The Luckiest Man

Diagon Alley was largely deserted as Harry made his way along the formerly busy street. Since Voldemort's return to power, people had taken to staying indoors as much as possible, venturing out only when necessary. Harry wanted to tell them all that it didn't matter; if Voldemort had you in his sights, locked doors and shuttered windows weren't going to stop him. Harry knew that better than anyone.

The Weasleys hadn't liked the idea of him moving to London all on his own - Mrs. Weasley had been deadset against it - but Harry had been adamant. He was of-age now, seventeen, and he didn't want to think what could happen to the Weasleys if they sheltered him in their house. It was a fragile argument at best - the Weasley family was no doubt already prominent on the Dark Lord's radar, despite their pureblood status - but Harry didn't think it was necessary to put them in even more danger by living with them, and had instead taken a room above the Leaky Cauldron. He tried to pay the first few months in advance, but was rebuffed by Tom, the proprietor. "No need to be getting ahead of ourselves," he'd said. "Who knows where any of us will be a month from now?" He only took money by the week.

Mrs. Weasley's only consolation had come in the form of her eldest son, whom she entrusted with the duty of keeping Harry safe and sound. Bill and Fleur had also moved to London, renting a comfortable flat not far from the Cauldron, and Harry often found himself spending a few hours a day enjoying their company. They'd been married shortly before his birthday, and had honeymooned for two weeks on the beaches of the French Riviera, staying in one of Fleur's private family villas. Bill's scars were still prominent, though thankfully not so red and angry, especially against his suntanned face. Fleur's milk white skin had gone the color of honeyed cream, and her long silver hair seemed to catch the summer sun and refract it like a prism, so that she always walked in a shimmering halo. They made quite a pair, walking down London's streets, holding hands and smiling like it wasn't the end of the world.

Harry thanked God for them everyday.

Fleur's younger sister Gabrielle had come to visit her older sister for the summer, and it was she who answered Harry's knock at the door. "Bonjour, 'Arry!" the eleven-year old girl exclaimed, quickly ushering him into the flat. "How are you today?"

"That was a very good H, Gabrielle," Harry applauded, grinning at the girl's pleased expression.

"I 'ave been working very 'ar- HARD on it," she told him with an eager nod. "Ze silly twins, zey 'ave been 'elp- HELPing me, oui? Zey are fun babysitters. Zey tell me I will be a first-class salesclerk someday, because ze customers, zey will not be able to say no to me." She giggled. "Zey make me laugh."

"That's what they do best," Harry agreed, chuckling. Glancing around, he asked, "Where're Fleur and Bill? I thought they had today off."

Gabrielle bit her lip. "Oui," she hedged.

Harry frowned. "Gabrielle? Is something wrong?"

The young girl shuffled her feet, glancing in the direction of the closed bedroom door. "Fleur told me zat I am not to bozzer zem," she whimpered. "She was vairy angry."

That was strange. Fleur never got angry with Gabrielle. "Angry with you?" Harry asked. When she shook her head, he added, "With who?"

"Wiz ze goblins," she said, in a voice so miserable it made Harry's throat ache.

"The Gringotts goblins?" Harry asked, confused. "They're nasty little buggers, I'll admit, but they've never particularly made me angry. What happened?"

The little girl raised her face to look at him, and he saw that her bright blue eyes were brimming with tears.

"Zey fired Beel," she sniffed.

---

"Because you were bitten by a werewolf!" Fleur howled, her temper making her accent stronger. "Ze fools! Ze buffoons! Zey would not know a werewolf if one bit zem on zeir 'orrible little noses! Aiyah!"

Bill flinched as Fleur hurled an heirloom ballerina made of delicate bone china at the wall, shattering it into a million pieces. Snatching up her wand, she waved it at the broken shards until they reformed into the figurine again. He was glad she'd put a Silencing charm on the door, or poor Gabrielle would probably be sobbing hysterically by now.

"Sweetheart, you have to calm down," he said quietly.

"NON, I will NOT calm down!" She paced frenetically back and forth at the foot of the bed, as if as many footsteps as she could fit into the small area would somehow translate into goblin heads being tacked to their wall. "Zey are foolish, evil, WICKED creatures! I 'ate zem!" She spiraled off into a long, angry diatribe of French cursing that Bill was for once glad he couldn't decipher.

