A/N: The next two chapters are heavier on the humor than the drama; consider it a respite of sorts.
To my male readers and fans of Fleur Delacour: I do hope that you enjoy the following chapter. It's a bit heavy on the female bonding moments, but the dialogue and experiences are based on personal moments that I've enjoyed with my own family. And Fleur in this chapter is based on my older sister, whom I love and adore!
I know I've seen Gingersnap as one of Ginny's nicknames before in other stories . . . but for the life of me, I can't remember. So thank you, out there, to whomever thought of that name first. It's so appropriate!
Please check out my two newest one-shots: Face, about a Lavender Brown post-Battle of Hogwarts, and The Ravenclaw Three, about the friendship between Michael Corner, Terry Boot, and Anthony Goldstein. I've been told I understand teenage boys quite well. Which scares me . . . a little.
I own nothing. Thanks to stella8h8chang, for the beta.
Chapter 9: Before the Wedding
"Mum, you missed a spot."
"Where?"
Ginny walked over, munching on a bag of Wizard Crisps (each chip was a different flavor, depending on the mood of the person eating them). She pointed her toe at the piece of lacy hem that her mum hadn't pinned.
Daphne stood stock still, pins sticking into her wrists, marking where Molly Weasley needed to alter the robe's fitted sleeves. She did her absolute best to stifle a groan of impatience. She had been a bit surprised when Molly had offered some old dress robes of hers to wear for the wedding. Molly had referred to the selections as "vintage" and had picked out the ones that she'd thought had potential as wedding-appropriate garb. A couple had caused Daphne to snort in derision, but she'd managed to narrow down the selections to three possible choices.
Ginny had popped into the room and suggested that Daphne pick the long dress robe made entirely of lavender, crocheted lace with a full-length cream-colored slip to line the inside.
After a few moments of jabbing pins here and there and laughing at Daphne's very obvious discomfort with being fitted, Molly and Ginny stood back to admire the dress robes on the Slytherin girl.
"Hmm . . ." Molly smiled and hummed in satisfaction. "You look quite—"
"Oh goodness!" The three women turned and saw Hermione Granger walk into the room, clutching a bottle of butterbeer. "Daphne, is that what you're wearing to the wedding?" She sat on the main bed, and Daphne returned her grin.
Daphne stuck her hip out and held her palm up by her face. "Stunning, aren't I?"
Ginny laughed. "And modest to boot!"
"I think this is really pretty — it's got a very classic look to it."
"Thank you, Hermione." Molly patted her head. "By any definition, it is a classic; I was seventeen years old when I got this set of robes from my parents." Molly bustled around the girls to set her pin cushion and sewing kit on her dresser. "I wore this on the first date I had with Arthur after we graduated." Molly sighed. "We went for a dinner at this little wizarding restaurant that went out of business after the First War. Afterwards, Arthur took me for a stroll around this lovely garden area." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, as if she were smelling a flower. "I even got him to dance with me on a small white bridge . . . the moon was gleaming and he kissed me," Molly touched her lips with the tips of her fingers. "So wonderful! my toes curled up and I just shook all over like jelly—"
Molly snapped out of her reverie as her daughter and Daphne made retching sounds and mock-fainted. Hermione sat on the bed with a goofy grin spreading across her face.
Molly narrowed her eyes. "Well . . . I'd be just fine if you wore a burlap sack. Let me run down to the pantry and find you one—"
Daphne immediately stopped making the retching gesture and Hermione nudged Ginny with her elbow. Daphne hopped off her stool. "Er, I-I mean . . ." she stammered, "that it sounds like you and Mr. Weasley had a positively smashing courtship, and I couldn't be happier that the two of you are so wonderfully matched and perfect." She finished by plastering on the absolutely most insincere grin that she had ever given to anyone.
Molly hummed and chuckled. "Flattery will get you everywhere." Patting her cheek and continuing to giggle, Molly took a final appraisal of Daphne in her old dress robes. "I think we've got where it needs to be on you. It's quite lovely, too."
Daphne turned and looked at herself in the full-length Magical Mirror. She was rather impressed with the dress robes. Molly, with Ginny's running commentary as a backseat tailor, had managed to take in a bit of the waist to give the robes some shape, and shorted length a bit so that the bottom of the robes grazed the top crest of Daphne's feet. The color was dark enough to complement her slightly darker skin, but light enough to be appropriate for an afternoon wedding.
