How High the Moon

.ψ.

Chapter Twelve: Cadha'te Seòl

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I set out on a narrow way many years ago
Hoping I would find true love along the broken road
But I got lost a time or two
Wiped my brow and kept pushing through
I couldn't see how every sign pointed straight to you

Every long lost dream lead me to where you are
Others who broke my heart they were like northern stars
Pointing me on my way into your loving arms
This much I know is true
That God blessed the broken road
That led me straight to you

-'Bless the Broken Road', Rascal Flatts

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Her mouth sticky with butterbeer.

He tried to be very careful and gentle about it, though his mind seemed a bit fuzzy and he knew he was fumbling the soft pressure on her lips. She didn't pull away, which he was infinitely grateful for, but she didn't do anything else either. She was dead still and stiff as a board sitting there on the stool. He had no idea what to think of it, except that it was very nice to kiss a girl again.

Wallachia was rather short on Homo sapiens of the female variety and Charlie hadn't had a steady girlfriend since taking a position there. At any other time thoughts of his fresh grief would have been painful, but at the moment he was far too wrapped up in the chaste, brief kiss to acknowledge it.

His thoughts were far from dragons and broomsticks as their lips broke apart. Stella stared at him for a moment, then nervously studied the ground.

'Did she like it or not? Why did I do that in the first place?' He wondered. 'Well I know why I did it, but why did I go through with it? Idiot, Charlie, complete idiot!'

"I, uh … I should be getting back … See ya Charlie." And with that she ran off.

Not another word, just 'see ya Charlie' and that was that.

He watched her locate Tonks and Lupin and a very drunk girl who looked a lot like Stasia and Bresa. After a few minutes they left, and he spent the rest of the night waiting for Harry and Ginny to get tired of dancing.

'Just brilliant, Charlie!'

.ψ.

It was the night before the wedding and Harry Potter sat in the open window, absently watching Crookshanks hunt the Weasley's garden gnomes.

"I wonder if I'll ever get to see the damn cat catch one." He muttered thoughtfully and realized that the idea of dying wasn't as scary as it used to be.

I mean, he wasn't going to go and throw himself in front of the Knight Bus or anything so stupid, but sometimes he still woke up from dreams about that room in the Department of Mysteries. Dreams about the whispers, and the strange things Luna still said about it when her father stopped by the burrow. He still had no idea if he should take her seriously or not –it might end up being another case of Luna being Luna-, but something told him that she might be right. What if they were all really waiting for him, just on the other side?

Still, the idea that he might never sit in this window again, never feel mothered by Mrs. Weasley or get to kiss Ginny one last time was kinda sad.

And besides, if he didn't leave tomorrow night the world was effectively fucked.

Not to say that it wasn't fucked even if he did go.

What did he know about saving mankind? It wasn't exactly a subject on the Hogwarts curriculum. Wasn't the hero supposed to be confident and daring? Didn't the bloke who rode in and saved the day always have a plan? He definitely didn't feel like a hero.

Whose bloody idea was this, anyway? Did some moron just wake up one day and decide, 'hey, let's make Harry Potter savior of the world!'?

If he ever laid hands on the wanker, the two of them were going to have a friendly 'chat'.

His murderous plans were put on hold when Myra stumbled into the room with a massive stack of notebooks and folders. She dropped the heavy load and started to light the lamps before she noticed that he was in the room.

"Oh, hey kid. Didn't see you there." She sat down and started to sort out her papers.

"Hi Myra. What's that?"

"Hmm? Uh, research … bunch of bumf from work, test results, that sort of thing. Boring stuff, kid. I think the General's gonna have to find a new chess partner tonight. I'm swamped."

Why the hell did she keep calling him 'kid'? It made him feel like he was five years old. Alright, so Mad-Eye Moody called him 'boy' and 'sonny' a lot, but Mad-Eye did that to lots of people. And besides, he respected Moody. Harry didn't know exactly how he felt about Myra Estrella, but respect probably wasn't a good word for it.

It wasn't that he didn't like her, precisely. After they both got over their less than friendly first introduction, she was actually pretty nice. She smiled a lot, made a much better chess partner for Ron than him or Hermione (even if she did loose most of the matches anyway) and she was dead useful when it came to books about Voldermort and horcruxes. A nagging voice in the back of his head wondered why she had books about stuff like that, but he ignored it for the most part. Besides, she was Tonks' sister. The only real problem with Myra was that he just didn't know her, and she didn't know him, and he didn't have the time or the energy to spend getting to know someone while trying to save the fucking world.

