The Riddle House
"Oh, shut up, Ronald," Hermione promptly elbowed the towering redhead in the stomach.
"Give it a minute, woman…" Ron rolled his eyes, and none-too-delicately pried a tattered piece of parchment from the talons of a small, auburn owl.
"What is it?" Harry inquired. He shifted in his seat, desperately running a hand through his untidy hair. They needed something, and soon.
"Boys! Now is not the time, do you not see where we-"
"It's from Lupin! Harry – look!" Ron interrupted Hermione, vaguely waving her off. As Harry hesitantly took the letter from Ron, the annoyed expression froze on Hermione's pale face. She gaped for a moment and her hand – which was manicured, rose-pink, and topped with a light purple corsage to match her dress – slowly rose to her mouth.
"What does it say?" she murmured, using the same hand to tuck a few curly tresses of hair behind her ear. Ron only shrugged, eyeing Harry suspiciously. Harry met his gaze for a split second before his curious emerald eyes flickered to the yellowed parchment.
Harry-
Meet me in the cottage hall after the rehearsal. I've got something to tell you about You-Know-Who…
Harry's gaze darted hopefully to Ron, Hermione, and back to the letter.
I'd say more here, but I am afraid this bloody owl can't tell water from bricks. We don't want any nosy guests getting involved, now do we? Hope it finds its way to you.
Remus
Harry tilted his head slightly and found Hermione's dark eyes reading the note from over his shoulder. Briefly amused, as the owl had indeed originally carried the letter to Ron, who was sitting two chairs away from Harry, himself. Hermione made a satisfied yet curious 'hmm' sound as she finished reading. Three pairs of inquiring eyes shifted to the ex-professor sitting a row behind them. Lupin was staring in the general direction of the laughing couple – Bill and Fleur, that is – although his mind seemed elsewhere. The werewolf's hand was loosely intertwined with that of Nymphadora Tonks, who was wearing a dark purple dress, contrasting sharply with the witch's bubblegum pink pixiecut. Lupin seemed to sense he was being watched, because his eyes slowly snapped back into focus and round Harry, Ron, and Hermione studying him intently. The tired-but-happy looking man smiled and casually pointed his free hand at the temporary – and temporary looking, at that – cottage standing adjacent to the Burrow.
Harry nodded, scrutinizing Lupin's expression – or lack thereof. The sixteen-year-old was faintly aware of Ron and Hermione turning back around in their seats, but he couldn't seem to take his gaze of Lupin… as he shifted slightly, as Tonks rested her head on his shoulder, as he smiled – whether in at something wedding-rehearsal related or Tonks-related, Harry wasn't sure –, and even when people began to stir as the ceremony came to an end.
Lupin knows something… he might have a lead… this could be itThoughts raced through Harry's mind like an upset Firebolt. Finally, as groups of Weasley relatives and family-friends rose around him, Harry quietly turned around. Most of the people Harry knew were still seated – laughing, talking… crying. A hysterical Molly Weasley was hugging Fleur, mid-sob; the French blond looked as if the breath had been knocked out of her, but a happy smile spread across her face and she hugged her soon-to-be mother-in-law back. Harry saw Moody talking with a pair of smirking Fred and Georges, and by that, a literal pair - alas, doubling charms. Harry's eyes traced many familiar faces, many, many redheads, one in particular catching his gaze, and finally landed back on his two friends. Hermione was looking at her dress, and Ron was looking at Hermione. Harry held back a small smile.
"Let's go. Sooner we meet with Lupin, sooner we can grab seats for dinner."
Startled, Hermione quickly looked up at Harry – Ron blinked rapidly, blushed, and stood up – and Hermione slowly followed in suit. "Let's go, then."
The trio maneuvered across the lawn to the not-so-sturdy cottage a good portion of Bill and Fleur's wedding guests were staying in. Of course, Harry and Hermione had the ultimate pleasure of sleeping in the Burrow instead. In fact, just this morning Harry had woken up to find Fleur and Mrs. Weasley arguing over bloody flowers, and that had only been the most sensible thing they had quarreled about that week. Reaching the dark, wooden door, a stream of music and laughter echoed from just inside. Hermione grabbed the handle roughly and hissed, pulling back her hand and shaking it as if the doorknob were on fire. "Blasted nail," she muttered angrily.
The brunette had been going on about her manicured nails ever since Fleur had forcibly convinced her a pink coat was desperately needed. Girls… which was also precisely what Hermione had grunted post-pink.
