Lakeside

Bill is tired of people telling him not to go, that he isn't up to this. He has had enough of the hospital wing, of being ill, of not making his own choices. He is going to the funeral, and then he and Fleur are going home.

But he is weaker than he cares to admit, and is glad of Fleur's arm supporting him as they make their slow way along the corridor and down the staircase. His parents and the twins are waiting for them in the entrance hall. He has not seen Fred and George since the attack, and he sees the shock on their faces as they look up and see his scars for the first time. He cannot blame them. He still feels like that himself whenever he catches a glimpse of his altered face in the mirror. (He does not look any more – that first time was enough.)

Still, the twins being the twins, they cannot help making a joke of it. Fred punches him lightly on the arm when he and Fleur reach them and says, "Well, at least no one can deny that I'm the best looking Weasley now!" Fleur and his mother glare at Fred, but Bill doesn't mind. If the twins are making jokes, then things are normal, and "normal" is something he could do with more of right now. All the same, he is uncomfortably aware of the twins following him and Fleur closely on the way down to the lakeside, knowing that they are watching him, worrying about him. (Which isn't right – he is their elder brother, and they are the ones who get into trouble all the time. It should be him worrying about them.) But he is grateful for George's hand grabbing his arm when he does stumble, and more so for the quiet, "Steady! It's a bit early in the day to be drunk!" which accompanies it and makes light of his weakness.

They reach the ranks of chairs by the lakeside and Bill and Fleur follow his parents into a row. The twins slide into some chairs behind them. A man and woman whom Bill does not know come to the end of the row and look along it as if they will sit there. Bill sees the woman start and stare as she sees his face, her mouth open in a mixture of revulsion and fascination. She touches the man's arm and says something, and they move to sit elsewhere. Bill is surprised at how much this hurts. He is not stupid; he had expected people to react to his scars, but he had not realised how bad he would feel when it happened. Fleur is glaring at the couple with a mixture of anger and contempt, and he feels her hand tighten on his. He smiles at her gratefully, and she drops her head onto his shoulder. She does not say anything. There is nothing to say. They are both going to have to get used to this.

The funeral begins, and Bill tries to concentrate, to follow what is happening. But his scars are hurting, and the sun is too bright after days indoors, and he cannot really believe that this is happening. Perhaps it is because he was unconscious when the news came or because he did not hear the phoenix lament as the others did, but Dumbledore's death still seems remote and unreal to him. He tunes out the words of the presiding wizard and looks at the others in the crowd instead. He sees Ron and Ginny amongst the crowd of students near the front, and on the other side Percy, part of the Ministry delegation. Suddenly and unexpectedly, he wishes that Charlie was there.

There is a flash, and a white marble tomb appears where Dumbledore's body lay. It is over. Bill becomes aware that Fleur is crying quietly beside him and puts his arm around her and draws her close. She recovers quickly enough and wipes her eyes, pulling away from him and giving him a watery smile.

"I am sorry," she says. "That was stupide of me. I barely even knew 'im, but 'e was kind to me during ze tournament." She wipes her eyes, and looks at Bill worriedly. "I should go and speak wiz Madame Maxime," she says. "Will you be alright wizout me for a few minutes, chéri?"

Bill suppresses his irritation at the way she thinks he needs looking after every minute and smiles. "I'll be fine," he assures her. She walks away and disappears behind a group of people, leaving him alone.

Suddenly, the crowd parts and someone approaches. He hears a gasp and finds himself face to face with Percy, who is regarding him with horror and dismay. Bill gets to his feet slowly, totally at a loss as to what to say. He is torn between wanting to greet his brother and wanting to hit him. But Percy gives him the chance to do neither. He stammers something incomprehensible, turns on his heel and struts off. Bill feels the world spinning around him and puts out his hand to the back of the nearest chair to stop himself from falling. There is a touch on his arm, and his mother is beside him, looking concerned.

"Bill dear?" she says. "Sit down. You'll be alright in a minute." He lets her help him into a chair, all the while wondering if she too saw Percy. But she says nothing about it, merely patting his arm and looking at him worriedly as she sits down beside him. "There's my brave boy," she murmurs, and he laughs.

"Mum!" he protests. "I'm not six!"

His mother chuckles shamefacedly, and dabs at her eyes. "I know, dear," she admits. "But you're always my little boy, you know. All of you are…" her voice trails off and Bill sees her looking in the direction Percy disappeared in.

"He'll come back, Mum," he says quietly. "Sooner or later. You brought us up too well, you and Dad, for him to be a prat forever."

His mother's mouth twists and her eyes flood with tears and she leans forward and kisses him. "I hope so, dear," she says.

Suddenly, Bill is aware that Fleur is beside him, her hand on his shoulder. His mother looks up at her. "Take care of him, won't you?" she asks, and Bill's protests are forestalled by Fleur's calm and confident, "Of course I shall," as he stands and takes her hand in his.

They are going home.