Harry Potter and the Simulacrum Seal

Chapter Three: Of the Heart

Harry and Hermione decided to wait for the others to catch up, neither sure of how to act when they entered and thinking it was better for Mrs Weasley and Bill to take the lead. It only took a few minutes for most of the Weasley clan to reach them, Mrs Weasley apologizing for Fred and George's behaviour, shaking her fist when saying their names. Following behind her, Harry and Hermione climbed the stairs and approached the open door.

Harry's first glimpse within showed the inside to be as opulent as would be expected from the front, with a sparkling white floor and two sweeping staircases on either side of the entrance hall. But he had little time to take in the sight before a tall, thin old wizard strode toward them, a skinny, insubstantial witch on his arm. He looked like a stretched and sharpened version of Dumbledore with a much less kind face: a long, skinny grey beard ending in a curled, pointed tip and a thick, heavy monobrow that overshadowed his eyes. A crowd of wizards and witches with cameras and quills was following the couple, and Harry blinked as one of their flashes went off in his direction. 'Welcome, welcome!' the wizard said with a French accent.

The wizard and witch couple came to a halt in front of him. 'I 'ope your trip went smoothly?' the wizard asked, the question obviously directed at Harry, who was beginning to doubt that all those cameras were there for wedding photos.

'Er, yeah ... I mean, oui,' he corrected.

The man laughed, which the others with him took as their cue to do so as well. 'Wonderful, wonderful ...' And then, before Harry could protest, the tall, skinny, obsequious man gripped Harry's shoulder and pressed Harry to his side, knocking his glasses askew. The woman went around to Harry's other side and put her hand lightly on his other shoulder, smiling as widely as her lips would stretch. As soon as she was in position, the cameras flashed wildly; Harry squinted against the assaulting light.

When it was over, the pair let him go and, as one, the reporters readied their quills, which worked furiously to keep up with the stream of French the old wizard was speaking. Harry couldn't understand a word of it except for his own name. He shuffled back to Hermione, who was glaring at the man. 'Can't escape it, can I?' he whispered to her.

'You do seem to attract politicians like moths to a flame,' she replied, her glare still going strong. 'They could at least leave you alone at a wedding.'

Mrs Weasley harrumphed loudly. 'Excuse-ez moy!' she said. The man looked back at her with disdain and, after turning back to smile for the crowd and excuse himself, approached her. The witch with the large false smile took the reporters' attention and led them back down the wide hallway, their voices still ringing loudly and their footsteps pounding in the echoing room as they left.

'Madame,' he said coldly, 'allow me to welcome you to my son's 'ome. 'E should be 'ere at any -'

'Je suis ici, père.' A younger, though still balding, man walked briskly down the stairs, his eyes narrowed in displeasure. Harry vaguely recalled him from the Triwizard Tournament as Fleur's father. 'I 'ope you 'ave not been bothering zese people?'

'Non, non,' the older wizard bowed, taking several steps backward.

Fleur's father came to a stop in front of Bill, to Harry's relief. 'My apologies, Bill,' he said, putting out his hand and smiling at him genuinely. Bill took it, and after a hearty handshake, he continued, 'My fazzer said you were not to arrive for anuzzer ten minutes!' He looked over his shoulder at his father, and the two exchanged a hostile look. 'My dear wife is with your bride at ze moment. You will not be able to see 'er until ze wedding! Ze bride, not my wife,' he clarified, 'zough my wife will not see you eizzer, I theenk, behind 'er tears of joy!'

Bill grinned. 'Merci.'

Mr Delacour moved down the line to shake Mrs Weasley's hand, then Charlie's, and then those of Bill's aunts, uncles, and cousins. Then he got to Harry and Hermione and shook their hands with equal, but not greater, zeal, though he did stare at Harry's scar for several moments before turning back to Bill. 'I see you 'ave already met my fazzer, ze Meenister for Magic 'ere in France.'

