Four Weddings & A Funeral

While Ron and Harry sat talking at Harry's kitchen table, Neville was looking down at the dark haired woman walking beside him, holding his hand, and smiled. She looked up at that moment and smiled back, squeezing his hand gently, her blue eyes glowing. They'd just had an early dinner at a small, Muggle restaurant not far from Neville's flat to which they were now returning. They'd stopped on their way back and hired a movie which Priscilla promised he'd enjoy. 'You'll have plenty of time to visit Harry and Hermione afterwards,' she assured him. To Neville's great relief, Hedwig had arrived that morning with a note from Hermione rescheduling his visit with her and Harry for that night, so he felt certain she was back home. He'd told Priscilla that he needed to see Harry and Hermione in connection with what had happened at the Burrow. Priscilla noticed that Neville didn't volunteer any further information about the incident at the Burrow although she did ask whether he knew why Hermione would strangely ignore her questions about the night of Dean and Ginny's party. Neville simply told her that the investigation wasn't yet complete and Priscilla very wisely decided to leave it there, at least for the time being.

As they walked, all other thoughts, except those of Priscilla, were pushed from Neville's mind as he remembered back to when she'd been shocked to discover, on her first visit to his place, that he didn't have a TV or a DVD player and was even more shocked to find out he didn't have any sort of music system whatsoever. 'But I listen to the Wizarding Wireless Network,' he'd told her, puzzled.

Clicking her tongue, Priscilla had explained that while the WWN was a wonderful thing - especially "Witching Hour", her personal favourite - the Muggle world offered a fantastic array of music and movies and entertainment. 'I think being Muggle-born has been a blessing in disguise because I know about both worlds.' She looked at him and smiled. I'm taking you shopping.'

Neville had never been one to frequent Muggle stores. Priscilla, on the other hand, was quite adept at finding her way around any sort of store; she was, after all a woman. Neville had been grateful for her presence as he'd felt totally bewildered when faced with the choice of TVs alone - size, shape, colour, functions, you name it! As for DVD players... 'What exactly does "DVD" stand for?' he'd made the mistake of asking a store assistant at one point only to be stared at as though he'd just landed from Mars. And the strangled reply, "Digital Video Disc", hadn't really explained anything anyway and may as well have been spoken in Martian! The assistant he'd questioned continued to make a peculiar strangling noise and Neville suspected he was attempting to cover up a laughing fit.

A few days later, once the technician had set everything up in his lounge room, Priscilla impressed him with her knowledge of how such things worked, showing him a bewildering array of functions. Afterwards, they'd walked down the road to have some dinner and "pick up a movie" from the local video store on the way back.

Now, as they walked into the foyer of the block of flats in which he lived, entering the security code to gain access, Neville thought he'd never done anything as clever in his life as when he'd first asked Priscilla to go out with him. When he was with her, he felt happy. When he thought about her, he felt happy. When he talked to her, he felt happy. Anything to do with Priscilla made him happy. And so, some interesting little thoughts took solid shape in his consciousness, for instance: Priscilla = happiness. No Priscilla = misery. Conclusion: Must keep Priscilla around. How to guarantee Priscilla will always be around? Easy. Marry Priscilla. Yeah, right! Because while marrying Priscilla may in itself be easy, asking her certainly wouldn't be! And what if she said no? He shuddered. He didn't want to consider that possibility. Which meant he'd need to woo Priscilla, win her over, convince her she couldn't live without him just as he couldn't live without her. How do you do that? He'd need to talk to, erm, Dean? Yes, he could help. Harry? Oh, yes, definitely! Ron? As a last resort, perhaps. Or not.

The "ding" of the lift announcing its arrival at the ground floor as the doors slid open brought him out of his reverie.

'Penny for your thoughts,' said Priscilla mischievously as they stepped into the lift. Neville absentmindedly punched the button for the seventh and tried to focus totally on Priscilla instead of his own crazy thoughts.

'Erm, well, er, I think - well, you probably wouldn't really find them interesting...'

Neville had sat, spellbound, as the movie played, wondering at how Muggles managed to live such happy lives without any magic whatsoever although they did have many ingenious gadgets to make up for their lack of magic...

