The moment the clock struck twelve, Fleur ceased duplicating the piles and piles of forms her boss had left her, raced out of her office and through the corridors of Gringotts, out underneath the scaffolding which was in place whilst the repairs to the dragon damaged building were completed and onto Diagon Alley. As soon as she was free of the anti-apparition wards of the bank, she apparated back to the home she shared with her husband on the Cornish coast.

Once inside the cottage, she found Bill lying on the settee in the front room, rubbing a potion onto his old scars. "Bad this month," he grunted by way of greeting, as she entered the room.

"Let me," she said, taking the potion from him, and summoning a cool cloth for his forehead. "You are burning..."

"I'll live," he said, gasping slightly as she brushed one of the wounds on his chest. "Been worse..."

"Not much worse," she replied.

Bill's scars were, for most of the month, completely fine – apart from their rather unsightly appearance. On the night of the full moon, however, they caused him great pain, and during particularly bad months – as this one was shaping up to be – they hurt during daylight hours as well. Most cruelly of all, in Fleur's opinion, was the fact that there was nothing that could be done about it – the wolfsbane potion, which had worked so well for Remus Lupin, was ineffectual as Bill was not an actual werewolf. Cooling charms and standard pain relieving potions were all that could be done to help; he merely had to wait out the pain, which generally faded after the moon set.

"I have you, which helps," Bill said, as she stroked his hair. "And you could make me lunch, too, that would help as well..." She rolled her eyes and playfully slapped his hands away from her waist, but got up to make sandwiches anyway.

Back in her tiny office, Fleur pulled out a small diary from her desk drawer. A double page spread at the front of the little book had a year planner on which the calender was marked. Every twenty eight days, she put a neat cross through the date in green ink, marking off another full moon, and another day of her husband's life marred by the terrible war, which was supposedly finished. For families that had been touched by tragedy, like the Weasleys had been many times over, the war would never be done with.

Not only did they have to contend with losing a son, sibling or twin, there was Bill's wolf-like tendencies; Ginny's trauma from a year of being punished by the Cruciatus Curse and Harry, Ron and Hermione's many scars from their Horcrux hunt. Percy had been hit by a spell that left him blind in his left eye in the final battle, George's ear had been cursed off and Charlie now walked with a permanent limp. Audrey, the newest Mrs. Weasley, had successfully found her parents and younger sister in Canada and brought them back to the UK with help from her husband, but her relationship with them was apparently strained, as they no longer trusted the magical world and were reluctant to accept her involvement with it.

As for Fleur, after the Death Eaters had attacked her wedding, she refused to allow her family—and especially Gabrielle—to visit her new country of residence. Even now that the war was over, she couldn't face the thought of ever seeing terror on her little sister's face like she had at her wedding, and insisted that they stay in France. Her parents had suggested they come and stay in Cornwall over the summer, now that the dangers had apparently passed but Fleur did not take them up on this offer. Instead, she and Bill had spent two weeks visiting France, most of which had been spent in the Muggle world, as the witches and wizards there were quick to interpret Bill's scars and refuse to allow 'the werewolf' near them or their children.

Sighing, Fleur shook herself out of her rather depressing reverie, and picked up a quill, marking an 'X' through the date and wondering, as she did so, how many other wives out there had to mark their husbands' "Time of the Month" (as George so eloquently put it). Speaking of it being "that Time of the Month"...she frowned slightly, looking at the other 'X' marks – this time, in red ink – that peppered the calendar. They had been as regular as clockwork previously, but it was now the middle of September, and she hadn't had to mark a red 'X'—and thus, hadn't had a period—since the beginning of July.

She remembered not being too concerned when she had skipped her period at the beginning of August – with all the stress of the previous months, it didn't seem that unusual that she was late. Though she was very late. She'd missed two periods by now. Could she be...?

No, she wasn't pregnant. Pregnant women were either sick constantly, or felt gloriously healthy all the time, and she was neither of those things. She just felt normal. And anyway, she and Bill were being careful – they didn't want a baby just yet, so she made sure to take her contraceptive potions regularly.

Except...she'd forgotten her potions when she'd gone to stay in France, and they'd risked it - but she had taken the potion regularly since. So there was a chance – a tiny, tiny chance - that she was pregnant. She sighed. The chance that she could be pregnant was so small as to be almost non-existent, but until she had definitively disproved it, she knew she was going to keep wondering.

