Super important note at the end of this chapter!

Forty-Three.

"Oi. Your mum's a troll."

They watched intently, half-expecting the Deatheater to move. Nothing happened. A bird chirped sweetly in the background.

The weather was fine for a wedding—the sun was out, which was rare, and only a small breeze posed a threat to the upcoming events. Large white tents had been set up in the backyard, and they had been forced to wake up early to help decorate the tables and set up the tents. Seeing as these were magical tents, there was ample room inside them, and therefore, a lot of ground to cover. This had taken all morning and most of the afternoon, seeing as they had been rather unmotivated about arranging centerpieces in just the right way. After seeing they were nearly done, Mrs. Weasley had shooed them all back inside to get dressed.

The three Weasleys outside in the garden were the first to finish getting dressed.

Fred inched closer, as much as the barriers of the wards allowed. He was almost face to face with the intruder, who stood still as stone, their robe fluttering in the breeze.

"He looks like a petrified Dementor, just standing there," George added, stepping in beside his twin. He fought back a shiver.

"More like the dishrag we've got in the sink," Fred said, chuckling.

The Deatheater, deaf to their taunts, did nothing.

Fred fidgeted with his bow-tie.

"Do you ever see them leave?" he asked his brothers.

"No."

The Deatheater looked sharply to the right suddenly, and they all jumped, stepping back in alarm. Fred raised his wand to point it directly at the Deatheater's face. There was a rustle, and they saw a large rabbit sprint from one bush to another one a short distance away. The Deatheater stared after it for a second or two, relaxed, and then went still once more.

They relaxed slowly, saying nothing for a moment. The Deatheater reached up to scratch at their arm.

Fred lowered his wand.

"D'you reckon they know this is where the wards end?" he asked, turning to look at his brothers. "It can't just be a coincidence that they're right on the edge."

This had not occurred to the others yet. Their expressions of uneasiness were enough answer for Fred. He turned back to look grimly at the Deatheater.

"How do they not get bored? Do they ever eat?" George asked after a short lull. "Hell, do they even piss?"

"If we stay long enough, they might," Ron said. "I don't want to see that, though."

"I reckon that's why mum had us put up the tents," George said, looking back at the tall, connected tents in which the wedding party was to be held later that evening. "Imagine, Bill and Fleur having their first dance, everyone's doing a toast, and then you look over and this fellow's taking a shit over in that bush."

Fred and Ron laughed.

"I don't suppose we could throw something at him," Ron suggested.

"Absolutely not," Tonks said as she peered around the exit flap of the tent, looking at them rather sternly. "If your mum sees the three of you that close to the wards, she'll have heart failure. Get away from there and help with the flowers."

Fred sighed. "Where are the others?"

"They're coming down. I just finished with Draco. I should say Adam, rather."

"Is that his fake name?" Ron asked, frowning.

Tonks nodded.

"Pansy's is Lauren, and Harry's is Rodger. You'd all better do your best to remember them. We can't risk anything today with so many people around."

"What was Hermione's, again?" George asked.

"Oh, I forgot." Tonks set down the last vase onto its corresponding table. "Hers is Ophelia."

"Easy enough," George said, pulling a daisy from the small vase he'd just set down onto a table. "Rodger, Adam, Ophelia, and Lauren."

"I wonder if we'll catch Adam and Ophelia at it, again," Fred said, snickering. George elbowed him, glancing over at Ron through the corner of his eye.

Ron scowled, suspicious. "What are you talking about? What were they doing?"

"Nothing at all," Fred said quickly. George squinted at a tree behind Ron, as if he'd found something fascinating there. "Ahem. I don't think this bow-tie compliments my eyes, George. Help me find another one."

"Why don't we just switch?" George asked, looking down at his own.

Fred tugged him towards the house. "I don't like that color."

Hermione appeared at the door just after they went back into the house. Her hair was blonde, now, and ended just past her shoulders rather than mid-back as it normally did. Her eyes had been changed from deep brown to hazel, and now had a prominent birthmark in the middle of her bottom lip. She wore a pretty, flattering red dress that drew Ron's eyes towards her figure but made himself look away hastily.

She was tucking her hair behind her ear as she stepped out into the garden. She saw him, standing beside Tonks, and smiled as she came to them. The sun would set soon, and the guests were due to begin arriving at any moment for the ceremony. There was a tinge of energy in the air, despite the heavy presence of the Deatheaters, and he felt buoyant—and on edge.

"I'm rather good at this, aren't I?" Tonks said, grinning as she looked at Hermione. She reached forward and hugged Hermione, touched a strip of her hair that was hanging by her temple. "I almost forgot who you were."

"It always feels strange," Hermione conceded. "I know I look different, but I don't feel different. I still feel like someone's going to see us all through our disguises and alert the Ministry."

"Stay calm, and no one will be the wiser," Tonks said. "It's okay to feel nervous. Just stick to your fake identity and we'll get through the whole thing without any trouble."

"Where's Harry?" Ron asked.

"With Ginny." Hermione replied. "Draco and Pansy are on their way."

"Don't forget the fake names! I'm going back inside," Tonks said, putting her hand on their shoulders. "Think you'll be alright for a few minutes?"

"Well, yeah," Ron said, almost rolling his eyes.

"I know it's a dumb question," Tonks said, grimacing. "But I had to ask, with that peeping tom over there. Plus, your mum might be watching."

She went back inside.

