Dumbledore's Army and the Year of Darkness

"What do you mean you won't change our money?" Neville gestured furiously at the sign above the window. "It says right there you change money!"

"Money." The plump, elderly man behind the counter crossed his arms, thrusting his little round chin out stubbornly. "Dollars, Yen, Marks, Francs, Yuan, what-have-you. Not trinkets."

"Listen, my dear man," Ernie was making every effort to keep his tone reasonable, but the strain still showed, "surely, even if you are not familiar with the precise currency, you do still recognize gold when you see it."

He shook his head, pushing the pile of wizarding money back at them. "I recognize four teenagers who are up to something a lot faster."

Susan and Hannah exchanged a look, then Hannah leaned forward across the counter with a smile as sweet as Honeydukes. "Okay," she purred, "so maybe we are up to something a teensy bit naughty. We're on our way up to Scotland so our friends can elope, and we're in an awful hurry, so I'd be really grateful if you'd be an absolute darling and help us out. Pretty please?"

The beady little eyes softened. "Young love, eh?"

Hannah giggled. "Exactly."

"No deal." All the softeness vanished, and the man's face set as he shook his head again with immovable finality. "Whatever you've nicked from Mummy and Daddy's coin collection, you can go somewhere else to fence it. Now get out of here before I call someone."

Neville sighed. "I really hate to do this, but you're not giving me a lot of choices." He drew his wand and waved it in the man's face. "Confundus!"

The moneychanger gave a little jerk, then blinked several times, removing his small, rimless spectacles and rubbing them on his shirttail before replacing them and staring at the four as if he had never seen them in his life. "May I help you?"

Ernie shot a grateful look at Neville, then pushed the pile of coins across the counter again. "We need to change these for Mug - er, for pounds sterling, if you please."

He picked up one of the saucer-sized gold coins and tilted it to the light, staring quizzically at the figure of Gringott the Great standing astride a vanquished dragon. "And these are ...?"

"It's a Gallus. They're each worth a hundred Galleons, which are each worth ...." Neville closed his eyes for a moment, trying to remember the sign on the exchange booth near the entrance to Diagon Alley. "Five pounds. So those are five hundred pounds each, and we've given you ten, so that's five thousand, minus your one-percent exchange fee, which would make it four thousand, nine hundred fifty."

Still looking befuddled, the moneychanger nodded slowly as he took the coins, then opened a drawer and began to withdraw a stack of brightly colored parchment slips. "Yes ..." he said slowly, "I suppose that's exactly how it would work out, isn't it?" He lay the piles on the counter, counting them out as he did so. "So that's one, two, three, four thousand, five hundred, six, seven, eight, nine, and twenty, forty ... fifty. Pleasure doing business with you."

"Thanks!" Ernie scooped up the Muggle money and folded it hastily into the pocket of his robes, hurrying off before the charm had a chance to fade. As soon as they were a safe distance away, he stopped, pulling out the thick wad and separating it into four piles. "I hope this is enough," he frowned, and Neville shook his head.

"Ernie, you just dropped ten of a coin that most wizards never even deal with, and you scarcely blinked! Hell, you could buy a Nimbus 2005 with that kind of gold! It's got to be plenty, no matter what prices are like in the Muggle world." Neville stared down at the stack of notes he now held, restraining the impulse to examine them with too much curiosity. They had to try and pass as Muggles now, and they would certainly not be fascinated by their own currency. Carefully folding them, he pushed them into the deepest pocket of his trousers.

"I suppose so," Ernie admitted cautiously, "but I do have more, just in case ... so what now?" He looked at Neville expectantly. Despite the fact that he had no more experience in the Muggle world than anyone else, the other three seemed to be turning to him for leadership out of habit, and Neville took a deep breath and looked around the cavernous station.

"Uh ... well, we should probably do something about how we're dressed," he suggested. "We're getting a lot of funny looks. Let's get rid of the robes and try to break up how much we all match until we can get some proper Muggle clothes ... it's still pretty obviously a uniform, even with three in yellow and one in red."

He shrugged out of his own robes as he said this, bundling them into his trunk, and the other three followed suit quickly; Susan performing an amazing maneuver that involved taking her shirt off under her cardigan without ever actually removing the latter, leaving it as a rather daringly low-cut sweater, then using her tie to pull back her hair. Hannah, meanwhile, simply stripped off the cardigan and tie entirely, packing them away with her robes and leaving just the white shirt and gray skirt, and Ernie stripped down to just his t-shirt and trousers to set himself apart from Neville, who got rid of the vest, but kept his shirt and crimson and gold striped tie. As they looked at each other, trying to decide if they blended in sufficiently with the Muggle crowd, a loud whistle went up nearby.

They turned, and Neville saw a group of teenaged Muggle girls leaning over a railing on the level above, leering at Ernie, whose muscular build was rather explicitly outlined by the tight-fitting t-shirt. "Oh, come on!" the boldest of them called. "Chuck the rest, why don't you? Ain't a thing to be ashamed of, and we were just starting to really fancy the show!" Susan gave them a filthy glare, extending first the finger with the ring on it, then two others entirely, but the girl only laughed. "Lucky you! Although if you ever get sick of her, handsome, you can feel free to look me up!"

"No, thank you," Ernie called back up at them, slipping an arm around Susan's waist and kissing her on the cheek. "I'm done looking!"

