Sorry it's been awhile. Life is getting in the way. I honestly do not like this chapter much, well some parts of it at least. I'm trying to work in some missing moments, but this chapter only gave me so much. However, there is a small Romione moment, and I know the ones that are so adamant on the big kiss in the Room of Requirement being their first moment will probably not like it, but there is way too much evidence of things going on behind the scenes as well as things that are said for those two not to have some physical moments.

Chapter 192: Ghouly Moments

The shock of losing Mad-Eye hung over the house in the days that followed. We kept expecting to see him stumping in through the back door like the other Order members, who passed in and out to relay news. Harry was beginning to let his guilt get the better of him, so he was getting extra snippy. He also figured that he ought to set out on our mission to find and destroy Horcruxes as soon as possible.

"Well, you can't do anything about the" – I mouthed the word Horcruxes –"till you're seventeen. You've still got the Trace on you. And we can plan here as well as anywhere, can't we? Or, d'you reckon you already know where the You-Know-Whats are?"

"No," Harry sighed.

"I think Hermione's been doing a bit of research," I said. "She said she was saving it for when you got here."

We were sitting at the breakfast table; Dad and Bill had just left for work. Mum had gone upstairs to wake Hermione and Ginny, while Fleur had taken her lovely self off to take a bath.

"The Trace'll break on the thirty-first," said Harry. "That means I only need to stay here four days. Then I can –"

"Five days," I corrected him firmly. "We've got to stay for the 'll kill us if we miss it. It's one extra day."

Harry looked as if he had no concern for the wedding.

"Don't they realize how important –?"

"'Course they don't," I said. "They haven't got a clue. And now you mention it, I wanted to talk to you about that."

I glanced toward the door into the hall to check that Mum wasn't around. Once I seen that the coast was clear, I leaned towards Harry and brought my voice down to a whisper.

"Mum's been trying to get it out of Hermione and me. What we're off to do. She'll try you next, so brace yourself. Dad and Lupin've both asked as well, but when we

said Dumbledore told you not to tell anyone except us, they dropped it. Not Mum, though. She's determined."

"Don't worry about it," said Harry. "As much as I hate lying to your mother, she won't get a thing out of me.

My prediction came true within hours. Shortly before lunch, Mum made up some excuse about a missing sock to get Harry away from us to interrogate.

After that, Mum kept the three of us so busy with wedding prep that we hardly had any time to think. The kindest explanation of this behavior would have been that Mum wanted to distract us all from thoughts of Mad-Eye and the terrors of our recent journey. After two days of nonstop cutlery cleaning, of color-matching favors, ribbons, and flowers, of de-gnoming the garden and helping Mum cook vast batches of canapés, however, I started to suspect her of a different motive.

All the jobs she handed out seemed to keep the three of us away from each other; we had not had a chance to speak alone since the first night, when Harry had told us about You Know Who torturing Ollivander.

We were often joined by other Order members for dinner now, because the Burrow had replaced number twelve, Grimmauld Place as the headquarters. Dad had explained that after the death of Dumbledore, our Secret-Keeper, each of the people to whom Dumbledore had confided Grimmauld Place's location had become a Secret-Keeper in turn. Including us.

"And as there are around twenty of us, that greatly dilutes the power of the Fidelius Charm. Twenty times as many opportunities for the Death Eaters to get the secret out of somebody. We can't expect it to hold much longer."

"But surely Snape will have told the Death Eaters the address by now?" asked Harry.

"Well, Mad-Eye set up a couple of curses against Snape in case he turns up there again. We hope they'll be strong enough both to keep him out and to bind his tongue if he tries to talk about the place, but we can't be sure. It would have been insane to keep using the place as headquarters now that its protection has become so shaky."

The kitchen was so crowded that evening it was difficult to maneuver knives and forks. Hermione was practically sitting on my lap (which I didn't mind at all) and Harry found himself crammed beside Ginny. The two of them looked out of sorts as they awkwardly ate their food.

"No news about Mad-Eye?" Harry asked Bill.

"Nothing," replied Bill.

We had not been able to hold a funeral for Moody, because Bill and Lupin couldn't find his body. No one knew where he had fallen, as it was dark and the battle had caused a lot of confusion.

"The Daily Prophet hasn't said a word about him dying or about finding the body," Bill went on. "But that doesn't mean much. It's keeping a lot quiet these days."

"And they still haven't called a hearing about all the underage magic I used escaping the Death Eaters?" Harry called across the table to Dad, who shook his head.