"You look great," Ron said, and she smiled. It was strange and fascinating to see that even through Tonk's handiwork, she'd retained her smile.

"Thank you," she said. Her hand pressed on her stomach. "I'm really nervous about this."

"It'll be fine," he said. "The whole Order will be here, so we'll be prepared if anything goes wrong."

She didn't look comforted at all. "I've got everything prepared, just in case."

"Good." He looked around at the mass of white-blanketed tables, with their cluster of pale blue roses in their centers, the candles at their side that would soon be lit.

"It's weird to see Bill get married," he said. "He hasn't lived with us for a long time but it's just weird. I don't know how to explain it."

She nodded.

"I never thought I'd see Malfoy at a family wedding, either," he muttered.

Hermione smiled and rubbed his arm. "Would you rather have him here as a guest or as an enemy?"

Ron grimaced. "If that git tries to ruin my brother's wedding, I'll knock him outside the wards so his friends out there can deal with him."

At Hermione's disapproving look, he sighed. "It was a joke."

Her frown didn't waver.

"Alright, I'm sorry."

"There you are," Ginny called as she stepped out into the garden, struggling not to trip over her long blue bridesmaid dress. "I already tripped three times coming down the stairs. I'm about to tear this bloody thing off and wear trousers. Who cares about being a bridesmaid?" She swatted a loose strand of hair from her face.

"Fleur does," Ron said plainly. "And she'll go mental if she sees you changed out of the dress she picked for you."

"Yes, well I already reached that point after I landed on my arse at the bottom of the stairs."

"Yeah, well, you'll have to put up with it for a few more hours," Ron said. He himself wore a secondhand set of dark blue robes with a white rose in the lapel. Hermione looked at it, remembered the ancient frilly robes he'd had to wear in Fourth year, and suppressed a laugh.

Ginny put her hands on her hips.

"It's a nice dress, really," she said, sighing. "I'm just in a lousy mood. I don't want to have to deal with a wedding right now." She caught Hermione's eye, and in that brief shared look, Hermione understood that Harry had broken up with her.

Right before the wedding? Her heart constricted with sympathy.

Ginny gave the slightest shrug of her shoulder, but her eyes conveyed a message.

'We'll talk about it later.'

Hermione nodded.

Once the guests began to arrive, Ron was assigned the task of taking everyone's coats and storing them in his and Harry's room. Harry was to lay low and not draw too much attention to himself. Draco had finally joined them in the garden, and was to act as inconspicuous as possible as well. Pansy, who now had straight, longer hair and thicker brows, took it upon herself to help Mrs. Weasley guide everyone to their tables, for which Mrs. Weasley was extremely grateful.

Hermione slipped back inside, smiling politely at anyone who passed, her heart racing, expecting to be found out with every pair of eyes that looked at her.

Stay calm, she could hear Tonks say. There's nothing to be afraid of.

I wish it was that easy.

She looked around stealthily for any familiar face—most of the Order had already converged in the tent. Moody was standing by the post of the largest tent, leaning on his staff, his magical eye whirring and spinning madly in all directions. Tonks had disguised herself to blend in among the crowd. She'd already frightened Ginny once by accident when she'd come up from behind her to tell her Molly was looking for her. Lupin was seated already, calm as ever, but his eyes shifted around the area now and then, feigning interest, but she knew he was also waiting for something to happen.

And what would that be?

She couldn't say.

She vaguely recognized Ron's Aunt Muriel as she tottered past her, a sour look on her face although she was talking rather animatedly to the unfortunate guest who was walking beside her.

"Should have been a larger wedding, if you ask me," she was saying. "You only get married once, after all. Who's going to remember a party like this?"

"Hush, Muriel," someone said. "A bigger wedding would draw too much attention."

"That's the point!" Muriel cackled. "Weddings used to be so much grander. Now look where we've come."

"I think a small wedding is a lovely idea," someone said. "Much cozier."

Hermione passed them by, faking a smile, wanting nothing more than to escort Aunt Muriel right back to the front door.

She found Bill on the second floor, about to head down. He was dressed in a brand new set of fine black robes, his hair trimmed and handsomely styled. There was a pale blue rose pinned to his lapel.

They smiled at each other.

"Are you ready?"

"Of course," he said, and his smile was so genuine it was contagious. Hers grew bigger, too.

"Thought I heard Aunt Muriel arrive," he said.

"She's already latched herself onto some stranger," she replied.

"Count yourself lucky it wasn't you."

Hermione laughed.

"Congratulations," she said after a pause, not quite knowing what else to say.

He laughed good-naturedly.

"The ceremony hasn't even started, but thanks." He started down the steps. "I'll see you down there."

"Sure."

There was the sound of someone else on the stairs, and she turned to see Draco coming up, giving Bill a congratulatory shake of the hand just before he completely descended.

"Weasley told me you were here," he said.

Tonks had changed his hair to a more common shade of blond, so it was darker than she was used to, and straighter, at that. His eyes were a deeper blue, and his nose broader and with a bend to it that suggested it'd been broken before. His skin, still fair, had a reddish tinge to it, as though he spent lots of time outdoors, and when he came to a stop in front of her, she could detect a number of freckles spanning across his face.

"I look ridiculous," he said flatly.

She tried to smother her laugh. "I was going to say I think you look very handsome."

He looked doubtful but came closer with a gleam in his eye. "Would you rather I stayed this way?"

