Harry Potter and the Heir of Gryffindor

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything you may recognize, if I did, George Bush would not exist, and I would rule the world.

A/N: HAPPY NEW YEAR! I hope you all understand the lateness of this chapter! New Years was hectic. Well not really, you can't say 3 days working on your tan in Lakes Entrance 'hectic' :P . As always, thankyou to my reviewers:

SlayerKitty00, alaskagirl24, and Rebecca (I went 2 primary school with her, she happened to get the link of my Asha-ma-lee.)

(P.S Re-written (not totally) fixed up some things…. So, yeah. Go back and re-read all of it!)

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Weasley-Delacour

The next week was filled with wedding preparations. Flowers, food, guests and accommodation for the Delacour family all had to be organised swiftly. Fittings were conducted for bridesmaids on the Tuesday after Harry arrived. The bridesmaids (Ginny, Gabrielle and Fleur's cousin Michelle) were all to wear strapless dresses of bone with, (to Ginny's disgust) pink trimming and a pink bouquet.

So on the Wednesday, all groomsmen got up at sparrowfart to make their way to Madam Malkin's, which specially opened its doors for the Weasley/Delacour wedding. There were so many more groomsmen than bridesmaids, with Charlie, Fred, George, Ron and Harry to be fitted. Percy had been offered a spot, but he not-so-politely declined.

Harry tumbled down the stairs, followed by a heavy-lidded Ron. Entering the kitchen, the shirtless redhead plonked down at the table and reached for the closest bowl of food. After spooning the mushed peas into his mouth, he did not hesitate to spit up all over Harry and sprint to the basin to wash his mouth out.

"Bloody hell!" he exclaimed, wiping the water from his mouth with the back of his hand. He looked over to his mother, who was stirring a pot filled with porridge, smirking at her son's stupidity. "What in all nine levels of hell was that?"

"I thought there were only seven levels," mumbled Harry, choosing a safe bowl of cereal.

"No swearing, Ronnie dear! And it was baby food. Michelle is coming from France any minute." Molly snapped.

Ron looked dumbstruck. "Fleur's cousin eats baby food?" Molly rolled her eyes. "I swear," he whispered to Harry, "We are marrying into a family of nutters."

Harry rolled his eyes and mentally groaned. Another baby to put up with. As if Dudley wasn't enough.

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Arriving in The Leaky Cauldron, by means of floo, the men straightened themselves up and exited the tavern. Stepping onto the cobbled streets of Diagon Alley, the first thing Harry noticed was the absence of the crowds of persons, fawning over the latest broomsticks and purchasing ingredients. In truth, there were only a handful of people Harry could spot that weren't Aurors.

"Aah, Kingsley!" exclaimed Arthur, spotting the tall, dark form, "I hope you will be attending the wedding?"

"Of course, Arthur. I wouldn't miss it!" replied Kingsley Shacklebolt in his deep booming voice. He smiled around at the group and bid them a good day, promising to see them on the Sunday.

They continued their journey to find the ideal dress-robes, stopping in front of Madam Malkin's.

"Alright chaps, this is it," Charlie boomed, "To find the right colour robes, or die in the attempt!" He earned a number of bewildered looks from the oh-so-few shoppers. Gred and Forge laughed at their brother, linking arms and skipping in the doors. Charlie held open the door and mock-bowed Ron in, who scowled and dragged Harry inside, muttering about divorcing his brothers.

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3:00 am. Harry Potter awoke, as did the rest of the people within a 50-kilometer radius. A shrill scream made it's way up to the topmost room in the Weasley house, sending chills down the teenagers' spines.

Both quickly pulled on shirts and sprinted down the stairs, wands drawn, only to be sent back to bed a moment later, when the crying baby was shushed by it's mother.

"I am so 'zori boyz. Go back to bed, I shall put up zum slienceeng charms," whispered Michelle, ushering the boys back up to bed. "Le bébé, ne pleurent pas. Le mère est ici," She whispered in French to the bundle in her arms, closing the door and warding it.

The boys trooped upstairs, yawning and crawling into bed, asleep before they hit the pillow.

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Hermione stepped out of the ministry car and took in a huge breath. She had just arrived at her second home, and one of her favourite places in the world: The Burrow. Walking to the back of the car, she helped Arthur with her trunk, levitating it up to the house. Arthur hurried ahead of her, Crookshanks' cage in his arms, to open the door. Hermione was instantly hit with the wonderful aromas of Molly Weasley's cooking.

Sitting on the staircase leading up to the bedrooms, sat three teenagers, all looking extremely bored. Ginny looked up at the creaking of the door and squealed. Harry looked up and beamed. Ron gave her a goofy grin that, although she didn't like to admit it, made her knees go weak.

"Come 'Mione! Lets get you unpacked!" gushed Ginny, grabbing the cage from her father and letting the bow-legged cat go.

Hermione followed her friend upstairs, her trunk hovering in front of her; not noticing the longing look her other redheaded friend was shooting her.

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"On no! Ze wetheer iz 'orrible!" screeched Fleur, glaring out her window. Molly rolled her eyes. The conditions were as "'orrible" as it was aloud to be by Molly Weasley's standards.

Which meant there was not a cloud in the sky nor or a whisper of wind.

Molly smiled. The weather for her baby boy's wedding was perfect.

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"Give the bottle back!"

"Your not going to be drunk at your own wedding!"

