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Harry Potter and the Angel of Darkness
folder
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
4
Views:
2,762
Reviews:
7
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
4
Views:
2,762
Reviews:
7
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
The Ceremony
Disclaimer: Nope, they’re still not mine. Though yep, I still wish they were.
Don’t sue… unless you like cat poop and ferrets!
Major HBP plot spoilers here. DO NOT read if you don’t want to know. Seriously. I warned you.
If you bitch and moan after reading, I will swat you with a pooper scooper, and squirt you with
bitter apple before dousing you in ketchup and tossing you into my kettle!
Proceed at your own risk.
The Ceremony
“Oi, scarhead!”
Whirling around, Harry saw Fred and George, the Weasley twins, as they came thundering down
the staircase into the kitchen. “Glad you could come! Reckon we’d better clear out, ‘fore mum
gets her knickers any more into a twist and actually asks us to help!”
Laughing, Fred threw an arm around Harry’s shoulders, while Ron and George brought up the
rear. “So Harry, what’ve you… err… been up to, then?”
Giving Fred a dark look, Harry let himself be pulled silently to a seat along the second row of
pristine cream-colored chairs lined up in the Weasley’s backyard. Letting Ron slide in on his left,
Harry pulled out a wrapped package from beneath his robes, placing it reverently on the chair to
his other side.
“What’s that then?” Ron peered over Harry’s lap, poking at the twine around the painting with a
dirty finger.
“Shove off Ron, and I’ll tell you!” Harry pushed Ron back onto his own seat. “It’s from the
Dursley’s.”
“What? No! They couldn’t’ve… they wouldn’t’ve sent… I mean… not to a wizard wedding…?!”
“Naw, Ron. Not a gift. When I got back to Private Drive in June, I found this hanging over my
desk in my room!” Pulling open the wrapping on the package, Harry gently pulled out what
appeared to be a picture frame, setting it back on the chair.
“Hmph, can’t see a thing, can I, from down here? Harry, be a good boy and get an old man
some books or something to rest on, will you?”
Yelling, Ron toppled backward out of his seat, knocking Auntie Marielle and the elder Mrs. Longbottom
(vulture hat and red handbag and all!) over in the process.
“What the bloody hell is that, Harry? That sounds like… like… That sounds like Dumbledore,
that does!”
“Who else would it be, Mr. Weasley? Nice robes by the way. Nice underwear too, now that you
mention it. Though it’s a bit dirty, wouldn’t you say? Best stand up before Miss Granger sees
you. Wouldn’t want that, would we? Bit embarrassing, that’d be, eh?”
Muffling his curses, Ron looked about for the girl in question, and not seeing her, climbed back
to his feet. Climbing over Auntie Marielle, Ron righted his chair before collapsing dumbfounded
into it. “Is that really… really… you found that… your house… Dursley’s… Dumbledore…?!?”
“Yep!” Grinning at his best friend, Harry nodded enthusiastically. I walked in with Hedwig’s cage
in one hand, trunk in the other, and there he was, claiming he was tickled pink to finally see
my room. Been there ever since!”
“How’d… how’d you get ‘im off though? Wasn’t he... you know… suck, or something?”
“Yeah, but only when he wants to be. He says that all paintings can choose to leave their wall,
but they have to want to go, or you can cut down the wall, and 10 minutes later, the wall will be
back, painting in place.”
“Cool!”
“Yes, yes, quite fascinating, I’m sure. But Harry, my dear boy, I still can’t see!”
“Oops, sorry Professor! Literarius!” Several books materialized beneath the painting,
effectively lifting Dumbledore’s frame a good meter, before causing Ms. Longbottom to cough
and tap Harry’s shoulder.
“Some of us would like to be able to see the ceremony as well, young man.”
“Yes, yes, quite right, that’s high enough, Harry. Thank you.” Noticing the ever-increasing
redness of Ron’s face, Dumbledore harrumphed and looked through his half-moon spectacles
at the boy. “I know you are bursting to ask me certain questions Mr. Weasley, but I am also
quite sure they can wait until after your brother’s ceremony, can they not?”