She tapped her finger on her chin. "I'll have to think on it. Ask me again later."

He gave her a challenging smile. Despite the fact that he wore a stranger's face, she could perfectly picture his true face behind it, bearing that expression, and her heart fluttered.

Draco raised one hand and gently held the side of her head with it, leaning in closer and closer until their breaths mingled. Hermione held hers and stared at him.

Who could have ever guessed that they'd look at each other without dislike, or even hate?

His smile had gone. There was that vulnerability in his eyes. He didn't even try to hide it, and she was touched every time she saw it with the realization and gratitude that he trusted her with it. There was so much that he wasn't saying; if she looked long and hard enough she fancied she could see it all unfurl.

She grabbed him by the sides of his face, not daring to blink for fear of missing any of it.

"You're nervous," she said. She brushed her thumbs over his skin.

"You are, too."

He kissed her. She blinked.

"I don't know what to do," she said. "I know this wedding's important, but I'm not sure I want to sit through a party all night."

Draco kissed her again, and she couldn't shake the feeling, how strange it was to be kissing him through someone else's lips.

"We go anyway," he said softly. "We sit through it and then go to bed. It's a happy occasion. Who knows how many of those we'll have in the near future. We should go enjoy it."

He was right. But Hermione still faced the thought of going back outside with reluctance.

Draco's nose trailed along her neck.

"You still smell the same," he said, and breathed in.

Hermione let her head fall back and he kissed her throat, his tongue darting out to leave a hot trail on her skin.

"I want you now," he said, and her breath caught.

"I didn't know we were there yet," she said, need and nerves dancing together in her belly. "We haven't talked about this."

"We won't do anything you don't want to," he said. "I'll wait."

He pressed another open-mouth kiss to her throat, sucking lightly on her skin. Hermione closed her eyes and tried to steady her breathing. Draco's other hand grabbed her around the waist and pressed her closer.

"I wish I could see you," he muttered into her skin. His hand roamed over her back, the curve of her bum.

More people were coming in. The slamming of the front door broke them apart. Draco sighed.

Hermione put her hands on his shoulders. He looked at her, his eyes gentle, and played with the ends of her hair. His fingers grazed against where his lips had just been, and she shivered.

"Let's go," she said, and smiled.

Draco ran a hand through his hair, mentally composing himself. Hermione could guess at why he was stalling. The bulge at the front of his pants was telling enough. He saw her looking at it, and then caught her eye.

"I'll need a moment," he said.

Hermione shrugged. "Take as long as you need, as long as we don't miss the ceremony."

"I won't take that long," he replied indignantly, but he was smiling. "I really wish I could see you. I know you look beautiful in that dress."

Hermione blushed.

"I want to see you, too."

A moment later, he was ready, and escorted her down the stairs and out into the garden. By now many of the guests were seated, but more remained standing and mingling, flutes of champagne in hand. Hemione watched as a few people turned to look at them, and her nerves reappeared. Music was playing, a soft, charming violin. The sun was beginning to set.

She looked back at a few of the guests, almost expecting them to call out the identity of the wizard beside her.

No one said anything. Their eyes passed over them both and then looked away to something or someone else. Draco squeezed her hand. He had caught sight of Weasley staring at them from across the tent, and he could tell he wasn't pleased although his face was neutral.

The lights in the tent dimmed briefly. He spied Mrs. Weasley and Delacour's mother standing at the front of the tent, with Mme. Delacour holding her wand aloft by the tall candlesticks near the altar. At once, the conversation in the tent ceased.

"Let's find our seats," he said, and he and Hermione hurried to where Pansy and Ginny stood.

The ceremony had been mercifully short. Many people had become emotional, and even Mr. Weasley had repeatedly been dabbing at his eyes with his handkerchief all throughout.

Fleur and Bill were now in the midst of a throng of people giving them congratulations. Mrs. Weasley was weeping happily, speaking through her tears to her husband, eyes shining as she looked after her newly-married son. Something in it struck Draco's heart. He had to turn away before something in his heart gave way.

Hermione was hugging Ginny. Potter and Weasley stood together, speaking to the twins. Pansy approached him and hugged him.

"I love weddings," she sighed happily.

"They're nice enough," he replied. She pulled away and wiped at her eyes.

"You're crying?"

"Oh hush, you," she said, swatting his shoulder. "I don't know that I'll ever get married, but I take notes at every wedding I go to in case I do."

"Who wouldn't want to marry you?" he asked, frowning.

Pansy brushed a bit of lint off her green dress. "Who, indeed! At the risk of sounding like a pompous airhead, I think I'm quite the catch. At the very least, I'll be prepared if the chance ever arises."

"The second I hear of an engagement, I'll be expecting an invitation, then."

"Be sure of it, you'll be the first one to get one."

"Oh, we're all hugging?" came Fred's (or George?) from behind them. "Come here, Ronnie. It's a special occasion, after all."

He wrapped Ron up in a smothering hug. George came up as well and followed suit. Harry stood by and watched, grinning.

"No—geroff me, idiots—"

Pansy laughed.

Charlie came up. He had arrived late, and at his mother's insistence he'd taken his earring out and had changed into some of Percy's old dress robes, but they looked tight across his chest, as he was rather fit. He grinned crookedly and crossed his arms. "Well, this is rare."

"It really is," Ginny said, nodding at Pansy's skeptical expression. "Usually if you see them like this they're throwing punches."