With a few dramatic moans of disappointment, the girls continued on their way, and Susan turned, swatting her fiancé playfully on the chest with a scowl of mock jealousy. "Put your shirt back on. I don't want to defend my territory all the way from here to Scotland."

"Yes, ma'am." He pulled the shirt back out of his trunk and slipped it on, leaving it unbuttoned and untucked. "So..." He nodded his head towards the ticket windows. "Which one?"

Neville fished out the piece of parchment Colin had given him and squinted at the lettering that had faded over the weeks it had spent in his pocket. "National Express East Coast. Northbound to Edinburgh." He looked around at the dizzying array of constantly changing signs, then gave up and tapped a gentleman who appeared to be in a railway uniform. "Excuse me ... where do we buy tickets for the ... well, this one?" He showed the slip to the man, who gave him a rather patronizing look in return.

"You're standing not ten feet from it, boy. That queue right there." He pointed behind them, and Neville blushed. The man laughed. "Never been anywhere by train before?"

"Um ..." He didn't know how to answer that, but the man seemed to take that as answer enough and patted him fondly on the shoulder. "It's all right, first time for everything, and at least it's not an airplane. Hate those, myself. Just get your tickets, check your trunks there" -- he pointed across the concourse -- "get your claim slips, and get on your train. Nothing to fret about. You'll have a great time." He hurried on his way before Neville could quite thank him for his help.

"Okay, then, let's get in queue." Neville reached for his wand, intending to charm his trunk to follow him, but at the last moment, he remembered that they needed to be extremely careful using magic and bent to take the handle instead and drag it behind him. It was a lot heavier than he had really realized before, and they seemed to make an alarming amount of noise and attract an even more alarming amount of attention as they joined the queue, because the scraping had upset Orion, who hooted indignantly and flapped in his cage.

When they reached the window, Neville was relieved to see a pleasant-looking middle-aged woman who reminded him a great deal of Mrs. Weasley, despite her salt-and-pepper brown hair. "Destination, dear?" she smiled.

"Four one-way to Gretna Green on the Edinburgh train, ma'am," Neville replied, pulling out his share of the money and laying it on the counter.

She laughed. "Which of you boys is marrying which of you ladies, so I can get the congratulations right?"

Neville blinked, stunned, then gestured at his two friends. "Just them, actually. We're witnessing. But how did you ...?"

"There's only one reason young couples have gone to Gretna Green for the last three hundred years." She slid four tickets across to them, and began to count out notes from the bundle. "That'll be two-forty and seventy-three pence. Good luck to you, then, and congratulations. My husband and I have been married thirty years this April, and I have one piece of advice for you, young man:" -- she handed the change back to Neville, but her eyes were on Ernie --"She's always right. That, and don't miss your train. It leaves at four."

Ernie laughed and shook her hand. "Thanks, ma'am. I'll remember that." He paused, then tilted his head. "Say, you wouldn't happen to know somewhere around here we could buy some clothes, would you? We, uh ... forgot a few things."

"Of course." She nodded helpfully. "There's a Marks & Spencer not far from here on Liverpool. Go left out the doors there, left again on Upper, then it's just a wee left onto Liverpool and you can't miss it. It's about a mile, so you can walk it or take a cab if you like."

They nodded, thanking her once again, and Neville smiled as they began to drag their trunks towards the baggage check. "This isn't so bad, really. Great idea asking her about the store, though. Let's get our trunks checked, and we'll just walk there and pick up a couple bits and pieces so we can blend in better."

They showed their tickets to the boy manning the luggage check, and he took the trunks happily, but Orion was another matter entirely. He folded his arms across his chest, shaking his head fervently at the brass cage. "No way. No how. No can do."

Hannah reached through the bars and nuzzled Orion's softly feathered face with the back of her finger. "But he's just an owl," she protested. "He's really well behaved, I promise."

"Look, sister, I don't care if he's a bleedin' budgie who sings God Save the Queen and can serve high tea. No birds on the train." He lifted the cage off the trunk and handed it to her. "And don't bother cryin'. I hate it when girls cry, and it still don't get no owl on the train."

"It's okay." Hannah took the cage, looking a little miffed that he had suggested she might burst into tears, and opened it. Several people screamed as Orion soared out, flying in a wide, silent circle to stretch his wings before landing lightly on his mistress' outstretched arm. The luggage attendant was speechless, but Hannah just gave him a frown of completely innocent confusion. "I'm not letting him go, I'm just sending him ahead."

She looked into the bird's large, intelligent golden eyes. "We're going to Gretna Green, Orion, but we're not leaving until four, and we're taking an ordinary train, so you can do whatever you want until you're ready to meet us there. Just don't get in trouble."

The owl bobbed his head in understanding, then hooted once and took off, gliding smoothly towards the exit. The attendant had grown pale, his jaw nearly on the polished floor. "It ... it ... it understood you!"

"Of course," Hannah answered calmly.

"What are you, a witch?!"

"As a matte--"

Neville grabbed her arm, cutting her off before she could say anything more as he scowled at the attendant. "What did you call my girlfriend?" He took a step forward, using his height over the smaller man as he balled his hands into fists and tried to manufacture the most intimidating look he had ever seen used by Crabbe and Goyle. "Say it again so I have reason to jin--hit you."

