As far as she was concerned, there was nothing special about Cassidy Winters. She's simply a girl who drinks far too much coffee than she would like to admit and reads books to escape her life as an unwanted orphan. Then, when she appears in a world...
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Harry's POV:
The Delacour's arrived that morning at eleven. We were all feeling quite resentful toward Fleur's family by this time and it was with an ill grace that Ron stumped back upstairs to put on matching socks.
I had never seen the Burrow looking so tidy. The rusty cauldrons and old Wellington boots that usually littered the steps by the back door were gone, replaced by two new Flutterby bushes standing either side of the door in large pots.
Though there was no breeze, the leaves waved lazily, giving a 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.
I had lost track of how many security enchantments had been placed upon the Burrow by both the Order and the Ministry. All I knew was that it was no longer possible for anybody to travel by magic directly into the place. Mr. Weasley had therefore gone to meet the Delacour's 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 be Fleur's mother.
"Mama!" cried Fleur, rushing forward to embrace her. "Papa!"
They hugged and greeted each other, Fleur getting kisses on her cheeks from each parent.
"Dear lady!" said Monsieur Delacour, holding Mrs. Weasley's hand between his own 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's cheek too.
"Enchanted," 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, then threw Harry a glowing look, batting her eyelashes.
Cassidy laughed lightly, I looked over to see her smiling, amused. Then she looked to me, to which I looked away immediately, knowing she was only going to tease me after last night's events.
