“You’re going to be a mummy,” he whispered to her upturned face.
“And you are going to be a papa,” she declared as she stood on tiptoes and pressed her lips to his cheek.
His unscarred cheek.
The cheek that had not been clawed by Greyback.
Bill Weasley knew that Fleur did not mean a thing by it. She would kiss whichever cheek was nearest. At night, she’d kiss every inch of him, and gently caress with feather light fingertips the scars that emanated from his face and all down his back. Fleur loved him “ passionately. She always had. Pulling away from her slightly, his hand slipped to her stomach and he bent down.
“Hello, baby Weasley. This is your daddy. I can’t wait to meet you. You’re going to make us both very happy even though your maman will probably moan about getting fat.” He ducked away, laughing as Fleur whacked him playfully on the head.
“Your papa,” Fleur interrupted as she pulled them both to the ground and placed her own hand on top of Bill’s, “knows that I ‘ave to be totally spoilt for ze next few months. I cannot be upset in any way, and ...” She grinned mischievously. “’E has to tell me ‘e loves me every minute of ze day.”
Putting his arm around her, and drawing her in close, Bill said “ mock indignantly, “I do that anyway, don’t I?”
“Oui,” she replied. “You are ze perfect ‘usband, mon chere.”
“Je t’aime,” he whispered in her ear as he pushed her back onto the grass. Bill lifted a hand and smoothed away a strand of her silky blonde hair that had fallen across her face. Her lips parted as he bent his head down towards her. “This won’t hurt the baby, will it?”
She shook her head. “Baby Weasley is tiny, Bill. Smaller zan an acorn. Let’s make ze most of ze time we ‘ave left alone.”
All doubts gone, Bill began to kiss her again as she ran her hands down his back.
Most people thought Fleur vain. Bill knew that his mother and sister had disliked her at first, but after the attack, they had accepted Fleur into the family with real warmth and love. The Fleur he knew and loved was not vain. She was beautiful, and she was proud of that, because beauty was part of her Veela heritage, but she didn’t spend forever preening herself. These days she was happy enough curled up beside him in comfortable clothes whilst he got on with paperwork from Gringotts.
“Sorry,” he yawned one night. “I really shouldn’t bring work home with me. But it’s either that, or I stay later.”
“Zat is okay,” she replied. “I like ‘aving you ‘ome before I go to bed.”
“How have you been today?” he asked as his eyes scanned through an accounts ledger.
Fleur smiled softly. “A bit better. Molly made me some ...” She paused as she tried to think of the word. “Gingembre ... er ... ginger tea. It ‘elped.”
“Good,” Bill replied with genuine concern. “You’re supposed to be getting fatter, darling, not losing weight.”
Fleur snorted. “Don’t worry. I’m sure in a few months time I’ll be as big as an ‘ouse.” She lowered her voice.” You won’t want to look at me. I’ll be ‘ideous.”
It was Bill’s turn to laugh. “Hideous? You? Never!” he declared. Then he took a closer look at her face. Fleur did seem anxious about something. This was not at all like her, but pregnancy had certainly made her more in need of reassurance. “Fleur, you’ll always be beautiful. You’ll always be that seventeen-year-old girl I saw for the first time at Hogwarts.”
“Love at first sight?” she asked mockingly.
He grinned lopsidedly. “Not exactly. Lust, more like. But you know that.” He put down his quill and papers. “In fact, why don’t we ...” His voice trailed off as he left the question hanging in the air.
Fleur pulled a face. “Sorry,” she whispered apologetically. “I’m still feeling a bit malade.” Her hand gently stroked his face. “You don’t mind, do you?”
Bill sighed to himself. They were no longer newly-weds. They were no longer just the two of them. Baby Weasley, although barely bigger than its daddy’s little finger, was irrevocably altering their lives. He dropped a soft kiss onto her lips. “I don’t mind. But if you’re tired, then why don’t you go to bed and I’ll bring you up some hot milk?”
“Urghh!” she groaned. “Not milk. But Molly also left some camomile tea. Zat would be lovely.” Fleur sat up, stretched and then wandered out of the room. Bill listened to her light footsteps as she slowly climbed the stairs. She would probably be asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow, but he’d make her the tea anyway.
“Bill,” Fleur implored. “Stop wiz all zis fussing. I will be fine!”
“I just don’t think travelling by Floo is the safest way for us to get to The Burrow, not in your condition.” He took her hand. “We’ll stay here.”
