Note: Erm...we realized that we didn't specify exactly what Dumbledore had been right about last chapter...and frankly, neither of us have the slightest idea. So, er, we'll just pretend it didn't happen. :)
A Strange Sort of Happiness – "'If only' have to be the two saddest words in the world." – Caryo, Exile's Valor, Mercedes Lackey
This morning, it was the silence that woke Hermione Granger from sleep. She'd already gotten used to hearing the toilet flushing and floor planks creaking at ungodly hours of the morning. The sounds of pans rattling and the person in the next bed snoring had become the soundtrack of her dreams. She'd read somewhere that those kinds of noises became the circadian rhythms that kept people's eyes closed and their breathing deep. And when it got quiet, so quiet that the absence of sound became too noisy, you awoke.
After the continuous rain of the past three days, it was the sound of raindrops not hitting the roof that Hermione awoke to. The pale sunlight glimmering through the window drew a contented sigh from her. Propping herself up on one elbow, she ran a hand through her thick hair, wishing – for what was nearing the hundredth time this summer – it wasn't so bushy.
On the other side of the room, Ginny was still fast asleep, sprawled across her bed in a way that apparently ran through the family. Hermione sighed again. The younger girl wasn't quite herself these days. As she participated in the various wedding preparations with her brothers, she would either be abnormally quiet or unusually chatty, using a falsely cheery voice that made Hermione cringe.
Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she picked up a brush from the nightstand and perfunctorily tugged it through her hair several times. Moving quietly so she didn't wake Ginny, she changed out of her pajamas and snuck out of the room.
Breakfast aromas, along with the sound of several voices, assailed her from below as the door clicked shut. It was six in the morning, and under no circumstances would all the Weasleys be downstairs that early. It's probably the Order…
No one seemed bothered by the unofficial switch of Order headquarters from twelve, Grimmauld Place to the Burrow. Everyone accepted it wordlessly, quietly avoiding discussion as to why. And it was just as well, Hermione thought, because she doubted she could even lay eyes on the ancient Black mansion where Sirius had spent countless hours pacing the musty corridors and the mad house-elf had prowled the shadows.
She shook her head and strode down the corridor, but instead of heading downstairs, she took the next flight of stairs going up.
The new charms the members of the Order had put on the Burrow recently made Apparition impossible, much to Fred and George's disappointment. It was fine with her, though – like flying, she had never taken a liking to it. She made her way past the fourth landing and up on to the fifth, where, as she had expected, the door of Ron's room was slightly ajar.
"…Haven't heard anything yet," she could hear Ron's voice say as she drew nearer. "Dad and Bill reckon it will, but who knows?"
She knocked lightly on the door and heard one of the boys jump to his feet.
"Hermione?" Footsteps strode toward her, and the door swung open. Ron stood before her, one hand in his pocket, while behind him Harry sat cross-legged on his bed.
"We were waiting for you," Ron informed her as he resumed his place on his own bed. Hermione closed the door and sat down with her back to it.
"I didn't think you were capable of waking up this early," Hermione said, smiling a little.
"Can too," Ron said indignantly. "I'll have you know I woke up earlier than Harry."
"By a minute," Harry said, rolling his eyes.
Hermione surreptitiously looked him over as he and Ron continued their banter. He had grown yet again over the month she hadn't seen him – he was probably taller than her by a head now. With his unruly black hair falling in his eyes and being as thin as he always was, he still looked like the little boy she'd first seen on the Hogwarts Express six years ago. If only people could see him now, like this, Hermione thought, suddenly feeling bitter. They're asking a boy who's barely an adult to save their world.
"…Like you weren't afraid of being turfed out of your bed by a giant bogey," Harry was saying, making Ron's face turn red.
"What?" Hermione asked, bemused.
"Nothing," Ron said quickly, and Harry gave him a satisfied grin.
She shook her head. "So how've you been?"
Harry shrugged, his grin gone. "Okay."
"How were the Muggles?"
His face remained expressionless. "I dunno, dancing a jig?"
"They can't have been that happy," Hermione said disapprovingly. "They might never see you again!"
"Like that's a real blow," Harry said dryly, brushing his hair out of his eyes. "I spoke to Uncle Vernon once, and I don't think I even saw Dudley."
"What about your aunt?"
Harry seemed to stiffen. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about," he said slowly, leaning forward. "Last night, while I was waiting for you two, she came to my room. Wanted to know where I was going. She told me she didn't hate me." He sounded strangled. "Or my Mum." He seemed to be talking to himself now, lost in the memory. "She just disliked us, because she was jealous of us."
