Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters. Just borrowing them for a story and my own imagination.
Chapter 10
The days leading up to the wedding passed in a flurry of bustling preparations and subtle maneuvering — most of it orchestrated by Molly Weasley, who seemed determined to keep the younger members of the household too busy to even think.
To Hermione — Mia, as she was now more often called by the gang — it felt like Molly was doing it on purpose. Whether it was Ron being dispatched to re-string fairy lights, Harry sent off to fetch crates of butterbeer, or Mia herself recruited for endless last-minute charmwork, the message was clear: stay busy, stay apart.
The gang — Harry, Ron, Sirius, Remus, and herself — hadn't had more than five uninterrupted minutes together since the day of the dream. It was frustrating, to say the least, though perhaps also deliberate. The tension surrounding the strange vision she'd had, the one that still clung to the edges of her memory, hadn't gone unnoticed by the adults. And now, thanks to Remus, the dreams had stopped altogether.
He'd given her the vial quietly, without fanfare.
"Just until the wedding," he said gently, placing the potion in her hand. "You need proper rest, Mia. We'll come back to it after."
And he'd been right. The Dreamless Sleep Potion had done its job. Her nights were now dark and silent, her mind blissfully untroubled. But it left a hollow sensation in her chest, like she was walking away from a path she was meant to follow — even if she didn't yet know where it led.
Still, she couldn't deny how much better she felt physically. She wasn't dragging through the day or snapping at people from sheer fatigue. She had energy. Focus. It was a luxury she hadn't realized she'd been without.
And she was going to need it — especially with what was still to come.
On the morning of July 31st, the Burrow buzzed with barely-contained chaos. The wedding was only a day away, but today was Harry's seventeenth birthday — a milestone by any standard, but especially when it marked his official entrance into the wizarding world as a legal adult. The small group that knew the stakes behind the celebration tried not to show their nerves.
Presents were exchanged early in the day, while Molly was occupied with final checks on the floral arrangements.
Ron had gifted Harry a well-worn copy of Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches, its corners curled and filled with scrawled annotations in the margins. "Worked for me," Ron had said, a little too quickly, before turning red and pretending to study a crack in the floor.
From Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Harry had received a watch that had once belonged to Fabian Prewett — a sturdy, slightly battered thing, but clearly cherished. Molly had misted up as she fastened it to Harry's wrist. "He would've liked you," she'd said simply.
Bill and Fleur had presented Harry with an enchanted razor — charmed not only to shave but to avoid cutting skin entirely. "Eet is safe," Fleur had declared proudly, then added with a wink, "But very manly, no?"
Mia had given him a new Sneakoscope, smaller and sleeker than his old one, with dragon-hide casing and an unbreakable charm.
"I charmed it myself," she'd said softly. "It'll still spin and light up, but now it also hums if there's any stealth magic nearby, not just lies."
Harry had looked genuinely touched. "That's brilliant, Mia."
Remus handed over a well-bound book titled Defensive Magic for the Resourceful Mind. "Advanced spells," he'd explained. "Mostly non-lethal, though there's one or two in there you might want to use only if you're in serious trouble."
And Sirius — ever the rebel — had grinned as he plopped a wrapped bottle onto the table.
"Firewhiskey?" Harry had asked, incredulous and gleeful.
"Only the best," Sirius said proudly.
Mia crossed her arms. "He's seventeen, Sirius."
"He's also the Chosen One, Kitten," Sirius quipped. "Let him have a drink. Preferably not while dueling a Death Eater, but still."
She sighed, but relented with a small smile. "Fine. Just… maybe save it for a special occasion, Harry."
"Like Voldemort's funeral?" Harry asked, grinning. "That special enough?"
"Exactly," Sirius said, clapping him on the back.
Mia couldn't help the exasperated huff of laughter that escaped her.
Later that afternoon, while the garden was being transformed into a makeshift wedding venue under Fleur's exacting standards, Mia wandered away to catch some fresh air. The scent of blooming roses drifted over from the far hedge, and for a moment, she just stood there and let herself breathe.
A few minutes later, she spotted Harry coming up the path from the orchard, looking dazed and rather dreamy.
"Are you okay?" she asked, leaning against the fence.
