"Who the hell is Barny Weasley?"
It had been Charlie who'd asked, both he and Bill turning the moment Fred and George had led Ron and a strange redheaded boy in dress robes into the sitting room of the Burrow. The entire rest of the house had been deemed Fleur's territory to use to get ready, leaving Bill forbidden by his mother from going upstairs at all for fear of seeing his bride too early. In the event he had to use the toilet, he had to give notice and have at least three people clear him to ensure Fleur was tucked away.
It was still better than the alternative of using a bush outside, which the twins had suggested.
"This is Barny!" Fred said obviously, gesturing to the boy. "Charlie, you know Barny."
"We all know Barny!" George added with the same enthusiasm Fred had. "Good old Barny! Our favorite cousin Barny."
Charlie looked over at Bill, who shrugged as he adjusted the white rose in the lapel of his dress robes. "I think we've finally reached the point where I don't have a bloody clue who half these people we're related to are anymore. I officially give up."
Bill smiled, though a thought did occur to him as he finished with his flower. Given the present company, this was likely the end result of all the plans his family had made to disguise Harry by having him Polyjuice into a random Muggle boy from the village. They were all aware it was happening, though the details of his new identity were apparently now being fleshed out by Fred and George.
"That's Harry's disguise, then?" he asked, giving Harry a once over.
Fred, George, and Ron—all three of them also dressed and ready in their robes—were nodding and smirking. Charlie muttered, "You couldn't just say that?" before adding, "Nice look, Harry."
"Barny," Fred reiterated.
"We're about to have a barney if you say the name Barny one more time," Charlie said, pointing at Fred.
Fred snorted a laugh. "I dare you to put a toe out of line with mum today. She'll have you punted all the way to Diggorys."
Ron hummed. "That would make for some excellent after dinner entertainment."
"I'd watch," George and Fred said in unison, the latter of whom having now strolled over to where Charlie had—poorly—hidden a half empty bottle of Firewhiskey behind a sofa cushion. He pulled it out and began examining it.
"We drank less than I thought last night," he said.
Charlie walked over and snatched it back. "That's the second bottle, you numpty. But will you stop being so bloody obvious? You just said it yourself, if mum sees a toe out of line, we're dead."
"Wait, what do you mean 'second bottle?'" Ron asked, looking confused. "Did you all drink last night?"
All four of the older Weasley boys glanced at each other. They had, actually. An impromptu stag party that hadn't been planned, but just sort of happened.
However, now that Ron and Harry were standing there staring at them—probably wondering why they hadn't been included—Bill felt a bit awkward about it. It wasn't as if they didn't want to include them, but after the strange events of last night's dinner—in which the Minister of Magic himself turned up to present Harry, Ron, and Hermione with objects that Dumbledore had left them in his final will—the night had grown weird and hasty. Everyone suddenly seemed to want to be elsewhere and, having gobbled down cake and excused themselves, went their separate ways.
Bill knew that Ron and his friends had rushed upstairs, likely to discuss their new possessions. Hagrid, who was here for Harry's party and staying the night to attend the wedding the following day, had gone to set up camp nearby. Everyone else had gone inside; the Delacours insisted that his parents join them for some wine and conversation in the sitting room. It had left Bill with his brothers and Fleur.
Charlie had been the one to suggest their own nightcap out in the orchard since, "I never did get to throw Bill a proper stag night."
"Yes!" had been Fred and George's immediate reaction, while Fleur—who Charlie invited to join them—declined the invitation.
"I am looking for a quiet and restful evening," she explained to Bill. "And I zink I will take advantage of some alone time wiz Gabrielle. But you 'ave fun wiz your brozers." She threw him a sharp look. "But if you drink too much…"
Bill smiled, wrapping his arms around her. "I will be good. Just a couple of drinks with the lads. Then straight to bed."
George, who had appeared at their side then, suddenly quipped, "No worries, Fleur. Fred and I come prepared." He held up a couple of vials of something. "This will give you all the fun of a good drunk night while keeping the hangovers away. We've used it loads of times and it's foolproof. Your boy here will wake up fresh as a daisy."
Fleur raised her eyebrow, not looking as if she entirely believed that, but she did look as if she was putting all of her faith in Bill. And she had no reason not to, because he would not let her down. He was not, nor would he ever be, the type to show up to something significant hungover or still drunk. This was especially true of his own wedding.