"Because they know I had no choice or because they don't want me to tell the world Voldemort attacked me?"

"The latter, I think. Scrimgeour doesn't want to admit that You-Know-Who is as powerful as he is, nor that Azkaban's seen a mass breakout."

"Yeah, why tell the public the truth?" said Harry, gripping his knife as if he wanted to take a stab at someone.

"Isn't anyone at the Ministry prepared to stand up to him?" I asked angrily.

"Of course, Ron, but people are terrified," Dad replied, "terrified that they will be next to disappear, their children the next to be attacked! There are nasty rumors going around; I for one don't believe the Muggle Studies professor at Hogwarts resigned. She hasn't been seen for weeks now. Meanwhile Scrimgeour remains shut up in his office all day; I just hope he's working on a plan."

Everyone was quiet as Mum magicked our empty plates onto the work surface and served apple tart.

"We must decide 'ow you will be disguised, 'Arry," said Fleur, once everyone had pudding. "For ze wedding," she added, when he looked confused. "Of course, none of our guests are Death Eaters, but we cannot guarantee zat zey will not let something slip after zey 'ave 'ad champagne."

"Yes, good point," said Mum from the top of the table where she sat, looking over a list of jobs that she had scribbled on a very long piece of parchment. "Now, Ron, have you cleaned out your room yet?"

"Why?" I groaned as I slammed my spoon down and glared. "Why does my room have to be cleaned out? Harry and I are fine with it the way it is!"

"We are holding your brother's wedding here in a few days' time, young man –"

"And are they getting married in my bedroom? "No! So why in the name of Merlin's saggy left –"

"Don't talk to your mother like that," said Dad firmly. "And do as you're told."

I scowled as I pushed around my apple tart. Why the bloody hell do I have to rearrange my room for a wedding that was not happening in there? She was really acting like people were going to go into my room.

"I can help, some of it's my mess." Harry told me, but Mum cut across him.

"No, Harry, dear, I'd much rather you helped Arthur much out the chickens, and Hermione, I'd be ever so grateful if you'd change the sheets for Monsieur and Madame Delacour; you know they're arriving at eleven tomorrow morning."

The three of us shared a look. Yet another attempt to separate us.

I went up to my room and laid down on the bed. I knocked my chocolate frog cards box onto the floor for spite.

Twenty minutes later, Hermione creeped into room. She looked bored.

"Done with wedding shit?" I asked.

"Language, and about as done as I want to be today of it." scoffed Hermione as she sat at the foot of my bed. "Ginny had actually changes the sheets yesterday, so Fleur had me help her with some detail on her dress. She was so demanding of everything, I almost ripped at it on purpose."

I chuckled. "And I thought she was your favorite person. You love Fleur."

"Oh shut it." laughed Hermione, pushing me over. She laid down beside me, her head resting on my outstretched arm.

"I'll be glad when all this is over," I said as I curled a strand of Hermione's hair around my finger. "I would much rather be concentrating on a funeral for Moody you know? Even though the body still hasn't been found."

Hermione shuddered. "I would much rather discuss the wedding, if you don't mind."

"Fine. For you, I'll discuss the wedding. Actually, I did have a question for you about it " I said, suddenly feeling nervous.

"Really? What's that?"

I cleared my throat. It was barmy how she still gave me butterflies.

"I was wondering if I could be your escourt to the wedding." I managed to push out of my lips.

Hermione's eyes bugged a bit, a grin etched her lips. "As friends? Or are you asking me as a date."

The book had said something about letting the witch decide where she wanted things to go. That way she would feel comfortable and more secure with a decision that she made. Also, it would show what she wanted, so you wouldn't be embarrassed and feel like signals were mixed.

"It can be whatever you want," I said.

Hermione blushed. "So if I wanted it to be a date, you would?"

"Of course."

"Then yes, I will." she said in a low voice.

The way she had said it was almost hypnotizing. Everything about Hermione at that moment was turning me on. The way she was looking at me, the softness of her hair, her smell, the way her lips were pouty, it was all intoxicating, and the fact that we were laying so close in my bed didn't help the fact that I wanted her. Badly.

I licked my lips as I looked at hers. I don't know if she took that as an invitation or not, but the next thing I knew, her lips were against mine. I kissed her back as I draped my other arm around her, drawing her into me. She let out a tiny giggle as I know she felt me growing hard against her midsection. I couldn't help it. She was driving me mental, especially since she had put her fingers through my hair and began to gently tug at it.

