Light had not fully taken hold of the sky as Harry and Tonks arrived at the Lansbury Hotel via their portkey.

It was early enough for dew to still cover the grass they found themselves falling upon. The fall served to clear the cobwebs of Harry's consciousness, his tired eyes brought painfully wakeful.

"We really ought to work out how to make that not happen every time," Tonks said, groaning as she stood up. Harry's fall had been lessened by their bags as he carried them on his back, though hers had not. "There's absolutely no way of making yourself look dignified after you've just fallen on your arse."

"I've just accepted it's part of my life now," Harry said. He pushed himself up with one hand, his other swiping away at the moisture that had soaked the back of his trousers.

"Worst part is the back pain," Tonks said, massaging her tailbone. She walked in a small circle, her legs moving with a sore limp. "How do you deal with it?"

"I just bought myself a really soft mattress and hoped for the best."

They'd been left at the very outskirts of the grounds of the hotel, its lands containing an immaculately maintained golf course. Even under the damp conditions of an English summer, the grass was still cropped close, and the trees were trimmed to artificial perfection.

Harry didn't have the fondest memories of golf courses growing up. Mostly, he remembered long hours caddying for Vernon and Dudley as they hacked their way through the local course in Little Whinging. Even so, he couldn't help but admire the view of daybreak that the open space offered, with burning red and gold beginning to break free of the murk and grey.

In the distance, the very top of the hotel peaked itself out of the treeline. And with each step, more and more was shown under the brightening sun. When the hotel was at last revealed, Harry thought it was a royal palace, with carved stonework, giant columns, and spires stabbing into the sky.

As with most feats of centuries-old architecture, Harry found the sight of it amazing. But it wasn't Hogwarts.

"I spoke with the team that did the initial sweep last night," Tonks said. "They didn't find any traces of spell usage, and there's been no evidence of any portkeys being used into or out of the area within the past two weeks."

"Whoever's doing this is good, then," Harry declared. "That, or they're planning on arriving with the rest of the guests."

With any luck, it would be the former. Sifting through the hundreds of people that would descend upon the hotel would undoubtedly prove more taxing than finding the inevitable trail of breadcrumbs that even the most careful of criminals left.

Unfortunately, as Harry and Tonks pulled forth their wands to test the hotel grounds for traces of magic, it seemed that luck was very much not on their side as their careful scanning brought forth nothing.

Magical transit was the most controllable form of magic available to wizards, with even the most simple of anti-apparition wards preventing the finest of wizards from ever entering a protected area. As a result, the most common protocol followed by criminals was to arrive at their target often weeks prior and, as covertly as was possible, create their own portkey passageway.

If they were good, it would take Harry and Tonks a couple of hours to find it, such was the nature of magic. It was often good at hiding its caster, but it was never good at hiding itself, and certainly not from either of them.

After that, all there was to do was match the signature of the residual magic to its caster.

Albus Dumbledore and his brother had made such a feat possible as they created a spell at the turn of the twentieth century to trace residual magic to its caster. It had earned them both a mastery in spell crafting; not that Aberforth would ever tell anyone that.

It was incredibly taxing magic. So difficult, in fact, that they did not teach it en masse to trainee Aurors despite how useful it could prove to be. It required two wizards, several hours of focus, and several periods of intricate wandwork, with the two casters needing a full day of recovery.

Harry had cast it roughly ten times in his entire Auror career, and only ever as a last resort. And, through sheer circumstance, only ever with Tonks.

"Have you given any real thought to our alibi, by the way?" Tonks asked, her wand trained on the grass. By contrast, Harry's traced the treeline, searching for any alteration to the norm, no matter how minute. "Because they're going to think that we're weird."

"Aren't they all going to be posh?" Harry asked. "What would they know about being normal?"

"They've spent their whole lives looking down their nose at everyone. I'm sure they know who they're looking down at by now."

They were walking along the ninth hole, according to a sign they walked past, with a lake upon their right and a line of trees to their right. It was the sort of place that Harry wished you were not forced to play golf to see, with how pretty it appeared in the early morning.

"Then no," Harry admitted, "I've not thought about it at all. I do watch football occasionally, so if all else fails I'll just start talking about that."

"They're probably all into croquet or rugby, so you might just manage."

"And what about yourself?"

"I thought you'd never ask," Tonks said, her voice turning theatrical. She stopped walking too and drew a deep, deliberate breath. "My name is Taylor, I'm twenty-eight, and I'm from Bath. I studied Philosophy at Durham University, and I currently work at my parent's non-profit." She dropped down and beckoned Harry closer, her voice becoming a whisper, "the non-profit is a scam!"

