Harry arrived at The Burrow on the evening following his seventeenth birthday. He had made it clear to the Dursley’s that this time he wouldn’t be coming back again. Predictably, they hadn’t cared. They just gave a pathetic goodbye as he stepped out the door. In all the years he had lived with them, perhaps naively, he hoped that he might have meant more to them, but what did it matter? They were no longer a part of his life.

“Who’s there?” Arthur Weasley’s voice protruded from behind the door.

“Harry,” Harry said, trying not to laugh.

“Prove it!” Mr Weasley said accusingly.

“Erm…Mr Weasley, we haven’t decided what my password is going to be yet.”

“Oh right, of course. I suppose I better give you the benefit of the doubt for now then. Come on in.” Harry stepped through the door and took in the woody smell he associated with the Weasley household.

“Just head up to Ron’s room, he should still be awake”

Harry nodded and began up the staircase. He hadn’t actually planned to visit The Burrow this summer, but Ron had insisted that he had to be there for Bill and Fleur’s wedding. Hermione had also been pretty keen on the idea of going to the wedding. Then again, Harry thought all girls like weddings, another fact that made them quite a curious species. To be fair, he was kind of looking forward to going to going to a wedding not containing any of his relatives. Harry had only ever been allowed to a wedding once before and that was only because Uncle Vernon’s brother, Ernest, had grown quite fond of him. In turn, Harry was pretty fond of him. Ernest looked a lot like his older brother, apart from the fact that he was a professional rugby player and therefore, physically, much fitter then Vernon. However, after that wedding, Harry had been forbidden to contact “that prat”, as Vernon had put it. It was probably something to do with the fact that Ernest found it highly amusing that the funny smelling old women, Aunt Marge had forced Harry to dance with, had grown quite a thick beard by the end of the song. Uncle Vernon did not find it the least bit funny. But that was all in the past now. He never had to see any of them again, if he didn’t want to.

“Hi, Harry.” His stomach gave a sudden jolt. There, in front of him on the stairs was Ginny. She seemed just as she always was.

“How’ve you been?” Harry asked, pulling her into a loose hug. They used to hug before they got together; there was no reason why they shouldn’t be able to now.

“I’m ok I guess. It’s hard to really know sometimes. Does that sound weird to you?” They released each other from the hug.

“No,” said Harry simply, “that’s exactly how I’m feeling too.” She stared at him for a moment.

“I’ve decided,” Ginny said quietly, “I’m not going back to Hogwarts. There’s nothing left for me there anymore and nobody tells you anything. At least if I’m here I might hear something about what’s happening.”

“I didn’t think you would go back.” Again, they found themselves staring at each other.

“I'd better go up to Ron’s room now,” Harry said with a slight air of awkwardness. He gave her shoulder a slight squeeze as he stepped past her. It was nice, he thought, that they could still talk normally with each other. Whatever happened, Harry still wanted her in his life. It hurt that he couldn’t be with her, but he knew that the pain would be far worse if anything happened to her because of him. It was definitely better this way, for all their sakes.
He climbed the last couple of stairs to Ron’s attic room and went to push open the door, but something stopped him.

“I just wish that things were different.” Ron sounded oddly frustrated.

“I understand what you’re saying, but we can still be there for Harry, even if we-” Hermione didn’t get time to finish before Ron interrupted.

“Can we though? Do you really think he will let us? God, I should never have brought this up. It’s more trouble than it’s worth.”

“You don’t really mean that, do you?” Hermione asked quietly. Harry stood listening, trying to make sense of what they were saying. Both Ron and Hermione had fallen quiet. Then, almost silently, Ron whispered,

“No, of course I didn‘t.”

“So what are we going to do then?”

“We could just not tell him.”
Hermione snorted. “We can’t do that to him. It’d be too unfair. Anyway, if we’re going to do this, we have to do it properly. No sneaking around behind his back”

“So-so you want to?” Ron sounded nervous.

