Harry did not sleep well at all, and so he arose early into the day. Early enough for the world not to nearly be awake enough to call itself morning, with scarce brightness and scarcer disturbance.

His mind had not been kind to him in the night. It seemed to find joy in repetition, of images he would much rather not see, real and imaginary. His eyes burned when he opened them, and yet all the rest of him burned when they were closed, so he met the day within the balances of two miseries.

Yet, where sight ached, touch soothed.

Tonks' hand was still in his. To his stunned delight.

Her hair was pastel pink; just as it had been all the day prior. He could not see her eyes, though he knew them to be brown. She still hung at the furthest edges of the bed, unmoved.

But, her hand was still in his.

After the calamity of the day prior, Harry and Tonks found themselves, in the earliest wakeful hours of the day, standing outside of a conference room containing Sally-Anne.

They held each other's hands. They hadn't truly stopped doing so, beyond the brief moments of leaving the room the other occupied. Tonks did not meet the contact of his eyes with her own, but her touch always remained.

"So, did you find anything in that closet?" Harry asked of Tonks, as they counted down the moments until it was time enough to knock on Sally-Anne's door. Ordinarily, Tonks hated being early, but Harry far preferred it where work was concerned, and he could only be thankful that in this she accommodated him so easily.

"Outside of enough poison to crown yourself Pope, not really," Tonks said. "Kingsley sent over the new team pretty quickly and they did a pass of the room the Powell's had been given." She shook her head. "Jeffers wore the most ridiculous, obviously-not-an-actual-muggle clothes you've ever seen. Moron."

"I take it they found nothing either?"

"Apparently not," she agreed. "But that means absolutely nothing to me. There could be a nuclear submarine in that hotel room and I'm not convinced he'd be any-the-wiser."

"He was second in his year at Hogwarts."

"Must've not been a very good year then," Tonks said. Harry frowned at her. "He's the one who shot a charm through Hendricks."

"Shit. He was, wasn't he?" He had no idea how he'd forgotten it, truly.

"You see my point?" Tonks added. "I mean, I watched you train him. He was good then. Why's he just so bad now?"

As much as training missions and Senior Auror-guided raids could do, you could truly never know the manner of someone's behaviour and competence until they'd been allowed to properly fail.

"With any luck, he'll find his desk more interesting than his cases," Harry said. "We better do our own pass of that room soon."

No wizards other than Aurors had entered the hotel, they knew. And, there had not been any overt magical use — wards, enchantments, traps and transport — so as to properly prepare for an attack. Yet still, there were artefacts that could pass such checks, and so, no matter how innocuous they appeared, it would never hurt to check.

It had been one of the first things that Tonks had told him when he'd started at eighteen.

'Trust your fellow Aurors,' she had said, 'but don't mistake trust for faith. Always, always check for yourself.'

And the advice had not yet seen him wrong.

Furthermore, in the time that he had been waiting for Tonks to wake up, Harry had, out of an odd hunch, searched their briefing notes for any mention of Richard and Margery.

He came to learn that they were the Greenwichs, and they had been married for twenty years. And nothing else.

Just like the rest of the guests.

The time came to meet Sally-Anne and so, without any more time wasted, Tonks knocked on the door. Sally-Anne didn't allow for the second knock to come before pulling the door open.

"More, is there?" Sally-Anne asked, folding her arms. "Come in."

Tonks had made her aware of the need to meet on the day prior while Harry was at the hospital. Time, however, did not make her more amenable to their appearance, and Harry truly couldn't blame her.

To be pulled away from the person you love, at the purportedly happiest time of your life, and thrust into a world you'd fled years ago was a fate Harry would wish on no one.

"So," Sally-Anne said after the door was shut and the privacy charms were upon the room again, "what is it?"

Harry cleared his throat.

"Yesterday, we found the Conservative MP Elliot Powell and his son in the hotel, under the effects of mind-altering magic," he said, his voice toneless. "He had been conditioned to attempt to gift you and your fiancé with poisoned whisky as a wedding present." He cleared his throat again. "In our eyes, this holds a clear connection with the attack on your Mr Sumner."

"Elliot Powell," said Sally-Anne. She did not sit at the table, choosing instead to stand, her spine held stiffly. "He was here?" They nodded. "And it escaped the notice of both of you until he had already attempted to kill me?"