Harry smiled. "How's that relevant?"

She threaded her arm through his for a moment. "We've got to live this part, beloved," she said, her eyes peering up at him lovingly.

He shook his head. "But why would Taylor know about her parent's illicit activities?"

"She's a bright young woman," Tonks said. "She went to Durham. She figured it out for herself."

"But she studied philosophy," Harry said. "Morals, ethics. Do you really think she'd just sit idly by while her parents lied about their charity?"

"Who said she was just sitting idly by?" Tonks asked with a grin. "Maybe she's secretly been seeking legal advice from her lawyer boyfriend?"

Harry shook his head. "There's no way they believe I'm a lawyer."

Tonks gave out a hum. "It doesn't really fit your whole vibe, does it?" she pondered absentmindedly. "Maybe she's been seeking medical advice from her nurse boyfriend, so she knows how to kill them and get away with it?"

"Taylor could just do that to her parents? Just like that?"

"She's complex. Cold and calculating at times, warm and kind at others," Tonks told him. "It's what her boyfriend loves about her."

"That, and her flagrant desire of murdering her parents because of some minor embezzling."

"It's a lot more than minor embezzling, Harry," Tonks said. "Her parents are using the charity's fund for orphans to buy designer clothes. They like to look fashionable when they watch kids cry."

"You're really committed to this story."

"I couldn't sleep last night, so I stayed up thinking it through," she said, her thumb pushing at the corners of her eyes to rub away the tiredness.

"Really?"

"No. I slept like a baby," Tonks said, shaking her head at him, nearly bouncing in place as she did, her feigned exhaustion immediately. "It was the first thing that came to mind and I just ran with it." She flashed a smile, her hair shifting blonde. "It's called improv, babe."

"That was the first thing in your mind?" Harry asked. "That."

"I have an active imagination."

"So what are we actually going to tell people at this thing, though?" Harry asked her. "Because if you repeat that to anyone else in the world other than me, you'd get sectioned."

Tonks shrugged. "That we met in a café," she said. "I was the wealthy divorcée, you were the cute barista that seduced me."

Harry smiled.

"Taylor's divorced now?" he asked.

"She always was," Tonks said. "It's like my Aunt Narcissa once told me. Your first marriage is for money; your second is for love."

"What a wise woman."

"She would be if she followed her own advice."

Unfortunately, after walking through three holes of the golf course, they found nothing. The sun shone brightly in the sky, though their efforts remained as blind as ever.

"How did I seduce Taylor, by the way?" Harry asked as they arrived at the fourth hole. "Surely a woman as worldly as her would be too aware to fall for the wiles of a terrible barista like me."

"Try saying that five times in a row," Tonks said, as an aside. "Well, actually, you tell me. How did you?"

"This is your idea."

She laced her hand into his. "But we're together, beloved. What's mine is yours, what's yours is mine."

"Well then, I haven't a clue," Harry admitted, before suddenly shooting upward with the blooming force of an idea. "Actually, I do. I drew a heart in the foam of your latte, and you were so overcome with lust that you threw yourself at me at the earliest opportunity."

Tonks' hair turned into a silvery blonde as she raised a disapproving eyebrow at him. "Do you really think Taylor would be impressed by such a cheap trick?"

Harry nodded. "She's sentimental like that."

Tonks' resistance crumbled. "You're so right," she gushed, her face brightening as she spoke; Harry smiled at the sight of it.

"I'm jealous that your alter ego is so interesting," Harry said. "All mine does is serve terrible coffee and chat up divorced women." He threw his hands in the air. "He doesn't even have a name."

"He could be a Hadrian?" Tonks quickly offered.

Harry shook his head. "He's not a dickhead. So no, he couldn't be."

"How many Hadrians do you know?"

"One. Hadrian Pucey," Harry said. Adrian Pucey's older brother; weird family. He managed to work in the Department of Magical Creatures both during and after the war, somehow. "He was a big enough twat to poison the name forever."

"Oooh, I know what you mean. One summer when I was a kid, I met this girl called Lorelei, and she was awful. I was so happy when I found out she was going to Durmstrang," Tonks said. She clapped her hands. "Anyway, less about that, more about your name. Harvey?"

"I think that's worse," Harry said, his eyes squinting closed. "Hadley?"

