((And, finally, the much-awaited next chapter! I'd explain myself, but it's a whole bunch of job/school/personal drama that you probably don't care about. : )

We're actually beginning to reach the end here, as you can probably tell. Thank you so much for sticking with me, and I'm going to try my best to get the last few chapters up in fairly quick succession. I already have the last one written, so it'll just be a matter of writing up the last chapter or two in between. I hope you enjoy, and as always I loved hearing from you - please review some more! It always makes me day.

As always, of course, I own nothing but Shay. And possibly Cad. But even that's debatable. ))

"I used to get nervous before every Quidditch game."

"What?"
"Every single one, no matter how long I'd played. I'd stand there in the changing rooms and just...and shake, you know? My hands would shake. And I'd be afraid there would be no way I'd ever get on that broom."
"Charlie..."
"And it's weird, right? Because this is so much worse, so incredibly worse than a silly Quidditch match, but I'm only as nervous as I ever was, then."
Shay sighed and reached between them, laced their fingers together.
"We'll be okay, Charlie."
"Your cousin was never nervous, though. Oliver. Even at his tryouts."
"That's because Ol is a maniac,"
"No, but still. I just...I dunno, Shay. I feel like it should be worse."
They spoke in hushed tones, chilled even in the summer night. Shoulders touching, hands clasped. Shay gave Charlie's hand a squeeze, then released it so that she could be ready, at a moment's notice, to grab her wand. They had received notice of a coven of nearby vampires recruited by Voldemort, as well as several werewolves believed to have been convinced, by Fenrir Greyback, to join the ranks of the so-called Dark Lord. And now they were waiting.

This was what Shay thought of as she stared at The Burrow's ceiling, the tremor in Charlie's voice, her own even responses, and wished she'd said something different. Charlie had been afraid, so afraid that he couldn't even voice it as its own, had to resort to schoolday fears to explain it.
And she had been so cool, so calm, so collected. So focused on the shadows of the dark trees and potential danger that she'd...she'd what? Very nearly ignored his fears entirely. Poor, dear Charlie.
She exhaled, loudly, the mere puff of breath disturbing the relative silence of Ginny Weasley's rather crowded room. Ginny, Hermione, Fleur and her sister Gabrielle, and Shay, were all sharing the room for the night. The Weasleys had maneuvered cots in for the guests and, though the room was relatively warm and crowded, it wasn't uncomfortable. In fact, the rest of the girls seemed to have drifted off fairly easily, after the chatter died down. Fleur, who would be married in a matter of hours, slept as peacefully and prettily as an angel, her blonde hair in a shimmering braid down her back. Her sister was just as pretty, just as peaceful, hands folded over the blanket. Hermione had fallen asleep while reading, and the book rested splayed on her chest. Ginny had kicked her blanket off in her sleep, and her limbs sprawled across the mattress.

Shay punched her pillow and turned over.
And there. Were. Eyes. Watching her. In the doorway.
Her heart skidded to a stop, slamming painfully into her ribs in its haste. Her breath simply vanished without so much as a goodbye.
It took her sleepy brain an awfully long time to realize how familiar the eyes were, how unthreatening. She released her wand and pressed her palms to her temples, felt the blood pound against the delicate skin. Carefully, so as not to wake the others, she swung off of her cot, slipped through the door, and pulled it shut behind her.
"Charles. Fabian. Weasley. You nearly killed me!" She hissed.
"Yes, well, Bill nearly killed me," Charlie retorted, "With him talking in his sleep all night. Poor bloke. Pre-wedding jitters, I guess. How's Fleur?"
"Sleeping like a baby. Charlie, I...I'm sorry."
Charlie's eyebrows furrowed, his head tilted slightly to the side. He looked so endearingly like Cad, for a moment, that Shay nearly laughed.
"Sorry? Why? What for?"
"That night. In the woods. I...you told me how afraid you...and I just...I brushed it off, and I -"
"Is that all?"
Shay bit her lip and nodded. Charlie chuckled.
"Silly girl. It doesn't matter."
He pulled her closer and kissed the top of her head.
"We have to wake up very early tomorrow, don't we?"
"Mm." She curled into his chest, nestling her head against him, and breathed in the familiar smell of Charlie, a slight smell of cinnamon that she could never place, the scent of his soap, the burn ointment he must have recently applied to the most recent mark on his shoulder.
She hadn't inhaled Amortentia in years, not since her Potions class in seventh year, an advanced course which very few students (mostly Ravenclaws and Slytherins, with one or two Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors tossed in) had been admitted to. Then, it had smelled of old books, fresh coffee, and the smoke from the Ravenclaw fireplace, which had always smelled of almond wood. And, she'd been confused to note, then, there had been a faint whiff of cinnamon.

