Four Weddings & A Funeral by JanieB

Rating: NC17
Genres: Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 16/04/2005
Last Updated: 23/12/2005
Status: Completed

This is the sequel to "Day by Day" but should (I hope!) be perfectly readable without
having read my earlier story. "Weddings" picks up where "Day by Day" left off
and follows the mishaps, adventures, fun times and dreadful times had by all the main characters
from "Day by Day". Happy ending eventually of course!




1. Four Weddings & A Funeral - Chapter One
------------------------------------------

Author’s Note:

Hi all! *waves* Rightio, my much-loved readers (and adored reviewers!), here’s the thing: this
fic is the sequel to my previous fic, “Day by Day” and even if you haven’t read that, this fic
should still (I think) be perfectly readable as I’ve written the start of this chapter to cover the
main points of the previous fic (although it’s damn hard to condense 18 chapters I’ve discovered!).
However, feel free at any time to read “Day by Day” and leave reviews (I am a total review junkie!)
– and here’s a link just in case you feel the urge – just right click and “Open Hyperlink” (I’m not
really cluey about these things and I just couldn’t get a link that took you straight to the story
– something to do with the rating perhaps?) http://fanfiction.portkey.org/story/3304

Also, please feel free to comment on where you think the various storylines might go in this fic
because I was actually swayed by some of the things written in reviews for Day by Day! So, here’s
where I finish and “Four Weddings & A Funeral” begins…

Lady Jane xxxxoooo

PS Dear Tennant: No days to daze me!

FOUR WEDDINGS & A FUNERAL

By Lady Jane

Chapter One

As he slowly woke, lazily stretching the sleep from his muscles, Ron gazed out the window at the
morning sky as it lightened and since they were all here together this weekend his thoughts drifted
to his friends…*how Harry and Hermione seemed as happy as two pigs in mud – although they
probably wouldn’t appreciate that comparison!* he laughed to himself. *And Neville and his new
girlfriend, Priscilla (Hermione’s friend and assistant from work), seemed very happy together and
then there was his little sister, Ginny – getting engaged to Dean! Who would’ve thought she’d end
up with Dean Thomas, one of his old dorm mates from Hogwarts?! Still, he was a good bloke and he
couldn’t wish for anyone better for her. His smile became a little wider as he thought of his own
girlfriend, Luna…then he frowned. Too bad his mum was so old fashioned that even though he and Luna
were living together in London, here at the Burrow they had separate rooms.*

*He looked over at the other still-sleeping occupants of his room with a wry smile. Harry and
Dean. At least he wasn’t the only victim of his mum’s old fashioned ideas. Harry and Hermione were
living together too, although to start with, Harry had just been **staying** with Hermione…*
Ron chuckled aloud. *That state of affairs hadn’t taken too long to change! Dean and Ginny still
each had their own flats but he didn’t think that would be the case for much longer as Ginny was
spending more and more time at Dean’s. And they were all here for today - the day of Dean and
Ginny’s engagement party. The whole Weasley family would be together for the first time in quite a
few years as even Percy was coming, although only for a couple of hours but his mum was very happy
about that. His older brothers Bill and Charlie (with Bill’s wife Fleur and Charlie’s latest clutch
of dragon eggs that he’d brought with him and which were snugly nestled in the kitchen fire) and of
course the twins, Fred and George, were all here too, which made for a rather full house! It had
made it necessary for his mum and dad to magically expand the Burrow just for the weekend to fit
everyone in! It was gonna be some party he decided happily and with Luna there…although, really,
he’d much rather Luna was **here** rather than **there**... he threw his arm across his face;
thinking about Luna was both a good thing and a bad thing right now…he groaned softly…bugger his
mum’s old fashioned morals!*

²²²²²²²² ²²²²²²²² ²²²²²²²² ²²²²²²²²

As sleep slowly left him, Harry became aware of the light filtering through his eyelids so he
knew it must be morning. But he didn’t open his eyes straight away - he wanted to just lie still
and savour the memory of last night…*last night he’d proposed to Hermione and she’d said yes!*
A wonderful feeling swept through him as he relived the memory. For the moment it was his and
Hermione’s secret but he didn’t think it would be for very much longer, after all… *Hermione was
wearing an engagement ring – the same ring his father had put on his mother’s hand when he’d
proposed. Harry hadn’t been sure Hermione would want such a ring – she might have wanted her
**own** ring – but she’d been completely and utterly delighted with it.* He couldn’t help
smiling*. He loved the thought of her “showing off” her ring. Just thinking about the fact that
Hermione loved him and they were getting married – **that’s** all that really mattered. Hermione
and her love was all he needed. Although,* he thought ruefully, very aware of another certain
*growing* need, *something a little more substantial than Hermione’s love would be a
wonderful thing right at this moment …Hermione **herself** for instance, here, with him, her
lovely softness pressed up against him as it usually was each morning, her soft lips saying his
name in that unspeakably sexy, husky, morning voice…*he rolled over and groaned into his pillow;
maybe they’d be able to Apparate home straight after the party tonight – he didn’t know if he could
last another night…

²²²²²²²² ²²²²²²²² ²²²²²²²² ²²²²²²²²

Dean stirred, reaching out for Ginny…only she wasn’t there. *Shit! That’s right – we’re not at
home, damn it!* He groaned softly as he remembered that he was at the Burrow sharing a room with
Harry and Ron. *Neither were his type*… he smiled at his own weak attempt at humour, then he
frowned; *he didn’t know how he’d get through another night – or morning, for that matter -
without Ginny being with him.* He sighed. *Thankfully, she seemed to be back to her old self
after the whole Hermione-kidnap episode and Draco-fucking-Malfoy melodrama. Draco Malfoy. Dean felt
his blood run cold. Draco Malfoy needed to be dead in his opinion. He’d been released from Azkaban
prison in exchange for passing on information to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement
regarding most of the remaining Death Eaters still at large – information which his father, Lucius,
had given to him. All to save his own skin.* Dean felt a strong wave of bitterness sweep over
him at the memory of Malfoy’s interrogation by Neville Longbottom. Malfoy had claimed he was being
framed for Hermione Granger’s kidnapping and he wanted to prove his innocence. It had done so, but
in one respect it had backfired terribly…

*(The following is an excerpt from Chapter 12 of “Day by Day” where Draco Malfoy is being
questioned by Neville Longbottom after the lawful administration of Veritaserum in the presence of
Harry, Dean, Ginny, Ron and Luna, in an attempt to obtain information as to the whereabouts of
Hermione):*

Neville nodded, then looked around at each of the others. ‘That’s what we’re going to do,
everyone. We will set up an operation and tomorrow night we’ll bring these two (*Jugson and
Mulciber, both Death Eaters - FYI*) into custody, give them Veritaserum and get Hermione back.’
Turning back to Malfoy, he asked him, ‘Do you think either of these men would in any way harm
Hermione?’

‘I don’t know.’

Neville leaned closer to Malfoy. ‘One last thing, Malfoy, I’m just curious; who’s the girlfriend
you’d been to see?’

This time Neville was sure: Malfoy visibly shuddered. Then he spoke, as he had to.

‘She’s not my girlfriend; I simply said that to cover myself.’

‘So who did you see that night? Did you tell Jugson and Mulciber?’

‘Yes, I told them. They know her. I said it was Ginevra Weasley.’

There was a collective gasp from around the room. Dean’s eyes snapped to Ginny who was gaping at
Malfoy. Neville held up his hand to stave off anything being said.

‘So they think that Ginny is your girlfriend?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why did you use Ginny’s name?’

‘Because I love her. Because she should be my girlfriend.’

Pandemonium ensued.

*(End of excerpt)*

Dean shuddered. The memory of that time in Neville’s office wouldn’t be easy to put aside. Nor
would the memory of that whole episode when Ginny pretended to be Malfoy’s girlfriend that night at
the Leaky Cauldron, the night of Hermione’s rescue. Or the time Malfoy had Apparated into Ginny’s
flat…or the fact that Malfoy had had the gall to kiss Ginny the night they caught the kidnapping
Death Eaters. Dean gave himself a severe mental shake. *Forget fucking Malfoy. He was as good as
dead with his escaped father after him. Good riddance.* He took his thoughts back to Ginny and
found himself relaxing. She was his and that’s all that mattered.

²²²²²²²² ²²²²²²²² ²²²²²²²² ²²²²²²²²

Hermione woke up wondering for a second where she was until she remembered: the Burrow.

The next second she remembered something else and let out a squeal, waking Luna and Ginny who
grumbled at her.

‘What the hell are you making that racket for?’ grouched Ginny as she lifted her head and looked
over at the lump in the bed across the room that was Hermione. When Hermione’s hand – her left, of
course – shot straight in the air from beneath the duvet, her fingers extended as she slowly turned
her hand, Ginny made a loud, strange sound. Luna lifted her head and said rather sleepily, ‘What?
What’s up?’

‘Hermione Granger!’ yelled Ginny. ‘Is that an engagement ring?’

Ginny bounded out of bed and practically landed on Hermione, grabbing her outstretched hand.
Hermione pushed herself up with her other hand, laughing as she tried to brush her hair out of her
eyes, nodding at her friend.

‘Engagement ring?’ muttered Luna, who was busy pushing her own blonde locks out of her face as
she walked a little unevenly across the room, not yet completely awake.

‘Tell me everything instantly!’ demanded Ginny, bouncing on the bed.

‘Only if you stop that infernal bouncing now!’ cried Hermione, who was being bounced along with
Ginny, although she couldn’t help but laugh.

‘Luna, quickly, come and listen to this!’ called Ginny impatiently.

So she told them, savouring those moments from last night all over again. Ginny had tears in her
eyes and hugged Hermione when she finished.

Luna gave her a misty smile reminiscent of Professor’s Trelawney’s and congratulated her. ‘I
wonder if Ron will ever think to propose to me?’ she wondered.

The other girls assured her he would when the time was right, although Ginny thought he’d
probably need a little *gentle* sisterly prodding.

At the same time, down in the kitchen, Neville and Priscilla were sitting at the table sipping
steaming cups of tea, Mrs Weasley fussing over them. She’d already given Mr Weasley his breakfast
and shooed him out into the garden with his wand and orders to “make it respectable and get rid of
those wretched gnomes!” The gnome-sized screams of the potato-like creatures as they were swung
around and then let go was equalled only by Crookshanks’ agonised yowls as his favourite toys were
sent soaring off, one by one, into the distance.

Neville and Priscilla’s quiet breakfast tête-à-tête was interrupted by the arrival of three very
excited and loudly giggling girls.

‘Ginny! Hermione! Luna!’ admonished Mrs Weasley, turning from the sink to frown at them. Her
frown disappeared in an instant, however, when Ginny grabbed Hermione’s wrist and waved it at her
mother, crying, ‘Look at this Mum!’ Hermione found her ring hand suddenly grasped by Mrs Weasley’s
two warm, strong hands, her beaming gaze going from Hermione’s hand to her face. ‘Oh my dear! This
is wonderful! When did it happen? Oh I’m so happy! Two engagements to celebrate! It’s all too
much!’ and so saying she engulfed Hermione in a warm Weasley hug, small, happy sobs issuing from
somewhere in the vicinity of Hermione’s shoulder. Hermione, who didn’t feel as though she’d stopped
smiling since she’d woken up, patted Mrs Weasley on the shoulder as she hugged her back.

‘What’s going on? Is breakfast ready?’

Ginny and Luna both rolled their eyes.

‘Ron, breakfast isn’t *everything!* For instance - Hermione and Harry are engaged!’ Ginny
told him gleefully as Luna made her way to where he’d stopped in shock at his sister’s words.
*Breakfast isn’t everything? Had she taken leave of her senses?! And Harry and Hermione were
what?*

Luna put her arms around his neck and smiled up at him. ‘Good morning!’ she said happily.

‘Good morning,’ said Ron automatically. ‘What’s going on? Harry and Hermione engaged did you
say?’

‘Who’s engaged?’ came Dean’s voice as he came down the stairs, followed by Fred, George and
Charlie who each echoed Dean’s words creating quite a racket.

Everyone jumped at the sound of a loud *crack!* and looked around to see Harry hugging a
very surprised Hermione.

Mrs Weasley immediately went to Harry and hugged him, congratulating them both again.

‘Hmph!’ Fred and George made the same disgusted noise. ‘We’d’ve been given a right old telling
off,’ said George, ‘if it’d been *us* Apparating into the kitchen!’ finished Fred. Charlie and
Dean just laughed at their grumbling. Bill and Fleur came down the stairs last and what with all
the hugs and kisses and congratulations and shaking of hands, it was a good ten minutes before
anyone sat down, Mrs Weasley busily waving her wand to keep up with the demand for cups of tea and
slices of toast.

‘Where’s the bacon, eggs and sausages?’ griped Ron.

‘No time for that today, I have *far* too much to be getting on with for the party
tonight,’ his mother told him tartly.

Ron gave Ginny a disgruntled look. ‘*You* get engaged and *I’m* starved for it!’

‘Ron, you’re such a total prat!’ Ginny told him dismissively.

Luna patted him consolingly on the arm. ‘Just think, honey, about all the wonderful food
there’ll be at the party tonight.’

As Luna’s words sunk in, a slow smile spread across Ron’s face. ‘True,’ he said, thoughtfully.
‘In which case I’d better make sure I’ve got plenty of room for it all and not overeat today!’

Mr Weasley came in the back door as Ron spoke, looking a little dishevelled and not a little hot
and sticky. ‘I’ve never known you *not* to overeat Ron!’ he told his son with a smile, having
caught his last few words. Then he turned to his wife, ‘Well, Molly, I don’t think there’s a garden
gnome within a mile! Any chance of a quick cuppa before my next lot of chores dear?’

Crookshanks walked in, his tail swishing in the air with disgust, giving Mr Weasley a piercing
glare as he stalked past him, heading for his favourite spot in front of the fire.

‘Maybe we should get him his own personal garden gnome,’ Harry said to Hermione, watching as
Crookshanks settled himself; everyone knew Crookshanks’ view on garden gnomes – they were his own
personal toys!

Hermione laughed, then as Hedwig landed on the open window sill, she remembered something.
‘Harry, could I use Hedwig to owl my parents? I want to tell them as soon as possible – although I
think they rather expected it!’

Harry leaned down and kissed the side of her neck. ‘Of course you can,’ he told her.

Hermione brought her hand up to cup his face, running her thumb over the roughness of his
unshaven cheek.

‘I wish we were at home,’ she murmured.

‘Oh, so do I, so do I!’ was Harry’s adamant reply, his green eyes glowing intensely behind his
glasses causing Hermione’s heart to skip a beat.

‘Have you finished breakfast?’ asked Hermione.

Harry nodded. ‘Why?’

‘Follow me,’ she whispered.

The kitchen was so full of people and chatter that aside from a quick smile or a small wave, no
one thought anything of Harry and Hermione going upstairs. Hermione took Harry’s hand as they
continued up the stairs. ‘Remember that old saying about saving water and showering with a friend?’
she asked him with a *very* suggestive smile.

Harry shook his head, returning the smile. ‘No, but I think I may come to believe that whoever
came up with that saying is a genius of the first magnitude.’

Oblivious to the fact that the most recently engaged couple in the house were happily “saving
water”, everyone else were given their orders for the day by Mrs Weasley. ‘Now where are Harry and
Hermione?’ she wondered aloud, hands on hips, after telling Ron he and Luna would be responsible
for putting up the fairy lights around the garden. Ron shrugged. ‘Went upstairs,’ he said around
his last mouthful of toast as he stood up and taking Luna’s hand, headed off to start on their
chores. *I’ll catch them when they come down,* thought Molly. Then, smiling and humming to
herself, she set the dishes in the sink to washing themselves and decided to put on a clean apron
to start work on the food for the party. *Harry and Hermione engaged…how wonderful and
perfect!*

While it had seemed that morning as though they had all day and therefore plenty of time to
complete their tasks, once a quick lunch of sandwiches had been devoured by the hungry workers, the
afternoon seemed to pass with astonishing speed and everyone suddenly began to run instead of walk
and become impatient with each other instead of passing happy remarks and quips. To the enormous
delight of Crookshanks, a couple of crafty little garden gnomes managed to make a sneaky return,
quickly regretting having done so when they were badgered mercilessly by the large, ginger cat.

It was only an hour before the guests were due to arrive and Harry noticed that Ron and Luna
seemed to be having a few problems with the fairy lights. When he asked if he’d like a hand, a very
exasperated Ron

threw up his hands in disgust and told him to “go for it!”

‘Bloody fairies!’ he cursed. ‘They’re so bloody *stubborn!*’

Using the usual “Aduro Consummo Faerie” Charm, Harry managed to conjure up *double* strings
of fairy lights festooning the garden, hanging from tree to tree around the clearing where the
party would be held. Ron shook his head in rueful amazement. ‘I keep forgetting just how bloody
powerful you are, mate,’ he told Harry. Harry shrugged, as always feeling a little uncomfortable
that most wizards and witches who had been practising magic their whole lives were unable to do a
tenth of what he could do. As he pushed his wand back into his pocket, Harry noticed Luna walking
towards them, gazing around at the fairy lights, a bemused expression on her face. When she reached
them, she hooked her arm through Ron’s and smiled ecstatically at Harry. ‘Harry, that’s just
absolutely fabulous!’ she exclaimed. ‘How special you can do such things so easily!’ Just as she’d
first done at Hogwarts all those years ago, Luna said just the right thing at just the right
moment. ‘Thanks, Luna,’ Harry said to her quietly, smiling.

²²²²²²²² ²²²²²²²² ²²²²²²²² ²²²²²²²²

Molly Weasley smoothed her new, soft-burgundy robes and checked her hair one last time in the
mirror (‘My dear Molly, you are positively *glowing!*’ it told her, sounding a little teary,
if that’s possible for a mirror…). Her beloved husband, Arthur, stood behind her, himself feeling a
little teary as he looked at his wife’s reflection and thought himself about the fact that their
only daughter was now officially betrothed! And on top of that, Harry, their surrogate son, was
engaged to Hermione who was herself like a member of the family! Both Harry and Hermione had been
so forcefully adamant that their own engagement would take a back seat to Ginny and Dean’s
celebrations tonight that he and Molly had been forced to agree to a very simple announcement of
their engagement **after** the “formalities” with Ginny and Dean had taken place. *So like
Harry,* thought Arthur, *and so like Hermione, too.* His eyes met his wife’s in the mirror
and they smiled at each other. Molly couldn’t help but think, “a*nd even Percy will be here
tonight!”* her heart filling with joy. She turned around to her husband, patting his cheek
affectionately. Arthur bent down and kissed his wife, surprising her. He in turn was surprised by
her very loving return of his kiss and thought perhaps they should have parties more often if it
had this effect on his wife…

The party seemed to be flowing along very smoothly and everyone appeared to be truly enjoying
themselves. Neville’s colleagues, Sunny and Lucky, had also come along, bringing the “new girl”,
Lila Caplo, with them. Priscilla smiled when Neville told her that both his agents had been rather
taken with Lila and it looked as though she was having trouble choosing between them!

Dean and Ginny seemed to both *glow* with happiness as they greeted their guests, making
sure each new arrival knew where to get something to eat and drink. Luna was the self appointed
“present receiver” and was stacking all the presents for Ginny and Dean on a separate table that
was filling so quickly she twice had to charm the table to lengthen it so that everything would
fit.

Percy had arrived later – alone - just in time for dinner, sitting rather woodenly at the end of
the table next to his mother who had quietly fussed over her third child to his consternation. Not
surprisingly, none of his siblings had a lot to say to him beyond a stiffly courteous greeting and
so he was able to only really carry on a conversation with his mum, his dad being at the opposite
end of the table for the duration of the meal from where he cast the occasional sadly dark glance
at his third son. After the meal was finished, Percy had stiffly congratulated Ginny and Dean
before making a rather hasty departure. Ginny had momentarily looked so sad that Dean gently cupped
her face and kissed her tenderly, saying something for her ears only and was rewarded with a
grateful smile.

Shortly afterwards, two tables were put aside, laden with leftovers, and the rest were cleared
away. There were frequent visitors to those two tables with Ron, of course, clocking up the largest
number of visits. Music seemed to emanate from the air itself and quite a few of the guests took to
the wooden dance floor that had taken the place of the dinner tables, Harry and Hermione among
them.

It wasn’t long before the dance floor became increasingly crowded – Fred and George had each
pulled one of their cousins on to the floor with them, Bill and Fleur looked like honeymooners
despite the fact that they’d been married for almost three years and Luna had managed to drag Ron
away from his beloved food long enough to enjoy one dance; Dean and Ginny were moving slowly and
sensually together as though they could hear music no one else could.

Charlie had chosen this moment to come running from the house and, after congratulating his
little sister and her fiancé one last time, apologised profusely, explaining he had to return to
Romania with his clutch of dragon eggs as they were getting very close to hatching and he needed
the equipment in the hatching stables to ensure the best care for the new hatchlings.

‘Charlie and his dragons!’ laughed Ginny as he left. ‘If he ever finds time to marry it’s going
to have to be to someone who’s as besotted with them as he is!’

Shortly after eleven, Arthur Weasley started the “formalities”, calling on Ginny and Dean to say
a few words to their gathered family and friends. Harry had his arm around Hermione’s waist holding
her close beside him as they stood and listened. Harry found himself trying desperately *not*
to think about later that night when he and Hermione would once again be sleeping in separate rooms
and trying instead to think of the night *after* tonight when they’d once more be home
alone…free to – *Damn! Can’t think about that either!* he told himself sternly. *Come on,
pull yourself together! It’s only a matter of **one*** *night for heaven’s sake!* Then
Hermione was clapping at something Dean had said about Ginny and all Harry could think about was
how clapping seemed to have a rather wondrous effect on Hermione’s cleavage, revealed by her
scoop-necked satin top. *Why the hell aren’t we going home tonight?* Harry groaned inwardly.
*Give me one good reason for staying another night at the Burrow! Oh for crying out loud, Potter,
get a grip!* he told himself again. Hermione, who was standing in front of him but just slightly
to his side, was still clapping and had turned to look up at him, smiling, saying something…but
unfortunately, all he could see was that mesmerising cleavage and all he could think about was how
it would look *without* the clapping…and the crowd…and the clothes…

And then it happened.

Harry was aware only of a searing light behind his eyes and a sensation of heat throughout his
body. Hermione felt like a Christmas tree that someone had plugged in and turned on – she was
giving off a white, luminescent glow that gave no sensation but was definitely noticeable! Then the
strange phenomenon ended as abruptly as it had appeared.

All conversation ceased at precisely the same point in time as all eyes had turned to Harry and
Hermione - silence settled over the formerly noisy crowd and for a single moment no one moved and
no one spoke – they just *stared.*

Harry and Hermione looked at each other. Hermione spoke first, her voice strained. ‘Harry, what
the hell just happened?’

Harry shook his head. ‘I’m not sure – are you all right?’

Hermione nodded. ‘Perfectly all right – I didn’t actually *feel* anything – I just sort of
*glowed*! Pretty weird, actually… are *you* okay?’

Harry gave her a reassuring smile. ‘Yep. I think I was just giving off a few more Watts worth of
light than you were.’

Then the noise seemed to come back as though a switch had been flicked on.

Harry and Hermione found themselves surrounded by people wanting to know if they were all right
and asking a myriad other questions. Harry had put his arm around Hermione’s shoulders and pulled
her close to him in an instinctively protective gesture Hermione watched as Neville shouldered his
way through the crowd and leant down slightly to whisper something in Harry’s ear, after which the
two men’s eyes locked for a moment before Harry shook his head ever so slightly and mouthed
something back at Neville. Neville gave one short nod and turned and left. Hermione, puzzled, stood
up on her toes to speak in Harry’s ear so he could hear her over the background noise.

‘Harry, what’s going on? What did Neville say?’

As Harry looked down at her she felt a chill run through her. He was looking at her with such
strange intensity as he replied quietly, ‘Later.’

Then he turned back to reassure everyone they were fine – which they were – and they’d look into
it – maybe it was a prank jinx – but not to worry, get on with the party – Ginny and Dean were more
important.

Then, with the announcement Dean made next, the whole incident was pushed to the back of
Hermione’s mind.

Having managed to regain everyone’s attention, Dean was reassuring them that Harry and Hermione
were fine and it would seem as though what had happened was nothing more than a prank and since no
one was hurt, they would get to the bottom of it later.

‘However, I would just like to let you all know that we have a second reason to celebrate
tonight – my very good friend, Harry Potter, very sensibly proposed to another of my very good
friends, Hermione Granger – and being a very sensible girl, she said “yes” – so here’s to the
official and sensible engagement of Harry and Hermione!’

A collective gasp was followed by a cacophony of cheers and Harry and Hermione once more found
themselves in a sea of people, this time wishing them well. Harry became aware of a very strong
sense of…what? *Satisfaction! That was it! Because not only was Hermione* his, *but everyone
now knew it!*

Well past midnight, after seeing off the last guest, Dean and Ginny pretended to collapse,
falling together onto the soft grass which was still illuminated by some of the fairy lights,
although quite a few were either yawning or had actually gone to sleep which meant they stopped
giving off their characteristic glow. The only other ones who had seen the party through to the end
were Neville, Priscilla, Harry and Hermione and of course, Mr and Mrs Weasley. Laughing at Ginny
and Dean, everyone else followed their example with the exception of Mr and Mrs Weasley.

‘Wouldn’t be able to get up again!’ laughed Mr Weasley as he took his wife’s hands. ‘We’re off
to bed, we’ll see you young ones in the morning!’

Ginny blew a kiss to her parents. ‘Thank you for the best party *ever!* I love you!’ she
called out happily.

‘Ditto!’ said Dean, giving them the thumbs up.

‘You’re welcome my dears!’ replied Mrs Weasley, giving them a last wave.

The six “young ones” all lay on their backs, hands behind their heads, gazing up at the stars.
Slowly, the fairy lights blinked out as they all fell asleep. Waving his hand, Harry quietly
muttered the counter charm that would free the fairies when they woke up.

Hermione rolled onto her side towards Harry, propping herself up on her elbow. As she smiling
lovingly down at him, she softly traced the lines of his face with her forefinger of her left hand
– his temple, his forehead, his nose, his cheek, his mouth…then Harry playfully bit her finger,
eliciting a smile and a gasp from her. ‘Harry, I so want to be at home tonight, alone, with you…’
and as her voice trailed off, she leaned down and kissed him, loving the feel of his mouth – the
taste of him – the feel of his tongue as it swept into her mouth – then he was rolling over and she
was beneath him, the feel of him above her and his weight pressing down on her as lightly as he
could manage causing her to moan very softly as she instinctively pushed her hips against the
wonderful hardness she could feel. Harry’s grip on her tightened as that soft sound reverberated
throughout his body, almost making him lose control; the fact that they were surrounded by four of
their friends being the only thing that stopped him from attempting to take her then and there.

‘For Merlin’s sake you two, get a room!’

Harry lifted his head and looked around. Ginny was grinning at him from a few feet away. Dean
had sat up and was leaning back against a tree, Ginny perched in his lap with her arms clasped
around his neck. Dean was looking at Ginny with an expression that gave away the fact that he too
would love to “get a room”. Neville and Priscilla were busy trying to ignore the randy shenanigans
of their friends but weren’t above a bit of serious snogging themselves. Priscilla silently vowed
to herself that it was about time she got this gorgeous man into bed as she had no doubt his
lovemaking would be just as wonderfully gentle and loving as his kissing. That would be her next
goal.

‘You know,’ said Priscilla crisply, ‘that Neville and I are the only two guests who have a room
each to ourselves.’

All eyes turned to her, silently questioning.

‘Well,’ she said, smiling slightly, ‘what if, for instance, Harry and Hermione slept in my room
and Dean and Ginny slept in Neville’s room? Then Neville could take Harry’s place in his room and I
could take Hermione’s.’

Neville’s mouth dropped open as he gaped at Priscilla. Priscilla winked at him causing his mouth
to gape open even further. Dean and Ginny were grinning wildly at each other and Harry was looking
at Hermione with such open pleading in his gaze she couldn’t help but laugh.

‘Well?’ said Priscilla, looking at each of them in turn.

‘We’re in!’ said Dean quickly, Ginny nodding in agreement.

‘And us too,’ said Hermione in that soft, low voice that Harry loved.

‘Then come on you lot!’ said Priscilla as she stood up, pulling Neville up with her, a Neville
who looked quite stunned by the turn of events and the proposal made by his lady to his friends not
to mention by the fact that said friends had accepted the proposal so damn fast! He was sure he had
the randiest friends ever – and what Ron and Luna would think of all this in the morning didn’t
bear thinking about. *They’ll probably be pissed off they weren’t in on this!* he thought a
little hysterically as he followed Priscilla back to the house. *Mind you, looking at Priscilla
from the back – well, from ANY angle really – it wasn’t hard to imagine being alone with her in a
bedroom and…*he shook his head. *Not a gentlemanly thought - a little early in the
relationship for that,* he thought, completely unaware that his lovely lady had rather different
views on the matter…

Dean closed the door softly, Ginny leaning back against his other arm which was wrapped around
her waist; she was smiling seductively up at him. ‘Pays to have understanding friends, doesn’t it?’
she whispered as she walked backwards towards the bed, pulling a very happy and willing Dean with
her. ‘Without a doubt,’ he replied as they collapsed together on the bed. ‘Ginny,’ he whispered,
‘this has been a wonderful night -’ he felt somehow compelled to try and convey how he felt – ‘I
can’t imagine my life without you and I don’t want to.’ Ginny pulled his head down so that she
could kiss him, doing everything she could to put the considerable amount of passion she felt for
him into that kiss, causing Dean to completely forget about trying to convey anything – at least
verbally…

Harry quietly shut the door to what had been Priscilla’s room the previous night and leaned back
against it, watching Hermione as she did a mesmerising little hip swaying thing into the middle of
the room, her arms extended above her head, smiling seductively at Harry. Then without warning she
swiftly dropped her hands to pull her top over head, throwing it into a corner of the room. Harry
stared. Hermione was wearing a soft golden lacy bra and when she unzipped her long skirt and let it
drop to the floor he devoured the sight of her in matching French panties.

‘Sweet Jesus, Hermione,’ he rasped, walking towards her, his blazing green eyes locking on to
her dark honey coloured gaze. *Had it only been that morning they’d made love in the shower? It
may just as well have been last week the way she made him feel…*

‘Harry…’ She held her arms out to him, but then stopped him from wrapping his arms around her so
that she could undress him, taking great delight in doing it slowly and driving Harry crazy in the
process. She took off his glasses last and even though he was naked, she still didn’t let him hold
her until she’d removed what little she still had on and then there was no stopping him, his arms
whipped around her waist as he lifted her, kissing her, and carrying her towards the bed where he
laid her down as gently as he could given his condition and state of mind. Then he was on top of
her, wanting her more desperately than he ever had, kissing her, devouring her with his mouth,
leaving her soft lips and moving down to the soft curve of her neck, then on to the irresistible
swell of her breasts. Hermione, one hand tangled in Harry’s hair, the other gripping the sheet
beside her, was lost in a haze of desire as he gently sucked at each taut nipple in turn, his
fingers running down over her flat stomach to torture her further by intermittently brushing over
the hardened little nub that was so sensitive she cried out each time he touched it. The she heard
her name, his voice deep and husky, and looked up to see him gazing at her, his green eyes asking,
pleading…

Putting her hands on each side of his face, she pulled him down and whispered against his lips,
‘*Yes please!*’ was all she said. Harry’s mouth covered hers as he plunged inside her,
groaning as her tight, wet warmth enveloped him and because she’d been so close to the edge of
ecstasy, Hermione immediately fell into the wonderful waves of pleasure that swept through her,
crying out Harry’s name even as he felt his own release tearing through him; he thought he’d felt
as much pleasure as it was possible for a man to feel until this moment – and in some far corner of
his mind he knew it was because she was now his, more so than she’d ever been – and to top it off ,
everyone knew it…

TO BE CONTINUED…



2. Four Weddings & A Funeral  - Chapter Two
-------------------------------------------

Author’s Note

Hi and hello! I just have to say thank you so much for all your wonderful reviews for Chapter
One – I drink in every single word, believe me!

I’d also like to acknowledge the invaluable help of my lovely Portkey friend, KirstiR with this
story – she’s been just great, putting up with my repetitious requests for repeated readings of the
same chapters enabling me to feel much happier with what I’ve written, not to mention some very
brilliant suggestions she’s made – virtually all of which I’ve taken on board! Thanks Kirsti –
you’re a gem! **waves and blows kisses**

So, here, without further adieu, is Chapter Two!

FOUR WEDDINGS & A FUNERAL

By Lady Jane

Chapter Two

Ginny looked at the large pile of gifts sitting in the middle of Dean’s lounge room. Harry had
very kindly Apparated them all here so that she and Dean could open them at their leisure. She and
Dean, along with her parents, had seen everyone else off after breakfast that morning at the Burrow
and then the four of them had enjoyed a quiet, leisurely lunch together before she and Dean had
also left, leaving Arthur and Molly to a well earned quiet evening alone.

Dean had already gone to bed as he needed to be up before sunrise the next morning to attend a
special training session with his team, but Ginny wanted one last cup of tea before turning in.
She’d taken her tea into the lounge room and was checking the neatly stacked presents, looking
forward to the following evening when she and Dean would open them together. However, as she looked
them over, one very small package, neatly wrapped in silver paper, caught her eye. She put her cup
down and picked it up, noticing there was no card, no indication of who it was from. She found she
couldn’t resist, her curiosity getting the better of her and so she opened it; the paper had been
sealed magically, no Spellotape in sight, and it simply fell away as soon as she pulled at the
edge. A small green velvet jeweller’s box was revealed and feeling intrigued, Ginny opened it then
gasped, every drop of colour draining from her face. She almost dropped the box on seeing what it
contained: a tiny, beautiful, perfectly wrought glass rose.

She quickly snapped the box shut then crumpled the silver paper into a ball, shoving both into
the pocket of her jacket. She stood there, her tea forgotten, unable to think straight. This looked
almost identical to that rose Malfoy had given her – was this also from him? She took a deep,
shuddering breath. It was. She knew it was. Which meant she had to get rid of it. She wanted no
reminders of him. *What did I do with that other one?* she wondered. *The one he gave me the
night he - he… left London*. And unbidden, the memory of that night she had so successfully -
until now - put from her mind, came rushing back, sending her reeling back in time to relive the
feelings and sensations… *The night he left London.* *The night you kissed him, you
mean!* a stern voice in her head reprimanded her. *But **he** kissed **me**!* she
cried silently. *And you kissed him right back,* said the implacable voice. She slowly sunk to
the floor where she was. *I did,* she thought miserably, *I did kiss him back. I don’t know
why… but I’ve put that all behind me now - I won’t be seeing him again. Damn him! I successfully
put him completely out of my mind and now this – this bloody reminder of him has brought it all
back! Why? Why does the memory of that kiss make me tingle all over?* She felt despair wash over
her. *I don’t understand! How can I be thinking about this – how can I feel like this when I love
Dean? Why? And that first rose - where was that first rose? Somehow she felt it was desperately
important that she remember… she tried hard but it seemed to elude her for the moment and she found
herself instead once more reliving that night – the night she’d been given the first rose…*

*She’d sunk to the floor that night too, feeling shocked and horrified after Malfoy had left,
telling her he’d never forget her. The rose had been in her hand – she hadn’t even been aware of
Malfoy giving it to her. On finding it in her hand, she’d finally gotten up and gone straight to
her bedroom – that’s right! I put it in the top drawer of my bedside table!* She stood up
eagerly, intending to retrieve it – until she remembered Dean was in bed asleep. *Tomorrow, I’ll
get it out tomorrow and I’ll get rid of both of them,* she thought resolutely, feeling better
having made the decision.

She went to bed then, throwing her discarded clothes on the floor before slipping as quietly as
she could into bed, not wanting to disturb Dean, but it took her a very long time to fall asleep
because every time she closed her eyes she saw *him…*

When she was eventually unable to fight her own exhaustion, she fell into a restless sleep, only
to dream, of *him…over and over…that night he’d come to say goodbye for the last time… in black
silk robes, looking at her with a deep, poignant sadness in his eyes – his hands, not cold or even
cool, but soft and warm as they gently framed her face – his lips briefly pressed to hers – she
couldn’t move – she heard a soft moan escape him, then his lips were crushing hers, his arm
wrapping around her and holding her hard against him – one hand tangled in her hair as it wrapped
around the back of her neck, holding her there – then she opened her mouth to him and heard a low,
soft growl in his throat as his tongue swept over hers – he turned them both around so that she was
up against the door and he was pressing the whole length of his body against hers – she could feel
the extent of his arousal – he was **hard** - yet still she couldn’t move – but did she want to?
Did she want him to stop? No! YES! And then she heard a faint voice, a voice coming from somewhere
far away – telling her to **go**, **run**, **escape**, **get away**! She tried to
struggle but she was trapped – she tried so hard but she couldn’t move –*

**‘Ginny! Ginny, wake up!’**

‘I can’t! I’m trapped!’ she cried aloud, her arms flailing as though trying to push someone
away.

‘**Ginny!**’

Suddenly she opened her eyes, looking around wildly, her heart pounding, panting as though she’d
been running. Dean was sitting on the bed beside her, holding her wrists and leaning over her, his
anxiety and concern evident on his face.

‘Dean?’ Her voice sounded scared to her own ears.

‘Ginny, sweetheart, that must’ve been one helluva nightmare!’

‘I – I – can’t remember – but I was trapped and I couldn’t move -’ *What* *had happened
in her dream? She couldn’t remember – just that horrifying feeling of being trapped…but there was
something else, just out of reach of her memory…a feeling, a desire…*

Dean pulled her up into a hug. ‘It was just a dream,’ he said soothingly, ‘just a dream.’

Wrapping her arms around his waist Ginny held on tightly, the aftermath of her dream –
nightmare? – slowly leaving her.

‘And you know what, you’ve slept in – it’s nearly eleven! Come and have some breakfast, you must
be starving,’ Dean said, sitting back, smiling gently at her. ‘I have a surprise for you, too!’
*Which will hopefully take your mind off your nightmare,* he thought to himself.

As Ginny followed him into the kitchen, Dean went to the sink to make some tea. Ginny froze with
her hand on the back of the chair she’d been about to pull out. Dean had set the table and on the
soft blue placemat lay a necklace, a delicate silver chain with an exquisite glass rose held in a
silver clasp.

Taking Ginny’s speechless stare for surprise, Dean chuckled. ‘I found it when I picked up your
clothes this morning – it fell out of your jacket pocket - onto the bed luckily!’

Ginny lifted her head and stared at him. ‘But -’

‘It’s all right! I know you obviously couldn’t resist opening one present last night – I found
your tea cup in the loungeroom; you didn’t drink it all, by the way. Anyhow, it’s so lovely I
thought you might like to wear it as a necklace so I ducked out this morning and had McFadden put
it on the chain for me.’ McFadden was the wizard jeweller from whom Dean had bought Ginny’s
engagement ring. ‘Who’s it from?’ Dean asked, ‘I couldn’t find a card.’

Ginny’s gaze fell on the rose once more. *Holy shit and sweet Mother of Merlin!* ‘I - well
- there wasn’t a card with it.’ She stretched out a trembling hand to pick up the necklace. *What
horrible, ghastly irony! Dean setting Malfoy’s rose in a necklace for her! She thought she felt
sick.* ‘It looks beautiful,’ she whispered, staring at it, feeling horrified at the turn of
events. How could she get rid of the damn thing now?

Dean walked back to her, setting their cups down and taking the necklace from her. He held it
up, waiting as Ginny automatically turned, holding her hair off her neck so that he could put it on
for her. She was still stunned by the turn of events then she became aware of the soft touch of
Dean’s fingers as he did the necklace up, turning and hugging him, burying her face against his
chest.

‘So, you like it?’ asked Dean, a smile in his voice as he kissed the top of her head.

‘It’s beautiful!’ was all she could say, a strange coldness seeping through her as she pushed
away the thoughts of Malfoy that were once more snaking their way insidiously into her mind.

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

In the south-west of England, a tall wizard was pacing in a large room of an old, immaculately
kept mansion. He had long, white-blonde hair, tied back with a length of green velvet; his
expensive robes billowing out behind him as he stalked from one side of the room to the other. The
expression on his face revealed little. It was a face that was still recognisable as belonging to
Lucius Malfoy although there had been marked changes. In the last days of his master’s reign he had
learnt more than he’d ever known about the methods his master had employed to increase his powers,
strengthen his defences and survive. And he’d since employed many of them himself. Such things,
steeped in the Dark Arts, inevitably leave their mark.

A timid creature slunk into the room, hoping to be noticed without the need to speak and indeed,
Malfoy stopped pacing when he noticed the shadow of his house-elf on the wall.

‘What do you want Latro?’ His voice was no longer smooth and mellifluous – it was harsh and
cracked; a legacy of his newly acquired skills.

‘Master, please, your dinner is ready, sir,’ whimpered the pitiful creature, creeping backwards
out of the room as he spoke.

Malfoy nodded and the house-elf scuttled away.

He’d been busy the last few weeks, putting into effect those Dark Arts he’d learnt from his
master, and now he was able to look to the future and make decisions as to what he should do
next.

*Draco,* he thought bitterly, *no longer my son. A traitor. He will pay with his
life.*

*Narcissa.* *No longer my wife. Kill her? No, a waste of time. She will die in time. She
matters not.*

*Harry Potter.* Lucius’ fists clenched so tightly at the mere thought of this wizard that
he drew blood.

*He will suffer! I know how to make him suffer!* He calmed himself. A cold, unpleasant
smile stretched his mouth. *And now I know how to draw out the traitor, Draco. And then I will
kill him. And Potter’s suffering will be the bonus. Belated revenge for my late master. Revenge
he’d enjoy taking immensely…*

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

Draco Malfoy placed the two bowls of steaming soup on the small, round table before seating
himself.

As he picked up his spoon he looked across the table at his mother who was simply staring
straight ahead, seemingly oblivious to her surroundings and her son’s presence. She was a mere
shadow of her former self in all respects.

‘Mother, you need to eat something, please,’ he told her gently, despite knowing her answer
before she spoke.

She turned her blank gaze to meet his. ‘I’m not hungry thank you Draco.’ As always these days,
her voice was a flat monotone, her usually haughty tones absent.

Pulling his chair closer to his mother, he picked up her spoon and filling it with soup, held it
to her lips. She drank it automatically, so he did it again. And again. And again. Until her bowl
was empty. Then he returned to his own bowl of soup, now almost cold.

*It had taken a little while, but Draco had begun to understand that his mother was suffering
some sort of magical malady, no doubt inflicted by his father. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to
take her to St Mungo’s, it somehow seemed shameful and he felt as though he would be admitting
defeat. To what, he didn’t know. Besides, in his heart he didn’t believe they’d be able to help her
nor would they look after her as well as he could. So here, with him, she would stay.*

His mother wanted to go to bed after that, although he knew she would spend most of the night
simply lying there, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep and uncaring of the fact.

As he washed up the few things they’d used in the small kitchen, having seen his mother off to
bed, his thoughts once more revisited the same ground they’d been travelling for weeks now. When
he’d received news of his mother’s condition, he’d gone to her immediately, leaving Hogwarts where
he’d been staying for his own protection – from his father’s wrath, no less. *My father.* The
bitterness and hatred swelled within him until he didn’t think he could contain it. *Because his
mother had stood up for her only child, her husband had abandoned her, leaving her in no fit state
to care for herself. The least he could do for his mother now was to look after her for whatever
time was left to her. She was wasting away before his eyes and he could do nothing about it. The
little food he managed to get into her didn’t seem to be making any difference. Her soul was dying,
he thought; in his opinion, she was effectively being murdered by her husband - his father - slowly
and painfully.*

He’d come to a decision earlier: after his mother died he would go looking for his father. *He
would avenge his mother’s death. Her murder. If he died in the process, so be it. As long as he
took his father with him. He had nothing else to live for now. Ginevra was engaged to fucking
Thomas –* a bitter smile crossed his face; *I wonder if she knows who the rose was from?* A
harsh chuckle escaped him. *Of course she will. She’ll remember the first one. It was a stupid,
useless, pointless thing to do, sending that second rose, just as giving her the first one had been
– but he’d done it nevertheless. He admitted to himself he’d done it simply because he wanted to
know that he was in her thoughts – however briefly, for whatever reason – but in her thoughts
nonetheless. She was rarely out of his.*

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

A few weeks later saw Hermione leaning back from the book she’d been studying, one of many that
were scattered over her desk, interspersed with rolls of parchment and Interdepartmental Memos from
Neville. Rubbing her eyes, she sat up straight in her chair and stretched her arms above her head
before massaging the back of her neck to relieve a little of the tension. She’d been reading far
too much for far too long every day for a fortnight now. *But what she’d found out!*

She looked up as Priscilla walked into the room, another stack of books in her arms.

‘I don’t think there’s a book or parchment left on either Death Eaters or the Malfoy family
covering the last twenty centuries that you haven’t bloody well read!’ said Priscilla in
exasperation on reaching Hermione’s desk and ridding herself of her burden. ‘And it’s lunchtime
now, Hermione, you should go and eat!’ she admonished.

Hermione nodded. ‘I am. I’m having lunch with Neville,’ she said, looking at Priscilla with a
small smile.

Priscilla frowned slightly. ‘So *that’s* why he turned me down today!’ But there was a
definite twinkle in her eyes as she added, ‘Should I be jealous?’

Hermione laughed and Priscilla joined her after Hermione said, ‘Oh yes, right! Neville is so
totally besotted with you it’s beyond funny and I’m the same about Harry – but yeah, sure, Neville
and I could find it in ourselves to have a serious snogging session over lunch!’

‘I suppose it’s about all this research you’ve been doing the last few weeks since the party,’
said Priscilla as she waved her hand indicating the contents of Hermione’s desk. Thinking about
Ginny and Dean’s party had her almost asking about the “glowing” incident again, but she stopped
herself just in the nick of time. For some reason Hermione always ignored her when she brought that
up, as though she hadn’t heard her. She’d asked Neville about it and he always looked a little
uncomfortable and simply said it was “still under investigation”. She found it all rather peculiar,
to say the least.

‘Yes it is,’ answered Hermione, answering her question, ‘and I’m rather concerned about some of
the things we’ve unearthed. I knew the Malfoy family have always been involved in the Dark Arts,
but Lucius Malfoy is almost as evil as Voldemort – just not as powerful, thank Merlin. Sorry I
can’t tell you more but I didn’t get very far into it before Neville stamped “Keep Secret” on this
particular file. I haven’t even been able to tell Harry.’ On this last note, her voice held
weariness. She so wanted to talk to Harry about this, but as yet she couldn’t. Not until Neville
said she could – or told Harry himself. It was the one thing she nagged Neville about – telling
Harry. And there was something else that seemed to *niggle* at the back of her mind about
telling Harry…or Neville telling Harry…and both of them…talking? It seemed to slide away from her
even as she thought about it…

‘So, where are you going to eat?’ asked Priscilla, dropping into an armchair in front of
Hermione’s desk.

‘It’s a new café,’ said Hermione, reaching out and taking her wand from the special drawer in
her desk before continuing. ‘Lila told me about it - it’s called “Esca”. It’s not for Muggles so we
can Floo there.’ She stood, Priscilla following suit and as Hermione walked around her desk and out
the door with Priscilla behind her, she continued, ‘I think Neville’s using me for a guinea pig –
if I like it, he’ll take you there!’

Priscilla laughed. ‘I have heard of it – and I’ve heard it’s really good, too. By the way, is
this Lila the same Lila that’s working over in Neville’s department that’s been in and out of here
a lot lately?’

‘One and the same!’ replied Hermione. ‘She’s been here a couple of times each week lately with
some research replies from Neville for me and we get on really well; she’s really lovely. And
Neville’s right – she can’t choose between Sunny and Lucky and they’re both apparently quite nuts
about her!’

Priscilla, who had been bypassed by Lila each time she’d come to see Hermione, raised one
slightly sceptical eyebrow. ‘I know Neville thinks it’s very funny but I think she’s rather devious
playing them off, one against the other, actually.’

‘Hey, how awful would it be to have two really lovely men chasing you? I think she’s enjoying it
for as long as she’s able.’

Priscilla shrugged as she said, ‘Perhaps. I wouldn’t know, never having been in that situation
myself!’

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

Hermione was repeating all this to Neville as they waited in the queue for the Floo network; it
was always busy at lunchtime.

‘I’m just glad she’s not upset about us going to lunch,’ replied Neville.

Hermione patted his arm. ‘I think she’s quite secure about her place in your affections,’ she
told him.

‘As she should be!’ retorted Neville, a lovely warm feeling spreading through him as always at
the thought of Priscilla.

‘Oh good – our turn!’ said Hermione, stepping forward and reaching for some Floo powder, Neville
close behind.

They emerged at one of two fireplaces in the café and were shown to a table in the central
courtyard. The whole place was reminiscent of a Roman villa and in the warm, summer sunshine, was
very inviting.

‘Drinks?’ asked their waitress once she’d taken their order.

‘Hermione?’ asked Neville.

‘I’d like a glass of white wine, please,’ said Hermione.

‘Bring us a bottle, thanks,’ Neville told the young girl who then left to fill their orders.

Once they had their meals and wine, Neville touched his glass to Hermione’s, saying, ‘Here’s to
truth, justice and the wizarding way!’

‘Hear, hear!’ replied Hermione, laughing and sipping from her glass.

‘Neville, I know you must be thoroughly sick of me asking this, but -’

‘It’s all right, Hermione – I know what you’re going to ask me and yes, I think it’s time to
tell Harry. And perhaps Dean – I’m not sure.’

‘Really? Oh at last!’ Then Hermione gave Neville a quizzical look as she asked, ‘Tell Dean? Is
that our place?’

Neville shrugged, his mouth full of piping hot shepherd’s pie.

He swallowed quickly, saying, ‘I’m not sure really Hermione – but speaking of Dean, at the
moment I’m more worried about something else – something that’s been going on with Ginny lately,
since their party. Dean’s been really worried about her. She keeps having all these dreadful
nightmares that she doesn’t remember – except that they’re about her being trapped and being unable
to escape. They’re both quite distraught about it and I don’t really know how to help them.’

Hermione let her knife and fork go so that they landed on her plate with a clatter. ‘I didn’t
know about this!’

Neville gave her a crooked smile. ‘How could you when during the last few weeks all you’ve done
is read at work, write reports for me then hurry home late to spend time with Harry! You’ve been
working far too long, doing way too much overtime.’

Hermione sighed. ‘True.’

Neville put down his knife and fork and reached across the table to take Hermione’s hands in
his.

‘Listen, Hermione – I’d like to come and see you and Harry tonight. I can tell Harry what we’ve
both found out -’ he hesitated, then continued, his face set in tense lines, ‘and, well, there’s
something else, too, that I believe Harry should tell you.’ *There! He’d said it!*

‘What do you mean, something Harry should tell me?’ *There was that slippery thought again,
about…well, it didn’t really matter…* ‘Why would Harry keep anything from me?’

Neville swallowed nervously. Harry may never speak to him again - after he’d hexed his backside
off!

‘He has his reasons,’ he said carefully, ‘but *I* think – well, I just think he’s wrong not
to tell you.’ He sighed as he felt doubt flood him. For a moment he was transported back to his
first year at Hogwarts when he’d stood up to Harry, Hermione and Ron, telling them he wouldn’t let
them do the wrong thing – now he was standing up to Harry, truly believing him to be wrong.
*Smart move, Longbottom! Standing up to Harry Potter’s about as clever as cuddling up to one of
Hagrid’s Blast-Ended Skrewts! Actually, Harry would probably make a Skrewt look lovable once he’d
found out what Neville had done…* He gave Hermione a crooked smile. ‘I’ll just tell myself that
one day he’ll thank me for this. Now, tonight is okay, isn’t it?’

Hermione gave his hands a small squeeze before releasing them. ‘Of course it is. Why don’t you
and Priscilla come for dinner?’

Neville smiled. ‘I’ll have to take a rain cheque on the dinner, Hermione. If I don’t see
Priscilla *alone* for dinner after standing her up for lunch I’ll be in big trouble!’

Hermione managed a laugh. ‘And you wouldn’t be a little desperate to see *her* alone, now
would you?’ she teased.

‘Well, there’s that, too,’ he said a little sheepishly.

This time Hermione laughed out loud. ‘Oh Neville, I think it’s just *brilliant* that you
and Priscilla have found each other! I am *so* happy for the two of you!’

‘Thanks, Hermione.’

‘All right, come round after dinner – actually, I don’t suppose you’ll bring Priscilla?’

Neville shook his head emphatically. ‘It’s nothing she really needs to know just yet.’

As she swallowed the last of her food, Hermione wiped her mouth with her serviette, hiding a
small smile at Neville’s obvious protectiveness of Priscilla.

When she arrived back at her office, she decided she’d leave on time today as she wanted plenty
of time to have a leisurely dinner with Harry before Neville came over that evening.

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

Although Harry had asked her a number of times over the previous fortnight or so what she was
working on that took up so much of her time, Hermione had simply said that it was something for
Magical Law Enforcement which she wasn’t allowed to talk about just yet. Over dinner this night,
however, Hermione told Harry about Neville dropping in later that evening to finally tell him about
her research. And then, naturally, she dropped one little pearl of a question into the
conversation…

‘Harry, by the way, Neville says there’s something *he* thinks *you* should tell
*me,* something you’ve been keeping from me. Now what would that be?’

Harry’s eyes snapped to meet Hermione’s questioning gaze for a second as he felt a horrible
sinking feeling take hold of his stomach. *Shit! Bloody Neville!* Harry’s eyes fell to the
table in front of him. *He’d have to tell her now – he knew her – she simply wouldn’t give up
until he did. Neville had done this on purpose, he was sure – he’d been **nagging** him to tell
Hermione ever since the party.* He chanced a quick look at Hermione; she’d *sounded*
nonchalant when she’d asked him but he knew from the way she was pushing her food around her plate
and the small frown she wore that she was long way from *feeling* nonchalant. *He felt an
uncharacteristic surge of anger towards Neville. At least he was coming over a little later – he
could damn well help him placate Hermione! After he’d returned him to his normal form that was…bit
hard for a large, rubbery, limbless glob of goo to placate anyone…*

*Just before Dean and Ginny’s party at the Burrow, Harry had told Neville what he’d done,
wondering if telling him was a smart move, but given Neville’s position, decided it was. Ever
since, every time he’d seen him, Neville had been at him to tell Hermione, saying he was wrong to
have done it in the first place without her consent and to then not tell her? Madness!* he’d
told Harry repeatedly. He was better at nagging than Hermione had been during their Hogwarts days!
Harry took a deep breath as resignation swept through him. In his heart he’d known all along
Neville was right. Dumbledore, who held the same views, had been right, too. His heart sank and he
felt afraid – terribly afraid that he wouldn’t be able to make her understand*…*

‘Now what would that be?’ Hermione’s question seemed to hang suspended in the air and as Harry
once more raised his eyes, his intense green gaze meeting hers, Hermione knew he was indeed keeping
something from her. She’d thought perhaps Neville had been mistaken, but obviously not. She felt
cold fingers clutch at her insides. *What was it? Why would Harry keep something from her? She
wondered then if she really wanted to know, feeling an unnamed dread settle around her
heart.*

However, when Harry falteringly told her, unable to do more than glance at her once or twice
while doing so, she felt fury and hurt mixed with bewilderment rip through her. When he finished,
having tried to justify his actions but failing miserably, he knew, she stood slowly, staring down
at the back of Harry’s head, speechless. Then she turned and left the room, knowing in that moment
exactly what she was going to do: firstly, she wrote a note to Neville cancelling his visit that
evening and sent it off with Hedwig. Secondly, she packed a few things in a soft carry bag and went
back to the kitchen where Harry was still sitting, his elbows on the table and his head in his
hands. Crookshanks followed her into the room and began walking slowly around her feet, looking up
at her. For a second, the sight of the man she loved in such a despairing attitude almost broke her
resolve, but before it could, she said tersely, ‘I’m going to my parents’. I’m not sure for how
long. I need to think. I’ll owl you,’ then Apparated to her old home, taking Crookshanks, leaving a
devastated Harry behind.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Author’s Note

Wonder away dear readers – trust me, there is a reason for everything…

Don’t forget to leave a review – **please**! You know how much they mean to me!

By the way, if you’re looking for something else to read now, go and check out Kirsti’s fics
(her penname is KirstiR) – I’m sure a lot of you have already read some (“Helping Neville” ring a
bell?) but if you haven’t, you’re guaranteed a treat, trust me! (Her last two fics both got nearly
400 reviews each – they’re way better than good folks!)

Chapter Three up in a week or so! xoxoxo Lady J



3. Four Weddings & A Funeral - Chapter Three
--------------------------------------------

Author’s Note

THIS chapter has given me the most grief so far – it’s probably the most angsty chapter I’ve
ever written, but there’s also quite a bit revealed too! (I feel that both the good and the sad are
magnified in the first year especially of a new relationship so that your highs are beautifully
dizzy and your lows are the pits). Other than that (don’t faint those who know me), aside from
“thank you from the bottom of my heart for your fabulous reviews!” I don’t have a lot to say…just,
as ever, “read and please review!” Lady J xoxo

FOUR WEDDINGS & A FUNERAL

By Lady Jane

Chapter Three

The next morning, Harry woke and automatically reached for Hermione. She wasn’t there. Then he
realised he was still wearing yesterday’s jeans and shirt and that he wasn’t even under the duvet –
he’d fallen asleep on top of the covers. It was then that the memory of the events of the previous
night slammed into him and he groaned. He was **alone**.

*Hermione!*

He felt a physical pain clenching and twisting at his insides as her name echoed in his head. He
rolled onto his back and pushed the heels of his hands into his closed eyes, wishing he hadn’t
woken up – not wanting to face the day with the knowledge that she’d gone. *And it was my
fault!*

*He’d been so certain that he’d done the right thing – for the right reasons! Hermione was
more precious to him than literally anyone or anything else in the world – he would never risk
anything happening to her again. Wasn’t that good enough reason? Wasn’t it?*

Dumbledore’s voice came back to haunt him.

‘Harry, you need to think very carefully about this. Very carefully. I don’t believe you are
doing the right thing in not telling Miss Granger.’

‘Of course it’s the right thing!’ was his vehement reply. ‘How can it not be right to protect
someone you love? How can it not be right to do everything you can to make sure they’re not hurt –’
his voice took on an even deeper tone, edged with desperation ‘- *and that they’re not*
*taken away from you!*’

‘I didn’t say what you want to do is wrong, just the fact that you don’t intend to inform Miss
Granger.’

*Damn the old man to hell - he’d been right! He had known it at some level but he’d ignored
it. Because she wouldn’t have wanted him to do it. That’s why. She would have said no. And he
couldn’t have that. It **had** to be done!*

*Hermione!* Again her name reverberated inside his head.

And Neville. How easy it would be to blame all this on him because he’d let the kneazle out of
the bag.

*But Neville had been right, too,* he thought bitterly. On the morning, a few days before
Dean and Ginny’s engagement party at the Burrow, he’d gone to his friend’s office having decided to
tell him, their conversation still clear in his memory…

*‘The Cautus Contego Charm? What’s that? I haven’t heard of such a spell before…’ Neville
frowned in puzzlement at his friend who had turned up unexpectedly and told him a rather startling
tale.*

*‘It’s probably easier to think of it just as the Safe Keeping Charm – I do. Because it keeps
Hermione safe. You haven’t heard of it before because Dumbledore and I created it – it’s based on
some very old magic, which Dumbledore’s more familiar with than any wizard alive. He helped me
tailor it specifically for me and Hermione.’*

*‘To do what exactly?’ asked, Neville, still perplexed.*

*‘To keep Hermione safe by alerting me instantly if she’s ever in serious danger.’*

*‘How?’*

*‘Well, if anyone within “striking” distance of Hermione – physical or magical – intends or
moves to harm her in any way, the spell will detect it and while Hermione will notice nothing, I
will be alerted by, well, for the want of a better word, a “sense” of light – a glow – around me
which will last for a minute or so during which time I’ll be able to Apparate to Hermione’s precise
location, without actually knowing where she is.’*

*Neville shook his head in amazement. Only Albus Dumbledore and Harry Potter between them
could come up with such a spell.*

*‘And without knowing the full repercussions of this never-before-used and untried spell,
Hermione was fine with it?’*

*Dead silence. Harry looked down at his hands which he began rubbing nervously along his jean
clad thighs.*

*‘Holy Mother of Merlin, Harry! You haven’t told her? Are you mad? It’s an untried spell –
what if it goes wrong or doesn’t work, at least not the way it’s intended?’ Neville gaped at Harry.
Not being raised in Wizarding ways, Harry wouldn’t be ingrained with the knowledge that “good and
decent” adult witches or wizards would NEVER place a spell or charm on another without their
knowledge or consent, certainly not one with unknown consequences! There would be total chaos if
everyone in the Wizarding world went around casting any spell they liked on anyone they wanted to.
And Dumbledore had agreed to this? Harry must’ve pushed a lot of the old man’s buttons,* he
thought.

*Harry shook his head. ‘Dumbledore wouldn’t make a mistake with magic and Hermione doesn’t
need to know, does she? I mean, if it’s ever activated she won’t be aware of it. But I’ll be able
to get her.’ **And that’s all that matters.** The unexpected occurrence at the Burrow had caused
him to temporarily question the veracity of the charm despite his confidence in his own abilities
and even more so in Dumbledore’s knowledge. Even so, his belief in Dumbledore’s abilities was
deeply ingrained… He lifted his head then and looked squarely at Neville. Neville became aware of
that sense of power that Harry sometimes radiated without being aware of it. His voice dropped and
sounded more forceful as he continued, ‘No one will be able to even **think** about harming her
in any way without my knowledge. I’ll be able to protect her. She can’t be taken away from me.’
**Not again!** The unspoken words echoed in his head. What happened before would not happen
again - ever!*

*Neville shook his head sadly. ‘Despite that, you’re wrong not to tell her Harry and you know
it.’*

The words echoed in Harry’s head as he returned to the present and realised he felt cold, the
bed creaking slightly as he rolled onto his side, wrapping his arms around himself, drawing his
knees up, his eyes still closed. Neville’s words from their conversation a few weeks ago lingered
insistently in his mind. “You’re wrong, Harry…you know it”… He groaned. *That had been*
**before** *the party at the Burrow…before he’d used* *the memory charm out of sheer,
unthinking desperation…he needed no one to tell him now how wrong **that** had been... but he’d
lifted it as soon as she’d asked…he chose in that moment to ignore the thought trying to surface,
“It shouldn’t have been placed on her to begin with.”*

As the memory faded, he kept his eyes closed, despite being fully awake. He didn’t want to open
his eyes to a day without her. *I’ll just stay here until she comes back!* he thought wildly.
*But she mightn’t come back. She mightn’t forgive me.* It was as though the mere thought that
she mightn’t ever be here with him again turned to a river of pain that coursed through him and he
groaned under his breath. *What will I do if she doesn’t come back?* Living without her was
incomprehensible. *I’ll go and see her, that’s what I’ll do! Explain why I did it – ask her to
forgive me – beg her to forgive me! I’ll tell her she can trust me never to do such a thing again.
Surely I can make her understand… surely…*

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

Hermione woke and wondered why the morning light was coming from the wrong side of the room. As
she rolled onto her back and looked at the window she remembered with an awful sinking feeling that
she wasn’t at home with Harry – she was in her old bedroom at her parents’ home.

Her mum and dad had been very happy to see her, although somewhat shocked at her sudden arrival.
When she’d finally owled them from the Burrow about her engagement to Harry, they’d rung her at
home the next day, excited and full of congratulations, begging her to come and visit and to bring
Harry, too, of course. Last night, however, when she told them she needed to be away from Harry for
a little while, but couldn’t yet talk about why, they’d looked a little confused. Despite being
deeply concerned, they knew they would have to wait until Hermione was ready to talk to them to
find out more.

*Harry! Why?* She turned onto her side and buried her face in her pillow. *What had
possessed him to do such a thing without asking her? And it was a totally new, unused and untried
charm! And the memory charm – she could hardly believe he’d done it, no matter how desperate! How
could he?* An anguished question. *How could he!* An angry accusation. And having this
charm hanging over her head waiting to be activated, without her being able to do anything about
it, made her feel, somehow, like a marked woman. She knew it was ridiculous, and yet the feeling
persisted. She knew now it was connected with what had happened at Dean and Ginny’s party - but
why? How? So many unanswered questions…

A maelstrom of emotions was at war inside her. She was furious at Harry. She felt hurt and
betrayed. Yet still she felt as though half of her had been ripped away because she wasn’t with
him. She wanted him *here,* his arms around her, telling her it was all right – that
everything was all right… but it wasn’t all right. *Never once, in all the years she’d known him,
had she **ever** doubted she could trust him. Never. Not once. And now? Her world had been
turned upside down, by the one person she’d always thought would be her anchor. **Had** always
been her anchor. She had no idea what to do. None. And there was no one to help her… no Harry…*
and then the tears came. She cried for a long time.

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

Harry did try to see her that day, but she wouldn’t see him – she was still too confused and
afraid that if she did see him, she’d throw herself into his arms and while she wanted to do that
more than anything else, she also knew she needed to think this whole incident through without
Harry – she needed to come to terms with this unknown magical charm that was now part of her and
over which she had no control. She could hear her mother’s soft, sorrowful voice as she explained
to Harry that Hermione couldn’t see him today but that she’d contact him soon.

Harry had returned to their flat and magically sealed it – he didn’t want to risk someone coming
by – he didn’t want to see anyone or talk to anyone. Except Hermione. He just wanted Hermione.

After Harry left she managed to tell her parents what had happened and then retreated to her
room – to cry again. They were a little bewildered by it all, not being so familiar with the
Wizarding world, but they did know that their daughter was both terribly hurt and angry.

That night, Harry did something he’d never done before in his life. He drank to forget.

He tried to see her the next day, too. She still refused. So that night he drank again.

After his third attempt to see her failed, he gave up. He began to drink every night because it
would guarantee him eight to ten hours of unconsciousness. Eight to ten hours without pain. Or
memories. He felt as though he was existing inside a nightmare that only Hermione could wake him
from.

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

Hermione woke on what was to be the first day Harry didn’t attempt to see her and realised she
needed to go back to work, that she couldn’t stay away indefinitely. So saying, she Flooed directly
into her office (remembering to correctly bypass the Protector Charms) to avoid seeing anyone (not
to mention avoiding a visit from a very irate Neville) and buried herself in her beloved books,
staying shut away in her office. Priscilla, who, on walking in to what she had expected to be an
empty office, got quite a fright when she found Hermione sitting there, pouring over some
parchments. However, after several attempts, Priscilla stopped trying to talk about whatever it was
that was wrong finding that Hermione steadfastly refused to be drawn beyond saying she’d “been
under the weather”.

Priscilla, of course, mentioned all this to Neville who was very aware his girlfriend’s concern
for Hermione. When he’d received Hermione’s note cancelling his scheduled visit with her and Harry
and in which she’d said she was going to visit her parents, he was certain that she’d confronted
Harry with what he’d told her over lunch and that it hadn’t gone well. *Not surprising, knowing
Hermione*, he thought. However, he felt his two long time friends deserved their privacy and he
didn’t tell Priscilla what he knew although he hoped fervently that Hermione and Harry would find a
way to sort out their problems very soon. He admitted to himself that it was because he felt partly
responsible for the current situation that he’d feel better when they did resolve it. He maintained
his faith that it would turn out for the best in the long run.

Hermione spent the minimum time possible at work. At home, she spent her time mostly thinking or
crying, and evenings talking with her mum or dad. Her father had simply said one night that while
it may be seen as having been the wrong thing to do, he thought Harry’s reasons were valid. He’d
said it very kindly, of course, but Hermione couldn’t help but feel that he was somehow taking
Harry’s side. Her mother had said later that it was an intrinsic male trait to want to protect
those they loved. ‘Women have that too!’ she’d cried indignantly. ‘I would do anything to protect
Harry!’

Her mother had nodded, then said quietly, ‘Hermione, yours is a special and rare case because
the man you love has never really known real love. Harry has never had anyone to love the way he
does you and certainly no one ever loved him in his life the way you do. And he’s already once
suffered the torture of thinking he’d lost you forever. I think he’s just not prepared to consider
the possibility of it ever happening again. I’d be terrified of that if I was him – I’m terrified
of it as your mother!’ She smiled ruefully at her daughter. ‘And I don’t doubt he knows, as I do,
that you wouldn’t have agreed to such measures being the independent and pragmatic person you are,
so he obviously felt he had to go about it the way he did. Trust his love for you and look to your
heart, it will tell you the truth.’ In some far flung corner of her mind, Hermione knew this to be
true although it still took her some days before she would allow the thought entry into her
conscious mind.

Not long afterwards, there came the night Hermione knew it was time. She was sitting on her bed,
her legs curled under her and a book open beside her; Crookshanks was curled up next to her and
Hedwig was on the perch Hermione had conjured for her. She’d returned to Hermione after delivering
her note to Neville and stayed for a couple of days. She’d left one morning but had returned that
evening although Hermione had no way of knowing why she hadn’t stayed with Harry. She spoke softly,
both animals looking at her, ‘I think it’s time to go home.’ She swore they both looked at her with
tacit agreement in their eyes.

***** ***** ***** **** ***** *****

It had been about ten days since Hermione had left and Harry was standing at his bedroom window,
staring out unseeingly having only woken a few minutes before, his head feeling heavy and thick
from the previous night’s dose of Ogden’s. When Hedwig unexpectedly landed on the window sill,
looking rather crossly at him, Harry immediately opened the window to let her in, realising that
she wouldn’t have been able to penetrate the seal he’d placed on the flat and must’ve been with
Hermione this whole time. He felt a sharp stab of guilt that he hadn’t given her one thought since
Hermione left as he took her down to the kitchen to give her some food and water, apologising
softly on the way and stroking her gently. He sat down at the kitchen table with the note Hedwig
had brought, his hands shaking as he unrolled it. His heart jumped into his throat at the sight of
the familiar handwriting. *She was coming home! Tonight!* His head dropped onto his arms, the
piece of parchment still in his grip and he did something he’d only ever done a handful of times in
his life: he cried.

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

Ginny Flooed into Dean’s flat that afternoon and dropping all her purchases, threw herself on
the large, soft couch facing the fireplace, kicking her shoes off and sighing happily at the
soothing comfort that spread to every bone in her shopped-out body. Putting her hands behind her
head, she crossed her ankles and lay there, smiling at the ceiling, enjoying her own happiness. It
was only three weeks until her wedding day! She felt that knot of excitement form in her stomach
that always made its presence felt when she thought of Sunday, the 14th of September:
her wedding day. Her dress was all ready – it was at the Burrow where she would, of course, be
getting ready. Visions of herself and her bridesmaids – Hermione, Luna and Priscilla – danced
through her head. They all looked wonderful of course…and there was Dean, looking positively
*edible!* She smiled as her daydream whirled around in her head – Dean, waiting for her, Harry
next to him, then Ron and Neville, all smiling at her as she walked towards them…

Today, she’d gone shopping for clothes for her honeymoon with her Mum who’d been in particularly
high spirits. The bridesmaids’ dresses had been chosen, all the flowers ordered, their hairstyles
decided upon and the honeymoon arranged; the venue was set and now it was just a matter of waiting.
Her eyelids closed gently and against their backdrop she saw not more visions of her wedding but
for the first time in almost two weeks, she dreamt once more of *him…*

*She was in her old flat… in bed…she’d heard footsteps echoing along the hallway and had
gotten up to see who it was. When she saw **him** walking towards her she froze, her heart
pounding…his black robes rippled as his long legs brought him closer and closer…she was unable to
speak, to move – to **think!** He spoke her name, his voice a cold echo in her stricken mind.
Get out! she cried, but she made no sound. He stood before her, looking down at her, smiling a
little as his eyes quickly travelled over her – **all** of her and that’s when she realised she
was wearing only her bra and panties and she felt panic rise within her and **still** she
couldn’t move! Then his voice throbbed with longing as he spoke her name and now she felt herself
melt, her head falling back and her eyes closing as his lips found the soft, sensitive skin of her
neck and his arms wrapped around her, pulling her against him. She could feel the soft silk of his
robes against her bare skin. He lifted his head and those grey eyes looked into hers. His were full
of love and desire – hers looked back at him with unseen anguish. Then he was kissing her, his
tongue demanding entrance. She was powerless to resist. While part of her screamed “No!” her arms
wound themselves around his neck and pushed her hips into his searching for that hardness she
wanted him to plunge into her…she was moaning softly…*

**‘Christ! Ginny! Ginny! Wake up!’**

*…she was walking backwards, still in his embrace; he was saying her name over and over, his
voice hoarse with desire, his hands travelling over her whole body, greedy for her softness. Merlin
how she wanted him! She felt the bed against the back of her legs and slowly fell back, taking him
with her…*

**‘Oh Christ, Ginny, please, Ginny, wake up!’**

*She pushed her hands through his thick, blonde locks, her touch seeming to incense him. He
renewed his assault on her lips, kissing her deeply, his tongue claiming hers… ‘You’re mine,’ he
whispered between kisses, ‘mine!’*

*‘I’m yours!’ she whispered back.*


**‘GINNY!’** He shook her so hard he was afraid he’d break her neck. **Why wouldn’t she wake
up?!**


‘Dean! Shit! What the fuck are you doing?!’

