A/N: This is one of the most challenging chapters of this story I've written yet…hope you enjoy it…and I ask you to please tell me what you think.
Chapter IX: Wedding Plans
A momentous occasion was being planned for in the Burrow, which was the source of the ruckus and anxiety that had overwhelmed the household today.
In an emotional display of bravery and devotion, Harry had dropped on one knee the previous night, and proposed to Hermione a union between her and him in marriage. The glistening ring that adored her fourth finger after her barely audible muttered consent, was the signal Mrs. Weasley had been itching to see - the following morning, she had risen everyone much earlier than normal to prepare the wedding.
The reason for the hastiness was exactly what Harry had talked to Molly about after dinner, and she had agreed to not mention a shred of their conversation, in order to retain the festive atmosphere of the setting - the only detail allowed was that the wedding was not going to be terribly prolonged or elaborate.
For the risk of attack was great, despite the steps taken to ensure the security of the affair. The Prophet had been reporting increased sightings of individuals in black robes, greatly reminiscent of Voldemort's Death Eaters - which, in fact, they were, but now under a different master.
The wedding preparations themselves were progressing nicely. Under the Weasley matriarch's command, chairs were laid out in the neatly trimmed backyard, though there weren't as many as had been during Bill and Fleur's wedding - this time around, less people would be present. Further, greeting banners had been hung all around on the fence, and a small stage for the minister and the groom and the bride was placed in front of the aisle formed by the two blocks of chairs. Off to one side, a tent was put up, under which tables and chairs were placed for the guests after the ceremony.
Inside the house, Mrs. Weasley was busily darting between the kitchen, the living room and the staircase that led to the above floor, simultaneously keeping an eye on the simmering food, directing an annoyed Ginny in putting up decorations, and repeatedly prompting Ron and his brothers to start on cleaning up their rooms.
The atmosphere continued to be one of organized chaos. Bill and Fleur had been charged with arranging invitations, flowers, and assisting Mrs. Weasley with the cooking of the massive feast that needed to be prepared. Harry had dropped by and offered on multiple occasions his assistance with the preparations for the wedding, but Mrs. Weasley had outright refused his request to help - much to Ron's dismay. Hermione, on the other hand, had departed for the purpose of breaking the news to her parents, and convince them into coming to her wedding.
**
Two days were left until the serene culmination of the stressful efforts that were being put towards a peacefully proceeding wedding. That morning, Ron came in the kitchen, carrying a stack of invitations in his hands.
"Morning, Harry," he greeted his bleary-eyed best friend. "I've a bunch of invitations here - look to make sure they're alright, won't you? I'll be back in an hour; have to pick up Luna and the kids from London."
Harry barely managed to mutter a goodbye, before Ron shot out the door in a hurry; he seemed to be running late, judging by the great haste, with which he ran out of the yard and disapparated into nothingness.
Harry took another sip of the coffee in front of him, and picked up the invitations in question. He had had absolutely no say in who was going to be invited, and who was not going to be, as that responsibility had been left to Hermione, and she insisted on creating a list of her own. She took a surprisingly short time to accomplish her allotted task, and Ron had been sent to create the invitations. Looking through them, Harry did not find anything to object about, and could not find a reason to complain about the list either. He knew more people could be invited, but for the purpose of security, he understood why fewer guests would be present.
The Burrow was strangely silent this morning. Finding it a bit unsettling, Harry could not become used to the lack of atmosphere of warmth and chaos that usually accompanied his stays here. He, of course, also knew that the brunt of the work around the planning of the wedding had been accomplished in the previous days, and now the minor details were those that needed to be sorted. Deciding to dress himself, and enjoy the remainder of his bachelorhood, Harry headed upstairs. By the sounds issuing from the other rooms, he induced people were finally stirring. Looking down at his watch, he saw the hands showing nine o'clock.
Just as he was opening the door to the room he and Ron shared, Hermione came out from the adjacent room.
"Morning, love," she told Harry sleepily once she realized he was there.
"Good morning," he replied, and embraced her tightly, all the while planting a kiss on her crown.
"Why are you up so early?" she asked, puzzled, once they had parted.
"Shouldn't I be?" Harry countered with a slight smile.
"Well…you usually don't wake up for another hour," Hermione observed with a small smile of her own.
"I have two days of being single and free, Hermione," Harry said, surprisingly serious. "I plan to make the most of it!"
