Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Arithmancy - Assignment 4 - Number One, represents death)

Written for Journey through Hogwarts Challenge (Gringotts - write about Bill Weasley)

Making the Most of a Bad Situation

Bill Weasley sat in a chair by the hospital bed, admiring the pretty blonde woman lying in it. She looked so peaceful, so gracious, as she slept.

He could remember the day he had first laid eyes on her, the first time he had had the chance to be near her. He had thought her the most precious being this world had ever created. It had been love at first sight, he had fallen head-over-heels and nothing had changed since that moment.

Eighteen years together had brought him nothing but joy and happiness, and now, after such a short time, she was here. The Healers said she only had a few more days at best. She was strong, they told him. Most wouldn't last a day from the Muggle illness that had claimed her body.

Words could not express the love he had for such a beautiful woman. Her smile lit up the whole house whenever she was around. The whole family adored every inch of her, and he… he would do absolutely anything for her. If he could take her place – if he could be the one so close to death right – he would do it in a heartbeat. Her life was much more valuable than his own.

Eighteen years seemed much too short a time. He wanted longer. What was it they had said? Meningitis? Couldn't a potion cure such an affliction?

He sighed, kissing the blonde woman's forehead. They had at least managed to give her an anti-contagion potion, meaning he could still be near her without getting it.

"I love you," he said softly, hoping she could hear him. "I love you so much."

…

"Look how well they play together, Bill."

They sat in two chairs outside the house, watching as their daughters played by the water. Fleur had Louis on her lap, who seemed to think her bracelet was food.

Bill smiled. "They'll be even closer when they're older," he said. His daughters were as beautiful as their mother, yet as different from each other as two sisters could get. Victoire had inherited the white-blonde Veela hair Fleur had. She was feisty and bad-tempered, but was strong-willed and determined at the same time. Dominique was a Weasley through and through. From the colour of her hair down to the red face when she was angry. Everything about her took after her father.

Yet, no matter how different his two beautiful girls were, they adored each other.

He smiled again, looking to his wife.

"We did well," he said.

…

He couldn't believe it was nearing the end of her life. She was still so young, so beautiful. There was so much more she could do, yet here she was, unconscious in a hospital bed, most likely to never wake again.

Of all the things that had gone wrong with his family over the years – of all the pain they had all been through – this felt like the Devil throwing another something at them he would just have to dodge.

This was different, though; this hurt more. He had barely dealt with losing his own brother all those years ago, but this was probably worse. Fred's death had happened so suddenly, but her life was slowly wilting away like a flower in the sun. Soon, all of its petals will have fallen off and he would be left with a broken heart.

It hurt more because he knew it would come. It terrified him because he didn't know when. What if that breath she had just taken was her last?

He watched, the moments seeming to drag out, until finally her chest lifted again, an indicator that she was at least still alive.

"I hope you feel no pain, my darling," he said. "It's all I want."

…

Victoire had received her Hogwarts letter – finally, according to her – and as the new school year was only a month away they had decided to take her to Diagon Alley to buy her wand.

They rarely got an outing with all five of them, so Bill and Fleur had decided to treat their children with a stop at the ice-cream parlour first.

"Strawberry!" Victoire said.

"Chocolate and mint and… and honey!" Dominique added.

"Choco-late." Louis pointed through the glass display.

Bill and Fleur both smiled, Bill ruffling his eldest daughter's hair.

"Whatever you want, kids," he said, taking out some coins. "Our treat."

He couldn't remember ever seeing his whole family as delighted as they were that day. After that, Victoire went off to Hogwarts, followed by Dominique and eventually Louis.

The house became rather quiet.

…

"I'm sorry, Mr Weasley, but our tests show that she is brain dead."

"Can you do something to fix it?"

The young Healer shook her head, pity etching her face. "I'm sorry," she said again.

"What does that mean?"

"It means she will not wake up again. That it is the enchantments in this room keeping her alive. That is all."

Bill shook his head, not daring to believe what he was hearing. No, this could not be happening. They had given her a few more days, not a few more hours. His family hadn't even had the chance to say goodbye properly. He had sent them home, urging them to get some rest, and telling them to come back in the morning. If he had known…. He shook his head again. "No," he whispered.

"I'm sorry."

He returned to the chair beside the bed, picking up her hand. He pressed his lips to the soft skin, blinking back tears. She was everything to him – everything and more. The things he would have done for her….

"Can you notify my family?" he asked after a moment, not even looking at the Healer. "Let them know to come and say goodbye?"

"Of course." The Healer disappeared from the room and it was just Bill and her again.

Tears began to roll down his cheeks.

…

"Mummy, have you seen Victoire?" Little red-haired Dominique bounded up to Fleur, who was helping Bill's mother peel potatoes. They were at the Burrow – the annual Weasley Christmas lunch where everyone had to come – and while they waited, the children were playing hide-and-seek outside.

"No, Dominique, I 'ave not," Fleur responded, sounding almost bored.

A fit of laughter came from under the table where Bill and Percy were sitting. Dominique's eyes widened and her red hair appeared under the table.

"I found you, Vicky!" she cried, startling Percy with how loud she could actually be.

Victoire poked her head out and glared at Bill. "You told her!" she accused.

Bill's eyes widened. "I did not!" he answered defensively. "You have to stay quieter."

The nine-year-old frowned, but her younger sister tugged on her arm. "Let's find the others," she said, and they were gone again.

Bill smiled fondly after them, and then at his wife.

Percy blinked. "Have you taught them an inside voice?" he questioned.

From the kitchen bench, Fleur laughed. "They're Weasleys," she said. "Will zey ever be quiet?"

…

In ran Dominique, tears streaming down her face as she threw her arms around her father. "What happened?" she cried.

Bill shook his head, holding her tight. "I don't know," he confessed. "They said… they said she was brain dead." He choked on his words, holding his middle child tightly.

Next followed Louis, looking very solemn. He looked at the woman on the bed, his face paling. Bill reached for him also, drawing him close.

"Where's your mother?" he asked, looking over them for his wife to walk through the door.

Mumbling into his shirt, Dominique said, "She's coming, Dad. She'll be here."

Bill nodded. He let go and turned back to the young woman on the hospital bed. Swallowing a lump in his throat, he pressed his lips to her forehead, whispering so only she could hear – he knew she could hear him, no matter what the Healer said.

"I love you, Victoire. I always will."

Eighteen years had not been nearly long enough, but… but they had been the best eighteen years of his life.

"I will always love you."

I'm not sure why I chose to kill off Victoire...

On a different note, I started writing this days before Chicago Fire came back and then (for anyone who watches...) THAT happened and... *sobs* That's too much character death for me to handle in one day I think.