Dean lifted horrified, glazed eyes to the fireplace as Ron stepped out of it. *Ginny must’ve
approved him with the Floo network,* he thought wildly.

Ron was pulling Ginny’s limp body from his grasp. He stood there, his little sister’s
unconscious form in his arms, his friend and future brother-in-law collapsing onto the couch, his
head in his hands.

Ron took Ginny to the bedroom, laying her carefully on the bed and then sitting beside her,
gently stroking her hair off her face. Dean stumbled into the room behind him, almost falling onto
the other side of the bed, his gaze fixed on Ginny’s pale face in the sea of red hair.

‘What happened?’ asked Ron, not taking his eyes off Ginny.

Dean shook his head, his voice low and unsteady.

‘I don’t know! I got home – I Flooed home – and there she was on the couch – she was moaning and
thrashing around – I knew she was having another one of those bloody nightmares, only this time I
couldn’t wake her up! I was frantic! I yelled and yelled and shook her and -’ Dean dropped his head
into his hands, his anguish overcoming him.

‘Mate,’ said Ron, ‘I’m sorry – I just freaked out when I saw you shaking her and yelling like
that – it was dead scary! Merlin’s beard – what’s going on? I thought all these nightmares had
stopped a couple of weeks ago?’

‘They had!’ replied Dean, ‘this is the first time since – well, the last time…’ He took Ginny’s
limp hand in his and found himself fiddling with her engagement ring…

‘Ron, what should we do? She seemed to be fine! It seemed to be all over and now…’

Ron grasped Dean’s forearm across the bed. ‘She needs a Healer. Or something. There’s a reason
for this mate, there has to be. You just have to find it.’

Ginny moaned softly. ‘Dean?’

‘I’m here sweetheart!’

Ron stood up. ‘I’ll leave you to it mate – we can sort out the details of your stag party
another night, I think.’ He gave Dean a crooked smile as he left.

Dean gave him an abstracted nod and then focused on Ginny once again.

‘Sweetheart, what happened? Do you remember?’

Ginny felt tears slowly leaking from her eyes. She felt weak and distressed although she didn’t
know why.

She shook her head as she gazed up at Dean. ‘What’s happening to me?’ she whispered.

He gathered her up in his arms and kissed every part of her face he could reach.

‘I’m not sure, my darling, but we’ll find out, I promise you.’

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

Ron Flooed home again but when he found Luna wasn’t yet there he Apparated to Harry and
Hermione’s. He hadn’t seen them for well over a week and he desperately needed to talk over what
was going on with Ginny.

He knocked on their front door, expecting a cheerful, ‘Come in!’ from either or both of them.
Instead he got a rather flat, morose, ‘Who is it?’ from Harry.

‘It’s Ron, mate,’ he called.

The door swung open. ‘In the kitchen,’ came Harry’s voice from that direction. Ron’s gaze
followed the door as it closed itself again. *Harry was full of nifty little tricks like
that…*

As he walked into the kitchen he was struck by the empty feeling of the place. He stopped in the
doorway and looked around seeing Harry was sitting at the kitchen table with a half full glass of
what looked like firewhisky, staring into it as he swirled it around. Walking over and pulling out
a chair. Ron sat down and looked at his friend, waiting, wondering what on earth had happened to
make his best mate look so bloody awful.

Harry finally raised his head and looked at him. ‘What’s up?’

‘Think I should be the one asking that,’ he replied. ‘Where’s Hermione?’

Harry dropped his gaze. ‘Hermione’s – been away. She went to stay with her mum and dad.’ A long
shuddering sigh forced its way from him. ‘I did something that made her very angry. She’s coming
home tonight but she Flooed me a short while ago and said she was going to go and see Dumbledore
first. I’m just waiting.’

Harry sounded more forlorn than he’d ever done before in Ron’s memory and he felt a sharp stab
of guilt. He’d been so busy with the organisation for the upcoming World Cup he hadn’t had time for
anything except work and Luna – while Harry had been having a hard time unnoticed by the bloke who
was supposed to be his best friend. He sighed heavily. ‘I’m really sorry I haven’t been around
sooner, mate -’

‘Don’t be sorry, Ron – I had this place sealed – I wasn’t seeing anyone – you wouldn’t have
gotten in.’

Ron didn’t voice his surprise at hearing this, instead, he said, ‘So, what’d you do?’

Harry gave a short, harsh laugh. ‘I screwed up, that’s what I did!’

‘You? Screw up? With Hermione? Find that hard to believe mate.’ *Everything had just been
going too bloody well!* Ron thought bitterly. *The bottom had to fall out of the bloody
cauldron some time! First Ginny and those bloody nightmares and now Harry and Hermione! Why the
hell did this have to happen?*

Harry looked at him. ‘I did, Ron, this time, I really did.’

‘Got another glass?’ Ron made a mental note to owl or Floo Luna very soon that he didn’t think
he’d be home for dinner tonight.

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

‘So,’ said Professor Dumbledore, his blue eyes gazing gently at Hermione over his half-moon
spectacles, ‘he finally told you. I was sure he would get around to it eventually.’

Hermione pushed herself out of the comfortable armchair before the fire – the same armchair
she’d sat in with Harry a few months earlier. She went to stand in front of the fire, staring into
the flames. She’d Flooed here from her parents’ place after letting Harry know she was coming here
first. She’d been shaken at the sight of Harry when she’d Flooed him. He’d been sitting on the
couch, waiting for her to Apparate home. He looked awful, despite obviously having showered, shaved
and dressed not long before. He looked pale and he had dark smudges under his eyes. Ironically, if
she’d taken the time to look in a mirror, she would’ve seen that she didn’t look much
different.

‘Professor, I’m still struggling to fully understand why he’d do such a thing without asking me
or at the very least, *telling* me after he’d done it! Aside from not being etiquette, it’s
not ethical! How on earth could either of you know for certain that the charm would work? That
nothing would go wrong?’

‘My only explanation is his deep and desperate need to keep you safe, my dear,’ came the reply.
*And my desperate desire to ensure Harry’s happiness.* He didn’t elaborate on the fact that
he’d argued long and hard with Harry about this very matter. He’d told Harry he was wrong not to
ask Hermione’s permission. In the end, however, Harry won him over as Harry always did. The fact
that Harry’s happiness depended almost entirely on Hermione and with Harry’s happiness being
paramount to him, he too wanted to ensure her safety and although he’d always had a soft spot for
both of Harry’s best friends, it was really because of Harry he’d agreed. ‘I suppose, too, that
we’re both of us guilty of over-confidence in our abilities,’ he finished. In truth, neither he nor
Harry had given serious consideration to the spell not working as each was indeed sure of the
other’s abilities.

Hermione’s shoulders slumped. ‘I haven’t been able to think about anything else! I can
understand his motive in wanting to do it but – but not his failure to at least tell me! Especially
after what happened at the Burrow! And then to actually use a memory charm on me…’ her voice
drifted off as she wrapped her arms around herself as though trying to console herself. She got a
horrible empty feeling every time she remembered those last moments in the kitchen with Harry
before she’d Apparated to her parents’.

*‘Remove the memory charm.’ Her voice had been expressionless and she hadn’t looked at him
while he’d done as she’d ordered. She’d felt a slight tingling behind her eyes and then said,*
*‘I’m going to my parents’. I’m not sure for how long. I need to think. I’ll owl you.’ And she’d
left, Apparating to her parents’ home.*

She shivered. It suddenly hit her that a wizard as powerful as Harry could easily have
Obliviated her memory at that point and she wouldn’t have been any the wiser. She felt a rush of
some unnamed emotion. At least she was sure Harry would never do that.

‘I can’t excuse what he did, or my part in it, Hermione and I won’t try,’ replied Dumbledore.
‘As for what happened at the Burrow, Harry wouldn’t’ve known that was possible when I didn’t know
myself. We never came up with a satisfactory explanation for that ourselves.’ The Professor decided
that he would leave it to Harry to explain that the only reason they’d managed to think of for the
strange effect that had occurred at the Burrow was that there was someone present on the night who
represented danger to Hermione. The problem was, given the nature and location of the party, that
didn’t seem feasible and yet it had happened…it worried him.

He continued, ‘And of course, the Charm was never intended, or expected, to be activated when
the two of you were together. The fact that Harry was standing beside you at the time was
undoubtedly responsible for what happened.’ *Also a matter of concern. They’d assumed that if
Harry was with her, she wouldn’t be in danger. Perhaps the Charm did have an inherent fault or
weakness they hadn’t considered. He would need to look into this further. He hadn’t told Harry that
perhaps the Charm may also have been adversely affected by what had happened.*

‘Perhaps,’ she conceded, ‘but to turn around later and use a *memory charm* on *me!* I
wish -’ she couldn’t continue.

Dumbledore gazed up at her. ‘Wish what, my dear? That he loved you less? Desired your safety
less? Didn’t want to protect you above all else?’

Hermione span around and glared at the old man, stung by is words.

‘Of course you’d defend him!’ Then her head dropped back as she closed her eyes. *I’m usually
the one defending him,* she thought randomly and somehow the thought hurt. ‘But it doesn’t
excuse what he did,’ she continued, looking once more at the Professor, ‘even though he didn’t
Obliviate me, he still meddled with my memory to ensure I wouldn’t dwell on that event, including
the little exchange between he and Neville which he knew damn well I would’ve gotten to the bottom
of if I’d remembered it!’ She pushed her hands through her long, brown hair in exasperation. ‘Isn’t
it illegal to do such a thing?’ she demanded.

‘Not illegal, as such,’ Dumbledore replied. ‘This isn’t exactly one of the Unforgivable Curses
we’re talking about.’

She’d never really understood the meaning of being “torn”. But now she did – she was torn
between anger and love. There was still a knot of anger coiled within her, caused by what Harry had
done – without her knowledge, without her permission. But she loved him – so much it consumed her!
Even now, she wanted more than anything to have him right here, his arms around her...*Oh
Harry!* She smiled weakly as two tears trickled down her cheeks. *It’s his bloody saving
people thing again,* she thought bitterly. *He can’t help himself and it always seems to lead
trouble of one sort or another!* She felt the knot of anger she’d been carrying inside
loosen.

She was brought back to herself by a soft voice saying, ‘Put yourself in his place, my dear.’
The Professor was watching her from his own armchair.

Hermione glanced at the old man once more. *If the situation were reversed, somehow…what,
honestly, would she have done? She was sure her mother was right and that Harry had probably known
she wouldn’t agree and so he’d just done it. Because he needed above everything else to protect
her. And she knew, in his place, she’d’ve very probably done the same. And she knew something else.
That he’d been wrong, he’d made a mistake. But…she loved him. Still. Always. And she’d forgive him.
She had already - because she loved him. Because he’d done this out of his love for her. He needed
and wanted her as much as she did him and above all else…he’d done it out of fear - of losing her.
How could she ever forget the look on his face the night he’d found her after she’d been kidnapped
by those wretched Death Eaters? How could she continue to be angry now, for this?* That knot of
anger was rapidly unravelling. *Could she contemplate not being with him? NO! She didn’t even
want to…*a bitterly amused smile curled the corners of her mouth…*he’d sure as hell never do
anything like this again though!*

Her head had dropped, her eyes closed as she thought this through. Then she lifted her head and
looked at the Professor. The anger was gone - worn down, used up and burnt out. She just wanted to
go home. To Harry. ‘I forgive you, too,’ she said softly.

He nodded slowly. ‘Thank you. And I know your anguish, my dear, I know. I love him, too. The
only person to do so longer than you have, I think.’

‘Time to go home,’ said Hermione, feeling wrung out, walking towards Dumbledore with her hands
outstretched. The Headmaster rose from his chair and took her hands in his.

‘You know if you ever need anything, you only need ask.’

‘Of course,’ she said, standing on tiptoe to kiss him gently on the cheek. ‘And thank you.’

As she left, the old man whispered a reply she didn’t hear. ‘Thank *you*, my dear. Very
much.’

*Harry would be all right now.*

TO BE CONTINUED…

Author’s Note

A tad darker than my usual style, that chapter I think! But don’t worry - Chapter Four sees
Hermione arriving home (yay!) and, well, lots and lots of things going on! I’ll be able to update
next week, Thursday or Friday again – “see” you then! Lady J xoxo



4. Four Weddings & A Funeral - Chapter Four
-------------------------------------------

Author’s Note

A little more love and lightness in this Chapter I’m sure you’ll be glad to hear!

Sorry this is a little later than promised – I am really, REALLY pressed for time! But every
spare bit of it I’m spending on one my favourite pastimes: writing!

FOUR WEDDINGS & A FUNERAL

By Lady Jane

Chapter Four

While Ron and Harry sat talking at Harry’s kitchen table, Neville was looking down at the dark
haired woman walking beside him, holding his hand, and smiled. She looked up at that moment and
smiled back, squeezing his hand gently, her blue eyes glowing. They’d just had an early dinner at a
small, Muggle restaurant not far from Neville’s flat to which they were now returning. They’d
stopped on their way back and hired a movie which Priscilla promised he’d enjoy. ‘You’ll have
plenty of time to visit Harry and Hermione afterwards,’ she assured him. To Neville’s great relief,
Hedwig had arrived that morning with a note from Hermione rescheduling his visit with her and Harry
for that night, so he felt certain she was back home. He’d told Priscilla that he needed to see
Harry and Hermione in connection with what had happened at the Burrow. Priscilla noticed that
Neville didn’t volunteer any further information about the incident at the Burrow although she did
ask whether he knew why Hermione would strangely ignore her questions about the night of Dean and
Ginny’s party. Neville simply told her that the investigation wasn’t yet complete and Priscilla
very wisely decided to leave it there, at least for the time being.

As they walked, all other thoughts, except those of Priscilla, were pushed from Neville’s mind
as he remembered back to when she’d been shocked to discover, on her first visit to his place, that
he didn’t have a TV or a DVD player and was even more shocked to find out he didn’t have any sort
of music system whatsoever. ‘But I listen to the Wizarding Wireless Network,’ he’d told her,
puzzled.

Clicking her tongue, Priscilla had explained that while the WWN *was* a wonderful thing –
especially “Witching Hour”, her personal favourite – the Muggle world offered a fantastic array of
music and movies and entertainment. ‘I think being Muggle-born has been a blessing in disguise
because I know about both worlds.’ She looked at him and smiled. I’m taking you shopping.’

Neville had never been one to frequent Muggle stores. Priscilla, on the other hand, was quite
adept at finding her way around any sort of store; she was, after all a woman. Neville had been
grateful for her presence as he’d felt totally bewildered when faced with the choice of TVs alone –
size, shape, colour, functions, you name it! As for DVD players… ‘What exactly does “DVD” stand
for?’ he’d made the mistake of asking a store assistant at one point only to be stared at as though
he’d just landed from Mars. And the strangled reply, “Digital Video Disc”, hadn’t really explained
anything anyway and may as well have been spoken in Martian! The assistant he’d questioned
continued to make a peculiar strangling noise and Neville suspected he was attempting to cover up a
laughing fit.

A few days later, once the technician had set everything up in his lounge room, Priscilla
impressed him with her knowledge of how such things worked, showing him a bewildering array of
functions. Afterwards, they’d walked down the road to have some dinner and “pick up a movie” from
the local video store on the way back.

Now, as they walked into the foyer of the block of flats in which he lived, entering the
security code to gain access, Neville thought he’d never done anything as clever in his life as
when he’d first asked Priscilla to go out with him. *When he was with her, he felt happy. When he
thought about her, he felt happy. When he talked to her, he felt happy. Anything to do with
Priscilla made him happy. And so, some interesting little thoughts took solid shape in his
consciousness, for instance: Priscilla = happiness. No Priscilla = misery. Conclusion: Must keep
Priscilla around. How to guarantee Priscilla will always be around? Easy. Marry Priscilla. Yeah,
right! Because while marrying Priscilla may in itself be easy, asking her certainly wouldn’t be!
And what if she said no?* He shuddered*. He didn’t want to consider that possibility. Which
meant he’d need to woo Priscilla, win her over, convince her she couldn’t live without him just as
he couldn’t live without her. How do you do that? He’d need to talk to, um, Dean? Yes, he could
help. Harry? Oh, yes, definitely! Ron? As a last resort, perhaps. Or not.*

The “ding” of the lift announcing its arrival at the ground floor as the doors slid open brought
him out of his reverie.

‘Penny for your thoughts,’ said Priscilla mischievously as they stepped into the lift. Neville
absentmindedly punched the button for the 7th floor and tried to focus totally on
Priscilla instead of his own crazy thoughts.

‘Um, well, er, I think – well, you probably wouldn’t really find them interesting…’

Neville had sat, spellbound, as the movie played, wondering at how Muggles managed to live such
happy lives without any magic whatsoever although they did have many ingenious gadgets to make up
for their lack of magic…

‘So, what d’you think?’ as Priscilla eagerly, turning to him. They were sitting together on
Neville’s rather old-fashioned but nevertheless comfortable two-seater couch as the movie credits
scrolled up on the screen.

Priscilla had her legs curled up beside her, leaning on Neville. Neville smiled down at her. ‘It
was rather good – a little bewildering though – so many things happening! And that singer fellow
was rather – well – *interesting!*’ Priscilla laughed. The movie she’d hired was called “Love,
Actually”. He had quite a few other questions but he was sure they’d just cause Priscilla to make
that same strangled noise as the store assistant had and he definitely didn’t want her laughing at
him!

Reaching for the remotes on the small end table, Priscilla switched the TV and DVD player off
and turned on the stereo system which began playing soft music.

Priscilla gathered both of Neville’s hands in hers and smiled lovingly at him.

‘Neville, I need to ask you about something,’ she said in an uncharacteristically shy voice.
Although she’d given this a lot of thought, she was still awfully nervous now that the moment was
here.

‘Of course, anything,’ he told her earnestly.

‘Well,’ Priscilla swallowed; how the hell could she say this without sounding like some rampant
nymphomaniac? Which she knew wasn’t, since she hadn’t yet slept with a man, but oh how she wanted
to sleep with *this* man! A day hadn’t passed since Ginny and Dean’s party that she didn’t
think about this – wondering whether she’d be doing the right thing. Would she regret it? She
didn’t think so. Was she being too forward? But then, why should the man always have to be the one
to take the initiative and risk rejection? She’d decided to trust her heart – and her heart wanted
Neville and if she wasn’t mistaken, he wanted her just as much. She raised her eyes to meet his.
‘Well,’ she repeated, ‘it’s just that I wondered what your views were – are – on, um –
*furthering* our relationship…’

Neville frowned, feeling puzzled. *“Furthering”? What did she mean? What was she
asking?*

Priscilla realised he had no idea what she was talking about and decided that perhaps a
different tack would be advisable. A straightforward tack. He’d understand that, surely.

Swallowing nervously, she said, ‘Neville, it’s just that I’ve never slept with a man – I mean,
I’ve never made love -’

Neville did indeed understand that, no problem! He suddenly found himself too embarrassed to
look at Priscilla. *Why was she telling him this?* he wondered desperately, although he had to
admit to a thrill running through at him at the knowledge that she hadn’t had a serious boyfriend
before him.

Priscilla lifted her hands and gently framed his face although what she really wanted to do, the
thought making her feel giddy, *was push him down on the lounge, rip his clothes off and have her
way with him!*

‘Please don’t be embarrassed -’ *or I’ll fall apart!* ‘I know I’m not saying this very
well, but what I am trying to tell you is -’ *Here goes nothing!* ‘- that I want to make love
with *you*.’ *There! I said it! Oh dear, what will he think of me? Have I made a
mistake?*

Neville sat gazing at her, stunned, feeling as though every word had emptied out of his head
since he could find none in there to use!

Feeling a little desperate in the face of Neville’s silence and her own doubts, Priscilla
continued, ‘Please say something! If you don’t want me - don’t want to - I’ll - understand -’
*I’ll die!*

Neville finally found his voice. Shaking his head as he grasped her upper arms he told her
unsteadily, his voice hoarse, ‘Of course I want you! I just didn’t think you’d want to – well, that
it was a little too soon for that – but maybe that’s just me. I think I’m a little
old-fashioned…’

Throwing off his arms, Priscilla threw her own around his neck, relief sweeping through her.

‘One of the reasons I love you!’ she cried.

Wrapping his arms around her slender form, Neville buried his face in her hair. ‘I love you,
too,’ he mumbled happily.

Priscilla pulled back just enough so that she could look at him. ‘You do?’

Neville nodded, unable to stop smiling.

‘Neville, you need to kiss me – *now!’*

Which of course he did. And as he kissed her, he became aware that her hands seemed to have
taken on a life of their own because he felt them sliding from around his neck to start unbuttoning
his shirt. But then he was distracted by their kiss – which Priscilla had taken to the next level
by parting her lips slightly and pressing her tongue gently against Neville’s mouth and he found
himself lost in the marvellous sensations that followed, in places he wouldn’t have thought had any
connections to his mouth whatsoever. Then he realised that the last button just above his belt was
being unbuttoned and Priscilla’s small, warm hands were slipping around his waist, then back to his
stomach and up and over his chest to his shoulders and how the hell was it that he had any part of
his brain available to register what her hands were doing when her tongue was doing things that had
to be *illegal!* Then those law-breaking lips left his mouth and travelled along the edge of
his jaw, down his neck and where the hell were they going now?! He heard someone moan and realised
it was himself. Priscilla’s mouth had reached his chest but she didn’t stop there, oh no…her soft
lips were still travelling…moving down…down over his stomach…and sweet Mother of Merlin was she
actually trying to undo his belt?! This was too much – too much! No man could be expected to just
sit here and take this!

‘Priscilla, please!’ he managed to gasp.

Then somehow those soft lips were now whispering into his ear… ‘Please what?’ they said.

He was about to speak when his voice was once more taken from him, this time by the feel of her
hand on the now painfully hard bulge in his pants…

Then she was standing up and tugging at his hand. Obediently, he stood up, wrapping his arms
around her in an effort to steady himself since there was definitely no blood left in his head and
he was a little dizzy as a consequence. Her lips once more found his and this time he was the one
to demand entrance to her mouth which she gladly gave.

When their lips finally parted, she spoke softly, her voice trembling a little. ‘Neville, please
take me to bed.’

Her reply was a groan that rose from deep within Neville’s chest.

‘I’ll take that as a “yes”,’ she whispered.

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

As the movie Neville and Priscilla were watching ended, Hermione arrived home, Flooing into an
empty lounge room, wondering where Harry was. She left her bag on the couch and quickly became
aware of the low rumble of male voices coming from the kitchen. She wondered who Harry was talking
to. She felt a surge of anticipation at the thought of seeing him again – although at the same time
her stomach was doing a great imitation of an out-of-control centrifuge*.* And her knees felt
weak. *Mother of Merlin! She hadn’t felt nervous anticipation like this since the days when Harry
had first moved here from Hogwarts!* She recognised Ron’s voice as she drew closer and heard him
mention his beloved Chudley Cannons. *Quidditch! They were talking about Quidditch!* She
couldn’t help but smile. Something so trivial and yet so normal – something she found herself
suddenly craving. As she reached the doorway, she felt as though an awful weight she’d been
carrying dropped away and she knew she’d done the right thing in coming home. She had only the
tiniest moment in which to take in the sight of the two men at the table, now with mugs of tea in
front of them – but in that moment was held a hundred different thoughts, emotions and memories…
*the first time Harry had kissed her that night at dinner…that unforgettable first night they’d
made love…and the next morning…all the fun and love since and then Harry proposing to her…* her
heart was thumping madly at the sight of him and then Harry looked up and was on his feet, closing
the distance between them in seconds, crying her name as he wrapped his arms around her, holding
tightly to him, his face buried in her hair which she’d worn out this night. Hermione threw her
arms around his waist as he spoke, his voice low, throbbing with emotion.

‘Hermione! Thank God you came back. Thank God you’re home. Please don’t ever leave me again. I’m
so sorry. I’ll never do that again.’

Turning her head so that she could speak, she whispered, ‘This is where I belong. I won’t leave
again.’ She could feel tears prickling her eyes. The feel of Harry’s arms around her once more –
the feel of Harry! – was indescribable.

Harry lifted his head, his green eyes raking her face, looking to see that she meant it.

‘You can’t imagine how sorry I am -’ he began.

Reaching up, she kissed him softly. ‘Yes, I can.’

‘Can you forgive me?’ Harry’s voice was tense.

Hermione looked up at him, her expression serious. ‘I already have,’ she told him softly.

Harry hadn’t realised he’d stopped breathing until he drew in a deep breath on hearing
Hermione’s words. Then he reached back and pulled Hermione’s left hand up so that he could look at
it. His eyes went from the ring on her finger to meet her steady gaze. ‘I never took it off,’ she
told him quietly. Holding her gaze, he lifted her hand and turned it, pressing his lips gently to
the soft skin of the inside of her wrist. They’d both forgotten Ron was there. Harry was aware of
only one thing: Hermione. He lifted her hand to place it against his own cheek, still looking at
her.

‘You’re the only thing that makes everything right for me,’ he told her softly.

‘And you’re all I’ll ever need,’ she told him.

‘Oy! Where’s my hug?’ Ron stood up, his hands on his hips, bringing both their gazes to rest on
him blankly for a moment before turning back and smiling at each other, exchanging a look that held
tacit agreement to talk later.

‘I’ll make you some tea,’ said Harry as he reluctantly released Hermione, lifting his fingers to
linger softly on her cheek for a moment, ‘you go hug Ron.’

Ron wrapped his long arms around her and squeezed her tightly before they sat down.

‘All right, Hermione?’ he asked softly. ‘Harry told me what happened.’

She nodded, feeling tears prick the back of her eyes again, but she blinked them away. This was
not the time to cry. As she and Ron sat down, she looked over at Harry, saying, ‘Harry, I asked
Neville to come over tonight – I would’ve thought he’d be here by now. You haven’t heard from him?’
As she looked at him, she couldn’t help but smile and experienced a wild urge to run across the
room to him and just *hug* him again!

She watched as Harry, while turning on the tap to fill the kettle, gave a slight shrug, saying,
‘Haven’t heard from him.’ Then he turned and looked at her and as their eyes met he silently
mouthed, ‘I love you.’ Hermione smiled and did the same before turning back to Ron.

‘Do you know,’ said Hermione thoughtfully, ‘I think Neville could well have forgotten about us –
he’s usually a little early if anything. Priscilla told me they were having dinner tonight and I
wouldn’t be surprised if they end up -’

‘Stop right there!’ cried Ron, pretending to be overcome with embarrassment. ‘I am **not**
thinking about Neville and Priscilla because – well, I’m just not thinking about them, all right?
It’s not *nice!*’

‘Not nice? Bet Neville wouldn’t agree with you there!’ exclaimed Harry causing Ron to roll his
eyes in mock disgust which in turn made Harry laugh for what was the first time since Hermione had
left. As Harry walked back to the table and placed Hermione’s mug of tea before her then bent down
and kissed the top of her head, at the same time inhaling the wonderfully familiar scent of her
hair. He sat down then, still smiling at Hermione. *Having her home, having her near me*, he
thought, *is the only thing I need to start putting the memories of all that misery behind
me.*

‘I think Neville’s ripe for the picking myself’ remarked Hermione, giving Harry a mischievous
look. Harry winked at her before saying, ‘Yes, snogging alone really just isn’t satisfying enough
in the end and -’ but he didn’t finish as Ron groaned. ‘Will you two quit it please? Merlin’s
beard!’

Hermione laughed, then, resting her chin on her hand, asked, ‘How’s life with Luna going?’

‘Better subject,’ answered Ron and then he just smiled – a really *big* smile which said it
all and Hermione couldn’t help but laugh softly. ‘That good, hmm?’

‘I think I’m going to have to make it a permanent arrangement soon – make sure I can keep her
around.’

Hermione gasped, her eyes widening in surprise. ‘Propose?’ She thought she heard Harry murmur
something that sounded like, ‘Best thing I ever did,’ and threw him a quick smile.

Ron went beet red. ‘Well, don’t say anything, but I’ve been thinking about it. I know we haven’t
been together *that* long but maybe we could have a longish engagement. At least if we’re
engaged I’ll know she wants to stay around.’

Hermione patted Ron’s hand with her free hand. ‘Your secret’s safe with us, don’t worry!’

Smiling, Ron looked around the table and remarked, ‘How about this?’ as he looked around the
table. ‘Just the three of us! It’s been a while.’

‘Here’s to us,’ said Hermione, laughing, raising her mug into the air.

‘To us,’ repeated Ron and Harry, lifting their mugs to hers.

‘Jeez, toasting with tea. Getting a little tame, aren’t we?’ joked Ron.

‘I’ve had enough Ogden’s recently to last me a lifetime!’ retorted Harry. Hermione shot him a
concerned look and he gave her a lopsided smile. ‘Tell you later,’ he said quietly.

Ron’s expression because serious then as he looked at his two friends. ‘I actually came here
tonight because I needed to talk to you about something – it’s Ginny – she’s started having
nightmares again and -’

Before he could finish, a sound reverberated through the flat causing all three to nearly drop
their mugs. It took a few seconds to register that the noise was being caused by what sounded like
a herd of hippogriffs pounding on Harry’s front door. Harry moved first, running into the hallway,
followed quickly by Ron and Hermione, both of whom stayed behind him as he gestured at the door. As
it swung open, the silence was immediate and they could see it had been Dean doing the pounding. He
collapsed against the door frame, a stricken look on his face as he stared at them. Hermione
brushed past Harry to reach him, wrapping both her arms around one of his and pulling him towards
the kitchen.

Harry and Ron moved aside to let them past, Harry shutting the door with a quick wave before
they followed them back to the kitchen.

‘Looks like I may have to break out the Ogden’s again,’ murmured Harry as Ron threw him a
worried look – this no doubt had something to do with Ginny – what now?

‘Where’s Ginny?’ asked Ron, sitting down, pulling out the chair beside him for Hermione. ‘Is she
all right?’

Dean nodded. ‘She’s asleep at home,’ he said, his voice barely audible.

‘What happened?’ asked Hermione.

As they sat there, around the table, the trio still with their tea while Dean stared down into a
glass of firewhisky, they waited patiently for their friend to collect himself enough to talk. His
hands, wrapped around his glass, were trembling.

Slowly raising his head, Dean looked around at his friends, his deep brown eyes looking haunted.
Hermione was to his left, Ron to his right and Harry between them.

‘I don’t know what to do,’ he said simply. And he went on to explain that after suffering those
terrible nightmares which had worried them all, Ginny had stopped having them as suddenly as she’d
started, although they had no idea why or how. The memory of them had faded in the days following,
helped by the fact that they were flat out with organising the wedding. Everything had once again
seemed normal. He glanced at Ron who knew he was wondering whether he’d told Harry and Hermione
what had happened earlier. Ron gave his head a slight shake to indicate he hadn’t.

Dean hesitated; for some reason, he felt compelled then to relate the events of the whole day,
as though it would help put everything into perspective somehow…or put off the inevitable moment
when he had to relive this latest nightmare. So he started with the fact that early that morning
Ginny had gone for a walk, “to clear the cobwebs” as she put it and then shortly afterwards had
left with her mother to go shopping. He’d then gone out later himself to pick up some groceries,
Ginny arriving home while he was out. He described how he’d found her on the couch on his return
and Ron’s arrival a few short minutes afterwards. He recounted how Ron had taken her to their
bedroom and she’d finally come around, Ron nodding as Dean spoke.

Dean continued, telling them Ginny had gone to bed early after Ron had left – then he faltered,
his hands running through his short, thick curls, his fine features creased with distress. With
some gentle encouragement from Hermione, he swallowed hard and continued.

After Ron left, Ginny’d had a small amount of soup Dean heated up for her, following which she
just wanted to sleep, telling him she felt exhausted. He’d checked on her shortly afterwards and he
was relieved to find her sleeping peacefully. He decided to tidy up a little and while
straightening the scatter cushions on the couch in the lounge room, he found Ginny’s “rose
necklace” as he thought of it, under one of those cushions. *It could easily have come off on any
one of the occasions she lay there to read – it was her favourite reading spot…*he went and
slipped it into the top drawer of her bedside table where she kept her jewellery, smiling down at
her peacefully sleeping form.

At this point, Hermione interrupted and asked him about the “rose necklace”, what it looked like
and where had it come from. Dean explained to her how Ginny had come by it, causing Hermione to
frown thoughtfully into the distance while he continued, his voice becoming tense as he faced
retelling the events of that evening that had brought him here. His fists began clenching as he
told them he’d gone and sat in the kitchen, making himself a light meal and eating it while he read
that day’s edition of the Daily Prophet. ‘They’re still managing to mention something about you two
and your engagement even now!’ he said in disgust. He knew Hermione and Harry had done everything
possible to avoid the inevitable publicity following the announcement of their engagement, although
to no avail. If reporters lacked facts, they simply made it up.

Dean took a deep breath, closing his eyes. Hermione laid her hand on his, knowing her gesture of
comfort would probably be futile at this point. His voice low and tense, he continued.

‘After I finished eating, that’s when I went to see Mum and Dad. It was when I came back, when I
Flooed home, I found Ginny -’

‘Found Ginny how?’ Hermione asked as he hesitated.

“Having another one of those cursed bloody nightmares!’

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

*After finishing the soup Dean had warmed up for her, Ginny felt exhausted and told him she
wanted to go back to bed. As she slid between the soft, cool sheets Ginny felt herself relax and
almost immediately began to drift off to sleep…she slept peacefully for some time, unaware of
Dean’s quiet visit to put her necklace in her drawer. Then at some point she began to dream once
more – more vividly than she ever had before – feeling as though it was more reality than
dream…*

*She was in some grandiose bedchamber –there were three sets of tall French doors which were
opened and led out onto a huge, stone balcony; there was warm sunshine streaming in through the
doors, the light, sheer curtains adorning them fluttering gently in the breeze. The chamber looked
almost mediaeval – a huge four poster bed with elaborate hangings stood at one end. There was a
fireplace opposite, not needed this warm, balmy day. A writing desk and chair sat facing outside at
one of the French doors. Some armchairs were arranged around a low table in the middle of the room.
There were books here and there about the room and some beautiful paintings adorned the walls – all
landscapes. She became aware that she was dressed in beautiful and expensive silk robes in a soft
shade of aqua. Her long, red hair tumbled down her back. She headed towards the closest doorway but
before she could go through she heard a door open behind her and turned.*

*He entered and closed the door behind him, smiling at her. Then he was walking towards her –
gliding smoothly, his own robes of deep, silvery forest green floating behind him as he strode
towards her. When he reached her, he slid one hand beneath the curtain of her hair, curling his
fingers around the nape of her neck.*

*‘Ginevra, you look breathtaking, as always,’ he said quietly.*

*The sound of his voice sent a delicious shiver throughout her body and she found herself
wanting him to kiss her, looking up at him, her lips parting slightly. He immediately bent his head
to do just that, his grip on her neck tightening slightly, his free arm sliding around her waist,
pulling her against him. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, relaxing against him, opening
her mouth to him.*

*Hadn’t she once fought this? Hadn’t she felt trapped? Hadn’t she struggled to escape? Those
memories slid away, leaving her to kiss him harder, wanting him so much she ached with it. She was
aware of being carried, being reverently laid on the huge four poster bed. He was sitting on the
edge of the bed, leaning over her, smiling lovingly down at her as his fingers played with her soft
auburn curls.*

*‘Shall I stay?’ he asked.*

Dean walked into the bedroom, smiling as he saw his fiancée lying in bed, the suggestion of a
smile hovering on her lips.

*And in her dream, Ginny heard herself say, ‘Yes.’ She wanted him to stay.*

Dean bent down to kiss her on the forehead. *Was she talking in her sleep?* he
wondered.

*The voice inside Ginny’s head was insistent: ‘Say my name, I need to hear you say my
name.’*

*She **was** saying something!* Dean thought as he leant down a little closer to catch
what it was.

*Ginny obeyed the voice. ‘Draco - please stay – I want you here with me… Draco… I want you,
Draco…’ She felt these words reverberate throughout her body, although she didn’t know whether she
was hearing them or saying them.*

**‘NO!’**

The word was torn from Dean and he staggered backwards, his arms flailing until they came into
contact with the wall and he fell against it, feeling sick. He couldn’t tear his eyes from her. She
was smiling and whispering, her head turning slowly from side to side.

Her back arched, her head dropped back and she screamed his name: **‘Draco!’**

Then she collapsed back onto the bed, breathing heavily, a smile still touching her lips. He
watched in horrified fascination as her breathing slowed and he realised she was now truly
asleep.

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

*A long way away, another woman who spent her nights staring at the ceiling, whimpered softly
as tears began to fall unheeded from her eyes*.

That morning, that same woman had risen from her bed, knowing she was expected to do so although
each morning it was getting harder and harder *not* to simply just stay there…she no longer
cared about anything, even living. Although, that feeling resurfaced again, the feeling that there
was something missing…

She wandered into the kitchen where she found her son pouring steaming water into the teapot
from the kettle.

‘Good morning, Draco,’ she said quietly.

He turned and smiled at her. ‘Good morning, Mother,’ he replied. *She always looked the same
these days: tired.* ‘Sleep well?’

She nodded automatically. ‘Yes, thank you. You?’

‘Always.’

They said the exact same thing each morning to each other.

She sat down at the small, round kitchen table and waited. Draco had already set the table. Now
he would bring the teapot over and leave it to steep while he cooked their breakfast. After placing
their laden plates on the table he would, as always, go to the fridge last and bring over the
orange juice.

As he seated himself he smiled at her. ‘Don’t let it go cold.’

She gave him a small smile and picked up her knife and fork.

Draco glanced surreptitiously at his mother while he ate, noticing she was actually eating a
little by herself.

*Maybe she’ll recover from whatever it is my father did her,* he thought. *Maybe she just
needs time.*

‘Do you know where my roses are?’

Draco froze in mid-movement, his fork halfway to his mouth. ‘Roses?’ he repeated blankly.

‘Two of my roses are gone. I suppose Lucius took them back.’

‘Back?’ Draco slowly put his fork down, watching his mother intently while ice seemed to be
forming somewhere inside him.

‘He gave them to me long ago, so long ago…’

Looking down at the congealing egg on his plate he spoke. ‘Mother, what roses? What are you
talking about?’ He closed his eyes. *Don’t tell me what I’m afraid you’re going to tell me!
Please let me be wrong!*

Her eyes, her empty eyes, drifted to his. He saw a flicker in them.

‘Lucius gave me a beautiful crystal rose not long after I met him and then another just before
our engagement was announced. He gave me a third one as a wedding gift. They were always with me.
He said they had to be. But…’ her gaze shifted once more, slowly passing around the room.

‘But what? Why did they always have to be with you?’

‘I don’t know. And now they’ve gone.’

*Gone.* *Because he’d found them and given two of them to Ginevra. He’d found them when
he was unpacking his mother’s bag along with a lot of other bits and pieces that he’d just put away
– objects that would serve no purpose; his mother’s packing had been very haphazard and he’d
assumed the roses were just beautiful, although useless, objects too.*

‘Didn’t father ever tell you why you needed to keep them with you?’ he asked, trying not to
sound as desperate as he felt for this information.

Once more she looked at him. ‘No. But I came to believe he’d charmed them in some way. I
accidentally left them behind once when we went on a holiday and he Apparated back home just to get
them. I suppose they had to be charmed to be that important to him.’

‘What sort of charm?’

‘I don’t know. But since they’ve been gone I’ve felt - even emptier. Even more alone.’

*Perhaps because he’d taken those roses and given them to someone else…*

Draco stood up, feeling as though the ice had taken over his whole body – he was cold all
over.

*He felt a desperate need to understand why his father had given the roses to his mother –
even more desperately, he needed to know what it was they did – what charm infused them. He’d have
to somehow see Ginevra – find out if she was all right. But how?*

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

“Draco, please stay, I want you here with me, Draco, I want you, Draco.” Dean’s voice has hard
as he finished repeating the words Ginny had spoken in her sleep, words etched indelibly in his
memory; his head dropped. Hearing those words had been a waking nightmare. Thinking about them
added to the well of hatred in him for the man they were meant for. Repeating them like this made
him feel physically sick.

Ron shot to his feet causing his chair to fall backwards, his fists clenched by his sides.
‘**Malfoy!**’ He spat the name out as though it was the crudest curse he knew. **‘***Why in
the name of Merlin would she be saying his name in a dream? In a nightmare!’*

Harry reached over and pulled gently on Ron’s arm. ‘C’mon Ron, sit down,’ he said, waving his
hand to bring Ron’s chair upright again. Ron obediently dropped back onto the chair, placing his
clenched fists on the table, his face suffused with fury, muttering under his breath.

‘Dean,’ said Hermione gently, resting her hand on his arm, ‘those nightmares of Ginny’s a few
weeks ago, were they anything to do with Malfoy?’

Dean shook his head, ‘I don’t know – I never heard her say anything before and she never
remembers anything – she just feels terrified of being trapped, of not being able to get away. This
is the first time I’ve ever heard her talking in her sleep.’

Hermione looked at Harry.

‘We have to talk to Professor Dumbledore,’ she said firmly.

Harry raised his eyebrows at her in a questioning gesture. ‘Tonight?’ He quickly squashed the
sharp pang of disappointment that they wouldn’t be alone as soon as he’d like.

‘Tonight,’ replied Hermione and turning to Dean, she said quietly, ‘We’re all going to your
place, Dean, to wake Ginny up and take her with us. I think it’s extremely important we get her to
Dumbledore. Ron?’

Ron stopped muttering and looked at Hermione, not having taken in anything she’d said.

Hermione sighed. ‘Ron, Harry and I are going to take Dean and Ginny to see Dumbledore tonight –
to begin getting to the bottom of her problem. Do you want to come?’

Nodding vigorously, it was then Ron realised he’d completely forgotten to owl or Floo Luna to
let her know where he was and that he’d be late…*oh shit!*

‘Listen, I’ll meet you at Dean’s – I have to duck home first and see Luna.’

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

Ron arrived home to find Luna frantic. To say the least.

‘I didn’t know where you were! There was no note! I didn’t know where to *begin* looking
for you! I was -’

Wrapping his arms around her, Ron rested his cheek against the top of her heard.

‘I’m sorry, Luna, I’m so sorry…’

He could feel her shaking as she started to cry. He walked slowly backwards, pulling her with
him until he felt the sofa behind his legs and sat down, pulling her onto his lap.

He told her briefly what had happened at Harry and Hermione’s which was enough to make her stop
crying and look at him wide eyed, dabbing at her eyes with the hem of her shirt.

‘Poor Ginny! Poor *Dean!* What’s he going to do?’

So he told her what was happening. ‘You don’t need to come to Hogwarts with me, but I do want to
be there – I’ll probably go back and tell mum and dad about Ginny afterwards, too- ’

Wiping the remnants of tears from her face Luna gave him a small smile.

‘It’s all right – you go. But let me know as soon as you can what’s happening, won’t you?’

Ron nodded, then kissed her. Luna’s arms stole around his neck. He kept kissing her. Leaning
back a little she smiled at him. ‘I think I’ll wait up for you,’ she told him, running her hand
lovingly down the side of his face.

‘Luna, will you marry me?’

Luna nearly fell off his lap and onto the floor, saved only by Ron’s quick reflexes.

‘Pardon?’ she squeaked.

Ron blushed. *Now what the hell had made him say **that** at **this** precise
moment?*

‘Will you marry me?’ he repeated, suddenly realising it was entirely possible she’d say “no” and
just what would he do then?

She stared at him, her mouth open slightly in an “O” of surprise, her silvery eyes fixed on
him.

Ron closed his eyes, unable to bear the suspense. Then he felt the soft touch of her lips
against his. *Kissing was good, right? You didn’t kiss someone if you were going to turn down
their proposal, did you?*

He pulled away slightly and looked at her. He had to know.

‘Well?’ he asked, his future contained in the one small word she would speak.

Luna cupped his face with her hands and smiled at him.

‘As if I could say anything but yes you silly man!’

He grinned then started kissing her again, feeling his heart swell to twice its size. *Yes!
She’s mine!*

Then it hit him and pulled away once more.

‘I don’t have a ring for you!’ he lamented, feeling crushed.

Luna laughed softly. ‘I don’t need a ring from my king – at least not right this instant! You’ll
do…’ And she kissed him again.

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

Neville lay on his back with his arm around Priscilla who was lying on her side, snuggled up
against him, her arm thrown across his bare stomach, her leg possessively curled around his. He had
a grin on his face that he just couldn’t control. He turned his head slightly and felt his lips
come into contact with her forehead so he kissed her, a satisfied, ‘Mmmmm,’ escaping him as he did
so. ‘Thank goodness I didn’t buy a single bed,’ he commented randomly, ‘even though my grandmother
thought I should.’ Priscilla giggled.

‘What?’ he murmured.

‘A single bed would’ve made things rather interesting, don’t you think? And you know, I just
feel so *silly* and wonderful and happy all at the same time!’ she told him. Then she pushed
herself up onto her elbow, sweeping her long dark hair out of her eyes as she looked down at
him.

‘D’you know, that was every bit as wonderful as I knew it would be with you,’ she told him
softly, trailing a finger down the length of his face.

‘And how did you know that?’ he said, catching her hand in his and kissing her palm.

She shrugged, smiling. ‘I’m just clever, that’s all!’

‘I won’t argue with that!’ Neville rolled over so that he was lying mostly on top of Priscilla
who was now lying on her back. He let go of her hand and cupped her face, leaning down to kiss her
tenderly. ‘I love you,’ he whispered.

‘I love you too,’ she whispered back.

Before he could kiss her again, she smiled up at him. ‘Is that what I think it is?’ she asked
cheekily, moving her hips a little which elicited a soft groan from Neville.

‘You’re the clever one, you tell me,’ he murmured hoarsely. But she couldn’t tell him anything
because she was too busy being kissed again.

Neville *still* hadn’t remembered he was supposed to be at Harry and Hermione’s.

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

In Hermione and Harry’s kitchen, they, along with Dean, stood for a second as Ron Disapparated
then Hermione and Harry stood each side of Dean, both with a hand on his arm.

‘All right, Dean, let’s go and get Ginny,’ said Harry; Hermione gave Dean’s arm a reassuring
squeeze as the three of them Disapparated. On arriving at Dean’s, they moved quickly towards the
bedroom. The room was in darkness and Dean ran his hand over the wall to flip the light switch. The
three figures froze as they took in the dishevelled state of the bed.

The *empty* bed.

Ginny was nowhere to be seen.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Author’s Note

Oh dear, I think I may need some earmuffs just in case there are any howls of indignation
travelling down the cable! How about we don’t think of it as a cliffie – we can just think of it as
a bit of a wait before…um… Well, all right, I guess it IS a cliffie. Sorry!!!! But it’s just a
**little** one and I’m hoping I’ll be able to update next Thursday or Friday – depending on time
(Chapter 5 is written but it’s my slightly obsessive compulsive need for revision I need to deal
with!) but I promise, cross-my-heart-and-hope-to-die, that I will update as soon as possible! In
the meantime, I can hardly wait to hear what you think!

Janie xoxo



5. Four Weddings & A Funeral - Chapter Five
-------------------------------------------



Author's Note

Hi everyone! Sorry this is a tad late - busy, busy, busy! Oh and Julesy: sorry to disappoint
you…And once again, huge thanks to Kirsti *waves madly* ever a gem and a tremendously helpful one
too!

PS I won't repeat the things that have been running through my head over this latest glitch!
I don't handle glitches well! *gnashing of teeth while head bangs repeatedly on monitor* I have
every finger and toe crossed that this time it works!!!

FOUR WEDDINGS & A FUNERAL

By Lady Jane

*Hermione and Harry stood each side of Dean, both with a hand on his arm. They then Apparated
to his flat with him, moving quickly towards the bedroom as soon as they arrived. It was in
darkness andDean ran his hand over the wall to flip the light switch.*

*The three figures froze as they took in the dishevelled state of the bed.*

*The* **empty** *bed.*

*Ginny was nowhere to be seen*.

Chapter Five

Dean called Ginny's name out loud, his voice full of anguish. Hermione span around as she
heard Ginny's muffled tones coming from the bathroom and enormous relief swept through all
three of them, Dean leaning against the wall such was the force of his relief.

`Ginny! Are you all right?' called Hermione, who, being the closest, reached the bathroom
door first, just as it opened and a pale, pyjama-clad Ginny emerged. She looked dazedly at all of
them in turn. Dean was beside her in seconds, pulling her into his arms and holding her tightly to
him. `Thank God you're all right!' he groaned.

Ginny's arms slowly wound around his waist, her head coming to rest on his chest, although
she didn't speak.

`Let's go make some tea,' said Harry, turning and leading the way down the hall to the
kitchen.

`Bugger tea,' said Hermione quietly but with feeling, `I'd like a glass of
wine.'

Harry looked at her, raising his eyebrows and she shrugged ruefully at him, smiling. `Sometimes
tea just doesn't cut it,' she told him.

`Too true,' replied Harry softly, the memory of Hermione's absence and Mr Ogden's
presence fresh in his memory.

`Ginny? Hermione, Harry? Tea?' asked Dean as they entered the kitchen.

Ginny indicated she preferred tea, Harry also asking for some, so Dean set about making it while
Ginny, Harry and Hermione seated themselves at the kitchen bench. Since Hermione had asked for a
glass of wine, Dean placed a bottle of red on the bench with some glasses and asked Harry to please
open it and pour for himself and Hermione, all the while glancing at Ginny, his concern very
evident.

Hermione, too, was studying Ginny and thought she seemed unusually introverted - as though
having to talk to them was interrupting some inner process.

When Hermione had asked Dean for details of the rose necklace he'd had made for Ginny, Harry
became aware that Hermione was “on to something”. It brought back to him those times at Hogwarts
when Hermione would suddenly jump up from the table in the Great Hall or spring out of an armchair
in the Gryffindor common room, muttering to herself as she hared off to the library to check up on
something she'd remembered or had just thought of, not stopping to tell either him or Ron what
it was. He wished he could ask her now what it was but knew, frustratingly, that it wasn't the
time or place.

Shortly afterwards, a cup of tea cradled in her hands, Ginny smiled wanly at them as Dean took a
seat beside her. `Thanks for coming,' she said. She dropped a hand to rest it on Dean's arm
on the bench in front of her, glancing at Harry and Hermione. `Has Dean told you about my
nightmares?' she asked. They both nodded.

Ginny sighed and took a sip of her tea, saying no more, returning to her inner world.

`Ginny,' said Hermione, a creeping tendril of dread curling in her stomach, `do you remember
your nightmare tonight, what happened?' If she hadn't been watching for it, Hermione knew
she would've missed the tiny hesitation before speaking, the almost infinitesimal moment of
frozen posture before Ginny put her cup down, shaking her head as she did so, looking down at her
cup. Hermione knew she was lying. Dean put his glass down and put his hand on top of Ginny's
which was still resting on his arm, giving it a comforting squeeze.

`They stopped about a week and a half or so ago - we thought perhaps it was a stress thing
related to the wedding - and that it was the end of it,' said Dean speaking for her, then he
sighed heavily. `Obviously not. Maybe after we're married, after the wedding…' his voice
trailed off.

Hermione looked briefly at Harry, regret in her eyes, then spoke softly, but firmly. `Ginny, I
think we should all go and see Professor Dumbledore about this. I suspect there's a lot more to
this than you or Dean realise.'

Ginny looked at Hermione, who thought she saw a fleeting moment of desperate hope in her
friend's eyes before her eyes seemed to cloud and she looked away, her head jerking once in a
brief nod. Dean looked worriedly from Ginny to Hermione and Harry. `Maybe tonight isn't the
best time -' he began hesitantly.

Hermione saw Ginny's hand clutch convulsively at Dean's arm, although she didn't
look up.

`There couldn't be a better time than tonight, Dean,' she told him gently. Harry also
tried to assure Dean, `You know you can trust Hermione.' Dean nodded in response; taking his
hand off Ginny's and putting it around her shoulders instead, pulling her gently to him, asked,
`Why can't it wait till morning though?'

As gently as she could manage, Hermione said, `I just don't think Ginny should go to sleep
again until we find out more.'

She could see Dean tense at the reminder of what had happened when Ginny had last slept before
he simply nodded in agreement. `Let's go then,' he said in a choked voice. Ginny had
remained unmoving for the duration of this exchange as though their voices weren't reaching
her.

Ron turned up at that moment, knocking loudly on the front door. Despite his fears for his
sister and the gloomy mood he encountered amongst his friends, he wasn't able to stop himself
from looking positively elated. When he told them all why, there was a brief moment of normality
and joy as they all congratulated him.

Ginny seemed to come to herself long enough to hug her brother tightly, tears sparkling in her
eyes. `And I thought I'd have to give you a little helpful nudge to get you to propose to
Luna!' she exclaimed.

Ron pretended to look shocked. `As if I'd need any sort of help!'

While Ginny went and changed, Hermione pulled Dean aside and asked him to bring the rose
necklace he'd mentioned earlier with him but without Ginny knowing. He gave her a puzzled look
but nodded. When Ginny emerged from the bedroom, looking subdued and withdrawn once more, he told
her he wanted to change his top and once in the bedroom, quickly went to Ginny's bedside
drawer. As he pulled it open, his eye was caught immediately by the glint of glass and he picked up
the rose, almost dropping it again in astonishment when he realised it wasn't the necklace. As
he looked over the various pieces of jewellery, hair accessories and bits and bobs in the drawer,
Dean spotted the rose necklace, then stood there, stunned, with both his hands outstretched, a rose
sitting in the palm of each one. They were almost identical - but there were small differences.
*Where the hell had the other one come from?*

Ginny's voice, calling his name, roused him from his reverie and he hastily shoved the
roses, one into each of the front pockets of his jeans. He whipped off his top and threw it on the
bed as he walked around it to the cupboard, pulling it open and grabbing a clean shirt which he
pulled on quickly and started buttoning up.

Ginny's head appeared around the door and he gave her a quick smile. `Coming,' he said,
walking towards her.

They Flooed to Hogwarts, straight to Professor McGonagall's office; while visitors and
others could Floo *out* of the Headmaster's office, only the Headmaster himself could Floo
directly into his office. Hermione had sent Hedwig ahead before they'd even left for Dean's
and so Professor McGonagall was waiting for them, immediately escorting them to the entrance of
Dumbledore's office.

As the door opened to the Headmaster's beautiful circular office, they filed in, but the
usual words of greeting froze on each set of lips.

Draco Malfoy was standing beside Dumbledore's desk, his hands thrust into the pockets of his
expensive black pants, his equally expensive silk robes hooked behind them. His head turned at the
sound of their entry, his grey eyes scanning the group, stopping immediately when they found
Ginny's bright brown gaze. The Professor was sitting in his chair, but stood and smiled at them
all as they entered.

Then something happened that no one had expected or ever thought they would witness.

Ginny broke away from them and ran to Malfoy, throwing her arms around his neck and laying her
head on his chest, sighing his name but so softly that only he could hear her.

Everyone, including Dumbledore and Malfoy himself, was momentarily transfixed. Then Ginny's
head dropped back as she looked up at Malfoy. She made his name a question as she spoke softly,
`Draco?'

Malfoy, his hands still in his pockets, stood staring down at her as though he couldn't
fathom what she was doing there.

Then everyone seemed to move at once. Malfoy pulled his hands out of his pockets and quickly
took hold of Ginny's wrists, pulling her arms down from around his neck, stepping back away
from her, his eyes flicking momentarily to Dean then Harry, fear evident in their grey depths.
Harry was staring at him fixedly, almost as much disgust and hatred in his eyes as there was in
Dean's. Ginny started to struggle against his grasp, apparently wanting to put her arms around
his neck again. Dean almost ran to them and grabbed Ginny around the waist from behind, pulling her
back as though away from some form of horrible contamination.

`Get the hell away from her you bastard!' he hissed at Malfoy, glaring at him over the top
of Ginny's head.

Malfoy put his hands in the air to show he had no intention of trying to touch Ginny, he glared
back at Dean, his voice not much more than a sneer, `I didn't touch her - *she* grabbed
*me*!' *Fucking Thomas! He couldn't believe how much he loathed him. Or how jealous
he was of him. The idiot didn't deserve her!*

Dumbledore had risen to his feet and was walking around his desk, waving his hand to conjure an
armchair for each of them, joining Dean to help lead Ginny to one of the armchairs.

Harry and Hermione were standing on each side of Ron, holding his arms. He'd tried to rush
towards Malfoy, a deep growl coming from his throat at the sight of Ginny flinging her arms around
the man he hated more than any other. For Harry's part, it was only because he had to
concentrate on restraining his friend that prevented him from blasting Malfoy with a vicious curse,
wand or no wand. Even the fact that Malfoy had provided assistance when Hermione had been kidnapped
didn't, in Harry's eyes, elevate him above the level of slime.

Dumbledore looked up at Malfoy.

`I think, Mr Malfoy, it would be best if you left us now,' he said courteously. He was very
aware that the only thing preventing Dean, Harry and Ron from literally tearing Malfoy apart (after
hexing him into the next dimension) was his own presence and their respect for him. Malfoy knew it
too and, giving an abrupt nod, turned on his heel and walked to the door. As he grasped the handle,
he looked back at Dumbledore.

`I'll be visiting with Professor Snape.'

For a moment, his eyes flicked to Ginny who was looking at him with a forlorn expression on her
face, tears in her eyes.

The Headmaster nodded at Malfoy then returned to sit behind his desk as the door clicked
shut.

Resting his elbows on the arms of his chair, he steepled his fingers under his chin and gave
them all a small smile, the trademark twinkle just evident in his blue eyes.

`Quite the most eventful evening I've had in some time,' he commented wryly. `Please,
sit down you three,' he went on, `I think Mr Weasley has himself under control now.'

The professor watched as Harry and Hermione led Ron to sit beside Ginny; Dean was on her right.
Then Hermione sat between Ron and Harry, who took the seat on the end to Hermione's left.

`What the hell was *he* doing here?' rasped Dean, asking the question they all wanted
to know the answer to.

`I'm so sorry, Mr Thomas,' said Dumbledore, his quiet voice full of regret, `that you
were greeted like that. I'll be able to tell you a little later, I think, as to why Mr Malfoy
was here.' His glance fell on Ginny as he spoke; she was sitting, her arms wrapped around
herself, her head down, not looking at anyone.

`Now, Miss Granger,' continued Dumbledore, `in your owl you mentioned some research
you'd done into the Malfoy family that may well concern Miss Weasley. Please share what you
know with everyone here if you'd be so kind.'

Hermione stood up so that everyone could see her, nodding at the professor in acknowledgement as
she did so.

`This actually started the morning I was kidnapped by those two Death Eaters, Jugson and
Mulciber.' She saw Harry noticeably flinch as she spoke of that very traumatic incident in
their lives and held his gaze for a moment before continuing. `Their stated reason for making an
appointment to see me was that they wanted me to research the Malfoys and their connection with
Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Of course, I never actually got around to it at the time and
I've always thought it was just a ploy. Then, a few weeks ago when there was a slight lull in
my workload, their request came back to me. So, I decided to follow it up, although mainly just the
research into the Malfoy family - there's enough of that without getting into their connections
with Death Eaters and so forth. Once I started, I have to say that I was amazed at what could be
found out. I've mainly concentrated on the Malfoys for reasons I imagine are obvious in that I
- well, all of us here - have had first hand contact with them, and for an extended period of time
with at least one of them.'

At that point, the door to Dumbledore's office swung open and Professor McGonagall's
head appeared around the edge of it.

`Sorry to interrupt, Albus,' she said, `but Mr Longbottom is rather frantically trying to
get hold of Mr Potter or Miss Granger and will *not* take “wait” for an answer.' Out of
habit, she sniffed disapprovingly as she finished, perhaps forgetting for a moment that they were
no longer students.

Neville had finally remembered he was supposed to be at Harry and Hermione's but when he
found that they weren't at home and nor were Dean and Ginny, he'd gone to see Ron and it
was Luna who filled him in by repeating what Ron had told her. So he now appeared, walking around
Professor McGonagall and into the room looking a little dishevelled and also rather disconcerted.
Harry and Hermione couldn't help but exchange an amused glance before Harry stood up and
gestured at Neville to come and join them.

`Thank you Minerva!' said Dumbledore graciously, then smiled at Neville. `Good to see you
again, Mr Longbottom,' he said jovially. Professor McGonagall could be heard to sniff again
just before the door closed.

`Yes, well, good to see you again, too, sir, of course and I'm sorry for
interrupting.'

`You're not interrupting Neville,' said Hermione as, at Hermione's direction, he sat
down between Ron and Harry in her empty armchair, the Headmaster conjuring yet another arm chair on
Harry's left for Hermione as some quiet “hellos” were exchanged among the friends.

`Actually,' said Harry, leaning towards Neville, `we're here because of Ginny.'

Neville held up his hand, and looked around at each of them as he spoke. `It's all right,
Luna gave me a brief outline of what's happened so I won't hold you up - just continue on,
please. Hermione?'

Dean looked relieved that he wouldn't have to suffer through another repetition of the
night's events, his eyes, worried and concerned, returning to rest on Ginny's bent
head.

Giving Neville a small smile, Hermione, continued, `I've only just finished telling everyone
what I've been researching and since you know about that I'll just go on from there.'
Hermione's gaze drifted briefly to Harry whose green eyes, filled with love and tenderness,
were looking at her and she knew he could see the regret in her eyes - regret because they
weren't at home, alone, just the two of them, talking and…well, *making up.* Harry raised
one eyebrow while one side of his mouth lifted to indicate a smile as he caught the look in
Hermione's eyes and she quickly looked down, hoping she wouldn't blush. *Of all times and
places to start thinking about that!* she chastised herself.

Clearing her throat, Hermione pulled herself together and took a deep breath before continuing.
`Right,' she said, `I have discovered many things about the Malfoys and their traditions during
my research, but Ginny's problem has highlighted a particular aspect of that research
concerning Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa Black Malfoy.' She took a breath and looked at Dean and
Ginny. Dean was giving her all his attention, Ginny was watching her fingers as they lay in her
lap, twisting and turning incessantly. `I can now say with confidence that it is a fact that Lucius
Malfoy employed certain Dark Arts to ensnare and keep the love of Narcissa Black and those same
Dark Arts are now being used on Ginny.'

Ginny's fingers topped moving. Not a word or sound was uttered by anyone - they simply
looked at Hermione, waiting…

She turned to Dean and held out her hand. `Dean, would you please give me the rose necklace you
told us about?'

Ginny almost shot to her feet on hearing this then just as quickly subsided into her seat,
looking very embarrassed, her gaze once more dropping to her hands as they lay in her lap.
Dumbledore and Hermione exchanged a quick look as Dean stood up and reached into both his
pockets.

`Actually, Hermione,' he said, as he walked towards her, `I found *two* of those
roses.'

As he reached her, he held out both his hands; in his left lay the first rose Malfoy had given
Ginny, in his right lay the necklace.

Hermione and Dumbledore once again exchanged a look before both glanced quickly back to Ginny.
She was now staring transfixed at Dean's hands, her eyes moving to Dumbledore when he rose from
his chair. All eyes were on Dean and the Professor and no one noticed Ginny suddenly sitting up
straight, tension in every line of her body.

*What's wrong with me?* Ginny wondered wildly as she stared at the two tiny glass roses
in Dean's hands. She could hear the voices of others in the room, but they seemed to be coming
from a great distance and they weren't important. *Only Draco was important*. **No
he's not! Why am I thinking that?** *And the roses.* *Dean has my roses. How did he
get my roses***? NO! They're Malfoy's roses, not mine!** *But why is Professor
Dumbledore taking them?* **YES! Give them to Dumbledore, please!** *Draco! Where are
you?* **I don't care! He can go to hell!** *I need you! DRACO!*

Ginny felt as though some terrible pressure was building within her - she felt as though she had
no control over her own thoughts which seemed to be at war inside her head.

`I'll take those, Mr Thomas,' said Dumbledore firmly, holding out his hand. No one was
looking at Ginny.

Dean obediently leant forward and placed the roses in Dumbledore's outstretched hand.
`Professor, what are they?' Dean asked.

`These are the rightful property of Narcissa Malfoy,' he replied solemnly. Ginny screamed as
the roses were placed in Dumbledore's hands.

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

`Are you sure she's all right?' Dean kept repeating a couple of minutes later, his hand
resting tenderly on the side of Ginny's face. Ginny appeared to be asleep; she was curled up on
the magically lengthened armchair with a blanket over her. She had been so distraught and
incoherent when Dean surrendered the roses to Dumbledore that the Headmaster had cast a charm on
her.

Dumbledore nodded. `Yes, I'm sure she's all right, Mr Thomas. It was a very gentle charm
I used, I assure you. She is simply asleep now. I think it's for the best until we finish our
discussion here.'

`She won't have any of those nightmares, will she?' asked Dean, his voice sharp with
concern.

Dumbledore shook his head. `I shouldn't think so now that I have the roses.' The roses
had disappeared into a pocket somewhere inside his voluminous robes. He turned to Hermione with a
smile. `Shall we try again, Miss Granger?'

Hermione stood once more and after giving Dean a look full of sympathy, picked up the threads of
her explanation.

`Those roses that you had, Dean, were actually given to Narcissa Black by Lucius Malfoy and, as
you've no doubt guessed, they were charmed. I knew about the roses from my research - but I had
no idea, of course, that Ginny had any of them in her possession until you told us tonight.'
Dean sat, stunned by this revelation. *Malfoy had given Ginny those roses? When? How? At least he
didn't have to wonder* **why,** he thought bitterly. Ever since Malfoy had admitted under
the effects of Veritaserum that he loved Ginny he'd been a thorn in Dean's side and
obviously had no compunction in using the Dark Arts to get anything he wanted - even something that
didn't belong to him, something that would never otherwise be given freely to him: Ginny's
love. He felt hatred twist and writhe inside himself like some black, hateful snake before
Hermione's voice drew him back to the present. `Anyhow,' she continued, `Lucius gave
Narcissa the first rose shortly after they met. The second he gave her as an engagement present
although she received it before their engagement was announced, and there's a third one, which
he gave her as part of his wedding present to her.'

Dean's hands were clenched into tight fists as he stared intently at Hermione, unblinking,
hanging on every word.

Hermione took another deep breath. It was all very well *reading* about this. It was an
entirely different matter when you were relaying this information to people whose lives were
affected by it, especially people you knew and loved. Looking back at Dean, she continued, `I would
say that Narcissa was attracted to Lucius when she met him and he undoubtedly to her, but he
nevertheless wanted to make sure that he was the only one she would be interested in. The first
rose was charmed using the Evinco Charm to keep her interest and to enthral her so that she
continued to see him and it enabled her feelings for him to grow. The effect of that Charm is that
the person is enthralled and conquered - in this case it's their emotions and heart involved. I
have no doubt that Narcissa had dreams as Ginny did, the difference being that Narcissa was
voluntarily involved with Lucius while Ginny, on the other hand, was fighting any involvement with
Draco and so where Narcissa dreamed, Ginny had nightmares.'

Dean unconsciously nodded in agreement as he listened.

`I don't believe,' continued Hermione, `Narcissa would've remembered the contents of
her dreams with just the first rose in her possession - but I do know from my research that all of
her positive feelings and interest in Lucius were magnified by that first rose. However, the
addition of the second rose to the mix made a rather significant difference, although the roses had
to be together for the maximum effect to be achieved. The second rose carries the Concupisco Charm
and would've magnified Narcissa's desire.

Dean felt as though he'd been hit in the stomach as he realised that Malfoy must've
given Ginny that first rose sometime ago - and she'd never told him! How long had that first
insidious charm been affecting her? Then he also realised he'd been the one to unwittingly put
the roses together tonight - right beside Ginny as she slept - no doubt triggering the dream
she'd had! Despite the turmoil these thoughts caused, he couldn't afford to miss anything
and so he quickly forced his attention back to what Hermione was saying.

`So when he proposed to her, Lucius gave her that second rose. Remember that Narcissa had
feelings for Lucius as it was and the Charms were simply magnifying and cementing them. Her bond
with him would've been strengthened, ensuring she would stay with him, love him and -'
Hermione hesitated, looking at Dean quickly before continuing, `- it would bring to the fore her
desire for him.' Dean's eyes closed as his head snapped back, sucking in air through
clenched teeth. While he had told Harry, Hermione and Ron of Ginny's latest nightmare earlier
that evening, he'd deliberately kept from them his belief that Ginny had been dreaming of
making love to Malfoy although as he'd watched her, he'd known it. That was why he'd
been so sickened and shocked. He knew how she looked when being made love to.

Hermione's voice penetrated the painful thoughts and memories swirling in Dean's head
and he dragged his attention back to her once more.

`When Narcissa gave herself to him, no doubt in dreams at first, many times over so that she was
more than ready for the reality, it would have sealed the bond and that, together with the third
rose, with it's Teneo Charm, would make it impossible for her to love any other man - or make
love to any other man. Ever. This is the Charm of possession and holding and keeping that
possession.'

Dean felt even sicker. `I don't even know when he gave her the first rose!' he cried.
`And what if he'd given her the third one?'

Hermione gazed sadly at Dean. Finding out Ginny had *one* of the Malfoy roses had been a
shock, knowing what she did about them; finding out she had *two* for an unknown period of
time was something that had her extremely worried.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione told him, `Having found out only tonight about Ginny's
possession of the Malfoy roses, I can't be absolutely certain, but undoubtedly the effect of
the Charms on Ginny would be rather different than that experienced by Narcissa. Malfoy's
mother was voluntarily involved with his father - Ginny on the other hand, loves *you* Dean
and not Malfoy, so she's been fighting the effects of the Charms and I think the overall effect
on her has been quite adverse - her nightmares and so on. I'd say she's been able to fight
it to a certain degree as the power of a single rose is a lot less. However, the second rose -'
Hermione hesitated; she would really only be speculating, not having had a chance to speak to
Ginny. She also didn't have the heart to point out to Dean that it was probably sheer luck
Ginny had received the roses in the order they were intended to be given. She had no idea what
would've happened had Draco given her the rose with the Teneo Charm first - but she had no
doubt it would've probably been disastrous. Her gaze went to Harry who gave a small smile and
nod of encouragement.

Hermione unconsciously ran her fingers through her hair, then sighed. `Dean,' she continued,
`I could be wrong - I don't really know how much or in what way Ginny's been affected, not
yet, so this is only guessing on my part - please don't take it to heart.'

Dean nodded. `I understand Hermione - but you know more about those roses than anyone here and
I'd like to hear what you think. I know it might not be right, that's okay - I just need to
know *something, anything*.'

`Well, because we don't know how long since Ginny was given the first rose -'

Dumbledore made a slight noise and sat forward, leaning on his desk. `So sorry to interrupt,
Miss Granger, but I can give you that information.'

All eyes were trained on Dumbledore as he spoke. `Mr Malfoy told me earlier this evening.'
He looked solemnly at Dean. `Apparently, the night he left London, Mr Malfoy paid Miss Weasley a
visit. It was some months ago, now.'

`That, um, I think was probably when you were in Scotland, Dean,' broke in Neville, thinking
back. He'd arranged the Portkey for Malfoy that night.

