Final Year, Chapter 5 – Bonded For Life

From the Journal of Hermione Granger – June 20

Sometimes I’m simply amazed at the fickleness of the wizarding world. Harry’s support for Scrimgeour, such as it was, seems to have given the Minister new life. The public’s fascination with The Boy Who Lived is as strong as ever. Getting both Harry’s comments and the Minister’s spin on the incident in the paper the day after the original story was perfect timing. The Daily Prophet fell all over itself backing off its earlier editorial position.

So, for the time being at least, Harry’s a hero again. The twins have been ribbing him about it. Even though he winces and grimaces at their antics, I know he appreciates the way they tease him about his fame because it’s clear that they don’t take it seriously. Ginny also managed to get in a pretty good shot. She slid up against his side, batted her eyelashes at him, and simpered, “My hero!” Ron’s eyes practically bugged out before he realized she was having him on, but Fred and George were practically rolling on the floor. I played along with it, and grabbed his other arm, pulled him down, kissed his cheek, and gushed, “You’re so brave!”

Harry didn’t know how to respond at first, looking back and forth at Ginny and me, who just stared back up at him with impish grins on our faces. Then he wrapped his arms around both of us and smirked, turned to Ron, and announced, “Well, at least it’s a great way to pick up good looking women.” I thought Ron was going to have a heart attack, and the twins nearly passed out. The three of us (Ginny, Harry, and me) burst out laughing after that.

…

Ron, Harry, and I have been spending as much time as we can talking together and planning. For one thing, Ron and I have been going through some of the more important pensieve memories that Harry and I picked up from Dumbledore’s office. Harry had described them as well as he could, but it always helps to see things first hand. There are quite a few of them, though, so we’ll be reviewing them for a long time.

There was a pretty amusing moment yesterday when I was rummaging around in my handbag, pulling out all sorts of odds and ends while looking for a charms book. Harry suddenly laughed out loud and Ron and I turned to him to find out what had struck him as being so funny. He said I reminded him of Marry Poppins – the scene where she’s first introduced to the children and begins unpacking her bag. I smiled and agreed. (Harry claims I giggled, but I do not giggle.) Then we had to explain to Ron who Mary Poppins was, and Harry wondered if she was a witch, since she could obviously do magic. It never occurred to me before how many stories we read and movies we saw growing up had magic in them.

That incident got us talking about what we were packing in our bags to prepare for when we leave, and I told Harry that Ron was taking care of the food. Ron got his rucksack and proudly showed us what he’d managed to pack away so far. He has an enormous quantity of Molly’s stew, which made Harry’s eyes light up. I agree that her stew is quite tasty, and complimented Ron on his choice as it’s also a very practical one-dish meal. Then he showed us the desserts. He has all sorts of pies and pastries, cakes, tarts – you name it, he’s got it. I wanted to chide him for going overboard in this area, but didn’t have the heart to say anything when I saw Harry lick his lips at the sight of the treacle tart.

For his part, Ron was astounded at how many books and how many feet of parchment Harry and I had in our bags. He was in the middle of a snarky comment about it being typical of me to pack practically every book I owned when he turned around and saw Harry pulling Gryffindor’s sword out of his rucksack. That shut him up because his lower jaw was somewhere just above his shoes. I have to admit, it is a rather impressive sight. Then Harry cut him off before he could resume his disparaging remark by saying that I was in charge of deciding which books to bring, that he knew I had spent a lot of time sorting through piles and piles of books, and that he trusted my judgment to make good choices. That show of support earned him a big hug and kiss from me, but a dirty look from Ron.

Harry changed the subject a little when he wondered about accommodations when we’re off searching for Horcruxes. I asked the boys what they thought about us using a wizarding tent. Both of them liked the idea, and Ron thought he could see if his father might once again borrow one of the tents we used at the Quidditch World Cup. Harry was reluctant to go that route, since that would run the risk of more people finding out what we were doing. I suggested we try to borrow the one from the Delacours that we used last summer with Fleur and Tonks. He liked that idea, and since we’ll be seeing them next week it will be a good opportunity to inquire about its availability.

…

Tonight is the full moon, so Remus and Tonks aren’t here. Since Snape fled that night, Remus hasn’t had Wolfsbane potion. This is his second full moon without it, and I feel so bad for him – it must be horrible having to go back to uncontrolled transformations. Tonks took him to her parents’ house, where they have a place to lock him up. If I have time in the next month, I’m going to try to learn to make the potion myself before the next full moon.

Since Fleur also went home to France to work on final preparations for the wedding, it’s a fair bit less crowded around the Burrow now. I’ve been taking the opportunity the past few days to talk to different people and get their opinions on the books about Dumbledore. Most of the members of the Order, as one might expect, liked the complimentary one Doge wrote. A few, Mrs. Weasley for example, said they wouldn’t even consider reading the exposé. Fleur was the most open-minded of the lot.

The exposé was authored by a man who goes by the name Diogenes Diggle. He’s apparently a well-known author of tell-all wizarding biographies whose claim is that his name reflects his style – he’s fanatical about unearthing the truth. The uncomplimentary muggle expression for that would be muckraking. On the other hand, a more charitable term might be that he’s an investigative author. I suppose we’ll have to wait and see exactly what the book says to determine which descriptor is more accurate.