She tossed her hair over her shoulders. “Well, I’m not going to Apparate. Zat still makes me feel queasy. And zere is no way you’re getting me on a broomstick, Bill Weasley.” She paused, but before Bill could argue, she fixed him with a steely gaze. “I am seven months pregnant. Ze risk from ze Floo is minimal. And I do not intend staying ‘ere, when zere is a party at ze Burrow. Besides, ‘Arry is bringing leetle Teddy, and I know you want to see ‘im again.”
He smiled at her and took down the jar of Floo powder from the mantelpiece. “Come on then, my flower of the court.” He laughed as she scowled at the anglicized version of her name, but then she reached out her hand for some Floo powder and stepped into the fire.
Concentrating with all her might on the correct pronunciation (because once after saying ‘ze’ instead of ‘the’ Fleur had ended up two grates away), she said fiercely, “THE Burrow!” and disappeared in a flurry of green flames and dust.
Bill grabbed a handful of powder and threw it on the fire. He couldn’t wait to see Remus’ boy again, who’d been away travelling with his grandmother for months. “The Burrow!” he shouted as the flames enveloped him.
As Bill stepped out of the fire, he saw Fleur being fussed over by his mum. From her, Fleur was accepting, grateful even for the attention, but from Bill she often got irritated. So he’d reined in his protective instincts over the past few months and watched in fascination at his wife’s changing shape. After those difficult first weeks when she’d wept with the never ending sickness and exhaustion, Fleur had blossomed as the baby had grown. For Bill, this woman was as alluring as the girl he’d met all those years ago, and he relished this golden time with her. He nodded to her, and she flashed him a reassuring smile, so he didn’t rush across to her as he might have done before. Instead, Bill looked around the room.
“Where’s that Teddy Lupin?” he said mock-fiercely. “I haven’t seen the little scamp for months.”
There was a gurgle of laughter coming from the direction of the armchair in the corner. Ginny started laughing as Harry said, “Teddy Lupin? Oh, there’s no one of that name here, Bill.”
“Not even a Teddy Lupin who likes ...” Bill paused and with a wicked grin produced something from his pocket, “...Chocolate Frogs.”
He heard more giggling from behind the chair, but still Teddy didn’t appear. Bill got down on his hands and knees and crawled across the carpet. “Come out, come out, wherever you are,” he called. Bill approached the chair stealthily. He was so close now that he could hear Teddy’s breathing and quiet giggles. As quick as a flash, Bill grabbed Teddy and held him high in air. The two-year-old boy shrieked with delight as Bill tickled him and then their eyes locked.
Teddy screamed.
Unnerved, Bill almost dropped him, but regaining his composure he gently set Teddy down next to Ginny and then, muttering something about needing a beer, he sidled out to the kitchen.
Ron and George were there, swigging out of bottles their feet up on the kitchen table. Bill plastered a smile on his face and sat down with them, swapping stories, telling jokes, enjoying the company of his brothers. At one point Fleur appeared in the doorway looking concerned, but he raised his hand reassuringly and smiled so she wafted away to be with the other women in the lounge.
Percy joined his brothers and began telling a complicated story about work. George, Bill could tell, was trying desperately not to yawn, but as Percy droned on, Bill felt his attention starting to wander.
Teddy was scared of him. The boy he’d last seen six months ago who had always loved spending time with his ‘Uncle Bill’ had looked into Bill’s face and screamed with terror. Glancing around the kitchen, Bill caught sight of his reflection in the kettle and shivered. He couldn’t blame Teddy.
“Bill,” Fleur called from the bedroom. “Are you coming up?”
“Mmm, in a minute,” he replied. “I just want to finish this last ledger.”
He heard the bed creak as she tried to make herself comfortable. At eight and a half months, Fleur was finding her back ached more and more. She was desperate for this to be over with, and her temper was becoming shorter by the hour. He knew he should go up and be with her. He could soothe her, rub her back and cajole her out of the despondency that the latter stages of pregnancy had invoked, but instead Bill poured himself a measure of Firewhisky and stared at the fire.
“Merlin, Charlie, where the hell are you when I need to talk?” He rubbed at his eyes and drained the glass. His hand reached across to the bottle, but something stopped him. He couldn’t get drunk in case Fleur went into labour. Whatever his fears, he had to be there for her. Taking a deep breath, Bill walked out of the room to join his wife.
“Sorry, did I wake you?” he whispered as he climbed in beside her.
“Non,” she replied, sighing. “I cannot sleep. I sink I am too big and fat to ever be comfortable again.”
“You’re not fat,” he reassured her as he slid his hands around her. “You’re keeping our baby warm.”
