George Weasley yawned widely.
Fred Weasley stretched out on the living room couch, closing his eyes.
Mrs. Weasley bustled into the room. George sat up. Fred opened his eyes.
Mrs. Weasley swelled like a bullfrog. Then she let loose.
“What do you do think you’re doing? The wedding is the day after tomorrow! Everyone in this family has been working themselves to the bone preparing, helping, doing everything they can to make the day perfect! And here you are, lazing around like a couple of””
Mrs. Weasley rolled on like a steam engine. George blinked. Fred sat with his mouth hanging slightly open.
The next thing they knew, they were sitting meekly at the kitchen table as their mother towered over them.
“You two,” she said sternly, jabbing a finger at each of their chests in turn, “will do the next item on this to-do list, no questions asked. I expect it to be done promptly and perfectly. No complaints!” Glaring at them one last time, she left, still muttering about irresponsible, lazy teenage boys.
Sighing, George picked up the list.
“Organize the guest list…” George furrowed his brow. “What does that mean? All the invitations have been sent out weeks ago. We’ve gotten just about all the acceptances.”
“No, it’s something different,” Fred said, propping his feet up on the table once he was sure his mother was out of sight. “Fleur was talking about it; some barmy tradition in her family.”
“Care to elaborate?”
“With pleasure, dear brother. The guest list, as you will see, lists an even number of people. Including, of course, the bride, the groom, parents of said bride and groom, an excessive amount of brothers, and other family and friends. All in all, twenty-two people should be attending this wedding, not including the judge and hired musicians.”
“Twenty-one, actually,” George interjected. “Percy never replied to his invitation.”
“Yes, well, good riddance. Anyway, twenty-one, twelve wizards and nine witches. Fleur, apparently, is quite distressed over this.”
“Is that so?” George asked, mimicking the self-important tone Fred had adopted.
“Indeed, George. She says that we don’t match up properly”that there’ll be three wizards left over.”
“That’s where you lose me,” said George. “Why does there need to be an even number of witches and wizards?”
“Have patience, brother dear, I’m getting there. The tradition de la famille Delacour is that every witch and wizard gets paired up for the wedding. Everyone then has an escort, you know, someone to get them drinks, dance with, sit by, and so forth. Not during the actually ceremony, of course, but the reception.”
“And, naturally, it’s the two of us who are going to get left out in the cold.” George heaved a long-suffering sigh.
“Actually, you and I will be fine, since we can pair ourselves up in a brotherly sort of way. Charlie’s most likely to have to go alone, I think. Or Neville Longbottom. I think Ron invited him,” Fred said, checking the guest list.
“True. Charlie deserves it, I suppose. All that time spent in Romania.”
“If he’d been home more often, perhaps he wouldn’t be such an afterthought!” Fred added.
“Anyway, all we have to do is write down the ten-odd pairings?”
“I believe so.”
“Well, that’s easy enough,” George said, picking up a quill and beginning to write. “You and me, Mr. and Mrs. Delacour…”
“Oh, come now,” Fred interjected, and George detected a familiar gleam in his double’s eye. “Have you forgotten who we are?”
“But what can we”” Suddenly a mischievous grin came over George’s face. “You mean…mix it up a little?”
“A little! I was thinking something much more drastic than a little.”
“All right, then, a lot. But we should probably leave the two of us together. And Fleur’s parents. We don’t want to start a family feud before we’ve even met them.”
“Comme il faut,” conceded Fred in a terrible French accent. “Let’s see… Remus, and, er, Madame Maxime…”
George snorted in appreciation and said, “Should we break up the happy couple, though? Test to see if they abide by their own rules by sticking with whatever random loser we pair them off with?”
“Of course!” said Fred, scribbling away. “Good for them to practice against the evils of jealousy. Come to think of it, Ron needs that practice more than anyone…”
“That’s right; Fleur invited Viktor Krum, didn’t she?” George said thoughtfully. “Maybe we should pair Vicky with Hermione, just for laughs.”