I think it’s interesting how both books treat the same topics. The excerpts that have been published so far include Dumbledore’s political influence, his troubled home life, and his epic battle with Grindelwald. One book lauds his selflessness and humility in turning down the Minister of Magic job while the other one denounces his behind the scenes manipulation, and claims that the actual Ministers have been puppets under his control. The first book sympathizes with the fact that his father went to prison for attacking muggles, and his sister suffered from a long illness which claimed her life the year he graduated from Hogwarts. The second book counters that Dumbledore shared his father’s less than favorable opinions of muggles in his early years, and that his sister was not ill, but rather locked up because she was a squib! Finally, Doge claims that his defeat of Grindelwald was an epic duel, one of the most memorable in wizarding history, while Diggle suggests that the battle was not so noble as most people think.

As far as his being manipulative goes, we’ve had enough first hand experience with that aspect of his character that I have no trouble accepting those parts of the exposé. And as for his early home life – the real eye-opener for us is that his family lived in Godric’s Hollow! Why would he keep that from Harry? As far as I’m concerned, there’s even more reason for us to visit Godric’s Hollow now.

When I discussed this with Harry and Ron, Harry pretty much shared my skepticism, but Ron’s opinions are more in line with his mother’s. He pointed out that in our experience Rita Skeeter has consistently bent the truth, or produced outright fabrications. I reminded him though, that Rita hadn’t written the book, she had merely interviewed the author and written the stories in the Daily Prophet that contained the excerpts. I did concede that she most likely selected the parts that would make for the most sensational headlines.

-0x0x0-

From the Journal of Hermione Granger – July 26

Bill and Fleur’s wedding was absolutely fabulous! The way everything and everyone looked was simply amazing. And we learned a few interesting things as well. Ron’s Auntie Muriel was quite entertaining – she really is a character. Not to mention Luna’s father – Xenophilius. (And Harry thought Pius was an odd name!)

Ron provided a few moments of amusement as well. His reaction to Ginny’s dress, as I had expected, was quite amusing. When he first got a glimpse of it his eyes bugged out. He spent a few seconds ogling her cleavage before he caught himself, then went bright red. At that point he began glaring at any male who looked at her. Eventually he calmed down, but after a while he glanced at her again and then the whole process repeated itself. Simply hilarious! Harry had an interesting reaction to Ginny’s dress too, but more on that later.

As far as that goes, Ron’s reaction to my dress was also entertaining.

Hermione descended the stairs of the Burrow and passed through the uncharacteristically empty kitchen on her way out to the back garden, taking care not to catch her dress on anything. She was very pleased with how the gown had turned out. It was a pretty shade of lilac, with an eye-catching top. Emboldened by the low cut gowns that Fleur’s bridesmaids would be wearing (which thankfully did not include her, as Percy had steadfastly ignored all entreaties to join his family for this celebration) she had chosen a more daring neckline than she would have ordinarily. But rather than the V-shaped neckline and back of that style, she had selected a spaghetti strap top with a scooped neckline and plunging back. The tightly fitted bodice flared into a full skirt, giving her the appearance of a narrow waistline, and hiding her hips.

Further enhancing the effect, she had managed to get a light tan over the last week, which set off the pastel shade of the dress perfectly. She had discovered a clearing in the woods out back of the Burrow, and had spent an hour each day sunbathing, after casting powerful privacy wards of course. Not even Harry had known about it, as she snuck out in the mornings before he and Ron got up. Since she didn’t want any tan lines, she had untied the straps of her bikini top and left her back bare to the sun. Despite the privacy wards, she hadn’t quite been able to bring herself to sunbathe topless while lying on her back, but she had folded down the triangles of her top and tucked the straps inside so that only a few square inches of her breasts had been covered. The result was that all of the skin exposed by her gown had a nice, healthy glow.

To top everything off, she had once again used the Sleakeasy hair potion to tame her bushy hair, leaving it nice and shiny with just a bit of a wave to it. As at the Yule Ball, she wore it up, pinned by a pair of sparkling jeweled hair clips that Fleur had given her, and the style nicely displayed the attractiveness of her bare shoulders. The overall result had been perfect, in her opinion.

Out in the back behind the house an archway had been set up, and in front of it Ron, Fred, and George were handing out portkeys to the guests as they arrived. George waved her over as soon as he spotted her.

“Good morning, fair lady,” he greeted her with a sweeping bow. “I must say you look positively enchanting this morning.”

“Thank you George,” she responded with a light blush, after a quick glance at the scar on his cheek to confirm his identity. “Have you seen Harry?”

Before George could reply, Ron, having turned towards them at the sound of her voice, broke in. “Wow, Hermione! You look incredible!” he said in astonishment, scarcely able to believe his eyes.

“Thank you Ron,” Hermione sighed. “It’s nice to know that even after being friends for six years I can still surprise you.”

Ron finally managed to tear his gaze away from her torso and looked up in puzzlement. “Erm, what?”

“I mean, you’re clearly shocked that I can manage to look this attractive, right?”

“Well, yeah … No! I mean you don’t usually look like …” He was cut off by George’s hand smacking him on the back of the head.

“Sometimes, dear brother, when you’ve dug yourself into a hole like this, the best thing to do is shut up and quit digging.” He turned toward Hermione and then focused his attention over her left shoulder. “Here comes Harry now.”

“Hi guys, I was just checking the wards and …” he broke off as Hermione turned to face him, a shy, expectant smile on her lips.

“Wow! Hermione, you look incredible!” he said appreciatively, his smile broadening as he ran his eyes down the length of her gown and back up to her face, before reaching out to run his fingers lightly up her arm to her shoulder and leaning in for quick kiss.