"Eet ees like," she said aloud, "when you are a small child and you zhink zhat zhere are monsters in your wardrobe. You know logically zhat zhere are not, but you cannot sleep until you 'ave checked."

"Until you've checked what?" came the curious voice of one of her co-workers, who had stuck her head around the door. "And don't you know that talking to yourself is the first sign of madness?" Annie added.

"Talking to yourself is fine, it's when things start talking back you've got a problem," Fleur muttered, more to herself than to the pretty, raven-haired girl.

"What now?" Annie asked. "You know I can't understand you when you start wittering en français. Anyway, we need to get going for the meeting."

"Zhe meeting?" repeated Fleur blankly.

"The meeting, you know, with the Parisian whojemeflops. Wizards from whatever it is you Frenchies call Gringotts. You're translating?" said Annie, shaking her head in amusement. "Honestly, you must have been totally wasted last night to not remember any of that! But don't worry – I always carry spare hangover potion in my bag for these sorts of situations. Ooh, and speaking of getting totally wasted – did I tell you I went out again with Derrick last night?"

Annie continued gossiping all the way to their meeting—and through it, as well, whenever she could—and Fleur rather absent-mindedly noticed how different the two girls had become. They were the same age, both pretty girls who had started working at the bank at the same time, so it was perhaps natural that they should become friends. They shared an interest in fashion, punk rock and cute boys, and had spent many evenings in each others tiny bedsits, drinking cheap wine out of chipped mugs before going out and hitting the town and relying on magic to cure their hangovers and hide the bags under their eyes the next day at work.

Annie had initially set her sights on the handsome cursebreaker Bill Weasley, who had recently returned from Egypt to take a desk job ('Merlin only knows why, but thank God he has because getting to stare at that arse everyday is the only good part about this job!'), but had backed down good-naturedly when it became clear that he had his eyes set on Fleur. Now she was still going out and partying, whilst Fleur was a married woman, possibly with a baby on the way. It was strange how these things worked out.

The meeting was indescribably dull – she was only there to translate for the French ambassadors, but given that they spoke excellent English, she was hardly needed at all – and even Annie's chatter and note-passing failed to cheer her up. Mostly, she felt stupid for worrying about being pregnant – the chance that she could be was so slight that it almost seemed more reasonable to worry about a broomstick falling out of the sky and hitting her on the head.

Whilst she knew very little about the details of pregnancy, she remembered from when her mother was pregnant with Gabrielle that she'd had morning sickness, odd cravings and a hugely swollen stomach. Fleur felt perfectly healthy, had no strange food cravings, and a quick check proved that her stomach was flat as ever. So there was definitely no chance that she was pregnant, then. Except...when did all these things start? Her mother hadn't started showing with Gabrielle until the fifth month, she remembered, but sickness and cravings started earlier...didn't they? Or maybe not... Yes, she would definitely have to pick up a test on the way home, if only so the voice in her head would shut up with this constant back-and-forth about the possibility of her being pregnant.

After the meeting, the rest of the afternoon passed smoothly, and Fleur was able to leave at four thirty on the dot. She had told Bill she would pick up some things for dinner on her way home, so she ambled down Diagon Alley into the food stores, enjoying the feel of the late afternoon sunshine on her face. Despite it being the middle of September already, they were having something of an Indian Summer in London, so whilst the leaves were starting to change, it was still nice enough to walk around outside in just her lightweight silver work robes. It was a shame, she thought, that the full moon came tonight – it would have been a lovely evening for an early supper at the French café she loved.

But that was clearly not going to happen, so instead, she bypassed the café and entered the apothecary, buying a pain relieving potion and a Dreamless Sleep potion for Bill, and, after a moment's hesitation, a pregnancy test. "That's seven Galleons thirteen Sickles, please," said the man working behind the counter. She paid him, and turned to leave, accidentally bumping into someone as she went.

"Oh, je suis desolee," she said, as she dropped her potions on the floor. Fortunately, they were stored in shatterproof phials, so they were still useable, but they still rolled in all directions.

"Here you go," said a familiar voice, and Fleur looked up to find the person she had bumped into was none other than one of her many brothers-in-law.