"Ms Perks, our role here is to address threats pertaining to the magical world," Tonks said. "Your government has provided a security service for mundane threats against you, which should've noticed his arrival." That security service had been checked by Tonks as well, leading to nothing. She raised her index finger. "However, in light of their mistake, to ensure your continued safety, we have enlisted a surveillance team to oversee the remainder of this event."

Sally-Anne shook her head, resigned. "They really do oversell your abilities, you know?" she said. "That Dumbledore really made it seem that you were all-seeing and all-knowing, and yet you couldn't even find Elliot-bloody-Powell right in front of you."

"With respect, Sally-Anne, we did find him," Harry said. "While it could've been quicker, the threat was prevented."

"I understand that," Sally-Anne said, twisting her engagement ring around her finger, "forgive me if I expect slightly more of people that have magic. If I just — just expect more."

"You're forgiven," Tonks said, with a tight-lipped smile. "Moving forward, with the heightened sense of danger, we believe it is necessary for a slight change in our involvement. While before, we would simply watch the events for the guests occurring today and tomorrow, we believe it necessary to be closer."

"You want to be seen and heard, you mean."

"Not want," said Harry. "Need."

"The contents of all the food and drink that the Hotel possesses have been checked for both magical and non-magical interference," Tonks said. "However we wish to ensure that nothing, as you yourself have alluded, slips through the cracks."

Harry would never stop being amazed at just how good she was at the job.

"I can assure you, Ms Perks, that we don't wish to be here any more than you wish for us to leave," Tonks said. "Believe us, nothing would make me happier than to leave you to your wedding and your marital bliss, but we're here now. Let us do our job, and then we will leave your life."

Sally-Anne sighed, leaning back to rest herself against the table of the conference room. "As you keep reminding me," she said. "Do you have any idea on who it might be that's doing all this?"

"Given that muggle-born prejudice is a fairly insular idea within the UK, we know it to be a domestic threat. Your information is not internationally accessible, either."

"Is it not possible that it's a political threat?" Sally-Anne asked, beginning to pace in front of Harry and Tonks. "I mean, they've targeted two different MPs, not me. It definitely looks politically motivated."

"It's often the M.O of the Death Eaters, that being the terror group we believe at cause, to use loved ones as targets," Harry said. "They prefer to operate in fear, rather than clear attack."

"It's not working," Sally-Anne said, her lips pursing together. "I'm not afraid."

"Good," said Harry, offering her a smile. "That means we're winning."

"Their overt cause, I'm sorry to say, is the supremacy of wizards and the subjugation of muggles," said Tonks. "They are, in their attacks against Mr Sumner and Mr Powell, showing the ease with which they can hold power over muggles."

That was why they were taking such enormous efforts to harm Sally-Anne. One who had rejected that power, the superiority in their eyes, to live a life that they could not even hope to fathom.

And, a happy one at that.

"Okay," Sally-Anne said. "Not that I apparently need to give you this, but you have my permission to attend all events as true guests." She sighed. "I'll adjust the seating plan while I get my hair done."

"Sorry," Harry said.

Sally-Anne shook her head, closing her eyes for a moment.

"What happened with Elliot Powell, anyway?" she asked, as her eyes opened. "Did he get taken to that hospital — St Mungos, is it?" Harry squinted at her. "Susan had a Potions incident with that arsehole teacher, and she had to spend a weekend there."

Harry hummed, thoughtful.

"He and his son did, yes," Tonks agreed. "They will make a full recovery, and have absolutely no memory of their inadvertent involvement."

"Good," Sally-Anne said. "Last thing this wedding needs is more publicity."

"Susan is a member of our parliament, by the way," Harry said, the sudden shift drawing two immediate looks. "Youngest full member in two centuries."

Sally's paused, her words slower than her eyes.

"Good," she said, eventually. "She was always very nice to me. Very kind."

"She's still kind," said Harry, fondly. "Doing a world of good, and making her family proud."

Sally-Anne scratched at her cheek, the edges of a smile peeking through, though one Harry could've entirely been imagining. A change from her usually irritable demeanour. "I'm glad," she said. "I'm happy that she's happy."

"We could pass along a message to her if you'd like?" Harry quickly offered. "I'm sure she'd be relieved to hear that you're alright."

"What do you mean?"

Harry paused to swallow a breath.

