"Harry, I've held my tongue for long enough! If you're leaving me behind, you'd better tell me exactly where you're going and what's going on- and don't you smirk at me!"
Violet Potter's face was bright red as the words left her mouth, wiping the smile off of her brother's face immediately. These feelings had been bubbling up inside her ever since she discovered Dumbledore had left Harry an important task. He had told her only a few days ago that he, Ron and Hermione would be leaving after Bill and Fleur's wedding, and he didn't know how long they would be gone. She thought he would change his mind, but evidently, this was not the case as Violet had caught Hermione packing a large stack of books on the morning of Harry's 17th birthday.
"Muffliato," Harry murmured, pointing his wand at the bedroom door. "Keep your voice down!"
Violet's eyes narrowed. "Why should I?" she shouted, her hands trembling. "This is stupid! Dumbledore wouldn't have wanted this! You must have misheard-"
"I misheard nothing!" Harry hissed in a frustrated tone. "We're not doing this because we fancy travelling for a year, Violet. We're doing this because if we don't, the alternative is…"
"The alternative is what?" Violet asked, her brown eyes narrowing.
Harry shrugged silently. "He'll win, and we'll all die for opposing him."
Violet's breath caught in her throat. She had long suspected that whatever her brother was going to do involved Voldemort, but this was the first real confirmation she had received.
"How can you be so calm about this?" she whispered, a tear rolling down her face. She sniffed, pulling her sleeve over her hand to wipe it away quickly as she perched herself on the edge of his bed. "I don't want you to go, Harry. Please don't leave."
"I have to," Harry said sadly, sitting beside her. "We have to. I'm not going to lie to you and tell you we're going to be safe because I don't know that we will be. All I know is that we have a job to do, and we need to succeed."
Violet nodded, her heart hammering in her chest. Without another word, she flung her arms around Harry's neck, hugging him tightly. Harry hugged his little sister in return, patting her on the back reassuringly.
The bedroom door swung open at that moment, and Violet saw Harry silently remove the silencing charm from the door as Ron entered.
"Alright?" Ron asked, looking from Violet to Harry. They both nodded silently. "Did I interrupt something?"
"I was just leaving," Violet said quickly, wiping her eyes as she approached the doorway. She lingered there for just a moment before turning to face her brother.
"Harry, I-"
"Me too," said Harry, smiling.
Violet nodded silently before closing the door behind her. She stood there on the landing, holding back violent tears that threatened to form in her eyes. Her breathing became shallow as she fought to hold inside all of the feelings that had been bubbling up over the last few weeks and months. There was nothing more that could be done; if Harry had made up his mind, nothing would change it.
Holding onto the bannister, Violet made her way downstairs, her eyes swimming with tears. Before she really knew what she was doing, she found herself in the Weasley's large garden where a huge marquee was being erected for Bill and Fleur's wedding. The sounds of happiness and laughter began to lift her spirits slightly, as did the glorious summer sun, which felt incredibly warm on her pale skin.
A shrill voice from the kitchen snapped Violet out of her daydream.
"Violet, dear! Why aren't you ready yet? The guests will be arriving in an hour!" shrieked Mrs Weasley, who was dashing around in the kitchen making the final preparations to the canapes.
"Sorry, Mrs Weasley!" Violet called, stepping back into the shade. "I'll go upstairs and get ready now."
"That's a girl," Mrs Weasley beamed. Violet couldn't help but suppress a smile as she watched the woman who had been her adoptive mother all of these years glide gracefully around the kitchen. Her second eldest son was marrying the love of his life, the sun was shining and everyone had almost forgotten they were in grave danger. There was nowhere else Violet would rather be.
Forty-five minutes later, Violet stood in front of the full-length mirror that stood in the bedroom she shared with Ginny. She took a deep breath, smoothing down the front of her dress carefully as she checked herself over for the third time.
Her dark, auburn hair was subtly curled around her pale face. The dress she had chosen to wear was a deep, emerald green colour that fell to the floor gracefully and almost hid her matching heels. The make-up was simple – a slight rosy cheek, mascara and a nude lip completed the look. For the first time since she could remember, she felt beautiful.
Once she was finally sure there was nothing more to add, Violet quietly made her way down the rickety staircase of the Burrow and out into the garden. A handful of guests had started to arrive and were being shown into the marquee by Ron, Fred, George and "Cousin Barny" – Harry in disguise. The sight was almost laughable, but Violet quickly remembered the reason that her brother was forced to hide his presence. If Voldemort knew Harry was here, not only would he be killed, but so would every other witch and wizard present.