“Thank you Harry,” she beamed back at him. “You look great too.”

Ron was unable to let this exchange go unchallenged, and burst out, “Hey, he said exactly the same thing I did! How come he didn’t get yelled at?”

Hermione rolled her eyes and turned to her other best friend, while Harry slipped his arm around her waist and hugged her gently to his side. “It’s the way you said it, Ron. You sounded amazed that I could look this good. Harry didn’t look surprised, or make it seem unexpected.” Ron just shook his head and threw his hands up in the air, despairing of ever understanding the logic of women.

While Ron went off to greet another arriving guest, Fred handed Harry a simple number two pencil. Hermione smiled as she recalled Fleur’s request to her for some ordinary muggle item that she could obtain in large quantities, to use as portkeys. Hermione had bought her a package of ten boxes containing a dozen pencils each before she had left for Australia. The pencil was in pristine condition, unsharpened of course, as Hermione hadn’t wanted to take the time to sharpen 120 pencils, or try to explain the workings of a pencil sharpener to a witch.

“The way this works,” Fred explained, “is the portkey’s set to activate when you step through this arch. There’s another one at the Delacour estate, and that’s where you’ll arrive. Bill and Fleur have somehow managed to make it so that you’ll come out walking exactly the same way you were when you went in, without all the disorientation that you usually get from spinning around when you use a portkey.”

“My goodness, that’s impressive magic,” Hermione declared. “They should try to sell this.”

“It has limited usefulness, since it took about a week to set up, and it’s only good for two fixed points, but Gringotts is looking into the possibilities,” Fred acknowledged. “Businesses with overseas branches for example, where you can’t just apparate.” He paused to glance up at the simple archway standing there unassumingly in the July morning sunshine. “Bill’s a right genius at runes and charms, always has been. The surprise is that Fleur’s right up there with him. We had no idea. Hard to believe such a beautiful woman could be so brilliant.”

Harry frowned. “Just like it’s hard to believe that a brilliant woman could be beautiful?” he asked rather pointedly, glancing from Fred to Hermione.

Fred decided to take his brother’s advice and keep his mouth shut on this one. Hermione, however, smiled broadly at Harry, her eyes sparkling, and leaned over kiss him on the cheek and murmur in his ear. “You are definitely going to be rewarded for that statement Harry James Potter. Just wait until I get you alone later.”

“Erm, OK, I’m … uh … looking forward to it,” Harry stammered while Fred grinned and turned away.

As they approached the arch Hermione paused, examining the runes inscribed on it and the way they were positioned. Harry grinned at her incessant pursuit of knowledge but gave her a nudge, knowing that they would be standing here for hours if he didn’t pull her away from her study. Hermione shot him a sheepish grin and took his arm.

“This is a great idea,” he commented. “If they can keep us from falling down on the other side I’m all for it.” Hermione nodded with some relief evident in her expression.

“One of the things I was most worried about this dress was how it would stand up to travel by portkey,” she explained with a shy smile and a slight blush. “The top is cut so low I was afraid it might slip and I’d pop out a little.”

“I’ll be glad to keep an eye on that for you,” he teased with another grin.

She smiled back playfully. “I’m sure you will.”

As they stepped through the arch the portkey activated just as advertised, and they felt the familiar tug in their stomachs. The spinning sensation that normally accompanied portkey travel was different this time, with more of a feeling of forward motion. As they reappeared at the Delacour property in France the impression was more one of stepping off a high-speed escalator or conveyer belt.

Harry took two quick steps and quickly regained his balance but Hermione, unaccustomed to the high heels on the shoes she was wearing, stumbled slightly. Harry’s arm shot out immediately to steady her, and either unintentionally or by subconscious design, he caught her across the chest, with his hand cupping her breast for an instant before he withdrew it.

“Everything still seems to be in place,” he whispered into her ear, resuming their previous banter.

“I knew I could count on you,” she shot back with a twinkle in her eye.

As they paused to take stock of their surroundings, now comprised of the expansive grounds and vineyards of the estate in the wine country of southern France, the attendant on this end of the archway, most likely a Delacour cousin of some sort, approached.

“Bonjour, Monsieur et Mademoiselle. Bienvenue au Manoir Delacour,” he stated politely before switching to English and repeating the message. Hermione immediately seized the opportunity to respond in the local language.

“Merci beaucoup. C'est tres agréable d'être ici, chez vous.”

Their host showed just a touch of surprise before smiling and continuing in a warmer fashion, explaining where and when the ceremony was to take place and how the seating was arranged, concluding by inviting them to stroll around the grounds for a while. Hermione thanked him again and added that they had in fact been there before, and knew their way around, then translated his comments for Harry as they moved away from the entry point.

“So, why not use a sticking charm?” Harry asked, returning to the previous subject.

“I tried one, but it actually worked too well,” Hermione explained as a saucy grin reappeared on her face. “It made the fabric cling to my skin absolutely everywhere, conforming perfectly.” Seeing that he didn’t quite understand the concept she continued, “Think wet tee shirt.”

Harry opened and closed his mouth as his eyes widened. “Oh … I guess I see your point.” He shook his head at her teasing smirk. “You are evil, you know. Now I’m not going to be able to get that image out of my mind all day.”

“Oh, I think you’ll change your mind when you see the bridesmaid’s dresses,” Hermione teased as she took his arm. “But if you like, I can show you what it looks like later if we’re alone.” Harry’s only response was a groan as they headed off toward the gardens.