Tonks grinned. "I love it," she said. "And we're even matching now; we've both got last names as first names."

"Sorted," Harry agreed. "Every detail is just bizarre enough that no one would ever question it."

To the fulfilment of their lowest expectations, Harry and Tonks' survey came up empty, and so they were forced to meet Sally-Anne Perks blindly and empty-handed. It was not without labour that they came to that conclusion, as the sun had risen fully by the time they made their way to the hotel, but it did seem unavoidable. Such a feeling was never comfortable.

Yet, as they scoured every inch of the hotel's lush exterior and found nothing, they were forced to charge toward the discomfort. Their only source of relief was that, with a hastily-applied charm upon the hotel grounds, should the culprit decide to strike that day, they would know of their appearance. It was not a particularly great protective charm, as it would have to be replaced the day after with the influx of guests staying at the hotel, but it was enough for now.

It was difficult to feel any great comfort as Harry and Tonks walked through the foyer, either, with its high chandeliers and ornate decoration. The hotel wore its wealth loudly and without shame; with gold-trimmed everything, and even the doormen wearing finer suits than any Harry himself owned.

Despite the years of public scrutiny, Harry had never found himself comfortable while being watched by the eyes of strangers. He'd long since stopped attempting to appease them, though still their gaze pin-pricked at the edges of his awareness. With their ripped jeans, messy (or, in Tonks' case, fluorescent) hair, and their visible lack of an Oxbridge education, Harry and Tonks stood out. Though if one were to look at Tonks, as Harry found himself doing, you would've never guessed so.

Her eyes did not spare a single glance at the expensive artwork on the walls, or the faintly disapproving looks that each passer-by gave them. To her, not a single part of it appeared to matter at all.

To dampen his growing self-consciousness, Harry reached into his pocket to feather the edges of his wand, the fractional contact allowing him to cast the very diagnostic spell he'd spent hours outside casting to no avail.

He found nothing there, either.

Tonks looked to him, their eyes meeting for a moment, and threaded their hands together as they walked, playing the part.

Oddly, it helped.

As they approached the front desk, the young receptionist manning it was as stunned at the two's appearance as the other guests. He didn't find his voice to greet either of them, his eyes instead fixated upon the pastel pink of Tonks' hair.

However, given the yawn he appeared to be stifling as Harry and Tonks reached the desk, it was more than likely because he'd only just woken up.

"We have a room," Tonks said, which served to shake him out of his stupor. "The name's Tonks."

"Oh!" 'Terrence', by his nametag, called out. "You're here for the wedding?" They nodded, and he smiled brightly; much too brightly for so early in the day, and for a man who'd been sleeping with his eyes open moments earlier. "Miss Perks is expecting you. She's in the conference room on the fourth floor." He reached beneath his desk for two keys, "and these are for your room. Sixth floor, number fifty-four."

"Thank you," they both chorused.

"Once you get settled, if you're looking for refreshment, the lounge is open currently, as is the restaurant and bar," Terrence said. "However, we do have a dress code, and one that all our guests are expected to uphold in their time here."

"We'll keep that in mind," Tonks said, already turning away from the desk, as Harry was too.

"The golf course is open for members only, I'm afraid," Terrence said. "But all other services are available to you." He gave the two a tight-lipped smile. "We hope you enjoy your stay."

"Thank you."

They walked hand in hand in complete silence until they reached the lift. Tonks pressed the button for the fourth floor with her free hand, and the two of them leaned against the back wall.

It was Harry that spoke first, though not before surreptitiously casting a muffling charm.

"Do you think that we might be the wrong people for this?" he asked.

"How come?"

"Well, muggle or not, this place feels like Draco Malfoy's wet dream," Harry said. He pushed up his glasses to massage the bridge of his nose, a headache already close to forming.

Tonks squeezed his hand. "We were always going to catch looks," she said. "Better for it to be for superficial reasons." She sighed. "Shame about the golf course though."

Harry laughed, surprising himself. "You play golf?"

"Oh, all the time," Tonks told him. "I could've gone pro if it weren't for the whole magic thing."

"Really?"

Tonks nodded. "I've got a crazy high handicap."

"I bet you do."

The lift door dinged open, revealing a long corridor that seemed to stretch endlessly.

"I've just realised," Harry said, as they began to traverse the seeming infinity. "Your name is ridiculous."

Tonks' mouth was agape. "You've known me what, ten years?" she asked. "And only just now did you realise that?"

"Taylor Tonks," he said, deliberately. "You sound like you belong in a nursery rhyme."