Ron and Hermione trickled in soon enough, then Tonks, and finally Ginny. He turned away from the window and turned his thoughts away from tomorrow when that beautiful witch patted the loveseat next to her. Ron sat down on the floor and started explaining the pieces to Tonks (the pieces did some of the explaining themselves) while Hermione grabbed a book and settled into the armchair behind his head.

"So … the horsey makes an L shape? What a stupid idea! Who came up with that?"

"It's not a horsey, it's a knight."

"Look's like a horse to me."

"It's a knight."

"Ahh! It bit me! The bloody chess piece just bit me!"

"Well that's what you get for insulting them. They're a temperamental lot, they are." Ron said sagely.

Ginny clambered over and snuggled into Harry's lap. He smiled and hugged her close while they watched Ron pry the knight off Tonks's finger and for a little while he forgot all about saving the world and just enjoyed the way she felt when she was in his arms.

They spent a couple hours up there wasting time and watching Ron run circles around their green haired friend on the chess board. She muttered and cursed and made ugly faces at her pieces. One of the bishops actually fell over in shock when she morphed to look like an angry vulture. It seemed like she would never catch on until she jumped up in the middle of a game.

"Ha ha! I did it!" Tonks crowed and did a wild little dance of jubilee around the battered coffee table.

Tonks being Tonks, she quickly tripped on the rug and fell out of sight with a thud that rattled the windows.

"King me." Came a grunt from somewhere under the peeling leather sofa.

"King you? What are you talking about?" Ron looked confused.

"That's checkers, Nyms." Said Myra from behind a progress report.

"Bugger." The sofa moaned in defeat. "Ron Weasley, you are the worst chess teacher I've ever met."

"I don't think it has anything to do with the General, Nyms."

"Myra!" Ginny tried to look scandalized for her friend's sake, but Harry could feel her shoulders shaking against his chest from trying not to laugh. "That's not nice!"

"Ah, but it's true!" Said Myra with a grin, finally looking up from her books and quill.

"I resent that!" Said the sofa. "You are a mean person, Myra."

"What're you talking about? I'm sweet and kind hearted and filled with good will for my fellow man!" Myra smiled and batted her eyes stupidly. Even if her jokes were really morbid most of the time, she was still pretty funny.

Tonks dragged herself out from under the sofa. "You're full of something all right."

"Like I said, good will for my fellow man. And I'm delicate and gentle and charming too."

"You're about as charming as a warthog, Myra. You're so charming that the rest of the warthogs kicked you out of polite warthog society."

"And modest. Did I mention modest?"

Tonks chucked a pillow at Myra. Myra tossed it back and hit him and Ginny instead.

"Sorry, I've got a terrible aim. What are you… Ginny, put that pillow down!"

Soon it was all out pillow warfare. Harry had to admit that even he was smiling by the time they called truce and flopped down on the floor. While everyone was still catching their breaths, Myra got up and rustled around in her bag. She came back after a minute with a couple of books and a serious look on her face.

"Right. I know we've been avoiding this all night, but we all know what's gonna happen after the wedding." Harry could feel the smile slip right off his face. Had she told someone? Was Remus going to try to stop them or something? Damn it, they never should have trusted her!

"Oh don't look at me like that, guys. I'm not gonna give you a pep talk!" She tried to make a joke. "I just thought there were a few things you oughta have."

He was still skeptical, but maybe she had something they could use. Merlin, he hated hearing himself think about people like pawns on Ron's board, but that didn't mean he wasn't curious.

"Fenton's History of Warfare." Ron turned the pages of the book she handed him. "Wait, is this a muggle book? I don't get it."

"Well General, if you want to lead troops, you should know your military tactics. That bastard certainly isn't going to fight inside black and white squares." Myra never called Voldermort anything except 'that bastard'. It was almost as annoying as her calling him 'kid' all the time.

"What, you think I'm going to get people to listen to me? Even if I wanted to 'lead troops', why would anyone follow me? Not saying I want to, mind you."