"Look, mate," the attendant raised his hands defensively, "I'm sorry. Owl speaks English, owl speaks French, owl speaks Chinese ... none of my business as long as owl ain't on the train!"

"Well, owl went out the door, so why don't you just give us those--" he motioned to the claim slips, "--and we'll be on our way."

"Gladly!" Neville took the little slips and pocketed them as they started towards the exit themselves, trying to ignore the number of stares they had attracted.

Hannah gave him an amused little smile and slid one arm around his waist. "Am I supposed to say 'my hero?'"

He chuckled, nuzzling his cheek against her hair. "Next time I get chained to a wall for you, sure, but not for scaring some poor Muggle bloke to cover up that you were about to blow it that you're a witch."

"Fair enough."

They pushed open the doors leading to the Camden streets outside, and Susan gave a little shriek, ducking back as the icy December wind struck her. "We checked our cloaks," she moaned. "We'll freeze solid!"

Neville looked around at his friends, feeling embarrassed at having not thought of that himself. "Have we all passed our Apparition tests yet? I did mine in August, just before school."

All three nodded, but Ernie frowned. "Don't you think people will notice if we just twirl around and vanish into thin air?"

"Good point." Neville nodded. "All right then. It's too cold to walk, so you two south-coast girls stay in here. Ernie's Highland stock, and I'm a Dales kid, so we can handle it long enough to get us a cab." He gritted his teeth in preparation for the bitter cold, then the two young men stepped outside.

There were an entire line of taxis waiting at the curb, and it took only minutes to find one who was willing to ferry the four teenagers to the nearby store, but by the time he had fetched Hannah and Susan from the station and climbed into the cozily heated interior, Neville was shivering fiercely. Hannah noticed, sliding tightly up against him in the rear seat and wrapping his chilled fingers in her own warm hands. She lifted them to her mouth, taking the fingertips between her lips, and he gasped as an entirely different kind of shiver shot through him.

"I've never ridden in one of these before," she whispered, her breath tickling his hands. "It's fun."

He smiled back at her, and the cabbie looked back over his shoulder. "Oi there, no funny business in my cab!"

"Sorry, sir." Neville shifted awkwardly, pulling his hands away from Hannah's mouth and folding them stiffly in his lap.

The ride took only a few minutes, and then they were there. Neville had wondered if he would be able to find the store when they got there, but it was clear that would not be a problem. Marks & Spencer, PLC was emblazoned across the front in huge, brightly lit letters, and below it, the holiday displays in the windows snowed, spun, glittered, and danced so vividly that it was hard to believe that it was all accomplished somehow without so much as a trace of magic. Shoppers laden down with all manner of packages and bags hurried in and out of the doors in a steady flow of holiday bustle, and music rang out from an unseen wireless, serenading them with what seemed to be a Muggle version of "God Rest Ye Merrie Hippogriffs."

Ernie paid the cabbie, and they scurried quickly inside, only to find that the interior was even more astonishing than the windows. It was as though all of Diagon Alley had collected into a single giant store, everything from shining silver Muggle-style cauldrons to sequined and ribboned hats piled onto tables and shelves wherever they looked. A Christmas tree as tall as the ones Hagrid brought into the Great Hall at Hogwarts stood in the center of the entryway, glittering with mirrored balls and tiny, twinkling lights, and garlands strung lavishly from every possible place they could be hung. The air was rich with the delicious scent of apples and spices, and everywhere, bold signs advertised all manner of savings and discounts to attract the attention of the shoppers who seemed utterly unimpressed by the surroundings that were making the young wizards gape in awe.

Neville pointed above them to a sign that indicated a dozen types of goods from Housewares to Shoes, each marked with arrows. "It looks like we'll need to split up. Women's things are that way, Men's on the next floor." He glanced at the two girls with a look of concern. "Do you think you'll be okay?"

Susan laughed. "Don't worry about us. Girls can figure out how to shop pretty much anywhere. Meet back here at half two?"

Ernie nodded, giving her a quick kiss. "Sounds good. And if you need more money ..."

"We'll put something back. Honestly, Ernie, I don't think I could bring myself to spend that kind of gold, even if it is in little parchments. I wasn't raised with it the way you were." There was a slightly scolding edge to her tone, and Neville was surprised to see a flash of pain in his friend's hazel eyes.

"All right, then. See you at half two." The girls disappeared quickly into the crowd of shoppers, and after they had braved the moving stairway to the second floor, Neville turned to the other young man in concern.

"Ernie, is everything okay? I mean, your Dad did seem to come around to it. Is there something else?" he asked gently. "Cold feet?"

"Not in the least!" They made their way through a display of blaring Muggle wireless sets and flashing, wildly moving portraits that made Neville dizzy to look at, and Ernie shrugged, clearly trying to brush it off as nothing. "I'm just worried, that's all."

"About what?"

"I can understand where he's coming from ... I mean, he doesn't want me marrying some Galleondigger who thinks she'll come into a pile of gold if I don't make it, but you heard him. Susan gets nothing when I die if we haven't been married at least a year. She hasn't been spreading it around, but the Ministry seized her family's assets earlier this summer because of her aunt, and her parents are Order sympathizers, too. They're flat broke. If something happens to me ..." He trailed off with a little shiver, then pointed ahead. "There we are: Men's section."