She pouted. "Or," she said, "or, I sound like a superhero. Reed Richards, Peter Parker, Bruce Banner." She paused, sweeping her hands outward as if to lay the stage for her words. "Taylor Tonks."

"What would your superpower be?"

She allowed the silence to grow, to properly emphasise the stupidity of his question.

"Shapeshifting, obviously."

Harry shrugged. "Bit boring, isn't it?"

"Really?" she asked. "I can grow wings and fly wherever I want, and that's boring?"

Harry stopped still. "Could you actually?"

Tonks stilled, too, holding her chin in a moment of serious contemplation. "I don't think so," she whispered, "I don't think I've got enough bone marrow, and my back's sore enough as it is these days without carrying a set of wings around." She frowned. "But I could do it if I was a superhero."

"I still think it's a little bit dull," Harry said. "Especially compared to like, superstrength."

"And that's so useful," Tonks agreed. She poked his bicep. "What with all the powerlifting you do."

"I'd be a superhero. I'd be fighting aliens every day. It's so useful."

"Until one of them gets a gun. Then, your super strength becomes super useful when you're super dead," Tonks said. "Face it, babe, I'm right."

Harry's rebuttal was prevented as they then found themselves at the very end of the fourth-floor corridor, and therefore outside of the conference room. They fell silent, and Harry turned the case over in his head another time to prepare himself.

It was an odd position to be in. To tell another person that they were in danger, and that, in order to survive, they needed to trust him with their safety. Doubly so in this case too, as Harry doubted his name held the same weight in this hotel as it did in his everyday life. The symbol that Harry had come to be was likely smaller in Sally-Anne's eyes, if indeed such a symbol existed at all.

"How much does she know already?" Harry asked Tonks. He preferred to stare straight ahead toward the door, rather than meet her eyes.

"Just that she was a likely target following the initial attack. Kingsley only managed to have a brief conversation when she and her fiancée came to pick up the Sumner," Tonks said. "Suppose we'll find out soon enough. Ready?"

Harry nodded. Tonks knocked on the door, and after only two raps on the door, a young woman appeared.

It was difficult for Harry to say whether or not she appeared greatly different from before. It'd been more than half his life since he'd seen her last. But he did find himself surprised.

She'd been blonde in his memory, though her hair was light brown in the bright fluorescent lights of that conference room. She was shorter than both he and Tonks, though she'd not been a tall child either. And, she still wore glasses just as Harry did, though hers had grown more fashionable in time, whereas his had remained the same.

Sally-Anne frowned at the sight of them, though they weren't about to bring a great deal of joy her way, so Harry couldn't blame her.

"Harry Potter?" she wondered quietly. Her eyes flicked up to the thin scar that still insisted upon staying on his forehead, and then to the stubble on his jaw that he'd not yet been bothered enough to shave away. "Is that you?"

"I go by Hadley these days, Sally," he said, holding out a hand to a shake, which Sally-Anne took by muscle memory. He gave her a nod as he shook, and she nodded back. "This is my partner, Taylor."

"Pleasure to meet you," Tonks said, shaking her hand too. "Hadley has told me so much about you."

"You too," Sally-Anne said. She beckoned the two of them into the conference room; they funnelled in hastily. "Let's catch up."

Harry and Tonks met eyes, their hands on their wands, waiting for the door to click closed. When it did, only then did they draw them out.

A pair of muffling charms blanketed the room, as did a ward of magical resistance, so as to completely prevent tampering.

In minutes, the room was more secure than any other in the muggle world, topped off with a seal on the door to airlock the room so that even an Extendable Ear couldn't be slipped between the gaps of the door and its frame.

"All good," Tonks said when their preparations were complete.

She looked over to Harry expectantly.

"It's been a long time," Harry said, his thumb rubbing a pattern against the handle of his wand. He repeated it once, twice, thrice.

"It's been forever," Sally-Anne said, folding her arms. She rested her hip against the conference table. "I don't think we ever said a word to one another."

"We did," Harry said, his voice soft in recollection. "We sat next to one another our first term. In Herbology."

"We did, didn't we?" Sally-Anne said. "I hated that subject. I would always end up covered in dirt." She pulled out a chair and sat down at the table, her posture perfect. "But we're not here for a trip down memory lane."

"Right," Tonks agreed. "We're here in our capacity as Aurors to ensure that you're protected from an attack. One that we believe a terrorist group is looking to perpetrate at your wedding."

