A/N: So, here we are. Thank you for sticking around and reviewing. The story is done; I've said everything I intended, and I really enjoyed writing it. I may add an epilogue about Victoire at some point, but I have a couple of other projects that are ahead on my to-do list first.

Also, if you are reading this on November 6 and live in the U.S., PLEASE GO VOTE if you haven't yet. It's even more important than leaving me a review.

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The Weasleys slept – as it were – in the Gryffindor common room that night. They huddled together on puffy purple sleeping bags in front of the fireplace and Fleur didn't think any of them actually closed their eyes at all. George had refused to leave Fred until the bodies of the fallen had been taken away. Now he sat quietly off to one side, mostly staring at his hands.

"I don't think he's cried yet," said Bill quietly. It was past midnight and he and Fleur were sitting together on a pair of sleeping bags he had zipped together.

"Neither have you," pointed out Fleur. Indeed, since the moment he had let George and his father take Fred's body from him, Bill had been everywhere at once, first, protecting and fighting, and then making arrangements, organizing, and moving from brother to brother, to Ginny, and to his parents to make sure they didn't need anything. The circles under his eyes were deep and his scars only accentuated the haunted look he wore. But he had yet to shed a tear, and Fleur suspected he refused to do so in front of George.

At one a.m. there was movement by the stairs that led up to the boys' dormitory. Harry appeared at the bottom looking considerably cleaner and more alert than he had the last time Fleur had seen him more than twelve hours earlier. He started at the sight of all the Weasleys, and then gave a tiny shrug before turning to look back up the way he had come. He reached out a hand to someone and then Ginny stepped into the common room too. She had been with her family for most of the evening and Fleur realized she hadn't seen her leave. Ginny's eyes were red and puffy, but when Harry wrapped an arm around her waist, she leaned her head on his shoulder.

"Do you need sleeping bags? Both of you?" Arthur spoke quietly from where he sat with Molly by the sofa. He gestured to a space beside him where two more sleeping bags sat empty.

Ginny nodded jerkily and started to walk towards her father. But Harry stayed frozen at the bottom of the stairs. His eyes darted around from face to face, stopping several times on George. He looked away from everyone as he answered.

"I don't know if I . . . I mean, I'm not . . . you don't have to . . ." Harry spoke haltingly. He backed into the shadow of the staircase as if he wanted to go back to his dorm room.

"Don't . . . don't be a nutter, Harry. You belong down here." George's voice was hoarse and shaky, but he looked openly at Harry while he spoke.

Harry shook his head. "George . . . I . . ." he began. George held up a hand to stop him.

"Don't," he said harshly. "Not . . . not now. Just get down here and sit next to Ginny." His tone allowed no argument.

Harry opened his mouth and then closed it again. He looked around the room once more before nodding quietly and walking into the room. He sat down on the sleeping bag Mr. Weasley had conjured and grabbed Ginny's hand. She shuffled closer and leaned against him.

Next to Fleur, Bill let out a quiet sigh. "George is so tightly wound, I don't know what to do. I think he may be heading for an explosion," he said. He put his arm around her. "I hope he doesn't wait until he's alone."

"I don't think anyone is going to let him be alone, for a while," said Fleur. Indeed, even as they watched, Ron got up from where he was sitting with Hermione and plopped himself down next to George. He showed him something small in the palm of his hand and Fleur saw a small smile quirk across George's face.

"Whatcha got there, Ron?" Charlie's voice sounded overly hearty. Charlie tended to understand dragons better than people, Fleur knew.

But he was trying.

"It's umm, I think a umm, Fainting Fancy?" Ron looked at George, who gave a small nod. "I found it stuck on the side of the fireplace grate. Probably been here for years."

"We sold a lot of them," said George quietly. "They were the most popular of our Skiving Snackbox product line." He twisted the tiny colored candy in his hands. "Fred's idea," he said. His voice was barely a whisper. No one spoke.

"All the best ideas are Fred's," he continued. "He . . . he told me yesterday he'd just had a thought. About how to expand the line for the workplace . . . new illnesses and things. We've been so busy . . . he was going to tell me about it this week. We planned to take the day off, leave Verity in charge of the store. . ."

