he said. "Would it be your first kiss, little Fleur?"

Fleur found herself pushed into the grass, its scratchy points rubbing against her arms and neck. Alain's bigger body was on top of hers, its weight unwieldy and suffocating. She struggled under him, but he still clutched her arms and her legs were pinned under his. He was murmuring "sweet Fleur" over and over again, his breath washing over her cheek as his face pressed nearer hers. Fleur turned away from him, feeling the grass scratch across her cheek.

There was a burst of light and a rush of air….

Fleur sat straight up in her bed in her parents' home, trembling and gasping for air. Just a dream…just a dream…just a….

Memory.

She'd been ten at the time. Before Alain could kiss her, she'd had a burst of accidental magic. It was never clear if it had been her Veela magic or her witch's magic. But when she'd stood on her shaky, young legs, Alain had lain at her feet unconscious. He would remain that way for a week, and when finally he awoke, he was never the same.

Fleur hugged her knees to her chest as she remembered when Monsieur and Madame Barre came to their home. Papa and Maman had taken special care to keep Fleur near to home after the incident. After the initial shock of finding the unconscious Alain, they had been incensed by his behavior. But there were moments, too, when they looked at Fleur like a cauldron ready to explode.

Fleur had hidden in the broom cupboard when her parents met with Alain's distraught maman and puffed-up papa.

"What did that little hussy do to our boy?" demanded Madame Barre shrilly.

Maman swelled with indignation. "My daughter defended herself from your rapist."

Fleur felt a shiver snake down her spine at the word. She did not fully understand it, but she understood the fear and anger in her mother's voice.

"Apolline," Papa admonished quietly, putting a restraining hand on his wife's arm.

"She seduced him!" Madame Barre screeched.

Papa's face turned a florid shade of purple. "She is ten-years-old, Yvette," he said in hard, precise words.

"She is a Veela," Monsieur Barre said, his voice chilly and his eyes fixed on Maman. "It is what they do, is it not? Seduce men into foolishness?"

Maman flinched and folded her arms over her chest.

"That does not change the fact that she is a little girl and your son attacked her," Papa bit off, stepping in front of Maman. "And I will thank you to remove your eyes from my wife, just as I will thank you to keep that lecher of a son of yours locked up."

"It is your little slut who should be locked up," Madame Barre retorted with an accusing finger. "She enticed my son and now…he is addled. Feeble minded!"

There was silence in the room as this information settled over it. In the cupboard, Fleur pressed her fist against her mouth to keep from crying out. What Madame Barre said…had she, Fleur, did she leave Alain…damaged? She did not mean to! She did not mean to make Alain stupid, and she did not mean to hurt him. Maman said that to be a Veela was to be a part of nature, but was there another part, a darker part? Was it like Monsieur Barre said, could she seduce men? But she did not mean to!

"Maybe he will not go about attacking little girls now," Maman hissed.

There was an eruption of indignant voices. Fleur could no longer make out words, but only the tone of outrage and fury. Fleur covered her ears to block out the sound, but she could still feel a sickening wave of emotion twisting her stomach. She crouched down on the floor and pressed her face into her knees, feeling hot tears itch her cheeks.

After that day, Maman had tried to teach Fleur to harness her Veela magic. They would retreat to Maman's steamy, fragrant greenhouse full of tropical plants and citrus trees to work for hours. But Fleur could not even make a seed sprout. The effort left her weak, often feverish for days.

Finally, Maman admitted defeat, afraid of jeopardizing Fleur's health. It was then that they presented her with a wand. Made especially for Fleur upon her birth, with a strand of her grandmother's hair at it's core. Delicately carved from rosewood and just nine and a half inches long. That horrible man in England had called it inflexible, but on the eve of the Tri Wizard Tournament, Fleur had not felt inflexible in any way. The first time Fleur held her wand, she'd felt a shock of magic shoot up her arm. It was different than Veela magic, more electric, more powerful.

And so, her training as a witch began, six whole months before she would leave for school. Papa taught her defensive spells, and Fleur excelled. By the time Fleur entered Beauxbatons, she was at a fourth year level in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Maybe she could not keep boys from turning stupid under the sway of her Veela magic, but she could defend herself against unwanted advances.

And if the girls acted coldly toward her? Well, she learned defenses against that as well.

In the darkness of her childhood home, Fleur climbed out of bed. She crossed to the bureau where she had placed her valise and lit the lamp with her wand. There was no time to unpack, she and Audrey would be moving on to her cousins in Belgium tomorrow. Fleur retrieved the charmed Muggle notebook from the inner pocket of her bag. She had given Bill his own notebook before she left. He was probably abed, but maybe not.

She flipped the cover over and found a message waiting for her. She smiled at the neat, small writing. He did not make the looping, elegant cursive letters as she did. He used all capitals, never lower case, he simply made the first letter larger to indicate the start of a sentence or a proper noun. It was so tidy, his handwriting, crisp and practical.

Goodnight love,

I wish you sweet dreams. But if they aren't, I hope you know that I'm thinking of you.

Yours—

Fleur traced his words with the tip of her finger. The nightmares did not come often anymore, and Fleur did not know what brought them on, but they only visited her in her childhood home. Bill knew, he was the only one, for Fleur was very careful to hide the nightmares from her parents. But there was no hiding from Bill, there never was. Before they had become engaged, Bill had insisted on traveling to her home to meet her parents, even though it meant he must leave his duty with the Order. Fleur had not known it at the time, but Bill was on another mission of honor: to obtain her father's permission to marry her. Silly man.

The first night in her parents' home, with Bill next door, the dream came. It was particularly vivid that night, taking her back to her ten-year-old self almost as if she were reliving it. He heard her calling out and of course, her Bill had come to rescue her. It was then that she had told him the whole story. She'd surprised herself that night by breaking down in tears. She had not cried over Alain since she was a girl.

Taking out her Muggle ink pin, Fleur wrote a quick note in return, thankful that the small notebook did not allow for much detail.

I should hope you are thinking of me. It has been less than a month since we wed. We will have much lost time to make up for when I return.

Goodnight. I love you.

oOo

When Percy returned home the next night, he found Oliver waiting for him. A quick glance at his friend told Percy that Oliver was anxious, it was in every muscle of his body. From the crossed arms, to the taught set of his jaw, to the wide-legged stance. Percy hurried to him, waving his wand at the door and pushing his friend through. The ginger barely made it into the flat himself before resetting the wards and adding some strong privacy charms.

"Are you being chased, mate?" Oliver asked without a trace of humor.

"Aren't we all?" Percy responded. "Oliver, I am glad—"

"Catriona got her letter from that blasted Commission today," Oliver said without ceremony.

A flash of outrage—blinding and searing—shot through Percy. It was coupled with a sense of failure. Every day, watching scared Muggle-borns walk into the Ministry and never leave, left Percy sick of heart. But he'd hoped to spare Oliver and his grief-stricken family this shock. Percy supposed he'd underestimated Umbridge's efficiency in spreading her personal brand of benign terror.

Percy slammed his briefcase on the table. "Shite!"

Oliver didn't even flinch. His hands were shoved in his pockets, and he was looking at Percy with fathomless, dark eyes. Catriona was as close to a sister as Oliver had ever known. She'd been with Oliver's older brother, Dougal, since the two were fourteen—longer than Oliver's youngest brother had even been alive. Percy could remember how sixteen-year-old Catriona would dote after Oliver, and by extension himself, when they'd first arrived at Hogwarts. In these last months since Dougal had died, their bond had strengthened. Oliver was now as likely to take care of Catriona as the other way around.

That said nothing of Catriona's infant son, Campbell, Oliver's godson. He'd been fond of the baby from the start, but Percy knew from casual conversation that Oliver was increasingly involved in the care of the boy. It was more than duty for Oliver, he loved that boy.

Percy could only imagine the blow this must have been to the Wood family. It had only been in recent weeks that he'd noticed anything approaching normality. The loss of two sons in a single night had been a blow that had bowed the close-knit family. Percy had been afraid—as he watched Roberta Wood turn into a ghost of her former self—that they may never recover. And now this.

"That was quick," Percy muttered, standing very straight and staring at the wall. "I only just saw her folder in Umbridge's office."

"You knew about this?" Oliver demanded.

Percy could hear the anger in Oliver's voice and knew it wasn't directed at him. Oliver was simply pulled in too many directions. His family needed him to be strong, but his own grief was almost unbearably heavy and yet life went on. Quidditch was calling him back, and there was the budding romance with Katie Bell. Oliver had waited a long time for her, more than three years to be exact. And now, in the midst of the war, he finally had these rare moments of happiness with her. And Katie was Muggle-born, it was only a matter of time….

Percy looked at Oliver. "I think I have an answer to many of our problems."

"I'm listening," Oliver said, edging closer.

"I-ah-have been doing a bit of espionage," Percy admitted, pushing his glasses up. "I used my clearance to gather up all the information I could on the Muggle-born Registration Commission and took it to Bill."

When he looked at Oliver, it was to see something akin to pride in his friend's eyes. Percy blushed, shrinking away from the emotion that he knew Oliver wouldn't put voice to. Oliver was maybe one of two people to never lose faith in him. Percy couldn't understand why, he'd certainly let Oliver down and when it mattered most, too. Just as he'd let down his mother over and over. He couldn't understand why they hadn't given him up as a bad job by now.

"Wow! Percy, I—" Oliver dragged a hand down his face. "Good on you, mate."

Percy nodded, he could feel the infamous Weasley blush creeping up his neck. "Bill took the information to the Order, but he was not the only one to put plans into motion regarding the intel. My sister-in-law, Fleur, and her little friend are planning a network to smuggle Muggle-borns out of England and into Europe."

He tried to ignore the ridiculous little flutter in his heart when he thought of Audrey. It was ridiculous to feel like smiling just because he thought about her, especially now when so much was on the line. Percy pushed those thoughts aside and schooled his mind to the topic at hand.

Oliver whistled. "Bill's got himself a real Gryffindor, doesn't he?"

Percy smiled. "With the brains of a Ravenclaw."

"Is this for real?"

"Fleur and her friend—Audrey—left for the Continent yesterday morning to set up the check points on that end. It will begin in France with Fleur's parents and end in Romania with Charlie."

"And you are going to be the man on the inside?" Oliver asked, folding his arms over his chest. He was giving Percy an assessing look.

Percy nodded, putting aside any maudlin thoughts. "We need some more witches and wizards to help move the Muggle-borns to safe houses and then onto the coast to Portkey to France."

This was the last piece of business: bringing Oliver on. Percy didn't need to say the words for Oliver to understand, nor did Oliver need to make a reply to signal his agreement. All it took was one look to pass between them. The two of them had always understood each other. For two men who had scads of brothers, they had found the brother in each other that they had always been missing.

Oliver put his hands on his hips and said, "Catriona is the first one out. Katie, too."

Percy didn't miss the emotion in his friend's voice. Damn this war. Damn Umbridge and her gleeful enactment of what she referred to as MoM Special Resolution No. 852-N.

"I'll make it happen as soon as Fleur and Audrey return," Percy said briskly, pushing his glasses up. As an afterthought, he added, "We'll need to recruit a few more people. They must be trustworthy and discreet."

"Angelina and Alicia," Oliver said immediately.

Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet, two of Oliver's old teammates. Alicia had been a prefect, and Percy knew her somewhat. She'd been like Bill—flexible, fair, and willing to bend the rules if it got better results. Regardless, if Oliver trusted them, that was all Percy needed to know.

"Two of the bravest witches you'll ever meet," Oliver continued, "and they can keep a secret. So what are you calling this?"

"Fleur calls it the Order of Mercy."

Percy took a moment to savor the words on his lips. They sounded like Sunday mornings at the Burrow when the only person up was his mum in the kitchen preparing breakfast for her family. He looked at Oliver and could see that his friend was equally affected.

"There's one more thing," Percy said, clearing his throat. If he couldn't soften the blow of Catriona being called before the Commission, at least he could warn Oliver about this rather unpleasant turn of events. "Snape has been installed as Headmaster of Hogwarts. It'll be in the paper soon."

"Shite!" Oliver said, slamming one fist into the other hand. Alex Wood would be a second year come this fall, Oliver's last brother.

"Quite," Percy answered dryly. He put a hand on Oliver's shoulder soothingly, his voice losing any humor when he added, "Ginny will be at Hogwarts too; attendance is compulsory."

oOo

Grilled cheese and tomato soup. Bill sighed as he looked at his dinner. He could do better than this, but he'd lost the desire to cook for one. He sat at the butcher's block, rather than the table, and pulled the little spiral notebook from his shirt pocket. He flipped it open to see a new message:

Bill,

It went well in Bulgaria. Better than expected. We arrived in Romania an hour ago, our last destination. Tomorrow we will travel home at last.

Love—

Bill smiled at the familiar, looping script. They had not been parted for this long since that first Christmas the year they started dating. Fleur had returned home for a fortnight, but it felt like an eternity. That was also the year his dad had been attacked by You-Know-Who's bloody snake and nearly died. When Bill had finally returned to his flat from hospital, assured of his father's survival, his first thought had been of Fleur, that he wished she was there with him. Just there. To hold his hand and tell him it would be alright. It was then that he knew—really knew—that what he had with Fleur was something special.

A tap at the back door brought Bill out of his reverie. He pulled his wand from his pocket, cursing himself for his moment's distraction. Carefully rounding the butcher's block, he edged towards the door, pulling back the curtains to reveal a glimpse of ginger and glasses.

He felt fairly confident that his visitor was, indeed, one Percy Weasley, but now was not the time for lax security. No reason Bill couldn't have a spot of fun with it.

Pointing his wand at the door, Bill barked, "State your name!"

"Percy Weasley."

"What prank did the twins play on you the summer I was home for the Quidditch World Cup?"

There was a moment of silence, then, "Bill, just let me in."

"How can I be sure it's you?"

There was a long, weary sigh before Percy answered in monotone, "They strung all my pants across the clothes line and charmed them to sing, 'Percy loves fat bottoms,' every time a female walked by. Including Mum and Hermione."

Bill dissolved into laughter and opened the door with a flick of his wand.

A red-faced Percy pushed into the house. "You are a git."

"And you are too easy," Bill replied, wiping tears from his eyes.

"If you are quite through, I have quite serious business to discuss with you."

"Relax, Perce, I'm just taking the mickey."

Percy's shoulders slumped. "I-I know."

Bill resumed his seat. "Have you had dinner?"

Percy shook his head. "No. That's okay, I-I—"

"Eat with me," Bill insisted. "I'm tired of dining alone."

Percy looked at the soup and sandwich longingly. With much more longing than the simple meal warranted. Hesitantly, he set his brief case on the table and sat on the stool opposite Bill. The older brother pushed the plate in front of Percy, then went about making another for himself.

"How are Mum and Dad?" Percy asked in little more than a mumble. He was busy studying the sandwich in his hand.

"They are holding up as well as can be expected," Bill answered. He brought a plate over to the butcher's block and sat down.

"When I saw them…after the Battle of the Astronomy Tower, they looked…old."

Bill clutched his spoon tightly to keep from rubbing his hand over his face. That would only result in the irritation of his scars. He had resigned himself to the fact that he could not fix things for Percy years ago. Bill had tried, he'd been on Percy's doorstep as quickly as possible after the row with Dad, offering to act as go-between, but Percy had flatly denied the offer.

But Bill knew that more was eating at Percy than just hurt pride and stubbornness. Though, like the true Weasley he was, Percy had those in spades. If it had been that simple, Bill could have fixed that. The guilt over things that were out of Percy's control? The undeserved shame? Things that Percy couldn't bring himself to speak of? Those were things that were beyond Bill's ability to mend.

"It's the war, Perce," Bill finally said in a soft voice. "It's aged us all one way or another."

Percy hung his head.

Well, this was getting much too serious. Time to change the subject.

"So, that's what they are calling it?" Bill asked, "The Battle of the Astronomy Tower?"

Percy shrugged. "What do you call it?"

"The Battle Where My Face Got Ripped Off."

Percy spluttered, rolling his eyes, and waving his hands incredulously. "That is not funny!"

"When will you ever learn, Perce?" Bill chuckled. "If you don't laugh, you'll cry."

"How can you laugh at things like that?" Percy shot back.

"How can I not?"

That had come out more seriously than Bill had intended. He looked at his scarred hands and took a deep breath. He could feel Percy's concerned eyes on him. Why did that make him feel twitchy? He, Bill, was the older brother, it was his job to make Percy feel twitchy, not the other way around.

"I came to speak to you about the Order of Mercy," Percy finally said in a business like tone. "I recruited Oliver."

Bill was grateful for the change of subject, but he still felt as though his skin was too small. He shifted on his stool, clearing his throat. He had a flash of memory. Dark hair and a broad smile and a large hand thumping Bill on the back.

"I never doubted that you would," he said, striving to match Percy's tone.

"He's recruiting Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet."

"They all played Quidditch together, yeah?"

Percy nodded and pushed his glasses up. "What I really came to tell you is that Catriona received her letter from the Commission."

Bill swore long and low. He should have seen this coming. Hell, he should have gone up to Dougal's parents' home and collected his friend's son and widow and sent them with Fleur out of the country. It's the least he owed Dougal, to keep his family safe.

Clenching his fists, Bill looked at Percy. "Alright," he said, striving for a reasonable sounding voice. "As soon as Fleur and Audrey return, we will arrange for Catriona and the baby to be evacuated."

Percy nodded. "Katie Bell, too. As a favor to Oliver."

"They're close?"

"Oliver is in love with her," Percy responded. "Has been for ages."

"We're going to need a plan," Bill said, opening the drawer to the butcher block and finding the parchment and self-inking quill that Fleur kept there. "Let's brainstorm, you and I, all the possible problems and hurdles we might face and start formulating solutions, shall we?"

The two brothers sat in the kitchen for hours making lists. Eventually, Bill dug out the cake Fleur made before she left. It was stale, but with a little milk, still good. It felt good to be doing something, like they were making a difference. It felt particularly good to be doing something with this brother, who sometimes felt lost to Bill.

oOo

By the time they reached Romania, Audrey was tired, dirty, and ready to go home. Even Seth's couch and the cubby he'd given her in the loo was better than one dizzying Disapparation after another. When they reached Viktor's home the day before, Fleur had borrowed his owl to send a message to Charlie Weasley. With any hope, he would be waiting for them when they arrived in the Romanian forest near the dragon reserve. Audrey could not say that she was particularly excited about being this near giant, fire-breathing lizards, even if their keeper was as sexy as Charlie Weasley.

"Have you been here before?" Audrey asked Fleur as they trudged through ferns and vines into a sunlit clearing.

"Non," Fleur said.

"So we could be marching into a dragon's lair for all you know?"

"Not likely."

A warm, masculine voice like bourbon seeped over them. Leaning on a battered broomstick, wearing a linen shirt rolled up to his biceps, was Charlie. Audrey had danced with him at the wedding when he was doing his duty by the wallflowers. As handsome as he was in dress robes, Charlie was something altogether sexier in old dragon-hide boots and clingy trousers.

She reckoned that Romania had its attractions.

Fleur rushed forward, embracing Charlie and covering him in excited French.

He laughed good-naturedly, his arms around his sister-in-law easily, brow furrowed in fond bemusement. "It's wonderful to see you, too, though I have to wonder what you've done with my brother."

"He is safe at home," Fleur answered.

"As any good, little husband ought to be. Hello, Audrey. What brings the two of you all this way? I have to admit that I was surprised by your owl yesterday."

For a moment, Audrey forgot her voice, so surprised that Charlie remembered her, but she quickly recovered. Smiling, Audrey replied, "You promised me another dance, and rudely broke your word. We're here to collect, of course."

Charlie chuckled. "Death Eaters are no excuse for bad manners. If you ladies will follow me, we can go to my cabin, and you can tell me your real reason for being here."

The cabin was sparse, with only one bedroom. There were curtains at the window, and a picture of his family on the mantle. Magazines and books were piled in a corner, as if Charlie had dumped them there to get them out of the way. A bowl of fruit sat on the counter, a cast iron pan full of grease sat on the range from breakfast. What it lacked in decoration, it made up for in lived-in comfortability.

Charlie hung his broomstick by the door, leaving their bags on a bench. Ushering Fleur and Audrey onto the sofa, he offered Butterbeer. Having fulfilled his duty as host, he sat on a kitchen chair, bottle in hand, and waited.

It surprised no one when Charlie Weasley offered his service to the Order of Mercy.

oOo

There was a totality to the darkness of the dragon reserve. Fleur lay in Charlie's big bed, Audrey's form only inches away, and yet she could hardly make out an outline in the blackness of the room. The next day, they would reverse their journey. Moving even more quickly through Europe and back to England. Fleur was glad. She missed Bill.

"The trip's been a success," Audrey said quietly.

"Oui. I do not suppose zat it will be zis easy in zee future."

They lapsed into silence. When they returned home, the real work would begin. Fleur was excited and frightened all at once, but of course those were emotions that were tightly linked. There was a small part of Fleur, the tiniest voice, that wondered if she could do all that she promised. Could she run a small and rebellious organization? The answer was yes because there was no room for failure.

"We have not done zis in a long time," Fleur said.

"What?" Audrey asked, yawning.

"Slept over. Zat is what you call it, n'est-ce pas?"

Audrey giggled. Many times, Fleur had slept over with Audrey in Ravenclaw tower. It had made Fleur feel like a normal girl, not a quarter-Veela or a Champion. A school girl who giggled and whispered about boys and read silly romances. The books were Audrey's, she insisted that they would help Fleur with her English. If nothing else, Fleur knew many euphemisms for the most interesting bits of the human anatomy.

They had met because Dumbledore assigned Audrey to be Fleur's guide through the vast and chilly school. They did not become friends because of Audrey's lack of jealousy. They became friends because they were both lonely. Their souls had known each another instantly.

Audrey was the girl unseen, and Fleur was the girl viewed too often. Friendship, it turned out, healed many wounds.

oOo

Long after Percy left, in the wee hours of the morning, Bill lie in his bed alone. His mind was tired, but still whirling with random thoughts and unbidden memories. One moment, he would see Catriona's face the night the Order had brought Dougal and Fergus' bodies home. The next he would be in the corridors of Hogwarts intercepting Greyback as he charged after Ginny.

Bill found that he couldn't think of the death of his friends without thinking of Greyback. The two events had happened months apart, yet they were all mixed up in his mind. Bill rolled onto his side, punching his pillow. So many what ifs played in his mind.

What if he'd never recruited Dougal and Fergus? What if he'd been with Dougal that night, instead of with Lupin on the other side of the village? What if he'd been a better flyer? Gotten there faster? What if he hadn't been there to stop Greyback going after Ginny? What if he'd been prepared to fight Greyback physically? What if he hadn't been so dependent on his magic?

It was Charlie who had put that last one in Bill's mind. He'd wanted to keep the extent of his injuries and the lingering side effects private, just between him and Fleur. Bill could just imagine the fuss his mum would make if she knew Bill didn't have full use of his left arm. That he felt a constant, tingling pain in the fourth and fifth fingers of that hand. She already teared up every time she noticed the tips missing.

But Charlie? Of course, Bill had told Charlie. He'd barely been in the Burrow an hour—returned for Bill's wedding—before Bill had pulled his brother aside. It had all come out in a rush. The fight with Greyback. How the bastard had rushed him, the way they'd grappled for Bill's wand until it had been knocked away. How it felt when Greyback slashed Bill's face open. Everything was black after that….

Bill had even laid out all his injuries. Explained his reaction to the moon. His sickening desire for raw beef.

"Is there something I can do, Charlie?" Bill asked in the privacy of their boyhood bedroom. "To manage the symptoms better? To manage the pain during the full moon?"

Chalie sat on the edge of his old bed, arms propped on his spread knees, fingers steepled. He looked up at Bill with a furrowed brow. "Why are you asking me?"

"You are a magizoologist," Bill stated, leaning against the opened and Muffiliatoed window.

"And?" When Bill didn't answer, Charlie took a deep breath and stood up. "Do you—do you think you are a beast?"

Did he? Bill wasn't sure. After the first full moon, when his body had tried to rip itself apart from the inside, he'd not felt fully human, that was for sure.

"No," Bill said finally. "Not entirely."

"Not at all," Charlie said. His mouth set in a firm line and his fists clenched. "You are a human infected with a disease, Bill. You will never find a magizoologist who will tell you otherwise. It's the prejudice of the Wizarding world and its Healers that keep lycanthropy from being cured."

Bill took that information in. He had known it, intellectually, but it was good to hear his brother say it aloud. It made him feel, well, it made him feel like a human. He stared unseeingly out the window, willing away the tears that threatened. He heard Charlie's quiet steps, then felt a heavy hand clamp down on his shoulder.

"You never said," Charlie said, "what made you take on Greyback in the first place?"

Bill looked at his brother, his eyes serious. "This goes no further than you and I."

"Understood."

"He was going after Ginny."

"Figured as much," Charlie said, then swore. "Does it make the sacrifice a little more bearable knowing that you protected our baby sister?"

"The sacrifice is nothing," Bill said, with a shrug. "I would do it again and again if I had to. It's the fact that he beat me, dammit!"

Charlie leaned on the other side of the window, arms folded. "Well, you know why that is, don't you?"

"Enlighten me," Bill replied dryly.

"You're a damned pantywaist without your wand, always have been."

"Sure, Charlie, take the mickey."

"I'm not," Charlie said in a low voice. "You are too dependent on your magic, Bill. You are a great wizard and can duel with the best of them, but Greyback forced you to meet him on his terms, not yours. He ran at you instead of hexing you. He overran you because he attacked you physically, and you weren't prepared to fight him on that level."

"Would you have been?" Bill shot back, pushing away from the window. Anger and hurt were flashing in his eyes.

"Yes," Charlie said matter-of-factly. "He would probably have still beat me, but I would have been able to keep him at bay longer. That's the difference between you and me, and you know it."

Bill made a rude gesture and stomped away, kicking the bed on his way by.

He hadn't been ready to hear Charlie's words then. It sounded too much like old arguments to do anything other than rankle. Now, all these weeks later, Bill could begin to admit that maybe Charlie had had a point. On good days, he and Charlie would joke about it: Bill was cerebral, Charlie was physical. On bad days, they would toss the same words at each other like Muggle dynamite. Yet, there was always more than a bit of truth to it.

Bill had been arrogant that night when he took on Greyback. He'd assumed he was the superior wizard, and he was. Bill was smarter and more skilled with a wand. But he hadn't counted on hand-to-hand combat. What else hadn't he counted on?

There were times when the doubts were worse than the pain.

Chapter 6

"Wake up, slug-a-bed."

Audrey slapped at the hand that ruffled her hair. "Leave me alone."

"Come on. We're expected for dinner with Mother."

He drawled the last word. Unwelcome light hit Audrey in the face, and she pulled the pillow over her head and mumbled obscenities at her brother. It was only a few hours since she arrived back in England, she was still sleeping off her whirlwind trip through the Continent. Finding out she was expected at her parents' home was not a welcome revelation.

The pillow was yanked off her head. "Up, Audrey!"

"You are annoyingly chipper," Audrey spat. She sat up, but didn't open her eyes.

"It's half past five in the evening, should I be anything else?" asked Seth, her nearest sibling in age.

"I think you got shagged while I was away," Audrey replied.

"Maybe I did, maybe I didn't. How much longer are you planning to sleep on my sofa?"

Audrey pushed her hair behind her ears, finally looking at her brother. "Are you kicking me out, then? I figured it was coming."

"No." Seth rolled his eyes. "You are so melodramatic. I just want to know if you plan on being gainfully employed again, that is all."

"You sound like Mother."

Seth threw the pillow at his little sister, hitting her squarely in the face. "Get dressed, brat."

Audrey stood under the hot water of the shower for ten minutes washing off the dust of her travels. She would have preferred at least twenty, but Seth started pounding on the door after eight, horrid brother. There was a time when Seth and Brian were both in the nursery with Audrey growing up, but she could hardly remember it—she'd been just five when Seth moved from the nursery to his own room.

Quickly, she dressed in a pair of high-waisted trousers and clingy white top. Audrey would have preferred to wear her favorite floral flock, but Seth didn't give her time to use the hair removal charm on her legs. Nor did he allow her time to dry her hair. They arrived on the doorstep of Sprayberry House with Audrey looking bedraggled, earning her a scold from Mother.

"Oh, Audrey," she said. Mother's eyes roamed from the top of Audrey sodden waves to the tips of her clunky shoes, and she tsked. "All I ask is that you be dressed for dinner."

"It was short notice," Audrey muttered.

"What was that? I do hate it when you mumble." Mother was, of course, dressed in beautiful celery green robes with lovely, blue swirl embroidery. Margaret Sprayberry was always impeccably put together. It was part of the image she wanted to portray to the world, that of the refined wife of good social standing. "Couldn't you at least wear robes?"

Audrey folded her hands primly before her. "I'm so sorry, Mummy, I'll try harder next time."

Mother leaned forward and kissed Audrey's cheek. "You are a trial, dearest."

She said it fondly, and often. Audrey was never sure if she was meant to take that as a complement or not. Was Mother as critical of her older sisters when they were in their early twenties? Certainly, Mother never gave Seth or Brian as much grief. The Sprayberry matriarch excused herself to check on dinner, despite the fact that their house-elves never failed to create a splendid meal.

"This is all your fault," Audrey said to Seth when Mother was out of earshot.

"How did you figure?" Seth smirked.

"You could have left me a note letting me know about the dinner."

"How was I supposed to know you'd be home? I don't even know where you've been."

"Then you could have woken me sooner. Twenty minutes is hardly enough time to get ready for dinner with Mother."

"Great Merlin's ghost, Audrey! Were you mauled by a Graphorn on your way here?" Brian demanded when he wandered out of the drawing room into the foyer. He was eighteen months older than Seth, and even more insufferable.

"Stuff it!" Audrey hissed, shoving a rude gesture in her brother's direction.

"Always charming!"

"Leave her be, Brian," Seth admonished.

A bad attitude never made these family dinners easier. Better just to grin and bear it, or better yet, to be slightly tipsy. Unfortunately, Audrey's stash of booze was depleted the other night when she had Percy in her room. For a moment, she wondered when she would see Percy Weasley again, it served as a nice distraction. The problem was that Audrey didn't really like the taste of alcohol, unless it was sickly sweet, and Mother only ever stocked the finest liquors. And finest usually meant bitter.

What Audrey needed to do was track down one of her sisters. She made a beeline for the drawing room. This room was reserved for entertaining. Every fourth Tuesday Mother hosted a card game, the second Wednesday there was a meeting of the Witches Institute, and of course, countless teas. The drawing room was covered in brocade and Axminster and Chinese vases. Exactly what one would expect to find in the home of a respectable wizarding family. As a child, Audrey wasn't allowed in this room, and now that she was, she found it boring. Although at the moment, what she found were not her sisters but her brothers-in-law.

Both of her sisters married Slytherins, but Audrey could not imagine two more different men. Her eldest sister Sarah's husband, Albert Runcorn, was powerfully built with a booming voice and social climbing tendencies. The Sprayberrys were hardly top of the heap, but they were at least three rungs higher on the social ladder than the Runcorns. Audrey couldn't imagine what Sarah saw in Albert. She supposed he was handsome, but he was so old—at least fifteen years older than Sarah. His intellect was middling—and intellect was everything in the Sprayberry family. He must have his charms, but Audrey couldn't see any.

On the other hand, Kitty's husband was everything Audrey's romantic adolescent fantasies had been made of. Well, maybe not everything. Lance Pucey was quiet and reserved, although Audrey had to admit her favorite romance heroes possessed those qualities, too. Lance was a Healer at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. He was tall and lean, with black hair and rare smiles that when bestowed were usually accompanied with a twinkle of good humor in his eyes. In short, Lance had kept Audrey's romantic ideals alive longer than necessary.

"I've heard you've had a visit from Avery Senior," Albert was saying as he poured himself a glass of Firewhisky.

"The Averys and Puceys are old family friends," Lance replied, and shrugged. He was sitting on the settee with a tumbler in hand, looking bored.

"Yes, well, I hear that Avery was recruiting," Albert pressed.

Recruiting? The Avery family was known for their ties to You-Know-Who. Surely Albert couldn't be insinuating that Avery was recruiting Lance to the Death Eaters. The Pucey family preferred to remain neutral on the matters of Dark Magic and blood purity, but Lance had spoken at length about his disdain for both. He specialized in Spell Damage, for Merlin's sake. He undid the harm that Dark Magic caused!

"Not everybody wishes to be a Death Eater," Audrey said, striding to the liquor cabinet and glaring at her brother-in-law.

Albert scowled. "Audrey. Shouldn't you be in the nursery with the other children?"

"Turn in any more Muggle-borns?"

Albert blanched, his frown deepening.

"Dirk Cresswell was a friend of Daddy's, you know?"

"You need some fresh air, little one, let's go." Lance's hand curled around Audrey's arm, and he propelled her onto the terrace. At the end of the garden, Audrey could see her sisters watching over their daughters as they played. "It doesn't serve anyone for you to bait Runcorn, least of all Sarah. It wouldn't kill you to learn some discretion."

Audrey opened her mouth to protest. She hated being treated like the know-nothing baby sister, mostly because that was exactly how she felt when she was with her siblings. Besides, "discretion" was just another way of asking her to not speak of her convictions in favor of family harmony. Certainly that was true of Lance. As far as Audrey was concerned, discretion was a little too highly valued by the Sprayberrys. The world was never changed by those who kept silent in the face of injustice, and Albert had certainly committed an injustice.

"Audi, did you just get here?" Kitty asked. She kissed her little sister's cheek, then linked her arm through her husband's.

"And it would appear that you just rolled out of bed," Sarah added. "Darling, life is easier when you don't give Mother ammunition."

"Funny, but we were just discussing the value of discretion," Lance put in.

Sarah frowned, her hands clenching. "What have you done?"

Audrey looked at her feet. "Well, Albert was in the drawing room…."

"Oh, Audrey!" Sarah scolded, wagging a finger at her sister. Apparently, she didn't need to hear the rest of Audrey's explanation to know what had happened. "I wish you wouldn't….If you'll excuse me, I have damage to undo."

"I'm sorry," Audrey called. Her stomach cramped, and she looked at Lance and Kitty. "I didn't mean to cause trouble."

"Didn't you?" Kitty asked, not unkindly. She unlinked her arm from Lance's, then ran her hand over Audrey's drying hair. "Let's fix you up, dearest. Lance, you'll watch the girls?"

"Of course."

Leading Audrey back in the direction of the house, Kitty kept quiet which was a relief. Audrey was expecting another lecture, and she was grateful when it didn't come. Years ago, Sarah had asked Audrey to be a flower girl at her wedding, and she'd refused, just sure that would keep her sister from marrying Albert. It hadn't worked, but maybe Audrey was still trying to undo what was already done. Maybe that wasn't fair of her.

"What happened to you?" Kitty asked, playing with Audrey's hair.

"I just got back from a trip—"

"Oh, where to?"

"Just…with Fleur…for a few days."

"With the way things are going, you should have probably stayed away. I hope you had fun."

Audrey nodded. "Anyway, I slept the day away, and Seth didn't tell me about the dinner until too late. He gave me twenty minutes to get ready, Kitty!"

"Well, our brothers are endlessly horrid," Kitty agreed. At the terrace door, they came face to face with said horrid brother. "I hear you owe Audrey an apology."

Seth looked from Kitty to Audrey, then smiled. "Sorry, brat. I forget that grownup girls need more than a half an hour to groom themselves." He leaned in and kissed Audrey's forehead. "I really was trying to let you sleep, believe it or not."

Audrey smiled at Seth. "I think I'll take 'or not'."

"See, Kitty, this is what I live with."

"Is Daddy going to join us for dinner?" Audrey asked.

Her siblings exchanged looks.

"Daddy received some new ancient scrolls by owl today," Kitty said.

That was all Kitty needed to say, Audrey understood the implication. Walter Sprayberry was a renowned scholar, totally absorbed by his work. If he was in the possession of new research, then he wouldn't be leaving his library for days, possibly weeks. Not for meals, or even the birthdays of his children. Audrey plastered a smile on her face and followed her sister upstairs to fix her hair.

oOo

Walking up the path to Red's Wood just before dusk, the first person Percy saw was Alex Wood. The twelve-year-old was sitting outside the back door with a broomstick across his lap, polishing it carefully. Percy was reminded of Oliver at that age. Alex was perhaps leaner than Oliver had been, but he had the same dark hair and height and the Wood nose. Alex also showed the same dedication to broom care.

"Hello, Alex," Percy called as he neared the house.

Alex looked up. His brows drew together when he saw Percy. "Hey, they are all in the kitchen waiting for you."

"Would you like to come in, as well?"

A small grin came to the boy's face. He pulled out a roll of flesh-colored string. "I think I have a better chance of finding out what's happening if I stay here, thanks to your brothers."

"May I?" Percy asked, extending his hand.

Alex placed the Extendable Ears in his hand, and Percy looked them over. So deceptively simple, but the magic that went into making such an item was beautiful. It had driven Percy mad at Hogwarts watching the twins goof off rather than apply their intelligence to their classes. Early on, Fred and George had a mastery of magic that was intuitive, far beyond Percy's talent. He only ever wanted to watch the twins grow as wizards and develop their abilities. It never occurred to Percy that they could do just that outside of the order of a classroom, but obviously they had.

"Well," Percy said, returning the item, "leave it to my brothers to find a way to corrupt the youth of Hogwarts even after they have left."

"I haven't been to the store," Alex said wistfully. "I wish I could, it sounds amazing."

"I wish I could go, too."

"Why don't you?" Alex asked, pinning Percy with a hard look.

"My brothers and I don't get along, I'm afraid," Percy replied evenly.

"Well, that's stupid."

Percy looked at Alex for a moment, taken aback by his forthrightness. Then Percy laughed because this second year had more wisdom than Percy could ever hope for. He knew that he was his own worst enemy, he rather thought it was a family trait. He wondered, not for the first time, how the Woods managed to temper their Gryffindor pride and stubbornness with wisdom. But the answer was this boy, a Hufflepuff like his mother.

The kitchen door opened, and Oliver appeared on the threshold carrying his godson. The baby was somewhere over six months old by Percy's calculations. He had red curls like his mother and brown eyes like his father. At the moment, he was chewing on one finger and looking at Percy like he had two heads.

"Hey, Perce," Oliver said and cleared his throat. "What are you doing out here?"

"Your brother was just reminding me that I am an idiot."

Oliver looked at Alex, then at Percy with a grin. "I've been telling you that for years."

"Yes, well, I suppose somebody had to keep me humble."

"C'mon," Oliver said, nodding at the kitchen. "Everybody is here. You, too, Alex."

Percy saw the younger boy's face light up as he scrambled to his feet and followed his older brother. Inside the kitchen, Mr. and Mrs. Wood were sat at the scrubbed, round table on either side of Catriona. Mr. Wood looked his usual, stoic self, but he was openly clutching his wand so tightly that his knuckles were white. Mrs. Wood appeared calm, but her eyes were red and puffy. At the center, Catriona's fair face was even paler than normal. When Percy entered, her eyes flicked to his face and then away again.

Oliver leaned one hip against the worktop, and Alex melted in beside him. Other than Oliver, none of the Woods looked directly at Percy, yet he could feel the anticipation in the air. There was an an awful weight in his chest, as if he were about to pass judgment on Catriona, decide her fate. He pulled the chair out and sat, setting his brief case on the table before him.

"So, I suppose we should simply cut to the chase," he said gravely. "Bill and Fleur have made all the arrangements to move you and the baby the morning after next. Katie Bell will be traveling with you."

"So soon?" Mrs. Wood asked, looking first at her daughter-in-law, then to her grandson.

"Time is of the utmost importance, I'm afraid," Percy said. "The, er, invitation was extended nearly a week ago, Umbridge will be expecting Catriona before the Commission shortly or Snatchers will be sent around."

Catriona flinched and leaned back in her chair.

"When—" Mr. Wood cleared his throat and tried again, "When Catriona doesn't appear, they'll send these…Snatchers to Red's Wood, yes?"

Percy nodded. "For that reason, I am not going to reveal to you Catriona's location. The less you know, the safer you'll be."

"What about my family?" Catriona asked in a quiet voice, looking at Percy fully. Mrs. Wood took her hand and gave it a squeeze.

Percy sighed. "I can't find any evidence that the Snatchers are harassing the Muggle families yet. They would risk breeching the International Statute of Secrecy and bringing further scrutiny from foreign governments. So far, Continental Europe and the United States have been content to wait and watch. He Who Must Not Be Named will not want that kind of attention until Harry Potter is dead, I suspect.

"However, he has no problem harassing other wizards, even purebloods like yourselves. You are going to need to take steps to protect yourselves."

All the Woods looked at Percy expectantly.

"What kind of steps?" Mr. Wood asked.

That feeling of holding somebody's fate in his hands settled over Percy again, making him feel sick. He took a moment to push his glasses up and fuss with his robes. He remembered that he'd once wanted to be on the Wizengamot. He and Penny would lie in bed, that first year after Hogwarts, and dream up such grand plans. He would be Minister of Magic someday, he would say. And Penny always laughed and said he could become Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot once he retired. Now, Percy realized, he could never hold that kind of power over another wizard.

"You are already suspected blood traitors," Percy said.

Oliver snorted, "You don't say?"

Percy spared his friend a quick glance. "Yes, well, it's no great secret that Dougal and Fergus were involved with the Order of the Phoenix and died in a battle against Death Eaters. In fact, I think that is the reason Catriona is being targeted so early on."

"They are making examples out of us?" Mr. Wood surmised.

Percy nodded. "Precisely. And so you need to make a show of being the opposite."

Mrs. Wood stiffened at this pronouncement. There was a shuffling behind Percy at the worktop, but he didn't dare turn to look at Oliver. Catriona appeared to have grown smaller.

"I don't think I like the sound of this, Cal," Mrs. Wood said wearily to her husband.

"We're going to do whatever it takes to keep Catriona and the family safe, Bertie." Mr. Wood looked to Percy, giving him silent permission to carry on.

"You'll need to erase all evidence of Catriona and Campbell from your home," Percy began. "Any personal items they leave behind, all the photographs you have of them, anything with her magical signature on it."

"Photographs?" Mrs. Wood echoed, giving Percy a sharp look.

Her eyes traveled to the door leading out of the kitchen, and Percy could well imagine what she was picturing in her mind. There was an entire wall of framed photos in the entryway. Pictures of each family member, including their daughter-in-law. Catriona and Dougal's wedding portrait was in pride of place, and tucked into the corner was a photo of the newborn Campbell snuggled into his mother's arms. There was a picture of all the Wood brothers together on the day that Campbell was christened. He was lying in Oliver's arms in a beautiful gown that had come from Catriona's Muggle family, and Dougal looked on his son with such happiness, one arm around Oliver's shoulders. Percy realized with a pang that that was the last photo taken of the Wood boys all together.

Percy steeled himself for the next part.

"When the Snatchers come—and they will come—you need to convince them that you threw Catriona out." He held up a hand when it appeared that Mrs. Wood would argue and pushed forward: "You need to convince them that you are not blood traitors. That you could no longer harbor your late son's—" Percy took a deep breath and looked at Catriona apologetically. "Dougal's Mudblood wife and—"

"That's enough," barked Mrs. Wood. She stood abruptly and paced away from the table. "Are you telling us that we are supposed to deny Catriona and Campbell? Act as if they are lower than dirt? I won't do it. I won't!"

Percy looked on in bewilderment at Mrs. Wood. He reckoned that he'd underestimated Hufflepuff stubbornness.

"These Snatchers, they are the foulest, lowest wizards," Percy explained. "Not Death Eaters, no, but violent and driven by greed. They will think nothing of torturing you or Alex to get the information they want. And please trust me!"

Percy stopped to collect his composure. He continued when he felt he could go on calmly, "Trust me when I say these are early days, Mrs. Wood, we have not yet seen what these animals are capable of, nor the kind of carte blanche they will be granted."

"Roberta," Catriona said. She stood, looking at her mother-in-law. "They are only words."

The baby fussed, and Percy chanced a look at Oliver. He was rubbing the baby's back, but there was a hard expression in Oliver's face that Percy had never seen before. Alex was looking at the floor, leaning into his older brother a little more. Before the night was through, Percy had some more bad news to deliver to his friend.

"We have to do what we must to keep Campbell and Alex safe," Catriona continued.

"It's not right," Oliver said thickly.

"Nothing about this is right," Catriona shot back with a flare of her ginger temper.

Mrs. Wood paced to Catriona's side and took the younger woman's face in her hands. "You are more than a piece of the son I lost," she said, tears shimmering on her cheeks. "You are the daughter I never had, and I love you. No number of foul words or nasty wizards will change that."

Catriona was crying, too, as she grasped her mother-in-law's wrists. "I know, and I love you. That's why I know you can do this, because Alex, Campbell and I need you to."

The chair scraped across the floor as Mr. Wood stood. His eyes were dry, but he wore sadness like a yoke. It settled around his neck, pulling his mouth into a deep frown and bending his broad shoulders. Pulling Catriona into his arms, Mr. Wood kissed her cheek roughly, then pulled away and looked at Percy.

"Morning after next you say?"

"Yes, sir."

Mr. Wood nodded. "I'll get Dougal's old school trunk out of the attic so we can begin packing."

"I-ah-I need to put Campbell to bed," Catriona said.

She stood, stretching to her full height. Catriona was a very tall woman with a mass of fiery curls. Truth be told, Percy had always found her a little intimidating. She crossed the small space between them, and Percy scurried out of his chair.

"Thanks, Perce," she said, pulling him into a tight hug. "I always knew you were a good nut."

Percy felt a blush creep up his neck, and he mumbled something incoherent. He was rather relieved when she fetched her son and went upstairs, only to find himself under the scrutiny of Mrs. Wood. Percy tugged on his collar. This was almost as bad as having his own mother inspecting him.

"Er, Mrs. Wood?"

Then he was being hugged by Oliver's mother. After a moment, he stooped down and pressed his face against her neck. He hadn't been hugged like this—by a mother—in two years. He was nearly ashamed of how good it felt.

"Go home, Percy," Mrs. Wood said into his ear, not unkindly.

"I'm working on it, ma'am."

She looked at him in a hard way, then smiled just a fraction. "Come around for meals more often, you are terribly skinny."

With a pat on the cheek, she was gone, leaving Percy alone with Oliver and Alex. The younger brother sniffed loudly and dragged the back of his hand across his nose. Oliver was very still and tense. He bore the weight of the world on those broad shoulders, the immense effort it required was reflected in that familiar face. The war had changed Oliver in some ways already, as surely as it had changed Bill. There was not one of them that was going to come through unscathed, Percy understood that now.

"I thought you would want to know," Percy said after a moment, "I found Katie's file in Umbridge's desk. She will be called before the Commission soon."

Alex looked up at Oliver, who just folded his arms over his chest stubbornly.

"Then it's a good thing," said the older brother, "that she's leaving with Catriona morning after next."

oOo

"Fleur! Are you ready?"

Fleur sat on the edge of her bed, strapping on her shoes. Bill was calling up the stairs for her. She hated it when he did that. She did not think it was so much to ask that her first night home be spent at home. But no, she must go to the Burrow. She did not know if she had the energy to endure an evening with her in-laws en masse.

Even now, after Bill's attack and the wedding, her relationships with the Weasleys were tentative. She got along well with Arthur and George, but Fred was still a bit reserved with her. She suspected this was due more to Bill than herself, however. Fred was a prankster, but he had yet to prank her, Fleur, and that was because of Bill's protectiveness. Fleur thought maybe her life would be simpler if Fred would just put frogspawn down her back.

As uncharitable as the thought was—especially given the circumstances—Fleur was relieved that Ron would not be there. He made her uncomfortable with his staring and manners. Fleur knew, too, that it was Ron who yelled out that invitation to the Yule Ball during the Tri Wizard Tournament. At first, Fleur was shocked by his coarse ways. Certainly she was accustomed to unwanted suitors, but most of them at least had the circumspection to importune her in dark corners. But after the shock wore off, Fleur was embarrassed for herself and for Ron, who was obviously mortified by his own actions. To her shame, Fleur knew that she added to his embarrassment with her own cold behavior. She regretted that, but she had never learned how to react gracefully to boys' advances, constantly afraid of their ulterior motives in approaching her. Her shame prevented Fleur from ever speaking of the incident to her youngest brother-in-law.

Yet, as uncomfortable as Ron made her, at least he was kind to Fleur. That was more than she could say for her new sister-in-law. Fleur had been excited to meet Ginny when Bill first introduced them. Fleur imagined that they would be great friends and maybe even sisters. As she missed Gabrielle so terribly, Fleur was anxious to have a new sister and one closer to her age. But that was not to be.

Before the attack, Ginny had been as openly hostile to Fleur as she could without rebuke. Fleur knew about the nickname—Phlegm. She asked Audrey what the word meant: snot, which had required its own explanation (and that had been disgusting). Fleur had not, however, told Audrey why she wanted to know the word, nor had she told Bill.

There was a slight improvement in Fleur's relationship with Ginny since Bill was attacked, but she had been much too busy nursing Bill back to health, then planning the wedding to spare Ginny much thought. Now Fleur wondered if that was a mistake. She feared that maybe she had lost her chance to become friends with the younger girl. She did not know, and at the moment it was exhausting to think about.

At least Molly seemed to accept Fleur, at last. A tiny bit of Fleur resented the fact that Bill had to nearly die for that to happen, but c'est la vie. There was nothing to do but move forward.

With that in mind, Fleur stood and smoothed her robes. Bill told her that Molly was quite—how did he say it?—beside herself with worry. With Ron, Harry, and Hermione gone, and now Ginny set to depart for a Hogwarts run by Death Eaters. It made a shiver run down Fleur's spine just thinking of it. So, yes, she could go with her husband to support his mother and family in this stressful time, and she could do it with a smile. She hoped.

Plastering a smile to her face, Fleur slipped off the bed and went to the landing. Bill was standing at the base of the stairs, smirking up at her. She was beginning to be able to read his new smiles easily now. This one said that he knew that she hated it when he yelled up the stairs instead of coming to get her like a civilized person. And the crinkles by his eyes said he could hardly wait to see what her reaction would be.

"There you are," he exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air.

Fleur waited until she was on the bottom step, this made them the same height. She folded her hands very primly before her and cocked her head to one side. "You were looking for me?"

"Always," he replied. He was still smirking at her, but there was a gentler expression in his eyes. Fleur trailed her fingertips over the crinkles there. For a moment, they stayed like that until finally Bill cleared his throat. "We should go."

They Apparated to the pasture just outside the wards around the Burrow. It was still a long walk to the house, moments that Fleur relished, having Bill all to herself for a little while longer. They held hands, Fleur leaned her head against his arm, her hair floating on the breeze.

At the gate, Bill stopped Fleur. "We don't have to stay late," he said, brushing her hair back. "I'll tell Mum you've been sick."

Fleur scowled at him. "Zen she will fuss at me, and I do not want your mother to fuss at me."

"Ah, but that is how you know she cares."

"Non, do not lie on my account."

Bill inched closer, his body so close she could feel the heat of it on her skin. "Then I could tell her the truth," he said, his voice husky.

"And what is that?" she whispered, wetting her bottom lip with her tongue.

"That I want to take you home and have my wicked way with you."

"Ugh! Get a room you two."

Fleur sprung back, jolted out of the moment by the angry words of her sister-in-law. The young French witch blushed as Ginny stomped passed, roughly knocking into Bill as she pushed through the gate and up to the house. Bill was yelling something after Ginny, but Fleur did not hear him. She was too embarrassed.

In the kitchen, Bill called a greeting to his mother, then was beset by the twins who pulled him back out to the yard. Bill shot a half-amused look to Fleur over his shoulder. She smiled back, waving him off with her fingers.

"Bonsoir, Mrs. Weasley," Fleur said to her mother-in-law.

Molly glanced up from her pot and smiled. "Oh, hello, dear." She looked out the window where Bill was being dragged toward the direction of Arthur's shed. She narrowed her eyes. "What do you suppose that is all about?"

"Nothing good, I am sure."

Molly laughed and wiped her hands on her apron. "More than likely." Then, "I hear you have been ill, feeling better?"

"Oh…." This was news to Fleur, but she supposed that Bill would have to give some excuse for her absence.

"Dear…." Molly pursed her lips, looking as if she was trying to find just the right words to say what she wanted to say. "You're not…." When Fleur did nothing more than furrow her brow, Molly huffed. "Well, you're not pregnant, are you?"

For the second time in a short span, Fleur felt herself blush. She could feel the heat prickle up her neck to her hairline and wondered if she had achieved a shade of red similar to Bill's when he blushed. That would make her a true Weasley, non?

"Oh! Um, no…why…I mean," Fleur stammered. She took a deep breath. "Non, definitely not."

Molly nodded. "Well, okay then." She looked wistful for a moment, then shrugged. "Probably for the best, really."

"Oui, I zink so—with zee war. It is not zee right time."

"That is true, very true. The first war was only barely getting started when we had Bill and Charlie, but it was in full swing by the time Percy came. Perhaps we should have stopped having children then, many did. There are a fair number of only children in that generation."

Molly sighed and went to the cupboard, but stopped. Without looking back at Fleur she said, "I regret how that war and this one has shaped my children's lives. So, yes, perhaps waiting is a very good idea."

Then she disappeared for a moment into the cupboard, only to reappear with a basket full of potatoes and onions. Molly's eyes were a bit wet, but no tears fell. It seemed to Fleur that her mother-in-law looked thinner, more drawn than she had even at the wedding. The younger woman stepped forward to take the basket.

"Is zere something I can do to help, Mrs. Weasley?"

Molly patted Fleur's cheek. "No, but perhaps you should call me 'mum' now?"

The enormity of the request was not lost on Fleur, but that did not mean she was easy about it. She would much prefer to call the older witch "Molly", as "Mum" conveyed a cozier relationship than Fleur believed existed. Fleur wrinkled her nose. Mum was so…so English. She wasn't even sure she could pronounce it properly, but she would try. This was an important step in creating a good relationship with Bill's mother, and Fleur could do it for him. Fleur could do anything for Bill.

"Merci, Mum," Fleur said in a quiet voice.

"Run along and tell Ginny to wash up. I'll have dinner ready in a trice."

Fleur's heart sunk at this next instruction. Facing Ginny was the last thing she wanted to do.

Pulling on a smile, Fleur went up to Ginny's room, hesitating at the closed door. When her wedding erupted into a battlefield, Bill and Charlie had whisked her and Ginny off to the safety of Shell Cottage before returning to the Burrow. The two young women had waited long, agonizing hours to find out the fate of their loved ones. Fleur thought perhaps the support they had shown one another that night might lead to a better relationship. She braced herself, holding that hope close to her heart as she knocked on the door.

"Go away!"

"Ginny, I—Your mother said dinner would be ready soon."

Fleur waited a moment, then the door was flung open. Standing in the threshold was the shorter, younger witch. Ginny's fiery hair was down, and her face was red and splotchy, but she had a fierce expression as she regarded Fleur.

"Have you been crying?" Fleur asked.

Ginny's mouth flattened into thin line. "No!"

Fleur realized she had said absolutely the wrong thing. Bill told her how Ginny hated to admit any weakness, and would rarely give into anything as feminine as crying. Clenching her hands, Fleur took a deep breath. What did she do now? How did she save this moment?

Try. Think. Say something.

With a scowl, Ginny started to shut the door. Fleur's hand flew out, bracing the door open. Both young women stared, wide eyed and slack jawed, at the other.

"I-I know how to make zee redness and puffiness go away," Fleur blurted out.

Ginny hesitated. Obviously, she would rather go on denying her frailty. Fleur doubted that her sister-in-law wanted to accept help from her, of all people. But Fleur was equally as sure that Ginny did not wish her mother or brothers to know that she had been crying.

"Okay," Ginny said and stepped aside.

Ginny's room was a sunny yellow and terribly messy, but an organized mess. It was obvious that Ginny was busy packing her school trunk as a maelstrom of clothes and books, parchment and quills, circled around it. Ginny sat cross-legged on the floor, staring up at Fleur. She could remember the girls in her dorm sitting just like that, gossiping and trading beauty secrets. Fleur had never been invited to join until she met Audrey, who was more inclined to talk about spell theory than make-up. Although, Audrey did like to talk about boys.

Sitting across from her sister-in-law, Fleur curled her long legs under her and smoothed her pale pink skirts over them. Ginny was staring at Fleur as if she were some ridiculous and exotic creature not well equipped to survive outside a gilded cage. Fleur knew better, she was a Tri Wizard Champion—a poor one, perhaps, but a Champion all the same—she knew a thing or two about fighting to survive.

Pushing down a spurt of resentment, Fleur took Ginny's chin in her hand, and for a moment she looked at the younger girl. Ginny was very pretty with thick, red hair that fell to the middle of her back and big, brown eyes. Fleur could not understand why this girl felt threatened by her.

"It is a simple spell," Fleur said, pulling her wand from her pocket and placing the tip gently against Ginny's cheek. "Non magis rubeat."

Fleur watched as the redness and puffiness receded from Ginny's cheeks and eyes.

"All better," Fleur murmured. "Do you have a mirror?"

Ginny looked around. "Don't you?"

"I have no need for a mirror."

Ginny rolled her eyes, but hopped up without comment. She went over to the small dressing table near the window and peered at herself in the mirror. The girl pulled her hair back and assessed herself from each side, then from the front again. Satisfied, she turned back to Fleur.

"How did you learn that spell?" she asked. "I didn't think you cried."

"Of course I cry," Fleur replied. She shifted onto her knees and hugged herself. "It is just zat my Veela magic hides zee signs."

"Then why do you know this spell?" Ginny challenged.

Fleur looked down, not sure if she wanted to confide in this girl. Try.

"Bill knows," she whispered.

"What?" Ginny said, coming closer.

Fleur looked up at her. "Bill knows," she repeated, voice stronger. "He can tell when I cry, and mostly I do not mind…but I cried many, many tears after Greyback, and I did not want him to know."

For a long moment, Ginny regarded Fleur with narrowed eyes. Fleur stared back unflinchingly. She'd offered a little of herself and if Ginny rejected it, it would hurt, but at least Fleur could say she was not a coward. Loving Bill had taught her that she must open herself to others if she wanted them to love her back. Fleur could not say that she wanted the love of many, but she did want Ginny's respect at the very least.

"So," Ginny started slowly, inching closer, "all that talk about not caring about his looks…."

"Was true," Fleur spat, rocketing to her feet. "I did not cry because he had some scratches on his face. I cried because Bill was in pain, and I could do so little for him. I cried because I came so close to losing him, and it frightened me. But I did not want him to zink zat I was weak or start zat ridiculous prattle about me going back to France, so I hid my tears."

Ginny stared at Fleur with round eyes, mouth hanging open. Finally, she squared her shoulders, and pulled herself to her full height. "Well," she said, "you should know, it's really disgusting when you and Bill feed each other and eat off one another's plates. And the kissing…everywhere! Especially in the kitchen—Blech! It drives Mum spare and really, it's just embarrassing. You'd get on her good side for good if you'd cut that out."

Fleur felt herself blush. A true Veela could not blush any more than she showed signs of crying, but this was a trait that Fleur inherited from her wizarding ancestry. She enjoyed it, actually, it made her feel more alive and human.

"Oh," Fleur muttered. "Oh. Alors…I am sorry."

Feeling absolutely mortified, Fleur pressed her hands to her cheeks.

"Merci," Fleur said at last. "I will be more—"

"'Circumspect' is the fancy word you are looking for," Ginny said.

"Oui," Fleur agreed with a nod.

The two young women regarded one another. Fleur wondered if in some way, Ginny had told her this as a thank you for teaching her that spell? Perhaps this was Ginny's way of taking a step towards Fleur. She felt hopeful.

There was a knock on the door, then it swung open and Bill walked in.

"Oi!" Ginny cried. "It's polite to wait for permission to enter, prat. What if I was naked?"

"Sometimes he forgets his manners," Fleur said to Ginny, pursing her lips. "You should hear zee way he bellows up zee stairs for me. So rude."

Ginny shared a conspiring look with Fleur. The blonde witch noticed her husband register the exchange, his eyebrows raised and a slightly shocked look on his face. Both witches laughed at his expense.

Snapping his mouth shut, Bill glared at the both of them. "Mum says it's time for dinner. Notice how I didn't yell that up the stairs?"

"That's because, for some stupid reason, you're more afraid of our mother than you are of Fleur," Ginny retorted. She looked at Fleur. "I'll have to teach you my Bat Bogey hex."

Fleur beamed. "Zat sounds disgusting…and useful."

"Oh, it is."

Bill stepped between them, wrapping an arm around Fleur's shoulders. "Come on before the twins do something to the peas. Speaking of which, did you know what those two are up to?"

"With the pirate station?" Ginny asked. "Yes, they gave me a wireless to sneak into Hogwarts."

"What is zis?" Fleur asked, resisting the urge to wrap both arms around her husband's waist and leaning her head on his chest.

"Oh," Bill replied with faux lightness, "just more of my siblings coming up with new and inventive ways to get themselves killed, that's all."

Notes:

If you liked the Wood family, they appear in nearly all of my stories about Oliver Wood and Katie Bell. Pictures of You can be read as a companion to Order of Mercy, if you're interested, but you don't have to read that story to enjoy this one. Thank you for reading and reviewing.

Chapter 7

The evening before Catriona Wood was due to become a refugee, Percy found himself standing in the empty and quiet kitchen of Red's Wood. Even in those first days after Dougal and Fergus died, when that horrible silence had settled over the house, Percy couldn't remember this room being empty. There had always been somebody making tea or feeding the baby or assembling a tray of sandwiches that would go uneaten. In happier times, Percy could remember loud family meals and quarreling brothers and scones baking in the oven. This home and this kitchen had been as happy as the Burrow.

Percy wandered through the hall into the foyer, marking other changes. The photographs were gone. Catriona and Dougal's wedding portrait, the photo from the christening, countless others. Mrs. Wood hadn't just removed those photographs, but regrouped the frames. Percy could see where the paint was brighter in places now that a frame was missing. He also noticed how few pictures there now were of Dougal. There wasn't a single picture of him over the age of fifteen.

Taking out his wand, Percy charmed the walls so that the paint matched. There, now no one would ever guess that something was missing. Unless, of course, they looked too closely.

"Oh, hello, lad."

Percy turned to see Mr. Wood coming from his library. He was a big man, tall with broad shoulders like his sons. For as long as Percy could remember, Cal Wood had neatly clipped white hair and beard, wrinkles around his eyes that suggested good humor. Today, however, he looked tired, aged, and unbearably sad.

The older man came to stand by Percy, staring at the wall of photographs. "I wish she would have just taken down the whole damn lot of them."

With a sigh, Mr. Wood clapped Percy on the back and disappeared into the kitchen.

The next person to appear was Catriona. She was taking deliberate steps down the stairs, careful where she put each foot. It wasn't until she was at the bottom of the stairs that she looked up and saw Percy.

"Cal will bring down the trunk shortly," she reported.

"Where's Campbell?" Percy asked, moving away from the photos.

"Having a last snuggle with his Nan."

Catriona rubbed at her eyes, turning away for a moment. Percy pulled a fresh handkerchief from his breast pocket and pressed it into Catriona's hand. Then he turned away, feeling embarrassed to be witness to such private moments.

"Cheers," she said. "I'm alright, but Ollie…."

Percy looked at her. "What about Oliver?"

"He just came from Katie's a little more than an hour ago. He-he won't say much about it, but I know he's hurting. They've had so little time together."

It was true: Oliver and his Katie had not had an easy time of it. The war, death, and tragedy had conspired to keep the two apart just as they were finally becoming something more than friends. Whilst Oliver had never told Percy directly, he had seen the many owls that had gone back and forth with letters in the weeks after Dougal and Fergus' deaths. Oliver and Katie had kept up a steady stream of correspondence, and Percy couldn't help but feel that it was Katie's letters that gave Oliver the strength to be there for his family in their grief.

"I'll take you to Shell Cottage," Percy offered. "I'll tell Oliver to go back to Katie's—if that's okay with you?"

Catriona nodded. "I think that would be best."

Percy watched Catriona fiddle with a strand of her ginger hair for a moment. He'd expected to find her sad, but resigned. Yet, she seemed distracted.

"Is there something worrying you?" Percy asked.

She glanced at him and took a deep breath. "It's Bill…I-I haven't seen him since before he was mauled by Greyback. I don't want to do or say anything to upset him."

"He looks different," Percy admitted. "He has five long claw marks across his face and part of his right ear is missing. His smile is different—"

Catriona made an anguished noise. No one who knew Bill wouldn't recall his winning smiles.

"He had to have stiches in his lip," Percy reported, touching his own mouth.

"That must have been serious," Catriona whispered. "In all the years I worked at St. Mungo's I only knew of one incident when Muggle stitches were used. I believe that patient's name was also Weasley."

"Yes," Percy replied dryly, "my family likes to set all sorts of healing precedents."

They lapsed into silence. No matter how hard they tried, there was no way to make light of the fact that a number of Percy's family members had nearly died while his back was turned. Percy pushed away the thought of Dad being bitten by that damned snake. That had been a horrible night of waiting and agonizing, followed by a day of listening to Fudge malign his father as a fool and a traitor. Bile surged up Percy's throat just thinking of it.

He cleared his throat. "But you needn't worry," he assured Catriona. "Bill is still Bill. Easy going, good humored, dependable Bill."

oOo

Old photos littered Bill's desk. Most of them from his Hogwarts days, a few from later. He picked up one from his Leaving Ceremony. There he was, nearly a decade ago, with his arm around Dougal Wood's broad shoulders. Over and over, they raised their wands and shot off crimson and gold sparks into the air, grinning like idiots. They looked so damned young. Bill picked up a second photo, still from the Leaving Ceremony, but this one of Dougal with Catriona. Bill may have gotten older, and Dougal sure as hell did, but Catriona looked just the same. In the photo, Dougal held Catriona in his arms, grinning down at her, then one of his hands reached for the lens, but Bill could just make out the pair kissing.

Dougal had asked Catriona to marry him that day. Bill had known his friend was planning it. Hell, Dougal had been planning it since they'd been fourteen, and Catriona broke Dougal's nose in a Quidditch match. Yet, Catriona had surprised them all by saying "no." Apparently, getting married straight out of school was unusual for Muggles and Dougal's proposal had come as something of a shock for her. Not that Dougal had been deterred, not in the least. He'd put that famous Wood stubbornness to good use. It took him more than a year, but Dougal finally convinced Catriona that their love was bigger than age or conventions and finally Catriona said "yes."

Bill had been at the wedding that took place six months after. It was one of the few times he'd returned to England after taking the curse-breaker job in Egypt. He remembered seeing Catriona at the top of the aisle with her wild hair tamed in a sleek updo and her nervous smile. At the other end was Dougal, smiling confidently. There had never been a moment when he doubted that Catriona was the love of his life. They'd been just twenty at the time.

Years later, when Bill recruited Dougal to the Order of the Phoenix, Catriona was already pregnant. Not that Bill had known that at the time. Maybe if he had, he would have never asked. And then what? It would be Dougal whisking his wife and child to safety in Europe, instead of this clandestine group sneaking a young widow and her child out of the country.

"Bill, zey are here."

Fleur was standing on the threshold, hand on the doorknob. There was a sad look on her face, as if she knew what he was doing, what he was feeling. Maybe she did. Fleur could read him like a book.

"Alright, love," he murmured.

With another sad look, she slipped out of the room. Bill pulled his wand from the worn leather sheath he wore on his forearm and with a swish, the photos levitated then marched in an orderly fashion back into their box. He holstered his wand and stood slowly.

Before reaching the hall, Bill could already hear the baby whimpering and Catriona's familiar brogue soothing him. Bill hadn't seen them since the funeral where Catriona had been wearing formal, black witches' robes and her hair had been tightly braided under a pointed hat. He remembered watching the baby squirm in her lap instead of listening the minister. Bill had been struck then by how alone Catriona had looked, even as he was sitting with Fleur's hand in his own.

Bill took a deep breath before joining the others. Percy was standing by the door, looking like a giant and clumsy bird. That thought brought a smile to Bill's lips, and for the first time that day, a bit of the weight in his chest lifted. Fleur was fawning over the baby, who was frowning, tears in his eyes. Catriona's were looking at her son, but her eyes came up to meet Bill's when he stepped into the entryway.

There was a moment when time stood still as Catriona took in Bill's new appearance. He was aware of how gruesome a sight he was these days. Upon returning to work, the goblins barely seemed to notice the change, but his human co-workers could barely make eye contact. It was a relief sometimes, knowing he was unlikely to meet old acquaintances in Diagon Alley. At least he didn't have to endure their pitying stares or appalled faces. None of that in Catriona's expression. He could read sadness in her green eyes, but also the same old affection and friendship that had always been there.

"Fleur," Catriona said, "did you know that you left hundreds of witches across Britain and Scotland heartbroken when you took Bill Weasley off the market?"

Fleur looked over her shoulder at Bill before turning back to the taller witch. "Oh, oui, all zee other secretaries at zee bank were quite jealous when he asked me out, including Terrance and Randall. Zey were hoping zat Bill secretly fancied wizards."

Bill felt himself blush.

Catriona laughed. "Well, he was always a pretty boy. Even at Hogwarts, a fair number of wizards had fancied Bill."

"Shut it, you two," Bill growled, noting that even Percy was laughing now.

Catriona shifted Campbell onto her hip, the baby snuffled and pressed his red face into her bosom. Then Bill was being embraced by one of his oldest friends. Merlin, she was comforting him, and he didn't deserve it, not from her. Not from a woman who had lost so much more than he had. All the same, Bill found himself clinging to her. When she pressed a kiss into his scared cheek, Bill couldn't help but feel grateful and relieved and guilty all at once.

When they pulled back, Bill's eyes locked with Catriona's just for a moment. Long enough for a wave of grief and regret to pass between them.

"Oh, the stories I could tell," Catriona said with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"We have all night," Fleur said, doing her best to smile and sound chipper. She looked at Percy. "Will you join us for dinner?"

"No," Percy said with a shake of his head. "Thank you, but I must be going. I'll be here early tomorrow."

"Audrey will be here, as well," Fleur said with sly grin.

Percy pushed his glasses up, red creeping up his neck. "Well, I should hope so," he blustered.

Bill laughed at his brother's expense, feeling the balance restored now that the focus was off of him. The witches disappeared into the kitchen, as Bill saw Percy out. They confirmed the time of departure for the following morning. When Bill entered the kitchen, Fleur was preparing a bottle of wine.

"Would you like a glass, Catriona?" she asked, using her wand to remove the cork. "It is a nice red tonight, as Bill likes his meat rare."

Catriona sighed. "Alas, no. I can't drink as long as I'm nursing him."

Fleur looked thunderstruck, Bill could only laugh.

"Rethinking having my babies, there, love?"

"Oui! No wine, I hadn't zought about zat…" She shook her head and looked at Bill, her blue eyes twinkling with mischief. "I am a Frenchwoman, Bill, I cannot live without my wine. I hope you will not be disappointed."

"Not nearly as disappointed as my mother," Bill said with a laugh.

Fleur pulled a face, then handed Bill a glass of wine. "Molly will get over it."

"I wouldn't count on it."

oOo

"Well, then, what is going on with that arm?"

Bill looked at Catriona. She was sitting on the floor, a cup of tea in one hand and the other stroking the sleeping Campbell's back where he lie on the floor beside her. When Bill didn't respond right away, she merely lifted her eyebrows expectantly and waited. Finally, he set his own teacup on the end table and sat next to her. Fleur had discreetly excused herself after dinner to let the old friends have a bit of a catch up.

"I don't know what you are talking about," he replied, the corner of his mouth tugging into a smirk. He knew he wasn't going to be able to put her off.

"I've been watching you favor your left arm all night, Bill. You won't even pick up a tea cup with it."

It was Bill's turn to lift his brows. Just to spite her, he leaned forward and very purposefully picked up the tea cup with his left hand. Catriona's face clearly said that she knew he was full of shit, but he just smirked. He lifted the cup to his lips to take a sip only to have it jerked out of his hand, hot liquid slopping onto his shirt and crotch.

"Shite!" he muttered, taking his wand out and vanishing the liquid.

Catriona set the cup in its saucer. "Now, pick up the saucer."

With a sigh, Bill did as he was told, already knowing what the result would be. It was one thing to pick up the whole cup, hand curled around the bowl, and another to pick up the saucer made unwieldy by the full cup sitting in its center, grasped between his thumb and forefinger. As he lifted the delicate blue and white china saucer, his hand trembled causing the cup on top to clatter, sloshing milky tea onto the plate. Disgusted, Bill plunked the china back down.

"Happy?" he growled, throwing himself back against the sofa.

"Not in the least," Catriona responded. "So, are you going to tell me about it?"

Was he? Catriona was making it so easy. She had been a medi-witch at St. Mungo's before the baby was born, and when she spoke to him, there was no pity in her voice. She was professional—compassionate and no-nonsense all at once.

"Well," Bill started, and pointed at his face, "aside from this charming reminder to all who see me that I was werewolf fodder, the bastard took a chunk out of my hand." Bill held up his left hand, the last two fingers where missing their ends.

Catriona nodded. "I noticed." She took his hand, running her thumbs over the scars that littered back of it. "But that's not what's bothering you."

"I don't know, it's pretty damn gruesome."

"Are the tendons damaged?"

Bill pursed his lips, not surprised that Catriona deduced the real problem. "Not in the hand."

Before he could think better of it, Bill unbuttoned his white shirt and pulled his left arm out of the sleeve, revealing the bandages underneath. His arm was neatly wrapped across his chest, around his shoulder and down to his wrist. There were a couple of red splotches staining the otherwise pristine white. Catriona shifted to kneel before him and began unwinding the bandages.

"Who does your dressings?" she asked.

"Fleur."

"She does a very nice job. How often does she change them?"

"Now? Just once a day. In the beginning, it was every few hours."

"So, your wounds have improved then?"

"Well, they no longer bleed, and I'm off the blood replenishers."

When the bandages were gone, Catriona sat back on her haunches and looked unflinchingly at the red and raw bite marks that covered his arm. The worst tore into his tricep, accompanied by the slash of claws. That was the one that still seeped, though not like before.

Catriona peered at the wound closer, prodding the flesh around it with gentle, but competent fingers. "And he was a man, when he did this?"

"I don't think that Greyback is a man at all."

She curled her lip. "Aye, truer words…." She shook her head, then returned to her former, professional manner. "So, the arm is weak, what else?"

"Diminished sensation, unless you count the tingling numbness that's nearly as bad as the pain I was in when I first woke up."

"Tendons, muscles, nerve endings," Catriona recited. "And magic can do nothing to repair it?"

"Cursed wounds," Bill replied with a shrug.

Catriona snorted. Bill looked at her, and she burst out with a full chuckle.

"The curse breaker with the cursed wounds," she scoffed.

"Finally," Bill exclaimed, matching her grin, "somebody sees the humor in it."

"Aye, well, medi-witches are known for their gallows humor, aren't they?"

"Laugh or cry, is it?"

"Something like that." Her brow furrowed as she studied his arm again. "The stitches worked on your mouth, aye?"

Bill touched the corner of his mouth. "Yes. What are you thinking?"

Catriona shrugged. "Well, I'm no healer."

Bill rolled his eyes. "But…."

"I just wonder if Muggle surgery could repair the damage to your arm?" Catriona shrugged again and sat back. "I'm not up to date with Muggle medicine—especially regarding nerve damage—so it's just speculation. I do know that it would be a long, painful recovery."

Bill let his arm go limp by his side. "Well, I can't afford that just now. Especially if we don't even know if it would work."

He didn't add that the thought of being cut into frightened him. He'd had a Muggle-born mate in Egypt who liked to watch surgeries on the telly. There had been something barbaric about the way the surgeons cut into flesh and sinew. Even the needle piercing his skin for the stitches had seemed crude to him, though he couldn't deny the results.

"Would you like me to redress that?" Catriona offered.

Bill shook off his thoughts. "No, I usually let it breath at night anyways."

While Bill pulled his shirt back on and Vanished the old bandages, Catriona settled in beside him again. He watched her fuss with the baby's blanket for a minute.

"So, are you going to tell me where we are going tomorrow?" she asked.

"You'll be staying with Fleur's parents in France," he replied. "Fleur was hoping, being a medi-witch, you might lend your skills to the Order of Mercy and help with any Muggle-borns who might be injured during their escape."

Catriona smiled, her eyes flashing. "Aye, it'll be good to lend a hand and keep my skills from getting rusty. That witch of yours, she has a good heart."

Bill felt a fond smile stretch across his face as he looked down at his hands folded in his lap. "That she does."

"Dougal and I use to worry about you." Catriona leaned her head against Bill's shoulder.

Bill snorted. "I doubt that."

"All right then, I worried, and Dougal told me that it was a waste of energy, that you'd figure it out in the end. And he was right, he usually was." She looked up at Bill through her lashes. "I always figured you would marry someone brilliant—and Fleur is, of course—but I always hoped you'd find somebody who was as kind and brave as you are and you did."

"How could you doubt?" Bill teased.

Catriona glared at him. "Would you like me to name every horrible girlfriend you had at Hogwarts?"

"No, please don't."

"And I have to admit, I wasn't so sure about Fleur the first time I met her, or the second, for that matter."

Bill remembered taking Fleur to meet Dougal and Catriona at the Leaky Caldron. They'd only been dating for about three months, and Fleur was very nervous about meeting the older, married couple who were so important to him. He wasn't surprised that Catriona was put off by Fleur when they first met, she did not make a good impression.

"I couldn't understand what you saw in that brittle little girl with the haughty manners," Catriona explained, and Bill snorted. "But Dougal wouldn't say anything either way."

"He was always a good judge of character."

"Aye, he was," Catriona agreed. She fell silent for a moment, staring at some distant point. Just when Bill was going to change the subject, she continued, "And I had learned to trust his judgment by then. If Dougal thought Fleur was worth giving a second—or third—chance, then so did I.

"So, we had the two of you over to our flat, and we plied Fleur with wine."

"She thought that was the worst wine she'd ever tasted," Bill chuckled, remembering.

"Yes, I remember," Catriona replied dryly. "She mentioned it more than once."

"She's French."

Catriona rolled her eyes. "Well, despite her terrible manners, she got plenty drunk, and we played all my favorite Muggle board games."

"And…."

"And...Fleur was funny and smart and completely rude about the wine, but still somehow charming."

"And the two of you murdered Dougal and I at Monopoly," Bill remembered, leaning his head against the top of hers.

Catriona laughed. "We did. Dougal always said that my Slytherin side came out when I played Monopoly."

"Hmph, this from a man who cheated at Exploding Snap."

"You knew about that?" She sat up to look at Bill with a wide grin.

"We all knew about it, we just couldn't figure out how he did it."

"I don't know either, he never told me." A stricken look came over her face.

"Hey," Bill said. He wrapped his arms around Catriona's trembling shoulders.

Catriona's hands clutched his shirt, balling it into her fists. "Oh, Merlin, who's going to teach Campbell?" she cried, and took two stuttering breaths. "Dougal would want him to know. Why didn't he make sure that I knew?"

She crumpled into harsh sobs. The guilt that surged up from Bill's belly was overpowered by the weight of the grief that pierced his heart. He felt such sorrow for his lost friend, but not this strongly, not since the night Dougal died.

"We talked about it, Dougal and I," Catriona said between gasping breaths. "We made plans in case the worst happened and he-he died: wills, savings, insurance policies, godfather. It's why I stayed on at hospital part time after Campbell was born, in case I had to become the sole provider."

Catriona sat back and wiped at her eyes raggedly with her fingers. "And then something stupid, something small happens, and I'm so angry. At him, at myself, because why didn't we think of this?"

Tears pricked the back of Bill's eyes, his throat ached. "It's—Don't be angry with Dougal, it's me. It's my fault, you should be angry with me."

There. He'd said it. The memory of Dougal's blood on Bill's hands after the battle surged to the front of his mind. The tears that were threatening spilled over. He pulled his knees up, locking his arms around them and leaning his head against the tops of his hands. He'd given voice to his deepest sorrow: that his actions had killed two of his closest, dearest friends. It pained him in the darkest parts of the night when the nightmares came, and most of all, during the full moon when he was already vulnerable from the physical pain.

"If I had it to do all over again," he said, squeezing his eyes shut against the hot tears, "I would have never asked Dougal to join the Order. Nor Fergus. Merlin knows, you couldn't have one without the other. Then none of this would have happened…if I hadn't…."

"Bill."

Catriona's voice was soft, her fingers on his injured hand light.

"Listen to me. What happened was not your fault."

Bill snorted in disgust. "How can you say that? I'm the one who recruited them. They would have never been in Little Helga that night if it hadn't been for me."

"With or without the Order, Dougal would have found a way to fight You-Know-Who, Fergus right by his side. It had been on his mind for a long time, long before you approached him." Patiently, Catriona wrapped her fingers around Bill's hand and gave it a squeeze. "You know Dougal, he was never one to ignore uncomfortable truths, and that included the return of You-Know-Who. He'd been ready to fight for a long time."

"What could he have done without the Order?"

"Do you think you are the only one with access to Dumbledore or McGonagall? If you hadn't asked, Dougal would have found a way. You, of all people, should know how stubborn he was."

"But you were pregnant…."

"And that just strengthened his resolve," Catriona argued. "Bill, do you know what was in the breast pocket of Dougal's robes when he was killed?"

Suddenly, Catriona pulled her hand out of his. Bill looked up. From her own pocket she pulled a photograph. She took a moment to glance at it before pressing it into Bill's hand. With a heavy heart, he looked at it. He knew this picture. It was of Catriona and Campbell. He had seen it the night of the battle, Dougal had shown it to Bill's mum.

"That's a copy," Catriona said, nodding at the picture. "McGonagall gave me the original when the Order brought their bodies home. She said that your mum had found it when she prepared his body. It had the date written across the back and Dougal's blood on it."

Catriona's voice broke. Bill felt like he'd been punched in the gut.

"I buried him with the original," Catriona said, her voice tight. "I tucked it into his breast pocket, over his heart." She touched her own heart. "But don't you see? Dougal had his own reasons to fight You-Know-Who, and he was willing to die for them."

"Oh, Merlin, I miss him," Bill whispered.

Catriona took the photo back and smoothed her thumb over it. "So do I, so much. Lately, I've missed the weight of him. The weight of him in our bed, the weight of his hand on my thigh, the weight of his body on top of mine." She squeezed her eyes shut, her cheeks flaring with color. "Sorry, I just don't know who else I could say that to."

"Well, I found the two of you in enough broom cupboards, you needn't be embarrassed."

"True," Catriona said with a gurgling laugh. She wiped at her eyes. "I think you are the only other man in the world to see me topless."

It was Bill's turn to blush. "Merlin, Catriona…."

"I've had enough crying to last me a lifetime, Bill. I promised Dougal I would keep living, that I would show our son what it meant to be strong. I lingered too long at Red's Wood because it felt like I was close to him by being near the family that he loved, in the place that he loved. Now, I have to go into hiding to keep our son safe, but when all is said and done—no matter how this war turns out—I need to start living my life again, and I need to do what's best for Campbell."

Bill was quiet, attentive. He could sense that she was about to ask him something important, and he would do it. No matter what she said about Dougal having his own reasons to fight and die, Bill did not feel wholly absolved of the guilt. He'd still been the one to recruit the Wood brothers to the Order of the Phoenix. He'd been the one to survive the Battle of Little Helga when Dougal and Fergus were both gone.

"Dougal and I put as much money as we could in savings, just in case," Catriona explained. "We'd been planning to buy a house before the Battle of the Ministry, but changed our minds after he joined the Order. So, there's that money and what we could set aside, plus his life insurance policy. Campbell, as well as Alex, was the beneficiary of Fergus' policy. I have enough to pay whatever expenses we incur at Fleur's family's home."

Bill brushed aside her concerns with a flick of his hand. "You needn't worry about that. Fleur's contacts have already begun fund raising efforts to support the refugees."

"Then, I have enough to start anew, but I need to be in control of my funds," Catriona stated matter-of-factly. "If Harry Potter fails, if Britain falls, I will take Campbell to America."

"Speak to my father-in-law about opening an account for you at La Banque de Saint-Jérôme. I can start funneling your money into the account, but slowly, as to avoid suspicion."

"Thank you, Bill," she whispered, taking both of his hands in hers.

"I would do anything for you. I owe Dougal that much."

"You owe Dougal nothing."

"Then I owe you."

Catriona shook her head, a sad smile on her face. She grasped his face in her hands and leaned forward to press a kiss into his forehead. "You're a good man, Bill Weasley. If you want to repay me, then make that young woman you tricked into marrying you happy."

"Every day, I promise," he swore.

"Good, then we're even."

oOo

Bill collapsed into bed after carrying Campbell up for Catriona. They had stayed up much too late for the early morning they had to face. He flung his arm over his eyes, thinking about all that Catriona had said to him about Dougal, about Dougal's own choices. He felt a shift on the mattress, and Fleur snuggled into him.

"I missed you, mon Bill," she slurred sleepily.

A tiny bit of peace settled over Bill, a smile touching his lips.

Chapter 8

It was a fitful night for Percy. He felt like he did before a big test or an assignment was due, as if his mind was so full of thoughts and ideas that he was unable to turn it off. He'd gone to bed at a sensibly early hour, seeing as how he'd need to be up well before dawn the next day, only to toss and turn, catching mere snippets of sleep between the worries and inner monologues that plagued him. He was probably in his deepest sleep when the Tempus charm he'd set sounded the alarm to wake.

With a groan, Percy sat up in his bed, rubbed his gritty eyes, and swung his legs over the edge of his mattress. After a few moments, he put on his glasses and dressing gown. Normally, he went for a run in the mornings, but he'd have to forgo that and go straight to the shower. A long, hot shower was one of the luxuries he'd allowed himself after leaving home. At the Burrow, with so many vying for the one bathroom and the limited hot water (magic could only go so far), there was always a strict ten-minute policy. All of his brothers and Ginny violated the rule on occasion, but Percy never did. He wondered, now that Ginny was a teenager, if she broke the rule more often. He also wondered why he never let himself bend even this one, unimportant edict in the nearly nineteen years he'd lived in his parents' home. Merlin, he'd even followed it while at Hogwarts.

The shower did wonders for Percy—waking him up, loosening his muscles, stimulating his sluggish brain. Once he was dressed in his Ministry robes, he felt ready to face whatever challenges the day may bring. This was the first test of the Order of Mercy, though Percy suspected this morning's activities would pale in comparison to what was to come. As quickly as this happened, Katie Bell and Catriona Wood were given some time to pack and prepare, the Order of Mercy was given time to plan its moves. Percy did not believe most Muggle-borns would be given such an opportunity in the future.

If he were honest, Percy had to admit he felt exhilarated by what was to come. This was the ultimate rule breaking, wasn't it? Subverting the government—though he could hardly use that word for the tyranny of He Who Must Not Be Named and his lackeys. Percy supposed that snogging Penelope in abandoned classrooms during prefect rounds also qualified as rule breaking. As did shagging her in the Prefect's bathroom. But those memories no longer held the illicit thrill they once did. Instead, there was only bitterness and betrayal.

Instead of wallowing in thoughts of Penelope, Percy considered that he only broke the rules if he could do so in a grand fashion. That made him grin. Let Fred and George call him stuffy, at least he had style.

Over a bowl of cereal, Percy took a moment to consider Oliver. This would be a hard day for his friend. Oliver would be sending three people he loved into hiding for an indeterminate length of time. They would be separated physically, of course, but also by distance. They wouldn't even be allowed correspondence. Once Katie, Catriona, and Campbell were gone, Oliver would just have to trust that they were safe. Percy wondered if he could keep such faith if the roles were reversed, but then Oliver had always been stronger than Percy in that way.

After washing out his bowl, Percy retrieved his briefcase, then proceeded to the Apparition point nearest his flat. In seconds, he stood on the beach above Shell Cottage. The world was still dark, the slender crescent of the moon hanging in the sky. The roar of the sea and the slip of the sand under his shoes seemed so familiar to him now, that gave him comfort.

When Percy stepped onto the back porch of Shell Cottage, he found Audrey already standing there. She was dimly illuminated by the light coming through the curtains in the door's window. At the sound of his shoes on the stair, she turned and smiled. Percy's breath caught in his chest. He hadn't seen her since she left for the Continent with Fleur—that was a week ago. Merlin, Audrey was as pretty as he remembered.

"Er, good morning," he said.

Why couldn't he be one of those suave fellows who said clever things?

She wrinkled her nose. "Does this qualify as 'morning'? The sun isn't even up yet."

"What would you call it then?"

Audrey tapped one finger against her pretty, little mouth. "The second time I have ended the night with you and still haven't been kissed yet."

Percy tugged on his collar, feeling the burn of a blush climb up his neck to his face. He wondered if she could see just how flaming red he was becoming in the dim light. He also wondered if he should take up her challenge and kiss her right there. His mouth went dry, and even more blood left his brain to settle into more interesting (and less intelligent) parts at the mere thought of it. Thankfully, some tiny bit of his intellect that was still functioning told him not yet.

"What are you doing tonight?" Percy asked instead.

"Standing on Fleur's porch apparently," Audrey replied, motioning around.

Percy blinked at her. Was she taking the mickey? Or was she politely turning him down? He rather thought that his meaning was clear. Wasn't that how one proffered a date? Was she not interested? Why would she flirt with him otherwise?

"Er, I meant this coming evening," he amended, feeling incredibly stupid.

"Oh, well then, I suppose I have a full night of annoying my brother scheduled."

Percy smiled. She was taking the mickey.

"Why do you live with your brother?" he asked.

"Well, I am unemployed. Or at least, I don't have a paying job. Seth is taking pity on me, although, I suspect he will be shuffling me off to Brian's soon enough. I really do annoy him."

"Who is Brian?"

"My other brother. I think he might have been the same year as Bill. Certainly, he gets very irritated whenever I mention Bill, I think he beat Brian out for Head Boy."

Percy nodded. This was all rather fascinating, but completely off topic.

"I meant why don't you move home until you find another job?"

Audrey scrunched up her face as if she smelled something foul. "No, thank you."

It occurred to Percy that he had been trying to ask Audrey on a date and wondered how they had gone so far afield. How was he to go about it now? Should he just blurt it out?

The door opened, seemingly ending Percy's opportunity. Bill stood bleary eyed in the threshold.

"Morning, you two," he mumbled. "Want some coffee? I reckon we might need something stronger than tea this morning."

Audrey looked up at Bill. "Actually, Percy was trying to figure out how to ask for a date, so if you wouldn't mind closing the door?"

Bill took in this information, rolled his eyes, and then complied.

When Audrey turned back to Percy, his mouth was hanging open. He knew his blush was burning even brighter than before and he'd be damned if he could find a word to say. She had just told Bill…Merlin help him….

Clasping her hands primly in front of her, Audrey leaned forward and said softly, "The answer is likely to be 'yes,' if that helps."

"You are quite—" His lips were flapping uselessly.

"Pretty? Witty? If you say 'cute as a button,' I'll hex you," she said conversationally.

"Something else," Percy muttered. Annoying, infuriating, bold, funny, likely to be the death of me. He shook his head. "So, about this coming evening, would you like to come out with me?"

"That sounds delightful," she said with a bright smile. "Wear something with a lion on it when you come around for me, that will drive Seth mad!"

"I don't think it prudent to anger my date's elder brother."

"Whyever not? Seth is a lot more fun when nettled."

"Spoken like a true baby sister," Percy admonished, shaking his head.

The door opened again. This time Fleur appeared, looking very annoyed.

oOo

"What could you have possibly done to annoy Bill already zis morning?" Fleur hissed into Audrey's ear as she refilled the coffee pot with her wand. Finally, these silly English had come to understand that coffee—not tea—possessed true restorative powers.

Audrey's eyebrows lifted innocently. "Nothing."

The small, dark haired witch shot a glance at Percy who was sitting at the table pretending that Bill did not exist. The young man blushed when he caught Audrey's eye on him. She wore a very smug expression on her face.

With a roll of her eyes, Fleur took her cup of coffee and walked out of the room. How she longed for a true cup of coffee. A strong, robust French roast mellowed with a thick milk. She pictured the perfect swirl of creamy brown and sighed. Maybe later, when Catriona and Campbell were safely in France. For now, Fleur had to content herself with the bitter, weak swill that the English called coffee.

She wandered into the sitting room, away from the people crowded into her kitchen. The tension was thick, Fleur could feel the fear and worry vibrating in the air. Even in this vacant room, the emotions were strong, but not as suffocating as they were in the kitchen.

Fleur sat on the settee, the cup of coffee in one hand, the other pressed to her temple. This day, the Order of Mercy became more than a set of plans. It would begin its life as a living, breathing opposition group. If she were honest with herself, Fleur had to admit she was more than a little frightened. Not for her own safety, but for all of those who would be placing their lives in her hands. Her comrades, the Muggle-borns she was sending into hiding. What if she was unequal to the task she had set for herself? What if this was like the Tri-Wizard Tournament all over again?

Tears burnt at her eyes, but Fleur took a deep breath, blinking up at the ceiling. She would not let herself cry—there was no room for weakness. Just as there was no room for failure. When she failed as a Champion, the consequences were small. Even Gabrielle was safe despite Fleur's shortcomings (she did not allow herself to remember that she had not known that at the time). This time was different, dozens of lives—maybe hundreds—would be dependent on her, Fleur Weasley, young, stupid, naïve girl. She must be perfect.

A light tread alerted Fleur to another entering the room. The cushion beside her dipped, then a small hand was clasping hers. Fleur turned her head to peer at Audrey.

"We can do this," Audrey said without a hint of doubt in her voice.

"Zat is what I told myself when I put my name in zat blasted Cup," Fleur replied.

"Just being chosen as Champion proves what a worthy witch you are."

"Bah, tell zat to my little sister when she was trapped at zee bottom of zat damn lake."

Audrey squeezed Fleur's hand, but her voice was clipped. "The whole Tournament was idiotic. Set a group of barely qualified witches and wizards to complete ridiculous tasks for a paltry sum and eternal glory. You and Cedric and Viktor, and especially Harry, were used. This—what we are doing—is different. It matters, it's important, and moreover, you will not be going it alone this time. You have Bill, Percy, your parents, and me to stand by your side. We are not going to fail."

Fleur looked at her fierce little friend. She wondered if Audrey truly believed her words, or if she was just trying to bolster Fleur's confidence. But she could see determination burning in Audrey's brown eyes. Something like hope tentatively unfurled in Fleur's chest.

"You believe?" Fleur asked.

"I know."

"Ladies," Bill's quiet voice came from the doorway. "The sun will be up soon, time to go."

Solemnly, the two witches rose from the settee still holding hands. Audrey squeezed Fleur's hand again. With a rush of gratitude, Fleur pulled her friend into a hug, kissing each of her cheeks.

"Ugh," Audrey complained, even as she clasped Fleur tighter in her arms, "so French!"

"Merci."

They walked hand in hand to where Bill stood. He offered Audrey a small grin, ruffling her hair. She took a swipe at his hand, then skipped out the front door towards the beach. Bill took Fleur's hand and pulled her near.

"You ready?" he murmured, wrapping one arm around her shoulders.

"Oui, I am now."

The edges of the sky were turning from black to gray to pink. Bill let go of Fleur's hand and went to his friend. He took the sleeping baby from Catriona's arms. Her now empty hands wrung together as she watched over her son. Further down the beach, Percy and Audrey had their heads together. He was reviewing the spell with her, but every so often, Percy would look to the horizon, searching for his friend. It felt as though the whole world held her breath, waiting for the new day to break. Waiting for the Order of Mercy.

When Fleur could stand it no more, she went to Catriona and took the worried witch's hands in her own. "He is sleeping peacefully," she said with a nod at the baby.

A pained expression passed over Catriona's face. "I slipped him a bit of Dreamless Sleep potion," she confessed in a ragged voice. "I was so careful to give him just the smallest amount, just a few drops. I was so careful…I mean, I know that some witches do it when babies are fussy or teething, but I never thought it was safe."

"Shhh," Fleur soothed. "You are a medi-witch and his mother, you know what is best."

A harsh, near hysteric laugh erupted from Catriona's mouth. "He-he just hates to Floo or Apparate, I didn't want him to be upset by the Portkey this morning."

"It is one less zing for you to worry about. When he wakes, he will be in sunny France where my sister will want to make him into her personal baby doll and Maman will fuss over him. Even Papa will zink he is zee most charming bébé and take him to see zee sheep."

"Cheers." Catriona offered a small smile. "Truly, thank you for everything. I appreciate the chance to stay with your family and maybe be of use to the Order of Mercy, it…it feels like I'm carrying on Dougal's work in some way."

Fleur said nothing to this, her throat feeling thick. When she asked Bill to recruit Catriona's help, Fleur had only thought of the practicalities. Having a medi-witch to care for the ill or injured seemed prudent. It never occurred to Fleur that it would mean so much to Catriona to be useful, to be a part of the Order of Mercy. Fleur felt small and grateful that she could give that to this woman, her friend.

"Bill and I had a long talk last night," Catriona said. "I hope that I settled his mind a bit."

It was Fleur's turn to offer a small smile. "I am sure that it helped."

Catriona looked towards the beach. "Oh, look. There's Oliver."

Cresting the hill was Oliver Wood, his hand wrapped firmly around that of the blonde witch by his side, a trunk floating behind them.

"I should greet them," Catriona said, a genuine smile on her face. "I haven't met Oliver's girl yet."

oOo

"Your friend is here," Audrey said, pointing with her wand beyond Percy's shoulder.

Percy turned away from her, his mouth stretching tight when he saw Oliver and Katie walking down the beach hand in hand. They both looked a bit bedraggled, especially Oliver in yesterday's clothes. It was one of life's awful ironies that time only became precious when there was so little of it. That was Oliver's lot. Moments to say good-bye to his love, to his sister-in-law, to his godson, then they would be gone. Return date unspecified. It was too much, too soon, after the death of his brothers. Percy wanted to stop the clock, turn it back, change it all.

"Are you going to go to him?" Audrey asked.

Percy looked away as Oliver embraced Catriona. "No," he said and shook his head. "Oliver needs a moment."

"You were dormmates?" Audrey asked.

"Yes."

That single syllable was inadequate. Percy knew what Audrey was really asking: how did you two become friends? Nobody ever seemed to understand how studious Percy Weasley and athletic Oliver Wood could have anything in common. Percy reckoned they did seem an odd pair. They hadn't met at school, however, and maybe if they had they wouldn't be friends. Their friendship began at Platform 9¾ where they were awaiting the return of their eldest brothers. Once they were finally at school, and in the same House, it had carried on naturally. Nothing got in the way: not Quidditch, or Prefect hours, or girls. That nobody could figure out why they were friends didn't matter to Percy and Oliver.

"How many boys were in your dorm?"

Percy looked at Audrey who was grinning. "Four. Why?"

"No reason." Audrey shrugged. "Just imagining what it must've been like to live with two such single-minded individuals. You must've driven them mad."

Percy found himself laughing, and wondered how that happened on such a miserable morning. "I can't say that our dorm room was the most pleasant place to be before a Quidditch match."

"Or an exam?"

"Or an exam," he agreed.

"I have to speak to Bill," Audrey said. She laid her hand on his arm and squeezed. "Let the lovebirds know it's time, yeah?"

Over Audrey's head, Percy saw Oliver and Katie were standing in each other's embrace. He didn't want to interrupt, but Percy knew that Audrey was correct. Feeling like an executioner, Percy trudged up the sand, but stopped with his heart in his throat. Katie reached up and kissed Oliver, and Percy looked away. These two people who were just getting started were going to be ripped apart. And why? Something roiled in Percy's gut at the unfairness of it all.

Forcing himself forward, Percy cleared his throat to gain Oliver's attention. "It's time," he said.

Percy didn't wait for an answer, he didn't need to. Somewhere inside of him, Oliver would find the strength to finish what they had set out to do this day. He would send Katie to safety with Catriona and Campbell. Oliver was good at doing the right thing, no matter how much it cost him.

The sun was halfway up the sky, painting the horizon in its most majestic colors. Percy wished it would rain. Nearer the beach, Fleur was helping Catriona strap the sleeping baby into some sort of contraption across her chest. Bill and Audrey were sparring. Then Bill pointed his wand at Catriona's trunk and shrunk it. Percy knelt in the sand by the manky old sock they were using as Portkey, aware that Audrey was marching in his direction.

"Your brother is insufferable," she complained, arms crossed.

"Generally," Percy replied, and smiled up at Audrey. "Ready to do this?"

She took a deep breath, and pointed her wand at the sock. "Yes."

While Audrey performed the Portus charm, Percy watched as Oliver kissed Katie good-bye. She may have thought she was walking the rest of the way on her own, but she wasn't. Oliver's eyes followed Katie every step of the way.

"Hey, Perce," Katie said, taking the sock from Audrey. "Take care of him for me."

Percy looked at the blonde girl who had tears glittering in her eyes. "I'll do my best," he promised.

She turned away, a tear rolling down her cheek.

Then Catriona was there, and the sock turned blue. Percy went to Oliver's side, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder. Oliver's face was a mask of stoicism. No one would guess that his heart was seconds from spinning away, but Percy knew. He could see the pain in his friend's eyes. It robbed Percy of any sense of accomplishment the morning might have brought. Again, he was reminded of the cost.

The Portkey spun out of sight, those left behind were silent for a moment.

"Ladies," Bill murmured, placing an arm around Fleur and Audrey's shoulders and directing them to Shell Cottage.

"Will you be alright?" Percy asked, hand still on his friend's shoulder.

"Of course," Oliver grunted.

"It's just…it's a lot, isn't it? After your brothers' deaths in April, and now…."

Oliver shot Percy a hard glare. "They are safe, Percy. I made sure the people I love are safe."

"Yes, I reckon you have, but—"

"I didn't sleep much last night," Oliver muttered, scrubbing a hand across his eyes. "Forgive me if I was short with you, I didn't mean to be. I-I think I just need a kip and a pint. I'll be alright."

"Of course."

oOo

After their first successful mission, the members of the Order of Mercy didn't have a moment to celebrate. It was off to work, and for Percy that meant the Ministry. Once inside his office, however, Percy found concentrating on reports the last thing on his mind. His thoughts bounced from that morning's events to future bits of espionage to Oliver to Audrey. They lingered on Audrey. Still, as Thickness filed out of the office, Percy narrowed his thoughts to his immediate surroundings. He found he felt safer as he left the Ministry if he was fully alert. He was meticulous in checking off mental lists of the files he had in his briefcase, on his desk, in the secret pocket of his robes, ensuring that not a shred of evidence was left in a place that was incriminating. He focused on each person he passed, judging if their looks were suspicious, making sure his own face was pleasant and impassive. Not a detail out of place.

Working in the Minister's office gave Percy the clearance to use the Apparition points, one of the few Ministry employees still allowed to do so. Within minutes he was in the alley near his flat. His mind turned again to more pleasant thoughts. It was 6 o'clock now, in an hour he would pick up Audrey. He couldn't suppress the smile that came to his face when he considered his upcoming date.

Merlin, where would he take her? For all of his daydreams, Percy'd given no thought to this evening, which stunned him. A million times throughout the day, he'd found himself distracted thinking about Audrey's smile or her hair or how he was going to kiss her at the end of the date that night. How could he have not actually considered what they were going to do?

Well, dinner at a wizarding restaurant seemed out of the question. Much too dangerous, even if they could find an establishment that was still open. So, maybe a Muggle restaurant. He knew of a few, unfortunately he knew about them because of Penny. Well, that couldn't be helped. Maybe he would create some new memories.

What would Audrey wear? He'd given her no indication of where they were going, how would she even know how to dress? Would she be dressed casually? Would she dress up? Maybe she would wear a frock. Merlin, he hoped she wore a frock. What should he wear?

Suddenly a thought struck Percy, and he came to an abrupt halt in the stairwell. What if she wanted to go dancing? Merlin help him, please no.

At 6:45, Percy was showered and dressed. He'd carefully chosen a pair of trousers in a light color because that seemed more relaxed than his standard black, and a white buttoned down. He'd spent ten minutes trying to decide if he should button the top button or leave it open. In the end, he'd pictured Bill, with his throat and a patch of chest exposed under a crisp shirt, and decided to leave it undone. Of course, Bill would have also left the shirt untucked, but Percy simply could not go that far.

Percy had just grabbed a smart, tweed jacket from the clothes press when he heard a knock on the door. Wand in hand, he went to the door and peered through the peephole. There, in the hall, was an obstacle he should have been expecting. What had he been thinking when he asked Audrey out for this night instead of later in the week? Oliver always told Percy he was an idiot when it came to witches.

With a sigh, Percy pulled the door open to see a rather forlorn Oliver Wood standing on the threshold.

"Hey, Perce," he mumbled. Oliver's eyes were red, as though he'd been crying.

"Uh, Oliver."

"I think I could use a drink, mate."

"You do look like you need one."

Oliver walked past Percy into the flat and sat heavily on the sofa, head in hands. "I just came from Katie's parents."

Closing the door, Percy blew out a long breath. Katie had lingered in a coma for six months after being cursed last October. Her parents and friends, including Oliver, had kept vigil the entire time. Even Percy spent a fair number of nights in Katie's hospital room, keeping Oliver company. Whilst Percy never met Mr. and Mrs. Bell, Oliver had formed something of a relationship with the older couple. Now, Oliver was forced to tell the Bells that their daughter, who had only just returned to them, was gone again. She'd become a refugee, hiding from a war that her Muggle parents knew almost nothing of.

"I reckon that must have been difficult?" Percy said.

Oliver scrubbed his face with his hands. "You should have seen their faces…. Mr. Bell was devastated, but Mrs. Bell…she was livid, Perce. I think she blames me."

"No, Ollie," Percy murmured. He sank down on the coffee table before his friend. "She's just in shock, she's distraught. Mrs. Bell will see that you did everything you could to protect Katie when she calms down."

"How can she? She doesn't understand this war or the danger that bloody Commission poses. All Mrs. Bell knows is that I sent her daughter away without warning, without a word. Dammit, I should have—"

"Stop!" Percy commanded, holding up a hand. Oliver looked up at the ginger wizard with such wounded eyes, Percy tempered his next words: "You are doing the best you can, the same as the rest of us."

"I want to marry her, Perce," Oliver confessed.

Percy clapped Oliver on the shoulder. "I know you do, and you will, when all of this is over."

"Even if her parents hate me?"

"They'll come around, Oliver. They'll see that you are protecting Katie."

Oliver threw himself back against the brown cushions of the sofa. "Let's get roaring drunk, shall we?"

"Um, I'm supposed to be meeting a friend…but you're welcome to join us."

Chapter 9

Notes:

Author's Note: The pub that Percy, Oliver, and Audrey visit is called The End Of the World, and it's a real place. However, I have no idea if it actually offers dancing. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: The world and characters belong to JK Rowling.

The door to the flat was opened by a sandy haired man who was a head shorter than Percy, and a few years older. He looked like he'd just returned from work in trousers and a buttoned down. sans robes. He also wore an expression of deep annoyance: eyebrow raised, nostrils flared, mouth pursed. This was unquestionably Seth Sprayberry.

"Gryffindors," the man muttered. "Two of them. And a Weasley and a Wood to boot. Corking."

A crease formed between Oliver's brow as he looked from Sprayberry to Percy. The ginger could only smile weakly.

"Audrey!" Sprayberry yelled, turning away from the door and striding into the lounge. "Your latest attempt to drive Mother into an early grave is at the door."

Percy and Oliver were left standing on the threshold, exchanging bewildered looks. Percy motioned into the flat. Oliver shrugged in confusion. Were they meant to linger in the doorway like vagrants? By consensus, Percy and Oliver stepped in, closing the door behind them. Sprayberry was sprawled across the sofa at his leisure.

"Well, then, I'm Percy Weasley."

Sprayberry lifted that eyebrow again, as if to say, I couldn't give a shit.

"And this is my friend, Oliver Wood."

Sprayberry did soften when he looked at Oliver. From the corner of his eye, Percy could see his friend stiffen, preparing himself for what was about to come. It had become a familiar routine in the months since Dougal and Fergus died. Everybody wanted to extend their condolences, which just brought on a fresh wave of grief. It was no wonder Mrs. Wood hardly left the house these days.

"I was sorry to hear about your brothers," Sprayberry said seriously. "I didn't know either of them well, but we played against each other in Quidditch."

"You a Seeker?" Oliver asked instead of dwelling on his brothers' deaths. Percy was always amused—and sometimes grateful—that Oliver could turn any conversation in a new direction through Quidditch.

"Yes," Sprayberry said. "Sixth and seventh year, after my brother, Brian, left. I was no match for Charlie Weasley though. Audrey would have made a brilliant Seeker—if we could have got her to focus."

"Well, focus is essential," Oliver muttered. He shoved his hands in his pockets and shot Percy a curious glance.

However, Percy paid him no mind. He was too busy pondering the exchange that had just occurred. Sprayberry said Charlie's name as if he had no connection whatsoever to Percy. He pushed his glasses up, concentrating on keeping his face impassive. Meanwhile, Percy wondered what that meant. Was Sprayberry passing judgment on Percy's estrangement from his family? Or was it simply a slight against the man who was taking out his baby sister?

"So, which one of you does Audrey fancy at the moment?" Sprayberry said, the acid back in his voice. "I'm guessing it's you, Weasley. She's not much for a Quaffle-head. Besides, a Weasley's much more likely to drive Mother mad than a Wood."

"Quit being so horrid, Seth."

All three men looked to the small woman standing by the bathroom door. She was wearing a denim skirt that only came to mid-thigh, a tight Muggle top that read "Sex Pistols" across the chest, and a black cardigan over it. When she put her tiny hands on her slim hips, a fraction of midriff was exposed. Percy swallowed hard.

"Go change!" Sprayberry demanded.

"I'm not a child," Audrey snapped. "And even if I was, you couldn't tell me what to do. You're my big brother, not my father."

"When can I expect you home?" Sprayberry shot back, crossing his arms.

"Sometime tomorrow morning, most likely."

All three men turned red at the implication. Percy glanced at Sprayberry, a blood vessel throbbed in his forehead—Merlin, the man might have an aneurism any moment. Beside Percy, Oliver had his head cocked as he looked at Audrey with sharp eyes. He switched his attention to Percy, giving him a little shove, which still made Percy stumble a few steps.

"Uh, I'll have her in by, um, midnight?" Percy told Sprayberry who still looked as if he wanted to strangle the ginger wizard, and hex his sister for good measure.

"Five a.m. at the earliest," Audrey corrected.

She marched across the room and slipped her arm through Percy's. Audrey was looking up at him with a mixture of determination, satisfaction, and amusement. The little minx had both her brother and Percy off kilter, and she was enjoying it a little too much. Percy was suddenly overcome with an intense desire to kiss her senseless. It took all his will power not to grab her by the waist and back her into a wall where he could press his body against hers.

His thoughts had a blush burning up his neck.

Audrey looked up at Oliver, then back at Percy in confusion. "So, is this a double date then?" She glanced at Oliver's face again. The big man might be smiling, but there was something wounded in his eyes. She placed a hand on Oliver's arm. "Well, not quite."

"Shall we?" Percy said, eager to get out of the flat before Sprayberry really did hex him.

Audrey pulled her wand from her pocket and summoned her purse. "Don't wait up," she sing-songed as Percy led her and Oliver out the door.

"You're moving in with Brian next week," Sprayberry yelled after her.

Once the door was closed, Audrey looked up at Percy with one eyebrow cocked, reminding him of her brother. "So I know I told you to wear something with a lion on it, but bringing a whole other Gryffindor is above and beyond. You, Percy Weasley, are an overachiever."

Oliver snorted. "That's an understatement."

"And you," Percy said, ignoring his best mate, "are a brat."

"Thank Merlin I don't have any sisters," Oliver muttered.

oOo

Audrey walked down the London sidewalk arm-in-arm between Percy and Oliver. They were ridiculously tall blokes, and Oliver was as broad as both she and Percy put together. She could only muse that the three of them must present a curious site: she in her mini-skirt, Oliver in track pants and a Puddlemere United t-shirt, and Percy…. Well, Percy looked like their dad in his tweed jacket.

"There it is," Oliver said, pointing at a brick front building across the street. "The World's End."

The World's End was a Muggle pub in London that Oliver claimed served a banging good fish 'n chips. Audrey rather thought the morbid name was the allure to the dark-haired wizard. She didn't care either way, though she hoped there would be dancing. She looked up at Percy, wondering if he danced. She could imagine him doing a lovely waltz, a passable foxtrot, but could he shake his arse? And how drunk would she have to get him to find out?

Just as these thoughts passed through her mind, Percy looked down at Audrey. She sent him a big grin, and he blushed. One of his long arms curled around her waist, pulling her near as Oliver stepped ahead into the packed pub. The buzz of voices and music hit Audrey's ear even before she was inside. Seeing the crush in the entry, Percy's arm tightened around her protectively. With another glance up at Percy, she let him guide her into the pub. They followed in Oliver's wake, the crowd parting before the burly Quidditch player. He was a useful bloke to have around.

Percy stooped down, pressing his lips against her ear so he could be heard, "What's a sex pistol?"

"A—um—you know punk band," Audrey shouted back with a pointed look at the crowd around them.

"Oh. I thought perhaps it was a sexual position you would expect me to know."

Audrey froze, but Percy grabbed her hand and tugged her into a booth beside him. Once they were seated, he looked at her through hooded eyes, a smirk on his face. She couldn't help but return his smirk, even though what she really wanted to do was kiss him. But not in front of Oliver. Maybe it wasn't Percy she needed to get drunk. She sneaked a look at the hulking athlete across the table. Merlin's pants, how many drinks would it take to get that great lunk intoxicated?

One good thing about having Oliver about was that it meant Audrey could sit right next to Percy in the booth, her thigh brushing his. She could just imagine what it would have been like, just the two of them, sitting properly across from one another making small talk. With Oliver along, it felt less like a first date and more like friends out for a drink. As long as she was kissing the right Gryffindor at the end of the night, what did she care if there was a third wheel?

"So," Oliver said, leaning his arms on the table, "Percy, when you said you were meeting a friend, did you leave out one important detail?"

Audrey watched in fascination as a blush crept up Percy's neck. It seemed that all of his blushes started just below his collar and worked their way up his neck to his ears and spread across his face. She was suddenly struck with the desire to trace her fingers along his skin and follow the heat up his neck.

"Er, like what?" Percy hedged.

Oliver rolled his eyes. "Let's commence with the drinking portion of the evening, shall we? I'll buy first round, what will it be?"

Percy leaned in and said in hushed tones, "Do you have Muggle money?"

"Quit fussing at me, Mother. Yes, I have Muggle money, why do you think I offered to pay?" Oliver looked at Audrey and offered her a cheeky grin. "If I'd known we were going on a date I would have dressed nicer."

Audrey laughed.

"Well, you could put on a pair of trousers with an actual waistband," Percy said. "If I see you in a track suit one more time, I'll start to worry for your mental health."

Oliver made a rude gesture. "Guinness for you, then, Perce?"

"I'll have a sex on a beach," Audrey piped up with a broad grin. "I've always wanted to try that."

"I'll bet," Oliver muttered, with a glance at Percy's red face. "Is that a real drink? Or am I going to get busted in the nose?"

"It's a real drink," Audrey assured him with a giggle.

"Alright, but if I have to hex the barman, you are responsible for performing the Obliviate charms."

He offered to place their dinner orders, as well, and then Oliver was gone, leaving Audrey alone with Percy for the first time since that morning on the porch at Shell Cottage. She turned her whole body towards the man beside her in the wide booth, tucking her legs under her. Percy shifted so that his body was also angled towards hers. He looked at her hands resting in her lap, a furrow forming on his brow as if he were giving something serious thought. Suddenly, his face cleared, and he grabbed her hand. His long, cool fingers wrapped around her small ones, his thumb stroking the back of her hand.

"I'm sorry about Oliver…" he started, his mouth pursing.

Audrey shrugged. "I don't mind. I remember how upset he looked this morning on the beach."

"Yes, well, one more blow after so many. If I were a better friend, I'd have realized that he'd need my support tonight."

"Don't," Audrey said seriously.

Percy looked up in surprise at her tone. Truly, Audrey was surprised herself. She didn't like listening to Percy run himself down. He'd brought his distraught friend out rather than abandoning him, even though it meant that it rather mucked up their date. Actually, Audrey thought it spoke well of Percy, even if he was going about all of this rather awkwardly.

Overwhelmed by her thoughts, Audrey looked down at their hands. She shifted hers within his larger one so that his long fingers were interwoven with her small ones, her palm flush against his. It looked so intimate, the way their hands were linked. Magic vibrated under her skin where it met his, sparks of energy shot up her arm. She tried to pull away, but Percy's fingers tightened around hers.

"They fit."

Audrey looked up, her eyes round and a bit confused. She had to lean into him to hear his soft words over the buzz of the pub. "What did you say?"

"Your hand in mine," he said close to her ear. "It fits just right."

Their faces were so near, it would take less than the flick of a wand to reach up and press her lips to his, but she didn't. Audrey didn't want to kiss Percy, she wanted him to kiss her. She wanted him to dip his head down to hers, she wanted to feel his breath on her cheek and the brush of his lips on hers, and she wanted to know what he tasted like. Her lips parted in anticipation, but Percy didn't kiss her. He pressed one finger against her mouth and grinned knowingly, his brown eyes sparkling behind his glasses.

The thunk of glass against the table startled Audrey out of her trance. She felt herself blush hotly, and cursed that betraying sign as she turned back to the table. Oliver had returned with their drinks. Hers was a dusky pink color adorned with a slice of pineapple, two cherries, and an umbrella. She pulled the cherries out, their juices slick on her fingers. Looking at Percy, she popped one into her mouth, chewing slowly as he watched, his eyes growing dark and his cheeks turning red. She offered him the other. Instead of taking it from her hand in proper fashion, he leaned forward and took the small, red fruit between his teeth, grazing her fingers. Little electric shocks tingled up Audrey's arm, her mouth a perfect "O" as she watched his Adam's apple bob when he swallowed the cherry. Without thinking, Audrey stuck her fingers in her mouth and sucked the cherry juice off.

"Bloody hell," Oliver muttered. "I'm switching to Scotch."

Percy glanced across the table, frowning. "Sorry, mate."

"Aye, well, this was supposed to be a date, wasn't it? I'm the one in the way."

"No!" Percy cried, shaking his head.

The light, flirtatious mood evaporated. Instead, they were stewing in grief and regret, but neither man was going to put voice to those emotions. Audrey looked from Percy to Oliver, who were avoiding looking at each other. She suspected that Percy and Oliver were the kind of loutish males who preferred to deny owning feelings of any kind, but especially hurtful ones—no matter how absurd that was. That morning on the beach, Audrey had seen two men capable of deep loving and concern. Oliver was obviously a man in love. He'd been tender with Katie Bell, taking advantage of every last moment they had together. And Percy was sensitive and considerate of his friend's pain.

"So," Audrey said. "If I weren't here, would the two of you grunt at each other and scratch your arses?"

Percy choked on his foul-looking drink.

"Aye," Oliver said, smiling a bit. "We'd beat our chests, too."

"Delightful. Nothing says 'real man' like emotional repression." Audrey reached over and rubbed Percy's chest. "I hope you don't beat it too hard, I'd hate for you to bruise all that pasty, ginger skin."

Percy gaped at her, but Oliver laughed.

"Oliver and I—We—Friends—Don't need to talk—" Percy spluttered, pushing his glasses up.

"Well, of course you don't need to talk about feelings, those are things girls have."

To Audrey's satisfaction, Oliver's eyebrows shot up and he looked quizzically at Percy, who only shrugged. It was fascinating really, for they did seem to be conducting an entire conversation through body language alone. They really were a pair of Neanderthals.

"I reckon I feel like shite," Oliver admitted and held up his own glass of mud-colored alcohol. "Thus the drinking."

"It must feel like your heart's been ripped from your chest," Audrey said softly, cocking her head to the side.

"Aye. Well. Feeling like shite sounds more manly." He set his glass down and looked away.

"Oliver and Katie just got together," Percy said. "About the same time his brothers…."

"After Katie came out of the coma," Oliver said forcefully.

"I remember reading about that," Audrey said. "A cursed necklace, wasn't it?"

"She almost died," Oliver muttered, taking a long draught of his drink.

Audrey placed her hand over his fist where it lay on the table. For a moment, Oliver remained unmoving, then he pulled his hand away. Beside her, Percy laid his arm across the back of the booth and shifted restlessly. It was obvious that Oliver was heartbroken, but none of them knew what to do about it.

"Well," Audrey said at last. "You like blondes then?"

Oliver looked up.

"Actually, Ollie prefers girls with—" Percy held his hands five inches from his chest.

"That's not true. I don't love Katie for her—" Oliver stopped, looked at Audrey and blushed.

Percy laughed. "No? When was the first time you noticed her, and not for her Quidditch skills?"

Oliver turned even redder.

"Oh!" Audrey clapped her hands. "Tell me!"

"It was Katie's birthday party. Fifteen, right?"

Oliver chucked a wadded up paper napkin at Percy's head.

He swatted it away. "She was wearing this dress…tight and low cut—"

"I just hadn't noticed she'd, you know, grown up," Oliver mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Until you saw that she had breasts?" Audrey pressed, grinning.

"Should we discuss what a prat Percy is when it comes to women?"

Percy turned bright red, but he was saved by the arrival of dinner. The fish 'n chips smelled heavenly, with a wondrous coating of grease. As the waitress walked away, Oliver looked up at Audrey, giving her a half smile. It was a signal of sorts, Audrey guessed, that there were no hard feelings. Feeling a bit cozy, and not wishing to speak of her own emotions, Audrey guzzled her drink, which went straight to her head. Now delightfully fuzzy-headed, she turned a big smile on Percy, who blinked in its radiance. She demanded that he lose his jacket lest he slop supper all over it. Rising up on her knees, Audrey proceeded to push it off his shoulders. He laughed and finished the job himself.

"There," Audrey said with satisfaction, running her hand over the crisp material of his sleeve. "Much better."

Another round of drinks was delivered to the tables. Audrey had asked for a slippery nipple this time, which made both men laugh and groan. Before she could fish the cherries out, they rose from the glass and floated into Oliver's open palm. His wand must be under the table, carefully out of sight, which amused Audrey to no end. Especially when he flashed her that cheeky grin again.

"Oliver!" Percy admonished.

"What?" he shot back. "I wasn't going to be witness to another cherry eating contest."

"You could have been seen."

"And the whole sodding pub would think they'd had too much to drink." Oliver plopped the cherries in his mouth.

Audrey giggled, her head felt bubbly. "What is so great about Guinness, then?"

She eyed the drink sitting before Percy. It was approximately the color of mud with a muck-colored froth at the top. Percy had just taken a drink, looking at her over the rim of the glass.

"Just Ireland's finest export," he said. He offered her the glass. "Would you like a try?"

Taking the glass, she carefully drank from the same spot he had. A foul, bitter taste filled her mouth and slid down her throat. She leaned away from the offending drink, scrunching up her face in disgust. Percy laughed, and drew his finger across her top lip.

"Foam," he said, with a shrug.

"That's disgusting," she croaked, wiping her arm across her mouth for good measure.

"It's an acquired taste."

BANG! Screeeech!

The lights dimmed. Audrey's heart raced. She fumbled with her purse, trying to get her wand out, but her hands were shaking too badly. Oliver stood, looking around, alert for terror. Lights throbbed—white, red, green—and flashed. Audrey waited for the screaming to begin, but the low roar of pub chatter continued unabated. Then Percy's arm was around her shoulders, pulling her near.

"Look," he said, motioning to where the crush of bodies was parting across the taproom. "The Muggles are making the lights with some sort of machine. It's not spell fire."

Audrey watched as a space was cleared, and the noise became recognizable as music, the lights pulsating in time with the beat. Slowly, couples and groups began dancing on the newly created dance floor. Audrey's shoulders slumped, her body collapsing into Percy's for support. She felt foolish, until she noticed Oliver tucking his wand away without a word of recrimination from Percy.

"Maybe we should go," Percy said.

"No," Audrey replied, she sat up so she could look at him. She suddenly felt determined not to let fear or Death Eaters—real or imagined—ruin her night. "They're dancing, let's dance."

"No," Percy protested, shaking his head, "no, no, no."

Audrey grabbed his hands and tugged him out of the booth. "C'mon, Gryffindor, you're not chicken are you?"

"I don't dance." He looked to Oliver for help, but the dark-haired wizard just raised his glass in salute before downing it in one go.

Audrey stripped her sweater off, her arms now bare, and propped her fists on her hips expectantly.

"I'll step on your toes," Percy insisted.

Audrey looked out at the gyrating couples on the dance floor and back up at the tall man before her. "It's not your feet you have to move, now are you coming or not?"

oOo

Watching Audrey walk away from him, hips swaying invitingly, Percy found himself paralyzed with his mouth agape.

"I'd move if I were you," Oliver said. He scowled at the bar. "I think I'm just going to buy a damn bottle, I'm getting tired of making the trek to the bar and back. How much do you reckon that costs?"

Audrey's small frame just then slipped out of sight, which finally spurred Percy into action. He scrambled in the direction she had gone, using his superior height to spy her in the crowd. She was already on the dance floor with her back to him, arms lifted above her head and her hips moving in the most sinful way he'd ever seen. Dammit! Percy wasn't the only one to notice. Some stocky bloke had sidled up next to Audrey, shaking his hips and placing his hand on her waist.

"Excuse me," Percy said with a glower at the shorter man. Percy's arm snaked around Audrey's middle, his hand splayed across her belly, and yanked her back against his chest. "If you don't mind, I'll just claim this dance with my date."

Not sparing the other man a second thought, Percy looked down at Audrey. She was smiling that wicked little smile and she began moving her hips again, brushing her bottom against him. Percy felt his blood surge into his groin. Emboldened, he began moving his own hips, and the friction was enough to make his mind go completely blank.

Audrey turned in his arms. "Look, Percy," she shouted with a smile, "your shirt is glowing."

He looked down at his white shirt, and, sure enough, it glowed brightly against the dark dance floor and pulsating lights. "How did that happen?"

"The lights, maybe?"

Percy's first thought had been a charm, but of course it was the lights. He could see now other people's white clothes glowing as well, and laughed. What fantastic magic! He couldn't imagine how they did it. His father would think this was incredible.

And then he forgot everything else because Audrey was pressed against him and his thigh was between hers and their hips were grinding against each other. Her arms went around his neck making him stoop down, closer to her height. He placed his hands low on her back, just above her bottom that was swaying enticingly. Merlin, his hands itched to move down and cup that bottom, pull her closer to his hips.

The urge to kiss her became overwhelming. Percy had planned to wait until the end of the night. Do it properly on her doorstep. He was going to keep it chaste and hope he left her wanting more so that when he asked for another date—a real one—she would be eager to say yes. He wanted to tease her and drag it out. That was the plan.

To hell with the plan.

Percy was bending to capture her upturned lips with his when a hand on his shoulder wrenched him away and spun him around.

Chapter 10

"I saw 'er first."

Percy vaguely recognized the stocky man before him as the bloke who was trying to dance with Audrey before. "Excuse me?"

There were two other equally stocky men standing behind the first. "I said, I saw 'er first."

"You mean Audrey?" Percy asked, the absurdity of the statement dawning on him. "Well, first of all, she's not a piece of property that you can call dibs on. And second, she came with me."

"She was dancing with me."

Percy pushed his glasses up. He used long practiced skills to keep from saying the first thing to come to mind. Which happened to be: sod off, you ruddy Neanderthal.

"And now she's dancing with me," Percy said instead, he began to turn back to Audrey. "Good evening, gentlemen."

The hand was on his shoulder again, whipping him around. Percy ducked the fist coming at him, sinking his own in his assailant's hard stomach. Bloody hell, what had he just done! The man grunted, doubling slightly. Percy shook out his throbbing hand. This was bloody stupid. Paradoxically, a thrill shot up Percy's spine, all of his nerve endings tingling. A grin spread across his face even as he heard Audrey scream.

Ha, he thought, I don't have five brothers for nothing.

"Percy! Watch out!"

A fist landed squarely on Percy's jaw, knocking him to the ground. Percy saw stars, then Audrey's worried face hovering over his. It felt as though every tooth in his skull had rattled loose. He shook his head to clear it. It didn't quite work, but he scrambled to his feet anyway. He'd brawled with his brothers enough to know better than to leave himself open to attack.

"Get back!" he shouted at Audrey, putting himself between her and the three blokes.

"Are you mad?" Her small hands were clutching his shoulders, trying to pull him away.

The first rush of adrenaline was clearing, and Percy was beginning to take stock of his surroundings. The pounding music, the pulsing lights, his own hammering heartbeat. The other dancers stopped gyrating, spreading out in a semi-circle around the brawlers. Merlin's pants, Percy was involved in a pub brawl. Soon, Percy knew, security would descend on them. He, Percy Weasley, was going to get arrested. Well, he just hoped that he didn't get the hell beat out of him first.

The man who had been dancing with Audrey was advancing on Percy again. The others were hanging back, but they were obviously ready to jump in if Percy proved more of a fight than he appeared. Audrey was still at his back. He needed to get her out of here before she was hurt. Dammit, he'd love to just pull out his wand right now and take care of this whole unfortunate business with a well-placed hex.

The next moments were a blur. Audrey yelped, her hands falling away from Percy's shoulders. Another fist rushed at Percy's face, but he dodged out of the way. Fights were breaking out around them, screams and shouts overtaking the blaring music. Then Oliver was there with a roar, his fist planted in the shorter man's face. He went down like a sack of potatoes, blood spurting from his nose.

Oliver looked like an enraged bull, heaving chest, wide stance, broad shoulders squared. The other two men rushed at the dark haired wizard. Percy tackled one of them to the ground. He was scrambling to his knees, pulling his own fist back when he felt a hand around his collar, yanking him up. The next thing Percy knew was the sucking sensation of Disapparition.

The landing was rough. Percy pitched forward, sprawling across the grass, a small body crashing into his. With adrenaline still surging in his veins, he rolled onto his back, ready to jump up and defend himself. But once he was lying face up, he realized the body half on top of his was Audrey's. She was staring at him with wide, startled eyes. Her face was very pale in the moonlight. Still, new hormones were pumping through his body eager for a much more pleasurable release.

"Well, this is some first date," came Oliver's deep brogue, followed by a hearty chuckle. He was still standing, hands on his hips, and looking cheerier than he had all night. "The last pub fight I was in was right after Hogwarts, I was with Dougal and Fergus. Merlin's beard, I thought Catriona was going to castrate the lot of us that night."

For a moment Percy wondered at his best mate's mental state if he obviously considered a pub fight a lovely memory. His head dropped back, bouncing on the ground, and Percy immediately wished he hadn't done that when a stabbing pain shot through the back of his skull. He would have rubbed it, but Audrey's head came to rest on his chest and he could feel her fast breaths against his side. He wrapped one arm around her, savoring the weight of her body on his. He immediately forgot about the pain in his head and began wishing that Oliver wasn't there.

"Never thought I'd get into something like that with the Head Boy, though," Oliver continued.

Well, Percy had heard quite enough of that. Time to change the subject.

"Did you Disapparate us?" Percy asked once his breathing slowed.

"I did," Audrey said, her voice muffled by his chest. "Oliver had the presence of mind to bring my purse when he came to our rescue."

"Oi! I was handling things just fine before he showed up."

Oliver snorted. "For how much longer?"

Percy didn't argue the point. He knew he had been in for a beating if Oliver hadn't shown up when he did.

Suddenly, the realization that Audrey had Disapparated them in front of a hundred or more Muggles hit Percy like cold water to the face. He stifled a gasp, though several colorful curses were rattling around in his head. By his estimation, Audrey had broken at least two laws in doing so, that could be complicated…or not. The dance floor had been chaotic at the time, and the lights certainly made perceptions murky. It could be that no one noticed that three people simply popped out of sight. If that were the case, they would be in the clear. However, if Muggle law enforcement was called in, if numerous witnesses reported that three people simply disappeared into thin air, if those reports reached the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and they most certainly would…. Percy sighed heavily.

Before the Ministry fell, a case of Misuse of Magic such as this would mean a team of Obliviators and the DMLE would be dispatched to the pub to tie up any loose ends, but now? Percy wasn't sure. The Ministry wasn't functioning as it ought to be. Different possibilities played out in his mind. The best-case scenario was that the Ministry took no notice of Audrey's use of magic and nothing came of it. However, if it did come to light, hopefully procedure would be followed. That could mean some uncomfortable questions asked, especially if the witch and wizards involved were described as a tall, ginger bloke, a pretty girl, and an ox-like Scotsman. That would narrow the field down pretty quickly; there were only so many tall, ginger blokes. Add in the spectacles and they would have Percy dead to rights.

Then there was the worst-case scenario. Alerted to the presence of wizards in a Muggle pub, the Death Eaters and their lackeys swooped in and massacred the whole lot. It was something that only months ago would have seemed an absolute impossibility to Percy, and yet now seemed all too likely. His stomach heaved as he pictured the carnage. But he pushed the image away. No, rationally, that was not going to happen. It couldn't. Not over something as small as the Misuse of Magic during a pub fight. The world had not turned that upside down and inside out, had it?

Then Percy remembered that he'd walked out on his family. His eldest brother had been maimed. His baby brother and sister had fought in battles. His best mate lost both of his brothers in one night. Just that morning, Percy had helped send the widow of a man he'd known half his life into exile. Yes, unequivocally, the world had turned that upside down.

Percy pressed a hand to his forehead and groaned. He was a fastidious person, so careful in every aspect of his life. How had this night turned into such a mess? He stroked his other hand through Audrey's soft, loose waves and had his answer. For the second time that night, he heard Oliver's voice in his head:

"For such a smart wizard, you are a complete idiot when it comes to witches."

It had been true when Percy was thirteen and Mabel Etheridge kissed him in the common room. It had been doubly true when he was fourteen and Brigit Cameron had let him touch her breasts behind that tapestry on the third floor. And it had been glaringly true about Penelope. Now, apparently, it was true of Audrey, as well, and he hadn't even kissed her yet.

"Alright, Perce, what are you thinking?" Oliver asked, coming to crouch over Percy's prone form.

Percy sat up, helping Audrey to do so as well. "Were you hurt?" he asked her.

"A few bruises, but I'll manage, thanks for asking," Oliver said.

Percy looked at his best mate, who was grinning. "Sod off, I wasn't asking about you."

Oliver laughed, but Percy ignored him.

"Audrey, I heard you yelp," Percy said, brushing her hair away from her face. "Are you alright?"

"I did?" she asked, her brow furrowing.

"Aye," Oliver said, "when I tossed your purse to you."

"Oh, well, that's because I'm not good at catching things."

"But you are unharmed?" Percy asked again, feeling as if he'd go mad if she didn't answer his question.

"I'm fine, not a scratch."

Relief broke out over Percy. He sucked in a deep breath, realizing that he had in fact stopped breathing while awaiting her answer.

"Now that's settled," Oliver said, interrupting Percy's thoughts, "tell me what you are thinking. Something's plainly worrying you."

Percy glanced at Audrey, who was staring up at him with big eyes. "Disapparating in front of all those Muggles would count as a Misuse of Magic."

"Wouldn't the Muggles have to notice the use of magic for anything to come of it?" Audrey asked.

"And even if they did, there's no way to track someone who has Disapparated," Oliver put in.

"Yes, well, you are correct," Percy agreed, pushing his glasses up. The other possibilities were still nagging at him. His rational mind was battling with the part that knew rationality no longer had any bearing on the world he lived in. He was going in circles. Yes, the chances that the DMLE would be notified were slim, but what if they were? His mind couldn't seem to let go of that possibility.

Beside him, Percy could sense Audrey relaxing. He suspected that however her nights out typically ended, they didn't normally include brawls in Muggle public rooms. This would all seem very exciting to her later, but that brush with violence had shaken her up. Regardless, while Audrey might let the topic go, Oliver was watching Percy carefully. They knew each other too well, lived in the same dormitory for too long.

"What has your knickers in a twist?" Oliver said in a low voice.

Percy sighed, reluctant to give voice to his rambling thoughts. "What if the Muggles did notice? What if they report to their authorities that three people disappeared from the dance floor? The DMLE will become involved."

"They still couldn't trace it back to us," Oliver said.

"Unless our descriptions were given," Audrey said.

Percy almost smiled, impressed at how quickly she'd come to that conclusion. "Yes, there is that. Think, Oliver, what was the first thing Audrey's brother said when he saw us?"

"'A Weasley and a Wood,'" Oliver quoted. "We stand out."

"And you are the only fully grown Wood left. My description will be narrowed down to either Bill, Ron, or myself."

"And Ron has spattergroit…" Oliver said.

"And Bill is scarred," Audrey added.

"Still, we can protect Audrey."

"Who says I need protection?"

Percy snorted. Of course Oliver's first instinct was to protect the damsel in distress. "Yes, well, getting hauled into the DMLE would be a sticky situation, but…."

Glancing down at Audrey, he now wished he'd never said anything. It was a stupid, irrational fear, but one that could infect the others easily.

"The Ministry is run by Death Eaters," Percy said. "What if—"

Audrey's eyes grew big, and she went very still by his side.

"You think that the Death Eaters might go to the pub?" Oliver asked. "For what reason?"

"Why do they ever murder Muggles, Oliver?" Percy snapped, then regretted it when he saw Oliver flinch.

"But-but I just wanted to get us out of there," Audrey said, her voice shaky. "I-I didn't think anyone would notice."

Before Percy knew what was happening, Audrey was on her feet, wand in hand. The two men hurried after her. Percy reached out with his long arms and grabbed Audrey by the shoulders, turning her towards him. Tears were streaming down her face. The breath caught painfully in Percy's chest. Merlin, he was an idiot. Why did he open his fat mouth? He should have just lied. He should never have allowed his imagination to run away from him in the first place. Anything that would keep Audrey from looking like that.

"I d-didn't want anyone to get hurt," she whimpered.

Percy pulled her against his chest, stroking her back with one hand, the other lacing through her hair. Her tears were soaking his shirt. "Shh," he soothed.

"Don't cry, Audrey," Oliver said, patting her awkwardly on the back. His voice was edging on panic. "Please, don't cry."

Percy elbowed him. "Shut it, Ollie."

"I'll go back to the pub," Oliver said briskly, gripping his wand. "I'll check things out, if there's trouble, I'll come for you. Just take her back to your flat, Percy, you'll hear from me either way."

With a pop, Oliver was gone. Audrey sniffed and pulled back to look up at Percy.

"I would offer you a handkerchief," Percy said quietly, "but it was in my jacket which seems to be lost."

"That's okay," she mumbled and wiped a tear away with her thumb.

"Why don't I take you back to my place to get cleaned up," Percy said, then thought of how that sounded. He felt the burn of a blush creep up his neck. "Um, if that's okay with you."

She sniffed. "Do you have designs on my virtue?"

"Not tonight."

"Then, no, it's not okay with me."

Percy laughed and tried to control the urge to pull her nearer. He lost the battle and tightened his arms around her. The feel of her slight body against him eased away some of his worries.

"You're a saucy minx."

Audrey snuggled closer, her hand traveling up his back slowly. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"That's how it was meant." Percy looked around, they seemed to be standing in a field or meadow, though it was too dark to be certain. "Where are we?"

"A meadow near my parents' home in Suffolk."

"At least we aren't in your bedroom."

Percy saw a flash of white and knew she was smiling. "I wasn't ready to explain to my mother why I had two Gryffindors in my room. Despite what Seth says, I'm not actually trying to kill her."

oOo

Within moments, Audrey found herself walking into Percy's flat. He placed his hand lightly on the small of her back as he guided her in. His touch burned through the fabric of her t-shirt, the tip of his little finger brushing the bare skin where her top rode up. Audrey arched her back. Once inside, Percy shut the door and set wards against it, giving Audrey the opportunity to look around. It was small and bare.

She was not unfamiliar with bachelor pads. Both of her brothers had moved out of the house as quickly as possible. Brian secretly lived with a girlfriend for a time, but otherwise they lived on their own. Audrey understood that "decorating" was a term that could only loosely be applied to a single man's home. Percy's flat, however, was devoid of anything that could be called homey or even personal. There was a brown sofa and a huge coffee table, a few stools up to a breakfast bar, and a table that seemed to function more as an office. Audrey wondered if the apartment had come furnished.

The only thing that might hint at something Percy had bought himself was the tall, cherry wood bookcase. It was heavy and old, carved with fruit and flowers that held the patina of age. It was also empty. Not one book or photo frame. Not even a paperweight.

"Blimey, Percy, do you even live here?" she blurted out.

"What? Of course I do." He was still busy casting wards against the door for good measure.

"I think you do little more than sleep here."

"I also eat here and do paperwork. What else should I do here?"

"You could start by putting a picture on the mantel or a throw blanket on the couch."

"Why would I do that?"

"It's called creature comforts." Audrey turned to him and gasped. This was the first time she'd seen him in good light since they left the pub. Percy was sporting a fat lip. Dried blood caked in the corner of his mouth and down his chin, a purple bruise blossomed across his jaw. There were even splatters of red on his otherwise pristine white shirt. Audrey pressed a hand to her head, feeling woozy.

"Whoa," Percy exclaimed. His arms came around her shoulders. "Are you going to faint?"

"No, no…maybe."

"Close your eyes."

Audrey did as she was told, but now that she was aware of it, the coppery scent of blood was overwhelming. Her stomach heaved. Audrey made a mewling sound. Merlin, this was humiliating.

Eyes still firmly shut, Audrey allowed Percy to shuffle her across the room. The next thing she knew, she was sitting on the sofa. Percy was making soft shushing noises that somehow made her want to laugh despite the nausea.

"I'll just go clean this up then," Percy said, hovering over her. "I'll try to heal it, then there will be nothing to worry about."

Audrey cracked an eye open. "You can heal yourself?"

"Well, I don't know, truthfully. I've never done it before, but Oliver can, so surely I can, too."

"He can?"

"Yes, Oliver claims that any Quidditch player with half a brain can heal minor injuries," Percy said, his voice reminded Audrey of Professor Vector during lecture. "And by 'minor,' Oliver means broken fingers and busted noses. But what it's really all about is that the bloody prats are more afraid of the team Healers than they are of being hit in the face with a Bludger."

Audrey laughed, then chanced opening her eyes. Her stomach seemed to stay put.

"Sit down," she instructed, pointing at the overlarge coffee table. "I'll fix you up."

Percy was wringing his hands, his eyes brows furrowed. "Are you sure? You look a bit green."

"I'll take deep breaths."

Hesitantly, Percy sat on the coffee table before her. Audrey used her wand to syphon off the blood. The absence of blood would surely help the situation. Although, the sight of it being drawn into her wand was making her stomach roll dangerously. She took a deep breath.

"You don't have to do this," Percy said, his voice little more than a whisper.

"I can do it."

The blood was gone. Her shaking hand went to move her wand closer to his face, but Percy caught her hand in his.

"You don't have to," he repeated.

"I can do it."

A smile came to his face, then he winced as the action pulled at his injury. He released her hand. Audrey couldn't say that she saw trust in Percy's eyes, but there was admiration there. She could be stubborn, it was true. Her siblings, and especially her mother, had lamented her great flaw many times while growing up. Even at school, poor Flitwick had seemed at a loss the few times he'd been faced with her stubbornness. Once, McGonagall had told her that tenacity was a good thing in a witch. That was the closest anyone had ever come to praising her. But the look in Percy's eyes made her feel proud of who she was. It made her even more determined to see this through.

Pressing the tip of her wand gently to his mouth, Audrey closed her eyes.

"Um, shouldn't your eyes be open?" Percy asked, a hint of humor in his voice.

"Shh, I have to visualize the injured body part as it should be healthy."

"You can't do that with your eyes open?"

"Are you worried?"

"Well, yes, if you must know."

"Do you want your lip fixed or not, Gryffindor?"

"Not, I think."

Audrey opened her eyes just to give him a dirty look. "Just for that, I am going to visualize your lips sealed shut."

"Alright, alright!" He held his hands up.

Audrey shut her eyes again.

"Audrey," Percy murmured, "visualize my lips on yours."

Her eyes popped open. "Now?"

He shook his head, smirking at her. "Not yet."

"I hope this hurts like hell then," Audrey growled.

She cast the spell and watched as the injury healed within seconds, knowing exactly how that stung from the numerous times her mother or Madam Pomfrey had fixed her up. A smirk graced her own lips.

"Bloody hell," Percy swore, grabbing his lip.

"You're a big baby." She poked his chest with her wand harder than necessary and Scourgified the blood off his shirt.

Percy pushed her wand away. "Could you wait until I took it off, at least? It feels like I'm being attacked by one of Filtch's scrub brushes."

"Cry baby."

"Brat."

