Bill Weasley was currently standing beside his soon-to-be-wife a tad bit impatiently. He had better things to do than to go cake shopping of all things. Fleur was taking an impossibly long time deciding what cake they should have for their wedding. She wanted “a white cake, five layers, wiz elegant swirls and rosettes and pale gold icing to match ze bridesmaids’ dress robes”, even though she knew how difficult it was to have someone bake such a wonderful cake on such a short notice. They had been so busy with Order missions, as well as putting the necessary protective charms on The Burrow, that they had started on their wedding plans only two months ago. Now, with the wedding so near, she still hadn’t dropped her elaborately designed cake. Honestly, he didn’t know what it would matter if they had a regular cake at the wedding; they were only going to eat it after all.
The cake shop they were at now was the cake shop that she wanted to shop at, mainly because of the French owner, but she was having problems with the owner himself! Louis Le Leon was a stout old man who was balding, yet had a long, grey moustache that ended in small knobs positioned perfectly above his currently puffed out cheeks. At the moment, Monsieur Le Leon was red-faced and his moustache flew hither and thither as he spoke to Fleur in heated tones.
“But, Mademoiselle, I cannot do zat! I ‘ave a shop to run, eet is not only your cake zat I ‘ave time for!” he yelled in exasperation.
“I do not care, Monsieur, eet is your job to make sure zat I am pleased wiz my purchase, and right now, I am not!” Fleur retaliated. “If you can’t make a cake ze way I want in two days, zen I promise, Monsieur, zat no one will come into your shop again.”
Monsieur Le Leon looked flustered, and none too happy with his current predicament. He could not very well ignore this; a Veela’s curse, even if it was from a person who was only a quarter Veela, would be a force to be reckoned with. “I will ‘ave to make some…adjustments, zen, to your cake,” he huffed, red-faced from suppressed frustration. “If I cannot, zen you will ‘ave to leave at zis moment.”
“Oui, we will, as long as zey are minor adjustments.But remember, deux jours, Monsieur, deux jours. Otherwise ze deal is off,” Fleur warned, and went on describing the cake.
Bill had no say in what sort of cake they should have, not that he would have been able to give any sort of suggestion anyway. He was rubbish with all of the decoration stuff that was involved in weddings. He was still wondering why he was there in the first place. Oh yeah, he thought with a slight shudder, she threatened to be angry with me.
Bill sighed and looked around the shop; it was a little one, but it still had a homey feel to it. As Fleur continued in rapid French (with a bit of English here and there), he walked around the quaint little shop, taking in the small details that made it unique. The floor was paneled with long, slim planks of wood that had him suddenly smiling at the memories of the many years that he had passed on a floor similar to this one. The dark, glossy surface reminded him of the old days, when it used to be just him and little Charlie running around in The Burrow’s kitchen trying to land their chubby little hands on one of their mum’s delicious biscuits. Now, however, the wooden floor of The Burrow was worn, and bore a few good scratches (courtesy of Fred and George), but the Weasleys did not mind. Instead, it was these scratches that they had built their memories upon – the worn walls and floors were what made it The Burrow. It was what made it home.
Bill sighed once more, this time more softly. He knew dangerous times were upon them. That was what led him home in the first place. That was what made his decision to marry Fleur so abrupt. He knew it was not the wrong decision, but he also knew that under these circumstances you needed to keep your loved ones as close as possible for fear of losing them altogether. The Weasleys were a ‘traitorous’ family, or so that’s what Voldemort and his men thought. Bill was more than a bit worried if he were honest with himself; a good part of his family was in The Order, and Voldemort probably knew that. What with Harry and The Order, he was surprised that nothing had happened to his family. Yet, he reminded himself.
Harry; now there was a mystery in itself. He knew something was up between his youngest siblings and Harry Potter. Ron and Hermione, of course, had something up their sleeves. They were planning to do something – significant – with Harry, but the problem was he didn’t know what. And his baby sister, Ginny, was a different story entirely. He had no clue what was going on there. When Ginny had come home in the summer, it was as if he’d seen her for the first time after a few years. She looked different somehow. Not physically different, but it was what was in her eyes that had bothered him. He knew that no one else saw it, but that didn’t make a difference. She looked alone, even in a room filled with people; he could see her eyes searching for something. And, the dilemma was, he thought he knew just what that something was; he just didn’t know what to do about it.
