Storm

Chapter 29: Storm

August 1, 1997

Five days later, at precisely five a.m., Annie awoke to tiny stones rapping themselves repeatedly at her bedroom window. Thank goodness Gran is still asleep, she thought. She pulled on some clothes and crept out the back door.

Just outside the door, she saw it was Fred who was waiting for her. Immediately, she panicked. "What's wrong?" she hissed as she dashed down the back steps.

"Nothing," Fred whispered. "Earless Wonder is fine. He's milking this injured hero business to the hilt. It's making me sick, actually." He rolled his eyes.

Annie was relieved but irritated, as well. She was tired, not to mention anxious about her Gran waking up and discovering the two of them at the crack of dawn. "Then why are you here?"

"Secret mission," Fred whispered excitedly. "Mum is keeping her ickle Georgie under lock and key, so I'm the lucky bloke who gets to drag your charming mug out of bed at this ungodly hour." Fred went on to explain that he needed to get a red hair from some fellow in town so Harry Potter could pretend to be this person during the wedding.

"So, I figure, who better to help me out than Annie?" Fred winked and turned on his most winsome grin.

Annie snorted derisively but couldn't help giggling as well. Doesn't exactly make any sense, Annie reckoned, but whatever does, these days? She tossed him the keys and the two of them clambered into the truck.

She knew exactly whom she had to ask – he was the only non-Weasley male in town she knew with red hair – but had no idea how to go about it. She wracked her brain while she directed Fred where to drive, trying to come up with a plan that would avoid actual direct contact with the potential donor. But it was no use.

As they pulled up in front of Stephen's house, she figured that there was no point in being overly deceptive and sneaking in magically – and she refused to risk exposing Fred in such a manner. She'd just swallow her pride, ask for a hair, and pray Stephen wouldn't ask why.

She had to knock three times before he finally answered the door. "Sorry to drag you out of bed so early. I need a favor."

"Shit, Annie – your timing sucks," he grumbled. Stephen hadn't bothered getting dressed before coming to the door; just stood on his stoop wearing a sheet wrapped around his waist.

Annie looked nervously away from him, avoiding his direct gaze. "Like I said, sorry. Look, I know this sounds idiotic, but, erm, well... I just need, um...." Annie got distracted when she heard a female voice call out from inside, asking him what was going on.

"Spit it out already. I've sort of got company," he said as he ran his hand through his bed-disarranged hair, smiling smugly.

"Right. I need one of your hairs. Please don't ask why," she begged, mentally crossing her fingers that for once in his life he would just be cooperative with his mouth shut.

"You're joking." He paused, waiting for a punch line. "You're not joking," he said a moment later, eyebrows raised. He grinned, then asked, "What, is it some kind of voodoo thing?" Then he reached out for her hand. "You know, if it's for a love potion, I could save you the hassle," he purred, placing her hand over his heart and holding it there.

"Ahem."

Stephen's vain attempt at seduction was interrupted by a noise from the street. He turned to notice for the first time that someone was in Annie's truck, scowling back at him.

Annie took advantage of his distraction yanked a tuft of hair out of Stephen's chest. "Thanks, mate. I really owe you one!" she called as she hurried back to the truck.

Annie waved at him as the truck pulled away. She couldn't help but wonder at the vacant, confused look that had suddenly appeared on his face. She turned to Fred and noticed he was replacing his wand back into his pocket.

Fred began to open his mouth to say something.

"Not a goddamn word," Annie warned him, and after an instant's consideration, he took her advice.

It was almost noon when she woke up that day for the second time. She stumbled into the bathroom, looked in the mirror, and winced. Her hair made her look like a victim of natural disaster. She stripped down and took a long, hot shower, which helped to wake her up.

She went into the kitchen dressed in her bathrobe and began to make something to eat. She heard her Gran shuffle toward the table behind her.

"Late night, dear?" she asked.

"Sorry, Gran. There was so much pre-wedding activity at the Weasleys' last night, I just lost complete track of the time. I should have called, I know. You weren't worried, were you?" Annie winced – she couldn't have called even if she'd thought about doing so, because her phone never worked at the Weasleys'. She'd mostly just prayed her Gran was peacefully sleeping through it, as usual.

The scene at the Burrow the night before had been rather chaotic: Molly had insisted on putting on a birthday celebration for Harry Potter on top of all the wedding hubbub, which was then crashed by no less a person than the Minister of Magic himself, delivering an inheritance of sorts from the late, great Dumbledore. There certainly seemed to be no shortage of drama at the Weasley household lately.