"What are you afraid of?"

She'd very nearly drifted off to sleep right there, leaning into Charlie on the stairway, standing up. The question woke her, set her mind churning.
"Wh...what?"
"You wanted to apologize," he said, and she could hear the smile without looking up to see it, "Here's your chance. What are you afraid of?"

No. No.
Anything. Anything at all.
But not that.

"I don't know," she murmured, and breathed deeply. "I'm afraid of...of pain. I don't want to hurt."
"But not death?"
"No, I've come to...no. Not death. But pain. And...and loss. My loss and the loss of...others. And people I love being in pain. Losing you."
"You won't."
"Charlie, they murdered Amelia Bones and Emmeline Vance, and they think Charity Burbage has been killed, too. We could lose anyone. Anyone at all."
"Not us," Charlie said, whispering his assurances into her hair. "Not me. Not you. I promise."
Don't make promises you can't keep, she wanted to say. But she kept her silence and looked up at Charlie with a thin, small smile when he pulled away.
"Alright, love," he said, brushing errant strands of hair from her face, "Get some sleep. I'm off to the kitchen to get some tea. Maybe Bill will have stopped talking by the time I get back."
He yawned, a big, deep yawn that seemed to come from his toes.
"If I fall asleep standing up there tomorrow, would you catch me?" He asked, stretching his arms above his head.
"Charlie, I think you'd crush me."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"That you're a good deal taller and more muscular than me, Mr. Defensive," she said. "It would be like a lion falling on a mouse."
"Mouse? No...no, I think you'd be more of a cat type," Charlie said thoughtfully. "Or smallish dog. Like a cocker spaniel?"
Shay laughed aloud, then slapped a hand over her mouth. With her other hand, she smacked Charlie's shoulder.
Then winced.
"Ooh, sorry. I forgot about..."
"The burn?" Charlie said with a grimace. "Yeah, I figured."
"Sorry," she whispered, and stood on tiptoe to press a soft kiss to the pained shoulder.
"As long as I have you here to kiss it better."
Her smile faltered, but just for a moment.
"Yeah," she said. "We'd better go, Charlie. Sleep and all of that." She yawned, shook her head. "I'm not used to sleeping without you."
"Nor I you."
"'Night, Charlie."
"G'night, my love. Sleep well."
The door closed behind her with the softest click, and she collapsed as quietly as she could into her cot. Sleep overcame her soon enough, after Charlie's footsteps came back up the stairs and passed the door.
And then there was morning, and a thoroughly excited Fleur and a grumbling Ginny, and Hermione and Shay rolled their eyes at each other across the mess of cots and blankets.

Mrs. Weasley was in a frenzy all day, and though Shay was surrounded by people throughout the day, she felt as though she didn't actually see anyone. It was all a whirl of red hair and flowers, disrupted every once in awhile by the blonde Delacours. The morning blended into the afternoon, and before she knew it Shay was zipping her dress and fixing her hair, slipping her feet into pretty shoes she didn't really want on her feet. And then she helps Fleur, who is near tears because the lace has torn on her dress. Thankfully, Shay's practiced fingers take up needle and thread, mended it just enough so that no one would notice. Fleur, beaming, was a rush of black and white. Shay couldn't help but think that the other girl was like a swan, just as pretty, just as graceful in her simple white dress, Auntie Murial's gold tiara glimmering in her hair.