Before they had gone far, a familiar face appeared.

“Viktor,” Hermione greeted their Bulgarian acquaintance. “What a pleasant surprise. It didn’t occur to me that you’d be here.”

“Fleur invited me, of course,” he replied with a slight bow. “Ve haf maintained our friendship since the tournament. And you?”

“Bill is the brother of our best friend, and we’re quite close to the family,” Harry responded quickly, stepping forward to shake hands, determined to maintain a friendly manner despite the way he felt Krum had taken advantage of Hermione’s request for assistance at Durmstrang the previous term. “Hermione and I also got to know Fleur pretty well last summer. She helped us out quite a bit with Hermione’s transfer last year.”

“Ah, yes, I recall,” the Bulgarian acknowledged before turning back to Hermione. “I must say, you are as beautiful as ever,” he declared, taking her hand and raising it to his lips. “You look vunderful.” Hermione blushed slightly, but moved closer to Harry, whose arm slid possessively around her waist and settled on her hip. Before letting go of her hand, Krum brushed his thumb across her unadorned ring finger and raised his eyebrow almost imperceptibly. Hermione blushed a bit more deeply this time, and dropped her gaze, somewhat flustered.

Harry caught the unspoken message as well, but forced a smile nevertheless. “Viktor, I want to thank you for all the help you gave Hermione last spring,” he broke in. “It must have been difficult for you, maintaining the ruse like that.”

“I assure you, it vas my pleasure,” Krum returned, with a small, satisfied smile of his own. “Anytime I can offer similar assistance, do not hesitate to ask.”

Hermione finally found her voice. “I’m sure we will,” she replied graciously, slightly emphasizing the ‘we’. “And thank you again. Perhaps we’ll see you later, at the reception?”

It was a polite but clear signal that the conversation was over, and Krum bowed once more before moving off, and Harry and Hermione continued on their way.

The couple was strolling through a particularly attractive display of roses when they were tracked down by their host, Monsieur Delacour.

He began by greeting them warmly and welcoming them once more to his estate. Then he lowered his voice and said he’d like to meet with them privately. On seeing their startled expressions, he clarified that he wished to offer his assistance.

“Actually, sir, we were going to ask a favor of you,” Harry responded after overcoming his surprise. The Frenchman nodded, and stroked his beard thoughtfully.

“You are staying ze night?” he asked to confirm their intentions.

“We planned to,” Harry replied as Hermione nodded.

“We will talk tomorrow, zen,” M. Delacour decided. He then summoned a house elf to take their luggage to their rooms. Harry relinquished his rucksack, but Hermione had only brought her handbag, which Harry noticed had been transfigured to match her outfit, with some fancy beadwork added. With some discomfort, both from restraining herself from commenting on the house elf issue, and from the awkward situation of appearing to have no luggage for an overnight stay, she shook her head to decline the offered assistance. Their host, misreading the situation, merely raised an eyebrow and inquired if the couple wished to share a room.

For an instant, Hermione considered accepting, as she very much wanted to share a bed with Harry, but propriety (and the knowledge that Mrs. Weasley would likely learn of the altered sleeping arrangements) won out and she shook her head with some reluctance. Harry quickly stammered that he’d make sure she got her things from his bag before they retired for the night.

Eventually, the guests all arrived and the time for the wedding was at hand. Harry and Hermione found themselves seated on Bill’s side of the aisle, behind a large assortment of Weasley relatives. Among the sea of red hair, one elderly woman particularly stood out, Ron’s Great-Aunt Muriel, who seemed to have an opinion on everything and everyone, and was not a bit shy about sharing it with whoever happened to be in the vicinity. This included her ire at having to come to France for the ceremony (“I don’t see why we should have to take a portkey here; England is a perfectly lovely place to have a wedding this time of year”), her goblin-made tiara, which Fleur was wearing (although the beautiful part-Veela, who had more fashion sense than anyone Hermione knew, evidently required extensive instruction from Muriel on exactly how it should be worn), and her disapproval of pretty much anything French, most especially the overly revealing outfits of the women present (“In my day, we certainly had the sense to keep our ankles covered”).

Harry shot an amused glance at Hermione, who turned her nose in the air and daintily crossed her ankles, taking care to adjust her floor-length gown to fall down to the tops of her shoes. He then reached over to give her hand a squeeze as they shared a grin. Across the aisle there was something of a stir as Viktor Krum took his seat, many of the guests twisting and craning their necks to get a better look at the international quidditch star.

The murmuring quieted down as Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Madame Delacour walked down the aisle, signaling that the ceremony was about to begin. Bill, Charlie, Fred, George, and Ron appeared at the front in fancy dress robes, and Harry grinned at the sight of Ron tugging uncomfortably at his neck. At that point the music changed, and the assembly turned to face the rear of the garden.

Ginny came down the aisle first, beaming at the people she knew in the crowd, and positively glowing in the attention she was receiving. Gabrielle was next, followed by two girls Harry and Hermione didn’t know, the first of whom appeared to be a Delacour cousin judging by the hair, and the other, the maid of honor, a close friend of Fleur’s from Beauxbatons. As Hermione had expected, all four had amazingly slender figures, which were set off to perfection by the sleek style and clingy golden fabric of the bridesmaids’ dresses.