(Eurgh! What the hell do I do with my hair?)
(Stringy, clumpy pile of crap that it is . . .)
As if reading her mind, Molly came up to Daphne. "You know what would be nice? Daphne, do you mind if I try something with your hair?"
Daphne shook her head. "Please. Be my guest!"
"We could do half of your hair down and the other half up in a little bun," Molly said, standing on the other side of Daphne. "We can curl the bottom part of her hair a little bit too. What do you think?"
Daphne was just about nod, when—
"I theenk it ees a great idea, Molly!"
Fleur Delacour had just entered the bedroom, Levitating one tray with glasses and a one rather large wine bottle and couple of butterbeers, and another tray filled with fresh cheeses, biscuits, and some fruit.
"What's all this?" Molly asked her future daughter-in-law.
"Eet ees jus' my way of thanking all of you wiz such 'ard work?" Fleur Conjured up a side table and placed the trays on them. "All work an' no play makes everyone sad. So, I want all of you to eat and drink and we should talk!"
Ginny reached for a wine glass . . . until Molly smacked her hand.
"Ow!"
"You, my still-not-of-age daughter, get the butterbeer!" Molly pointed her finger and shook it vigorously at Ginny, who took a bottle of the weaker stuff that Fleur handed to her, while grumbling under her breath.
Molly, Fleur, Hermione and Daphne each took a glass, and Fleur tipped the bottle so that each glass got approximately the same amount.
"So . . . to all of our 'ealths, 'earts, and 'appiness!" She raised her glass in a toast. The others followed suit, and they each took sips of their respective drinks. Just over the top of her glass, Daphne noticed Ginny's eyes widen after she took her sip. Ginny looked over at Fleur; the French witch gave Ginny a small wink.
The girls slid into seats in the bedroom and Daphne went behind the changing screen so she could return to her normal Muggle clothes and not mess up her "new" dress.
"There will be dancing at this shin-dig, right?" Ginny asked the room, with a bit of a hiccup. Daphne grinned; she suspected that the "butterbeer" Fleur had handed to Ginny had had a small "surprise" for the girl. Daphne just wasn't sure if Fleur had put a little wine in the bottle or maybe firewhisky. Either way, it was quite amusing to watch Ginny grow more and more giggly as they sat in Molly and Arthur's bedroom, drinking, eating and gabbing away.
"Why, of course . . . dancing 'as always been a big part of our weddings." Fleur, laying on her side on the floor, flourished her hand gracefully. "I do not mean to toot my own 'orn, but I am quite zee dancer."
"How's Bill with dancing?" Hermione asked Fleur. Daphne noticed that she had finished her own glass of wine, and her cheeks were quite a bit more red than usual.
Fleur barked out a laugh. "Molly, I mean no disrespect at all—"
"Oh, I'd love to hear whether my son can cut a rug." Molly brought her fingers up to her mouth to stifle a hiccupping laugh.
"—'E is a bit . . . 'ow do you say . . ." Fleur swirled her hand around in circles.
The others leaned in, anticipating an answer.
"'E 'as two left feet."
The ladies fell backwards and laughed.
"Bill? Really?" Daphne looked at Fleur incredulously. "Not a dancer, eh?"
Fleur snickered as she shook her head. "Non. 'E ees a bit stiff. 'As absolutely no rhythm. 'E is still adorable, t'ough . . . make no mistake about zat!" She gave an overly serious look to the still giggling women and sipped the last bit of wine in her glass.
"Oh, Fleur, top me off would you?" Molly held out her glass to give her better access with the wine bottle. Fleur complied with the request.
"I'm not much of a dancer myself," Daphne piped up. She was feeling a bit giddy and light-headed from just polishing off her glass. "Guess I'll just bop along to the music or something and watch the festivities." She allowed Fleur to fill up goblet.
"Or, maybe we should invite Mister Corner to the wedding?" Ginny asked slyly.
Daphne spluttered into her wine.
"As in Michael Corner?" Molly asked. "Was he the boy that you were with two years ago?"
Ginny nodded. "Yup! And apparently, he's got himself a thing for our . . . wait, what does he call you, Daphne? Ah! Our fair Miss Greengrass!"
