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Harry Potter and the Forgotten Enemy. by Marauding hippogriff
Chapter 24 : Chapter 24: Will You Do Me The Honour
Rating: MatureChapter Reviews: 2

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 Chapter 24: Will you do me the honour…

Harry and Ron arrived at the ministry just as the others did. Gawain was already there, looking very grave.

“Everyone here?” he asked, his voice showing his concern. “Good. We’ve got a serious problem. Dedalus has been kidnapped from Saint Mungo’s.” There was an outbreak of horror from the assembled Aurors.

“How?” cried Hestia, looked devastated. Harry knew she was close to Dedalus, aside from being partners.

“Two people, a man and a woman, broke in after visiting hours ended,” Gawain explained. “We don’t have much security on the place, it’s both an inconvenience and downright dangerous if someone needs to get in quickly.”

“Get on with it Gawain,” growled Hestia. Robards glared at her but continued.

“A couple of healers were incapacitated but none were killed, but as I say they got Dedalus out.”

“Why?” said Ben Williamson, sitting on his desk. “Why wouldn’t they just kill him?”

“They want him alive, obviously,” snapped Wilfred Savage. “What do you want us to do, Gawain?”

“Potter, Weasley, go to Saint Mungo’s and see what you can find out,” Gawain ordered. “Jones, you’re coming with me to watch the flat at Tottenham Court road. Lescott, Savage, I want you to go and watch Malfoy Manor. Richman, Williamson, I need you to go to Dedalus’ house, see if you can find anything there. Longbottom, Proudfoot, stay here and guard the Malfoys.” There was a chorus of ‘yes sirs’ as the Aurors hurried off to perform their duties.

“Saint Mungo’s then?” Harry said glumly, and he and Ron disapparated to the hospital.

“About time,” snapped a ruffled looking healer. “You must be the-Merlin’s beard,” he said, his jaw dropping. “Mr Potter, Mr Weasley, so glad to meet you,” he said, wringing both their hands. Harry was used to it, but Ron looked thoroughly taken aback.

“Urm… Hello,” he stuttered, his eyes looking slightly glazed. “We’re on official Auror business,” he added, trying to regain his composure. The healer looked taken aback.

“I didn’t know you were Aurors?”

“We’re here to ask some questions about the attack,” said Harry firmly. “Could you tell us anything?”

“Naturally,” said the healer. “I was on the ward at the time, one of the attackers petrified me.”

“Is there a place we can talk?” said Harry quickly. “In private?”

“My office?” suggested the healer. “It’s just down the corridor.”

“Perfect,” Harry replied.

“My name’s Jeremy Quinn by the way,” said the healer. “I work in the spell damage ward; I was treating Mr Diggle since the attack on Saturday.”

“What about Aberforth?” Ron asked.

“He made a totally miraculous recovery,” said Jeremy, shaking his head. “He discharged himself this morning, went storming off saying he had a bar to run,” Jeremy said disapprovingly. “He’s still on bloody crutches.”

“Aberforth always was pretty headstrong,” Harry explained.

“I noticed,” said Jeremy shortly. “Here we are.” He flicked his wand at a small wooden door, and stepped inside. The office was mildly furnished, with a desk and three chairs, several rolls of parchment and scattered quills, as well as a rather dangerous looking pot plant. “Watch out for the plant, he bites,” Jeremy said offhandedly, plonking himself down on the chair at the back of the room. Ron took a nervous step away from the plant, and pulled his own chair as far away as possible.

“Write this down,” Harry muttered. “And do Muffliato,” he added. Ron nodded, pulled out the pen Harry had given him from his jacket pocket (they hadn’t had time to change back into their Auror robes) and borrowed a piece of parchment from Jeremy. He also waved his wand, muttering the incantation under his breath, and Harry knew they could speak freely.

“Now,” said Jeremy, stretching out his arms, “what can I do for you two?”

“You could start by telling us about the attack,” Harry suggested. “Did you recognise either of the attackers?”

“Only one,” said Jeremy. “One of them was Greyback.”

“Fenrir?” said Harry sharply. “I thought he was in Azkaban?”

“Yeah,” said Ron. “Me and Dean took him out in the battle.”