The kiss depended and I was about to pull her on top of me, when I heard what sounded like someone stomping up the stairs. Both of us froze and opened our eyes. our lips still locked. When the footsteps drew closer, Hermione hopped off of my bed and over to the corner of my room where she had stacked our school books that she had been looking through for time to time. Thinking it was Mum, I sprang up from the bed and gathered up my frog cards from the floor to make it look like I waa doing something.

"I'm doing it, I'm doing – ! Oh, it's you," I said in relie, as Harry entered the room. I laid back down on the bed, trying not to look nervous about potentially being caught snogging my best friend . Hermione , with Crookshanks at her feet, was putting the books into two enormous piles.

"Hi, Harry," she said in a flustered voice as Harry sat down on his camp bed.

"And how did you manage to get away?" he asked her.

"Oh, Ron's mum forgot that she asked Ginny and me to change the sheets yesterday," said Hermione.

She threw Numerology and Gramatica onto one pile and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts onto the other.

"We were just talking about Mad-Eye," I told Harry, trying to quell any suspicion Harry might have had. "I reckon he might have survived."

"But Bill saw him hit by the Killing Curse," said Harry.

"Yeah, but Bill was under attack too," I said. "How can he be sure what he saw?"

"Even if the Killing Curse missed, Mad-Eye still fell about a thousand feet," said Hermione, now weight Quidditch Teams of Britain and Ireland in her hand.

I felt myself getting upset.

"He could have used a Shield Charm –"

"Fleur said his wand was blasted out of his hand," said Harry.

"Well, all right, if you want him to be dead," I grumbled, punching my pillow into a more comfortable shape. It was like they were just writing him off and it made me feel uneasy

"Of course we don't want him to be dead!" said Hermione, looking shocked. "It's dreadful that he's dead! But we're being realistic!"

She was right, of course. No matter what I wanted to believe, the truth was there.

"The Death Eaters probably tidied up after themselves, that's why no one's found him," I said, discouraged.

"Yeah," said Harry. "Like Barty Crouch, turned into a bone and buried in Hagrid's front garden. They probably transfigured Moody and stuffed him –"

"Don't!" squealed Hermione, bursting into tears.

"Oh no," said Harry. "Hermione, I wasn't trying to upset –"

I got up immediately and knelt down beside Hermione. I fished in my jeans pocket and took out a revolting-looking handkerchief that I had used to clean out the oven earlier. I pulled out my wand and said "Tergeo." and cleaned off most of the grease. I then handed the slightly smoking handkerchief to Hermione.

"Oh . . . thanks, Ron. . . . I'm sorry. . . ." She blew her nose hiccupped. "It's just so awful, isn't it? R-right after Dumbledore . . . I j-just n-never imagined Mad-Eye dying, somehow, he seemed so tough!"

"Yeah, I know," I said, putting my arm around her and squeezing her to me. "But you know what he'd say tous if he was here?"

"'C-constant vigilance,'" said Hermione, mopping her eyes.

"That's right," I nodded. "He'd tell us to learn from what happened to him. And what I've learned is not to trust that cowardly little tosser, Mundungus."

Hermione gave a shaky laugh and leaned forward to pick up two more books. Suddenly I felt pain. Hermione had dropped the fucking Monster of Monsters on my foot. The book had broken free from its restraining belt and tried to bite my fucking foot off my ankle.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Hermione cried as Harry wrenched the book from my leg and retied it's belt.

"What are you doing with all those books anyway?" I asked, limping back to my bed.

"Just trying to decide which ones to take with us," said Hermione, "When we're looking for the Horcruxes."

"Oh, of course," I said, clapping a hand to my forehead sarcastically. "I forgot we'll be hunting down Voldemort in a mobile library."

"Ha ha," smirked Hermione, looking down at Spellman's Syllabary. "I wonder . . .will we need to translate runes? It's possible. . . . I think we'd better take it, to be safe."

She dropped the syllabary onto the larger of the two piles and picked up Hogwarts, A History.

"Listen," said Harry, sounding like he was going to say some noble bullshit. "I know you said after Dumbledore's funeral that you wanted to come with me-"

"Here he goes," I said to Hermione, rolling my eyes.

"As we knew he would," she sighed, turning back to the books. "You know, I think I will take Hogwarts, A History. Even if we're not going back there, I don't think I'd feel right if I didn't have it with –"

"Listen!" said Harry again, not liking being ignored.