Audrey's eyes flashed. "Insufferable."

"Tease."

"Me? Oh, no, Percy Weasley, I am no tease. You, sir, are a tease."

"Oh, this from a girl who ordered a slippery nipple as innocently as if it were milk with tea."

"And I'd let you see my nipples right now if you weren't such a prude."

To Audrey's satisfaction, Percy's eyes darkened. They even dipped down to stare at her breasts. With a small flick of her wand, her red bra strap "chose" that moment to slide off her shoulder and hang loosely against her upper arm. Percy gulped, his hands curling into fists. Would she let him see her breasts tonight? Maybe.

Why not? She'd done more on less acquaintance. The boys Audrey knew at Hogwarts paid little attention to her, unless it was to take the mickey over her small breasts or poor scores. The men she'd met since didn't mind her slim figure. In fact, many of them were more than willing to help her explore it. If Audrey was honest with herself, being the center of that kind of attention was as overwhelming as it was exciting. It took a lot of bravado to bluster her way through a flirtation, but it was worth it. She wanted to explore all the pleasurable things men and women did to each other, but she didn't want the heartbreak of a relationship. She knew what it felt like to be invisible in the eyes of someone you cared for—she wasn't interested in playing that out in her love life.

Then there was Percy. He was something altogether different. That both thrilled her and scared her. Maybe it was because he was her schoolgirl crush who finally noticed her that made her stomach do excited little flips whenever he smiled at her. Maybe it was the passion in his eyes when he looked at her that made her skin tighten. He wanted her, she could tell, and she wanted him in return. This thing that burned between them, it was simply the heat of mutual attraction that gave it such intensity, nothing more.

Percy's eyes traveled from her bra strap, up her arm to her face. There was that passion again. Audrey shivered.

"Are you cold?" he asked, his voice rough.

"Mmm, yes, a bit."

Percy stood. "I'll just see if I can find you a blanket…or something."

He walked around the coffee table to a room that Audrey presumed was his bedroom. Deciding to follow—though she was pretty sure he had not intended her to do so—she found a room that was as sparse as the rest of the flat. It was bigger than she would have guessed, with a hearth on one wall that filled Audrey's mind with all sorts of images of shagging in front of a cozy fire.

"Do you have a jumper?" Audrey asked and watched as he jumped.

Percy turned. "Audrey…I didn't realize…."

"I mean all Weasley's have jumpers right? That's your thing, as a family."

"Er, yes, I reckon so. But it's been a few years since I got a new jumper."

Audrey opened the clothes press. It was another old and ornate piece of furniture in cherry wood. Inside, it was much larger than its dimensions suggested. In fact, she could crawl inside and dig around to the back. She looked at Percy over her shoulder and smiled.

"Is this your magic?"

"Yes, indeed. I found that at a Muggle shop in London after I moved here."

"The bookcase, too?"

"Yes, they came from the same shop," he said with a shrug. "Cost a bloody fortune."

"They're beautiful, though."

Percy shrugged again. Audrey reckoned that men could only talk about furniture for so long before they ran out of things to say. She considered her own purchases for the tiny flat she used to live in. The only thing she could ever afford to buy was an old, green velvet chair that sagged in the middle. Still, it was a good reading chair.

Audrey boosted herself up and into the clothes press.

"Er, what are you doing?" Percy asked.

On her hands and knees with her arse poked up in the air and a fair amount of thigh on display, Audrey looked at Percy over her shoulder and offered him the innocent smile she used on her parents. Percy was red in the face and his eyes were on her legs. Resisting the urge to wiggle her arse, Audrey was sure of two things: first, Percy couldn't really see anything. Second, he imagined that he could. That was a good start.

"I have an inkling that if I dig around to the back I'll find a jumper," she said.

Percy made a strangled noise in his throat. "I think you are trying to drive me mad," he muttered.

Withdrawing his wand from his pocket, he pointed it at the clothes press. A moment later, two boxes slid to the foreground. Climbing down, Audrey opened one of the boxes. Like the clothes press, the box was much bigger on the inside than it should have been. This one was full of books, bundles of letters tied with blue ribbon, and rolls of parchment. Sitting on top was his Head Boy badge looking a bit tarnished. There was even a Gryffindor banner. Somehow, she had not imagined him with so much house pride.

"The jumpers are in this one," he said. He opened up the box in front of him. A pinched look came over his face for a moment before he wiped it clear and stepped away from the box.

Moving to the other box, Audrey saw there were stacks of hand-knitted jumpers in various shades of pale blue. She wondered if that was Percy's favorite because that was not the color she would choose for him. With his fiery hair and brown eyes, she would have picked chocolate brown or maybe hunter green. There was something familiar about the smell of it, like cinnamon and grass. She'd only been at the Burrow for the wedding, but instantly, Audrey knew this was the smell of his home.

"My parent's home smells like old books and parchment," she blurted out, glancing at him quickly.

"My home always smells like good things baking in the oven," he said roughly. "Even when Mum's not making anything."

Audrey dug to the bottom of the box and pulled out a sky blue jumper with a white "P" in the middle of it. She pulled it over her head and stuck her arms into the sleeves. It fit perfectly, except that the sleeves hung past her fingertips.

Percy smirked at her. "That's the one she made me the year I was twelve. I always hated that jumper." He took her arm and folded the sleeves back. "It looks better on you."

"So, I'm the size of a twelve-year-old boy?"

He looked into her eyes and smiled. "But much sexier."

"I should hope."

Percy cleared his throat. "Are you thirsty? I could make tea."

Clumsily, Percy backed away, then turned on his heel to walk to the door. He motioned through it, not meeting Audrey' eye. She slipped past, careful not to touch him. As much fun as it was to push Percy to the edge of his comfort level, Audrey knew she'd gone as far as she should. It was Percy's turn to make a move in her direction. Somehow, she knew that he had to do that in his own time. She wondered how long that would take and why she felt so patient.

In the kitchen, Audrey boosted herself up on the worktop while Percy put the kettle on. She was rather gladdened to see that he did indeed own a pair of mugs and the makings for tea. Perhaps he wasn't as hopeless as she feared. He made her a cup, smiling when she requested four heaping spoonfuls of sugar, then placed the steaming mug in her hands, his long fingers grazing her shorter ones. Audrey offered him a small smile and his eyes slid away from hers. Leaning with his back against the worktop—near her, but with a careful distance—Percy sipped his tea.

Irresistibly, Audrey reached out and stroked her fingers lightly through his curls. They were springy, but soft. She thought maybe she could lose her fingers in there. Then he reached up, and captured her hand. For long moments, they sat in silence, her hand in his. Audrey felt shy and content, and she liked that feeling. Maybe a little too much.

Just as she was contemplating what outrageous thing to say next, there was a knock at the door.

"That'll be Oliver," Percy said, moving from his spot against the worktop. Even as he said the words, he pulled his wand out.

Pulling her own wand, Audrey followed him. Percy was standing at the ready—stance wide, wand raised—before the door. He demanded to know who it was, and Audrey heard Oliver's answering response.

"What was the first Playwizard we looked at?"

"Third year, after Christmas break," came Oliver's brogue. "I stole it from Fergus because all of the witches in Dougal's magazines were charmed to look like Catriona."

With a swish of Percy's wand, the door swung open. Percy was laughing, and Oliver looked a bit embarrassed. He turned even redder when he saw Audrey standing behind Percy with a grin. Muttering under his breath, Oliver punched Percy in the arm. Audrey could tell it was meant to be a light punch, but Percy winced and rubbed his arm.

Oliver slammed the door shut. "Of all the questions you could have asked….Prat."

Percy recast the wards against the door, still laughing.

"You are a bad influence," Oliver said, shaking his finger at Audrey.

"Alright," Percy said, his smile fading. "What happened at the pub?"

"No massacre," Oliver said. "A few people were being led away by…what do you call Muggle Aurors?"

"Bobbies," Audrey supplied.

"Really?" Percy asked, looking at her. "That's an odd name."

"I think it's a slang name," she replied with a shrug. "They're police officers."

"Well, there were a few people under arrest," Oliver continued. "Mostly, the crowd was being dispersed into the city. I didn't see any wizards or witches who looked as if they were trying to blend in, and I couldn't feel any magic being used. I think we're safe."

Percy blew out a breath. "I was overreacting. I've never been so glad to have jumped to the wrong conclusions."

Relief flooded through Audrey as well. For all the playfulness of the last hour or so, she realized how tense she'd been under the surface. She hugged Oliver's neck. He patted her back with surprising gentleness, though awkwardly. When she released the dark-haired wizard, Audrey turned to Percy. She would have thrown her arms around him too, but hesitated a moment.

Percy took her hand. "It's after midnight, I told your brother I'd have you home."

"He's neither my keeper, nor my father," Audrey protested, though with less conviction than she normally would.

"No, but I should try to keep with the spirit of my word at least."

oOo

Percy had never wished to be a Muggle, nor had he ever been particularly interested in their customs and habits beyond what was required for Muggle Studies. Yet, as Percy walked Audrey up to her brother's flat only moments after leaving his own, he rather envied Muggles one thing. Without the ability to Apparate, a couple would have to walk or drive home at the end of a date. That would mean long moments in a confined space together, or perhaps walking shoulder to shoulder down the sidewalk. There would be hand holding and shy smiles and flirting. Instead, Percy had Audrey at her door almost as soon as he'd walked out of his own.

"Well," he said once they came to a stop outside Seth Sprayberry's flat. For some reason, his hands felt like aliens attached to his body. He didn't know what to do with them. Should he shove them in his pockets? Take her hand? He wanted to run his fingers through her hair.

"I don't think I've ever been on a more exciting first date," Audrey said with a smile. She leaned against the door and looked up at Percy.

"Would you mind terribly if next time was a bit more boring?" He ran a hand through his own curls.

"Will there be a next time?" she asked softly.

Percy leaned in. "I'd like there to be. Would you?"

"Yes, I think I would." She leaned towards him. "Are you going to kiss me, yet?"

"Yes," he said, grinning. "Finally."

They both leaned in, her arms finding their way around his neck. His hands suddenly knew exactly what to do as they pressed into her back. His lips found hers unerringly. Gentle at first, just a brush across her pretty mouth. Then more insistent. His tongue slid across her bottom lip. A small moan came from her, firing Percy's blood. He pressed her into the door, their bodies flush against each other. Audrey's hands clutched more urgently at his shoulders, her lips opening to him. His tongue was inside her mouth, his hips pressed against hers. He felt his cock stir, and the urge to rub it against her was intense. With his last shreds of sanity, he knew it was time to pull away.

Audrey was looking up at him with dazed, lust filled eyes. Her hair was a bit messy, he wondered how one kiss could make her look so disheveled. Then he wondered how undone she would look if he made love to her.

"Good night," he murmured.

"Good night," she echoed, her voice breathless.

They watched each other for a moment, as Percy backed down the hall. Then he turned on the spot, and the next thing he knew, he was in the alley near his building. He sighed, a wide grin on his face. When Percy entered his flat, he found Oliver in the kitchen.

"Making yourself at home?" he asked his friend.

"Merlin's beard, Percy, it's hard to believe you live here," Oliver complained from where he was looking through the overhead cupboard. "All you have in your cupboard is bread and cereal. Muggle bread and cereal, at that."

"I take lunch at the Ministry," Percy replied. Audrey had said much the same thing.

"I like Audrey," Oliver said.

"Yeah?" Percy said carefully, going very still. He wanted to play down how much Oliver's approval meant to him, but Percy was pleased all the same. Not that it mattered. It had only been one date, he could hardly call Audrey his girlfriend.

"Aye, she makes you blush," Oliver said with a grin, then added more seriously, "And she makes you laugh. Nothing like Penelope."

"What do you mean?" Percy asked with a furrowed brow. He noted that it only felt as if one or two stones were thrown into the pit of his stomach, as opposed to a boulder, which was the feeling he normally experienced when Penelope was mentioned.

Oliver shrugged. "I don't know. Just…when you told me Audrey was a Ravenclaw, I was worried that she would be another proper, stuffy…snobby, erm, girl. Penelope never made you laugh like that, she certainly never made you blush."

Percy was reminded of Oliver's Hogwarts preference for sunny, busty, agreeable Hufflepuffs. Katie might be cheerful and, well, no denying that she had a nice bosom, but she was also headstrong and fiery when angered. A complete Gryffindor, through and through. Maybe neither Percy nor Oliver knew what they needed in a mate when at Hogwarts.

"So, I've always wanted to know," Oliver said, a slow smirk came across his face. "Was Penelope the type of girl who shags with the lights off?"

Percy shot his friend a withering look, but Oliver only laughed.

"I'll take that as a 'yes,' then."

"Oliver," Percy said suddenly, "did you like Penelope?"

Oliver closed the door to the cooling cupboard having only found butterbeer. "I didn't think much about her when we were at Hogwarts. I sometimes thought she didn't like having me around."

"Really?" Percy asked. This was news to him.

"I think she thought I was uncouth. I really got that feeling after we graduated and I was never invited around."

"Since when did you need an invitation?" Percy snorted.

"Since you were living out of Penelope's pocket."

Percy took a moment to absorb that. After leaving Hogwarts, Oliver had been busy training with Puddlemere, and Percy had been busy ingratiating himself with Barty Crouch, Sr. When Percy hadn't been working, he'd been with Penelope. It seemed the natural order of things, but now he considered that they often spent time with Penelope's friends—and almost no time with Oliver.

Guilt stabbed at Percy. As well as a new appreciation for Oliver. When things had gone bad with his family, then worse with Penelope, Percy had turned to Oliver who had stepped in without a word of recrimination. It had been Oliver who helped Percy find a flat and move into it.

"Sorry, mate," Percy muttered.

Oliver shrugged. "What did you fancy about Penelope anyways? You were keen to marry her at the time."

Percy studied his shoes. "That she was proper and well-mannered. She was the antithesis of everything I grew up with—I thought that was what I wanted. No mess, no fuss, no scads of ginger children. Plus she had all that pretty hair."

"And Audrey?"

"Well, Audrey is messy, isn't she?" He grinned, staring up at the ceiling. "She has pretty hair, though. It's soft, you know…and flowy."

And she had that pretty, little mouth. And it tasted like a fruity drink and peppermint.

"I'm pretty sure that 'flowy' is not a word, Head Boy," Oliver chuckled.

Percy shrugged, a blush creeping up his neck. "Perhaps, but it applies."

Oliver leaned against the worktop, crossing his arms over his chest. "So, why did you and Penelope break up anyway? I always got the feeling it ended badly, but you never would tell me."

The boulder dropped into place now. Percy swallowed thickly, and became engrossed with his shoes. Only one person knew the whole truth of it, and that was Bill, who'd caught him in a vulnerable moment. Otherwise, Percy would have never told anyone.

Maybe it was the Weasley in him, but for all the neat and tidy corners that Percy had desired, things ended messily. "Messy" didn't even cover it. "Disastrously" was more like it. He'd gone straight to Oliver's, though Percy knew that Oliver was on tour with Puddlemere at the time. But where else was there to go? He'd severed ties with his family only days before the break up, he couldn't go there. Though, if he were honest with himself, he'd wanted nothing so much as his Mum. Not that he deserved her comfort after what he allowed to happen.

"Well," Percy said slowly. "She wasn't the person I thought she was, and, as it turns out, neither was I. I wanted things I never knew I wanted and she…didn't."

Oliver looked at him for a moment. "Well, there's a good deal of non-answers there," he finally said. Then he cuffed Percy on the arm.

"I have to be at the Ministry early tomorrow," Percy said. He lifted his glasses and rubbed his eyes tiredly with the heels of his hands.

Oliver sighed. "I have to report to Puddlemere and check in, though training keeps getting pushed back. They've already had to reschedule the first week of games."

Readjusting his glasses, Percy's interest was piqued. "Really? Why?"

"The Commission is wreaking havoc across the League," Oliver answered. "Muggle-born players have gone missing. Other players have needed time off to deal with a family members' blood status or just plain disappeared with their families. Angelina says it's the same in Holyhead."

"Well, that's certainly not being reported in the Daily Prophet, is it?"

"Have you seen the Quibbler lately?"

Percy laughed. "No, why would I?"

Oliver shrugged. "The twins sent me a copy the other day, I'm just saying you might want to take a look at it."

The two of them walked to the door, the late hour pressing in. The previous night had offered little in the way of sleep, and here it was gone midnight. It felt as though weights sat on Percy's eyelids. He couldn't say that Oliver looked much better. Whatever Oliver and Katie were doing twenty-four hours previously could only be called bittersweet. Percy reached for the doorknob, but paused and looked at his friend.

"You going to be alright?"

Oliver nodded. "They're safe, mate, nothing else matters."

Chapter 11

The morning of September 1 was always a slow one at the Ministry. Half of the employees were at Platform 9¾ seeing their children off to Hogwarts. The Ministry employees would return to work after lunchtime, but even then productivity was low. Percy had been disappointed by this lack of dedication his first year at the Ministry, but now he just wondered why September 1 wasn't simply made a national holiday and be done with it.

Percy checked the list of Muggle-borns due in front of the Commission today. Only five, Umbridge normally saw eight to twelve cases a day. Regardless, that was five lives ruined, five families torn apart. Percy's stomach roiled as he thought of the injustice.

Conquering the urge to crumple the list in his hand, Percy set it down very carefully, as if it were a viper. He wondered how his own family would be holding up just about now. It was only 8:30, if Percy knew his family, they were nowhere near being ready for King's Cross, and wouldn't be for some time. Somehow, Percy found himself smiling as he remembered those rushed mornings. How frustrated he had been with the twins, who never finished their packing the night before. How frantic he felt, absolutely certain that would be the year they missed the train altogether. Now, when Percy remembered it, he could see his mum whipping up one last feast before sending her children away for three and a half months. He could hear the laughter that echoed through the Burrow as the twins took the mickey out of Ron or Percy himself. When Percy pictured Ginny, he saw the little girl who was being left behind. He remembered her attempts to stow away in Bill or Charlie's trunks. Percy remembered a ginger imp hiding his schoolbooks, thinking that would keep him from leaving.

It was harder to remember the excited eleven-year-old who was heading off to Hogwarts finally for her own adventure. It was painfully hard to remember the twelve-year-old who had been anxious about returning to the castle after her horrific first year. Percy had been so grateful to Hermione Granger, who had sat with Ginny for the entire train ride when Ron had been mysteriously absent (oh, how that realization had made Percy's stomach churn) and the twins too busy doing whatever it was that the twins did and, of course, Percy himself simply too grand with his Head Boy duties.

Three years later, Percy couldn't remember the thirteen-year-old Ginny on September 1 at all. He'd been so wrapped up in his own self-importance to be bothered with all that childish nonsense. Hogwarts, Platform 9¾, all of that had been behind him. All he could see was his own bright and shiny future.

Ginny was sixteen now. She was going to be a sixth year. How had that happened?

The thought of his baby sister heading off to a Hogwarts run by Death Eaters—by Snape—made Percy ill. Snape was a cruel bastard under Dumbledore's eye, what would he be like when the only person he had to answer to was He Who Must Not Be Named? Percy shivered. How were his parents going to find the strength to put their baby girl on the Hogwarts Express this morning? Percy didn't think he could do it.

Deciding to give up his paperwork as a bad job, at least for now, Percy went down to the commissary for his tea rather than taking it at his desk. He was just pouring milk in his cup when a familiar face walked up.

"Weasley," said the young wizard in Auror's robes, his light brown hair pulled into a ponytail.

"Williamson," Percy greeted with a nod.

He didn't know Liam Williamson well. He'd been a Gryffindor in Charlie's year, but the two had not been close friends, though they shared a mutual respect Percy supposed. Over the years, Percy had seen Williamson around the Ministry, and they were friendly, but little more than acquaintances.

"Lots of changes at the Ministry lately," Williamson said, stirring sugar into his own tea. "Some things getting stricter, some going lax. Must drive a man like you mad."

Percy said something noncommittal, wondering where this conversation was going. Not since the first days of the new administration had any Ministry employee dared to speak up about the new policies. There was a general undercurrent of fear running through every office, and everybody was treading carefully.

"Just a few nights ago, I was in the DMLE offices," Williamson continued. "Pulled night duty, you see. I was checking the blotters when there was a report of Misuse of Magic at some Muggle Pub."

Ice ran down Percy's spine. He set his cup down so as not to betray his trembling hand.

"Oh?" Percy said carefully. He made himself look at Williamson. "Bit reckless on somebody's part, wasn't it?"

"Reckless," Williamson agreed. His brow furrowed as he stared into his cup. "But the odd thing is, the report just…vanished." Williamson looked directly at Percy before continuing, "There one moment, I turn my back, and the next it's gone. Shameful, the slipshod way things are being run these days, wouldn't you say?"

Percy nodded. Deliberately, he looked the other man in the eye. Liam Williamson, however new he was to the Auror department, did not betray a thing. His expression was bland. It would seem that Williamson was trying to warn Percy, but why? Was his intent blackmail? Or was he trying to help?

"Yes," Percy said, swallowing thickly, "it is a shame that procedures are not being followed. It will lead to chaos."

Williamson slapped Percy on the back. "Well, it was good seeing you, Weasley. Take care."

oOo

Fleur replaced the vial on the shelf and marked her parchment. Despite late nights, Fleur had found herself awake with the sun that morning. Less than a fortnight had passed since Catriona Wood disappeared from the beach near Fleur's home, and the Order of Mercy powered forward slowly but surely. Oliver Wood and Angelina Johnson had located safe houses, and Percy had placed them under Fidelius Charms. It was serendipity that the old teammates now played for teams on opposite coasts of Britain. Their missions were not nightly, but already Muggle-borns were spreading across the Continent until the war was over. It was not her work that woke Fleur with a busy mind and tight chest that morning.

So, here she was, in her stillroom, trying to make good use of her time. Frowning, Fleur took down her bottle of Dittany. It was already low. Just two nights ago, Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet retrieved a Muggle-born woman scheduled in front of Umbridge the very next day. The poor woman must have been so frightened. She hexed Alicia, fearing capture. When finally Angelina convinced the woman they were there to help, she went willingly to a safe house in Wales and awaited the arrival her husband and two children. It was only then that Angelina sent a message to Fleur asking for medical treatment.

For a moment, Fleur had panicked. She could not send Alicia Spinnet to St. Mungo's, it was being watched by the Death Eaters looking for any suspicious activity that might reveal the identities and activities of Order members. For months, the Order of the Phoenix had been relying on the mixed talents of their members to heal injuries. The Order of Mercy was not so fortunate. Who was there to repair a broken arm or reverse a hex? And it was imperative that anything to do with the Order of Mercy remain secret for all of their sakes, but especially Percy. They could not risk letting anybody find out what they were doing. St. Mungo's was out of the question.

Fleur did the only thing she could. She stuffed a text on healing charms borrowed from Audrey and vials of potions into a bag, then Apparated to Wales. The last thing she had seen was Bill's worried face. In the end, healing Alicia was a simple affair. A bit of Dittany, a simple charm, and she was all better. It was also an important lesson, Fleur knew now that she would need to increase her supply of healing potions.

Would a Weasley amassing a stock of Skele-Gro and Wiggenweld look suspicious? With a sigh, Fleur knew the answer to be "yes". She wondered about Mrs. Weasley's supplies. With the war yawning before them, surely they would need a great many healing potions and other magical plants. Perhaps this was something she should speak to her mother-in-law about.

Not today, alas. Ginny would leave for Hogwarts today. There would be many more worries besides the amount of foxglove on hand.

"Are you ready, love?"

Fleur turned to see a drawn Bill standing in the threshold of her stillroom.

"I zink the question is not if I am ready, cheri," Fleur murmured. She came to stand before her husband and touched his cheek. "But if you are?"

He sighed. "As ready as I am likely to be. Come, let's get this over with."

oOo

Bill offered to push Ginny's luggage trolley only to have her glower at him and take it herself. It was a rainy, dreary day. The Muggles at King's Cross looked stressed and glum, though they could have no idea of the events taking place just past the magical barrier to Platform 9¾. Bill himself was not sure what they would find, but the possibilities left his stomach in knots.

Silently, Mum placed her hand in Dad's elbow. A look of resignation passed between them as they fell in step behind Ginny's brisk, determined pace. Fleur looked around at the Muggles and pulled the hood of her raincoat more firmly around her shiny hair. Bill wrapped his arm around her shoulders, offering her a reassuring smile.

"I have never been to Platform 9¾," she whispered.

"I wish it were under better circumstances."

"Tell me your favorite memory of it."

"Seventh year," he said. "Ginny was seven and she ran all the way down Platform 9¾ waving at the train and I stayed in the window watching her until I couldn't see her anymore. Then I had to be Head Boy and I was terribly nervous, but I knew that even if I failed, Ginny would still love me."

Fleur smiled. "Zat is very…sentimental."

Bill narrowed his eyes. "Are you making fun of me?"

"Non! I would never." She giggled. "I also zink you are full of zee bullshit."

"That is a true story."

"And I believe you, mon Bill, until zee end. The part about being Head Boy and Ginny loving you."

Bill was unable to defend himself as they had come to the barrier. He took a deep breath, glanced at Fleur who had sobered, and took her hand. Together they stepped through the brick wall onto Platform 9¾, only it was nothing like what Bill remembered. The scarlet engine still loomed large over the scene, white steam puffing out of its black smoke stack. But that was it.

The nervous excitement that Bill had associated with September 1 for seven of the best years of his life was gone. Instead, grim looking Aurors were stationed at each entrance to the train. Black-clad men were paired at even intervals along Platform 9¾. Death Eaters, their faces bared to the world. Children who would normally be scurrying around looking for school friends were reluctant to leave anxious looking parents.

But what caused the hairs on the back of Bill's neck to raise was the presence of a low group of wizards crowded around the edges. They looked unkempt and rough in black leather and heavy boots. Their wands were visible in their hands. Snatchers. They must be. At a place where children were preparing to leave for school? Bill's stomach sunk.

Fleur gasped.

Bill looked at her, alert for any threat. "What is it, love?"

She had lowered her hood. "Zat—" She started to point with one shaky finger, but then fisted her hand and let it drop. "Nothing. I am being foolish."

Bill looked in the direction Fleur had started pointing. One of the Snatchers, a shaggy, scruffy man with a fang earring, was leering at Fleur. He licked his lips, then his gaze leisurely traveled to Bill. The man bared pointy teeth. Bill glowered, his hand gripping his wand painfully inside his robes.

"Non," Fleur admonished. She tugged on Bill's sleeve, turning him so that his back was to the Snatchers. "Leave it."

Leave it was the last thing Bill wanted to do. He was accustomed to men staring and even coveting after his wife, but the look in that man's eyes…. It reminded Bill of Greyback: predatory and feral. Yet, where Greyback was a monster bent on mayhem and destruction, this other man had lust in his eyes.

"Step lively, son," his father murmured, appearing at Bill's other side. "We are being watched."

Bill looked at Dad, then around Platform 9¾. The Aurors had their heads down, but the Death Eaters were staring at the small band of Weasleys. They were waiting for one of them to step out of line. Bill gritted his teeth and tightened his arm around Fleur's shoulders.

"Merlin save us."

Bill looked over his shoulder to see Cal Wood come through the barrier. Behind him, pushing a cart, came Alex and finally Oliver. Mr. Wood, normally a stoic man, was staring goggle eyed around Platform 9¾. Absently, he reached for his youngest son and pulled him near. The boy was trying to look brave, but it was plain to see in his pale, drawn face that he was frightened.

"Dad," Oliver said, putting a bracing hand on Alex's shoulder. A look passed between the two men over the boy's head, and the father loosened his grip on the boy. Mr. Wood's jaw was set at a hard angle.

"Cal." Mum approached the Woods, holding out her hands.

Mr. Wood blinked. He put his hands in Mum's, then looked around at the knot of gingers plus Fleur. A ghost of a smile came to his face.

"I wish I could say that this was like old times," he said gruffly.

"How are you and Roberta holding up?" Dad asked, offering his hand.

Cal shook the offered hand before replying, "Well, Arthur, I'm glad that I convinced Bertie to stay home. I'm not sure she could have handled this."

"My, Oliver," Mum said, gazing up at the young man. "You have grown since the last time I saw you. How-how are you?"

It was obvious to Bill that what Mum really wanted to know was not how Oliver Wood was doing, but how Percy was doing. Oliver was regarding the older witch before him evenly, obviously weighing his next words. The look on the younger man's face reminded Bill of Dougal. Bill couldn't help but wonder when Quidditch-mad Oliver Wood had grown up, but he was afraid he knew the answer to that question.

"I'm as well as can be expected, ma'am," Oliver finally said.

"As is Percy," Mr. Wood added.

All eyes were on the elder Wood. Mum looked anxious, but Dad looked torn. Not for the first time, Bill cursed the Weasley pride and stubbornness. If it weren't for those two traits, perhaps Dad and Percy could have patched things up ages ago. Perhaps no rift would have been torn between them in the first place.

"Dad," Oliver warned.

"I know it's none of my business," Mr. Wood said. "But I've lost two sons, I think I've earned the right to speak my mind on the matter of fathers and sons."

He looked Dad in the eye. Cal Wood was a tall man, broader than Arthur Weasley.

"I want you and Molly to know that Percy is a credit to you both. He hardly left Oliver's side after Dougal and Fergus died. He-he damn near planned the entire funeral. I don't know what any of us would have done without him in those first days. He might be wrong-headed and stubborn, but what man isn't? He's a good man."

"Thank you," Dad said stiffly, his hands clenched at his sides.

Mum was less reserved. She threw her arms around Mr. Wood's neck, bawling into his shoulder.

"Um," Ginny said and cleared her throat. "We'll have to board soon."

A pall settled over the group at Ginny's words. It was hard to pretend this was a September 1 like any other. None of them knew what lie in store for Ginny or Alex at Hogwarts, and that knowledge lie shroud-like over Platform 9¾. Their collective attention shifted to the train where students were beginning to queue up. Bill watched as Neville Longbottom, looking curiously tall and confidant, broke away from his grandmother and strode up to one of the Aurors. The young man presented his wand to the official and sneered as he pulled back his sleeve. The students were meant to prove their blood status with a little sample, but it was nonsense. A wizard could no more prove the purity of their blood than a Muggle could steal magic.

"It's Alex, right?" Ginny said. She stepped forward to take the boy's hand. He was younger than her, but already taller. "Are you a third year?"

"Second," he replied.

"Well, we're purebloods, for all the good that does us," Ginny said. "Might as well lead the pack."

"I'll take care of your trunk," Oliver said, sending Ginny a grateful smile.

Bill moved to take care of his sister's trunk, when he was frozen by Ginny's horror-filled gasp. He looked up to see two boys coming onto Platform 9¾—obviously brothers. The one must be Ginny's age, of average height with straw colored hair. The younger boy was smaller, but shared the same bone structure and mop of hair.

"Colin," Ginny hissed. "Wh-what are you doing here?"

"Returning to school, of course," the older boy answered with a cheeky grin.

Ginny got right up in the boy's face. "Are you mad? Do you know what they are doing to Muggle-borns?"

Everybody froze as they stared at the boys. Bill's eyes slid to the smaller of the two boys. There was something that marked him as older than Alex, though he wasn't any bigger. While the older boy looked smug, the younger one appeared apprehensive.

"Good thing I'm not Muggle-born, then," Colin replied. He produced some official looking documents. "Did a little genealogy over the summer, I did. Turns out that Mum's mum was a squib. In fact, dear, late Professor Moody was my great-uncle."

Ginny was a dangerous shade of red. "Are. You. Mad!?"

Mum slid over to Ginny and wrapped her hand around Ginny's wrist. "Keep it down," she warned.

"Boys," Dad said, coming forward. He scanned the area, pressing his fingers to his mouth before continuing. "This is not a game."

"I never thought it was," Colin responded in a calm tone, but there was a firm set to his mouth.

"Do you have any idea what…what they will do to you if they decide that your paperwork is false?"

"It's not false. Would you like to look at it?"

"Creevey," Oliver said, his voice hushed. "Do you have a death wish? Don't do this."

"We belong here," Colin insisted, shooting Oliver a dark look.

"I agree, but that doesn't mean I want to see you killed."

"I'll take my chances."

"With your brother, too?" Oliver challenged. He crossed his arms over his broad chest and turned to the younger boy. "What's your name, lad?"

"D-Dennis," the boy stammered, staring round-eyed up at the bigger, older wizard.

Oliver's head snapped back to Colin. "Take your own life in your hands, Creevey, but spare your brother. Let me take him out of here before it's too late."

"I belong at Hogwarts," Dennis insisted, his face set.

"You see," Colin replied, then a deadly look came to his eyes. "Me and Dennis are in this together. We are wizards and now we have the papers to prove it."

If the scarlet-lined robes hadn't already made it obvious, the raw courage and indignation would have marked these two as Gryffindors. Even the younger boy puffed out his chest at his brother's proclamation. Gryffindors and the worst kind, Bill feared. That particular variety of brashness would get them killed.

"You can't do this, Colin," Ginny whispered. Tears were in her eyes. "Think of Dennis, for Merlin's sake."

"We are wizards, our family tree says so."

With that, Colin walked past Ginny, his younger brother following in his wake. Mum tried to pull Ginny into her arms, but Ginny jerked away. Bill couldn't help but track the boys through Platform 9¾. Other Gryffindors, including Longbottom, were having similar reactions as Ginny's. One feisty, sandy haired boy was in Colin's face with obviously harsh words. Yet, all of them held their breath as the two boys approached an Auror and presented their wands and paperwork.

The minutes stretched out long and slow. Bill watched as the Auror before Colin looked at his clipboard, then at the paperwork before him. The poor man's face was green and sweaty. It was obvious that he didn't want to be doing this. Finally, the Auror took out his wand. Both brothers presented their arms.

Beside him, Fleur moaned and Bill realized that he was squeezing her hand too tightly. He looked at their hands clasped between them before forcing himself to lessen his grip. He glanced at his sister's stricken face, tears streaming down her blotchy cheeks. It was like a punch to the gut. Ginny never cried.

Finally, his eyes turned back to the two boys at the train. They were both rolling down their sleeves and boarding the train. A whoosh of air left Bill. Thank Merlin, but how? Ginny was swiping angrily at her face while Mum stared on helplessly.

"Stupid gits," Ginny muttered.

"Was that Creevey?" asked a young man in Hufflepuff robes.

"Yes," Ginny snapped. "Stupid Creevey."

"Shite," the young man breathed. His cheeks turned pink as he looked around. "Sorry, ma'ams, Uncle Cal."

"I don't think I could have said it better myself, Ernie," Mr. Wood said. "My nephew, Ernie Macmillan."

The young man dipped his head in greeting, extending his hand to all around.

"I thought I would take Alex to the train, if that is alright with you, sir," Ernie said, addressing Mr. Wood.

"Aye, thank you, Ernie." He looked at his youngest son, then embraced him, murmuring in his ear. Alex closed his eyes for a moment, his arms tightening around his dad. Then he turned to Oliver, who ruffled the boy's hair before hugging him too.

Ernie put a hand on Alex's shoulder when he broke away from his older brother. "I'll watch out for him."

"Cheers," Oliver said.

Mr. Wood stepped forward, cupped the back of the shorter Ernie's head and placed a kiss on his forehead. The young man looked startled.

"Keep your head down, son," Mr. Wood said to Ernie. "I know better than to underestimate a Hufflepuff."

Ernie gaped, then, "Yes, sir."

"That goes double for you, young lady," Mum said to Ginny.

Ginny looked outraged for a moment, then forced a cheeky grin. "Honestly, Mum, what makes you think I would do anything foolish?"

It was Oliver who snorted in reply, "It goes along with that lion on your crest."

"Well, you ought to know, Wood," Ginny retorted, her grin looking more real. "I once saw you stop a Quaffle with your face."

Oliver rubbed his nose, but still managed to smile. "Did we win?"

"Oh, yes, Gryffindor was brilliant in that match."

"Absolutely worth it then."

Bill laughed, the tension inside his chest loosening just a bit. "Merlin, how do you lot make everything about Quidditch?"

"Is there anything else?" Alex asked, sending a smirk to his brother.

"Only breathing," Oliver replied.

"But only because it's a prerequisite for Quidditch," Mr. Wood finished.

The tension broke. Everybody laughed. Then there were hugs all around. Bill laughed even harder when he found himself facing a perplexed Ernie Macmillan with open arms. The younger man offered his hand instead, which Bill gladly took. Then the three students headed to the train. They fell in with a group of Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs. Bill recognized Longbottom and the sandy haired boy, a few Gryffindor girls. Hannah Abbott, who Bill had met passing through the Leaky Caldron, greeted Ernie and Alex both with hugs, as did a small, dark haired girl with a yellow tie.

It was understood by the adults that no one would move until the train bore the children away. Alex and the dark haired girl were first to pass through the checkpoint and onto the train. It was 10:45. Fifteen more minutes of this agony, not that it would end when the Hogwarts Express pulled away from the station. The knowledge that Ginny—and even little Alex Wood and dutiful Ernie Macmillan—were at Hogwarts would be like a toothache until December, Bill was sure of it. He'd have to push the knowledge of it to the back of his mind to keep from going mad, but it would be there all the same. A nagging, persistent pain. Then a short respite at Christmas, only to have it to do all over again in January.

Bill looked at his mum, who would be alone in the big, crooked house most of her day. How would she keep from losing her mind with worry? He looked at Fleur as if she would have an answer to this gnawing problem. His wife glanced at him, a worried wrinkle forming on her perfect brow.

"Wait!"

All eyes moved to the barrier where a tall, slim, dark haired boy in the yellow and black robes of Hufflepuff broke through at a run, waving his hand wildly above his head. For one mad moment, Bill noted that the boy didn't have a trunk.

A scream rent the air.

Bill looked at the knot of students where Ginny still stood. Hannah Abbott's hands covered her mouth, one of the Gryffindor girl's moved to place her hands on Hannah's arms comfortingly. Just inside the train's entrance, still on the steps, the dark haired girl looked as though she was trying to jump down, but then had to turn to restrain the taller Alex. Ernie Macmillan was very still, his face a mask of wide-eyed shock.

"Justin!"

Chapter 12

"I was afraid I would be late."

The Hufflepuff boy, Justin, came to a stumbling stop before one of the Aurors. The boy was gasping for breath, staring straight ahead at the Auror, who looked panicked. Two carriages down the cluster of Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors stood frozen in anticipation. Students in every corner of Platform 9¾ were coming to watch what was happening. Inside the train there was a commotion as more students pushed their way to the windows.

And the Death Eaters had become absolutely still.

The knot in Bill's stomach returned. He didn't need to know this Justin to know that he was Muggle-born. It was obvious from the way all of the other students were reacting. And this knowledge wasn't lost on Bill's parents or wife. They were all staring in horror at the scene unfolding before them. And like a refrain, all Bill could think was he had no trunk.

"Name," the Auror said. Her voice rang out over the silent Platform 9¾ as if amplified.

"Justin Finch-Fletchley."

Hannah Abbott gasped. The two Gryffindor girls—one honey blonde girl and the other Indian—both moved to embrace the pigtailed Hufflepuff. They were joined by a Ravenclaw girl who was obviously the twin of the Gryffindor.

Bill clenched and unclenched his hands. There was nothing more he wanted to do than rush across Platform 9¾, grab that boy, and drag him away to safety. But he knew he couldn't. For one, Bill would have to battle Death Eaters just to get to Justin. Moreover, Bill knew his family would not simply stand aside and allow the Death Eaters to attack him without coming to his aid. Saving Justin would put his family—and not only the ones present—at risk, to say nothing of the innocent bystanders, most of whom were children. Even if he were successful, that spoke nothing of his chances of escape.

His own impotency suffocated him. It was the Battle of Little Helga all over again. Bill was so close—he was right there! And there was nothing he could do.

"Your name is not on the list," the Auror said. "Blood status."

"Muggle-born."

For a split second, it was as though all of Platform 9¾ held its breath before exploding into action.

"Bill," Dad commanded, "take Fleur and your mum away."

The Death Eaters had pivoted. Four of them were converging on Justin from opposite directions. The Auror's face looked pained, her eyes darting from the young man in front of her to the black clad wizards bearing down on them.

Bill grasped Fleur's elbow. She yanked it away.

"Non." Fleur kept her eyes trained straight ahead on Justin Finch-Fletchley. "If he is brave enough to martyr himself, zen I am brave enough to watch."

Mum linked her arm through Fleur's, and they stood united.

"Arrest the Mudblood," one of the Death Eaters demanded. Bill didn't recognize that one, but he had a blunt face and snub nose.

The Auror looked at the Death Eater coolly. "On what grounds…sir?"

"Theft of magic," another said. That was McNabb, Bill would recognize him anywhere.

"I've never stolen anything in my life—not even a sugar quill," Justin proclaimed, drawing himself up to his full height, his posture very straight and easy. "I was born a wizard, the same as you."

One of the Death Eaters raised his wand.

A pitiful wail erupted across Platform 9¾. Hannah Abbott was crying, wrapped in the arms of the twins. The honey colored girl was on the steps now with Alex and the dark haired Hufflepuff girl. From somewhere, Luna Lovegood had appeared. She was flitting around the knot of Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs like a dragonfly until Ginny grabbed her hand.

"Alex," Mr. Wood breathed, making to move forward only to be stopped by Oliver.

"He has to stay on the train, Dad," Oliver murmured, his arms around his Dad's shoulders. "Too much is in the balance."

Mr. Wood covered his mouth with his hand.

"I said," McNabb sneered, "arrest this Mudblood."

The Auror looked from Justin to the Death Eaters. "I can't."

Yaxley moved forward. Shite. Bill hadn't even noticed the compact, blond wizard before that moment. He was dressed in Auror's robes instead of the customary black that marked him as a Death Eater. Fear crossed the face of the Auror momentarily, but then it was gone.

"Can't?" Yaxley drawled.

"I won't," the woman said. She took off her crimson robe and threw it at her feet. "Consider this my resignation."

Yaxley stunned her. "Very well."

Scores of wands must have appeared. Aurors, students, parents.

Mum made a guttural sound. Bill's wand was in his hand, and he could only stare at it in horror. They were standing on Platform 9¾, a place full of school children, and here they were ready to do battle. He stashed his wand away as quickly as it appeared. This had to be stopped. This couldn't happen now, not here.

Yaxley turned at a leisurely pace, his hooded eyes sweeping Platform 9¾. With a wave of his hand the Snatchers surged forward. Justin stood over the fallen Auror, his wand hand trembling as he stared down at her. As the bullyboys came nearer, the Death Eaters fell away. The young man's head snapped up just in time to be elbowed roughly in the face by a barrel chested wizard with a thick beard.

"Justin!"

Ernie Macmillan was screaming his friend's name. Longbottom and the sandy haired wizard were restraining the Hufflepuff as he tried to get to his friend.

"Merlin's feckin' balls, Macmillan," the sandy haired boy swore.

"Not now, Ernie," Longbottom said clearly, putting his shoulder into the effort to restrain the other boy.

The Snatchers dragged the Auror roughly from the ground by her armpits and through the crowd of people. Two others had Justin by the arms and were pulling him in the same direction. The young man struggled at first, trying to pull away from the grasping hands, but then he stopped and looked around.

"I belong here," Justin announced clearly into the silence.

His eyes swept Platform 9¾ one more time before he was bludgeoned with a club to the head. There was a sickening crack as wood struck skull, and the young man's head snapped back, blood oozing from the wound. Ernie was screaming for Justin again. Hannah Abbott had slid to the ground in sobs. Nearly every girl on Platform 9¾, no matter the color of her robes, was crying. More wands had appeared.

Bill could taste the tang of battle on the air.

As Justin Finch-Fletchley was dragged past, Augusta Longbottom stepped forward. She stood to her full height, the great vulture on her hat giving her a grotesquely grand bearing. She was staring straight at Yaxley, no wand in sight.

"I bare witness."

Her voice rang out strong and uncompromising.

The breath that Bill was holding left him. He looked at Fleur and his mum, who were clutching each other's hands so tightly their knuckles were white. All around, wands disappeared. Witches and wizards were standing straighter, prouder. The Death Eaters looked ill at ease, but Yaxley merely stared the old and venerable witch down. Augusta Longbottom was unmoved.

"Five minutes until the train departs," Yaxley called out. He made a motion with his fingers. "Load the rest of the children."

He walked through the crowd, the other Death Eaters following in his wake. The people parted to let them pass, their faces drawn in contempt and hatred. Before the Death Eaters made it to the barrier, they Disapparated.

oOo

Once she was on the Muggle side of King's Cross, Fleur took a deep breath. It felt like the first, she could not remember the last time her lungs filled with air. But it was not oxygen that rushed into her airways. Exhaust and pollution choked Fleur. She coughed, tears coming to her eyes.

"Fleur, love," Bill said, moving to put his arms around her.

"I need zee loo."

Fleur spotted the sign for the water closet and dashed away from her husband. She shut herself in one of the stalls, wrapping her arms around herself. She did not want to touch the walls or the toilet, but she was shaking with suppressed emotion. She bit down on her lips so she would not cry out. Her throat ached, her eyes burned. Finally, she took another breath. It was not clean air, no. It was not like the air at her home, at Shell Cottage, but it would do. Wiping her eyes, she drew out her Muggle notebook and pen. She flipped it open and stared at the blank page for a moment, seeing black and gold in her mind's eye. Oh, dear Merlin, that boy—no, he was a young man. Justin Finch-Fletchley.

Fleur closed her eyes. She repeated the name over and over in her mind. She must not forget. She whispered it, but the sounds of his name felt wrong on her tongue. They were too English. Tears dripped onto the pad of paper.

P—

Justin Finch-Fletchley was taken from Platform 9¾. Also, a female Auror, her name unknown. Please find out what happened to them. We must rescue them.

—F

"Fleur?"

Fleur heard Molly's voice. The French witch took her handkerchief from her pocket and wiped her eyes, then blew her nose noisily. She took a great breath before opening the stall door. Her short, plump mother-in-law stood on the other side with a sad expression on her face.

Molly put her arms around Fleur, who fell against her shoulder and wept.

Only for a moment. Then Fleur moved away.

"I am sorry," she said, wiping away her tears. "I told myself I would not cry. Zat-zat young man—he deserves more zan my tears."

Molly took Fleur's hand. "Oh my dear, he deserves more than this awful world has shown him. I-I am ashamed and outraged and so very frightened for him."

"What do you zink zey will do to him?" Fleur whispered.

Molly opened her mouth, then closed it. "I don't know. I just don't know."

"Teach me to say his name, s'il te plait."

oOo

F—

I am scouring every paper on my desk. No word yet of JFF or the Auror.

—P

P—

You must look harder. This is of the utmost importance.

—F

F—

I have requested reports from the DMLE, the Auror Department and the Commission. Keep your fingers crossed. The Ministry is abuzz with an agitated energy. The employees who returned from Platform 9¾ are troubled and angry. The Minister and his lackeys are whispering and furtive. No one is talking.

—P

P—

Please, have you heard anything? Gringotts is also in an upset. The Goblins are agitated that productivity is low, but the witches and wizards are very, very angry.

Why should I keep my fingers crossed? How will that help us find JFF?

—F

F—

The Auror's name is Miranda Wilson. She was a Ravenclaw, class of 1985. The report says that she was dismissed for "conduct unbecoming an Auror", but no word on what that conduct was or where she is now. Nothing on JFF. It is as if he does not exist.

—P

"Fleur, are you ready to go home?"

Fleur looked up from her notebook to see Bill standing in the doorway of her department. He looked tired and drawn. Fleur was sure that she must appear much the same—at least to Bill's eyes. The hours since leaving Platform 9¾ had stretched on unbearably long.

"Miss Delacour may as well leave," snapped Bodrod, Fleur's boss, the world's most disagreeable goblin.

"It is Mrs. Weasley," Fleur reminded him, sneering.

"Whatever you call yourself, you are a worthless girl. Come prepared to work tomorrow."

A year ago, Fleur would have been quick to assure the quarrelsome little creature that she would do her best, but now she simply did not care. It took longer than it should have, but she finally realized that Bodrod could not be pleased. There was a kind of freedom in that, Fleur thought.

Wrinkling her nose as if she smelled something foul, Fleur said, "I will be here tomorrow, oui, and if you are pleasant, perhaps I will consider it."

Lifting her chin, Fleur gathered her things and went to Bill's side. Neither she nor Bodrod acknowledged the other again. Fleur placed her hand in the crook of Bill's elbow. His eyes were sparking with mirth, the corner of his mouth pulled into a smirk. Fleur raised her eyebrows in mock admonishment.

Bill leaned in as they walked and murmured into her ear, "You could be a little less haughty."

"Hmph, he could be less ill-tempered."

"That's what makes him a goblin."

"And zee Veela, zey are haughty, non? So we are even."

"I would have said temperamental, but have it your way."

Fleur reached over and pinched his arm.

"Ow!" Bill rubbed his arm. "See!"

"And zee Weasleys, zey are-are cheeky!"

Bill chuckled. "What a wonderfully British word, Mrs. Weasley."

"Bah," she dismissed this with a flick of her hand, but the corners of her mouth were trying to pull into a smile.

They Disapparated onto the beach near Shell Cottage. Once inside the boundaries of their wards, Fleur's shoulders slumped. The sea breeze skimmed over her body, teasing a few tendrils of silvery hair loose from the twist it was pinned into. The trace of salt on the air tasted fresh and cool on her tongue. The roar of the sea was like her heartbeat.

Fleur kicked off her high heeled shoes, the sand rough against her bare skin. "I will race you to zee sea," she yelled and ran headlong into the water.

"Cheat!" Bill shouted. He was laughing as he tried to pull off his dragon-hide boots.

The tide rolled onto the beach. The sand had turned cool and squishy between Fleur's toes. The wind pulled her hair free of its confines so it flowed down her back. She held her arms wide as she crashed into the waves. The water circled around her shins, soaking the hem of her frock.

Bill came running into the surf, capturing her around the waist and spinning her around. Fleur squealed with laughter right up until the point that he collapsed onto the sand. Waves washed over both of them, soaking their clothes and bodies with the cool, autumn water. Fleur gasped and spluttered as she sat up.

"You—" she scolded, wagging a finger at her husband. "I am wet and—and cold!"

Bill grabbed her shoulders and dragged her against his chest. He kissed her, his lips moving over hers, his tongue dipping into her mouth. Fleur moaned. She clutched his wet shirt. The waves rolled over them, trying to swirl between their bodies.

Finally, he pulled away. His breathing was quick and shallow. His eyes trained on her lips.

"This day…."

Fleur touched the scar that ripped through his lips. "Oui. I know."

Bill tucked her under his chin, his arms strong and tight around her. Fleur ran her fingers up and down his wet back, listening to the beat of his heart against her ear.

"Is it selfish," Fleur asked quietly, "to be glad zat I am here in your arms when zat young man is probably in Azkaban tonight?"

"It's human, I think," Bill whispered into her hair.

"He may not be in Azkaban. Percy says it is as if he never existed."

Bill stiffened against her. "Percy?" he asked. "Fleur, when did you speak to him?"

Fleur pulled back slightly so that she could look up at Bill. He had his face tucked down, his loose hair obscuring her view of his eyes. She pushed back that curtain of hair, but still he averted his eyes. Bill was trying to hide from her.

"Do not do zat," she growled.

Bill looked at her from under his lashes, still hiding.

"You are angry wiz me, zen show it."

"I'm not angry," Bill replied, but he still wasn't looking at her.

"I zink you are," Fleur replied. She sat back on her heels and crossed her arms.

Bill's mouth tightened over his teeth. "Percy is already taking so many risks without trying to track down a hopeless cause."

"Hopeless?" Fleur snapped, her voice rising. "If we can somehow rescue…."

Bill's head snapped up, his eyes were hard. "There is no rescue, Fleur, and you're naïve to think so. That boy is dead, and so is the Auror."

Fleur gasped as if slapped in the face.

"He humiliated the Death Eaters today," Bill continued. "He nearly incited a riot on Platform 9¾, You-Know-Who can't afford to let him live."

"Zey cannot afford to kill him, either. It would create a martyr to rally around who is even more tangible zan Harry Potter. He is alive somewhere, and if he is not, zen his spirit should be."

Bill's face went red. "And you're going to get yourself and Percy killed to ensure that, are you? Think about the risks you're taking."

"Bah! I am tired of having zis argument wiz you, Bill. Percy is a smart man, and a careful one. You cannot protect him anymore zan you can protect Ginny at Hogwarts or zee twins at zeir shop or—or Ron." Fleur stopped, watching as her words washed over Bill. His hands clenched on his thighs. She placed her own hands over his. "We are taking our own risks."

"None of you understand what that means, not truly." The anger was gone from his eyes, and he just looked miserable. "The twins think it's a grand adventure, and Percy…he might remember…."

"Bill," Fleur said and cupped his face with her hand.

He pulled away. Fleur's hands were left empty. Surging to his feet, Bill stomped off in the direction of the house but Fleur sat in the sand, shivering as she watched him go. Anger erupted inside of her, but not for her Bill. She was angry with his mother. The woman who made Bill responsible for all of his siblings. That was why he felt he must take care of them when it was not his job. They were adults, most of them.

Bill was suffering from more than just misplaced responsibility. Fleur knew that, and she knew that being angry with Molly was easier than fixing Bill. Fleur did not know what to do for him, and it worried her. She did not like how he had walked away from her just now. Finally, Fleur was too cold to stay by the ocean any longer, and she walked up to Shell Cottage.

oOo

To say that Percy was surprised to find Audrey sitting in front of his door with a brown paper bag at her feet was an understatement. For a moment, he panicked, thinking he'd forgotten their plans. But no, that was not so. When he'd returned her home after their proper second date, they'd made no concrete arrangements. Then it occurred to him that perhaps she wasn't Audrey at all. He gripped his wand tighter and stopped at the top of the stairs.

"It's me," she said, standing. "I don't know what I can say to make you believe me, so I guess you'll just have to take it on faith."

She smoothed her hands over her red sweater, Percy's eyes following hungrily. Was it possible? Her breasts appeared bigger than they had the other night. His fingers brushed against the left one when he'd kissed her goodnight, giving him a hint of pertness. Oh, he'd acted as if it was an accident, but the truth was she'd been winding him up the entire night and he wanted to give her a taste of her own potion. He didn't know if it had left her all hot and bothered, but it certainly left him aroused. He'd not been keen to leave her on her doorstep with just a kiss, but forced himself to do precisely that. Immediately upon returning to his flat, he'd had to do something about the situation himself.

With that thought in mind, Percy crossed the landing. Audrey didn't flinch away, not even when he caught her arms and held them trapped behind her back and hauled her against his chest. Audrey gasped, her big eyes growing even wider. He watched as surprise flickered there, followed by challenge, and finally something else. Something Percy hoped was desire.

"Faith was never my strong suit," Percy murmured, his voice husky.

He bent his head and captured Audrey's lips with his own. This had seemed like a good plan, but now he worried that he was overstepping his boundaries. He kept the kiss soft, tentative. He didn't want to frighten her, which in hindsight seemed a likely outcome. Audrey tugged on her arms, but when he didn't release them she moaned. She actually moaned into their kiss. Percy felt himself go hard. Then Audrey pressed her body into his, and it was his turn to moan.

When finally he came up for air, Percy felt as if he'd been stunned. He took deep breaths, trying to pull oxygen into his lungs and hopefully his brain which was a little foggy. Audrey nuzzled her head against his chest, her soft hair tickling the underside of his chin. It was only then that he thought to release her arms.

"It's you," he said, stroking her cheek with his thumb.

Her arms went around his neck. "Mm-hm." She stood on tiptoe to press kisses into his jaw.

"We should go inside." Percy's long hands spanned across her back. "We'll become a spectacle."

"Too late for that, Gryffindor."

She was still nuzzling his jaw and throat. Percy wondered why he cared if the neighbors saw.

"Dammit, minx, inside!"

Audrey pulled away, her eyes bright with excitement. Percy had no clue what he'd done to inspire that look, but it was making his erection twitch. Then Audrey stooped down to pick up the paper bag. When she lifted her head, Percy realized that she was at eye level with the bulge in his trousers. He froze, a blush sweeping up his neck. Did she notice? Let her not notice. Audrey flashed him a devilish grin. Merlin, he wasn't sure if he was more embarrassed or turned on.

They were inside the flat before either of them spoke again. Audrey had walked straight to the kitchen with the paper bag. Percy watched her use her wand to Levitate a couple of plates from the upper cabinets. He removed his Ministry robes and wished he'd bought a coat rack at some point to hang them on when he returned home. Normally he'd go back to his bedroom and hang them up as soon as he got home, but he felt strangely loathe to leave Audrey's presence even for a moment. He was afraid he'd miss something.

"I hope you don't mind me showing up uninvited," Audrey said. She walked out of the kitchen carrying plates, utensils, and the bag.

"Not at all," he said. "This day was full of surprises, it's about time one of them was nice."

Concern flashed through her dark eyes. Concern for him, Percy realized. It was nice to see that emotion directed at him again. It felt like a long time since anybody was openly worried on his behalf. Some of his ardor cooled, replaced with a more tender emotion.

"Not-not that the other surprises were-were bad, per se," he stammered, wanting to reassure her. "Well, I suppose they were, but not harmful. Or maybe just not to me personally. It was—"

Audrey placed a hand on his arm. "You're rambling," she murmured with an amused smile, but her eyes were still concerned. "Go change into something more comfortable, and then we can eat Chinese and talk about our days. It will be sickeningly like we are a couple."

It took longer than it should have to change his clothes. Percy fretted over what Audrey meant by more comfortable. He never changed out of his trousers and button downs after work, not until it was time to put on his pajamas. He didn't think that was what she meant. Moreover, he didn't want her to see him in his pajamas; there was nothing sexy about blue stripes. He wondered what Oliver wore after training, probably a warm up suit. What would Bill wear? Denims and a t-shirt, no doubt. Maybe a jumper. Percy wondered if he still had any of his old Gryffindor t-shirts, that would amuse Audrey, he was sure. The only jumpers he had were the ones his mum had made for him years ago.

Finally, deciding that he was hopelessly uncool, Percy pulled his shirttails out and undid the top button of his shirt. When he reentered the lounge, he found Audrey sat cross-legged atop the coffee table. She had small, white containers sitting around her.

"Do you like Chinese?" she asked.

"I don't know."

Audrey looked at him wide eyed. "You've never had Chinese food?"

Percy sat on sofa across from her. "Can't say that I have, no."

"You are lacking a sense of adventure, I think."

"I've eaten Egyptian food," Percy retorted, stung by her teasing more than he should have been.

"Yeah?"

"Indeed, the summer we visited Bill in Cairo. It was quite good actually." He paused, then added, "I've consumed a fair number of the twin's experiments, as well, though I can't say that I did so knowingly."

"But you survived to tell the tale."

"Yes, well, Mum would have murdered them if they'd actually killed me."

Audrey laughed. "Well, I normally like to eat my Chinese right out of the container, but you are a bit fussier than I, so I got plates out."

Percy took this as a challenge and seized a container. He gave her a pointed look, letting her know that the challenge was accepted. Her eyebrows arched prettily over her eyes. He opened the container to find a battered meat covered in sesame seeds and an orange sauce.

"Ah, sesame chicken," Audrey said. "One of my favorites. I am guessing that you have never used chopsticks?"

She offered him what looked like a stick after Ron had stripped all the bark off. Percy did in fact know what chopsticks were. He might lack a sense of adventure, but he rarely lacked in knowledge. He didn't say that aloud. It sounded like something a prat would say.

"First," Audrey said, holding her own chop sticks aloft, "you have to snap them apart."

She demonstrated, rolling the now separated sticks between her hands so that they rubbed against each other. Percy mimicked her actions.

"Then, place the first chopstick between your thumb and middle finger, like this."

Percy did as he was told. Audrey obviously found his technique inadequate, for the next thing he knew, her small hand was circling his wrist, and the other one was adjusting the chopstick so that the broad end was resting in the crook of his thumb. Merlin, it amazed him how much he liked it when she touched him, even in the simplest ways.

"Alright, that's a start," she said. Percy wondered how Audrey could seem so unaffected by the nearness they had just shared. "Now, you'll hold the other chopstick between your thumb and index finger. Yes! Like that. Now, this is the one that moves."

Audrey demonstrated. Percy thought it looked rather clumsy, the way she opened and closed the chopsticks.

"So," he said, "this one remains still? Like an anchor."

"Yes, that's it."

Audrey leaned forward and used her chopsticks to pick up a piece of the sesame chicken, then guided it to her mouth. A bit of orange sauce dripped onto her chin. Percy reached up with his free hand to cup her chin, his thumb rubbed across her skin, wiping away the sauce. Audrey froze, her eyes locked on his as he licked the sauce off.

"That's quite good," he murmured.

"Yes," she breathed. "Quite."

Percy cleared his throat. "So, these chopsticks…."

Picking up the container of sesame chicken again, Percy adjusted his hold on the chopsticks. He maneuvered them to pick up a piece of chicken, thinking it would be much easier just to stab it with the stick. It took two tries, but he was quite pleased with himself when he picked up one of the chunks of meat. He brought it to his mouth, only to have it fall off the chopsticks, bounce off his chin, roll down his white shirt, and land on the floor.

Audrey laughed.

"Hush, you," Percy scolded, his mouth stretched into a smile that felt altogether foreign. Before his eyes, the food on the floor vanished, the stain on his shirt was Scourgified as Audrey cleaned him up. He looked at her, then pointed at his chin. "You missed a spot."

"Did I?"

Audrey leaned forward, balancing herself with her hands on his shoulders, and pressed her lips to his chin. Percy felt her wet tongue against his skin and barely controlled the urge to pull her into his lap. She drew back, her eyes meeting his in a coquettish manner. A blush swept up his neck, and he wanted to curse it. He didn't want Audrey to think she had embarrassed him, for he always felt it gave her the upper hand. But more than that, he wanted her to know that she turned him on.

Just as if nothing happened, Audrey sat back and picked up a fork to twirl in her noodles.

"What's this?" Percy demanded.

Audrey looked at him, forkful of noodles half way to her mouth. "What's what?"

"The fork!"

"Oh, I was never any good with chopsticks." She shoveled the noodles in, sucking in the strands that were slopping onto her chin with an audible smack.

With pink cheeks, Audrey averted her eyes shyly. She laughed as she used her fingers to dab at the sauce that had splattered on her chin and mouth. Percy felt something he couldn't quite describe form in his chest as he listened to her laugh. It was like a bubble, light and shiny and so very fragile. He felt as if he were being warmed from the inside out. He didn't know when he'd ever felt this way before, but it made him want to smile. Then he was laughing, a full-bodied chuckle even.

To hell with it! He wanted to snog Audrey. Just that, for now, and he was tired of the slow pace he'd set himself. Jamming his chopsticks into the food container, Percy snagged Audrey's out of her hands and set them aside. Then his lanky arms were around her narrow waist and he was kissing her. Audrey wound her arms around his neck, her fingers playing with his hair. Her lips were soft and yielding against Percy's urgent ones. He felt aware of himself, of his body, of Audrey's body in his arms, in a way he never had before. It was as if every sense was awakened and heightened. He reveled in the way his skin prickled with anticipation. How velvety her sweater felt under his long hands. He loved the sound of her gentle moans. The feel of her cool fingers touching the nape of his neck, down his throat and just under his opened collar. His heart was beating so fast it made him feel wondrously, recklessly alive.

Gasping for breath, Percy pulled away to stare into Audrey's big eyes for a moment. He didn't see the saucy, teasing glint that normally lit her eyes, instead they were dark with want. His lips twitched. So, she wasn't so unaffected after all.

"Come here," he murmured. He pulled Audrey into his lap and began kissing her again with less urgency, but more deeply, as if they had all the time in the world. He leaned into the cushions of the sofa, enjoying the weight of her in his lap, the press of her breasts into his chest. At least he figured out one mystery. He could feel the padding of Audrey's bra where it pressed against him.

He laughed into their kiss, wondering if he'd ever done such a thing before. He couldn't have because it was the best feeling in the world—laughing and snogging. Or maybe it was just Audrey.

Chapter 13

When Fleur blinked awake the next morning it was to find Bill asleep beside her. This was not a remarkable discovery, except that she had gone to bed alone the night before. Her Bill was shut behind his library door, his thoughts and emotions unknown to her. Fleur did not know what time he finally came to bed, she herself had lain in bed with her sadness and anger for too long. And now in the light of a new day, Fleur held no anger, just bewilderment. They were having a beautiful moment on the beach, and then it was gone. Exploded in furious words. How it happened, she did not know. Where did Bill go? He was in their home, and yet far away.

Fleur knew what was at the root of Bill's anger. It was not the lycanthropy contamination, though the ignorant might assume so. It was the war: the mauling, the death of his friends, the worry for his family, all of it. He had nightmares. Sometimes she would catch him staring out the window of their bedroom at the horizon as if waiting for somebody to appear over the rise. He was waiting for Ron, she thought, the brother he could not account for.

Bill had spoken to Fleur about the first war. He had very clear memories of how frightened and worried his parents were in that time. He'd told her of elaborate plans for the children to escape if Death Eaters came to their home—plans that hinged on Bill, the eldest, being responsible for his many siblings. He talked of the pain of losing his uncles. And he talked of how his younger siblings did not have these memories and how it made them less cautious. Of course, he called them "more stupid," but Fleur knew what he meant.

When the first rays of sun crept through their bedroom window on September 2, Fleur rolled onto her side to watch her husband as he slept peacefully beside her. His hair was loose, a splash of red across the white pillowcase. The scars across his face, on his arm and the bit of bare chest she could see were softened by the hazy morning sunlight. She wondered, after nights like the previous one, if they had been foolish to marry so soon after the mauling. She had wanted to be his wife and, yes, to prove that her love for him was more than skin deep. Bill, in turn, had not wanted to let the war steal away their happiness, to prove to You-Know-Who that the Weasleys could not be broken. But perhaps they should have waited. Perhaps it would have been wiser to give Bill more time to heal, emotionally, before they wed.

She did not know. Sometimes the questions were on the tip of her tongue, but how could she ask them without it seeming like she regretted marrying him? And the last thing Fleur wanted was for Bill to think she had regrets because she did not. She loved him and she still wanted to be his wife even if he was angry and worried and heartsick. She just wished she knew how to heal him.

"Hey."

Sleepy blue eyes were staring at Fleur. It was like a storm had passed.

"'Hey'? Zat is not a proper 'good morning,'" she teased.

He grinned, a twinkle coming to his eyes. "No?"

One long arm snaked around Fleur's waist, and Bill rolled her under his body. He kissed her before she could say a word. Instinctively, her arms and legs went around him. She could feel his erection against her center and rocked against it, making him moan. Desire rushed through her, burning away her worries and memories of last night. She was in this moment of teasing and loving, and the time for talk somehow flitted away.

"How's that for a proper 'good morning?'" he asked, smirking down at her.

"Could be better," she replied.

Bill helped pull her nightgown off and tossed it on the floor. Fleur giggled as the cool morning air chilled her skin. She pulled Bill back in, loving the feel of her bare skin skimming against his. She ran her fingers over his shoulders lightly, feeling the muscles shift and twitch under her touch. He was kissing his way down her throat and chest, between her white breasts.

Desire pooled in her belly. Fleur made an agitated gurgle in the back of her throat, desperate to have him touch her breasts. This was familiar, this was easy. Touching her Bill, being touched by him. Wanting him. Maybe their love was enough. They said time healed all things, non?

"We're going to have to make this fast," Bill said, and she pouted. She could hear the smirk in his voice. "Can't be late for work, can we?"

The look he gave her—so full of raw need and love—sent a flush over every inch of Fleur's body. Bill dipped his head, taking her nipple between his lips. Her breath caught. She buried her fingers in his long hair. She was part Veela, she was supposed to know what men wanted, but it was Bill who knew her deepest needs. Desire stretched her belly tight and melted between her legs. He teased her with his tongue and teeth. Fleur tightened her thighs around his waist and rocked herself against his hard cock.

Bill groaned. "Easy there. I said quick, not embarrassingly short."

Fleur laughed, pulling his mouth back to hers. She had always imagined love making to be a serious business before she met Bill. She did not know there was room for laughter, or silly, inane words about the weather and their days. It was all so much more intimate than she ever could have known.

Returning his attention to her breasts, his hand was questing down between their bodies, gliding over her quivering belly to the top of her knickers. One finger dipped inside and teased the hair that covered her mons before sliding his hand around to squeeze her bottom. Fleur pushed up against him in protest.

"You are a-a...what is zee word?" she huffed.

His mouth came off her nipple, and he blew cool air over the tight bud. "A tease?"

"Oui! I do not like it."

He nipped her belly. "I think you do."

He was painting circles around her belly button with his tongue, drawing out the torment. She knew what was coming next. She spread her legs wider, trying to coax him into the place she most wanted him. He was the one who said they must be quick, but he liked his play. He liked to hear her sighs and pleas, and she did not hold back. Bill's hands were still grasping her hips, his fingers like brands through the thin material of her silky knickers. She squirmed beneath him. Feather light kisses rained down her abdomen, which was flushed and trembling under his touch. When he reached her knickers, he ran his tongue along the length of the band. He was so close.

"Promise me," he said huskily, hooking his fingers in the waistband. "That you'll always wear sexy knickers, even when we're old and wrinkly."

Then he drew them down, and she was bare to him.

"Was zat not in my wedding vows?" Fleur responded breathily.

Bill chuckled. Then he lowered his head, and his tongue swept through her folds. Fleur moaned. She thrust against his mouth. She pressed her thighs more tightly into his torso. They had discovered that she liked it better when her legs were caught under his body rather than around his shoulders. She could not get away, even if she wanted to, and sometimes she did. It was too great, the sensations he created in her body. It rocked and arched, she made little gasping noises, and all of it was out of her control. He stroked the bud at the top of her sex with his tongue. Fleur moaned, sinking her fingers into his hair, now he was trapped, too.

He reached up, cupping her breasts, twisting and tugging on her nipples. Thank Merlin for his long arms. Tugging in time to his licks, Fleur could take no more. Arching, her world collapsed in on itself, narrowing to the sweet dual torture of her husband's mouth and hands. She pressed herself into him, trying to capture every last wave of pleasure until she could take no more and rolled away, her body oversensitive and trembling.

"Merlin," he growled. "I love waking up to you every morning."

Fleur was still lying senseless and breathless as Bill's wet mouth pressed into her neck. Opening her eyes, a new need grew inside of her. She wanted to make him come undone, just as he had done to her. Her hands trailed down his chest, over the raised scars, sensitive nipples, patches of rough, ginger hair. The flat of his abdomen was tight under her fingers, the skin over his erection velvet soft and hot to the touch.

"Quick, remember?" he murmured in her ear, his eyes closed, his mouth tight with pleasure.

"We have a little time, n'est-ce pas?"

He was over her, braced on his elbows, kneeling between her thighs. She opened wider to him, dragging his tip through her wet center. His eyes darkened, his jaw clenched. She could see the muscles in his neck strain and reached up to kiss them.

"Now," he demanded.

Gripping her hips, Bill drove into her. Then he stilled, closing his eyes. They were joined. Fleur just looked at him, loving the feel of him over and inside of her. The sight of his face transported in pleasure. She wrapped her arms around his chest, running her hands down the tense muscles of his back to his buttocks. She squeezed.

"Bloody hell."

He pulled out and pushed back into her, Fleur coming up to meet him. His chest brushed lightly against her breasts. Fleur drew her knees up so she was tighter around him. Little gasps and moans escaped her as she arched against him again and again.

Bill came up on his knees so that each stroke rubbed her in exactly the place she needed him. Fleur could feel her climax building again. She fought against the urge to shut her eyes, to retreat into the black abyss of la petite mort. She wanted to watch him, to see the emotion in his eyes as he made love to her.

His thrusts were purposeful, extracting as much pleasure from her body as he could. His eyes had grown very dark with need and restraint. The walls of her sheath were beginning to tremble, clutching around his cock. Fleur caught the corner of her mouth between her teeth, arching her neck. Finally, her eyes snapped shut, her mouth forming an "O" even as only the throatiest of moans escaped. She dug her fingernails into Bill's hand.

He threw his head back. The tendons in his neck strained. He bit his bottom lip, the muscles in his face quivering. One…two…three…strong thrusts. He yelled out as he found his release. Then he collapsed into her, freeing her hands. Fleur wrapped her arms around his shoulders, still cradling his hips between her thighs.

"Zat was a proper 'good morning.'"

Bill chuckled against her chest.

oOo

While he was at Hogwarts, Percy picked up the habit of running. It was all Oliver's fault. The habit intensified after the Tri Wizard Tournament when his life was spiraling out of control, and it had become a near obsession in the months after he left home. In the last weeks, Percy found the joy and camaraderie of it again. He met Oliver and the sun most mornings for a long run that ended with the purchase of The Quibbler and a cup of tea. Another thing Oliver had been right about. That morning's edition of The Daily Prophet reported a smooth departure of yet another year's school children. The Quibbler had a detailed, eyewitness account of Justin Finch-Fletchley's arrest on Platform 9¾.

After reading the paper, Percy lit it on fire and kept careful watch as it turned to ash. He couldn't be seen with such seditious material. Then he went about preparing for another day at work.

He was typically early to work—the only person flushing into the Ministry most mornings, and this one was no different. He walked briskly through the Atrium to the lifts. He kept his eyes forward, studiously avoiding looking at that blasphemous and vile statue. Magic Is Might. The day it was installed, Percy had excused himself and been sick in the loo.

At his desk, Percy pulled out the report from the Muggle-born Registration Commission for the day. Fifteen names appeared on the list. Percy knew a moment's satisfaction in knowing that three of those people would not be appearing before the Commission due to the efforts of the Order of Mercy. But only a moment's. That still left twelve individuals at the dubious mercy of Dolores Umbridge.

Percy sighed, setting the report aside. As the morning wore on, the other employees began to arrive. Percy exchanged greetings, made tea, fixed up reports. Thicknesse came in with his entourage of Death Eaters. The office held its breath.

"Saw Runcorn on his way in," Thicknesse said to Theodore Nott, Sr. "He was on his way to visit with Arthur Weasley."

Percy's eyes remained locked on the report in front of him even as he strained to hear every word. He willed the blush to stay away, but he could feel the heat creep up his neck. Please, Dad, no.

"Indeed?" the other man drawled. "He's made contact with one of the Undesirables then?"

"No, more's the pity."

Then the door to the Minister's office closed, and work resumed as usual. Only Percy couldn't quite concentrate on the parchments in front of him. What did Runcorn want with his father if not to track down Harry Potter or Hermione Granger? Percy knew that the Ministry believed that Ron was at home with Spattergroit, even if Percy himself had serious doubts as to the veracity of that claim.

What should he do? Should he warn his father? Arthur Weasley was certainly more than a match for the likes of Albert Runcorn. There was some talk of Runcorn being a skilled duelist, but his dad's skills were well honed by his time with the Order of the Phoenix. While there were those who may think Arthur Weasley was dozy, Percy knew that the elder Weasley was, in fact, brilliant, but eccentric.

Percy forced himself to stay at his desk. He didn't want anyone to think his leaving the office had anything to do with what Thicknesse had said. After what he considered an appropriate amount of time had passed, he stood, collected a couple of files from his desk and muttered something about the commissary to no one in particular.

What now? He hadn't spoken to his father since the day he left the Burrow. Contact now could put them both in danger. It would also jeopardize Percy's ability to collect information for the Order of Mercy. Logically, Percy knew that he simply could not approach his father, but his heart was telling him something different.

For Merlin's sake, he had spent nearly his entire life ignoring what his heart wanted, why was it so difficult this time around?

A middle-aged witch from the Administrative Registration Department waved to him. Percy noted that she had a concerned look on her face. He smiled weakly in return. To cover his turmoil, he snapped open one of the files in his hands and buried his nose in it. He stopped at the lift, telling himself that he would simply go to the commissary like he said. Dad was a grown man and a good wizard, he could handle himself.

The lift gate opened and Percy stepped in, still staring at his file as if it were the most engrossing thing he'd ever read. In truth, it was a report on gumption rot in the Swamp of Byon near Rowenashire. The moment the door slid shut, the hairs on the back of Percy's neck stood up. He looked up to see not only his father standing beside him, but also Albert Runcorn just behind.

Heat swept up Percy's neck to his face and ears. He knew he must be bright red. His father was staring straight ahead, but Percy could see Dad's ears were also red and his posture unnaturally stiff. Dad was making every effort not to acknowledge Percy's presence. Was that because of Runcorn? Was the tall, menacing wizard in the process of threatening Dad when Percy stepped onto the lift? Surely not, the lift was hardly conducive to private conversations.

Or was it Percy himself? The things he'd said, the fact that he walked out. Percy looked away. Pain stabbed at his chest. He couldn't undo the past no matter how much he wanted to. He could only prove himself worthy enough to return.

The urge to tell Dad everything—how he had been wrong, how things had ended with Penelope, how the Order of Mercy came to be—was so strong. But when the lift doors opened again, Percy forced himself to get off. He wasn't even sure what level he was on, but it didn't matter.

Percy wandered around until he found the stairwell. Once behind its door, he leaned against the wall, files hugged to his chest, and took a deep breath. Did he do the right thing? Was Dad safe? Shakily, Percy started down the stairs, intent on the commissary.

He passed a table full of Aurors. Williamson was among them. Percy waved haltingly, the other man nodded in acknowledgement. Percy wondered again at the cryptic conversation he'd had with the young Auror the day before, but he pushed it from his mind. He was simply being paranoid.

After making himself a cup of tea, Percy sat at a table and opened his files. He looked through them, amused that he had managed to grab the most inconsequential reports on his desk. The bottom one was his very own report on the thickness of cauldron bottoms. He snorted and shook his head. All that work and it had taken three years to reach the Minister's office. It would never truly reach the Minister himself. Percy would file this away with all the other superfluous reports.

With a sigh, he closed the folio. He remembered the smug, proud boy he had been that summer when he began working for Mr. Crouch. He had thought himself and his work so important, but it wasn't. He could have spent half the time, written half the length, and it would have been more than adequate. He could have spent that time with Bill and Charlie, home for the Quidditch World Cup. He could have enjoyed having his entire family together, it didn't happen often.

A bright red memo in the shape of an airplane zipped into the commissary and into the hands of one the Aurors. Red was the color of emergency. Percy had only seen one red memo before, the night Dumbledore died and Bill was mauled. Out of the corner of his eye, Percy noticed the Aurors all stand from their tables. A flurry of wands were pulled from holsters. Percy sat up straighter, his full attention on the crimson-robed wizards.

"What's this?" Percy asked, standing.

"Intruders in the Ministry," said a mustachioed wizard. "We're putting the Ministry on lock down. Everybody in this room will have to stay put until further notice."

Intruders? Who would be bold enough—no, not bold. Who would be stupid enough to break into the Ministry? And for what reason? It couldn't be the Order of the Phoenix. Their numbers were too small and their position too precarious for such a caper. Spies? For the Order? Yes, perhaps, though Percy was sure that they had a few inside men left within the Ministry. His father for example.

Oh, Merlin, no. The realization hit Percy like a stunner to the chest. It was perfectly obvious, wasn't it? There were only three people bold and stupid enough to infiltrate the Ministry of Magic. Three people who had pulled off other brave, foolhardy stunts in the past, like challenging a twelve-foot tall mountain troll as first years or rescuing his little sister from the Chamber of Secrets. This smacked of the kind of recklessness typical of Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and one ginger git by the name of Ronald Weasley.

Dammit. Dammit. Dammit.

Percy stood up. If he got his hands on his little brother he was going to throttle him. What was that prat playing at? He and his friends were going to get themselves killed.

Forgetting his files, Percy marched to the exit where he was blocked by one of the Aurors.

"No one leaves," the man said, hand held aloft, palm out.

"I'm Percy Weasley."

"And I'm having a bad day. No one leaves."

"I'm with the Minister's office," Percy insisted. He drew himself up to his full height, straightening his shoulders so he could look down his long nose at the Auror, and hoped that acting superior would be enough to make the man back down.

"My condolences. No one leaves."

"I need to be with the Minister at a time such as this. Make way."

"Sit your arse down, and make yourself comfortable, Weasel. No one leaves."

Percy narrowed his eyes. Perhaps a tactical retreat was in order here? With one last pinched look at the Auror, Percy returned to his table. He set his hand down on top of his files. Now what?

He could duel his way out. Percy looked over his shoulder at the seasoned Auror and knew that wasn't a viable option. Percy himself was a decent dueler, but doubted he was a match for a fully-trained Auror. He could Confund the man. Percy looked around at the handful of other people in the commissary. Leaving the Auror senseless could place the rest of these people in danger if a battle began in the nearby Atrium. For surely the Atrium would be Potter's destination. It was the only place from which to escape the Ministry.

Percy crumpled the file under his hand. He had to get out of this bloody place. Maybe—probably—he couldn't be of any use, but he needed to do what he could to ensure that Ron and the others escaped. At the very least, he needed to see them safe. Looking down at the parchment in his hand, then around at where the other occupants of the commissary were huddled in the back corner or behind the food counter, an idea began to form. He looked again at the Auror stationed by the exit.

Nobody was paying him the slightest attention, time to act. Taking out his wand, Percy levitated the top file nearly to the ceiling in the center of the room. Then he hit it with a Confringo curse. The file burst into flame with a loud bang. Screams filled the room. Black smoke billowed along the ceiling and fiery embers fell to the floor.

"What the—" the Auror grunted and moved away from the door, eyes on the smoke that was shrouding the commissary in a haze.

Taking advantage of the turmoil he was creating, Percy levitated the next file to a point further away from the first, but lower. Again he cast a Confringo curse. This time the smoke filled the further reaches of the commissary. Screams and smoke filled the room, swallowing the Auror in its chaos. Percy cast a Disillusionment Spell over himself before levitating the last file to the other side of the room and exploding it. In the confusion, he made his escape.

The outer corridor was packed with witches and wizards being herded away from the Atrium. Percy, going in the opposite direction, was thankful for his slender build as he dodged and weaved through the crowd. As the hallway opened into the Atrium, Percy came to an abrupt halt.

There were still tens of dozens of people in the Atrium. Aurors were closing off the Floos. Others were being pushed back, told to report to their offices and stay put. And through all the chaos was Albert Runcorn, flanked by Mafalda Hopkirk and the soaking wet Reg Cattermole and his wife. Between them were a few dozen witches and wizards, some of them sporting the brick red triangle the Ministry forced all Muggle-borns to wear when they appeared before the Commission. The badge marked them as Mudbloods, stealers of magic.

"This lot need to leave before you seal the exits," announced Runcorn.*

The man looked like Runcorn, but he couldn't be. The man had spent the last weeks ingratiating himself with every Death Eater in the Ministry. He'd gone so far as to turn people into the bloody Commission for Merlin's sake! Why would he suddenly attempt to free Muggle-borns? It simply couldn't be Runcorn. And if it wasn't Runcorn, then it must be Potter.

All of these people were about to be released back into Britain where the Ministry would simply send Snatchers after them. Unless these ordinary, everyday witches and wizards were very quick and resourceful, they would be recaptured. Percy did not doubt that their fate would be quite dire for the embarrassment that the Ministry (and the Death Eaters that controlled it) were being handed at the moment by the hands of Harry Potter.

But Percy had the means to make sure that didn't happen. He covered his breast pocket with his hand, knowing the Muggle notebook was inside. He made a mad dash to the loo nearest his position. Closing himself inside a stall, he pulled the notebook and pen from the secret pocket in his robes.

oOo

Fleur was sitting at her desk when the notebook in her pocket warmed against her waist. With a look around, she pulled it out and flipped it open. The neat, blocky letters were unmistakably Percy's.

Trouble at the Ministry. Dozen Muggle-borns freed. Order of Mercy must organize rescue.

It felt as though her heart was galloping in her chest, but Fleur forced herself to stay calm. The first thing she must do was escape from the bank, the rest she would worry about later. Pulling open her top desk drawer, she eyed what looked to be sweets. Carefully, she chose two. She slipped one in her pocket and took a bite of the other.

And promptly vomited on her desktop. Puking Pastilles—disgusting but useful.

Fleur shot up from her chair, a stricken look on her face. Again she threw up, the sick splattering on the floor. The secretaries around her pulled back, gasping and squeaking in horror.

"Well, don't just stand there, you useless girl," Bodrod yelled.

Fleur puked again, straight down her pretty frock. She wondered if this time she had been truly sick. The smell and sight of the vomit was overwhelming. That was to say nothing of the slimy wet feeling of the vomit molding her frock to her front.

"Go! Get out of here!"

Fleur hurried out of the office with only her wand in hand. She dashed down the corridor, stopping every few feet to puke onto the tiled floor. Finally, she made her way to the Curse Breakers department. She took deep breaths through her nose, trying to control the uncontrollable. Fred and George might be brilliant wizards, but there was no longer any doubt in her mind, they were also evil.

"Weasley!" one of the witches yelled. "Your wife!"

Bill appeared from his office. The look of inquiry in his eyes had immediately transformed into concern. He moved as if in slow motion to the spot where Fleur stood. She managed to hold onto the contents of her stomach just long enough for him to come within touching distance of her, then she emptied them onto the floor. It splattered onto Bill's boots and trousers.

"Shite, Bill!" one of his colleagues swore. "You'd better get her to hospital."

Bill's arm came around Fleur's shoulders. "Can you walk?"

Fleur nodded, then doubled over to puke again. Merde, Fred and George were devils. Good men would not create such awful things. The trip through the back halls of the bank was a haze of vomit and crying. Once outside in the open air, Fleur took a deep, relieving breath. She fished around inside her pocket for the antidote and placed it in her mouth. Within moments, the vomiting stopped, but tears were still streaming down her cheeks.

"Fleur," Bill said quietly, he grasped her forearms, his brow puckered in confusion. "What is the meaning of this?"

She leaned on him heavily, and rasped, "I will tell you at home."

Within moments, they Apparated to Shell Cottage. Fleur forgot her promise to tell Bill everything, instead her heart and her mind were racing. Kicking off her shoes, Fleur ran to her home already thinking of her next step. At the steps to the porch, Fleur stopped and stripped off her frock. She took her notebook from its pocket, but left the disgusting garment in a heap on the ground, setting it on fire. Inside, she opened the pad and began scribbling messages to each member of the Order of Mercy.

"Fleur," Bill said as he stepped inside the door with her shoes in his hand. "I extinguished your frock before it set the whole damn house on fire."

"Merci," Fleur responded without looking up.

"What is going on?"

"I received a message from Percy. A group of Muggle-borns were set free from zee Ministry."

"What? How?"

"I do not know. He said zere was a dozen people and zeir families. I have already sent messages to Alicia, Angelina, and Oliver to be ready for instructions. Audrey is to come here. We will need a safe place for zee Muggle-borns and zeir families to Portkey from."

Bill nodded. "I can scout out a location." He moved closer, but stopped, and wrinkled his nose. "You still smell like puke."

"Oui, it is unfortunate."

"Can I-ah-at least get you some clothes before I leave?"

Fleur looked down at herself clad only in her bra, knickers, and stockings. "Merlin! Oui, s'il te plait!"

Notes:

* Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Chapter 13 "The Muggle-Born Registration Commission" p. 265

Chapter 14

Audrey came bounding into the kitchen of Shell Cottage to find Fleur sitting at the butcher's block in an old, blue frock. The blonde witch was bent over the Muggle notebook, parchment and quills spread around her. She didn't even glance up when the door banged shut, nor when Audrey leaned against the butcher block, only to jump back again.

"What is that smell?"

"Never mind zat," Fleur said, pushing a hank of hair behind her ear. She looked up at Audrey with a very serious expression pinching her beautiful face. It reminded Audrey of when her friend had been preparing for the final task of the Tri Wizard Tournament. Fleur had been so intent on proving herself after the debacle in the Black Lake, she wasn't about to leave anything to fate.

"You said there was an emergency?" Audrey asked.

"Oui," Fleur confirmed with one sharp nod of her head. "Percy said that there was a breakout at zee Ministry. A dozen Muggle-borns and we—"

"Wait!" Audrey interrupted. She curled her fingers into her palm. "Percy? Is he—"

"He is unharmed," Fleur said in a kind voice, her eyes softening just for a moment.

Something like relief washed through Audrey. Which was stupid. She liked Percy and they were having a lot of fun, but it was not as if she cared for him.

"Tell me," Audrey said, pushing away all thoughts of tall, bespectacled wizards.

"He has a list of zee names," Fleur continued, resuming her former manner. "He has already sent zem to me, he is trying to find addresses for all of zem. Alicia is ready and awaiting orders. Angelina is having trouble getting away from training. I have not heard from Oliver yet. My parents are preparing to receive zee refugees—"

"Whoa!" Audrey held up her hands. "Take a deep breath, then. Where is Bill?"

"Right here."

Bill walked through the door looking windswept and exhilarated. It was obvious that he was primed for action. His eyes were sparkling with excitement, and his body was tight like a spring ready to pop. He was thrumming with energy. Bill flashed a wolfish grin at Fleur, who was the rankest thing that Audrey had smelled since her brothers learned to do laundry. Fleur did not seem to notice Bill or the smell.

"I found a spot a bit down the coast. There's a thicket of trees to provide cover," Bill reported. "I'll take Audrey there. I'll stay with her to help set Portkeys and provide protection."

Fleur nodded. "D'accord. Bien."

"I'll need objects to use as Portkeys," Audrey said.

Fleur slid off her stool and walked out of the kitchen. Audrey followed her into the sitting room. Her friend conjured a bag, pulled a large wooden box from a drawer in the hutch and proceeded to dump all of the good silver into the bag.

"Here," Fleur said simply, thrusting the bag at Audrey.

oOo

As Junior Assistant to the Minister of Magic, no one thought it strange when Percy demanded the files for the escaped Muggle-borns to be brought to his desk with alacrity. Pouring over them, memorizing names and addresses was not in the least suspicious. Finding the time to escape into the loo or a broom cupboard to relay that information to Fleur, on the other hand, proved difficult.

It was a slow process. Much slower than he would have preferred. He couldn't be seen as leaving his desk more than normal, so he had to cram as much information onto the notepad as possible in one visit to the loo. On the other hand, he couldn't be away from his desk for overly long periods without rousing suspicion. And in the current climate, suspicion was easily aroused.

Meanwhile, he was monitoring the investigation of the break-in and subsequent breakout. He'd nearly snapped his quill in two when he'd learned that Yaxley had followed Harry, Ron and Hermione through the Floo. Yaxley had not reported into the Ministry after that, but Percy was trying very hard not to consider why that was.

The Auror department, in the meantime, were investigating the break-in. Apparently, Runcorn and Mafalda Hopkirk had wandered into the Ministry dazed and confused. Both had been in interrogation for hours. Reg Cattermole, on the other hand, was nowhere to be seen. Percy was almost positive that the Reg Cattermole he had seen in the Ministry earlier in the day was in fact Percy's very own baby brother.

Finally, almost as an afterthought, the Snatchers were being brought in to hunt down the escaped Muggle-borns. The Ministry did not seem in a hurry to track them down. Most likely, as Percy learned through his reports, because most of the Muggle-borns were now wandless. But Percy thought there was a good deal of arrogance in the mix as well. The Ministry were underestimating the Muggle-borns ability to evade capture. Regardless, Percy was thankful for the delay as that gave the Order of Mercy time to mobilize.

oOo

F—

Just saw your message. I've been unceremoniously promoted, but I'll get away from training as soon as possible.

—O

F—

I was nearly hexed by the Cattermoles, but they are secure. The entire family—mother, father and three children—accounted for. I've taken them to the safe house in Wales. Awaiting further instruction.

—AJ

O—

Retrieve Wilber Leatherby. Known address 5 Cranston Dundee, Scotland.

—F

F—

I have Constance Milbury in hand, but she will not leave her residence until her children are collected. The husband is retrieving two of them from a relative, but another is at Hogwarts. Please send instruction.

—AS

AS—

You must make the Milburys see reason. We cannot retrieve a child from Hogwarts, it would put the other refugees at risk, to say nothing of the Order of Mercy. We can retrieve the child at Christmas holiday.

—F

F—

The Cattermoles have just left by Portkey. Everything went smoothly on this end. We are ready for the next family.

—B

F—

Milbury family just moved to Puddlemere safehouse. The mother nearly had a breakdown. She may need a Calming Draught before she can Portkey. I would recommend we move them next.

—AS

B—

I need you to retrieve a potion and help AS move a family from Puddlemere.

—F

F—

Close call retrieving Simon Smith and family. I saw some nasty looking wizards moving in on the house before we Disapparated. They are secure at the coastal safe house awaiting Portkey.

Warn the girls to be watching for Snatchers.

—O

F—

The Milburys have departed. I'm not leaving the evacuation sight again. Night is coming and Audrey needs me to watch her back. How many more are there? We need to wrap this up.

—B

F—

Got the drop on some Snatchers. They were at the Pilsworth residence ahead of me. Only two of them and I stunned both of them before I was seen. Mr. and Mrs. Pilsworth are in Wales awaiting the next stage of travel. We are running out of time.

—AJ

oOo

It was after seven o'clock before the Minister left his offices. Thicknesse and his cronies left in an agitated huff of exhaustion and outrage. Percy couldn't help but think that the next work week was going to be unbearable. With the Minister staying late, the entire office was held hostage at their desks. This meant more than twelve hours at the Ministry for Percy.

But the moment that Thicknesse's cape was out of sight, all of Percy's co-workers gathered up their things and left. Percy lingered at his desk as was his norm, but in truth he wanted to rush out of the Ministry to Shell Cottage. He had not heard any word on the rescue operation and he was anxious to know that the Muggle-borns were being safely moved. He was also worried for the friends and family who were putting their lives at risk to save those Muggle-borns.

Putting his mind to his usual, nightly routine, Percy tidied up his desk. He made sure he had all the files he needed safely tucked into his secret pocket and that nothing incriminating was left on his desk. Just because it had been a long and arduous day that left him exhausted was no reason to be sloppy now.

As Percy prepared to exit the office, an interdepartmental memo whizzed into his office and began ramming into his head. Percy caught the paper aeroplane, noting that it was violently red. His heart lurched into his throat. He tried to swallow as he whipped open the memo. His eyes scanned the contents:

Snatchers foiled four times by unknown persons assisting the fugitives.

Eight other fugitives already missing from their residencse by the time Snatchers arrived.

Interference by rebel groups suspected. Possibly the Order of the Phoenix.

Deadly force will be used on any individuals working to subvert Ministry business.

ALERT: Magical activity detected in Cornwall near St. Ives. Possibly moving fugitives abroad from this location. Need ten men to report to location. Another ten on standby.

Cornwall. St. Ives. Percy shut his eyes, crumpling the memo in his hand. That was quite far from Shell Cottage, but Bill wouldn't have chosen a location near his home for this operation. If this was indeed the location from which the refugees were taking the Portkey, then Audrey would be there. Percy stuck the wrinkled memo in his secret pocket and hurried to the Minister's Apparition Point.

He'd run nearly the entire way, but came to a skidding halt just before the bend. Forcing himself to a sedate pace, he wiped the sweat from his brow with his handkerchief. Please, let him appear normal to the security wizard on duty. Don't allow him to raise suspicion.

Percy approached the kindly wizard. "Hello, Englebert."

"Good evening, Mr. Weasley," the older man replied.

They'd made this exchange a thousand times, but that evening it seemed wrong. This man had worked for the Ministry since Percy was a child. He remembered him from tours with his father. Percy should be honoring the man by calling him "Mr. Smith", not the other way around.

"Sorry to tell you, sir," Englebert Smith said, "but I cannot allow you to Disapparate from here. New decree just today. Only the Minister and his closest advisors may Disapparate in and out of the Ministry."

"Oh."

Dammit. This meant a long walk to the lifts, then a ride for seven levels to the Atrium, only to Floo into that public loo, and he still wouldn't be able to Disapparate until he found a deserted alleyway. Percy gave a sharp nod, turned on his heel and marched away. Once out of site, he broke into a dead run.

Thankfully, very few people were still inside the Ministry of Magic at this time of the night. No one witnessed Percy's mad dash, nor did he have to wait for the lift. It was a straight shot from the first level to the eighth, then a quick paced walk across the Atrium and into the Floo. Appearing in a toilet was always a bit off-putting, but Percy didn't give it much thought in this particular instance. He jumped down from the toilet seat and sprinted into the London street.

The Muggle street was still bustling with people. Mostly overworked government types like Percy himself, only without magic. Percy pushed his way through, scanning the area for a good place to Disapparate and not paying attention to where he was going. He jostled and bumped people as he went, not bothering to apologize and barely noticing the curses thrown at him. Finally, he spotted a likely alley.

Hoping it was not inhabited by ruffians, Percy dodged into the shadows. With barely a look around, he Disapparated into nothingness and reappeared again on the beach near Shell Cottage. The sand slipped under his feet as he awkwardly ran to the house. He burst into the house panting and gasping for breath. Fleur was sitting at the butcher's block, scribbling across a piece of parchment, the Muggle notebook and pen sitting at her elbow.

"Ugh! What is that smell?"

"It is me," Fleur snapped. "Sit down and be quiet."

"Where is Bill?"

"He is wiz Audrey down zee coast. Zey are waiting on zee last refugee and her family."

"Their position has been compromised. The Snatchers are on their way."

Fleur's head snapped up. She grabbed her wand from the work top and bolted off her stool.

"Let us hurry."

oOo

The sun had sunk below the horizon, casting shadows over the thicket of trees that concealed Bill and Audrey. This operation was taking too much time, and Bill didn't like it. He felt on edge, as if every nerve ending in his body was vibrating with Muggle electricity. He'd felt this way before, on the night of the Battle of Little Helga and again before the Battle of the Astronomy Tower. It was as if the very air was alive with violence waiting to ignite.

He glanced at Audrey behind him. She was tapping a teaspoon against her thigh. One more family and the mission was over. Bill pulled the Muggle notebook from his back pocket and wrote in it:

Are the last refugees en route?

Just as he was stuffing the notebook back in his pocket, the crack of Apparition had him spinning about, wand at the ready. Angelina Johnson stood there with an elderly witch and wizard. Bill lowered his wand by a fraction. Audrey was casting the spell to turn the teaspoon into a Portkey. He felt the notebook heat up in his back pocket.

"Let's wrap—"

A Confringo curse blasted Bill off his feet. Audrey screamed, but a quick glance told him that she was just startled. He scrambled to his feet. Angelina had already cast a shield over the refugees and Audrey. Bill threw several Stunners at black figures rushing out of the shadows. A grunt followed by a thud told him that one spell connected.

"Hurry, Audrey!" Bill yelled. "Johnson, stay on Audrey and the refugees. I'll take the incoming wizards."

A Snatcher charged Bill. He tossed a Full Body-Bind curse at him and Stunned the one behind. The one to his left turned into a duck and pecked his ankle.

"You lot are idiots," Angelina screamed. "You need my help more than she does."

BOOM!

oOo

"Holy shite!" Bill yelled.

Not that anyone could hear him. The explosion had effectively deafened everybody in the copse. But it had also knocked a half dozen Snatchers on their arses. Audrey briefly glanced at her handy work before turning her attention to the Portkey. Thirty seconds and the blasted thing should turn blue. Come on….

The elderly couple looked terribly frightened, but Bill and Angelina had the remaining Snatchers in hand. Audrey strengthened the shield charm set around the old couple, who were clutching the teaspoon between them. Fifteen seconds. Come on….

Audrey was only barely keeping it together. She'd turned one of the butter knives into a bomb using a curse she had created just for this purpose. This was her first opportunity to try it. She supposed she was relieved that it had worked so well. Still, a jittery energy was coursing through her, making her tremble all over.

Ten seconds….

A jet of green gouged the ground inches from the shield.

Nine….

Audrey turned to see a second wave of Snatchers come charging through the trees.

Eight….

A quick glance at the elderly couple told Audrey that they were still behind the protection of the shield. They were still clutching the Portkey.

Seven….

Audrey Summoned another utensil from the bag on the ground.

Six….

Come on! Come on!

Five….

An Impediment Jinx hit Audrey in the chest. Her breath left her. She was hurled back, crashing into a tree and crumpling to the ground.

oOo

Through a thicket of Snatchers, Fleur saw Bill. He was Stunning and Blasting wizards out of his way. A shadow next to him was Angelina Johnson, Stunning anyone who came into her path. Percy was at Fleur's side. He was Confunding enemies before Stunning them. They were just four, with a dozen Snatchers caught between them, hardly an advantage.

"Do you see Audrey?" Percy yelled.

"No!"

Fleur aimed a Confringo Maxima at the ground. Dirt, debris, and enemy combatants went flying. She whipped around and Stunned another. She ducked a purple hex, and it struck the Snatcher behind her. He fell to the ground with a gaping, bloody wound across his back.

Tearing her eyes away from the bleeding man, Fleur looked across the battlefield. Bill was dueling two Snatchers. She saw one of them cast a Killing curse. Fleur stopped breathing. A scream was stuck in her chest, trying to claw its way to her throat but unable to because her heart was firmly lodged there. Bill sidestepped, the curse struck the ground. Fleur burst forward with a desperate cry.

Gliding between bodies, Fleur's eyes were on her husband's ginger ponytail as it whipped back and forth. The need to be at his side filled every nerve and blood vessel in her body. A man knocked into her, and Fleur sunk her elbow into his ribs. She used a ramming hex to clear two others from her path. A hand grabbed her, but a severing charm released its hold as several fingers fell to the ground.

Fleur had to get to him, her Bill.

"The Portkey is gone!" screamed Angelina. "The refugees are gone!"

oOo

"Retreat!" Fleur cried.

Just feet from Percy, Angelina Johnson Disapparated. But where was Audrey? Percy tore his eyes away from the wizards in front of him to scan the copse for the little witch. He hadn't seen her since he had Apparated, and there was something in that fact that made his heart race. Looking across the clearing, Percy saw Bill still dueling with Fleur at his side. His elder brother wouldn't retreat until Percy did, but he had to know that Audrey was safe first. A jet of light nearly hit Percy, forcing his attention back to the crisis at hand.

Percy spun to meet his assailant. He hit the unwitting man with a Confundus curse and watched as the man hexed one of his allies. Seeing a path open, Percy wasted no time in casting a shield over himself and dodging between Snatchers. He scanned the ground for Audrey.

There. Her name was on the tip of his tongue, a smile threatening even as more Snatchers closed in. Audrey was alive. She was standing shakily, unnoticed at the moment by the enemy combatants.

A man in a leather cape appeared in front of Percy, wand pointed menacingly at his chest.

"Weasley?" the man cackled.

That moment of relief evaporated. Percy clutched his wand until he could feel the groove of it imprinting in his hand.

"Why am I not surprised?" the man sneered. "Wonder what I'll get paid for bringing in a traitor?"

While the man was still crowing over his good fortune, Percy stunned him. With a shaking wand, Percy performed a memory charm. It was quick, shoddy work. He may well have left the man a doddering idiot. Percy couldn't quite muster up any guilt as he spied Audrey dueling another Snatcher.

Percy surged forward, his heart in his throat. A hex bounced off Audrey's shield, but she faltered. She looked unsteady on her feet as she cast her own curse that went wide of its mark. Another Snatcher rushed at Percy, but he blasted the man out of the way.

With one last desperate burst of speed, Percy made it to Audrey's side. He Stunned the Snatcher she was dueling. He didn't wait to see the man fall. Percy wrapped one long arm around Audrey's waist, spun in place, and Disapparated with a pop.

oOo

The squeezing sensation of Apparition ended. Audrey's lungs expanded along with the panic that gripped her insides. Her legs felt like jelly, hardly equipped to hold her up, the arm around her middle was doing that job. She struggled against her assailant's hold—frantic to get away. She kicked, her heel connecting with shin. He grunted. Audrey reared back, her skull struck collarbone. Pain seared through her head, and she whimpered.

"Audrey…. Hey!" The man pushed her hair back.

She wrenched away, clawing at the arm around her shoulders.

"Audrey, shh. Shh. It's okay," a deep voice soothed. "You're safe."

The timber of that voice broke through Audrey's panic. She knew those deep, careful tones. The relief that washed through Audrey was as sudden as the rise of panic had been, leaving her trembling in the arms of the man behind her. Merlin, she had thought she was done for. Being thrown against that tree knocked the breath out of her and left her with various aching body parts. She'd lain on the ground for what felt like hours, stunned and sore, but she saw that old couple spin out of sight to safety and knew that their mission was a success. She'd used that as motivation to get to her feet, to keep fighting.

But that duel with the Snatcher was more than she could handle. She was a good witch, but not an experienced duelist. To make matters worse, she was weak and shaky from the earlier blast. She thought for sure she was a dead woman when the next thing she knew, she was Disapparating.

Turning in Percy's arms, Audrey fisted his shirtfront in both hands and pressed her mouth against his. Adrenaline was merging with lust and gratitude. The trembling ceased, replaced with a new, more pleasurable tingle all across her skin.

"You saved me," she breathed.

"Yes, well, let's get you inside."

It was dark, but Audrey thought they were in an alley. There was the smell of rubbish perfuming the air, a scrap of light at the end of the lane that revealed cement and the occasional passerby. Looking up at Percy, his glasses glinted a bit in the night.

"Did you bring me back to your place?"

"Hm?" He pushed his glasses up, the other arm still securely around her. "Well…I reckon I did."

Whether by design or not, Audrey couldn't regret Percy's decision. A low hum was vibrating just under her skin. She wanted inside Percy's flat, and inside his pants. He grabbed her hand, pulling her out of the alleyway and up the steps to his building. They thundered up to his floor. Percy made quick work of the wards on his door, and before Audrey knew it, he'd shoved her inside his flat and slammed the door behind him.

Audrey didn't hesitate to wrap her arms around Percy and start kissing him again. That energy that was thrumming under her skin ratcheted up another notch, making her feel reckless and needy. Kissing Percy wasn't going to be enough. She needed something that she couldn't quite understand yet, but she thought shagging Percy would get her there. One of his hands cupped her head, his thumb rubbing circles into base of her skull. Audrey stood on tiptoe so she could press into him more firmly, but Percy pulled away. She grunted in frustration.

"Have to set wards," he panted.

With his wand pointed at the door, Percy cast charms against it. Audrey trailed kisses down his throat. She could see the flush of red flaring up his neck. His skin felt warm under her lips. She found his pulse point and sucked it lightly. He groaned, she could feel his vocal cords vibrating against her mouth. His free hand gripped her hip.

Audrey yanked his tie loose and tossed it on the floor. Percy kept working, but his hold on her hip tightened. Tiny proof that she distracted him, and Audrey liked being a distraction. With both hands, she attacked the button at his throat, but it proved a formidable opponent for her shaky fingers. Finally, Percy undid it himself, revealing another inch of freckled skin. The other buttons proved less challenging, parting to reveal more coppery freckles and the gingery hair that lightly covered his chest. Finally, she undid the last button and yanked his shirttails from his waistband. She skimmed her hands over his abdomen and up his sides. His muscles contracted under her touch, and he groaned again. With a grin, she found his pink nipple and flicked her tongue over it.

"Bloody hell!" Percy yelled. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her head back. He kissed her quick and hard. "I nearly blew up the door, you saucy wench."

Audrey laughed. "Are you talking dirty to me, Gryffindor?"

Percy's cheeks flared bright red. There was a look in his eyes that was half desire and half frustration, and all hot. Her hands were still on his bare skin, skimming over his flat chest and around to his back. He wasn't musclebound, but he was strong and fit. Audrey admired the contour of his shoulder muscle as her hands trailed over tight back muscles.

"You are going to be the death of me," he growled.

With a final swish of his wand, Percy finished setting the wards. Audrey took a moment to cast a contraceptive charm on herself, she wasn't that reckless. Struggling to get his cuffs undone at the same time that Audrey was pushing his shirt from his shoulders, their combined effort had him half naked. Maybe after they shagged she would admire her handiwork, but now she wanted to be skin to skin. She pulled her top over her head, sucking in a breath as the cotton tore away from the wounds on her back. Later, she would worry about that later. Unhooking her plain white bra, she let it fall to the floor, and pushed herself against Percy again, finally rubbing her naked skin against his.

"Wait," Percy grunted. He pushed her back gently by the shoulders.

"No. No waiting, Percy, I want you."

Since that night in her old bedroom, Percy had been telling Audrey to wait, and she was through with it. She didn't want to slow down, or take her time, or wait. He was looking at her, his dark eyes caressing her pert breasts and raspberry nipples. If she let him, he'd make this meaningful. Taking his face in her hands, she forced him to match her gaze, hoping her determination was reflected there. He looked into her eyes for a moment then he hunched down to press his lips into her throat. They slid down the column of her neck to her collarbone, his tongue traced that delicate wing until he found her shoulder and he nipped her with sharp teeth. Surprise and excitement detonated in Audrey's center. His hands skimmed over her shoulders to her back. Audrey squeaked when his fingers painfully brushed over her injuries.

"What—" Percy pulled back, concern pushing the lust from his eyes. He started to turn her so he could see the wounds on her back.

"No, it's nothing," Audrey insisted.

"Audrey, you're hurt."

She pushed his hands away. "It's nothing. Quit fussing and fuck me already, Percy!"

Percy looked conflicted. All that overwrought Gryffindor nobility was obviously warring with the visible erection in his trousers. Deciding that it was better to take fate into her own hands than see which part of Percy's nature won out, Audrey reached for his belt. She undid his trousers, pushing them down his hips. His eyes were darkening as he watched her work. Her hands were at the waistband of his shorts. He was watching her, his mouth held so tightly that it quivered under the pressure, his chest barely moving with his shallow breaths. Audrey's hand slipped inside his pants and quested over flat, hair-covered skin so heated it nearly burned her fingers. When she wrapped her small hand around his member, his eyes closed, and he groaned.

"Touch me, Percy," she whispered, stroking him slowly.

His hands found her breasts.

"Merlin, just right," he breathed and flicked his thumbs over her erect nipples.

Audrey pushed herself into his hands. He was rolling her nipples between his forefinger and thumb, giving them a slight tug. Audrey moaned, but she knew this wasn't enough. She started pushing his clothes off his hips. Seeing her intent, Percy toed his shoes off. Then he was helping to extract her from the last bits of her clothing.

When they were both naked but for their socks, Percy pulled Audrey against him for a kiss. Nipping her bottom lip. Entering her with his tongue. He lifted her up, Audrey's arms and legs going around him and his hands grasping her bare bottom. Audrey arched against him, reveling in the feel and texture of her soft skin against the hard, hair dusted plains of his.

"Let's…" he panted.

"Yes."

Audrey sucked on his earlobe and kissed his neck as he carried her back to the bedroom.

"Dammit!"

His shin banged against the corner of the ridiculously big coffee table. Percy's hands slipped, his knees buckling under him. Audrey shrieked, her fingers losing their grip on his shoulders. Then they were both on the ground, Audrey sprawled over Percy. She giggled, righting herself, wiggling over him.

"This is not—" he muttered.

"Shut it, Gryffindor."

She silenced him with a kiss. Forget the bedroom, the floor would do, so long as they were shagging and soon. She realized now that it wasn't just lust driving her, it was gratitude. Not just for Percy, but also for the gods who spared her life this night. However, she'd shower the full force of her gratefulness on Percy. Most of all, she wanted to feel alive. Percy's fingers skimmed up the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh with aching gentleness. She shivered under his touch, her bits clenching with anticipation. If she wasn't careful Percy was going to turn this quick, life-affirming shag into something that resembled lovemaking.

Audrey started to pull away, but his arm was around the small of her back, stopping her.

"Percy—"

"Shh." He was sitting up fully now, her knees still planted on either side of his thighs. His hand found her there, and Audrey shuddered.

"You don't…" she whispered, turning her chin away, her hair falling in her face.

"Yes, I do."

Two long fingers slid into her. Audrey clenched around him, biting her lip to suppress a betraying moan, but every other part of her body reacted to his touch. From her blunt nails digging into his freckled shoulders to her nearly non-existent breaths. With his other hand, Percy grasped her chin, holding her still so he could kiss her. His tongue stroked the same slow rhythm as his fingers as they slid in and out of her. Then he was meandering through her folds, finding her clitoris and paying it all due respect. He was building something in her that was hot and tight, but he was also stripping away the urgency with which she had originally attacked him. He was building emotion, laying bare vulnerability. Audrey wasn't going to be vulnerable with Percy.

"Percy," she muttered, pushing against his shoulder. "This isn't…I want…."

Audrey reached down between them and stroked his cock. He gasped.

"Merlin, you minx, your touch…."

Audrey pushed his hand away from her body. "I want you now."

The heat in Percy's eyes when he looked at her, the bite of his fingers on her hips, re-fired Audrey's blood. She was in control of her fate. A smile curled her lips as she positioned the tip of his penis at her entrance. The head brushed her wetness, and she teased him a bit just to watch his pupils dilate. She did it again, and Percy swore. That's when she sank onto him, inch by inch, feeling him fill her up and stretch her.

"You like that?" Audrey whispered in his ear. She began to move her hips, but his grip on her hips tightened.

"Not…not yet. Just…. Oh, Merlin." Percy's trembling hands moved up her waist and ribcage. He pressed his face into her chest, kissing her clumsily.

"I didn't compromise your virtue, did I?" Audrey half-joked. Please say no.

Percy shook his head. "Been awhile…but…." He took a steadying breath. "I don't think virginities grow back."

Surprised laughter bubbled out of Audrey.

Well, there went her orgasm. If the strain in Percy's voice meant anything, this was going to be over fast. A quick shag was what she wanted, right? Probably should have let him finish what he started earlier. Audrey rocked her hips against him, dragging a moan from Percy throat. Slowly at first, they moved against each other, grunting and panting, finding their rhythm. Then Percy grabbed her hips again, he drove into her with more force and Audrey cried out.

"You like that?" he teased and did it again.

She did. She liked Percy in charge more than she cared to admit.

There wasn't a lot of finesse. His thrusts were urgent, powerful, and had Audrey moaning. She pushed back with the same need she could feel building inside of him, clutching him with her inner muscles with each pass, drawing out the pleasure. Maybe if he were the one to lose control….

"Oh, Merlin," he gasped.

With one last, hard thrust, Percy came inside of Audrey. The torrent was over. She wrapped her arms around him, he pressed his face against her chest. They sat on the floor, sticky and sweaty in one another's embrace until finally, Percy pulled back. He looked into her eyes, and pushed her hair from her face.

"Sorry," he muttered, "that was—"

"Great," Audrey assured him.

Percy pushed his glasses up. "You are being generous, I think." He touched her back gently. "Let me fix you up then maybe we can try this again. I'm sure I can do better than that."

"I would say it Exceeded Expectations."

He gave her a quick kiss and smirked. "I'm an overachiever, remember? Only Outstanding will do."

Chapter 15

Despite the fact that they had just shagged on the floor by the coffee table and that she had rather aggressively initiated the whole thing, Audrey was feeling rather awkward about walking naked through Percy's flat. And while she appreciated the view of his freckled arse as he led her into his bedroom, it was pressing into her that she didn't actually know him that well. She'd slept with men on shorter acquaintance, but this time it felt different somehow. But how? She couldn't find an answer to that.

Percy lit the room with a flick of his wand. Audrey stood in the doorway, one arm folded across her breasts and her legs crossed and pressed tight. He turned down the plain brown coverlet to reveal crisp white sheets. She wondered why he had chosen those sheets for his bed, but then realized that he hadn't. No thought had gone into any part of this flat, save for the wardrobe and bookcase. He had just bought the first thing at hand.

Now that the adrenaline was spent, Audrey was acutely aware of how badly her back hurt. She leaned against the doorframe with a little grimace. She could feel the sting from where it must be scraped, and all of her muscles were sore and achy. She looked at the bed longingly and realized that she really did just want to lie down.

Percy turned around. Audrey's eyes swept over his body appreciatively. She had thought he would be softer somehow. She liked that he had a layer of taught muscle to his lanky height. She wondered what he did to stay so fit. And then there was that. That was nice…that was better than nice…it was…well, very, very nice. And while she watched, it was also becoming hard, which was even nicer.

"Er, Audrey," Percy muttered.

Her eyes flew up to meet his. She laughed even as she felt her cheeks grow warm. Merlin, she'd just been caught checking out Percy Weasley's wand.

Then he was standing in front of her, a smile playing around his mouth. "See anything you like?"

Audrey burst out with a loud laugh. "You are so very unexpected, Gryffindor."

"I don't think I've ever been told that before."

A full smile was on his face now. It was a different smile than the one that Audrey was accustomed to. There was always something so tentative about his normal smiles, as if they did not belong on his face. But this smile was relaxed and joyful, and it was reflected by the spark of mischief in his eyes. Audrey reached up and touched the corner of his mouth. She rather liked that smile, she decided, it was a good look on him.

"Come lie down," he said. "Let me take care of you."

Taking her hand, Percy led her over to the bed. Audrey lie stomach down on the bed sheets which were a bit scratchy against her skin. Percy drew the sheet up to her waist. It surprised her how much she appreciated his effort to preserve her modesty. Then gentle fingers probed a sore spot on her back. Audrey sucked in a breath and turned her face so that it was pressed into the mattress.

"How bad does it look?" she asked.

"Not as bad as it feels, I'm sure," he murmured. "I need a few supplies. I'll just be right back, then."

Peeking out, Audrey saw Percy pull on a pair of white pants before disappearing from the room. She smiled, thinking that he needed more color in his life. Those were old man drawers. She wondered what he would do if she bought him a pair of black silk boxers or a thong. She giggled to herself. She'd seen those in a Muggle magazine once and couldn't imagine their appeal. But now, the appeal would be in the stricken look on Percy's face when she presented them to him.

Soon, Percy returned, a tray with vials of potions hovering before him. He set it on the side table, then sat on the edge of the bed. He crooked one long leg so that his warm thigh was pressed lightly against Audrey's flank. He brushed her hair aside with gentle fingers. Audrey's eyes drifted shut, reveling in the tender touch.

"How did you get hurt?" Percy asked quietly. She really did like his voice. It was deep and smooth, but a bit formal in that way of a person who had taught himself to speak properly.

"I was blasted into a tree by an Impediment curse," Audrey answered, stifling a grimace as he probed a sore spot. "The tree was not forgiving."

"Hm." His hand skimmed over her back. "Did you hit your head?"

Audrey reached up and prodded a lump on the back of her head gingerly. "Banged it a bit, but I didn't lose consciousness."

Percy checked out the lump next. "That's a nasty goose egg there." He gasped. "I pulled your hair."

"Don't worry about it." She tossed him a saucy look over her shoulder. "I rather enjoyed it actually."

He flushed and cleared his throat. "Well, then, I-I'll just cleanse your wounds before we get started. I'm afraid it might sting a bit."

Audrey tried for a brave smile, but was sure that it came out rather sickly. She buried her head in her arms again, biting her lip in hopes of preventing herself from making any embarrassing noises. Percy dabbed at her wounds with a cotton cloth, and the cleansing potion did sting. Audrey tensed against the pain. Then she felt Percy blow cool air over the spot.

His tenderness brought tears to her eyes. Audrey wanted to say something outrageous, something that would make Percy blush and stop treating her with such care. Because when he was kind to her, it made her want things she'd never wanted from a man before. Something more than physical.

"I was really scared," she admitted.

Percy set the cloth aside and brushed her hair away from her face. "Oliver's dad says every Gryffindor must one day come to the realization that there is no bravery without fear."

"I'm no Gryffindor."

"That doesn't mean you can't be brave."

Tears and snot were running down her face. Audrey sniffed noisily. Percy offered her a handkerchief, and Audrey couldn't help the startled grin that spread across her face. She mopped her face, blubbering a bit into the handkerchief. She couldn't believe that she was making such a spectacle of herself in front of Percy.

"I think half our meetings have ended with me in tears," Audrey said. "You must think me pathetic."

"I thought perhaps you were a watering pot."

Audrey shot him a sharp glance, only to find a small smirk on Percy's face.

"But I won't hold it against you," he teased.

A laugh gurgled out of her. "Pathetic."

"I made you laugh."

"At you."

Percy shrugged. "I like your laugh—almost as much as I like your smile. I don't care much how it comes about."

Audrey's heart clenched in her chest. "I'm all teeth and hair, my best attributes."

"And eyes," Percy added.

Audrey buried her head in the pillow. "I think I'm ready for the next part," she said. She was thankful that her voice was muffled because she was crying again.

"It'll hurt, I'm afraid."

"Just-just make it quick."

Just as Percy said, it hurt. Healing was a painful process; skin didn't simply knit together good as new without stinging. Given the number of wounds on her back, Audrey's skin felt as though it were on fire, but she gritted it out with her eyes squeezed shut and her teeth sunk into her bottom lip. Then Percy set a cooling spell across her back and Audrey moaned with relief. Her shoulders relaxed, and her hips unclenched. It felt as if she sunk further into the mattress, and she sighed.

Percy drew one finger lightly down her spine, and Audrey shivered. His fingers ghosted over her skin from the nape of her neck to where the sheet covered her bum. Every nerve ending—which had so recently cringed away from pain—now strained eagerly for the pleasure of his feathery touch. His fingers trailed down her ribs, skimming the side of her breast. Audrey arched, purring with need.

Rolling onto her back, Audrey looked up at Percy. The smirk faded from her face when she saw how he was looking at her. His eyes were taking in her body, like a slow, hot caress, and her body responded in kind. Whatever part of her that his eyes touched tingled: her breasts, her belly, her hips. She cursed the sheet that hid her thighs from him.

"I think we could add a few more items to your list of best attributes," Percy murmured, his voice deeper.

Audrey arched her back, thrusting out her small breasts that Percy was admiring so studiously. She wanted to demand that he touch her, but couldn't quite find her voice. She could only stare at his face as her body hummed with anticipation.

Finally, his hands were on her body. It was soft, a caress, starting at that point just below her neck. Audrey took a breath as he traced a path down her throat, between the valley of her breasts to her belly. He circled her bellybutton, and Audrey squirmed away.

Percy looked up at her, and he was smirking. "Ticklish?"

He swirled his finger around her bellybutton again, and Audrey let out a little shriek, pushing him away.

"Don't do that!"

His grin broadened just before he ducked his head down and tongued her bellybutton. Audrey screamed. She pushed at his head away, scurrying across the mattress. Percy laughed, she felt its deep tones down in the pit of her belly. Using his long limbs to his advantage, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into the crook of his body.

"I won't do it again," he promised, "this time."

Audrey went to swat him for his cheek, but he caught her hand and held it above her head. The next thing Audrey knew, she was pinned under the wiry weight of Percy Weasley being kissed until her toes curled. His hands slid into her wavy hair. Audrey arched into him, discovering with exasperation that the bed sheet was now tangled between their bodies. She clutched his bare back, her fingers digging into his skin.

"Right, then," Percy murmured. He pulled away and Audrey stared up at him, but his eyes were on her heaving breasts. "We have determined that you do not like having your bellybutton touched, but do you like this?"

oOo

Fleur slid out from under Bill's arm and stood, pulling on her dressing gown. In the dark of their room, Bill watched as his wife knotted the tie at her trim waist. She flipped her still damp hair out from under the collar to cascade down her back in silvery waves. He sighed, not surprised Fleur had forced herself out of bed.

"I wish you would stay," he said.

She leaned in, kissed his mouth, and her fingers caressed the scars on his left arm. "Zere is still work to be done, mon Bill."

Sprawled naked in their bed, Bill watched the pale sway of her hips as Fleur left the room. He admired her dedication, even if he wished he could keep her in bed for the rest of the night. With the last of the adrenaline spent—and in the most enjoyable way imaginable—Bill was becoming aware of other needs. Like his growling stomach. If he was hungry, he could only imagine that Fleur was starving. He wasn't the one who had heaved up most of his day's meals after all.

Finding his pajama bottoms and his own dressing gown, he went downstairs. If he knew his wife at all, she would be neglecting her own needs. She could be very single-minded when on a mission.

Sure enough, Fleur sat at the butcher's block with her notepad, pen, parchment, and quill. A cup of coffee sat at her elbow. Bill picked it up as he walked by—noting that the coffee was cold and hours old. Fleur barely lifted her head to acknowledge his presence. He pulled a skillet from its hook.

"Something simple tonight, love?" he said. "Eggs, I think. Fried or scrambled?"

Fleur shot him a quick, disgruntled glare, wrinkling her nose. Bill chuckled. She hated scrambled eggs, which was a staple of breakfast at the Burrow. Fleur had suffered through many of his mum's breakfasts during their engagement, and not always silently.

Smirking, Bill walked over and kissed Fleur on the forehead. "I think I can manage omelets, how would that be?"

"Lovely, merci."

He set the kettle on before going about making dinner. Fleur worked with her head bowed over her parchment and her quill scribbling away all through food preparations and even after he set a plate in front of her. She didn't have any unbecoming habits when lost in concentration, like some did. Bill, himself, knew that he had a tendency to tap his quill against the desk when he was studying. Charlie pulled his hair. Percy pursed his mouth or sucked on his lips. But not Fleur. She merely went inside herself, a world Bill imagined populated by only Fleur and her task at hand.

Bill remembered the first time he saw her at Gringotts. It had been shortly after he'd transferred to the London branch from Egypt, and a colleague had pointed her out as they passed in the employee corridors. "See that fancy bird? She was Beauxbaton's Champion in the Tri Wizard Tournament, and now she works here. Wouldn't mind having a go at her." A part of Bill's brain had registered a desire to hex his co-worker into the next millennium. The other part wondered how that haughty slip of a girl could possibly be the champion of anything other than a hair drying charm. He could only shake his head at his own stupidity now. Bill—like so many others—had underestimated Fleur because of her beauty, not realizing that there was so much more to her.

A week after that first sighting, Bill noticed her for the first time. He'd been called to the office she worked in for a meeting with her managing goblin, Bodrod. It was while waiting for the surly goblin that Bill heard a very feminine gasp of horror. When he turned around, Fleur was standing over her desk with an opened box before her, and from it came a Boggart in the form of a Grindylow. While Bill was still reaching for his wand, Fleur had cast the counter-charm, and the Grindylow was wearing a silly, belled hat and dancing a jig faster and faster until it finally broke. Fleur had then stuffed the lid back onto the box, Banished it and resumed her seat while muttering French obscenities.

In a moment's time, Bill had been intrigued. He took a closer look at the beautiful French witch, saw the intelligence and determination that burned in her eyes. He didn't know what fascinated him more: that a simple Grindylow was her greatest fear—something any third year could take care of handily? That she was so quick and adept with her wand? Or that the ladylike beauty knew so many colorful swear words? Regardless, when word reached Bill that Fleur Delacour was looking for an English tutor, he jumped at the chance, despite common sense telling him that he had enough responsibilities without adding tutor to the list. He wanted to know why she feared Grindylows.

Bill told himself that their meetings would be strictly professional. Fleur was young, inappropriately so, and he was busy with the Order of the Phoenix. The last thing he needed to worry about was his love life. But the first time they met face to face, Fleur had looked up at him with those wide blue eyes, she shyly tucked her hair behind her ear, and Bill was well and truly smitten. Whilst watching her concentrate over conjugating verbs that Bill grew from intrigued to something more. She was brilliant, too brilliant to be wasted on a half-time secretary job. Maybe, when the war was over, Fleur would find something that was more challenging.

It was whilst Bill washed up the dishes that Fleur held up the parchment she had been working on. In beautiful, looping script were the names of each of the Ministry of Magic refugees, the location in which they were hiding, and the date on which they made their escape from England. Bill dried his hands and came to stand beside his wife. He looked at the neat list, it was a list of hope and second chances. Fleur rolled the parchment up, then slid off her stool. Bill followed her out the back door into the garden, lighting his wand against the dark of the night.

Fleur knelt down beside a raised bed. She used her wand to dig a hole deep into the black soil and extracted a glass canning jar. Inside the jar were other rolls of parchment, just the same as the one in her hand. On one of those parchments were the names of Catriona and Campbell Wood. Fleur unscrewed the lid and placed the new parchment, several feet longer than its brothers, in the jar. Once she buried the jar again, she stood and brushed dirt from her hands.

"My garden," she said, "it is full of secrets."

Bill wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her near, kissing her forehead. She nestled into his shoulder.

"I almost lost you tonight," she whispered. She was clinging to him, her body trembling against his.

"Sh, I'm not going anywhere, love."

"But zat man cast a killing curse at you. I saw it!" Fleur shook all over, and her hands fisted in his dressing gown.

Bill tightened his arms around her. What could he say? That he would be more careful? It was a bloody war and they both knew the risks they were running. He wasn't happy about cheating death one more time, but he couldn't dwell on it either. The curse missed this time. He could only pray he would be so lucky the next time and that the war would be over soon.

oOo

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Percy woke with a start. His room was still dark. Was it the middle of the night? He scrabbled on his bedside table for his glasses and wand. The last time this happened had been the night Dougal and Fergus Wood had been killed. Percy's heart lodged itself in his throat even as he told himself not to jump to conclusions.

It was then that he caught sight of the large, glowing numbers of the Tempus charm that was cast on the wall near his bed: 5:20. Not the middle of the night then. Percy nearly collapsed into the mattress in relief.

"Wha—Percy—Where—"

Percy turned to the soft mumblings of his companion. He stroked Audrey's hair and murmured soft words in her ear. He was pleased when she burrowed into the pillows. If it weren't for the still insistent knock at the door, he would have loved to wrap himself around her warm, little body and return to sleep as well.

Still, the fact remained that someone was beating at his door. Percy got out of bed and Summoned a pair of pajamas, pulling them on in the dark. He busily buttoned up the top as he crossed his flat, clutching his wand in his hand. He was reasonably sure that whoever was beating at his door was not a Death Eater come to murder him, or a Snatcher come to haul him away to Azkaban for his involvement in last night's skirmish, but one could never be too careful.

"State your name," Percy demanded.

"Merlin's fucking tits," came Oliver's reply quite clearly through the door. "Open up, damn you."

Percy could hear the panic that laced his friend's voice. The fear Percy had felt before was now replaced with guilt. His gut wanted to fling the door open and reassure Oliver, but Percy hesitated. His head said to wait, to demand proof of Oliver's identity. In that moment of hesitation, Oliver began to speak—and Percy wished he'd gone with his gut this one time.

"Beth Williams was the first girl you had a crush on in second year. You carried her books for three full weeks. You told her you loved her because you're a prat."

Oh, Merlin, no. Percy pointed his wand at the door and began reversing the wards.

"Mable What's-Her-Name was the first girl you kissed in third year. She hexed you when you tried to shove your tongue in her mouth."

Percy fumbled with the locks. Why were these being so difficult?

"You and everyone else felt up Brigit Cameron in—"

Finally, red in the face, Percy yanked open the door. Oliver, Percy noted in the split second they locked eyes, was ashen. Then Oliver shoved passed Percy into the flat. The ginger wizard closed the door with a soft click.

"What happened to you?" Oliver demanded, running a hand through his hair. He stood with his back to Percy, one hand on his hip. "We were supposed to meet at Hartford Gardens for a run at five. When you didn't show up, I didn't know what to think! You're never late. And Angelina told me about the Snatchers. I didn't know…"

Oliver's voice trailed off.

The two of them had started running together again after Katie and Catriona left. It was something they had done together at Hogwarts, but stopped when Oliver joined Puddlemere and Percy began with the Ministry. Now, however, it seemed prudent to run together as opposed to alone.

"I'm sorry, Ollie," Percy said, staring at his hands. "I overslept. I never meant to worry you."

"I'm not worried, you ginger arsehole," Oliver muttered, dragging one big hand down his face. "I'm not your mother."

They stood quietly for a moment. Percy tore his eyes from his friend's broad back. That's when Percy noticed the total disarray his lounge was in. Audrey's white bra was hanging off one of the kitchen table chairs, her knickers were lying on the floor next his own trousers and pants. Sweet Merlin, could he Banish all of it before Oliver noticed?

"Well, shite."

Well, that answered his question. Percy cringed at the amusement in his best mate's voice. For a moment, Percy closed his eyes, embarrassed heat swamping his body. When he forced himself to look up, Percy was met with Oliver's smirk. It didn't seem possible, and yet Percy felt himself flush even brighter than he already was.

"You caught the Snitch," Oliver said with a deep chuckle.

"I caught the—What are you—That's just—" Percy stammered. He couldn't quite catch his breath, he felt like a landed fish.

So much heat had rushed to Percy's face that he assumed he must be glowing. Oliver continued to chuckle heartily. He thumped Percy on the back, and he pitched forward slightly. He tried to cast his friend a withering look, but ended up grinning himself.

"Have her way with you, did she?"

Percy stammered for a moment before bursting out with, "She was bloody brilliant!"

"I bet. Look at you, Perce!" Oliver motioned in Percy's general direction, still laughing.

Percy looked down at himself. His pajamas were mismatched, and the buttons were not aligned properly. He couldn't help but laugh at himself. He was so bloody pleased with last night's turn of events, he didn't care if he looked like a prat.

"I reckon our run is cancelled for today," Oliver said.

"No, no, of course not," Percy denied with a shake of his head. "I'll just change. We can run, then I'll pick up the paper and breakfast, you know, for Audrey." He looked to his closed bedroom door.

"Here's the plan: I'm going to head up to Puddlemere and have my run, you are going to get the paper and breakfast for your little spitfire in there. Who knows, maybe you'll catch the Snitch again before heading for work this morning."

Percy's grin grew. He liked the sound of that. Only when Oliver laughed again did Percy realize that he'd voiced that thought aloud.

"Just do me a favor," Oliver said. The smile faded from his face. "Keep your wits about you. I know how you are with witches, and this is no time to turn into a lovesick fool."

That sobered Percy up. He couldn't deny that what Oliver said was true. Look at what a fool he had been over Penelope. It had been an unexpected blow when things had ended with her in such an ugly fashion. It hadn't even been a fight, merely shock and devastation. Over the years, Percy had come to realize that he'd been blinded by her good manners and proper upbringing. When she revealed herself to be someone he didn't know, he had been devastated. It had been those events that had spiraled his life into the gutter.

He didn't want to make those same mistakes with Audrey.

Finally, Percy looked up at his best mate. "Thank you, Oliver."

The burly, Scottish wizard shrugged. "I'll just be going, then. Tell Audrey I said 'hello.'"

"I'll do no such thing."

"Tell her I was disappointed to find out she wears white, cotton knickers."

"You will never say that to her."

Oliver chuckled. "Glad you're alive, Perce. Try to be on time tomorrow."

Once he had Oliver out the door and the wards replaced, Percy returned to his bedroom. Audrey was still asleep in his bed. In his bed. Percy grinned. She was so pretty with her soft waves rumpled around her face. He remembered what she'd looked like the night before when he'd brought her to climax. The way her body had arched with pleasure and that pretty mouth formed a perfect "O" when she surrendered to orgasm. And the soft moans she made. She was beautiful in that moment. Merlin, he wanted to see her like that again.

Percy turned away before he was tempted to kiss her awake. A gentleman doesn't wake sleeping ladies for his pleasure. Percy didn't think that Audrey cared one wit about him being a gentleman. Still, that didn't mean that he wasn't. And he should feed her before trying to seduce her again. Yes, food. They needed nourishment, no matter that his very insistent morning erection disagreed.

He went about getting dressed with a broad smile on his face. He left a quick note on his pillow for Audrey in case she woke up while he was gone. What would she like for breakfast, he wondered. He slipped down to a Muggle café a few blocks over to pick up croissants and fruit. He ordered coffee, then wondered if Audrey even liked coffee. Well, if she didn't, he could put the kettle on. He was very pleased with himself as he picked up a copy of the Quibbler before Disapparating back to his flat.

Upon entering his flat, Percy set the paper bag containing their breakfast on the table. He looked around the lounge, noting that Audrey's clothes were picked up. Perhaps she was in the shower? Would she mind if he joined her? But he found the bathroom empty. That was a fantasy they could play out later.

He crossed to his bedroom instead. He knocked briefly before pushing the door open. Only Audrey wasn't in there either. Percy's brow furrowed. Where could she be? That's when he noticed the folded piece of parchment on the pillow. He picked it up and opened it to see that she had struck a line beneath his note and written one of her own:

Percy,

I'm sorry I couldn't stay. Breakfast was very thoughtful, but I am expected at my parents' home this morning. Thank you for taking care of me last night. I had a lovely time.

Audrey

Notes:

If Fleur placing the names of the refugees into jars and burying them in her garden sounds familiar it's because I drew that detail from real life. During World War II, a woman named Irena Sendler helped to save thousands of Jewish children from the Warsaw ghetto. The children were placed with Polish families and in Catholic orphanages under false names. Sendler kept a list of each child's true and false identities so that they could be reunited with their families after the war. Those lists were placed in jars and buried in a garden. There are books, and even a Hallmark movie, about Sendler, but I first became aware of her a little closer to home. In 1999, Kansas high schoolers, as part of a history project, wrote a play about Sendler called Life In a Jar that toured nationally and internationally bringing attention to Sendler's story. You can easily Google Irena Sendler if you're interested in learning more about her.

Chapter 16

Notes:

First, thank you to all who have left kudos or comments. Second, I'm posting a day early since I'll be without internet access for a bit. Stay safe out there and I'll see you next Tuesday like usual.

Apparating on the front lawn of Sprayberry House, Audrey quickly set an Impervious charm over herself and dashed through the rain to the front door. She had not been lying when she told Percy she was expected at her parents' home, though she might have fibbed about the date by a week or so. Once inside the three story Paladian, she was surprised to find her father standing in the foyer. Though, less surprised to find him still in his dressing gown, his glasses atop his head. He blinked at her owlishly—as if he didn't quite recognize her—then broke into a smile.

"Ah," he said.

"And what does that mean—'ah?'" Audrey demanded, hands on her hips. "Did you forget my name again?"

"Of course not." Her father walked over and kissed the top of her head. "You're the little one who makes so much trouble. Alice or some such."

"Daddy!"

His eyes twinkled at her, and he confessed, "I did forget about your mother's tea."

"I can tell. Your knees are showing."

They both looked at his knees. He was wearing dress socks and garters with his house slippers.

"Well, that explains the draft," Daddy said with a frown. "I reckon I forgot trousers as well."

"Are my sisters here already?" Audrey asked.

"Yes, with the grandchildren." He shuddered.

"Aren't grandparents supposed to be fond of their grandchildren?"

"Yes, well, they are so loud," he moaned, flinging a hand in the direction of the staircase. "And sticky. Horrid beasts."

"You survived the five of us."

"Well, didn't much care for any of you until you were eleven."

Audrey wagged a finger at him. "If you keep saying things like that I'm likely to begin believing you."

"Probably ought to. Can't say I was cut out for fatherhood, but I did my duty by the Sprayberry name, I did."

The only thing Audrey could do was blink at him in bewilderment. She tried to come up with a witty rejoinder—her father always appreciated wit—but nothing was coming to mind. She knew he thought that his honesty was refreshing, but Audrey wished he would lie just this one time.

"How does Mother put up with you?" Audrey asked, shaking her head.

"Ah, well, she likes the influence of the family name, and we have great sex."

"Daddy!" Audrey pressed her hands against her heated cheeks.

"Oh, don't be missish," he said with a wave of his hand. "None of you girls are as innocent as you'd have your mother believe."

"No child wants to hear about their parents' sex lives, Daddy," Audrey insisted.

"Whyever not? If your mother and I didn't enjoy sex you would have never been born."

Audrey pulled a face. "And thank you for reminding me that I was a mistake. I would hate for a day to go by where I thought I was actually wanted."

If Daddy registered the sarcasm in Audrey's voice, he didn't show it. He certainly missed the hurt laced underneath. Walter Sprayberry was many things, but sensitive was never one of them. Nor intuitive. He seemed to tromp through life bludgeoning all the flowers and toes in his path without ever noticing.

"Oh," he said with another wave of his hand, "your mother was quite pleased with you."

Audrey snorted, folding her arms under her bosom. "I doubt that."

"Until you could walk and talk, at the very least. You were a very pretty baby."

"What about you?"

"Well, I always thought that mistakes were very important: we learn so much from them, don't you think?"

"And what did you learn from me?"

Daddy smiled and petted her head fondly. "That daughters are more interesting than they would appear."

"Are you fond of me, Daddy?"

"That would depend," he replied with a twinkle in his eye, "can you show me something new?"

This was an old game between them, and one that Audrey was always happy to play. It had started the first Christmas holiday she had returned from Hogwarts. Daddy would ask to see something new, and at first she would demonstrate new spells that she had learned during term. It made him smile at her. As she got older, she would do more complicated magic, oftentimes ancient or obscure charms that she had researched in the library. That would make him clap and laugh. If it was a particularly old spell, he would want to discuss with her its origins and uses. Eventually, Audrey began creating new spells or potions to show him. Daddy was particularly impressed by that. He would ask to see her notes, then demand to be taught how to do it himself. He never seemed to notice that she spent more time doing this than actually studying, and her marks reflected that. Audrey was never sure if he didn't make the correlation, or if he just didn't care.

With a smirk, Audrey pulled a vial from her purse. Inside was a shimmering pink liquid. Daddy's eyes lit as she placed it in his hand. His wide smile made him appear almost boyish.

"What is this, then?" he asked in a breathless manner. He held the vial up to the light and squinted at it.

"Take a swig and find out," Audrey challenged.

Carefully, he extracted the cork. He smelled the potion, his smile broadening. It smelled like spun sugar, Daddy liked sweets. He took a sip—it tasted delightful—then another. He let out a full laugh.

"I feel…different," he exclaimed, his voice coming out in a high squeak. "Lighter."

Slowly, his feet began to lift off the ground. Daddy's eyes went round and he clapped his hands. Soon, he was floating just above Mother's favorite Lufkin-era hall table full of magical bric-a-brac.

"What happens if I take another sip, dear girl?" he asked.

"You'll go higher, of course," Audrey replied with an impish grin.

Daddy took another sip and was floating six feet in the air.

"Wonderful! Simply marvelous!"

"Move your arms, Daddy, like you're treading water," Audrey instructed, mimicking the movement.

He did as he was told, then he was gliding through the air like a grindylow through water, laughing loudly and joyfully. Audrey laughed, too, pressing her hands to her cheeks. He did a flip: head over heels, then right again. He crowed in delight.

"You are my most brilliant child," he called. "See, mistakes are wonderful things."

"Walter!"

Mother, followed by Sarah and Kitty, came from the drawing room. Mother was her usual resplendent self in impeccable saffron robes and sensible witch's shoes. Her dark hair was pinned back in a smooth, elegant chignon. She had one manicured hand pressed to her slight bosom, her mouth forming a perfect "O." Behind her, Sarah and Kitty were hiding grins behind their hands.

"What are you doing?" Mother demanded.

"I appear to be flying, Margaret," Daddy answered. He did another backflip, his dressing gown flapping open. Sarah and Kitty dissolved into laughter.

"Floating, Daddy," Audrey corrected. "The potion is based on properties of a Muggle gas known as helium."

"Oh, excellent, excellent!" he said, then turned to his wife once more. "I am floating, my dear."

"Honestly, Audrey!" Mother scolded. "I don't know why you encourage him, the old fool. Well, that is neither here nor there, come along and have tea, dear."

With a resigned smile, Audrey folded her hands in front of herself and fell in line behind her mother.

"Mind the landing, Daddy. It's a doozy."

"Come by my library before you leave," he called. "I want to know how you brewed it. Did you bring your notes?"

Audrey tucked her head down, but inside she was bubbling with pride. She couldn't wait to pour over her notes, which were tucked away in her purse. Those interviews with Daddy, in which he would pepper her with questions, always left Audrey feeling clever and happy. Like she was more than a mistake who was stuffed in the nursery for too long. Following Mother into the drawing room, Audrey girded herself for a less comfortable interview. Mother sat on the edge of her favorite chair, serving tea to Sarah and Kitty on the settee. Audrey took the facing settee and accepted her own cup. She took a tentative sip.

"May I please have more sugar, Mother?" she asked.

"Two spoonfuls are more than enough, dear," Mother replied.

"But I like five and a bit of milk, if you don't mind."

"It's bad manners." Mother looked her over critically. "Didn't you receive the robes I sent over?"

Audrey put on her innocent face. In matter of fact, she had received the expensive, pale pink robes with the delicate lace collar. They were old lady robes in a little girl color, making Audrey wonder how her mother saw her. If she even saw Audrey at all? She promptly removed the collar and attached it to the tight, red sweater she was currently wearing with the pleated, calf-length, striped skirt and flats. The entire ensemble, save for the collar, came from a Muggle shop.

Mother sighed in a long-suffering manner. "At least you put a ribbon in your hair to keep it out of your eyes." She straightened the ribbon. "A fringe would be lovely, don't you agree?"

"If I did, I would have a fringe, wouldn't I?"

Mother pursed her lips. "I was just telling your sisters that I ran into Marvina Davies the other day."

"Oh?" Audrey asked weakly. Mother liked to gossip, it was true, but there seemed to be some purpose in her bringing up this subject. Flashing a look at her sisters, Audrey noticed that both wore apologetic smiles.