'So, what d'you think?' as Priscilla eagerly, turning to him. They were sitting together on Neville's rather old-fashioned but nevertheless comfortable two-seater couch as the movie credits scrolled up on the screen.

Priscilla had her legs curled up beside her, leaning on Neville. Neville smiled down at her. 'It was rather good - a little bewildering though - so many things happening! And that singer fellow was rather - well - interesting!' Priscilla laughed. The movie she'd hired was called "Love, Actually". He had quite a few other questions but he was sure they'd just cause Priscilla to make that same strangled noise as the store assistant had and he definitely didn't want her laughing at him!

Reaching for the remotes on the small end table, Priscilla switched the TV and DVD player off and turned on the stereo system which began playing soft music.

Priscilla gathered both of Neville's hands in hers and smiled lovingly at him.

'Neville, I need to ask you about something,' she said in an uncharacteristically shy voice. Although she'd given this a lot of thought, she was still awfully nervous now that the moment was here.

'Of course, anything,' he told her earnestly.

'Well,' Priscilla swallowed; how the hell could she say this without sounding like some rampant nymphomaniac? Which she knew wasn't, since she hadn't yet slept with a man, but oh how she wanted to sleep with this man! A day hadn't passed since Ginny and Dean's party that she didn't think about this - wondering whether she'd be doing the right thing. Would she regret it? She didn't think so. Was she being too forward? But then, why should the man always have to be the one to take the initiative and risk rejection? She'd decided to trust her heart - and her heart wanted Neville and if she wasn't mistaken, he wanted her just as much. She raised her eyes to meet his. 'Well,' she repeated, 'it's just that I wondered what your views were - are - on, um - furthering our relationship...'

Neville frowned, feeling puzzled. "Furthering"? What did she mean? What was she asking?

Priscilla realised he had no idea what she was talking about and decided that perhaps a different tack would be advisable. A straightforward tack. He'd understand that, surely.

Swallowing nervously, she said, 'Neville, it's just that I've never slept with a man - I mean, I've never made love -'

Neville did indeed understand that, no problem! He suddenly found himself too embarrassed to look at Priscilla. Why was she telling him this? he wondered desperately, although he had to admit to a thrill running through at him at the knowledge that she hadn't had a serious boyfriend before him.

Priscilla lifted her hands and gently framed his face although what she really wanted to do, the thought making her feel giddy, was push him down on the lounge, rip his clothes off and have her way with him!

'Please don't be embarrassed -' or I'll fall apart! 'I know I'm not saying this very well, but what I am trying to tell you is -' Here goes nothing! '- that I want to make love with you.' There! I said it! Oh dear, what will he think of me? Have I made a mistake?

Neville sat gazing at her, stunned, feeling as though every word had emptied out of his head since he could find none in there to use!

Feeling a little desperate in the face of Neville's silence and her own doubts, Priscilla continued, 'Please say something! If you don't want me - don't want to - I'll - understand -' I'll die!

Neville finally found his voice. Shaking his head as he grasped her upper arms he told her unsteadily, his voice hoarse, 'Of course I want you! I just didn't think you'd want to - well, that it was a little too soon for that - but maybe that's just me. I think I'm a little old-fashioned...'

Throwing off his arms, Priscilla threw her own around his neck, relief sweeping through her.

'One of the reasons I love you!' she cried.

Wrapping his arms around her slender form, Neville buried his face in her hair. 'I love you, too,' he mumbled happily.

Priscilla pulled back just enough so that she could look at him. 'You do?'

Neville nodded, unable to stop smiling.

'Neville, you need to kiss me - now!'

Which of course he did. And as he kissed her, he became aware that her hands seemed to have taken on a life of their own because he felt them sliding from around his neck to start unbuttoning his shirt. But then he was distracted by their kiss - which Priscilla had taken to the next level by parting her lips slightly and pressing her tongue gently against Neville's mouth and he found himself lost in the marvellous sensations that followed, in places he wouldn't have thought had any connections to his mouth whatsoever. Then he realised that the last button just above his belt was being unbuttoned and Priscilla's small, warm hands were slipping around his waist, then back to his stomach and up and over his chest to his shoulders and how the hell was it that he had any part of his brain available to register what her hands were doing when her tongue was doing things that had to be illegal! Then those law-breaking lips left his mouth and travelled along the edge of his jaw, down his neck and where the hell were they going now?! He heard someone moan and realised it was himself. Priscilla's mouth had reached his chest but she didn't stop there, oh no...her soft lips were still travelling...moving down...down over his stomach...and sweet Mother of Merlin was she actually trying to undo his belt?! This was too much - too much! No man could be expected to just sit here and take this!