"Jealous?" Ron asked incredulously. "What, does she want to die or have a madman after her, too?"
"No," Harry said, frowning. "It was because we had magic – because we were part of a different world that she couldn't even see. And when she was younger, she felt like magic was taking my mum away from the Muggle world, and she said it was doing the same thing to me…"
Ron looked perfectly baffled, but the words struck a discordant note in Hermione's mind. Hadn't her own parents said something along those lines? Are you going so soon? her mum had asked when she'd told her she was leaving for the Burrow. We hardly ever see you anymore. Your father and I…we miss you.
Now that she thought about it, she was spending more and more time in the wizarding world with each passing year. Sometimes she got so caught up with wizarding events she nearly forgot there was a Muggle world. Did her parents feel the same way as Harry's aunt had? Did they think magic was taking their daughter away from them? She immediately regretted the lie she'd told her father as she'd hugged him goodbye: I'll be back for the holidays…
"And she knows so much about this world," Harry went on. "She knew about Azkaban and Voldemort" – Hermione saw Ron twitch out of the corner of her eye – "and even dementors." He suddenly dropped his voice to a whisper. "Remember when the dementors attacked two years ago?"
Ron and Hermione nodded; neither would forget Harry's fit of rage after he'd been brought to twelve, Grimmauld Place that summer.
"Aunt Petunia told me what Dudley saw – his worst memory. It was – I dunno, some kind of operation, because he'd been – Dudley was a wizard."
Ron's jaw dropped. "Are you mental?" he exclaimed. "Your cousin – a wizard?"
Harry nodded grimly. "And Aunt Petunia didn't want her son being like my mum or me" – his smile was twisted – "so she decided to take the magic out of him."
"No!" Hermione gasped as a horrified Ron insisted, "You can't do that!"
"Apparently you can," Harry said. He glanced at Hermione, who had indeed heard of such things, but only in theory. It had something to do with destroying whatever was in a person's genetic makeup that allowed magical ability and was supposed to be extremely complicated, dangerous, and painful. "And she did. Dudley remembered the Healers and the pain of it, but not the reasons."
"So he doesn't know he was a wizard?" Ron asked, furrowing his eyebrows.
Harry shook his head. "Neither does Uncle Vernon. He'd probably jump off Buckingham Palace."
Ron snorted with laughter. "Wonder what it would've been like, your cousin being a wizard."
"They certainly wouldn't have let him play with me," Harry said wryly. "What with a mass murderer wanting my head on a plate and all."
"She knows about Voldemort too?" Hermione asked.
"Yeah. Right before she left, she – she told me not to die."
Ron made an exasperated noise.
Harry shrugged. "So…how've you two been?"
Ron and Hermione exchanged a look, and Ron launched into an explanation of the wedding craze Mrs. Weasley had fallen into. Hermione made sure she nodded and grinned and rolled her eyes at the right moments, but her mind kept wandering back to Harry and Ron's previous conversation. Their topic of discussion was obvious, as it was one of the few things currently being hotly debated worldwide – Hogwarts.
I'm not coming back even if it does reopen…
Deep inside, she knew he was being stupid. But then again, she hadn't been to sensible either, that day under the beech tree.
"You said to us once before that there was time to turn back if we wanted to. We've had time, haven't we?"
Of course she'd had time. Six years – who couldn't figure out something so simple as this in six years? It was the first thing she'd learned about raven-haired, lightning-scarred, ill-fated Harry Potter; he was the Chosen One, the One and Only. He was going to fight You-Know-Who, like it or not. When she'd first read about him, the summer before first year had begun, she'd imagined him as a sturdy but agile, handsome but modest, and serious but friendly boy, like those heroes in fantasy books. (Well, didn't all 11-year-old girls dream?) He was going to be You-Know-Who's worst nightmare. She'd even given him a nickname: Banewreaker. He would right all of You-Know-Who's wrongs and heal nearly five decades' worth of horror and cruelty. But never in her wildest dreams would she have thought of being his friend. She would have laughed until she was blue in the face if someone had told her the only way Harry Potter could get through school was by copying all her homework. She would have wet her pants if she knew his best friend would be a gangly, too-tall redhead with a surplus of freckles. And she would have bet her life that, six years later, she'd never be in such a sticky, wretched situation.