"She said her son, Roger, is on with the Ministry," Mother continued. "In the Wizengamot Administrative Services."

"Roger is training to be a barrister, then?" Audrey said, scrunching her nose. "No surprise there."

"Marvina says he is doing quite well. Not surprising, really, being a Ravenclaw."

"You mean, being a slimy git," Audrey muttered.

"She also said that Roger is single," Mother added, as if she had not heard Audrey's last comment.

Audrey's mouth fell open. "Mother!"

"Don't look so shocked, dear," Mother said with a quiet tut-tut. "The Davies are a good family, and by all appearances, young Roger looks to do very well for himself."

"Young Roger and I despised each other at Hogwarts!" Audrey snapped, just managing to keep from shouting. She plunked her cup and saucer on the table with more force than necessary, tea sloshing over the side.

"Well, that was then."

"I once hexed him so that he turned green every time he bragged about something—which was every time he opened his bloody mouth."

Mother shot Audrey a reproving look, her mouth pinched in the corners. "Does he know that?"

"No," Audrey admitted grudgingly.

"Then I don't see how that has any bearing on the subject."

Audrey shot angry glares at her sisters, who were busy avoiding eye contact with her. Cowards.

"Mother, please, do not play matchmaker," Kitty said feebly. She sat forward to set her saucer in the tea table. For a former barrister, that was a pretty weak argument.

"Well, why not?" Mother asked. "She's no employment, no boyfriend I'm aware of. How does she plan to support herself?"

Percy's face drifted to the front of Audrey's mind, but she pushed it away. There was no time to worry about a man she hadn't seen in a week and had no intention of seeing again. Her mother was trying to marry her off to Roger Davies, of all people! Not to mention the rather insulting implication that Audrey couldn't manage her own life.

"With a career," Audrey said. "Same as you, before you married Daddy."

"She shouldn't be dependent on a man's benevolence," Sarah put in. She was frowning. It made her look older than her thirty years, and terribly tired.

Mother flicked her wrist. "Working for that little charity hardly constitutes a career. You barely made enough to afford that ridiculous cupboard you called a flat. Honestly, Audrey, you've been living with your brother for a month now."

"In case you haven't noticed, Mother, we are in the middle of a war. Jobs are thin on the ground."

"Not for purebloods. I could have—"

Audrey stood abruptly. Kitty and Sarah both gasped.

"Where are you going?" Mother demanded.

"I can't believe you just said that," Audrey said. "As if purebloods are above Muggle-borns. We are being given preferential treatment because the Muggle-borns are being persecuted and thrown into Azkaban."

"You know that's not what I meant."

"It was heartless, Mother," Kitty said, glaring.

Sarah remained silent, her eyes downcast and her hands fisted in her lap.

"I am no blood purist," Mother scoffed. "I just meant that she has an advantage. If she doesn't want a husband—"

Audrey didn't hear the rest of it, she ran up the stairs and away from Mother's apathy. Past the second floor where her bedroom was located and up to the next level where the Sprayberry nursery sprawled from gable to gable. Wide windows let the sun shine on the toy room, making it bright and cheery on sunny days and dreary on the rainy ones. For eleven years, Audrey slept here, took her meals here, learned to read here. Most of that time she only had their house-elf, Dolly, for company.

When Audrey was six, her parents gave her a puppy, a Yorkshire terrier named Lucy. That tiny, scrappy dog had been Audrey's dearest friend. At eleven, Audrey had been outraged to find out she couldn't take Lucy to Hogwarts with her. At first, Audrey refused to go, but that hadn't worked. It seemed there was never anything Audrey could do to change the world's injustices. So, Audrey penned a carefully written letter to Albus Dumbledore, asking special permission to bring Lucy with her. The great wizard responded kindly that he knew just how sad it was to leave a Beloved behind, but that it would not be fair to show one pupil preferential treatment and he hoped that she could understand. Audrey still had the letter.

Being the youngest, or perhaps her parents had simply misplaced her, Audrey stayed in the nursery much longer than her brothers and sisters. She didn't move into her own room until her first Christmas holiday home from school. She could still remember how lonely she had been in her new room with no Dolly nearby, no dormmates asleep in the neighboring beds. And how sad she had been to see the nursery closed up under holland covers, as if it had been put under a sleeping charm. Dolly was sent to the kitchens without any small charges under her care. That first night back at Sprayberry House, she'd brought Audrey warm milk and stroked her hair as she cried in her new bed.

The nursery was opened again when Sarah's first daughter was born. First came Alberta, followed by her sisters, Deborah and Mathilda, and Kitty's daughter Caro. Even if it was only occasionally, the nursery sparkled with life again, and Dolly had little charges to look after.

By the window that overlooked the back garden with its manicured lawns and neat flowerbeds, Dolly sat in her rocking chair. Old toys had been dragged off the shelves to litter the floor, childish voices sounded from the nearby sleeping quarters. Without a word, Audrey sank down by Dolly's chair and lay her head in the elf's lap. The young witch closed her eyes, surrendering to the comfort of Dolly's long fingers combing through her hair.

Time spent with her mother always ended this way. Audrey didn't know which was worse: her mother's attempts at matchmaker or the disapproval she showed for Audrey's choices. It felt as though she was always disappointing somebody. She was probably even disappointing Percy currently. She didn't like that her thoughts strayed to him. For Merlin's sake, she had bigger problems than the loss of some man. Still, she was feeling maudlin and couldn't seem to help it.

If only Percy were the type to be content with a purely sexual relationship. Maybe they could flirt and drink together a bit before hopping into bed, just to put a nice sheen on it, but nothing serious. Of course Percy was the type to expect more, she should have known that from the off. He was a wonderful lover—if two shags counted as lovers. In the past, with other men, she sometimes thought that her orgasm was a happy coincidence on the path to their own. Why did his ability to make her come disqualify him as a lover?

Oh, it wasn't the first time. That rushed shag on the living room floor was what she had come to expect from her sex life. Fast and fumbling and nice, but nothing special like she'd read about. That first time, Audrey had kept pushing Percy away. She was in control, it was on her terms, not his. The second time, after he'd healed her, when she was already stripped bare. That had been different.

Percy was a man who took his time. He was considerate, which seemed like such a boring quality in a lover, but it wasn't. He cared about her pleasure, she knew this because he took the time to get her there. The man went down on her, and she didn't even have to ask him to. In fact, his mouth was rather surprisingly talented. Just thinking about it made Audrey's thighs clench, and she thought about it more than she cared to admit. Percy had made Audrey feel taken care of. He put the lie to every encounter she'd had before him. He left her wondering why she had sought out quick, meaningless shags with men who didn't care about her.

Yet, Audrey wasn't thanking Percy for this revelation. She didn't want to be his girlfriend. She didn't want a man to take care of her. All those other men forgot her name probably before they were out the door, but it didn't matter. They were just as forgettable to her. She didn't want to be forgettable to Percy, too.

"Did Miss Audi fight with Mistress again?" the elf squeaked, still stroking Audrey's hair. "Tell Dolly all about it."

Audrey sniffed, and a handkerchief materialized in front of her. She smiled as she took it, wiping her nose. "Nothing new to tell."

oOo

Oliver handed Percy a Butterbeer. "Why are you here and not out with Audrey or something?"

Percy took a swig from the bottle, buying himself some time. After a week of combing his brain trying to figure out what he had done wrong, Percy had decided that he was out of his depth. Obviously, he was much worse at women and relationships than he had realized, because he couldn't figure out what he had done to make Audrey disappear from his life. And if he didn't know, then he couldn't fix it. So, here he was, in Oliver's Puddlemere flat, reaching out for help. That did not mean, however, that he was pleased by this turn of events.

"Do I need an excuse to want to check in on my best mate?" he deflected.

Oliver quirked one eyebrow. "We see each other every morning for our jog."

"How do I know you don't come home and wallow in self-pity?"

With an incredulous look, Oliver plunked a plate with a sandwich and crisps in front of Percy. Even he had to admit that was a pretty weak excuse. Oliver was not the type to wallow. He would work out whatever was bothering him on the Quidditch Pitch, then come home and collapse into bed. Nor was he likely to talk about his feelings.

"All right," Percy acquiesced. "I haven't seen Audrey since that night."

"You told her you loved her, didn't you?"

"No!"

Oliver chuckled. "Just thought I should check. You are a prat like that."

Percy flushed. "If you're just going to take the mickey—"

"Don't get your knickers in a twist. So, what happened?"

"That's just it. I'm not sure. She was gone by the time I returned to the flat with breakfast, and I haven't seen her since. I-I thought things were going well."

"Have you tried to contact her?" Oliver asked. "I mean, I know it's easier said than done these days, but…."

"I went 'round her brother's place the other day, and Sprayberry said she wasn't in, but in the way you tell a lie for your sibling when you really don't want to."

"Ah, I used to tell those lies for Fergus."

"Exactly," Percy agreed. He pushed up his glasses. "So what do you think I should do next?"

Oliver stared at him for a moment, then, "Why are you asking me?"

"Er, because you're my best mate?"

"Bloody hell, Perce, no one knows less about witches than I do."

This was unfortunately true. Because of his good looks, girls tended to throw themselves at Oliver, but he never knew what to do with them after that. It didn't surprise Percy in the least that the witch Oliver fell in love with was not only somebody he'd been friends with for years, but also nearly as Quidditch mad as he was. Still, maybe if Oliver and Percy just talked the problem out, inspiration would dawn.

Percy sighed. "What did you do when you were having girl trouble, Oliver?"

"I went to Fergus for advice," Oliver replied, referring to his second oldest brother who had been quite the lady's man. "And when that blew up in my face, I went to Dougal. Which is what you should do."

"Um, Ollie, I don't think your brothers are going to be able—"

"Not my brothers, git!" Oliver snapped. "Bill!"

Percy took a bite of his sandwich and chewed slowly. He had to admit: that idea had merit. Besides always having good luck with witches, Bill knew Audrey. So why did Percy feel so hesitant to approach his eldest brother? He was probably closer to Bill than any of his other brothers, and their friendship had grown stronger over the last month.

"Perce," Oliver said. He wiped his mouth with a napkin and Levitated his plate into the kitchen. Then he leveled a very serious stare at his mate. "As far as I know, you haven't even looked at a witch since you broke it off with Penelope. Then this Audrey girl comes in like a whirlwind and turns your wits."

Percy opened his mouth to protest, but Oliver held up a hand to silence him.

"Listen. You shag this girl, and now you are ready to jump through hoops to be at her side, despite her seeming lack of interest. Is she really worth all this effort and potential heartache, or are you just overreacting because it's been so long since you've been with girl?"

Oliver was looking at Percy searchingly, but all Percy could do was gape at his friend. Oliver was much more perceptive than he was given credit for, Percy knew that. Yet Oliver's words left Percy feeling much more vulnerable than he realized he was. Why was he so intent on chasing after a witch who wanted nothing to do with him? It made no sense. It could only lead to heartache. But then, it made no sense that Audrey just disappeared from his life either. Percy knew—he just knew that there was something good happening between them. He wasn't one to follow his instincts over his logic, but when it came to Audrey, logic went out the Floo. Oliver would say that was because Percy was an idiot over witches, and maybe he was. Yet, for the first time in a long time, he wasn't afraid of making an idiot of himself over this witch. His heart and his gut told him to go after her, and for once he was going to listen. Because listening to his head had earned him nothing but loneliness in a flat that was anything but home.

"She-she makes me laugh," Percy stammered.

Oliver nodded. "Alright, then."

oOo

"Are you ready to go, Audrey?" Seth asked.

"I'm just going to visit Daddy before we leave," Audrey answered.

After a nice sulk, Kitty had persuaded Audrey to join the family for dinner. Seth and Brian joined them, but Daddy stayed in his library. It had been an excellent meal in the formal dining room, served by the kitchen elf, Knobster. Audrey was placed to her mother's right, where a stilted conversation about Muggle literature went on for twenty minutes before Mother turned to Brian and asked him about his work in Spell Research and Development. Audrey had been left to annoy Seth for the rest of the meal.

At the moment, Seth was pursing his lips, but Audrey ignored him. She knocked once on the door to the library before letting herself in—she didn't really expect a response. Lanterns hung from the ceiling casting bright light into every corner of the sprawling room. Shelves lined every available inch of wall, crammed full of books. More books were stacked on the floor in towers as tall as Audrey. As a child, she pretended they were a maze in an ancient garden with a prize in the center. There was a desk in the center of the room cluttered with parchments and broken quill nibs. Daddy had two comfy chairs stationed by the fireplace. One was a worn red velvet with a drooping seat cushion that was his favorite. The other was once a colorful brocade that had long since become faded and threadbare. Audrey used to sit in it when she visited Daddy's library, but now several dozen parchments spilled from it.

"You missed dinner," Audrey said as she approached her father. "Would you like me to have Knobster bring you something?"

"Hm?" Daddy's eyes flickered briefly from the parchment he was holding.

Audrey knelt down at his side. "I brought my notes, for the potion. Did you want to see them?"

"Not now, pet," Daddy patted her head.

"You said we could discuss the potion. I think you will find the use of helium extraordinary," Audrey continued, opening her stuffed, leather journal. "I have it all here. You would think that the gas would be difficult to harness for potion making, but…."

"Later, perhaps. I have found the most interesting treatise on the ancient practice of parsing in spell incantations. It dates back to the Greeks, you know."

Smoothing a hand over the page in her journal, Audrey stared at her father, wondering how to get his attention. Once he started in on his books and parchments he became wholly absorbed. Then she felt a hand on her elbow, lifting her up off the floor. She glanced around to see Seth.

"It would have been nice to see you at dinner, Dad," he said. "Conversation wasn't nearly as interesting without you. Though, I suppose we were all rather relieved to not have you insulting Sarah's husband over the rack of lamb."

Daddy waved his hand airily.

"Maybe next time," Seth said with a roll of his eyes. "Come along, brat, let's go home."

With that, he pulled Audrey closer and Disapparated straight out of the library into the lounge of his flat. Once the sucking sensation ended, Audrey pulled out of her brother's grasp, stumbled and nearly tripped over the leg of the sofa. She righted herself and dashed into the loo, hearing Seth call her name.

Slamming the door shut, Audrey set three obscure locking spells on it. She sat on the toilet and let her head sink into her hands. Why did she let Daddy get to her like this? Tonight was no different from the last twenty years of her life. She could work as hard as she could to please him, but it never held his attention for long.

There was a knock on the door. "Audrey."

"Leave me alone! I'm on the toilet!"

"Come on, Audrey, open up."

"People generally like privacy in the loo, Seth."

Audrey could practically hear her brother roll his eyes, but his voice was remarkably patient when it came through the door again. "Are you crying?"

Tears came to her eyes. "No."

"Why do you let him hurt you over and over again? He's never going to give you what you want. He's too self-absorbed, they both are."

Audrey wiped her nose on a piece of toilet paper. Why was Seth being so nice to her? And why was he right? She hated it when Seth was right. She loved how special she felt when Daddy paid attention to her, and she wanted that feeling to last, but it never did. Eventually, there was always something more special than she was.

"And what is it you think I want?" Audrey snapped.

"To be first in somebody's affections."

Audrey closed her eyes. She really hated her brother. "How do you know that?"

"You're my baby sister. Besides, why do you think Sarah and Kitty were such slags?"

Audrey snorted. "That's not nice."

"Yeah." Seth paused before adding, "Can you open up? I don't like talking through the door."

Audrey opened the door, leaning against it and looking up at Seth. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

"Well, don't get used to it. You're still an annoying little twat." He went to ruffle her hair, but Audrey deflected his hand. "See."

"Well, there, balance is restored." Audrey gave him a small smile.

"I hesitate to say this, because I know how stubborn you are, but…. It's much easier if you just don't expect anything from him and if you hide all the important things from her. That's your problem, Audrey, you are too open with your heart."

"It's what makes me different."

"It's what makes you special, and what gets you hurt. Be careful who you show your heart to." Seth folded his arms over his chest. "Speaking of which, what happened to Weasley?"

"I thought you didn't like Percy."

"He wants to shag my baby sister, of course I don't like him."

Audrey rolled her eyes, crossing her own arms. "That is the prattiest thing you have ever said."

"'Prattiest' isn't a word. And as far as Weasley is concerned, if you must be shagged by someone, better him than anyone else. At least he's a good sort, he'll treat you right, unlike those other trolls you've been out with."

Audrey's mouth dropped open. "How do you know about those trolls—er, I mean men?"

"You think Brian and I don't keep tabs on you? Your taste in men may be worse than Sarah's, and you've about out-slagged Kitty."

Audrey reached out and pinched his nipple, giving it a twist.

"Ouch!" Seth jumped back. "Dammit, Audrey!"

Slamming the bathroom door in his face, she recast the wards. "You are the most awful brother ever, Seth Sprayberry!"

Seth kicked the door. "Get out of the bathroom, brat. I need to go!"

"No! Leave me alone!"

Chapter 17

Notes:

Disclaimer: The world and characters belong to JK Rowling. The song (You Make Me Feel Like) A Natural Woman was written by Carole King, Gerry Goffin, and Jerry Wexler. It is most famously sang by the incomparable Queen of Soul, Aretha Franklin.

The full moon had passed for another month. Instead of being home recuperating—as he ought to be—Bill was at an Order meeting. Fleur craned her neck to catch a glimpse of him through the kitchen window from her spot in the vegetable patch. Her husband was seated between Doge, who looked to be dozing off, and Remus Lupin, who looked even more pale and haggard than Bill. With a sigh, Fleur averted her eyes. She could not coddle him; he would only resent it.

The back door opened, and Molly strode out, letting the screen bang shut behind her. She went straight to the red-painted garden bench and plopped down with a huff. Abandoning the late carrots that Molly needed for that night's stew, Fleur brushed dirt from her knees then joined her mother-in-law on the bench.

"They are talking about Ron, Harry, and Hermione," Molly said without prompting. "They still haven't returned to Grimmauld Place. They've made no contact—it's been more than a week! They've searched and searched and nothing…. They are just out there, somewhere..."

Fleur covered her mother-in-law's clenched hand with her own. "But zey are alive. We would know if zey were not."

"But are they well?"

Fleur looked away, and they fell into a troubled silence.

"Bill is not well," Molly said after some time.

Fleur stiffened, but fought to keep the alarm from her face. The last person Bill wanted to worry with his condition was his mother. He was so proud, he could stand for no one to see him weak. Fleur could understand this, was she not a proud woman? She knew what it was to hide away her own vulnerabilities.

"Oui," Fleur said carefully, "he has been—how do you say—behind the weather."

"Under the weather," Molly corrected absently. "He should be at home, in bed."

"I tell him zis, but he does not listen. He is very stubborn."

"He always is when it comes to his own well-being. He hates to admit that something is more than he can handle. It comes of being the eldest, I reckon."

Fleur pursed her lips, but said nothing. She knew all too well how Bill would put his family's needs before his own. It came from Molly, from the way she depended on him to help her manage the younger children, even now that they were grown.

"Bill was unwell last month, too," Molly said.

Fleur did not move or make any attempt to look at her mother-in-law for fear that she would give something away. Still, Fleur could feel Molly's eyes on her.

"I can do maths and star charts, you know," Molly said quietly. "I'm his mother, I notice things."

Fleur folded her hands in her lap and concentrated on keeping her face blank.

Molly sighed. "He doesn't have to do it alone, and neither do you. We are your family, and family supports one another."

Tears pricked at Fleur's eyes, but she did her best to hold them back. "He's not a werewolf," she whispered.

Immediately, Fleur felt shame wash over her. She did not want Molly to think that she, Fleur, held any prejudice, or that she thought lycanthropy was a dirty secret not to be spoken aloud. She, better than anybody, knew how untrue and unjust such an attitude was. These past months only served to reinforce that. But her throat was so constricted with tears that her voice would not come.

Molly took Fleur's hands and squeezed them. "Thank you for telling me," she whispered back. "It does put my mind at ease. Perhaps that is an unworthy thought, but it is true all the same."

Another silence settled over them, this one heavy with a shared grief and shameful relief. Sitting at the kitchen table, inside the Burrow, at that very moment was a man afflicted with lycanthropy. A good, noble, often misguided man who transformed every month, and who was their friend. Moreover, Fleur knew that Bill suffered without actually transforming. That one last detail should not matter, but it did. The fact that it did made Fleur feel like a monster.

Unable to stand her dishonorable thoughts a moment longer, Fleur cleared her throat and said, "I am concerned about my potion and ingredient stores."

Molly wiped her eyes with the corner of her floral apron. "Oh goodness, I hadn't thought of that. I have a good supply, but if there were high casualties…".

"Perhaps I will travel to Diagon Alley tomorrow to purchase supplies."

Fleur stood and went to retrieve her basket of carrots. When she turned back to the path, she found Molly standing there with her fists propped on her hips and a scowl on her face.

"You will do no such thing, it is too dangerous."

"I will take my friend Audrey wiz me. I would not be so foolish as to go alone."

"I do not like the idea of you girls going to Diagon Alley, it's not safe!"

"We are very clever witches."

"More clever witches than you have been murdered by Death Eaters, Fleur Weasley!"

oOo

A rat scurried across Audrey's boot, making her scream and kick at it. "I bloody hate rats!"

Diagon Alley was a world of gray skies and shuttered businesses. The two young women skirted down the cobblestones intent on the Apothecary, but Fleur could not help but wish she had listened to her mother-in-law. She traveled to Wizarding London three days a week, but it seemed even more unwelcoming than usual. Maybe it was because Bill was not with her. She reached over and grabbed her friend's hand, and Audrey squeezed her fingers.

The two dashed down the cobblestones in sturdy boots to the Apothecary, its once homely hunter green and chocolate brown front now chipped and faded. They pushed open the door, a little bell tinkled overhead. Inside, the anxious shopkeeper was standing behind the counter in his apron, one hand hidden below the worktop. When the witches lowered their hoods, the man's shoulders visibly slumped.

"Wh-what can I do for you ladies?" he asked.

Fleur pulled a list from her pocket. "I have need of zese items please, sir."

The shopkeeper's stare went from nervous to slightly vacant. Fleur had expected no less. Hundreds of men had turned into idiots before her very eyes, but it did not make it any less uncomfortable. It was mindless lust that had nothing to do with her. It was her magic, a great and uncontrollable burden. She tried not to hate these men, for they were as helpless as she, but she did, at least a little bit. She hated that they made her skin crawl like bugs. She hated that they made her want to hide away. She took a step behind Audrey, knowing that she was giving in to this urge.

"Customers, Homer?" A round witch came from behind the curtain. She looked first at Audrey, then at Fleur. Her eyes narrowed and mouth pursed as she snatched the list from Fleur's fingers. This, too, was to be expected.

It was a long list, and it took some time to collect all of the items. The pile on the counter was growing tall when the bell over the door jingled again. The shopkeeper whipped out his wand, but the sight of the new customer made him pale and stow it away quickly. Fleur and Audrey were huddled together in the corner, but they turned to see a leather-clad wizard saunter in. His feral eyes locked on Fleur, leering and smirking. She did not react, but it took great effort.

"Here," the shopkeeper's wife said, thumping the last of the items onto the counter. "That'll be fifty galleons."

"That is outrageous," Audrey exclaimed.

"Sorry, miss, that is the cost."

"But why so much?" Fleur asked. She could remember her maman complaining of women trying to overcharge her out of jealousy.

"'Tis the war, ain't it? Supplies are hard to come by, and demand is high," the woman responded.

With a sigh, Fleur took her list back from the woman behind the counter and stared at it, then at the Galleons in her change purse. It was not a small amount, yet she could only afford a third of her list. She asked about the cost of the wolfsbane, twenty-five galleons just for three months' supply. Fleur felt sick. If she bought the wolfsbane, she would only be able to afford a few vials of the dittany. Bill needed the Wolfsbane Potion to make the full moon bearable, but the Order of Mercy needed medicinal potions.

"Well, it's robbery, plain and simple," Audrey retorted, folding her arms over her chest.

Fleur paid Audrey no mind, still trying to work out her problem in her mind. The right thing to do would be to buy the necessary ingredients for the medicinal potions, but her chest ached for the thought of Bill's suffering. As she stared at the counter full of vials and dried plants, the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. She looked around and saw the leather-clad man staring at her from the other side of a floor shelf. There was something about him that seemed familiar, but she was not sure what it was.

"Do you have seeds?" Fleur asked, turning back to the shopkeeper and his wife.

"Uh, sorry? I mean, yes, of course," the shopkeeper said, still slack jawed.

"And how much are zey, s'il vous plaît?"

The woman quoted a price that was ridiculous for a packet of seeds, but considerably less than the ready potions ingredients. Fleur ordered one bottle of Skele-Gro as it was a temperamental potion to brew at home, and a packet of seeds for nearly every item on her list.

Collecting her package, Fleur and Audrey made to leave. The leather-clad man was leering at her again, but Fleur refused to look at him. As they neared the door, Audrey crossed to Fleur's other side, putting herself between her friend and the wizard. The two witches clasped hands and hurried back the way they came. Once it was safe, they Disapparated to Shell Cottage.

"What are you going to do with seeds in September?" Audrey asked as they crossed the wards that surrounded Shell Cottage.

Fleur frowned at the brown package that was clutched to her chest. "I do not know, but I will figure something out. I do not have much choice."

"Good thing we're brilliant then."

Fleur smiled. "Mais oui."

oOo

Bill had debated the wisdom of venturing into Diagon Alley unnecessarily just to have lunch with the twins, but decided he could do with a distraction. That was how he found himself in the disgusting flat above Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, eating leftover takeaway pizza and being introduced to something called a fizzy drink that tickled his nose as he drank it. He did not, Bill decided as he took another bite of pizza, miss his bachelor days. Especially the early ones.

"How do you two stay in business when hardly a soul walks into the shop these days?" Bill asked.

"We built up a rather large catalogue business before opening up this joint," Fred answered.

"And it's more popular than ever these days," George chimed in.

"Particularly the self-defense line."

Both twins frowned. An uncharacteristically heavy moment settled between the two of them. It was clear that they had never considered that they would be purveyors of anything other than joke items when they dreamed up their shop. They were mischief-makers. Providing self-defense items—and having those items outsell their joke line—must feel like a perversion of their dream. Bill thought of the two jokesters who had attended their first Order meeting boasting of ways to end You-Know-Who (including tickling him to death). The older brother had been exasperated by his younger brothers' naiveté and immaturity then, but now Bill was sad to see that the twins had lost it.

"Well, enough of that," Fred said.

"We have something we wanted to share with you," George said.

"It took longer to get started than we had intended—"

"But tonight is the inaugural broadcast of—"

"Potterwatch!" they chorused.

Bill furrowed his brow. "What's this then?"

"Potterwatch," Fred said, "you'll want to listen."

"Absolutely!" agreed George. "All the cool kids will be."

Bill rolled his eyes. "But what is it?"

"Remember, we told you about it," Fred said. "The two of us and our friend Lee are starting up a pirate radio station: Potterwatch."

"So we can report the real news," George said.

"And maybe keep people's spirits up."

"So, tonight around nine o'clock, just tap your wand on the wireless, and say 'Gideon' to hear our first broadcast."

Bill nodded. "'Gideon', huh?"

The three of them fell silent. Not that it lasted long, it never did in the twins' presence.

"We were wondering," Fred started, he rubbed the back of his neck and sent a furtive look at George.

The second twin sighed, then finished the thought, "If you ever hear from our other brother?"

Bill sat back, arms crossed over his chest as he regarded the twins. Our other brother, Bill knew perfectly well who they were talking about. Still, it irritated him that Fred and George refused to say Percy's name.

"Charlie?" he asked, quirking one eyebrow.

The twins looked at each other.

"He's doing the eyebrow," complained Fred.

"So annoying," muttered George.

They looked at Bill again, but he wasn't going to help them. If they wanted to know about Percy, they were going to have to use his name. Bloody hell, they could get their heads out of their arses and go visit Percy themselves.

"You know who we're talking about," Fred said, sitting forward.

"Ron?" Bill said. He smirked, just because he was annoyed with the twins didn't mean he couldn't take the mickey.

"Don't make us say his name," George growled.

"You aren't speaking of Ginny, are you?"

"Prat!" the twins spat.

Bill chuckled. "So you two can dish it out, but you can't take it, yeah? Pathetic."

"Percy, okay?" Fred burst out.

"Happy?" George snarled.

"Is it so much to ask you to use his name?" Bill demanded. He leaned in, his eyebrows snapping together over stormy eyes. "It's not like—not like he's You-Know-Who. Percy is our brother, dammit."

"And we are asking about his welfare, aren't we?" George said, turning red. "It's not like we want him hurt or killed or anything."

"We just want to make sure he's not a Death Eater yet," Fred added. George elbowed him sharply in the ribs, and Fred grunted.

Bill glowered at Fred, unable to respond to such an outrageous comment.

"Alright, alright, it was a joke," Fred complained, rubbing his side. "I mean, Percy's a git, but he's not evil or anything."

"He's not dead or hurt either," Bill said. "He's keeping his head down at the Ministry."

The urge to tell the twins the truth about Percy was strong, but Bill knew that was not what Percy wanted, not yet leastwise. Bill didn't particularly agree with Percy on this count, but he could respect his brother's wishes. At the same time, Fred and George were showing a maturity that Bill could be proud of. They had been particularly unforgiving after Percy turned his back on the family, cursing his name at every opportunity and sending him particularly nasty pranks by owl. Asking about Percy's wellbeing was nearly an admission of missing him.

The twins squirmed in their seats like they had itching powder in their pants, then Fred cracked a joke, and the whole conversation was forgotten. By the time Bill left the shop, he was feeling lighter of heart. He had a late night at work ahead of him, to make up for time missed during the full moon. Time spent with the twins fortified him for the night to come.

Gamboling down the front steps of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, Bill looked up to find someone he wasn't expecting.

"What are you doing here?"

Percy was looking up at Fred's giant head and top hat. "Official Ministry business," he said and held up a clipboard.

Bill took the clipboard and read the title written in neat script across the top of the parchment: Ministry of Magic Authorized Survey of Diagon Alley Shopkeepers on the Topic of Vagrants and their Negative Impact on Business. It was a mouthful. It was also offensive. The vagrants in question were Muggle-borns who hadn't been before the Commission yet, but were forced from their jobs by weak-willed employers. By the looks of it, Percy had interviewed every shopkeeper on Diagon Alley, save the proprietors of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.

"You going in then?" Bill asked. There was a tight knot in his stomach at the thought of Percy confronting the twins with this survey in hand.

Percy shook his head, and pushed his glasses up. "No, I think I will just make something up. It'll be like those dream journals I had to do for Trelawney back in third year."

For a moment, Bill could only stare at his younger brother with his mouth hanging open. Then he burst out laughing. Percy shushed him with a cautious look around.

"You are going to attract the attention of Snatchers if you don't shut it," Percy scolded. "Or worse, Fred and George."

"I would have never guessed that you faked your dream journals, Perce. You! You are so-so…you."

"Yes, well, I was thirteen and under a great deal of pressure. Besides, most of my dreams at the time were, er…." Percy turned bright red.

"Pornographic?"

"Quite so, yes. I could only hope they were prophetic, but I wasn't reporting that to Trelawney of all people."

Bill wiped tears from his eyes. "Fred and George might surprise you."

"I don't think they will," Percy replied with shake of his head. "I'm not ready to face them yet."

"Bit cowardly, isn't it? They are your brothers, and we are at war. You should make amends while there's time."

Percy shoved his glasses up his nose, but ignored Bill's comment.

"I was wondering," Percy said, "if it's not an imposition, of course, if you might meet me for a drink tonight. I-I wanted to talk to you about something."

Bill looked around, then pitched his voice low, "To do with the Order of Mercy?"

"No, it's personal."

"I have to work late, can we meet around 7:30?"

Percy nodded, but he didn't look at Bill. "At Oliver's."

"I'll be there."

oOo

"What about your Veela magic?" Audrey asked. "You always say that Veelas are of nature."

Several hours later found Fleur and Audrey sitting on the ground in the garden with a terracotta pot and a packet of seeds between them. They were no closer to finding a solution to their gardening problem. Autumn was upon them with cool days and feeble sunlight. That would not do when trying to start a garden. Buying the seeds had seemed a smart idea when they stood in the Apothecary, but now Fleur thought that maybe she was not so clever after all.

Fleur sighed. "Zat is what maman says. When I was a child, I could make a seedling sprout, but I zink I must have lost zat magic."

"Fleur," Audrey said shortly, giving her friend a hard look, "you cannot lose magic. You are suppressing it."

"You know I have no control over my Veela magic. If I did, I would suppress zee part zat attracts men."

During the Triwizard Tournament, Audrey and Fleur had experimented with her Veela magic, trying to harness it. The results were the same then as they had been at ten when maman tried to teach her. The two girls gave up the pursuit quickly, as Fleur could not afford to be ill when preparing for the Tournament's tasks. However, Fleur dearly wished she had some control over it at the moment. She needed these seeds to grow, she needed the potions she could make from them.

"That's just it, Fleur, there is one aspect of being a Veela that you don't like," Audrey said. Her tone was as sharp as the scalpel Fleur used to dissect the stems of Venomous Tentacula. "And now you are afraid to access the rest. It's a mental block you suffer from, not an inability."

Fleur's mouth set into a flat line and her eyes flashed. "You know nothing about it!"

"I know it comes out of you in bursts, like at your wedding. If it's in you, then you can control it if you try."

"I have tried, you know I have!" Fleur yelled. "Would I go around turning men into spineless, slobbering…imbeciles if I could control it? Non, I would not."

Audrey colored slightly. "Alright, I'm sorry. Let's try this a different way. Think about the things you like about your Veela magic."

Shooting one last glare at her small friend, Fleur shifted so that she was sitting cross-legged in the dirt. Being a Veela amongst humans was a burden. Fleur closed her eyes, hating that thought, but it was true. A true Veela could sense the emotions of a person, she could manipulate them for good or for ill. Fleur knew only a small fraction of that power, but it left a sour taste in her mouth. She could sense only extreme emotions, and so often those were negative. It was unpleasant. She had never tried to manipulate another, and the idea was repugnant. She did not want that power over another. And then there was what she did to Alain.

But Audrey did not ask for a list of things she hated about her Veela magic. Fleur thought of her wedding. The joy she felt that day had made her heart swell. She smiled so that her cheeks hurt. That joy had spilled out of her, touching her family and friends. Touching her Bill. That day she felt truly beautiful in all the ways that mattered.

"When you were a little girl," Audrey said in a quiet voice, "how did it feel when you made the seeds sprout?"

"I-I felt like I was a part of zee earth. I felt happy."

"Think about your surroundings now, Fleur—no, feel your surroundings."

Fleur surrendered to her senses. She felt the tickle of the breeze, heard the lullaby of waves crashing on the beach below, tasted the tang of the saltwater, saw the seabirds circling overhead. She breathed deeply, filling her lungs with the fresh air. This was nature at its most soothing. And yet it could change in an instant. Those same waves that lulled her to sleep each night could take on a ferocious violence. They could howl and batter. They could destroy Tinworth, and kill its people. Such was the fickleness of nature. Men complained of this tendency because they feared what they could not control. Just as Fleur feared her own nature. She was tired of being afraid. Fleur sank her fingers into the dirt under her, feeling its cool, damp clumps squish between her fingers and breathing in its earthy musk.

Audrey took Fleur's hands and placed them in the pot. A pleasant, warm vibration sang in her veins. Fleur concentrated on the seeds, imagining what the delicate sprouts would look like, the unfurling of infant leaves, the elegance of youthful stems. Opening her eyes, she saw a soft light emitting from her hands as a green sprout poked its head out from the black dirt. Joy flooded Fleur, and the glow grew brighter. She laughed as the seedling grew into a sturdy young plant before her eyes.

Audrey smiled hugely. "How do you feel?"

"I feel…extraordinaire."

"Well, let's see if we can duplicate those results, shall we?"

An hour later, both witches were sprinkled with soil, dirt under their fingernails, and twenty young plants were waiting to be transplanted into a bed. They stood arm-in-arm surveying their handiwork with bright smiles. There had been nothing taxing about this task, Fleur felt true joy, she felt strong. She felt grounded to the earth in a way she had not since she was a child.

"We still have to figure out how to keep them protected from the elements with winter coming on," Audrey said, but she was still smiling. "Unless you were planning to construct a greenhouse?"

Fleur shook her head. "Alas, non."

"I didn't think so. You could always keep them inside. Do you suppose Bill will mind a potted Snapping Dragon sitting next to his favorite chair?"

"I zink he might."

Audrey laughed. "I suspected as much. Give me a few days, I think I can come up with a solution."

"Come inside and wash up, I have a crab bisque ready for supper."

The two young witches stood, brushing dirt from their hands. As they climbed the stairs to the kitchen door, a Patronus dropped from the sky to materialize before them. A silvery male lion shook its great head with its shaggy mane, then opened his mouth to emit Bill's voice:

"Meeting Percy for drinks after work. Might be late, he seems upset about something."

Fleur blew out a breath, her shoulders sagging slightly. "I hope all is well. Why do you suppose Percy is upset?"

"Um, how should I know," Audrey muttered as she slipped past her friend and into the kitchen. She went straight to the cooling cabinet, opened it and stuck her head inside.

Narrowing her eyes, Fleur said, "I shall put on zee soup, oui?"

"I have a better idea." Audrey pulled out the chocolate cake that Molly insisted Fleur and Bill take home after the last Order meeting.

"You get zee forks, I will get zee wine."

Audrey was already sitting cross-legged on the sitting room floor when Fleur walked in with a nice, richly sweet dessert wine and two glasses.

"Look at how fancy you are with the glasses," Audrey teased.

"I did not bring plates, consider me positively uncivilized." Fleur dropped onto the floor across from her friend, filled one glass and passed it over. "Zee girls in my dormitory would do zis sometimes. Zey would get very silly and giggle about boys all night."

"It must be a cross-cultural tradition because my dormmates did much the same thing." Audrey stared at a spot over Fleur's shoulder for a moment. "I always felt very lonely those nights."

Fleur nodded, but then held up her now-filled glass. "To no longer being lonely, mon amie."

oOo

It wasn't until he was standing outside Oliver's Puddlemere flat that Bill remembered the the last time he'd been there was the night Dougal and Fergus died. He'd been given the duty of telling Oliver about his brothers' deaths whilst Tonks and Remus had gone to Catriona. It was Mad-Eye and McGonagall who traveled to Red's Wood to tell Mr. and Mrs. Wood. Before going to Oliver, Bill had collected Percy knowing that the two young men had a strong friendship and hoping that Percy would be a comfort to Oliver. It had been a good call on Bill's part.

Still, it was with a heavy heart that Bill walked up the stairs and into the building. He knocked on Oliver's door and was relieved when a disheveled Quidditch player answered. Oliver's dark hair was mussed, and he had a tumbler of Firewhisky in his hand.

"Yer brother's a lightweight," Oliver said by way of greeting, his Scottish brogue more pronounced.

Bill grinned, he couldn't help himself. Flashes of Easter weekend during N.E.W.T. year played in his mind. He pictured Charlie, Fergus, Dougal, and himself shut up in the seventh year boys' dorm with a bottle each of Firewhisky. He could hear Dougal's accent, which had always been thick, so heavy that it was nearly unintelligible to Bill's English ears. And Fergus breaking into bawdy, Scottish drinking songs that made Charlie giggle like a twelve-year-old girl. They had vomited all over themselves, which led McGonagall to force them to clean it up without magic the next day. Merlin, she had been so disappointed in Bill, Head Boy. She could barely speak to him for a week without turning red in the face.

Presently, Percy was stumbling to the door in his undershirt, his red curls tousled and his glasses askew. Bill smirked at the sight of his obviously pissed brother. He and Charlie had somehow managed to drag Percy out for a night of drinking after the Quidditch World Cup, and that was the last time Bill could remember seeing Percy drunk.

"See," Oliver said, motioning to Percy. "Lightweight."

"You outweigh me by two stone," Percy whinged.

Oliver shook his head. "He says that every time."

Bill closed the door behind him and smirked. "You ladies are delightful, but I have a more delightful lady waiting for me at home. What was so urgent that you needed to speak to me, Perce?"

"Can't I just want to have a drink with my brother?" Percy demanded.

"In the middle of the week?"

"He shagged Audrey, and now she won't talk to him because he's a ponce," Oliver said.

Bill's eyebrows shot up. "Pass the Firewhisky, Wood."

oOo

"But it's about rainbows," Audrey cried from the floor. She was on her back with her feet in Bill's chair. The song that Fleur had put on Bill's Muggle hi-fi just ended. "That's the saddest song I've ever heard."

Fleur climbed into the chair and hung over the edge to peer down at her friend. "Non, it is about wishing you were somewhere else."

"And that woman…. I think she was in so much pain when she sang it." Audrey touched her chest. "In here, you know? You don't get to choose any more music, Fleur!"

The dark-haired witch rolled over and belly crawled to the record collection.

"Do not scratch zee records!" Fleur hiccupped. "Pardonne-moi! You must not-must not hurt zee records. Bill will be very cross."

"What's the White Album? Sounds a bit too puritan for me. Anything called the Scarlett Woman?"

"I zink zat is a Muggle book? Or maybe it is The Scarlett…something." Fleur sprawled in the chair, her legs hanging over one side.

Audrey pulled out another album. "The Joshua Tree? Muggles know about Joshua trees? They have very powerful healing properties. It's too bad we can't get our hands on some Joshua tree root." She flipped the record cover over. "Wait. Are these wizards masquerading as Muggle musicians? This one is called 'Bono', that is a wizarding name if ever I heard one."

Audrey replaced the album and pulled out another one.

"What are Bee Gees?" She giggled at the man on the front who was striking a pose in a white suit. "Dumbledore would have loved this outfit."

"Bill calls zat disco," Fleur said. "He hates zat album."

"Well, sounds like an excellent recommendation. How do you feel about a little Saturday Night Fever?"

"Zis is why he calls you a brat."

Audrey stuck her tongue out, but shoved the album back on the shelf. Running her fingers along the cardboard record covers, and picking one at random. Meanwhile, Fleur tapped her wine glass with her wand, and it refilled. As she sipped her wine, Fleur watched her friend. It seemed to Fleur that Audrey was keeping secrets, and more intriguingly, they were to do with Percy. Fleur had never seen Audrey so enamored by a man as she was with Percy. Interested, but of course, Audrey was no prude when it came to wizards. However, none of them had been boyfriends, or even really friends, and they had all shared two qualities: good looks and low intelligence. They were men designed not to disappoint, because a woman like Audrey could never want anything more than the most superficial of things from men like that.

"Have you listened to this one?" Audrey asked, holding up a record with a black woman on the front.

"Non."

Audrey looked at the album cover again. "Aretha: Lady Soul. She looks like a-a queen or something. This is a woman who turns her pain into strength."

Slipping the record from its sleeve, Audrey looked at it reverently. She ran her fingers over the black, grooved surface, then placed it on the turntable, positioning the needle gingerly on its surface. Fleur pointed her wand at the hifi, and seconds later the first notes of a piano filled the room.

"Dance with me," Audrey said. She staggered to her feet, and reached out to Fleur.

Fleur set her glass on the low table by Bill's chair and stood.

"You lead," Audrey commanded.

"I always lead." Fleur pouted, but she put one hand on Audrey's waist.

"Yes, well, you're taller, so you lead. That's the rule."

"And you care so very much for zee rules."

The girls swayed to the music, Audrey's hand on Fleur's shoulder.

"Besides, crankypants, you have a husband." Audrey's head lolled back. "A man. A partner. Someone to lead in every dance forever and ever and ever."

"You are no fun tonight," Fleur pouted. "You are normally a very silly drunk. I zink you are heartbroken."

Audrey's head snapped up, her eyes blazing. She did not look in the least drunk.

"Have you gone mad?"

Fleur's eyebrows shot up. "I do not believe so. Have you?"

Audrey snorted.

"Why is Percy upset?"

"How should I know?" Audrey turned her head away.

"I zought you were dating him."

"Two dates. Maybe three, technically." She looked at her feet and muttered, "I shagged him."

For a moment, Fleur did not say anything. It was not shame that she sensed in Audrey, nor would Fleur have expected that. Normally, Audrey told of her sexual escapades as if they were great adventures. Now, with Percy, there was a confusing tangle of emotions, or perhaps Audrey was simply confused. Fleur, however, was not. She was quite pleased with this turn of events.

"And zis is a bad thing?" Fleur asked at last. She was hardly able to contain her smile.

The song ended. The quiet "shush" of the needle on blank vinyl filled the room. Audrey broke away from Fleur, flinging herself into the chair and covering her face with her hands.

"He's going to think I'm his girlfriend!" the dark-haired witch wailed.

Fleur did laugh now. "I do not see zee problem."

"I don't want to be his girlfriend." Audrey sat up, a frown marring her face. "I just want a-a good time!"

Fleur squeezed into the chair next to Audrey, who scooted over to make room.

"And did you? Have a good time?" she asked.

Audrey blushed. "That's not the point."

"But you are blushing." Fleur beamed at her little friend. "You fancy him."

Audrey crossed her arms and turned away. "I don't fancy him. Percy…he's just…I don't know. Regardless, I can't see him anymore, well, unless it has something to do with the Order of Mercy, of course. But that's it!"

"Why?"

"I don't want to lead him on. Percy's not the type to engage in-in casual sex, and I don't want him to get the wrong idea. I'm not his girlfriend, I am not anyone's girlfriend."

"Did he ask you to be his girlfriend?"

"What are we? Twelve?" Audrey shot up from the chair and paced to the window and back, facing Fleur with her hands on her hips. "He didn't pass me a parchment in class, if that's what you are asking. But that's what happens when you go on a few dates with a bloke and then go to bed with him, isn't it? And he's wonderful and attentive and you let yourself be vulnerable in front of him. The next thing you know, you're a couple. Ugh, there's a war on, I don't have time for that."

Whipping around, Audrey stood with her back to the room, her arms crossed tightly. Fleur regarded her friend silently. The war was a convenient excuse, but if it were not the war, it would be something else. For a girl who had spent her entire life being invisible, Audrey did not like for others to see her. Fleur had seen how Audrey was ignored by her classmates at Hogwarts. It was easy to disappear when nobody was paying attention. After graduation, when the two of them would tentatively venture into parties and dance clubs like normal young witches, Audrey had started to attract attention from men. The sometimes bawdy humor she demonstrated in private had spilled forth. Others might see a girl flirting too aggressively, but Fleur saw her friend constructing a barrier between herself and heartbreak.

"All I want," Audrey said, "is a mutually beneficial arrangement. No emotions making things confusing. Percy Weasley's not built that way."

Fleur stood and flicked her wand at the hi-fi. The arm levitated up and over, then settled again in the grooves of the record. Aretha Franklin's powerful voice filled the room again. Wrapping her arms around her friend, Fleur bent down to rest her chin on Audrey's shoulder.

"He is not your father," Fleur whispered.

When my soul was in the lost and found

You came along, to claim it.

I didn't know what was wrong with me

'Til your kiss helped me name it

Audrey sniffed loudly, wiping at her eyes. "I hate you."

"Zat is why I am your best friend," Fleur said with a laugh and kissed Audrey's cheek.

oOo

Sprawled in a chair, tumbler in hand, a booted foot propped up on the coffee table, Bill regarded Percy and Oliver who were a jumble on the sofa. Dougal and Fergus used to wonder if the two of them were more than friends, but Bill always insisted his brother liked girls. However, there was some truth to it. Percy and Oliver weren't romantic, but they were closer than just friends. They were more like brothers, and with a pang in his chest, Bill realized he envied Oliver Wood.

"Everything was going so well," Percy said. He pushed his glasses up. "We'd had a few dates. I was a-a proper gentleman, Bill, I was."

Bill snorted. "I doubt that worked in your favor."

Percy ignored him, but Oliver laughed.

"I didn't take more liberties than I thought were strictly appropriate," Percy pressed on, waving one finger in the air importantly. He suddenly deflated. "But I wanted to. Audrey's a temptress, she is."

Bill would have used the words "pain in the arse," but that was neither here nor there.

"But she must have finally tempted you," Bill said, his head rolling lazily against the back of the chair so he could look at his brother.

Percy blanched. "It was September 2."

The date clicked in Bill's brain immediately. It was hard to forget a night like that.

"The adrenaline," Percy said. The blush on his cheeks intensified. "Then, after we'd done it once…."

"So you must not have been too bad the first time if she wanted you again," Bill commented, his mouth pulling into a smirk.

Percy sat up straight, spluttering incoherently. Oliver was laughing.

"Relax, Perce," Bill said, but his eyes were twinkling. "I just wanted to make sure that you took care of her needs."

"Of course I did! I told you I was a proper gentleman."

Oliver nearly rolled off the sofa he was laughing so hard. "Wh-what does being a-a pr-prop-proper gentleman have to do with shagging, Percy? Did you keep your tie on?"

Percy flicked his wand at Oliver, who then fell off the sofa with a loud thud and grunt.

"Boys," Bill chided. He waited as both young men straightened up, then asked, "What did Audrey say the next morning?"

"She didn't," Percy said. "I went to get breakfast while she was sleeping, and she was gone by the time I got back."

"Huh. And you haven't spoken to her since?"

"I tried, but she won't speak to me."

Bill's brow furrowed. "And you're sure she enjoyed herself. I mean, she wasn't faking it?"

"What?" Percy screeched. "Of course. I was—I made sure—I-I-I—"

"Have another drink," Oliver said. He tapped his wand to Percy's glass and watched it refill.

Percy took a big gulp of Firewhisky, spluttered and coughed, then threw himself against the back of the couch. "Cheers."

"Alright," Bill said, amusement dripping from his voice. "Assuming that she was satisfied—"

"I was very attentive," Percy snapped. He glared at Bill over the rim of his glasses.

"All kidding aside," Bill continued.

"Cheers, prat," Percy muttered.

"Do you want my help or not?"

"Yes, yes, of course, my apologies."

"Much better," Bill said. He sat forward, propping his elbows on his thighs. "One of Audrey's brothers was in my year. Brian and I were prefects together, and I'm pretty sure it came down to the two of us for Head Boy. We weren't friends, but we were…associates, I reckon. I knew Brian had two older sisters, and his younger brother was a prefect with us. I never knew there was another sister until I met Audrey, and my first assumption was that she was a cousin."

Percy's brow was furrowed. He was taking in everything Bill said, carefully cataloguing it.

"Furthermore, she was an oddity at Hogwarts. She was one of those Ravenclaws who was brilliant, but didn't care about her studies, you know the kind."

Percy nodded, though Oliver looked puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"Like Ginny's friend, Luna," Percy said.

Bill nodded, "Exactly, and I think you know how those Ravenclaws are treated."

There were always Ravenclaw misfits. Kids who were incredibly intelligent, but had no social skills. Or students whose interests were particular or odd. Those kids were either ignored or hazed by the other Ravenclaws. Audrey had been the type who was ignored. Fleur had told Bill once that she had seen her friend stand in the middle of the common room, and people had walked by her as if she were invisible.

"Anyways," Bill said, shaking off his thoughts. "Audrey isn't used to being the center of attention, and when she is…. She likes it, but she's afraid of it."

"What do you mean?" Percy asked. He set his glass aside, and watched Bill avidly.

"I've seen her with other men, Perce," Bill said. "She likes it when they flirt with her, and she likes to go home with them, if you know what I mean."

Percy nodded his head slowly. Oliver snorted.

"But she doesn't let any of them get too close. Moreover, she doesn't become emotionally involved."

"You can't get hurt if you don't care?" Percy asked.

"Exactly." Bill nodded. "But she's invested in you, Percy. I've never seen her as infatuated with another man as she is with you. Bit sickening, that."

Percy ignored the taunt. "So…so…why pull away?"

"Why indeed?" Bill replied.

Oliver rolled his eyes. "You Weasleys are so damned cryptic. She's scared, Perce."

Bill grinned at Oliver. "Well spotted." It was on the tip of Bill's tongue to say that Oliver reminded him of Dougal, but he kept that to himself. Dougal had been a good judge of character.

"So," Percy said slowly. "How should I proceed?"

"Don't give up on her, Percy," Bill said. "If you want to be in her life, you'll have to prove it. Use all that annoying persistence to win her over. You're going to have to prove to her that she can trust you."

Percy nodded. "So, how do I do that exactly?"

"I think you let her set the terms," Oliver said. "Play by her rules until you get under her skin."

"There you go," Bill agreed, with a nod in Oliver's direction.

"Well, I have to be able to speak to her first, don't I?" Percy moaned.

"She's friends with your brother's wife," Oliver said with a pointed look at Bill.

"Hold on there, Wood!" Bill shook his head. "I did not volunteer to play matchmaker."

"You don't have to," Oliver replied. "You got married, all that will be taken care of."

Bill gave Oliver a two-fingered salute. Percy could manage his own love life, thank you very much.

Chapter 18

Notes:

Warning: This chapter contains scenes of violence and sensitive subject matter.

Fleur was looking over her menu for the night as she sat at her Gringott's desk. Bill had been somewhat annoyed when she announced her intentions of having Audrey and Percy over for dinner. Her husband accused Fleur of acting like his mother. This made her very cross, and Fleur had not decided if she forgave him for that or not. That had been a week ago.

Likewise, Audrey had been suspicious when Fleur suggested that she should join the married couple for a small repast. Audrey had given Fleur a hard look, then proceeded to decline the offer until Fleur begged. It was very humiliating, and Fleur had told Audrey so, and declared that this was a sign of her true love and devotion to her annoying little friend. Audrey had laughed, and Fleur thought that maybe she did not forgive Audrey either.

Percy, at least, was gracious and gentlemanly upon accepting his invitation.

"Miss Delacour," barked Bodrod.

Fleur's head snapped up. "It is Mrs. Weasley."

The goblin sneered. "Deliver these parchments to Beedle and Bains Wizardry Law immediately, impertinent chit. They are of the utmost importance."

Eight fat scrolls toppled onto Fleur's desk. She stared at them, then turned her glare on her boss. "You expect me to go into Diagon Alley alone?"

"I'll hardly pay two useless girls to do the job of one, will I?"

"You know it is dangerous to venture into the streets unaccompanied."

"My," Bodrod drawled, "is the high and mighty Triwizard Champion afraid she will meet a grindylow in the streets of Wizarding London? Be gone, girl, or be sacked!"

Heat surged into Fleur's cheeks. Staring mutely at the small, fowl, hateful creature, Fleur clutched her quill so tightly it snapped in two. The other secretaries were staring at her from under their eyelashes and out of the corners of their eyes, but they all remained silent as they awaited Fleur's next move. None of them were her friends, but Fleur had earned their respect by being the only one in the office with enough backbone to stand up to the tiny tyrant they worked for.

For a long moment, Fleur considered telling Bodrod to cram his parchments where the sun did not shine (a delightful expression she had learned from her brother-in-law, Ron), but she was not going to act like a petulant child. Her pride was hurt, yes, but that was not reason enough to quit a good-paying job at a time like this. Bill made plenty of money, but all of her income funded the Order of Mercy, she could not sacrifice that for her own ego.

Deliberately, Fleur rose from her desk. Standing very tall and erect, her blue eyes tossing daggers at the goblin, she flicked her wand at the parchments which Levitated from the desktop. Retrieving her purse from the bottom drawer, she looped it over her arm and walked out of the office with her head high, the parchments trailing behind her.

oOo

"Oh, Audi, thank you for babysitting."

Kitty Sprayberry Pucey bustled around her foyer, pulling on her cloak over her robes and shoving her feet into wellies. Her daughter, Caro, followed her around, a bedraggled doll trailing behind her. While gathering her wand and purse, Kitty rambled on about Caro's schedule.

"What has you so wound up?" Audrey finally asked, ignoring the schedule.

Kitty stopped and looked at Audrey, blinking. Then she forced a smile. "Don't be ridiculous."

"What emergency has caused you to call me to babysit?" Audrey pressed. "Why not take Caro to Sprayberry House so Dolly can watch over her?"

Audrey adored her nieces, but she was the youngest. What she knew about children fit into a thimble, a fact her sisters were perfectly aware of. Kitty dropped down to her daughter's level and whispered something into the four-year-old's ear. After the little girl trotted off, Kitty stood and crossed the foyer to Audrey's side. The youngest sister suddenly felt very nervous to hear whatever Kitty had to say. There was a pinched, strained expression about her mouth and brow that worried Audrey.

"I can't take Caro to Sprayberry House," Kitty said in a low voice. "I don't want Mother to know what I am doing."

"And what are you doing?"

Kitty's mouth thinned into a line. "I am helping Sarah set up some bank accounts in her name."

"But that's grand! Is she—"

Kitty silenced Audrey with a look.

"There is nothing grand about it," Kitty hissed. "The thing at the Ministry a few weeks ago has Albert in a lather, and not with the Ministry. He's getting in deep."

"She should have left him at the altar," Audrey insisted.

"Don't be a child. What's done is done. When it comes to marriages, the undoing is not a simple thing. Planning and secrecy is the only thing to extract Sarah and the girls from this mess. Can I count on you?"

"Of course!"

"Good." Kitty rubbed her forehead.

"What about Lance?"

"What about Lance?"

Audrey's brow furrowed. "Well, surely he's some ideas on how to help Sarah."

Kitty looked at her sister for a moment, then became absorbed with the contents of her purse. "I can't burden Lance with this just yet."

"What?" Audrey demanded, hands on her hips. She didn't like the sound of that. As far as she knew, her sister and brother-in-law didn't keep secrets from each other.

"Lance is under his own pressure."

"At St. Mungo's?"

"Well, yes, of course, but you must know that it's more than that." Kitty snapped her purse shut, clutching it to her chest.

"How so?"

"Must I paint you a picture?" Kitty huffed. "He's a pureblood and a Slytherin of good family."

Audrey spluttered for words. It was outrageous to think that Lance Pucey could become a Death Eater, but Audrey was afraid she knew all too well the kind of tactics You-Know-Who's henchmen would use. The last war was full of accusations that the Imperious Curse was employed liberally, but Audrey doubted it ended there. Blackmail, corrosion, threats, that type had so many tools at their disposal. Were they threatening Kitty or Caro? His family? In public, the Puceys always put forth an image of cool, familial unity, but it went deeper than that in private. There was true affection between Lance and his younger siblings.

"What will he do?" Audrey whispered.

"He's managed to put them off for now," Kitty said, her shoulders sagging. "But it's only a matter of time, and I don't know what we will do then. He is against taking the Dark Mark."

Audrey pulled her older sister into a hug. Kitty and Lance had always given Audrey hope that love like the kind in her romances really existed. That maybe there was a man out there who thought she was worth waiting for just the way Lance had waited for Kitty.

Both of her sisters were young women out on their own before Audrey even left for Hogwarts. They used to gossip in front of Audrey, assuming that she was too young to understand the implications of drinking, partying, and sleeping around. It wasn't long, however, before partying gave way to other things. For Sarah, it was marriage, but Kitty had turned in her good times for a career in law. However, it was a trip to St. Mungo's for a terrible case of Dragon Pox that would change Kitty's life for the better. Assisting the Healer on her case was Lance Pucey. After Kitty was discharged a few days later, covered in flaking spots and looking wan, Lance asked her for a date. Kitty always said that a part of her had wanted to hex him for asking at the exact moment she was looking her absolute worst, but she still accepted. It was the start of a long and quiet courtship while each of them finished their apprenticeships. It wasn't exciting, there had been no grand adventure, but Audrey recognized that her sister's romance had been a truer and deeper one than could be found in any book.

"Mumma," Caro complained. "I bored!"

Kitty pulled out of Audrey's embrace and wiped tears from her cheeks. "Auntie Audi will play with you, poppet. Mumma will be back soon."

Watching her sister kiss the little girl's cheek, Audrey felt the weight of the war pressing in on her family in unexpected ways. She took her niece's hand, and they waved Kitty out the door.

oOo

Fleur delivered the parchments to the law office, then made a quick exit. This was not her first trip to Beedle and Bain's, and she detested them. They were lecherous, small men who ogled her behind the Pence-nez that sat precariously on their bony noses. The office girl was equally unpleasant, and smelly. Fleur always left the establishment feeling dirty, but on this day, the feeling of unease went further. It was Diagon Alley itself.

Stepping out onto the sidewalk, Fleur hurried up the lane in the direction of the bank. The barrister's office was found on a lonely and quiet side street, adding to Fleur's feeling of isolation. Every shadow held a dark wizard waiting to strike. The blasted gloom Fleur always hated about Great Britain was thicker here, in the center of the magical world.

Feet from Diagon Alley, Fleur heard the dull rattle of cans being knocked onto the ground. She whipped around, wand out. A scrawny tabby cat streaked across the street and into the shadows. Chest heaving, Fleur hurried to the intersection.

"Here, kitty, kitty…"

The voice came from behind Fleur—male and sneering. She shivered, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up, she could feel the danger swirling around her ankles. Her high heels clicked against the cobblestones and echoed off the buildings of the bottled up street as she ran. She was about to burst onto Diagon Alley when a man in black leather robes stepped out of the shadows and into her path. Gasping, Fleur tried to pivot, her ankle turning. Pain shot sharp and stabling in her ankle as she toppled to the ground.

"Hm, what have we here?" the man murmured. "Not a pussy, but a bird?"

He circled around her, smirking. It was he who looked like the cat, one who was pleased to play with the mouse he caught. Fleur wanted to smack that expression off his face, but she knew that she must be patient. Tucking her injured leg under her, she surreptitiously healed it with her wand, still keeping her eye on the man. She recognized him. He'd been at King's Cross, and again at the Apothecary. He was the one who leered at her. The pain of her ankle healing provided Fleur with a helpful distraction from the fear that was clawing at her insides.

"Yer a sweet little birdy, ain't ya?" the man said. "What do you think, boys?"

Two others came out of the shadows, blocking Fleur's means of escape. She pushed herself to her feet, holding her wand hidden in the folds of her skirt.

"You are Snatchers, non?" Fleur said in a low voice. She was proud of how steady her words came out. "You work for zee Ministry, bringing in Muggle-borns who have broken no laws. I am not a Muggle-born, you have no business wiz me."

The one in black leather was looking her up and down slowly. This should be nothing to Fleur, men had been leering at her since she was merely a girl, but this man made her skin crawl. He was young, maybe only a few years older than she. He had a kind of feral good looks, with long dark hair and good bone structure. Yet everywhere his eyes touched—her neck, her breasts, her waist, her buttocks, and legs—made Fleur feel unclean. She kept a careful watch on him from the corner of her eye. Every instinct told her that he was the true danger.

"Snatchers?" he drawled, closing in on her with a smirk. "I much prefer…contractors, don't you, Humphries?"

"That's right, Scabior," grunted this Humphries. He was a stocky man who licked his lips as he eyed Fleur's body. "Contractors."

The other man said nothing, his eyes vacant with awed stupidity.

"We get paid real nice to provide a service to the Ministry, you see," Scabior said. "We help rid 'em of the vermin plaguing our society, a noble profession surely."

Fleur kept very still. He was now inches from her face. She could feel his hot breath on her neck, and shivered involuntarily.

"You, pretty little bird, are nothing but half-blood scum—and not even human. The Ministry might be dealing in Mudbloods now, but they'll get 'round to yer kind soon enough."

"If I am no value to you, zen let me pass," Fleur growled.

"But see, yer wrong about that, Mrs. Weasley," Scabior said.

Ice rushed through Fleur's veins.

"I think you know things the Ministry would pay a lot of Galleons for. Information about your husband's blood traitor scum family? About the Order of the Phoenix? Don't you think, Farley?"

The man with the stupid face grunted.

"I know nothing!" Fleur hissed.

"Maybe," Scabior said and shrugged. "Maybe not. Either way, we'll have our fun figuring that out."

The other men snickered. Scabior stroked Fleur's cheek with the back of his hand. Lightening quick, Fleur grabbed his wrist and bent it back, causing him to unbalance. Her wand sliced through the air, slashing across his cheek. Scabior howled as he landed on his buttocks, hand to his cheek.

Fleur spun away, wand held high. The other two men fumbled with their own wands, still holstered in pockets. Not sacrificing the advantage, Fleur fired a spell at the stocky one. Vines grew up from the ground to wind around his legs and waist. He was grunting and cursing, casting severing spells at the vines only to watch them regenerate.

The man called Farley shot a Body Bind curse at Fleur, but she cast a shield then blasted the man off his feet with a loud cry. There were people in these buildings. Beedle and Bain was only yards away. Surely someone would hear their fight and come to help.

"The pretty birdy has talons, blokes," Scabior growled. He wiped blood from his cheek, looked at it on his fingers, and then nonchalantly ended the spell entrapping Humphries.

Fleur wheeled her wand-arm around to Stupefy Scabior. Her spell collided with his, causing an explosion that sent both of them reeling back. No one came. Windows shuttered and doors locked, but no help came and Fleur knew then that none would be. She needed to send a Patronus to Bill….

Fleur was hit with a leg-locking curse. She fell to the ground, her knees striking the cobblestones and she yelped in pain. There was no time for that. She reversed the spell, shooting an Impedimenta Jinx at Humphries. Jumping to her feet, she saw the man trip and crash onto the street. She hit him with a full body bind then turned her attention to the two men advancing on her.

"You think you can handle two of us, you filthy bitch?" Scabior said. Blood still oozed down his cheek, his teeth bared. Hate radiated off of him, but so did lust. He would do terrible things to her before he killed her, Fleur had no doubt.

Of the two men, Scabior was the better dueler. Farley shot hex after hex, but Fleur easily deflected them. It was Scabior she had to be wary of. He was trying to circle around her, to trap her between himself and his associate. Fleur knew she could not let that happen, that would mean capture. She flicked her wand and a brick wall grew out of the ground, forcing Scabior back. She turned her attention to Farley. She must rid herself of this gnat if she hoped to escape. Ropes shot out of her wand, but he dodged them and retaliated with his own spell. Fleur narrowly missed being hit with the Cruciatus curse. Screaming, she attacked the cur with birds from her wand.

"OI!"

Scabior hit Fleur with another leg-locking curse. As she collapsed onto the hard ground, she saw a glimpse of ginger rushing onto the street. Bill? But no, it could not be. She ended the curse on her legs and forced herself up once more. It was one of the twins. Tears came to her eyes at the sight of his familiar face. Relief surged through her veins, making her slow. The twin was dueling Farley, who was being forced back by the ferocity of the spells being cast at him. Fleur tripped the man, who fell with a grunt.

"Stupefy!" the twin roared.

As quickly as the assailant went down, the twin was hit with the Cruciatus curse. The Weasley crashed to his knees on the cobblestone with a scream of pain. Whipping around, Fleur blasted Scabior into the brick wall she had conjured. He hit it with a sickening thud, crumpling to the ground, and she exploded the wall. The explosion reverberated around the street, ringing in Fleur's ears, brick showered down on the Snatcher.

"Bloody hell, Fleur," panted the twin, climbing to his feet. "Remind me never to piss you off."

Wide-eyed, Fleur stared at the rubble. One limp hand stuck out from under the bricks.

"Let's go before one of these arseholes comes around," the twin said.

Grabbing her hand, he dodged out of the alley with Fleur in tow. She followed him blindly, her mind reeling. Fleur tried to grasp any one thought, but it was like water through her fingers. She could not process what had just happened, and the only thought she could hold onto was that she wanted to see her husband and she wanted to see him now.

"Bill," Fleur mumbled.

"Yeah, just hold onto your knickers, I'll get us there," the twin said.

The next thing she knew, they were walking through the great, ornate doors of Gringotts. Security wizards yelled after them to stop and the twin told them to "bugger off." They were standing before the tall desk at the end of the hall, a very grand goblin peering down at them. The twin wrapped his arm around Fleur's shoulders, tucking her against his body.

"We need to see Bill Weasley. Now."

"And who are you?"

"I am his brother, George, and this is his wife, Fleur Weasley, who works for your miserable bank, you effing sod. Now, I want to see my brother."

The security wizards finally caught up with them. "Oi," one of them panted, pointing his wand at George, "you can't waltz in here like that."

"I didn't waltz. Did it look like I was dancing?" George used his wand to push the security wizards back, then announced loudly, "You up there! Get my brother or I'll cause a scene, it's up to you."

Within moments, George and Fleur were being walked back to the stark white employees' corridor.

oOo

"Weasley, there you are," Cecil Hill said as Bill walked into the Curse Breakers Department, parchments tucked under his arm.

"Did you miss me there, Cecil dear?" Bill replied, his eyes twinkling. Cecil had been Head Boy the year before Bill, the blond man with the serious demeanor was driven to distraction by the laid back way the Weasley brothers (Bill and Charlie) handled their prefect duties.

"Not even for a minute," Cecil responded with a roll of his eyes. "An aide came by saying your brother is making a scene."

That was shorthand for the twins, though it was odd that they referred to "brother" singular. Bill sighed, but a part of him was a bit worried. Fred and George could get up to all manner of mischief, but they usually respected work, especially their own. Given that it was the middle of the day, whatever they were up to was disturbing their own work. Depositing the parchments onto his desk, Bill turned to Cecil with his hands propped on his hips.

"Where can I find the troublemakers?"

Bill made his way to the first floor employees' corridor in a bit of a hurry. It still nagged at the back of his mind that something was wrong for the twins to show up at Gringotts in the middle of the day and demand to see him. If this was some prank, or something to do with Potterwatch, Bill would simply kill them where they stood and do the whole world a favor. He passed a few grumbling goblins muttering about ill-mannered, uppity wizards. Bill grinned, that would be his brothers. The goblins didn't care much about the poor manners, but they detested "uppity" wizards, it niggled at their inferiority complex.

Traipsing down the stairs and into the bright, white corridor, Bill saw George standing at the end with one arm around Fleur, who was staring at the wall blankly. George's posture spoke volumes though; he stood rigidly with Fleur slightly behind him, and his jaw set. He looked as if he would kill anybody who dared to touch her. Every muscle in Bill's body tensed, and his stomach bottomed out. Calling out his brother's name, he broke into a run.

Even before Bill was five feet from the pair, Fleur looked up. Her face was colorless, and her hair straggled out of its bun with long strands tumbling down her back and over her shoulders haphazardly. At the sight of him, tears sprang into Fleur's eyes. With a guttural sob, she launched herself into his arms with such force that Bill had to pivot to crash into the wall or they would have been on the floor.

"Shh, shhhh," Bill soothed. His arms went around her tightly. Loosening her hair so that it spilled down her back, he smoothed his hand over it again and again. With her head buried in his chest, Fleur sobbed loudly. Secretly, Bill was grateful for the wall at his back. Seeing Fleur like this scared Bill so badly that his knees were shaking.

Looking around, George moved so that he was standing in front of the pair against the wall. Bill locked eyes with his younger brother, who still held a grim, black expression. It was startling to see George like that. Merlin, he'd managed to smile the night his ear was cursed off. That look on his brother's face scared Bill even more.

"What happened?" he managed to ask, his voice rough.

"I found her in Diagon Alley being attacked by three Snatchers," George said, his voice pitched low.

Bill's arms went tighter around his wife. "What?"

Fleur sniffed loudly a few times, but quieted down.

"Did—did they hurt you?"

Fleur looked up and shook her head, fat tears still pooling in her eyes.

"She had one down and out by the time I got there," George said with a nod in Fleur's direction. "She had the other two about done with, but I thought it would be right gentlemanly of me to lend a hand."

Fleur shook her head. "George saved me. I would not have lasted much longer if he had not come along."

"Are you taking the mickey?" George said, and a small grin came to his face. "I knew you were a Triwizard Champion, but I had no idea you could duel like that. Bill, she was amazing! Have you seen her duel?"

Bill nodded, looking down at Fleur with pride. They had sparred many times, she was hard to beat even for a wizard with his skill and years of experience. Still, three on one? Bill shivered.

"She created a wall." George leaned in close, speaking in hushed tones. "Then she exploded it on top of one of the bastards."

Fleur began to tremble all over again, tears running down her cheeks. "I zink I killed him," she whispered.

Bill's eyes went round, then flew to George for confirmation.

"No way!" George said, then looked around and lowered his voice. "I mean he totally deserved to get dead, but you just broke a few bones and gave him a hell of a headache. We can hope he'll be out of it for a few days, but not dead."

"Are you sure?" Bill asked.

"It was a wall, Bill, not the killing curse," George replied more seriously. "Listen, I have to get back to the ol' triple W or Fred'll have kittens, won't he. Ickle Freddie worries about me."

Bill stuck his hand out. "Thank you, George."

George stared at the offered hand, then shook it. "Yeah, well, we take care of our own. Me and Fred will be around later to check on you."

For a moment, Bill starred after his brother. Then he shook off his daze.

"C'mon, love, let's get you home," he whispered into Fleur's ear.

She nodded, and he very carefully led her through the back halls to his office to collect his things. Merlin, what a mess.

oOo

It had never occurred to Percy that he might want to be an Auror. Of course, he'd played Aurors and dark wizards with his brothers growing up. More often than not, Bill and Charlie would make Percy be the dark wizard, or worse, the witch in distress. Yet, as the third Weasley son skulked through the corridors of the Ministry to some dank, dark, and (most importantly) forgotten chamber in its bowels, Percy thought he might have missed his calling. All this cloak and dagger stuff was rather exhilarating, actually, and a quick, thorough mind was a necessity. Perhaps he would change vocations when all of this was over.

"Weasley! Over here," hissed a voice from the shadows.

Percy nearly jumped out of his skin. Then again, perhaps he was better suited for a desk job.

A figure in the red robes of the Auror department materialized. Liam Williamson looked grim, his shoulders held stiffly and his mouth hard. It was difficult to believe the man was no more than twenty-five. Despite the sandy ponytail and the roguishly stubbled jaw, the former Gryffindor looked tired and drawn. Though Williamson had been Charlie's dormmate, Percy couldn't remember much about him. There had been a lot of boys in Charlie's year, more than double the four Gryffindor boys in Percy's. All he could remember about this one was that he was nice to the younger students and friendly with Charlie, but not close.

Little more than twenty minutes before, a memo had flown onto Percy's desk. At first, the parchment had been blank, but when Percy waved his wand over it on a whim, writing had appeared requesting this rather unconventional meeting. However, the missive had been unsigned. Percy had taken a long time to consider if he should appear at this rendezvous or not.

He was still not sure that he'd made a wise decision.

Looking at the other man, Percy's first instinct was to trust him, but Percy wasn't so sure his instincts served him well. After all, Williamson might be a Gryffindor, but he wasn't a member of the Order of the Phoenix. Why was that?

"Why have you called me here?" Percy asked, gripping his wand tightly.

"Word of today's dramatics haven't reached your lofty office yet?" Williamson said. He held his hands up to show that he was unarmed.

Percy considered the Auror for a moment, but decided to keep hold of his wand. "Should they have done?"

"Your sister-in-law had an unpleasant encounter with some of the Ministry's more charming associates."

"Fleur?" Percy scowled. "Quit being so bloody cryptic, and get on with it."

A ghost of a smile pulled at Williamson's mouth before he sobered again. "I forgot that you are the humorless Weasley."

"If I wanted this type of abuse, I'd go home."

"You're right." Williamson sighed, dragging one hand down his face. "I wanted you to know that Fleur Weasley was attacked by Snatchers in Diagon Alley today."

Percy gave one small nod. "Was-was she harmed?"

"She has not been admitted to St. Mungo's, but she was sent home from work. Apparently, she put up one hell of a fight before another party came to her aid. No word on who the man was, but he was ginger and wearing blindingly bright robes."

"One of the twins, then," Percy muttered. "Why are you telling me this?"

"The men who attacked her were led by a wizard named Scabior, a particularly vicious and cunning bloke who, rumor has it, takes orders from Fenrir Greyback."

Percy sucked in a breath. His stomach roiled and his hands became sweaty. "Was-was she targeted because…."

"I don't know. Even under the new, erm, administration, the Auror department doesn't want to be seen aligned with the likes of Greyback, but he wants in on the money—"

"And victims," Percy added.

Williamson nodded. "Yes. The money, and victims, rounding up Muggle-borns provides."

"So, this Scabior, he's something of a face man?"

"Somebody's been reading crime novels." Williamson arched an amused eyebrow, one corner of his mouth pulling into a smirk. "I had you pegged as the lover of dusty, old biographies of former Ministers of Magic."

Percy glared. "So, what now? Why is it important for me to know this?"

"Because Scabior is out for blood." The Auror sobered instantly. "Your sister-in-law humiliated him. He was trying to get her pulled in for assault on a Ministry official."

"What?" Percy's mind reeled at the implications. Azkaban? Certainly. A nice, long torture session prior? Possibly.

"Yes, but your father came in and made a big scene." Williamson smiled. "You would have been impressed. He played on his blood status—how dare these hooligans attack an innocent woman, the wife of pureblood golden boy Bill Weasley—and he wanted redress. Mr. Weasley pointed out that Fleur was a Triwizard Champion and the daughter of an ancient Wizarding family in France. Then some of the veteran Aurors like Shacklebolt weighed in—pointing out that assaulting innocent citizens was the act of a totalitarian state and was Pius a dictator? That got Yaxley's attention, but he wasn't happy about it."

"Could the attack on Fleur be Yaxley's orders?" Percy asked, pushing his glasses up. "As a way to strike at the family?"

"Possibly." Williamson cocked his head to one side, considering the idea before continuing. "Long story short, your sister-in-law should go underground. Scabior is out for blood, and Yaxley doesn't much care what he does as long as he doesn't get caught. I'd say she should return to France, but if you lot are behind what I think you're behind, then she's too Gryffindor to run and hide."

There was a beat where silence lie between the two men as thick as a foggy morning as Percy absorbed the implications of the other man's words. Williamson knew. He knew about the Order of Mercy. Or at least he suspected, and he was trying to get Percy to betray more information.

Keeping his face carefully blank, Percy said, "What do you mean? You know I've no contact with my family. Haven't for years. In fact, I believe you have chosen the wrong person to relay your message."

"I don't think I have." Williamson folded his arms over his chest, regarding Percy with narrowed eyes. "I understand the need to play it close to the chest, but know that I can be a friend."

"Why? You aren't a member of the Order of the Phoenix, why is that?"

"I'm a bit too straight laced for their tastes."

"And now you're not?"

"Rather like you, I would say," Williamson said with that damned cocky grin.

Percy twitched. "Don't be ridiculous."

"Listen, Tonks and I were in Auror Training together, yeah? She was Moody's protégé, and me? I was Scrimgeour's man."

There was another silence as Williamson's words hung in the air. Percy took a minute to mull them over, let them sink in. It was true that Williamson had often been on Scrimgeour's personal detail. A memory flashed across Percy's mind. A rather mundane day at the Ministry, about a year ago, and Scrimgeour wanted to go into Diagon Alley to show it was safe. Williamson had been part of the Minister's security team that day. At Flourish and Blotts, Scrimgeour had bought a book—a Muggle book of poetry or maybe Shakespeare—then he'd handed it to Williamson with a fond, almost paternal smile. The younger man had returned the smile, opening the book with a shake of his head.

"What did he buy you that day?" Percy asked. "In Flourish and Blotts?"

A sad smile came to Williamson's face. "Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet. He said I spent too much time on the Bard's histories and needed romance in my life. I don't think Scrimgeour realized that the play ends in double suicide."

The gears in Percy's head were turning, grabbing ahold of stray threads and weaving them together. "The pub fight…the disappearing report…that was you?"

The Auror nodded.

Percy fisted his hands at his sides. "And you tipped me off about the Snatchers' attack the night that..."

"Yes."

"All because Scrimgeour was your mentor? I don't think I buy that."

Williamson shrugged. "It doesn't really matter what you believe, except for one thing: I am on your side, and I can be of use to you."

"How is that?"

"Information. Surely Scrimgeour taught you the importance of information."

Certainly, Williamson had already proven that he could provide useful intelligence, but Percy couldn't help but feel suspicious. Too much was at stake if this man double-crossed him. Being a Gryffindor, being Scrimgeour's man, that was not enough reason to put blind trust in Liam Williamson. However, he had saved Percy's behind once by covering up the pub incident. The information regarding the Snatcher attack allowed Percy and Fleur to save Bill, Audrey, and Angelina from capture, or worse.

"Why not go to the Order if you suddenly want to fight Death Eaters?" Percy asked.

"There will be plenty of opportunity to fight Death Eaters, but the chance of saving Muggle-borns from Azkaban is now. I want to do what I can."

"How do you know what we are doing?"

Williamson held Percy's gaze, then blushed. "Catriona Wood," he muttered, his eyes sliding away.

"Excuse me?"

"Fergus Wood and I were mates. After Hogwarts, after Charlie left for Romania. I met up with Fergus at a pub one night, and the next thing I knew, we were drinking pints and chatting up witches. But you know how it is with the Wood brothers: you can't be friends with one—"

"And not the others," Percy finished. It was true. He may not have been close to Dougal and Fergus, but they had always treated him like another little brother.

"Yes, I spent more than a few nights drinking with Dougal, and on rare occasions, with Catriona as well." Williamson hung his head. "She is an amazing woman, and Dougal was a lucky bastard to have been loved by a woman like that. Two good men died that night in Little Helga. It's not right."

"Poppycock," Percy scoffed, folding his arms over his narrow chest and lifting his chin. "I suppose you took Scrimgeour's advice and started reading romances? You'll have me believe that you are willing to risk certain death because of a torch you carry for another man's wife?"

Anger flashed in Williamson's eyes. He gritted his teeth, then, "I didn't say she was my reason. I said it was through Catriona that I figured out what you were up to. I knew her name was on Umbridge's damned list, but by the time I had worked out how to warn her, she was already gone. It wasn't hard to put the pieces together after that. I am an Auror, after all, and a bloody good one."

Stricken, Percy paled as he took in what Williamson was saying. Fleur, Audrey, Angelina, Alicia, Oliver, all of them had taken such pains to be careful to cover up the activities of the Order of Mercy. They had known that eventually the Ministry and the Death Eaters would realize there was an organized effort to save the Muggle-borns, but not this quickly. They'd been careless somewhere along the way. But where? What had they done or not done?

Racking his brain for an answer, Percy began to pace. After the Ministry break out, Fleur had called a temporary halt to their activities to allow any suspicion to die away. After two weeks, the Order of Mercy had very slowly begun to resume their activities. At first, it was just one Muggle-born and his family. Then three. This week they had six families slated to be moved out of the country. It was so much, and so little. Percy shoved his glasses up his nose. Where had they been careless?

"Weasley," Williamson said.

Percy stopped pacing and looked at the man, eyebrows furrowed in question.

"You can relax. Nobody knows but me."

"How can you be sure?" Percy asked.

"I've made it a point to make friends with several of the Snatchers, as loathsome as that may be." Williamson's lip curled. "I've also managed to charm the pants off Yaxley's secretary."

Percy narrowed his eyes. Objectively speaking, Williamson was a handsome bloke. Had he meant the last part metaphorically?

"Well…" Percy grunted.

Williamson smirked, eyebrows raised. "Don't put a lot of thought into that one. Just know that I've managed to gain unprecedented access to Yaxley's office. These Death Eaters are arrogant bastards. They think they're invulnerable."

"Yes, it will be their downfall," Percy said, deciding it was safer to focus on that aspect.

"Regardless, what I'm trying to tell you is that no one is looking for a connection between the disappearing Muggle-borns and an organized group." Williamson propped his hands on his narrow hips. "You've been careful, Weasley, just as I would expect. If there has been even the smallest evidence of your involvement, I've covered it up."

"I suppose I am grateful," Percy allowed, his arms held tightly to his sides. "But I still don't see what's in this for you?"

"I was a Gryffindor, not a Slytherin, there doesn't have to be anything in it for me other than the thrill."

Percy shook his head. "You'll have to forgive me if I don't take you at your word. There has to be a reason, and don't give me that tripe about it being the right thing. Plenty of people, Gryffindors included, look the other way. There must be a something else."

The two men stared each other down. They were taking measure and trying to figure out where faith could be placed. Williamson was asking Percy to put an unprecedented amount of trust in him without a solid reason, and Percy found this unacceptable. If all the man said was true, then of course Percy was grateful. Another ally in the Ministry would be much appreciated, but Percy needed more than Gryffindor camaraderie to place his trust in this man. Williamson had invoked many emotional triggers for Percy: Scrimgeour, the Woods, his family. But it didn't take much digging to discover that Percy himself had been close to the former Minister, nor Percy's connection to the Woods. Furthermore, as Charlie's former dormmate, there was no question that Williamson knew what family meant even to a truant Weasley.

Gritting his teeth, Williamson swung away. "I have my reasons, and they are my own. You are just going to have to trust me."

"That's not good enough," Percy pushed back, glowering at the other man.

"If you're so damn curious, look at the list of Muggle-borns sent to Azkaban," Williamson said and pushed past Percy. "Play detective, Weasley. Until then, tell your sister-in-law to lie low."

Chapter 19

Notes:

Author's Note: I should have included this note in last week's chapter, but I didn't want to give away the ending. Liam Williamson is not an OC. He is one of the Aurors sent to arrest Hagrid in Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. Do not for a second think I was clever enough to remember this obscure character. I wanted to thank PJHope for reminding me that Liam Williamson existed, and bonus points for making him handsome and dashing. (He looks a bit like the actor Taylor Kitsch, if you must know.) Thank you, PJHope, for inspiring my imagination. Check her out, she was several wonderful stories, including the epic Dumbledore's Army and the Casualties of War on Fanfiction.net

Audrey walked into Fleur's kitchen and was surprised to find Mrs. Weasley standing at the stove. When Fleur had insisted that they get together for supper, Audrey had assumed that her friend was playing matchmaker, which would be awkward to say the least. Especially when Audrey spent the whole night pretending as though she'd never met Percy Weasley before. However, Audrey didn't think that Fleur was ambitious enough to plan a family intervention on top of meddling in Audrey's love life.

Something was wrong.

"Oh, Mrs. Weasley," Audrey said, hastily closing the door and wiping her shoes on the doormat.

The older witch spun around, wand in hand.

Hastily, Audrey stuck out her hand. "I'm Fleur's friend, Audrey. We met for a moment at the wedding."

Also, I slept with your son then dropped him like a hot potato.

"Forgive me, dear," Mrs. Weasley said, pressing a hand to her bosom. "That was a hectic day, I'm afraid I don't remember you."

Audrey tucked her hair behind her ear. "Quite understandable. Um, I was supposed to have supper with Bill and Fleur tonight, but…."

"You haven't heard?" Mrs. Weasley frowned, then flicked her wand at the oven and a loaf of what smelled like apple cinnamon bread floated out and landed gently on the range. Storing away her wand, she looked at Audrey with sorrow. "There was an…incident on Diagon Alley today."

"Are Bill and Fleur—"

"They are well, but Fleur was attacked while delivering something—"

"For that bloody awful goblin she works for," Audrey snarled. She looked up at the older witch and colored. "Sorry for my language."

Mrs. Weasley sighed. "I'm afraid I've heard worse, but you are correct in your description."

"May I see her? Is Bill with her?"

"He is still at the bank." Mrs. Weasley pursed her lips. It was as if a thundercloud passed over her features. "His awful boss would not permit him to leave work! He had to send for me to fetch Fleur home."

Audrey blinked, not quite sure what to make of that revelation. She knew that Bill missed a lot of work between his responsibilities to the Order of the Phoenix and the full moon. No matter that the married couple downplayed its effects on Bill, Audrey knew he suffered from more than a few scratches. She also knew that goblins could be demanding, and sometimes, cruel employers. If the bank didn't pay so well, Audrey suspected that fewer wizards would work there.

"Well, he can't be happy about that," Audrey finally said.

"Quite." Mrs. Weasley gritted her teeth as she arranged four plates of warm bread, a teapot, and four cups and saucers on a tray. When she turned to Audrey again, the fierceness had cleared, and she offered a motherly smile. "Go on up, dear. Take this with you."

Audrey levitated the tray before her. "Um, who are the other plates for?"

"Fred and George."

Fred and George, the notorious Weasley twins. They had been a year behind Audrey, but everybody knew who Fred and George were. Their escapades were infamous. Audrey pictured them at the wedding, chatting up Fleur's cousins. Charming devils, that's what her mother would call them.

After a brief knock on the door, Audrey pushed it open to find Fleur sitting up in bed flanked by the twins. Fleur immediately looked up, her eyebrows raised expectantly, pensive hope flashing in her eyes. When she saw it was Audrey, the blonde witch's shoulders sagged, and she sank into her pillows.

"Hoping I was somebody else?" Audrey asked.

"Only a tall, ginger bloke with a face like mincemeat," one of the twins said.

"I do not care if you saved my life today, George Weasley, I will hex you into next week if you talk about my husband like zat," Fleur warned in a low, dangerous voice. For emphasis, she jabbed George in the ribs with the tip of her wand.

"So you're George, then," Audrey said as she set the tray on Fleur's vanity table.

"And I'm Fred, the handsome one," said the other twin with a devilish smile. "And who might you be?"

"Zis is my friend, Audrey," Fleur said with a frown at her brother-in-law. "She was at our wedding, did you not meet?"

"I believe they were too busy flirting with your cousins to bother with the likes of me," Audrey replied, and clasped her hands before her sweetly.

Fred clutched his heart dramatically. "Oi, you wound me."

"Is that Mum's bread?" George asked, and got up to collect a plate. "Would you like one, Fleur?"

Fred sauntered over as well. Standing over Audrey, she noted that he wasn't nearly as tall as Percy, but she appreciated the width of this brother's shoulders. She wasn't the only one making an appraisal. His blue eyes roamed over her once, then returned to her face. Audrey knew that she looked fetching. Assuming that Fleur was playing matchmaker, Audrey had put on her favorite orange, long-sleeved frock. She knew she was being stupid even as she dug out the brown tights that went with it. She didn't want Percy, so dressing up amounted to nothing more than leading him on. Something that Audrey was morally opposed to. She might be easy, but she did have some standards. That didn't keep her from putting on makeup, though.

"See something you like?" Audrey asked Fred. She cocked one hip out and placed her hand on it.

He smirked. "We must have been at Hogwarts together, how have I never met you before?"

"I was a year ahead of you and in Ravenclaw, why would you have done?"

The cocky bastard didn't even question how she knew him.

"I made it a point to know all the pretty girls," Fred replied. "Right, brother?"

"And they all made a point of not knowing you," George replied.

"Audrey," Fleur said sharply. She was sitting up in bed and glaring at her company. "Make me a cup of tea, s'il te plaît."

Shooting her friend a scathing glare from the corner of her eye, Audrey did as she was told. She added an extra teaspoon of sugar because the only thing Fleur hated more than tea was tea with sugar. Nodding at Fred, Audrey skirted by him and shoved the teacup into Fleur's hands with such force that hot liquid sloshed out, staining Fleur's pink dressing gown. The French witch scowled.

"Am I ruining your matchmaking plans, Mrs. Weasley?" Audrey hissed.

"You cannot flirt wiz Fred after sleeping wiz Percy," Fleur whispered through clenched teeth. "It is…. It is…."

"French cat have your tongue?"

Anger flashed across Fleur's eyes as she stared at her friend. Her entire, beautiful face was contorted in fury, her mouth pinched and her eyebrows drawn. Audrey's own face remained passive. She didn't appreciate Fleur's attempts to throw Percy at her.

"Are you telling secrets?" Fred called.

"Not very polite, that," George added.

Fleur flashed Audrey one more dirty look before smiling at her brothers-in-law. "You two have been so kind to visit, but I zink I need to rest."

Audrey arched her eyebrow incredulously, but Fleur ignored her.

The twins looked at one another, arms crossed over their chests.

"I think we're getting the kiss-off," Fred said.

"That's some how-do-you-do after I came to her rescue," George put in.

"Like a regular knight errant."

"Like Lancelot."

"Like Sir Cadogan."

"Oi! I think I was a bit more useful than all that."

"You were very useful," Fleur said, looking at George with her hands clasped in her lap. "I am tres, tres grateful to you, but I am also very tired. Your mother gave me a calming draught and now I am—how do you say—drowsy."

George looked at his shoes, his ear burning bright red. Ear, singular. It suddenly became obvious that its mate was gone. Blinking, Audrey sank down on the mattress beside Fleur. She had known that George Weasley lost an ear in a battle, though Fleur had not told her any details. There weren't any obvious marks from a distance, in fact Audrey had not noticed his missing ear at first. Now though, she felt a little queasy just thinking about it. She glanced up at the twins and realized that both of them wore their hair a bit shaggy around their faces, covering their ears. They must be growing it out.

"We should be getting back to the shop anyway," Fred said.

"Left it a bit of a mess so we could check on you," George admitted.

"Tell Billy Boy that he missed his favorite brothers."

"And that we'll harass him later."

Waving as they left, Fleur and Audrey sat in silence as they listened to the twins clatter down the stairs.

"Audrey," Fleur said sternly after a moment. "You cannot—"

"What happened?" Audrey blurted out.

Fleur set her cup and saucer on the bedside table and covered her face with her hands. "Oh…Audrey…." She looked up with fat tears shining in her blue eyes.

Kicking off her shoes, Audrey crawled into bed with her friend. They wrapped their arms around each other and sank down into the bedding, Fleur crying into Audrey's shoulder. It was hard not to imagine any number of horrible scenarios, but Audrey pushed away images of assault and worse. Her friend was here, safe in her arms, Audrey had to take that as proof that Fleur was unharmed.

"It was zat man," Fleur whispered, wiping her pink nose with the edge of her morning gown. "Zee one from zee Apothecary, remember?"

The image of a leering, leather-clad ruffian formed before Audrey's mind's eye, she shivered. "What did he want?"

"He said he wanted information, but…." She tucked her head down so that her eyes were hidden.

Audrey tightened her arms around Fleur's shoulders.

"He had two others wiz him."

"But you fought like a hellcat, yeah?"

Fleur nodded. "Like a Veela."

They both laughed shortly.

"Then there is nothing left but a scorch mark?" Audrey asked.

Fleur collapsed into sobs. "I zink I might have killed him!"

Stunned, Audrey froze with her arms around her friend. It was easy to say good riddance to such human vermin, but killing a man was no small thing. As Fleur took great, sucking breaths between sobs, Audrey considered how such a thing would lie on her own conscience. Claiming it was self-defense, no matter how righteous, didn't ease the guilt of cutting short another human life.

Tears rolled down Audrey's cheeks. She closed her eyes in an attempt to stem them, but they came anyway. Everywhere she turned, it seemed that the war was showing its ugly face. Audrey thought of her sister and brother-in-law who were weighing their ethics against the safety of their family. Funny, handsome George Weasley who was maimed, but smiled anyway. Fleur, who might have the blood of a man on her hands, a man who would not think twice about raping and torturing her. Audrey felt small and helpless in the face of all of this darkness.

She wished she could turn a blind eye to it all. Like her mother, like her father. Just become so lost in her books that she didn't see how people were suffering, how their souls were being ground down. Audrey wasn't made that way, though. Some days it took every ounce of courage she had, but she could not turn away from the horrors of the war.

oOo

To say that the rest of Bill's day had been spectacularly unproductive would be an understatement. He'd agonized over Fleur in those long hours, the worry eating away at his stomach. It was a small comfort when he could drag his mind away from his traumatized wife to glower at his goblin boss. Galdrick wasn't a bad sort, as far as goblins went, but like many of his race, he had little sympathy.

Galdrick had cited every day Bill had missed work since he'd been mauled by Greyback: the recovery, the wedding, the honeymoon, the full moons, and more. There was no consideration that many of those days were earned leave or fell under Bill's accumulated sick days. Galdrick had looked Bill in the eye and told him if he took another day this month, it would be his last. It had taken all of Bill's restraint not to hex the little bastard into next year. In the end, Bill knew he needed to keep his job, especially when he was about to become the sole breadwinner.

There was no way in hell that Fleur was returning to the bank, whether she liked it or not.

So, Bill had sucked up his bile and his pride, turned on his heel, and left the goblin's office. After that, he'd sent a Patronus to his mother who had come swiftly to collect Fleur.

In his mind's eye, Bill saw Fleur's face as his mother had led her out of the bank earlier that day. Wisps of blonde hair straggling around her face, Fleur had been very pale. Her eyes had been dull and vacant. It was like looking at a very beautiful and lifeless doll.

It was that image trapped in Bill's head when he walked into his kitchen to be greeted by his mum scolding his twin brothers. The three of them fell silent as Bill closed the door, staring at him pityingly. It chafed, those stares, he'd seen enough of them after the mauling.

"Oh, Bill dear," Mum cooed. She bustled over to him, and patted his cheek gingerly. Her eyes were searching his face for signs of distress.

"How is she?" Bill asked quietly.

"I gave her a calming draught," Mum said. "That seemed to help. She's with her friend in your bedroom now."

"Thank you," Bill said, his voice coming out as little more than a whisper. He bent to kiss his mum on the forehead.

"We kept Fleur right entertained, didn't we, brother?" Fred said from where he leaned against the worktop.

"Rolling with laughter," George confirmed.

"In fact, she said she obviously married the wrong brother."

"Said you were a bit of stick in the mud, Billy boy."

"Right, but we were dead funny, and she needed a good laugh."

"Thought she might run away with the two of us," George said.

"Being the suave, debonair wizards that we are."

"You forgot handsome, brother."

"Well, that goes without saying."

The twins folded their arms over their chests and looked at Bill, who couldn't help but smile at their absurdity. Walking to George, Bill placed a hand on his shoulder and a look passed between them. The emotion, the sheer gratitude Bill felt towards his younger brother simmered in his eyes, but Bill couldn't find the words to express himself.

George reached up to pat Bill's hand once, and looked away.

"Go on, dear," Mum said quietly. "I'll put a casserole under a warming charm for the two of you, then I have to return home. Send a Patronus if you need anything."

Bill glanced over his shoulder. "Cheers."

With one last pat on George's shoulder, Bill bound up the stairs to his bedroom and burst through the door. He froze on the threshold for a moment or maybe a century, his heart racing and his palms damp. The worry, the fear Bill had been holding in check throughout the day came crashing in on him as he watched Fleur sit up and look at him over Audrey's shoulder. He hardly noticed as the other witch slid off the bed and vanished, Bill only had eyes for his wife.

"Godric, Fleur," he muttered.

Since the moment his mum took Fleur away, all Bill was able to think of was how Fleur needed him, and he wasn't there. She needed him to protect her on Diagon Alley. She needed his comfort and support, and he was stuck in the bloody bank. The need to hold her, to tell he would never let anyone hurt her—he felt it in every muscle. Not being able to do it left him gutted.

Finally, Bill could lay eyes on Fleur. Relief broke open in his chest, spreading through his veins in a warm rush. She was safe. His wife, his Fleur, was safe. Then he was on the bed, in her arms, his head buried in her chest, and his cheeks were wet.

"Sh, shh," Fleur murmured, her fingers working through his hair. "It is over, mon Bill. Shhh."

oOo

From where Percy stood, he could see his mum walk to the Apparition point outside the wards around Shell Cottage. She had a knit shawl draped over her shoulders, which were hunched against the wind, and a battered witches' hat pinned to her graying hair. She looked much the same as she always had, except more tired than Percy could ever remember seeing her.

It was odd, seeing his mother. Since the day he left the Burrow, Percy'd had the misfortune of running into his father at the Ministry almost weekly. The encounters were always the same: they would both turn red, their mouths pinched, and they would scurry off in opposite directions at the first opportunity. The first time this happened, Percy had been caught by surprise. Strangely, though, those encounters never ceased being a surprise.

For all the times Percy ran into his dad, he'd only seen his mum a handful of times. Once, he'd seen her with a collection of his siblings, Harry Potter, and Hermione Granger across the street on Diagon Alley. They were visiting Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, Percy was lurking in the candy shop across the lane. After Bill was maimed, Percy saw his mother at a distance on several occasions. He even caught a glimpse of her at Bill's wedding. He liked to think of her as he saw her that day—only a few months ago. She looked happy and busy, words that were synonymous for Molly Weasley.

As Percy watched his mum Disapparate, he considered that she looked harried and worn down.

After a moment, Percy stepped out from behind the rock he'd been using as lookout. He'd seen the twins Disapparate twenty minutes ago so Percy knew that it was now safe to visit Shell Cottage. It was a short walk, and when he finally entered the kitchen of the Cottage, Percy thought that just maybe his luck was changing.

Audrey looked up from where she stood at the counter and tucked her hair behind her ear.

"Um, hello," Percy said as he quietly closed the door behind him.

Audrey dipped her head in greeting, but her eyes slid away from him.

Oh Merlin, what did one say to the girl who ran out after a great shag?

"Are Bill and—"

"Bill and Fleur are up—"

They both stopped, having just spoken over one another. Percy felt his ears grow warm, but he didn't care. Seeing Audrey—goodness, she looked pretty in that frock—seeing her made his heart beat a little faster and his knees knock together.

"Hello, Percy," Audrey said quietly. She tucked her hair behind her ear again.

"Hello to you, too."

Would it make him a prat if he said he missed her?

"I-I'm glad you're here," Percy said.

"Well, it was nice seeing you, too, but I was just leaving actually."

She moved toward the door, but Percy stepped into Audrey's path. It had been an impulsive move, and now that he was face to face with her, Percy wasn't sure what his next move should be. Audrey was looking up at him with those incredible, big, brown eyes, an expectant light in them. Yet all Percy could do was stand there with his mouth agape.

Would it make him a prat if he just kissed her? Because, Merlin, he wanted to.

"You finally decided to turn up, did you?"

The couple jumped apart as Bill stalked into the kitchen. The elder brother eyed them before snorting and yanking open the cooling cabinet. A charged silence clung to the kitchen as Bill pulled out a Butterbeer and opened it. He took a long pull on it, Audrey and Percy studiously avoiding looking at each other or Bill.

"So, what?" Bill demanded, slamming his bottle on the counter. "Did you wait for Mum and the twins to leave before walking up to the house?"

Percy glanced at Bill. "Well, yes, actually…. "

Bill snorted.

"I'm not ready to see them yet."

"Coward."

"Bill," Audrey barked.

"They are your brothers," Bill continued, his eyes boring into Percy. "George nearly died only a few months ago, but you can't be arsed."

"You-you know that's not true," Percy said, but his voice came out in a whisper.

"And what about Mum? Do you think she cares if you're 'man enough' to return to the fold? All she wants is her family whole."

"I know that," Percy said. "But that doesn't—"

"But you don't care that you break her heart?" Bill charged, his eyes hard and cutting.

Percy turned red. "That's not true," he hissed. "You know—"

"What I know is that you always have to have your own bloody way, or you sulk. You're petty and selfish and prideful. You put your needs ahead of the family's."

"That's not true! You know that's not true!"

"What about the day you walked out? Where were you when Dad nearly died? Why did you send back Mum's Christmas gifts? What about the time you brought bloody Scrimgeour to bloody Christmas dinner?"

"Oh, spotted that, did you?" Percy shot back. "I thought you had your head too far up Fleur's skirts to even notice that I was there, much less that my family rejected me again."

"We rejected you? We didn't walk out on you."

"Bill!" Audrey yelled.

Percy wouldn't allow himself the luxury of looking at Audrey. No, he kept his eyes on his brother. The one brother who saw him, when all the others were looking at the spectacle of the twins. Or so Percy thought. It was not as if Bill had never chastised Percy before. He'd had harsh words for him after that first Christmas—the one when Dad was nearly killed by He Who Must Not Be Named's snake. But Bill had never hurled the words at Percy like bombs, and he'd never done it before an audience.

While he might not be looking at her, every part of Percy was aware of Audrey standing only feet away, witnessing his humiliation.

Carefully, Percy placed a rolled piece of parchment on the butcher block. "Maybe," he said, his voice round and empty in the center, "I just got tired, Bill."

He walked out.

oOo

"Percy! Wait!" Audrey scrambled around the butcher's block, but she was too late. Percy was already out the door.

"Let him leave, it's what he's good at," Bill snarled.

"What the bloody hell was that?" Audrey shouted, rounding on Bill.

There was something in Bill's eyes, like a wounded animal. All of the scathing words she had for him died on Audrey's lips. Stupid men, all of them.

"I know you're scared," she said in a low voice. "I know you are angry and you feel helpless, but Percy isn't your personal whipping boy."

"Mind your own business."

Hot, betraying words formed in her mouth, but Audrey swallowed them back. She picked up the parchment that Percy left behind and unrolled it. A quick scan showed that it was a copy of the Auror's report of Fleur's attack with the names of the assailants carefully redacted, but it confirmed that the Snatchers in question were alive and well and facing "probation" while Fleur was cleared of any wrong-doing. Cynicism squirmed in Audrey's chest. If they weren't careful, she had no doubt that Fleur would be made to pay for today's events one way or another.

"Here," Audrey said, and passed the parchment to Bill. "Fleur will want to see this."

The anger she felt on Percy's behalf was winding down. Audrey could feel a tremor jump in her arms as the emotion exited her body. Not sparing Bill another look, she turned on her heel and pushed out the door, letting it bang behind her. Hopping down the stairs, she called out Percy's name.

Please, don't let him be gone already.

Chapter 20

Notes:

Chapter twenty already? How have we come so far so soon?

Things you should know about this chapter:

1) It's one of my favorites.

2) In 1997, I had a crush on a boy who owned houndstooth trousers. They were horrifying.

3) In 1999/2000, I worked for Gap in a much less glamorous town than London.

Disclaimer: The characters and setting belong to JK Rowling.

Percy was halfway to the Apparition point before he stopped and began the march back to Shell Cottage. Bill's words had left the younger brother heartsick because he was afraid they were true. Petty? Selfish? Prideful? Yes, he'd been all of those things the day that he walked out on his family, but he'd also been not yet nineteen-bloody-years-old. And another thing, there wasn't a Weasley from noble Bill to little Ginny who couldn't be accused of the same damn things.

He'd walked into the Burrow that day two years ago having finally done something that none of his brothers had ever done. For weeks he was in a state of turmoil after the disastrous end to the Triwizard Tournament. He was under intense scrutiny and it seemed very likely that the career he'd worked so hard for was over. He'd be lucky if he didn't end up in Azkaban. Percy had never even gotten a chance to process the events of the final task or the supposed return of He Who Must Not Be Named before Cornelius Fudge was standing over Percy with this incredible offer.

The memory of the penetrating relief Percy had felt in that moment made Percy's knees go weak. He'd been spared and promoted. Promoted! Relief was quickly chased by pride. He rushed to Penelope's office with the good news. Now, when Percy pictured Penny's face he could see the anxiety mixed in with the excitement, but he hadn't noticed it then. Instead, they'd made plans for later in the evening. First, though, he wanted to tell his family.

Only his family had not viewed it as good news. Quite the contrary, Dad even tried to forbid him from taking the position in the Minister's office. Percy had been gob smacked. He'd pictured the fuss Mum had made over Bill when he was offered the curse breaker position with Gringotts. Percy could remember Mum worrying happily over Charlie when all of his dreams were realized and he took the position with the dragon reserve. The sight of Dad's hand first on Bill's shoulder, then Charlie's, as the older Weasley expressed pride in his sons' accomplishments was emblazoned on Percy's memory.

That night, the night Percy announced his new position in the Minister's office, Dad had not smiled and clapped Percy on the shoulder. No, he'd turned red in the face and prattled on about Dumbledore and He Who Must Not Be Named and if Percy hadn't really thought much about all of that before, he knew in that moment that Dad was addled to follow Dumbledore anywhere.

Words as hurtful as any hexes were hurled back and forth, and before Percy knew what was happening, he'd walked out and Apparated straight to Penny's. He was so angry and so hurt. All he ever wanted was for his parents to be proud of him and for the world to see him as Percy Weasley, not as Bill and Charlie's tagalong younger brother or Fred and George's annoying older brother. Percy had thought that taking such a lofty position within the government—and at such a young age—would be the first step in making his own name. Instead of being happy for him, his family turned their backs on him over this mental lie Dumbledore was telling.

After an hour of ranting to Penny, Percy had been red in the face with tear tracks dried on his freckled cheeks. Even then, a small part of Percy knew that Dad was right about Fudge and Dumbledore, but he was too angry to admit it. Besides, once he calmed down, Penny had changed his life for the second time in one day.

On the beach, with twilight crowding around him, Percy shoved all of those memories back into the box from whence they'd come. There was no point in rehashing what he couldn't change. He had walked out on his family. In fact, he'd also walked out on Penelope in the end. He'd even walked out on Oliver once, but thankfully found the courage to go back. Ollie forgave him, and Percy had to admit that he probably hadn't deserved it. He'd wanted to return to his family for a long time, and if Oliver could forgive him, maybe his family could, too. But he couldn't return the same person. He couldn't be the person who walked out every time the emotions rode too high. Not with his family, and not with Audrey. If he wanted to deserve either one, then he had to have the courage to stay.

That's why he was trudging back to Shell Cottage to give Bill a piece of his mind. Just because Percy had been an immense arse in the past did not mean that Bill had the right to talk to him like that. They were brothers, dammit! It was time they acted like it, and Percy was pretty sure being Bill's brother at the moment meant bloodying his lip. Because Bill could be an insufferable arsehole just like the rest of the Weasley boys.

Within feet of Shell Cottage, Percy saw Audrey rushing up the beach.

"Oh, Percy!" she cried. She threw her arms around his neck. "I was so afraid that you had already gone."

"I'm not walking away anymore," Percy said. His long arms went around her narrow back. Merlin, it felt right to hold her.

"Don't listen to Bill." Audrey pulled away and looked up at him in the shadows of the pre-dark. "He's just scared, and he's taking it out on you. It's not fair."

"You're trembling," Percy murmured. "You must be freezing."

oOo

Before she could answer, Percy's outer robe was placed around Audrey's shoulders. It was still warm from being close to his tall, lean body, and it held the shower-clean scent of his soap and endless cups of tea. Though she wasn't particularly cold, Audrey gathered the fabric around her and reveled in its heat.

"I'm just charged up," Audrey said. The tremors were in her shoulders and neck now. "Bill made me so angry. He had no right to talk to you—"

"Shh. Don't. He wasn't wrong, you know."

Percy's voice was low, like the rumble of thunder in the distance that promised a soft spring rain. Gently, he rubbed his hands up and down Audrey's arms. The tremors began to subside. Soon, Audrey found herself standing on the darkened beach with only the sound of the waves and the feel of Percy's hands on her arms to anchor her to the world.

"He was wrong," Audrey said in a small voice that only barely disturbed the quiet of the night.

"Hm?"

"Bill. He was wrong about you."

"No, he wasn't," Percy replied mildly. "I've been all of those things. So has he. They are very human flaws, I've just collected them in greater quantities than most. That doesn't mean I can't be a better man, though."

Audrey was quiet in the face of Percy's philosophy. She was pretty sure that she was supposed to be in awe of Percy for admitting his foibles and expressing a desire to be better. Honestly though, she was just annoyed. Couldn't he see that he already was better? Maybe he was prideful and he was definitely stubborn, but he wasn't selfish or petty. He was actually quite giving and thoughtful.

"Forgive me, I know this will make me sound like a prat," Percy said. "Where have you been?"

For a split second, Audrey considered playing dumb, but she knew what he meant. Why had she left that morning, and cut him out of her life? His hands were still rubbing her arms, it made her want to do something imprudent. Like admit that she was afraid that she would get hurt if she let him too close. What if she let him see the bookish girl with the odd fascination for Muggle science and trashy novels and he decided that she wasn't nearly as interesting as the girl who ordered slippery nipples in the pub?

"I don't want to be your girlfriend, Percy," Audrey blurted.

There was a moment of silence, then, "I never asked you to be my girlfriend."

"Oh."

"You sound rather disappointed for somebody who doesn't want to be my girlfriend."

Audrey couldn't make out his expression in the dark, but he sounded—

"Don't get cheeky with me!" She folded her arms under the robes.

"I am Percy Weasley," he said in his most pompous voice. "I do not get cheeky."

At first it was a stutter, then Audrey was laughing outright like the ringing of a bell. She didn't know if she found the fact that Percy was secretly funny charming or annoying. However, there was no denying the way her stomach swooped when his richer, deeper laugh joined hers on the nighttime beach.

"I miss that," Percy said. He brushed his fingers through her hair.

"What's that?" Audrey asked, dabbing at tears that had formed in the corners of her eyes.

"Hearing you laugh. Laughing with you." He edged closer by a fraction. "And running my fingers through your hair."

Audrey swallowed hard. "I don't want you to get the wrong idea, Percy. I don't want you to think we are something that we are not."

"Then why don't you tell me what we are?"

Despite the dark, Audrey dropped her head so that her hair hung over her face. "We're…friends."

"I could be your friend. In fact, I would like that very much."

"We could…." Audrey's throat went dry, but she found the courage to look up at him. "We could be friends who shag."

Percy moved another fraction closer. "Intriguing. Tell me more."

The low rumble of his voice caused a shiver to tumble down her spine. This time, Audrey found that she was the one erasing the fraction. It felt like energy was humming in the narrow space that separated their two bodies. Maybe that should have been a warning to flee: Danger! Beware of electrocution! But Audrey felt her caution falling away, she wanted to step into the spark.

"We would have to set some ground rules," Audrey said, that saucy grin spreading across her face.

"I'm very good at following rules."

"First: I am not your girlfriend, nor will I be. We are friends who shag, that is all. Second: No gifts or pet names, Gryffindor."

"You are already breaking your own rule, minx."

"These are rules for you, not me. I have no delusions about what we are."

"Which is friends who shag."

"Yes, and as such, I am going to need you to stock your cabinets with more than tea and Muggle bread. I get mean when I'm peckish, and that is no fun for anybody."

"I'm to feed you…."

"It's in everybody's best interest, trust me. And, this one is very important, you'll need to buy new bed sheets."

"Bed sheets?"

"Correct. The ones currently on your bed—quite aside from the fact that it looks as if you went shopping at St. Mungo's fire sale—are very scratchy. I mean, really, Percy, was it a form of self-punishment? Do you also have a hair shirt somewhere?"

"So, let me get this straight?" Laughter lined Percy's words. "You are not my girlfriend, but I have to buy you new sheets?"

"They're for you, really. With that ginger complexion, I would imagine that you have very sensitive skin."

"Do I get to set any rules?"

Audrey thought about it for a moment. She didn't particularly want him to have any power in the relationship, such as it was. Being near Percy was dangerous, if she were going to protect herself, she needed to be the one in charge.

She opened her mouth to speak, but was silenced when Percy's hands curled around her wrists lightly.

"I want to be in charge," he said into her ear.

oOo

Percy held his breath as he waited for Audrey's answer, noting that she stiffened within his hold, but didn't pull away. He hoped that was a good sign. Honestly, he knew this gambit was a risk, and it could blow up in his face spectacularly. Bloody hell, he hardly knew what he was asking. All the same, his heart was racing, and his loins were tight with anticipation.

"What do you mean?" Audrey peered up at him. "In charge?"

This was the time, he could sense it. Now or never, Gryffindor.

"In the bedroom," he said.

Audrey went very still but she didn't pull away. Some little devil in his head was telling him that he, Percy, needed to win this one concession from her. If he let her have all the power, he'd never break through all of her defenses.

"Or the kitchen," Percy said, that same devil goading him on. "Or the coffee table in the living room. Or the shower. Or…."

"What would you have me do?" Audrey asked. Her voice held one note of apprehension and two notes of fascination.

Percy smirked. "Oh, I don't think it's a matter of what I want you to do so much as it's what I want to do to you."

Silence.

Then, "For example…."

"For starters," Percy said, "you will not be removing that frock tonight until I say so."

"And why is that?"

"Because we'll both enjoy what I have planned to do under your skirt."

There was another silence, this one full of stubbornness. Percy was winning this venture, he could taste it on the air. Audrey was nearly vibrating with excitement within the gentle hold he kept on her wrists. Not that he expected complete capitulation. He fully expected (and hoped) that there would be a great deal of give and take on Audrey's behalf.

"You want under my skirt?" Audrey scoffed. She pulled her arms out of his grasp and crossed them over her small breasts. "Not very creative, I must say. Surely you can do better than that."

Damn little minx! Pages and pages of fantasies from Playwizard tumbled through Percy's mind, overheard snippets of his brothers' braggadocio, and a plethora of desires he'd never had the courage to ask for with Penny, all of it came to mind. Percy was immensely glad for the darkness so Audrey couldn't see the blush that burned through his body as he pinpointed his dirtiest desire.

Deciding that he couldn't ask for that one, Percy leaned in and whispered a tamer request in Audrey's ear.

She giggled and looked up at him. "Percy!" The foxy smile was evident in her voice. "Well, that explains a lot about you and Oliver."

Dumbfounded, Percy stood rooted to the sand as Audrey sauntered up the beach, her laughter trailing behind her.

"Now wait just one moment!" Percy hollered. His feet slipped in the sand as he tried to scurry after.

oOo

Bill swung out of bed. There wasn't even a hint of sunlight outside their windows, but he couldn't lie there, tossing and turning, another moment. It was an awful, restless night full of doubt and worry and helplessness. Looking back at the bed, Bill could see the outline of Fleur's sleeping form. She'd been relieved to find out that man—the one who attacked her—was still alive. Bill couldn't share her feelings on the matter. Yes, he was glad that Fleur didn't have a death on her conscience, but he couldn't be happy that scum still breathed.

Shoving his feet into slippers, Bill padded down the stairs to prowl around the kitchen. They didn't have dinner the previous night, he should be hungry, but he wasn't. Grabbing a skillet, Bill banged it onto the range. Cringing, he strained to hear sounds from above. He didn't want to wake Fleur. It didn't matter how angry he was, that was no excuse for bad manners.

He didn't light the burner, instead he just stood there, completely useless. That's what he was, of course, useless. In a matter of weeks, Bill would turn twenty-seven. It seemed sometimes, as if Bill had been born into a world at war. Certainly, he lived through more years of conflict than peace. When he was a kid, he'd always been aware of the war outside his home. There were restrictions on how far from the Burrow he and his brothers could travel, his parents rarely traveled to Diagon Alley, and never with the family in tow. And, of course, his uncles were fighting the good fight. In all those years, Bill couldn't remember being properly scared, not until Fabian and Gideon were killed.

Suddenly, the house felt too small, or maybe it was Bill's own skin. Rolling his shoulders, Bill stalked onto the back porch, the cool night air hitting his face and bare chest. Beyond the waves crashed against the surf. Daylight was still hours away. He just wanted this day over, or maybe erased.

Was the world this dangerous when he was a boy? It felt like the darkness crowded in nearer and nearer everyday, and Bill was helpless to stop it. Fleur, his wife, was attacked on Diagon Alley. Bill dragged his hand down his face, then hissed as he felt his fingers snag his scars. Pain throbbed in his face. Dammit. Dammit! Rage rose like bile, impotent and corrosive.

Fleur needed him, and he hadn't been there.

The door opened, soft light pouring from the kitchen onto the porch. Fleur stood there in her pink dressing gown, her long, silvery hair floating about her. She should go home, to France, where she would be safe, but there was no point in telling her that.

"I didn't mean to wake you," Bill said, his voice growling.

Fleur frowned. "You have hurt yourself."

She reached up to touch his face, but Bill pushed her hands away.

"It's nothing."

"What are you doing out here? You must be freezing."

"I'm fine. Go back to bed, love, you've had a trying day."

Of course, she didn't listen. Fleur slipped onto the porch, closing the door behind her. It was almost completely black, but Fleur shone against the night. She was like a beacon, promising warmth and comfort. Turning away, Bill walked to the railing and leaned against it. He stared unseeingly into the night.

For a moment, there was silence on the porch.

Then, "You must be cold," Fleur said again.

Bill didn't answer. Goosebumps covered his skin, which ached from the chill of the breeze. He preferred that to the rage in the pit of his stomach, or the numbness that threatened. Every time he thought about what could have happened to Fleur….

"I will make tea," Fleur said when his silence stretched too long and tight. "I will get your cloak."

"No." Bill shook his head, his hands curling around the rail. "Don't. Just go back to bed. I-I need a moment. That's it."

"I was very scared," Fleur said. "Zere were zree of zem."

Her words pummeled his icy skin. "I know. I'm sorry."

"For what? Zere is nothing for you to be sorry for."

"You can't go back to work," Bill said harshly, whipping around to look at Fleur.

"I know."

"They'll be hunting you. They'll want to make you pay."

"I know."

Another beat of silence played out between them. Bill regretted the harshness of his words. It was no small thing for a woman like Fleur to admit that she was afraid—he knew that better than anyone. He wanted to put his arms around her, to let her cry and tell him all the fears that were eating away at her, but he couldn't seem to. He felt frozen in place by his own fears. It made him feel like less of a man.

"Fleur," Bill said, his voice sounded rusty to his ears. "Go inside and put the kettle in, I'll be in by the time it whistles."

Finally, she did as he asked.

oOo

"…and then he told me to play detective."

At Percy's flat in London, Audrey shivered as Percy finished his tale about skulking through the bowels of the Ministry to meet mysterious Aurors. He was taking such risks, and she didn't like it, not one bit. Scooting closer to him on the bed, Audrey lay one hand on his bare flank and tried not to think of all the awful ways that meeting could have ended.

"Do you trust this Williamson?" she asked.

Percy rolled onto his back and pulled Audrey with him so that she was half-draped over his chest. After several hours of exploring the "shagging" portion of their arrangement, and sharing day-old takeaway on Percy's lounge floor, they were snug in his dark room. Percy had dressed Audrey in a pair of his pajamas, rolling the long sleeves and legs up a ridiculous number of times. He'd said that it would protect her delicate skin from his scratchy bed sheets. Then they'd climbed in bed and begun the process of removing the pajamas all over again.

After a long moment, Percy said, "Do I trust him? I don't know. I want to. He was a Gryffindor and Charlie's dormmate and an Auror."

"Those are not good reasons to trust a person these days."

"I know." Percy blew out a breath, his fingers trailing down her arm lazily. "It would be nice to have an ally in the Ministry, though. Especially one who has already covered for me so many times."

Audrey lifted her head to look at him through the dark of the room, but she could only really make out the rim of his glasses and the outline of his jaw. "Well, I think your next course of action is to find that list of Muggle-borns sent to Azkaban, just like he said."

Percy yawned, then removed his glasses and placed them on the bedside table. "I'm supposed to meet Oliver at five for a run."

"That's absurdly early."

"Will you be here when I get back?"

Audrey tucked her head into his shoulder, her fingers drawing circles over his chest. "Will you have breakfast?" Her voice came out as little more than a whisper.

"Yes, and the newspaper."

"Alright, then." Audrey closed her eyes and hoped she wasn't making a big mistake.

oOo

The next few days seemed to meld into one another. Officially, Percy asked for the report of all the Muggle-borns sent to Azkaban. Unofficially, he forwarded the names of those scheduled before the Commission to Fleur. He noted that his newly unemployed sister-in-law was stepping up efforts with the Order of Mercy. Audrey spent every night on some hidden stretch of beach making Portkeys. Then she would show up on his doorstep looking windblown, and he would meet her with some takeaway and a kiss.

On Saturday, Percy begged off his morning run and was rewarded by Audrey waking him up by crawling on top of him.

"Per-cy," she sing-songed. "Rise and shine."

"Too early," he grunted. His hand groped down her back until he could squeeze her bottom. "Back to sleep."

"C'mon, Gryffindor, part of you is already rising to meet the day," Audrey cooed into his ear, then wiggled her bottom against his erection.

Percy ran his hand under the hem of her nightshirt, then chanced cracking one eye open. "Did you wake me up for a shag?"

"No, I woke you up to go shopping, shagging is just an added benefit."

At that, Percy opened both eyes and put his glasses on so he could see Audrey's face more clearly. "That sounds like something a girlfriend would say."

"Rule number four clearly stated that you needed to buy new bed sheets, and today is the day."

"But first a shag?"

Audrey giggled. "And breakfast."

Later in the morning, a freshly showered Percy stepped out of the bathroom to find Audrey dressed in jeans and one of his old jumpers. He noted that he'd never seen her wear robes and wondered if that was a personal preference or if she did it to annoy her mother. Just as that thought flittered through his brain, she looked up from the list she was making.

"Step lively," she said. "We'll need to find a Muggle-worthy outfit for you."

"Why is that?"

"Because we're going to a Muggle department store, of course."

Percy adjusted the belt on his dressing gown. "No, I mean, why are we going to a Muggle shop and not a wizarding one?"

"Well, because Mrs. Abbington's Emporium of Household Necessities has sadly been closed for a year now and Hogsmeade is…."

"Dark and dangerous?" Percy supplied quietly.

"Yes, precisely," Audrey murmured then looked up with a bright expression. "So, it will have to be Debenhams as I think their prices will be the least shocking to you."

"Um, cheers?"

"Now, go put on some jeans." Audrey looked up, her pretty mouth pursed. "You do own jeans, don't you?"

A blush crept up Percy's neck. "Well, no, but I'm sure I have some trousers that will do."

"I'll just add Gap to the list, shall I?" she said with a flourish of her quill. "Now, let's see about these trousers."

"What's the Gap?"

Audrey was pushing Percy into the bedroom. "It's an American shop that sells jeans. Americans do denim best, but it is also particularly useful to us because the sizing is in both Standard and metric. Americans might do denim best, but they are also very stubborn about changing their standard of measurements."

At the bedroom door, Percy turned around and Audrey collided with him. With a slow smile, he wrapped his arms around her. Her lips were pursed again, so he decided to take advantage of the situation and kiss her.

"What is metric?" he asked. "And how do you know so much about Muggles?"

"Nearly the entire Muggle world switched to the metric standard of measurement a few decades ago." Audrey sidestepped Percy and went to the wardrobe. "Everything is in sets of tens. Much more sensible really. Percy, your selection of trousers ranges from dowdy to fuddy duddy."

Pulling on his pants, Percy felt a blush sweep up his neck. "I don't have reason to, um…."

"Relax?"

"I work a lot." Percy felt as though that was the most pathetic statement he'd ever uttered, and he'd once lectured his brothers on the importance of the thickness of caldron bottoms.

"Here." Audrey thrust a pair of tweed trousers at Percy. "It was this or houndstooth, and I'm burning the houndstooth later."

"I like—" Percy trailed off at the withering look she shot him. "You didn't say how you know so much about Muggles."

Audrey was busy picking out a shirt, but she glanced at him over her shoulder. "Oh. Well, it's what I did before the war got in the way. I worked for a foundation that helped Squibs transition into Muggle life."

"So you became a bit of an expert."

"Something like that." She handed him a blue shirt. "Gap first, I think."

"My dad would love that," Percy said absently. "If I had a-a friend who was a Muggle expert."

"I've met your dad, actually."

Percy's fingers fumbled over the buttons of his shirt. "You did?"

"I interviewed him when I first started my research on Muggle society."

Hanging his head, Percy squashed the spurt of homesickness that erupted in his chest. It was a ridiculous feeling all these years later. Especially for a man Percy saw nearly every day. The silence stretched tight across the room, but Percy couldn't quite find the words that would return things to normal.

"He was very generous with his time and knowledge," Audrey whispered. She stood before him, gazing into his face with wide-eyed compassion. Brushing his hands aside, she finished doing up the buttons of his shirt, then smoothed the shoulders. "He was happy to share his passion with someone who was genuinely interested. When I saw him at Bill and Fleur's wedding, your dad cornered me, and we spent thirty minutes discussing aeroplanes."

"He's brilliant, my dad," Percy admitted, a sheepish grin grew on his face. "I mean eccentric, obviously, but brilliant."

"My father is brilliant but eccentric, too, but there is not a generous bone in his body."

When Percy looked into Audrey's big, brown eyes he saw the truth of her statement reflected there. For one moment only, he could see a sad and lonely child. Instinctively, Percy wanted to reach out and sooth away all of Audrey's hurts, but as quickly as it appeared, it was gone again. Audrey turned away from him, drifting to the bedroom door where she stopped and looked at Percy.

"The shops will be open soon," she said. "Shall we?"

Percy cleared his throat. "Yes, let's."

oOo

Her poor, bewildered ginger was standing in the middle of Debenhams's household department looking around with slack-jawed amazement at the small appliances across the aisle. Shiny chrome toasters and black food processors winked and sparkled under the florescent lights, but the colorful standing mixers seemed to have Percy transfixed. As Audrey had led Percy from the Underground down Oxford Street, she could see the curiosity glowing in his eyes, but he was much too dignified to give into his desire to gawk. Mostly.

Once inside Gap, Percy had lost some of his amazement as Audrey had shoved him inside a try-on room with a stack of jeans. She considered that venture a success. He'd come away with a pair of jeans (which she insisted he wear out of the store) and two pairs of khakis. They agreed that khakis were much more Percy's style, although she had to insist on flat front and not pleated. That man needed a dresser.

From her vantage point behind a stack of comforters in clear plastic bags, Audrey had a good view of Percy's arse in his new jeans. It was a nice view indeed. He might be a bit gangly, but Percy had a nice, taught arse.

"Alright, I think this one is just your style," Audrey announced and hefted up a paisley comforter in tones of chocolate brown, hunter green, and burnt orange.

Percy looked over, his brow furrowed. "That's not bed sheets."

"Well, no, but I've found some very nice matching sheets." Audrey thrust the comforter into Percy's arms and picked up the coordinating plaid sheets. "See?"

"I thought we were just buying bed sheets, not redecorating."

Audrey cocked her head to one side. "Percy."

"What?" His eyes went round behind his glasses, he looked utterly confused.

"Your bedspread is brown."

"This," he said and shook the comforter, "is brown."

"It's paisley and very pretty, but still masculine. I liked that blue floral over there if you'd prefer."

Percy groaned, a look of utter defeat on his face. "But you're not my girlfriend, right?"

Picking up another package of sheets (hunter green this time), Audrey sauntered over to Percy with a smirk. "Right, but that doesn't mean we can't break these sheets in together."

The corners of Percy's mouth twitched, but he still looked disgruntled. Audrey couldn't explain it, but ever since their first date she had wanted to change his world up a bit. There was something sad to her about his mud-colored couch and drab bedding and lack of any personal touches. Honestly, Audrey couldn't help thinking that maybe it was a kind of self-punishment on Percy's part. He'd thrown himself into his work, cut himself off from his family and removed any speck of himself from the place in which he lived.

Standing on tiptoe, Audrey pressed a kiss into Percy's freckled cheek before wandering off to find the check-out counter.

"Oi, Audrey!"

Audrey looked over her shoulder in surprise at Percy's exclamation. He wore a mischievous smile.

"If I have to buy all this," he said and lifted the comforter for emphasis, "can I get one of those, too?" He pointed at an orange standing mixer.

"Percy, do you even know what that is?"

"Not exactly, no."

"And how would you run it? Your building is, um…it has no…." Blast it, he lived in a wizarding building with no electricity, but Audrey couldn't announce that in a Muggle department store, could she?

"I'd come up with something. I'm very resourceful, you know."

Audrey smirked. "I know, but answer me this: why do you want it?"

Percy looked from her to the standing mixer and back again. "Bloody hell, I've just turned into my father, haven't I?"

"Come along, Arthur," Audrey said with a giggle and wound around the displays to the nearest shop girl.

Chapter 21

Fleur was wrapped in five layers of clothing: camisole, blouse, woolen jumper, sturdy coat, and finally a scarf and hat. Autumn, in her beautiful display of colors and biting winds, was in full effect. Skipping down the steps into the back garden, Fleur walked between the four raised beds already alive with vegetation under a Shield charm. That was Audrey's innovation: a modified Shield charm that was permanent and porous. Rain could pass through, and the sun's rays were captured inside its shimmering bubble to create a greenhouse effect. Fleur had added a bit of Veela magic to force the seeds to sprout, which were now strong, healthy young plants. In less than a week she would be able to take cuttings for the first of the potions.

Kneeling down beside one bed, Fleur inspected a puffapod plant. This one might be ready in just a day or two. On the first day after the attack, now weeks past, Fleur had thrown herself into her magical garden. She had come down to her kitchen with Bill's hollow eyes following her every move. Many times she had despised having a man's eyes on her, but that was the first time she hadn't wanted Bill to look at her. It was plain to Fleur that he was seeing a fragile hothouse flower, not the strong witch he had always known her to be. Fleur knew she could not return to the bank, nor the world outside the safe confines of her home or other similarly protected residences like the Burrow, but that did not mean she had to be idle. Nor did it mean she had to let her husband think she was weak.

Pushing aside the memory of her attack was no small effort, but one she was happy to make. She had no wish to dwell on it, nor to think about what could have happened had George not come along when he did. Instead, Fleur sunk her fingers in the black dirt and thought of the time before Alain, when she thought being a Veela was like being a deer in the forest running free. In those childhood remembrances, Fleur brought forth a magic that was different than the magic she created with her wand. When she cast a spell with her wand with its Veela hair core, it felt as though an electric tingle danced over her skin, but when she used her Veela magic, it was as though warm water filled her heart to be pumped through her veins and back again. The more she purposefully used the magic, the warmer it felt until she was glowing with energy and life.

By the end of that first day, with far more seedlings than she needed sitting in pots around her, Fleur felt almost giddy. She had never exhibited that kind of control over her Veela magic before—however meager that magic may be. Not that she cared about the power. Fleur had no wish to manipulate other people's emotions or attract men for her own purposes, and she certainly did not wish to turn into a bird, but for the first time since she was a young girl, Fleur had felt a part of nature. It had been just as her maman had always said: Veela were the flora and the fauna, the birds and the bees, the world all around. And Fleur had felt that deep inside of herself.

That night, Fleur had met Bill at the door with a secret smile and not much else. For a few days after that, it felt as though their lives would fall into something approaching a normal rhythm. Bill left for work while Fleur filled her days with her garden. Night came, and she oversaw the transfer of Muggle-born refugees to the Continent with a renewed vigor, as if she were thwarting the men who had attacked her by snatching their prey from their jaws. Then came the news about Ginny and the Sword of Gryffindor.

Molly had flown into a rare rage.

"What was she thinking? We live in dangerous times, what good is there in courting death!"

"At least she's doing something to fight this war," Fred said.

"All we've been doing lately is twiddling our thumbs and casting a few wards over Muggle buildings," George chimed in.

Molly narrowed her eyes on the twins, and pointing her finger like a wand, demanded, "Did you have something to do with this? Did you somehow encourage your sister to take on this-this suicide mission?"

"What?" Fred yelped.

"No!" George denied.

Meanwhile, Arthur stared at the letter in his hands as if it were in fact an obituary. It seemed rather obvious to Fleur why Ginny had done something so risky: she had done it for Harry. Ginny loved Harry, Fleur would not be the one to say the other girl was too young for such things. What woman did not do stupid things for the man she loved? That was the moment Fleur had looked at Bill, but he had not been looking at her.

No, he was looking at nothing though his eyes were wide open. Fleur's heart lurched into her throat as she looked at her husband. He was quiet, but there was no peace in his quietness. His eyes were shuttered, his damaged mouth flat. He had crawled inside himself.

That horrible quietness had lingered even as they lie in bed together that night, and had remained the next morning. After a few days, things returned to normal, but Bill's eyes were still shuttered. She could read nothing there except numbness. It left such grief in Fleur's own heart, and that feeling of helplessness returned. What good was it to force a seed to sprout when she could not heal her husband's heart?

Fleur stood up and brushed dirt from her trousers. Rain would be coming in soon. The only good thing Fleur could say about England's horrid climate was that there was little need to water her garden. She turned toward the kitchen door when she thought she saw something move around the corner of the cottage. She whipped out her wand and pointed it in the direction of the house.

"Who is zere?" she demanded in a loud, clear voice. "Show yourself!"

"Don't hex me. I need your assistance."

oOo

"Why do I feel like I'm studying for an exam all over again?" Oliver asked as he handed Butterbeers to first Percy, and then Audrey.

"Because others are dutifully revising while your mind is on the pitch?" Percy replied as he attempted to flip the egg without breaking the yolk. His mum always made it look so easy.

"There's no rhyme or reason to this list," Audrey said. She was going over the report from the Ministry for the third time, trying to figure out the mystery of Liam Williamson.

"Yes, there is," Percy said quietly. "If you know what to look for."

Just that morning, he had received the list of Muggle-borns imprisoned in Azkaban. Percy unrolled the parchment while sitting at his desk, a sickening knot forming in his stomach as he noted the length of it. Eighty-nine. That was the number of Muggle-borns imprisoned since August. Eighty-nine. The Order of Mercy had rescued half that number. For a moment, Percy stared at the list, feeling utterly lost and close to tears. He had known such triumph every time a Muggle-born was sent to safety, but it wasn't enough. It would never be enough. White-hot rage evaporated his tears. He stared at the Minister's office door, the thoughts in his head turning over and over again. There must be something more they could do. Recruit more members? Disrupt prison transfers? For a mad moment that idea took hold. Percy requested a review of prison transfer protocol, but he didn't need to see that report to know the idea wasn't viable. There were too few members in the Order of Mercy to pull off a job that large, and even if they could, it would leave them exposed. And so, with a heavy heart, Percy resigned himself to the fact that the Order of Mercy would only ever be able to do so much.

Percy had re-rolled the report and placed it in his desk to be smuggled out of the Ministry later. He had personally gone over the list a half dozen times himself before Audrey and Oliver turned up at Percy's flat for supper. Audrey took over the job of combing through it as Percy attempted to make eggs and bacon. A meal that Oliver had cheerfully termed "breakfast for dinner."

Audrey's brow furrowed as she looked at the list again, saying, "I recognize some of these name. Like Dirk Cresswell." She pointed at the name. "Friends of my parents."

There was a pause. Percy looked up from frying the egg to stare at Audrey who was no longer looking at the parchment, but seemed to be looking inward as she puzzled out the list. She was right, the list did seem completely random. There were not many common denominators among those called before the Commission other than they were all Muggle-born. Otherwise, there was seemingly no organizational pattern, not age or surname or even height and weight. No, the pattern was much more nebulous and insidious. A little wrinkle formed between Audrey's brows, her mouth puckered. It was fascinating, really, to watch Audrey solve a problem. She truly was brilliant, but Percy suspected that he had only caught a small glimpse of its depth.

"You're burning your egg, there," Oliver muttered close to Percy's ear, and nudged the thinner man with his elbow.

"Oh! Blast!" Percy jerked the egg out of the pan too hard, and it went flying across the galley kitchen to plop onto the floor.

Heat flooded Percy's face as he stared at the egg lying pathetically on the floor, yolk spreading out from under it. Silence filled the kitchen, stretching, it seemed to Percy, for hours. He felt frozen, cursed, by his own ineptitude, but then something magical happened: Audrey laughed.

"I think you've killed it, Gryffindor," she said, and her laugh rang out loudly, louder than it should for such a small witch. Hands on her hips, she bent over the egg as if examining a crime scene. When she looked up again, her wide smile speared Percy in the chest. "Death by floor, I'd say."

Percy snorted. Even more color flooded into his face, and he clamped a hand over his mouth.

"Elegant," Oliver laughed, and gave Percy a little shove.

Audrey nearly fell into Percy's arms, she was laughing so hard. That bubble of happiness formed in Percy's chest as he gazed into her smiling face. A tentative smile formed on his own mouth, it felt fragile and undergrown, but nice. Like the beginning of something. And then his own quiet, unsure laugh joined in with Audrey's loud, joyous guffaw and Oliver's deep chuckle, and it was like a new spell had been cast in the kitchen.

The bubble grew in Percy's chest, and he laughed louder, wrapping his arms around Audrey. She snuggled into him, her body vibrating with laughter. Kissing the top of her head, the smile refusing to leave his face, Percy reminded himself that Audrey wasn't his girlfriend, but he hoped he was getting under her skin as thoroughly as she was under his. He wasn't sure he had ever desired anything as much as he wanted to hear Audrey's laugh whenever he wanted.

With a swish of his wand, Oliver vanished the egg. "Alright, you two, out of the kitchen before all this lovey dovey-ness kills my appetite. I'll handle dinner since flipping an egg seems to be more than you can manage."

"I can flip an egg," Percy argued.

"I've Vanished the evidence otherwise," Oliver replied. "You two go be brilliant somewhere else, and figure out what to do about this Auror… Although, Fergus always liked Williamson. I don't think he's a bad guy."

"Being somebody's drinking buddy doesn't qualify a person for the job of spy within the government," Percy argued. This was not the first time he and Oliver had discussed Liam Williamson. Oliver knew the Auror through his brother Fergus, and while Percy trusted Oliver's judgment, he was hesitant to place his faith in somebody merely on Oliver's gut feeling. Although, Percy wished he could believe in his instincts as readily as Oliver did, but the ginger wizard was simply not built that way.

Oliver shrugged and waved them out of the kitchen. In the sitting room, Audrey flopped onto the sofa. It was currently blue and white stripes. She placed a new Color Changing charm on the normally brown cushions every time she visited. Apparently, she couldn't decide what looked best in Percy's otherwise drab flat.

Percy walked to Audrey and sat very carefully next to her on the sofa. "Have you figured it out yet?"

She held the parchment up, her brow furrowed. "Well, take Mr. Cresswell, for instance, he holds a very important position at the Ministry, doesn't he? And yes, my arsehole brother-in-law sold—"

"Wait! Runcorn is…." Percy looked at Audrey's stricken expression, and couldn't continue. He cleared his throat. "Well, our great-auntie Muriel is a horrible dragon. We all have nasty relatives, don't we?"

A small smile touched the corner of Audrey's mouth. "Well, regardless of Albert being a loathsome toadstool, the Commission was still eager to get their hands on Mr. Cresswell, weren't they? And look here, Samantha Eddington—"

"Is Head of the Committee of Experimental Charms," Percy finished.

"Right. My brother, Brian, works under her. And this is Carol March, a friend of my mothers. I didn't even know Mrs. March was Muggle-born, and the Marchs are not one of the pureblood families, but her son is Edmund March…."

"Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation."

"So…so, many of these people are in prestigious or powerful positions." Audrey bowed her head, and Percy knew that she had worked it out.

"Or are related to a half-blood that is," he added.

If it hadn't been for Catriona Wood, maybe Percy wouldn't have seen it either. After all, they'd always assumed that Catriona was being dragged before the Commission as a warning to the Woods. Others were being called before the Commission because he or she was a standout in their own right. By stripping the powerful or exceptional of their influence, the Ministry had the double benefit of erasing the idea of Muggle-born excellence and eliminating potentially potent enemies all the while sending out a message to the general public that no one was safe. That meant that somewhere amongst those eight-nine names was a link to Liam Williamson, a way to hold him under the thumb of the Ministry.

"Have you found anyone you think might be related to Williamson?" Percy asked.

Audrey pointed at a name on the list. "Eleanor Masters-Williamson."

Percy paled. His eyes must have passed over that name so many times without it registering. "His-his wife?"

"I don't think so," Audrey said and shook her head. "Liam Williamson was Fergus Wood's drinking buddy, remember? They would chat up witches together, so I think he must be single…. Well, I suppose he could be a dick."

Percy smiled faintly, but sobered when the truth dawned on him. "Eleanor Williamson is his mother, isn't she?"

"That's my guess," Audrey said quietly and hung her head, hiding her face behind a curtain of hair.

A heavy, quiet sadness settled into Percy's chest. He thought of Williamson's anger when Percy had pushed for his reasons for helping the Order of Mercy, but it hadn't been anger at all. It was sorrow with a good dose of pride as a shield against other people's pity. Percy understood those emotions quite well. Growing up, his parents had rarely spoken of their blood status, but when they did, it had been to dismiss it as inconsequential. Being a pureblood was just another characteristic to ascribe to a person, the same as being ginger. Now, however, Percy was very glad that his family were purebloods, glad that his best mate and Audrey were as well. It was a relief—an awful, unworthy relief—to know that the people he loved couldn't be used against him the way Liam Williamson's mum was being used against him.

"Supper is served!" Oliver announced as he Levitated three plates to the newly-cleared-off dinner table.

"You are very domesticated, Ollie," Percy said, glad for the break in the mood.

"If you took better care of yourself, you'd know how to properly fry an egg," Oliver retorted.

"You two are disturbingly like an old married couple," Audrey said. She stood and offered her hand to Percy with a smile. "C'mon, let's eat and worry about the war on full stomachs."

That heavy sadness eased in Percy's chest as he placed his hand in Audrey's. Instead, there was a lightness, like a bird taking wing.

oOo

Bill stumbled through the backdoor, exhaustion and worry hanging heavily off of him. It was late, well after the sun had sunk into the horizon. The sliver of moonlight had been obscured by clouds on his walk from the Apparition point, blustery winds tugging at his robes and hair. The cottage with its warm, glowing lights looked like a safe haven sitting on the rise of the cliff. Finding the kitchen empty gave him a twinge of disappointment, but Bill could hear the clatter of footsteps coming from the stairs, then Fleur rounded the corner coming to a halt in the doorway.

"Love, I'm sorry for the cryptic message," Bill said before Fleur could talk. He had sent a Patronus at the end of the day saying he was going to the Burrow, knowing she would understand he meant he was going to an Order meeting. "It's been a hell of a day. Kingsley's gone missing, attacked by Snatchers. We don't—"

"I know," Fleur said in a rush.