"Be good," she told him, kissing him sweetly. When she pulled away, she added rather giddily, "Ze next time I do zat, we will be in front of everyone after we are married!"
Bill smiled wide, kissing her again for a long and slow moment before pulling away and saying, "You mean the next time—"
She cut him off, kissing him again before saying, "Well, now I mean ze next time."
He did the same, and they played this game for several seconds while trading kisses until Fleur giggled and Bill found himself doing the same. There was something so sweet and pure about this and the atmosphere right now, that all he could do was smile at how amazing this feeling was. And tomorrow he would officially get to bottle it.
"Oh, save it for alter!" Fred called out to them.
Bill could practically hear all of his brothers' eyes rolling from where he stood; not that he cared. They could all piss off. He was saying goodnight to the woman that, at this time tomorrow, would be his wife.
After final good nights, he did wander off into the orchard with his brothers; off to spots they all used to frequent as kids when they spent long evenings out under the stars. The twins once again explained how they could promise a hangover free experience, and while Bill still had no intention of drinking too much, he did take the potion just in case. Last thing he wanted to do was get carried away once they really got into the thick of things. He had a tendency to do that around the boys.
"Wait, you did what to the ghoul?" Charlie asked after a couple of glasses of Firewhiskey, an hour's worth of chatter, and loads of shit-talking. The four of them were down by the pond, lobbing stones to see who could get theirs to go the farthest. Somehow the topic of Fred and George helping their father charm their ghoul to resemble Ron came up, which had now opened so many questions from Bill and Charlie.
"So that's what all that shit to do with the ghoul has been about!" Bill yelled out, suddenly seeing things clearly despite being several drinks in. "I kept hearing Ron talk about it—"
"Yeah, see, because once Ron doesn't return to Hogwarts," Fred said, "they're going to come looking for him. And no one can just up and admit he's gone off to help Harry, so Dad's going to tell anyone who stops by that the ghoul is Ron, and he's got Spattergroit."
George was nodding. "So go check on him at your own risk."
Charlie started laughing hysterically, his voice carrying over the pond. "What the fuck…"
"Me, Fred, and Dad have been working lately to perfect the ghoul's look," George added. "Make him look like a real half-alive Ron. Truthfully, it didn't really take that much work. I think we've got him to where he's perfect."
"I think he needs a bit more tweaks," Fred said, lobbing a heavy stone with a loud thud into the water. "We'll get it, though."
"Holy shit, that's amazing," Bill muttered. "I can't believe I'm just now hearing about this."
"You've been busy," George said. "And it's not as if we're advertising it. Mum doesn't have any idea. She'd likely have kittens if she knew."
"But she'll thank us once people turn up looking for Ron and it turns out there's an actual plan in place," Fred said.
It grew quiet for a moment, with only the sounds of rocks splashing in the water and small grunts of efforts being expelled filling the air. It was Charlie who finally said, "Speaking of Ron, did no one think to invite him out here for a drink? Or any of the others?"
They all looked at each other. It was a good question. It was a family affair, after all; Ron was grown now and should be here if they were all here. And if he came, then why not the lot of them? Harry, Hermione, even Ginny.
Then again, the larger the group, the more attention they'd draw. Plus, if they got caught offering Ginny Firewhiskey, their mother would properly have kittens. And leaving Ginny out while her brothers, her friend, and ex boyfriend came along seemed wrong. It was probably best that it was just the four of them.
"He ran inside with Harry and Hermione after Scrimgeour left," George finally said. "I assume they had shit to do. You know, since they always have shit to do."
"Yeah, they seemed busy," Fred agreed. "If anyone asks, we'll just call this an intimate gathering of the eldest Weasley boys."
"Well, that's not entirely true, now is it?" Bill said, turning away from the pond to go and plop down on a nearby patch of grass. "We're missing the one smack in the middle of us, aren't we?"
A small chorus of groans and even a boo called out in the dark, though Bill couldn't place who said what. George turned around to mutter, "What are you bringing him up for?"
"Yeah, way to ruin the mood, Bill," Fred said, also turning away from the lake to get some more Firewhiskey. "Reminding everyone that he exists…"
"If we're talking about unpleasant shit," George cut in, following Fred. "Shall I regale everyone with how I lost my ear? The blood loss alone…"
Bill laughed, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "I was just saying it wasn't a factual statement. We're not the four eldest."
