6A/N: Welcome to "Redefining Family"!
This is my first story in a loooooooong time, so long in fact that I've lost access to my previous account. Oh well, better to start fresh I suppose. This story has been marinating in my mind-theatre for ages now and I'm so happy to finally get it on paper (and a little nervous too). The core of this story was HEAVILY inspired by a couple that I've fed featuring "family magics" and "house brides". I've included info at the bottom.
Reviews, favorites, and follows make me happy and I hope that you enjoy reading this as much as I've enjoyed creating it.
Disclaimer: I do not, and never will, own anything related to Harry Potter.
The first few chapters are pretty heavily drawn from Book 8, but will diverge shortly. So if you recognize it, that's why.
As Hermione Granger stood amidst the enchanting chaos of the Burrow, her heart danced to a symphony of emotions. The Weasley family home, with its crooked chimneys, jumbled rooms, and colorful garden, had always held a special place in her heart. It was a place where laughter and love thrived, where magic was a part of everyday life, and where she had found a second family.
Today, however, the Burrow bore witness to a different kind of enchantment. Bill Weasley, the eldest of the Weasley siblings, was about to marry the graceful and alluring Fleur Delacour.
The garden was a tapestry of vibrant flowers, bewitched lanterns bobbed gently in the air, and the marquee billowed like a magical pavilion. It was a picture-perfect setting for a wedding, and Hermione couldn't help but smile at the thought of love prevailing in these dark times.
She was in the midst of helping Fleur with some last-minute adjustments to her wedding attire when a voice, sharp and distinctly disapproving, cut through the cheerful chatter. It seemed that Aunt Muriel, an elderly and opinionated relative of the Weasley family, had arrived on the scene.
Hermione watched as Muriel's scrutinizing gaze fell upon Fleur, her nose wrinkling in disapproval. It was no secret that Muriel harbored reservations about the marriage, considering Fleur's Veela heritage and her own strong opinions about blood purity.
Hermione exchanged a quick, empathetic glance with Fleur. She knew that this encounter was bound to be challenging. Fleur, always graceful, held her composure, her chin lifting slightly as she greeted Muriel with a polite smile. Hermione stepped closer to other woman, ready to offer support and a shield of solidarity against the older woman's potentially hurtful words.
Muriel's voice was sharp and critical as she addressed Fleur, her words tinged with disapproval. "Well, well, Fleur Delacour," she began, her gaze appraising Fleur from head to toe. "I see you've managed to find your way into the Weasley family, despite all odds."
Fleur, though clearly taken aback by Muriel's blunt remarks, managed to maintain her composure. She responded with a polite, yet firm tone. "Oui, I 'ave," she replied, her French accent softening her words. "Bill and I, we are in love, and zat is what matters."
Hermione, standing by Fleur's side, couldn't help but feel a surge of admiration for the French woman's resilience. She decided to chime in, her voice steady and unwavering. "Fleur is an incredibly talented witch," Hermione said, "and she loves Bill with all her heart. That's why they're getting married today."
Muriel's disapproval, however, was not easily swayed. She continued to scrutinize Fleur with a critical eye. "Love, you say?" she scoffed. "Well, we'll see how long that lasts, won't we?"
Fleur's blue eyes flashed with a mix of frustration and determination. "Love is not about 'ow long it lasts," she replied, "but about 'ow deep it runs."
Muriel, sensing the determination in Fleur and Hermione's voices, paused for a moment, her expression still stern but perhaps a touch less dismissive. She crossed her arms and fixed a piercing gaze on Fleur. "You may have won over Bill, but you'll have to prove yourself to the rest of the family," she declared.
Fleur, her back straight and her eyes unwavering, nodded gracefully. "I am prepared to do zat," she replied with a quiet confidence that seemed to take Muriel aback.
Hermione stepped in once more, hoping to bridge the gap between the two. "The Weasley family has always been known for their open hearts and their ability to see the good in people," she said, her voice gentle but firm. "Fleur loves Bill deeply, and I believe that's what truly matters to them."
