Hello all. Sorry for the very long lapse in publishing. I've been out of town several times over the last three or four weeks, with yet another trip this weekend. (Praises, as this will be the last one for a while). This means I'll have time to write.

This was going to be a longer chapter, as I'd hoped to get into another escape sequence that deviates a bit from the original DH storyline. Unfortunately, this would be a very large chapter and while I know several of you don't mind chapter length, it simply didn't feel like one conclusive chapter. Incidentally, the logical break for me appeared to also be the logical break for Rowling, so I guess I should trust the muse in this instance and will simply have to ask your forgiveness for asking you to wait once more for the next chapter. I will try, (but not promise) to have the next chapter up before I go on my next trip.

Shout out to Gandalf's Beard for being the soundboard I needed for fleshing out the last bit of story plot I had planned for this endeavor.

As usual, none of this is mine. But I will at least claim that Harry and Hermione's romance in this particular story-well that's not mine either, regrettably. I can still pretend and that's enough for now.

Cheers and thanks for all your patience and encouraging reviews.

Chapter 12: Dancing with Barney

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were not given much opportunity to talk about Dumbledore's strange gifts as they had been herded from Harry's birthday lunch to final wedding preparations. As soon as they'd dressed, (and only after Harry consumed a dose of Polyjuice Potion) Harry and Ron were quickly ushered to join Fred and George outside the tent in the orchard, awaiting the arrival of family and guests. Though Harry had considered the Weasley's family, he was unsure how he felt to look like one of them, even if the hair had been acquired from a similarly looking Weasley-look-a-like Muggle boy in Ottery St. Catchpole. More difficult to come to terms however, was his new name: "Cousin Barney."

Evening approached quickly as they four men seated guest after guest to Molly's very specific seating chart. Harry had hardly the time to marvel at the now transformed Weasley fields. Beneath the marquee were row upon row of golden chairs divided into two by the long purple carpet which Fleur would soon march down to meet her future husband. A golden jacketed band made their final adjustments to their stage setup while the numerous wine glasses filled themselves in preparation.

"Too much fanfare," said Fred, seating the last guest and tugging heavily at the collar of his dress robes. "When I get married, you can all wear whatever you like. Mum won't be able to fuss because Georgie here will put her under a Body Bind Curse until it's official."

"Oh, it wasn't too bad, Fred," said George. "She only cried about Percy -the-Git not being here, but really, no one's missing him."

"Indeed," said Fred. "We'll I suppose we'd best find our places before we get trampled by the bridal party—"

"Or the bride," added George. Both nodded in sync and made their way where Bill and the rest of groomsmen awaited. Ron too followed after a quick parting word. This left Harry temporarily alone, so he went to find Hermione, knowing like him, she was not part of the wedding party.

"Hello, Barney," said Hermione with a smile. She was wearing a brilliant sky-blue dress that hovered just above her knees and her hair was tied back in similar fashion as she had during the Yule Ball. Harry smiled in response.

"Shall we find our seats," she asked.

"As George just pointed out a moment ago, I'd rather not be at the receiving end of an upset bride for being out of place."

"More like two upset Mother-in-Law's."

"Agreed." Harry and Hermione took their reserved seats in the second row on the groom side of the aisle.

"So when should we tell them," asked Harry quietly.

"I think during the reception would be best," replied Hermione immediately. "Less chance of being overheard through the music and the guests will all be mingling together in conversation."

"It's settled then," said Harry, more to himself than Hermione, but she had heard.

"Yes, Harry, it is." She gave him an encouraging smile and gently squeezed his hand.

"You know, you can still back out," said Harry in a not-too-serious tone, but hopeful all the same.

"You won't get rid of me that easily."

"And I'll never be grateful enough, Hermione," said Harry in earnest. "But I still think you're crazy to willingly go with me."

"Life is never dull with you around."

"Or safe," countered Harry. He had intended this remark to be in humor, but the tone of his voice betrayed his still deep-rooted belief that he was at fault for the danger of his friends.

"I wouldn't feel safe anywhere else," said Hermione with a quick reach to his hand. This lightened Harry's mood as quickly as it had darkened.