"You're a good tactician, Ron. If you can figure out how to get off the chessboard and into the real world with that, you'll save a lot of lives when Harry goes after that bastard. I don't go calling you General for no reason."

"I'll think about that." Ron looked a little pale, but he had a firm set to his jaw that said he was determined too. That quickly changed when he went back to the book. "Hey, muggles really do go after each other with pointy sticks? Brilliant! Fred and George'd love this!" Ron stared at the unmoving cartoons of little knights on horses.

Ginny snorted at her brother and paged through 'A Beginner's Guide to Real World Acting Techniques'. He personally didn't think she needed it, since she could already fool her mother when she wanted to, but Gin looked pleased and that was enough for him.

"This one's for you, Hermione." Myra handed her a really dusty, foul old book, just the sort of thing that made 'Mione go nuts. (He was never going to figure out women.)

"The Seven Branches … by Bridget Wenlock." Hermione traced the title like it was something blessed by the pope.

Myra must not have caught on that she liked it. "It's not really much use for catching that bastard, but I thought you might…"

She got cut off when suddenly attacked by a squealing mass of hair. "OhMyGodMyra! Thankyouthankyouthankyou! Arithmancy is my favorite subject! This is Bridget Wenlock! OhMyGod!" He couldn't help smiling just a little when he remembered his own experience on the end of one of these attacks.

Myra finally pried Hermione off her throat. "Glad you like it." She sputtered. "Thought you might want something for your downtime. Well, something besides making out with Ron, that is."

Silence struck the room. His two best friends turned beet red and wouldn't look at each other. Tonks and Ginny were silently laughing. Harry was torn between the two.

It took Myra a minute to catch on, and then she started to stutter some apology. Hermione cut her off saying she had to get to bed and rushing out of the room and Ron ran out on her heels.

"Hey Ginny, wanna follow them?" Tonks asked his girlfriend with a wicked gleam in her eye.

"Duh!"

And that was how he ended up alone in the room with Myra.

"Uh … right."

"So … you um, you were pretty quiet tonight kid."

"So were you." Harry snapped, instantly on edge. He did not want to talk about tomorrow, not with her, not with anyone. What, did she think he was going to break down and confess his deepest fears to some stranger?

"I had notes to look over. Nother batch of my test subjects bit the dust, and I still don't know why. On top of that, I've got to sing at the wedding tomorrow and I barely know all the lyrics to the songs…" She started to ramble, obviously not catching on that he wasn't in the bloody mood for this bung.

"And I'm off to save the fucking world. What else is new?"

"Oh. Right." She laughed nervously. "I really gotta start thinking before I say this stuff, don't I?"

"You might try that." He growled. "It's not really a good idea to piss off the bloke with the wand, especially when he's trying to figure out how to kill off Voldermort."

Myra wasn't fazed by his tetchiness. "Well, when Ginny told me about your plan, she said that Dumbledore told you to go back to your family, right? The man was missing a few of his marbles, but he was still pretty quick. I'd say you might find something there."

"Of course. The clues to the biggest secret in wizarding are just bound to be hiding out in the shrubbery on Privet Drive. Stupid me."

She rolled her eyes. "It was just an idea, kid."

"I don't want to go back. They aren't my family, they're just my relatives."

She nodded and said nothing, and he kept talking before he could stop himself.

"Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia just put up with me because … I don't even know why they put up with me. Every time they see me I get the happy sensation that they're looking at cow dung. My real family is right here, damn it!"

Why was he telling her this all of a sudden?. If she was anyone else, he knew that he wouldn't have but... There was a sense of … sameness … that he couldn't quite pin down and didn't really want to think about. There was something about her that seemed … familiar. Impossible, he was just tired.

"Its up to you kid." She said after a while. "But either way, I thought you might like these."

She handed him a little canvas bag. He opened it and found a few crumpled gray feathers.

"Buto feathers. They're kind of hard to come by so be careful when you use them, but if any of you ever get hurt and need a healer all you have to do is touch one, repeat the incantation, and say my name."

"What's the incantation?"

"Cadha'te Seòl."

"Cad-"

"Not while you're touching them now, you lump! You'll waste them."

"Right." He put the feathers back in the bag. They did sound useful. "That doesn't sound like any incantation I've ever heard."

