Disclaimer: I do not own any characters, objects, locations or spells of the Harry Potter franchise that appear in this fan fiction story. It is all the property of the greatest author in the world, J.K Rowling
Author's note: Hey everyone who's reading this fanfic! Firstly, thanks for clicking on it and secondly, I hope you enjoy it which I have no doubt you will ;)! Chapter updates will come at an average of once a week so stay tuned!
Chapter One: Shredded Bliss
Dusk had just descended upon the village of Ottery St. Catchpole. The Sun glowed a stunning crimson as it serenely crawled beyond the hilly horizon. Residents had retreated into the warm interiors of their imperfectly oblong homes as the chilly evening wind began creeping through the trees at the edge of the village. It was towards a curiously stumpy, yet rather dignified looking outcrop of land that the very old and worn looking cathedral stood. The paint on the outside was peeling so badly that it seemed that the whole building had been raked by a giant farmer. The windows hung miserably on their hinges, groaning pathetically every time a gust of wing blew their way. Tangles of ivy and weeds clambered up the walls of the first storey, some even succeeding in crashing through a dust choked window. Anyone passing by this abysmally mundane excuse for architecture would walk on, not giving a care in the world about what it was still doing there. Yet, on this particularly Tuesday evening, utter cacophony raged inside.
"FRED! GEORGE! I thought I told you two to get rid of all these pygmy pasties two hours ago! You savages KNOW Fleur's allergic to them!"
"Mum, they're pygmy puffs not pasties! And we already swept them all up. And double-checked the place!"
"Oh is that right? What's this thing then- Aaaarghh!"
Molly Weasley shrieked and leapt onto a stool as a nastily fat rat shot out from under a sunken floorboard. Her cheeks were flushed red and beads of sweat were framing her plump face. She was scanning the rest of the floor very intensely before going back to standing on when a whole parade of seven people burst through the double-oak doors into the room.
"Mum, what happened? Why did you scream?" asked an incredulous looking Ginny, panting and clutching her chest.
"Oh, gosh it was nothing everyone, really. Just a rat." replied Molly, her face already starting to turn the colour of her hair.
"A rat? Here? And here I thought we'd done a good job! Vakrooms were supposed to be held in high esteem by muggles.", grumbled Arthur Weasley casting a very disdainful look over the paneled floor.
"Aw come on dad, don't tell us you actually used that monstrosity? It sounded like the ghoul in our attic developed a snorting fit or something!" cried Ron as Fred, George and Harry doubled up in silent convulsions of laughter at Mr. Weasley's almost comical expression of forlornness.
"Actually Mr.Weasley, I think….it's pronounced-" choked Harry, but Hermione cut in.
"Oh Harry no one cares how it's pronounced! The wedding starts in an hour and we really can't be clowning at a time like this!
"Yes, yes she's right boys. I think it's time we got back to what we were all assigned to do. Oh and think you're finished do you? Well there are a couple of toilets upstairs that I do feel are in dire need of a good scrubbing." She added wiping the satisfied smirks off Fred and George's faces.
"What, no magic?"
Ever since the unofficial last day of school at Hogwarts, the entire Weasley family plus Harry and the Delacour family had been up to their necks in wedding plans and arrangements. Even despite the utterly devastating previous months, what with horrific injuries and also a crude death, Fleur Delacour did not wish to postpone her marriage to Bill Weasley. To her, it was pointless to avoid something that was inevitable. To her, if there was one thing that could lighten everyone's moods during such a despondent period, it was a wedding. And a wedding she was just an hour away from having. Her superficial demeanor had somewhat evaporated throughout the course of this period. In fact, it had been her who had managed to shake Molly Weasley out of a very depressing reverie. This almost surreal optimism had suddenly shimmered out of nowhere and had cast as much a light-hearted mood as everyone could ever muster. No one even called her Phlegm these days.
"Ah! Molly, zees ees exactly 'ow I wanted you to look!" she cried throatily as she floated into the hall. "You look seemply breathtaking!"
Even with patches of dust on her cheeks and slight creases on her dress, that was a closely accurate description of how Mrs Weasley looked. She wore a pale emerald chiffon gown with a matching pearl necklace and earrings. The curls on her head had been softened so that they elegantly hugged her face. All the stress of the past two years had, in effect, even taken some bulk off of her; so much so that even Fred and George said she was pretty.
