Here We Go Again

Sequel to: Leave Out All the Rest

Chapter 1: The Beginning

There comes a time in an unlucky person's life when they have the misfortune of crossing Mrs. Molly Weasley I. It had been said that some have not lived to tell the tale ( as noted by the very dead Bellatrix Lestrange), while others have claimed many broken limbs. Either way, the regret of defying Mrs. Weasley was instantaneous.

A young, foolish gardener now knew this as he cowered away from lethal brown eyes.

"Absolutely unacceptable," Mrs. Weasley snarled, her wand pointed forward, shaking it like it was her finger and it was admonishing those around her. "You take all of this back free of charge! We will not be paying for your mistake!"

"Gran!" Emerging out into the living room from his bedroom, handsome and sharp as always, was Louis Weasley. He wedged his way between the gardener and his grandmother. "Dad told you to stop threatening the workers. You don't need another lawsuit."

Mrs. Weasley did not lower her wand at her grandson. "Did Fleur not ask for twenty dozen roses?"

"Yes, Gran, she did—"

"Exactly," Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, taking a threatening step forward. Now Louis joined the gardener in looking absolutely terrified. "As I was telling you, boy, take this—"

"But she then changed it to twenty dozen sunflowers!" Louis bellowed after seeing sparks at the end of his grandmother's wand. "Tante Gabrielle said it matched the color scheme better!"

Mrs. Weasley's narrowed eyes stayed the same. "Why was I not told about this change, Louis?"

There were several reasons why a lot of decisions were made without his grandmother's consent, but Louis was not that much of an idiot to reveal them. While he thought himself to be her favorite grandson from the massive throng of other twats, Louis knew all about her rage. She is where the unholy phrase of Weasley Rage came from, after all. As such, he managed to smile innocently at her, using all of his Veela charm to distract her from possible murder.

"I'm not sure, Gran, but I just came from the kitchen, and Mum's stressing over her mince pies," Louis told her immediately. "They're crumbling straight out of the oven. She's worried they won't taste anything like yours."

"Of course they won't," Mrs. Weasley huffed. "That poor girl. I've told her hundreds of times what she's doing wrong. Now, boy," she looked behind her grandson's shoulder, "take these flowers to the back, then. Come on. Get a move on. Louis, make yourself useful and help him."

Louis nodded obediently until she marched to the direction of the kitchen. Fleur was about to be appalled at her mother-in-law's forced involvement with the food, but, luckily (smartly) it was no longer Louis' issue. He waved his wand at the arrangement of sunflowers, nudging to the gardener to follow him out.

As they left, Hermione Weasley walked in from one of the halls. There was a frown forming on her face as she combed through her long, silky straight hair. Her big, warm brown eyes were painted lilac, accentuating the flecks of gold in them.

Ron tugged at the back of her fitted, plum-colored dress. "Come on, 'Mione," he said with a laugh, snaking his arm around her waist. "No one will know we're gone."

Hermione swatted her husband's hand away. "Behave, Ronald," she told him. "I really doubt Bill and Fleur would appreciate if we use their house for your needs. Have a little respect."

"Hey," Ron growled, "he doesn't have respect! I caught him with several witches back in the day all over the Burrow! I don't know why he complains about Dominique. She gets all her behavior from him."

Hermione rolled her eyes, but still leaned in to give him a fleeting kiss. "Maybe at night," she said, making him groan in defeat, "there is a lot to do. Now, come on. Fleur still needed help in the kitchen. "

"She said she had everything handled," Ron pointed out.

"She only said that to get your mother to leave," Hermione scoffed, taking his hand to lead him toward the kitchen. Ron stomped all the way there.

Peeking his head in from the backdoor, Artie Weasley deemed the inside of Shell Cottage clear. He tiptoed in, followed by a carefree older cousin.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked, turning to look at Freddie for reassurance. "Absolutely sure?"

Freddie scowled at him. "Oh, lad, you spent an awful lot of time this summer with Uncle Percy, didn't you?" He put an arm around his shoulders, giving him a shake, "Come on, Artie. When have I ever let you down? Besides, this is the year the torch is passed down to you. You are now the Weasley legacy at Hogwarts. I'm teaching you tradition here, mate."

While Freddie had thought it to be a joke, Artie did in fact spend almost all his summer with his father. So much of that time was spent looking at regulations, Artie was almost compelled to follow them all. He even had read countless of his father's essays on how to improve rule-breaking at school, that, if asked, he could tell the Headmistress what specific areas she needed to improve to minimize misbehavior.

Yet, all of that was thwarted when Freddie extended a brown paper bag to him.

"It's just a couple of fireworks," Freddie told the younger boy. "What can possibly go wrong?"

