They said it was a tragedy – a mere accident that could have happened to anyone. Not intended. Definitely not a murder.

The rain ran down the roofs in rivulets, causing the passers-by to swerve free of certain areas in the street. Bill Weasley was among these – though to be honest, he couldn't care less about how wet he was in the grand scale of things. Appearances, however, needed to be kept.

This was a great source of annoyance with Bill; he knew doing odd things would draw attention to himself (and the population of wizards) but sometimes he couldn't be bothered. Especially if, like now, he was in a hurry.

Bill was staying in London for an indefinite period – all due to his stupidity, as he would constantly remind himself, a bitter smile on his face.

"Stop acting like the whole bloody world revolves around you!"

"Bill, I 'ave to tell you something…"

"Can it wait until the morning? I'm tired."

"You're always tired, Bill."

"Well, maybe I ought to leave and be tired somewhere else."

"Bill, don't…"

He'd stormed out the house and left.

Bill refused to return, even though he'd regretted his decision the moment he'd left Shell Cottage. He blamed it on the infamous 'Weasley Pride'.

He managed to separate himself from the heavy flow of the pedestrians, ducking into a small alleyway that would take him to his small apartment on the very edge of the city. It wasn't the most friendly part of town, but it was the only part he could afford.

"Weasley."

He froze.

"Weasley."

"What?" he called, loud enough to be heard, but quiet enough to be unnoticed by anyone who had casually decided to walk by.

"We have a matter to settle."

"Do we – "

Bill felt something bash against the back of his head. He saw stars for a moment, then all he saw was blackness. Then nothing.

AAAAAAAAAA

They found the body at midday the following day when a Muggle had happened to pass down the street. She'd screamed, then phoned the police immediately. A member of the Ministry of Magic employed in the police department had recognized the body and notified all those close to him.

They had yet to see the actual body; it had been submitted to the Muggle police to try and identify the cause of death.

Fleur sat in the corner of the room where they had been assembled, a handkerchief pressed to her mouth. Tears poured freely from her eyes, and she was in obvious distress.

Hermione sat beside her, trying to give some comfort – she knew she was failing dismally, as she had been trying for the past three hours.

For the first time in that three hours, Fleur spoke. "I never got to tell 'im."

"Tell him what?" Hermione hoped she didn't sound too inquisitive.

"'e left before I could tell 'im. I am expecting a child, 'ermione."

"You are? That's wonderful!" Hermione was cut off by Fleur's shake of her head.

"The child will not know 'oo 'is father is."

"But at least you have something to remember him by." Hermione reached out and squeezed Fleur's hand.

AAAAAAAAAA

"I love her! I love them all!"

"What?"

"She had something to tell me!"

"You will know when her time comes."

"Let me out!"

AAAAAAAAAA

A year had passed.

Fleur had given birth to her baby without the father by her side. She had named the child 'Victoire' as she had been born on the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts.

Everything was almost like before. Almost.

AAAAAAAAAA

Bill felt himself slam into the ground. He did nothing to move from his spot, and just lay there – the ground was rather comfy, and felt like grass.

Fleur.

Bill jerked upright, staring around at where he had landed. He was sitting in a small meadow in the height of spring. It was recognized easily – Bill remembered coming to walk here sometimes when he wanted to clear his head.

Apparently resilience defeated death after all.

He got to his feet, excited. Shell Cottage was only a mile away.

AAAAAAAAAA

Fleur loved this meadow. It was always peaceful, and no-one ever visited it except herself and now, Victoire.

Which was why she was surprised when she saw a tall figure standing on the opposite side.

AAAAAAAAAA

Bill turned.

There was a figure approaching him. She (for he could tell they were female) was slight, and had long, golden hair that cascaded down her back. She looked like an angel. Maybe she had come to take him away again?

No – she had a baby in her arms, and looked profoundly familiar.

Fleur.

AAAAAAAAAA

"Fleur!"

Fleur felt herself being lifted up into an embrace. She struggled away, fearing for the baby, not knowing who it was who had held her so familiarly.

"Bill?" she croaked.

It couldn't be. She was dreaming.

AAAAAAAAAA

"Bill?" her eyes were scared, open wide in askance.

"Yes."

"You can't be!" she pushed him away. "You're dead. I thought you were dead!"

"I'm not," Bill smiled sadly. "I came back."

AAAAAAAAAA

He came back. He came back.

"I 'ad something to tell you."

"I know," he smiled at her. "That's why I came back."

I extended my arms towards him.

"Meet Victoire."

This was meant to be multi-chapter. It was meant to be LONG. But it wasn't, and I disappointed myself. I also know I failed at Fleur's accent.

But never mind, please review!