"Your case is quite a lucky one," Tonks said softly. "During the coup of our government, there were a string of violent attacks orchestrated against muggle-borns. Many did not survive it."

"Oh."

"A lot of time has passed since then, and with the removal of their leader, the Death Eater's cause has dwindled," Harry said. Tonks gave a sideways glance at his phrasing. "Yours is the first this year."

"If it's something you're interested in," Tonks added, "we will make it perfectly clear to Susan that you're more than happy in the muggle world, and that you wouldn't wish to be contacted. But, it would offer some peace of mind to her, I'm certain."

Sally-Anne nodded. "If you make that clear, then I think I'd like that," she said. Her pacing stilled. "I left your world to spare pain. I'd hate to cause it."

"Then we can definitely do that," Harry said. There had been talks in the DA of a meet up later this month. Despite the power many of its members now held, they still did all often find time to reminisce. "Is there anyone else you'd like for us to contact?"

Sally-Anne fidgeted with her engagement ring once again. "Cho Chang, if you wouldn't mind," she said. "She was lovely to me. She was the one that let me know that I didn't have to stay at Hogwarts if I didn't want to." She laughed humourlessly. "Found me crying a lot more than I'd like to admit."

Harry smiled.

"Of course," he said. "She's married to a muggle, by the way."

"Really?" Sally-Anne asked, her voice coming out faster than her mind anticipated. "I never would've imagined that."

Harry nodded. "I was at the wedding. He's a Physics Professor at the University of Manchester."

All of the DA had been invited; the very fact that Harry himself was included was the biggest surprise, given everything. Hermione had spent hours talking with him, each of them equally delighted.

After the war, the Statute of Secrecy had shifted so that a muggle married to a wizard or witch was then permitted to know of the existence of magic. Hence, Harry had been witness to Cho's husband's first-ever sight of magic, as Cho had been overcome with joy at their first dance that she'd accidentally conjured fireworks into the sky.

Her husband had taken the ruining of his life's work remarkably well. So well, in fact, that he was the first muggle to ever work for the research division of the British Ministry, researching the limits and bounds of magic as it relates to the laws of the universe.

"I'll let her know," Harry said.

"Thank you," Sally-Anne said.

The change to their plans brought with it small talk, Harry found himself realising, as he and Tonks finished getting ready to go to the hotel's main hall.

They were scheduled to attend the afternoon tea prepared for the wedding guests. Alongside having to yet again wear a suit, the storm of discomfort that then brewed left the afternoon holding decidedly grim prospects.

Harry stared at himself in the mirror of the bathroom, watching the grimness fall across his features.

"Should I shave?" Harry asked Tonks over his shoulder, the tip of his wand held against his cheek in preparation. He didn't know whether or not it was by genetics or magic, but his beard always grew far too quickly to maintain a close crop for very long. At least comfortably, anyway.

Tonks shook her head. "Nah," she said. "You're just starting to look like you again."

Behind him, he could hear her stumble about in her attempt to get dressed. Thankfully, she'd forbidden him from looking until her appearance was to her liking. He didn't imagine she'd meant it mercifully, but he'd taken it as mercy all the same.

He was a very devoted Auror. Of that, he had no doubt. Yet, the sight of her, undressed, might've proved otherwise. Propriety could only carry him so far. And he doubted it could carry his eyes away from her.

Coupled with the teasing he would undoubtedly receive, it was twice the mercy.

Harry shook his head, attempting to shake away such thoughts. They lingered nonetheless.

"Did Jeffers find out who we were sitting with?" Harry asked, his voice softer than he would have preferred it to be. He dropped his wand from his skin and just looked at himself. Red splotched against his cheeks, and he willed it away.

Harry heard a landing, and then a groan.

"Absolutely not," said Tonks, definitely laying on the floor. "Fucker couldn't organise a pissup in a brewery, let alone find the one table that has our names on it."

Another groan met his ear.

"Are you alright there?" Harry asked. "That sounded painful. Do you want some help?"

"No, it's alright," Tonks said. "I'm only in my knickers, and I know how much you'd hate to see that." She laughed. "I'm not sure your fragile heart could take the stress."

Harry didn't speak immediately. He doubted he was able, and he certainly didn't wish to find out if he was able or not.