He nodded slowly. "Yeah. Ginny just… kissed me."
Mia raised a brow. "Oh?"
"I mean, properly kissed me," Harry added quickly. "It was… nice. Sad, kind of. But good."
She softened. "I'm glad."
Harry smiled sheepishly. "I told Sirius. He gave me this look like I'd finally scored a goal or something."
"That sounds about right." Mia chuckled, nudging his arm. "You know, for all the chaos we've been having lately, I think this has been a good day."
"Yeah," he said, quietly. "It really has."
They sat together for a while in the secluded corner, Mia's head on Harry's shoulder, neither saying a word, just enjoying the brief moment of peace they had finally been blessed with.
By evening, the garden had transformed into something straight out of a fairy tale. The tables, long and mismatched, had been pushed end-to-end under the trees, covered in white cloths that flapped gently in the breeze. Fred and George had bewitched floating lanterns — purple with shimmering golden 17s — to drift lazily overhead, casting soft glows over the guests below.
Mia waved her wand, and purple and gold streamers curled themselves around the tree trunks and along the hedges, trailing in loops like lazy ribbons. A few tried to wrap themselves around Percy, who had arrived late and stiff as ever, but George redirected them with a smirk.
"Out of the way, out of the way!" sang Mrs. Weasley, bustling through the back gate with what appeared to be an enormous golden Snitch floating ahead of her.
Mia blinked.
The "Snitch" turned out to be Harry's birthday cake, frosted in gold and white, suspended gently in the air by Molly's wand. It looked like something from a Quidditch final, complete with delicate icing wings and the faint shimmer of edible glitter.
"That looks amazing, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said, eyes wide with wonder.
"Oh, it's nothing, dear," she said fondly, even as her eyes crinkled at the edges with pride. Behind her, Ron gave Harry a subtle thumbs-up and mouthed, Good one.
By seven, everyone had arrived. Charlie leaned back in his chair with a butterbeer, talking dragons with Hagrid. Fred and George took it upon themselves to spike the punch, and Mia made a mental note to steer Ron away from it later.
Hagrid wore his infamous hairy brown suit, clearly proud of the effort, though it looked like it had lost a fight with a thestral. No one dared mention it. Harry, however, complimented his tie, which appeared to be fashioned from some sort of shiny bark.
The food — as expected — was exceptional. Platters appeared and refilled themselves, the treacle tart alone earning three separate rounds of applause. Laughter echoed into the night, the kind of warm, full-bellied laughter that wrapped around the bones and made one feel briefly — impossibly — safe.
Mia sat between Remus and Sirius, watching Harry as he basked in the glow of it all. There was still tension beneath the surface — how could there not be? — but tonight, they had chosen joy. And Mia, for all her anxieties and unanswered questions, couldn't help but feel it seep into her as well.
When it came time for the cake, the golden Snitch centerpiece was lowered into the middle of the table. Seventeen flickering candles lit its surface like tiny stars. Harry looked at them quietly for a long moment, then grinned and leaned forward to blow them out in one strong breath.
Everyone clapped.
Mia didn't. She was too busy making a wish of her own.
Not out loud. Not even whispered.
Just a quiet, hopeful thought buried in the deepest part of her chest.
That this time next year, somehow… against all odds… they'd all be here again. She knew it was a long shot, but for once, she let the tiny flame of hope in her heart burn, hoping, praying for the possibility.
All in all, it was a quiet affair — not too grand, not overdone. But Mia could tell from the massive grin on Harry's face that it had been perfect. As lanterns drifted slowly above them and laughter died down into contented murmurs, she leaned back in her chair and let herself breathe.
It wouldn't last, this peace. The war waited beyond the hedgerows.
But tonight?
Tonight, they had light. They had each other.
And for now… that was enough.
Author's note: I am so, so sorry. I know I said I would update months ago, but life got in the way and I had no bandwidth to write something good for this. To make up for it, I am going to be uploading up to chapter 12 by the end of the day. It is a little rushed, I'm sorry, but I'm keeping it long and double checking it for any mistakes or errors. Please feel free to let me know if I've missed anything.
Thank you all for following along with my little story. I hope it brings you as much joy as it does me.