“Of course I do.” For the second time, the room fell silent but it was a different sort of silence. Harry sneaked a glance around the door and found, slightly to his own surprise, the sight before him did not shock him. Ron and Hermione were sitting on the floor at the end of Ron’s bed, arms around each other, sharing a kiss. Feeling invading, Harry crept back down the stairs and again found himself bumping into Ginny as she emerged from a door.

“What are you doing?” She giggled.

“I’m pretending I only just got here,” he whispered. She gave him a questioning look, so he began a quick and hushed explanation.

“Took them long enough,” she laughed. Grabbing his wrist, she led him up closer to Ron’s room.

“Oh hi, Harry,” she said loudly, giving him a wink. There was a sudden clatter from the room upstairs. Harry caught on quickly.

“Hi, Ginny,” he said equally as loudly.

“I’m just heading off to bed,” Ginny said and added quietly, “You can probably go up there now. Night, Harry.”

“Night, Gin,” He said, trying not to laugh. He marvelled at her quick thinking as he retraced his steps to Ron’s room. That was probably one of the reasons Harry liked her so- no, he couldn’t afford to think like that anymore. Not until the war was over, if he was still alive, then they could be together. Until then, Harry had to learn a little restraint. Anyway, saving the world from Voldemort was definitely more important than his love life. Wasn’t it?
As Harry walked into Ron’s room, it took a stupendous effort to keep a straight face. Ron was now sitting on his bed, fiddling with a hole in his duvet cover and Hermione was sitting in a chair by the window pretending to be surprised.

“Oh hi, Harry. I didn’t know you were here yet,” she said, standing up to give him a hug.

“Hey, mate,” Ron said with an odd tone to his voice, but added genuinely, “How are you, mate?” Hermione took a step back so she could look at him more clearly.

“I’m ok,” Harry said succinctly, even though he was a great many more things than ok. He couldn’t’t find words suitable to say how he really was feeling. Hermione seemed to sense this.

“I understand what you mean,” she said with a vague smile. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry could see Ron making some very odd gestures.

“Listen, Harry,” Hermione said, also looking at Ron. “The three of us have something we need to talk about”

“Ok,” Harry said. He and Hermione sat with Ron on his bed. There was an awkward silence in which Ron and Hermione stuttered uselessly. Harry said nothing; instead, he sat and watched them getting more and more nervous.

“The thing is, Harry,” Ron said, finally managing to string a half decent sentence together.

“We’ve got something to tell you that potentially - well it might - it could possibly effect our journey together.”

“This sounds important.”

“It is,” Hermione said, nodding furiously.

“It’s just that we need to know how you feel before we get in too deep. Basically, we’re asking your permission.” Ron accidentally ripped the hole in his duvet cover so it was much bigger. He pulled out his wand and muttered a spell, causing the hole to mend itself.

“What you really need to understand is that Ron and I, we’re still going to be there for you no matter what,” Hermione said quietly. Harry was passed his stage of amusement. Watching his best friends acting like this, well it proved that there were strong emotions between them. Of course, Harry had known that they liked each other as more than friends, few people didn’t, but this was clearly more than just like and Harry found he was pleased for them. After all, Ron had not objected when Harry and Ginny got together and they didn’t’t ask permission. It really was time for Harry to return the favour. Still, he might as well let them squirm for just a little longer.

“What on earth are you talking about?” he asked in mock confusion.

“How would you feel about me and Hermione being…together? You know, like a couple?” Hermione was biting her lip out of nerves, closely surveying Harry. Ron, on the other hand, had become oddly interested in his sock.

“I think,” Harry said slowly, “that I might just be ok with that.” He smiled as their faces lit up in disbelief. “On two conditions,” Harry added as they started laughing happily. “No being disgustingly soppy in front of me.”

“Sounds fair,” Ron said, still laughing. Hermione nodded through a daft grin.