Fred and George were both rolling their eyes and mumbling something about "technicalities" and "semantics" as they helped themselves to more to drink, but Bill could barely make them out over Charlie turning to look him dead in the eyes and ask, "Did you invite him to the wedding?"
Everyone got quiet and glanced at Bill. He, in turn, did nothing more than sigh and say, "Yeah, I did."
This time, he knew exactly who booed him—and it was Fred and George just a couple of feet away from his face. He, however, was all too experienced at tuning them out and was still focused on Charlie's curious expression.
"Why?"
Bill shrugged. "It was less that I invited him, and more that I didn't stop mum from doing it. She begged me and Fleur to include him, and truthfully, what did it matter? We all know he wasn't coming. I get to look like the bigger person and he gets to look like the one who made his choice not to come." He sipped on his drink. "Whatever.'
A heavy silence filled the scene after that, until Charlie said, "I don't even remember the last time I saw him."
"Lucky you," said George.
"We saw him at Christmas," Fred muttered as he plucked blades of grass up from the ground. "He's just as obnoxious as always. You're not missing anything."
"Wait, I take it back. I do remember," Charlie said absently, slowly strolling over to sit beside Bill, the four of them forming a circle formation there in the grass. He grabbed the bottle from Fred and swigged straight from it.
"It was the first task of the Triwizard Tournament. I was there with the dragons and he was there with the Ministry doing whatever it is he does. He came up talking to me in a way that didn't seem like he wanted to actually see me, but he wanted to—I don't know—prove that he knew the bloke dealing with all the dragons? As if he wanted people to know he was well connected and knew people, you know?"
Bill nodded because he did know. That was exactly the type Percy had become in the last few years. Or maybe he was always that way on some level, but they were just now seeing it at its worst.
But he knew what Charlie was alluding to. Not that he and Percy had spoken outside of Christmas day since Bill had come home to England, but he could easily see a scenario where his brother walked into Gringotts and asked not to speak to his brother, Bill Weasley—but rather, he'd like to speak to Director of Securities, Bill Weasley.
Titles first; family second. Or maybe third…
"Fuck, Percy is somehow killing a good time and he's not even here," George muttered, letting himself lie back in the grass. "Let's talk about anything else."
More silence, until Charlie finally looked over at Bill. "You're going to be someone's fucking husband tomorrow."
Bill smiled, nodding a bit, all while Fred offered, "I mean, if the wedding night goes as it should, he'll be someone's fucking husband in more ways than one."
That earned him a small chuckle, though Charlie immediately attempted to regain control of the topic. "I'm serious though. That's madness, Billy." He reached out and shook his shoulder. "That's so bloody grown up. I can't even imagine ever getting serious enough about anyone to marry them, but here you are, madly in love and ready to bond yourself for life." He looked out over the pond. "Madness."
"Yeah," Bill said. "But I'm telling you now, I've never been so sure about something in my life. From the day I proposed, I've never once had second thoughts or wondered if this was the right decision. I can't explain it, but—" He looked up at the twins, who were sitting across from him, "when you know, you just know."
They both offered up identical lazy, but sincere smiles. Charlie said, "Well, I'm glad you found Fleur because she's good for you."
Bill nodded, taking a deep breath before raising his glass and adding, "She is. And I hope you all find the same kind of person for yourselves. That you all find this kind of happiness."
Charlie held up his glass as well, "Well, I'll cheers to that, even if I'm not entirely sure I want that sort of happiness."
As they all clinked glasses, Bill asked, "You don't want to find happiness now?"
"That's not what I said, I'm only saying there are different kinds of happiness and I'm not sure your definition is my definition, but—" He looked directly at Bill. "Let's just agree that we're all wishing each other happiness. Whatever that may be."
Bill shrugged. "Fair enough. Cheers."
Another peaceful silence fell over the group as they sipped and drank their Firewhiskey. Until Fred cut in with, "Well, the current source of my happiness hinges on getting to chat up some of these fit French cousins Fleur's got visiting tomorrow."
That got the group to laugh, all while Charlie let his interest pique at the idea of attractive cousins being at the wedding. The twins were now filling him in on all the details they'd heard.
They stayed up talking and drinking until midnight, apparently going through a bottle and a half of Firewhiskey despite Bill not feeling as if he'd had more than two glasses. Whatever it was the twins had provided in a pinch had worked, and when he and Charlie finally turned in for the night, both of them seemed as normal as ever. A part of Charlie seemed to think something was wrong with that.