"I know you can take care of yourself, dear. I raised you to, remember? You're an adult and not on a leash," Gran reassured her.

"Are you hungry? I thought I'd make pancakes. Care for some?" Annie offered, weakly attempting to assuage her own guilt for neglecting her Gran.

"That sounds delightful! Thank you, dear."

Annie was still mixing the batter when Jane arrived. All three sat at the table to eat the late breakfast.

"What on earth have you done to your eyes? Did you get any sleep at all?" Jane chastised her as she took a sip of tea.

"Not a wink," Annie giggled. "You knew this mission was impossible when you signed up for it."

"Not impossible. I can work miracles!" Jane boasted.

"You'll need to," Annie laughed.

Jane spent the next hour painting Annie's fingernails and toenails to complement her dress. Normally, she was far too fidgety and impatient a person not to mar the finish, but she was so tired today she nearly dozed off waiting for the polish to dry. Annie's curly hair was pretty simple to style: there wasn't much else that could be done with it, beyond a little mousse to keep it smoothly in place.

"I feel silly putting any makeup on you. You have lovely skin, you know," Jane muttered as she gently dabbed Annie's face with a soft sponge.

"Keep flattering me – I'll pay you handsomely," Annie joked, holding motionless as Jane held her face with one hand.

She had never spent much time learning to use makeup herself, feeling it was too much of a hassle and expense to bother with. Rarely did she ever feel the need to impress someone in town, anyway. But today was a grand occasion: George's brother was getting married. Annie had never been to a Muggle wedding ceremony before, much less a magical one.

"Finished, I think," Jane sighed.

Annie took a few moments to gaze at her reflection, now fully dressed and made up. She'd never in her life felt so pleased with what she saw there. Her eyes leaped out from her face, expertly lined and shadowed as they now were. Faint rosy blush adorned the apples of her cheeks, and her lips were just the barest shade darker than natural.

"You're a miracle worker! A genius!" Annie embraced her friend and whispered her thanks.

Annie checked the clock only to realize she was nearly running late. She dashed about, collecting a few things she thought she might need and tucking them into her tiny excuse for a purse. She'd just spun around, intending to head for the back door, when she nearly careened into her grandmother.

"Sorry, Gran!" Annie cried.

"Oh, Annie, you are a vision!" she exclaimed happily, then hugged her gingerly so as not to muss the dress. "Off you go now," Gran said as she pushed her toward the door. "Don't worry about me; you stay as long as you like tonight. Have fun!" she called as Annie waved goodbye to her from the cab of the truck.

Annie felt jittery as she drove the short distance to the Burrow. She was eager to see George, of course, to make sure he was still healing all right, just as she had done every day since his injury. But she was also eager to see him all dressed up in his finery, which he hadn't let her see beforehand, and to see his reaction to her own as well. She felt slightly ashamed of what she considered was her idiotic vanity, but had butterflies in her stomach all the same as she pulled up the lane.

She turned off the engine when she reached the house, then sat in the parked truck for several minutes, mysteriously at a loss for how to move. Somehow the butterflies of a minute ago had transformed themselves into a large, leaden mass that took up residence in her gut. Only moments ago she couldn't wait to get here. What am I suddenly feeling so nervous about? she asked herself.

Oh, not much, she promptly answered. Here she was, the Muggliest twit ever, getting ready to parade into her wizard boyfriend's wizard brother's wizard-filled wizard wedding. A wizard brother who happened to be marrying a veela. Who had brought an entourage of veela relatives along with her. No worries at all there.

Annie had been staring dejectedly down into her lap while she nervously obsessed over her folly, resting her head on the steering wheel, which explained why she did not see anyone approaching. She almost jumped out of her skin when Fred flattened himself loudly against the windshield, making a grotesque face at her.

Glaring at him, she turned on the windshield wipers in revenge for the near coronary he had just caused her.

"Come on, then. Out you get." He yanked open the door and hauled her out of the truck unceremoniously. He gripped her firmly by the elbow and began marching her around the back of the house.

"Let go!" she hissed, stumbling a bit. "I'm not ready to...."

"I must admit, you do clean up pretty well. For a chicken-shit hag, that is," he chuckled back. "You two really are a pathetic pair," he mused cryptically as they crossed the short distance to the orchard.

