A/N: This chapter is just filler, and I hate it, hopefully, you won't… and won't be confused.
The problem, though I doubt you would care, lies in the fact that I'm currently also trying to write a novel and can't decide between two ideas I have, while writing Last of the House of Black and school work.
This is how people have nervous breakdowns. *sigh*
Disclaimer: Whatever.
*****
One Big, Happy Weasley Wedding
Harry had, in all earnestness, really planned to tell Ron and Hermione about the contents of Dumbledore's letter later. They were in this together, any information that affected their future had to be shared and discussed. Dumbledore had even suggested in the letter that he not go alone, and if his memories of the cave were accurate he really couldn't. But, as the ongoing story of Harry's life, he never really got the chance.
That first night at the Burrow was an immediate bust. No sooner than had they gotten up the stairs, on their way to Ron's room, than were they separated by Ginny's call for Hermione from Fleur's bedroom.
"Hermione! Hermione? Where are you? Come see the dress! I need some help!"
Hermione somewhat reluctantly detached herself from them and hurried on up to the room at the end of the hall. The door was wide open, and from it loudly came a mixture of voices, rapid French and English, some which was broken, and the curious scent of new cloth. Their loud excitement poured into the hall, and joined by Hermione's strange shriek of delight shortly after, it became louder still.
As Hermione disappeared through the door though, someone spotted Harry and Ron on the landing and Fleur called throatily, "'Arry is `ere? 'Arry, is that you? Come, come see my gown! It is lovely, no? Will Bill not love it?"
Hesitantly, he made his way to the room with Ron at his heels. As much as he really wanted to offer his opinion on Fleur's wedding gown, he wanted to see Ginny even less. Hearing her voice alone, so excited, but then tinged with a slight disdain, was more than enough for the night. He had not changed his mind of course, he wouldn't, he couldn't, but that didn't make anything about this any easier.
Finally, tired of his slow walk, Ron helped his advance with a small push so that he stumbled through the door. He came in behind him smiling somewhat goofily at Fleur, who stepped off an ottoman in the centre of the room before some rather large mirrors and immediately turned about for them to have a look.
"What do you think? Is it not beautiful?" she asked, smiling brightly at them. There was no trace of doubt on her face though, so that Harry knew that despite his opinion (which was rather favourable) she loved it anyway.
Her newly imported wedding gown was of white silk, strapless and form-fitting, with a fishtail-cut lace skirt and small train. Her long, silvery-white blonde hair cascaded her shoulders almost like her veil eventually would and her dark blue eyes sparkled with barely contained delight. The complete ensemble, in the sunlit backyard of the Burrow two weeks from then would no doubt be even more breath-taking.
For quite some time he was rendered speechless.
Actually, it was mostly that he did not know what she wanted him to say. She was looking at him expectantly though, and finally he managed, "It's nice, I'm sure he'll like it."
Her smile became a grin, and she turned to a woman behind her, undeniably her mother if he was remembering correctly, and said something happily in French. The equally blonde-haired and blue-eyed woman, who must have been stunning in her youth, gave a somewhat stiff smile, and then Harry found himself being dragged forward and introduced to her.
"'Arry, zis is my mother, Mama, zis is `Arry Potter. We all owe `im so much, is `e not as handsome as they say?"
Harry's face immediately reddened, but he eventually stammered, "Hi."
Her mother appraised him a while, before nodding slightly, and then directing her daughter back to the ottoman. Her introduction complete, her question answered, Fleur released him at once and did as commanded. Harry remained where she had dragged him, wondering slightly what had just happened.
Ron behind him, despite the goofy grin and glazed look, could barely contain his amusement. His laughter though, came rather jerky and foreign so that it was creepier than it should have been and Harry made a mental note to kick him later.
But he wasn't the only one laughing.
From a corner behind them he distinctly heard Hermione and Ginny, and someone else, and from the sound of it, they were having quite a lot of fun.
He was always glad to be their source of entertainment. Really, he was.
He turned to let them know it too, but was rendered speechless at the sight that greeted him.