Bill stopped and looked at her more closely. Every line of her body was stiff from her mouth to her shoulders to her knees. There wasn't anything rigid about Fleur's body. She was slim, but her curves, the way she walked, flowed like waves onto the beach. Bill felt his own body tighten, ready to absorb whatever would come next.

"But how…" he managed to say, the words felt as though they were wrestled from his throat.

"Come."

Setting his satchel on the table, Bill followed Fleur up the stairs in silence. At the spare bedroom, Fleur opened the door to reveal a shirtless Kingsley Shacklebolt sitting on the bed, bandaged and haggard. Despite this, Kingsley kept his usual demeanor of calm assurance, and Bill was glad for that. It acted as a counterbalance to the raw emotions twisting inside of his own chest. The bald black man looked at the married couple with placid green eyes, despite the serious expression he wore on his face.

"Kingsley?" Bill gasped. He looked at Fleur, questions and worry warring in his eyes.

"I could not send you a Patronus," Fleur blurted, reaching out to touch his arm.

"I asked her not to, Bill," Kingsley said, his deep voice rolling through the room. "I was afraid it would be seen or overheard by the wrong people. I didn't want any of you in unnecessary danger."

Bill took a deep breath, then he looked at Fleur, taking her hand that was clenched into a fist. At his touch, her fingers unfurled and slid between his own. "I've just come from the Burrow—"

"Who met there?" Kingsley asked. "Not the whole Order, I hope?"

"Just Dad, Remus, and me," Bill replied. His voice took on a precise tone, at attention. "We reckoned there was a good chance we were being followed, and didn't want too many Order members in one place. Meanwhile, the rest of us have been out scouring every corner of England and Scotland for you."

"Excellent. I suspect, from now on, we should limit our meetings to small gatherings. If you think that the Burrow is secure, feel free to send Arthur a Patronus telling him to call off the search."

Bill nodded his head once, but he didn't move from his spot by the door. "Forgive me, Kingsley, I'm chuffed to see you alive, but what happened and how did you end up here?"

"Well, that took longer than expected," Kingsley said, and his lips spread into a wide grin that lit up his face like whiz-bangs on New Year's Eve. "You Weasleys are always full of questions. How have none of you ended up in the Aurors' office?"

"Yet," Bill said. The corner of his mouth turned up. "Ron and Ginny seem adept at chasing Dark Wizards."

"Mores the pity," Kingsley agreed. "Perhaps we could have some tea, and I will tell you a story."

The older man inclined his head to Fleur who blinked, then excused herself. After she was gone, Kingsley picked up a white shirt from the bed. One of his arms was heavily bandaged and bound to his chest to keep it immobile, but he struggled to get his free arm into the sleeve. Then he stood there and stared at the strip of skin that was still exposed.

"She's quite something, your wife. She did this to me," Kingsley said and motioned to his bandaged arm. "Then she fixed me up."

Bill laughed. "You must have scared her."

"Managed to escape Snatchers, but I get brought down by a nineteen-year-old girl. It's been a humbling day, I must say."

"She's twenty," Bill said absently and rubbed his chin. "What happened to you?"

Just then, a tea tray floated into the room followed by Fleur. Besides the tea service, Fleur had stacked a half dozen sandwiches and a bowl of grapes onto the tray. There were a few moments where they all made plates and poured tea, arranging themselves about the small room. When everyone had a few satisfying bites of food, Bill looked at Kingsley expectantly.

"Ah, story time," the Auror said, wiping his mouth with a napkin. He sobered, a deep crease forming between his eyebrows. "I was meeting with a regular informant of mine—he'd cornered Mundungus in some corner of Abernathy…"

Bill growled. Mundungus Fletcher, the wretch, had been lying low since the Battle of the Seven Potters. The two-faced thief was still Bill's main suspect as double agent. Somebody must have tipped off the Death Eaters about the plan to move Harry from his aunt and uncle's home in July, and Mad-Eye had died as a result.

Kingsley nodded. "Yes, I would like to have a word or two with Dung myself, but, alas, it's not to be. Before my man could pass on his information, three Snatchers Apparated into the alley declaring they were there to arrest me. I had to battle my way out, and my informant was killed."

They all sat in silence at this news, but then Bill asked, "How did the Snatchers know you were there? And what was your crime?"

"As quick as ever, Bill, I was hoping you would catch that. I'm not sure, in all honesty. However, in the moments before the Snatchers appeared, we had been talking about…about You-Know-Who. I'd said the name—his name…and then, they appeared."

"Odd," Bill murmured. "You obviously think that the two events are connected."

"I do, but I'm not sure how."

"I have a few ideas. Some obscure magic, most often used in the Middle Ages when people were full of superstitions. Let me do a bit of research and get back with you."

"Excellent." Kingsley nodded. "That is one of the reasons I decided to come here. That, and Shell Cottage seems to be the least watched house in the Order. But never fear, I won't be staying long."

"Now you are a fugitive," Fleur said softly.

Kingsley nodded with a tired sigh. "That is unfortunately true."

"You cannot return to your flat, you will have to be on zee run. I can send you to stay wiz my parents."

"I thank you for your kindness, Fleur, but I must decline." Kingsley clutched his hand into a tight fist, the lines of his face took on harsh edges. He was no longer the affable, unflappable leader of the Order of the Phoenix, he was a fierce and immovable warrior. "My place is here as long as there is someone fighting against V-him."

Bill sat forward, his forearms braced on his thighs. "You will need a place to lay low, and Fleur is, as usual, correct, you cannot return to your flat. Stay here, at least for a few days."

"It is with reservations that I accept your offer." Kingsley looked thoughtful, stroking his chin for a moment. "There are things I'll need from my flat to survive my time on the run."

"I imagine the Snatchers will give your place a good tossing."

"Indeed, they've probably already done it. Perhaps in a few days Remus can go by, pick up a few things for me. He seems to have a talent for slipping in and out of a place unnoticed." Kingsley grew quiet for a long moment, his eyes downcast. "There are some mementos there that I'll be sad to lose."

Fleur leaned forward. "Remus, he can retrieve zose as well."

"No." Kingsley shook his head, a sad smile on his face. "The price of war, I reckon, but I still have the memories."

Crossing the room, Fleur bent before the Auror and kissed each cheek. "You will stay here until your arm is mended, I will accept no argument."

"Which will be tomorrow," Kingsley replied with a genuine smile.

"Which will be when I say so."

The deep bass of Kingsley's chuckle filled the room as Fleur excused herself. "Bill Weasley, you are a lucky bastard."

Bill watched his wife disappear around the corner. Didn't he know it.

oOo

"Any word on Shacklebolt's whereabouts?"

Liam Williamson shook his head. "No, but he's made it onto the Top Ten Most Wanted Wizards list."

Meeting in the same ante-chamber in the bowels of the Ministry as they had before, Percy crossed his arms, making no move toward his wand. If he were honest, he still had reservations about Williamson, but he decided to take a chance on him. He'd called for this little meeting, though he didn't really care about Shacklebolt's whereabouts, at least not in any capacity to do with the Order of Mercy. Percy was certain that the Order knew where Shacklebolt was and were keeping him safe, that was enough for Percy. No, this meeting was meant as a signal to Williamson that Percy was willing to work with him.

"How will an arrangement between the two of us work?" Percy asked.

Williamson arched an eyebrow, but made no comment. "No more face-to-face meetings. I'll send you information as I see fit, just as I have in the past."

"And if I need to contact you?"

"I'd prefer that doesn't happen, but if you must, send an Owl addressed to 'Willie' asking to meet at the Bull and Cock with a specific time signed by 'Nancy.' I'll know it means to meet you here."

Percy rolled his eyes at the Nancy bit. It would seem, under better circumstances, that Liam Williamson was a bit of a smartarse. Always a joy.

"'Willie?'" Percy asked.

"It's what Fergus called me," Williamson replied, and rolled his eyes. "Because he was a regular prick, wasn't he?"

Percy actually laughed. "Merlin, he was. Complete bastard."

"So, are we concluded here?"

"I think we are."

Williamson nodded, but then the two wizards stood there staring at each other for a moment. How did one end a clandestine meeting? It was all very awkward.

"Eleanor Masters-Williamson," Percy blurted. "She's your mother?"

The other young man opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Then, simply, one word: "Yes."

"I-I'm sorry."

"Second day of trials. We didn't even know what we were walking into."

Percy nodded. "Do you know how she is?"

"I know she's alive, that's about it." He focused on a spot beyond Percy's shoulder. "I'm not the only one. A great number of Aurors have either been summoned or had a loved one summoned. It's their way of keeping us under their boot. We all know that one false move will land us in Azkaban or the grave—just look at Shacklebolt. Many of my colleagues feel as though their hands are tied."

Chapter 22

Notes:

Fun Fact #1: This is a "not-so-fun" fact for me. The Audrey/Percy scene in this chapter had to be rewritten because I lost the original. Believe me, the original was amazing. This is poor facsimile.

Fun Fact #2: I listen to music while writing and sometimes I find a song that perfectly fits a character or couple or scene. Percy and Audrey have two songs, one that represents each of their POVs in their relationship. Percy's song is Not a Bad Thing by Justin Timberlake. We'll discuss Audrey's song in a few chapters.

Meanwhile, I don't have a song that really represents the essence of Bill and Fleur. The closet I've come is The Luckiest by Ben Folds and How Long Will I Love You by Jon Boden, Sam Sweeney, and Ben Coleman. Both songs are featured in the movie About Time. And yes, that movie does star our very own Bill Weasley, Domhnall Gleeson. However, if you can think of a better selection for this romantic couple, I am open to suggestion.

Fleur watched as Kingsley flexed his injured arm freely and easily. It was past time to admit he was fully healed, and it had been since the day after he first turned up at Shell Cottage, a fact they were both fully aware of. But Fleur had kept the older man in bandages for a few extra days, in part as punishment for scaring her so badly that day. The other side was that she hoped—no matter how unlikely—that he would change his mind about staying in England and seek refuge in France.

"Tomorrow you will be free to leave," Fleur said, and Banished the dressings to the bin. "So, I must ask this: do you know where you will go when you leave here?"

Kingsley smiled at her, the skin around his eyes crinkling. Fleur had not noticed until the last few days that Kingsley was a man given to easy smiles and that it showed in his face. It seemed an odd trait for a man who was one part warrior, one part officer of the law, and one part wizard-of-all-things. Yet, there also seemed to be one part that he kept private, the part that delighted in life with such ease.

"I thank you for your hospitality and healing," Kingsley said, "but you needn't worry about me. I am old enough to take care of myself, and there are more than a few sofas on which I can sleep."

"Bah, I can do better zan zat."

He chuckled. "I'm sure you can."

From the bedside table, Kingsley picked up a gold disc, turning it over in his palm several times. Just that morning, Remus brought Kingsley's belongings from his flat in London. Fleur knew that was the real reason he had humored her about the bandages, it was much easier to strike out on one's own with a few possessions along. With his usual caution, however, Remus had waited nearly a week before attempting to enter the flat. All of the things he retrieved were utilitarian in nature accept that one, the gold disk.

"Zat is très belle," Fleur said.

Kingsley's fingers stilled and he held the object cupped in his palm. "I told myself I wouldn't endanger Remus's life on sentimentality, but I wasn't that strong."

"Men have no understanding of what makes a person strong."

"No?" Kingsley chucked quietly. "You are awfully young to make such declarations."

"What has age to do wiz it? You are zee same as Bill, you zink zat strength is physical or zee ability to endure pain without complaining, but zat is not so."

"Then what is it?"

"Zee ability to put yourself back together again after zee worst has happened."

"Ah."

Kingsley held out the gold disk, and Fleur took it with delicate fingers. Cradling it in her palm, she saw that it was actually a compact. There was an engraving on the top of two hands clasping a heart, but it was as worn as the gold was tarnished from repeated touching. With a flip of a switch that was almost hidden, the top of the compact flipped open to reveal a photograph inside of a woman with black hair, flashing blue eyes and fair skin like cream. Unlike most wizarding photographs, this one did not move, instead it showed the same woman gradually changing and aging from her twenties to her forties and back again. It was beautiful magic of which Fleur had never seen.

"Très exceptionnelle," Fleur whispered. It did not feel right to speak in normal tones of something that was so well loved. "Who is she?"

The corners of Kingsley's mouth grew tight. "Amelia. Amelia Bones. She was killed by Death Eaters more than a year ago now. She would have agreed with you about men and the nature of strength."

"Is she your reason?"

"Hmm, yes, I suppose she is. She believed Dumbledore and Harry from the start, and brought me around on the subject, as she often did. She smoothed my way into the Order, though she was never a member herself—that's not her style." A small smile graced his face. "Amelia was the type to boldly state what she believed and to hell with the rest." He took the disk from Fleur and gazed at the photograph. "She was braver than me."

Fleur laid her hand on his arm. "Who was she….to you?"

Kingsley snapped the disk shut and slipped it into his pocket. "Everything."

There was both pain and love in his statement. How closely those two states of being were linked. How easily one's great love could also bring the greatest pain. In her mind's eye, Fleur saw Bill lying bandaged and insensible in a hospital bed. She had known just a flicker of the pain she could see in Kingsley's eyes, but it was more than she ever wanted to know again.

"I think she would have like you immensely," Kingsley said, and patted her hand that still lie on his arm. "She would have thought you brilliant for what you are doing here."

"Doing?" Fleur echoed and laughed. "Healing fugitive Aurors?"

Suddenly Fleur felt trapped by Kingsley's genial smile and precise stare. "I don't think I'm the only secret Shell Cottage is harboring."

"I am a French woman, non? I am full of secrets."

"Some of them more interesting than others, I should think."

"Zat is zee way of secrets."

"You know, there are rumors that the Order of Phoenix are intercepting Muggle-borns before they are due before the Commission, and sending them into hiding."

The hairs on the back of Fleur's neck stood up, but she fought to remain impassive. "Oh?"

"I rather wish that were true, but I've my own theories."

"You do not zink zese Muggle-born witches and wizards are simply escaping, going on zee run like you plan to do?"

"Perhaps, some of them at least, but I think more of them are being given safe passage by a young girl who is as brilliant as she is beautiful."

"Hmph. Zat is all you know. I am much more brilliant zan I am beautiful."

Kingsley roared with laughter. "If you ever need my help, Fleur, you know how to find me, yes?"

oOo

The sign swinging over his head read "Hancock's Fine Antiques" in red letters on a white background. Inside the quaint window, there was a display of glittering pumpkins and black-hatted witches on broomsticks—or what Muggles thought witches looked like at least. Further inside the dusty, dimly lit shop, Percy was sure the carcasses of countless boyfriends could be found, having all expired of boredom.

"I woke up early on my off day to go antiquing with you?" Percy asked the small witch by his side.

"You need a hall table, some place to set your briefcase when you get home. And perhaps a coatrack," Audrey responded. She was wearing a red and black checked wool coat and stocking cap to ward off the late October cold. "Besides, I've been dying to visit this place. It's owned by a squib that I helped at the agency."

"Shh!" Percy looked around. "Must you speak so loudly when you talk of…of squibs?" He whispered the last part.

"Oh, you are so stuffy." She waved a mittened hand airily.

"And you are in danger of breaking the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy."

She reached up and kissed him. "I like to live dangerously, Gryffindor."

When she stepped away to grab the door handle, Percy snagged the back of her coat and pulled her near. "Let me make sure I understand this. I am required to spend my Saturday in Muggle antique shops with you, but you are still not my girlfriend."

"My, you are much denser than I would have guessed," Audrey teased. "Those are the terms of our agreement."

"Our agreement said nothing of antique shops."

"Never fear, I still plan to hold up my end of the bargain," Audrey said, smirking.

"You'd better after this." He smacked her on the bottom. Audrey giggled, sending him a delightfully scandalized look over her shoulder.

It was with a light feeling that Percy stepped into the shop behind Audrey. The bell above the door tinkled as it was opened, alerting the blond man who sat behind the counter. The man's face broke into a wide smile at the sight of Audrey. As he came around the counter to greet her, Percy considered that the other man could only be described as handsome—and bland. Yes, Percy decided, the man was blandly handsome. Average height, average build, pale, and blue eyed. There were a hundred Englishmen just like him.

Standing in the small shop, the light sensation Percy had experienced evaporated. Under the low ceiling, hemmed in by the warren-like aisles of highboys and tea tables, Percy felt cramped. He feared banging his head on a rafter if he stood up straight or knocking over the bric-a-brac if he reached out his long arms. He was overcome with the feeling of being thirteen again, his hands and feet too large for his gangly body.

Audrey, however, was shining under the attention of the handsome shopkeeper whose arms were around her shoulders in an all-too-familiar way, gushing about how she had helped him start up the shop, and making her laugh loudly. She touched the other man's arm—that was it, just her hand on his sleeve—but it felt like a knife twisting in Percy's gut. The unwelcome heat of a blush swept up his neck and into his face. Percy hated feeling this way. Jealousy was nothing new to him—he had often felt envious of his brothers when he was growing up—and he knew it was an unworthy emotion. It was just that when other men looked at Audrey, Percy wanted to know that it didn't matter because she would still be looking at him, Percy.

"And you must be a Weasley with that red hair."

Percy became aware of the other man's hand being thrust at him.

"Erm, yes. Percy, Percy Weasley."

The man flashed him a devilish glance and a dimpled grin. "Well, Percy Percy Weasley, you are not what I expected."

"No?" Percy's brow furrowed. Had he missed something? Had they been introduced? What was this man's name? Well, Hancock presumably.

The man grabbed Audrey's hands. "Our little Audrey has many wonderful attributes, but her taste in men is abysmal."

"Felix!" Audrey admonished, but she was still smiling.

"It's true, you know it is." This Felix looked at Percy again with a sly smile. "You at least look like you could add two and two together."

"Oh, it wasn't that bad," Audrey said, her cheeks turning pink.

"Oh, but It was." With narrowed eyes, Felix looked Percy over. "You had better make her happy, Weasley."

"Don't be ridiculous," Audrey said, her smile fading away. "Percy's not my boyfriend."

A hollow feeling settled into Percy's chest that was worse than the jealousy. He didn't even have a name for this emotion, but he desperately wanted it to go away.

"And why not?" Felix challenged.

"Because I belong to no man, that's why not," Audrey replied, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Oh," Felix said quietly. His eyes swept over Audrey's face, and his smile faded a bit. "Oh, my silly, frightened, little dummy, there's no harm in belonging to a man."

As if on cue, a compact, dark-haired man came from behind a curtain that hid a backroom or office. Felix glanced at the other man, his expression softening. Suddenly, Percy understood that he had nothing to fear from Felix Hancock.

"If he's the right man," Felix added.

She was hiding behind her hair again. Percy thought that maybe Audrey didn't realize that other people knew she did that. Maybe they didn't, but he did. It always happened in the moments when she felt the most herself, the most exposed, and she didn't want people to see her. Of course, those were the moments when Percy most wanted to look at her. Just to catch a glimpse of the bookish, romantic girl under the layers of loud laughter and bawdy humor was a magic greater than anything Percy had ever created with his wand.

"Come along, meet Phillip," Felix said.

Feeling as though he'd grown into his hands and feet, Percy moved to Audrey's side. Tipping her chin up, Percy gazed into Audrey's eyes, which were still wide with open vulnerability. Her eyes searched his as well. Percy wasn't sure what she was looking for. There was such uncertainty in her gaze. Maybe—he hoped—she was looking for a sign that her heart would be safe with him. Merlin, he wanted that to be true, but more than that, he wanted to be worthy of her trust.

With the tip of one finger, Percy traced her hairline to her ear. She looked away, but when she did, she moved just a fraction nearer to him.

oOo

At the foot of the steps that led into his home, Bill stooped to light the candle inside the jack-o-lantern. It was Halloween, his first as a married man. He wished he could look forward to a nice feast or some drinks with friends, but not this year. If he was lucky, Fleur would wrap up her work early, and they could share a glass of wine over their one, sad jack-o-lantern. Bill wondered briefly what was happening at Hogwarts. Had Hagrid hauled giant pumpkins into the Great Hall? Were there jack-o-lanterns full of sweets and surprises? Bats swooping overhead? Well, one thing was for sure: there would be a bat. A man-sized one with greasy hair and foul temperament.

It was hard for Bill to push those thoughts away. Halloweens at Hogwarts had been some of his happiest memories. While in Egypt, Bill had attended many wild Halloween parties, or spent the night drunkenly carousing in a nightclub, but those memories paled in comparison to Hogwarts's Feasts spent laughing with Charlie, Fergus, and Dougal at the Gryffindor table. Merlin, all Bill wanted to do was make more happy memories, ones he could share with his wife, but the darkness kept crowding in.

He shook himself once, then twice. Blowing out a breath, Bill tipped his head up to gaze at the starry sky overhead. The moon would be full again next week, but now it shone in its silvery and harmless splendor, the stars twinkling in the velvet sky. It was a clear night, something that almost never occurred on Halloween. His mother would call this a small blessing.

Blessing. Blessings. Small blessings. Maybe that was the key. Maybe that was what he needed to hold onto. Like his wife, Fleur, who was inside their home, probably at the butcher's block, manning the effort to save innocent witches and wizards. Brave, brilliant, and beautiful, and she was wild about him for some inexplicable reason.

"What are you doing out here? It is freezing."

Bill looked at Fleur, who stood in the light of the open doorway. "I was just admiring the stars, they're beautiful tonight. Come, see."

"Are you mad? I will freeze," she replied.

One corner of his mouth pulled into a wolfish grin. "I'll keep you warm."

Pulling her cardigan more snuggly around her, Fleur joined him in the garden, her face tipped up to the sky. Her pale hair glowed with the same silvery splendor as the moon. Bill wrapped his arms around her, bringing her body flush against his. For a moment, he became lost in her beauty and forgot about all the things that were not as they ought to be. It was just him and this incredibly strong woman in his arms, and really that was enough to last him a lifetime.

"Zey are magnificent," Fleur murmured, still gazing at the stars.

"I always thought so," Bill replied, still looking at Fleur. The perfect slope of her nose and graceful angle of her jaw, the elegant line of her throat. He bent to nuzzle her neck with his lips, feeling the warmth of her skin, the throb of her pulse.

"Oh, mon Bill, did you call me out here to seduce me, you naughty man?"

"Mm, that does seem like a brilliant idea."

Fleur cupped his face gently in her hands, then kissed the corner of his mouth where the stitches had been. "Happy Halloween," she murmured. She ran the tip of her tongue along his lower lip. "Let us go inside, mon amour."

Bill had his hands under her cardigan, roaming over her hips, and up her sides to cup her breasts through her blouse. He took joy in the happy moan that came from her throat. Her hands gripped his face more roughly, washed down the sides of his neck, then clutched the front of his robes.

"Come inside," she panted, her fingers working the buttons of his shirt.

He was kissing her chest, his hands circling her waist. "Gladly."

"I meant come inside zee house. I am not making love to you on zee porch in zee wintertime."

"It's not winter yet."

"Do not remind me," she grumbled and tugged the tie out of his hair.

When he made no move toward the house, Fleur stepped back. Keeping eye contact, she shook out her hair—Merlin, she knew he loved it when she did that—then her hand went to the top button of her blouse. Never taking her eyes from his, Fleur undid it…and the second one with a slow smile playing across her lips. Bill could just make out the shadow of the lacy camisole she wore beneath her top.

"Come inside, mon Bill."

He wondered what she wore under the camisole. Not one of those lacy bras with the wire and the padding that made her breasts look round and ripe, his brief exploration told him that. Maybe one of those silk bras that was little more than scraps of fabric sewn together? Maybe nothing at all? Only one way to find out.

Grabbing Fleur's hand, Bill tugged her up the steps behind him. He wished he could sweep her off her feet like some romantic hero, but he didn't trust his injured arm to support her slight weight. Focusing on the image of Fleur's naked breasts and not his own inadequacies, Bill successfully pushed the negative thoughts aside. Bill had his hand on the doorknob, when Fleur stiffened.

"What was zat?"

"What was what, love?" He looked over his shoulder to see her furrowed brow.

"I heard a-a crack…like Apparition."

Bill stilled, listening. It was probably just Audrey, although he was pretty sure she made a beeline for Percy's after their nightly adventures concluded. Merlin help him, let it not be the twins. Those two were pesky and damn near impossible to be shot of when they had it in their minds to be pains in the arse. And then Bill heard it, and spiky chills ran down his spine like ice.

"Help!"

It was faint, coming from a great distance, but there was no denying the cry. Bill whipped out his wand, forcing his mind to concentrate on nothing more than his next step: finding the source of the voice. He would not allow himself to consider who it might be, or why the voice sounded so panicked.

Fleur had her wand out, as well. There was no point in telling her to stay behind, so Bill just tore down the steps and along the beach to the Apparition point, sure that Fleur was on his heels. The voice grew louder, still bellowing for help. It was shrill and frightened, grating on Bill's nerves, setting the hairs on the back of his neck on end. He forced himself to think of only what needed to be done, even as Bill's mind careened down paths full of memories of younger brothers and midnight nightmares.

At the bottom of a dune, standing in the silvery light of the nearly-full moon was the tall, lanky figure of his youngest brother. Bill stumbled, staring at the boy with wide eyes. That was him, that was Ron. After all these months of wondering and worrying, Ron was here.

"Ron!" Bill screamed.

Every thought fell away. Bill knew just one thing—he had to get to his brother. Running headlong down the beach, Bill smacked into a shimmering shield, bouncing off it and falling on his arse. He looked around, alert for danger, only to see Fleur, a few yards behind him, holding her wand straight out. Closer to the sea, the wind blew her hair haphazardly around her face which was ashen. Bill couldn't understand what she was doing. He had to get to Ron!

"Ask him a security question," she yelled.

"It's Ron!" Climbing to his feet, Bill looked closer at his baby brother. It was obvious that he was hunched over and cradling one arm against his body. "He's hurt, Fleur, he's hurt."

"Ask him," Fleur commanded.

"It's Ron, just-just let me get to him."

"Ask him a security question!" Fleur screamed.

"I'm Ronald Billius Weasley," Ron said, his voice was like sandpaper, but loud enough to carry. "I'm the youngest son of Arthur and Molly Weasley. In my fourth year I asked you to the Yule Ball…I shouted it…in front of the entire school and nearly died of humiliation. It's why you don't like me."

With a flick of Fleur's wand, the shield disappeared. Bill rushed forward. There were bruises on his brother's face, but it didn't matter. Ronnie was here, stranding right in front of Bill, they could fix everything else. Bill's hands trembled as he placed them on his baby brother's shoulders. Their eyes met.

"Don't tell," Ron rasped.

Then he collapsed into Bill's arms.

Chapter 23

Notes:

Author's Note: One of the many challenges I knew I would face in writing OOM is that I would eventually have to write for Harry, Ron, and Hermione. I normally avoid writing for those characters because they're already so well established, leaving me little room for character building. I was nervous about writing Ron's time at Shell Cottage, but I tried to prepare for it as best I could. I experimented with different writing techniques and re-read the chapters preceding his defection, and after. However, keeptheotherone lent me the best help. She pre-read parts of this section, offering me feedback on his character and state of mind. I am immensely grateful to her for all of her help.

Fleur raced down the sand as she watched Ron collapse in her husband's arms. Bill faltered under the boy's weight as Ron listed limply to the left, going down to one knee, then collapsing onto the beach with the boy in his arms. Fleur could hear Bill yelling his brother's name as if from far away as she sprinted the last few feet. Curling her hands under Ron's shoulders—Merlin, he felt hot even through his clothes—she helped Bill roll the boy onto his back.

"He's burning up," Bill said, running a shaky hand over his brother's sweaty hair over and over.

Fleur tore off her cardigan and transfigured it into a stretcher, hastily done and rough, but it would bear Ron's weight. "I know," she muttered. "We must get him into zee house."

When Bill continued to hover over Ron's body, Fleur pushed him aside, Levitated the boy onto the stretcher, then climbed to her feet. Her mind wanted to race as fast as her heart, but Fleur ruthlessly narrowed her thoughts to one thing: transporting Ron to the house. Once there, with proper light and her potions supply, she could worry about his injuries. And maybe later she could worry about her wild-eyed husband.

"Ron…Ronnie," Bill said, shaking the boy slightly. He jumped back when the stretcher Levitated off the ground. "What are you—"

Fleur did not wait to give Bill an answer. Instead, she trudged up the sand in the direction of the house. Bill fell into step quickly enough, clutching Ron's limp hand and nearly over-setting the stretcher. Near the house, Fleur flicked her wand at the door to fling it open. Inside, she cleared the butcher's block of papers, then expanded its size before laying Ron across it. The boy moaned, his head lolling to the side.

"Ron!" Bill clutched his brother's shoulders, but Ron's eyelids only flickered. "I'm here. Open your eyes."

The first thing that Fleur noticed was that perhaps she should stop thinking of Ron as a boy. He looked like a young man, albeit an underfed, battered young man. Bruises covered part of his face and his knuckles as though he had been in a brawl. More worrisome was the flush of fever under the bruising. Infection, or simple illness? Fleur suspected the former. His right hand was bloodied, but on closer examination, Fleur saw that he was missing his fingernails. A splinching accident, most likely. Fleur Banished his jacket and jumper. Underneath, his pale, freckled skin was stretched tight over bruised and protruding ribs, his left shoulder was purple and dislocated. More evidence of a fight. His right arm showed an older wound that was partially healed. It was as if someone had carved open his arm just above the bicep, scooped out a portion of muscle and tissue, and closed him up again. The skin over the poorly mended wound was red with fingers of infection radiating from the center.

"Oh, Merlin," Bill gasped and clutched Ron to him again.

"Non! Do not move him."

"I should get Mum," Bill said.

Fleur had to admit she liked that idea very much.

"No," came a rasping voice. "No Mum. Don't tell."

Bill looked at his brother. "You're very sick, Ronnie, Mum will make you all better."

"No, please," Ron begged. "Don't tell, Bill, don't tell."

Tears were leaking down Bill's face. He was clutching Ron's hand so tightly that his own knuckles were white. Fleur knew in that moment that no one was going to get Molly. She did not need to hear her husband's whispered promises to his brother to know that. Healing Ron was going to be on her, Fleur, and she had to be her best because nothing else would be acceptable. She could not think of the enormity of the job before her. It was not the injuries that gave Fleur pause—she was sure she could heal Ron—it was the small risk that she was wrong in that belief.

She summoned a bottle of Calming Draught and thrust it into Bill's hand. "Drink zis or get out of my kitchen."

oOo

Bill stood in the threshold of the kitchen, under the effects of the Calming Draught, and watched Fleur work on his youngest brother. Three Healers's textbooks lie open on the counter, vials of potions lined up next to them, and rolls of bandages in an enamel bowl. Fleur had Ron stripped to his pants, a towel over his waist to protect his modesty. He was skinny, even for Ron. As Fleur had taken his clothes off, so many horrible wounds and bruises had been revealed, yet all Bill seemed able to concentrate on was the rack of ribs that poked out of his brother's chest.

"Your fever is coming down," Fleur murmured softly to Ron, one hand on his cheek. The first thing she had done was give him a potion to kill the infection. From where Bill stood, he could see the infected wound had shrunk, the red streaks radiating from the center almost gone.

"Water, p-please," Ron rasped.

With one hand, Fleur gently supported his head, but Ron still grunted in pain. A trickle of water streamed out of Fleur's wand and into Ron's mouth, over his cracked lips and down his freckled chin. When she lay his head down again, Fleur stroked Ron's cheek with the back of her fingers.

"You are on zee mend, I zink you say."

"Cheers."

"Tomorrow, I zink I will give you a small amount of Skele-Gro, but tonight I want you to rest." Ron grimaced, and Fleur laughed. Then she placed her hand on the side of his recently healed face and bent over him so that he had to look at her. "Before zat can happen, I need you to answer some questions."

Ron nodded.

"Harry and Hermione," Fleur said, her voice catching in her throat.

Pushing away from the doorjamb, Bill stood at attention awaiting the answer.

"Zey are alive, no?"

"No…. I mean yes. They are alive."

"Are zey captured?"

Silence stretched out, then Ron shook his head. "No."

So much anguish was crammed into that one small syllable, yet Bill knew a sense of relief. Harry and Hermione were alive and safe, that was something, but for the first time Bill wondered how the three of them had come to be separated. In the confusing wave of relief that crashed over him at seeing Ron, Bill had lost track of all other practicalities. He looked at Fleur, awash in shame for the way he had acted. When had he ever lost his composure like that? He was Bill Weasley: Head Boy, Curse Breaker, unflappable eldest son of Arthur and Molly. He had gone to pieces. What was wrong with him?

Fleur looked up, offering him a gentle smile, then beckoning Bill closer. "You brother will take you upstairs," she said to Ron. "I will fix you bouillon and tea."

"I think I'd rather have a bacon sandwich," Ron muttered.

"Tomorrow, we shall see."

"Are you ready?" Bill asked, clutching one of Ron's hands.

"He needs to rest," Fleur said, an edge of steel to her words.

"You hear that?" Bill asked Ron, then smirked. "Time for ickle Ronniekins to go night-night."

"Shut it, you bloody big prat," Ron said without heat. He glanced at Fleur, then his towel-draped waist, and his ears turned bright red. "Um, Bill…."

"You do know that she's the one who stripped your clothes off, right?"

Ron's face matched his ears. "I was delirious then."

Bill decided to take pity on the kid and removed his outer robes and put them around Ron's shoulders. They grasped each other's forearms so that Ron could leverage himself into a sitting position. Once accomplished, Ron swayed slightly, and clutched the edge of the butcher's block to keep from toppling over.

"You alright there?" Bill asked softly, placing a steadying hand on Ron's upper arm. "Tell me honestly, do you think you can make it up the stairs, or should I Levitate you?"

The question was meant in all sincerity, but Bill had no doubt that Ron would take offense. Sure enough, the kid scowled at him, but Bill's face remained impassive. He hadn't spent most of his childhood helping with the younger kids without learning how best to deal with each of his siblings. For instance, he knew that the only way to get Ginny to do something was to be more stubborn than she was, but Ron was more sensitive. Taking the mickey would only alienate him, but showing too much affection would embarrass him. It was always a careful balancing act with Ron.

Finally, Ron's shoulders sagged. "I can do it, but maybe I could use some help."

Careful to keep Ron's weight on his good side, Bill helped the kid slide off the butcher's block. It took a moment for Ron to steady himself, but then they began the slow trek up the stairs to the spare bedroom. By the time the two reached the second floor, they were both covered in sweat. After that, it was a quick shuffle to the room only recently vacated by Kingsley Shacklebolt. Once inside, Bill was as glad to dump his brother into bed as Ron was to lie down.

"You're heavier than you look," Bill panted, collapsing in a nearby chair.

Ron mumbled something into his pillow that sounded like "decrepit old man."

"I'll get you a pair of pajamas." But Bill didn't move from where he was sprawled in the chair.

"Hey, Bill," Ron said after a moment. His voice was deeper, but in the darkness of the room, Bill was reminded of the kid who used to come into his big brother's bedroom at night afraid of the spiders in the rafters.

"What's wrong, Ronnie?"

"Don't tell Mum and Dad…or anybody that I'm here, yeah?"

The note of the last word was so uncertain, as if he were asking too much. Maybe he was. Didn't Mum and Dad deserve to know where their child was and that he was safe if not exactly well? But as Bill looked through the darkness at the silhouette on the bed, he realized that Ron had come to Shell Cottage when he was in trouble, not the Burrow. Ron was placing his trust in him, Bill, for some reason, and Bill couldn't let him down, even if that meant keeping a secret from his parents. It certainly wouldn't be the first, although maybe it was the guiltiest.

"I'm not going to pretend that I'm easy with this," Bill said, "but yeah, I'll keep your secret…for a price. When you're strong enough, I am going to want some answers."

Ron was quiet and still on the bed for a long time, but finally he said, "I'll tell you what I can."

Well, that didn't sound promising. Bill swiped his hand down his face, then hissed as his fingers tore at the half-healed wounds there. The effects of the calming draught must be wearing off because Bill was beginning to feel jumpy and agitated. He pointed his wand at the hearth, and a fire roared to life. Ron grunted something as Bill excused himself from the room to fetch some pajama pants and a t-shirt. When he returned, Ron was already asleep so Bill left the items on the chair.

Before leaving the room, Bill pulled the coverlet over his brother. It was past midnight, which meant that it was the first of November. Ron had officially been of age for nine months. All through this blighted night, Bill had been thinking of Ron as his kid brother, but Ron wasn't a kid. Not by age, and certainly not by experience. When Bill looked at the mop of overgrown red hair and the sunken, freckled cheeks, he wanted to see a child, the same sweet boy who would ask for a bedtime story from his eldest brother as if maybe he wasn't wanted around. Who Bill did see was a young man who had gone to war much too early. At seventeen, Bill had been Head Boy at Hogwarts, he'd had a girlfriend whose chief attraction was that she went all the way, he had been planning for a future that had seemed exciting for all of its limitless possibilities. Ten years later, Ron was spending his seventeenth year on the run from Death Eaters, doing who-knew-what to help defeat the Darkest wizard in memory. It hardly seemed fair.

"He is asleep?" Fleur was standing in the doorway carrying a tray topped with a steaming bowl of bouillon, a teapot, and matching cup.

"Yes," Bill whispered.

"I will just put a warming charm on zis, in case he wakes in zee night."

She crossed to the small bureau and set the tray on top, then checked on Ron one more time before drawing Bill out of the room. In the dim light of the landing, Fleur wrapped her arms around his chest and stared up at him. Bill couldn't imagine what she saw in his eyes at that moment. He felt old in a way that had little to do with age and everything to do with his own brokenness. His body was torn to shreds, his mind and emotions were wont to betray him, like they had on the beach when he first saw Ron. Fleur had known exactly what to do, while he had fallen apart. Again he wondered, what was wrong with him?

"You were amazing tonight," Bill murmured.

Fleur shrugged, her cheeks turning pink. "I simply did what I had to do."

Bill tucked his chin down. He hadn't done what he needed to do, he'd given into panic. Shame squirmed in the pit of his stomach, and he didn't want Fleur to see that reflected in his eyes.

"I have not always known what to do," she said quietly, burrowing into his chest. "I did not know what to do in zee Black Lake, and I zought my sister would die because of my incompetence."

Closing his eyes, Bill tried to hear what she was telling him. Everybody had week moments, even him—capable, cool-headed Bill Weasley. He knew she was right, he could think of a dozen times when he'd panicked, but that didn't alleviate the feeling of brokenness that had been growing inside of him and now lie bare.

"I think I'm going to take a walk on the beach," he said and gently moved her away from him.

"I will get a cape and come wiz you."

Bill shook his head. "It's cold out there, love, stay inside where it's warm." When it looked like she would argue, Bill added, "Besides, Ron might wake, and he'll need you."

With a kiss to the top of her head, Bill started down the stairs. He could feel Fleur's eyes on his back with every step.

oOo

At the soft knock on the stillroom door, Fleur turned from her cauldron to see her brother-in-law standing on the threshold. Ron was very skinny and dirty in Bill's old pajamas, with ginger hair sticking out in several places and bare feet, but his coloring did look improved from the previous night. Fleur suppressed the urge to reach out and feel his forehead, sure that such an action would leave both of them feeling embarrassed.

"Bonjour," she said, and set aside her paring knife.

Ron ducked his head. "So you make potions here? This is a damn sight better than the dungeon at Hogwarts."

"Zat is what Bill says, too."

"What time is it?"

"Half-past noon. I zought maybe you would sleep zee day away." He did not say anything, just scuffed his toe on the hardwood floor, so Fleur spoke again, "Are you hungry?"

Ron nodded without looking at her, so Fleur led him to the kitchen. After he was seated on a stool at her butcher's block, she set a bowl of beef bouillon and a cup of weak tea before him. Ron pulled a face at the sight of his meager meal.

"I know you were hoping for bacon sandwiches," Fleur said. "But you have been very ill, and it looks like you have not had a meal in some time. I zink it best to begin slowly."

And he did. Ron ate the entire bowl with painstaking slowness. While he ate, Fleur watched him, noting the hunched shoulders, the worried knot between his brows. The misery was coming off of him in waves. Fleur had to admit that she was very curious to know how Ron came to be at Shell Cottage without Harry and Hermione—very curious and very worried—but she would not ask. That conversation was for Bill to have with Ron, she would have to content herself with knowing that Harry and Hermione were alive and free.

"Cheers," Ron said, pushing the bowl away when he finished. "And thanks for fixing me up. I didn't know you could do that." He frowned and added, "Didn't know you could cook either."

"What did you zink I did?" Fleur asked with a small laugh.

Ron's ears turned red.

"Oh, I see. You zought my sole purpose was to look pretty, oui?"

His eyes flickered almost to her face, then away before he mumbled something unintelligible. Not that what he said mattered in the least, Fleur was all too accustomed to being underestimated. Men, women, they were all the same. They saw the beauty and assumed Fleur to be stupid or lazy or useless. It was why she entered her name in the Goblet of Fire, to make people take her seriously.

"Did you imagine my existence was purely ornamental?" she asked, thrusting out her chin.

Ron pulled a face. "No…just that you wouldn't know…useful stuff."

"If I had not worked so hard to heal you, I zink I might hex you."

Ron looked at her. "I'd probably deserve it."

Another wave of misery rolled off of Ron. The emotion was so strong that Fleur could feel it tugging at her own insides, almost like meeting a Dementor. It was tempting to wonder what could cause such acute melancholy, but Fleur resisted. She did not think it would serve either of them well for her to go down that path. Just as if she were fighting off a Dementor attack, Fleur concentrated on happy thoughts to center herself.

"You are a good person, why would you deserve a hexing?" Fleur asked.

Ron did not respond, he just looked away.

"Would you like to shower, or would you like to sleep some more?"

"A-a shower sounds like just about the best thing in the world, except for maybe a bacon sandwich." His brows pinched together. "What's the date?"

"It is the first of November."

"I haven't had a proper shower since September," Ron said, then shivered. "Lakes are cold."

"Well, zen let me do something useful and show you where zee shower is."

She provided Ron with some of Bill's clothes then showed him the bathroom. Once Ron was settled, Fleur returned to her cauldron in the stillroom. That morning, she had sent messages to the Order of Mercy telling them that all operations were suspended until further notice. After a quick conversation with Bill over breakfast, they had agreed that having anybody to Shell Cottage put Ron at too much risk. However, if she could not operate the Order of Mercy, she could at least stock up on potions. Ron was her second serious patient, but she feared there would be more in time. She looked up at a dark purple vial sitting on the shelf. Her eyes were often drawn to that particular vial: Wolfsbane Potion. In a little more than a week, her potion making skills would be put to the test.

Chapter 24

To all—

Order of Mercy operations are temporarily suspended. Await further instruction.

-F

Percy frowned at his notepad before flipping it shut and stuffing it into his shirt pocket. With great care, he stirred the vegetables on the stove. He was getting the hang of this cooking stuff. It made him wonder why he hadn't learned sooner. He could have saved himself countless bouts of indigestion by eating at home rather than at the Ministry.

"Did you see this?" Audrey asked, appearing in the kitchen with notepad in hand.

"I did," Percy replied and summoned two plates from the cabinet. "Neither Fleur nor Bill hinted at anything going on whilst you visited?"

"They never tell me anything Order related." She walked over to the stove. "That smells good."

"I hope so, I followed the recipe exactly." He scooted a piece of zucchini across the pan, grimacing when it plastered itself to the bottom. "I do wish I could figure out the trick of keeping them from sticking, however. Did you find the Puddlemere game on the wireless?"

"Yes, they are singing 'God Save the Ministry' even as we speak, then it will be kick off. How's Oliver like being starting Keeper?"

Percy spooned helpings onto each plate. "War's on, nothing's as it should be, not even Quidditch and Oliver Wood."

The truth was that Ollie was miserable. Puddlemere's former Keeper had been the great Nigel Sedgewick, a man in his early thirties and already Hall of Fame worthy. He was also a Muggle-born. Sedgewick had been one of the first hauled in front of the Commission, about the same time Katie and Catriona left for the Continent actually. The man—a husband and father of two—had been sent to Azkaban. For Oliver, taking Sedgewick's place was like a perversion of his lifelong dream. Once again, the war had changed everything, even something as simple as the love of Quidditch.

"Come," Percy said as he handed Audrey her plate. "Let's eat."

oOo

In the lounge, spread out in the chair before the chessboard, Ron sat staring into the fire. He was pale, his freckles standing out sharply against his skin, his red hair shaggy and overlong, his posture defeated. After a nearly sleepless night, Bill had risen early that morning with a burning need to know what had brought his youngest brother to Shell Cottage. Harry and Hermione were alive, they were free, yet Ron had been separated from them somehow. By the slump of his shoulders, Bill would guess that whatever brought Ron to his doorstep was a failure that he held himself accountable for.

"I see Fleur has pawned off all of my most worn clothes on you," Bill said, striving for a light tone. He strolled into the room with one hand in his pocket and sat in the chair opposite Ron's, the chessboard between them. "She's been nagging me to get rid of that old Weird Sisters t-shirt since we first met."

Ron looked at the shirt and shrugged. "She's starving me, Bill. It's been broth and weak tea all bloody day."

"Maybe tomorrow you can graduate to bread with butter."

Ron grunted something inarticulate.

Bill looked at the chessboard then moved the pawn. As soon as he'd walked in the door after work, he saw Fleur in the kitchen and grilled her over Ron. Bill was more than a little relieved to hear that Ron was on the mend, that he was up and about the last few hours. Yet, the elder brother was alarmed when Fleur described the kind of misery she could sense in Ron. While Bill couldn't claim his wife's sensitivities to mood, he could plainly see that Ron was marked by sadness. The way his eyes were dull, his mouth pulled down, the pinched forehead. He looked aged in a way that seventeen-year-olds did not normally look.

"Your move," Bill said and motioned to the board.

Ron looked at the board, staring at it for so long that Bill didn't think his youngest brother would take the bait. Clutching his knees, Bill waited. Ron could never resist an invitation to play chess. More importantly, he would open up over a match. It had been that way since he was a kid. As the pieces moved across the board, Ron would slowly unload his anger or frustration or anxiety. Rarely was he merely sad, that just wasn't Ron. He was a happy kid with a quick temper. He could hold a grudge, but he would come around, usually sooner rather than later. Sadness? No. That's what worried Bill. What could have happened to cause Ron to be so depressed?

It played over and over in Bill's mind, Ron's admittance that Harry and Hermione were alive and free. That knowledge was a raft on a turbulent sea, and Bill clung to it. Yet, there were a million other possibilities that could be just as awful as death or imprisonment. The three of them could have encountered Snatchers or Death Eaters and escaped only to be separated. One of them could be injured. They could have come up against Dementors. The list was endless, and spelled doom for the war against You-Know-Who, not to mention the wreckage that was Ron.

Finally, Ron moved his own pawn. "You haven't won against me since you moved back."

"Doesn't mean it won't happen eventually," Bill said. "Perseverance."

"If I persevere, do you suppose Fleur would give me a bacon sandwich?"

"No, but if you stop whinging I might give you a piece of dry toast."

Ron pulled a face. "Better than mushrooms, I reckon," he muttered.

"What's that?"

Ron shrugged, and made another move. "You haven't told anyone I'm here, have you?"

"I promised I wouldn't," Bill replied evenly as he considered his strategy. "Mind telling me why it's so important I keep this secret?"

Silence. Ron's eyes moved from the chess pieces to stare at his hands folded in his lap. "I-I can't face them."

Bill's first thought was that Ron reminded him of Percy and his idiotic need to prove himself. Then the truth hit Bill right between the eyes. Whatever happened to split Ron from his friends was somehow Ron's own bloody fault. More like Percy than Bill realized! Great Merlin's ghost, he was related to the greatest number of brilliant idiots in all of Wizarding England.

Closing his eyes, making a mental effort not to rub his face, Bill assessed the situation. Alright, he didn't need to worry about Harry and Hermione any more than usual. If the situation wasn't urgent—and in hindsight, he realized it never was, or Ron would have said as much from the start—he no longer needed to extract information from his brother expediently. With that in mind, Bill decided to go about it in a manner that was much more likely to work with Ron: the long, scenic route.

"So," Bill said, after instructing his bishop to move, "it was you three who broke into the Ministry back in September, yeah?"

Ron made a countermove, then nodded. "That was us."

"What on Earth possessed you to do something so mental?"

Ron shrugged. "We needed to get something and—"

"Wait! You can't just say 'We needed to get something.' What did you need to get?"

"Um, well, I can't say exactly…. But without it, we won't be able to defeat You-Know-Who."

Bill let that information sink in. What did they need to defeat You-Know-Who? And it was housed in the Ministry of Magic? Well, that wasn't too surprising. There were all manner of secrets stored in the Ministry, it had a division named the Department of Mysteries after all. Most unsettling of all, however, was the realization that You-Know-Who couldn't just be taken out with a Killing Curse or arrested and brought to justice.

"Alright," Bill said slowly, curling his fingers into his palms. "You do realize that you have numerous insiders at the Ministry who could have helped you out on that?"

"No, Dumbledore said we couldn't tell anyone," Ron insisted, shaking his head. "He said that this was Harry's task."

Bill controlled the impulse to roll his eyes. "But why do you have to do it alone? Surely Harry could have kept all the details to himself and still allowed the Order to help out where we could."

Ron looked away, his ears turning red. Bill wasn't sure if his brother was angry or chagrinned. Over the summer, with the lead up to the wedding, Bill had been aware that Ron, Harry, and Hermione were plotting something and that whatever it was had Mum in a lather. At the time, Bill hadn't spared it much thought—and he probably should have. He'd been too busy with wedding preparations, and dealing with the complications of the mauling, to think about anything else.

"If you want to know the story, then you're going to have to shut it and listen," Ron snapped. "Things are the way they are—the way Dumbledore wanted them."

"Right. And he expected to die and leave all this on the shoulders of a seventeen-year-old boy."

Ron picked up his queen and slammed her down. "Checkmate," he snarled. "You're rubbish at chess, Bill."

He stood abruptly, knocking over the board. The pieces scattering everywhere, their indignant screams and mutterings filled the air as Ron stomped out of the room and around the corner to the stairs. Forcefully reminded that all of his younger brothers were annoying prats, Bill flopped back in his chair. Well, that hadn't gone well. Perhaps he should wait until Ron had more food in his belly before approaching him again. He flicked his wand at the chessboard and its pieces, putting everything back to rights.

oOo

"Where've you been?"

Audrey closed the flat door, rolling her eyes at her brother. "None of your business."

In truth, she was where she was most nights: Percy's. Not that she owed Seth an explanation. He stood at his desk, glaring at her from the corner of his eye. Usually, he was gone to work by the time Audrey skulked back into the flat, and they didn't have to act out this awkward scene.

"You think you're so grownup because you shag Weasley," Seth sneered. Whipping around to face Audrey, his eyes red-rimmed. "Why don't you ask what happened last night?"

She swallowed hard. "What's the matter?"

"Runcorn put Sarah in hospital."

Audrey's stomach sunk. Pushing her hair behind her ears several times, she tried to formulate the right words. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

Those weren't the right words. Those were the words of a little girl who was caught doing something naughty. Audrey should have asked about her sister's health. In truth, Audrey felt as helpless as a child, more helpless than when Sarah married that bastard. At least then Audrey could stage her one-girl protest. This time all she could do was cry. She had no idea how to help her sister.

"Is-is she okay?" Audrey asked, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

"Yeah," Seth replied in a softer tone. "Lance was on duty at St. Mungo's. They fixed her up, and sent her home."

"Sent her home? But—"

"It's what she wanted. Besides, the girls…."

Audrey nodded. She didn't need Seth to finish his sentence, she understood. Of course Sarah went home to her children, it's what a mother was supposed to do.

"Has this happened before?" Audrey asked, then let her face fall into her hands as the tears she'd been fighting overcame her.

"Hey," Seth murmured. He put his arms around Audrey. "No, I don't think so. Or at least she's never been in hospital before. Lance was here a little bit ago, he said he searched her file for past visits."

Now Lance knew about Sarah's problems. Audrey wondered if Kitty had come clean with her husband and told him about the plans to help Sarah leave Runcorn. This was what Audrey had always wanted because she hated Runcorn, but now it seemed really naïve to wish for a marriage to end. Like a little girl, she had only ever thought about how great it would be never to have him at family dinners again. Audrey never considered how ugly it would be for Sarah to leave the git. Audrey felt very stupid and young, but also scared.

"What's going to happen now?" Audrey asked.

"I don't know yet," Set replied, patting her back. "But stay close in case we need your help."

Audrey didn't say anything, she just hugged her brother tighter.

oOo

From the moment Bill got out of bed the morning after his argument with Ron, Fleur knew that her husband wanted nothing more than to speak with his youngest brother, but that was not to be. Bill showered quickly, then came to breakfast, yet his eyes were not on the porridge Fleur set before of him, but on the door. However, the younger man never made an appearance before Bill had to leave for work.

Shortly after the backdoor banged shut, Ron materialized and Fleur fed him plain porridge and dry toast. Afterwards, Ron once again disappeared into his room, only emerging to be fed. Fleur tolerated this, even when he declined supper in favor of sleep that night, because, frankly, Ron had the most disgusting manners at the table. It was appalling to watch him cram one sandwich in his mouth, while another was gripped in his other fist. When she complained of this to Bill that night, her husband had simply laughed.

"Hazard of growing up with so many brothers, I'm afraid."

"You eat like a civilized person."

Bill shrugged. "Sure, now, but have you ever tried to vie for food with five other boys at the table? I thought Charlie was going to make a roast of George's fingers one time."

Her husband laughed, but Fleur could only scowl.

On the third day of this behavior, Fleur had had quite enough. Bill was no longer staring at the stairs anxiously, there was a desperation in his eyes that Fleur did not like to see. When Bill returned to the kitchen at dinnertime to report that Ron had requested a tray in his room, Fleur could no longer tolerate it. Sparing her husband a nasty glare, she stomped up the stairs and banged on the guestroom door.

"Supper will be served in ten minutes," Fleur called through the door, her raised voice edged with only the merest coating of politeness. "I expect you to wash your hands and join us."

"You're not my mum," Ron said without opening the door. "You can't order me about."

"No, but I am your hostess and you are behaving very…very…."

"Shabbily," Bill supplied from the bottom of the steps, where he was leaning against the bannister lazily.

"Oui, zat. You have acted very shabbily, and now I want you to join us for supper or—or starve!"

Fleur marched back down the stairs, past her laughing husband and into her kitchen. She was gratified a short time later when a sheepish-looking Ron joined them at the table. It was a stilted affair with Ron only providing monosyllabic answers to direct questions, but at least he offered to clean up without being prompted.

As Ron took his and Fleur's plate to the sink, Bill gave her a look, and Fleur excused herself. Twenty minutes later, Bill joined her in the sitting room. He flopped onto the sofa, pulling the tie out of his hair, and laid his head in Fleur's lap.

"He would not speak to you?" Fleur asked, stroking her fingers through his ginger locks.

Bill shook his head, reaching up to rub his face, but Fleur slapped his hands away. "The only thing he said was 'pass the forks please.'"

"You must be patient, mon Bill."

"The full moon is less than a week away," Bill said quietly. He looked up at Fleur, a worried line between his brows.

"And Ron will still be here when it is gone."

Bill was quiet, then, "How will we keep him from seeing…what I go through."

Silence stretched thin in the candlelit room. What could Fleur say? There was nothing, except the truth: that Ron would see. He would be witness to the torture that his brother endured every month. It now seemed very foolish to Fleur that they had ever believed they could keep such a monumental secret. Of course his family would know eventually, had not Molly already hinted as much? Certainly Bill's employers, and maybe his co-workers, were aware. Any imbecile could look at Bill's absences and see how they coordinated with the lunar cycle. Merlin knew what they must think. Perhaps they thought he was a full werewolf? The goblins were already making noises about Bill being unreliable, what if they decided he was also dangerous? Fleur's hand trembled as she worked it through her husband's ginger strands.

"We cannot keep it a secret from Ron," Fleur said at last.

Bill closed his eyes, his hands tightening where they lie clasped over his chest. "I don't want him to see me differently—I don't want his pity."

"Bah," Fleur scoffed. "If he is so stupide zen he can find another place to stay. You are brave, your brother will see zis."

After a long sigh, Bill rolled off the couch. "Potterwatch is on tonight," he said, going to the wireless and tapping it with his wand.

As he tried to guess the correct security word to get the broadcast in, Fleur watched her husband with a growing sense of unease in her belly. He was becoming increasingly distant from her and she did not like it, but she also did not know what to do about it. Most of the time, he was her Bill, the same easy-going, funny, considerate man that she fell in love with, but sometimes she glimpsed in him something she had never seen before: self-doubt. Fleur knew that Charlie called Bill arrogant, maybe he was, but it was painful to watch him doubt himself and his choices. There had been comfort in the quiet assurance Bill had in his ability to know what was right, and now he was second guessing himself.

"Ah, there it is!" Bill declared.

"…that foul git Scabior roughed up the McDonnell family in their home three days ago when they wouldn't reveal the whereabouts of son-in-law…."

Lee Jordan's voice filled the room as Bill came to sit beside Fleur on the sofa, his arm flung across the back. Fleur rested her head on his shoulder as the twins read a list of wizards who had gone missing in the last week.

oOo

Before Audrey could knock on the door, it was flung open by her brother, Brian. The git smirked at her as she was left standing on the step with her fist raised, staring at him stupidly. Snatching her hand out of the air, Audrey scowled and pushed past him into the foyer of Kitty's home. She didn't see any of her other siblings, but they should be about somewhere.

"Hello, brat," Brian said as he closed the door.

"Can we not antagonize Audrey today, Brian?" drawled their brother-in-law. Lance looked bored where he leaned against the balustrade, but his blue eyes were piercing and sharp.

Audrey stuck her tongue out at Brian, but quickly put it back in at Lance's reproving glare. She slipped behind her brother-in-law to sit on the stairs. The tension was thick in the Pucey family foyer. Seth set out earlier in the morning, and though Audrey didn't see him milling around, she assumed he was about somewhere, Kitty as well. However, Audrey was surprised when she saw Lance's younger brother, Adrian, come down the stairs and sit beside her. He was a year younger than her, but so good-looking he was hard to look at. Since the day their siblings married, Audrey had found herself stealing looks at the Slytherin boy from the corner of her eye.

"Oh, good, Audi's here," Kitty said, striding into the room with Seth in her wake. "We can begin."

"You don't think this is an awful lot of people for this production?" Brian asked, looking around the room with his hands propped on his hips. "We are going to cause a scene."

"Do you think that matters at this point?" Lance replied. He was still leaning against the bannister, the very picture of ennui, if it weren't for his tense shoulders and acid tone.

"I would rather not leave anything to chance," Kitty agreed, fiddling with her cuffs.

"Still, four fully-qualified wizards and one witch to retrieve a woman and her children from her own home?" Brian challenged.

Seth shot a look at Audrey from across the room, and shook his head. There was barely a year's difference between Kitty and Brian, but the two of them were eternally squabbling. It would seem that old habits died hard, but Kitty looked ready to hex him to the moon and back. It was no wonder, considering the strain Kitty had been under the last few days.

"Our dear brother-in-law is one step away from being a full Death Eater," Kitty said through clenched teeth. She had her wand half raised and pointed in Brian's general direction. "He paraded his own daughters in front of the likes of Rodolphus Lestrange and Theodore Knott, Sr. as an example of the pureblood elite. Do you think he is just going to let Sarah and the girls slip away without a fight?"

Lance pushed away from the bannister and went to Kitty, enfolding her into his arms. "Runcorn put Sarah in hospital only days ago, lest you forget," he said to Brian. "I realize that you come by your superiority complex naturally, but we could do without it today, if you please."

Brian looked ashen. "I-I didn't forget. Are you sure this is the first time he's ever done…anything like that?"

"Yes," Kitty answered. "We don't have secrets between us."

Beside Audrey, Adrian reached over and patted Audrey's back. She almost looked at him with a grateful smile. The youngest Pucey sibling wasn't nearly as stuffy as Lance. In fact, he'd always been very nice to Audrey as they had often been consigned to the same table at family gatherings, but Merlin, no man should look as handsome as Adrian Pucey. Really, it just wasn't fair.

"At the risk of making myself as big an arsehole as Brian," Seth started, earning him a dirty look from said brother, "why is Adrian here?"

"Because my brother is particularly adept at Defense and his skills may come in handy," Lance replied easily.

"I still think this seems like a lot of people for the job at hand," Brian argued. "We are going to attract attention to ourselves—how will that benefit Sarah and the girls? Maybe Kitty should stay home."

If it weren't for her husband's arms around her, Kitty would have hexed Brian after all.

"Even if Kitty were not an accomplished witch, which she is," Lance said, "we need her help with the children. The last I checked, Brian, you were neither maternal nor particularly skilled at Defense. Perhaps you would like to remain behind with Audrey?"

Audrey sat up at that. "Why am I being left out? I'm pretty good at Defense."

Brian scowled at her, but Seth gave her a knowing look.

"We need you to watch Caro," Lance replied simply.

Babysit, that was all they thought she was good for? As the youngest, what experience did Audrey have with children? She opened her mouth to protest, but realized that it was both useless and childish, so she snapped it shut. There was no small amount of resentment at being relegated to the nursery, but it wasn't like Audrey was being left out of knock-about Quidditch. What was happening today was important, it wasn't her place to argue.

With a gentle nudge, Kitty pushed out of her husband's embrace. "If we are finished wasting time, can we please get this started?"

oOo

"Mummy says that Auntie Sarah and the girls are going to come live with us," Caro said from the table. "Do you think they will sleep in my room? Tilly can sleep with me, but she can't have my dolly."

Audrey spread peanut butter over a slice of bread, then glanced up at the clock again. "I'm sure Tilly will have her own dolly."

"You don't think she wets the bed, do you? I big girl, I never wet the bed."

"Tilly is the same age as you, poppet."

"But I all growed up, Tilly still a baby."

It had been an hour since everybody left. Audrey would know, she'd been checking the clock every few minutes since she'd watched Seth and Brian, the last to leave, Disapparate. She hated not knowing what was happening. They had planned this so that Albert would be at work, but what if he came home early? What if he brought some of his nasty new friends with him? What if they targeted Lance and Kitty for retaliation? Lance was already under pressure from the Death Eaters.

Jam slopped off the knife and onto Audrey's hand. She licked it off, leaving a sticky purple stain on her palm. How long did it take to get one witch and three little girls? Surely they should be done by….

The front door banged open.

Audrey dropped the butter knife with a clatter onto to the worktop. Muffled voices and scuffling feet could be heard from the foyer. For a moment, Audrey felt frozen. That last hour seemed to stretch out before her by inches, but now it felt as if life was spinning like a top in dizzying speed. Shouldn't life-changing events take place over days and not in the course of an hour?

"They're here!" Caro shouted, sliding off her chair.

"Wait! Caro! Get back here!"

Rushing after her niece, Audrey knew a tinge of shame. She wanted to know what was going on in the foyer, too, and she was glad that it was the four-year-old rushing in where she wasn't meant to be instead of her, Audrey. Now she could be the concerned auntie instead of the nosy baby sister. Somehow, Audrey was sure that sentiment reflected poorly on her character.

The two girls skidded to a halt as they rounded the corner into the foyer. Sarah stood there, three young girls clutching her robes, but she looked small and alone with the same dark hair and dark eyes as Audrey. For a split second, time slowed, then stopped. Sarah looked around, her eyes meeting Audrey's. There was such shame in Sarah's glistening stare, and Audrey felt maybe she shouldn't be a witness to her sister's most personal feelings. The youngest sister felt that maybe she should say something, or perhaps she should simply look away, but instead she was immobile and unblinking. Then just like that, Kitty was there to sweep Sarah and the girls up the stairs and out of sight.

Then everything was happening at the same time. Lance stumbled in supporting his injured brother. As the two hobbled into the sitting room, Seth and Brian walked in looking haggard. Audrey launched herself at them, wrapping her arms around both of their necks.

"Did it go wrong?" Audrey asked as her brothers sandwiched her between them.

"Runcorn showed up just before we were to leave," Brian answered. "It got ugly for a moment."

"But we're here, and Sarah and the girls are safe," Seth added. He patted the back of her head. "No more boys, okay, Audi?"

"Okay," Audrey agreed. "I'll just sleep around, none of this relationship business, alright?"

Seth squeezed her. "You are the worst sister ever."

"Complete brat," Brian agreed. "We should have found a nice doorstep for you when you were a baby."

Audrey laughed, and wiped her eyes. "Where's Caro?"

She spied the little girl trotting off in the direction of the sitting room and scurried after her.

"Daddy, is Uncle Adrian hurt?"

Lance knelt before his brother on the settee, but he looked up when Caro came into the room. "Darling…. Audrey take Caro away please."

"I get my Healer's bag," Caro said. "I help."

Adrian sat on the settee with his shirt off, blood covering his arm and chest. Audrey felt Caro brush past her, but everything seemed very far away. The metallic smell of blood filled her nose, and all she could see were the crimson droplets rolling from a nasty rip in smooth white skin. There was a voice—it was barking a command at her from very far away—and then….

Blackness.

Chapter 25

Notes:

This chapter is Not Safe for Work. Once Bill enters the bedroom, you might want to stop reading (for now).

Audrey stood outside Percy's door about to knock, or not. She'd been in the same place for the last five minutes, completely undecided. It just seemed as though maybe she shouldn't be here, at Percy's. Probably, if she were a good sister, she would still be at Kitty's doing….something. She wasn't sure what, Kitty and Sarah seemed to have everything in hand by the time Audrey left with Brian and Seth. In fact, the elder sisters seemed rather relieved to have fewer people about. Still, Audrey wasn't sure what she was doing outside Percy's door, or what she was expecting from him if she went inside. Coming here had been an impulse when she couldn't stand watching her brothers sit on the sofa drinking Butterbeers any longer.

As it turned out, Audrey didn't have to knock after all. The door opened to reveal Percy standing on the threshold with the rubbish bag hovering in front of him. At the sight of her, his eyes grew round and large for a split second before he tried to look less like a prat again. For the first time that day, Audrey truly smiled.

"Hello, Gryffindor," she said.

"Audrey, I-I've m—" He started, then cleared his throat.

Something clenched in Audrey's chest. Had he been about to say he missed her?

"You've not been around in a few days," Percy said with a careful evenness to his tone. "I was worried."

"I didn't mean—"

"It's alright," he said quickly. "Come inside, please."

"What about your rubbish?"

Putting one hand on her arm, Percy drew her inside. "It'll keep till later."

Percy closed the door, setting the bag beside it. For a moment, the two of them just stared at one another. Percy's eyes were warm as they scanned her face, she could see that his concern for her had been real, but then she never really doubted it, had she? Was she hoping to come here for a quick shag to take her mind off the last few horrible days? Was she hoping that Percy would drag her into the flat and kiss her breathless? Not exactly, but she wouldn't have objected. Then what did she want from him?

"Do you want a cup of tea?" he asked.

"Yes, that would be lovely."

While Percy disappeared into the kitchen, Audrey hung her coat on the brass rack and lay her hat and gloves on the hall table she'd made him buy from Felix Hancock. There needed to be a mirror to hang over the table, she decided, and maybe something besides his briefcase to sit on top of it. While she dithered, she heard the kettle whistle. Before she knew it, she was sat on the sofa with Percy handing her a cup and saucer.

"With four scoops of sugar, just like you like it," Percy said and sat beside her. "It occurs to me that you don't actually like tea."

"Of course I do!"

"No, you like sugar."

There was a small, amused smile on Percy's face, and his eyes were warm again. Not at all the same as the burning light she saw there when they were ripping each other's clothes off. The look in his brown eyes now was many degrees cooler, but not at all cold. There was kindness there, and empathy. He couldn't possibly know what was bothering her, yet he could obviously tell that something was weighing on her mind. What's more, he seemed to want to help her…like a friend.

Yet, they weren't friends, were they? There was all that talk of being friends who shagged, but the emphasis was on the shag part. That's what Audrey wanted, wasn't it? She didn't want to be Percy's friend, she didn't want to share confidences with him. It would be a quick jump from that to having feelings for Percy, and Audrey did not want to have feelings for Percy.

Setting her teacup on the coffee table, Audrey stood. "You know, Percy, I think-I think I should go. I'm not good company tonight and…and I don't know why I came over anyways."

Before she could step away, Percy took her hand. "Maybe you just needed a friend."

She watched as his thumb made wide, slow circles on the back of her hand, but she couldn't seem to find anything to say.

"I could be your friend," Percy said.

Audrey stared as his long-fingered, freckled hand curled around her small one. Its warmth seeped into her skin, the gentle caress relaxed her. There was a voice in her head that screamed for her to leave, that she was too close, too vulnerable, but every beat of her heart urged her to stay. Percy shifted his hand so that their fingers laced together, and Audrey was reminded that her hand fit inside his.

Without any real thought, Audrey found herself sinking onto the sofa once more. "Have you ever wanted something to happen, but when it does you realize that it was actually awful?"

"I think that sums up my entire career at the Ministry," Percy replied with a small smile.

Audrey laughed, which made Percy smile wider. As she settled into the sofa, with Percy's arm around her, Audrey felt lighter. It was good to laugh, even this little bit. It was even better to have someone to share her burdens with. Also, her head fit perfectly into the hollow of his shoulder when they sat like this, as if they were meant to go together in just this way.

"My sister, Sarah, left her dreadful husband," Audrey admitted. "I always hated Albert, but it was really terrible to watch her marriage end."

"The end of any family is unpleasant," Percy said and stroked her hair. "That doesn't mean it isn't for the best."

"Percy Weasley, Man of Understatement," she teased. She sneaked a look up at him and saw that he was blushing, but he was also smiling. Feeling quite pleased with herself, Audrey burrowed in closer to Percy. "It was dead awful, and I felt so useless, and then I fainted."

Percy laughed, then cleared his throat. "Um, are you well?"

"Oh yes, it was just a case squeamishness, but my brothers told Adrian Pucey that I fainted due to the sight of his naked chest. Horrid creatures!"

"Now hold on! What is this about a man's naked chest?"

"You can't be jealous?" Audrey tipped her head back so she could look at him. "Friends don't get jealous."

Percy was very red, and he adjusted his glasses three times before grumbling, "Of course not." He cleared his throat. "I just think you've forgotten a few important details, that's all."

Audrey laughed. "Well, it all started…."

oOo

The guestroom door was still firmly closed. Bill stared at it for a moment, irritation buzzing under his skin. He had half a mind the throw open that bloody door and pull his brother out of bed. Rolling his shoulders, Bill forced himself to go down stairs where he could hear Fleur making breakfast. Maybe he'd get a nice rare steak along with his steaming vial of potion this morning.

Stopping on the last step, Bill drew in a long breath and blew it out again slowly. He stretched his neck from side to side, rolling his shoulders again. Physically, there was nothing wrong with him—any more than usual—but his skin felt tight and itchy. His clothes were uncomfortable, and a headache buzzed behind his eyes.

It was the moon. The closer it came, the more irritable Bill felt. Once he drank the Wolfsbane potion, he would feel more like himself.

As excruciating as the pain of not transforming was, Bill hated this side effect just as much. He didn't fit inside his own body. His temper was tender to a flame. He didn't know who he was, or why he was angry. If the pain was like being turned inside out, this was like being an exposed nerve. At least the potion helped to control this symptom.

This month seemed more raw than others, and Bill knew why. Ron's presence still weighed heavily in the back of Bill's mind, growing, looming, gnawing. Fisting his hands, Bill felt his entire body go rigid. He remembered that tone of resignation in Fleur's voice from the night before when she told him that Ron would see. Bill hadn't wanted to think about that then, but it was all he could think about now, and he was not resigned.

He didn't want his brother to see. He didn't want him to know. There had to be a way to keep Ron from finding out. It was tempting to just send for Mum. The moment she knew Ron was at Shell Cottage, she'd descend upon the place like a Niffler on Gringott's gold. But Bill promised Ron he wouldn't tell anyone about his being there. Bill simply could not go back on his word once it was given.

Stepping off the last stair, Bill's feet took him not to the kitchen, but to the stillroom. No candles were lit, casting the small, windowless room into blackness. Regardless, the woody scent of herbs and cuttings welcomed Bill, reminding him that there was nothing to fear from the dark. He didn't need light to know where Fleur kept her potions—she was very orderly. Stepping forward, Bill picked up a small vial. The moment his fingers closed around the smooth, cool glass, his breath caught in his throat.

In his hand was the solution to his problem. His fingers trembled as he slid the vial into his inner coat pocket.

oOo

The backdoor banged shut. Fleur looked up from her garden to see Ron standing on the top step, staring out at the sea. The wind was ruffling his overlong hair, but the look on his face was pensive. There was still a sense of misery around the young man, but Fleur thought it encouraging that he had come out of his room for something other than nourishment. Sitting back on her haunches, she wiped one dirty hand over her brow.

"Help me in zee garden, s'il te plaît," Fleur called.

Ron tore his eyes away from the water to look at his sister-in-law.

"You did well in herbology, oui?"

Shoulders hunched, he came down the steps and into the garden. "Alright, I reckon. It was Hermione who was brilliant at herbology."

"Mais oui, your Hermione is brilliant in all things." Fleur handed him her basket of clippings.

Ron swallowed harshly. "She's not my Hermione."

Without looking up from her garden box, Fleur stole a glance at her brother-in-law. The wind blew his shaggy red hair into his face, and he pushed it back. From what Fleur had observed, Hermione very much fancied Ron. It had not been lost on Fleur that the younger girl resented her just as much as Ginny did, nor was it a mystery as to why. Hermione was often cool but polite when alone with Fleur, but if Ron entered the room, the other girl's demeanor became sullen and resentful. Wanting to make friends with somebody who seemed very welcomed in the Weasley home, Fleur tried not to be hurt by Hermione's attitude; after all, how would she feel if Bill turned into a slobbering idiot every time another woman came by?

Yet it was more than that. On a few occasions, when everybody thought Fleur too busy with wedding preparations, she was watching Ron watching Hermione. Fleur saw the way Hermione stood nearer to Ron than she did Harry. A budding romance was in the air, bursting with all the confusion and giddiness that went along with it. Amid the worry over Bill's health, the looming war, and a wedding that felt as though it was spiraling out of control, Fleur found the fascination the two friends shared for one another a welcome distraction. Now Ron's tone when he spoke Hermione's name was desolate.

The feeble afternoon sun trekked across the gray English sky, and Ron followed behind Fleur, carrying her basket, as she cut leaves and stems to use for potions. He was silent at her back, a dour presence that did nothing to recommend him to his hostess. When she was done, Fleur stood and pulled off her gloves.

"I zink I liked it better when you brooded in your room," she said archly.

Ron's mouth fell open. "Um, I'm sorry, I don't mean to be a burden. I'll-I'll go—"

"Bah! Come and have tea, you silly man."

Looking like a frightened rabbit, Ron let Fleur pull him into the house. She sat him at her butcher's block and plunked a plate of biscuits before him.

"You're a good cook," he said as he shoved a third in his mouth.

Fleur curled her lip. "You are disgusting."

He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. "What? Do I—" He covered his nose. "Do I have a bogey?"

Despite herself, Fleur laughed. She could not say that Ron was in any way charming, but he was at least endearing. She levitated the tea service to the counter near the sink, despite Ron's muttered protestations.

"Come," she said, and slipped off her stool. "Bill will not be home for dinner tonight, we can use our time wisely and prepare zese cuttings for potions."

"I hate potions," Ron grumbled, but he followed her into the stillroom. "Is Bill on a mission?"

Fleur sighed and passed over a paring knife. "Oui, but it is only to meet smugglers wiz healing contraband zee Order needs. Nothing dangerous."

"Mere walk in the park, yeah?" Ron said darkly.

Tying on her apron, Fleur stifled the urge to sigh again, instead she forced herself to smile. "A simple task, and he said we should not wait up. Now, I need you to separate the cuttings by plant…."

oOo

It was well after midnight when Bill found himself finally walking up to his backdoor. Under the porch light sat Ron on the wicker settee with a cup of tea, a blanket around his shoulders. As he neared, Bill saw that his baby brother had his wand casually pulled out and pointed at Bill's chest.

"I changed your nappies," Bill said and smirked.

"Hardy-har-har, bloody wanker, tell me something only Bill Weasley would know."

"There are a lot of somethings only I would know, the question is: what does Ron Weasley know?" Bill held up his hands. "The summer you were in Egypt, I arranged it so that all of us brothers could go to a nightclub with belly dancers. You had your first fizzy drink and saw your first naked woman—or thought you did anyways."*

Ron lowered his wand, his ears turning pink.

"Seen any naked women since?" Bill asked and sat on the top step.

"Piss off," Ron grumbled.

"I'll take that as a 'no' then."

"Had my hand up Lavender Brown's shirt."

"Congratulations."

Ron crossed his arms over his chest, his beet red face set in stubborn lines. "Git."

"Fleur asleep?"

"Yeah, she paced about the sitting room for a bit, but she fell asleep a couple of hours ago." Ron sat on the step next to Bill, still huddled under the plaid blanket.

"What are you doing out here?"

"Couldn't sleep. Got tired of being cooped up in that room, really."

"Hm, I always thought you had a particular talent for moping, I would have thought you'd put at least another week into being a giant pain in the arse before you gave in."

Ron glared at Bill, who just laughed.

"You're a right bloody arsehole."

"That makes two of us, I think it might be a family trait."

Feeling smug, Bill waited for Ron to mutter something like 'shut it' or 'knob-end.' He wasn't expecting the sharp elbow that found its way into his left arm where part of the muscle had been gouged out. Sharp needles of pain stabbed Bill from his shoulder to his fingertips. With a gasp, Bill grabbed his arm and recoiled, off-setting his balance and tumbling off the steps to sprawl onto the ground below.

There was a beat of silence.

Then Ron exploded into laughter. "You—That—" He clutched his stomach, doubling over with glee.

Bill stared up at the stars. "Bloody hell."

"That about covers it, big brother," Ron said, appearing over Bill's prone figure. He offered his hand. "And to think, you're the cool one."

Bill took Ron's hand and gave it a yank. The younger brother pitched into the sand, and Bill pounced on him, putting him in a headlock.

"Still cooler than you," Bill panted.

Ron elbowed Bill's ribs. "Geroff!"

"Not until you admit it!" Bill dodged another elbow. "Say 'Bill is the coolest big brother ever.'"

With a grunt, Ron got a fistful of hair. "You don't even rate as the coolest big sister!"

Swearing and laughing, Bill grappled with Ron through his back garden. The older brother heard his cloak rip at one point, his arm felt as if it were on fire and his breaths were coming fast and short, but Bill couldn't remember the last time he felt so light. For a moment, the war and the worry were years and rumors away—something only a few wizened wizards whispered about, but the rest dismissed as impossible. Bill felt like a kid again whose biggest worry was getting his chores done in time for Mum to let him meet up with some friends in Diagon Alley during summer hols. It was only when the flat of Ron's hand busted Bill in the mouth that he was brought back to himself.

"Bloody hell!" Bill swore, and held his hand to his mouth. Red-hot pokers of pain struck him in the face, but he couldn't feel any blood and nothing was torn open. Bill glanced at his little brother, who was crouched and ready for another attack. Rolling away, Bill cried, "Uncle!"

Ron exploded with laughter, clutching his stomach and rolling onto his back beside Bill in the grass. "Damn, Bill, you got old."

"And you grew up," Bill grumbled. "I will pay you two Galleons to never tell Charlie—or the twins!"

"Make it five, and you've got a deal."

"Fine. Wanker."

The two men lie on their backs staring up at the stars, chests heaving from exertion. There was an easy sense of camaraderie that Bill had never known with this particular brother. The age difference meant that Bill was always put in charge of caring for Ron, they were never just brothers like Bill and Charlie or even Bill and Percy. It was not as if Bill needed another sign to tell him that Ron was all grown up, but at least this one was pleasant. As the eldest, Bill wasn't sure there would ever be a time when he didn't feel responsible for his little brothers and Ginny, yet it was good to feel as if they were equals. That Ron was someone he could count on.

"How is the family?" Ron asked quietly after a time.

Bill sighed. "We're all still alive, that's something. I don't suppose you heard about Ginny?"

"And the ruddy Sword of Gryffindor? Yeah, I heard, believe it or not. I can't believe she did something so mental—and Neville! I thought I could count on him to be sensible…or…damn, Neville must have bigger bollocks than I ever gave him credit for."

"Or brain damage," Bill suggested, and gingerly probed his lip with his fingers. "It's not so hard to imagine Ginny doing something so massively stupid and brave, is it? She is our sister."

"Yeah, sister. Aren't girls supposed to be smarter than boys when it comes to this shite?"

"Gryffindor girls? Not likely."

Ron was quiet for a moment, then, "Are they okay?"

"As far as we know," Bill replied, then paused before adding quietly, "Truth is, none of us want to think about what's going on up at Hogwarts."

"What about Fred and George?"

Bill was glad that Ron ploughed ahead so that neither of them had time to dwell on Ginny and Hogwarts.

"They're actively trying to get themselves killed, aren't they?" Bill said, and Ron laughed. "They've started up a program on the wireless: Potterwatch. There should be another broadcast in a few days, you should come listen with us. One of only two sources of real news these days."

"Yeah? What's the other one?"

Bill looked at his brother and smirked. "The Quibbler."

"Are you taking the piss?"

"No, I promise on Mum's good silver it's true. Ol' Xeno is blatantly supporting Harry, and has put his entire paper into the effort. Talk about bollocks, takes real guts to do what Lovegood is doing…and a certain amount of foolhardiness." Bill pressed his hands together. "Honestly, I've been waiting to hear that Lovegood is dead. I don't think the Death Eaters are going to let him continue much longer."

"I hope you're wrong," Ron said quietly, looking out into starry night.

"Me too."

"What about Mum and Dad?"

Bill heaved a sigh. "They're…managing. It's not easy to watch your entire family go to war, but there's no one stronger than Mum or braver than Dad."

"I reckon," Ron muttered then rubbed his hands over his face. "I'm knackered."

oOo

"Bill?" Fleur called groggily from the bed, half sitting up.

"Sorry, love, I didn't mean to wake you."

The room was dark, but Fleur could make out Bill's form as he swaggered to the bed. Yes, he was swaggering—it was a word that she had learned from Audrey in reference to the odious Roger Davies. Yet, Fleur had never found that lazily confident gate offensive on Bill. When he bent to kiss her lips, Fleur found one hand twisted in his shirtfront, and the other yanking her wand out from under her pillow.

"Zee rendezvous went well, oui?" she asked, and silently lit her wand.

"It was a long wait, but a textbook drop."

Fleur gasped at the sight of her disheveled husband. His hair was half-pulled from its tie, bits of it sticking to his cheeks, there was a rip in his shirt under the armpit, and his mouth was swollen and red. Pushing herself into a full sitting position, Fleur's eyes expertly scanned Bill's form for additional injuries.

"You have been in a fight," she accused. She grabbed a fistful of shirt and tugged it up, looking for bruises, checking that his old injuries had not been reopened.

"Nah, just a little horse play."

Fleur's hands skimmed over Bill's ribs. "Horse play? You have been playing with horses? I do not understand."

"No horses, just roughhousing with Ron."

"Ron did zis!" With a thunderous brow, Fleur swung her legs out of bed, but Bill caught her around the waist.

"Don't worry about my baby brother."

He pulled his ripped shirt over his head and flung it on the floor. With her wand, Fleur cut away the bandages on his left arm, then lightly ran her fingers over his sensitive curse scars. Closing his eyes, Bill moaned deep in his throat. There was a part of Bill that was disgusted by the pleasure Fleur could bring him by using her fingers, lips, and tongue on his scarred flesh, even as his skin shivered under her touch. Taking advantage of his momentary surrender, Fleur found the gouge in his arm and kissed it and licked it, willing him to know that she did not find him disgusting in any way. Bill moaned more loudly, his hands gripping her waist more tightly. She kissed her way up his shoulder, gently laving his marred skin there, before moving to the pristine, freckled skin at the base of his throat.

Cool air rushed over Fleur's body as Bill pulled her nightgown up and off, making her squeal. Goose flesh rose up in all the places his warm hands skimmed over, but then they were skin to skin, her back pressed into the rumpled sheets and her breasts against his chest. Fleur hooked her leg over his hip, cursing the presence of his trousers. So many layers, his rough, bunched blue jeans, her filmy silk knickers. When the two met, they both cried out.

"Shh!" Fleur hushed, giggling. "Or Ron will hear us."

"Sod Ron."

Pulling the tie out his hair, it hung over his shoulders when he bent to kiss her again. Fleur lost her fingers in his tangles, tugging him closer, tasting him. His big hands found her breasts, gently twisting and tugging on her nipples every time his tongue dipped into her mouth. Desire licked through Fleur's body. Every bit of her skin, all of her nerve endings, even her scalp needed his touch, but not as much as that place between her thighs that was like hot liquid need. She loved Bill like this, confident and playful. Fleur loved Bill in every mood, even the sour ones, but this Bill. He made her want to do dirty things.

Fleur ran her fingers down Bill's shoulders and found his flat nipples, playing with them. He growled, rocking closer to her. There was a magic between them, Fleur had known it from the first time she laid eyes on him, before the Third Task of the blasted Triwizard Tournament. Many people would tell her that she was a fanciful little girl to believe in love at first sight, but Fleur knew better. It was magic. That magic went beyond the physical, it went to their very souls. But his touch, his kiss, it lit Fleur on fire. Even in the beginning, when she was afraid and inexperienced, Fleur wanted nothing more than to burn with her Bill. Her hands drifted lower, over scars and muscles, until she grasped his belt and began pulling it free.

"Fleur," Bill groaned. He reared back, watching as she undid the buttons of his crotch and pushed his jeans down, followed by his pants. His cock sprang free, ready for her. She loved that word, cock. It was, she decided, the only English word she adored. Pushing Bill back into the pillows, Fleur finished tugging off his jeans and threw them on the floor. She knelt between his spread thighs, smiling down at her naked husband in the moonlight, so completely at her mercy.

"Love," Bill said, smirking.

"Sh! You will say something stupid, and zen I will not want to do this." She ran her hands up the inside of his thighs to the place where his cock stood. Everything quivered, begging for her touch. She skimmed her hands up his tight stomach and he groaned. Fleur grinned. Then she leaned forward, her hair spreading around them, caressing his skin, and took him into her mouth. Her Bill was nothing but nerves and groans and sinew as she plied him with her lips and tongue and hands.

"Fleur…." Bill muttered some vulgar words, tugging on her hair. "Fleur…stop…not yet…"

She sat back on her haunches, looking at her husband. His chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, his lips parted and his eyes closed. Walking her fingers up his thigh, Fleur was very pleased with herself. Then he grabbed her hand, yanking her on top of him with a growl.

"Mmm…I love loving you." Running his hands down her back, sliding them inside her silk knickers to cup her bottom, Bill kissed her. "Tell me what you want."

A new rush of lust flooded Fleur's body, tightening her nipples and wetting her folds. "I want…" she started hoarsely, "you to kiss me…down there."

Bill's eyes flashed. "Thought so. On your knees, love."

He coaxed her to kneel over him, grasping the headboard for support. Clutching her hips, he didn't even remove her knickers. Instead, he licked her through the silk and Fleur moaned loudly. Senseless to the fact that anybody could hear her, helpless to her husband's mouth. She lost herself to his ministrations, writhing and gasping, her knuckles white from gripping the headboard. Then she was screaming and shaking, the whole world outside her bed was a place that no longer existed.

The next moments could have been eternities as Fleur gasped for breath and blinked in the darkness. Then Bill was behind her, pulling her knickers down and kissing her shoulder with his wet mouth.

"Ron definitely heard that," Bill said. She could not see him smirking, but she could hear it in his voice.

"You…are a…horrible man."

His pressed his hand low on her abdomen, his fingers brushing her pubic hair. Automatically, Fleur tilted her hips back, then he was there. Inside of her, his chest pressed against her back and his lips on her throat. It felt like a long time since they had made love like this. Since they shared this kind of abandon. Fleur reveled in it, knowing somehow that it would be a long time before it happened again. She did not let herself worry about Ron in the other room, or the war outside her door. She was in that moment, enjoying the aura of her husband's recklessness and the feel of his hands on her body. The thrill of his groan as he came close to the end, the power of his thrusts, and the way his fingers dug into her skin.

When it was over, they collapsed onto their bed in a sweaty, messy heap.

oOo

The morning of the full moon came only a few days later. Fleur woke up before the sun with a knot in her stomach. Careful not to wake her sleeping husband, Fleur slipped out of bed, crammed her feet into fuzzy slippers and pulled on her winter dressing gown. Padding quietly past the closed guestroom door, then down the stairs to the kitchen. She busied herself with the meticulous preparations for making café au lait.

Bill, like any good Englishman, preferred tea. He could take it morning, noon, and night, and several times in between. He was not particularly picky about his tea. When they were dating, Fleur had gifted him with a beautiful tea chest made of English oak and intricately carved with ivy, inside was a variety of fine loose teas from oolong to Earl Grey. To this day, it sat in her cupboard, saved for guests who were not Weasleys. Bill, no matter how long he lived away from the Burrow, or how far he traveled, still preferred the cheap tea bags that Molly served in her home.

Fleur, on the other hand, was a very French witch, and she loved nothing more than a fine cup of coffee. From a young age, she had learned the charm to grind the beans (only the finest, of course), then place them into the French press, to steam the milk to perfection, to pour each into a fine china cup simultaneously to create the creamy perfection that was café au lait. She could perform the tasks mindlessly, yet the routine was soothing to her, especially now when it was becoming a jealously guarded indulgence. This war was making it difficult to obtain even the simplest of pleasures.

As she sat at the kitchen table over her café, Fleur heard somebody stirring upstairs and put the kettle on. Most likely, it was Bill getting ready for work. Ron normally had a lie in, which was just fine as far as Fleur was concerned.

Ron, Fleur noticed, preferred the heavy breakfasts of eggs and bacon that Molly served at the Burrow, but not Bill. Even when Fleur had first met Bill, he took a lighter breakfast like the ones she was accustomed to at home. When she heard feet on the stairs, Fleur swished her wand at the bread box and watched as several slices flew out and into an oiled pan waiting on the stove, from the cooling cabinet came a jar of yogurt and a bowl of grapes. Citrus was hard to come by these days, though Fleur would like nothing more than a nice grapefruit at breakfast. By the time Bill walked into the kitchen, the kettle was whistling, and Fleur was still sipping her café au lait.

"You were up early," Bill commented by way of greeting. He kissed her before walking to the stove to finish his breakfast preparations.

Fleur stuck her hand in the pocket of her dressing gown, fingering the vial of potion she carried there. "I could not sleep."

Bill looked at the calendar and sighed, but said nothing.

"Have you told your brother about tonight?" Fleur asked when he sat at the table across from her.

Avoiding her eyes, Bill took a bite out of his toast and jam. "I thought, perhaps, we could slip him a sleeping draught."

Fleur took a long moment to scrutinize her husband. He would not look at her, but kept eating as if nothing was out of the ordinary. He was, she surmised, both serious and ashamed. As well he should be! With her temper burning red hot in her veins, it took every ounce of good breeding to keep Fleur from screeching at her husband like a harridan.

"I will not help you drug your brother," Fleur hissed over her cup.

"You don't have to," Bill replied, spoon hovering over his yogurt. "I can do it at dinner tonight."

"Non! You will not do zis despicable act in my home."

Bill looked at her then. His blue eyes revealed the war inside. Equal parts desperation and determination showed there. He was not seeking her permission or approval, Fleur knew that, though perhaps he was hoping for it. That hope was misplaced. Ron was family, he was a guest in her home, Fleur would not be a party to poisoning him. Yet, her heart clenched over the fact that such a notion ever occurred to her noble and brave husband. Keeping his condition a secret from his family was one thing, resorting to such extremes frightened Fleur.

"How can we keep him from finding out otherwise?" Bill said in an even tone, just as if he were discussing the weather.

"You cannot keep it from him," Fleur said. "You must tell him, you must let him see. Zis is the only answer."

Bill averted his eyes, the lines around his mouth going tight. "So he can look at me as an object of pity?"

"If he sees your plight and feels only pity zen he is an idiot."

"Well, Ron is an idiot. You've met him."

"He is not. He is a man, a young one, and he has seen suffering…he has known suffering. You cannot do zis, mon Bill, it is on your honor."

They held one another's eyes for a pregnant moment, then Bill pushed away from the table and stood. Leaving his breakfast, his chair shoved aside, he strode out of the kitchen. Fleur could hear his boots on the stairs, and she imagined him taking them two at a time. Honor was everything. When Bill had no money, he still had his honor. If he drugged his brother, then he lost his honor, it was one more thing taken by that awful monster.

Fleur placed the vial of Wolfsbane Potion on the table. Bill had consumed the dreadful, smoking potion each day this last week so at least they knew Fleur had not killed him with it, but today they would find out just how good her potion-making skills were. When Bill returned wearing a woolen cloak and his satchel, he stopped at the table and stared at the potion. Pulling out the stopper, a faint blue smoke rose up, Bill tipped it to his lips and sucked it down in one long go. Making a face, he handed the vial back to Fleur and took a sip of his tea.

"I will see you tonight," Fleur said quietly.

Notes:

*Bill's memory, taking his brothers to see belly dancers in Egypt, is borrowed from the wonderful Hidden Chambers and Unseen Monsters by keeptheotherone.Thank you for letting me use that little tidbit, and for writing one of my favorite fanfics!

Chapter 26

In the setting sun over the sea, a singular figure stood at the crest of a dune staring pensively at the Cottage nestled on the cliff. Autumn was quickly giving way to winter. Already the beauty of the fall was gone, replaced by skeletal trees and gray skies. Mild days were few and far between, replaced by gusting wind and nights that crouched in earlier and earlier. The sun, the king of summer, had ceded his reign to the moon, the mistress of long winter nights. There was a time when Bill Weasley had thought long winter nights spent in the arms of a beautiful woman, sat by a roaring fire, sipping wine before making love were the ideal romantic fantasy. Now he craved long summer days of heat and sunshine.

In the home above, Fleur would be making ready for the night ahead. There would be pain potions, sleeping draughts, cooling packs, heating wraps. They had yet to find anything that eased the pain of the first hour after moonrise, though a combination of all four seemed to ease the rest of the night as long as the potions were re-administered every four hours. Regardless, it would be a sleepless night for the both of them. Bill wondered what Ron made of all Fleur's preparations.

He wondered if his wife noticed that one vial of Dreamless Sleep was missing.

The potion was in his breast pocket, the weight of it out of proportion to its size. Bill had nicked it two days ago when Fleur was distracted. The idea of dosing Ron had come to him like a meteor—bright, sudden, and possessing the potential to lay waste to everything in its path. Still, Bill had seized on the idea. He ignored the niggling doubt in the back of his mind, the one that said he would be pissed if the roles were reversed. That was hardly the only doubt, it wasn't even the most important. The very fact that his first instinct was to keep this plan from Fleur set off all sorts of alarms that Bill had done his best to ignore.

In truth, Fleur's reaction that morning was both exactly what Bill was expecting, and so much worse. She was right—he knew she was—to drug Ron was the height of dishonor. It was dishonest, underhanded, low. It was a violation of Ron's trust. It was everything Bill hated, everything he fought against. If somebody did something like this to him….

Reaching inside his cloak, Bill's hand curled around the vial of potion. He didn't want Ron to see—he didn't want his family to know—what Greyback had done to him. Oh, they could look at his face and see the proof of it plainly enough, but that wasn't the same as knowing the truth, not by a long shot. It was bad enough to see that sad light in his mum's eyes, or the tired resignation in his father's whenever they thought Bill wasn't looking. Their handsome boy, scarred for life. Until July, even the twins had been known to slide Bill a few pitying looks, but then George had been maimed and joined Bill in a new and gruesome brotherhood that even Fred couldn't be a part of.

For all that Bill resented the pity, like his scars, it was merely skin deep. Dad still looked to Bill for support, Mum still wrangled her eldest son into helping with the younger kids, Fred and George still thought he was cool, and Ginny still hero-worshiped him. Sure, Bill Weasley could be felled by a werewolf, but he lived to tell the tale.

He wasn't weak, sickly big brother Bill. Oh, the full moon is coming, better not burden Bill. Don't ask Bill, it was the full moon last night. Bill, dear, I brought you soup.

There wasn't a moment of Bill's life when he couldn't remember being somebody's older brother. Yes, there were moments when Bill resented being the eldest. How many times had he yelled at Charlie—You could help out here!—when the weight or the aggravation became too much? Bill never let Mum see it, though. She had enough on her hands without Bill shirking his duties. He never let Dad see it because he liked the look of pride in his dad's eyes when Bill took care of matters. And Bill had never let his brothers or Ginny see when he was afraid.

Bill had never been the fearless one, though. That was Charlie. Maybe that was why Bill could let his guard down with his nearest younger brother. Still, Bill hadn't even told Charlie the whole truth about his condition. Fleur was the only one who knew.

Besides Charlie, Fleur was the only person in the world who had seen Bill's weaknesses, but she loved him despite them. In fact that was how Bill had known that Fleur was the one. They'd known each other scarcely six months, dated for less than three, but Bill had known. It had been just after Christmas, just after Dad was nearly killed by You-Know-Who's snake.

Fleur was in France when it happened, but Bill was expecting her back by New Year's Eve. They had plans—big ones that included fancy clothes and lots of champagne. That night, when Bill showed up at Fleur's flat with bottle in hand, she knew something was wrong right away. It was that Veela thing of hers, that ultra-sensitive emotional barometer. She threw her arms around him and demanded that he tell her everything at once!

So, he told her. Old news, Dad would be fine, quite the scare.

Fleur had taken Bill's face in her hands and looked at him searchingly. She wasn't taken in by his small smile or nonchalant tone, she saw straight to the core of him. How frightened he'd been, how hard it was to concentrate on every word the Healer said, in case his mum missed something and had questions later. How he put on a brave face for his siblings, pushed them through the motions of Christmas. No matter how they complained, they trusted Bill when he said it was a close call, but there was a Christmas to celebrate and they needed to get on with it. How strained he'd been from writing missive after missive to Charlie to keep him informed. From having to march up to Percy's flat and tell him off.

"You have been so strong," Fleur had said. "And now I am here."

There they stood just inside her flat, Bill dressed in a well-cut Muggle suit, Fleur in a glittering black sheath dress and heels. It was New Year's Eve, they were meant to be dancing at some fancy party at midnight. Instead, Bill found himself with tears burning at the back of his eyes. He meant to say that it was nothing but found himself in Fleur's arms trembling and crying like a child. All of his fears had been unlocked, and out tumbled the emotions he normally only allowed himself to indulge in the privacy of his own room.

When it was all said and done, when the tears were spent, and when Bill was feeling raw and wrung out, he'd found his face pressed into Fleur's fragrant neck and her hand stroking his unbound hair. He'd been tired, too tired to try to save face, and he hadn't wanted to. There was no shame in letting Fleur be the strong one, and that's when he knew: she was his partner, his other half.

More than a year later, Bill hadn't doubted Fleur for an instant after Greyback laid him low. There were moments when Bill doubted himself to be certain: how could he tie a beautiful and healthy young woman to werewolf fodder like himself? She would be better off without a man who was chronically ill. She deserved better than to play nursemaid to her sickly husband for the rest of her life. What kind of life could he provide for her? For all that, it never occurred to Bill to keep Fleur from seeing his weaknesses. She was strong enough to bear the weight for the both of them.

But from the start, Bill worked to keep his family from knowing the extent of his injuries or the lingering side effects. The idea of Ron seeing his eldest brother powerless to the pull of the moon left a bitter taste in Bill's mouth.

Bill tightened his hold on the vial of potion. It was dishonor or humiliation—that was the choice before him.

Fuck Fenrir Greyback.

oOo

Fleur cobbled together a light repast of leftovers. Bill did not eat much on nights of the full moon, but she would need her strength, and Merlin knew feeding Ron had become a priority. She had avoided Ron all day, as the weight of Bill's secret had been making Fleur tremble with nervous energy throughout the day. If she had been faced with even the most innocuous question from Ron, Fleur feared she would have spilled the truth out.

Spread out on her butcher's block, Fleur had bits of rare steak in case Bill decided to eat something after all, wedges of quiche, a side of chicken fricassee, a crock full of parsley potatoes, another bowl with glazed carrots, four vials of Dreamless Sleep Draught, four vials of Super-Strength Foxglove Solution for pain, a vat of Burning Bitterroot Balm, a caldron charmed to keep cloths cool and moist, and a basket to keep blankets warm and dry. And in her hand, Fleur held a goblet of very dry white wine from the vineyard near her parents' home, made the year she was born. She and Bill had been gifted with a case of it for their wedding, and tonight it would help fortify her against her husband's agony, she hoped.

"Did you—" Ron walked into the kitchen and came to a halt. He surveyed the items on the butcher's block, his brow knotting. "So, dinner? And then are we planning to birth kittens or what?"

"Kittens?" Fleur asked. "I do not understand."

"What is all this for?" He picked at one of the rags in the caldron. "You look like you're ready to treat a real case of Spattergroit."

What did she say? If she just evaded the question, would he accept that and move on? She swished her wand at a plate, watching it fill with food and float to her brother-in-law, then smiled as he took it and sat at the table. It would seem that the best way to distract Ron was to feed him, she must remember that for the future.

The backdoor opened, and in walked Bill looking windswept and drawn. Fleur could tell from the way he held his shoulders that he had a headache. He closed the door on the howling wind, his eyes snapping from the preparations laid out on the butcher's block, to Fleur's pensive face, to Ron's perplexed expression. Pain made Bill's eyes dull, but there seemed to be a fitful resignation there. But resignation to what? Fleur could not be sure, she could only hope that he had chosen wisely. And if he had not? What would she do? Her stomach, already in knots, cramped painfully.

"Something wrong?" Ron asked, a forkful of carrots halfway to his mouth.

The tension that radiated off of Bill was so thick that even Ron could feel it. The younger man looked worried, but also like he could spring into action with a moment's notice. The muscles in his shoulders were taught, his legs already poised to jump up, his expression serious. He was expecting danger.

Bill sighed, then patted Ron's shoulder as he walked passed, towards Fleur. On her side of the butcher's block, Bill stopped and stared into her eyes. No words were exchanged, but so much was being said. He was at war with himself, and Fleur could only promise to aid him in the way she saw fit. Yet, there was no question that she would not be party to slipping Ron a potion. The younger man was watching the married couple warily, but Fleur pushed this knowledge aside, concentrating fully on her husband.

Finally, Bill pulled a potion vial from his breast pocket and presented it to her. All at once, Fleur felt as if she could breathe again. With trembling fingers, she took the vial, holding it in her fist, clutching it to her heart. The relief she felt made her knees week, and she had to lean against the butcher's block for support.

"Ron," Bill rasped. "There's something I need to tell you."

"I-I will just return this to the still room," Fleur said. She wrapped Bill in a tight embrace, feeling the tension in his arms when he returned it. Pulling back, Fleur offered a reassuring smile in exchange for his pensive expression. "Je t'aime," she whispered.

Bill nodded, his mouth thinning into a hard line, but Fleur understood. His resolve was brittle, he only had so many words before it broke, and he did not want to break in front of his brother. Not yet. Slipping past him, and out of the room, she pressed herself against the wainscoting. She knew she should not be listening, but she was anxious to know what Ron would say. If he was an idiot, then she would simply bury her brother-in-law in her blasted garden along with all of the other secrets. In the end it did not matter, Fleur could only hear the low rumble of voices, and then it was over. She was still against the wall when both men appeared in the hallway.

Halting for only a moment, Bill spared Fleur a dry-eyed glance before continuing to the library. He still wore the tension like a yoke, his fists clenched, and his eyes fathomlessly sad. For his part, Ron was very pale. He stood slump-shouldered in the kitchen door, watching his eldest brother disappear down the hall.

"So-so—" Ron stopped, cleared his throat and wiped his eyes. "It's bad, every month, for him, isn't it?"

Fleur nodded. "He is in very much pain."

Ron snuffled loudly. "What can I do?"

"Zere is nothing for you to do. Perhaps it would be best if you excused yourself for zee night."

"And-and it will be like this for Bill for the rest of his life?"

Fleur nodded, pushing out a long breath. "I am afraid—yes, it will be."

"Fucking Greyback!"

Ron's shout startled Fleur. One of his fists swiped through the air angrily, his ears turning bright red. He kicked the newel post of the staircase, cursed loudly and ran up the steps two at a time, slamming his door once he was in his room. Fleur sagged against the wall, buffeted by Ron's anger and her husband's anguish. Slowly, she went to the front door, opening it and stepping onto their rarely used porch. The chilly wind picked up loose strands of her hair and cooled her skin. Fleur took in great lungfuls of the bracing, salty gusts. The sun was gone, but the moon had yet to appear. The wind-whipped sea rushed onto the beach and out again in soothing rhythm. Fleur concentrated on this, letting the tide sooth her overheated nerves. There was work to be done, and no room for her own sorrow in it.

oOo

From her sentry by the parlor door, Fleur could see that Bill's ragged breaths were slowing, his body unclenching slightly from its curled form on the cleared floor. The worst was over for the night. Levitating a tray of potions into the parlor, Fleur did not spare her brother-in-law a glance where he sat on the stairs halfway down.

"Mon Bill," Fleur murmured, sinking to her knees by his side. Gingerly she brushed his side with her fingers and he flinched. "Roll onto your back, s'il te plaît."

Careful not to touch him again, Fleur waited for Bill to uncurl, which was a long process. He wore only a pair of lightweight trousers with a drawstring, his hair straggling from its tie. When the moon first made its presence known, Bill would try to remain stoic, even as he hunched on the floor, but he always gave in. Soon he was writhing, screaming, with tears streaming down his face. Fleur forced herself to stand back, knowing that there was nothing she could do for him, but also that anything she did do only made matters worse for him. Eventually, Bill's body curled into a tight fist and no sound came from him but for harsh gasps and pitiful whimpers. Part way through this process, Fleur had noticed Ron come from his room, then slowly make his way down the steps. There had been tears in his eyes, but he said nothing, unable to look at Fleur.

Finally, Bill rolled onto his back, his arms flung above his head. "Have you come to put me out of my misery, oh angel of mercy?"

"Zat is not funny," Fleur murmured as she opened the vat of Burning Bitterroot Balm to rub into his muscles.

"I don't know, I think I would welcome a nice Killing Curse about now," he replied.

"Take your potion, you awful man." Fleur held the vial to his lips, supporting his head. First the pain potion, then the Sleepless Dream Draught. Last month, they had discovered that if she could ease away the worst of the pain, then the second potion would help him drift off for short times, giving him some relief.

"Can you roll onto your stomach?" Fleur asked after the potions were administered.

"Not yet," Bill conceded. His voice was hoarse, coming out as little more than a whisper.

Fleur nodded, then began to work on his good arm, rubbing the foul smelling, purple salve into his skin starting at his wrist and working up to his shoulder. She paid special attention to his bicep and deltoid, listening for the little sighs and grimaces that communicated pain and relief. When she reached his scared chest, Bill found the strength to roll onto his stomach. He hated having the balm worked into his torso. He complained that it matted his chest hair and took days to rinse out. Once he was spread eagle across the sheet she had spread across the sitting room floor earlier, Fleur straddled his waist, careful not to put any of her weight on him. Beginning at the top of his spine, Fleur stroked downward in great swathes before using nimble fingers to work into his aching muscles. Bill gave a great groan as his body loosened under Fleur's touch. It was another half hour before Fleur was through with her task, and by that time, Bill was asleep.

"Do you do this every month?"

Fleur startled, then looked up at her brother-in-law who was standing just inside the room with his hands jammed in his trouser pockets. "How long have you been standing zere?"

Ron shrugged.

"It took us many months to figure out a routine zat worked," Fleur replied. She bent over Bill to kiss his scared cheek before climbing off of him. Just for a moment, she noted that her husband's jaw tensed. This first sleep was fitful, as well as being short. He would be awake again in an hour and half. It would be time then to hydrate and re-administer the potions. Fleur checked her watch.

Picking up the Burning Bitterroot Balm, Fleur replenished it before replacing the lid. As she tidied her tray of potions and rags, she could sense Ron's anxiety. He had many questions, but was hesitant to ask. Perhaps he was wary of invading his eldest brother's privacy, but maybe he also wished to remain ignorant. Sometimes knowledge did not set a person free, sometimes it was merely a burden. Fleur decided to let him make up his own mind. Often Fleur thought that she had used all of the emotion she could over Bill's condition, this was not one of those times. Having Ron present made it feel like witnessing Bill's agony anew.

Fleur set her tray aside and sat on the floor next to Bill, her back against the settee Ron seemed to find the courage to speak.

"I hadn't seen all of Bill's injuries, I reckon," the young man said, now standing over his sleeping brother. "I don't know why I thought it was all…." Ron waved his hand over his face. When Fleur did not comment, Ron pressed on. "So…so, why? He doesn't transform into a werewolf, but why does he suffer like this?"

"We have spoken to his Healers—who are useless—and zey do not know," Fleur answered. "I zink maybe zey do not care. Zere does not seem to be much—how do you say? Feeling what another feels?"

"Empathy."

"Oui. Zee Healers do not seem to have much em-pa-thy for werewolves or zere victims." Fleur scowled, a burning anger consuming her chest. "Zen we spoke to Remus."

"Professor Lupin?"

"Oui, he has been a wonderful help to us. He is zee only one who knows about Bill besides me." Fleur looked at Ron. "And now you."

"What did the professor say?"

"He can but guess—Bill is a unique case of course." Fleur stopped, her eyes staring into the distance. "Zat is not true anymore. Zere have been more attacks by Greyback and his kind like zee one on Bill. Zere are others now, who are scarred and afflicted."

"Bloody hell," Ron muttered, pinching his eyes closed.

"Remus zinks zat Bill does not have zee full lycanthropy, but enough contamination is in his blood for his body to try to transform. He says zat transformation normally begins at moonrise and can be very quick when the werewolf is out of doors, but that it is longer if he is confined as Remus normally is. It is zee worst for Bill in zee first hour, and Remus says zis is because his body is trying to transform, but cannot."

It was in the first month, just before the wedding, that Remus had told them this. Bill's very blood was at war with itself, the disease just strong enough to respond to the moon, but not enough contamination to complete the process. So, for Bill, it was pain and restlessness. Sometimes Fleur wondered if that were worse than being an actual werewolf, but no. Bill suffered, but he did not become a violent animal who could kill and maim despite the gentleness of his human side.

Fleur reached over and brushed a strand of hair away from her husband's face. "He is very worried," Fleur said to Ron, "zat you will see him differently."

Ron rubbed his face with both hands, then blew out a breath. "I always looked up to Bill, didn't I?" He dropped down on his haunches.

Fleur waited, expecting Ron to say more, hoping he would answer her unasked question, but silence stretched in the small room. Ron stared into the fire, at his hands, at the floor. Everywhere but at the man at his feet. It was on the tip of Fleur's tongue to dismiss him, when his thick voice filled the room again.

"Did you know, before the wedding?" Ron gestured at Bill.

Fleur nodded. "Zee first full moon came before we were married."

"I bet he tried to break it off, yeah?"

With a deep breath, Fleur simply nodded. When the consequences of the attack became apparent, Bill had tried to send her away. He'd said that he was too broken to make a good life for her. It had been one of their worst fights, especially since Bill had done so little talking. Fleur, on the other hand, had screamed her head off.

"I figured he'd do something noble like that," Ron said.

"He is a very foolish man."

Ron shrugged. "I don't see him differently, if that's what you want to know." He looked at Bill, then at Fleur. "Bill was always my hero and that hasn't changed, but I see you differently."

"Moi?" Fleur looked wide-eyed at her brother-in-law.

"I reckon you're a lot stronger than I ever thought to do all of this for Bill. Just goes to show that he's still the luckiest bastard to ever live."

Chapter 27

Without the Order of Mercy, Audrey's life was becoming rather pathetic. She spent her days reading through Seth's sad library and her nights with Percy. Sometimes Oliver would come around, and it would be like a proper get-together with friends, but the overgrown Quidditch player had a match nearly every week now and rarely had time to visit. Instead, it was mostly just Audrey and Percy, which had its benefits, but felt entirely too…intimate. Especially as their friendship moved past the phase where they couldn't keep their hands off each other, and into the stage where they sat quietly reading together on the sofa before getting naked.

So when her brother Brian turned up in mid-November, Audrey was keen for the distraction.

"I have here," Brian announced, "a shopping list from our esteemed sisters—who, it should be noted, are too cowardly to venture out of the house these days."

Audrey nodded. "Well, with a war and a psychopathic Death Eater husband, it does seem rather imprudent."

"He's not a Death Eater. Runcorn is much too useless for their ranks."

"True. So, Kitty and Sarah have entrusted you with this shopping list? That seems nearly as risky as going to Diagon Alley themselves."

Brian scowled at her. "I am an excellent shopper, all my girlfriends have said so."

"Oh, and their choice of boyfriend indicates excellent judgment."

"Hush, and come with me."

"You exhibit excellent manners as usual, Mother would be proud."

"Fine, I just thought I would alleviate some of your boredom—"

"Who says I'm bored!" Honestly, Audrey would do anything for a diversion—even go into Diagon Alley with her annoying older brother. However, she didn't want Brian to think she was too keen.

"Well, if you don't want to…" Brian started.

"Oh, I'll go!" Audrey lifted her chin. "On one condition."

Brian stared at her with total disdain. "Which is."

"You have to buy me five books."

His mouth fell open, then snapped shut. "Are you an adult or not?"

"Of course I am," Audrey huffed.

"Adult enough to shag Weasley, but not adult enough to buy your own books?"

"Consider it an advance on my Christmas gift."

"Not that I can expect one in return from my Knut-less little sister." Brian crossed his arms over his chest, looking down his nose at Audrey.

"That's all you know. I start a job tomorrow."

Audrey did not offer any specifics on this job. It was merely temporary, just for the Christmas season, and only so she could afford to buy gifts for her nieces. It was also in Muggle London, at a department store, as Father Christmas's helper. She would be an elf, or the Muggle version of an elf at least. She had told Percy, who had not liked the idea in the least, but couldn't very well make an objection since they were only friends. Audrey's brothers, however, did not need to know the specifics of her employment.

"Do you?" Brian asked. His brows lifted in surprise, but he actually looked happy for her. Then he added, "You've become a professional mistress then?"

Audrey hit Brian with a stinging hex.

"Ow! Brat. " Brian rubbed his arm. "I'll buy you three books, off the used table."

Secretly, Audrey was quite pleased. Three books, new or used, were more than she'd been hoping for. Throwing on her drabbest cloak, she let Brian Apparate her to Charring Cross Road. The Muggle street was already draped in holiday greenery and fairy lights, but Audrey knew a sick sense of dread. It grew thicker the nearer Audrey and Brian came to The Leaky Cauldron. Visiting Diagon Alley was a nerve-wracking prospect, that was true, but Audrey knew it was more than that. A thin mist swirled around her ankles, damp and cold and soul sucking. It was Dementors breeding on the woes of wizards and Muggles alike. Shivering, Audrey resisted the urge to cling to her elder brother.

"Come along," Brian murmured, putting an arm around her shoulders. "I'll watch out for you."

"I'll watch out for myself, thank you very much," Audrey retorted. "And I'll make sure you are well protected if I have time. What you know about Defense, Brian Sprayberry, could fit in a thimble."

Brian smiled down at her, tweaking her nose.

They passed through the pub into Wizarding London. The shopping was completed in record time, as neither sibling wanted to stay on Diagon Alley even long enough to squabble. However, the visit to Flourish and Blotts was a different story.

The musty smell of books enveloped Audrey as soon as she crossed the threshold, bell tinkling overhead. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. This was the smell of adventure, romance, daring, and knowledge. A bit of dust, a bit of mold, lives lived to the fullest between the covers of books. Ideas as dangerous as any sword, worlds as vibrant as the one in which she lived, all waiting to be discovered.

"Be quick," Brian said, but he was already wandering into the stacks. There was nothing her brother loved more than books. Audrey figured in a half hour's time, she would be the one reminding him it was time to go.

Running her fingers along the backs of leather-bound tomes, Audrey meandered through the stacks until she found the Used Books table. Rifling through, she found a cache of paperback romances. At only a Knut each, Audrey figured three romances were equal to one regular used book and proceeded to scoop up a tall stack of them. Skipping past the poetry, she found a volume of Wizarding plays but realized she already had this one. On the other hand, the illustrations were so beautiful that she really felt justified in adding it to her collection. Besides, this one included Marjory the Magpie, which was not in her other copy.

Before she turned to go, Audrey noticed a copy of The Maltese Falcon. The yellow dust jacket with its titular raptor was torn and Spello-taped back together. Flipping it open, the dust of decades rose up to tickle Audrey's nose and make her sneeze. This book hadn't been read in ages, but it must have been well loved. The pages were dog-eared and tea-stained, whole passages were underlined with tiny notes crammed into the corners. Best of all, this mystery was in fact its own mystery. How had a Muggle novel come to be sold on the Used Books table in a wizarding shop?

Percy would love it! She wondered if he was familiar with Dashiel Hammet. Percy had an odd relationship with anything Muggle: at once curious and contemptuous. But Percy was a person who loved knowledge, so curiosity usually won out in the end.

Trying not to think too deeply about her actions, Audrey scooped up the book and added it to her stack. She left the collection at the counter, instructing the clerk to charge them to Brian Sprayberry. She found her brother, reminded him of the fact that they needed to leave, then went to wait outside. Audrey figured she would be less tempted to buy more books if she were not actually in the bookshop, but also that Brian would have less chance to complain about the number of novels she'd picked out if she wasn't around to hear him.

Standing just under the sign, Audrey took careful stock of the street. It was nearly deserted except for two hooded figures that were coming from the Leaky Caldron. Heart in her throat, Audrey gripped her wand under her cloak. Maybe she should rethink her decision to come outside, surely it was safer inside the bookstore. She began backing up, keeping her eye on the pair moving swiftly down the alley, and feeling for the door handle behind her.

"Hey!"

Audrey froze.

One of the figures lowered her hood. It was Alicia Spinnet. After a quick exchange with her companion, both of them hurried over to Flourish and Blotts.

"You're not here alone, are you?" Alicia asked as she reached Audrey's side.

"No," Audrey said. "My brother's inside."

Up close, Audrey could see that the other person was Angelina Johnson, though she didn't lower her hood. Both towered over Audrey, but Angelina was particularly tall. Audrey knew both girls, of course, or at least she knew of them. They were a year behind her at Hogwarts, but the beautiful and outgoing star Chasers of the Gryffindor Quidditch team were hard not to recognize for the average student. Now they were something like colleagues, but meeting them on the street made Audrey feel like she was in school all over again.

"Still, it's not safe to be out in the open on Diagon Alley by yourself," Angelina warned.

"Well…cheers," Audrey stuttered. "I'll just…I'll go inside then."

Alicia put a hand on her elbow and smiled. "You're not alone now, stay for a second."

"Oh." Audrey looked at Alicia's hand. "Okay."

"We were wondering," Angelina said, then pitched her voice low and leaned in, "what is going on with…you know."

Audrey blinked at the tall, black girl, slightly distracted by trying to figure out what was different about her. "Going on? With what? We're just friends if anybody is asking."

Angelina's eyebrow arched elegantly.

Alicia giggled behind her hand. "Um, that's great?"

Oh, Merlin, what had she just said? The realization that Angelina had been (obviously!) asking about the Order of Mercy hit Audrey with the force of a blasting curse. Color flooded Audrey's face. How could she have been so stupid? What was she thinking? Alicia Spinnet and Angelina Johnson must think she was an utter idiot or stark raving mad. They couldn't possibly know about Percy, and even if they did, why would they care? Audrey was certain that these two glamorous women had much more interesting things to worry about than Audrey Sprayberry's…friendship.

"Well," Audrey said, closing her eyes. "That was—You were asking—The answer you wanted, er, I don't know. Hopefully, we will hear from Fleur soon and things will resume."

"Are we all talking about the same thing here?" Angelina asked, her eyebrows puckering.

Audrey sagged. "I have no idea!"

The other two giggled.

"Here comes your brother," Alicia said and pointed through the shop window.

Audrey glanced over her shoulder.

"You should come out with us sometime," Angelina said.

"Absolutely, we're used to being a trio, and we're currently one woman short," Alicia added.

"Bonus if you play Quidditch."

"Oh, um, no," Audrey admitted.

"That's okay," Alicia assured her. "We also like to drink and talk about blokes."

"And we want to hear all about your friend," Angelina added.

Just then Brian stepped out. "Brat, I said three books, not half the damn table."

The girls waved and began to walk away.

"You don't have braids anymore," Audrey blurted. "That's what is different about you."

Angelina's Firewhisky laugh rang out over the quiet cobblestones. "Not in ages and ages."

"Er, well, see you around."

They waved again, linking arms and heading down Diagon Alley to disappear around the corner.

oOo

"Constant vigilance," Bill murmured and tapped the wireless with his wand.

The scratchy feedback faded away to be replaced by a familiar voice. Bill sank into the cushions of the armchair, trying to suppress the groan that wanted to escape him. Despite taking a lie in that morning, and a day of light duty at the bank, Bill still felt creaky the evening after the full moon. Every time he sunk into the comfort of his chair or his bed he found himself making embarrassing noises, like an old man. When he leaned his head against the back of the chair to watch Ron from half-shut eyes, Bill told himself that he did not in any way resemble an octogenarian.

"That's Fred," Ron exclaimed, kneeling before the wireless as if he could crawl right through and shake Fred's hand. "Where's George?"

"Somewhere nearby, no doubt," Bill replied. "But he rarely makes an appearance on Potterwatch."

"Really?"

Bill smirked at his little brother's astonishment.

"Yes, really. Haven't you ever noticed? Fred's the glory hound, George is…." What was the right word? Shy certainly didn't fit, nor quiet. It was simply that George was content to play the supporting role to Fred's attention seeking. It was a subtle difference between the twins, and one that could be easily missed if a person wasn't looking for it. "…George is not Fred."

"I reckon," Ron grunted, turning his attention back to the broadcast.

"Now to Rodent with a guide of useful defensive spells in case you meet any Death Eaters in your journeys," Lee Jordan announced after listing the names of recent disappearances.

"Rodent?" Ron laughed. "Is that Fred?"

"Still don't like that codename, River," came Fred's voice.

"What would you prefer?" Jordan asked. "Rat-face?"

"How about Handsome?"

"I think Rat-face is definitely a more apt description."

Bill and Ron both laughed.

"Fr-Fred was ask-asking for-for that one," Ron stuttered, clutching his stomach.

"Remind me to shake Jordan's hand next time I see him," Bill agreed.

"I could list any number of witches who would disagree with you there, River, but I wouldn't want to put them in jeopardy," Fred replied. "Besides, we have more serious issues at hand. Now, if you meet a Death Eater—"

"Sorry to interrupt, gentlemen," came a new voice.

Bill sat up, staring at the wireless as if an image would appear. That deep, smooth voice was none other than Kingsley Shacklebolt. He'd been largely out of contact since he'd left Shell Cottage in October. Bill couldn't help but wonder how the twins had dug the man up, or if it was the other way around? He wasn't sure of the wisdom in Kingsley appearing on Potterwatch when he was a wanted man himself, but Bill was damn glad to hear his voice.

"Ladies and germs, I'd like to introduce you to our special guest, Royal," Jordan said.

"Cheers, River, and good evening to all of those listening" Kingsley said. "I am sure that, er, Rodent here is about to impart some very useful information, but I want to emphasize how important it is to avoid engaging a Death Eater. Remember, Death Eaters are experienced and lethal duelers. They will not hesitate to torture you, or kill you. If you meet one, your first priority should be escape."

"But if you can't," Fred put in, "there are a few useful tricks you could try…."

The broadcast only went on for a few more minutes. Jordan read the news, grim though it may be. Bill always tried to listen between the lines to try to detect any reference to the Order of Mercy, but there never was. Finally, Jordan invited Kingsley to speak again.

"Thank you again," Kingsley said. "I know that much of the news these days is grim. We haven't heard about Harry Potter since September and many of you feel discouraged. I ask you to remember: no news is good news. Harry is out there fighting for us, we must never lose faith. And if he is out there listening to this somehow, we want you to know that we are with you, Harry. Every step of the way."

Jordan's voice called out his normal sign off, but Bill wasn't listening. Instead, he was watching his youngest brother. Still kneeling before the wireless, Ron's hands were clenched in his lap, his expression frozen. It was no mystery to Bill what had put that pained look on Ron's face—it was the mention of Harry. Wherever Harry was, so too was Hermione, and so should Ron be, but he wasn't. The urge to shake the truth out of Ron was strong, but Bill knew better than that. Patience, Bill had it in spades, but that didn't mean he had to like it.

"Do you suppose I can get my hands on a wireless?" Ron asked quietly.

"Yeah, Dad has loads of them, but why? You can listen to this one."

"For when I go?"

Bill took a moment to respond, then, "Where are you going?"

"To find them." The words were soft and tentative, then a shrug.

"I see. Will this be tomorrow? I fear you'll have to obtain Fleur's approval for that, being her patient and all."

Ron shook his head. "I don't know when." He swallowed hard. "But I have to go."

Again the words were soft, but rock hard. Bill knew what Ron said was true. He didn't have to hear the conviction in his kid brother's voice to know that. As much as Bill wanted Ron to stay safe and sound at Shell Cottage, Bill also knew he couldn't keep him. Whatever these next months held in store for Wizarding Britain, Ron belonged at the heart of it, fighting alongside Harry Potter and Hermione Granger.

"Maybe you should tell me why you left in the first place," Bill said.

Ron looked at Bill for a long moment, then he got up from the floor to cross to the darkened window. "Yeah, I reckon I owe you that much."

Bill summoned enough strength to sit forward, arms braced on his legs, and wait.

"I-I was hurt," Ron began. "After the break in at the Ministry. Splinched. Hermione had to Disapparate us in such a hurry to avoid capture, and well…."

Ron stopped.

"That was back in September?" Bill prompted.

"We hadn't planned to be out on the run, or well, maybe we did. We'd been cozy at Grimmauld Place up until then, and we were planning to return there, but Yaxley was able to grab on when we Disapparated after the break-in so we couldn't stay. Luckily, Hermione had packed a tent in her bag."

Bill lifted his eyebrows. "A tent? In her bag?"

"Yeah, she's got this little beaded bag and it's full of everything we needed…except food. We were dry and sheltered, but we were scavenging for food. And we had to keep on the move, even though I wasn't ready yet. I felt so sick and useless, but I tried not to let them see, you know?"

Ron looked at Bill who could only smirk to himself.

"I think I know a thing or two about that, yeah," Bill said dryly.

"Right. The whole…." Ron motioned to the room at large. "Sorry."

Bill shrugged. "So, you were on a pretty shitty camp out, and what next?"

"We also had a…a magical object…." Ron stopped and stared out the blackened window. His face was screwed into a pained expression. "I-I really shouldn't—"

"Let me guess, whatever this object is has something to do with the mission that Dumbledore gave you?"

"Er, yeah, and I can't tell you anything about it."

"So, you have this big secret….Funny, because I just let you in on a pretty big one of my own."

Ron shot Bill a hot glance. "It's not the same, you know it isn't."

Bill held up a hand. "Just for argument sake, you do realize that I'm probably more than qualified to help Harry on this mission of his, aren't I?"

Ron folded his lips mutinously. "Do you want to hear what I have to say, or not?"

"Alright, alright, carry on."

"So, we were just moving around and I was weak, I was hungry, and…." Ron plopped down on the arm of a chair, staring at the rug between his trainers. There was something else, something he didn't want to admit to. "Anyway," he said at last, "we weren't getting anywhere, and I wasn't feeling…myself. One day we overheard some wizards in a forest, it was Mr. Cresswell and Mr. Tonks—"

"You saw Ted Tonks?" Bill blurted out. "He-he was well? Merlin, Ron, you don't know how Tonks has worried about her dad."

"Yeah, he seemed well enough. Had a couple of goblins with him and one of my classmates, Dean Thomas." Ron swallowed, his eyes suspiciously red rimmed. "Merlin, it was so good to see a familiar face, but of course we couldn't approach them, we just listened for a bit. They were talking a-about Ginny and the Sword of Gryffindor. I'd been so worried, you know, for all of you. And then Ginny does something so bloody mental!"

Bill snorted. "Yeah, because Ginny's the rash one."

"Well, she is…for a girl. Anyway, all these…feelings I'd been having…they just seemed more intense and I fought with Harry…and I left."

Bill was silent for an entire minute while Ron continued to stare at his shoes. From that second night Ron was in his home, Bill had known that his little brother had done something stupid. Yet, some part of Bill's mind must have clung to the hope that Ron was nobly stupid. Apparently, Ron was just a run of the mill idiot.

"Dammit, Ron," Bill muttered. "Do repeat that please."

Ron grimaced. "I walked out on them—Harry and Hermione—I just left."

Springing from his chair, Bill kicked at the end table and swore loudly.

"You always were a daft git," Bill snarled and Ron flinched.

Any number of choice names came to Bill's mind. He could give Ron a hell of a telling off, if his words weren't currently failing him. There were things in this world that Bill did not question: Mum's cooking, Egypt's heat, Fleur's beauty, and Ron's steadfastness. Ron had many faults, but he was loyal. Harry, Ron and Hermione, they were a unit. Harry had the nerve, Hermione the brains, and Ron the heart, but the bloody prat had taken the heart right out that unit, hadn't he?

"I tried to go back!" Ron exclaimed. He, too, leapt to his feet, hands spread wide. "But I was jumped by Snatchers. By the time I escaped—and splinched myself in the process—they were already gone. Anyway, I came here because I couldn't face Mum and Dad and the twins and-and Ginny…she…she'd hate me."

After that last proclamation, Ron let his head drop. He looked defeated with his shoulders slumped and tears leaking down his long nose. Bill stood with his hands on his hips, surveying his baby brother. There was so much Bill wanted to say in that moment: accusations, admonishments, vitriol. He could taste the words in his mouth where they died.

"I can't say that I'm not disappointed," Bill said, his voice even.

Ron looked at Bill through his fringe.

"What you did…." Bill shook his head. "But if you're serious about finding them and going back, then I reckon that shows a lot of courage."

Ron blew out a long breath.

"However," Bill continued, "before you can go back you need to make sure you are one hundred and ten percent committed. There won't be any third chances after this."

Looking his brother in the face, Ron said, "I know, Bill. Trust me I do. I'm a screw up, I know, but there is nothing in this world I want more than to make this right."

"You're not a screw up, Ron, no more than the rest of us."

"When have you ever screwed up? This isn't the first time I turned my back on Harry, is it? We had a big fight when he got chosen for Tri-Wizard Champion just because I was so jealous. This time…I don't know, Bill." Ron's forehead wrinkled, and his ears turned red. "I can't explain it. I-I was just so angry and worried and I felt…. Well, I felt like I was the worst version of me."

Again Bill wondered about this magical object Harry, Ron, and Hermione had along with them. He knew there was no point in asking Ron about it again; it had become obvious that he wasn't going to offer any information on that front. So, Bill could only deduce that whatever it was held dark magic, which would make sense if it was somehow linked to You-Know-Who.

"Maybe I can help you prepare for your return," Bill said. "Do you have any idea where they might be?"

Ron shook his head. " They could be anywhere."

"Lets get a map and start narrowing down the options, shall we?"

oOo

Later that night, after Seth went to bed, Audrey lie on the couch with one of her romances, a nice historical about a wizard who gives up the Dark Arts for his one true love, the innocent and simpering Muggle-born witch. He was very domineering, but the girl was only submissive in the bedroom where he gave her magical orgasms. If Audrey was honest, these were her favorite stories. It helped that the cover model kept tearing his shirt off to reveal a rippling chest.

Yawning, she folded one corner of the page down and set it on the coffee table, but before going to sleep, she pulled out the old copy of The Maltese Falcon. Why did she buy this? And what was she going to do with it? She'd told Percy more than once that gifts were against the rules, and that included Christmas. Was an old book really a gift?

It was to somebody like Percy, to somebody like herself.

She liked Percy. Clasping the book to her chest, Audrey closed her eyes. She fancied Percy, and it was becoming harder and harder to hide it from herself, or from him. He was kind and funny in his awkward fashion. He got bent out of shape over the silliest things and Audrey loved making him crazy by moving his briefcase while he wasn't looking or squeezing the toothpaste from the middle. Their best shags often came right after some lecture about hanging up the towel instead of leaving it on the floor. Honestly, he probably thought her manners were atrocious when really she just liked winding him up.

And he really paid attention to her. He would stop reading his book or report to listen to what she had to say. Sometimes he even asked her opinion, even on work-related issues. Percy was nothing if not a hard worker, even when his boss was a Death Eater and he hated his job. None of that mattered though. It was still early in their relationship, or whatever this was. Given enough time, Audrey would become nothing but an annoyance to him. Or perhaps he'd just take her for granted.

Either way, Audrey didn't really want to stick around for that to happen. She should have known better than to start up this mad friendship with Percy. She should have known it would end in heartbreak.

oOo

Much later, when Bill crawled into bed with Fleur, his mind was still racing with all the information he'd managed to glean off Ron. On the map, they'd marked all the places Ron could remember camping out. When Bill stepped back to look at all those tiny, red X's drawn on the British Isle, he could discern no pattern that might give them a clue as to where Harry and Hermione were likely to turn up next. Bill supposed that was good news. If he couldn't track them with Ron's help, then it was unlikely the Death Eaters could.

Then Bill asked if Ron had any knowledge of a plan, or if they knew what else they needed to accomplish on Dumbledore's mission. It required reading between the lines and understanding teenage mumbling, but from what Bill could reckon there were other objects that Harry needed to find, but that they had no plan for finding them. Or maybe they had no idea where to look? Ron would get vague any time Bill tried to talk to him about the mission. Either way, it was disheartening.

Lying on his back, Bill folded one arm behind his head. He was tired, damned tired, but his mind wouldn't turn off. It kept circling back to this magical object that Harry, Ron, and Hermione had with them. Ron hadn't mentioned it again, nor had Bill figured out a way to ask about it without pissing off his brother.

"I can hear you zinking," Fleur murmured. She rolled towards him, nestling her head onto his shoulder and hooking her leg over his.

"Did you hear any of my talk with Ron tonight?" Bill asked.

Fleur sniffed indignantly. "I do not listen at doors."

Which was a blatant lie. As an only child for a good part of her childhood, Fleur had made up many games to amuse herself. Her favorite was eavesdropping on her parents' dinner guests, but Fleur would only admit to that after a bottle of wine. Otherwise she acted as if it were the height of bad manners.

"He is a fool, non?" Fleur said. "I zought you did an admirable job of not murdering him."

Bill chuckled softly. "Cheers. Eldest brother, you know, lots of practice at suppressing murderous impulses." He smoothed his hand over her hair, the brief levity slipping away. "Did you hear him say that they had some sort of magical object?"

"I zink so? What are you zinking?"

"That it's probably a dark object. That maybe it's something they need to destroy You-Know-Who."

"Or maybe it belonged to him?" Fleur suggested.

Bill shivered. That possibility had occurred to him as well. Neither option was particularly palatable. Bill had spent the last decade studying and destroying objects imbued with dark magic, and they were never pleasant. In fact, they were dangerous, and not just because they could cause death or injury. Dark magic had a way of poisoning a person's thinking, even perverting their soul if their exposure was too long. Look at what happened to Ginny when she had that damned diary.

Tom Riddle's diary. You-Know-Who's diary.

Bill had known it was dark magic, very dark and very ancient. At the time, Bill had researched what kind of curse or hex could have created something as powerful as that diary. He'd come up with a few options, but without more specifics he was never sure, and Ginny had been short on details about its destruction. Could this object Harry, Ron, and Hermione had with them be as powerful as the diary? Could it be the same kind of cursed object?

"What are you zinking?" Fleur asked again. She shifted so that she could look at him.

"I-I am not sure," Bill admitted.

"Do not keep me out, Bill."

"What? No, I'm not. My thoughts…they're just not coherent yet."

"Zen talk to me, please. Maybe I can help you."

"It's just…Ron's rash, yes, but I don't see him leaving Harry and Hermione when the stakes are so high."

"Stakes? Steaks?"

Bill chuckled. "It's an expression." He shook his head. "Never mind. I just meant that I don't think Ron would leave. He stayed by Harry's side through the Battle of the Ministry and the Battle of the Astronomy Tower. He sacrificed himself for Harry back in his first year. Ron's the guy you want at your side when…." He'd been about to say "when the chips were down," but figured Fleur wouldn't understand that idiom either.

"I zink I understand," she said. "And I zink you are right. It was zee dark object maybe? It made him leave? Zat is what you zink, n'est-ce pas? "

"Maybe."

"Hm." Fleur tucked her head down, her fingers playing over his chest. "Maybe Ron needs some lessons on how to resist dark magic."

"You're a brilliant witch, you know that?"

"Mais oui. Were you foolish enough to doubt?"

Bill chuckled. "Maybe he needs lessons on how to resist the Veela allure while we're at it?"

Fleur sat up. "He does not need any lessons, he already knows how."

"Oh, and when did this happen?"

"I am not sure." She swung her leg over Bill's waist so that she was straddling him.

"And what is the trick then? Maybe I should take lessons from him." Bill linked his fingers through Fleur's.

"It is love, of course, you silly man." Fleur leaned down to kiss him. "Ron loves Hermione, and now my paltry magic holds no sway over him."

Her hair hung down like a curtain around them. "What about me?" Bill whispered. "What happens when the one you love is the Veela?"

"Magic, of course." She kissed him.

Chapter 28

If Diagon Alley was bleak, Hogsmeade was downright depressing. Percy tried not to think about that as he and Nigel Livingston from the Census Office moved from business to business trying to determine how many wizards still lived in the historical village. This was the first of many assignments. It would seem the Ministry was trying to keep better tabs on the whereabouts of their citizens. Perhaps it was to ensure that no Muggle-borns fell through the cracks, or to ease the job of the Snatchers. Percy told himself that having an accurate accounting of the magical population would aid relief efforts when the war ended. He also told himself that nobody in the Ministry of Magic needed to see that accounting until a new regime took office.

In his heavy boots, his thick cloak swirling just above the snow packed street, Percy didn't feel the imminent fear that came over him on Diagon Alley—not that Hogsmeade was safe, he knew it wasn't. Death Eaters had been lurking around these parts since before the Hogwarts term began, keeping a look out for the elusive Harry Potter and Hermione Granger. Packs of Snatchers and werewolves roved the streets after nightfall, the one charged with enforcing the curfew, the other to claim random victims. Even now, in broad daylight, any eye that Percy caught belonged to some ruffian sizing him up. What was missing were the good people of Hogsmeade. Hardworking witches and wizards, many of whom had called this place home for generations. And the students. No Hogsmeade weekends for Ginny and the children stuck up in the castle this year.

Percy glanced in the direction of Hogwarts. Through the dense clouds, he could make out Gryffindor Tower. Was Ginny safely in her room? Was she in classes? Secure under the eye of McGonagall or Flitwick? What was it like to have classes taught by Death Eaters? Plenty of rumors were circling the Ministry about what was happening at Hogwarts. Out and out rebellion was what folks whispered behind their hands. If that were true—and Percy wasn't sure if he hoped it was or not—he had no doubt who was at the heart of it all.

Merlin, he hoped Ginny was safe. Though that prayer was futile. Of course she wasn't safe. Even if she was being a good and obedient girl, something that Percy found hard to believe, she wouldn't be safe. But at least Ginny was a sixth year, she was nearly a fully qualified witch with years of Defense Against the Dark Arts training. At least he didn't have to worry about an even younger sibling, like Oliver did with Alex.

Percy wished he could say he didn't know how Oliver felt, but that was unfortunately untrue. All Percy had to do was remember the sick feeling he had when Ginny was taken into the Chamber of Secrets to know even a little of what his best mate was going through. The impotency, the rage, the sorrow. Percy had never truly known failure until the moment McGonagall told him about Ginny. He had failed her, Ron, the twins, Bill, and Charlie. It was on him to keep an eye after Ginny and he'd lost her. For that reason, Percy didn't say anything to Oliver about Hogwarts.

More than likely, Oliver already knew about the rumors. Not just the rebellion—something Percy believed was the responsibility of the older students—but the other tales, too. Stories of torture used as punishment, of Unforgivables being demonstrated in classes, on students. Percy liked to believe that even Death Eaters wouldn't subject children as young as Alex Wood to such treatment, and maybe that's what Oliver told himself, but deep down Percy knew that these were unconscionable fiends. They were devoid of compassion or kindness, how could they not be? They didn't see innocent children so much as chattel.

But staring at the castle wasn't going to keep Ginny or Alex safe. That power now lie with Harry Potter, wherever he was.

"Ah, finally, last blasted place on the list," Livingston said.

Percy looked up to see McBloom & McMuck, a florist. Instantly, his mind turned to Audrey. He could just imagine what she would say if he bought her flowers: Get it through your thick skull, Gryffindor, I am not your girlfriend. He thought maybe he was making progress on that front, but they were not at the point where bouquets would be appropriate.

Still, as Livingston conducted the interview, Percy milled around the store. It seemed rather picked over, a few potted plants and the saddest cut flowers Percy had ever seen. He supposed romance was not much in the air these days. There was a small counter with baubles and costume jewelry, and Percy found himself standing in front of it with Audrey on his mind once again.

On a row of small hooks were some simple, silver pendant necklaces. Most of them were plain, just a monogram stamped into a round amulet or a unicorn charm more suited for a child, but one caught his attention—a tiny, oval terrarium with a red flower blooming inside of it. It was the red that caught his eye, a deep scarlet. Percy carefully grasped the oval so that his fingers wouldn't smudge the glass and brought it to his eye. Upon closer inspection, he could see that at its heart the flower had a splotch of black, as if a quill had blotted it.

"It's an Everlasting Poppy."

Percy jumped, dropping the pendant.

"So sorry, didn't mean to startle." An old man stood on the other side of the counter, dirt streaked on his creased face, one set of glasses magnified his enormous blue eyes, a second set perched at the end of his nose.

"No worries," Percy replied, and smoothed his robes.

"It's a pretty piece," the old man said. "I tried a number of different plants before hitting upon the Everlasting Poppy. Most just withered and died, some dulled in time. Not the poppy, she looks fragile but she's a resilient one. Thrives in her own little world, blooming anew each day."

Percy stared at the pendant for a moment longer, then blurted, "How much?"

"Five galleons."

It was highway robbery!

"I'll take it." Percy pulled the Galleons from his pouch and shoved them into the man's hand. What was he doing? Hadn't Audrey said repeatedly not to buy her gifts? If a bouquet was inappropriate, then a necklace was unseemly. Hadn't she said, not a week ago, they were not exchanging Christmas gifts. He was a fool!

Fool he may be, but Percy found himself standing on the snow packed streets of Hogsmeade with a long, narrow box tucked into his breast pocket.

"Didn't know you had a girlfriend," Livingston said as he adjusted his muffler.

"I don't," Percy replied, and walked away.

oOo

"Alright, you bragged over the summer that you could produce a Patronus," Bill said to Ron. The elder brother lazily swished his wand around, creating a trail of silvery mist from the tip. "Let's see you do it."

Just beyond Fleur's raised garden boxes, Bill and Ron stood in jumpers and caps. On the porch, Fleur huddled under heavy woolen sweaters and cloaks, mittens on her hands, a woolen hat pulled to her eyes, and a scarf covering her nose. It was another gray, English day, but at least the wind off the sea was not too blustery. Fleur picked up her mug of tea, feeling its warmth seep through her mittens. Perhaps this was why the English were so obsessed with the blasted stuff, to ward off the cold.

Ron gave Bill a hard, sidelong glance, looked up at the porch, and mumbled, "Alright. Just…." He closed his eyes, took a deep breath then bellowed, "Expecto Patronum!"

Nothing happened.

Ron opened his eyes. "Let me try that again." He took a moment to center himself, rolling his shoulders, before shouting out the incantation once again, to the same effect. Once, twice, three more times. Nothing.

"Impressive," Bill said, and Fleur could hear the smirk in his tone. "You know that you have to conjure up a happy memory, right?"

Ron gave Bill a shove. "Shut it, prat, just—don't look at me!"

"Perhaps it would be easier for poor Ron if you were not being so much an arsehole," Fleur shouted.

"I didn't ask for your two Knuts!" Bill called back with a laugh. He looked at Ron with a half grin. "She learned how to correctly pronounce all the English swear words with undue speed."

"Let me try again, and this time don't watch," Ron said.