"No, Harry, you listen," said Hermione. "We're coming with you. That was decided months ago – years, really."

"But –"

"Shut up," I advised him.

"– are you sure you've thought this through?" Harry persisted.

"Let's see," said Hermione, slamming Travels with Trolls onto the discarded pile with a rather fierce look. "I've been packing for days, so we're ready to leave at a moment's notice, which for your information has included doing some pretty difficult magic, not to mention smuggling Mad-Eye's whole stock of Polyjuice Potion right under Ron's mum's nose.

"I've also modified my parents' memories so that they're convinced they're really called Wendell and Monica Wilkins, and that their life's ambition is to move to Australia, which they have now done. That's to make it more difficult for Voldemort to track them down and interrogate them about me – or you, because unfortunately, I've told them quite a bit about you.

"Assuming I survive our hunt for the Horcruxes, I'll find Mum and Dad and lift the enchantment. If I don't – well, I think I've cast a good enough charm to keep them

safe and happy. Wendell and Monica Wilkins don't know that they've got a daughter,you see."

Hermione's eyes were swimming with tears again. I got back off the bed, put my arm around her once more, and frowned at Harry. he had no tact whatsoever. Especially in this situation, where he neglected to think about how much she had sacrificed for him.

Harry looked at us as if he were taken aback by her words. "I – Hermione, I'm sorry – I didn't –"

"Didn't realize that Ron and I know perfectly well what might happen if we come with you? Well, we do. Ron, show Harry what you've done."

"Nah, he's just eaten," I said nervously. I had actually wanted to keep what I had done underwraps from him.

"Go on, he needs to know!" demanded Hermione.

"Oh, all right. Harry, come here."

I withdrew my arm from around Hermione and stumped over to the door.

"C'mon."

"Why?" Harry asked, following me out of the room onto the tiny landing.

"Descendo," I muttered, pointing my wand at the low ceiling. A hatch opened right over our heads and a ladder slid down to our feet. A horrible, half-sucking, half-moaning sound came out of the square hole, along with the horror smell of sewage.

"That's your ghoul, isn't it?" asked Harry

.

"Yeah, it is," I said as I climbed the ladder. "Come and have a look at him."

Harry followed me up the few short steps into the tiny attic space. I pointed to the creature curled up in the fetal position, fast asleep in the gloom with its large mouth wide open.

"But it . . . it looks . . . do ghouls normally wear pajamas?"

"No," I said. "Nor have they usually got red hair or that number of pustules. He's me, see?"

"No," said Harry. "I don't."

"I'll explain it back in my room, the smell's getting to me," I said. feeling like I was going to pass out from the almost toxic fumes.

We climbed back down the ladder, which I returned to the ceiling, and rejoined Hermione,who was still sorting books.

"Once we've left, the ghoul's going to come and live down here in my room,"I explained. "I think he's really looking forward to it – well, it's hard to tell, because all he can do is moan and drool – but he nods a lot when you mention it. Anyway, he's going to be me with spattergroit. Good, eh?"

Harry gave me a confused look.

"It is," I said, frustrated that Harry couldn't see how fucking brilliant my plan was. "Look, when we three don't turn up at Hogwarts again, everyone's going to think Hermione and I must be with you, right? Which means the Death Eaters will go straight for our families to see if they've got information on where you are."

"But hopefully it'll look like I've gone away with Mum and Dad; a lot of Muggle-borns are talking about going into hiding at the moment," said Hermione.

"We can't hide my whole family, it'll look too fishy and they can't all leave their jobs, so we're going to put out the story that I'm seriously ill with spattergroit, which is why I can't go back to school. If anyone comes calling to investigate, Mum or Dad can show them the ghoul in my bed, covered in 's really contagious, so they're not going to want to go near him. It won't matter that he can't say anything, either, because apparently you can't once the fungus has spread to your uvula."

"And your mum and dad are in on this plan?" asked Harry.

"Dad is. He helped Fred and George transform the ghoul. Mum . . . well, you've seen what she's like. She won't accept we're going till we're gone."

There was silence in the room, broken only by gentle thuds as Hermione continued to throw books onto one pile or the other. I watched as she would open one and scan through a couple of pages, and then decided on what pile to put them in. I still felt like between the both of us, she had given up the most, and i wished that it hadn't been that way.

