The Wedding

Harry

The bed is unmade, there's food spoiling on the bed stand and the place stinks of unwashed male. This offends and annoys Harry. He asks the same question for the third time in half an hour. "How can you live like this?"

"Dad, chill. How can I freak out in peace if you'll keep nagging me?"

"And why, in Merlin's name, would you freak out? You've been chasing the girl since you were five."

Teddy grimaces. "She can still change her mind."

"That's true," Harry deadpans. "Teenage witches can be skittish."

"You're not really expected to agree with me."

"You can change your mind too. There's still, well..." Harry checks his watch. "Forty-three minutes."

His hair turns white, a sure sign of an upset Teddy. "Stop doing this."

"Doing what?"

"Trying to make me freak out."

Harry looks around with distaste again. "I can go back nagging..."

"Stop it and help me tie this thing." Harry pulls out his wand, points it at Teddy, makes a complex motion and mumbles something strange. The tie assembles itself into a perfect butterfly.

"What was that?"

"What?"

"The spell, Dad. What was the charm?"

"'Butterfly' in parseltongue." Teddy's mouth opens slightly and he gives Harry a sideways glance. "Common words in parseltongue function as spells with the right intent."

"I didn't know that." Harry shrugs. "Wait... what about the wand motion?"

"What about it?"

Teddy makes a long-suffering face. "Where did that wand motion come from?"

"I just sort of … drew a butterfly."

There is a long silence. Teddy is talented and powerful, but his dad seems to be made of magic, sometimes. "I hate you." Teddy finally says.

"I've heard that before."

"No, but I really, really hate you."

"That too." Harry seems lost for a moment.

Teddy's eyes gleam for a second and his hair turns light green. "I'm sorry."

"What are you being sorry for, cub?" He sounds soft.

"For marrying one of them?"

Harry thinks of Victoire for a moment and shrugs. "Beauty and brains. Can't say I blame you."

Teddy grins, and his hair goes back to coal black. "You got that right, old man."

"It's been known to happen."

Fleur

Fleur hesitates, trying to pick another sprig of little white lilies from the basket. None seems right. Giving up for a moment, she stretches and looks around. Her little blonde flock. Apolline, looking regal in a strapless dress in burgundy tones, sitting poised in an armchair. Gabrielle, tall and gorgeous in a pale pink dress, moving like the world is her catwalk. Dominique, her blonde mane showing reddish highlights in this light. Sixteen-year-old, recently changed and her allure still a little wild, dressed in light blue, quiet and thoughtful, listening to her aunt's latest adventures in the fashion world.

And the bride. Eighteen, and much too young, in Fleur's opinion. A delicate beauty in porcelain and silver, her large blue eyes almost lilac. Nervous, fidgety and giggly. Five veela in a room. Fleur wonders what could be the collective word for veela. A firestorm? No... too intense. A bouquet? She giggles, attracting Dominique's attention. "What is it, mum?"

"Idle thoughts, ma petite." An annoyance, maybe? She giggles again.

"If your thoughts are that amusing, you might as well share them." Apolline pontificates.

"I was wondering what might be the right word for a bunch of veela."

"Well?" Dominique asks.

"The best one I came up with was an annoyance."

Apolline frowns, Dominique smiles and Gabrielle, too wrapped up in her own concerns doesn't even hear. Victoire laughs. "An annoyance of Veela? Oh, mum. That sounds so right!"

Gabrielle wakes up. "What? What's the annoyance?" The others ignore her. Fleur goes back braiding little lilies into her eldest's hair.

"Stay still!" Fleur complains, after Victoire moves her head, trying to look at Dominique.

"Sorry. I'm a little nervous."

Dominique replies. "There's nothing to be nervous, sis. You love him and he loves you. Nothing else matters."

"He is also a metamorph." Gabrielle holds her hands up, about half a foot away and then moves them apart.

Victoire sees her aunt's lewd gesture in the mirror and blushes. "Ah! I see my niece has sampled the goods. Tell us, please. How is he?"

"Full morphers are genderless." Fleur adds dryly. "You should refer to Teddy as 'it'"

"And how would you know that?" Apolline asks.