'A pleasure, Minister,' Bill said, nodding to the older man, who was standing behind his son with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face. The Minister gave only the curtest of nods in reply, glancing at Harry as though his favourite treat was just out of reach.

'Come, I will show you to your rooms so you may prepare for ze wedding,' Mr Delacour said.

'Wait!' Mrs Weasley protested, looking around and between the Weasley relatives in alarm. 'Where are Fred and George? My other two boys,' she clarified.

Mr Delacour blinked. 'I do not know. Zey were 'ere?'

'Yes!' she insisted. 'Where on earth could they have run off to?' Mrs Weasley muttered.

'I do not know,' he repeated. 'Did you 'appen to see in which direction zey went?'

'They separated from us outside,' Hermione replied. Mr Delacour looked at her intently. 'They went left. I didn't see them after that.'

'Those boys are always getting themselves into trouble!' Mrs Weasley rattled.

'I 'ope zey did not try to get into ze backyard,' Mr Delacour said, sounding distressed. 'We 'ave ... security ... excuse me, I will look for zem.' He began stepping through the throng of Weasleys to the door.'

'I'm sure that's not necessary,' Mrs Weasley called to him. 'I don't want to put you to any trouble.'

'It is no trouble ...'

As his footsteps receded down the outside stairway, Fleur's grandfather, who was apparently the Minister for Magic in France, regained the happy air he had practiced earlier. 'Excellent, excellent,' he said, grinning. 'I shall show you around myself.'

'No, thank you,' Bill insisted in a firm voice. 'We can wait for Corentin.'

Harry supposed he meant Mr Delacour, and was relieved, but the French Minister looked insulted. ''E could be a while. Ze ... security ...,' he said, sniffing, ''as been 'ard to find in the past.'

But only moments later Mr Delacour came back in, his concern vanished. 'Zey will join us later. Zey are fine.'

'Are you sure?' the Minister asked, sounding deadly serious. 'Ze man is -'

Mr Delacour began hissing quietly at his father in French, which made Mrs Weasley look concerned about the twins' whereabouts. When the Minister paled from the lecture, she said, 'Are you quite sure they're fine?'

'Zey are fine, I assure you,' Mr Delacour replied, turning away from his father with an air of dismissal, 'and zey will join us soon. Zey are simply ... busy at ze moment.' And with that cryptic comment, he led them up the stairs.

'Don't worry, Mum,' Harry heard Bill tell Mrs Weasley, 'it's perfectly safe, I promise. That's why we're here.' It was this assurance from Bill, who Mrs Weasley had always called level-headed, that managed to calm her.

***

Harry had forgotten how lonely life was without Ron. Hermione was with Ginny and Fleur in some secret no-man's land with dresses and flowers and giggles. Harry was in one of the seemingly innumerable rooms in the Delacour mansion; they had so many that everyone could have one to himself despite the mass numbers of the Weasley guests. Harry's room was around the size of the entire top floor of the Dursleys' house, decorated in stately blues and yellows. Harry felt out of place in such lavish quarters all by himself, and thought that it would have been a lot more liveable with Ron there. He was even beginning to imagine Ron there, for comfort, thinking up jokes they would be poking at the Minister and his scrawny wife and speculations they would have made about Fred and George's mysterious disappearance.

As he was halfway through doing up his dress robes, Harry was startled when his door was opened by the Weasley twins, who walked in with rucksacks in hand as though they owned the place. 'Where have you two been?' he asked.

'What're you, Mum?' Fred countered as George shut the door. 'We were just looking around, is all.'

They dropped their bags in the middle of the room and withdrew their wands. 'And we met Fleur's granddad. Interesting fellow,' George added.

Harry couldn't imagine what Fred and George could find interesting about the French Minister. 'He seemed like just another politician to me,' Harry replied, watching as Fred and George spelled themselves each a bed on either side of Harry's king-sized one.

Fred snorted. 'Him? If he's a politician, I'm the Queen.' He waved his wand and the décor of the room changed from blue to scarlet red and from yellow to shining gold.

