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

Dedicated to the beloved and thoroughly cameo-ed Alix; my most faithful reader and reviewer. Love ya, honey.

Chapter 5 – The Wedding

Wherein Molly is Tearful, and Bill and Fleur are finally, irrevocably, Married

There is nothing quite as superfluous as a man before a wedding. The boys, having partaken heavily of Hermione's disgusting-but-useful Hangover Potion, had changed into their dress robes and were hanging around uselessly in the library once more.

"Guess what I just heard!" Ginny said brightly, walking into the room. Harry shut his mouth – it had fallen open when he caught sight of her. She was wearing an elegantly cut dress in pale gold. Waves of copper hair spilled from an elegant pile atop her head and there was a hint of makeup around her eyes. She looked absolutely stunning.

"Fleur's finally come to her senses and done a runner?" George volunteered. Bill glared at him, but he just laughed.

"No…" Ginny said in a long-suffering tone; "Are you done?"

George seemed to consider this; "I suppose so," he conceded eventually.

"Good," she smiled; "I hear that McGonagall's asked Tonks to be the new Defense professor!"

This statement met with a perplexed silence, and Harry knew that everyone else was doing the same thing as him: comparing a mental picture of Tonks with a mental picture of a professor. He couldn't speak for the others, but he personally couldn't get the two images to meet anywhere.

"Seriously?" Charlie said after a while.

"Yes!" Ginny looked around at them with obvious frustration; "Oh, I give up!" She turned and walked out, muttering to herself about the insensitivity and mental inadequacy of males in general.

"Still not seeing it," George said, shaking his head.

"Remember Professor Stormhaven?" Bill asked Charlie with a reminiscent smile.

"Merlin yes – what a battleaxe," he noted the blank looks on the younger faces present; "The Defense Professor when we were at school – ex-Auror, complete nutcase. Sort of like a female version of Moody."

"Scary," said Ron. Harry – who had just acquired an extremely disturbing mental image of Mad-eye Moody in drag – could only shudder in agreement.

Before long the house was in complete uproar: Fleur's mother had burst into tears upon seeing her daughter in her wedding dress and had to be taken away by her husband for a calming cup of tea (with a generous shot of Firewhiskey).The kitchen was strictly off limits – Mindy was in a state of near-hysterical happiness over the sheer amount of cooking that had to be done. Unusually, neither Hermione nor Mrs. Weasley had objected. Hermione was in a very strange, uncharacteristic mood which could only be described as…well, girly. And Mrs. Weasley was trying to do everything at once, in between intermittently sobbing over the fact that her 'little boy was all grown up and getting married'. After that tearful proclamation, Fred and George in particular were laughing so hard they had been incapable of coherent speech for quite some time.

But finally – at long, long last, after much chaos and arguing – it was time for the wedding.

Everyone without an essential part to play in the wedding was shepherded to the rooftop garden. There were no chairs: all the guests stood in a loose circle two rows deep around a raised dais. Harry was standing between Oliver – who had turned up at about three in the afternoon looking very tired and very, very smug – and Ron.

The roar of traffic and thousands of people passing by was muted by the shields around the garden, and what little managed to get through was drowned out by the twittering of birds and the murmured conversation of the gathered family and friends. The garden was green and pleasant, with trees casting dappled shadows on the ground and the rich scent of flowers drifting on the breeze.

"So, what's going to happen now?" Harry asked, looking around curiously.

"Oh yeah, you've never been to a wizard wedding before," Ron said; "See, usually they get a respected elder witch or wizard – s'usually a witch, not sure why – to do the actual bonding, but what happens is-"

"Hey, don't spoil the surprise," Oliver said; "Don't worry, Harry, it's not as long or as boring as a Muggle wedding."

There was a lull in the conversation amongst the expectant crowd, and everyone turned to look expectantly at the sole gap in the circle. Professor McGonagall entered with an uncharacteristically misty smile on her lips and walked purposefully towards the dais. Following behind her were Charlie – who was grinning his head off – and Bill, who looked like he wasn't sure whether to rejoice or run away. The three took up their respective positions on the dais.

"Friends and family," McGonagall began; "We are here to witness the bonding ceremony of William Weasley and Fleur Delacour. In the midst of such darkness as we have been forced to deal with in recent times, we should be grateful for the reminder that love can flourish under the most adverse of circumstances." This statement met with murmurs of approval from around the circle. Once again silence followed, and every head turned as the bridal procession entered.

Gabrielle was in the lead, scattering a vivid rain of brightly coloured flower petals along the path. She was barefoot, her tiny feet leaving faint impressions on the grass as she walked. Fleur walked a few paces behind her youngest sister, a vision of radiant happiness in pale gold as her blonde hair shimmered in the sunlight. She wore no jewellery; save for the diamond tiara Molly had given her as a peace offering. Ginny and Veronique flanked her. Despite having been less than thrilled at the prospect of acquiring a sister-in-law, the youngest Weasley was as caught up in the excitement and happiness of the day as anyone else.

Finally, the bride and groom stood together, surrounded by their family and friends. Although he had been told that a wizard wedding was shorter than the Muggle variety, Harry was still surprised by just how short and simple the ceremony itself was.