Still wide-eyed and slack jawed, Ron nodded, and turned to face forward as the gentle hymn
of what could only be a firebird began to float over the gathering of people.
With not a little bit of shock, and quite a few gasps and murmurs, the crowd swiftly took to
their seats to enjoy Fawkes’ elegant melody. Humming along, the Dumbledore painting nodded
his head in time to the beat, idly winding a strand of his waist-long beard around one finger.
The phoenix’s song was shortly overtaken by a group of indescribably beautiful women making
their way between the aisle of chairs. The men and boys unlucky enough not to have either
earplugs or their spouse’ or girlfriend’s fingers stuffed quickly into their ears began flexing and
grinning as the Veela escort of Fleur’s distant relatives came to a halt at the front of the gathering.
Turning as one, they began to hum, a small band the size of sparrows began to play. Turning
once more in their seats, the gathering of friends and family watched as Ginny Weasley stepped
into the aisle, carrying a small basket of pixie dust, which she sprinkled about her as she walked.
Harry’s cheeks flushed, and he felt the familiar hardening in his groin and ache in his chest as
she passed, winking at him. Dumbledore’s painting nodded at the girl and, though shocked, she
hid it well, halting at the front. Turning slowly, Ginny blew a little of the sparkling dust over the
slightly raised platform where her brother and his fiancé would soon stand, and then took her place
to one side to await the others.
Next to come was little Gabrielle, Fleur’s young sister, clinging tight to Bill’s hand. Still rakishly
handsome even with the scars gotten the night Dumbledore died and he was attacked, Bill
grinned cheerily about him, pausing to kiss his mother’s tear streaked cheek before passing
Gabrielle to Ginny, and taking his own place upon the platform.
Harry, still caught up in the vision that was Ginny Weasley, was startled as a tight grip landed
on his shoulder. “Ow, Ron, that’s my…” He turned to see what had made his best friend grow so
purple in the face, “… shoulder.”
Hermione Granger, best friend, bookworm, and now beautiful woman was now making her own
way toward the front of the gathered crowd. Harry removed Ron’s hand from his shoulder, placing
it on the ginger haired boy’s own knee, and hid his smirk at the not-so-subtle bulge in the other
boy’s robes.
He watched Ron twist his hand up in the fine dragon skin material and spared a thought that he
was glad it wouldn’t tear. Some time during the entrances, Fawkes had once more begun to sing,
as had the Veela at the front, though muted so as not to detract from the purpose of the day.
For the last time, every head turned toward the door of the Burrow, which was covered in green
vines and tropical flowers for the occasion, and sighed as Fleur Delacour stepped out from beneath
the leafy canopy.
Wiping tears from her eyes, Molly Weasley gripped her husband’s hand, as he placed a gentle
kiss to her fingertips. All around, couples (and even a few strangers) gave small signs of affection
that seemed to be contagious just from looking at the beautiful girl.
Sprites sparkled in her diamond like white hair, while rainbows danced over the delicate pink
gauze of her rosebud pink robes. Even Harry, staunch and avid believer of her utter ugliness in
the face of Ginny’s beauty had to admit that today, Fleur was one of a kind.
As she made her way to the front, her smile was only for the man standing there, waiting for her.
As she reached him, a gentle kiss on the cheek and a small smile was the only indication that she
was in fact a mortal woman and not a goddess today. (Though, to be honest, you could’ve fooled Bill!)
As one, the audience, who had at some point all risen to their feet, sat back down as the Minister
of Magic rose to stand in front of the couple on the dais. Holding a silver candle in one hand, and
a soft, satin rope in the other, the Minister sat both down upon the small pedestal between Fleur
and Bill.
Raising both arms, he began to speak softly. “Friends, today we are gathered here to celebrate
the union of two people.” Taking up the rope, he wound it about Fleur’s wrist. “Let this rope
symbolize a strength of will; one strand is easily broken, but combined, forms a rope of nearly
unbreakable strength. So it is for these two.
