Disclaimer: Yeah, yeah, yeah. I don't own anything. It all belongs to J.K. Rowling and my twisted imagination. Can you guess which belongs to which?
A/N: This story is...special...it's nothing much. And I sure as hell hope that Gracia isn't a Mary-Sue.
See you at the end of the story.
By the way, I have edited this. Now there aren't any tense changes. That was really annoying.
Would you believe me if I told you that fairy tales may happen in this time? In this world?
You may not, but I speak only the truth. In fact, every word you shall hear from me in this writing is the truth; pure and unadulterated.
A fairy tale today, you ask me. Tell me a fairy tale that is real. I will tell you, you may make of it what you will, this tale of love and magic and beauty.
Once upon a time, a castle stood on the green grounds of Scotland. This castle's name was strange, very much so; yet it was respected more than any other building in the world. In the world of the wizards, that is. The castle's name was Hogwarts, and it was a school.
Now I take you into the fairy tale. You are standing in that Hogwarts; you are with the characters as I paint my tale. Watch, and tell me if fairy tales are cannot be real.
A bell rings and echoes through the drafty halls of Hogwarts. You would never guess that this is a school; at your guess, it is really inhabited by a very old, very rich noble—but then you see.
Students come pouring out of classroom doors. They chatter and laugh, and complain about homework. It could be a normal boarding school, but—let us listen to their conversations.
A petite teen talks to her friends.
"You really need to use the new model of Sleekeezy's Hair Potion, Jenny," the short one says. "By now we might even be able to make it, if we got our hands on the recipe—oh, hello, Sir Nick—" she stops to wave at a ghost floating through the halls. "—anyway, we've been learning about that in Potions class. I can't believe that Professor Snape gave us that essay, by the way. I mean—ugh!—who cares about the strongest love potion ever made?"
But the conversation we really want to hear—the one that begins our tale—is between two other students.
"You've probably been asked too many times before, Bill," a girl says. She talks very slowly and carefully, and is rather short and plump; though it is obvious that the…well-roundedness…is unfortunately genetic. "But what are you going to do after graduation?"
"Well," Bill answers, a tall and lanky school-man with long, red hair. "I'm going into Gringotts, curse-breaking."
"N-nice," the girl comments, again with what might seem over-the-top care. "I'll have you know that I, Gracia Silence Hannah Evensong II, am going to go into Gringotts as well. N-not as a curse breaker, though; I'll be in a team with curse breakers."
"So that leaves what, Gracia?" Bill asks. He talks with a quick grace that makes him sound—no other word for it—cool. "Tale-master, Translator, Warrior, and Navigator? Which one are you thinking of?"
The girl levels a glare at him. "Y-y-y-y-y-y-y—" Gracia talks too fast and starts to stutter. Her frustration mounts, as it does every time a word gets stuck on her fly-paper tongue.
"Slow, Gracia," Bill says. He says it every time she starts to stutter, and it is strangely comforting for her to hear it. Bill is a good friend.
"Y-you know very well what I'm going to be, Bill Weasley," Gracia says again. This time, she is slow enough that all the words are well formed and emerge without a hitch from her throat.
The Healers have been helping her, but they have reached all they can do—now Gracia merely has to take care and talk slowly. Before, even when she talked with the utmost care, Gracia would stutter. Needless to say, Gracia Silence Hannah Evensong II was an expert at nonverbal spells, by now.
"Right," Bill grimaces. "A Tale-master. I should have known. They've accepted you already?"
Gracia merely nods. She avoids talking as much as possible.
"Oh crap," Bill says conversationally. "We have to get to class. Not good for the Head Boy to be late."
"W-what Head Boy?" Gracia asks innocently and looks around, though she knows that Bill is Head Boy.
"Shut up," Bill says, and the two set off at a run in silence.
It is two years after the graduation of Bill Weasley and Gracia Evensong II before they see each other again; curse-breakers and tale-masters have different training programs in Gringotts.
