–o–
Chapter
Three
A
sudden twist
Where had the time gone? Was it really twenty–four hours later? Could people even change so much in that brief space?
According to Mrs. Weasley's attitude, people could. Or, in better and more precise terms, she could.
With less than forty–eight hours until the big event, Mrs. Weasley had suddenly realized the oncoming truth: her eldest son was about to marry. It hit her like a sandbag, in the face and with her guard lowered. She had awoken as if it were a normal day. She went to the kitchen and made sure Tonks wasn't attempting to make breakfast. She then began to cook sausage, toast, and fried eggs. Ginny woke up and walked into the kitchen. Behind her came Hermione, then Harry, then Ron, then the Twins and Bill. Tonks appeared soon after them, but coming in from the outside after a long night of patrolling and looking devastated.
And then it happened.
There was a sob. A sob like none at the table had ever heard. This sounded as though someone had choked on a large swig of water. The indescribable noise was immediately followed by the crashing of a frying pan on the kitchen floor and the necks of eight other people whipping toward the small, chunky silhouette of Mrs. Weasley, half–bent over the cauldron and breathing heavily.
"Oh my . . ." she gasped. "Oh my . . . Oh my, oh my . . ."
Tonks and Bill hurried to aid Mrs. Weasley. She didn't seem to want to move, but with some effort they managed to bring her toward the nearest chair and had her sit on it. Her eyes were slightly unfocused.
"Mum?" asked Ginny in a serious tone.
"Oh my oh my oh my . . .!" was all Mrs. Weasley said.
"Should I wake dad?" said Ron, terrified.
"No, wait," Hermione held his arm. "I think I know . . ."
Tonks brought a glass of water to Mrs. Weasley, who by then had a pale face. Bill stared directly at her eyes.
"Mum?" he slowly said. "Are you—?"
"Oh, Bill!" she suddenly cried, hugging her son so tight and abruptly that both Tonks and Harry drew their wands at once. They felt rather dumb when realizing their action and hurried to store them back in their pockets.
"Bill!" Mrs. Weasley cried again, her closed eyes sprinkled with teardrops. "Bill, you're getting married!"
It was a very odd sight – Bill's scarred face was going to the far limits of the red hue Harry had discovered in only the past several hours. Hermione coughed a bit.
"Thought so," she whispered. "She's just got it."
Ron and the Twins, who had turned to see Hermione, now moved their eyes to their mother and older brother.
"You're going to be married!" shouted Mrs. Weasley, jumping off her chair and releasing Bill in such an abrupt movement anybody around would have thought she had touched one of Arthur's stripped wires. "Oh my . . . Oh my! Bill, you're going to be married, and in just two days! Oh my oh my! The guests! The guests shall arrive soon! And I haven't cleaned! And the rooms – and the – and —"
"Well, well," George slowly whispered, not smiling at all. "Bill has achieved what we couldn't in all these years . . ."
"Yeah," nodded his twin brother, not smiling as well, "he made Mum lose it for good . . ."
Harry knew Molly Weasley by heart. She had been so kind to him in the past years that he thought he knew almost everything about her. So he was very surprised when she got suddenly quiet and her face turned even paler.
"We have so much work to do!" she almost shouted. "We must clean the house, and prepare the guestrooms, and start thinking on the food for the wedding party, and —"
"Be afraid . . ." muttered Fred.
" . . . Be very afraid," finished George. Everybody around nodded mournfully.
To say Mrs. Weasley had become mildly frantic would have been a very lame description of her current state. She was hysterical. Harry had known her about authoritative side since Grimmauld Place, when she literally commanded her own little army of house–cleaners. What she began to do was much, much worse than that.
To begin with, the meal was full of Mrs. Weasley's ideas of things to do, and who would do them. Tonks excused herself saying she had to go out and patrol a bit more, but the rest of the group ended up with several chores to finish before noon and several more after lunch. Ron and the Twins protested, but it was clear they would waste their breath on a lost battle from the very beginning.
From a quiet little breakfast the day had turned into a race against the clock. Harry and Ron had been assigned to the bedroom of the latter, having the mission of cleaning it up. Ron said it was clean enough but his mother was now a solid wall of determination. There was no way to contradict her.
Hermione helped Ginny to clean her room; Bill offered to help the Twins clean theirs, in spite of Mrs. Weasley nearly refusing to let her beloved son work on "his special day". Mr. Weasley was awoken by the unmistakable war cry of his darling wife, and was immediately put to work in the back garden.
The Delacours had exited their cabin and looked at the Burrow: dust clouds puffed out of every window. Fleur, who knew Mrs. Weasley much better than any of her relatives, gave a little cough and explained in refined French something along the lines of "They're cleaning the house for the wedding" but that, for some unknown reason, Fleur's expression made it sound slightly insignificant.
During lunch it was clear to the Delacours something was happening. Half of the long table the Weasleys had arranged in the backyard was occupied by dusty people. Hermione's hair looked like a dirty dandelion clock, and now it was easy to identify Fred and George by the different mud patterns on their faces. Still, the Delacours proved to be excellent guests and, instead of complaining about the general group appearance (though Fleur had to bite her tongue) were set on learning some English words of appreciation for Mrs. Weasley's food.
"The first guests will arrive tonight, so move it!" Mrs. Weasley panicked some two hours later, having arranged new chores for the family. "We'll need some more beds, Arthur . . ."
Harry coughed out more dust and resumed feather–dusting the cupboard. It was proving to be an exhausting mission. The feather–duster had been long ago charmed by the Twins and now it had a mind of its own, and it certainly didn't want Harry Potter to guide it on its life–long occupation. Instead, the feather–duster was guiding Harry's hand. It was all very neat to have cleaning equipment that would do the chores itself, but this failed joke in particular was keener on toppling teacups than freeing them from dust, not to mention wishing to bring nervous breakdowns on anyone trying to clean with it.
"You have to grip it hard!" said Ginny, coming to his aid. "I've been cleaning with that for years, now. Look."
Ginny snatched the enchanted feather–duster from Harry's hands and squeezed it hard. Its feathers shuddered and went limp.
"You take it," smiled Ginny. "I must help mum with the attic. That ghoul won't cooperate."
Harry took the feather–duster and smiled at her. Ginny left and Harry followed her figure with his eyes. They stopped on the staircase, where she disappeared. Harry took a long, tender sigh of mixed feelings and a sudden and violent jerk on his arm brought him back to reality. He swore and hoped he would snap the feather–duster with the next squeeze.
After what seemed ages of hard work, the house sparkled and Mrs. Weasley ordered everybody to get properly cleaned and correctly dressed. A very long line formed outside the bathroom door; Harry was one of the last people in the row. By the time he got out of the bathroom to let Fred in, Harry could hear a muffled collection of voices coming from the kitchen. There were more than usual.