'Priscilla, please!' he managed to gasp.

Then somehow those soft lips were now whispering into his ear... 'Please what?' they said.

He was about to speak when his voice was once more taken from him, this time by the feel of her hand on the now painfully hard bulge in his pants...

Then she was standing up and tugging at his hand. Obediently, he stood up, wrapping his arms around her in an effort to steady himself since there was definitely no blood left in his head and he was a little dizzy as a consequence. Her lips once more found his and this time he was the one to demand entrance to her mouth which she gladly gave.

When their lips finally parted, she spoke softly, her voice trembling a little. 'Neville, please take me to bed.'

Her reply was a groan that rose from deep within Neville's chest.

'I'll take that as a "yes",' she whispered.

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

As the movie Neville and Priscilla were watching ended, Hermione arrived home, Flooing into an empty lounge room, wondering where Harry was. She left her bag on the couch and quickly became aware of the low rumble of male voices coming from the kitchen. She wondered who Harry was talking to. She felt a surge of anticipation at the thought of seeing him again - although at the same time her stomach was doing a great imitation of an out-of-control centrifuge. And her knees felt weak. Mother of Merlin! She hadn't felt nervous anticipation like this since the days when Harry had first moved here from Hogwarts! She recognised Ron's voice as she drew closer and heard him mention his beloved Chudley Cannons. Quidditch! They were talking about Quidditch! She couldn't help but smile. Something so trivial and yet so normal - something she found herself suddenly craving. As she reached the doorway, she felt as though an awful weight she'd been carrying dropped away and she knew she'd done the right thing in coming home. She had only the tiniest moment in which to take in the sight of the two men at the table, now with mugs of tea in front of them - but that moment held a hundred different thoughts, emotions and memories... the first time Harry had kissed her that night at dinner...that unforgettable first night they'd made love...and the next morning...all the fun and love since and then Harry proposing to her... her heart was thumping madly at the sight of him and then Harry looked up and was on his feet, closing the distance between them in seconds, crying her name as he wrapped his arms around her, holding tightly to him, his face buried in her hair which she'd worn out this night. Hermione threw her arms around his waist as he spoke, his voice low, throbbing with emotion.

'Hermione! Thank God you came back. Thank God you're home. Please don't ever leave me again. I'm so sorry. I'll never do that again.'

Turning her head so that she could speak, she whispered, 'This is where I belong. I won't leave again.' She could feel tears prickling her eyes. The feel of Harry's arms around her once more - the feel of Harry! - was indescribable.

Harry lifted his head, his green eyes raking her face, looking to see that she meant it.

'You can't imagine how sorry I am -' he began.

Reaching up, she kissed him softly. 'Yes, I can.'

'Can you forgive me?' Harry's voice was tense.

Hermione looked up at him, her expression serious. 'I already have,' she told him softly.

Harry hadn't realised he'd stopped breathing until he drew in a deep breath on hearing Hermione's words. Then he reached back and pulled Hermione's left hand up so that he could look at it. His eyes went from the ring on her finger to meet her steady gaze. 'I never took it off,' she told him quietly. Holding her gaze, he lifted her hand and turned it, pressing his lips gently to the soft skin of the inside of her wrist. They'd both forgotten Ron was there. Harry was aware of only one thing: Hermione. He lifted her hand to place it against his own cheek, still looking at her.

'You're the only thing that makes everything right for me,' he told her softly.

'And you're all I'll ever need,' she told him.

'Oy! Where's my hug?' Ron stood up, his hands on his hips, bringing both their gazes to rest on him blankly for a moment before turning back and smiling at each other, exchanging a look that held tacit agreement to talk later.