"Where's George?" she asked, scanning the crowd as they approached the tent.

"Probably trapped in the clutches of a veela. That's what you're worried about, isn't it?" Fred taunted her. "Take it from me, that's not a bad place to spend an hour or so."

"What? No... I'm not worried..." she argued, trying to sound more indignant than anxious.

"You can lie better than that. I've seen you," he laughed.

"You are a...."

But Annie couldn't finish the insult. Fred had guided her to a seat in the empty second row and turned her wrist, forcing her to sit in order to avoid pain. He turned away from her and started to return to the back of the tent.

"Wait! Don't leave me here by myself!" she whispered frantically.

"Don't... make... a... scene!" he whispered loudly, enunciating each word emphatically, and causing several nearby heads to turn with inquisitive looks. He smirked wickedly as he retreated toward the back of the tent.

Annie sat in the seat, burning with embarrassment and anger directed at Fred. She had half a mind to get up and run out of the tent, had nearly convinced herself it was the right thing to do, when suddenly, several people rushed into the row and sat down, blocking her exit. To her astonishment, a perfect replica of Stephen now sat two seats away from her. She was so shocked by the sight that she didn't even notice George was sitting in front of her for a whole minute.

Everyone then stood as the bride walked down the aisle. Annie saw Fred nudge his twin brother and whisper something, who then surreptitiously turned his head in her direction, away from the bride. When he recognized her, he ignored the procession and wholly turned to face her, his eyes lit up and smiling.

She felt herself grinning hugely back at him. George was simply stunning in his smart dress clothes, dashing and handsome. She decided she liked this outfit almost as much as seeing him in his swim trunks.

Fred yanked George back into his seat once the bride reached the front. George looked back at her one last time before reluctantly turning his attention back to the ceremony.

She was not at such a disadvantage. It was easy for her to pretend to watch the wedding couple and simply take in the sight of George instead: his bright, soft hair, his cheek a bit pink from the heat inside the tent, his strong, handsome profile. She felt a twinge as she contemplated the perfect curve of his ear, recalling the fate of the other one hidden from view on the other side of his head. She had briefly glimpsed a bandage still there when his face had been turned toward her.

Suddenly, everyone was standing again. Annie had not heard the cue, lost in her reverie as she was, and was late to respond. She almost fell backwards as the chair disappeared from beneath her, and the tent arranged itself for the reception.

George came bounding over to her in the next moment. "When did you get here? I was looking all over..." he asked as he swept her up in an embrace.

She hoped he hadn't just seen her almost tumble onto her arse. "I was running a little late. Fred was his usual helpful self and found me this perfect seat," she said sarcastically.

"Bloody git! I told him to come get me if he saw you," George grumbled.

"And you're surprised he did the opposite? You're the bloody git!" she teased.

George led her over to a table not far from the dancing floor, then went to get refreshments. Annie surveyed the other wedding guests while he was gone, recognizing only a few members of his family out of the throng surrounding them. She'd had no idea there were so many magical people around!

She noticed that George's sister kept stealing looks at Stephen/Harry, her expression an odd mixture of longing, resentment, and pride. Once, when Harry-as-Stephen caught Ginny's eye, Annie was disturbed to see a sad, regretful, yearning look on his face as well. Such a complicated, tender emotion looked completely out of place on Stephen's features, in her opinion. It occurred to her then that Ginny might have stronger-than-friendly feelings for the hero-apparent of the resistance movement. Feelings that just might be reciprocated by said hero.

"You look very nice," George offered with a smile when he returned and sat down next to her, setting two champagne flutes on the table in front of them.

"Thank you," she replied, pleased by his simple compliment which seemed to be genuine. She took a small sip of champagne.

"What, that's it?" he asked her, sounding surprised.

"It goes without saying that you look heart-stoppingly handsome yourself," she added sincerely.

"No, I wasn't fishing," he chuckled. "I mean you didn't pinch, hit or insult me. I did just give you a compliment, you know."

"I'd be happy to indulge your masochistic streak now, if you like," she argued as she gently swatted the back of his head, carefully steering clear of his injury.

"That's better," he laughed. "Heart-stoppingly handsome, did you say?"

"You should probably shut up before you ruin it," she recommended.

"Yes, I probably should," he agreed as he smiled. He rose then, bowed deeply to her, and held out his hand.