The answer to that arrived as soon as Harry, now refreshed and wearing clean clothes, climbed down to the kitchen and discovered several new people in the room. Mrs. Weasley beamed at him as she grabbed the boy by the arm and pulled him into the conversation she was having with a tall, elderly woman.
"—and this is Harry Potter!" she gleefully said. The elderly woman's eyebrows shot to the ceiling and, as Harry had expected, fixed immediately on his lightning–shaped scar.
"Oho!" said the old woman, a hand politely on her mouth. "This is ever a pleasure! Oh my!"
"Harry, dear, this is our Great–Auntie Muriel."
"Oh! Ah!" said Harry. "Yes, Ron and Ginny told me about you, ma'am . . ." he said, and he suddenly became aware he had run out of topics.
Fortunately for him, Ron walked in at that moment.
"Ronnikins!" Muriel cried in delight. Harry turned in time to see Ron mouthing 'Oh No'.
Muriel hurried around Harry and before anybody could stop her she was cracking Ron's backbone in a powerful hug. Ron's face was deep crimson against his great-aunt's shoulder, though Harry couldn't guess if it was because of embarrassment or plainly due to the lack of oxygen in his lungs.
"Oh, you naughty little handsome man!" Muriel said, cheerfully pinching both of Ron's freckled cheeks. "I had word my handsome little man is dating, isn't he then?"
Friendship or not, Harry had to turn and send both hands to clasp his mouth to prevent the sudden eruption of laughter in his throat. He could still hear them, though.
"What are you talking about?" Ron worriedly whispered.
"Oh, come on, now, Fred and George told it all to me. What is her name, then again? Lavender, wasn't it?"
"He prefers her calling him Won–Won," George's voice floated down from the stairs. Fred's gleeful voice immediately followed, "Ickle Won-Won!"
"That's not—!"
"Oh, don't you be shy, Ronnikins . . . You are such a handsome boy and will —"
Harry chose than moment to move along and meet the other guests, although most of them were focusing on the scene at Harry's back. He recognized the Weasley's trademark red hair in most of the guests. One of the shorter men turned his attention from Ron and Muriel and greeted Harry, claiming to be Ron's grandfather. There were other cousins and relatives, but in total there were no more than ten extra people, including some Harry knew very well: there were a couple of members from the Order of the Phoenix, and Harry immediately headed their way when spotting them.
"Good evening, Potter," muttered Mad–Eye Moody, his magical blue eye spinning wildly. "Had a nice stay so far?"
"Yes, indeed," Harry couldn't help but smile. Behind his back he could hear Ron trying to free himself from the clutches of Auntie Muriel. Harry tried hard to keep his attention on both Mad–Eye and Minerva McGonagall, who was alongside the senior Auror.
"Well, we are certainly relieved to see you unharmed," McGonagall said to Harry, looking sideways to check that nobody else was paying attention to their chat. It seemed Ron and Auntie Muriel were attracting it all, so McGonagall continued, in a lower voice: "We should discuss some points about the mission Dumbledore put upon you, however."
Harry nodded, aware that he was expecting the topic to spring any moment.
"Hagrid got your owl," she went on. "He didn't doubt doing what you requested, but we preferred to wait and talk it out with you. Why have you chosen that way?"
"I thought it would be proper," Harry simply said. "I'm planning to go to Godric's Hollow first, and attempting Apparition in an unknown place would be rather stupid."
McGonagall nodded. "Well, I'm glad to see you're beginning to think clearly. Godric's Hollow, then? I suppose . . . there are other reasons involved?"
"There is, yes. I — I want to visit my parents' graves."
Despite Ron's shrieking retorts towards both Fred and George's mocking, the little space surrounding Harry, McGonagall and Moody became quiet and serious.
"I understand . . . Harry," McGonagall said quietly.
"It is good to see you stick to your principles," Moody smiled, his scars re–arranging their positions in a strange fashion. "You'll do good, Potter."
"In that case, I'll send orders to Hagrid to bring it with him, tomorrow," McGonagall resumed. "When will you leave, then?"
Harry hesitated. "I was thinking about . . . tomorrow night. After the wedding party and . . . well, hopefully when everybody is in bed. Does Mrs. Weasley know —"
"She doesn't know a thing," Moody mumbled, serious again. "We haven't told her. You do understand she is too fond of you. I wouldn't want to meet her eye when she realizes . . . But anyway, you'll go along your way. Just like James and Lily, really."
Harry nodded, but couldn't keep talking. He turned and noticed Ron was arguing with the Twins, but it surely wasn't anything serious, otherwise Hermione and Ginny wouldn't be laughing so hard at him. Auntie Muriel was staring at Ron with that over–protective face Harry had quickly memorized and stored in his forever-growing "Beware of This" section of brain.
That night Harry simply couldn't sleep. The previous nights he had had similar problems, but at least he was able to close his eyes for an hour or two. This time, however, he was sure he hadn't slumbered at all. The clock was tickling inside his skull and he was also beginning to realize some facts.
He was close to twelve hours from his unexpected farewell. And he was going to drag both Hermione and Ron with him. But he knew the worst bit was that Ginny would also come along. Mrs. Weasley would go mental. He just couldn't picture her face of intense disappointment, rage and sadness once she came to realize—
But he had to stop thinking on that, or else he would never leave. So instead he turned his thoughts only to Ginny. This proved to be a bad idea, since now most of his thoughts toward her involved strangely seducing scenes, most of them taking cues from that little Apparition accident.
Harry bit his pillow. In the past he had been worrying too much about Voldemort and the threat he meant for the Wizard World, and he forgot to worry about himself. Only a few times he had been able to focus on the daily life of a teenager boy and get used to it, but right now he was having an overdose of mixed feelings. Puberty had waited for years, and now it was handing the bill to him.
Ginny . . . Beautiful, gracious Ginny. Ginny Weasley of the long, reddish hair. Ginny Weasley of the Quidditch Pitch. Ginny Weasley of the flowery smell. Ginny, Ginny, oh, so cute, so strong, so beautiful Ginny . . .
Ginny Potter . . .
Harry's thoughts froze at this point. Where had that came from? He heard Ron's snores and tried his best at emptying his mind from every thought, but it was one of the few things Harry could just not perform correctly, emptying his mind.
Ginny Potter . . .
Harry rolled on the mattress and suddenly realized he was more awake than before. He had to stop thinking . . .
Ginny and Harry, living together . . .
He closed his eyes tightly. This couldn't be true.
. . . living together, alone . . .
Harry covered his head with the blanket.
. . . alone, sharing a place on the couch . . .
He realized he was beginning to lose it.
. . . sharing a place in the bed . . .
Harry gasped and hastily sat on his bed. All his thoughts ran away and hid somewhere, but he knew what he had just thought, and wasn't sure how he felt about it.
He made sure Ron and the Twins, also sleeping in the same room, hadn't awoken. Then he slowly slid off the bed and went to the small window. He leaned his arms on it and looked out at the darkness.