"I guess it wouldn't, would it? It's really old magic, really powerful. You don't even need a wand." That sounded like something Dumbledore told him about once. "The story behind it is pretty neat, really. Back when history was just beginning, there was a belief that every human being had a path, a 'Cadha', that they walked down in life. The old ones believed that when they used this kind of magic, they were leading or calling another person's path to intersect with their own. They named that calling Seòl, and they believed it was something very sacred."

"Oh." Well, that was weird. What was he supposed to say to that? What did he care what those loony old nutters thought about 'life paths' and 'sacredness'?

"Personally I think its all rubbish, but it does make a nice story."

Myra wasn't so bad after all.

"Look kid, I gotta get to bed, but if you ever need someone to talk to … well, I spose you'd rather talk to your friends, but sometimes its nice to have a blunt opinion once in a while." She looked at him, then stood up and grinned. "Ahh, I don't know what I'm talking about. Goodnight, kid."

"Night."

Maybe he would do that someday.

.ψ.

Noise from a waiting crowd in the back garden filtered up through the window where you could see a nearly cloudless sky. The sound of a cello warbled among the voices. Merton Graves was a good man to know for a wedding.

Five young men were gathered in a cramped bedroom to see off one of their own. Five young men, come together one last time as free spirited bachelors to celebrate the memories of their childhood. Five young men bravely pushing off from shore and into uncharted waters.

Five young men, where six should have stood.

Charlie felt the loss of Percy the most deeply. Percy had always been his favorite little brother, with his strict morals and deep philosophical thoughts. The bloke was stubborn to a fault though. Brave enough to leave home for what he believed, but too proud to admit it when he was wrong.

Yes, Charlie wished Perce was there with them.

But he had more important things to think about now, namely getting Bill into his dress robes without snagging anything on his scars. It was hard to do with the twins teasing him like mad.

"What, Floo-Floo wouldn't let you wear your jewelry?" George cackled.

"No, no earrings for Billy." Fred agreed. "But if you ask nicely, we could shine up your head with some cauldron cleaner."

"Yeah! Then you'd still be nice and sparkly." Ron chimed in.

"Stop moving, Bill, or this thing's gonna rip." Bill growled; whether at him or at the twins or at Ronnie, Charlie had no idea. Bill seemed to growl a lot more since waking up.

"No, keep moving Bill. We all know how much you want to take your vows starkers."

"Does Floo-Floo know about your embarrassing little birthmark yet?"

There was more growling from somewhere inside the dress robes. "When I get back from the honeymoon, you three are dead."

"Did you hear that, George? I think he just threatened us."

"Rubbish, rubbish. Floo-Floo wouldn't let him touch 'a 'air on our preecious 'eads', now would she, Ron?"

"I don't know about you two, but Fleur adores me." Ronnie had grown very overconfident about all women's opinions of him since he'd started dating that Hermione girl. "Bill'd be sleeping in the broom cupboard if he offed me after I rescued her pet peacock from Crookshanks, but you two? I don't think she's ever forgiven you for those 'U-No-Poo's' you put in her pudding."

"We were only testing to make sure that our quality products preformed on wizards and witches with highly magical, non-wizarding ancestry. Research you see."

"Yes, tragically unavoidable … But it was pretty damn funny to see her turn green when we let slip that we-"

"You gave my fiancé constipation tablets? That's it; I'm not waiting for the honeymoon. You two are dead as of now."

Somehow, by miracle or magic, Fred and George managed to survive long enough to see the ceremony.

It was a very nice ceremony, from what Charlie knew of these kinds of things. Everything in sight was very pink, but the flowers were pretty and Merton was still the most talented cellist he'd ever heard.

He glanced over at the girls on the other side of the trellis. Even they were decked out in pink. Ginny (who had been reinstated in the wedding party after mum forced her to apologize) still looked a bit sulky when ever Bill wasn't looking, and he caught her muttering something about red heads and clashing. Nearer to him was Vanessa, Fleur's maid of honor and his dance partner. She smiled vapidly in his direction and murmured something he assumed was very suggestive in French, since Bill's ears turned red and he shot a glace at Charlie.

Fleur had once claimed to work at Gringots with Bill to improve her 'Engleesh'. Obviously, the lingual training had gone both ways in that relationship.