Dean didn't think he'd be able to absorb any more shocks tonight. Starting with
Ginny's nightmare, then discovering *two* roses that, as it turned out, had come from
Malfoy, to seeing her run to Malfoy just a short while ago… he shook his head; he felt emotionally
battered. And now this. Ginny hadn't told him about Malfoy visiting her while he'd been in
Scotland. But then, if that was when Malfoy gave her the first rose…months ago…the charm had been
*infecting* her from that night…what else had happened that he didn't know about?

Hermione, her heart going out to Dean, said forcefully, `*Ginny loves* *you Dean,*
don't forget that! That's the main reason she's been affected the way she has! The
charm would've been forcing her thoughts to him and no doubt influencing her feelings - but she
was always fighting it on some level! Don't forget *that!*'

Dean stared at her as though he hadn't heard. `What if he'd given her the third
rose?'

No one spoke. Dean looked from Hermione to Dumbledore and back again. `Well?' he
demanded.

Dumbledore spoke first. `I don't believe we should speculate on that, Mr Thomas. We have no
way of knowing, truly, what would have happened.'

`Hermione?' Dean's voice was tense.

Hermione shrugged. `I honestly don't know Dean.' She couldn't meet his gaze. He
continued to stare at her, compelling her to speak again. `But you have thought about it. You have
ideas.'

Hermione sighed. `Dean, we truly don't know, *but -* well, I can't imagine it would
have been anything less than…dangerous. The Teneo Charm it carried, when combined with the
others…' Hermione shook her head. She really didn't want to contemplate Ginny's fate if
Malfoy had given her the third rose.

It became too much for Ron, who sprang to his feet, yelling, `*And that filthy scum Malfoy
gave her those cursed trinkets knowing -* '

`Not so, Mr Weasley,' interrupted Dumbledore, holding his hand up.

`What do you mean?' Ron only just managed to keep from snarling out of respect to the
Headmaster.

`Mr Malfoy didn't know the roses were charmed.'

Dean and Ron made almost identical strangled sounds of disbelief.

`Please, gentlemen, just listen - Mr Weasley, please sit down.'

Ron lowered himself slowly into his chair, Harry leaning over to speak quietly to him,
attempting to calm him.

Before Hermione could sit down, Neville hopped up and moved over to take the end seat so that
she could sit next to Harry. She threw him a grateful smile and then they all turned their
attention to Professor Dumbledore.

As the headmaster began to speak, Hermione felt Harry's arm slide across her shoulders, his
hand gently squeezing her shoulder. She lifted her hand to his in acknowledgement, their fingers
entwining. Despite the current situation, neither could help but be aware of the wonderful tingling
sensation that shot through them with this small act of physical contact and the quick glance they
shared was filled with love and anticipation.

Dumbledore, gazing at Dean, said calmly, `Mr Malfoy came to see me earlier this evening because
he was concerned about Miss Weasley.' The Headmaster ignored the derogatory sound made by Ron
as he continued, `He found out only this morning from his mother about the roses his father gave to
her. He had no doubt, from the information his mother gave him, that they were in some way charmed,
although he didn't know the nature of those charms. He was extremely worried because the loss
of those roses seems to have upset his mother greatly. He'd found them and had given two of
them to Miss Weasley without knowing they could harm her. As soon as he realised that they could do
so, he came to see me.'

Ron made a noise that, translated, probably would've been something like, “bastard!” or
perhaps, “bullshit!”

Dumbledore politely ignored it and turned to look at Dean. `Mr Thomas, we can only hope that
Miss Weasley will make a full recovery. I think it would be best if you were to take her to the
hospital wing tonight and I'll meet you there a little later. You can Floo there. Tell Madame
Pomfrey I will be along soon.' Dean stood and leant down to pick up Ginny, who still appeared
to be sleeping peacefully. He turned and walked to the large fireplace, Neville jumping up to
assist by throwing in the Floo powder for him.

The Headmaster watched as Dean stepped into the green flames and disappeared, desolation in the
lingering echo of his voice as he stated his destination, then he turned back and spoke to the now
saddened gathering of friends.

`I'll be able to return the roses to Mr Malfoy now and tell him we are hoping that Miss
Weasley will be fine. Once he gives the roses back to his mother, I would hope she would begin to
feel much better. Although sadly, I feel she will continue to suffer the pain of estrangement from
her husband who no longer appears to care for her.' What he didn't tell them was that Draco
was coming back to Hogwarts to stay, bringing his mother. She would be safe there and wouldn't
be alone when he left to go after his father as he'd sworn to do. He didn't think it
prudent to share such information with his former pupils on this particular night.

The Professor rose to his feet. `I think we've all had our fill this evening,' he
announced. He turned to Ron. `I imagine you were planning on seeing your parents and telling them
about this?' he inquired. Ron merely nodded. `I thought so,' murmured Dumbledore. `Well,
don't worry, Mr Weasley, I will see them tomorrow and let them know everything. I think perhaps
you should return home and rest. You are, after all, involved in a very important body of work at
the moment: the organisation of The Quidditch World Cup.' The famous twinkle was very evident
as he spoke.

Ron nodded wearily as he stood up, a little ashamed at his relief that he didn't have to be
the one to explain what had happened to his parents and grateful to the Professor for taking on
that burden; it would've been a harrowing experience. They all stood then and Ron hugged
Hermione and Harry, shaking hands with Neville, before turning back to Dumbledore. `Thanks
Professor,' he said quietly. `I have a feeling Ginny will be all right now - thank you. And
especially you, Hermione.' He turned to Hermione and pulled her into another hug. As he pulled
back and smiled down at her, he added, `Our little bookworm has saved the day once again, eh?'
Hermione smiled warmly at him.

`I should think you can all come and visit Miss Weasley from tomorrow afternoon if you'd
like,' the Professor told them. With a wave of acknowledgement, Ron grabbed a handful of Floo
powder and left. Neville also hugged Hermione and then shook Harry's hand. `I don't suppose
we'll need to worry about our little meeting now,' he said wryly, looking from one to the
other.

Putting his arm around Hermione's waist and pulling her close, Harry agreed. `By the
way,' he asked, `where were you tonight?' Neville pushed his hands into his pockets and
suddenly found his shoes to be a fascinating sight, a rather inarticulate noise escaping him by way
of answer.

`A long, leisurely dinner with Priscilla kept you, did it?' asked Harry, unable to help
himself from baiting his friend.

`Harry! Don't be mean!' said Hermione, although she couldn't help but smile.
`Neville, it's all right, we understand. Ignore Harry's teasing.'

Neville shrugged and looked at them, decidedly embarrassed. `Sorry, I just got caught up and
clean forgot.'

`Still in need of a Remembrall, Mr Longbottom?' said Dumbledore, his tone one of
amusement.

Harry and Hermione laughed and Neville, after a slight hesitation, joined them. Taking his hands
from his pockets he held them up in defeat, still laughing. `All right, I'm going now. I'll
probably see you all here in the next day or so when we visit Ginny.'

Harry and Hermione left soon after Neville, although not before Hermione asked when they would
be discussing the Safe Keeping Charm, Dumbledore assuring her it would be very soon.

Not too long after seeing them off, the Headmaster was once again seated at his desk, looking
across it at Draco Malfoy who sat, tension in every line of his body, listening to the
Professor's recount of the evening's events - or at least, what Dumbledore thought he
needed to know. When he'd finished, Malfoy's gaze fell to the two roses lying in the middle
of the desk. Then he looked back up at the old wizard as he said, `I'll take them to her
tonight and I'll be back tomorrow. With my mother.'

`Very well, Mr Malfoy, you may certainly take these now,' he indicated the roses, `I imagine
the sooner they're returned to their rightful owner, the better.'

Draco picked up the roses and stood looking at them as they lay in the palm of his hand.
*Would they help his mother at all? Was it something else that was causing her problem? Once she
was here, at Hogwarts, Dumbledore may be able to help.* A bitter smile creased his features.
*He hadn't told his mother he was bringing her to Hogwarts. He wasn't certain that
she'd agree, despite her current state. She, like her husband and her son, disliked Dumbledore
on principle. It rankled that he and his parents were all indebted, however small the degree, to
Dumbledore, who had never shown discrimination when it came to those allowed entry to Hogwarts for
their education. The old fool. If his father had had his way and he'd gone to Durmstrang, he
wondered how different his life would be…*

Malfoy didn't say another word until he reached the door when he turned back to say in a
tight, hard voice, `Thank you.' Dumbledore nodded in acknowledgement, knowing full well how
hard it was for this man to say such a thing to him and how much he must hate being in the position
of having to do so. It paid to have those who had been (and perhaps may still prove to be) your
enemy, indebted to you.

At the bottom of the moving staircase, the gargoyle once more covered the entrance to the
Headmaster's office. Draco Malfoy fell back against the wall, feeling exhausted. It was bad
enough having the worry of his mother constantly on his mind, but having to face those bloody
cursed wretches - Thomas, Potter, Weasley, Granger and Longbottom - was, he thought, the last
straw…that was until the shock of Ginevra's reaction to him. All because of the roses*. If
he'd only known…*

*His head dropped back against the wall. He hadn't been able to believe it! The look in
her eyes - and then she'd run to him - to* **him***! Because of the roses, but
nevertheless… She'd thrown her arms around his neck - and the way she'd whispered his name!
The soft sound of her speaking his name still seemed to hang in the air…he could still feel the
pressure of her body pressed against his, could still smell the lingering scent she wore…* He
lifted his head and looked down at the two roses lying in the palm of his hand. *If it was anyone
else but his mother that needed these…*

TO BE CONTINUED…

Author's Note

Don't go anywhere without leaving me a fix - oops, I mean a review!

Just a little warning - my next update won't be next Thursday/Friday but it SHOULD be the
Thursday/Friday after that. Next weekend is a totally free one for me and I plan on filling it up
with writing (I'm smiling just thinking about it!). Also, you've been wonderfully patient
about Harry and Hermione - the next chapter opens with them, I promise!

xxxx Janie oooo

-->



6. Four Weddings & A Funeral - Chapter Six
------------------------------------------



Author's Note

*Squeak, squeak* Damn! What IS it with my screen?! It keeps fogging up something dreadful! What?
Oh! Okay, I see…it's just Harry and Hermione…again…*smiles* Enjoy.

And BTW, I want to give credit where credit is due - *sends hugs, kudos and blows trans-Atlantic
kisses to Kirsti* - Kirsti betaed this for me and while she serenely assures me they're just
“comments and concerns” I'm here to tell you it's not so - she betaed this and she did an
absolutely brilliant job! Thanks a million Kirsti!

FOUR WEDDINGS & A FUNERAL

By Lady Jane

Chapter Six


 As they arrived home, coughing a little from a mixture of Floo powder and soot, Harry and Hermione
both straightened as they stepped out of the fireplace, facing each other, a mere couple of feet
apart. Harry felt a foreign trepidation creep into his system. It was a horrible feeling -
wondering if she'd be able to feel the same about him. *Will she learn to trust me again?
Will she love me as much? Will she want me as much?*

In the time since Hermione had left to stay with her parents he'd come face to face once
more with the fact that he couldn't live without her. And now that she was back, he'd do
anything - whatever it took - to ensure she stayed there, with him. Always. Despite the presence
during the last few hours of the closeness and affection that he'd learnt to take for granted,
he felt his heart stop as he held his arms out, low and wide, not confident as he'd always been
previously that she would come to him immediately. He didn't feel he had the right to take the
initiative at this moment - it had to be Hermione's choice. He found he couldn't speak or
even breathe properly as he stood there, waiting. The last ten days had felt like a thousand
lifetimes. And now, at last, they were alone. He was in too much turmoil to read what was in her
eyes, turmoil that showed in his green gaze as it rested on the woman he loved.


 She took one step forward and he felt his heart begin to beat again. He waited what felt like
another eternity until she took another step forward which brought her body into contact with his
and the instant it did, his arms closed around her and he knew he couldn't be held responsible
for his actions, especially when she lifted her head as her arms wrapped around his waist and she
whispered, 'Kiss me, Harry, please ... it feels like such a long time since you really kissed
me...'


 As his lips covered hers he could feel the memory of every wonderful moment from their past wash
over him - the soft pliancy of her body as it moulded itself to him, the indescribable sweetness of
her mouth - her warmth, her smell - he groaned into her mouth uncontrollably - he would do anything
at this moment - anything - to ensure she would always be with him…


 'Harry?' 

 He felt bereft as she pulled her lips away from his. He couldn't speak - he simply looked at
her and waited...


 'I love you.'


 His eyes closed involuntarily for a second. 

'Hermione...' it was all he could manage, feeling overwhelmed by the strength of his
emotions. He took a deep breath as he opened his eyes and looked into hers. `After what I did,
right now I don't feel as though I deserve your love, but -'

He couldn't finish because Hermione pressed her lips ever-so-gently against his, not in a
kiss, but just to stop him speaking. `Sssh, it's very late, it's been a traumatic
night,' she said against his mouth, `we can talk in the morning. Let's just go to
b-'


 Hermione couldn't finish speaking either as Harry's mouth suddenly closed over hers in a
kiss that not only conveyed the extent of his relief at her being there, in his arms, loving him
and wanting him, it quickly became so passionate that she felt giddy from the sensations tearing
through her and they increased as one of his hands ran slowly up the curve of her back, around her
shoulder and then to the side of her neck, his strong, warm fingers curling around her neck, his
thumb resting just in front of her ear, gently moving back and forth, his other hand moving across
her back at her waist and pulling her even more tightly against him. Their lips parted slightly and
they were both breathless. Harry's voice was a hoarse whisper.

`Hermione, I will never do such a thing ever ag-' Hermione gave him a quick kiss to stop him
talking then looked up at him. `I know you won't and we will talk ourselves stupid about this
tomorrow but right now please just take me to bed!' 

 Even if she hadn't spoken, the look in her eyes was enough and Harry's heart soared. There
was no denying the desire and love that filled her beautiful, dark honey-coloured eyes as they
looked straight into his. He couldn't be more aware of the tiny, instinctive movements of her
hips against his now rock hard erection and he knew he wouldn't - couldn't - make it as far
as their bed. He took a few unsteady steps backwards until he came up against the couch and then
turned them both around, Hermione automatically sitting down when he leant forward slightly. He
then knelt down in front of her and gently framed her face with his hands. Wrapping her hands
around his wrists, Hermione closed her eyes as Harry's lips moved lovingly over her forehead
and then her cheeks, finally lingering at each corner of her mouth. The warm, soft feeling of his
lips on her skin was magical and as Hermione's eyes slowly opened it was to see Harry's
wonderful green eyes gazing at her, the look in them turning every bone in her body to jelly,
making her heart beat faster. Her lips parted in anticipation and a tiny gasp escaped her as that
desire - that *need* - she had for him overcame her, becoming the only thing that mattered.
She slowly lifted her hands and took off his glasses, gently tossing them aside, loving the feel of
his quickening breath against her lips as his hands slipped down to rest on her shoulders.

She brought her hands up to his face, the fingers of one caressing the side of his neck, the
other exploring the oh-so-familiar lines of his face, travelling gently over the slight coarseness
already present along his jaw, tenderly tracing the dark smudge under his eye before she dropped
them to his mouth. One finger outlined the shape of his lips and as it did, she once again looked
into his eyes and for just a second she froze - no one had *ever* looked at her like
*that* before*. Not even this man.* So much love. Tenderness. Concern. Anxiety. Fear.
Hope. Desire. *Lust.* It was all there. And more. She breathed his name. It was barely audible
but he heard her and that soft sound, filled as it was with a need and desire to equal his own, was
all that was necessary to galvanise him into action.

His hands, resting on her shoulders, tightened their grip to pull her to her feet with him as he
stood. Once upright, he clamped one arm around her waist to keep her against him, his other hand
becoming entangled in her brown curls at the back of her head while he kissed her, unaware of the
effect he was having on her - that the way he was kissing her was literally making her knees feel
weak.

While Hermione felt as though she was drowning in the sensations coursing through her, Harry was
immersed in myriad emotions and a sharp physical awareness of the woman in his arms. She was the
source of his emotional strength and the only woman who made him feel such immeasurable desire,
lust and tenderness all at once - she embodied all his emotional and physical needs. He knew he
held his life in his arms.

As they pulled back to allow a small space between their lips, both breathing heavily, all Harry
could manage to say was her name.

`Hermione…'

Hermione knew what was important at that moment. Pulling herself out of Harry's arms, she
moved back a little and reached down to grasp the hem of her top and pull it over her head. Then
she undid her jeans and pushed them down over her hips and knees, pushing them off the rest of the
way with her feet and kicking her shoes off at the same time.

Harry couldn't help but stare down the length of her lovely body - the contrast of her
milky, glowing skin against the black, lacy bra and matching French knickers she wore, not knowing
which was more hypnotising - the enticing swell of her breasts or the mesmerising line of her
stomach and hip bones that lead his eyes to that part of her he'd become so familiar with, now
tantalisingly out of sight. He lifted his eyes to her face once more, seeing a small mysterious
smile there - her eyes glowing. Hermione felt a little delirious. *Delirious with desire,* she
thought. *He has no idea what he does to me.*

Harry reached down to lift her hands, kissing the fingers of each in turn.

Hermione's eyes closed - then she felt her hair cascading down her back as she let her head
tip backwards a little, exposing the soft skin of her throat which Harry immediately responded to
by leaving a trail of quick, burning kisses down the side of her neck, his hands running through
her hair and then down her back, coming to rest low on her hips and pulling her against him. A soft
moan escaped him at the fire that seemed to spread through his body as he pressed Hermione's
firm, flat stomach against his now achingly hard erection.

Hermione once again let go of Harry, stepping back slightly as she reached around to undo her
bra, dropping it at arm's length. As Harry's eyes were drawn irresistibly to Hermione's
firm, white breasts, she bent over and pushed her knickers down to her ankles, then stepped out of
them and kicked them aside.

Harry couldn't have said word right then if his life depended on it.

Not so Hermione. She reached forward and linked her hands behind his neck and smiled, her eyes
half closed.

`Harry, you still have all your clothes on.'

This sentence penetrated, word by word, into Harry's brain and once it was processed and
understood he nodded.

`You have to take them off.'

Harry nodded again. *She was right*, he thought dimly.

`Now, Harry, before I'm forced to tear them off you.' Her voice was breathless and
slightly husky.

The effect on Harry of the mental image this conjured actually caused him to almost tear off his
own clothes. In less than a minute they were both naked, entwined in an increasingly frenzied
embrace as they kissed passionately.

`Now - Harry - please -' gasped Hermione between kisses. Harry responded to the longing in
her voice, helping her to lie down on the couch and kneeling above her so that her legs were
between his as he rested on his heels. Reaching forward with his arms, he let his fingers trail
from Hermione's shoulders, over the swell of her breasts and then down her stomach, Hermione
moaning softly at his touch, no longer in control of her body which clung to the movement of
Harry's fingers, not wanting to lose contact. Harry then deftly lifted his knees and sat back,
at the same time drawing her legs up so that she could wrap them around him and he was now kneeling
between them, his gaze fixed on that part of her that was aching for him. She knew immediately what
he intended and moaned softly. `No, Harry - please - I just want you inside me - it seems so long
-'

He leant forward on straight arms, bringing his head directly above hers as he looked down into
her eyes. `For you, anything,' he whispered and with a small smile, lowered himself, stretching
out his legs, so that he was lying on top of her, her lower legs curling around his; with his
weight on his elbows , he was able to support her head in his hands. Hermione wrapped her arms
around his back, running her hands along the lines of the taut muscles there, drinking in the
feeling. As he looked into her eyes she whispered again. `Harry, please - now! I need you inside me
now! It's been so long I can't wait!'


 `God, Hermione - you have no idea what you do to me…' His voice was deep and hoarse, sending
shivers throughout her body.


 `Show me, Harry, show me…' she cried, pushing her hips up against the delicious weight of him,
moaning longingly at the hardness they found, squirming in invitation against it. 

He couldn't speak, so he kissed her, his tongue thrusting into her mouth as he thrust his
now throbbing erection into her tight, wet, warmth, a groan torn from him at the feeling of sinking
into her. He lifted his head and looked down at her, his desire increasing at the sight of her, her
head, now thrown back, turning slowly from side to side - her eyes closed, her bottom lip caught
between her teeth. Then she cried out his name as her orgasm engulfed her, her back arching, her
body tensing with unbearable pleasure. Then he saw no more, his own eyes closing as he felt wave
after wave of indescribable ecstasy crash through him and it was his turn to cry out her name.


 Rolling onto his side as a delicious exhaustion overcame him, Harry cradled her in his arms;
neither was able to speak for a minute, simply looking at each other and grinning foolishly.

When his breathing was almost normal once more, Harry simply said, `I love you,' as he
pressed his lips against her forehead.

Hermione sighed contentedly and snuggled in even closer. `I know,' she whispered back, `I
know.' 

'You know everything,' he murmured.

`Only that I love you too,' she said softly.

Harry used a Summoning Charm on the throwover rug lying on the floor at the end of the couch so
that it rose up and gently spread itself over them. And that's where they slept, Hermione
having turned so that her back was against Harry's chest, curled up against him with his arms
around her, holding her close, his face half buried in her hair, both smiling contentedly. Neither
had slept so well since they were last together.

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

Ginny barely stirred as Dean leant over and gently kissed her forehead. Then he straightened and
looked down at her, the light from the bedside lamp illuminating her sleeping countenance. She
looked peaceful. He hoped to God she was - finally, now that she was free of the influence of those
accursed roses.

Madam Pomfrey had put another bed beside Ginny's so that he could stay there the night with
her and be close at hand should she wake. Dean had given her very brief details and told her
Dumbledore would be along later to speak to her - he felt too exhausted to explain everything
himself. As always, the dedicated School Nurse asked no questions, stating she recognised the charm
Dumbledore had used and told Dean it should ensure a peaceful night's sleep for Ginny and that
he should get some sleep himself.

He had nodded in agreement but after she left, he instead found himself sitting beside
Ginny's bed in an overstuffed armchair, watching her sleep, realising that he couldn't yet
believe she was free of the curses and the nightmares they'd caused.


 *Malfoy.*


 The name alone brought a sharp, bitter, aching hatred to his heart. And a dreadful, raging
jealousy. His eyes closed, his fine, dark features tensing as he once again replayed the scene from
Dumbledore's office in his mind… Ginny running to Malfoy - throwing her arms around him - even
resisting Malfoy's attempts to escape her embrace! He felt nauseous. He knew it was purely the
influence of the roses but it didn't make that scene, now irrevocably stamped into his memory,
any easier to witness. And if he **never** saw that damned freak Malfoy ever again it would be
too soon!

Knowing he had to get some sleep and not wanting to dwell on Malfoy, he abruptly rose and walked
around to the other bed, slipping under the covers without bothering to undress - if for any reason
he had to get up in the middle of the night, the last thing he wanted to worry about was getting
dressed.

He slid over to the extreme edge of the bed closest to Ginny and reached over so that he could
rest his hand on hers. He wasn't looking forward to finding out exactly what had gone on
between her and Malfoy, in dreams or reality - but he had to know the truth. He wouldn't hold
her responsible - he couldn't. He just hoped she trusted him enough to tell him what she
remembered. Then perhaps they could both forget about him and get on with their lives…

In contrast to the deep, healing slumber Ginny experienced, Dean had a very restless night.

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

Later that night, after Dean had finally fallen asleep, Dumbledore arrived and spoke to Madam
Pomfrey, fully explaining the situation to her about what had befallen Ginny.

`Not something that can be fixed in a heartbeat, unfortunately,' she said quietly to the
Headmaster.

`I was afraid that would be the case,' he answered, his concerned gaze turning to rest on
the sleeping figures. They were lying, facing each other, Ginny's hands in front of her and
Dean's hand resting on top of them. `Call me immediately if Miss Weasley wakes during the
night, Poppy, although I don't expect her to.' After giving her instructions for the
morning, the Headmaster returned to his office.

Once there, he paced slowly, his hands clasped behind his back. As he walked, he went over
various situations in his mind that were causing him concern, occasionally stopping as he passed
the fireplace to stare into the flames. The occupants of the various portraits in his office
recognised his “thoughtful” stage and remained respectfully silent, most taking the opportunity to
have a nap as usually, once the current Headmaster of Hogwarts decided it was time to talk, there
was little rest for the wicked.

He was concerned about Ginny, but was confident she would eventually recover - especially taking
into consideration the love and support she was receiving firstly from her fiancé and of course
from her family and friends.

Even Narcissa Malfoy and her health were now no longer a major concern; tomorrow she would be
here, at Hogwarts, once more reunited with the roses her son had unwittingly taken from her and
passed on to the woman he himself loved. Dumbledore suspected that the absence of those roses
played a large part in causing Narcissa's malady. Her son was a concern though; the old wizard
didn't think it wise for him to go after his father regardless of his motive, especially since
he'd had disturbing reports recently about Lucius Malfoy attempting to emulate the late Lord
Voldemort, using the Dark Arts to arm himself and prolong his life. Other than that, he'd had
no reports of Lucius Malfoy being involved in anything else which Dumbledore didn't for one
minute believe. A man like Lucius Malfoy would always be up to something. He just wished he knew
what that something was.

He came at last to his gravest concern which lay in wondering whether the Cautus Contego Charm
he and Harry had devised to protect Hermione had somehow been altered by the circumstances in which
it had been activated - circumstances that had never been taken into consideration at the time he
and Harry had created it. Of equal concern was the reason the Charm had been activated that night.
By whom? One thing he was certain of was that it would only have been activated because Hermione
was in danger - that was no false alarm.

He sighed. This would all have to come out when Harry and Hermione came to see him to discuss
the “Safekeeping Charm” as they thought of it. He'd owl them tomorrow morning and arrange to
see them as soon as possible. Perhaps tomorrow night. He planned on leaving early in the morning
for the Burrow to speak to Molly and Arthur who would undoubtedly return to Hogwarts with him to
see their daughter. Another thought came to him and he made a decision to endeavour to have all
those involved come to Hogwarts tomorrow night. He needed to speak to all of them.

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

Dean woke before sunrise, pleased to see Ginny still sleeping peacefully. He went in search of
Madam Pomfrey to confirm that she hadn't stirred during the night.

`Indeed she did not, Mr Thomas, I'm pleased to say,' the School Nurse told him.
`Professor Dumbledore came to check on you both last night and instructed me to ask you to remain
here at Hogwarts until he's able to speak to you.'

Dean nodded, a lopsided smile in place. *As if I'd leave Ginny,* he thought to
himself.

`Also,' continued Madam Pomfrey, `he wanted me to tell you that when he placed the charm on
Miss Weasley last night, he included a temporary state of memory loss so that she wouldn't be
too distressed on waking. The Professor will be here shortly after sunrise to speak to you Mr
Thomas.'

Dean nodded once more in acknowledgement and returned to Ginny's bedside, watching her sleep
as the rising sun gradually pushed back the darkness.

Ginny slept through the Headmaster's visit, during which he himself asked Dean to remain at
Hogwarts as he was hoping to gather everyone together for a meeting that night. Dean assured him he
had no intentions of going anywhere, except perhaps the Owlery to send a letter to his parents.

`By the way, Mr Thomas, Miss Weasley won't remember very much when she first wakes, but it
will come back to her reasonably quickly. Just talk her through it. You'll need to stay with
her, naturally. Madam Pomfrey knows what to do if Miss Weasley becomes too unsettled.'

Shortly after Dumbledore left, Ginny woke, yawning and stretching before spotting Dean sitting
beside her bed in the armchair and giving him a radiant smile. Dean immediately went to sit beside
her on the bed, pulling her up into his arms. Ginny threw her arms around his neck.

`Good morning!' she said happily.

`Good morning, beautiful,' he replied, his heart feeling lighter than it had for some time -
*th**is* was his Ginny.

Ginny leant back then, her smile faltering as she looked around. `Why am I in the Hospital Wing
at Hogwarts?' she asked, her voice incredulous.

Dean sighed, taking her hands in his.

`Do you remember coming to Hogwarts last night? To see Professor Dumbledore?' he asked
gently.

Ginny frowned, then shook her head. `I don't think so…'

`Do you remember going to bed early last night before we woke you up to come to
Hogwarts?'

Ginny was frowning in concentration, her gaze on their clasped hands. `Weren't Harry and
Hermione there?'

Dean nodded as she looked up at him.

Ginny bit her lip, deep in thought. `And Ron, too?' she murmured. Then she smiled again. `He
and Luna are engaged!'

`Yep! I think engagements are becoming contagious lately.' Ginny gave a little laugh before
once more lapsing into thought.

`And Neville? Neville was there?'

`Neville too. That's everyone.'

Suddenly her whole body stiffened and she pulled her hands from Dean's grasp, clenching her
fists as she put them on Dean's chest.

`*Malfoy!*' She almost spat the name out, sounding to Dean remarkably like Ron the
previous evening.

Ginny's bright brown gaze met his, her eyes filled with anger at the memory of Malfoy.

`Malfoy did something, didn't he?' She didn't wait for an answer. `I remember that
he was there too.' Dean stood up as Ginny moved to get out of bed. As her feet touched the
floor, she straightened and looked down at herself and on seeing only her bra and knickers she
looked back up at Dean. `Who undressed me?' she asked, momentarily distracted from recalling
the events of the previous evening.

Leaning over and picking up a spare robe off the end of the bed that Madam Pomfrey had supplied,
Dean pulled it around her shoulders and smiled as he drew her to him. `I did,' he told her.

Ginny slipped her arms around his waist and laid her head on his chest. `That's
good.'

They stood there like that for some minutes. Dean knew she was recalling the events of the night
before; he could feel the tension in her body as he held her in his arms.

`Dean?' In just that one word was contained horror and humiliation, both of which were
mirrored in her eyes as she looked up at him. His heart ached for her.

`Malfoy - I - oh sweet mother of Merlin! I actually ran to him!' She stepped away from Dean
then, wrapping her arms around herself, unable to look at him, her face pale.

Dean grasped her upper arms, bringing her back to him. `If you remember that, you'll
remember it was only because of those bloody roses he gave you!'

Ginny crumpled against him and he put his arms around her once more, resting his cheek on the
top of her head. He could feel her beginning to cry. *It was going to be a long day.*

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

Harry woke first, immediately aware of Hermione still curled up against him, just as she'd
been when they'd fallen asleep the night before. *She was home. She was with him. She was
here.* Almost unbearable joy swept through him and he unconsciously tightened his arms around
her, causing Hermione to stir in her sleep. Loosening his grip, Harry ran his hand along her side,
up over her shoulder, then gently moved her hair aside so that he could place a soft, loving kiss
her on the side of her neck. He felt the pressure of Hermione's shoulder as she reacted to his
kiss, murmuring his name although she was still half asleep. He continued to kiss her, then propped
himself up on his elbow so that he could continue the trail of kisses across to her shoulder, his
hand letting go of her hair and sliding down under her arm and around to cup her breast. He was
already achingly hard, but he wanted to savour every moment, every little sound and sensation.

Her eyes still closed, Hermione smiled as she came to the realisation that Harry was right
there, with her. She could feel him move aside a little so that she was able to roll over onto her
back. She looked up at him, her eyes still cloudy with sleep, a sweet smile on her lips. He kissed
her lightly and whispered, `I love you.'

He felt her hand on his shoulder before it moved up to rest tenderly on the side of his
face.

`I love you too,' she whispered back. `And it's so good to be home.'

Hermione then rolled on her side to face him, pressing the full length of her body against him.
Harry wrapped his arm around her waist and held her there while he kissed her. Hermione then slid
her leg up and over Harry's, using it to pull herself against him and making slow, small
circular motions with her hips, moaning softly from the pleasurable feelings caused by rubbing
herself against his hard erection. Harry decided he'd had enough of savouring moments and
sensations - and manoeuvred himself onto his back with Hermione lying on top, her legs each side of
him. Hermione quickly pulled her knees forward and sat back on Harry's legs, lifting her hands
to push her hair away from her face, her eyes fixed on his. Harry lost no time in sliding his hands
up to Hermione's breasts, kneading them gently. `You are so beautiful,' he whispered
gruffly. Suddenly, Hermione let out a little scream as an owl flew out of the chimney, coming to
land on the floor beside the couch, looking expectantly up at them.

Harry groaned. Hermione giggled.

`Better an owl than someone Flooing us!' she told Harry merrily as she leant down and took
the rolled parchment from the owl's pouch. `I'm sorry, I haven't got anything to give
you,' she told it regretfully, after which it gave a slightly dismal hoot and flew back up the
chimney.

`Hermione -' began Harry, intending to voice his opinion of this untimely interruption,
wanting to get back to what they were doing immediately - *needing* to get back to it!

But Hermione had unrolled the parchment and he could see her eyes scanning it. Harry squirmed
impatiently, Hermione appearing to ignore the movement as she spoke. *Of all times for Hermione
to succumb to her inherent need to read!*

`It's from Dumbledore. He wants us at Hogwarts this evening for a meeting of some sort.'
She paused, reading further. `He says to owl him if we can't make it but asks that we make
every effort to be there tonight.'

`Hermione -' groaned Harry, but he was interrupted by Hermione leaning down and kissing him.
Then she lifted her head slightly as she tossed the parchment aside, all the while making sure her
hardened nipples were brushing against his chest, her voice low and husky. `Now, where were we? I
think we have a little unfinished business here…'

TO BE CONTINUED…

Authors' Note

There you go! ::happy sigh:: Some lovely, loving fluff and no cliffie! (A little shorter than
earlier chapters I know - hope you don't mind!)

I should be able to upload Chapter Seven within a week if all goes to plan…fingers crossed.

xxxx Janie xxxx

-->



7. Four Weddings & A Funeral - Chapter Six-and-a-Half
-----------------------------------------------------



Chapter Six-and-a-Half

aka

Author's Note

Damn. I didn't realise uploading Chapter Six AS Chapter Six meant it would actually wipe out
my Author's Note (no great loss) previously in the Chapter Six spot - nor did I realise it
wouldn't be put at the “top” of the New/Updated list! So here I am doing another Author's
Note and coming to terms with the fact that from now on Chapter Seven will have to appear as
Chapter Eight, etc, etc, etc. You live and learn.

So saying, once you've devoured this pity little note you'll need to click back to read
the latest chapter.

xxxx Janie xxxx

-->



8. Four Weddings & A Funeral - Chapter Eight
--------------------------------------------



Author's Note

Hi all! Well, here's Chapter Seven but I have to say I'm in the middle of a huge
quandary at the moment: do I just wind this fic up (because I'd dearly love to finish it before
HBP) even though this means leaving out quite a lot of the ideas that have been living in my head
OR do I just continue on, ignoring whatever occurs in HBP and writing it as I originally intended
to? I'm just concerned it won't be the same post-HBP. What do you think?

In the meantime, read and enjoy (and review!) and once again, many, many, thanks to my wonderful
friend (and beta!) Kirsti for using her eagle eye and giving this her invaluable once over! Janie
xxxxx

FOUR WEDDINGS & A FUNERAL

By Lady Jane

Chapter Seven

By lunchtime of that day, Professor Dumbledore was once more in his office at Hogwarts, having
returned from the Burrow with Molly and Arthur Weasley (as he'd known he would) who'd gone
straight to the Hospital Wing to see their daughter.

Professor Snape had been awaiting his return to advise him that Draco Malfoy had also arrived
earlier with his mother and was assisting her to settle into her new home - a small suite of rooms
near those of Professor Snape's own. He went on to tell the Headmaster that Narcissa Malfoy
seemed to have accepted the move to Hogwarts without complaint or question.

`Malfoy,' the Potions Master continued, `did say that his mother was probably happy to come
here due mainly to her “happy preoccupation” as he put it, with the return of her *roses*. I
assume you know to what he's referring, Headmaster,' he said, the look on his face making
it very plain that he disapproved of being kept in the dark. `I also believe that the Weasley's
daughter has taken up residence in the Hospital Wing,' he added, with a sharp sniff of
distaste.

`I'm sorry, Severus, I haven't really had adequate time to explain the current situation
to you. Please, sit down,' replied Dumbledore politely who, before sitting himself, walked to
the perch on which sat his magnificent phoenix, Fawkes, stroking the beautiful bird and speaking to
it in quiet undertones.

With the sour look on his face lessening just a little, but only a little, the Head of Slytherin
sat down and listened intently while his Headmaster told him briefly what had occurred to bring
about the current situation. Dumbledore finished by commenting that Mrs Malfoy might not remain in
her current state and that once she recovered from her initial joy at having her possessions
returned to her, it was possible she would return to her previous state or something close to it.
He then asked Snape to assure Malfoy that everything possible would be done to help his mother
should this occur.

As his Potions Master left his office, Dumbledore turned his attention to the neatly arrayed
parchments on his desk. One each from Harry and Hermione, Ron and Luna and Neville, assuring him
they would be at Hogwarts that evening as requested. Dean and Ginny and Molly and Arthur had
already given their verbal assurances. *Good,* he thought, *we'll be able to discuss a
few important issues tonight.* He turned to look around at the portraits in his office, the
occupants of which were gazing patiently back at him. With a small smile, he stood up and began to
walk around the room. `There is something I need to know, something I have to find out,' he
told them, `something I need you all to work on for me…'

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

While the Headmaster conferred with the occupants of the paintings in his office, Molly and
Arthur Weasley were sitting beside their daughter's bed, listening to a detailed recitation of
the events that had led to her being there. Throughout this, Dean was seated beside Ginny on the
bed, holding her hand, doing most of the talking while still encouraging Ginny to speak as often as
he could. His presence seemed to help her immensely.

Dean had spent most of the early hours of the morning before the arrival of her parents
reassuring Ginny that he loved her and did not hold her in any way responsible for her actions
while under the influence of the Malfoy roses. Ginny knew he was telling her the truth but it
didn't seem to lessen the guilt she felt.

`Ginny, the feeling of guilt will go as you realise that you aren't responsible for the
things that happened!'

Ginny shook her head but Dean was so unrelenting that she eventually gave in, unable to argue
against him in the face of his determination and love. She tucked the guilt away in a corner of her
heart, hoping it would dissipate over time.

They were lying on top of her bed, arms around each other, both feeling exhausted. Ginny's
voice trembled as she spoke. `Dean, I don't feel I deserve you - your love, your forgiveness,
your acceptance -'

`Sssh,' said Dean softly. `You deserve everything I can give you.'

Ginny felt tears come to her eyes. `I love you, so very, very much,' she whispered. `I
can't wait to be married to you.'

During their discussions that morning, they'd decided to go ahead with their wedding as
planned. Dean had told Ginny it was entirely up to her - that they could postpone it until she felt
better able to cope, but Ginny was adamant she would be fine and insisted on sticking to their
original plans.

Dean had left when he and Ginny had finished filling her parents in; he knew they'd want
some time alone with their daughter.

He was wandering through the castle, drawing curious glances from the few students that either
hadn't gone outdoors to enjoy the beautiful weather or had perhaps gone to the library; it felt
rather strange to be wandering around Hogwarts once more. As he turned the corner into a deserted
corridor, he froze in his tracks as Draco Malfoy appeared at the opposite end.

Dean's hands immediately clenched into fists and he felt every muscle in his body tense.
Malfoy was walking towards him with his hands in his pockets, head down, and didn't see him
straight away. Halfway along the corridor, Malfoy slowly looked up, stopping in his tracks at the
sight of Dean. The two men stood and stared at each other for endless seconds, then Malfoy turned
and walked back the way he'd come.

Fury burst from Dean. Whilst he had all the patience in the world for his deeply-loved fiancée,
anything to do with this wizard tapped hidden depths of disgust and hatred within him, his voice
holding all this and more as it reverberated from the stone walls. `**Malfoy you filthy bastard!
If I ever find out you've so much as looked at my fiancée again I will kill you!'**

Malfoy's steps faltered, but he didn't turn around, hesitating only briefly before he
continued walking away.

Dean took a step forward, then forced himself to stop although he wanted more than anything to
physically attack the tall, blonde wizard striding away from him. He'd never known such a
feeling in his life and so it was no wonder it took him a minute to recognise it for what it was:
*the* *desire to kill*.

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

Malfoy returned to his mother's rooms feeling rattled by the encounter with Dean Thomas. He
resolved in future to take whatever steps were necessary to avoid such contact in the future.
Thomas had wanted to kill him - he could see it in his eyes, even from that distance. And as driven
as he was, he'd no doubt been perfectly capable of doing so in that moment.

`Draco! You're back!' His mother's voice drifted happily from the small kitchen and
he walked towards the sound.

Malfoy felt the familiar sadness overtake him as he stopped in the doorway. His mother was
happier but nevertheless, still not herself. He wondered if she would ever truly be herself again.
He had hopes that Dumbledore would be able to get to the bottom of her malady, especially now she
had her roses back.

As he sat and listed to his mother's prattle, he became aware of thoughts that had been
simmering below the surface for some time now, thoughts he'd refused to acknowledge due to
their nature; however, such things can't be pushed aside forever.

And so, as Draco Malfoy sat there in that small kitchen with his mother's voice washing over
him, he realised that he was probably doomed to love Ginevra Weasley until he died and that there
was no hope, ever, of her feeling anything for him now except hatred. His father, too, hated him
and wanted him dead. He glanced at his mother who was busy making something at the kitchen sink,
although he wasn't sure what; *she* loved him. But she wasn't the mother he'd
always known - she'd been *altered* by various events and circumstances, the least of
which was his father. And he wasn't even sure how much longer she would survive. And here he
was, taking refuge at Hogwarts of all places…As he contemplated all this, it came to him in that
moment that perhaps it would have been better, and easier, if he'd turned around in that
corridor and let Thomas do his worst…

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

Harry and Hermione were sitting at their small, round kitchen table, enjoying a wonderful meal
of something they rarely ate: take away pizza.

After completing their “unfinished business” that morning they'd taken a lovingly leisurely
shower, sent Hedwig off to Hogwarts with a note telling Dumbledore they would be there that evening
and feeling ravenous, had rung and ordered pizza from the nearby Pizza Parlour.

Once their hunger was sated, Harry stood and held out his hand to Hermione, his expression now
serious.

`Let's go talk,' he said quietly.

Putting her hand in his, Hermione nodded as she stood and they walked, hand in hand, to the
lounge room. Hermione sat on the couch but Harry chose to stand, his back to the fireplace, his
hands pushed into his jeans pockets.

Hermione looked at Harry, standing there, his eternally messy fringe hanging in front of his
face as he looked down at his feet. He looked so vulnerable and adorable and just plain bloody
*sexy* she wondered if she'd be able to keep her mind on what he said.

Harry took a quick look at Hermione sitting on the sofa and wanted nothing more than to go and
sit beside her, pull her into his arms and tell her he loved her. Before kissing her. A lot. As his
gaze strayed to her soft lips, he saw them move…

`Tell me, Harry,' she said.

So he did.

He told her how the idea for a charm to keep her safe had first come to him after she'd been
kidnapped, springing from his distress and devastation at losing her. He'd known from the first
that Dumbledore would have to be involved. He took her back to the night they'd returned home
after he'd rescued her from the two Death Eaters, Jugson and Mulciber…

*//(The italics in the following paragraphs are edited excerpts from Chapter 15 of “Day by
Day”)//*

*//Hermione turned in his arms to face him, her arms sliding around his neck, then kissed him.
As their lips parted, Harry said, `You better run along and have your shower before I ravish you
and I'll go and see what I can come up with for dinner at such short notice. I'm rather
hungry too, now.'//*

`Remember how you went and had a shower while I made us something to eat?' Harry asked.

Hermione nodded. `And I remember you hadn't eaten…'

*//Hermione gave him an appraising look. `What have you eaten since - well, yesterday
morning?' she asked him.*

*He looked at her thoughtfully. `Actually, nothing, now I come to think of it.'*

*Sadness filled Hermione's eyes as she looked at him. `Oh, Harry - I had to try not to
think of what you were going through because it was just too awful - there was no way I could let
you know I was all right; I felt so powerless!'//*

Hermione's eyes glistened with unshed tears as she looked up at Harry. `I remember that
awful feeling I had because I couldn't let you know I was alive and not hurt - I knew you'd
be worried - and I was powerless to do anything!'

Harry's eyes closed briefly, Hermione's heart aching at the pain she saw in them.

`I'll never forget what that was like … wondering if you were dead ...'

*//`I don't ever want to go through anything like that again,' Harry said quietly. `I
couldn't bear it if anything happened to you. This has all been far worse than the night Sirius
died when I thought you were dead too.'//*

`I think perhaps that's when the seed was planted,” Harry continued. `While I made our
dinner, I began to think of ways I could protect you - ways I could get to you, help you, anytime
and anywhere.'

`I can see why, Harry. I remember thinking about how I probably wouldn't cope if anything
happened to you.'

*//She pressed closer against him, bringing her hand up to cover his, squeezing it gently. `I
feel the same Harry - I can't bear to even contemplate what I would do if anything happened to
you.'//*

`I don't worry about me,' said Harry, giving her a wry smile. `No Voldemort after me any
longer.'

*//`Nothing's going to happen to me, not anymore,' he told her before kissing her
again.*

*Then Hermione smiled and said, `And I promise not to go and get myself kidnapped
again!'//*

`And do you remember telling me - promising me - that you wouldn't get yourself kidnapped
again?' Harry asked.

Hermione nodded. `But just because Voldemort's gone Harry, doesn't mean there aren't
wizards out there who wouldn't take any opportunity offered to hurt you - or kill you. The only
thing that stops them is the fact that none of them would stand a chance against you and they know
it.'

Harry's eyes locked onto hers. `Exactly. But I'm still vulnerable Hermione. There's
nothing stopping them using my friends to get at me, the people I love, the woman I love -
*especially* the woman I love. You mean more to me than anyone in the world. They know I'd
do anything to keep you safe. So they *do* stand a chance against me, my love. And they know
it.'

The intensity of Harry's gaze was mesmerising. In that moment, Hermione understood
completely what had motivated Harry to do what he'd done.

Harry slowly closed and opened his eyes before he continued. `So you see, it was that first
night you were home I started thinking about what I could do so that it couldn't happen again.
I wasn't going to allow *anything* or *anyone* to take you away from me. I'd
actually discussed some form of protection with Dumbledore earlier and after that, I was determined
to act on it.'

Harry went on to explain how he and Dumbledore had worked on the Cautus Contego Charm after
he'd managed to convince their old Headmaster it was the only way that he, Harry, could be
certain she'd be safe. (`Only you could've talked Dumbledore into such a thing, I'm
sure,' commented Hermione.)

Harry appeared to be thinking out aloud as he spoke of being overwhelmed by the desire to keep
her safe above all else, without considering the consequences. Her safety was all that mattered. In
his mind, any means to that end were justified by the goal alone. Hermione became aware of the
heights - and depths - of Harry's desperation after the kidnapping.

As he spoke, Harry himself realised that he'd become locked onto a goal with only a single
vision and that vision, whilst it was for Hermione's safety, didn't involve Hermione
herself. The only thing he'd been capable of seeing, understanding and wanting was
Hermione's safety. Without reference to Hermione herself.

Because she was in the unique position of knowing intimately what was behind Harry's mindset
together with her long history with Harry, Hermione had insight not possible for anyone else.

And so, when Harry reached the end - when he painfully relived the moment Hermione had asked him
what it was he was keeping from her and he'd known that he'd gone about his mission the
wrong way - he took a deep, shaky breath, reliving the pain of that night and the nights that
followed.

`And you reached for the Ogden's?' asked Hermione softly.

Harry gave her a very crooked smile. `You have no idea,' he replied dryly. He shook his
head. `I find it hard to believe now, but I just knocked myself out each night - otherwise I know I
wouldn't've been able to sleep. I kept reliving how it was when they had you - what they
might be doing to you - that I couldn't get to you, couldn't help you - how powerless I
felt!' He shuddered at the memories he was invoking.

Hermione stood up and went to him, putting her arms around him and just holding him. Harry's
arms wrapped around her slender frame as he dropped his head to bury his face in her hair. They
remained like that for some time, words no longer necessary.

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

They were all there.

Harry and Hermione. Ron and Luna. Arthur and Molly. Ginny and Dean. Neville and Priscilla.

Priscilla had been both frightened and excited and not a little awestruck at being invited to
attend a meeting with the most famous Head of Hogwarts; Neville told her Dumbledore asked him to
bring her since she was so close to him.

Neville's hand closed over Priscilla's and squeezed gently. Priscilla threw him a small,
grateful smile before turning her attention back to the old wizard.

The Professor stood behind his desk, his thumbs hooked in the edging on his robes as he looked
at them over the top of his half-moon spectacles.

`Thank you all for coming this evening,' he told them. `As you can all see, Miss Weasley is
doing quite well.' All eyes turned momentarily to Ginny, smiles on their faces; soft colour
stole into her cheeks as she glanced down feeling somewhat embarrassed, but smiling a little
nonetheless. Dean, who was holding her hand, gave it an encouraging squeeze.

`I believe,' continued the Professor, dropping his chin and looking over the top of his
half-moon spectacles at them with a smile, `that there will still be a wedding on the appointed
date.'

As every eye came back to rest on Ginny and Dean, Dean smiled and nodded. `Yes, Ginny says
she's up to it, so the wedding's going ahead as planned.' Arthur and Molly had known
this, of course, and the rest of those present all made it quite clear they approved of this
decision.

Dumbledore smiled happily down at them and said, `Yes, yes, Miss Weasley is feeling quite a bit
better now, I think. I also believe congratulations are in order for Mr Weasley and Miss
Lovegood.' There was a low level cheer from everyone as Ron and Luna smiled happily at each
other. `You'll be kept busy, Molly, Arthur,' Dumbledore twinkled at them.

`For happy reasons, Albus, the best kind,' said Arthur, putting his arm across his
wife's shoulder as he turned to smile at her affectionately.

`And of course, Mr Potter and Miss Granger,' the Professor's voice sounding smugly
satisfied as he spoke, one arm sweeping across to indicate Harry and Hermione as he beamed at them,
`yet another loving couple heading for the altar, so to speak!'

As the last of the quiet laughter that ensued died down, everyone turned to look expectantly at
Neville and Priscilla, wondering what the Headmaster's comment about them would be.

`Mr Longbottom, Miss Laycock and yourself seem to be immune to the epidemic currently raging
through your group of friends.' Dumbledore smiled wickedly at Neville who surprised the old
wizard when he winked slowly in answer.

Priscilla had dropped her head so that her dark hair fell forward, hiding her face which was now
quite an interesting shade of red. `Well, not really…' began Neville, pride mixed with concern
for Priscilla in his tone. There was instant silence as nine pairs of eyes fixed themselves on his
face. Neville found himself suddenly overcome with embarrassment under their scrutiny. `I - we -
well, that is, I did - '

`We're engaged,' said Priscilla softly, glancing shyly up at Neville who couldn't
help but smile widely at his beautiful fiancée.

It was a good ten minutes before peace and quiet was restored although there was tangible sense
of excitement in the air.

`Four weddings, hmmm?' murmured Dumbledore who was now seated, leaning forward to rest his
arms on his desk and smiling at them all. `You will all be very busy in the months to come. Not too
busy, I hope, that you forget danger remains. Lucius Malfoy is still at large and we don't as
yet know what it is he is planning.'

Everyone sat quietly, wondering what the Professor would say next. All felt it was far more
pleasant dwelling on engagements and weddings and such like…

Looking at them over his spectacles once again, Dumbledore commented wryly, `Feeling a little
disgruntled? I don't blame you. Joyous occasions are far more pleasant to dwell upon.
However…' the Professor got to his feet once more and walked around to the front of his desk
before continuing. `I'm aware you would rather not think about such things as Lucius Malfoy and
danger - but to ignore these things will not cause them to evaporate, unfortunately, however much
we wish they would.'

Each gaze held resignation because each of them knew the Headmaster was speaking the truth.

`I believe,' the old wizard continued, `that Mr Longbottom has warned you all previously of
the steps you should take to ensure your own safety and those of your friends and family.' He
waited until everyone had acknowledged this with a look or a nod.

`Do not forget to take these steps - do not allow yourselves to be lulled into a false sense of
security. Sadly, while this is not on the scale of the threat to all wizard-kind that was presented
by Tom - Voldemort - it is a threat to all of you here present and those immediately related to you
or very, very, close to you. Please try to warn them without alarming them - caution is of the
utmost importance.'

Not long afterwards, making it clear the “meeting” was over, the Headmaster caused a large,
beautiful tray to appear on his desk laden with an enormous pot of tea, a pot of coffee, milk jug,
sugar bowl, cups and saucers and a platter piled high with home-baked biscuits, cakes and slices.
Ron was first to sample some of the delicious goodies while Molly oversaw the distribution of cups
of tea mostly, only Dumbledore and Arthur taking coffee.

Hermione found herself standing between Harry and Neville, each holding a cup of strong,
steaming tea.

`Harry,' said Neville, `I just need to tell you something…'

Harry looked at Neville and their gazes locked, Neville becoming aware of his heart relocating
itself to somewhere in the region of his throat.

`I want to let you know that when I told Hermione you were keeping something from her -'
*Shit! How do I put this?* `- I - well, I guess I can't really explain it. But I'm
sorry Harry, I'm really sorry - I -'

Harry broke in at that moment. `Neville? You can stop. It's all right. You'd always made
it clear what you thought of the whole thing about keeping it from Hermione. I was really pissed
off to start with - you have no idea HOW pissed off - but now…well…' Harry glanced quickly at
Hermione, giving her a rueful smile, `well, I guess I have to admit that you were right. And I was
wrong. Dumbledore was right too.'

Hermione moved closer to him, putting her hand on his arm to show she *knew.* And
understood. Besides, admitting he was wrong like this was pretty brave in her books. For any man,
really…

`That's a relief Harry, I have to say!' exclaimed Neville, laughing, feeling as though a
weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Not to mention his heart returning to its' rightful
place in his anatomy.

`Oh, I did consider hexing you BADLY, I must say!' retorted Harry, grinning.

`Bet you did!' Neville gave him a mischievous look. `Would've held my own, though, you
know.'

All three of them laughed then. `I don't doubt it!' said Harry finally.

Hermione felt a surge of affection for Neville and reached up with one hand to lightly touch his
cheek. `You are the best kind of friend a person could wish for, Neville,' she told him.

Priscilla joined them at that point after having a short, but enjoyable conversation with the
Hogwarts' Headermaster and Neville put an arm around her shoulders, drawing her into the
circle.

`Priscilla, you've chosen a wonderful man in Neville, I must say,' smiled Hermione.

Priscilla beamed at Neville as she lifted her arm, putting it around his waist. `I know,'
she said softly.

`Congratulations to you both!' said Harry warmly as he put his arm around Hermione's
waist and drew her to him.

As no one really had any further questions, everyone departed after some small talk over their
supper, Harry and Hermione remaining behind at the Headmaster's request.

It was getting late and as they settled once again into the armchairs before the fireplace in
Dumbledore's office, Harry and Hermione exchanged a glance that was full of longing… longing
for their own home, to be there alone…

The old Headmaster's speech was very succinct. He paced slowly, his hands clasped behind him
as he paced back and forth in front of the large fireplace. He told them his concern for Ginny was
now not so great. He didn't mention Draco or Narcissa Malfoy. He told them that he was
concerned about Lucius Malfoy and what he might be up to - stating he believed he was a continuing
danger to them all.

He came last to the Cautus Contego Charm. He told them the thoughts he'd had about the Charm
and at last shared his final concern: by whom had the Charm been activated that night at the
Burrow?

`But wasn't it some sort of mistake?' asked Hermione, a frown creasing her forehead.

Professor Dumbledore looked at her before he sadly shook his head. Harry, without realising it,
was suddenly sitting up straight, all senses alert.

`After much deliberation, Hermione, I know that I am certain of one thing: the Charm was
activated because you were in danger. It was no false alarm. And only this evening have I received
information as to who, perhaps, might represent such a danger.' As he spoke, he glanced quickly
at the portraits adorning the walls of his office, the occupants of which were all looking intently
at the current Headmaster.

Harry and Hermione looked at each other, both seeing fearful uncertainty in the other's eyes
before they turned back to look at Dumbledore.

`Tell us,' said Harry quietly as he took Hermione's hand.

TO BE CONTINUED….

Just a quiet little cliffie….*small, quiet smile*

-->



9. Four Weddings & A Funeral - Chapter Eight
--------------------------------------------



Author's Note

This chapter is laden with fluff (so don't say you weren't warned! *cheesy grin*). Make
the most of it while it lasts….you never know what's waiting around the corner… *evil author
chuckle*

A million thanks once again to the wonderful Kirsti!

FOUR WEDDINGS & A FUNERAL

By Lady Jane

Chapter Eight

Harry stirred and automatically reached out for Hermione…only to have panic assail him as his
hands met an empty expanse of sheet and he realised with a start she wasn't there. His eyes
snapped open as he sat bolt upright, the fear draining away as he remembered where he was and why:
he was once again in Ron's room at the Burrow and he was here because it was finally the
fourteenth of September: Ginny and Dean's wedding day. As for the fear - it was something
he'd learnt to live with for the last three weeks, ever since they'd spoken to Dumbledore -
an ever-present dread of something unknown happening, at an unknown time and place, *to
Hermione**.* And the same question had become his first waking thought each morning: *Was
today the day?* He and Dumbledore had put Anti-Apparation/Disapparation Spells around
Hermione's office, their home and here at the Burrow to ensure she wouldn't be able to be
kidnapped in the same manner employed by Jugson and Mulciber. He and Hermione had come to an
agreement that they wouldn't let the possibility she was a target cloud their lives and while
Hermione appeared to have put it from her mind, Harry, each day, had to suppress his fears,
something he did purely for Hermione's sake. He did this now, knowing she wouldn't be alone
today, that there would be someone with her every minute she wasn't with him.

As he pushed away his worry over Hermione and replaced it with thoughts of the day ahead, he lay
down again. Stretching his arms up, put his hands behind his head and sighed, a sigh of resignation
at the lack of Hermione beside him - he *really* didn't like this business of waking up
alone. As his thoughts moved on to Ginny and Dean, he couldn't help but smile, knowing what a
wonderful day this would be for them. After everything they'd been through, they were finally
going to get married. His thoughts, however, inevitably returned to Hermione (as they always did)
and in particular his memory of their conversation the previous evening…

*Hermione sighed as they sat together on the old, carved, wooden bench where she had so
happily accepted Harry's proposal to her just over two months ago. The September night air was
crisp but neither seemed to notice.*

*`Is that a good sigh or a bad sigh?' asked Harry.*

*Hermione smiled up at him as she replied, `An in-between sort of sigh.'*

*Harry raised his eyebrows inquiringly.*

*`The last three weeks have just been so busy with getting ready for the wedding tomorrow I
haven't really had time to think about … well, you know, that wretched charm business and what
Dumbledore told us about - which is good - and the fact that everything has gone so well for the
wedding tomorrow is also good but…'*

*`But?' prompted Harry when she hesitated.*

*Hermione put her head on his shoulder as her arms wrapped around his waist.*

*`But now - now I'm thinking about it and I'm so worried something's going to
happen tomorrow to spoil it for Dean and Ginny.'*

*Luckily Hermione, with her head tucked in the crook of Harry's neck, didn't see the
frightening expression on Harry's face or the hardening of his eyes at her words**;
while* *she was concerned about Ginny and Dean,* *Harry was thinking about HER and what
he'd do to anyone who attempted to so much as THINK about hurting her in any* *way,
wedding or no wedding…*

*`I'll be there, Hermione,' whispered Harry, his voice roughened by the strength of
his emotions. `Nothing will happen'* *- t**o you**, he added to himself,
promising her silently,* *n**ot tomorrow, not ever**.*

*Harry gently placed his fingers under her chin, tilting her head up so that he could see into
her eyes. `I love you,' he whispered, then leant down and put his lips softy against hers.
Hermione's arms immediately tightened around him in response and she pressed her mouth harder
against his, thinking that she would never tire of this - the feeling of his mouth on hers, the
masculine hardness of his body, the gentleness of his hand cupping her face - she loved kissing
him. Harry on the other hand was painfully aware of how soft and inviting her curves were - he
wanted desperately to lose himself in the scent of her hair, the feel of her skin, the sound of her
sighs, the feel of her arms around him and her body against his…*

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

Harry groaned. *Great, just great. I had to go and think about that. Bloody terrific. One cold
shower coming up*. *Dammit. Warm Hermione would be far preferable to cold water…*

He became aware of the sound of muffled snores emanating from the mound-that-was-Ron in the bed
across the room under the window. *His “feed-me” alarm will be going off soon,* thought Harry
with amusement, swinging his legs round and deciding he may as well get up and get showered now
before the breakfast stampede began in earnest.

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

Ginny woke slowly, the realisation that this was her wedding day making her smile as she opened
her eyes to the soft sunshine streaming through her window.

*Perfect weather for a perfect day*, she thought. Then she remembered the damned dream
she'd had that had woken her in the middle of the night...

*The beautiful bower that had been created for their marriage ceremony surrounded her as she
floated along**,* *smiling at the faceless guests. She held her bouquet held in her hands
at her waist as she smiled at her groom, their eyes locked. As she grew closer, she blinked slowly
and when her eyes opened, she saw not the sculpted lines of Dean's face, dominated by the warm
brown gaze she loved, but the sharp, gaunt features of Draco Malfoy. He was smiling, his grey eyes
appearing to glow with happiness as they rested on her**.*

*Her step faltered but she was almost there and he turned, reaching out to rest his hands
momentarily on her shoulders before sliding them down her arms to take her right hand in his, her
left hand falling to her side, her bouquet slipping from her fingers, forgotten, as his free hand
moved to her waist and pu**l**led her to him.*

*Everything around them vanished then and she felt as though they were in some sort of slow
free fall with his hand spread on the small of her back, pressing her against him, his voice
whispering… `Ginevra… it's been so long…I've waited so long… I want you so much…I will love
you always...'*

*Then his lips claimed hers and as her eyes closed and her arms began the slow journey to wrap
themselves around his neck, she felt herself falling faster and faster - then she woke with a
start, her heart pounding, her breathing fast and shallow…*

Ginny shook her head to clear the memory. At least she recognised it as being just that - a
dream - not one of those horrifying nightmares brought on by those accursed roses; she knew the
difference now although there was still a lingering hint of the influence of the roses which she
was confident would pass in time. She thought she could understand why she'd had the dream -
the worry and nerves that go hand in hand with the build up to your wedding day - but it made it no
less palatable and she sure as hell wasn't going to let it cloud her day of days! She
resolutely put it from her mind as her thoughts returned once more to Dean.

*Mrs Thomas. Ginevra Thomas. Mrs Dean Thomas. Mrs Ginevra Thomas. Ginny Thomas.*

Ginny smiled. They **all** sounded so good!

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

Dean had woken before the sun came up, propping himself up against the bed-head to take in the
slow transition from night to dawn and finally to day, watching the edge of light on its slow but
inexorable journey across the duvet towards the floor beyond the bed. With his hands behind his
head to cushion it against the wooden bed-head, he allowed his thoughts free rein, following them
as they wandered here and there - but still always centred on Ginny.

*My wife. Ginny Thomas. My wife! I can't wait, he thought, to hold her for the first time
as my wife - my partner in life, forever more…*

*Oh, how the two of them had earnt this! They deserved their happiness this day.*

For a fleeting moment, a steely hardness captured his features as he acknowledged that new
corner of himself - the corner that held capabilities he'd never thought he'd have or need.
He would brook no interference on this day. *God and Merlin both will not be able to help anyone
who dares to disturb this day, of all days,* he promised silently.

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

On the floor above, Hermione, Luna and Priscilla all woke after sunrise, their contagious
excitement making them laugh and giggle at the most ridiculous things. They sat cross-legged on
their beds, talking about this and that, even after they heard footsteps pass their door heading
downstairs followed by the unmistakeable sounds of Mrs Weasley in her kitchen, preparing
breakfast.

The tempting smell of breakfast that wafted up the stairs shortly afterwards prompted Hermione
to cry, `Time to go downstairs!' as she bounded off her bed, any worries or concerns she may
have entertained lost in the anticipation and joy of the day.

As the three girls skipped down the stairs, their ranks were swollen firstly by Ginny emerging
from her room, then Charlie and Neville emerging from their shared room as well as Bill and Fleur,
arm in arm, beaming at them all as they came onto the landing. The chattering human convoy entered
the kitchen to find Harry, Ron and Dean as well as Mr Weasley and the twins already seated at the
magically lengthened table, tucking into one of Mrs Weasley's hearty breakfasts.

Ron looked pointedly at his sister. `At least this time we get a proper breakfast!' He was
alluding to the morning of Ginny and Dean's engagement party when all and sundry were given (in
his eyes) a meagre breakfast of tea and toast.

Ginny wrinkled her nose at him. `**You** should marry your stomach Ronald Weasley!' she
retorted. To Ron's disgust, Luna laughed louder than anyone.

Everyone seated themselves as Mrs Weasley busily waved her wand here and there, sending eggs off
to fry themselves, bacon and sausages to sizzle and tomatoes to be grilled while the toaster kept
itself busy sending cooked toast to a rack with deadly accuracy while bread sailed through the air
after slicing itself and fell into the waiting toaster.

`This eez ze most delicious breakfast Mama!' announced Fleur just before placing a forkful
of egg, sausage and tomato into her mouth and smiling, her eyes closed in appreciation.

`Best ever, Mum!' announced Fred.

`Better than the best!' called George.

There were murmurs of assent all around the table and Mrs Weasley beamed proudly. *Today was
going to be magical* *in every way,* she thought to herself.

`A toast!' cried Charlie, jumping to his feet, a full glass of pumpkin juice in hand.
`Here's to a wonderful day, especially for Ginny and Dean, and here's to a wonderful start
to the day - Mum's breakfast!'

Amid laughter, there were the soft clinking sounds of glasses being touched together and
choruses of “hear, hear!”

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

The morning passed in a happy haze of fun and chaos. Dean's parents, his brothers and
sisters and their assorted wives and husbands arrived for an early lunch with the Weasleys and the
others in the bridal party. Mrs Weasley had consented to having caterers in to serve that meal, as
well as the sumptuous afternoon tea and light evening meal being served after the ceremony, but it
had taken quite a bit of persuading.

Hermione's parents and Priscilla's mother also arrived a little early, both mothers
being allowed into the “inner sanctum” - as Luna had taken to calling Mr and Mrs Weasley's
bedroom - for a brief visit with their daughters as they got ready.

Dumbledore's arrival at one o'clock seemed to mark the countdown to the ceremony he
would be presiding over which was due to begin at two o'clock. As it was, he “came in rather
handy” Ron told Harry and Neville while they were getting dressed.

`Mum was getting a bit frazzled about everything being ready on time and good old Dumbledore
just swished and flicked and hey presto!'

`Just like magic, eh?' laughed Harry, Neville and Ron quickly joining in.

They checked each other over to make sure they were, `Good enough to eat, mate!' as Ron
succinctly put it before going down to wait in the kitchen where they were soon joined by
Dean's parents and Arthur and Molly, the men looking a little resigned to spending the
afternoon in suits while the ladies looked very pleased with themselves. Everyone else was waiting
outside and helping to look after the guests as they arrived, showing them to their seats.

The last to come down - besides the bride and groom themselves - were Hermione, Luna and
Priscilla. Harry, Ron and Neville had no idea they each had an identical expression of dumb-struck
wonder on their faces (much to the great amusement of the others present) as they each watched
their lady descend the stairs. The girls all wore long flowing dresses of softest mint-green that
seemed to cling to them until flaring out to float around their feet; the full-length sleeves
ending in long, soft tendrils of the silky material while the wide, deep, rounded neckline revealed
just the right amount of milky cleavage. All three had their long hair in soft curls that fell down
their back, the silver thread amongst the long tresses seeming to fall from a delicate circlet
around their heads which sat across their foreheads, dancing with reflected light. They each
carried half a dozen long stemmed orchids that had been charmed to appear silver, the same colour
as the strands of ribbon tying them together.

As Priscilla reached the last step, Neville stepped up and offered her his arm, gazing down at
her with adoration obvious in his eyes.

Luna took Ron's arm next and smiled up at him, loving the fact that he seemed to have been
robbed of the power of speech simply by her appearance.

Harry took Hermione's free hand in his as she stepped off the last stair and brought it to
his lips, holding it there, the intensity of his green gaze, filled with love, admiration and
desire, causing her breath to catch in her throat.

`You look breathtaking beyond words and I love you,' he murmured for her ears alone.

`Come along, now!' said Mrs Weasley briskly as she bustled everyone outside save for her
husband, Harry and the three bridesmaids. `Now, Harry, you go up and get Dean you can both go take
your places.'

Harry reluctantly let go of Hermione's hand before taking the stairs two at a time, he and a
beaming Dean emerging together from Dean's room almost immediately after Harry had knocked and
entered. Hermione sighed and smiled at Harry as he made his way down the stairs, thinking to
herself how handsome and sexy he looked. Dean shook hands with his pending father-in-law, gave his
teary-eyed soon-to-be mother-in-law an affectionate hug, then winked at the three girls and told
them they looked adorable as he and Harry headed outside. `See you soon!' he called as they
disappeared through the stone archway that had been magically created in the wall of the house for
the occasion.

Mrs Weasley then made her way upstairs to her bedroom where she and the three bridesmaids had
helped her daughter get ready. She opened the door to see Ginny standing at the window, looking
down at the scene in the garden, a dreamy smile on her face.

`It's time,' said Molly softly, surreptitiously wiping the corner of her eye.

Ginny turned and walked towards her mother, bending to pick up her bouquet of silver and white
orchids from the end of the bed.

`You look perfect,' sighed Molly. Ginny's dress was similar in style to her
attendants' - the same long sleeves, rounded neckline and fit, flaring at her feet - although a
little fuller and more elaborate with a short train. Delicate silver embroidery meandered over the
whole dress becoming rather more intricate around the neckline, hem and sleeves. She wore a very
fine silver and diamond necklace with matching earrings and small tiara that held the gossamer
veil, as long as her hair, charmed to float softly around her head and shoulders, silver highlights
sparkling amongst its fine threads. Her long red hair had been softly curled and hung luxuriantly
down her back.

Ginny impulsively hugged her mother. “Oh, Mummy, I can't believe it's finally happening!
I've never felt so happy!'

Holding her daughter at arm's length, Molly smiled, holding back her tears. `And that's
as it should be! I'm so proud of you, Ginny - and so's your father. Now come on, darling,
let's go!'

A beautiful bower had been created for the occasion, among the flowers covering it were English
poppies, dahlias and snapdragons in all shades abounding while the beautiful, heady fragrance of
sweet pea filled the air. The bower was big enough for all the guests to sit under (except Hagrid,
who happily stood to one side) and at the head of the aisle stood Albus Dumbledore, resplendent in
his favourite purple robe covered in silver stars and moons, beaming happily at all and sundry as
they waited for the bride's arrival.

Dean stood, looking expectantly at the stone arch as he waited. Harry, beside him, did the same,
along with Ron and Neville. Hedwig, Pig and Errol were perched in a nearby tree, Crookshanks
stretched out on the branch below them.

A sudden hush seemed to settle over all and as Dumbledore deftly waved his hand, the strains of
the Bridal Waltz, familiar to both the Wizarding and Muggle worlds alike, filled the air. Molly and
Arthur appeared, their happy countenances bringing smiles to the guests' faces. Once they
reached the bower, they moved to their seat at the front and turned to watch with everyone else as
Priscilla stepped through the archway, looking a little overwhelmed at being there, but managing to
smile as she walked along the white stone pathway magically laid just for this occasion. When she
reached the shelter of the bower, Luna stepped through the arch and followed in her footsteps. As
Luna reached the bower, Priscilla stopped at the front and after giving Neville a glowing smile,
moved aside. Harry was tense, waiting for Hermione to appear and when she did, he couldn't help
but grin, watching her every step, catching her eye as she reached the edge of the bower and giving
her such a look that a faint blush crept into her cheeks, making her look even more beautiful to
him. At that point, all eyes but Harry's left Hermione and moved back to the archway because
Ginny had appeared, her head high as she immediately sought her fiancé's face in the sea of
faces confronting her.

The second their eyes met, she began to walk, slowly stepping along the pathway, the love she
felt for this man curving her mouth into a beautiful smile and making her eyes glow. She neither
saw nor heard anyone else until she reached his side and they turned to face each other.

The two of them felt as though they floated through the ceremony, Dumbledore's voice leading
them as they repeated their vows. Only after he'd pronounced them “husband and wife” did they
seem to become aware once more of the people around them. There was applause as they kissed and
then they were surrounded, being hugged, congratulated and kissed by everyone.