"Muggle or magical?" asked Artie, whipping out a lighter he had knicked from his Aunt Hermione.

Freddie grinned. "Both," he told them with a loud, dark laugh as he lead him toward the direction of Louis' room. Artie tore the bag open, digging in.

Both boys were too excited with the possibility of their next prank to even hear when the nearest closet door was flung open, spitting out Al Potter and Nia Harper.

She rolled off of Al, standing in one fluid, graceful movement. Nia's blue eyes scanned the area before patting down her red, lace dress as if she could make all evidence of their rendezvous disappear before others looked upon her.

Al grinned proudly at her disheveled blonde hair that surely matched his, too.

"Twat," she huffed at him.

He laughed. "I'm sorry," he told her with no real remorse. Instead, Al pulled himself off the wooden floor, throwing his arms around her waist. She narrowed that beautiful, sapphire gaze at him, but allowed herself to melt into him. "But I've just learned how to cast the Silencing Charm with wandless magic. I couldn't resist."

"Oh, sure," Nia snorted, her fingers crawling up his chest to redo the buttons of his dress shirt. "If anyone asks, just say you were doing revisions. They will definitely believe you."

"Especially if I say you were helping me study."

Nia smacked him upside the head, earning another laugh from Al. "Don't think you can bewitch me just because you're an excellent kisser, Potter. I've got my priorities on right."

"True," Al said, pressing a kiss to her nose that made her smile at him. "But you don't have your dress on right. It's inside-out."

Nia blinked down to where Al's fingers were skimming. She could see the ridges of where her mother had altered an old dress from her youth. "Fuck sakes," she huffed, stomping back into the closet, pulling her dress off.

Al threw his arms up in victory, conjuring another Silencing Charm on the closet just as Nia let out a sound that could be described as a mixture between a squeal and a giggle.

"—You're not wearing that!"

"—We are!"

"—You're absolutely fucking not!"

"—I don't see what's wrong with it," said Lucas Zabini to James Potter as the latter shouted at his younger sister Lily and his cousin Roxanne. "The dresses are nice."

"See?" Roxanne offered. "Lu thinks they're nice."

James glared at his cousin before turning it on Zabini. "I don't care what you think is nice, you idiot! If they so much as leaned a centimeter down, the whole world will be able to see their backsides! And I will not tolerate any slimy git talking about my sister's backside!"

"Stop saying backside!" Lily yelled at her brother, pulling back her arm that he had entrapped with his protective grip. "Merlin, how old are you again?"

"How old are you again?" James returned just as sharply.

Roxanne cleared her throat, looking between her cousins and already seeing the start of another endless argument. She grabbed the pleated skirt of her dress, twirling it slightly. It was enchanted to smell like an island paradise. "Come on, Jamie," she started, "I worked for weeks on these designs. Can you at least be a little proud of me before you start shitting on it?"

"Of course I'm happy for you, Roxy," James said, "but I would've been happier if you decided to add a cloak to it. A thick one, too."

Lily rolled her eyes at her brother before looking over at the boy standing next to Zabini. "Liam," she called, "what do you think?"

Liam had been around James Potter (and every other member of his large family) long enough to know not to contradict them where they thought they were right. Instead he tugged on the silver vest he was wearing, smiling wide at the wrong girl. "Lovely work, Roxanne. This vest is great, too."

Lily frowned at her boyfriend just as James started to grin. She grabbed Roxanne's hand the same way her brother had grabbed hers.

"Where are you going?" James demanded.

"Anywhere away from you complete arseholes," she said through clenched teeth. "And don't you dare follow, or I'll make sure you have to pee sitting down the rest of your miserable lives!"

James was not one to ever let his little sister intimidate him, but before he could follow, his path was blocked by his Uncle George and his mother.

"—You're not wearing that!"

"—I am!"

"—You're absolutely fucking not!"

Ginny spun on her heels, fury and defiance burning bright in her brown eyes. Her hands landed on her hips, fingers creasing the silky material of her emerald dress (with the long slit that was currently appalling her older brother). "I am an adult, you wanker. Don't you dare give me orders!"

George jumped back a second too late. Ginny still managed to get his shin when she aimed a kick at him. He cursed, hopping after her as she stormed in the direction of the kitchen.

"Something is seriously wrong with this family," Lucas muttered to Liam.

James elbowed both boys. "Come on," he scoffed at them before motioning them back out the house. "It's almost time."

As the three boys left, no one was around to hear the distinctive sound of apparition sounding off the old walls of Shell Cottage.

"Easy," said Draco Malfoy as he awkwardly patted Rose Weasley's back. The girl searched for something to lean on, heaving in air like her lungs had been deprived of it. "Breathe in and out. You'll be fine."