Muriel's disapproval hadn't vanished entirely, but she seemed to relent slightly. "We shall see." Straightening her back the older woman eyed Fleur from head to toe again, "Well, if you're determined to be part of this family, then let's make sure you look the part."
She reached into a velvet-lined box, carefully unveiling a delicate and ornate tiara, passed down through generations of Weasley brides. It glittered with gemstones and intricate metalwork, a true family heirloom.
Fleur, her eyes shining with gratitude, extended her hand to accept the tiara from Muriel. "Merci, Madame," she said, her voice filled with genuine appreciation.
Muriel nodded curtly but then added, "You're pretty enough as it is, but remember, it's not just about the jewelry or looks, my dear. It's about proving yourself through actions, and not just words."
Hermione, who had been observing the exchange quietly, chimed in once more. "Fleur has already proven herself through her bravery and her love for Bill," she said. "I'm sure she'll continue to do so as a part of your family."
As Fleur carefully held the tiara and the atmosphere in the room began to ease, Muriel's sharp eyes shifted toward Hermione. She regarded Hermione with a calculating expression, as if sizing her up. After a brief pause, she remarked, "And who might you be, young lady?"
Hermione, met Muriel's gaze without hesitation, replied, "My name is Hermione Granger, and I'm a friend of the family."
Muriel's scrutiny of Hermione intensified as she seemed to appraise her with an even more critical eye. "Granger, you say? That name sounds familiar," she mused aloud before turning up her nose slightly, "Oh dear, the Muggle-Born?"
Hermione maintained her composure, well aware that her reputation as a Muggle-born witch often preceded her. "Yes, I'm a Muggle-born," she stated matter-of-factly, anticipating Muriel's next question.
Muriel's lips pursed slightly, but to Hermione's surprise, the older witch didn't immediately launch into a tirade about blood purity. Instead, Muriel's tone became contemplative as she asked, "And what are your intentions, Miss Granger? Are you here to disrupt our family traditions as well?"
Hermione, standing her ground with unwavering determination, replied, "I'm here to support my friends and the Weasley family. I believe in the values of love, acceptance, and unity."
Muriel's eyes narrowed, as if she were searching for something in Hermione's words. "Values, you say?" she muttered, more to herself than anyone else. Shaking herself from her thoughts, the older woman sniffed delicately before turning back to the bride-to-be, "Bad posture that one, and skinny ankles, but it's no wonder with her upbringing. No matter, I will take my leave now and find a seat before those useless boys forget that we older witches need a good view."
The witch met Ginny and Gabrielle at the door as they returned from some supplies for Mrs. Weasley downstairs. Hermione didn't bother listening to the sharp words that Muriel supplied for them, but at least it seemed quick as Ginny stepped into the room with a roll of her eyes. "A right terror that one, here Hermione, why don't you take a break and go see the boys. They're downstairs seating everyone."
Hermione nodded gratefully after casting a questioning look in Fleur's direction. The French woman merely nodded with a smile as she worked to properly situate the tiara, seemingly torn between two positions.
Excited to see her friends, Hermione wound her way down to the ground floor glancing outside the windows to see a foursome of redheads outside the Marquee. She was amused to see Fred leading away a group of pretty Veela women while George glared at his back. The look didn't last long though and soon George was charming his own group of middle-age witches as he led them to their seats. Spotting Muriel heading towards the procession, Hermione paused on the stairs, in no hurry for another run in with the older woman. Perhaps she could swing by the kitchen for a quick snack.
Soon enough though, she found herself stepping outside into the bright sunshine and approaching her two friends. Ron spotted her first, and she found herself blushing as he looked at her a bit star-struck, trailing off mid-sentence as she hurried toward them. "Wow, you look great!"
