you're my chosen one ║ harry potter x reader

𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫 7࿐⋆the audacity of this man⋆

Y/N slightly glared at him from across the table; he'd never agreed to help her with anything, even though he could do it easily and quickly with magic. But it still surprised her to see him so comfortable talking to Mrs. Weasley- smiling, while he was at it. Y/N wondered if a certain redhead had something to do with this development.

The Delacours arrived the following morning at eleven o'clock. Harry, Ron, Hermione, Y/N, Rigel, and Ginny were feeling quite resentful toward Fleur's family by this time. Once they had all been deemed smart enough, they trooped out into the sunny backyard to await the visitors.

It was no longer possible for anybody to travel by magic directly into the place. Mr. Weasley had therefore gone to meet the Delacours on top of a nearby hill, where they were to arrive by Portkey. The first sound of their approach was an unusually high-pitched laugh, which turned out to be coming from Mr. Weasley, who appeared at the gate moments later, laden with luggage and leading a beautiful blonde woman in long, leaf-green robes, who could only be Fleur's mother.

"Maman!" cried Fleur, rushing forward to hug her. "Papa!"

Monsieur Delacour was nowhere near as attractive as his wife; he was a head shorter and extremely plump, with a little, pointed black beard. However, he looked good-natured. Bouncing toward Mrs. Weasley on high-heeled boots, he kissed her twice on each cheek, leaving her flustered.

"You 'ave been to much trouble," he said in a deep voice. "Fleur tells us you 'ave been working very 'ard."

"Oh, it's been nothing, nothing!" trilled Mrs. Weasley. "No trouble at all!"

Ron relieved his feelings by aiming a kick at a gnome who was peering out from behind one of the new Flutterby bushes.

"Dear lady!" said Monsieur Delacour, still holding Mrs. Weasley's hand between his own two plump ones and beaming. "We are most honored at the approaching union of our two families! Let me present my wife, Apolline."

Madame Delacour glided forward and stooped to kiss Mrs. Weasley too.

"Enchantée," she said. "Your 'usband 'as been telling us such amusing stories!"

Mr. Weasley gave a maniacal laugh; Mrs. Weasley threw him a look, upon which he became immediately silent and assumed an expression appropriate to the sickbed of a close friend.

"And, of course, you 'ave met my leetle daughter, Gabrielle!" said Monsieur Delacour. Gabrielle was Fleur in miniature; eleven years old, with waist-length hair of pure, silvery blonde, she gave Mrs. Weasley a dazzling smile and hugged her. "And, zat is my brother's daughter-"

Monsieur Delacour's words were drowned by two identical squeals.

"Y/N!" cried Lisette, beaming at Y/N, who had also called out Lisette's name at the same time. They hurried forward together and embraced each other fondly.

"It has been so long!" exclaimed Lisette when they pulled away. She was smiling so much it seemed contagious.

"I know, I've missed you," said Y/N, squeezing her hands.

"We have so much to catch up on!" said Lisette, squeezing her hands back.

"Why don't you come in?" said Sirius, stepping forward with Rebekah just behind him. Madame Delacour fixed him with a confused look and turned to Mr. Weasley, who was quick to answer her unspoken question.

"Oh, that is Sirius and Rebekah, you know Harry's godparents and-"

"Ah yes!" Madame Delacour clapped her hands brightly. "Lovely to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Black! Our Lizzie says your godson saved 'er, we're ever so grateful-"