Originally posted by DarkC
Transition from one scene to the next is a wee difficult. I've got the actual wedding pictured perfectly in my head, but the filler is something different. 😬
I'm sure you'll figure it out. You don't even have to fill it in, really. JK jumps from scene to scene with only a couple of sentences between the two.
“We have.” Fred said.
“No we haven’t.” George raised an eyebrow at his twin, who smiled sheepishly.
“Everyone deserves credit.” Luna said smoothly. “Even Neville. He just needs practise.”
Harry missed the sprout he was chopping and nicked his little finger. Tapping the small cut with his wand, he mended it instantly and picked up the knife again, pausing to watch Luna.
Her movements were so fast and precise it seemed like she was doing all their jobs at once. Back to the sink for three carrots, enchanting a cleaver with her wand to neatly dice the carrots, it never seemed to stop or even stall.
“You’re really good at kitchen wandwork, Luna.” Harry sighed, tossing the sprouts into a mixing bowl. “Get lots of practice at home?”
”Oh, yes,” she beamed at him, levitating a strainer across the room that narrowly missed Fred. “Because it’s only my father and I and that he’s busy lots, I do a lot of the more feminine housework. I try to help him out as much as I can. Harry, pass me that bundle of leeks.”
“Sounds fun.” George said tentatively.
“Not really,” Luna chose to ignore his tone. “But it’s necessary and I suppose I’m the one who does it. I don’t really mind it though; if you lot want to take a break, I can handle it quite easily.”
“And lose our credit with mum?” Fred said indignantly. “Never!”
“We’ll feel pretty guilty if we left you here all by yourself anyways.” Harry said airly, waving a carver.
“Small matter.” Ron said, emerging with Neville from the front door. “Mum’s just about to enter anyways.”
“What a convenient time for you to make your entrance, little bro’.” Fred said grumpily. “We’ve done pretty much most of the catering work and whatnot.”
“I’m good like that.” Ron flashed a cheeky grin. Fred promptly shot a curse at him.
“HEY!” Ron shrieked indignantly and started scratching himself all over. “Take it off!”
“You took your sweet time in getting here.” George said, grinning evilly. “So it stands to reason that we’ll take it off after the time you took elapses.”
Fred started out jauntily. “T minus five minutes and counting!”
At that moment, Ron’s mother chose to come in. “…and we’ve got quite a reception planned for – Ron, what are you doing?”
“Fred cursed him.” Harry said.
”Did he now?” Mrs. Weasley said exasperatedly. “I’ll have his hide next time he does that to someone. It’s the day of the wedding, for Merlin’s sake.”
She did the counter-curse for Curse of the Itches, and Ron collapsed, sighing with relief. “Thanks, mum.”
“Don’t mention it.” Came the distracted reply. “Ooh, did you lot start on the catering?”
“Yes, Mrs. Weasley.” Harry said winningly. “We didn’t get much of a head start though.”
“Oh, thank you, dears!” said Mrs. Weasley, beaming brightly at them. “It was a very nice gesture, but I can take over now.”
“You’re very welcome, Mrs. Weasley.” Luna said graciously.
“Are you sure, mum?” Ron inquired doubtfully. “You’ve been at it for a week!”
“Oh, I’m well used to it by now, Ron.” Mrs. Weasley said happily, tying her apron so fast that the string split. She repaired it impatiently with a flick of her wand. “You may as well go and relax out in the backyard. Play a round of Quidditch. Or two. Or four.”
“Ermm.” Harry said, sharing a bemused look with Ron.
“We can help, Molly.” Madame Longbottom offered.
“You don’t think I can handle it?” Mrs. Weasley said in mock indignation.
“Sure we do.” Mr. Lovegood said, laughing. “But I for one, find that helping out beats sitting in the den and sipping tea aimlessly by a country mile.”
“I’d rather help out too, I was never of a group person. And I’m absolutely horrible at Quidditch.” Luna smiled slightly, wiping her hands on a tea towel.
Ron and Harry shifted awkwardly.
“Oh, well. If you must.” Mrs. Weasley said, smiling.
Luna flicked the towel at Harry and Ron playfully. “You two may as well go outside; I don’t trust you with a wand in a kitchen.”
Harry was torn between indignation and gratitude, as was Ron, who exclaimed: “Hey!”
“Have fun.” Luna said.
“Thanks.” Harry said, grinning.
As soon as they were out of earshot, Harry remarked to Ron; “After the wedding, it’s five straight days strict bed rest for your mum.”
“I hear that.” Ron said, laughing. “Dad will understand what you mean. He works for the ministry, that’s improved his multitasking, but mum will beat him by a long shot in amount of work getting done this past week.”
