False Pretence
It was the ideal day for a wedding. Nearly two o’clock on the afternoon of the first of October and the sun was a shining beacon in the clear sky, the birds chirped their upbeat ballads cheerfully, and the accustomed hustle and bustle at The Burrow was in full swing as everybody got ready for the ceremony that was happening there that day. On the lawn everything was set - the marquee, alter and chairs had been put perfectly in their places earlier that morning, and it was the first time in years that the yard and gardens had looked so clean and trim.
However, inside there was chaos from all corners. In the girls’ dressing room, the bride paced the length in front of the mirror spastically as her family watched nervously, wringing her hands and trying not to wrinkle her ivory dress. The only man in the room stood like an out-of-place sentinel in one corner.
“Hermione, dear, you’re going to wear a hole in the floor,” sighed a tall, skinny woman with thick brown hair and prominent eyes whom John assumed to be her mother.
Hermione paid her no mind and instead turned her attention on him; John shrunk away as the frantic expression on her face was directed towards him. “How is he? He’s not getting cold feet, is he? What is--”
“Whoa, whoa.” John made sure he moved in front of the open door just in case he needed to make a quick getaway. “He’s fine! He’s, wait … cold feet?”
He had thought his question was innocent enough but she only paced faster and went to pull her hair, nearly screaming with frustration when she remembered that it was now sleeked and pinned up for the occasion and she could not touch it if she didn’t want it ruined. Seeming to take pity on her soon to be daughter-in-law, Mrs Weasley answered for her.
“Is Ron all right to be married today, John? He’s not getting scared, is he?”
“What? No, of course not; Ron’s doing great.”
“You see,” placated Hannah, “everything’ll be perfect. Ron wants to marry you; you want to marry Ron. You have nothing to worry about.”
Hermione breathed in a deep, calming breath. “Yes. Yes, of course. John, you should most likely be getting your suit on now.”
“On my way.” He risked a step forward and pecked her on the cheek, enjoying watching her eyes widen in happy alarm. “You’re beautiful. Ron won’t know what hit him.”
She was still blushing when he closed the door behind him.
Inside the men’s room, the groom was going through a similar bout of hysteria. His freckled face was currently a perfect match for his flaming orange hair.
“Why did I ever let Hermione talk me into wearing one of these ridiculous things!” fumed Ron Weasley as he struggled with his stubborn tie. “I can’t breathe in this, it’s too tight!”
“Calm down,” Neville chuckled beside him. He had finished pinning his pale yellow corsage on to his lapel and was now admiring himself in the full-length mirror.
Ron narrowed his eyes at his best man’s handsome black Muggle suit. “Well, you look good. Why do you look so good? I just look like an idiot in mine.” He pulled on the tie some more, glaring down at it as if wishing it to knot itself. “This is useless!”
“It’s not so bad,” said David. “You know how important this is to Hermione - having it as Muggle as possible. A lot of her relatives have no clue she’s a witch, or that there’s even such a world.”
“Still,” he huffed, “I wish I could’ve just worn dress robes.”
John, who by this point had put on his own Muggle suit, looked down at his tie hanging around his neck and smiled slightly; Ron made such a big deal out of things sometimes. Hermione may not have wanted wizard clothing, but she had said absolutely nothing about using magic to help you dress. He pulled out his wand, pointed it at his neck, and said clearly, making sure that Ron could hear and see what he was doing, “Ligo”. Immediately, his silk tie was perfectly knotted and centered on his neck; Ron scowled.
“Bloody hell, John! Where’d you learn that?”
“Let’s just say that I’ve been to one or two occasions where a tie has been required over the years,” John smirked. “Here, let me fix that.” He pointed his wand at Ron’s and repeated the charm; immediately his cream-coloured tie secured itself at a comfortable length around his neck.
“Spiffy,” muttered Ron, impressed. He smoothed the palm of his hand down the front of his dress shirt. “Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.”
There was a sharp knock on the other side of the door and then it opened and Mr and Mrs Weasley entered. They smiled proudly at the sight of their youngest son. “It’s time,” Mr Weasley announced.
At precisely two o’clock, John followed the congregation of guests outside with David, Seamus, and Dean, and they found their seats in the second row from the front of the ceremony. Everything looked beyond words; the Weasleys had outdone themselves once again. The chairs, aisle, and pillars of the marquee were draped in a soft lace, an array of light pink and white petals were scattered on the floor, and the surrounding trees were decked in small twinkling fairy lights. The crowd was an equal mixture of Muggles and magical people, the large majority of whom were decked out in Muggle attire to not give away the secret of the magical world to the bride’s extended family.