George's voice trailed off. He looked at the ball in his hand. Suddenly, he crushed it between his fingers and pitched it hard against the opposite wall.

"Now I'll never know," he said bitterly.

Ron looked stricken. He reached out a hand to his brother. "George, I'm . . ." he began.

George batted his arm away. "I'm never going to know what Fred's idea was," he said again. His voice had risen. "He was supposed to be okay. We both were - we promised each other. Just . . . just before. We promised!" George was shouting now. He got to his feet and looked wildly around before grabbing a small lamp off a side table and throwing it at the wall near the Fancy.

Fleur saw Molly start to get up, and Arthur reach out his arm to stop her. George was pacing the room, pushing things off tables and carrying on a running stream of conversation.

"See here? This is where we came up with the idea to put a permanent sticking charm on Filch's underwear. He couldn't get them off for a week but never could prove it was us." He stopped by a window. "This is where we set the charm to make it always look like it was raining when we wanted Oliver to cancel practice. Took him a month to figure out."

He pointed at a small table in the corner and looked back at his family. "And this is where we sat to fill orders. Hermione . . . she sat across the room and couldn't see what we were doing, couldn't go all Prefect on us."

Fleur saw Hermione make a convulsive movement and raise her hand to her mouth. Ron jumped up and went to sit next to her, pulling her head down to his chest. Her body shook with tears and he gently rubbed her back.

George stumbled to a halt in the center of the room. "And this . . . this is where Harry kissed Ginny for the first time," he said. He looked back at the assembled group. "We . . . we weren't here, of course. But news certainly traveled fast." He ran his hand through his hair. "That's when he . . . when Fred, I mean. That's when Fred got the idea for the kissing alerts." He looked at his sister. "Sorry, Gin," he said quietly."

Tears were running down Ginny's cheeks but she waved her hand dismissively. "It's okay," she said thickly.

George's anger seemed to have burned out. He stood in the center of the common room, swaying slightly and looking rather lost. "And umm," he began. "Umm, this is where . . . where . . ." he shook his head and sunk to his knees.

Almost as one, the Weasley children ran to George's side. Bill got there first and wrapped his arms around his brother as he finally began to mourn the loss of his twin. The rest piled on and around the two of them in a solid mass of hugs and crying. Molly and Arthur stood over everyone, gently touching one and then another on the back.

Without really thinking about it, Fleur stood up and walked tentatively over to the tangle of bodies around George. She realized that Harry and Hermione were there too; Harry had his hand on Ginny's shoulder and Hermione was standing behind Ron. As the group broke apart, George moved into his parents' embrace and Bill stood up, his eyes seeking. Fleur saw they were still dry. She opened her arms and he stumbled into them, lifting her entirely off the ground as he held her. He was trembling, and she knew that his efforts to hold himself together for the sake of his family were almost at their limit.

"Let's go upstairs," she said quietly.

Bill let her lead him to the stairway that led to the girls' dormitory. They climbed in silence until they reached an empty room at the top of the stairs that still had a faintly flowery scent. None of the Seventh Year girls had finished out the school year and the room had a slightly abandoned air about it.

Fleur set locking and silencing charms at the door before pulling Bill down onto the nearest bed. He sat heavily, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms before lowering his head into his hands. She knelt behind him on the bed and wrapped her arms around his chest.

"I can't . . . I can't stand this," he finally said. "I can't believe he's gone. They're Fred and George. The twins. It's always been like that. And now . . ." He trailed off and Fleur a splash of wet on her hand. Finally.

Bill cried silently and hard for many minutes. Eventually, his tears slowed and his breathing eased. He accepted the cloth Fleur conjured and wiped his face before finally turning to look at her.

"Thank you," he said hoarsely. "I didn't want the rest of them to see me like this."

He leaned against her, and she brushed his hair off his face.

"It's going to be 'orrible for a long time," she said softly. "I know you want to fix it for everyone, but you can't."

Bill nodded. "You're right, I know." He took a deep breath. "But it's going to be hard not to."

"It's who you are," she agreed.