Rose grimaced, her eyes closing. Her cheeks turned pink from embarrassment. "Now I know why Dad prefers to Floo. Apparating is horrible."

Draco smirked. "Your father only thinks so because he can't stop splinching himself. What an idiot."

"Father," Scorpius called, his tone slightly aggravated when he had appeared alongside his mother just in time to hear him slander her girlfriend's father. "You promised you'd stop insulting Mr. Weasley, remember?"

"Son," Draco started with his own impatience, "I never made such promise. How could I? Insulting the Weasel is like breathing. Would you ask me to stop breathing?"

"I've been counting on it for years—" Rose picked up her head from Scorpius' shoulder (who had moved instantly to her side, rubbing comforting circles on her back as her nausea settled) to see her parents standing just outside the hall that led out of the kitchen. "Alas, here you are, Malfoy."

"Ron, Hermione," Astoria Malfoy greeted just as her husband glared at the two. "Sorry we are a little late. We were waiting on Narcissa before we realized she had made a pit-stop somewhere else."

Hermione looked away from Draco, smiling all knowingly at his wife. "She went to visit Andromeda's grave, didn't she?"

"Grandmother thought it was important," Scorpius offered, earning soft looks from his mother and Hermione. "Given the occasion and all."

Rose put her arm around his waist, pulling herself up on her toes to kiss his jaw. "Our families have come a long way, right, Mum?"

Draco and Ron grimaced. 

"Firewhiskey?" offered Ron.

"Lots of it," said Draco, following him back in the direction of the kitchen. 

"Dad, no—"

"Leave them, sweetheart," Hermione cut across her daughter's complaint. "Your grandmother is in there. She'll sort them out. Astoria and I will help. Now, you two should go outside. It's almost time."

Rose nodded, standing straight just a Scorpius helped her smooth out a wrinkle from her yellow dress just as she did for his silver vest. They did not look back at their respective mothers, instead clasped hands and marched out. 

"Look at me," Dominique Weasley just about cried as she was being helped down a staircase. "I am so fat, I looked like a giant wheel of cheddar cheese in this stupid dress."

"You're pregnant," Emily Taylor reminded her just as Molly Weasley II ( or just Molls, as she insisted on being called so others would not confused her—or connect her—to her grandmother) rubbed her protruding stomach. "Besides, you look radiant."

Dominique tried to move to give her a hug, but ended up bumping into her. "I'm a fucking planet," she growled. "I'm going to absolutely murder Rowle for this."

"No one told you to hop on for the ride," Lily offered with a snort, earning an outraged laugh from Roxanne and Emily, while Molls smirked. "Had you been smart enough to remember a contraceptive spell, you would be able to see your toes right now."

Lucy, who had been shadowing them with a look of absolute annoyance that rivaled that of her father's, grabbed for Roxanne, pulling her back from the danger zone. Registering this, too, Emily copied their actions. 

Dominique took a harsh step toward Lily. "Are you calling me a cow?"

"Moo," Lily said with a dangerous glint of her own.

"Okay, that is enough!" From the same staircase, Angelina Weasley made her way down. Beautiful and sharp as ever, she said to her niece, "Lily, I love you, sweetheart, but I will no longer patch you up when you provoke her. How many times have we told you to be sympathetic to her? She's pregnant. And as for you, Roxy, how many times have I told you to never be in the same vicinity with the two? It's dangerous."

Molls furrowed her brows at Dominique. "I'm starting to regret that sleepover I suggested."

"You're fine," Dominique huffed at her. "I actually like you."

"You haven't had to deal with her for years," Lily said to Molls just as Angelina started ushering them out, "but, trust me, she's gotten even more mental."

Molls turned behind her shoulder, squinting at the fireplace that started to burn green. She smiled briefly at Teddy stumbling out, blue hair disheveled as his silver eyes scanned the area surprisingly free from overflowing relatives. She wanted to run back toward him, hug him tight, but she would see him outside. 

Teddy yanked back the sleeve of his grey suit jacket, looking at the gold watch on his wrist that he had received from his adoptive parents. He was on time—which meant he was late. He had to be completely ready ten minutes ago, but the onslaught of jitters and depression that had hit him the night before did not care about his schedule. It just made him toss and turn for hours, rendering the sleeping potion he took completely useless. It then made his morning almost unbearable as he sat in an old, dusty room at Grimmuald Place, looking through boxes of old things that used to belong to people he could barely remember. 

That was where Narcissa had found him. Alike him, she had been thinking about his Grandmother Andromeda. Yet, unlike him, she barely gave much thought to his mother and father. All Teddy could do was look at their faces in the old photographs the family had kept, trying to memorize every little detail as to replenish the vague memories that always threaten to fade away. 

"They are proud."