Down on the ground he could see someone patrolling. Tonks. Her bubble–gum–pink hair bobbed just over the light of her wand and was unmistakable. Harry leaned his chin on his folded arms and tried to keep a calm attitude.
It was a lost battle.
–o–
The next morning, the kitchen was empty except for Mrs. Weasley, who was feverishly cooking.
"Good morning, Harry, dear," she greeted. "We're having breakfast outside. There're so many people . . ."
Harry greeted her as well and walked out, where he was greeted over and over by all the guests sitting at the long table arranged on the backyard. Moody's magical eye fixed on him a second or two before spinning madly one more time.
"Will you have more sausages?" asked McGonagall.
"No, thanks. I'll be off to patrol. Tonks has gotten tired, and no wonder," Mad–Eye Moody grunted. He produced a bottle from within his robes and gave it a swig. "You can have my seat, Potter," he added as he stood up.
"Thanks, but right now I am feeling like walking a bit. Where is Ginny?" he asked in a very lame casual tone, noticing she was not at the table.
"She's feeding the chickens," spoke Auntie Muriel. Harry noticed she had had seat next to Ron and this had made her favorite grandnephew very uneasy. "She's such a special girl, I'm telling you. I remember when she was a baby: there was—"
But Harry didn't stay to hear what happened when Ginny was a baby, for he needed to speak to the present Ginny. Aware that everybody at the table realized his casual morning walk had headed straight to the chicken coop, he attempted (and failed) to adopt a calm speed that just wouldn't work.
The chicken coop was located around the house, so it wasn't on a direct visual line with the breakfast table. That was not a real worry in Harry's mind, for he felt Mad–Eye's magical eye following him all the way there, even through the Burrow itself. Better that way, thought Harry, now he could talk with Ginny in private without anyone coming to check if they were safe. They all could think whatever they pleased.
And there was Ginny. Harry stopped at once and witnessed an unusual scene. He already knew there were chickens in the Burrow and, obviously, they were to be fed by someone. But he had never seen Ginny Weasley at it.
She was currently showing her back to him, but Harry could see she was wearing an apron and was using it as a temporary bag to carry corn. While one hand held the improvised bag in position, the other one took handfuls of grains and tossed them to the surrounding chickens in a soft swing of her arm that was strangely soft and strong at the same time.
And she was softly humming.
Accompanied by a gentle, almost unnoticeable swing of her body, Ginny hummed the bars of a slow, tender song Harry had never heard before, but which he knew he'd never forget again. The sound seemed to float with the wind and slip into his heart and soul, just like the Phoenix song. The chickens pecked the ground for the fallen grain and came closer at the singer's tune. Harry felt the incredible urge to cluck.
He cleared his throat instead. Ginny's song broke and the girl spun on the spot, looking surprised and a bit embarrassed.
"Harry . . . G–Good morning . . . I was just . . ."
"Don't worry," he hastily said. "It's okay, I didn't mean to — But that was beautiful . . . What was that song?"
"I don't really know," she confessed, turning again and tossing more corn grains. "I just made it up."
"Well, it sounded very cool," he said, approaching her.
There was an awkward moment of silence. Harry noticed Ginny's reddened cheeks as he stopped at her side. Surely she had never let anyone catch her humming, but it wasn't entirely surprising. Hadn't she hidden her Quidditch skills for so long? There were, Harry was convinced, still several skills to discover about Ginny Weasley.
He grabbed a handful of grain from her improvised bag and tossed it to the nearby chickens. They just clucked and pecked.
"Is — Is there anything you wanted to talk about?" she hesitated.
There sure was. But right then Harry was doubtful of the relevance of what he had to say. So what if he had thought 'Ginny Potter' in his attempt to sleep? Everybody had wild imagination from time to time. Probably even Hermione Granger.
"Hmm . . . I thought there was," Harry lied, "but can't really recall it now. Mustn't have been important."
"Oh," she whispered.
It wasn't strange for Harry the fact he had suddenly became silent around her, but why was she silent as well? Up to now she had demonstrated she knew how to step ahead when talking, and now she was next to him, quiet. He could sense she was nervous.
"Is everything alright?" he asked, as if looking for a topic.
"Quite so," she whispered. There was something in her voice that sounded odd.
"Today's the wedding," Harry tried. "And then, the party . . ."
She just nodded. Harry felt he had eaten lead and it was currently stuck in his throat.
"And then," he muttered, looking away, ". . . then we will—"
"I would like to be alone, please."
Harry froze and blinked. He looked at Ginny and saw her biting her lower lip. Her eyes were shiny, though she was not looking at him but at the ground.
"What—"
"Please," she empathized. Harry now recognized the oddness in her voice: she was holding back tears. "I need time to think some things over."
"But tonight we—"
"Harry . . ." she looked at him. A pair of pearly eyes shone on the morning sun. "Please . . ."
Harry slowly nodded and decided not to say another word. Hesitantly, he turned and strolled back to the breakfast table. Whatever had happened to Ginny, Harry didn't know it. He just hoped it wasn't anything bad.
–o–
"She's probably worried, that's all," said Hermione after breakfast, gathered with Harry and Ron in the latter's bedroom. Harry was sitting on his bed while Ron and Hermione sat on the other. "You two are really in love with each other. We have noticed," she added.
Ron nodded. "She's right, you know. Ginny knows what we are up to and, well, it's only natural she'll worry for you, isn't it?"
Harry nodded, but in the depths of his mind he knew neither Ron nor Hermione were aware of his own plans with Ginny.
"She must also be a bit nervous about the whole wedding thing," Hermione went on. "Have you seen her staring at Gabrielle? They both will assist Fleur during the ceremony."
"Oh, that could explain a lot," Ron muttered. "Well, Gabrielle is very quiet. And nice–looking, too," he added, now in that vague tone he reserved for Fleur Delacour.
"Ron!" Hermione said, scowling. "Quit it, will you? I thought we had talked this through!"
Ron stared at her and grinned. "Talked? I thought we just kis—"
"You know what I mean!" she cut in crossly, blushing pink.
"Okay, okay, I do, all right," Ron turned his sight to the window. "Blimey, it's the first wedding I'll be in, too, you know that?"
"Me too," said Harry, who was feeling slightly worried by other topics beyond Ginny. He suddenly wondered what people did at weddings when they were not getting married.
"I've been to my aunt's wedding, some years ago," Hermione said. "Nothing important, really. Mum was invited along with my dad and I. But I've never been at a Wizard Wedding before . . ."
"What about them?" asked Harry.
"Oh, they are different than Muggle Weddings," Hermione said distractedly.
"Are they?" Harry's worries increased. At least he had seen Muggle Weddings on TV and newspapers and such, but he had never thought Wizards would marry in a different way. "How different?" he asked.
"Well . . ." Hermione leaned a bit on the mattress. Harry noticed Ron glancing out of the corner of his eye at Hermione's new pose. "It's a bit like an Unbreakable Vow, you surely remember that one."