Bill, who was walking by, did a double take and came closer.

"What's this?" he asked, looking slightly concerned as he looked to the mass of tall gingers into which Ron had been engulfed.

"Brotherly love," Charlie said, grinning.

"Get in here, you, and accept our love and congratulations," Fred said, grinning wickedly. They could hear Ron's muffled swearing as he tried to push them away.

Bill, looking both resigned and chuffed, walked into the mess with his arms held out. George pulled him in, clapping a hand over his back. When he pulled it away, Harry saw a paper advert for their shop had been magically fixed to the back of Bill's robe. George winked at him.

"Alright!" came Ron's muffled voice. "Geroff!"

He managed to yank himself out of his brothers' hold, and emerged, red-faced and mussed hair, glaring at the twins.

George looked at Fred. "That was nice. I feel very loved, don't you?"

"Very wholesome," Fred nodded.

"Piss off, you two," Ron muttered, still glowering. He flattened his hair with his hand.

"Gladly," George replied. "Look, the food's coming. Best get to your table before it's gone cold."

"Luna and her dad are here," Ginny whispered into Hermione's ear after the dinner. Hermione jumped, almost choking on her mouthful of wine. She winced as she swallowed. Draco rubbed her back.

"Where?"

"Over there. They're talking to Bill and Fleur."

Hermione found them instantly. Luna had her long blonde hair down and wore a bright yellow dress that made her hair look almost silver. Her father wore light grey robes with hand-painted designs on them. Hermione could only guess that Luna had done them herself but was too far away to determine what precisely the designs were. Harry had managed to be in their presence and had caught Xenopilius's attention, who was now talking to him rather animatedly.

"Have you talked to her?" Hermione asked. She had never been particularly close to Luna, but seeing her j0win a crowd of mostly unfamiliar people made something in her heart ache.

"Yeah. Couldn't say much before mum came in and asked for help with something. I reckon she thinks somehow we'll let slip that you lot are here."

Hermione stared at Luna and her father, talking amiably to someone she didn't recognize, wondering what their lives had been like since the last time she'd seen them.

Had her father become as overly protective as Mrs. Weasley had of them all? Was she being denied access to news of the outside world like they were?

I doubt it. Her father runs his own paper, after all.

Luna always spoke fondly of her father. Seeing them now, Hermione had no doubt they were close. She doubted he would keep anything from her.

She felt a pang of jealousy, and meant to turn away, but her eyes lingered. Luna was sipping wine, looking peacefully around the party. Xenophilius looked serious as he talked to Harry, who seemed to be clinging to every word he said. Xenophilius pointed to the designs on his robe, and Hermione caught a flash of motion, and looking to the left, found herself locking eyes with Luna from across the tent. Startled, she looked away.

Draco put down his glass of wine and looked around as he came to a stop next to Potter. He was about to move on when he noticed Potter's trouble gaze and followed it. He saw Mr. and Mrs. Weasley sitting huddled together at their table. Mr. Weasley had his arms around his wife, looking troubled and at the note she was holding. Mrs. Weasley was crying again, but this time it was not out of joy, that much he could tell.

"What's wrong?" he asked at once, dreading that something had gone terribly wrong.

Potter hesitated to answer. "They invited Percy to the wedding. He had his secretary send a note."

Draco remembered the third eldest Weasley well. The self-righteous Head Boy had had a penchant for giving him detentions, and he'd always had such a stick up his arse Draco had often wondered how he could walk comfortably.

"He could have just been busy," he offered lamely.

"We all know he wasn't," Potter said. "He's just embarrassed of them."

Once, Draco wouldn't have blamed him.

But now…

Still, the news surprised him a little. The Weasleys seemed like a closely-knit family. He supposed Percy had always been proud, but he'd never imagined him to be the one to turn away from his kin.

"Never liked him, much," he said, and after a moment's pause, Potter nodded his agreement.

Pansy was dancing with a stranger. Ginny had gone to console her mother. Ron was with Fred and George, talking about some new products they hoped to begin developing soon. He had lost sight of Hermione a while ago after the dinner, when she had gone to the loo afterwards. He and Potter remained standing side by side, not saying much. Potter was without his spectacles, and his hair was still black but curly now, and shorter and tidier than normal. His scar was gone, obviously, and his eyes had been changed to brown. Draco kept finding his eyes lingering on Potter's forehead, as if waiting for the scar to appear again suddenly. It was too strange, all of them being in disguise like this. Necessary, sure, but strange.

The music shifted, and more couples joined in the mass already dancing. It was a traditional dance Draco was familiar with. He had heard it many times over the years when played at the manor or other balls he and his family had attended. He had seen his parents dance it often when he was younger, and when he had grown older and their love had cooled they had never danced it again, which he hadn't realized until now. He pushed the memory away and spotted Hermione a short distance away, speaking to a guest at the edge of the tent.

He went to her, dodging bodies in the crowd, nodding in response to attempts from a stranger now and then to start a conversation as he passed, but not replying. As he neared to where she stood, her voice grew louder. She had not noticed his approach until he stood before her and turned to him, expecting a stranger; when she recognized him through his disguise, she smiled.

It stirred his heart. It was the same soft, welcoming smile he had mistakenly received so long ago, when he had cornered her in the library, triumph entwining with his rage.

The guest nodded at him, his eyes cool. Draco had eyes only for Hermione. He held out his hand, and it wasn't until then that it occurred to him she might refuse to stand with him.