Ginny was dressed in her golden bridesmaid gown, a miniature, empire-waist mimic of Fleur's, shoulder-length fiery red hair dancing with each shake of her head, bright brown eyes shining gently in the light and the moment their gazes met he felt a seizing in his chest that mingled with a rising guilt.
Determinedly he directed his attention to the girl beside her, also dressed in a bridesmaid gown, with a head of hair to match Fleur's but with wide, clear blue eyes and a vaguely familiar face. She blushed a deep magenta and then he remembered her, it was Gabrielle Delacour. But despite her blushing, she stared at him unflinchingly and he had an unsettling feeling that he knew why.
His eyes were finally drawn from her at the sight of Hermione, standing behind them with Fleur's veil in her hair. As soon as he looked to her she pulled it out and determinedly looked away. He smirked, out of the corner of her eye she caught it and delivered a dignified eye-roll in return.
Just then, Mrs Weasley walked in and found them. Immediately, and to Harry's secret relief, she sent them out again.
"What are you two doing in here? You have to put away your things-I hope your dress robes are clean, Harry-Ron, help him put his things in your room. You can have some porridge in the kitchen afterwards dear; we haven't had time to make a proper dinner tonight. Well, what are you waiting for, don't just stand there!" she commanded and hastily chased them into the hall.
They went quickly, though Ron had to be pushed, (much to Harry's pleasure) and by the time they got to his room-still brilliantly orange and yellow and alive with his fully animated Chudley Cannons posters and Pig zooming excitedly about the ceiling-the letter was long forgotten.
And since he didn't unpack, only to retrieve a packet of owl treats for Hedwig-who nipped affectionately at his fingers before going off to hunt-and a change of clothes for bed, it was easy to.
He remembered the next morning though, not that that changed anything.
As Ron had predicted, shortly after breakfast both Harry and Hermione were thoroughly drafted into the final plans for the wedding. There were flowers to arrange, late invitations to mail, decorations to make and put up, dress robes to pass her inspection failing which new ones had to be procured and a million other little things she came up with along the way.
They actually spent the entire of that day combining literal thousands of tiny gold bells to white gardenias, chrysanthemums and hyacinths.
More than that, Mrs Weasley was reminded by the Daily Prophet, in bold letters of their late evening escapade the day before: "Harry Potter takes Bus: Chosen One on the Offensive?"
Harry was quite sure that they had more important matters to discuss, such as the smaller headline stuck near the bottom that read: "Another Auror Goes Missing!" No doubt there that the Ministry was behind it, the details of his Knight Bus ride to Ottery St Catchpole were far less interesting to the loss of Cynthia Bramble-Hurst. Who cared if he and "his companions" huddled together, looking around them "suspiciously" while "conversing in low voices" with a "smelly old codger who remarkably resembled a dodgy, recently released 'graduate' of Azkaban prison"? Surely the "broad daylight" kidnapping deserved some merit of respect?
But of course not, whether he wanted them to or not they would find a way to use him.
As he read the headline at breakfast, after greeting Harry who he had only just seen since their arrival, Mr Weasley merely adjusted his wear-shorn glasses on his nose and said, "They could be a problem."
Harry tried not to start in surprise, but he couldn't help looking up at him. He knew that no one beyond him, Ron and Hermione had any idea of what they were planning but the statement so easily mirrored his thoughts that he was temporarily alarmed. Ron surreptitiously shook his head across the table, though he didn't really need to, and Harry returned to his breakfast as casually as he could.
Of course, when one is being stared at Gabrielle Delacour, who had made a point of inhabiting the seat beside him and smiling slightly every time he noticed her, "casual" was not easy to pull off.
It was then that he remembered the letter, safely tucked away in the pocket of his jeans upstairs. But he could go no further in thoughts on it for just then Mrs Weasley and Mrs Delacour arrived with the bells and flowers. And since three of the five (Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Gabrielle) could not use magic, the day was lost to the task.
Monday began rainy.