"His mother was a friend."

"A friend, or a friend?" Gabrielle asks and both of Fleur's daughters giggle.

"Wouldn't you like to know." Fleur deadpans as she picks up another flower.

"Actually, Teddy prefers to be a 'he'" Victoire explains. She smiles demurely. "Most of the time."

The adults cackle, Victoire looks smug and Dominique dissolves in giggles. "Oh! I can't believe you said that. I need to scrub my brain."

"He can look real nice in my knickers too..."

"Oh, no! Stop it!" Dominique screams.

"You've never done it with another girl, sweetie?" Fleur calmly asks her youngest.

Dominique stares at her feet and mumbles. Gabrielle gives he a slight push. "What was that?"

"I kissed Rose, once."

"Kissed or, how do they say it? Snogged her?" Gabrielle asks. "And who is Rose?"

"Aunt Ron and aunt Hermione's Rose. She's fifteen now. And I was twelve at the time!"

"There's nothing wrong with experimenting." Fleur adds. "Besides, Rose is very cute."

"And Veela are usually pansexual," Apolline adds.

"Have you all been with women?" Dominique asks, her voice a little shrill. She gets a loud silence in reply. She looks at her feet again. "Now I feel inadequate."

"Don't worry," Says Apolline. "You have your whole life to try it."

"Talk about experimenting, do you have your eyes in any of the guests?" Gabrielle asks, poking Dominique again.

Victoire replies. "I hear Malfoy is coming." She pauses for effect. "And Rosie too, for that matter."

"They are together, I think." Dominique responds, somewhat forlorn.

Gabrielle grins. "Now, that sounds even better."

Victoire adds. "A little champagne, a little allure..."

Dominique gets shrill again. "Oh, stop it!"

"Leave her alone, you two." Fleur defends.

Gabrielle poses in front of the full body mirror. "I'm planning on landing a Potter tonight."

"James is easy pickings," Victoria suggests. "Just step in front of him, smile and he will do the rest."

Gabrielle smirks. "I'm thinking bigger."

"You mean smaller." Fleur says. "James is quite a bit bigger than his father."

"Not where it matters." Gabrielle replies.

"And how in Circe's name would you know?" Apolline asks.

"Rumors."

Victoire turns around, much to her mother's annoyance. "The rumors are accurate, I think." The other women just look at her. "I overheard Teddy teasing James, allright?" A long silence follows, with several women's imagination running wild..

"How long has it been since Harry and the little harpy split up?" Apolline asks, looking at Fleur.

"I don't know. It was long after I left William..." Fleur walked away when she lost her little boy, and all the drama that followed.

Dominique cuts off her mother. "Almost five years."

"See? It's been long enough," a determined look in Gabrielle's face.

Apolline casts tempus. "We should be going."

"Go ahead," Fleur replies. "We will be done here in a minute."

Gabrielle, Apolline and Dominique leave, and Fleur puts on the last touches on Victoire's hair. Then Victoire stands up and Fleur fusses a bit more with the dress. "Is everything all right, darling?"

Victoire smiles. "Everything is fine, mum. It's as Nick said. We have loved each other for a long time."

"All right. Shall we go?"

Victoire moves towards the door, but stops in front of her mother. "I don't think Auntie has much of a chance with Papa."

"Papa, hm?"

"He's Teddy's dad."

"Fine. But why do you say that? Gabby usually gets her way with men."

Victoire laughs softly. "I've met four of Papa's witches. Aunt Ginny, an unspeakable, a duelling champion and an African priestess. As far as I could tell, these four had just one thing in common."

"What?"

"They were really scary."

Fleur laughs. "I see." She thinks of Gabrielle's scatterbrained, harmless ways. "Gabby doesn't stand much of a chance, then."

Victoire gives her mother an intense look straight into her eyes. "Auntie doesn't."

Fleur smiles, flattered. Besides, it's been quite a while. "I'll consider it, sweetie. Thank you."

"I love you, mum."

"I love you right back."