Dutifully, Bill covered his eyes. It must be very difficult for Ron, wanting so badly to impress his elder brother but fearing failure. How could he possibly succeed with so much self-doubt eating away at him? This was very much how Fleur had come to feel about her own Veela magic. It was humbling to share one's weakness with another, and yet humanizing. As she watched Ron prepare himself to try again, she did not see the bumbling boy who drove her mad with his bad manners, she saw a young man determined to overcome adversity. She liked his spirit and resolved to find the same inside herself.

With his feet planted far apart and his shoulders squared, Ron declared, "Expecto Patronum!"

Silvery light shot out from the end of Ron's wand, slowly forming into a small dog. It made eager figure eights around the brothers' legs, Ron beaming proudly. Bill opened his eyes, crowing with delight at the silvery dog that was now sitting at his feet, its tongue hanging out of his mouth.

"Very nice," Bill said with as big a smile as his mouth would spread into. He clapped Ron on the back. "The Patronus Charm is a very important tool for—"

"Wait!" Ron said. "Let's see you do it."

"You've seen my Patronus," Bill said with a flick of his hand. "And we're here—"

"Well, then…." Ron crossed his arms over his chest and waited.

Rotating his wand, a silvery lion leaped from its end, shaking its mane. Bill directed his wand towards Fleur, and the great cat charged at the porch, coming to rest at Fleur's feet. He stood nearly to Fleur's chest, his mane a majestic crown and his tale long and twitching. Fleur felt the force of Bill's happy thoughts radiating from the silvery lion, wrapping her in their warmth and love.

"Your turn," Bill called.

"I am too cold to zink happy zings," Fleur shouted, her voice still muffled by the scarf.

"Then think warm thoughts. Like last night when—"

Whipping out her wand, Fleur set a silencing charm on her husband, robbing him of his voice and whatever scandalous thing he was about to say. As Bill's lips continued to move without sound coming out, Ron fell into a fit of giggles. With a scowl, Bill pointed his wand at himself and ended the spell.

"Very nice wand work, but I was going to say how I built up the fire in our room and brought you a hot chocolate to keep you warm. What did you think I was going to say?"

Ron snickered. Fleur crossed her arms stubbornly.

"Ah, I see," Bill said. "You have a very dirty mind, Mrs. Weasley."

Ron made a face. "Ugh, it's like you're accusing Mum of having impure thoughts."

"She must have done…at least six times," Bill said.

"Argh!"

"And haven't you ever noticed how Dad calls Mum 'Mollywobbles' every Sunday morning? I'm pretty sure that Saturday night is their night."

"Ahhhh!"

"Did you think your birth was the result of immaculate conception?"

Ron covered his ears. "Shut it! Shut it!"

Bill laughed. "At least you don't have to spend your life pretending to have been born prematurely like me. Eldest brothers always get the worst of it."

"Let's talk about Patroni," Ron insisted.

"Patronuses," Bill corrected. He clapped his hands together, his mood changing instantly. "Alright. As I was saying before, the Patronus is a powerful weapon in fighting off Dark creatures, but it can help to fight the affects of Dark magic as well."

With a hand on Ron's back, Bill steered him back to the porch. Fleur handed each of them a mug of tea and Bill picked up his leather-bound journal. It was imbued with Undetectable Extension and Gemino charms so that it would add five more pages every time one was filled but never appear any larger. Ron plopped into the chair next to Fleur's, staring up at his brother expectantly.

"When I was first sent to Egypt," Bill said, leaning against the rail of the porch, one foot crossed over the other, "I was assigned a mentor, an Indian man by way of London named Abhay Chadhu. Officially, his job was to hone my curse breaking skills and teach me to properly research—"

"You have to do research?" Ron asked, curling his lip.

Bill sent him a quelling look. "Yes, of course, I'm dealing with ancient magic, often times unseen for centuries, how else am I to identify it and find the proper counter-curse?"

"I dunno," Ron said. "I thought your job was exciting, now it just sounds like school."

Bill rolled his eyes. "May I continue?"

"Sure, go ahead."

"Cheers, prat. As I was saying, Abhay taught me how to deal with the residual influences of a curse. When a curse is broken, its magic no longer has an effect on you, but there are many times that a Curse Breaker has to deal with a cursed object for days or weeks while the proper counter-curse is found. Spending that much time with a cursed object can have a very negative effect on the person nearest to it."

"Tell me about it," Ron muttered.

Bill seemed to ignore Ron's comment, but Fleur could see how he took it in and filed it away. Her husband, he was very smart. He was always searching for clues, saving small bits of information for later use. Every moment, he was looking for answers to Ron's story and piecing them together.

"The first thing Abhay taught me was how to utilize the Patronus," Bill continued. He opened his journal and used a sorting spell to find the page he was searching for. "The Patronus's power is derived from a single happy thought. By conjuring one, you have to push away your dark thoughts and concentrate on the light."

"That's not so easy," Ron said, sitting up a little straighter.

"No," Bill said with a careful expression, "it isn't. It's also not something that's easy to practice. Abhay kept a cursed amulet around just for that, it had the unfortunate ability to suck the hope and happiness right out of you. We don't have anything like that, so Fleur is going to try to make you feel miserable."

Ron looked at Fleur, his eyes big and his ears red. "How-how—"

"Eloquently put," Bill drawled. "She's going to insult your intelligence and manhood until you cry."

Fleur pursed her lips under her scarf. "I will not. I will try to use my Veela magic to influence your mood, but it will probably not work."

"I have faith in you," Bill said. She looked up at him and saw sincerity warm in his eyes. A blush settled over her features, feeling both very pleased and very exposed.

"Not miserable," Ron blurted. His ears turned scarlet when both of his companions looked at him. "Er, well…miserable is what I've felt since I left."

"And how did you feel then?" Bill asked. The question was vague so that Ron could feel that he was not overstepping any boundaries by answering it.

"Jealous," Ron said without hesitation. "Inadequate. Angry."

oOo

The sea crashed against the beach, and gulls called overhead while Bill stared at his brother. That was a rather specific, and intimate, list of emotions. Ron had said that he felt like the worst version of himself, and he hadn't been exaggerating. Jealousy, inadequacy, anger, those were the demons that lurked inside Ron's head in unguarded moments. Whatever this cursed object was, it had drilled deep into Ron's psyche and manipulated it. Just as the diary had with Ginny?

The more he thought on it, the more Bill was convinced that the diary and whatever Ron was dealing with were connected. And that it was the worst kind of Dark Magic. At the time, Bill was unable to find much information relating to the diary or what kind of magic could bring a memory to life. He'd assumed it was very rare magic, and that was probably true. Now Bill wondered if the magic behind it was so evil that past wizards had taken care to remove every mention of it from existence. Except, of course, that was an impossible task. Knowledge could never be erased, not fully. It always had a way of resurfacing eventually.

But why, if this terrible evil had to show up again, did it have to involve the Weasleys? And why did it have to be Ron and Ginny? Bill felt sick at the idea of such malevolence touching his youngest brother and sister. Why couldn't it have been him, if it had to be anybody? He was trained to deal with ancient evils, he knew how to throw off their effects.

Bill could rage all he wanted, but he couldn't change the nature of war. Something Remus said not very many days ago played again in his head: war was a temperamental goddess. She didn't care whose life or innocence she stole. She was blind to youth or goodness or worthiness. Hadn't Bill already known that? He'd told himself that he did when he joined the Order of the Phoenix. After all, hadn't he lost his young and worthy uncles to the last war? Bill had known all too well the capriciousness of war, hadn't he?

Yet life seemed ever ready to mock Bill at each turn. Knowing that good men died was not the same as watching his friends be murdered. Wishing to preserve his baby sister's life and innocence wasn't the same as living with a face that was torn to shreds and chronic illness. And the desire to help Ron was not the same as shouldering the burden for him.

"Bill?"

Fleur's mittened hand was on his thigh, and she was peering up at him with concern in her eyes. He offered her a smile, willing it to shine in his eyes, but knowing it was futile. He didn't need his wife taking his hand in hers to tell him that the smile fell short, he could feel it in his heart. It was as though a weight was in it, dragging it down to his stomach and displacing all of his organs as it went. He felt bloated with worry, out of sorts in his own body.

"We can do zis another day," Fleur said.

Ron was looking at Bill with a furrowed brow.

"Of course not, don't be silly," Bill scoffed. "What do you need, love?"

Fleur folded her hands in her lap. "A little time and space, s'il te plaît." She eyed Bill for a moment. "Perhaps you should go…away. I do not want to affect you as well."

Bill retreated to the garden with his own thoughts, but watching Fleur provided distraction from all of his worries. Neither one of them were sure that Fleur could pull this off. Recently she had gained more control over her Veela magic, but forcing a seed to sprout was a far cry from manipulating emotions.

"Sit here," Fleur instructed Ron, pointing to the floor near her chair.

Ron did as he was told, and Fleur took his hands.

"Do not stare at me!"

"Oh, sorry," Ron muttered, and Bill chuckled to himself.

For a few minutes, nothing happened, but then Bill wasn't sure what he should be expecting. He'd not encountered Veela in Egypt—their colonies were mostly centered from France to Bulgaria, though there were reports of Veela in the Amazon. His only practical experience with Veela was Fleur herself, as well as her mother and sister. There was always an aura of magic around Fleur, though it wasn't usually visible. Being exposed to it every day, as he was, Bill was more or less immune to its effects. The only time he'd seen it flare up was at their wedding when her happiness glowed off of her, reflecting on all those around.

He'd also seen Gabrielle use her magic as a shield when their wedding had turned into a battlefield. The scared little girl had sat under a table, screaming her head off, encased in a shimmering bubble of protection, her silvery hair levitating in all directions. It had been one of the most incredible displays of magic Bill had ever seen. Perhaps Gabrielle had a bout of accidental witch's magic, but Fleur had felt sure that it was the Veela magic that had protected her sister.

Now Bill wondered if Fleur would radiate light or color as she attempted to control Ron's emotions. But there seemed to be no difference, and after a few moments, Fleur's head came up as she searched out Bill's eyes.

"I do not zink zis is working," she called.

"No, it is," Ron insisted. He shook himself. "I can feel it, just a little. Keep going."

A few more moments stretched out in which it seemed nothing happened except that Ron's shoulders curled in on themselves. Bill shoved his hands in his pockets, forcing himself to stay put. He didn't like watching Ron suffer. Hell, Bill didn't like being the one to force Ron through it. Though, his baby brother seemed keen enough to volunteer, which said a lot about Ron's dedication to returning to Harry and Hermione.

When he could stand it no more, Bill took long strides up to the porch, bounding up the stairs to kneel beside his brother. Ron's face was pale, his mouth drawn into a grimace, his eyes closed. When Bill placed his hand on Ron's shoulder, the younger man leaned into it.

"All right, Fleur," Bill murmured and watched as Ron's hands slid out of hers.

"It's not the same," Ron rasped. "Still shitty though."

Bill smiled grimly. "Best we got, I'm afraid. Now, where's your wand?"

"Here." Ron pulled it from his back pocket.

"You'll blow an arse cheek off that way, you know?"

Ron didn't smile, but he opened his eyes.

"I know it's hard," Bill started, "but I need you to clear your mind."

Ron's brow furrowed, but he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Now," Bill said, concentrating on making his voice low and soothing. "All those negative feelings, you have to shove them aside. Visualize them, if you can, pretend they are red and green ghouls that must be shoved back in the attic."

"That's stupid," Ron mumbled.

"Do you want my help or not?"

Ron made a face, but he shut it.

"Alright, ghouls in the attic?"

"Yeah, yeah."

Bill smiled slightly at the look of disgust on his baby brother's face. Silence settled over the porch, Ron's face stretched tight as he fought back his demons. There was nothing easy about what Bill was asking Ron to do, and he didn't expect him to be successful the first time around. As a young man—hell, as a snot-nosed kid in a foreign country, it had taken Bill months to master his own thoughts, let alone produce a Patronus. He could remember how alone he felt, how shaken his confidence had been. Bill's brothers and friends liked to take the mickey, call him the golden boy, but there was some truth to it. He was the eldest, the one his mum relied on at home. Then he went to Hogwarts where he was a star in class, and popular with his classmates. Quidditch was the only thing he'd ever struggled with—he'd been a dismal Chaser compared to the Wood brothers. Bill got to Egypt and discovered that he was not nearly as brilliant as he thought he was.

That first blush of inadequacy had stayed with Bill for years, pushing him to work harder to prove himself. It was funny how negative feelings stayed with a person, like a nagging voice in the back of his mind. Abhay's teachings helped him deal with the after effects of Dark magic, but they had also taught Bill to overcome his own feelings of meagerness. The power of the single happy thought. It was more than a cloying aphorism; it was a candle in a dark window. Harnessing its power could mean the difference between life and death, literally. While in Egypt, Bill had known two Curse Breakers who committed suicide after prolonged exposure to a cursed object.

Unfortunately, Bill did not think he would have the time to teach Ron much more than how to clear his mind. Probably sooner rather than later, Ron would take off after Harry and Hermione, then who knew when Bill would see his little brother again? All Bill could hope was to instill a bit of confidence in Ron.

"Bill."

Fleur's soft voice pulled Bill out of his thoughts. He glanced at his wife, then back at Ron. "What is it, love?"

"I zink…I want to go inside."

"Alright."

She was probably right. This lesson was done for the day.

"Ronnie," Bill said, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder. "You alright?"

"'m alright," Ron muttered, shaking his head.

"Here, let me—" Bill pulled out his wand to cast his Patronus. Another person's Patronus wasn't as helpful in forcing away the negative emotions, but it helped. Drawing up the memory of his wedding, Bill looked at Fleur, but the thought fled. "Fleur?"

Looking at her properly, Bill could see the paleness of her skin beneath the glow of magic. It wasn't easy to discern, her Veela charm masked little imperfections, but Bill had learned how to see beyond the magic. Pushing off the porch floor, stepping around his brother, Bill went to his wife's side. He pulled the hat from her head, pressing his hand against her skin. She was warm, but not feverish.

"Are you ill?" he murmured.

Fleur shook her head. "Non, non." She sank into her chair bonelessly.

"What is it, love?"

Merlin, all Bill wanted to do was scoop her up and take her inside, but he knew his arm would never support her weight. He had to beat back a spurt of irritation at his own limits. Now was not the time to lament all the things his injuries robbed him of, he had to think of Fleur.

"It is just…." Fleur waved her hand elegantly through the air. "It is zee magic. It takes so much strength."

"What do you need?"

"Bill?" Ron was standing on shaky legs behind his elder brother. "What can I do?"

"I need to lie down," Fleur answered.

"Alright. I'll make you some tea," Bill said.

"Bah!" Fleur scowled. "I am French, Bill, tea does not fix me."

Bill chuckled, taking his wife's arm. "Wine then."

"Trés bien," Fleur said approvingly as Ron and Bill helped her to stand. "Red is better for maladies such as this."

"Sorry, Fleur," Ron mumbled. "We don't have to do this again."

She smiled, touching Ron's cheek. "Nonsense. I must learn to overcome this weakness, oui?"

Bill rather agreed with Ron on this account, but he wasn't going to mention that to Fleur quite yet. He might be a newlywed, but he knew enough of women to know when to keep his mouth shut. This was definitely one of those times. Telling Fleur she wasn't strong enough to do something definitely wouldn't go over well.

"Help me get her up to bed," Bill said to Ron, motioning to the backdoor.

Chapter 29

The curtains were still pulled, casting Percy's room in semi-darkness, but one glance at the Tempus charm told Audrey that her lover was long gone to work. Stretching lazily, Audrey burrowed down into the blankets, loath to leave their warmth. What was she going to do with her day off from the department store? Percy would be gone until after dinner, no doubt. Fleur was still keeping mysteriously mum at Shell Cottage. It worried Audrey somewhat, not seeing her best friend for so long, but Percy had told her that he'd seen Bill a few times on Diagon Alley.

Finally, Audrey's bladder made staying in bed impossible, and she rolled out from under the counterpane into the cool air. Yanking Percy's dressing gown around her, she scurried off to the toilet, and then a nice, hot shower. Or maybe breakfast first, even showering was better on a full stomach.

While she waited for her porridge to come to a boil, Audrey noticed that Percy had saved her that morning's copy of The Quibbler. Next to a laughable headline claiming the existence of the Loch Ness Monster (everybody knew that was a case of Muggle baiting) was a headline decrying the imprisonment of Muggle-borns in Azkaban. It was easy to dismiss the likes of Xenophilius Lovegood as absurd, but Audrey knew all too well what it was like to have an eccentric father. Of course, her father published his fantastical theories in learned tomes for other scholars.

Audrey set the paper aside, opting to read more of her novel over her bowl. Sitting at the table, trying to keep the pages of the book open with one hand, and spooning porridge into her mouth with the other, Audrey stared at the settee. She'd charmed it into a red and gold stripe that Percy said reminded him of the Gryffindor common room. Maybe she could conjure up some throw pillows for it, or buy him some if she had anything left over from her paycheck. Still, the flat looked a bit drab, it needed a few personal touches. They'd spent the entire previous night reading on that sofa together. Audrey had placed her feet in Percy's lap so he could rub them, which he did without complaint. When she fell asleep, he'd gently coaxed her into bed without even the slightest lascivious intention.

After her shower, Audrey opened Percy's clothes press and Summoned the boxes she knew were stowed in the back. The first was full of jumpers. He'd unpacked several recently, but she knew that box was still quite full and pushed it back. The other box was full of bits of Percy. She placed a Locomotion charm on the box and floated it into the sitting room. She sat cross-legged on the floor, staring at the lid.

Audrey knew she shouldn't open this box. It contained artifacts of Percy's past life. Mementoes that, she thought, reminded him of his shame. It wasn't exactly something they spoke of, his estrangement from his family. Percy was the type to brood over his mistakes, and what greater mistake could he have made beyond walking out on his family? Every reminder of that moment—the one that he couldn't take back—must feel like salt in the wound. So he packed them away, living in this drab little apartment with no clues as to who he was, how he loved, what made him happy. Some part of Audrey had been intent on shaking that up from the moment she first walked into his flat.

There hadn't been any grand plan; mostly she simply acted on whim. She bullied him into buying new bedding, a few pieces of furniture, the kinds of things that made a space livable. But no flat was truly homely without some personal touches—books on the shelves, pictures on the mantel, that sort of thing.

The sort of thing found in the box sitting before Audrey. If she opened this box and set a few keepsakes about the sitting room, it could be just the thing to finally make Percy face his past. Maybe he would even decide to return home before he got himself killed. More likely, however, it would probably piss him off. Audrey knew she was risking angering Percy, that he might even break off this…thing they had going on.

So be it. If she could manage to push the obstinate Gryffindor back into his family's bosom, then Audrey supposed it would all be worth it. Maybe it could be her final act of friendship, even if he didn't see it that way.

Pulling off the lid, Audrey put to one side a stack of letters tied with a blue ribbon. She recognized that ribbon, she'd envied it enough times as it tied up Penelope Clearwater's perfect ponytail. Wretch, how disgustingly sentimental. Clearing aside a stack of rolled parchments that she assumed were old Hogwarts' assignments (did he keep them all?), Audrey pulled out a stack of books. Not surprisingly, Percy hadn't kept any of the Gilderoy Lockhart books, nor any of the basic spell books that had probably been passed down to his younger brothers. There was a battered copy of Hogwarts: A History, well-used volumes from Arithmancy and Ancient Runes. With her wand, Audrey floated those books to the bookcase and placed them on the bottom shelf.

Under all those heavy textbooks, Audrey found what she was looking for: novels. There were a number of biographies and histories, but there was also about a dozen mysteries and even a few issues of The Adventures of Martin Miggs, the Mad Muggle. Leaving Martin Miggs in the box, Audrey walked the others to the bookcase and arranged them on the second and third shelves. Frankly, the top shelf was a bit out of her reach.

Returning to the box, Audrey found three photos in plain wood frames. The first was of the entire Weasley clan in front of a pyramid (she laughed at Bill wearing a fez). The second was of Percy and Oliver after Gryffindor won the Quidditch Cup, Audrey would guess. A sweaty and disheveled Oliver, still in uniform, kept pumping his fist in the air while a grinning Percy slung his arm over the other boy's shoulders. The third was of Penelope. Taking out her wand, Audrey gilded the frames of the first two and arranged them on the mantle. The other she stuffed back into the box.

The remainder of the box was an odd assortment of broken quills, an old teddy bear, and bits of parchment. However, there were his Prefect and Head Boy badges to consider. Audrey could remember Penelope holding court in the common room, bragging about her boyfriend, the Head Boy. By all accounts, Percy had been proud of his accomplishments. As well he should be. One did not become Head Boy by skiving off.

Cupping the tarnished silver pins in her hand, Audrey traced the "HB" with her finger. Did a grown man display his old school things? He had a Gryffindor banner, and she wasn't about to hang that up, so what should she do with the badges? If they were hers, Audrey would keep them in her jewelry box along with the pearl necklace her parents gave her as a graduation gift and the opal ring that Granny gave her on her eleventh birthday. As far as she knew, Percy didn't have anything like that. Every night he placed his gold watch and money pouch in a small dish on top of his bureau.

Flicking her wand, the letters and whatnot jumped back into the box that then zoomed back to the bedroom. Audrey surveyed her handiwork. Not bad. She would probably fuss with the placement a bit, but the overall effect was a great improvement. This looked like a flat that was lived in by a man who loved to learn, who loved to read, and loved his friends and family.

But would he appreciate having all of this dragged out? And was he forgiving?

oOo

A pink, paper airplane zipped into the outer office of the Minister of Magic, crashed into the forehead of the last, lingering employee, and fell onto the desk in a pathetic heap.

Percy sighed, and picked up the memo. He was just preparing to leave for the day, and this was the last thing he needed. Without even looking at it, Percy somehow knew it was from Williamson. That man seemed to charm the damned things to attack Percy, which was an effective way of making sure that it fell into the correct hands, he reckoned. Except that Percy suspected the Auror found great amusement at the idea of Percy being pecked to death by memos. When the war was over, Percy was going to have a long chat with Charlie about his former dormmate and his prattish qualities.

He was the last one to leave the office, but Percy still looked around surreptitiously before unfolding the paper airplane. Not surprisingly, it was blank, but a wave of his wand fixed that. The neat, precise handwriting of Liam Williamson materialized:

I've noticed things have been quiet in your office lately.

Percy frowned. The Minister's office was anything but quiet. The longer Harry Potter remained at large, the more anxious Thickness grew. Percy surmised then, that by "office," Williamson really meant the Order of Mercy, which had been frustratingly quiet for going on a month.

The Snatchers are particularly gleeful as of late. There is a Muggle-born couple on the run, and word has it the woman is pregnant. I am tracking them down, but stand by to give assistance.

Percy crumpled the missive in his hand.

Dammit, he hadn't expected this of Williamson. Passing on information was one thing, actually tracking down a Muggle-born fugitive was quite another. Expecting help from the Order of Mercy when Fleur had specifically placed a moratorium on activities was reckless. Percy didn't like it, and he didn't like being given orders by a man he still held reservations about.

On the other hand, what if this woman was pregnant? Would they consign an expecting mother to Azkaban? Percy knew the answer was "yes." And what of the child once it was born?

Despite what he thought of Williamson, or what Fleur said, Percy already knew that he would help with this mission no matter what. He couldn't sit by and watch an innocent family be torn apart, or a helpless baby be murdered. It made his stomach cramp just thinking about it.

After smoothing out the missive Percy then rolled it up and placed it inside his robes. It was past time to go home where Audrey would be waiting for him. That thought had him grinning as he made his way to the lifts. Given the late hour, perhaps he should get some take away on his way home.

Home was such a peculiar word. It was simple, only four letters and one syllable, yet so loaded with sentiment and meaning. Home for Percy had always been the Burrow. Even when he'd lived most of the year at Hogwarts, home had still been where his parents were. After the fight with his dad, the word had become a painful reminder of his own shortcomings. Home was never the colorless flat he lived in, it was the place he was cut off from. The closest thing Percy had known to home in the last years had been the week after Oliver's brothers died. Percy had stayed up at Red's Wood with his friend, despite the deep grief, there was a familiarity there. It was love and comfort, it was home. It was only in the last few months that Percy had begun to think of his own domicile as home. He could pretend it was because he was finally working his way back to his family, or perhaps that it was because Bill was more in his life now, but he knew that wasn't the truth of it.

It was Audrey. It was her presence and her laugh. She added color to his drab world.

Bearing a bag of curry, Percy entered his flat. It was on his lips to call for Audrey, but it was unnecessary. She materialized from the bedroom as soon as the door closed behind him. So instead, Percy grinned.

"Have you been bored today?" he asked.

"I finished my book," Audrey replied, wringing her hands. "And…stuff."

"Have you ate? I picked something up." He set the bag on the kitchen table.

"Th-that sounds lovely."

Audrey stood between the couch and the table, practically bouncing on her toes, her eyes darting around the room. It reminded Percy of when Ginny was little. She never cared much if she destroyed something of the twins or Ron, but she was always contrite if she ruined something of Bill or Charlie's. She would be very sorry, very anxious. Percy couldn't help but feel amused at that same look on Audrey's face.

"Have you broken something?" Percy asked, a bemused smile on his face. He couldn't imagine what of value she could have broken in his flat.

"What? No?"

Was that a question, or wishful thinking in her tone?

Feeling perplexed, Percy looked around for a clue. What could Audrey have done to make her act like a child caught with her hand in the biscuit tin? There was honestly nothing of value in his flat. The few things that meant anything to him were either packed away or on his person. Percy's eyes ran over the fire crackling in the grate, and then….

All of a sudden Percy felt both hot and cold. Quickly, he scanned the photos on his mantle, the books on his shelves. He recognized those items, of course he did! They were all relics from a life he had shut himself off to. They were the things he packed up the day he walked out on his parents, the things that had remained in their box ever since.

Now, there they were, put on display for all the world to see. For Percy to look at, to remember what he once had, what he had thrown away. What he was working to return to. Percy didn't feel sick at the sight of his parents and siblings waving from the frame, and that surprised him. Instead, he felt angry.

Marching to the fireplace, Percy snatched the photo of his family in Egypt, then whirled around. "Audrey?"

"It looks homely, doesn't it?" she said, her voice as high and thin as the smile that stretched her face.

Homely. Home.

"You-you've been into my things," he accused, pinching the bridge of his nose above his glasses.

"I wanted to do a bit of decorating, make it look like you live here."

"Oh, and you thought nothing of invading my privacy then?" Percy snapped.

"Sorry?" Audrey twisted her hands. "I remembered the box and just—"

"Dammit, Audrey, don't play stupid!"

Her hands clenched.

"How many times have you consoled me over the estrangement from my family? I hardly think I had to come right out and tell you not to go snooping around my things. Bloody hell, that box has been hidden away in my clothes press for two years, that right there should have been clue enough to keep your bloody nose out!"

With a red face, Audrey opened her mouth twice before saying, "Well perhaps it's time to change that."

"Who the bloody hell are you to decide that?"

"I'm your friend—"

"Who shags me, yes, yes. You always want to dictate the terms of what we are. You're not my girlfriend, well you're also bloody well not my magi-therapist. Did it ever occur to you how I might feel about being ambushed with-with all of this!" He made a sweeping gesture with his arms.

"Ambush is a little strong," Audrey argued.

"The bloody hell it is!"

Percy was well aware of what the word meant—he hadn't grown up with Fred and George for nothing. He knew exactly what it felt like to be caught off guard, the gut punch of surprise. It was never pleasant, but at least the twins only had some nasty trick in store for him. He could trust the twins to be underhanded and devious. That was the thing, Percy thought he could trust Audrey. Or maybe he just convinced himself that he could, he certainly wanted to.

The things in that box weren't much. Some old textbooks and essays could hardly be called personal. The picture of his family had been printed in the Daily Prophet for Merlin's sake, hard to be more public than that. The books, the parchments, the badges he'd been so damn proud of, they all represented a time in his life when he thought he was on top of the world when really he was just a petty bureaucrat. All those names the twins used to call him were true, and all that pride his mum had for him was misplaced. Percy knew all too well that his own hubris had been his downfall. Looking back, it was frankly laughable that he hadn't seen it coming. How stupid he must have been, how blind.

Percy could write essays five feet long on his own foolishness. He could, and had, lie awake at night worrying over every detail of his mistakes. That didn't mean he wanted to look at the reminders when he walked into his flat. Nor did he want them drug up by not-his-girlfriend.

Placing the photo back on the mantel with care, Percy glanced at the one of him and Ollie. That one made Percy smile just a bit. They were just things, after all. All of the power a mere photo had to shame him was granted by his own guilty conscience. He didn't like that Audrey had snooped around his things, but if he let his good sense do the thinking—and not his Weasley pride—Percy knew that she hadn't meant to hurt him. Maybe she was even trying to help him, in a misguided sort of way.

At least she didn't put out the picture of Penny, he thought wryly.

Penny. That twisted gut feeling rocked Percy again. There were other mementos of his relationship with Penelope in that box besides her picture. Where were they? Percy's eyes darted around the room but saw no sign of them. He rushed into his bedroom, vaguely aware that Audrey was following him. On the floor by the clothes press he saw the box, its lid lying beside it. Lifting up the box, he saw the items he was looking for.

"Did you read these?" Percy demanded, holding up the bundle of letters.

"No! I would never—" Audrey stammered, holding her hands up.

"Why should I believe that?"

"Percy, I wouldn't look at your personal correspondence."

"You'll have to pardon me if I find that less than reassuring," Percy said coldly. "You had no qualms at dragging out the rest of my personal things."

Audrey took a deep breath, blinking a few times. "Those are from her, why would I want to read all the little nothings your ex-girlfriend wrote to you?"

"What? Now you're jealous?" Percy hissed. "You're not my girlfriend."

"Look, Percy, I understand that you're angry—"

"Do you?"

"I just wanted to help….To—"

"Bloody hell!" Percy bellowed. "How did you think this would help?"

Audrey blinked. "Maybe I should leave."

"Yes, maybe you should."

Standing by the clothes press, Percy watched as Audrey slowly backed out of the room. She didn't turn until the last moment, her face anxious, as if she were waiting for something else to happen. Even when she was out of sight, Percy remained frozen to the spot, listening to her collect her things, the bang of the door when she left. Still, he stood in the gloom of his room wondering what he had just done.

Tossing the letters into the box, Percy slid down to the floor. Later he was never sure how long he sat on the floor, his hands resting uselessly between his knees. Too many emotions were rumbling through him to process, so mostly Percy felt numb. Was he truly angry with Audrey? Yes, he decided, he was. Did he feel betrayed? Not really. Percy was well acquainted with betrayal, and while Audrey had gone about it in an underhanded manner, she hadn't betrayed him. He'd never told her not to get into that box, after all. Although, some stubborn part of him still felt she should have known without him having to say the words.

After awhile, Percy lit the candles in his room and pulled the stack of letters out of the box again, weighing them in his hands. There were no great secrets contained in that stack of parchment, just the awkward innuendos of two teenagers embarking on their first serious romance. They were embarrassing more than anything. Setting them aside, Percy pulled out the old teddy bear.

The brown fur had been worn thin in places, and the stuffing had shifted into the bottom so that the head drooped bonelessly, but Percy had bought it impulsively two days after he disowned his family. His only defense was that it reminded him of Ron's ratty childhood bear, or maybe it was just the Weasley in him that compelled him to buy this teddy bear. What other reason could there be to buy an old toy for a new baby?

Percy held the bear before him, looking at it for the first time since he'd tossed it into the box the day after he broke up with Penelope. "Broke up" may be the wrong term, it's not as if there had been any discussion or agreement. There hadn't even been an argument. Regardless, their relationship had definitely come to an end.

The day that Cornelius Fudge promoted young Percy Weasley to the Minister's office had been one of incredible highs and lows. First was the surging relief of the Minister for Magic offering him, Percy, a reprieve. Only to march home to be crushed by his father's words when Percy was expecting accolades. Stomping through the gate with the Burrow at his back, Percy had Disapparated to Penny's in a rage. Instead of the celebration he was planning, all Percy could go on about was how unfair his father was, how foolish the whole lot of them were. When he was finished venting his spleen, Penelope had said something that turned the day on its head again. She was pregnant.

Looking back on it now, Percy realized how anxious Penelope was as she revealed her news, but ever the prideful idiot, Percy had missed it then. He'd gone from elated to angry to excited, all in the span of a few short hours. His mind was consumed with the thought of starting a family of his own. Sure, it wasn't how he had planned it: the proper engagement, followed by the big wedding, and then an appropriately timed, planned pregnancy. It was amazing to him how none of that mattered any longer. He, Percy, would have his own family. It didn't matter that Arthur Weasley and the rest of the clan had tossed Percy out, that they never really accepted him, because Percy would have his own child to lavish with love and attention. It would be hard, he knew, but his new salary would go a long way to smoothing the path for his little family. He and Penny would marry, of course, and perhaps a new grandchild would bring his mum to her senses. Once Mum came around, Dad would follow, then the rest of his siblings would fall into place.

The next few days Percy had walked through life with his head held high. Moving his things into the Minister's office, unpacking his robes in Penny's flat, seeing babies everywhere he went and imagining his own ginger cherub. When he'd passed by the second-hand store with the teddy bear in the window, he'd dodged in to buy it without a second thought. He would give it to Penny and make plans for the wedding. Maybe a civil ceremony would be more appropriate given the circumstances?

The fact that Penelope was sullen and withdrawn was completely lost on Percy. That she voiced misgivings about the pregnancy was dismissed entirely. Penny was a rising star in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, she had a heavy workload, so Percy simply assumed that she was tired after a long day in the office. What had he thought she would do after the baby was born? Had he imagined she would give up her future to stay home as his mother had? Was he going to give up his work in the Minister's office? The thought had occurred to him, but he figured they had time to work it all out.

Maybe Penelope hadn't seen it that way. Percy never had the chance to give Penelope the teddy bear because on the third day after he walked out on his family, Penelope told Percy she ended the pregnancy. At first, he hadn't understood what she was saying. He assumed that she meant a miscarriage, and he assured her they could try again, do it properly this time. But no, that hadn't been it at all. Penny had an abortion at some Muggle clinic.

For a moment, Percy had stared at Penny in stunned silence. Then the hurt, the betrayal sank to the depths of his stomach and exploded. He Disapparated straight out of Penny's to Oliver's flat. His friend was on tour with Puddlemere at that time, but Percy hadn't known where else to go. He cried his eyes out on Oliver's settee, heartbroken and lost. In less than a week, he'd lost his family twice. And he knew where the blame lie: it was all on him, Percival Ignatius Weasley. It was his pride that blinded him to the truths his father spoke and to the obvious misgivings that Penelope had been experiencing.

Oliver had turned up a few days later showing no surprise at finding Percy squatting in his Puddlemere flat. "So," the burly Quidditch player said over a Butterbeer, "you cut off your family? Or did they cut you off?"

"It's a little bit of both, I would imagine."

"And Penelope dumped you."

"Something like that." Percy didn't correct Oliver, nor did he tell him the truth. He never wanted anyone to know the truth. By that time, he had convinced himself that it was his own callousness that had caused Penny to do what she had done. If only he had been concerned for her feelings, if he'd bothered to see beyond his own selfish emotions, he could have convinced her that the baby was a blessing in disguise.

Oliver nodded. "Well, you certainly know how to bollocks things up in grand style."

The next day, when Percy had known that Penelope would be at work, Oliver helped him retrieve his things from her flat. The teddy bear was there, sitting on top of the box of jumpers he'd brought from home, a reminder of all he had lost. He had known in that moment that he didn't deserve any of it, not his family, not Penelope, and not the baby. Those were things that were reserved for good men, selfless men like his father or Bill or Oliver. Men who valued family. And what did Percy value? Ambition and power, obviously. How could it be otherwise? All of his actions, all of his inactions pointed to the fact that Percy was in fact a terrible person.

Shortly thereafter, Percy moved into his own flat. At first, flush with more money than he'd ever known in his life, Percy had bought a few things for his space. For a month, the only things in his apartment were a bed, the clothes press, and the bookcase. Those boxes, full of things from another life, had sat in his sitting room mocking him. Opening them would be a reminder of all his shortcomings. Mum came to his door, begging him to come home, and he turned her away because he knew he didn't deserve what she was offering.

Then the day came that Bill showed up on Percy's doorstep. Straight from Egypt and mad as hell, but resolute in mending broken family ties. All this time later, Percy still wasn't sure what it was about Bill that caused him to break. Maybe it was the simple fact that Bill was his big brother, the one who had soothed Percy's nightmares and helped him with maths. Whatever the case, Percy had blurted out the truth about Penelope and the baby. He'd cried—no, if Percy was honest, he sobbed—and Bill had comforted him. Percy still couldn't return home after that night, but he also couldn't refuse himself the one luxury of Bill's occasional company.

Wiping his eyes, Percy placed the bear and letters back into the box and Banished it to the back of the clothes press. Was it time to burn the letters, maybe donate the bear? What good came from hanging onto things that were merely a reminder of the worst day of his life? Yet, Percy knew he would keep them. They were also reminders of that shiny nugget of hope, the only proof that his baby once existed for however brief a time.

Strangely, the pain of it didn't cut quite as deep as it once had.

oOo

A few nights after, Oliver strode into Percy's flat with a wide grin on his face. It was the happiest Percy had seen his friend since…. Well, he couldn't remember when, to be honest. Even before Oliver's brothers died, there had been that whole debacle with Katie and the cursed necklace. The last year had been a cruel one, but Oliver was grinning like he'd just won the Quidditch Cup all over again.

"I just got word," Oliver said unceremoniously. "Puddlemere is traveling to France for some friendly matches with the Toulon team after Christmas."

"Cheers."

Percy knew this already, the paperwork had passed through his desk earlier that week, but he wasn't going to mention it. Approval for the travel had to come through the Minister's office—which was not the normal procedure. The approval had come through just that morning, so Puddlemere must have been anxious to get word to their players.

"And Fleur is going to arrange for me to see Katie and Catriona."

That was good news!

Percy had hoped it would work out that way, but he hadn't been sure. With Bill and Fleur's continued silence, it seemed likely she wouldn't be able to honor a request from Oliver. Stiffly, but with genuine happiness, Percy patted Oliver on the shoulder.

Oliver chuckled, "Don't get sentimental on me there, Perce."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Oliver strode into the kitchen and reappeared with a Butterbeer. "Where's Audrey?"

"We're fighting, actually."

"Something else non-boyfriends and girlfriends regularly do."

A weary sigh straggled out of Percy. He'd woke up the morning after the fight feeling less than rested, ready to race over to Audrey's and beg her to come back. He hadn't touched the frames or the books or any of the other things she'd dragged out of the box, but he hadn't gone to her either. He was trying, very hard, to exercise caution. He was trying to see Audrey clearly, but all he could think was that he missed her laugh.

What was it about this woman that had his head so turned? She was baffling. Constantly drawing lines in the sand, then casually walking over them. She was infuriating. Keeping him at an arm's length one moment, and drawing him in the next. She was funny, she was kind, and she was the person he most wanted to see every night and again the next morning.

Then, just the previous day, Percy had an insight. It happened when he was looking at the books on his shelf. They were all books he'd read while in Hogwarts, some of them many times. It wasn't so much that he loved the books, as that there had been so few to choose from. Yet, on Percy's shelf, mixed in with all of his old books was one he had never seen before. It was a beat up copy of something called The Maltese Falcon by Dashiell Hammett. Percy had neither seen the book before nor did he know who Hammett was.

Turning the book over in his hands, flipping through the pages, Percy tried to figure out where it had come from. He supposed it could have been Penelope's and he'd accidently packed it up after they broke up. That was unlikely, however. For one, Penelope didn't like mysteries. In fact, during the entire time Percy knew her, he never saw her with a Muggle book. For another, Penelope never bought anything second hand. She came from a well to do family and had rather high standards. In retrospect, Percy couldn't imagine what she was doing with him. He might have put a nice gloss on it, but he was a Weasley from his red hair to the pained way he counted out sickles for a bag of sweets.

All of that was pretense. Percy knew without a doubt that book wasn't Penelope's, he was just searching for confirmation of what his gut was telling him. Audrey had given him the book. It was a present, a parting gift, he suspected. Of course she hadn't wrapped it in a bow, or even announced that she had a surprise for him. No, Audrey incited a fight—one he was sure she hoped would push him away—then left a little trinket to be found later. Maybe she hoped he would read the book and think of her fondly?

Had he ever thought winning Audrey over would be simple?

As he read the book, enthralled by Sam Spade, Percy was both horrified and giddy to realize that Audrey was trying to push him away. If that had been her intent, then that meant Percy was getting close enough to be pushed. As far as he was concerned, that was a good thing. At the same time, Percy was sad, not for himself, but for Audrey. It was a terrible thing for a person to have all her protective wards battered down.

If only he could earn her trust.

Chapter 30

Percy knocked on the door, then stepped back to wait.

He was taking the chance that Audrey was home, and not at work. As Percy understood it, Muggle department stores kept quite late hours. Even if she was in, Audrey might decline to see him. What if Sprayberry sent Percy away? Well, he reckoned he'd just have to show up on Audrey's doorstep again tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that, until she agreed to see him.

The door opened, and Sprayberry's face became an instant mask of annoyance. "Weasley."

"Good to see you, Sprayberry. I was hoping Audrey was home," Percy stated plainly.

Sprayberry looked to the side, but didn't close the door. Percy knew instantly that Audrey was, in fact, home. Given the silent battle of wills Percy sensed was happening, he also guessed that Audrey was trying to avoid him. Only one question remained: what would her brother do? Sprayberry could play the protective older brother and deny Percy entry. Or, and Percy hoped this was the case, the other man could decide he'd had enough of his baby sister and force her to face Percy.

"As a matter of fact, Weasley, you are in luck."

Yes, he was indeed very lucky for the next thing Percy knew, Audrey was standing before him and the door was closing with a snap behind her. She wore overalls under an oversized cardigan and her slippers. A red scarf kept her hair back and there wasn't a stitch of makeup on her crease-marked face. She looked as if she'd just woke up. Percy thought she looked beautiful.

"Hey," she said, pulling her hands inside the sleeves of the jumper.

Percy coughed into his fist in order to cover the smile that was trying to burst onto his face. The relief of seeing Audrey again was making him feel giddy. "Hey."

Silence stretched between them in the hallway of her brother's building. The light from the sconce was harsh on the plain walls, and it was a bit drafty. Percy couldn't care less. He was just so pleased to see Audrey again, even though she looked like a child awaiting a lecture.

"Percy," she said at last. "I-I'm sorry for invading your privacy."

Percy didn't respond right away. It was on the tip of his tongue to forgive her outright. He could even tell her that he'd left the books and photos just where she put them, but he knew he couldn't make it that easy. He'd been plenty mad, and not without reason, but if he wanted a more meaningful relationship with Audrey, they couldn't simply ignore that. More than that, however, Percy wanted to know if his suspicions were correct, if she was trying to push him away.

"Thank you," he said, his voice more clipped than he'd meant it to be. He wasn't sure how to proceed, and acting on instinct wasn't his strong suit, but he saw Audrey flinch at his tone. Clearing his throat, he tried again. "I was angry, but-but maybe you were right."

She looked up at him with those giant brown eyes.

"But what I don't understand, Audrey, is why you didn't just ask?"

She opened her mouth, then closed it before finally saying, "I didn't want to risk your saying no."

"Or maybe you were hoping to piss me off?"

Pulling the scarf from her hair and worrying it in her hands, Audrey didn't say anything. He hadn't expected her to—that would be giving too much away. Yet, the way she stood with her hair covering her face, thinking she was hiding from the world, said it all. Percy wished desperately that she could be unguardedly vulnerable before him. He felt as though he was stealing those moments from her, and he hated it. The last thing he ever wanted to do was cause Audrey pain.

Reaching out, Percy gently tucked Audrey's hair behind her ear.

"What would you have said if I had asked first?" Audrey asked. She looked up at him, pushing the other side of her hair away from her face.

"Honestly, I don't know," Percy admitted. "But you don't always have to push."

Her eyes began to slide away from him again. Feeling desperate, Percy grabbed Audrey by the arms, pulling her near. They were so close that their chests nearly touched with each heaving breath, and Audrey's eyes were definitely looking into Percy's face now. There was even that flare of challenge and desire that he was coming to know so well. He'd brought with him a feeling of contriteness, even though he wasn't the one apologizing. Still, it was Percy who was making the first move, the one that would keep Audrey in his life. That feeling was slipping off his shoulders, being replaced by something much hotter and more insistent.

"I'm your friend," he said, his voice a low rumble. "I won't stop being that just because we quarrel, if that was what you were hoping."

Audrey touched his chest. "Can we go back to how things were?"

Percy was no fool, he could read between the lines. Audrey didn't mean before the fight, she wanted to go back to the beginning. She wanted to go back to a time when Percy meant no more to her than a bar of chocolate.

"We can go forward," he replied. "Still…friends."

"Just friends?"

"If that's what you want." Percy's voice was just a whisper now, and he was staring at her mouth.

Audrey's arms went around his neck. "Maybe more."

Her mouth took his with crashing force, and Percy's mind went blank. She nibbled his lips hungrily, and the hallway melted away. All he wanted was to get his body closer to hers. Her tongue teased his, and Percy groaned. He slid his arms inside of her cardigan, around her waist, and backed her up against the wall.

"Audrey," he murmured, stooping down to kiss her throat. "There is enough jumper here for both of us."

"We should go somewhere more private," she said, arching her neck.

"Get your cloak, minx," Percy ordered, unable to contain the grin on his face.

oOo

It was hours before Audrey was thinking straight again. She found herself tucked against Percy's warm body, his chest hair rough against her back and his even breath steamy against her skin. In that moment, Audrey was almost content. Almost, except for that niggling worm of worry in her brain, or maybe it was her heart. Those two entities did not have an open line of communication these days.

Earlier, Percy asked if Audrey had intended to piss him off. Maybe she had, she wasn't sure. She certainly never expected to ever be in Percy's bed again, not after their fight. She thought they were over, that it was for the best, really. After all, their friendship was skidding awfully close to becoming something more.

She stared at his bedside table where The Maltese Falcon sat, a bookmark sticking out the top—he was already halfway finished with it. It felt like ages since Percy brought Audrey back to his flat, but it had only been a few hours. They had made a trail of clothing from the front door to the bedroom, eager to make up. But even in her lust-filled haze, Audrey had noticed the book next to the bed. It made her heart ache, as if it were growing past its perimeters to make room for something new to fill it.

It was that same stupid heart that flipped over in her chest when Audrey heard Percy's deep voice on the other side of the door earlier. This heart of hers, it had no sense. It wanted things that Audrey's brain was set against. Things like companionship and passion and this strange contentedness. Her heart wanted to crack itself open and let Percy in. Meanwhile, her brain sneered at her heart with disgust. Didn't Audrey's heart know by now that those cracks would never heal?

Tears pushed into the corners of Audrey's eyes. From the moment Seth pushed her into the hall, Audrey had lost all sense. She missed Percy, and it became impossible to deny once they were face-to-face again. Her brain stopped working, and her heart took over. Now, here she was, right where she wanted to be, in the last place she should be.

Somebody was going to get hurt, and Audrey was afraid it would be Percy.

oOo

Fleur sneezed.

"Bless you," Ron muttered.

They were in her stillroom. Ron was chopping ingredients while Fleur brewed potions. She pushed her hair off her forehead, telling herself the reason she was covered in a thin layer of sweat was due to the steaming caldron she stood over. She was not sick. The full moon was hours away so of course she could not be ill.

"You alright?" Ron asked.

"Mais oui," Fleur answered, snuffling a bit.

"Are you sure? I could get you a handkerchief if you need one, or a cup of tea."

Half-heartedly, she glared at her brother-in-law, but feared she had failed in the endeavor.

"Suit yourself," Ron said. "It's your funeral."

"What does that mean? It is my funeral?"

"Just…. I don't know. It's an expression Mum would use when one of us persisted in doing something she thought was stupid."

"You zink I am stupid?"

Ron's ears turned red. "Well, no, just…stubborn. You obviously have a cold."

"I do not." Fleur sneezed.

"If you say so."

She blew her nose loudly. "I do."

"The Pepper-Up is in the pink bottle if you change your mind."

"You are very annoying."

Ron laughed. "You know, when the war is over, maybe you should apply for the Potions Master at Hogwarts. I think I've learned more about potions from you than in five years with Snape and one with Ol' Sluggy."

"What is an ol' sluggy?"

"Horace Slughorn, he's this stuffy old Slytherin that Dumbledore brought back last year to teach Potions. He's alright, I suppose, for a spineless, bootlicking git."

Fleur looked at her brother-in-law, wondering if she wanted to know what "bootlicking" meant. Maybe she would ask Audrey, if she ever saw her again. Fleur knew that was a melodramatic thought, but she had not seen her friend since before Halloween, more than a month ago. More importantly, the Order of Mercy had not been in operation. Every night that Bill listened to Potterwatch, Fleur tallied up the new number of missing or dead. It made her sick.

Those were people she could have helped. Not that Fleur begrudged Ron the safety of her home. She knew that hiding Ron was important, not just to Bill, but to the war effort. Wherever Harry and Hermione were at that moment, Fleur knew they would be missing the presence of their friend. Not only because they loved him, but because they could not prevail without him.

Stirring the caldron one more time, Fleur turned to Ron. "When do you zink you will leave to find zem?"

"I-I can leave right away," he said and gulped. "If you want me to."

"You misunderstand me. You are welcome in my home as long as you need to be here, but what of Harry and Hermione? Zey need you, non?"

Ron shook his head. "All that time we were on the run together, I was nothing but a burden to them. I-I think maybe they are better off without me."

"Do not be stupide." Fleur took Ron's chin, forcing him to look at her. "You were sick, in your body and your soul. You are better now, and zey need you. I zink you know this, oui?"

Ron looked down, his voice coming out thin and reedy. "Yes."

"Zen what keeps you here?"

"I don't know where they are. I can't begin to think where to find them."

This problem, it was a serious one indeed, but Ron was wrong about what he thought the issue was. Fleur released him, assessing his slumped shoulders. He looked as he often did, defeated. It was true, he did not know where Harry and Hermione were, but Fleur thought Ron's battered heart was the true issue. He must believe in himself, then his heart would lead him where he needed to go.

"What is it you fear?" Fleur asked huskily.

Ron carefully chopped the flubberworms that Bill had bought for her in Diagon Alley the day before. Settling onto her stool, Fleur prepared to wait. She suspected that Ron would need time to formulate his answer, but she was wrong.

"That Hermione won't forgive me."

"Ah," Fleur said, nodding. "Not Harry, too?"

Ron shook his head. "Harry'll come around, and pretty quick if I know him."

"Hermione, she holds a-a, how do say? A grudge?"

"Yeah, a grudge. I mean no, or yes." Ron stopped chopping and looked at Fleur. "Hermione can hold a grudge, yeah, but I-I deserve it, don't I?"

"Why do you zink zat?"

Ron turned red. "I've let her down before. Last year, she-she kind of asked me to be her date to this party. I was pretty chuffed, to be honest. I-I wanted Hermione to notice me, you see?"

"As more zan a friend, oui?" Fleur asked softly, though she already knew the answer.

Ron nodded. "Yeah. I'm not sure when that changed." He stopped and stared blankly at a point beyond Fleur's head. "Maybe the Yule Ball."

"Hermione was très jolie."

"Does that mean beautiful?"

Fleur smiled. "Pretty."

"She was more than pretty, that night."

"So, Hermione asked you for a date last year?"

Ron nodded. "Only, I bollocksed up the whole thing. I, um, started snogging another girl."

All of the sympathy Fleur garnered for her brother-in-law fled. Anger on Hermione's behalf erupted in the pit of Fleur's stomach. "You are an idiot," she spat.

"Yeah, I am. Hermione attacked me with little birds…."

"Good on her!"

Ron looked up, his brows pinched together. "And-and she stopped talking to me. So, yeah, Hermione can hold a grudge. I mean, I'm actually grateful I almost died because at least Hermione started speaking to me again, and I somehow got rid of Lavender. That's the other—"

Fleur held up her hand. "Do not speak her name!"

"Sorry," Ron muttered.

"Well," Fleur said, and sighed. "She forgave you for being so big an idiot?"

Ron nodded. "I thought we were doing so well over the summer. There was kind of an unspoken pact between the two of us, that we would put our feelings on hold until after the war. We knew we were going on the run with Harry, and…. I don't think either of us knew how hard it would actually be. I didn't."

He stared into the distance again. Some of Fleur's compassion was stirred as she watched him. Ron looked so lost, so young. Yet, it was very mature of him and Hermione to put their feelings second to Harry's needs. It was certainly more than Fleur and Bill had done, as they had rushed to marry despite the war. Had she not underestimated how hard it would be to marry in the wake of so much grief and tragedy?

"I can understand zat," Fleur said, and touched Ron's arm lightly.

"Can you?" Ron looked at her. "I knew going with Harry wasn't going to be a walk in the park, but I don't know what I expected really. Not to starve. Not to feel so completely…useless."

"You were ill. Zat makes it so much harder."

"I guess you would know, huh?"

"Oui, I do."

"I left them at exactly the moment they needed me. I've messed up before, Fleur, but not like this. Not with so much on the line! I don't know how I'll ever be able to make it up to her." He turned his back to Fleur, wiping his arm across his face. "Do you think she could ever forgive me?"

Fleur stared at Ron's back. If she were Hermione, if Bill had done what Ron had done, would she be able to forgive him? Tonks had forgiven Remus, more than once, for running out on her. Where did she find the strength to do that?

Another young man's face flashed before Fleur's mind's eye. Alain, the boy who was maimed for trying to kiss her. All these years, he languished senseless, and Fleur had hated him. Not because he tried to force a kiss onto her, but because he made her hate one-quarter of herself. She hated the magic that drew unsuspecting young men like Alain to her, but she feared it as well. For it was the same magic that nearly killed Alain.

Sliding off her stool, Fleur wrapped her arms around Ron's shoulders, pressing her face against his back. "My papa says," she began softly, "zat we forgive not for another, but for ourselves because carrying resentment in our hearts only hurts us. Maybe, before Hermione can forgive you, you must first forgive yourself."

Fleur sneezed all over Ron's jumper.

oOo

The sun was already below the horizon by the time Bill returned home. His entire day had been consumed with the knowledge that this night would be the longest of the year. The true winter solstice was a few days away, but this would be longest full moon night of the year. Rolling his shoulders, Bill climbed the steps of his home to find a tense standoff in the kitchen.

On one side of the butcher's block stood his wife, arms crossed, face pale, eyes drooping from exhaustion. On the other stood his brother, red faced and furious. Between them were all of the supplies Fleur lovingly prepared to greet the moon.

"She's sick!" Ron accused, pointing at Fleur.

"I am not," Fleur denied.

Bill could plainly see that Fleur was lying. There were beads of sweat on her forehead. If he had to guess, she was only standing out of sheer force of will.

"I've told her she needs to take a dose of Pepper-Up Potion and lie down, but she won't listen," Ron said.

"I think Ron's right, love," Bill said.

"Bah! I am fine." Fleur leaned on the butcher's block for support. "And who will take care of you?"

That was a good question.

"This was bound to happen," Bill said, striving for a nonchalant tone, but the pull of the moon had been wearing at his nerves all day, and he knew he hadn't managed it. "You can't always be here for me—"

"In sickness and health, zat is what I vowed."

Bill walked over to her, pressing his lips against her forehead, only to pull away. "You're burning up."

"I told you," Ron exclaimed, pointing a critical finger at Fleur.

Fleur waved her hand. "It does not matter. Bill needs me."

"Not tonight I don't. I'll manage on my own."

Bill felt confident he had forced as much bravado into that statement as possible. Truth be told, he feared what the coming night held for him. The idea of the pain dragging on for hours had niggled at the back of his mind all day. He had no choice, he had to face it, but the thought of having Fleur by his side made it more bearable.

"What am I?" Ron snapped. "A flubberworm? I can take care of Bill."

Bill looked at his brother in alarm. Having Ron know about his condition was one thing, having him actually tend to Bill was quite another. He couldn't stomach the idea of appearing so sick and so vulnerable in front of Ron. No, Bill would rather do it on his own than see the pity in Ron's face.

A part of Bill knew he was being an idiot. Ron had seen a good deal of what Bill suffered last month, one would think he'd overcome his blighted pride, right? But what was a Weasley without his pride?

"What?" Ron challenged. "You don't think I'm up to it? Ickle Ronniekins, he can never do anything right."

"No," Bill muttered, shaking his head. "That's not it…."

"Then what is it?"

Looking from his brother, to Fleur, Bill decided to keep his mouth shut. Admitting that he was a prideful arsehole was not going to win points with his wife. She'd probably insist on taking care of him herself, and Bill couldn't have that. This marriage could hardly be what she dreamed of. Month after month of caring for her ailing husband, keeping his blasted secrets, inventing new ways of tending to his symptoms. Bill wouldn't put her health in jeopardy, too.

"Let's go to bed, Fleur," Bill said, ignoring his brother's question. "Ron, could you get that Pepper-Up Potion and a Dreamless Sleep Draught."

Fleur opened her mouth to protest, but Bill pressed a finger to her lips.

"No," he said, and shook his head. "I know you, love. You'll lay awake worrying about me when you should be resting. It will be easier for me if I know you're upstairs recuperating. So take the potion, please, for me."

Fleur nodded, and Bill knew just how sick she truly was by how easily she acquiesced.

oOo

Clouds shifted, allowing a silvery shaft of moonbeam to glimmer over Bill's half-naked body. The sand was cold and damp against him, the breeze frigid as it tickled over his over-heated skin. With Fleur asleep, and Ron looking mutinous, Bill had escaped to the beach to suffer the moon's effects alone. It was a cold night, yet the open spaces, maybe even the chill itself, gave him a tiny fraction of relief.

The worst of it had passed, thank goodness. With his chest heaving, Bill's body slowly unclenched until he lay spread-eagle across the beach. One hour down. Nine and a half to go.

"So, potions first?"

Bill cracked one eye open at the voice that had appeared to his left. "Bloody…What are you doing here?"

"I brought your potions," Ron said, kneeling beside Bill's body in the darkness.

Before exiting the cottage, Bill had told his brother unequivocally that he, Bill Weasley, did not need help from Ron. The older brother had left before he could hear Ron's arguments or see the hurt in his eyes. This was Bill's illness, he would manage it as he saw fit, Ron didn't get a say in the matter.

"Sleeping draught?" Ron continued. "Or pain potion first?"

"Go away," Bill muttered, closing his eyes.

"Sorry, can't do that."

Bill blew air through his nose like a bull. "I don't have the energy to fight with you."

"I know," Ron said. "But if you did, I would tell you that you're a bloody stupid git. So, Sleeping Draught, I think."

Bill opened his eyes to see his brother looming over him, potion in hand. "Ron—"

"Shut it, Bill, you're not getting rid of me."

Much to his own surprise, Bill did shut it. He even accepted both potions without argument. There was a calm assurance in Ron's demeanor that allowed Bill to be washed along with it.

"It's bleeding cold out here," Ron complained. He flicked his wand, and Bill felt the effects of a warming charm settle around them.

A part of Bill wanted to take the mickey out of Ron for being a pansy about the cold, but he couldn't find the energy.

"December doesn't seem like a good month for a beach camp out," Ron continued, picking up another vat of potion. "So, Fleur does the massage thing."

"No!" Bill found his voice, it was a bit hoarse, but forceful. "Not necessary."

"C'mon, you changed my nappies, yeah? That's what you're always telling me, so this makes us even, doesn't it?"

"Fleur doesn't take the piss, wanker," Bill grumbled.

"So, she's a better medi-witch than me, no surprise there."

"Go away."

"I brought a sheet for you to lie on. Figured it would keep the sand from getting stuck to the Bitterroot Balm—which stinks, by the way. Can you move yourself onto the sheet, or I think I can Levitate you."

Maybe it was the potions, or maybe it was his low reserve of energy, but Bill was having trouble pulling his thoughts together. He wanted to assemble a well thought out argument, something that Ron couldn't deny, anything to make his brother go away. His mind wasn't cooperating. All he could think was that having Ron Levitate him onto a blanket would be the most humiliating thing he'd ever experienced.

Chest heaving, each breath tremulous from exertion, Bill said, "Go away, Ron."

"Look, Bill," Ron said, his voice even. "I've been a real arsehole, I've done things I am ashamed of. Do you think I want to be here? No, I bloody well don't. It scares me to see you like this, and I would rather go hide in my bed and pretend like none of this is happening."

"I would be okay with that," Bill said.

"Yeah, well, I wouldn't." Ron wasn't looking at Bill, but his voice was firm, even a bit angry. "You've taken care of me my whole life, but I'm not a kid anymore. Fleur says I need to forgive myself, and maybe she's right. But I couldn't forgive myself if I let my brother suffer when I could help him. I love you, Bill, and you're going to shut the bloody hell up and let me help you. And tomorrow, we are never going to speak of this again, understand?"

Tears came to Bill's eyes, but he fought to keep them from falling. If he were honest with himself, despite his pride, Bill had to admit that he didn't want to suffer through this night by himself. He wanted Fleur, but he couldn't have her. What he did have was his brother, a mass of them in fact, but at the moment he had Ron. For months, he'd been fighting desperately to keep his condition hidden from his family, but maybe that had been just as pridefully stupid as Percy insisting on proving himself before returning to the family, or Ron refusing to return home out of shame for leaving Harry and Hermione. Maybe being the big brother in this moment wasn't about preserving his dignity, maybe it was about letting his little brother help him.

Set a good example, Billy. Family is about being there for each other.

Merlin, Bill hated it when his inner monologue sounded like Mum.

"Do you promise—about the never speaking of this again part?" Bill asked.

"Hell, yes!"

"You aren't Levitating me."

"At least let me help you up."

Ron stood, he grasped the inner elbow of Bill's good arm, allowing the older brother to leverage himself up. Once he was standing on shaky legs, Bill could look Ron in the eye. They were the same height, their shoulders the same width, their eyes the same color. Bill's little brother was a good man, whether Ron knew it or not.

oOo

The sky was pearly gray, the roar of the sea crashing between Bill's ears. Another night survived, and now he was bloody cold despite the blanket that was pulled up to his chin. Where had the blanket come from? Bill looked to his left to see Ron asleep on his side, huddled under his own tartan coverlet.

Another night survived, indeed.

He didn't quite have the strength to sit up yet, so he closed his eyes and drifted off back to sleep. When he woke again, it was to a pink horizon and a barrage of cursing beside him. Bill looked at his brother and found Ron sitting up, reassembling the various bottles of potions and balms.

"'Morning," Bill muttered.

"It's too bloody cold for that," Ron snapped.

It took longer than it should have, but Bill managed to pull himself to a sitting position. He found his wand and strengthened the warming charms around them. "Thank you for—"

"Shut it, Bill, we said we wouldn't talk about it."

Bill fell silent. He wanted tea, and maybe a bowl of porridge. Over the sea, the sun was a golden orb peaking halfway out, pinks and purples sprawling across the sky. Despite the cold, a night low on sleep, and an aching body, Bill sat in wonder of the sight before him.

"You said something last night," Bill started.

"What?" Ron grunted.

Tearing his eyes away from the sunrise, Bill looked at Ron. "Fleur told you that you needed to forgive yourself?"

"Oh. Yeah, something like that."

"What do you suppose she meant by that?" Bill turned his eyes to the horizon again, but he sensed Ron plop down in the sand beside him.

"Don't know. I-I guess she means that I have to stop beating myself up about what I did."

"True, your actions are in the past, you can't change them."

"So, what? I just let it go? Do I deserve that? I betrayed my friends, shouldn't I—I don't know, be punished…or something?"

"Would that change things? No. Would it keep you from being an idiot in the future? Not likely. Punishment rarely serves as a deterrent, otherwise Fred and George would have stopped pranking long ago."

"Then what is the answer?"

"You learn from your mistakes, you move on. Wallowing in shame and self-pity doesn't serve anyone, not yourself and not your friends."

"Have you ever done anything you would change?" Ron asked and groaned. "Merlin, I've done so many things I'm sorry for."

"I had a girlfriend at Hogwarts I treated shabbily," Bill answered. "I'd change that."

That was the easy answer, but maybe not the one that Ron deserved. He wasn't asking about the regrets of a callous youth.

Bill sighed, glancing at Ron out of the corner of his eye. "I wouldn't have recruited Dougal and Fergus Wood to the Order. I as good as signed their death warrants."

"You know that's stupid, right?"

"Wh-what?" Slack-jawed and sputtering, Bill stared at Ron. "Excuse me?"

"I remember when Dougal and Fergus used to visit the Burrow over summer hols, Bill. Even as kids they had bollocks. Do you think they would have waited around for Bill Weasley, Head Prat, to extend an invitation to fight You-Know-Who?"

"You sound like Fleur…and Catriona."

"Well, damn, Bill, if your idiot baby brother has to tell you that you're being stupid, what does that say about your supposed brilliance?"

"Shut it."

"It's a bloody war, Bill, people we love die. The only people to blame are the effing Death Eaters."

"Alright, using that logic, what happens if Harry and Hermione die because you are wallowing in self pity?"

Ron gaped at Bill.

"Yes, our actions have consequences, but what's done is done. The man who bullied me into letting him help me last night isn't a screw up. He isn't the type to leave when the going gets tough, and he isn't useless. You made a mistake, Ron, a big one—time to make up for it."

This would have been the perfect moment to get up and storm off for the house, let Ron think over his words. Bill couldn't quiet manage it.

"Can you help me up please?" he muttered.

Chapter 31

Notes:

uthor's Note: I forgot to note this earlier, but we're just past the half-way point in this story!

Fun Fact #1: Audrey's song is Arms by Christina Perri. My beta found the song, but it perfectly describes Audrey's fear of commitment and her feelings for Percy.

Fun Fact #2: Audrey's wardrobe is based on clothing that was owned by either myself (the oversize cardigan) or my best friend (the overalls) back in the 1990s. In a few cases, as with the dress in this chapter, it's just things I wish I owned back then.

The first snow came to London on a Friday night. The following afternoon, Audrey would be expected at the department store, but that evening found her clutching a cup of tea while she sat in Percy's window, waiting for him to come home. Delicate white flakes danced like fairies through the blackened sky, into pools of light from the lampposts, to land gently on the dirty sidewalks. Long before Audrey's ginger returned from work, the city of brick and cement was transformed. Gone were the harsh angles and hard surfaces, replaced by a blanket of winking white, the city's loudness muted by winter's brief serenity. Leaning her forehead against the cool panel of glass, Audrey let the wonder of the snow take away her worries.

Finally, she saw a shadow move out of the alleyway. Holding her breath, she watched as the tall, lean figure moved into the lamplight, his head leaned back to watch the snow descend from the sky. He looked towards the building, beaming when he spotted her in the window. Even from a distance, Audrey could see the genuine happiness in his smile, and her heart did a frightful flip in her chest. That smile was for her. Had anyone ever had a smile meant just for her?

The realization made Audrey's chest ache painfully. Gasping, she pressed her hand against her sternum, tears coming to her eyes. The beauty before her was a temporary one. The next day, the Muggles would clear the streets, their cars would tarnish the pristine white. There would be an ugly gray mess for a few days before Mother Nature did her job and melted away the snow. The beauty only lasted a moment, just one, shining, perfect moment.

"Don't you love snow?"

Percy burst through the door, already throwing off his muffler, a large grin on his face. Audrey turned away quickly, before he could see her tears. And he would, she had no doubt. Percy watched her, he saw every small emotion that flickered across her face.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?"

He was behind her, his voice pitched reverently low. Against all of her better judgment, Audrey leaned back against him, her head against his chest. His hand smoothed over her hair, and Audrey's eyes drifted shut.

"You're quiet," he murmured.

"Just-just enjoying it, before it's gone," Audrey replied.

"The first snow is always gone too fast."

Standing, Audrey wrapped her arms around Percy. He folded her in his wiry strength that was as comforting as it was surprising. There was no telling how long they stood there like that, but it wasn't long enough for Audrey, and that's what scared her.

oOo

"It's a party, you should come," said Alicia Spinnet.

"Well, they called it a pagan ritual," scoffed Angelina Johnson, rolling her eyes. "Something about the Winter Solstice."

"The twins do have a flair for drama."

That was how Audrey came to be standing at the top of a rickety staircase outside of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, invited to a party by Angelina and Alicia, who assured Audrey that the twins would hardly notice one more guest. A few days prior, Audrey had run into the former Gryffindor Chasers while running errands on Diagon Alley for her sisters—an all too frequent occurrence these days, but at least that meant an abundance of new books, courtesy of her brothers. Still, she wasn't sure why she was knocking on Fred and George Weasley's door. This seemed like a Bad Idea.

Audrey didn't know the Weasley twins outside of that one meeting at Shell Cottage—she hardly knew Angelina or Alicia for that matter. Moreover, it seemed like a betrayal of Percy in some way, to attend his brother's party when he was putting in overtime at the Ministry of Magic. Which, of course, was ridiculous. Percy was her friend. Yes, they were lovers, but they weren't romantic, they weren't exclusive. She'd been quite clear that romance was off the table, for Merlin's sake! So there was no way that Audrey could betray Percy.

Still, maybe she should just leave. There was a lot of loud noises and music coming from the other side of the door, they probably didn't even hear her knock. Audrey could just reverse her course and no one would be the wiser. Really, she had never been to a party like this without Fleur, and it seemed completely out of her depth. Audrey knew she talked a good game, but inside she was still that awkward, quivering teenager who didn't….

"Oi!" The door opened. "Why are you knocking? Just come on—It's you."

Big eyed and blushing, Audrey stared at one of the Weasley twins. Too late for escape, she reckoned. Reminding herself to think quick, Audrey took in the twin before her. Jeans, loud floral shirt with the tails hanging out, artfully disheveled hair, and two ears. Audrey cocked her head to the side, eyeing him coyly, then offered a big smile.

"Hello to you, too, Fred Weasley."

He covered his ears. "What gave it away?"

Audrey laughed, then the next thing she knew, she was being pulled into a flat that looked less like the domicile of two successful businessmen and more like the grungy environs of Knut-less young bucks. The crowd wasn't too large, but disproportionately female. All of them clutching a drink of some sort.

"Wasn't expecting you," Fred said. "Oi, let me take your coat."

Audrey passed over her coat, revealing a red silk Oriental dress with gold embroidery. It hugged her figure, revealing plenty of leg and allowing her arms to freeze. However, Fred apparently approved, as his eyes roamed from her neck to her heels, and back again.

Audrey placed her hand on her hips. "See something you like?"

He dropped her coat into a pile on the floor. Audrey was about to protest when a hand on her back propelled her through the room.

"You remember my brother," Fred said.

George Weasley was talking to Cho Chang, of all people. Seeing the popular Ravenclaw, who was two years behind her in school, made Audrey want to back up and run, but the hand on her back wasn't going to allow that. Plastering a smile on her face, Audrey reminded herself that she wasn't a schoolgirl anymore.

"He's trying to get in Chang's pants," Fred said in a whisper that was meant to be heard by everybody within earshot.

"Oi!" George thundered, turning bright red.

Cho looked uncomfortable, her eyes darting from one twin to the other and finally on Audrey.

"Hi," Audrey said with a small wave.

Before Cho could respond, Fred moved Audrey onto the next person.

"And this is Verity, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes number one employee."

"And their only employee," the girl said, pushing a hank of hair behind her shoulder.

"Let's not quibble about the details. I was trying to get in Verity's pants, but George said I couldn't dip my quill in the company ink."

Verity rolled her eyes.

"Isn't that sexual harassment?" Audrey said before being moved on.

"Lee Jordan, armature prankster."

The young black man offered his hand, but Audrey declined. "I can see the slime dripping from it."

"Damn!" Lee muttered.

"See, amateur," Fred put in. "He's called dibs on Alicia Spinnet. You know Spinnet? Well, she'd rather conk Lee on the head than kiss him. And this—"

Audrey found herself standing in front of the ferociously beautiful Angelina Johnson. The other girl gave Fred a scathing look, one eyebrow cocked. Those were the most beautifully shaped eyebrows Audrey had ever seen. They were finely plucked to arch over Angelina's eyes like wings about to take flight. One twitch seemed to express whole book's worth of emotion.

"This," Fred said, "is Angelina Johnson. We dated, you know."

"One date, Fred," Angelina retorted, holding up a single finger. "And I have lived to regret it, which is the most I can say for the whole debacle."

Fred growled playfully. "As witty as she is beautiful. And what about you, Annie."

"Audrey," she corrected.

"Exactly. Would you like a Butterbeer? We've got Firewhisky if you would prefer?"

"Let me know if you need rescued," Angelina called as Fred whisked Audrey into the galley kitchen that was currently acting as pub.

"Pick your poison!" Fred declared, opening his arms wide to indicate the numerous bottles of alcohol lined up on the counters.

Audrey eyed the stocky man before him, with his wicked grin and trouble twinkling in his eyes. In his boisterous way, Fred was pouring on the charm. Audrey wondered if women typically fell for Fred's brand of raucous flirtation? If she were honest, she had fallen for similarly obnoxious men in the past, usually ones not even a fifth as clever as Fred Weasley. In fact, Fred offered the kind of fly-by-night dalliance that was normally just Audrey's type. He even offered the added benefit of witty conversation.

Even before Fred opened the door, Audrey had felt wrong-footed, but why? Because the party was populated by all of the best known, most popular kids at Hogwarts during her time? Again, Audrey reminded herself that she was no longer a schoolgirl. This wasn't the Ravenclaw common room where she could be ignored in peace. There was no reason for her to be just another slightly eccentric, but completely forgettable, girl in a blue and bronze tie. In fact, she would be twenty-one-years old in March. She'd had a blossoming career before the war intervened. She had successfully navigated parties and dance clubs and even sexual liaisons. There was no reason for Audrey Sprayberry to feel like a jittery mess just because Fred Weasley was aggressively flirting with her.

Well, there was the whole thing with Percy.

Irritation bubbled up. Percy was her friend, and they had sex. That did not mean that she owed him her loyalty or even an explanation as to her whereabouts. He was welcome to go off and shag a dozen birds, if it suited him. They were just friends.

Locking eyes with Fred, Audrey smiled her foxiest smile. "Do you know how to make sex on the beach?"

oOo

Fred did not know how to make a sex on the beach or a slippery nipple. The best he could do was splash some fire whisky into a glass of pumpkin juice, which did the trick of making Audrey's head delightfully fuzzy. So when Lee Jordan started up the music, it was all too easy for Audrey to let Fred pull her onto the makeshift dance floor, or more precisely, the spot where two chairs had been pushed aside.

Fred's hands were not long and elegant like Percy's, they were broad and calloused, but so strong. Still, there wasn't that feeling of rightness when Audrey's small hand slipped into Fred's, their hands did not fit. He twirled her around until she was dizzy, then yanked hard so that she fell into his chest. That was broad, too. In fact, Fred was quite stocky. Audrey didn't even need to stand on tiptoe to wrap her arms around his neck like she did with Percy.

Why was she thinking of Percy? None of Fred's smiles had that uncertain quality that Percy's had, and the younger brother had nice blue eyes. Besides, Audrey didn't get a crick in her neck looking up at Fred.

"So," Fred said, his hand low on her hip, "where were you all those years up at Hogwarts? Did they keep you locked up in Ravenclaw tower like some Muggle princess story?"

Audrey shook her head. "I was right there in the library if anybody cared to look."

"Ah, that explains it. Never went near the place if I could help it." He smirked. "Might have changed my mind if I knew I could find little bits of nothing like you there."

Audrey frowned, her foggy mind wasn't sure she liked that. Was it supposed to be some sort of term of endearment? It made her feel like a stuffed kitty or a pet bunny.

"I'm not…bits of nothing."

"I don't know," Fred muttered. His hands spanned around her waist so that the fingers were almost touching. "Look at you. Those big eyes, and tiny…." His eyes dropped to her chest. "Like a porcelain doll."

A warm tingle spread through Audrey's chest, the heat quickly spreading over every inch of her skin, seen and unseen. There was also a sick feeling in her stomach. She shouldn't be here. Wishing her brains cells felt less clumsy, Audrey let her hands slide off of Fred's shoulders to rest on his arms. She felt his bicep flex beneath her touch. Oh, dear.

Her eyes snapped to Fred's face, he was smirking at her.

"Oi, Weasley! Back off a moment, would ya'."

Fred was shoved aside, and in his place was the angry face of Oliver Wood. He still wore his quilted winter coat with the Puddlemere emblem on the breast, leather gloves clutched in one hand and his wand in the other. His eyebrows snapped together, sitting so low over his eyes that he had the appearance of an enraged bulldog. Fred was buzzing around at Oliver's shoulder, he had the Scotsman's breadth but not his height, and that wasn't working in the ginger's favor at the moment for Audrey could not take her eyes off of Oliver Wood.

"May I have a word with you," Oliver said, each word was bit off and spit out.

Audrey couldn't have denied Oliver if she wanted to, not that she was being given any choice. His large, powerful hand was around her arm, and she was being marched through the party like a naughty child. Fred was still there, protesting and angry, but Audrey's ears were completely deaf to the other man. Her eyes were focused straight ahead at the door that would lead into the cold night, half wondering if this was her salvation or her ruin.

"Weasley!" Oliver came to an abrupt halt. He gave Fred a little shove. "If the witch wants to return to you she will be more than free to do so, after I have a private conversation with her. Now back off!"

"You're not my Captain anymore," Fred argued, his face red. "You can't order me about."

Oliver's chest puffed out. "You want to put that theory to the test, shrimp?"

"Stop it!" Alicia snapped, appearing between the two men. "You two are friends, or had you forgotten?"

"You're being awfully high-handed, Wood," Angelina added, coming to Audrey's side.

Audrey swallowed hard. This was getting out of hand, and yet a word from her would set everything aright. So, where were her words, exactly?

Oliver released his hold on Audrey, holding his hands up. "Look, Audrey and I…have some mutual friends…and we need to talk."

Angelina crossed her arms, her eyebrow curved in disgusted disbelief. "Do you want to go with this great lummox, Audrey? Or would you prefer to continue dancing with that idiot?"

"The lummox," Audrey croaked.

With a powerful hand placed gingerly on her back, Audrey found herself being propelled towards the door once more.

"We are not done talking about this, Wood," Angelina warned.

"Shove it, Johnson," he growled back.

Once on the landing outside the third floor flat, Audrey wrapped her arms around herself in a futile attempt to ward off the cold. The snow from the previous week was long gone, just a few dirty patches in the corners of buildings, but the December night air still had a bite to it. The upside, if there was any to be had in this blighted night, was that the frigid chill sobered her up nicely.

"Did I hurt you?" Oliver asked, his voice a not unpleasant rumble in the night.

"No," Audrey answered. She realized then just how gentle his hold on her had actually been. She must have witnessed the Scottish ox playfully shove or punch Percy a half dozen times, always causing Percy to pitch forward or wince. Audrey had always assumed that Oliver didn't know his own strength, but she understood now just how wrong that assumption was. Oliver Wood was well aware of his power, and he parceled it out accordingly.

"What were you doing with Fred?" Oliver demanded. He was angry, but there was a note of something else in his voice, an emotion that Audrey couldn't quite put her finger on.

She looked up at Oliver, trying to form a defense. He had no right to demand answers of her. They were hardly friends, just the friend of a friend, really. As close as Percy and Oliver were, she was sure that he knew the terms of their friendship. He knew, then, that she didn't owe Percy a damn thing.

"Do you know how much it would hurt Percy to see you flirting with Fred?" Oliver asked. "Are you trying to hurt him? Do you want him to be well shut of you?"

Oliver was hurt, that was the other emotion in his voice. He was hurt on his friend's behalf, and it made Audrey hate herself a bit. Tears came to her eyes, and all of her excuses collapsed. Oliver's anger and the cool night air stripped Audrey of her artifice. As hard as it was to admit, Audrey knew that dallying with Fred was the ultimate betrayal of Percy. Flirting with a stranger would drive Percy mad, but Fred wasn't a stranger. He was simply the ultimate mistake. The thing that would hurt Percy so badly that he would push Audrey away for good.

He had gotten too close. That was the truth that Audrey had been trying to deny from the very beginning. She could set all the boundaries she wanted, but Percy had crossed them even before they slept together that first time back in September. He had the power to make her care, but he also had the power to hurt her—unless she hurt him first.

"Ah, don't cry," Oliver muttered. He took off his coat and placed it around Audrey's shoulders.

Audrey sniffed. "Cheers."

"Well…" Oliver prompted.

"I don't have an explanation, if that's what you want." She sniffed again and wiped her eyes with her knuckle.

Oliver shoved his hands in his pockets, watching her carefully. "He's really…." He stopped. "Percy would give you the world if you let him. If you don't want that, then tell him instead of forcing him to break up with you."

"I'm not his—"

"Bullshite."

It was a plain declaration, dismissing all of Audrey's arguments quite elegantly. She blinked, feeling raw and exposed.

"You are his girlfriend in all but name," Oliver said. "All that shite about being friends who shagged, I don't know. Maybe you're just trying to keep Percy at arm's length, maybe you're scared. But it's plain to see that isn't what you really want."

Audrey swallowed hard.

"And Perce—Merlin, Audrey, he has been a closed off wreck for years until you came around. Even before he left his family, he'd crawled so far up his own arse that he was nearly intolerable."

"It's not fair to make me out as his-his savior or something," Audrey fired back. "The only person who can save Percy from himself is…well, him."

"Maybe you're right." Oliver shrugged. "But you make him want to try. And who knows, maybe he could save you a little bit, if you let him."

Audrey shut her eyes. "Are you going to tell him…about tonight?"

"I'll let you do that."

In that moment, Audrey was filled with an equal measure of hatred and love for Percy's best mate. Several expletives chased their tails through Audrey's mind, but she didn't say anything. She needed to go home, she needed to get sober. Maybe in the light of day she could figure out what to do about Percy. One thing seemed apparent: things were not going to continue on as they had been.

"I want to go home," Audrey muttered.

"Why don't I Apparate you," Oliver offered.

It didn't occur to Audrey to argue, she knew she was too pissed to do it herself. After summoning her coat, she walked through the darkened streets with Oliver, silence between them. In the blackness of night, she could almost convince herself that the shops were merely closed instead of shuttered, that the next day the entire Alley would spring to life, ready to invite customers to buy Christmas gifts.

Diagon Alley, and Fred Weasley, were soon a distant memory. She didn't spare Oliver a glance as she hurried away from him and into Seth's building. The hall lights felt harsh on her eyes that were burning with tears. She burst into her brother's flat to find him on the sofa with a crossword puzzle.

"Hey, brat, you're home earlier than expected," Seth said without looking up.

Audrey dove onto the couch next to him, tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Audi?" Seth murmured, putting an arm around her.

"What's wrong with me?" Audrey blubbered.

"Everything."

oOo

There's that old saying—everything will look better in the morning. Well, it was morning, and nothing looked better. Audrey lie curled on the sofa, a pillow pulled over her head, listening as Seth gathered his things and left for work. Last night, she had cried her eyes out on Seth's shoulder, but now she couldn't quite face him. She wasn't much keener to face the coming day, but some things were unavoidable.

When she heard the door click shut and the lock slide in place, Audrey threw the pillow on the floor. Lying here wasn't going to fix anything, not that it could be fixed. She screwed up. Forcing herself off the couch, Audrey pushed herself through her daily routine: folding up her blankets, washing the grit out of her eyes, making herself a bowl of porridge, trying not to think about Percy.

Somewhere in the night, Audrey came to a big realization. Mostly, she realized that she wasn't as clever as she thought she was, but more importantly, she recognized that this person she'd tried to cobble together since graduating from Hogwarts might not be her true self. Oh, there were a few things that were real. Audrey had to admit that her sense of humor always tended to be a bit inappropriate, it was just that there weren't many people around to share it with. Also, she did care, tremendously, about making a difference. Maybe that was the one true thing about herself that had never changed since she was a girl. But this bold woman who slept around—she felt hollow. The truth was, Audrey was the same romantic girl who thrilled at catching a glimpse of Prefect Percy Weasley in the corridors of Hogwarts, only maybe a bit more daft.

It was hard to admit, especially to herself, but Audrey didn't want Percy to just be a friend she shagged. She wanted him to be so much more. She wanted him to be everything. And that scared her. She didn't want to be vulnerable, she didn't want to open herself up to heartbreak, but it was too late. All this time, Audrey had fought the inevitable, but now there was nothing left but to admit what her heart already knew.

Audrey wanted Percy to be her boyfriend.

Bloody hell, it sounded so stupid and juvenile, but there it was at long last. The very thing she'd been denying for months, mostly to herself. It was easy, now, to look back on her behavior and see how hard she'd tried to push Percy away, but he always came back. Well, just as Audrey was finally ready to admit what she wanted,she'd finally succeeded in driving Percy away. Once she told him about Fred…. No, she was definitely not as clever as she thought she was.

Setting aside her spoon, Audrey got up from the kitchen table and crossed to the small chest where she kept her possessions. Pulling up the top drawer, Audrey extracted the cookie tin where she kept the money she earned from her job at the department store. A few weeks ago, Seth had offered to pay for the Christmas gifts to their nieces and siblings if Audrey would do the shopping. Presumably, he wanted Audrey to quit her Muggle job, but she hadn't. This was the first money she earned since August, she liked the independence it offered.

She counted the money out carefully, it wasn't much, but maybe it was enough to make a nice Christmas for Percy. This was one holiday that Percy wouldn't have to spend alone—not entirely at least. Audrey would do this for him, then she would tell Percy about Fred.

Chapter 32

Notes:

The end of this chapter is mildly NOT SAFE FOR WORK.

"Bill, I wasn't expecting you." Arthur Weasley stood from his seat at the kitchen table when his eldest son entered the backdoor. "Let me make you a cuppa."

"Cheers," Bill said, blowing warm air on his cold fingers. There was a chill in the wind that promised another snow soon.

"To what do we owe this visit? We've not seen much of you recently." Dad handed the mug to Bill and motioned for him to take a seat.

Chairs scraped against the hardwood as both men sat at the table. Bill wrapped his hands around the hot mug, the heat seeping into his skin. It was true; Bill and Fleur had only visited the Burrow twice since Ron showed up at Shell Cottage. The war made for an easy excuse, but Bill still felt the sting of a guilty conscience. How was it that he had lived in Egypt for the better part of a decade, rarely visiting home, without a shred of guilt, but now he goes little more than a month without seeing his parents and feels like the lowest form of cockroach?

Bill took a sip of tea, then, "Well, I was hoping to talk to you and Mum for a minute. About Christmas."

For a moment, Dad's eyes narrowed, his brow drawing together, as he scrutinized Bill's face, as if he knew that Bill came bearing bad news. Which, of course, he was. Bill knew that Mum was going to go spare once he told her that he and Fleur would not be joining them for Christmas this year. To be honest, Fleur hadn't been very happy about this decision either. She was just sure that Mum would blame her for this, and honestly, Fleur was probably right. What else could they do? They couldn't leave Ron on Christmas. Still, Bill felt like squirming under the rare scrutiny of Dad's glare.

Just as quickly, Dad's expression cleared, and he sat back in his chair. "Did you listen to Potterwatch last night?"

"Yes. Another report about that damned bloody Scabior."

The Snatcher who attacked Fleur was gaining quite the reputation for viciousness. The body count was mounting, both wizard and goblin, and there were rumors of other abuse as well. Every time the man's name was mentioned on Potterwatch, Bill's blood boiled with the desire to rip the arsehole apart, but then he would see Fleur's pale face. Immediately, Bill's blood would turn to ice.

"He's not bothered Fleur any more?" Dad asked in a quiet voice, leaning his elbows on the table.

Bill shook his head. "I strengthened the wards around Shell Cottage after Fleur was attacked."

"I don't like leaving Molly here alone, and soon Ginny will be home…."

They fell silent as worry pressed in on father and son. It was like the old days. Bill may have only been a child during the first war, but that didn't keep those dark days from coloring his memories. Mum and Dad had drilled Bill and Charlie too many times on what to do if Death Eaters came to the door. They had lain awake many nights, whispering about how they would save all their brothers, and Mum, too. Somehow, they always assumed Dad would be gone to work when the worst happened.

"Eventually," Dad started, "we'll have to put Fidelius Charms on our homes."

"There will be no going to work after that," Bill said. He knew Dad was right.

Dad nodded. "Your mother has begun to stockpile food and potions…. It seems so extreme, doesn't it?"

"We live in extreme times."

"There are times I want to walk out of the Ministry, come straight home, and cast it immediately…but then I think of Ron. What if he needs to come home, and he can't find it? So I tell myself, wait…just a little longer."

Guilt pricked at Bill's innards. With just a few words, Bill could lay to rest his father's concerns, but he didn't. Bill hadn't gone back on his promise to Ron yet, and he wasn't going to now. Besides, Bill suspected that Ron would be taking off soon. The last thing his parents needed was to watch their youngest son run headlong into danger again.

"And then," Dad added quietly, "there's Percy."

Dad kept his eyes trained on the mug of tea before him. In two and half years, he hadn't uttered Percy's name, maybe out of hurt or anger or pride. Where Mum's emotions burst out of her, Dad kept his close. Now, Bill didn't know what to say, or what Dad wanted to hear. Bill couldn't tell Dad about all that Percy had done for the Order of Mercy anymore than he could tell Dad about Ron.

"We can wait a little longer," Bill said at last, his voice raspy.

Dad blinked a few times, but the moment was broken by Mum trundling down the stairs with a wicker basket.

"Oh Bill, dear, I didn't know you were coming for dinner."

"I can't stay, I'm afraid," Bill said, shaking off the weight of emotion. "I have to get back to Fleur before she worries."

"Well, why didn't she come along?" Mum said, her voice a bit huffy as the basket thunked onto the tabletop.

There was no way to answer that question without earning a good telling off, so Bill decided to plunge forward.

"I just came by to talk to you about Christmas," Bill said.

"Oh, good!" Mum smiled broadly. "I've been trying to talk Remus and Tonks into coming around again this year—Andromeda, too. We'll have a proper houseful, even thought Charlie's in Romania and Ron's who-knows-where, and Percy…. Well, I'll make a big turkey. I know Fleur will want to bring something, but tell her it's not necessary. I have it all in hand and—"

"Mum," Bill interrupted. "Fleur and I decided to celebrate Christmas at Shell Cottage this year—alone."

Mum's face turned red, her mouth pulling into a deep frown.

"Now, Molly," Dad interjected. "You remember what it's like to be newlywed."

"I most certainly do not! We had a one-month-old baby our first Christmas, Arthur, but we still bundled ourselves up and visited your mother and brothers. We wouldn't have dreamed of missing a family Christmas."

"Yes, and as I recall, Billius put frog spawn in your boots. We would have been much happier if we'd just skipped it."

Mum harrumphed, marching around the table and grabbing a wooden spoon from the crock. "You don't just skip family, Arthur. Is this Fleur's idea?"

It occurred to Bill that Ron was going to owe Fleur big time for this.

"No," Bill said quickly. This was going to be a delicate balance. Either he allowed Mum to continue to blame Fleur and get himself kicked out of bed, or he did something to make Mum mad at him. Well, it was no choice really. "Entirely my idea. We didn't have a honeymoon, and I wanted Fleur all to myself for a few days."

Mum puffed up like a hen. "Poor Ginny will be here all alone, with none of her brothers—"

"What about Fred and George? Not exactly the red headed step kids, are they?"

"You know what I mean!"

"Besides, Ginny will be happier to see Tonks than Fleur."

"That is not the point!"

"The point is that I've already made up my mind. We'll see you in the New Year."

oOo

"Hurry up!" Fleur urged from the base of the staircase. "He will be home soon, and I want it all to be parfait."

"I could do this with magic. It would go faster," Ron grumbled, red ribbon clutched between his teeth. He reached up to attach a glittering starfish over the front door.

Fleur sniffed. "I have seen what you can do wiz magic."

"One blown up tea kettle—you don't even like tea!"

As soon as Bill left for work that morning, Fleur had woken Ron, which was easier said than done. In the end, she poured an ewer over his head. He had been red faced and angry, but he was awake. The morning was spent collecting seashells, sand dollars, and starfish from the beach to make the house pretty for Christmas. Fleur did not have any Christmas ornaments. If things were different, her maman would have given her beautiful, French made orbs and stars, but alas that was not to be. Instead, Fleur spent hours using magic to turn the things she found on the beach into sparkling, colorful decorations. Now, employing Ron's great height, she was hanging her creations from the ceiling by ribbons throughout the first floor of Shell Cottage.

"What is all this?"

Fleur spun about, hair flying around her, to see Bill standing in the threshold of the kitchen. Twinkling eyes surveyed the display before him, a grin tugging at his mouth. He still wore the blue, merino wool scarf Fleur had bought him the previous Christmas, his hair spread out around his shoulders. He looked so handsome that Fleur's breath caught in her chest for the split second before she threw herself into his arms.

"Joyeux Noël, mon Bill!"

Chuckling softly, Bill kissed her. "Happy Christmas to you." He looked around. "I see you've been busy."

"Your wife is mental," Ron complained.

"Be that as it may, I hope you have room for this."

Bill flicked his wand, and a small tree floated into the room.

"Oh!" Fleur squealed, clapping her hands together.

"It was the best I could get," Bill said. "Bit small, but—"

He was cut off by Fleur's kiss.

"Oi, you two, cool it," Ron grumbled. "Does this mean I have to collect more damn seashells?"

"I'll help," Bill said.

Christmas Eve had come to Shell Cottage, finally! Fleur had been feeling a bit melancholy over the last few days. Bill had a word for it? A color? Grey? That seemed a good way to describe it because she had felt very dull and cloudy on the inside. Christmas in England had been difficult for her the previous year, with Molly and Ginny's animosity, but this year was especially grim. Aside from the war, Fleur missed her family. She wished desperately that she were sitting beside the hearth plaiting her sister's hair, a huge tree groaning under the weight of glass ornaments. It was only that morning that something of the Christmas spirit had infused Fleur's soul.

It was her first Christmas as a married woman, after all. War or no war, she and Bill should be making their own traditions. More than that, Fleur would not let a tyrant destroy the small joys in life. She would celebrate Christmas as an act of defiance. Every seashell she decorated and hung was to brighten her Bill's life, but it was also to spit in the eye of You-Know-Who.

Fleur was making biscuits and singing French carols when the men returned, laughing and windswept, with a bucket full of seashells. Seeing the joy in Bill's face as he teased his brother, Fleur let herself think of the future just for a moment. She imagined a daughter with blonde hair hanging off Bill's leg and a son with red hair swiping a biscuit. With an ache in her chest, Fleur hid a secret smile. She did not allow herself to think that far into the future very often, it seemed too impractical, but it was a delicious fantasy.

"We found the star for the top of the tree," Bill announced, holding up a large starfish.

"Zat is very impressive. I have not seen one so big before."

"It might have had a bit of magical alteration," Bill admitted, and kissed her. "Help us decorate."

"When I am done here."

oOo

There was a vendor near the tube that sold Christmas trees. After her final shift as Santa's elf, Audrey stood with her head cocked to one side, staring at three evergreens in buckets. One of them barely had any needles left, another was squat and fat, while the third was quite tall. All of them were lopsided. Not that it mattered, Audrey could fix most imperfections with her wand.

Would the tall one be too tall? The sign gave the measurements in meters and not feet, and while Audrey had a basic understanding of the metric system, she still had trouble converting. Merlin, if she were honest, she had trouble picturing what three meters was in comparison. Was that like six feet? That would probably fit into Percy's flat. Regardless, it was a tall tree, and Audrey was thankful that all she had to do was drag it around a corner before Apparating to Percy's block.

Impulsively, Audrey handed over the money (goodness, pounds did not seem to go very far). Eyeing the overly tall tree, Audrey wondered how best to drag it. She tried wrapping her arms around the middle, and while her middle was protected by her woolen coat, the needles scratched her face. Bending down, Audrey grabbed the bucket the tree sat in and gave it a good tug. The cold air wafting up her skirt let her know that her knickers were hanging out for all of London to see. Worse, the tree weighed as much as a mountain troll, only less moveable.

"Oi, miss, you need help with that?"

Audrey straightened, flashing a grateful smile at the vendor. "Cheers, but I have it."

Looking around to make sure no one was watching, Audrey pulled out her wand from her purse. Keeping it close to her body, she cast an avoidance charm to keep prying eyes looking elsewhere. Then she placed a featherweight charm on the stupid tree. She would like to just do a nice Locomotor spell while she was at it, but knew that would attract too much attention. She could just imagine Percy's face if she got arrested buying a tree for him on Christmas Eve.

Bending over once more, she grabbed hold of the bucket and yanked. Her spell had worked, maybe a little too well. The tree lurched forward with such ease that Audrey fell on her bottom and the damn thing nearly toppled over on her. Standing, brushing snow and dirt from herself, Audrey swore that after the war she would never buy another Muggle Christmas tree as long as she lived.

The avoidance charm had the added benefit of causing the Muggles to part before her on the sidewalk so that she had little trouble getting the few feet to the empty alley and Disapparating into the backstreet near Percy's building. A few more feet of dragging, which wasn't fun up the steps to the door, but once she had the blasted tree inside, she Levitated it up to Percy's flat and into his bedroom. That was when Audrey realized that three meters was much more than six feet.

Standing back and staring up at the tree in bewildered disbelief, Audrey wondered if she could shrink it. The top of the tree not only brushed up against the ceiling, but curved over a good foot or two. Audrey nearly cried from frustration. All she wanted at that point was a Butterbeer and a hot shower.

Shower, definitely shower first. It would be easier to think after she was clean.

Aside from the usual "no gifts" rule, Audrey and Percy had agreed that she should spend the holiday with her family. Audrey hadn't even used her "just friends" argument, it was Percy's idea. Still, that meant he would be alone on Christmas. Audrey knew that this wouldn't be the first Christmas that Percy had spent alone, but that didn't mean she liked it. Nobody should be alone on Christmas.

What she wished was to give Percy a nice Christmas. She told herself this did not qualify as a present. She told herself that it was out of guilt for the whole Fred thing, which she still hadn't confessed to. Honestly though, Audrey was running out of excuses, and she knew it. She was doing this because she cared for Percy, and as more than just a friend.

Standing under the hot water, Audrey could almost admit that Percy cared for her in return. But when had caring ever led to anything but hurt? Her parents cared for her, that didn't cause them to pay her any attention. Sometime soon, Audrey would have to tell Percy about Fred, and that would be the end of their friendship. She could at least give him a nice Christmas before that happened.

After drying herself off and fixing her hair and make up, Audrey dug out the lingerie she had bought at a Muggle shop called Victoria's Secret. It was named for the queen, Audrey thought, who was apparently a very naughty girl under all of that black crinoline. She also thought very highly of her underwear. Audrey had considered doing up a Christmas meal for Percy, but hadn't been able to afford a ham after buying the lacy bra, satin knickers, and candy cane striped stockings.

She turned around so she could see her bum in the mirror. Across her red satin-covered bottom were gold letters spelling out "Ho! Ho! Ho!" which made Audrey giggle every time. Pulling on her elf's uniform—modifying the top so that it dipped a bit lower than propriety allowed—Audrey wasn't sure if she had managed sexy, or if she was just cute. It didn't matter, she supposed, she knew how this evening would end.

The fire was crackling in the bedroom hearth, and Audrey was using her wand to decorate the ridiculous tree. It took up entirely too much space in Percy's bedroom. Maybe she should move it into the sitting room, but she had this whole romantic idea of creating a Christmas cabin in his bedroom. Grunting and cursing, she pushed the bucket a few feet. The featherweight charm did not make the thing any less cumbersome. There, at least they wouldn't trip over it on their way to the bed.

"Declare yourself!"

Audrey whipped around to see Percy standing against the bedroom door, wand in hand. He was home sooner than she expected, and by the look on his face he was hoping to have a spot of fun with the whole situation. Cocking her hip out, and propping one hand there, she shot him her foxiest smile.

"Audrey Sprayberry, as well you know," she replied.

"Prove it."

"On September 2, you brought me to your flat and shagged me next to the coffee table hardly five minutes later."

Percy turned red, but he was grinning. "Let the record show, I made you cum not a half an hour after that."

She giggled and rocked onto her toes. "Duly noted, Gryffindor."

"So, this getup…what are you supposed to be?" Percy leaned against the doorjamb and indicated her outfit with his wand.

Audrey looked down at herself. This was technically her uniform, and she was not meant to leave the store with it. Little green skirt with braces, red top, even belled elf booties. The candy cane stockings were her own addition.

"I'm one of Santa's elves, of course."

Percy arched one eyebrow. "Really? Santa's elves are scantily clad sex kittens, then?"

"Well, this is what Muggles think elves look like," she amended and did a little turn so he could get the full effect. She flipped the skirt up so he got a glimpse of her knickers. "This is what I have been doing at the department store," Audrey explained. "I am Santa's helper. I help all the greedy, fat, sticky Muggle children into Santa's lap, then send them on their way with a candy cane."

She crossed the room and grabbed hold of his tie.

"Muggles think it's appropriate to expose children to so much cleavage?" Percy asked.

Audrey ran one hand down the length of Percy's tie, then looked up at him under her eyelashes. "I might have altered the uniform a bit for one particularly good boy."

"I suppose I am never destined to be the naughty boy, am I?" Percy returned with a grin as Audrey led him into the room by his tie.

"Oh, I don't know. Not a bad boy, certainly, but you've done some naughty things to me."

Percy shrugged out of his robes, tossing them in the direction of the bed. His shoes went next, he used his wand to levitate them into their designated spot. Audrey couldn't help but laugh at her preposterously fastidious lover. He couldn't just rip his clothes off like other men. No, everything in its place.

"What do your knickers say?" he asked.

Her eyebrows shot up. "Now, where is the fun in telling you, Gryffindor?"

Untangling her hand from his tie, Audrey began to pull it off, followed by his shirt, letting them fall at his feet. It made a nice contrast to his neatly tucked away shoes. Raking her nails over his bare chest, Audrey nuzzled Percy's neck and his jaw as he brushed his fingers through her silky, dark waves.

Pulling away, Audrey yanked her top off to reveal the lacy confection underneath. The bra pushed up her meager breasts so that they looked like pale, ripe peaches, and if the way Percy hummed was any indication, he approved. Deliberately, and with feather light gentleness, Percy traced the tops of her breasts with his lips. Then he reached around and removed her bra with one skillful flick of his fingers. It too fell into the pile of clothes.

"Show off," she complained, her mouth pursed to keep from laughing.

Percy's eyes flicked up to her face, and he grinned. "Would you like me to put it back on?" He cupped one breast in his large hand. "Or would you prefer that I continue on my current course?"

"By all means." Audrey wanted to sound blasé, as if it didn't matter to her one way or the other if they shagged or not, but she knew she failed.

"Well then," he murmured and drew her in for a kiss.

Audrey's bare chest came in contact with his, the friction of her smooth skin against the rough hair of his chest taking her breath away. The kiss was purposefully slow. Just a nibble as his hands spread across the narrow expanse of her back. Then he sucked her lip between his, and Audrey whinged audibly. Merlin, he was good at this, already she felt a rush of desire between her thighs.

Percy dropped down to one knee. Startled, Audrey teetered, but Percy's long hands around her waist steadied her. He placed kisses over her flat belly, the delicate curve of the underside of her breasts. Goose pimples rippled over Audrey's skin, she clutched his bare shoulders in an attempt to draw him nearer, but Percy resisted. Instead he propped one foot on his thigh, bending her leg at the knee. Circling her slim ankle with his hand, he stole a look at her face. Audrey was nearly vibrating with anticipation. There were just so many things she wanted him to do to her at that level.

"Candy cane stockings?" he asked, trailing his fingers up her calf over the silky material, Audrey shivered. "I always liked candy canes. I liked sucking on them until they got all sticky." He tickled the back of her knee, her fingers flexed on his shoulders. "I liked the sweet flavor and the way they'd leave my mouth all messy." He looked up at her as he pressed a kiss into her knee. "Yes," he said thoughtfully as he caressed her inner thigh, her muscles quivering, "I think we will keep these on. Yes?"

Audrey nodded her head, her mouth felt dry. "Yes."

A little higher and Percy found where Audrey's stockings ended. Nudging her skirt back, he grasped her hips and kissed that narrow band of naked skin. Audrey's hips thrust forward, all too aware of how close Percy's mouth was to her center.

"Percy," she gasped.

He nuzzled her satin-covered womanhood with his nose, eliciting a strangled little scream from Audrey, her hips bucking against him again. She went to bury her hands in his curls, but he caught her wrists and held her arms behind her back. With a wicked grin, he had her flipped over his knee before she knew what he was about. Audrey squealed, wiggling in his grasp, her thigh brushing against his erection still trapped in his trousers.

"Shh, minx," he hushed, one hand gently running up the back of her thigh.

Audrey stilled, looking back at him from over her shoulder. He smirked at her.

"I just wanted to get a better look," he said.

"You could have just asked."

"Where is the fun in asking?"

Flipping up Audrey's skirt revealed her creamy, white thighs, shiny, red knickers, and the words emblazoned across her arse. Audrey held her breath, waiting for Percy's reaction. She wasn't disappointed. Glancing over her shoulder, their eyes locked. Merriment danced behind his glasses, then he grinned broadly. Laughter bust out of Audrey, and she wriggled her arse in the air. His deeper chuckle joined hers until Percy collapsed onto his bottom on the floor with Audrey sprawled across his lap. She squirmed around until she was in a sitting position, kissing him. They weren't laughing anymore.

"'Ho! Ho! Ho!' indeed," Percy muttered against her lips.

Chapter 33

Notes:

The first scene contains material that is NOT SAFE FOR WORK. By the way, if you are familiar with my work then you may have recognize the candy cane stockings from last week's chapter. They first appeared from Percy's POV in my Christmas collection, A Very Weasley Christmas.

"Bloody hell," Percy muttered and shifted his bare backside on the wood floor. There wasn't a spot of Percy's body that didn't tingle with the aftershocks of pleasure. Even his mind was happily disengaged. The only thing he was aware of in this world was how good and sleepy he felt, and Audrey's lovely feminine form sprawled at his side. "I think I've got pine needles poking me in the rear."

"They were sticking me in the knees," Audrey said, rolling onto her back and stretching.

"What?" Percy demanded, half sitting up. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Audrey pushed him back down with a roll of her eyes. "What? I should have said, 'Excuse me, Percy, could you please stop shagging me senseless, I've got a wee bit of discomfort.' I don't bloody well think so."

"Still, we could move to the bed."

"No, I like it right here, thank you."

Audrey was looking up at the twinkling tree. The fairy lights were reflecting in her eyes, and the firelight from the hearth warmed her dark hair. It was rather magical.

Percy groped around for his wand, not wanting to move too far from the body next to his. He found it tangled with their clothes and pulled it free. First, he performed a handy little spell that cleaned both of them up a bit and made Audrey giggle ("That tickles!"). Then he summoned the pillows and counterpane from his bed. Audrey watched with an amused grin as he jostled her around, making a little nest for the two of them. Finally, when Percy lie back down, Audrey rolled into him, resting her head on his shoulder and draping her leg over his. She placed her hand over his heart.

"Why did you get such a big tree?" he asked after some time.

Audrey glanced up at it. "I bought it at a Muggle stand near the Tube. The measurement was in meters, not feet, so I wasn't sure exactly how big it was until I got it into your flat."

"Still, you couldn't look at it and think, 'That's bloody big.'"

"Percy," she gave him an incredulous look, "are you complaining about my inability to judge an object's size?" She gave his waist a pointed look. "Have you any idea what I've been telling my friends?"

He felt the blush creep up his neck and into his face. Was she saying…. Did she mean…. Surely, she was just taking the mickey, he knew she was taking the mickey. Merlin, he hoped she was taking the mickey. As far as he knew, her friends consisted of Fleur, Angelina Johnson, and Alicia Spinnet. All of them were too well connected to his brothers for comfort. The last thing he wanted was for any of those women repeating Audrey's claims to…. Percy goosed Audrey.

"Minx."

She giggled into his shoulder. "Like you couldn't stand it if that got back to your brothers."

"Audrey," Percy huffed. "The Burrow has one bathroom. One. Do you know what that means?"

She looked at him with a very self-satisfied smile. "Enlighten me."

"It means I've spent most of my life pissing behind a tree in the orchard and having one of the twins walk in on me. My brothers will know that is a lie."

Audrey was laughing outright now, and soon Percy found himself laughing, too. Because he always laughed when she did. He felt that bubble of happiness form in his chest, the one that he'd only ever experienced when Audrey was laughing.

"Honestly," he said, skimming his hand down her slender back. "How did you afford all this?"

She leaned her chin on her hand so that she could look at him. "Seth told me that if I did all the shopping, he would let me put my name on the gifts, too."

Percy felt a rush of fondness for the brother closest to Audrey in age. Seth made a big show of being annoyed by Audrey (and Percy rather thought there was a lot of truth to that) but he had a way of doting on her. Percy rather admired Seth Sprayberry, really. The ginger wizard hoped the sentiment went both ways, but rather doubted it. Every big brother cell in Percy's body told him that one simply does not like the bloke shagging one's little sister.

"Well, anyway," Audrey continued. "I figured I would use the money I was making to do…all this."

She sat up, stark naked and cross-legged, to admire the tree again. "I bought the bra and knickers at this Muggle shop called Victoria's Secret. And her secret, evidently, is that she is a slag. So, I thought I would do up a little dinner, but Muggle underwear is a lot more expensive than I would have imagined."

"And you thought I'd rather have a bite out of your arse than a bit of ham?"

Mischief sparkled in Audrey's eyes when she looked at him. "Besides, I'm a lousy cook, but I'm a pretty good shag."

Percy laughed, tracing lines up and down her inner thigh with his fingertips. "Still, I thought we weren't doing the gift thing."

Audrey shrugged one shoulder. "This isn't a gift, it's just an elaborate way to get in your pants."

"Really?" He cocked one eyebrow. "Because showing up on my doorstep wouldn't have worked?"

She tucked her hair behind her ear and looked at her lap. "I didn't want you to be alone on Christmas, Percy."

For a moment, Percy just stared at Audrey, a heavy ache in his chest. They were just friends who shagged, that's what she kept telling him, but he had long left friendship behind. He cared for Audrey, and in moments like this, Percy thought she might care for him as well—more than she would prefer to admit.

Abruptly, Percy sat up. Audrey looked at him from under her eyelashes. Merlin, she was so pretty. He cupped the back of her head in his hand and kissed her. It was soft and chaste and spoke of gratitude. All those feelings Percy had harbored for so long swelled up in his chest until he could hardly breathe for how much it hurt. He couldn't play her game any more, he couldn't wait for the day she woke up and realized he wasn't going to hurt her, not if he could help it. Those emotions needed—no, they demanded to be let out.

"Next Christmas," he said, licking his suddenly dry lips, eyes still closed, "maybe the war will be over, and I'll be home at the Burrow. Bill and Fleur will probably have a baby by then."

Audrey laughed, it was small and tremulous. "I give them two weeks after the war ends to begin repopulating the Wizarding world."

"Ron and Ginny will be safe and sound." He had to push forward, he had to say what was in his heart, and he couldn't let Audrey distract him. "Charlie will visit from Romania with a few more burn marks. The twins will take the mickey out of me, but I'll remember to laugh along because they don't really mean anything by it…and because you'll be with me, yes?"

For a moment, it felt as if Percy's heart stopped, then it burst into life, beating so loudly against his ribs that he was sure Audrey could hear it. She wasn't looking at him, or maybe she wouldn't. Yet he could sense the battle she was waging with herself. What more could he say? Was there some magical combination of words that would make Audrey trust him? For all the self-righteous speeches Percy had given about the importance of rules and ambition and the thickness of caldron bottoms, no words came to him in that moment. Maybe he could beg, but that would just pile on the pressure and make Audrey turn away from him. No, she had to meet him half way. The thirty seconds that stretched between them felt like an eternity until, finally, she touched his chest.

"I like the sound of that," she whispered, turning big, vulnerable eyes up at him.

Grinning and laughing, Percy kissed Audrey more soundly this time. When he broke away, he jumped up, and she nearly toppled over. He just grinned some more; he couldn't help himself. His heart swelled in a new way that made him want to laugh and smile and run to the top of the tallest building he could find and shout, "Happy Christmas!"

Instead, he went to his nightstand and fetched a long, narrow box out of the drawer.

"I bought you a gift," he said. "It's not much and I didn't wrap it because…."

Accepting the gift, Audrey's eyes sneaked to his face through her curtain of hair. She clutched the box tightly in an effort to hide how they were shaking, but Percy noticed. Settling in cross-legged before her on the counterpane, Percy marveled at her courage. If there had been any doubt in his mind about what a big leap Audrey was making, this was a humble reminder.

"Well," he said, trying not to sound anxious, "are you going to open it?"

Audrey pulled the lid off to find the everlasting poppy necklace he'd bought all those weeks ago in Hogsmeade. She ran her fingers over the glass terrarium lightly.

"Oh, Percy..." She looked at him, her eyes glistening, her smile a softer version of its normal radiance. "Thank you," she whispered.

Taking the box, he smiled. "Here, let me…."

Audrey turned around, presenting him with her bare back, and held her hair out of the way. Percy placed the necklace around her slender neck, then worked the clasp without much fuss. He kissed her behind the ear, at the base of her neck, on her back. She looked at him over her shoulder so he kissed her mouth, too.

"So, are-are you my boyfriend?" she asked, a small laugh escaping her on the last word. "That sounds silly."

"Silly or not, I think you're stuck with me for as long as you'll have me…girlfriend." Percy wrapped his arms around her shoulders from behind, pulling her into his lap, and kissing the top of her silky head.

"I've never had a boyfriend before."

Leaning her head against his shoulder, Audrey's unfocused eyes stared at the flames of the fire, but Percy watched her. The muscles of her face were relaxed, her lips turned up at the corners. It wasn't a smile exactly, more like the physical manifestation of a sigh. Contentment, he thought, which was even better than happiness.

Happiness came and went, even in the darkest of times. Hadn't he learned that over the last several years? Even when he was in the grips of self-loathing, a moment of happiness could flare, throwing bright relief on the darkness of his life for a brilliant moment. But contentment was something Percy had rarely felt in his life. The desire to stay in that exact moment, even if that moment lasted decades, was something altogether new and welcome. He liked seeing Audrey in that state of being, and it seemed as though his very soul sighed with an answering call.

Of course, not everything was content. Parts of him were jolting back to life against Audrey's bum despite his philosophical waxings. As he watched, the corners of Audrey's mouth twitched, then she wiggled her bottom against him.

"Minx," he groaned.

Turning in his arms, Audrey straddled his lap. "Weren't we just doing this?"

"We don't—"

Audrey pressed her mouth to his. "Shhh."

Keeping his hands curled around Audrey's hips, Percy ceded control to her. He just closed his eyes and let lust swamp his senses as Audrey's tongue swept past his lips. The hot urgency that fired so many of their shagging sessions wasn't there, and not because they had already done it not twenty minutes before. Percy wasn't trying to establish his dominance, and Audrey wasn't challenging him until finally she gave in (it was unspoken, but they both knew Audrey liked to be a bit submissive in bed). Instead, Audrey's hands moved languidly over his shoulders and down his chest. He gasped when she brushed across his nipples.

"Do you like that?" Audrey cooed, her lips moving over his chin to his throat.

"You know I do," he panted, his hands tightening on her hips.

"Mmm."

The inside of Percy's head turned blindingly white. Audrey kissed her way down his chest, nipping at his nipple. Groaning, Percy forgot how to breathe. And her hands. They were on his flanks, the flat of his stomach, the nest of pubic hair around his cock, his thighs. Merlin, he loved the way her hands swept up his thighs, so tantalizing close to his manhood.

Moving up his chest again, Audrey sucked on the pulse point in his neck, and then her questing hand cupped his scrotum. There were bright blue and red splashes of color across Percy's mind. Gently, she squeezed him, and he nearly choked. Coherent thought was something other men did, because Percy Weasley was certainly incapable. Forcing his eyes open, Percy watched a moment as Audrey teased him.

His hands traveled up Audrey's back until he was cupping the back of her head in both. Drawing her up, he kissed her again. Small, nibbling kisses. Her hands were splayed across his chest, her body tight with anticipation. He thrust into her mouth, she sucked on him as he pulled out again. Meanwhile, his hands had begun their own quest.

At that moment in time, Percy only wanted two things: to be inside of Audrey and to watch her cum. Those two things did not normally go together. Still kissing her, Percy fondled Audrey's breasts, feeling her nipples harden into points between his fingers. Audrey moaned into their kiss, her hips rocking against him, and Percy knew that was his cue.

His hand quested down over her soft belly, grazing her belly button.

"Percy!" Audrey pulled back, squirming away slightly.

"Shh, minx."

Her womanhood was already slick as his fingers moved through her folds. Percy never took his glasses off when he shagged Audrey, and this was why. Her head tilted back, her hair falling away from her face, her lips parting just a breath's width. He found her clitoris and watched as her eyelids fluttered. There was no hiding, just Audrey, and she was beautiful in her open vulnerability.

Audrey's fingers dug into Percy's shoulders. He teased her, coaxed her, brought her to the edge. That pretty mouth formed a trembling "O," her moans reaching a new register. Some primal part of his body grew tight, ready to pounce, but he held back. With her hips moving against his hand, Audrey reached her peek. Every muscle in her body was taught, her mound tight against his palm, and then it happened. Quaking and collapsing, she dissolved into him.

And that's when Percy's body sprang. Hands on her hips, he entered her warmth quickly, hissing at being encased in liquid heat, but then he held still. Her brown eyes were open, soft with sated need, and watching him. He'd often wondered at the emotion he saw in Audrey's eyes after orgasm, hoping that it was a look reserved for him, that it meant she cared for him. Maybe more than cared? He moved his hips as that thought caused a pang in his heart. It was too soon to dare hope for more.

Audrey took the initiative. Kissing him, tilting her hips back, then thrusting against him. Percy's hands shook as they moved up her back. His mind spotless as nothing registered besides sensation and pleasure. It was overwhelming, her tongue in his mouth, his cock inside of her. That primal part of him was twisted so tight in his belly that it vibrated into each of his limbs. Pulling away from the kiss, Percy pressed his face into Audrey's sweat damp neck, harsh gasps forcing their way through his clenched teeth with each rock of his hips until finally he came.

"Happy Christmas," Audrey whispered into his ear. "My Gryffindor."

oOo

Ron flicked open the silver contraption in his hand, and all of the twinkling lights from the Christmas tree zoomed across the room and into the old lighter, leaving the fire in the hearth as the only light source.

"Huh," Ron said, looking at the device. "I thought it would put out the fire, too."

"I'm glad it didn't," Bill remarked. "Is that the thing Dumbledore bequeathed you?"

"The Deluminator, yeah." He flicked it again, and the lights returned to their proper place.

The night was growing late. Fleur had served them biscuits and wine for supper, then tried to teach Bill and Ron how to sing French carols. She'd wrinkled her nose in disgust as they botched up the accent, declaring them as bad as Celestina Warbeck. Now, Ron sat in the armchair playing with the Deluminator, and Bill sat on the couch, with Fleur's head in his lap and a glass of wine in hand. As far as nights before Christmas went, this wasn't a bad one.

"I was going through my things when I found it," Ron said. "Figured I should take stock of my supplies."

"Why's that?" Bill asked mildly, running his fingers through Fleur's hair.

Ron shrugged. "It'll be New Year's soon, won't it? That'll mark two months here, and-and I think it's time I go find them."

"Have you any idea where to start looking?"

"No clue."

"Give it a few days, will you? I'll pick up some food and potions for you to take along when you go."

"Money, too," Fleur murmured, she was tracing the weave in Bill's jeans with her thumbnail.

"Cheers." Ron flicked the Deluminator open again. "I have to admit, I'm not looking forward to mushrooms and nicked eggs again, but it doesn't matter. I need to be out there, with Harry and Hermione. It's where I belong."

The conversation was all very blasé, just as if they were speaking of the weather and not of Ron going on the run with the two most wanted wizards in Britain. Bill knew, just as Ron did, that was where Ron belonged, but it didn't make him worry any less. In fact, the urge to lock Ron in his room without a wand was strong, but the young man sitting before Bill was not the same as the one who appeared on the beach on Halloween. Ron was healthy and whole again, but it was more than that. Bill had sensed a growing confidence in Ron ever since the full moon. The idea of Ron roaming the countryside aimlessly in search of Harry and Hermione was an unpleasant one, but Bill had to admit that it was time for Ron to leave.

Fleur sat up, and glanced at her watch. "Alors! It is two o'clock. Christmas morning."

"Happy Christmas, Mrs. Weasley," Bill said, pulling Fleur close for a kiss.

"You two are appalling," Ron grumbled.

"Just because you wish you had someone special to snog…."

"Wiz very bushy hair," Fleur added trillingly and giggled when Ron scowled.

"Let's go to bed, love." Bill stood and pulled Fleur up by the hand. "Look at this mess."

Fleur scrunched her nose in disgust. "Zee kitchen is worse."

"Go up to bed," Ron said as he, too, stood. "I'll clean up. Consider it my Christmas gift to you."

"Cheers." Bill wrapped his arms around Ron's shoulders. "Happy Christmas, baby brother. Don't stay up too late."

Ron thumped Bill on the back. "You sound like Mum. Anyway, I'll clean and then I think I'll listen to some Christmas songs on the wireless…reminds me of home, you know?"

"Tomorrow, I will roast a chicken," Fleur said, moving into hug Ron, too. "Or later today, I suppose. Nothing fancy."

"Sounds wonderful."

Hand in hand, wishing Ron a Happy Christmas one more time, Bill and Fleur disappeared upstairs. Once in their bedroom, Fleur scampered into the bathroom, returning some minutes later with her hairbrush, wearing flannel pajamas. She sat on the corner of the bed, her eyes trained on the ends of her hair as she dragged the brush through it.

"I did not make you a Christmas gift," she admitted quietly.

Bill pulled on his pajama bottoms, tossing his shirt into the hamper, and missing. "I wasn't expecting anything."

"But it is our first Christmas as a married couple. I should have got you something special."

Stretching out alongside her, Bill said, "It won't be our last. You have at least fifty more Christmases to buy me something special."

"Fifty? Bah! You are not allowed out of zis marriage until we have celebrated at least seventy-five years of wedded bliss."

"Hm, that would make me one-hundred-and-two. Were you planning to trade me in for a younger model at that point? I think we could easily make it one hundred years."

Fleur leaned down to kiss him. "Zis is dangerous talk, mon Bill."

"Live dangerously with me, Fleur Weasley."

"Always."

oOo

Audrey woke with a start. The room was dark, and her heart was hammering against her ribs. What woke her? Was it a dream? What had she been dreaming? She looked around, her eyes adjusting to the blackness of the night, except it wasn't quite night any more. The Tempus charm read 4:23, almost Christmas morning. The man beside her stirred slightly. Her boyfriend.

A smile almost worked its way on to Audrey's face, but quickly withered. She remembered what woke her: guilt. Drawing her knees up to her chest, Audrey stared at Percy's slumbering form. He'd made them some nice ham sandwiches, consumed naked under blankets on the sofa, then they crawled into bed to finish their Christmas celebrations. As boyfriend and girlfriend.

For less than twelve hours, Audrey had been Percy's girlfriend. What had she been thinking? She touched the globe of the tiny terrarium that hung around her neck. She tried to tell herself that Percy had caught her in a weak moment, but that was a lie. When he spoke of celebrating Christmas with his family after the war ended, when he included her in his little fantasy, Audrey had very much wanted to be there. She wanted to see Percy returned to his family, to feel the love of the Burrow, to be by his side and feel his love. Even though every warning bell in her head was ringing loudly: he will never love you for long!

Still, she had told that voice to stuff it and swept away the last of her boundaries. Or had she? Tears burnt at Audrey's eyes. There was still one thing that she held between Percy and herself, the thing that would end their all-too-brief relationship.

Fred.

Audrey snuffled, trying to stifle her cries so as not wake Percy. She could just let Oliver be the one to blow it all apart. Once Percy told him the supposedly good news, Audrey figured the hulking Quidditch player would come clean. That was a cowardly way to go. No, she would be the one to tell Percy. Could she wait until after Christmas?

She knew she was just making up excuses, trying to prolong this small spot of happiness. It wasn't fair to keep the secret from Percy, but was it fair to ruin his Christmas? Audrey suspected that he had experienced a fair few rotten holidays over the years.

"Audrey?"

Going rigid, Audrey didn't say anything for fear of her voice betraying her.

Percy's hand brushed against her hip sleepily. "Come back to bed, minx."

Nestling into his arms, head on his chest, Audrey said, "Percy, I did a bad thing."

"Mm, what's that?" His voice was still thick with sleep.

Tears slid down Audrey's nose and splashed on his chest.

"Audrey?" He half sat up, his voice much more alert. "What's wrong, love?"

"A-a couple of weeks ago, I went to a party."

There was a moment where Percy said nothing, then, "Oh?"

"I got a bit carried away flirting and dancing…."

"We-we weren't anything but friends then."

"It was Fred," Audrey whispered.

Percy sat up fully, flinging his arms over his raised knees.

"Nothing happened," she blurted. "Oliver showed up actually and told me off and—"

"Would you have slept with my brother?"

Audrey thought about this for a moment. She had asked herself this same question many times, but hadn't come up with a satisfying answer. That night, she'd certainly been trying to talk herself into it, but she wasn't sure she would have gone through with shagging Fred. She would have kissed him though, she was pretty sure of that.

"I think," Audrey started, and sat up, "if I had met him first, he would have been exactly the type of good-time-bloke I would have liked."

Percy was silent and still, not looking at her.

"I don't regret that part of my life—I mean I regret that an awful lot of it was bad sex, but I don't regret sleeping around. It's what I wanted at that point, and that's exactly what Fred was offering." Audrey stared at her hands in her lap. "But I didn't meet him first, I met you."

She was stuffing this up. She had no idea what she was trying to tell him, but it felt as close to the truth as she could get.

"And what does that mean?" Percy asked in a voice rough with emotion.

"You're not a good-time-bloke, Percy."

He snorted.

"You're… I don't know. You-you make me feel things that scare me and-and I'm afraid you're going to take it all away."

"And Fred? He was what to you? A way to hurt me?"

Audrey sighed. "I think so. I guess." She sniffed. "I think he was a way of protecting myself, but in the end, I don't think I could have gone through with it."

"No?" Percy laughed derisively.

"I spent the entire time trying to talk myself into the idea that I was doing nothing wrong. And-and Fred annoyed me."

"Dammit, Audrey."

"And I care about you." Her voice cracked. "So much really."

What more could she say? Their relationship of less than a day was crumbling, and if a barrel full of words could have saved it, then Audrey would have kept talking. She would have found a hundred ways of saying that Fred meant nothing, and Percy meant so much, but what was done was done. Words weren't going to change what she did, nor would they change Percy's mind. She deserved to be dumped as soon as her relationship began.

oOo

For a moment, Percy saw all of his hopes and dreams dashed, again. A bitter taste filled his mouth, one that was all too familiar. It had been there the night he rowed with Dad, and again a few days later, with Penelope. Blood boiled in Percy's brain, demanding that he storm out and not look back.

Flinging back the covers, Percy got out of bed. He flicked his glasses on and pulled on his pants. Anger like this required the bare minimum of clothing, he thought. Well, she'd gone and done it, hadn't she? Audrey had found the one betrayal that he couldn't ignore. Bloody hell, his own brother!

Rounding on the bed, it was on the tip of Percy's tongue to scream at her to leave, but the words stuck. In the middle of the bed, with the sheet tucked around her, Audrey sat cross-legged. Her hands were clutched in her lap, her hair covering her face. She looked small, and utterly defenseless. All this time, Percy assumed that the bitter taste in his mouth was betrayal. He was wrong. Shoulders slumping, Percy realized that what he felt was hurt. It cut so deeply he might bleed to death, unless he could plaster the wound with anger.

"Is Oliver the only reason you're telling me this?" Percy asked, his voice raw. "Or-or Fred. I mean, presumably I'll be introducing you to him as my girlfriend someday."

"No." She shook her head, wiping her nose with her hand. "I've known for awhile that I had to come clean, but I couldn't let you believe in this farce of a relationship any longer. I-I do want to be fair to you."

For a moment, Percy just concentrated on breathing. In and out. In and out. He closed his eyes. All of Percy's past mistakes seemed to line themselves up for review. With sudden clarity, Percy realized that he was a flight risk. Somebody hurt him, and he left. Wasn't that the very thing Audrey was afraid of? If he sent Audrey away, there would be no going back. She would never trust him with her heart.

Was that what he still wanted? Percy opened his eyes. In the dark, he could only make out her outline on the bed. She made him happy in a way he never knew was possible, but he reckoned that anybody who could do that also had the power to hurt him in ways he never imagined, too. In fact, he suspected that Audrey might have a special talent for it.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Percy wrestled with the need to protect himself, and the desire he still held for this infuriating woman. It wasn't mere physical desire. He wanted her wit and her laughter in his life. He was afraid that his existence would feel hollow otherwise. More than that, he wanted to protect Audrey, to make her happy. Those were the noble reasons he gave himself for stripping away all her protective layers, weren't they? Yet, he never stopped to think how it would feel for Audrey to be that vulnerable.

Percy sat on the edge of the bed. "You called our relationship a "farce." Does it have to be?"

Audrey looked up, pushing her hair behind her ear. "What?"

"Our relationship?" Percy turned to face her. "Do you want it to end?"

Audrey shook her head. "No, I-I don't want us to end."

"I don't either, fool that I am."

"So…you aren't angry with me?"

Percy snorted. "Oh, I'm angry. I mean, Fred? Honestly, Audrey!" Then he shrugged, a small smirk creeping onto his face. "Still, I got the girl, right?"

There was a stubborn silence from Audrey.

"What?" Percy needled. "No sassy rejoinder?"

"Well!" Audrey huffed, and crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm the guilty party. I reckon that means I can let your sexist remark slide. This time."

"It's the least you can do."

"So long as we both understand that I am not some prize to be won over a game of cards, then I can let it go."

"Obviously." Percy laughed a little, then took one of her hands. "Seriously, do you want to-to be my girlfriend?"

"I do," she whispered. Audrey brushed a tear away with her free hand.

"The way I see it," he started, adjusting his glasses. "I have to trust that you won't try to sabotage us, and you have to trust that I will always be here to…to take care of you."

"I can try." She squeezed his hand hard, facing him in the dark.

Percy tucked her hair behind her ear, but that wasn't enough. Crawling onto the bed, he nudged Audrey back onto the mattress so that he was sprawled over her. She wrapped her arms around him, peppering his chest and neck with kisses. Anger had never served him well. In fact, it had only resulted in his own loneliness. He didn't want to be lonely any more.

Burying his face in the crook of her neck, Percy murmured against her skin, "Then let's start with a clean slate, shall we?"

Chapter 34

"That smells wonderful."

Bill wrapped his arms around Fleur's aproned waist from behind, nuzzling that soft, vulnerable part of her neck. After such a late night they had taken their time getting around that morning, Ron wasn't even up yet. Besides, it wasn't like this was a normal Christmas. There were no gifts to unwrap or plans to see family. It was just the three of them and a chicken. Still, better than most of the Christmases Bill had spent in Egypt.

"I will have dinner ready in an hour," Fleur said. "Why don't you wake Ronald?"

Bill kissed her neck. "If you insist."

A few kisses later, Bill made his way upstairs and knocked on the guest room door. "Rise and shine, beautiful!"

After a few moments with no answer, Bill pounded on the door. "Oi!"

Nothing.

Cold prickles showered Bill's body. He pounded again but still got no response. Leaning his head against the door, Bill closed his eyes.

"Ron! Open up or I'm coming in."

But Bill already knew his brother wasn't on the other side of the door.

"I had to dump an ewer of water on his head to wake him yesterday," Fleur called up the stairs helpfully.

Sparing his wife a glance, Bill forced a smile. If he remained in the hall, then Ron would be safely in his room. Bill could leave it that way, he could respect his brother's privacy, Ron's right to sleep, and go back downstairs none the wiser. Bill wouldn't have to be filled with worry. He wouldn't have to wonder where his brother was. He wouldn't have to curse the damn fool for running off when Bill specifically asked him to wait. Just a few days, that was all he asked for.

Damn Ron.

Pushing open the door, Bill found the room in shadows, the curtains still pulled against the watery winter sun. The counterpane was thrown up hastily, but that was how Ron made his bed every morning. Did that mean it was never slept in? His knapsack was gone. No wand, no Deluminator, not a single item left behind. The room was empty, just as Bill knew it would be. Empty, but for a tented scrap of parchment on the small desk in the corner.

In two long strides, Bill snatched up the parchment and flicked it open to read his brother's untidy scrawl:

"Dear Bill and Fleur,

I found them! I can't explain how. I have to go

before I lose them again. Thanks for everything.

Happy Christmas, Ron

PS—Hope to see you next year."

Bill crumpled the note. How had Ron found Harry and Hermione? Just last night he admitted to having no idea where they were, but now he'd found them and just run off. Damn, impetuous fool. Bill wasn't surprised. He shouldn't even be angry, and yet rage burned in his chest. Why was he angry?

Before he did something stupid, Bill forced himself to sit on the edge of the bed.

"He is gone?" Fleur asked quietly, appearing in the door.

Bill remained silent, his hands fisted in hip lap.

She knelt on the floor between Bill's legs, prizing the note from his fist. "He has found Harry and Hermione? Zat is wonderful."

"Yes, he found them," Bill snapped mockingly.

Rubbing his thigh, she added, "I zink it must have been some magic that led him to them, n'est-ce pas?"

"What kind of magic? Could he have been sure that it wasn't a trick?"

"Ron is very clever. He knows what Dark magic feels like."

Bill knew that Fleur was correct. He didn't care. The fact remained that Ron was more than prone to acts of idiocy. He was desperate to find Harry and Hermione. Would Ron have taken the time to evaluate whatever magic presented itself? If that was indeed how it happened. Maybe Ron was just following some wild hunch. Bill had no way of knowing. How could he ensure that his brother was safe? He couldn't. He'd just have to wait until his bloody death was announced on Potterwatch.

Standing abruptly, Bill stepped around Fleur and made for the door. "I'm going for a walk."

"I will turn off zee stove and go wiz you," Fleur said, scurrying after him down the stairs.

"I want to be alone. I'll be back in time for dinner." Bill reached the base of the stairs and yanked his cloak off the hook by the door.

"You always want to be alone!" Fleur yelled.

Shocked, Bill wheeled around to stare wide-eyed at Fleur. Her mouth was flat, her nostrils flared, there was something slightly avian about her eyebrows. She was angry, at Bill. Why? He didn't know, but he felt his own temper simmering over.

"Fleur—"

"No."

"Excuse me?" Bill took a step backward, and yet he felt himself leaning in for a good row.

"Do not walk out of zat door without me. Not again. Not anymore. I am your wife, you cannot shut me out."

"I'm not—"

"You are," she accused.

Bill crossed his arms, anger choking him. "I won't be smothered."

"I do not wish to smother you—I am not your mother!"

"Don't bring Mum into this."

"I want you to talk to me. S'il te plaît. S'il te plaît. Talk to me, Bill."

Hands hanging uselessly at his side, Bill stared up at his wife as if he could not quite figure out who the hell she was. Anger swirled inside his innards, mating with confusion, only to be socked by guilt. He had seen Fleur angry, or even unsure of herself plenty of times. Seeing her beg was something altogether different. Fleur was proud, she did not lower herself, not even for him. Yet there she was, begging him to stay and talk to her. Bill didn't feel humbled so much as sick to his stomach.

"I talk to you," Bill said hollowly. He shielded his eyes, his body half turned away from Fleur.

"You do not—not since Greyback." Tears slipped down her face.

"I need space."

"And I need zee man I love, the one who used to tell me what was in his heart."

Bill glanced at Fleur. Had it gotten so bad as that? Had he really pulled away from her as she charged? He didn't want to think so, but he was just kidding himself. The attack by Greyback had changed him more than just physically. It started before Greyback, though, hadn't it? It started last April when he got two of his best friends murdered. He felt a part of himself chipped away every time he watched somebody he loved go into danger, and there was nothing he could do about it. Maybe there were so many chips now that the man Fleur loved no longer existed.

"I think you've made a mistake," Bill said, and yanked open the door.

"What does zat mean?" Fleur screeched.

Bill marched out of the house and onto the beach with Fleur's screams for him to return echoing in his ears.

oOo

"Do not dare!" Fleur rushed down the steps and out the front door after Bill. "Come back here. What does zat mean?"

Black cloak whipping in the sea winds, a lone figure trudged down the beach and away from Shell Cottage. He wore no hat, the wind tugging violently at his long ponytail. Nothing deterred Bill from his retreat. Least of all Fleur's angry screams. Her words skipped from English to French, and back again, until her voice was hoarse and Bill could not be seen on the horizon.

She stood there a moment, looking at the blank stretch of beach. Bill walked out, even after she begged him not to. Smashing the folds of her skirt in her hands, Fleur whirled around and marched back into the Cottage. How dare he leave her!

Grabbing a set of potholders, Fleur yanked the half cooked chicken out of the oven. He said she had made a mistake. Non! It was not she who had made the mistake. It was not she who turned into a sulking teenager every time something happened that she did not like. Walking back onto the front porch, Fleur dumped the chicken onto the ground, scalding juices spraying everywhere, the crockery busting against the floorboards with a satisfying bang.

She went back to the kitchen, yanking his stupid, tasteless, English potatoes off the cook top. It was Bill who was quite mistaken if he thought he could walk out every time he had a problem. Fleur might be a young wife, but she knew what made a good marriage. She would not let him get away with shutting her out. She would not let him ruin what they had. She hurled the pan onto the porch. Potatoes flew in all directions, bouncing down the steps to lie pathetically on the walk.

When he returned—and, ooh, she knew he would return—Fleur would tell him that he was an arsehole. She would not allow him to just walk out anymore. He had to talk to her. He had to tell her what he was thinking and feeling. Even if she had to tie him to a chair, he was going to talk to her! She would not stand for it, not one moment longer. The peas, still in the glass dish waiting to be creamed, bounced across the porch like tiny balls, their dish shattering into a hundred shards.

The cream, the mushrooms, the blasted sausages wrapped in bacon, even the lovely cherry tart she had made after lovingly preserving cherries just for this occasion. They all exploded against the floorboards of her porch. This was the Christmas dinner she made for her new husband, and he could damn well eat it off the ground. Walk out on her Christmas Day? How dare he!

Fleur stood amongst the ruins with a heaving chest, the cold winter air lashing at her body. How dare he? Tears pricked at her eyes, hot and stinging. How dare he?

Had she made a mistake? The anger broke in her chest, dissolving into sorrow in the pit of her stomach. She didn't know how to make Bill talk to her. It was simple to look after his scarred and battered body, to spread salves and potions over it, to wrap it in bandages. How could she mend his soul if he would not let her in?

The first tears were quiet, she hardly even noticed as they rolled down her cheeks and over her jaw. She pictured how lonely Bill looked as he walked away. The image matched the hollow ache in her chest. The next tears were louder. Burying her face in her hands, Fleur sunk down amongst the mess and sobbed. Her heart felt like it was breaking.

oOo

Christmas evening found Percy sitting at his dinner table with a turkey sandwich, a bottle of Butterbeer, and a stack of parchments. Yet, he didn't feel nearly as lonely as he had on previous Christmases. He'd seen Audrey off mid-morning, after fixing a nice Christmas breakfast of eggs and bacon. He might have tried for something fancier if he'd expected to have her company, or that she would be his girlfriend.

Sitting back with his bottle, a smirk on his face, Percy couldn't help but feel quite pleased with himself. He knew that pride was his greatest flaw. He was also well aware that his problems with Audrey were far from resolved. None of it mattered. Audrey was his girlfriend, and that was a huge hurdle passed.

A knock at the door brought Percy out of his reverie. Wand out, Percy moved cautiously to the door, peering through the peephole to spy Oliver. He wasn't particularly surprised to see his friend. Oliver hadn't been around much in the last two weeks with two matches to play and extra training before the French tour, but this was the first Christmas since his brothers died, and Percy didn't suppose that it was an easy one for the Woods.

"What was the book I gave you when we first met?" Percy called through the door.

"Peter Pan," came the answer.

Percy swung the door open and smiled at his friend. "And you wanted to find pixie dust to see if it would actually make us fly."

"And we got so muddy that your mum had to hose us off in the garden."

Oliver walked in, went straight to the kitchen, and reemerged with a Butterbeer of his own.

"Do you want a sandwich?" Percy asked, sitting at the table.

"No." Oliver shook his head and took his own chair. "There was plenty to eat at home if anybody had the stomach for it."

"That bad?"

Oliver sighed, picking at the label on the bottle. "I didn't tell you, but my dad showed up at my flat last week in a panic, or at least as close to a panic as my dad gets. It was the day before Alex was due home from Hogwarts…. You know, when we—when Dougal, Fergus, and me were in school, we'd get home for Christmas hols and there would be a big tree in the sitting room with boxes full of ornaments waiting for us, and Mum would make up a big meal of all of our favorites."

"Yeah, it was bit like that at the Burrow, too. Along with birthday cakes for Bill and Charlie."

"Anyway," Oliver said, he took a swig of his Butterbeer, obviously striving for a neutral voice. "Anyway, I think my parents might have forgot Alex was due home. Dad showed up, saying he'd dragged in a tree but couldn't find the damned ornaments. I called in sick for training and spent the day searching the damn attic with him. We couldn't even Summon them because there were so many boxes that the whole thing would have toppled over."

Percy pushed his glasses up. "I don't remember your attic being messy. We used to play hide and seek up there."

"All of the things from Dougal and Fergus' flats…." Oliver shrugged. "Well, we only found one box of ornaments."

"Where was your mum?"

"Somewhere in the house."

"Did you go with your dad to fetch Alex from King's Cross?"

"Aye."

Percy's hand tightened around his bottle, the knuckles turning white. "And-and how was it?"

Oliver heaved a sigh. "Not as bad as September 1, but tense. All the parents were anxious, and the students…." Oliver shook his head. "It was odd, Perce. The kids looked relieved to be off the train, but almost like they didn't want to leave…."

"Leave what?"

"One another? The school? I'm not sure exactly." Oliver shook his head.

"Did you see Ginny? How did she look?"

"Like a fighter."

Percy groaned.

"Her and Longbottom and that mad girl with the blonde hair…. What's her name?"

"Luna Lovegood."

"Aye, that's it. The three of them had their heads together until pulled away by their parents. Looked for all the world like they were conspiring."

Percy groaned again. "I think all of my siblings are determined to get themselves killed."

"You're one to talk."

Percy shrugged. "So, how was Christmas?"

"Mum started to come around once Alex and I were both home, but there was hardly any food in the house. I ended up going around to the shop while Dad made a pot of spaghetti, and that was Alex's welcome home feast." Oliver sneered and took another swig. "Alex wanted nothing to do with the damn tree, so that bloody box just sat there. Finally, yesterday Auntie Jane turned up to start cooking the Christmas turkey."

"One of your Macmillan aunts?" Percy asked.

"Aye, Mum's spinster sister." A small smile tugged at the corner of Oliver's mouth. "Auntie Jane is a pretty decent Chaser, but she can't cook worth shite. Still, she got my mum into the spirit a bit. Then Uncle Fraser and Auntie Beth showed up with Christine and Ernie." He frowned. "Alex went to pieces the moment he got Ernie alone. Then the two of them spent half the day huddled in a corner, whispering, and Alex crying all over our cousin. Shite."

Oliver covered his eyes with his hand. "Shite," he repeated. "Shite, shite. I tried to talk Alex around, but he was keeping mum about it. I know he wasn't carrying on about Dougal and Ferg, he admitted that much. I cornered Ernie, but he wouldn't tell me a damn thing. I even threatened to beat the shite out of him—"

"Oliver," Percy admonished.

"What? What was I supposed to do? I was at wit's end trying to figure out what's going on with Alex, and it's damned obvious that Ernie knows. Regardless, he stared me down. Ernie's never stood up to me."

"Couldn't be because you're five years older and two stones heavier?" Percy replied with a roll of his eyes. He was sure that Oliver had threatened his little cousin before, but if he ever had any intention of following through on those threats, Percy would be very surprised.

Oliver muttered something about "the Macmillan cousins," then pinned Percy with a pointed look. "What's happening up at that castle?"

"The-the castle…" Percy stammered. "I-I don't—"

"Don't give that line of bull," Oliver challenged. He sat forward in his chair, his dark eyes locking Percy down.

"Believe me, Oliver, there is nothing the Ministry wants to keep quieter than the conditions up at Hogwarts."

"But you know something, you always do."

Percy sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "There are rumors."

"Well?"

"Oliver, you have to put Alex back on that train in January no matter what, are you sure you want to know what they are saying?"