"I understand you need to be in proper shape for tomorrow, but not getting pissed for your stag night feels wrong."
But Bill had been happy to wake up—just as George had said—feeling perfectly fine. The way his mother had come knocking on their door to get them up, it was clear to him that had he been hungover, his morning would have been absolute hell. Instead, he got to enjoy a leisurely day hanging out with Charlie before the pair of them had to get themselves dressed and ready.
That was where they currently were, in the sitting room, both in their nicest dress robes, still being faced with a clearly confused Ron who evidently wanted to know why he hadn't been invited to the prior night's festivities.
"You ran off last night before we had a chance to ask you," Fred told Ron. "You were welcome to come join us."
"I didn't know you were doing it!" Ron said, pulling a face.
"Well, whose fault is that?" George said.
Ron's face was starting to twist itself into something annoyed when Charlie suddenly held up his hand in a peace making gesture.
"Tell you what. I was going to have Bill have a quick drink with me before we went out there, to help his nerves—"
"I'm not nervous."
Charlie ignored him. "But instead, let's make it a group effort, yeah?" He went and retrieved his bottle, all while charming the same glasses Bill had on the night of Mad-Eye's death to come floating over from the cupboard.
Ron, who still seemed miffed, did look somewhat satisfied with this consolation; Charlie proceeded to pour and pass around glasses. Once they all had one, Charlie raised his glass and looked over at Bill.
"You have anything you want to say? It is your day."
He let himself acknowledge that, glancing from face to face. "Right. Yeah. Well, thanks, lads for being here and for being here for me. I'd make a joke about how you're all just here because you're family," he looked at Harry's disguised face, "Or close to it, and that mum's making you be here, but as we've learned, family doesn't always mean showing up." He looked down and then back up again. "But you all did. So thank you for that."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Fred said. "I'm only here because mum made me."
They laughed; Charlie reached out and gave Fred a shove and a low sounding, "Can you be serious for five seconds?"
Bill smiled. "Fred. George. You're pains in my arse—"
They both smiled as if that were a compliment.
"But wouldn't trade either of you for all the gold in Gringotts. Fleur often says you two have always been genuine with her since day one and treated her the same then as you do now, which…" He sighed, "not everyone in this family can claim, so thank you for that."
"You're welcome," Fred said, putting on an overly saccharine smile.
"Yes, what a lovely sentiment," George said with his own matching smile. "We do aim to please."
Bill turned to Ron. "And Ron, same sort of thing. You've always been good to Fleur, if not a bit…" he paused, searching for the word, " awkward around her back at the start."
"A bit?" Fred and George said in unison, with George adding, "He couldn't even talk to her for months. Just stared and stammered like a dope."
Fred was nodding. "That's not a bit…"
"No one asked either of you…" Ron mumbled.
"But you've grown," Bill cut in before the boys could properly go at it. "Shit, have you grown since you're taller than all of us now, but know I appreciate you being supportive of us in your own way." He took a beat pause. "Even if it took you some time to not be such a wally around her."
A chuckle traveled through the group and Ron's ears went a bit pink, though he didn't argue and—to further show he was growing and maturing—took the comment in stride with a begrudged smile. He muttered, "I get it. But I've come a long way, alright. I'm not a complete idiot around girls anymore."
"Ah yes, but you'll always be our complete idiot regardless," Fred said, giving him a pat on the shoulder.
"The role you were born to play," quipped George.
Ron was rolling his eyes, just as Charlie said, "Let's see you prove that, Ronnie, and make good on your statement. If I don't catch you asking Hermione to dance tonight—"
More laughter, but it was good-natured and very much in agreement with Charlie's statement. Fred and George were even now trying to place a bet with Harry as to whether Ron would actually do something about it, all while Ron told everyone to mind their own business and worry about their own lives.
"Hold on," Bill said, talking over the chatter. "I wasn't done with my toast."
He then looked at Charlie, who looked back at him as if he'd actually been hoping he was finished. He was forcing that goofy smile of his, the one that somehow managed to flip from playful to genuine with barely a shift of his features. It was a skill they had to read to each other so well, and it wasn't lost on Bill that even with his scarred face looking as it did now, Charlie hadn't missed a beat and could still know what he was thinking with just a look.
"Charlie, Charlie, Charlie…" he said. "What can I even say?"