Harry

The place is a half-acre lot next to Windermere Lake. Strong warding, and partly covered by a pair of expanded tents, one for the wedding and reception and one for the catering. A flower garden facing the lake. Heated, both inside and outside, enough to offset the northern England December chill. A crew of a dozen house-elves does the hard work, supervised by a very talented, and rather expensive squib. Expenses split right down the middle between the Black and Delacour vaults.

Five hundred and thirty eight guests. It is Harry's insistence that made it this big. He figures he owes the late Andromeda and Teddy's birth parents a bit of a fuss. Besides, using Black gold and Potter influence to make the wedding of a Veela and the son of a werewolf into the social event of the year is just,,, perfect. Teddy and Victoire were not about to argue the point, Apolline actually approved.

Harry and Teddy portkey in, back-to-back and wands out, following the drill for arrival in a potentially unsecured location. Most of the guests are already sitting inside the big tent, so, when they arrive there, it is just a couple of guards in view. They greet Harry and Teddy with a smile. Father and son quickly get clear of the arrival point and head inside.

It's very noisy. The sound of hundreds of people talking in an enclosed space. The tent is gray on the outside, but white inside, with the ceiling spelled to look like the night sky, in a crude imitation of Hogwarts' Great Hall. The place is lighted by magical lamps hanging from wooden poles. It's decorated with white flowers and some kind of gauzy fabric hanging from the walls. Hundreds of chairs in rows, packed with people, and facing a raised dais opposite to the entrance. A clear lane, with a broad red carpet and scattered flowers goes from the entrance straight to the dais.

Silence falls, as conversations swich to whispers and most of the guests turn to stare at Harry and Teddy. Teddy stops to gawk, so Harry grabs him by the arm and pulls him forward. It just wont do to stand there like a target. There is a basic order to the place. To the right, law enforcement, the old DA, a criminal or two, Ministry officials and a tiny bit of family, basically the Malfoys and the Dursleys. On the other side, redheads, Veela and the French, survivors of the Order of the Phoenix, Hogwarts staff and assorted light-side wizarding folk.

Some glaring absences. First and foremost, Hermione Sexton, formerly Weasley, nee Granger. Harry begged her to come, but she just wouldn't. Given the history, and the anger from the Weasley crowd, he can't really blame her.

Teddy pulls his arm away from his father's grasp and walks ahead. Harry keeps on high alert, watching the crowd. Finally, Teddy reaches the dais and stands between the old wizard from central casting and his best man. Harry sits at the front row, next to Narcissa.

A few seconds later, she surprises him by grabbing his hand and whispering: "Relax, Harry. Everything is fine."

Narcissa was a rock after Andromeda passed, helping both Harry and Teddy through their grief. She is quite the cold fish most of the time, but that hides a surprisingly broad mothering streak. That and her saving his life by lying to Riddle, places her very close to the top of Harry's good side.

"Thanks," Harry whispers back. He sits back and tries to forget the stress of the crowd, focusing on Teddy. It's supposed to be a happy day.

The ceremony itself is surprisingly fast and quite beautiful. A handfasting, with a golden conjured rope blessed by magic and shining softly. Teddy, staring at his stunning bride completely lost. Victoire, her demure countenance hiding a mischievous smile. There is a brief silver flash when they finally kiss.

"That was beautifully done," Narcissa whispers in his ear.

"Yes it was."

"You did a very good job raising that boy. Andy would be pleased."

"Cissy!" Harry, ever uncomfortable with compliments, scolds playfully. "Are you trying to get in my pants?"

She sits straight and slaps him gently on the shoulder. "In your dreams." They both snicker, but Narcissa sports a slight blush. People start to get up. "You got a job to do."

He stand up. "Right away, Mistress."

She laughs. "Cheeky brat!" Despite their light flirting, they are both keenly aware of Andromeda's absence.

Harry stands next to Teddy, as a long line of well-wishers goes by. A few people are harder than others, specially Ronald, in his second hand finery and fake smile. Harry swallows his anger and manages to shake hands with the bastard. Others are almost as hard. But most aren't. Ginny stands back, and manages to be the last. "Harry..."

