Author's Notes: Huge thanks go to GraceHasVictory for the beta. Without her, this would be full of Americanisms and the wedding scene would be completely flat, among other errors. The remaining flaws are all mine. The characters are JKR's, of course. Couquillage has been beyond supportive and kind, as have many other flisters, and I'm so grateful to them.

This story is dedicated to Divine Mums everywhere - because they know.

Like Invisible Strings

In a small, upstairs bedroom at Number 4, Privet Drive, a skinny, black-haired teenage boy lay reading on the narrow bed, a normal enough event on a hot summer's night. The boy and his book, however, were anything but normal. The book, Jinxes and Hexes and Curses, Oh My, was dedicated to describing how to defend oneself again the nastiest of curses, spells and jinxes, while the boy was Harry Potter, both famed and feared in the wizarding world to which he belonged. Harry was enduring yet another stay with his dreadful Muggle relatives and the reading helped to pass the time, as well as make him feel that he was preparing for his future.

Harry's three weeks of summer holiday thus far had transpired in a similar fashion. Reading, learning and preparing for the day he would have to face off against the most-feared wizard of his time, Lord Voldemort, as was prophesied, gave him at least the illusion that he wasn't doomed to fail. It also kept him from dwelling on the events of his last year at Hogwarts, the wizarding school he attended, and the death of his godfather, Sirius Black. Harry had made mistakes last year, they all had, and Sirius has paid the ultimate price. He was determined not to let anything like that happen again.

His solitude was interrupted only by meals and the arrival of one or two owls a day, from various members of the Order of the Phoenix, a group dedicated to fighting Voldemort, and his best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. He hadn't yet told them about the prophecy and wasn't sure he would ever be able to do so. They would be horrified at the thought that Harry had to kill Voldemort before Voldemort killed him. Harry was rather horrified at the thought himself.

Harry's routine from summers past of chores from his Aunt Petunia, taunting from his cousin, Dudley Dursley, and bombastic threats from his Uncle Vernon had abruptly changed this year after various member of the Order, including Ron's dad, had informed Vernon Dursley that they were going to be keeping a close eye on the events at Privet Drive this summer. Uncle Vernon had blustered and raged, but the warning had done the trick.

The Dursleys could barely bring themselves to look at Harry, fearful, perhaps, that their long-held distaste for his company would burst out and a hoard of angry witches and wizards would descend upon them, all determined to turn them into toads or mushrooms or whatever the Dursleys thought wizards turned you into for revenge. Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia managed to ask Harry hesitantly once a day if there were anything he needed. Harry enjoyed the spectacle of the Dursleys forcing themselves to care for him properly and occasionally amused himself by drawing up in his head a long list of expensive clothes and video games he really needed.

As Harry started the chapter on creative ways to disarm your opponent, the quiet was broken by the arrival of Ron's small, barely trained owl. Pig whizzed into the room through his open window, bounced off the bookshelves, knocking Harry's Potions textbook into his scales and sending them both flying onto the floor, before crashing into Hedwig's cage. Hedwig hooted loudly in indignation, while Pig took off in the opposite direction, slamming into the mirror and knocking it askew before Harry caught him. Downstairs, Uncle Vernon's easy chair creaked twice, as though he had risen and then sat back down, visions of Aunt Petunia magically turned into a flowerpot making him think twice about berating Harry for the noise. Harry finally caught hold of Pig and after removing the scroll tied to his leg, read the note.

Harry,

You'll never believe it. Bill's getting married – to Fleur Delacour, no less. Mum's going spare trying to plan things. The wedding's next week and you're coming, of course. Mum threatened to pull out of the Order if Dumbledore didn't let you stay for the rest of the summer, so pack your bags, mate! We'll be there tomorrow night.

Ron

Harry didn't know why he was so surprised by this news. He remembered Fleur Delacour as beautiful and Bill, after all, was probably older than Harry's own parents when they were married. Anyway, it was none of his business; what really mattered was leaving Privet Drive. He crumpled the letter and flung it into the trash, feeling unaccountably annoyed.