Oh yes, she'd had time. All those years, all those moments, all those memories, arguments, jokes, scares, and near-death experiences – if she could live through that, she could live through anything. And since (and this was prat-like-Ron-ish that it scared her) he was her best friend and she loved him, she would go far beyond everything she'd ever scoffed at if that was what it took to help him.
But that – that was then. That was when she hadn't been thinking straight, caught up in the anguish and distress of mourning. She still wanted to help him, of course, but one thing was painstakingly clear: Harry Potter had no idea what he was doing. He didn't even have a plan. He wanted to go to Godric's Hollow – and then what? How would he find the Horcruxes? Not even that – how would he travel? What would he eat? Where would he sleep? What about the little things?
That's the problem with boys, Hermione thought irritably. They don't think for themselves. There was only one sensible course of action – return to Hogwarts. There he would be relatively safe and under the watchful eyes of the teachers, and the school could provide information and clues about the Horcruxes.
The question was, how to convince him?
Harry found himself caught up in a whirlwind of activity over the next few days and managed to become an obstacle more than anything else. When she wasn't cooking, Mrs. Weasley was rushing around with a perpetual frown on her face, ready to go into hysterics every five minutes. Between his work at the Ministry and keeping his wife in a reasonably calm state, Mr. Weasley looked exhausted as he pored over minute details like the colors of napkins and possible arrangements of flowers with his eldest son, who looked equally fatigued.
"At least house-elves get paid," Ron grumbled as he sat at the kitchen table with Harry and Hermione, recounting the expected number of people so he could tell Fred, George, and Charlie, who were in charge of setting up the backyard.
"This isn't nearly as crazy as planning a Muggle wedding," Hermione said, tucking a strand of loose hair behind her ear as she squinted at a response to an invitation. "There aren't any caterers to call, flowers to order, reservations to make… What is this supposed to say? I can't – "
"If it's got really loopy writing and the i's are dotted with little circles, it's from Auntie Muriel, and she's definitely coming," said a new voice that to Harry was painfully familiar.
He, Ron, and Hermione turned to the doorway to see Ginny walk in carrying a small pile of letters. Harry tensed at the sight of her, and what he'd said at the funeral came rushing back as their eyes met briefly. He resisted the urge to leap up from his stool and hug her (or maybe kiss her) and bit his tongue so he wouldn't blurt anything stupid. It was the first time he'd properly seen her since he'd arrived at the Burrow; he wasn't quite sure if she was avoiding him or if he was unconsciously avoiding her, but he managed to give her a weak smile.
She gave him a strained smile back, and he felt her hesitate slightly as she passed him to dump the letters in front of Hermione. He saw a look pass between the two girls as Ginny sat down beside her.
"I thought your mum said it was going to be a small wedding," Hermione said exasperatedly as she sifted through the pile in dismay. "Weasley, Weasley, Weasley…how many relatives do you have?"
"Too many," Ron said with a grimace. "And Mum didn't even invite half of them."
"I don't think most of them will come, anyway," Ginny said, flicking her hair over her shoulder as she reached for a letter. Harry told himself not to stare. "They live so far away and we haven't seen them in at least ten years, so the invitations were just a formality."
"But Great-Aunt Tessie'll be here," Ron said in a resigned tone. "Last time I saw her she beat Fred and George with her cane because they put gnomes in Percy's socks."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Typical. Anyway, I need a break," she said, pushing her chair back. "I think I'll write my mum and dad, I told them I would. Ron, I need to borrow one of your quills."
"Somewhere in my bag," Ron said. "Bugger, I've lost count again…"
"Ron," Hermione said, glaring at him fiercely. "Your bag is a mess, I'll never find it!"
Ron looked up and caught her meaningful glance at Harry. "Right. Here, I'll go with you." He stood up and led the way out of the kitchen. Hermione patted Ginny's shoulder as she followed him.
Damn, Harry thought. Something to say, find something to say, say something quick…
"Er, how've you been?" he asked, grabbing the letter Hermione had discarded and examining it with interest.
"Okay," Ginny said, sounding as awkward as he felt. "You?"
"Not bad," he said, hating the discomfiture between them. There was a long pause, during which the spidery black words on the parchment slipped through Harry's brain without leaving the slightest trace of meaning behind, until finally he threw the letter down in frustration and took a deep breath. "Ginny, listen – "
She interrupted him, very quietly but in a tone that clearly indicated she was her mother's daughter. "I know," she said simply. "We've got to put ourselves on hold." One side of her mouth quirked up in a rueful smile. "You've told me; you've given more than enough good, sensible reasons, one of which is saving the world from a madman…and the last thing you need on your mind is silly teenage romance."