"You shall walk together always, and death itself will not part you. Do you consent to be married, to be bound together for the rest of eternity?"

"I do."

"I do."

The soon-to-be-married couple clasped their left hands together as McGonagall drew her wand and aimed it at their joined hands. The words of three distinct yet complimentary, and overall extremely complicated-sounding incantations seemed to fill the garden as a ribbon of golden light snaked from the end of the wand and twined around their hands.

The golden light shone brighter and brighter and then, abruptly, disappeared. Blinking away the brilliant afterimages, the audience leaned in breathlessly for a closer look: the light had condensed into two golden wedding rings sitting comfortably on the fingers of their respective owners. The air of ceremony evaporated instantly as the guests burst into spontaneous cheering and everyone crowded round to congratulate the new Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.

"I didn't realise it was going to be that short," Harry said as they all made their way downstairs for food, music, and – hopefully – alcohol.

"Why, how long are Muggle weddings?" asked a mystified Ron.

"Long enough that most of the guests are asleep before the halfway point," Hermione said wryly; "I remember my aunt's wedding; I don't think I've ever sat through anything more boring."

"And coming from someone who could stay awake through History of Magic that means a lot," Harry grinned.

When they arrived in the dining room, there was indeed food – assorted buffet trays covering the long table, which had been pushed up against a wall – and atmospheric music which didn't seem to be coming from anywhere in particular. Harry had yet to spot the alcohol, but he was optimistic about its presence nonetheless. He piled a plate high with sausage rolls and assorted other nibbles, while Ron seemed increasingly disappointed about the meager carrying capacity of his own plate and Hermione debated with herself about whether or not her evening should feature mysterious little pastries with a vaguely chicken-tasting filling. Harry was contemplating these same pastries when Charlie wandered over and promptly stole a sausage roll off of his plate.

"Having a good time?" he asked good-naturedly, looking for all the world like he had not just blatantly kidnapped Harry's last sausage roll.

"Yeah," Harry replied; "You don't look like you are, though."

"Well, it just occurred to me," he said; "All these years I've been safe because Mum's been badgering Bill for grandkids. Now she's married him off, I'm going to be getting it."

"Sounds like fun."

"I think I'd rather stick with dragons."

After a while the music because louder and more upbeat, as if someone was telling them that they'd eaten quite enough now and it was time to get down to business. The newly married couple led the first dance; he looking rather relieved, she aglow with happiness. Others joined in, and soon only a few diehard wallflowers remained off the dancefloor. Harry found a convenient corner and lurked determinedly, avoiding eye contact with anyone who might ask him to dance. He grinned as he caught sight of Hermione badgering Ron to dance with her. It was rather amusing from a distance, and he was devoutly grateful that it wasn't him. Not that he particularly objected to dancing; after all, the Yule Ball hadn't been too bad. But the wedding atmosphere had left everyone feeling a bit…couple-y. He'd spent the better part of the evening studiously avoiding Ginny – who, he noted, was currently dancing with George at the far end of the room and giggling uncontrollably at a comment her brother had just made – for fear of awkwardness. He'd just stick with his corner.

Or at least that was the plan. The plan altered somewhat when Hermione came over, muttering to herself irritably. "Honestly, you'd think I was asking him to walk down the street naked. Harry, will you dance with me?" This last part was accompanied by huge, pleading eyes, and somehow Harry found himself quite unable to refuse.

The dance itself wasn't unpleasant, but he got a little uncomfortable when Hermione's muttered rant took a rather personal turn; heading into territory he would rather have avoided. Particularly the bits about a certain 'stupid, stubborn, oblivious' boy who couldn't 'see what's right in front of him', and that she was going to 'give up and move on' if he didn't cotton on soon. She didn't seem to realise she was speaking aloud; Harry continued to happily feign deafness.

As the evening wore on, he found himself being passed from dance partner to dance partner. He danced with Fleur, who beamed at him and said she was glad he was there; and Gabrielle, who flushed bright red every time he touched her and seemed too embarrassed to meet his eyes. Next was Tonks, who apologised intermittently for stepping on his feet and swore loudly every time she tripped over the hem of her dress. Molly insisted on dancing with him as well, which wasn't too bad until she started asking when he was going to find himself a nice girl. He couldn't blame Charlie for preferring the dragons.

At some point a clear, bubbling drink which was rather like champagne but not exactly had been distributed. Charlie gave the traditional best man's speech, which no-one really listened to…but they applauded anyway, so it didn't really matter. Harry raised his glass in salute to the bride and groom like everyone else, and half listened to Fred and George teasing Ron about refusing to dance with Hermione.

The night wore on, and people began to drift upstairs to bed. As he pulled his dress robes off over his head and sagged onto the mattress, it struck Harry that his childhood really was over. Tomorrow he would go to visit Godric's Hollow, and then he would officially join the Order of the Phoenix. No more school. No more being told he was too young to be involved. He was an adult now, and everything that entailed.

Whether this was a good or a bad thing, he wasn't quite sure.

I know you can't see me, but believe me when I say I'm grovelling for reviews