'I'll make you some tea,' said Harry as he reluctantly released Hermione, lifting his fingers to linger softly on her cheek for a moment, 'you go hug Ron.'

Ron wrapped his long arms around her and squeezed her tightly before they sat down.

'All right, Hermione?' he asked softly. 'Harry told me what happened.'

She nodded, feeling tears prick the back of her eyes again, but she blinked them away. This was not the time to cry. As she and Ron sat down, she looked over at Harry, saying, 'Harry, I asked Neville to come over tonight - I would've thought he'd be here by now. You haven't heard from him?' As she looked at him, she couldn't help but smile and experienced a wild urge to run across the room to him and just hug him again!

She watched as Harry, while turning on the tap to fill the kettle, gave a slight shrug, saying, 'Haven't heard from him.' Then he turned and looked at her and as their eyes met he silently mouthed, 'I love you.' Hermione smiled and did the same before turning back to Ron.

'Do you know,' said Hermione thoughtfully, 'I think Neville could well have forgotten about us - he's usually a little early if anything. Priscilla told me they were having dinner tonight and I wouldn't be surprised if they end up -'

'Stop right there!' cried Ron, pretending to be overcome with embarrassment. 'I am not thinking about Neville and Priscilla because - well, I'm just not thinking about them, all right? It's not nice!'

'Not nice? Bet Neville wouldn't agree with you there!' exclaimed Harry causing Ron to roll his eyes in mock disgust which in turn made Harry laugh for what was the first time since Hermione had left. As Harry walked back to the table and placed Hermione's mug of tea before her then bent down and kissed the top of her head, at the same time inhaling the wonderfully familiar scent of her hair. He sat down then, still smiling at Hermione. Having her home, having her near me, he thought, is the only thing I need to start putting the memories of all that misery behind me.

'I think Neville's ripe for the picking myself' remarked Hermione, giving Harry a mischievous look. Harry winked at her before saying, 'Yes, snogging alone really just isn't satisfying enough in the end and -' but he didn't finish as Ron groaned. 'Will you two quit it please? Merlin's beard!'

Hermione laughed, then, resting her chin on her hand, asked, 'How's life with Luna going?'

'Better subject,' answered Ron and then he just smiled - a really big smile which said it all and Hermione couldn't help but laugh softly. 'That good, hmm?'

'I think I'm going to have to make it a permanent arrangement soon - make sure I can keep her around.'

Hermione gasped, her eyes widening in surprise. 'Propose?' She thought she heard Harry murmur something that sounded like, 'Best thing I ever did,' and threw him a quick smile.

Ron went beet red. 'Well, don't say anything, but I've been thinking about it. I know we haven't been together that long but maybe we could have a longish engagement. At least if we're engaged I'll know she wants to stay around.'

Hermione patted Ron's hand with her free hand. 'Your secret's safe with us, don't worry!'

Smiling, Ron looked around the table and remarked, 'How about this?' as he looked around the table. 'Just the three of us! It's been a while.'

'Here's to us,' said Hermione, laughing, raising her mug into the air.

'To us,' repeated Ron and Harry, lifting their mugs to hers.

'Jeez, toasting with tea. Getting a little tame, aren't we?' joked Ron.

'I've had enough Ogden's recently to last me a lifetime!' retorted Harry. Hermione shot him a concerned look and he gave her a lopsided smile. 'Tell you later,' he said quietly.

Ron's expression because serious then as he looked at his two friends. 'I actually came here tonight because I needed to talk to you about something - it's Ginny - she's started having nightmares again and -'

Before he could finish, a sound reverberated through the flat causing all three to nearly drop their mugs. It took a few seconds to register that the noise was being caused by what sounded like a herd of hippogriffs pounding on Harry's front door. Harry moved first, running into the hallway, followed quickly by Ron and Hermione, both of whom stayed behind him as he gestured at the door. As it swung open, the silence was immediate and they could see it had been Dean doing the pounding. He collapsed against the door frame, a stricken look on his face as he stared at them. Hermione brushed past Harry to reach him, wrapping both her arms around one of his and pulling him towards the kitchen.