'What would you call the Minister for Magic in France, then?' Harry grumbled, adjusting the collar of his robes as Fred and George added yet more flair to the room. He was quite grateful that they were bunking with him; he already felt more at home.

'Minister for Magic?' George said, smirking, throwing himself onto his bed and floating the contents of his bag across the room. 'It would certainly make life more interesting if he was.'

'I don't think we're talking about the same person as he is, George,' Fred said. 'Besides, how could Harry have met him? He was with us since he attacked us.'

'He attacked you?' Harry gaped, looking at the twins for some further explanation.

'Just a little,' George answered, shrugging. 'No hard feelings. We were sort of trespassing.'

'He mostly just startled us, and then he said we scream like Brits -'

'Which was supposed to be a compliment, I think -'

'And we ended up showing him some of our wares -'

'Instant Darkness Powder, Decoy Detonators -'

'He really liked the Decoy Detonators.'

'He likes loud noises generally,' George concluded. 'He's an odd fellow, and certainly not the political type.'

'I didn't realize Fleur could have any decent relatives,' said Fred thoughtfully, pulling on his dress robes.

'Let alone any English ones,' George added, idly tugging down his sleeve.

'Sounds like you got the good grandfather, then,' Harry said. 'The one I was introduced to was only interested in getting pictures with me.'

'That'll teach you for not nosing around,' Fred said in a lecturing tone. 'Merlin, I can't wait for this wedding to be over. I can't believe Mum wants us to take the whole week off here.'

'We've got a business to run,' George reminded him seriously.

'The Galleons we're losing being closed today ...' Fred shuddered. 'I suppose you and Hermione don't have anything better to do, though.'

Harry privately disagreed; it seemed to him that defeating Voldemort was a great deal more important than running a joke shop. Of course, Fred and George didn't realize Harry's plans.

'Besides,' George continued, giving Harry an oddly canny look, 'you're much safer here than in Britain.'

'Voldemort could easily cross the English Channel to get me,' Harry said darkly. 'I'm not safe anywhere.'

'Speaking of which ...' Fred began, the twins exchanging glances, 'what's this we hear about you dumping our little sister?'

That was the last topic Harry had expected to crop up. 'Dump her? I didn't dump her. We broke up, is all,' he shrugged.

'I don't know that I like you taking such a casual attitude about Ginny's feelings,' George growled, crossing his arms.

'I'm not being casual, it's the truth! We both decided it would be better if we didn't see each other any more.'

'Sure,' Fred said, grinning sceptically. 'I'll just bet it was all Ginny's idea.'

Harry glared at them. 'It's not like now is the best time for me to be in a relationship, in case you haven't noticed! Look what happened to Ron!'

The twins immediately turned to each other and the mildly hostile mood in the room changed. 'I knew he did it for some gallant reason,' George pronounced.

'Makes it awfully hard to be mad at him, doesn't it?' Fred said, followed by a long-suffering sigh.

'He hasn't been considerate of our feelings at all,' George agreed. 'I suppose we'll have to forgive him anyway.'

'Thanks,' Harry said, only half-sarcastically.

'We just wish we were getting you for a brother-in-law instead of Fleur for a sister-in-law,' Fred grumbled.

'Life's not fair,' George added, nodding.

At this, Harry was greatly touched.

***

Harry thought Fred and George were right about the wedding; nice as it must be for Bill and Fleur, it was dull to watch. They spent about an hour sitting in chairs outside, waiting for it to begin, and then the ceremony itself dragged on as the priest made his speech. Mrs Weasley had to cast a Silencing Spell on herself to keep her sobs from interrupting the ceremony. Harry noticed that Fleur's mother, a radiant, silver-haired half-Veela who nearly outshone her daughter at Fleur's own wedding, had to do the same, though she could at least cry into her husband's shoulder (who was blatantly teary-eyed himself).

