No one was excited for the end of year feast. No seventh years eager to graduate and join the adult world, no homesick first years keen to see their parents again. Gryffindor won the house cup, but it was not a celebrating matter.
There would be no Hogwarts Express in the morning. It was too dangerous, too big a target for attack. Voldemort would happily endanger children if it meant drawing the Light out to defend them.
Not everyone was staying. A lot of students, Harry knew, had families in safehouses already, and were desperate to join them. The parents at the Pottery were looking forward to having their children back with them.
And of course, there were those students who had nothing to fear from the wider world. Those who would go home to their families quite happily, live a fairly ordinary summer while their parents or cousins or siblings went off to serve a madman. The lucky students were the ones too young to be expected to fight.
Many students would be going home only to offer their arms up for branding. Marking themselves for death.
So it was a solemn affair that closed out the school year, Harry sat at his table with Neville on one side and Katie on the other. He kept his head down, stayed silent, ignored the whispers. His thoughts were already on the days to come.
At least he had recovered from the attack on the wards. Two days in the Hospital Wing, some potions, and a full twelve hours sleep had done wonders for him, and the other heirs. They had not bled themselves dry, not even close — they were reinforcing the wards with their strength, not offering up all their magic — but it was still an exhausting process.
Harry lingered in the hall after the empty dessert plates vanished from the table. He waved off the gentle concern of his friends, promising to see them back at the common room soon. He made his way up towards the staff table; McGonagall was lingering, too.
"All set for tomorrow?" he asked. The headmistress nodded sharply.
"I now understand how you were so sure of Miss Dunbar's father's whereabouts."
Harry's lips flickered in a weak smile — McGonagall had finally been made aware of the Pottery, and Grimmauld. Not of the secrets themselves, but of their existence, their purpose. It was the only way she would accept allowing Sirius to send over the portkeys for the students. "This war began long before the Ministry was taken, Professor," he said, thinking back on the days when Voldemort had been just a vague threat, and the need to hide from Dumbledore was almost as urgent. "Indeed." Together they watched the students file out of the hall, not a single one of them excitedly discussing their summer plans, as they would in a normal year. Even the ones who would be leaving looked like they were going to battle.
They looked as exhausted as Harry felt.
"What will the housing situation be, once the students are set?" Harry queried — he had left those sorts of decisions up to the staff, as they were none of his business.
"All remaining students will be moved down to the Hufflepuff dormitories. Slytherin house will remain open for any adults seeking refuge who are not here to fight. The rest we will split between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw." McGonagall's lips pursed. "I have offered your godfathers rooms within the empty staff quarters."
"I'm staying in Gryffindor," Harry told her. "I'm not going down with the students." He needed to be a leader, not a child.
To his relief, McGonagall nodded. "I expected as much. Yourself and Mr Longbottom shall remain in your dormitory, along with anyone you wish to join you. I trust I can expect the pair of you to behave responsibly."
A brief flicker of a smile. "No wild parties, promise." Then a thought. "It's not us you have to worry about. The twins are coming back."
The headmistress gave a long-suffering sigh. "I have realised that, yes. My hope is that Miss Johnson and Mr Zabini will keep them from causing too much trouble. Failing that, their elder brothers."
"Good luck with that," Harry said with a snort.
A head of silver-blond hair approached him as the last of the students left the hall. Harry held out a hand, twining his fingers with Draco's. "Pack your trunk tonight," Harry requested, watching confusion cross the Slytherin's face. "You're moving up with me tomorrow."
Grey eyes darted nervously towards the headmistress. "That— that's allowed?"
McGonagall eyed them knowingly, the barest hint of a smile. "I daresay even if I said no, you'd find yourself up there anyway." She looked a little sad, gaze dropping to their joined hands. "Times like these, we should hold on to the joys that we have even tighter. I shall not begrudge you that, Mr Potter, with the task you have to face."
Harry nodded, squeezing Draco's hand that little bit tighter. At last, the hall was empty but for the three of them.
"It begins, then," Harry murmured, looking up at the magical night sky of the ceiling. It was a clear night — a full moon night. Part of him wished Remus had come early, so that he could take his fox form and run with his godfathers, feel that freedom.
One last chance before his birthday to do so.
But there would be more chances, after. He was sure of it. He had to believe.
Suddenly, a slow smile crept across his face. "Would you like to see something cool, Professor?" he asked. McGonagall blinked at him, bewildered.
"I— pardon?" Harry just grinned wider, awaiting an answer. "I get the feeling you will show me regardless, Potter." She looked to Draco, as if expecting an explanation, but the blond was equally baffled.
Harry stepped back, and where he once stood, there was suddenly a fox on the floor. He jumped up onto the end of the Gryffindor table, standing proud for his professor to see. She gasped sharply. "Oh, my." Harry yipped happily, turning a circle to show off his beautiful tail. "Well, then," McGonagall murmured, and if Harry wasn't mistaken she was a little misty-eyed. "I suppose that's Sirius Black's doing, is it?" Harry yipped again, giving a fox grin. "Indeed. You do your parents proud, Potter. Even if you're more trouble than all the Weasleys combined." Harry barked in a laugh, then began running down the Gryffindor table, headed towards the doors. He stopped halfway, looking over his shoulder at Draco, barking pointedly.
Draco sighed. "So demanding," he muttered, rolling his eyes. "Have a good night, Professor."