“Too late, he’s already with Ginny,” Fred told him, having just written his little sister’s name next to the name of the Bulgarian Quidditch star.
“And who knows, maybe good will come of this whole thing,” George grinned. “Perhaps they’ll end up liking who they’re put with.”
“Doubt it,” Fred said, looking at the guest list again. “More likely the reception will dissolve into chaos until everyone naturally gravitates back to whom they belong. Is Luna that loopy girl who was in the D.A. and went to the Ministry seventh year?”
“Yep,” George said. “Ginny invited her. Totally bonkers, that one.”
“Better pair her off with Dad, then,” suggested Fred to his twin, who had taken up the quill. “They’ll suit each other.”
George hesitated. “Don’t you think we should have some limits on age?”
“Not really,” Fred said, batting the air with his hand. “It doesn’t make a difference; nobody’ll be doing anything that’s…a cause for worry.”
“Alright, then. But what about Fleur? I wonder who we can use to make Bill most jealous…”
“Charlie? Viktor Krum? Harry?”
“Yeah, Harry’ll be good,” George said, smirking evilly as he wrote down the names. “Hold on, almost done…”
“Looks like Charlie is the odd one out,” Fred noted, looking over George’s shoulder.
“He should bring along one of his little dragons to dance with,” said George, rolling up the piece of parchment.
“Yeah, Hagrid’d probably switch him partners,” Fred laughed as they headed out the door.
“Order fleurs…check. Write out name cards…done. Match up ze couples…” There was an “x” by this item on her master list, so Fleur searched the table for another list with the couples. She found a small role of sealed parchment with the words “Reception Pairings” written on it in a handwriting she recognized as one of the twins’.
“Done,” Fleur sighed, glad those two had helped with something at last. She tucked the scroll in a pocket of her robes. “Of course, zey will ‘ave to set out ze place cards at ze refreshment table next Saturday, as only zey know ze exact pairs…” Fleur said to herself, adding “Set out place cards”twins” onto her list.
“Guests have started arriving,” commented Ginny two days later, peering out through her bedroom window. “Lupin and Tonks have just got here…we’d better hurry up; Mum’ll want us to greet people and such, I expect.”
“Girls!” called up Mrs. Weasley, right on cue, and Hermione and Ginny grinned at each other in the small mirror over Ginny’s vanity.
“You look great, Ginny,” Hermione said truthfully, admiring the bridesmaid’s gown of pale gold silk Fleur had chosen.
“Thanks,” Ginny replied, turning her head so she could see her hair in the mirror from all angles. “Your new dress robes look great, too. Blue’s really your colour.”
“Yeah,” said Hermione, fidgeting in her seat. “Do you think…erm…”
“I’m sure Ron will love it,” Ginny said, smirking. Hermione blushed.
“Ginny! Hermione! Get down here, please!” Mrs. Weasley yelled again. Sighing, Ginny walked towards the door.
“Time to smile until our cheeks hurt and accept a thousand compliments on how good we look. Ready to face it?”
“I think I am,” Hermione agreed. “Someone has to do it.”
“The sacrifices we make!” Ginny said dramatically, and threw open the door.
“Neville, have you combed your hair? You don’t seem to have done a very good job of it, at any rate. Have you got the gift? Good. Remember, be polite and don’t wear out your welcome. I’ll expect you promptly at eight. Mind you don’t spill any Floo, now, Rinkey just scrubbed the hearth!”
“Yes, Gran,” Neville said dutifully, stepping in the fireplace and scattering Floo powder in the grate.
“And above all,” said Gran as Neville began spinning. “Don’t””
But her words were lost as the fireplace gave a giant whoosh and propelled Neville into the Floo Network.
Feeling very dizzy, Neville squeezed his eyes shut as various Wizarding fireplaces streamed past in a blur. He was wishing he hadn’t had that second helping of eggs for breakfast when he stopped squarely in the fireplace of the Burrow, nearly landing flat on his face.