Little Gabrielle, Fleur's sister, sat beside her parents, too old to be a flower girl and too young to be a bridesmaid. Harry looked away quickly, not wanting to encourage Gabrielle's frequent glances at him. He had the feeling that she had developed a crush on him after he rescued her from the mermaid's grotto during the Triwizard Tournament. As often as Gabrielle's gaze was on him, his was drawn to Ginny, who was attracting far too much attention of her own for Harry's liking in her strapless bridesmaid's dress combined with that too-inviting smile of hers.

The reception was no better at first. Harry was dragged into the formal photographs at the Minister's insistence, and felt as though his mere presence was disruptive to the peace when Mr Delacour had to argue with his father several times over Harry's placement. If the Minister could have his way, Harry would be standing in front of the bride and groom, with the Minister himself at his side. At least Scrimgeour never wanted to make it look as though he and I were married, he thought, finding some humour in the situation. Eventually one such picture was taken, but the rest had the bride and groom at the forefront. And I wonder which one will hit the front page of the French papers tomorrow?

Harry was released after about twenty minutes of this torment and headed straight to the hors d'oeuvres. He had missed breakfast that morning while talking with Ron and had missed lunch quizzing the Weasley twins. He filled up his plate and took a bite; it tasted good enough, but the lightness of the food made him even hungrier than before.

Hermione called out to him and made her way through the crowd. Harry waved; as she got nearer, he noticed a familiar hulking figure he hadn't seen in a long while. 'Krum!' Harry tried to say through a great mouthful of food. Krum's taciturn expression broke into a broad smile when he saw Harry.

'Harry, Viktor's here!' Hermione said, looking up at Krum joyfully.

Krum drew even with Hermione and offered his hand to Harry. Harry grasped it tightly, and the two locked eyes as they engaged in a fierce but friendly handshake. 'It's great to see you again, Krum.'

Krum nodded, his expression back to the usual scowl, though Harry remembered Krum well enough to know he shouldn't take offence.

'Viktor and I just met up a few minutes ago,' Hermione elaborated, speaking loudly to be heard over the crowd. 'There are so many people here that we might have missed each other completely!'

Despite being glad to see Viktor Krum again, Harry couldn't think of a single thing to say to him. He quickly decided on the typical 'What have you been up to these past few years?'

'Quidditch,' Krum replied curtly.

'Ah,' Harry said, now completely out of conversation topics and looking at Hermione, hoping she could carry on.

As luck would have it, Ginny, in that bridesmaid's dress that showed off far too much of her figure, burst through a wall of men in tuxedos. 'Hermione, they need us for bridesmaid pictures,' she informed her breathlessly, grabbing her arm and pulling her back the way she came.

'Be back in a bit!' Hermione called to them as she was led off.

Harry and Krum were left alone, looking anywhere but each other. Harry stared down at Krum's shoes, shuffling from one foot to the other. 'Er, so, any good Quidditch matches?' he asked, looking up briefly.

Krum shrugged, and Harry breathed out a sigh of discomfort.

'Harry,' Krum began. Harry looked up at Krum; hands in his pockets, slouched, and staring at the floor, Krum looked just as discomposed as Harry felt. 'I vant to haff a vord.'

Harry, with a brief and unpleasant flashback to the last time he had heard Krum ask him for a moment alone, nodded, and the two managed to eke their way through the spread of guests into the relative privacy of a corner just outside the reception room.

Harry leaned against the wall. Krum looked him in the eye intensely, and Harry was wondering if this would be about Hermione again, in which case he had every intention of telling Krum that Hermione was with Ron now, thanks very much. But after looking side to side to make sure no one was near enough to hear, he asked, in a conspiratorial whisper, 'Do you still play Quidditch?'

Harry raised an eyebrow. 'Yeah, why?'

Krum frowned as though not expecting to be questioned about his interest. Looking nervous, he said, 'There's a man named Kneen.'

After waiting several moments for some follow-up, Harry prompted him. 'And?'

Krum's large squared fingers twitched as though imagining themselves reaching for a Snitch. 'You should talk vith him.'