"Wizards have terrorists too?" Sally-Anne asked. She laid her hands on her lap and twisted her engagement ring around her finger. "I thought that was just our thing."

"Unfortunately, it's not," Harry said. "With you being a muggle-born, and your fiance's father being who he is, your wedding presents an opportunity to spread the ideals of certain extremists in the wizarding community."

"I'm familiar with those 'extremists'," Sally-Anne said, her jaw tight. "Why'd you think I left Hogwarts in the first place?"

"I'm sorry," Harry said, for want of anything better. He spoke earnestly, though he knew how little it mattered.

Sally-Anne shook her head, her eyes steadfast as they refused to meet the careful looks of Harry and Tonks. "I was assured by the Headmaster that, if I were to leave your society, that I would be left alone," she said, her voice toneless. "No letters, no interaction, nothing."

"That would normally be the case," Harry said. "But eight years ago, our government was taken over, and before democratic power was restored, the names and known whereabouts of the country's muggle-borns were made public knowledge. We believe that is how they knew of you."

It was likely only luck that allowed her to avoid their attention during Voldemort's reign. Harry suspected her peculiar circumstances allowing her to slip through the cracks.

"You'd think you'd done enough to me, wouldn't you?" Sally-Anne asked, her jaw shifting beneath her pale skin. "You threw curses at me when I was a child, you called me a mudblood — whatever the hell that means. You'd steal my clothes whenever I left my dormitory. Most would've called it a day there."

Harry found himself at a loss for what to say.

"I understand that in your eyes we're all the same, and I understand that you've not had the kindest of interactions with our world," Tonks said, ending the screeching silence, "but we are here to protect you and your loved ones. We all want the same thing, I promise."

"No, we don't," Sally-Anne stated. "I want to be free of you and your world for the rest of my life."

"Well, given that, if you do dismiss Harry and I, the rest of your life will only extend as far as this Sunday. So, I think we both know that your wish isn't feasible currently," Tonks said, her voice even. "To get your wish, we're going to have to cooperate."

"I know," Sally-Anne said, her words spoken through gritted teeth.

"We will be completely out of your way," Harry assured her. "We won't interact with any of your guests unless it's absolutely necessary." His thumb patterned against his wand. "Neither seen nor heard. You won't need to change your seating plan at all."

"I'd hope not," she said. She shook her head to herself. "You know it just never quite seemed fair to me. I got sold a dream by that Professor Sprout when I was eleven, and everything since has just proved what a lie it all was." She swallowed. "And I can't even tell my husband about any of it, all to keep your stupid secret."

A heavy silence fell on the room.

"I'm sorry you have to go through this," Tonks reiterated, "but we are doing our utmost to keep you safe."

She finally lifted her eyes to look at the two of them. "Not seen and not heard, right?" They both nodded. "Good. I don't want to ever think of this week as the one where I was briefly reintroduced to the Wizarding World."

There was a knock upon the door then, sending all three heads turning to stare at the door.

"It'll be Hugh," Sally-Anne said, bringing a forced smile to her face. She stood and walked around the pair to the door. "Thank you for your time."

Harry and Tonks laced their hands together; their free hands undoing the enchantments they'd placed upon the suite, rendering it inert once more just in time for the last of the magic to bleed from the room as Sally-Anne's fiancé was revealed.

Hugh was a broad man, with square shoulders, blue eyes, and well-groomed blond hair. He appeared young, too, without question younger than Sally-Anne by perhaps three years, though beyond that, there was nothing brilliantly remarkable about him.

Except for the change his arrival brought about Sally-Anne.

Her jaw loosened itself into a true smile, her shoulders sagging into a posture that could, at last, be considered comfortable. She immediately made contact with him: her hand in his, her hips against his, her fingers passing over the arms of his cotton shirt.

"Darling," Sally-Anne said, "this is Hadley and his partner Taylor. He's the childhood friend I'd mentioned."

Hugh searched his fiancée's face for a moment.

"Nice to meet you," he said, giving them a smile that didn't meet his eyes.

"We were just going," Harry rushed to say. He and Tonks made their way to the door. "I'm sure we'll have a chance to get to know each other well enough over this week."

"I look forward to it," Hugh said, his voice quiet, though then he did not even look at them; looking solely at Sally-Anne instead.

"Sorry to hear about your father," Harry said. "I hope he makes a full recovery."

Hugh didn't respond at all, and Harry and Tonks took their cue to disappear down the endless corridor once more.