And then he turned, transforming mid-stride, and a snowy owl soared across the room, gliding gracefully between the floating candles, hooting as the fox began running once more.
McGonagall could do nothing but stare at the animals, watching them disappear from the hall. Then, once she was alone, she laughed.
.-.-.
None of Harry's friends were leaving. When they packed up, it was only to relocate, and they didn't have to bother with goodbyes in the morning. Most of them were prefects, so they took on the job of making sure the students got to their portkeys on time, and organising the ones remaining down in the Hufflepuff dorms.
Harry was not a prefect, and therefore had more pressing matters to attend to. "Sirius!" He hugged his godfather crushingly tight before the man could even let go of Ceri's hand.
"Hello, pup." Sirius held him for a long moment, nose buried in the wild Potter hair. "Let me look at you." He studied Harry at arms length, as if checking him over for injuries, then winked. "Handsome bugger, just like your dad."
Harry laughed, wriggling out of Sirius' gentle grip and hugging Charlie, who ruffled his hair. "Good to see you, Harry. Where's Draco at?"
"We're not attached at the hip y'know," Harry muttered indignantly. Two sets of eyebrows rose, as if to say 'oh really?' "He's prefect-ing. Moving kids into the Hufflepuff dorms."
"Ahh, of course. Where have you ended up, then?"
Harry walked with the pair through the halls towards their new quarters, explaining the plans for the school now that summer had arrived. "You two have one of the empty staff suites," he added. "You're supposed to be sharing it with Moony, but…"
Sirius snorted — there was no way Remus was going to sleep away from Snape in the same damn castle. "Guess we've got a spare room, then. Lucky us. You want it, pup?" he offered. Harry made a face.
"And see you two wandering around naked in the mornings? I'll pass, thanks. Besides, if I moved in there everyone would know about Moony in a heartbeat."
"Ha! Fair point. Ah well, might be useful for something," Sirius mused, hitching his bag further up his shoulder. "So, what sort of numbers are we looking at?"
It was a long morning, getting everyone settled in the appropriate places. Several of the older students kicked up a fuss about being moved to Hufflepuff when they fully intended to fight, so McGonagall relented and agreed anyone of-age could bunk up in the Ravenclaw dorms.
Of course, that led to Ron Weasley throwing a tantrum about having to go to Ravenclaw when Harry and Neville were staying in their Gryffindor dorm, but by that point the twins had arrived and were happy to loudly describe the type of things Ron might see should he stay in Gryffindor — namely Draco; Draco and Harry performing various sexual acts; and even the possibility of Ginny and Neville performing various sexual acts. It worked to deter Ron, but also the twins managed to gross themselves out at the thought of their baby sister in such situations. Harry just laughed.
"What do you think, Gin?" he asked, smirking. "Wanna move in with your boyfriend and a couple of queers?"
"Mum would kill me," Ginny said with a snort. "I'll pack my trunk after lunch."
Across the table, Neville turned pink.
.-.-.
The first few days were awkward, to say the least. The younger students weren't sure what to do, with no lessons and a whole bunch of strange adults gradually filtering into the castle. There was very little supervision, other than the fifth year prefects still living down in the Hufflepuff dorms, and Professor Sprout herself.
Surprisingly, it was Neville who provided an answer. "We'll work the HA with them," he suggested. "Obviously, not at the level the rest of us are doing. But they're here, and they need to be kept busy. And— they might need the practice, if worst comes to worst."
"It'll help, Nev, but I really don't have time to teach a bunch of second years how to Stun each other," Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair.
"We'll do it," Neville suggested, looking surprised by his own answer. "I mean— we know enough to teach the kids. And we can work on a rotation. You've got your own training and all. I'll talk to Sully, they're still down in Hufflepuff and from what I've heard the kids love them. Between us we'll sort something out."
Harry wasn't going to argue with that; it was one less thing for him to think about.
Mrs Weasley did indeed go apoplectic over the idea of her not-quite-sixteen year-old daughter sharing a dormitory with three older boys, one of which was her boyfriend. Harry felt sorry for Professor McGonagall having to deal with that one; they all knew that even if Ginny was ordered down to the Hufflepuff dorms, she'd find a way to sneak back up to Gryffindor anyway.
"Mum's trying to make me share a dorm with her and Dad, like I'm five," Ginny grumbled as she stomped into the dorm that evening, not even bothering to knock.
"Technically you are underage," Draco pointed out diplomatically.
"So's Neville, for another month! And Harry!" Ginny argued hotly.
"Yeah, you cradle-robber," Harry teased, nudging Draco's hip with his foot. Draco grabbed it, tickling the bottom of his foot in revenge.
"What does your dad say?" Draco asked.
"I told him we were in separate beds, but I think even he knew I was lying through my teeth. We had a really awkward conversation about pregnancy and Weasley fertility, and then he said that he knew I was too stubborn to do as I was told regardless so he just hoped I'd be sensible about things."
With a bit of magic, the boys' dormitory had transformed from a room holding five single beds to a room holding two doubles, with a makeshift partition in the middle that could be warded for privacy. Ginny didn't seem to give a single shit about any of the boys seeing her in various states of undress — Harry supposed after living with six brothers she had relegated Harry and Draco into that zone — but it was still good to have that boundary, if only at night.