"Always the tone of surprise," while her words were dry, the smile that crossed her face softened her tone. She had dressed in a sort of floaty, lilac-colored dress and adorned a pair of matching high heels, giving her several inches added to her normally short height. She had even taken the time to apply straightening cream to her hair again, and it was sleek and shiny in the sunlight. She thought she did look rather nice and was pleased the Ron seemed to think so as well.
Hermione's tone was a mixture of amusement and annoyance as she continued, "Your Great-Aunt Muriel doesn't agree, I just met her upstairs while she was giving Fleur the tiara. She said, 'Oh dear, is this the Muggle-born?' and then, 'Bad posture and skinny ankles.'"
"Don't take it personally, she's rude to everyone," said Ron.
"Talking about Muriel?" inquired George, reemerging from the marquee with Fred at his side. "Yeah, she's just told me my ears are lopsided. Old bat. I wish old Uncle Bilius was still with us, though; he was a right laugh at weddings."
Hermione raised an eyebrow as she looked at the older boy, "Wasn't he the one who saw a Grim and died twenty-four hours later?"
"Well, yeah, he went a bit odd toward the end," conceded George.
"But before he went loopy he was the life and soul of the party," said Fred, "He used to down an entire bottle of fire-whisky, then run onto the dance floor, hoist up he robes, and start pulling flowers out of his –"
"Yes, he sounds like a real charmer," Hermione interrupted before Fred's description could get any more graphic. Harry, at her side, was roaring with laughter.
"Never married, for some reason," said Ron, a growing twinkle in his blue eyes as he looked at Hermione.
Rolling her eyes, she responded with clear sarcasm, "Yes, how amazing," before they both broke down into laughter as well.
They were all laughing so much that none of them noticed the latecomer, a dark-haired young man with a large, curved nose and thick black eyebrows, until he held out his invitation to Ron and said, with his eyes on Hermione, "You look vunderful."
"Viktor!" she shrieked before she could help herself, wincing at the sharp pitch of her voice as she dropped her beaded bag in surprise. The little bag made a loud thump as it hit the ground, quite disproportionate to its size. She quickly scrambled to pick it back up, blushing and stuttering as she looked up at the tall man. "I didn't know you were – goodness – it's lovely to see – how are you?"
Out of the corner of her eye she could see Ron's ears turning bright red as he glared at Viktor before turning to scrutinize the invitation as if he didn't believe a word of it. His words, when he spoke came out much too loudly, "How come you're here?"
"Fleur invited me," said Viktor, his bushy eyebrow raised before he turned back to regard Hermione with a smile. Before Ron could react to the possible snub, Harry thankfully stepped in and offered his hand to Viktor and then offered to escort him to his seat, leading him away with a warning look in Ron's direction and a pleading one in Hermione's.
Ron grumbled something under his breath but before he could work up any steam, Ginny hurried across the lawn and informed them that it was time. Quickly, Hermione grabbed Ron's arm and tugged him towards their seats. The twins followed quickly, exchanging mischievous looks and nudging each other in Ron and Viktor's direction. They met Harry coming back, and she wasn't surprised in the least to notice that Viktor's entrance had caused something of a stir, it seemed people were even craning their necks to try and get a good look at him.
"Time to sit down," Fred told Harry, "or we're going to get run over by the bride."
The trio took their seats in the second row behind Fred and George. She could still feel her cheeks burning, but wasn't sure how she felt about Viktor's unexpected arrival. They still wrote each other frequently and he certainly hadn't mentioned the invitation. Perhaps he had meant to surprise her? She glanced at Ron under her lashes and noticed that his ears were still scarlet. After a few moments he leaned over towards Harry and muttered something in his ear, Harry merely grunted in reply which caused Ron to slouch in his seat, cross his arms over his chest and glare forward.
A sense of jittery anticipation filled the warm tent, the general murmuring broken by occasional spurts of excited laughter. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley strolled up the aisle, smiling and waving at relatives; Mrs. Weasley was wearing a brand-new set of amethyst colored robes with a matching hat. Hermione thought that she looked absolutely lovely, and it was so good to see her smiling without the weight of darkness and death on her shoulders.