A tall, thin Muggle in a pristinely pressed suit met them at the edge of the clothing racks, his meager, gingery hair combed uselessly over his gleamingly bald scalp as he looked down a long, crooked nose at the two young men, his eyes narrowing at Ernie's open, rumpled shirt and the tear in the knee of Neville's trousers. "Is there something I can help you ... gentlemen with?" His pronunciation was overly flawless, with an aristocratic drawl that was distastefully reminiscent of Malfoy.

"Possibly." Ernie had drawn himself up with immaculate posture, and he met the salesman's stare with one of equally arch superiority. Neville barely managed to keep a straight face. At Hogwarts, Ernie often came off as dreadfully pompous himself to those who didn't know him well enough to know that he was just insecure about coming from a family who remained determinedly rural despite their wealth. Now he was calling on every inch of that image, and the look on the face of the Muggle salesman was priceless as he withdrew the thick wad of notes with a flourish. "My associate and myself have recently returned from an extremely difficult journey, and we will be needing a few accoutrements before our train leaves this afternoon."

The salesman gave a deep, ingratiating bow. "Of course, Mr ..."

"Macmillan, from the Inverness Macmillans. Exclusive suppliers of Demiguise and fine woolens to all the best establishments, but I'm sure you know that."

He nodded, though both of them knew that the odds were he did not even know what a Demiguise was. "Ah, yes, now I recognize the name, certainly ... I am Mr. Dinwitty, but you may call me Lawrence, if you wish."

"Thank you, Laurie." Ernie glanced around, then pointed to a statue of a Muggle man wearing what appeared to be a version of dress robes with a short, tight-fitting jacket instead of the loose outer robe. "I'll be needing that, and something a little more casual. My friend will be wanting the same. Price is not a factor, but I would insist on quality."

Mr. Dinwitty bowed again, unable to hide the greedy flush that had appeared high on his thin cheeks. "Two tuxedos, then, and ... are you looking for sportswear, suits, outerwear? I'd be happy to help you with whatever you need."

Ernie hesitated only a moment. "Something for the weather, of course, and something for the train. Nice, but not ostentatious, and not too trendy. Classic, you know. But not old-fashioned ... we're young enough lads, we have no particular wish to dress like our grandfathers. Perhaps two outfits and something for the cold beyond the ... the tuxedo for each of us?"

"My pleasure. Come with me." He motioned them forward between the racks, and Ernie strode ahead as though he had not only been there a thousand times, but quite probably owned the entire establishment, even as Neville followed along behind Mr. Dinwitty with distinctly less confidence. He knew very little about fashion even in the wizarding world. His Gran had always bought his clothes, and what few things he had gotten for himself were the same exact items in different sizes as needed. Although a great many things had been purchased second-hand or handed down from his father, it was more from thrift than poverty, and he had never felt poorly dressed among his friends at Hogwarts when they had cause to wear anything other than uniforms.

Listening now, however, to Ernie deftly handle questions about notched collars and French cuffs, dodging neatly around the differences between the wizard and Muggle clothing when he ran up against it, Neville knew that for the first time since stepping off the train that morning, he was truly in far, far over his head in a very, very different world.

OOO

By the time they finished, both Neville and Ernie were dressed in brand new Muggle clothing, their other parcels having been sent ahead to the station with Mr. Dinwitty's assurances that they would be checked onto the train under the appropriate names without the slightest trouble, thanks to Ernie's generous gratuity. Neville kept glancing at himself in the mirrors they passed, not quite able to believe that the wealthy-looking young Muggle man who looked back at him was his own reflection. He seemed older somehow, more refined, and he wondered rather nervously what Hannah would think.

After a great deal of debate between Ernie and the salesman, of which he had very little part, he was wearing a pair of tan woolen trousers and an olive-colored turtleneck sweater made of the softest material he had ever felt, and he had a new coat that was a dark brown, buttery leather with lamb's wool at the collar, which Mr. Dinwitty had called a 'bahmer.' The sleeves of the jacket felt oddly tight and constricting, but it was overall much more comfortable than he had expected, and he had to admit that they blended in completely. For himself, Ernie had chosen trousers of deep navy, with a cream-colored, thickly knit sweater that emphasized his broad shoulders, and a vaguely military-looking overcoat of navy wool with two rows of brass buttons down the front, which he had left open to let it swirl behind him almost like a cloak, the red satin lining flashing in the bright lights of the store.

They took the same moving staircase down to the lower floor just as his new watch - a bizarre affair with no hands at all, but rather little numbers made of black dashes on a flat silver background - told him it was half two, and the girls were already waiting for them. Neville froze, scarcely aware of the moving staircase continuing to slide under the heels of his shoes as irate Muggle shoppers pushed past him on either side and Ernie hurried forward to sweep Susan off her feet in a hug as if he hadn't seen her for years.

Hannah looked stunning. She had cut her hair; the thick, heavy waves that had once come nearly to her waist when they weren't tied up in pigtails now snipped into shoulder-length layers of loose curls that framed her heart-shaped face in a soft cloud of gold. Shimmering green outlined her eyes, making them gleam like emeralds, and she wore a black top that was cut low and clung magnificently to every curve of her figure over a knee-length skirt of a slightly deeper green and tall, black, high-heeled boots. Her coat, like his, was leather, but it was almost floor-length, glossy black and belted at the waist. She smiled at him uncertainly, blushing. "Neville ... is it ... you don't hate it, do you? I know it's kind of different, but the salesgirl said I should try something a little more grown up, and ..."