His friend stood so abruptly that the chair crashed to the floor behind him. Swiping one hand through his hair, Oliver prowled around the sitting room. The rage, the barely contained grief, could be seen in every muscle of Oliver's body, but Percy averted his eyes. The emotion was overwhelming, and what room did either of them have for that kind of depth of feeling in their lives. Raging against the world wasn't going to change anything; it wouldn't even make them feel better.

"I leave for France in two days," Oliver said, still pacing. "I could take him with me, I could leave him there."

"And what happens to your parents when Alex doesn't show up at Hogwarts for next term?" Percy asked calmly.

"I'll take them, too, dammit."

"And what happens if the Ministry decides to look for the pureblood family that up and disappeared? Do they breathe down the necks of Puddlemere for answers?"

"They aren't going to bully a Quidditch team, the whole bloody country would be up in arms."

"Do they track the Woods to the Continent? Do you lead them to the Delacours doorstep? To Shell Cottage? Think, Oliver!" Percy looked at his friend now. "Each box is stacked carefully atop the other."

Oliver dragged his arm across his eyes, then sank into the sofa. "Maybe I shouldn't go. Alex needs me, Mum and Dad…."

Percy got up and went to sit by his friend. "Go," he said softly. "See Katie, see Catriona and your godson. You'll be stronger for it."

"I promised to buy Campbell a broomstick for his first birthday," Oliver said, his head falling back onto the cushions of the sofa. "Do you think he'll know me?"

"No," Percy replied honestly. "Ginny was just a year old when Bill first went to Hogwarts, she never really remembered him when he got home. But there's time for all of that. The sacrifices your family is making will ensure that."

The two of them sat in silence. Wartime Christmas was never going to be an easy one. Percy wondered how his family was muddling through at the Burrow. Ron was missing, Charlie was in Romania, and of course Percy had been long absent. Would Bill and Fleur end their self-imposed exile and join the family for Christmas? How did Ginny feel about being away from Hogwarts? Percy thought of what he had told Audrey the night before, his dream for next Christmas, and clung to the hope that things would be better a year from now.

A knock at the door interrupted the quiet. Oliver looked at Percy with furrowed brows.

"Are you expecting Audrey?"

"No," Percy replied slowly. "But I wouldn't be surprised…."

He got up, pulling his wand, and saw Oliver follow suit. A knot of apprehension formed in Percy's stomach. He told himself it was just Audrey, that he was being ridiculous. Carefully, he peered through the peephole once more.

"Bloody hell," Percy hissed. "What is he doing here?"

With surprising stealth for a big man, Oliver pressed his back against the wall on one side of the door, wand held high. "Who is it?" he whispered.

"Liam Williamson."

Chapter 35

Fleur heard the backdoor open. It had been one hour, Bill was true to his word and had returned in time for dinner. In the foyer, sitting on the steps where he left her, Fleur waited. She would not search him out. She would not make amends. She would not pretend that nothing happened. This was Christmas, their first as man and wife, and the second miserable holiday she had spent on this blasted island he called home. No, Bill must come to her.

"Hey."

The word was quiet. He leaned against the doorframe between the kitchen and the foyer, hands in the pockets of his jeans, cloak still around his shoulders. He was looking at her, but the expression in his eyes was as unassuming and unknowable as his greeting. Fleur glanced at him and lifted her chin.

"I thought maybe you would throw something at my head," he said.

"I have thrown zings, yes," Fleur replied, her voice husky.

Bill turned so his back was against the frame, his chin sinking onto his chest. "I reckon I'm glad I wasn't around for that, though I probably deserve to have something thrown at my head."

"Oui, we agree."

Silence settled into the gulf between them. The urge to scream at him boiled in Fleur's chest, if only to fill the void, if only to get a reaction from him. She had stubbornly told herself that Bill must make the first move. It must be him who opened the dialogue this time. After all, was he not the one who had stopped talking to her? Now that he was there it would take only a few steps to close this space between them, and then she could touch him. Fleur felt very childish. All these months Bill's words and emotions had been locked up inside of him, and of course he could not speak first. It must be her.

She remained on her step, however, trying to find the right words.

"Fleur," Bill said, and cleared his throat. "I'm sorry I walked out that way. I needed some time to myself—"

"You have needed a lot of zat lately."

He nodded his head. "Yeah, maybe I have."

"I zink maybe I could accept zat if you would talk to me when you returned. You used to talk to me. You told me zings even when you had to speak in-in—what is it—code."

Bill remained quiet, staring at his shoes.

"I know what Greyback did to you—"

"It wasn't Greyback."

Fleur stared at him for a moment, her breath caught in her chest.

"Well, it was Greyback, of course, but it began before that." Bill looked at her. "In April."

Folding her hands in her lap, Fleur leaned her head against the balustrade, watching Bill through the slats. "Oh, Bill…."

"You can tell me that there was nothing I could do to save Dougal and Fergus, that it wasn't my fault, that they were keen to fight, it doesn't matter. I watched two of my best mates be killed, and I was powerless to stop it. None of my brilliance or skill mattered."

Tears slipped down Fleur's face to drip onto her hands. Images of her sister being pulled out of the Black Lake by Ron and Harry played in her mind. She knew just a fraction of what Bill was feeling, and it was awful. That feeling of utter ineptitude had left her bobbing about without direction, wondering if she would shatter under the slightest pressure.

"The reason I challenged Greyback that night," Bill continued. "He was going after Ginny."

Fleur gasped.

"There was no choice in the matter, I just reacted, and I saved her—unlike Dougal and Fergus—but look what that monster did to me." He turned to face Fleur, arms held out. "He's a thug with no great magical skill, just…brute strength and vitriol, but it was enough to beat me. I came back to England ready to fight You-Know-Who, to keep him from hurting my family more than he already had, yet every time I turn around somebody I love is in harm's way, and there is nothing I can do to protect them. I am powerless."

Fleur snuffled, wiping at the tears that were quickly escaping. "Mon Bill, it is war."

He shook his head, sticking his hands back into his pockets and leaning against the doorframe again.

"Yes," Fleur insisted, sitting up straighter. "Zere is a war, and no one is safe. You cannot…you cannot…." There was so much she wanted to say to him, but all of the thoughts were stuck inside her head. The words came to her in French—beautiful and important—but she could not translate them so that her Englishman would understand.

"I know, Fleur," Bill said lowly and plainly. "I know it's war, and I know what that means."

No words, French or English, came to Fleur now. She stared at him, blinking rapidly, but his gaze was steady. Twilight was gathering outside of Shell Cottage, casting the foyer into shadow, but she could still make out the sadness in his eyes. Her mind whirled, trying to understand what he meant, how she was to respond.

Bill pushed away from the threshold and made the slow walk to the staircase, sitting on the step below her. Despite the ache in her chest and the tears on her face, Fleur smiled. She slid down to sit beside him, feeling more secure to have his solid thigh pressed against hers, to have him look at her from the corner of his eye.

"I do not understand what you are going through," Fleur confessed. "And I want to. I want to help you. I want to know what is inside your heart, mon Bill."

Sighing, Bill's shoulders sagged. "I hardly know, Fleur."

She took his hand, making him look at her, and he sighed again.

"Remember the night Ron first showed up?" Bill said, and looked away. "I was so relieved to see him, and I just went…to pieces. I was useless to him, to you. It wasn't a new feeling. My friends died, and I was not thirty feet away. Greyback bested me, and I lie senseless while my baby brother and sister fought on. Our wedding turned into a battlefield, and I could do nothing while Death Eaters tortured the twins, Dad, our friends…."

"You saved me," Fleur said softly. "You and Charlie made sure zat Ginny got away. Zat is what your father would have wanted."

The lines around his mouth tightened. "Death Eaters should have never been there in the first place."

"But zey were, and we cannot change zat."

"There is so much I can't change. I can't stop you and Percy from risking your lives in this mad business with the Muggle-borns. I can't keep Ginny safe from Death Eaters in her bloody school, or Ron…." Bill took a deep breath. "I feel out of control, and then there is my body—"

They sat so close that Bill could only escape by inches, and yet that was what he did. Jerking to the side, his face turned away, Bill stopped speaking. Gently, Fleur touched his cheek, skimming her fingers over the scars.

"Bill?"

He shook his head. "Sometimes…I feel like I don't know who I am."

"During zee moon?"

"No. When I fell apart over Ron, that wasn't me. I don't panic, I know what to do."

Fleur looked at him for a long time. "Zat is how I felt," she said softly, "when I failed Gabrielle in zee tournament."

"You were just a kid."

"And you are a man who has suffered great trauma."

Picking up her skirts, Fleur scooted around until she was kneeling between Bill's legs and gathering him into her arms. Relief flooded through her when he returned her embrace, but she did not slacken her hold. "You are allowed to be weak, it does not make you less of a man."

Bill buried his face in her neck, and Fleur felt the dampness of his tears against her skin.

"You are allowed to let me be zee strong one sometimes, but I can only be zat if you let me help you."

"I didn't know." He leaned back, his eyes red rimmed and his face wet. "I didn't realize how I had pulled away from you…."

Hands clutched over her heart, tears fell down Fleur's face. The pain that she felt for her husband was physical. "You said I made a mistake."

"It was me. I made the mistake. I shouldn't have—"

"Shh." Fleur pressed her finger against his mouth. "Zis hurt me, what you said, because I was afraid zat you were right. Did we marry too soon? I have asked myself zis very question."

A tear gathered in Bill's eye, trembling in the corner, then made its lonely way down his scarred face. Fleur leaned in and placed her lips against his damp skin. She felt the ridges of half-healed flesh, tasted the salt of his tears against her mouth.

"Zere was no mistake," she whispered. "I would marry you again, a million times, because I love you."

"You aren't afraid that makes you a fool?" Bill asked, his eyes downcast.

"I am beautiful, and I am haughty, and I am even young, but I am no fool, Bill Weasley, and it is zat reason zat you married me."

"I've felt so lost."

He made his words into a simple admission, and yet they were so full of loneliness. If she had ever given it thought, Fleur would have said that a heart breaking felt like a dull ache. She was wrong. A stabbing pain pierced her chest, sucking away her breath. Bill's confession was somehow worse than seeing him near death in the hospital wing of Hogwarts. No one had ever told her she could hurt for another person the way she hurt for her Bill.

Taking a deep breath, Fleur covered Bill's hands with hers. "Let me help you find the way."

He nodded.

"Oh, Bill!" Fleur flung her arms around him, holding him close. The bulk of his cloak and jumper was between them, and yet Fleur felt closer to Bill in that moment than she had in months. Her shoulders sagged, her neck felt tired, as if a great weight had just been lifted. It was then Fleur realized just how worried for Bill, for their marriage, that she had actually been. Leaning into his body, she took comfort from him just as she offered it.

"Perhaps," Fleur started, leaning back to look at Bill's face. "Christmas is not lost after all. Perhaps this is a new beginning for us."

Bill's mouth curled into a small smile, his eyes weary but hopeful. "Our Christmas gift."

"Zat would be nice, because I have ruined Christmas dinner."

"I'm sure it's fine. You're a good cook, almost as good as Mum—oof!"

Fleur balled her fists at her sides. "Zis is how you want to start our new beginning, Bill Weasley? By comparing my cooking to your mother's?"

"If it means seeing that look on you face." He kissed her nose.

"Hmph. Well, I did not mean zat I overcooked zee dinner. I meant zat it is on zee porch if you care to eat it."

Bill chuckled. "What did you do?"

"I told you. I threw zings." Fleur poked her nose into the air.

Pulling her near, kissing her lips, Bill rested his forehead against hers. "I love you, and I'm sorry. I never want to do anything to lose you, because I never want to miss one of your temper tantrums."

"It is good zat I love you so much because you are an unbearable…."

"'Sod' is the word you are looking for."

"You English are very creative wiz your insults."

Bill chuckled. "Let's get off this step—my arse is falling asleep."

They helped each other stand. Then, still on the stairs where they could so easily go down to the kitchen or up the bedroom, Bill wrapped his arms around Fleur. The kiss was soft at first, a kind of apology and acceptance. It quickly grew insistent, his tongue, her mouth, clutching hands. Pressed against the wall, his body into hers, and a new fire starting between Fleur's legs.

"Play a game of pretend with me for a moment," Bill said huskily, his mouth still so near hers.

"D'accord." Her voice was breathy.

"Pretend there is no war, that we are a newlywed couple like any other. If we had infinite numbers of years ahead of us without worry, what kind of plans would we make?"

"Bill, mon amour, zis is very dangerous."

"Indulge me. For Christmas."

Fleur ran her fingers through his hair. "For our first anniversary, you would take me to Egypt and show me zee pyramids."

"Hm, there are some hidden chambers inside those pyramids that only a curse breaker would know about."

"Zen it is good zat I will have such an experienced guide."

His fingers crept under her blouse, skimming up her ribcage. "In more ways than one."

"Oui, and zat is how I would become pregnant."

His fingers ghosted over her belly. "You would be beautiful."

"Mais oui."

"How many?"

"Children? At least seven. Maybe eight, so zat I can show your mother."

Bill's hand stilled, and he pulled back to look at her. "Three will do."

"Three is just right," Fleur replied with a giggle, drawing him in for a kiss.

"And they will all be ginger."

"Non! Well, maybe one. A little boy with red hair and blue eyes and a million freckles. We will call him Guilliam and all zee girls will love him."

"And his sisters will think he's a massive pain in the arse."

"Of course, Cecile and Antoinette will be perfect ladies."

"They all have French names?"

"Of course."

Bill kissed her neck. "Just checking."

His hand was on her back, the palm warm against her bare skin, the other still on her waist. Fleur kissed him, deeply. It was a beautiful fantasy, but painful. As the days grew shorter and darker, it was harder to envision ever reaching that future. Better to live in the now, to enjoy the moments she and Bill could steal from the jaws of war. Like this one. They would go upstairs, she decided, to the bedroom.

Tugging on Bill's cloak, Fleur took one step up. "Come, mon Bill."

oOo

The world stopped spinning, and Percy found himself on a wooden quay staring out at the black and hostile waters of the Irish Sea. The night air had icicles hanging from its breath, invading Percy's woolen coat and freezing him to his core. Some darkened village staggered out of the sea a few yards from where he stood. Though "village" was glorifying the clutch of cottages and general store a bit. The only thing of significance about this stretch of land along the coast was the small surgery—the only one within miles equipped to deliver babies. Muggle babies, that is. Although, if Williamson's information was correct, it would be delivering one magical baby in the very near future.

Glancing at Oliver, who seemed impervious to the cold, Percy said a silent prayer that both he and his friend would come out of this scrape alive. He supposed he included Williamson in that prayer as well, but begrudgingly. The young Auror was proving to be more reckless than Percy would prefer, especially as the inside man in the DMLE.

Little more than an hour before, Percy had discovered Williamson on his doorstep. Percy didn't like that Williamson knew where he lived, but reasoned the address was in his work file and therefore easily accessible. Still, Percy had required three security questions before he'd let the other man into his flat.

Williamson had marched in, dressed completely in black, glanced at Oliver with a pleased expression, and announced that he need their help.

"I've found the pregnant Muggle-born," Williamson announced without preamble.

"What's this?" Oliver asked.

Percy glanced at his friend. "Williamson claims that the Snatchers are tracking down a pregnant woman. He presumes with a great deal of arrogance that we're going to help him extract her despite the fact that the Order of Mercy is currently out of commission."

Oliver looked from Percy to Williamson. "How do you know about this?"

"The woman's name is Mary Lathrop. Both she and her husband are Muggle-borns," Williamson explained, eyeing Percy shrewdly. "They've been eluding the Snatchers for nearly three months now. Assuming that the couple are traveling together, the Snatchers are quite keen to capture them figuring that they can collect two rewards for the price of one, and maybe a third for the baby. It's been a source of…amusement for the Snatchers the last few weeks. They've turned capturing them into something of a sport."

Percy's stomach turned sour. "How pregnant is this woman?"

"According to her mid-wife, Mary Lathrop should be due any day now."

"How could a woman that pregnant dodge the Snatchers for this long?" Oliver asked.

Williamson shook his head. "Luck, I reckon. I've been putting the trail together through Muggle newspapers and bits of rumor. The woman was Mary Wells before she married—and a Wells family mysteriously died in Cotswald back in November. Before that, the Lathrop family home in Northumberland burned to the ground with everybody."

"Shite," Oliver breathed, and Percy quite concurred.

Swallowing hard, Percy asked, "And you think you've found her? How?"

"Well, that baby is due any day, isn't it?" Williamson responded. "They can't very well contact the midwife or go to St. Mungo's, those places will be watched. So, I've started searching through Muggle hospitals and clinics—the smaller the better."

Percy had to admit there was a logic to Williamson's reasoning, and that he seemed to be a whip smart Auror, but none of that was the reason he was standing on a pier frozen to his bones. He was still wary of Williamson, but Percy couldn't take the risk that this Mary Lathrop and her unborn child were really out there needing his help. He couldn't let her down.

"They should be holed up in a shack on the edge of town," Williamson said in a hushed voice, pointing at a stand of trees.

Both Percy and Oliver looked in the direction that the other man indicated. Oliver had been much more keen to follow Williamson than Percy. Of course, Oliver was the knight errant type to Percy's petty bureaucrat, so maybe that wasn't so surprising. Still, Percy wished he could place his trust in Williamson as easily as Oliver did.

A scream rent the air.

The three men on the quay froze, wands out, waiting.

A flash in the night—green light.

Another scream.

"Fuck," Williamson muttered. "We're too late."

The Auror rushed forward, Oliver only steps behind—both of them professional risk takers. Percy waited, watching as a lamp was lit in a Muggle window. Knowing that he had only precious seconds, Percy cast shields on the houses, then a Muggle repelling charms at the stand of trees. He said another prayer, this one that no innocent bystander be harmed.

On legs that felt more like noodles, Percy ran in the direction Oliver and Williamson had disappeared. More jets of light zipped through the darkness—a sickening rainbow of color. There was shouting, grunting, cursing, then a loud, piercing wail. A chill even greater than the sea breeze seeped into all of Percy's pores.

High, keening and encompassing, it was the sound of sudden and forceful grief. Percy stumbled at the reverberation of it. Tripping forward, he saw two men with wands. Percy stunned them both, watching them crash face first into the dirt. He forced himself into the direction of the wailing.

"Percy!"

Oliver stood tall over huddled bodies, deflecting curses and hexes. Percy rushed to his friend, realizing that the screaming was coming from behind Oliver.

"He's dead!" Oliver shouted.

Percy snapped his wand at Oliver, and a shimmering shield incased his friend. Using the extra protection, Oliver disarmed his assailants. Their wands flying through the air to clatter at Oliver's feet.

"Hurry!" Oliver called. "He's dead, we've got to do something."

The first time Oliver said it, the words refused to lodge in Percy's brain. This time, Percy latched onto Oliver's sentence but still couldn't comprehend. Dead? Who was dead? And then he saw the woman kneeling on the ground, clutching a body to her pregnant belly.

Too late. Too late.

The words played through Percy's mind on a loop, even as Oliver put a Full Body Bind on two Snatchers that rushed their way. Not sure how he covered the ten feet that separated them, Percy knelt beside the woman and cast another shield charm.

The woman—Mary, her name was Mary.

Mary's white face was like a moon in the blackness of the night. Her wails had ended, and now she just sobbed as her husband lie limply in her arms. Percy dug a handkerchief from his pocket, but crushed it in his hand. Fragments of memory surfaced in Percy's mind. He saw his mother mourning for her two brothers. Percy had been only five. What he remembered of Uncles Gideon and Fabian was vapor thin, but the sounds of his mother's grief were as solid as the ground he knelt on.

"Ma'am," Percy said shakily. He tried to clear his throat. "M-Mary, we're here to help you."

She didn't even look up.

"Good work, Wood."

Percy looked up to see Williamson patting Oliver on the back. The night had fallen silent except for Mary's soft cries. The battle was as short as it had been furious. Now, both Oliver and the Auror stood staring at the grieving woman on the ground. Williamson pushed his hair back from his face, turning away for a moment.

So, the arrogant bastard was moved by the scene before him more than he cared to admit, was he? A fury whirled in Percy's chest, impotent and useless. Williamson had walked them into a Snatcher ambush. For all of Williamson's sleuthing, he'd been too damned late and maybe just too damned dumb, and a man had paid for it with his life.

"What were the Snatchers doing here?" Percy demanded.

Williamson looked at him. "What are you insinuating, Weasley?"

"That it's a hell of a coincidence that the night you find your elusive pregnant woman was the same night the Snatchers happened upon her, too!"

"They aren't as dumb as they look."

Percy's temper surged through his veins. "We could have been killed."

"And somebody was," Oliver growled, coming between the two men. "We need to get her out of here. There could be more Snatchers on their way for all we know."

Dammit, Percy knew Oliver was right. Sparing one more glare at Williamson, Percy was disarmed. The man's face was white in the black night, his expression stricken as he stared past Percy at the woman and her husband. Some of Percy's anger was banked.

"Mary," Percy said quietly. Crouching down, he touched her elbow. "Mary, we need to get you somewhere safe."

Where?

She shook her head. "I can't-I can't leave Mike. Darling, darling, I'm here."

Percy looked at Oliver, who was standing stiffly to the side. Some knight errant, Oliver was useless in the face of crying women. To Percy's surprise, Williamson knelt in front of the couple and placed two fingers against the man's neck.

"Mary," Williamson said softly, touching her face. "Your husband is dead, there's nothing more that we can do for him."

Her face seemed to crumble as she stared at the Auror.

"But my friends and I, we can help you and the baby get to safety."

"What about Mike?" she asked, her voice shrill.

"I'll make sure he's given a proper burial. I'll make him a stone marker, and someday you can bring your child here, tell him how brave his father was."

"I'm in labor," she said just as plainly as if she announced that she was going to the park for a picnic.

All three young men exchanged bewildered looks.

"Well…" Williamson started and took a deep breath.

"Can we Apparate her in this condition?" Oliver asked.

"I can't see how we have any other choice," Williamson replied. "You two take her, make sure she delivers safely…. I mean she can't stay here."

"What about this lot?" Percy asked, and pointed with his wand in the general direction of the fallen Snatchers.

"Leave them to me," Williamson said.

There was a feralness to his tone, his posture suddenly rigid. Maybe Percy should be alarmed by that, but he couldn't quite find it in himself to care about the fate of those wretched humans. Instead, he reached for Mary's hands, only to be stopped by her suddenly rocketing to her feet and groaning loudly.

"What is it?" Oliver asked, panic edging his voice.

"My waters," she cried, and doubled-over with a cry.

"Oh, Merlin," Percy muttered. "I think that baby is on the way."

There was a sudden flurry of activity. Williamson was on his feet. Oliver was standing before Mary letting her lean into his strength. Quickly, his thoughts only bumping together, Percy grabbed his friend's arm in one hand and the pregnant woman's in the other.

Destination. Determination. Deliberation.

Chapter 36

"So, you say dinner's ruined?" Bill asked.

With his head propped up on one hand, Bill ran his fingers over Fleur's sheet-covered hip on a northbound quest. She was sprawled at his side in a tangle of sheets and pale hair, her eyes closed and her mouth curved up at the corners. Bill's stomach was grumbling about food, but other parts of him were quite content to stay just where he was.

"Oui, it will be leftovers for Christmas dinner," Fleur said without opening her eyes.

Fleur was always beautiful, but never more so than in the sated, disheveled aftermath of making love. This was a sight reserved only for Bill. If he were a better man, Bill would feel humbled to have such beauty freely laid before him, but he was nothing if not an arrogant bastard. His ego writhed in the manly glory at having satisfied this stunning woman so thoroughly.

Tonight, however, Bill's machismo was put on hold. He had a lot to be grateful for on this Christmas, not least that Fleur was as committed to him as she was beautiful. Forgiving might be a stretch, Fleur was not forgiving by nature. He was going to have to work at it, and not just in bed. He was going to have to set aside his brooding and accept the comfort his wife offered, even if he didn't feel he deserved it.

Fleur touched his face with light fingers. "What are you zinking, mon Bill?"

"That I'm a very lucky man." He kissed her fingers, then pressed them against his heart.

"Zat is very cliché. I zink you were brooding again, and I am very insulted. I let you make love to me, zen you are sulking." She pushed him onto his back and straddled him. "Did I leave you disappointed?"

With his arms flung above his head, Bill grinned up at his wife. Her hair draped over her shoulders, covering her breasts and hanging nearly to her belly button. Fleur pouted at him, her fingers walking up his chest. Meanwhile, he was consumed with an altogether different type of hunger.

"Disappointed?" Bill curved his hands around her bottom. "Never…but there's always room for improvement if you want to have another go…"

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The coy smile dropped from Fleur's face. "What is zat?"

She rolled off of Bill, securing the sheet around herself as he climbed out of bed and snagged his britches off the floor.

The banging sounded again.

"It sounds like the backdoor," Bill murmured. He buttoned his trousers and grabbed his wand. "I'll check it out, just wait here."

"Do you zink it is Ron?" Fleur bustled after him, the sheet like a toga.

"You'd think so with that timing. Stay here, love, or at least get dressed."

After a quick kiss, Bill raced down the stairs. The banging was getting louder and more insistent as he neared the kitchen. Obscured by the lace curtains, and silhouetted by the night, a tall figure stood on the other side of the door. It could be Ron, but then it could be Percy or even Dad. Or somebody else, and that was the chance Bill couldn't take.

"Declare yourself!"

"Percival Ignatius Weasley, third son of Arthur and Molly Weasley." His words were tripping over themselves. "I broke my leg falling off a broom when I was seven, and Mum mended it. Now hurry up and open the door please!"

Bill yanked the door open to see his little brother's bloodless, wide-eyed face on the threshold.

"Quick, Bill, we've got problems."

Turning on his heel, Percy sprinted off the back porch onto the beach. Shoeless, Bill followed, spotting the burly shape that could only be Oliver Wood supporting a third person. Percy fell in step with his friend, helping him with his burden. With no heed for the cold air against his bare chest or naked feet, Bill's mind tried to puzzle out who the third person could be, but his wonderings came to an abrupt halt at the sound of an agonized scream.

"Lumos Maxima."

Light flared over the beach to reveal a very pregnant woman practically being dragged along the sand by Oliver and Percy. It felt like an eternity as Bill's mind processed the absurdity of the scene before him, but it was only a moment. He rushed forward, already creating a stretcher as his feet moved.

"Here," Bill said. "This should be easier for everybody."

Oliver braced with his knees as he hefted the woman up and onto the stretcher.

"Don't leave me," the woman whimpered, clutching Oliver's hand.

Meanwhile, Oliver looked as if there was nothing he wanted more than to be shot of this woman, but he did his duty and held onto her hand.

"Friend of yours?" Bill asked with a smirk.

"This is not the moment to take the mickey," Percy snapped.

"Right. So, we're in labor, are we?"

"Bill, so help me, if you don't get us into the bloody house right this instant, I will personally let Oliver beat the shite out of you," Percy said.

With a flick of his wand, the stretcher bore its burden back to the house where it was met with a fully dressed Fleur. The laboring mother groaned, crushing Oliver's hand. Fleur stood on the woman's other side, her lips folded into a flat line for one moment, before she pointed to the parlor.

"In zere," she instructed. "Percy, zere is a basket full of supplies in my stillroom, fetch zem, s'il te plaît." She marched after the stretcher. "What is happening?"

Oliver glanced up. "A bunch of Snatchers were after her and her husband."

"Where is he, zee husband?"

"Dead."

Horror replaced Bill's sense of absurdity as he glanced at Percy who was bustling into the room with Fleur's cache of supplies. Bill helped his brother spread sheets across the rug, wondering how Percy and Oliver just happened to come across a wizarding couple in danger.

"I see," Fleur said calmly. "And now she is in labor?"

Fleur's question was met with another scream from the woman.

Bill lowered the stretcher onto the sheeting, then Vanished it. Fleur knelt by the woman, taking her hand, brushing hair from her forehead. In the face of his wife's calm, the woman was nearly hyperventilating. She was very pale and her eyes glassy.

"Bonsoir," Fleur said soothingly. "My name is Fleur, and I am going to help you and your bébé. What is your name?"

"Mary."

"Ah. Mais oui. Mary, we shall see about having a Christmas baby, non?"

The woman shook her head. "No, no, no. I can't." She gritted her teeth, arching her back against the pain. "I—Mike is gone—I can't do this without him."

"Zis Mike, he is here. He is part of your baby, and zat is why you must do all you can to deliver zis baby safely. For your Mike."

Mary began to sob, but it was cut off by another contraction. Bill couldn't help but notice how quickly those contractions were coming. This baby was on its way.

"Zis is our friend, Oliver," Fleur told Mary, beckoning the young man over. "He will stay wiz you while I prepare for zee little one."

When Fleur stood and turned to Bill, the mask of calm assurance was gone. She hurried into the kitchen, Bill and Percy following in her wake. Standing at her butcher's block, Fleur's hands shook.

"Bill, go get your mother," she instructed, her face pinched with worry.

"Mum?" Percy croaked. "I-I can't see Mum."

"Do not be a coward," Fleur snapped.

Agreeing with his wife's harsh words, but having no time to add his own, Bill turned on his heel and raced up the stairs two at a time. He threw on the jumper that he'd discarded earlier. It was but a moment to pull on his socks and boots, his mind narrowing to focus only on what he needed to do next. Fetch his mum, of course. If there was one witch who knew about birthing babies, it was Molly Weasley.

There was no time to waste, judging by the screams from the sitting room. Bill heard Oliver's low murmurs as he strode through the kitchen and out the backdoor. He didn't envy the younger man his job. The idea of watching Fleur labor with their child was frightening, but a total stranger? That was terrifying. Bill shook off his thoughts as he reached the Apparition point on the beach. A quick turn, a bit of determination, and he was standing near the Burrow's orchard. He ran through barren trees, over hard packed dirt, barely feeling the cold wind that whipped at his skin. Mum's name was already on Bill's lips before he crashed through the door of his childhood home.

A half-dozen people were roused, each of them pointing a wand at Bill.

"Son," Dad said, pushing ahead of Mum and Ginny. "Whatever is going on?"

"I've no time to explain," Bill said. "But I need Mum. Hurry, please."

"Of course," Mum said, she trundled down the stairs, to be blocked by Dad's outstretched arm. "Arthur, really! Bill, what is the trouble? Is it Fleur?"

"No, Fleur is fine, but maybe you should grab some blankets and nappies before we go."

oOo

As Bill was rushing out of Shell Cottage to retrieve his mother, Fleur went to the library to consult her Magi-Medical book. She had been nine when Gabrielle was born, and Fleur remembered some things about pregnancy and birth from that time. Lambing season on her papa's farm usually coincided with her Easter holiday, but Fleur did not suppose that delivering a human baby was like birthing a lamb. In all honesty, Fleur felt a little frightened of what she was about to do and needed a moment to calm her nerves.

Her eyes flew over the words in the book, her brain cataloguing information about contractions, dilatation, and potions. Meanwhile, her mind's eye showed Fleur her maman, resplendent and round in pregnancy. In the final days, Maman had glowed with health and beauty, but young Fleur had been worried.

"What is it, my girl?" Maman asked.

Clenching her small hands, Fleur starred at her mother's large mid-section. "Are you not afraid? Will it not hurt?"

"But of course it will hurt, but I am not afraid. The pain will only last a short time, and then I will have another beautiful child."

Fleur tried to smile, but her face must have betrayed her for Maman brushed her hair back and smiled tranquilly.

"Giving birth is the most natural thing in the world, my love, and we Veela, we are of nature, no? Always trust in nature and your Veela blood will guide you."

Fleur was pulled from her memories by screaming. Snapping the book shut, she raced back to the sitting room, only to collide with Oliver half way there. She bounced off his solid chest, staring up at him in surprise.

"Um, she needs…." Oliver pointed to the sitting room. "I don't…. She isn't…. C'mon!"

Fleur whisked past the burly young man. "Where is Percy?"

"Gone."

Tsking, Fleur put her brother-in-law out of her mind. It was just as well that he was gone. What lay ahead of them on this evening was woman's work, and surely having one less male clod about was a good thing. Striding into the sitting room, for one mad moment Fleur wondered if she should get rid of the sofa and chairs and turn this room into a surgery.

That moment of silliness fled quickly. Mary was on all fours on the floor, panting and crying. There was a wild energy in the room. It pressed on Fleur with edges of panic and sorrow. It felt like a whirlwind that was quickly escalating to full-scale tempest. Tossing the Magi-Medical book into the nearby chair, Fleur braced herself against the storm of emotions.

The baby could not be delivered safely if the mother was hysterical, this much Fleur knew. She pictured in her mind calm waters, warm sun, and cool breezes. If she could make Ron feel miserable, then surely she could make this woman feel calm. Remembering what her magic felt like when Fleur plunged her fingers into the foamy dirt, she projected a sense of serenity as she knelt before Mary.

"Chérie," Fleur said throatily. "Let us get you out of zese wet clothes. Oliver, will you build up zee fire, s'il te plaît."

While Oliver did as he was told, Fleur helped Mary onto her back, then Vanished layer after layer until the woman was clad only in a t-shirt. Still she whimpered, her breath catching as each contraction came, but the storm seemed to have quieted in the face of Fleur's magic. It was draining to focus so much of her Veela magic, but Fleur concentrated on the work at hand and not on the sensation of energy seeping from her body.

"What can I do?" Oliver asked. He was at Mary's side, seeming much less likely to panic.

"Hold Mary's hand," Fleur said gently as she pushed the other woman's knees further apart. Placing one hand on Mary's belly, Fleur noted that it tightened with contractions at an alarming rate. With the other hand, Fleur checked Mary's cervix. The book had said a witch was fully dilated when an entire hand could be inserted, and then it would be time to deliver.

Looking at Mary, Fleur forced a smile. "I zink zis baby is ready to be born."

"No." Mary shook her head, tears rolling down her cheeks. "No, it can't. It wasn't supposed-ah!"

Projecting more calm, Fleur wished fervently that Bill would return with his mother.

oOo

Under a Disillusionment spell, Percy stood on the edge of Fleur's garden, shaking in the cold. He was colder on the inside than the wind that buffeted him. There was simply no doubt about it, he'd royally messed up this time. Fleur's accusation rang in his ears—coward. He was, utterly and completely so. But the look of rage mingled with disappointment on Oliver's face as Percy rushed out of the door might have haunted him more. This wasn't the first time he'd walked out on Oliver in his time of need.

Merlin knew what Bill would think when he returned home.

Yet, for all of his cowardliness, Percy hadn't been able to escape more than twenty feet from the house. What if something went wrong? What if they needed him? The what ifs kept Percy nearby. Though, if he were honest, he wanted to see Mum, but he didn't want to have to face her. Merlin, he really was a coward.

Two figures moved up the beach—the tall, lean one appeared to be pushing the smaller, rounder one through the gate and up the stairs. As they came into the light that was shining through the window of the backdoor, Percy got a glimpse of his mother's face.

He was a bloody idiot.

oOo

Bill rushed his mother through the messy kitchen into the sitting room where Fleur was kneeling between the laboring mother's legs and Oliver clutched the woman's hand. The moment he crossed the threshold, Bill could feel the magic in the room. The anxiousness that had been burning at a low level in his gut eased away. Looking at Fleur, there was a dull, grayish light emanating from her, and yet he struggled to produce the correct amount of concern.

Glancing at his mother, he could see that she, too, felt the magic and its effects. Just as if she were sitting down for a cup of tea, Mum knelt beside Fleur and smiled.

"I zink she is ready to deliver," Fleur said.

Mum nodded, then looked at Mary. "What's your name, dear?"

"M-Mary," the woman said, then grimaced in pain.

"Well, let's get you in a more comfortable position. Bill."

Under Mum's direction, Bill and Oliver helped Mary into a semi-sitting position, supporting her on each side.

"Now," Mum said, "when you feel a contraction come, I want you to push."

Fleur started to get up, but Mum put a hand on her shoulder.

"I-I'm rea—ahhh!" Mary yelled through gritted teeth.

"Now!" Mum said. "Push! One, two three…."

Mary crushed Bill's hand.

"Four, five, six, seven…."

Glancing over, Bill saw Oliver close his eyes.

"Eight, nine, ten. Rest."

Mary panted, her hand slackening around Bill's.

"When you're ready," Mum said.

Another contraction came, and there was more screaming and hand crushing. Bill didn't know how much time passed, but after the fourth attempt at pushing, Mum told Mary to rest for a while. The woman leaned heavily into Oliver, trembling and crying softly. At Mary's feet, Mum and Fleur had their heads together, whispering, but Bill heard the words "nothing is happening." Fear ticked up his throat, over the force of Fleur's magic.

"Move," Mum instructed, scooting across the floor to take Bill's spot supporting Mary whom she addressed next. "Dear, you are pushing from your chest. I need you to push from your pelvis, just like you are taking a poo, isn't it? Now, on the next contraction."

With Mum clutching one hand, Mary bared her teeth and began pushing once more. She didn't scream this time, instead she grunted, her chin sinking into her chest and her face turning red. Meanwhile, Fleur's brow was puckered in concentration, mouthing the numbers in French, but once she reached "dix," she smiled.

"Good!" Fleur gushed. "Mary, I can see zee head. Zee-zee baby has black hair, I zink!"

"We're getting there," Mum said to Mary. "One more time."

On the next push, the head crowned. The scream that came from Mary curdled Bill's blood. As long as he lived, he didn't think he would forget that particular register of pain. He locked eyes with Oliver over the heads of the women in a silent, but thankful, agreement that they were born without uteruses. As quickly as the scream came, Bill was being pushed into service again as Mum went to kneel by Fleur once more.

"The baby's crowning, love," Mum announced. "One more push. You can do it!"

Mary screamed anew with the next contraction, her hand like a vise around Bill's.

"Head is out!" Fleur announced with a wide smile.

"Alright," Mum said to Fleur, her face puckered in worry. "You have to guide the shoulders out, one at a time."

At that pronouncement, Bill was decidedly glad it was his job to support the upper half of the mother. Mary was breathing heavily, sagging between Bill and Oliver after her great effort. In those few seconds, Bill really looked at the woman. She was probably about his age, though he didn't remember her. Pale skin, black hair, button nose, she was pretty. But there were also shadows under her eyes and hollows in her cheeks. Life had been hard for her in these last months, when rightfully she should have been enjoying her pregnancy.

A new cry rent the air. This one the desperate and confused squall of an infant taking its first breath.

Bill looked at his wife, whose face was radiating with a golden glow as she gazed down at the naked, blue form in her hands. Spindly limbs moved jerkily, unaccustomed to its new freedom. Fleur cuddled the baby to her chest, rubbing his skin with a blanket that Mum handed her until the baby began to turn pink.

"It is a boy," Fleur said. "And he has black hair, Mary, just like you."

Mary looked curiously at Fleur, a half smile on her face. It seemed almost an afterthought when Fleur passed the bundled baby into the other woman's arms. Between the two of them, one would have thought that Fleur was the one who had just become a mother.

"He doesn't look like Mike," Mary said, but she kissed the baby's head.

oOo

After the placenta had been delivered, Fleur was glad to let Molly take over. Instructing the men to move mother and child to the master bedroom, Molly had bustled up the stairs nattering about clean sheets and nightclothes and sanitary napkins. Meanwhile, Fleur knelt on the floor in her sitting room, basking in the glow of having just delivered a baby.

She felt winded and drained from having used so much of her Veela magic. At that moment, Fleur did not think she could so much as light her wand. Yet, her magic had served her well. Maman had been right, trusting nature and her Veela magic had guided Fleur in the right direction, with the generous help of Molly Weasley, of course.

The moment the baby had slipped from his mother's body into Fleur's hands had been the most wondrous of Fleur's life. Holding that wiggling ball of sinew and energy had been like holding her wand for the first time. It felt so right, so natural, so powerful. Joy, like the kind Fleur had only ever known on her wedding day, had blossomed in Fleur's heart and pumped through her veins. Even now, she could feel its remnants tingling in her fingers and toes.

"Oh, Fleur," Molly said, bustling in with a pile of white cloths pressed to her bosom. "Haven't you moved yet?"

Pushing to her feet, Fleur smiled at her mother-in-law. "I needed a moment to zink."

"You did very well, dear."

"I am not zee one who had zee baby." Fleur laughed.

"Well, no, not this time, but it was very brave of you to just jump right in like that. And you kept your head, which isn't an easy thing to do."

Blackness crowded around the edges of Fleur's sight. She pressed her hand to her head. "Where was my head supposed to go?"

"Are you well, dear?" Molly's voice sounded as though it was coming from miles away.

Fleur tried to nod, but instead it felt as though she was falling.

oOo

"You overdid it."

Sitting on the edge of the settee, Bill watched as his wife blinked her eyes. He'd been in the bedroom, helping to settle Mary onto fresh sheets when he'd heard his mum calling. Racing down the steps, alert to new disaster, Bill had seen Fleur's limp body in Mum's arms. His heart had fallen into his boots.

"Too much Veela magic," Bill said lightly, but he meant it as an admonishment.

"Did I faint in front of your mother?" Fleur asked.

"Yes."

"How humiliating."

"It gets worse. She thinks you need tea."

Fleur scowled.

Bill picked up a cup and saucer, smirking at her. "It's lucky I love you and filled this with wine then, isn't it? Although a cup full of tea is what you deserve."

"I did not mean to worry you," Fleur murmured, pushing herself into a sitting position. "But Mary was hysterical, I had to do something!"

"You were amazing, as usual."

Fleur smiled a little bit. "Oh Bill, delivering zee baby…zat was amazing."

"I could tell. I didn't think you were going to give him over."

"Non," she shook her head. "I-I felt like I was where I should be."

For a moment, Bill just looked at her from under his lashes. She was glowing again, her smile wide and unfettered. Pride filled Bill for this capable and talented young woman he was smart enough to marry. He could hear the awe in her voice, and he understood it. That was how he had felt the first time he broke into a cursed tomb. It was how he felt when he saw Fleur walking towards him in that white dress and veil. Bill linked his fingers through hers, the happiness he felt for Fleur shining in his eyes.

"Oh good, you're awake."

Bill turned to see Mum stride into the room.

"You gave us quite the scare, young lady," she admonished, wagging a finger at Fleur.

Meekly, Fleur took the teacup full of wine. "I am very sorry."

"Well, see that you don't do it again. Bill, I should be going or your father will worry. See me out."

Despite the pleasantness of Mum's words, Bill heard the command behind it. The woman had followed him out of her house and into the cold with hardly an explanation, he reckoned he owed her one. Not that he had much of an explanation to offer. Now that the baby was born and the house was quiet, Bill realized that he had no idea how Percy and Oliver came to be standing on his doorstep with a pregnant woman.

Trailing Mum into the kitchen, Bill braced himself for what was coming.

"Where is Percy?" Mum spun on her heel to face Bill, her mouth pursed and her brown eyes blazing.

This was not what he had been expecting.

"P-Percy? I don't know—"

"Save it, William. Oliver Wood doesn't just show up in your home without Percy far behind."

That was a good point.

"Mum—"

"What are you up to in Shell Cottage? You don't come to Christmas, but then you show up begging my help because you've got a woman about to give birth in your parlor. Who is she? Where is her husband?"

"I don't know who she is other than her name is Mary, and she is Muggle-born. And the husband—he was killed. Tonight, I think."

"And how did she end up here?"

Bill sighed, leaning one hip against the counter. "All excellent questions, Mum, but I'm afraid I don't know the answers to all of them, and the rest I can't answer."

Just then, Oliver walked in. He looked around, his shoulders up around his ears as if he were trying to make himself smaller. It was futile, Oliver looked like the proverbial bull in the china cabinet, but he at least diverted Mum's attention from Bill.

"Uh, it's been grand," Oliver said, and rubbed the back of his neck. "But I'm supposed to report to Puddlemere early tomorrow. So…."

"Oh, Oliver," Mum gushed and went to kiss his cheek, hugging him tightly as if that would somehow extend the gesture to her wayward son. "Thank you for all of your help. That young woman seemed very comforted by your presence."

"Don't know why," Oliver muttered.

"Maybe it's all of the muscles," Bill teased, reaching around his mother to pinch Oliver's bicep.

"Bill," Mum scolded and slapped his hand.

Oliver blushed and looked away. It suddenly hit Bill that he was treating Oliver like one of his little brothers. Or more importantly, that Oliver hadn't been treated like a little brother since April. Guilt rushed through Bill as the other man ambled out the door. He wondered when was the last time Oliver had seen his brothers?

"Keep your secrets, Bill," Mum huffed as the door banged shut behind Oliver.

One guilt was replaced with another as he looked at his mum. "Sorry, but it's better if you don't know too much."

"As if I don't have enough to worry about."

When she already had seven children and a war to worry about, could the weight of one more concern really make a difference? Bill was afraid the answer was "yes." How much could one woman bear before she broke? Even a woman as strong as his mum.

"Just…. Just tell Percy that I miss him," she said. "And if he wants to come home, he is welcome."

Bill shook his head. "You know Perce, he's so full of pride and stubbornness."

"I know. He's no different than rest of you lot."

"I think the problem is that he rather doesn't see it that way."

Mum clucked her tongue. "He's not wrong in some ways."

Suddenly, Bill saw Percy's point of view. It wasn't that Percy thought he couldn't go home—hadn't he tried last Christmas? Yes, he was an idiot to think he couldn't look Mum in the eye, but Percy was the same and different. He had all of the Weasley's worst qualities, and none of the good except the intelligence. He couldn't walk into the Burrow and hope to charm Ginny to his side or kid the twins out of hating him. All of Percy's best qualities were quiet and unappreciated by his rowdy siblings. Percy was going to have to prove himself if he hoped to mend fences.

Bill saw his mum out the door with a heavy weight on his mind.

oOo

"Oliver! Wait!"

The burly Keeper whirled around, shoving a wand into Percy's throat.

"Bloody hell, Percy!"

"Sorry," Percy muttered, hands up.

Only moments ago, Percy had been standing on the beach, trying to catch his best mate before he Disapparated. As usual, Percy was too late. The best he could do was Disapparate himself into the street near Oliver's Puddlemere building and hope he was correct about his mate's intended destination. Now the two of them stood under a street lamp outside a brick walk-up, a clock chiming midnight somewhere in the distance.

"Sounds like this miserable holiday is finally over," Oliver muttered, stowing his wand away. "Come inside before you freeze your bollocks off."

They didn't speak again until they were inside Oliver's flat. Two large duffle bags with the Puddlemere United crest sat by the door, along with a matching equipment bag. Percy looked from the bags to his friend. This was why he was so keen to catch Oliver. He had to apologize before Oliver left for France.

"I just wanted to say that I'm sorry," Percy said. He pushed his glasses up. "For walking out. I panicked, I reckon."

Oliver just stared at him for a moment, then stuck one hand in his jeans pocket. "Perce, why is it easier for you to apologize to me than your own family?"

Percy flapped his lips for a solid thirteen seconds, completely lost for words.

"If you want my forgiveness, then make up with Bill, at least." Oliver took Percy by the shoulders and turned him towards the door. "Now, I'm knackered, and I want a shower, and I bloody well don't want to see you until I get back."

"Say hello to Catriona and Katie."

"Wee social visit that it is."

Percy laughed. "Audrey and I are together now."

"Oh?" Oliver's hands fell off Percy's shoulders. "Did she tell you about Fred?"

Percy turned to face his friend. "Yes."

"Sorry, mate, for not telling you."

"I think you were right. I think it needed to be Audrey who told me."

"And you're okay with it?" Oliver asked.

"I think so." Percy shrugged. "I can't spend my entire life competing with my brothers, can I? Besides, Audrey's with me, not Fred."

Oliver shook his head. "I like Audrey, you know that. If the two of you don't bollocks this up, you might be good for each other. But take it easy, Perce. For both of your sakes. And go visit your brother. Now, get the hell out of my flat."

Chapter 37

Boxing Day found Fleur waking up in the second guest room bed, Bill nearly hanging off the other side of the narrow mattress. For a moment, Fleur smiled, then rolled into him, burying her head into his back. Already, faint light was filtering through the gauzy curtains, and Fleur knew she should get up, but it felt so nice to be snuggled close to Bill on a cold winter morning.

"'Lo," Bill muttered thickly. He rolled over, putting his arm around Fleur. "How are you feeling?"

"Much better."

The pair lie curled into each other under the counterpane for a quiet, peaceful moment, but as the light through the window grew brighter, Fleur's mind began to catalog a long list of concerns. She wondered how Mary and the baby were doing. Fleur did not know the first thing about feeding a baby. Would Molly return today? Somehow, Fleur suspected that she could not keep her mother-in-law away now that there was a baby under the roof. That was another concern. Mary could not stay at Shell Cottage. When could they safely move the two of them? And to where?

"You are too awake," Bill complained. "I can feel you thinking."

Fleur laughed. "We have much to zink about, I am afraid."

"We do," Bill allowed, but he burrowed his head further into the pillow.

"Will your mother come?"

"I'm surprised she's not here already."

"I should visit our houseguest," Fleur said. Reluctantly, she rolled out from under Bill's arm into the chill of the room.

"I grabbed some clothes from our room last night, so don't worry about getting my robes," Bill said as he sat up and stretched his arms above his head.

Fleur kissed Bill's scarred cheek before pulling on her dressing gown and padding down the hall. She stopped just outside her bedroom door, thinking about the woman on the other side. Pressing her ear to the door, Fleur could hear the faint sounds of crying. Not sobs, but the kind of tears that went on and on. It was all too easy to imagine what Mary must be going through. Had Fleur not nearly lost her Bill? Had she not watched her friend, Catriona Wood, mourn her husband? Yet, just like Catriona, Mary had a small babe who needed her strength, who would be her comfort. Picturing the squalling newborn, Fleur pushed down the lump forming in her throat and knocked on the door.

It was a moment before she was bade entry, but inside Fleur found the room flooded with morning sunlight. Mary was sitting up in bed, wearing one of Fleur's white nightgowns, her black hair straggling around her tear stained face. Looking around, Fleur spotted the baby swaddled in a bassinette.

"Where did zis come from?" Fleur asked touching the plain, wooden cot.

"Your husband…I think he is?" Mary's voice was husky from strain. "He transfigured a dresser drawer."

Fleur smiled. "Ah. He is very clever."

"You're the woman who delivered the baby?"

"Oui. I am Fleur, and zis is my home. Welcome."

Mary dipped her head. "Thank you. I don't know what would have become of us…."

She didn't finish her thought, and Fleur put it out of her mind. The alternatives were horrific, nothing but nightmares awaited that train of thought. Instead, Fleur looked down at the baby. The plain blanket was wrapped like a cocoon around his small body. Very straight, silky black hair stuck up in tufts all over his head. He was so soundly asleep that Fleur could have mistaken him for a doll, but the warmness of his cheek against her finger told another story.

"He is très beau," Fleur said softly. "Have you fed him?"

"Before Molly left. Is she your mother-in-law?" Mary responded.

Fleur glanced at the clock on the bedside table. "But zat was hours ago!"

Her memories were indistinct due to age and her youth at the time, but Fleur felt sure that Maman fed Gabrielle every few hours when she was this small. Frustration coursed through Fleur. She hated that she knew so little about the care of small babies and longed to run for her healing books in the library, desperate for an answer. What she really needed, and it vexed Fleur to admit it, was Molly.

"I zink perhaps you should feed him again," Fleur said.

"And wake him up?"

Fleur looked at the baby. Waking him seemed nonsensical, but so did not feeding him.

"I would like to shower," Mary said.

That, at least, Fleur felt sure she could manage. Huffing slightly, she fetched towels for her guest. Once she heard the shower running, Fleur went downstairs to prepare breakfast. Something else she could do for her guest without second guessing herself. She found her husband fully dressed and cleaning the kitchen with magic.

"You look troubled," Bill said. "Everything alright with mother and child?"

"I do not know," Fleur admitted. She summoned a scrub brush to start cleaning the stovetop. "Have you heard from your mother this morning?"

Fleur glanced at Bill, whose eyes were clouded with concern.

"It must be serious," he said. "If you want Mum around."

oOo

"Did you have a nice Christmas?" Percy pulled the hat off of Audrey and kissed the top of her head.

She swatted at him with a mittened hand. "Sarah finally told Mother that she left Albert. It was great! Were you lonely?"

"Um," Percy started. He hung Audrey's coat on the rack. Where did he begin? "It was a rather eventful holiday, after all."

"Oh?"

The shame he felt at walking out on Bill and Oliver sat uneasily in his gut. Percy didn't want to talk about it. He didn't want to see Audrey's mouth purse in disapproval. Yet, she was looking up at him with those big, brown eyes—they were incredible, really—and all he wanted to do was confide in her.

"I was immensely stupid," Percy admitted.

"Oh, so nothing new then?" Audrey replied with a sly grin.

He laughed, despite the squirming in his stomach and heaviness in his chest.

"How do you do that?" he asked, brushing his hand through her hair.

"Do what?"

"Make me laugh when I don't deserve it."

She wrapped her arms around his middle. "Why wouldn't you deserve laughter?"

"Because I'm a terrible person?"

"Hm. I see. Well, that's the difference between the two of us, isn't it? I don't think you are terrible at all. Now, why don't you tell me what you've done, and we'll see about fixing it."

Twenty minutes later, they were sat on the sofa, and Percy had confessed all. He was clinging to the arm, legs crossed, and face buried in his hand. The telling had been awkward, filled with plenty of false starts and stumbling speech. When it was over, Percy risked raising his head to steal a look at Audrey. Her expression was blank, but not unkind.

After a moment, Audrey climbed onto Percy, straddling his lap. "You are an idiot, aren't you?"

"All I've ever wanted was to be a good son, a dutiful brother. Why am I so bad at this?" He rested his hands on her hips.

After that one last confession, neither of them said anything for a long moment. Percy tested the weight of his words in his mind, trying to gage just how truthful he had been, and the answer was that he had never said anything truer in his life. Being the "good" son had been what set him apart whilst he was growing up, all the other jobs having already been filled. And being good meant looking after his younger siblings, especially once Bill and Charlie left home. But no matter how hard he tried, it was never enough to escape the shadow of his older brothers or garner the respect of his younger ones. Percy closed his eyes, leaning his head against Audrey's chest.

"I'm no expert," Audrey murmured, stroking her fingers through his curls. "I've certainly had my fair share of family problems, but perhaps the problem is that you are trying instead of just being."

oOo

Fleur walked into the kitchen with her nose stuck in her healing book, searching futilely for any mention of the care of newborn babies. Blasted wizards, they were always more concerned with the magical than the ordinary. If the baby had been hexed, Fleur could have found a dozen counter-spells or potions to remedy that, but not a single word about the mundane. Growling, Fleur snapped the book shut.

"No help?" Bill asked. He was at the stove stirring a pot of porridge.

"None! Bill, do you remember when your brothers and Ginny were first born?"

Fleur's recollection of Gabrielle at that age seemed vague. The memories that Fleur held of her baby sister were of a tiny cherub who clapped and laughed, a far cry from the small bundle upstairs. Dimly, Fleur seemed to recall that her newborn sister was boring in everyway unless Fleur had been in the mood to snuggle.

"A bit," Bill allowed. "My memories of Percy and the twins are vague, but I remember Ron and Ginny quiet well."

"How often should a newborn nurse?"

"All the time, or that's they way I remember it. It seemed like Mum had Ginny to her breast day and night."

Fleur had thought as much.

"Seems like all they ever did was eat, shite, and sleep," Bill added, ladling porridge into a bowl and dusting it with sugar. "What does your Veela nature tell you?"

Fleur smiled. "Zat I should wake zat baby and have Mary feed him."

"There you go."

With a kiss on her forehead, Bill pressed a tray set with the porridge and a mug of tea into Fleur's hands to carry up to Mary. In the bedroom, Fleur found Mary sitting up in bed just like before, but now her hair was wet and she wore a fresh nightgown. Her face was perhaps even blotchier than it had been before. There was a strange mix of emotions swirling in the room. First, and foremost, was the heaviness of grief. Fleur found this understandable, of course, but there was another. Fleur's shoulders jerked up, and she glanced at the plain bassinette. Whatever this emotion was, Fleur did not like it. It was bland, like the porridge on the tray, and yet as insidious as fog.

"I brought you breakfast." Fleur said as she placed the tray over Mary's lap. "He still has not awakened?"

"No," Mary answered. "He just sleeps."

Fleur peered into the cot to find the baby sleeping as soundly as before. His blankets were as colorless as the porridge. Taking out her wand, Fleur changed the plain cotton to a robin's egg blue, the color of spring. Just that small change made Fleur smile, scooping up the baby and placing a kiss on his white cheek.

"Bonjour, monsieur," Fleur murmured. "He needs a name."

Mary did not answer. When Fleur looked up, she found the other woman staring out the window, spoon in hand. With a sigh, Fleur nuzzled the baby close, feeling his breath against her skin. She was at a loss. She did not know what to say or to do for this Mary. It was tempting to use her Veela magic again. She could alleviate Mary's grief, force her to show interest in her son, but to what end? Fleur's magic would leave her weak and useless, and Mary would return to this state.

More than that, Fleur could not understand Mary. The depression and grief were all too easy to empathize with. All Fleur had to do was imagine life without her Bill, it caused such an ache in her chest that she wanted to sink into the floor. It was this other feeling, this flatness, that Fleur could not understand, she could not even name. It was not Fleur's imagination that this emotion was to do with the baby. Fleur could not imagine a scenario in which she would not fight for a child of hers.

"We stopped talking about names after the invitation came from the Commission," Mary said at last. "How could he have survived when no one else did?"

"Perhaps he is a miracle," Fleur said quietly.

Mary said nothing to this.

"When you have finished your breakfast, you must try to feed him."

Fortune seemed to finally be on Fleur's side. By the time it was obvious that Mary would not eat more than a few spoonfuls, Molly was bustling in bearing a stack of linens. The knot of worry eased in Fleur's chest as she felt the force of Molly's personality wash over the room. Molly's smile was like sunshine as she tucked nappies and blankets away and chattered about the joy of new babies.

"But, dear, it must be hard on you," Molly said to Mary once everything was in order. "You lost your husband? Have you any other family?"

Tears came to Mary's eyes. "Th-they've all been killed. Snatchers."

Molly bared her teeth, and Fleur gasped.

"Well, they're not all gone, are they?" Molly said. She took the baby from Fleur, and smiled at her. "Did you change the color of the blanket, dear? How pretty."

A small smiled came to Fleur's lips.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Molly unwrapped the blanket. The baby was clad only in a white, cloth nappy, a bandage Spello-taped over the stump of his umbilical cord. He stirred, his spindly limbs jerking into his body. Molly smiled, placing the baby on Mary's lap. The other woman's hands fluttered up like startled birds, her breath hitching in her chest.

"You've still got this one," Mary said. "My Percy and Ron were gangly like this, still are I imagine. Now, we must wake him up so that he can nurse. A new baby must feed every two or three hours, but they are rubbish at telling you."

"I didn't know." Mary's lip trembled. "All of the baby books I bought were destroyed."

Molly clucked. "It's hard when you've no mother to help you. I had three children already when my mum passed, but I sorely missed her when the next four came. Especially the twins! They were a handful—but that is neither here nor there. Now, try to move his arms and legs about—there you go. Let's get him awake."

After a moment, the baby let out a short, plaintive cry. Molly moved him into his mother's arms, Mary's eyes large as she beheld the flailing child whose face was growing redder and redder by the moment. Fleur moved around the bed, craning her neck to watch as Molly adjust the neck of Mary's nightgown, the baby rooting at her chest and trying to jam his fist into his mouth.

"Fleur," Molly said without looking at her. "Bill was supposed to fix a bottle, be a dear and fetch that please."

Fleur had a mind to Summon the bottle rather than fetch it. She did not like being dismissed. How was she to know how to help Mary later if she did not stay to watch? Molly did not even afford Fleur the courtesy of looking at her. However, one look at Mary's tight face and glistening eyes ended Fleur's indignation. Quietly she slipped into the kitchen where her husband had a row of glass bottles and nipples freshly cleaned.

"What is this?" Fleur asked.

"Mother's Milk potion," Bill replied, pouring the concoction into one of the bottles. "Mum brought it with her, just add a few drops to cow's milk and it simulates the mother's."

Fleur accepted the bottle. "We used something similar with the lambs on the farm."

Returning upstairs, Fleur hovered near the door, doing her best to remain unobtrusive. The nursing session was short, and seemingly unproductive. Both mother and child were crying at the end of it, but Molly simply shushed them and took the bottle from Fleur. Encouraging Mary to hold the baby against her chest, he took the bottle greedily until he fell into a deep sleep once again.

After swaddling the baby and placing him in his cot, Molly hustled Fleur from the room into the hall. The two women stood in silence for a moment. Fleur was glad to be done with Mary for now. Wrapping her arms around herself, Fleur watched as her mother-in-law leaned against the closed door and wiped her eyes.

"That poor girl," Molly murmured. "She has a hard road ahead of her."

"At least she has zee baby, n'est-ce pas?" Fleur said, gripping her arms tighter.

"I don't think she sees it that way."

"How can she not?" Fleur demanded. "He is an innocent. He is her child."

"And there are few things in this world worse than the guilt of not being able to bond with your baby. I should know. It took months for me to properly love Ginny after my brothers died." Molly shook her head. "Come, dear, I'll show you how to mix the Mother's Milk potion."

Molly moved briskly down the stairs, leaving Fleur rooted to her spot. Her eyes moved from her industrious mother-in-law to the door of the bedroom. Suddenly, she saw both women with new eyes. In all these months, Fleur had only ever seen Molly as Bill's mother. A sometimes enemy, a sometimes ally, but always somebody who loved Bill as much as Fleur did. She had never thought of Molly as somebody capable of such lowering and human failings. Somehow learning that Molly, too, was fallible did not diminish Fleur's esteem, in fact she realized for the first time that she had come to love the stubborn, smothering woman. That love made it easier to empathize with Mary. After all, if Molly could suffer such a failing, then how could Fleur hold judgment for a weaker soul?

oOo

Bill opened the door, his eyes skimming over the top of Audrey's head to stare into his brother's eyes.

"You are nothing if not predictable," Bill accused, his mouth twitching with a suppressed smirk.

"What?" Percy demanded.

Audrey ducked under Bill's arm into the house.

"Mum left not forty minutes ago, and here you are," Bill said.

Percy closed the door behind him. "That wasn't planned."

"This time."

Percy opened his mouth to retort, but he was cut short by the high-pitched squeal of two women being reunited after a two-month separation. Both men grimaced, Bill shaking his ear with his finger. Yet he could feel the tension easing, and Bill was left happy to see his little brother.

"Why do they do that?" Percy asked, still squinting.

"I should think that's best left to the mystery of the ages."

Percy fussed with his hat and gloves. "I wanted to check on Mary and the baby."

"They're doing as well as can be expected," Bill answered, then sighed. "Fleur says Mary is in a bad way, emotionally."

"That's to be expected, too, I imagine."

"How did you and Oliver come across this woman?"

Percy blanched. He shoved his glasses up twice before saying, "That's a bit of a long story."

"I'll just put the kettle on then, shall I?"

Percy looked like he would rather eat slugs, but with a sigh, he sat at the table. "I reckon it all starts back in October. Do you recall Liam Williamson?"

That Percy's story took more than half an hour to relate was not surprising. Percy was nothing if not long winded. That Percy's tale included clandestine meetings with a spy within the Auror department left Bill feeling unsettled. That Percy had neglected to mention Mr. Williamson until this point left Bill decidedly unhappy.

"Were you ever going to tell Fleur or me about Williamson?" Bill leaned across the table, pushing his face near Percy's. "You've blindly placed your trust in this man and put the Order of Mercy in jeopardy."

"I never do anything blindly," Percy argued, a hard glint in his eye as he stared back at Bill. "You should know that about me by now. I took my time. I did my due diligence. Audrey, Oliver, and I—"

"What of Fleur? She organized this operation, she's put her life on the line for this. How could you endanger her like that?"

Percy wilted against the back of the chair. "I'm sorry," he muttered. "I wanted to keep the circle of people in the know small. I mean, Williamson is risking his life, too."

"Maybe the person you should have included in your decision making was the person who organized this whole mad enterprise and not your best mate and the girl you're shagging."

"It was right after Fleur was attacked in Diagon Alley, Bill. It didn't occur to me to burden her with this after what happened."

"It was after we rowed." Bill crossed his arms, throwing his words down like a challenge.

Percy eyed him for a moment, then nodded. "It was. Look, Bill, call me a coward, or a traitor, or a git, but don't think me reckless. I would never do anything to put Fleur at risk."

His younger brother was staring Bill in the eye, daring him to believe his words. To believe one good thing of him. Leaning back, Bill reigned in his temper. Anything that hinted at danger for Fleur set his hackles up, but dammit, Percy was right. Of all people, Bill could trust Percy to be careful. Maybe not with his own well-being, but with others. Besides, having an inside man in the Auror department was certainly advantageous. Still, Bill might quiz Tonks and Kingsley about this Williamson.

"I know," Bill conceded, his teeth clenched.

"I should have told you and Fleur immediately," Percy allowed.

The two men stared at each other for a moment. This was not the same Percy who had come to Bill's office all those months ago. There was a confidence to this Percy that had been lacking in August. More than that, there was an ease to that confidence that Percy had never possessed.

"I think it's time for you to come home," Bill said.

Percy shifted in his chair, picking up his teacup but not taking a sip. "I wish I could."

"You've more than proved yourself, Perce, let me tell Dad and the twins—"

"No," Percy said, and looked Bill in the eye. "That's not what I mean. Perhaps I've earned my way back, but it can't be now. We can't risk bringing even more scrutiny to our actions. As long as I'm estranged from the family I'm just a useless parchment pusher, but the moment it looks like Dad and I are on good terms that is over. They'll be watching me. They'll be watching Dad even more closely than before. What would that mean for the Order of Mercy?"

Dammit, but what Percy said made more sense than Bill cared to admit.

"But there's a war on," Bill said softly. "There may not be time later."

Percy swallowed hard, and pushed his glasses up. "I think we have to do what's best for all of wizarding kind."

Bill cleared his throat. "I was thinking of sending Mary and the baby to Charlie in Romania."

"So far?"

"The change of scenery might do her some good, and the Reserve is a peaceful place."

"If you don't count the presence of towering, fire breathing lizards."

Bill smiled. "Yes, besides the monsters, it's lovely."

"Charlie certainly knows how to care for babies," Percy said, nodding his head. "It does make a certain kind of sense. How long until Mary and the baby can be moved, do you think?"

"It has to be soon, regardless. New Year's, I think. You should come with me. Maybe you can't have a touching family reunion at the Burrow, but you could see Charlie."

All color drained from Percy's face. "Charlie?" he moaned. "He'll punch me in the face."

"Don't worry mate, I'll fix your glasses."

Percy made a strangled noise in his throat, and Bill laughed.

"What's so funny?" Audrey strode into the kitchen with a bright smile.

"I was just telling your—whatever he is—that he should come to Romania with me to take Mary to Charlie," Bill answered.

"Well, actually, he's my boyfriend," Audrey said. She leaned against Percy, and he looped one long arm around her hips. "And I think that is a brilliant plan."

Percy looked up at her, a crease between his brows. "You do?"

"I do," she said, placing a hand on his cheek. "About time, don't you think?"

Percy scowled, heaving a sigh. "Alright, it's decided then I reckon."

Chapter 38

As Fleur stood on the beach, the New Year was six hours old. Finally, 1997 was gone. Despite marrying Bill in that year, Fleur could not say she mourned its passing. She had witnessed her husband grieve for two friends lost to war, feared for his life, watched her wedding explode into violence and chaos. No, she would not miss the year that had passed. What lie ahead of her was unknown, 1998 could well be worse than the year they were leaving, but with dawn more than an hour away, she would pray for peace. It would be enough.

"I feel like we've done this before," Audrey commented at Fleur's side. She was tapping a spoon against her thigh, watching the silhouettes of their men on the beach as they prepared to leave.

Fleur thought back to that morning they sent Catriona Wood into hiding with her baby. It was the morning that the Order of Mercy took its first steps. Now here they were with another mother and son. Taking Audrey's hand, Fleur gave it a squeeze.

"Time to go," Bill said softly, walking over to them. "We'll be back day after tomorrow. Better go say 'bye' to lover boy."

Audrey did not take even a moment to scowl at Bill before rushing over to say her farewells to Percy.

"Stay at Shell Cottage," Bill instructed, wrapping his arms around Fleur. "Don't open the door for anyone. Do you have all you need for the next few days?"

"Do not worry, mon Bill," Fleur murmured, feathering her lips over his scarred flesh. "Audrey will stay wiz me while you are away."

He squeezed her close. "Don't win the war while I'm gone, I want my turn at You-Know-Who."

"Sh!" Fleur rapped his arm. "Zat is not funny!"

Her mind conjured the faces of those she had failed. Ted Tonks, on the run somewhere. Justin Finch-Fletchley, dragged away from Platform 9¾ by Death Eaters. Scores of others. There was only so much a small band of rebels could do.

Bill kissed her. "Happy New Year, Mrs. Weasley."

"Be safe," Fleur whispered. She held him a little tighter until finally Percy called for them to leave. Keeping her hands on him until the last moment, Fleur reminded herself that Bill was only going to Romania. A mountain full of dragons was safer than their seaside home.

oOo

Travel to Romania required two stages. First, the Portkey deposited them on the coast of France where Percy had created a second Portkey that took them onto their final destination. Back to back Portkeys were disorienting. Bill's head was still spinning as his feet met the snow packed ground in the forest near the Andrei Cardei International Dragon Reserve, tucked away in the Carpathian Mountains, and protected by some of the strongest Muggle Repelling Charms Bill had ever seen. It was a massive, sprawling location housing the world's largest collection of dragons. It was also breathtaking, dotted with trees and lakes, reaching up to the sky as if offering its beauty to the gods.

Shaking his head, Bill looked around to see Percy in much the same state he was—on his feet but dizzy. A few yards away was a welcome sight. Charlie, baby cradled against his chest, helping Mary to stand. Bill couldn't help the smile that stretched from his ruined mouth to his eyes. Life and duty may have kept Bill and Charlie on far sides of the world, but it never severed their bond. The moment Bill saw Charlie, it was as if no time had passed.

"Oi, areshole!"

Charlie looked up and grinned. "I'd greet you properly, but I've innocent ears here, git."

The moment they shared came to an end when Charlie's eyes settled just beyond Bill's shoulder. The shorter man's mouth turned down, his brow lowering dangerously over his green eyes. Bill glanced behind him to see Percy fiddling with his glasses and watching Charlie. Bill's two nearest brothers had always had something of a rocky relationship. There were times when they got on famously—usually when Bill was away—but all too often Charlie was annoyed by Percy who was eager to be included with his big brothers. That the two had so little in common didn't seem to work in their favor as it did with Bill and Charlie. And then there was Charlie's temper. He was hardheaded and quick to anger, but quick to forgive, too. Bill was counting on that now.

He wanted Percy to come home. His latest reasons for staying away were valid ones, and hard to argue with. Everyone was in danger, a change in the status quo could be just the thing to tip them all into disaster, but they weren't a family of Gryffindors for nothing, were they? They hadn't been together, all of them, since the Quidditch World Cup, going on four years ago. It was time for that to change. It was time for Percy to be a part of the family, for Bill's blasted little brothers to start getting along like adults.

"C'mon," Charlie said gruffly. "We'll freeze our arses off out here." He turned to Mary. "It's a bit of walk, can you make it?"

Mary nodded. "I think so."

"Tell me if you change your mind. I'll Apparate you back to camp and let these wankers find their own way." Charlie opened the long, dragon-hide coat he wore, tucking the swaddled baby inside, and took Mary's hand to lead her down the path.

oOo

Percy looked around the cramped cabin. He'd never visited Charlie in Romania before, it had never even crossed his mind, honestly. Now, however, he was rampantly curious about the place Charlie lived. It was sparse but homely with family pictures on the walls and stacks of dragon books on the coffee table. Percy picked up some magazines and chuckled. Girly magazines, too.

"Ah," Bill said when Percy showed him. "I can see that Charlie's reading preferences have changed little since our Hogwarts days."

"I used to knick his Playwizards out of his dorm during my fourth year," Percy admitted. "It was Oliver's idea. He figured it was safer to steal from Charlie than Fergus."

"That was you?" Charlie emerged from the bedroom, his muscular arms crossed over a broad chest. He was glowering at Percy, and not over his lost pornography.

Percy had known facing Charlie would be a trial, but it couldn't be avoided if he ever wished to return to his family. Someday. That date seemed to hover in the distance, constantly moving out of reach like a bad dream. Only he wasn't dreaming, he was in a mess of his own making and so he must submit himself to the whims of time.

That didn't mean it was easy for Percy to do. Frustration filled him as he stared into Charlie's enraged face. Percy knew he should be humble, ask for his brother's forgiveness, but he just wanted to get this whole thing over with.

"Alright," Percy bit off. He tossed the magazine onto the sofa and whipped off his glasses. "Let's get this over with. If you could just give me a black eye and not bust my nose, I would be grateful."

Charlie was a blurry red and copper shape, but Percy could tell that he had moved towards his little brother. "Gladly. Let's just step outside."

"Knock it off!" Bill cuffed Percy against the back of his head. "Put your glasses back on. Charlie is keeping his fist to himself this time around."

"After what he said?" Charlie bellowed. "What he's done?"

"You weren't even there," Bill shot back. "You're just going to take the twins' account for the truth. As if they aren't a bit biased."

"It was pretty awful," Percy admitted.

Both older brothers looked at Percy, Charlie jerking a hand in Percy's direction.

"I was…well, I was a prick," Percy continued, shoving his glasses on and looking at the ground. "An ungrateful prick, actually."

"See!" Charlie said.

"That's not the point," Bill grit out.

"It is though, isn't it?" Percy asked.

"See!" Charlie agreed.

"Unless you actually have something constructive to add, shut it, Charlie," Bill growled.

"How did you think this would work, Bill?" Percy asked, turning to his eldest brother. "Charlie would hug me and say how much he missed me?"

"Don't bloody well think so," Charlie muttered, crossing his arms again.

"First of all, Charlie and I do not hug," Percy pressed on.

"Agreed." Charlie nodded.

"And secondly, it shouldn't be that easy. I don't want it to be. I said horrible things to our father, I have hurt our mother repeatedly, and I walked out. I need to make amends, and if Charlie feels as though he needs to punch me in the face…well, so be it."

"You were always a realist," Charlie said, cracking a grin. "It's what I liked best about you. Unlike William. He always thought being oldest gave him the divine right to fix everything with a snap of his fingers."

Percy smirked. "Yes, well, it is a serious character defect."

"He's never really had to work for anything. He could always count on being brilliant and charming."

"He does have a tendency to be insufferable."

"Aren't you two precious," Bill said dryly, bracing his hands on his hips and glaring at his younger brothers.

Percy and Charlie laughed, the older of the two moving to the kitchen. Relief washed through Percy. He thought maybe, if he were very lucky, the worst of it was past him, and it hadn't been nearly as difficult as he had feared. For the first time since he took Scrimgeour to the Burrow last Christmas, Percy had a glimmer of hope that he truly could have his family back. Though, he had to admit, Charlie wouldn't be the most difficult brother to win over. He hadn't been there that night when Percy yelled those horrible things at their father, nor was Charlie the type to hold a grudge. No, the twins and Ron were much less likely to forgive Percy, and he couldn't blame them. He'd let his little brothers and Ginny down.

Glancing at Bill, Percy allowed a small smile. He suspected that Bill was hoping for just this result when he invited Percy along on this trip. Well, Bill was right as usual. Annoying really.

"How does Butterbeer sound?" Charlie called from the kitchen. "Or something stronger?"

"Shouldn't we stay sober?" Percy said. "In case Mary needs help with the baby."

"Always the responsible one," Charlie said. "You stay sober, Bill and I will get pissed. It'll make forgiving you easier."

"On second thought, I'd like something stronger," Percy said. Under no circumstances was being the sober brother to Bill and Charlie's drunkenness a good idea.

"Good man." Charlie grinned and poured three tumblers of Firewhisky.

oOo

"When was the last time the three of us got drunk together?" Charlie asked. He was tipped back in his chair with a mug full of Firewhisky propped on his chest.

"Augusht 1994," Percy slurred, holding one wavering finger in the air. "It wa-wash the day after you got home for the Qui-Quid…the World Cup."

They were sat at Charlie's small kitchen table. It was a piece of furniture that had seen better days. It bore a scorch mark, more scratches than Bill could count, and one of its legs was shorter than the rest and propped up on more girly magazines. Bill stared down at a witch who kept pushing her bosom up with her hands and winking at him. Merlin, Charlie was a bachelor. Maybe bringing Mary and the baby here was a bad idea after all.

"We went out with the Woods," Charlie muttered, his chin sinking onto his chest.

Bill glared at his second brother. Charlie was a sentimental drunk, if they didn't change the subject fast he would start crying like a bloody little girl. The last thing Bill wanted to do at that moment was sit in Romania with his brothers and cry over the loss of their friends. Time to sacrifice Percy for the cause.

Slapping Percy on the back, Bill smirked at Charlie. "Guess who has a girlfriend?"

"Ah, did ickle Percykins finally find a girl who would shag him? Good on you, mate, you had to part with your virginity one day."

"Audrey did not take my virginity." Percy swelled up, his head held precariously high, then hiccoughed.

The older brothers dissolved into laughter, which was cut short by the baby's cries. Charlie's chair legs banged against the floor as he stood to retrieve the child from the bedroom. Bill busied himself with preparing a bottle.

"Where's Mary?" Bill asked when Charlie emerged from the other room with only the baby cradled in his thick arms.

"Why wake her?" Charlie replied with a shrug. He was already pulling the blankets loose. "One of you give me a refresher course on how to change a nappy, yeah?"

Percy cleared the table with his wand, and the two men lay the baby and all his supplies across the top.

"We're going to have get you some clothes, little man," Charlie cooed, he stroked the back of the baby's hand with one broad finger, and the child latched on. "And probably some more nappies, too."

The baby was looking up at Charlie, whose face was pressed close.

"My father-in-law has an account to cover refugee expenses," Bill said. "I'll see if I can get you some blunt to cover Mary and the baby's stay."

Charlie shrugged and scooped the baby up after his nappy was changed. "Don't worry about it. I'm glad to do my part—Merlin knows I've done little else for this damned war."

"Dumbledore gave you a job and—"

"Shove it, Bill," Charlie said. Despite the inherent harshness of his words, Charlie's voice was mellow. He took the bottle from Bill and put it to the baby's mouth. "I've done less to help in the fight against You-Know-Who than Percy."

Percy glared at Charlie. For a moment, Bill waited for the inevitable blow up. The words were more than unfair, which was the point. Charlie was just taking a dig at their little brother, a little jab so that Percy would know that not all was forgiven. Instead of defending himself, Percy slammed his chair in and stalked to the couch, throwing himself against the cushions.

"Don't be an arsehole," Bill muttered. "Percy's risked his life these last months."

"The way you've done for the last several years?" Charlie shot back. "You nearly died, Bill. Hell, Dougal and Fergus did."

"You've been hiding Muggle-borns along the Romanian mountainside since August, and who do you think is responsible for their escape from persecution," Bill said. "There would be no Order of Mercy if Percy didn't risk his life to bring Fleur the names."

Bill's hands strangled the back of the kitchen chair, his knuckles white with strain. He stared from one brother to the other, but neither spoke. In fact, they were resolutely not looking at each other or Bill. Fury was like bile in Bill's gullet. Charlie may not have hit Percy with his fist, but he'd certainly aimed a blow at their younger brother where it counted. But Bill was equally pissed at Percy for refusing to defend himself. Maybe Percy felt he had it coming, but he was never going to win back his brothers' trust or regard by rolling over and playing the whipping boy.

"That true, mate?" Charlie asked quietly, his eyes trained on the suckling baby.

Percy looked up. "Yes."

"You got some bollocks."

"Cheers."

"Now move," Charlie said, shoving Percy off the sofa. The older brother kicked off his boots and reclined against the cushions, the now sleeping baby across his chest.

"What are you doing?" Bill asked.

"Going to bed. You wankers can have the floor."

"Shouldn't you put the baby back with his mother?"

"Nah, he can stay with me," Charlie replied and kissed the top of the baby's head. "We've got to find you a name, little man."

"Charlie, the baby won't be here forever, maybe you shouldn't start any bad habits like letting him sleep on your chest," Percy said, fiddling with his glasses.

"Just for tonight," Charlie said. He waved his wand, and the lights dimmed.

Bill and Percy exchanged exasperated looks in the semi-darkness.

oOo

Percy was awakened by a strong finger poking him in the face. Inhaling deeply through his nose, Percy lie very still and willed his brother to quit being a bloody git. Not that it worked. It never worked. As far as Percy was concerned, he was related to the greatest lot of prats on Earth. Finally, Percy snatched the finger and bent it backwards until he heard Charlie yelp.

"You wanted something?" Percy asked.

"We really pissed off Bill, huh?"

Everything about the cabin was cramped. With Charlie on the sofa and the coffee table pushed against the wall, there wasn't much room for two men above six foot two to spread out on the floor. Bill had taken the spot nearest the fire, turning his back on his brothers and tossing a vulgar hand gesture at them. That left the spot next to Charlie for Percy, which was just what Bill had planned no doubt.

"He deluded himself into thinking we would kiss and make up," Percy said. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Did you wake me up for a little gossip session?"

"Nah, little man is getting restless," Charlie replied. "I reckon he'll need a bottle again soon."

"You should wake Mary."

Charlie hummed noncommittally. "So, everything Bill said about you is true?"

"Yes." Percy dragged the word out. He didn't want Charlie to think he was boasting. He didn't want to be that person anymore.

"Why did you do it?" Charlie asked.

"Well, it's about time I did the right thing, isn't it?"

"No. I meant why did you walk out."

Percy glanced up at the couch, but even if it wasn't dark, he didn't have his glasses on. Everything was a dark, blurry shape, yet he imagined that Charlie was looking down at him, taking his measure. Percy was filled with the need to live up to his older brother's expectations. That need was a suffocating force that expanded in his chest until it hurt to breathe.

Clearing his throat and pounding his sternum, Percy tried to find the right words.

"I know you and Bill…I know none of you understand it, but working at the Ministry, moving my way up to a position of power, it was all I wanted. I was as driven as you are by your dragons. I got that position in the Department of International Magical Cooperation, it was small but with loads of potential. I thought—I really thought that I was proving myself indispensible…and then everything blew up. There was talk of sending me to Azkaban for Merlin's sake."

"You were scared," Charlie said quietly.

Percy folded his hands over his chest. "Yes. Scared and humiliated. Fudge's offer felt like a lifeline. I thought-I thought…I wanted Dad to be proud."

"But he wasn't."

"Not by a long shot. I was furious." Percy's eyes stung with unshed tears. He took a deep breath to try to rein in his emotions. He just wanted to own his mistakes and move on, the time for crying was over. Besides, Charlie was the last person Percy wanted to see him cry.

"And what's kept you away all these years?" Charlie asked, his voice bland. He was asking a simple question, and though Percy searched for it, there was no extra emotion packed into his words. No recrimination or accusation, just an opportunity to explain himself.

"Pride. Stubbornness," Percy answered. He sighed, and added, "I didn't feel I deserved their forgiveness. That's the real reason I help the Order of Mercy. Pretty selfish, huh?"

"I don't know, Perce, you're doing a hell of a lot of good at the risk of your own life. Maybe all of this had a purpose. Think, if you had listened to Dad in the beginning you wouldn't be in a position to help the Muggle-borns."

The room was dark but for the dying embers of the fireplace. All Percy could make out above him was blackness, but it provided the correct amount of contemplation. Charlie's words played in Percy's mind over and over. He'd never thought of it that way before. That something good could have come from this separation from his family and everything that happened with Penelope. He had never quite connected the dots on how one thing led to another, but now it seemed obvious. Furthermore, Percy liked the person he was just beginning to grow into. Would Percy be the man he was now if it hadn't been for all his missteps and failures? He couldn't help but feel the answer was no. If Percy hadn't turned his back on his family, if he hadn't been shown a fool time and again, he would still be that insufferable parchment pusher who had first joined the Ministry. Would Oliver have stuck around for that? Would Audrey have ever flirted with such a stuck-up prick?

Percy regretted the things he said to his father, he regretted how things ended with Penelope, he could not regret the man he was becoming.

"What are you doing?" Percy asked.

Charlie was sitting up, his bare feet close to Percy's face. "I'm going to change him and give him a bottle. Go back to sleep."

"Really, Charlie, I think you should wake Mary. She's having a hard time bonding with the baby."

Charlie hummed deep in his throat. "We see that sometimes with the dragons, poor woman. 'Course the dragons usually eat their young when they've failed to bond."

"Well, let's hope it doesn't come to that," Percy replied dryly.

Their conversation ended when the bedroom door opened and a female figure padded out.

"Go back to sleep," Charlie whispered, nudging Percy with his big toe.

Percy resisted the urge to stab his big brother in the foot with his wand.

A lone candle flared to life. Rolling onto his stomach, Percy put his glasses on and watched Charlie talking to Mary. Her arms were wrapped tightly around herself, looking up at Charlie and nodding every few words. Once again, Charlie turned his dinner table into a changing table, the baby squawking indignantly at having his bits exposed to the cold world.

"Have you thought of a name?" Charlie asked.

Mary was fiddling with her wedding ring. "I should name him Michael, after his father, but…it doesn't feel right."

"Having your father's name is a lot of pressure, probably for the best," Charlie reassured. "What about Pax? It's Latin for 'peace'."

It was also the Roman goddess of peace. Percy wondered if he should pipe up with that information. After all, the baby may not like being named for a goddess one day, but Percy held his counsel. Naming the baby Pax, it was like saying a prayer. One small hope for what could be.

"Peace?" Mary looked at the baby. "I like that. Pax Michael Lathrop."

Charlie finished the nappy and placed the baby in Mary's arms. Even in the dim light, from Percy's perspective on the floor, Mary looked awkward. Actually, she looked as if she'd been handed a dragon rather than her own baby. The little guy knew it, too, squirming and fussing. However, Charlie seemed unfazed, gently pushing mother and child into a chair before fixing the bottle.

"You know," Charlie said. He squatted before Mary, bottle in hand. "If you put his body against yours, skin to skin, he'll settle right down."

"Skin to skin?" Mary looked down at her woolly cardigan then, slowly, unbuttoned the top three before fitting Pax against her chest. Just as Charlie had promised, the baby pressed a hand against his mother's breast and melded into her. "How-how do you know so much about babies?"

"They aren't so different from all the baby critters I used to hide in my room when I was a kid."

Mary took the bottle from Charlie, a tentative smile on her face. "Your mother must have loved that."

"You've no idea!" Charlie chuckled.

oOo

The war ground on through those early months of 1998 without relief in sight. Just as the Order of Mercy resumed their efforts, so did the Muggle-born Registration Commission. It was like a Muggle factory, churning endlessly, polluting the air with its belching smokestacks, grinding out its commodity of fear and rumors. In opposition was a small band of witches and wizards. Too small, really.

Everyday, families went missing. Before the month of January concluded, the inevitable happened. Death Eaters attacked Xenophilius Lovegood in his home. It was only once students returned to Hogwarts that it was discovered the man's daughter was kidnapped. No one could quite piece together the events that led up to Luna Lovegood's disappearance. Her father hadn't reported it, but the kidnapping was assumed to have happened over Christmas holidays. McGonagall was the one to alert the Order of the Phoenix, regretfully adding that the pupils were keeping mum on the subject. It was another reminder that no one was safe, not even school children, and especially not those who fought against dark magic.

Meanwhile, Diagon Alley was a ghost town as even old Tom shuddered the Leaky Cauldron, leaving the twins as the last shopkeepers, besides Gringotts, reckless enough to keep their doors open. Never let it be said that goblins could be terrorized out of doing their job. Hogsmeade was little more than a prison where residents dreaded leaving their homes. The previous autumn may have been marked by confusion and disbelief, but the austere winter left no doubts except for one.

Where was Harry Potter?

Deaths and disappearances were announced daily on Potterwatch, but Harry Potter's whereabouts were a mystery. Fred and George urged the public to keep hope, but in February when the Order of Mercy failed to keep some of their own family safe, hope seemed elusive. The Spinnets were gone in a night. Two generations of the family, leaving Alicia alone.

It was with the promise of spring at their fingertips that Percy came across a familiar face in Umbridge's files. Long after the woman had left for the day, Percy knelt by her desk, duplicating her files, when blue eyes he knew too well blinked up at him from a photograph Spellotaped to the folio. He swallowed harshly, staring at it for longer than he should. Why hadn't he considered what danger she was in sooner?

Penelope Clearwater was invited to testify before the Muggle-born Registration Commission on suspicion of theft of magic.

Chapter 39

Audrey checked her watch again, then stared at the door as if that would make Percy magically walk through it. She should have left for Dover twenty minutes ago. There was a rundown church along the cliffs that the Order of Mercy had been using as a meeting place for the last three days. They'd have to abandon it soon, but it provided some comfort in these last cold nights of winter.

Where could Percy be? Since his return from Romania, Percy had been growing bolder and bolder in his cause to save the Muggle-borns. Nearly every night, after the Ministry closed, he skulked through the offices of that awful pink cow, gathering information. It was too often, and Audrey had told him so, he was going to get himself caught. Regardless, he was always home in time to see Audrey off for her mission. She didn't have to check her watch again to know that she couldn't wait a moment more. Pulling her battered, enchanted notebook from her pocket, Audrey was just about to scribble a note to Fleur—maybe Bill could search for Percy—when the door opened.

"There you are!" Audrey threw her arms around him. "Where have you been?"

"I-I didn't think I would see you before you left," Percy mumbled against her hair. His hands shook as he grasped her waist.

"What's wrong?"

Pulling back slightly to see him better, Audrey saw that Percy's coppery freckles stood out starkly against his pale face. She fussed with the buckles and ties of his cloak, desperate to see what lie underneath. The enchanted notebook flared to life in her pocket, burning hot to gain her attention, but Audrey ignored it, cursing her trembling hands for their uselessness.

"Were you caught?" she asked, her words coming out so quickly that they stumbled over each other. "Did anybody follow you? Where are you hurt?"

"What?" Percy smoothed one hand over her hair. "No, I'm not—No."

Audrey looked up at him. "What's wrong?"

"It's…." Percy swallowed harshly, fiddling with his glasses. "It's Penny."

"Penny?"

Realization like a million tiny cuts came over Audrey. Her panic leeched away, her frantic hands curling claw-like in the front of his robes. The notebook was burning hot in her pocket again, but Audrey couldn't tear her eyes away from Percy's ashen face. Would he look this distraught if she were in danger?

Audrey dropped her hands, shame stung. What an unworthy thought! They were in the middle of a war, no room for petty jealousies. There wasn't a competition between Audrey and Penelope Clearwater to see who could be the better damsel in distress, or which one Percy would save first. Still, Audrey struggled to ask the next question, the one that would reveal Penelope's fate. Was Audrey afraid to find out that the other girl was dead, or afraid to find out that she wouldn't be all that sorry?

"She's being called before the Commission," Percy said in a low voice.

Audrey blinked, then touched the tiny terrarium hidden under her black turtleneck. "Is that all?"

"What?" Percy gave her a strange, wide-eyed look.

"No, that's not what I meant." Audrey shook her head, feeling the notebook burn in her pocket for a third time. She couldn't delay leaving for another moment. Merlin, Fleur was likely to hex Audrey at this rate. "Percy, I have to go."

"Yes, of course."

Audrey grabbed her woolen cloak, spelled black for her nighttime missions. "Don't do anything stupid until I get home, Gryffindor."

"Of course not."

Before leaving, Audrey stood on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss against Percy's mouth, feeling more grateful than lustful when he responded. Then it was a race down the stairs and into the adjoining alley where she could Disapparate without being seen. Within moments, she stood in the Muggle chapel. Three of its rock walls were moldering and vine covered, the fourth had a hole blasted through it, the building's stained glass windows long blown out and their colorful shards lost to time and scavengers. There were no wooden pews or pulpits, just a dais where the vicar once stood extolling the grace of God, or maybe warning of the torments of Hell. Audrey stood there now, only moments before Angelina and Oliver came with their charges, and forced herself not to think about Percy, or Penelope Clearwater.

oOo

"Fred, George, any word on when Potterwatch will be broadcasting again?"

Kingsley Shacklebolt stood at the head of the Weasley dinner table. Only a handful of Order of the Phoenix members sat in the chairs lining the table, and most of those actual Weasleys. This was only the second formal meeting the Order had conducted since their leader went on the run back in October. The kind of organization and secrecy needed to plan a gathering took away from other, more important undertakings. Bill sat between his father and Remus, full from the customary pre-meeting dinner his mother insisted on cooking. Glancing up, Bill concentrated on his twin brothers sitting across the table from him.

"Hard to say," Fred answered.

"We've got two problems," George chimed in. "First, Lee is being tracked after the last show."

"Having trouble locating a safe place to broadcast from."

Potterwatch last aired two weeks ago. Halfway through the show, it was suddenly cut off. Death Eaters had invaded the house where Lee Jordan, the twins, and their guests were broadcasting. Jordan was nearly caught trying to save his equipment before Disapparating.

Kingsley hummed. "Remus, can you find a safe house for the boys? Morale is low these days; we need to have a voice out there reminding people to keep up the fight. What's the other problem?"

"Lee's got his head so far up Alicia's arse he can hardly breath," Fred muttered.

"Fred," Dad admonished.

George was blushing. "Sorry, Dad. It's just that Lee has hardly left Alicia's side since her parents were murdered. He's lost focus a bit."

"The wanker won't even talk about Potterwatch," Fred grumbled.

Bill grimaced at the mention of the Spinnets. The Order of Mercy had spent an entire night trying to get the family to leave the country, only to be too late. Fleur had been stunned by the loss, but she wasn't the only one. As word leaked out about the deaths, the entire community lost another shard of faith. Hope was getting harder and harder to find in these dark times.

"It's admirable that Mr. Jordan wishes to console his friend," Kingsley said diplomatically. The second part was left unsaid: Lee needed to get his head in the game. Kingsley clapped his hands together. "Alright. I think we've imposed on Mrs. Weasley's hospitality long enough. Does anybody have anything to add?"

The dozen witches and wizards remained silent.

"Excellent. Then I bid you goodnight, and keep safe. Uh, Bill, I'd like a word before you leave."

Bill nodded and stood from his chair, following Kingsley into the sitting room. "What can I do for you?"

Kingsley faced Bill. "I would like an update on your wife's activities."

"My wife's…." Bill wasn't going to insult Kingsley by acting dumb. It was no surprise that the Auror-in-exile knew about the Order of Mercy, nor that he kept that knowledge to himself. "Well, you must know that the Spinnet mess was our disaster."

"As I understand it, you did all you could. Harold Spinnet was a stubborn man, but I can hardly hold that against him. Still, Fleur's seen plenty of success."

"On a small scale," Bill allowed. "For every person they save, another two are thrown into Azkaban or gone on the run."

"Without Harry Potter, we have to hold fast to these small victories, Bill," Kingsley advised. "I would like to do something…noticeable. Something that will boost morale."

"How does Fleur figure into that?" Bill asked. He didn't like the direction of this conversation. Secrecy was paramount to the Order of Mercy's work—without it, they could do nothing. That spoke nothing of the danger Fleur and Percy would be in if their secret was blown.

"I don't know," Kingsley admitted. "If an opportunity presents itself, don't hesitate to contact me."

Grudgingly, Bill nodded. He would contact Kingsley, of that Bill had no doubt.

oOo

This night, like nearly every cripplingly cold night since January, Audrey had a purpose. She wasn't some underperforming student, or the girl too eccentric for even the Ravenclaws, or her parents' unwanted child. On this night, like so many others, she would lay Fleur's silverware into a neat line, pluck up a utensil, and turn it into a vehicle of salvation. Not from the torments of hell, but from those horrors created by man out of his fear of death and anonymity. What Audrey refused do was perform her task while worrying that her boyfriend was still in love with his ex-girlfriend.

When did she allow herself to become this person?

A series of green and gold sparks—the colors of the Holyhead Harpies—announced the arrival of Angelina Johnson. Audrey answered with her own blue and bronze sparks, then picked up a salad fork and murmured the incantation that turned it from an innocuous object into a Portkey. Soon, the tall black girl shepherded a family of five into the sanctuary. The mother was crying, clutching a small child to her chest; the other two children were about the same age as Audrey's nieces and clung to their father's hands. Swiftly recording their names and destination in the enchanted notebook for Fleur, Audrey gave last minute instructions on Portkey safety, then watched as the family spun out of sight, leaving just the two women standing in the chapel.

"How are you?" Audrey asked Angelina.

"My hair looks like shite, I haven't seen one of my best friends in so many months I'm beginning to forget what her voice sounds like, and the other one is grief-stricken on my sofa at home. Otherwise, peachy."

Audrey snorted. "It will all be over soon, right?"

"Keep telling yourself that, maybe it will come true."

Sparks in Puddlemere United's colors burst into the air.

"That'll be Oliver," Angelina said. "Back to work. Stay safe."

A few hours later found Audrey trembling from the cold inside her black cloak as she watched the last of that night's refugees disappear. Beside her was the hulking and impenetrable form of Oliver Wood. Five more Muggle-borns and their families saved from the Commission. The night the Spinnets died, it had been Oliver that came to Audrey with the news. He'd been bloodied and battered from curses, his face gray with shock, and all he could say was that they failed. Audrey had been awaiting him in another abandoned and crumbling building much like the church they were in at that moment.

Four people died that night. Alicia's parents and grandparents, who had stubbornly refused to flee sooner and had paid for it with their lives. Their deaths had been the Order of Mercy's first true failure. Audrey had been sick with the knowledge that they had saved so many only to lose people who were important to one of their own.

Now, Oliver was tugging on Audrey's elbow, saying, "C'mon, I'll walk you to the Disapparation spot."

She pulled her arm free, looking up at the overgrown Quidditch player. "Oliver…what did Penelope Clearwater…did Percy love her?"

"I reckon." Oliver shoved his hands in his coat pockets, rocking back on his heels. "She was his first love. He talked about marrying her."

Audrey blinked. This was news to her. She didn't know how she felt about this information. Honestly, it was all in the past. It shouldn't matter that Percy was once in love Penelope Clearwater. Unless he still was.

"Don't get me wrong," Oliver said quickly, his eyes going wide. "Percy wanted to marry her because he was a prat, not because it was a good idea. And it ended badly. Bloody hell, I should really keep my gob shut."

"That-that's okay." Audrey rubbed Percy's terrarium where it was hidden under several layers of clothing.

"Let's go before I say some more stupid shite," Oliver grumbled, taking Audrey by the arm and leading her into the nearby graveyard to Disapparate.

Only Audrey didn't return to Percy's flat right away, instead she took a detour to Shell Cottage. They did the whole identification song and dance that was growing tedious at this point in the war. Once inside Fleur's kitchen, Audrey faced up to her tall, severe-looking, blonde friend.

"Where were you?" Fleur demanded, arms crossed, lips pursed.

"Percy was late coming home," Audrey said, though she felt perfectly lame as the words came out of her mouth.

Fleur softened, however, the corners of her mouth twitched. "Is he well?"

"Yes. Do you have wine?"

"Mais oui!" Fleur pulled a red from the cupboard with two glasses, motioning for Audrey to sit at the table. "It is appallingly cheap. Now, did you quarrel?"

"No," Audrey said, taking a long drink of the liquor that tasted perfectly adequate to her. Especially if the goal was to get drunk. "His ex-girlfriend is being called before the Commission. He-he looked like his puppy died, Fleur."

Fleur placed her hand on top of Audrey's. "She was somebody he cared about, but zat is in zee past."

"I know."

It was galling to admit, but some of Audrey's jealousy stemmed from his ex being Penelope Clearwater, Queen of the Common Room. Who was Audrey kidding? It was galling just to admit she was jealous at all, but that it was Penelope was especially lowering. Penelope was a year ahead of Audrey, but everybody knew the pretty Muggle-born. She was the type whose curly hair was always shiny, adorned by a blue and bronze ribbon that on second look was actually one of her school ties. The kind of girl that other girls wanted to be like and the boys wanted to be with, but Penelope only surrounded herself with people who were like her. Those who strived for good grades and looked pretty doing it. Anyone who failed to live up to those standards was shunted to the edges of the common room, gazing into a world they were shut out of.

"A few months ago," Audrey started, "I was trying to push Percy away, and now I am scared of losing him. I hate this."

"Ma chère, do not be silly."

Audrey glared at her friend. "You know, calling me silly does not make me feel better."

Fleur laughed. "Go home to Percy, silly, and you will see."

oOo

After Audrey had left, Percy Summoned the boxes from the back of his clothes press and carefully unpacked them until he found the old teddy bear. Why was it that the gift he never gave Penelope had become the one that symbolized their relationship? For the first time, Percy wondered if he'd been unfair to Penelope.

Just that quickly, Percy returned the box, and its contents, to the back of the clothes press. He hung up his robes, put on his pajamas, and lie down in his bed to stare up at the ceiling. He doubted very much that sleep would come, and the long hours that stretched before his eyes were proof of that.

Percy found himself remembering the fun times with Penelope. The shy glances they had exchanged at Prefect meetings, his clumsy attempts at flirtation, her coy smiles. Snogging in abandoned classrooms. Losing their virginities in the Prefects' Bathroom. The endless talk of their perfect future. They never spoke of children, but Percy had taken that for granted. He didn't want a family the size of his parents—still didn't—but he'd always assumed children were part of the bargain. Had Penelope thought otherwise?

For the first time since that awful night, Percy found himself wishing he had stayed and listened to Penelope. He didn't think it would change anything, Percy honestly couldn't see how the two of them could go on after the abortion. Now he wondered if he was the ghost who haunted Penelope's dreams as she had his. Maybe he had been as unfair to her as she had been to him.

The night ground on. Too soon his alarm would signal it was time to start another day, but Percy wasn't even in his bed. As two a.m. came and went, he found himself in his sitting room wondering where Audrey could be. It was rare for her to be on a mission this late, certainly there wasn't a long list of Muggle-borns scheduled to leave on this night. Percy found himself pacing back and forth, clutching the enchanted notebook that remained stubbornly blank, and imagining every type of disaster possible.

When the door finally opened, Percy's breath left him in a whoosh. Audrey barely stepped one foot in the door before Percy scooped up her small body, banging the door shut with his foot. Relief washed through Percy when Audrey's arms circled his neck.

"What are you doing?" she demanded.

"Where have you been?" Percy countered.

"I stopped at Shell Cottage."

"I've been so worried."

"Then we're even."

For a long moment, the two of them stared at each other. In the fog of shock he'd felt after seeing Penelope's name in Umbridge's desk, Percy hadn't registered how worried Audrey had been for him. It was clearer in retrospect, as was so often the case. Gently, he kissed her mouth.

"I'm sorry," Percy murmured.

"I wish you would take less risks," Audrey said. "Maybe you Gryffindors have nerves of steel that allow you to watch a loved one risk their lives, but I'm not made of the same stuff."

Percy tightened his arms around Audrey, forcing her head against his shoulder and whispering against her ear, "I like the stuff you're made of."

"Let's go to bed, Gryffindor, I'm knackered."

A few minutes later, Percy was spooned around Audrey, inhaling her flowery shampoo. For the first time all night, his body relaxed and his eyelids felt heavy. Audrey's slight weight beside him, the curve of her bum as it fit into the hollow of his body, the thump of her heart under his hand as he held her. This is what he had been missing.

"Do you want to talk?" Percy asked softly.

"Tomorrow. You can call in sick to the blasted Ministry. We'll talk after we've had a good night's rest."

Chapter 40

Notes:

Warnings: This chapter contains conversations of a sensitive nature.

Standing in his shadowy sitting room, Percy knotted his tie. The first rays of sunlight were peeking in the window, reminding Percy that he was due at the Ministry. Even more than usual, Percy wasn't looking forward to going into work. He was so tired, he could feel how swollen the skin was under his eyes. Still, he'd forced himself out of bed when his alarm sounded, forced himself away from the comfort and warmth of Audrey's body. He knew she wanted him to stay home so they could talk about Penelope, but he couldn't. In just under four years of employment, Percy had called in sick a grand total of twice. This was no time to bring attention to himself by acting out of character.

Walking quietly back to the bedroom, Percy sat gingerly on the mattress beside Audrey. She was still fast asleep, the rumpled waves of her hair falling across her cheek. His hands tightened with the urge to tuck her hair behind her ear, but he didn't, not yet. He wanted a few moments just to look at her. A part of him was glad to go off to work, to put off the conversation he knew was coming. They would have to talk about Penelope. Would Percy tell Audrey why that relationship ended? There was still a tightness in his chest at the thought of speaking aloud those awful words: Penny was pregnant, and she had an abortion. How would Audrey react? What would she think of him? Would she finally see him for the massive failure that he was?

A few months ago, Percy had asked Audrey to trust him to always be there to take care of her. Would she see all of that as a lie? He'd failed in taking care of Ginny, and she'd been possessed by a bloody diary. He'd failed spectacularly with Penelope, and look at the cost. Would Audrey realize that for all his promises, Percy was just one more man who couldn't look after her? He wanted so badly to show her that he was different, that she deserved better than a string of arseholes, but it seemed all too likely that he would be the one who let her down the hardest.

Pushing back her hair with trembling fingers, Percy whispered her name. Slowly, Audrey's eyes blinked open. For a moment, she stared unseeingly up at him.

"What time is it?" Audrey asked in a groggy voice.

"Early." Percy was surprised by the sturdiness of his own voice.

She started to sit up, but Percy stayed her with a hand on her shoulder.

"Don't get up," he murmured.

"Why are you dressed?" Audrey snuggled down into the blankets again. "I thought you were going to stay home with me today."

"I can't risk anybody in the Minister's office asking questions."

Audrey's mouth thinned into a taut line.

"No extracurricular activities tonight, however," Percy assured her. "I'll come straight home."

"Take a Nosebleed Nougat, come home early."

"We'll see," he chuckled, and bent to kiss her goodbye, but Audrey grabbed his lapel at the last moment.

"Percy, I…. Be safe," she said.

Percy's face hovered inches from Audrey, his arms braced on either side of her. Even in the darkness of his room, he could make out her big eyes staring up at him, the way that she bit her lip. Had she been about to say something different? Or was that wishful thinking? Percy wouldn't press her, how could he? More than likely he would prove himself a massive disappointment in a few hours' time. No point in compounding her heartbreak.

Or his.

"Always," he said. He kissed her again, taking his time, memorizing the feel of her lips against his and the taste of her mouth as he explored it with his tongue. Finally, he forced himself to pull away, to stand up and straighten his robes. "See you tonight."

oOo

Audrey did not go back to sleep after Percy left. Instead, she lay there, in the dark, and listened to Percy's soft footsteps as he walked through the flat, then the click of the door closing. She was alone.

Sitting up, pushing her hair out of her face, Audrey stared at the bedroom door, though she wasn't sure what she expected to happen. Percy wasn't coming back anytime soon. Self-pity threatened to pull her down. Audrey's traitorous mind kept straying to painful thoughts. Like how she'd let her guard down, despite her better judgment, and let herself care for this man. How he had wormed his way past her defenses with his persistence and kindness, and now she was going to be hurt. Thrown over for the Damsel in Distress.

It was all so distasteful. Audrey was utterly disgusted with herself for such melodramatic thoughts. Percy and Penelope were over with long ago—ages before Audrey came into the picture. The idea that Percy would drop her, Audrey, for that other girl was ridiculous. Audrey knew that, she did. It didn't stop the crushing weight in her chest from suffocating her.

Penelope Clearwater was all of the things Audrey Sprayberry never was.

It was hard to decide which was more lowering: that she was such a mess over a man, or that the specter of the most popular girl in Ravenclaw could still make Audrey feel so utterly lacking. It was school all over again, where she never measured up.

No matter how stupid it was, Audrey couldn't help wondering what Percy wanted with her in comparison to the perfect Penelope Clearwater. On some level, Audrey knew she was so much more than the lonely Ravenclaw she once was, but she still felt young and foolish sometimes. As if she would never have it together.

Scrubbing her eyes—and pretending the tears there were the result of hay fever—Audrey forced herself out of bed. She had a busy day of Saving Penelope Clearwater ahead of her, no point in putting it off.

Tea and toast helped to shore up Audrey's resolve. One thing she knew for sure—she needed to have this over quickly. First, she needed checklists, maybe a few missives dashed off to Fleur, probably enlist Oliver's help in staking out Penelope's address. Check that, she needed to see Fleur first and foremost.

"Did I disturb your mid-morning nap?" Audrey asked as she walked into the kitchen at Shell Cottage.

Fleur sniffed. "Veela do not nap."

"It never ceases to amaze me the number of things Veela do not do that you are blatantly guilty of."

"I see your sense of humor has not suffered for the ridiculous hour."

The two women looked at each other for a moment before slipping into sly grins. Fleur put on the kettle while Audrey spread her lists across the butcher's block. She narrowed her mind to the task at hand, stuffing her worries to the back. Still, it was good to see Fleur, who made Audrey feel understood.

"What did Percy say about zis Penelope?" Fleur asked as she prepared the teapot.

Audrey shrugged. "We haven't exactly talked about it."

Fleur frowned. For a moment, it looked like she wanted to argue with Audrey, but decided against it. The kettle whistled, and Fleur poured the steaming water over the tealeaves into the pot. There was always something soothing in the familiar act of making tea. For those few moments, there was no need to think about anything other than the task at hand. As Audrey watched Fleur dump spoonfuls of sugar into a cup, she was given a reprieve from her worries.

"You have a plan," Fleur said. She nodded at Audrey's notes as she passed over the steaming teacup.

"Yes. I don't want to waste any time in rescuing Penelope—we don't need another Spinnet incident."

The sentence came to an abrupt halt, and Audrey had to look away. That night still hung heavily over the Order of Mercy as proof of their limitations. As usual, it was Percy who had first seen the Spinnets' names on the Commission's invitation list, just days before the actual summons was issued. At first, Fleur was livid that Alicia had never asked for help in moving her family away—provoking a row with Angelina. When Alicia and Audrey finally managed to subdue their more fiery friends, it became apparent that the situation was more complicated than it seemed.

"I never came to you," Alicia had said, hands on her hips, "because my family refuses to leave."

Even after the summons came, the Spinnets went about their lives as if nothing had changed. Angelina said later that Alicia begged her parents to reconsider—even going so far as to drag her older brother into the fight. Matthew Spinnet was, according to Angelina Johnson, a complete wanker. It was all for nothing. Precious time slipped away. Days became weeks. The Spinnets wouldn't leave, they wouldn't even hide, convinced that their being right was enough.

Finally, the situation went from urgent to dire. The date of their appearance before the Commission came and went. Alicia—every person in the Order of Mercy—knew that disaster was mere steps from the Spinnet's door. Fleur concocted a plan. One night, all of their energies would go to rescuing the Spinnets.

Audrey was never sure how it went down. She had been stationed in a blown out building the Order of Mercy were using as a rendezvous point. Meanwhile, Fleur was in her kitchen, probably at her butcher's block, relaying messages. Angelina told Fleur some days after the fact that Alicia had spent hours with her family—packing, begging, cajoling.

"I don't know if she was successful or not, she won't say," Angelina had admitted. "The Snatchers were already there by the time Oliver and I showed up."

When the battle was over, it was Oliver who had come to tell Audrey that they failed. They stood in a dingy building that was left over from the last Muggle world war. The windows and part of the brick facing were fifty years gone. Rebar twisted snakelike out of concrete floors above their heads. In one spot, Audrey could see straight to the top floor of the three-story building.

"Angelina barely got Alicia away…. I tried to provide cover…." Oliver crouched down, wiping one big hand over his face. "Ten minutes, that was all it took."

There was so much implied in Oliver's statement. Audrey had been dumbstruck at the image of Alicia watching her family murdered, one-by-one, before her eyes. How Angelina must have struggled to pull her best mate to safety before she was killed, too. And Oliver, he was always the Keeper. In that moment, all Audrey could do was place her hand on his broad shoulder, not knowing how to comfort this ox of a man, feeling shaken by the deaths of people she'd never even met.

Clearing her throat, Audrey pushed those memories away so she could concentrate on the problem at hand. It was much easier to think of Penelope as a problem to be solved. It left no room for Audrey's emotions in the equation. Emotion would just distract.

"I wanted to ask you to call off all other missions tonight," Audrey said to Fleur. "I want-I need to give this all my attention. I-I don't want to make a mistake."

"Mais oui," Fleur said softly, placing her hand over Audrey's.

"I'll get Oliver to help," Audrey continued, hesitating before adding, "and Percy."

"Is zat wise?"

"Probably not."

Audrey almost laughed at her own stupidity. The last thing she should do was orchestrate a reunion between Percy and his ex-girlfriend. Not to mention Percy didn't have much experience with missions like this one. His role was strictly espionage. Yet, there was this niggling, insistent voice inside Audrey's head that told her it had to be Percy. Maybe it was an extension of her own insecurities, she wasn't sure. She wasn't even sure that her intuition served her well. Still, she didn't want Penelope's ghost hanging over them after this night, and she would never truly be exercised from Audrey's mind until she could see for herself that Percy was done with Penelope.

"Where would you like me to send her?" Fleur asked, smiling. "Far away? I zink zat Viktor has contacts in Siberia."

Laughter burst out of Audrey, who slapped her hand over her mouth. "Merlin, we are terrible people."

"This is what makes us such good friends."

oOo

The day passed with mind numbing slowness. The menial work of the Minister's office carried on, but anything of a sensitive nature was delegated to one of Thickness's toadies, who were actually Death Eaters. The things that passed across Percy's desk were of so little consequence that he could perform those tasks in his sleep. Which made it all that much easier to dwell on Penelope's situation, their past, and Audrey.

It was nearly the end of the day when Percy finally got some relief from the monotony, delivered by a puce paper airplane that nearly stabbed Percy in the nose. Blast Liam Williamson for being an insufferable git. Grabbing the offending memo and crushing it in his hand, Percy tried to keep a straight face when on the inside he was imagining ways to hex Williamson's bollocks off. Percy had made very little contact with the other man since the night they rescued Mary Latham from Death Eaters. He couldn't say that he missed the Auror in the least.

Percy read the missive quickly, noting that Williamson was requesting a four o'clock meeting. There was no need to look at his watch to know it was already half past three, Percy had only checked it every ten minutes for the last four hours. Well, that didn't give him much time, did it? Damn Williamson. Picking up his teacup, Percy made an excuse about visiting the commissary that no one paid any heed to, and escaped from the asphyxiation of his office to slip down the back stairwells.

Adrenaline and anxiety zipped through Percy's veins. He no longer questioned the importance of his meetings with Williamson. The man might be irritating, but there was a serious streak to him. Williamson didn't take his role as spy lightly, and he wasn't going to endanger Percy's life needlessly. That knowledge spiked Percy's blood, made him feel a bit reckless as he careened down the steps. Whatever Williamson had for Percy would be a new adventure, a new opportunity to do the right thing.

Percy stopped himself from swinging into the alcove that was their regular meeting place. Taking out his wand, Percy forced himself to proceed carefully. No need for Williamson to think he was too keen. Besides, Percy had promised Audrey he would be safe. With his wand pointed, Percy stepped into the recess to find Williamson waiting for him.

The other man nodded at Percy curtly. "Just the man I was looking for."

oOo

Audrey sprang off the sofa as soon as she heard the doorknob rattle. "I thought you were coming home early."

Percy hardly had one foot in the door, but he gaped at Audrey. "I-uh-I didn't…."

"I can see that."

"Are you angry?" He closed the door, looking over Audrey with a furrowed brow.

"No, of course not," Audrey scoffed. Was she angry? Audrey had no idea. She felt many emotions, too many to identify any one specifically. "But time's of the essence. We need to fetch Penelope before some more unsavory individuals catch up with her."

Percy nodded. "I had a meeting with Williamson today."

"We'll talk about it later."

"Alright," Percy said. He set his briefcase on the side table. "What is the plan?"

"Penelope is our only priority tonight." Audrey crossed to the coatrack, collecting her blackened cloak. She didn't look at Percy as she continued, "Oliver will meet us just after dark, outside her flat. He'll stand guard, while the two of us collect Penelope."

Percy pushed his glasses up. "Why am I going?"

"Don't you want a chance to say 'good-bye'?"

For a moment, Percy just stared at Audrey with his brow furrowed while she watched him from the corner of her eye. She wanted Percy to deny it. She wanted him to insist that no, of course he didn't need to see his ex-girlfriend one more time.

"There's a lot unsaid between Penelope and me," Percy said quietly.

Audrey swallowed the hurt, and turned to face Percy. "Well, now's your chance."

"Maybe we should talk about Penelope first?"

"No time."

oOo

"Over here."

Percy whipped around, wand pointed at the hushed voice, only to see the burly outline of his best mate lurking between two buildings. The cobblestones under Percy's feet were shiny from a quickly passing raincloud, a row of brownstones lining either side of the street. They were somewhere in London, but a corner Percy had never visited. Penelope had moved since their break up. Moved up, actually, but no surprise there. Glancing around for Audrey, he saw her small shape at the end of the block.

"Thanks for doing this," Percy said to Oliver, as he joined in him the shadowy alley across the street.

Oliver shrugged. "That's Penelope's building right there. Nice, eh?"

"You'd hate living in the city."

"And you don't?"

Percy hadn't thought of it, but he did rather miss living in the country.

"Audrey's acting strangely."

Oliver shoved his hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels. "I might have let it slip that you wanted to marry Penelope."

"Why would you do something that bloody stupid?" Percy shoved Oliver, who listed slightly to the side, then pushed Percy back.

"She asked…sort of."

Percy glared. "You should never be allowed to speak to women."

"Aye, I'm the one whose wits are turned by the sight of a skirt."

"Ah, I do hate it when Mum and Dad fight."

Both men straightened up at the sound of Audrey's voice.

"But if your spat is quite through," she continued, "we do have some pressing matters at hand."

Oliver chuckled, nudging Percy with his elbow. "Don't fuck this up."

Nodding, Percy stepped forward, intending to take Audrey's hand, but she turned on her heel. Percy understood Oliver's meaning. The overgrown Scot wasn't speaking of that night's mission, which should go off well enough. No, Oliver was speaking of Audrey.

It began to drizzle as Percy followed Audrey out of the alleyway and into the street. A few passersby heaved umbrellas over their heads, but Percy let the rain trickle cold and wet down his collar. Drops gathered on his glasses, obscuring his vision, but he kept his eyes on the small figure before him and moved onward. Percy's stomach ached as he climbed the brownstone's steps in Audrey's wake. He had no idea what to say to Penelope when he was faced with her. More importantly, what would he say to Audrey? Later, when this was over with. He wished he'd had a chance to explain about Penelope. He wished he'd had a chance to soothe Audrey's anxieties, whatever they were.

Audrey used her wand to bypass the Muggle locks on the front entrance of the building. Once inside, she crept up two flights of stairs, motioning for Percy to remain quiet. Not that he needed to be told. Percy couldn't have thought of two words to say to Audrey if he wanted to.

Finally, Audrey stopped in front of a door with brass numbers on it. "You do the honors."

Stepping in front of her, Percy took a moment to cast a Homenum Revelio spell, confirming the fact that just one person was inside the flat, presumably Penelope. Fiddling with his glasses, Percy glanced over his shoulder at Audrey. She was staring down the hall, her wand tapping against her thigh. Time to face his past, Percy would worry about the fall out later. He knocked on the door and waited.

"Who is it?"

That was Penelope's voice, only more shrill than Percy remembered. He was surprised when the only emotion that hit him was sympathy. He didn't know what he was expecting, but maybe sadness or anger. Instead, he just felt sad that Penelope was so frightened.

"It's me, Penny," he said. "It's Percy."

Several moments stretched thin before the door opened. When finally it did, Penelope stood on the threshold in a blue twin set and jeans, her curly blonde hair escaping its ponytail. She had obviously been crying, but her eyes were dry as she gazed up at Percy in disbelief.

"Are you here to take me before the Commission?" Penelope asked. She held her wand in one hand, the other still on the doorknob.

Flinching, Percy blinked at the woman before him. How could she think so little of him? But, then, maybe he'd earned it.

"What? No!" He motioned past Penelope into the flat. "May we come in?"

Penelope glanced around Percy at Audrey, then stood aside.

"Forgive me if I don't offer tea," Penelope said stiffly once Percy and Audrey were inside the flat.

"I wouldn't call this a social call," Audrey said, folding her arms over her chest.

Penelope looked Audrey over from the top of her woolen cap to her heavy shoes. "You look familiar."

"Hmph," Audrey snorted, looking away from both Penelope and Percy.

"This is Audrey Sprayberry," Percy said. "She was a Ravenclaw."

"New girlfriend? I hope you don't come to rely on him, he'll let you down when you need him most."

The words were dripping with acid. Anger flared inside of Percy, but strangely not for Penelope. He'd spent years hating her for what she did, and questioning his judgment. And with reason, the person standing before him was a bit snobbish but that was not news to Percy. When they were together, Percy hadn't wanted to bring Penelope around his brothers, for fear they would take the mickey. Yet, Penelope had never been inclined to have Ginny around, Oliver either. Percy wondered what Penelope saw in him. He might have dressed it up with nice manners and loads of ambition, but he was still just the poor boy from the Burrow.

Still, he was guilty of the same snobbery. He'd chosen Penelope, turned a blind eye to her snub of his family and friends, because he sensed that she was everything he wasn't. Percy might not understand her family's position in the Muggle world, but it was obvious that Penelope had money and class. Things that Percy was keen to drape himself in.

Regardless, Percy set aside his anger. He was tired of being angry, especially with himself. What had it ever changed? Besides, there were more pressing issues, like the fact that Penelope was hurt. Yes, she was frightened—who wouldn't be with Umbridge breathing down her neck—but she was also wounded, and that Percy had a hand in.

"You made your choices, Penelope," Percy said lowly. "You pulled my world out from under me."

"You did that to yourself," Penelope retorted.

"Maybe you're right about that, but I deserved a say in what you did."

Penelope narrowed her eyes. "Why?"

"Because it was my baby, too."

All of the air was sucked from the room. Percy had waited a long time to say those words aloud, but they were not nearly as raw out in the world as they had been in his heart. The blood stopped rushing in his head, and he saw before him a woman he had once loved, and at that moment Penelope's pretty face was contorted with ugly emotions. On the other side of the room was another woman, one he wanted to love if she'd let him. Audrey's mouth was hanging open, her eyes big. He wanted to push her jaw shut, but he needed to make peace with Penelope.

"Um," Audrey stammered. "Maybe I should…not be here?"

"What does it matter, this is all ancient history," Penelope said. She wrapped her arms around herself, turning her back to Percy.

"I'm sorry," Percy said, his voice sounded a bit strangled to his own ears. "I'm sorry that I just left after you told me about the abortion, without giving you a chance to explain."

"I didn't want a chance to explain." Penelope looked at Percy. "I wanted your comfort."

"And I wanted our baby."

"No, you didn't."

Tears burned Percy's eyes. How could she say that? Didn't she know him at all?

"You wanted an excuse to return to your family without having to sacrifice your pride."

His eyes snapped shut, a tear rolling down his cheek. Apparently, Penelope did know him after all. The truth of her words was like being sucker punched. They knocked the breath from his body, they were the only real thing in the world. He'd had it all figured out, hadn't he? These grand plans for a wedding, to return to Mum with her first grandchild. He and Penny would have been young, just starting out, they would have needed his parents' help to care for the baby while they worked. Percy hadn't wanted that baby, any more than he really wanted Penelope—he simply loved the idea of them.

Penelope sniffed. "You wanted to stick your head in the sand, Percy. You were ready to believe Fudge over Dumbledore, over your own family, but I wasn't. I spent weeks petrified for the sake of all of this blood purity nonsense. My first years at Hogwarts felt like a dream I daren't believe in, then suddenly there was the real world, and it wanted me dead."

Percy didn't know what to say. Penelope was wiping tears away with the sleeve of her sweater. When they were together, she hadn't wanted to speak of the Basilisk, and, feeling guilty over failing both Ginny and Penny, Percy hadn't pressed the issue. Hearing her speak of it now left Percy feeling gutted, like he'd been turned inside out. He looked to Audrey. Tears were rolling down her cheeks, her eyes on him.

"I believed Harry Potter," Penelope rasped. "I believed him. Even if we hadn't been so bloody young, even if I had been ready for a family—"

"Stop."

Percy and Penelope both turned to look at Audrey. She wiped the tears off her face and glanced at Percy. For a moment, her features crumbled, like she would start crying, but she didn't. Instead, Audrey looked at Penelope. He couldn't fathom what Audrey was thinking in that moment, but he had a feeling she was going to surprise him.

"You don't know me," Audrey said. "But I knew who you were. Penelope, Queen of the Common Room, the girl we all wanted to be."

Penelope snorted, rolling her eyes.

"I'm sorry that I've witnessed this very private moment," Audrey said. "But you don't owe Percy an explanation, and if he needs one, I think he's smart enough to infer it from here."

"What?" Percy demanded.

"It's her body, Percy," Audrey said, looking at him.

"And my baby."

"Maybe, but can you deny that she did the best thing for all three of you? She was in an untenable situation, too young and on the verge of war."

Percy pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm not judging her—"

"Aren't you?"

Anger clouded his heart, then blew away on a breath. Maybe Audrey was right about him, just as Penelope had been. All this time, Percy had assumed that Penelope threw their baby away to pursue her own ambitions, just as he had thrown away his family for the same reasons. He'd cast Penelope as the villain in his life, because it allowed him an outlet for some of the hatred he'd held for himself. In the end, he and Penelope would have made an unhappy family, and he was glad to escape that fate.

Audrey walked over to Percy, wrapping her small hand around his forearm. "It's not your fault, Percy, so quit inventing ways to blame yourself."

Penelope snorted, but Percy just gazed down at Audrey for a long moment. She really did know him, for better or worse.

"Although," Audrey added, her lips curling up, "we'll talk about your shoddy contraceptive charm work later."

For a moment, it was like Percy had stepped outside of his body to see himself smiling. He couldn't feel it, and it was rather pitiful, but there it was: a smile at the most unlikely of moments. In all of his grieving, Percy wasn't sure he ever expected to face Penelope again, yet here he was. Dragging up his most painful memories and sorriest failures, but he was smiling. Because of Audrey.

"Now that we've all kissed and made up," Penelope drawled, still hugging herself. "To what do I owe this visit?"

Audrey looked at Percy. "This is all you, Gryffindor."

She was letting him play the hero. Something new was pounding in his heart, making it throb with tender and tenacious emotion. Audrey was surprising, and she was challenging. Percy could imagine wanting to strangle her, but he wanted to be present to hear every word out of her mouth. And those moments when he wanted her to shut it? Well, he'd just have to kiss her.

"We're here to rescue you," Percy said to Penelope, but he was still looking at Audrey.

"And how do you propose to do that?" Penelope asked.

"We have contacts on the Continent that will hide you until the end of the war," Audrey explained. "We'll Apparate to the Coast, and from there we'll send you by Port Key to France."

"When?"

"Right now," Percy replied. "Pack a few things if you must."

"No word to my parents or friends?"

Percy shook his head. "I'm afraid not."

Penelope looked from Percy to Audrey. "There have been stories…."

"Time is of the essence," Audrey interrupted.

Penelope disappeared to her room, leaving Percy and Audrey staring at each other.

oOo

It was an hour later, Penelope was safely out of the country, but Audrey was following Percy up the stairs to his flat in silence. They hadn't spoken of what happened at Penelope's, though Audrey could see how it was weighing on Percy. His shoulders were stiffer, his mouth more rigid. There were a lot of emotions whirling inside of her Gryffindor, and they were waiting for an outlet. He walked into the place, and straight back to his room, leaving Audrey to lock up.

Strangely, Audrey felt very calm. She'd been shocked when Percy let it slip about the baby, but for the first time, Audrey saw Penelope Clearwater as a person with emotions and secrets, just the same as Audrey. Throughout her life, Audrey felt as though she were on the outside looking in, but in that moment, some of her loneliness seeped away. More importantly, she was able to see Penelope as a fellow woman in need of understanding, and that Audrey could offer for all of their sakes—even Percy's.

Truth be told, Audrey didn't think she could do what Penelope did. In fact, she could understand Percy's point of view. Penelope had been wrong when she said that Percy just wanted the baby as a way to return to his family. For a man like Percy, family was everything, even when it was a nuisance or unplanned or even a burden. Yet, selfishly, Audrey was rather glad for the way things turned out. She wanted Percy to herself.

Walking into the bedroom, Audrey waved her wand at the candles on the nightstands. Percy was sitting on the corner of the bed, still in his cloak, hands hanging uselessly between his knees. Something in Audrey's chest shifted to see how forlorn he was. Leaning against the doorjamb, she longed to be able to take his pain away.

"Are you angry with me?" she asked.

Percy looked up, his brow furrowed. "I rather think it should be the other way around."

"You would."

Percy made a face that could mean a million different things, or nothing at all.

Audrey went to stand between his legs, running her fingers through his hair. "You're a responsible sort, aren't you? You think when something goes horribly wrong that it's all your fault. And it isn't, you know, not always."

"I-I just wished she would have talked to me first, before…."

"And would it have made a difference? It was still her decision to make in the end."

"Maybe I could have coped with it better."

"Maybe," Audrey allowed. "But I have a feeling you didn't make it easy for Penelope to talk to you."

A ghost of smile came to Percy's mouth, but not his eyes. "You'd be correct. I-I was over the moon about the baby. I just never saw it as a…problem."

"To be fair, I'm not sure that Penelope saw it as a baby, so much as a pregnancy. I know that doesn't make sense to a Weasley…."

"She wasn't wrong about me," Percy admitted.

"Yes, she was."

He shook his head. "For a moment, I thought about giving up the Ministry to stay home with the baby, but just as quickly I imagined taking that baby home to my mum."

"And all would be forgiven?"

"Something like that."

Audrey wrapped her arms around Percy, whispering in his ear, "You're a good man, Percy Weasley, better for having had to work at it."

"Your confidence is misplaced," he replied, leaning his head against her chest for a moment before abruptly sitting up. "Bloody hell, I nearly forgot."

"Please tell me there's not another girlfriend I should worry about."

"No, it's Williamson."

Audrey giggled. "Well, I always thought I'd lose you to Oliver, but okay."

"No." Percy smacked her on the bum. "He contacted me today with some news that Bill and Fleur are going to be interested in."

Chapter 41

Notes:

NSFW! Mid way through the chapter, you'll find a bit of lovin'.

F—

We need a meeting tonight. I have important information to relay to you.

—P

Early that morning, Fleur's notepad flared to life with that message. Short, concise, and spare on the details. That didn't keep Fleur from speculating on what was so urgent that her brother-in-law was demanding a meeting. Frankly, since Ron had left, Fleur's days were filled with boredom. She brewed potions, tended her garden—she'd even added a third raised plot for vegetables now that spring had arrived. There would be broccoli, cauliflower, and lettuce in a few weeks. Mostly, she counted the hours until Bill came home, or until darkness fell and the Order of Mercy began its nightly missions.

With the promise of company, Fleur set aside her usual tasks and made a grand dinner instead. Coq au vin, potatoes, carrots, and a lovely date and raisin tart for dessert. Upon returning home, Bill voiced his surprise of the wonderful smells that assailed him.

"Have I forgotten an anniversary?" he asked, with a twinkle in his eye. He sidled up behind Fleur at the stove, encircling her waist with his hands and kissing her neck.

"You know you have not," Fleur replied tartly. "Zis is for Percy and Audrey. Zey should be here soon."

"Mm, pity," Bill murmured. One hand slid onto her belly, pressing lightly.

Fleur turned, kissing him quickly. "Later, mon Bill."

oOo

"So, let me get this straight," Bill said over dessert. "Williamson says the Aurors are planning to move a large group of prisoners from the Ministry to Azkaban, and why should we do anything about it? There's a prisoner transport every week."

Fleur set the tea towel aside and joined Bill, Percy, and Audrey at the table. "Oui. We have discussed zis before. Zee Order of Mercy does not have zee manpower to disrupt zat kind of operation under normal circumstances, but you say zere will be at least a dozen prisoners—zat is twice zee number!"

"And twice the Aurors," Percy added and sighed. His tart sat before him untouched. Beside him, Audrey reached out to cover his fist where it lie on the table. "I've worked this over in my mind a hundred times, and I know you are correct, but Williamson believes these prisoners aren't just Muggle-borns. He thinks they're political prisoners."

Bill folded his lips tight and pushed his plate away. In the last war, the Death Eaters used the Imperious curse to control people who might be unwilling to do their bidding. It was elegant, subtle, and hard to trace. Certainly there was evidence of its use in this war as well: Rosmerta and Thickness, just to name two. However, this time around, the Death Eaters were using another, blunter tool to force compliance from the reluctant. The bastards were kidnapping and holding prisoner the loved ones—some of them just children—of anybody who was openly causing trouble, effectively shutting them up. Those were the political prisoners Percy spoke of. The leverage held over those who would otherwise be allies to the Order of the Phoenix.

Freeing those prisoners could be just the Cheering charm that Kingsley was hoping for. It could bring to their side some powerful voices. But more sentimentally, it could also return Luna Lovegood. Bill knew it was a slim chance, but there was an awful lot he'd do to see his baby sister's oldest friend returned safely.

"What if we had assistance?" Bill suggested. "Kingsley has been looking for an opportunity to do something big, something that would remind people to hold out hope."

"At what cost?" Audrey asked. "The Order of Mercy is at risk of being exposed, even if this mission is successful. That will put all of us in danger and effectively end our activities."

What she said was true, but the way Bill saw it, the Order of Mercy was always on borrowed time. Yes, an operation this big was a risk to all of them. If they failed, they would be hauled off to Azkaban with the prisoners they were hoping to rescue. Or worse. Yet if they succeed, just as Audrey pointed out, the Order of Mercy may still be too compromised to continue their activities. Their days were numbered anyway, weren't they? How many more Muggleborns could disappear without a trace before somebody became suspicious? This was the chance to save as many as a dozen people—some of them children—in one night.

"Maybe it's time for the Order of Mercy to retire," Bill suggested.

Fleur's head snapped around to glare at him, mouth pursed into a small, angry pucker.

Bill reached out to take her hand, but Fleur snatched it away. "You've done a lot of good—"

"Do not patronize me, Bill Weasley!"

Looking around the table, Bill saw indignation mirrored in Audrey's face, but Percy looked as if he were trying not to laugh. "I don't mean to."

"Then what do you mean?" Audrey asked, her lips barely moving.

"Maybe it's time to switch tactics," Bill suggested.

Fleur was still glaring at him, but Audrey seemed to relax just a bit.

"So," Audrey said. "Let me see if I understand you…. You want us to do this one thing—this one really big thing—and retire the Order of Mercy?"

"For now," Percy put in, holding up one finger importantly.

"For now," Bill agreed. "When the dust settles, maybe the war will be over."

Fleur scoffed. "Or maybe we will zink of a new stratagem."

Bill reached under the table and squeezed Fleur's thigh, and she sent him a small look. He'd spoken his inner most desire, for all of this to be over with, but his gut was as skeptical as Fleur's. It wasn't only the downtrodden half-bloods and blood traitors slogging to work every day who needed a spell of hope. Bill needed it, too. It wasn't lost on him that for every Muggle-born Fleur rescued, two more were carted off to Azkaban and a third went on the run. The war machine was quickly running out of fodder. Once it ate up all of the Muggle-borns, who was next? Blood traitors? Goblins? Quarter Veelas?

"When does zis prisoner transfer happen?" Fleur asked Percy.

He pushed his glasses up. "Ten days."

Bill whistled. "Not a lot of time to plan."

"Zen we have no time to waste," Fleur said.

"So," Percy started. "We're going to do this?"

"If Kingsley is willing," Fleur said, looking at Bill.

"I'll send him a Patronus requesting a meeting," Bill replied, snagging Fleur's hand under the table.

"We have to put this to our own members," Audrey added. "We can't just assume they'll be willing to risk their lives."

"You can count on Oliver," Percy said almost instantly.

Bill laughed. "Do you do all of his talking for him?"

"What? No!" Percy turned scarlet and muttered, "I just know him. He'll want in."

"It's alright, love," Audrey cooed, wrapping her arms around Percy's shoulders. "Nobody needs to know about your secret love."

"Sod off," Percy grumbled, his neck disappearing into his shoulders.

Audrey kissed his cheek with a smack. "C'mon, Fleur, I think the boys can handle the dishes. We've lists to make."

oOo

Setting her brush on the chest of drawers, Audrey glanced at Percy where he sat on the edge of the mattress in a white undershirt and the pajama bottoms that matched the top she was wearing. After Bill sent his Patronus to Shacklebolt, Percy had grown quiet. Even after they returned—not thirty minutes ago—Percy remained silent as he stripped out of his robes and prepared for bed. Now he stared at the blank wall as if it held untold answers to questions Audrey could only guess at.

"Sickle for your thoughts," she murmured, coming to stand between his spread knees and draping her arms over his shoulders.

Percy looked up at her, his hands curling around the backs of her thighs. "I've been so proud of my work with the Order of Mercy. It's been a long time since I could feel proud of-of myself."

"Are you having second thoughts about this mission?"

"No." Percy shook his head, then added quietly, "I think I'd like a more active role in bringing the Order of Mercy to an end."

"What do you mean?" But Audrey was afraid she knew. Her Gryffindor wanted to do something foolish and brave.

"I want to be a part of the rescue party."

The look in his eyes was so earnest, but Audrey's stomach tightened. What did she do now? She could plead with him to be careful, to leave the heroics to the likes of Bill and Oliver. Those were men built for dashing acts of daring, but in his quiet way, so was Percy. She could beg him to be safe, and he would assure her a dozen times over that he wouldn't do anything stupid, but it would be a lie. If—If this mission happened, it would be the final act in Percy's redemption. Even if Percy didn't recognize that yet, Audrey did. He would prove himself worthy at last, and he would give wholly of himself.

Percy was not a man who did things by half-measure.

She could lose him. Audrey's heart contracted painfully in her chest, but she fought to keep the emotion inside.

"Audrey, I—"

"Sh." She placed her fingers over his lips. "Don't make promises you can't keep."

Percy kissed her palm and pulled her hand away. "I'm not going to. I would never….I want to be the man you can count on, but I do know how dangerous this is. If—If I let you down, it won't be because I didn't try my damnedest."

Audrey tipped her head down, hair falling in her face. She tried to unsee the warmth glowing in Percy's eyes when he looked at her. She tried to deny that she knew what it meant, or that maybe there was a corresponding warmth in her own chest. There were emotions inside of her that were so enormous and so raw that she was afraid to name them, but they all had to do with Percy. She wished she was as brave as Percy. She wished she could find the determination to do the right thing before it was too late.

"Hey," Percy murmured, squeezing her thighs.

"I'm only going to say this once," Audrey said, forcing a smile and looking Percy in the face. "And only so that I can say 'I told you so' after you get yourself killed."

His hands traveled up her legs to cup her bum, but Percy kept a straight face.

"Don't do anything stupid."

"Message received." His thumbs slipped under the elastic of her knickers, tracing lines over her ticklish bottom. "It's been an emotional few days…."

Audrey wiggled her bottom. "Percy, are you trying to seduce me?"

"Only if it's working."

He looked up at her with a cheeky grin that Audrey found hard to resist. Not that she wanted to. Easier to be swept away by all the tremors he created inside her body and over her skin. Easier to pretend that what was between them was three parts lust and one part affection, and not something deeper. She was afraid it was something deeper. Closing her eyes, Audrey sunk her fingers into his curls.

"Kiss me," Percy ordered.

His voice was deep and smooth over the demand. Audrey's thighs and belly clenched, though his hands didn't move from her bottom where he kept up that soft caress. She could tease, too. Bending, Audrey placed a sweet kiss to the corner of his mouth and pulled away, her mouth curling into a foxy smirk.

"Minx." He pulled her against him, his hands sliding over her knickers, up to her waist. "Kiss me."

She did. She kissed his forehead and cheeks. She even lifted his glasses to kiss his eyelids and the tip of his nose. All the while, Percy's magic fingers traced shapes over her back and along her spine, her greedy skin tingling and aching for more of his touch. There were times when she couldn't believe how fun this was, whatever this was. It wasn't just a shag, it was so much more. Playful, imaginative, hot. Percy's hands traveled down again, squeezing her cheeks and pulling her hips snuggly against his body.

"Kiss me," he commanded, looking her in the eye.

Tugging at his curls, Audrey kissed him. She nipped his bottom lip, he opened to her and Audrey slipped her tongue inside to play with his. Percy's fingers dug into her backside, his moan low and primitive in his throat. Just for a moment, Audrey pulled away to stare into his eyes. They glowed hot as he stared up at her with more than just lust. There was a pang in Audrey's chest that stole her breath. Confusion flooded Audrey's senses. She wanted to hide, she wanted to bask. Far easier just to let Percy take charge. Under the nightshirt, Percy's long hands skimmed over her ribcage to cup her breasts.

"When the war is over," his thumbs rubbed small circles against the underside of her breasts, his voice smooth over her raw nerves, "I'm going to buy you a negligée. Silk, I think, and short and red with just a little bit of lace." Audrey bit her lip. Merlin, she loved it when his voice washed over her like that. "I'm going to run my hands under it, and all over your body…."

Percy twisted her nipples between his fingers, then gave them a little tug. Audrey gasped. Wet heat gathered between her thighs. She was lost in the feel of his hands and the sound of his voice as he commanded her to kiss him again. Cupping his face, she kissed him with open mouth and open heart. His fingers continued their sweet torture and their tongues slid against each other. Audrey was burning up, completely exposed despite the fact that they were both still clothed. It was hard to pretend that her feelings for Percy were fleeting or tepid when he turned Audrey's body to liquid fire. All that attentiveness—listening to her sighs and moans, knowing that they were the key to unlocking her pleasure. All that tender care, in his touch and kiss, in the way that he looked at her in bed. She was in deep.

His hands were at her hips again, gripping the waistband of her knickers. "I'm going to take these off now."

"Yes," she begged, "please."

The extraneous garment came down to land around her ankles on the floor. Audrey stopped Percy just long enough to pull his undershirt off, kissing him once, twice, three times. His skin was hot, flushed pink with a sheen of sweat.

"Put your hands on my shoulders," Percy said, his fingers resting on the inside of her thigh.

Audrey obeyed, well beyond the point of teasing. She was all need. Not so Percy. His hand moved up her thigh slowly.

"Per-cy!"

"Patience."

"Please."

"Look at me."

She did, and at that exact moment, he cupped her mons.

"You are so wet."

Audrey hummed, her eyes fluttering shut.

"Open your eyes, minx," Percy commanded.

Audrey pushed herself against his palm. "Touch me," she countered.

"Look at me, and I'll make it worth your while."

Did he know the power his voice held over her at that moment? He could ask anything of her—he could ask her to bare her soul—she would do it, gladly. A little part of her wished he would. She wouldn't need courage, she could wipe away all her doubts. She could name all her emotions because Percy told her to. That would be easy to do. Opening her eyes, Audrey found Percy smirking up at her, his fingers sliding through her folds to her opening, fingering her. Audrey bit her lip. Her breath came in quick, shallow puffs. Her skin stretched tight. He found her clitoris and Audrey's eyes snapped shut as she reveled in that building pleasure.

"Look at me." Percy's voice had rough edges.

With a plaintive moan, Audrey forced her eyes open. He wasn't smirking at her anymore. He was watching. What he saw in her face, she couldn't imagine, and soon she couldn't think. The pressure and pace increased, her hips thrusting and twitching as her orgasm built. Percy's other arm was around her bottom, offering support in case her knees gave out, and they might. Finally, she couldn't keep her eyes open a second longer. Her body bowed, then trembled as the crescendo radiated from that sweet place between her legs, down her thighs and through her belly. She was moaning, human language no longer at her command. Before she could melt into Percy, he swung her onto the mattress, pressing her wand into her hand.

"Do the spell, Audrey."

Pointing her wand at her abdomen, Audrey performed the contraceptive spell. Then Percy was over her, his cock rubbing against bits that still tingled with aftershocks. They both groaned when he entered her, then stilled, staring at each other.

"Merlin, Audrey," he murmured, his voice full of emotion.

She cupped his face in her hands and kissed him. "You're amazing, Gryffindor."

Percy turned red. "Audrey…."

"Now, do me."