"What sort of music do you reckon the band will play?"

"Well, I've never attended a wizarding wedding before, but I'd imagine it's similar to a Muggle wedding," began Hermione. "There will be the first dance for the newlyweds, followed by a paired dance between the groom and his new mother-in-law and the bride with her new father-in-law. Then they'll open the dance floor and it's a bit of wildcard from there. The music could be anything. Why do you ask, Harry? I don't remember you being all that interested in this sort of thing." Here, Harry had a brilliant moment of inspiration. He gave her a mischievous smile.

"No particular reason, just curious."

"I'm sure Ginny would like to dance with you before you leave."

"I'm sure she would," answered Harry. "But I don't think it's wise."

"Your loss, Harry."

"What about Ron?"

"You want to dance with Ron," giggled Hermione. "I didn't think you'd lean that way, Harry. Then again, you did save him from the depths of the Black Lake."

"You're ridiculous," retorted Harry. "I meant you and Ron."

"Oh," said Hermione, her smile gone almost instantly. "I don't think he's into that sort of thing either. And like I said already, there's nothing of the sort going on between us. I'm just as content to not dance at all."

"But you'd like too."

"Of course I would; I'm a girl, Harry, at a wedding."

"Well seeing as this is likely the last time we're going to be as care free as we can for some time and Ron being otherwise occupied, maybe I can make amends for a previous wrong," said Harry turning serious, but still with a slight smile. "I know I'm "Cousin Barney" and won't exactly be Harry Potter you're dancing with, but would you like to dance with me tonight, Hermione?"

"You want to dance with me?"

"I want to correct a previous error of judgement," said Harry sincerely. "I'll understand though, if you'd rather not…"

"I'd love too, Barney," said Hermione. Then she leaned in close and whispered in his ear. "I'll know I'm dancing with you and that's enough. Thank you." They shared another smile as Bill entered the marquee followed by Charlie, Fred, George, and Ron. Fred and George failed miserably in discretely making an inappropriate gesture to Bill as Mrs. Weasley quickly responded by casting a binding spell to keep their hands at their sides, causing scattered laughter throughout the audience.

But the laughing did not last as music began to build and swell, filling the tent in a gradual crescendo of moving sound. Moments later there were a series of "ohs" and "ahs" from the back of the tent as row upon row rose to stand.

"Here she comes, Barney, you need to stand," said Hermione excitedly and pulling him up. Monsieur Delacour and Fleur strode down the aisle at a gentle pace. Harry had never had any difficulty with the Veela appeal, but even he had to admit Fleur was radiant as she walked down the aisle. She wore a simple white dress which under the lights of the tent appeared to shimmer in a silvery glow.

At the platform, Bill stepped forward to receive Fleur from her father, his face radiating with the same glow as Fleur. Stepping up to the platform to meet the soon-to-be-wed couple was the same tufty-haired wizard who had presided at Dumbledore's funeral.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we are gathered here today to celebrate the union of the two faithful souls before us…"

In the front row, both Mrs. Weasley and Madame Delacour were sobbing quietly into their rather fanciful tissues while a trumpet-like sound blew from the back, the guests keenly aware that Hagrid had taken use to one of his own tablecloth-sized handkerchiefs. Hermione turned to Harry; her eyes too were full of glistening tears but Harry mostly noticed her beaming smile. For the second time in his life, the stray thought entered his brain. Merlin, she's beautiful when she cries. Harry shook the thought from his head and turned his attention back to the podium.

"Do you, William Arthur Weasley, take Fleur Isabelle Delacour to be your wife," continued the minister looking to Bill.

"I do," said Bill, his smile growing ever wider. The minister nodded and turned to Fleur.

"And do you, Fleur, Isabelle, Delacour, take William Arthur Weasley to be your Husband?"

"I do," said Fleur in the loudest, clearest, most confident English she'd ever uttered.

"Hermione, you're squeezing too hard," said Harry, nodding to his hand. Hermione quickly released her grip on him with a quick apologetic glance before returning her gaze back to the front.