Some things Harry didn't ever want to hear.
"Honestly I think they're more worried about me deciding to fight than where I'm sleeping. As if I'm going to let everyone I love step on that battlefield and just twiddle my thumbs down in Hufflepuff with the firsties," Ginny said, face a picture of disgust.
"Wait until they see a proper HA session," Harry told her with a smirk. "They'll realise they've got nothing to worry about." He would guarantee that his HA were more prepared for battle than most of the people coming to the school preparing to fight.
Harry scheduled that first session a week into summer, just as people were beginning to get restless. He made sure to check with McGonagall that they could claim the Great Hall for it — the headmistress had the tiniest of smirks when she agreed, and Harry suspected she knew exactly what he was trying to do.
So he reached for his inkwell, and etched a message on the silver plate. Training. Great Hall, Tuesday, 3PM. He made sure to clarify, not wanting those outside the castle to think it was an emergency meeting. To his surprise, many of them turned up at the Hogwarts gates on Tuesday morning, bags slung over their shoulders. "Alright, Potter," Cassius greeted, nodding in his direction. "Room for one more?"
"Always," Harry said, grasping the Slytherin's forearm in welcome. "Where's…?" He trailed off, not sure if he could name Cassius' partner where others could hear.
"Finishing out the season, best he can," Cassius explained. "I left him my inkwell, he says he'll come when it's time."
Harry grinned — of course, even a war wouldn't tear Oliver Wood away from quidditch.
At 3PM on the dot, Harry stood on the raised platform at the head of the Great Hall, looking at the cluster of students in front of him. Around the edges of the hall lingered a number of the adults now living in the castle; either because they didn't know where else to go, or they were curious about what Harry Potter was up to this time.
"Alright, everyone. Welcome back, to a few familiar faces," he added, nodding to the returned graduates. "I thought we'd start off easy, get warmed up. Some of you might be a little rusty." His voice was teasing, and Patrick flipped him off from the back of the group. "Pair up, get going. Aiming to disarm, for now — Madam Pomfrey has better things to do than reattach limbs. Although Draco's gotten better at it, so y'know. If you fancy your chances." He wiggled his eyebrows. "I'll be roaming."
They got to work straight away, and Harry stayed where he was, watching with no small amount of pride as his students began duelling. He could see the exact moment their onlookers realised they weren't just sticking to student-level spells, watching their eyes widen and their jaws slacken. Molly Weasley looked like she might faint as she saw Ginny ducking a Reductor curse and sending back a sickly orange hex that would have dislocated both of Cho's kneecaps if she'd let it hit.
Harry walked between the pairs, pointing out weak spots, offering advice. Occasionally a spell came his way, forcing him to dodge or deflect — perhaps their spectators thought it was sloppy casting, but Harry knew it was intentional. They were all checking Harry was still paying attention.
"When this is all over," a deep baritone murmured, and Harry looked up as he reached the edge of the group to see Kingsley approaching him, "I'm going to need names. Any of these kids want to be an auror, they're in." He squeezed Harry's shoulder. "I'd offer the same to you if I thought you'd take it. You've done a damn fine job with them. What year is that scrawny kid in?" He was pointing at Dennis Creevey, who was duelling against Justin Finch-Fletchley and holding his own remarkably well.
"Just finished his third," Harry answered. Kingsley let out a low whistle.
"Fucking hell, Potter. Aren't his parents stopping him from fighting?"
"Muggleborn. They're in hiding," Harry explained. "His big brother isn't thrilled — Colin, over there, year below me — but I don't think he'd trust anyone else guarding his back. You should see them duel together, you'd swear they were twins." Colin and Dennis working as a team was truly a force to be reckoned with.
Kingsley just shook his head in astonishment, folding his arms over his broad chest.
Harry walked back to his platform, stopping the duels with a firework from his wand. "Not as rusty as I thought," he joked. "Good to see it."
"Are you gonna give us a challenge, or what?" Lee Jordan taunted playfully.
"Well, if you insist," Harry mock-sighed. "Groups of four, rotate through some three-on-ones."
There was a reshuffle of positions, and the duelling began again. Harry didn't want to push them too hard too soon, but he needed them to be ready.
Harry let them go on with that for another twenty minutes or so, then called break time — immediately, house elves filled the staff table with drinks and snacks.
"Well, well, this does look like fun," drawled a voice from the doorway. Bill had arrived, with Fleur at his side, both of them looking impressed. Harry was right beside the cluster of redheads sprinting to greet the pair excitedly.
"What are you two doing here?" Harry asked, raising his eyebrows. "Last I heard, you were in France until at least next week."
"Cut it short," Bill said with a shrug, Fleur leaned into his side, beaming.
"We are getting married," she announced in delight.
"Yes, dear, that's usually what that big shiny rock on your finger means," Harry teased. She huffed, shooting him a glare.
"She means here," Bill supplied. "Now. This weekend." He looked at his gathered family. "If… if you're up for it."
"I— this weekend? As in four days away?" Mrs Weasley asked, flabbergasted. Bill's returning smile was sheepish.
"Yeah? McGonagall says it's fine, and… we never really wanted anything big or fussy. But, hell, if I'm gonna die, I want to do so as Fleur's husband."
Fleur smacked his arm, rolling her eyes. "No one is going to die," she insisted, "stop being dramatic." She looked back to Mrs Weasley. "We know it is short notice. But we do not want to wait any longer. I… I hope you are willing to join us."