"Merci, George! I am so sorry, I was not looking where I was—" she began, accepting the pain relieving potion from him.

"It's nothing," George said, as she hastily stuffed the pregnancy test into her bag. He had been eyeing it rather strangely, but shook himself as though he had been seeing things. "My fault entirely! Are these all for Bill?" he added, gesturing to the potions.

"Yes, 'e is 'aving a bad month zhis month," Fleur said, accepting the hand he offered and standing up gracefully.

George pulled a sympathetic face. "Anything I can do to help?"

"Sadly not, unless you can control zhe moon," Fleur sighed.

Ruefully, George shook his head. "I'm afraid I can't," he admitted. "But seriously – if you need anything at all, get me on the floo and I'll be there."

"I appreciate eet – and I know Bill does too," said Fleur. "Eef you do not mind me asking, zhough, why are you 'ere? Are you ill?"

"No, nothing like that," George said quickly. "I'm just, uh...I have this idea for a new product, at the shop. It's just a simple little thing, still in the planning stages, but I needed to pick up a bunch of ingredients for the potion."

"Oh, right," nodded Fleur. "What ees eet that you are making?"

"I'd rather not say," George replied. "It's not a big thing but it's the first new thing I've invented since...without Fred. Normally, we'd work on stuff together, but with him gone...I don't know, it could be a rubbish idea, but I could always count on Fred to let me know if what I'd come up with was totally pants. But without him..."

"You 'ave to rely on yourself?" asked Fleur. George nodded, but she shook her head at him. "You don't, George! You 'ave all of your family to 'elp you, and—"

"Oh, I know I do – trust me, I couldn't have gotten through the last few months without you lot," George said. "It's just...don't get me wrong, but none of you are exactly what you'd call practical jokers, are you?"

"One time," Fleur replied, a surprisingly evil smile appearing on her pretty face, "I will tell you what I did to zhe Potions teacher's classroom at Beauxbatons. Zhen you will not say zhat!"

"Now that sounds like a story and a half," grinned George. "However, we must save it for another time, because I think old Dobbins here—" he nodded towards the shopkeeper, "wants to shut up for the night, and I'm holding him up. So I'd best get going. Give my best to Bill!"

"I shall," smiled Fleur. "I'm sure I will see you soon, au revoir!"

"You will – on Sunday. Lunch at the Burrow?" he prompted.

"Of course!" replied Fleur. "See you zhen!" She turned and left the shop, wandering back down into the Alley with a smile on her face. Her meeting with George had reminded her of her school days, and the fun she had had with her friends. Perhaps she and Bill could look into taking another holiday in France over the autumn, and she could introduce him to them. They could go out to all the places they used to go when she was younger, and she could introduce him to the wizard club scene in Paris. In France, the age of apparition was sixteen and the law was much more relaxed on alcohol, so she and her friends had spent many nights in the clubs during the holidays. It would be fun to take Bill back there...

The clinking of the bottles in her bag brought her back down to earth. They would be doing nothing of the sort if it turned out she was pregnant... She glanced at her watch. It wasn't quite five o'clock – if she popped into the Leaky Cauldron, which was handily just across the street, she could perform the test and put her mind at rest before she went home to tend to Bill. He certainly didn't need her trying to administer potions to him in the absentminded mood she was in currently.

Stepping inside the pub, she ordered a Butterbeer from the curvaceous blonde working behind the bar (who was attracting quite a lot of attention from the other customers), took the bottle of liquid from her and settled into a rather dark and dingy corner of the pub. She took a sip from the Butterbeer and nearly gagged, spitting it straight back into the bottle. Something was definitely off about it, but for three sickles, it was hardly worth complaining over. Pushing it to one side, she pulled out the phial containing the pregnancy test. According to the instructions, she needed to add a drop of blood to it, wait five minutes and see if it changed colour. If it remained clear, she wasn't pregnant. If it turned green, she was.

Picking up her wand, Fleur transfigured a matchstick into a needle, pricked her finger and added a couple of drops of blood to the potion, before quickly Healing her finger with a wave of her wand. She stared at the potion, before realising how uneasy it was making her, and hid it behind one of the menus.