She could see he was going to be infuriating tonight. Donning her most withering smirk, she put her hand in his and stood up. He then led her to the dance floor with an obnoxious flourish, spinning her around him three times before finally placing his hand at her waist. Other nearby guests began to stare at them curiously, but even so, Annie couldn't help laughing at his put-on pompous performance.

They danced for several songs, laughing and chatting as he explained who several of the more colorful guests were in relation to himself. George then led her over to Bill and Fleur, and they both shared friendly congratulations with the newlyweds. But as they danced away, George fell uncharacteristically quiet.

"What are you plotting? You're far too quiet for comfort," she joked, hoping to nudge him out of his suddenly pensive mood.

He slowed down their dancing, pulled her even closer. He leaned in to kiss her jaw just below her ear. "That should be us someday," he whispered.

Annie's heart did indeed stop. She closed her eyes as he continued to kiss along her jaw, moving slowly toward her lips. "George Weasley," she whispered with barely controlled breath. "Did you just mean to propose to me?"

"What if I did?" he smiled impishly as he gazed at her, but his eyes were smoldering.

"I'll hold you to it, I swear," she answered, staring straight into his warm brown eyes, feeling like perhaps there was an electrical short within her body, and her nervous system was no longer in control. How exactly does one breathe, again?

"Good. That's that, then," he replied and kissed her again.

They began to make their way off the dance floor toward the exit, planning to take advantage of the quiet, darkened garden. Annie's feet no longer registered contact with the earth, her senses wholly tuned to the presence beside her. She could barely spare enough concentration to restrain her racing pulse.

Before they reached the exit, however, the tent behind them became ominously silent, and George and Annie turned around to face the odd disturbance. A silvery blue figure had suddenly materialized on the floor and now began to speak.

"The Ministry has fallen..."* a deep, booming voice echoed from the large cat-like figure. Annie missed the next bit due to the shocked gasping of people around her, but the ghostly thing continued to deliver its message. "They are coming," it warned, and then it was gone as the mist dissipated.

Annie's ears were ringing in the moment of silence that followed. She looked at George's face for some clue as to what just happened. All she saw there was horrified shock.

Then all hell broke loose. Wedding guests began to scatter, screams of panic erupted all around. A dozen or so glasses fell to the floor, shattering.

She heard Arthur's voice, obviously directed to George. "Find Fred and get her out of here!" he yelled before he spun around and dashed into the crowd.

They turned together and bolted to the far exit. Annie heard what sounded like cases-worth of champagne corks popping as wizard guests were Disapparating en masse. As she ran, she searched the crowd for any sign of Fred. She saw instead five or six columns of billowing black smoke beginning to condense at spots scattered around the rapidly emptying dance floor. She noticed the few wizards that weren't madly dashing away had drawn their wands, aiming them toward the black smoke.

It took them only a few moments more to find Fred; he crashed into them as he was running back into the tent to discover the source of the chaos.

"What the bloody..." he yelled.

"Death Eaters!" George shouted. "Come on!"

In the seconds it took for the exchange, Annie yanked off her heeled shoes and chucked them into the hedge. The three of them turned as one and raced into the forest. Behind them, the tent erupted in flashes of light and crashing sounds.

"Search the area!" someone bellowed behind them. "No one escapes!"

Annie soon realized they were heading straight for her house. "Not to Gran!" she said as loud as she dared and began to veer away from the boys, away from her home. She wouldn't lead whoever could be chasing them to poor Gran.

The twins must have either heard her or noticed her change of direction, because they followed her immediately. They reached a large stream a minute later, which forced them to pause for a few moments to consider their next options.

But it was too late for strategy – they heard voices no more than twenty yards behind them. Each dashed to hide behind a nearby tree. Fred was maybe fifteen feet away from her, George a mere five. He was just close enough for Annie to hear him whispering.

Is he trying to tell me something? she wondered. She shook her head silently to let him know she couldn't hear him.

They could hear bodies crashing through the undergrowth as they approached, then a rough, cruel voice growled, "Homenum revelio!"

When he thought about it later, George wasn't sure if maybe his magic was spread too thin, attempting to cast so many protective spells at once. Or perhaps it was weaker because she had no magic within herself to sustain it against the force of the revealing spell. Regardless of the reason, George's shield charm surrounding Annie failed right before his eyes. To his horror, her shocked face momentarily lit up in a horrible green light.

"Over here!" shouted the hard voice. "Crucio!"