"Uhhh…piss off, you old goat?" Charlie offered.
Bill shook his head. "No, I'm going to be nice."
"Shit," Charlie said through an awkward laugh, purposely deflecting. He'd always been awkward under sentimental attention and they all knew that. He never knew what to do when someone praised him for something other than his knowledge of magical creatures or Quidditch. It was why he was always cracking jokes to keep the emotional stuff at bay.
"I know you hate this stuff," Bill said. "People telling you how much you mean to them."
"I really do," Charlie said with another awkward laugh while simultaneously taking a deep breath.
"Especially in front of other people."
Fred, George, and Ron were smirking as if amused. This was a rare sight; Charlie didn't let himself get put in the awkward seat very often. His power of escaping emotional interactions was truly legendary. Any other day, he probably would have just walked out of the room and told everyone to stop being so bloody sappy.
It was just who he was. It was why he struggled with making any real attachments in relationships and could never see himself settling down, it was why he preferred animals and creatures to people, it was why he had no problem being the one to pop in and out of people's lives once or twice a year.
It was why he never let anyone truly in. The lone exception always being...
Bill smiled at him. "But I'll keep it short. You're the best friend anyone could ask for, and somehow I got lucky enough to have you around all the time as my brother. You've been nothing but supportive of my relationship with Fleur since…hell, even before I asked her out and before you even knew her name. If it hadn't been for your advice, I may not have even asked her. I'd likely be much less happier than I am right now, and I'm not only talking about just with Fleur, but my entire life in general. My life is better because you're in it, and…" He shrugged. "That's why you're my best man."
There was a smile somewhere there in Charlie's expression, but you could barely see it as he stared at the floor as if his life depended on it. Bill had a sneaking suspicion that Charlie would rather die than have anyone else in that room catch his face fighting off an emotional reaction right now, and Bill knew better than to call any more attention to it. If he kept standing there smiling and staring at him, Charlie might very well attempt to curse him.
He glanced back at his brothers and Harry, all of whom had small smiles and not a single snarky comment to be said. "Right. Well…" He grinned at Harry. "Harry."
Harry—or Barny's face—stared back at him, seemingly surprised to be addressed. He looked as if felt like he was intruding on something private, but little did he know how much of a part he'd played in all of this.
"You have no idea how much you had to do with Fleur and I getting together, even if none of it was your choice. It's shit that all of this is so much bigger than you, or any of us, but know Fleur and I think the world of you and support you in whatever it is you do. I know we can't know everything you're up to, but—"
He held up his glass, a finality in his tone that he wanted people to know meant he was done. "I wish you nothing but luck."
"Cheers," everyone else said in mixed unison, clinking glasses and taking their drink.
Harry, who almost seemed as awkward as Charlie had under everyone's gazes, managed to muster a quick smile before clearing his throat and saying, "Er—thanks. But it's you I should be wishing good luck to. Today's your day."
"Yeah, let's stop being sentimental sods," Charlie said, having caught Bill's eyes and offering him a look that said both " I love you" but also, " I can't take this shit anymore, so please talk about something else…"
Luckily for Charlie, a distraction came in the form or a sudden voice from the kitchen. It was their father, who was calling out, "Molly. Muriel's arrived. She says she has something for Fleur."
"Because I do have something for her," Muriel's shrill voice could be heard saying. "My goblin-made tiara that's been in my family for generations. Molly's well aware, Arthur. Also, has this kitchen somehow become smaller since I last visited? Come to think of it, the whole house looks as though it needs some work…"
"Nope," Fred said, draining what little drops he had in his glass before hastily setting it down and bolting for the opposite door. George had done the same thing and was already muttering, "The less Muriel I have to deal with the better."
Ron was nudging Harry, muttering something about following the twins if they knew what was good for them, and they too were out the front door and headed toward the back garden where the wedding was to be with barely a word.
From beside Bill, Charlie's face had dropped off. He took a large swig from his Firewhiskey bottle. "With Muriel around, I'm going to need more of this."
At the same moment, footsteps from up the stairs turned into Ginny, who was all dressed up in a lovely gold gown and looking very grown up. Her eyes were already scanning the room, clearly in search of something.
Charlie nearly choked on his Firewhiskey at the sight of her, spluttering out, "Gin, what…? You look like you're my age."
She flashed a cheeky smile, apparently taking that as a compliment. "Why thank you." She looked around. "Where's Muriel? I heard dad calling."