Waiting for it to take effect was the longest five minutes of her life. She tried another sip of her Butterbeer, but there was definitely something off with it. No one else seemed to be having that problem, she surmised, looking around the pub, where a few early diners were eating and drinking merrily, but then, she reasoned, it could have just been that the charm on her particular bottle that kept the contents fresh had worn off. Once the five minutes were up, she pulled the bottle out from behind the menu with her eyes closed, and then, slowly, opened them.

The contents were green.

No.

There had to be some mistake! Fleur scrabbled around in her bag, before pulling out the parchment containing the instructions. Maybe there was something about double checking, taking another test...but no, printed in big letters across the top were the words "Certified by St. Mungo's Hospital of Magical Maladies and Injuries. 100 per cent accurate. Will never give you a false positive."

So that was it. She was pregnant, then. She got to her feet...

"Mrs. Weasley? Mrs. Weasley, can you hear me?"

Who was calling for her mother-in-law? No, she was Mrs. Weasley now. Were they calling her? She opened her eyes. What was this floor doing, all up close and personal? She shifted her eyes slightly, and saw the concerned face of the barmaid staring down at her. She tried to sit up, but the barmaid laid a surprisingly strong hand on her shoulder, and forced her back.

"Just stay where you are a moment, please," she said kindly. "I think you fainted briefly – just for a moment or two, so I'm sure it's nothing to worry about – but if you sit up too suddenly, you might pass out again." She summoned a cushion and tucked it under Fleur's head gently. "I've sent someone for some water for you. I'm Hannah, by the way."

"I'm Fleur Weasley," Fleur said, feeling faintly ridiculous. "'Ow did you know…?"

"Who you were?" finished Hannah. "Well, you Weasleys are pretty famous now...but also, I was at Hogwarts when you were the Beauxbatons school champion, so I recognised you, and I remembered you were with the other Weasleys at the Battle. I knew Harry, Ron and Hermione, and Ginny a bit too – I was in the same year as the three of them. But enough about me! I need to check you're okay. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions to check you haven't damaged your head?"

Fleur nodded, and Hannah asked her a few questions along the lines of what day it was, and where she was. Once she was satisfied that all was as it should be, she allowed Fleur to sit up and sip a glass of water slowly. "I am terribly sorry for just passing out like zhat," Fleur said, by now heartily embarrassed. "I 'ave never ever done anything like zhat in my entire life before, and—"

"Oh, it's fine, don't you worry," Hannah said. "We all have our moments – and trust me, someone passing out because they forgot to eat lunch or whatever is nothing compared to what I had to deal with last year at school." Fleur smiled and nodded, saying that, yes, she had forgotten to eat lunch, she'd just been so busy, but she would be sure to always do so in the future, having learnt her lesson now. Hannah seemed satisfied by this, though she made her eat a couple of Ginger Newts before she allowed her to go anywhere. "My mother," she said, a cloud seeming to pass over her face as she said the two words—and, given the war they had just come out of, Fleur did not need to ask why—"always recommended Ginger biscuits for nausea and dizziness."

"Well, zhey seem to be working," Fleur said, feeling the biscuits settle the stomach she hadn't realised had become unsettled. "And zhank you so much for zhis, I really am grateful to you."

"Not at all," replied Hannah. "I'm indebted to three Weasleys for saving my life during the war – consider this just the tiniest bit of payback."

Fleur smiled. "Zhank you, sincerely," she said. "Now, I must get going, or my 'usband will be worried." Once Hannah was satisfied that Fleur was able to stand, she took her to the private floo in the kitchens, handing her her bag.

"Everything's in there, and the floo powder's on the shelf there," Hannah said, nodding. "I have to get back out on the bar, but give me a yell if you need anything!" Fleur thanked her once more, before taking a deep breath and a pinch of floo powder.

It was time to go home and tell Bill.

Bill rolled over onto his back, opening his eyes with a sigh of pleasure. There was very little that compared to waking up the morning after a full moon and feeling completely and utterly pain free. He looked over to Fleur's side of the bed, only to find that she wasn't there. Bill looked at the watch on his wrist. It was ten to seven – far too early for her to have gone into work already.

"Strange," he mused.

He got up, stretched, and padded out into the hallway. The door to the guest bedroom was slightly ajar, and he could see a lump in the bed in the shape of his wife. She had obviously gotten sick of him thrashing around in pain in his sleep last night, and headed over there for a good night's rest.

