A/N: Bill and Fleur's wedding is loosely modeled after the Jewish wedding ceremony. I'm not Jewish, but I've always thought that their wedding ceremony is magical; they seem to have the right idea about what marriage is all about.

Disclaimer: The characters and back story are all JK Rowling's. I simply have an overactive imagination.

Chapter 3

Restless

Ginny Weasley was restless. She was stuck at home helping her mother and Fleur get everything ready for the wedding. Other than Bill, she was the only Weasley child at home. Charlie was helping the Ministry, Percy was doing who-knows-what, Fred and George were in Diagon Alley at their shop, and Ron got to go with Harry and Hermione. She was not so much annoyed at her siblings, as at the fact that this left her spending most of her time with Phlegm. Fleur wasn't as bad as Ginny originally thought she was, but she still had her moments.

They had postponed the wedding a week. Molly wanted to make sure everything was perfect. Bill and Fleur didn't care when they got married, just as long as it happened. Ginny looked out her bedroom window at the back yard. Her father and Bill were decorating a chupah with their wands. Ginny understood it was supposed to represent the home that the couple would build together.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" said a voice, startling Ginny. She gasped, "What?" and turned around to see her mother standing in her doorway with a content smile on her face. "The chupah…isn't it beautiful?" restated Mrs. Weasley. Ginny smiled, "Absolutely."

Though she couldn't it see from her window, Ginny recalled all the detail that was worked into the wood. Bill and her father had carved the posts to look like ivy was etched into the wood itself. The chupah was about eight feet high and had an arched top that also had ivy carved into it. The posts that supported it were about six inches in diameter and had the same shape as ice cream does when pumped out of one of those Muggle machines. Right now, Mr. Weasley and Bill were busy decorating the chupah with white roses and real ivy.

Mrs. Weasley was standing directly behind her daughter now and began to speak as she looked wistfully at the structure her husband and son were attending to lovingly. "Arthur and I stood under a chupah when we married. He had read about it in some book about Muggles. Not all of them use one, but some do. I thought it was a lovely idea. I told Fleur about it and she thought that it was very romantic. I wish we still had the chupah that your father and I used, but it was destroyed during a rather terrifying storm that blew the shed apart shortly after Charlie was born." Mrs. Weasley sighed and began more cheerfully, "Well! I better go finish talking with Fleur about what to serve at the reception. She insists on having bouillabaisse. She's definitely going to have to explain that one to me." Noticing her daughter's slightly horrified expression at the mention of the French dish, Mrs. Weasley said calmly, "Don't fret, Ginny dear, there will also be chicken or steak or both, and plenty of side dishes." Ginny looked relieved.

"Thank goodness. I don't think I could eat that fish stew again, no matter the fancy name for it. I tried it in my third year and did not care for it at all," Ginny punctuated her statement with a shake of her head as if saying 'no way'.

"Neither does Bill dear," said Mrs. Weasley with a wink. "Molly?" called a voice from downstairs. "I'll be right there, Fleur. I was just chatting with Ginny." Ginny looked quizzically at her mother, "She calls you Molly now?" Mrs. Weasley shrugged and said, "Well, it felt weird for her to call me 'Mrs. Weasley' now that she will soon be my daughter-in-law and I'm not ready for her to call me 'Mum', so 'Molly' works just fine. I'll leave you to your thoughts for now, but I want you to head down soon and help." Mrs. Weasley patted her daughter on the head and left the room.

Ginny turned so she was looking at her father and brother again. After a few minutes, Bill must have felt someone watching him so he turned around and smiled and waved when he saw that it was his baby sister. Ginny smiled and waved back at her brother, hoping that her smile hadn't been a grimace instead. She hoped she got used to the scars on his face from what that beast had done to him. Thinking about Greyback made Ginny think about the night that Dumbledore died and the Death Eaters' attack on the school. All of these thoughts, of course, led her straight to Harry. She missed him so much, despite how reasonable their separation was.

She remembered Harry telling them all about Dumbledore and how Draco Malfoy had threatened the headmaster, but how Snape had been the one to do the horrible deed. A chill ran down her spine as she thought about how she had seen Snape almost everyday for five years, never liking him or fully trusting him, but trusting Dumbledore's faith in the supposed ex-Death Eater.