Susan turned in Ernie's arms, laughing as she saw him. Her own coat was heather gray wool, similar in style to Hannah's, though what she wore beneath was hidden in their embrace. "I think we might have to take him to St. Mungo's. Poor boy's speechless."

Neville shook his head harshly, only then realizing that he was still stopped at the foot of the staircase. He stepped quickly aside, his mouth opening and closing without managing to form words. Hannah giggled, then leaned forward to kiss him. "You look very nice, too."

Ernie frowned anxiously at Susan. "Did you have enough?"

"Plenty." She pointed at an impressive pile of bags near where Hannah had been standing. "And that's including her haircut and some Muggle cosmetics for both of us. There was a really sweet lady who showed us how to use them and everything. She didn't even seem suspicious that we didn't know how; said she knew every way there was to doctor a uniform and knew we'd been at boarding school." Susan pulled away from Ernie's arms, and as she turned, he saw that she had on a pair of closely fitted blue jeans and a shimmery, scarlet top. "I don't know about you all, but I'm starving. Want to get something to eat before we head back to King's Cross for our train?"

Neville nodded, grateful for a reason to attempt to use his brain again. "Probably should. We don't know if they'll have a trolley on a Muggle train, and it's a four-hour trip to Gretna Green."

Hannah tugged his sleeve, pointing at the sign above them. "They have a café here, want to try?"

"Sure." She slipped her arm through his as he and Ernie gathered up the bags and they followed the direction the arrow was pointing. He knew he was probably being rude, but he couldn't stop staring at her, and she seemed equal parts delighted and a little uncomfortable with the open attention as she nervously fingered the ends of her new haircut.

"It's still me, you know," she said.

"I know ..." He hesitated, searching for words. "It's just really different, but in a good way."

She chuckled, and there was an oddly sad edge to her smile as she looked up at him. "Well, I suppose so much is different this year, something had to be in a good way."

"I know what you mean." Neville sighed. "Sometimes, I don't think I know who I am any more, and I don't even know if that's something that should scare me or something I should be proud of."

"It's something you should be proud of," Hannah replied firmly. "I've known you for six and a half years now. It's not so much that you've changed, it's really more that you're everything that you almost used to be. And you've been amazing with the D.A.."

He shrugged. "I've just picked up where Harry left off. I keep asking, you know, what he would have done, and I just try to do that."

"But you're better than he is at some of it. You have a real gift for teaching."

"That's not mine," he protested. "The spellwork's been coming mostly off the Ravenclaws, some of it from Ginny, like Muffliato and Levicorpus, and Ernie's the real tactical one -"

"--and that may be," she cut him off. "And Harry was a genius at Defense Against the Dark Arts, but he could only explain about half of what he did. You make things make sense to people, you know how to put the really hard stuff into plain English, make people get things, make us not feel bad about messing up, even while you're making sure we all know there won't be any margin of error. I really think you'd be a great teacher someday."

"I'd never want to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts. It's an awful subject, and the more I have to get into it, the more I hate it. I don't want to understand the way those people think." He shuddered. "It's like eating something rotten to make it go away."

"Then teach Herbology." Hannah's tone had taken on the familiar stubborn edge that he had come to know meant no hope of retreat. "Professor Sprout will be retiring eventually, you know. And you do love that. I've seen you make things grow that I would have thrown on the compost heap for dead."

"Maybe," Neville conceded, though it was more to try and close the subject than any real consideration. "What about you? What do you want to do if we get through this somehow?"

"Babies," she responded instantly. "I want to have great, wiggling, gurgling, happy piles of babies. There's been so much death, I know a lot of the girls feel the same way." Hannah patted her flat stomach over the skirt. "We can't stop the death, but we can make life, and I think there's going to be a lot of families with more kids than the Weasleys when this is over."

Neville laughed. "My Gran says my Mom wanted a big family before -" He stopped himself abruptly. "So what else are you going to do besides have a bunch of kids?"

"My Gramps owns the Leaky Cauldron. He was gonna leave it to my Mom, but ... well, you're not the only one who can dodge a subject. Anyway, it'll be coming to me soon enough, and I've always liked helping him out there. I wouldn't want to sell it, anyway. It's been in the family too long. So I think I'll go work in the pub proper, then run it myself when he dies."

They had reached the café, and they settled into the queue behind other shoppers waiting to be seated by a harried-looking young woman with a pair of rather wilted pasteboard antlers perched on her head. Hannah was quiet for a long moment, then she drew in closer to him, leaning her head against his shoulder. "Do you think it'll matter?"

"That what will matter?"

"All this talk about teaching and pubs and babies. Ernie and Susan getting married. The D.A.. I mean, will it really matter what we want to do with our lives if we're all just going to die at the end of the year anyway?" Her voice was quiet, tentative, and he thought carefully before he answered.

"I think it matters a lot. Because if we have things and people we love, plans for the future, we'll fight harder for the slim chance that we might survive. If that chance comes true, we'll have something to help us move on - because we're going to lose a lot of friends, no matter what, and we'll need that." He paused, then went on, the words coming easier now. "But if it doesn't, then we'll have fought a little harder to live, and we'll have gotten that much further before we died, and our lives will be worth that much more, whether it's tending bars or gardens or kids or just taking out one more Death Eater than we might have otherwise, and not letting that Death Eater go on to take someone else's future."