When the bride walked down the isle (and after he found the inner strength to stop staring at her), Charlie felt an immense swelling of pride in his chest. He looked at Bill, and was proud of his strength. He felt his brothers at his back, and was proud; of the twin's inventiveness, of Ronnie's determination and loyalty. He caught his father's eyes and saw the same sort of sentiment reflected back. Mrs. Weasley was, of course, crying sweet tears of joy. Charlie himself almost felt a tear or two considering their escape routes.

As the guests started to file past the bride and groom to wish them good luck, Charlie spotted Stella. She had her arm around a sniffling Professor Sprout of all people, and they seemed to be discussing the service. The events of that night in Club Hellespont came rushing back to him and regret settled heavily in his gut. Why had he gone so far so fast?

He knew that it was stupid, but he was determined to at least talk to her once tonight. She'd been avoiding him for days, and he wanted to at least attempt to explain himself. Would she understand if he just said he was drunk? Maybe that would work…

.ψ.

Throughout the afternoon feast, Charlie looked high and low for Stella but came up empty handed. In fact the first glimpse of her he caught was as she climbed up on the band platform the twins had set up by the frog pond. Fleur had mentioned earlier that she was going to sing the first song of the evening.

The sun had just set, and under the twinkling lights of the stars and the fairy decorations, he could have sworn he was looking at another woman. She'd changed clothes since the ceremony, and now wore a billowy blue robe and little tinkling earrings. Her hair was even out of that bloody hairnet. It was still pinned up around her head, but it was definitely an improvement. She really was something.

Suddenly he noticed a distinct lack of chatter. While he'd been mooning over Stella, Bill and Fleur had walked out onto the dance floor. Charlie was very curious by now to hear her sing.

All in all, it wasn't bad.

She wasn't spectacular by any means, but she wasn't going to break anyone's eardrums either. And there was a deep, mellow quality to her voice that resonated with him. About halfway into the song, Charlie found himself a bit caught up in listening to the unfamiliar tune.

"I think about the years I spent just passing through … I'd like to have the time I lost and give it back to you …"

She smiled down at the happy couple as they held each other closely; twirling around the parquet dance floor like the rest of the world no longer existed.

"But you just smile and take my hand … You've been there you understand … It's all part of a grander plan that is coming true…"

The song was ironically appropriate. Fleur and Bill had been through so much together, had been so strong to stay together despite all the excuses they'd both had to leave. Both families had looked down on the match. Fleur had been chased by unwanted suitors all the while they were dating. Bill had been on the brink of death, and would never walk without a limp or be able to stand the sight of a full moon without sprouting a thick mat of fur.

But somehow they had made it.

"Every long lost dream lead me to where you are…"

Charlie wondered quietly if he would ever have that kind of devotion for someone else. Would he ever be willing to do what Fleur had done, sitting by Bill's bedside for weeks, holding his hand, not knowing if he would come back to her? Thinking of the crying he heard every night from her room at the flat made him wonder if he would even want something like that. An emotion that strong was almost a frightening thing, but still … Would he ever love someone that desperately? He wasn't sure he wanted to.

"Others who broke my heart they were like northern stars … Pointing me on my way into your loving arms…"

It might be nice to have someone though. Someone to depend on, to talk to and to kiss and to… well, he was a man after all. It might be nice not to be alone.

And he couldn't get Stella out of his head. Merlin, the way she looked tonight…. But it wasn't like he wanted to marry the girl. He just couldn't stop thinking about her. They weren't even on speaking terms, for Circe's sake!

"This much I know is true … That God blessed the broken road … that led me straight to you."

Cheerful applause broke out –more for Bill and Fleur than for Stella- and she quietly slipped off the stage as couples began to take to the dance floor. Vanessa looked at him with an expectant smile and he dutifully steered her away from the table to do the same. As he spun her around mechanically, all his thoughts were focused on a warm, hot coco smile.

He looked for Stella out of the corner of his eye for what seemed like hours, and finally saw her talking with a tall, broad shouldered boy about Ronnie's age. He disentangled himself from his blond partner and went over before Stella could get away. By the time she spotted him, it was too late.

"Stella, could I talk to you?"

"I'm in the middle of a conversation right now, Charlie." She wouldn't look at him, but her tone implied that he was embarrassing her.

She wasn't getting off that easy. He was going to get this over with, one way or another. "I need to talk to you."