The plain acceptance in her voice brought so much relief, yet so much guilt. But at least there's no misunderstanding… He had secretly been dreading some sort of breakdown or histrionics, though he knew Ginny wasn't the type to sulk. He sighed inwardly – he always made things complicated. It was just how he was; he'd been like that for six years now, and he still wasn't used to it.
He shook his head and opened his mouth to say something –
"I know," she said again, firmly. "I can wait."
He gave her a genuine smile, contemplating whether or not to pat her arm, or hug her, or –
An impish grin suddenly graced her lips. "Wonder what Ron and Hermione are doing up there," she said mischievously, her eyes sparkling. "They're taking an awfully long time to get a quill."
Harry gave a snort of laughter. Half of him was taken aback at the sudden change of topic, and the other half wanted to forget everything and jump up and dance on the table. "They are, aren't they?" he sniggered, feeling ridiculously light-hearted.
"Well, they're certainly not leaving us to do all the work," Ginny said impertinently, scooping up the letters and striding out of the kitchen toward the stairs.
Harry fleetingly considered warning Ron and Hermione before Ginny burst in on them, but decided his friends' expressions would be worth it as he hurried after Ginny.
The Delacours arrived at the Burrow two days before the wedding, making the resident count shoot up to fifteen. Fred and George were sent to sleep at the flat above their shop so Mr. and Mrs. Delacour could take their room, while Gabrielle, who blushed fiercely when Harry said hello to her, squeezed in with Ginny and Hermione.
Harry noticed that Ron didn't goggle at Fleur as much when she smiled at him, but whether it was because he had finally realized she was unattainable or because Bill, Hermione, and Mrs. Weasley were right there, Harry couldn't tell.
Things became rather hectic as introductions were made, dresses and dress robes were tried on (the Delacours had been in charge of apparel, much to Ron's delight), and last minute details were changed – and confirmed – and changed again. Harry enjoyed the good-natured laughter as the Weasleys tried to figure out what the Delacours were saying through their thick accents and Gabrielle's witty rejoinders whenever the twins tried to tease her.
The wedding had good timing; the excitement and demands of such an event had the advantage of taking people's minds off other, darker things. Harry himself sometimes forgot about what lay ahead of him and felt like his life was, for once, normal.
He awoke early the morning of the wedding and wasn't at all surprised to hear footsteps running about and voices coming from below. With a heady sense of anticipation building up inside him, he bounded out of his bed and roughly shook Ron awake. "C'mon, mate, your brother's getting married!"
"Bloody brilliant," Ron grumbled, burying his face in his pillow. His head shot up a moment later, eyes wide. "Bloody Merlin, my brother's getting married!"
Harry grinned. "We said we'd help set up, remember?"
They quickly changed out of their pajamas and thundered down the stairs to the first landing. Wonderful smells drifted out of the kitchen where Mrs. Weasley and Mrs. Delacour were preparing food for the reception. Mr. Weasley and Mr. Delacour were sitting on the couch in the living room, laughing about something, and all four girls were nowhere in sight.
"Good morning, dears," Mrs. Weasley said, emerging from the kitchen looking breathless. "The boys are out in the backyard."
Harry followed Ron out the back door where he saw Charlie, Fred, and George conjuring chairs and tables in the field past the fence they used to bung gnomes over. The twins hailed them and promptly put them to work arranging the chairs in rows.
When they trooped back in, sweaty and hungry, they were served a cursory breakfast and then sent upstairs to shower and change. Harry and Ron flipped a Chocolate Frog card to see who got to shower first, and Ron crowed in triumph as Daisy Dodderidge beamed up at them from Ron's desk.
"Hurry up," Harry growled after him as he dashed out of the door and nearly crashed into Hermione and Ginny, who had just appeared in the doorway.
"Take your clothes, you prat!" Ginny called after him, holding out his freshly laundered blue robes. Ron came sprinting back, grabbed them from her, and shot off again. Ginny rolled her eyes.
"These are yours," Hermione said to Harry, setting his neatly folded robes on his bed. "See you later." She and Ginny waved as they turned and left, giggling as they went.
Ron returned a good ten minutes later, his face red. "Do I look okay?" he asked, inspecting himself with a frown.
"You look fine," Harry laughed, picking up his own set of robes. "Hermione'll love it," he added, punching Ron's arm as he headed for the bathroom.