"Is that—" Bill starts. He peers at the woman in front of him.
"B-Bill?" Gracia asks in return, incredulously.
"Gracia! We got put on the same squad!" Bill rejoices.
"I'm so excited," Gracia tells him. "F-finally, we're on an actual team. S-sweet."
The others (mainly men) wonder at Gracia speaking so many words. They haven't heard her talk so much at one time when it wasn't a story (she doesn't stutter in her tales; she adopts a chanting tone which is like singing—and most people don't stutter when they sing), so they get to like Bill rapidly for helping their surrogate sister out of her quiet zone.
"Newbie team," Bill acknowledges. "But still cool."
"I-Is that an earring?" Gracia asks, about the fang that hangs from Bill's left ear. "What did your mother say?" Gracia was one of Bill's best friends in Hogwarts, so she knew his mother and her opinions.
"Um…" Bill replies hesitantly.
"D-Doesn't know?" she asks. There is a knowing look in her eyes.
"I just got it a week ago," Bill tells Gracia. "I won't see Mum for another year."
"Ok," Gracia says. Then the leader of the squad steps up. The leader is a veteran. It is not the most popular job, being the leader of a newbie pack, but the vets all take turns.
"Ok, people," the leader says. "My name is Franklin Summerby, but you will address me as 'sir' or 'Mr. Summerby' not by any term of disrespect. We are in Egypt now, kiddies. Remember your lessons. Water bottle on you at all times. Keep it full. Drink it. Stay at least one foot off the ground if you sit or lay down. Keep your iodine tablets on you and use them. Remember rules for finding water. Understand?" The last is suddenly barked out, and the group quickly assents, some in less words than others.
But a little information; the fairy tale is never enjoyable if the listener is too ignorant.
In each squad is a curse-breaker, translator, navigator, tale-master, and warrior.
The curse-breaker deals with the actual curses on treasure; the translator is the specialist in all sorts of ancient languages that the team might deal with; the navigator directs the team around the mazes that are pyramids and treasure burial grounds (this involves memorizing of maps, quick thinking about turns, and such—the team depends on the navigator so they don't get lost and stuck); the tale-master helps find the treasure by way of local folklore, finds information on curses, navigation, and circumstances of the treasure; and the warrior is on the offensive, fighting the inevitable Inferi and demons that show up.
"What will our mission be?" an impudent kid by name of Donald Wang (the warrior of the team) asks.
"I'm about to tell you that, kids, don't interrupt!" Summerby shouts. Rather aggressively, might I add. Donald Wang shrinks back a little. "We've been assigned to this small pyramid. Shut up and Apparate to this location, babies." He shows a paper to the small group, and six pops sound when the team Disapparates.
It is three years later, when Gracia and Bill's team are hardened vets and taking newbie teams of their own in their free time, that Bill is called back to the Burrow for Christmas and to meet Harry Potter. He comes back to the small apartment in Cairo which is all the living space that is allotted to the five person team with many stories about various exploits of his siblings and their friends. He also tells multiple amusing stories about his mother's reaction to his earring.
The team continues and becomes extremely close-knit. Bill is chosen as the leader, and Donald Wang as second-in-command. Both ranks are often disregarded, but both Bill and Donald occasionally have to use those ranks.
When Bill leaves for the Tri-Wizard Tournament and comes back with tales of half-Veela school-girls, Gracia has a bit of an epiphany.
She is lying on her stomach on her cot, which is the only one in the small room due to her status of only female. Bill's stories of the half-Veela prompt her to think: what is this feeling I have? Why do I care so much? Why aren't I happy that Bill has found a new crush, like I always was before? Like a good friend?
And she realizes, lying there in the cold darkness of desert nights, that she wants to be more than Bill's friend to him. That she always has. And that that will probably never happen.