A cold shiver ran down Violet's spine as she was forced to remember the events of a few nights previous when herself and Harry left the Dursley's for the final time. Mad-Eye and Harry's beloved owl Hedwig had been murdered. The Order of the Phoenix had been betrayed, and Voldemort knew of their plan all along. She had flown with Charlie Weasley, and had it not been for his quick thinking and skill, Violet did not think she would be standing there at that moment.
A soft tap on the shoulder from Hermione brought Violet out of her daze.
"Fleur's coming downstairs, we had better take a seat," Hermione said smiling. Violet nodded, following Hermione, the Weasley boys and "Barny" into the marquee.
"And now," said a booming voice, cutting through the music, "the newlywed Mr and Mrs Weasley will have their first dance."
Everyone put their hands together as Bill led Fleur onto the dancefloor, her beautiful dress gliding effortlessly behind her. The beat of the music slowed as the couple danced alone, surrounded by their friends and family.
After a minute, Charlie and Gabrielle joined the newlyweds, quickly followed by Mr and Mrs Delacour, and finally Mr and Mrs Weasley.
The lights inside the marquee shone brighter now as the sun gave way to the moonlight, and Violet used this moment as a distraction as she slunk away to the drinks table. She quickly grabbed a champagne flute – of which there were many magically refilling themselves – and drank it quickly, placing the empty glass back on the table.
"If Harry or Mrs Weasley had seen that, you would be in serious trouble," a soft voice whispered in Violet's ear. She jumped, spinning around to find Hermione standing behind her, a smirk on her face.
"It was one drink," Violet scoffed, trying to sound like she didn't care. In reality, she knew that Hermione was right. If Molly discovered she had even a sip of something, she would have been read the riot act in three seconds flat.
After a second, Hermione's face broke into a smile. "It's alright, I won't tell. Let's find a seat. My feet are killing me in these shoes!"
Violet followed obediently, sitting down with Hermione at an empty table. "I saw Viktor Krum earlier," she began, slipping her own shoes off. "He didn't look too happy…"
"He never does," Hermione giggled, placing her own shoes on the empty seat on her left. "Okay, perhaps that was a little harsh," she whispered, seeing the look of shock on Violet's face, "but he does tend to always have a slight... brooding look about him."
"You don't still write to each other, do you?" Violet asked, her eyes scanning the room lazily. The beat of the music had changed to a livelier tune, so many more guests had taken to the dance floor.
"No, we haven't corresponded for a while now," Hermione admitted. "I've had far too much to think about recently, anyway. Boys are nowhere near the top of my list."
"Is that so?" Violet laughed, raising her eyebrows in Ron's direction. "You'd better tell him that before you go off galavanting!"
"Ron is just as focused on the task ahead of us as I am," Hermione said tonelessly. "Speaking of boys, have you told Fred that you fancy him yet?"
Violet's heart stopped momentarily in shock, her eyes widening as they met Hermione's. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. After what felt like ten minutes, her brain snapped back into gear. Her secret had been discovered, and there was no point in denying it. She could feign ignorance or she could get answers.
"How… how did you know about that?" Violet asked, trying to sound calm.
"You're not the only Potter who talks in their sleep," Hermione said simply, shrugging at the mortified look on Violet's face. "I haven't told anyone! Ginny already knew, of course-"
"Ginny already knew? Why didn't she say anything?"
"I suppose she was waiting for you to tell her," she continued. "She doesn't mind, Vi. She just doesn't want to see you get hurt."
Immediately, Violet knew what Hermione meant. She felt her breath catch in her chest and she closed her eyes for a moment, willing the tears not to escape. Once she felt brave enough to open them, her brown eyes searched the crowded room for Fred.
He was sitting with a beautiful French girl at a quiet table in the corner of the marquee. Her hand was resting on his forearm as she threw her head back, a melodic laugh leaving her lips. Fred was smiling, obviously delighted that his hilarious joke had hit its mark.
"He would never feel the same way," Violet whispered, tearing her eyes away from the flirting couple. "And Harry- "
"There is no such thing as never," Hermione said resolutely, "and if Harry has a problem with it, then pot- "she held out one hand "-kettle," she smiled, raising the other. "What could he possibly say?"
Violet opened her mouth to speak, but at that moment a blinding orb of light shot through the roof of the marquee, hovering a foot above the ground at the centre of the dancefloor. A deep, booming voice resonated from the shape as it transformed into a Lynx.
"The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming."
