Joyeux Noëll
***WARNING: DH SPOILERS***
Challenge Fifteen: Deathly Hallows Missing Scenes
Title: Joyeux Noëll
Author: ladywhitehart
Wizard/Witch: Bill Weasley/Fleur Weasley
Rating/Warnings: G/PG
Genre: Romance/Romance
Word count:854
DH Chapter: Chapter Seventeen: Bathilda's Secret
Summary: Ignoring the stark reality of the war, Bill and Fleur enjoy their first Christmas as husband and wife.
In spite of all the ugliness in the wizarding world, Shell Cottage had been transformed into a lovely Yuletide haven. Fleur had spent most of Christmas Eve day in the kitchen. The results of her labors included a large basket heaped with tins containing homemade chocolates and cookies for every member of the Weasley family, two tourtieres, and a bûche de Noël, complete with candy mushrooms, sugared leaves, and Christmas elves.
During that time, Bill had done his best to distract her by using a Hover Charm on a sprig of mistletoe and kissing her at every opportunity. After a while when Fleur insisted that she must finish her preparations, he decided that the best way to help was by keeping out of her way, setting the table for the evening meal, and putting up the tiny Christmas tree. .
"Bill, should I pack zee two bottles of wine Papa gave us?" Fleur asked her husband as she stood in the archway between the kitchen and the main room. Her cooking was finished, and her kitchen was finally tidy once more.
Bill's scarred face smiled at his wife. "I don't see why not. Mum will be glad to have more than enough, and Auntie Muriel never turns down a good glass of anything. Now come here and take a break."
Fleur glided over to him with her usual grace, only to ruin the effect by slumping exhaustedly on the sofa. Realizing it was a half of an hour until midnight, she stared at the clock on the mantle in dismay. Where had the day gone? With a contented sigh tinged with weariness, she gazed around at their tiny-yet-cosy home with the boughs of holly tied with red bunting hanging over the windows and the tree bedecked with ribbons, tea roses, and live fairies. The overall result was nothing short of charming. Right here and now everything was quiet and serene, so different compared to the lively Christmas Eves of the past with her family in France. She was content with this far more subdued atmosphere. Tomorrow they would join the rest of the family for Christmas Day and dinner and (knowing Fred and George)a bit of holiday mayhem. But unlike last year, she was looking forward to it. Tonight, however, would be enjoyed by just the two of them
"The sapin de Noël looks most lovely," she said, giving a nod of approval at the tree with a pair of small packages beneath it.
Bill slipped his arm around and drew her close. "Thank you. It isn't much, but I don't mind."
She didn't mind either. For now it was enough that both of them were alive and well. Her delicate fingers reached up to trace the scars left on his face months earlier by that werewolf. To some they were horrible disfigurements on a once handsome face, but to her they were badges of courage and stark reminders as to how fortunate they were. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply.
When they parted, Bill asked, "Are you hungry?"
Amazingly, even after looking at and preparing food all day, the young wife discovered she had an appetite. She nodded, and her husband disappeared into the kitchen. In his absence, Fleur grew restless and wandered around the room, adding another log to the fire, rearranging santons of the crèche and straightening the angel on top of the tree. The angel had round baby cheeks, golden ringlets, and sparkling blue eyes. A child... The one thing she longed for but could not yet have. They had agreed that it would be very unfair to bring a baby into the world such as it was.
Fleur quickly dabbed at her damp eyes with the corner of her ruffled apron, but not before Bill returned, carrying a tray laden with wine, bread, and cheese.
"Is everything all right?"
She turned and smiled engagingly. "It eez nothing."
Her husband looked at her critically; he clearly wasn't convinced. "Please be honest."
"I 'ope to someday 'ave a reason for Père Noël to veesit our 'ome," Fleur said as she adjusted the red and gold ribbons on the tree.
Bill was silent for far too long. Fleur was about to apologize when he asked, "What if our children are like Fred and George?"
She couldn't help but laugh. "Then I theenk we can expect to see more of Père Fouettard than Père Noël."
Resuming their places on the sofa, they shared laughter, food, and drink. For a shining moment, it seemed like there was nothing as horrible as a war going on. It was only the two of them and their love on a peaceful Christmas Eve.
The clock on the mantle chimed twelve time. Fleur took Bill's hands in hers. "Joyeux Noëll, Bill."
"Happy Christmas, Fleur," Bill replied, kissing his wife.
He rose to his feet and stretched before extending his hand to her. With their arms around each other, Bill and Fleur quietly descended the small flight of stairs to their bedroom where the sprig of mistletoe was hovering, waiting for their arrival.
Author's Notes: At some point I just knew my decision to not take French would come back to bite me on the bum. Thankfully my sister, Melissa, took it and was coerced kindly volunteered to proof-read.
I tried to put the French in context, but in case anyone is interested:
Joyeux Noëll=Merry Christmas
tourtieres=a meat pie made from a combination of beef and pork
bûche de Noël=a rolled cake that resembles a Yule log
sapin de Noël=Christmas tree
crèche=Nativity scene
santons=the figures for the crèche
Père Noël=the good spirit who gives the gifts, Santa Claus
Père Fouettard=the one who spanks the naughty children
Proof-reader: Many thanks to Melissa for proof-reading.