A year later, almost exactly a year, Bill goes away again. This time, he doesn't come back. An owl comes; Bill saying that he was asking for a transfer to a desk job in the London branch of Gringotts to be closer to his family, and don't worry about him, he would be happy although he would miss them and the excitement of curse-breaking. He also says that he is working with Fleur Delacour, the half-Veela, and is on the verge of being close enough to her to ask her out.
The team slowly breaks up. With Bill gone, they have to have a new curse-breaker, and the new one does not feel like family. The navigator goes to London, and the rest follow him. They take desk jobs, but go back to Egypt occasionally to keep up their skills.
The whole team gets contacted by the Order of the Phoenix, and they all become honorary members, seeing as they are too busy to do anything but work.
A month after they all went to London (and they board together) they hear from Bill, one of a very few correspondences. He tells them that he is getting married to Fleur Delacour, and goes on to describe her in minute detail. With one look at her face, Gracia's roommates remember that she has been in love (very forcefully) with Bill ever since he left for London, at least. They leave her to study the letter.
Gracia's hazel eyes sweep over that deadly letter again, and again, and again. Then they shudder to a stop, on a specific sentence. It reads: "On her shoulder, Fleur has the sweetest little birthmark, shaped like a rose with a heart around it."
"D-damn," Gracia stutters softly to herself. Again, an epiphany; though perhaps this time it is a less personal one.
She rushes to the bookcases filled with books of folklore and legend, and must stand on a footstool to reach the book she wants. The title is Doppelgangers and Simulacri.
For nine months, Gracia has been feverishly researching this mysterious matter. She is still working when she nearly misses two owls, in fact, Donald has to snatch them from the windowsill before they all fly away.
Mrs. Weasley has sent one owl, and the other is one that has been sent to everyone, announcing Albus Dumbledore's death. While the second owl is grieving—terribly grieving; everyone loved Professor Dumbledore dearly, and he was a great man—Mrs. Weasley's owl sets the roommates into action.
It says that Bill has been seriously injured by a werewolf (and will have lupine tendencies although not a true werewolf) and that she thought that some of his oldest friends would like to know.
Upon hearing this, the group of four immediately Apparate to Hogsmeade, as Bill is in the Hospital Wing of Hogwarts. There is a carriage for hire that will bring them to Hogwarts for three galleons per person, which offer the team (Gracia, Gerry Peterson, Don Wang, and Drake Stefensson) take.
Gracia is in the lead as they race through the familiar halls of Hogwarts to the Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey greets them. Her face is worn and lined from Dumbledore's death and all the other injuries that she's had to tend. With a trembling hand, she points to the curtained off bed that contains Bill.
"His lovely fiancé just left, dears," she says. "You have him all to yourselves, and he's awake."
"Oh, thank God," Donald Wang gasps, and they race toward Bill's bed.
"Don?" he asks. "Gracia? Gerry? Drake?"
"B-Bill," Gracia sighs. "I was so scared when your mum sent that l-letter."
"Yeah," Donald Wang agrees. "And you should have owled more."
"We're your friends, mate," Gerry chimes in.
"And not just about your fiancé and her birthmarks," Drake adds.
"I-If you send one more letter like that one—" Gracia says. "I'll c-c-c-c-c—"
"She's going to say castrate you with a plastic spoon," Don says wisely. "It's her new thing."
"Yeah, that," Gracia says, with an impatient wave of her hand. "B-because—even though we love your fiancé for making you so happy, we want to hear about you, goose."
"Bill!" coos another, new voice, with a French accent. "Qui sont ces personnes? 'Oo are zees people?"
"My old Gringotts friends, love," Bill replies, and in an aside to his friends, he says "she's trying to teach me French, by talking it. It's a lost cause," and smiles at the woman. This must be Fleur Delacour.
"Pleezed to meet you," Fleur says to them and turns on the charm. The boys keep themselves from hitting on her by only a narrow margin, since she is their friend's fiancé. "Mon nom est Delacour—Fleur Delacour ees my name."