Harry awoke to the sound of the raindrops drumming a gentle lullaby against the roof and windows of the house. Ron was snoring loudly, Bill less so and with a noise now that strangely sounded like a growl. Harry could not bring himself to find it funny, it certainly wasn't, but in the still silent house it was one of the few things to listen to. He was sure he could hear a clock ticking somewhere though, and Crookshanks was scratching at something in the hall, while his own breathing came rhythmic and slow, audible to his own ears in his bunk against the wall.
It was so peaceful that it was only natural that he should go back to sleep. But then, it was so peaceful that it was also only natural that it should not last.
In what felt like only moments later, he was forcibly awoken by someone with a small voice saying repeatedly, "A letter for you `Arry, a letter…"
Alarmed, he started upright, only to find that his assailant was Gabrielle and the letter she was forcing into his hand had a Hogwarts seal. His alarm settled slightly, but not entirely and he rather self-consciously drew the covers closer over him. Ron and Hermione came up behind her, Hermione saying much like Mrs Weasley the year before, "You didn't have to bring it up for him; it would've still been there when he came down…."
Gabrielle ignored her, continuing to Harry, "Eet eez from your school-weel you dance weet me at zee wedding?"
Not entirely hearing what she had said he nodded absently, his attention solely with the letter she had just delivered.
Was the school reopening after all? Had they managed to convince the parents that it was safe to? How much harder was this going to make their plans?
But Gabrielle interrupted this, moments later as she suddenly stood, smiling brightly, leaned forward and kissed his cheek.
He looked at her surprised, but she merely gushed something in French and hurried from the room.
He turned back to Ron and Hermione for explanation but before they were able to, Mrs Weasley called from below, "Breakfast, you three, and hurry we have work to do!"
Ron groaned, "I can't wait for this to be over, I can't take much more… nothing but work and porridge for days now…."
Hermione ignored it, instead asking Harry, "They're just informing us that they're reopening the school…. Do you realise that you just agreed to be Gabrielle's date for the reception?"
"W-what, they are? Wait… when, did I agree to that?" he asked, ignoring the call too and discarding the letter.
"You didn't hear what she asked you? Oh… well, I'm sure you two will have fun, you'll look cute together," she replied, making no attempts to conceal a smirk.
"Ha-ha, cute will be watching Ron step all over your toes," he shot back.
"Hey, I'm not a bad dancer…" Ron protested without malice as Hermione blushed pink.
The humour Harry thought he would get though strangely did not completely materialise as he grinned at them. As a matter of fact he felt an odd, curious little twinge of discomfort looking at them-Ron, now also a little red in the face though sneering, Hermione determinedly ignoring him-that quickly dissipated when Ginny's head popped in the door.
He turned to her sharply a second, held a slightly guilty gaze for a few more and then looked away again, pretending to gather up his things as she said, "Didn't you lot hear Mum, it's breakfast-don't worry Ron, it's pancakes this time-and we've got work to do, I'm not doing everything by myself today…."
"You didn't yesterday," said Ron, annoyed.
"But I had to do over everything you did you prat, it sure felt like it," she declared.
Deciding to stop the pointless argument before it began, Harry stood quickly and said, "Let's go, Ron's beginning to get irritable, we've denied him food for too long."
Breakfast was indeed pancakes, and after breakfast with the rain still pouring Mrs Weasley indeed found work for them. This time it was their dress robe fittings, and they all had to take turns standing on an Ottoman in the middle of the living room while she inspected them.
Crookshanks spent much of the time chasing after Arnold, Ginny's miniature puffskein, while Harry found himself the unchallenged centre of Gabrielle's attention. He couldn't take back his word, he had promised, no matter that it was an unconscious effort, and she looked genuinely excited. But knowing that didn't make him feel any more thrilled with the situation. And not even when Ginny found out and gave him an encouraging smile either.
The next two days were exercises in monotony as they waited for the rain to stop falling and made more decorations in the living room. They did have an entire half-hour alone at one point, but Harry had long forgotten the letter. Instead the time was used to discuss the latest attack on the Muggles while he and Ron engaged in a very lively game of Wizard Chess.
Lively because he finally had a stroke of luck and nearly beat Ron.