The guests were all being led to their seats - Shay joined them, and was led to a chair by a disguised Harry Potter, with ginger hair to hide among the Weasley clan. Shay winked as she sat down and Harry grinned before moving on to help the next guest.
Shay had been seated fairly close to the front, just behind the immediate Weasley family. Charlie, Bill's best man, entered with his brother and stood by his side, the two young men talking softly. Bill looked healthily nervous, but the smile on his face was more than enough evidence of his true feelings. Charlie caught Shay's eye and grinned, attempted to pick up a neutral expression as Ginny and Gabrielle came down the aisle. The music picked up, and everyone turned to watch a beaming and beautiful Fleur glide down the aisle toward an absolutely enamored Bill. When Shay turned to glance back at Bill, however, Charlie wasn't watching the beautiful bride - his eyes, steady and warm, were on her. Shay smiled and tilted her head pointedly toward Fleur. Charlie only shrugged.

The mothers were crying by the time vows were made, mopping up tears with handkerchiefs, struggling to hide the sound of their tears...to no avail.

"...then I declare you bonded for life."
The words seemed to ring, filling the tent. As if everyone had held their breath, waiting to hear those words. And then, while that breath was released, a shower of stars fell from the presider's wand, falling over the entwined hands of the bride and groom. The golden balloons that had created a kind of halo around them burst, turning into singing birds of paradise and tiny, ringing golden bells. Vows finished, the tent was transformed - the walls were lifted away to reveal the sunset orchard, the countryside washed in the warm light, the chairs vanished, a dance floor and tables seemed to spring from the ground. Bottles of champagne bobbed, cheerily independent of human servers, among the crowd, pouring out streams of bubbling golden liquid to anyone who held up a flute. The newlyweds were almost immediately surrounded by well-wishers, Shay in the midst of it all. Fleur hugged her, all smiles, and thanked her profusely for her help. Bill grinned and gave her a quick hug as well. When she'd wished them well she was shuffled through the crowd, nearly losing her balance until Charlie caught her elbow.
"Easy, there," he said. "How much champagne have you had tonight, miss?"
"Funny," Shay said tonelessly, "You're funny."
"And you are beautiful."
Shay felt blood rush to her cheeks, and she looked toward the ground.
"Come on," Charlie said, and tugged her toward the dance floor. Luna Lovegood was already there, dancing happily on her own. She waved at Shay without halting her dance. Ginny and Lee Jordan soon joined the dancers and, soon enough, Ron and Hermione.
"About bloody time," Charlie muttered, gesturing toward the last couple when Shay looked up questioningly.
"How long?"
"Since the idiot met her, practically. She's been over here pretty much every summer since, and everyone but them could see it...painful, really."

The night was all sparkling champagne, whirling colors, and smiling faces. Shay passed between dancing and talking, sometimes on her own, sometimes with Charlie's arm around her waist. The cake was glorious with its two model phoenixes that shot into the air when the confection was cut. As evening fell, golden lanterns lit the tent and the guests became steadily more and more drunk on the wine and champagne and atmosphere. There had been so little to celebrate, recently. So precious little. This was an escape, a beautiful glimpse back into the time of peace that seemed as if it would last forever. As if Voldemort would always be some ineffectual wisp of smoke, curled only on the corner of their consciousness.
They should have known, every single one of them, that it was too good to ever last.

Right in the middle of the revelry, smack in its middle, as guests were beginning to dance more and more willingly, a silvery lynx shot into the mix, and Kingsley Shacklebolt's voice poured out, silencing the commotion to listen as it intoned "The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeous is dead. They are coming".
Disaster. Utter disaster.
And silence.
No one moved for solid seconds, too stunned to think. And then, suddenly, everything was motion. Sharp snaps and cracks, like whips and firecrackers, sounded as the enchantments broke and terrified guests began to Disapparate as Death Eaters Apparated into the fray. Those who couldn't Apparate fled, or tried to, while Order members began to put up Shield Charms as quickly as possible.

Shay had kicked her shoes off immediately, and ran barefoot through the grass, dodging fragments of broken champagne flutes and shattered dishes. Arms, there were arms everywhere - she ducked beneath them, the flailing limbs, and attempted to use the gap to search for a familiar face, any familiar face...but, most importantly, Charlie's. Please, she prayed, oh please let him be alright, I couldn't stand it if...oh please, oh please. Please...