"…then I declare you husband and wife, bonded in this life and the next." The minister waved his hand high over the heads of the newlyweds and shower of silver stars fell upon them, spiraling around their new entwined figures as they sealed their union with a deep kiss. Fred and George both whistled while Ron and Charlie clapped enthusiastically. Several of the guests cheered. The minister then held up his hands in a clear request for quiet.

"Ladies and gentlemen, if you would please stand up!"

They did so as the minister waved his wand once more and the seats on which they had been sitting rose gracefully into the air as the canvas walls of the marquee vanished, revealing the Weasley fields outside. They were rewarded with a brilliant gold spread of the setting sun. Another wave of the ministers wand beckoned forth a brilliant gold dance floor as the seats arranged themselves into small clusters around conjured tables while leaving most of the dance floor open.

"Finally, at the request of our newlyweds, please enjoy yourselves to the refreshments and good company."

"Let's grab seats, come on," said Hermione once more grabbing his hand and pulling him through the dispersing crowd. They quickly spotted Luna and a much older man with long, straight white hair dressed in a colorful yet very peculiar yellow robes. Harry presumed this must be Luna's father.

"All right if we join you, Luna," asked Hermione.

"Oh yes," she replied happily. "Daddy's just on his way to give Bill and Fleur our present. I hope they like it." She then turned to Harry with a lopsided stare. Then her eyes widened.

"I didn't realize it was you, Harry," she said brightly.

"How did you know," asked Hermione in a whisper.

"It's easy," said Luna. "It's his eyes. No one else has such intensity in their eyes like Harry, wouldn't you agree, Hermione?"

Hermione struggled to control the blush now glowing on her cheeks. Harry had to chuckle; it was simply Luna's way to be completely oblivious to social norms and speak from her unique perspective.

"Also considering how close in proximity you've been all evening, I think it's rather clear it couldn't be anyone else."

"Ravenclaw without a doubt," said Harry.

"Luna, if you would, it's really important that nobody else knows..."

"Don't worry, Hermione; you're secret is safe with me."

"Thank you," said Harry. Shortly after taking seats, Luna's father returned with drinks, having seen two additional guests at their table.

"Father, this is Hermione Granger, and this is…"

"Barney Weasley," said Harry quickly, extending his hand. "Glad to meet you. Luna's a good friend."

"Yes, she is a special child," said Mr. Lovegood. "The name is Xenophilius, editor to the Quibbler."

"It's a wonderful paper," said Harry. He had never forgotten the man's favor in publishing his exclusive interview.

"Appreciated," said Xenophilius. "I do hope you'll forgive me, Miss Granger, but I was expecting to see Harry Potter here. I wished to tell him he has the Quibbler's full support."

"He couldn't be here tonight, for security reasons and everything," said Hermione quickly. "But I'll make sure it gets back to him."

"Of course," said Xenophilius, nodding curtly. "We'll I'll leave you to mingle as I'm sure you'd rather associate with your peers of age rather than an old eccentric like myself. Luna, watch out for Nargles; they are out in droves tonight."

"Yes, daddy."

"Luna, what was the necklace your father was wearing," asked Hermione.

"Oh, you'd best ask him, he's rather fascinated by the whole thing."

"Why do you want to know, Hermione," asked Harry.

"I'm not sure where, but I've seen that image before. An equilateral triangle divided into two halves down the middle with a circle inside the triangle. It's a symbol; I just don't remember what it represents."

"I'm sure you'll get a chance to ask him."

The band had now taken stage and began to play a soft slow tune to which Fleur and Bill dance in the center of the tent, their audience quite numerous. True to Hermione's prediction, a similar song followed in which Bill lead Madame Delacour around the dance floor followed in almost perfect form by Arthur and Fleur. When the song had ended the guests gave them a round of applause. The dance floor was then opened to all as the band began a waltz.

"Shall we," asked Harry, his hand outstretched to Hermione.

"I'm rather looking forward to this, Mr. Potter," said Hermione quietly, careful not be overhead by anyone other than Luna. Harry smiled and led her to the dance floor.