Fleur, by contrast, was wearing a simple white strapless gown, which displayed her more pronounced curves so exquisitely that it was literally breathtaking. Hermione quickly concluded that the top must have been held in place by magic, as it seemed about to give way at any moment. She subsequently hoped that the practical joker nature of the bride’s new brothers-in-law would be suppressed; so that they wouldn’t be tempted to find out what would happen if they tried a Finite Incantatum on the garment.

“Ginevra’s dress is far too low cut,” came Auntie Muriel’s voice in a whisper that managed to carry to half of the assembly. A large grin blossomed on Ginny’s face and she stood up a little straighter, which thrust her chest out a bit more, as attention focussed once more on her. If anyone hadn’t noticed her new-found cleavage before, her great-aunt had pretty much guaranteed that they would now. Catching Hermione’s eye, she motioned toward Ron, who was glowering at anyone who he thought was appreciating his sister’s figure too much, and smiled and shot a wink at her best friend.

Hermione smiled back broadly, then noticed that Harry was also studying Ginny rather intently. “Harry, stop staring at Ginny’s chest,” she whispered, leaning closer to him.

“I wasn’t!” he protested. The look she gave him clearly communicated her skepticism. “I was thinking how goodthat dress would look on you.” Hermione just rolled her eyes and shook her head, but Harry, leaning his head over next to hers for this discussion, merely glanced straight down and grinned. Immediately below, directly in his line of vision, was firm evidence that supported his contention.

“No,” she insisted, blushing furiously. “I mean the color is not that good on me.”

“I wasn’t talking about the color,” he smirked.

“I know, but you need to consider more about a dress than how well it shows off a girl’s breasts,” she whispered back, elbowing him sharply in the ribs. “See how that gold brings out the copper highlights in Ginny’s hair?”

“Hermione, I really don’t think that any guy here is looking at her hair right now.”

“I know, but women take those things into consideration, and they’re ultimately the ones who decide what looks good,” she explained with a sigh. “Now, notice how that particular shade also sets off Gabrielle’s silvery blonde hair. And she also charmed her skin a little darker. Trust me, that color didn’t work on me at all.”

Harry leaned back thoughtfully, and both of them paid attention to the beginning of the ceremony for a few moments. The wizard who was presiding started by welcoming everyone to the celebration of the union of two souls.

Harry tuned him out and leaned back over to Hermione. “That light purple color looks good on you.”

Hermione smiled back at him and cast a discrete charm that allowed them to continue to converse without disturbing the other guests. “Thank you, that’s sweet of you to notice. Yes, pastels work well on me, especially during the summer when I have a bit of a tan. And by the way, it’s lilac.”

“Lilac?”

“Yes. This particular shade of light purple is called lilac.”

“OK.” Harry checked again to see how the ceremony was coming along, but the officiating wizard was still going strong with his speech, and it was in French now so he turned back to Hermione.

“Light blue looks great on you too.” Seeing Hermione’s questioning look he elaborated. “Your Yule Ball dress.”

Hermione’s eyes sparkled with love, and amusement. “Periwinkle,” she replied simply, her smile growing larger as she took his hand again and squeezed it hard, while nodding back to the front of the gathering.

The wizard was now asking Bill and Fleur, in French first and then in English, if they would take each other as husband and wife. In the front rows Mrs. Weasley on one side and Mrs. Delacour on the other had both lost it, and were crying softly into their husbands’shoulders.

Harry squeezed her hand back and Hermione turned and beamed at him; her eyes too were full of tears.

“Then I declare you bonded for life.”

Harry never saw Bill and Fleur’s first kiss as a married couple, never heard the shouts of congratulations and the applause. He was lost in Hermione’s glistening brown eyes, as she also was in his emerald green ones, realizing something that he had probably known deep down for some time now, but was now as clear as the bright blue sky overhead.

As the rest of the guests stood and turned to watch Bill and Fleur and the rest of the bridal party move back down the aisle, Harry reached out and took Hermione’s other hand as well, pulling her around to face him.

“I want this,” he stated simply.

“Harry?”

“I want this. More than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life. I want it … with you.”

“Oh Harry!” she gasped, realizing what he was saying.

“Hermione, as soon as this is over, when he’s gone, will you … will you marry me?”

“Yes!” was all she managed to gasp before her lips crashed against his and his arms came up to pull her as tightly to himself as he could, her arms following suit an instant later.

After a few seconds she pulled back from the kiss, conscious of the fact that they were in the middle of a crowd, and burrowed her head into his chest, squeezing her body to his for all she was worth. For his part, Harry leaned his head against hers, somewhat in a daze over what he’d just done.

“Should we tell anyone?” she wondered, a large part of her not wanting to share the complete sense of contentment she was feeling just then.

“How about we keep it to ourselves for now?” he suggested. “At least until tomorrow.”

“Good idea,” she agreed. “We don’t need to upstage Bill and Fleur.”

The rest of the day is something of a blur, as my mind was rather preoccupied with the decision we’d just made. We hardly left each other’s sides, clinging to each other, almost giddy with happiness. Fortunately for our secret, it was such a festive occasion that everyone else was also in high spirits and so didn’t notice the fairly subtle change in our behavior. There were a few moments that did stand out, though.

Once the bridal party had moved to the back of the area set aside for the festivities, the chairs were magically moved aside and tables appeared, with white table cloths and lovely arrangements of floral centerpieces, no two alike. After we’d eaten for a while, a dance floor emerged in the space where the ceremony had been held, and music began to play.

