THE KILLING MOON - CHAPTER 3
When Harry's eyes fluttered open, he thought he could smell tea and the diffused smell of wood polish. He felt numb, and his mouth tasted like blood. He choked slightly against the taste, and someone moved rapidly to his side.
'Harry, don't move,' said Auror Blanche.
His head roved around Harry's eyes, but he couldn't quite make out his features; not without his glasses on.
'Don't think I can,' Harry said through a ragged breath.
Even though his glasses were lost to him, Harry knew they were in the small house they had created as a base. The house was small and furnished in dust-covered wooden furniture draped with old patched fabrics.
'Here, drink some of this,' he said and cradled Harry's neck as Harry pressed his lips to the cup. The liquid inside smelt awful, but when Harry gulped at it, it tasted like tea. In fact, he noticed that it tasted exactly like Mrs. Weasley's tea. This lifted his spirits slightly and he smiled satisfactorily.
'That should help with the pain,' Blanche inclined as he placed Harry's head back against the pillow on the sofa.
If the potion were helping with the pain, Harry couldn't sense it. His whole body ached. But he was glad his glasses weren't on his face, he felt sure the sight of the wounds to his chest would only make him feel worse.
Harry was staring at the ceiling, trying to take his mind far away from the horrid pain when another bout of pain coursed through him. Someone was at his side, dabbing at the wounds across his chest.
Harry screamed out and suddenly his vision was filled with several people.
'Is that portkey ready yet?' one of them called into the room.
'Nearly,' another voice cried.
'We can't stop the bleeding,' replied the other voice.
Harry's head swam dizzily. He was sure he was about to pass out, most likely from blood loss according to his fellow Aurors. Harry felt like every sense, every movement, and every conscious thought was ebbing away. He closed his eyes and his head fell to the side.
Ginny tilted her head to the side and smiled in pleasant surprise. She was wearing a gorgeous peach-coloured dress. The hem fell above her knees and dropped to the floor behind her legs. The dress had thick straps running up her shoulders and the imprint of butterflies across the tight bodice.
Ginny moved out of the changing room and approached Hermione who sat on the stool in the centre of the floor of Madam Malkins.
'What do you think?' Hermione asked with a deep squint of her eyes.
Ginny smiled. 'I'll admit, when you told me it was peach, I was worried about it clashing with my hair, but this dress is gorgeous.'
Hermione's expression unfurled. 'Oh, thank Dumbledore,' she sighed and clapped her hands together in joy.
From the other changing rooms, dressed identically to Ginny, came Angelina, Fleur, and Penelope. All wearing bright smiles on their faces.
'I theenk the straps could be theener,' Fleur winced but Hermione shrugged her shoulders.
Ginny watched as Angelina fiddled with different hairstyles in the mirror in front of them.
'Are we having our hair up, Hermione?' she asked. 'Otherwise, you won't see these butterflies,' she smiled, and her fingers fluttered over the peach-coloredd butterflies.
'I think so,' Hermione nodded, 'but I don't want updos, I'm hoping to find something that plaits the hair around the crown of the head,' she said and mimed the hairstyle around her head.
'Whatever it is you decide,' Fleur said, 'I am happy to do it.'
'Thank you,' Hermione grinned.
With Fleur in charge of the hairstyles, Angelina, the flowers, and Penelope, in charge of catering with Mrs. Weasley, the only job left for Ginny was to take charge of Ron's ushers. And unfortunately, enough, the majority of the ushers were her own brothers. If Ginny were fearing anything about Ron and Hermione's wedding, it would be herding her brothers into action all day.
'Now,' Hermione grinned widely, standing up from her stool, 'are you ready to see the best part about the dresses?'
Ginny exchanged a glance with Angelina.
'Stand together in a line,' Hermione ushered.
They moved to stand next to each other.
Hermione stood in front of them, a strange excitement dancing in her eyes. 'Okay,' she beamed, 'I now declare you bonded for life.'
When Hermione had recited the final words of the ceremony, the butterflies covering the bodices of their dresses began to flutter into life. Soon, they detached themselves and fluttered all around them.
Ginny watched them in awe as they circled each other and ran around their heads while depositing peach-colored confetti. It truly was incredible to watch.
That evening, as Ginny watched the bubbling kettle in Ron and Hermione's apartment, she wondered if Hermione had relaxed at all over the past couple of weeks. All of the demands of the wedding were weighing heavily on her expression.
'Hermione,' Ginny ventured; as Hermione fluttered around the kitchen in search of mugs and tea bags. 'Don't you think you should take a minute to relax …'
Before Ginny could finish her thought, Ron came bustling into the kitchen, bringing with him a cold breeze and a reddened nose.
'Alright,' he said emphatically.
Hermione turned to him quickly. 'Any news on Harry?' she uttered rapidly.
And Ginny realised that it wasn't just the wedding that was causing Hermione to look stressed. They had all been worried about Harry, but Ron and Hermione knew him better than anyone, and if they started to worry, then so did everyone else.
'They've organised a portkey for them all to come back,' Ron nodded but his face had turned sour. 'Harry needs to go to St. Mungos,' he said quietly.
'What's happened?' Hermione said, nearly dropping the mugs in her hands.
Ron shook his head. 'We're not sure how bad it is, but he's been attacked by an Alpha werewolf.'
Hermione sank into her seat. Ginny swallowed the uncomfortable lump in her throat.
'So, you don't know how bad the damage is?' Ginny asked with clenched teeth.
'Not yet,' Ron mumbled and joined them at the table.
Unbidden in Ginny's mind, came the image of Bill after his attack by Fenrir Greyback. But Ginny couldn't let her mind wander to the possibility of Harry having deep visceral scars across his face, he had already suffered enough.