“Let their love for one another build upon their strengths, let each one’s strength become stronger
for the support of the other’s. Let each one’s weakness be diminished by the presence of the
other. Let each strength undermine each weakness, and let the bond between these two be as
this rope – together, unbreakable.”
With that, he wound the other end of the satin rope about Bill’s wrist, tying the two together, hand
over hand. When he finished, he picked up the candle once more.
Handing it to the couple to be held by their bound wrists, the minister again spoke, “Let this flame
symbolize their love. Where light burns, shadow is melted away, darkness is forced back. Evil in
the presence of light cannot survive, and so let their love be like the candle; may it never burn out.”
Lighting the candle with the tip of his own wand, the minister bowed over the flame, placing a hand
on each of the bound ones. “Remember; this union does not symbolize the combining of souls,
for to do so is for one soul to overtake and destroy another. You are two separate people forming
an eternal bond of love and dedication.
With a grin, the Minister took the candle, and turned the couple to face the gathered friends and
family. “I give you Fleur and Bill Weasley! And now, because I’ve always wanted to say this…
You may kiss the bride!”
Amidst the cheering, the two kissed, nobody having noticed that not once had Harry Potter\'s eyes
left those of Ginny Weasley\'s the entire time.
********************
Author’s Note: Ah yes. So, still no smut. Sorry, but I’m not at all sorry! Got to have
a story before you have the smut, or all you have is meaningless porn!
Ok, ok, so sometimes that’s not a bad thing… but I want you to enjoy the story as well. I hope these
two plot chapters haven’t bored you too much. There’s more to come, though things slowly get a little
hotter.
Bit of a longer chapter though… hope that’s alright! Though not quite as long as they\'re likely to get.
If you couldn’t tell though, I’m a wee bit of a romanticist and absolutely adored writing the
wedding scene.
Anyway. Still looking for a beta, and I’d love some written reviews if you want to give them!
(Ahah, I know, you’re all waiting for the porn first! Bah! Bah, I say!)
Drop me a line, or send me a message! Pcharmes2@aol.com for email, and pcharmes2 for aim!
Thanks!
Another update coming soon!
Don’t sue… unless you like cat poop and ferrets!
Major HBP plot spoilers here. DO NOT read if you don’t want to know. Seriously. I warned you.
If you bitch and moan after reading, I will swat you with a pooper scooper, and squirt you with
bitter apple before dousing you in ketchup and tossing you into my kettle!
Proceed at your own risk.
The Ceremony
“Oi, scarhead!”
Whirling around, Harry saw Fred and George, the Weasley twins, as they came thundering down
the staircase into the kitchen. “Glad you could come! Reckon we’d better clear out, ‘fore mum
gets her knickers any more into a twist and actually asks us to help!”
Laughing, Fred threw an arm around Harry’s shoulders, while Ron and George brought up the
rear. “So Harry, what’ve you… err… been up to, then?”
Giving Fred a dark look, Harry let himself be pulled silently to a seat along the second row of
pristine cream-colored chairs lined up in the Weasley’s backyard. Letting Ron slide in on his left,
Harry pulled out a wrapped package from beneath his robes, placing it reverently on the chair to
his other side.
“What’s that then?” Ron peered over Harry’s lap, poking at the twine around the painting with a
dirty finger.
“Shove off Ron, and I’ll tell you!” Harry pushed Ron back onto his own seat. “It’s from the
Dursley’s.”
“What? No! They couldn’t’ve… they wouldn’t’ve sent… I mean… not to a wizard wedding…?!”
“Naw, Ron. Not a gift. When I got back to Private Drive in June, I found this hanging over my
desk in my room!” Pulling open the wrapping on the package, Harry gently pulled out what
appeared to be a picture frame, setting it back on the chair.
“Hmph, can’t see a thing, can I, from down here? Harry, be a good boy and get an old man
some books or something to rest on, will you?”
Yelling, Ron toppled backward out of his seat, knocking Auntie Marielle and the elder Mrs. Longbottom
(vulture hat and red handbag and all!) over in the process.