Hermione merely rolled her eyes and completely disengaged herself from Harry.
"You'll be mine soon enough, Harry," she told him coyly.
"And don't you doubt it," he called after her, as she walked in the bathroom.
In truth, Harry had to admit to himself, marriage was something he had been looking for, ever since Hermione and him had rekindled their relationship. It had become stronger than before, more involved, personal and passionate. As with any other couple that shared love, in its truest, essential and purest form, Harry and Hermione would enter in a union, which would only serve the purpose of solidifying and strengthening their relationship - fate had chosen and bonded them for life, and death, a long time ago.
Putting on a pair of faded jeans and a shirt that he had received for one Christmas several years ago, Harry made his way downstairs once again, only to find that this time, Mrs. Weasley was dominating the setting, preparing a breakfast for the multitude of people that would soon arrive from upstairs, as well as Ron's family, which was due to show up soon.
"Harry, be a dear, and hand me that frying pan, will you?" she asked of Harry, while passing him in the direction of the buffet on the other side of the kitchen.
"Yeah, sure," Harry replied and easily took the pan in question off from the overhanging hooks.
Mrs. Weasley thanked him, and went on to break the consecutive batch of eggs into the pan, once she placed it on top of the burning stove.
The hustle and bustle of Mrs. Weasley, flying knives and food, charmed to stir itself, continued on. Harry hung about, rather awkwardly, waiting on for some instruction from Mrs. Weasley. At last, her gaze suddenly snapped up, as if she was seeing Harry clearly for the first time.
"Harry, could you go in the living room, and tell me when Ron and Luna arrive?" she requested in a hurry.
"Sure, Mrs. Weasley," said Harry automatically, and wandered off into the room in question.
He barely sat down on the couch, and was about to drift off into thoughts of his own about married life, the attacks, the victims and their mysterious killers, when an unexpected bang startled him, and his head shot up in the direction of the fireplace.
Ron came hurtling out, head first, and landed on his back on the carpeted floor. His entrance stirred up a cloud of dust and charcoal, and soot covered his head. Harry's redheaded friend sat up disheveled, coughing, and wiping his eyes.
"I hate Floo," he muttered to the air, but he focused on the fireplace immediately after, putting himself in a pose to catch anyone coming in as surprisingly as he had.
Harry's hopes for another spectacular entrance were dampened, however, when instead of coming in forcefully, Luna appeared with the grace of a gazelle from the fireplace, carrying James and holding Madelyn by the arm. What was even more interesting, not a speck of dust adorned their clothes.
Grumbling under his breath, Ron rose to his feet. "Why can't I ever do that," he murmured to Harry in passing.
After confirming that Luna and the kids hadn't suffered from the journey across the Floo Network, Ron sat down beside Harry.
"Mate," he finally said, "you have today and tomorrow, before your woman imprisons you for the rest of your days."
"Ronald, I heard that!" came Luna's disembodied, and slightly higher pitched voice from the kitchen.
"Only joking, love," Ron called back quickly. "Anyways," he continued, this time in a lower tone, "tonight, you, me and my brothers - we have to go celebrate your final days as a bachelor. I'm thinking The Three Broomsticks, six o'clock?"
"No objections from me, mate," replied Harry with a grin. "Let's do it."
"Excellent," Ron said in an undertone. "I'll go boot the other gits out of bed, and then we'll go drinking tonight!"
With those words, Ron jumped from the couch, and bolted in the direction of the stairs to carry out his plan of telling his brothers of the night's plans.
Hermione was coming down the moment Ron shot past her, and she turned to look questioningly at his rapidly retreating back.
"What is wrong with him?" she queried of Harry when she came to stand next to him.
"I'm really not sure," Harry replied with a knowing smile, "but he did seem excited about something when he came back."
"I see," Hermione said slowly, observing Harry with a scrutinizing gaze. "What aren't you telling me, Harry?"
"Absolutely nothing, Hermione," Harry answered with the same easiness as before - he was determined to not permit Hermione know of where he and Ron were headed, at least, not until the very last moment when the company would leave.
"Are you sure you don't need any help, Mrs. Weasley?" Harry suddenly rose, and leaving Hermione behind on purpose, he made his way to the kitchen - simply because he knew he would not be able to retain his easy air of deception in front of his beloved for much longer.
"As a matter of fact, Harry," Molly replied rather thoughtfully, "there is something you could do for me."
