#welsh remus

For the blood that had run down her legs three days ago. For the baby they had been planning to tell Bill's parents about the next day. The one they'd never meet.

She barely made it through dinner and speeches before she was trembling, panic gripping her as if she could feel the enemy approaching. Bill had guided her away, murmuring reassurances in her ear as he led her with a gentle hand on her waist, Victoire perched on his hip.

He had spent the better part of the night holding Fleur as she wept against his chest, her quiet sobs muffled against his shoulder. Victoire lay stretched out by his side, blissfully unaware of her mother's tears.

They had dozed sleepily, listening to the joyful sounds drifting from the marquee. He had run his fingers through her hair and she had kissed his battle scars. They had held each other, crying softly together over everyone and everything they had lost.

Now, in the dimly lit kitchen, he stood by the hob, allowing the kettle to heat without magic. He didn't mind waiting.

He ran a hand through his hair, watching the kettle as if it held some answers.

Behind him, the kitchen door clicked opened. He turned to see Remus stumbling over the threshold, gripping the doorframe for balance. He dropped his head and let out a long breath as he braced himself for the trek up the stairs.

“Fun night?” Bill quipped, smiling despite his mournful exhaustion. Remus squinted at him, swaying slightly.

“If you say so,” he replied, his mouth quirking wryly. He dropped into the nearest chair, propping his elbows on the table. He lowered his head to his hands, looking like he was trying to stop the room from spinning.

“Tea?” Bill offered, glad for the distraction. “I'm making chamomile for Fleur.” Remus shook his head with a vague groan, his face still buried behind his long fingers.

Bill poured two cups of the herbal tea, leaving them to steep on the counter. He slid into the seat across from Remus, looking at the older man thoughtfully.

“You look like you could use something stronger than tea,” Bill said, his tone gentle but with a slight edge of concern.

Remus gave a short, bitter laugh. “I’ve had enough of that for one night.”

Bill smirked. “I was referring to an emetic potion,” he said smugly. Remus snorted behind his hands, giggling drunkenly.

“I'd deserve it,” he said with a laugh in his voice. Bill smiled, though part of him thought it might actually be a good idea.

Remus’ laughter died, his shoulders drooping as his giddiness faded. Outside, the music thrummed, bursts of laughter cutting through the rumble. Bill's smile faltered.

“How was the reception?” he asked, unable to keep a note of sadness from his voice. He wished he had seen the newlyweds dance.

Remus frowned behind his hands. He was silent for a moment before lifting his head to look blearily at Bill.

“I heard Fleur crying earlier,” he said unexpectedly, sounding as though he was making some sort of confession. Bill was a bit taken aback, but he nodded sadly. There seemed no point denying it.

“Is she okay?” Remus rasped, looking genuinely concerned. Bill smiled sadly.

“She will be,” he sighed, leaning against the counter. “She's just -” He didn't want to use the word ‘traumatized,’ but he was at a loss for a better word.

“Today just brought up a lot of bad memories,” he said simply. He didn't mention the nightmares that had plagued her the past few weeks, the teary episodes that she couldn't even explain to herself.

Remus nodded, his gaze distant. "That's understandable," he muttered quietly, his voice thick with understanding. He seemed to curl into himself as he spoke, the weight of his own losses pressing down on him again. He stared at his ring with hard eyes, spinning it around his finger.

Looking as though he had been gripped by a sudden thought, he turned his face back up to Bill, his face lined with compassion.

“Are you okay?”

Bill wasn't sure why the question caught him so off-guard. Perhaps because he wasn't sure of the answer. He thought for a moment before sighing.

“I will be.”

Remus nodded knowingly, tapping his fingertips together nervously, visibly searching his mind for a new subject.

“Victoire was very cute today,” he said lamely. Bill smiled, grateful for the shift in topic.

"Yeah, she's got a way of stealing the spotlight. Takes after her mum, I think." He chuckled softly and Remus smiled fondly.

“I'm afraid Teddy might try to steal some of that spotlight," Remus said, a small laugh escaping him despite the heaviness in his voice. “He's a bit of a glutton for attention.”

Bill chuckled. “They're quite the pair,” he said fondly, leaning back in his chair. “Who knows - in twenty years or so, we might be sitting here celebrating their wedding!” he joked, smiling at the notion. Remus returned the smile but his eyes were mournful. He dropped his gaze back to his hands.

“I doubt I'll still be around by then.”

Bill's smile faltered, his chest tightening. "Don't say that," he said, more forcefully than he intended.

Remus huffed a dry laugh, shaking his head and forcing his face into a self-deprecating smile.

"Sorry, ignore me - I'm just drunk." His fingers twisted the wedding band on his left hand, the gold catching the dim candlelight. Something flashed across his face for the briefest moment, but Bill recognized it right away. Fear.

He leaned forward. “Er - you're not, you know…” Remus frowned in confusion. Bill sighed, hesitant to voice the question. “You're not thinking of -”

Realization dawned on Remus’ face and he shook his head reassuringly. “No - I'm actually pretty good these days.” His face became almost comically earnest as Bill gave him a doubtful look. He sighed and rolled his eyes. “This hasn't been my best day,” he admitted. “But I really am doing better.”

Bill nodded, choosing to believe him. “I'm really glad to hear that,” he said. “But what did you mean -” He dropped his voice, as if they might be overheard. “You're not sick, are you?”

Remus hesitated a moment before cracking a smile. “Not unless you count the blood curse,” he laughed, rising to his feet suddenly and shuffling towards the door. Bill raised his eyebrows, watching Remus over his shoulder.

“Going to bed?” he chuckled, wondering if Remus realized he had just left in the middle of their conversation. Remus reached out a hand to steady himself against the door to the den.

“Yeah,” he mumbled absently, as if the weight of the night had finally caught up with him. There was a thoughtful pause before he took a sharp breath.

“Hey,” Remus said, turning to face Bill again, his face full of compassion. “I'm sorry today was so hard for you.”

Bill smiled in sad gratitude. He was debating whether to return the sentiment when, to his surprise, Remus opened his arms and stepped forward.

He didn't think he had ever seen Remus reach out to hug anyone, excepting when Teddy was born. He didn't seem to know quite what to do with his arms, though that could very well have been the alcohol.

Bill's mouth twitched as he stood and stepped into the offer of comfort, returning the gentle pat on the back. He could smell the party on Remus’ shirt - that indescribable scent of floor polish and alcohol and warm bodies that hung in the air as everyone celebrated.

Remus broke the hug, stepping back and making a face like he had surprised himself. He offered Bill a final smile that was somehow both kind and uncomfortable.

“Goodnight, Bill.”