His eyes dipped closed unconsciously; the world that existed behind his eyelids, of Tonks as she then proclaimed herself to be, was a sight far preferable to anything he saw with his eyes open.

She might be right. He doubted his fragile heart could take it.

Yet.

Yet, that did not stop that fragile heart from wanting.

He turned on the tap, cool water gushing into the sink. He cupped it in his hands and threw it against his face, the cold snapping away the whirlwind of thoughts that'd ran through and taken him.

And yet.

And yet, his eyes dipped closed again and he could only see her. With her form held in the dark shadows of night, beneath him. Her mouth open and gasping breaths falling out, her eyes fluttering as he worked over her. His mouth at her neck, kissing and licking along her skin. His hands at her hips and her moans meeting his ears.

"Oh, beloved," called Tonks, her voice floating toward him. "You can turn around without being offended. Well, mostly."

His head shot up, his eyes opening at long last as he turned to look at Tonks.

And reality became so much better than fiction.

She'd changed her dress from what she'd worn earlier that day. This one was a light grey, and one she would willingly wear outside of the job.

The contentment in her new clothes was entirely obvious. Even her own seemingly limitless confidence soared to new heights then, with her dress' sharp angles and swooping lines in opposition to the flowy, soft shapes of what she'd worn previously.

She wore boots then too, rather than the heels she'd worn on the days before.

And her hair was now purple. Her purple.

She did not allow the shade to seep into the roots of her then-brown hair, allowing it to appear dyed, yet still, she finally looked like herself again, in a way that sank to the bones of her. He hadn't a clue of how he hadn't noticed it before, but he'd missed her hair like that.

Her grin was blinding. It made him grin blindingly too, her eyes spellbinding.

"You look like yourself again," Harry said, a touch breathless.

Tonks grinned yet more brightly still. "I'm glad you noticed," she said. "Your thoughts on the ensemble?" She passed the back of her hand over the front of her dress. "Is it giving you an aneurysm? Because that's what I was hoping for."

"No aneurysms yet, unfortunately."

She pouted. "That's a shame," she said, her hand dropping to the soft skin of her legs. The dress ended halfway up her thigh; the other half was quickly appearing as she pulled up the soft cotton. "I could take off some of the length?"

Harry shook his head. "You'll kill half the guests," he said. "The average age is almost a thousand."

"What a way to go," she said, with a devilish look in her eyes. "But, I'll be a good girl."

Harry just couldn't look at her after that. Even as she laughed at him, as his eyes darted away, once more inspecting that scene of Eden.

Tonks walked over to him; an event he allowed himself to watch only out of the furthest corner of his eye.

"It's a real shame you're so cute when you're being teased," Tonks said, stopping a foot away. Harry still didn't look, no matter how much he yearned to do so. "For you, I mean. It's great for me."

"It's impolite to tease."

She smiled at him. He could not see it, but he knew it was there.

"Baby, when have I ever cared about being polite?" she asked. Her hand ghosted over his arm, the simple act clearing his mind of almost everything save for how much he wanted her to truly touch him. "Who needs politeness when you can have fun instead?"

"Well, I'm happy that you're happy," said Harry. He allowed himself the briefest of looks toward Tonks, and that already was beyond enough for him to handle. "Now, are you going to force us to remain…intimate, or are we going to do our jobs?"

"That's not fair," said Tonks, her nose crinkling. "I was having such a lovely time and you've gone and ruined it."

Harry smiled. "Now you know how I feel."

She poked him in the arm, attempting to draw his eye to her.

"Really?" she asked. "Me, in this dress, ruined your day?"

Harry looked at her properly then, staring into her eyes. They swirled into endless expanses of dark blue and inky black, their darkness just as he imagined them. Yet still, the reality was so much better than fiction.

"Not ruined, no," he said, standing tall above Tonks, forcing her to look up so that she could look at him, her eyes cast wide by the difference in their height. "It just makes life difficult is all."

"Really?" she breathed. "How so?"

"Because we're here to work," he said, leaning closer toward her, sharing her space. He expected her to move away, to push him away, but she stood as she was, right next to him. "You're distracting."

"And how am I distracting?"

"You're much more interesting to look at than anything I'm likely to see while working."

She laughed lightly, the sound spoken into his chest, so close was he to her. "I don't believe you."

"No?"

"Oh, I'm sure I'm fascinating to look at," she said, smiling confidently. "I just think you might want to do a little more than look."