"You said that." She sighed. "Neville, have you met Charlie Weasley? I'm afraid he's being rather rude right now, but he's usually not this bad."

"You're Ron's brother, right? I think we might have met at the Triwizard Tournament." Charlie fuzzily remembered a much rounder, shorter boy named Neville tagging along after Hermione at one point.

"Yeah, I think I remember."

"Lovely. Now that we all know each other, you can go away and let us get back to what we were talking about." He had to smile, just a little. Even when she was trying really hard to act polite, the Stella he knew, the real Stella under the act, wasn't the most tactful person in the world.

"Actually … I um, I have to get going …" The kid named Neville stammered. Charlie gave him an appreciative grin, but that just seemed to make him leave faster.

"I want to talk to you."

"Oh, fine! Talk then! Just try not to lie this time, alright?"

"What? When have I ever lied to you?"

"You said you couldn't dance!" She looked away again.

"That's not a lie. I can't."

"Well, then I must be blind, cause I'm pretty sure that's what you were doing with Fleur Delacour no. 2 out there for the past hour."

"That's completely different."

"Oh really? I fail to see how that doesn't constitute lying on your part." Was she … jealous?

"Well first of all, what I meant to say at the Hellespont was that I can't dance like that … you know, club music."

"Listen, Charlie … about the club … I um, I …"

"I'm sorry." This was it. She was going to pull out the 'lets just be friends line'.

"You're what?"

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have … erm … you know … I'm sorry." Bugger. He'd completely lost this.

For some reason, Stella just threw back her head and laughed. Several people nearby actually turned and stared at her.

"What's so funny about that?" He huffed. This was not going well at all.

"You have nothing to be sorry about gatito." She smiled at him, really smiled, for the first time in days.

It dawned on him that maybe, just maybe, she didn't mind the kiss after all. "Then why were you avoiding me?"

"I figured you were just drunk and you didn't mean to well … you know …"

"Kiss you?"

"Yeah."

"Was it that bad a kiss?"

"I said you have nothing to be sorry for, didn't I? You just surprised me." Her eyes lost their sparkle when she saw something over his shoulder. "I think your girlfriend wants a word with you, Charlie."

"My what?

"The French clone." She pointed to Vanessa.

"She is definitely not my girlfriend. Say, I don't suppose you want to dance?"

"Just as long as you don't mind getting stepped on. I was serious about that whole breaking people's toes thing. It's happened before."

"I think I'll chance it."

She was right about one thing. He got stepped on a lot that night. It wasn't quite the sweeping off her feet that Charlie would have liked to have done, but at least the conversation was interesting.

"You sounded nice tonight."

"Thanks. I wish Moira could have done it instead, though. She's the real talent between us."

"What are you talking about? You sounded great." Alright, he was exaggerating a bit. She was good, but that was about it. Still, it couldn't hurt to stroke her ego… He relaxed one hand around her waist and let if fall to her bum.

It was a very nice bum, after all.

And she wasn't exactly objecting either.

"If I tell you once I'll tell you a thousand times, gatito. Flattery will get you no where." A tiny grin tugged at the corners of her mouth.

"Whatever you say Stella."

"Don't call me that."

Just then, Tonks and Mr. Lupin danced their way. Perhaps dance was a bad word for what they were doing, since Mr. Lupin wasn't very coordinated and Tonks reminded him of a wounded elephant charging around the dance floor. Remus Lupin looked a little more tired and grey than usual because of the approaching full moon, and Tonks had fairly mundane hair for once, black and curly and flowing down her back. He imagined that Stella's hair might look something like that if she ever let it down. Tonks's robes were made of thousands of little colored, silky patches all sewn together, and he supposed she might have been quite pretty, in a punk rocker sort of way-

-If she hadn't opened her mouth, that was.

"Hello Myra, having fun? And Charlie, you rogue, you finally went in for the kill! Do you have any idea how much some of the girls have been betting on you two? Stasia's gonna be mad as hell when she sees you dancing. She put twenty quid on you hooking up two weeks ago."

Stella looked as shocked as he felt. Tonks continued on without missing a beat.

"If I were you, I'd get out of the line of fire. Preferably somewhere dark and private where you can go at it like nifflers."

If he thought that he and Stella were embarrassed, the color of Mr. Lupin's face would have proved them pale by comparison.