"Th-that means 'flower of the heart,' right, Ms. Delacour?" Gracia asks curiously.
"Oui," Fleur answers.
"And you are a flower, love," Bill says to her warmly. His scarred face twists when he speaks, and after every word he winces in slight pain.
"So, Bill," Fleur says. She is not looking toward Bill's old team at all. "What are zees people's names? Vous démuni dit. I have not heerd you say zem."
"I-I'm Gracia Evensong," Gracia says.
"Ah," Fleur replies. "Ze stutterer." Gracia flushes deeply and looks down at her feet.
"Don't make fun of my friends, love," Bill tells Fleur gently.
"Oh!" Fleur says. She turns the Veela charm up from where it stands, making her seem far more innocent. "I just must find a trait to remind me of ze names—you know zat, love…"
"Of course," Bill replies in a daze.
"I'm Drake," Drake informs Fleur. "Pleased to meet you." Fleur murmurs some polite nothing, and turns to Don Wang and Gerry.
"Don," Don introduces himself. He sticks out a hand for Fleur to shake. Gracia notices that Fleur commented only on her, not Drake, nor Don—Fleur only commented on her stuttering.
"Gerry, at your service," Gerry says. Bill laughs at the old-fashioned turn of phrase, and Fleur dimples.
"Az much az I would love your company tonight…" Fleur starts. "I'm afraid zat Bill needs his sleep."
"Of course," Gerry says. "Come on, guys." Gracia sticks out her hand for Fleur to shake. Her skin—to Gracia's sensitive fingertips—has the texture of very fine cloth, yet feels fairly human.
Another point to add, Gracia thinks.
"G-good night, Bill," she calls, as they exit the Hospital Wing.
The matter of Fleur is set aside for the next month because of the overload of work in Gringotts. Gracia is needed to find treasure at a double rate, since the goblins have more than enough willing desk workers—which Gracia is not. So Gracia is made to take extra roles—the ones of Translator and Warrior—while her partner is made to take the role of curse breaker, besides his original as navigator.
So, for a month, Gracia works so hard that she can't think of anything much besides her work. That is, until the letter comes.
The owl is elegant, one of the fancier post office ones. The envelope it bears is elegant too. Inside the envelope is an invitation. To Bill and Fleur's wedding.
Suspicions suppressed in Gracia's mind through hard work spring back up again with a vengeance. In the month before the wedding, she starts research again. When it is finally time to go to the rehearsal dinner (Gracia is one of the bridesmaids, due to Bill's insistence) Gracia has only one last test to perform. And one more question: drama or no drama?
It takes the whole ride on the Knight Bus to decide on drama. If she was a Gryffindor, there would be no trouble to decide that way, but Gracia was a Hufflepuff in school. There is something in her that wants subtlety.
"Gracia," Bill greets her at the door. "Is that what you're going to wear?"
"Y-yes," Gracia replies. She looks down at herself uncertainly. Is Bill saying that the dress is crap? He's marrying into a rich family, so he has brand new, high quality dress robes.
"You look great," Bill assures her, once he sees her look. "Don't worry."
"A-are Fleur's parents hear?" Gracia asks.
"They died," says Bill. "She only has her sister left. It's really funny. They look so similar. Both have that same birthmark."
"O-of the rose and the heart?" Gracia asks, suddenly alert again.
"Yes," Bill says slowly. He is becoming suspicious about Gracia's suspicion—not the specifics, but that she is suspicious of something, as odd as that sounds.
"Anyway. W-will I finally meet Harry?"
"Yes," Bill says. "Be careful, though. He's sort of touchy. Great guy, though."
"I-I'm a Hufflepuff, Bill,' Gracia says tartly. "I don't p-poke people's wounds."
"Sorry," Bill says, and realizes that they are standing outside the door. "Let's go in."
