forever is the sweetest con (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
delacourtings) wrote2019-04-08 06:16 pm
delacourtings) wrote2019-04-08 06:16 pm
Entry tags:
[fic] sweetest little part of destiny ; hp, fleur, bill/fleur
reveals are up at ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
hp_bunintheoven for the 2019 fest which means i can crosspost this. be sure to go over and check out all the other wonderful fics!
sweetest little part of destiny. harry potter. fleur, bill/fleur. pg-13. 1702. ao3. lj.
forhp_bunintheoven. @ bito's dw. @ bito's lj.
hp_bunintheoven for the 2019 fest which means i can crosspost this. be sure to go over and check out all the other wonderful fics! sweetest little part of destiny. harry potter. fleur, bill/fleur. pg-13. 1702. ao3. lj.
for
hp_bunintheoven. @ bito's dw. @ bito's lj. two years may seem like a lifetime to someone who wasn’t there, someone who didn’t witness the chaos of the war, who doesn’t feel the death and destruction that still lingers over everyone. but two years is nothing. not to someone like andromeda, who lost both a husband and a daughter and a son-in-law. it is nothing to harry, poor, sweet harry, who has always carried the world on his shoulders and who will never step feeling like the lives lost in the war are sitting on his conscience. or, molly, who has lost a son but is trying her damnedest to mother yet another orphaned young boy. the three of them are all trying their hardest to make the broken pieces of themselves into one whole parent for teddy.
how can she bring a child into this world and take their attention away from that?
Fleur paces back and forth across the kitchen, her owl flying behind her. Guillelmus could always tell when something was distressing her and believed the cure for her troubles was for him to be around at all times. Normally she found his presence comforting but today not even his soft, warm feathers resting in her neck or his loving nips on her ear were enough to calm her anxieties.
Fleur glanced at the table, where six vials sat, effervescent. The vials held a liquid inside the color of the sky outside her window. She assumed the blue hue had been chosen to instill a sense of tranquility upon those avidly watching the vials but the calming color did nothing to soothe her nerves. Any moment now each of the vials would either turn bright red or green. Any moment now, the vials would change color, possibly completely altering her life.
She watches as the vials start to change, one by one, into a bright, chartreuse green. She’s pregnant.
She doesn’t know how she ought to feel.
She has always wanted to be a mother. She didn’t think she would be this young when she became one. She didn’t think it would happen so soon. It has only been a few years since the war ended. Some nights she still wakes up screaming, relieving Bill’s attack, Cedric’s death, Voldemort’s return. All of the worst things she’s ever experienced twist into one ugly never ending tale that she feels like she can never escape, not until Bill shakes her out of it, and still she wakes with a horrified scream in her throat.
Little Teddy is barely even two. Oh. Teddy. How could she have forgotten?
Two years may seem like a lifetime to someone who wasn’t there, someone who didn’t witness the chaos of the war, the death and destruction that still lingers over everyone. But is nothing to someone like Andromeda, who lost both a husband and a daughter and a son in law. It is nothing to Harry, poor, sweet Harry, who has always carried the world on his shoulders and who will never stop feeling like the lives lost in the war on his conscience. Or Molly, who has lost a son but is trying her damnedest to mother yet another orphaned young boy. The three of them are all trying their hardest to make the broken pieces of themselves into one who whole parent for Teddy.
How can she bring a child into this world and take their attention away from that?
She will have to keep it a secret. At least for now.
Bill is joyous when she whispers the words to him. Then concern takes hold of his face as he studies how troubled she is. When she confesses her worries to him, he says a soft, “Oh, Fleur,” and brings her into his arms.
Once she has explained, fully, he agrees with her. They must not tell anyone until the time is right. Not until she’s at least twelve weeks. That is when they will be allowed to celebrate themselves too. The war has made them all too prepared for loss.
It doesn’t feel real. Not until she is sitting in a cold, sterile white room, a picture of her child on a screen in front of her. She’s laughing and crying because it kind of looks like a blob, and kind of looks like a misshapen peanut, and kind of looks like nothing at all.
She wants to take the picture and show it to everyone she comes across.
She so desperately wants to tell someone, anyone. She is hesitant to tell her own family out of fear they will let something slip to the Weasleys. Her family and Bill’s do not communicate often but she doesn’t want to take the chance.