They were almost at the front of the queue now, and Hannah squeezed his arm tightly, a look on her face of such intensity that he shivered. "Then let's have Muggle food for lunch, and go on an adventure on the train, and help our friends elope in Gretna Green, and name babies and plan lessons and find Luna and help Harry and do all of it today, and twice that tomorrow, and the day after that, because if I'm going to die, I want them to pay dearly for it."

"If they kill you," Neville set down the bags, reaching to cup her chin in his hand, "I'll make sure they pay more dearly than they can imagine."

A thin, dark smile touched her lips, and she drew back, tossing her hair as her green eyes flashed. "Then I won't be sorry if they do."

OOO

The train ride itself was surprisingly similar to the Hogwarts Express the way it had been before Snape and the Carrows had modified it, and there was, in fact, a trolley. Despite having already eaten lunch at the café in Marks and Spencer, the four still bought their dinners and quite an impressive pile of snacks from the little cart. The meals themselves were exciting in their blandness, as apparently, Muggles preferred to avoid flavor of any kind while traveling, and had managed to somehow extricate it from food that seemed otherwise perfectly normal. The snacks, with their brightly colored, motionless packets, were surreptitiously reduced and hidden to show their wizarding friends when they returned to school.

Finding a place to stay was not as daunting as they had imagined, as the entire town of Gretna Green appeared to have been built entirely for the purpose - so far as they could tell - of exactly what they were doing.

Ernie was stunned.

When he had asked his Half-Blood classmate Morag MacDougal where a person got married in the Muggle world, he hadn't realized that they all did it in one place! Everything and everywhere was covered in images of weddings and romance, frozen pictures of couples kissing, laughing, walking, holding hands, exchanging vows.

Every shop and business they passed tried to find a way to appeal its wares to the engaged and the newlywed, which soon became so ridiculous that Neville and Ernie began to make jokes about it, taking turns inventing imaginary establishments if such a place existed in the wizarding world, such as the Swept Away Broomstick Emporium and I've Fallen for Floo Chimneysweep Service. The two witches, however, seemed to find the whole thing utterly charming, and Neville couldn't help but notice somewhat nervously how much of their eager whispering and pointing seemed directed not at Ernie and Susan, but at Hannah and himself.

They had to admit that it was quite a relief how helpful everyone was, and how no one seemed surprised at how clueless they were about the Muggle world. It was apparently common enough for young couples to be traveling alone for the first time to Gretna Green, and the more egregious errors were indulgently written off to nerves. Finding a hotel to stay the night was easier than they had feared, and they soon acquired two rooms, helping Hannah and Susan settle themselves in one while the boys took the other.

As soon as they were in their own room, Neville stripped off his new Muggle garments, exchanging them gratefully for his familiar old pajamas. Despite the novelty and relative comfort of the new things, it was still a relief to return to something that was exactly the same. Ernie had done likewise, as well as discovering that the small, humming box near the dresser was freezing cold on the inside, and contained a great number of small bottles, which he had arrayed on top of the box and was now staring at very intently as he sat on the end of the dresser.

"I really hope you aren't considering drinking unfamiliar potions," Neville cautioned him. "We don't know what's toxic ... those might be Muggle cleaning things."

Ernie turned, and Neville was surprised to see that his normally rosy cheeks had fallen to the color of parchment. "No, mate, it's alcohol. Look!" He held up one little bottle, pointing to the label, which showed a man in an elaborate red costume and declared the contents to be gin.

Neville's eyes widened. "Why do you suppose they've got all that in here?"

"Because," Ernie opened the bottle, tipping the contents back in a single swallow and grimacing only momentarily as it burned smartly down his throat, "they know the people in here are getting married tomorrow."

"And want to be hung over for the wedding?" He raised one eyebrow skeptically.

"And are scared to bleeding death," Ernie corrected him, assessing the other bottles before selecting one marked Bacardi and subjecting it to the same treatment as the gin.

Neville sat down on the edge of the dresser next to his friend, frowning in concern. "You having second thoughts?"

"Second, third, fourth, fifth ... quite the mathematical array, actually." He nodded, and the Absolut bottle clanked hollow into the rubbish bin.

"What's worrying you?" Neville asked gently. "I mean, there's still time to change your mind if you actually don't want to ... hey, be careful, Ernie. You don't know how strong that stuff is. Don't make yourself sick."

"Not trying to make myself sick. Trying to get myself drunk. Vast world of difference, I assure you, even though there are occasionally similarities in the precise outcome." He let out a cry of indignation as Neville confiscated the next bottle from his hand before he could drink it.

"Let's wait and see what five of those have done before you have any more, okay? Now, what's got you so worked up? You've seemed really sure this whole time."

The color had returned to Ernie's cheeks now, though it was the flush of the drinks rather than any healthy ruddiness. He nodded his head towards the wall dividing their room from the witches. "You know what they're in there talking about, don't you?"

"No," Neville admitted.

"Me. What it's going to be like for her being married to me." He stood up, blinking in a bit of surprise as he wavered for a moment, then picked up another of the little bottles over Neville's protesting look. "I'm not having any questions about if I want to spend the rest of my life - however long that is - with her, not in the slightest, no. I love her with all my heart, and doing that lightly doesn't tend to go with yellow trim on black pajamas, if you follow me. You should know that about Hannah."