The next day passed more quickly for Harry than any other of his summer. He waited until he had finished packing before he told the Dursleys he was leaving, as he had had no desire to make their day any pleasanter. After one last tense supper, Harry cleared his place and said "I'm leaving tonight."

"Oh, erm…well, okay then," stuttered Uncle Vernon. "How are they getting you out of here?" he said, then quickly added, "Not that it matters, of course, just wanted to know, er, did you need a ride?"

"I don't know how I'm going, but I'm sure it will be by magic" Harry said matter‑of-factly, enjoying the sight of Aunt Petunia with a sickly, false smile plastered to her face. "Thanks, anyway," he added casually, as though nothing unusual were being said. Grinning madly, he started down the hallway, towards the staircase, when suddenly there was a loud crack and Charlie Weasley Apparated right in front of him.

"Gosh, Charlie, give me a heart attack, why don't you?" Harry exclaimed, smiling nonetheless. It was so good to see a friendly face.

"Sorry about that, Harry, but we've no time to waste," Charlie said, shaking Harry's hand. "There's a Portkey to get us to the Burrow, but we really need to hurry. Are you packed?"

"All set," said Harry, heading up the stairs. He caught a glimpse of Dursleys, sitting at the table, trying to ignore Charlie and his unconventional arrival. "How did you manage a Portkey? Is the Ministry cooperating for a change?"

"Fudge is up for recall." Charlie had a grin in his voice. "He'll lose, of course, but in the meantime he can't do enough for the Order. We could have had an armed guard, but Dumbledore wants you out quickly and quietly."

Harry and Charlie reached his room. Harry's things were piled up in the center of the room. "I've sent Hedwig to the Burrow already, so it's just my trunk and her cage," Harry explained. As Harry and Charlie each took one end of the trunk, Charlie quickly cast a spell to bind Hedwig's cage to it. He pulled a long candlestick holder from inside his cloak. "Right, Harry, take one end. Good, three, two, one, we're off."

Harry felt the familiar jerk in his stomach as the Portkey activated. The rushing, swirling sensation only lasted a minute, but it was quite long enough for him to feel nauseous and disoriented before he landed, hard, and fell onto the floor in Ron's bedroom.

Ron pulled Harry to his feet, greeting him enthusiastically. "Harry, you don't know how glad I am to see you! It's a right madhouse around here. Bill's crazy in love." Ron rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Mum's wild because they're getting married here and she wants everything perfect. Hermione and Ginny have gone nutters, well, more nutters than they usually are. They're fussing around about the flowers, and the wedding dress and what they're going to wear, as though that matters."

Charlie laughed as he left the room. "Get used to it, Ron. Just imagine how much worse it will be when they have a baby." Ron groaned, but Harry couldn't join in the good will.

"Hermione's here already?" Harry cringed at his own tone of voice.

"She's been here, mate. Why do you think I'm so glad to see you? Not only is all my homework done, but I've seriously been considering picketing for house-elf rights. I need a break."

Despite Ron's joke, Harry's familiar anger and jealousy didn't abate. It didn't matter that the Dursleys had been more bearable this summer, he would much rather have been at the Burrow with Ron and Hermione. Even wedding planning and homework were better than the long hours he had spent alone in his room. Harry was sure, too, that they had managed to have quite a bit of fun together, despite Ron's reluctance to admit it.

Ron must have sensed how he was feeling because he continued in a flat tone, "She went home for a bit, but she still has to take all these potions for that curse Dolohov threw at her." Ron's expression was briefly furious and somehow adult. "Her parents were becoming a bit nervous about how badly she was wounded and started making noises about pulling her out of Hogwarts, so she came here."

Harry felt put out with himself this time to forgetting how seriously his friends had been injured at the Ministry of Magic battle before he was struck by a thought. "You mean Hermione's run away from home?" Harry asked.

"I suppose she did!" Ron answered, before they both burst into raucous laughter and the tension broke.