Her smile had turned quizzical; her eyes flit from his outstretched hand to his eyes, once, twice.

"Ophelia," he said, barely catching himself in time to keep from calling her by her true name. "Would you honor me with a dance?"

She bit her lip. He could feel Potter watching them closely from where he stood not too far away.

"I'm not familiar with these sorts of dances," she admitted, but lay her hand in his. "I mean, I've danced before, but not like this."

Draco smiled. "They're fairly simple. I'm sure you'll learn quickly. I'll help you."

There was that rare shy, trusting look in her eyes again. It warmed his heart. He led her into the midst of the dance floor. She stood before him, nervous, lovely in her red gown.

"What now?" she asked, as the others moved around them.

The music was merry and upbeat, charming to the ear. Above it, there was the prattling on of conversation all around them. She could clearly hear Aunt Muriel screeching in someone's ear.

Draco bent his left arm at the elbow and placed it behind his back. He held his other bent arm before her with his palm open.

She understood and touched it with hers. Draco stepped close. Her skirts brushed against his front.

She gave a quiet laugh. Draco gave her a questioning look.

"I've spent so much time studying Transfiguration and History, Potions and Charms, I don't think I ever thought to learn more about Wizard culture," she replied. "That should have been the first thing I studied."

Draco laughed. "This must all be strange to you, then."

"It's rather similar, in some respects," she admitted, tucking her hair behind her ear. "But yes, it's still strange. Especially considering this is part of my life."

He bowed to her. She bit back a giggle and curtseyed in turn, looking around at the other couples as they did the same to their respective partners.

"This seems rather archaic," she remarked, as he held out his hand once more.

He began to move, and knowing little but enough about dance, she followed in reverse. They moved in a circle, hands still connected, gazes locked.

"Wizard culture doesn't seem to advance much," he agreed. "We're steeped in tradition. We're rather set in our ways, but I suppose that's how our culture gets some of its charm."

He brought out his arm from behind his back and wrapped it around her waist, bringing her closer. She still appeared nervous, holding onto the hem of her long skirt with one hand, the other still touching his. Draco met her eye, his grip tightening slightly around her body.

"You're doing great," he said.

"I've never danced like this," she said, blushing. "I'm afraid this is one thing I've never really been good at."

Draco, taking hold of her hand, led her in a twirl. He caught her again.

"I'd still rather dance with you than anyone else."

She smiled, embarrassed, but radiant. They touched palms again and stepped in closer to each other, stepped back. Hermione, following cue from the other dancers, swayed gently from side to side, and Draco, his palm still just barely touching hers, stood tall, smiling at her as they moved in a circle, and the longer they danced the more she felt an almost forgotten sort of giddiness take over her. She stumbled now and then. He twirled her, lifted her, to her surprise, and set her back down with an easy smile. Her hands were on his chest. She could hear herself laughing. Her smile grew wider, and she couldn't take her eyes from Draco's. The dancers around them turned faceless-she could only hear the music and the pounding of her heart, feel the gentle pressure of Draco's hands against her. The music had grown louder, a little slower; almost hypnotizing. It was intoxicating.

Draco's eyes were like glue—she always got trapped looking into them. He dipped her carefully, and she let her arm fall back above her head, reaching for some invisible thing. The other couples were so much more practiced and graceful, but Draco wouldn't look away from her, and she was finding a new sort of confidence in his arms.

"Do you ever miss it? Muggle life?" He had been afraid of sounding insensitive but was relieved to see she did not take it as such.

"Sometimes," she said. Draco's arm around her body felt warm and reassuring. They were dancing at a slower pace than the rest of the couples, who moved with fervor, turning in circles, swaying in and out, touching hands, and some even performing bigger lifts, to the applause of onlookers. "I feel like I don't spend enough time there to truly miss it. But I do miss my parents."

Draco dipped her gently, his eyes raking along her throat to her chest briefly before looking away. The scent of her perfume was both heady and calming. She had noticed the heat in his eyes and gave him a cheeky look. It only made his heat intensify, but before he could lean in for a kiss she stepped away and let him twirl her again. When she came back into his arms, the moment had passed, but neither of them minded.

"Do you feel more at home here?" he asked.

She looked uncertain, and that was all the answer he needed.

"I don't know where I fit in," she said quietly as they swayed together. "Harry's the same, too. It isn't easy to go from one place to another but never really be allowed to fully integrate yourself."

"Your parents support this, don't they?"

"They always have," she said, nodding. "They do have reservations, though. They trust me, but since they're not allowed to see much of wizarding culture they want to make sure I'm safe. I tell them about Harry and Ron, but never about what happens to us. If they knew some of the things we've been through, I'm afraid they'd never let me come back. And as frightening as it can be, sometimes, I don't think I can ever live without being part of this world."

He nodded slowly.

They realized with a start that the song had ended, and another was starting up. They looked around, slightly embarrassed, neither having realized that they had been so wrapped up in each other that they had blocked everything else out. No one seemed to have noticed, however.

People were dancing again, and the tent had grown much warmer. There was the clinking of glass and merry laughter, the strings and beating of the music, the warmth of Hermione beside him. He spied Weasley dancing with his mother, and his brother dancing with his new wife, holding each other close, Fleur's head on his shoulder, absorbed in their own bliss.