As everyone moved away from the bower to group together for the only photograph that was
traditionally taken at a Wizarding wedding, the Candle & Cauldron Catering Company moved in and
expertly transformed the bower to accommodate enough round tables for the guests to be seated at
with enough food and drink “for an army of Hagrids and Rons” joked George to Fred.

The next few hours were filled with a lot of fun and laughter, many congratulatory hugs and
kisses and numerous spontaneous outbreaks of song, usually led by Albus Dumbledore with Fred and
George alongside him. Even Percy ventured away from his mother and conversed quietly with other
people.

Miraculously, there was enough food - despite the presence of Hagrid and Ron - and the
traditional Aureus Lebes was filling fast.

Harry and Hermione sat with her parents, who were both intensely interested in everything around
them.

They'd commented on what a nice touch it was for the bride's parents to walk together
down the aisle to their seat although they were curious as to why the bride's father didn't
“give her away” as was often the custom with Muggles.

Hermione, of course, had read up on Wizarding customs and was able to tell them that daughters
had never been thought of as not being able to care for themselves (most witches being perfectly
capable of doing so) and therefore didn't need to be handed from the “care of the father” and
given into the “care of the husband”. Hermione's mum had nodded as her daughter spoke,
commenting that, `I guess magic really puts witches and wizards on an even footing.' Hermione,
to her credit, refrained from pointing out that whilst there were was, and always had been,
equality amongst witches and wizards, it hadn't been extended to other magical species, such as
house elves…

`And that bowl thing - what's that for?' asked her father, pointing to the large, stone
container that if he'd been familiar with them, would've reminded him of an outsized
pensieve. It sat atop a stone pedestal and was almost filled to the brim with galleons.

`Well, rather than give gifts to the bridge and groom, each guest simply puts in the number of
galleons they can afford and the bridge and groom can spend it on whatever they need. Its' name
means “Bowl of Gold” or “Golden Bowl”.'

There were no speeches as was traditional at Muggle weddings, only the bride and groom standing
together and saying heartfelt thanks to everyone as they waved and blew kisses while making their
way to a heart shape that had been laid out on the grass using flower petals; it was just big
enough for the two of them if they stood with their arms around each other, Ginny carefully lifting
her train so that it didn't disturb the outline. Both sets of parents walked up, Dean receiving
a small, golden four leaf clover, Ginny a golden heart, each the size of a charm; as Dean dropped
his head to kiss his bride, the Wedding Portkeys they'd just been given whipped them away to
their honeymoon destination.

A happy collective sigh seemed to sweep through the guests before they went about the business
of saying goodbye to each other and taking their leave. Mrs Weasley confided to her husband that
she found herself at this point singularly grateful for the Candle & Cauldron Catering Company
as she was able to simply walk back inside her house and put the kettle on without a single worry
about the “mess” outside. Mr Weasley ensured the Aureus Lebes was safely stowed away before joining
her, returning the wall that had been the stone archway back to its original state.

Neville didn't stay this night, leaving with Priscilla and her mother to accompany them
home. Bill and Fleur retired early and Charlie, of course, returned to Romania. `If I should marry
my stomach, Charlie should marry a dragon,' Ron was heard to comment as Charlie took off on his
broom. Fred and George had decided to stay. `You just want another cracking breakfast!' accused
Ron with a smirk.

Fred grinned as he said, `Ickle Ronniekins isn't quite as-`

`-thick as he makes out to be,' finished George, grinning back.

Ron snorted but laughed good-naturedly at his twin brothers as he sat down on the old couch in
front of the fire, Luna curling up beside him, her head on his shoulder. Harry was seated at the
other end, Hermione sitting on a cushion on the floor between his knees, her head dropped slightly
forward as Harry gently massaged her neck and shoulders, drawing quietly appreciative little sounds
from her. Fred and George said goodnight then, taking a mug of hot chocolate each up to their
room.

In the end, it was only the four of them as Mr and Mrs Weasley finished their cups of tea and
happily retired for the night.

Hermione, feeling much better after Harry's ministrations, was now lying with her head in
his lap, Harry's right hand tangled in her curls, enjoying their softness, his left hand on top
of her hands as they rested on her midriff. Hermione's eyes were closed, a small smile playing
about her full lips. Harry gazed down at her, feeling very contented and happy and not a little
grateful that everything had gone “without a hitch” today. He couldn't help but think about
what their own wedding day would be like.

`Different,' said Hermione.

`What?' said Harry, startled.

`Our wedding day, I was just thinking, it'll be a little different to today.'

Harry shook his head as if to clear it. It was uncanny how she appeared to read his thoughts at
times.

`I don't doubt it,' he finally replied.

`Ours will be VERY different,' announced Luna suddenly.

Harry looked around to his left at Ron, his eyebrows raised.

Ron shrugged and smiled indulgently. `Whatever makes her happy makes me happy,' he said
simply.

*Yeah, true,* thought Harry, looking down once more at Hermione to find her smiling up at
him, her eyes glowing. He smiled back, his fingers leaving her hair and lovingly caressing her
face.

`By the way,' said Ron gruffly. `I believe last time we all stayed here - for the engagement
party - you lot pulled a bit of a swifty and Luna and I missed out! Not nice, y'know!' He
was alluding, of course, to the night of Ginny and Dean's engagement party when Priscilla had
suggested a little “room swapping” so that Dean and Ginny as well as Harry and Hermione could spend
the night together, Mrs Weasley having separated them all so that the girls shared rooms and the
boys shared rooms, just not with each other.

Harry couldn't help but laugh, nor could Hermione. `Only because you'd already gone to
bed - weighed down by more food than you could poke a stick at, I might add!' Harry was
eventually able to say.

`Well, we could make up for that tonight, what d'you reckon?' Ron's attempt to sound
offhand failed dismally.

`Oooh, I don't know that we should do that twice, Ron,' said Hermione thoughtfully, her
eyes full of mischief as she looked up at Harry.

`I reckon we could get away with it once more,' said Ron a little desperately. `Mum and Dad
are *really* exhausted and are sure to sleep late!'

`I don't know, Ron, I just don't know,' said Harry seriously, although his eyes were
full of laughter.

`They're teasing you, sweetheart,' said Luna merrily and Harry and Hermione both burst
out laughing.

`Should've known!' muttered Ron, but he grinned as he said it.

Harry looked down at Hermione and the look in her eyes as her lips slowly parted, the tip of her
tongue quickly moistening them, was enough to cause an immediate tightening sensation that he knew
she couldn't avoid being aware of. Sure enough, Hermione's eyes momentarily widened before
a slow smile lifted the corners of her mouth; then she arched her neck and undercover of stretching
moved just enough so that her head was now resting up against the quickly growing hardness that was
robbing Harry of his ability to think clearly.

`Well, we could risk it one more time, what do you think Harry?' asked Hermione
innocently.

Harry didn't trust himself to say anything more than a rather gruff, `Sure,' which made
Hermione chuckle.

`So, Luna and I'll have my room and you and Hermione have Ginny's room.'

`Sounds perfect,' said Hermione, still busy torturing Harry with very slow but firm
movements of her head.

`Let's go!' said Ron enthusiastically, jumping up and pulling Luna up with him.

Waving airily at Harry and Hermione, Luna gave them a dreamy smile and let Ron lead her
away.

As soon as they were out of sight, Harry began to tickle Hermione. `You little minx!' he
cried, laughing himself.

Hermione wiggled out of his grasp and slid back to the floor on her knees, facing Harry. Resting
her elbows on his thighs and her chin on her clasped hands she smiled up at him. `At least I finish
what I start,' she told him, batting her eyelids and giggling again.

`You'd better!' he growled, grasping her under the arms and pulling her up to sit on his
lap. Framing her face with his hands, he pulled her to him and kissed her hard, his need for her
increasing by the second. Hermione could feel herself becoming so much jelly - he could do that to
her. She moaned softly as his hands left her face and traced every curve on her body he could
reach. He leant back suddenly, his voice roughened with desire as he said, `Let's go to bed -
now!'

`Let's!' murmured Hermione desperately, surprised when Harry Apparated them to
Ginny's room.

As they fell on to the bed, Hermione said between kisses, `I didn't think - you could -
Apparate - here - or under - that sort - of pressure -'

`Necessity is the mother of invention - Dumbledore -' mumbled Harry, his face buried in
Hermione's hair as he began slowly kissing his way down the long line of her neck, `- lots of
tricks up his sleeves -' until he reached the delicate hollow by her collarbone, `- he told me
how, just in case…' then continuing until he met the rising swell of her breast, wishing her
dress would get out of the way.

He fell back on his knees then, pulling Hermione into a sitting position so that he could undo
her dress…except he couldn't find the zipper. Realising what he was up to, Hermione extricated
herself and stood up. `It's actually been put on with magic,' she told him and pulling her
wand from a concealed pocket, tapped her left shoulder while murmuring something under her breath.
Her dress slithered to the floor in a pale mint cloud, leaving her standing there in white …
*What do you call that?!* thought Harry, his heart pounding, his breathing becoming fast and
shallow. His wide, green gaze travelled from the gorgeously sexy, smug smile down to the
irresistible cleavage at which point he realised she had on a corset style garment that clung to
her small waist and stopped just below her belly button revealing a thin strip of taut, white skin
between it and the top of her lacy knickers. His eyes kept dropping of their own accord and came to
the white, lacy tops of her stay-up, sheer white stockings. He thought it was just as well he
hadn't known all day what was under her dress - it would've driven him crazy…

`Hermione…' it came out as an agonised murmur.

`Yes Harry?' Breathless.

`You're…'

`Yes Harry?' Even more breathless.

`Exquisite.' Adoration in his voice.

`Thank you Harry.' Satisfied.

He reached out and clasped her waist, pulling her down to sit beside him on the bed. As he leant
over and kissed her, he pushed forward so that she ended up on her back and Harry, still on his
knees and clothed in his black pants and white shirt, his bow tie hanging loose, swung one leg over
and knelt over her, his mouth still against hers. He felt for her hands and drew them up above her
head, holding them there with his own hands, leaving him only his mouth to work with.

`Harry?'

`Mmmmm?'

`I love what you're doing…'

`Good…'

`Harry?'

`Mmmmm?'

`You are so incredibly sexy and I want you so much-'

`You took the words right out of my mouth.'

`Put them back in, will you?'

`Gladly…'

A minute later:

`Harry?'

`Yes Hermione?'

`I want to take my clothes off.'

`Me too.'

`Then let's.'

`Okay.'

`*Now,* Harry.'

`Got it.'

Two seconds later.

`Harry?'

`Yes Hermione?'

`How did you do that?'

`Do what?'

`Lose all our clothes like that - poof!'

`Poof? What the hell kind of word is that?'

`You know what I mean!'

`How did I do it?'

`Yes.'

`Necessity is-'

`-the mother of invention, I know. I think I love necessity…'

`Not as much as me, I hope.'

`Never as much as you, Harry. Nothing as much as you.'

`Hermione?'

`Yes Harry?'

“What do I have to do to stop you talking?'

`Kiss me more.'

`Love to.'

Quite some time later…

`Harry?'

`Yes Hermione?'

`Love you.'

`Hermione?'

`Yes Harry?'

`Love you, too.'

TO BE CONTINUED….

Author's Note

22 days to HBP. Not that I'm counting or anything. Oh, and some inconsiderate person has
invited us to their birthday party the night of the 16th of July. Sheesh. Even without
the aid of a crystal ball I can see myself smuggling my copy of HBP into the party and spending a
serious amount of time in the loo….

-->



10. Four Weddings & A Funeral - Chapter Nine
--------------------------------------------



Author's Note

*Groan!* Not AGAIN! *squeak squeak* (clearing the fog off my monitor once more!) I think I need
to get a demister for my monitor or perhaps I could buy one with fog-proof glass…and since
they're responsible, maybe Harry and Hermione should pay for it…

PS If there are any mistakes I'm really sorry - I've tried revising in my normal manner
but my mind just WILL NOT stay still - it keeps zooming off to thoughts of “soon - soon! HBP -
soon!”

FOUR WEDDINGS & A FUNERAL

By Lady Jane

Chapter Nine

`Lulled…' Harry murmured, frowning at his now empty plate.

`Hmmm?' Hermione was engrossed in reading Ginny's article in Witch Weekly that Harry had
just pointed out to her. It was about the Quidditch World Cup which they'd all attended a week
earlier.

`Do you know, I think Ginny's going to end up the Sports Editor before she's
thirty,' Hermione said almost to herself, still preoccupied with reading, as usual.

He and Hermione were sitting at the kitchen table having their usual leisurely Sunday breakfast
when Harry suddenly stood up, struck by a feeling of restlessness, and started collecting their
used dishes. Hermione looked up, surprised.

`Harry?'

Walking to the sink and putting the plates down, Harry turned, leaning against the sink as he
crossed his arms, a frown creasing his forehead as he looked at Hermione.

`I feel as though we've been lulled into a false sense of security - and that it's been
too quiet. It's beginning to worry me. I think it's time we had a serious talk with Neville
and Dumbledore.'

Propping her elbow on the table, Hermione dropped her chin into her hand and looked back at
Harry, a small smile in place. *I wonder if he knows how positively delicious he looks?* she
mused, taking in the old, dark grey, slightly loose track pants that hung enticingly low on his
hips; he hadn't bothered to put a t-shirt on as the heating spell he'd recently put in
place ensured that inside their flat was always warm and springlike, whatever the weather
outside.

`Hermione!'

The exasperation in his tone brought Hermione out of her dreamy contemplation of the delicious
view she had of Harry and she sat back, giving him a “come hither” smile. Harry rolled his
eyes.

`Harry, it's *Sunday!*' she complained, hoping to head off whatever “serious talk”
he was planning on ruining their Sunday morning with. *Monday,* she thought, her eyes once
more moving appreciatively over him, *is a far better day for serious talks.*

Harry sighed, his eyes closing as he dropped his head, his features creased with concern. Before
he could open them again, Hermione had walked around the bench, deftly hoisting herself up to sit
beside him, the short, blue, silky barely-there negligee only just covering her. Harry looked
around as he felt her brush against him, then turned so that he was standing in front of her,
leaning slightly forward with his hands on the bench either side of her, the appreciative look in
his eyes contrasting with his serious expression. As Hermione stretched her legs out and playfully
locked her ankles behind his back, drawing him closer, Harry felt his resolve weaken - “serious
talk” could perhaps wait after all … especially as Hermione was now lacing her fingers behind his
neck and leaning forward to kiss him.

`Mmmm, yum…you taste like crumpets and honey…' she murmured softly against his mouth.

Despite still feeling mild exasperation at Hermione's screamingly obvious attempt to
distract him, Harry nevertheless knew he was helpless and could do nothing but respond - as he
always did to the woman he loved. The little resolve he'd been clinging to evaporated as he
brought his hands up to her hips and pulled her forward to the edge of the bench so that she was
able to wrap her legs around him completely before he began kissing her in earnest. He was very
aware of her hands as one slid up to entangle itself in his hair, the other travelling across to
his shoulder then down onto his chest, her fingernails scraping across his skin as they began their
tantalising journey down over his stomach…

Still kissing her deeply, Harry's hands left Hermione's hips and travelled up each
softly curving side to sit on her waist as his hips moved back a little to make room for that hand
of hers that was still slowly, teasingly, travelling “south” - he wanted nothing more than for it
to reach it's destination - in fact he rather desperately craved it's arrival…

At this more or less pivotal point, Hermione leaned gently back away from their kiss, bringing
both her hands to rest on his chest, although they didn't remain stationary; instead they
seemed to emulate crazy-paving as they meandered here and there, every nerve ending Harry possessed
in that area sending signals directly to what was fast becoming a seriously *hard* matter that
*really* needed to be dealt with….

`Hermione,' Harry could manage only a groan, `you're driving me crazy…' He leaned
forward again in an attempt to recapture her lips.

`Oh, and *you* don't drive *me* crazy, I suppose?' she asked archly, although
she couldn't help but smile.

`Do I?'

Those two words - spoken in such a deeply intense and husky tone while his incredible green eyes
burned into hers - took her breath away. Before she could speak, he curled one arm around her
waist, the other moving into her hair and finding the nape of her neck so that she couldn't
escape as he began to kiss her once more.

As their lips slowly and reluctantly parted, Hermione let her head drop back and Harry
immediately took advantage of the easy access to the tender skin of her neck, leaving a trail of
softly burning kisses behind. Hermione moaned as Harry's hands moved up to cup her breasts
through the thin, silky material, his thumbs moving lazily backwards and forwards over her now hard
nipples. Instinctively she tightened her legs around him and since this brought the head of
Harry's painfully erect penis into contact with the warm softness that was Hermione,
Harry's hands immediately dropped to grasp her bottom in an attempt to pull her even more
tightly against him, although that hardly seemed possible.

Hermione reached down for the hem of her negligee and wiggling a little to free it, pulled it
over her head and dropped it, not caring where it landed. She then leant back on her elbows,
tossing her head to send her loose hair back over her shoulders, keeping her legs in place around
Harry.

Even though Harry had known she had nothing on under her negligee, he still experienced a
delighted jolt at the sight of a totally naked Hermione reclining in front of him, wearing nothing
but an extremely suggestive smile. Bringing his hands up to her breasts, he gave each nipple an
almost-gentle pinch, drawing a soft groan from Hermione, before running his hands down over her
taut, flat stomach then along her thighs and behind him to pull her legs from around him, lifting
them up as he leant forward and placing them on his shoulders.

The instant she realised his intention, Hermione tried to protest - she *really, really*
wanted him *inside* her! She *needed* him inside her! However, the second she felt
Harry's warm breath on the inside of her thigh she found herself unable to speak and also
unable to stay up on her elbows - her arms straightened as she slowly collapsed onto the bench and
gave herself up to the indescribable sensations created by Harry's mouth and the feel of his
breath on her skin as he continued to kiss his way along her inner thigh. His hands had curled
around the tops of her legs, supporting them and just as Hermione was preparing herself for the
feel of Harry's tongue she realised he was now kissing her stomach just below her belly
button.

She clenched her fists, her head whipping from one side to the other as she instinctively tried
to lift her hips, desperate for any form of contact where she craved it most. However, Harry's
arms, wrapped around her upper legs as they were, prevented her from moving.

`*Harry! Please! You're torturing me!*' And although she whispered - or was that
whimpered? - he still heard her and smiled before reaching out with his tongue and swirling it
round her belly button before dragging it slowly, oh-so-slowly, down until finally he could feel
the beginning of her warm, soft crevice - and the hard, swollen little nub nestled there.

Hermione was unable to stop herself from crying out as Harry licked and kissed what felt to her
like every fold and crease before finally sucking gently on her swollen clitoris, engulfing her in
wave after wave of ecstasy, her back arching with the force of her orgasm and causing her to gasp
his name over and over. When he felt her finally become still, Harry turned his head and rested it
on Hermione's stomach, smiling and feeling extremely pleased with himself.

Hermione's hands wound weakly into his hair as she whispered his name one last time before
Harry stood up, gently helping her into a sitting position and wrapping his arms around her to
support her as she laid her head on his chest, her arms also winding around him. Harry lovingly
kissed the top of her head then laid his cheek on her soft, tousled hair.

`Harry?'

`Mmmm?'

`Bed?'

`Mmmmmm….'

`Now, please.'

`Mmmmmm…'

`Harry…'

*Crack!*

`That's better. Now lie down.'

`Like this?'

`Uh-huh. Harry, where did your pants go?'

`Into the great Apparation void.'

`Good place for them.'

`I thought so too.'

`Would you look at that!'

`I hope you plan to do more than look.'

`Oh indeed I do, Mr Potter, indeed I do. One good turn deserves another my mother always
said.'

`A wise woman, your - *oh my*…' Warm, soft, lips … wet, velvety tongue …

The warm, soft velvet was replaced with a cold void as Hermione spoke, `What's
wrong?'

He groaned. `Nothing! Don't stop!'

`What? This?' Velvety, wet warmth once more…

`Yes, that!'

A second later, the cold void returned…

`Harry, kindly keep quiet and stop interrupting me.'

`By Merlin's holy beard Hermione - *please!*'

`Well, since you asked so nicely…'

And there was no more talk. At least not for some time. But there were a lot of pleasurable
sighs and moans. Not surprising at all, really, considering what was going on...

When Hermione - who was lying between his legs resting on one elbow while her other hand firmly
encircled the base of his very swollen penis - once more deftly swirled her tongue around and
around before her mouth descended, plunging him into a soft, warm, wet, blissful abyss, Harry was
helpless to prevent a long, deep groan escaping him, nor could he stop his hands tangling
themselves tightly in Hermione's soft, brown tresses. It wasn't long before he felt himself
approaching his climax and he quickly reached out, pulling at Hermione as he made incoherent
noises, grasping her tightly around the waist as they both manoeuvred themselves so that Harry was
able to sink deeply into her, hard and fast, enjoying the sight of her on top of him through eyes
half closed as though he was delirious - which he was - with passion.

Hermione could feel another orgasm gathering force as Harry plunged into her again and again. It
overtook her just after Harry stiffened, his whole body locked in exquisite ecstasy.

As the waves of ecstasy receded, Hermione, feeling deliciously exhausted, crumpled gracefully
forward to lay her head on Harry's chest, both of them breathing heavily, both wearing very
satisfied little smiles.

`Hermione?'

`Hmmm?' Sleepily.

`That was much more fun than a serious talk.'

`I know.' Smugly.

`But we still have to face -'

`I know.' Sigh.

`Tomorrow.'

`Absolutely.' Resignedly.

`Hermione?'

`Hmmm?'

`You taste a lot better than crumpets and honey.'

`So do you.'

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

Hermione hummed as she made her way to her office the next morning, oblivious to the knowing
looks thrown her way by those she passed.

`I'd be humming too if I lived with Harry Potter,' one girl was heard to murmur to
another, eliciting a vigorous nod of agreement and knowing smirk from her friend.

Priscilla was in Hermione's office as she entered and looked around as Hermione's
glowing countenance appeared in the doorway.

`Good morning, Priscilla!' called Hermione airily as she made her way to her desk.

`Well, well, I see someone that got out of the right side of the bed this morning!'

`I surely did!' As she sank into her chair, Hermione laughed, thinking about what had gone
on in the *middle* of the bed that morning; after *that*, the right side of the bed was
*any* side of the bed…

Priscilla perched on the corner of Hermione's desk, parchment and quill in her hands and was
about to run through the list of “things to do” for that day when she realised she did *not*
have Hermione's attention - not at all, really. Putting down the parchment and quill, Priscilla
crossed her arms and cleared her throat, drawing Hermione's dreamy gaze, watching as her eyes
slowly focused. Hermione laughed when Priscilla commented that it was nice to see Hermione's
brain had finally arrived at the office to join the rest of her.

`Sorry, Priscilla! I'm just a little distracted this morning,' apologised Hermione,
whilst not looking apologetic at all. More like Crookshanks after a bowl of cream.

`It's only barely noticeable,' grinned Priscilla as she once more picked up the
parchment and quill. `Now, back to work!' she said briskly. `I have a lot of owls to go through
with you this morning and as you probably know, you and Harry are having lunch with Neville today -
Harry's already owled him - and I think they're hoping Professor Dumbledore can come too.
I've booked you all a table at the Dragon's Lair for noon. Then this afternoon at three
thirty, David Sunningfield - you remember him, don't you? From Neville's office?' On
receiving a nod from Hermione, Priscilla continued, `He's coming to see you about the trial of
those two Death Eaters who kidnapped you. Their trial is before the Wizengamot in a fortnight's
time.'

As she looked up, Priscilla saw Hermione's smile had disappeared. `What's wrong?'
she asked.

Hermione shrugged as though to rid herself of some unwelcome burden. `I'd almost forgotten
about those two.' Hermione sighed. `And I really hope Harry's wrong about all of us being
lulled into a false sense of security as far as Lucius Malfoy goes. He believes he's up to
something and is just biding his time.'

`Hermione, it's not like you to want to push such things aside.'

`I know, Priscilla, I know. I think I'm just rather weary of it all at the moment. It's
been so nice having an almost normal life lately - I guess I'm just reluctant to let it
go.'

Priscilla nodded sympathetically. `I don't blame you, really. But if Lucius Malfoy can be
caught and put back where he belongs, then you'll truly have nothing to worry about! And
there's no doubt that those two Death Eaters will end up in Azkaban either. *Then* you can
get on with your normal life!'

`I live for the day,' said Hermione with feeling, giving Priscilla a reassuring smile. At
that moment, Gaylord Pince knocked on the open door to get their attention, a shy smile on his face
as he entered at Hermione's nod.

`Memo for you Miss Granger - urgent.'

`Thanks, Gaylord,' smiled Hermione as she took the pale violet memo.

`That's strange,' said Hermione, frowning as she read the memo.

Priscilla, half way to the door, stopped and turned, her long, black swinging out. `What's
strange?'

Hermione looked up, a slight frown still creasing her forehead. `Neville wants to meet me at ten
thirty in that small park down the road from here. He says I shouldn't tell anyone, but he
doesn't say why.'

Priscilla also frowned, feeling puzzled. `Should I send a memo back and ask him what's going
on?'

Hermione looked thoughtful for a second then shook her head. `No, no need. Neville wouldn't
ask me without good reason.'

`You should tell Harry.' Priscilla said hesitantly.

`What?'

`Remember, Neville said we shouldn't go anywhere alone or without telling someone.'

Hermione smiled as she said, `Well, since it's Neville I'm meeting and *you* know
about it, I don't think I need to worry Harry about this.'

Priscilla looked away, a little embarrassed. `True, I suppose. I guess I just hear it from
Neville so often I'm getting just as paranoid.'

`Don't worry about it, really!' said Hermione. `How about you get those owls and
we'll go through as many as we can in - how long do we have?' Hermione glanced at her
watch, `- an hour.'

A minute later Priscilla returned with an armful of parchments which Hermione proceeded to read,
replying where necessary and before she knew it, the hour was up and she found herself one of the
many people walking along in the cool, autumn sunshine outside. As she approached the small park
which was ten minutes walk from the Ministry, she could see Neville sitting on one of the old
wooden benches, watching for her. As he rose to greet her, Hermione stretched up and gave him a
quick kiss on the cheek. `From Priscilla,' she told him, smiling.

At that precise moment, unbeknownst to her, Harry was sitting at their kitchen table at home,
the Daily Prophet spread on the table before him, reading it while enjoying a cup of tea. Then he
felt it for the second time: his whole body was suffused with warmth and there seemed to be a
bright light behind his eyes. He reacted instantly, pulling his wand from his jeans even as he
Disapparated, not knowing where he was going, only knowing that Hermione was in danger.

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

Earlier that same morning, Neville had groaned softly as he rolled over to turn off the alarm
clock on his bedside table. A gift from Priscilla, the clock's alarm was a croak. Priscilla
thought it was “cute” while to Trevor, his toad, it had become the love of his life. Neville mostly
wanted to pulverise it.

`The things we do for love,' he told a mournful Trevor who was sitting on the floor beside
his bed looking longingly at the glowing LCD readout of the charmed alarm clock which now said
“08:01AM”. Trevor croaked mournfully in reply, whilst not taking his eyes off the clock. Then an
infuriatingly mellifluous voice drifted from the clock: `It's eight oh one, Neville, I hope
you're up and getting ready to meet the day! Morning, Trevor!' Trevor croaked lovingly.

Scowling at the clock and muttering unintelligible insults at all things temporal, Neville
headed groggily for the bathroom

Priscilla would only stay with him on Friday and Saturday nights so as not to upset her mum who,
she told him, was still a little “old fashioned” and while she could accept Priscilla's
euphemisms, “sleeping in the spare room” for one night and “staying with a girlfriend” on the other
night, she didn't believe she would be able to come to terms with her little girl *living*
with a man, even when that man was her fiancé, not to mention plain wonderful!

After stripping off his boxers, pulling open the shower screen door and turning the taps on,
waiting to step in until the water was an agreeable temperature, Neville grinned manfully at his
morning erection. `My woman is never around when you need her, is she?' He laughed at his own
joke and then rolled his eyes as he heard Trevor begin his futile serenade of the bedside
clock.

*Silly old bugger!* he thought affectionately as he scrubbed away vigorously, a*t least
my lady loves me back!* *Maybe I should get him a girl toad…*

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

As he walked into his office just over an hour later, Neville found one of his officers, Wayne
Hasluck, sitting in an armchair in front of his desk, intently reading a parchment he was holding
open; he had another sitting in his lap, still rolled up.

`Lucky?'

Neville walked in around his desk, throwing his cape across the back of his chair as he looked
inquiringly at Hasluck.

`Morning, boss,' said Lucky amiably as he got to his feet, rolling up the parchment he'd
been reading. `Just going over the Jugson and Mulciber files again. I'll take them to Sunny if
that's okay - he's going to see Miss Granger this afternoon about their trial.'

`Of course - but we have copies?' asked Neville as he dropped into his chair.

Lucky nodded as he leaned over Neville's desk, holding out his free hand - the other holding
the two parchments - `I'll hang your cape up.' Neville never bothered hanging it on the
hook provided behind his office door and consequently it often ended up creased or even torn
sometimes when it got caught underfoot or underchair. Lucky and Sunny had fallen into the habit of
hanging it up for him.

Neville reached behind him and handed over his cape, commenting on the nice weather that
Maintenance had given them today.

`One of `em must've gotten out of the right side of bed this morning,' chuckled Lucky,
putting Neville's cape on the hook and brushing it to straighten it after picking off some bits
of fluff and stuff. Neville smiled to himself; Lucky and Sunny had become rather proprietary about
their boss and his belongings.

Neville got out his wand and conjured two cups of hot black coffee. He and Lucky drank it the
same way, with two sugars.

`Thanks, boss,' said Lucky as he sat once more, picking up the coffee. `Sunny can wait a few
more minutes.'

They chatted amiably for a while as they drank. Then Neville leaned forward to rest his forearms
on his desk. `I actually have an ulterior motive for giving you coffee,' smiled Neville.
`I've noticed you stopping by Miss Caplo's desk a lot lately - without Sunny. I've been
wondering which one of you she'd end up choosing. So, you won, did you?'

Lucky laughed. `I guess you could say it like that! The best man won!' He winked at
Neville.

`How's Sunny taking it?'

`Well, he's not really too upset, boss. Lila and I sort of hit it off just a little more - I
reckon she appreciates my sense of humour.' Neville rolled his eyes, an amused smile on his
face as Lucky continued, `Besides, Sunny's had a couple of dates lately with a girl from
Transportation - Gillian, um - Wordsley? No… Wordsmith? Yeah, Wordsmith. Nice girl.'

`So everybody's happy, eh?'

`For the moment, boss, for the moment.'

A memo flew in the door at the moment, dropping to land on Neville's desk in front of
him.

Lucky stood up to leave, once again saying thanks for the coffee.

`Strange,' commented Neville quietly.

`What is?' asked Lucky, stopping in the doorway and turning.

`The Head's asking me to go and see Dumbledore this morning. Apparently he's been in
touch with her and wants to see me - something to do with the Malfoys. Wants me there at ten
thirty.' Neville glanced at his watch. `It's nearly ten - I'll have to leave soon.
I'll be able to go straight to lunch with Dumbledore from Hogwarts - we're meeting Harry
and Hermione there.'

Lucky nodded. `Will you be back after lunch?'

`Not sure - but we'll be at the Dragon's Lair in case you need to contact me.'

`No worries, boss. Catch you later.'

After Lucky left, Neville frowned as he reread the memo from Amelia Bones, wondering what on
earth had happened with the Malfoys now. *I'll know soon enough,* he thought, getting up
and retrieving his cloak before heading off to Floo to Hogsmeade from where he'd make his way
to Hogwarts.

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

`Mr Longbottom, so good to see you again,' Dumbledore greeted him from behind his desk,
waving graciously with his hand to indicate Neville should join him in sitting down.

`Thanks, Professor - good to see you again, too.'

Dumbledore waved his hand again, causing two blue mugs, both with three feet and two handles, to
appear on his desk, announcing jovially, `Hot chocolate!'

One of the mugs walked towards the edge of the desk closest to Neville then stopped and hunkered
down. Amused, Neville thanked the Headmaster and picked up his hot chocolate.

The Professor did likewise, taking a sip before looking over the rim of his mug at Neville and
inquiring politely, `What it is you wanted to tell me about the Malfoys?'

A frown creased Neville's brow as he said, `Pardon, sir?' feeling a little confused.

`Mrs Bones told me you wanted to see me urgently - that you had something you needed to tell me
about the Malfoys - whether just one or all of them she didn't say.'

Neville put his mug down. `Sir, I'm a little confused. I received a memo from the Head this
morning informing me *you* had contacted *her* and that *you* asked to see *me*
- something about the Malfoys.'

In an instant, the famous twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes became steely as he simultaneously
placed his mug back on his desk and stood up. `Mr Longbottom, we will leave immediately for the
Ministry. I fear something is amiss.'

Dumbledore Apparated both of them to the door of the Level 2 office of Amelia Bones, Head of the
Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Dumbledore quickly lifted his hand and knocked briskly.

`Come in!'

Neville followed the Professor into his Head's office which had a no-nonsense air about it,
somewhat like its occupant.

`Albus! A pleasant surprise,' said Mrs Bones as she rose to walk from behind her desk to
greet them, `and Neville, good morning. How can I help you, gentlemen?'

`Always a pleasure to see you, Amelia,' replied Dumbledore graciously.

`Morning, Head,' said Neville calmly despite the churning sensation of fear and confusion in
his stomach.

`I think we may have a problem, Amelia. Let's all sit down and have a little talk.'

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

Hermione jumped and squealed with fright as she heard a loud *crack!* right beside her.
Neville grasped her arm and pulled her to him in a protective gesture although as she realised who
had appeared she moved away from Neville, a look of amazement on her face.

`Harry?'

Harry was standing, his whole body tense, his wand poised as though to strike.

`Hermione! Are you all right?' Harry was looking everywhere, his head turning quickly.

`Yes, of course I am! What on earth are you doing here?'

`The Charm was activated - you're in danger!'

`But I'm not! I was just meeting Neville - I just arrived.'

`Harry, there must be something faulty in the Charm. Hermione's not in danger,' said
Neville, looking around nonetheless.

Harry relaxed a little but didn't drop his wand arm.

`Not *obvious* or *visible* danger perhaps, but if the Charm was activated, there is -
or was - danger,' Harry replied tersely. `Why are you *here*, anyway?' he asked,
looking at Hermione, waving his arm to indicate the surrounding park.

Hermione shrugged lightly, turning to look up at Neville. `I received a memo from Neville this
morning to meet him here. He didn't say why and since I just got here we haven't done
anymore than say hello.'

`Neville?' asked Harry, his eyes leaving Hermione and moving to rest on Neville.

Neville shrugged, confusion on his face as he looked between the two of them. `I received a memo
from Hermione this morning asking me to meet her here - she didn't say why.'

`Shit.'

`Harry!' protested Hermione, although she was beginning to feel a little afraid.

`Let's get back to the Ministry - *now!*' ordered Harry, sounding as tense as he
looked, reluctantly putting his wand away to facilitate their journey.

`Don't you dare Apparate into -' began Neville, but it was too late, Harry had stepped
forward and grasped one of Neville's arms, taking Hermione's hand at the same time and
disregarding any Muggles that might be watching, which luckily there weren't, Disapparated the
three of them to Hermione's office.

`Sweet Mother of Merlin, Harry!' shouted Neville as soon as they arrived.

`Sorry, Neville - but we couldn't risk staying there. You were both sent on a wild goose
chase for heaven knows what reason - but it was obviously to get you away from the protection of
the Ministry.'

`Well, I'm going to my office to sort out the bloody mess the Protector Charms will be in
once again. Damn it, Harry - you can't keep doing that!' Neville turned on his heel and
left, Harry and Hermione staring after him as he walked out of her office.

`Not like Neville,' said Hermione, frowning slightly.

Harry shrugged. `Maybe I shouldn't Apparate into the Ministry but I've only done it when
-' he reached out for Hermione, pulling her close and holding her more tightly than usual.
`Well, for emergencies - I'm afraid I don't really stop to think at those times.'

Hermione knew he was thinking about her abduction months before as she laid her head on his
chest, very aware of the sound of his heartbeat which was much faster than normal.

Priscilla appeared in the open doorway looking very confused.

`Harry? Why are you here? What's going on?' she asked. `Neville just walked right past
me - what happened in the park?'

Harry and Hermione parted although Harry kept an arm around Hermione's shoulders as they
walked towards Priscilla on their way out of the office.

`Come with us, Priscilla,' he told her. `I think we should go and see Neville. I'm not
sure what's going on, but it's not good and we need to get to the bottom of it.'

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

Within half an hour of Harry, Hermione and Priscilla being ushered into Amelia Bones'
office, and each one there relating their part of the story, it became clear what had happened.
Dumbledore, standing by the fireplace which was to the left of the Head's large, wooden desk,
looked gravely at Neville.

`Whoever orchestrated this made sure the *real* Neville came to see me, presumably to avoid
any chance of my detecting an impostor, while it was the impostor that you met with in the park
Miss Granger and who was, no doubt, also the source of the Charm being activated.'

`Why?' asked Harry, the instant Dumbledore finished speaking.

Dumbledore's gaze moved to Harry. `They were testing the Charm, Harry. It's the only
logical explanation.'

`But how would they know about the Charm?' demanded Harry.

`Who knows about the Charm?' inquired Mrs Bones.

`The Weasley family, including Dean and Luna…' began Harry.

`…and everyone in this room,' continued Hermione.

`…and I've told only two of my officers, Lucky and Sunny,' finished Neville.

Dumbledore looked from Neville to Amelia Bones. `Then one of those people just mentioned is not
who they seem. I believe they must be using polyjuice potion and the reason they wanted the real
Neville out of his office this morning was because he would've notice something amiss here, in
his Department.'

`So whoever it was that turned themselves into Neville this morning must be someone here in the
Department,' stated the Head, `or *appears* to be someone from this Department,' she
added quickly.

Dumbledore nodded and as he did so, everyone present looked around at each other, confusion and
horror on their faces as they realised that perhaps one of their number was the impostor - that one
of them wasn't truly confused or horrified at all, but silently rejoicing.

`We can only hope, Harry,' said Dumbledore softly, `that your quick response to the Charm
will give this impostor food for thought should they have been considering getting at you by using
Miss Granger. I don't know of any sane witch or wizard, good or bad, who would be prepared to
come up against *you.*'

`They wouldn't want to try,' said Harry, his gaze fixed on Hermione, his voice low and
menacing, promising death for anyone foolish enough to do so.

TO BE CONTINUED…

See you all again on the “other side” of HBP…

xxxx Janie xxxx

-->



11. Chapter Ten
---------------



Author's Note

Well, here it is, `the other side of HBP'… and the less said the better.

First up: Sooooo sorry this update was soooo long in coming folks! Too many reasons to bore you
with.

Once again - great gobs of gratitude to my fabulous beta, Kirsti (especially when she's
extra busy at the moment!) *waves and blows kisses*

Hopefully you're all champing at the bit to find out what happens next so I won't keep
you - read on!

FOUR WEDDINGS & A FUNERAL

By Lady Jane

Chapter Ten

`Oh, they'll try,' Dumbledore assured Harry, `I promise you that.'

Harry looked at the old wizard, frowning.

`But surely, Professor -' he protested, stopping when Dumbledore dropped his chin and gazed
at him over the top of his half-moon spectacles.

Harry sighed resignedly and nodded. `You're right, they will try.' He looked across at
Hermione. `We'll just have to make sure we're on our guard.'

Mrs Bones stood up, drawing all eyes. `Given the circumstances, I think no more should be said
right now. I will obtain some Invenios Elixir for our next meeting which I would like to hold
tomorrow morning, here, at ten o'clock. I'll be owling everyone that is aware of the Cautus
Contego Charm requesting their presence.'

No one present objected and so it was agreed. There was little talk as they began to leave the
Head's office, although Dumbledore indicated to Harry, Hermione and Neville that he still
wished to attend lunch with them.

`You three go ahead and I'll meet you there shortly,' he told them before
Disapparating.

Harry and Hermione both turned and looked expectantly at Neville.

`What?' asked Neville, perplexed at their scrutiny.

Harry crossed his arms. `I don't hear you berating Dumbledore for Apparating through your
Protector Charms.'

Neville rolled his eyes in exasperation. `For the love of Merlin. Harry! Who in his right mind
would tell Albus Dumbledore off for *anything*?'

Hermione laughed. `What can you say to that?'

`I say we Apparate to the Dragon's - '

`Don't even think about doing that Mr Potter!' Amelia Bones' sharp voice bit through
Harry's jocular reply.

Harry's green gaze swiftly sought the Head's. `I wasn't serious, Mrs Bones,' he
said in a quietly apologetic voice.

`Glad to hear it, Mr Potter,' replied the Head, fixing him with an intent look from beneath
her thick eyebrows. `I'm afraid my rather meagre sense of humour tends to evaporate in the face
of certain situations. You must all be constantly vigilant now. I don't believe the full
implications of the current crisis have as yet hit home with everyone involved.'

“Constantly vigilant”? *Constant vigilance!* Harry nodded, managing to suppress the smile
evoked by the memory of Mad Eye Moody's favourite warning.

Neville started to herd his two friends out of his boss's office before they could upset her
any more than she already was. `Come on you two, let's get to the Lair - I could do with a
drink right about now.'

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

On their arrival at the Dragon's Lair, Mr Madomo, the grey haired maitre d', greeted
them effusively and in accordance with their request for a drink whilst waiting for their old
Headmaster to join them, showed them personally to the dimly lit Dragon's Nest - the
restaurant's bar. He then seated them in a comfortable, corner booth, snapping his fingers
vigorously to get the attention of the barman and ensure quick service for them.

They'd ordered a cold Butterbeer each and as Harry raised his glass he said quietly,
`Here's to truth, justice and the Wizarding way,' grinning at his companions as he repeated
one of Neville's favourite toasts.

`Hear, hear,' chorused Hermione and Neville as their three glasses made a soft “chinking”
noise as they touched.

`At least we know that we three are ourselves,' said Hermione, relief evident in her
voice.

`How's that?' inquired Neville.

`Well, the Neville I met in the park was the impostor,' said Hermione earnestly, `and the
three of us -' she indicated herself, Neville and Harry, `- have been together since Harry and
I Apparated back to Mrs Bones' office. So, Neville, we know you are the “real” Neville, firstly
because you're *not* the Neville from the park, you Apparated to Mrs Bones' office
with Dumbledore - and the three of us haven't been out of each other's sight since
then.'

Neville nodded. `You're right, Hermione. And we should have a way of identifying each other
that we don't reveal to anyone else - I won't even tell Priscilla.'

Harry looked at Neville with admiration. `Very good, Neville. What'll we do?'

`What about,' said Hermione, frowning into her Butterbeer, `something only the three of us
would know the answer to?'

`Like, with what, and where, did the three of us last toast truth, justice and the Wizarding
way?' suggested Neville.

`With ice-cold Butterbeer in the Dragon's Nest,' Harry promptly.

`Ice-cold Butterbeer in the Dragon's Nest,' repeated Hermione, `and don't go making
that toast again Neville. You'll have to come up with a new one.'

`So it's done,' said Neville. He grinned at Hermione. `And I'll start working on a
new toast.'

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

`Well?'

That one word, spoken in the cold, indifferent, rasping voice that was now Lucius Malfoy's,
struck fear into the heart of the man to whom it was addressed.

`Master, I was able to see for myself the way that Potter's new charm operates. I used the
Polyjuice Potion to impersonate Longbottom and met the Mudblood in the park.'

`And?'

`It's almost instantaneous. I'd no sooner said hello to her than he was there.' The
man shuddered at the memory - he'd been extremely grateful for his disguise in that park on
seeing the look in Harry's eyes when he'd appeared - there was no doubt he would've
been injured instantly, perhaps killed, if Harry had known it *wasn't* Neville Longbottom
standing next to him.

This pronouncement was met with silence as Lucius Malfoy stared unseeingly at his henchman, lost
in thought.

`Master?' The underling's voice was uncertain and not a little afraid.

Malfoy's icy gaze focused on the man before him. `There has to be a flaw - something they
haven't thought of.'

The henchman shuddered. `What's left? The instant she's endangered he's able to
Apparate to her side without even knowing where she is! We can't be certain what he's
capable of once he gets there…'

There was a brief, cold, harsh sound that the henchman realised was his Master's laugh. `I
know far more than you do about what Potter's capable of doing,' sneered Malfoy.

The henchman nodded hastily. `Of course, Master,' he replied soothingly, fearing
retribution.

`There's no problem without a solution, Nott. It simply means we must lead the Mudblood
astray without actually placing her in any danger until it's too late. Potter is not
infallible.' He paused, his cold glance coming to rest on his underling. `You still have plenty
of Polyjuice Potion available?'

Nott nodded vigorously.

`Good. Listen carefully - this is what you shall do…'

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

Lucius Malfoy's son, at that same moment, was helping Lucius Malfoy's wife to eat her
lunch.

`Mother, please, just a little more…'

Narcissa Black Malfoy shook her head with determination.

`No thank you, Draco. I do not wish to eat anymore.'

Draco dropped the spoon back into the bowl of lukewarm soup, his shoulders dropping in
defeat.

His mother sat across from him, stiffly upright and staring fixedly out the window at what,
Draco didn't know.

`I want to go home,' stated Narcissa Malfoy flatly. `Now.'

Unsurprised, Draco lifted his gaze to see the determined look in his mother's eyes, eyes
that were now sunken with dark smudges underlining them. Ever since he'd given her back the
glass roses, his mother had had a few moments where she seemed a little more clear-minded, although
to Draco's despair, she remained frustratingly adamant about not eating properly and she still
didn't sleep well. She was now painfully thin and appeared frail and weak. He stood abruptly,
picking up the bowl of soup and moving to the sink.

`We can't,' he told her firmly as he rinsed the soup from the bowl before washing
it.

`Are we prisoners here, then?'

Picking up a tea towel, he began to dry the now clean bowl and spoon.

`We're here for our own protection.'

`Protection from what?'

Draco returned to sit with his mother before answering her.

`From Lucius Malfoy.'

`From Lucius? Why would either you or I need protection from Lucius?'

Draco sighed. They'd had this conversation everyday for some time now but only he seemed to
remember it. It was as though his mother's memory was reset at some point during each
night.

`He's no longer truly himself, Mother. He sees me as a traitor and - well, he no longer
considers you to be his wife.'

The look of confusion and hurt that now entered his mother's eyes still made Draco's
heart ache, no matter how many times he saw it.

`I don't understand…' her voice trailed off and she stood slowly, moving mechanically as
she walked with great effort the short distance to her small bedroom where he knew she would simply
lie down on top of the covers and stare at the ceiling; he didn't know when or if she slept.
He'd made attempts to get her up again many times but once she'd retired to her room,
sometimes after lunch, sometimes after dinner, she simply didn't seem to hear him any longer -
she didn't respond to anything he said or did. He sighed. Once again, he would go in that
evening and put a blanket on her, to keep her warm.

As he sat down with a bowl of soup for his own lunch, his thoughts turned to his appointment
with Dumbledore the following day; he was hoping the old wizard had found a way to help his
mother.

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

Mr Madomo waited in the Arrival Room of the Dragon's Lair, hiding his impatience well. He
couldn't wait to greet Albus Dumbledore and almost lost his legendary self-possession when the
old wizard did appear.

`Professor Dumbledore, sir, please, it's such an honour - please follow me - such an
honour!'

Dumbledore smiled at the wide-eyed maitre d'. `I'm looking forward to sampling your
famous fare,' he told him as he followed the short, slight man through the restaurant, drawing
discreet stares and muted gasps from those who saw him. When Harry, Hermione and Neville spotted
him they all stood, smiling in welcome.

`I think we should go to our table, now,' said Harry to Mr Madomo who nodded, a huge smile
on his face.

Once seated and their food ordered, Dumbledore looked at each of his former pupils in turn.

`How do you know I am, in fact, Albus Dumbledore?' he asked.

`Abscondo,' said Harry quietly.

`Aperio,' replied Dumbledore. `Excellent Harry, you remembered.'

Hermione and Neville both looked a little puzzled.

`I arranged this quaint little method of identification with Harry many years ago now,'
explained Dumbledore, `before he left Hogwarts. Of course, it works both ways in case I ever needed
to make sure Harry was, in fact, Harry.'

`How can we make certain of everyone else?' asked Hermione.

`You recall Madam Bones saying she would bring some Invenios Elixir to our meeting tomorrow
morning?' asked the professor. Hermione nodded as he continued, `Each of us will need to drink
some. It has no effect on anyone except those who are using Polyjuice Potion.'

Neville was frowning thoughtfully. `I remember reading about it in our manual back during
training, although I've never had to use it.'

`Things are different now, I think,' said Dumbledore solemnly.

`What does it do to someone who's using Polyjuice Potion?' asked Harry.

`It negates the effects of it, they return to their own form,' Dumbledore told him.

`Perhaps we should all carry some,' mused Harry.

`I'm going to arrange it as soon as possible,' Neville said firmly.

`Good!' remarked Dumbledore. `Now, the reason I wanted to speak to you concerns Lucius
Malfoy.'

The three friends immediately tensed, their unblinking gazes fixed on their former
Headmaster.

`I engaged the help of the portraits of my colleagues a few weeks ago and I can now tell you
that Lucius Malfoy is currently residing once more in Malfoy Manor, despite the fact the
Malfoy's property was officially confiscated. Of course, he has made it appear as though the
place is empty to any observers and is impervious to entry as naturally he has the usual charms in
place. Not that anyone's attempting to enter - it's not visible to Muggles and it repels
any witches or wizards. Only this morning Phineas Nigellus informed me that one of Voldemort's
former Death Eaters, Nott, was reporting to Malfoy and while he couldn't hear everything
properly as he had to hide out of sight in the closest painting, he heard mention of Polyjuice
Potion and the incident in the park this morning so I'm sure our assumptions are quite
right'

Harry felt ice cold tendrils curling around his heart. Lucius Malfoy was looking for a way to
get to Hermione, he was certain.

`Anything else?' asked Neville tersely.

`Not much else, I'm afraid, as it is rather difficult for Phineas to eavesdrop. If he's
caught, Malfoy will no doubt remove the paintings and then we'd really be in the dark. He did
think he heard mention of the Death Eater that's being held in the Ministry, Jugson.'

`If it's Nott that's the impostor, he must be taking someone's place at the Ministry
on a regular basis - perhaps every day - to keep up with things,' said Harry.

Neville nodded. `He's taken the place of someone although we don't know how long ago he
started. What worries me is the well being of whoever he's replaced.'

`They'd have to be kept alive at least,' said Hermione worriedly. `Otherwise, it
wouldn't be possible for their hair to be used for the Polyjuice Potion - it has to come from a
living person.'

Dumbledore nodded. `Indeed Miss Granger, that is our only hope. They're not keeping this
person at Malfoy Manor, Phineas assures me. I'm hoping we will find out more at our meeting
with Madam Bones tomorrow morning.'

At that moment, Mr Madomo appeared, beaming, having escorted the waiters to the table to present
their food.

Dumbledore smiled with delight and thanked Mr Madomo generously, causing the maitre d' to
actually blush.

Picking up his knife and fork, the Professor looked around the table, his blue eyes twinkling
merrily as he spoke. `As I'm sure your compatriot, Mr Weasley, would say if he were here: Two,
four, six, eight, dig in, don't wait!'

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

At three thirty that afternoon, Priscilla ushered David Sunningfield into Hermione's
office.

His tall, lean frame made Hermione feel a little dwarfed as he leaned across her desk, his hand
out. Hermione quickly stood to greet him, shaking the proffered hand.

`Afternoon, Miss Granger. Good to see you again!'

After briefly shaking hands, Hermione gave him a quick smile. `And you, Mr
Sunningfield.'

He rolled his eyes and groaned lightly. `*Please!* Call me “Sunny”!'

Hermione smiled again and nodded. `Sunny it is!' she told him*. Surely*, she thought to
herself, *he couldn't be the impostor!* *Had Neville even told him about the meeting
that morning?* she wondered. *Does he know we're all under suspicion?* Hermione sighed.
This whole business was really tiresome.

`Rightio, Miss Granger, let's get down to business, eh?'

Half an hour later, Hermione had reluctantly relived her kidnapping while Sunny made copious
notes. When they finished, Sunny congratulated her.

`You did really well, Miss Granger, you have a good memory and an eye for detail,' he told
her, admiration in his voice. `It's unfortunate that Mulciber is being held in St Mungo's -
we're not sure whether he'll be able to stand trial. But Jugson will.'

`What's wrong with Mulciber?' asked Hermione; she'd heard one of her kidnappers was
in St Mungo's.

Sunny looked uncomfortable. `Well, I'm not sure it's my place to discuss that, I'm
sorry, Miss Granger. I think my boss could tell you - you should ask him.'

`I will,' said Hermione, now very curious about the matter.

`Miss Granger?' Sunny's voice was distinctly hesitant.

`Yes?'

`I - well - could I ask you something?'

`Of course.' Hermione felt intrigued by the change in Sunny's demeanour. He'd become
very uncertain and seemed very unsure of himself.

`What would you do - I mean, would you - well, if a close friend of yours seemed to change - a
*lot* -'

`Why are you asking me this?' asked Hermione softly.

`I probably sound a little crazy - but I'm not exactly sure I can trust the other people in
my department - things have been rather strange over there lately.'

Hermione stiffened in her seat. `Has Neville spoken to you today?'

Sunny shook his head. `I haven't seen the boss today. I did get an owl from the Head about a
meeting tomorrow morning in her office and something about Invenios Elixir. All rather
strange.'

`When you say a close friend of yours has changed - do you mean Wayne Hasluck - Lucky?'

Sunny nodded, his expression miserable. `Ever since he's been going out with Lila. I guess
about three or four weeks now. Mind you, here at work he seems all right. It's just that when I
see him outside work - well, I guess it's just I don't anymore. He's sort of cut me
right off. Not like Lucky at all.'

`Well,' said Hermione kindly, `he's probably very wrapped up in Lila right now - are you
sure it's not just that he's spending all his time with her and you feel, perhaps, a little
left out?'

Sunny shrugged. `I thought about that, Miss Granger, I really did. And there's a lot of that
in it I'm sure - but I still just have this *feeling,* you know. I just can't put my
finger on it.'

Hermione studied him thoughtfully for a moment, then made a decision.

`Sunny, I want you to stay right here in my office - don't leave. I'm going to get
Neville and come back here with him.' Hermione walked to the door and turned to look at Sunny
once more as he sat looking dismayed and a little stunned. `Don't leave, all right?'

Sunny nodded. `I won't leave.'

When Hermione had left, closing the door behind her, Sunny slumped in his seat, his head
dropping. He rubbed his forehead feeling a headache coming on and wondered what the hell was going
on, whether he was imagining things and wishing he could wake up and find this all just a bad
dream.

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

Throughout the day, each of the people who knew about the Cautus Contego Charm had received an
owl from Madam Bones in her official capacity notifying them of the meeting in her office the
following morning and advising them they would need to drink some Invenios Elixir before the
meeting could proceed. She also advised anyone with a partner who knew of the Charm, that it would
prudent for them to arrange their own private recognition signal.

That evening saw Harry and Hermione sitting in thoughtful silence before their fireplace. They
had assumed their customary positions - Harry sitting with his legs stretched out in front of him
and crossed at the ankles, one hand behind his head, his left resting on Hermione's clasped
hands atop her midriff; she was lying with her head in Harry's lap.

Hermione had told Harry about David Sunningfield's visit that afternoon and that when she
and Neville had returned to her office, they'd given Sunny some Invenios Elixir. He was
definitely Sunny. Neville had then filled him in on what had occurred that morning and told him to
trust no one, but to do his best to act “normally”.

`So Lucky isn't really Lucky? I'm not going crazy?' Sunny had felt relief sweep
through him.

`Well, we can't be absolutely certain just yet, but in the current circumstances it
definitely sounds as though something is amiss,' Neville had told him, dread trickling through
him as he thought of his chat with Lucky - or who he'd believed was Lucky - only that morning.
How he hoped they were wrong about this.

Hermione looked up at Harry and sighed. `Poor Neville - a traitor right in his midst!'

Harry gently squeezed Hermione's hands. `You've had quite a day, haven't
you?'

Hermione smiled up at him. `We all have. You too.'

Harry returned her smile, lifting his hand and gently tracing the outline of her face

`Hermione?'

`Hmm?'

`I've been thinking about our own signal, what we should have.' Hermione frowned up at
Harry as he spoke.

`As if I wouldn't know *you*!' she exclaimed, half in jest.

Harry looked down at her, his gaze serious. Hermione rolled her eyes. `All right. Yes, a signal.
I know you're right. It's just that it feels sort of melodramatic.'

Harry smiled. `I've got the perfect thing,' he told her. `What do you think of…'

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

The following morning at five minutes past ten, the office of the Head of the Department of
Magical Law Enforcement found itself *extremely* crowded and not a little noisy. The last to
arrive were Fred and George Weasley, both sporting bright yellow dragonskin jackets, causing Ron to
lean towards Harry and Hermione, commenting under his breath, `I swear those two are colour
blind!'

As Ron finished speaking and Harry and Hermione chuckled, a clear, bell-like tone chimed,
immediately silencing everyone.

`Good morning, everyone,' announced Madam Bones from behind her desk where she stood,
looking authoritatively around the room. `Please, be seated.'

Everyone moved towards the large desk and sat in the armchairs ranged in two semi-circular rows
facing the Head's desk.

`Now,' continued the Head, `we partake of the Invenios Elixir.'

All eyes dropped to the small glasses sitting on a tray on the Head's desk; there were
nineteen of them in all. Madam Bones picked up a glass and drained it. Then Professor Dumbledore
stepped forward and did the same. And so it went…Molly and Arthur Weasley, Bill and Fleur, Charlie,
Fred and George, Ron and Luna, Ginny and Dean, Harry and Hermione, Neville and Priscilla…then as
Lucky and Sunny stood to take their turn someone began knocking frantically on the Head's door,
the door opening suddenly as Lila Caplo rushed into the room looking scared but determined as her
eyes sought Neville. When she spotted him she walked towards him, stumbling a little.

`Sir! I'm so sorry to interrupt but one of the Aurors just arrived and he says that someone
has broken into the cells and that the Death Eater, Jugson, is missing - he's escaped!'

Neville could see officers running past the now open door and glancing quickly at his boss,
turned and almost ran from the office when she gave him a brief nod, Lila right behind him with
Sunny and Lucky close on their heels.

`I'm afraid, everyone, that we'll have to reschedule this meeting, obviously,' said
Madam Bones

wearily. `I would like you all back here at three this afternoon.'

As Harry, Hermione and Priscilla made their way back to Hermione's department, Harry
exchanged a slightly exasperated look with Hermione. She knew he was thinking the same thing: of
all the people in that office that morning, the *one* person they wanted to take the Elixir
more than any of the others had not done so. They waited until they were seated in Hermione's
office, alone, before discussing it, Priscilla returning to her own desk and the work that awaited
her.

Hermione had, out of habit, taken her seat behind her desk, causing Harry a measure of
amusement. As he sat down opposite her, smiling indulgently, Hermione realised why and quickly
jumped up to join Harry on the other side of her desk, sitting herself on his lap, a cheeky grin in
place.

`Much better, Miss Granger!'

Hermione laughed, her arms loosely encircling Harry's neck. `I don't do this for just
anyone, you know,' she told him.

`I should hope not! I expect special privileges, you know.' Then he gently pulled her closer
and kissed her, slowly and seductively. Hermione marvelled again at the effect he had on her as she
felt her whole body respond to him and wishing they were anywhere and anywhen else.

Pulling back reluctantly, Hermione sighed as she forced herself to return to reality.

`Damn it Harry! You can make me forget anything!'

Harry smiled smugly. `As it should be!'

Hermione couldn't help but laugh as she removed herself from his lap. `I think it's
better that I do sit behind my desk - far less distracting at any rate!'

As she sat in her chair and her eyes met Harry's, they both fell silent, their expressions
becoming solemn.

`Now we'll have to wait until this afternoon to know for sure about Hasluck,' said Harry
tersely. `Which I don't really like - it gives him almost a whole day to come up with
something. And Jugson escaping - if Nott-as-Hasluck was in the Head's office, who was helping
Jugson?'

`Do we know how many Death Eaters were left at large?' asked Hermione. `It has to be one of
them. If Nott is reporting to Malfoy senior, there are probably others that have rallied to him
since Voldemort's demise.'

Harry felt a familiar blackness being to descend on him as he was once again faced with memories
of his final battle with Voldemort. Out of habit, he pushed them aside, refusing to dwell on them
as he said, `Not many Death Eaters were left - but no doubt enough of them for Malfoy's
purposes. It sounds as though he's attempting to set himself up as the next Voldemort and the
last of the Death Eaters have rallied around him.'

`Which he isn't. Nor will he ever be, whatever he thinks,' remarked Hermione
caustically.

`Amen,' said Harry as he stood up suddenly. `Let's get out of here. Let's go have
morning tea together somewhere.'

Sensing Harry's need to be alone with her - just *be* with her, Hermione agreed
immediately. Although neither of them had said it aloud, Hermione knew what was on Harry's
mind: Lucius Malfoy was more than likely planning to use her to get to Harry.

They Flooed to Esca, the Wizarding café, taking a table in a quiet corner rather than in the
sun-filled, central courtyard. After ordering their coffees, Harry reached across the small, square
table and took Hermione's hands in his.

`I'm afraid,' he said simply, looking down at their clasped hands, watching as he gently
ran his thumbs back and forth across her soft skin.

`I know,' she replied. `Harry?' When he lifted his eyes to hers, she continued, `I have
to say that I'm now glad about the charm - if only because it should help give you some peace
of mind knowing you can get to me instantly. I hate to see you so - so -
*distressed*.'

Harry nodded. `The charm helps. But the only thing that can completely guarantee you're safe
is Malfoy's capture.' Harry's green gaze hardened. `I want to get my hands on him so
badly!'

`It's going to be a lot harder to trick me a second time,' Hermione tried to assure
him.

`I want to stay with you every minute of every day…' said Harry in a low, tense voice.

Hermione sighed, squeezing Harry's hands, trying desperately to transmit some sort of
reassurance.

At that moment, their coffees arrived and they both sat back. As the waitress, a young, pretty
witch with long blonde hair, placed their cups before them she smiled shyly at Harry, obviously
recognising him. Fumbling in her pocket she produced a small piece of parchment and short
quill.

`Would you mind awfully signing this for me?' she asked hesitantly. `I mean, if it's not
too much trouble - I understand if -'

One look at the expression Harry's face and Hermione quickly dropped her head, picking up
her spoon and stirring her coffee and doing her darndest *not* to laugh.

She heard Harry mumble something along the lines of, `No trouble at all,' followed by the
sound of quill on parchment.

With a rather breathless, `Thank you!' the waitress left and Harry spoke, his voice low,
`Hermione, if you so much as *smile* I'll -'

With great difficulty, Hermione looked up at Harry straight faced…for a full five seconds. Then
she burst out laughing.

Harry groaned. `It's not funny! It's excruciatingly embarrassing!'

`Poor Harry! Oh, I'm sorry - I just couldn't help but laugh,' Hermione reached
across the table and took Harry's hand. `You know, you look sexy even when you're
embarrassed,' she told him.

`Slight compensation,' smiled Harry. Then he sighed. `I suppose you have to go back to work,
don't you? No chance of coming home with me until this afternoon's meeting?'

`Sadly, no. Will you come to my office first and we'll go to the meeting together?'

Harry nodded. `Of course. I'll be there around half past two, quarter to three.

They both drained their cups and Harry stood, holding out his hand to Hermione.

In that small space of time, Hermione found herself remembering so many other times that Harry
had done exactly this same thing - a jumble of images tumbled over each other in her mind… the time
when Harry had first come to stay with her and they'd been at Florean Fortescue's -
she'd taken his outstretched hand and his touch had set her heart racing… then at her flat
after dinner one night, he once again offered her his hand and had lead her into the loungeroom…
and of course, *the* night - when Harry had asked her if she only saw him “just as friend, now
and forever” and she'd barely managed to shake her head in reply before he'd Apparated them
to the Dragon's Lair where later he'd stood once again and held out his hand to her,
effectively leading her to a new life in which she and Harry were together...

`Hermione?'

Hermione blinked and gently shook her head as she took Harry's hand and stood up. She
squeezed his hand tightly as she leaned against him. `Just some memories taking me by
surprise,' she murmured.

`Good ones, I hope,' said Harry, putting his arm around her shoulders and leading her to the
fireplace.

`Oh, yes,' said Hermione softly, `good ones, definitely.'

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

Hermione dropped her quill and leaned back in her chair, stretching her arms above her head
before dropping them to massage the stiff muscles in the back of her neck. Harry chose that moment
to appear in her office doorway and she gave a startled gasp.

`You are in need of a little break, I think ', he said as he walked in, closing the door
behind him, a mere ghost of a smile playing about his mouth.

Hermione rose slowly from her chair, walking around her desk to be met with an enveloping hug
from Harry. Wrapping her arms around him, Hermione sighed happily. `You're early,' she
murmured.

`Hmmm - sit at home alone, nothing much to do - or come and spend time with my beautiful
fiancée. Wasn't an easy decision, I can tell you.' Despite the light remark, Harry's
voice was tense. Hermione thought perhaps “nothing much to do” constituted sitting around worrying
about the current situation - in particular, his fears for her safety.

Despite her thoughts, Hermione laughed lightly, then looked up at Harry, a happy smile on her
face. `An excellent choice, Mr Potter,' she told him in a mock-prim and proper tone.

Harry didn't say anything in reply - he simply looked at her, his gaze intense; Hermione
found she couldn't tear her eyes from Harry's - those green depths holding an array of
emotions - she saw fear, love, tenderness, desire, desperation…

`Harry?' A whisper.

Harry's voice when he spoke was hoarse with feeling. `Hermione, you can't know how much
I love you, how important - *necessary* - you are to me, how much I need you.' Their eyes
were locked, unblinking. Hermione's whole body seemed to tingle.

`It's the same for me, too,' she told him softly.

`No.' Harry's tone was adamant. `If something happened to me, you would be devastated, I
know, but eventually you'd move on. Without you, I couldn't go on. I wouldn't want
to.'

Hermione felt her heart hammering in her chest as she shook her head mutely. She struggled to
speak, barely managing a whisper, `You would go on too, eventually.'

Harry didn't answer. At least not with words. He dropped his head very slowly without losing
eye contact and when their lips were almost touching he spoke, his voice barely audible although
rough with emotion, `I would have no life worth living without you Hermione.' Then her lips
were crushed beneath his and Hermione was helpless - only able to respond as she always did to this
man who was almost hurting her he was holding her so tightly. Hermione felt almost dizzy as
Harry's kissing became more demanding, his tongue thrusting into her mouth; the male hardness
pressing into her stomach leaving her in no doubt as to what he wanted. *Her.* *Now.*

Then Harry was kissing her closed eyes, her cheeks, her neck - over and over again - murmuring
her name as he did so. Harry's need seemed akin to primal lust - leaving Hermione breathless
with a mixture of fear and desire.

`Harry - please, Harry -' Hermione ineffectually pushed against Harry's chest, but he
was far too strong for her.

`Harry!' her voice was a little stronger this time and seemed to reach him. He straightened,
lifting his hands to frame her face, his breathe rasping in his throat. `I'm sorry - I guess I
got carried away.'

`A slight understatement,' said Hermione softly, still feeling a little shaky from the
overwhelming display of passion and raw emotion.

With his hands still tenderly around her face, Harry gave her a wan smile. `I think I had
something in the way of a panic attack, sitting at home, going over the time you were kidnapped and
imagining Lucius Malfoy getting hold of you - ' Harry shuddered, his eyes closing. He dropped
his hands to Hermione's waist and slowly pulled her to him, laying his cheek against the
softness of her hair, inhaling her fragrance. Hermione wrapped her arms around Harry, tears welling
in her eyes. She felt more afraid for him than she did for herself and vowed she'd do
everything necessary to ensure he wasn't hurt.

Not too much later, at a quarter to three, a more composed Harry and Hermione were making their
way to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement once again, together with Priscilla. When they
arrived, they found the only person to arrive before them was Professor Dumbledore; within ten
minutes though, the same group from that morning was assembled once more and once more, there were
nineteen small glasses of blue tinged Invenios Elixir reposing on a tray on the Head's desk. As
everyone seated themselves on hearing the chime, Madam Bones looked at Neville and gestured for him
to stand.

`Would you mind, Neville, giving everyone a brief report on this morning's incident; I think
most of them will be a little curious.'

`Certainly, Head,' replied Neville as all eyes in the room turned to him.

`As you heard this morning,' he began, `Miss Caplo from my Department announced in a rather
dramatic fashion that Jugson, the Death Eater being held for the kidnap of Hermione, had
escaped.' Neville paused, taking a deep breath. `Unfortunately, it's true.'

Hermione felt Harry tense beside her and felt her own stomach clench at this news. For a second,
everyone looked at Hermione until Neville began speaking again.

`The Auror who made the discovery was actually going down to the cells to interview another
prisoner altogether. He found the guards and the other three prisoners all Stupefied and the door
to Jugson's cell was open, and empty. We've done a thorough check and no one saw anyone
that didn't belong in the Ministry. We can only surmise that Polyjuice Potion has once again
been employed in an unscrupulous manner.'

`What about -' began Harry.

Neville gave Harry a wry smile. `Oh yes, I checked the Protector Charms, Harry - all still
intact. Whoever it was, left by the normal means.' His quick glance at Professor Dumbledore
told Harry Neville had repaired the Charms after the Professor had Apparated into the Ministry the
day before and then Harry had Apparated himself, Hermione and someone he'd believed to be
Neville into Hermione's office almost immediately afterwards.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled and he said to Neville, `I must apologise for any problems caused
by my hasty departure, Mr Longbottom. I can assure you I won't do it again unless absolutely
necessary.'

Madam Bones, who had remained standing while Neville spoke, now cleared her throat.

`Thank you, Neville. Now, back to business everyone. Once again, we will each drink a measure of
Invenios Elixir.' So saying, she picked up one of the small glasses and drained it.

As each of them filed past the large desk, the tense silence seemed to thicken by the second.
Everyone was trying hard not to appear as though they were watching each other - no one was really
terribly successful however.

Once again, Sunny, followed by Lucky, were the last two to pick up a glass. They gave no sign
that they were aware of seventeen pairs of eyes boring into them as they drank.

They drained their glasses simultaneously and replaced them back on the desk. Then a collective
gasp was heard around the room…

TO BE CONTINUED

Author's Note

I'm sure you'll all be glad to hear I've already started Chapter Eleven - I'm
back in the swing!

xxxx Janie xxxx

-->



12. Four Weddings & A Funeral - Chapter Eleven
----------------------------------------------



Author's Note

Happy reading! (By the way - while I am ignoring the events in HBP for the duration of this
story, I have made a couple of small allusions to some events from it which you may or may not
notice.)

FOUR WEDDINGS & A FUNERAL

By Lady Jane

Chapter Eleven

*They drained their glasses simultaneously and* *put* *them back on the desk. Then a
collective gasp was heard around the room…*

Because Sunny stayed Sunny and Lucky stayed Lucky.

Most faces held confusion, including Sunny's; everyone had expected one of their number to
be revealed as the impostor, so what did this mean? It was only Professor Dumbledore, Neville,
Harry and Hermione who shared quick glances filled with dread - because they alone realised what it
meant to have been proven wrong.

Dumbledore leaned down and whispered something in Madam Bones' ear, then once again the
chime sounded and silence fell.

`Please, everyone, it's all right,' announced the Head. `Despite the fact that we
expected a different result from this meeting, the Department will endeavour to deal with this
quickly and efficiently. I urge you all to maintain your normal routines at both work and home
whilst taking precautions at the same time to ensure the identity of those closest to you. And
please refrain from discussing this matter with anyone unless you are completely positive about
their identity.'

Neville stood up then and made his way to the front, carrying a large, black leather pouch.

`Neville is going to give each of you a phial of Invenios Elixir. Keep it with you at all times
and use it as necessary. I don't believe anyone should resent having to take it if asked if
they are who they appear to be. When you need more, come personally to see me or Neville.'