“What the bloody hell is that, Harry? That sounds like… like… That sounds like Dumbledore,
that does!”
“Who else would it be, Mr. Weasley? Nice robes by the way. Nice underwear too, now that you
mention it. Though it’s a bit dirty, wouldn’t you say? Best stand up before Miss Granger sees
you. Wouldn’t want that, would we? Bit embarrassing, that’d be, eh?”
Muffling his curses, Ron looked about for the girl in question, and not seeing her, climbed back
to his feet. Climbing over Auntie Marielle, Ron righted his chair before collapsing dumbfounded
into it. “Is that really… really… you found that… your house… Dursley’s… Dumbledore…?!?”
“Yep!” Grinning at his best friend, Harry nodded enthusiastically. I walked in with Hedwig’s cage
in one hand, trunk in the other, and there he was, claiming he was tickled pink to finally see
my room. Been there ever since!”
“How’d… how’d you get ‘im off though? Wasn’t he... you know… suck, or something?”
“Yeah, but only when he wants to be. He says that all paintings can choose to leave their wall,
but they have to want to go, or you can cut down the wall, and 10 minutes later, the wall will be
back, painting in place.”
“Cool!”
“Yes, yes, quite fascinating, I’m sure. But Harry, my dear boy, I still can’t see!”
“Oops, sorry Professor! Literarius!” Several books materialized beneath the painting,
effectively lifting Dumbledore’s frame a good meter, before causing Ms. Longbottom to cough
and tap Harry’s shoulder.
“Some of us would like to be able to see the ceremony as well, young man.”
“Yes, yes, quite right, that’s high enough, Harry. Thank you.” Noticing the ever-increasing
redness of Ron’s face, Dumbledore harrumphed and looked through his half-moon spectacles
at the boy. “I know you are bursting to ask me certain questions Mr. Weasley, but I am also
quite sure they can wait until after your brother’s ceremony, can they not?”
Still wide-eyed and slack jawed, Ron nodded, and turned to face forward as the gentle hymn
of what could only be a firebird began to float over the gathering of people.
With not a little bit of shock, and quite a few gasps and murmurs, the crowd swiftly took to
their seats to enjoy Fawkes’ elegant melody. Humming along, the Dumbledore painting nodded
his head in time to the beat, idly winding a strand of his waist-long beard around one finger.
The phoenix’s song was shortly overtaken by a group of indescribably beautiful women making
their way between the aisle of chairs. The men and boys unlucky enough not to have either
earplugs or their spouse’ or girlfriend’s fingers stuffed quickly into their ears began flexing and
grinning as the Veela escort of Fleur’s distant relatives came to a halt at the front of the gathering.
Turning as one, they began to hum, a small band the size of sparrows began to play. Turning
once more in their seats, the gathering of friends and family watched as Ginny Weasley stepped
into the aisle, carrying a small basket of pixie dust, which she sprinkled about her as she walked.
Harry’s cheeks flushed, and he felt the familiar hardening in his groin and ache in his chest as
she passed, winking at him. Dumbledore’s painting nodded at the girl and, though shocked, she
hid it well, halting at the front. Turning slowly, Ginny blew a little of the sparkling dust over the
slightly raised platform where her brother and his fiancé would soon stand, and then took her place
to one side to await the others.
Next to come was little Gabrielle, Fleur’s young sister, clinging tight to Bill’s hand. Still rakishly
handsome even with the scars gotten the night Dumbledore died and he was attacked, Bill
grinned cheerily about him, pausing to kiss his mother’s tear streaked cheek before passing
Gabrielle to Ginny, and taking his own place upon the platform.
Harry, still caught up in the vision that was Ginny Weasley, was startled as a tight grip landed
on his shoulder. “Ow, Ron, that’s my…” He turned to see what had made his best friend grow so
purple in the face, “… shoulder.”