Harry and Ron moved aside to let them past, Harry shutting the door with a quick wave before they followed them back to the kitchen.

'Looks like I may have to break out the Ogden's again,' murmured Harry as Ron threw him a worried look - this no doubt had something to do with Ginny - what now?

'Where's Ginny?' asked Ron, sitting down, pulling out the chair beside him for Hermione. 'Is she all right?'

Dean nodded. 'She's asleep at home,' he said, his voice barely audible.

'What happened?' asked Hermione.

As they sat there, around the table, the trio still with their tea while Dean stared down into a glass of firewhiskey, they waited patiently for their friend to collect himself enough to talk. His hands, wrapped around his glass, were trembling.

Slowly raising his head, Dean looked around at his friends, his deep brown eyes looking haunted. Hermione was to his left, Ron to his right and Harry between them.

'I don't know what to do,' he said simply. And he went on to explain that after suffering those terrible nightmares which had worried them all, Ginny had stopped having them as suddenly as she'd started, although they had no idea why or how. The memory of them had faded in the days following, helped by the fact that they were flat out with organising the wedding. Everything had once again seemed normal. He glanced at Ron who knew he was wondering whether he'd told Harry and Hermione what had happened earlier. Ron gave his head a slight shake to indicate he hadn't.

Dean hesitated; for some reason, he felt compelled then to relate the events of the whole day, as though it would help put everything into perspective somehow...or put off the inevitable moment when he had to relive this latest nightmare. So he started with the fact that early that morning Ginny had gone for a walk, "to clear the cobwebs" as she put it and then shortly afterwards had left with her mother to go shopping. He'd then gone out later himself to pick up some groceries, Ginny arriving home while he was out. He described how he'd found her on the couch on his return and Ron's arrival a few short minutes afterwards. He recounted how Ron had taken her to their bedroom and she'd finally come around, Ron nodding as Dean spoke.

Dean continued, telling them Ginny had gone to bed early after Ron had left - then he faltered, his hands running through his short, thick curls, his fine features creased with distress. With some gentle encouragement from Hermione, he swallowed hard and continued.

After Ron left, Ginny'd had a small amount of soup Dean heated up for her, following which she just wanted to sleep, telling him she felt exhausted. He'd checked on her shortly afterwards and he was relieved to find her sleeping peacefully. He decided to tidy up a little and while straightening the scatter cushions on the couch in the lounge room, he found Ginny's "rose necklace" as he thought of it, under one of those cushions. It could easily have come off on any one of the occasions she lay there to read - it was her favourite reading spot...he went and slipped it into the top drawer of her bedside table where she kept her jewellery, smiling down at her peacefully sleeping form.

At this point, Hermione interrupted and asked him about the "rose necklace", what it looked like and where had it come from. Dean explained to her how Ginny had come by it, causing Hermione to frown thoughtfully into the distance while he continued, his voice becoming tense as he faced retelling the events of that evening that had brought him here. His fists began clenching as he told them he'd gone and sat in the kitchen, making himself a light meal and eating it while he read that day's edition of the Daily Prophet. 'They're still managing to mention something about you two and your engagement even now!' he said in disgust. He knew Hermione and Harry had done everything possible to avoid the inevitable publicity following the announcement of their engagement, although to no avail. If reporters lacked facts, they simply made it up.

Dean took a deep breath, closing his eyes. Hermione laid her hand on his, knowing her gesture of comfort would probably be futile at this point. His voice low and tense, he continued.

'After I finished eating, that's when I went to see Mum and Dad. It was when I came back, when I Flooed home, I found Ginny -'

'Found Ginny how?' Hermione asked as he hesitated.

"Having another one of those cursed bloody nightmares!'

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

After finishing the soup Dean had warmed up for her, Ginny felt exhausted and told him she wanted to go back to bed. As she slid between the soft, cool sheets Ginny felt herself relax and almost immediately began to drift off to sleep...she slept peacefully for some time, unaware of Dean's quiet visit to put her necklace in her drawer. Then at some point she began to dream once more - more vividly than she ever had before - feeling as though it was more reality than dream...