"I'll remember."

"However," he continued, gesturing with the now-empty Don Julio, "this does not mean that everything is just brilliant." A panicked look came over his friend's face, and his voice dropped to an urgent whisper. "What if we live?"

Neville blinked. "You mean, you haven't considered being married to her for more than six months? Ernie!"

"No, I've thought about that a lot, I've hoped for that, even though I know there's not much chance. I want kids; little witches as lovely as her to spoil madly. But if we live, it'll mean she meets my family, and ..." He trailed off, sitting down again. For a long moment, Neville let the silence linger, then when Ernie spoke again, his words had become a little blurred at the edges, but he had also dropped every trace of the educated refinement from his pronunciation, and his burr was as thick as his father's. "She'll ken me fer a fraud, Neville."

"That's ridiculous." He reached out, putting one hand on his friend's wide shoulder. "I don't mean to be harsh if you didn't know it, but if you've been trying to hide that you're Scottish ...."

The hazel eyes blazed up at him sharply. "Nae fer a moment! I've nary a shame o'it! But ye dunna know, ye see ... ma family has a fair bit a gold, and een if she's nae a Galleondigger, she'll expect t'same as anyone that we're proper Lairds, same as t' Malfoys. An' it isna so. I'm t'only one knows or cares different tween one fork and t' next. She's ma fair maid, an' I'd have her a castle, but truth's we dunna een have a house-elf!"

"I wish you'd let me go next door - not you, you're well on your way to getting your wish about the drunk, and it's bad luck anyway - and let me tell her that. It'd really make her feel better." Neville smiled. "She's been panicking that as much as she loves you, she'd never fit into some high society world where witches sit around and tear each other to pieces because someone's wearing last month's robes and you have to Entertain, not have friends over. Hell, Ernie, I'd not be surprised if Hannah's over there trying to keep her out of the little bottles."

"Truly?"

"Truly. She loves you despite what kind of society she thinks you're from. Hannah's talked about it. She's been mad about you since second year - I think she's the only girl in your house who didn't go through a phase of being in love with Cedric - and the reason she's never said anything before recently is that she's thought you were too good for her." Ernie gave a shocked kind of hiccup, and Neville nodded.

"Susan wants to be your wife because she thinks you're brave - which I know is true - honest - which is true for anyone but Snape - strong - which is an understatement - and smart ... and that one I'm willing to agree with most of the time, except when you've cleaned out seven bottles of Muggle alcohol in fifteen minutes and are sitting there losing the ability to focus your eyes." He pulled open the box and scooped the remaining bottles back inside. "I'm willing to write that off to premarital brain damage if you're willing to accept that there's a witch in the next room who loves you exactly the way you are, and if you love her just as much, then you're not making any kind of mistake tomorrow, and I think you'll be really happy for the next six months or the next sixty years."

Ernie sat up very straight, swaying only a little as he fixed the other young man with a determined look, enunciating with extreme care and almost managing to sound like his usual self, with the exception of what had become a distinct slur. "Then it will be my ushmost pleasure to b'come joined with her t'morrow in the state of wedlock, I b'lieve."

"And it will be my utmost pleasure," Neville smiled, grabbing one arm and hoisting Ernie to his feet, "to aim you for the bed, get out my potions kit from my trunk, and try to put together something that will keep you from feeling how stupid you were in the morning, because I am your Best Man and your friend, and I hope that when I am about to get married someday, someone would do the same for me."

OOO

Neville thought that it was, all things considered, a great success that they managed to navigate the entirety of the Muggle bureaucracy in only six hours, three Confundus Charms, and one Memory Charm, albeit on no less than twenty people who had seen Orion come soaring into the courthouse with the Muggle Birth Certificate Susan had left in the hotel. By three o'clock, everything was in order, and the four of them had signed the last of the endless documents and were standing in front of a kindly-faced gentleman in a dark suit who had the unmistakable air of someone who thought they had the best job in the world.

Ernie and Neville were wearing their new Muggle tuxedos, and he was even willing to admit that they looked perhaps almost as dashing as the girls seemed to think they did, but it was Susan who was turning heads. Twice the Best Man had needed to prevent the groom from walking into pillars or falling down stairs, but it was understandable.

Susan had chosen a white satin dress, long-sleeved but bare-shouldered, with a skirt that swept the floor and swirled like a dancer with every step. Her hair was loose rather than in its usual long plait, and it cascaded raven-black in rich curls halfway down her thighs, pinned back with combs at the sides that were covered in delicate silver roses, which Neville recognized as real blossoms which had been cunningly transfigured. More of the gleaming flowers were scattered through her hair, and a sash of Macmillan tartan was tied at her narrow waist, trailing nearly to the floor behind her. Her pretty face was radiant, and her wide, dark eyes seemed to sparkle as much as the necklace at her throat as she smiled.

The man cleared his throat, reaching across his desk to take both Susan and Ernie's hands in his, his eyes twinkling, but his voice deep and solemn. "For hundreds of years, the town of Gretna Green has born witness to love of every kind, in her churches, her forges, on her bridges and hills, and here in the halls of her courthouse. She is a safe haven for those who would be held apart by family, class, fortune, or fate, and has come to symbolize the strength of marriage and the bonds of true love for untold many.