George launched himself at Annie in the same moment, tackling her to the ground. The force of the spell roared above them as it crashed into a tree trunk just a few feet away with a flash of red light. The tree shuddered, groaned, then snapped in two. Its branches ripped through the surrounding canopy as it crashed to the ground.

Annie was dazed by the impact. Another moment later, she became aware of a heavy weight pressing down on her. She opened her eyes, realizing immediately it was George above her. She felt her legs being forced together by his feet, her arms roughly grabbed and shoved underneath his chest. His left hand then clamped over her mouth and his right arm curled over the top of her head. She could feel the tip of his wand resting against her collarbone. All this activity took only seconds to accomplish.

"Don't move," he commanded her in the barest whisper.

She obeyed him, even though she didn't understand why. She heard George whisper more unfamiliar words, unintelligible to her even though she could hear them far more clearly this time. Perhaps a spell?

But why aren't we running, trying to get away? she wondered desperately. It didn't make any sense....

"STUPEFY!" Fred roared, and a red light flashed. Then she heard a pop as he Disapparated. A large, wooden crack followed an instant later as a distant tree absorbed the energy of the spell.

She wanted to urge George to do the same: to Disapparate and save himself. But she couldn't open her mouth, couldn't move any part of her self. He had thoroughly immobilized her body with his own. A stabbing pain from something caught underneath her shoulder began to make itself felt.

"There must be more! Fan out!" commanded the cruel voice.

It was sickeningly close now, and she suddenly understood why they weren't running: it was no use. Their attackers were too close. She and George were sitting ducks.

Annie watched mutely as a light began to cast its glow on the tree leaves above them. A bright beam first shone on the shattered tree truck next to them, then shined directly into her eyes, blinding her to everything else, making a halo around George's head above her.

Abject terror flooded her body. George was absolutely motionless: he had even halted the continuous whispering in her ear. She couldn't breathe.

We're going to die, she thought.

She would never know what it was George had tried to tell her in his whispers during these final moments of their lives. In the seconds she had left to her, she silently asked Molly's forgiveness for the death of her son. At least they would face it together.

I love you! she shouted silently over and over in her head, hoping somehow he could hear her.

"Stupefy!" Fred shouted again, further away now. Then she heard a crash, followed by a furious scream. The lit wand spun away from them, toward the crash, plunging them into darkness again.

Fred!? she wondered.

"Stupefy!" Fred's voice rang out once more, but from yet another direction.

It occurred to her that he was trying to draw the pursuit away from his brother, toward himself. Oh, Fred! she cried silently. Be careful!

The lit wand flashed over them for one more instant. "Could've sworn..." mumbled the cruel voice. Then both the light and the voice disappeared.

Annie's mind tumbled about. What had just happened? How had they not been seen? How were they still alive?

She heard Fred's voice shout again, now joined by at least two others, farther away from them still. She recognized the shouts of other wizards now joining him in the battle. She heard the cruel voice howl in pain and frustration, then everything was silent.

George waited a few more moments, then released her. "Can you still run?" he whispered urgently.

She nodded. "I think so."

George and Annie scrambled upright, and she pulled several deep breaths once more into her lungs. Miraculously, her legs still worked. Adrenaline was coursing through her veins, helping her to keep up alongside George as they followed the stream further away from the road. After hearing no sound of pursuit for ten minutes at least, they decided it was safe now to cross it and head back toward Annie's house.

They waded the stream, which came up to Annie's waist at its deepest point. The wet silk of her skirt clung to her legs annoyingly as they made their way back to her house. She had begun to mentally relax slightly while they ran unpursued, but now, as she saw the dark house looming before her, she became anxious again and picked up the pace. She had to make sure Gran was all right....

George took her hand to slow her down as she drew nearer to the house. They walked cautiously together as they approached the garden fence. He halted, protectively pulling her closer, slightly behind his body. George's wand was drawn.

Does he see something? She stared hard into the darkness, searching for some sign of a threat.

There was a quiet bird's call directly in front of them. In the same instant, she recognized Fred's childhood identification signal, and darkness seemed to melt away from him as he emerged into sight. She realized she had been gripping George's free arm rather tightly, probably hurting him, and loosened her grasp.

"The house is clear," Fred said with a jerk of his head toward Annie's home. "They're searching our place right now. You stay here and wait for me to send word," he commanded.

George nodded silently.

"Is everyone else all right?" Annie asked.

"We think so."