During the toasts to the bridal couple, once he and Fleur had accepted everyone’s best wishes, Bill stood and called for another toast, in honor of the event that had brought them together, the Tri Wizard Tournament. He began by noting the presence of some celebrities among their guests, and thanked Viktor and Harry for their attendance. Then he introduced Mr. and Mrs. Diggory, close friends and neighbors of his family, and asked for a moment of silence in remembrance of Cedric. While Harry didn’t particularly enjoy being singled out (up until that point he had managed to remain relatively inconspicuous), he did appreciate that Cedric received his due.

Remus and Tonks were at our table, along with a few other Order members. Tonks was wearing one of the more striking outfits among the guests, in line with her rather flamboyant character. I knew that she had spent nearly an hour experimenting with different hair colors and skin tones, combining them with an assortment of fabrics and colors. She had considered a shocking shade of purple, which would have been pretty bold, but settled for bright red hair and a scarlet and gold gown. She was also somewhat bustier than normal.

The real surprise came when she leaned over and whispered that she and Remus had something important to tell us. They’re going to get married too! When I asked how they could do that with the laws that had been passed, she informed me that the laws were considerably less restrictive in France, and that they decided to do it while they were here. And Remus wants Harry to stand up for him. To keep things simple, (and because Fleur is going to be otherwise occupied!) I’m going to stand up for Tonks as well. What an amazing day this was turning out to be!

Ron also learned some important information.

Ron had joined Harry and Hermione at their table, and the trio was excitedly discussing the news about Remus and Tonks under the cover of a Muffliato spell when Viktor Krum approached their table to request a dance with Hermione. She politely but firmly declined, stating that as she was attending with Harry, she naturally expected to dance with him for the most part. With that she pulled him out onto the dance floor, leaving the jilted Bulgarian seeker behind with their best friend, who had at one time been one of his most fervent fans. Together, they stood looking over the rest of the wedding guests, with Ron wondering if he should ask a quidditch question, or if Krum would be tired of hearing those. Fortunately, he didn’t have to wonder very long.

“Who is pretty blonde?” Krum asked suddenly, gesturing out to where Luna skipped and whirled by herself, seemingly dancing to music only she could hear.

“Oh, that’s Loon … er Luna. Luna Lovegood,” Ron replied quickly.

Krum’s interest in his potential next conquest quickly waned. “Lovegood?” he scowled. “Like that man over there?”

Ron turned in the direction indicated and spotted Luna’s father, incongruously dressed in lemon yellow robes that matched Luna’s gown. “Uh, yeah. That’s her dad,” he replied with some puzzlement at the sudden change in attitude of his companion. “They’re neighbors of ours – live just over the hill from us.”

“If this vere not a vedding, I vould challenge him to a duel!” Viktor blurted out vehemently. “He is vearingGrindelvald’s sign.”

Completely taken aback at this disproportionately hostile attitude toward a man he considered extremely eccentric, but harmless, Ron took a closer look at the offending emblem. His eyes widened and his breath caught in his throat for an instant. There, on a chain hanging around his neighbor’s neck, was the triangular symbol from the Gaunt family ring!

“Erm, actually, he’s a bit, shall we say, odd,” Ron stammered in an attempt to calm down the irate Bulgarian. “My guess is that he doesn’t even realize that. Grindelwald wasn’t really a big issue in Britain, you know.” Harry and Hermione needed to hear about this as soon as possible!

Krum scowled for a short time while he considered that explanation, then shrugged and continued his perusal of the wedding guests.

“Ah! And who is very pretty red haired girl over there?”

“Which one?” Ron asked, breaking away from his musing on the mysterious icon. The place was positively overflowing with redheads, after all.

“The bridesmaid.” Viktor motioned to where Ginny was standing with one of Fleur’s cousins, flirting a little bit, and looking far too attractive in Ron’s opinion.

“That’s my sister.” The challenging tone in Ron’s voice caused the celebrated seeker to raise his eyebrows.

“I see. She is quite lovely, don’t you agree? And just how old is she?”

“She’s only fifteen,” Ron answered through clenched teeth, withholding the additional information that Ginny would turn sixteen in two weeks. It had been bad enough back during fourth year when this famous git had gone after Hermione, who had been three years younger than him. Ginny was nearly two years younger still, clearly far too young for the more experienced international quidditch star.

“Really? She seems quite mature for her age. You must be very proud of her.” Viktor had dealt with jealous brothers before, and knew just which buttons to push. “I believe Ivould like to get to know her better.”

Ron could only watch helplessly as the older man turned and made his way through the crowd, a wolf stalking his prey. Too bad Cho Chang isn’t here , he thought in dismay. She’d be perfect for him . Looking around desperately, he decided that he should be out on the dance floor to keep a better eye on the two of them. Hurrying out past the last tables, a flash of yellow caught his eye.

“Luna! Erm … would you like to dance with me?”

Luna’s large blue eyes went even wider than normal for a moment before she recovered her detached manner. “Why Ronald, that would be lovely.”

Meanwhile, Harry was deciding that dancing with Hermione was considerably better than his only previous experience with the activity, and something that he wouldn’t mind doing a lot more of. While for the most part he focused his attention on his partner and the knowing looks of intimacy they were sharing, he occasionally glanced around to observe the other dancers out on the floor.

“Tonks really stands out in that red number,” he commented, trying to put into practice his newfound knowledge of color coordination. “It seems to suit her.” Hermione smiled and nodded, pleased that he was making the effort to learn something new for her.