"We are here today to bring another couple into that fellowship of faith to one another, and to begin a single new life in partnership where once there were two alone. The legal requirements have been filled, but it remains for the two of you to make your own promises to one another for your life ahead, and to finalize the vows."

He released their hands, and they turned to one another, Ernie taking Susan's left hand gently in his as Neville handed him a prettily tooled gold band and he slipped it onto her finger. "Susan," he said quietly, "we cannot know what lies ahead for us, but we can know our own hearts, and mine belongs to you. With this ring, I swear to you on my most solemn oath, and by all that is magic, that I will be true to you and faithful, in heart and body, that I will love you, care for you, provide for you, protect you, cherish you and keep you, as long as there is breath in my body."

Tears had begun to trickle down Susan's cheeks, but her voice was steady as she took a second, thicker band from Hannah and placed it on Ernie's rough hand. "Ernest, no matter what tomorrow has for us in darkness or light, life or death, hope or despair, I know that I have loved you for as long as I can remember, and will love you until I know no more. With this ring, I swear to you on my most solemn oath, and by all that is magic, that I will be true to you and faithful, in heart and in body, that I will love you, care for you, abide by you, tend you, cherish you, and keep you, as long as there is breath in my body."

The two pairs of eyes flickered to the Muggle official, and he nodded. "Just what I told you, and it will be done."

Clutching her hand in both of his now, Ernie turned back to his bride. "I do solemnly declare that I know not of any lawful impediment why I, Ernest Ian Macmillan, may not be joined in matrimony to Susan Circe Amelia Bones, and I do call upon these persons here present to witness that I do take thee to be my lawful wedded wife. May it thus be known, and thus be done."

"I do solemnly declare that I know not of any lawful impediment why I, Susan Circe Amelia Bones, may not be joined in matrimony to Ernest Ian Macmillan, and I do call upon these persons here present to witness that I do take thee to be my lawful wedded husband. May it thus be known, and thus be done."

The official nodded again. "Then in the sight of all those here present, and under the law of the land and mercy of the Crown, I do declare you to be bound in the legal and civil state of matrimony." There was a long, breathless pause, and then the official laughed warmly, waving his hand at them. "Well go on, man, kiss her. She's your wife!"

Susan flung her arms around her new husband's neck with a breathless sob, and Ernie's embrace lifted her completely off her feet, turning slowly as they shared a deep, passionate kiss that seemed to go on forever, as though they knew the world was waiting for them when it ended.

Hannah caught his eye as the new couple held one another, and he hesitated only a moment before reaching out quietly and lacing his fingers through hers. He squeezed them lightly, and was grateful when she seemed to understand the message in his eyes. Someday, maybe. So much has changed ... let's just take now for what it is.

They had decided to go for a late lunch to celebrate after the wedding, as Susan had declared that she might throw up from nerves if she ate before, and they were discussing the various restaurants that had caught their eye as they emerged from the courthouse. Well, at least, Neville and Hannah were doing most of the discussion. Ernie genuinely didn't seem to care, and had not stopped grinning since the ring slid onto his new bride's finger, and Susan was still crying happily into her lace-edged handkerchief, but she had managed to lay down the decree that nothing Italian went with a white dress.

As they reached the sidewalk, something gleaming swooped down at them, and Neville had already closed his hand around the wand in the inside pocket of his jacket when he recognized the ghostly silver form of a colt which reared nervously, tossing its head before speaking with Colin's voice, more strained and frightened than any of them had ever heard from the ebullient young wizard. "I was right! Mum and Dad were killed weeks ago, and I've done the best I can, but Dennis isn't taking it well ... I can't control him! They're gonna get us for underage magic, but I had no choice ... he's just going off! Please help us!"

Its message delivered, the Patronus faded into a silver vapor that was gone on the winter wind in moments, leaving only a stunned silence behind. Four wands were out now, the girls snatching theirs from down the fronts of their dresses, and they had set themselves back to back on the pure instinct which had grown over the past months, their eyes snapping across the surrounding street for any further sign of something from their own world. Only Muggles looked back at them, confusion and bemusement on every face, and even a little fear on a few.

Neville was no longer Ernie's Best Man or Hannah's boyfriend. Such happy little roles had been laid aside in a flash of silver, and he was the Commander of Dumbledore's Army again as he thought of the panicked look on the face of the colt, the flared nostrils and white-rimmed eyes. It was a piece of magic that had taken them two months of practice to learn, and they had sworn to use it only in dire emergencies when the coins could not say enough and it was worth the risk of the Patronus being seen. That Colin would further that risk by performing the spell while he still had the Trace on him, and while he knew the recipients would be in the Muggle world ... Neville made his decision instantly.

"Apparate to Colin!" he snapped. "Be ready for anything, the Death Eaters might have gotten there already. Now go, and I'll cover you!"

There was a swirl of satin skirts and black coattails, and three loud cracks from behind him as the others vanished into thin air. A Muggle woman screamed, and Neville concentrated all the power he could muster behind a single, five-minute Obliviate Charm, building it like a bubble inside him before throwing it down his arm and out the tip of his wand to burst across the entire watching street in a flash of light. When it faded, the sidewalk where the two young couples had stood was empty, and the only sign of anything unusual on the streets of Gretna Green was a barn owl that took off from the roof of the courthouse, soaring gracefully to the south through the clear blue December sky.