"Just a few… sips Charlie?"

"No, Bill," Charlie smirked at his brother. Firewhisky on a wedding day? Bah. He wasn't going to let his brother ruin his chance with the woman he loved.

Bill growled.

Charlie grinned.

Bill glared.

And Charlie glared right back.

Bill blinked.

"You idiot! You don blink in a staring contest!"

Bill stormed out of the room.

Charlie smirked and took a swig of the Firewhisky.

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Harry scratched the back of his neck. He was about to ask Ron how much longer when the music started. He immediately closed his mouth, looking towards the house, only to have his jaw drop again at the sight.

Fleur's silver hair had been elegantly curled, falling in waves on her shoulders. A wreath of pink and white flowers looked like a crown on her hair and the dress she wore curved in just the right places. The sleeves puffed around her shoulders with the delicate designs of thousands of flowers. The skirt of the dress held the same design, like an upside-down rose, fanning out around her feet.

He could hear Bill's gasp. Molly and Mrs. Delacour were silently crying in the front rows. The bridesmaids sighed.

Mr. Delacour kissed his daughter's cheek and went and sat by his wife. Fleur sashayed up to Bill and he took her hands. Her eyes welled with tears as the ceremony started.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today…" 5 minuets… 10 minuets… Ron sighed and shifted his feet.

"Do you, William Gideon Weasley, take this woman to be your lawful, wedded wife? To have and to hold, through sickness and in health?"

Bill looked down into his fiancé's eyes. "I do."

"And do you, Fleur Reine Delacour, take this man to be your lawful, wedded husband? To have and to hold, through sickness and in health?"

A tear made it's way down her pale cheek. "I do."

"You may kiss the bride," smiled Minerva McGonagall, and Bill complied with enthusiasm.

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The band struck a slow tune; drawing couples onto the dance floor. The bride and groom stood in the middle of the garden at the Burrow, content swaying together, looking into each other's eyes. Harry and Ron sat at a table, sipping their butterbeers while Hermione was dancing with Fred (or George?), who had determined that this was in fact a fast dance, hence twirling her around in circles.

Ron grunted and Harry looked at him. He was watching his brother with narrowed eyes, and Harry groaned.

"Why don't you ask to cut in?" he asked the redhead. Ron blinked.

"What?" asked Ron.

"Why don't-" Harry started

'Yes, I heard you!" Ron, rubbing a hand over his face, "What I meant is, what makes you think that… I like Hermione? I mean it's crazy! It's insane! It's-"

"True?" Harry offered, "Besides, I never said you liked 'Mione."

"How do you know that?" Ron replied, ignoring Harry's last words while turning Weasley red.

"I've been living with you guys for 7 years!" exclaimed Harry.

"6 Harry," Hermione interrupted, taking a break from the hyperactive twin and grabbing a glass of water.

"Whatever…" Harry dropped his voice "You've liked her since fourth year!"

"Merlin's beard," groaned Ron, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands, "Am I that transparent?"

"HA! I was right!" hissed Harry, keeping one eye on Hermione, once again being dangerously swung around the dance floor.

"Fine Harry, you prat," Ron grumbled, picking himself up and straightening his robes. Harry suppressed a snigger at this. Ron punched him in the arm. Hard.

Harry, rubbing his arm where he was sure a bruise was forming, watched in amusement as a slightly green Ronald tapped Fred on the shoulder. The boys exchanged words, and Ron finally had Hermione in his arms.

Harry looked over to where Ginny was dancing with Charlie, giggling as he turned her around in circles. Making his decision, he downed his Butterbeer and strode over to the duo, asking to cut in.

The last cord of a fast song was played, and a brand new slow song began.

Ron paled.

Harry smiled.

"Put your hand on my waist Ronald!"

Harry didn't need such prompting.

"Your what?" Ron squeaked.

Hermione rolled her eyes and grabbed his hand. She directed the other hand to her waist and the two couples danced. And danced. And danced until they were the last ones on the floor. They danced until their feet hurt, but neither group cared, they were happy just the way they were.

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Le bébé, ne pleurent pas. Le mère est ici: Baby don't cry, mother is here.

A/N: Sorry about the wait for those of you waiting. My muse ran away so her long-lost sister Taya had to come all the way from London to help.

(P.S I hope you like the little bits of romance I have added, my story was so… Blah.)

I hope to get Maya back soon:'(.

And I'm very disappointed! I posted chapter 2 of 'Hogwarts: 2014' last week, two people looked at it, and not 1 review! So if you want either of my stories to continue, go to 'Hogwarts: 2014', R&R, or simply read this fic and review.

IF I DON'T GET 3 REVIEWS IM NOT CONTINUING! ARRRRRRRRRGGGGGHHHHHH!

Fleur Reine Delacour: Flower Queen OfTheCourt (I don't know her real name!)

Oh and just so you know, porridge is disgusting.

Oh and read Saerry Snape's 'Not Myself', I just read it on her website, 170something chapters of Slytherin Harry goodness. :P

(P.S I am still holding my own story ransom! If I don't get 3 reviews I will cry, and I get angry when I cry!)

3 SICKLES AND A DUNGBOMB IF YOU TELL ME WHERE I MAY HAVE GOT THE 9 LEVELS OF HELL THING! (I don't know whether it is an actual quote, but ill give credit where credit is due.)

And 50cents if you tell me where I got that.

R&R

Luv Maddie xxx