As they headed down to find the girls, Harry and Ron ran into Mrs. Weasley in the hallway. As Ron had said, she looked more distracted than Harry had ever seen her. She gave him a brief, fierce hug of welcome. "Harry, I'm so glad you arrived safely. The girls are in the kitchen. Make sure you boys have your dress robes ready for next week. I need at least one thing settled and I want you both looking your best." She wandered off, muttering something about the difficulty of finding delphiniums at this time of year. Harry and Ron glanced at each other and shrugged before heading into the kitchen.

This year Harry was a little more prepared for Hermione's enthusiastic hug and managed to stay on his feet, keep his breath and even hug her back. Ginny was at the counter, her hands covered in flour, but she waved jauntily and was able to squeeze in a hurried, "Hi Harry" before Hermione burst out speaking.

"Oh, Harry, I'm so glad to see you. We've missed you so much. How were things? Were the Dursleys simply awful? Oh, of course they were, what am I saying? You must be hungry, here, have some stew, Ron's mum made it, it's quite good." The words rushed out of Hermione in one breath as she bustled around the kitchen, filling a bowl with steaming hot stew. She reminded Harry so much of Mrs. Weasley at that moment that he couldn't help but laugh.

She looked at him with a slightly puzzled expression on her face.

"I'm glad to see you and Ginny too, Hermione." Harry wondered if he should say anything about her injuries or her parents, but didn't know how to start.

Ron cleared his throat a little nervously before saying, "I told Harry why you're here."

Hermione whirled on him, almost dropping the bowl of stew. She set it on the table and glared at Ron. "You know I didn't want Harry to worry about that. It's bad enough having you fussing over me all the time."

Ron's ears were pink, but he answered her easily enough. "He should know what's going on, Hermione."

Harry jumped in before they could start seriously sniping at each other. "I'm glad Ron told me, Hermione. Erm…how are you, uh, feeling? Are you, erm, upset about your parents?"

There was a glint of amusement in Hermione's eyes, although she didn't mention Harry's obvious discomfort with discussing her feelings. "I'm much better now, thank you. And my parents will come around. Mrs. Weasley's been owling them since I arrived."

"Yeah, and if they don't," added Ginny, "she'll live here for good. Professor Lupin said he would pay her school fees, so that's okay."

"Lupin?" Harry exclaimed. "But how? I mean…" he trailed off. Professor Lupin had always been quite poor, but then, so had the Weasleys, and he didn't quite want to bring it up.

There was a quick, tense stillness in the kitchen. Ron and Hermione glanced at each other quickly before Hermione bit her lip and Ron stared determinedly into the fireplace. Ginny finally answered him, a little quietly. "Sirius left him pots of money, Harry."

At the mention of his godfather, Harry's heart clenched. He looked down at his shoes, embarrassed to choke up in front of his friends.

"Not that you could tell by looking at him," Ginny went on, her tone lighter, "He still wears shabby robes and needs a good haircut."

"Says he can't think of a better use for part of the Black family fortune that paying Hermione's school fees," Ron added.

"He thinking of starting a scholarship fund for Muggle-born witches and wizards, which I must say, I think is a good idea. After all, not all Muggle parents are as understanding as mine are, well, used to be." Hermione, too, suddenly looked sad.

Harry could not help himself. He thought of telling Mrs. Black's portrait that a werewolf had her money and was planning to put it to use educating "mudbloods", as the pureblood snobs so charmingly called witches and wizards of Muggle parentage. Laughter broke out of him. The other joined in and the kitchen rang with the sounds of four teenagers, happy to be together again.

The week before the wedding passed pleasantly enough. Ron and Harry stayed out of the way of the wedding plans as much as possible, although Hermione and Ginny seemed to enjoy the endless discussion about the food, the size of the outdoor dance floor, the dresses and what on earth they were going to do if it rained. Hermione did make one trip to St. Mungo's. Ron went with her, but Harry stayed at the Burrow, playing chess with Ginny. Ginny must have sensed that he felt a little guilty about not accompanying them, but he brushed off her questions about his mood. Luckily, Ginny accepted this, although her sympathetic expression made him feel even guiltier.

