Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
~
September 1998
"Sh sh sh, it's okay..." Bill ran his hand over Eleanora's back and reached over to wipe a tear off of her face with his thumb. "It was only a dream..."
"No it wasn't," Eleanora sobbed, the image of Fred's lifeless face still seared into her mind. "It wasn't..." Her breath hitched and she buried her face in Bill's chest, her tears dampening the fabric of his t-shirt.
"I know," Bill whispered, wrapping his arms around her tightly and feeling a lump form in his own throat. All he wanted was to take the pain away from Eleanora. He'd take it all on himself if he could, just for the chance to see her the way she was before. One of his hands ran through her knotted hair, gently untangling it as Eleanora cried. Oddly enough, he felt sort of proud in a way. It had been three nights since Eleanora's last nightmare, and two since his. Even months after the battle, the small victories were what mattered.
The last summer had been absolute hell for everyone, but after sending Daisy back to Hogwarts for her third year and seeing how the rest of the wizarding world was recovering, Eleanora and Bill decided it was time. Time to stop hiding, to stop letting the sadness consume them, to finally learn how to adjust to the world the way it was without Fred Weasley and Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks and the countless others they'd lost in the war. Eleanora still visited George everyday, but recently she hadn't been alone. Angelina Johnson had been showing up at the Burrow almost as much as Eleanora, usually bringing food or baked goods or news from the outside world. Seeing her sit with George for hours, sometimes in silence, sometimes talking in a soft and easy tone set Eleanora at ease. She felt better about leaving George alone for longer periods of time, and was overjoyed every time he came out of his shell a bit and showed glimpses of the old George. It made her feel like someday they might be okay.
"What time is it?" Eleanora asked when she finally recovered from the nightmare.
Bill checked his watch and sighed. "Six. Want to go back to sleep?"
Eleanora shook her head. "No point. I'd probably have another dream anyways. Did you want to?"
"No," said Bill. He hoisted himself out of bed and stretched, rubbing at his tired eyes. Eleanora watched him, the slightest of smiles slipping onto her face. She climbed out of bed after him, stumbling slightly and catching herself at the last second. "Easy there," Bill chuckled, steadying her. "You want breakfast?"
"Sure." She followed Bill downstairs and started making coffee while he cracked eggs on the skillet and toasted bread. She remembered the first time he'd ever attempted to make him food, when she'd made fun of him for not knowing how to cook. It felt like so long ago that they'd danced in the kitchen of the Burrow, but at the same time she felt like nothing had changed between them. Bill was the only constant in her life, the only place where she felt like there hadn't been such a seismic shift in her world.
