Book 7: Harry Potter male reader insert

Chapter 6: Birthday Wishes

The Delacours arrived the following morning at eleven o' clock. Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny were feeling quite resentful toward Fleur's family by this time; and it was with ill grace that Ron stumped back upstairs to put on matching socks, Harry attempted to flatten his hair, and (Y/n) was forced to bewitch his prosthetic to be more 'presentable'. Apparently a cool looking metal arm wasn't 'appropriate'.

Once they had all been deemed smart enough, they trooped out into the sunny backyard to await the visitors.

(Y/n) had never seen the place looking so tidy. The rusty cauldrons and old Wellington boots that usually littered the steps by the back door were gone, replaced by one new Flutterby bushes standing either side of the door in large pots, there used to be two but (Y/n) had crushed one of them jumping out of one of the top floor windows to avoid Mrs. Weasley interrogating him. Although there was no breeze, the leaves still waved lazily, giving an attractive rippling effect.

The chickens had been shut away, the yard had been swept, and the nearby garden had been pruned, plucked, and generally spruced up.

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 be Fleur's mother.

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

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

"You 'ave been so 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 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, forcing (Y/n) to use all his willpower not burst out laughing.

"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, then threw Harry a glowing look, batting her eyelashes. Ginny cleared her throat loudly.

"Well, come in, do!" said Mrs. Weasley brightly, and she ushered the Delacours into the house, with many "No, please!"s and "After you!"s and "Not at all!"s.

The Delacours, it soon transpired, were helpful, pleasant guests. They were pleased with everything and keen to assist with the preparations for the wedding. Monsieur Delacour pronounced everything from the seating plan to the bridesmaids' shoes "Charmant!" Madame Delacour was most accomplished at household spells and had the oven properly cleaned in a trice; Gabrielle followed her elder sister around, trying to assist in any way she could and jabbering away in rapid French, of which (Y/n) could understand the odd sentence here and there.

On the downside, the Burrow was not built to accommodate so many
people. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were now sleeping in the sitting room, having shouted down Monsieur and Madame Delacour's protests and insisted they take their bedroom.