Fleur grabbed a sweater from the hook next to the door and slipped out into the night. The scent of the sea was present even in the house, but outside, it was nearly overpowering. To Fleur, it was freedom, and she filled her lungs with it as she began to walk. There was rarely any true darkness here; the moon hung over the water, reflecting back and everywhere, multiplying itself again and again so that the world at Shell Cottage shimmered under its milky glow.

Tonks has had a baby.

The words were strange, even in her head, and the picture they created was even stranger: Tonks, with that wild hair of hers, sitting in a white bed with fluffed pillows behind her, a baby boy sleeping in her arms. She imagined his tiny fist clutching one of his mum’s fingers.

The ground changed under her feet as she walked… grass to sand and sand to rock, as she made her way up to an outcropping of rocky ground that she and Bill had discovered not long after moving there. When she reached the spot, she turned to the ocean, taking another deep breath of salty air before settling herself on the ground.

Remus had been so excited when he brought the news earlier, and they had all shared in the celebration. She had squealed and poured the wine and felt the joy of this man seeping into her and into her home�”a place that had become so full of tension and worry these past weeks. The news of a baby born in the night, in the midst of this war and the danger it carried... there was something strong in it. Fleur could not remember the last time she had slept soundly, and every one of them was in danger all the time. And yet, here was a man bursting with joy because his wife had given birth to a son. It was life, and love, and it lightened everyone’s burden for a while.

But then Remus had gone, taking his unrestrained happiness with him. Not an hour later, she’d interrupted Bill and Harry in the kitchen, speaking privately in urgent, hushed tones. She’d stepped out of the room and leaned back against the wall, imagining twenty different frightening, dangerous things that they might be discussing.

Reality had returned, bringing with it the things it brings.

Without consciously deciding, Fleur had abandoned the tray of glasses and any other responsibility she may have felt toward her guests. She’d moved quickly, not stopping until she reached the door�”the way out of this place where secrets lurked behind closed doors and dangerous plans were being hatched at any hour of the day. She’d gone outside, looking for something like space or air, or more aptly, the emotional equivalent.

Perched high above the sea, she had found the air but not the relief she’d hoped it would bring. Everything was so different now. Many days, she felt completely disconnected from the person she had started out to be, the one who had always been so confident and determined about everything in life. She didn’t know that girl anymore, and hadn’t for a long time.

Her eyes followed the bulge of the moon down, down to the surface of the sea, black and inky in the darkness. The water swirled below, and Fleur saw in her memory the foggy gray water of the Black Lake, its green weeds growing high from the mud, and the sparkling stones that shimmered from the depths far below her feet. For one second, it had been an eerie, beautiful sight. And then tendrils and fists had got hold of her legs, pulling her down, causing fear to rise so quickly into her throat that she couldn’t think at all. She had barely passed the beginning of the task, only escaping after catching them with a blasting curse that enabled her to kick hard for the surface.

It was funny that she should be thinking of the tournament at a time like this, but any serious self-reflection always led her right to Hogwarts. She’d changed in those months; she’d emerged from the maze quite different indeed from the girl whose name had come out of the Goblet of Fire. Her self-confidence used to be unwavering. So many things had come easily for her, including school work and her magical training. When the opportunity had come for someone to participate in the Triwizard Tournament, she hadn’t had to think about it at all before putting her name in the Goblet and stepping back to gaze at its glory. She’d been chosen, exactly as she had expected.

But very soon after that, things had changed.

She was lying in bed on top of the covers thinking about various scenarios that she might have to face in the first task, reviewing unusual spells that would be helpful to have on hand and analyzing her own strengths. She looked up when she heard a short knock followed by the swish of the door opening. Madame Maxime stepped inside but hesitated, keeping her hand on the doorknob as if for support.

“’ello,” said Fleur.

The older woman managed a feeble smile, then sat down on the edge of Fleur’s bed. She screwed her face up in an attempt at optimism, but Fleur knew she was worried about something. Then she covered Fleur’s hand with her own and uttered the two words that changed everything: “Dragons, cherie.”

Dragons.

That night under the blankets, in the dark of her room, a seed of doubt�”planted by visions of fire-breathing monsters�”stirred inside her. Perhaps it was new, the result of hearing the details of the first task; perhaps it had been there all along, sleeping, waiting for a situation with edges sharp enough to warrant its rising. She was not sure. She only knew that she’d never felt this way before… bound already, and the game not yet begun.

