Work Text:
August 1997
Today was the first day of the rest of Bill’s life. Everything was ready; the marquee was up, the tables were set, the band was rehearsing, the first guests were starting to arrive.
The only thing that wasn’t quite ready was Bill himself.
It was not that he didn’t want to marry Fleur. He wanted to marry her more than he had ever wanted anything else in this world. The only thing he wanted more than that was for her to be happy. And that was the problem.
Looking back, the seed of doubt had been planted months ago, after Bill’s run-in with Fenrir Greyback. Though Fleur had insisted that she did not find him any less handsome with his scarred face, deep down, Bill feared that the loss of his looks bothered her more than she cared to admit. It did him, after all.
That loss combined with those of Dumbledore and Mad-Eye had only served to allow the seed to take root. The country was at war, and if even their wisest leaders and strongest warriors were not immune to death, who was? The threat of Voldemort and his followers loomed ever closer by the day, and as much as Bill wanted to keep his fiancée safe, he was growing ever conscious of the fact that he couldn’t.
The day before, Fleur’s family had come from France, ready for the wedding. Their arrival had allowed Bill’s concerns to finally reach the surface. The way her face had lit up at the sight of them, the excitement in her voice as she spoke to them in a language he still didn’t understand, the smile that had been more carefree than he had seen it in months, those things had kept him awake all night.
Perhaps he was doing Fleur a disservice by marrying her. And with less than an hour to go before she vowed to spend the rest of her life at his side, the opportunity to let her back out was getting smaller and smaller.
While no one was looking his way, Bill left the marquee and set off across the garden towards the house in which he had grown up, where Fleur was now getting ready with their mothers and their sisters. For the first time in his life, the Burrow was overrun with women. He knocked gently on the door of his childhood bedroom, hoping that he would alert no one but Fleur herself to his presence in the house.
“Yes? ‘Oo is zere?” Fleur’s voice called out from the other side of the door.
“It’s me. Can I come in for a minute?”
“No,” Fleur replied simply. “It is bad luck for ze groom to see ze bride.”
“What if I close my eyes?” asked Bill. Fleur seemed to consider this for a moment.
“Okay. But no picking.”
“I won’t peek, I promise.”
Bill closed his eyes as the door started to open. He felt Fleur’s hand in his, and he let her lead him across the room and push him down to sit on what felt like his own bed. The room smelt like perfume, soft and powdery and floral. It smelt like her. He swallowed.
“Fleur.”
“Bill.”
The stern tone of Fleur’s voice had an undertone that was almost resigned. Had a part of her been expecting this? Had she been afraid that Bill would come here for this reason? Had she hoped? Bill wasn’t sure which was worse.
“Are you sure you want to go through with this?” he asked her. He hadn’t even finished asking the question before Fleur answered:
“Yes.”
“But—”
“We ‘ave been planning zis wedding for months. Of course I want to do zis,” Fleur told him. She fell quiet for a few moments. “Do you not?”
The uncertainty of her question almost broke Bill’s heart.
“Of course I do.”
“So, why are you ‘ere?”
“Because,” Bill began, “you’re so young. You’re too young to be a widow, and you’re too young to risk your life in a war that isn’t yours to fight. Because you have a family who loves you and wants you home and safe, and because I love you and I want you to be safe. Because I love you so much that I didn’t want to wait to spend the rest of my life with you, and I didn’t stop to think about how short or dangerous that life might be for either of us. Because…” His voice tailed off, and he had to take a deep breath. “Because I wanted to give you the chance to turn back and go home now before it’s too late.”
The silence that followed his words seemed to last an age. Just as Bill was about to open his eyes to check that she was still in the room, he felt the mattress shift behind him, and something brush against his back.
“Per’aps you are right,” he heard Fleur murmur. “Per’aps we did rush. But zat is because life is short and dangerous, no? And yes, I am young, but I am not so young as I was when we first met. I am not so young as when you asked me if I would like to marry you. I am not so young to not know what I want. And I want zis .”
Her hand was in his. Bill could feel the metal and stone of her engagement ring pressing against his fingers, cold and solid in contrast to the gentle warmth of her palm.
“I want to marry you and spend ze rest of my life with you,” she continued. “I do not care if zat life lasts seventy years or seven days, as long as I spend zis time as your wife.”
She sounded so assured that Bill’s doubts almost disappeared entirely. Almost, but not quite.
“And what if you end up spending your life as my widow?”
“Of course, I do not want zis,” said Fleur, “but I also do not want your mother to ‘ave been right about us, so I suppose zat I will ‘ave to be ze proudest widow in ze world.”
Bill felt her shrug against him, and a laugh escaped his lips.
“Godric, I love you,” he told her.
“And I love you. So, if you are ‘appy, I am going to take you back to ze door, and you will leave me here to get ready, and zen we will get married in ze garden.”
Bill was happy. In that moment, he was the happiest man in the world. If he and Fleur could continue to share that happiness even for a day, then that would be enough for him. He nodded, and allowed her to lead him to the door, where she planted a kiss on his lips and let go of his hand.
“You can open your eyes again, but no turning around,” she instructed. “I zink zat we could do without bad luck today.”
Bill opened his eyes and fought the urge to turn back and look, to catch even the smallest glimpse of her. With a bit of luck, they would soon be married, and he would be able to look at her for the rest of his life.