“He escaped, didn’t you hear?” said Jeremy offhandedly. “It was definitely him, you could tell by the smell.”

“Right,” said Harry. “So maybe Dedalus wasn’t captured by the Consecrat. And the other?”

“I didn’t recognise her,” admitted Jeremy. “But she was one scary woman. Blonde, and black eyes that chilled my very soul,” he whispered.

“There was a woman like that on Saturday,” Ron muttered. Harry nodded. 

“Anything else you can tell us, Mr Quinn?” Harry asked.

“Not really. They burst in, I asked them to leave and I was stunned and petrified before I could even raise my wand. When I came round, Diggle was gone.”

“And the other patients?”

“All fine,” Jeremy replied. “Stunned, but no lasting harm done.”

“Good,” said Harry. “Could you possibly take us up to the ward? I want to have a look around.”

“No problem,” said Jeremy airily. “It’s up on the fourth floor.”

“Make sure we don’t run into Lockhart,” muttered Ron as Jeremy swept out the door. Harry chuckled and shook his head.

“We could stun him and say we thought he was in on it?” suggested Harry.

“Anyone who knew him before or after the accident would know we were lying,” Ron replied. “If he couldn’t round up a group of angry pixies he couldn’t perform a kidnapping in a thousand years.”

“True, we’ll stay out of his way,” Harry assured him as they marched up the stairs.

“Here we are gents,” said Jeremy, oblivious of their conversation thanks to the Muffliato charm. “I’ll leave you too it, I’ve work to do,” he said, wandering off down the ward.

“Doesn’t look like we’re gonna find anything,” said Ron sceptically, looking around. There were a couple of sleeping wizards on either sides of Dedalus’ empty bed. The bed had the covers pulled off and the pillow lying on the floor. “I’ll check the bedside table,” he said, bending down beside it. Harry got on his hands and knees and checked under the bed.

“I don’t think there’s anything here,” Harry muttered, trying to remember the spell Hermione used to detect enchantments. “Ron…” he started to ask, but Ron cut him off.

“Harry,” he said excitedly, “it’s his D.A galleon!” He held up the fat golden coin triumphantly. “There’s a message… Says the werewolves have joined Grindelwald, Malfoy not safe,” Ron read, looking worried.

“We have to tell Robards,” said Harry immediately. “Just one more thing…Specialis Revelio,” he muttered, waving his wand. Nothing happened.

“Either you did the charm wrong, or there’s nothing there,” sniggered Ron. “Let’s go with the second and go find Robards.”

“I did it fine,” Harry grumbled as they walked down the stairs, though he wasn’t really sure he had. “Maybe we should send Robards a coin message, in case he’s undercover or something.”

“Probably a good idea. Are you gonna do it or am I?”

“I’ll do it,” Harry replied, pulling out two coins from his moleskin pouch, checking them and then replacing one.

“Why’ve you got two?” Ron asked as Harry tapped the coin to send the message.

“One’s for the Order, one’s just for the D.A,” Harry explained. “Just in case.”

“Fair enough,” Ron shrugged. “What’d you say?”

“I said ‘found something, orders?” Harry said as they reached the lobby. “We should probably go back to the office,” he added.

“Nothing else to do,” Ron agreed. “We can keep Neville company, bet he’s sick of Lucius and Narcissa.”

“I would be,” Harry agreed. “Let’s go.” They both turned on the spot and disapparated. Harry arrived to see Neville’s wand pointed at his chest, with Ron similarly watched by Proudfoot.

“What did Hermione do to me when I tried to stop you leaving in first year?” he asked suspiciously.

“She petrified you,” Harry replied promptly. “But you got ten points, which won us the house cup.”

“It’s them,” he said, stowing his wand in his robes. “You were quick. Find anything?”

“A little,” said Harry. “We know Grindelwald’s working with the werewolves, and Dedalus reckons Malfoy’s in danger.”

“How do you know?” asked Luke Proudfoot, sitting on his chair and leaning back.

“Well, the healer we questioned said the two attackers were Greyback, and he described a woman we’re sure was at the battle on Saturday,” Harry explained.