"I'll warn you now, I'm absolute rubbish at this," said Harry. Surprisingly he felt quite comfortable taking Hermione's right hand into his left while she rested her free hand on his shoulder and Harry took her waist with his right.

"I'll help you," said Hermione. "Just try to be mindful of my feet and listen to the music."

"You're good at everything you do, Hermione," said Harry, following her lead.

"Nearly," said Hermione with a smile. "I still have a few things to learn."

"Then I still have volumes to learn," said Harry, somewhat in jest but mostly speaking true.

"That's it," encouraged Hermione as she disregarded his last statement with a laugh. They swayed and stepped to the three-count pulse.

"You're better than I remember at the Yule Ball."

"And just how is it you know that," asked Harry surprised. After all, that was the point of tonight, to make amends for a dance that never happened.

"Oh, I watched you from time to time," said Hermione without hesitation.

"I didn't think you'd have time to watch me, with Victor being so close in proximity to you," said Harry. "I think more people were watching the two of you dance than anyone else."

"I never noticed," said Hermione honestly. "I kept stealing glances at you because I was worried about you. In hindsight, I should have just asked you to take me to the ball. Then I could have looked after you better."

"I don't know what I'd do without you, Hermione."

"You said it yourself," said Hermione. "You'd have been killed, or worse, expelled." The two broke into earnest smiles as they continued the dance without any further words passing between them. Hermione rested her head slightly on his shoulder as Harry's confidence grew and began to lead without Hermione's assistance.

Despite the surprised comfort Harry found with such closeness to Hermione, a small internal struggle was forming between some unknown origin in his chest and his brain. He shouldn't feel this comfortable but he did. In all his life, he'd never felt anything quite like Hermione's embrace. It was comforting, as her hugs had always been. That wasn't it. He was at ease. That made enough logical sense—she was his best friend. No, that wasn't it. What felt out of place, (and yet felt incredibly right) was the sense of belonging he felt. No one had ever made him feel like that. Ginny was always a rush of emotions, feelings he really didn't understand, feelings, he mentally told himself, had passed. No, Hermione's embrace, casual in nature but felt welcoming and inviting. Before Harry could begin to berate himself for such feelings, Hermione interrupted his thoughts.

"I never got to ask you if you read Dumbledore's tribute in the Prophet."

"Several times," said Harry. "I never knew he had a sister. He only mentioned his brother in passing I don't even recall the details. It just reminded me that I never really bothered to ask him about his own life. He fought a dark wizard, Hermione, and defeated him; someone who was just as like-minded as Voldemort. I could have asked him so many things."

"You're not being fair to yourself, Harry. Most of your time spent with him was always after some terrible near-death experience."

"Maybe," said Harry unconvinced. "But I'll never know now."

"Did you also see that Rita is writing a book about him?"

"Yes," said Harry with a bit of venom. "I don't believe a word of it. She's proven she'll write anything to sell a book." Hermione smiled. Once more they fell into silence and swayed to the last beats of the song.

"Come on, let's grab Ron and go talk to Molly and Arthur," said Hermione, breaking away from Harry's embrace but not without another full smile. She then leaned in as had become habit now and whispered, "thank you, Harry. That was the best dance I've had yet. Maybe you've got one more left before the night expires?" Harry gave her an agreeable nod and together they excused themselves from the dance floor in search of Ron. The search did not take long as they quickly found Ron at the drinks table where he, Fred, and George were deep in discussion about the future of the joke shop.

"Sorry to interrupt, boys, but Harry and I need to steal Ron away for a moment."

"Another adventure, then, is it," asked Fred, his expression turning from blissful mirth to somber in a flash. Harry had never been able to put a finger on it, but the twins had always been among the most perceptive people he'd ever met.

"Unfortunately, yes," said Harry. The twins nodded but not before taking a moment to shake his hand in turn. Then, they did something completely un-twin like. They both hugged Hermione in full Weasley embrace.

"Be careful, you three," said George. "And let us know if you need anything—we'll drop everything at the moment's notice."

"We know Hermione's the brains of this operation," continued Fred, "so make sure and keep her safe because you're lives will undoubtedly depend on it."