A moment later Bill and Charlie stood up at the front of the marquee, both wearing dress, with larger white roses in their buttonholes; Hermione felt her breath catch in her throat as she looked at them. They were so different in appearance and yet equally as handsome.
Bill's long hair was neatly tied back and bound by a black ribbon, his signature earing was nowhere in sight and Hermione almost found herself missing it. He was tall, and the cut of his robes highlighted the lithe muscles he had gained from years of dangerous curse-breaking work. The scars across his face were barely noticeable against the bright smile crossing his features. This was a man in love.
Charlie served as a lovely contrast to his older brother. He was a few inches shorter, while still being quite tall, and built like a bull. His muscles rippled beneath the fabric of the robes and Hermione almost found herself wanting to touch them. His normally wavy hair, a few shades brighter then Bill's, was combed back for the occasion and the edges just barely kissed the collar of his robes. The barest hint of a burn scar peaked above the edge and teased at more hidden beneath.
She was torn from her thoughts by the sound of Fred's wolf-whistle and her face turned scarlet. Hermione glanced quickly at Harry and Ron but was thankful to see that no one had been paying her any attention as she had been lost in thought. What on earth had she been thinking, it had to be the lovey-dovey atmosphere of the wedding that was putting such thoughts into her head. She had never looked at either older Weasley brother in such a way before.
The sounds of music swelled from what seemed to be the golden balloons, causing the assembled crowd to go silent. Hermione swiveled around in her seat to look back towards the entrance and was met with a vision of beauty. She was unable to contain the soft sound she made as she caught sight of the bride. And she wasn't the only one.
A great collective sigh issued from the assembled witches and wizards as Monsieur Delacour and Fleur came walking up the aisle. Fleur seemed as if she were gliding on the air, and her father bounced and beamed at her side. The bride was wearing a simple white dress, but the simplicity was perfect against the strong, silvery glow that seemed to be emitting from it. While her radiance usually dimmed everyone else by comparison, today it seemed to cast everyone in only their best light. Ginny and Gabrielle, both wearing golden dresses of a similar cut, looked even more pretty then usual and once Fleur had reached for him, Bill did not look as though he had ever met Fenrir Greyback.
"Ladies and gentlemen," said a slightly singsong voice, and Hermione was surprised to see the same small, tufty-haired wizard who had presided at Dumbledore's funeral, now standing in front of Bill and Fleur. "We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of two faithful souls…"
Hermione's attention was pulled from the ceremony by the rather carrying whisper of Muriel as she leaned over to her companion, "Yes, my tiara set the whole thing nicely, but I must say, Ginevra's dress is far too low cut."
Ginny glanced around, grinning, and cast a quick wink in Harry's direction, causing her friend smile and blush. Hermione leaned over Ron to nudge Harry with a wink before turning her attention back to the front.
"Do you, William Arthur, take Fleur Isabelle….?
In the front row, Mrs. Weasley and Madame Delacour were both sobbing quietly into scraps of lace. Trumpet like sounds from the back of the marquee told everyone that Hagrid had taken out one of his own tablecloth-sized handkerchiefs. Hermione turned and beamed at both Harry and Ron; her own eyes were no doubt full of her own happy tears as well.
It was that moment, as something large and silver came falling through the canopy, that broke the fragile oasis of joy that had been built. Graceful and gleaming, the lynx landed lightly in front of Bill and Fleur, turning to face the assembled crowd. Then the Patronus's mouth opened wide and it spoke in the loud, deep, slow voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt.
"The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming."
"Weasley Magic" - By: Amebb42 (This one is on Ao3)
There were two others, one based on a mixture of Weasley and Prewitt family magics, and the third was based on Hermione becoming a Wife to the House of Malfoy, but for the life of me I can't find them right now. :