Neville pulled open the drawstring on the pouch and began handing out small, blue phials as each
person came up to him. As each received their phial, they left, talking quietly and comfortably
amongst themselves only because they knew, at least for the time being, they were all who they
appeared to be; once they separated, they could no longer be so sure when they next met. Neville
was reassuring Priscilla in low tones, seeing her off before returning to stand with Harry and
Hermione in front of the Head's desk. The three of them, who had remained behind at the
professor's request, waited until the door closed behind the last person to leave before
speaking.

`Please,' said Madam Bones as she took her own chair, `all of you, sit down.'

They did so, although Professor Dumbledore chose to remain standing to the left of the desk near
the fireplace; he waited until he had everyone's attention, then spoke.

`It appears we were wrong, which pains me and not for the fact of being wrong, but that this
means we have lost time while those involved in wrongdoing have gained that time. It would appear
that the impostor has not taken one particular person's place here in the Ministry, but is
simply impersonating whoever may be necessary to accomplish their goals. Would you agree?'

He looked around at all of them, including the Head, as they nodded, murmuring assent.

`What are we going to do?' asked Harry, his voice tense.

The old wizard sighed. `I'm afraid, Harry, there's not a lot we *can* do at this
point, aside from each of us being on our guard *all* the time. Being sure of each other's
identity is going to have to become our first priority and second nature.'

`Whoever's doing this must have a stockpile of people's hair - or similar - to be able
to do it,' said Hermione thoughtfully.

For some reason, Hermione's words caused an image to flash into Neville's mind - of
Lucky, in his office the previous morning - hanging up his cloak - picking lint off it - and
perhaps hairs? But then, Lucky had just been proven to be Lucky. `Dear Merlin!' he suddenly
exclaimed.

`Yes, Mr Longbottom?' inquired Dumbledore.

Neville told them what he'd just remembered, adding, `But I've just realised - while he
may have been Lucky this afternoon - it doesn't mean that was Lucky in my office yesterday
morning.'

`Precisely, unfortunately,' came Madam Bones' clipped tones. `Such a possibility is
something we all need to be constantly aware of from now on.'

`I think,' said Dumbledore quietly, `we should agree to a signal, here and now, between the
five of us. Harry, our old signal of “abscondo/aperio” will do, I think, as only we here know of
it. When it is necessary to check the identity of any of us in this room, one simply says
“abscondo” and the other is to reply with “aperio”.'

Everyone agreed, although Hermione felt compelled to ask what the words mean.

Dumbledore smiled indulgently at Hermione over his spectacles. `They're Latin words, Miss
Granger. “Abscondo” means to hide or conceal, “aperio” means to reveal or make clear.'

`Rather appropriate I guess,' replied Hermione, returning the professor's smile.

Neville stood up. `All right, everyone - I really need to get back to my office.'

`Me too,' said Hermione as she and Harry both stood together, Harry saying he'd walk
back with her.

As they stepped out of the Head's office and Neville pulled the door closed behind them,
Hermione remembered something.

`Neville - I asked Sunny about that Death Eater, Mulciber - as to why he's in St Mungo's
- and he told me I should ask *you.* So what's wrong with him?'

Neville suddenly looked uncomfortable, giving Harry a quick glance; Harry's expression was a
mixture of puzzlement and interest.

`Well, apparently that night that we captured them - you remember?' he asked unnecessarily,
`It appears that whatever spell you hit them with, Harry, seems to have left permanent after
effects on Mulciber. For reasons we can't fathom, Jugson hasn't been affected but Mulciber
- well, he's not himself.'

Both Harry and Hermione stared back at Neville when he'd finished speaking.

`Not himself?' repeated Harry. `What does that mean?'

Neville shrugged. `He's alive. But he's wildly inconsistent - one day he'll appear
almost normal - almost, but not quite - the next day he won't utter a single word and he flies
into rages for no reason…'

Hermione had unthinkingly moved closer to Harry, taking his hand in silent support.

`And I did that?' he asked incredulously.

`Well, that's the Healer's thoughts when I spoke to her - there doesn't seem to be
any other explanation. He was actually all right the night of his capture but he began to worsen
from the next day onwards. Jugson was petrified of being in the same room with him although
actually I think he was more terrified that the same fate awaited him.'

Harry looked stunned. `I did that?' he repeated. He glanced down at Hermione, his eyes full
of painful uncertainty.

Neville grasped Harry's arm reassuringly. `Harry, if it was the spell you used on him,
it's not as though you cast it intending to do this, you were under tremendous strain at that
point -' his eyes flicked momentarily to Hermione who was listening avidly, `and no one would
ever blame you.'

`What spell was it?' Hermione asked Harry softly.

Harry shrugged, shaking his head. `I don't know,' he replied, `I don't
remember.' *Not a night I want to remember,* he thought to himself.

Neville, who was still grasping Harry's arm, squeezed gently then let go.

`It's all right, Harry. He'd've ended up in Azkaban at any rate, which would be no
better than his current condition - worse, probably.'

Harry nodded, still looking slightly aghast at what he'd inadvertently done. Hermione wished
she'd asked Neville when Harry wasn't around. *But then, I'd've had to tell him,
anyway,* she thought. *Better it comes from Neville who knows a little more about it.*

`Come on, Harry, let's go,' she said, tugging on his hand. `Thanks Neville.'

Neville gave her a small smile, though his tone was serious. `Don't worry about a bloody
Death Eater - just worry about yourselves,' he said.

Almost two weeks later, on a cool October Monday morning, Harry and Hermione were sitting in a
crowded Courtroom Ten, deep beneath the Ministry of Magic. The crowd was mainly due to the fact
that this trial involved one of the Death Eaters who had kidnapped Hermione and knowing she'd
be present, they were hoping that Harry would also be there, which of course he was. He and
Hermione sat in the last, highest row and Harry assiduously avoided making eye contact with any of
the curious wizards and witches who kept looking up at him, some surreptitiously (or so they
thought), some simply staring at him outright; instead, he concentrated on his conversation with
Hermione.

`It's certainly very different from the last time I was here,' Harry said quietly to
Hermione, alluding to the hearing he'd had to attend in his fifth year at Hogwarts. The
Ministry had recently refurbished the whole of Level Ten, ensuring it was also accessible using the
lifts, but the biggest improvement was the addition of enchanted windows, even in the courtrooms
themselves. Magical Maintenance, however, seemed to feel that sombreness was nevertheless required
in courtrooms if the vista of overcast, empty countryside was anything to go on.

The dark stone walls had been painted a stern white and while the torches in brackets remained,
they'd doubled in number so that the old dungeon was fully lit. Comfortable cushioning had been
placed on the benches and the accused no longer had to sit in a chair with chains. Rather, they now
stood in something similar to the Muggle stand, facing the panel of wizards and witches who would
interrogate, judge and sentence them as well as anyone else sitting in the tiered seating behind
the panel.

Harry and Hermione watched as the Head of Magical Law Enforcement strode into the courtroom, six
other witches and wizards in her wake, and took their seats in the front row, facing the stand
which now contained a very nervous Jugson, flanked on either side by two stony-faced Hit Wizards.
Hermione thought it would be rather unnerving to stand there, the focus of every eye in the room;
she glanced sideways at Harry, wondering again at his courage in this same situation all those
years ago, although with much darker undertones running through the proceedings then - and he'd
only been fifteen…

The proceedings took no longer than an hour; Amelia Bones had presided in lieu of the Minster
for Magic (who was, it was whispered, enjoying a rather sumptuous holiday and wasn't tempted to
interrupt it for a mere trial…) and she, with six other officials of the Ministry, questioned
Jugson who appeared relieved to finally have his incarceration in the Ministry's cells at an
end.

At the close of proceedings, Harry turned to Hermione and whispered as Jugson was led away,
`He'll think the Ministry was paradise compared to Azkaban, even without the Dementors being
there.' Jugson had been sentenced to twenty years' imprisonment in Azkaban, a term he knew
he'd have to be extremely lucky to survive.

As they began to make their way out of the courtroom, Neville, who'd been sitting in the row
behind his Head, waved to them. Harry and Hermione walked up to him, all three of them smiling.

`Abscondo,' said Harry softly.

`Aperio,' replied Neville, just as softly.

`Neville,' asked Hermione, `have you heard anymore about - anything?'

Neville shook his head. `No. I don't know whether Malfoy is just lying low or whether this
is just a natural lull in his operation whilst they gather information - or whether they're
waiting for a particular time or event.' He sighed. `It's bloody unnerving. I feel as
though I'm walking around in a den of sleeping dragons.'

`Listen, why don't we all get together this Friday?' suggested Hermione. `I think we
should all have a night of - well, just enjoying ourselves and *not* thinking about this whole
situation for a few hours. What do you say?'

Harry dropped a quick kiss on the top of her head. `Another brilliant idea from the mind of Miss
Hermione Granger,' he quipped, smiling. `You haven't forgotten the family lunch at the
Burrow this Sunday?'

Hermione shook her head. `No - but this is just for the eight of us.'

Neville nodded, grinning. `I say yes! Where?'

`Our place,' said Harry promptly. `Safer, too. That okay love?' he asked, looking at
Hermione.

`Absolutely! I'll get in touch with the others - I'm sure they'll all be in
it.'

And so they were. Which saw Harry and Hermione's flat the following Friday evening echoing
with the conversations and laughter of their friends; the only concession to the current situation
had been the taking of Invenios Elixir once everyone was present, after which they threw themselves
into relaxation and fun.

Harry had, as usual, prepared the food - this time “finger food” that could be picked at from
the table whenever someone felt like something - the hot food kept hot, the cold food cold, by
magic, naturally.

Dean had set himself up at one end of the dining table as an impromptu barman, creating exotic
mixes with rather amusing names.

`What's this?' Priscilla asked him, peering uncertainly into the red liquid with a black
swirl in the centre.

`A Blast-Ended Skrewt - carries a real sting!' Dean told her.

`And mine?' asked Luna, taking her glass from Dean.

`A Doxy's Delight. *Not* for fairies or the fainthearted.'

Luna looked sceptically at the swirling brown concoction in her glass which, while it smelt a
lot like chocolate, must also harbour something more sinister, she was sure.

`And what, my darling husband, are you plying me with?' asked Ginny, smiling at him.

Dean dropped a quick kiss on her forehead before replying, `For you, my love, a Bubbling Bat
Bogey.'

Luna laughed long and loud at this and was in danger of spilling her drink. `Watch it!' said
Ron, as he came up beside her and relieved her of her glass. He too, was chuckling at Dean's
wit and

Ginny gave her husband's arm a playful swipe before accepting the glass of bubbling brown
liquid with yellow specks.

`Hermione! Come and get yours!' called Dean. Hermione, who had been sitting on the couch at
the other end of the room talking with Harry, rolled her eyes in mock-exasperation but obeyed.

`What have you come up with for me?' she asked Dean, smiling expectantly, one eyebrow
raised.

`Nothing less than a Harry-on-a-Hippogriff!' he announced grandly, at which Hermione
dissolved into uncontrollable giggles, unable to take the glass of creamy liquid with a lightning
shaped sprinkle of some brown substance on top for fear of spilling it.

Harry marched up beside Hermione, grinning. `Do the blokes get drinks too?' he asked
Dean.

`Yeah - Butterbeer or firewhisky!'

`Just as well, I'd say,' said Neville as he watched Priscilla sip tentatively at her
drink.

`Mmmm!' was Priscilla's appreciative comment. `Delicious, Dean! A Blast-Ended Skrewt
indeed!'

Once Dean had also handed the men a drink each, Harry and Hermione returned to their place on
the couch facing the fireplace. Ron and Luna sat on the other lounge, a Wizard's Chess board
between them. `Let me teach you how to play,' Ron told her, happily imagining how he'd
impress his fiancée with his strategic genius.

Neville and Priscilla sat at the table with Ginny and Dean, happily discussing a variety of
subjects - but not once bringing up the current situation.

`So, what does Harry-on-a-Hippogriff taste like?' asked Harry, highly amused.

Hermione took a sip of the creamy liquid then delicately licked her lips. `Mmmm…hard to
describe…'

Harry tilted her chin up with a gentle finger then leant down and kissed her slowly.

As he pulled back, he smiled, licked his lips and said, `I taste rather nice, don't you
think?'

Hermione groaned, although she was still smiling. `I think I'm the better judge of
that,' she told Harry, taking another sip of the delicious drink, her eyes smiling at him over
the rim of her glass.

Harry slid his right arm around Hermione's shoulders. `I know better than to argue with
you,' he replied.

`Smart man,' said Ron from the other lounge, frowning down at the chess pieces, some of
which were tapping their feet impatiently; those that had feet, at any rate; there was also a
murmur of discontent rising from the board at the prolonged delay. He glanced up at Luna. `I keep
forgetting you were in Ravenclaw,' he told her, sounding a little put out.

`What's the matter, Ron? Luna too good for you?' asked Hermione.

`She's better than Harry and this is her first game!' Ron sounded distinctly
disgruntled.

`Ron's met his match in more than one way, I'd say,' Harry said loudly to
Hermione.

`Ha ha,' Ron sarcastically as Luna laughed yet again.

`Honey,' said Luna, `just concentrate on the game or you'll lose!'

`Not if I can help it,' mumbled Ron under his breath and poked his Rook, telling it to move,
causing applause to break out amongst the other pieces - those with hands, at any rate.

Harry glanced up at Ginny, Dean, Neville and Priscilla, all still engrossed in their
conversation which was regularly interspersed with laughter.

`Definitely a great idea you had, love,' he told Hermione, `Everyone's enjoying
themselves.'

`Including us,' said Hermione as she snuggled into Harry's shoulder, levitating her
empty glass to the coffee table.

Harry turned and kissed Hermione's forehead. `I think the evening's going to be even
more enjoyable once -'

Ginny suddenly appeared, leaning over the back of the couch. `Once we all join in a game of
Magician's Twister,' she told them.

`Not quite what I had in mind,' said Harry ironically, his eyes finding Hermione's,
sending a signal only Hermione could interpret - she knew what he had in mind and she felt her
pulse rise. *Why is it,* she thought, *that he can make me feel like this just with one of
those looks?* Softly laying her hand on the side of his face, she whispered, `Don't worry -
I won't forget what you had in mind.'

Harry gave her a smile that made her heart race and she slipped her hand around the back of his
neck, drawing his head down so that she could kiss him.

Ginny gave a snort that was at least lady-like. `Oh, *please!* At least wait till
you're alone you two!' she cried. `Come on everyone - Magician's Twister!'

While everyone groaned at Ginny's enthusiastic suggestion, they nevertheless joined in the
Muggle game that the Wizarding world had taken to heart, adding their own magical twist. No Muggle
would've believed their eyes, but suffice to say that the ability to levitate, together with
the advantages inherent in owning a wand, made for a very interesting version of the old Muggle
classic…

Half an hour later, from beneath the tangle of arms and legs in the middle of Harry and
Hermione's loungeroom, came a strangled cry.

`Let me out! I'm parched! I need a drink! Tea! I need tea!' It was Neville, struggling
to speak through his laughter.

His plea had a domino effect as one after the other, various other voices emanated from the
laughing human tangle.

`Me too!'

`*YES!* Excellent idea!'

`Coffee for me, please!'

They were all soon seated around the dining table, a cup of tea or coffee sitting in front of
them, revelling in the sheer silliness of the game and happily accusing each other of cheating
until the conversation eventually turned to other topics.

In one of those moments when someone in a group says something and for some inexplicable reason
a sudden silence falls, Ginny asked Neville and Priscilla and Priscilla what had made them decide
so quickly to get married.

Neville looked discomfited as everyone, on hearing Ginny speak, turned and waited expectantly
for the reply.

`Well,' said Neville, glancing around at his friends and looking embarrassed, `I guess
it's one of the side effects of my job. Without even realising it, I've come to feel that
nothing should be put off because of what-might-happen. You just never know when things might
change. I don't mean you should become irresponsible about things or to use it as an excuse to
do something reckless - but with something like this -', he reached over and took
Priscilla's hand in his, `- I don't want to have any regrets. I don't want to wake up
one morning and, Merlin forbid, find my world in pieces,' meaning if something happened to
Priscilla although he was loath to actually say it aloud, `and spend the rest of my life wishing
I'd done what we're doing - getting married. It's not an impulsive decision - it's
a choice we've both made because we truly believe that whether it's next week, next month
or five years from now, this is what we'd want - to be together.' As he finished speaking,
Neville lifted Priscilla's hand and pressed his lips to the back of it; Priscilla's eyes
were shining with tears although she had a radiant smile on her face.

The short silence that followed was due to everyone being spellbound by Neville's
unaccustomed eloquence. Then Harry spoke, raising his hand in which he held his cup, in Neville and
Priscilla's direction in salute.

`Hear, hear, my friend,' with feeling.

Everyone else followed suit, their voices muted; they understood, now more than ever, what had
prompted Neville to follow his heart.

Priscilla was speechless. As she smiled at Neville - who still had her hand so close to his
mouth she could feel his warm breath - she knew this was a special moment. For Neville to make such
a proclamation in front of friends - well, she thought her heart would burst.

`I love you,' she whispered, `more than you'll ever know.'

Neville clasped her hand in his, holding it against his cheek. `And I love *you*, my
beautiful lady,' he told her.

`Talking of weddings - hey, Ron!' called Harry, `Have you and the new Queen of Chess set the
date yet for tying the knot?' Ron and Luna had been telling everyone for some time now that
they would follow Ginny and Dean's example and go ahead with their wedding plans regardless of
the “current situation” as Neville was wont to call it; as with Ginny and Dean's wedding,
Neville was concerned about security with such a large gathering although he was keeping his
concerns to himself for the moment.

Luna clapped her hands in delight. `Ronald and I have finalised the arrangements for our
nuptials just this week! My father's been to see Ron's mum and dad at the Burrow and -
well, you tell them honey,' she finished, smiling happily at Ron.

Ron, looking terribly proud of himself, stood up to address his friends, beaming happily.

`Well, we've spoken to Luna's dad and he's happy for us to have our wedding at home
- at the Burrow - for which we're very thankful, considering mum and dad are still recovering
from Ginny and Dean's *little do**.'* Hoots of laughter greeted this remark. `We
were actually going to make our official announcement when we all got together this Sunday at the
Burrow for our family lunch but I think this is a good time to tell our closest friends. So, four
weeks from tomorrow, on Sunday the 23rd of November, Luna Lovegood will become Luna
Weasley and make me the happiest man on earth!'

Amongst cries of congratulations, Luna jumped up and threw her arms around Ron's neck, Ron
instinctively wrapping his arms around his fiancée, a huge smile plastered on his face.

`This,' announced Dean, raising his voice to be heard over the hubbub, `calls for a
celebratory toast!'

`I'll drink to that!' cried Ron happily.

And so once again Dean became “barman', dispensing glasses of champagne graciously conjured
up by Harry - glasses that kept refilling themselves, much to the chagrin of Hermione.

`Harry! You know I like to keep track of how much I've drunk - I always finish a glass
before refilling it for that very reason - but with *this* glass - !' Her exasperation was
evident, despite her smile.

`Oh, I don't know about that Miss Granger,' said Harry, a wicked gleam in his eye. `I
seem to recall a night - in this very room, actually - when you, Ginny and Luna were all lying
around doing your nails or something and the three of you managed to drink enough to become, shall
we say, a little *merry!* I doubt very much you were capable of counting *anything* that
night and I seem to recall taking care of you the next day when you were recovering -'

Hermione groaned and drew her hand across her brow theatrically.

`Don't remind me, *please!* I remember I felt *awful* the next day!' Hermione
groaned again. She remembered too well now how she'd lay there and actually *ogled* Harry
before he'd left to go out and Ginny telling him he was very sexy… `I plead innocence - it was
all Ginny's fault making those damn drinks so strong!'

`Innocence?' scoffed Harry. `The way you looked at me that night was *anything* but
innocent as I recall!'

Hermione sighed then smiled sheepishly, `I didn't think you'd have noticed.'

`Oh, I noticed!' laughed Harry. `How could I *not* notice you checking me out like
that? Made me feel all hot and bothered - a bit like I do now actually…'

`And looking at me like *that* is guaranteed to make *me* feel hot and bothered!'
retorted Hermione, her heart beating a little faster at the look in his Harry's eyes.

They were still seated at the table and Harry slid his arm across Hermione's shoulders,
dropping his head to touch his forehead to hers.

`I've been rather hot and bothered over you all night my love,' he told her, his voice
husky with desire.

Hermione smiled suggestively at him. `You *think* you've been hot and bothered…once
everyone's gone I'll show you the *real* meaning of hot and bothered, Mr
Potter.'

Hermione's low, seductive tones seemed to travel along every erotic pathway Harry possessed;
his breathing ceased momentarily as he gazed into the honey-coloured depths of her eyes.

`D'you think,' he whispered with difficulty, `they would notice if we just
left?'

`Sadly, yes. I'm afraid we're stuck here till they leave.'

`Damn! How we can get them all out really quickly? Any ideas?'

Hermione laughed. `Not one! I'm too busy thinking about you and what I'm going to do to
you-'

`Stop! You're teasing me now, evil witch.'

`No mercy, Mr Potter - you know me.'

Ron's voice prevented any further talk as he stood and waved his arms above his head to
attract everyone's attention.

`I forgot a few things everyone! Luna's just reminded me! Firstly, Harry - you haven't
forgotten you're my best man, have you?'

`Not likely!' replied Harry as he rose from his chair and walked around to where Ron stood,
holding out his hand to his first and oldest friend. As their hands met in a warm handshake, Harry
smiled at Ron. `It's my pleasure and honour, mate, you know that.'

Ron could only nod, his throat feeling oddly tight.

As Harry resumed his seat, Ron cleared his throat and told everyone he was going to ask Fred and
George to be his groomsmen. Then Luna stood up and slipped her arm through Ron's as she smiled
shyly around the table, her warm, silvery gaze coming to rest on Ginny.

`Well, I don't have any sisters but we've known each other for quite a while now and you
have been my closest friend - you always stood up for me - and I'm hoping that you will be my
Maid of Honour.'

Ginny jumped up, shrieking in delight as she ran to Luna and hugged her.

`Of course I will!'

As they stood, their arms around each other's waist, Luna continued.

`And I'd really love it if you, Hermione and you, Priscilla, would be my
bridesmaids.'

Hermione clapped her hands in delight, quickly moving around the table to hug Luna.

Priscilla sat looking happily stunned until encouraged by the other girls to join them.

As she hugged Luna, Priscilla told her, `Thank you for asking me, Luna! I can hardly believe it
- I've never been in a wedding party before!'

`Neither have I!' laughed Luna.

A little later, after animated discussions about the wedding, Neville and Priscilla singled out
Harry and Hermione to say good night.

Shaking hands with Harry and then giving Hermione a hug, Neville thanked them for a great
night.

`Oi! Wait a minute!' cried Ron, quickly joining them. `Would you two be able to come to
lunch on Sunday?' he asked. `Since Priscilla's going to be a bridesmaid I know mum'll
want her there. Starts at midday.'

Neville looked down at Priscilla, questioning her silently. Her lovely blue eyes were still full
of delight at being included in Ron and Luna's wedding as she smiled up at him, nodding.

`Looks like we'll see you there mate!'

Ron clapped him on the back. `Great! See you then.'

Shortly afterwards, Dean and Ginny departed followed quickly by a tired but happy Ron and Luna.
Harry tidied up with a wave of his hand, doing the same as they passed the kitchen on their way to
bed.

As he lay in bed waiting for Hermione to emerge from the bathroom, Harry put his hands behind
his head, closing his eyes and smiling to himself as he thought about the wonderful time they'd
all had that night; it had certainly brought them out from under the cloud that had been hovering
over their lives recently. *Although I'm about to have an even better time,* he thought to
himself smugly as he heard the bathroom door close and the soft sound of Hermione's feet as she
walked to the bed. Harry didn't move, enjoying his own, intense anticipation as he felt
Hermione slip into bed, pulling the duvet over herself.

When Hermione pulled herself up on her elbow and dropped a sweet kiss on his cheek, murmuring,
`Night, dear,' before lying down again, Harry's eyes flew open, followed by a few seconds
in which it registered what Hermione had just done and said.

`What?' croaked Harry. *Where the hell had hot and bothered Hermione gone?*

Some rather strange sounds broke the spell of shock and he realised they were coming from
Hermione who had turned on her side away from him.

`Hermione?'

Hermione rolled onto her back and Harry realised the strange sounds had been suppressed
laughter. Hermione was laughing properly now causing Harry to feel a little put out.

`I couldn't resist! Oh, Harry, I'm s-s-`, but Hermione was unable to speak for a minute
until her laughter became giggles which dissolved to a cheekily mischievous smile with a wicked
gleam in her eye, just visible to Harry in the last of the moonlight streaming through the
window.

Harry had rolled onto his side, up on his elbow, and was looking down at Hermione with
exasperation.

`Hermione Jane Granger - you are -`

`Horny,' stated Hermione as she slid closer to Harry, her arm winding around his waist.
Harry resisted the temptation to reciprocate with his free hand, deciding he wasn't going to
capitulate quite *that* quickly after being laughed at.

`Horny?' repeated Harry. `What happened to “hot and bothered”?' he demanded, stalling
for time. Hermione sensed his enforced reticence and smiled as her hand left Harry's waist and
up and around to his chest, her nails scraping lightly across the tensed muscles. Harry could feel
his resolve crumbling, helped along by the one part of his anatomy which seemed to have a mind of
its' own and an insolent disregard for his authority. The next second Harry drew in a sharp
breath as he felt Hermione press the whole length of her body against his and he realised she was
also completely naked. Still, he made no move, wanting to make her wait a little longer although it
was killing him in the process!

`Oh, I left hot and bothered behind hours ago,' she said in a low, husky voice, `and moved
right along to horny.' She was aware that Harry was deliberately holding back and was quite
happy to play along.

Harry groaned softly. He wouldn't last much longer but he intended to go down fighting.

Then Hermione pressed her hips against his. `We're a perfect fit, aren't we?'
whispered Hermione, her voice low and breathy, `I'm horny and you're hard.'

Harry couldn't prevent the low growl he uttered and knew he was lost - the feel of
Hermione's body, the smell of her fragrance and the desire in her voice swept away everything
but his overwhelming need to possess her. His arm seemed to move of its' own accord, wrapping
around Hermione's waist, his weight causing her to roll onto her back so that he was able to
position himself above her. Their eyes met for a split second, both filled with intense desire,
then he kissed her, his hand sliding into her soft curls, cradling her head as he pushed his tongue
into her mouth, drawing a soft moan from her. Hermione wrapped her arms around him, one leg curling
around Harry's as she instinctively ground herself against him, greedy for the hardness she
encountered, her movements making Harry think he'd never been *this* hard before.

Hermione pulled back from the kiss, `Harry,' she murmured, her voice husky with desire, `I
mean it - I've been thinking about you - us - all night and I need you *now!*
*Please!* ' emphasising her words by pushing even harder against Harry's now aching
erection.

`Are you sure?' Harry's voice was thick with his own desperate need.

`*Yes!*' cried Hermione, wrapping both her legs around Harry so that he was able to
plunge into her, the heat and wetness that enveloped him driving all coherent thought from his
mind. Hermione's back arched convulsively and the sensation of her breasts with their hardened
nipples pressing into his chest was the last straw; Harry surrendered to the ecstasy that swept
through him hardly able to believe how it intensified when he heard his name cried out and knew
Hermione had joined him.

***** ***** ***** ***** *****

`Seamus Finnigan's coming? I don't believe it!' cried Hermione as she placed her
goblet of pumpkin juice back on the table.

Dean smiled across the table at her looking very happy. `Yep! He'll be here the Friday
before the wedding. I'm really looking forward to seeing him again.' Seamus had been
Dean's best mate at Hogwarts.

Mrs Weasley, who was busy with her wand directing platters of food to the middle of the table,
inquired, `So he'll be here for the wedding then, I take it?' They were all seated inside
as the autumn weather was beginning to turn a little too chilly for outdoor eating; instead, they
simply used magic to expand the table to a size that would accommodate the number of people
present.

`If that's all right with you Mum, of course,' said Dean..

Molly nodded as her husband spoke from the head of the table. `Of course it is. What's
Seamus been doing, Dean? Didn't his mother keep him out of Hogwarts, Seventh Year?'

Dean, who was eyeing his food hungrily, nodded at his father-in-law. `She was pretty paranoid -
you know how it was Seventh Year. He ended up getting a job at St Mungo's and he's now the
Apprentice Team Healer for the Kenmare Kestrels - the Irish team. He's spent most of his time
in Ireland living in Kenmare and training with the Team Healer - a nice bloke, name of Aidan
O'Tillotson, I've met him a couple of times. He's planning on retiring in a couple of
years and Seamus sounds really excited about taking over. It's been harder for him, not having
finished at Hogwarts; his mum didn't realise.'

Priscilla looked questioningly at Neville who leaned over to tell her quietly, `Team Healers are
the equivalent of Muggle Physiotherapists. Dean knows about all this because he's the Team
Healer for the Wigtown Wanderers - the Quidditch team,' he added hastily, aware that
Priscilla's knowledge of the world of Quidditch was probably not large.

Hermione remembered how she'd been angry at Seamus back in their Fifth Year due to his
falling out with Harry - but that Seamus had insisted on remaining at Hogwarts in defiance of his
mother's wishes and had even eventually joined Harry's unofficial Defence Against the Dark
Arts class.

`Does he still look the same?' she asked Dean, remembering Dean's usually friendly face
and sandy hair.

Dean shrugged. `He looks like Seamus.'

Hermione, along with the rest of the girls, groaned.

`Dean!' cried Ginny, `You're so unobservant! You *saw* Seamus - he Flooed you! I
can't believe you can't describe what he looks like now,' Ginny finished.

`Yes I did!' protested Dean.

`“He looks like Seamus” is *not* a description!' Ginny replied, exasperation in her
voice.

Dean good-naturedly accepted the quips and criticisms thrown his way, telling everyone
they'd “see for themselves” in a few weeks' time.

`Right everyone! Time to eat!' called Mrs Weasley, a command obeyed with enthusiasm by one
and all. What Molly called a “family Sunday lunch” was a bit of a misnomer if you wanted to be
precise because not every Weasley family member could attend every family lunch. For instance, this
particular lunch saw the absence of Bill and Fleur (holidaying in Romania with Charlie and “trying
to make babies” as Ginny succinctly put it), Fred and George were also missing due to work demands
(`I wonder what the names are of the “work demands”?' asked Ron cynically of Luna, rolling his
eyes) and Charlie, of course, was hatching his latest batch of dragon eggs. As for Percy - well,
the less said the better.

Once the plates had been cleared away, talk turned once more to the wedding as was
inevitable.

At one point, Ginny got up and walked around to Harry and Hermione, leaning over between them,
an elbow on the back of each of their chairs.

`I was wondering,' she told them, `whether we shouldn't organise some sort of get
together on the Friday night before the wedding since Seamus will be here - just us, not Mum and
Dad - to celebrate the end of Ron's bachelorhood and Luna's whatever-you-call-it!'

`Spinsterhood,' replied Hermione promptly without even thinking.

`Ugh!' exclaimed Ginny.

Hermione laughed. `It *does* sound ugly, you're right - we won't use that word
again!'

`Where should we go?' asked Harry.

Ginny shrugged. `I'm open to ideas.'

Hermione looked thoughtful. `How many people will there be?' she asked Ginny, even as she
began calculating in her head and Ginny began listing names, `Us four,' she began, referring to
herself and Dean, Hermione and Harry, `Ron and Luna, Fred and George, Neville and Priscilla, Seamus
- that's it!'

`Eleven,' said Hermione as she looked at Harry, raising one eyebrow in an unspoken
question.

Harry rolled his eyes, smiling all the while. He looked from Hermione to Ginny and said, `Yes,
we can have it at our place!'

Hermione and Ginny both clapped their hands.

`We need to do some “decorating”, don't you think?' asked Ginny, her eyes alight with
glee.

`Absolutely!' replied Hermione. `What about…'

Harry shook his head, still smiling, and left Hermione and Ginny to their excited planning,
Ginny slipping into his vacated seat without giving him a glance or pausing in what she was saying.
He walked around and sat down with Dean and Ron who were patiently listening to Luna's
description of various aspects of the wedding day.

`Hey, Luna,' said Harry, `Hermione and Ginny are planning some sort of super do for you and
Ron -' and before he'd even finished, Luna was up, saying, `Really?' in a breathless
voice as she headed around the table to join the other girls. Within the next minute, Priscilla
also joined the girls and Neville sat down with his old dorm-mates, looking very relieved as he did
so.

`Never ceases to amaze me,' he told his mates, `how women can talk about *nothing* for
hours on end!'

`And what is it *we're* discussing?' asked Dean with a smile.

`Quidditch!' answered Ron promptly.

`Which is definitely *something!*' laughed Harry, knowing the girls would probably
think their Quidditch discussion was unutterably boring.

Harry glanced across the table at his fiancée, obviously enjoying her discussion with her
friends.

He smiled to himself. They may be on opposite sides of the table now, but he knew that later,
once they were home, they'd be in the same bed and he was already thinking Hermione was far
more interesting than Quidditch (laughing quietly as he imagined Hermione's reaction to
*that* little thought).

As Harry continued to gaze across the table at Hermione, watching her as she talked, listened
and laughed, he felt a deep contentment and happiness spread through him, before his mind began
helplessly and inevitably wandering ahead to that night and what he - *they* - would be
doing…

TO BE CONTINUED…

Author's Note

Harry can be a typical man, can't he? *grins*

And see, no cliffie this time! *smiles benevolently*

But my crystal ball tells me there is sure to be another, lurking just around the corner,
waiting to pounce…

-->



13. Four Weddings & A Funeral - Chapter Twleve
----------------------------------------------



Author's Note

This chapter is another “fun and fluff” sort of chapter, mainly to bring Seamus “into the fold”.
Enjoy while it lasts, dear readers (*more evil author cackling*)

(Warning: If you're not familiar with Monty Python, there is one, small part of this chapter
that probably won't make much sense for which I apologise in advance…)

And once again, my heartfelt thanks to KirstiR who has me in awe of her abilities as a beta!
(Trust me - she's bloody brilliant!)

FOUR WEDDINGS & A FUNERAL

By Lady Jane

Chapter Twelve

`I can't believe the wedding is the day after tomorrow - where has the time gone?!'
complained Hermione as she flopped onto the couch.

`Wherever it's gone, it went there too bloody fast!' replied Ginny as she joined
Hermione on the couch.

They were at Harry and Hermione's, putting finishing touches to their “decorations” for that
night's gathering.

`What time's Seamus arriving?' asked Hermione, turning to look at Ginny.

Ginny shrugged. `Not sure, actually. A little after lunch, I think Dean said. Speaking of lunch,
why don't we go back to the Burrow and have some? Mum was making some soup this morning and
I'm starving after all this work!'

`You sound like Ron!' laughed Hermione as she glanced at her wristwatch, her eyes widening
in surprise. `Twelve o'clock! More time gone flying!'

As they stood up and prepared to Apparate, Ginny asked Hermione, `Harry's not going to come
home before we get back is he?'

Hermione chuckled as she shook her head. `No, he promised. He knows you're worried about him
messing with our decorating.' Hermione waved her arm expansively indicating her newly
“decorated” loungeroom before she continued, `He said he'd be with Ron, having a long lunch at
the Burning Broomstick. Then they're going back to the Burrow to meet up with Seamus first
before they come here.'

`Lucky for Ron his work has wound down a bit with the Quidditch World Cup being over. Come on,
let's go!' said Ginny as they both stood and Ginny looped her arm through Hermione's.
The two friends smiled at each other as they Apparated.

`Mum? Mum!' called Ginny as they walked through to the kitchen at the Burrow a few seconds
later.

Hermione spotted a piece of parchment on the kitchen table. `Here's a note,' she said,
picking it up. `She's just gone to Diagon Alley for a few things.'

`She won't be long I suppose,' commented Ginny as she went to check the contents of a
large pot on the stove. `Mmmm, the soup's hot,' she murmured, inhaling a delicious smell.
`Mum won't mind if we help ourselves.'

`And here's some bread,' said Hermione from the sink; a large, fresh loaf of bread
reposed on a wooden board, a bread knife nearby.

Ginny whipped out her wand. `Accio bowls!' she cried happily, catching the two soup bowls as
they reached her.

Hermione began slicing the bread and within five minutes both girls were seated at the table,
giggling at their attempts to outdo each other's appreciative noises of Mrs Weasley's
cooking.

A series of sudden, loud knocks on the kitchen door nearly made both of them drop their
spoons.

`Hello! Anyone home?' called a deep, male voice with a distinct Irish brogue.

Hermione and Ginny looked at each other. `Seamus!' they cried simultaneously, jumping to
their feet and running to the door.

If anyone had been watching they no doubt would have a good laugh at the scene that
followed.

All three faces had wide smiles on them, which transformed into looks of amazement at the sight
of each other.

Ginny gaped at Seamus who was now as tall as Ron, his sandy hair cut very short; Hermione stared
in surprise although she'd known Seamus wouldn't look as he did last time she'd seen
him. Seamus, after quickly glancing at Ginny and taking in her bright, brown eyes and shining red
hair, which was pulled back in a loose ponytail, turned to simply stare at Hermione, his light blue
eyes roaming appreciatively over her and coming to rest on her face. He was capable of only one
thought at that moment: *Wow!*

The frozen tableau lasted but a second or two before all three burst out laughing and Seamus
found himself being hugged firstly by Ginny and then Hermione (*Holy Merlin she feels
good**!* he couldn't help thinking) before being ushered into the kitchen, the girls
getting him some soup and bread and putting the kettle on for a cuppa.

`I can't believe how tall you are!' said Ginny. `You really look grown up!'

`Happens to the best of us!' said Seamus, grinning. `As for you two - well, I must say
you've, um,' his eyes came to rest on Hermione again, `also grown up,' he finished
lamely, unable to find any safer way of saying what was running through his mind; *Af**ter
all,* *`Holy shit Hermione, you're hot!' wasn't a very appropriate comment*, he
thought wryly.

`There's something you'll need to do, Seamus. Have you heard of Invenios Elixir?'
asked Hermione as she carried a fresh pot of tea to the table.

Seamus shook his head, looked a little puzzled.

Hermione explained briefly that there was a problem with an impostor, more thank likely a Death
Eater, within the Ministry who seemed to be impersonating different people and so for security
reasons they needed to verify each other's identity each time they met again.

Looking a little dazed, Seamus readily drank the Elixir Hermione offered him after which
Hermione and Ginny both also drank some, telling Seamus it was necessary so that he could be sure
they weren't using Polyjuice Potion. They went on to tell him that he would need to get his own
phial of Elixir whilst he was visiting them.

Even while he listened to the explanations and chatted and listened to the two girls -
*women!* - he corrected himself - there was one part of him that remained focused entirely on
Hermione. *Why hadn't he ever noticed her potential at school?* he wondered. *Surely
there must have been something of this gorgeous creature in that robed, bushy haired school
girl?* *What a difference a few years can make!* Hermione *was* an attractive woman -
her slender figure was very nicely in proportion and she now had total control over her hair
although she didn't go to elaborate lengths. Seamus was entranced by it all, including her
dark, honey-coloured eyes and soft, clear skin which he felt an irresistible urge to touch…*and
h**e* *was enthralled as he watched her -* *the way she laughed, dropping* *her
head back slightly to expose the creamy skin of her* *throat**...the* *way she*
*reached over once or twice to lightly touch his arm to emphasise what she'd just*
*said**… and the way she her hair swung across her back when she turned her head…*

And then he saw it: the ring on the third finger of Hermione's left hand.

`Who are you engaged to?' he asked abruptly, not even aware he was cutting off Ginny's
reply to something Hermione had said.

`What?' asked Hermione, perplexed.

Seamus pointed to her ring, forcing himself to sound calm. `Sorry Ginny - I just noticed
Hermione's ring. Who are you engaged to?' He found he hated the thought of her being
engaged - because it would preclude him from “having a chance” with her. But some dreadful little
part of his mind said engaged, not married…what if?

`Harry of course!' cried Ginny, even before Hermione could reply. `Heavens! Don't you
hear about anything over in Kenmare?' Ginny sounded shocked. `The news of Harry and
Hermione's engagement was all over the place! Not to mention her kidnapping!'

*Harry? Harry? Shit. Harry. Potter.* *Just g**reat. What wizard could outdo being
Harry Potter**?* he thought with disgusted irony.

But he smiled. `Harry - of course! Congratulations! And well, we don't really pay much
attention to papers and such in Kenmare - they have something like the daily prophet but I guess
it's a very insulated little village and so wrapped up in itself the outside world takes a back
seat.' Ginny's last piece of information finally seemed to reach him. `Kidnapped? What do
you mean, kidnapped?'

`Oh, a couple of Death Eaters fooled me and I was held captive by them for a couple of days -
they didn't actually hurt me -'

`And Harry saved her, of course!' interrupted Ginny.

*Of course he did,* thought Seamus bitterly. `Which Death Eaters? I thought they were all
caught or dead or something.'

Hermione shook her head. `No, unfortunately!' She gave Ginny a quick glance. `We believe
Lucius Malfoy's got the last of them together again -'

`Lucius Malfoy? Now he *was* in Azkaban, I know!' exclaimed Seamus.

`*Was* being the operative word,' replied Ginny. `He escaped some time ago. Even Draco
and his mother are in hiding from him - at Hogwarts.'

`Draco? Malfoy? At Hogwarts?' Seamus shook his head looking rather confused. `I can't
believe it! What's been going on over here? I've certainly missed a lot!'

`You have *no* idea,' said Ginny as she and Hermione exchanged a look of amused
disbelief. *Seamus must've been living with his head in the sand!*

`Mind you,' continued Ginny, `one of the Death Eater's that kidnapped Hermione is now
permanently residing in the nutter ward at St Mungo's and the other one escaped before his
trial but the Aurors managed to catch him again. He's now where he belongs - in
Azkaban.'

Hermione rolled her eyes at Ginny's summary but couldn't help smiling.

Seamus was still looked rather dazed. `You don't know the half of it!' Ginny told him.
`And by the way, I'm married,' she informed him happily, holding up her hand to show off
her wedding band. `Didn't Dean tell you about us?'

`Wow! Congratulations!' And he did indeed feel truly happy for them. `A lot can happen in a
few years, can't it? I have some catching up to do. Dean didn't really have a chance to
tell me anything.' *F**or instance*, he thought bitterly, *that Harry and Hermione
were engaged*. `What about Ron?' he continued, `and Neville?'

Ginny groaned. `Didn't Dean tell you that Ron and Luna's wedding is this
Sunday?'

Seamus shook his head, also groaning. `He just asked me when I was arriving and said there was a
special party on and to bring my dress robes.'

Ginny and Hermione looked at each other, their exasperation with Dean showing plainly on their
faces.

`Wizards! I tell you, they can be as thick as bricks at times!' said Ginny tartly before she
gave Seamus a brief rundown on his former schoolmates lives. She finished with telling him about
Neville and Priscilla. `And Neville's engaged to a lovely girl - who works with Hermione,
actually - named Priscilla. She's lovely.'

`Priscilla? I once knew a Priscilla. Unusual name. What's her last name?' asked Seamus
curiously.

`Laycock,' answered Hermione and at the look of shock on Seamus' face, continued, `You
know Priscilla?

`Pretty girl - blue eyes - black hair?' asked Seamus. Hermione nodded as Seamus shook his
head in amazement.

`Small world, isn't it? She has to be the same Priscilla that used to spend some of her
summer holidays with her mum and dad in the same place we did. That was before Hogwarts though.
Haven't seen her since. I often wondered what happened to her. Her dad was a Muggle, like
mine.'

`Her dad died in a car accident; it's only her and her mum now,' said Hermione, feeling
a brief wave of sadness for her friend. She thought Priscilla and her mum had been very
courageous.

`I'm sorry to hear that; he was a nice bloke, too - got on with my dad really well.'

`You'll get to catch up with Priscilla tonight, too - along with everyone else!' Ginny
told him.

`Can't wait!' said Seamus, momentarily distracted from his Hermione-watching by this
happy thought.

As the three friends sat wondering at what a small world it was, Mrs Weasley arrived home, using
the recognition code and being assured by the girls that Seamus was Seamus, after which they helped
her put her shopping away.

When they'd finished, Hermione and Ginny suggested that Seamus come back with them to Harry
and Hermione's flat, Mrs Weasley assuring them she'd tell Ron and Harry about the change in
plans.

When they arrived in the transformed loungeroom of Harry and Hermione's flat, Seamus
gasped.

`I take it this *is* your place and that it doesn't usually look like this?' he
asked, gazing around.

The girls laughed. `We did a little redecorating for tonight,' Hermione told him. `Come on -
you can stay in our spare room tonight if you like - or you can go back with Ginny and Dean of
course, I suppose you'd probably rather catch up with Dean.'

*I'd rather catch you**!* he thought wickedly, wishing uselessly once more that
she was a free agent, before telling Hermione he'd be quite happy to stay with her and Harry
that night and then he'd go to Ginny and Dean's the following morning to stay. `I'm
really looking forward to catching up with everyone,' he told her as she showed him to the
spare room.

Hermione stood in the doorway, leaning on the frame, a curious expression on her face. As Seamus
dropped his things on the bed, he noticed and said, `A penny for your thoughts!'

Hermione gave a quick laugh and shrugged. `Nothing really - just - remembering…'

`Remembering what?' persisted Seamus, wanting to prolong this time alone with her.

`Well, it's just that this was Harry's room when he first moved to London from Hogwarts.
It just brings back memories.'

Seamus wished he hadn't asked, realising that Harry's room now must also be
Hermione's room.

`Come on,' he said, pushing aside a sudden stab of jealousy, `let's go get ready to
party!'

And party they did. Harry and Ron arrived shortly afterwards and Seamus marched across the room,
grabbing Harry's hand and shaking it enthusiastically, forgetting his envy for the moment.
`Harry, mate, how are you? Looking good oh He-Who-Defeated-Voldemort! A belated thank you, by the
way, for that - no one but the Chosen One could've done it, eh?' He laughed then turned to
Ron. `And well done, He-Who-Organised-The-Quidditch-World-Cup!'

`Didn't do it alone, mate,' Ron laughed.

After these greetings, Harry and Ron studied the newly done-over loungeroom and praised the
girls' decorating efforts, Harry moving to stand behind Hermione, slipping his arms around her
waist and dropping his head to whisper in her ear. Hermione turned her head to smile at Harry,
bringing her hand up to caress the side of his face.

Seamus couldn't help but stare. And couldn't help but wish that he was in Harry's
shoes. He's had a couple of girlfriends in Kenmare - nothing serious. No girl had ever really
taken his fancy since he'd outgrown his various adolescent crushes at Hogwarts. Until he'd
clapped eyes on Hermione that afternoon. He was still astounded at his reaction to her - a reaction
other blokes had described to him, usually over a pint at the pub, but he'd always thought
they'd been exaggerating. Now - unfortunately - he knew exactly what they meant…

`Here you are, mate!' cried Ron, pushing a large glass of Butterbeer into his hand. `A
toast!'

Hermione and Ginny had been handed a glass of chilled white wine and the three men were all
holding a glass of Butterbeer.

`Here's to reunions, remembrances and rollicking fun!' said Ron.

`Ron, I'm impressed,' said Ginny, smiling archly at her brother. `You don't usually
remember things you read or hear that aren't connected with Quidditch or Luna.'

Ron playfully poked his tongue out at his sister, making the other four laugh. `For your
information, Miss Smart Aleck, I made that up myself!'

`Well, of course you did,' replied Ginny, leaning over to whisper in Seamus' ear who was
standing next to her, `after he swallowed a dictionary!'

Ron cast his sister a suspicious look as Hermione glanced at her watch. `Won't be too long
before Dean, Neville and Priscilla arrive,' she commented. `Where's Luna, Ron? She should
be here, shouldn't she?'

`Actually, you're right. I wonder why she's late?' Ron's face was suddenly
creased with concern.

`Why don't you go check? Make sure she's all right.'

Ron quickly agreed and Apparated to his flat.

`Right, let's get everything ready,' said Hermione, sharing a conspiratorial smile with
Ginny.

`What are you two up to?' inquired Harry. `I thought this *was* finished,' he
added, indicating the room.

`Oh, just one or two little additions to be made,' said Ginny airily. `Why don't you and
Seamus go and wait in the kitchen - get yourselves another Butterbeer.'

After dropping a kiss on Hermione's cheek, Harry happily complied and led Seamus to the
kitchen, knowing Hermione had a reason for shooing them away.

`What d'you reckon they're up to?' asked Seamus as Harry opened the fridge to get
another two Butterbeers.

Harry shrugged. `Wouldn't even try and guess - what man knows how a woman's mind
works?'

`I'll drink to that!' laughed Seamus as they sat themselves at the kitchen table with
their drinks.

`So, Harry - you and Hermione. How about that? And congratulations, by the way.' Seamus
raised his glass to Harry. *Lucky bastard,* he thought.

Harry smiled, his expression one of immensely happy satisfaction as he touched his glass to
Seamus'.

`Thanks. How about you? Got a girl back in Kenmare?'

Seamus looked down into his Butterbeer as he placed his glass back on the table.

`No one serious. Been too busy, I guess.' He smiled wryly at Harry. `Wished I'd known
Hermione was going to turn out to be so - ' he hesitated.

`What? Gorgeous? There's more to her than that, mate,' laughed Harry.

`I don't doubt it,' replied Seamus. `You're one lucky wizard, Harry Potter.'

`And don't I know it!'

`Know what?' inquired Hermione as she walked into the kitchen.

`Everything,' said Harry promptly, making Hermione laugh. She walked over to where he was
still sitting at the table with Seamus and leant down, resting her hands on his shoulders and
kissing him quickly on the temple before saying, `Come on, we're all ready and Ron and Luna
will probably be back any second. The others shouldn't be far behind them.'

Seamus followed them out of the kitchen wondering what it would like to have Hermione kiss
*him*…

As Harry, Hermione, Seamus and Ginny waited for the arrival of their friends, Harry and Seamus
looked around then congratulated the girls on the “extras” they'd added.

`Bloody brilliant!' cried Seamus.

`Ron and Luna will love it,' laughed Harry.

Harry and Hermione's loungeroom now resembled a smaller version of the Gryffindor Common
Room with a few modifications. Because this night was celebrating Seamus' arrival as well as
Ron and Luna's pending nuptials, there was a harp-playing leprechaun in one corner wearing the
green Kenmare Kestrel robes, the front of which were adorned with the characteristic two yellow
“Ks” back to back; he kept winking cheekily at Ginny and Hermione. A replica of Luna's lion hat
that she'd worn at Hogwarts was perched on a large chess piece - a knight - which was
positioned beside the “portrait hole” which was in fact the doorway into the loungeroom and the
Gryffindor and Ravenclaw house crests were hanging side by side over the fireplace which held
merrily crackling flames.

Special arrangements had been made for everyone's arrival for this particular night and they
were able to Apparate directly into the loungeroom.

Ron and Luna arrived first - Luna clapping her hands in delight at the setting and looking
rather misty eyed at the sight of the lion's head hat. Ron just smiled, shaking his head in
disbelief; he'd seen the “Gryffindor Common Room“ but Ginny and Hermione had added the house
crests, the hat and chess piece after he'd left to find Luna. `My finest chess game ever,'
he said, looking from Hermione to Harry. He meant, of course, the game he'd helped the trio
win, enabling Harry to reach the Philosopher's Stone.

Luna hugged both the girls before turning to Seamus, her silvery eyes staring intently at him
for a moment as though trying to place him.

`Luna? Remember me?' Seamus asked, smiling and waggling his eyebrows at her.

Luna cocked her head to one side. `Yes. You didn't believe Harry -'

`Of course she remembers you!' interrupted Ginny who was sure Luna was going to say
something it was kinder she didn't. `Come on, I'll get you two a drink.' She led them
to the side of the room where one of the tables had been set up with some glasses and bottles of
wine and so forth.

Dean arrived at that moment, saying hello to everyone, quickly moving to shake Seamus' hand.
`Great to see you again mate!'

`Should've made the trip sooner!' replied Seamus as Ginny, having made sure everyone had
a drink, brought Dean and Seamus a bottle of Butterbeer each. Dean leaned down and kissed her,
pulling her to his side with his free hand.

Seamus raised his glass in a silent toast to them. `Who would've thought your little fling
in Fifth Year would lead to this?'

`Oh, it hasn't been smooth sailing,' commented Dean ruefully.

`But it's been worth it!' finished Ginny.

`Here they are at last!' cried Hermione as Neville and Priscilla appeared, their expressions
showing their amazement at the sight that met them.

`Wow!' exclaimed Priscilla. `I feel as though I'm back at Hogwarts!'

`I know what you mean,' agreed Neville as he looked around. Then his eyes fell on Seamus and
widened.

`Seamus! You made it!'

Walking up to Neville and Priscilla, Seamus was also smiling and nodding, his hand extended.

Neville took the proffered hand and laughed.

`Seamus Finnigan! Good to see you again!'

`Great to see you too, Neville.' His eyes moved to Priscilla who was staring at him as
though deep in thought.

`This is my fiancée, Priscilla Laycock,' said Neville. `Priscilla, another of my old dorm
mates from Hogwarts, Seamus Finnigan.'

Recognition dawned on Priscilla's face. `Seamus? From the holidays in Ireland? With that
lovely Muggle dad, like mine?'

Seamus nodded, `One and the same!' and Priscilla let out a small scream as she threw her
arms around Seamus' neck and hugged him.

Neville looked completely nonplussed as did everyone else but Ginny and Hermione until Seamus
and Priscilla explained their childhood friendship.

A short while later (after the now ritual taking of Invenios Elixir) all available armchairs
were pulled up around the fireplace, Harry and Hermione, Ron and Luna occupying the large armchair
directly in front of the fire in their usual positions (Harry and Ron at each end, Hermione and
Luna between them). Ginny sat in one of the fattest and squashiest armchairs alongside Ron while
Dean sat on a large cushion at her feet, his arm across her lap. Priscilla sat in an armchair at
the other end beside Harry and Neville was comfortably perched on the large, padded arm, his arm
protectively behind his fiancée. Seamus was lying on the rug in front of the fire, his head propped
up on his elbow, facing everyone, wishing he had his own girl … his own Hermione...

Seamus noticed Luna once more staring at him and during a lull in the conversation, she started
to say something to him about “lack of loyalty to one's friends” which was quickly steered into
another channel by a very astute Ginny who, while she loved Luna dearly, was only too aware of her
predilection for saying precisely what was on her mind, come what may.

Once everyone was filled in on Seamus' and Priscilla's meeting as youngsters in Ireland,
it was followed by Seamus being brought up to date with all the things Ginny and Hermione
hadn't had time to tell him earlier that afternoon.

`So you ended up in Gryffindor, too, Priscilla?' asked Seamus, forcing himself to look away
from the sight of Hermione and Harry smiling as they whispered to each other.

Priscilla nodded. `Professor Dumbledore didn't want me to feel embarrassed by being Sorted
with the new First Years when I was actually starting Sixth Year, so he Sorted me in his office and
I ended up in Gryffindor. I must say I was rather pleased about that and so was my Mum considering
the exalted company I joined!' She gave Harry and Hermione a wink and a wave.

`Oi! What about me? Aren't I exalted too?' complained Ron, trying to look hurt.

`Well, of course you are Ron!' said Priscilla, rolling her eyes, amazed at how comfortable
she now felt amongst these people she once held in awe.

Before Ron could say any more, there was a loud *crack!* and Dobby the house-elf appeared,
bowing so low his nose almost scraped the floor.

`Dobby!' cried Harry, `What are you doing here?'

`Dobby is here to help of course, Harry Potter, sir!'

Harry turned and looked at Hermione only to find her smiling at him. `Dobby has agreed to do the
catering for our little party tonight,' she informed him.

`And Harry Potter's My-Knee is paying Dobby, sir!' announced the house-elf proudly.

Harry laughed. `I wouldn't expect anything less, Dobby!'

`So, Dobby,' said Ron eagerly, sitting up straight. `What's on the menu?'

`Harry Potter's Wheezy will soon see, sir! I shall be right back!'

`Where's he gone?' asked Priscilla who, while she hadn't before seen a house-elf,
knew of their existence and was fascinated at coming face to face with one.

`Probably back to Hogwarts, I'd guess,' replied Seamus, wishing the persistently pesky
thoughts of how lovely Hermione looked by the firelight would cease and desist and leave him in
peace.

True to his word, Dobby returned shortly afterwards with six other house-elves, all carrying an
impossible amount of food which they placed on the dining table that Ginny had transfigured earlier
that afternoon to look as though it belonged in the Common Room (doing an admirable job as it
wasn't in any way recognisable as Harry and Hermione's table).

Hermione spent a minute speaking to Dobby and his friends, thanking them all and handing a bag
of galleons to Dobby, asking him to distribute them to the other house-elves individually later;
she knew they would act quite mortified if she offered them any such thing here and now. Dobby
promised to do his best before he and all the other house-elves Apparated back to Hogwarts.

When everyone had eaten their fill, it was Ginny who once again got up and encouraged (or was
that coerced?) everyone into playing a game of Charades.

`How will we decide teams?' asked Priscilla.

`Easy - everyone's names are on a slip of parchment in this small cauldron on the table
-' and as she spoke, Ginny put her hand in the cauldron and pulled out a name, reading it
aloud, `Dean! And that means he's in the first team and pulls out the next name and that person
will be in the other team. Got it?'

They did. And so it went. Dean pulled out Priscilla's name and she pulled out Luna's
name. Luna then pulled out Hermione's name and she drew out Harry's. Harry called out
Seamus' name, he called out Ron's and Neville's name was then the last. Ginny felt
quite a measure of relief that Luna and Seamus were on different teams - she was positive Luna
wouldn't have been able to stop herself from making some reference to Seamus' temporary
“defection” during Harry's Fifth Year.

Because Ginny had organised the game and come up with the various charades she would, she
informed them, be the “adjudicator”. She then instructed them to, `go to opposite sides of the room
and choose a team name and the order you're going to play in.'

Dean, Luna, Harry and Ron decided with much merriment that they were the Wedding Planners and
would take their turns in the order they were called out in. Because they came up with the team
name, Dean wanted to know who'd been watching more “chick flicks” - Harry or Ron - but they
weren't saying…

Priscilla, Hermione, Seamus and Neville called themselves the Knights of Bus; prompting
Priscilla to ask, `Not the “Knights of Ni”?'

This remark, while it drew a long, hearty laugh from Hermione and Seamus thanks to their Muggle
upbringing, managed to draw a look of complete bewilderment from Neville. Priscilla valiantly tried
to explain Monty Python to her fiancé until Hermione took pity and managed to stop laughing to say,
`Don't worry Neville, when we have a free weekend we will introduce you to Monty
Python.'

*Can't wait!* thought Neville, not sure whether he wanted to “meet” this Monty Python
or not…

Ginny “introduced” the teams to each other.

`The Knights of Bus? What sort of name is that?' asked Ron, so Neville told him, `You, me
and Luna - as soon as you're back from the honeymoon - party at my place - we all meet Monty
Python together.' He wasn't meeting this weirdo alone.

Luna stared at Neville. `Monty Who?' She wondered if her father may be interested in doing
an article on this person; he could possibly prove to be rather interesting.

`What's he got to do with the Knights of Bus?' asked a completely lost Ron. Neville
shrugged, looking with undisguised disgust at Dean and Harry who were almost doubled over with
laughter.

Ginny clapped her hands to get everyone's attention, wondering if it wouldn't have been
better for her to name the teams - less commotion! `Come on you lot! Wedding Planners (she rolled
her eyes) this side -' she indicated the seating near the fireplace, `and the Knights of (she
rolled her eyes again) Bus, this side,' and she pointed to the armchairs that had been moved
down near the now-cleared table. The seating had all been arranged so that the two teams could sit
facing each other with plenty of room in between for the acting out of charades. Ginny asked each
team to pick a number between one and ten with Harry and his team getting the closest, giving them
first turn.

Ginny held out an old First Year's pointed hat to Dean who drew a folded piece of parchment
from it. He unfolded it and groaned as he read, *Book: Fantastic Beasts* *& Where to
Find Them.*

Ginny gave each player five minutes in which to get their team mates to guess their charade,
Luna's replica lion hat roaring when the time was up. Hermione and her team members were in
stitches at Dean's attempts to look “fantastic”, then “beastly” before attempting to appear as
though he was looking for something. Luna, Harry and Ron were also laughing so much it hindered
their attempts at guessing and before they knew it their five minutes were up and Ginny announced
what Dean had been trying to act out.

`What?!' cried his team mates in unison.

`How the hell is prancing around like bloody Lockhart supposed to mean “fantastic”?!' called
Ron.

Dean sat down in disgust. `A bloody First Year would've gotten that! Just you wait till
it's your turn!' he laughed.

Harry and Luna couldn't help but laugh although they pulled themselves together when Neville
stood and unfolded his piece of parchment.

`Blimey, Ginny - you like to make it hard for a bloke,' he complained good-naturedly as he
wondered how in hell he was going to act out *Phrase: Draco Dormiens Nunquam
Titillandus**.*

It was Hermione who successfully guessed that Neville's rather good imitation of Draco
Malfoy together with his rather poor imitation of a snoring dragon, finished off with him tickling
Priscilla mercilessly did in fact add up to the Hogwart's motto, “Never Tickle A Sleeping
Dragon”.

Luna gave her team their first point when she did an impressive impersonation of *Thing: A
Golden Snitch**.*

Seamus looked in dismay at *Famous* *Witch or* *Wizard: Albus Dumbledore**,*
but managed to pull it off.

Harry also did a good job of conveying *Book: Hogwarts, A History* by imitating Hermione
reading - his over-the-top impression bringing him a barrage of pillows from the other end of the
room.

Hermione consoled Priscilla after she struggled gamely with *Unpopular Witch or Wizard: Rita
Skeeter.* `Hard to impersonate someone you've only *heard* about,' Hermione told
her.

Ron surprised everyone by taking his team to the lead with his hilarious re-enactment of
*Action: Professor Lockhart Teaching DADA,* Dean and Harry remembering only to well the
disastrous results of *that!*

Hermione's charade, *Action: Bridal Waltz**,* got off to a good start when she
grabbed Seamus and began waltzing with him in a very exaggerated manner (the effect of her
closeness making Seamus step on her toes a couple of times in the process) but it was only when she
dragged Seamus up an imaginary aisle, waving her left hand around, that Priscilla jumped up and
cried out `Bridal waltz!'

`It's a tie!' announced Ginny, brandishing a wrapped parcel shaped suspiciously like a
box of chocolates, `so I keep the prize!'

Dean reached her first.

Needless to say, Ginny quickly decided that sharing was the best policy.

While there was merriment and mayhem at Harry and Hermione's, Lucius Malfoy was sitting in
front of his own fireplace feeling extremely pleased with himself. Things were going as planned and
soon, very soon…

His slow, unpleasantly smug smile said it all...

TO BE CONTINUED…

Author's Note

Chapter Thirteen will, appropriately, be rather unlucky…

Luckily, it's already written and is being revised as you read.

-->



14. Four Weddings & A Funeral - Chapter Thirteen
------------------------------------------------



Author's Note

Hmmmm…aside from thanks a million to the wonderful Kirsti (*Janie waves and blows kisses!*) no
comments today, just read, enjoy and leave me a note! Janie xoxo

FOUR WEDDINGS & A FUNERAL

By Lady Jane

Chapter Thirteen

Ronald Bilius Weasley's wedding day dawned fine and clear and he woke feeling as though
he'd drunk a cauldron full of Felix Felicis. As he stretched the stiffness of sleep from his
body he heard Harry, still asleep across the room, make a snuffling noise which sounded
suspiciously like a mumbled “Hermione” as he turned over. Ron smiled; his Mum wouldn't relent -
only the married couples were able to share rooms!

As he lay there, uncharacteristically contemplative, Ron heard a gentle knock on his door,
watching as it slowly opened to reveal Luna, peering into the room, her face lighting up with a
dazzling smile when her eyes met Ron's.

`Ronald! You're awake!' she whispered as she ran lightly across the room and threw
herself onto him.

`Ooof!' Ron found himself thankful Luna wasn't any heavier as he wrapped his arms around
his fiancée and turned so that they were lying on their sides, facing each other. `I'm so
excited! About everything - about us getting married and I'm so looking forward to seeing Daddy
at lunch today!' Luna kissed him, her silvery eyes sparkling in the morning sun. `I love
you,' she told him.

Ron laughed quietly, a wonderful feeling of joy sweeping through him as he kissed her back. `I
love you, too, Lady Luna. But isn't it supposed to be bad luck to see each other before the
wedding or something?'

Giggling, Luna shrugged. `It isn't possible for us to be unlucky today.'

`Too true,' came a disgruntled grumble from across the room. `At least you two will get
lucky today.' Harry was thinking that he didn't want to stay at the Burrow again before he
and Hermione were married; this waking alone - and *frustrated! -* wasn't a good start to
a young and virile wizard's day.

`Harry!' Ron lifted his head to look over Luna. `Are you being suggestive?'

Harry swung his legs round and put his feet on the floor, stretching and yawning. `Me?
Suggestive? Whatever do you mean?'

`Oh, Ronald, of course he's being suggestive and of course we'll get lucky - it's
tradition - I can't wait!' said Luna. `What about you Harry,' she asked, turning on her
back to look over at Harry, a devilish gleam in her eye, `are you going to get lucky, too?'

`Absolutely, if I've got anything to do with it!' replied Harry, laughing, as he threw
his pillow at his two friends. Ron caught it and threw it straight back, `Take that, Potter! Dare
to attack my fiancée!'

`Pillow fight! Ron's room!' yelled Ginny's from the doorway as she launched herself
at Harry to wrestle his pillow from him.

Hermione ran along the hall, stopping momentarily in the doorway, laughing as she took in the
situation before waving her wand in the direction of her room and calling, `Accio pillow!'

Ginny's loud announcement travelled well and somehow Dean, Neville, Priscilla, Fred and
George all managed to squeeze into Ron's not overly-large room together with their pillows
before Mrs Weasley gave up yelling at them from the bottom of the stairs and stormed up to stand in
the doorway, her hands on her hips and a furious look on her face. `*Would you all stop acting
like children!'*

Not one of the pillow-swinging, cushion-dodging children took a scrap of notice and despite
herself, Molly Weasley felt her heart soften as she watched them, realising how wonderful it was
that they were all here, unhurt, whole and happy. Smiling, she shook her head, rolled her eyes and
unnoticed, slipped back downstairs to begin breakfast preparations. *Now* that *will get
them out of there,* she thought smugly, *a* *few whiffs of bacon and eggs*
*frying* *and they'll stampede!*

It was Ron, of course, that caught that first whiff of bacon and eggs.

`Breakfast!' he bellowed, bringing a halt to the mayhem as pushed Dean aside, yelling,
`We're outta here!' and taking Luna's hand, ran for the door.

`Last one down's a rotten egg!' cried Fred as he bolted after them, George close on his
heels. Dean and Ginny were in front of Neville who grabbed Priscilla's hand and followed them,
leaving Harry on his bed, leaning against the wall, his knees bent, still laughing. Hermione
dropped down beside him, tucking her legs underneath her, laughing with him. `We're going to be
rotten eggs, you know,' she told him with a grin.

Harry put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her to him and with his free hand brushed her
hair back from her face, his fingers lingering on her cheek. Her face was slightly flushed from
exertion, her lips curved in a happy smile and her eyes glowing as she looked up at him. `Maybe we
should have a shower so we don't smell like rotten eggs, what do you think?' Harry had a
lustful gleam in his eye as he remembered the last time they'd taken a shower together at the
Burrow. Hermione, whose hand was resting lightly on Harry's chest, could feel the vibration in
his chest as he spoke, loving the potently masculine combination of his deep voice and firm,
muscular chest.

For a second, Hermione closed her eyes, a small sound escaping her as she absorbed Harry's
voice, full of desire for her and revelled in the wonderful, familiar smell of him and the
*feel* of him… her hand slid down over his hard stomach as she slowly opened her eyes…
Harry's legs straightening as her fingers skimmed the band of his boxers. The look in his eyes
as he gazed at her made her breath catch in her throat and just as she closed her fingers around
Harry's *extremely hard* evidence of his lust for her, causing his head to drop back and a
low growl to form in his throat, they heard Ron pounding up the stairs, probably two at a time, his
voice echoing along the hallway. `Oy! You two! Get a move on! Mum says breakfast'll get
cold!'

Harry groaned and grabbed the closest pillow and threw it at the door. `Bugger off Weasley!'
he called out good-naturedly.

Hermione giggled, removing her hand and pushing herself off the bed just as Ron appeared in the
doorway, bending to pick up the pillow.

`Unlucky, eh, Potter?' he smirked, waggling his eyebrows and giving Hermione a wink as he
tossed the pillow back to Harry.

`I can't imagine what you mean, Ron,' said Hermione imperiously as she swept past him
and out of the room.

Ron laughed, then held out his hand to help Harry up and the two friends found themselves
standing there, their hands gripped in a frozen handshake, their eyes locked, suddenly serious.

`We made it, we're here today,' said Ron, `thanks to you.'

`And I did it, thanks to you,' replied Harry, his grip tightening.

Then a smile broke across both their faces and they grinned foolishly at each other.

`C'mon - my bloody breakfast is getting cold,' said Ron.

As they neared the kitchen, they heard Ginny's voice.

`What I want to know is, how come we got tea and toast on our wedding day,' she complained
as she dipped her toast into her egg, `and for Ron's we get the works?'

`And would you have *eaten* all this on your wedding day, dear?' inquired Mrs Weasley
as she passed the strawberry jam to her husband.

`Not the point,' said Ginny stubbornly, suppressing the urge to smile as Dean gently nudged
her, smilingly siding with her mother.

Harry sat down next to Hermione who was already buttering some toast and as he helped himself to
some bacon, eggs, tomatoes and sausages, he leant over to whisper in her ear, `You haven't
gotten back to me on my offer of a shower.'

Hermione glanced around the table then turned and smiled at him. `I don't think we'd get
away with it today, Mr Potter.'

She couldn't help but laugh softly as Harry pretended to look very put out. `Don't
worry, I'll make it up to you tonight!' she promised him.

`Tonight?' came Harry's agonised whisper, a forkful of food frozen halfway on its way to
his mouth as he gazed at her. `*Tonight!* I don't know if it's possible for me to last
that long!'

`I'd say you're about to find out,' replied Hermione, leaning forward and kissing
him lightly on the mouth.

`Cruel beyond belief - I had no idea!' Harry rolled his eyes as he put his fork into his
mouth.

`You think you're the only one that'll be suffering, do you? Shows how little *you*
know, Harry Potter!' Hermione replied, wrinkling her nose at him as she swiped him playfully on
the arm.

Their banter was interrupted by Mr Weasley getting to his feet and clearing his throat to gain
everyone's attention.

`As you all know,' he began, smiling at Ron and Luna, `we have the happy task of getting
ready for another wedding today. We'll be having lunch at one and the ceremony begins at four
thirty. We aren't having quite as many people this time - mainly due to the fact that
Dean's family outnumbers Luna's by about fifty to one I think! Now, I believe
everyone's familiar with what they need to do: any problems, come and see me, any hunger pangs,
come and see Molly.' This remark caused general laughter and got Mr Weasley a friendly swipe on
the arm from his wife. `Otherwise, I'll see you all at lunch, missions accomplished.'

While Arthur Weasley was making his impromptu speech at the breakfast table, Albus Dumbledore
was greeting Draco Malfoy in his office at Hogwarts.

`Good morning, Draco, please, come in, sit down. Tea?'

Draco nodded as he sat. This meeting with Dumbledore about his mother had been put off a number
of times due to various circumstances. It had been frustrating, waiting, watching as his mother
deteriorated in front of his eyes, day by day.

As Dumbledore sipped his own tea, he looked across his desk at his guest, his eyes revealing a
deep sadness which Draco recognised. Putting his cup down with a trembling hand, he asked the old
wizard, `What's wrong? What have you found out?'

Dumbledore gently replaced his cup and steepled his fingers beneath his chin before speaking
gently.