Leaving his clothes on a shelf, he stepped into the shower, doused himself with a spray of cold water, scrubbed at his hair, and quickly stepped out again. Grabbing a towel that was beside his clothes, he dried off and slipped into his dress robes. As he adjusted his collar in front of the mirror, it looked at him, wolf-whistled, and turned a radiant pink hue. Harry stared at it, trying to work out if it was really blushing, and then put it out of his mind as he tried to tame his hair. As it was still wet, he had a modicum of success pushing it flat.
Sighing at his reflection, he hurried back out to the hallway, where Ron was waiting impatiently at the head of the stairs.
"Took you long enough," he grumped, shifting from foot to foot.
"Finished faster than you," Harry countered.
Ron didn't seem to hear – he kept glancing downstairs and tugging at his collar. "Well, this is it."
Harry nodded. "Yeah."
"Let's go."
------
Bill Weasley might have been more nervous than in that incident with fifteen mismanaged German goblins' accounts and completely bogged down with thoughts of Fleur and his wedding night and how to deal with various relatives and the fact that he wouldn't be a free man in a few hours, but he still had time to see two people who weren't as happy as they should have been.
His youngest brother was loitering around the tables arranged for the buffet, looking slightly droopy as he watched the twins zoom around the field allegedly entertaining guests as they caused as much confusion as possible. Harry was sitting in a chair beside him, trying to look cheerful and excited, but there was no mistaking the preoccupation and the longing in his eyes, suggesting there was more on his mind concerning a certain redhead and himself that involved being less than fifteen feet from each other.
Charlie was teasing said redhead as he helped her over the fence, and for a moment Bill couldn't quite believe that she was his sister – she looked more like an adult than ever and glowed in her pale yellow dress robes. He caught the covert look she shot at Harry, and when their eyes met, Bill rather felt as if they were – and would be – really only aware of each other.
Ron leaned down and said something to Harry, who nodded grimly. Both suddenly looked more miserable than anyone should have been allowed to at a wedding. But then Hermione came floating out of the house, and Ron's eyes – well, he hoped that despite his scarred face, Fleur would be able to see him looking like that when she came down the aisle. Bill grinned to himself as Harry nudged Ron in the ribs to get him to stop staring.
Mum, between scolding the twins and tying up last minute details, was positively flustered and stopped every few seconds to look at Bill admiringly or pat him on the shoulder or adjust his robes. Dad drifted along behind her, watching his children with a carefree happiness that Bill hasn't seen in years. But then Mr. Delacour was next to him, telling him everything was just about set to start and that – sweet Merlin! – he'd be going in to see if Fleur was ready to be escorted down. For the eighth time in the past ten minutes, he told himself that fainting would not be very appropriate.
------
Tonks sat at the end of the last row of chairs, absently checking to see that the wand she had stashed in the pocket of her dress robes was still there.
As one of the three trusted Aurors in the Order (two, really, but no one cared that Mad-Eye was retired – he had the right mentality), she had been given guard duty during the wedding – essentially, to make sure no one tried to blow the place up or pick off a few innocent civilians before disappearing in a daring hit-and-run tactic.
She honestly didn't think that any Death Eater would be stupid enough to target a wedding that involved nearly half the Order, but older folks these days got hyped up for no reason. Besides, she had a rather impressive reputation to maintain as an Auror who allowed nothing to go unnoticed, even if she was a bit clueless in the everyday.
Of course, even the most unreliable Auror would have seen that there were two people not paying attention to what the officiating wizard was saying up front. Well four, actually, if you counted Ron and Hermione, the former of which wasn't even pretending to appear attentive, but Tonks doubted he'd be noticed since everyone else was gazing with tear-filled eyes at a glowing Fleur and Bill, whose scars only made him look more dashing. Tonks could barely contain her laughter as Hermione acted as though the blush on her cheeks wasn't really there and fidgeted under Ron's stare – he'd watched her as she'd escorted Fleur down the aisle with Ginny, watched her as she stood waiting for the other attendants to take their places, looked away for a half a minute as Mr. Delacour handed his daughter to Bill, and now that the blissful couple was standing hand in hand, he was watching her again.
But at least Harry and Ginny were trying to focus on the stars of the joyous occasion, even though everyone knew they could see no one but each other. And though Merlin knew she was tired of this war already, she couldn't help but feel that the Order wasn't doing enough and that the world was expecting too much of a boy whose dearest wish was probably just to snog his girlfriend senseless.
