Harry Potter and the Seventh Serpent
Summary: Follows directly on from the end of book six – the search for the Horcruxes
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairings: Bill/Fleur, Lupin/Tonks, Ron/Hermione, Hermione/OC, Ginny/OC, Harry/Ginny, Gabrielle/Harry…some surprise pairings I don't want to spoil, and more I've either forgotten about or haven't decided on yet
Warnings: Bad language, violence, character death…and probably slash, knowing me
Disclaimer: I own the plot, and any OCs who appear. Harry and Co belong to JKR
Author's Note: Uh, yes…finally an update. And just to warn you, updates will not be frequent. I'm taking my big, important, determine-whether-or-not-I-can-go-to-university exams in…five months and counting. Ergo: a massive mountain of homework is being dumped on me by all teachers. As such I will only be updating this (And the other six or so fics I'm working on) in between my attempts at the Sisyphean task of doing all this work. All the time with those bloody exams hanging over me like the Sword of Damocles (Yes, I'm in a Greek Mythology mood) Anyway, please don't harass me for updates. I need straight A's and sadly my fics must suffer for me to get them…until June anyway. Then come the summer holidays when I can write 24/7 ::wink:: I promise I'll make it up to you then
Chapter 3 – Flowers
Wherein Harry and Ron discover why Women dislike Female Veela, and Ginny and Hermione are Smitten
The days passed quickly in such pleasant company. Before long it was morning of the next Friday, and Mrs. Weasley was compulsively cleaning the entire house yet again. Harry and Ron were awoken at some ungodly hour by their curtains being ripped open, blinding sunlight flooding the bedroom. Ron gave a moan of protest and buried his head under his pillow while Harry propped himself up on one elbow and raised an arm to shield his eyes.
"'Sgoin'on?" he asked sleepily; "Time's it?"
"It's eight o'clock," Mrs. Weasley said briskly, dusting the spotless and gleaming windowsill vigorously; "They'll be here soon, get washed and dressed quickly!"
She left again, carrying their dirty laundry from the previous day under her arms. Ron pulled the covers over his head again, but Harry somehow managed to convince his limbs that they wanted to function. "First in the shower," he said and stumbled into their bathroom.
In the week or so he had been at Headquarters, Harry had already mostly unpacked his things; all his clothes were with Ron's in the large wardrobe, assorted posters and photographs were tacked to the walls, and their possessions and books were scattered about the place. After all, since he had left the Dursleys and wasn't going back to Hogwarts, he would be living there indefinitely. The room already felt more like home than his room – or cupboard – at Privet Drive ever had. His birthday party the previous week had certainly been an extremely enjoyable affair, and he enjoyed being able to use magic legally out of school now.
He came out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel and feeling substantially more awake, as Ron finally levered himself out of bed. Harry rummaged in the wardrobe for clothes as Ron slammed the bathroom door. It was already getting a bit difficult to tell which clothes were his and which were Ron's.
He pulled on a worn pair of jeans with tattered ends and rips in the knees. He hesitated with one hand hovering over a pile of t-shirts – he would want to look at least semi-presentable if Fleur's family were arriving today…eventually he picked out a navy-blue shirt, worn with use but extremely comfortable. Feeling ready to face the world, he ran his hands through his hair and went downstairs.
"Where's Ron?" Mrs. Weasley asked him as he entered the kitchen.
"Still in the shower," Harry replied, picking up an apple from the fruit basket on the counter.
"He'd better hurry up, they'll be here soon," she fretted; "If you want to see Hermione, I think she's in the library."
Harry headed for the library, which was on the ground floor at the rear of the house. Hermione wasn't in the main room, but Harry thought he heard movement in the small private study room just off it. As it happened, he walked straight into Hermione as they both tried to go though the door at the same time; "Sorry, Hermione!"