Hermione actually put down the paper to watch, and Ginny and Gabrielle had to stop in as the noise they made overtook their game of Exploding Snap.
Thursday dawned bright as the sun finally broke the horizon the triumphant marshal of a clear sky. After days of rain anyone would have been happy to see it too, it meant that they were finally free to go outside. The Burrow was by no means stuffy, just a little cramped with the extra inhabitants and their things.
Ron immediately began plans for a Quidditch to celebrate… and then Mrs Weasley ordered them to de-gnome the garden to stop the destruction of the "stage" they were setting up for the wedding in the backyard.
The stage was actually a large rectangular platform, lined with eleven pillars-four at the corners, three at the back and four at the front-with a small circular stage at the north-central position. They were to drape these pillars with cloth, flowers and bells, and on the night of the wedding there would be fairy lights, a few in large balls that would hang from the ceiling, or float casually about the backyard while guests danced. Completed it would surely, like the bride, be very beautiful, but until that time each saw it as just another chore to steal their summer freedom.
That day went the way of the others, and the next they spent putting up the decorations they had made and spreading a large white canopy over it.
Saturday brought the twins, and with them Charlie, Tonks and Lupin once more.
As they were now temporary roommates, he would meet Charlie first. The second son of Arthur and Molly Weasley, Charlie was stockier than his brothers, but had the family's trademark red hair and a snore that sounded through the room almost as loud as Ron's. He had probably arrived after they went to bed, but it was a wonder he hadn't woken the rest of them.
Or maybe he had, for when Harry awoke Ron was already gone down to breakfast. But then again, this was Ron; he probably sniffed breakfast in his sleep.
Leaving Charlie to his rest then, Harry rose and went down, and there discovered Lupin and Tonks engaged in a deep discussion with Mr and Mrs Weasley and Bill. There was no sign of Ron, Hermione or even Ginny and Gabrielle, and Harry wondered temporarily if he had missed something. The sun was up but they were not in.
Before he could turn around to take a second check through Ron's room though, he caught the tail-end of Lupin's statement, "… are too random for it to be nothing, there has to be a strategy here somewhere."
He paused and tried his best to soften the sound of his own breathing.
"What kind of strategy? As far as I can see he's trying to wreak havoc, the Muggles need their police force for simple law and order and now that he's removing them… there's no telling what could happen," said Mrs Weasley.
"Are you implying that there is some kind of system at work?" asked Mr Weasley.
Lupin took a moment before he replied, "Yes, there has to be. The mist has been doing a lot more damage than we thought, the Muggles' power sources are failing, their crops are withering, and the soil is compact, almost rocky now. The dragon fires and giant attacks are destroying some of their infrastructure, and now the loss of the police is affecting their ability to exert general control. There has to be a system at work here somewhere, and if there is, I think we have to find some way to stop him before he goes to the next phase."
"I can see something like that at work, but not only on the Muggles. Prices are rising and money is hard to get, some businesses are closing down and Diagon Alley is being abandoned more and more everyday. No matter what the Ministry does people are scared, and its worse now that he has Snape completely in employ," replied Bill, his last words distinctly bitter.
"We'll stop him still," declared Mrs Weasley, confidently. "How are things with the were-"
Just then, Harry's eavesdropping was interrupted by the sound of familiar heavy footsteps in the hall behind him. Ron was coming, he had probably been in the bathroom, and he had a feeling that if he found him on the stairs his first question would loudly give him away.
He'd have to find out about Lupin and the werewolves later on then.
Boldly continuing down to the kitchen he began, "Good morning. Hey Lupin, Tonks…."
As he expected their conversation came to an abrupt end, and they all turned to look at him, (and Ron behind him, yawning loudly) as he entered and headed for the pile of toast Mrs Weasley had already prepared.
She rose at once, and sent him to his seat, "No, no dear, let me get that for you, have a seat…."
The others moved over to give him and Ron room, and Harry was happy to note that Lupin looked much better than he had the last time. Colour had returned to his skin, no longer did he lean heavily on the table and seated beside Tonks he betrayed no sign of illness. He even cheerfully greeted Harry as they sat down… and immediately reminded him of the letter.