"Scarily accurate, but true," acknowledged Ron.

"Well, best we leave them to it, Fred," said George. "Remember to say mischief managed when you mess up old Voldy-short's plans."

"We will," said Harry, breaking into earnest smile. Another trait he admired greatly in the twins; they could make any serious situation tolerable with a laugh.

They found Molly and Arthur at their own table, both appearing exhausted but quite content with the world.

"Hello, dears," said Molly. "Please, sit down." The three of them did as asked.

"Can I get you drinks," asked Arthur, his eyes lighting up slightly, giving Harry the impression he knew this would be serious conversation. They nodded in turn and Arthur gave a quick swish of his wand and three glasses of wine appeared before them.

"Am I right to presume this won't be a bit of friendly small talk?"

"Yes, Arthur, I'm afraid you're right," said Harry. "We're—that is Ron, Hermione, and I—we'll, we're planning to leave tomorrow, early before sun rise, to do what Dumbledore's left us to do. We didn't want to leave without letting you know."

Molly and Arthur shared a deeply worrying look, but Molly answered first.

"I don't like it," said Molly. "It doesn't seem fair that Dumbledore would give such a responsibility to you three—you're still children in my eyes." Tears began to form in her eyes but she kept them steadily at bay. "But Arthur helped me to understand that at least you, Harry, don't appear to have much choice and that if you did, you'd still be off anyway. Of course, wherever you go, these two will follow. I've been reminded that you're no longer children, but you'll always be my children who I want to protect. You three have faced so much and I hate knowing you're willingly going out there. Please be safe, take care of one another and let us know you're okay when you can."

"We'll do our best, Molly," said Hermione.

"Also, it would be best if no one else knows we're leaving until we're gone," said Harry.

"We won't say anything," said Arthur. "Molly said it best; look after one another and let us know when you can that you're safe. Just know that we and the Order are ready if you need anything."

"We will," said Harry truthfully. Inside he knew that inevitably, their mission would not always be theirs alone. Harry smiled to himself internally; just as Dumbledore had helped him to realize he had a choice in his destiny, Hermione had helped him see that while he may carry the weight of a final confrontation with Voldemort, they were all in the war together, as equals.

"Another dance, Barney," asked Hermione, visibly feeling the relief of telling the Weasley's their plan. Harry nodded and once more led Hermione to the dance floor for another waltz. Once more Harry found himself in the very natural and comforting embrace of Hermione. Looking over her shoulder he had a perfect view of the stone-craft broom closet where He and Dumbledore shared the first of several, more intimate moments. Harry smiled as he easily maneuvered Hermione into a position where she too could see the broom closet.

"That's where he said it," said Harry.

"Who said what?"

"Dumbledore," continued Harry. "The night we went to convince Slughorn to come out of retirement, the same night I told you and Ron about the prophecy. That's when he told me that I needed you—and Ron. He said I did you a disservice by not confiding in you. He knew, Hermione. He knew I couldn't do this alone." He could feel his eyes begin to burn. Normally Harry would be quick to wipe his eyes and battle as he'd done all his life the emotions that he'd been taught were associated with weakness. But in Hermione's presence he felt no such compulsion. He did not cry, but a few tears leaked past his eyes lids. Hermione quickly wiped the tear streaks on his cheeks.

"Dumbledore said you greatest strength was love," said Hermione after a moment, sensitive to Harry's need for release. "Don't ever doubt that we love you Harry. And when we're you're at the end of all things, don't ever doubt that I'll be there with you." An unfamiliar emotion swept over Harry as he rested his head on her shoulder this time. Once more he could feel the weight of the world slipping from his shoulders. His only fear being how much of the burden had now fallen on his best friend. Just as he was about to say something to that effect when a large silver mist descended from the top of the marquee and finding rest as it hovered a few feet from the dance floor not far from them. A few seconds slid by as the silvery mist formed into a proud lynx. The tent's guests quickly faded into the silence as the Patronus's mouth opened wide and spoke in the loud, deep voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"The Minister of Magic is dead. The Ministry has fallen. They are coming…they are coming…