He couldn't blame her. He always asked if she wanted him to go and sleep in the guest room to avoid waking her – his potions helped him sleep, but did nothing for the pain, and she said that he often cried out or jerked around in his sleep because of it – but she always refused, saying that she would stay with him in case he awoke and needed her. But Fleur had been very quiet upon returning from work last night, and, after he questioned her, he discovered that she had taken ill during the day. If she was unwell, she probably wanted a good night's rest, he reasoned, and so heading off to the guest room was probably a wise idea.

Bill headed downstairs to make a pot of tea, and, as an afterthought, heated up two croissants. Bringing his wife breakfast in bed before they had to head off to work was the least he could do to make up for everything she had to put up with. Twenty minutes later, he headed up the stairs, levitating the tray in front of him and casting half an eye over the Daily Prophet's headlines. Fortunately, nothing major seemed to have happened overnight, as the lead headline was something to do with the drummer of the Wyrd Sisters getting married. It was reassuring to see headlines as mundane as that gracing the front pages again.

"Good morning, dear wife," Bill called as he stood on the landing. The curtains in the guest room had been opened, and the pretty September light was streaming in, so it was obvious that Fleur was awake. "I have brought you great gifts of—Fleur! What's wrong?" Hastily setting the tray on the floor, he dashed over to the bed, where his wife was sitting, hands pressed against her stomach, and tears streaming down her face. "Are you ill? Should I called for a Healer?"

Fleur shook her head vigorously, and reached out for his hand. He took it and she squeezed it hard, before looking up at him with her beautiful blue eyes. "I am not ill," she whispered, "I am pregnant."

He was so taken aback for a moment by the suddenness of this announcement that he thought she was joking, but one look at her face told him that she was serious. "Pregnant?" he repeated. "With a baby?"

Fleur gave him a withering look. "Non, with a squirrel," she said. "Oui, une bebe, tu es—"

"No French, it's too early!" he pleaded. "You're really, really pregnant?"

"I am really, really pregnant," Fleur repeated. "Yesterday, I zhought eet was odd zhat I 'ad not 'ad my time of zhe month twice, but I did not really zhink...I was sure I was not pregnant. But I brought a test anyway, just to be positive, and eet told me zhat I am. We are going to 'ave a baby. But," she added, and her eyes grew teary again. "I do not want to! We agreed, eet ees too soon after zhe war, and everything ees so dangerous! What kind of parents would we be, to bring a child into a world like zhis?"

"I won't pretend that everything's perfect," Bill said, summoning the day's paper. "But look at this. Today's Prophet, full of stuff about some celebrity getting married, the Head of Magical Games and Sports retiring and an interview with the Captain of the Harpies. Nothing of any value whatsoever – which, don't get me wrong, totally normal for the Prophet – but it makes a change from 'Rogue Death Eaters running about in your town' or 'Lord Voldemort spotted in café – is he really dead?'. If even they are giving up with the panic inducing headlines, society must be on the mend, right?"

"I suppose," Fleur said doubtfully.

"Nothing's perfect," Bill reiterated. "But things are getting better. And...a baby!" he added, as though the full impact of Fleur's words had just hit him. "We're...we're going to be parents!"

"Eet's terrifying," murmured Fleur. "I do not know 'ow we are supposed to do it!"

"We'll make it up as we go along," Bill said. "After all, it's only going through nine months of whatever on your behalf, then raising a child for eighteen years. How hard can it be?" He gave a slightly manic laugh.

"Don't forget we shall be doing eet een zhe aftermath of zhe most bloody war zhe wizarding world has seen for years, and zhat I am only twenty one," Fleur added, but she was looking down at her stomach with the beginnings of a smile.

"How hard can it be indeed?" repeated Bill. They both laughed rather hysterically. "How...much...pregnant are you?" he asked, clearly struggling with the correct terminology.

"You mean, 'ow far along am I?" she asked, amused. He nodded. "I do not know. Eet ees maybe as much as two months, or a leetle less zhan zhat. I am not sure."

"If we go to St. Mungo's, we can make an appointment for them to tell us, can't we?" asked Bill. She nodded. "We can do that on the way to work, then. If you want to go to work, that is."