One day she’s in Muggle London and she’s so tired of keeping this secret, of feeling like a balloon about to burst, that she just blurts it out to random passerby on the street. Most people ignore her or give her odd looks but one woman grabs her hand, and jumps up and down, congratulating her. It’s one of the few times since she first found out that she is well and truly happy.
She breaks the news to Harry first. She thought he would be the easiest but as he’s standing there in front of her, smiling his charming, boyish smile, her resolve starts to crumble.
“‘Arry, you know you are like family to me. You have held a special place in my heart since you saved Gabrielle.”
Harry, ever embarrassed by mentions of his heroics, blushes and looks away.
She thought maybe he’d have some advice to give her.
She feels a kinship with Harry. They are both Weasleys on technicalities. There will always be a piece of them that feels like they do not truly belong. She has seen in it the way Harry catches her eye and awkwardly smiles as the rest of the family reminiscences about stories they weren’t a part of. She knows they share this because of the way he drunkenly confessed to her that he doesn’t feel like he has a right to grieve Fred and she felt relief, knowing someone else felt the same way she did.
“‘Arry, I’m pregnant.”
Harry’s eyes immediately flicker down to her stomach where Fleur’s hand is resting protectively.
Harry’s eyebrows start to furrow and she can predict where this is about to go. “But you don’t---,” he starts to say and then thinks better of it.
“My mother did not gain very much weight when she was pregnant with me. Nor with Gabrielle. It seems I have inherited that luck.”
“Why is it lucky?”
“I am...worried about telling Molly. I do not want her to know until I am ready.”
“But why? Mrs. Weasley will be thrilled! You’re having her first grandchild! Her first blood one, anyway.”
Perhaps she overestimated Harry. He is still so young. And even though he may feel like an outsider, he has always been accepted as one of the Weasleys. Right from the beginning. He doesn’t understand, not really.
“I am also worried it will impact the amount of time she spends with Teddy.”
Harry mulls this over for a few moments. “Maybe. But I doubt it. Fleur, I really don’t think is something you need to worry about. Mrs. Weasley raised seven kids and she’s even better about making sure they all get equal quality time with her now than she used to be.”
Fleur expected talking to Harry might calm her down but all it seems to do is make her even more anxious.
She doesn’t have it in her heart to tell Andromeda. At least, not in person. Perhaps it is cowardly of her but all she can bring herself to do is send her an owl. Bill stands at her side as she pens it, hand resting on her shoulder.
She writes and rewrites it what feels like a hundred times. It takes her weeks to send it. Andromeda writes back within a day but Fleur is unable to open it. She promises herself she will eventually. When it’s closer to the due date. Perhaps, even after the child is born.
When the initial time frame they set for themselves has passed, Bill and Fleur Floo to his mother’s to tell her the news.
Bill offers to stay with her but she refuses. This is something she must do by herself. He kisses her gently and squeezes her hand, letting her know he’ll be right outside if she needs him.
She takes a deep breath before she walks into the kitchen, where Molly is humming as she does the dishes.
”Molly,” Fleur says, hesitant.
“Yes, dear?”
When she imagined this moment, she pictured them sitting down, face to face. Perhaps it is better this way.
Fleur breathes deeply once more, strengthening her resolve.
“I’m pregnant.”
The humming stops. All of the dishes that were hovering in midair crash to the ground.
Molly turns around slowly, tears flowing from her eyes.
“Why are you crying?” Fleur asks, alarmed.
She looks around the room frantically, now wishing she had insisted Bill stay.
“William!” She starts to call but Molly interrupts her.
“Oh, it’s nothing, dear. I’m just so happy.”
Relief floods through Fleur. “You are?”
“Of course I am! Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I know I am not your first choice for Bill’s partner---”
Molly interrupts, taking Fleur’s hands in hers. “I know I haven’t treated you very well in the past. I regret that more than you know. You have made it more than clear that you love my son. And that is all that matters. I couldn’t be more happy that you are carrying my first grandchild.”
Tears start to form in Fleur’s eyes but she pushes them away. Molly notices anyway and smiles softly.
“How far along are you? Are you taking your prenatal potions?”
Fleur looks down at her stomach. “I’m fourteen weeks.”
“Fourteen weeks! Merlin! There’s so much to do! Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?”
“I...We didn’t want you to focus on us instead of Teddy.”