A little sob jerked her thoughts back to the wedding, and she saw Molly in the front row rendering her kerchief inadequate – she'd need a tub to hold the tears she was crying as Bill and Fleur exchanged their vows – and felt a bit guilty that she hadn't been paying attention.
Out the corner of her eye she saw Mad-Eye shake his head and suppress the urge to laugh again – doubtless he wanted some sort of attack so he could brush aside this "sentimental rubbish."
Grinning to herself, she glanced at the audience again, just to satisfy her duties. None of the guests looked like they had conspicuously evil intentions, so she surreptitiously allowed her gaze to settle on the front row, where a certain brown-haired (but grayer than ever, she was pained to see) man was listening intently to the proceedings.
------
Great-Auntie Muriel, who could scarcely stand up without her cane and hadn't danced in more years than she cared to remember, wasn't so old that she couldn't see that there were two girls that wanted to dance with two obviously ignorant boys. The first one was one of her own great-grandsons – she thought his name might be Ronald, but there were so many she could never tell – and he was sitting at a table with Potter, who was the spitting image of his great-grandfather on his father's side; the girl with an abnormal amount of hair that Ronald had been staring at during the entire wedding; and her great-niece, who even Muriel had to admit looked quite pretty and not so much like a little girl anymore.
Ronald was saying something loudly and gesturing extravagantly as he ate too much cake – standard adolescent behavior – and Muriel cringed when he knocked over a glass of firewhiskey. But Miss Hair cleaned the mess up with a quick, smooth gesture, and Muriel had no doubt that she was proper and respectable, like all young women should be.
But then the moment was gone, and the girl went back to glancing wistfully at the dance floor with Ginevra, where William was spinning his laughing bride – the one she had lent her goblin-made tiara to; it did look quite nice with her hair – around in circles, and where Frederick and George were romping about in a most undignified manner. Ronald was perfectly ignorant, of course, just like his father, although there was a longing in Potter's eyes as he shot what he probably thought were surreptitious looks at her great-niece.
Muriel was about to take action – she couldn't stand insensitive boys – when William's sister-in-law darted up to the table with what looked to be every ounce of courage she could muster and ask something of Potter. A grin lit up Ronald's face and he nudged Potter in the ribs as the little girl turned flaming red, but there was a most curious expression on Ginevra's face as Potter stood up and made his way to the dance floor.
Serves her right, Muriel thought exasperatedly as Miss Hair leaned over and whispered something in Ginevra's ear. If she wanted to dance with him, she should have asked!
But Ronald was still spouting nonsense, and Muriel couldn't take it anymore. She called his name – he looked up, grimaced, and rolled his eyes at Miss Hair as he reluctantly stood up. She smirked – she wasn't as blind as he thought she was – and gave him a talking to at the end of which he was looking ludicrously sulky. She jabbed her cane in his chest – not hard enough to hurt, although she did wish he were more stockier and not so ridiculously tall – and demanded that he ask the nice young lady to dance, because despite all the hair, she seemed to be very pleasant. He gaped for a moment, until she said sharply, "Close your mouth, Ronald. Are you trying to catch flies? We are not a frog."
He protested, as was expected, but she gave him the look she'd been perfecting for over a century, and he hung his head and shuffled back to the table like a man headed to his execution. The invitation was clumsy, she could tell, but the light in the girl's eyes was worth all the trouble. Muriel nodded approvingly as they moved to the dance floor, holding hands, but now Ginevra was by herself, looking as though she'd like to punch something – she'd heard about that particular temper.
She would have to do something, although she couldn't very well call Potter over and tell him off like her great-nephew. Perhaps –
BOOM.
------
Harry's hand dove into his pocket for his wand as the explosion rocked the field, nearly knocking him off his feet. Gabrielle screamed, along with several others, but Harry was already looking around for Ginny. Several voices were yelling for calm, but a flash of green light lit up the darkening sky and things became even more chaotic. Fleur rushed over to him with her parents right on her heels, and Gabrielle ran to them spouting rapid French.
He'd felt that something hadn't been quite right since the beginning of the reception, and his suspicion had only increased when he saw Tonks disappearing around the Burrow.
Another flash of light soared over the roof of the house, and curses and shouts could be heard over the screams. Kingsley and Lupin bounded toward the fence as more people drew their wands. Mr. Weasley and Bill were attempting to restore order, but to no avail; now three dark figures ran out from behind the Burrow and came straight towards the field with two other figures in hot pursuit.
"Everyone get down!" somebody roared, and there was another earsplitting bang and suddenly Harry was enveloped in an enormous cloud of dust and darkness.
