Chapter Two

"Honestly, Mum, can't I just leave my bloody hair down?" Ginny Weasley wound the offending strands around her tan fingers. She tugged angrily.

"Don't swear, Ginny, and no, you can't. It's going up, and it'll look lovely. You just have a great deal of it." Molly Weasley flipped through the worn copy of Glamour for Witches, as though a new hair spell would suddenly appear in the hand-me-down tome.

Ginny sighed. "Mum, you're not going to find anything. It's hopeless."

Fleur turned to Mrs. Weasley. "Molly, eet ees no trouble at all. Ginny can leave 'er 'air down eef she weeshes." She tugged at her own long silvery locks. "What am I do to, though? I weesh to look beautiful for Beel, and…and…" She sighed. Ginny rolled her eyes.

Mrs. Weasley patted Fleur's hand comfortingly. "You'll look lovely, Fleur." She had experienced quite the change of heart towards her daughter in law to be, after Fleur's declaration of love for Bill despite his new deformities. Mrs. Weasley looked at her daughter doubtfully. "I don't know, dear, it'd be rather inappropriate to have one of the bridesmaids with her hair down when even the bride doesn't, don't you think?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. Her mother could be painfully old fashioned when she put her mind to it. Sometimes she was surprised she wasn't made to wear a chastity belt. 'That wasn't fair,' she silently berated herself. 'Mum is just trying to make things nice for Fleur, and she's trying to show she's not playing favorites. But I still don't want to put it up,' she mentally added.

Fleur was smiling slightly. "Non, eet ees not a problem at all. Ginny ees vaary lovely and she should embrace eet. She 'as wonderful 'air."

Ginny grinned, pleased in spite of herself. Fleur was growing on her, slowly but surely. "Well, that's setteled then," she said, leaning back against her headboard. "Nice and easy. No fussing. No having to look up stupid spells."

Both Fleur and Mrs. Weasley also looked somewhat relieved. Ginny's hair was three times as thick as Fleur's, who, as a part veela, had rather thick hair herself.

Just then, there was a knock at the door.

"Come in!" called Mrs. Weasley.

Hermione Granger entered, her bushy hair wild and flying in all directions. The three women sitting on the bed looked at each other, and Mrs. Weasley reached for the spell book as Ginny rose to give her faintly pink friend a tight hug.

Dinner that night was a lively affair. Bill and Charlie set up two tables outside like they had three years ago, and Mrs. Weasley cooked one of her famous meals. Even Fleur, who had looked a bit apprehensive at the amount of food at first, ate huge portions. Harry smiled and laughed with Fred and George, and whispered and joked with Ron and Hermione. Ginny and he shared glances occasionally, but she was mostly talking to Charlie.

By the time the pudding had been cleared away and the dishes levitated into the kitchen, everyone was dead on their feet. Most noticeably tired was Mrs. Weasley, who was trying vainly to hide her yawns. She insisted numerous times that everyone else should go to bed while she stayed and did the dishes, but the majority finally won out. Mr. Weasley practically had to carry her up the stairs, and Hermione, Ron and Harry volunteered to do the dishes and finish in the kitchen.

That was why Harry's new watch, a birthday gift from Mrs. Figg (it thankfully was devoid of cat ornamentation) read 'You should be in bed' and he was still standing over a sink, casting scrubbing charms.

"I don't understand it," muttered Ron. "Mum can usually be done this many dishes in an hour…and there are three of us." He shook his head sleepily, and muttered another charm.

"Well, she's been doing this for years, Ron. I would think she's have it down to an art by now," said Hermione, yawning. "Oh goodness, I'm about to fall asleep on my feet."

Ron yawned too. "H-h-hell, Hermione, go to bed. Harry and I can finish up."

Hermione raised one eyebrow, and Ron's heart skipped a beat. Hermione didn't notice him catch his breath.

"You think I'm going to leave you and Harry here washing dishes by yourself, in the kitchen?" She smiled. "We'd come down in the morning to find the wedding cake gone and you two sleeping on the couch with frosting on your chins."

Ron tried not to think of frosting and Hermione at the same time, but it was hard.

Harry chuckled. "You'd have to worry more about us falling asleep face down in the cake at this point, Hermione." He flicked his wand to cast one last sudsing spell, and mumbled the incantation. Unfortunately, he slurred a little on the last syllable.

Jets of soapy water began to shoot from Harry's wand with the force of a fire hose. Hermione shrieked and cast a hurried shield charm around the wedding cake and the rest of the wedding preparations laid out on the table.

"Bloody hell, Harry, turn it off!" yelled Ron, waving his own wand. "Expelli-"

"Ron, DON'T!" yelled Hermione, but it was too late. Harry's wand flew from his hand and began shooting off the walls of the kitchen, propelled by the force of the water. Hermione moaned and ducked as the wand narrowly missed her head.

"Oh no!" She cast a silencing spell on the kitchen. "There. No we won't wake anyone up," she yelled to Harry and Ron. Ron opened his mouth to respond and got a mouthful of suds. He spluttered and choked. Harry reached over and pounded him on the back. Purple and orange bubbles spewed from his mouth.

"Bloody FUCKING Merlin!" he roared when he could finally breath again. Harry laughed, and was promptly rewarded with a faceful of soap bubbles Ron had scooped off the counter. Harry blinked once behind his soapy glasses, turned, and splashed Hermione, who yelped in surprise. She looked torn for a moment whether to scold or join in on the fun. Ron wondered apprehensively if they had gone too far. But his anxiety melted away when she jumped on his back, and rubbed soap in his hair from behind.

"It's war!" cried Ron, exhaustion forgotten in the face of a potentially wet Hermione.

The wand was still flying around the kitchen at breakneck speed. It shattered a vase high on a shelf, which broke the three friends from their play and turned their minds to the more serious matter at hand: the capture of the rogue wand.

Hermione whipped out her own wand and pointed it at Harry's.

"Obfirmius!" she cried. Her wand locked onto Harry's, following its path around the kitchen.

"Where'd you learn that spell?" asked Ron with amazement. He's been reading up on his spells over the summer, but hadn't come across that one.

Hermione managed to blush even while tracking the wand's progress with quickly flickering eyes that flitted all over the room. "I invented it," she muttered.

Harry let out a whistle. "Impressive. That'd be helpful during a quidditch game." He looked momentarily wistful, remembering he wouldn't be playing this year.

Ron looked at soaking wet Hermione, and loved her very much at that moment. She was a bloody genius. A bloody genius who was dead sexy in a wet hoodie and tank top. He grinned to himself. God, but he loved her.

Hermione finally whipped her wand. "IMMOBOLIOUS!" she cried loudly. Harry's wand froze in mid air and slowly descended into his waiting palm. He flicked it, and a last bubble popped out of the tip. He grinned.

"Brilliant, Hermione. Thanks."

Hermione blushed again and cast drying charms on the kitchen, but left the three of them dripping. She turned to undo the shield charm on the table and slipped on a wet spot on the floor. Ron lunged forward and caught her as she was hitting the floor. He swept her off her feet and into his arms. She clung to Ron in her wet sweatshirt and jeans, which were sticking to her legs like they were painted on. Ron tried extremely hard not to stare at her thighs, outlined with little left to the imagination. She seemed oblivious of the effect she was having on him and hugged him again.

Hermione took in Ron's thin soaked white t-shirt, clinging to every muscle in his torso. His hard abdomen tapered down into thin hips, and dripping white fabric clung to the outline of his stomach. Her stomach did a little flutter, and she shivered.

Harry was watching them both with amusement in his eyes. He had cast a drying spell on himself already, and shook his hair out. He tried to smooth it down, but it jumped right back into its usual unruly mess.

"Are we done here?" he asked, after a few moments of silence.

Ron and Hermione seemed to come to themselves, and they hurriedly separated from their embrace, blushing and mumbling. Harry's grin almost didn't fit behind the hand he used to hide it.

Hermione cast a drying spell on her clothes, and hugged Harry. Her eyes were growing bright.

"I love you dearly, Harry," she whispered. "You're like a brother to me. I…I don't want to think about what might happen after tomorrow. I just-" She turned away from Harry slightly to hold her hand out to Ron, who took it. "I just want to remember us. Like this. I want to have something to be able to hold on to and remember if I need it."

Ron, who was still soaked, nodded slightly. His throat felt uncomfortably tight. Him and Harry. Harry and Hermione. Him and Hermione. All of them together. He loved both Hermione and Harry in very different ways. Suddenly, on impulse, he stepped forward and pulled both his best friends into a huge hug. Hermione seemed stiff at first, but then she wound her arms tight around both Ron and Harry and squeezed. Harry buried his head in Hermione's shoulder, and wrapped an arm around Ron's shoulder. The three of them stood there, not caring that Ron was slowly soaking the other two again with his wet clothes, not caring if they were sobbing quietly. Because at that moment in a very clean, lemon-y smelling kitchen in the Burrow, it was just about them and their friendship.

" 'Night, Hermione."

"Goodnight, Harry," said Hermione. She turned to Ron. "Goodnight. Ron." She twisted a frizzy lock of hair between her fingers. " 'Night."

Harry and Ron watched her shut the door to Ginny's bedroom behind her.

Harry looked at Ron, who was staring at the oak door as if he had never quite noticed it before, and punched his best friend on the arm.

"Ow!" said Ron. "What'd you do that for?"

"C'mon," said Harry, and led the way up to Ron's room.

A dark cave. A ruined house. A ring. A cup. A locket. A locket. A laugh. Light. Green light. The Mark was over the Astronomy Tower. The Mark was over 4 Privet Drive. The Mark was over the Burrow. Red eyes. Crucio. Pain. Graveyard. Neither can live while the other survives. Bone of the father. Kill the spare. Cedric, Sirius, Dumbledore wide-eyed. Cold. Death.

Harry gasped and woke up, sweat streaming down his face and running down his chest. He had deep fingernail marks in his palms from clenching his fists.

Dream, just another dream. He sighed. And not even a dream from Voldemort. Just a regular nightmare, scaring the shit out of him and leaving him short of breath with tears in his eyes.

"Damnit," he whispered. Pushing back his covers, he swung his legs over the side of the camp bed. He wouldn't be able to go back to sleep for at least an hour. Glancing at the lump of blankets in Ron's bed that was snoring, he decided to go down to the kitchen. He could use some hot chocolate.

Harry looked around the room for a shirt. He wasn't about to go down to the kitchen of Mrs. Weasley's house in the middle of the night without a shirt. She would tell him he was too thin and try to fatten him up. Harry wasn't feeling particularly hungry.

The only shirt Harry could find without waking Ron up was one of Ron's shirts, and that meant it was roughly three times his size. Harry resigned himself to the fact that he was going to have to wear a bright orange tent if he wanted to avoid being force fed by the ferocious Mrs. Weasley.

Harry lit his wand dimly and shuffled down the stairs. A light was on in the kitchen. Charlie Weasley was sitting at the kitchen table. Bill Weasley was pacing anxiously behind him.

"Bill, will you sit down and drink something? It's too late - or too early - to be doing this."

"Easy for you to stay! You're not getting married tomorrow."

"Are you saying you're getting cold feet?" asked Charlie with a yawn.

"No! But what is she is?" Bill sounded pained.

Charlie sighed and leaned back on two legs of his chair. "Mate, if she hasn't gotten rid of you yet, I think you're safe."

Just then, Bill looked up and noticed Harry standing in the doorway. "Harry."

Charlie looked up. "Hi Harry."

Harry nodded awkwardly. "Hi Bill, Charlie. Sorry…I didn't mean to eavesdrop on you."

Bill waved a hand. "You're not eavesdropping. What brought you down here?"

Harry shrugged. "Couldn't sleep. I wanted some hot chocolate."

Charlie chuckled. "You're wearing Ron's shirt?"

Harry pulled at the orange material reproachfully. "Yeah. I figured it was better to be wearing a huge thing than to have your mum trying to force feed me."

Bill grinned at him and began to say something. Just then, there was a flash of green light and the fireplace roared.

Harry, Bill and Charlie all had their wands drawn within seconds. There was a cough from the fireplace.

"Drop your wand!" yelled Bill, his face twisting. "Identify yourself!"

Another cough. "Blimey, Bill. It's me. Tonks."

Bill didn't lower his wand. "What did you spill on me the first time I met you?"

Tonks sighed, dusting her pink hair off. "I didn't spill anything on you the first time. What'd I spill on you the second time?"

Bill lowered his wand. "Pumpkin juice."

Tonks stepped out of the fireplace. "Wotcher, Harry. Hey Charlie." She looked around, sudden fear appearing her face. "Where's Remus?"

The three men exchanged apprehensive glances. "I haven't seen Remus for days," said Charlie, slowly. "And he's not here now."

"Not here?" repeated Tonks slowly. "No. Remus said he was Apparating right behind me. Where is he?"

"He's not here, Tonks," said Harry slowly.

"Where were you? What happened?" asked Bill, pulling out a chair for Tonks, who was pale.

"Death Eaters. We were…we were staking out a camp when a scout must've spotted us. I swear, I didn't step on a branch. But oh Merlin…" She took a deep shuddering breath, and began speaking in a voice of trained calm. "The Death Eaters came out of nowhere. At least ten of them against two of us. When we couldn't hold them off any longer, Remus pulled a Flooport out of his bag and pushed me in. He said-" She broke off, and tears seeped out of her eyes. "He said he was right behind me!"

The kitchen was in dead silence as Tonks wiped her eyes. "I have to go back," she said, getting up. Harry noticed her stagger. "Bill!" he yelled.

Bill caught Tonks as she stumbled. A red stain was spreading over the cotton shirt she wore under her leather Auror spell vest.

"Shit," said Charlie.

"I'll get someone," said Harry, turning to the door, but Charlie was already up the stairs.

"Get her to the sofa," said Bill, helping Tonks to stand up. "C'mere, help me." He grunted with the effort.

Harry grabbed Tonks around the waist. He felt blood under his fingers. "Shit."

Tonks moaned. "No…I have to go back. Get off me." She lifted her fists. "Get the hell off me. I'm going back for Remus."

"No way in hell," gasped Harry, as one of Tonks' punches connected with his stomach. Even seriously wounded, the girl could hit.

"Please, Harry…" Tonks was sobbing now. "Bill. Please. You don't know what they do to people. You…Ilsa Lewis, last week…"

Even though Bill was trying to navigate Tonks to the couch he frowned. "Ilsa? I was at Hogwarts with her. What happened?"

Tonks' chest heaved with a sob. "The Death Eaters captured her last month on a mission. We…they sent…they sent the Auror department her body last week. It was…unrecognizable. We didn't…no one even thought it was a body at first. Then we got an owl. I didn't see it, but I heard Kingsley vomiting in the loo after. He read the note."

Bill's hands were clenching around Tonks' arm almost unconsciously, as if he was in pain.

Tonks sobbed again. "There…wasn't even a…head."

Harry felt his heart drop completely out of his chest. He felt as cold as if there was a Dementor in the room.

Bill dropped Tonks' arm, and kicked the wall.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" he screamed, and sank to the floor. He began crying quietly.

Tonks' crawled off the sofa and over to him. "Bill…I'm so sorry. I know you knew her. She…she was a good friend. I miss her too…but...Remus…what if…oh gods please…no. Please no."

Bill wrapped an arm around her, and the two huddled together on the floor, crying quietly.

Suddenly, there was a pop.

Harry looked up, wand drawn. Remus Lupin stood in the Weasley living room, battered, bloody, and missing half of his hair. His scalp was bloody, and there were long scratches down his face, chest and arms. But he was standing of his own volition. He crossed the room in two strides and pulled Tonks to her feet.

Tonks cried out in pain at the sudden movement, but when she realized who had pulled her from the floor she let out another sob and buried her face in Remus's shoulder.

"Thank Merlin, thank Merlin…oh gods, oh Remus…thank you. You're alive…thank you, Merlin. Thank you." She pulled frantically on his robes, clinging to him.

Mr. Weasley hurried into the living room, followed by Charlie. Both stopped short at the sight that greeted them. "Remus!" cried Mr. Weasley. "Thank God you're safe!" He took in his friend's appearance, and his eyes sharpened slightly. "What happened?"

Remus shook his head to indicate he did not want to talk about it. A tiny fleck of blood hit the carpet. Tonks looked up.

"No," she hissed. "What happened? Who was it?"

Remus sighed. "Greyback and…and Wormtail." He admitted.

Harry clenched his fists. He had let Wormtail go. This was partially his fault. "I'm sorry," he said.

Remus seemed to notice Harry for the first time. He did a double take.

"My God," he breathed, sunken eyes taking in a disheveled Harry in the half lit room. "You've never looked more like James."

Harry blinked back sudden tears. His father was dead, and now his parents' betrayer had hurt his father's only remaining friend.

"I'm so sorry," he said again.

Tonks let go of Remus, who crossed the room in two strides and pulled Harry into a hug. "It's not your fault," he whispered harshly. "If we'd really wanted to change your mind, we would have. Sirius would have tried harder. You were right. You were right in what you did, Harry, and don't forget it. It's not your fault."

Harry shook his head. "I need to go back to bed. Unless you need me for something." He felt vaguely ill.

Mr. Weasley looked worried. "No," he said, putting a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Go back to bed, Harry. Get some rest. Big day tomorrow, after all, eh?" He attempted a smile, and gestured at Tonks and Remus. "And now we have two early guests! We'll just get them cleaned up a bit and no one will be the wiser!"

Harry tried to smile, but his lips wouldn't move. He nodded. He knew it meant not to mention what had happened.

"Good night, then," he said, and walked back upstairs.

Harry paused on the landing outside of Ginny's room. Hermione was going to be in danger this year, because of him. Ron would be, too. He couldn't do it. He couldn't lead them into death.

As he got back into his camp bed, Ron's now-bloody shirt still on, he glanced at his other best friend's sleeping form. He couldn't let it happen.

He wouldn't add two more bodies to the pile.

A/N: Here, my dears, is a longer chapter. Audrey, my muse, has decided to be nice and help me out. Thanks, Audrey. I appreciate it.

So. This chapter was...a bit violent. A bit fluffy. A bit...of everything? No. Because there's no D/G yet. But there will be. Oh, there will be. I promise. In abundance. Stick around.

Also...I humbly apologize for my brutal butchering of Fleur's accent. If anyone really talented with French accents feels charitable, I'd love the help. Thanks.

UP NEXT-

A wedding!

A tragic murder!

A prodigal son!

A ruthless and cold Hermione kicking ass and (literally) taking names!

And...the first steps of a long journey!

Stay tunnnnnnnnnnnned.

Oh, and review. That'd be nice as well. Really nice, in fact.

-Julia