“Secondly,” Harry said, noticing the sudden seriousness in his tone. Ron and Hermione listened carefully. “I know that you don’t want to think about this right now, but if you two do break up whilst we’re still fighting this war, you have to stay friends because I need you to be able to get along if this is going to work. If you don’t, I’m going on alone.”
Hermione slipped her hand into Ron’s. “I promise that we won’t let you down,” she whispered.

“I second that,” Ron said.

“Oh, and one more thing, Hermione,” Harry said, smiling. "No calling him Won-Won.”

The following day, Harry awoke to Mrs. Weasley throwing a bath towel at him.

“Get in the shower now, Harry,” she barked. “You have ten minutes. Ron, you get in as soon as he’s out.” She bustled out of the room, leaving the two boys in a state of shock.

“You'd better shower quick, Harry,” Ron said, rolling his eyes at his watch. “We only have five hours to get to the wedding hall.”

It was the day of Bill and Fleur’s wedding and the Weasley house was in a state of chaos. As all the men took turns showering, Mrs. Weasley and Hermione ran around like a flock of headless chickens. Ginny had been kidnapped at about four in the morning by an emotional Fleur and taken to secret location to get ready in her bridesmaid dress. Harry had heard her protesting groggily as she had been dragged out of bed and forced into the fireplace. He laughed as he imagined her in a house full of Fleur’s relatives. Poor Ginny. However, Harry barely had time to breathe, let alone think about Ginny’s welfare.

With two hours to spare, Harry was already in his dress robes as was Ron. Hermione, on the other hand, was last seen running through the kitchen with a towel on her head, clutching a dressing gown around her. Bill was constantly jumping from room to room checking everyone’s progress. All tempers were pretty stretched.

“You idiot, Fred!” Charlie bellowed.

“I’m not Fred!” George yelled back.

“What’s going on out here?” Mr. Weasley joined the shouting match.

“This git just stood on my button hole.”

“No, I didn’t. I stood on his flower-ouch!”

“Don’t hit him, Charlie!” Mr. Weasley sounded furious. “There, good as new. I thought you could have done that without the fuss, or did Fred tread on your wand too?”

“I’m not Fred!” George shouted again. Ron shook his head.

“I hate my family,” he moaned.

“I’ll trade you mine,” Harry challenged with small smile.

Finally, with just fifteen minutes left, Hermione emerged looking-

“Stunning,” gasped Ron. He stood up and kissed her. “Stunning.”

“You don’t scrub up to bad yourself,” she said, blushing slightly.

Harry had to admit, she did look gorgeous in her long, deep purple dress that left her shoulders bare, yet she remained sophisticated and modest. She smoothed her hair and put it in a neat knot letting only a few stray curls tease her cheeks. To be fair, Ron didn’t look bad either. He was wearing neat, navy blue dress robes that Fred and George had bought him a while back. It was suddenly apparent how much he had filled over the last year. He no longer appeared lanky or stretched, but had broader shoulders, and a thicker chest and limbs that seemed the correct length. Harry, once again, found himself in green dress robes. Mrs. Weasley had insisted that he would look “so very handsome” in them. In truth, Harry didn't mind. In fact, it meant he was saved from picking out his own, which he wasn’t looking forward to.

“CHARLIE!” yelled Bill in a menacing voice. “CHARLIE! CHAR-”

“Yes?” Charlie said politely, having been standing next to Bill the entire time he had been shouting.

“Do you have the-”

“Rings? Yes, they are right here…just like they were two minutes ago.”

“Sorry,” Bill said, dropping his head.

“That’s okay. You’re allowed to be a little apprehensive.”

“Just try to not kill any of us,” said Fred, patting Bill’s shoulder.

“I’m pretty sure that’s illegal, even on your wedding day,” George added.

Bill pulled his brothers into a group hug. “You guys are the best,” he said emotionally. Ron let out a loud fake cough.

“And you as well, little brother,” Bill said, separating himself from the others to give Ron a hug. Hermione giggled.