"There's no need to blush, Lulu." Tonks smiled at the older man fondly. "It was only a joke. Besides, it's not like we've never-"

"Dora!" Lupin cut her off, sounding strangled.

"I wish you'd call me Tonks, Lulu. Dora's sounds so girly."

"Now Nyms, I think Dora is a lovely name." Said Stella with a grin.

"And I think we'll leave you to the seductive schemes of Charlie Weasley. You'd be doing humanity a kindness if you find someway of shutting her mouth, Charlie."

"Hey, that's not fair, Nyms. You've got just as big a mouth as I do!"

"Yeah, but that's why I've got Remus." Tonks returned Stella's wicked grin.

"Dora!"

Tonks sighed and put on an affected air as they shuffled back into the crowd. "Merlin's earwax, how did I ever end up with such a prude?"

Stella turned almost as red as Lupin had, and Charlie finally let out his pent up snickering.

"It's not funny!"

"It's not that. I just realized for the first time that there might actually be someone else on earth with less tact than you. I gotta tell you, that's pretty hilarious."

"I do so have tact!" She cried, sounding very much like a petulant toddler.

"No you don't. What about that time you told Stanislav to stick his broom where the sun doesn't shine? Or the time you said that you told Murphy's mother that her son had the pedigree of a-"

"I didn't know it was his mother."

"But you see my point."

She grumbled something rude under her breath and pouted. "It's still not funny."

He could feel hope and daring broil inside him as inspiration struck. "No, maybe its not."

She looked at him quizzically.

"Well, the look on Mrs. Murphy's face was brilliant, but maybe Tonks was right about that broom closet."

He pulled her a little closer. "Maybe I'll seduce you into one."

Her expression changed from curiosity to suspicion. He rushed on before his sensible side could catch up and stop him from doing this.

"Would you object if I did?"

Her brows drew together and she thought for what seemed like hours. He felt slightly nauseous. What if she really didn't think of him as more than a friend? She had admitted to not minding the kiss, but did she just say that so as not to hurt his feelings?

Just when he wasn't expecting it, she pulled his head down and kissed him.

"I'll take that as a yes."

Later that night, they found themselves back at Stella's flat watching a very strange 'telly' program called Monty Python and eating carrot sticks. (Stella informed him that carrots were very good for you.) She laughed a lot at jokes he didn't understand, but there was a bit about two women killing off a parrot that reminded him of Errol. When it was over, they talked for sometime about all sorts of things.

"So … Where was Moira anyway? I've saw the rest of your band there, but you said she couldn't make it."

"First of all, it isn't my band. If it's anybody's band, it's Moi's. And secondly, she's got back to back shifts at Mungo's. They've been working her ragged lately."

That was a bad topic. He tried something else.

"Was that song something you wrote?"

"No. Muggle music. It's from the states, actually."

"And Fleur wanted it for her wedding song?" Well that was strange. It was hard to imagine high handled Fleur Delacour listening to muggle music.

Stella seemed to think so too, from the way she was grinning. "Yeah. Apparently she's a die hard fan of Rascal Flatts. Who would have ever guessed that little miss prim and proper went for country music?"

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Authoress's Notes: I just had to give Fleur a bit of personality, and I had the time of my life imagining her as a country music fan. Now I can seriously picture her in a cowboy had and boots (designer labels of course) listening to Faith Hill. I can't stop laughing. What did ya'll think of it?

In fact (while I know that it is a bit out of place in both England and France) I sort of pictured Fleur's ideal wedding as the wedding from the movie 'Steel Magnolias'. "My flowers are blush and bashful, and I've got pink bunting draped over anything that will sit still long enough." If you've never seen it, go rent it. RIGHT NOW! I adore that movie, even if it is a little outdated.

Ginny also has considerable acting ability (OP4, OP16, OP32 - able to convince Mrs. Weasley that Crookshanks was responsible for the Dungbombs outside the kitchen in Grimmauld Place; imitating Umbridge; the Garroting Gas scam). –Harry Potter Lexicon

Cadha: A narrow road or path. Seòl: to lead or guide, to call back, to recover. bumf: British-speak for copious amounts of paperwork or literature.

Posum- Hurray for you, my one and only reviewer on this last chapter. You are a gorgeous human being! Yes, horay indeed for Charlie's love life.