"What, the bride and bridegroom vow on their deaths?" Harry said, half amazed, half impressed.
"No, no, of course not! I mean, it's similar in the sense they do hold hands and speak their vows out loud so a bond can be forged between the two!" Hermione hastily said.
Harry scowled in confusion. "I just thought of this one, but . . . what kind of religion do Wizards follow?"
"Ah, that has been a widely debated topic all the way," Ron spoke next. "We just follow whichever religion fits us best, just like Muggles around the world. But as for, say, proper Wizard Religion, we plead to Merlin's Blessing."
Harry blinked. "Now, come on . . ."
"It's true," said Hermione. "See, Merlin was the greatest wizard of all times, what with the Merlin Orders given by the Ministry and everything. Wizards can have a catholic wedding, alright, or any other religion they feel comfortable with; but that's mainly for Muggle appearances."
"Then . . . this Vowing thing . . .?"
"That's for the Wizard World," said Ron. "Once the Bond is performed, they are a formal Wizard couple. The Bond doesn't work if either of the sides is a Muggle. It does work with Squibs, however."
"Remember that tapestry at Sirius' house?" Hermione asked, referring to the Black Family Tree. "Well, every time a wizard of that tree marries, their couple is added to the tree magically, and every newborn wizard is also added automatically. It all depends on the magic used for the tree, anyway."
"What does that mean?" asked Harry.
"It means some wizards allow Muggles and Squibs in their Family Trees, while others—"
"—while others don't," finished Harry. "Yeah, that sounds pretty logical, coming from Sirius' family, anyway . . . There're still so many things I just ignore about the Wizard World and yet I'm going on a scavenger hunt in it."
"Which reminds me," Hermione went on, changing the topic, "how are we going to go with you?" she asked.
Ron let himself fall back on his mattress, his hands clasped on his forehead. He gave a great grunt and muttered a lame "Dunno."
"Well, we better think up something!" she said. "We can't let Harry alone on this one!"
"He will have the support of the Order, won't he?" muttered Ron.
"And didn't you want to be part of it?" she snapped.
"Hey, of course I want," Ron pressed his elbows on the mattress and raised his head. "It's just my mother's the actual problem, see? You two haven't seen her in her really protective mood. It's almost as bad as her absolute reprehensive one."
"You are no longer a kid!" Hermione retorted. "You've turned seventeen, so did both Harry and I! We are free to make our own decisions! It's not as, say, as if we're taking Ginny with us, or anything!"
Harry went pink and was so glad they didn't notice, as they were so focused on their little chat.
"Well, of course Ginny is not coming! You think I'd let my little sister in such an errand? This will be bloody dangerous! What kind of a moron do you think I am?"
Harry went past pink and straight into standard red.
"I am not saying we'll bring her with us! I just gave that as an example! As if we would let someone underage risk her neck in—"
"Harry, what's with you?" Ron suddenly said.
Both he and Hermione stared at Harry. He was scarlet, and became very determined to avoid his friends' gaze.
"Nothing," he lied. "Just thinking on . . . on our escape and . . ."
He could felt Hermione's inquisitorial eyes drilling into his skull. Thank Goodness she didn't know how to perform Legillimancy.
But of course, that didn't mean she couldn't use cold logic.
"Harry," she said in a warning tone, "you can't be possibly thinking on taking Ginny with us, can you?"
"W–What? I didn't say I would!"
"Neither you said you wouldn't," she snapped. "Are you serious? This is insane!"
"I haven't said anything!" he claimed, feeling an annoying, irking tickle within his belly.
"You're blushing!" Hermione pushed it.
"Look . . .! Look, just because . . .!" Harry started, but caught Ron's half–open mouth and pale face. "So what if I . . . thought . . . on bringing her with us?" he admitted, being careful not to say too much.
"Now, you are joking me," Ron muttered. "It's a joke, right? Harry, Ginny is—"
"She's stronger than you think, and you know she is," Harry attacked, wondering how the topic and chat mood had become so heavy in so little time.
"So she is, Harry, but under Ministry rules she is not adult enough to perform magic!" Hermione scandalized. "She won't be able to defend herself if . . . if we get attacked, or anything!"
Harry stood up so abruptly Ron and Hermione leaned back. His face was red.
"The Ministry should have thought on those rules, then! These are dark times and I believe everybody should be allowed to cast protective spells in moments of need!"
"Harry, don't change the topic," said Hermione, scared but persistent. "We're talking of Ginny. Please, don't do anything stupid. I know you like her, but don't—"
"Don't what?" he said. "Don't do anything idiotic, like bringing my friends to a nice fight to the death with a pack of Death Eaters down at the Ministry of Magic?"
". . . here we go . . ." muttered Ron, looking at the ceiling.
"Or perhaps, don't do anything out of my mind, like thinking for a whole year that Malfoy and Snape were together in a plot against Hogwarts? Get a grip, Hermione!" he cried. "Voldemort is out there and he's never cared about the age of his next victim! We all are potential victims! Not just us wizards but Muggles as well! And can they do magic? No! I'd like to see what you think when you get back home and spot the Death Mark right over your parent's hou—"
There was a loud clap, and next thing Harry knew he was stumbling back on his bed with a hurting cheek. Hermione had stood up and was glaring at Harry with blazing, watery eyes. Ron remained sitting, looking at Hermione with wide eyes and an expression that showed no wish of risking his cheeks by talking.
"Just what the hell is wrong with you?" she stuttered on the verge of tears. "How dare you say something like that? You think — you think I haven't considered that? You believe I haven't thought on my parent's sake? Do you perhaps imagine I am not worried for them, that I am here enjoying myself?"
Harry rubbed his hurt cheek. His wrath had left with the blow and now he was wondering how much more of an idiot he could make out of himself.
"I am not," she gulped. "I am bloody not. So don't you never — ever — say that again."
Harry just nodded, astonished.
"Now be quiet and listen to me," she went on, sniffing. "We are about to face a huge challenge. We are going to risk our lives. But we know what we are heading into, and we so far have accepted it. But that doesn't mean we will risk somebody else's life. We want to join you because we are your friends, do you understand that? We want to be with you in this, because we are friends and we help each other. But Ginny . . . I admit she is strong and with skills, but . . . She is underage."
"Is that the only reason?" Harry slowly said. "Is one year a long way to go? If she doesn't join us now, she'll do when she turns of age. She will find a way."
Hermione stared at him as if she wanted to slap him again.
"Does she know that you are planning to take her along with us?" she asked.
"Yes," Harry said. He couldn't hide that, for they could go and ask Ginny herself.
"And what's her view on it?" she asked next.
Harry thought on the recent events. Ginny's sad face floated past. I need time to think things over, she had said. So, Harry thought, she was regretting it, as he had feared.
"She doesn't really want to go," he muttered. Then added, hastily: "Sorry. You were right. I won't mention it again."
Hermione slowly sat down back on the mattress. Ron kept his amazed eyes on her.