"Kitchen," Bill said, "though I think she's gone upstairs the other way."
She nodded, walking over to where both of them were standing. "I thought she might, that's why I decided to come down and avoid her for as long as I could." She looked them both up and down. "You both look nice."
"As do you," Bill said, smiling at her. "You look lovely. How's Fleur?"
Ginny smiled. "Perfect, as always. Very keen to see you." She glanced at Charlie and his Firewhiskey. "Can I have some?"
Charlie threw her a look. "I said you look twenty-five, not that you are…"
"Come on, Charlie—" Ginny said, though he was saved any further comment by their father appearing in the room, smartly dressed in his own robes, and giving the three of them a once over. He smiled fondly.
"Looking good, Billy," he said in a meaningful way. "It's three o'clock now and everyone should be arriving. I've just told the boys outside to get ready to usher the guests to their seats and we should be starting shortly." He looked Bill in the eyes. "You ready?"
"Yeah, it's your last chance to back out," Charlie joked, earning him an elbow from Ginny.
Bill ignored his brother, but smiled back at his father and offered a quick nod. "I'm ready."
"Oh, Fleur, it iz c'est magnifique!"
It truly was, Fleur thought as she stared down at the stunning silver tiara that had just been presented to her. It was resting on padded velvet in a sizable, black box; somehow glittering magnificently even just in the traces of natural light of Molly Weasley's bedroom. There were diamonds and moonstones embossed in the delicate silver work; the entire piece really was breathtaking.
That was a relief.
Fleur wouldn't admit it out loud, but given everything she knew about Bill's Aunt Muriel prior to today, she had been slightly hesitant to see this famed tiara she was to wear down the aisle. Molly had sworn up and down it was gorgeous; that it would look perfect on her, but Molly and she had always been very different in their tastes. While the idea of a regal looking tiara had been rather fairy tale in her head, Fleur would be lying if she wasn't afraid that it would look very different than what she'd been led to believe.
It didn't help that she hadn't been able to see it until this very moment—a half an hour before the ceremony. Muriel had been insistent that she would not part with it until the day of the wedding, telling Molly she would personally hand deliver it upon arrival. Bill had informed everyone that she hadn't even retrieved it from her vault at Gringotts until two days ago, and that she had nearly changed her mind about that once she saw that it was taking hours for people to get to their vaults, even with appointments.
Thankfully, Bill had pulled some strings to get her in as quickly as he could. He'd even offered to take her key and retrieve it for her personally—which would have been the fastest method—but that again wasn't something she was interested in doing. She seemed very protective of it.
"It iz amazing," Fleur said, looking up at Muriel, who was still holding the box out to display the tiara for everyone in the room to view.
"Yes, I know," said Muriel matter-of-factly. "Goblin-made and practically priceless. It's been in my family for generations."
Fleur forced a smile. Yes. She was well aware.
From beside her, Fleur's mother had delicately removed the tiara and was now ushering Fleur over in front of the full-length mirror so that they could place it and work out the last few touches to her hair. Molly was positively beaming, clearly happy that Fleur and her mother were pleased. Even Gabrielle, who had taken to sitting on the edge of the Weasleys' bed, was now craning her neck to get a look, asking if the tiara was real.
"Oui," said Fleur's mother excitedly, suddenly waving at her youngest daughter to stand up so that she would not wrinkle her gown.
"Now, let me explain to you the proper way to wear my tiara," Muriel said, having also followed Fleur's mother over to the mirror as if she couldn't be more than three feet away from the tiara. She took it back from Fleur's mother rather hastily, holding it up over Fleur's head and adding, "There is a right way and a wrong way—"
She suddenly looked from Fleur's mother back to Molly. "Does she even speak English?"
"Well enough," Fleur said cooly, resisting the urge to roll her eyes as Molly stepped forward to let her aunt know that, outside of Gabrielle, everyone could understand what was being said very well.
In the mirror's reflection, Fleur caught her mother giving her a look as if to silently ask who this woman thought she was; Fleur had no qualms responding to her—in French—that she was a grumpy old bat who was exceptionally hard to deal with; however, she had been the one to sell Bill and her their new home at a steal of a price, so they were currently tolerating this nonsense.
Gabrielle giggled at that. Given the look on Muriel's face, she wasn't fond of all this French.