"That would b-be nice," Gracia allows, and they trudge in together.
The next fifteen minutes is a whirl of meeting new people and renewing relations with the old ones (mostly Weasleys) for Gracia. As she emerges from a Mrs. Weasley hug, she comes face to face with a tall boy wearing round glasses.
"I'd a-a-a-assume that you're H-Harry Potter?" Gracia asks. Harry's face darkens a bit.
"Of course," he replies. "Everyone knows me."
"N-not you, Harry," Gracia says. "Y-your identity."
"That's a good way of putting it," Harry says. Surprise is reflected slightly on his face. "What's your name?"
"F-full name?" Gracia asks nonchalantly.
"Sure," Harry says.
"Gracia Silence Hannah Evensong II," Gracia recites.
"Long," Harry says.
"F-far too long," Gracia says. "How do you know B—oh, r-right, you're f-friends with R-Ron."
"Yeah," Harry says. "And I used to be boyfriend of Ginny."
"W-why aren't you now?" Gracia asks in surprise. Then, upon seeing the expression on his face, adds, "I know her fairly well."
"She—she puts herself in danger by being close to me," Harry finally said.
"Okay," Gracia says amiably. "Can't understand G-Gryffindors, but sure."
"You weren't a Gryffindor?" Harry asks.
"N-not the Gryffindor t-type?" Gracia remarks. "I was in H-Hufflepuff."
"Oh," Harry says. "And since you've asked me personal questions, I get to ask right back."
"Of c-course," Gracia agrees. "Ask a-away."
"How do you know Bill?" Harry starts. "What's your job? Why are you here? You stutter, right? Why are you looking suspiciously at Fleur?"
"I know Bill from s-school, I worked alongside Bill in finding treasure for Gringotts (I'll explain the system later if you want), I'm h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h—"
Harry waits very patiently for Gracia to get control of herself, and, red-faced, she does.
"Crap," she says. Again she is talking slowly and with super-care. "I'm here because I'm B-Bill's friend. And, yes, y-you can see that I s-stutter."
"What about the last?" Harry asks impatiently when Gracia shows no signs of continuing.
"L-let's go o-over by the m-musicians, Harry," Gracia says.
"Sure Gracia," Harry agrees, a bit confused about her reasons.
"I don't want this overheard, H-Harry," Gracia explained under the cover of loud music. "And I think y-you can help m-me with this."
"How?" Harry asks.
"F-first, I'd like you to know that I am a tale-master," Gracia says. "They are s-specialists on Gringotts treasure t-teams. But I'm n-not just a w-worker at Gringotts; in the s-same way that Professor Snape was not j-just a Potions Master as in a t-teacher at H-Hogwarts, he was also qu-qualified by the M-Ministry to d-do certain things because he had the t-title of Potions Master. I-it's that same with me and my t-title of Tale Master."
"What has this to do with anything?"
"I-I'm getting there. S-something occurred to m-me about Fleur, in a l-letter where Bill was describing every i-inch of her—not the m-most p-pleasant thing, to have to read one of the first letters your friend has sent and it's entirely on his fiancé's body—but s-something struck me. She has this b-b-birthmark, Bill said. And that b-birthmark he described is one of the s-signs of a simulacrum."
"A what? And how are you sure?"
"This i-is why I t-told you my title, Harry," Gracia says gravely. "So you'll t-trust me. I've researched, and all the signs p-point to it and all the s-signs point to Fleur's allotted time being a-almost up. And w-what a simulacrum is—it is a being created b-by a dark wizard. I-I don't know what this w-wizard's purpose was, or even who he was (or she) b-but I d-do know Fleur is a simulacrum. T-to make a simulacrum, a dark w-wizard or witch m-must have a f-flower watered by the l-life-blood of the race they want the simulacrum t-to be and an imitation of a body. A h-humanoid simulacrum w-would have a human shaped frame c-covered in silk, et cetera. A-and, often, the w-witch of w-wizard will l-leave clues (other than the inevitable ones) because they are vain. Fleur's name? It m-means 'flower of the heart' in F-French. A-and another word for 'life-blood' is 'heart-blood'—see?"