Fleur's rant had been going strong for the last half hour, and she didn't show any sign of slowing down. Bill knew her well enough to know she'd hit the wall soon enough; that even if she wanted to keep screaming at the top of her lungs, eventually she was going to tire herself out and collapse in a tired, angry heap. As a general rule, he found it adorable; she was the only person he knew who could put herself to sleep by arguing. But today he was feeling exhausted himself; he just wanted her to calm down and come sit with him so he could hug her tightly and make himself feel better.

"I will not keep my money in zat bank," she snapped angrily, drawing him out of his reverie. She had stopped her pacing and was now staring out their bedroom window, arms crossed decisively across her stomach. "We will find anuzzer bank."

"There aren't any other wizarding banks here."

"Zen we will go outside of London!"

"I meant in the country, Fleur."

"Zen we will go to France! I do not care!" Spinning around, she fixed him with a furious, hopeless gaze, and he saw with a pang of regret that there were tears in her eyes. "I will not let zose... zose... MONSTERS touch our money after zey 'ave treated you so badly!" She was trembling with rage, her delicate fingers clenched into angry fists.

With a sigh, Bill held out a hand to her. "Come here, Fleur."

"Non! You will try to make me stop being angry!"

"Sweetheart, please?" He even sounded tired to his own ears.

Fleur bit her lip. It wasn't something she did very often; it betrayed too much insecurity. Taking a few short steps in his direction, she gently took his hand and sank down to sit beside him on the bed. After a moment she rested her head on his shoulder and leaned heavily against his side. "Oh Beel," she mumbled unhappily. "Why does no one else see what I see when I see you?"

Bill smiled faintly and craned his neck to kiss the crown of her head. "Because you have better eyes," he murmured.

She lifted her head to rest her chin on his shoulder, gazing up into his eyes. "Zey theenk you are a werewolf," she murmured, "but we know zat you are not. We KNOW zis, but zey will not listen. Why will zey not listen, Beel?"

"Because it's easier not to," he sighed, rubbing her back. She rested her cheek again on his shoulder, one hand sliding forward to rub circles on his stomach. "People are scared of werewolves. They're bad for business, and goblins don't care about anything but business. Nobody knows what I am anymore, but I have to be something, and if they've decided that something is a werewolf, then that's what I'm going to be." Fleur made an unhappy little grunt, and he kissed her temple. "It's okay, sweetheart. I'll get another job."

"Where?" She sounded despondent.

"Hogwarts is going to need teachers," he soothed, stroking her hair. "Anyone sending their children back will trust McGonagall's judgment. If she hires me, they wouldn't complain. Or," he added with a grin, "I could go work for Fred and George. I'm sure they need someone with some derring-do to track down new, volatile ingredients for their pranks. I already helped them get their hands on some Egyptian vanishing dust."

She hummed in silent agreement.

"So see? It'll be fine. I'll find something else."

"So will I," she said with determination.

Bill smiled. "Yeah? What are you going to do?"

"Eh, I will find somezing," she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. She would, too, that was the amazing thing. With a face like hers and her veela charms, she could find work anywhere she wanted; even the Minister of Magic's office. Actually, that could come in handy for the Order.

"Perhaps I will find work wiz Scrimgeour," she murmured, as if reading his mind; as if she could just walk into the Minister's office and demand a job. "I could per'aps 'elp make legislation zat would make t'ings less 'ard on werewolves, oui?"

Bill grinned. "I'd tell you to run for office, but I'd feel sorry for the other guy. He wouldn't stand a chance."

Fleur giggled and smiled at him. "Zat would be somezing, no? A veela in office, and 'er 'usband 'oo is NOT a werewolf. We would be very progressive."

"Very."

She sighed, resting her weight on him again. "Oh bozzer," she mumbled.

Bill grinned. "Tired?"

"Oui." She snuggled against him.

"That's what happens when you yell so much. It always makes you sleepy." He laughed when she petulantly poked his leg. "What? It's not my fault."

"You do not 'ave to sound so 'appy about it," she pouted.

"I think it's cute," he murmured into her hair, kissing the top of her head.

She batted him away. "Pah, I am not cute," she complained. "I 'ave not been cute since I was Gabrielle's age."

Yawning, she swung her legs up to bridge his lap, wrapping her arms loosely around his neck. "Put me to bed," she murmured sleepily, tucking her face into his neck.

Bill laughed out loud. "If you're so grown up you can't be cute, then why am I putting you to bed?"