For the past two days it had been the furthest thing from his thoughts. He had even worn the jeans it was in the day before, and surprisingly, not once had had cause to go into the pockets.
He returned Lupin's greeting and Tonks' classic "Wotcher Harry!" and smiled lightly at Mr Weasley and Bill, as Mrs Weasley brought over their toast. Beyond that though, no one said a word until the happy distraction of the arrival of Hermione, Gabrielle, Ginny and Fleur.
It was an arrival though, that also became an excuse for Lupin and Tonks to leave, making official the abrupt end of their discussion.
As usual they were doing their level best to keep him out of the loop.
"Well, we've already had breakfast, so I guess this is our cue to leave," began Lupin, rising from his place at the table.
Tonks rose with him, "I have to get back to the Ministry-lot's of top secret stuff going on down there."
She said this last bit to Harry and the others who turned to her with raised eyebrows. But no explanation came, and instead she went on out the door with Lupin, the faint mist gently swirling round them as they did.
Harry looked to Bill who replied, "Don't look at me; I don't know what that's about."
The others filled their vacant seats comfortably, and soon they had all settled to their usual morning practice. They ate, discussed the wedding and finally Mrs Weasley gave the orders for the day.
But this time they were in for a surprise, their task was to rest. They had apparently earned it after working for much of the week, shut up in the house and then setting up decorations under the tent. She could not guarantee that they would be so fortunate tomorrow but at least they had that day, they barely heard her beyond her first sentence.
Ron took the news the only way he knew how, and immediately set up a game of Quidditch between him, Harry, Hermione and Ginny with Gabrielle as referee.
Again the letter slipped to the back of Harry's mind.
*****
The day William Weasley made Fleur Delacour his bride before friends and family in the beautifully decorated backyard of his childhood home, the sun ascended a tiny golden disk in a blaze of white to a nearly cloudless robin's egg-blue sky.
The light preceding it had already woken Harry, lancing reaches that quickly filled Ron's already brilliant bedroom and pierced the comfortable darkness of his sleep. He opened his eyes, and for a moment lay still listening to the different snores of the three brothers beside him. The combined noise sounded so much a jackhammer that he was surprised he hadn't heard it; he had to learn to sleep lighter than that.
And then the light fell on his forest green dress robes for the afternoon's wedding.
This was not a day for such thoughts.
The last week had been much more activity filled than the first. Over a hundred chairs had to be found and arranged in a semi-circle under the tent in the backyard. Each had to be assigned a decorated bell with a larger arrangement at the ends of the rows on which were mounted tiny candles. A white carpet had to be spread for the main aisle and the small stage on which Fleur, Bill and the officiating magistrate were to stand had to be draped in swaths of white tulle traced with tiny gold ribbon. In the reception the chairs would be removed for the guests to dance under the tent to the music of The Weird Sisters, somehow procured for the event.
After the decoration there was then the rehearsal to deal with. This turned out to be a rather hassle-free non-event where the wedding party and the magistrate practiced their arrangement before the guests. Harry and Hermione watched from the doorway, every now and then smiling encouragingly at an increasingly bored Ron.
Since he had learned of it, the only thing of interest to him now was Bill's much whispered about upcoming stag night.
That night, the night before, had been a rather exciting affair but tame by the usual standards. They all, Bill, Charlie, the twins-finally over since Harry's arrival-("Hiya, Harry," "Gave your guard the slip?" "Should have nicked his wand while you were at it-" "We have something in the works to help with future evasions-" "Don't tell Mum…") and Ron, went into the orchard with butterbeers and their brooms for what should have been a game of late night Quidditch. Well, at least what they told Mrs Weasley and the others.
Somehow or the other, they eventually managed to slip off the property entirely and go flying wildly over their sleeping village. Here they played a new game, taking turns dropping a large steel ring, transfigured from a bottle cap, into the neighbours' backyards and in open fields for Bill to find. And despite the chill, the darkness and the constant threat of discovery, they played on well into the night.