He offered Hermione his hand and she took it. He led her away from the tent. She was fanning herself, and the chill of the night air as they walked out into the garden was immensely satisfying. They walked a short distance away, and into the garden.

"I don't think I ever realized how difficult it is for you and Potter, to be part of two worlds," he said.

"It took some getting used to," she replied, shrugging. "But we're used to it, now." She looked in the direction of the Deatheater. There was now a third one, standing a little distance away. She shivered and turned away from it.

"Have you ever been to the Muggle world?" she asked, looking around to see if there was another Deatheater that had popped up over the past few hours.

Draco watched her, her skin like marble in the moonlight.

"Once or twice, as a child. I don't remember it much."

"It's very much the same," she said, turning to him, moving her hair from her face. "The stark difference being not having magic, of course. I think you'd find it interesting."

"Are you offering to show me?" he asked, raising a brow. Strange, how when in her company, he felt more like himself than he'd felt in a long, long time. It was a surprising revelation.

Her smile was slight and half-hidden in shadow.

"I think I am."

"When the opportunity comes, I'd love nothing more."

There was the loud pop of another champagne bottle being opened in the tent, and a small cheer. The music grew louder.

Hermione sat down on the ground, tucking her skirt underneath her. Without hesitating, Draco sat down beside her. They had been standing by a row of tall hedges and were now completely concealed by it. Hermione let out a long breath, watching it turn into mist.

She had begun to shake. He stood briefly to take off his robe and draped it over her. She took it gratefully, wrapping it around herself tightly, shivering.

"Do you want to go back in?"

"No," she said. She leaned against him, her head on his shoulder. "I really enjoyed dancing with you."

"Thank you for saying yes," he replied. "I enjoyed it, too."

The night sky was cloudless. Stars twinkled. A cold fog rolled over the ground.

"I just wanted to sit in silence for a bit," she said, looking at him almost apologetically. "There's too much going on in there, and the tent felt like it was getting smaller and smaller."

"I understand," he said, pressing a kiss to her temple.

"You don't have to stay here with me," she replied.

"I want to," he said. "Unless you'd rather be alone."

Hermione nestled her head more firmly onto him and sighed.

"No," she said. "I want you to stay."

He nodded and tried to sit still. They sat in a comfortable silence for a long time, neither feeling pressured to speak. Hermione tried to fight her exhaustion from the long day but ended up dozing lightly on his arm. Draco stroked her arm softly, watching the sky, listening to the merry sounds and music of the ongoing party.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed but it wasn't too long until she awoke, turning to watch her shift. She rubbed at her eye, yawned.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to fall asleep." She gave a soft laugh. The was the rustling of the night breeze around them.

"I don't mind," he said. "Really."

Her dark eyes looked him over. She saw that he was missing his robe, and then remembered she was wearing it.

"Aren't you cold?" she asked.

"Not terribly. You're helping me keep warm."

As she had slept, her body had grown warmer, and it had kept him from shivering as she had leaned against him more and more.

"Did you want to go inside?"

"No," he said. "I'd rather be here."

She ran a hand through her hair to push it from her face, forgetting that her appearance was different, and her hair had a shorter length now. She dropped her hand abruptly.

"I feel so comfortable with you," she said, so quietly he had to strain to listen.

"I do, too," he said. They said nothing more for a while. "I feel very strongly for you," he said, and pressed another kiss to her temple. "More than I've felt for anyone."

Another kiss. Hermione was growing warm. Another. She tilted her head up to meet his mouth.

"I feel like I might be in some sort of danger if I continue to let myself care for you," he admitted after they broke apart. "Of feeling something deeper. I think I already do."

There were crickets chirping loudly nearby. Neither of them heard it.

"I told you I care for you, too," she replied, looking down at her hands. "I'm a little afraid of admitting it because it feels so sudden, but it built up so slowly. I..I think I feel the same way you do."

She was blushing, but the moonlight washed out the pink from her face. Draco stared at her intently, his pale eyes hardly blinking.

"I've never felt this way for anyone before," she continued, reaching up to stroke his hair. "I know this is all new, but you feel familiar. I don't think I can explain it well enough."

"Would you say yes if I asked you to be mine?" he asked. His eyes were like glass under the moonlight—clear and grey, fringed with long, pale lashes. He'd taken her hand and stroked it slowly with his thumb.

Her brow furrowed slightly. Her mouth opened, then closed, then opened again.

"You mean…"

She gestured between themselves, her brow still bent but her eyes wide. Draco, fighting the urge to laugh, smiled.

"Well, yeah," he said.

"You don't think it's too sudden?" she asked, and his spirits lowered just a fraction.

He looked away, his gaze landing on the Deatheaters lingering nearby, oblivious to their presence.

"The way things are going," he said, "I don't know when else would be a good time to ask. If I don't live through this, I'd rather have now than later."

She frowned again at his words but nodded.

My odds don't look too good, either, she thought.

"Is that a no, then?" he asked, meeting her eye again. Hermione wished she were an artist, so she could try to capture the peculiar color of his eyes—they were so pale their color seemed to shift whether he was in light or shadow—and now, in the moon's light, they were bright and clear, almost like glass, but with a warmth that comforted her.

"No," she said softly. "My answer is yes." She couldn't help the grin that took over her face.

There was the tinkling of glass coming from inside the tent as the guests chanted for the newlyweds to kiss, then a pause, and then cheers and applause.