“Oh, hello, dear,” a warm voice greeted him as he regained his balance. He looked up and saw a rather careworn, plump woman with red hair standing at the kitchen table, icing a very large cake. “You must be Neville Longbottom, we’re so glad you could make it. The girls are outside, welcoming guests, if you want to join them. Do try not to trail too much ash!”
“Yes, Gran,” Neville nearly said, but stopped himself just in time. Murmuring a polite thanks, he walked across the small kitchen to the door.
“Anyone yet to arrive?” Ron asked casually, fixing the collar of his dress robes in the mirror.
“Well, let’s see,” Harry said, sitting on Ron’s neon orange bedspread and tying his shoe. “Every Weasley is here except Percy. Fleur’s family arrived yesterday. I think Madame Maxime’s horses are trampling the garden as we speak, and Lupin and Tonks got here a little earlier. Ginny and Hermione are outside talking to Neville. The judge isn’t here yet, and the hired singer won’t arrive for at least an hour. Other than that, it’s just Hagrid, Luna, and Krum.”
“Krum?” Ron asked, turning his head so quickly his neck cracked. “Viktor Krum? He’s coming? Here? Today?” Ron’s face was getting redder with each word.
“Yeah,” Harry said, slightly bemused at Ron’s reaction. “I think Fleur invited him.”
“WHAT?!” Ron exploded.
“Who’s coming?” Hermione asked Ginny incredulously.
“Viktor Krum,” Ginny answered, examining her nails as she stood next to Neville just outside the front door of the Burrow. “You know, the Bulgarian Quidditch player? Durmstrang champion in the Triwizard Tournament? Ring a bell?” She glanced up pointedly.
“But why has no one told me?” said Hermione, flapping her hands and looking flustered. “What Ron is going to say…”
“What’s Ron got to do with it?” Neville asked, looking rather nonplussed at the commotion.
“Nothing,” Ginny answered firmly, looking straight at Hermione. “Nothing at all. He has absolutely no reason to dislike Viktor in the least.”
“Well, yes, I know, but he still does””
“Ron’ll just have to get over it,” Ginny said unsympathetically. “Look, here he comes now!”
“Ron?” Hermione asked, looking eagerly towards the house.
“No, no, Viktor,” said Ginny, taking Hermione by the shoulders and spinning her round. “Look. Up there.”
Luna could just make out a rooftop with many red chimneys over the next ridge. Humming happily to herself, she hitched up her silver dress robes to hike up the final foothill. It had been such a nice walk from Ottery St. Catchpole, where the Knight Bus had dropped her off. It was an absolutely lovely day, from the golden meadows, to the soft summer breeze, to the cloudless blue sky”
Something in the sky caught Luna’s eye. She looked up. What was that thing circling far above? It looked too big to be a bird, but perhaps it was a vulture of some kind. Having reached the crest of the ridge, Luna stopped to look properly, shielding her eyes against the bright sun.
As the unidentified flying object swooped lower, hit turned out not to be a vulture, but a person on a broomstick. A Bulgarian on a broomstick, although Luna did not know that until he impacted the ground with a thud a few meters away from her and she recognized him at last.
“Are you Viktor Krum?” she asked curiously.
The person turned, still mounted on his broomstick, looking surprised. He cleared his throat a few times. By this point Luna was sure she knew who he was.
“Yes,” he said, nodding once and looking a bit uncomfortable as he clambered off his broom.
“I don’t think that’s the broom you were riding in the World Cup,” Luna commented. “I was there. You were quite good, actually, but you were riding a Firebolt. That’s not a Firebolt.”
“I know,” Krum replied, looking even more surprised and maybe a little amused. “I do not use my racing broom for anything but Quidditch. I use this broom for travel.”
“You couldn’t have flown from Bulgaria.”
“No. It vos a short flight. I took a train from Bulgaria to King’s Cross Station. I haff flown from London to here. It vill be good to see Fleur again.” He drew up short, looking puzzled and a bit embarrassed. Luna had the impression he didn’t talk this much in one go often.