Harry's blood cooled in an instant.

"Time to leave," he said, pulling away from Tonks and walking back into the bathroom to give himself a once over. A sound caught in the middle of a sigh and groan escaped her as he left.

"And just when we were getting to the fun part," Tonks said from behind him.

Harry stared at himself in the mirror again, and again he splashed cold water into his face, clearing away the last of the fog Tonks had brought.

Yet, just as he did so, he was not the only one that appeared in the glass, her chin coming to rest on his shoulder, and his shoulder propping up her smug smile.

"It doesn't matter anyway. At the end of the day, I still get you in my bed," she said, leaning into his neck. He watched her eyes close and her mouth smile into his skin. And then, he watched her lips kiss his cheek, their touch staying at once too long and much, much too short. "I hope I don't prove too distracting this afternoon."

As they set about walking to the hall, Harry found his mind clouded with confusion, his eyes focusing only on their held hands.

"So what's brought that all about?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" Tonks asked.

"You know."

"Do I?"

"Yeah," he said. "You do."

Tonks' walk slowed, slowing Harry's with it.

"You've gotta spice the day up," she said, though her intonation was odd. "This case is boring otherwise, and I refuse to have a boring time in your company. Yesterday was bad enough."

Her words made Harry pause.

He looked to her, a question in his eyes.

She shook her head.

"And that was spice?" he did ask.

"Colour, then," Tonks amended with a smile. "Did you not like it?"

He did. Of course he did.

All too much.

"So do you think Sally-Anne had a point about this actually being politically motivated?" Tonks asked, her legs walking quickly once more. Again, she brought him mercy, with talk of their work pushing his mind away from more...colourful, more attractive avenues. "Seems like a lot of effort is being put in to make it seem that way. More than they've ever put in before."

His mind was slow to work, but it did eventually allow the notion to turn in consideration.

"Maybe," he said. "I mean, the Muggle Studies course at Hogwarts doesn't even touch politics, and Death Eaters definitely don't touch the muggle studies course."

"So you think it could be another group?" Tonks asked. "Maybe one with ties to the muggle world?"

Harry shook his head. "I don't think so. If they were truly politically minded, they wouldn't have needed to compel Powell," he said. "The only way it could be politically motivated would be if they were some radical member of the Green party or something, and I don't think they exist."

Tonks smirked. "It's obviously a small group at play," she said. The attacks were too few and far between for anything else. "Three at the most."

"I'm still waiting to hear back properly from Kingsley about the Nott family," Harry said. He'd sent a Patronus this morning. They're apparently on holiday in Italy, but Harry remained unconvinced. "I still can't get that couple out of my head, either. They just seemed to know me."

"People are weird about faces," Tonks said. "You won't believe the number of times people come up to me and say I'm their old hairdresser or bartender or whatever."

Harry pointed at his scar. "I think it's a little different where I'm concerned."

"You always think you're so special, don't you, oh Chosen One?" Tonks teased.

They reached the lift at the end of their floor. Tonks pressed the button and the two stood waiting for the doors to open. Harry could feel her eyes against the side of his face but did not turn to look at her.

"In this case, yes," he said. "This isn't the sort of thing that you see everyday, is it? I don't think many people get into car crashes and end up with a lightning bolt on their face. I tend to stick out."

"I think it's more how pretty the rest of it is," said Tonks. Harry rolled his eyes, but she ignored him, preferring to hum in consideration. "You know actually, there's actually one motive that we haven't considered."

"Oh, really?"

Tonks' free hand began to creep up his body. First, laying over his hand, and then passing along his forearm until it grasped his bicep.

"Well, why would a rich, older couple go up to near-total strangers?" Tonks asked. She took a step toward Harry, her voice closer and yet softer, airier. "And, to the two hottest people in this entire hotel."

"That's not saying much," said Harry. His jaw shifted beneath his skin. "We're basically the only ones here without a pension."

"But you'd agree?" asked Tonks, taking another step closer. "That, of all the people here, we're the two ones that a couple would most like to...get to know a bit better?"

Harry inhaled through his nose. "For argument's sake, sure."

The lift dinged open. Tonks jumped away, returning to a respectable distance. Thankfully, no one was coming up and so they had the lift to themselves on the way down.