"Because you love me and I adore you." She nuzzled his neck. "And because I am sleepy because of you."

"How is it my fault you're sleepy?"

Raising her head slightly, she kissed his jaw. "Because if you 'ad not been so brave at 'Ogwarts, I would not 'ave 'ad to be angry today," she murmured. Smiling, she patted his shoulder. "But I would not 'ave you any uzzer way, mon amour."

Bill sighed. "I'm going to do it, aren't I? Put you to bed?"

A sleepy nod. "Oui."

"Should I bother arguing that you're old enough to do it yourself?"

"No."

Grinning, Bill hooked his arm under her knees, wrapping his other around her back, and stood up with her cradled against his chest. Fleur cooed, snuggling comfortably into his embrace. "You are very strong and comfortable," she purred.

"Just a nap for you," Bill told her softly, laying her down on her side of the bed and tucking a crocheted afghan around her. "The day's still young, and you promised Gabrielle you'd take her shopping for dress robes."

Fleur groaned. "Gabrielle," she mumbled. "I was cross wiz her..."

"Shhh..." Bill kissed her gently, stroking her face. "I'll go make her some lunch. You know she loves those Muggle condensed soups."

Fleur opened her eyes enough to give him a disapproving look. "Zose t'ings are 'orrible," she complained.

Bill grinned. "So are a lot of things kids like to eat. Now are you going to sleep, or did I just carry you all this way for nothing?"

"All zis way? It was three steps!"

"Three steps you could have made yourself."

Fleur huffed at him and snuggled under the afghan. "Shush, I am sleeping," she said, voice muffled by the blanket.

Bill grinned. "Sweet dreams." Stroking her hair once more, he stood up and headed for the door.

"Beel?"

He stopped and looked back. Fleur was watching him sleepily over her shoulder. "Yes?" he asked.

"I love you."

He smiled. "I love you, too."

Satisfied, she gave a little nod before turning away to snuggle under the blanket once again. Bill waited until he was sure she didn't need anything else, then quietly slipped away.

---

"So what are you going to do?" Harry asked as they sat at the kitchen table. Gabrielle sat across from them, eagerly slurping up her Cream of Mushroom soup.

Bill sighed. "I have no idea," he admitted. "I told Fleur a couple of options, but..." He shook his head. "I don't know. Things are too out of sorts right now. Everyone's afraid."

"I can't blame them."

"Neither can I. That just makes it harder; I wish I could."

Gabrielle looked up from her soup and gave Bill a beaming smile. "I theenk you are wonderful, Beel," she enthused, bouncing a little in her chair.

He gave her a small smile. "Thanks, pumpkin."

"You know, you do have an ace in the hole, Bill," Harry offered.

"What's that?"

Harry waved his hand vaguely in the air. "Well... Me," he said, obviously embarrassed. "The Boy Who Lived, remember? I mean, I don't know what I could do, but I could... I don't know, write you a letter of recommendation? I mean, if I have to be famous, it might as well be for a good cause, right?"

Bill laughed and clapped Harry on the shoulder. "Don't worry about it, Harry," he replied kindly. "I'm a grown man. I'll figure something out on my own. If worse comes to worst, like I told Fleur, I could go work for Fred and George."

"OOH!" Gabrielle exclaimed. "Oui! Yes! Zen I will be able to show you 'ow to stock ze cartons of Essploding Snap so zey do not blow your hand off!"

"Sounds like fun, kiddo," Bill laughed.

"You're handling this a lot better than most people would," Harry said. "I think I'M angrier than you are. Why is that?"

Bill thought about it for a moment as he watched Gabrielle set down her spoon and bring the soup bowl to her lips, gulping down the last few spoonfuls in very unladylike fashion.

"Well here's the thing, Harry," Bill said evenly. "I have the best family in Britain. I'm married to the most beautiful woman I've ever met. I love her madly and she loves me right back. I've got a sister-in-law who's a dab hand at handling dangerous implements of mass entertainment, and who thinks I'm wonderful taboot." He winked at Gabrielle as she giggled. "I'm a member of the Order, which means I'm doing important things in this damned war. I survived a werewolf attack with just a faceful of scars. And to top it all off, I'm friends with Harry Potter."

He smiled, toying thoughtfully with his wedding band.

"When you put it all together," he said, "I think I'm the luckiest man alive."

THE END