She was in some grandiose bedchamber -there were three sets of tall French doors which were opened and led out onto a huge, stone balcony; there was warm sunshine streaming in through the doors, the light, sheer curtains adorning them fluttering gently in the breeze. The chamber looked almost mediaeval - a huge four poster bed with elaborate hangings stood at one end. There was a fireplace opposite, not needed this warm, balmy day. A writing desk and chair sat facing outside at one of the French doors. Some armchairs were arranged around a low table in the middle of the room. There were books here and there about the room and some beautiful paintings adorned the walls - all landscapes. She became aware that she was dressed in beautiful and expensive silk robes in a soft shade of aqua. Her long, red hair tumbled down her back. She headed towards the closest doorway but before she could go through she heard a door open behind her and turned.

He entered and closed the door behind him, smiling at her. Then he was walking towards her - gliding smoothly, his own robes of deep, silvery forest green floating behind him as he strode towards her. When he reached her, he slid one hand beneath the curtain of her hair, curling his fingers around the nape of her neck.

'Ginevra, you look breathtaking, as always,' he said quietly.

The sound of his voice sent a delicious shiver throughout her body and she found herself wanting him to kiss her, looking up at him, her lips parting slightly. He immediately bent his head to do just that, his grip on her neck tightening slightly, his free arm sliding around her waist, pulling her against him. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, relaxing against him, opening her mouth to him.

Hadn't she once fought this? Hadn't she felt trapped? Hadn't she struggled to escape? Those memories slid away, leaving her to kiss him harder, wanting him so much she ached with it. She was aware of being carried, being reverently laid on the huge four poster bed. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning over her, smiling lovingly down at her as his fingers played with her soft auburn curls.

'Shall I stay?' he asked.

Dean walked into the bedroom, smiling as he saw his fiancée lying in bed, the suggestion of a smile hovering on her lips.

And in her dream, Ginny heard herself say, 'Yes.' She wanted him to stay.

Dean bent down to kiss her on the forehead. Was she talking in her sleep? he wondered.

The voice inside Ginny's head was insistent: 'Say my name, I need to hear you say my name.'

She was saying something! Dean thought as he leant down a little closer to catch what it was.

Ginny obeyed the voice. 'Draco - please stay - I want you here with me... Draco... I want you, Draco...' She felt these words reverberate throughout her body, although she didn't know whether she was hearing them or saying them.

'NO!'

The word was torn from Dean and he staggered backwards, his arms flailing until they came into contact with the wall and he fell against it, feeling sick. He couldn't tear his eyes from her. She was smiling and whispering, her head turning slowly from side to side.

Her back arched, her head dropped back and she screamed his name: 'Draco!'

Then she collapsed back onto the bed, breathing heavily, a smile still touching her lips. He watched in horrified fascination as her breathing slowed and he realised she was now truly asleep.

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

A long way away, another woman who spent her nights staring at the ceiling, whimpered softly as tears began to fall unheeded from her eyes.

That morning, that same woman had risen from her bed, knowing she was expected to do so although each morning it was getting harder and harder not to simply just stay there...she no longer cared about anything, even living. Although, that feeling resurfaced again, the feeling that there was something missing...

She wandered into the kitchen where she found her son pouring steaming water into the teapot from the kettle.

'Good morning, Draco,' she said quietly.

He turned and smiled at her. 'Good morning, Mother,' he replied. She always looked the same these days: tired. 'Sleep well?'

She nodded automatically. 'Yes, thank you. You?'

'Always.'

They said the exact same thing each morning to each other.

She sat down at the small, round kitchen table and waited. Draco had already set the table. Now he would bring the teapot over and leave it to steep while he cooked their breakfast. After placing their laden plates on the table he would, as always, go to the fridge last and bring over the orange juice.

As he seated himself he smiled at her. 'Don't let it go cold.'

She gave him a small smile and picked up her knife and fork.

Draco glanced surreptitiously at his mother while he ate, noticing she was actually eating a little by herself.

Maybe she'll recover from whatever it is my father did her, he thought. Maybe she just needs time.

'Do you know where my roses are?'

Draco froze in mid-movement, his fork halfway to his mouth. 'Roses?' he repeated blankly.

'Two of my roses are gone. I suppose Lucius took them back.'