"Ginevra."

"Don't call me that."

"It's your name." She is crowding Harry, and he takes a half-step back. "What do you want?"

"Just to congratulate you. It was a beautiful ceremony."

Harry can't help the bitterness. "The werewolf's son and phlegm's daughter, right?"

"I said many things I shouldn't have, I know. I'm sorry."

"You should go apologize to the mudblood whose children your family stole. After your brother hit her. "

She shakes her head. "It's not a day for anger, Harry."

She's right. And she can't be completely blamed by the bigotry and hypocrisy she imbibed with her mother's milk, and managed to pass, at least in part, onto her's and Harry's children. Harry straightens up and look into her eyes. "You're right. I apologize."

There's tears in her eyes. "I've always admired this in you."

"What?"

"The way you can move past anger."

"It's a survival mechanism." Taught forcefully by the Dursleys.

"I know." She sighs. "Be happy, Harry," she says softly as she walks away.

"You too." They had good times, actually. Quite a few of them, if memory serves.

While Harry was being congratulated, the chairs have been removed, and a number of tables for eight people replaces them. Two tables close to the dais were reserved for close family. Harry sits between Narcissa and Dominique, with suits Harry just fine. Her allure flares a couple of times during dinner, which explains why she was placed next to him. The only male on the table that gets a little glassy-eyed is Teddy's best man. After the dinner comes dessert, champagne and the toasts.

The best man does a credible job, with a couple of jokes, a couple of stories involving Teddy and Victoire and a heartwarming toast. William fumbles it, having had more wine than he should. Then it comes Harry's turn. Ten years as Head Auror will teach you to speak in public, among other useful things, so Harry gets up, casts sonorus and waits a moment for people to look at him.

"The first time Teddy informed me he was going to marry Victoire, he was five years old." A pause, for drama and to let people laugh. "I'm not entirely sure what prompted this decision of his, but I noticed that, even then, Victoire had my son wrapped around her pretty little fingers."

"They were raised as close family. When they were eight and seven, Dominique arranged a fairly elaborate play wedding for them. They both dated other people, but remained close. Teddy got suspended for a week during his sixth year. He broke another boy's jaw for making Victoire cry. I believe Victoire also earned a suspension of her own, for defending Teddy with a few fireballs."

"They finally became a couple a little less than three years ago, when Victoire was leaving for her seventh year, and Teddy had just been accepted at the Auror academy."

"I am very proud of my son. He is bright, hardworking and kind. Yet, of one thing I'm sure. He does not deserve Victoire. At least not yet. He might, someday, if he truly dedicates himself to her. A good marriage is built anew every day. I don't need to add that I wholly approve of his choice of bride."

"Before I give my toast, I'd like to dedicate a few words to three people who are present here only in spirit. Teddy's birth parents, Remus and Nymphadora. True heroes who gave their lives to defend our future. And Teddy's grandmother Andromeda, who despite unspeakable loss, managed to raise an infant in love and care, while helping a broken teenager find himself. Somewhere, those three are watching over Teddy and Victoire, in pride and in love."

"To conclude, I raise my glass to Theodore Remus and Victoire Apolline. May the grace of magic shine on you, in happiness and peace, throughout your lives, so mote it be."

People raise their glasses and repeat. "So mote it be."

Next, Teddy and Victoire stand together. Victoire speaks first. "We would like to thank all of you for coming here today to celebrate this day with us. We would also like to thank all of those who helped put this party together, specially Dominique, my sister and maid of honor..."

Then Teddy continues. "and Mark, my best man and, most importantly Apolline, Vicky's grandmother. A special thanks also to the Black and Delacour families, who provided all of this, and finally, to our teachers and parents, who gave us direction and taught us everything we know. Enough talking. Now, lets dance!"

The band occupies the dais, the tables removed or pushed to the sides, leaving a broad open space. The first song in a waltz, with Teddy and Victoire by themselves. Then Bill dances with Victoire and Narcissa, representing her niece and her sister, dances with Teddy. Then Fleur dances with Teddy and Harry with Victoire, which finally opens the floor.