"Harry?" asked George.

"Dad said he saw them Disapparate; that's all we know right now."

"Thank you, Fred, for everything..." Annie whispered into his ear as she gave him a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek.

"Lucky we were there to save your scrawny Muggle hide," he teased, patting her condescendingly on the head. "I'm off, then." The brothers thumped each other on the back, and Fred disappeared.

George put his arm around Annie and lead her up the steps into the house. They silently crept through the kitchen and into Annie's room. George kept his wand in hand the whole time.

"You should get out of these wet clothes," he said, and they both half-smiled, remembering the phrase from another moment months ago in this room. "Sorry about your dress."

Annie put her hand on his lips to hush him. "We're alive. You saved my life. Who cares about this stupid dress?"

"I am the heroic type," he joked, leaning his forehead against hers while he unzipped the back of her dress. He gently turned her around to help her out of it further.

"What the hell?" he quietly exclaimed. His fingers gingerly touched the sore spot on her back just below the shoulder.

"A rock, I expect. When we fell," she explained, resisting the urge to flinch as he probed the injury with his fingers. She looked at him over her shoulder.

"Shit – my fault.... Sorry about that!" he said with a pained grimace.

"Yes, do remember to be gentler the next time you save someone from deadly attack by evil wizards," she teased, rolling her eyes. She stepped out of her dress and turned to tiptoe out of the room. "I'll be quick."

In front of the bathroom mirror, she turned to examine her back for herself. There was a gash under her shoulder blade, made to look worse by the dark bruise forming beneath it and a trickle of dried blood. It hurt but not as badly as it looked.

After a fast shower, she donned a robe and headed quietly back to her room. George had already changed into a set of his clothes he kept there, just in case they ever needed them to keep up appearances. They had never required them before now; usually he just Apparated directly in and out of her room whenever necessary.

She still felt guilty for sneaking around behind Gran's back so much, but what other option was there? She was nineteen years old, living at home instead of a flat of her own for one reason only: to take care of Gran. She couldn't leave Gran, and she wouldn't do without George. And it was ridiculous to expect Gran to knowingly permit any modern nonsense like sleepovers.

George was pointedly looking out her window into the darkness as she dressed.

"Anything wrong?" she asked nervously.

He shook his head. "Just checking," he reassured her. He turned back to her as she finished pulling on a pair of jeans. They sat together on the bed, leaning against the headboard with their arms around each other, waiting for word from George's family.

"What happened, exactly, back there?" she asked him quietly.

"A bit of retaliation, I expect, for last week," he explained.

Annie tensed, remembering George's near-deadly injury that resulted from Harry's rescue. The bandage had fallen off during the melee, and the scabby wound on the side of his head was now oozing a bit.

"You-Know-Who wants Harry dead. Must've figured there was a good chance he'd be there at the wedding. Apparently, he's in charge now," he muttered with disgust at the news they'd received just before the fracas erupted.

"Your family is in danger now because you're helping Harry?" It was more of a statement than a question.

"Among other things. The list is far from brief, actually. The Weasleys have been blood traitors and troublemakers for generations," he said in an attempt to lighten the conversation. But his stern, determined face belied any humor.

Blood traitor. She had heard that term before and knew what it meant. Fred and George had often used it jokingly amongst themselves. George's family was "pure" wizard, and she, a Muggle, was the furthest thing from it. None of this was news to her.

"So, by being with me, you put yourself in even more danger," she whispered, staring down at her lap. They had had this discussion more than once before, but obviously things had changed since then – as of tonight, in fact. There would be no more being brought in for questioning, no further pretense if they were caught together. It would be official public policy now: their relationship would be forbidden and openly punishable.

George pulled her face up to his and looked her squarely. "Don't..." he warned her. "We've been through this before. Nothing's going to happen to me, and I won't let anything hurt you," he said confidently. He kissed her, then continued in a lighter, teasing voice. "Too late for second thoughts now, anyway. We're engaged, remember?"

The memory of the wonderful moment on the dance floor caused another enormous grin to break across her face despite the grim situation. The gloomy mood had broken, and they began to kiss with some enthusiasm now.

"All the same, we should probably lay low for a while.... No more nights out on the town... no carousing.... Better to just stay in," she murmured, each phrase punctuated by a kiss.

"Now you're just being prudent," he said in mock disgust, then chuckled.

*Partial quote from "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows" by J. K. Rowling