When Hermione returned, she announced gleefully that she had been fully released from care and wouldn't be needing any more horrid-tasting potions. Harry was glad for her, but couldn't help but think that her good health wasn't guaranteed, quite the opposite in fact. With the prophecy making him Voldemort's target, they were all in danger. Harry thought again that he should tell his friends what he was up against, but couldn't bring himself to speak the words. Busy as she was, that night Mrs. Weasley managed a delicious cake to celebrate Hermione's full recovery, but Harry couldn't manage even a slice. Since Ron ate three pieces in quick succession, no one seemed to notice. As he listened to Ron's snores from the next bed that night, he found himself wondering why no one seemed to understand. Even without knowing about the prophecy, how could the Weasleys be celebrating anything? Was he the only one who doubted that Voldemort would let them live long enough for the future they were so happily planning? He drifted off to uneasy sleep, filled with dreams of his parents, Sirius battling Ballatrix in the Ministry; Voldemort's eerie laugh echoing in his head.

The morning of the wedding dawned bright and clear, to everyone's relief. The bride arrived, but was hustled upstairs by Mrs. Weasley almost immediately. As Harry and Ron were dressing, Harry found himself wondering why Fleur was all alone. He knew she had at least a little sister, since he had rescued Gabrielle from the lake in the Triwizard Tournament, unnecessarily as it turned out. He asked Ron about it.

"The Delacours are pureblood," Ron replied scathingly.

"So what? So are the Weasleys," Harry replied.

"Not like the Delacouers. They're purebloods the way the Malfoys are purebloods. Rich, snotty and none too happy about their precious Fleur marrying a ragtag Weasley, even if it is Bill."

The bitterness in Ron's voice made Harry think it was best to change the subject, which he did, asking Ron if he thought it was safe to go downstairs without being snagged by Mrs. Weasley to move "just one more thing."

Outside at last, Harry and Ron joined Hermione, who was looking quite pretty in lilac dress robes, with her hair done up as it had been at the Yule Ball. Looking around, Harry saw Tonks, today with confetti-colored hair, hanging onto Kingsley Shacklebolt's arm. Lupin was chatting with a young couple who apparently worked at Gringotts. Mad-Eye Moody suspiciously eyed a long-nosed goblin, who Ron whispered was Bill's boss, but Harry found he knew nearly everybody else. The party was small and very red-headed.

As best man, Charlie was in dark blue dress robes, which made quite a change from his usual dragon-taming gear, although Harry noticed the mark of a recent burn glistening on his cheek. Pretending to force a reluctant Bill through the gathered guests to a black-clad wizard was standing under a large willow tree earned Charlie a glare from Mrs. Weasley, but Bill was laughing and pushing back. Harry could almost see Sirius doing the same to his dad and wondered how his mum had really felt about the Mauraders' hijinks. He didn't even know if she liked Sirius, he thought bitterly.

The laughter stopped when Bill caught sight of Fleur, slipping out of the Weasley home, to take her place under the willow tree with him. She was as gorgeous as Harry remembered from the Yule Ball, although she looked older. Her ivory robes were simple and elegant and she wore a wreath of flowers in her hair. Ginny, dressed in a similar robe of light green, reached out her hands to Fleur, who took them with a smile before kissing Ginny on each cheek. It was nice of Ginny to stand as bridesmaid for Fleur, Harry thought. He wondered who had done that for his mother; certainly not his Aunt PetuniaWas his mother's bridesmaid still alive or had she, too, fallen to Voldemort and his Death Eaters? Harry wondered before shaking his head to chase these morbid thoughts away. What was wrong with him today?

Bill went to Fleur's side, taking her hands from his sister, with a kiss for Ginny, who looked suspiciously bright-eyed. The Minister joined them and spoke a few words to Fleur in French, causing her to smile and glance mischievously at Bill. Harry found himself unaccountably glad Fleur had at least one old friend here today. With a twist of his wand, the black-clad wizard muttered a spell and the branches of the willow trees were suddenly festooned with ivory bows and fairy lights. Hermione's breath caught and Harry saw Mrs. Weasley wipe her wyes and lay her head on Mr. Weasley's shoulder.