Afterwards, Harry sits for about thirty seconds, sipping a butterbeer, when Dominique asks him to dance. He accepts with pleasure, as she is graceful and quiet. After a couple of songs, she is replaced by Gabrielle, who might be a better dancer, but is not quiet. Dancing a little too close, pushing with jolts of allure and droning incessantly about this-or-that fashion designer, or photographer, or model...

Harry stops dancing and cuts her off. "I'm tired and thirsty, Gabrielle." And a little annoyed.

"Let's get something to drink, then." She grabs his arm and begins to drag him towards the tables.

Harry stays back a little, pulling his arm from her grasp. "Go ahead." She gives him a disappointed look and walks away. Harry scans around for a friendly face, and finds Daphne Greengrass sitting by herself. She's wearing a dark green dress with silver accents, very proper and very Slytherin. They have a little history, and parted in good terms. She stands up as Harry approaches. "Well met, Potter. That was a good speech."

Harry air kisses her hand and returns her smirk with a smirk of his own. His heart beats a little faster. He is not immune to Daphne's wholly non-magical allure. "Well, thanks. I'm surprised to see you sitting alone."

"I came as my nephew's plus one. And now he has abandoned me for a younger woman." I follow her eyes and find Scorpius dancing with my goddaughter Rose. Very close, and his hands a little too far south.

"No offense, but I can't fault his taste."

"None taken." She lowers her voice to a whisper. "The Department has an eye on her." Daphne is an Unspeakable, and leads one of their action teams.

"Which side?"

"Not mine. She has a first rate mind. She would be wasted among us grunts."

Harry smiles and nods in agreement. "Would you care to dance?"

"No, thanks. I'd rather sit here and observe." Her smirk turns into a full smile, her voice turns husky and her eyes wander a bit. "I'm not sure I could handle the excitement."

It appears that a door Harry thought was permanently shut might actually be open a little. Still, repeating the same actions, hoping for a different outcome... Harry is still brooding when Gabrielle appears next to him. "There you are!" She hands him a glass of butterbeer. "I thought you had run away."

"Gabrielle Delacour, meet Daphne Greengrass."

Daphne takes the measure of Gabrielle with one look. She puts on a Snape-worthy sneer. "Delighted, I'm sure."

Gabrielle, on the other hand, is oblivious. "It's my pleasure. That's a nice dress." She then adds with a faint sneer of her own. "Where did you buy it?"

A flat reply. "It's a de la Renta."

"Oh." Gabrielle looks a little suspicious. "I haven't seen it in his catalogue. I modeled for him, you know?"

Daphne looks at her nails. "That's nice." Then she continues. "It's an exclusive." Harry has to make an effort not to laugh. Daphne may not be a bigot, but she is a died-in-the-wool snob.

Harry decides to remove himself, before he does something stupid, like making a grab for Daphne. "If you ladies will excuse me, I should make the rounds." Daphne waves a vague dismissal. Harry moves away, and Gabrielle follows him a couple of seconds later.

Harry visits several tables, talking to friends and acquaintances and pointedly ignoring Gabrielle. She seems unfazed, and keeps following him around and trying to get on the various conversations. Harry is about ready to hex her when he feels a slight tap on his shoulder. He turns around and finds himself face to face with Fleur. They've exchanged letters, but haven't spoken in years.

"Well, hello." Harry's smile comes unbidden.

"It's been a long time." She picks up some imaginary lint from his robe. "I liked your speech."

"Thank you." For a moment neither knows what to say.

"Do you want to dance?" Fleur asks.

"Hmm." Harry looks at Gabrielle, who is staring daggers at her sister. "Yes, sure."

They walk to the center of the dance floor. The band is playing some Caribbean style that Fleur seems familiar, and Harry is happy to follow along as he can. Like her daughters, she is loose on the hips and light on her feet, a real pleasure as a dance partner. Harry also loosens up a bit, finally managing to spin Fleur around a couple of times.

"You are a good dancer," she comments after the second spin.

"You seem surprised."

"I'm not sure. Maybe the impression I got from the Yule Ball got stuck in my mind..."