"You're sure you want me there?" Mrs Weasley asked, voice sad. "After everything?"
Harry didn't miss how Bill's gaze flicked his way for just a moment.
"There's still a lot I'm mad at you for, Mum," Bill admitted. "But we're working through it. And I don't want to look back on my wedding day and regret that you weren't there."
Mrs Weasley clasped her son's hand between hers, nodding tearfully. "Then I'd love to."
"Brilliant. Dad? You in?"
"…Is Fleur pregnant?" Mr Weasley asked suspiciously. "Because if she is, that's still no reason to rush."
Fleur laughed. "Non, Arthur, I am not pregnant. Just ready to be married."
"Well, then. We've got a lot of work to do in a short space of time!" Mr Weasley clapped his hands together, beaming. "What's the plan, then?"
Harry grinned — some may think the timing wildly inappropriate, but he rather thought a wedding was exactly what they needed to boost morale.
.-.
Because of their wedding plans, Fleur had already brought her parents and sister with her on the trip back from France. Mr Delacour turned out to be an ex-duelling champion, and he was more than happy to stay and fight, while Mrs Delacour was a healer who gladly agreed to assist Madam Pomfrey. Gabrielle, now almost twelve, was delighted to see Harry — if a bit put out by meeting his boyfriend, proving her crush had not yet faded entirely.
The day after, another surprise arrival came in the form of Viktor Krum. Harry met the Bulgarian seeker in the Entrance Hall, having felt his arrival through the wards.
"Viktor," he greeted warmly, shaking his hand and pulling him in for a quick hug. "You heard about the wedding, then?"
"I did, but I am here for more than that," Viktor replied, his English coming easier than it had when Harry last spoke to him, though his accent was still present. "I told you I would fight with you."
Harry's face turned serious. "Then thank you; we're glad to have you with us." Viktor had been chosen as Triwizard champion for a reason, and his skill with a wand would be a boost for their side. "Come on in, we'll get you set up with a bed somewhere. I'm afraid it's likely to be dorms, but I can probably get you a single. Or at the very least, sharing with someone who isn't likely to fawn all over you."
Viktor's smile didn't falter. "Dorms are fine; I'm sure I haff done worse for quidditch!" He chuckled. "It is good to see you again, Harry. Good to see you are finally tall enough for that Firebolt of yours," he added teasingly.
"I am a respectable five foot eight, thank you very much," Harry told him archly. He was hardly two inches shorter than Viktor, now; seekers weren't usually very tall.
Harry led the way up the stairs, going over his mental checklist to be sure there was room in Gryffindor. "We'll have to catch Fleur at dinner tonight, if she's not too busy with wedding stuff," he mused. "Cho's around too, somewhere. We can have a proper little reunion." His voice was sad; Cedric should have been there, preparing to fight with them. He would have loved to see everyone coming together again.
"We will raise a glass in Cedric's honour," Viktor suggested quietly, smile dimming at the corners.
"Yeah. I'd like that."
Harry was glad, in a way, that Viktor had returned — this war had begun in the tournament, with the resurrection of Voldemort, the manipulation of the four champions. It was right that they be together again to end it.
"There are more waiting, at Durmstrang," Viktor told him. "Word of your war has spread; many of your people have turned to Europe, as you know. We did not know if reinforcements were needed, but — you haff allies, should you need them."
"That's… that's good to know. Thanks." Harry wasn't sure if there would be time, when the battle came, but he wouldn't turn his nose up at more help.
And it would be good to have people in other countries ready to receive people, if the worst came to pass.
"However, I do also come bearing better news," Viktor said, brightening up a little. "Let us call it an incentive for you to win this battle quickly." Harry raised a curious eyebrow. "I was talking to a friend, the other day. A player for the Vratsa Vultures, but English. He knows the manager for the English national team, and mentioned to me that they have begun preparing for the World Cup next summer."
Harry's heart stuttered, and he stopped in his tracks. Viktor grinned at him. "You have a tryout for seeker, on August 23rd. If such things are possible by then." He gripped Harry by the shoulders, pressing their foreheads together for a brief moment. "So survive this war, Harry Potter, so I can face you on the pitch once more and reclaim my pride. Yes?"
"You're serious?" Harry asked incredulously. Viktor nodded. "Hell. I— that doesn't give me much time, if I get injured in the fight."
"Then do not get injured," Viktor challenged, smirking. A snort escaped Harry.
"I'll try my best."
Seeker tryouts, for the England team. Draco was going to lose his mind. "I— don't tell anyone, yeah?" He didn't want that kind of pressure on top of everything else.
He didn't want people mourning one more thing if he wasn't there to make it happen.
Viktor mimed zipping his lips shut. "Our secret," he promised.
They stopped outside the entrance to Gryffindor Tower. "This is the quieter of the two dorms we've got set up for adults. Not as many people, more married couples and the like. The other one, Ravenclaw Tower, that's holding all the of-age students, younger single people, that sort of crowd." It was much more packed in there, but no one seemed to mind.
"But not you?" Viktor presumed, and Harry's smile turned wry.
"Not me," he confirmed. "I'm in here. Bit more peace and quiet. We haven't been bothering with passwords," he added, knocking on the edge of the frame and smiling at the Fat Lady as she waved at them both. "Just knock, the dorms will open." Hufflepuff was the only place with a password, being home to many younger children.