"I don't know if you have any experience with proper tiaras," Muriel said, stepping right up beside Fleur's mother and sounding as if she were addressing a small child, "but seeing as I do, it's important to know proper placement…"
Fleur sighed, deciding to turn out this disruption to her otherwise calm and peaceful day. To her credit, her mother seemed to also be trying to maintain a sense of peace since she was biting her tongue and letting Muriel lecture her. Fleur could just catch Gabrielle in the mirror's reflection, wrinkling her nose at the scene. Molly looked as if she were ready to jump in a moment's notice to defuse any tension.
With a calming breath, Fleur chose to focus on how lovely everyone looked. Her mother in particular, in her elegant robes of shimmery blue with her hair pulled up in an effortless looking updo, looking like the classic beauty she was. Gabrielle was picture perfect and adorable in her golden gown, her beautiful, silvery blonde hair cascading down around her shoulders and curled at the ends. Even Molly looked positively radiant in new amethyst colored robes and a matching hat that Fleur had on good authority Molly was very excited about wearing. The rumor was that this was the first time Molly had treated herself to proper new dress robes in ages. Perhaps decades.
Even Ginny, who'd left the room the moment she'd heard Muriel was coming up, had looked gorgeous in her gold dress, with her fiery red hair down and creating a stunning sort of blend between the two colors. Fleur had even heard Molly admit that the dress looked amazing on her daughter, though she also felt the need to comment that it made her look "far too grown."
But she hadn't cried, which was good. As it were, the matriarch of the Weasley family had kept having weepy, emotional moments throughout the course of the day; either about how grown all of her children had become, how sad she was that she couldn't have all of them present in one place on such a special day, or how she couldn't believe her "little boy" was going to be married. At one point, she'd begun tearing up over the fact that they'd even managed to get to this day after everything that everyone had been through.
Thankfully, the tears had stopped for now. Fleur's mother—who had helped to do everyone's hair and makeup—had pulled Molly aside to have a heart to heart with her in private, likely to the tune of saving her tears for the ceremony and not letting her makeup go to waste beforehand.
And that was what Fleur appreciated the most about her mother—her cool head and calm nature in situations like this. She also had a child getting married today—her little girl—but she was treating it less like a loss of the young girl Fleur was, and more like the start of a new adventure. It was one of the many reasons Fleur admired her mother so much because she didn't insist on holding onto the past or the way things were—she embraced change and encouraged it.
Muriel, meanwhile, was still droning on and on about tiara placement; to the point that Fleur's mother was standing back and letting Muriel do things how she wanted. Her expression to Fleur in the mirror very much, "We'll fix it later…"
"Mrs. Weasley," came a voice that was quickly discovered to be Hermione's, a soft knocking on the door frame following. "Hi, I've just run out of Sleekeazy Hair Potion, and Ginny had mentioned you might have some. She's gone downstairs—"
"Oh, yes, of course, dear," said Molly, disappearing over toward where a collection of various makeups, lotions, and potions were all strewn across the Weasleys' dresser after having been used throughout the day. "Come right over…"
"Thank you," said Hermione, who Fleur could now see in the mirror looking very lovely in a lilac dress and matching heels. She was so used to seeing Hermione in her everyday clothes with her full, thick hair, that it was almost as if she was looking as a different person when she took the time to properly dress up.
Hermione caught her eye in the mirror as she passed through the room, clearly witnessing how Muriel was still annoyingly fiddled with her tiara. Hermione let herself smile politely, offering up an equally polite sounding, "Fleur, you look beautiful," before she allowed Molly's hair potion to be handed to her.
Fleur smiled. She couldn't help but think after all the work she'd put into getting ready—all the poking and prodding she'd let people do to her today—she better look beautiful.
"Thank you."
Hermione moved toward the door to excuse herself, though as she did, she apparently caught Muriel's attention. The old woman stopped what she was doing and snapped her head in her direction.
"Who are you?"
Hermione blinked. "Oh, hello."
"This is Hermione," Molly offered. "She's Ron's friend. She comes and stays with us quite often over summer holidays. Hermione, this is my Auntie Muriel—"
"Is she that Muggleborn you've mentioned?" Muriel cut in.
Hermione let her eyes flash in an obvious way, almost as if she found that specific descriptor of herself rather empty.
"Um, yes," Molly said. "She and Ron are very close friends and have been for years—"
Muriel turned her attention back to her tiara. "And she's the one you said he fancies?"