They had only come back just a few hours ago in fact, to find Crookshanks glaring at them at the backdoor, though the rest of the house was thankfully silent. They would pay for their crimes later on of course, but with a little magical help they would at least be able to fight any residual drowsiness.
It would not do to be snoring loudly through the ceremony.
Beyond that though, for Harry the past week had also been filled with long days, the first arriving guests, (unsurprisingly all red-haired) trying to avoid Gabrielle, and Ginny, and waiting for the day where it would all end.
That day was today, this afternoon to be exact, and as soon as he got out of bed he would start getting ready for it.
Harry lay listening to the others' snoring for a moment longer before finally rolling over, away from the window and drifting gently off to sleep.
With a start that sharply contrasted the first time he had awoken that morning, Harry was roused the second time by Ron. He saw him, groaned and rolled over again to go back to sleep, he'd been having a wonderful dream of soaring over the countryside on the back of a hippogriff….
Ron though, was not in the mood and with a sharp tug of the sheets that nearly sent him tumbling, called loudly, "Wake up, mate! Mum's been calling you for breakfast for over an hour now, it's nearly midday!"
That woke him up immediately.
"Are they getting dressed yet?" he asked, scrambling off the bed and stumbling into his slippers on his way out the door.
"No, well Fleur is, and I think Ginny and Gabrielle just went up, Hermione too, Mum comes down every few minutes to check on the rest of us, but you know how long girls take," Ron replied.
They had just made it past their bedrooms and could barely make out the muffled sound of activity within. Clearly though, they were busily getting dressed.
Down in the kitchen, Harry froze when he saw what was laid out for them. It seemed that every available space in the room had been taken over by some item of food, layers and mounds of rich, delicious food. There was enough there to feed an army, or rather, supplement Ron for a day, and Harry had to wonder how he was restraining himself from sneaking a bite.
As if reading his mind, Ron told him, as he headed for the sandwiches laid out, "Mum's charmed them, Fred and George tried to get a piece of cake and ended up with red hands, itching red hands…. I'm not taking any chances."
Harry laughed, and said, "Don't worry, I'm sure they won't let you suffer… though you are looking a bit peaky, should I go up and tell them to get moving?"
Ron glared at him, and replied, "Just hurry up and eat okay? Mum's at least got a job for you somewhere, Fred and George are ushers."
Harry peered out the window and caught a glimpse of them helping a relative over to a seat, a line of others stood by awaiting instruction. Somehow, he wasn't too sure he was entirely comfortable with the arrangement.
For the fact that it was merely an hour to the ceremony, Harry took his time getting through breakfast, then his shower after, and finally getting into his dress robes. He could do nothing with his hair, and didn't much try, but at least the rest of him could be neat.
Ron and the others dressed with him, Bill in matching white robes to Fleur's, and Charlie and Ron in a darker gold to match the bridesmaids. Harry refrained from commenting (they all had the considerable advantage of height, and some weight, on him) but could give no guarantees that he wouldn't when the twins saw them. In the end though, they didn't look all that odd, and he could imagine them standing at the platform with Bill and Fleur perfectly matched to the décor.
They were not finished by the time he was though, and Harry decided a little walk around the grounds wouldn't hurt. For some reason, somewhere between breakfast and his bath he had this unnatural idea that this was the last time he would see them this happy. It was irrational really, there was a war on and they were having a wedding in the middle of it, why wouldn't they be happy? But the feeling just persisted, and he had to take a walk.
As he stepped into the hall he bumped into Crookshanks, who irritably brushed him off and continued on his way. Curiously, there was an odd tuft of pink fluff tucked in-between a paw. This presented a feeling of discomfort far surpassing the sight of Fred and George being responsible. What had that cat done now?
He followed its path with his eyes until they fell on a touch of ice blue satin in a doorway. A little shoe, just barely matching the colour of the gown stuck up beneath it and he lifted his eyes, following the rises and falls of the material to where it became skin, and then led to a face: Hermione.
She smiled at him and he reddened, embarrassed. Mercifully, she was the one who spoke first, "Are you ready?"