Harry was not anticipating the Weasley family gathering in the Gryffindor common room; it seemed they were planning wedding things, if the parchment in Mrs Delacour's lap was anything to go by. All of them froze, and then Fleur squealed.
"Viktor! You made it!" She jumped up, throwing herself at the Bulgarian man.
"I would not miss it for the world," he promised, kissing her on both cheeks. "I am sorry to interrupt; Harry was just finding me a room."
"If there's nowhere free, you can stay with us," Bill offered, getting up to shake Viktor's hand.
"When you are getting married in three days?" Viktor asked skeptically. Bill laughed.
"Maybe not on that night," he corrected with a wink. "But the rest of the time, sure. I mean, if we wanted a honeymoon, we'd have waited."
Viktor glanced to Harry, who shrugged. "Works for me." With how many new people had shown up lately, Harry wasn't sure there was enough space for Viktor to have his own room. At least this way he'd be staying with family.
"That's settled, then," Viktor agreed. "Should we leave you to your planning?"
"Nonsense! We are practically done," Fleur insisted, taking him by the hand. "Come, join us. You too, Harry! We were just deciding on music. Bill insists on throwing muggle bands into the list and I do not know enough to know if I should let him!" She giggled, shooting her soon-to-be husband a fond look. "Don't worry, I have a lot of opinions about muggle bands," Harry assured her.
He almost walked straight into Viktor's back as the broad-shouldered seeker stopped in his tracks. Peering over his shoulders, Harry tried not to grimace. He hadn't noticed her before, but Hermione was sat with the group, squeezed into a large armchair with Ron. She was looking up at the Bulgarian in shock, while Ron was steadily turning redder, jaw clenching with poorly-hidden jealousy.
"Hi, Viktor," Hermione greeted, her voice thin and a little too high. Viktor inclined his head.
"Hello, Hermione." He had finally got the hang of pronouncing her name. "You are looking well."
Ron looked like he might explode, grabbing Hermione's hand possessively. Harry winced, climbing over the back of the sofa to squeeze himself in between George and Ginny. "That's a disaster waiting to happen," he muttered under his breath, watching warily as Viktor was led to a seat beside Fleur. Ginny snorted.
"I hope there's popcorn," was all she said, eyes lighting up with glee.
.-.-.
Between the combined power of Mrs Weasley and Mrs Delacour, everything was set for the wedding on the afternoon of Saturday the 9th of July. Harry, Draco and Neville got ready together in their dorm; Ginny, as a bridesmaid, was getting ready with Gabrielle and Fleur elsewhere.
Harry was wearing the purple dress robes he wore to Slughorn's Christmas party, and it didn't take much convincing for Draco to wear his grey ones. Neville, too, seemed to have decided to wear the same robes from the party, shrugging and pointing out that they were hardly two events within the same social calendar.
Despite the rising number of people now living within the castle, they had made it very clear that the wedding was a family affair. McGonagall had organised a private marquee out by the lake, and also agreed to officiate. Harry hadn't realised that was within her skill set — the headmistress was full of surprises.
Just as it had for Slughorn's party, walking through the castle in full formalwear felt incredibly strange to Harry. At least he was part of a group; Viktor left the common room with them, but they were joined by Blaise and Angelina at the top of the staircase, and by Sirius, Remus and Narcissa on the second floor.
"Oh, those robes suit you so nicely, Harry, darling," Narcissa cooed happily, and he grinned.
"They're really great, thank you. Way better than anything I probably would have picked out," he added with a rueful smile that made both Draco and Sirius snort.
"Don't you all clean up nicely," Sirius told them, eyes trailing over the group.
"Not so bad yourself there, old man," Harry teased; indeed, Sirius looked incredibly handsome in his cobalt blue dress robes, embroidered with very subtle constellations.
"Less of the old, thank you," Sirius growled playfully, "or I'll ruin that hair you worked so hard on."
"Touch it and I'll cut your hands off," Draco warned. "I spent half an hour making that mop look presentable." He offered his mother an arm when they reached the Entrance Hall, but she waved him off.
"Stay with your beau, sweetheart. I already have a charming gentleman to escort me." She looped her arm through Remus', and set off out the door.
Harry wondered how much of that friendship was based around embarrassing childhood stories of one Severus Snape — a man who had been invited to the wedding, but may not actually show his face. He was still dancing the thin line between both sides, and didn't want to cause a fuss with his presence.
Also Harry was pretty sure he just didn't like weddings.
The marquee awaited them, with a twin at each side of the entrance in identical dark gold dress robes. Angelina and Blaise had absolutely no trouble telling them apart, greeting their respective partners happily.
"Well, well, what a fine looking bunch we have here," Fred drawled, winking. "Go on in, sit wherever, just leave the front row clear. And save me a seat, gorgeous," he added to Angelina. As Harry made to enter the tent, George caught his elbow. "Hey, go sit with Cass, would you? Ollie's running late and I think he's feeling a bit awkward."
The Slytherin was sat by himself in the third row, looking handsome but mildly uncomfortable. Harry nodded, and he and Draco went to join the dark-haired boy, Viktor following along — with Fleur otherwise occupied and Cho not yet arrived, Harry was the only person he really knew all that well, unless he decided to send Ron's blood pressure through the roof by sitting with Hermione.