"Yeah?"
"Feed the chickens outside in the pen, please," she instructed him. "The grain is in a bucket next to the coop."
Harry assented, and departed out the front door to perform the assigned task. In the meanwhile, Ron bounded down the stairs, looking somewhat smug and expecting.
"And why are you so happy?" Luna asked him slowly, while James and Madelyn chewed on cookies Mrs. Weasley had given them.
"No reason…no reason at all," Ron answered flippantly, before turning his attention elsewhere. "Mum! Anything you want me to do?"
"Yes, Ron, there is, actually," she answered, slightly suspiciously. "I want you to find and bring Ginny and Draco for the wedding. You and Harry can do that, once he is finished with the chickens."
Ron's smirk practically fell off his face, and he groaned. "Won't they receive invitations?"
"They will receive invitations, yes, but you and Harry are to ensure they arrive here safely," his mother said forcefully, looking pointedly at him.
"I…I think we can do that," Ron agreed quickly, and without looking at anyone else in the room, stepped outside and departed towards the chicken coop.
He didn't think his mother would ever know that Ginny was responsible for Harry's presence with them. Nobody had told her, nor hinted at it - he was at a loss to explain how she knew - unless, Ginny had admitted to doing it, or perhaps been forced to admit it, by their mother.
Thoughts of that very worrying nature plagued Ron's mind in the minute that it took him to arrive next at the coop, where Harry was just throwing the last batch of grain to the hens.
"Ron, you alright?" Harry asked him questioningly when he saw his best friend, acting jittery and nervous.
"Harry, we're not fine, at all," Ron said in distress. "Mum knows…she knows, about Ginny."
"Wait, what are you talking about?" Harry tried to instill some sense into the exchange.
"That she brought you back, you git! Try and keep up," Ron snapped back. "Now it's even worse! What if those Death Eaters come after her? It's only so long we can keep this from them! One war was enough, Harry, I don't want to fight another!"
"Keep your voice down," Harry tried to hush him. "They're dangerous, yes, but they don't know Mrs. Weasley is aware of how I returned - as long as the book is safe with you and Luna, everything should be fine," he attempted to reason.
"Yes, yes…you're right," Ron replied, now calmer, "but that doesn't mean you and I are off the hook. We have to bring Ginny and that git, Malfoy, to the wedding."
"Fine," Harry replied readily. "What are we waiting for?"
With those words, he started walking towards the front gate, not bothering to check if Ron was coming. The latter, after a moment's hesitation, ran forward, and caught up to Harry.
"Just one question, Harry," Ron said, as they walked out of the gate. "Can we make it back before six?"
**
Harry and Ron had finally made it to the fringes of the estate they knew had once belonged to Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. Long ago, the grass had been neatly trimmed, but now, it was overgrown with reeds and undergrowth. Trees had started springing up between the long blades of grass. Not a single gust of wind meant that the surroundings were as still as if Death herself had passed here. There was a chill in the air that made Harry and Ron shiver, despite the shining sun and the flawless blue sky. The dark trees surrounding the manor and the estate seemed to be beckoning them, inviting them to the mystery and horrors of the Forbidden Forest…
Doing their best to dispel the ominous feeling that had taken hold of him, Harry jumped over the rickety wooden fence, dark and rotten with age, and Ron followed after him. The grass swished against their legs as they walked through it with ever increasing caution.
"D'you think they're waiting in ambush?" Harry asked quietly.
"Maybe. Stay close and keep your wand at the ready," Ron answered even quieter.
Yet, despite their cautions and worry, the surroundings were as dead as they looked. No Death Eaters jumped out at them, not the slightest noise was made. The unnatural quiet still did not lessen the ominous and heavy feeling, but at least assuring that no immediate danger was present, eased Harry and Ron's concerns a little.
Still not letting their guard completely fall, they moved until the Malfoy Manor came in complete view. Though still in good condition, neglect had still made its mark on the dwelling - the whitewashed walls were blackened, and a thin layer of grime covered the windows. The path leading to the front door was overgrown with grass and covered in the previous autumn's leaves, mixed in with a dried layer of earth.
The only oddity in this otherwise dead setting was the dim light that was shivering through one of the windows that was blocked by two heavy curtains.
"You think they're inside?" Ron said, very quietly.
"Ginny and Draco, probably, I don't see where else they would go," Harry shrugged his shoulders. "Let's go take a look."