"It's okay," she said, dusting herself down, "I'm fine." She was wearing black trousers of some canvas-like material and a loose white shirt that was far too big for her. Her bushy brown hair was pinned up loosely, stray tendrils escaping to fall down on either side of her face.
"You look nice," Harry said without thinking; "But whose shirt is that?"
"Well I got it out of Ginny's trunk," Hermione replied, looking down at herself; "But I think it used to be Charlie's. Do you really think I look nice?"
"Of course you do," Harry said honestly. Hermione blushed, but looked pleased.
At this point the doorbell rang loudly, and the previously quiet house erupted in activity. Harry and Hermione made it to the library door in time to see the front door being opened by a very flustered-looking Mrs. Weasley. Seven figures entered as Ron sloped down the stairs, yawning hugely.
Bill and Fleur entered first, she wearing a pale blue summer dress and he his usual leather and dragon hide ensemble. The next two were obviously Fleur's parents, and the rest – a boy and two girls – were presumably her siblings.
"'Arry, 'Ermione!" Fleur said happily, having spotted them; "Come over 'ere and meet my family."
She introduced her parents first. It was obvious that the Veela blood in the family came from her mother's side – even though she had to be almost forty, she was still stunningly beautiful…even more so than Fleur. Her father was an imposing-looking man with greying hair and dark eyes which none of his children had inherited.
"…and zese are my seesters, Gabrielle and Veronique. Gabrielle eez eleven and Veronique eez seexteen." Both sisters looked a great deal like Fleur, with the same silver-blonde hair and bright blue eyes. They seemed to have a little more of their father in them, though, whereas Fleur was the image of her mother. "'Ello 'Arry!" Gabrielle said brightly, blushing a little. Evidently she still remembered the Second Task.
"And zis eez my bruzzer, Marc," Fleur concluded, gesturing towards the last family member. He was perhaps eighteen, and was Fleur in male form. He, like his older sister, had clearly received a greater share of the Veela blood.
Fleur turned back to her family; "Voici est 'Arry at 'Ermione. Ils est les amis de Ron, Bill's petit frere. Et ici allé Ron."
The family politely greeted each of them. When Hermione's turn came, Marc kissed her fingertips and said with a charming smile; "Eet eez a pleasure to meet you, mademoiselle." Hermione gave a very uncharacteristic giggle and blush. Harry saw Ron's ears turn red, and began to understand why Hermione and Ginny had disliked Fleur so much – those with Veela blood had a way of taking all of the opposite sex's attention.
The Delacour family began to settle in over the rest of the day, and the sheer concentration of Veela charm in the house was starting to seriously interfere with everyone else's minds. This time the girls could not roll their eyes at the boys' stupid behaviour – all of them, even Mrs. Weasley and the older women in the Order, tended to blush and drop whatever they were holding when Marc Delacour entered the room. The boy seemed a little bemused by this reaction, but by dinner time was clearly quite annoyed by the way all the males present kept staring at his mother and sisters.
By this time, however, everyone was starting to get used to their presence, and dinner was a lively affair. Ginny and Veronique, who were the same age, seemed to have hit it off instantly. Gabrielle had gotten over her initial shyness but was remaining mostly silent. Fleur's mother and Mrs. Weasley were talking very animatedly about the wedding plans with identical bright smiles on their faces – both were clearly enchanted by the prospect of marrying off their eldest child.
Hermione stayed up late reading in the library, but Harry and Ron decided to have an early night. They were grateful for it the next morning, because by then the wedding was the next day and the house was in uproar. It was to be held in the rooftop garden, and the mothers of both the concerned parties were excited to the point of incoherence. Every female in the house seemed to be similarly affected. The boys had decided to spend as much time as possible hiding.
Currently Harry and Ron were lurking in the library's private study room with Bill, Charlie, Oliver, and Marc. The room was otherwise unoccupied, given that even Hermione had contracted the wedding-fever. Marc was sitting cross-legged on a table reading 'The Red Book of Pyromancy', and Oliver and Charlie – who had apparently been on the Gryffindor House Quidditch team together for two years – were, unsurprisingly, discussing Quidditch. Harry and Ron were making a valiant attempt to distract Bill from the ordeal he would be facing the next day.