Molly’s face softens. “Oh, Fleur. That is very kind of you. But completely unnecessary. We have so much love to give. All of us. And if this war has taught us anything, it’s that we need to show it to one another more often.”
Molly takes Fleur’s hands in hers. “This child is a blessing. Just like Teddy. There are so many of us ready to spoil these two children. There is more than enough attention to go around. They are both going to be so loved. That’s all that matters.”
The tears start to fall freely from Fleur’s face now and Bill enters the kitchen, seeming to instinctively know Fleur is crying.
“Is everything alright?” He asks, stepping behind Fleur and eyeing his mother warily.
Molly rolls her eyes at him. “Everything is fine. Now, have you two discussed names?”
Fleur looks up at Bill who smiles and nods, signaling that he is willing to share if she is.
“Well,” Fleur says, “we were thinking of Victoire.”
Fleur paces back and forth across the kitchen, her owl flying behind her. Guillelmus could always tell when something was distressing her and believed the cure for her troubles was for him to be around at all times. Normally she found his presence comforting but today not even his soft, warm feathers resting in her neck or his loving nips on her ear were enough to calm her anxieties.
Fleur glanced at the table, where six vials sat, effervescent. The vials held a liquid inside the color of the sky outside her window. She assumed the blue hue had been chosen to instill a sense of tranquility upon those avidly watching the vials but the calming color did nothing to soothe her nerves. Any moment now each of the vials would either turn bright red or green. Any moment now, the vials would change color, possibly completely altering her life.
She watches as the vials start to change, one by one, into a bright, chartreuse green. She’s pregnant.
She doesn’t know how she ought to feel.
She has always wanted to be a mother. She didn’t think she would be this young when she became one. She didn’t think it would happen so soon. It has only been a few years since the war ended. Some nights she still wakes up screaming, relieving Bill’s attack, Cedric’s death, Voldemort’s return. All of the worst things she’s ever experienced twist into one ugly never ending tale that she feels like she can never escape, not until Bill shakes her out of it, and still she wakes with a horrified scream in her throat.
Little Teddy is barely even two. Oh. Teddy. How could she have forgotten?
Two years may seem like a lifetime to someone who wasn’t there, someone who didn’t witness the chaos of the war, the death and destruction that still lingers over everyone. But is nothing to someone like Andromeda, who lost both a husband and a daughter and a son in law. It is nothing to Harry, poor, sweet Harry, who has always carried the world on his shoulders and who will never stop feeling like the lives lost in the war on his conscience. Or Molly, who has lost a son but is trying her damnedest to mother yet another orphaned young boy. The three of them are all trying their hardest to make the broken pieces of themselves into one who whole parent for Teddy.
How can she bring a child into this world and take their attention away from that?
She will have to keep it a secret. At least for now.
Bill is joyous when she whispers the words to him. Then concern takes hold of his face as he studies how troubled she is. When she confesses her worries to him, he says a soft, “Oh, Fleur,” and brings her into his arms.
Once she has explained, fully, he agrees with her. They must not tell anyone until the time is right. Not until she’s at least twelve weeks. That is when they will be allowed to celebrate themselves too. The war has made them all too prepared for loss.
It doesn’t feel real. Not until she is sitting in a cold, sterile white room, a picture of her child on a screen in front of her. She’s laughing and crying because it kind of looks like a blob, and kind of looks like a misshapen peanut, and kind of looks like nothing at all.
She wants to take the picture and show it to everyone she comes across.
She so desperately wants to tell someone, anyone. She is hesitant to tell her own family out of fear they will let something slip to the Weasleys. Her family and Bill’s do not communicate often but she doesn’t want to take the chance.
One day she’s in Muggle London and she’s so tired of keeping this secret, of feeling like a balloon about to burst, that she just blurts it out to random passerby on the street. Most people ignore her or give her odd looks but one woman grabs her hand, and jumps up and down, congratulating her. It’s one of the few times since she first found out that she is well and truly happy.
She breaks the news to Harry first. She thought he would be the easiest but as he’s standing there in front of her, smiling his charming, boyish smile, her resolve starts to crumble.
“‘Arry, you know you are like family to me. You have held a special place in my heart since you saved Gabrielle.”
Harry, ever embarrassed by mentions of his heroics, blushes and looks away.
She thought maybe he’d have some advice to give her.