He and Ginny had always been closer than everyone thought. Ginny came to him whenever something, or rather someone, was upsetting her. More often than not, it was Fred and George, or even Ron, who had been bothering her all day with their relentless teasing of Harry.
He even remembered that fateful day in late June when his 5-year-old sister had tottered up to him humming a soft tune. She had obviously been playing in the grass with Ron as her hair was mussed up and she had grass stains on her new overalls that Mum had made.
“Mum’s going to be awful mad at you Ginny, you shouldn’t have gotten your new clothes dirty already!” he scolded, attempting to be terse with her.
“But you can fix it, can’t you, Bill? With magic!” she half-whispered excitedly, a twinkle in her eye. She had seen Bill do magic before when he was supposed to be de-gnoming the garden, and he had made her promise not to tell anyone. She had agreed, of course, though he could not be sure she wouldn’t tell now.
He sat down in front of her, patting his knee so that she could climb on top of it. She really was a tiny thing, or maybe he just thought that because he was already so tall. “Yes, I can, but I can’t do it as well as Mum. Now don’t tell anyone, you hear? I can still be expelled from Hogwarts if they ever find out!” She nodded her head, giggling madly and holding a hand to her mouth in an attempt to stifle it. “Scourgify!”
“Ooh! Bill, that was wicked!” she gasped with wonder, running a small hand over her freshly cleaned overalls.
“Fred and George taught you that?” To her proud nod, he replied, “I’ll have to tell them to stop teaching you words you don’t know. Knowing them, they’ll get you into trouble with Mum without you even knowing what happened.” He mumbled this more to himself than to her. “Now, what is it you wanted to tell me?”
She looked lost for a moment, her freckled-covered button nose (with a smudge of dirt) wrinkled in concentration. “Oh! I remember! Guess what, Bill?” she asked in a conspiring whisper, wiggling around with excitement.
“What, Gin?” he queried in a similar manner, trying not to smile at the would-be clever look on her small face.
“I’m going to marry Harry Potter,” she stated loud and proud.
And with that, Bill’s resolve crumbled and he burst out laughing, causing her to topple off his knee. “I’m sure you will, Gin, I’m sure you will,” he chuckled, setting her upright, patting her messy hair and freeing from it a few blades of grass. “Now we’d better get you all cleaned up before Mum gets home. She’s going to have me de-gnome the garden otherwise.”
“After that, can I have a biscuit, Bill? I promise, Mum’ll never know!” Ginny whispered, her eyes wide with promise.
“Only if you promise to let me be your favorite brother,” he said, with a small smile as he poked her tummy.
“Then I get two biscuits!” she exclaimed, giggling.
“Alright, alright,” he said, rolling his eyes, “just make sure you don’t tell Fred and George that I gave them to you. They have it in for me, those two!”
And with that they got up and made their way into the kitchen of The Burrow hand in hand, Ginny talking enthusiastically about her wedding day all the while.
He turned around, looking straight into bright blue eyes.
“What is ze matter?”
Bill sighed, “Nothing, really. I was just thinking about how fast this wedding came up. Kind of just jumped out at me, you know?”
“You are not ‘appy to be married to me? Is zat eet?” she asked, her expression mutinous except for the twinkle in her eyes, which led him to tease her just a bit more.
“Yeah, I was just wondering what I had got myself into, you know, what with you being so easy to infuriate. I’m pretty sure Dad wonders now, as well, with Mum going barmy over the wedding.” He smirked playfully. “Tell me, when shall I start building my getaway shed?”
“Bill Weasley! I am going to tell your muzzer you say such things about us women!” she exclaimed in mock anger. “Now, before I ‘ave more to complain about, take me ‘ome.”
“Of course, love. Anything for you!” And with that, he gently took her by the arm and led her out of the shop, all the while teasing her about whether or not he was going to spend more time in the shed than with her.
*Deux jours – two days
A/N: Many thanks to guruvee, my beta! You should really check out her story, A Wish Fulfilled, it is wonderful!