“So that’s an Oakshaft?” Luna said, breaking the awkward silence. “I don’t know that much about Quidditch, but Father has one of those in his study. He says he’s investigating it for an exposé. Apparently Elias Grimstone””
“Hi, Luna!” said a bright, cheery voice; the two looked over to see Ginny topping the opposite side of the ridge from the side Luna had come up. She was followed by Neville Longbottom, looking slightly uncomfortable, and Hermione Granger, looking very nervous and blushing furiously. “Hi, Viktor, I’m Ginny Weasley.” She held out her hand and the overwhelmed Quidditch star shook it.
“This is Neville Longbottom”” Ginny continued to Viktor; Luna smiled at her Gryffindor friend. “”and of course you know Hermione.”
“Good to see you,” Hermione squeaked, red as Ginny’s hair.
“Herm-own-ninny,” Viktor said gravely, kissing her hand. “I haff not see you in three years.”
“Yes,” Hermione replied, her voice coming down just a notch from its unnaturally high pitch. “Yes, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?”
“So, the two of you have met?” Ginny asked, looking questioningly between Luna and Krum.
“Oh, yes,” Luna said, nodding energetically. “I was just telling him about the curse Elias Grimstone put on the Oakshaft in 1879, when he was trying to get revenge on the goblins that paid him in Leprechaun gold for his latest invention, the””
Hermione gave an almost inaudible sigh. Any nerves she might have felt at Viktor’s arrival seemed to have been chased away by her irritation at Luna’s bizarre beliefs. Viktor, hearing her sigh, turned toward her questioningly and she gladly took the opportunity to get his attention away from Luna’s story.
“Why don’t I show Viktor to the broom shed so he can put away his broomstick,” she suggested as Luna trailed off. Viktor nodded, and she headed off down the hill. Shouldering his broom, Viktor followed.
“I did not catch your name,” he murmured to Luna as he brushed past closely.
“Luna Lovegood,” she breathed, and now it was her turn to blush.
“What do you think he’s doing with Hermione?” Ron asked suspiciously, peering out his window.
Harry yawned. “I don’t know”kidnapping her?” Ron shot him a look.
“Oh, come on,” Harry said, getting up to stand at the window with Ron. “She’s probably just taking him to the broom shed. See?”
“What would he want to go into the broom shed with Hermione for?” Ron asked, more distrustful than ever.
“She’s just showing him where to put his broomstick!” Harry laughed, but regretted his choice of words when he saw the look on Ron’s face.
Tonks, thought Remus, was not an easy person to lose in a crowd, and especially not today. Her platinum blonde hair was up in an elaborate braided bun that bobbed above the heads of even the tallest guests, though Tonks herself was only five feet, four inches. Remus didn’t pity the poor soul who had to sit behind her at the ceremony. Smirking, Remus snuck up behind her.
“I got the drinks,” he whispered in her ear. Tonks jumped and whirled around, nearly upsetting the cups of cider Remus held.
Charlie, standing nearby, laughed at her.
“Nice Auror reflexes, Tonks,” he commented, taking a large gulp of his own cider and choking on it. Tonks regarded him impassively for a moment before graciously accepting a glass from Remus.
“Molly said the ceremony should start soon,” Remus said, sipping his own drink and pounding Charlie on the back as he coughed and sputtered.
“Yeah, right,” Charlie wheezed, clearing his throat several times, his eyes watering. “Mum’ll always find something wrong at the last minute and then run off to fix it. It could take hours. Usually,” he added thoughtfully, “the thing that goes wrong is thanks to Fred and George.”
“Those two do seem to be acting awfully subdued,” Remus said, eyeing the twins, seated on the couch in the living room where everyone had congregated. “I’ve seen that look in pranksters before. It never bodes well; they’ve probably got something very big and very disastrous planned.”