“Red’s another color that looks good on you,” Harry offered. Hermione cocked her head in surprise.

“You’re right. It’s one of the few bright colors I can wear. I’m impressed that you’re taking this so seriously.” She looked thoughtful for a moment. “I suppose you’re thinking of the red outfit I wore the day we left Privet Drive?”

“Actually I was thinking of something smaller than that,” he grinned.

She gave a small huff and hit him in the arm. “Harry Potter, honestly. Are you referring to the underwear I was wearing that day?” Then a puzzled expression crossed her face. “But you never saw that on me, actually. You only saw it after I’d turned into you.” She grinned back at him. “Perhaps you should say you look good in red,” she teased.

“Nope. I wasn’t talking about that either, although I’m positive that underwear looks better on you than it did on me,” he countered. “I was thinking about the red bikini you wore last summer.” She blushed very prettily at that. She remembered quite well how he couldn’t take his eyes off her during the time they spent on the beach, on what was definitely the best holiday of her life.

“Although I suppose it couldn’t be something as simple as red,” he sighed in mock resignation.

“Crimson,” Hermione replied, laughing lightly at his antics and playing along. “My bikini was crimson. And the color in Tonks’s dress is scarlet – scarlet and gold.”

“Gryffindor colors,” Harry decided. “Is that the house she was in?”

“I don’t think she’s ever said,” Hermione responded after a moment’s thought. “Just that she was a troublemaker.”

Harry looked over again at the young Auror dancing with his former Defense professor and decided to change the subject, as there was another aspect of these outfits that he was curious about. “Erm … is it just my imagination or are weddings the occasion for witches to … ah … show off their … you know?” He shot a glance at the top of Hermione’s gown.

Hermione laughed and pulled him closer for a brief hug. “It would certainly appear so,” she agreed. Lowering her voice she continued, “Do you like what you see?”

Harry tightened his grip, enjoying the feel of her body pressed into his. “I certainly like the looks of the one I’m holding right now,” he murmured back

“I’m glad to hear that,” Hermione bantered in return, leaning her head against his chest. “I … oh my!” She pulled her head back abruptly and Harry turned to look in the direction she was staring. There, over on the edge of the dance floor, Ginny and Viktor were locked in each other’s arms, the normally dour dark-haired man smiling faintly at the slightly star struck expression on the younger girl’s face as she leaned into him.

“I’m worried about the way he’s looking at her,” Hermione decided. Before Harry could ask what she meant she clarified further, “I’ve seen that look before. Let’s switch partners when the song ends.”

Krum was surprised, but pleasantly so, to find himself dancing with the woman he had just been turned down by only a short time before. Ginny was also surprised, but had no objection to dancing with Harry.

“You look great,” Harry declared once they were by themselves. Ginny blushed and accepted his compliment with a shy smile. “That gold dress really goes well with your hair.” This time the youngest Weasley gaped for a moment before recovering and smiling weakly. Her hair? That’s what he noticed about this dress? The color? What about…?

“All right, who are you and what have you done with Harry Potter?” she demanded, breaking into a grin as he grinned back at her question. “Since when do you know anything about color? Not that you’re wrong, of course,” she added, flipping her long shiny red hair back over her shoulder in an exaggerated motion, followed by a light laugh.

“Hermione’s been giving me lessons,” he admitted, triggering a heartier laugh from his companion. He paused while they maneuvered around some other dancing couples.

“So, you and Krum …?” he tried to ask nonchalantly.

Ginny’s eyes narrowed.

“I told you last Christmas that I didn’t need another brother, Harry Potter,” she stated testily. “I don’t need rescuing from the famous quidditch star. I’m well aware that he’s just looking for a pretty girl for the day. I can handle myself.”

Harry shook his head apologetically. “I know you can, Ginny. And ordinarily I wouldn’t say anything.” Ginny relaxed, but only slightly, her eyes still demanding further explanation. “It’s just that Hermione was concerned.”

“Hermione? Not Ron?” Ginny queried in surprise. Hermione wasn’t normally the overprotective type, at least as far as she was concerned. (Harry was a different story.) The older girl had generally been supportive of her relationships.

Harry nodded. “She wants to talk to you.”

At the end of the dance Hermione and Viktor rejoined them and Hermione suggested that Ginny accompany her to the ladies room. Harry just shrugged at his fellow champion and turned away to find Ron again. To his amazement, he spotted his best mate, not at the table shoveling down food, but out on the dance floor with Luna Lovegood! Wondering if his friend was finally starting to see something in the unusual Ravenclaw, he returned to their table to wait.

“Really Hermione, I’ve dated more than you have,” Ginny insisted once the two girls were alone. “While I’m quite certain Harry would never take advantage of you, or even touch you if you didn’t want him to, I’ve had to fight off plenty of roaming hands. And since the only other guy you went out with was Viktor, and it was just the one dance, I think I’m the more experienced one here.”

“Well, you’re certainly right about Harry, and Viktor was a perfect gentleman, so you don’t need to worry along those lines,” Hermione explained. “But those elegant manners can put you off your guard and before you know it … let’s just say that Viktor might want to move quite a bit faster, and in a different way than what you’ve been accustomed to. I don’t know if it’s a cultural thing or what.”

“Just what are you saying, then?” Ginny asked, now confused.

“You know that Viktor and I only had one real date, right?” the older girl asked. Ginny nodded. “Well, the next thing I know he’s asking me to come to Bulgaria to meet his parents.”