"Don't you say that to make me feel better," she whispered. "Harry, I want you to promise that you won't take her with us."
"Isn't that too much?" he asked, feeling slightly irked again. "You don't have the right to say what can people do."
"I can simply go and tell Mrs. Weasley," she added.
There was a long, thick silence after her declaration. Harry felt greatly insulted. He wouldn't have expected such a reaction from one of his best friends. But of course, Hermione would attach to the rules as much as she could, and that was the way she was.
But anyway, what could she probably know? How could she realize? He was planning to leave them behind, but just for a bit and only to escape with Ginny. Once they were together again, Harry knew, the argument would start over, perhaps more intensely than recently.
But Ginny's scared face floated past again, and all he could tell was she was heavily doubting her decision.
Harry closed his eyes, only to avoid the tears.
"Very well," he whispered. "I promise I won't take her with us . . ."
Hermione sighed in relief. Ron didn't say a world. He was probably lost in his own thoughts on the topic.
–o–
Not even Hagrid's arrival had cheered Harry enough. Both his half–giant friend and Madame Maxime, Headmisstress of Beauxbatons, had arrived to attend at the wedding, each one invited by each of the families.
Madame Maxime was also a half–giant: a beautiful olive–tanned woman with dignity and pride written all over her. Hagrid and Maxime had arrived in the latter's flying chariot, as huge as a house and pulled by a dozen beautiful winged horses. They arrived right before noon, while Mrs. Weasley was attempting to set the table while dealing with Nymphadora Tonks' need to help.
"Oi, Harry!" Hagrid approached his friend and gave him a friendly pat on his back, making him fall flat on the backyard's grass. "How yer doin'? McGonagall reckons you've done good. An' . . ." he bent down and whispered in a conspirator fashion " . . . An' I brought him with us. Just as yer asked me. He's in ter chariot. Olympe wasn't so glad to have him there, but . . . I thought he would want ter be transported for once."
Harry had forgotten the request he had made to Hagrid. What with his broken dreams and the chat he had previously had with his friends. Still, he would keep his plans standing, even if that meant leaving all alone. Just as the Order expected, really.
"Thanks, Hagrid," he said. His huge friend gazed at him.
"Yer okay? Yer look like . . . dunno, not good."
"Don't worry about me. I've been worse," Harry lied.
"Okay, then. Want ter see him? He would be delighted ter see yer again!" beamed Hagrid.
"Well . . . Why not."
Hagrid guided Harry to the giant chariot, from which strange sounds of scraping could be heard. Hagrid opened the door and leaned inside, talking to another person.
"We're here, at last! Wasn't that a nice flight? So good ter rest yer wings for a bit and let others do the flyin' instead, inni't true? Now come, I have someone who wants ter see yer again . . ."
Slowly, Hagrid pulled back and a creature appeared from inside the chariot. His body was an eagle head, wings, and front legs, his horse back, his gleaming orange and inquisitive eyes and, most important, his air of utmost elegance.
Buckbeak the hippogriff.
He gave an annoyed cry as he descended. Obviously he hadn't coped with the idea of letting someone else handle the flying. Hagrid stopped him just in front of Harry so he could stare fixedly into Buckbeak's orange eye as he carefully bowed. Harry was glad to see the hippogriff bow in response much quicker than he recalled.
"He realized now he's yer's" smiled Hagrid. "After all, well, Sirius left him ter you."
"But I gave him to Sirius," said Harry, approaching and stroking Buckbeak's feathery neck. "It's strange, but . . . in a way, I sort of stole from you."
Hagrid laughed. "Now, don't be foolish! The moment I heard the true story 'bout Sirius and his escape I agreed givin' Buckbeak ter him. He's legally yers, Harry."
Harry stared at Buckbeak's eye and stroked a bit more of his neck. His. Harry owned a magnificent magical creature. Had he ever realized this fact? He also owned a house. And a whole vault in Gringotts held a fortune in gold, all his. And also a house–elf was working under his orders. No, two house–elves, since Dobby would be thrilled to obey any of Harry Potter's orders. That surely annoyed Kreacher.
Harry's hand stopped stroking.
A cold, nasty shiver began to creep up his spine.
He had never really thought on that. He had never really realized the extent of his belongings, especially in the past year. Harry was not a materialist person: the Dursleys had never taught him to expect much glory from money, since they never gave Harry any. Thus, he had learned to find happiness in those things money just couldn't buy, like a night full of stars, the dawning sun, and those dreams and hopes that for so many years had kept him alive.
He didn't really want all he owned. He felt he could easily exchange it all for one single person. But to offer money for Ginny Weasley was a nasty vision. People couldn't be bought, especially loved ones.
He stared back at the Burrow. That night he would depart and leave it all behind. Only by destroying Voldemort he would ever return, he felt it that way, and so he might have been living the very last hours of his entire life in the only house he ever felt at home in.
A mournful feeling choked his throat. What the hell; if there was anybody in this world who deserved gratification, it was the Weasley family.
"I'm glad to see Buckbeak again, Hagrid," Harry slowly whispered, "but right now I need to write a letter, if you don't mind. A very important letter."
–o–
Guests kept coming in during lunch and afternoon. Lupin Apparated only to be knocked back by Tonks, who hugged him and brought a strange pigment to his pale face. It seemed that Remus Lupin still found it difficult to be with her when there was another person around, not to mention a friend's relatives.
Bill had invited everybody from the Order, except for Kinsgley Shacklebolt, who kept working for the Muggle Prime Minister, and Severus Snape, for more than obvious reasons. Dedalus Diggle arrived by the Knight Bus, along with Arabella Figg and other members of the Order.
"I had to take the Knight Bus, since I couldn't perform any magic, you know," said Mrs. Figg to Harry after she greeted him. "How are you doing, Harry, dear?"
It was so strange for Harry to speak again with Mrs. Figg. For so many years he had considered her just a normal old—rather eccentric—woman, when in fact she had been a Squib all the time.
"Just normal," replied Harry, and curiosity won over him. "How're my uncle and aunt? Did you see them?"
"Oh, they're fine. They appear to want to make clear you never really lived there," she grimly grinned.
"Wouldn't be surprised," admitted Harry.
Pierre Delacour, Fleur's father, explained via the translations of his daughter that their guests should be arriving in a matter of hours, precisely one hour before the beginning of the ceremony in fact. That was Mrs. Weasley's cue to renew her reign of terror and enslave everybody around to help her in cleaning up the backyard and assembling a nice place for the wedding.
Just who could resist Molly Weasley's invitation? Only the Delacours, and just because they were the main guests. The rest of them were rapidly put to work, most of them willing to help while others just complained.
Just like Ron was doing.
"—truly hope this ends quick. Work, work, work, this never ends, really," he muttered under his breath while he attempted to conjure folding chairs out of nowhere. "How can you do that so easily?" he snapped at Hermione, who was flicking her wand and producing fancy results.