“The carriages are here, everyone,” Mrs. Weasley squealed excitedly. It was traditional for people to arrive at weddings in horse drawn carriages in the wizarding world and Fleur’s parents had gone all out. In the front garden stood two magnificent silver carriages, each with a beautiful white horse to pull it along.

“Won’t the Muggles wonder what’s going on?” Harry queried. The carriages weren’t exactly discreet.

“They can’t see them,” Mr. Weasley said proudly. “I charmed them myself.” He gave a little chuckle. “Bless their hearts.”

They arrived at the hall surprisingly quickly. A few of the guests had already arrived and were sitting politely in the chairs.

“It’s perfect,” Hermione said, twirling around.

“What is?” asked Harry, glancing at an equally bewildered Ron.

“This place,” she gasped, awestruck.

Harry and Ron looked around. It didn’t take long for them to realise what she was talking about. Swans were sculpted out of ice and were nested in the centre of an arrangement of white lilies, and a white satin type carpet had been laid down in the centre, bordered with deep red roses forming a glistening aisle. But what really amazed Harry was the water that was magically spiralling across the walls and finishing in a delicate waterfall that poured to nowhere just in front of where Bill and Fleur were to stand.

“Every girl dreams of having a wedding like this,” whispered Hermione. Ron slipped his hand into hers. At that moment, Harry knew he wouldn’t ever need to worry about them breaking up. The looks on their faces told him so.

“So, who's leading the ceremony?” Harry asked casually, trying to inspire conversation.

“Binder Obligit, I think. Yeah, that’s right. He’s a nice guy, getting on a bit, could use a few more teeth, but a nice guy all the same,” Ron said thoughtfully.

“Binder? Not vicar?” Once again, Harry found something else in the magical world he didn’t know about. How on earth am I expected to kill Lord Voldemort when I have about as much knowledge as a pineapple? Harry thought.

“Binders do the same job as vicars,” Hermione eagerly explained. “Except it’s not all done it’s not all done with words, like the way Muggles do. There’s a special charm that’s performed instead that binds, hence binder, the souls of the two people together. I don’t really understand all the details, but it sounds so romantic.”

Ron snorted. “It’s not that romantic. When the two people are bound, it just means they’re registered as a couple, their bank vaults join together and she’ll take his name. It’s more of a contract than anything else,” he said dispassionately.

“There’s more to it than that, Ron,” Hermione said, sounding a little insulted. “An ancient magic is used that only the binders can ever hope to understand.”
Ron shrugged. “If you say so.”

It wasn’t long before all the guests had arrived and were seated, ready for the wedding to begin.

“Please stand for the entry of the bride,” announced the elderly binder. As everyone rose to their feet, the live orchestra began to play a slow and warming song. Fleur Delacour seemed to float through the through the large door, arm linked with her father. Harry could not help but notice how much she looked like some sort of fallen angel. Her dress was the same sort that Muggle women wear, but they never looked that good, that was for sure. However, it did not take long for Harry’s gaze to be torn away from Fleur, as walking just as gracefully behind was Ginny. She wore a dress of deep red material that clung gently to every contour of her body. Her long ginger hair was lifted off her face and was tied in a knot except for a single flick that was tucked behind her left ear; all this was completed by a red rose sitting on the side of the knot. She followed Fleur up the aisle to the soft music from the live instruments, a shy smile creeping up on her face. She caught Harry’s eye as she walked past, and for the first time his resolve wavered. Finally, he had to admit the thing he had been denying since Dumbledore’s funeral. He was in love with her.

Bill and Fleur stared at each other, saying nothing. The binder smiled at them.

“William Arthur Weasley, please state your vows for us all to hear.”