'Why?'

'He is a Quidditch scout. You are very good.'

Harry blinked rapidly in surprise, his mouth falling open. Viktor Krum thought he should go pro? His mouth soon snapped shut as his brain caught up with his heart and he remembered that now was not a time for Quidditch. 'I, uh, thanks, Krum, really, but -'

'He could put you vith the Heidelberg Harriers,' Krum continued forcefully. 'They are looking for a new Seeker.'

'The German team?'

Krum nodded again, his strained features making it clear that he was not accustomed to stringing so many English words together. 'Or there are the Woolongong Wanderers.'

'Australia?' Harry's eyebrows just about climbed up into his hairline.

Again, Krum nodded grimly. His face drooped. 'It is no good for you in England right now.'

Harry immediately realized what this was all about. 'Krum, I appreciate your concern,' Harry said sincerely, 'but I can't leave England now. I have to fight.'

'You are too young to fight,' Krum said, glowering.

'I'm turning seventeen this month,' Harry replied. Krum just stared. 'And I've fought Voldemort before, you know!'

'You haff been lucky,' Krum said seriously. He took out a card from the pocket of his robes. 'In case you change your mind.' He forced the card into Harry's hand. 'Take care.' Then Krum turned his back on Harry and returned to the reception.

Harry stood there stupefied, staring at the space where Krum had disappeared into the crowd.

'Good advice.'

Harry jumped and circled around. Tired and hungry, with the disappointment of having to turn down the Quidditch offer still swirling in his head, he wasn't much in the mood for talking anymore. 'Another expert on my life, are you?' he challenged.

The man was exactly as tall as Harry, their eyes level. He had messy silver hair and a mischievous glint in his eye that made him look almost young. His wrinkled face crinkled into a smile. 'I'm just security,' he said, Harry registering his English accent. 'Call me Will.' He extended his hand, which Harry shook unenthusiastically.

Will's expression was unfazed by Harry's lukewarm reaction. 'My granddaughter has told me a lot about you,' he continued, his hand rising to grip Harry's shoulder. Harry fought off a wave of discomfort. 'She thinks quite highly of you.'

This must be the decent grandfather, then. Remembering the high opinion of the Weasley twins, Harry decided to be more polite. 'You must be very happy for your granddaughter.'

He gave a short laugh. 'I meant Gabrielle, not Fleur, though she likes you too. But yes, I am happy for her. The man has the face of a troll, but she thinks he's the bee's knees, so it's all right by me. My marriage wasn't normal, so who am I to throw stones?' He flashed a lopsided smile.

Harry briefly wondered what he meant until he remembered that one of Fleur's grandmothers had been a Veela, and that probably made for an odd match to say the least. He wasn't too happy with the comment about Bill, but at least Fleur's grandfather wasn't opposed to the marriage.

Will put his arm around Harry and led him away from the reception. 'So you're Harry Potter. I thought you would be taller.' He chuckled. 'I bet you get that all the time.'

Harry didn't know how to respond, so he stayed silent as the noise of the reception dulled. He couldn't help but watch Will walking, for it was the most unusual walk he'd ever seen, a combination of tipsy arm gestures in the air and an almost feminine sway. Soon he spoke again. 'You're just the sort of person I expected, though. Gryffindor, I take it?' he asked. When Harry nodded, Will's face turned wistful. 'I was in Hufflepuff, myself. Highly underrated, Hufflepuff. Going into your last year?'

'Yes, sir,' Harry said. It wasn't true, but telling a white lie during small talk with a man he'd just met didn't prick Harry's conscience any. Much.

'You're a terrible liar,' Will responded. Harry stopped dead in his tracks; the man faced him, his eyebrows raised and his wand tapping at Harry arm as if to scold him. 'You're going to want to work on that. Half the battle takes place in the mind. Best you could do is win the physical bit and come out even. Not too useful.' He stroked his chin and rocked back and forth on his heels. Then he seemed to spot something in the air and directed his attention to it, his head swaying.