Through the silence came the muffled sounds of Mum shouting from four floors below.

"Ginny's probably left a speck of dust on a poxy napkin ring," I joked. "I dunno why the Delacours have got to come two days before the wedding."

"Fleur's sister's a bridesmaid, she needs to be here for the rehearsal, and she's too young to come on her own," said Hermione, as she seemed to be indecisive over a book.

"Well, guests aren't going to help Mum's stress levels," I said crossing her arms. I knew that she would take her stress out on others, especially me, and I was not in the mood for it.

"What we really need to decide," said Hermione, tossing Defensive Magical Theory into the bin without a second glance and picking up another book, "is where we're going after we leave here. I know you said you wanted to go to Godric's Hollow first, Harry, and I understand why, but . . . well . . .shouldn't we make the Horcruxes our priority?"

"If we knew where any of the Horcruxes were, I'd agree with you," said Harry grumpily.

"Don't you think there's a possibility that Voldemort's keeping a watch on Godric's Hollow?" Hermione asked. "He might expect you to go back and visit your parents' graves once you're free to go wherever you like?"

Harry looked as if the thought never crossed his mind.

"This R.A.B. person,"I said. "You know, the one who stole the real locket?"

Hermione nodded.

"He said in his note he was going to destroy it, didn't he?"

Harry dragged his rucksack toward him and pulled out the fake Horcrux in which R.A.B.'s note was still folded.

"'I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can.'" Harry read out.

"Well, what if he did finish it off?" I said.

"Or she." said Hermione.

"Whichever, it'd be one less for us to do!"

"Yes, but we're still going to have to try and trace the real locket, aren't we?" said Hermione, "to find out whether or not it's destroyed."

"And once we get hold of it, how do you destroy a Horcrux?" I asked in a huff.

"Well," said Hermione, "I've been researching that."

"How?" asked Harry. "I didn't think there were any books on Horcruxes in the library?"

"There weren't," said Hermione, beginning to look like a child who got caught with her hand in a biscuit jar. "Dumbledore removed them all, but he – he didn't destroy them."

"How in the name of Merlin's pants have you managed to get your hands on those Horcrux books?" I said, astonished.

"It – it wasn't stealing!" said Hermione, looking from Harry to me with a kind of desperation. "They were still library books, even if Dumbledore had taken them off the shelves. Anyway, if he really didn't want anyone to get at them, I'm sure he would have made it much harder to –"

"Get to the point!" I said, patting the bed.

"Well . . . it was easy," said Hermione in a small voice. "I just did a Summoning Charm. You know – Accio. And – they zoomed out of Dumbledore's study window right into the girls' dormitory."

"But when did you do this?" Harry asked

.

"Just after his – Dumbledore's – funeral," said Hermione in an even smaller voice."Right after we agreed we'd leave school and go and look for the Horcruxes. When I went back upstairs to get my things it – it just occurred to me that the more we knew about them, the better it would be . . . and I was alone in there . . . so I tried . . . and it worked. They flew straight in through the open window and I – I packed them. I can't believe Dumbledore would have been angry, it's not as though we're going to use the information to make a Horcrux,is it?"

I smiled. I was impressed. "Can you hear us complaining? Where are these books anyway?"

Hermione rummaged for a moment and then extracted from the pile a large volume, bound in faded black leather. She looked a little nauseated and held it out if it were something recently dead.

"This is the one that gives explicit instructions on how to make a Horcrux. Secrets Of the Darkest Art – it's a horrible book, really awful, full of evil magic. I wonder when Dumbledore removed it from the library. . . . if he didn't do it until he was headmaster, I bet Voldemort got all the instruction he needed from here."

"Why did he have to ask Slughorn how to make a Horcrux, then, if he'd already read that?" I asked.

"He only approached Slughorn to find out what would happen if you split your soul into seven," said Harry. "Dumbledore was sure Riddle already knew how to make a Horcrux by the time he asked Slughorn about them. I think you're right, Hermione, that could easily have been where he got the information."

"And the more I've read about them," said Hermione, "the more horrible they seem, and the less I can believe that he actually made six. It warns in this book how unstable you make the rest of your soul by ripping it, and that's just by making one Horcrux!"

"Isn't there any way of putting yourself back together?" I asked.

"Yes," said Hermione with a hollow smile, "but it would be excruciatingly painful."

"Why? How do you do it?" asked Harry.