She feels a kinship with Harry. They are both Weasleys on technicalities. There will always be a piece of them that feels like they do not truly belong. She has seen in it the way Harry catches her eye and awkwardly smiles as the rest of the family reminiscences about stories they weren’t a part of. She knows they share this because of the way he drunkenly confessed to her that he doesn’t feel like he has a right to grieve Fred and she felt relief, knowing someone else felt the same way she did.
“‘Arry, I’m pregnant.”
Harry’s eyes immediately flicker down to her stomach where Fleur’s hand is resting protectively.
Harry’s eyebrows start to furrow and she can predict where this is about to go. “But you don’t---,” he starts to say and then thinks better of it.
“My mother did not gain very much weight when she was pregnant with me. Nor with Gabrielle. It seems I have inherited that luck.”
“Why is it lucky?”
“I am...worried about telling Molly. I do not want her to know until I am ready.”
“But why? Mrs. Weasley will be thrilled! You’re having her first grandchild! Her first blood one, anyway.”
Perhaps she overestimated Harry. He is still so young. And even though he may feel like an outsider, he has always been accepted as one of the Weasleys. Right from the beginning. He doesn’t understand, not really.
“I am also worried it will impact the amount of time she spends with Teddy.”
Harry mulls this over for a few moments. “Maybe. But I doubt it. Fleur, I really don’t think is something you need to worry about. Mrs. Weasley raised seven kids and she’s even better about making sure they all get equal quality time with her now than she used to be.”
Fleur expected talking to Harry might calm her down but all it seems to do is make her even more anxious.
She doesn’t have it in her heart to tell Andromeda. At least, not in person. Perhaps it is cowardly of her but all she can bring herself to do is send her an owl. Bill stands at her side as she pens it, hand resting on her shoulder.
She writes and rewrites it what feels like a hundred times. It takes her weeks to send it. Andromeda writes back within a day but Fleur is unable to open it. She promises herself she will eventually. When it’s closer to the due date. Perhaps, even after the child is born.
When the initial time frame they set for themselves has passed, Bill and Fleur Floo to his mother’s to tell her the news.
Bill offers to stay with her but she refuses. This is something she must do by herself. He kisses her gently and squeezes her hand, letting her know he’ll be right outside if she needs him.
She takes a deep breath before she walks into the kitchen, where Molly is humming as she does the dishes.
”Molly,” Fleur says, hesitant.
“Yes, dear?”
When she imagined this moment, she pictured them sitting down, face to face. Perhaps it is better this way.
Fleur breathes deeply once more, strengthening her resolve.
“I’m pregnant.”
The humming stops. All of the dishes that were hovering in midair crash to the ground.
Molly turns around slowly, tears flowing from her eyes.
“Why are you crying?” Fleur asks, alarmed.
She looks around the room frantically, now wishing she had insisted Bill stay.
“William!” She starts to call but Molly interrupts her.
“Oh, it’s nothing, dear. I’m just so happy.”
Relief floods through Fleur. “You are?”
“Of course I am! Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I know I am not your first choice for Bill’s partner---”
Molly interrupts, taking Fleur’s hands in hers. “I know I haven’t treated you very well in the past. I regret that more than you know. You have made it more than clear that you love my son. And that is all that matters. I couldn’t be more happy that you are carrying my first grandchild.”
Tears start to form in Fleur’s eyes but she pushes them away. Molly notices anyway and smiles softly.
“How far along are you? Are you taking your prenatal potions?”
Fleur looks down at her stomach. “I’m fourteen weeks.”
“Fourteen weeks! Merlin! There’s so much to do! Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?”
“I...We didn’t want you to focus on us instead of Teddy.”
Molly’s face softens. “Oh, Fleur. That is very kind of you. But completely unnecessary. We have so much love to give. All of us. And if this war has taught us anything, it’s that we need to show it to one another more often.”
Molly takes Fleur’s hands in hers. “This child is a blessing. Just like Teddy. There are so many of us ready to spoil these two children. There is more than enough attention to go around. They are both going to be so loved. That’s all that matters.”
The tears start to fall freely from Fleur’s face now and Bill enters the kitchen, seeming to instinctively know Fleur is crying.
“Is everything alright?” He asks, stepping behind Fleur and eyeing his mother warily.
Molly rolls her eyes at him. “Everything is fine. Now, have you two discussed names?”
Fleur looks up at Bill who smiles and nods, signaling that he is willing to share if she is.
“Well,” Fleur says, “we were thinking of Victoire.”