She laughed, a throaty chuckle, and half-turned her face to his, kissing him gently on his cheek.
His scarred cheek.
“I love you,” she murmured faintly, her eyes closing.
“Love you, too,” he whispered and dropped a soft kiss on her shoulder. Soon Fleur was sleeping, but Bill lay awake, his arms wrapped around her, feeling their child kick against his embrace.
Three days after the baby’s due date, Bill was reluctant to leave for work and had to be pushed into the fire by Fleur.
“Zis baby is never coming!” she declared. “You might as well go into work. Molly is coming over later and she will look after me.”
He kissed her soundly on the lips and, after assuring her he’d be back as soon as she called, he vanished.
With an in tray that was overflowing, Bill settled down to a long day. Working steadily through the morning with barely time for coffee, he didn’t hear his visitors when they walked through the door.
“BOO!” shouted a voice from the other side of his desk.
Bill jumped from his chair and stared at two grinning faces. Instinctively, he turned sideways showing only the unmarked side of his face.
“Mum!” he exclaimed in surprise. “What are you doing here? And why is Teddy with you?”His face fell. “Oh Merlin, is it Fleur? Is the baby coming?”
“Calm down,” Molly replied. “Fleur’s fine; she’s taking a nap. I think Teddy wore her out.”
Molly pulled up a chair and sat Teddy on her knee. He gazed excitedly around the room, his eyes darting from the pictures of Bill on the wall in his curse-breaking days, to the very real Bill sitting at the desk.
“Unca Bill!” he declared, pointing at the picture and then at Bill.
“Yeah, that’s right, scamp,” Bill said, smiling wryly. He glanced at his mum, still not turning fully to face her. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Andromeda is sick and Harry’s busy, so I said I’d look after this little one,” Molly replied, adding in a whisper. “He thinks his Unca Bill will have some Chocolate Frogs for him.”
There must have been something in Bill’s expression, or perhaps it was the fact that he still kept the scarred side of his face out of sight, because Molly stopped talking. She lifted Teddy off her knee and set him on the ground with a toy wand that Bill recognised as one of George’s latest products. Teddy laughed loudly and set off around the office casting imaginary spells. Then Molly leant forwards and squeezed Bill’s hand.
“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Bill snapped, then took a breath. He smiled. “Everything is great, Mum. I’m going to be a dad. What could possibly be wrong?”
Molly pursed her lips. “William Arthur Weasley, one thing you’ll learn when you become a father, is that you’ll always know when your child isn’t telling the truth.” She tousled his hair. “Fleur is worried about you.”
“Mum,” he sighed. “I’m ...” He wanted to say fine, but under his mother’s intense stare, he knew he couldn’t lie. “What if my kid’s scared of me?”
Molly snorted. “All children are scared of their parents.” She smirked at him. “Especially their mothers. How do you think I kept you lot in line? Although, it didn’t quite work with the twins ... or that sister of yours. And I never did get you to cut your-”
“Mum!” he interrupted fiercely. “That’s not what I mean. What if my kid “ my baby “ is scared of me because of how I look? You saw Teddy at the party. He was terrified.”
“Yes,” Molly agreed. “He was, for a while, but look at him now.”
She pointed to Teddy who was still scampering around on the floor, now screeching, “Spellimus!” at the goblin pictures on the wall. Aware of their scrutiny, Teddy ran forwards and launched himself at Bill. “Chocit Fwogs!” he demanded.
As Bill fished in his drawer for the sweets, Teddy climbed on his lap. Bill turned to face him, and waited for the boy to flinch. But Teddy didn’t. Instead, he screwed up his face, and turned his hair a brilliant shade of red. Long, lustrous hair to his shoulders, hair just like Bill’s.
“Oh sweet Merlin. Next he’ll be wanting a dragon fang in his ear,” complained Molly, but she sounded indulgent. “Now, does that look like a little boy who’s scared?”
“No,” replied Bill wistfully, “but he’s not my child.”
“Your child, Bill, will grow up with you. You’ll probably be the first person she sees, and she’s going to love you ... no matter what. And you’ll love her.”
“She?” Bill questioned.
Molly stood up. “Come on, Teddy. I think we’ve badgered Uncle Bill for far too long.” She waited while Teddy finished his frog and smeared his chocolaty hand all over Bill’s clothes as he climbed down.
“You said she,” Bill repeated.
Molly smiled. “That had better be a granddaughter you’re having, Bill, or you will be very scared of me!”
He laughed as she walked towards the door and then yelled as an owl “ his owl “ flew through the window.
‘Come home,’ said the message. ’Our baby is on the way.’