A vicelike grip clenched her elbow and Shay shrieked, kicking and punching at anything she come come close to, trying her best to sling spells at her attacker.
"Hold her still!" Someone commanded, as her wand was taken from her hand. A masked face lowered as whoever held her hand gained control of her other wrist and held her fast.
"Saoirse Morse, I presume," the masked figure said. "Pureblood family. Though not as...clean...as we'd like. Too friendly with Muggles. Take her in for questioning."
"SHAY!"
No. "No!" She screamed, but it was too late. In the time it took for him to react, Death Eaters had wrestled Charlie into their clutches, as well.
"Not to worry," one of their attackers said, "You'll be just fine...if you cooperate."
Just fine, however, appeared to be a relative term. They pushed and shoved, spit, kicked, slapped, punched, and otherwise physically manhandled those who had remained behind until they'd gotten them into "interrogation rooms". Shay had been corralled into an upstairs room.
"Tell us what you know," her shadowed interrogator demanded.
"Please," Shay pleaded, unashamed of the tears escaping her eyes - perhaps they could help prove her innocence - "Please, I don't know anything, I was just here for the wedding, I..."
"Enough! We know you're...involved with Charlie Weasley. His little slut. So we know you must know where his brother and his friends, Harry Potter and the Mudblood, are. We suggest you tell us, or the consequences will be...severe."
"Please, I don't...!"
"CRUCIO!"

Over and over they tried to wrest information from her, information which (thankfully) Shay honestly didn't have. Finally, convinced that the nearly-delirious girl wouldn't be able to tell them anything else, they dragged her down the stairs, head lolling, so heavy, on her neck. They dragged her into the sitting room and roughly thrust her into a chair. Instantly, she was surrounded - Mrs. Weasley pressed a gentle hand to her forehead, smoothed the hair away from her face and held her hand tightly. Ginny touched her shoulder lightly, and Fleur held a glass of cool water to her lips. Shay took the water gratefully and sipped it down, careful not to drink too much too fast, afraid it would make her sick. She'd never known such pain, such excruciating pain. Every muscle hurt, the marrow in her bones hurt, her eyes could hardly stay open so heavy were the lids. And her mind...oh, her mind hurt worst of all. Horribly, suddenly, she understood just how the Longbottoms went mad all those years ago, subjected time and time again to the Cruciatus Curse.
And Charlie. Where was Charlie?
"Char..."
"Shh," Mrs. Weasley murmured, and smiled kindly at the frightened girl. "He hasn't come out yet, my dear, but he'll be alright. He will."
As if on cue, Mrs. Weasley's second-eldest son was thrown unceremoniously into their little holding center, and was offered the same attention that had been given Shay. When he'd recovered enough to move, when he'd finished the water Fleur offered him, he went immediatley to Shay and pulled her into his arms, all but crushing her to him.
"I could hear..." he whispered, voice strangled. "I could hear you. I was just in the next room. They put a full Body-Bind on me, I couldn't speak, couldn't call out to you. They made me listen..."
"I'm okay, Charlie," Shay whispered shakily, though she did not loosen her own hold on him. "We're okay."
He nodded and fell into the chair she had been occupying, then pulled her into his lap. One by one the remaining people were returned, the Burrow was searched from top to bottom and, finally, the Death Eaters left them, leaving terror and the remnants of a broken celebration in their wake.

They stood in the kitchen for a long time in an attempt to gather their scattered nerves, drinking tea and cocoa until fatigue set in. Bill and Fleur had decided to begin their trip to Shell Cottage early - there was no reason to stick around, now, after all. The bride and groom said their farewells and Disapparated, two final pops in the cool early-morning air.
The Ministry has fallen. The words were still echoing in Shay's mind.
The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeous is dead. They are coming.

So many dead. So many dead, already. And there would only be more to come.
The Second Wizarding War had finally, officially started.
Everything was only beginning.
A chill of terror surged through her, turning her veins to ice despite the warmth of one of Charlie's old sweaters. If this was the beginning, fire and attack on the day of a wedding, even attacking the house of poor old Dedalus Diggle...
And so many dead already.
Only more to come.