I've got to find Ginny! "Lumos!" he shouted, but the light flaring from the tip of his wand only penetrated a few inches of the fog, and he started to run blindly, knocking over chairs as he went.
"Ron!" he bellowed. "Hermione! Ginny!"
"Down!" a voice was yelling, "stay down, get your wands out!" Something blunt streaked past Harry's cheek and he gritted his teeth in pain, but kept going – someone suddenly hurtled into him and he went flying; there was an angry snarl as Harry's assailant dug fingers painfully into his shoulder –
"Petrificus Totalus!"
Harry felt the man collapse against him, and he pushed the Death Eater off with a grunt just as a scarred, murderous face swam into view out of the haze.
"Bill!"
"Harry, get – "
Then the smoke disappeared and he could see – he was at the edge of the field – a jet of green light flew his way and he ducked and ran, headfirst, back into the fray. There was no sign of Ginny, no sign of Ron or Hermione – Tonks was locked in combat with a skull-masked Death Eater in front of him, while another jumped one of the broken tables and raised his wand at her.
"Avada – "
Harry launched himself across the grass and grabbed the Death Eater around the knees, causing him to topple and his aim to go awry. Lupin tore in out of nowhere, rammed into the other Death Eater with his shoulder, and they careened away, wands flashing like swords as sparks flew. Tonks whirled around and Stunned the Death Eater Harry was struggling with.
There was no time for thanks – Harry heard a loud crash from one end, a scream from the other, and he and Tonks split up. A sudden thought occurred to him as he ran – Snape. Kingsley was battling a rat-faced Death Eater Harry had never seen before – the Auror stumbled over a chair and the Death Eater grinned triumphantly.
"Stupefy!" Harry yelled, and the charm hit the Death Eater in the back. Kingsley scrambled out of the way as he toppled forward. Harry sprinted on, but his foot caught on something, and the next moment he was lying across someone's legs.
"Hermione! Are you – "
"Oh my God, Harry, you're all right, I couldn't find you, I don't know where Ron – Ginny – Tonks was just – watch out!"
"Protego!" Harry shouted, and the silver jet of light bounced away into the night. An enormous blond man who looked vaguely familiar was standing on the podium beneath the flowered archway, sending curses flying in all directions, and Harry aimed a hex at him from the ground before springing back up. There was a howl of pain as Harry dragged Hermione to her feet.
"Tonks is fine – but Ginny – "
"Oh Harry, she and Ron – I lost them when the smoke – Pro-!"
She had seen the spell too late; the slash of white light shimmered as it passed through Hermione's half-formed shield and ripped a gash through her sleeve and arm. She dropped to the ground, eyes squeezed shut in pain as she clutched the arm tightly. Harry whirled around to see a Death Eater advancing on them.
"Petrificus Totalus!"
Before Harry had even raised his wand, an astonished look passed across the Death Eater's face as his arms snapped to his sides and he keeled over. Ron skidded to a stop beside them with fury burning in his eyes, the sleeve of his right arm torn and bloody.
"Hermione!" he cried, kneeling down beside her. "Hermione – bloody Merlin – Harry, I can't find – "
But Harry was already sprinting away – he could think of only two things – Snape and Ginny, Snape and Ginny –what if Snape's here – what if they've got Ginny –
Mad-Eye was dueling two Death Eaters at once and doing a fine job of it, his scarred face twisted in a hideous expression of glee as he doled out curses and hexes. Harry raced past him to find Lupin fighting a familiarly squat, lumpy wizard – Amycus – their wands almost a blur. Amycus flicked his arm back, apparently getting ready to perform a complex spell, but Harry yelled, "Expelliarmus!" and the wand went soaring away into the night.
Lupin Stunned the disarmed man and gave Harry a quick nod of thanks. "I want you to get inside," he shouted as a jet of blue light narrowly missed their heads. "Now! Molly's gotten most of them in and the wards are up, go!" he bellowed as he dashed forward to meet a buck-toothed Death Eater – Kingsley swayed across his field of vision, battling with a pockmarked man – Harry dodged another curse –
And then he saw Ginny some twenty feet away, slowly being pushed back as she fought valiantly against two sizable Death Eaters. Blood stained the front of her robes, but whether it was hers or not, Harry couldn't tell – a third Death Eater was running to corner her against a broken stack of chairs, and Harry cursed under his breath as he tore toward them. Who were they after – her or him? Both of them?