Bill exhaled slowly and began to speak, “Fleur, you are quite simply the most amazing person I have ever met, and here we are on our wedding day. I never thought I could be so lucky. When most people look at you, they see nothing past your stunning beauty, but you have let me pass that, you’ve let me see you for who you really are.” He paused for a moment to wipe a tear off his face. “I know that there is still even more to you and I want to spend the rest of my life discovering you and loving you.” A small laugh showed he had finished. The binder gave his wand a small flick, releasing sparks over Fleur that instantly vanished as though being absorbed.

“Fleur Felicity Delacour, please state your vows for us all to hear.”

Wiping tears from her face, Fleur started her vows, “Bill, we ‘ave already been through so much togezzer.” She ran a finger down one of the scars on his face. “But I still ‘ave not seen enough. You are brave, clever and kind. I do not believe anuzzer man exists anywhere in zis world. I am lucky to ’ave even met you. I think eet must ’ave been fate, because things like zis are not whims of chance. Love is not an accident. I want to spend the rest of my days living wiz what fate ’as given to me. Zat is you, Bill, you are my fate.” Tears were now looking freely from both of them and most of the people watching. Once again, the binder flicked his wand; this time showering Bill with the gold sparks.

“Do you have the rings?” he said, addressing Charlie.

“Absolutely,” he said, handing the ring to the binder. The binder handed one of the rings to Bill to place on Fleur’s finger. The moment it touched her skin, it shone bright blue. Fleur the did the same to Bill.

“I am honoured and thrilled to pronounce you husband and wife. Now kiss her before I do.”

The binder beamed at them. Bill did as he was told and swooped down to kiss her.

“It really was a beautiful ceremony,” said an emotional Mrs. Weasley to her son and new daughter-in-law. They had listened to the speeches, eaten the food, and had been taken outside into a large marquee that had been set up as a dimly lit dance floor.

“I think the newlyweds should grace us with the first dance,” Mr. Weasley’s voice echoed from the stage as he held his wand to his throat. Bill and Fleur obliged instantly as the band began a slow song. They revolved slowly, swaying and noses pressed together, wearing huge smiles. Somehow, Harry had expected the day to be more dramatic, but it was nice. There was something very warming about it.

When the last note was played, Bill leapt onto the stage.

“On request of my new wife, everyone has to join us for the next dance, and she means everyone. Anybody who doesn’t, we will hand pick you a partner and force you to dance at wand point.” A nervous laughter erupted in the crowd of people as, once again, the band struck a slow song. Before Harry even had a chance to move, Gabrielle Delacour had stepped in front of him.

“You will dance wiz me,” she ordered and pulled him onto the dance floor. Ron and Hermione cast him odd looks as they too stepped onto the floor. He knew what they were thinking, it was exactly what he was thinking.

“You ‘ave strong arms, I think,” she said, steering him in a circle.

“Er-great,” Harry said, craning his neck over the crowd. Ginny stood alone at the edge throwing nervous glances at an old man making his way towards her.

“Listen, Gabrielle.”

“What eez it, ‘arry?”

“As much as I’m enjoying this dance,” he said cautiously. “I think I should be dancing with someone else.”

“I think I understand,” she said, smiling. Harry nodded and walked away, navigating carefully through the twirling couples.

“You want to dance?” he asked Ginny.

“Absolutely,” she said, relieved. Harry put a hand on her waist and they joined the gentle rotation.

“Thanks,” she said gratefully. “That man was beginning to scare me.”
Harry chuckled. “Anytime,” he said.

“So, when…” Ginny cut herself off mid-sentence.
“When what?”

“When are you leaving?” Her eyes filled with an odd sorrow.

Harry sighed deeply. “The day after tomorrow.”

“I see.”

He had half expected her to cry or plead him not to go, but she didn’t. Instead, she simply looked at him with the same hard look in her eye he had seen so many times.

“Promise me,” she said, “that you will come back.”

“I promise,” he said simply, but then thought about what he was saying. “I promise that I’ll try, but I can’t say that I definitely will.”

Ginny nodded in understanding. “That’s good enough.”