"It's just . . ." Bill took a deep breath and Fleur felt him begin to tremble again. He shook his head.

"What, love?"

"At the battle," he said heavily. "When . . . when we split up to help. After . . . Fred." The words sounded like they were being ripped from his throat.

"Yes?"

"I couldn't find you," Bill said quietly. "For what felt like forever, I couldn't find you. I didn't know where you were, or if you were hurt, or . . . worse."

Fleur remembered the desperation in Bill's voice as he searched for her.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't realize . . ."

"Shhh," he said, pressing a soft finger to her lips. "I know you couldn't help it, that you needed to help the others. But . . . while you were gone, all I could think was how much I wanted, how much I needed to see you again." He shuffled further back onto the bed and leaned against the wall, bringing her with him.

"And then I did. See you again," he said simply. "And I was able to hold you and kiss you and know that you were going to be okay, and that we . . . that we had more time together. But George . . ." he said, voice breaking, "George doesn't get that. He doesn't get Fred back, and I know it's awful for our entire family, but especially for him." Bill was crying again, and Fleur too. He buried his face in her hair.

"I got you back," he said heavily. "It's killing me that I can't give that to him."

Fleur knew there was nothing to say. She rubbed Bill's back quietly, and when her turned her in his lap a couple of minutes later, she tilted her head up to his and opened herself to his kisses and to his hands, fumbling softly at the front of her robes.

She let Bill undress her and watched as he roughly pulled off his own clothes. Only when they were both naked did he push her gently down on the bed and cover her body with his. He kept his eyes open, watching, as he balanced on his forearms and moved himself slowly up and down her body, his arousal skimming her belly but doing nothing to seek entrance.

And then he lowered himself flush against her again and kissed her gently from her jaw down to her waist. His hand brushed against her center and then across her thigh, encouraging her to bend her knees and let her legs fall open.

He kissed the juncture of her hip, nipping lightly and then following immediately with his tongue, and Fleur gave a quiet moan of pleasure. She knew why Bill was starting with his mouth; knew that he could get lost in her, when he was like this, and that it was what he needed. He kissed across her belly before dipping down and spreading her open, first with his fingers and then with soft kisses and tiny tastes that made her writhe.

He was pushing himself into the mattress as he worked on her and Fleur knew how much he was enjoying himself too; there had been occasions – not many, but it had happened – where he had actually come to orgasm himself whilst going down on her. It had been a joke between them, that her Veela magic could bring Bill all they back to his teenage years.

But he didn't feel like a teenager now. Bill put one hand on each of her thighs and pulled himself closer. His tongue teased and tickled, sliding in and out while his fingers probed themselves. Without warning, he moved to suck on her clitoris, and the sudden intensity of it made her scream. He flattened his tongue against her and Fleur let go, pushing her hips up into him as she climaxed.

Without breaking rhythm, Bill pulled himself up her body and fit himself into her with a single fluid movement. Fleur was still quivering when Bill entered, and he moved his hand down between them to coax her back to the brink.

They rocked together, grasping each other so tightly she was sure their would be marks tomorrow.

"I'm going to . . . make you come again," Bill panted. He pushed himself up on his arms without withdrawing so he could reach down to rub her again.

"I'm almost there," she said. She thrust up. "You need to hold on for me."

Bill nodded, eyes wild. His hand worked against her. "I will," he said thickly. "But . . . oh god. I'm trying."

Fleur wrapped her arms around Bill's back and pulled her fully onto her. He pumped up and down and she lifted her legs to wrap them around his back.

"I'm close, love," she said. "Hold on just a few seconds more."

She could see Bill was beyond being able to answer. But his eyes were wide open and they stared at each other as Fleur gave a final thrust upwards, and cried out to him to let himself go.

She felt as Bill's climax ripped through him, and her. He wrapped his arms around her back and rolled so she lay on top of him as he came back to himself. He tucked her head down under his chin and gently tickled his hands up and down her back. They didn't speak.

She knew they were both thinking about their family downstairs. It would be time, very soon, to rejoin them. Fleur didn't know when she and Bill would have their next moment alone, but just knowing that they would was more than enough.