"I don't complain, and so I can focus entirely on the chairs," she just said, arranging the newly generated seats and attempting some more. "If you don't want to bring chairs, then help Harry with those paper streamers."
Harry was next to them, aiming his wand and yelling the Cintas spell. He had managed to keep the desired color despite the feelings within him. Ron stared at him and recalled his green tulips. Watching the Twins approach, he rejected the idea and focused on the folding chairs. He managed to conjure a little stool.
"That would be a great seat for Pidwidgeon," smiled Fred.
"If he ever had a seat, of course," smiled George.
"Don't you two have things to do?" muttered Ron.
"We certainly have," the Twins nodded. "And right now we have to talk to Harry."
"In private," added George. "Can you come with us, Harry? Just for a moment."
Harry exchanged a look with Ron and Hermione and shrugged. Then he followed the Twins past Hagrid and Olympe (she was conjuring marble pillars with a complicated spell and Hagrid was one–handedly picking them up and arranging them) and headed to the back of the house, next to the chicken coop where, that very same morning, Harry had had his last words with Ginny.
"Nobody around?" asked George.
"None that I can see," said Fred, peeking over his shoulder. "Hopefully Moody won't return from his patrol so soon. I don't trust that magical eye."
"What are you two up to?" Harry asked, his curiosity growing bigger.
"Ahh, yes," Fred went on, now adopting a business–like tone. "Harry, Harry, dear Harry . . . How could you!"
"What?" he asked, surprised.
"How could you hide it from us!" said George.
"What are you—?"
"Well! We reckon you will be going to a picnic trip with Ron and Hermione, then," smiled George.
"Unless, of course, our infallible Extendable Ears are working the wrong way," grinned Fred.
"Which they're not," winked George.
Harry felt his heart skip a beat.
"You mean you heard—?"
"Well, you were yelling so hard—"
"—we just couldn't help to wonder—"
"—what had made you express your opinions so politely clear," they finished.
"So you just crept upstairs to find out?" he asked, not avoiding a smirk.
"What do you think?" Fred grinned. "Now, what's that Hermione talking about? Risking your lives and everything."
Harry felt he couldn't lie to the Twins. Fred and George had in the past demonstrated they were excellent friends, so he told them the basic points of the story, containing the Horcruxes and his plans to find and destroy them. He also told them of the way Ron and Hermione wanted to join him.
He would have expected a more serious reaction, though.
"Blimey, that would be some adventure!" George beamed.
"I don't think this is some fancy game," Harry warned. "It's more of the Life–Or–Death proportions, see."
"Harry, Harry, don't you think we are not worried," Fred picked up next. "But hey, who says you all won't be in the same danger staying in one same place?"
"Yes, in times of crisis you have to move!" George resumed. "So . . ."
Each Twin produced a briefcase from behind their back and flipped them open. Harry approached a bit and stared at their contents. There were strange bottles and gizmos in there.
"What is—?"
"This is, Harry, our friend, Weasley's Wizard Wheezes—"
"—new and improved—"
"—Protection Section!" ended George.
"And that means . . . what, exactly?" asked Harry.
"That means we offer to you—"
"—no charge, of course—"
"—our newest and more advanced findings on the branch of Defense Against Dark Arts items and accessories. If you go out on an errand against You–Know–Who, then we would be proud that you finish him with a little aid from You–Know–Us," Fred winked.
"For instance, look at this," George took a large jeweler lens and placed it in his eye. It looked as if a small telescope would be sticking from his head.
"So you look funny, huh?" Harry smirked.
"I look funny, yes, but you look suspicious," grinned George. He removed the lens and handed it to Harry. "You try."
Harry had to take his glasses to put it on, and he was amazed to look through the jeweler lens. Fred and George were surrounded by a purplish aura.
"Aura Antics Acknowledger," Fred widely smiled. "They show an Aura around people with the color of their intentions. Here, look at the color chart," he handed Harry a parchment with a list of colors. Purple meant "Very sly and helpful, you should trust him/her".
"Wow. Yes, this could come in handy," said Harry, taking the Aura Antics back and replacing his glasses.
"We based it on the Sneakoscope, see," said George while exploring the contents of his briefcase. "Now, check this out . . ."
Harry was given to try a series of amazing devices. There was one small bag of sugar cubes which, the Twins claimed, had a slight amount of Veritaserum added, so to trick a suspicious character during a nice tea–time. They also showed him a few magical rings and necklaces that could deviate some minor jinxes and also cast special protections on the bearer. There was also a collection of flare wands (better than Lumos, only they burned down after use) and Cloaking Creams.
"Based on Canary Creams," grinned George. "Only these make you temporary invisible. Not as good as an Invisibility Clock, of course, but handy if you are in a hurry. You'll have around five or so minutes after eating one, but don't have too many in a row."
"Why not?" asked Harry.
"Stomachache," said Fred, wincing in memory. "Severe stomachache."
Next they showed the rest of their stuff, and it was amazing. Harry thanked them deeply and couldn't explain in words how in debt he felt; the twins each raised a hand.
"No, no, Harry. We are still in debt with you."
"Yes, I'd say we are nearly five hundred, eighty–nine Galleons and five Sickles in debt," George smiled.
"But there is something we would seriously like to talk with you," said Fred next, and in a strange, serious tone. "Ginny."
Harry's smile vanished. "What about her?"
"Extendible Ears, Harry. Now, spit it out."
Harry groaned, but he felt he couldn't refuse. He admitted their wish to leave alone and he emphasized Ginny's unbendable determination to stick with him all the way.
"That's our little sister," said Fred, a tone of odd sadness. "Stubborn and resolved. Got it from mum, you see. Only she mixed it with our cunning mischievousness."
"Well, mum admitted she once got caught out of bed when she was at Hogwarts, remember?" George smiled a bit. "Walking out with dad, you see."
"Oh, yes, you are right."
"But anyway, Harry . . . what can we say?" sighed George. "We only hope you two take care of each other, really."
"Pardon me?" Harry blinked. "She's not coming. I already told you about this morning—"
"Aahh, Harry, Harry . . . You just forgot—"
"—that she also inherited our cunning mischievousness," they said, and winked at Harry.
–o–
Whatever Fred and George meant in their chat with Harry, he couldn't understand it. Ginny was genuinely sad, that morning, and they hadn't spoken since then. He was glad the Twins had such an open mind about the subject, but at that moment he felt they were a bit innocent; such as strange as the word "innocent" may look related to them.
Hagrid introduced Buckbeak to the guests in general, but making sure to keep a prudent distance between one and the others. Most of them, having visited number twelve, Grimmauld Place, had already met the creature, but others (the Delacours included) were amazed and astonished at the view.
"Jus' stare in his eye an' don't blink. Then bow at him. Treat him with respect and so will he," Hagrid said to Pierre and Monique Delacour. Next to him, Madame Maxime translated to French. Harry watched at the distance how Fleur's parents bowed respectfully at Buckbeak, and was relieved to see Buckbeak bowing at them.