As the music started softly behind them, the entire crowd turned their heads toward the back of the tent to watch Hermione make the customary walk to the alter. While his eyes travelled to the back, John spotted many familiar faces from his time in England. In a magically-fortified seat sat Hagrid the half-giant, who pulled out a large tablecloth-sized handkerchief from the deep depths of his pocket to muffle his emotional tears. He saw many of the professors of Hogwarts too, as well as some of the shop owners in both Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade. Luna Lovegood, in all of her eccentric glory, was seated contently between Ollivander the wand maker and a slim, wide-eyed man who John did not recognize. He also saw many familiar faces from school, including Susan Bones, the Patil twins, Ernie Macmillan and Terry Boot.
Finally, his eyes were drawn to Hermione, a stunning vision walking between her tearful mother and smiling father. Her eyes were locked to the front where Ron was waiting, and John thought that she must be the most gorgeous girl at The Burrow today - that is, until he saw the slender red-haired girl taking the place as Hermione’s Maid of Honour. Ginny Weasley strolled gracefully up the aisle carrying a small bouquet of flowers in a pale yellow dress that accentuated every feature and curve on her body. Almost unconsciously, John found his eyes following her more intensely than he had the bride.
The group had now arrived at the alter where Ron, with Neville standing beside him, and the small tufty-haired wizard who had performed Bill and Fleur’s wedding were waiting. Hermione’s parents pecked both her cheeks and placed her hand in Ron’s; they left and together, Ron and Hermione turned to the minister as he began to recite his speech.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we are gathered here today to celebrate the union of two faithful souls in holy matrimony…”
John couldn’t keep his eyes off of his two old friends - they were so happy; they looked as if all of their doubts and questions and fears could be answered just by the presence of the one person in front of them. He wondered how that felt, knowing that you had a soul mate, another half… someone who’d never judge you and would always love and forgive you when you did something wrong. He turned his attention back to the ceremony, the guilty pain in his chest suddenly an unbearable burden.
“Do you, Ronald Bilius, take Hermione Jean, to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish; from this day forward until death do you part?”
“I do,” Ron declared; he slid Hermione’s ring on to her third finger.
The tufty-haired wizard repeated the vow for Hermione. Tears cascaded down her face, but she smiled adoringly at her love. “I do,” she said and put his ring on him.
“Then I declare you bonded for life. You may now kiss the bride.” John watched as Ron leaned in, lifted her veil, and captured Hermione’s lips in a searing kiss. The couple broke apart after a moment, rather reluctantly, and the minister said, “Guests, if you will please rise.” Everybody stood up, clapping, and the chairs were quickly moved, leaving the makeshift dance floor clear.
The reception commenced quickly after that. John found himself alone at a table in the corner as people congratulated the happy couple and danced along to the music from the live band. Overall, despite everything that he had felt before, he was glad David had dragged him along; he wouldn’t have missed this wedding for anything in the world. As he was thinking this, Mrs Weasley had just finished an upbeat waltz with Mr Weasley and was making her way through the crowd to join him.
“Hello,” greeted John as she sat down across from him. “Magnificent ceremony.”
“It really was, wasn’t it?” she gushed. “Everybody seems to be enjoying themselves.”
Mrs Weasley peered at him shrewdly for a few seconds, her lips pursed; John got the distinct impression that she saw something in him more than she let on most of the time. “I’m glad you came, John.”
“I’m glad I came too, Mrs Weasley.”
She reached across the table to pat his arm affectionately and stood up. “Well,” she said, “don’t sit here brooding the entire time, dear, do you hear? Go catch some girl for a dance; it looks like Ginny’s free now.” She glanced furtively at him out of the corner of her eye and left, pulling one of her sons out onto the floor for a turn as she went.
Mrs Weasley was right, John noticed at once; Ginny, having just ended a friendly dance with Neville, was standing by herself at the punch table. Getting up, he approached her, holding out his hand; she looked up inquisitively.
“Hi, you’re Ron’s sister, Ginny, right?” She nodded. “My name is John Fischer, I’m--”
“You’re David’s friend, aren’t you?” She smiled only slightly, but John thought that it made her still even more beautiful. “His Auror partner in America.”
“Yeah, I am,” he replied, shaking her hand. “Care for a dance? It’s just … your family, they talk about you a lot. I just thought we could get to know each other a bit.”
“I’d like that,” said Ginny. She followed him onto the dance floor, holding on to the hand she already had and placing her other lightly on his shoulder. John tentatively put his free hand on her waist and slowly, they revolved in a small circle.