And so Harry, for the next few moments, was in a lift — a tiny lift — with only Tonks.

It would've been a non-event only days before.

And yet, then…

There was an event. One that was entirely unavoidable.

Harry walked stiffly in, his back steel-rigid, his neck stiff with the force of not looking at to his right. Tonks skipped in, swinging his arm along with hers as she did. She leaned over to press the button sending them down, sending the doors sliding shut.

The air was hot, his lungs burning as his breathing came in shallowly. He still did not look at Tonks. At her dark eyes, or the teasing smile he knew she then wore.

"So, maybe, just maybe, our guessing yesterday was wrong," Tonks said, her voice passing through the air like honey. Harry swallowed, the act drawing Tonks' eye, and in turn, drawing her close, her mouth only an inch or so from his ear, her hand on his shoulder blade. "I think they're swingers, and Margery is missing Stephen Sumner for a similar, but totally different reason."

Harry rolled his eyes; rolling them away from Tonks, not toward. "You're suggesting that we're walking into some horrific, old-age upper-class sex cult?"

"Why not?" Tonks asked. "Isn't that what they always say rich people are doing?"

Harry winced. "That's not a thought I ever wanted to have," he said, the discomfort allowing him to glance, at long last, at Tonks. She was grinning at him. "As teasing goes, this isn't your best work."

Her hand passed from his shoulder to the nape of his neck, gripping gently at the wild curls of his hair.

All of the air left the room.

He wanted to look away, from her swirling eyes and full lips, from her, but he couldn't. Her hand kept his eyes on her, and only her.

Tonks took a step toward him. Her long, bare leg rested in the middle of him, her hand holding him still by his wrist.

And her eyes, God her eyes, huge and staring up at him.

"Who said I was teasing?" she asked, her voice achingly soft.

"Tonks…"

Her tongue swept across her top lip. "Yes?"

"Tonks," Harry breathed out. "Stop."

By his hair, her hand guided him closer to her, until his ear was against her mouth.

"Make. Me."

The lift dinged open.

Tonks pressed a feather-light kiss to the shell of his ear, and jumped out of the lift, dragging him with her.

Harry didn't speak for a while after that. Or even think, for that matter.

Harry didn't recall much of getting to his seat, but his mind did clear by the time Tonks found their table. They were early by the nature of their purpose there; early enough to only have the wedding couple and their maid of honour and best man for company.

Yet, by the harried look Sally-Anne gave them as they were seated, their company would remain forever distant. She appeared caught in the sort of conversation that'd happened several times, and yet without being followed by the desired outcome. She pointed often to the name cards, and then the flutes of champagne that accompanied said name cards, and finally took a flute in hand and swallowed its contents all at once.

As they watched the interplay, Tonks' knee brushed against Harry's leg under the tablecloth. And remained there.

To distract himself, Harry surveyed the hall and found himself wishing he knew the first thing about chandeliers so that the gaudy designs that hung above him held even the slightest intrigue. But, he did not, and so Tonks remained the only thing his mind could ever truly take in with any fascination.

There was seating enough for five hundred people, with each table perfectly laid out with crisp white linens draped over the mahogany. The waiting staff milled around busily, correcting heretofore unseen micro-faults and infractions on the décor. Harry watched their faces, hoping to find Joshua, but he was not there.

They were to be sitting with a 'John Smith' and 'Jane Jones', according to the cards on their table. On the roof, Harry could see the slight shadows that he could sense belonged to Alicia Spinnet and Jake Howard.

"Do you ever wonder why people even do this sort of thing?" Tonks asked, her knee nudging against his calf. Her hand curled around her champagne flute. No alcohol would pass through her lips, nor his, and she'd placed the muffling charm over the table. "Weddings, I mean."

"Not really," said Harry. He pulled his leg away, but Tonks only followed. "All the ones I've been to seem like they're a lot of fun."

"Well yeah, for us they're fun," said Tonks. She propped her elbow on the table. "George and Angelina's? Amazing, one of the best nights of my life. But I really doubt it was one of theirs."

"It's a day of selflessness then," said Harry. Even then, on the neutral grounds of their conversation, he did not truly look at her. "A chance to make everyone else happy. To share your love with the world."

"But this is supposed to be the best day of your life, right?" asked Tonks. "And with all the money this costs and everything, you'd think you'd want something a bit more self-serving than that, but everyone seems to think the absolute best time is to spend a year's salary on funding their friends and family's huge one."