Harry didn't think he liked Will. There was something about the way he moved and talked that gave Harry the impression he wasn't entirely ... sane. 'Excuse me. I should get back to the reception.'

'Excellent idea!' Will declared, either unaware or wilfully ignoring Harry's attempt to escape him. 'If that old goat Delacour is done taking pictures, maybe I'll manage to get in one with my granddaughter. I don't get on with that poncy French blighter.'

***

The Minister was not done directing the photo shoot, and Will baldly refused to go near the Minister, so Harry was saddled with Will following him around. When Harry sat down, Will took a seat next to him, disregarding the nameplates. For the next half hour Will carried on the conversation, though Harry considered it more of a monologue. Every couple of minutes were punctuated by some slur on the French, which made Harry wonder why the man had decided to live in France for longer than Harry had been alive. Even so, Will's voice had a sort of inflection to it that made him sound too interesting to be ignored no matter what he said, so Harry listened casually, finally managing to clean off the plate of food he had piled up before, not caring that some of it was unappetizingly cold.

'Oi, Will!'

The man stopped mid-sentence. 'Lads!' he greeted cheerily.

Fred and George Weasley pulled up a couple of chairs in front of Harry and Will. 'Bored stiff yet?' Will asked. The twins smirked and nodded. Loudly, he added, 'I do hope you've come up with something to rescue us from this monotony?'

The twins shrank away. 'Er, we didn't think it right to disrupt a wedding ...'

'Nonsense!' Will argued. 'Best place for a dollop of laughter and explosions, if you ask me. Oh!' Will's attention was caught by some movement at the bar. 'Thank Hufflepuff, they're getting rid of that cocktail garbage and getting to the good stuff!' Without so much as a goodbye, Will got up and swaggered to the bar.

'He's not playing with a full deck, is he?' Harry said, leaning over conspiratorially and tapping a finger to the side of his head.

'Fleur says he went funny after his wife died,' Fred said, a touch of rebuke in his tone.

'Oh.'

'He's a nice bloke. And coming over here was a good excuse for getting away from those ugly cousins of Fleur's.' George's lip curled. 'How is it that she got all the beauty in the family?'

'The others aren't from the Veela side,' Fred said by way of explanation. 'He must have been clever at some point, that Will, to get his hands on a Veela.'

'If he wrote a book on how to do it, it would be a bestseller!' George said, laughing.

The twins stayed with him through the first dance of the bride and groom and moved names around so they were sitting by him at dinner. While it was nice having someone to talk to, Harry was now fairly sure that Ron had put them up to hanging around with him. As they talked, Harry watched Hermione out of the corner of his eye. She was getting awfully chummy with Krum in Harry's opinion. And on her other side was Ginny, who was talking with some French bloke, but Harry tried very hard not to look at her at all after the first, helpless glance. It's none of my business who she talks to, Harry reminded himself pointedly. At least with Hermione I have a friend's interests at heart.

He continued his occasional observations of Hermione as she moved on to the dance floor with Krum. Then Ginny moved to dance near Hermione and Krum with That French Bloke and Harry firmly looked away, putting his full attention into the twins' conversation. So when he was tapped lightly on the shoulder by slim fingers and saw Ginny, her hair up with wisps settled gently around the sides of her face, wearing That Dress and flashing That Smile, he was taken completely unprepared.

'Harry, dance with me,' she said. The twins gaped at her, and Harry nearly spit out the Butterbeer he had been downing.

'You're not supposed to ask him!' George protested.

'It's the nineties,' she said simply.

She was almost perfect. The only thing wrong to Harry was that she didn't smell right with perfume on, but he could still taste a flutter of her in the air. How could he refuse? What could any Dark wizard read into him dancing once with his best friend's sister at a wedding? 'Sure,' he said, less casually than he'd been trying for.