"…Ireland won't make the next World Cup final," Oliver said, shaking his head; "Not with Moran out of commission. They're a good set of chasers, but the other two don't work half as well with the first reserve. Bloody bad luck, her getting injured like that."
"Yeah, I suppose so," Charlie conceded; "Wales have got no chance if the way they played against New Zealand is any indication. But England are doing better than last year, and Scotland have put together a pretty strong side…"
"Mum says the twins should be arriving soon," Ron told Bill and Harry; "You should see some of the stuff they've been working on, they could make a fortune if they get it to work."
"Like what?" Harry asked curiously.
"Well, they're trying to adapt Muggle eclectic…sorry, electric things to work in a magical atmosphere like Hogwarts or the Ministry. The only thing is that they can't enchant the actual objects because of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts laws…"
"I can't believe they only got three OWLs each," Bill commented; "No-one's ever been able to do something like that before."
"Yeah," Ron agreed; "And then they're working on something else, very top-secret, they say they're not showing anyone till it's finished."
"Wow," Harry said, impressed.
The twins must have felt a little superfluous when they arrived around two o'clock, because the house had already been overtaken by the kind of chaos that usually only they could cause. It didn't take the nineteen-year-old entrepreneurs long to join the other refugees in the study room.
"We're impressed, big brother," Fred said, throwing a sly grin at Bill.
"Yes," George agreed with an identical expression of evil glee; "While hiding in here doing nothing you've managed to cause the sort of uproar it takes our best efforts to achieve."
"Ha. Ha. Ha," Bill said flatly. Fred and George beamed at him.
"So what's the plan?" Fred asked brightly.
"For what?" Ron said.
"For the wedding, you prat," George said impatiently; "Best man? Bridesmaids? Stag night?"
"Charlie's best man," Bill said, waving a hand towards the eldest of his five brothers; "Ginny, and Fleur's sister Veronique are the bridesmaids, and Gabrielle's the flower girl."
"And the stag night?" the twins chorused. It was plain that this was the part which interested them.
"Tonight," Oliver supplied; "There's some pretty good pubs and clubs around here – I'll take you to a few of my favourites."
"Excellent," Fred and George grinned. They were promptly absorbed into the Quidditch discussion, and Harry and Ron returned to consoling Bill.
When all wedding-related activity had been moved to the rooftop garden, they deemed it safe to emerge. They were lounging in front of the fire in the sitting room when the doorbell rang, and Charlie opened it to admit a rather disgruntled Professor McGonagall.
"You're still in robes," he observed.
"I Apparated right in front of the door," she replied a little irritably, as if she hadn't the time to be dealing with such questions.
"Come in and have seat," Bill called to her; "You look exhausted. How's the Headmistress thing going?"
"…tryingly," she said succinctly, sinking into an armchair; "I still need new teachers for Defense and Transfiguration. I love Hogwarts dearly, but the place is an organisational nightmare…and that's without any students." She paused, as if remembering something; "Do you know where Nymphadora is?"
It took the rest of them a moment to realise she was talking about Tonks. "Still in bed?" Oliver volunteered. McGonagall rolled her eyes and muttered something that sounded rather like typical. In a flash she was gone, sweeping up the stairs in a flurry of robes.
"What d'you suppose that was about?" Ron asked curiously.
"Never mind that," Fred said impatiently; "We have important matters to discuss."
"Yes," George said with a wicked grin; "The stag night."
TO BE CONTINUED
"Voici est 'Arry et 'Ermione. Ils est les amis de Ron, Bill's petit frere. Et ici allé Ron" – Here are Harry and Hermione. They are friends of Ron, Bill's little brother. And here comes Ron. (More or less…I'm to lazy to go find my French dictionary)