“Or maybe they’ve just decided to be nice and behave themselves for a change?” suggested Tonks. The three of them exchanged glances, then burst out laughing.
“Oh, Gabi, I’m so nervous!” breathed Fleur as she surveyed herself in the full-length mirror. She was clothed from head to toe in white silk, gold lace, and delicate blue embroidery at the hems. Her dress was perfect, her shoes were perfect, the tiara atop her hair was perfect, her bouquet of lilies, roses, and bluebells was perfect, and, of course, her fiancé was perfect. But the butterflies in her stomach would not flutter away.
“You will be fine,” cooed Gabrielle, smoothing down an imaginary wrinkle in Fleur’s dress. “Just theenk!” In anuzzer seven years I shall be twenty-one as well and per’aps getting married! And you shall bring your dozens of red-haired Weasley children to the ceremony. Will zat not be fun?”
She turned and gave her sister a hug.
“Almost time for the ceremony to begin,” commented Fred, checking his watch.
“Shall we set out the place cards, then?” George asked innocently.
“By all means,” Fred replied with a decidedly wicked grin.
The reception was supposed to be held, starting at five o’clock, near the pond on the Weasley property, on the other side of the house from where the ceremony was set up. From there the reception might move inside, before all the guests except the Weasleys and Delacours would depart for the evening. For now, however, there was just an empty, makeshift wooden dance floor, a platform for the hired singer to perform on, some chairs about for people to sit on, and a long table, decorated, as everything else, with white lilies charmed not to wither for forty-eight hours. The refreshment table was laden with hors d’oeuvres, which would serve as dinner, and a giant, three-tiered white cake stood in the center of the table. The Delacours’ best china was out and twenty-two chairs (in case Percy showed up or the judge decided to stay) were grouped around the table. Charms had been placed to make the food keep and ward off insects. Lanterns were placed here and there, waiting for the sun to go down so they could be lit. Everything had been thought of, everything set up. All that was left was to set out the place cards.
“Ten chairs on each side,” observed George. “A chair on one end for Charlie. An empty chair (for Percy) at the other end. Perfect.”
“Here, you take half,” Fred said, shoving roughly eleven neatly calligraphed and decorated cards into his twin’s hands. “Let’s see…Fred Weasley, George Weasley, here…Ginny Weasley, Viktor Krum, here…Madame Maxime, Remus Lupin, here…” he muttered, laying each card carefully on the gold-rimmed plates.
“Right-o!” said George, beginning to set out his own cards. “Molly Weasley and Rubeus Hagrid, here. Bill Weasley and Hermione Granger, here. Fleur Delacour Weasley and Harry Potter…”
“Gabrielle and Ron, Tonks and Neville, Charlie…”
“Place card with Percy’s name on the front, and Judge Brown’s on the back! Judge is more likely; I’ll put that side facing up…”
“Arthur and Luna, Mr. and Mrs. Delacour…done!” Fred stood back to survey their handiwork. George straightened a few place cards on the plates.
“Let’s just hope no one gets the wrong idea about Dad and Luna,” Fred said finally. George laughed.
“Hey,” he said, realising the name of one of his relatives was missing. “Why didn’t Great-Auntie Muriel come?”
“I think she wrote and said she was too sickly.” Fred shrugged. “And most of Bill and Fleur’s friends decided not to show up because they’re afraid to travel with the war on, and all.”
“Yeah,” George said distractedly, listening to the babble of voices as many guests moved outside. “Sound’s like the ceremony’s about to start.”
“About time, too,” Fred said. “It’s nearly five.” Glancing once more back at the table with identical smirks on their faces, the two walked away.
Matchmaker, Matchmaker by hermy_loves_ron
Chapter Notes:Well, here's my first attempt at a chaptered fic! I hope you like it, and I just wanted to let you know that there's a lovely little white box at the bottom of your screen I would recommend utilizing (hint, hint). All thanks to the lovely Lindsey (Ron x Hermione) for betaing this for me!