Harry found it hard to concentrate on the ceremony, perhaps because of the Minister's strong accent. It didn't help that Ron was very put out about something. He was scowling and looking at everyone but Hermione. Luckily, she was avidly watching the ceremony and didn't seem to notice his mood or Harry's. Unease was lurking at the bottom of Harry's mind. Bill and Fleur looked so young.

"… and please put your hands togezzer to welcome Monsieur and Madame William Weasley."

As the applause died away and the party began, Harry relaxed a little. The twins had set off a spectacular display of fireworks, including exploding golden wedding bells and a firework kissing couple. Even Mrs. Weasley laughed and looked proud of them. As a goblin trio of musicians began to play, the guests began dancing and chatting again. Harry noticed that even the garden gnomes were joining in under some unkempt bushes near the back fence.

Grabbing Butterbeers, Harry and Ron headed for one of the little tables that surrounded Mr. Weasley's Conjured dance floor. Hermione had disappeared. Placing the third Butterbeer on the table, Harry looked around, and soon spotted her on the dance-floor with Charlie. Swaying to the slow music, Charlie bent his down, grinning as he whispered a long stream of words in Hermione's ear. She burst out laughing, and looked around to glance at Ron. Evidently determined to cause Ron more embarrassment, Charlie began to talk again. From the way Hermione suppressed giggles and glanced around again, it was clear that she enjoyed this second story as much as the first.

All the blood seemed to drain from Ron's face and he looked terribly disappointed and angry, but all he said was, "Seen any good Quidditch games lately?"

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Harry demanded. "You've been acting like a prat all night. You practically glared a hole right through Hermione. What did she do?"

"She looks different," Ron muttered, embarrassed.

"You mean pretty?" Harry asked, which earned him his share of Ron's hole-burning glare.

"When she looks like this, she's not the same Hermione, you know, yours and mine. I hate that," Ron burst out. "Some stuck-up bloke is going to come along and she'll go off with him and where will I be ­- I mean, where we will be?" Ron was bright red again and looking at sky overhead, as though he and Harry were having a conversation about their last Astronomy lesson rather than his crush on Hermione.

Harry had no idea what to say to this. "This is ridiculous." he thought to himself. He and Ron had been best friends for five years; he would think they could talk about girls without embarrassment. They had faced death together, although that was frankly preferable to having this conversation.

"You know, Ron," Harry said to the floral centerpiece on the table, "you're right. I think if we want to keep Hermione, one of us should go out with her."

"I reckon that's a good idea," Ron told the chair on his left. "That would solve the problem. Do you, er, want to do it?"

"No, I think you should." Harry's voice was firm and he was very proud of himself for not laughing at this foolish conversation. "My luck with girls has been pretty awful so far."

"Right, then," Ron said casually. "That's settled. Want another Butterbeer?"

Just then, Charlie deposited a breathless and smiling Hermione at their table. He winked at Ron and said, "Your turn, Ron, before it's too late."

"I'm not dancing with my broth…" Ron said indignantly, before his voice trailed off as he realized his mistake. The noise of the party seemed to fade into the background, so awkward was the sudden silence that descended on the trio. Hermione was blushing and looking everywhere but at Ron and Harry. For his part, Ron was swallowing hard and turning green around the edges, although his ears were bright red.

Harry was about to ask Hermione to dance himself, just to put them out of their misery, when he saw Ron rise, hold out his hand and say, "Dance, Hermione?" without a quaver in his voice. With a sudden smile of pleasure, Hermione nodded and took Ron's hand, following him out into the center of the garden, although she still couldn't look at either of her best friends.