Daphne blushed as Fleur, Ginny and Hermione "ooohed" in exaggerated teasing.
"Ginny," Molly gently chided, "I think she's embarrassed."
Daphne coughed into her wine. "No big deal . . . we're just friends right now—"
"Friends who share empty classrooms and alone time together?" Ginny said, moving her head to and fro, hiccuping again and taking another swig of the butterbeer. Daphne shot her a glare and briefly wished her head would explode.
"Quiet, you little twerp—"
Ginny snorted in tipsy amusement. "You s-ssound like Ron!" She pushed her lips with her fingertips and shot a quick glance to Molly, who didn't seem to notice the rolling "s" coming out of Ginny's mouth.
"No, you sound like Ron," Daphne retorted.
"Ginny, let Daphne be . . . if she doesn't want to talk about her friend, she doesn't want to talk about her friend."
Hermione sighed and stared at the wall ahead of her. "I hope Ron's a good dancer. I would love to dance with him." When she looked back down, she saw the three younger women looking back at her with amused smirks. Molly looked at her with a broad grin on her face.
"I said that out loud, didn't I?"
They nodded.
Hermione looked at her now-empty glass. "I've only had one of these. Fleur, what in the world wine is this?"
"Eet ees a Chablis -- Côte de Léchet Premier Gru Chablis, 1996, to be exact," Fleur said as she read the label. "My mother actually prefers Muggle wines to magical beverages. She says zat zere are few things in zis world that magic should not mess wiz. One eez wine, and zee other is cheese." She took a bite of softened Brie and shut her eyes, entering gastronomical heaven. "I must agree wiz her on both points."
Daphne nodded vigorously. "Hear hear!" She herself had grown quite fond of ripened Brie and wine.
"Maybe I should cut back—"
"Oh, 'ermione," Fleur sat up, "relax. You are wiz family, non?" Daphne watched as Hermione blushed even more, making her face resemble a strawberry. "You will be okay around us . . . plus, I do not think your feelings for Ron are quite a secret around here. Or vice versa." Fleur shot her a knowing look and grin.
Hermione took back her refilled glass and continued sipping from it.
"So," Ginny piped up, "Ron can't have been the only bloke you fancied."
Hermione nearly choked on her beverage. "Ginny!"
"It's a legitimate question, Hermione. Who else do you think is good looking?" Ginny goaded her. She made a rather belligerent drunk.
Belligerent . . . but amusing.
"Actually," Daphne interrupted, and Hermione turned her shocked expression toward her. "I'm rather curious myself."
Molly giggled. "I can tell you, when I was your age, I thought there were so many attractive boys. None held a candle to your father, of course," she gave Ginny a sappy look and Ginny rolled her eyes and mimed chucking up with her finger, "but there's nothing wrong with looking!"
"So c'mon, Granger . . . spill it!" Daphne bounced up and down in excited anticipation.
"Well, we all know about Krum." Ginny held up one finger.
"Oooh. Wasn't 'ermione zee most important thing to Vicktor?"
Ginny nodded and waggled her eyebrows at Hermione.
"I hate you," Hermione mumbled and glared at her.
"You love me. You know it!"
Hermione continued to stare daggers at Ginny. Shutting her eyes tightly, the bushy-haired girl let out a sigh. "Shaymerfiggan . . ." Hermione muttered indecipherably into her wine glass.
"Wait! What was that?" Daphne and Ginny had identical smirks on their faces.
Hermione pursed her lips together and shook her head. "I already said it—"
"Oh please! Maybe in Mermish you said it, but I couldn't hear a thing!" Daphne interrupted.
"Seamus, all right?" Hermione said exasperatedly. "I thought Seamus was fit! Happy?" She raised her eyebrow sarcastically.
"Aww, Hermione. I could've set you two up and we could've double dated with Dean and him."
"Oh sure," Hermione lowered her eyebrows in a sarcastic manner. "If only I had been single last year instead of dating your brother. Believe me, Ginny, I'll take Ron any day over a horny Irish chap whose basic modes of functioning consists of eating, sleeping and shagging!" Hermione was just about to take a big drink of her wine, when she saw Molly's rather shocked face. She spat out beverage back into the glass
"Goodness!" Hermione said, looking at the wine. "Who needs Veritaserum when you're drinking this?"