“OK, that does seem a bit fast,” Ginny acknowledged.

“I turned him down, of course,” Hermione continued. “But the next time I saw him he was talking about marriage.” Ginny’s jaw dropped.

“You’re kidding! But what about Harry?”

Hermione was taken aback. Surely Ginny hadn’t already figured out that Harry had just asked her to marry him? Then she realized what her younger friend was asking.

“Yes, that’s the even crazier part,” she agreed. “That happened while I was going with Harry!” Ginny could only shake her head in amazement.

“So anyway, I just wanted to give you a heads up so you aren’t caught by surprise like I was, if anything more comes of this.” Hermione concluded.

“Yeah, thanks, I’ll keep it in mind. I’m not looking for anything serious, just a little fun.” Ginny pondered this information while the two of them started back toward the reception area. “Oh, Hermione? One more thing.” Hermione looked up expectantly. “How good a kisser is he?”

Hermione blushed, then shot her friend a sly grin. “You’ll just have to find that out for yourself.”

By the time they returned, Ron and Luna had joined Harry, and the three of them had gone over to talk to Luna’s father after Ron grabbed a sandwich. Ginny excused herself to rejoin Viktor before Ron had a chance to object, and Hermione moved over to Harry and ducked under his arm, wrapping it around her shoulder. He grinned down at her while Ron rolled his eyes and Luna smiled softly at them.

By then Harry had asked a few subtle questions, and determined that XenophiliusLovegood had no idea that the symbol he wore had anything to do with Grindelwald, but rather maintained that it was associated with something much, much older and more powerful. Evidently the man was as paranoid as Moody had been, because he refused to expand on the subject in public. Luna immediately suggested that the trio come to her house to visit sometime (although her attention was fixed firmly on Ron as she made this offer) and her father agreed wholeheartedly, promising to tell them more at that time.

Having concluded this little bit of business, Hermione suggested that Ron dance one dance with her, and Harry promptly offered his arm to Luna, inviting her to do the same. At the end of that song they switched, and Ron found himself once again with an eager dance partner, while his two best friends grinned at him and spun away together.

All in all, it was a glorious afternoon. Several times I told Harry we didn’t need to dance any more, but he just responded that he knew it was something I enjoyed, and he was glad to do it if it made me happy. I love that man so much! Bill danced one dance with me while Fleur danced with Harry. I took the opportunity to ask him about the charms and runes on the portkey terminals. Fleur, on the other hand, had figured out from our body language that something had changed in our relationship, and took the opportunity to tease Harry about it, so he was quite flushed at the end of the dance. Of course, every male who danced with her had that reaction, but in Harry’s case it wasn’t due to her Veela charm, as he’s pretty much immune to it. Instead, she got him riled up by making suggestive remarks about certain activities he might want to engage in with me. She is quite the tease, but I think there were some tips there that I might want him to try out sometime.

At one point we noticed that Ron had been collared by his Great-Aunt Muriel, and she seemed to be going on and on about something. After he finally got away he told us that she had some very interesting things to say about the new books on Dumbledore, although he wasn’t quite sure what to make of it.

He said she acted like she had some first-hand knowledge of the events surrounding the death of Dumbledore’s mother and sister, and made it sound like the more sensationalistic book had the right of it. We’ll have to talk more about that when we finally get a chance to read the books.

Near the end of the day we took him aside and told him Harry had asked me to marry him. That didn’t quite go as well as it might have.

“Bloody hell, mate!” Ron exclaimed in shock. “Are you insane?” Hermione decided that two possible reactions to that insensitive comment would be to burst into tears or burst into laughter. Since she was in such a good mood, she decided on the latter.

“Oh Ron, it’s so lovely to hear your opinion on the desirability of being married to me. It’s certainly a good thing that I’m marrying Harry instead of you, don’t you think?”

Harry was not quite so amused. He wrapped his arm around the love of his life and pulled her to his side, and shot a glare at Ron that should have sent shudders through his friend, had he not still been trying to comprehend what Hermione had just said.

“On the contrary, Ron Weasley, I think this is the most sensible decision I’ve ever made in my life,” he snapped. “If anything, you should probably question Hermione’s sanity for agreeing to marry a walking trouble magnet like me.

Ron only then realized the precarious position his ill-considered response had put him in, but Hermione spared him from any serious injury by putting both hands on Harry’s head and jerking it toward her.

“I disagree.” With that succinct rebuttal she pulled his face down to hers and proceeded to snog his brains out. When they finally surfaced several minutes later, their best friend had wisely taken his leave.

Later in the evening, after the festivities had died down somewhat, Harry and I managed to ‘accidentally’ get lost in the Delacour mansion, and ended up in an empty room all by ourselves. I took the opportunity to thoroughly reward him for the wonderful things he said during the day, and to celebrate the new ‘development’ in our relationship. (We’re going to get married!!!)

Along the way, I showed him the effect of the sticking charm on my top, as I had promised, and he agreed that it looked almost indecent. I also demonstrated how loose the top became when the spaghetti straps accidentally slipped off my shoulders, and invited him to explore a bit to determine the exact extent of my suntan. While he was doing that I explained how I’d sunbathed privately at the Burrow, and suggested that he might wish to join me in the future. He liked that idea very much. We also engaged in a lot of nonverbal communication.

What we did not do was discuss the more serious things we had learned at the reception, such as the things we heard from Mr. Lovegood and Aunt Muriel. There will be plenty of time for that later.

-xox-XOX-XOX-xox-