Bill & Fleur Marriage - Part 7

It had started innocently enough. Charlie had gathered all the Weasley brothers (minus Percy), Harry, Jean-Luc, Mr. Weasley and Mr. Delacour, and they had apparated to a private room at the Leaky Cauldron. Remus, Mad-Eye Moody, Kingsley Shaklebolt and several other members of the Order had met them there, along with some of Bill's co-workers and old friends.

Harry had taken a seat with Ron in a corner, somewhat distanced from the rest of the crowd. He'd been happy enough with his cold Butterbeer when Charlie approached their table with a bottle of Firewhiskey and added a shot to his and Ron's drinks. Harry hadn't yet tried the legendary drink and was quite keen to oblige. It burned going down, and he spluttered and coughed until he got used to it.

He'd only intended on trying it and leaving it at that, but he'd ended up taking a fair share of ribbing over being the only bloke there still underage. He felt he had something to prove, particularly to Jean-Lucifer, whom the alcohol didn't appear to be affecting at all.

He had soon found it very difficult to string words together clearly... more difficult even than he normally did -- and he wasn't quite certain how he'd got back to the Burrow at the end of the night.

Which was how he'd ended up lying here on the camp bed in Ron's sickeningly orange room, trying to decide if he had the energy to cast a Reducto spell on the sun.

"Bloody hell," Ron groaned from beneath the covers on his bed.

Harry tried to sit up but ended up falling back onto his pillow and swearing. "I am never drinking Firewhiskey again as long as I live," he moaned. "Whose brilliant idea was that, anyway?"

"I think it was yours, mate," Ron replied, and his voice sounded abnormally loud in the stillness of the room.

"Good morning, boys," Hermione's voice trilled as she pushed open the door and entered Ron's room, grinning merrily. Both boys cringed and pulled away.

"Oh, it's a perfect day for a wedding. Mrs. Weasley has breakfast ready. Come on, get up. The guests will be arriving soon, and you need to be dressed in order to greet them."

"Hermione," Ron groaned, rolling over and pulling the covers up over his head. "It's only the crack of dawn."

"Nonsense," Hermione said, pulling the covers off him completely and then turning and doing the same to Harry. "It's almost ten o'clock. Everyone else is up and has been for quite some time. Ginny, Fleur and Gabrielle have already left to have their hair done."

"Left where?" Harry asked, suddenly interested. He grabbed his blanket back from Hermione to cover his bare chest.

"Oh. They apparated to some cousin of Fleur's in London. Ron, your mother is going to be up here in a minute if you don't get up," Hermione said.

"My head," Ron moaned.

"Oh!" Hermione said, starting. She pulled two phials from the pocket of her dressing gown. "Here. Your mum said to give these to you to help clear your heads."

Harry took the phial eagerly and downed the contents, wincing at the taste. His mind cleared instantly, and the throbbing in his temples receded.

"Why didn't you say that bit first?" he asked irritably. Now that he could think, he realized he still had that distinctly uneasy feeling. He suspected it had something to do with his hangover, along with his apprehension over having to spend the day watching Jean-Luc fawning over Ginny. Still, the prickling on the back of his neck caused him some concern. He'd have to remain alert. He wasn't about to let anything spoil this wedding for the Weasleys.