Harry snickers. "You weren't enjoying yourself either."

Fleur clucks. "I should have gone with you, instead, I guess."

"I couldn't dance, but at least I would not drool in your dress."

"Oh! That was awful." She laughs softly.

"Where have you been, Fleur? What have you been doing?"

"I spent the last two years basically stuck in a cave in Crete."

"A cave. Sounds horrid."

" It was a large temple to Apollo, partially covered by ash from a volcano and then buried under two millenia of dirt. Vaults, hidden with magic and mundane cleverness, were used to hide the God's offerings. I found many beautiful things there."

"What happens to all the treasure?"

"It belongs to the people of Greece. I was working as a free-lancer for the Archeological Museum of Athens."

He nods and smiles. "Good."

"I think so too."

"Are you going back?"

"No, The work is done."

"I'd love to hear more."

"And I'd love to tell you more. But you will get bored."

"I sincerely doubt it."

Fleur

She enjoys talking to him, he is witty and seems interested in her. No self-importance, no desire to impress. She realizes that even at fourteen, he was already like this. So much more self-assured now, though. His words and her brooding gets ignored, as her attention wanders and she loses herself to the music.

She inhales deeply. It tickles her senses. The scent of a strong, magical male. He is neither tall nor bulky, but there is such a coiled strength to him. He moves with assurance, leading her through the steps with ease. She brings him closer, feeling his thighs against hers, her breasts against his chest. One hand presses hers firmly, and one moves down, sending tingles up her spine.

Dancing can be the best foreplay.

Their eyes meet, his bright greens open wide with surprise. She sends out a feather touch of allure, and his pupils dilate in response. She chuckles. Resistant, sure, but not immune. She can smell his arousal before she feels a bulge growing elsewhere. The long-neglected Veela inside her sings. Her magic responds to his, and her body does as well. So strong... He leans forward, and she pushes through the last inch. Lips touching, then pressing together. Fast breathing. They stop dancing with their bodies, the song goes swirling around them, unheard and unheeded. Instead, their mouths open and their tongues dance. They are glued together, like magnets, his hand behind her head, another at her waist. One minute, and then another.

They step back, staring hungrily at one another. Then they both laugh, a little embarrased by their loss of composure.

Fleur looks around. Most faces are smiling, but some are angry. Gabrielle, standing outside the dance floor, hands tightened into fists and her pretty eyes furious. She will apologize later. Maybe with some of those chocolates Gabrielle adores. Hatred also from the Weasleys. The older ones, at least. Hatred and fear. They learned what a truly angered Harry Potter means. Fleur didn't see the duel, but she was told it lasted all of thirty seconds. William got desperate, tried an unforgivable and lost his wand hand and his livelihood at the same time to a fire whip. Hatred and fear, except for the little harpy. She just seems sad and lost. Not that Fleur cares in the least...

"Maman?" Without Fleur noticing, Victoire and Teddy approached them, hand-in-hand.

"Yes?"

"It looked real from afar, but I wasn't sure you and Papa weren't pranking everybody." Victoire looks at their bright eyes and slightly flushed countenance. "But I can see it was not the case. Good."

"I'm glad you two approve." Harry replies in a dry tone, as he takes one of Fleur's hands, intertwines their fingers and gives it a little kiss.

Fleur just looks at him for a second and turns back to Victoire looking pleased. "What is it?"

"We came to tell you we are leaving."

Harry gets startled. "Already?"

"It's past midnight, Dad."

"Well... enjoy yourselves. Use the muggle sunscreen. It's a lot more fun than the charm."

They smile. "We will. Bye."

Harry and Fleur wave, as their portkey activates.

Harry stares at Fleur for a moment. "I think I should be going too." She doesn't say anything. "Where are you staying?" Fleur just smiles. A moment passes, then another. Harry breaks down "Let's talk to your mother. She'll close up shop."

Fleur kisses him in the cheek. "Good boy," she adds in a husky tone. "Ten points to Gryffindor."

=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=

"Bollocks!"

"What is it, darling?"

"I forgot to ask the old man to untie this thing."