Molly looked at her with an expression of disbelief, which melted into chuckling and gave way straight into giggling.
"Oh, Hermione," Molly said through her fit of amusement, wiping her eyes. "You're very entertaining!"
"Mum! Where the bloody hell are you?" The five women's heads turned toward the direction of the hallway, and watched as Ron and Harry's heads poked into the bedroom. They were greeted with the sight of Daphne and Ginny grinning devilishly at them, Fleur waving lazily, Hermione blushing and hiccupping, and Molly smiling at them.
"Oh, there's my baby boy!"
Ron took one look at the whole situation and shook his head vigorously.
"Nope! No, no, no." He turned back around to Harry and pushed for him to walk back down the hallway.
"Ron, wha—"
"They're all in there, drinking and eating and talking. You don't enter a room like that as a bloke and expect to make it out alive. Or with your manhood still attached."
"Hey!" Ginny exclaimed.
"We 'eard zat!" Fleur shouted at them.
"Cowards," Hermione muttered.
The women all laughed.
"Whoo-hoo! Yeah! Bill and Fleur! Hope she's knows what she's getting into!" Charlie Weasley yelled and playfully punched his older brother.
The Weasleys and Harry were in the backyard of the Burrow laughing and being entertained by Charlie's antics. Daphne and Ginny had just walked back out of the house; they had spent the last few minutes trying to convince Hermione not to go to bed just yet.
But all of the excitement of the day had finally managed to catch up to the bushy-haired girl, and Hermione insisted that she needed to rest.
Although Daphne and Ginny both strongly suspected that Hermione wanted to get right into that barmy Beedle the Bard book.
"The first one in our family to get married," Charlie said, slapping Bill's back hard, and shook his shoulder even harder, "I'm so bloomin' proud of ya, mate!"
Bill smirked at him. "Yeah . . . well, Mum won't stop going off on why no girl's managed to make you an honest man, or why you failed to get a date for the wedding yourself."
Charlie gave his older brother a flat look. "The only females I'm around with for any long period of time are dark, scaly and have a bit of a fire-breathing problem. You suggesting I should bring one of them?"
"Fair point," Fred interrupted. "Plus, Charlie wouldn't want to be upstaged by a date better-looking than him!"
"Oh, you'd better start runnin', ya mangy git!" And Charlie chased Fred around the backyard, the yelling, whistling, and goading for a good brawl coming from the other Weasleys.
After a few moments of running around in circles, Charlie saw that Ginny and Daphne had joined them. "Gingersnap!" Charlie threw his arms wide open and lifted Ginny up as she ran to hug him.
"You need to come up with a better nickname," she said as he dropped her to the ground. "By the way," she smacked him hard on the arm, "it took you long enough to get here."
"Hey!" Charlie rubbed at the spot Ginny had just hit. "Some of us have things called occupations where you go and have responsibilities and get paid actual money." He crossed his arms. "Makes it a bit hard to take time off and all that. Not like some little sisters that I know of that get whole summers off." He ruffled her hair.
"Whatever," Ginny swatted away his big hand. "You just love dragons! You love them so much, you should go marry them!"
Charlie snorted. "The hell? Are you pissed, Gin?"
Ginny refrained from answering, hiccupped, and skipped to join the rest of her brothers and Harry, who gave her the most gobsmacked expressions.
"I don't think we were properly introduced," Charlie addressed Daphne and stuck his hand out for a shake. "Charlie Weasley—"
"Resident prat."
Charlie shot a glare at a gleeful George. "Ignore them. They're just jealous that I'm better-looking than they are."
Daphne chortled. "Daphne Greengrass. Heard a lot about you."
"Don't worry, Chuckie, it was all bad—" Fred yelled out.
"Prat – prat – prat – prat – prat – PRAT!" George sang under his breath.
Charlie rolled his eyes at the twins. "Heard that you're, like, the Employee-of-the-Month or something at the joke shop?"
Daphne nodded. "Er . . . if you mean 'Worst Employee,' then yeah."
"Oh, we love this girl!" Fred came over a put an arm around her. "Who had any idea that Slytherins made such excellent testing subjects for our new products, hmmm?"