Draco smiled, and leaned in to kiss her deeply, plundering her lips. Hermione shifted to wrap her arms around his neck, wrapping him in his robe, too, and leaned back until she was lying on the ground with him on top of her, their mouths hardly separating but to break briefly for air.

His hands were on her neck, cupping her as they kissed. Hermione took one of them and guided it down to her breasts, where he eagerly took up her request, squeezing softly, massaging it in his palm as she shifted underneath him, moaning quietly into his lips.

Fingers slightly shaky, she reached up and pulled the straps of her dress down so that her bra was revealed, and then, withdrawing her wand, cut it in half, exposing her chest.

Draco had paused, staring at her, his eyes slightly wide, hooded with lust. His lips had parted.

"Here?"

She nodded through her blush.

At once he bent back down, his mouth sealing over her nipple, tongue brushing against it with a deliberate pressure that made her bite her lip again to keep a moan at bay.

His tongue rubbed against it, teasing the areola. Hermione's hands grabbed onto his head, pressing him closer against her breast. He was massaging the other with his free hand, his thumb circling the bud of her nipple when she took that hand and guided it down the length of her skirt, and underneath it.

He let out a groan, immediately drawing tighter in his trousers. He was hard, wanting nothing more than to wrap himself inside that heat, and thrust.

"Hermione."

She responded by bringing his fingers to her knickers, and he took over from there, almost dizzy with arousal at finding her wet through her knickers, radiating heat. She felt the initial touch and shivered.

She let out a groan of frustration as he trailed his hand away to smooth over the soft skin of her inner thigh and back up again. Hermione waited restlessly, her face pink, feeling the wetness at her core begin to slide down her thighs. Her knickers were beyond damp. She would have been embarrassed if she had cared.

His fingers stroked her inner thigh again. Waiting. Hermione had no patience left. She needed contact. More of it.

"Touch me," she said. "Please, Draco."

He obeyed.

At first contact her head fell back and she moaned. With one finger he traced her cleft over her knickers, feeling her heat. He continued this for a moment longer, feeling her clitoris through the damp fabric and circling around it slowly as his tongue continued to work at her nipple. Beads of sweat dotted her temples and forehead; her eyes were shut, and her head was pressed into the ground; she still wore his robe and her hair was getting messy, but she looked so beautiful he couldn't look away. Draco finally dragged her knickers down with his hand as best as he could and then made direct contact, stroking her methodically, testing her reactions. Eyebrows lifted, she let out a sharp breath as massaged around her clitoris .

"Draco," she whispered. He grinned and sucked on her hard little nipple. Her back arched. She almost squealed as he rubbed her faster, igniting a spark inside her.

"Shh."

She bit her lip, and he continued rubbing at her in just that manner that had her squirming underneath him, her legs restless and quivering.

Her mouth was wrenched open but she was silent now, her brows coming together. Her hand clamped over his and instantly alarmed, he was prepared to stop until she spoke.

"Just like that," she moaned, and he continued working her. "Go, go, go—ah."

He kissed her to cut off her exclamation of release. He could feel her quivering underneath him, and wrapped in lust, he continued rubbing at her, hoping to elicit another such exclamation when something bright caught his eye.

She had seen it, too, and looked in its direction, panting, sweat beading along her temples. An intensely bright blue light was emanating from the tent, casting an eerie glow around the garden. The sounds of the party had gone absolutely quiet.

"The Ministry has fallen," they heard Kingsley's voice say. "The Minister is dead."

Hermione turned to look towards where the Deatheaters were standing. They were closer, now. One of them was only feet away from the tent, a gloved hand pressing against the wards.

"Oh, god," Hermione whispered.

"They're coming. Run."

Then everything exploded into action.

Draco stood, helped her up, smoothing her skirts back down. Her hands were shaking so hard she had trouble pulling the straps of her dress and her knickers back up. Draco helped her, and grabbed her hand, and they ran into the tent.

People were screaming, some in confusion, others in terror. They were running in all directions, scrambling over chairs, Apparating away on the spot. Draco's hand was gripping hers so fiercely it hurt but she didn't dare let go. She scanned the chaos, heart in throat, searching for Harry and Ron.

There were the cracks of Apparition all around them, and she realized with horror people were coming in, rather than out.

Who?

There was no time to tell. She saw Tonks and Lupin with their wands drawn, trying to navigate the chaos. She caught eyes with Tonks. Tonk's face had gone ashen.

'Run', Tonks mouthed.

She caught sight of three black-robed figures on the edges of the crowd, wands raised, light coming from their wands. The light illuminated their silver masks. Her legs went weak.

"Do you see them?" Draco asked.

"No." She began to pull him towards the house. "I need to get something!"

He followed, and they scrambled into the house, nearly getting separated by the rush of guests attempting to leave. Whatever they were shouting was incomprehensible, but he caught one word clearly, and it was enough to make his stomach drop.

Deatheaters.

They got in.

He reached for his wand on instinct, and then remembered it had been locked away. But Hermione had hers out, and her hand was tight on his, pulling him through the terrified crowd.

Another hand latched onto him, and he looked back, heart stopping, expecting to see a silver mask. It was Pansy, and she nearly tore his whole robe off with the force of her grip. Her eyes were wide, desperate. He took her hand and pulled her along.

They found Ginny, Harry and Ron upstairs. Bill was just leaving them. He looked at them all seriously.