Next to Harry, still setting up the reception area, Ron and Hermione also stared at the group around Hagrid.
"Hagrid told me he was planning to bring Grawp," muttered Ron.
"How good he realized how bad would that have been," whispered Hermione.
"Actually . . . Grawp didn't want to come. Otherwise . . ." Ron trailed off, but it was clear that the three of them were thinking the same thing: Hagrid's Giant half–brother attending Fleur's wedding. Fred and George would have given their right hands just to see that.
"But he brought Buckbeak," said Hermione, a tang of suspicious in her voice. "How . . . nice of him. Isn't that true, Harry?"
Harry had no way to avoid that tone. "Perhaps," he said.
"Buckbeak won't be able to carry the three of us," Hermione went on, her razor–sharp logics butting in. "Considering our current sizes, I'd say he could only carry two at a time."
Harry had had enough. "Very well. I was planning to fly away with Ginny, but that's history, okay? Cut it out, Hermione. Please. I already promised I wouldn't."
Hermione said nothing else, neither did Ron. Harry thought he had said too much, for now his friends were aware he was planning to leave them behind. Instead, he focused on the arrangements for the wedding. That was enough work and distraction.
Harry stared longingly at the Burrow. He had seen Ginny walk in about an hour ago, accompanied by Gabrielle, Fleur, and Mrs. Weasley. They were talking about trying on some dresses, which would be a hard battle to combine both Fleur and Mrs. Weasley's preferences.
As the time of his farewell approached closer, Harry began to panic. Sometimes his mind blurred from work and landed on strange worlds within his thoughts. He saw himself fighting Voldemort in a fierce battle. Ginny appeared out from nowhere and jumped into Harry's arms the moment Voldemort fell back, defeated.
"Harry!"
"Oi!"
Mr. Weasley had just brought Harry back to reality.
"Harry, look at that! It's incredible!" Mr. Weasley said.
Harry noticed everybody was looking at the sky, some of them pointing with his fingers and shouting excitedly. Harry looked up and gasped.
Dragons.
Not one. Not two. Not three. Five dragons.
At first he panicked, but he suddenly noticed the way they were flying. The dragons formed a large V and were lead by a team of broom riders. The dragons turned and spun and formed new shapes in mid–air, then blasted roars of fire and flew close to the ground. When they did this, Harry caught the face of the main broom rider, and he didn't need Bill's shout of glee to recognize the man on the broom.
"Charlie!" Bill yelled in happiness. "Charlie, you big dragon–breathed fool!"
Charlie waved a hand as he blurred past and immediately headed up. The rest of the riders and the dragons followed. Then he made them perform a most stunning set of airborne maneuvers that made some of the guest hold their breaths. Harry looked around to see their amazed faces. He had never seen Hagrid smiling so widely. Then he turned his eyes to the Burrow.
His mind went into oblivion. There she was, standing close to the Burrow's main door and looking up with a smile. Ginny Weasley, wearing part of a stunning pale gold dress she was sure to use during the wedding. She had her hair rolled up in a bunch very similar to McGonagall's, only it looked extremely good on her. Harry felt his heart melt at the sight of her. So what if a pack of fire–breathing dragons were flying right over his head? He only had eyes for Ginny Weasley.
She noticed his gaze and slowly looked at him. Their eyes met, and even though the distance there was a tight connection between one and the other.
"Whoa!" many screamed, breaking the fragile connection. Harry looked up in reaction, but he just saw five dragons forming a large ring of scales. When he looked back at Ginny, she had disappeared into the house.
A bit annoyed and greatly disappointed, he forced his eyes back up to the dragons. Despite that the show was incredible, he was no longer in the mood to watch.
Another of the broom riders took Charlie's place as he dived toward the expecting crowd. The dragons formed a new pattern and began to follow the other riders to a place away from the people.
"Harry! Good to see you!" Charlie said, landing smoothly. "How did you like the show?"
"You prat! You did bring a pack of dragons!" yelled Ron, looking halfway to a heart attack, but sounding amazed and happy.
Charlie was received with several pats on the back and many compliments for the unbelievable show. Mrs. Weasley made her way to her son and squished him in a tight hug, but then she pulled hard on his ear.
"What did I tell you about bringing such dangerous things here?" she roared, though she smiled all the way.
"Harry, Harry, look!" Hagrid called. "Yer won't believe this! I am so happy . . .!"
If Hagrid was happy, Harry thought, it shouldn't bode any good.
"It's Norbert! Harry, it's Norbert!" Hagrid said.
That was enough for Harry's curiosity. He turned and saw Hagrid running toward the pack of dragons. He noticed the leader of the formation was, indeed, very similar to the dragon Hagrid had briefly had during Harry's first year at Hogwarts. Only much... much bigger.
Charlie, however, confirmed that the teddy–bear–eating hatchling and the lead dragon were the same creature.
"Yes, that's Norbert," he said later on. "Thought Hagrid would like to see him again. Ah, don't worry, mum, my friends will escort the dragons back in a few minutes. I just wanted to shock my brother before his wedding."
The dragons left half an hour after they arrived. They would have left quicker, but Charlie had to help his friends detach Hagrid from Norbert's jaws. Or vice versa.
"He remembered me!" Hagrid would said within tears. "He even kissed me good–bye and everything . . . He's such a good dragon . . ."
With Hagrid's promise to Norbert of going to visit him in Romania, he waved at them and then they were gone. Olympe helped Hagrid to sweep away some lost tears and then things calmed down greatly.
–o–
It was one hour before the wedding started. The sun would start going down by then. A romantic sunset wedding, so Fleur had called it. The backyard of the Burrow was unrecognizable, free of trash and everything.
The guests of the Delacour side began to Apparate and arrive in other ways. Most of them used Portkeys and materialized within 'CRIME SCENES'. Mrs. Weasley had told her husband not to do it again, but it had been too much of a temptation for him.
"But I just had so much tape remaining! Why waste it!" he claimed.
Fleur's guests were totally different from any of Bill's. There was French in the air that mixed with English. Mrs. Weasley hoped the different languages wouldn't mess up the moment of the Vows. Harry caught Hermione exchanging some words with several of the French guests. It seemed she had learned part of the language in that old vacation trip to France.
Mrs. Weasley ordered everybody to get showered and dressed for the event. She was so tense nobody in his right mind would have ever thought on disobeying, not even the Twins.
Once showered and dressed with his dress robe, Harry climbed down to the kitchen on time to catch the conversation Auntie Muriel was having with Mrs. Weasley and Fleur.
"—you will do fine, believe me, dear," Muriel said. Harry spotted Fleur wearing a breath–taking white bride dress. If she wasn't using her Veela powers in that moment, then Harry didn't want to think what had just crossed through his mind like a white–hot iron bar.
"I am so nervous," Fleur stuttered. "T–Thank you for the beeaut'ful tiara. It's so nice of you . . ."