Harry stared at them for a few minutes, wondering what it was like for them right now. Were they nervous? Were they finally comfortable with each other? What the heck were they saying to each other? Embarrassed by his own curiosity, he glanced around at the crowd. Ginny was chatting with Tonks under the apple tree. He caught her eye and nodded towards the dance floor. When she saw Ron and Hermione dancing, Ginny's eyes widened slightly. She smiled back at Harry, before frowning suddenly and tilting her head towards Fred and George. Harry turned to look and saw that the twins were pointing towards the dance floor and snickering at Ron, who was dancing quite stiffly and awkwardly.

Ron must have seen them as well, because he suddenly stopped moving and dropped his hands from Hermione's waist. "Oh, no," muttered Harry under his breath. Ron looked down at Hermione and seemed to gather his courage once again. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close this time. Harry found himself openly gaping at them again to see what her reaction would be. Looking startled for a moment, she put her arms around his neck and laid her head on his shoulder. Ron bent his head to whisper in her ear. Hermione blushed again, hard, but lifted her head up just enough to nod and smile.

Harry let out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. Grinning, he looked over at Fred and George, who appeared impressed against their will. Harry watched the laughing, dancing couples and the happy guests again when suddenly his feeling of unease returned. Were they being watched? Was Voldemort here, waiting to attack? He turned around suddenly, staring at the tree lines surrounding the Burrow's back garden, and startled with a jump when he heard Mrs. Weasley's voice. "Having fun, Harry? Well, clearly, you're not. What's the problem?" she said as she joined him at the small table.

"I don't get it," he said quickly. "How can they be doing this now?"

Mrs. Weasley looked slightly confused, but waited for him to continue.

"I mean, getting married with Voldemort out there. He's after them, he's after all of us." Harry's voice was breaking, but he couldn't seem to stop himself. It was as if someone had spiked his Butterbeer with Veritaserum, he was saying things he didn't even realize he thought. "What if one of them dies? What about the one that's left behind? What if they have a baby?" Harry now desperately wanted to shut up, but couldn't. "And Ron and Hermione, I mean, it's great and all that, but why now? How can they…"

All of a sudden, Harry recalled he was talking to Ron's mum, worse, Bill's mum, and was finally able to stop talking.

He stole a quick glance at Mrs. Weasley and was surprised to see that she didn't look shocked or disapproving.

She patted Harry's hand, leaving hers on top of his. "Harry, dear," she started, her eyes bright, but her voice calm. "Almost everyone I love is at this wedding." She gave his hand a little squeeze and he felt the same pleasure he always did whenever Mrs. Weasley made it clear how much he meant to her. "And I may never see some of them again. I know that."

"But how do you, erm keep loving, uh, you know, people, when…" Harry stuttered, embarrassed to be discussing love, but desperately needing to know.

"How can I bear to love someone I might lose?" she asked. "How can I not, Harry? Who here should I choose not to love, just because they might die before me – Arthur? Ginny? You? I might as well join the Death-Eaters as live like that," she said simply.

Mr. Weasley approached them at that moment. Smiling, he said, "Stealing my best girl, Harry? I might have something to say about that," he added, with an almost wolfish grin at Mrs. Weasley. "Come on, my dear, and dance at your son's wedding."

Harry glanced around the room again, but everything looked somehow different to him. Mrs. Weasley loved him. She would love him even if she knew he was destined to kill or be killed. She loved them all and they could all be facing the same choices in the war to come.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were dancing slowly, looking for all the world as if they were the newlyweds, not a balding, admittedly ordinary, middle-aged man with his somewhat plump, slightly graying wife of many years. A glowing Bill and Fleur were being hugged and kissed by Tonks, who almost knocked them over in the process. Charlie was now twirling a laughing Ginny around and around the dance floor. Ron and Hermione were headed towards the twins, Ron determinedly holding onto Hermione's hand.

Love, like invisible strings, bound them to each other and to him, just as it had his parents and Sirius. Harry stood up to join Ron and Hermione and, as though struck by lightning, decided right at that moment that he would tell them about the prophecy. He would tell them all about the prophecy. He had their love. He would need their support. He would tell them.

Tomorrow.