Harry pulled her into a tight hug. He really did love her, that was clear to him now. He could feel her clinging to the back of his robes. As they stood there, neither spoke for fear of ruining the moment. However, reluctantly, they had to let go of each other eventually. It hurt more than Harry had ever imagined that it would, but it had to be done, for both their sakes. Even though he didn’t know how he was supposed to go on without her, let alone stop thinking about her, he would do all everything in his power to protect from anything, from anyone.


At eleven that night, Harry sat alone outside the marquee, enjoying the last real peace he might experience for some time. Looking up at the bright stars, he thought for the first time about the fact he may well not come out of this war alive. He was surprised to find it didn’t scare him half as much as he thought it would.

“What are you doing out here alone?” said Lupin from somewhere behind him.

“Thinking,” Harry said shortly.

“Has Arthur told you yet?”

“Told me what?” he answered quickly.

Lupin seemed mildly taken aback by his abruptness. He looked away from Harry and stared up at the night sky. A glazed expression was on his face.

“Dumbledore’s will was found yesterday. It was hidden in a drawer with a stash of sherbet lemons.”

Harry laughed despite himself. Lupin also chuckled quietly.

“We’re expected at headquarters tomorrow for the reading.” Lupin sighed. Harry didn’t say anything. It was stupid really, but he had never considered the fact that Dumbledore had a will. Would he really have left anything to him anyway? When it al came down to it, Harry was still only a student.

“Nearly a full moon,” Lupin whispered, breaking the empty silence. Harry looked at his former Professor. A shadow seemed to be lingering somewhere behind his eyes, giving him the essence of a haunted man. It seemed a shame. It always took Lupin weeks to recover from each transformation, and when he finally did, the whole process would start again.

“Must be easier now you have Tonks about,” said Harry.

The haunted look left Lupin almost instantly.

“Oh, it is.” he smiled. “I know how much she’s sacrificed to be with me, but I can see how happy she is too, and that makes me happier.”

“Having someone there really takes the strain off things.”

“Sounds like you’re speaking from experience,” Lupin said. Even in the darkness, Harry could see his eyebrows were raised.

“I suppose I am,” Harry mumbled.

“We don’t happen to be talking about a certain red haired girl you seemed pretty close to on the dance floor, are we?” Lupin was inspecting Harry closely, who nodded sadly.

“I broke it off with her at Dumbledore’s funeral.”

“To protect her, I presume.”

Again, Harry nodded. Lupin’s eyes remained fixed on him.

"You know, Harry, it doesn't do any good to push away the people you care for."

“This isn’t like you and Tonks,” Harry snapped, finding himself suddenly angry.“It’s way different.”

“In what way?” Lupin said in his ever calm voice.

“Because you know what is coming. I don’t. I am not dragging her into that!”

“Still though-”

“Still nothing! If I stay with Ginny, I will be leading her head first into danger none of us are ready for. So, if I can stop her, I will.” Harry’s clenched fists shook as he spoke.

“And you have to face this danger?”

Harry stood up and walked a few paces away from Lupin. With his back still turned away, he said gruffly, “Yes.”

Silence rang between the two men until Lupin suddenly scrambled to his feet.

“You’re going after Voldemort, aren’t you?” His voice cracked as he spoke. Harry said nothing. Lupin took this to mean the worst.

“Harry, what are you thinking? You’ll be killed for sure!” he pleaded.

“I’m willing to make that sacrifice if I have to.” This time it was Harry’s turn to be calm.

“You really are the chosen one.”

“That’s irrelevant.”

Lupin did something he had never done before; he hugged Harry. Harry had no memory of being hugged this way by a man. Sure, Sirius had, but not like this, not like a father.

“I know that there is no point trying to stop you, so I won’t. All I’m going to say is that you’re not alone. I’ll always be here for you,” Lupin said, still holding Harry. Then he held him at arms length and said tearfully, “If James could only see the man you’ve become, he’d be so proud of you. You hold every characteristic that made your father the great man he was.”