"Ginny! We could really use your help down here, sweetie!" called Mrs. Weasley. Ginny shook herself out of her thoughts and called back, "Coming, Mum!" As Ginny trudged down the stairs she thought of how she would see Harry at the wedding. She thought about seeing him again after a period time that seemed very long to her and then maybe even dancing with him. As she thought of him, each of her steps became lighter than the last.

Draco Malfoy was furious. He and his mother were in Switzerland living as Muggles so as not to draw attention. It was Snape's idea. Draco would rather have had to face Voldemort than not be able to use magic. They were staying in a hotel in Zurich. He recalled when Snape told them what they would have to do.

Draco arrived with a CRACK at Malfoy Manor. His mother pulled him to her in a fierce hug. He pushed her away, "Pack up, we have to leave immediately. Snape will be right behind me." He ran up to his room to begin packing necessities like underwear and hair gel. Narcissa was right behind him, "What happened, Draco dear?"

Draco took a deep, irritated breath, "I couldn't do it. Snape did it instead. Voldemort will be wanting a word, no two, and I really don't want to hear them." Just then, a resounding CRACK could be heard coming from downstairs. "That must be Snape. I must thank him," said Narcissa. "Thank him for what? For ruining my chances of gaining some power and getting back at Potter for putting dad in Azkaban!" Narcissa didn't hear him; she was already on her way downstairs to meet Severus. Draco followed.

"You must leave immediately. The Ministry and the Order will look here first," Snape handed Narcissa a slip of paper and some strange colored money, "This is the address of a hotel in Zurich, Switzerland and some Muggle money. It's British pounds, but I'm sure someone at the hotel can direct you where to exchange it for Switzerland's currency. Keep a low profile. This means no magic unless your life depends on it," he waved his wand, producing two hard plastic IDs and passports. "Here is some identification. You will need it to check into the hotel and to exchange the money. I must go to the Dark Lord now. He will not know that I know where you are. I can no longer be a spy. He will be furious, but I think that Dumbledore's demise will soften the blow considerably," he grimaced at these words. "I hope I never see you again," and Snape disappeared with a CRACK.

"Let's go, Draco. Look at this address, think on it really hard and hold on to my arm." Draco thought to himself, 24 Quartz Lane, 24 Quartz Lane, 24 Quartz Lane. He felt the familiar, unpleasant feeling of being pressed from all sides and then he was standing on a street in front of tall, run-down building with a blinking sign: Last Stop.

They looked over their identification. Their new names were Julie and John Smith. They lived in Birmingham. Their birthdates were the same. They then studied the Muggle money. It was simple enough, there were numbers on it. Draco looked at the building and resigned himself to living like a Muggle for a while. He found himself rooting for Potter, as long as Potter didn't catch up with him. He looked to his mother, "Well, Julie, are you ready?" She sighed, "Do I have a choice?"

It turned out there was a bank across the street from the hotel. It had been closed, though. The clerk at the hotel had allowed them to stay the first night even with the British money. They were not busy at all. They had been there for a week now and Draco was losing his mind. Once his mum had studied the Muggle money closely, she was able to replicate it. He knew they weren't supposed to use magic, but they had to eat and have shelter, right?

Draco formed a routine of waking up, showering, going to the hotel restaurant and watching people. Though he hated to admit it, he found Muggles fascinating. He had always ignored him, now they were his only entertainment. There were only about six other guests at the hotel. He only saw them in the morning and the evening. They looked to be tourists. He also watched the box with moving pictures. He didn't really understand what anyone was saying, but the bartender kept it on sports most of the time. Draco figured out football quickly. It wasn't as exciting as Quidditch, but it was better than staying in the room and being fussed over by his mum.

He found that when he lost his attitude, the bartender would sneak him a pint, so he built a rapport with the man. Draco never forgot the man was a Muggle, but he found he didn't care as long as the pints kept coming. One day while watching the telly, the man switched over to the news while tennis was on the sports channel. Suddenly Draco felt the man staring at him. "Wot?" The man pointed at the television. There, on the screen, was a picture of Draco. He guessed by the man's look of cautiousness that the word underneath the picture would be translated as WANTED by Interpol.

A/N: This one was harder to write than it seems. Sorry it's so short. There is more to come, but it will probably take awhile. I start classes next week.

Coming up: Harry speaks to Dumbledore, Ron and Hermione visit Luna, and Bill gets married.