`I'm afraid it's not the news we'd hoped for, Draco. It's unlikely that your
mother will recover, despite our best efforts. Neither myself nor Professor Snape has been able to
find a way to negate the effects of your father's curse. I believe Lucius was aiming only to
affect your mother's state of mind - he probably gave no consideration to any side effects such
as her loss of appetite.' Dumbledore sighed, his gaze sympathetic. `You've told me your
mother's memory seems to be “slipping away” - sadly it will continue to do so, I'm
afraid.'

Draco came to his feet, hatred and rage boiling through him. `No!' He looked around wildly
as though something in the Headmaster's office could help; the occupants of the portraits were
assiduously feigning sleep. Without thinking he moved to a nearby table that held some of
Dumbledore's strange instruments and viciously swept his arm across it, sending the contents
smashing to the floor. He stood hunched, his breathing ragged, staring at the broken pieces
scattered all around his feet.

`Please, Draco,' said Dumbledore softly as he rose to his feet, remaining behind his desk.
`Think of your mother. It would be best if you could spend as much time with her as possible - make
her as happy and comfortable as possible.'

An overwhelming sense of blackness and despair took over Draco, bringing a draining weakness
with it, forcing him to collapse back into his seat with his head in his hands. His hatred for his
father reached newfound depths within him, searing his soul. *I'll kill him. I'll kill
him with my own hands,* he swore to himself. *On my mother's life, I swear I will end
his.*

*

There were some similarities and a number of differences between Ginny and Dean's wedding
day and this day. For one, Mr Lovegood had arranged for Terrific Transfigurations, Inc, to do all
the setting up for the wedding saving everyone a lot of work, although Mr Weasley found himself in
charge of de-gnoming the garden once again; at least this time he had helpers, freed from other
chores thanks to Mr Lovegood's arrangements.

Being autumn, the weather was much cooler than it had been for Ginny and Dean's wedding and
so it would take place in a marquee-style structure, although not one that most Muggles would
recognise. The wizards and witches from Terrific Transfigurations worked hard to create a towering
structure of bluebell-coloured canvas with pennants flying from the peak. The entrance was a wide
sweep of shallow, stone steps leading up to a high archway-shaped opening swathed in yards of more
bluebell coloured silk, held in place by magic. Inside were the guests' seating and at the end
of the aisle those seats formed was where Professor Dumbledore would once more preside. The guests
would be facing what looked like a wall of flowers made up of so many varieties it was almost
impossible to name them all. At the centre of the “flower wall” was a large heart made of green
foliage, across which, with the aid of magic, “Ron” and “Luna” glowed in flowing letters.

Once again, a stone archway had been created in the side of the house leading out to the garden
and the white stone pathway which curved its' way to the marquee.

Molly and Arthur stood just inside the archway, talking in low tones with Luna's father
before he made his way upstairs to see his daughter. Behind them, Harry, Fred and George were
watching as Ginny, Priscilla and Hermione made their way down the stairs.

Harry couldn't take his eyes off Hermione and felt a familiar tightening sensation at the
sight of her. It certainly didn't help that he'd earlier seen what she was wearing
*underneath* the lovely gown she now had on - entirely by accident of course…

*Earlier, t**hey* *had* *all* *been* *moving between bathrooms and
bedrooms getting ready, the Burrow having once more been magically expanded to cope with the
increased number of occupants. Harry had lef**t the bathroom after his shower, his towel
wrapped tightly around his waist,* *and remembered he'd hung his suit* *and robes*
*with* *Hermione's clothes* *in* *the room she* *was sharing* *with
Ginny**. He'd seen Ginny run up the stairs to her mother's room, no doubt to give Luna
a hand, so he felt quite safe in simply* *opening the door and* *walking in without
knocking. He reflexively closed the door behind him as his eyes took in the sight of Hermione, her
back to him as she stood with one leg raised, her foot on the end of her bed as she smoothed her
stockings* *having just put her shoes on**.* *She turned her head and looked over
her shoulder at Harry* *and at the sight of him, naked to the waist with just a towel wrapped
around him,* *fel**t* *a sudden rush of desire shoot through* *her* *- he
knew what it did to her when he walked around wearing a towel like that. Her gaze travelled slowly
down over his chest and hard, flat stomach, still glistening with water from his shower. When she
raised her eyes again, his expression made her* *smi**le* *and* *she*
*straighten**ed* *up**,* *half tur**ning* *towards him**,
aware that she wasn't the only one feeling desire.*

*As their eyes met and locked, Hermione found* *couldn't* *she* *resist*
*- the temptation to tease was just too great - so* *placing her hand on her hip, she*
*said in the most* *provocative* *voice she could manage, `**How do I look?*
*Do you like it?'*

*Harry felt his mouth go dry as his eyes* *dropped,* *travell**ing* *over
every delectable part of Hermione. She was wearing the palest blue bra and knickers - both
appearing to consist of nothing but see-through lace - with* *an* *even paler-blue*
*pair of* *stay up* *stockings**. Her shoes were silver although Harry
couldn't have told you that as his eyes were having trouble deciding which was the most
riveting* *sight - what little he could see of Hermione's cleavage or… `You're wearing
a g-string. To a wedding. A bridesmaid.'* *For some* *unknown* *reason he found
this both a little surprising and arousing at the same time and* *h**e knew that*
*now he'd* *seen this, he was going to have a* *devilishly* **hard** *time
keeping his mind off Hermione that* *whole day**…*

*Hermione, enjoying herself immensely, pretended to pout. `Oh, you don't like it,' she
said in a small, sad, voice**.*

*Harry's eyes snapped to meet hers and Hermione drew in a quick breath. Harry looked as
though he was contemplating crossing the room and simply taking her, then and there.* *It
was* *Hermione* *who now felt her mouth go dry; i**t was a tantalising and arousing
prospect and she wondered if he would… found herself half-hoping**…*

*The spell was broken when Harry suddenly thrust his hands through his wet hair, a shuddering
sigh escaping him.*

*`**Jesus, Hermione - you make it hard for a man to keep his self-control.'
Harry's voice was hoarse* *with suppressed desire* *and Hermione felt the warmth
pooling between her thighs at the sound of it - so masculine and sexy.*

*When he received no reply, Harry glanced up in time to see Hermione's gaze slide down the
length of his body* *once more**, coming to rest on the outline of his now achingly hard
erection beneath his towel.*

*`And you know* *exactly* *what it does to* **my** *self-control when you
walk around like that, Harry,**'* *she told him, her voice husky, her eyes coming
back to rest on his, swimming with need and desire.*

*With an agonised groan,* *Harry took a step back towards the door. `**Damn it,
w**e can't - not now,' he whispered, although in tru**th he felt more like
whimpering - it was taking every ounce of self-control he had* **not** *to walk across the
small distance between them, wrap his arms around Hermione and fall on to the bed with her.*

*`I know. You're right.' Hermione**'s voice was full of* *regret as
she* *leant over to pick up her dress* *off the bed* *-* *the sight this
presented* *making Harry* *wonder* *whether i**t was possible to be this*
*bloody h**ard and not suffer some sort of rupture or injury - and held it* *up*
*in front of her as she turned to face him.*

*`There, you can't see anything now,' said Hermione softly.*

*`Oh, that helps,' said Harry in a choked voice. `Don't you realise there is now a
permanent image burnt into my mind? No escape.' His eyes travelled helplessly over her once
more, his fists clenched by his sides.*

*`Turn around,'* *Hermione told him and when he reluctantly obeyed**, she
stepped into her dress - a flowing silver cascade* *of silky material* *that pooled
around her feet with long sleeves and a wide, rounded neckline; the sleeves and neckline were both
edged with a fine, soft, white* *faux* *fur.* *Her hair, as was all the girls',
sat in soft**, loose* *curls over her head,* *a few strands trailing down her neck
and around her face. Luna had given the girls silver earrings, one in the shape of an “L”, the
other an “R” (**`is* *that for Left and Right?' Ginny had asked, giving all of
them**, including Luna,* *a case of uncontrollable giggles) and a fine silver necklace,
just a simple chain.*

*Hermione walked over to Harry and not daring to touch him, asked him to do up her dress,
which he* *turned to do wit**h trembling fingers. `You look - I just don't have
words, my love,' he said softly* *as she turned to face him once more**, lifting his
fingers to caress her cheek but dropp**ing* *his hand to his side before making contact.
He thought that even such a small touch would cause him to lose the scant control he was
maintaining.* *`I'd better go before someone comes looking for me,'* *he said*
*and Hermione nodded* *in mute agreement, moving away to get Harry's clothes for
him**.* *As she handed them to him, t**hey shared a smile when Harry looked down*
*at his distended towel* *and said, `Thank God we're wearing robes!'*

Hermione brought him back to the present when she stepped off the last stair and moved to his
side, squeezing his hand gently as she took it in hers. Fred and George were making an exaggerated
fuss of Priscilla, causing her to giggle and blush in embarrassed delight as they pretended to
fight over which of them would be her escort.

`Cut it out, Fred,' his mother called from across the room, rolling her eyes. `You know very
well you're Hermione's escort and George is Priscilla's.'

Fred and George exchanged a defiantly mischievous grin and winked at the girls as if to say,
`What she doesn't know won't hurt her!'

`Come on, Harry, give her up!' said George, holding his arm out to Hermione as Fred did the
same to Priscilla.

Ginny waited behind her parents while Harry went upstairs to get Ron, who, a minute later,
walked down the stairs ahead of his best man managing to look blissfully happy and awfully nervous
at the same time. He kissed his mother, who hugged him fiercely, then shook his father's hand
long and hard before setting off to wait for his bride.

As the strains of the traditional Wedding March were heard, Luna appeared at the top of the
stairs, her father beaming proudly behind her. She walked slowly down the stairs, her long, white
silk dress making a soft, rustling sound; it was fitted to the waist and from there flared out to
the floor with no train. She had long sleeves and the same rounded neckline as her bridesmaids,
although no fur trimming. Her long, blonde hair had been curled and was piled on her head in the
same manner as her bridesmaids. She wore silver and diamond jewellery - her earrings were small,
delicate, diamond studded silver radishes which made everyone smile - and her necklace held three
silver charms: a lion's head with diamond eyes, a Butterbeer cork and what appeared to be the
head of some strange animal. Hermione found out later it was a Crumple-Horned Snorkack charm that
her father had had made especially for this day.

In accordance with Wizarding tradition, Luna's father led the procession, followed by Molly
and Arthur, all three parents seating themselves in the front row. Molly watched as Priscilla and
George (or was that Fred?) were next, followed by Hermione and Fred (or George?) and finally, Ginny
and Harry, so that Harry came to stand beside Ron as he waited for Luna and Ginny stood ready to
take Luna's long, trailing bouquet of white roses. Of course, Ron had eyes only for Luna once
she appeared and that didn't change for the rest of the evening, through the ceremony as
Professor Dumbledore named them husband and wife, the lovely dinner and right up until the moment
they left for their honeymoon. Harry commented to Hermione with great amusement that Ron didn't
even look for left overs he was so caught up with his new wife.

The marquee, once dinner was over, was Transfigured to hold a large dance floor - Luna loved
dancing - with comfortable seating and occasional small tables placed around the perimeter. And it
was during the dancing that Harry began suffering from something he wasn't accustomed to when
it came to Hermione: jealousy.

You see, Harry Potter could dance. Passably well.

Seamus Finnigan could also dance. Brilliantly.

This guaranteed he had the girls fighting over a chance to dance with him, much to the resentful
disgust of most of the other men present.

*So why was* *it,* thought Harry bitterly, *he seemed to keep* *choosing to*
*danc**e* *with Hermione* *more than any of the others**?*

He sat and watched as Hermione and Seamus once more swept majestically around the dance floor,
Hermione laughing breathlessly up at Seamus as they went, her eyes aglow with pure enjoyment.

`Who would've thought the bastard could dance?' grumbled Dean as he plonked himself down
next to Harry. He'd already watched Ginny eagerly take the floor a couple of times with the
dancing wizard who was one of his best mates and it had definitely put his nose out of joint.

`When's he going back to Ireland?' asked Harry through clenched teeth. He couldn't
believe the size and tightness of the knot in his stomach and as well as that, it felt as though
Hagrid was sitting on his chest, instead of dancing with his fiancée, Madame Maxine.

`Not for a week,' ground out Dean. `And Ginny's already talking about organising a night
out later this week - *to go dancing.*' He was also feeling somewhat neglected what with
Ginny going from dancing with Seamus to fussing over Luna and not spending as much time with him as
he'd like.

`Over my dead body,' replied Harry, his eyes never leaving Seamus and Hermione. *Dammit
but he was holding her close! She was pressed up against him the way she was usually pressed
against* him! It didn't help that he'd spent all afternoon with that image of a
barely-clad Hermione dancing in his head and thinking about that night - imagining when he and
Hermione would be alone. This *fiasco* was souring his anticipation. Hermione was *his*
damn it!

`Over your dead *non-dancing* body,' retorted Dean sourly.

Harry stiffened when he saw them slow down, enabling Seamus to Accio a pale pink rose from the
“flower wall” and present it to Hermione with a flourish, not a missing a step as he did so.
Hermione's tinkling laugh of delight, followed by her placing a quick kiss of thanks on
Seamus' cheek, brought Harry to his feet, jealousy roiling through him.

Dean grabbed his arm, urging him to sit down, but Harry shook off the restraining hand and
stalked away. *That's* **my** *woman you're flirting with, Seamus Finnigan!*
he thought furiously as he moved passed Priscilla and Neville who were standing beside the dance
floor; they exchanged a knowing look - they had overheard Harry and Dean's conversation and had
been aware of Harry's escalating anger. Neville had wagered Priscilla that Harry wouldn't
last out this dance before he went to claim Hermione.

`I win!' said Neville triumphantly.

But Priscilla was taken with something else. `Wow!' she whispered as Harry rushed by them
and the air around them seemed to become electric in his wake. `What was that?' She looked up
at Neville, her blue eyes questioning.

`That,' said Neville succinctly, `is *Harry Potter*.' Priscilla nodded,
understanding what he meant. Harry exuded an aura of power as he swept by them - an aura that
affected anyone nearby, evident from the puzzled looks and turned heads. It was entirely
unconscious on Harry's part and if he was truly angry, it could be dangerous - something
Neville had experienced first hand.

The music ended just as Harry reached Seamus and Hermione, both of whom were laughing and
clapping, Hermione still clutching the rose Seamus had given her.

Seamus turned to Harry, instantly aware of his friend's state of mind - something he
encountered frequently in other men when it came to dancing. Without missing a beat, he brought
Hermione's hand to his lips, thanking her for the dance. `And now, I think, your fiancée would
like to take over,' he finished with a smile at Harry before diplomatically disappearing
through the crowd.

Harry hated that Hermione looked so infused with joy because of another man - yet she was so
beautiful he felt himself soften.

`Would you like to go for a walk?' he asked her, wanting to get her alone.

`Oh no! I'd like to dance - with *you* - please!'

Harry groaned inwardly. How could he say no? And how could he possibly compare with Seamus?

Hermione sensed his reluctance and moved into his arms. `Please, Harry. Just one dance, the two
of us.'

Thankfully it was a slow dance and as he held Hermione against him he felt his jealousy begin to
dissipate in the wake of the rising heat in his body. Hermione was pressed against him along the
full length of their bodies and she was still managing to sway slightly; he became intensely aware
of the feeling of her breasts pushing into his chest, the rhythmic movement of her hips against his
once again throbbing erection. He buried his head in the soft, fragrant crook of her neck, moaning
softly.

`I wanted to kill him,' he murmured.

`Kill? Who?'

`Seamus.'

Harry didn't see the smile of understanding that lifted the corners of Hermione's mouth
as she said, `I see.'

Harry lifted his head and looked down at her, his green eyes darkened with the memory of his
jealousy.

`You certainly looked as though you were enjoying yourself,' he said darkly, hoping she
would refute it, whether it was true or not.

`Oh, I was! I've never danced with anyone like that before - it was wonderful!'

`Is that so?' Harry's tone was biting. Somehow the fact that he couldn't dance like
Seamus was making him feel inexplicably inadequate and consequently rather cross.

However, Hermione knew when enough was enough. She exerted enough pressure with the hand that
was resting on Harry's neck to bring his face close enough for her to kiss him - which she did,
passionately.

As their lips parted, Hermione looked into his eyes. `Harry, it's you I want, not Seamus. I
don't care how beautifully he dances. I'll always want you and only you.'

Harry felt the knot in his stomach slowly unravel as he gave Hermione a lopsided smile. `Then do
me a favour and ditch that bloody rose,' he said gruffly.

Hermione “threw” the rose back at the flower wall where it settled itself amongst the other
flowers once more.

`So, jealous, were we?' asked Hermione archly as she turned back to look up at Harry.

Harry shrugged and smiled. `A little.' Hermione gracefully lifted one sceptical eyebrow.
Harry rolled his eyes. `All right, a *lot!*' he admitted and then his gaze became serious,
his voice roughening, `I really did feel like killing him. Seeing another man hold you like that,
making you laugh, giving you a rose -' Harry couldn't finish. Hermione felt a perverse
thrill at the thought of Harry being jealous, a thrill which her body seemed to consider an
aphrodisiac to be converted to a heightened level of desire. She placed both her arms around
Harry's neck as she slowly and deliberately began moving her hips in time with the drifting
notes of the music, knowing the friction must be almost unbearable for Harry but wanting his desire
to match her own. Wrapping his arms tightly around her, Harry placed his lips against her ear.
`Please, let's go!' he whispered desperately.

`Not much longer,' she whispered back as she promised, `Once everyone's in bed, I'll
come to you. Wait for me.'

Considering the way he felt at the moment, Harry thought it was entirely possible Hermione would
arrive to find he'd expired with sheer frustration by that time. Seamus, who had caught
glimpses of the pair as he moved around the dance floor with another eager partner, was full of
envy as he watched Hermione kissing Harry and their intimate whisperings. *I hope he really
appreciates how lucky he is,* he thought to himself.

After what seemed like an eternity to Harry, Ron and Luna finally took their leave, both looking
supremely happy; they were rapidly followed by everyone else not staying at the Burrow and a tired
but happy Mrs Weasley made it known she was very grateful this time that she didn't have to
worry about “all that cleaning up” as she and Mr Weasley made their way to bed.

Because Ron and Luna's wedding had started much later than Ginny and Dean's and
consequently finished much later, no one felt any inclination to stay up and very soon everyone was
in bed.

Harry lay alone in Ron's room, waiting, a sinking feeling in his stomach as the minutes
ticked by. *What if Hermione fell asleep?* He shifted uncomfortably, aware he'd been so
horny for so long that day he wasn't sure he'd be able to muster enough self-control to
“last the distance”. His body tensed when he heard the unmistakeable sound of the door handle being
turned, the soft padding of bare feet and then the *snick* as the door was closed once more.
He threw the covers back as he heard her whisper a locking charm followed by a silencing spell and
then the faint smell of her perfume reached him just before he felt the bed move as she sat down.
Harry reached out for her, desperate to feel his arms around her.

`Lumos,' he heard her whisper and a soft glow was cast by her wand, which she laid on the
floor beside the bed.

Harry felt a rush when he saw that she was wearing the same underwear he'd seen her in that
afternoon; her hair was still in curls on top of her head although many more strands were now
curled around her neck. She stretched out beside him, her arms above her head, her back slightly
arched as she smiled seductively at him. `All yours,' she whispered. Harry found he
couldn't speak as he roughly grasped Hermione around her waist and pulled her up so that she
was half-lying on top of his naked form, her legs straddling his hips. She leant down and kissed
him hungrily at the same as she reached around to undo the clasp on her bra - she was impatient for
the feel of Harry's hands and lips - everywhere; she'd waited all day for this.

Harry watched as she tossed her bra aside before she stood above him to take her knickers off,
throwing them after her bra. Kneeling over him once more, she threw her head back as he hungrily
ran his hands over her hips and up the silky skin of her stomach before closing them around her
firm breasts, his thumbs grazing her taut nipples. The deliciously soft, needful sounds she made at
his touch had the effect of making his already straining erection even harder and Harry felt his
heart racing, his breathe becoming hard and fast.

`Hermione...' it was barely more than a gasp and then she was there, her face inches from
his, her eyes looking into his, as full of lust and love as his were - there wasn't enough air
in his lungs to speak, but as he looked into her eyes, so close to his, he could see in them what
she wanted: him. Now.

Hermione raised herself slightly on her knees, positioning herself, keeping her gaze locked on
Harry's as she slowly impaled herself on his now painfully hard erection. A deep groan was
forced from Harry, taking with it his self-control as Hermione's incredible warm, wet tightness
enveloped him. When he felt her begin to lift herself slightly off him, Harry instinctively pushed
up with his hips, dropping his hands to grip Hermione's waist strongly so that he could prevent
her from going any further. Through half-closed eyes, he saw her watching him with her lips parted,
her breasts rising and falling rapidly with her heavy breathing. Seeing Harry looking at her,
Hermione lifted her hands to push some stray strands of hair from her face, then slowly and
deliberately ran her hands down the sides of her neck to her breasts, lingering to caress them
softly. Harry was unable to tear his eyes away from her fingers as they brushed over her nipples
before continuing down the firm lines of her stomach until they reached the point where he entered
her. Then it hit him suddenly: an explosion of ecstasy ripping through his entire body, his back
arching as he cried out Hermione's name.

When his breathing had slowed enough to allow him to speak, Harry looked up at Hermione,
suddenly feeling desolate that he hadn't been able to control himself longer for her but as he
was about to speak, Hermione placed her fingertips gently to his lips with a soft, `sshh'.

`Harry,' she continued in the same, soft voice, `I knew you'd need that after today -
and don't worry, my turn will come.' She smiled provocatively. `After all, we have all
night.'

`I love you,' he told her as he drew her down so that he could kiss her. Harry felt
overwhelmed with an enormous feeling of smug satisfaction. Seamus could keep his dancing. He had
Hermione. And Seamus didn't. So there.

Elsewhere in the house all was silent and almost everyone slept. There was one exception,
someone who waited until everyone was in bed, laying quietly in the dark for some time before
slipping from their own bed, walking silently down the hall, stopping before one of the other rooms
and listening for a moment. No sound greeted them and they quietly entered the room and moved to
the bed, gently shaking the shoulder of one of the occupants, waiting until they were conscious
enough to hold a whispered conversation.

`All right, I'm coming.' The one that had been woken got up and followed the waker from
the room.

`Ginny?' came Dean's sleepy voice.

`Go back to sleep, honey - I won't be long,' Ginny whispered as she closed the door.

The next morning when he woke alone, Dean wondered why Ginny had gotten up before him - it
wasn't like her at all. He threw on a dressing gown and made his way down to the kitchen,
assuming he'd find her there, making tea.

But he didn't. Not then, not there. Not anywhere. There was no trace of her. And after
everyone had been woken and questioned it became shatteringly clear: Whoever had come into their
room in the dying hours of the night and woken Ginny had been someone she knew and trusted.
*Appeared* to be someone she knew and trusted. And she'd simply gone with them without
question, without anyone hearing a thing.

Their nightmare had begun.

In the evening of that same day, two black-robed men approached what appeared to the local
Muggles as a small, tangled, untidy copse of old trees. The two black-robed men, being wizards,
could see the mansion that was there, although it looked deserted. They stood on the appointed spot
and waited. Within a minute an object appeared on the ground at their feet: a Portkey. They picked
it up together, seconds later finding themselves facing Lucius Malfoy who was seated at his dining
table, his half eaten dinner before him.

He gestured abruptly for them to sit down, calling for his house-elf, Latro, to set another two
places and bring some food for the two new arrivals.

Once this was done, Malfoy looked down the length of the formally set dining table at the two
Death Eaters, both originally recruited by the Dark Lord himself; he, Lucius Malfoy, had increased
the ranks of the Death Eaters of late with a few of his own recruits.

`It's as I told you,' sneered Lucius Malfoy, `there is no problem without a solution and
Potter is not infallible.'

The two Death Eaters, Nott and Carrows, nodded at Malfoy in silent acknowledgement as they began
to eat. He *had* been right - there was a flaw in the protective charm placed around the
Mudblood and he had found it, enabling them to execute the first stage of the idea conceived by
their new master: taking Ginevra Weasley hostage. She was at this very moment in one of the spare
bedrooms upstairs, magically bound.

`Have you sent the owl to Hogwarts? To Draco?' asked Malfoy, his voice hardening at the
mention of the man he no longer considered to be his son.

`Yes, Lord Malfoy, it'd been done.'

Lucius picked up his glass of blood-red wine, turning it slowly against the light of the candles
sitting at the centre of the table, appearing to admire it.

`Then we wait. He'll be here soon.' He raised his glass in a mocking toast, a look of
smug triumph on his face. `I look forward to having his help in bringing Potter's accursed
Mudblood here to join her friend upstairs. Then the fun will really begin.' The two Death
Eaters felt an icy chill pass through them as their master's cold, barely human eyes came to
rest on them, a cruel smile playing about his mouth.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Author's Note

It's getting a little darker and colder in the Four Weddings universe folks...

-->



15. Four Weddings & A Funeral - Chapter Fourteen
------------------------------------------------



Author's Note

Won't keep you folks - you read and I'll get back to writing!

And as always, kudos to Kirsti for being the BEST beta! - Janie xoxo

FOUR WEDDINGS & A FUNERAL

By Lady Jane

Chapter Fourteen

Molly Weasley refused to back down: Ron and Luna would be left undisturbed on their honeymoon,
as least for the time being.

`Nothing will be gained by dragging them back,' she maintained. `There's enough sadness
and worry here as it is without destroying Ron and Luna's memories of their honeymoon as
well.'

`Ron would want to know,' insisted her husband although he knew he wouldn't change his
wife's mind and besides, she did have a point.

The whole Weasley clan was gathered at the Burrow, as well as Harry, Hermione, Dean and
Priscilla; Fleur, who was now pregnant, had stayed home in France, she and Bill having returned
there the previous evening following the wedding. Bill assured her that he would Floo her regularly
during the day. Neville had returned to his office to set the official wheels in motion for the
search for Ginny. Even Percy had returned that morning after being owled, only staying long enough
to speak briefly to his parents before leaving again with their reassurances they would keep him
up-to-date. Seamus had gone to stay with the parents of one of the Kestral team members, citing the
overflowing numbers at the Burrow which, while true, wasn't the main reason; the fact was,
he'd feel a slight discomfort around Harry and Hermione just at the moment.

Aside from Flooing Professor Dumbledore at Hogwarts, they'd told no one else of Ginny's
disappearance as yet, perhaps unconsciously hoping that Ginny would miraculously come back and this
could all be put aside as having been nothing but a bad dream.

Molly pushed her chair back from the kitchen table and walked over to the couch where Dean sat,
his head in his hands, resting her hand on his shoulder in a mute gesture of comfort. Since
they'd become certain Ginny was actually missing and knew, in their hearts, that her
disappearance must have something to do with Lucius Malfoy, he hadn't moved from that spot -
nor barely changed his position; he was a living statue depicting despair and pain.

Harry hadn't left Hermione's side - he felt ashamed that his first thought this morning
had been, *Thank God it**'s not* *Hermione!* The terror that had assailed him
when it first became definite that Ginny was missing had paralysed him - he hadn't been able to
speak or think - he'd just held Hermione to him as tightly as possible. The fact that the mere
*thought* of Hermione being taken from him again was able to do this frightened him; he
realised he was still carrying a terribly deep-set insecurity over his powerlessness to keep
Hermione safe - that insecurity having become the foundation of the Cautus Contego Charm. *The
flawed Cautus Contego Charm!* said a mocking voice inside his head. He shook it off,
concentrating on thoughts of staying with Hermione and keeping her safe.

The atmosphere in the Burrow was uncharacteristically bleak and hopeless. When Fred rose
suddenly from his seat he startled everyone, causing them to jump as he started pacing in front of
the kitchen fire.

`Damn it! We can't just *sit* here and do *nothing!*' he cried in frustration,
voicing a thought that was uppermost in all their minds.

At that moment, Albus Dumbledore walked in the door having Apparated from Hogwarts. His solemn
expression took in the scene in the kitchen as he joined them at the table, absentmindedly waving
his hand to conjure up a chair. Molly rose and began brewing a fresh pot of tea, watching as the
old wizard drank some Invenios Elixir.

Fred, frozen in mid-pace, watched from in front of the fireplace. `That bloody Elixir didn't
keep my sister from being kidnapped!' he burst out.

Dumbledore looked at him. `Indeed it did not, Fred. And for a very good reason: we have been
guarding against a method that I doubt is being used much any longer by Lucius Malfoy and his
henchmen.'

The atmosphere altered immediately, becoming expectantly tense, all eyes on the Headmaster who
waited for Molly to place a cup of tea in front of him before speaking. Taking a sip, he looked at
each of them over his half-moon spectacles.

`I have some rather unfortunate news,' he began. `It was almost probably one of you here -
less likely you, Molly, or you, Arthur, due to age and experience - that woke Ginny this morning
and led her away, under the influence of the Imperius Curse.'

No one made a sound. They simply waited, staring at the Professor who turned and looked Harry in
the eye; everyone's gaze following Dumbledore's as they too, looked at Harry, waiting.

`The Cautus Contego Charm has a weakness, Harry which I have tested for myself. It cannot detect
danger in a person who is under the Imperius Curse.' Dumbledore stopped and waited for this
information to sink in.

Harry felt an uncontrollable wave of sick fear wash over him. His gaze didn't leave the
Headmaster's, who watched as if seeing Harry's thoughts forming behind his eyes.

*The Imperius Curse! It meant* *Lucius* *Malfoy didn't have to rely solely on
using the Polyjuice Potion to infiltrate the Ministry or anywhere else he wanted**; Polyjuice
Potion would have been a lot less useful since they'd begun using* *Invenios Elixir on a
regular basis. And even if it a Death Eater* *did* *take Polyjuice Potion to impersonate
someone, they would* *consent* *to Malfoy putting the* *Imperius* *Curse on
them to ensure they wouldn'**t be detected!*

Endless possibilities chased each other through Harry's mind, each one plunging him further
into a well of horror. A hoarse whisper escaped him, breaking the terrible silence in the room.

`*Sweet Mother of Merlin...*'

Dumbledore's gaze was sympathetic as it rested on Harry for a moment longer before the
Professor stood up, once again drawing all eyes to himself. `I have someone waiting outside who has
more information about Miss Weasley's whereabouts.'

Arthur sprang to his feet, tipping his chair over as Molly cried out and ran towards the door,
wrenching it open, only to stagger back a little as Draco Malfoy walked into the room.

As Dumbledore conjured another chair, everyone heard a low, guttural growl, filled with pain and
hatred. Dean hadn't laid eyes on Draco Malfoy since Ginny had been in the hospital wing at
Hogwarts over three months before, and on that occasion he'd found inside himself something he
hadn't thought was possible: an overwhelming desire to kill another human being.

And once more the object of that terrible desire was standing before him. Dean, drowning in
helplessness and horror, saw Draco as the symbol of his pain and loss and launched himself across
the room, intending to kill the tall, blonde wizard with his bare hands. Because of the
unexpectedness of his attack, no one moved for a crucial few seconds, allowing Dean to reach his
target and lock his hands around his throat, squeezing - *Die you bastard! You deserve to
die!*

Dumbledore reacted first, whipping his wand from his robes and waving it at Dean, causing him to
crumple to the floor.

Fred ran around the table and was quickly joined by George and Harry, all of them leaning down
to pick Dean up and carry him back to the couch.

`He's merely asleep,' the Professor assured them. `Best he remains that way for now, I
think.'

As everyone sat down once more, Arthur, while not taking his eyes off Draco, waved his chair
upright and sat down again at the head of the table, Molly to his right. George sat on his
mother's other side and his twin next to him. Molly looked sympathetically at a forlorn looking
Priscilla, sitting between Fred and Hermione and was glad to see Hermione take her friend's
hand; Priscilla would be as scared as the rest of them and missing Neville.

Harry put his arm around Hermione's shoulders and after a sharing a look of trepidation with
Bill who was sitting next to his father, let his gaze move past Charlie, seated beside Bill, to the
other end of the table where Dumbledore was sitting with Draco on his right.

`Draco received an owl this morning, from his father. Ginny is being held at Malfoy Manor by
Lucius Malfoy.' Dumbledore spoke quietly and matter-of-factly. No one was looking at Draco - no
one noticed the look of utter anguish that flashed in his pale eyes as the Professor spoke.

`Why?' There was both anguish and anger in Molly's voice as the single word was wrung
from her.

Dumbledore gave his head a slight shake. `He didn't say. However, my belief is that Lucius
is aware of his son's,' the old wizard hesitated delicately, `*feelings* for Miss
Weasley and as we all know, he has wanted to wreak revenge on Draco for sometime, something that
partly motivated him to escape from Azkaban when he did. Lucius, of course, is fully aware that
Hogwarts offers his son the strongest protection. Now, however, he doesn't have to get to Draco
- he has ensured that Draco will come to him. He has told Draco to come to Malfoy Manor or he will
harm Miss Weasley.'

`When are you leaving?' Harry's voice was hard and cold, his long held hatred for this
man evident in his gaze.

Draco returned Harry's gaze steadily. `Soon.' He offered no further information.

`Draco will be coming with me to the Ministry where we will be meeting Mr Longbottom. He's
expecting us shortly. I would ask that you all wait here, if possible - and take care of Mr Thomas,
as I know you will. He should sleep for about eight hours.' The Professor stood, as did Draco.
`I will come and see you the instant we have any news and in any case, I will return and let you
know what our course of action will be and when Draco will be leaving.'

The Headmaster nodded in farewell and turned to leave, Draco in his wake.

A stunned silence hung over the room after they departed, broken by Molly who, after openly
wiping tears from her eyes, rose and went to Dean, drawing a blanket over him. Then she stood there
beside him and began crying in earnest, Arthur quickly joining her, pulling her into his arms and
attempting to comfort her.

Bill, Charlie, Fred and George decided to go for a walk - sitting and waiting was not something
they did well.

Priscilla also took her leave, telling Hermione she needed to *do* something and that she
would go to work, pass off Hermione's absence as a continuation of family celebrations due to
the wedding, then contact Neville.

`Are you sure?' asked Hermione as she walked to the door with Priscilla, concerned that she
was going to be alone.

Priscilla nodded, smiling bravely. `Of course I am. I'll be fine - Neville's there. And
I know I can come back if I need to.'

`Make sure you don't forget that,' Hermione told her just before her
workmate-turned-friend Disapparated.

Harry and Hermione decided to go for a walk also, making their way to the ancient, carved wooden
bench which sat on a rise overlooking a small lake - the very spot where Harry had proposed to
Hermione. They sat, Harry's arm around Hermione's shoulders, her head resting in the crook
of his neck, both watching as some ducks swam lazily across the lake. It was now well past noon and
the afternoon was becoming increasingly chilly. Hermione shivered, despite her warm coat.

Harry struggled with his thoughts, wondering how best to say what he wanted to tell her. In the
end, he decided it was easier to just say exactly what he was thinking.

`Hermione, I will not be leaving you alone for as much as a second until this is resolved. Not
for any reason. *Not for a second and not for any reason,*' he repeated, his voice almost
harsh in his attempt to emphasise his words. He could no longer trust the protective charm he and
Dumbledore had placed on her.

He was a little surprised, but relieved when Hermione simply nodded; he'd been afraid she
was going to argue about it. However, when she spoke, it was as though she'd been lost in her
own thoughts and hadn't really heard him.

`Harry?' Hermione's voice was soft and held fear; it wrenched at him to hear it. `Lucius
Malfoy's after you, you know that, don't you?' Harry nodded. `And he's using Ginny
to get to you - and his own son - and he's going to try and use me -'

`He won't get you!' Harry's voice was almost a growl, his grip on Hermione
tightening convulsively.

`But he's got Ginny. And we have to get her back. We have to do whatever is necessary to get
her back.'

There was something in her voice that caused a cloud of sick horror to descend on him and he sat
silently while an internal war began - he was fighting against understanding what Hermione meant.
He *refused* to believe she could even contemplate -

`Ginny did it for me - I can do no less for her.'

`**NO!**'

Harry sprang to his feet in front of Hermione, leaning over her, his shoulders hunched and
tense, his fists clenched, his face contorted with a dreadful fear and horror - once again
radiating that unmistakeable aura of power that seemed to become most apparent under duress.

Hermione felt sick at knowing what this was doing to Harry - but she also knew she needed to do
what was right. And it was right to help Ginny. Ginny had agreed to be a “decoy” in order to
capture the Death Eaters who'd kidnapped Hermione and Hermione knew Ginny hadn't hesitated
for a second when asked to help.

Looking up at Harry, Hermione gave him a wavering smile. `Please, Harry, you know it may well be
the only way - if there is another way, then we'll do it. But I want to see Neville - and
Professor Dumbledore. They need to know I'm prepared to do whatever is necessary to
help.'

Harry shook his head violently. `I will go, it's me he wants. He is not getting his hands on
you.'

Hermione looked down at her clasped hands, twisting in her lap. `If that's what Neville and
Professor Dumbledore say is best, but…' *I'll have to tell him,* she thought, *I
can't keep it from him**, now that I know what it means**.*

`But what?' prompted Harry.

Hermione looked up at him, her eyes filling with tears. `I also received an owl early this
morning - I didn't know exactly what it meant until after Professor Dumbledore spoke to us. Now
I know I have to go and see Neville and the Professor. I have to tell them about the owl and see
what I should do.'

Harry didn't know if he could stand anymore - his nails were digging painfully into his
palms, he felt as though he was shaking all over. `Who was it from and what did it say?' he
ground out, afraid of the answer.

`It was from Lucius Malfoy. It said, “When the time comes, if you are not alone, she will die.”
I'm sure it must mean that when it's time for me to go to Malfoy Manor it must be alone, or
he will kill Ginny.'

Harry felt his legs give way, pain shooting through him as his knees hit the ground. He was
shaking his head, looking at Hermione helplessly; he had no words.

Tears were now running freely down Hermione's face. She reached out and took Harry's
hands, wrapping her small fingers around his cold, clenched fists, gazing into the green depths she
loved so much.

`It will be all right, somehow, it will be all right,' she whispered. Harry freed his hands
from her grasp and wrapped his arms around her, drawing her to kneel with him, unable to speak. He
tried to believe her - he tried to feel that it was possible for everything to be all right again -
but at this moment he couldn't see through the thick, oppressive cloud of encompassing terror
that was descending on him…

*

Neville put his elbows on his desk, dropping his head into his hands; he felt exhausted and it
had only just gone noon.

He'd returned to his office as soon as it became apparent that there was something sinister
about Ginny's disappearance and shortly afterwards had received an owl from Professor
Dumbledore. He was now waiting for the Professor and Draco Malfoy to arrive.

When they did, Draco quickly made it clear that he was prepared to do whatever was necessary to
ensure Ginny's safety.

`You realise,' said Dumbledore to Neville, `that Draco's father undoubtedly knows of his
feelings for Miss Weasley and is using them to manipulate him.'

`He's using them well,' said Draco curtly. He not only had his mother as motivation to
kill his father - he now also had Ginevra.

They spent the next few hours discussing the myriad courses of action and options available to
them. Later that afternoon, after they'd felt as though they'd exhausted every possibility,
Neville received an owl from Harry advising him he and Hermione would be arriving shortly with new
information. Immediately on arrival, they were shown into Neville's office.

`Where are Sunny and Lucky?' asked Hermione as she took a seat next to Professor Dumbledore,
Harry sitting on her other side, `I didn't see them anywhere.' Neville explained that he
hadn't told either Sunny or Lucky about the current situation as he believed the fewer people
that knew the better. `Besides,' he said, `I can't be sure whether or not one or even both
of them are under the influence of the Imperius Curse. On top of that, there's the possibility
they may be Malfoy's minions using Polyjuice Potion.' Neville sighed; he missed the
normally invaluable help of his two best officers but it was just too risky to use them at the
moment.

Leaning forward on his desk, Neville looked at Hermione. `So what's this new information
Hermione?' he asked her.

And so she told him about the owl from Lucius (handing the original to Neville as she spoke) and
explained that she was quite prepared to do whatever was necessary to help free Ginny.

Neville glanced at Harry when Hermione spoke and he alone saw the dreadful expression in
Harry's eyes.

He felt fear himself then because he knew that if anything - *anything!* - happened to
Hermione the consequences would more than likely be explosive. And probably fatal for someone
involved.

*

It was just as Molly was serving up dinner that Dumbledore, Neville, Harry and Hermione arrived
back at the Burrow. Hermione noticed Bill was missing, Fred explaining he'd gone home to be
with Fleur. As she slid into a seat next to him, Hermione asked Fred in a low voice about Ron and
Luna. `Mum's dug her heels in,' Fred whispered back, `she doesn't want him told yet. I
can understand why, but I'm not sure how Ron's going to take it when he finds out.'

Quickly setting places for them, Molly bustled about, glad of the distraction provided by
preparing a meal.

Once everyone was sitting and eating, Professor Dumbledore said quietly, `I imagine you'd
like to know what's going on.' He continued without waiting for an answer. `Draco is making
his way to Malfoy Manor as we sit here. He will attempt to communicate with me via Phineas Nigellus
although we cannot be certain when he'll be able to do so, or even if it will be possible.
Phineas is aware of the situation and even if Draco isn't able to speak to him directly, he
will be listening out for anything he can pass on to us once Draco has arrived.'

`What next Albus?' asked Arthur.

`Until we get further information from Draco or Phineas, we can't be completely certain
about our course of action, although we have a number of options. However, Draco's main
concern, after making sure Miss Weasley is still all right, is to find out how to get in and out of
Malfoy Manor so that we can get some Aurors in there when needed. Whilst we are waiting, and
receiving information, I feel there will be little sleep to be had. Mr Longbottom and I especially
will need to be available to receive and process the information and make decisions as to what
steps to take next. There are no set times that Phineas will be reporting and so we'll need to
have someone in Neville's office around the clock.'

Harry took a deep breath. He had to ask. `Do you think it's possible that we'll be able
to get Ginny back without using anyone besides Malfoy?'

His former Headmaster looked at Harry over his spectacles, sadness and sympathy in his blue
eyes.

`Perhaps, Harry, perhaps,' was all he said.

But it wasn't to be.

The following evening they were all once again sitting around the kitchen table at the Burrow.
However, this time there was no meal being served as no one was hungry, although Molly had put
plates of sandwiches on the table in case anyone did feel like eating something. She simply kept
making cups of tea while Arthur topped up glasses of Butterbeer and Firewhiskey. Dean was once more
amongst them and although he was clearly suffering, it was obvious he was making every attempt to
maintain his composure.

Professor Dumbledore's expression was grave as he surveyed the intent faces looking at him
from every side of the table, Dean's the most attentive - and tense.

His voice was even as he spoke. `Phineas has reported that Draco is mostly being confined to one
of the upstairs bedrooms - the threat of harm to Miss Weasley keeping him there. Fortunately, there
is a landscape oil painting in Draco's room and as yet, Lucius seems to be unaware that Phineas
is able to access the paintings in the Manor, a situation we fervently hope continues. Phineas has
pointed out that there are no portraits in the house, only landscapes; a deliberate choice I would
say that luckily doesn't preclude Phineas from using them. Draco has reported he's been
allowed to see Ginny, although not allowed to speak to her, and she appears unharmed. Phineas has
said as much, too. Also, Draco has told us that he gained entry to the Manor via a Portkey. Other
than that, the situation, as Mr Longbottom puts it, is currently static.'

It galled Dean no end that Draco Malfoy had access to Ginny and he didn't. He knew if Malfoy
put one foot wrong and brought harm to Ginny no one, not even Albus Dumbledore, could stop him
killing Malfoy.

The Professor looked at Harry and as he listened to what the Professor said next, he felt his
world drop away.

`We've received another owl from Lucius demanding that Hermione come to the Manor by sunset
tomorrow or he will kill both Ginny and Draco. And he emphasises again that she is to be
alone.'

Harry suddenly felt as if there wasn't enough air in the room to breathe properly - he could
feel a huge weight pressing on his chest, preventing him from breathing and making his head spin
wildly; he wanted to jump up, gasping for air, and claw his way out of the spinning vortex - but
through his pain he was able to recognise that to lose control now would be disastrous, for
Hermione's sake. *Anything for Hermione.* The Professor watched as Harry's eyes slowly
closed - he knew it was taking an almost superhuman effort for his former pupil to maintain his
self-control in the face of this ultimatum. `Harry,' he said softly, `you know that everything
possible will be done to ensure Hermione's safety - as well as Ginny and Draco's.'

Unable to speak, Harry simply nodded. He could feel Hermione squeezing his hand in an attempt to
convey comfort and reassurance. *When I get there,* he thought coldly, *and I will get
there, I'm going to* *destroy* *that pathetic imitation of Voldemort. He*
*believes he* *control**s* *everything - but when I get there, when I am looking
at him -* Harry's eyes snapped open, a steely resolve in them as he looked back at the
Professor - *he will find out what I can do and* *he will be no more.*

TO BE CONTINUED…

Author's Note

Well folks, the writing is still going brilliantly - Chapter 15 is ready and waiting! I'll
upload it in a week (unless you'd like a little more time to digest this chapter? *Janie grins*
I'm kidding!) Looking forward to hearing from you all! Janie xoxo

-->



16. Four Weddings & A Funeral - Chapter Fifteen
-----------------------------------------------



Author's Note

How's this folks? I'm a day early! *beams* Well, the tension continues to mount…. (and
by the way, in case you think the second paragraph - it's in italics - sounds familiar,
that's because it's an excerpt from Chapter Four!)

Enjoy! Janie xoxoxo (*Waves and blows more kisses to the fabulous Kirsti who is totally
brilliant!*)

FOUR WEDDINGS & A FUNERAL

By Lady Jane

Chapter Fifteen

Ginny tried to move, to stretch enough to relieve the enormous stiffness that had spread
throughout her whole body, but to no avail. She was sitting in an old wooden chair, magically
bound, able only to move her eyes; she couldn't even speak. The chair she was in had been put
in the corner, a bed to her right, French doors along the wall to her left through which she
couldn't see - or be seen. She couldn't be totally sure, but she thought it was still the
same day that she'd been brought here - the curtains weren't drawn and it wasn't yet
dark and she was sure she hadn't nodded off at any time. As she looked once more around the
room that was now her prison, she felt again an eerie sense of déjà vu - she'd seen this room -
*been* in this room - before, but that couldn't be possible, could it? This puzzle had
helped distract her for the better part of the day as she tried in vain to remember when she could
ever have been here before. It didn't come back to her until after the wretched looking
house-elf, whose name she didn't know, came to bring her some food - no doubt leftovers from
his master's meal, cold chicken and vegetables. He stood on the bed beside her and fed her
patiently although he wouldn't look her in the eye. When she'd finished and he'd helped
her drain a glass of pumpkin juice, he levitated her firstly to an adjoining bathroom before taking
her back to the bed, covering her and drawing the curtains before shuffling out of the room. The
intense physical relief of being in a different position quickly passed and as darkness descended
she remembered - she'd been in this room during a dream - a dream she'd come to know had
been induced by magic…Lucius Malfoy's magic.

*She was in some grandiose bedchamber -* *there were three sets of tall French doors
which were opened and led out onto a huge, stone balcony; there was warm sunshine streaming in
through the doors, the light, sheer curtains adorning them fluttering gently in the breeze. The
chamber looked almost mediaeval - a huge four poster bed with elaborate hangings stood at one end.
There was a fireplace opposite, not needed this warm, balmy day. A writing desk and chair sat
facing outside at one of the French doors. Some armchairs were arranged around a low table in the
middle of the room. There were books here and there about the room and some beautiful paintings
adorned the walls - all landscapes. She became aware that she was dressed in beautiful and
expensive silk robes in a soft shade of aqua. Her long, red hair tumbled down her back. She headed
towards the closest doorway but before she could go through**,* *she heard a door open
behind her and turned.*

*He entered and closed the door behind him, smiling at her. Then he was walking towards her -
gliding smoothly, his own robes of deep, silvery forest green floating behind him as he strode
towards her. When he reached her, he slid one hand beneath the curtain of her hair, curling his
fingers around the nape of her neck.*

*`Ginevra, you look breathtaking, as always,' he said quietly.*

*The sound of his voice sent a delicious shiver throughout her body and she found herself
wanting him to kiss her, looking up at him, her lips parting slightly. He immediately bent his head
to do just that, his grip on her neck tightening slightly, his free arm sliding around her waist,
pulling her against him. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, relaxing against him, opening
her mouth to him.*

*Hadn't she once fought this? Hadn't she felt trapped? Hadn't she struggled to
escape? Those memories slid away, leaving her to kiss him harder, wanting him so much she ached
with it. She was aware of being carried, being reverently laid on the huge four poster bed. He was
sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning over her, smiling lovingly down at her as his fingers
played with her soft auburn curls.*

*`Shall I stay?' he asked.*

If she'd been able to move, Ginny would've sat bolt upright at that point. She'd
never known the room in that dream had been *real* - but it made sense. Lucius Malfoy had
crafted the three, charmed roses he'd given to his wife and any memories associated with them
would of course have been played out here, at Malfoy Manor - even when Draco had inadvertently
given her those same roses, that wouldn't change.

*Just bloody great,* she thought bitterly, *not only am I trapped - a prisoner - I'm
stuck in a room from my nightmares remembering Draco Malfoy making love to me! Argh!* In an
effort to put these memories aside, she concentrated once more on the events of that morning, the
events that had ended with her being here - something else she'd had plenty of time to think
about although she still wasn't sure what was behind it.

*She'd been shaken awake and looked up to see Priscilla, an anxious expression on her
pretty face.*

*`Ginny, your Mum's downstairs and seems to be upset - I thought it best if you went down
to her, rather than me.'*

*`All right, I'm coming,' she'd replied, sitting up**, wondering what on
earth could be wrong**.* *Perhaps* *her mum* *was just having a reaction to her
youngest son being married* *and leaving home for good, sort of empty ne**s**t
syndrome**?*

*Just as she was about to close the door behind her* *and join* *Priscilla*
*who was* *waiting at the top of the stairs, she'd hea**r**d Dean* *call
her name in a sleep**y* *voice.*

*`Go back to sleep, honey - I won't be long,' she'd whispered before closing the
door.*

*She and Priscilla had crept down the stairs, not wanting to wake anyone and as they reached
the bottom, Ginny heard the sound of crying - only it was coming from outside the back
door**,* *which stood partially open.*

*She and Priscilla exchanged puzzled looks. `She was just here a second ago,' whispered
Priscilla, `I don't know why she'd want to go outside - it'd be* *freezing out
there.'*

*As they both pulled their dressin**g**-**gowns tightly around them in
anticipation of the chill* *night* *air, they quickly made their way to the door,
Priscilla pulling it open and stepping outside.*

*`Here she is,' Ginny heard her say as she followed her out.*

*Ginny barely had time to register the shock of seeing not her mother, but some strange man in
a black hooded cloak, before he grabbed her and she felt the squeezing sensation of
Appar**i**tion.*

It hadn't taken too much thinking for Ginny to realise that Priscilla was either *not*
Priscilla or had been under a spell - more than likely Imperius Curse; she would've easily been
the most vulnerable as she had the least exposure to the Wizarding world of everyone in the house
and she was sleeping alone. But she'd had no idea who it was that had brought her here or even
where “here” was until Lucius Malfoy had walked into the room.

He stood there, a maliciously satisfied grin on his face, gloating.

Ginny knew she'd given away her sense of horror at the sight of him when the grin dropped
instantly from his face and his expression filled with hatred as he looked at her.

`Have I changed that much?' he asked, his harsh voice grating on her ears. When Ginny
didn't answer, he gave a short, jarring laugh. `That's right, you can't speak, can
you?'

Ginny tried to fill her gaze with loathing and disgust and indeed it wasn't hard given that
Lucius Malfoy was no longer the coldly handsome man he'd once been. His long blonde hair was
still evident - pulled back with his customary green ribbon - but his aristocratic features were
now distorted, as though there wasn't enough skin for his face and it was stretched impossibly
tight, pulling the facial bones with it; his lips were so thin as to be almost non-existent and his
eyes - Ginny shuddered - they were still human in shape, but their colour was a hideous red - the
colour of old, dried blood, both the irises and the whites.

`You'll have a visitor tomorrow. I imagine he's consorting with your traitorous family
and friends trying frantically to devise some way of freeing you. But it won't work - the Dark
Lord taught me well; the best way to control people is through their virtues and vices and you are
both for Draco.'

*Draco!* Ginny's eyes widened reflexively.

`Yes, Draco,' said Lucius in response to her expression, `my disowned, pathetic son who
loves you.' He sounded disgusted even as he said it. `So naturally, he'll do anything to
prevent harm coming to you.' Malfoy's hideous mouth was once more stretched into a cruel
smile. `And your filthy Mudblood friend will nobly agree to do anything to help you and of
course,' the smug satisfaction in his voice as he continued speaking was sickening as was his
expression as he spat out the next word, `*Potter* will likewise do anything for his Mudblood
girlfriend. He's even going to have to force himself to ignore the warning of his precious
Charm.' This thought seemed to be particularly pleasing to Malfoy.

Ginny's mind was working wildly. *He was getting Draco here? And Hermione? And Harry…
Harry. Harry would stop him.* Ginny felt troubled though - would Hermione simply come because
she, Ginny, was under threat? Ginny closed her eyes. *Of course she would.* As she opened her
eyes, she saw that Malfoy had turned to leave but he spoke to her once more over his shoulder
before closing the door.

`You see, don't you? That they will come - for you. I will have them all here, right where I
want them.'

Dean. At least he didn't want Dean. But still, Dean would come if he could, she knew. She
felt the pulsing knot of tension that had taken up permanent residence in her stomach twist,
causing her physical pain at the thought of Dean and what he was going through - *and her parents
- her brothers - what about Ron and Luna? Were they still on their honeymoon? - Harry and Hermione
- Neville and Priscilla -Neville* *would be at the Ministry working feverishly to find her,
too**.* The whirl of turbulent thoughts made her head throb and it was quite some time
before she eventually drifted into an uneasy sleep.

*

When Ginny woke the next morning it was to see the house-elf standing patiently on the chair
beside the bed with a tray of food. As soon as he saw she was awake, he jumped down, putting the
tray on the bed, running to draw the curtains before coming back and levitating her once more into
the chair where he fed her the cold toast and pumpkin juice he'd brought. He then took her to
the bathroom before returning her to the chair, immobilised once more and alone with her
thoughts.

She was brought no lunch and was feeling extremely hungry when it began to once more grow dark,
her eyes shifting eagerly to the door when she heard it open. But instead of the little house-elf,
it was Draco Malfoy standing there. She could see his father behind him but they didn't come
into the room.

Ginny sat there, her eyes locked with Draco's for a few seconds before his father pushed him
aside and pulled the door closed leaving Ginny to wonder what on earth could have been the purpose
of that - unless it was so that Draco could see she was there and still alive. As Ginny decided
that must've been the reason, the door opened again, only this time it was the little house-elf
with her meal of left overs. He followed the same routine and a little while later she lay on the
bed, listening as he left, closing the door behind him. She wondered dismally what the next day
would bring and felt heartsick at what Dean - her parents - *everyone* must be going through.
*Did they know where she was? And what was going to happen? Surely Malfoy wouldn't simply
keep her here, like this, indefinitely? Only until he had everyone there* *that* *he
wanted. He had her. And Draco. Would Hermione be next?* *Or* *Harry?* When she became
sick of travelling in endless circles inside her mind, she willed herself to fall into what proved
to be a fitful and restless sleep. It was broken up by many strange dreams and she woke the next
morning with a feeling of pending misfortune; she thought later that it was as though she'd had
a premonition the new day would see her live through another waking nightmare.

*

After the house-elf departed the next morning, following what had already become an established
routine, Ginny sat in the hard wooden chair, her eyes closed as tears trickled down her cheeks. She
wished something - *anything* - would happen. She felt as though she was going crazy with this
endless waiting…endless nothing…

`Feeling a little sad, are we?' came Lucius Malfoy's mocking voice, startling her; she
hadn't heard the door open.

As Malfoy moved into the room she caught sight of Draco behind him. Lucius gestured imperiously
to his son to come in and shut the door, which he did.

Ginny felt trepidation creep over her. Now that something was happening, she suddenly found
herself wishing it away.

Lucius walked to the writing desk and turned the chair around to face Ginny, sitting down
smoothly, one elbow resting on the desk, gesturing again to his son to take a seat. Draco did so,
in one of the armchairs placed around a low table. He hadn't looked at Ginny once since
entering the room and this, for some reason, increased her trepidation.

`So, Draco,' said Lucius conversationally, `this is the woman you love?'

When he received no answer, Lucius lazily drew his wand from his robes and pointed it at
Ginny.

Ginny felt the pain of the Cruciatus Curse hit her, her own scream reaching her ears at the same
time as she heard Draco yell, `*YES!*'

The pain stopped immediately and she opened her eyes to see Draco on his feet, looking at her
with pleading and remorse in his grey eyes.

`You will answer when asked,' Lucius advised his son in a clipped tone.

Draco dropped back into his seat, nodding wearily.

`Of course you will. Because you can't bear to see her in pain. It's so easy,
really.' Lucius sneered. `So, this is the woman you love,' he repeated; it was a statement,
not a question, but Draco quickly said “yes”, nonetheless.

Lucius sneered again. `And you gave her your mother's roses? The ones I created especially
for Narcissa?'

Draco managed to stop himself just in time from asking his father how the hell he knew that and
said instead, `Yes.'

`Must've been rather interesting for you, traitor,' said Lucius, turning to look at
Ginny. `Especially considering you have no romantic feelings for my son. She doesn't love you,
does she Draco?'

`No.'

`Of course she doesn't. How could she? You're not worth loving - you don't deserve
it. Do you?'

`No.'

Ginny, despite her hatred for Draco, felt intense loathing for Lucius' deliberation
humiliation of his only son.

`Have you kissed her?'

`Yes.'

`Did you enjoy it?'

`Yes.'

Ginny closed her eyes. She had a fleeting thought that the few seconds' worth of pain Lucius
had inflicted was somehow less horrible than this ghastly conversation.

`Have you made love to her?'

`No.'

`Perhaps in your dreams?'

`Yes.' Draco's voice had become more ragged with each answer. Ginny could do nothing
except keep her eyes closed so she didn't have to see - but she couldn't prevent herself
from hearing.

`Did she enjoy it?'

Ginny heard Draco draw a shuddering breath and fearfully opened her eyes, wondering if perhaps
Lucius would consider this a non-answer. She felt relief when Draco said through clenched teeth,
`Yes.'

With surprising speed, Lucius left his seat and pointed his wand once more at Ginny who steeled
herself for another onslaught of vicious pain even as she saw Draco jump up, taking one step before
realising what he was doing and stood still.

Then Ginny became aware of the most glorious feeling of freedom and floating and suddenly she
had no worries, just a gentle, pervading sense of happiness, only dimly aware now of where she was
and who was with her. For instance, who had shouted “no”? Not that she really cared because after
all, it didn't really matter…

Then she heard another voice. *Draco*. Who said that? *Draco loves you very
much**.* I know, she thought happily, no longer caring whose voice it was. *It's
wonderful that Draco loves you. He wants to show you how much he loves you. It makes you happy that
Draco loves you - it makes you happier than you've ever been.* Yes, it does. It is
wonderful! Ginny smiled. She'd never felt happier or more relaxed. *Stand up and walk to
Draco - you see him standing there, waiting for you?* Oh yes, there he was. She stood up and
stumbled a little, forgetting it had been a long time since she'd taken her own weight. But
that didn't matter either and it passed quickly. She moved slowly forward, a dreamy smile
playing about her lips. It was wonderful that Draco loved her and it did make her feel incredibly
happy. *Of course it does. In fact, you'd really like nothing better than to kiss him. That
would make him very happy.* Happy was good, happy was wonderful. *You'd really like to
kiss him now, wouldn't you?* Oh, yes! Then everyone would be happy and that would be
wonderful! *Very good! Just put your arms around his neck - that's it - he can't wait for
you to kiss him now -*

Draco stood and watched helplessly as Ginny, under the influence of the Imperius Curse, rose
unsteadily from her chair, stumbling a little on the first few steps, before walking slowly towards
him, a blankly smiling expression on her face, her eyes fixed on him. When she was in front of him
she brought her hands up to rest lightly on his chest as she smiled vacuously up at him, then with
slow, sinuous movements, slid her hands up and around his neck, her smile slipping away and leaving
her lips slightly parted; he could feel her warm breath on his mouth and closed his eyes. His
father had indeed found an exquisite form of torture for him. He could feel the loathing for his
father writhing inside him for making such a mockery of his feelings for Ginevra - he would enjoy
killing him when the time came.

Draco tried to keep his feelings at bay, tried desperately to think of this as his father's
“puppet show” - but the second that Ginny's lips touched his and he felt her soft, warm, open
mouth beneath his own, he was lost. The feel of her lean, lithe body under his hands - hands which
seemed no longer to be in his control - was his undoing. As his hands roamed feverishly along the
curves of her side and up her back before finding their way into the long, tangled golden-red locks
of her hair he felt as though a floodgate had been opened; for so long he'd dammed up every
little feeling and every ounce of his desire for this woman and now - now *she* was kissing
*him* - *really* kissing him! - and he didn't want it to stop and he didn't want
to go back to a world where this would never happen…but with a gut wrenching pull, he knew that it
wasn't real and would never be real and he felt despair rip at his heart even as he revelled in
the ecstasy her touch brought him.

As their lips parted and she looked up at him with her clouded eyes, smiling, he thought he
wanted to be sick - but whether because of his father's manipulation or because he wanted, in
some small corner of his mind, for this pretence to continue, he wasn't sure.

`Ginevra…' he whispered so that even his father couldn't hear.

She smiled that ghastly vacuous smile again as she listened to that voice in her head. `Draco?
Draco - please kiss me again.'

Draco knew that he would - that he was incapable of refusing her and felt a burning shame that
he didn't have the willpower to turn down this opportunity to hold her and touch her, have her
kiss him as if of her own free will…

Then Ginny felt as though she was plunged into a tank of ice cold water and with her lips just
about to touch Draco's once more, she felt a sense of release and heard Lucius Malfoy's
hatefully mocking laughter ringing out.

She immediately pulled her arms from around Draco's neck as though burnt and stepped back, a
look of repugnant horror on her face; she couldn't help but feel as though she'd betrayed
Dean, regardless of the fact that Lucius had forced her to do so with the power of the Imperius
Curse. She felt sick at what she'd been made to do, but before she could say a word, she found
herself back in “her” chair, magically bound physically and verbally once more while Draco followed
his father out of the room. Feeling utterly exhausted from her ordeal and more miserable than she
thought was possible and despite sitting upright in her uncomfortable chair, Ginny found herself
falling into a troubled sleep.

*

As Ginny drifted into her troubled sleep, Harry and Hermione Apparated back to their flat after
the meeting at the Burrow during which Professor Dumbledore had announced that Hermione had to be
at Malfoy Manor the following evening to prevent Lucius Malfoy from carrying out his threat to kill
Ginny and Draco.

Aside from the profound effect the idea of harm coming to Hermione had him, which was almost
equalled by the thought Ginny being hurt, he found he couldn't care less about Draco
Malfoy.

But above all this, while he could not stop Hermione from going, he had to deal with the
*id**ea* of letting Hermione go. And as Professor Dumbledore had warned him, he must
ignore the activation of the Cautus Contego Charm that would surely occur as soon as Hermione
arrived at Malfoy Manor. He told Harry he must stand there, knowing she was in danger, but ignore
his ability to Apparate to her side for that short period of time. It was proving to be one of the
hardest things he'd ever faced in his life. It went against every single instinct and desire.
Given the circumstances, he didn't know if he would be able to see her off, simply stand there
as she left, knowing he would receive a warning soon after that she was in danger which he had to
ignore and still continue to function properly. He was being forced into contemplating losing
Hermione: she who was the one and only human being on the planet who gave his life meaning,
continuity, security and love - Hermione and their relationship and their life together had become
his reason for *being* and if he lost her… it was like looking into a bottomless black
hole.

And so, after their meeting with Dumbledore, Harry felt a resolve fall into place - a resolve to
take and use these last hours they would have together before she left and turn them into a
wonderful memory, full of meaning and full of life; it would be impossible to forget them. And as
he came to this decision he waited until Professor Dumbledore had left, then asked Hermione to come
home with him - telling her he needed this time alone with her, adding that they could both
Apparate to the Ministry tomorrow morning.

Hermione didn't contemplate refusing Harry for even a second and so shortly afterwards they
Apparated home, ready to spend the rest of that day together, Harry refraining from voicing his
worst fear - that this may be their last.

TO BE CONTINUED….

Author's Note

So, how am I doing with suspense/drama/angst/etc?? Haven't written much of that till now. By
the way, I swear that Chapter Sixteen will be posted next week (Friday probably) - till then lovely
readers! Janie xoxoxo

-->



17. Four Weddings & A Funeral - Chapter Sixteen
-----------------------------------------------



Author's Note

As always, huge thanks and many hugs to Kirsti who has helped me to bring you this next,
nail-biting instalment of…

FOUR WEDDINGS & A FUNERAL

By Lady Jane

Chapter Sixteen

Hermione stood at the spot marked with the old post. Despite being dusk, it had been easy to
find and recognise from the description in the owl that had arrived that morning. She looked down
at the post, only about three and a half feet tall, leaning over slightly and grey from exposure to
the elements; it appeared to have been placed haphazardly beside a tangle of old trees - most of
which looked half-dead - on the side of a narrow, winding, country road. It had one distinguishing
feature however, not visible to Muggles, and that was a green stone, set in the top of it that gave
off a rather sickly glow. Hermione peered at it a little closer, sure she could see something in
the stone and gasped when she realised that the something was a tiny snake, obviously charmed to
appear alive as it writhed sinuously within the confines of the stone.

She straightened with a slight shudder and wondered how much longer she'd be standing here,
waiting for she knew not what. Then a green glow on the ground in front of her feet caught her eye
and she looked down to see the words “pick me up” glowing against the grass; Draco had reported via
Phineas that a Portkey was used to gain entry. So simple. Taking a deep breath she bent down, her
hand reaching out...

*

Ginny had spent the day drifting in and out of light, fitful sleep, aware she was using it as a
refuge from reality; she had found herself jerking awake at odd moments, her heart racing from
nightmare-induced fear, nightmares in which Lucius Malfoy played a large part. She'd also spent
a good amount of time going over and over the events of the last few days and crying, feeling
despair seeping into her soul. *How long? How long before - what? Anything! For someone to
come**!* *-* and then she heard the door open and glanced up, assuming it would the
little house-elf with her dinner as dusk was beginning to fall. But it wasn't. It was Draco. He
closed the door carefully, ensuring he made no sound before moving silently across the room, his
robes making only the slightest rustle as he walked. When he reached her, he knelt down in front of
her; after looking at her and taking in her red eyes, full of misery, and her tear stained face, he
leant forward to whisper in her ear, his hands resting on the sides of the chair. She couldn't
know that seeing her so was causing him great distress; he had to take a deep, steadying breath
before speaking.

`I knew you would be going a little crazy not knowing anything. I'm going to tell you what
little I know. I've just been told my father ordered Latro to leave him undisturbed until
dinner - he's in his study - so I knew I would have time to see you, talk to you - although I
don't have long - he's arranged for guards for all of us and they'll be here shortly.
I'm sorry I can't lift my father's spell and let you move or talk.' He was silent
for a few seconds before continuing as though struggling with his inability to help her. `The day
you were kidnapped I received an owl from my father that he had you and wanted me to come here or
he would -' Draco hesitated and decided against saying “kill you” despite those being the words
his father had actually written and said instead, `hurt you. I went to Dumbledore and told him,
after which we went to your home - everyone there knew of course you were missing but didn't
know where you were until we arrived. Granger has also received an owl and I think that the reason
my father wishes not to be disturbed is because she is due to arrive this evening. He would have
used the threat of harm to you to ensure she would come.' *As he did with me.*

Ginny's head was reeling as she tried to take in everything Draco was saying. Everyone knew
- Dumbledore was involved - Hermione was coming? What about Harry? And what about Dean? She wanted
to scream with frustration at not being able to ask questions. Draco moved back a little so that he
could look at her. As though he could read her mind, he said softly, `I know you must have a
thousand questions - I will just try to tell you everything I know.' Then, as he continued, she
forced her attention back to his words, closing her eyes to help her focus.

`My Grandfather Phineas - I think he's actually my Great-Great-Great Grandfather according
to my mother - is able to overhear some of what happens here through the landscapes in the
house.' Ginny's eyes flew open and darted to the beautiful landscape paintings hanging
along the far wall, wondering if Phineas had been in any of them. *Had Phineas been listening
that morning? Had he reported back what Lucius had done to her and to Draco?* Draco followed the
direction of her eyes and nodded. `Yes, he's checked on you, he's told me. He was the one
who told me my father was shutting himself away in his study.' Ginny knew Draco had thought of
the same thing when he said, `And no, he wasn't in here this morning - he was reporting to
Dumbledore.' Ginny wasn't sure if she was glad of that or not. `Dumbledore told me he
expected Granger to come, then finally Potter. I've told them how my father and the others get
in and out of here - it's not possible to Floo or Apparate because of the spells my father has
put on the place. Phineas says Dumbledore is working on a way to break in with a team of Aurors and
Hit Wizards once Potter's here. Because my father knows I won't leave while you're here
he doesn't bother to restrain me, so I'll be doing everything I can to find out whatever I
can and pass it on through my grandfather.'

He stopped and Ginny opened her eyes only to find Draco's grey eyes studying her intently.
She looked at him, wondering if there was anything else he could tell her.

`Ginevra, I am so sorry for what my father has done to you - and what he did this morning,'
Draco's gaze dropped and she could sense his discomfiture and embarrassment. He lifted his eyes
to hers once more, a crooked, self-deprecating smile in place as he said, `but I'd be lying if
I didn't admit that it gave me a tantalising glimpse of what it would be like if you felt for
me even a tenth of what I feel for you.' He shook his head slightly then as though to remove
such thoughts. His voice, when he spoke again, was cold and implacable. `My mother is dying because
of a curse my father placed on her - she is slowly going mad and she's dying. I swore I'd
kill him for that and now -' he looked into her eyes once more and she was amazed anew at the
love and passion she saw there, `- he's done this to *you**.* He has reinforced
tenfold my vow to kill him and die in the attempt if necessary.'

He stood up abruptly. `I have to go, but remember - everything is being done to free you and I
don't doubt that between them, Potter and Dumbledore will succeed.' He turned and left, his
heart pounding. He hated himself for the desire that had swept over him as he knelt talking to her
- the desperate desire to kiss her knowing she would be powerless to stop him - but he didn't
want to give her reason to hate him anymore than she did already by giving in to his desire.

*

Hermione stood immobilised, unable to speak, in the middle of a room she guessed was a study,
going on the myriad bookshelves, desk and couches. She was able to move her head, but not any other
part of herself as Lucius Malfoy checked her jeans pockets, her jumper and coat, looking for
something. Then he straightened and looked down at her, a slight smile on his lips that didn't
reach his eyes. His hideous red eyes. Hermione wondered what had happened to him.

`So, you didn't bring your wand? Surprising…'

*Idiot!* thought Hermione. *Why would I bring my wand just to see you break it?* She
glared at him, trying to convey to him the loathing she felt.

He slapped her suddenly then, across the face. `Don't look at me like that you insolent,
filthy Mudblood.'

Hermione felt dizzy from the impact but decided that it wasn't wise to provoke him any
further, so she kept her eyes downcast, her cheek stinging; she fought back the tears that were
forming, determined not to show any weakness.

Malfoy took a seat in the Chesterfield before the fire, levitating Hermione to stand at the end
of the lounge so he could see her; she was grateful for the warmth provided by the fire, staring
into the flames so that she didn't have to look at Malfoy.

`So, Potter has obviously been able to ignore the activation of that flawed charm of his. I
doubt even the great Harry Potter would have succeeded anyway, with the Anti-Apparition Spells I
have in place. I imagine he was crying when you left, the fool.' Malfoy's voice was full of
contempt as he spoke and Hermione looked up at him, wondering whether he wanted her to answer or
not.

`Well?' His tone was full of menace. She shook her head, looking down once more, afraid her
hatred for him would be only too clear in her gaze.