Fleur couldn't help but laugh a bit at that, watching as both Molly and Hermione's eyes went a bit wide with surprise. Molly immediately started mumbling something about, "Oh, I don't know if I actually said…" While Hermione looked down at her hair potion bottle and said, "I should go finish my hair…" before moving to excuse herself
Muriel, who seemed completely unperturbed by everything that had just occurred, said quite clearly and just as loudly, "Well, she seems pretty enough, but her posture needs work. It was bad. Not to mention the skinny ankles…"
Fleur wasn't even sure Hermione had finished leaving the room—she'd likely heard that—but she could only hope someone in this family had already spoken to her about not taking Muriel's comments or opinions to heart. Even Fleur's mother, who had returned to the mirror, was now staring at her as if wondering what on earth possessed this woman to keep talking.
"Mum," came the unmistakable sound of Ginny's voice, the rest of her appearing in the reflection of the mirror a moment later. "Dad's been just looking out the window and says many of the guests have arrived. He's wondering how much more time you think you need?"
It seemed Muriel took Ginny's comment as a sign to finally leave the tiara be, claiming that it would, "Have to do." She stepped back so that Fleur could observe herself in the mirror, while her own mother had quickly moved forward to adjust pieces of hair and smooth out part of her dress. She was already requesting Gabrielle grab the lipstick so that they could reapply it.
Things suddenly felt a blur. There were noises and voices all around—Muriel loudly proclaiming she would be going down to get her seat now; Molly telling Ginny that she should give herself a quick and final check; her mother tending to every last detail of her look, commenting that she looked simply stunning and, for the first time, seeming as if could actually cry; Gabrielle tugging on her mother's sleeve and asking for a touch up on her own lipstick; the sounds and hum of voices in the distance arriving for the wedding.
For her wedding.
She took yet another deep breath and looked at herself in the mirror, staring right back at the woman in the reflection. Here she was, a few short months away from being twenty-one and nothing like the image she'd once thought she would grow up to be. Physically she was—still just as beautiful and poised as ever. Her dress couldn't possibly fit her any better, both flowy and fitted in all the right spots. Her makeup only accentuated all her lovely features; her hair was perfectly lying over her shoulders without a single strand out of place. The tiara really did set the whole look off—she looked amazing. She looked exactly as she'd always imagined she would on her wedding day.
But she didn't feel at all like the person she'd once imagined she would be when getting married. As a girl, playing pretend with her cousins, she'd assumed the best; that she would be a much less haunted woman with far less trauma and scars. She would have never imagined having to witness so much deaths at such a young age—especially on account of them being murders.
She never would have imagined her goals in life were no longer simply to find a well paying job, marry a handsome man with an equally well paying job, start a family, and live comfortably. Her goals now were ideas that her ten-year-old self would have found insane: to fight to survive a war; to defend her loved ones and friends through whatever means necessary; to stop an evil bigger than anything she could have possibly imagined from taking over.
Life was certainly different under this very real tiara versus the plastic ones she used to don as a little girl.
A male voice out in the corridor gave her a start and snapped her back into the room. Molly could be heard saying, "We're all in here," before Fleur's father responded with, "Oui? Iz everyone good?"
He poked his head around the corner and into the room, looking then as if he'd been punched rather hard in the head. He grabbed his chest, as if faking pain, and said, "Je n'ai pas vu une telle beauté depuis le jour de mon propre mariage!"
He hadn't seen such beauty since his own wedding day.
There were smiles all around, including Molly, who once again looked as if she could cry. It was Ginny who suggested they should give the Delacours a moment, to which Molly readily agreed as she made to leave.
Ginny dawdled briefly behind her mother, a half smile on her face as she said, "Just so you know, Fleur. I've never seen Bill look as excited as I did a few minutes ago."
Fleur didn't even attempt to hide her smile; her excitement at seeing him—at seeing his reaction—simply filled her with butterflies. For the first time all day, she even felt a bit overwhelmed with emotion—something her mother was immediately trying to calm out of her so as to not mess up her face.
With a few deep breaths and her father now telling silly stories of how he almost knocked over the wedding cake on his big day, Fleur did manage to regain her composure. It was more difficult than she'd thought because after a year of waiting, planning, postponing, and re-planning—a year of so much change and uncertainty—for once she knew exactly what she was about to do.
And that was to happily walk down that aisle and marry the man of her dreams.