'Back?' Draco slowly put his fork down, watching his mother intently while ice seemed to be forming somewhere inside him.

'He gave them to me long ago, so long ago...'

Looking down at the congealing egg on his plate he spoke. 'Mother, what roses? What are you talking about?' He closed his eyes. Don't tell me what I'm afraid you're going to tell me! Please let me be wrong!

Her eyes, her empty eyes, drifted to his. He saw a flicker in them.

'Lucius gave me a beautiful crystal rose not long after I met him and then another just before our engagement was announced. He gave me a third one as a wedding gift. They were always with me. He said they had to be. But...' her gaze shifted once more, slowly passing around the room.

'But what? Why did they always have to be with you?'

'I don't know. And now they've gone.'

Gone. Because he'd found them and given two of them to Ginevra. He'd found them when he was unpacking his mother's bag along with a lot of other bits and pieces that he'd just put away - objects that would serve no purpose; his mother's packing had been very haphazard and he'd assumed the roses were just beautiful, although useless, objects too.

'Didn't father ever tell you why you needed to keep them with you?' he asked, trying not to sound as desperate as he felt for this information.

Once more she looked at him. 'No. But I came to believe he'd charmed them in some way. I accidentally left them behind once when we went on a holiday and he Apparated back home just to get them. I suppose they had to be charmed to be that important to him.'

'What sort of charm?'

'I don't know. But since they've been gone I've felt - even emptier. Even more alone.'

Perhaps because he'd taken those roses and given them to someone else...

Draco stood up, feeling as though the ice had taken over his whole body - he was cold all over.

He felt a desperate need to understand why his father had given the roses to his mother - even more desperately, he needed to know what it was they did - what charm infused them. He'd have to somehow see Ginevra - find out if she was all right. But how?

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

"Draco, please stay, I want you here with me, Draco, I want you, Draco." Dean's voice has hard as he finished repeating the words Ginny had spoken in her sleep, words etched indelibly in his memory; his head dropped. Hearing those words had been a waking nightmare. Thinking about them added to the well of hatred in him for the man they were meant for. Repeating them like this made him feel physically sick.

Ron shot to his feet causing his chair to fall backwards, his fists clenched by his sides. 'Malfoy!' He spat the name out as though it was the crudest curse he knew. 'Why in the name of Merlin would she be saying his name in a dream? In a nightmare!'

Harry reached over and pulled gently on Ron's arm. 'C'mon Ron, sit down,' he said, waving his hand to bring Ron's chair upright again. Ron obediently dropped back onto the chair, placing his clenched fists on the table, his face suffused with fury, muttering under his breath.

'Dean,' said Hermione gently, resting her hand on his arm, 'those nightmares of Ginny's a few weeks ago, were they anything to do with Malfoy?'

Dean shook his head, 'I don't know - I never heard her say anything before and she never remembers anything - she just feels terrified of being trapped, of not being able to get away. This is the first time I've ever heard her talking in her sleep.'

Hermione looked at Harry.

'We have to talk to Professor Dumbledore,' she said firmly.

Harry raised his eyebrows at her in a questioning gesture. 'Tonight?' He quickly squashed the sharp pang of disappointment that they wouldn't be alone as soon as he'd like.

'Tonight,' replied Hermione and turning to Dean, she said quietly, 'We're all going to your place, Dean, to wake Ginny up and take her with us. I think it's extremely important we get her to Dumbledore. Ron?'

Ron stopped muttering and looked at Hermione, not having taken in anything she'd said.

Hermione sighed. 'Ron, Harry and I are going to take Dean and Ginny to see Dumbledore tonight - to begin getting to the bottom of her problem. Do you want to come?'

Nodding vigorously, it was then Ron realised he'd completely forgotten to owl or Floo Luna to let her know where he was and that he'd be late...oh shit!

'Listen, I'll meet you at Dean's - I have to duck home first and see Luna.'

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

Ron arrived home to find Luna frantic. To say the least.

'I didn't know where you were! There was no note! I didn't know where to begin looking for you! I was -'

Wrapping his arms around her, Ron rested his cheek against the top of her heard.

'I'm sorry, Luna, I'm so sorry...'