`Do you now how I was able to get that traitorous Weasley here?'

Hermione shook her head again, curious despite herself.

`That silly little witch - Laycock - the one that works with you, she's as easy to read as a
book.' *Priscilla!* Hermione felt for her friend, knowing she would be distraught when she
found out. As it was, Hermione assumed Malfoy meant that “as easy to read as a book' could only
mean he'd used Legilimency on Priscilla, but when? Could he do it from afar? But he was talking
again and Hermione wanted to hear what he was telling her. `And so it was simple to see she'd
be an easy target for the Imperius Curse. She did a good job of getting the Weasley witch outside
where I was able to Disapparate with her back here. And I'll wager that Dumbledore wouldn't
dream of using Occlumency on any of you to find out anything in case it “harmed” you - the old
fool. So, now I have both bits of bait - you and Weasley. And I have my traitorous coward of a son.
All I need now is Potter. And he'd be terrified of what I might do to you, wouldn't
he?' Malfoy's voice was full of self-satisfaction, knowing the answer without hearing it.
`Of course he would be. Good. I hope he agonises over it every second of every hour.' Hermione
closed her eyes, desperately willing herself not to cry. Malfoy's mocking words were only too
true and it tore at her to know that Harry would be at the Ministry, or the Burrow, doing precisely
that; when she left to make her way here, he'd simply held her tightly to him, unable to
speak.

Malfoy lazily reached out his hand and a book that was lying on the desk across the room flew to
him. He opened it to a previously marked page and sat there, reading as though he was alone,
completely ignoring Hermione. She was sure it was a deliberate move to unnerve her.

As Malfoy read and sipped from a glass of what looked to be red wine, Hermione surreptitiously
looked around the room, trying to see if there were any paintings on the walls; she moved very
slowly so as not to attract Malfoy's attention and felt a jolt of hope when she saw a large
landscape of the English countryside on the wall over the desk. She hoped Phineas knew of her
arrival and had reported back to Dumbledore and Harry. She wished she could've confirmed that
she'd also been brought into the house with a Portkey. Not that Malfoy would conveniently
provide a force of Aurors and Hit Wizards with a Portkey into his home, more's the pity, she
thought wryly.

*

After Latro (which Ginny now knew to be the name of Malfoy's wretched little house-elf) had
left her for the night, lying on the four poster bed once more, Ginny heard the door to her room
open again and felt fear clench at her stomach. *Who was it? What were they going to do?*

She heard a single set of footsteps then gasped as Hermione came into view, obviously levitated
by Lucius Malfoy who was walking behind her with his wand pointed at her.

They stared into each other's eyes for a few seconds, relief in both gazes at the sight of
the other - unharmed and alive. Then Malfoy spoke, malicious amusement in his tone. `See ladies?
You're both here, unhurt. And tomorrow Potter will be told he can come. And then the fun really
begins.' Ginny cringed inside, wondering what Malfoy was planning but Hermione, her spirit
still strong, looked at Ginny, trying to pass some of her strength to her friend through their
gazes. Tears sprang into Ginny's eyes and Hermione's eyes softened with the pain she felt
for her friend while her heart hardened - Malfoy was going to pay for all this.

*

Harry wasn't sure how it was he was managing to function, although in truth he was only
going through the motions of living in the manner of an automaton. When an owl arrived at the
Burrow the following morning, he felt released as relief and a renewed sense of purpose overcame
him. His instructions were almost identical to Hermione's, telling him to be at the old post
near Malfoy Manor at sunset that evening. When Molly had wondered why Malfoy was spacing out the
arrivals of his victims, Dumbledore told her the same thing had occurred to himself and Harry: they
felt sure he was doing it deliberately to prolong everyone's suffering and misery. And prolong
his own enjoyment.

After reading Malfoy's instructions, Harry left immediately for Neville's office,
bearing the small roll of parchment, fuelled by impatience; sunset suddenly seemed a long way
off.

Towards the end of what had felt like the longest day he'd ever lived through, Harry came to
stand on the same spot that Hermione had occupied the previous evening. Harry too, glanced with
repugnance at the small, writhing snake within the glowing stone before taking several deep,
steadying breaths as he endeavoured to prepare himself for whatever was to come.

*

`Potter.'

Harry looked around, feeling the Portkey (a green glass paperweight with the head of a striking
snake inside it) leave his hand and turned to watch as it flew to a large, leather-topped desk
behind him, his eyes then moving up to see Lucius Malfoy standing behind the desk; the Portkey had
brought him into what was obviously Malfoy's study. Harry noticed that although Malfoy's
arms appeared to be hanging, relaxed, by his sides, he had his wand in his hand. Then disgust swept
through him as he registered Malfoy's appearance. *Merlin's beard!* *He must've
been employing some of Voldemort's methods to prolong his life by the look of him.* *And
those red eyes were eerily reminiscent of Voldemort.*

`Welcome to Malfoy Manor.'

`Malfoy.' Harry's tone was deadly flat and did not pretend to be civil.

`You're looking well, Potter, considering you must be under considerable strain.'

`Where is she?' Harry couldn't prevent a mixture of hate, tension and fear from carrying
in his voice.

Malfoy's thin lips stretched hideously in a smug smile. `You shall see her soon
enough.'

`Both of them.'

`Only both of them? Not the three of them? Surely you're concerned about Draco, too,
Potter,' Malfoy's voice rippled with sarcasm.

`I don't give a damn about your son,' Harry replied, his voice cold as ice.

`Neither do I. Nor do I give a damn about your Mudblood or that blood traitor.' Malfoy's
voice was even colder than Harry's.

`So what is it you do give a damn about?' Harry felt the tension creeping throughout his
body. His mind screamed at him to knock Malfoy down and run and find Hermione - and Ginny - but he
had to resist the impulse, not knowing what precautions Malfoy may have taken to cover just such a
situation.

`Only myself. And what I want. Nothing and no one else matters.'

Harry stared at Malfoy, saying nothing.

He caught the slight movement of Malfoy's wand arm and his right hand flew up, palm out, to
take the curse as it flew at him. As he closed his fist, destroying the curse, Harry caught a tiny
flicker of surprise in Malfoy's eyes though it was quickly suppressed; he'd no doubt been
testing for Harry's response and if he was at all impressed, he didn't allow it to show.
Harry wondered if Lucius would attempt to take his wand from him. *Not that it would do him much
good - it was concealed in such a way that even Malfoy wouldn't be able to find it.*

Speaking as though nothing had happened, Malfoy said, `The first thing I want is for my world to
be free of you and my son. If I get what I want, I may even let those two filthy witches
go.'

Harry didn't believe him for a second. However, he said coolly, `It's not very often we
get what we want, is it?'

`On the contrary, Potter, I'm always used to getting what I want - in the end.' Malfoy
then turned and walked towards the door. `Follow me,' he said curtly. The fact that Malfoy
didn't exhibit any concern at Harry being behind him, spoke volumes to Harry - about
Malfoy's confidence in his personal protection as well as the measures he'd taken to
prevent Harry freeing Hermione and Ginny.

Harry followed Malfoy from the room, his heart leaping at the thought that he was being taken to
see Hermione. Despite Phineas' assurances, he wanted to see for himself that she was
unharmed.

But when he did see her, he felt both terrible fear and enormous anger assail him, sickened by
her predicament and his inability to do anything at that moment to alleviate it.

Malfoy had taken him to an upstairs bedroom, passing a number of doors along the right of the
landing upon which they were walking; he'd wondered briefly which of them might be hiding Ginny
and Draco Malfoy from view. Malfoy had opened the last door on the right and with a sweeping
gesture, directed Harry into the dim room, lit only by a candelabra set on a low table sitting
across the end of a single four poster bed and the last feeble rays of the setting sun. Not that he
could know, but this room was almost identical to that which Ginny occupied, just a little smaller.
Hermione was laying on the bed, obviously immobilised, with a black-robed Death Eater standing by
the bed, holding his wand to her heart, a long, dangerous looking knife in his other hand which was
hanging by his side with deceptive nonchalance; he could feel the Death Eater's eyes on him -
watching for the slightest defensive movement on his part. Harry didn't doubt for a second that
should he attempt anything, Hermione would die instantly but he couldn't prevent his hands
curling into painfully tight fists as fury burnt through him...

He'd no sooner had time to take it all in - his heart racing as his gaze locked with
Hermione's, her eyes widening at the sight of him - than Malfoy stepped in front of him and
pushed him out of the room, closing the door firmly behind them.

`You'll have a room to yourself tonight, Potter, and you won't leave it or make any
attempt whatsoever to see or contact your pathetic Mudblood,' Malfoy told him as he led him
back downstairs and into another bedroom; Harry's still tightly clenched fists jerked
convulsively at Malfoy's words but he managed to keep them by his side. The room Malfoy ushered
him into was much smaller than the one Hermione occupied upstairs and was, unknown to Harry, part
of the servants' quarters. As he turned to look at Malfoy, who was standing in the doorway with
his fingers curled around the door handle ready to leave, Harry felt a sudden rush - a fierce
desire to simply strangle Lucius Malfoy with his bare hands then and there and to hell with the
consequences. His stomach churned with the effort necessary to prevent himself from doing just that
- he couldn't do that, at least not yet…

`Don't even attempt to leave this room, Potter,' Malfoy repeated in a condescending
tone. `Even you cannot hope to tackle three different Death Eaters in three different rooms at the
same time and while you may - although unlikely *-* be able to save the first one, two others
will die; as if by your hand. So don't even consider it. Just wait until tomorrow.'
*Suffer until tomorrow!* thought Lucius with malicious triumph, knowing Harry would indeed be
suffering throughout the long night, drawing immense satisfaction from this fact; he thrived on
inflicting mental anguish.

*

After Harry and Malfoy left, Hermione felt as though she wanted to scream in frustration and
hatred at Malfoy - while at the same time she wanted to run to Harry - she wanted Harry to
obliterate Malfoy and take her away from here - but at the same time her “sensible” side knew the
best thing she could do was to get as much sleep as possible. She glanced up at the Death Eater
standing guard by her bed and felt a chill run along her spine on seeing his flat, cold grey eyes
staring at her from beneath his hood. Forcing herself to ignore him, she shut her eyes and dredged
up memories - happy memories - which eventually wove themselves into fitful dreams until she
finally fell asleep.

Ginny took longer to fall asleep. Having already experienced the emotional torture Malfoy was
capable of, she was fearful of what the next day would bring, especially now that he had all of
them under one roof. And the almost black, dead stare of the Death Eater standing beside her bed
did nothing to alleviate her fears.

Draco was also under guard, although not restrained in any way. This was due to his father's
confidence that while he probably did not care about Hermione, he would not take any risks that
might jeopardise Ginny's safety - and his father was right. A hooded Death Eater stood in front
of the door to his room and Draco, who was laying on the large, four poster bed, spoke to the Death
Eater, his voice conveying enormous boredom with the whole situation and heavy with barely
concealed contempt.

`I don't suppose you know what's going on, do you? No, you're only a henchman.
Still, I'm sure that was Potter my father was talking to on the landing - no doubt my father
took him in to see his Mudblood, Granger.'

The Death Eater did not even appear to have heard him, but Draco continued nonetheless. `My
father obviously didn't put Potter here in one of the upstairs bedrooms, either. Perhaps in one
of the old servants' rooms downstairs - my father would think that was fitting for Potter. And
I'll wager there's one of *you* in both of the witches' bedrooms.' Draco
smirked. `Not in Potter's though. Who would want to stand guard over the great Harry Potter? No
one here would have the guts.' Still the Death Eater acted as though he was deaf.

Deciding he'd said enough to enable Phineas Nigellus to make a report to Dumbledore, Draco
yawned and dismissively turned his back to the robed guard, appearing to sleep; his mind, however,
didn't let him sleep for some time as it insisted on dwelling on Ginevra and his constant
concern for her.

Harry lay on a small, lumpy bed, sleep eluding him for a long time; he was unable to put the
image of Hermione lying on that bed with the Death Eater leaning over her out of his mind. The
screaming desire within him would not let up - it hadn't stopped since he'd first arrived
in Malfoy's study; he just wanted to get up and run from this room - find Hermione - get her
away from here…make her safe, keep her safe…

Harry realised he was close to being overwhelmed by panic and forced himself to clamp down on it
immediately. He needed to stay clear-headed to ensure he could think and act quickly when it was
time. *For Hermione**…for Hermione…*and it was with the rhythm of his heart beating in
time with the sound of her name that he eventually forced himself to sleep.

*

Whilst Malfoy Manor was dark and quiet, back at the Burrow there were flickering candles on the
kitchen table as vigil was kept by the heartsore and exhausted Molly and Arthur Weasley and their
son-in-law, Dean; Priscilla was coming to visit them every few hours, making fresh tea,
endeavouring to get them to eat just a little but usually without success. Neville and Dumbledore,
too, were frequent visitors, seeming to harbour a need to *be there* rather than just Floo; it
was as though they too drew some strength from numbers. Ron and Luna had joined the vigil, Molly
having finally given in - needing as many of her family around her as possible and asked Ron to
forgive her for not telling him sooner. Ron had told his mum there was nothing to forgive - he told
her how much he and Luna appreciated the wonderful memories from those few precious, untouched
days, memories they would always have, despite everything else. Charlie, too, had visited that day
and he, as well as Bill, was Flooing regularly to check on developments and to offer words of
encouragement.

Shortly after Priscilla left to be with Neville, who was still in his office, Professor
Dumbledore arrived to give them the latest report from Phineas.

`Phineas heard Lucius Malfoy tell his house-elf not to disturb him until dinner and shut himself
in his study so he joined him, via the landscape of course. Harry arrived - also by Portkey, which
is the only method of entry we've seen, although I'm sure Malfoy himself has other means.
Malfoy tried to hit Harry with the Cruciatus Curse, which Harry fended off. Then -'

`Fended off?' interrupted Ron. `What do you mean? That he just - *stopped* it?' He
sounded incredulous; he hadn't known Harry could do that.

The Professor gave Ron a weary smile. `Yes, I've shown him how to do that - although if he
didn't possess the innate ability necessary, he couldn't have learnt it. It's not
something he advertises - you know Harry.'

Ron rolled his eyes. `Yep, I know Harry. Trust him to be able to do something stupendous like
that and not say anything.' Ron suddenly sat bolt upright in his seat as though electrified.
His eyes widened as he stared at Dumbledore, unaware that as he spoke, every other pair of eyes at
the table also swung to stare at Dumbledore, waiting for his answer. Ron had asked, awe in his
voice, `Does that mean he can stop the killing curse too?'

`We don't know, Ron. We haven't tested that, for obvious reasons, although it would be
highly unlikely.'

`Albus, please tell us more about the situation at Malfoy Manor,' Arthur Weasley's voice
sounded strained, as indeed he was; the effect of the constant worry and heartache over his
daughter's safety - and now Hermione's and Harry's - was only too obvious.

The old wizard nodded as he continued. `Malfoy took Harry to see Hermione before putting him in
a room downstairs. Phineas heard Draco - ostensibly talking to his guard - plainly attempting to
relay details of the current situation to him. We don't expect any more to occur tonight -
whatever Malfoy has planned will no doubt take place tomorrow.'

What he didn't tell them was that Narcissa Malfoy had been moved to Hogwart's hospital
wing late that afternoon, unconscious and gravely ill. He'd told Phineas Nigellus, asking him
to use his discretion in telling Draco the news; he didn't voice his fear that Narcissa would
die before Draco had a chance to say goodbye. Dumbledore doubted Phineas would get the chance to
speak to Draco or any of the captives now that guards had been placed on them all, save Harry.
Harry. Dumbledore wished he could lighten everyone's hearts a little by giving them a hint of
how he and Harry were planning to defeat Malfoy; but it was too much of a risk as only he and Harry
were capable of fending off any attempts to either control them or enter their minds. He suppressed
the smallest of smiles as he contemplated the surprises in store for an unsuspecting Lucius
Malfoy…

TO BE CONTINUED…

Author's Note

Chapter Seventeen is being feverishly revised so that it'll be ready for next week and
I've just about finished Chapter Eighteen so I'm still maintaining my “chapter-a-week”
schedule at this point! *happy grin*

Speaking of Chapter Seventeen… here's a quote from it to whet your appetites:

“Lucius' lip curled sneeringly. `I'm not going to physically hurt your beloved traitor,
Draco; I find physical torture rather crude, base and unlovely. I much prefer the nuance of
disturbed emotions - emotions that can be plucked like the strings of a harp so that a melody is
released - a melody of joy, terror, fear, sadness, despair, despondency - an unending melody, as
endless as the myriad emotions of which each individual is capable.'”

Janie xoxoxo

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18. Four Weddings & A Funeral - Chapter Seventeen
-------------------------------------------------



Author's Note

My usual heartfelt thanks to Kirsti (*hugs*!).

And so, read on…

FOUR WEDDINGS & A FUNERAL

By Lady Jane

Chapter Seventeen

When Latro opened the curtains the next morning, Ginny had already been lying awake for some
time, keeping her eyes closed to avoid having to look at the Death Eater guarding her. As the
little house-elf climbed onto the chair beside her bed, she opened her eyes so that he would know
she was awake. Ginny thought he seemed even more nervous than usual today and put it down to the
presence of the Death Eater. As he moved her to the chair, she could just see enough through the
French doors to know that it was a dreary, overcast day. *How fitting,* she thought miserably,
*that the sky mirrors my state of mind.*

When Latro guided her back to the chair after taking her to bathroom, Ginny felt a jolt of
relief to see that the Death Eater had gone from her room. As she sat and waited, she wondered
whether Malfoy had succeeded in getting Harry to come to the Manor the day before, although knowing
Hermione was here she had no doubts really that Harry would come. Her mind returned inexorably to
Dean and the torture of not being able to talk to him and tell him she was alive and as yet, unhurt
although she couldn't exactly call her treatment at Malfoy's hands exemplary. Even the fact
that Draco was here while Dean wasn't, would be like a knife in Dean's heart, she knew. The
one thing she did avoid thinking about was what Lucius had in store for them. She was sure, after
the wretched fiasco he'd forced on her and Draco together with comments he'd made, that he
relished the emotional torture of his victims rather than the physical. Ginny closed her eyes as
tears slowly trickled down her checks unchecked. She could only hold on to the belief that Harry
and Dumbledore would be able to get them all out of this predicament.

*

Hermione woke just as a wretched looking house-elf was drawing the curtains in her room to
reveal miserable looking grey clouds covering the sky. A glance to her right and she could see the
Death Eater was still standing guard but at least he wasn't staring at her any longer. The
house-elf moved her to an old, wooden chair placed beside the bed and began to feed her some cold
toast followed by a glass of pumpkin juice. She tried to catch his eye - she felt sympathy for this
poor creature and murderous indignation at his obvious neglect, harking back to the days of
S.P.E.W. - but the sad little elf, whilst treating her with the utmost gentleness, wouldn't
meet her gaze. When she'd finished eating, Hermione was grateful to be partially released from
her magic binding (though she felt as though she was “hobbled” and knew she would be unable to do
more than shuffle) to use the bathroom and was pleased to see the Death Eater was gone when the
house-elf returned her to the chair, muttering the spell that immobilised her once more. After the
little house-elf left, the empty breakfast tray bobbing along behind him, her thoughts turned to
Harry. Despite knowing they were all in danger, she felt better knowing he was here, in the same
house. She closed her eyes, picturing again the sight of Harry in the doorway the previous day -
while that hideous Death Eater held his wand to her heart. She'd noticed what he was wearing
and it had warmed her heart because she knew he'd done it deliberately - for her. And he was
here. He was near.

`*Miss Granger.'*

Hermione's eyes flew around the room looking for the source of the sibilant whisper that had
sounded like her name.

*`Miss Granger, it is I, Phineas Nigellus.'*

Hermione's eyes moved to the row of three landscapes hanging on the wall the other side of
the bed. She though she could make out a shadow in the centre painting.

`Yes, what is it?' she asked, her heart racing.

`*I am endeavouring to speak to each of you - Miss Weasley, young Mr Malfoy, yourself and Mr
Potter - to let you know that you are currently all well. I have seen each of you this morning -
you are now all awake and have had something to eat. The guards have left all your rooms and are
currently downstairs with Mr Malfoy which is why I am able to speak to you. I must move quickly
though to ensure I speak to each of you**; I do not know how long I have**. Professor
Dumbledore and Mr Longbottom have taken my portrait to the Weasley's home and they are all
there, awaiting my report.* *Good day, Miss Granger.'*

`Phineas?' but Hermione knew he was gone - the shadow was no longer evident in the picture.
At least she knew everyone was all right for now. How long, she wondered, before that changed…

*

Harry knew it would be hopeless but he nevertheless tried to Apparate to Hermione's room on
the floor above; thanks to Phineas, he knew she was alone there now. Nothing happened, as he'd
expected - the Anti-Apparition Spell Malfoy used must be as strong as the one in place at Hogwarts.
Harry began pacing the floor of his rather cramped room, impatient for action. He needed everyone
together, in the same room, and then he would be able to act.

*

Draco Malfoy was the last one to receive Phineas' message, so decided by Phineas as he had
extra information for his grandson-thrice-removed. After advising Draco that the other captives
were fed and well, he added, `*The Headmaster has asked me to tell you, at my discretion, about
your mother's current condition.'* Draco had held his breath as he waited for Phineas to
speak again. *`She has been taken gravely i**ll and is currently in the hospital wing at
Hogwarts. She is receiving every care possible.'*

Draco had dropped on to the bed, his head clutched in his hands. Although he had known his
mother was dying for some time now, he felt torn by the knowledge that he may not see her again.
*Please let her live until I can see her again - don't let her die before I get there!* He
looked up, intending to ask Phineas to report to him as often as possible about his mother's
condition - but Phineas was gone.

*

Lucius Malfoy surveyed the large drawing room with satisfaction. `Well done,' he told his
cowering house-elf, `now go.' Latro scuttled eagerly from the room, using magic to close the
heavy, carved wooden doors behind him, leaving Malfoy and one hooded Death Eater alone.

The large, rectangular room overlooked the side garden of the manor - a row of tall, rounded
windows above mullioned French doors lead out onto a tiled terrace running the full length of
high-ceilinged room.

There were windows at each end but deep-green velvet drapes had been drawn across them all; the
heavy, leaden sky outside lent a dull greyness to the almost empty room. Two high-backed,
comfortable armchairs, upholstered in deep red velvet, had been placed with their backs to the
front windows, a round, marble-topped Victorian tea table between them; a silver tray, which held
two crystal decanters and a cluster of crystal goblets, sat on the table. There was no other
furniture in the room - no form of adornment at all; no paintings or mirrors hung on the walls
which held only regularly spaced ornate sconces. Malfoy waved his hand and the three candles in
each sconce lit themselves, throwing flickering shadows across the polished wooden floor. He then
seated himself in one of the armchairs, placing his wand on the table.

`Nott, bring Draco and the Weasley witch down. Bring Carrows back with you, too.'

As Nott left to do his bidding, Malfoy settled himself comfortably, turgid with malicious
anticipation for what he was about to do. *How easily these fools allow themselves to be
manipulated,* he thought with contempt, a smile reminiscent of his former master's curling
the corners of his mouth. He was going to enjoy this.

Draco and Ginny preceded the two Death Eaters into the room, the carved wooden doors closing
magically behind them, Lucius watching with undisguised pleasure as Ginny walked in with faltering
steps, Draco hovering by her side anxiously. Lucius snapped his fingers and when Draco glanced up
at him, he pointed peremptorily at the vacant armchair beside him.

`Sit.' Lucius picked up his wand as he issued this command.

Mindful of the callous infliction of pain he knew his father to be capable of, Draco quickly
moved to obey.

Ginny stopped as Draco moved off, fiercely concentrating on staying upright, Nott and Callows
coming to a halt, one each side of her.

`Nott, take her to the other end - Carrows, you come here.'

As Nott grabbed Ginny's arm just above the elbow and began pulling her along, Draco's
hands curled into fists, his knuckles white. Lucius looked across at him and could see the muscle
along his son's jaw jerking as he clenched his teeth - the sight made him smile again. *I am
going to enjoy this,* he thought again, his red gaze full of cruel expectation. Draco could feel
his father's gaze on him but chose to ignore it, keeping his eyes on Ginny who was now standing
about twenty feet away, swaying on her feet despite Nott maintaining his grasp on her arm.

*What the hell is the foul bastard going to do?* he wondered, feeling tension take control
of his whole body as he kept his gaze upon Ginny, wanting more than anything to run to her and
enfold her in his arms - to protect her from the monster that his father had become and anything he
might do.

When his father spoke as though he'd said this aloud, Draco's head whipped around,
flinching as his grey eyes met his father's hideous red gaze.

Lucius' lip curled sneeringly. `I'm not going to physically hurt your beloved traitor,
Draco; I find physical torture rather crude, base and unlovely. I much prefer the nuance of
disturbed emotions - emotions that can be plucked like the strings of a harp so that a melody is
released - a melody of joy, terror, fear, sadness, despair, despondency - an unending melody, as
endless as the myriad emotions of which each individual is capable.'

Draco felt nausea swirling greasily in his stomach. His father sounded *pleased* *and -
was it possible? -* *happy**;* he was deriving pleasure just from the *thought*
of inflicting some form of *emotional* torture. Draco was rocked by an unpreventable shudder
passing through him - *who was being tortured here*, he wondered, *Ginevra?* *Me?*
*Or* *the* *both* *of us**…*

Lucius leaned over and picking up one of the decanters and a goblet, poured what looked like
thick, dark mud into the goblet. Without looking at Carrows, he held out his hand and Carrows
placed a small, glass phial in his master's palm. `Did you have any trouble getting this?'
asked Lucius as he extracted a single, black hair from the phial, holding it up to study it.

`None, Lord Malfoy. Potter isn't stupid - I didn't even need to remind him that Miss
Granger would suffer if he didn't comply.'

Ginny, on hearing Harry and Hermione's names, had looked up just in time to see Lucius drop
the black hair into the goblet, watching as it bubbled sluggishly, the colour slowly changing to
the palest mint green.

*Polyjuice Potion! Dear Merlin, what was he planning?* Ginny fought against the weakness in
her legs, the nausea in her stomach and the pain in her heart. Her gaze moved from the goblet in
Lucius' hand to Draco, only to find his eyes fixed on her and even from this distance she could
see the fear in them. She gave him a crooked smile as if to say, *we're better**, you
and I* *- somehow we'll win and he'll lose!* Then she realised that for the first
time, in her mind, she'd included Draco Malfoy on *her* side - and shivered, feeling that
this was somehow intrinsically wrong. *Dean!* She felt tears well in her eyes as her
husband's name reverberated in her head. *I will concentrate on* **you,** *on our
love…Draco Malfoy doesn't matter…**his father even less…* Draco's eyes were still
fixed on her as though trying to convey sympathy and support for her and she found she couldn't
look away - it helped to know that he was on her side…he was the only one there who was…

Before she could pursue this avenue of thought any further, Lucius handed the goblet to Carrows
who was standing beside his master; he took it and with a smirk at his master, threw down the
contents in one gulp.

Ginny felt her knees sag and if Nott hadn't grabbed at her she would've fallen to the
floor. Carrows' features began to soften and merge into a formless nothing before coalescing
once more - only now Ginny was gazing upon Harry's black, messy mop of hair - his green eyes
gazing at her through his glasses with that infamous scar clearly visible beneath his fringe. This
pseudo-Harry was wearing black jeans and a finely knitted green jumper - Hermione's favourite
“get up” as Harry often - and smilingly - told them. *That's what he's worn to come
here!* thought Ginny; Harry had chosen those clothes as a form of defiance and even if Malfoy
wasn't aware of it, she knew and Hermione would know. Ginny felt a fierce stab of victory as
though Malfoy had been bested at something.

But as the transformation finished and Harry stood grinning at her, Ginny couldn't prevent
the soft moan that escaped her. `No!' she whispered, closing her eyes, her head dropping; she
had no idea what Lucius had in mind but she was becoming more afraid by the second.

Draco had sucked air in through clenched teeth as he watched the transformation - not wanting to
contemplate what his father might be planning, the nausea in his stomach increasing.

Lucius stood, his wand pointed at Ginny - he stared at her and she seemed unable to tear her
eyes away from his; a minute later he was laughing as Ginny fell to her knees. Turning to Draco,
whose eyes hadn't left Ginny's forlorn figure, Lucius said, `So, Potter and this traitor
had a little fling back in their sixth year? Did you know that Draco?' *This was going to
make it so much easier*, he thought triumphantly as he sat once more.

`Yes,' said Draco, the word wrenched from him. *Who at Hogwarts couldn't be aware of
Potter and his best mate's sister and their very public move into a romantic relationship?*
Draco thought bitterly. His gaze moved to his father's inhuman countenance, puzzlement in his
eyes. *How did he know about it? It had only lasted a matter of weeks**.* *He'd
certainly never men**tioned it* *to his parents* *at the time or since**. And
besides, so what? It was years ago and no longer mattered - it had only mattered in the first place
because it had been* *T**he Boy Who Lived**,* *T**he Chosen One…*

`How would you feel if they revisited that time - that relationship? I have a very clear picture
from the traitor's memories of what they did - would you like to see?' *Legilimency!*
The word rang in Draco's mind - that's how his father had extracted the information from
Ginevra! Then, as Lucius waved his wand towards Ginny, his other hand gesturing to
Carrows-now-Harry, Draco recognised once again the symptoms of the Imperius Curse his father had
just placed on Ginevra. Then as Potter - Carrows - walked towards Ginny's kneeling figure, Nott
stepped away from her, moving back to lean against the wall as he too smirked, anticipation plainly
evident on his face.

Ginny slowly rose to her feet - a smile on her face as her eyes sought Draco - her smile
becoming wider when she saw him. He couldn't know that the voice in Ginny's head was
telling her once again how much Draco loved her, persuading her to go to him, kiss him - but he was
able to recognise this was almost a replay of the fiasco his father had forced them to perform -
was it really three days ago? - and that's when Draco thought he might actually be sick. This
form of torture his father had devised was truly ugly and he could do nothing to prevent it. That
in itself was a form of torture and he saw then that this would be a multi-layered torture. Ginny
was suffering because even while under the Imperius Curse she would later have feelings of betrayal
towards her husband while he, Draco, suffered knowing that the mind of the woman he loved was being
violated and he was powerless to help her. If he had his wand, he knew he'd be capable of
killing him at that moment.

Draco sprang to his feet, unable to help himself, pain ripping through him.

`Stop!' he cried, anguish in his voice. `Do what you like with me, but leave her out of
it!'

Lucius laughed out loud, the sound echoed by both Nott and Carrows. *This was going
perfectl**y!*

Draco fell back into the armchair, defeated; he knew he was playing right into his father's
hands by letting him see how much he was being affected.

Ginny was once more feeling gloriously happy - she could see Draco and she was walking towards
him - he would welcome her, she knew - the voice in her head told her so and it knew everything.
Then suddenly, she could no longer see Draco - someone was standing in front of her - saying her
name softly. She looked up at him, recognition blossoming.

`Harry?' *What was Harry doing here?*

`Hi, Ginny.'

*Potter loves you too - remember how you once loved him?* the voice said in her head; Ginny
felt mildly confused. *But what about Draco?* she wondered.

The voice in her head sounded highly amused. This is the wonderful dilemma, Ginny - Draco loves
you and Potter loves you! *Harry loves me? But Harry loves Hermione!* And he loves you, too,
the voice said.

Ginny looked up at Harry, a frown creasing her brow. *I don't think that's right*,
she thought*, Harry only loves Hermione, I'm sure! And I love Dean, don't I?*

Lucius Malfoy rose abruptly from his seat, fury rising in him because this wasn't going as
he wanted. Not being privy to the silent exchange between his father and Ginny, Draco had been
sitting on the edge of his seat, wondering what was going to happen next, his view of Ginevra
blocked by Carrows-as-Potter. When his father sprang to his feet, Draco wondered if perhaps
something was going wrong. He hoped so.

`Carrows! Come back here - get away from her!' spat Lucius. Carrows did as he was told,
looking sullen; he'd been looking forward to tormenting the pretty little blood traitor.
Forcing himself to be calm, Lucius resumed his seat, once more using the Curse to exert control
over Ginny.

*You're right - forget Potter. It's Draco that matters. Remember how happy you felt
when you kissed him?*

Ginny's puzzled frown melted from her forehead and she once more looked at Draco. *I did,
didn't I?* she mused, all other thoughts drifting away.

*Yes indeed,* the voice agreed. *You were happy, Draco was happy, I was happy - everyone
was happy!*

*Yes! There was only happiness!* She smiled at Draco, wondering why he looked so sad. *I
will make him happy,* she thought, *I will go to him, put my arms around him and kiss him and
he will be happy too.*

*That's wonderful!* the voice exclaimed exultantly*. Go* *to him! Only you can
make him happy!*

As Ginny walked slowly towards him, Draco realised his father must once more have the situation
under control.

`Stand up Draco,' his father ordered and he did so, never again wanting to witness Ginevra
suffering the pain of the Cruciatus Curse because of him.

`She wants to make you happy,' said his father mockingly as Ginny stopped in front of him,
her hands sliding up the front of his silk robes, her fingers interlocking at the back of his neck.
`Don't stop her Draco. Help her to make you happy.'

Lucius once more felt content with his control of the situation, dismissing his error in trying
to include Potter in this little scenario and smiling as he watched his son succumb to his
deep-seated feelings for this wretched traitor, watching as Draco closed his eyes so that he
wouldn't have to see the happy yet horribly empty look in Ginevra's eyes as she smiled up
at him, watching as Ginny gently pulled on Draco's neck to bring his head down, closer, so she
could kiss him.

*Forgive me, Ginevra!* he cried in his mind as he felt soft, sweet lips claim his, feeling
himself swept away by the wonder of her kiss. She pressed the length of her slight, strong frame
against him, forcing a groan from the depths of his being, his arms tightening around her waist and
back. He knew an agony of despair and joy when she opened her mouth and he knew he was irrevocably
lost - the sensations overwhelming his whole body couldn't be ignored or denied, despite
knowing his father was watching. When her warm, insistent tongue pushed into his mouth all thoughts
of his father's presence flew from his mind and he gave himself over to pure sensation,
revelling in it.

Lucius smirked, feeling a pleasurable rush brought about by the knowledge that *he* was
responsible for this - that his traitorous son was simultaneously enjoying himself whilst also
suffering. He knew Draco would endlessly berate himself afterwards for allowing his feelings to
overwhelm him, knowing his touch could only disgust the woman he held in his arms. As Lucius
thought of what this would also do to Ginny later, he laughed once more, looking at Carrows who
returned the look, grinning widely, forgetting for the moment that he'd been sulking over the
loss of his own chance to torment this beautiful, young witch. Nott watched from the other end of
the room, finding the sight of “Harry Potter” sharing a moment with Lucius Malfoy supremely
amusing.

As Ginny pulled back slightly from the kiss, smiling against Draco's lips, she asked softly,
`You liked that, didn't you?'

`Yes,' he breathed, his forehead resting against hers, his eyes closed, his breathing
ragged.

`I made you happy,' she stated confidently.

`Oh, yes,' he whispered, the pain in his heart a sickening contrast to the joy brought by
her touch.

`Step away from her,' he heard his father say. He gently pulled Ginny's arms from around
his neck, holding her hands in his, giving in to an irresistible urge to drop a kiss on the back of
each of her small hands. Then he stepped aside as he dropped her hands, Ginny's eyes remaining
on him, glowing vacantly.

`Somnus sopor,' said his father, waving his wand offhandedly at Ginny. She immediately
crumpled, Draco catching her just in time to prevent her head hitting the floor. He turned and
glared at his father over his shoulder.

`I thought you said you weren't going to hurt her physically,' he said through clenched
teeth.

`I knew you'd catch her,' his father said carelessly, gesturing towards the armchair
Draco had been sitting in. `Sit her up in your seat; I'd like to have a few words with our
red-headed traitor.'

Draco gently lifted her and placed her in the armchair, her head leaning against the curved
back. Lucius conjured another armchair indicating to Draco he should take it; when he did, he was
sitting directly opposite Ginny, his knees only a few feet from hers; he could see her face
clearly.

When his father muttered, `Incedo,' his wand flicking at Ginny, she immediately awoke,
looking up with a confused expression, her hands tightly clutching the arms of the lounge.

Draco visibly flinched when the first thing she saw was him - and he could see the pain and
revulsion in her eyes.

*Because of me!* he despaired, holding her gaze, attempting to beg her forgiveness and
understanding with his eyes. Lucius' harsh voice cut into his consciousness.

`Is your mother dead yet?'

Draco froze; Ginny's head whipped around to stare at Lucius, his red eyes gleaming with
unhealthy pleasure in the distorted mask that was his face.

`What did you say?' Draco's voice was a hoarse whisper.

Ginny tore her eyes from Lucius' hideously smirking countenance and looked once more at
Draco. He was sitting with his eyes closed, unmoving, pain in every line of his face and body.

`I asked you whether your mother is dead yet.'

*Damn you!* thought Ginny viciously. *What sort of monster is capable of doing this to
his own son?* *And talking like that about his own wife?*

`Draco,' her voice was so soft he thought he'd imagined hearing it until he opened his
eyes to look across at her and saw sympathy in her soft brown gaze as she repeated his name,
`Draco?'

After everything he'd been forced to endure since coming to his old home he felt at this
moment he could take no more. Keeping his gaze locked with Ginny's and drawing strength from
the fact that she could still feel sorry for him despite what he'd been forced to do to her, he
managed to force an answer past the painful tightness in his throat.

`I don't know.'

Lucius gave a short, harsh laugh before saying in a deceptively calm tone, `I do.' Draco
wasn't to know that he was lying. Lucius took a deep breath - he was beginning to feel real
excitement now, his heart rate increasing and he wondered if his son would be able to maintain his
self-control. He hoped not.

Tearing his gaze from Ginny, Draco glared at his father, his hatred flashing in his eyes.

`You are her murderer!' he snarled.

Lucius shrugged. `She doesn't matter.' He let Draco see his eyes move to Ginny.

`So, traitor, how are you feeling now?'

Ginny glared back at him. `None of your bloody business,' she spat at him.

`Oh, my dear, tut tut! Such rudeness!' He lifted his wand, `Perhaps a little pain will
-'

`NO!' roared Draco as he stood up, towering over his father. `Enough!'

*Excellent! He's having trouble controlling himself.* Lucius felt another pleasurable
rush sweep through him.

`Sit down *now* or she will feel pain.' His father's voice held real menace and
Draco forced himself to sit once more.

`I alone will say when it is enough.' He turned back to Ginny. `Perhaps, despite your
revulsion for my son, you will nevertheless be affected by his pain if you are the cause.'

Ginny's eyes swung back to Draco; she looked horrified.

`It doesn't matter what he does to me,' said Draco, putting every ounce of persuasion he
could into his words, `you are not to blame, you are not responsible! Don't let him manipulate
you!'

`*Crucio!'*

Ginny's hands flew to her face, covering her eyes but not before she saw Draco's body
arch convulsively as the pain of the Curse threw him to his back on the floor, his face contorted
with pain and the effort of not screaming.

Ginny groaned, inwardly cursing Lucius Malfoy as her hands fell from her face, unable to prevent
herself from sliding to the floor to kneel beside Draco pain-ridden from, tears forming in her eyes
as she looked down at him. As the first tear trickled slowly down her cheek, his whole body
suddenly sagged, the Curse lifted; his hair was plastered down with sweat and he was panting, his
eyes closed.

`I - thought - you - said - physical - torture…' he gasped haltingly, unable to finish.

`I don't see that as physical torture,' Lucius' cold voice cut across his son's,
`that was merely a tool which I find very useful in helping me to manipulate others.' He took a
deep breath to steady himself - he hadn't enjoyed anything this much since his wife had
left.

Ginny turned, her mouth twisted with disgust, and just as she was about to fling a reply at
Lucius she felt Draco's hand take hers, squeezing gently as he whispered, `No, ignore him,
please…'

Ginny looked down at him once more, watching as he slowly opened his eyes. `Draco? Are you all
right?' she asked, her voice a mere whisper.

He gave her a crooked smile. `I've been better.'

Despite the tears falling down her cheeks, Ginny managed a small smile. `Come on, I'll help
you up.'

Her hand was still in Draco's and as she stood, she pulled so that he was sitting up,
holding out her other hand for him to grasp.

`How touching,' sneered Lucius although he was in fact pleased. Despite it going against
everything Ginny felt, a delicate bond was forming between her and Draco although she wasn't
yet aware of it. Lucius Malfoy was.

Once they were both seated again Lucius poured water from the second decanter into two goblets,
handing them one each. They both sat, hesitant to drink.

Lucius smiled mockingly. `Drink. It's just water.'

Draco held his hand up to Ginny so that she wouldn't drink, taking a sip from his goblet as
he did so. He swallowed, waited a few seconds then nodded; it seemed to be just what his father
said - water.

When they had emptied their goblets, both being very thirsty, Lucius ordered Nott to return
Draco to his room while he and Carrows, who still looked like Harry as an hour hadn't yet
passed, escorted Ginny upstairs. He felt charged through the sensations engendered by the
morning's events.

When they bypassed the door to her room, Ginny wandered what was going to happen now. Lucius
took them to the end of the landing, flung open the door of the last room and pushed her ahead of
him. At the sight of Hermione sitting beside the bed Ginny found the `No!' she'd been about
to scream out didn't get past her throat - Lucius had once more put her under the Imperius
Curse and she heard him laugh as Carrows-Harry, watched by a wide-eyed Hermione, grabbed her upper
arms and drew her to him, dropping his head to kiss her, long and hard. There was no soothing,
persuasive voice in her head this time - she simply felt no compulsion to fight anything that was
done to her.

`Enough. Take her back to her room.' Carrows reluctantly removed his lips from Ginny's,
grinning firstly down at her, then sideways at Hermione whose face held horrified disbelief. As he
left, one hand still clutching Ginny's arm as he walked, Lucius looked steadily into
Hermione's eyes and she became aware of a *presence* which seemed to be moving
purposefully through her mind leaving uneasiness in its dark wake. It - he? - seemed to be
searching for something and she found herself afloat in a sea of memories - or bits and pieces of
memories, with no escape. The presence - was it Malfoy? - seemed to be sifting through them all -
then she found herself immersed in the memory of the night of Ron and Luna's wedding - seeming
to rush through it until the image of dancing with Seamus swirled in her head - along with
Harry's jealousy. Then there was a strange stinging sensation in her head as though something
had pounced and at that same instant she became aware she could see Lucius again - and he had a
triumphantly malicious smile on his ghastly face. Hermione realised with dawning horror that Malfoy
had just successfully used Legilimency on her. *Listen to this Malfoy - you are a vile,
disgusting, loathsome creature not worthy of either the name man or wizard! You are a filthy
coward, Lucius Malfoy! Nothing but a cruel, repulsive COWARD!* She hoped her words would be
there for him to see if he ever entered her mind again, unasked - she hoped he would see and feel
the scope of her hatred and disgust for him.

Your turn tomorrow, Mudblood,' he said in a soft, menacing voice with an undertone of
anticipation. Then he left, gently closing the door behind him.

*

The evening of that same day, Molly Weasley was throwing frequent, nervous glances at the empty
portrait now hanging a little crookedly on her kitchen wall, squeezed in between her cookbooks on
the mantelpiece and the pots'n'pans cupboard. She was busy making yet another pot of tea as
they waited for Phineas Nigellus to appear in his temporarily relocated portrait and tell them what
had been happening at Malfoy Manor that day. “They” consisted of Arthur, Dean, Ron and Luna, Fred
and George, Neville and Priscilla and Professor Dumbledore.

Cups of tea poured - glasses of firewhiskey refreshed for some - they sat and waited,
conversation at a minimum. Phineas had made a brief appearance in Neville's office that morning
and told him he'd definitely have something to report that evening; Neville had asked him to
use his portrait at the Burrow in consideration of the Weasleys and also of the fact that it
wouldn't then matter what time Phineas made his appearance.

When a curt, `Good evening,' came from the no-longer blank portrait, Dean almost dropped his
glass, his attention immediately focused on Phineas who was looking coolly around the room at them
all.

Dumbledore stood, nodding at Phineas. `Good evening to you,' he replied courteously.

Phineas seemed to be eyeing each corner of his painting as though he knew it was a little
crooked and wasn't pleased about it.

`Please tell us what has occurred since this morning,' prompted Dumbledore.

Phineas, looking a little petulant, sniffed and looked out at the old wizard.

`Dear Lucius has been having rather awful fun at the expense of Miss Weasley and his son. They
were both taken down to the drawing room this morning but as there are no paintings whatsoever
hanging in there it was necessary for me to wait until the younger Malfoy was in a state to talk to
me to glean some idea of what took place.'

`Why couldn't he talk to you earlier?' demanded Dean, a sense of foreboding filling him
on hearing Phineas' words, “at the expense of Miss Weasley and his son” - *Ginny and Draco
Malfo**y!* The thought of Malfoy having anything to do with Ginny was like poison coursing
through his veins.

`He was extremely upset. I had told him two evenings prior that his mother was in the Hospital
Wing at Hogwarts, gravely ill. I have no doubt that this news, together with his father's
treatment of him and Miss Weasley was enough to prevent him from being coherent for a number of
hours.' He didn't think it necessary to point out that Draco had curled upon his bed,
unmoving, oblivious to Phineas' numerous, whispered calls for his attention. He'd gone to
Ginny's room to find her sitting slumped in the chair beside her bed; he didn't know
whether she was asleep or also oblivious to her surroundings.

`So what happened?' ground out Dean, wanting to know but not wanting to hear it.

Phineas then repeated the edited version of that morning's events as told to him by Draco
who, out of consideration for Ginny, tried to play down various aspects of what Lucius had done.
Even so, the bare facts of Ginny being put under the Imperius Curse (Draco still hadn't told
Phineas of the first occasion that Lucius had used that on her) and being made to kiss him and then
watch as Draco suffered the Crucio Curse - Lucius tormenting them both emotionally - including the
fact that he used Narcissa's illness and death to taunt Draco further was extremely distressing
to them all. When Phineas had finished speaking, Dean got up and walked out; he couldn't bear
to talk about it all at that moment and desperately needed time to absorb and deal with this
unwelcome information.

Dumbledore thanked Phineas before politely asking the former Headmaster to return to his vigil
at Malfoy Manor. After shrugging as though unaffected by all that had happened, Phineas sauntered
off, leaving the current Headmaster to sigh deeply.

`I don't quite know how to say this,' he began, looking around the table at the white,
shocked faces, glad that Dean's wasn't among them, `but Lucius Malfoy has become more
dangerous than we thought possible. I received many reports about him during the time he was
confined to Azkaban. It appears his pathological need for, and enjoyment of, mental control,
manipulation and torment has increased enormously - he's had free reign for some time now -
since his escape from Azkaban - and has increased his manipulative skills.' He decided against
saying any more or going into details about the extent to which Ginny would be suffering, Draco
also. He could only hope that somehow, very soon, Lucius would be unable to resist the temptation
to have all his victims together, in one room…

TO BE CONTINUED…

Author's Note

I'm sure you'll be glad to hear that we begin climbing out of the dark hole that is
Malfoy Manor in Chapter Eighteen which is finished and is with the wonderful Kirsti. In the
meantime, here are a couple of little appetite-whetting extracts:

Malfoy looked straight at Harry, his soulless eyes glinting redly, his thin lips working, his
voice coming out as a dry, sibilant rasp: `I did tell you, didn't I Potter, that I always
eventually get what I want.'

`*Kill them!*' he roared, Hermione flinching as his hot, foul breath washed over her
face.

As the power within and around Harry mounted, Lucius Malfoy was treated to a sight witnessed by
only one other wizard in history: Voldemort.

Till next Thursday!

Janie xoxoxo

-->



19. Four Weddings & A Funeral - Chapter Nineteen
------------------------------------------------



Author's Note

How's this folks? I'm early! Not that I'm pointing that to like, get on your good
sides or anything, like, you know, wanting you to think nicely about me once you reach the end of
this chapter, okay? *grins*

(*blows kisses to Kirsti*)

FOUR WEDDINGS & A FUNERAL

By Lady Jane

Chapter Eighteen

Harry sat up in bed, his heart pounding, automatically thinking *Lumos!* to dispel the
darkness. His wand, the end of it sticking out from under his pillow and visible only to him,
immediately glowed and he picked up his glasses from the small bedside table and put them on. He
wasn't sure what had awakened him so abruptly as all seemed quiet - he could hear nothing - no
movement, no voices. Glancing at his watch, he noted it was just after four in the morning;
he'd only been asleep for a couple of hours. He'd lain awake since his meagre, cold dinner
going over and over every possible tactic he may need; it was a necessary exercise and it helped to
keep his mind from staying permanently fixed on Hermione where it really wanted to be…

*Hermione!* Her name reverberated through his mind and his whole body tensed with the
knowledge that he *still* couldn't do anything. *Damn you**r* *vile,*
*ruined soul* *six ways to hell* *and back again Lucius Malfoy**!* he thought
viciously. Harry had argued long and hard with Dumbledore and Neville about trying to provoke
Malfoy into bringing everyone together - the only time he'd be able to ensure their safety.
Harry believed it was worth the risk - Dumbledore and Neville did not. They both felt that if Harry
persisted with any form of provocation, Malfoy would know Harry had an ulterior motive. The fact
that there was any chance at all they were right was the only thing preventing Harry from
*not* attempting to goad Malfoy into such a situation.

He swung his legs around to sit on the edge of the bed, running his hands through his
dishevelled black hair then resting his elbows on his knees, his head drooping. The enforced
waiting - days of it - was hard to endure and he wondered how Ginny was faring considering how long
she'd been here. *And* *Hermione…Hermione…*

As Harry sat on his bed, heavy hearted, Hermione slept restlessly, her Death Eater guard
standing silently watching her; the guards had returned to each of the captive's rooms, save
Harry's, after dinner the night before.

She had spent most of the previous day silently crying when she wasn't raging impotently at
Lucius Malfoy after he, with Ginny and someone she knew couldn't possibly have been Harry, had
appeared in her doorway. Ginny had looked distraught and Hermione was sure she'd been about to
say something when her face had suddenly become blank, just as the man who wasn't Harry had
kissed her. Ginny hadn't fought him in any way and Hermione was sure Lucius had used the
Imperius Curse on her - just as she was sure “Harry” was a product of Polyjuice Potion. But it had
been horrible nonetheless, seeing “Harry” kiss an unresisting Ginny - with the sickening sound of
Malfoy's sadistic laughter remaining long after he'd left.

While Hermione stirred restlessly in her sleep under the ever-watchful eye of her guard, Ginny
was lying, once again keeping her eyes closed, pretending to be asleep; she wasn't sure how
much she had actually slept during the night as she'd drifted in and out of consciousness and
had no sense of the time passed at all. When Malfoy and Carrows had brought her back to her room
the day before, she'd sat in her damned chair, despair claiming her once more. She'd not
moved until Latro had brought her dinner which she'd forced herself to eat, knowing that going
without the meagre amount of food she was given was not a wise move. Knowing that her friends and
family were doing their utmost to get them all out of here, she was determined to do her part,
although it wasn't proving easy.

She'd felt sickened and violated as she relived the events of that morning - of what Lucius
had forced her to do under the power of the Imperius Curse - of the way he'd been able to
manipulate both her and his son. She wanted to hate Draco for loving her - for doing what he could
to protect her, even as his father looked on. But she couldn't. Not in the way she had
previously. She knew it was because she'd been the only one there that he'd appeared in any
way “normal” or “nice” - if Harry or Hermione had been present he would've shown nothing but
disdain for them as he'd always done, as he always would. He only cared about his feelings for
her - he wouldn't do anything for her unless it was something he wanted to do - he wouldn't
help Harry or Hermione even for *her* sake unless it served him in some way. Yet, sharing the
suffering of Malfoy's torment that morning had created the most fragile of bonds between them
and she resented that, resented Draco. She felt as though Dean was slipping away from her - as
though she was being taken further and further from him - and was powerless to do anything about
it. It made her want to scream - scream out her frustration and her hatred for Lucius Malfoy.

She wasn't alone. Draco Malfoy, too, had succumbed to despair on returning to his room the
previous day. He'd curled up on his bed, a torrent of emotions ripping through him - first and
foremost was hatred for his father. He felt violated and humiliated - he railed at his helplessness
to do anything to help Ginevra. And his father had said he knew about his mother - whether she was
alive or dead - but he'd restrained himself from asking for that information; he felt as though
he'd be handing his father another weapon with which to torment him if he'd done so.
He'd heard Phineas' barely audible, sibilant whispers but had no interest in communicating
with anyone for any reason at that moment and had simply continued to lie there, curled up, lost in
a whirlpool of pain and heartache.

*

The sun was well up the next morning when Lucius Malfoy, seated at his formal dining table,
finished his breakfast, calling for his house-elf to clean up. When Latro crept nervously into the
room, he stopped at his master's knee, waiting to be acknowledged.

Lucius looked down at the cowering creature, his red eyes glowing with disgust.

`What is it?' he asked impatiently.

`Nott has returned master - he is waiting in the study.'

Without taking any further notice of his servant, Lucius rose quickly and eagerly made his way
across the hall to his study. He found Nott standing with his back to the fire, hands clasped
behind him.

`Well?' asked Lucius curtly as soon as he saw the other wizard.

Nott smiled, not a pleasant smile but it brought an answering grin from his master.

`You have it.' It was a statement and the Death Eater nodded in response.

`Was Finnigan aware of it?'

`No, I made sure of that.'

`Excellent. We don't want him running to Dumbledore with tales of some strange wizard
stealing strands of his hair.' Lucius' red eyes glowed with anticipation once more.
*Potter and Granger. This morning was going to be even more enjoyable than yesterday…*

*

As Harry preceded Nott into the large drawing room, his eyes were immediately drawn to his left
where Lucius Malfoy was sitting in a red velvet upholstered chair; a matching, empty armchair
beside him, a round, marble-topped table between the two. As his eyes moved across the far wall
with its with mullioned French doors overlooking a wide terrace and the gardens beyond, he could
see a light, drizzling rain falling outside. Then his gaze reached the other end of the room…

*Hermione!*

She was standing, her eyes mutely fixed on him. A Death Eater stood on each side of her, holding
her arms - the only reason she wasn't swaying unsteadily on her feet after her enforced
immobility.

He gazed longingly at the woman he loved - she was still wearing the same dark blue jeans and
light blue jumper he'd last seen her in. Her hair looked unbrushed, hanging down her back and
over her shoulders. He could see his own longing mirrored in her dark honey eyes and had to once
again force down the compulsion to kill Lucius Malfoy there and then - only too aware that
upstairs, Death Eaters stood beside Ginny, who mattered - and Draco Malfoy, who didn't - ready
to kill them instantly should anything happen to their master. He wasn't sure how they would be
aware of any harm that befell Lucius, but he didn't doubt Malfoy had found a way.

`Sit down, Potter,' ordered Malfoy, his small, tight smile not reaching his red eyes.

Harry turned and glared at Malfoy, then walked slowly to the empty armchair, keeping his eyes
fixed on Malfoy - holding his gaze, unblinking. The tension between the two wizards was almost
electrifying, broken only when someone knocked on the carved wooden doors, one of the doors
swinging open immediately afterwards.

`Our guest has arrived, I see,' said Malfoy smoothly, without taking his eyes from Harry who
was unable to control the impulse to look away towards the door.

*Seamus?**!* *What* *the hell was he doing here? Why?* *Did Dumbledore and
Neville know?* Harry's gaze swung back to Malfoy only to find the older wizard was still
looking at him - but now he was smiling and this time his smile reached his eyes, bringing a sickly
glow to their dark red depths.

Harry quickly looked away and up at Hermione - he didn't want to give Malfoy the
satisfaction of seeing fear in his eyes - his gut-wrenching fear for Hermione; his gut-wrenching
fear that Malfoy was going to do something that would make him forsake Ginny's safety - perhaps
forfeit her life - for Hermione's sake - and how would that make Hermione feel? Not to mention
Dean - and the rest of Ginny's family. He shuddered; for *everyone's* sake he had to
wait until the time was right - and somehow he knew it would be, eventually; he just had to endure
until then. He could see that Hermione was staring at Seamus who had come into the room, closing
the door behind him and standing there, staring back at Hermione, a smirk on his face.

Harry tried to will Hermione to look at *him* - but she seemed transfixed by the sight of
Seamus. Harry wasn't to know that she was remembering how Lucius Malfoy had entered her mind
the day before - bringing forth her memories - how she had felt a triumphant sensation as her
memory of dancing with Seamus had been played out again - along with Harry's jealousy. She once
again felt the enormous loathing she had for this twisted man writhe within her stomach - loathing
that had she had learned so many years ago as a young student at Hogwarts. *And w**as this
really Seamus? She didn't think so. Seamus had never smirked like that in all the years
she'd known him.* *And Seamus wouldn't be standing there unaccompanied in Lucius
Malfoy's home looking as though he was a cat about to partake of a bowl of cream. It had to be
someone else - it HAD to be!* Suddenly, her eyes snapped to Harry. *Did he know? Could he
guess? Merlin, how she wished she could talk! She could reassure him that this was nothing but a
ruse by Malfoy to - to do what? Drive Harry crazy? Sweet mother of Merlin! Would Harry be able to
control himself - even if he knew it couldn't possibly be Seamus? What the hell was Malfoy
doing? All this - this charade - for what? Why?*

Harry's inner turmoil prevented him from deciphering any of the myriad messages in
Hermione's eyes as she looked at him, her beautiful eyes wide and unblinking - it was as though
she knew something - but what? He felt his fingers tighten around the end of the arms of his chair
- they curled so tightly around the curved wood he felt sharp pain shoot along both his forearms -
but he took no notice. Neville had made some comment at the time of Lucius Malfoy's escape
about him becoming some sort of pathological maniac but he hadn't really understood what he
meant until now and he was desperately wishing he'd paid more attention.

`Good morning, Mr Finnigan. You are well, I hope?' Lucius' voice was suddenly pleasant -
although oily to Harry's ears.

`Very well, thank you Mr Malfoy,' came the reply in Seamus' soft Irish brogue. `I see
you have my favourite witch as a guest, also.'

`Indeed, Mr Finnigan. I believe she likes to dance.'

`As do I,' replied Seamus.

Harry was staring at Seamus. *Seamus? This can't be Seamus!* he told himself. His eyes
flicked to Hermione - she was still looking at Seamus intently. *She must be thinking that
too!* he thought, although it didn't help a lot. Harry had no idea which of Malfoy's
henchman it was but it was hard to dismiss what was before your eyes, regardless of how untrue it
was.

Seamus was walking towards Hermione and her two guards who had stood stolidly silent the whole
time.

`Would you like to indulge in another dance, Mr Finnigan?' asked Malfoy, the tone of his
voice raising the hairs on the back of Harry's neck.

`I surely would,' came the reply.

`Proceed,' said Malfoy simply, looking at the two Death Eaters that were holding
Hermione.

On hearing that one word from their master, they moved away from Hermione who momentarily
stumbled at the loss of support, but managed to hold herself upright, keeping her gaze on Harry.
*Harry, wearing her favourite “outfit”* *- she wished she could tell him how much it meant
to her* *because she knew it would've been a deliberate choice.*

Then she suddenly had to close her eyes as her surroundings seemed to blend and whirl madly
around her - she felt magic at work and looked down to see herself in the same flowing, silver
dress she'd worn for Ron and Luna's wedding then looked up to find she was once more at the
wedding - hearing the music - seeing the people. Then Seamus was before her and at that moment, a
gossamer cloud seemed to descend on her mind and this was *real…* it *was* the night of
Ron and Luna's wedding… she *was* dancing with Seamus…

Lucius Malfoy actually grinned. He'd been right to “rehearse” with Draco and that Weasley
traitor the day before - it hadn't taken more than a few hours for his deviant mind to “iron
out the wrinkles” and he knew he was now conducting a masterpiece - worthy of his abilities, with
players worthy of his attention…

Harry watched, fear and loathing etched on his face; he didn't notice one of the Death
Eaters who had been guarding Hermione move behind Malfoy's chair and partake once more of
Polyjuice Potion, this time staying out of sight until the transformation was complete and he
looked like…Harry Potter.

Harry sat and watched as Hermione and Seamus once more swept majestically around the magically
conjured dance floor; he lost sight of all the other dancers as their two figures became the focus
for him. Hermione was laughing breathlessly up at Seamus, her eyes aglow with pure enjoyment as
they'd been on the actual night.

Then Harry saw himself appear on the edge of the dance floor. *How was that possible?* He
saw himself standing there, his eyes following Hermione and Seamus. *It's some sort of
hallucination!* Seamus Accioed the pale pink rose and presented it to Hermione. *He felt once
again the bitterness of his jealousy on the night.* Only this time Hermione didn't laugh
lightly and kiss Seamus on the cheek by way of thanks. This time her expression because serious and
Harry felt his insides twist as Hermione's hand went from resting on her partner's shoulder
in the formal dance position to sliding behind his neck and into his hair, drawing his head down as
she stretched up, her head tilting ever-so-slightly so that their lips met in a soft kiss - a kiss
which quickly lost its softness and became very passionate. *This is not real, this is NOT
real!* he repeated over and over to himself. *This is not Seamus and Hermione has been
enchanted. It's not real!*

But despite the fact that he *knew* it wasn't real - to see something that previously
would have only been an image conjured by his jealous mind - was almost his undoing. Then he
watched as he - his double - moved from the side of the dance floor towards the two dancers. *Hit
him! Hurt him! STOP him!* cried his mind as he looked on.

Lucius Malfoy was feeling triumphantly ecstatic, wondering how long he'd be able to milk
this scene for all it was worth before Potter - the *real* Potter - broke his self-imposed
reins and did - what? What would he do? He could barely restrain himself from rubbing his hands
together in glee. This was just such a wonderful form of revenge that he momentarily entertained
disloyal thoughts about Voldemort's lack of appreciation of this form of torment and
torture.

Harry, uncaring of what Lucius Malfoy thought, was struggling to remain in his seat. He
*knew* this wasn't real, he *knew* Hermione had to be under the Imperius Curse…and
yet, to have his worst - and so far *only* - jealous fantasy playing out before his eyes was
causing him to struggle mightily with his self-control. He wanted to reduce whoever was pretending
to be Seamus to *ashes* and literally grab Hermione and immediately Apparate out of here, the
words `*She's mine!*' echoing in his head. But then Dumbledore's calm voice wound
around his angry pain and need - `Harry, don't forget that Lucius will employ any means to gain
his twisted end - never forget that the safety of Hermione and Ginny is paramount - in other words,
my dear boy, don't let him get to you.'

Trembling with the effort, Harry forced himself to sit back in the armchair once more, his
tight, drawn features not revealing to Lucius Malfoy's watchful eye that echoing in Harry's
mind were the same harsh syllables, repeating themselves over and over in a mindless mantra… *He
will die, he will die…*

*

Hermione couldn't quite understand why she'd kissed Seamus of all people but somehow it
had seemed the right thing to do. Then she saw Harry walking towards them, glaring at them. Her
first thought was to smile at him, to break away from Seamus and go to Harry. *No, no, you need
to stay with Seamus,* said a gently persuasive voice in her head. Hermione faltered, confused.
Why do I need to stay with Seamus? What about Harry? *Seamus needs you just now, you need to be
with Seamus. Don't worry about Harry.* But “Harry” had stepped into the path of their slow
dance, bringing them to a sudden halt.

`Excuse us, Harry,' said Seamus politely.

`Go to hell!' snarled “Harry”.

It was then that Hermione discovered she couldn't speak - and the gentle voice in her head
was telling her not to worry, it was just a dream, not to worry…

`Hermione! Come here, to me, now!' “Harry” sounded vicious. `I've seen quite
enough!'

`She's dancing with me,' said Seamus quietly.

`Not anymore!' “Harry” grabbed Hermione's arm and pulled, abruptly separating her from
Seamus. As she swung to face him, he brought his other hand up and slapped her across the face.

Lucius Malfoy had been watching Harry across the small space that divided their two armchairs,
his enjoyment of Harry's obvious struggle almost obscene. As the sound of the slap resounded in
the room, he saw Harry launch himself upright - simultaneously hearing an enormous rush of sound as
it erupted around Harry, filling the whole room. It sounded like the fury of a storm forced into a
small space as indeed it was.

Ignoring everyone and everything but the figure of Hermione as she stood, still in the grip of
the Death Eater/Harry, one hand covering the spot on her cheek where she'd been slapped,
looking blankly up at her assailant, Harry roared her name, his hair whipping around wildly in the
magical wind. The sound of her name was caught up in the invisible, roaring vortex that could be
felt and heard by all in the room. Unaware of the fear he was instilling in everyone around him,
Harry strode down the room, the centre of the storm moving with him - *he was the
storm**!* - his face frozen into a mask of fury. As he came within a few feet of the two
Death Eaters standing with Hermione, the two wizards hesitated only a second before leaving,
stumbling backwards in their haste to get away from him, frightened almost senseless in the face of
the raw and terrifying power buffeting them, generated by the furious man before them.

Harry reached Hermione as she began to crumple and caught her, picking her up before turning -
her now unconscious form in his arms - his gaze locking with Malfoy's as he stood there. From
his flashing green eyes and clenched jaw down to his feet, planted firmly apart, braced against the
extra weight he was holding, he was emanating almost palpable waves of incredible force and power.
The pleasure Lucius Malfoy had been deriving from Harry's torment was faltering in the face of
this almost offhanded display of potent force. Then, even as fury still burned in his green eyes,
the phenomenal surge of magical power beginning to slowly ebb now that Harry had reached his goal:
Hermione.

Malfoy began smirking as he looked down the length of the room at Harry. Not so the two Death
Eaters (who ludicrously still looked like Seamus and Harry); they were standing behind Malfoy's
armchair as if putting their master between themselves and some terrible danger.

`Lost control, Potter?' sneered Malfoy and without waiting for an answer or taking his eyes
from Harry, called out, his voice sounding as though it was passing over sandpaper, `Bring her
in!'

One of the large, carved doors swung open to reveal Latro, the house-elf, looking unutterably
miserable, with Ginny behind him, still magically bound, a hooded Death Eater beside her, his wand
pointed at her heart.

`Well?' asked Malfoy, his awful red gaze still fixed on Harry. Malfoy had known the chances
of Harry losing control at some point were better than average and had had Ginny brought down in
preparation for just that occurrence. He was sure that her presence, albeit under threat, would
prevent Harry from employing any of his unusual powers.

`Going to let Draco miss out on the fun, are you?' spat Harry. `Or perhaps you don't
want your son to see what a foul, idiotic bastard his father his?' His throat was almost
painfully dry as he forced out the words, his heart in his mouth. *Dear Merlin, let him bring
that Slytherin slime down here or I may just go ahead without him and he* *could*
*die* *- not that I would care**!*

Harry watched with satisfaction as Lucius' face became suffused with colour, his red eyes
almost bulging.

`How dare you speak to me like that!' he hissed. Harry simply continued to glare at him,
challenging him.

Malfoy seemed to collect himself - he stood up slowly, the sickly colour draining from his
face.

`Bring Draco down,' he barked, his voice harsh. `Perhaps he may learn something of what he
could have been.' Malfoy gestured to the Death Eater guarding Ginny to bring her in as “Harry”
and “Seamus” both retreated with great haste from the room to do his bidding. As they stood
waiting, still with their gazes locked, Harry concentrated fiercely on not letting any sign of
triumph show in his eyes.

It was only a minute before Draco appeared in the doorway, although it felt like an eternity to
Harry. The younger Malfoy's steps faltered as he entered and he took in the sight of his father
standing in front of the armchair, his relaxed posture belying the incredible tension crackling in
the air as he kept his gaze locked with Harry's. Draco's eyes widened as he saw that Harry
was standing at the other end of the room, Hermione's limp form in his arms. *What was wrong
with the Mudblood?* he wondered, *Was she dead? No,* he reasoned quickly, *she can't
be,* *if she was dead we'd all be dead - Potter would go berserk!* In a strange
about-turn, he understood this completely because he knew that if any harm came to Ginevra, he too
would be a man without reason and with no responsibility for his actions. His eyes came to rest
finally on Ginny who stood away to his left, her guard still holding his wand to her heart. No
doubt, she was Lucius' insurance against Potter attempting to kill him and escape. He wished
she'd look at him but she seemed hypnotised by the sight of Harry and Hermione. He heard the
door close behind him and knew the two Death Eaters who'd escorted him downstairs were now
behind him. *Probably staying close to the door in case they need to bolt, the cowards!* he
thought with contempt; it had been obvious when they came to get him that they were scared and now
that he was here, he felt sure it was because of Potter and not his father as he'd originally
thought.

`I think, Potter,' said Lucius, his voice ringing in the silence that had hung over the
room, `that you should put your Mudblood down and come back here and resume your seat. I
haven't finished yet.'

`And *I* haven't started,' replied Harry; his voice throbbed with menace.

`Start what?' sneered Malfoy. `You're hardly in a position to do anything,
Potter!'

`You're mistaken, Malfoy,' said Harry in the same low, menacing voice.

Draco, very aware that Ginny's life hung by a thread, felt his heart pounding and before he
could stop himself, he'd spoken.

`Potter! Don't do anything foolish, you idiot! What about Ginevra?' His arm swung around
to indicate Ginny who still hadn't taken her eyes off Harry.

His father turned suddenly and glared at Draco.

`You disgust me!' he spat. `You with your revolting obsession for that -' he waved his
hand dismissively in Ginny's direction, `- traitorous piece of filth!'

`*Shut up!* *Damn you - shut up!*' Draco roared, feeling his own anger escalating
beyond manageable levels.

`Hmm, I touched a nerve, I see,' said Lucius, a smile pulling at his mouth.

Draco felt the hatred and anger that had been building within him for all the months he'd
had to care for his mother begin to expand - he felt that every part of his mind and every corner
of his heart held nothing but pure, cold hatred for this disfigured wizard before him and more than
anything he wanted to feel his hands around his father's throat, squeezing the unnatural life
out of him…

Ignoring Draco, Lucius turned once again to Harry. `There's no hope for him, I feel,' he
said uncaringly. `I'll kill him later. Now, put the Mudblood down, Potter and come back here. I
think a simple *Enervate* will be enough to get her up and dancing again, don't you?
I'm rather looking forward to seeing what else we can persuade her to do.'

Harry's vision blurred from ferocity of the anger that coursed through him and he knew he
had to do it now, before Draco lost control and did something unexpected and foolish…before he
himself lost control…

He worked at pushing his anger back, aware it would only hinder him. Then he stumbled as
Hermione's weight vanished from his arms and he looked around wildly as his eyes sought her,
coming to rest on her as she stood within the circle of Lucius Malfoy's arms; he was supporting
her, although it appeared he must have used the *Enervate!* charm as Hermione was partially
conscious, trying valiantly to keep her head up and look around.

Malfoy looked straight at Harry, his soulless eyes glinting redly, his thin lips working, his
voice coming out as a dry, sibilant rasp: `I did tell you, didn't I Potter, that I always
eventually get what I want.' His eyes flicked momentarily to the Death Eater guarding Ginny and
then to the two standing behind Draco.

`*Kill them!*' he roared, Hermione flinching as his hot, foul breath washed over her
face. Harry's head snapped back, his eyes closing as forces not familiar to any normal wizard
or witch gathered instantly within him, their target Lucius Malfoy and his minions, their cause the
horror of Lucius Malfoy's machinations and their goal: destruction of evil.

As Harry, beginning to draw on the power coalescing within him, brought his head up to once more
gaze upon Lucius Malfoy, the air within the room became charged with so much magical energy that it
crackled and sparkled in the very air, although the room's occupants were too terrified to
appreciate the beauty of the display.

As the power within and around Harry mounted, Lucius Malfoy was treated to a sight witnessed by
only one other wizard in history: Voldemort.

What happened next was painstakingly reconstructed from many hours of discussion and talks
amongst those who were present (and lived to tell the tale) including the limited use of
Legilimency by Dumbledore.

*

Once all the details had been captured and set down on parchment, Neville Longbottom read over
that final report before handing it to his boss. Despite having heard everyone's accounts first
hand and being instrumental in the writing of this report, the awe it inspired was as fresh and
vibrant as ever and he found himself wishing he'd been there to see it for himself…

TO BE CONTINUED…

Author's Note

Are you thinking nice things about me? You're not picking up something to throw at me?
*Janie peeks out from behind her monitor, looking out for cyber missiles* I promise I'll be
posting Chapter 19 early too! Really and truly!!