Ginny dove out of the way as a hex was thrown at her – she retaliated with a jinx but it missed, and the Death Eater swore – the third one was closing in –
"Impedimenta!" Harry roared so loudly he felt his throat might tear, but the charm hit the running Death Eater square in the chest. There was a pig-like squeal of pain as he was lifted off his feet. The other two were stupid enough to both spin around to face him, and Ginny cried, "Stupefy!" at one while Harry yelled, "Petrificus Totalus!" at the other.
And then another voice was shouting, "We're done! Let's go! Leave them, just leave them, go!"
There were several loud pops as black figures here and there disappeared, and suddenly it was quiet except for the groans of the fallen. Night had descended, and beams of light were flashing around, names were being called out –
"Harry…"
Harry felt as though his heart would drown in the relief flooding it. He turned around to see Ginny dropping to her knees on the ground, and he hastened to her side.
He wrapped his arms around her trembling shoulders, and it wasn't until he let out a long, shaky breath that he realized just how terrified he'd been. "Sweet Merlin, Ginny," he breathed, "you're alive – I thought – are you hurt?" He held her at arm's length to look her over, but she shook her head numbly and swallowed hard.
"Nothing serious," she said unsteadily, brushing back strands of matted hair from her eyes. "Exhausted. Are you…?"
"I'm fine," Harry said quickly, although his hand was throbbing and his cheek felt like it was on fire. He inspected her again, and a groan came from behind them – he looked back to see the two Death Eaters facedown on the ground.
"Ron and Hermione – have you seen them?" Harry asked, glancing around as he helped Ginny to her feet. "Your mum's inside with most of the people, I dunno about your dad, but I saw Lupin and Tonks and Kingsley – "
"Ron and Hermione were over by the archway the last time I saw them, and Dad was with Bill," Ginny answered, eyeing the Death Eaters distastefully. "Did anyone get hurt? There were so many people screaming…"
Harry shook his head. "No idea."
"They-they were here for you," Ginny said quietly, shivering as she hugged herself. "I heard them yelling to each other."
"I know," Harry said. What else could they be after? But I'm not the only one. "And they were using – listen, Ginny," he said urgently. "I've – Snape knows. He knows we were, you know, going out, but he doesn't know we broke up."
Ginny blinked.
"He would've told Voldemort by now, right? Our secret – it's history."
Ginny gazed up at him for a moment, her expression unreadable. "So now what?" she said softly. "Are you planning to lock me up in a house like the Order did to Sirius, so you can protect me?" There was no mistaking the resentment, the defiance in her tone.
People don't like being locked up! You did it to me all last summer!
He smiled bitterly and shook his head. "Never. Besides, you wouldn't stand for it. You'd probably break out anyway, and get yourself into more danger. No, I'm just saying – I mean, if you – "
"You don't ever do things normally, do you?" Ginny said dryly.
"Well, unfortunate circumstances and all," he said. "But I…well, if you…?"
She gave him a tired, fleeting smile. "Always."
"Harry!"
Harry turned around again to see Lupin and Tonks hurrying toward them, both of them covered in blood and looking exhausted.
"Thank Merlin you're all right," Lupin said, putting a hand on Harry's shoulder. Tonks hugged Ginny tightly. "Any serious injuries?"
"No," Harry shook his head. "Is anyone…?"
"No one's dead and there aren't any injuries that can't be fixed up at St. Mungo's," Tonks said grimly. "Kingsley's called in Aurors from the Ministry, he and Arthur and Bill are just rounding up the Death Eaters. Prophet's going to have a field day with this," she added wryly.
"The Prophet won't write anything that's not obvious," Lupin said firmly. "It's Azkaban for these damned fools and nothing else."
"Were they after anything?" Harry asked casually.
"Probably not," Tonks said slowly. "It was most likely just a hit-and-run sort of thing. I don't think they were expecting such fierce resistance."
Harry and Ginny glanced at each other.
"You two should head in, get cleaned up," Lupin sighed. "We just sent Ron and Hermione in, too – Hermione was going hysterical looking for you two."
Harry nodded wearily. He could see three figures moving about behind Tonks, dragging inert bodies across the grass in front of the archway and binding them securely with ropes.
"And Harry – you did well," Lupin said, sounding a bit awkward, as he turned to leave. "Sirius and James would've been proud."
Harry looked at him for a moment. Ginny slipped her hand in his and squeezed it lightly.
He smiled. "Thanks."
Up Next: A trip down memory lane isn't quite what Harry expected, and he walks away disappointed.
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