"Yes," Harry says. "What are you going to do?"
"F-first I need to find the time she h-has left," lectures Gracia. "Then I need to c-cast three Revealing Charms and then a Finite Incantem on her, all of which w-will g-get her b-back to the frame which she really is."
"How do you need my help?" Harry asks.
"You're a G-Gryffindor," Gracia says. "I need you t-to do the dramatics. I'm too shy and you d-don't stutter."
"Great," Harry says. "What do I need to do?"
"F-first," Gracia says, "you n-need to tell me if you really like G-Ginny."
"Don't lecture me," Harry warns. His face closes off the little bit it has opened during their conversation. "I've already heard it."
"B-because I know that she r-really loves you," Gracia says sternly. "And I know what u-unrequited love feels l-like, and Ginny doesn't d-deserve it."
"Bill?" Harry asks slyly. Gracia fumes and curses her eyes for flicking to Bill's head of red hair, while nodding and smacking Harry's arm. Harry face opens again.
"S-so? Ginny?"
"I love her," Harry whispers. "Don't tell, okay?"
"O-of course not," Gracia says. "And if I d-do I'll make sure the ones I t-told don't act like I told them."
"Deal," Harry says, and the two shake on it.
"A-about the s-simulacrum," Gracia says. "If I t-tell you so, you n-need to say cast those spells in the space of thirty s-seconds, right? I'll take care of t-telling the story. M-make it seem like it was all your idea, a-all right? S-so, here's w-what…"
The wedding ceremony is the next day, at dawn. Before it is lots of grumbling and coffee drinking, but as the wedding party assembles, the slightly chilly air (even in July) wakes everyone up.
The boring part passes surprisingly quickly, and too soon (for Gracia) the couple is about to say heir vows. Gracia gives an almost imperceptible nod to Harry, who leaps up. She had checked Fleur's time left, and found that Fleur will revert to inanimate-object-hood in a week.
"Wait!" Harry cries. The whole wedding goes utterly silent. "Could we just do this tradition—? Bill is my surrogate brother, so—" he leaves it hanging. "Sorry, but I just thought of it. It's very meaningful."
"Of course, 'Arry," Fleur says happily. "I would love to honor your tradition."
"Thank you, Fleur," Harry says. "Revelio! Revelio! Revelio! Finite Incantem!" he casts the spells on Fleur first, and then Bill; Bill stays the same, but Fleur begins to change.
The audience is shocked, but no one more than Bill. He rushes to Fleur's side, and supports the wooden frame that is Fleur now.
A wooden frame, tightly wrapped in white silk. Pinned onto the shoulder of the frame (right where the birthmark was) is a rose—a black rose.
"A simulacrum?" someone whispers.
"Gracia!" Bill calls sharply before Harry has the chance to say anything. "You're the Tale Master, what's the meaning of this?"
"L-let me tell you a s-story," Gracia says quietly. She walks to the little raised platform, and her voice gains a singing quality that lets her tell stories without stuttering. "Once upon a time, an evil wizard lived alone in his big house in the meadow. One day, he got lonely, this wizard. All he had to keep him company were his plants. So he decided to make companions for himself.
"He grew roses, one watered with the life-blood of a dog, one watered with life-blood of a woman, and one watered with life-blood of a boy.
"He made frames that looked like a dog, and a woman, and a boy, and he stretched silk over them. Then he performed a complicated spell that gave them the life-blood from the rose; but they weren't real and would not last as long as a real dog or human, nor age as the normal ones do.
"With these servants, he had time for more unspeakable cruelties. One day, a young man journeyed to the wizard to stop these acts.