Her smile broadened, and she held out her hand to him as he stood. Feeling blatantly inadequate next to her wearing nothing fancier than he had at the Yule Ball at the age of fourteen while she was standing in front of him dressed like a princess, he self-consciously took her hand and tried very hard to look tall and charming like That French Bloke had.

It wasn't until he got to the dance floor that Harry realized he hadn't danced for over two years, and then only poorly. The next song came on: it was a slow dance. Merlin save me, he pleaded.

Surviving a Killing Curse was less a miracle to Harry than managing not to embarrass himself in the first minute. He wasn't nearly so good a dancer as That French Bloke, he knew, but he wasn't the worst on the floor. Fred and George had somehow found partners out of Fleur's distinctly less pretty cousins in the short space of time between Ginny leading him off and the start of the dance and were doing everything in their power to trod on toes and bump into other couples. Harry knew they could dance from the Yule Ball, so he realized they must be doing it to take some heat off him; if he missed a step, it would look like nothing in comparison. Never before had he realized just how cool the twins were. He and Ginny both laughed as Fred's partner stalked off the dance floor in a huff.

During the dance they ended up near Hermione and Krum. 'Hi Harry,' Hermione greeted him, smiling. Harry nodded to her briskly, grimacing, and her smile fell; he was pretty sure he had gotten across the message that he wasn't impressed when she and Krum quickly moved off.

'They're just friends,' Ginny said reproachfully.

'Then why are they dancing together?'

Ginny raised her eyebrows, her lips curling into a sardonic smile. Harry flushed as he realized what he'd just said. 'My mum danced with Mr Delacour, and somehow I don't think she's intending to leave my dad,' she retorted, still smiling at Harry's faux pas.

'Er, yeah, right, completely right,' Harry stuttered, keen to get off the topic. 'So, er, having a good time?'

'Right now, or in general?'

Harry was at that moment powerfully aware of his hand on her waist, his fingers starting to sweat. 'In general,' Harry clarified.

'It's been nice enough,' she replied. 'Bill is very happy.'

'Food's too light,' Harry commented. Ginny giggled softly, shaking her head, and Harry's mouth went dry at the sight of her.

The song ended and he slowly removed his hands. They loitered in the middle of the dance floor. 'I guess I should get going,' Harry said after a while.

Ginny looked up at him sadly. 'Yes.'

'Well, uh, bye.'

'Bye.'

***

Lying in bed staring at the darkened wall in the guest room that night, the twins not yet back from whatever mischief they were up to, he wondered what had possessed Ginny to ask him to dance. He wasn't unhappy about it, but it did scare him a little. Every time he was near her he wondered how he would go on without her for the foreseeable future. Ruddy R.A.B. Ruddy cup, ruddy snake, ruddy ...

Love. There was Bill and Fleur, in the first flush of marriage and off on their honeymoon. Then there were those couples who were happily married for ages and their love never managed to die, like Mr and Mrs Weasley. And then there was Fleur's grandfather, drinking his pain away after losing his wife of who knew how many years; and he and Ginny, who might never have a real chance at all. Would it all end tragically? Bill was in the Order, as were Mr and Mrs Weasley. Will Fleur end up pining for Bill? Will Mrs Weasley lose Mr Weasley? Maybe the other way around? Would Ginny mourn me, if ...? The thought made him shudder. He didn't want her to be unhappy, but he did want to be loved, and by her. He wanted to run away with her to the other side of the globe. But Bill, Mr Weasley ...

For the umpteenth time that evening Harry told himself that this was why he couldn't possibly run off to Australia. He could never consider the offer seriously for a fraction of a second anyway, with all the sacrifices already made now depending on him to prove they weren't in vain, but the fantasy of slipping away at night with Ginny, not a care in the world, was still a pleasant one. Not that she would go with me. He remembered the way she had hugged her father the morning Harry had arrived after leaving Privet Drive. We both have responsibilities. People we care for and fear for ...

He smothered the embers of his waking dream and rolled over.

The locket, the cup, the snake, something of Gryffindor's or Ravenclaw's ...