"Yeah," he squeaked, and then clearing his throat, asked, "Are they?"
She shook her head, "Not for another hour or two." Then, stepping away and shutting the door gently behind her, "Then again, you never know, could be days at this rate."
"I can't be sure of this, but they might be able to hear you," he told her, as seriously as he could though he really (thankfully) wanted to smile.
She simply shrugged, and said, "You should hear Ginny when she thinks they're not listening, she's having a bit of trouble adjusting. I just hope she'll be alright if Percy shows up."
"Percy?" he asked, coming over to her before they continued to the stairs together.
"Mrs Weasley sent an invitation, I think, but they don't think he'll come," she replied.
"It's just as well, Scrimgeour might just take advantage of the opportunity," he told her.
"He can't do that Harry, you told him that you're not going to let him use you and he has to accept that," she replied.
"I told him that before and he was there after the funeral," he pointed out.
Hermione sighed, "The invitations are very specific, Harry, no one unless directly named can come. Now let's relieve Fred and George of their duty, I would hate to be in Fleur's way if anything goes wrong."
"I was actually going for a walk," he told her, and was surprised to find that he wasn't embarrassed to admit it.
"Oh, can I come with you?" she asked, "If you want to be alone, that's okay, but I just need something to do."
"What? Have they been keeping you from your books too long? Ron's having the same problem with food," he teased.
Downstairs, they found the twins admitting their latest guests, Neville and his grandmother, and Luna and her father. Curiously, Neville's grandmother was dressed in an outfit remarkably similar to one he had described back in Third Year. Luna's father had the same wide eyes as his daughter, but everything else she must have inherited from her mother as he was a short, plump, balding man with long dark brown hair. Today he was dressed in a set of sparkly grey robes to match his daughter's silver and shook earnestly every hand he encountered. They waved as they went over to their seats, but strangely Harry found himself remembering Ron's odd question that night on the Knight Bus.
"Did anyone see Mr Lovegood on that bus?"
Ron had never made reference to it again after that moment, but it with a sense of dread now that Harry thought of it. He knew that at any other time he would brush it off as simply that they had had a visitor, but not now.
Before he could make mention of it though, he was distracted by the arrival of Ron.
Completely dressed, he had been standing in the doorway behind them, looking out at the arrival of Neville and Luna too. They did not even notice him until Harry turned to speak to Hermione, and when they did he merely said, "They're ready."
"All of them?" asked Hermione, furrowing her brow slightly at his rather sudden subdued mood.
He nodded, "They want to finish before sunset, and nobody wants to be out when it's dark."
There went the fairy lights, and they had worked so hard on them.
"Oh, okay," Harry replied, and then asked, "You okay mate?"
It was a moment before he said, "Let's just get this over with, we've been waiting for it for weeks now."
Bill suddenly came out of the door behind him, the nearly completely healed scars on his face furious red slashes against his pale skin in the sunlight. He smiled for a moment at them too, before strolling out to the guests and the stage. Moments later, Charlie and Mrs Weasley did the same.
Looking at them go, surrounding by their colourfully dressed guests, in their fashionably decorated backyard, on a beautifully sunny day, Harry suddenly had an odd comprehension of Ron's mood. For all their hard work, for all their effort, for all his thoughts for the past week that had shoved away all thoughts of Dumbledore's letter, this was just a temporary diversion. And though they all had every right to be happy about it, to think about what they were going to wear, when it would be over, how far they get from Gabrielle, not looking at Ginny and so on, it did not take away the fact that it was all a bit false, really. It was actually a fancy dress party for a ceremony that could take just twenty minutes in the Ministry of Magic and at the end of which they would no closer to ending the war or finding the Horcruxes.
Well, at least, just Harry should have been thinking that way, but he wasn't. So maybe the party idea wasn't so bad, even though those who had organised it still had no idea of what they were up to.
But still….
And after the ceremony and celebration, it became far more poignant. For in that moment, as the sun, cushioned in its pillows of gold finally descended to a welcoming horizon traced in orange and dark red, Harry turned, and found the darkness rising to greet it.
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