"My pleasure," Muriel nodded. "You sure you can handle that, Molly?"
Mrs. Weasley was dealing with some last–minute additions to Fleur's dress. "Of course I can. I just need those pins in the right place and . . . here . . ."
Harry walked past them unnoticed, but he did catch two pairs of eyes staring at him as he opened the door. By the corner of his eye he saw both Gabrielle and Ginny gazing at him.
It was strange to see little Gabrielle softly blushing, but Harry's sight focused on Ginny. Was she sad? Was she happy? He couldn't tell. There was a gentle gleam in her eyes.
He placed a hand on the doorknob and stopped under the doorframe. He turned his head at both girls. Gabrielle gave a little giggle, but Ginny remained motionless.
He fixed his eyes in hers. She fixed her eyes in his.
Was she sad?
Was she happy?
Harry couldn't tell.
"Y–You look good," he whispered, a fact given she was now wearing the full dress.
"Thanks," she softly whispered. Harry saw her vaguely biting her lower lip. "You . . . too."
Harry nodded and, not really knowing what else to add, resumed his path and closed the door after him, feeling a horrible weight growing larger within his soul.
The ambience outside was of sheer expectation. The backyard was illuminated by tall torches and glowing fairies flying everywhere. It looked like the most romantic scene for a confession of love. A long, red carpet had been extended along the path to the improvised altar where the Vows would be said. At both sides of the carpet, rows of folding chairs had been arranged, ending each row in a beautiful marble pillar, the same ones conjured by Madame Maxime and all of them illuminated by hanging candles and torches.
Charlie came over to pat Harry on the back.
"Magnificent evening, really. The sun's starting to go down. Soon all these lights will prove themselves. How're you feeling, Harry?"
"I'm fine," Harry muttered his lie. He was happy for the whole wedding thing, but his recent words with Ginny brought him down a bit. "When will it start?"
"Oh, as soon as the Bonder from the Ministry arrives," said Charlie in a casual tone. "The Ministry is responsible of every marriage between wizards, see, so they provide the Bonders in order to keep track of most of the cases." He then smirked. "I'm Bill's Best Man, by the way. And mum has to Entrust him to Fleur. Wouldn't miss that for anything."
Harry nodded and looked around, not sure what to do or how to keep there. He was feeling very nervous, he wasn't sure why.
"I don't think this is suggestive at all," said a panicky voice nearby. Harry turned to see Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks in a dialogue. He was wearing what could be called his most luxurious dress robe, given the fact of the average quality of any of Remus Lupin's wardrobe items. Tonks was wearing a fetching light pink dress that matched her hair perfectly. "So it's a wedding, what of it?" Lupin said, using an avoiding tone Harry found rather amusing.
"Well, think of the future. You, me, and a Bonder," smiled Tonks, who was also finding Lupin amusing.
Remus seemed to choke. "Isn't this a bit too . . . hasty?" and Harry could sense the quiver in his voice.
"Oh, if you think you can hold me back until you get 'too old' for me, then you are dead wrong. I'm following you to the grave, I am," smiled Tonks.
Harry felt strangely cheered at those words. Lupin gasped in disbelief, but it was obvious he felt flattered. So Tonks wanted to be with him, no matter if she was much younger. And she was resolved to die for him, it seemed. Harry had never met such courage and—
But he had.
Ginny was like Tonks in that sense. So was Harry like Lupin.
That nasty shiver crept up Harry's spine one more time. His mind was playing tricks on him, so he began to walk aimlessly around the backyard, greeting some random guests and trying hard not to think on Ginny in the way he kept thinking. So good for Tonks and Lupin, but they both were adults. Not like his situation at all.
"—seen you staring at Fleur's best friend all the time!" protested a female voice Harry recognized as Hermione's. He turned and spotted her talking to Ron, both dressed elegantly. However, Ron seemed fearful.
"Look, 'Mione, if you haven't noticed, she is quite stunning and—" Ron tried, but it was obvious even for Harry that it had just ignited the fuse.
"You are such a superficial creep!" Hermione said in a tight whisper. Harry slunk behind a couple of French guests who weren't following the argument, and began to hear more clearly.
"I am not superficial!" Ron defended himself.
"Yes, you are! First Fleur, then Gabrielle, now Fleur's friend!"
"Oh, excuse me! Viktor Krum, anyone? Or you rather prefer Gilderoy Lockhart? Yeah, he was smart and that's why you liked him, didn't you?"
Hermione turned red. "That was—I didn't—!" She breathed deeply a few times, then retorted: "I had young day–dreams with Lockhart, very well, but I dumped Krum when we realized we didn't really have much in common. What can you say about yourself, Won–Won?"
It was Ron's turn to become red. "When will you quit reminding me of Lavender?" he nastily said.
"What's the matter, she still hops into your dreams?" Hermione attacked. "Maybe she could take my place and lecture you about not being such a prat and—"
"She can not replace you!" Ron shouted. One second after he said that, both he and Hermione remained quiet.
"W–What?" she said.
Ron shifted uneasily. "Right, so . . . Listen . . ." He sighed and looked down. His shoes suddenly seemed most interesting all of a sudden. "Listen . . . I'm sorry. I just lost it, okay? But she can not replace you. No one can. You can't possibly be replaced. Not even by Fleur. She has her beauty, fine. But you . . . What can I say . . ."
"Just say the truth . . ."
Ron's head slowly rose at the gentle sound of Hermione's words. Harry saw, after moving around a bit, that Hermione's eyes were sparkling.
"Well . . ." Ron hesitated. "Well . . . You are smart. I give you that." He paused. "You are very smart. Actually, I don't think I ever met anyone smarter than you. And . . ." He looked back. Harry was keen to hide behind a nearby pillar before Ron could meet his eye. "And . . . and you are noble. You can clearly recognize what's good and what's bad and, well, despite sometimes you are really annoying at pointing that out . . . besides you sometimes really get on my nerves when you get all chatty and blabby about the correct use of this or that spell . . . I really think I'd prefer that annoyance rather than just plain beauty. I don't know if you—"
But Ron's words were interrupted by a hand placing on his shoulder and slowly making him turn to face a pair of female eyes and a quivering lip. They didn't need to share words while they kissed, they didn't even try.
Harry stared at them for a moment, then slowly retreated and resumed walking. All around him people where talking and having a good time. He looked over his shoulder and stared at Ron and Hermione. Then he looked away toward Lupin and Tonks, now holding hands and looking at the half–moon appearing on the incoming night. Harry gulped and looked away, now in Hagrid and Madame Maxime's direction, only to find they were also together, talking cheerfully.
Everywhere Harry looked, a happy couple could be spotted. And every newly discovered pair made Harry feel more and more lonely, totally cast away and ignored. The happy giggles weren't for him, neither the hugs nor kisses. As he looked around, he felt himself an intruder in such a happy place.
The world could be a nasty place, sometimes . . .
–o–
(To Be Continued...)