A/N: This is my first fic for the Gift-Giving Extravaganza 2013 - I'll be writing a fic as a gift for someone once a month throughout 2013. This is for Jess (autumn midnights), and I'm writing Bill/Fleur which is a first for me, so I hope it's okay and that you enjoy it!

As always, I make no claims to Harry Potter.

It hadn't been the wedding Fleur had always dreamed of, that much was certain. In other circumstances, she would have been absolutely horrified at the thought of getting married in a tent in the Weasleys' back garden, and the whole thing had been horribly rushed - many of her relatives had been unable to make it over from France, and the rare bouquet she'd been desperate for was out of the question.

However, she knew that there was nothing anyone could do about it. It wasn't ideal, but it was the middle of a war; if she hadn't married Bill then, they might not have had another opportunity. She simply had to make do.

But as she walked down the aisle towards her fiancé and saw his battle-worn face light up at the sight of her, she didn't feel like she was 'making do' at all. The feeling of stolen joy in the midst of a time of chaos and destruction was like nothing she'd ever experienced before; she'd never felt so deliriously happy in her life.

It wasn't to last, of course. They'd had time to say their vows and a little time to celebrate and bask in the atmosphere of the day, but then the Patronus arrived and changed everything.

Panic ensued as people pushed past each other, looking to get themselves, their family and their friends to safety. Fleur stood frozen to the spot. How could this be happening? Why could it not have been any other day? A tear began to roll down her cheek.

Bill wiped it off tenderly, before saying, "Come," and holding out his arm, which Fleur grasped onto tightly.

By unspoken agreement, he'd Apparated them to Shell Cottage rather than the Paris hotel where they were meant to be starting their honeymoon. They couldn't possibly go off to France now. Not without knowing if their loved ones were alright.

"I'm sorry it had to happen like this," Bill said sadly as they surveyed the beautiful scenery and the house they'd be living in, one week too early. "We'll go to France sometime. I promise, mon sherry."

Fleur laughed despite everything; Bill was adorable when he tried. "Chérie," she corrected with the proper French pronunciation. "And eet's ma, because I am a girl."

"Damn!" he exclaimed in disappointment. "I'll get it eventually. I'll be able to speak French to you one day."

"I will look forward to zat, mon chéri," Fleur giggled, wrapping her arms around her new husband and kissing him passionately. Everything might not have gone to plan, but she still had Bill, and if there was only one amazing thing about Bill Weasley, it was his ability to make Fleur feel like everything was going to be alright, no matter what.

Bill pulled away, far sooner than Fleur would have liked. "Hey, there'll be plenty of time for that later," he said, tapping her on the nose cheekily. "Now, Mrs Weasley, shall we go into our new home?"

"Do not call me zat," Fleur complained, making a face. "Eet reminds me of your muzzer."

But they both knew that she really loved it. Fleur had never thought she'd marry a man like Bill Weasley, and the wedding was certainly nothing like she'd imagined, but as he lifted her over the threshold and into their new life together, Fleur could think of nowhere she'd rather be, and no-one she'd rather be with.

"You still 'aven't told me where we are going," Fleur grumbled. "I 'ave to work today."

It was a couple of months after the war, and things were finally starting to slowly go back to normal. The damage was mostly repaired, the trials and funerals were over with and they were back at work; things were finally falling back into place.

Bill shook his head. "I got you the day off."

"But why?" Fleur exclaimed, exasperated. She liked to have plans, and Bill knew that. It stressed her when she didn't know what was happening.

"Wait and see," Bill said, smiling mysteriously. "Patience never killed anyone."

"Zat's what you think," she muttered, but, deciding that moaning wasn't going to get her anywhere, she obligingly took hold of Bill's outstretched arm so he could Apparate them to wherever they were going.

And she couldn't have been more glad that she did when they emerged amid the bustling traffic of Paris, the Eiffel Tower looming over them.

"I lied when I said I got you the day off work. I got you the whole week off. We're going on our honeymoon."

Bill looked slightly taken aback as Fleur flung her arms around him, showering him in kisses. "Merci, Bill. Merci beaucoup," she said as he blushed and attempted to wipe the lipstick marks off his face. "Je t'aime."

"Je t'aime aussi."

There was something about her husband speaking in her native tongue in her native country that made her heart race.