"No last regrets about not stealing her away at the Yule Ball?" Harry said by way of greeting, startling Cassius. He chuckled, tension in his shoulders easing as Draco sat beside him.
"No, none of that. Just wondering if they might have the right idea — small affair, family only. Well, family and me, apparently," he added.
"Oh, hush, Fleur loves you," Harry said with a roll of his eyes; the pair had kept in touch after the Yule Ball and now Cassius was easily one of Fleur's favourite people. "You deserve to be here just as much as we do."
"Alright, mates," Tonks cut in quietly, shuffling into the row behind them. "Don't you look nice."
Tonks' light green dress robes were fairly masculine in style, though the body beneath them was more feminine-shaped. Harry propped his arm on the back of his chair to turn around properly.
"Hi, Tonks. What we going with today?"
"Oh! She's fine, thanks," Tonks assured, grinning. Harry grinned back.
"Cool. I like your robes. And the hair." Tonks had decided to go back to her family roots with a jet black pixie cut, though her eyes were a similar shade of green to her robes.
"Thanks! You look great, too. All matchy-matchy, very cute," she teased, patting Draco's cheek.
Into the seat beside her dropped Kingsley, wearing moss-green robes with two wide bands of bold black and gold geometric pattern running vertically down the front, and a hat to match. His knee knocked against Tonks', making Harry grin.
"We not hiding this anymore, then?" he asked, looking pointedly at the pair of them.
"Don't know what you're talking about, Harry," Tonks said breezily. "Totally normal, two co-workers sitting next to each other at a friend's wedding. Nothing suspicious at all. Those co-workers might even dance together at said wedding."
"And when those co-workers get caught snogging round the back of the marquee?" Harry teased.
"Then the four-eyed little twerp who catches them had better keep his mouth shut," Tonks continued in the same tone. Harry snickered.
"Noted."
There was a bit of noise, and a burgundy-clad figure hurried into the tent — Cassius' shoulders slumped in relief as Oliver hurried around the edge of the seats, sinking into the empty one at his partner's side. "Sorry, sorry, I know I'm late, things ran over," he whispered, kissing Cassius' cheek apologetically. "You're lucky it's not started yet," Cassius said, though he wasn't truly mad. Oliver squeezed his thigh and winked, then looked down the rest of the row.
"Alright, lads," he greeted. "Aye up, Viktor, when did you get in?"
"Wednesday," Viktor replied, thick brows furrowed. "I did not realise you knew Bill and Fleur."
Oliver's grin widened. "I know them well enough, but I'm mostly here for this one," he explained, jerking a thumb towards Cassius — his left thumb, so he could uncurl his hand and show off his engagement ring. Viktor made a quiet noise of realisation.
"Ahh, your mysterious partner is Cassius? I did not know. Congratulations."
"Hang on, how do you two know each other?" Harry cut in, confused — if Viktor hadn't known about Cassius, then how? Oliver had graduated by the time the Tournament happened.
Oliver and Viktor exchanged a look. "Quidditch," they said in unison.
"It's a small world, even internationally," Oliver elaborated. "And remind me, Potter, to catch you when the party starts. I need a word," he added with a pointed look.
Harry wondered if, in this small world of quidditch, Oliver might have heard about the tryout Viktor had arranged for him.
Suddenly, Professor McGonagall appeared at the head of the aisle, beneath the archway threaded with white and gold flowers, and the whole room went hushed. "Please be standing for the entrance of the bride and groom."
Harry, who had only ever seen muggle weddings on telly but who was sure that wasn't how it went, stood all the same, Draco's fingers finding his. Soft music began to play, and the curtain of fabric covering the entrance was lifted.
Bill entered, walking between his mother and father. His dress robes were bright gold, embroidered with runes all around the cuffs and hem, and the Prewett family crest on his left breast. His parents wore darker gold, a similar shade to the twins. When they reached McGonagall, they hugged their son tightly, and moved to sit down. Mrs Weasley was already crying, pulling a handkerchief from her sleeve as she sat.
The music changed, and the curtain was lifted a second time. Harry's breath caught in his throat.
Fleur did not need a single ounce of her veela charm to have everyone in the room utterly captivated.
Her wedding dress was a gorgeous, form-fitting piece with lace over the shoulders and low back, ending in a long lace train. A silver tiara held her veil in place, sparkling with diamonds, and her silver-blonde hair was loose down her back in a perfect curtain of silk.
Glancing back at Bill, Harry was unsurprised to see the redhead looking absolutely gobsmacked.
Like Bill, she had her mother on one side and her father on the other. Coming up behind her was Gabrielle in a pretty pale gold dress robe, just barely tall enough to be escorted by Charlie, who looked incredibly handsome in identical robes to Fred and George.
Bringing up the rear was Ginny, her robe the same as Gabrielle's, and beside her— "Percy!"
The quiet gasp blurted from Mrs Weasley, who immediately covered her mouth with her hand. Percy Weasley resolutely did not look in his parents' direction, stepping perfectly in time with Ginny, all the way up the aisle. When they reached the front, Percy continued to escort Ginny to her seat, making sure he was sat beside her — as far from his parents as possible.
Harry had to hand it to the man; he had balls of steel, making an entrance like that. He wondered how long ago Bill and Percy had planned that.