"Plus, she's more effective as a theft deterrent for those kiddies who try to nick our shit." George threw his arm around Daphne's other side. "Those eight and nine-year-olds have nothin' on her kneazle-like reflexes—"
"Or lightning speed!" finished Fred.
It was Daphne's turn to roll her eyes. "So you're into dragons, huh?"
"In more ways than one—" Fred muttered, snickering.
"Yeah, they get a bum rap by most of our society, but dragon's are wicked smart creatures. Really interesting—"
"Not to mention a good way to spend a Friday night, right Chuckles?" Fred smacked his shoulder.
"Talk about a . . . HOT DATE!" George piped up. There was a collective groan from the audience.
Charlie nudged Daphne with his elbow. "When casual Apparition and Portkey-travel gets a bit safer, you should come up with the family to the reserve. I guarantee that you'll never be bored!"
Daphne grinned. "Cheers! That sounds like a plan."
Charlie looked around. "Hey! aren't we missing one? Where's your girlfriend, Ron?"
Daphne watched as Ron's face blushed violently. "Sh-sh-she's not—" he spluttered.
Charlie looked over at Bill and arched his eyebrow. "Stuttering's a tell-tale giveaway, Ronnie." Charlie slapped his younger brother on the back and leaned over to him. "Sorry, mate, if I embarrassed ya. But," Charlie stood back up. "Where's Hermione?"
"She's resting." Ginny finished.
"Beauty sleep, and all that," Daphne mumbled.
Bill snorted. "This have anything to do with the Muggle wine that Fleur brought upstairs for an impromptu 'hen party'?"
Ginny wiggled her eyebrows. "Well, possibly that and the book Dumbledore gave her."
Ron smiled. "That girl never met a book she didn't like."
"Ah! My family," Charlie said, stretching his arms far above his head. His smile melted into a warm expression. "I've really missed all of ya. Really missed you guys . . . and Gin." He gave his little sister a wink. Charlie's smile faltered a bit and he turned his eyes to the ground. "Has," he said quietly, coughing a bit, "h-has anyone heard from Percy?"
Daphne saw all the Weasley siblings' faces fall, and even Harry stiffened upon hearing Percy's name.
Charlie shrugged awkwardly. "Sorry, I just didn't want to bring him up with Mum and Dad—"
"He won't talk to Dad," Bill said, "Percy basically ignores him at work. And if I run into him at the Ministry, or if I see him anywhere around Gringotts or Diagon Alley, he changes direction faster than a troll that's just smelled fresh meat." Bill shook his head. "He doesn't want anything to do with us, Charlie."
Charlie's jaw flexed. "Well, maybe I should try—"
"Why would you want to?" Fred cut in.
"He turned his back on Mum and Dad. That prat — that stupid, buttock-faced prat — gave his jumper back to Mum!"
"Charlie, you've gotta admit . . . it's takes a new type of 'arsehole' to return a Weasley jumper! I mean," George gestured to Daphne, "she's even got one! A bloody Slytherin got a Weasley jumper and didn't even return it!"
"I'm. Right. Here." Daphne said through gritted teeth.
"Greengrass, I was complementing you. Mister Big Head Boy's an idiot." George shrugged and smirked at Daphne. "You're just a git that we love to torture."
Daphne flashed him the two-finger salute.
"Well, none of this changes the fact that he's our brother." Charlie crossed his arms and gave his siblings a serious look. "I mean we're in the middle of a bloody war, and all I can think about is what if something were to happen to Percy, or to any of us, and we weren't talking to him." Charlie's eyes passed over the faces of his family, Harry and Daphne. The twins and Ron looked positively thunderous, but they remained quiet.
Bill thumped Charlie on the back. "Do what you need to do." Giving him a couple of pats, Bill turned back toward the house. "Big day tomorrow. I'm calling it a night." He yawned and stretched his arms. Daphne couldn't help but be reminded of Ron as Bill scratched his stomach.
"You're getting old. Can't even stay up til half past eleven!"
"I've also got me one helluva woman in there, Chuckles," Bill nodded toward the Burrow, "so, if you don't mind. . . . Gentlemen. Ladies." And with a glint in his eyes, Bill entered the house.
Charlie Weasley turned back to the others and shook his head. "Prat," he said, with a lopsided smile on his face.