Fleur glanced back toward the cottage: golden light spilled out of the windows and onto the ground, rolling into the grass where a stone marker proclaimed the freedom of a dead elf. It was life, and death… warmth, and cold. And yet somehow, it was all true. This was why�”in spite of the good news they’d had tonight�”her heart could not fully catch hold of it. The weight of uncertainty was too great, too debilitating. What evil lurked outside the magical perimeter of their property at this very moment? Who would die next? Bill? Herself? As happy a thought as it was to imagine a Tonks with a baby in her arms, Fleur felt naïve and selfish for dreaming that dream for herself and Bill in the current climate. Normal things like having children seemed out of reach to them now that they were harboring fugitives and unable to even go to work.

She flinched at the sound of twigs snapping, and looked up to see her husband. She let out a nervous breath.

“Thought I might find you up here.”

She smiled a tired smile, but said nothing.

Bill sat down next to her on the ground, stretching his legs out in front of him and leaning back on his arms. They were touching from thighs to shoulders. “You are worried about something.”

This was an understatement indeed, but she tried to think of a single worry. “I fear zey are putting zeir trust in ze goblin. We both know zat is dangerous.”

Something passed over his expression: surprise, followed by respect.

“What?” she asked.

He laughed and shook his head. “That’s why I was speaking to Harry, to warn him about trusting goblins.”

“Why is zat funny?”

“It’s just… I underestimated you again, love. I didn’t want you to hear me talking with Harry. I thought I was protecting you.”

Fleur arched an eyebrow and gave him a disapproving look. “Foolish Gryffindor pride. You theenk no one else ees as brave as you are.”

He smiled, acknowledging her point.

She turned her attention to the sea; she watched the waves, and he watched her.

“What’s wrong?” he finally asked.

She sighed, avoiding his eyes. “I am fine. I just needed some air.”

He didn’t say anything for several minutes, so she thought he was going to drop it. But then he said, “Please tell me, Fleur,” in such a pleading voice that her head whipped around to face him with a worried, questioning expression. Seemingly reassured, he went on. “I’m sorry I told you not to come in--”

“I don’t care about zat, cheri.” She leaned back the way he was doing, her arm behind him so her head was almost resting on his shoulder. “I am just tired… and worrying too much about every-zing.”

“About what?”

“Do you theenk zey will leave soon?”

His face screwed up with worry, and she wished she’d not brought it up.

“I feel it, yeah.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Every time I find myself alone with Ron, I think he is going to tell me it’s happening tomorrow. Or worse, that they just won’t come down some morning, and then we’ll know.”

“Zey ‘ave made it zis far. Zey are brave Gryffindors, non?” she teased, winning a smile for her effort. She must have sounded more certain than she really felt.

“You joke about Gryffindor, but if you’d gone to Hogwarts, you probably would have been one yourself.”

Fleur cared nothing for Hogwarts’ houses, but she knew he did. This was high praise indeed. She was about to tease him, to accuse him of flattery, but then she saw his eyes: deadly serious and watery.

When he spoke, his voice was a whisper. “You’re brave, Fleur, and you don’t even know it.” His hands were on her face then, stroking her hair.

She melted into him, turning so she could return his embrace.

“Should we have gone to France? Are you lonely?”

Tears sprang to her eyes at the thought of France, of her family, her sister. “Non,” she assured him, meaning it. “Zis is 'ard, 'arder than I imagined, but zis is our 'ome now.”

“I’m sorry the house is so full.”

“I’m glad zey are 'ere… Well, except ze goblin.”

Bill chuckled at this and kissed her.

He was beautiful in the moonlight, belying the angry marks that slashed their way across his features. She didn’t notice them anymore. They were simply part of him, of his beauty and his mystery. She wrapped her arms around his neck, holding his mouth to hers as he deepened their kisses. She twisted to lie back, pulling him with her, immediately responding to the weight of his body on hers. He was everything and everywhere, and it no longer mattered if anything was certain or not. She didn’t care about graves or danger or promises, except for the promise they had made to each other so many months ago at The Burrow, the one she was living and loving in this very minute in the grass above their cottage. And as they began to move together, she released every uncertainty, every doubt, and clung only to Bill, who was everything she could know for sure. The two of them, together… this she could count on. This was enough.