As Best Man, Charlie stood off to the side while Bill and Fleur faced each other in front of McGonagall.
"Welcome, friends, and thank you for gathering for this wonderful occasion," McGonagall began, "where we will join these two here in matrimony, by magic and by life, with the full permission and blessing of their family lines. Please, be seated."
They all sat, the music fading out. Her speech continued, talking a lot about magic and the soul and things that sounded like very traditional wording but went right over Harry's head — the muggle stuff he'd seen was all about God and heaven and stuff, and there was none of that in a magical wedding. He had no idea if what was happening was a standard wedding or not.
He should probably research that, when the war was over. All things considered.
He let the headmistress' words wash over him, reaching for Draco's hand once more and leaning slightly against him, smiling when Draco brought their joined hands up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the back of Harry's.
At last, it came to a part that was more familiar to Harry. Bill reverently moved Fleur's veil off her face, properly revealing her shining blue eyes, a few tears already escaping. "William, please offer your vows," McGonagall prompted. Bill swallowed thickly.
"Fleur Apolline Delacour," he began, voice husky with emotion. "I vow to you my magic and my life, my heart and my home — whatever is mine we shall share, whatever I am is yours to keep. I will share in your joy, and also your sadness. I will walk at your side, in this life and that which comes after. I will hold my duty to our family above all other loyalties — any challenge to you is a challenge to me also, because we are one in spirit and mind."
He paused, swallowing again, wiping quickly at his face in a way that made several people chuckle quietly. "I vow to protect you, to cherish you, and to love you until the last of my magic fades. This I vow by the magic in my blood, so mote it be."
Fleur was definitely crying by now, but her voice didn't waver as she offered her own vows in return.
Then, instead of asking for rings, the couple joined both hands together between them, and McGonagall raised her wand. "These vows have been made by magic, and by magic will they be kept," she declared — gold light shot from her wand, wrapping around Bill and Fleur's joined hands like a thick rope. "We who gather here today do offer our blessings upon this union, and all that follows from it. We offer our witness of their vows, and our magic to aid in their keeping. So mote it be."
"So mote it be," came the murmur of the crowd. As he recited the words, Harry felt a small spark within him, and the gold light around Fleur and Bill flashed even brighter, changing shape; it shrank down, becoming the wedding rings on their fingers, bright gold and glimmering in the light.
"Lord William Arthur Weasley, and Fleur Apolline Delacour, by the will of Magic I pronounce you wed," McGonagall said, finally breaking into a smile as Bill cupped Fleur's face and kissed her. The whole tent broke out into applause, the twins wolf-whistling in loud unison when the kiss just kept on going.
Finally they parted, and Bill offered his new wife his arm. Draco nudged Harry into standing and once all the guests were out of their seats, the pair began their journey down the aisle. Wands were raised, shooting gold and silver sparks over the pair as they walked. Harry couldn't stop the smile taking over his face — Bill and Fleur both looked so happy. He glanced to Draco, catching a suspicious glimmer in the blond's eye. "Are you crying?" he murmured, leaning in close to be heard over all the cheering. Draco glared at him, wiping at his eyes.
"It's not a crime to cry at weddings," he muttered petulantly. Harry chuckled and kissed his cheek.
"No, but it is very cute," he informed him. Draco blushed. "So what happens now?"
"Now we go outside, probably pose for some pictures, while the house elves move things around for the party in here," Draco said, following Viktor out of the aisle. At the front of the tent, Mrs Weasley had finally made her way to Percy, and Harry could hear snippets of her talking — he couldn't tell if she was scolding her son or apologising to him, not through all the crying.
He wisely decided it was none of his business, and let his boyfriend lead him out onto the lawn.
Harry was surprised to see Colin Creevey out there with his camera, wearing a muggle tux that was very likely transfigured. He grinned at Harry, holding the camera up in a gesture, then turned back to Bill and Fleur — the pair were stood arm in arm, looking like a true fairytale couple, smiling like they had never been happier in their lives.
Harry found himself stood with Draco, Remus and Narcissa, while the group spread out a bit. Sirius had gone off to go and paw at Charlie in his dress robes.
"So that's a magical wedding then, is it?" Harry remarked, looking at the gathered crowd. Perhaps thirty of them in all; still a decent turnout for such a last minute decision.
"Pretty much," Remus said. "Obviously they vary from case to case. Bill and Fleur kept it fairly simple; often there's a bit more pomp and circumstance, and sometimes even a ritual in the really old-fashioned pureblood ones."
"Just some runes on the hands and drinking from the same cup," Narcissa added, seeing the slightly perturbed look on Harry's face. "Nothing unseemly."
"Wonder how different Cass and Ollie's will be," Harry mused, looking over at the couple who were chatting away with Viktor.
"Oi, Harry!" He turned around at the call, seeing Bill looking at him expectantly. He was already surrounded by his siblings and parents, a beacon of red hair and gold cloth, Fleur's white dress standing out in the very centre. "Family picture," Bill urged. Harry stared at him blankly — yes, that was indeed a picture of them all, what was his point?
George huffed, rolling his eyes. "Get over here, you clot!" he called, gesturing to a space in beside him and Ginny. "Every sibling counts, even the not-ginger ones!"
Several people snickered, and Draco pushed Harry forward until he was stumbling dazedly towards the group. "I— really?" he asked at Bill, still hesitant. Bill's grin widened.
