Vive, L'Amour !

Chapter One

Obviously, the Weasleys have an affinity for French women.

Ron lusted after Fleur. Bill got engaged to her. Charlie had a brief affair with a girl named Aurélie while doing extensive research on Hebridean Black dragons in Épernay. The dancer at Arthur's bachelor party was French, too (a fact that was made extremely clear when she threw her country's flag – in thong form – onto his face).

Maybe it's a rite of passage.

Or maybe Ginny Weasley is truly in love with Gabrielle Delacour.


"DON'T YOU DARE DROP THAT!"

The four-foot tall wedding cake trembled and wavered; its white lacy tiers wobbled and the trails of thick, pasty icing quivered dangerously. On top, the marzipan couple, a redhead and a strikingly gorgeous blond Frenchwoman, gazed anxiously at the younger redhead carrying them.

"Don't worry, mum! I've got it under control!" cried out a very exasperated Ron Weasley.

Molly Weasley raised an eyebrow and watched her floundering son try to carry the cake inside the house, where it was to remain until the actual wedding ceremony was over and the reception began. Sighing at her son's failing attempt, Molly whisked her wand in his direction and successfully – and safely – transferred the cake from his limp arms to the table.

Ron instantly let out a cry of annoyance. "Mum! I could've handled it!"

The screen door behind Ron opened and closed with a bang. Hermione Granger and Harry Potter had entered, both laughing. "Fred and George really have some quality new products..."

Turning to magic the dirty dishes clean, Molly sighed exasperatedly. "Last night, they tried out their Lewd Loo Lip on Arthur... I was sitting in bed reading when it went off."

Arthur Weasley fell out of the fireplace at that exact moment, coughing from the harsh smoke and brushing his shoulders off from the soot. "Hullo, everybody!"

Ron looked over at his father questioningly. "Lewd Loo Lip?"

Turning slightly pink, Arthur put down his briefcase. "I'd just sat down when suddenly the seat... Well, it cried out at me. Started yelling and nattering on about my disgusting fecal matter and something about the state of my bum and – well, that's quite enough for me to say, with Ron's chums here!"

Harry and Hermione were giggling again. "Really, it's fine. In fact, thanks for the warning; now we know not to use the upstairs loo," Harry said through chuckles.

After several minutes of discussing Fred and George's amazingly successful business, the room fell to a quiet and Molly clapped her hands. "All right, everyone, there's still some more cleaning to be done! The wedding is but a day away!"


Ginny was in her room, sitting on her bed and staring out at the yard below. Harry and Ron were de-gnoming the garden and Hermione was arranging dainty white fairies around the plot of land to be used for the ceremony. Fred and George were setting up chairs for the guests, lining up normal chairs amongst some of their patented Wedgie-Warper seats. Ginny smiled.

She looked down at her lap, where her journal was placed. It was open to an earlier entry – much earlier – back to when she would fill the book's pages with lurid descriptions of short, meaningless encounters with awkward, pubescent boys that she had, at that time, thought were important and relevant. But they weren't. She saw that now.

And for some reason, she didn't think she would ever return to those shallow, boy-crazy days.