Kneeling, and quietly crawling across the remainder of the distance towards the window, Harry and Ron slowly raised themselves, in the process casting Disillusionment charms over themselves, and peered through the crack in the curtains.
Inside the lavishly decorated sitting room, the two people they were after were indeed present. Draco was sitting in one of the chairs, hunched forward with his head in his hands, looking down at the floor and deep in thought. Ginny was lying on the couch next to the chair, staring up at the ceiling, and quite possibly lost in thoughts of her own.
"Come on," Harry told Ron, after they had observed them for several minutes. "Let's take them out of this dump and to the Burrow."
"Yeah, this place gives me the willies," Ron replied, on edge, looking out towards the forest.
Harry didn't reply, and instead, walked quickly to the front door, closely shadowed by Ron. Gathering his remaining courage,, he knocked cautiously on the door, hoping Draco or Ginny wouldn't curse him and Ron to pieces.
At first, there was no response. Shortly after, however, they heard slow and deliberate footsteps on the other side of the door.
"Who's there!" called Draco's voice, sharply and loudly.
"It's us, Harry and Ron," Harry shouted back. "Can we come inside?"
"How do I know you aren't disguised Death Eaters?" the same sharp tone echoed.
"In third year Hermione punched you in the face," Harry said loudly to prove his identity, and silently, he beckoned Ron.
"And I vomited slugs in second year," his companion replied loudly too, but more reluctantly.
"Alright!" Draco shouted once again. "I believe you."
In the next few seconds, they heard a series of lock click, and the front door was opened.
"Come on in," their host said, evidently more relaxed than a minute ago - yet, a muscle was still working in his jaw.
"Alright, Malfoy?" Ron asked with concern.
"Been better, to be honest," Draco replied. "I was doing some research a few days ago - tried to find out what was so important about Ginny that those Death Eaters want her so bad."
"And?" Ron prompted him.
"I have rare volumes on the Dark Arts, left to me by my father - they're safe in my Gringotts vault - but I spent a good afternoon reading them over, since I had head something about resurrection."
"What did you find?" Harry asked anxiously.
"That spell Ginny used - it was in one of my father's books, and explained quite in detail how it worked, but more importantly, how to modify the Killing curse to be more effective against the soul duplication spell," Draco finished quietly, a glint of hope in his eyes.
So?" Ron said again.
"Think about it Weasley," Draco replied hurriedly, "My copy of it is the only one in existence, that tells us this information. We have an advantage we can exploit, as long as the Death Eater scum doesn't manage to grab a hold of it."
At that moment, Ginny walked in, looking sullen, but relieved to have the company of the two visitors.
"What are you talking about?" she asked solemnly.
"I'm just telling these two what I found with my research," Draco explained quickly, before turning back to Harry and Ron. "And why are you two all the way here? How did you know where to find us?"
"A lucky guess, let's call it," Harry said forcefully. "Now we have to go to the Burrow, as soon as possible."
"What's the rush? I think we're safe, right where we are right now," Draco objected coolly.
"It's my wedding, you dolt," Harry said exasperatedly. "You and Ginny have to be there, and in one piece too."
"Well then, let's go," Ginny simply stated in the awkward silence that followed, and stepped towards the door. "Well, are you coming, or not?" she prompted the other three once she opened the door.
Silently, they made their way to what used to be a sweeping lawn in front of the house, and apparated away with the slightest of pops.
That exchange had been kept short and choppy on purpose - by mutual agreement, the characters involved had talked little, revealed only what was important, and rushed to make a safe haven.
Mere seconds after their departure, an unwelcome presence manifested itself in front of the manor. He was rather tall, slightly hunched, dressed in a black cloak, and had a white washed mask covering his face. Twigs snapped under his heavy boots, as he took a few steps forward, looking around slowly.
"Hmm, they've been here," the figure's deep voice muttered quietly into the stillness, after performing an intricate movement with his wand.
Taking a few more minutes to just stand and observe, in case someone returned, the man eventually seemed to convince himself that nobody was going to come back soon, and he too disappeared in thin air - only leaving the unnatural silence to take hold upon the surroundings again.
A/N This is by far the longest installment of this story…I know, it's been long since, I updated, but I still hope you liked it, and I'll be immensely delighted, if you would leave a review on your way out. :D Next chapter is coming up soon, I think…
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