A minor explosion erupted several inches from Harry’s left ear. “OI!” He roared.
“Oh, whoops.” George’s voice said from a dark alcove.
“Try not to get too trigger happy, will you.” Fred grunted. “Stunning our own guests is very bad manners.”
“I’ll say.” Harry said, rubbing his head tenderly.
“Apologies for the Stunning Spell, but we were suspecting that Ron here may have wanted a little revanche.” George said, barely concealing a grin.
“Yeah, I do.” Ron glowered, “But that’ll come later. You two up for a round of Quidditch?”
“Sure, little bro’.” Fred said, rising up and stretching. “Prepare to get stomped.”
“You three set up the goals and pitch.” Ron said, turning to the stairs. “I need to use the bathroom.”
As Ron spoke, Harry noticed Ron slipping a Dungbomb out of his pocket, unnoticed by the twins. Before the twins could respond, Ron had bolted upstairs.
“Makes you wonder how much spiked pumpkin juice he drank this morning.” Fred said resignedly.
Harry shrugged at them. “I’m getting my Firebolt, be right back. You two go ahead.”
He caught Ron at the head of the stairs. “What are you doing?”
“A little revanche.” Ron said grimly, priming the Dungbomb for proximity fuse and setting it just inside Fred and George’s bedroom. “Come on, let’s go.”
“You are unbelievable.” Harry said, shaking his head.
“And proud of it.” Ron said, smiling broadly.
Harry grabbed his Firebolt next to his trunk, Ron picked up his Cleansweep Eleven, and they set off outside.
"It's been ages since I flew in a real Quidditch match." Harry said sadly.
"Chances are you're not going to in the near future anyways," Ron said. "Our world's been in turmoil. The International Quidditch League just barely remained, but they put some ridiculous security measures in place. Bit stupid really, in my opinion. Who'd want to hit a perfectly cheerful Quidditch Match?"
"Voldemort thrives on that, Ron." Harry said, ignoring Ron's blanching. "To him, it's just a matter of how much terror he can create. And terrorizing thousands of people at a Quidditch match would probably be something to do when he's bored. And why did you lead us here?"
They were standing just inside the third floor window, which Ron had flung wide open.
"Oh, I just thought to drop in with a little style, you know." he said cheerfully.
Ron launched himself outside and was immediately smashed in the side of the head with a large, rosy apple, which Harry assumed had been bewitched to mimick a Bludger.
Swearing, Ron flew down to join the play. After a second, Harry flew down to join him.
"What're the teams?" he asked.
"There are none." Ron said with a mock scowl.
"This coming from a beast." Fred snorted. "Fred and I against you three."
Both Harry and Ron glanced nervously at Neville, who was struggling simply to maintain his balance in the air, even if it was only a meter or so off the ground.
"Just stay solid in goal and we'll do fine." Harry said reassuringly as Fred and George flew down to their end.
Ron made a noise of annoyance and disbelief, but flew up to his goal. It was a large, heavy fish net with the net ripped out, tied to one of the higher trees. It had been magically enlarged
to give the offense a fair "So much for luxury." Harry said to no one in particular.
Fred pointed his wand at an ordinary, slight beaten up Muggle football, which rocketed straight up into the air; the impromptu game was underway.
Beating George easily to the makeshift Quaffle with his greater speed, Harry snatched it at the top of its arc and raced downwards. George made as if to cut him off, and Harry dished off a quick over-the-shoulder pass to Neville. However, Neville wasn't expecting it and missed completely, barely managing to hang on to his broom. Fred, swooping below, caught it easily. He came in on goal and was barely foiled by Ron, who wisely chose to move back play the shot instead of the deke.
Harry flew back to take it from Ron, and went to glide over to Neville.
"This isn't working, Neville." he said. "No offense, but it doesn't look you can catch a pass at the moment."
"None taken." Neville said, shrugging.
"So here's what we're going to do." said Harry. "You'll be with the Quaffle."
"What?" Neville said alarmingly.
"Don't worry, trust me on this." Harry said hurriedly. "You fly with it, okay? And as soon as one of the twins rushes you, hurl it at their head as hard as I can."
"O....kay." Neville said uncertainly.
The play began again, Neville rushing as fast as his cricket old broom would allow, straight down the center. As predicted, Fred dived down to block him.
Neville took aim, and hurled the ball as hard as he could. Fred, who didn't react enough, could only find time to grunt as the Quaffle bonked him right on the forehead. Fred was dizzy and stunned from the blow, and George could not get over his initial amazement fast enough to beat Harry to the Quaffle, who tucked it ea