"Yes, now hurry up before the twins start hexing eyebrows."
Ginny grabbed Harry, situating him properly in the midst of the family, and George elbowed him gently in the side. "Told you, little brother," he said under his breath. "Stuck with us forever. Now smile and look pretty."
Harry faced Colin's camera, and beamed.
.-.
After the photos, they were allowed back into the tent, which had transformed into an elegant ballroom. A magical record player was set up in the corner with a stack of records waiting beside it, and tables laden with drinks and food lined the sides, leaving plenty of room for a dance floor in the middle. Smaller round tables were dotted about as well, with chairs tucked under them in case not everyone wanted to dance.
They had all eaten lunch at the castle, so there was no formal wedding meal; just finger-foods, and of course the cake, which was a masterpiece of a dessert — three-tiered and decorated with delicate white chocolate feathers, no doubt as a nod to Fleur's veela heritage.
Bill and Fleur moved to the centre of the dance floor, and after a thumbs up from his big brother, Charlie set the first record on the player.
Harry didn't recognise the song, but he wasn't paying much attention to it anyway; the happy couple swayed in each others' arms, whispering to themselves and smiling soppily. It made Harry's chest ache in the best of ways, watching them like that.
Arms looped around his waist, pulling him back against a familiar chest, the spicy-sweet smell of Draco's aftershave tickling his nose as the blond rested his head against Harry's, body just barely swaying to the rhythm of the music. One by one, couples began to join Bill and Fleur on the dance floor; the Delacours, Mr and Mrs Weasley, Sirius and Charlie, Ginny and Neville. Draco kissed his cheek, then stepped away, offering his hand with a bow. "Dance with me?" he asked, grey eyes shining.
Harry was more than happy to oblige, accompanying his love to the dance floor. The music didn't stay slow for long, moving effortlessly between wizarding and muggle music, throwing in a slower song every now and then to ease things off. Harry was more than happy to dance with Draco — and with plenty of others who offered.
When he danced with Fleur, she was practically glowing with joy. "Thank you," she said earnestly. "Had I not met you, Harry, I would never have found my Bill. I owe all this happiness to you."
"I'm just glad that you're happy," he told her, kissing her cheek. "And I know he's my brother, but feel free to call me if he ever needs his arse kicked."
She laughed, the sound ringing out over the music and the chatter like a chorus of bells. "I will keep that in mind."
Later, when the sun was beginning to set and the twins were making noises about fireworks, Harry stood with Sirius, who had miraculously removed himself from Charlie for a while. They were watching Draco dance with his mother, two elegant blondes in a sea of fiery red hair.
"You made a plan on that, yet?" Sirius asked in a low voice, insinuation clear.
"Not yet." Nothing concrete, anyway. He had the ring and a few vague ideas, but he also had other priorities. Then, louder, "I wonder who's going to end up with the next one. Other than Cass and Ollie of course." The pair were dancing, too, lost in their own little world. Oliver had already cornered Harry to talk about the England team, saying that he was almost definitely secured as the Scottish team keeper and Harry had better work his arse off in his tryouts so they could give Scotland a proper challenge.
"Certainly a lot of couples to choose from," Fred remarked, appearing out of nowhere with Angelina on his arm. "Not us, though. Wild and free for a few more years, right, Angie?" he teased. She laughed.
"That's right. Got to make absolutely sure I'm willing to throw my lot in with this lunatic for the rest of my life." Fred feigned being wounded.
Harry lit up as Draco and Narcissa finished their dance and Draco glanced over to him, Narcissa claiming Remus for a turn about the floor.
"The rate things are going, you'd better be thinking about it, y'know," Fred said, elbowing Sirius with a leer. "Make an honest man of our Charlie before you start adopting little'uns."
Sirius blushed, though he was smiling. "Don't go getting ahead of yourselves, now," he insisted, as he always did when the subject of the Forrester kids was brought up. Draco wound an arm around Harry's hips, greeting him with a kiss to the cheek.
"I'd put a fair bet on these two," Angelina piped up, staring pointedly at Harry and Draco. Harry felt his cheeks burn hot.
"Fair bet for what?" Draco asked, having missed the start of the conversation.
"Fair bet for the next wedding, not counting Ollie and Cass," Fred elaborated. Harry tried not to tense in Draco's arms as the Slytherin blinked in surprise.
"I'm certainly not getting married until after I'm graduated," came Draco's immediate response. Oblivious to the mild panic rising in Harry, he continued. "So I'd save your money, because that's at least a year and knowing some of these lovestruck fools I highly doubt they'll hold out any longer than that."
The conversation paused when George came to fetch Fred for 'twin reasons', the two of them disappearing with identical mischievous grins.
Harry turned in Draco's arms, offering a somewhat stilted smile. "At least a year, hmm?" he asked in an undertone, raising an eyebrow.
"No marriage before we're eighteen," he said imperiously. Then he softened, gaze growing tentative. "Engagement, however, is a little more flexible."
For one heart-stopping moment, Harry wondered if his boyfriend was onto him.
"Mother might possibly kill me if I propose at school where she can't properly shriek about it, though, so there's that to keep in mind."
Trying not to relax visibly, Harry held Draco close. "Good to know," he murmured.
Draco thought he would be the one to propose, did he?
Harry would have to see about that.