The music changed to a song that was a bit too fast for their rhythm, but they didn’t stop. The heavy feeling that he’d felt earlier had entirely gone, leaving him feeling light-hearted and joyful; he wondered why, now, her mere presence was more of a comfort to him that anything else he’d encountered for a long time. He found that he could spend all night like this, with her in his arms, and not get tired of it at all. If only she knew …
“So,” he said, trying to strike up a conversation, “your brother, Charlie, said you’re a Chaser for the Holyhead Harpies; how’s that?”
“Oh, it’s good … busy schedule,” she replied vaguely.
“I was a Seeker in school myself. Haven’t played seriously in years though.”
“Yeah? You went to Salem’s School in the United States like David, then?”
“Um, no actually,” he cleared his throat uncomfortably, “I didn’t. I grew up outside of the States; only moved there after I graduated.”
Ginny perked up then; her eyes sparkled with renewed interest and they locked with his as she attempted to figure him out. John wondered if she was having any luck with that; most of the time he didn’t even know himself.
“You know, you remind me of someone,” she said. He stiffened under her touch. “Where did you grow up?”
Just then, his answer was cut off as several loud cracks disturbed the peacefulness of the atmosphere. Several things happened at once: the band stopped playing abruptly, the tent under which everyone was dancing and eating was suddenly ripped off of its supports and thrown through the air, a few startled screams pierced the chaos, and before he knew what was happening, John felt Ginny wrenched harshly out of his grip. He whirled around, searching for Ginny and whatever was causing the disturbance of the best day he’d had in forever, his wand held at the ready. He saw David pushing through the frightened crowd, his wand out too, screaming something as he ran towards John.
“IT’S THEM! THEY FOUND US! IT’S THEM, JOHN!”
“Shit!” John snarled. David positioned himself back to back with John, calling orders out into the crowd.
“ANYBODY WITH WANDS, GET THEM OUT! IF YOU CAN APPARATE, GET THE CHILDREN AND MUGGLES OUT OF HERE!”
John watched the frantic guests impatiently; why weren’t they leaving? Did they want to get killed? Now, several black-cloaked Death Eaters were forming a large circle around the group, blocking everyone from running away. Out of the corner of his eye, John spotted a small boy with a shock of bright turquoise hair weaving through people’s feet.
“They have anti-Apparition wards up!” Dean Thomas shouted from somewhere to John’s left. “They’re blocking the exits! There’s no way out!”
“ANYBODY WHO CAN FIGHT, PULL OUT YOUR WANDS!” roared John. “EVERYONE ELSE TAKE COVER!”
John and David stood in the dead centre of the circular wall of Death Eaters. Together, they started volleying off spells and others started to do the same, until a malicious laugh, magnified to be heard over the din, made them stop; a cold silence drowned out everything but that laugh and the man who made it.
A tall, dark figure stepped forward out of the mass of black; behind him, a couple of other Death Eaters dragged two girls bound in their arms along with them: one in a long ivory dress, the other in a pale yellow. A silencing charm muted the girls’ screams.
“Hermione!”
“Ginny!”
Cries rang from several of the onlookers; John felt like crying along with them, but the man had now stopped in front of him and David.
“Fancy seeing you two here,” he sneered at them. “How nice of you to lead us right to you. All we had to do was cast a simple Tracking Charm on one of you, and look, here we are!”
Ron was being forcefully held back by George and Percy. His eyes glared balefully at the man. “You!” he yelled, “I’m going to find out who you are, and I’ll kill you, I swear I will!”
The man only awarded Ron with a fleeting glance before his attention was back on John. But he lowered his hood, revealing his white-blond hair and cold grey eyes, smiling pleasantly at the confusion he had caused. He laughed again. “Some things never change, do they?” said Draco Malfoy. “Your old sidekick has quite the temper. I wonder how he will feel once he learns that he’s been replaced.”
“Shut up, Malfoy,” hissed John as a muddled babble of voices broke out.
“Tsk, tsk, Fischer, your manners are no better than his, are they?” said Malfoy. “But, that aside, I suppose you are wondering why I’m here.”
“Yeah, I’m wondering. So spill, what good could this possibly do? Why are you doing this?”
“Because I can,” he answered simply. He beckoned the men holding Hermione and Ginny captive to come closer. “You ruined my life, Harry Potter, now I’m going to ruin yours.” Then, amidst the shocked cries and angry retorts, Draco Malfoy pulled the same emerald pendant he’d used in Atlanta from underneath his robes and gave it a tug. He disappeared into the thin air, his Death Eaters following him in the same manner, taking the struggling girls with them.