They both laughed, until the first thrust. Audrey drew up her knees, cradling him between her thighs, meeting his hips. This time she watched him, as her hands traveled over his chest and belly and back. The way his eyes shut, his Adam's apple working up and down, his mouth opening, his bottom lip trembling. It was so sensual, so intimate. Maybe she could understand what Percy saw when he watched her cum. His thrusts grew more forceful, like they always did at the end. Audrey gripped his tight arse. She kissed his throat and shoulder, nipped his ear, until he groaned and collapsed on top of her with a lazy grin. He kissed her chest, snuggling into her with Audrey's arms around his shoulders. He was too heavy, and she didn't care. This was a good place to be, and that thought didn't scare her nearly as much as it should.

oOo

The lynx Patronus came at dinner the next night. Although, sitting at the same table, anxiously pushing food around their plates could hardly be called dinner. Kingsley Shacklebolt's voice came from the silvery cat, requested a meeting, in one hour, in the usual place. Bill stood from the table before the silvery creature evaporated.

"I should go wiz you," Fleur said, catching his wrist as he walked by.

She peered up at her husband, whose brows were knitted in concern. Bill had requested this meeting with Kingsley on the behalf of the Order of Mercy, but Bill was no more than a free agent, lending his assistance when needed. Fleur was the head of the Order of Mercy. She was the one who created it, who organized it. If this was to be the last act of the Order of Mercy, it should be Fleur who set it into motion.

"We meet in rough places, love," Bill said. "I can't risk having you bring unnecessary attention to us."

Fleur snorted indelicately. "I will be discreet."

"As always, but your magic isn't discreet, or in your control."

"I will not be left out of zee planning, Bill." She relinquished her hold on him. "I am tired of being…being stuck—" Fleur sneered, baring her teeth. Stuck, such an ugly English word with blunt sounds that caught on her tongue like fly paper.

"I know you're bored," Bill said. He dropped down to one knee in front of her.

She was bored. The only time she left Shell Cottage was to visit the Burrow, hardly what Fleur would call relief from the ennui. Her husband, her friends, swept into her home flush with excitement from their missions while she sat at her butcher's block keeping notes.

"It is more zan zat," Fleur murmured, the hard glint in her eyes softening as she looked at her husband.

"I know that, too," Bill replied, taking her hand. "You'll not be cut out of the planning, you have my word, but let me take these first risks for you."

She sighed. "D'accord."

oOo

The next days were anxious ones for Percy. He ceased his afterhours activities altogether, not wishing to draw undue attention to himself, but he still watched Audrey embark on her own missions. He spent one night reading the same page in an old biography a dozen times waiting for word from Bill. It finally came just before midnight: Kingsley wants to meet with you and Williamson. Not exactly the news Percy was hoping for, and yet he wasn't surprised.

So, it was on the second night after his dinner with Bill, that Percy followed his brother into the Hog's Head. They wore dark cloaks, hoods pulled over their bright hair. Inside, oil lamps lit the Hog's Head, casting greasy light over grimy tables and draping shadows over dangerous corners. Percy had been in this pub before, but only on official Ministry business. Well, he reckoned, this was still official business, after a fashion.

Behind the bar stood Aberforth Dumbledore. He sported a full, gray beard that was as menacing as Albus Dumbledore's had been magnificent. It was hard to believe the two men were brothers. The old professor might have been eccentric, but he'd also been kind and merry. The barman was grisly and prickly, though Percy reckoned that Aberforth was his own brand of eccentric. The young man glanced at the back of his brother's hood-covered head, wondering if people questioned how they could be brothers.

Bill didn't approach the bar, in fact, Percy could see no visible signs of communication, and yet Aberforth jerked his chin in the direction of the backstairs. The next thing he knew, Percy was following his brother once again, this time up a creaky and dimly lit staircase, down a darkened hallway to tap three times on the third door on the left. A broad-shoulder black man with a gleaming head opened it. Kingsley Shacklebolt smiled at Bill.

"You're late."

Percy checked his watch to note that they were, in fact, exactly on time.

"My friend and I were just catching up." Shacklebolt opened the door wider to reveal Liam Williamson dressed in dull wizard's robes, leaning against a bureau.

"I didn't know the two of you were friends," Percy said after the door was closed, there was a slight accusation in his voice. He couldn't help it, Williamson always rubbed him wrong.

"Colleagues may be a more accurate description," Williamson replied, nodding to Shacklebolt.

"Yes, the Auror department isn't that large, most of us have worked together at some point," Shacklebolt agreed.

Bill stepped forward to shake hands with Williamson, but Percy hung back, watching Shacklebolt closely. The two had met only briefly at Ministry functions in the past. Shacklebolt had always projected a sense of efficiency and imperturbability, and yet Percy had sensed something more about the older man. As if he were silently and concisely sizing up every person in the room.

"Liam, here, was just sharing some office gossip," Shacklebolt said. "It would seem that the esteemed Head Auror has added some questionable new officers."

"That's one way of saying that the Death Eater in charge has brought in some of his cronies," Williamson added.

"But now that we are all here, perhaps it's time to get down to business."

Shacklebolt spoke in the same pleasant tone—Percy half expected the man to offer everyone a cup of tea next. Motioning expansively to Williamson, Shacklebolt kept his expression friendly. Yet, there was an order directly given and explicitly understood under all of those congenial words. Williamson sprang away from the bureau, waving his wand. A large map materialized, three spots highlighted, connected by a meandering red line: London, Ipswich, and the Port of Lowestoft.

"Here," the young Auror said, pointing with his wand, "is the Ministry of Magic in London. Every week, a convoy baring six to eight Muggle-borns is transported out of the city to Azkaban. They are taken by a Ministry-owned, and magically modified, prisoner van. There are two guards inside the van and another two guards riding motorcycles to act as escort. Usually, only one of the guards would be an actual Auror, the rest would be Snatchers. They travel out of the city to a glen near Ipswich—it takes about forty-five minutes due to the magical modification. There they meet a swarm of Dementors who see the prison van the rest of journey….Here."

Williamson stabbed the map with his wand, indicating the Port of Lowestoft on the North Sea. For a millennium, wizards had been transporting their criminals out of England and to Azkaban by barge, right under the noses of the Muggles. In fact, the Port of Lowestoft was home to thousands of Muggle ships, cranes, and warehouses. Yet one run down dock housed a magical barge, captained by a wizard willing to consign his brethren to the Dementors in order to line his pockets with gold, and the Muggles were none the wiser.

"Yaxley announced last week that there was going to be a special transport—larger than the rest—and he needed volunteers, but he didn't want the Snatchers."

"Do you know who the prisoners are?" Bill asked. He folded his arms over his chest, surveying the map.

Williamson shook his head. "No, only that there are to be fourteen of them, transported in two vans."

"We can assume that they are high value prisoners," Shacklebolt said, rubbing his chin with one hand. "Otherwise, why take the extra precautions?"

"Exactly," Williamson chimed in. "He's shared very few details with the team so far, but he's planning to use the same route. And he's asked for fifty Dementors to rendezvous with the Aurors in Ipswich."

Bill whistled, and Percy shifted restlessly.

"We're going to need at least two members with strong Patronuses," Shacklebolt murmured.

"Then we are doing this?" Bill asked, looking from the two Aurors to Percy.

"Yes," Shacklebolt responded. "We'll need to intercept them in the glen. It will be more secluded, less likely to garner attention from Muggles. Liam, I want a list of the Aurors who will be working the convoy."

"Most of them are Death Eaters," Williamson replied, sneering.

"But not all of them. If we're lucky, some of the regular Aurors will prefer to turn a blind eye rather than fight. I want to know who might be a potential ally."

"We should transport the prisoners to an alternate location," Bill said, tracing his finger along the coastline. "Maybe a bit south, to a smaller port. We can have Audrey stationed there, waiting to send them by Portkey to the Continent."

"How will we transfer them to this Audrey?" Williamson asked. "That's a lot of people to Disapparate."

"With another Portkey," Percy said. "I'll do it."

Kingsley smiled at Percy, making him feel as if he had just answered a question correctly in Transfiguration. "Excellent. We'll have to work fast…."

And they did.

Nightly missions ceased as Fleur and Audrey threw their brilliant minds into planning for Ipswich. Shacklebolt was issued his own enchanted notepad to make planning easier. Bill and Williamson scoped out the rendezvous location near Ipswich, a glen in Holywells Park. Soon, the combined forces of the Order of the Phoenix and Order of Mercy were called for a briefing.

Chapter 42

"I think this is what they call 'the witching hour'," Audrey whispered.

Midnight had come and gone, but Audrey's hand was clasped in Percy's as they walked down the streets of Mayfair, her short legs taking two strides for every one of his. Mayfair was even more posh than Audrey had imagined in her romance novels. Stately brick, lacquered doors, wrought iron gates. Naturally it was raining, but under an Impervious charm Audrey was perfectly dry.

"Who is they?" asked Oliver. He was about three steps behind the couple, watching their backs.

"The Muggles, of course."

"Shhh!" Percy hissed. He pointed at a sign that read "Down Street." "I think this is the place we're looking for."

"Yes, Father," Audrey said, affecting her most obedient voice. It earned her a dirty look from her boyfriend and a snicker from his mate.

"Would you two behave," Percy grumbled.

Oliver laughed louder.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake!"

Tomorrow at this time the three of them would be preparing to intercept a Ministry prison convoy, this night was the final briefing. Every person involved in the mission would finally meet in one place to review strategy. Audrey knew what part she was set to play. She would be standing on a beach in Clacton-On-Sea, ready to send the newly freed prisoners to safety on the Continent. It was Percy and Oliver who would be taking the deadlier risks.

"There," Percy said.

Before them was a row of buildings. On one side there was a grand, white edifice, on the other a stately brick, and in the center was a section two stories high and painted red. There was a throughway to the alley behind the buildings, a small shop that looked like it sold Muggle fizzy drinks, one metal door, and another shiny black one. It was the metal door they were looking for. It led to the Down Street Underground station, long since abandoned. The Muggles called it a "ghost station," and even for someone who had spent seven years listening to the Grey Lady moan, Audrey still found the term spooky.

Percy dropped Audrey's hand, shoving her in to Oliver's arms.

"Percy! Honestly!" Audrey sputtered, pulling out of Oliver's protective grasp. She was going to have to talk to Percy about his sexism. He wasn't nearly as bad as his loutish, Scottish friend, but somehow it was more endearing on Oliver. With Percy, it was just annoying.

With his wand out, Percy pulled open the metal door, and was trampled. A stampede of silvery-grey horses and riders charged through Percy and into the street, disappearing through the buildings across the street. For a moment, the three of them stood slack-jawed in the lamplight.

"Perce?" Oliver murmured.

Audrey rushed forward, wrapping her arms around him from behind. "Gryffindor?"

"I'll never be warm again," Percy said, shivering in her arms.

"Sorry about that." A tall, weather-beaten man with a welcoming smile materialized from the shadows of the ghost station. "The Calvary was in residence tonight. Now, come quickly."

Audrey rubbed her hands over Percy's torso, his teeth were chattering. "Hello, Professor," she said.

"Good evening, Miss Sprayberry, and please, it's Remus. Now, come along."

"Best move then," Audrey said to Percy. She cast a warming charm over him before nudging him inside.

Once the door was closed behind them, they all lit their wands. The walls curved over them, grimy but still wearing white and red tile that was nearly a century old. There was an arrow painted on the wall with the words "To Street" above it. A long, metal staircase stretched before them. The professor was already several yards ahead.

"Kingsley is already here," he said. "As well as Bill and Fleur."

They followed him down the stairs, past an antique lift, a toilet that had seen better days, and into a long corridor lit by torches. A half dozen witches and wizards mingled on the platform, which dropped off to tracks that were long out of service. Along the other wall were maps and diagrams, some of them Muggle, but most of them magical.

"Oi! Wood!"

Audrey looked up to see a young, blonde man striding towards Oliver. He was considerably taller than Audrey herself, but he looked like a goblin compared to Oliver. The young man stretched out his hand, smiling, and shaking his head.

"Jack," Oliver greeted.

"Your mum won't be happy to know what you're getting up to in the night," Jack said, grasping Oliver's hand.

"And that's why she'll never find out," Oliver replied glaring at the other man. He looked at Audrey. "My cousin, Jack Macmillan. Jack, you remember Percy? And this is his girlfriend, Audrey."

"Did you join the Order?" Percy asked. He had regained some of his coloring.

"Aye," Jack replied. "About two months ago. Can't say that I mentioned it to my mum, either."

Another young man shuffled up alongside Jack. This one was tall, lean, dark-haired, and painfully young looking. He couldn't be twenty yet, but here he was in a ghost station with the Order of the Phoenix. He seemed much too green to Audrey. She wanted to swaddle him in flannel and send him home. Oliver, on the other hand, was growling at the youth.

"Wood," the boy said. "Weasley, right?"

"I didn't know the Order were recruiting pups," Oliver snarled at his cousin.

Percy chuckled.

"I have obviously missed something," Audrey muttered.

"Audrey, I'd like to introduce you to Hal Sparrow," Percy said grandly. "Recently graduated Gryffindor, and Katie Bell's ex-boyfriend."

"I was hoping Wood might be able to tell me if she's safe," Sparrow said, his voice harder, his shoulders straighter.

"What's it to you?" Oliver snapped.

"I cared for her, too," Sparrow shot back.

"Just enough to dump her while she was in a coma. By letter."

Sparrow turned red. "I might have been an arsehole, but that doesn't stop me from worrying about her. Besides, what's it to you? I certainly cleared the way for you to get with her, didn't I?"

"Oliver," Jack said brightly, a hand on his cousin's shoulder pushing him away from Sparrow. "Have you heard from Ernie?"

"She's safe," Percy said to Sparrow.

The young man looked Percy in the eye. "Cheers."

oOo

For months, the only place Fleur had visited outside of her home was the Burrow. She had dreamed of the places—warm, dry places—she would visit with Bill one day when the danger passed. Yet, here she was, underground, surrounded by concrete and rats. It had even rained on her as she and Bill walked through the streets. Fleur thought maybe she hated England on this night.

Perhaps there was no glamour in her surroundings, but there was certainly excitement. The dangerous kind that promised violence. Fleur surveyed the room, seeing new faces among the familiar. Oliver Wood huddled in a corner with Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet. These three had been quick to offer their services, and perhaps their lives. Her Bill was in conference with Kingsley and the Auror, Liam Williamson. He was younger than Fleur had expected, and quite handsome. Remus was speaking with three new recruits to the Order. The young men Fleur did not know, but the girl was very recognizable to her. It was not so many years ago that Fleur had stood outside the Great Hall, the proud Champion from Beauxbatons, and Cho Chang had been on Cedric's arm. They were waiting to make their grand entrance to the Yule Ball, Cho had a look of awe on her face.

Fleur's thoughts turned to Cedric Diggory, Hogwart's Triwizard Champion and her friend. He had been a good man. So very brave and clever, he had a clear sense of right and wrong. If he had survived the Third Task, he would have been the first to join the Order of the Phoenix. It would be Cedric going out on a mission tomorrow night, not sweet Cho Chang.

Fleur tried to set aside her maudlin thoughts with a sigh. Tomorrow night, on the other side of the North Sea, another Champion would be waiting. Viktor Krum would receive the freed prisoners, take them into hiding among witches and wizards who had resisted Grindelwald a generation ago.

Where was the fourth Champion, Fleur wondered?

"I think everybody is here," Bill murmured behind Fleur.

"This is not so many people," Fleur said, turning to her husband.

"It will have to be enough. The Order is stretched thin already."

"Where is your family?"

"Kingsley wanted Fred and George and Lee Jordan prepared to make a broadcast if things go well," Bill replied. "Dad is leading a small raid on the other side of the country to act as distraction from our true mission."

"If I may have your attention."

Kingsley Shacklebolt stood at the top of the room, Liam Williamson slightly behind him. The black man did not raise his voice, yet all attention was directed to him. Months on the run had worn away some of Kingsley's elegance, but none of his presence. He was not so very tall, shorter than the man beside him in fact, but he radiated authority and kindness in equal measure. Fleur thought that was probably a rare combination, but she did not make the mistake of thinking of Kingsley as anything less than deadly. His kindness would not extend to those who sought to kill him or his people.

"Some of you may already know him, but allow me to introduce Auror Liam Williamson," Kingsley said, motioning to the young man beside him. "He has been smuggling information out of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement these last six months or so, and it is through his endeavors that we are here tonight."

Williamson stepped forward, bowing slightly.

"I'll let Auror Williamson begin the briefing."

Williamson cleared his throat. "There will be two prison vans, escorted by motorcycles. There will be twelve guards, seven of them Snatchers. Only five Aurors volunteered for this mission, myself being one of them. The rest are Death Eaters."

"That means we cannot count on any of the combatants to be on our side, or to back down," Kingsley added. "Be on your guard, and do not be afraid to use force."

"The convoy will leave the Ministry at midnight," Williamson continued, pointing to a mark on the map behind him. "We will rendezvous with the Dementors on the outskirts of Holywells Park in Ipswich. At that point, I'll blow the tires on the front van, that is your cue to move in."

"We will be hiding in the surrounding trees," Kingsley said, drawing a circle around another red dot on the map. "Our first order of business will be to neutralize the Dementors. Everybody is to cast their Patronus as they move into position. We don't have many fighters to spare, but I need two people with strong Patronuses to keep the Dementors at bay."

Kingsley looked expectantly out to the band of witches and wizards. Cho Chang's hand shot into the air, followed by Angelina's.

"We were taught by Harry Potter," Angelina said.

Remus smiled. "Then you will have been taught well."

"Excellent," Kingsley said. "It would be best if the prisoners remained in the vans—less chance of losing track of one of them as long as they're contained. From there Weasley—I mean, Percy Weasley will create a Portkey to transfer the prisoners to Clacton-On-Sea, where Audrey Sprayberry will be waiting to send them to their next destination."

There was a murmur through the chamber as the others located Percy and Audrey standing in the back. Percy nodded stiffly, he did not fidget, but only out of sheer force of will. His face was red, his mouth stiff. Next to him, Audrey placed a hand on his arm.

"I've got Percy's back," Oliver called. He stood with his legs spread, arms crossed over his broad chest. He was as immovable as a bull.

Next to Fleur, Bill relaxed. It was only a slight tic, only something a wife would notice. An unwinding of the shoulder muscles, a softening of the mouth. Small things. But Fleur knew that her husband was relieved that his little brother would be watched over by his friend. She was sorry to ruin that.

"And I will assist Audrey," Fleur said clearly, stepping forward. She glanced at Bill, his face was a mask, but his eyes were hard when he looked at her. He wanted her safe, she knew this, but she could not let it rule her. The Order of Mercy had been her creation—if it would end tomorrow night, then Fleur must be there to see it.

"Very good," Kingsley said with a nod before carrying on with his instructions.

The hour wore on so that it felt more like three, and yet dawn was nowhere to be seen as Fleur and Bill emerged from the hole in the ground into the street. The rain had stopped, but there was a chill in the air. Bill placed his coat around Fleur's shoulders, pulling her near.

He sighed, saying lightly, "You're going to be the death of me."

"I sincerely hope not," Fleur murmured, looking up at her husband. "It will be better zis way. I can protect Audrey while she works—"

Bill kissed Fleur, stopping her words. "I understand, and I wouldn't expect less from you. I might hope that you will act wisely, but I wouldn't have married a brave woman if I wanted her to hide at home when she could be protecting her friends and family."

oOo

"You should be sleeping." Audrey wrapped herself around Percy from behind.

"I could say the same to you," he murmured. He reached up to clasp her hand where it banded around his chest.

"Can't. You're worrying too loudly." She let her hands drift down his body, causing the expected reaction. "I could take care of that nervous energy for you."

Percy's mind was not to be distracted, however. Rolling so that he was facing Audrey in the darkness of the room, Percy didn't like admitting that he was nervous, but he was. They would be outnumbered in Holywells Park, and yet that didn't bother him as much as it probably should. He was a Weasley, he was used to being the underdog. It was the Dementors that concerned Percy, or more precisely, the need to conjure a Patronus.

The Patronus charm was a difficult spell, but Percy had mastered many difficult spells. Not this one, though. It wasn't the magic—with a heavy heart, he knew that wasn't the problem. It was the emotional aspect. Calling forth the right memory, holding it before his mind's eye, letting the emotion move him. It wasn't that he couldn't conjure a Patronus, he had on several occasions seen the silvery weasel like his father's. The problem was that Percy couldn't do so consistently, or for more than a moment. His happy memories never felt happy enough, and they flickered out of frame all too quickly.

And now he needed to produce his Patronus in battle, to protect himself and others. Fear already clawed at Percy's insides. What if he failed? What if a Dementor attacked somebody because his memory was inconsequential?

"Have you ever produced a corporeal Patronus?" Percy asked.

"Yes," Audrey said. "Moody was my professor seventh year—wait, that wasn't Moody, was it? Oh well, that imposter didn't teach us how to cast a Patronus, so Bill showed me. I think he was trying to impress Fleur."

Well, Percy would dearly love to have a few crash courses in Defensive magic with his brother, but there wasn't time for that. More than that, he wanted to ask Audrey what memory she used, but that wasn't done. It was such an intimate question that witches and wizards rarely spoke of it.

"Can you do it now?" Percy asked instead.

"Only if you don't take the mickey."

"Why would I do that?" Percy laughed, and grabbed his glasses from the bedside table.

With a sigh, Audrey rolled away from him, grabbing her wand off the bedside table. Lying on her back, she rotated her wand in the air and silver light shot out the end. A small dog formed, running around the bed, then coming to stand with its front paws on Audrey's hip, its tongue lolling out of its mouth and a bow atop its head.

"Is it a rat?" Percy asked.

"Percy! You promised."

He hadn't, but he wasn't going to argue the point.

"It's Lucy," she said. "My pet Yorkie from when I was a girl."

"You Patronus is a yappy little dog?"

"Per-cy!" The dog faded away. "Let's see yours then."

"It's a weasel," Percy said.

"Like a rat?"

Percy looked at her in the dark, smiling. "Touché."

"Well."

Percy picked up his wand. Several deep breaths, just to stall for time. He concentrated on Egypt. It wasn't the last time his family was together in one place, but it was different from the Quidditch World Cup when Percy had been so busy making a name for himself. Merlin, they'd had so much fun romping through pyramids and eating foreign foods. The night Bill took all of them out to a belly-dancing club had been the most fun Percy had ever had with all five of his brothers. Trying to remember the stupid looks on the twins' faces, and rotating his wand, Percy said the incantation softly.

Only a silver mist came from the end of his wand.

He tried again, picturing Ron's sheepish grin as the waitress ran her fingers across his shoulders. Percy received the same results.

"Gryffindor?" Audrey leaned into him. "You're thinking too hard."

Percy made a rude noise, snapping, "Of course I am! I'm concentrating on my happy memory, aren't I?"

"What memory are you using?"

He gaped up at his girlfriend where she was propped up on her elbow. Leave it to Audrey to disregard the niceties. Now he really wished he'd asked her the same question. He desperately wanted to know, and not just for academic reasons. He wanted to know Audrey's happiest moment, to try to imagine it along with her, to know every inch of her inside and out.

"Wh-when my family visited Bill in Egypt after Ginny was taken to the Chamber of Secrets," Percy answered weakly.

"Why that memory?"

Percy shrugged. "It was a good time. I learned a lot, and we had fun…my brothers and I."

"What about Ginny?"

"She was…quiet a lot that summer."

"Percy." Audrey touched his face. "What was it like—for you—when Ginny was taken to the Chamber of Secrets."

Horror like sleet covered Percy. He closed his eyes, remembering the despair he'd felt. Then, later, the utter sense of failure. He'd let his sister down, his whole family. That sense of failure had ridden right along with the relief he felt at Ginny's return. When Dad won that money and swept the family off to a sunnier local, he was all too happy to bury those feelings in the sand.

"One of the worst moments of my life," Percy answered.

"So, maybe that's not the right memory."

Percy nodded, panic swelling in his chest.

"You're thinking too hard again," Audrey said, laying her hand on his cheek. "Close your eyes."

Percy did as he was told.

"When do you feel happy?"

"Um…when—"

"No, hold it here." Audrey covered his heart with her hand, its beating ratcheting up double time. She whispered in his ear, "Don't picture your happiest memory, Gryffindor, feel it."

Then he understood. Percy wasn't looking for a happy memory, but the memory of happiness. He envisioned that golden bubble that formed in his heart anytime Audrey laughed. That was happiness, and just the memory of it felt like warmth pumping out of his heart through his veins.

"Expecto Patronum," Percy whispered, and felt the hum of energy jumping through his arm into his wand.

"Oh, Percy, look."

Opening his eyes, Percy's breath was knocked from his body. Sitting at the end of the bed was a large glowing dog with a flowing coat and a tail that thumped against the mattress. His Patronus had changed. Why a dog? He'd never owned a dog. In fact, his closest association with a canine had come with Auntie Muriel's awful poodle that liked to snarl at all of the children, or that large mongrel Oliver had when they were kids. That dog liked to knock Percy to the ground and lick his face.

"I think it's a golden retriever," Audrey said. She crawled to the end of the bed to inspect it more closely. "They are known for their intelligence, and their devotion, you know. Also, sometimes their coats can be reddish in color."

Audrey looked at Percy over her shoulder, her words lingering between them. He could own the red hair and intelligence, but devotion? Loyalty? Looking at Audrey, Percy could imagine it. He could certainly be devoted to her, if she'd let him. As for his family, what he wouldn't give to prove his faithfulness to them.

Just then, Audrey conjured her Patronus again. The yappy little dog ran a few laps around the golden retriever, then stuck her head between the bigger dog's hind legs. Audrey fell on the bed giggling.

"I think they're friends," she laughed.

"Who shag, apparently," Percy added, laughing himself. He felt the rush of happiness through his veins again, his Patronus glowing brighter. Happier still when he felt Audrey crawling over his body, kicking off the counterpane, and hooking her fingers in his waistband. "Got ideas, did you, minx?"

"Shut it, Gryffindor."

Notes:

I had so much fun researching for this chapter. The Down Street ghost station is a real place. If you want to see the pictures I used to create the setting, as well as a bit of background, visit www .abandonedstations.org.uk/Down_Street_station.

Percy references his time in Egypt, specifically the Weasley brothers' trip to a belly dancing club and the waitress flirting with Ron, comes from a story by Keeptheotherone called Hidden Chambers and Unseen Monsters. It's a great story, you should absolutely check it out.

Chapter 43

"Percy, time to go."

Audrey stuck her head into the loo where Percy was leaning against the basin, staring into the mirror as he Transfigured himself. He had darkened his hair, added a matching beard, and placed a glamor charm over his freckles. When he turned to Audrey, she hardly knew him, except for that serious look in his brown eyes.

"How'd I do?" he asked, putting his glasses on.

"No one will recognize you in the dark." She smiled, and purred, "In fact I rather like it, Stranger."

Percy leaned down and kissed her. "If all goes well, minx…"

When he would have pulled away, Audrey flung her arms around his neck and held him there, resting her head on his shoulder. She had tried to tell herself that this night's mission was like any other, but it wasn't. The stakes were higher, and she wasn't thinking of the fourteen prisoners they would be rescuing. Percy was at the heart of this plan. It was on him to battle his way into those prisoner vans, to transport the poor wretches to Clacton-On-Sea. He'd risked his life so many nights, skulking around the Ministry, yet on this night he was walking into mortal peril. It made Audrey's heart lodge in her throat just to think of it.

Percy's arms tightened around Audrey. "Alright there?"

No, nothing was alright. In fact, everything was quite topsy-turvy. She didn't like this worry, this caring she harbored for her overly tall, overly prideful, stupidly brilliant man. What a liar she was! "Caring" was such a weak word. And the truth was, she wanted to revel in this emotion she had for Percy, but she was so scared. This war had no end in sight, what if she lost him?

Audrey pulled back, forcing a small smile. "Stay safe."

"You, too."

Her fingers dug into his shoulders. "Don't do anything foolishly brave."

"I think you have the wrong Gryffindor—"

"Percy."

"If it means that much to you." He leaned down and kissed her nose. "I'll leave the hero stuff to Bill and Oliver, shall I?"

Audrey didn't feel relieved.

oOo

Bill had lived briefly in the bustling city of Cairo, where Muggle lights hummed from dusk until dawn, eclipsing the stars and keeping the darkness at bay. However, most of his life had been spent in the country, where the dark was a heavy mantle lying over the houses and tucked between the trees. The stars above silvery adornments always out of reach. On this night, in this darkness, Bill was crouched behind a tree with blood singing through his veins. Nine other witches and wizards stood somewhere in this forest, in this same darkness, doing just as Bill was doing: waiting.

Bill, however, was not worrying. Not because he didn't have things to worry about, but because he refused to be crippled by his concerns. His little brother was somewhere in this tree stand. His wife was on a desolate beach less than thirty miles away, and yet it may as well be the other side of the country. Which was where his father was, with a small band of Order members, creating a diversion. Bill did not dwell on any of this. He rolled that information into a small nugget and tucked it away for a time when he could worry about it. This was not that time.

A haze of clouds swooped in, brining with it a skin-biting chill. The worry tried to crowd Bill's mind, but he pushed back, looking up at the now starless sky. Not clouds, Dementors. They swirled above the forest clearing like shite being sucked down the toilet. The image struck Bill as irreverent—he held it close as he gripped his wand tighter.

oOo

"Won't be long now," Oliver murmured into Percy's ear.

The pair hunkered down between a thick oak and a tall, thin evergreen. For Percy's part, he was reviewing the incantations he would need, practicing the coordinates that would land the prisoners on the beach in Clacton-On-Sea, inventorying his supplies. The entrance of the Dementors drove those recitations from Percy's head. His thoughts grew foggy, painful images trying to crowd into his mind. Yet, it wasn't his row with his father or his break-up with Penny that Percy dwelled on. He kept seeing Oliver's tear-stained face the night his brothers died.

Percy looked at his friend, burly body ready to spring into action, to defend Percy with the same ferocity that he defended the Quidditch rings. It hadn't surprised Percy when Oliver volunteered to act as his bodyguard. In fact, he'd expected it. Maybe that was why they hadn't spoken of it.

"I think I know why your mother didn't want you to join the Order," Percy whispered.

Oliver didn't move.

"I'd hate to—"

"Percy." Oliver turned his head in the other man's direction. "Keep whatever maudlin shite you're about to say to yourself, aye?"

Percy smiled, some of the dark thoughts pushed out of his mind. "Well. Try to stay alive, git. I would hate to be the one to tell your mother that you're dead."

"Same for you, prat."

The pair fell into silence as two white blurs rushed into the clearing. They screeched to a halt, two vans and eight motorcycles. Red robes marked three of the figures as Aurors. The other two Aurors must be inside the vans. It was important to draw them out of the vehicles, though stunning spells would do in a pinch. Percy gripped his wand tighter, the wood biting into his palm. The need for action cleared his mind.

oOo

BOOM!

That was the signal. For a moment everything was in slow motion. Bill was aware of the blood pumping out of his heart, the perfect clarity of his brain, the burn of his quads as he rushed forward. The people in the clearing stood frozen. The Dementors springing back. Doors opened on the first van, two guards stepping out. Then everything sped up.

Bill ran flat out, bellowing the incantation before his wand arm thrust forward. A silvery lion burst into existence, joining its mates, charging at the Dementors. The prison guards shook off their shock. The two who had exited the first van began to climb back in, but Remus Lupin stunned one and the Sparrow kid got the other. Two down, and that would aid Percy's mission.

Thoughts of Percy didn't have time to lodge. A man in black rushed at Bill, sneering, but was quickly dismissed. Duels were taking place all over the glen, many of them two on one. The Dementors had not rebounded, kept at bay by an elegant swan and a fierce harpy. Kingsley and Jack Macmillan were trying to draw out the guards of the second van, but they remained entrenched behind a steel door.

"I know you."

Bill stunned the Snatcher before him and whipped around. Another Snatcher in a long leather coat, his pointy white teeth glinting in the dark. There was something familiar about this filth, but Bill wasn't going to waste time on him. He flung a stunning spell at the man, who deflected it with a simple Protego. From the corner of his eye, Bill saw Percy dash to the first van, flinging open the side door.

"Aren't you curious?" the other man taunted, circling Bill.

"Not particularly." Bill crouched low, preparing his next attack.

"You colored your hair," the Snatcher tsked. "Pathetic attempt at disguise, really. Especially when you have a face full of scars that mark you as Greyback's bitch."

Bill's finger twitched around his wand. He wasn't going to be so easily distracted.

"The one with the lovely half-breed wife."

That got Bill's attention.

"Tried to take a bite out of her few months back."

"And you found she bites back," Bill snarled, a silent blasting curse shot from his wand.

The man deflected the spell, sending it back at Bill who ducked it.

Rage discharged a second volley of adrenaline through Bill's body. Scabior—the cretin who had attacked Fleur back in October. The filth had become infamous for his viciousness when rounding up Muggle-borns.

Bill battered the man with blasting curses, bashing his shield charm and driving him back.

"Not so great one-on-one, are you?" Bill sneered. Seconds later, he dodged a green jet. Yelling, Bill sent his Patronus through Scabior's defenses, knocking the man on his arse.

oOo

Blue light flared to life as the Portkey carried away the seven prisoners. Percy had only a moment to study the faces but hadn't found Luna Lovegood among them, only the vaguely familiar wives and children of co-workers. Two of them under ten, he would guess. He scrubbed his mind of useless distraction. No time for that now.

Throwing open the van door, Percy found Oliver in heated battle with two Snatchers. Percy stunned one, and Oliver blasted the other off his feet. The other van was hardly a yard away, but it may as well have been a league. Between here and there two Aurors battled Order members, a Snatcher stood guard by the van door, and Kingsley and Sparrow were still trying to dispatch the guards inside.

"Let's go!" Percy shouted.

He followed Oliver through the fray. Dirt and screams pummeled them as they hurtled towards the van. A man in a dirty cloak rushed at them, but Oliver felled him with a neat Stunning spell.

The fighting was more intense around the second van. Alicia Spinnet came to help Sparrow, but they were battling a Death Eater twice their age and experience. Percy was just wondering if a Stunning spell would pass through the windshield when it exploded, shards of glass flying in all directions, the men inside flinging their hands in front of their faces for protection. Oliver's wand was pointing directly at the van.

"Spinnet!" Oliver barked at his old Chaser, who jumped onto the hood of the van and stunned both occupants.

"Bloody hell, Ollie," Percy muttered.

"Let's get you in that van."

oOo

A few dozen miles and a world away, Fleur labored to collect the names of each newly freed prisoner. Men and women, young children. Hollowed, starved cheeks, and frightened eyes. Fleur's stomach clenched as she leaned in to hear the thin voice of the elderly woman sat in the sand.

"Agnes." A cold breeze and the woman shivered. "L-Lumpquist."

Fleur cast a warming charm around the woman. "You are safe now, Madame."

"M-m-my Herb. He must be worried sick!"

"We will tell him. He will know you are safe."

The woman began crying. "Bless you."

"The Portkey is almost ready," Audrey warned.

Fleur squeezed the woman's hand but moved onto the next person. He was not a child, but not yet a man. His face might have been handsome once, but now it was sallow, the cheekbones cutting through the night in his pale face. Dark, shaggy hair lie unwashed against his head, and stubble grew patchily on his jaw.

"You're the Champion."

Fleur looked into haunted eyes. "Oui. Should I know you?"

He shook his head. "I was a scrubby fourth year. You put the dragon to sleep, but it still almost got you."

"Set my ridiculous skirt afire. I begged Madame to let me wear trousers."

A ghost of a smile, and Fleur knew with certainty that this boy was handsome in another life.

"What is your name?" she asked.

The next words came with practiced pride that even months of incarceration could not wear away. "Justin Finch-Fletchley."

The quill trembled in Fleur's hand. She looked at the young man before her, seeing not a wraith but the proud boy in black and gold school robes at King's Cross. This was him, the brave one who defied the Death Eaters all those months ago. She had thought him dead, and maybe death was inches away, but here he stood. Emotion squeezed Fleur's chest, forcing tears to her eyes.

She took one bony hand and pressed a kiss to it. "I have worried for you," she whispered. "You are very brave and very foolish."

Justin Finch-Fletchley with the very English name stared back at her in bewilderment. "Cheers."

"It's time!" Audrey called.

Fleur kissed Justin on each cheek. "Be well, mon ami, be well."

oOo

Bill flung up a shield charm just in time to deflect dirt and grass from pelting him. When the smoke cleared, bloody Scabior was gone. Cursing, Bill rushed into the heat of the battle. He could see one van door standing wide open, empty inside. Half-way home. All Percy had to do was free the prisoners in the other van and the Order could retreat.

Casualties lie around the other van, Oliver and the Sparrow kid dueling with two Death Eaters and a Snatcher. Where there was Oliver Wood, Percy Weasley would not be far away. Bill kept his eyes on the van, dashing in that direction, only to be hit with a ramming jinx.

Bill flew through the air, casting a cushioning charm to soften his landing at the last moment. He rolled, stopping beside the empty van with a grunt. Pushing to all fours, Bill looked to the other van again, his only concern was getting to Percy. Bill didn't see the man in red Auror robes until he was already on top of him. Hastily, Bill cast a shield, but was rammed into the dirt with another jinx.

No distractions.

Closing his mind to all other concerns, Bill pushed to his knees again, curses ready before he pointed his wand. A blast from Bill's wand hit the Auror square in the chest, slamming him into the side of the van. He crumpled to the ground like a ragdoll.

Bill climbed to his feet, his mind already on the second van and his brother. He could see that Oliver was fighting alone, Sparrow and the Snatcher at his feet unmoving. Blue light escaped the seams of the van for one instant, then the door opened, thrusting Percy into the fray.

That was it! Percy had done it! All the prisoners were safely away. Victory surging in his veins, Bill looked around for Kingsley to signal an end to their mission, but he already knew. Their leader was running towards Percy, calling for retreat.

That's when everything slowed.

A great, billowing roar reverberated through the glen seconds before flame shot out from the wand of the Auror dueling Percy. He dodged, his robes catching fire. Blood rushed inside Bill's brain. He raced forward on legs that could not move fast enough. The flame was oversized, the heat monstrous. It contorted in orange anger through the black night. Fiendfyre. Percy fell to the ground.

Later, Bill would reflect that he could remember every instant of the next few moments. Sound had ceased, except for the thud of his own heart. Oliver smashed his opponent with curses and jinxes until the man's shield was broken and he lie immobile in a Full Body Bind. The van caught fire, flaming chimeras and dragons snapping at the stars. Kingsley was there first. He ended the Fiendfyre with a charm and stunned the Death Eater who'd cast it. Then Bill was there. He cast the charm to extinguish his brother's flaming back.

Then everything sped up and Bill wished for silence because the night was filled with his brother's screams. What had felt like hours had only been seconds. Percy was alive, his disguise gone, his robes burnt away and his back a mass of red meat. Bill wanted to vomit.

"Fucking hell." Oliver stunned Percy.

"Take him to Shell Cottage." Decisions lined up in Bill's mind like soldiers. He needed to get Fleur, and hope she knew what to do for his little brother. An instant later, Oliver was cradling Percy's body gingerly, then he Disapparated.

Bill spun on his heel, tugged into a whirlpool of nothingness.

Chapter 44

Notes:

On several occasions while writing OOM I needed to explore magic that we read about in the books, such as Fiendfyre. Unfortunately, despite re-readings and researching HP Lexicon and Pottermore, there are often few details beyond what JKR gives us in the books. In the end, I had to be creative. The details of Percy's injury are largely made up by me with a bit of research into the nature of burns and their medical care. It was a challenge, as I would not say that world-building is high on my list of talents. I hope this chapter seems possible within the world I'm working.

Disclaimer: The world and characters (most of them) belong to JK Rowling.

Bill landed on the beach with a thud. Recalcitrant clouds crowded before the stars, leaving only a few jars of blue flames lighting the group huddled by the sea. A cold wind stung Bill's skin and eyes. His battered heart was in the clutches of a cruel vice inside his chest, robbing him of breath and speech, but he trudged forward, searching for his wife amongst the rabble. She found him first.

"Bill?"

With an iron will, Bill pushed the last few moments in all their gory detail aside. His eyes latched onto Fleur, and he forced his mind to consider only what needed to be done at that very moment. Get Fleur. Save Percy. Help Audrey. He'd deal with the rest later.

"What has happened?" Fleur's face was pinched with worry.

"It's Percy," Bill said, proud of the steadiness of his voice.

"Percy?" Audrey gasped.

Dammit, Bill hadn't seen the other witch until it was too late. Audrey was rushing forward, dinner knife in one hand and wand in the other, her eyes big in her pale face. Without thought, Bill caught the little witch by the arms.

"He's been hurt. Fiendfyre."

Twin gasps. Tears pooled in Audrey's eyes.

"I need you to go home," Bill said to Fleur. "Oliver took him there. We'll finish up here and follow." He looked Audrey in the eye. "Won't we?"

She nodded her head, saying to Fleur, "Hurry, please."

oOo

A cold drizzle sprayed Fleur's face as she raced up the porch steps to her back door ahead of Oliver who was struggling with the burden slung over his shoulder. Fleur threw open the door, lighting the overhead lanterns. In the months since her wedding, Fleur had healed an Auror on the run, tended a sick Weasley, and delivered a baby. Each time she questioned if she was up to the task before her, and yet somehow she had done what was needed. This time she wondered if she was out of miracles. Fiendfyre. Fleur shivered, then pointed her wand at her butcher's block and enlarged it.

"Put him zere," she ordered briskly, barely glancing at the burly Scotsman or her patient. She rushed to her stillroom, yanking the healing text down and fumbling through the pages until she found the entry she was looking for.

Fiendfyre is a particularly vicious curse….

Her eyes skimmed the words three times before she realized that her brain had not retained a single detail. Closing her eyes, Fleur pressed her hands to her cheeks. She did not know where to begin. Burns she could heal without thought, but these were curse wounds. Fleur took deep breaths, willing her muddled mind to clear. She thought of her maman, who always encouraged Fleur to trust in nature. But what did nature have to do with Dark Magic? Non, there was no nature in this kind of evil. Fleur would have to trust her skills as a witch. She was powerful, but so very young. She felt that now.

Blowing out one last breath, Fleur opened her eyes and looked at the text again.

Severe burns are common, often eviscerating every layer of skin to the bone. Other burns, still quite serious, cause severe nerve damage. Their appearance can vary from charred to leathery to white and waxy.

"What can I do?"

Oliver Wood stood in the door, his face smudged with dirt and smoke. His big hands were clasped in front of him, as if he was trying to hold something together. He was a mountain trying not to crumble.

Say a prayer. But Fleur did not say this aloud, it was too cruel. She wished he would go away. There was a dull sadness about him, as if all of his emotions had been balled up and crammed into the furthest corner of his gut. It was suffocating. Yet, Fleur felt the weight of those emotions, a reminder of what was needed of her. A reminder that the patient in her kitchen was somebody she had grown to love. That in a moment, she would have to walk into that room, and look at his grievous injuries, and pretend that she knew what she was doing.

Lastly, what would normally be considered less severe, are the painful, blistering burns.

Screaming had both of them dashing into the kitchen.

Wisps of black smoke curled up from Percy's back as he struggled to climb off the butcher's block.

It is within these blisters that curse residue can collect, causing smoking and flames.

"Aguamenti!" Fleur shouted. Nothing. The smoking blister burst, tiny flames spreading across Percy's skin as he screamed louder. Fleur tried a freezing charm but that did not work either.

"It's Fiendfyre," Oliver snapped.

With just the memory of what she had read in the book, Fleur cast the counter curse and the flames extinguished. Oliver stunned Percy again, who collapsed heavily on the wood top. Sudden silence filled the house, leaving Fleur and Oliver to stare at each other.

"What the hell?" he muttered.

"Curse residue," Fleur whispered. "Zee book says...it collects inside the blisters and if I do not clean it all away zee flames will reignite until…"

Fleur did not need to elaborate, they both understood the consequences if she failed. Looking at Percy's back, Fleur swallowed harshly. His shoulders bore the ravished leathery look of the more severe burns, but his lower back was flame red and covered in shiny blisters. There should be a Healer here to tend to Percy's body, but that was not to be. There was only she, Fleur, a girl playing at Healer. She would try, and hope it was enough.

Summoning her healing text from the stillroom, Fleur stared at the open pages. This book—the one she had relied on so heavily from one emergency to the next—it was useless. It gave her only the meanest instruction of what to do for her patient. For Percy. It was into this uselessness that the backdoor opened.

Nymphadora Tonks trundled in, heavily pregnant and pink-haired. Remus followed in her wake, stoic and kind.

"Remus said you had a spot of trouble," Tonks said. Her eyes were on Percy's scorched skin, but her tone was light.

"Kingsley told me about Percy after the battle. I thought you could use all the help you could get," Remus explained.

"Merci."

"I'm good at potions and curses," Tonks offered, and pointed at her husband. "He's good for all of the swotty stuff. What do you need us to do?"

oOo

"I need you to slow down and make sure you've followed each step precisely. Don't want this lot to end up in the middle of the North Sea."

Audrey glared at Bill. The number of Portkeys she had created in the last months was greater than the number of hair ties that Bill Weasley owned. She could do this spell in her sleep. Was she emotionally compromised? Yes. Did that make her incompetent? Maybe. Her mind felt like a funhouse. It was dark and seemingly empty, but there were boxes set about, trip over one and unleash the horrors inside.

Miles away, Percy lie injured. How injured? Audrey couldn't even imagine it. How many people survived Fiendfyre? The number must be small. She wanted to ask Bill how badly Percy was hurt, what his chances of survival were, but she didn't. She couldn't open that box yet. It all felt too unreal, maybe that was why she hadn't cried yet.

And she hadn't told Percy that she loved him.

Audrey didn't know the precise moment it happened—probably because she was too daft to recognize love when it was staring her in the face—but it had happened some time over the last few weeks all the same. It grew so large inside of her that on an average Tuesday she couldn't look at Percy reading on the settee without her heart swelling with emotion. Until finally, finally, Audrey could no longer deny it. She loved Percy Weasley.

The Audrey who read romance novels longed to feel that emotion. The Audrey who was overlooked by every man in her life feared it. As it turned out, the romantic was right. Loving Percy wasn't scary. It was like putting a healing balm on all the sore spots in her soul. It made her feel beautiful and wanted, like she belonged.

Why hadn't she told him?

Dammit, she'd tripped over one of those boxes. She dragged her thoughts away from those horrors, unable to stuff them back into their container. Percy was injured. Fleur was tending to him, and Oliver was with him. The sooner Audrey made this Portkey, the sooner she could go to Percy. She looked at Bill, who wanted her to concentrate on each step of creating a Portkey. She could do that.

Narrowing her focus to the task before her, Audrey cast the spell. She watched as each of the soon-to-be refugees placed a finger on Fleur's good silver and whirled away in a flash of blue light. Then Audrey was left standing next to Bill on a cold and desolate beach.

"How bad is it?" Audrey asked, not looking at the scarred man beside her.

"I'm not a Healer…" Bill said. "Bad, I think. Here, let me Disapparate you."

Moments later, Audrey and Bill appeared on another beach, showered by a cold rain. Shell Cottage sat perilously on the cliff in the distance, its warm glow beckoning them in from the wet. There was nothing out of the ordinary in this scene. The sand, the rain, the cold wind, the rushing sea, all perfectly normal. Nothing to indicate that a young man fought for his life inside the quaint, little house. No one would guess that a young woman's heart was breaking.

Numb to the rain, Audrey dashed blindly across the sand, a rumbling in her head growling a warning: You know all those tightly closed boxes? Better get ready, we're going to pry them open! She was battered by the fear and doubts she'd been keeping at bay. What if Percy died? What if he survived? Would he be crippled? Scarred? Could she look at those scars, touch them? All of her flaws and weaknesses pressed in on her. What if the sight of Percy repulsed her?

Her hand grasped the handrail, her foot pounding onto the second step to the porch when a scream blasted her. Shouts followed. Audrey's heart trembled. She burst into the kitchen, its bright light blinding her for a moment before her eyes adjusted. Voices, however, swamped her ears. She could hear Fleur muttering in French under the dulcet tones of Professor Lupin reading aloud. A third, unknown voice was snapping questions.

When she could see again, Audrey noted that the stranger's voice belonged to a pink-haired witch who looked about ready to give birth. The three of them were huddled around the butcher's block where a pair of wingtips hung over the end. Percy. Audrey's knees went weak, but she stumbled forward anyways.

"Gryffindor?"

Fleur looked up in surprise.

A flash of red, tenderized meat.

"Audrey?" Fleur's eyes bounced from Audrey to a point behind her. "Bill, get her out of my kitchen!"

Strong hands wrapped around Audrey's upper arms, pulling her away.

A bare, freckled arm dangled limply off the side of the butcher's block.

"But…."

A glimpse of ginger curls. Eyes squeezed shut. Where were Percy's glasses?

She stumbled from the light of the kitchen into the darkened foyer, caught in the strong arms of Oliver Wood. In no way had she been prepared for what she saw in the kitchen. Audrey knew that Percy would be gravely hurt, but the glimpse she'd had of his back looked scarcely human. Her stomach roiled at the memory, and she closed her eyes, feeling a sheen of sweat cover her body. She was going to lose him.

"No crying, aye?" Oliver murmured, patting her back.

Audrey buried her head in his chest, wiping at her damp face. She tried to find comfort in Oliver's familiar oafishness, but there was none. She didn't want his burly arms around her, she wanted Percy's wiry strength. That made her want to cry more. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she pushed down the emotion. Tears didn't serve anyone, least of all Percy.

Pulling her head out of Oliver's chest, she looked to where Bill was speaking with the pink-haired woman. The woman wasn't tall, and her large belly made her seem squat compared to Bill's lean height. Both of them had their heads bent together, faces serious and words quiet. At one point, Bill's eyes slid shut as if he were in pain. Audrey's hands curled into fists.

"What now?" she asked when the pink-haired woman lumbered back to the kitchen.

Bill looked up. It was hard to make out his expression in the dimness of the foyer, but his voice was heavy. "We wait."

And so they did. They settled into the sitting room, no tea, no candles, just a fire in the hearth. Time stretched before them in horrific slowness. Oliver, his body built for action, paced. Bill sat on the edge of the coffee table, facing the kitchen as if he were keeping an eye on his younger brother. Audrey huddled into a chair, willing her mind to nothingness. The silence of waiting was punctuated with alarmed screeches that caused the three occupants of the sitting room to tense for impact.

Finally, Professor Lupin walked in.

Bill sprung to his feet. "Remus?"

"It's not good," the older man said. "We're having trouble cleaning away the curse residue, and it's taking too long. Infection is setting in…. Frankly, it's beyond our training. He needs a Healer."

Audrey could hear the sympathy in the professor's words. He wasn't simply giving Bill the facts of Percy's condition, Lupin was offering his condolences. Something thick and black tried to wiggle into Audrey's heart, but she expelled it. They weren't giving up on Percy this easily.

"So we take him to St. Mungo's," Oliver said. He was rooted by the hearth.

"We could," Lupin said hesitantly, glancing at Oliver. "But it's a risk. They'll have Aurors stationed there—they always do—but they'll be searching for anybody related to tonight's raid, and Percy's injuries will be suspicious."

Bill nodded. "So, we let him die or consign him to Azkaban? Those are our choices?"

"I think, perhaps, you should fetch your mother."

Bill went to touch his face, but made a fist at the last moment. "This isn't the reunion he wanted."

"I'm sorry," Lupin murmured.

"Dammit," Oliver swore. "There are enough brilliant minds in this bloody house to come up with a better plan than to watch Percy fucking die."

"There's another way." Audrey's words floated into the room, hardly disturbing the resignation that had settled there, but she knew what she had to do. Oliver was right, they couldn't just sit back and watch, but they didn't have to risk a trip to hospital either. Jumping up from the chair, she whipped Bill around to look at her. "My brother-in-law, he's a Healer."

"Who's that?" Lupin asked.

"Lance Pucey," Audrey replied, not sparing a look for her old professor. She concentrated on the man before her. She was going for Lance with or without Bill, but she could tell from the way his eyes bore into her that he was already latching onto her plan. "His specialty is Spell Damage."

"The Death Eaters have been leaning on Pucey for months," Lupin warned.

Audrey whirled around to glare at Lupin. "Lance is no Death Eater."

"Are you sure?" Bill asked.

"I'm willing to stake Percy's life on it, aren't I?"

Bill nodded. "Let's go."

Lupin was warning Bill that time was of the essence, but Audrey was already collecting her cloak and rushing for the front door. How many hours until dawn? Not many now. They would wake her brother-in-law and sister, but Audrey couldn't bring herself to care. For the first time since she'd heard Bill say that Percy was injured, Audrey felt she was doing something more than worrying.

oOo

The Pucey family was something of an enigma. Solidly entrenched in the moneyed pureblood society that produced so many Death Eaters, and yet artfully neutral on all things. Where they came down on the issue of blood status, or even You-Know-Who, was anyone's guess. Naturally, this caused people on all sides to view them with suspicion, and yet they coasted along on old money and an older name. Bill couldn't say that he was especially pleased to be walking up the path to the stately home of one of the Pucey sons, but he was desperate.

The Fiendfyre had flared up again before he walked out the door. Bill had heard the pain in his brother's screams, seen the strain in his wife's face as she tried to keep Percy alive. Things were dire, and Bill was glad for a solution that didn't require a complicated plan to get in and out of St. Mungo's intact. Nor one that involved his mother. After everything, Mum and Percy deserved a better reunion than a deathbed. Dad, too.

Ahead of Bill, Audrey skipped up the steps and banged on a Slytherin green door. He wanted to trust Audrey's assessment of her brother-in-law, but sometimes people were blinded to the faults of the ones they loved. Regardless, as Bill gripped his wand inside his cloak pocket and stared up at the three-quarter moon, he had come this far and he wasn't turning back now.

He'd pushed down all of his emotions, concentrating solely on what others needed of him, but Bill could feel the whirlpool of despair that wanted to suck him down. What was waiting for him was something beyond worry. Worry was looking after a sick sibling. What Bill felt was grief like a shroud. He was close to losing Percy, that fact never left his mind.

Audrey beat on the door again, but this time it opened almost immediately. Standing on the other side was a handsome man a few years older than Bill, his dark hair mussed from sleep and an expensive dressing gown gaping open. A light flickered behind the man, and Bill caught sight of a small woman with hair lighter in color than Audrey's.

"Lance," Audrey said breathlessly. "I need your help."

"Audi?"

Lance Pucey was pushed aside by his wife, who was pulling Audrey into a hug.

"Kitty, I need Lance," Audrey said, hanging onto her sister.

"Whatever for?" Kitty's eyes were on Bill over Audrey's shoulder. "Come inside."

They were ushered into a small, elegant entry. Pucey and his wife were eyeing Bill like a rat in the pantry. Fair enough. Bill was eyeing them like snakes ready to strike. Audrey seemed oblivious to it all. She was like a little girl, blurting out all her troubles and asking for help.

"Slow down, love," Kitty said. "I can't understand a word you're saying."

Audrey took a deep breath. "I've been working with an organization to smuggle Muggle-borns abroad."

Kitty didn't look surprised.

"Tonight…" Audrey's voice hitched. "Something went terribly wrong. O-one of our associates was injured—Fiendfyre—a-and he's going to die if Lance doesn't help him."

"And you can't take him to hospital, I suppose," Kitty said, taking Audrey's hands.

Audrey shook her head.

Pucey looked at Bill, then at his sister-in-law. "I suspect you know the kind of pressure I've been under. What you're asking me to do puts both of your sisters and your nieces in a lot of danger. If the Death Eaters find out that I've cooperated with the Resistance…."

"Please!" Audrey pulled away from her sister to beseech Pucey, her face wet with tears and her eyes wide. "It's—he—His name is Percy, and I love him."

For the first time, Bill thought maybe Audrey was right to place her trust in Pucey. At her declaration, some of the stiffness melted off the man. He looked at Audrey like she was a fond pet, and maybe she was. She must have been very young when Pucey married into the family.

"Lance," Kitty said. It was a tone of voice that Bill was just coming to recognize, as a newly married man. "You've cursed your family's neutrality many times. Maybe this is what you need to do, as a man, and not as a son."

Pucey was listening, his features tight. "It's one thing for me to take these risks, but what of you and Caro? Sarah and the girls?"

"We can offer you protection," Bill said.

The two men stared at each other. Bill knew just one thing about Lance Pucey personally, and that was that the man had been Head Boy when Bill was in third year. He had no memory of Pucey other than that, but it was something they had in common. Typically, Head Boy was chosen not for his marks, but his intelligence and leadership. That could take many forms—Bill hoped Pucey's came from a place of compassion.

A long moment stretched as Pucey made calculations. Finally with stiff shoulders, he said, "These are my demands."

Audrey gasped. "Lance!"

He looked at her for a moment, then back at Bill. "I wasn't a Slytherin for nothing. I look for opportunity, and I seize it. You are Bill Weasley, Curse Breaker."

Bill nodded.

"I want my wife, her sister, and the children taken to the Continent for the duration of the war."

"I'll make it happen."

Pucey glanced at his wife, who was stone faced. "I want a Fidelius charm on my family home, I trust you can do that."

"Of course."

"And I'll offer you something you weren't asking for." Pucey took a deep breath, looking at his wife. "A reckoning is coming, I think we all know it. Potter will show up again, and the Dark Lord will go after him. When the time comes, you'll have my services as a Healer."

In that moment, Bill knew that Pucey would help Percy. Relief spilled over him. He knew Percy wasn't out of the woods yet, but he had a chance. Pucey was kissing his wife, who ran up the stairs. Then a black, leather bag flew through the air into the man's hand. He was asking questions about the curse that Bill answered without thought.

"Well," Pucey said, hand on the door. "Let's save this man you love, Audi."

Chapter 45

 

 

 

Fleur wiped her arm across her forehead, glancing at the kitchen clock. Three hours, that was how long she had worked to save the life of Percy Weasley, but she had given up an hour ago. Now, it was enough to keep him alive, she hoped. Wherever Bill and Audrey went, Fleur hoped they returned soon because she did not know if she could keep Percy alive much longer.

It was with a familiar feeling that Fleur met the limits of her magic and intelligence. She may as well be facing Grindylows in the Black Lake all over again for as much use she proved to be. Only the dangers were not imaginary this time. When Fleur failed—and that moment was nearing, for she was so very tired—Percy would die.

Across from Fleur, Remus was murmuring his own spells, adding his magic in the effort to save Percy. Behind him, Tonks sat heavily on a chair, Oliver rooted like a sentry at the door. All of them praying for the quick return of the others.

"Fleur?"

She looked up from her patient. There was a clatter at the front door, then a strange man came striding into her kitchen, bearing a leather bag stamped in gold with the Healer's coat of arms. Behind this invader was her Bill looking very determined.

"Did you kidnap a Healer, Weasley?" Tonks asked.

"Not exactly," Bill replied, a small smile touched his lips.

Remus fell back as the Healer took his position over Percy. The man's face was inscrutable as he performed an examination. Did he think Percy would live? Die? There was no telling. Fleur did not like that in the least.

"Have you been working on Mr. Weasley?" the Healer asked, glancing at Fleur.

"Oui."

The man nodded. "You've done very well. Have you any Healer training?"

"Non. Unless you count keeping my husband's brothers alive."

"Hm, well, with a family as large as the Weasleys, that probably qualifies you. Perhaps you'll consider a career in magical healing after all of this unpleasantness."

Fleur glanced at Bill, whose eyes were shining with pride. It was her turn for small smiles.

"Alright," the Healer said, straightening. "Everybody out of the kitchen. This will take some time, and I'll have no interruptions or hysterics." He looked directly at Audrey on the last word, then turned his eyes to Fleur. "You'll assist."

"Mais oui. As if I would leave my patient to you! I do not even know you!"

"Lance Pucey, and we are going to save this man's life."

Hours more as potions were applied and charms cast. Fleur thought maybe she had never been so tired, or so proud, in her life. The sun was threatening outside the kitchen windows as finally a smile touched Lance Pucey's lips. It was in that moment that Fleur knew for sure that Percy was saved. The Healer cleaned away the curse residue with a series of charms that Fleur tried to memorize. Then he healed the blisters so that they were no more than shiny, pink scars. The scarring across Percy's shoulders proved more difficult.

Pucey sighed as he surveyed his work. "A curse wound can never be fully mended, but I suspect you know that."

Red, raw skin rippled across Percy's shoulders. After many applications of Extra-Strength Skin Renewal Potion, Pucey had managed to contain the worst of the scaring to Percy's shoulders. Bright red, mottled skin stretched tight. Pucey even managed to restore some of the nerve endings, but Fleur wondered if that was for the best.

"Infection is still a concern," Pucey said, pulling vials from his Healer's bag. "He'll need his wounds cleansed several times a day for at least the next week, and a dose of this with every meal. He'll also need a teaspoon of the Skin Renewal Potion—it'll be a painful process, but if we can get the wound to scar over the chance of infection will decrease."

Fleur nodded, rubbing an anti-inflammatory salve into her brother-in-law's skin with trembling fingers. This night could have ended so differently. She had known that as she labored to keep Percy alive, and yet it was only now that the weight of it settled on her.

"However, the scar tissue will limit his range of motion. He'll need an aloe rub everyday for the rest of his life to keep the skin pliable." Pucey sighed, setting out another pot. There was a line of bottles sitting on the worktop signifying the long journey Percy must undertake.

"Should we wake him?" Fleur asked.

"Yes, but slowly." Pucey produced another vial from his Healer's bag, waving it under Percy's nose. Fleur held her breath.

"Mm." Percy's eyes blinked. His voice was gravely, "Bloody hell."

"Percy?" Fleur knelt so that she could look into his face. "Are you in pain?"

"Yes…bearable…. Where are my glasses?"

Fleur looked around. She could remember taking them off in those first frantic moments after Remus and Tonks arrived. She gave up looking and Summoned the blasted spectacles, putting them on his face.

"Better?"

"Yes. Thirsty."

Fleur used her wand again, jumping at the sound of Bill's voice at the doorway, and splashing water all over Percy.

"Do we have a miracle?"

"Oui." Fleur smiled up at her husband.

"A wet one," Percy grumbled, closing his eyes.

Bill took a deep breath. Fleur wondered how many hours it had been since his last.

"Don't go to sleep yet, little brother, there's somebody who will be very grateful to see you alive and kicking."

Percy's eyes flew open, and he croaked, "Not Mum?"

"Not Mum." Bill crouched by Fleur so he could look Percy in the eye. "Though, I won't lie, we were this close to calling her in."

"Almost dead?"

"Almost."

"Bloody hell."

"I reckon all your stubbornness finally served a purpose."

"My patient should really rest," Pucey said. He was wiping his hands dry on a tea towel. "After his ordeal, he's going to need a nice bed, water, and pain potions for a few days."

"Who's that?" Percy rasped.

"Your Healer, but I'll tell you about that later," Bill replied, standing up. "We have no intention of jeopardizing Percy's health, Pucey, but I think there'll be some people very glad to see him alive."

Pucey nodded, and Bill went to the sitting room, returning with a clutch of exhausted faces. Tonks and Remus hovered near the door, her arms wrapped around her belly and his hand on her shoulder. Oliver leaned one hand against the nearest worktop, his broad shoulders sagging. Fleur stepped away from her patient as Audrey pushed through the crowd to kneel by Percy's side.

"Hey," she whispered. There were tears on her face, and she placed a gentle hand on Percy's cheek.

He touched her face with fingers that trembled. "Hey, yourself."

"I-I forgot to tell you…I love you."

Percy looked at her for a moment, then whispered, "I love you, too."

Crying and smiling, Audrey kissed him though he barely moved from his prone position on the butcher's block.

"Well," Pucey cleared his throat. "And now I must insist that my patient have rest. Besides the pain potions, there will be a strict regiment of salves and potions. I've written it all down for Mrs. Weasley—"

Audrey glanced at Percy's back. "I can do that."

Pucey's eyebrows shot up. "Well, aren't you full of surprises. Moving on, I would prescribe a minimum of two weeks bed rest, but I doubt that you'll listen."

"Can't miss work," Percy said. "Ministry…suspicious."

"I'll go." Oliver cleared his throat, hands shoved into his trouser pockets. "Do we have any Polyjuice?"

"Of course," Tonks said brightly.

"I can go in Percy's place a few times, then pop a Fainting Fancy or Fever Fudge or something and beg off."

"Puking Pastille," Percy rasped.

"Anybody in particular you want me to puke on?"

"Make…list."

Soon the number of witches and wizards in Fleur's home dwindled. The Healer left after giving final instructions for Percy's care while Audrey supervised Percy's transfer to the guestroom above stairs. Remus and Tonks also went, though Remus returned with the Polyjuice Potion for Oliver, who left soon after. All of this happened, and Fleur cleaned her kitchen.

When finally it was quiet, Bill walked into the kitchen, leaning heavily against the worktop. Fleur could feel his eyes on her as she scrubbed her butcher's block. She was exhausted, and she knew Bill must be, too. She could not regret that state. As long as her mind was tired, she did not have to think about all of the things she had witnessed this night.

This night. It was meant to be the end of the Order of Mercy, and so it was. Fleur had thought she would feel something other than this dullness that was inside her now. Maybe not triumph—there was still so far to go—but elation, or maybe accomplishment. She did not feel any of those things. She felt nothing at all.

"I think we'll be meeting the sun this morning," Bill said quietly. He pressed his hands to his face.

"Do not do zat," Fleur said, less sharply than she might have done.

He dropped his hands. "Get your cloak, love, lets meet the sun properly."

Stopping what she was doing, Fleur looked around her kitchen. It was still a disaster. Bloody or scorched gauze littered the floor, potion bottles everywhere, her Healing book open on the nearby counter. She thought her lovely cottage by the sea was less a home, and more of a gruesome bed and breakfast. Fleur threw the sponge aside and hurried to the foyer to grab her cloak. Upon returning to the kitchen, she found her Bill standing by the door, holding out his hand to her. She was glad to take it.

They rushed to the beach like that, hand in hand, to the place where the sea met the sand, and came to a stop. Bill wrapped his arms around Fleur from behind, chin resting against her shoulder. The sun was in ascent, gloriously so with pinks and golds.

"You are amazing," Bill murmured into her ear.

Fleur sighed. "I do not feel amazing. I feel tired."

Bill was silent a moment then, with incredible hush, said, "I was afraid I would lose him."

"Me, too," Fleur admitted quietly. She remained very still, for she knew that Bill was opening his heart to her, and she did not want to frighten these small confidences away.

"It's a bit of a miracle that he survived Fiendfyre, isn't it?"

"Oui. You must have acted very quickly, or he would have surely been dead."

An emotion, soft and private, played around Bill's scared mouth. She no longer cared for the beauty of the sunrise. Fleur turned in Bill's arms, wrapping her own tightly around him and burrowing her head against his neck. He smelled of sweat and smoke, like life and death.

oOo

"Good evening, witches and wizards, we have some exciting news for you!" boomed Lee Jordan's voice from the wireless Bill had placed in Percy's room.

"Last night the Order of the Phoenix snatched a victory from the jaws of the Dark!" bellowed Fred.

"What my overly-dramatic friend is saying…."

Sitting in the guest bed at Shell Cottage, Percy spooned bouillon into his mouth as he listened to Potterwatch report last night's victory, including a list of the folks saved from Azkaban. They omitted the part where Percy nearly died, a fact he was rather glad of. It had been nearly twenty-four hours since he set out to ambush a prison transport. Percy had spent nearly the entire day since sleeping, and he was still tired. Although, Percy rubbed his bristly chin, he could use a shower and shave before he slept again.

Lee Jordan signed off by reminding everybody to stay safe, then the room was filled with static. It took a moment before Percy flicked his wand at the wireless to turn it off. He set the bowl on the tray beside his bed. Nearly dying must require an exorbitant number of calories, yet Percy didn't have much of an appetite. The broth and buttered bread more than filled him up.

He tried not to dwell on the nearly dying bit. He remembered eddies of excruciating pain followed by oceans of darkness. The part where he ceased to exist bothered him less than he thought it would. Death was a specter in his life that he'd hardly noticed, from his mum's grief for her brothers to the ghosts that haunted Hogwarts. Percy knew there would be something for him once he left this life, and while he wasn't welcoming it anytime soon, he realized that it scared him a good bit less than it probably ought for a man his age. What he knew in his soul was that it wasn't the other side that frightened him; it was the regrets on this side.

When he'd brought the food tray and the wireless, Bill told Percy that his part in last night's raid was being kept a careful secret, even from the rest of the family. That made sense. If Mum knew, she'd be here now, fussing over Percy. Something inside of Percy felt settled. He'd set out to prove himself to his brothers, to his father. Well, nearly dying in the cause seemed proof enough. Inwardly, Percy shook his head at that thought. Even to him it seemed extreme. Stupid and reckless. Quite possibly Nearly Dying In the Cause was the unofficial motto of Gryffindor House.

Now, sitting in this bed, grateful to be alive, Percy realized something new. Something about himself that he never understood until this moment. He wasn't merely looking for his father's acceptance, or his brothers' admiration. All along, Percy had needed to prove to himself that he was worthy of his family. Maybe even that he was worthy of his own respect. Percy had made a lot of mistakes. He trusted the wrong people, chose the wrong side. He let pride rule him. He let self-hatred rule him. In this moment, for the first time in a long time, he knew he had done good.

Percy was distracted from his thoughts by the door opening, and Audrey slipped in baring a stack of toweling and clothing. She looked fresh and clean, with damp hair and his old jumper. The last thing he remembered before falling into deep sleep the night before was his head hitting the pillow and Audrey whispering that she would stay with him. His exhaustion was too complete to know for sure that she was true to her word, yet he didn't doubt it.

"Oh good, you've eaten," Audrey said, peeking at the tray and setting her burden on the nearby chest of drawers. "Are you tired, do you want to go back to sleep?"

Percy shook his head. "Soon, but not yet. I think I'd like to clean up first."

"Hm, I'm not at all surprised, but you're too weak for a shower." Audrey came to stand by Percy's bedside with a flannel and cake of soap in hand. "I'm afraid it will have to be a sponge bath."

"Are you to do the honors?"

"Unless you want me to get Bill?"

Percy laughed. "I think I'll submit myself to your tender mercies, I just wish I had the energy to enjoy it a bit more."

"Mm, perhaps I'll try again next week."

Percy slumped back in the bed, watching Audrey go about her business, spreading a sheet across the floor, conjuring a stool, a basin on the table. She filled it with water from her wand, then warmed it. Finally, she pulled off her jumper and stood before him in soft cotton trousers and a plain white bra.

"I reckon there's little chance that I'll come away from this dry," she said. "Can you strip, or do you need help?"

"You're planning a thorough bath, then?"

She gave him a devilish smile. "I promise not to take advantage of your vulnerable state. This week."

"I should hope." Percy managed to rid himself of the pajama bottoms he was wearing, realizing for the first time that they must be Bill's—he wouldn't consider the pants he was wearing as he shirked those as well. It did occur to him that he was standing there naked, his girlfriend nearly so, and the proof of his exhaustion couldn't be plainer.

"Do you need help?" Audrey asked.

Percy shook his head, and shuffled the few feet to the stool, plopping down inelegantly. It was as though he'd run a marathon, the way the breath burst painfully from his chest. Nearly dying really did take it out of a body, didn't it?

Audrey used her wand to soak the bandage across his back, then stripped it away. "We gave you an anti-swelling potion, and it looks like it's working. No infection as far as I can tell…. Fleur should probably look at your wounds before you go back to sleep."

"You alright?"

"Peachy. Now, lean your head back," Audrey murmured, removing his glasses.

Warm water spilled over his head and shoulders to splash into a basin that Audrey charmed to hover nearby and catch the runoff. She rubbed shampoo that smelled of lavender and chamomile into his scalp, and all practicalities left Percy's mind. She rinsed him, drying his hair with a towel, then came around to stand between his knees. She was near enough that he could see her clearly without his glasses. No emotion crossed Audrey's face, only simple concentration as she gently wiped the flannel along his neck and chest, down his arms. She didn't even offer a teasing grin as she took care of more interesting bits, not even when nature proved stronger than exhaustion. Audrey was all tender care.

She stood again, water beaded on her chest, her bra damp and translucent. Something baser stirred in Percy, but he reminded himself that he couldn't properly do anything about the feelings Audrey roused in him. Still, it was a nice reminder that he wasn't dead.

"I'm going to wash your shoulders," Audrey murmured, walking around him. "I'll be gentle, but tell me if it hurts."

Percy nodded. "How bad is it?"

He could hear the catch in her breath, then her cool hand against his side. "It could have been worse."

"That doesn't answer the question, does it?"

Audrey touched one finger to the edge of his left shoulder. "It goes from here—" she touched his right shoulder, "—to here. This is the worst of it." A soft touch on his spine. "Maybe six inches thick there. Red…looks like…it's raw. Shaped a bit like Russia."

Percy laughed. "I think I might have preferred India."

"Or China."

"Though, perhaps Luxembourg would have been preferable."

Firm lips pressed into Percy's skin, at the base of his neck.

"You're alive, the rest doesn't matter."

"Audrey." Percy tried to twist around to look at her and immediately found out that was a bad idea. He gasped in pain, his whole body coiling in on itself.

"Percy!" Audrey zoomed around the room, returning with a potion bottle. "Take this."

The pain potion dulled the searing agony tearing across his back almost instantly, leaving Percy sighing in relief. He'd never faced an injury that magic couldn't heal instantly. Learning to pace himself was going to be a painful process. Surely this wouldn't last forever?

"You alright, you stupid man?"

"Yes." Percy looked up at Audrey, concern sketched across her features. "Last night…or maybe it was this morning, you said you loved me."

Her mouth melted into an easy smile. "Yes."

Percy squeezed his hands into fists to keep from touching her. She was standing between his legs again, the cotton of her trousers brushing his inner thigh. The urge just to lay his hand on her hip or lace his fingers with hers was so strong, but he had to resist. There were things he needed to say, and he was afraid he would lose his nerve if he touched her.

"You didn't have to," Percy said, keeping his eyes on her face.

Then Percy waited. He hoped that Audrey loved him the way he loved her, but he could be wrong. Last night was full of a lot of emotions. If she had mistaken her fear of his death for something else, then Percy owed it to her to let her back out now. Still, each beat of his heart yearned for more.

"Uh-uh." Audrey cupped his face in her small hands. "You won't be rid of me that easily, Gryffindor. I meant what I said."

"If it was just the-the heat of the moment, or maybe you feel guilty because I said it too…."

"I love you, Percy, quit looking for escape clauses. I don't want one. I want you."

"And…you're sure?"

"Are you?"

It was no longer easy for Percy to trust himself. He'd been sure about so many things, only to be proven incredibly wrong. His instincts stood on fragile ground. He thought of the other night, when Audrey taught him to cast a Patronus. He remembered the memory he'd chosen: a memory of her, of how she made him feel. Uncurling his hands, he placed each of them on her waist.

"Yes, I'm positive. I love you. I have for awhile now."

Audrey kissed him and whispered, "That makes two of us."

oOo

Fleur pulled out a fresh roll of parchment, inkpot, and quill. More than three days had passed, but finally she was recording the names and destination of the escaped prisoners. This would be her last act for the Order of Mercy until it was time to bring the refugees home. Whenever that would be.

The quill trembled in her hand as she tried to push that thought away. For so many months, she had dedicated herself to this cause. It did not seem possible that the Order of Mercy would be finished before the war, but that was exactly what happened. She was closing this chapter in her life with no end to the war in sight. Where was Ron now, Fleur wondered. Did he find Harry and Hermione? Were they any closer to accomplishing their mission? Fleur had not accomplished hers. The Muggle-born Registration Commission would grind on with no one to oppose it.

Carefully, Fleur dipped her quill into the inkpot and began copying the names from her notepad onto the parchment. Those little folios were never meant to hold information for more than a few moments for fear that they would fall into the wrong hands. It was imperative that Fleur finish this task and Vanish the scribbles.

"Percy's sleeping again," Audrey announced as she carried a tea tray into the kitchen. "Do you think that's normal?"

"It will help him heal," Fleur answered.

"His wounds looked good, don't you think? The Skin Renewal Potion seems to be working. I mean his back doesn't look so much like…like ground beef?"

Fleur stood up and crossed to the worktop where Audrey was rinsing teacups and saucers. "He will be scarred," she murmured.

"I know." Audrey's hand shook as she held a plate under the faucet.

Fleur took the plate from Audrey and set it in the sink, then pulled her friend into a tight hug. Sniffling, Audrey pressed her cheek against Fleur's chest. Fleur knew how scared Audrey was, she did not need for her friend to say the words. It was the same emotion Fleur had felt those many months ago when it was Bill who narrowly escaped death. She wished she could help Audrey, to tell her that she understood, but the emotion stuck in Fleur's throat and the words would not come. And under all of that was the knowledge of how close Fleur had been to letting Percy die.

"What are you doing?" Audrey asked, pulling away and wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

Fleur returned to the butcher's block. "Transcribing the names of the last refugees."

Audrey picked up the notepad and stared at it a moment. "What will we do now?"

"We wait."

Audrey made an impolite sound in the throat, but sat on the stool across from Fleur. "I'll read the names for you."

It did not take long with Audrey's help. Soon, Fleur had another list of names, fourteen saved from Azkaban. Conjuring a jar, Fleur rolled up the parchment and placed it inside. Then she and Audrey went to the garden and buried it deep with its sisters. Dozens of jars, scores of names, and not enough. Standing beside the raised bed, Fleur took Audrey's hand.

"I hate waiting," Audrey said.

oOo

The next few days found Shell Cottage quiet. Percy slept. Fleur finalized the end of the Order of Mercy. Outside of their corner of the world, however, life and war marched on. A Polyjuiced Oliver's puking performance bought Percy time. Audrey bid farewell to her sisters and nieces, and Bill helped the Pucey family disappear. They weren't the only ones. Word crept out of the Ministry that Liam Williamson had joined the Resistance, then vanished.

When Bill returned home from Gringotts just over a week since the Battle of Ipswich, he found his brother installed in his library. Percy was sat by the fire with blankets piled on his lap and a cuppa at his elbow. When Bill walked in, Percy sent him a pleading look.

"Why, hello, Grandpa Weasley," Bill snickered.

"Very funny," Percy grumbled. "You've got to help me. Audrey and Fleur are treating me like…like their elderly grandpa."

Bill set his satchel on his desk. He empathized with his brother, but that didn't make Percy's situation less funny. Honestly, Bill remembered all too well the boredom and frustration of recuperation. He remembered how he chafed at being treated like an invalid. However, Bill also remembered how he pushed himself too hard, too soon. Maybe it would have been better if he'd allowed himself a few more weeks of bed rest instead of racing off to battle at the first opportunity.

Pouring two tumblers of Firewhisky, Bill handed one to Percy and took the chair opposite. "Maybe that will take the sting out of being cooped up."

"Cheers," Percy muttered, clinked his glass against Bill's and took a tentative sip.

"I know it's frustrating, Perce, but take your time."

"Even if I was inclined to, I have to return to the Ministry soon. Ollie's done his part, but I can only be sick for so long before they become suspicious."

Bill knew Percy was right. No one could afford to have his actions under scrutiny these days, especially not a Weasley.

"If this war doesn't end soon, there will come a time when you have to leave the Ministry," Bill said, leaning back in his chair and crossing his ankle over the other knee. He appeared at his leisure, but he didn't feel it. The trees were budding, and the first hyacinths were poking out of the ground with their fragrant buds. Each day, spring became more entrenched, and the war carried on. It was only a matter of time before disaster struck.

"And you'll have to leave the bank," Percy returned. "I reckon we'll cross those bridges when we get to them."

Bill nodded, knowing Percy was correct.

"Listen, Bill." With great care, Percy leaned forward and set his tumbler down beside his teacup. "I've been thinking about it…. I want to go home. I-I…It's time."

It was past time, but Bill didn't say it.

"Glad to hear it."

"I did try once before, you know. It didn't go so well."

"Because you went about it the wrong way," Bill said and smirked. "Scrimgeour—you had to know that would blow up in your face."

Percy ignored this and instead said, "Could you maybe pave the way for me…with Dad?"

"Of course." The answer was instantaneous, but Bill understood the gravity of this moment. Percy was setting aside his pride at last and asking for help. He was going home. Something painful constricted Bill's throat as he realized that he was proud to be the one Percy came to for this. He was proud of his little brother.

"Hey, Perce," Bill said. The two brothers stared at each other for a moment while Bill thought about what he wanted to say, but the words failed him. Instead he reached over and grasped Percy's arm.

Percy cleared his throat and adjusted his glass. "It'll be Easter soon. Maybe I can be home in time for Mum's Easter Ham."

"She'll make hot cross buns."

"With the last of the apple butter she canned in the fall."

"Will you bring Audrey home?" Bill smirked as Percy turned red.

"Yes…. Do you think Mum will like her?"

Bill chuckled. "Not a chance. She flat out hated Fleur in the beginning…and for the next year."

"But you're her ickle Billy," Percy cooed, grinning. "Who could be good enough for Mummy's golden boy?"

"Sod off! Like Mum's going to be keen to share her wayward son with another woman."

Percy laughed and held up his tumbler of Firewhisky. "To Mum."

"To not being dead," Bill said, raising his own glass.

Chapter 46

Notes:

We're in the home stretch with just ten chapters left.

 

Disclaimer: The world and character's belong to JK Rowling.

Bill and Fleur had stood inside the Burrow's kitchen for some time before Ginny appeared. The girl did not bound down the stairs, nor did she yell Bill's name and fling herself into his arms. Instead, she walked with heaviness, wrapping her brother in a hug. Ginny owned a sedateness that did not fit her.

Upon seeing this display, Fleur glanced at her mother-in-law. Molly's eyes were on her children, tea towel clutched in her hands, her face grim. There was a weight in the Burrow that pressed on Fleur, and she knew that this visit would not be a comfortable one.

"Looking forward to Easter?" Bill asked. It was the kind of question that filled silences but was immensely stupid.

"So," Ginny said, pushing back from her brother. "Fred and George doing their Potterwatch thing tonight?"

Molly choked, her eyes closing.

Bill shot a worried look at his mother. "Later, yeah. You'll only have to endure Fleur and me for dinner tonight."

"Well, isn't that nauseating?" Ginny said, with a trace of her usual cheek. "Do you reckon you can stay out of his lap long enough to eat a roast, Phlegm?"

"Ginny!" Bill admonished.

"What?" she shot back, smile lighting her face. "I was kidding. Fleur knows that, right?"

"Mais oui." Fleur was not so convinced that Ginny was "kidding," but she was grateful for the change in mood so she was willing to be made fun of this once.

The two siblings bickered their way out of their mother's kitchen, leaving Molly's fretting face and Fleur's unease behind. It was in moments like this one that Fleur could see how the war was straining her mother-in-law. She did not think it was her imagination that Molly's hair showed streaks of gray, or that her skin wore the appearance of a frock washed too many times and worn thin.

"I can help with supper," Fleur said into the quiet.

"No, it's all taken care of." Molly looked at the doorway through which her children disappeared. "Dreadful things are happening at Hogwarts."

"Does Ginny speak of zese zings?"

Molly shook her head. "Of course not!" Her eyes clamped shut, her expression tight, when she opened them again there was nothing there. "I'll have the roast in a moment. Be a dear and set the table."

oOo

"Just got word from George," Dad said, setting a Butterbeer in front of Bill. "No Potterwatch tonight, I'm afraid."

"Another raid?" Bill took a sip from his bottle. They sat over the chess table, but neither had moved yet.

"Yes. The boys all got away safely, thank goodness…. Maybe not mention this to your mother."

Bill nodded, though he wasn't sure how they were meant to hide the fact that Fred and George narrowly escaped capture again. Any moment now, Mum, Ginny, and Fleur would be walking into the sitting room, expecting to listen to the wireless. What were they going to say when Mum asked why the twins and Jordan weren't broadcasting? That they decided to take the night off? They hadn't been on the air since the night after the Battle of Ipswich more than a week ago.

"Say, Dad," Bill started, "there was something I wanted to speak to you about, before Mum comes in."

This was going to be his best chance to broach the subject of Percy. Once Bill brought Dad around, they could start on the twins and Ginny together. However, if Dad was going to be stubborn, there was no need to get Mum's hopes up about a reunion with her prodigal son.

"What is it, son?"

Before Bill could even begin, he was interrupted by the sound of a dish crashing onto the floor and cries of alarm. Father and son sprang from their chairs, wands out, charging the kitchen. Inside that cozy room, they found an anguished Remus Lupin standing there, Mum to one side with her hand pressed to her mouth.

"Molly?" Dad demanded, his chest heaving.

Bill looked to where Ginny and Fleur stood around the table. An apple crumble was splattered at Ginny's feet, Fleur clutched a tray of dishes woodenly. Her eyes met Bill's, tear shining there.

"It's Ted Tonks and Dirk Cresswell," Mum said. "Killed."

"What?" Dad gasped, his wand arm falling limply to his side.

Of course Dad would have known both men professionally, and the Tonkses were something like family friends. No, not something like, they were. Charlie used to go to their home in the summer to visit Tonks, Bill tagging along whether he wanted to or not. After a while, Bill had looked forward to those visits. Mrs. Tonks would serve biscuits, and Mr. Tonks had a library full of Muggle and wizard books that he was keen to share. It was because of Ted Tonks' enthusiasm for reading that Bill first encountered India in The Jungle Book or Arabia in One Thousand and One Nights. It was because of Ted Tonks that Bill first heard the Beatles.

Bill looked at his wife, thinking of another one. Remembering Andromeda Tonks' husky laugh when her husband put on Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da. The way they twirled around the library. Ted Tonks had a massive belly and a jovial laugh compared to his wife's cool elegance and snapping eyes. Bill remembered thinking they seemed mismatched, and glamorous, and wanting a marriage like that someday.

"When?" Bill asked.

Remus shook his head. "Andromeda just got word, but we don't know for sure."

"The poor dear," Mum muttered. "How is she? And Tonks?"

Remus shook his head again. "Taking it hard."

"Th-they were traveling with Dean."

All eyes turned to Ginny. She wrapped her arms around herself, eyes blazing on Remus.

"Dean Thomas?" Remus said, nodding slightly. "Yes, we believe so."

"And Dean? Is he dead?"

"No, it would seem that he and another Goblin got away."

Ginny's shoulders wilted. "Oh. Oh, poor Tonks."

Beyond his sister, Bill's eyes met Fleur's. Sadness filled the space between them, even as Bill could hear his Mum's practical words. What can we do? We'll come with a casserole, of course. Food and comfort. Mum always knew what to do in times like these.

Later, Bill lie in his bed, staring up at the dark ceiling. In the back of his mind, he remembered Percy and resolved to speak to Dad before the week was out. Beside him, Fleur rolled over and placed her hand over Bill's heart, her head nestled against his shoulder.

"It is because of Ted Tonks zat I first had zee idea for zee Order of Mercy," she said quietly.

Bill sighed. "My thoughts keep getting jumbled up. One moment I'm thinking about how scared I was when Dad was attacked by that snake, and the next I just can't fathom what poor Tonks must be going through. Her baby will never know his granddad."

They were quiet a moment, Bill playing with Fleur's hair.

"What will be next?" she asked.

The answer to that question was only days away.

oOo

"Fleur."

Sleep cocooned Fleur, her mind dark and comfortable, her body cradled by the mattress and warm blankets. Her name was being called, but she did not want to relinquish this restful state. Curling into a ball, she resisted the hand that was shaking her, the voice that was calling her. When was the last time she had slept so well?

"Fleur. Get dressed."

Something landed on her face. She snatched it away, realizing it was the blouse Bill had taken off of her a few hours ago. She opened her eyes, aware now of a rustling sound inside the room. Bill was pulling on the clothes that they had left on the floor before climbing into bed together. Fleur blinked, looking at the alarm clock on the bedside table, but unable to make out the numbers in the dark.

"Bill? What is it?"

"A loud crack, like Apparition. Shh."

They both stilled, the silence of night closing around them, and that was when Fleur heard it. Voices. Calling for help. She threw back the counterpane, dressing quickly in the dark, silent but for the beating of her heart.

"Stay quiet and follow me," Bill instructed. His wand led the way down the stairs. They lit no lights as they went, not wanting to alert whoever was on the beach to their movements. The mantle clock in the sitting room struck the half hour. At the front door, Bill pushed back the lacy curtain to peer out, and Fleur pressed against his back. Silhouetted by the night sky, two people supported a third in a drunken stumble up the beach. They could have been Cerberus with its three great heads—if Cerberus was crafted of a small poodle, a whippet, and a Doberman.

Still, Bill and Fleur waited. Tense alertness coursed through Bill's body into hers, but there was no panic. Too many times they had welcomed unexpected, evening visitors. They may as well run an inn, or hospital.

"Bill Weasley! I need your help!" called a high, sweet voice.

All along his back, where Fleur's body was pressed to his, Bill's muscles stiffened.

"I know that voice," he murmured, still he waited.

The voice called out again.

"Luna?"

He reached for the doorknob, but Fleur stopped him.

"Constant vigilance, mon Bill."

There was a slash of white teeth across his face. "Ready to greet our visitors?"

Fleur held up her wand. "If I must."

Quickly, Bill kissed her before opening the door. They filed onto the porch and down the stairs, drifting so that a four-foot space expanded between them. This way a single curse would not disable both of them. It was a clear night, the stars shining like diamond broaches in the black velvet of the sky. The sea rolled onto the beach and out again with the ceaseless assurance of eternity. Inside Fleur's body, her own blood rushed from her heart and through her veins with the erratic surge of adrenaline.

"Declare yourself!" Bill bellowed.

Their three-headed monster drew nearer, but cast no jinxes or hexes. In fact, they cast no magic at all, not even a lit wand. Odd. They could not be Muggles, no Muggle could wander this near to their home. Could it be a ruse? To lull them into a false sense of security? Fleur glanced at Bill, but there was nothing in the dark that gave away his thoughts.

"Luna Lovegood," came the high, sweet voice.

"Dean Thomas," said the tall one on the other side of the drooping figure.

"And this is Garrick Ollivander," said Luna.

The married couple exchanged a glance. Ollivander, the wandmaker, that horrible old man who had dismissed Fleur's beautiful wand as inferior during the Triwizard Tournament. But surely he was dead? He had been missing for over a year, no one thought he would survive his ordeal, whatever it was.

Bill returned his attention to their strange Cerberus. "Prove it."

"You used to keep sweets in your top dresser drawer when you were home from school," Luna said. "Ginny would steal them and share them with me under the oldest apple tree in the orchard."

Bill lowered his wand. "Luna?"

There was a rush of affection and relief in his voice. For an instant, his body sagged, his head dropping back. Fleur's mind turned to her sister-in-law, drawn tight with all the cares of the world. She imagined telling Ginny that her best friend was safe, and Fleur knew just a fraction of the emotion her husband must be feeling. Ginny would be so happy at the return of her friend, and that made Fleur's heart lighter as well. But that time was hours from now. They had more pressing matters at this moment.

Finally free to do so, Fleur rushed forward, assuming the burden of Mr. Ollivander from Luna. With Dean's assistance, they laid the old man across the sand, Fleur's lit wand casting shadow and light over skin as thin as vellum. The man was so still, Fleur feared he might be dead. Picking up his hand, she pressed her fingers against his wrist, but found no pulse point. Her own quickened. Roughly, she pressed her fingers against Mr. Ollivander's throat, finally finding the beat of life, slow but steady.

"He is very frail." Luna Lovegood knelt beside Fleur.

"What has happened to him?" Fleur asked.

"They tortured him," Luna replied in an airy voice one might use when describing embroidery.

Fleur took a deep breath, looking up at Bill who was speaking to Dean Thomas. "Did they starve him as well?"

"We were given porridge and bread twice a day. Quite bland, really."

And insufficient, but Fleur kept that thought to herself. She would need to be careful in feeding these three, especially poor Mr. Ollivander. She still resented his comments about her wand, but his condition was making her charitable. Pulling out her rather brilliant, excellent wand, Fleur conjured a stretcher and levitated the old man onto it.

"Fleur!" Bill was pulling her up by the arms, his mouth frowning and his eyes wild. "They are at Malfoy Manner."

"What?" Fleur looked beyond her husband's shoulder to the young man standing behind him. "Who?"

"Ron, Hermione, and Harry."

"Oh, yes," said Luna serenely. "Mr. Dobby returned for them."

"Mr. Dobby?" Fleur's brow furrowed. She felt as if she were being thrown fragments of a puzzle without any clue of what the picture should be. "Who is Mr. Dobby?"

"A house-elf, of course."

Fleur glared at the girl who still knelt by Mr. Ollivander. There was no of course about it. What did a house-elf have to do with any of this? And where did Harry, Ron, and Hermione figure into the equation?

"I do not understand," Fleur said slowly.

"Dean was captured by Snatchers today," Bill said. "Along with Ron and the others. They were taken to Malfoy Manner."

Understanding like an ice bath crashed over Fleur. Already, images of torture and death tried to trample through her mind, snapping from Harry, Ron, and Hermione to the rest of the Weasley family. Did these Death Eaters know who they had in their clutches? But of course they did. Why take a group of truants to Malfoy Manner if they did not. That meant Bill's family….

"What do you need me to do?" Fleur asked.

In the back of her mind, she was already placing Mr. Ollivander in the guest room with Luna and a pot of tea. There was nothing wrong with the old man that could not wait a few more hours. Fleur rushed ahead to the Burrow, warning her in-laws. What of Fred and George?

"I'll go for Remus," Bill said. "I'll send a Patronus to Kingsley and the twins. We'll infiltrate Malfoy Manner somehow."

"I want to go, too," Dean said.

"You've no wand," Bill snapped over his shoulder, then turned back to Fleur. "Get Ginny and my parents to Auntie Muriel's. Make sure Dad stays with them."

"Oui. Yes, of course."

Bill's fingers flexed where they were still wrapped around her arms. "We may only have a short time. Dean says Ron was identified positively. They'll send Death Eaters for my family…."

Crack!

Everybody on the beach turned towards the sound. The voice hit Fleur's ears before she processed the sight before her. A rasping, panicking cry for Bill. It was Ron standing on the beach, cradling a limp body against his own. He swayed, going down on one knee, still clutching his burden. Bill sprinted to him, Fleur and Dean on his heels.

"Bill," Ron yelled. "Bill. Help. It's Hermione."

Bill was kneeling before his brother, one hand on Ron's shoulder, the other pressed against Hermione's neck. "I'm here, Ronnie. It's okay."

"She—They—I screamed for her, Bill—But I couldn't—"

"Sh. Sh. I know."

In Ron's arms, Hermione did not so much as twitch. Fleur assumed the younger girl was alive as Bill had checked her pulse and did not seem alarmed. She did not think he could behave as if he were soothing away a nightmare if a dead girl rested in his brother's arms. Pushing past Dean and shoving Bill aside, Fleur took up his spot in front of Ron.

"What happened to her?" she asked.

"They tortured her," Dean said quietly.

Silence. Ron was staring angrily up at the other boy.

"Until she was unconscious?" Fleur asked, trying to keep her voice even. She did not want to consider the implications of that. Calming draughts and pain potions would do much to quell the lingering effects of the Cruciatus Curse—at least that is what she assumed was used on Hermione—but Fleur could not heal a broken mind.

"No," Ron rasped. "She was knocked out by the chandelier falling."

Fleur decided to ignore the absurdity of that statement and concentrate on the fact that she could easily fix a concussion.

"Where's Harry?" Bill asked.

Another crack answered his question.

"Take Hermione into zee house," Fleur said kindly, touching Ron's face. He had calmed, his breath coming in short puffs. "I will be zere shortly, and do not worry. I will make it so it is just a bad memory."

oOo

Bill was aware of his baby brother carrying the body of the girl he loved towards Shell Cottage, but his eyes were on the figure further down the headland, and his mind was at the Burrow. If the latecomer was Harry, then there was no need to storm Malfoy Manner, but all the more reason to get to his family. He looked to his wife, assuring himself that she could handle things in his absence.

"Fleur—"

"HELP!"*

They all turned to the anguished bellow.

"HELP!"

Dread clutched at Bill's insides with icy fingers. He could hear the grief and desperation in the depths of that voice, and Bill understood all too well where it came from. The deepest, darkest pit of pain. A part of his mind was in Little Helga, almost a year ago. Bill's stomach cramped as he realized that a year had passed since Dougal and Fergus Wood were killed. Ruthlessly, he pushed the memory down. He was needed here, now.

"Dobby…Dobby…" *

Harry Potter clutched the small figure that lie in his arms. Beyond him, another body—looked to be a goblin—lay crumpled in the grasses, moaning. Bill came to a halt, seeing the glint of silver and the dark stain on the small body—no bigger than a child. Fleur's hand was in Bill's, and he squeezed it, glancing around to see Dean and Luna standing there as well.

"Hermione?" Harry asked, looking up at Bill. "Where is she?"*

"Ron's taken her inside," he said. "She'll be all right."*

Then Harry pulled the knife from the elf's body. Fleur's hand tightened around Bill's. There was nothing but the roaring of the sea and the pitiful moans of the goblin on the ground. Harry took off his jacket, covering the elf in it. They were witnessing a deeply painful and personal moment.

"We should not see zis," Fleur whispered, turning to Bill.

He knew just what she meant. "Looks like a goblin there, take him back to the house and get him sorted."

It was Dean who scooped up the goblin's body, and Bill remembered that the young man had been traveling with two goblins as well as Ted Tonks and Dirk Cresswell. Fleur hurried after him, leaving just Luna, Bill, Harry, and the body on the beach. Slowly, Bill crouched by Harry Potter.

"Maybe you would like to bury him," Bill said kindly.

Harry was not crying, but his eyes were glassy. "I want to do this properly," he said. "Not by magic. Have you got a spade?"*

"Of course," Bill replied, and led the boy who was clasping the elf's body in his arms to a spot in Fleur's garden between two bushes. He Summoned the spade from the shed, then stood back and watched a moment as Harry Potter began digging the grave.

Notes:

*Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by JK Rowling, Chapter 23 Malfoy Manner, page 475

*Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by JK Rowling, Chapter 24 The Wandmaker, page 477

*Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by JK Rowling, Chapter 24 The Wandmaker, page 477

*Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by JK Rowling, Chapter 24 The Wandmaker, page 478

Chapter 47

Notes:

The Fidelius charm is another of those spells that figures prominently in the books, but for which there is little additional information. I did my regular research, but in the end, I had to get creative. I came to the conclusion that what made the Fidelius such a difficult spell was not the casting but the mental concentration required to perform it. I hope you find this credible.

For a moment, Bill watched as Harry began digging the house-elf's grave. He didn't seem to notice that Bill was still standing there. When he'd last seen Harry in August, he looked—well, he'd been Polyjuiced to resemble a reasonable facsimile of a Weasley, but before that Harry looked much as he ever did. Thin, messy hair, carrying the weight of the world. The shaggy young man who scooped spade after spade of earth was winnowed down to sinew and scruff. He looked as if the weight of the world had become too burdensome.

It was with regret that Bill turned on his heel and strode up to Shell Cottage. They all had jobs to do now, and his was not to babysit a grief-stricken Harry Potter. Bill needed to get to the Burrow. Each moment he delayed could cost his family their lives. He was met in the foyer by Dean Thomas thundering down the stairs. His face was bloodied and bruised, but he appeared otherwise healthy.

"Where's the still room?" Dean blurted, waving a piece of parchment in the air that appeared to have a list in Fleur's handwriting.

"Through there," Bill said, pointing. "You should find it in order."

Taking the stairs two at a time, Bill found a confrontation outside his bedroom. Fleur, wearing a white apron, had her hands on her hips, glaring up into Ron's implacable face. The younger man had his feet spread apart, his arms crossed over his chest, completely immune to all of Fleur's French fury.

"You know I can't tell you that," Ron said stubbornly.

"How do you expect me to heal her if you do not tell me what happened to her!" Fleur shouted.

"I. Can't."

Fleur made a sound in her throat like an angry cat. Bill could sympathize. He'd had all he could stand of Harry, Ron, and Hermione's bloody secrets. It meant nothing to Bill that Dumbledore had given them this mission—Dumbledore was dead. For all that these three had grown up too quickly, that didn't change the fact that they were just teenage kids—not even fully qualified wizards. Harry might be the Chosen One, Ron and Hermione might be his loyal friends, but how did that give them the knowledge and wisdom to accomplish whatever this mission was without assistance? It had brought them to near disaster at Malfoy Manor, that much was clear—a disaster that was not yet fully diverted.

"You'd rather Hermione suffer than tell Fleur what curse was used?" Bill demanded.

Ron swung around, his face red. "No!"

"What difference does it make if you tell Fleur this one thing?"

Ron glared at Bill, then looked at the bedroom door. "I can't—"

"Yeah, I've heard that before," Bill snarled. "We already know you were at Malfoy Manor, and we can determine that Hermione was tortured just by looking at her. Do right by her and tell Fleur what she needs to know."

"Dumbledore—" Ron sounded less sure of himself, but Bill cut him off.

"Dumbledore wasn't in that bloody house."

Ron's mouth sealed shut, but Bill didn't have the time to argue. He pushed past his brother to speak to his wife. "I'm leaving for the Burrow. Do you have everything you need?"

"Why are you going to the Burrow?" Ron rasped. He looked at Bill with round eyes.

"Death Eaters know you are traveling with Harry Potter," Bill replied, shooting a nasty look over his shoulder. "Who do you think they'll try to torture next?"

All color washed out of Ron's face, leaving him green around the edges.

"Go," Fleur said, and glared at Ron. "You will only be another person getting in my way."

"That's my girl."

Bill kissed Fleur on the forehead then dashed down the stairs to snag his cloak from the hook. He didn't ask Ron to join him, and not just because he was angry with his brother. Ron would be a distraction. Mum and Ginny would go to pieces at the sight of him, losing precious time. Already Bill was expecting his sister to be a pain in the arse once she knew that Harry, Ron, and Hermione were only a side-along Apparition away. More than that, he knew that Ron wouldn't leave Hermione's side—Bill wouldn't if it were Fleur.

Within minutes, Bill Apparated onto the edge of the Burrow's orchard with a slight pop. The house was dark on the hill above. Nobody would be expecting him—he'd be lucky if Dad didn't hex him by accident. Bill wondered how much time they had as he raced through trees that were only just springing to life again. It was common knowledge that You-Know-Who used the Malfoy's as a base. How many Death Eaters would be at hand? Would they mobilize a party to attack the Burrow right away? Would they have to call wizards in from other places? Maybe they would do it officially, use the Aurors? It didn't matter, they had to act as if the attack was imminent. With that thought, Bill sprinted the last yards into the garden and crashed through the backdoor, calling for Dad.

Already breathless, Bill raced up the stairs, meeting his father's wand on the landing.

"Bill! What is it?" Mum stood on the steps behind Dad, clutching her dressing gown shut.

Taking two great breaths, Bill said, "Ron's at Shell Cottage with Harry and Hermione."

"What?" Ginny shrieked, coming from her room. "When? Are they all right?"

Bill looked at his sister, lit only by the single candle from the bathroom. She looked very young, with eyes too large for her face. Pity welled up inside of Bill. He understood how hard this must be for Ginny—her boyfriend, closest brother, and one of her best friends so near after months of nothing but rumors, Ginny didn't even know about Luna yet. Bill steeled himself against that emotion, it would not serve him in the coming storm.

"They were captured," Bill pushed on. "Taken to Malfoy Manner."

Mum and Ginny gasped.

"They escaped along with Dean Thomas and Luna Lovegood." It just occurred to Bill that he had no idea who the house-elf or the goblin was, but that didn't matter at the moment.

"Are they hurt?" Mum asked, trying to push past Dad. "I should go to them."

"Mum, no," Bill said. "Fleur's taking care of them. Right now, you need to pack."

"Pack?"

"Yes," Dad said, looking Bill in the eye. He understood what needed to happen without Bill having to say it. "They know Ron is traveling with Harry, they'll come for us. We'll go to Auntie Muriel's. The twins, too—"

"I'll go for them now," Bill said. "I'll meet you at Muriel's."

"What about Percy?" Mum said.

Bill looked from his mother, who clutched her hands at her bosom, to his father who was pale and slack-jawed at the mention of his wayward third son. Dad had neatly avoided any discussion of Percy for nearly three years, but finally Bill could read regret in Dad's face. What's more, Bill had missed the opportunity to broker a reunion.

"He'll be fine," Dad grunted at the same time that Bill said, "I'll send him a warning."

There was another beat of silence.

"Go!" Dad said. "Pack."

"I want to go with Bill," Ginny said.

"Not a chance," Bill said, already jogging back down the stairs. "I'll have my hands full with the twins as it is."

"No." Ginny chased after Bill, grabbing the sleeve of his cloak. "I want to go back with you to Shell Cottage."

"No." It was one syllable, but Bill packed it with all the force he could muster. He'd known this was coming, and he was determined to stand firm in the face of whatever Ginny threw at him. He couldn't take Ginny back to Shell Cottage. It was too dangerous and even more crowded.

"I just want to see them, Bill, please."

"Sorry, Ginny, I can't."

"You mean you won't!" Ginny's eyes were blazing. It wasn't just anger that burned there, but betrayal. She wrenched her hand away from Bill's cloak sleeve, her face alight with hatred.

"Gin-a-bug…."

"Ginevra Molly Weasley," Mum screeched from the top of the stairs. "You are not going to Shell Cottage, and that is final. Now, you had better pack unless you plan to wear the same pair of knickers for the rest of this blasted war!"

Ginny's mouth puckered into a tight line as she whipped around and marched back to her room.

oOo

"Ron!"

"Shh, Hermione, it's alright, I'm here."

Oui, Ron was there, right in Fleur's way as she tried to help Hermione. She had run the diagnostic spell that Healer Pucey showed her, revealing no broken bones, though the bushy-haired girl had a concussion just as Fleur suspected. It was a mere wave of the wand to heal that. The cut at her neck was not so obliging. It was a knife wound, Fleur thought, but Ron would not confirm this. Regardless, Fleur suspected that the knife was imbued with magic, and that was why the injury would not heal. It did not appear life threatening, however.

"Don't let her hurt me again, Ron," Hermione cried.

Ron smoothed back her hair. "Never again, I promise."

A very small parcel of Fleur's annoyance melted. Hermione had suffered something dreadful, of that Fleur was certain. Her heart ached for the young woman who was so brave and so clever. It ached, too, for Ronald, even though Fleur would like to throttle him for being so pig-headed. However, Fleur herself was also very obstinate, and she would not be moved from her beloved's bedside when he was hurt, so she almost forgave Ron for being so in the way.

"Hermione," Fleur said from the other side of the bed, but Hermione only had eyes for her Ron as she cried softly. Fleur sighed and poked Ron in the shoulder. "I can make her pain go away."

Ron sat up, wiping his arm over his eyes before looking at Fleur. "Right. Hermione, Fleur's here. She's been helping you."

Hermione looked shyly at Fleur. "Th-thank you."

"Bah. It is nothing." Fleur was not being modest. In the last six months she had dealt with much worse than a concussion and stubborn knife wound. "Ron will not tell me what happened to you because he is an idiot."

"We can't talk—" Hermione began, but Fleur cut her off.

"You, too, are an idiot, but I forgive you because your brains have been beat like an egg."

"Oi!" Ron protested, but Fleur sent him a quelling look.

"I imagine that you hurt very much," Fleur said in a softer tone. She sat on the edge of the bed and picked up two vials from the side table. "Zis is a pain potion and a calming draught. I recommend zee pain potion, but it is your decision if you take zee calming draught or not. Zey always make me very sleepy."

"Thank you," Hermione said. Ron reached across her to take the vials.

"Now," Fleur said, and stood once more. "I have more patients, and I have had my fill of annoying gingers."

"What about Harry?" Hermione said. Her eyes went wide as if she only just remembered the third party in their friendship. She tried to sit up again, but Ron pushed her back on the pillows.

"He's fine," Ron said.

"Where is he?"

"He-he had other things he had to do."

Fleur left Ron to tell Hermione the truth about the house-elf on his own. Closing the door behind her, Fleur took a deep breath. It was easier to be annoyed by Ron than it was to think about Hermione's condition. She had been tortured mercilessly. Probably the Cruciatus curse. Once she had begun the examination, Fleur thought she recognized some of the symptoms: a slight twitching along the nerves, especially in the hands, veins that were more blue and pronounced than normal, swollen joints. Fleur had cast a few charms to alleviate the pain, but time and pain potions were what Hermione really needed.

Ron had asked if Hermione might be driven insane, but Fleur had not known. She was not a Healer, she was just a young girl who was pretending. On some level she knew that she had a talent for this—Healer Pucey had certainly intimated as much when he was here to heal Percy—but Fleur wanted nothing more to do with spell damage and creature-induced injuries. She was sick of it all. Their suffering, her anxiety. She was sick of seeing the ugliness that magic could wreak when it was perverted.

Taking another deep breath, Fleur forced herself to go into the other bedroom where Mr. Ollivander and the goblin had been placed. She'd wanted to come here first. The goblin had serious injuries and had been howling in pain. Poor Mr. Ollivander, Fleur was not sure where to begin with him. She suspected magical damage, but much of what ailed him was simple and horrific neglect over long months as a prisoner. However, Fleur had not come to this room first. No, Ron had been so desperate that she heal Hermione, and in the end Fleur had been unable to refuse his pleas. She had instructed Dean to give the goblin a pain potion and made him wait.

"It's about time, you stupid girl," snarled the goblin from his bed.

"The pain potion helped," Dean said, an apologetic look on his face. "But…."

"Zat is quite alright," Fleur assured the young man. "I am accustomed to the rudeness of goblins. Maybe you should wait in zee hall, or you could go downstairs and rest. I will see to your wounds soon."

Dean squeezed by Fleur, taking a second look at her when their bodies inadvertently brushed against one another. There was a vacant look that told Fleur her magic had made Dean stupid. Another reason to be rid of him. Now, it was just her two patients and Luna in the room.

Walking nearer the bed, Fleur glanced out the window to see Harry digging a hole. Not a hole, a grave. Fleur could see the small body wrapped in his jacket lying nearby. For a moment, the world was quiet as Fleur watched the rhythmic motions of the young man. She could feel his grief from where she stood a story above in Shell Cottage. Her garden, it really was full of secrets.

oOo

Bill threw up a Shield charm, deflecting Fred's hex, which ricocheted, striking a table and reducing it to splinters with a loud bang. They stood in the lounge of Fred and George's flat above the shop. All was dark but for the moonlight streaming in the open door behind Bill. He'd knocked loudly, but hadn't wanted to announce himself for fear of who might be listening.

"Dammit, Fred."

"What do you expect when you go around sneaking into a man's home in the middle of the night?" Fred replied, smirk in place.

"Were you trying to kill me?" Bill demanded, he slammed the door shut and lit the candle in the wall sconce.

"I would have settled for serious injury."

"What are you doing here?" George asked, glancing at his watch. "It's three in the morning!"

"Ooohhh, did Fleur kick you out then?" Fred asked.

"No, wanker." Bill scowled. He'd known fetching the twins would be a pain in the arse. "Listen, you've got to pack up. Ron and Harry and Hermione are at my place."

"They alright?" George asked.

Nodding to George, Bill explained about Malfoy Manner.

"So pack up," he finished. "The family's moving to Auntie Muriel's."

The twins looked at each other.

"Scratch that," Fred said.

"Not happening," George chimed in.

Bill grit his teeth. "I don't have time for your usual song and dance. We need to move. Death Eaters could be moving in on the Burrow—or my home—as we speak."

"Don't let us keep you then," Fred said. "Sounds like you've some serious problems."

"In fact, we'll go with you," George added. "Been ages since we last battled Death Eaters."

"At least two weeks. Hate to get rusty."

"It would be best if it didn't come to that," Bill snapped. "Now pack up."

"Sorry."

"Can't."

"Got a business to run."

"And we won't be living with Auntie Muriel."

"Old dragon."

"So there you go."

"Tootle-loo."

Both of the twins waved daintily with their fingers.

Squeezing his hands into tight fists, Bill resisted the urge to commit murder. Maybe he should have let Dad fetch the twins. Certainly it would have been one less headache. Then Bill remembered the look on Ginny's face as he left the Burrow. Brows pointed, nostrils flared, mouth tight. So full of anger. His baby sister had never looked at him with such contempt before. Hell, Bill couldn't even think of a time when Fred or George had earned that look. It made Bill's insides curdle, but he couldn't relent.

Just like he couldn't give in to the twins' absurdity.

Bill began again. "I don't think you understand—"

"No, I don't think you understand," George said.

"We're not going to cower in that old cow's house," Fred put in, snickering a bit.

George elbowed him. "There's still a war to be fought, and we aren't going to hide like 'fraidy-cats at Auntie Muriel's."

"We're true Gryffindors."

"This isn't cowering," Bill said. "This is living to fight another day. Do you want to end up like Uncle Fabian and Uncle Gideon? Dueling five Death Eaters to your deaths? Because that is your immediate future if you don't come with me now."

"We'll take our chances," George said.

Bill looked from one twin to the other. Was he ever this brash and stupid? They were actively courting death. A dozen arguments formed in Bill's mind, explaining the difference between bravery and idiocy, and why the twins were idiots. But Bill was growing weary of this conversation. Time wasn't on his side, and sparring with the twins only ended with an aching head. He had no choice but to play dirty.

"Alright," Bill said, holding his palms out wide. "You win this round. I'll just send Mum for you then, shall I?"

The twins frowned.

Having won Fred and George's capitulation did not mean that the next thirty minutes went smoothly. It appeared as though they were packing their entire bloody shop, including delivery owls. Bill was just certain Mum would love that, and not to mention Auntie Muriel. While the twins shrunk and packed merchandise, Bill could only stare at the clock. He wondered if Dad, Mum, and Ginny had left the Burrow yet. He wondered how Fleur was managing.

Finally, after threatening to burn the bloody shop to the ground, Bill, Fred, and George were striding up to Auntie Muriel's large brick house with the ill-kempt garden and flaking front door. She claimed to be too old to care about such things. Bill suspected that the money she boasted about dried up several decades ago, but that she was too proud to sell off family treasures like the tiara Fleur still had in her lingerie drawer at home.

However anxious Bill felt, he was relieved for once to hear Auntie's strident voice complaining about a mass of Weasleys taking over her home. Stepping into the house, Bill was met with trunks and valises marching up the stairs and Mum's placating tone from the kitchen. Dad appeared, looking grim.

"Good, you've got Fred and George," he said.

"Nearly had to Imperious them," Bill replied. His twin brothers barged past them, followed by a long line of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes boxes.

"Time for the next step," Dad said. "In the parlor, maybe."

Bill nodded, following his father into the stuffy, formal chamber, its brocade furniture covered in an inch of dust. Waving his wand at a candelabra, it blazed to life accompanied by the smell of burning dust. Dad was busy rummaging through a dainty desk in search of parchment, quill, and ink.

"Have you ever cast a Fidelius charm?" Bill asked.

"No," Dad replied, finding what he was looking for. "You?"

Bill nodded. "Last week."

Dad looked startled, but said nothing.

The Fidelius charm was complicated, and while it wasn't without its flaws, it was still the strongest defensive magic they could work. It took two wizards—the spell caster and the secret keeper—sitting face to face over a flat surface, a candlestick wrought of gold, and a waxen candle never before lit. The spell itself was fairly quick, and it took even less time for it to go into effect, but every step had to be performed in just the right order, and still that wasn't what made the charm so complicated.

Bill moved two chairs so they were facing each other with a table between them. "Do you have a candlestick?"

"Oh, yes," Dad said, pulling a glinting object from his pocket and setting it on the table. "It was a wedding gift from Auntie Muriel actually. Your mother has been saving it for a special occasion."

"Hiding from Death Eaters qualifies, I reckon."

From his other pocket, Dad pulled two brand new candles. "I've been saving these since August."

"We'll do Auntie's first."

"No." Dad shook his head. "Shell Cottage first. They won't think of Muriel's right off, we have time."

Father and son sat across the table from one another. Dad ripped off a chunk of parchment and passed it with the quill to Bill. Carefully, Bill wrote his address, then rolled up the parchment. Meanwhile, Dad lit the first candle.

"Ready?" Dad asked.

Bill nodded.

First, Dad used his wand to draw a circle around the candle, speaking the incantation. From the base of the candlestick to the tip of the flame, it glowed a reddish gold, its warmth intensifying. Bill focused on the candle, his mind clear of all but one thought: the image of Shell Cottage sitting atop its cliff. Holding the parchment between two fingers, he placed it over the flame and watched as it curled and blackened. Dad drew complicated shapes with his wand, repeating the incantation and the address until the parchment was reduced to ashes and Bill's fingers were singed. They fell silent as a red-gold orb formed above the flame.

"Custos Specialis," Dad said, pointing at the orb with his wand and directing it at Bill.

Slowly it floated until it entered Bill's heart. Heat rolled through his body like a fever, an aura of gold encasing him, but Bill remained very still, keeping the image of his home in the forefront of his mind. And then it was over.

"You alright?" Dad asked.

Bill nodded.

After a few minutes, they performed the Fidelius charm again, this time placing Auntie Muriel's home under protection. Then Bill and Dad sat in a moment's silence. Dawn was still an hour away, maybe more. Somewhere in the night, Bill had lost track of time. Regardless, his family was safe for the moment.

"We won't be able to go to work," Dad said. "We've been saving for this, of course…."

"Fleur and I weren't exactly expecting to support others when we went into hiding—at leas not so many," Bill said. He didn't want to think about the weeks or months to come, not yet.

"We'll muddle through," Dad said. He looked at Bill, his eyes tired and serious. "Do you think Percy will be safe?"

Bill stayed quiet for a moment. It would seem that any attempt to reconcile Percy with the rest of the family was over, at least for now. Everybody's movements would be very limited from this point. Maybe there would come a time when that changed. Until then Bill wouldn't mention to his parents Percy's desire to return home. It just felt like pouring salt on a wound.

"Percy's a smart man," Bill said. "He knows how to take care of himself."

Dad nodded. "Right. You're right, of course."

There was a knock on the door, then Mum stuck her head into the parlor. "All done?" she asked.

"Yes," Dad said, and stood. "Do you have us settled?"

"We're getting there," she replied, then scowled. "The twins' owl ate Auntie Muriel's pet rat. I'm surprised you didn't hear the screeching."

Bill shook his head. He suspected this would be a long and tedious exile. "I should be going," he said, standing.

"Dear." Mum placed a hand on Bill's arm. "I know you still have so much to do, but how are they?"

For the first time, Bill realized that his mum was still wearing her dressing gown. She looked especially old and tired in that moment, her brown eyes pleading for news of her youngest son, and two children she loved as her own. Guilt settled in Bill's gut. He'd been complicit in keeping Ron from Mum all those months ago, and now he was keeping Percy from her as well.

"I don't have much to tell," Bill said slowly. "All I could think of was getting to you as fast as I could, but…. They were pretty shaken up, as you can imagine. Hermione…she was tortured."

Mum pressed a hand to her mouth. Dad closed his eyes. A soft gasp, barely audible, drew Bill's eyes to the room's opened door. There, in the shadows, lurked a small figure. Ginny, still too angry with Bill to enter the parlor, but just as eager for news as Mum.

"Fleur was taking care of her when I left. Ron was beside himself."

"I'm sure," Mum murmured. "Poor boy. Poor Hermione!"

Bill nodded. "They-they had Mr. Ollivander with them."

"By Merlin! How is that possible?" Dad burst out, collapsing in his chair with wide eyes.

"My thoughts precisely. Yet, there he was, sick and frail, but alive. There was a goblin, too, and a house-elf." Bill sighed. "The house-elf died. Harry…Harry was quite distraught, he was digging the grave…."

Mum wiped tears from her cheeks. "That boy has lost so much."

Bill turned his attention to the door, he could barely make out Ginny, but he knew she was there.

"Luna looked well enough. Dean, too," Bill added for Ginny's benefit. "Actually, when they are up to traveling, I'd like to bring some of them here. Shell Cottage just doesn't have the room."

"Of course," Mum said, as if it were her home.

"I should be going," Bill said. "Fleur will worry."

"Yes. Just…just give them my love, will you?" Mum embraced Bill. "Take care, dear."

Chapter 48

Notes:

From this point moving forward, every chapter will contain material directly from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. In some cases, it's just one or two lines, but in a few instances there are several lines of dialogue interspersed with paraphrases of the original source material. I placed an asterisk beside the individual lines. If there is a large chunk of dialogue/paraphrasing, I used italics to indicate that credit should go to JKR. At the end of each chapter, you'll find the citations referring you to the chapter and page number. And now seems like a good time for this...

 

Disclaimer: The world and characters belong to JK Rowling.

Fleur stepped out of the small room that housed Mr. Ollivander and the goblin—Griphook, he might be rude, but that did not mean Fleur had to treat him with disrespect. She could at least use his name. It was on her honor how she treated a guest in her home, no matter how ill mannered. Mr. Ollivander was awake now, speaking quietly with Luna. Fleur had administered restoring and rehydrating potions, but she was not sure there was much she could do for the old man.

In the hall, she was met with Hermione. The young woman wore a dirty camisole, her hair captured by an overworked elastic. Pale cheeks and tired eyes, Hermione's legs hardly performed their duty under her.

"I told Ron to go help Harry," Hermione said, a bit of defiance in her tone.

"That is very selfless of you," Fleur said. "I would not want Bill to leave my side if I had been tortured."

"I should be there, too. Dobby was…" Hermione's words caught on a sob, tears shining in her eyes.

"Non, Dean is zere. A fourth person would just be in zee way. Especially once she crumbles in a great swoon."

Hermione scowled. "I do not swoon."

"Zere is a first time for everything. Here." Fleur brushed passed Hermione into her bedroom, a small smile on her face. A nettled, irritable Hermione was a vast improvement over a weepy one. Taking her dressing gown from the end of the bed, Fleur placed it over Hermione's shoulders. "It is too long."

Hermione slipped an arm into each sleeve. "Merci."

From below, Fleur heard the door open and shut, then her husband's voice. The sky was black when Bill left, and now its corners were fading to gray. Fleur had worked dutifully, caring for one patient and then the next. She had not let herself think of Bill, possibly in danger, out of her reach. Now, all of that worry rushed at her, making her fingers tremble and her throat dry. He was safe, her Bill, he was home.

Rushing past Hermione and down the stairs, Fleur misplaced her dignity in an effort to reach Bill. He was standing in the foyer, windblown and whole. She stopped just before flinging herself into his arms. Instead, her tremulous hand slipped inside the warmth of his cloak and covered his heart. He smiled at her then, a fraction of a smile meant for her alone.

"Your family, they are safe?" Fleur asked.

Bill nodded. "You have this lot sorted?"

"Oui."

She did not ask for details, those would come later. Instead, Fleur moved into Bill, laying her head on his shoulder and wrapping her arms around his middle. He sighed deeply, his own arms going around her, his cheek resting against her hair. They stood there, in each other's embrace, and shared a quiet moment. Who knew when the next would come?

Closing her eyes to the world, Fleur also shut out her weariness and all thoughts of her houseguests. She breathed in her husband's scent, filled her soul with the feel of him against her, let the comfort of his nearness renew her. Maybe later, she could do the same for him.

"I think the grave is finished."

Pulling back, Fleur looked over her shoulder to see Luna and Hermione standing on the steps. It was Luna who had spoken in her soft, airy voice. Her head was cocked to one side, her eyes innocently moving from the married couple embracing to the shells embedded in the plaster wall. Hermione braced herself on the balustrade, her eyes set on the door and her mouth flat with determination.

"We should pay our respects," Luna said.

"Yes," Bill said. "Excellent idea."

Fleur took her coat from the rack by the door and placed it around Luna's shoulders.

"Thank you." Luna looked at Fleur. "I have been cold for a long time. I will like being warm again."

The girl walked ahead, leaving Bill and Fleur to stare at each other. She did not know if she should laugh or cry after a statement like that. It said so much of what Luna suffered, and yet she might be speaking of the weather. Perhaps the Malfoys had driven Luna insane?

"I know what you're thinking," Bill murmured into her ear before he followed Luna out the door. "And she's always been a bit mad. Family trait."

Fleur let Bill go ahead of her, offering her support to Hermione. The bushy-haired girl shook her head at Fleur's proffered help and moved slowly onto the porch and down the stairs. As the person who had healed Hermione, Fleur was annoyed at the other woman's stubbornness. As a woman, Fleur understood it. Many times, Fleur had felt the sneers of other women or the indulgences of men who thought her weak or stupid. She knew what it felt like to have to prove to the world that she was more than her body and her looks. Hermione would have to show Ron and Harry that she was resilient, or risk having them coddle her or try to leave her out of whatever plans they made. It was never easy to be a woman in a world full of men.

Following Hermione, Fleur was the last to reach the graveside. Hermione stood by Ron who, Fleur was happy to see, put a supportive arm around the woman he loved. Luna was kneeling beside the house-elf, closing his lifeless eyes. They had dressed the small creature in a pair of socks and a wooly hat. He would be warm and well cared for in Fleur's garden.

Bill looked around, his eyes falling on Fleur. She stood beside him, feeling very solemn. At her home in France, they had not owned any house-elves. Her mother thought it a great sin to own another magical being, after all a Veela was not human. It was their beauty that earned them some rights amongst wizards, but they were often used for that beauty as well. Reduced to nothing but a body and sex. Maman would not subjugate a house-elf because it had the misfortune of being born without a Veela's beauty. Luna spoke of the small creature, Dobby, of his bravery. Fleur was reminded that there were more important types of beauty than the one people saw when they looked at her.

Harry could hardly find the words as he stared down into the grave. His grief was deep, but there was a determination underneath. Fleur could feel both emotions, separate yet interlocked. The grief did not feel new, in fact it wrapped Harry like an old and too tight cloak. A bit suffocating but familiar. The determination was like a core of steel only recently forged. Fleur reckoned that the Chosen One should be determined, and yet she worried for the boy she had known since the Tri-Wizard Tournament. That determination burned from him ruthlessly.

Beside her, Bill raised his wand and the pile of earth settled over the grave in a small, reddish mound. She would plant flowers around it, Fleur thought. Thyme flower, for strength and courage, but also because it was earthy and soothing.

"D'you mind if I stay here for a moment?" Harry asked.*

"Of course not," Bill murmured, patting Harry Potter on the back. The young man did not seem to notice. Bill took Fleur's hand, leading her back to Shell Cottage, the others trailing behind. Fleur's mind returned to practicalities. Petit déjeuner. She would be careful of how she fed her guests, to rebuild their strength slowly, but also to make the food last.

oOo

Somebody had laid a fire in the hearth, and Bill was glad of it. It may be spring, but the nights were still cold, and Bill felt chilled to the bone after his travels. The houseguests drifted into the sitting room, heads bowed, quiet. Fleur was already floating into the kitchen, but Bill snagged her apron and pulled her back against him.

"Who needed the Skele-gro?" he asked, fingering the bottle in her apron pocket.

"Griphook, zee goblin." There was the barest trace of annoyance in her voice when she spoke of the goblin, which had Bill smiling.

"I need you to send a message to Percy," he murmured, and Fleur nodded.

"Did you get the family to safety?" Ron asked, his voice interrupting the moment Bill was having with Fleur.

Turning to his brother, Bill nodded. Ron sat on the arm of the chair that Hermione was slumped into, her head leaning against his leg. She looked exhausted, they all did. Even Dean and Luna, sitting on opposite sides of the sofa, were glassy eyed, their heads propped in their hands. Bill slipped his arm around Fleur's shoulders and joined the crowd in his sitting room.

"They're all moved to Muriel's," Bill said. "Even the twins."

"I bet that was fun," Ron snorted. "I'm sure Fred and George were as compliant as ever."

Bill smirked. "That's Fred and George, alright, just like herding kittens."

Ron snorted again, and even Hermione smiled slightly. Bill decided to keep to the facts. They could all laugh over the twins' antics, but he didn't think any of the people before him needed to be burdened with Mum's worry or Ginny's distress. He glanced at the door, knowing that Harry still lingered over Dobby's grave. Maybe Bill was mistaken, but he suspected that Ginny was desperate to see the Boy Who Lived more than anything. She would be grateful for the others' return, but her feelings for Harry burrowed deeper than Bill realized. Did Harry feel the same? Did it matter at this point? Harry had more important things to worry about.

Turning his attention back to Ron, Bill continued, "The twins packed their entire bloody shop. I suspect they'll be running afoul of Mum and Muriel soon enough. I'm just glad I was able to get there in time. We were lucky that Ginny's on holiday. If she'd been at Hogwarts, they could have taken her before we reached her. Now we know she's safe, too."*

The door clicked and Bill looked around to see Harry standing in the threshold, dirt-smeared and red eyed. For Harry's sake, Bill explained that he'd moved the family to Muriel's now that the Death Eaters knew Ron was with Harry. The young man's features pulled tight, his eyes wide and stricken. Instantly, Bill could see that Harry was blaming himself. Some instinct galloped through Bill, familiar and brisk, to make everything all better, just as he had for his younger brothers.

"—don't apologize," Bill said matter-of-factly. "It was always a matter of time, Dad's been saying so for months. We're the biggest blood-traitor family there is."*

Harry's features eased into a neutral expression, but Bill didn't assume that he'd placed his guilt aside.

"How are they protected?" *

Bill explained about the Fidelius charm, noting that another pang of guilt flickered over Harry's face at the mention of work, or rather the lack thereof. Bill was worried about that aspect, as well. They had some money, wizard and Muggle, tucked away upstairs, but how far would that stretch? How long would they be cooped up in this house with so many to feed? This would severely test Fleur's skills at making-do. At least they could move Mr. Ollivander and Griphook to Muriel's soon enough. It would make room and save resources. Harry, however, had other ideas.

"No," Harry said.*

Bill blinked. That wasn't the tone of some teenage kid overburdened by the cares of the world. That was the voice of a leader, a general in the field. Later, maybe, Bill would be proud of the steel he heard in Harry's voice. Certainly it should be a comfort in the Chosen One. At the moment, that old irritation flared up for Harry, Hermione, Ron, Dumbledore, and all of their bloody secrets.

"I need both of them here," Harry continued. "I need to talk to them. It's important."*

Then he excused himself to wash up. Bill, along with all the others, was left to stare after Harry in bewilderment. Even Ron and Hermione looked unsure of their next move. Hermione was sitting up now, frowning after her friend. Ron's brow was knitted. Bill exchanged a look with Fleur, and they moved into the foyer.

"He cannot speak to Griphook and Mr. Ollivander," Fleur hissed. There was something in her expression that reminded Bill of Madam Pomfrey. "Zey are too ill!"

He didn't spare a moment to admire Fleur's vehemence on the behalf of her patients. Staring in the direction of the kitchen, where Harry Potter disappeared only a moment ago, Bill tried to make sense of the past several hours. The urgency of getting his family to safety, the annoyance with Ron and all these secrets, and now the surprise at Harry's forcefulness. Just a short time ago, Bill was cursing Dumbledore's mission, and what seemed like a huge burden for a group of kids. Bill still wanted answers. He was a trained curse breaker, the Order had more than one Auror at their disposal, no one could convince Bill that these skills couldn't be put to good use in whatever Harry's mission was.

Yet, for all of that, Bill's confidence in Harry was growing. Maybe Dumbledore had the right of it, after all? Grudgingly, Bill admitted that the old man usually did. That didn't mean that Bill set aside his concerns. Merlin knew he'd been an over-confident prick at Harry's age, and with a tenth of the responsibilities. It worried Bill that Harry wanted to deal with the goblin. They were mercurial creatures, with their own traditions and worldview—a view that differed greatly from a wizard's.

Harry reappeared, stating his need to see Griphook and Mr. Ollivander. He wasn't rude, but his tone clearly conveyed an order and not a request. Fleur, who didn't respond well to orders on a good day, argued her point anyway. Watching as if from afar, Bill tried to take the measure of the young man before him. He'd always liked Harry. There were times when he thought Harry was brash or unwise, but a good kid.

"Harry, what the hell is going on?" asked Bill. "You turn up here with a dead house-elf and a half-conscious goblin. Hermione looks as though she's been tortured, and Ron's just refused to tell me anything—"*

"We can't tell you what we're doing," said Harry flatly. "You're in the Order, Bill, you know Dumbledore left us a mission. We're not supposed to talk about it to anyone else."*

Beside him, Fleur made an impatient noise, but Bill did nothing. He just stared at Harry. Trying to get information from Harry would be futile. Hadn't Bill beaten his head against that rock with Ron last winter? He also suspected that Harry's request of Bill and Fleur was merely a formality. Harry was going to do whatever the hell he wanted, either way.

"All right," Bill said at last, ignoring another annoyed noise from his wife. "Who do you want to talk to first?"

As Bill watched, Harry seemed to mull over his decision before finally asking for Griphook. What could the old wandmaker and the goblin have in common that Harry needed to speak to both of them so urgently? What did it have to do with this bloody mission? Bill shook the questions out of his head before they drove him mad and motioned for Harry to follow him up the stairs. He stopped for a moment to call for Ron and Hermione, who materialized from the sitting room, looking like children relieved to have been let off the hook for eavesdropping.

"How are you?" Harry asked Hermione.*

From a few steps above, Bill watched the three exchange a few words. It wasn't lost on Bill that Hermione had lied to whoever tortured her. Still, for that brief moment, they didn't look like weary warriors or kids in over their heads, Harry, Ron, and Hermione just looked like kids. Friends who cared deeply for one another. In another life, that's all they should have been.

That golden moment was over in an instant, then Bill was leading them into his bedroom. He spotted vials of potion and piles of clothes that didn't belong to either him or Fleur. Evidence of the room having been put to good use earlier. With Harry, Ron, and Hermione waiting in the room, Bill retrieved the goblin from the small guestroom, carried him into the master bedroom, and laid him on the mattress. As Bill left the room, closing the door behind him, he thought of how annoyed Fleur would be that the goblin was in their bed.

oOo

It was late in the afternoon when Percy got the first inkling that something was amiss. He was hunched over a stack of parchments, the skin across his shoulders tight and painful, when Yaxley marched into the Minister's office. The sour faced man looked directly at Percy, his eyes darkening. The breath caught in Percy's chest, burning. Had his part in the prisoner rescue been discovered?

Before Percy could twitch a muscle, Yaxley disappeared into Thickness's office. Percy took a breath, his mind was running at full gallop. Oliver had reported to the Ministry disguised as Percy on three occasions, leaving with a different malady each time. It had bought Percy two weeks of recovery—something he sorely needed. Between Audrey's nursing and Oliver's exercise routine, Percy had regained enough strength to return just two days ago. No one had shown the least suspicion towards Percy since his return. Had the Aurors discovered something to connect Percy to the prisoner rescue? Had they been careless in some way?

Yaxley remained in conference with Thickness well past quitting time. The Minister's employees were trapped at their desks, unwilling to leave before their boss. It sorely taxed Percy's reserves—he'd left promptly at five the last two days. When the Head Auror emerged from the office, he eyed Percy once again but marched out without a pause. Thickness was only moments behind.

With the sound of the Minister's footsteps receding, the Ministry employees packed up their things and filed into the Atrium to Floo home. No one spoke, they hardly even made eye contact.

"Your father was absent today," said Stuart Belby suddenly, as he and Percy neared the Floo.

"Hm?" Percy looked at the middle-aged man beside him.

"Arthur Weasley, he didn't report to work today."

"Well," Percy said, fighting to keep his expression neutral. "I wouldn't know."

Belby stepped ahead of Percy into the Floo, leaving the bespectacled young man to his thoughts, which were growing increasingly worried. Percy didn't think it was a coincidence Yaxley met so long with Thickness the same day his father didn't come into work. Something had happened. Stomach already roiling, Percy stepped into the Floo, emerged from the toilet on the other side, and promptly became sick.

Stepping out of the stall, there were two of his co-workers washing their hands at the sinks. Neither acknowledged Percy in any way. Shakily, Percy avoided his reflection and turned on the taps to splash water on his face. He didn't need to see his reflection to know that he'd lost all color.

Once he was home, Percy cast every ward he knew, shutting himself and Audrey safely inside.

"I've had word from Fleur," Audrey said promptly. She stripped his outer robes off, then began on his shirt buttons. "She sent a message through the notebook. Ron was captured along with Harry and Hermione."

"What?" Percy jerked back.

Audrey looked up at him with wide eyes. "They're fine, they're at—"

"No! Don't tell me."

Understanding began to dawn on Percy. Maybe he didn't have all the pieces of the puzzle, but enough to see the picture. Knowing that Ron, Harry, and Hermione were captured only to escape again explained Yaxley's interest in Percy and Dad's absence. Percy shouldn't know more, in case he was questioned. Ignorance, it would seem, was bliss.

"Your family is safe," Audrey said.

"Don't say more, please."

She reached out, starting on his buttons again then slid his shirt down his arms. Quietly, she circled around him to inspect the skin across his shoulders. It was ugly, and still painful, but bearable. As Percy understood it, the scarring and tightness would be with him for the rest of his life, but the pain would eventually recede. It was a small price.

Audrey coaxed him into a dining room chair. There was a tray full of potion bottles and pots of salve sitting on the table. Gently, she spread lotion across his shoulders, it smelled of mint and felt cool against his burnt skin. She picked up another vial, that would be the pain reliever, and handed it to Percy.

"Not tonight," Percy murmured, pushing the bottle away. "It's not that bad."

"You don't have to be stoic."

"I'm not, I promise." He closed his eyes, losing his worries for a moment in the softness of Audrey's touch. Honestly, he was bone tired. He would eat a little something because it made Audrey happy, but he just wanted to crawl into bed. Yet, he found himself speaking instead. "Yaxley was meeting with the Minister today—gave me a dirty look."

"Does he suspect that you know where your family is?" Audrey asked. She secured the lid to the salve and set it back on the tray. Then she was standing before Percy, running her fingers through his hair.

"Yes." Percy was surprised by how sure he was of his answer. It made sense, however. Sometimes Percy thought maybe his co-workers forgot he was one of those Weasleys. Certainly, Thickness acted as if Percy didn't even exist, much less acknowledge that a man in his office had ties with a lot of blood traitors. Percy had relied on that anonymity heavily in the last months, doing all he could to be invisible to his superiors. Now, with no other Weasley at hand, it would seem that people had remembered the connection.

Audrey's brow puckered. "Perhaps you shouldn't go into work tomorrow."

"That will just cause more suspicion," Percy replied, shaking his head. "We'll just see how events unfold, shall we?"

"Says the man who just bought his own cell in Azkaban."

"I'll be my most stuffy and unbearable."

"Do you promise?"

"Cross my heart."

Audrey sighed and kissed him. "Loving a Gryffindor is not at all comfortable."

"Exciting, though, right?"

"If you say so." Audrey bustled into the kitchen. "I couldn't be arsed to cook, so I picked up Chinese again. I figure that egg drop soup ought to have the same healing properties as chicken noodle."

"I doubt my mother would agree," Percy replied, smiling.

"Well, she isn't here, is she?" Audrey floated two plates and three containers onto the table. "Are you going to eat topless? Can't say that I mind."

Percy laughed, his mind easing. There was no telling what the next day would bring, but tonight he was going to eat Chinese with Audrey. Though, perhaps he would put a shirt on.

oOo

It was night again. The end of a day that felt like a decade. Bill turned off the taps and reclined in the tub, bubbles up to his armpits, waiting for Fleur. He'd managed a shower sometime around tea, but Fleur had hardly sat down since before dawn. Even now, she was busily making sure that Mr. Ollivander and Griphook were comfortable for the night. Harry, Ron, and Dean were camped out in the sitting room. Even with the furniture pushed against the walls, and Harry being a bit of a runt, there was hardly room for the three males to stretch out—Dean was as tall as Ron. Meanwhile, Luna and Hermione were in the other bedroom.

"Bill?"

He heard the bedroom door click shut.

"In here, love."

The bathroom door opened to reveal Fleur still in her white apron. Her eyes traveled from his bare foot resting on the edge of the tub, to his hairy knee sticking out of the bubbles, to his naked shoulders. Leaning against the doorjamb, Fleur flicked her hair over her shoulders and affected a pout.

"There's room for two," Bill said, grinning. He'd magically extended the tub before drawing the bath.

"Oh?"

"And there's this." He picked up a glass of red wine and extended it to her.

Fleur accepted, closing her eyes and taking a long sip. For a moment, she stood with the wine glass cradled against her chest, doing nothing. Bill knew she was tired—but she also looked weary. Setting the glass on the edge of the tub, she removed the apron and began stripping out of clothes she'd worn since the previous day, revealing porcelain skin and peach peaks and silvery fuzz. Finally, she wrenched her hair into a bun and stepped into the tub, settling between his legs and leaning her head against his chest.

"Can we stay here forever?" she asked huskily, eyes closed.

"'Til the end of time," Bill murmured into her ear. "We'll turn into prunes together."

"I can't remember if I brushed my teeth today."

"Charming." After a moment, Bill added, "It'll get easier from here, love."

"Will it?"

Silence settled into the little room. Bill leaned his head back against the edge of the tub, his arms around Fleur. Her eyes remained closed, and he thought maybe she had fallen asleep. Even his randy parts couldn't begrudge her that. This moment, closed away from the world and their houseguests, would surely be a rare bit of peace. He'd said it would get easier from here—at best that was wishful thinking, at worst it was an outright lie. It wasn't the number of people in their home that set Bill's nerves on end, certainly he knew something of having a large number of bodies crammed under one roof. No, it was something in Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

After their meetings with Griphook and Mr. Ollivander that morning, Harry had spent most of the day sitting on the cliff's edge alone. Hermione had rested, Ron hovering not far from her side. They were waiting for something, Bill thought, though he had no idea what that could be. He forced those thoughts from his mind. Circling around those three and their secrets was likely to drive him mad.

Instead, Bill focused on his incredible wife. He wrapped both arms around her shoulders and kissed her temple. Merlin, she was brilliant. Capable and bossy and impertinent. He smiled when he thought of her yelling at Ron and standing up to Harry.

"Fleur?" he whispered in case she really was asleep.

"Hm?"

"What were you doing, wasting your time at Gringotts?"

"I was not wasting my time, I met you."

"You should have been in the Healer's program at St. Mungo's."

Fleur didn't say anything.

"Maybe after the war," Bill added.

Tears slipped down Fleur's cheeks. "I do not want to be a Healer."

"Hey, what is this? What's the matter?"

Fleur shook her head, her hair scrubbing against Bill's nostrils. "It is nothing."

"Well, obviously, because you just turn into a watering pot on a moment's notice."

Fleur pouted, then, "Watering pot?"

"Don't change the subject. Why are you crying?" Bill brushed his lips along her hairline.

Fleur stared blankly at the tiled wall, but Bill waited. There were plenty of reasons for her to be crying. Starting with being stranded in a foreign country at war with itself and ending with watching as Ron devoured three sandwiches at supper that night. Bill doubted those were the reasons though. With his arms around her, Bill just held on.

"I am tired," Fleur said at last. "Do not listen to me."

"We're all tired, but you asked me to confide in you not so many months ago, I would ask you to do the same. Let me help you."

Fleur snuffled in an unladylike manner. "Merci. It is…it is Hermione…and Mr. Ollivander…a-and Percy. It is everything."

She laid her head against his arm, looking desolate.

"I do not want to be a Healer, Bill. I know zat I would be very good at it, but non." She shook her head, wiping at tears that leaked from her eyes.

"Then you don't have to be."

"I am just so-so sick of zis evil, mon Bill. Zee terrible zings wizards do to zee bodies of other wizards. And why? Why would somebody torture zat brilliant girl? I do not understand. I am tired, and my heart is sick."

Tears rolled down her face, splashing into the bath water. Bill made quiet shushing sounds, wrapping his arms more tightly around her. Not for the first time, he wished he could take Fleur far away from England and the war. Some place warm, with blue skies and no dark wizards. He leaned his head against her hair, feeling the weight of her confession in his own heart, and knowing there was nothing he could do except just hold on tight.

Notes:

*Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by JK Rowling, Chapter 24 The Wandmaker, page 481

*Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by JK Rowling, Chapter 24 The Wandmaker, page 477

*Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by JK Rowling, Chapter 24 The Wandmaker, page 482

*Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by JK Rowling, Chapter 24 The Wandmaker, page 482

*Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by JK Rowling, Chapter 24 The Wandmaker, page 484

Chapter 49

"Who?"

The burled oak door of the Minister of Magic's office belched Thickness into the reception area where Percy and his co-workers were busily doing busy work. Thickness's vacant, rheumy eyes looked about the office, his thumbs hooked in the pockets of his waistcoat. Yaxley emerged behind the Minister, compact and lethal, eyeing Thickness with disdain.

"Weatherby?" Thickness blabbered.

"Weasley," Yaxley hissed, glaring at Percy with leashed violence.

Thickness looked at Percy as if he'd never noticed the lanky redhead in his office before. "Ah. Weasley. Right. Hasn't been in contact with his family in ages, has he? Disowned, I heard."