"When the young man saw the false woman, he fell in love. He learnt from the wizard and stayed, but was never cruel. One day, the woman's frame had to be renewed. The wizard taught the young man all about the 'simulacrum,' showed him books. They now reside in a Tale Master's library.
"When the young man found that the woman he loved was not real; could not feel real emotions; he went wild. He killed the wizard, dismantled all the simulacri, and killed himself.
"The end.
"I r-recognized the signs of the s-simulacrum in F-Fleur," Gracia continues. "I kn-knew that a s-simple revealing charm would make the simulacrum r-revert to its inanimate s-state. I-I apologize, but h-her time was t-to be over in a w-week."
"Truth!" Ginny calls, obviously recalling a bedtime story. Shouts of "truth!" fill the air as the audience members recall that story, and possibly the spell itself.
"No," Bill gasps. Gracia's eyes fill with tears at his look, and turns away.
"It is the t-truth," says Gracia softly. She does not look at the people's faces. "I-I'm s-so sorry…"
"Thank you," Molly Weasley says. "I think it's better for Bill to find out this way, than to wake up and find wood next to him instead of a woman."
"Thank you," Gracia says. Then, walking up to Bill, says, "Bill…I'm so s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s—"
"Slowly," Bill says automatically, then smiles faintly through his scars.
"So sorry," Gracia finishes.
"I—I just need to think," Bill says, so the audience disbands, going back to the hotel where most are staying.
When she looks back, Gracia can see Bill rocking back and forth violently like an extremely autistic child, locked in his mind.
At the hotel, everyone stands in the lobby, and most avoid Gracia's eye. But Ginny and Harry come and talk to her.
"Harry told me that you told him that you thought he was being stupid to give me up," Ginny says to Gracia with a friendly smile. Gracia grins.
"M-may have," she says. "But I'm a Hufflepuff, s-so I wouldn't understand."
"Best advice he's been given," Ginny says mock sternly. "Hear that, Harry?"
"LALALALALA—" Harry shouts, hands over his ears. Ginny and Gracia crack up.
"Harry tells me that you're in love with my brother," Ginny says slyly and softly while Harry is still shouting. Gracia blushes deeply red.
"R-Ron?" she asks innocently. "He's like my brother."
"You know who I'm talking about," Ginny says sharply. "He never really loved Fleur. It was just Veela lust."
"I d-don't doubt you. B-but I don't think he loves m-me."
"Gracia, Gracia, Gracia," Ginny sighs, shaking her head.
"He'll come around," Harry says. He obviously can hear through his shouts, as his hands are still over his ears. "Now, I have something to do with Ginny."
"Harry?" Ginny asks suspiciously; it seems that she is remembering the time when Harry said the exact same thing and played a prank on her.
"Not a prank," Harry says. He winks at Gracia, then whispers in her ear "I'm not going to let Ginny suffer unrequited love."
"G-good," Gracia says softly once they're gone. She looks down at the floor; she doesn't want to see the Weasley family avoiding her gaze. "I know t-too well what that feels like."
It is an hour that everybody stands around; so let us tell of Bill Weasley.
Bill is stuck inside his own mind. His conscience and his thoughts play over and over behind his eyelids—you never really loved Fleur you aren't sad enough you're relieved that Gracia took her away Gracia Gracia Gracia you never really loved Fleur you're relieved that Gracia took her away Gracia Gracia Gracia
It is almost a half hour before Bill pushes his way through the loop of thought, and comes to the real monster that awaits him. It bears Gracia's face and her stuttering tongue.
You n-never loved her, Bill, it says. You only ever l-l-l-loved me. You were imagining my body as hers every time you l-looked at her, Bill. Forget h-her, Bill. C-come to me. I only d-didn't want you hurt…
Each time the Gracia-thought repeats itself, Bill looks deeper and deeper inside himself—he looks past his grief—past his lust for the Veela—past the conscious part of his mind—and comes to a huge part he had never seen before.