"Oh dear, thank you. I've never really worn anything quite like this before. You really must thank your father for me, I would never have even anticipated for a moment…the gifts…Gosh I promised myself I wouldn't cry…" she sniffed and clumsily dabbed away at her eyes so as to not aggravate her mascara.
"Oh come now, Molly, if you don't cry today I'd eat my ring! And I love my ring!"
"Well, anyway, the bride can't be walking around at a time like this. You've got to go prepare yourself. You might get dust on your clothes for sanity's sake!" piped Mrs Weasley, gently shoving Fleur back up the stairs that led up to the bride's parlour. "Oh, and is Bill doing fine by himself? Are you sure he doesn't need me to-"
"Oh yes 'ee ees fine Molly, just as excited as moi!." "I'll take good care of him for you." She added after sensing the concern in Molly's voice.
Over in the dining hall, Harry, Ron and Hermione were just about done setting up the china and silverware manually, as were Mrs Weasley's orders.
"By hand, what was she thinking? It isn't like this damn china, or whatever they call it is fragile is it?" groaned Ron as he got confused between the stake knife and the butter knife for the fifth time.
"Um actually Ron china is incredibly-" started Hermione before Harry interjected.
"It isn't the china Hermione. Ron's just depressed over the lost cause."
"Lost cause, what're you-"Ron whined just before a look of comprehension dawned on his face. "Crikey Harry I'm happy for her alright? She's getting married, and to my brother Bill, what more could I possibly want?" he cried trying to look cheered but ending up shattering a glass on the floor instead. Hermione hurriedly vanished the remains.
It had been just like this with the three of them the whole month. Not once had either of them mentioned the foreboding task that lay ahead in Harry's life. They all knew it had to be faced but none of them wanted to face it. At least not then, when everyone was just starting to feel a little happier. Harry had been constantly trying to brush the thought aside whenever it cropped up in his mind, but usually to no avail. He knew the time would come when he simply had to think things through, but now was just not it. It just wasn't.
Harry was just furiously scrutinizing the back of a china plate, to get the thoughts of his future out of his mind, when Mr. Weasley's calls rang out.
"Everyone! Hurry here, the wedding's about to begin!"
There was momentary disorientation as a crowd of close to fifty people burst through the double-oak doors and into the main hall. Together with Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Fred, George, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley there were also Hagrid, Lupin, Tonks, Moody, Charlie Weasley, Gabrielle Delacour, Professor McGonagall, other members of the order and even Percy. It seemed not even family tiffs could keep them away from this wedding. Everyone got comfortably seated and the festivity then began.
It was Bill who entered the hall first. At first glance, he looked exactly the same, with his long hair pulled back into a ponytail, the fang-shaped earring still where it had always been and the same boyish grin which had been what drew Fleur to him in the first place. As he marched up the aisle, the grisly reminders of his feverish battle grew clearer. There was a deep gash right across his left eye, which meant that he could no longer see through it. There was also a large gaping would on his chin and most of his left eyebrow had been shredded off. Although he walked with a heavy limp, the air of dignity that emanated from him so naturally was praiseworthy. As he passed his mother, he gave her a wink, which immediately sent her into waves of sobs into her husbands shoulder.
Fleur arrived next and almost with an unearthly brilliance too. Her gown was a brilliant white and seemed to give off a breathtaking silvery glow all by itself. Her long blonde hair swept out beautifully from behind her and danced to its own rhythm with her every step. Her petite face gleamed with a radiance from within her soul and her smile was so infectious, every soon began smiling as well. Most so was Ron who began drooling so ferociously that Hermione had to slap him thrice.
The stocky priest at the front of the altar muttered a long prayer in a monotone and yet everyone remained transfixed at the image before them. Fleur Delacour, wedding a man mauled by a wolf, when a mere year ago she would not even have dared to stand in the shadow of one. Finally, with a kiss, they were wed.
A raucous dinner party followed soon after with heaps of mince pies, chicken legs, chocolate gateau and treacle tarts. Dr, Filibuster's fireworks ripped through the room ricocheting off the walls and exploding into a pandemonium of colour, lights and sound. A perfect end to a perfect day.
Just as Bill and Fleur were about to leave on a rose-coloured specially honeymoon designed broomstick, Fleur threw her bouquet her flowers backwards into the crowd.
Hermione caught it. She giggled and waved at the pair. Standing right next to her, blushing furiously, was Ron.