"Stay here, hide, and don't do anything stupid," he ordered. His wand was out. He rushed back downstairs.

Hermione ran into her room and came back almost instantly, slinging a leather purse over her body. She had thrown a muggle coat on.

At once, Draco understood.

It was time to go.

Pansy's hand tightened around his.

They could hear shouting downstairs. Multi-colored light reached the third floor landing window. He forced himself to look through it. Multiple Deatheaters had infiltrated the tent.

He felt like he might vomit. What would they do if they came inside and found them all here? Would they know it was him?

How did they get through? Were the wards broken?

The Order was holding them at bay. Many guests had stayed behind, too, to defend. That gave him some reassurance, but the Deatheaters seemed to be advancing little by little. Many Deatheaters already lay stunned or injured on the ground, but at a cost. Charlie appeared injured, and two guests lay on the ground, motionless.

"Draco, put this on," Hermione said. He turned back and she pushed a coat into his hands. "Quickly!"

He did, not even bothering to ask why.

"Where will you go?" Ginny asked. She looked on the verge of tears.

"I don't know," Hermione said, pressing her fingers to her temples. "I don't know. I thought I'd have time to plan it out. Anywhere."

"What about you?" Potter asked Pansy and Ginny.

"We'll hide, find some way to help you," Ginny said. "Bill said we could stay at his and Fleur's place if we want to." She made a face. "How will we be able to contact you?"

There was a loud BANG downstairs. They all looked at each other.

We've run out of time, Draco thought. His hands were clammy with sweat. Hermione stepped forward and pushed something into his hand. It was his wand. She was looking up at him seriously, fear written all over her face. He nodded slowly, although his mouth was dry and he wanted nothing more than to run.

Someone ran up the stairs so quickly they barely had enough time to draw their wands. They relaxed visibly upon finding Tonks there, bleeding and out of breath. She rushed over to them, pulling them all close.

"Whatever you're doing, wherever you're going," she hissed urgently, looking back over her shoulder, as if expecting to see someone had followed her up, "don't come back here. Someone at the Ministry betrayed us and took the wards down."

"Who?" Ron asked, looking furious.

"We've got an idea, but it doesn't matter now. Your home's compromised. Go anywhere else."

"How did you know we were leaving?" Hermione asked her, wide-eyed.

Tonks shook her head. "I just knew. Plus, it's what I'd do."

"What about the others?" Ron asked, looking down the stairs. He looked like he was about to be sick. Hermione could see his inner debate on whether to go, or run downstairs and help protect his home and family.

"They're fine," Tonks said hurriedly. "We've all got each other. You go do what you have to do."

"If you knew, did Mum know, too?" Ginny asked.

"She didn't."

They jumped as they heard another loud crash outside the Burrow. People were yelling, but their voices mixed together so haphazardly, it was hard to differentiate who was who.

"Go now," Tonks said. "We're keeping them from getting into the house. They think they've found everyone, since they don't know you're here."

"What about Grimmauld Place?" Harry asked quickly. "Is it still protected?"

Tonks looked unsure. "I don't know. Now that the Burrow's been breached, we'll probably have to move back there ourselves, unless we find someplace else."

"Like where?" Ron asked.

"I don't know...we'll think of something."

"Wait—we need to find Bill," Ginny said to Tonks, grabbing her arm urgently. "Pansy and I can't stay here."

Tonks frowned. "You're not all going together?"

"We decided it's safer not to," Draco said.

"Blimey. Alright." She worked her jaw and nodded to herself. She looked up at the others. "You, go now. If you wait any longer and they manage to come in and find you, it'll all be over."

Seeing their torn expressions, Tonks snapped, just as there was the sound of someone bursting through a door downstairs, running quickly in their direction.

"Now!"

They didn't even have time to say goodbye. All they could do was look at Ginny, Pansy, and Tonks and try to convey it through one quick, terrified look. Ginny looked pale, frightened, but resolute. Pansy was crying silently, staring at them all, worry in her eyes. Tonks tried to smile.

"Tonks!" They heard Charlie call. "There's more coming! We need to go!"

"Be careful, and stay safe," Tonks said quietly to them.

Hermione grabbed Draco's hand tightly in one, and Potter's hand in the other. Potter grasped Weasley's hand in his. Hermione closed her eyes, and they vanished with a soft 'pop'.

A/N:

This is officially the last chapter of Strange Mercy. (I might add an epilogue.) There will be a third part to this series. As soon as I manage to pick a title, I'll be posting again for your enjoyment. I know I've said that SM would be dark, but I decided to split it in two to keep it from getting too long (also because I don't have a lot of time to write currently so I need a breather to be able to focus on school. I already have a lot written for the next fic, but no first chapter currently.) The next installment will be the one that'll truly earn its M rating, so please bear that in mind if you choose to continue.

Thank you all so much for sticking with me and this story and continually leaving your feedback! This one has been a struggle but I'm proud of it and can't wait to continue the story right where we left off here in this chapter. I will be posting any updates I have on my blog about the development of the next story and you can ask me any questions you have. I have lots of social media accounts, so please don't be afraid to PM me and ask for a link to see what I'm up to! I get tired of feeling like I'm just dropping content into a void. If you have any fic recs, send them my way! If you want to share art you've made about one of my fics, show me! I don't bite! I'd really like to interact more with my readers, but it's a challenge.

Anyhow, sorry for rambling.

Thanks, as always. I'll see you all very soon.