"Why wouldn't I?" Fleur asked, confused. "I am pregnant, not an invalid! I take eet you are feeling better than yesterday?"

"I'm fine," Bill said dismissively. "But what about you? Aren't you meant to be throwing up all the time?"

"Do not jinx eet!" Fleur said, her eyes widening. "I do not know when morning sickness or zhe cravings start, but I 'ave not 'ad any yet. Per'aps I won't get zhem at all!" she added hopefully.

"A baby," repeated Bill wondrously, as though he hadn't heard a word his wife had said. "Sorry," he added, apologising quickly. "You must think I'm a right idiot!"

"You are taking zhe news better zhan me," Fleur admitted, a faint flush appearing on her cheeks. Bill gave her a curious look. She squirmed for a moment before admitting, "I passed out in zhe Leaky Cauldron."

"A baby," Bill said, for the hundred and forty-second time (not that Fleur was counting). "A real baby!"

Make that one hundred and forty three times.

"I know," she smiled, shaking her head at her husband. They were sat on a bench in the park at the end of Diagon Alley, surrounded by pretty flutterby bushes and falling leaves. It was another glorious afternoon, which they had both taken off work to go to the hospital together. There, a Healer had congratulated them, telling Fleur she was five and a half weeks pregnant, and gave them a huge bundle of pamphlets designed to guide her through her pregnancy. The Healer had seemed unsurprised that Fleur had not experienced any morning sickness, saying that it was not that uncommon, but that she should not be surprised if she experienced it at any point in the next month and a half. She also gave them a date for the next appointment, when Fleur would be twelve weeks along, when she said she would be able to tell them more about the gender of the baby, and check everything was working as it should be. The appointment had been surprisingly quick, and the couple had apparated to the park before heading home, where Bill continued to express his amazement that they were having a child.

"A real, actual baby!" he said again. "I just...I can't wait to tell everyone! I want to get a banner and proclaim it to the world! Just wait until we tell Mum and—"

"No," Fleur said firmly. "We cannot."

"Why ever not?" Bill asked. "Mum will be thrilled, you know Fred's death has been harder on her than it has on anyone except George. A baby will make her happy, you know it will!"

"A baby will," agreed Fleur, "but I am only five weeks along. Many women miscarry zheir babies at zhis point, and my own mother did many times, so I 'ave a family 'istory of eet. You 'eard what zhe Healer said – we shall not know eef everything ees as eet should be until zhe twelve week appointment. Eef we tell your mother zhat I am pregnant and zhen we lose zhe baby..."

"You're right," Bill said softly. "It'd...well, it wouldn't do her any good at all." There was a pause, before he asked, "Do you think you're in danger of losing the baby?"

Fleur shrugged. "For all I was reluctant to get pregnant, now zhat I am, of course I do not want to lose zhis baby," she said. "But until we know for sure..."

"It's best to keep it to ourselves," finished Bill. "Well," he said, his frown being replaced with a smile, "it will be fun to keep a secret from Mum again. It reminds me of the last secret we had from her!"

"What was zhat?" Fleur asked. He gave her a wink. "Oh!" she recalled, grinning back at him. "You know, I do zhink she suspects about zhe...'ow to say, room swapping.'Eet will get you in an 'ole 'eap of trouble!'" Fleur said, in a surprisingly accurate mimicry of her mother-in-law. "And she was right!" she said, swatting playfully at her husband. "Look at me now!"

"I didn't hear you complaining at the time!" Bill winked, kissing her on the cheek.

"Per'aphs, but zhe minute I get morning sickness," Fleur warned. "You will not 'ear zhe end of eet! I will 'ave your guts for garters, William Arthur Weasley!"

"That, I do not doubt," replied Bill, laughing.

A/N: Don't worry, it's not too much of a spoiler to say that Fleur won't be losing the baby! The eagle eyed amongst you may have spotted that Fleur was turned off alcohol (thinking the Butterbeer was spoiled) – many women report that, upon becoming pregnant (but before 'officially' realising it), they become nauseated by the smell of alcohol and no longer want to drink it. So though she thought she was displaying no symptoms of pregnancy, actually, she was!

I really, really appreciate all the reviews chapter one had, so thank you so much to everyone who reviewed! It would really make my day if you were to do so again (: