Chapter Two: The Wedding
"We've been trying to wake you for hours, mate," Ron said increduously.
Fred and George nodded on either side of him.
"He's right," added Fred, "Another hour and we were going to rev up Dad's sparkplug collection."
"Mum didn't want us to make your hair stand on end," George added, rolling his eyes. "But we had to remind her that it's already standing on end."
Harry laughed hoarsely, "Remind me to thank your mum."
"What were you dreaming anyway?" asked Ron curiously as he sat on the end of his own bed.
"We thought you might be having a nightmare -- " said Fred.
"Or another vision --" said George anxiously.
"But there was no retching and screaming, so . . ."
Harry laughed dryly. If it hadn't been a nightmare then it was borderline. He told the others how he'd dreamt of the twins' prank wine, of how he and Ron had gotten drunk and Hermione had cried. He was careful to leave out the part about Dumbledore. He didn't want them to look at him like the rest of the world -- as if he was unstable.
"Oh, Hermione. She's here too," moaned Ron. "I can't get her to leave me alone. Honestly, the woman's gotten even more mental!"
"If that's possible," snickered Fred.
"You'd better get up," Ron said, ignoring his brother. "The wedding's in another hour and Mum wanted to tackle your hair beforehand."
Harry pulled his sheets back. "Yeah, alright."
The wedding was in the most beautiful place anyone could think of: the Weasleys' wild garden. The weeds were decorated with tiny red and white flowers, curtisy of Fluer's mother. Fairies darted in and out of the bushes, giggling as they zoomed past people's ears.
"Reception's not bad," Ron muttered to Harry and tipped his glass to his lips.
"Wait, wait . . ." Harry took Ron's glass and tapped it with his wand. Nothing happened.
"What the bloody hell . . .?" demanded Ron, confused, as he took his glass back.
"Just checking."
"You're getting worse than Hermione. Mind you, she'll be wanting to get married next." He smiled nervously across the way at Hermione, who was dressed in a soft pastel blue with her bushy brown hair smoothed into a bun.
She stood with Ginny and Gabriel Delacour under a tree magicked into the garden for the occasion. The three girls were smiling and giggling rather strangely. It seemed the wedding had had that effect on all of the women. Mrs. Weasley, for instance, kept bawling and laughing at intervals. It was driving Mr. Wealsey up the walls.
Hermione spotted Ron's nervous smile and waved at him coyly. Ginny and Gabriel giggled.
"Married?" yelped Harry, his body tingling as he realized Ginny was smiling demurely in his direction. "Do you really think that's like Hermione? I mean, she's usually pretty levelheaded."
"She's not herself lately. I'm telling you, mate, this wedding's got them all bonkers." Ron nodded wisely and sipped from his glass.
"You're right, Ron. It's like they've all forgotten . . ."
Ron went rigid, watching Harry over the top of his glass. "Look, let's not think of it. You'll have plenty of time after the wedding to be moody and vengful."
Harry shot him a dark look but melted into laughter at the grin on his friend's face. "Yeah, yeah, you're right."
They spent the next few minutes reminiscing before they were approached by Hermione and Ginny.
Hermione greeted Ron with a kiss on the cheek. Ron blushed crimson right up into his hairline.
"It was so beautiful, wasn't it?" Hermione said brightly. "I thought I'd cry when Bill gave his vows."
Ron rolled his eyes, remembering his soaked dress robes. "You did cry."
"Fluer's accent was so thick, I thought she had a cold," said Ginny with slight distaste. "I've tried to like her, honestly, but after the ceremony she patted me on the head like a dog and said I'd turned out better than she could have hoped in fine clothing."
Ron frowned at her, "Will you give it a rest?"
"Oh, come on, Ron," snapped Hermione with a hot light in her eye. "She's your sister-in-law now! It's weird to have a crush on her!"
"I DON'T have a crush on her!"
"Uh-oh," muttered Ginny to Harry as Ron and Hermione glared at each other.
"Let's move off before the crap hits the fan," Harry suggested. He offered his arm, "Shall we?"
Smiling, Ginny took it, "Of course."
But they had barely gotten ten feet away from the explosion that was Ron and Hermione's argument, when a great black dog bounded toward Harry and sent him staggering back. Harry stared, unable to believe his eyes, as the dog slobbered on Ginny. But when he blinked again he realized --
"Sorry, there, Ginny -- Harry -- DOWN FANG!" Hagrid boomed. "Yeh might ask what a dog is doin' at a wedding, but I didn't want to leave ol' Fang alone. He's bad off 'nough as it is what with bein' burned an' all --" Hagrid paused in the act of the yanking Fang's collar, frowning with concern. "Alright there, Harry? You look pale."
"Yeah, yeah, I'm alright . . . excuse me, Ginny . . ."
Harry wasn't alright. He hurried away, trying not to think of Sirius, feelng sick and sad and suddenly very tired. His nightmare about the prank wine had left him restless throughout the night, tossing and turning, and it was only when he had begun to dream of Dumbledore that he'd gotten any rest at all. Now the lack of proper sleep was catching up to him, and he staggered quickly through the crowded garden, past concerned murmurs and whispers, banquet tables, and the band, and shut himself up in the Weasley's old shed with a loud creaking snap of the door.
Once alone in the cool shadows of the tiny wooden shack, Harry slumped down the wall and buried his face in his hands, breathing hard into his knees.
"Forget Sirius!" he told himself through his teeth. "He's dead! He's dead! And so is Dumbledore!"
Then he remembered with a pang that Dumbledore had spoken to him with concern in this very shed only the year before.
Outside, he could hear the guests' murmurs rise and hoped against hope that no one would come to check in him.
"Just a moment's peace . . ." he slurred, and in that moment's peace had nodded off against his folded knees.
"Harry? Harry!"
Harry opened his eyes to find his old headmaster seated quite comfortably on an upturned mop bucket opposite him. He nearly yelped, but covered his mouth and stared.
"Professor? Am I dreaming again?"
"Yes, I'm afraid you are, Harry. It's funny how much of our lives we spend dreaming . . ."
"But you lied to me before!" Harry accused. "You said it wasn't a dream!"
Dumbledore shook his silver head patiently, "My boy, if I'd told you it was a dream, would you have listened to me?"
"No . . ." Harry admitted. "But even though I listened, I still didn't understand what you were trying to say! What was it about the sunrise waning . . ." He broke off in confusion.
"Logic. Yes, very few wizards have it. I had hoped to expound upon the importance of logic in the wizarding school system, but alas, Voldemort became a little more important . . ."
"Professor," said Harry, bracing himself against the wall behind him, "Why do you keep visiting me in my dreams?"
"The dead have many ways of reaching the living, Harry. I merely chose the more effective way in your case -- dreams. It really is a shame how poor your sleeping patterns are."
He smiled, and Harry couldn't help but smile in return.
"But WHY are you reaching me? What is it you want?"
"What does any professor want?"
"For us . . . for students . . . to listen?"
"Bravo, Harry, bravo, " Dumbledore said cheerfully. "Now, before any one of those good people outside these doors come and wake you -- tell me what you heard in your last dream -- assuming, of course, that you listened." The blue eyes twinkled.
"You told me . . ." Harry paused uncertainly before he remembered. "You told me that Voldemort put a little of himself into me the night he tried to -- well, to kill me."
Dumbledore nodded serenly. "Go on."
"And . . ." Harry stared as it dawned on him, "And that there were seven horcruxes . . ."
Dumbledore smiled and nodded his approval, "Now you see. Now you'll get somewhere."
"But . . . if I want to destroy all the horcruxes, that means . . ."
Dumbledore's expression was grave. "Exactly, Harry. Exactly."
"Bloody hell! You're out again?"
Harry was jolted rudely out of his dream as Ron shook him roughly by the shoulder. He felt his friend slap his face hard on each cheek and brushed him off.
"Knock it off, Ron! I'm alive!"
Ron snorted, "You could've fooled me. Everyone out there is worried. I tried to tell Mum you were fine, but she badgered me so much I finally had to come wake you. Is . . . "
Ron paused as he realized a crowd of gossipy witches stood easedropping nearby and shut the doors of the shed behind them, cloaking Harry and himself in gloom.
"Is there something going on you should tell me, mate? What's happening to you? I was scared a moment that you'd had a vision and gotten sick."
Harry hesitated about telling Ron, but remembered Dumbledore's advice that he share secrets with his friends. They were his family afterall and keeping secrets from them was too much like isolating himself.
"I've been having these dreams . . ."
"More great news," said Ron miserably. "Are they visions like before? You seeing You-know-who again?"
Harry shook his head, "No, no, they aren't bad dreams or even visions . . ."
Harry paused as the shed door opened again and Hermione and Ginny peered in with concern, causing the young wizards to squint and sheild their eyes in the sunlight.
"You -- stay," ordered Ron, jabbing a finger at Hermione. He pointed at Ginny, "You -- out --"
Ginny scowled, but Herminoe whispered something in her ear and she left peacefully, smirking at Ron.
"What did you say to her?" demanded Ron suspicously.
Hermione merely elbowed him aside. "Shush, nevermind that now -- are you alright, Harry?"
"I'm fine. I was about to tell Ron --"
"Harry's having funny dreams again," Ron said with a grave expression that Hermione shared at the news.
"Visions or --"
"No, dreams," Harry said, wishing they weren't all crammed in the shed.
With the two of them there, he wasn't sure he could even stand. He had to look up into their concerned faces from his crouched position on the floor and the shafts of light streaming through the ceiling made him squint.
"I haven't been seeing people murdered or tortured like the year before last. I've been seeing . . ." Harry paused and took a deep breath. "I've been having visits from Dumbledore."
He looked up, dreading the expressions they would exchange, dreading what they both might be thinking. But Ron and Hermione only looked concerned and attentive. Harry felt a rush of gratitude toward them and continued.
"And just now, when I was walking with Ginny, I thought Fang was Sirius."
"Oh, Harry," moaned Hermione, looking as if she wanted to hug her friend.
"I won't say you're cracking up," Ron said bracingly. "You've always had weird stuff happen to you -- but are you sure you just aren't tired? I mean, what did Dumbledore say?"
Harry stared at his own knees. Could he really tell Ron and Hermione what was making his breathing irregular even now? That he was a horcrux? That he had to die? But it couldn't be what Dumbledore meant . . . Maybe he was wrong . . .
Neither can live while the other survives . . .
He'd always thought that had meant that only one of them could live -- him or Voldemort. Even Dumbledore had thought that.
"I'm . . ." he hesitated and swallowed, "I'm not sure I can . . ."
"You can tell us anything, Harry. You know that," said Hermione, twisting her gown nervously in her fingers.
With his hand on her shoulder, Ron nodded. Harry smirked. They already looked like an old Weasley couple.
"Wot?" Ron said, seeing Harry's expression.
"I was just thinking . . . You guys are my best friends. Today's a happy day and I won't ruin it."
Ron nodded uncertainly, "Alright. But you will tell us, won't you?"
Harry smiled grimly, "On my life -- no! make that on Voldemort's life!"
Ron winced, but he and Hermione laughed as they headed out of the shed and back into the party.
The rest of the wedding reception went smoothly -- or as smoothly as it could go once Fang got over-excited. The large boarhound had healed rapidly in the hospital and it seemed his speedy recovery had added to his energy. He got so excited that even Hagrid could not control him, and broke his leash, running full-tilt toward Fluer.
Bill tried to sheild Fluer and take the blow for her, but to no avail -- Fang gave a mighty leap and pinned the newlyweds down. He attacked a sobbing, screaming Fluer with a series of large laps and finally gobbled her cake and plate down whole, while Bill sat up and began to laugh nonstop.
"Fang! Down! Down! What's the matter wid yeh?" cried Hagrid.
"Oh, honey," Bill laughed, helping his cake-covered wife up as she continued to sob and curse and complain. "You'll look back on this and laugh!"
"You bet she will," sniggered Fred to Harry. "George and I have gotten plenty of good pictures."
Once the guests were dispersing and the newlyweds had finally been bid farewell as they departed for their honeymoon, a calm fell over the Borrow that Harry felt it had not known for a long time.
He and Ron slouched in the Wealsey's livingroom with their ties loose as if they'd just come from a long day's work and Hermione joined them from the kitchen with a cold glass of pumpkin juice.
"Now that that's over," she said and pulled her hair loose.
Harry stirred uncomfortably in his chair. Watching Hermione as she drank from her glass with her hair long and full behind her brought back memories from his first dream in Ron's room. He could almost remember . . . he could almost remember being somewhere with Hermione very private . . . But, no, he'd never dream something like that about Hermione. Hermione was Ron's girl -- had always been -- and, besides, he cared about Ginny.
Ginny chose that moment to enter the room and sat comfortably in a chair near the fire with dignity. It was clear she was stillannoyed by Ron's rudeness, and she watched the three of them as if expecting them to reveal something to her.
"Yes?" snapped Ron when Ginny continued to stare with probing brown eyes.
"What went on in the shed?" Ginny asked without preamble.
Ron and Hermione glanced nervously at Harry.
"Hermione, whatever you said to get her to scram, say it again," muttered Ron.
"I told her you scratch yourself with your wand when you think no one's looking and that one time you accidentally turned the crouch of your pants yellow."
Harry bit his lip to keep from laughing while Ron went beet red and glowered at Hermione.
"What?" said Herminoe innocently. "It's true."
"Harry," Ginny looked straight into Harry's eyes, "I just want to know that everything's alright with you."
Harry wished that he could say it was.
"You know me -- nothing's ever alright," he said, half-smiling.
"I expect you'll feel better once we get back to school," Ginny said slyly, but no one picked up on the testing tone of her voice.
The other three went rigid and exchanged guilty looks.
"I knew it!" Ginny said, eyes firing.
"Ginny . . ." began Ron in exasperation.
"If you're not going back to school then what's going on? I won't tell anyone!" She ignored Hermione's nervous silence and Ron's impatient grumbling and appealed to Harry.
"Ginny, I didn't ask you to come because it's too dangerous. I didn't even want Ron and Hermione to come --"
"But we are," Ron said firmly.
"Should've known you were being noble again," Ginny said fondly, but she sat back in her chair and scowled to herself. "Coming with the three of you will be no more dangerous than sitting at Hogwarts like a duck in a pond."
"Ginny, you're not of age! And what about Mum and Dad? They'd kill me if they found out I'd dragged my sister along to get killed -- I'd kill me!"
Hermione nodded fervently, "Besides, you should keep on with school."
Everyone stared at her.
"You never change," said Ron in amazement. "You-Know-Who's power is at an all-time high and all you care about --"
"I care about Ginny just as much as you, Ron!" Hermione snapped. "I'm only thinking of her well being. "
"Fine." Ginny shrugged. "I won't come. But, Harry, would you keep something for me?"
Harry looked around at her, pleasantly surprised but puzzled all the same.
"Sure."
Ginny crossed the room to Harry, kissed her fingers, and touched Harry's lips. Then she moved from the room, leaving Harry feeling quite miserable.
"We'd better watch her," said Ron, following Ginny's back with his eyes as his sister moved toward the stairs. "She's usually more stubborn than that, which means she's got some other motive planned."
"So we're leaving tomorrow, are we?" Hermione asked, her voice strangely highpitched as she stared at the other two.
"As soon as possible," Harry answered.
"And you know where we're going?" Ron asked.
"Not unless one of you know where Zacharia Smith lives."
Ron sat boltupright, his face twisted in a sneer. "That Smith bloke? That idiot with all the -- " He rocked in his chair and moved his legs, imitating Zacharias Smith's bouncy stride.
Harry nodded.
"Why the bloody hell are we going there?" Ron demanded in disgust.
"Because," said Harry, "wherever Voldemort went (Ron winced) that's where we'll go."