Teddy looked up from his watch, finding Harry and Ginny already standing right in front of him. He figured it seemed just about right, considering that whenever Teddy felt lonely, or broken, his adoptive parents were always close enough to reach for a hug.

Ginny grabbed her son's hand. "Look at the man you've become. You are every bit Tonks and Remus, sweetheart."

"Every bit you, too, Mum," Teddy whispered, tears in his silver eyes he had not been able to get rid of for hours. 

"If you're wondering," Harry said, "they're here. They've always been here. Watching after you."

Teddy nodded as a tear slipped out. Ginny smudged it away tenderly. "Are you happy?" she asked.

He had to take a deep breath, but genuinely, he said, "I am."

"Then, let's go," Harry said just as Ginny turned to the vacant hall behind them.

 "It's time!" she shouted. "Get a move on or I'll make you regret making us late!"

Instantly, a group of flailing adults popped up. Mrs. Weasley was leading them out. "Come on, then! You heard Gin. Out you go!"

"— Don't forget the firewhiskey, Malfoy!" Ron bellowed as he was being pushed by George. 

Draco was about to turn back into the kitchen, but Hermione blocked his path. "That's enough," she told him, grabbing his hand and leading him toward the backdoor of Shell Cottage. 

"You're insufferable," he scoffed at her, but still let her drag him out as Astoria smirked from behind them. 

Just as Mr. Weasley helped his wife out, the door to the nearby closet opened again. 

"Shit, shit, shit!" Al grumbled, trying to smooth out his suit.  "It's starting!"

Nia threw his black tie at him. "Your mother is going to kill us!"

"Shit, shit, shit!" Al said again, following after Nia as she sprinted for the backdoor.

Poking his head out from his office, Bill Weasley tried to listen for the chaos. For a short second of time, treasured silence rung out. It made him step a foot out of the room; yet, before the second followed pursuit, Fleur appeared in front of him. 

"What are you doing 'ere? Eet iz about to commence!"

Bill let out a defeated sigh. "Right behind you, dear."

Fleur narrowed captivating eyes at him, but still tenderly touched his cheek. "sois heureux, amour."

"I am," he replied, but both could hear the uncertainty behind it. The hesitation. Once again, he sighed. "Fine, maybe I'm not, but it's hard for me. How am I supposed to let my little girl—"

"Daddy?" Bill and Fleur turned to see their eldest child at the end of the hall. "Maman, is everything okay?"

"Ma petite fille! Regarde toi," Fleur just about cried. "Everything iz perfect. You are perfect."

Wary still, Victoire looked back at her father. "Is it?"

Though emotion had hit him just as it had hit his wife, Bill was better at containing it. He nodded firmly once at his daughter. "Of course, sweetheart. I'm just a little nervous, that's all."

"You're nervous?" Victoire laughed. "Look at me, Daddy. I look ridiculous."

Bill was looking at her. While he knew she looked absolutely stunning, a perfect, spitting image of Fleur Delacour, he did not see the adult. He saw his little girl in her mother's elegant dresses, playing princess. 

"None of zat, S'il vous plaît," Fleur said with a sniffle, patting her cheeks dry with the back of her hand. "Today iz an 'appy day. Come on. We are waiting for you."

Victoire smiled briefly as her mother passed, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Still, as she had always done throughout her life, she looked back at her father for reassurance. "Together?"

"Of course, darling," Bill whispered, reaching for his daughter's hand.

Slowly, both made their way to the backdoor that led out to the breathtaking backyard of Shell Cottage. As they approached, centimeter by long centimeter, they could hear the crashing of ocean waves and smell the sea mist, flowers, and fruit. 

"They're coming," squealed Roxanne from the outside, the hopeless romantic. 

Before Bill and Victoire could step out, they were shoved aside by Freddie and Artie. It made them laugh, breaking the moment of dread passing through both father and daughter.

 As the sweet, gentle melody of harps began, she looked up at her Bill. "Ready, Dad?"

For a fleeting (powerful) moment, Bill wanted to go back in time to when Victoire was his little girl. He wanted to go back to the time when the only people she needed were him and Fleur, and her safe haven was in their arms and the walls of their home. He never understood the sadness his own mother had the day he left the Burrow until this very moment: As parents, you raise and equip your children to no longer need you. As parents, you raise and equip your children to become functioning, independent adults with their own separate lives.

This was the beginning of Victoire's.

Bill looked out the door; he could see Teddy standing alongside James, Al, Scorpius, Louis, and Liam. He had his hands clasped in front of him, a tell-tale sign of his nervousness. While he considered himself to be an overprotective fool, Bill could admit to always trusting Teddy to make his daughter happy. And there was no other man he would trust with Victoire than him. 

So, with a deep breath of his own, Bill looked at his daughter in her beautiful wedding dress and said, "Ready."