"Then maybe it's not about the day specifically then," Harry said. "It's more about the moments. So they can look back in twenty years—"

"—when they're probably married to someone else entirely."

Harry sighed. "Maybe," he said. "But say, ideally, they look back at the videos and pictures in twenty years and see the beginning of their marriage; the beginning of something that's made them really happy."

"But why go to all this trouble for that? Why can't they just have the five people they actually like there and be done with it?"

"Maybe they actually like all these people?"

Tonks laughed. "Okay, Harry," she said. "Do you know five-hundred people you could imagine liking enough to attend the 'happiest' day of your life?" She shook her head, her purple hair swishing around as she did. "Not even the happiest; just the better-than-average-ist day of your life. Do you?"

"Not five-hundred, no."

"And need I remind you that you're the most famous person in our part of the country," Tonks whispered.

"It's not a big part of the country," Harry said. "And I don't like people."

Well, he was indifferent, generally, to the idea of them. His true distaste came from conversing with them. A distaste he was made most aware of then as the first of the guests walked through the doors.

"But still, it's far less than five-hundred, right?" Tonks asked, her wand covertly dispelling the muffling charm. Harry nodded. "And it's not like they're being strong-armed into having this number of people. It's not like a Celtic ritual, where you must have thirty people or everyone explodes. They wrote the guest list, and they apparently didn't stop writing names until they got to five-fucking-hundred."

"They are strong-armed though, aren't they?" Harry said, his voice softer as the guests arrived and breathless as Tonks' touch still did not leave him. "They have the full weight of their society and peers pushing them to do exactly as they did. It's difficult to fight against that."

"And yet no one decides to divert themselves off of the mainest of main streams?" Tonks asked, her voice far louder than his. "No one dares to be different?"

"Well, I bet they do," Harry offered. "It's just you're not invited. The real question is; why do you find yourself at all of these weddings that you philosophically disagree with?"

"Because I have a lot of basic friends," Tonks said, grinning at him. "A shame really that I'm just so much cooler than everyone else."

"Charlie's way cooler than you. He tames dragons for a living and you're here."

Tonks groaned. "Okay, other than Charlie."

"Bill and Fleur are cooler than you too," said Harry. "Curse-breaking is just way cooler than what we do."

"It doesn't sound that interesting, honestly," said Tonks. "By the sounds of it, they do nothing most of the time. It's only occasionally that they fight the disembodied spirit of a Sumerian God-King."

"Oh, if it's only the odd occasion they do that, then you're right." Harry rolled his eyes. "Actually, you know who else is cooler than you?"

Tonks groaned again. "Who?"

"Me," Harry said. Around them, the tables filled yet still not theirs. "I'm the Master of Death. That makes me cooler than literally nearly everyone. I don't see you with a title that cool."

"And what exactly do you do with that title?" Tonks asked, her leg still playing against his, maddeningly so.

"Nothing," said Harry, yet again attempting to pull his leg from hers and yet again failing. "It's a really chill position, which is even cooler. Five centuries worth of dark wizards and witches want what I've got, and what am I doing with it? Just hanging out."

Tonks rested her hand on his arm, her knee sliding up his leg until it met his thigh. The satisfaction his mind had mounted in their debate was torn away by her in an instant.

"There's a small hole in your point, baby," she said, leaning off her chair to press her side against his. "And it's that you can't even look at me now, even though you so want to." She kissed his cheek. "Cool people do what they want."

Harry's hand tensed beneath the tablecloths. "And what do you want?" he asked. "As you're so cool."

Her lips passed over his cheek and to his ear.

"You," she whispered, only to fall away, back to her own chair which was a horribly respectable distance from him. "But according to you, I'm not cool, so I guess I'll just have to miss out."

For a moment, Harry's mind held a number of thoughts, none of them helpful. He liked all of them far, far too much. More than his mind could even pretend to care about the preservation of their friendship, to his own dismay.

Tonks' smug grin did not help, nor did her calf still sliding against his.

"I thought we agreed that teasing was impolite," said Harry.

"I thought we agreed that I didn't care," said Tonks, her finger tracing the rim of her champagne flute. "Anyway, it's time to work."

Harry sorely wished they weren't working. That champagne was painfully enticing.