Janie oxoxoxoxo

Will some Chapter 19 excerpts help you to smile when you think of me? *wink wink*

Chapter Nineteen (excerpts)

*`Kill them!'*

When Harry heard Lucius Malfoy order his Death Eaters to kill Ginny and Draco, he knew the time
had arrived, that *this* was the moment for action. And he was ready.

*

Harry turned his head to take in the sight of Hermione, still in Lucius' grasp, but fully
conscious now and felt his heart leap at the blazing look of joy, love and triumph in her eyes -
directed at *him!*

*

Ginny felt herself shaking. Never would she have imagined that it was possible for a wizard to
do what Harry had just done.

*

Draco gasped, looking up and turning around so fast he stumbled. He stared at the woman standing
there, only able to whisper, `What are you doing here?'

`I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you.' Ginny had stopped a few feet away,
looking down at her entwined fingers which were twisting and turning around themselves
nervously.

Draco's heart was in his mouth. `Why are you here?' he asked again. It was painful to
see her…

Toodles!

-->



20. Four Weddings & A Funeral - Chapter Nineteen
------------------------------------------------



Author's Note

Slightly shorter than usual chapter - but good things come in small packages (I hope!)

(Once again, Janie sends a million thanks flying over the sea to Kirsti!)

FOUR WEDDINGS & A FUNERAL

By Lady Jane

Chapter Nineteen

*What happened next was painstakingly reconstructed from many hours of discussion and talks
amongst those who were present (and lived to tell the tale**), i**ncluding the limited
use of Legilimency by Dumbledore.*

*Once all the details had been captured and set down on parchment, Neville Longbottom
rea**d* *over that final report before handing it to his boss. Despite having heard
everyone's accounts first hand and being instrumental in the writing of this report, the awe it
inspired was as fresh and vibrant as ever and he found himself wishing he'd been there to see
it for himself…*

*`Kill them!'*

When Harry heard Lucius Malfoy order his Death Eaters to kill Ginny and Draco, he knew the time
had arrived, that *this* was the moment for action. And he was ready.

His head snapped back, he closed his eyes - reaching down for the power that lay dormant within
him - the power that had first been revealed when he'd defeated Voldemort. Harry knew this
extraordinary power, not experienced by any other of his kind, was the creation of his own, very
unique circumstances. Even Albus Dumbledore was in awe of it - what he had seen of it. The irony
was that Voldemort had had an intrinsic part in the origin of this power - the very power that had
enabled Harry to eventually defeat him. Unlike his former nemesis, Harry's power wasn't
fuelled by hatred, but by love; it was Harry's immense capacity for love that was at the core
of his great power.

In the same time as it takes to draw a breath, Harry awakened the force within him, expedited by
the fact that Hermione's life depended on his ability to act swiftly; he brought his head up
and on opening his eyes he could see the very air glittering with the magnitude of the magical
energy he'd called forth - his whole body was pulsing with it. He looked down the length of the
room at Lucius Malfoy to see him glaring at his Death Eaters who, contrary to his orders, were
hesitating, their eyes irresistibly drawn to Harry.

`*Kill them!*' For the second time, the command was issued.

As each second that passed seemed to expand to encompass a minute, everything appeared to Harry
to be happening slowly; his gaze moved to his left, away from Lucius and Hermione, past Ginny to
Draco, who stood with his hands raised, his fingers curled. Harry thought he looked as though he
wanted to strangle his father.

Harry's eyes moved to Draco's left, back to see Ginny staring at him, her eyes wide with
fear and hope. Then he turned his head to take in the sight of Hermione, still in Lucius'
grasp, but fully conscious now and he felt his heart leap at the blazing look of joy, love and
triumph in her eyes - directed at *him!*

Harry raised his right arm, palm out, his fingers stretched open, and as he allowed the power he
controlled to rush through him towards his hand, he threw his head back and roared:

`*SHE IS MINE AND I WILL NOT ALLOW YOU TO HARM HER!'*

The strength of the magic coursing through him magnified Harry's voice to such a degree that
the glass in the windows rattled. Lucius turned to let his gaze rest once more on Harry, his red
eyes revealing the first flickers of fear as again the ferocious, magical wind sprang out of
nowhere and began to whip at everything in the room - the green, velvet drapes twisting and
writhing as though alive. Hermione's hair was flung across Lucius' face and he pushed her
to arm's length to escape the stinging strands. Only Lucius Malfoy and the hooded Death Eater
guarding Ginny and Draco were wearing robes, the sharp snapping sound they made as they flapped
violently about their legs lost in the roar of the relentless turbulence.

Through the chaotic tempest, Harry once again looked into Hermione's eyes. Then
unexpectedly, he smiled at her - for her; a smile that rejoiced at his impending victory. A smile
that held triumph and a smile that held, above all else, his jubilation at knowing she was going to
be safe. Hermione realised she had tears rolling down her face but she, too, was smiling; the look
in Harry's eyes was for her alone - and it held all his love for her, she could *feel* it.
And at that precise second, Harry unleashed the full force of the power he'd been holding at
bay.

*This* was the power that had defeated Voldemort. *This* was the power that had
*destroyed* Voldemort and rid the world of his vile presence, reducing him to less than
nothing.

And *t**his* was the power that now surged towards Lucius Malfoy. The jet of light
wasn't the horrid, sickly green of the Avada Kedavra, it was a blindingly bright blue - a
cleansing light. If Harry had taken his eyes from Hermione at that instant, he would've seen
the enormity of Lucius Malfoy's fear as he realised he was about to die.

There was a blinding, blue flash - an ear-splitting screech - screams - the sound of men's
voices crying out in dreadful fear and then, just as the roar of the wind reached a crescendo, it
suddenly began to dwindle. As the storm died away, a silent stillness settled over the whole room,
each of the survivors frozen in place, each of them awe struck at what they'd just witnessed.
The eyes of those who were left were riveted on Harry.

Hermione was the first to move. She somehow found the energy to run the length of the room and
throw herself at Harry, her heart almost bursting with relief and joy and love - all directed at
this man - *her* man! Harry wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her knotted,
windblown hair.

*She was safe. His world was intact.*

*

Ginny felt herself shaking. Never would she have imagined that it was possible for a wizard to
do what Harry had just done and if she hadn't seen it for herself, she probably wouldn't
have believed it. Despite the fact that Lucius had held Hermione in his grasp, Harry had thrown
some sort of spell at him that had apparently obliterated Lucius while leaving Hermione untouched.
But of course, Harry would never allow harm to come to Hermione. What Ginny didn't know was
that Harry's spell was guided by his *will* and his will dictated the end of Lucius Malfoy
- just as it dictated that nothing whatsoever would harm Hermione.

As the realisation that it was all over slowly sunk in, Ginny sagged to the floor, her right
hand spread on the floor to support her. The Death Eater that had been guarding her was still
standing - his face a mask of fear and horror. Draco turned, his expression dazed, and looked down
at Ginny. As she met his stunned, grey gaze she realised that the two Death Eaters that had been
with him - the two who had used Polyjuice Potion to become Harry and Seamus - were also gone. It
was too much to take in - she would ask later what had happened to them.

Draco was completely stunned - he'd watched as that streak of blue light had hit his father
and engulfed him. When it cleared, his father was no longer there. There was nothing left behind to
indicate that there had been anyone there. Potter had done what Draco had believed he wanted to do
so desperately himself - destroy his father. While he felt relief at his father's destruction,
Draco was also aware of a strange sadness stealing over him. He turned to look down at Ginny who
had gracefully sunk to the floor, no doubt in shock. He felt enormous relief wash over him knowing
she was all right and that it was all over.

`Ginevra?' His voice was a husky croak. `Are you all right?'

Ginny could only nod as she gazed up at him. `Your father…' she whispered.

A shadow of a smile touched Draco's lips. `Don't worry about him - the world will be a
far better place without him.'

`Still…' began Ginny.

`It's all right Ginevra - truly. I'm glad he's gone. I wanted to kill him
myself.' His eyes swung around to the sight of Harry and Hermione, their arms around each
other. `Trust Potter to beat me to it.' His voice held a tinge of envy and bitterness. Ginny
wasn't to know that these feelings were caused not only by the fact that Harry had been solely
responsible for his father's demise, but that the woman Harry loved, loved him back...

Ginny felt hysterical laughter bubbling within her - but it became a strangled sob instead and
she brought her hands up to her face, finding herself crying uncontrollably.

Draco was on his knees beside her in a moment, his arms around her slight, shaking form, holding
her to him. He allowed himself, for a few precious moments, to feel the satisfaction of being able
to comfort her, to hold her - rejoicing in the warm intimacy of embracing her and the knowledge
that, for this one magical moment, she wasn't rebuffing him…

The one remaining Death Eater had taken in the fact that his master had been killed -
obliterated - along with two of his fellow Death Eaters and whilst wondering how on earth it was
all possible, began to fear for his own safety. Was Potter going to kill him, too? As the
red-headed woman he'd been guarding collapsed to the floor and his master's son kneeled
beside her, apparently comforting her, it came to him that for some reason he'd been spared -
Harry Potter had spared him. Why? His gaze shifted to Harry - holding Hermione to him - and again
he wondered why. He felt fear rush through him as he suddenly found himself looking into those
famous green eyes.

`Get out,' said Harry. His voice, although quiet, was flint hard and threatening. `Tell
every one of your *friends* what happened here - and that it will be their fate should I
*ever* come across them.'

With the realisation that he'd been spared simply to be a messenger, the frightened man
fled.

Draco and Ginny had looked up on hearing Harry's voice. Once the Death Eater was gone, Draco
stood up, helping Ginny to her feet, keeping one arm around her waist, the other holding her hand.
Silent tears still ran down her cheeks unchecked, but she was calmer, no longer sobbing. Draco felt
a fierce desire to crush her to him; he wanted to bury his face in her hair and tell her he loved
her and wanted to keep her safe, always. But the words stuck in his throat and he knew he'd
never say them, that it wasn't his right. He did, however, draw her to him, holding her gently
within the circle of his arms, murmuring soft words of comfort.

Ginny felt disorientated and while she was aware on some level that she shouldn't be
accepting any form of consolation from Draco Malfoy, she was powerless at this moment to refuse it.
She was heart-sick and too weary to reject comfort from any quarter.

As soon as the Death Eater had left, Harry turned back to Hermione, his joy renewed at having
her in his arms once more, safe and sound. She was smiling up at him, her eyes glowing.

`Harry, that was - well, amazing doesn't really describe it, but I can't think of
anything that would truly do it justice!'

`Just that old “saving-people-thing” my love,' Harry said with a chuckle, relief still
coursing in his veins.

`But what was it? How did you do that?'

`Later. I'll explain everything later. Dumbledore is probably outside now with a team of
Aurors and Hit Wizards. We need to get out of here. This place should be razed to the
ground.'

`It will be.' Draco's voice was thick with revulsion. What had once been his home was
now nothing but a monument to horror.

The muffled sound of distant voices reached them and Harry led them out of the wrecked remains
of the drawing room. The front doors burst open as they reached the foyer and Dumbledore swept into
Malfoy Manor, his gaze quickly finding Harry's.

`It's done,' said Harry.

Dumbledore nodded, stepping aside as Dean rushed through the door, looking around.

`Dean!' Ginny's voice held tears and joy as she wrenched herself out of Draco's
embrace and ran to her husband.

His strong arms wrapped around her and he lifted her up, holding her tightly, whispering her
name over and over.

`I'm all right, really, I'm all right!' cried Ginny as she hugged him with all her
might. Over Ginny's shoulder, Dean's eyes met Draco's.

`She's all yours,' said Draco with irony in his voice.

`I don't need you to tell me that Malfoy!' spat Dean. Then he dropped his gaze and
determinedly put Draco Malfoy out of his mind. Despite his bitter hatred for the blonde wizard, he
didn't want to waste one thought on him right now - he just wanted to concentrate on Ginny.

The team of four Aurors and two Hit Wizards that had accompanied Dumbledore and Dean spread out
through the house, checking each room, returning quickly to report that they'd found no one
except the house-elf.

The terrified creature was shuffling along in front of them and when he spotted Draco, he bowed,
his voice shaking as he managed to say, as required by tradition after the death of the head of the
house, `Master, I am Latro, your house-elf.'

Draco nodded curtly then looked up as someone else strode into the foyer. It was Neville.

He glanced at Harry and winked. `So, you managed to do it, eh, Harry?'

Harry laughed. The sweeping feeling of release from the horror of the last week was making him
feel light headed. That and the feel of Hermione, still in his arms.

`All right, everyone!' Neville called out. `Harry, Hermione, Ginny and Dean, you'll go
back to the Burrow with Professor Dumbledore. The rest of you come with me to my office for a
debriefing.'

*

Because Dumbledore was so confident that Harry would triumph, he'd given in to his desire to
have everyone gather at the Burrow in anticipation of Lucius' defeat and so they were all there
to welcome them home. Professor Dumbledore left shortly after seeing them home safely; he was on
his way to the Ministry and Neville's office.

At the sight of Ginny, Molly could barely speak for crying and even Arthur was seen wiping his
eyes a few times.

After two cups of strong, hot tea which her mother had laced with Sleeping Draught, Ginny began
to yawn. Dean, who hadn't moved from Ginny's side since first laying eyes on her at Malfoy
Manor, picked her up and told her she was going to bed. Ginny didn't argue, rather suspecting
her mother had had a hand in the sudden onset of tiredness. She was actually rather grateful
because she was sure that without the help of the Sleeping Draught, her rest would be nothing more
than one long nightmare and she was too exhausted to make any attempt to come to terms with her
ordeal just yet. That would come later.

Ginny was asleep before Dean even tucked her into her bed, after which he lay down beside her,
his arm curled around her.

*

Draco thought it rather cruel that the day should be so beautiful when inside he felt so leaden
and bleak.

He and Professor Dumbledore were standing by the newly filled grave of Narcissa Black Malfoy, a
gleaming marble headstone in place, courtesy of the Headmaster. It had his father's name on it
as well, even though there had been nothing left of him to bury. His mother had been near death
when he'd returned to Hogwarts the night of the day his father had died. She'd never
regained consciousness as her life slowly ebbed away during the long, tortuous hours of the next
day.

Dumbledore had suggested he bury his mother here, at Hogwarts, and he'd listlessly agreed.
And so this bright, sunny Monday morning found him here, in the Hogwarts graveyard.

Sensing that he wanted to be alone, the Headmaster placed a hand lightly on Draco's
shoulder, saying he was returning to the castle. Draco had nodded and listened as the old
wizard's footsteps died away, leaving him along with his sorrow and wandering thoughts.

And so he stood, his eyes closed, head bowed, feeling drained and more lost than he had ever
done before. His parents were now both dead and there was no one else he cared for - or cared for
him. Well, there was Ginevra - but that was a lost and impossible dream.

`Draco?'

Draco gasped, looking up and turning around so fast he stumbled. He stared at the woman standing
there, only able to whisper, `What are you doing here?'

`I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you.' Ginny had stopped a few feet away,
looking down at her entwined fingers, which were twisting and turning around themselves
nervously.

Draco's heart was in his mouth. `Why are you here?' he asked again. It was painful to
see her - to remember how she'd felt in his arms - and know that he would never experience that
again. As he stood there gazing at her, he knew then he'd be leaving England, never to return.
He couldn't risk ever seeing her again. The pain of not seeing her would not be as awful as the
pain of seeing her and *not* being able to talk to her or hold her…

Ginny glanced up at him, her eyes dark with sympathy. `I'm so sorry you lost your
mother.'

Draco nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

Ginny stepped forward. She was close enough to touch. *Wh**y* *was she here?* The
question tormented him.

`I just wanted - I mean, I'd like to say -' Ginny faltered, dropping her gaze once more
to her restlessly twisting fingers.

Taking a deep breath, Draco reached out and took her hands in his, stilling the movement of her
fingers. Her skin felt so soft and warm. He could feel his heart beating faster, just through this
small contact with her.

`Just say it, please,' he said softy, wanting - *needing* - to be going, to leave his
past behind; to leave *her* behind although he knew he would carry the memory of her with him
for the rest of his life.

Ginny steeled herself. Despite her intrinsic revulsion for everything this man and his family
had stood for, she felt she owed him something and being the person she was, she wouldn't be
able to rest until she'd acknowledged it by telling him.

Leaving her hands in his, Ginny straightened and looked Draco in the eye as she began to
speak.

`I want to say “thank you”. For your - consideration. When you came to tell me what you could
because I'd been told nothing and you knew I was scared and alone - for trying to protect me
from your father, for taking my side against him. It did help, it did make a difference and I
wanted you to know that. So, thank you.'

Draco knew he had nothing to lose and spoke impulsively. `I would always do these things for
you, Ginevra. I love you. I always will.'

It was the truth and Ginny could see it reflected in his eyes. In that moment she realised how
painful it must be for him to know that she would never like him, let alone love him, when he felt
so much for her.

She was suddenly overwhelmed with tremendous pity for this sad man and before she could think
about it, she pulled her hands from his and lifting them, gently stroked his face, running her
hands across his cheeks, skimming them over his ears and down, to rest around his neck, her
fingertips just touching at the back; she could feel the softness of his hair where it rested
against her hands.

His eyes held surprise and wonder and a question, hers were sparkling with unshed tears of
compassion. Ginny exerted enough pressure on Draco's neck so that he automatically leant down
and she reached up and kissed him on the mouth, pouring her gratitude, pity and sorrow for him into
that kiss - and her goodbye.

As Ginny lips touched his, Draco felt shock first followed by a sharp, stabbing joy. Despite
knowing that only pity and gratitude were the real reasons for this kiss, he couldn't help but
rejoice at the knowledge that she was doing this of her own free will - no Imperius Curse, no
cursed crystal roses - she was kissing him because she wanted to. And that made it the sweetest
kiss of all. As their lips met, Draco's hands moved unthinkingly to Ginny's waist, pulling
her ever-so-slightly closer to him. Despite knowing it may cause her to recoil, he nevertheless
couldn't stop himself from pushing against her soft lips with his tongue, wanting *more…*
and when her lips parted and he felt her warm, velvet tongue sweep into his mouth he was helpless
to prevent the soft moan that escaped him. As if in response to that, Ginny reached up and wrapped
her arms around his neck, which effectively brought the whole length of her body into contact with
his. Draco reflexively wrapped one arm around her waist to hold her there, his other hand sweeping
up her back to entangle itself in her dishevelled, gold-red curls. The feel of her mouth and his
tongue entwined with hers was the most intoxicating thing he'd ever experienced.

*I'm dreaming!* he thought wildly, *this is* *paradise!*

Ginny suddenly pulled back, gasping, her eyes wide with confusion as she looked up at him.

It was over.

Draco immediately released her, a self-deprecating smile forming on his lips.

`Don't worry, Ginevra. It was no doubt a mixture of your pity, the residual effects of those
accursed roses and whatever bond was forged between us the last few days at my father's hands.
It doesn't mean you've suddenly gone mad or that' - he faltered a little here - `you
actually feel anything for me.' Hurtful and hard to say, but true and he couldn't help
himself - he didn't want her suffering in any way because of him.

Ginny nodded dazedly as she took another two steps back away from him. She knew he was right but
she'd shocked herself nonetheless.

`The roses…' she murmured, thinking perhaps she'd experienced similar sensations when
she'd had the Malfoy roses.

`You're safe from them Ginevra. They're buried with my mother.'

`I have to go.' Ginny looked up at him, her confusion still evident in her eyes, her hand
running through her hair. `I won't see you again, will I?'

He shook his head, his expression now serious. `No, I'm leaving England. You're safe
from the spectre of perhaps running into me somewhere, sometime.'

Ginny nodded, feeling a sudden, desperate need to get away from him. `Yes, all right - and,
well, thank you again.'

`Goodbye, Ginevra.'

`Goodbye, Draco.'

It was the last time he saw her, his name the last thing he ever heard her say…

TO BE CONTINUED…

Author's Note

There! And now I'm wondering what you think of that….

By the way - because of that damned little plot bunny forcing me to write “Caught Kissing”,
I'm behind on Chapter 20 (and also because time-consuming things like real life, socialising,
family and friends just insist on butting in on my writing time! lol!). Anyways, I'll be madly
working on the next chapter this week and will post it as soon as I can (at least there's no
cliffie for you to suffer over this time!)

Cheers! Janie xoxo

-->



21. Four Weddings & A Funeral - Chapter Twenty
----------------------------------------------



Author's Note

After all those cliffies and angst - time for some fun and love everyone! Enjoy…

FOUR WEDDINGS & A FUNERAL

By Lady Jane

Chapter Twenty

It was while Draco Malfoy and Albus Dumbledore were paying their last respects to Narcissa Black
Malfoy and, to a far lesser extent, Lucius Malfoy, that Neville Longbottom finished reading over
his report for the second time. After doing so, he once again shook his head in amazement as he
signed it and attached instructions for it to be copied and distributed, with the original marked
for archiving. He was still filled with a sense of awe at what had happened at Malfoy Manor. He
found he couldn't help but compare it with the night at the Leaky Cauldron when they'd set
a trap for the two Death Eaters in an attempt to find out Hermione's whereabouts after
she'd been kidnapped - it seemed a lifetime ago now; it was then that Harry had first
demonstrated a measure of his immense power. Neville sighed. *He'd grown up with Harry, slept
in the same dormitory for seven years, and yet - could he claim to know everything about the man
he'd become?* A smile curled the corners of his mouth. *He doubted anyone could claim to
know Harry that well; except perhaps Hermione…*

While Neville wrote out instructions for dealing with his report, the wizard at the centre of it
was home, at last, with the only thing in life that mattered to him: Hermione. They'd stayed at
the Burrow Saturday night, sleeping like the dead (as succinctly put by Charlie) thanks mainly to
more of Mrs Weasley's Sleeping Draught (for which no one condemned her). After spending the
whole of Sunday being (politely) interrogated by Neville and Dumbledore, they were too exhausted to
do anything but stay another night with their adopted family. This time they slept deeply without
the aid of any Sleeping Draught until finally, *finally,* on Monday morning they were able to
go home, to the blessed quiet of their flat in London.

They'd Flooed from the Burrow and stepped out of the fireplace into their living room,
brushing the light dusting of soot from their shoulders and arms, their eyes met and locked. They
both straightened, facing each other, their movements slowing until non-existent; they were
separated by no more than eighteen inches as they stood there, facing each other, both still
wearing the same jeans and tops - although since washed by Mrs Weasley, of course.

`It's over,' whispered Hermione, `it's really over.'

Harry nodded. He was so full of relief and jubilation, weariness and joy, he couldn't
speak.

He lifted his hand and laid it against Hermione's cheek, caressing it gently with his thumb.
Hermione let her head rest against his hand, closing her eyes and smiling as she brought her hand
up and wrapped it around his wrist, her fingers brushing lightly along his muscled forearm, sending
shivers through Harry.

Then she opened her eyes and looked at him. Harry hadn't taken his eyes off her and the
expression of profound love and intense desire in them took her breath away.

She whispered his name and before she knew it, his hands were gripping her shoulders as he
pulled her to him. Her arms stole slowly up and around his neck as he dropped his head, his arms
moving down and closing around the small of her back, burying his face in the wild tangle of her
loose, brown hair. Its familiar, sweet fragrance filling his mind as so many things from the past
week washed through him - pain and heartache, victory and exhaustion; but above all else, it
brought to his grateful mind the image of *this* woman, *his* woman - being safe, above
all else, being safe…

`Hermione…' he murmured, and just knowing he could say her name, that she was *here*
and would answer, made his heart swell with happiness and relief.

`Harry…' Hermione felt the same, although she'd never doubted that he'd survive. She
would never tell him that she'd had some moments of serious concern about her own survival -
Lucius Malfoy, up close and personal, had been icily terrifying in his psychotic glory. It was
clear he would've been prepared, with no remorse, to go to extraordinary lengths to torment his
captive victims. He'd been prepared to have them killed, too, without giving it a second
thought.

Then thoughts of Lucius Malfoy melted away as Harry's hands ran possessively from the small
of her back to grip the gentle curve of her waist, pulling her hard against him as he continued to
kiss her with unremitting passion, his tongue delving into the warm, wet softness of her mouth.
Hermione moaned softly as Harry's very prominent erection pressed against her stomach and she
instinctively moved her hips against the enticing hardness, suddenly feeling greedy for it -
wanting it inside her, where it belonged.

She moaned again, her tongue hungrily reciprocating the sensual movements of Harry's - the
sensations coursing through her making her desperate for *more*…

Then Harry's hands loosened their grip on Hermione's waist and moved to grasp the bottom
of her jumper, pulling it upwards.

Without a word, Hermione lifted her arms from Harry's neck, holding them up in the air to so
that he was able to pull it off over her head, tossing it carelessly aside after he'd done so.
Hermione let her head drop back, her hair cascading down her back as she reached around to undo her
pale blue bra, enjoying the way Harry was greedily devouring the sight of her. Once her bra had
joined her jumper, she reached up and slowly removed Harry's glasses, smiling seductively at
him as she did so.

`You certainly won't be needing these,' she told him in a throaty whisper as she dropped
them onto the nearby couch before wrapping her arms around his shoulders. Harry's hands moved
irresistibly to cup her breasts, watching, mesmerised by the sight of his own thumbs grazing over
Hermione's stiff nipples, all the while drinking in the small, soft, seductive sounds she was
making. As he lifted his eyes to her face, he felt a jolt, like an electric shock:, to see she was
looking at him, her dark honey coloured eyes filled not only with burning desire but avid lust and,
when he thought it wouldn't be possible, he felt himself grow even harder.

Hermione reached down for the hem of his jumper and tilted her head expectantly at him, a rather
suggestively sexy smile playing about her mouth. Harry obediently lifted his arms, assisting
Hermione to remove his jumper since she couldn't reach as high as his arms extended. As it fell
to the floor beside them, Hermione wrapped her arms around his waist. Harry's sharp intake of
breath told her that the feel of her breasts against his bare chest was making serious inroads into
his self control.

`Hermione!' his voice contained a desperate plea, both his hands lost in her dishevelled
curls as he moved to kiss her again.

Hermione turned her head slightly, keeping her mouth just out of reach of Harry's - his
mouth was a mere inch from hers.

`What is it, Harry?' she asked, a deliberately innocent note in her voice.

`I want you,' he rasped, `please, I'm aching for you Hermione…'

Those words, spoken in that voice, were her undoing. She closed the small space between their
lips, kissing him hungrily, her lips slightly parted allowing him instant access - their tongues
writhing together in mutual passion.

Then she suddenly found herself drowning in his burning green gaze, mourning the end of the
kiss. Before she could speak, and without losing eye contact, Harry bent and scooped her up,
Hermione's arms quickly wrapping around his neck.

For a moment, Harry stood there, holding her. Hermione felt heat suffuse her whole body - a
result of the effect of being held like this and the intense emotion in Harry's eyes, his face
mere inches from her own.

`What is it?' whispered Hermione.

`Does this remind you of that first time?'

Hermione's thoughts flew back to that first time they'd made love. On that night, too,
Harry had carried her to bed. She smiled at him, her eyes glowing.

`How could I forget?' she murmured.

`True,' replied Harry with a smirk, making Hermione giggle.

Then his gaze became serious once more. `Tonight, it's my turn to savour this moment - the
way you're looking at me and the way I feel. The anticipation for what we're about to
do…'

`Not to mention the strain and pain involved in *waiting* for what we're about to
do,' said Hermione saucily, her eyes filled with loving amusement.

Harry laughed, exulting in the moment - in being *here, now,* with Hermione - *his*
Hermione!

`Not that you'd know about that!' he told her, rolling his eyes.

Hermione gave a low, husky chuckle. `I just enjoy *your* strain and pain, my
oh-so-sexy-saviour!'

`Enough talking!' cried Harry dramatically, Hermione smiling in his arms as he marched
purposefully out of the room, along the hall and into their bedroom, `Time for action, my lusty
wench!'

`What did you call me?!' exclaimed Hermione, giggling as Harry leant over their bed,
releasing her from his grasp; Hermione put her hands behind her head, feeling rather wanton as she
lay there topless, her jeans still on. She kicked off her shoes, her eyes roaming over Harry as he
stood beside the bed, undoing his jeans.

In that small space of time all hilarity fled. Harry kicked off his trainers before pushing his
jeans and boxers down, bending over to pull them off. Hermione's eyes roamed greedily over his
whole body as he did so then, as he stood, divested of all his clothing, running his hands through
his untidy locks, Hermione thought perhaps she knew what was meant by “swooning” - because she was
pretty damn sure that was a good description of what she was about to do. And that was before Harry
knelt down beside the bed.

With his eyes glued to Hermione's face and while she was hypnotised by the sight of his
hands, Harry began undoing the zipper of her jeans, pulling them down and off, flinging them aside,
leaving her clad only in her knickers. When Harry hands then remained stationary, resting on the
edge of the bed, Hermione's gaze slowly shifted from Harry's hands to his face, finding his
green gaze fixed on her. Once her eyes met his, his hands moved again - coming to rest, one
covering her belly button, the other on the curve of her thigh. Hermione shivered delicately as
Harry's skin came into contact with hers.

Then Harry moved his hands again, deliberately brushing his fingertips teasingly over
Hermione's skin, hearing her sharp intake of breath as he did so, a small, satisfied smile
curving his mouth. Then he placed both his thumbs in the band of Hermione's knickers, his eyes
boring into hers as he slowly, oh-so-slowly, pulled them down over her long, lean legs

With a nonchalant wave of his hand, Harry reduced the light in the room to a soft, warm glow and
then focused entirely on Hermione, lying supine on the bed, rejoicing in the moment because it
meant they were alive and well and together*.*

`You look breathtaking,' he whispered, his left hand pushing loose strands of hair away from
her forehead, the fingers of his right hand tantalisingly trailing up from her ankle along the
length of her leg, Hermione's hips arched in response as Harry's fingers skimmed her hip,
following the curve of her waist and coming to rest around her breast, gently kneading.

`Harry…'

Harry dropped his head, trailing his tongue quickly up the underside of Hermione's breast
before taking her hard, sensitive nipple into his mouth, his skilful suckling eliciting a very
gratifying response - he loved the soft, delicious sounds Hermione was making; Harry could feel the
increasingly agitated movements of Hermione's body and found himself rapidly reaching the
limits of his own self-restraint.

`Harry - *please!*'

The sound of his name, spoken with such forceful pleading and so full of longing, was enough to
tear away the last of Harry's self-control. He pushed up off his knees and climbed on to the
bed, Hermione parting her legs so that he could kneel between them, his hands caressing the firm
lines of her thighs. Hermione's eyes were luminous as they travelled from Harry's straining
erection, over the taut muscles of his stomach and chest until she reached his face and locked
gazes with him, her arms still clasped above her head, her pale skin glowing in the soft light.

`Hermione…' his own voice, deep and hoarse with the overpowering desire that possessed him
seemed to inflame Hermione further because she suddenly lifted her legs, wrapping them around Harry
and pulling him towards her. Harry moved swiftly so that he was supporting his weight on his
elbows. Without breaking eye contact, Hermione placed one hand on the side of Harry's face, the
fingers of the other tracing the strong line of his jaw, her fingertips brushing across his lips as
she whispered, `I love you.'

Harry immediately closed his mouth over hers, a groan reverberating deeply in his chest.
Hermione wrapped her arms around him, urging him with the movements of her hips, desperately
wanting him inside her - and then he was. Their lips broke apart so they could restore air to their
lungs, both overwhelmed by the thrilling sensations bombarding them.

As he sank into her tight, warm depths, Hermione cried out his name, the strength of her orgasm
fuelled by the intensity of the emotions involved in this particular union - it was a celebration
of themselves and their love - and of their victory over adversity, defying anyone to ever again
try and part them or hurt them.

As Hermione's body was seized by waves of ecstasy, Harry also lost himself in the exquisite
pleasure that tore through him. As the blissful rapture slowly, inevitably receded, they found
themselves laying on their sides, smiling each other, Harry's arm supporting Hermione, his
other resting on the curve of her waist; Hermione's legs were entwined with Harry's, one
between his, the other still curled over the top.

`I love you very much, my Hermione,' said Harry softly as he leaned forward and kissed the
tip of her nose.

Hermione, one hand nestled between their bodies, the other curled around Harry's neck,
fingering the soft, black strands of his hair, smiled rapturously at him.

`That's all I need to be happy,' she told him, her eyes glistening.

`And you're all I need.'

*

Ginny and Dean remained at the Burrow a few days longer. Ginny was doing extremely well, mainly
due to the fact that she was now was free of the fear of any future threat from Lucius, Draco or
the cursed Malfoy roses. On Dean's insistence, she did have a visit from a mediwizard who
specialised in healing the “damage from unpleasant events” as he so succinctly put it. He helped a
lot; Ginny was even able to tell him about her visit to Draco in the graveyard which he understood
completely and was with her when she told Dean, because she refused to keep anything from him. The
mediwizard applauded her decision to do so and Dean, no doubt helped by the knowledge that Draco
Malfoy had left England for good (confirmed by Professor Dumbledore who had seen him off), was able
to accept that he and Ginny would go forward from this point, free of Malfoy's presence or even
the threat of it. They literally had their whole lives in front of them.

Despite the fact that they were now more than ready to return to their own flat, Molly was sad
to see them leave as she enjoyed their company immensely and it had made her more than a little
happy to have someone to look after and fuss over besides just Arthur.

Neville was kept particularly busy right up until Christmas writing his second report on the
whole incident. His boss had insisted on a detailed record of who had done what, when they'd
done it, and why, not just what had occurred at Malfoy Manor.

It did take some time, but Neville finally got to the bottom of the whole thing. His
investigation was made much easier by Lucius Malfoy's death as once he died, the Imperius
Curses he'd placed on a number of people vanished, leaving them a little confused and
bewildered, but able to supply a lot of information. Chief amongst these had been some of
Neville's own colleagues from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement: David Sunningfield,
Wayne Hasluck and Lila Caplo.

It was during this investigation that he finally discovered the reason the Cautus Contego Charm
had been activated at Dean and Ginny's engagement party: Lila Caplo. As it turned out, Lila had
been the first victim of the Imperius Curse once she'd taken up her position at the Ministry.
On the night of Dean and Ginny's engagement party, Lila had slipped away unnoticed, ordered to
do so by Lucius Malfoy so that he himself, using Polyjuice Potion to appear as Lila, could attend
the party for a short while to gather information. When his presence had activated what he later
found out to be a specific protector charm, placed on Hermione by Harry and the Professor, he
wondered why Lila's presence hadn't done the same since her presence, as his minion, would
surely mean she represented danger to Hermione. It was that particular incident that started him
investigating the relationship between the Imperius Curse and the Cautus Contego Charm, eventually
leading him to the discovery that anyone, even a Death Eater, under the influence of the Imperius
Curse, would not activate it.

When Lila had later chosen Lucky over Sunny, although she hadn't been told specifically
which of them to choose, she'd sealed his fate as Malfoy, after putting Lucky under the
Imperius Curse, then used him to perform various tasks. When Lila had burst into Amelia Bones'
office nearly two months earlier to dramatically announce Jugson's escape, she had actually
been the one who had aided that escape under Malfoy's orders.

Now at last they could put it all behind them. They no longer needed to worry about anyone being
under the Imperius Curse or of being afraid that someone they knew was actually someone they
*didn't* know using Polyjuice Potion.

Priscilla had been assured over and over by each of them and even more so by Neville that
she'd not been in any way responsible for her part in helping Malfoy to kidnap Ginny. At one of
the friends' impromptu gatherings, she and Neville let everyone know that they planned on being
married in a small, quiet ceremony, on Priscilla's birthday, the fifth of January.

The last few weeks leading up to Christmas passed in a bit of a haze for most of them. Everyone
had been invited to the Burrow for lunch on the Sunday before Christmas Day and they were all able
to come.

Molly spent the days before the weekend in a state of happy, organised chaos; Arthur was kept
busy once more enlarging their modest home to accommodate all the guests, most of whom were staying
the night before, Charlie, Bill and Fleur being the only ones who weren't able to come until
Sunday. After quite a lot of swishing and flicking, Arthur stood back to survey his handiwork,
mentally going through the list of people needing rooms.

*Molly and I, Ron and Luna, Fred and George, Ginny and Dean, Hermione and Priscilla, Neville
and Harry. Six…now how many have we got? Hmmm... yes, six! And three bathrooms, just in case… By
Merlin's beard - I'll be conjuring up Buckingham Palace by the time Charlie, Fred and
George get married and they all start having children!*

At least this time he didn't have to worry about de-gnoming the garden, although he had to
work on the living room and kitchen downstairs so that they could all eat inside given the season.
*But not before he had* *a* *nice, hot cuppa*. *This was hard work…*

*

Harry and Hermione had arranged to meet Ron and Luna, Ginny and Dean, and Neville and Priscilla
at the Burning Broomstick for tea before going to the Burrow on Saturday evening. They were first
to arrive and sat talking at their table while they waited for everyone else. Hermione was sitting
on Harry's left and he had his arm resting across the back of her chair, leaning towards her,
listening as she spoke, smiling as he thought of how wonderful it was that their lives had begun to
return to “normal”.

Neville had managed to keep the information given to the Daily Prophet to an absolute minimum,
telling them simply that Lucius Malfoy and two of his offsiders had died in an accident that had
also razed Malfoy Manor to the ground. In a ghastly coincidence, his wife, Narcissa Black Malfoy,
had died the following day of a longstanding illness and their son, Draco Malfoy, had moved out of
the country. No mention whatsoever was made of Harry's, or anyone else's, involvement.
Harry was eternally grateful to Neville for this, dreading publicity as he'd always done.

When Neville and Priscilla arrived next, Harry once again shook Neville's hand and thanked
him.

`Harry, enough already! It is we who owe *you* a world of thanks! No more thanking,
agreed?' Priscilla sat down next to Hermione, the girls hugging each other in greeting. Neville
sat down next to Harry after getting himself and Priscilla a drink. Hermione and Priscilla were
chatting excitedly about Priscilla and Neville's wedding, now only a week away.

Ron and Luna were next to arrive, Luna joining Hermione and Priscilla in “wedding talk” as Ron
put it. It was only when Ginny and Dean showed up that everyone moved so that they were sitting
with their partners and the conversation became more general. Hermione commented to Harry on how
well and happy Ginny was looking and how relaxed Priscilla was. Their orders were soon taken, after
which Neville stood up, making a show of gaining everyone's attention, drawing laughter from
them all.

`Since this is our first *normal* gathering since, well, since Harry did that little saving
thing of his again,' (more laughter), `I just wanted to say how happy I am you are all here,
safe and well. And thanks, Harry. Here's to truth, justice and the Wizarding way - *and*
Harry Potter!'

`I thought you said no more thanking!' cried Harry, shaking his head as everyone toasted
him, but laughing at Neville nonetheless. Amongst his friends, at least, he felt completely
comfortable.

`No more from this moment on,' agreed Neville with a sheepish grin.

The noise and laughter had drawn a few glances of recognition from other patrons who smiled
indulgently at the happy group.

Shortly after they'd eaten, they all Flooed to the Burrow from the pub, emerging from the
fireplace to find the usually small kitchen and living room was now large enough to hold them all
comfortably. Charlie, Bill, Fleur and the twins were already there enjoying some hot chocolate.

`Would you look at that, mate?' sighed Ron as he sat down at the table; Luna, Hermione,
Ginny and Priscilla all gravitated towards Fleur, seated in the living room, who was now actually
*looking* slightly pregnant. Bill was by her side, hovering protectively. Charlie and the
twins were sitting at the table with their half drunken mugs of chocolate.

Harry shrugged, grinning at his friend. `If all goes well, that'll be you and me some
day.'

Ron blanched for a second then smiled. `Yeah, true.' He stole a glance at Luna, a rather
misty look entering his eyes.

Neville joined them, setting down four mugs of hot chocolate, one each for himself, Dean, Harry
and Ron.

Dean, sitting across from them, nodded at Harry.

`Absolutely, mate. I can't wait, actually.'

`Can't wait for what?' asked Ginny who'd been heading back to the kitchen with some
empty mugs.

Dean quickly drew his wand and sent the mugs off to the sink alone, his free arm snagging Ginny
around the waist, drawing her to him. Ginny's arms automatically closed around Dean's neck
as she bent down to kiss the top of his head, thanking him with a giggle.

`Can't wait till bedtime,' growled Dean playfully.

Ginny laughed, then kissed him again, this time on the mount. `You never can, Dean
Thomas!'

`I never hear *you* complaining, Ginny Thomas!'

Ron rolled his eyes making Harry and Neville laugh; Ron *still* occasionally regressed to
thinking of Ginny as his “untouchable little sister”.

Shortly after, yawns began spreading amongst them all at a rapid pace. Bill and Fleur were the
first to retire, followed quickly by Molly and Arthur.

A few minutes later, Fred and George followed Dean and Ginny up the stairs, Ron and Luna on
their heels.

Harry, Hermione, Priscilla and Neville moved to the couches in front of the fireplace, each
couple curling up together at opposite ends of the large, old couch. Neville remarked on the fact
that the last ones up were the ones *not* sharing a room.

Harry and Hermione exchanged a quick smile then Hermione winked at Harry. Harry rolled his eyes;
he knew Hermione thought *he* should offer to swap rooms, as Neville was a little uncertain of
doing so. Harry watched as the expression on Hermione's face altered subtly, her smile becoming
distinctly seductive, her eyes darkening with that look he knew and loved so well - the look that
said she *wanted* him. Harry shifted in his seat, his jeans becoming uncomfortably tight as
thoughts he couldn't prevent forming began playing havoc with his - um -
*self-control*.

Hermione smiled knowingly, just as Harry spoke, his voice quite a bit lower than usual…

`Um, Neville? Why don't you and Priscilla take my room and I'll go in with
Hermione?'

Priscilla blushed, but didn't look as though she was about to object.

`Mrs Weasley won't mind?' asked Neville a little nervously.

`What she doesn't know, won't hurt her,' said Hermione firmly, a twinkle in her eye
at the surprised expressions on the three faces staring at her. `It's true, isn't it?'
she asked. `Besides, we're all of age and we're engaged to be married.'

`I'm not about to argue!' laughed Harry.

Later, alone in bed, Harry asked her when she'd become so avant-garde, especially in respect
of Mrs Weasley.

`Since it means I get to sleep with *you**,* Harry James Potter,' she'd said
huskily.

And he definitely wasn't going to argue about *that*.

*

The next morning Molly was in her element; she cooked breakfast for everyone, fussing happily
over Fleur who so far had suffered none of the usual symptoms of early pregnancy.

`It eez wonderful!' she sighed, as she tucked into her scrambled eggs. `I 'ave not been
ill one morning!'

`I hope I'm the same,' said Ginny hopefully.

The night before, all the girls had, of course, been discussing babies - from pregnancy
onwards.

`My mum said she was disgustingly healthy while she was pregnant with me,' said Luna, `so I
hope I take after her.'

Dean leant towards Ginny, sitting beside him, and kissed her on the temple. `If you're at
all sick, I will look after you, twenty four hours a day if necessary, never fear!' he said
grandly.

Ginny laughed. `I'll hold you to that, my darling husband!'

Luna looked expectantly at Ron who was oblivious to everything and everyone around him as he was
busy eating a record number of fried eggs and rashers of bacon. When an amused, expectant silence
fell over the table, Ron finally noticed, also realising that all eyes were trained on him. He
looked from one to the other, puzzled.

`What?' he said, around the bite of toast he'd just taken.

Everyone burst out laughing at the same time, Ron rolling his eyes before going back to his
breakfast.

`Fred and George making fun of me again I suppose,' he muttered to Luna, frowning across the
table at his twin brothers.

Luna smiled happily up at her husband. `Ronald, I wouldn't exchange you for all the
Crumple-Horned Snorkacks in the world!'

Once breakfast was over and the kitchen clean once more, Molly shooed them all out so that she
could start on lunch.

Everyone rugged up warmly against the cold, Bill and Fleur choosing to go for a leisurely
stroll. Charlie said he had to make a quick visit back to his dragon stables but would return in
time for lunch, Fred and George saying they'd go with him.

`No leaving any of those bloody concoctions of yours around, then!' Charlie warned them
firmly, receiving innocently injured looks in return.

The rest of them decided to go for a skate on the small lake. Harry had to use a little magic as
he'd never had the opportunity to learn to skate growing up with the Dursleys. Not that Dudley
ever learnt either, for obvious reasons. `Imagine Dudders on ice!' laughed Harry as he and
Hermione skated side by side, their arms around each other.

Priscilla was quite adept, but Neville seemed to find his childhood clumsiness again which
didn't seem to respond to magic. The only consolation, he told Priscilla, was that he got to
hold on to her so tightly to make sure he didn't fall.

Ron and Luna made a wonderful sight - they were both quite good and were skating in amongst
everyone else, their cheeks glowing with the exertion.

It was Dean and Ginny, however, who *really* stood out. They were practically
*dancing* and received a number of envious glances from their companions.

`I'll be damned,' said Harry as he watched them. `Dean was complaining about Seamus'
dancing ability and would you just look at him!'

`Put skates on Seamus and I wouldn't be surprised if he ended up on his bum, quick
smart!' remarked Hermione. `Speaking of Seamus,' she continued, `he went back to Ireland,
didn't he?'

`If he knows what's good for him,' growled Harry.

Hermione swiped him playfully on the stomach as she laughed up at him. `Oh, Harry! You're
not serious!'

`Not entirely,' answered Harry, giving her a look that made her heart skip a beat. Then he
unexpectedly dropped his head and kissed her. He had his arm around her shoulders and gently pulled
her around to face him as he did so, his tongue insistently seeking and being given entrance to her
willing mouth. It was a forceful, demanding and very passionate kiss and Hermione felt her legs
weaken as the heat of desire invaded every part of her body; she had to cling to Harry's waist
with both arms to support herself.

When Harry ended the kiss, their combined breaths forming rapid, small puffs of fog between
their mouths, Hermione thought she could stay like this forever, looking into the incredible green
eyes of the man she loved, his breath warming her face, her lips still tingling from his touch.

`Oy! For Merlin's sake, you two! You'll melt a bloody hole in the ice, d'ya
mind?!'

General laughter greeted Ron's remark in which Harry and Hermione joined.

Just then, Arthur appeared on top of the small rise beside the lake and waved his arms, his
voice carrying on the still cold air, telling them lunch was nearly ready.

*

It was after they'd all eaten their fill - well, all except Ron perhaps, who was eyeing the
last piece of treacle tart as though it might vanish before he could eat it.

`Don't even think about it, Ronald Weasley,' admonished his mother, sweeping the pie
dish from under his nose. `It's going home with Harry; it's his favourite.'

`Oh, *Harry* gets left overs! What do I get? Your own son!'

Everyone laughed once more, including Molly.

Charlie suddenly got to his feet and picked up his goblet of wine, holding it aloft.

`Here's to laughter, everyone! It's come back to us once more and I hope it never leaves
us again!'

`Hear, hear!' chorused everyone.

`Good toast, Charlie,' said Arthur, smiling at his son warmly.

Harry stood then, holding his nearly empty goblet of wine, his other hand holding
Hermione's; she was smiling up at him, her eyes glowing with love.

Everyone immediately looked at him expectantly, thinking he, too, had a toast for them.

Molly, who had started orchestrating the return of dirty dishes and plates to the sink, stopped
mid-chore and sat down again.

When he had everyone's attention, Harry spoke.

`I have to say that I applaud your toast, Charlie,' and he lifted his glass while looking at
Charlie. `It's very true and I'm never going to stop being grateful for it. Hermione and I
just wanted to tell you this all together - you who are our friends and my family. We've been
to see Hermione's parents earlier this week and so…not too long after our favourite Longbottom
makes the lovely, wonderful Priscilla his wife, Hermione will literally make me the happiest man
alive and become my wife. And so you are all invited to our wedding which is happening in a little
over seven weeks' time - on Valentine's Day.'

A cheer erupted around the table, Arthur hurrying to get some more wine to celebrate this
wonderful announcement. Molly immediately jumped up, deciding on the spot that they'd all have
to stay for tea now and with a light heart and happy step, went to work once more, her eyes
definitely a little *moist…*

Harry told Hermione he would go and fetch her parents, knowing they would want to be in on this
celebration. Hermione's eyes filled with tears; Harry seemed to always know the right thing to
do without her even asking…

Harry returned, followed immediately by Hermione's parents who both looked happily flustered
as they stepped out of the fireplace. Hermione couldn't help herself: she squealed with
excitement and delight and ran to her mum and dad, hugging them tightly.

Further arrivals, not ten minutes later, added to Harry's happiness; Albus Dumbledore,
Professor McGonagall, Hagrid and Madame Maxine joined them. Harry, wanting the rest of his “family”
to know, had taken a quick side trip to Hogwarts.

`What about Remus and Tonks?' asked the Headmaster.

`Do you know where they are?' asked Harry.

Professor Dumbledore nodded and smiling, told him they'd be arriving shortly.

Which they did. Along with Mad Eye Moody and Mrs Figg.

`As if we'd miss this!' exclaimed Mad Eye.

And while Molly Weasley had one of the most exhausting nights of her life, it was also one of
the happiest. The only people happier than Molly were Harry and Hermione.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Author's Note

There, wasn't that nice? *Janie smiles* Only one chapter to go…

-->



22. Four Weddings & A Funeral - Chapter 21
------------------------------------------



Author's Note

Yes - the last chapter - finally! Just one thing - the song I use in this chapter is called “It
Is You (I Have Loved)”, words and music by Dana Glover, sung by Dana Glover. I originally heard it
on the soundtrack from Shrek (yes, believe it or not!) and not only did I fall in love with it, it
immediately reminded me of our beloved Harry and Hermione. (I have fudged just one or two of the
words - nothing major - call it artistic license if you will…) So, if you know this song or have
this song, think of it or play it while you read - if not, go find it (not that I'm suggesting
anyone should download an illegal MP3 or anything…*cough*) because it's just perfect for a
particular part of this chapter.

And once more my thanks to the lovely, wonderful, eagle-eyed Kirsti! *kisses and hugs dear!*
Without her, you wouldn't be reading this now (that “Special Delivery” made all the difference
KCQ!).

Cheers, everyone, and I truly hope you all enjoy the last chapter of…

FOUR WEDDINGS & A FUNERAL

By JanieB

Chapter 21

`I now pronounce you husband and wife!'

Harry and Hermione, as Best Man and Maid of Honour, led the cheering as Neville kissed his
beautiful bride, after which the newlyweds both turned to thank Professor Dumbledore for presiding
over their wedding ceremony.

`Always at the disposal of my former students,' he told them happily. `And now I think I
need a little of that excellent firewhiskey to calm me down,' and so saying, he strode off in
the direction of the bar that had been set up at the side of the room, manned by a smiling
Hagrid.

Priscilla's Uncle Wayman, her mother's brother, had offered to host the wedding as he
had a large, rambling country house south of London with a garden to match which was currently
glistening with fresh snow in the afternoon sun.

Priscilla's mum had worked painstakingly to decorate the large, old dining hall and had been
grateful for the help of not only Ginny and Hermione, but Molly Weasley as well, who had been
delighted to lend a hand.

They'd managed to turn one end of the room into a beautiful arbour - rather reminiscent,
Hermione thought, of Firenze's classroom at Hogwarts. Along one side of the long room were a
series of tables groaning with food and drink (`Better to have too much than not enough,' Molly
had told her) - along the other, chairs and couches for the guests' use. It was only a small
wedding and aside from her mother and Uncle Wayman, with his wife, Tillie and their two children,
she had no other family as her father had been an only child and his parents too, were dead.

The Weasley family, all of whom attended did, however, manage to swell the numbers so that it
was indeed a very merry occasion. Even Neville's formidable grandmother was seen smiling
indulgently in the direction of her grandson on more than one occasion; his Great Uncle Algie and
Great Aunt Enid could be heard telling anyone who listened how marvellous he was.

As the sun set, throwing fantastic shadows and colours across the fields of snow, Neville and
Priscilla departed, leaving their guests to happily mingle for another hour or two before departing
themselves.

Late that night, Harry and Hermione were cuddled up in their bed, talking about the day and
laughing at the numerous funny little things that had happened - their favourite being Fred and
George's impromptu reprise of the “boggart class” - the year that Remus had taught DADA at
Hogwarts and Neville had faced his boggart: Professor Snape; Fred played Neville, George was Snape.
Of course, the twins had only heard the story second hand and embellished it beyond belief, but it
had nevertheless been brilliantly funny and hilarious.

They then turned to happily discussing their own wedding plans, which they discussed with no one
else as they wanted to surprise their families and friends. Harry had been adamant - no invitation
would be issued to the Dursleys but Hermione persuaded him otherwise. `I'm sure your mum would
want you to at least *ask* them,' she told them. `Besides, I think the chance of them
accepting an invitation to a wizard wedding is less than zero so you don't have to worry about
them actually turning up.'

The day of Neville and Priscilla's wedding was a memorable one for Ginny and Dean too,
although not for any reason they would've liked. They had arrived home to find a small,
frightened house-elf cowering in the corner of the living room to the left of the fireplace,
noticing him because he'd squealed in terror when they'd appeared.

Ginny, too, had screamed on seeing him, the poor creature desperately trying to hide behind its
hands.

`What the hell is *this?!*' cried Dean, striding towards the shivering elf.

`Dean, wait! It's Latro!' Ginny recognised the tormented house elf she'd come to
know during her time as a prisoner at Malfoy Mansion.

On hearing his name, the house-elf peeked out from behind his fingers.

Kneeling down in front of him, Ginny spoke gently to the terrified creature.

`Latro, what are you doing here?'

`M-m-master t-t-told m-m-me - he ordered m-me t-t-to c-come t-to you, t-to d-d-do your
b-bidding, always.'

`What?' said Ginny and Dean together, Ginny glanced up at Dean who was bent over her, his
hands on his knees. She was horrified to hear what Latro said next as the petrified little creature
did his best to stand up straight as he spoke.

`I - I'm Latro, your house-elf.'

********** ******************** ******************** **********

`What the hell was Malfoy thinking giving his house-elf to Ginny!' Hermione was infuriated.
Despite all her best efforts over the years, house-elves had, for the most part, remained happily
working for their owners. `Who does he think he is, passing around another being like a - a
*package!*' she cried

`Calm down, *please* Hermione! It's not Ginny's fault and it's all been sorted
out now!' Harry hated seeing her so upset.

Hermione took a deep breath; she and Harry were sitting at their kitchen table having lunch.
Ginny had contacted both Hermione and Dumbledore first thing that morning, not knowing what to do
with her unexpected acquisition. It had been quite obvious of course, and no doubt Ginny
would've thought of it herself if she hadn't been so upset over the matter; Latro would go
to Hogwarts - Dobby, said Dumbledore, would love nothing more than taking him “under his wing”.

And so it was. Ginny, visibly shaken, ordered Latro to go with Professor Dumbledore and to
reside at Hogwarts. The sad little house-elf haltingly told her that he would be happy to stay with
her because he really liked her and had enjoyed looking after her at Malfoy Manor. She explained
that he was needed at Hogwarts; she didn't have the heart to tell him that if she allowed him
to stay with her, the sight of him would be a constant reminder of the horror of her time at Malfoy
Manor. She wondered what on earth Malfoy had been thinking when he'd done this.

She cried after he left with Dumbledore and Dobby who had come to get him - he'd looked so
dejected and had been crying pitifully as he stood between them before they'd been whisked away
by Portkey. She was thankful that Harry and Hermione's wedding was mere weeks away and that,
together with her work, helped to distract her.

Ginny, of course, was Hermione's Matron of Honour and Ron was Best Man; Luna and Priscilla,
with Dean and Neville, made up the rest of the bridal party. The only people who knew any details
of the wedding were Harry, Hermione and Hermione's parents - they wanted to surprise everyone
else. Ginny's boss, Ida Wordsmith, had dropped constant hints about an “exclusive” but Ginny
had said that perhaps *after* the wedding, she *m**ight* consider doing an article.
She insisted that because she was personally involved in the wedding it wouldn't be ethical for
her to report on it. And in any case, Harry and Hermione were *family* and she would protect
their privacy with everything she had.

The wizarding world was abuzz with rumours and speculation about the coming wedding - the
wedding of the century as it was being called. The Boy-Who-Lived - who had become The Chosen One
and finally, the victor in the long fight against the evil that had been Voldemort - was now a man
and was fulfilling his dream of having a blissfully “normal” life with the woman he loved. The
wizarding world wanted to celebrate with them and congratulate them. While Harry and Hermione could
understand this, it was, nevertheless *their* day, to be shared with their family and friends.
They had discussed this and after talking to Dumbledore, it had been agreed that in the July after
they returned from their honeymoon, during the holidays, Hogwarts would act as host for a reception
to which all wizards and witches were invited should they wish to come and see them. Dumbledore
advised that using the Quidditch Pitch, which he would magically extend to accommodate the crowds,
would be the most suitable. Each day, witches and wizards could fill the stands and be entertained
by various celebrities of the wizarding world (all eager to be part of this, to do it for nothing,
because it meant they would get to meet Harry first hand).

Harry and Hermione would then appear, flying around the crowd before landing in the centre where
a raised stage would be set up, to talk to the crowd for a short while before departing again. They
would stay at Hogwarts for the week.

Harry constantly assured Hermione he would fly slowly and told her she must know he would never
let any harm come to her.

`I know,' said Hermione, `but I'll *never* enjoy flying. And all this fuss - it
just seems so - so *ridiculous!* All this fuss and bother over you - over us!'

`To us, perhaps - but I suppose I feel that once we've done this, I'll be finished with
all of that. I want to put it all behind me and just live happily ever after. With you…'

Harry had pulled her to him and kissed her; they were alone in Dumbledore's office having
made the final arrangements for the “reception” in July.

`I hope we can - I'm not sure the wizarding world is going to be ready to just drop you
after all this time Harry.'

Harry and Hermione, while they both quailed at the thought of that week-long celebration and
knew it would be exhausting, preferred to do that so they could have the wedding day they
wanted.

And so they did.

Valentine's Day dawned and it was a perfect winter's day. The sky was free of clouds and
the sun sparkled on the snow, glinting off the frozen Black Lake at Hogwarts. For of course, Harry
was getting married at “home”: Hogwarts.

There were almost a hundred people gathered in the Great Hall. Those attending were all family
and friends and friends of family and family of friends - from the Weasleys (yes, even the
obnoxious Percy!), the Grangers, through to Neville's, Fleur's and Priscilla's
families; Dean's family came, too, as did Luna's dad. From various departments at the
Ministry there was Sunny who brought Gillian Wordsmith (she'd promised not to “leak” anything
to her mother, Ida, the Editor-in-Chief of “Witch Weekly”), Lucky with Lila Caplo and old Mr Pince,
his grandson Gaylord and his sister, Irma as well as all the Hogwarts' Professors. Yep, even
Professor Snape. Tom from the Leaky Cauldron and Mr Madomo from the Dragon's Lair were also
honoured to receive invitations.

Even Seamus came back from Ireland to attend, promising Harry he *wouldn't* dance with
Hermione. `Like hell I'd let him anyway,' Harry told Hermione gruffly later and when
Hermione chuckled knowingly and threw him a mischievous look, he couldn't resist pulling her to
him and kissing her. `You're mine,' he told her, using his deepest, sexiest voice, knowing
what it did to her before trailing teasing little kisses all around her mouth. Harry did know what
he was doing and Hermione melted against him, murmuring, `Always,' as their lips met once more,
all thoughts of any man other than Harry banished from her mind and heart.

The Great Hall had been transformed as never before. It was draped with the colours of
Gryffindor against the ceiling as a backdrop, showing the crisp, blue sky outside. The
teachers' table was still in place although barely recognisable draped in a shimmering gold
cloth and, courtesy of Professor Sprout, sporting a positive thicket of white flowers along its
length that resembled camellias, but which swayed slightly as though caught in a gentle zephyr,
their perfume definitely of magical origin.

In front of the table and covering the stairs in the centre was a round, shimmering golden rug.
It was just big enough to accommodate the bride and groom and Professor Dumbledore, who would
naturally be presiding over the ceremony.

Harry stood at the bottom of the steps to the teachers' dais, on the edge of the golden rug,
waiting nervously with Ron, Dean and Neville. Harry wore a black tuxedo with a deep green velvet
robe that swept the floor. His three groomsmen wore tuxedos the same green as his robe, their robes
being black.

Comfortable pews had been put in place while a special raised pew along the side wall held
Hedwig, Crookshanks, Pig, Errol and Trevor as well as all the Hogwarts' house-elves which were
there at Hermione's request; Dobby, of course, was their “leader” and looked inordinately proud
of himself, wearing his best thirty pairs of socks for the occasion. Latro was huddled up beside
Dobby who seemed to often make reassuring comments to his fellow elf.

Everyone had noticed and commented on Professor Dumbledore's magnificent phoenix, Fawkes,
who stood majestically on his perch at the top of the stairs, just behind and to one side of the
centre of the golden rug.

When Professor Dumbledore walked to the top of the steps, resplendent in his purple robes
shining with silver stars and moons and turned to face them, the crowd fell silent immediately.
They knew something was about to happen and a collective gasp rose in the air at the sound of the
huge old doors swinging open behind them. All heads turned to watch as the beautiful sound of
Fawkes' singing rang out, mesmerising everyone present.

Hermione's parents proceeded down the aisle, beaming happily at everyone. They'd readily
fallen in with the wizarding tradition whereby a daughter wasn't “given away” although Harry
and Hermione had foregone one tradition: the Aureus Lebes (or “golden bowl”) - neither of them was
comfortable accepting money when Harry had so much. Hermione had advised that if they wished, their
guests could make a donation to St Mungo's.

When they came abreast of Harry, Mrs Granger gave her imminent son-in-law a hug and kiss and Mr
Granger shook his hand, clapping him on the shoulder. Then they moved to stand in the front row so
that they could watch their daughter as she walked “up the aisle”.

As per Wizard tradition, there was no music during this time, Fawkes' magical tones fading
into silence. Ginny appeared first, dressed in a pale golden dress that fell from beneath a bodice
encrusted with tiny, shimmering, diamond-like jewels; the long sleeves were close fitting, the
neckline low and rounded. Ginny's golden red hair was piled on top of her head in soft curls,
more of the shimmering jewels scattered amongst them. She carried a heart shaped bouquet of the
same flowers that graced the gold-draped table at the other end of the room. Ginny held her head
high as she walked slowly down the aisle, her eyes seeking and find her husband's, the memory
of their own wedding day still fresh in her mind.

As Ginny reached the front, Priscilla appeared next, her beautiful black hair in the same style
as Ginny's, as was her dress and bouquet. She wore a bemused, but wondrous smile as she walked
slowly down the aisle, keeping her eyes on her new husband who was gazing at her adoringly from the
other end of the room.

Luna appeared in the doorway as Priscilla reached the front; her dressing matching that of the
other two, her blonde hair also glinting with shimmering jewels and she carried a matching bouquet.
As always, her expression was a little other-worldly, but her smile was genuinely happy as she too,
gazed down the length of the room at her husband.

Then Fawkes seemed to redouble his efforts and the sweetness of his song became almost
unbearable as Hermione appeared in the huge doorway. A hush fell over the Great Hall, which seemed
to intensify the power of the silvery, melodious Song of the Phoenix as it filled the air.

`Hermione!' Harry's awed whisper went unheeded by those near him as they stared,
enthralled.

She paused, standing there for a few seconds, her eyes locked onto Harry's, and then she
began her journey down the aisle towards her whole future with slow, stately steps, her head held
high, her face glowing with joy - her eyes not leaving those of the man she loved.

Harry wasn't sure if her gown was white or gold - it seemed to be white, but it shimmered
with the suggestion of the palest, golden aura at the slightest movement. Hermione's dress,
like her attendants', had long, fitted sleeves with a low rounded neckline although it differed
in that it was fitted over her whole upper body to just below her waist, where it was gathered and
flared softly, becoming fuller before brushing the floor, the hem encrusted with the same sparkling
jewels that adorned her bridesmaids' bodices. There was no train and Hermione carried no
flowers. Her hands were resting gracefully on the flared skirt of her gown. Her engagement ring -
the same ring James had put on Lily's finger - seemed to glow against the fabric of her gown.
Her hair was pulled up in the same style of massed curls as her bridesmaids, a cluster of tiny,
shimmering stars reminiscent of a tiara anchoring what appeared to be a veil of white-gold mist
that surrounded her head and dropped down her back to her waist.

As she drew closer, Harry held his hands out to her and she reached forward and took them. They
could see only each other. Moving forward a little more so that their bodies were almost touching,
Hermione whispered, `I love you.'

Harry brought his hand up to cup her face, his voice hoarse with emotion as he said, `Thank you.
Thank you for the priceless gift of your love. You know I love you, don't you? With my whole
being.'

`Thank *you*,' she whispered in return, tears glistening in her eyes as the last notes
of Fawkes' song lingered gently, then faded.

They turned as one, her right hand tightly clasped in his left, to face Albus Dumbledore whose
twinkling blue eyes had never held more joy than they did at this moment as he gazed down at them.
Raising his hands, he drew all eyes to him, his voice ringing out in this Hall that had seen and
held so much leading up to this moment.

`Beloved brethren, one and all...' he began, `we are gathered here, together, on this
memorable day, to celebrate life and love and the joining of these two people…'

And only twenty minutes later, having pronounced them “husband and wife”, Dumbledore led those
present in a long, thunderous bout of applause, interspersed with Fred and George's piercing
whistles and cheers from their fellow Gryffindors who were present. `Look!' said Fred to
George, elbowing him. `Even old Severus looks as though the smell under his nose has
improved!'

Colin Creevey had been speechless when asked to take the traditional wedding photograph and as
the bridal party arrayed themselves across the teachers' dais in front of Madame Sprout's
beautiful, magical blooms, he almost dropped his camera in his excitement. Hermione did ask him to
take one other photo - with all their closest friends included and everyone was happy to oblige.
Once that was taken care of, Professor Dumbledore asked everyone to move aside and he dismissed the
pews, conjuring up round tables, reminiscent of the Yule Ball in their fourth year, although now
clothed in gold, before asking everyone to be seated as the hedge of magical flowers moved itself
to the floor in front of the bridal table. The house-elves had all Disapparated back to the
kitchens with well-mannered, quiet “pops!” and celebrations began in earnest.

The feast that followed was the pride of the Hogwarts' house-elves. Hermione had only been
happy to agree to them working at this time because she'd insisted on paying them. At the
bridal table sat Harry, Hermione, their bridal party, Hermione's parents, Molly and Arthur
Weasley and Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall.

Hermione had also wanted to do the traditional Muggle bridal waltz and Harry had happily agreed,
as long as he could choose the music. So, shortly after everyone had finished eating (except for
Hagrid and Ron who were checking out the left overs before they disappeared courtesy of those
infernally efficient house-elves), the newlyweds moved to stand hand-in-hand facing their guests at
the bottom of the steps while Minerva McGonagall, still seated behind the bridal table, tapped on
her glass to gain everyone's attention. When she was sure she had it, she announced that Harry
and Hermione would lead the dance and everyone was free to join in. Taking Hermione into his arms,
Harry smiled down at her, another wave of happiness surging through him.

`This is not actually a waltz, my love, it's a slow dance which means even I will be able to
look as though I know what I'm doing.'

Hermione returned his smile. `Do I know the music?'

`You may. It's a song I heard it once, not long after I came to London, and it was the words
that caught my attention.'

And then the sound of a flute playing the first haunting notes of a beautiful melody drifted
through the air.

`It sounds beautiful,' whispered Hermione, looking into the wonderful green eyes she
loved.

Their gazes locked as Harry whispered in answer, `I thought of you when I first heard this -
this is for you.'

As they swayed gracefully around the floor, no one left their seat to disturb this special
moment and not a sound was heard besides the music and the poignant words that seemed to weave
their own spell in this most magical of places.

*There is something that I see
In the way you look at me
There's a smile, there's a truth in your eyes*

*What* *an unexpected way
On this unexpected day
Could it mean this is where I belong
It* *is you I have loved all along*

*There's* *no more mystery
It is finally clear to me
You're the home my heart searched for so long
And it is you I have loved all along*

*There were times I ran to hide
Afraid to show the other side
Alone in the night without you

But now I know just who you are
And I know you hold my heart
Finally this is where I belong* *And i**t is you I have loved all along
* *There**'s no more mystery
It is finally clear to me
You're the home my heart searched for so long
And it is you I have loved all along*

*- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -*

*Over an**d over
I'm filled with emotion**
Your love, it rushes through my veins

And I am filled
With the sweetest devotion
As I, I look into your perfect face*

*There**'s no more mystery
It is finally clear to me
You're the home my heart searched for so long
And it is you I have loved
It is you I* *have loved**
It is you I have loved all along**…*

As the last note faded, profound silence prevailed for a few moments; Hermione was surprised to
find that her cheeks were wet with tears as she smiled up at her husband. Harry gently wiped them
away with his thumbs before kissing her.

Then as the music started up again, this time a much more upbeat song, they found themselves
surrounded as everyone got up to dance.

Leaning down to whisper in her ear, Harry asked Hermione when she wanted to leave.

`Never and now,' she replied, laughing.

Harry joined in her laughter. `I know just what you mean, *Mrs Potter.*'

`I'm not surprised, *Mr Granger.*'

`Just call me “Harry”!' At which they both laughed again.

`Harry, kiss me?'

And Harry did. A kiss which left them both quite breathless and when it finally ended, they
continued their swaying dance, despite the faster music, their foreheads touching as they gazed at
each other.

`I think now is looking more attractive than never,' said Harry, his voice roughened with
desire.

`Far more,' replied Hermione, a thrill of anticipation shooting through her.

`We'd better start now - I think saying goodbye is going to take some time.'

Which it did. But finally they were standing, ready to leave. They'd made their speeches of
thanks and now stood within the traditional heart outline, at the top of the steps, to await their
Wedding Portkeys.

There was a slight difference - their “leaving” heart shape was made up of a mixture of
house-elves and pets! A beaming Dobby, flanked by a tremulously smiling Latro, a brave Winky and a
scowling Kreacher were standing with Hedwig and Crookshanks to make the heart shape. Then Pig flew
in to join them, just too excited by the whole day to be left out. Hedwig looked askance at the
little owl as it did its best to stay still, merely hopping from foot to foot; Hedwig was not
impressed but tried to hide it beneath a dignified stance given the gravity of the situation. Harry
and Hermione stood in the middle, their arms around each other, looking as though they couldn't
wait to be alone. Which, of course, they couldn't.

Mr and Mrs Granger stepped up, hugging them both in turn, Hermione and her mum exchanging
tearful but happy smiles, Mr Granger smiling and gruffly telling Harry that he'd better
continue to look after his daughter *or else!* Then they handed their daughter the traditional
Wedding Portkey, a symbol of love, a small golden heart.

Dumbledore, together with Molly and Arthur Weasley, stepped up together as Harry's
pseudo-parents and handed him a golden heart also. A fitting symbol Dumbledore told them as his
mother's love had kept him alive as a baby, the love of his friends had sustained him and his
own capacity for love had helped him defeat his enemy and now the love of his wife, and his for
her, would keep him until the day he died. A fitting symbol indeed. Harry dropped his head and they
kissed as the Portkeys took effect.

Shortly afterwards, Ron, Luna, Ginny, Dean, Neville, Priscilla, Fred and George were all sitting
around one of the tables with one last drink, happily reliving highlights of the day.

`Well, here at the end,' said Ron to them all as he stood up, holding his glass aloft, `a
toast! Here's to my best friend Harry, The-Boy-Who-Lived who grew into
The-Man-Who-Loves-And-Is-Loved-In-Return, and the beautiful, amazing Hermione, my other best
friend. And oh yeah, Harry's wife.' He grinned and winked at them all.

`Hear, hear!'

FINIS

Author's Note

I can't believe it's over! Thanks to each and every one of you who has been on this
“journey” with me from the first chapter of “Day by Day” to this last chapter of “Four Weddings
& A Funeral”. I hope you all have a very happy and safe Christmas - see you sometime in
2006!

Janie

xoxoxo

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