"Remorse," said Hermione. "You've got to really feel what you've done. There's a footnote. Apparently the pain of it can destroy you. I can't see Voldemort attempting it somehow, can you?"

"No," I said, shaking my head. "So does it say how to destroy Horcruxes in that book?"

"Yes," said Hermione, now turning the fragile pages as if examining rotting entrails, "because it warns Dark wizards how strong they have to make the enchantments on them. From all that I've read, what Harry did to Riddle's diary was one of the few really foolproof ways of destroying a Horcrux."

"What, stabbing it with a basilisk fang?" asked Harry.

"Oh well, lucky we've got such a large supply of basilisk fangs, then," I scoffed."I was wondering what we were going to do with them."

"It doesn't have to be a basilisk fang," said Hermione patiently, though I sensed she was over my sarcastic shenanigans. "It has to be something so destructive that the Horcrux can't repair itself. Basilisk venom only has one antidote, and it's incredibly rare –"

"– phoenix tears," said Harry, nodding.

"Exactly," said Hermione. "Our problem is that there are very few substances as destructive as basilisk venom, and they're all dangerous to carry around with you. That's a problem we're going to have to solve, though, because ripping, smashing, or crushing a Horcrux won't do the trick. You've got to put it beyond magical repair."

"But even if we wreck the thing it lives in," I said, "why can't the bit of soul in it just go and live in something else?"

"Because a Horcrux is the complete opposite of a human being. Look, if I picked up a sword right now, Ron, and ran you through with it, I wouldn't damage your soul at all."

"Which would be a real comfort to me, I'm sure," I said, clutching my chest as Harry laughed.

"It should be, actually! But my point is that whatever happens to your body, your soul will survive, untouched," said Hermione. "But it's the other way round with a

Horcrux. The fragment of soul inside it depends on its container, its enchanted body, for survival. It can't exist without it."

"That diary sort of died when I stabbed it," said Harry.

"And once the diary was properly destroyed, the bit of soul trapped in it could no longer exist. Ginny tried to get rid of the diary before you did, flushing it away, but obviously it came back good as new."

"Hang on," I said, frowning over trying to process everything. "The bit of soul in that diary was possessing Ginny, wasn't it? How does that work, then?"

"While the magical container is still intact, the bit of soul inside it can flit in and out of someone if they get too close to the object. I don't mean holding it for too long, it's nothing to do with touching it, I mean close emotionally. Ginny poured her heart out into that diary, she made herself incredibly vulnerable. You're in trouble if you get too fond of or dependent on the Horcrux."

I had already felt bad Ginny had to go through the whole diary fiasco, but now knowing that she had had You Know Who's soul lurking inside of her from time to made made me feel disgusted. I couldn't imagine how that may have felt to her.

"I wonder how Dumbledore destroyed the ring?" said Harry, pulling me away from my thoughts. "Why didn't I ask him? I never really . . ."

His voice trailed away. He looked as if he was now into one in deep thought.

The silence was shattered as the bedroom door flew open with a wall-shaking crash. Hermione shrieked and dropped the mangy book; Crookshanks streaked under the bed, hissing indignantly; I jumped off the bed, skidded on a discarded Chocolate Frog wrapper, and smacked my head on the opposite wall. I felt a bit dazed as I spied Mum, whose hair was disheveled and whose face was contorted with rage.

"I'm so sorry to break up this cozy little gathering," she said, her voice trembling."I'm sure you all need your rest . . . but there are wedding presents stacked in my room that need sorting out and I was under the impression that you had agreed to help."

"Oh yes," said Hermione, looking terrified as she leapt to her feet, sending books flying in every direction. "we will . . . we're sorry . . ."

With an anguished look at Harry and I, Hermione hurried out of the room after Mum.

"it's like being a fucking house-elf," I complained in an undertone, still massaging my aching head as Harry and I followed. "Except without the job satisfaction. The sooner this wedding's over, the happier, I'll be."

"Yeah," said Harry, "then we'll have nothing to do except find Horcruxes. . . .It'll be like a holiday, won't it?"

I started to laugh, but at the sight of the enormous pile of wedding presents waiting for us in Mum's room, stopped quite abruptly.

The Delacours arrived the following morning at eleven o' clock. The three of us were feeling quite resentful toward Fleur's family by this time. I was made to go change my socks as they did not match, and Harry attempted to flatten his hair. Once we had all been deemed smart enough, we trooped out into the sunny backyard to await the visitors.