Harry pulled open the door, revealing crowds of guests, all with the look of people who were tired of being crunched together in the same tiny space. One woman, Harry could only assume she was one of Fleur's family, was yelling in French about a pair of stilettos lying in the middle of the room. Neville was sitting in the far corner of the wide living/entrance room, and he waved hello at Harry and Ron. Hermione was already headed to the back of the house, where a hall-shaped room stood, dimly lit, and almost empty. Harry waved back at Neville and dodged Fleur's bridesmaids, who were giggling at someone in an orange tux.
Harry stepped into the hall and all train of thought froze. He only hoped that he looked at ease on the outside, as his insides were raging, as if a fire had suddenly erupted in this ribcage. Why did this happen everytime he saw her? Harry edged backwards, past Ron and Hermione, until his back was against the wall. The dark wood was cold and, acting as a wake up call, it sent Harry back to reality.
"Hello," Harry's voice, to his immense relief, came out casual and carefree – completely opposite from what he was, indeed, feeling.
"Hi. How're you all?" Ginny stood up suddenly, and pushed the elegant chair she had been sitting in back towards a coffee table in the room's back corner. She inspected the three of them, intentionally avoiding Harry's eyes.
"Alrigh-"
"Ron! Where's Harr- oh, hello Harry." Lupin bustled into the hall, his expression almost nervous looking.
"Hey Lupin," Harry replied, glad for the distraction, and for somewhere else to look.
"Hello Professor," Hermione chipped in with a smile.
"Hermione. Nice to see you… though, I do believe I've asked you more than once to not call me 'professor'…" Lupin trailed off, returning her smile.
"Sorry. Habit. So, what's it you've got to tell us, then?" said Hermione. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Ginny, who had been beginning to evacuate, pause and glance at Hermione interestedly.
"Right, on to the point, then," Lupin took the chair Ginny had been reclining on and sat down. Now, even in the near-dark, Harry could see how tired he looked. The Order wasn't exactly thriving, one could say. "The Order has been looking for signs… or anything… and it was out of place, since…" Harry, suddenly, was only catching every other phrase; Ginny had come to stand next to him, although probably not intentionally, but still… "and Tonks and Moody found…" Harry was the person closest to the doorway, and she had been leaving just then… "there was some evidence of life in the Riddle House, looked as if somebody was checking…" Ginny's hand, only a few inches from his own, twitched slightly, "so we – the Order – were going to see if –," As if Merlin himself had bewitched him and, without his control, Harry felt his own hand move, slowly, toward hers. "But Dumbledore said, once, before he, well, you all know…," Her hand was absently inching nearer and nearer to his, now, "…and so, instead of us going, I suggested the three of you look into it, because that would certainly be along the lines of what Dumbledore was suggesting," slowly, slower, in fact, than Harry wagered he'd ever done a thing, his fingers carefully intertwined themselves with hers. "…Harry…Harry?" Lupin's voice raised a notch, not loud, but just enough to seem shrill in the previously quiet – save Lupin's hushed tones - hall.
Ginny's hand shot back to her side, so quickly that Harry still felt the ghost of it in his hand for a good minute. He gradually pulled his own hand back, answering Lupin, "Yeah. I mean, if Dumbledore said…" Lupin's words were only just registering in Harry's fogged brain. "Wait… so, the Order thinks Voldemort was at the Riddle House… why?"
Hermione stepped on Harry's foot, and suddenly comprehending, his brain went through an 'ohh' motion. There was a Horcrux at the Riddle House. Why else would Dumbledore be keeping tabs? Why else would Dumbledore have told the Order to alert Harry, the only other one who knew? The whole thing seemed painfully obvious, now, although, in Harry's defense, he hadn't exactly been paying the closest attention.
"Just something Dumbledore hinted, and now we have some solid proof of serious magic there. Although, I can't quite decide why Dumbledore wanted you three involved… any idea?" Lupin sat up in the chair, carelessly running a hand through his hair.
"No," Ron, Hermione, and Harry lied simultaneously. Lupin raised an eyebrow and studied three determinedly blank expressions. But, just when Harry was getting quite nervous, Remus Lupin sighed.
"I suppose he did always trust you all," he nodded at them, this time including Ginny, "…Also s'pose I can't blame him." Lupin smiled and got up. He placed his hand lightly on Harry's shoulder, "Good luck."
"Thanks. Er… you too," Harry replied. Ron and Hermione muttered goodbye to Remus, and Ginny started.
"See you at dinner Ron, Hermione… Harry," she dismissed herself with a final glance around the hall. Harry, Hermione, and Ron stood, staring at each other, mutely confirming their thoughts: They had to go to the Riddle House, find the Horcrux, and get toit.
Charlie Weasley's head popped into the room, the rest of his tall figure concealed by the door. "Dinner. Rehearsal dinner, at that. Better not be late, you know how mom gets." Ron grunted as to say 'if mum's going mad about me being late for dinner…'