He could feel her shaking as she started to cry. He walked slowly backwards, pulling her with him until he felt the sofa behind his legs and sat down, pulling her onto his lap.

He told her briefly what had happened at Harry and Hermione's which was enough to make her stop crying and look at him wide eyed, dabbing at her eyes with the hem of her shirt.

'Poor Ginny! Poor Dean! What's he going to do?'

So he told her what was happening. 'You don't need to come to Hogwarts with me, but I do want to be there - I'll probably go back and tell mum and dad about Ginny afterwards, too- '

Wiping the remnants of tears from her face Luna gave him a small smile.

'It's all right - you go. But let me know as soon as you can what's happening, won't you?'

Ron nodded, then kissed her. Luna's arms stole around his neck. He kept kissing her. Leaning back a little she smiled at him. 'I think I'll wait up for you,' she told him, running her hand lovingly down the side of his face.

'Luna, will you marry me?'

Luna nearly fell off his lap and onto the floor, saved only by Ron's quick reflexes.

'Pardon?' she squeaked.

Ron blushed. Now what the hell had made him say that at this precise moment?

'Will you marry me?' he repeated, suddenly realising it was entirely possible she'd say "no" and just what would he do then?

She stared at him, her mouth open slightly in an "O" of surprise, her silvery eyes fixed on him.

Ron closed his eyes, unable to bear the suspense. Then he felt the soft touch of her lips against his. Kissing was good, right? You didn't kiss someone if you were going to turn down their proposal, did you?

He pulled away slightly and looked at her. He had to know.

'Well?' he asked, his future contained in the one small word she would speak.

Luna cupped his face with her hands and smiled at him.

'As if I could say anything but yes you silly man!'

He grinned then started kissing her again, feeling his heart swell to twice its size. Yes! She's mine!

Then it hit him and pulled away once more.

'I don't have a ring for you!' he lamented, feeling crushed.

Luna laughed softly. 'I don't need a ring from my king - at least not right this instant! You'll do...' And she kissed him again.

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

Neville lay on his back with his arm around Priscilla who was lying on her side, snuggled up against him, her arm thrown across his bare stomach, her leg possessively curled around his. He had a grin on his face that he just couldn't control. He turned his head slightly and felt his lips come into contact with her forehead so he kissed her, a satisfied, 'Mmmmm,' escaping him as he did so. 'Thank goodness I didn't buy a single bed,' he commented randomly, 'even though my grandmother thought I should.' Priscilla giggled.

'What?' he murmured.

'A single bed would've made things rather interesting, don't you think? And you know, I just feel so silly and wonderful and happy all at the same time!' she told him. Then she pushed herself up onto her elbow, sweeping her long dark hair out of her eyes as she looked down at him.

'D'you know, that was every bit as wonderful as I knew it would be with you,' she told him softly, trailing a finger down the length of his face.

'And how did you know that?' he said, catching her hand in his and kissing her palm.

She shrugged, smiling. 'I'm just clever, that's all!'

'I won't argue with that!' Neville rolled over so that he was lying mostly on top of Priscilla who was now lying on her back. He let go of her hand and cupped her face, leaning down to kiss her tenderly. 'I love you,' he whispered.

'I love you too,' she whispered back.

Before he could kiss her again, she smiled up at him. 'Is that what I think it is?' she asked cheekily, moving her hips a little which elicited a soft groan from Neville.

'You're the clever one, you tell me,' he murmured hoarsely. But she couldn't tell him anything because she was too busy being kissed again.

Neville still hadn't remembered he was supposed to be at Harry and Hermione's.

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

In Hermione and Harry's kitchen, they, along with Dean, stood for a second as Ron Disapparated then Hermione and Harry stood each side of Dean, both with a hand on his arm.

'All right, Dean, let's go and get Ginny,' said Harry; Hermione gave Dean's arm a reassuring squeeze as the three of them Disapparated. On arriving at Dean's, they moved quickly towards the bedroom. The room was in darkness and Dean ran his hand over the wall to flip the light switch. The three figures froze as they took in the dishevelled state of the bed.

The empty bed.

Ginny was nowhere to be seen.