It is labeled (by him, evidently) WARNING, and KEEP OUT, and CONTAINS DANGEROUS SUBSTANCE: LOVE FOR GRACIA SILENCE HANNAH EVENSONG II.
Bill opens this door and he sees a huge room, filled to the brim with what he recognizes to be raw emotions—most of them labeled ETERNAL LOVE or PASSION or LUST or CRUSH or LOVE. With one look at all the amoeba-like forms, he makes a decision—and gets catapulted back out of his mind.
He looks around in a daze, but with a clear mind. Everything seems surreal; there is no sign that people were ever there but for the trampled grass.
So he walks to the reception area and enters—so quietly, so unobtrusively, that no one notices his presence. Soon enough he locates Gracia and, sneaking up behind her, says "boo" softly into her ear as he always does.
As she always does, Gracia lets out a little shriek and turns around to smack him—but this time she freezes, suddenly realizing that yes, it is Bill there, and yes, he is kissing her—and yes, she is kissing him back.
Upon hearing him whisper "I love you" to her and whispering it right back—Bill breaks away. Still, no one has noticed Bill's presence and those who have, it is not registering on their brain that it is Bill Weasley.
"Will you marry me?" Bill asks.
"What took you so long?" Gracia asks—stutter gone.
"Then come here," he says, and pulls her by the hand up to the little raised platform for dancing.
"Bill?" Mrs. Weasley asks. She sees his face—so happy—so unlike when Fleur was uncovered, just an hour ago—and moves toward him. But Ginny and Harry—remarkably appearing with slightly swollen and bruised lips—hold her back.
"I'm going to get married anyway today, guests of my wedding," Bill announces; and is met with utter silence. "Gracia Silence Hannah Evensong II, will you consent to become Gracia Silence Hannah Weasley?"
"I do, William Francis Weasley," Gracia says. "And n-now, let's g-get actually married."
"Of course," Bill says, and he transfigures her dress into a simple wedding dress. "Professor Lupin? If you'll do the honors?"
"Yes, Bill," Lupin says. He looks surprised to be asked but comes up anyway. "If you will give me your wands."
The wands are handed over and placed on a cushion. Lupin binds them with a white silk rope.
"Wand of the wizard, wand of the witch, do you accept each other?" Lupin asks the wands. If the wands accept each other, there would be a flash of light, and there would be only one wand on the cushion. The acceptance of the wands mean that the couple is compatible.
In this case, almost before Lupin is done speaking, the wands fuse in a flash of bright light. Bill's scarred face and Gracia's plump one reflect utmost serenity and happiness—it is a joy to watch. Harry and Ginny move closer together.
"The wands have accepted each other. So pronounce thy vows."
"I vow to love thee forever, and to be thy wife and thy partner. I will not keep secrets from thee, except about birthday presents and the like. I vow to be the hand that guides thee on the path and holds thy candle when the times are dark, to be thy drink when thou art thirsty, to be thy food when thou art hungry. This I vow."
Bill vows: "I vow to love thee forever and to be thy husband and thy partner. I will not conceal from thee matters other than thy birthday presents and suchlike. I vow to be the hand that guides thee and holds thy candle when the times are dark, to be thy wine when though art thirsty, to be thy bread when thou art hungry. This I vow."
"Do you take each other as spouse, without reservations, without regrets?" Lupin asks.
"I do," Gracia says firmly.
"I do," Bill says happily, and the wands come apart, now bound by two simple, gold rings.
"Then place the ring on thy spouse's finger."
Bill slides the ring on gently, gently, and Gracia eases it on so that Bill can hardly feel the ring move.
"Though art wizard and wife," Lupin finally says, they are married.
They lived happily ever after.
Is that a good fairy tale? It is all true, all of this marvelous tale. And if you must know more of these tales, I will tell you more, but now it is bedtime for small children.
A/N (#2!): Hi again. Review m new and improved version of this baby.