Percy fought to remain completely still. He didn't even raise his head from the parchment on his desk, just his eyes. Days had passed since his family disappeared. Rumor had it that the Auror department was in an uproar trying to track them down. It was with some pride that Percy knew Dad and Bill had given Death Eaters and Aurors the slip. Still, until this moment, Percy was beginning to believe that the whole world had forgotten his connection to the Weasleys.

Evidently, Yaxley had a long memory.

The man sneered at the Minister. "If that's the case, then he'll be happy to speak with me."

"Suit yourself," Thickness said.

Percy's wand was in the inner pocket of his robes. He didn't make a move for it. Sitting up straight, he placed each hand on the desk. His heart was racing in his chest, but Percy fought to keep a neutral expression. Thickness thought that Percy had been disowned, surely he wasn't the only one. That was a part that Percy could play, if he must. He had just three objectives: 1) Give no helpful information on the whereabouts of his family 2) Remain alive 3) Don't let Yaxley get him alone.

Those last two were rather inextricably linked.

Yaxley looked over Percy for long moments, then his lips peeled back to bare square, white teeth. "The Prodigal Son."

"I've heard that before. It suggests that I am lost or seek forgiveness. Neither is true."

"No loyalties to family?"

"My loyalties are to the Ministry, sir."

Each word twisted in Percy's gut. It wasn't so long ago that they would have been true, he was counting on that to make his performance believable.

"What does a blood traitor know about loyalty?" sneered Yaxley. "You've certainly shown no loyalty to your own kind."

Percy stared back at the man, then forced the words past his lips, "I'm afraid you have me confused for one of my brothers."

The weight of half a dozen eyes bore down on Percy. His co-workers were so still and quiet they may have ceased to breathe altogether. He couldn't count on these people. If Yaxley decided to torture him, or kill him, no one would step in to stop it. Maybe it was cowardice or self-preservation, Percy didn't care. And yet, perversely, he hated for these people to believe the things that he was saying.

"Do I?" Yaxley said. He took a step towards Percy's desk. "I don't think I do. I think that under those neatly pressed robes is a true Weasley. A poor, sanctimonious bastard not fit for the title wizard."

"Believe what you will."

"Where is your family, Weasel?"

"I haven't the slightest."

And that was the truth at last.

"They didn't care enough about you to ensure your safety, why would you bother to protect them?"

Percy looked at Yaxley. "I'm not protecting them. I don't know where they are."

"Come with me." Yaxley turned on his heel, fully expecting Percy to follow.

"Why would I do that?"

Yaxley whipped around and said, "You are required in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement for questioning as to the whereabouts of the Weasley family, Mr. Weasley."

"That seems like a waste of both of our time. I've already told you that I don't know where they are."

The other man's weathered skin turned red, his mouth drawn into a deep frown. He might be the lackey of He-Who-Must-Not-Be Named, but Yaxley was a totalitarian in his own right. He was accustomed to barking orders and having them followed. There was something thrilling about being the one to defy him. Percy found it difficult not to smirk into that enraged face bearing down on him. Was this what it was like to be Fred and George? Merlin, Percy couldn't help but wonder what was wrong with him. He should be scared out of his wits—and he was, of course, but that just seemed to add to the thrill.

"You'll come with me," Yaxley ordered.

Percy fought to keep his expression bland. "I think not. I have a great deal of work to do here, and as I've said many times now, I do not know where my family is, sir."

Yaxley slammed both hands down on Percy's desk, knocking a stack of parchments to the floor. Every person in the room gasped, drawing back, even Percy. The other man shoved his face near the red head's, snarling. It seemed prudent to show fear, certainly that was what Yaxley wanted to see.

"You are wanted for questioning."

"Return with a court order, Mr. Yaxley, and I'll comply."

"You are impeding an on-going investigation, Mr. Weasley. Some would see that as betrayal of the Ministry…even treason."

"And some would say that you are violating my civil rights."

The two men stared at each other.

"Where is your family?" Yaxley growled.

"I don't know. As you said, they did not see fit to protect me, and they surely did not see any point in telling me their whereabouts."

"Liar!"

"Why would I lie? Sir."

Yaxley thrust this wand into Percy's face. His heart galloped into his gullet, forcing bile into his mouth. Percy knew that he'd played his hand as far as it would go. There was just one more card to lay down, but it required Yaxley to be a reasonable man. That seemed like quite the gamble.

"You'll come with me, now, Weasley."

"And what happens if I don't?" Percy said through clenched teeth, giving up the pretense of fear. "Will you torture me in front of all these witnesses?"

Slowly, Yaxley straightened, his face a mask of controlled rage. Percy didn't dare to take his eyes off of the other man, and so he saw it coming and still couldn't stop it. Searing pain wrenched through Percy. Screaming, he pitched out of his chair, cracking his head against the desk as he toppled to the floor in agony. Cruciatus. The pain centered in his spine, just under the tender skin of his burn scars. It was like having them ripped open and set afire again. Pain. Pain. Pain.

It was gone. Percy took a gasping breath, spots before his eyes.

"Good day, Mr. Weasley."

From his spot on the floor, Percy could see Yaxley's boots walk away. With a shaking hand, he touched his forehand, feeling the stickiness of his own blood. In all his life, Percy could not have imagined a pain to equal that of the Fiendfyre. He'd been wrong. That was like being electrocuted, pulses of lightening surging through his very blood vessels.

"Percy?" Mrs. Topple's kind face appeared over his, tears on her cheeks. "Are you all right, dearie?"

"I will be."

oOo

"Full moon next week."

Bill looked up, stray hairs blowing into his face, to see his little brother striding across the beach towards him. Taking a rock from his palm, Bill smoothed his thumb over it, then chucked it out to sea just to watch the water ripple. This wasn't quite the same as skipping rocks on the pond at home. The ebb of the ocean ate the rocks much too quickly. Still, it was better than being in the house, where his wife was stressed, and no help from him alleviated that.

"Can't be stopped, I'm afraid," Bill replied and offered a rock to Ron.

"What are you going to do about it?" Ron took the rock, holding it, staring at it.

"Fleur and I are going to come down here, set up some wards to keep the others from knowing."

"I'll help," Ron mumbled.

Bill looked at his brother, who was still staring at the rock. "Alright."

One of Ron's eyebrows quirked up, like he was surprised that Bill accepted his offer so easily. He probably should have been. Even Bill was a bit surprised, but what the hell? Ron had already seen the worst of it. They didn't say anything for a while after, and Bill went back to tossing rocks into the ocean. In the days since the refugees had arrived at Shell Cottage, battered and sick, there had been more silent moments than Bill could count. It seemed odd that a house full to bursting could contain so much quiet, but the melancholy was thick. Glancing over his shoulder, Bill easily located Harry Potter where he brooded on the cliffside.

"It was Bellatrix Lestrange," Ron said suddenly.

Bill glanced at his brother, but said nothing.

Ron gripped the rock in his hand, his knuckles white with strain, but he didn't look at Bill. "She used the Cruciatus curse on Hermione."

"How long?" Bill asked quietly.

Ron blew out a gush of breath. "Felt like hours…. Me and Harry and the rest—we were locked in a dungeon. I couldn't get to her."

"You must have been out of your mind."

Ron nodded, tears rolling down his long nose. "Yeah."

Closing his eyes, Bill tried to keep his trembling emotions from spilling over. Torture didn't happen in silence. He imagined the screams, the pleading, Bellatrix's cackle—there was no doubt in Bill's mind that evil witch enjoyed her work. And Ron. Unable to get to Hermione. A lump lodged painfully in Bill's throat.

"Then Dobby showed up…and there was a chance to save her…. The only place I could think to take her, the only place she would be safe was here—Shell Cottage."

Bill turned to his brother and dragged him into a fierce hug. Ron made a noise—an ugly one in the back of his nasal cavity—then a sob wrenched out of his chest. He slumped against Bill's shoulder, crying, but only for a moment. Soon, too soon, he pulled away and wiped his eyes. Bill mimicked the gesture, moisture on his cheeks.

"When I got here," Ron rasped. "I was—"

"Out of your mind," Bill said, his own voice like grit.

"I was an arse."

"So was I. Brothers."

"Thanks…for what you did for her. For all of us."

Bill shook his head. "C'mon," he said and turned back to the ocean. "Four skips is the best I've been able to do. Let's see if you can do better."

Ron snuffled. "Bloody hell, Ginny could do better."

"She'd also beat the hell out of you for dismissing her."

"Percy could do better."

Bill laughed. "There you go. Let's see what you've got."

oOo

Floating a pair of lunch trays beside her, Fleur knocked on the door to the guestroom where Mr. Ollivander and Griphook were convalescing. She heard the old man's frail voice call her in, but Fleur took a moment to brace herself. Every encounter with that goblin left Fleur's skin crawling and her mood foul. Plastering a bright smile to her face, Fleur pushed through.

"Bonjour! I have come with your lunches. Today, Mr. Ollivander, I zink we will try a chicken noodle soup wiz crusty bread. We will see how you tolerate it, oui?"

The old man pushed himself up against his pillows, smiling slightly as Fleur lowered the tray over his lap.

"I need to talk to Harry Potter, girl," Griphook sneered, pushing aside his own plate of fungi and roots.

"My name is Fleur," she bit off.

Griphook sneered. "One human is much like another, even with a tiny drop of Veela blood. Get me Harry Potter."

Huffing, Fleur flounced out of the room and down the stairs, intent on the cliff side where Harry had held vigil over the last three days. She delivered her message, Harry much more polite in his acceptance, and so it began. Days would turn into weeks, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione were huddled into the guest room with Griphook, emerging only for meals. It did not require great brilliance to know that the trio of Gryffindors were plotting something with the cantankerous goblin, yet nobody commented on it. Still, her Bill watched them, his eyes full of concern and contemplation.

One night, as they lie in bed, a cool breeze wafting over them from the open window, Bill finally voiced his concerns.

"What do you think they are planning with Griphook?"

Fleur traced the scars on his hand where it lie on her chest, answering honestly, "I do not know."

"Do you think they know what they're getting themselves into? Dealing with a goblin?"

Again she was honest, "No, but zey will not listen to you, mon Bill, no matter how wise you are. Zey are set on zeir course, you will not change zeir minds."

"I know." He sighed. "But I have to try."

Still, the days stretched on, one much like another. Dean asked for parchment and a pencil. When not helping with chores, he could be found in a quiet place, filling the page with sketches. Luna helped Fleur set in the vegetable garden, or sat with Mr. Ollivander and read to him from Bill's library. It came as a surprise to Fleur, but she enjoyed Luna's company the most. In the too-small house filled with humidity and emotion, Luna was the sea on a cloudless day, serene.

Finally, the tension came to a head one night, when Bill reported that Griphook wanted a tray in his room. Again. At first, Fleur had been happy to take both Griphook and Mr. Ollivander trays in their room, being invalids. However, Griphook's leg was long healed. He was being rude, and Fleur would not tolerate it.

"Non!" Fleur snapped at her husband, the plates hovering to the table slammed down with a ringing clatter. "I will no longer make two trays. He may join us or starve!"

"Fleur, Griphook is injured—" Hermione started as she placed a knife at the place setting.

"He was injured, and now he is healed. You know zis as much as I do. He does not wish to join us because he is rude."

"He's not comfortable with wizards…."

"He does not like wizards, zere is a difference."

"Fleur's right, Hermione," Dean said. "Griphook is…difficult."

"I'll get him," Bill said, smirking before kissing Fleur's forehead.

Fleur looked around, noting that Ron was also smirking, but that Harry seemed uncomfortable. He would not look at Fleur, his forehead wrinkled with worry. Indignation was replaced with contriteness. The last thing Fleur wished to do was upset any of her guests. Well, perhaps Griphook, a bit.

The goblin joined them at the table after that, though he was a sullen presence casting a pall over an already strained table. At first, it was easy to pretend that they were a house party. Fleur and Bill, along with Dean, Luna, Hermione, and Ron, would carry on conversation over meals, but this became more difficult as time wore on. There were only so many times that Fleur could ask Dean what he had drawn that day, or for Ron to reminisce about Hogwarts before they ran out of things to say.

Finally, came the night when Mr. Ollivander was well enough to travel to Auntie Muriel's. Fleur liked the old man, but she was glad to have one less body in Shell Cottage. She just wished she could send the goblin with him. She also hoped that Bill would hurry back from taking Mr. Ollivander to stay with his family. There were several times that he had to leave Shell Cottage for supplies, and each time left Fleur sick with worry.

The only thing for Fleur to do was to keep busy. She could hear Luna upstairs saying her farewells to the old man and the rumble of Bill's voice as he gave last minute instructions. Fleur went into the kitchen and put on her apron to prepare that night's supper. She was not surprised when Harry Potter joined her, they all took turns helping with meals.

He started to tear up a head of lettuce, then said, "I'm sorry. I never meant you to have to deal with all of this."*

Setting the knives to chopping up steaks for Bill and Griphook, Fleur looked at the young man standing at her butcher's block, wondering what he meant by "all of this." The war? The houseguests? Griphook? Those were small things if it meant they would win the war with You-Know-Who. Even if she was not already dedicated to helping in the war in whatever way she could, Fleur owed Harry Potter so much.

"Harry, you saved my sister's life, I do not forget." *

He made a face, as if he thought her argument was not a sound one. Fleur decided to ignore this, it was typical of men to dismiss her emotions, and even more for Harry to feel as though he did not measure up to some imaginary standard. She pointed her wand at the saucepan and prattled on about Mr. Ollivander leaving and the sleeping arrangements until Harry said something she could not ignore.

"We'll be off your hands soon too, Ron, Hermione, and I. We won't be here much longer."*

"But what do you mean?" Fleur frowned at Harry. She had just taken a casserole dish from the oven and it was suspended in midair as Fleur stared at Harry, trying in vain to find some clue about what he was planning. "Of course you must not leave, you are safe here!"*

Before she could say more, the backdoor opened and Luna and Dean walked in, arms full of driftwood, hair wet from the rain that had rolled in earlier that day. Luna was blathering on about some imaginary creature. Dean looked at Harry as he passed, shrugging helplessly. Just like a man, Harry grabbed two pitchers of pumpkin juice and escaped into the other room before Fleur could say more.

Fleur set the hot dish on the worktop, contemplating Harry Potter. Whatever he was planning with Ron, Hermione, and that goblin, it must be ready to put into action if he was ready to leave. Fleur knew she must tell Bill, but she would worry about that later. With the burden of this knowledge came great concern. She knew that she would do nothing to stop them, and yet she could not ignore the belly-deep fear that overtook her when she thought of Harry, Ron, and Hermione leaving to embark on this mad scheme of theirs. The only help Fleur could offer was a prayer that they would all be alive on the other side.

There was commotion from the other room, Fleur brushed aside her concerns as she brushed flour from her hands. Walking into the foyer, she found Bill standing at the foot of the stairs, Mr. Ollivander leaning heavily on his arm. The wandmaker shared a fond farewell with Luna, and Fleur waited her turn. She bid the old man au revoir, asking him to return Auntie Muriel's tiara at last. She even eased open the old, velvet case to show everybody the exquisite piece—if there was one thing that the British did well, it was tiaras.

"Moonstones and diamonds," Griphook said. Fleur jumped, she had not realized the goblin had entered the room. "Made by goblins, I think?"*

"And paid for by wizards," Bill replied quietly, earning a sour look from Griphook.*

A strong wind gusted against the house as Bill led Mr. Ollivander out. Dean and Harry fetched dishes from the kitchen as the others began crowding around the table. For a moment, Fleur stared at the door, then she shook herself and carried on.

oOo

"Mr. Ollivander, read this please." Bill handed the old wandmaker a scrap of parchment with Muriel's address scrawled across it. They were standing in Muriel's garden, the portico just a few steps away, but it would appear invisible to Mr. Ollivander until he read that address.

"Ah," Mr. Ollivander rasped, his eyes growing wider. "Very nice magic there, son. Your wand was exceptionally springy, as I recall. Twelve inches, suggesting a flare for drama and elegance. Your brother Percy also had a twelve inch wand, though his was rather more rigid."

"Well, that's Perce for you, always a stick in the mud."

Bill helped Mr. Ollivander up the stairs to the front door, which was opened by his father. The old man was huffing, shuffling his feet, by the time they had him settled into the sitting room. Dad had suggested he go straight to his room, but Mr. Ollivander demurred, saying he couldn't possibly make it up the stairs at this time.

"Garrick!" Muriel burst into the room, smiling, to sit by the old man on the settee. She took both of his hands in hers. "I cannot tell you how pleased I was when Arthur told me you were alive, my dear."

"I, too, was gladdened upon hearing the news," Mr. Ollivander replied.

"However did you survive?"

"I think the fates were not done with me quite yet." He pulled the velvet box Fleur had given him from his pocket. "Your tiara, dear, returned."

"Ah!" She smiled, eyeing Bill beadily. "I was beginning to think that French hussy had stolen it."

"That's my wife," Bill growled.

"Well, there's no accounting for taste, is there?"

Bill opened his mouth, but shut it again when he felt Dad tugging on his sleeve. Following Dad through the house, they found Mum in the kitchen putting the last touches on a roast. Dutifully, Bill bent to kiss her on the cheek, all the time chastising himself for rising to Muriel's well-barbed bait. Honestly, there was no point in sparring with the old dragon.

"You wouldn't know it," Dad said, "but Muriel is quite pleased to have Mr. Ollivander here."

Mum dusted flour from her hands. "How are Harry, Ron, and Hermione, dear?"

"Well." He wouldn't mention that they were busy plotting something with Griphook, that would only give Mum and Dad more to worry about which was the last thing they needed. Besides, Dad might feel compelled to tell Kingsley, and Bill suspected that was the last thing Harry, Ron, and Hermione would want. While Bill had his concerns about whatever plans they were making, he had resolved to support them if he could.

"Will you stay for supper?" Mum asked.

"No, Fleur worries any time I have to leave Shell Cottage. In fact, I should hurry back."

"Say 'hello' to your brothers and sister before you leave. They are bored out of their minds and up to mischief." She rolled her eyes at this last pronouncement.

After kissing his mother's cheek one more time and shaking Dad's hand, Bill went upstairs to find Fred and George and Ginny. It wasn't hard. He just had to follow the bangs and giggles. Pushing open the last door on the top floor, Bill was assaulted by a haze of purple smoke and George cursing at Fred. It was like being at home all over again.

"Some things never change," Bill said, waving his wand and dissipating the smoke. It did not disappear—in fact, it seemed to grow thicker and darker. Coughing, Bill asked, "What the hell is this stuff?"

"New defensive smoke pellet," Fred's voice answered from somewhere inside the smoke.

"Use it for distraction while you're escaping, or misdirection if you're on the attack," George chimed in. "What should we call it, Fred?"

Fred coughed. "No See Smoke Screen."

"No breathe is more like it," Ginny coughed.

Bill didn't see her until a small hand latched onto his wrist.

"C'mon," she said, pulling him into the hall. "We'll let these two suffocate in peace."

Bill took a great breath as soon as he was in Muriel's musty old corridors. The combination of old dust and flowery guest soaps wasn't much better, but at least his lungs no longer felt like they were burning. Looking at his baby sister, Bill smiled his gratitude.

"How you holding up with those two gits, Gin-a-bug?"

Ginny waved her hand. "Fred and George aren't so bad. They've been running an owl-order business out of Muriel's back room. I've never seen so much money, Bill."

"Leave it to Fred and George to land on their feet."

"Mum doesn't know about it yet. She's too busy trying to placate Auntie Muriel. She goes spare every time there's a bang from their room." She looked at Bill pointedly. "How are Harry and the rest?"

Bill's shoulders stiffened. Of course, she would ask about Harry, Ron, Hermione, Luna, and Dean, but Bill doubted his sister's intentions were that innocent. He remembered the desperation that had oozed out of Ginny the night they went into hiding. There was a wild gleam deep in her dark eyes that made Bill uncomfortable.

"Well," he replied, echoing his answer to his mum when she asked the same thing.

"Do they ever ask about me?"

"Luna, Hermione, and Ron have, yes."

Ginny frowned. "I need to see them, Bill."

"No."

"You haven't even listened to me!"

"It won't change my mind, Ginny, I can't take you back to Shell Cottage. It's too dangerous."

There was more to it. Bill knew that Ginny wanted to see all of her friends, assure herself in person that they were well, but she was frantic to see Harry Potter. Whatever was between the two of them was more than puppy love, Bill understood that no matter how much he might like to deny it, but how deep it went he couldn't guess. Despite that, Harry hadn't asked about Ginny once. He was always quietly eager to hear any news of her, but he wouldn't be the one to bring up the subject. Bill suspected that Harry not only didn't want to see Ginny, he couldn't. Whatever was ahead of Harry was dangerous and lonely. It wasn't something he could drag Ginny into. It wasn't something Bill wanted Ginny to be a part of.

"It's been so long!" Ginny said, her voice rising with each word. "I've not seen them or heard from them. Do you know how I've hung on each bit of gossip? I just, I want to see them with my own eyes."

"You know I'd do anything for you—"

"Then prove it!"

"I can't, Ginny," Bill said, looking directly in her eyes.

Tears welled up there. "I'm not a little girl anymore, Bill. I don't need you to protect me. Do you have any idea…. I can take care of myself!"

"I know that, Ginny, and the answer is still 'no'."

It was then that Bill realized that he would have to be the bad guy. He couldn't tell Ginny that Harry didn't want to see her, he couldn't break her heart like that. Bill also knew that Ginny wouldn't let go of this without a fight. In fact, she wouldn't let go at all. Harry Potter was going to owe Bill big time for this.

"Take me with you, Bill, just for a little while," she pleaded latching onto his crossed arms. "Just-just an hour."

"Ginny, it's not only you I'm trying to protect. Every time one of us leaves the house we are in jeopardy of exposure. That's too big a risk for—"

"I'm not asking you to take me to the Leaky Cauldron, just from one protected house to another."

Bill shook his head. "No."

Her eyes narrowed and she pulled away. "That's two of my best friends, my brother, my ex-boyfriend, and-and Harry. I need to see them."

"I'll take a message to them, but you'll have to be quick."

"That's not the same!" She turned on her heel, red hair flying all around her. "I thought you loved me best, Bill Weasley!"

Notes:

*Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by JK Rowling, Chapter 25 Shell Cottage, pages 510-511

*Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by JK Rowling, Chapter 25 Shell Cottage, page 512

Chapter 50

Notes:

Starting Monday, I'll be posting every day through the end of the story. This comes at the suggestion of my beta, who didn't think I should break the flow of those chapters by posting weekly. Thank you, BurgundyHope, for everything!

*psst!* (Guys, it's Chapter 50! Can you believe it?)

Fleur pushed the potato across her plate, glancing at the darkened window. Outside, the wind pummeled her little home, but inside, they were crammed together at the dinner table like so many sardines, a fire crackling in the hearth. Bill would return any moment—this is what Fleur told herself time and again. He had only been gone a short time, no need to worry yet. That yet kept tangling Fleur in its web.

The first course was hardly over before Bill came striding into the sitting room with his long hair tangled, his skin raw from windburn. The fang swung from his earlobe and his eyes glittered as they swept the room, landing on Fleur. Journeying into the outside world, even as far as Muriel's, agreed with Bill. Fleur was envious, and also desirous.

"Everything's fine,"* he told her. Bill knew how she worried. He reported all of the gossip from the family, including the unhappy news that Muriel suspected them of theft.

Fleur huffed, waving her wand at the dirty plates causing them to rise from the table and stack themselves. "Ah, she is charmante, your aunt." Fleur caught the stack, marching into the kitchen. Infernal British women, always blaming Fleur for their misfortunes just because she was French and Veela. She set the plates on the counter, about to cut the cake she made for dessert, when she heard banging on the front door.

Forgetting the dishes, and how much she hated Muriel, Fleur ran into the sitting room. Bill was already standing, his wand pointed at the door, Harry, Ron, and Hermione as well. Fleur's heart was in her throat. There were very few people in this world who knew how to find Shell Cottage, and most of them were in this room. Only disaster could bring somebody to their door.

"Who is it?" Bill called.*

"It is I, Remus John Lupin!" called a voice over the howling wind. "I am a werewolf, married to Nymphadora Tonks, and you, the Secret-Keeper of Shell Cottage, told me the address and bade me to come in an emergency."*

Bill ran to the door, wrenching it open to reveal Remus who stumbled over the threshold. He was pale and windswept in his tatty traveling cloak, but Fleur sensed an energy in him that was new. It was not fear that vibrated through the older man, but happiness so great he was nearly bursting with it.

"It's a boy!" Lupin shouted. "We've named him Ted, after Dora's father." *

Fleur pressed her hands to her chest, joy blossoming there. Tonks had the baby. There was no need to ask if all was well, it was written all over Remus' face. Such pride and happiness and, yes, disbelief mingled in that aged face, erasing the years and hardships. Fleur squealed her congratulations along with the others.

From his spot by the door, Bill's eyes sought out Fleur's. Remus was spreading his joy throughout the room. Dimly, Fleur was aware of him embracing Harry and asking that he be godfather, but it could be happening on another planet for all that Fleur cared. At the moment, she was caught in her husband's gaze as they shared a private celebration just their own. The birth of a child, so ordinary and yet extraordinary in every way. By coming here with his news, Remus had made them all a part of the moment when a new life began.

This was not like when Mary gave birth to Pax in this very room. For once, after so many long months, there was no shadow of death hanging over the moment. Only joy, and maybe a small scrap of hope. It filled Fleur, it tied her to Bill whose own emotions shone in his eyes.

"We must toast this auspicious occasion," Bill exclaimed, breaking the moment. He dashed off to fetch a bottle of wine from the kitchen.

"Oui," Fleur said. She took Remus' hands, smiling. "You must let us toast your good fortune, and zee health of zee baby and Tonks."

"I shouldn't…" Remus demurred, but there was no conviction in his words. He would stay, just for this little while, and be happy with his friends.

oOo

Opening a second bottle of wine, Bill happily filled goblet after goblet until he was face to face once more with Remus Lupin. Someone toasted the health of little Teddy, and the two men clinked glasses, taking hardy sips.

"Fatherhood agrees with you," Bill said. "I've never seen you so happy."

Remus' smile didn't fade, but he confessed, "I've rarely had reason to be this happy. The moment I saw Teddy in Dora's arms…. Well."

Bill looked away. The expression on Remus' face was too open, too raw. It spoke of humility and devotion, emotions that were not often laid bare so publicly. Yet if any man deserved a moment of such sheer happiness, it was certainly Remus Lupin. In the years Bill had known the older man, he had always seemed stoic and resilient. It was only seeing Remus moved by the birth of his son that Bill realized how little true joy the other man must have known in his life.

"And he's well? Truly?" Bill asked.

It was a difficult question to ask, especially as the other occupants of Shell Cottage were overcome with happiness, but Bill needed to know. Fleur was so confident that Lycanthropy couldn't touch a child of theirs, and Bill wanted to believe that. Hell, logically he knew that the affliction was only passed through the bite of a werewolf, but fear so seldom had anything to do with logic. Bill needed to know.

"Yes," Remus said. "I asked that his blood be tested, and there was no contamination, but we'll know for sure in a month, won't we?"

Bill heaved a deep breath. "Good. Excellent."

Remus patted his shoulder. "I understand."

They shared a kind of uneasy smile, and Bill excused himself. He looked around for Fleur, but his eyes fell on the goblin instead. Slinking out of the room, and up the stairs like a thief in the night, seemingly untouched by the festive mood around him. Goblins were unsentimental. In all his years at Gringotts, Bill had never known the goblins to celebrate a birthday or marriage or promotion. They didn't even dwell over the death of one of their own. Once in Egypt, a tomb collapsed on top of two goblins and a wizard, killing them all. It had taken twenty minutes to dig out the bodies and send them to the morgue. The goblins carried on as though nothing happened. Bill could only imagine that Griphook was even less moved by the birth of another wizard.

Bill turned away from the fleeing goblin, noticing that Harry was watching him. It wasn't the first time. Bill didn't really know Harry Potter, and having the young man in his home these last weeks hadn't changed that. What Bill knew, he knew from Ron, the twins, and even Fleur. He knew that his little sister was besotted with Harry Potter, and that it was more than a celebrity crush. He knew that his mother loved the boy as another son. All of that was enough to gain Bill's trust. What's more, Bill observed a young man who was burdened with the weight of the world, and yet still tried to do right by all those around him. Certainly, Harry Potter had earned the right to a bit of selfishness, but it wasn't in him. Bill admired that.

Still, for all the trust that Bill placed in Harry, he didn't think the sentiment went both ways. If Bill had to guess, he thought maybe that Harry was a bit wary of him, or maybe it was more to the point to say that Harry feared what Bill might have perceived of the plan he was hatching with Griphook. It was a reasonable concern. Without knowing whatever Harry, Ron, and Hermione were planning, Bill was sure that it was outrageously dangerous—probably even foolhardy.

"Good-bye, good-bye…."*

Remus was pulling his traveling cloak around himself. Just as quickly as he came, he was leaving again, promising pictures. Playing the good host, Bill shook Remus' hand at the door, wishing him luck one more time. Then the other man walked into the blustery dark and out of sight.

"Godfather, Harry!" said Bill as they walked into the kitchen together, helping clear the table. "A real honor! Congratulations!"*

Outside the kitchen, the party continued in Remus' absence. In fact, Bill didn't think anybody had noticed that he and Harry had left the room, which was a bit of good luck as far as Bill was concerned. Harry might not believe it, but Bill had no intention of trying to stop him from doing whatever it was he thought he had to do. That didn't mean Bill couldn't offer advice—no matter how unsolicited.

How much could Harry know about Goblins? Most kids paid little to no attention to Professor Binns, but even if they did, History of Magic offered a rather skewed account of wizard-goblin relations. There were two sides to every story, and the losing side rarely had theirs told. It was only from living with goblins that a wizard could truly begin to understand their race, much less their way of thinking. Bill felt as though he had a duty to warn Harry about what he was getting into with Griphook.

Bill shut the door to the kitchen and turned to Harry. "I wanted a private word, actually, Harry."*

oOo

"You could not help yourself!" Fleur accused.

Bill sat on their bed, taking out his earring and dropping it into a dish on the bedside table. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Your tête-à-tête wiz Harry."

"Not that it did a damn bit of good, I'm sure."

Fleur set her brush down on the vanity and climbed into bed. "It is good, zat you talked to him. He told me tonight zat zey plan to leave soon."

Bill swore viciously.

"I tried to talk him out of it. I told him zat zey were safe here."

Bill shook his head. "Whatever they are doing is one step closer to ending this bloody war. They have to go."

"Well, I do not like it," Fleur huffed. She flopped back against her pillows, arms folded, pouting.

Bill put out the candles with a wave of his wand, then rolled so that Fleur was half under his body. "I'm sure Harry took into account what Fleur Weasley wanted."

"Oh. You. Do not make fun of me." Fleur swatted his arm half-heartedly.

He nipped the soft skin of her neck, and Fleur giggled. "You were rather silly over Remus tonight. Should I be jealous?"

"Absolutely! I will run off wiz him tomorrow and be his baby's nurse." Fleur ran her hand through Bill's hair, easing onto her side so that they were facing each other. Softly, she asked, "And you are all right wiz zis?"

"You running off with Remus?"

"Bill."

He sighed. "How can I be okay with my baby brother running headlong into danger? The world is turned upside down, I'm forced to accept the unacceptable."

Fleur snuggled close, her arms around him. "Zis, what zey are doing, it will bring zee end. I can feel it."

Who was Bill to argue with Fleur's intuition? He ran a hand down her spine, settling it in the small of her back. With everything that he was, Bill wanted an end to this war. He wanted his family safe. He wasn't sure he could have both. It was hard to dwell even on those dark thoughts with Fleur's hands on his body.

"Zee future is uncertain, mon Bill," she whispered, tracing the scars across his chest. "We must not let the present slip by us."

oOo

The end of April came. Remus never returned with pictures of the baby after all. It seemed as though Bill was alert every day for the moment Ron would disappear again. The older brother was surprised, then, when Harry asked to speak to him and Fleur.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were gathered in the sitting room. Dean and Luna were on the beach, Luna testing the new wand Mr. Ollivander had sent. The sitting room, indeed all of Shell Cottage, was a bit worse for wear for having housed so many for over a month. They had stopped putting the furniture back into position in the morning. The coffee table was crammed in the corner, piled with various bits of clothes and toiletries. The couch was pushed against the window, blankets and pillows folded at the end, the boys took turns sleeping on it. The chairs pushed to the side to leave plenty of room for two bodies to stretch out on the floor.

"We wanted you to know that we would be leaving in the morning," Harry said.

Fleur looked ready to protest, but Bill squeezed her hand.

"Do you have everything you need?" he asked.

"Lost our tent actually," Ron said.

The three of them were standing by the hearth, Hermione in the center. All of them, but especially Harry, relaxed when Bill didn't try to stop them. They had been expecting a fight, Bill was sure, just like Mum had tried to stop them from leaving back in August.

"I have one I can lend you," Bill said. "It's not as nice or big as the one we had for the Quidditch World Cup, I'm afraid."

"That's alright," Harry said. "We'll manage."

"I reckon that means you won't be returning," Bill said.

"No." Harry shook his head, but didn't elaborate.

"At least allow me to make you breakfast," Fleur offered, though she was frowning. "It is zee least I can do."

"No!" Harry and Ron exclaimed, Ron turning red under Fleur's astonished eyes.

"Er, please don't bother," Harry fumbled at the same time as Ron muttered, "Don't get up on our account."

Hermione looked at each boy with narrowed eyes and shook her head. "Please don't go to all that trouble, Fleur. In fact, as nice as your offer is, we must insist that you don't come to see us off. It's important."

Bill and Fleur exchanged looks. Well, Bill had told himself that he wouldn't interfere with their plans, and now was the time to prove it. Curiosity burned alongside fear, but he resisted the urge to press them for details. Instead, he offered his hand.

"Then I reckon we should say our goodbyes now," Bill said to Harry.

The other man hesitated just a moment, as if expecting some sort of trap, but finally grasped the outstretched hand. There was a round of farewells and handshaking and hugs, until Bill was faced with Ron. They were eye to eye. It never failed to astonish Bill to see how his baby brother had changed. It filled him with pride to be related to someone who could own his faults and not be defeated by them. When Ron offered his hand, Bill took it and pulled Ron against him, wrapping his other arm around his brother's shoulders.

"You'd better survive this mad plan of yours," Bill said into his ear. "And keep Harry and Hermione alive, too. I have faith in you."

Ron clutched Bill's shoulder. "Yeah, Mum would be right pissed if you let me run off and get killed."

"If you need anything, come to me." Bill pulled away, staring Ron in the face. "Our home will always be open to you."

"Cheers," Ron muttered, wiping his nose on the back of his hand. "About the tent, we-we should get it now, yeah?"

"Yeah."

Ron grabbed Hermione by the elbow, thrusting her between him and Bill as they walked to the shed. It was a mere moment to summon the tent, and even less for Hermione to stow it in her beaded bag. Then the two were striding back to Shell Cottage, leaving Bill standing in his garden, wondering what tomorrow would bring.

Notes:

*Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by JK Rowling, Chapter 25 Shell Cottage, page 513

*Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by JK Rowling, Chapter 25 Shell Cottage, page 513

*Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by JK Rowling, Chapter 25 Shell Cottage, page 515

*Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by JK Rowling, Chapter 25 Shell Cottage, page 515

*Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by JK Rowling, Chapter 25 Shell Cottage, page 516

Chapter 51

Notes:

I may not have made this clear in my note before the last chapter, but I will be posting a new chapter EVERY day this week.

I can't believe we are at this point already. I'm not going to do a lot of these notes over the next chapters, so here's a little something you should know... I almost always listen to music while writing. My soundtracks for these final chapters were Hamilton and Les Miserables - during certain scenes I listened to It's Quiet Uptown on repeat. If you want the full experience, all this music can be found on YouTube. Lastly, have your hankies at the ready, you all know what's coming.

The Ministry of Magic was in an uproar. The day began normally enough. Percy reported to work early, sorted files, exchanged pleasantries, drank tea. The Minister arrived at his regular time, flanked on either side by Death Eaters. Mid-morning, Yaxley appeared to deliver his daily report—and shoot Percy dirty looks as he walked by. It was about that time the whispers began. It was just a rustling at first, indistinct murmurs. Yaxley and his goons tried to stamp them out, but soon it was a full-scale gale that no one could stop.

Harry Potter broke into Gringotts Wizarding Bank and escaped—on a dragon!

"What do you suppose Harry Potter was looking for?" one man speculated.

Percy was in the washroom, listening as a few colleagues spoke openly about Harry Potter. Unless it was accompanied by the words "Undesirable No. 1," the name was forbidden within the halls of the Ministry. Yet this man said Harry's name with glee.

"Does it matter?" said another. "He's got that lot in a tizzy, that's all I care."

Percy grinned and dried his hands. For the first time in months, hope swirled in the stale air of the Ministry. It stirred in Percy's veins. A storm was coming.

oOo

They were a quartet at Shell Cottage now. Just Fleur and Bill, Luna and Dean. The four of them had hovered over the wireless since word came of Harry, Hermione, and Ron's mad escape from Gringotts. The men yelled and pumped their fists in the air when they heard. But that was hours ago, and now it was nearing ten o'clock. Night had gathered again outside the windows, but no more word came about Harry Potter.

Bill turned the knob on the wireless, tapping it with his wand. "Benjy Fenwick…Marlene McKinnon…Hogwarts…."

Fleur placed her hand on top of her husband's. "Stop. I zink zere will be no more news tonight."

With a growl of frustration, Bill dropped his hand. They were all hoping for some call to action. The news of Gringotts was so exhilarating, they were sure that it signified the beginning of something. But no call came. Not today. Fleur was disappointed, but she knew that Bill was also worried. He needed to know that Ron and his friends were alive, if not safe.

"Tomorrow," Fleur murmured. She ran her fingers through Bill's hair, and he glanced up at her with a small smile. Turning to her remaining guests, Fleur said, "Dean, I will change the sheets and tonight you will sleep in a proper bed."

"Oh!" Luna gasped. She stood, stuffing her hand in her pocket.

Dean did the same, pulling out a Galleon and examining it closely, then letting out a loud whoop.

"What?" Bill demanded, standing.

"It's Harry, Ron, and Hermione," said Luna in her tinkling voice.

Dean held up his coin with a wide grin. "They're at Hogwarts!"

oOo

"Harry Potter is at Hogwarts. We are leaving for the school within the hour. Please come."

For a moment, Audrey stared at Fleur's elegant script scrawled across the enchanted notebook, then at Percy who also had notebook in hand. Little did they know but this was the news they had been waiting for, and yet it was stunning. Hogwarts? Audrey's stomach was filled with sick worry. She didn't know Harry Potter. She couldn't begin to guess what strategy he was playing at—but a school full of children? There were hundreds of innocent lives contained within the walls of that castle.

"This is it," Percy said. He was grinning, energy coiled through his body. "Don't you think?"

Audrey nodded, though she couldn't quite find the words.

With a yell, Percy scooped her up and kissed her. It was hard and sloppy, but somehow a bit of his excitement slipped into Audrey. Tonight could mean an end to the war. An end to the fear that had ruled their lives for so long. Suddenly, the fact that Harry Potter was at Hogwarts seemed small compared to the prospect of ending it all. Audrey grasped Percy's face between her hands, slowing the kiss into something worth savoring.

"I have to go to the Ministry," Percy said, his voice breathy. He set Audrey down and adjusted his glasses.

"What? Why?"

"If Umbridge knows about Harry, she might try to destroy all the evidence against her. Same for Thickness, I would imagine."

"Let them! There are plenty of eyewitnesses who can testify against them."

Percy shook his head. "If…. When we win, there will be trials for war criminals. No evidence is stronger than a paper trail. There must be a clear-cut case against that vile woman. History needs to know what she did to the Muggle-borns."

"Then-then I'll go with you."

Audrey didn't like the idea of Percy sneaking into the Ministry of Magic on the eve of battle. It wasn't so many weeks ago that she almost lost him…she could lose him still. As unlikely as it seemed, Percy possessed a reckless kind of bravery, but not she. The most Audrey could hope for was bravado, but that didn't erase the fact that in the end Percy could end up dead. The thought made her stomach cramp, but she'd be damned if she lost him to that cow, Umbridge.

"No," Percy said and shook his head. "You need to go for your brother-in-law. I suspect we'll need Healer Pucey's services before this night is over."

He was right, dammit. When Bill placed the Fidelius Charm on Pucey Manor, Lance had given Audrey the address and told her to come for him when the time was right. It would seem that time had come. She nodded at Percy's suggestion.

Percy pushed her hair behind her ear. "Audrey, if you don't want to fight…."

His words trailed off, but Audrey understood. Percy was giving her a way out if she needed one, but she didn't. Somehow, she was going to force herself to go to Hogwarts, even though the thought of another battle terrified her. Even more than the fighting, Audrey was afraid of what she could lose. Namely, the man standing in front of her. This wonderful, flawed, stubborn man who had slipped past all of her barriers, and into her heart. He had only begun teaching her how to be loved, how to be open, and now he was off to Hogwarts to fight a hoard of Death Eaters. Percy could die. Audrey could lose him, she could lose the love she had been so afraid to accept. It was worth it. The joy of loving Percy, and being loved by him, was worth the pain that would come if she lost him.

"I'll be there," she said, balling her fists in his shirtfront. "I'll meet you there."

oOo

The public toilet was deserted. Percy hoped this was a good sign. Still, he Disillusioned himself before flushing into the Ministry. There would be no way to hide the whoosh of green flames once he landed in the Floo, being invisible was the best cover Percy could hope for. With any luck, the Atrium would be empty. Gripping his wand tightly, Percy pressed the lever on the toilet, then he was pulled into a whirling suction that deposited him inside the Ministry of Magic.

Rolling out of the Floo, Percy skirted across the walls before the green flames receded. His heart drummed loudly between his ears, his eyes darting around the room. Only three lamps were lit around the Atrium, casting enough light to see that the room was deserted. Taking a deep breath, Percy plotted his way through the Ministry's corridors. How much time would he have? Probably not much. Ideally, he would secure the Minister's office, the DMLE, and Dolores Umbridge's office, but Percy doubted there would be time for that. He wanted to fight. He wanted to go to Hogwarts and make a stand, but he could sacrifice that if necessary. Preserving this evidence was just as important. No, what Percy feared was that one of Thickness' flunkies, or Umbridge herself, would show up to begin destroying the files. With that in mind, Percy made a beeline for the Muggle-Born Registration Commission.

Alert to every noise, Percy met no one as he crept down hallways and hurried through stairwells. Finally, he stopped outside the door that would lead to Umbridge's offices. How many times had he made this same journey through the Ministry? Let tonight be the last. He slipped into the common area where the poor drones who turned out the Commission's propaganda normally sat. Like every other night, those desks were empty, but Umbridge's door was opened, light spilling out.

As Percy walked on silent feet up the row of desks, it felt as though his lungs had stilled. He stopped just steps away from the office to see Umbridge kneeling on the floor in her violently pink robes. She clutched a stack of files in her hands, the bow in her hair wildly askew. By the desk, Mafalda Hopkirk stood wringing her hands.

"We were following orders," Mafalda blathered.

"Do you think Potter will care?" Umbridge snarled. "Or that…that Hermione Granger?"

"They are just children!"

"Children who broke out of Gringotts on a dragon. They-they…in the Forbidden Forest…." Umbridge closed her eyes, shivering. "They hate me. They will use this to persecute me."

"But it was Pius!" Mafalda shrieked. "It was his orders. We were just following orders!"

Percy snapped his wand in the direction of Mafalda Hopkirk first, stunning her. She crumpled to the ground behind the desk with a soft thud. Dolores' head snapped up, wand clutched in her pudgy hand, her froggy face searching for the danger. Percy dispatched her with another flick of his wand.

Running forward, Percy conjured ropes and hogtied Umbridge. He was almost sorry to give Mafalda the same treatment. She was a high-strung woman who really was just following orders. Still, that was no excuse, and he couldn't allow her to free Umbridge or finish this work. Shoving both of their wands into his robes, Percy began locking up the desk and filing cabinet, layering charms and hexes of increasing complexity to keep out anyone who wanted to destroy their contents.

His job was nearly finished when he was hit with a spell that ended his Disillusionment charm. Thrusting his wand out in front of him, Percy saw Liam Williamson staring back at him. The man's own wand was pointing at Percy, Williamson's face taught and severe. For a moment, they stood there, the potential for violence crackling between them.

"Nice work, Weasley." Williamson lowered his wand, one corner of his mouth quirking up. "I'm not nearly as surprised as I should be to see you here."

"I wish I could say the same," Percy bit off. He hadn't lowered his wand yet.

"Shacklebolt sent me with orders to preserve any evidence. I've a small band of Aurors helping." Williamson sighed. "You never did trust me, did you? Fair enough. More than once I underestimated you, so I reckon we're even."

"You should never underestimate me."

"I can see that." Williamson eyed the desk almost wistfully. Finally, he looked at Percy, licking his lips. "Do you suppose…. Is my mum's file in that desk?"

Williamson was right. Percy had never fully trusted the Auror. Maybe that should have changed after the Battle of Ipswich. The man had risked his life and career to free those prisoners, same as Percy. Yet, Percy couldn't bring himself to. Or maybe it was that Percy couldn't bring himself to like the cocky bastard. Something inside of Percy softened in that moment when Williamson's guard was down. There was naked longing in the man's voice, not for power or lust, but for his mum. Percy understood that all too well.

"Probably the filing cabinet," Percy answered, finally lowering his wand. "Do you want me to undo the wards so you can look?"

Williamson stared at the tall, metal drawers for the space of five breaths, then he shook his head. "Tomorrow. When all of this is said and done." He cleared his throat. "Head to Hogwarts, Percy. I'm sure your family is already there, you won't want to miss that."

"What about you?"

"I'll finish up here, maybe lock these two up in the holding area. Then I'll see you on the battlefield, won't I?"

oOo

"Bloody hell! This ain't King's Cross!"

The taproom of the Hog's Head was as filthy as ever. Aberforth stood by the bar chomping on a pipe and griping to anyone who would listen. Dean and Luna had left Shell Cottage almost immediately after receiving the message on their coins, but it took Bill and Fleur longer. Whilst Fleur was busy preparing a cache of potions and bandages, Bill sent Patronuses to his parents, Kingsley, and Remus.

That wasn't the real reason they were late coming. Fleur had caught Bill in their bedroom. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him long and slow, as if they had all the time in the world. When she pulled away, she stared up at him with determination snapping in her eyes.

"Make love to me," she demanded.

They should report directly to the Hog's Head, it didn't matter. Harry Potter was at Hogwarts. One way or another, everything would change after this night. If these were Bill's final moments with his wife, then he damn well wanted to make them count. It was not a slow and elegant seduction. Bill backed Fleur into the wall, struggling out of his pants and trousers as she pushed her own from her hips. Kissing her neck and stroking her until she was wet, Bill was glad that Fleur was so tall when she curled one leg over his hip.

Finally, he pushed into her, listening to her ragged sigh. "I love you," he murmured against her lips.

"Je t'aime…. Je t'aime."

Merlin, Bill hadn't had such a rushed and messy shag since he left Hogwarts. They matched thrusts, one of Bill's hands gripping Fleur's arse, the other between them playing and pinching her clitoris until she came. That was when he let go, and afterwards there was no time to bask. One last searing kiss, and they pulled away. New energy coursed through them, and now they stood in a manky bar awaiting battle.

"Bill!"

He looked around to see his mum marching over to them, hands on her hips and Dad in her wake.

"Do you suppose she knows?" Fleur murmured into his ear.

Bill goosed her arse. "Hush, you."

"How could you let them do it?" Mum demanded. "Gringotts, and the dragon!"

"We could not stop zem," Fleur said.

"And I wouldn't if I could," Bill added, staring his mother down. "Whatever they did, it was to finish this, and isn't that what we want?"

"But—" Mum clutched both of her hands in front of herself, tears simmering in her eyes. "They're just children."

"No, Mum, they aren't."

Dad looked at Bill. There was an unreadable expression on the older Weasley's face.

"Look," Bill said, he took her hands in his. "We'll probably see Harry in there, you can't fuss over him. He…. I don't know how to explain it, Mum, but there are important things he has to do—"

"Like what?" Dad blurted out. "Did he tell you?"

Bill shook his head. "No, but regardless, it's a great burden. He's struggling to focus on what he must do, I don't think he could handle having Mum make a big fuss over him."

He stared beseechingly at his Mum. Over time, Bill had sussed this out about Harry. It's why he didn't ask about Ginny or the family, why he didn't ask to see them. Bill didn't envy Harry Potter his burdens. Finally, Mum's mouth flattened into a thin, resigned line.

"The twins brought Ginny to Hogwarts," she said. "When I get my hands on them…."

She turned on her heel and marched up the stairs to the rooms above.

"That's right!" bellowed Aberforth. "Invade my personal living space, go right on wit' ya!"

oOo

She had never seen such a strange room. Fleur stood in the mouth of the portrait, the last of the Weasleys to come through the passage. The room before her yawned wide with hammocks and bookcases, the Hogwarts House flags hanging from the rafters. Young people gathered around. Half seemed to be either conferring in earnest or collecting supplies whilst the other half appeared to be gossiping. Fleur recognized Cho Chang standing by a handsome dark-haired boy. In another corner was Oliver Wood with Alicia Spinnet and Angelina Johnson.

"Fleur?"

She looked down to see Bill offering his hand, she took it with a smile and glided down the steps. Already, Molly had cornered the twins, haranguing them loudly for bringing their baby sister to Hogwarts. The danger was implied. They all expected the night to end in battle. Neither Fred nor George could seem to get a word in to defend themselves, in fact they looked shame-faced. Ginny was not so contrite.

"Mum!" Ginny thundered. "I would be here with or without their help. Where else should I be?"

"Home!" Molly yelled back.

"I haven't been home in a month, have you?"

Molly's mouth puckered. "You should be with Auntie Muriel," she bit off in measured words.

"My family is here. Dumbledore's Army is here."

"You are underage—"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

Mother and daughter shared the same blazing eyes and fierce temper. The Weasley men shrunk back slightly, not inclined to interfere. This strange room roiled with emotion. So many, and Fleur could not name them for they twisted into a horrible tension. Fleur's eyes swept across the room, resting only a moment on faces she did not know, but were so young. There was a girl with blonde pigtails, her arms wrapped around herself and her chin firm. The animated face of a short, sandy haired boy as he spoke rapidly to Dean. The grim, stiff shouldered determination of a round-faced boy that marked him as a leader. Fleur closed her eyes, taking a deep breath though her nose.

When she opened her eyes again, it was to see another blonde girl standing in the portrait hole, broomstick clutched in her hand. The girl's eyes scanned the room. There was something familiar about the girl, but Fleur could not quite figure out how she knew her. Even when the girl's eyes landed on Fleur, recognition flaring, the French witch could not place her.

"Fleur Delacour?" The girl skipped down the steps and strode over to the family of redheads.

"Weasley," Fleur corrected absently.

The girl smiled. "I come with a message from your family."

Fleur blinked, then, "Katie Bell?"

The morning Katie Bell left for France—more than nine months ago—Fleur had only caught a glimpse of the refugee before she spun out of sight. She remembered a tearless girl in the arms of Oliver Wood, determined and sad. It was strange to think that this girl Fleur barely knew had lived in her childhood home all these months.

"They said they would come," Katie said. "After the fighting is over, they'll be here with Healing supplies…or to take you home."

Darkness passed over Katie's face. To take Fleur home. The fight was inevitable. Over the twisting emotions of the teenagers in this room, Fleur could feel the violence charging the air. It would explode soon, flinging them all into the fire. The outcome was not so certain. They would not speak of it, of course.

"Merci," Fleur murmured, pressing her hand against her chest to stop it from trembling.

"Katie!"

The girl whirled around, her ponytail flying out. "Oliver!"

Kingsley, Remus, and several others scampered out of the way as the pair rushed at each other. Even Molly and Ginny stopped arguing as they all witnessed Oliver Wood haul Katie Bell into the air and kiss her. The twins let loose with wolf whistles, and applause broke out in several corners of the room.

"Alright, alright," Arthur scolded. "Let's give them their privacy."

Bill nudged Fleur, grinning down at her, and she blushed.

"Where is Ron?" Arthur asked.

Molly looked around. "Where is Ron? And Harry and Hermione?"

"Don't know about Harry," George answered.

"But Ron and Hermione are in the loo," Fred finished.

Molly's brows furrowed, but she said nothing for Harry Potter walked into the room. Just that morning Harry had left Fleur's home. The day since had stretched with bursts of excitement and long periods boredom and anticipation. Yet less than two hours had passed since the call to arms came, an eternity. Harry looked much as he did the day before, but scruffier and bemused.

"Harry, what's happening?" Remus asked. He met Harry at the foot of the stairs.

"Voldemort's on his way…" Harry said.

Molly flinched, turning into Arthur.

"….they're barricading the school—Snape's run for it—What are you doing here? How did you know?"

"We sent messages to the rest of Dumbledore's Army," Fred explained. "You couldn't expect everyone to miss the fun, Harry, and the D.A. let the Order of the Phoenix know, and it all kind of snowballed."

Molly glowered at her son, then glanced at Harry.

"What's first, Harry?" called George. "What's going on?"

"They're evacuating the younger kids, and everyone's meeting in the Great Hall to get organized," Harry said. "We're fighting."*

The room erupted. The swirling emotions twisted into one rush of excitement. Fred and George pumped their fists in the air, Arthur and Bill spoke fervently to one another, but Molly stood stock still with her fists dangling at her sides. As others rushed from the room, Fleur edged nearer her mother-in-law. The older woman's face was blank of emotion, but Fleur knew that was a cover. She was not sure what she could do for Molly, but it did not matter. Molly turned her fear and fury on her daughter.

"They are evacuating the younger children," Molly said to Ginny. "You will go, too."

"Absolutely not!" Ginny spit back.

oOo

"Late, ain't ya'?"

Percy glanced at Aberforth. The Hog's Head was empty. Was he late? Had the fighting already started? Even now his family could be facing down Death Eaters. He wondered where Audrey was. In hindsight, he wished they hadn't separated. He knew she was frightened of what was to come this night, but he also knew she'd be here.

"Well, get on with it," growled the old barkeep. "Up the stairs and to yer left."

Leaving caution behind, Percy raced up the stairs, finding a portrait hanging open in the room on the left. A long, dark tunnel stretched before him. A marvel of magic and engineering, but where had such a thing come from? It didn't matter, did it. Percy shook superfluous thoughts from his mind and climbed in.

Sense told him to go slowly. He should conserve his energy. There could be potholes or bumps to trip him up. Percy could not heed his good sense. His heart was racing almost as fast as his mind. His family were somewhere in that castle, already doing battle? He thought of all the times he should have gone back but let pride stand in his way. It wasn't just that row with Dad. It was all the times they'd met within the halls of the Ministry. All the times Mum sought Percy out or owled his Christmas jumpers. It was the Christmas he went home. So what if the twins and Ginny flung vegetables at him? What did that matter?

All of Percy's regrets compounded inside his gut and his heart as he raced down that long tunnel. He could hear Bill urging him to reconcile. Why hadn't he listened to his big brother when he had the chance? Was he too late, as Aberforth had charged? Light appeared at the end of the tunnel. Percy sprinted the last yards to the tunnel's end, tripping and tumbling out of the hole in the wall.

Percy pulled himself up on the nearest chair, hardly noticing his surroundings. "Am I too late? Has it started? I only just found out, so I—I—"*

Percy stopped speaking as he gawped at the people before him. They were all standing there, staring at him, his family. Mum and Ginny, Bill and Fleur, Fred and George, even Harry, and Dad. There was perfect silence. All of Percy's words failed him as he feasted on those beloved faces.

Dimly, Percy was aware of Fleur's awkward attempt to cover the awkwardness. He wasn't too late after all. Maybe his family would reject him, but he'd come this far. There was no way he could let this moment pass him by. Grappling with the right words, the emotion swelled in Percy's chest and throat.

"I was a fool!" Percy roared. Eloquence was beyond him. The best he could do was lay bare his many sins. "I was an idiot, I was a pompous prat, I was a—a—"

"Ministry-loving, family disowning, power-hungry moron," said Fred.

Percy swallowed.*

Leave it to Fred to find just the right words. Percy glanced at Bill, he could see a defense forming on his brother's lips, but he couldn't allow it. Maybe later there would be time to win back some of his family's respect, but now was the time for Percy to atone. He must assume the guilt, and he was very guilty of all of Fred's claims.

"Yes, I was!"

"Well, you can't say fairer than that," said Fred, holding out his hand to Percy.*

For a moment, all Percy could do was stare at Fred's hand. That was it? Gratitude flowed through his body, weakening his knees. Percy knew in that moment that his brothers welcomed him back. The yoke of guilt and self-hatred slid off, rendering him speechless in the face of Fred's generosity. Before he could clasp hands with his brother, Mum pushed Fred out of the way and embraced Percy. He stood there, stiff and still as she blubbered into his shoulder and strangled his neck. Then he patted her back, looking at his Dad.

"I'm sorry, Dad," Percy said.*

He wanted better words, but again they failed him. What more could he say than that really? He was sorry. Maybe that was enough, for Dad's eyes were suspiciously shiny, then he was hugging Percy, too. He closed his eyes, feeling hot tears on his cheeks.

"What made you see sense, Perce?" inquired George.*

Disentangling himself from his parents, Percy avoided looking at Bill or Fleur. Somehow, he didn't think this was the right moment to reveal that he'd been in contact with his eldest brother for the better part of a year. Percy could just imagine Mum laying into Bill about not bringing Percy home sooner. Thinking quickly, he muttered something about traitors to the Ministry being imprisoned and Aberforth tipping him off ten minutes ago. It was true, if not the whole truth.

"Well, we do look to our prefects to take a lead at times such as these," said George in a good imitation of Percy's most pompous manner. "Now let's get upstairs and fight, or all the good Death Eaters'll be taken."*

Just like that, it felt like old times again, except that Percy didn't resent George's joke at his expense. Fred and George bound up a set of stairs, Bill and Fleur following. Feeling a bit cheeky, Percy extended his hand to Fleur.

"So, you're my sister-in-law now?"*

Her lips pursed, her eyes narrowing, but Fleur played along and shook Percy's hand.

Percy followed his brothers into the castle.

Notes:

*Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by JK Rowling, Chapter 30 The Sacking of Severus Snape, pages 603-604

*Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by JK Rowling, Chapter 30 The Sacking of Severus Snape, page 605

*Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by JK Rowling, Chapter 30 The Sacking of Severus Snape, pages 605-606

* Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by JK Rowling, Chapter 30 The Sacking of Severus Snape, page 606

Chapter 52

The Weasley brothers and Fleur came to a halt just outside of the Great Hall as students in traveling cloaks and dressing gowns filed in. They were unusually quiet to Bill's mind. Maybe it was the late hour, but he suspected it was more. There was a practiced silence amongst those tight mouths and taut shoulders. Bill had caught snippets of stories in the Room of Requirement. He heard tales of torture and abuse. Focusing on a particularly tiny girl with long plaits and an eagle on the crest of her cape, anger roiled in Bill's gut. How could anybody damage such innocence? But Bill knew it wasn't just this little girl, who was a stranger to him. Ginny had lived in this very castle for damn near a year. What had those bastards done to her? What was she hiding? Bill welcomed the violence that was coming.

"Where's Ron?" Percy asked.

He was standing between the twins like a reed between two squat mushrooms. Fred and George were short, for Weasleys. Fred and George had bounced insults at Percy's head for the entire trek through the corridors, Percy smiling sheepishly. For a moment, Bill stowed away the anger that would sustain him through the coming fight. Instead, he allowed himself to be glad that his family was reunited. Maybe Charlie wasn't here yet—hopefully he would be soon—and Ron was traipsing through the castle doing Merlin knew what, as usual, but the family was reunited in spirit at last. It was what he'd worked so long for, and Percy had certainly taken his sweet time. That didn't steal away from the satisfaction, the wholeness Bill felt at watching his little brothers banter.

"Ickle Ronniekins went to the loo," George said.

"At a time like this?" Percy asked.

"With Hermione," added Fred, and the twins chortled.

Percy kept a straight face. "I always knew his proclivity for lavatories would lead him astray."

Bill snickered at the twin looks of bemusement that Fred and George wore.

"C'mon, boys," Bill said, taking Fleur's hand and stepping past his brothers. "You know how Professor McGonagall hates stragglers."

Inside the Great Hall, the four House tables were crowded with students. Brambles of hushed voices tangled around the Hall as speculation grew. On the dais, McGonagall stood behind the podium, eyeing the crowd through her square spectacles. Behind her gathered the rest of the professors, including the centaur—his presence inside the castle never ceased to be odd to Bill. The Order of the Phoenix was also there. As they neared, Kingsley waved Bill over. Bill squeezed Fleur's hand before reporting.

"Where are Arthur and Remus?" Kingsley asked.

"They should be following shortly," Bill answered.

"I need you to do some reconnaissance. Voldemort's forces are already amassing outside, I want to know what we're up against."

Bill motioned at the Gryffindor table where Oliver sat. "Wood and the others have broomsticks—"

"No, I want this low key. Do you know Longbottom?"

Bill nodded, finding the tall young man sitting with the other Gryffindors.

"Get with him, find out which of the D.A. kids are best suited for this mission—I suspect they have a lot of experience scurrying around these grounds after dark. Be back by midnight, and don't get caught."

With a nod, Bill turned from Kingsley to find his wife's eyes on him. She stood beside the Gryffindor table where his brothers were wedged between friends. Fleur's face was a careful mask, her hands fisted at her sides. There was no time, Bill knew that—Voldemort could begin his assault on Hogwarts at any moment—but still he lingered a moment as he stared at Fleur. He hated leaving her. Naively, Bill had assumed they would fight side-by-side.

"Kingsley has given me a job, love," Bill murmured, moving to her side.

Fleur touched his face with trembling fingers. "Be safe. I will see you soon."

Her courage never ceased to amaze him. Bill kissed Fleur, fast and hard, then forced himself to walk down the line. Locking Fleur's image away in his heart, Bill concentrated on the battered face of Neville Longbottom and the bruised boy sitting next to him. Professors had done that to those boys. Bill let his anger boil up.

"Longbottom," Bill said, stopping before the younger man. "I need two men for reconnaissance, I was told to talk to you."

For a moment, Longbottom's eyebrows sprang wide across his face, making him look young, but quickly the surprise was wiped away. Straightening his shoulders, he spoke to the boy beside him, his voice ringing with authority, "Seamus, go with Bill Weasley."

The other boy had a slight build that was wrapped with energy. "Aye, and I'll grab Goldstein, he's a surprisingly sneaky bastard."

"I'll meet you on the front steps," Bill said.

Walking out of the Great Hall, Bill glanced at the staircase and saw Remus, his parents, and Harry rushing to the Great Hall. Ginny wasn't with them. Good. Maybe they convinced her to go home, but Bill doubted it. She'd be somewhere nearby, looking for an opportunity to join the fray. He didn't like the idea of his baby sister fighting in the battle to come, but it wouldn't be her first. Forcing himself out the doors onto the front steps, Bill was enveloped by the cloudy night, a cool breeze ruffling his hair.

Fact was, he couldn't protect Ginny or any of the rest. It was war, they all had their parts to play, the rest was left to fate. The most Bill could do was pray that fate be kind, and so he did. He even found a measure of comfort in it, in knowing that it was out of his hands. Let us survive the night.

Two young men joined Bill on the front steps. Seamus Finnegan was short, with something fierce about him. Anthony Goldstein, on the other hand, was tall and wore a sweater vest. Where Finnegan wore his injuries like badges of honor, Goldstein sported no visible scars or bruises. Bill did not delude himself—the lack of evidence did not mean that Goldstein was injury free.

"Alright," Bill said. "We need an accounting of enemy combatants, and time is of the essence. Finnegan, take the main entrance to Hogsmeade. Goldstein, I want you to take the Black Lake and path from the train station. I'll take the Forbidden Forest. Don't be seen, and don't get caught. I'll meet you back here in—"

But Bill's last instruction was cut off by a high, clear voice. The three men stood frozen on the steps as the voice echoed around them like sleet from the sky, and equally as cold. It cut through their skin and chilled their blood.

"I know that you are preparing to fight."*

Screams could be heard from inside the Great Hall. Every cell in Bill's body wanted to run back inside, protect those innocent children. He could see the same impulse in Finnegan and Goldstein, but none of them moved. There was a job to do, and Bill was glad to see the men standing beside him were as disciplined in seeing it through. Again, he wondered what they had endured to earn that discipline.

"Your efforts are futile. You cannot fight me. I do not want to kill you. I have great respect for the teachers of Hogwarts. I do not want to spill magical blood."*

The night pressed into total silence. There was no scurry of small animals or hum of insects. Even the breeze stilled, horrified at that voice.

"Give me Harry Potter," said Voldemort's voice, "and none shall be harmed. Give me Harry Potter, and I shall leave the school untouched. Give me Harry Potter, and you shall be rewarded.*

"You have until midnight."*

For a moment, the three men stood on the front steps, the words—Voldemort's words sinking—into their brains. Still, the grounds all around the castle remained silent, as if holding its breath. Even the breath in Bill's lungs refused to leave of its own accord.

"And feck ya'!" Finnegan snarled.

Goldstein held up a two-fingered salute to the world at large.

Bill chuckled. "You heard the man, midnight. I expect to meet the two of you on these steps in fifteen minutes."

oOo

Percy's bones were wrapped in ice as the silence of the Great Hall stretched thin. On either side of him were Fred and George with their heads bowed, quiet. Looking around, Percy saw Harry Potter against the far wall. There was little in this rough-hewn young man to resemble the boy who spent his summers at the Burrow. There was the same untidy black hair, perhaps even more untidy than usual, and the same round glasses, but he was whittled down to sinew and leather.

"But he's there! Potter's there! Someone grab him!"*

A snub nosed, black haired Slytherin girl stood with her finger pointed at Harry.

Fred looked up.

"Like hell we will," George growled.

Percy's gut echoed his brother's sentiment. Nobody was giving up Harry Potter. They'd come too far, too much was at stake. As one, the Gryffindor table stood. Energy crackled through the Great Hall as one by one, each table stood, facing down Slytherin House.

"Thank you, Miss Parkinson," said Professor McGonagall in a clipped voice. "You will leave the Hall first with Mr. Filch. If the rest of your House will follow."*

Slytherin packed together as they fled, refusing to look behind them. Prefects from each of the remaining Houses snapped to work, organizing the younger students and those who did not wish to fight. At the end of the Gryffindor table, Parvati Patil was arguing with Longbottom, but nobody seemed to be taking charge of the children. It occurred to Percy that Ron and Hermione should have been the seventh year prefects, but they were missing. In fact, they'd been gone for the entire school year. Had nobody replaced them?

Fred nudged Percy in the side, "Looks like they need your expertise, Big Head Boy."

"Sure, being a prat ought to come in handy every now and then," George chimed in.

"I prefer to call it 'highly developed organizational skills,'" Percy replied, and stood. "If you gentlemen will excuse me."

Most of the Ravenclaws were already gone. At the dais, McGonagall relinquished her place to Kingsley Shacklebolt. Percy pushed his way through Order members and Hufflepuffs preparing to depart. From the corner of his eye, Percy spotted Oliver. He was holding his younger brother, Alex, listening intently to whatever their cousin, Ernie Macmillan, was saying. Finally, Oliver clapped Ernie on the shoulder, and stood aside as the Hufflepuff prefect led Alex and his yearmates away.

"Son."

Percy pulled his eyes away from Oliver to stare into the face of his father. "Dad?"

"I have to report for duty," Dad said, and pushed his glasses up. "I-I just wanted to say…I'm sorry."

Percy blinked. He couldn't imagine what his father was apologizing for.

"I don't understand."

"I should have known better," Dad said. "That night you left, I mean. I should have known better than to dress you down in front of the whole family—not if I wanted you to hear me."

Percy shook his head. "Dad, there's nothing for you to apologize for. I was wrong…I was—"

"Stubborn? Prideful? Yes. I'm afraid you inherited those traits from me."

"I would have guessed Mum."

Dad laughed, then he hugged Percy. As often as Percy wished for the comfort of his mother's arms, this felt like forgiveness. He had not realized it, but until that moment Percy still feared he would not be welcomed home. Tentatively, he wrapped his arms around his dad and breathed in the familiar scent of plain soap and Floo powder.

"I should have come to get you," Dad whispered. "I was the father, I should have brought you home."

Percy shook his head. "I wasn't ready then, but I am now. I want to come home, Dad, if you want me."

"Of course, son, of course." He thumped Percy on the back twice, making the younger man wince. Pulling away, Dad's brow wrinkled with concern. "Alright, son?"

Percy shook his head, adjusting his shoulders. The burns were still tender. As much as Percy appreciated the sentiment behind that thumping display of affection, he would need to refrain from that kind of enthusiasm in the future. Still, he smiled for Dad.

"It's nothing."

Dad gave him one more searching look, then cleared his throat. "I have to report for duty."

"Yes, yes. Me, too." Percy sniffed.

"Be safe, son."

oOo

The sucking sensation of Disapparation ended, and Audrey found herself standing in the Hog's Head, flanked on either side by Lance and Adrian Pucey. The pub was crowded with children, many of them in their bedclothes. She scanned the room and found no gangly gingers standing a head taller than the rest, but she hadn't really expected to find Percy here. He was probably in the castle already.

"How do we get to Hogwarts from here?" Lance asked. He was dressed in his official robes from St. Mungo's, his Healer's bag at his side. Audrey had awoken the whole household when she appeared at Pucey Manor, but Lance took his time to dress before leaving. He wanted to make sure that no one mistook his role as Healer.

"Are you here for the battle?" asked a young boy. He had straw colored hair and was so small he could have been a third year, but there was an air about him that marked him as older. Not surprisingly, he wore a Gryffindor t-shirt under his dressing gown.

"Has it begun?" Audrey asked breathlessly.

"Midnight."

Audrey checked her watch, they had less than fifteen minutes to get to the castle. She looked towards the window, but it was dark and dirty, betraying no clues as to what the outside world held. Midnight? Did that mean Death Eaters surrounded the castle even now?

"Which side do you fight on?" the boy asked.

"I'm a Healer," Lance responded with the easy arrogance of a wealthy man. "I fight on the side of the injured."

"Shut it," Adrian said, and shook his head. "Healer Pomp and Ceremony here might be on the side of the injured, but we're with Harry Potter. How do we get to the castle?"

"Up the stairs and to the left, you'll find a tunnel that leads to Hogwarts. Better hurry."

"Cheers," Adrian said, and grabbed Audrey's sleeve, tugging her into motion. The entire room was crammed with students, most of them small and young like that Gryffindor boy. In the corner, she recognized Horace Slughorn's mutton chop whiskers, he was a frequent dinner guest of her mother's. He seemed to be the only adult in the room. Around him milled students in the green and silver of Slytherin. With a sneer, Audrey noted they didn't look nearly as young and innocent as the others.

"Wait," Adrian muttered. He marched over to the corner where his House congregated, getting in the face of a bored, black boy in an expensive silk dressing gown. "Are you all here, Zabini? Not one of you stayed to fight?"

"We were asked to leave," Zabini replied in slippery tones.

"What of you, Theo?" Adrian asked of a boy who was thin and extremely tall.

"My father…" Theo began, but Adrian cut across him.

"Is an abusive prick. You hate him and what he stands for. What about you, Professor? You've sat at my parents' dinner table, you loathe Dark Magic. You are a fair man."

Slughorn's whiskers trembled a bit. "S-someone must protect these children."

The man sat, crammed in a corner.

"Have the Puceys finally shown their true colors?" sneered a girl, she flipped her brown hair off her shoulder. Audrey recognized the girl, she was Tracy Davis. Audrey used to tutor her in Charms. "Blood traitors?"

Adrian scowled, his dark eyes sweeping from face to face. "Damn right. I'm done playing your games. If I see any of you on the battlefield fighting for the Dark Lord," he drawled the name mockingly, then stared into the face of Zabini. "I'll kill you."

Slughorn flinched, and so did Audrey. Many of the Slytherins continued to look bored, but a few turned away. Adrian didn't waste time on any of them, nor did he say a thing to his brother or Audrey as he strode past and up the stairs. Lance followed in his wake, and Audrey was last.

oOo

Midnight. The castle reverberated with the first assault.

"How long do you zink zee shields will hold?" Fleur asked.

"Not long enough," George answered.

The two of them stood to one side of a secret passage hidden by a hideous tapestry. On the other side was Mandy Brocklehurst, a girl with a blunt fringe and striped pajamas. George said they were on the second floor below Gryffindor Tower, but they could be on the moon for all Fleur knew. Hogwarts had seemed an illogical labyrinth during the Tri-Wizard Tournament, but now it seemed deadly.

Flashes of light flickered outside the window at the end of the corridor. Again the castle shook, and screams erupted from all corners. Somewhere, Bill was out there, but Fleur did not know where. He never returned from his mission before she was given her own. Even as she followed George from the Great Hall, Fleur had watched for even a glimpse of her tall husband. She told herself that she would know if Bill was hurt, that she would know it in her very soul.

A scrabbling sound came from the depths of the passageway. George held a finger to his lips, signaling for quiet, and they raised their wands. A hooded figure emerged. George blasted it. A second man emerged, pointing his wand at George's back, Fleur reacted. The man flew backwards, crashing into a figure behind him and toppling to the floor. Mandy cast Full Body Binds on each of them as George finished off his Death Eater.

oOo

"Ah, Miss Sprayberry, good to see you," squeaked Flitwick. He scurried down the hall with a band of students. "Please, do join us!"

"Professor," yelled Lance. "Where can I find Madam Pomfrey?"

"Great Hall, my boy."

The Pucey brothers dodged down the hall, Adrian clearing the way for his brother whilst Audrey hurried after Flitwick. They were doubling back the way Audrey had come, to the Room of Requirement. A pink-haired woman was in the corridor now, shooting curses through the broken panes of a window. With a start, Audrey realized that she was the woman, Tonks, who had helped Percy the night he was burned. Tonks had been pregnant at the time, but she'd obviously had the baby. How old could the infant be?

A loud explosion rocked the castle. Screams echoed around the corridor. Audrey was thrown to the floor, her hands and elbows cracking against the stone. Pushing to all fours, she came face-to-face with a freckle-faced girl with long ginger hair. Recognition flooded Audrey's senses. The girl's features had grown finer, her hair longer, but she was unmistakably the same girl from Percy's Egypt picture.

"Have you seen Percy?" Audrey blurted.

Ginny looked Audrey over with narrowed eyes. "Not recently."

"Come, Miss Sprayberry, we must defend our tower," Flitwick squeaked.

Audrey scrambled to her feet, staring after Percy's little sister who was now shooting jinxes out the window with Tonks. Scurrying after the professor, Audrey soon found herself on top of Ravenclaw Tower. From here, the grounds of Hogwarts spread out in horrifying detail. Giants loomed at the gates, pounding away at the last of the magical defenses. Already, Death Eaters were spread across the lawns, dueling with the defenders of Hogwarts. A squadron on broomsticks zoomed past the tower and Audrey recognized Oliver. He led them in formation around a giant that turned its club from the castle defenses to the flyers.

Reaching into her bag, Audrey withdrew a fork. This was the last of Fleur's good silver, and it was time that it was put to good use, but she was going to need help. She could turn it into a bomb, but she needed help launching it at the giants.

Looking at a boy who seemed vaguely familiar, Audrey said, "Do you suppose you can give me a hand?"

oOo

BOOM!

Bill rolled for cover, his opponent thrown to the ground. A second explosion shook the grounds, but this time it was courtesy of the Hogwarts' side. Again, flames and debris burst above the head of a giant who grabbed his eye and howled with pain. Whoever was responsible for those bombs needed to keep up the good work.

A spell hit the dirt inches from Bill's face, grass and mud flying everywhere. Shooting a curse blindly, Bill scrambled to his feet. Pointing his wand, Bill had no time to cast before his adversary flew backwards to slam into the side of the castle.

"Head in the game, Weasley!"

Nymphadora Tonks ran full speed across the grounds.

"Shouldn't you be at home?" Bill shouted.

"I've unfinished business to attend to."

oOo

"They've breached the Great Hall!"

The voice echoed off the stone walls as a pigtailed girl sprinted by. Mandy ran to the window, it exploded. Time slowed. Shards of glass flew through the air, burying themselves in Mandy's flesh. The girl fell to the floor, screaming and bloody. Hideously furry, black legs poked through the opening, Mandy crawled on bloodied arms away from the beast. George blasted the legs away.

"Sh. Sh," Fleur hushed as she knelt by Mandy Brocklehurst and pulled the girl's head into her lap. "I will make it all better."

Smoothing her hand over the girl's thick fringe until she quieted, Fleur used her wand to extract each shard of glass. Blood, sticky and red, seeped from the wounds, and Mandy whimpered. It was a simple healing spell to mend the shredded skin. Of all the many tasks set before Fleur in these long months, this one was nothing. The gashes mended, no evidence remained of the trauma. It was a moment's work, and then Mandy was running through the halls, ready to court new dangers.

"Fleur, patron saint of bloody messes," George muttered, and grabbed his sister-in-law's hand. "C'mon, let's see what trouble we can find."

They raced down the staircase together. Around them, the castle shook like a child racked with tears. From floors below, deadly lights flashed in a sickening kaleidoscope. Everywhere there was noise. Screams and yells. Names bellowed. Curses shouted. Shrieks of pain. And under all this destruction ran a need that was the most basic. Survive. Like ancient man, these witches and wizards had only this one emotion. Even fear was eclipsed by the raw need to fight for life. Fleur felt it against her skin like scabs pulled away from wounds.

"Watch it!" George yelled.

The staircase separated, the two sides rotated away from one another. Blasted Hogwarts! George was on the other side, yelling at her, but Fleur was facing another wizard. Smirking at her from the floor above was the cretin who attacked her in Diagon Alley all those months ago. Scabior. Fleur pointed her wand.

"Look 'oo it is," Scabior said, sauntering down two steps. "The pretty pussy."

Dropping her arm to her side, Fleur stared at the man. Irritation itched her spleen. All around them, people were fighting, dying. She could hear their screams, she could feel their agony. And this man, bah, this slug wanted to coo about her vagina. Men were incredibly stupid, Fleur decided, this one especially. She flicked her wand at the step where he stood, and a hole appeared. There was no time for Scabior to scream before he fell through to the floor below.

Fleur scowled. She hoped he broke both his legs.

Dashing down the steps once more, Fleur saw George on the second half of the staircase, dueling two Death Eaters. That section of stairs kept rotating, settling into place for mere seconds, before switching away again. Fleur looked from the staircase to George, her wand wavering in the air. A jet of green light flew at George, but he dodged out of the way. The curse struck the stone step, rock and dust exploded into the air.

"George!" Fleur screamed.

She aimed her wand, but the duelers weaved and dodged. One moment she could see George's face, the next the staircase moved away. She might hit him. Edging to the end of the stairs, Fleur took aim again, but she could not take the risk of hurting George.

Another green jet and George narrowly escaped. Fear caught in Fleur's throat. Pointing her wand at the moving stairs instead, she muttered spell after spell trying to immobilize it, but the ancient magic resisted. There was only one thing she could do.

Waiting until the staircase came around again, she leapt. Landing painfully, her ankles and knees jarred, a blasting jinx burst from the end of her wand. One Death Eater screamed, hurled through the air and over the balustrade. The other turned to watch his comrade, and George stunned him.

Then fell to his knees.

"Are you hurt?" Fleur rushed to her brother-in-law's side.

He stretched out one hand, the other clutched to his chest.

"George!" Fleur took his hand and knelt beside him. "Where are you hurt? Show me."

"Something—" George gasped and looked up. His mouth was twisted, tears glistening in his eyes. "We have to find Fred."

"Fred?"

George pushed to his feet. "Something's…something's not right. We have to find Fred."

The section of stairs they stood on was still spinning. George tromped down to the edge that led to the lower portion, kicking the Death Eater as he went by. For a moment, Fleur stared after her brother-in-law, unmoving. His words frightened her. She could feel his determination, his need to get to his twin, burning inside of him. She did not ask what propelled him, she did not want the answer.

"We'll have to jump," George said, looking back at her.

Fleur nodded and moved to his side.

George grabbed her hand. "On three!"

oOo

"Need a hand?"

From the corner of Percy's eye, he saw Fred. For the second time that night, Percy was grateful to see this brother. Red light zipped between the Weasleys, Fred laughing when it stuck the stone wall behind them. Two Death Eaters in hoods and masks bore down on the brothers, forcing them back through the hallways of Hogwarts. Percy didn't know where Fred had come from, just that he had been outmatched. Some of Fred's recklessness caught in Percy's chest. He grinned and flung a tickling jinx at the man before him.

"Have you ever had so much fun?" Fred yelled.

"I can think of better uses of my time, yes."

"Well, it's no moldering, old library, I reckon."

Percy shook his head. "Shut it, Fred!"

They exchanged curses with the Death Eaters. Fred kept cracking jokes, which seemed to fluster their opponents, but dammit, Percy was smiling. They were shoulder to shoulder, he and Fred, wands high. The danger was all around them, but all Percy could feel was camaraderie. It planted itself deep in his chest, pushing out years of resentment and exasperation. Glancing at his little brother, Percy saw that familiar smirk, the one that always preceded trouble, usually at Percy's expense. It was good to be on this side of that smirk.

Rounding a corner, a purple light slashed open Fred's jacket.

"Oi! That's dragon hide!"

Another jet of red light. Percy threw up a shield, yelling when the spell knocked him back. Another man ran up alongside Percy, firing spells. Running feet and war cries brought the cavalry, the man Percy was dueling fell back. His hood slipped, and Percy recognized that high forehead and streaked hair. Pius Thickness.

Anger surged through Percy. For months he had sat in this man's office, controlling every breath he took for fear of being noticed, of being caught. Percy thought of the lists he'd smuggled out of the Ministry with the names of Muggle-born witches and wizards summoned before the Commission. The names of those he could not save burned in Percy's gut. Pius Thickness, with his vacant look and Death Eater toadies.

"Hello, Minister!" bellowed Percy.*

The jinx slipped from his wand and hit Thickness in the chest. Percy gave no thought to the spell before casting it, he simply acted on anger and instinct. Satisfaction pumped through Percy when the Minister fell to the ground.

"Did I mention I'm resigning?"*

"You're joking, Perce!" shouted Fred.*

Three stunners hit the other Death Eater, the bang of the spells reverberating off the walls. The Minister writhed on the ground, clutching his chest in discomfort, with tiny spikes forming all over him. The man was turning into a sea urchin. Well, Percy had always been good at Transfiguration. Glancing around, he saw Fred's wide smile beaming at him, Ron standing beside him. Harry and Hermione were there, too. For a moment the battle was far away, and Percy was with his brothers. Satisfaction turned to pride at Fred's laugh, at Ron's return.

"You actually are joking, Perce…. I don't think I've heard you joke since you were—"*

The air exploded.*

Notes:

*Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by JK Rowling, Chapter 31 The Battle of Hogwarts, pages 609-10

*Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by JK Rowling, Chapter 31 The Battle of Hogwarts, page 610

*Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by JK Rowling, Chapter 31 The Battle of Hogwarts, page 636

Chapter 53

Duels clogged the stairwells, but George was a man possessed. Fleur dodged jinxes and combatants, following him as he tore through the crowd. She wanted to yell at him to slow down, to look out, what good were they to Fred if they were dead, but she could not. He would not listen. George's need was greater than safety. Flicking her wand, a shield appeared around George, a curse bouncing off.

There was even more fighting in the entrance hall. The mighty, oaken doors gaped open like a ripped blouse. Armor scattered, stirring uselessly, across the front steps. A man in Healer's robes knelt beside a body. Black hoods and masks everywhere.

"George!" Fleur yelled.

He did not slow. Pushing a boy out of the way, George came face to face with a tall, thick Death Eater. George cast first, but the man deflected it. The duel raged, and Fleur weaved in and out of bodies.

The entire castle shook. Time slowed. George fell at the feet of the Death Eater, not moving. The man pointed his wand at George's face, and Fleur screamed. Her feet were moving faster than time, fear turning her blood cold, she felt like the wind. She thrust herself between George and the Death Eater, power surging through her, a golden glow encompassing her. A purple jet of light flew from the Death Eater's wand, bounced off her shield, and slashed across the man's chest. He screamed, blood pouring down his front. Fleur blasted him with a Stunner, he flew across the hall and smashed into glass tubes full of jewels.

Time rushed at Fleur. Screams and yells swamped her senses. She blinked at her hands, they were shaking. It was her Veela magic, it saved her, it saved George. She did not know how. Sinking to her knees, Fleur pulled George into her lap. He stared up at her blankly, tears on his dirty face.

"I'm too late," he said.

oOo

The world was dust and pain. Slowly, Percy uncovered his head, registering thanks that his glasses were still on his face. Everything ached from being blasted through the air and crashing on top of the rubble, but nothing seemed to be broken or bleeding. Immediately, he looked for his little brothers. Ron stirred, shaking out his long limbs. Between them, Fred lie still laughing.

Percy blinked. His breath stilled in his lungs. Fred was laughing. At him, at Percy. He had made Fred laugh, and he still was. Soundlessly.

Wind whistled past him, biting and brisk. There was a hole in the bloody wall, and Ron was there with overgrown hands and feet, his face starkly white under the black soot. And then Percy heard a terrible cry, and he thought…he thought maybe that cry was coming from him.

"No—no—no!" Ron was shouting. "No! Fred! No!"*

Percy shook Fred. He wished Ron would shut up because of course Fred—No. This was a stupid prank. Just a moment ago Fred was laughing. They were fighting, together. Any second Fred would jump up and take the piss. They were fighting together, dammit.

"Get down!"*

Throwing himself over Fred, one thought in his head. Percy was not going to let the prat get hurt while playing his bloody prank. But Fred didn't move. He didn't even flinch, and Percy's ear was pressed to his brother's chest and there was nothing. Fred was…he was…Fred was dead. Inside his own chest, Percy's heart pounded out the same rhythm over and over: Too late! Too late! Too late! Hands curling around his brother's jacket, he vaguely heard somebody screaming at him to move.

"Percy!" Ron was there, pulling Percy by the shoulders. "Percy, you can't do anything for him! We're going to—"*

His words were cut off by another scream. There was a scuffle and flashes of light. An emotion too terrible to name clawed at Percy's insides. Some part of him recognized it, he'd felt this before, when Ginny was taken to the Chamber of Secrets. Only this time it was more real, wholly formed, with not an inkling of horrible hope to keep its crushing weight at bay. What would he tell Mum this time?

"Let's move, NOW!" *

Harry Potter's face loomed into Percy's line of vision. The black-haired man stooped to hook his hands under Fred's armpits. Yes. Percy's brain snapped together painfully when he realized what Harry intended. Scrambling up, Percy grabbed each of Fred's legs. The two of them hurried, hunched to avoid curses flying in through the hole, down the corridor.

"Here," Harry said. They moved Fred into a niche where a suit of armor once stood. Turning away, Harry rushed off in the direction Ron and Hermione had disappeared, but Percy stayed. Only a moment, but he stayed.*

In the years since Percy left his family, Fred's features had lost their boyishness. Maybe he was every bit as reckless and brash as he'd always been, maybe he still took his jokes too far, but Fred had forgiven Percy. Before anybody else, before Mum, Fred had offered Percy his hand. There would never be a day in Percy's life he wasn't grateful for his brother.

Tears streaked down Percy's face. He wiped a hand across his nose and sniffled. All of his blood had emptied from his body, only anger coursed through his veins now. He wanted to smash something. His wand hand shook with the need to do violence. Half-blind with grief, Percy tore through the corridors looking for something that would make this pain go away.

oOo

The tower trembled under her feet, screams erupting. Audrey grabbed for the edge of the parapet, but her hand slid down the smooth stone. Knocked to the ground, Audrey looked around to see Flitwick and the other students also forced off their feet as the tower rocked and quaked beneath them.

"The castle's been hit," one of the girls shrieked.

Audrey thought this was an overly obvious statement, but she had little time to dwell on that. An enormous set of pincers and eight eyes appeared over the ledge of the parapet. Scuttling away, Audrey crashed into the person behind her. Her heart was galloping in her chest, her hand shook as she tried to point her wand at the monster.

"Get down, children, we must go!" Flick yelled.

Audrey's Stunner went wildly awry, but somebody else hit the stone ledge the Acromantula was climbing over, and the side of the parapet exploded. The black, hairy body flew into the night, the side of the tower crumbling under Audrey. She screamed and scrabbled for purchase, but it was no use. The tower was collapsing and Audrey was falling. It was only seconds, and yet it felt longer. It felt like a lifetime, her lifetime. She saw it all. Her parents at Platform 9¾ waving her goodbye, her sisters' weddings, Seth's face when he dried her tears, even Brian's scowl when he bought her books, and her nieces. Fleur, resplendent before the first task of the Tri Wizard Tournament.

In those seconds, Audrey saw herself in white tulle. There a stone cottage and ginger babies, sunny days and stacks of books. She saw the things she would miss. And there was Percy, his unsure smile and warm eyes and big hands.

Pointing her wand at the ground, Audrey shouted, "Molliare! Molliare!"

Would it be enough? How high up was the tower? Would any cushioning charm be able to break a fall from such a height?

Then her momentum slowed. Instead of hurtling to her death, Audrey was gliding to the ground, landing with a thud on a rubbery surface. Rolling onto her back, Audrey looked up and saw a halo of blonde hair on a broomstick hovering above her.

"Cheers!" she yelled, the girl flying off.

For a moment, Audrey lie on the ground taking deep breaths. She needed to find Percy.

oOo

Fleur closed the door quietly, setting several obscure locking charms that Bill had taught her. She did not think anyone could hear them, but she set sound dampening charms as well. On his knees, face first into the floor, George sobbed. The sound battered at Fleur's insides. Grief was not new to her. She had felt another's grief too many times in the last months and years. This was not grief that George felt. It was a great nothingness.

It had taken so much time, but Fleur half-dragged George out of the Great Hall under a Disillusionment charm. Many instances Fleur thought they would be caught in the crossfire of duels, but somehow she managed to find a quiet room. It was an unused classroom, Fleur thought. She did not light any candles; this kind of sorrow was reserved for the dark of night.

Sinking to her knees, Fleur sat quietly by her brother-in-law. She would not ask him if he was sure that Fred was dead. She did not have to. Nothing else could have caused such pain. Nor would she ask how he knew. The bond between Fred and George was too strong not to be felt when severed.

Tears pressed against the backs of her eyes.

"I-I w-wasn't—" George stuttered. "Merlin, Fleur, I wasn't with him."

He was rocking back and forth, wailing.

Fleur closed her eyes, tears silently slipping down her cheeks. She said nothing to this, because no words—French or English—could offer him comfort. They would all be lies. It was not going to be better, maybe not ever. So, she said nothing to this man who was weeping at her side.

"Fleur. Fleur." Some time passed, and George sat up, wiping his eyes. "We can't stay here."

"Yes. Oui. I zink we are safe."

George shook his head. "We can't stay here. The battle…we have to do our part."

Fleur stared at the outline of George's profile. "Why?"

"What do you mean? My friends and family—"

"Do you zink I will let you commit suicide?" she hissed. "You will not go out zere to die. I will not permit it."

Silence suffocated them. Fleur stared at George, but he did not look at her. Let her be wrong, she prayed for this. She would stop him just as she promised she would, but she did not want to have to. She would do it for Bill, she would do it for Molly and Arthur. Most of all, she would do it for George.

He shook his head. "I'm not going to commit suicide, I swear. Fred…. It's the right thing to do. We have to fight because it's right."

"Promise me!" Fleur grabbed George's lapels. "You will fight to stay alive, promise me."

"I promise."

oOo

"Bill Weasley."

The silver lynx paced back and forth, but Bill was rather busy. Grunting, he cast a battering jinx at the Death Eater before him. The man tried to dodge but was caught across the shoulders and knocked to the ground. Bill took advantage and Stunned the man, wrapping him up like a Christmas gift with a neat Incarcerous spell. Wiping his brow, Bill turned his attention to Kingsley's impatient Patronus.

"Reinforcements are needed at the front entrance," it reported with Kingsley's deep tones. "Meet near the greenhouses for further instructions."

Bill looked across the grounds to where the windows of the greenhouses stood in shadow beneath clouds and swarms of Dementors. In the distance, the Quidditch pitch was up in flames. A half dozen giants lumbered, swinging clubs and batting at Oliver Wood's Quidditch team as they swooped through the air. Another three giants sprawled across the lawns, pinned by ropes. Ravenclaw Tower tumbled into heaps of stone.

The sight tore at Bill's insides, but he couldn't dwell on it. The only option was to move forward, or all would be lost. In the back of his mind, Bill wondered if all was already lost. He knew Remus was gone already. Did Tonks know?

Running flat out, dodging hexes and spells, Bill kept his mind narrowly focused. The greenhouse, only fifty yards away. Above him, Oliver Wood and Katie Bell were shooting hexes at a giant, banking when it swiped at their broomsticks. Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet flew figure eights around the giant's thick legs, wrapping ropes around his knees.

"Now!" Angelina screamed.

She and Alicia pulled hard on the ropes. The giant's legs were yanked together, and he fell like a great oak, bellowing loudly. Rolling away, Bill narrowly escaped being crushed as it crashed to the ground. The earth quaked, sending duelers to their knees, curses going askew.

Skirting past the giant, Bill heard the thud as its club banged into its head, but he didn't look back. Combatants were regaining their feet. A hooded man bore down on Anthony Goldstein who was still scrabbling across the ground for his glass. With a flick of his wand, Bill Stunned the villain and ran on. In the distance, he saw wooden desks galloping out of the front doors, McGonagall following. She stood, lit by the torches on either side of the doors, hair whipping in the wind and wand raised above her head.

Across the lawn, Bill saw the centaur with bow and arrow. He felled a Snatcher but was attacked by two others who jumped on the centaur's back. Screaming and kicking, he spun in circles trying to dislodge his attackers, but they clung on. Bill glanced at the greenhouses, then pivoted, charging the centaur. He grabbed one Snatcher by the leg and pulled. He fell beneath the centaur's hooves, screaming as he was trampled.

From the other side, students rushed at the other attacker. For a moment, Bill watched as they yanked the Snatcher away from the centaur. A burly boy with blonde hair sank his fist in the Snatcher's face again and again, blood spurting from his face. One of the girls grabbed the boy's arm.

"Enough, McLaggen!"

The boy pulled back, blood smearing his hand, then stalked away.

The centaur gathered his broken bow from the ground and limped away, the students rushing in the other direction. Bill glanced at the mangled Snatchers, noting the rise and fall of each of their chests. Shaking his head, he raced again for Kingsley.

The battle raged around Bill in all directions. Screams and blasts. The hot woody scent of bleachers burning assaulted his nose. Under his boots, the grass was slick with who-knew-what, and Bill didn't want to know. Chaos burst out of the castles as a wave of acromantula pulsated into the castle and back out again. A dog's frightened bark rang through the night as the hairy, black mass undulated towards the Forbidden Forest.

Then all sound ceased. Bill felt chilled to his bones, his heart thudding between his ears. Through the night, swirling and awful, a swarm of Dementors rolled up the drive towards the castle. In their wake, they left nothing but darkness and despair. Bill's thoughts felt fragmented. He tried to form a happy memory, but there must have been hundreds of Dementors. They clouded his mind, they sucked all hope from his soul.

Where was Fleur? Bill pictured that bastard Scabior. He saw Fleur's blouse ripped and her tears…. Shaking his head, Bill wrenched his thoughts away. All of the night's horrors pressed in on him. Remus, lifeless and broken. The flaming Quidditch pitch. McLaggen pounding a defenseless man. They were overwhelmed and outnumbered.

All night Bill had been keeping that knowledge at bay, but now it flooded him. It was a lost cause. They didn't have the numbers or experience to fight these hoards. Bill's entire family was at Hogwarts, but he had no idea where any of them were. How long would it take to collect them all? No.

Bill shook his head. He couldn't let the despair take over. He forced Fleur's face to the front of his mind's eye. Think of our wedding. He tried to cast his Patronus. The great mane formed, then shook out of existence.

Think of something happy…. Think of Fleur….

Three silver creatures flew into the air. Bill was too far away to make out their shapes, but their luminosity lit the night, pushing back the Dementors. Taking deep breaths, Bill worked to clear his mind of all its shadows. Then he saw it. The great stag. Harry's stag. Hope filled Bill's chest. If Harry was alive, then they still had a chance, they had hope. And that meant Bill had a job to do.

Into the breech he went. Bill sped past duels, casting jinxes and Stunners when he could. Flitwick was fighting Bellatrix Lestrange—a flurry of wand slashes and jets of light. A few yards away from the greenhouses, Yaxley backed out of a corner, fighting a small girl…. Bloody hell, that was Ginny.

It felt like all of Bill's blood drained from his body. She fought like a harpy. Fierce, her teeth barred, her eyes flashing, her long hair swinging around her. She matched Yaxley's skill with passion. Hitting him again and again with hexes. The Death Eater shrieked, barely able to construct a shield to fend off the barrage of spells that just kept coming. Bill had never seen such quickness or ferocity in a duel.

"Immobulus!"

The jinx flew past Ginny's defenses, freezing her on the spot. Yaxley hit her with a Cruciatus. Screaming, Ginny fell to the ground, convulsing. The blood in Bill's body surged back, boiling in his veins. His wand slashed through the air, a roar erupting from his chest. Yaxley fell to the ground, under Bill's Torture Curse. The man's back bowed, his hands flexing as he tore at his clothes, the veins in his neck and forehead straining.

Bill wrenched his wand away, his teeth clenched. "Why don't you pick on somebody your own size?"

Feet away from him, Ginny was resting on her elbows, staring up at him. Bill didn't want to know what she saw. Rage coursed through him, but he knew. He knew what he had done, and bile was in his throat. Spitting at Yaxley, he waited as the man climbed to his feet.

"Filthy blood traitor," the man spat.

"That the best you got?" Bill said. "Let's do this."

Each wizard pointed his wand. Yaxley cast first. A jinx exploded at Bill's feet, but he leapt back.

"Rictumsempra! Conjuctivitis!" Ginny screamed, hitting the Death Eater with both curses. The man writhed, rubbing his eyes with one hand, but ending the spells with the other. He shot a hex at Ginny, who danced out of the way, and Bill rammed Yaxley with a curse. Forced into the dirt, the man rolled onto his back, crawling backwards on his elbows. That's when a high, thin voice reverberated through the grounds. Chills spilled down Bill's spine. They all froze.

"You have fought valiantly. Lord Voldemort knows how to value bravery."*

The voice seemed to come from the walls, the ground, the sky. It surrounded them on all sides, as if it had caught Hogwarts in a net. Bill fought to keep his eyes on Yaxley, when really he wanted to look at Ginny, make sure she was safe.

"Yet you have sustained heavy losses. If you continue to resist me, you will all die, one by one. I do not wish this to happen. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a loss and a waste.*

"Lord Voldemort is merciful. I command my forces to retreat immediately."*

Before Bill could move, Yaxley Disapparated. From all around the grounds, Bill could hear the pop of Death Eaters retreating. Was that the right word? Retreat indicated the end of fighting when one side pulled out. Bill did not think they would be so lucky. Whatever ploy that monster was playing, this battle was far from over. Looking to Ginny, he saw his sister's stark white face, then she was in his arms.

"You have one hour. Dispose of your dead with dignity," Voldemort continued. "Treat your injured.*

"I speak now, Harry Potter, directly to you."*

Ginny stiffened against Bill at the mention of Harry's name.

"You have permitted your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. I shall wait one hour in the Forbidden Forest. If, at the end of that hour, you have not come to me, have not given yourself up, then battle recommences. This time, I shall enter the fray myself, Harry Potter, and I shall find you, and I shall punish every last man, woman, and child who has tried to conceal you from me. One hour."*

"No!" Ginny gasped. She pulled away, looking up at Bill with big eyes. "He wouldn't be so stupid."

Bill said nothing. He didn't know Harry Potter that well, certainly not well enough to know if the man would willingly walk into his own death. All he could hope was that Harry knew it would be a fruitless endeavor. The Defenders of Hogwarts would stand to the last man, and Voldemort would murder every one cheerfully.

Notes:

*Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by JK Rowling, Chapter 31 Battle of Hogwarts page 637

*Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by JK Rowling, Chapter 32 The Elder Wand page 638

*Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by JK Rowling, Chapter 32 The Elder Wand page 638-639

*Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by JK Rowling, Chapter 32 The Elder Wand page 639

*Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by JK Rowling, Chapter 33 The Prince's Tale page 659

*Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by JK Rowling, Chapter 33 The Prince's Tale page 660

Chapter 54

The voice faded away. Bill and Ginny stood for a moment more, clinging to one another. Slowly, from all around the grounds, there was a quiet rustling. Those fighters still standing began the work of helping those who could not. The night gathered its darkness close like a blanket over the grounds, but dawn would soon come. Holding Ginny at arm's length, Bill tried to think of what to do next.

"Remus," Bill started, his voice hitched. "He—"

"Is he injured?" Ginny asked, but her lip trembled.

Bill shook his head, and Ginny choked out a sob. "He's near Ravenclaw Tower. Help me, please?"

"Do-do you think Tonks knows?"

"I don't know."

Ginny bit her lip, scrunching her nose. "Let's go then."

Bill turned to lead Ginny from that spot, and she placed her hand in his.

oOo

The silence in the castle was complete. All around her, Fleur could see the defenders of Hogwarts, wands in hand, shoulders tense, waiting for the next blow. None of them moved, though there was much work to be done. It was not time for that yet. First there must be silence, funereal and reverent. At Fleur's side, George leaned against the wall, covering his eyes with his hand. She did not think he was crying. It was not time for that yet.

One by one, the defenders came to life. Walking heavily away from the corridor. They reached for each other, hands finding partners to hold, arms across shoulders. There were no tears. The work was not done yet.

Fleur glanced at her brother-in-law. His hands dangled at his sides, his gaze staring straight ahead. There was a bit of blood trickling from a cut over his eye, dirt streaked across his face. He looked incredibly hurt.

"I have to find him," George said quietly.

Fleur knew there were many injured. She should lend her skills to Madam Pomfrey.

"Where do we begin?" she asked.

"He was supposed to be covering the secret passageway nearest the Room of Requirement, but I don't know…."

"Zen we shall start zere."

oOo

Percy climbed the stairs and walked down the corridor until he stood before the niche where he and Harry had stowed Fred's body. That need for violence had not carried him very far from this spot. Percy had dueled Rookwood until the man had fallen backwards down a staircase. Then there was another Death Eater, and another and another. And now he was back where he started.

There was a howling wind where his heart was meant to be. Fred's body was undisturbed. His laugh still marked his face, his limbs arranged as though he were sleeping. Sometimes, when they were growing up, it was Percy's job to wake Fred and George. It was like walking into a hexing. But for a moment, especially when they were very small, Fred and George would look so peaceful. Well, there would be no waking Fred now.

Stooping down, Percy hooked his hands under Fred's armpits and heaved. The body was already growing stiff, his weight immense. It didn't matter. Percy would take care of his brother this one last time, he owed him that much.

Percy managed to get halfway to the staircase, when running feet brought him face to face with Katie Bell. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he should be surprised to see her, but somehow he couldn't muster it. He simply stared at her dirty face, blonde hair matted to her cheeks, blue eyes wide as she gaped at Fred.

"Oliver!" she screamed, her voice shaking. "It's—Percy—Help!"

It was a moment, then Oliver was standing before Percy. Oliver looked windblown, like he'd just walked off the pitch. Relief flooded Percy, his knees went weak, and it was all he could do to remain standing. Looking from the body to Percy, Oliver didn't hesitate. He grabbed Fred's legs.

"Why aren't you using magic, Perce?" Oliver asked, then directed his next words to Katie. "To the Great Hall."

Percy had no idea how long it took them to get to the Great Hall. It felt as though time ceased to exist—though it was currently a precious commodity. Still, for Percy, there was only that moment where his little brother was dead, and it stretched on for an eternity, unrelenting. He backed into the Great Hall, no longer familiar. The tables were gone. The students and staff gathered there were in tattered robes and dirty nightclothes, smeared in blood and soot. Katie Transfigured her sweater into a rough blanket, and they lay Fred's body across it. And then, Percy was kneeling beside Fred.

"Percy," Oliver's voice rumbled overhead, then he hauled Percy off the ground and into his arms where Percy collapsed into his friend. He sobbed into Oliver's chest, curled there like a child. Undignified and unbearable. The weight of Fred's death was crushing.

"It was my fault," Percy choked out. "I distracted him. I-I should have stayed away, I—It was my fault."

"Shut up, Percy," Oliver cupped his hand around Percy's head.

"I'm a terrible brother."

"It's war," Oliver rasped.

After a moment, Percy pulled away, extracting a handkerchief from his pocket and wiping his eyes.

"Does anybody else know?" Oliver asked, one hand still on Percy's shoulder.

Percy took a deep breath before speaking, "Ron." His voice broke. "Ronnie was there."

"Merlin knows where he is." Oliver looked around. "Listen. Stay here, I'll find Bill or your dad, yeah? What about Audrey?"

Percy's head snapped up. He hadn't thought of Audrey since before…before Fred. Now a new worry pressed in on Percy. He wanted her to stay away from Hogwarts, but he knew she hadn't. Audrey had true bravery—she did the right thing even when it scared her. The thought of her lying hurt somewhere in this castle made his chest ache.

"I don't know," Percy admitted hoarsely. "She went to fetch her brother-in-law. We were going to meet up here, at the castle."

"She's a scrappy little witch, Percy, she'll show up."

Oliver thumped Percy on the back, then jogged to the entrance hall. Without Oliver to hold him up, Percy sank to his knees beside Fred. It was only when he felt an arm around his shoulders that Percy realized Katie was still by his side.

oOo

"Bill!"

Pointing his lit wand in Ginny's direction, Bill squinted at her doubled form. They were searching near the rubble of Ravenclaw Tower. Bill hoped that Remus's body wasn't buried under the crumbled stone, but he couldn't be sure.

"Did you find him?" Bill called.

It was like they were playing a ghastly version of hide and fucking seek.

"Bill," Ginny said again, her voice breaking. "It's Tonks."

Bill dashed to Ginny's side, the tears in her eyes glinted like diamonds in the light of his wand. At her feet, pink hair and ridiculous boots, was Nymphadora Tonks staring up at the stars. There was a smudge of dirt on her cheek, and her eyes were brown. Bill went to one knee, reaching out to close her eyelids. Remus and Tonks, gone. His heart broke for the baby he'd never even met.

"They called him Teddy," Ginny whispered.

Bill nodded. Where was Charlie? Would he reach Hogwarts soon? How was Bill going to tell his little brother that he'd lost another friend to this blighted war? Who was going to tell Mrs. Tonks?

"Can you carry her?" Ginny asked.

Bill looked at Ginny. "No," he confessed. "My arm never healed right."

Tears dripped down Ginny's nose. "I'll make a stretcher. We'll take her to the Great Hall, then we'll come back for Remus."

And she did. Bill marveled at his baby sister as she took charge, but he wished she didn't have to. With a wave of her wand, the conjured stretcher lifted into the air and floated before them. As they neared the Great Hall, Bill saw a burly figure sprinting toward them, and fear hardened in his stomach.

"Bill!" Oliver called, stumbling to a stop, broad chest heaving.

Every nerve in Bill's body was on end, alert for fresh disaster. "What is it? Is it Percy?"

Oliver shook his head. "Not Percy…Fred. Fred's dead."

Beside them, Ginny began trembling. The stretcher jumped and shuddered as the convulsions overtook her. They all watched as if in slow motion as Tonks' body was dumped over the edge into the grass with a thud.

"Oh, Merlin!" Ginny screamed, she began to sink to her knees, but Bill caught her. "What did I do? I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

"They're in the Great Hall," Oliver said thickly. "I'll-I'll—" He motioned to Tonks, then scooped her up.

Bill turned away, pushing Ginny ahead of him. There was a weight in his face, his eyes burned, his chest was clogged. Fred was dead, but Oliver had said "they," they were in the Great Hall. Who else? George? Surely George was with Fred, but then Bill knew that the unthinkable had happened. He'd lost a brother—so many times he worried that this would happen, and yet not like this. Not just Fred. It never occurred to Bill to even worry that just Fred would die. Fred and George were invincible when they were together, how could this have happened?

Inside the Great Hall, the House tables had been Vanished. On the raised platform, Madam Pomfrey and Healer Pucey were tending to the injured. Somebody bumped into Bill, and he looked to his side to see Seamus Finnegan carrying a bloodied girl to the dais, a bow straggling in her hair. Other witches and wizards lingered along the edges of the room, hugging each other and crying softly. Down the center of the room, the dead were being laid in rows. At the far end where the Gryffindor table should have been, he saw Percy kneeling with a blond girl's arm around his shoulders.

"Percy!" Ginny shrieked, and broke into a run.

Their brother climbed to his feet, turning just in time to be enveloped in Ginny's hard embrace, her face pressed into his chest. Then Percy looked at Bill standing in the doorway, his expression broken. Forcing one foot in front of the next, Bill joined his brother and sister, the other girl melted away. Bill looked down at Fred, and his heart broke.

"I'm sorry," Percy whispered.

"Were-were you there, Perce?" Bill asked.

Percy's face crumpled, and he nodded. "I-I…yeah. And Ronnie."

"Where's George?" Ginny asked. She pulled back, her tear stained face staring up at Percy.

"I don't know," Percy answered. "They weren't-weren't together."

"He doesn't know?" Ginny whispered.

The three siblings fell into silence at the horror of it. Bill looked again at Fred, he seemed to be smiling. Suddenly, Bill knew how it had come to be just Fred. They were invincible, together.

"I distracted him," Percy said. "I'm sorry, Bill—"

Bill looked back at Percy's face. It was white under the dirt and soot, tear tracks blazing a path through the muck. He didn't know what Percy was talking about, and in that moment he didn't care. There were things he needed to do, beginning with finding Mum and Dad.

"Whatever happened, Perce, it wasn't your fault. I-I need to find Dad, take care of Ginny, yeah?"

Percy nodded. He stroked his long fingers through Ginny's hair, kissing the top of her head. Patting Percy on the shoulder, Bill turned away and marched into the entrance hall, trying desperately to hang onto his resolve. The last thing any of them needed was for Bill to crumple into tears, too. The entrance hall was a mess. The emeralds from the Slytherin House hourglass spilled across the floor. The marble staircase was gouged, the balustrade blown away in places. People came and went, carrying the dead and injured. But Bill was an island. For a moment he was in a place where no thought penetrated his mind, just emotion. It was dull and horrific, waiting for the moment to slam into him.

That moment was not now. He would have to conjure a Patronus to summon his parents to the Great Hall straight away. Searching for them would be a waste of precious time, and it would risk letting them find out about Fred before he could tell them. With a deep breath, Bill fought to center himself, to find a happy memory. It didn't matter that all of those felt very far away at the moment.

But there was no need. Just as he was lifting his wand, Mum and Dad walked through the door, leaning on each other. They saw Bill almost at the same instant that he saw them, and his face must have betrayed some of his emotions. Mum became instantly alert, her brow furrowed. Dad braced himself, his mouth flattening into a trembling line.

"What is it, son?" Dad asked, as they approached.

Bill took a deep breath, the name coming out as he exhaled, "Fred."

Mum's hand trembled as she covered her mouth. "Only-only Fred?"

"Yes."

They glanced at each other, the horror of Fred dying alone becoming real. Mum was the first to move. She burst forward, through the entrance of the Great Hall and down the aisle until she stood at Fred's feet. Dad lingered a moment. He looked helplessly at Bill, tears in his eyes, then turned away. He followed at a slower pace until he too stood before Fred. He patted Percy on the back, he hugged Ginny, then he knelt with Mum by Fred's side.

And Bill remained in the entrance hall, watching. His job wasn't done yet. There was still George. Surely Ronnie would turn up on his own, with Harry and Hermione in tow. Somehow, for the first time in months, Bill didn't worry for Ron's safety. He was somewhere, doing what Ron did: helping Harry Potter be a hero. Besides finding George, Bill needed Fleur, but again his job was easier than expected.

Turning to the grand staircase, he saw both of them walking down. George's head hung heavily, but Fleur stared at Bill. She was whole, dirty and unscathed, and Bill couldn't take his eyes off of her. Some of the tension in his chest eased. George walked right past Bill and into the Great Hall, but Fleur stopped before him.

"He knows," she said softly.

Bill closed his eyes, not surprised.

"He knew zee moment it happened. I was wiz him."

Bill's love for Fleur knew no bounds. He was so grateful that she was with George when Fred wasn't. That his little brother didn't have to be alone in the worst moment of his life. Bill choked as the clog in his chest shifted. Tears forced their way out of his eyes. Fleur's arms were around him, and his face was in her sweaty neck.

"Come," she whispered. "Be wiz your family, and I will be zee strong one for a little longer."

oOo

Bill straightened. Tears glistened on his face, and he reached up to wipe them away, but Fleur stopped him. Gently, with the sleeve of her blouse, she patted the moisture from his cheeks. He clasped her other hand, his eyes closing, but only for a moment. When they opened again, he pulled Fleur out of the way as students carried a body into the Great Hall.

Glancing again, Fleur noticed the careworn robes and thin mustache. "Is zat—"

"Remus," Bill said hoarsely. "Tonks is gone, too."

Fleur looked up at Bill, too stunned to say anything. Remus, he had shown her a picture of the baby only hours ago, and now that baby was an orphan. For a moment, Fleur wanted to run away from this place, she wanted to find that baby and never let go. Non, she was needed here. Pulling on Bill's hand, she led him into the Great Hall.

The ceiling overhead reflected the cloudy sky. Hardly any stars twinkled in that inky sky, as if they could not bear to witness the sight below them. The dead were already so many. The mourners many more. Fleur glanced at the raised platform where the injured were being tended. The magnificent centaur was there, bleeding profusely. She was needed there, but first Bill needed her.

The Weasleys were gathered around Fred's body. It was the quietest Fleur had ever seen the family, who seemed noisy even in their sleep. George kneeled by his twin's head, staring into that familiar face, at that ghostly smile, but no tears came to George's eyes. Maybe he had already cried them all. But Molly and Arthur's grief was only beginning. Molly wept until finally she collapsed across Fred's chest with a sob, and poor Arthur could only stroke her hair. Ginny clung to Percy, who looked up as Fleur and Bill approached. His eyes were red behind his glasses.

For a moment, Fleur wondered where Audrey was but stopped her thoughts there. Looking around the room, Fleur did not know most of these people. She recognized some of the Order members and professors, but most of the students were strangers to her. Yet, she had fought by their side. Now, she felt their sorrow and desperation. The need to know that friends and loved ones were alive, the fear that they were not. Fleur wrapped her arms around Bill and leaned her head against his shoulder.

It was then that she saw Ron and Hermione approach. The bushy haired girl hugged Ginny tightly. Ron slipped between Bill and Percy, who flung an arm around his little brother's shoulders. The Great Hall held a holy quiet, disturbed only by snuffling cries.

Until that quiet was broken.

"PERCY!"

Heads turned as the shriek rendered the silence, and Fleur knew that voice. For a moment, the urge to laugh poked at her ribs. Ridiculous relief tightened her skin. Maybe she would cry instead. Craning her neck, Fleur saw a blur of dark hair as Audrey sprinted down the aisle.

"Oi," Ron said, elbowing Percy in the side. "Step lively, Perce, incoming."

Percy looked up just in time to brace for impact. Fleur was not sure how it happened. Maybe Audrey jumped, or maybe Percy picked her up, it did not matter. Audrey's arms were around Percy's neck, his face buried in her hair, her feet dangling above the ground.

oOo

Somehow, Audrey had ended up with Luna Lovegood and Anthony Boot fighting Death Eaters near the Black Lake. After You-Know-Who called off his minions, it had taken her forever to pick her way across the grounds in the dark. The smell of blood exploded into the air with every step she took. Only one thought kept her from puking: she must find Percy.

The destruction was even worse near the castle. Audrey knew rather all too well that part of Ravenclaw Tower had crumbled, but now she could see that a hole gaped in the side of the castle. Stone blocks tumbled like an untidy mess at its base. Dark forms lie motionless on the ground. Bodies. Guiltily, she knew she should have stopped, helped where she could, but she didn't. All she wanted was to know her Gryffindor was safe, she would pay her penance later.

Now, holding Percy's face between her hands, she kissed his cheeks and his mouth. "Where have you been? We should have never separated. We should have agreed on a meeting place. I've been so scared…."

She meant that in a million tiny ways. She had been so scared, and not only of the fighting. Kissing Percy's cheek one more time, Audrey pulled away and took in his ashen face and red eyes. Looking around for the first time, Audrey noticed the other Weasleys. There was a tall boy with a long nose that must be Ron. He and Bill looked torn between the desire to laugh and cry.

Then she noticed Mr. and Mrs. Weasley staring up at her from beside the body of one of the twins. Audrey slid out of Percy's embrace to land on her feet at the exact instant that she was hit with the enormity of the moment she had intruded on. She looked at Percy again, his heartbreak written across his face. Reaching up, Audrey placed a hand on his cheek and he closed his eyes.

"Bill," Fleur's melodic voice cut in. "Zere are so many injured, and I can help…."

"Of course," Bill said, glancing behind him at the raised platform. He looked at his brothers and said, "Ron, Percy, we should help with the recovery effort."

"I'll go, too," Ginny said.

"Right." Bill nodded and clamped Percy on the shoulder as he walked by. "Take a moment."

Percy glanced at Bill, then back at Audrey.

"I'm so sorry about…" Audrey whispered.

"Fred."

Looking once more at Fred's body, Audrey moved into Percy, wrapping her arms around him. It felt like not enough, but she was at a loss to know what to do for him in that moment. She couldn't help but think of her own siblings, all safely far from Hogwarts on this night. She was a little disgusted with the lot of them, but relieved, too.

"I'm-I'm glad you're…here," Percy said quietly bending to speak into her ear. "Not here—safe—alive—I'm glad…."

"That goes both ways," Audrey said, cutting off his rambling.

"I'm going to…;"

Audrey nodded, knowing that Percy needed to be with his remaining siblings. She wanted to stay with him but wasn't sure that was what he wanted or needed. Presumably the battle would resume in…she didn't even know, she'd lost track of time. That was just it, though, she didn't want to lose track of Percy again. She watched with a pit in her stomach as Percy followed Bill and Ron out of the Great Hall.

When Percy was gone, Fleur came to stand in his place.

"Zat was quite zee entrance," Fleur whispered.

Audrey glanced at Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, noticing George for the first time. "Shut it."

Fleur hugged Audrey.

"That was maybe not the best way to meet my boyfriend's parents, huh?"

Fleur snorted, which made Audrey laugh just a little.

"Oh, Merlin," Audrey said, tears were gathering in her eyes. "I just realized that I'm the type of person who makes jokes at the absolutely most horrible moments."

"It is a gift," Fleur said, and pulled away to look at her friend.

"He looks so lost," Audrey said, her tone serious. "I'm not sure what to do for him."

"Do not give up on him, zat is all."

oOo

A few small groups still combed the grounds for the dead or injured, but the Great Hall was now crowded. Minor injuries were segregated at the Slytherin table, tended to by anybody with a capable healing spell, such as Percy. He moved from one student to the next, closing up cuts and setting broken fingers. Fleur prowled through the tables, assessing more serious wounds. Bill and Neville Longbottom had been drafted into helping her move those patients to the dais where Madam Pomfrey worked.

Percy was glad for the distraction. Inside, he felt numb and raw all at once. As long as he kept moving onto the next task, he didn't have to deal with the chasm inside his chest. Still, every once in a while, he looked around, searching for each family member. Fleur's silvery hair was the easiest to find. Bill was usually nearby. A little while ago, Percy noticed that Ron and Hermione had disappeared. He didn't like that and wondered if he should alert Bill, but decided against it in the end. The battle was not truly over, after all, and Ron still had a part to play. Cowardly, Percy avoided looking at the center of the room. He knew what he'd find because it hadn't changed. Mum, Dad, George, and Fred.

Glancing further down the row, Percy saw Audrey. She, too, was setting fingers and healing gashes. A flicker of warmth lit in his chest every time he looked at her—he knew what it cost her to perform such tasks, she was positively green. Then guilt would swoop into his stomach. Every time he felt something near gratitude, let alone happiness, he remembered that Fred was dead.

Tears tried to creep into his eyes, but Percy blinked them away. Looking up at the ceiling, he noticed that the sky was lightening. Their hour must be close to over. He looked again at Audrey. There was no way to know what would happen next, except for one thing. Percy knew they would keep fighting, probably to the end. So be it, but he wasn't going to let guilt keep him from the people he loved, not even Audrey.

Standing, Percy walked down the aisle until he stood behind Audrey and tapped her on the shoulder. She was mending the hand of Dean Thomas, but she turned to look up at Percy with those big eyes. For the first time, Percy noticed how bruised and swollen her face was. Tapping her cheek with his wand, they faded away.

"What happened to you?" he asked.

"Fell off a tower."

Percy swept her into his arms, kissing her.

"Oi! Get a room!" Dean laughed.

Percy ignored him, instead looking down at Audrey with a small smile. "Better?"

"I have bruises in other places, too, if you want to heal those."

Laughing wasn't something he could do at the moment, but still the void in his chest didn't feel so empty. Gathering Audrey near, he tried very hard to stay in that moment. Not something he was good at, admittedly. Under normal circumstances, his mind had a tendency to race ahead to future possibilities and consequences, and at the moment, more than half his brain was with his family. Still, he wanted to be with Audrey in this quiet space, in case it was the last.

"I love you," he murmured into her ear.

She sighed, her arms tightening around him. "I love you, too, Gryffindor. I-I am so, so sorry about Fred. When this is over, you'll tell me everything."

Percy made a non-committal sound. Promising anything for the future seemed like dangerous business.

Almost as one, the people in the Great Hall turned to the entrance. From outside, there was crashing and jeering. Again, Percy glanced up at the ceiling to see the darkness thinning. This was it. Their hour reprieve was over. McGonagall marched from the dais, down the aisle between the dead and the injured, and through the entrance hall. The survivors followed.

From the front steps, illuminated by the torches, they could see Hagrid's large form tethered by ropes. Death Eaters spread out on either side of the half-giant. Before them was Voldemort himself, giant snake around his shoulders. Percy had never particularly liked snakes, now he thought maybe he hated them. Then he saw him. The body in Hagrid's huge arms. McGonagall let out an anguished shout.

"NO!"*

Notes:

*Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by JK Rowling, Chapter 36 The Flaw in the Plan page 730

Chapter 55

Notes:

Just one more after this.

"No!"*

"No!" *

"Harry! HARRY!" *

Ginny surged forward, Bill reached for her, but Dad grabbed her first and yanked her back into his arms. The defenders of Hogwarts continued to flow out of the front doors. Some cried out, others gasped. They all stood in stunned silence, eyes trained on that frail body in Hagrid's arms. There was a great, swirling blackness inside Bill's gut, sucking hope out of his body. He looked around for his family, clustered loosely together amongst the fighters. This was the last stand.

"OI!" shouted Seamus Finnegan, pushing through the crowds. "Go feck yerself and the snake ye rode in on, ye feckin' lizard."

A surge of yells and abuse was heaped on Voldemort. His triumphant smile fell into a snake-like sneer, his red eyes sweeping across the crowd. Apparently, this wasn't the welcome he was hoping for. Bill couldn't care less. It was likely he was going to die along with his entire family very soon, he felt reckless. There was just one regret: that Charlie wasn't here. In the last hour, Bill had known a pain and grief so deep his soul was shaking. What would it be like for Charlie? To lose his entire family, to be the last one. Bill didn't wish that on his brother.

Looking to his side where Fleur stood, he knew regret again. She didn't have to be here, but she was. Because of him. Fleur looked up at him, her features an unreadable mask. Reaching out, she took Bill's hand.

"SILENCE!" cried Voldemort, and there was a bang and a flash of bright light, and silence was forced upon them all. "It is over! Set him down, Hagrid, at my feet, where he belongs!"*

Harry looked so small lying in the grass. In the last weeks, Bill had come to think of him as a man, grown and strong enough to bear the burdens of the wizarding world. Now he looked like a boy. A brave boy who deserved better than the life of a martyr. Let that reptile weave his lies about Harry, no one standing on these steps had any doubt: Harry sacrificed himself so they could live. Foolish, but brave.

"He beat you!" yelled Ron, and the charm broke, and the defenders of Hogwarts were shouting and screaming.*

Something prickled at the base of Bill's skull. Before him, Ron and Hermione were speaking to each other rapidly. How had Ron broken the charm? Voldemort jabbed his wand at the defenders, stealing their voices again. He was raving about Harry again, but Bill ignored him. Something strange was happening here. That first charm hadn't worked the way it was supposed to, and Ron and Hermione…. They had another trick up their sleeve, Bill was sure of it. Tentatively, Bill knew a glimmer of hope.

oOo

Percy peered over the heads of those around him. At the base of the steps, he could see Professor McGonagall with her hands fisted at her sides, wand clutched in one. On either side of her was Neville Longbottom, his jaw working back and forth, and Professor Flitwick. Percy searched the crowd until he saw Oliver standing head and shoulders above the rest. He was with Katie, Angelina, and Alicia who were clutching each other. Audrey stood at Percy's side, but at that moment his eyes were drawn to George where he stood next to Mum.

Voldemort's silencing charm kept Percy from saying what he wanted, or maybe it was his own heart. He couldn't quite form the words to express to George how sorry he was, how he wished he could change it all. Maybe it didn't matter in that moment. After all, they could be joining Fred soon. Instead, Percy reached out and wrapped his hand around his brother's bicep. George looked up at Percy with bloodshot eyes, something like understanding passed between them.

The moment ended quickly.

Neville Longbottom threw off Professor McGonagall's restraining hands and charged Voldemort. The crowd could make no sound, but Percy could see people opening their mouths to shout. Voldemort hit Neville with a Disarming charm. The young Gryffindor tripped to the ground, his wand flying through the air to land in Voldemort's hand. He tossed it aside like yesterday's rubbish, and his followers laughed.

"And who is this?" he said in his soft snake's hiss. "Who has volunteered to demonstrate what happens to those who continue to fight when the battle is lost?" *

There was a cackle, delighted and demented. Percy's eyes slid to Bellatrix Lestrange, who he had never seen in person. She wiggled like a child eager to please her teacher as she offered Neville's name. The boy who gave the Carrows so much trouble. The Aurors' son. Longbottom was struggling to his feet, no longer the bumbling boy who forgot the password into the Gryffindor common room. This was a brave young man who stood in nobody's shadow.

"But you are a pureblood, aren't you, my brave boy?" Voldemort asked.*

Longbottom stood, alone, in the space between the castle and the Death Eaters. His spine straight, his shoulders squared in the half-light of pre-dawn. This young man stood between Hogwarts and disaster, and from the sounds of it, this was not new territory for him.

"So what if I am?" Neville said loudly.*

"You show spirit and bravery, and you come from noble stock. You will make a very valuable Death Eater. We need your kind, Neville Longbottom."*

"I'll join you when hell freezes over," said Neville. "Dumbledore's Army!"*

Voldemort's Silencing charm broke. All around Percy, the crowd roared their support for Neville, but Percy watched the face of the villain before him. This was the man of all his nightmares since he was a child, and now Voldemort's face took on a frightening mask, more terrible than Percy's worst dreams. The crowd drowned out Voldemort's words, but he raised his wand and something flew from the castle into his hand. Percy reached out, grabbing Audrey's hand, his heart beating too hard in his narrow chest.

The crowd fell silent once more, but not for being charmed. Voldemort pointed his wand at Neville, who went instantly rigid. Then he thrust something on Neville's head. The Sorting Hat. Percy could hardly make sense of this, looking at Bill for an answer. People all around pointing wands and moving forward, only to be stayed by the Death Eaters brandishing their wands in a sea of wood.

The Sorting Hat burst into flame. The defenders of Hogwarts screamed as one at the sight of their brave boy standing stock still, aflame. What happened next was a blur. A battle cry erupted from the distant wall, then a cavalry of new fighters was rushing down the slope. And at their head was Charlie Weasley.

Percy let out a loud whoop, a smile splitting his face.

A small giant rounded the corner of the castle, colliding with its larger counterparts in earth quaking battle. Galloping hooves heralded the arrival of centaurs with bows and arrows. Death Eaters, startled by the new arrivals, scattered in panic.

And then, everyone's eyes were drawn to a glint of silver. Neville Longbottom stood like a knight of old, sword in hand, and with one great slash, he severed the head of the snake, Nagini. The moment froze in time, just for an instant, then the battle sped into chaos once more.

"HARRY!" Hagrid shouted. "HARRY—WHERE'S HARRY?"*

Through the gray sky, Percy saw a flock of skeletal figures, black as midnight, swoop at a giant's head. He'd never seen anything like it, never dreamed of it. They were like a nightmare given life, and yet he didn't hold fear for the creatures. And then he knew. Thestrals, he could see thestrals. There was no time to dwell on that, for the giants were crashing through the grounds, sending wizards scattering. The defenders of Hogwarts were being forced back into the castle by the surge of battle. Percy turned, tried to reach for Audrey, but saw her in Fleur's arms as they were pushed aside.

"Percy!" Dad yelled, grabbing his son around the collar. "It's Thickness!"

oOo

Just inside Hogwarts' entrance, Audrey and Fleur backed into the corner, arms around each other, buffeted on all sides as fighters surged into the castle. Too much was happening to make sense of any of it. From one direction, a clutch of house-elves burst through a door, brandishing kitchen knives. Then three centaurs clattered in, dispersing the fighters before them in all directions.

"We have to go—" Audrey screamed.

A body hurled through the air, crashing into the wall above them. Both women sank to the floor, covering their heads. The small creature slid down the wall and crumpled onto the flagstone. The house-elf lie still near them. Fleur crawled to his side, then looked at Audrey and shook her head.

"He is dead," she shouted.

Springing to her feet, Audrey scooped up the tiny creature—it was no bigger than a child, like one of her nieces. She placed him behind the opened door, shutting his eyes with her hand, hoping he would be safe from the carnage all around.

Fleur grabbed Audrey's hand. "To zee platform. We must help Madam Pomfrey protect zee injured. Not all of zem were moved."

Clinging to each other's hands, Audrey and Fleur pushed their way through fighters from both sides. Duels had broken out everywhere. The Gryffindor Chasers had Scabior at their mercy. Audrey saw Adrian Pucey and Liam Williamson battling a pair of hump shouldered Death Eaters. Saw Oliver Wood fighting next to his own father, dueling Avery.

oOo

Dual Stunning spells struck Rabastan Lestrange from either side. The man crashed to the ground, revealing the grinning face of Charlie Weasley standing behind him. For a moment, Bill froze, a slow smile creeping onto his face as he stared at his wayward brother.

"About damn time," Bill said.

"I'd say my timing is impeccable," Charlie answered.

The two brothers clasped hands, but that moment ended quickly. Soon, they were fighting another set of Death Eaters. All the while Bill was aware that Voldemort was at the heart of the battle. He could hear the screams coming from the center of the Great Hall. Felling the man before him, Bill craned his neck to see Kingsley and Professors McGonagall and Slughorn fighting the monster. Bodies were strewn across the floor—wizard, house-elf, and centaur alike.

Then Bill saw something that made his heart seize in his chest. It was Ginny, along with Hermione and Luna, fighting Bellatrix Lestrange. It was three to one, and yet the demented witch hardly looked winded. In that moment, Bill knew one thing: he wasn't losing another sibling. Turning on his heel, he blasted Charlie's opponent off his feet.

"Charlie, look!"

They both turned to see a jet of green miss Ginny by an inch.

"Fucking hell!" Charlie yelled.

They moved as one, pushing through the crowd without consideration as to whether it was friend or foe in their way. From the corner of his eye, Bill saw Percy and Dad battling through the crowds in the same direction. Bill was nothing but heart and nerve, his need to get to Ginny the only real thing in his life. And then something happened that froze him in his tracks.

"NOT MY DAUGHTER, YOU BITCH!"*

There was Mum. Her red hair glinted under the light of the candles. Her face contorted with fury. She threw off her cloak as she ran. Bellatrix Lestrange turned, her feral face splitting into laughter at the sight before her. Across the hall, Bill was motionless, a Body-Bind could have been placed on him, but it hadn't been. It was horror that kept his boots planted on the flagstones. Charlie, Percy, Dad, none of them moved.

"OUT OF MY WAY!"*

Ginny, Luna, and Hermione cleared away, and then it began.

Spells of such ferocity sizzled between the two witches. Students tried to come to Mum's aid, but she wouldn't allow it. The battle was now just two duels. The one between Voldemort, Kingsley, McGonagall, and Slughorn. And the one between Bill's mum and the most evil witch of a generation. All eyes were glued to the two women as they exchanged curses so hot the ground beneath their feet cracked. From all around, Bill's brothers materialized. George leaned against Percy. Ron's wand trembled in his hand. Beside Bill, Charlie gripped his arm in a steel band. As one, the Weasley family held its breath.

Bill had never seen his mother like this before. This wasn't the woman who had baked hundreds of loaves of bread and knitted scores of jumpers. She was transformed. Hippolyta. Larger than life. A warrior. Fueled by grief and love and rage.

And then it happened.

"What will happen to your children when I've killed you?" Bellatrix taunted. "When Mummy's gone the same way as Freddie?"*

Bellatrix Lestrange had gone too far.

"You—will—never—touch—our—children—again!" *

Bellatrix laughed. It was her last. Mum's next curse hit her in the chest. For a moment, nothing happened as Bellatrix froze, then she toppled to the ground and the crowd roared, but the Weasleys collapsed into each other in relief.

oOo

A scream rent the air. High, terrible, full of ice and murder.

Fleur threw herself over her patient, immediately casting a shield. For a moment—or maybe it was hours—all Fleur knew was the rasping breath of the girl beneath her and the pounding of her own heart. That scream, Fleur had never heard anything like it. There was such rage, it stabbed at Fleur with vicious swipes, she trembled under its force, her shield thickening, glowing.

"Fleur!" Audrey yelled. She stood at the end of the dais where the head table had once been.

The Great Hall was silent. Fleur imagined all the combatants spread across the floor, dead, for surely that scream foretold a massacre. She glanced at Audrey, a thick lump in Fleur's throat. This fear, it could not win, it could not paralyze her. Closing her eyes, she took deep breaths. She thought of her Bill, of how brave he was. There was no fear, no sadness when she thought of her husband, and she knew. He was alive, he must be, she would know otherwise. And if Bill was alive, then not all was lost. Slowly, she stood, leaving the security of her protective bubble to join Audrey at the end of the dais. Before her, the fighters stood motionless, all eyes directed to one place. Fleur's breath caught.

There. In the middle of the Great Hall, with the enchanted ceiling showing pink at the edges of the pearly, pre-dawn sky, stood Harry Potter. How could this be? Harry Potter, her friend, the boy who saved her sister, he was dead. Fleur saw his body. She heard the grief in the half-giant's sobs. This could not be, yet that was no ghost. It was Harry Potter in the flesh. With wand in hand, he faced Voldemort.

Fear and hope surged through Fleur's veins in a confusing mix. The two circled each other. It seemed an endless dance as Harry held his opponent transfixed. Fleur could barely breathe. She could not take her eyes from the spectacle before her. Blindly, she reached out and grabbed Audrey's hand, feeling her friend squeeze it.

Fingers of pink reached across of the sky, but still the two circled each other. Harry Potter continued his stream of words that Fleur could not hear. His eyes locked on his opponent, his wand steady in his hand. He was a contrast to the manic energy of his opponent. At once, Voldemort was terrifying and vulnerable. That rage, it surged out of him in percussive waves. His wand hand shook with the need to do violence, his red eyes slits of malevolence. Terror stole up Fleur's chest to see such fury.

A red-gold glow burst suddenly across the enchanted sky above them.* Bright light blinded Fleur. She grabbed Audrey, pulling the shorter girl into her arms. That shrieking voice, Harry's shout. Fleur's arms tightened around Audrey.

Boom!

The collision of the two spells exploded. The ground shook under the reverberation. Fleur and Audrey stumbled, barely able to keep their feet. A collective gasp ghosted around the Great Hall. Fleur's head whipped away, eyes snapped shut. Yet she could still see spots of red burst behind her black eyelids. For a moment, she and Audrey grasped each other tightly, trembling so that Fleur could not tell where hers ended and Audrey's began. Finally, silence swallowed the hall for one awful instant.

"Is it Harry Potter?" Audrey breathed, her arms tight around Fleur's ribs.

Forcing her eyes open, Fleur looked over Audrey's head.

There, on the floor, the madman lay dead at the feet of Harry Potter. After the terrible fighting of this night, it came down to two men, two spells, and it was over. Dust mites floated in the golden beams of sunlight streaming in through the broken and glassless windows. The sky arced, blue and cloudless, across the spell-damaged ceiling. Dawn had come at last, the night was over. Cheers and screams rang out. Fleur realized, as her lungs burned inside her chest, that she could breathe.

"Oui," Fleur whispered.

Laughing, tears leaking from her eyes, she buried her head in Audrey's shoulder. They had won. They had survived the night. Audrey shook against Fleur, and she knew that her friend was crying as well.

"I have to find Percy," Audrey said as she pulled away. Dirty hands wiped at her cheeks, leaving dark streaks. "I have to tell him…."

She sat on the edge of the dais, then slid to the floor.

"Tell him what?" Fleur called.

"I don't know. Everything! I'm going to have that man's babies."

Fleur covered her mouth as laughter bubbled out. She watched her friend disappear into the chaos. From the squeaks of the house-elves to the stamping of the centaurs, the Great Hall extolled the victory. Smiles broke across grimy faces. Girls hugged and sobbed. Neville Longbottom let the great, ruby sword drop to his side, swept up in the arms of those around him. Dean Thomas grabbed a girl with a long black plait, bent her over his arm, and kissed her. Kingsley was helping Professor McGonagall to her feet, and the two looked around in astonishment.

They had won.

As blood pumped again through her body, Fleur was gripped with the same raucous emotion. They had won. They had won! It was a chorus in her heart, growing louder and surer. At long last, they had won. There was still much to do, Fleur knew this. There was grief and loss to reckon with, but not in this moment. They were radiant.

Fleur craned her neck, looking for a particular ginger ponytail in the crowd. Many had fallen in this last bit of fighting, but not her Bill. She would know. And then she saw him. Walking towards her out of the crowd, smile on his face. Emotion swelled inside of Fleur, her smile wide and radiant as the sun. She jumped down, running until her arms were around him, her Bill. They kissed and kissed. The rest of the world fell away, and it was just the two of them. The feel of Bill's body against hers, the strength of his embrace, and ardor of his kiss. This was victory.

"We won," Fleur murmured.

Notes:

*Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by JK Rowling, Chapter 36 The Flaw In the Plan page 730

*Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by JK Rowling, Chapter 36 The Flaw In the Plan page 730

*Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by JK Rowling, Chapter 36 The Flaw In the Plan page 731

*Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by JK Rowling, Chapter 36 The Flaw In the Plan page 733

*Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by JK Rowling, Chapter 36 The Flaw In the Plan page 736

*Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by JK Rowling, Chapter 36 The Flaw In the Plan page 736

*Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by JK Rowling, Chapter 36 The Flaw In the Plan page 743

Chapter 56: Epilogue

Notes:

This is our final chapter. Thank you all for reading

Special thanks, again, to me beta BurgundyHope.

Twenty-Three Years Later

 

"Witches and wizards, if I could have your attention please!"

Strings swelled behind George Weasley, dressed in his best robes, but the chatter under the marquee continued unabated. Blue, silver, and white balloons gathered over the linen draped tables, champagne shimmering gold in delicate flutes. Blue ribbons adorned every surface, white flowers sprouted from every cornice. Witches and wizards in the finest robes chatted and ate and made merry. But events like this had schedules, and the timeline called for dancing.

George, the designated emcee for all Weasley events, pressed his wand to his throat and roared, "OI!"

The violins screeched, the voices died away. In a far corner, arms crossed over his chest, Bill laughed. The weather hadn't cooperated. Rain fell all day long, forcing the ceremony inside Shell Cottage. The bride and groom stood before the hearth in the sitting room, bridesmaids and groomsmen squashed in beside them, and only family present. Granted, in a family this size, that meant standing room only, and their numbers still spread from the sitting room to the kitchen and up the stairs. It hadn't mattered. The bride cried, her mother cried, her sister rolled her eyes, and the deed was done.

"Witches and wizards," George said again. "I give you the new Mr. and Mrs. Edward Remus Lupin!"

There was applause as all eyes turned to the beautiful young couple. Teddy, his hair blue for the day, led Victoire onto the dance floor as the first strains of a love song played. They spun around in one another's arms, eyes only for each other. She was beautiful, of course, she looked like her mother.

"I admire how well you're taking this," Percy said. He handed Bill a new champagne flute. "I only saw one tear as you gave her away."

"That was Fleur," Bill replied, sipping from his glass.

"Sure it was," Percy agreed, ever discreet.

He was as bald as Dad now, and the father of two daughters of his own. The eldest, Molly, sat with Dominique and Roxy at one table, probably hatching schemes for a quick escape from all the grownups. Little Lucy, who wasn't so little anymore, sat next to Audrey with a book opened in her lap.

"It'll be your turn one day," Bill said, nudging his brother in the ribs. "I'd like to see you do as well."

Percy pushed his glasses up. "I'm afraid I'll be a complete mess when the time comes, but with any luck I won't have to worry about that anytime soon."

"Daughters grow up fast, Perce."

"Too fast."

Audrey turned in her chair, looking around until her eyes landed on Percy. Crooking her finger, a devilish grin on her face, before turning back to the dance floor. Beside Bill, Percy turned red from his collar to the top of his head. Bill thanked the gods that he hadn't lost his hair.

"That's me," Percy muttered. He flashed a dopey grin, then loped off.

The groom twirled his bride around the parquet as a shower of gold stars fell over them. Romance was in the air. At the head table, Ginny was whispering in Harry's ear. Mum and Dad were holding hands at the side of the dance floor chatting with Andromeda Tonks, resplendent in silvery blue. In the back of the room, Angelina sat in George's lap, laughing.

It was a beautiful day, but not as beautiful as the woman walking towards Bill. She wore silver, her hair pulled back in elf-made combs, a slight glow emanating from her very heart. Just as beautiful as the day they married.

"Your son is snogging his girlfriend behind zee bandstand," Fleur reported.

Bill smirked. "He's a chip off the old block."

"Hmph." She leaned against him, and he put his arm around her shoulders, feeling the same thrill he did the first time he held her. "Zey are beautiful, non?"

"She is," Bill murmured, taking a moment to look at their eldest daughter. She was smiling hugely, radiant in her happiness, just as Fleur had been on their wedding day all those years ago. Fleur hadn't aged a day as far as Bill could tell, but maybe he was biased. He, on the other hand, had rather liberally streaked gray hair and the old scars were as livid as ever.

Taking Fleur's hand, Bill pulled her outside of the tent. He cast a quick Impervious charm to keep the rain from soaking them, then pulled Fleur against him. Beyond, their home glowed on the darkened cliffside, below the waves crashed against the beach. Somewhere, behind the clouds, stars twinkled in eternity. And in his arms, Fleur gazed up at him, tiny lines by her eyes from laughing so much over the last few decades.

Bill leaned down and kissed his wife. "I realize," he said after a moment, "that I'm old as dirt, but how are you possibly the mother of the bride?"

"Well, I was a very young bride, n'est-ce pas. Alas, too young. Zis old lecher, he stole me from zee cradle."

"Villain!" One corner of Bill's mouth quirked up. "Did we ever finish our first dance?"

Fleur brushed a hand through his hair, her eyes soft as she gazed up at him. "Oh, mon Bill, we shall never finish our first dance."

Inside the tent, the music swelled to a finish, and there was a smattering of applause before a new song began. Outside, Bill and Fleur's dance continued. There were moments when it still felt like they were the only two people in the world, but that had never been true. There were friends and family and even enemies along the way. Beyond the long war, the grief and illness, there was so much more. Anniversaries, weddings, children, birthdays, and above all, happiness.

"Papa," Dominique called, lifting the flap of the tent and peering out. "There you are! I swear, you two! It's time for the father-daughter dance."

"You're doing a splendid job as maid of honor," Bill told his second daughter.

"And you're falling down on yours. Chop, chop!"

"I'm afraid this dance is saved for another beautiful woman," Bill said to Fleur.

"Disgusting!" Dom said.

Fleur laughed. "Save the next one for me."

"Always."

The End.

Notes:

*Quoted from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Chapter 11 "The Bribe", page 209