Hermione Granger, best friend, bookworm, and now beautiful woman was now making her own
way toward the front of the gathered crowd. Harry removed Ron’s hand from his shoulder, placing
it on the ginger haired boy’s own knee, and hid his smirk at the not-so-subtle bulge in the other
boy’s robes.
He watched Ron twist his hand up in the fine dragon skin material and spared a thought that he
was glad it wouldn’t tear. Some time during the entrances, Fawkes had once more begun to sing,
as had the Veela at the front, though muted so as not to detract from the purpose of the day.
For the last time, every head turned toward the door of the Burrow, which was covered in green
vines and tropical flowers for the occasion, and sighed as Fleur Delacour stepped out from beneath
the leafy canopy.
Wiping tears from her eyes, Molly Weasley gripped her husband’s hand, as he placed a gentle
kiss to her fingertips. All around, couples (and even a few strangers) gave small signs of affection
that seemed to be contagious just from looking at the beautiful girl.
Sprites sparkled in her diamond like white hair, while rainbows danced over the delicate pink
gauze of her rosebud pink robes. Even Harry, staunch and avid believer of her utter ugliness in
the face of Ginny’s beauty had to admit that today, Fleur was one of a kind.
As she made her way to the front, her smile was only for the man standing there, waiting for her.
As she reached him, a gentle kiss on the cheek and a small smile was the only indication that she
was in fact a mortal woman and not a goddess today. (Though, to be honest, you could’ve fooled Bill!)
As one, the audience, who had at some point all risen to their feet, sat back down as the Minister
of Magic rose to stand in front of the couple on the dais. Holding a silver candle in one hand, and
a soft, satin rope in the other, the Minister sat both down upon the small pedestal between Fleur
and Bill.
Raising both arms, he began to speak softly. “Friends, today we are gathered here to celebrate
the union of two people.” Taking up the rope, he wound it about Fleur’s wrist. “Let this rope
symbolize a strength of will; one strand is easily broken, but combined, forms a rope of nearly
unbreakable strength. So it is for these two.
“Let their love for one another build upon their strengths, let each one’s strength become stronger
for the support of the other’s. Let each one’s weakness be diminished by the presence of the
other. Let each strength undermine each weakness, and let the bond between these two be as
this rope – together, unbreakable.”
With that, he wound the other end of the satin rope about Bill’s wrist, tying the two together, hand
over hand. When he finished, he picked up the candle once more.
Handing it to the couple to be held by their bound wrists, the minister again spoke, “Let this flame
symbolize their love. Where light burns, shadow is melted away, darkness is forced back. Evil in
the presence of light cannot survive, and so let their love be like the candle; may it never burn out.”
Lighting the candle with the tip of his own wand, the minister bowed over the flame, placing a hand
on each of the bound ones. “Remember; this union does not symbolize the combining of souls,
for to do so is for one soul to overtake and destroy another. You are two separate people forming
an eternal bond of love and dedication.
With a grin, the Minister took the candle, and turned the couple to face the gathered friends and
family. “I give you Fleur and Bill Weasley! And now, because I’ve always wanted to say this…
You may kiss the bride!”
Amidst the cheering, the two kissed, nobody having noticed that not once had Harry Potter\'s eyes
left those of Ginny Weasley\'s the entire time.
Author’s Note: Ah yes. So, still no smut. Sorry, but I’m not at all sorry! Got to have
a story before you have the smut, or all you have is meaningless porn!
Ok, ok, so sometimes that’s not a bad thing… but I want you to enjoy the story as well. I hope these
two plot chapters haven’t bored you too much. There’s more to come, though things slowly get a little
hotter.
Bit of a longer chapter though… hope that’s alright! Though not quite as long as they\'re likely to get.
If you couldn’t tell though, I’m a wee bit of a romanticist and absolutely adored writing the
wedding scene.
Anyway. Still looking for a beta, and I’d love some written reviews if you want to give them!
(Ahah, I know, you’re all waiting for the porn first! Bah! Bah, I say!)
Drop me a line, or send me a message! Pcharmes2@aol.com for email, and pcharmes2 for aim!
Thanks!
Another update coming soon!