Everything looked way too tidy for my liking. Why was it so important to impress these people? If they weren't going to accept us as we were, I didn't want any part of them.

The first sound of their approach was an unusually high-pitched laugh, which turned out to be coming from Dad, who appeared at the gate laden with luggage and leading a beautiful blonde woman in long, leaf green robes, who had to be Fleur's mother.

"Maman!" cried Fleur, rushing forward to embrace her. "Papa!"

Monsieur Delacour was nowhere near as attractive as his wife; he was a head shorter and extremely plumb, with a little, pointed black beard. However, he looked good-natured. He kissed Mum twice on each cheek, leaving her flustered.

"You 'ave been so much trouble," he said in a deep voice. "Fleur tells us you 'ave been working very 'ard."

"Oh, it's been nothing, nothing!" said Mum. truly flattered. "No trouble at all!"

No trouble indeed. Especially since we did all the bloody work. I kick at a gnome who was peering out from behind one of the new Flutterby bushes, making me feel a tad bit better.

"Dear lady!" said Monsieur Delacour, still holding Mum's hand between his own two plump ones and beaming. "We are most honored at the approaching union of our two families! Let me present my wife, Apolline."

Madame Delacour glided forward and stooped to kiss Mum too. This was all a bit too stuffy for my taste, but for the sake of not being lectured, I kept my disgust to a minimum.

"Enchantée," she said. "Your 'usband 'as been telling us such amusing stories!"

Dad laughed, to which Mum gave him a look, upon which he became immediately silent and looked as if he was one of us kids that had been caught doing something wrong.

"And, of course, you 'ave met my leetle daughter, Gabrielle!" said Monsieur Delacour. Gabrielle was basically an eleven year old tiny Fleur with waist-length hair of pure, silvery blonde. She smiled widely at Mum and gave her a hug. Then, she gave Harry a look of pure awe and batted her eyelashes a few times. Ginny cleared her throat loudly. Guess she didn't approve.

"Well, come in, do!" said Mum cheerfully, and she ushered the Delacours into the house, with many "No, please!"s and "After you!"s and "Not at all!"s.

It was enough to make me sick.

On the upside, the Delacours, surprisingly, were pretty alright people. They were pleased with everything and was very helpful with wedding prep, something that I was thrilled about. Monsieur Delacour pronounced everything from the seating plan to the bridesmaids' shoes "Charmant!" Madame Delacour was almost better at cleaning charms than Mum was. having successfully made our oven cleaner than it have been in years; Gabrielle was like Fleur's shadow, following her around and trying to help in any way she could, speed talking in French.

On the downside, the Burrow was not built to accommodate so many people. Mum and Dad had given up their room to Monsieur and Madame Delacour, despite their protests. They were now sleeping in the sitting room. Gabrielle was sleeping with Fleur in Percy's old room, and Bill would be sharing with Charlie, his best man, once Charlie arrived from Romania.

Opportunities to make plans together became virtually nonexistent, and it was in desperation that Harry, Hermione, and I took to volunteering to feed the chickens just to escape the overcrowded house.

"But she still won't leave us alone!" I snarled, and our second attempt at a meeting in the yard was foiled by the appearance of Mum carrying a large basket of laundry in her arms.

"Oh, good, you've fed the chickens," she called as she approached us. "We'd better shut them away again before the men arrive tomorrow . . . to put up the tent for the wedding," she explained, pausing to lean against the hen-house. She looked exhausted."Millamant's Magic Marquees . . . they're very good. Bill's escorting them. . . . You'd better stay inside while they're here, Harry. I must say it does complicate organizing a wedding, having all these security spells around the place."

"I'm sorry," said Harry.

"Oh, don't be silly, dear!" said Mum, giving Harry a pat on the cheek. "I didn't mean – well, your safety's much more important! Actually, I've been wanting to ask you how you want to celebrate your birthday, Harry. Seventeen, after all, it's an important day. . . ."

"I don't want a fuss," said Harry, waking his arms in surrender. "Really, Mrs. Weasley, just a normal dinner would be fine. It's the day before the wedding. . . ."

"Oh, well, if you're sure, dear. I'll invite Remus and Tonks, shall I? And how about Hagrid?"

"That'd be great," said Harry. "But please, don't go to loads of trouble."

"Not at all, not at all . It's no trouble."

As Mum walked off, I leaned over to Harry and whispered in his ear. "You know she's going to make it a big deal, alright mate?"

Harry chucked a hand full of feathers at me.