“Blonde hair, black eyes,” Ron supplied, reading from his notepad.

“She was,” confirmed Neville. “Gran and I duelled her, but she got away before we could finish her off.”

“And also,” continued Harry, “Dedalus left us a message on his coin.”

“Why didn’t he just send it?” Neville asked, confused. Harry shrugged.

“No idea, guess he didn’t have the time.”

“What did it say?” said Proudfoot impatiently.

“The werewolves have joined Grindelwald, Malfoy not safe,” Ron recited. “Pretty straight to the point, so maybe he just had time to write it and throw it in his bedside cabinet and hope to god we looked.”

“Or it could be a trap,” said Proudfoot sagely. “He could be trying to lure us away from our other duties to protect the Malfoys.”

“Could be,” said Harry. He felt his coin burn in his pocket. “Gawain’s answer,” he muttered. “He wants us to meet him on the roof opposite the flat,” he said, indicating Ron. Harry pulled his invisibility cloak from its ever present place inside his jacket. “Come on,” he said, throwing it over them both. They apparated onto the roof, and Gawain instantly drew his wand, pointing it to the other side of the roof from them.

“Who goes there?” he growled menacingly.

“If we were Consecrat, you’d be dead by now,” said Harry, grinning as he threw off the cloak. Robards didn’t smile as he turned around.

“Evening Potter, Weasley,” he said, lowering his wand. “What’ve you found out?”

“Grindelwald’s allied with the werewolves, those under Greyback,” Harry said grimly.

“When did he escape anyway?” Ron enquired.

“We left him with the Magical Law Enforcement squad, and the fools tried to take him to Azkaban on a full moon,” Gawain grunted. “He tore them to pieces and swam back to shore.”

“And now he’s working with Grindelwald?” said Hestia, looking horrified. “This is bad.”

“Extremely,” agreed Robards, nodding his head. “Anything else?”

“Dedalus managed to leave his Order coin,” Ron put in. “He reckons Malfoy’s in danger.”

“We’ll have someone watch the house every night then,” Gawain replied. “We’ll have to get help from the Order,” he added thoughtfully. “Hestia, you’re taking first watch with me tonight,” he added.

“Great,” said Hestia sarcastically. “I wasn’t looking forward to a night with my boyfriend and a bottle of wine anyway.” Robards ignored her.

“You two have done well,” he said to Harry and Ron. “Go home and enjoy yourself. And since I’ve called you out, you can have until Monday to finish that paperwork.”

“Thank you sir,” said Harry, and he and Ron disapparated back to the front step of Grimmauld Place.

“At least that means we can get Hermione to help us with it,” said Ron cheerfully. “Reckon Kreacher will make us a sandwich?”

“Probably, call him. And I’m sure that’s exactly what Hermione would love to do with you after she hasn’t seen you on nearly three weeks,” Harry said sarcastically. Ron ignored him.

“Kreacher,” he called cheerfully, and the little elf trotted obediently round the corner.

“Master Wheezy called?” he croaked.

“Yeah, could you make us some sandwiches please?” Ron asked. “We’ve been out on an Auror mission and we’re bloody starving.”

“Kreacher will,” said the elf, smiling. “Kreacher will bring them through.” And he trotted off back towards the kitchen. Harry flopped down on his usual spot on the sofa, while Ron took his usual chair.

“You realise we were only out for an hour and all we had to do was poke around a hospital right?” Harry reminded him, laughing. “Only you could be made hungry by that.”

“Probably,” shrugged Ron. He flicked his wand at the wireless that sat on the fireplace, and it crackled into life, and a familiar voice filled the room.

“And that was the Weird Sisters, with their latest number one ‘The Chosen One’, a tribute to the great Harry Potter,” said Lee Jordan cheerfully. “Bet you loved that, did you Harry? Coming up, we’ve got highlights of the commentary of Chudley Cannon’s defeat against Puddlemere United…”

“I didn’t know Lee was on wizarding wireless network now,” said Harry curiously.

“I didn’t know you had a song written about you,” snorted Ron.

“Neither did I,” confessed Harry. “Although I’m glad it was by the Weird Sisters and not Celestina Warbeck.”

“Fair point, Mum wouldn’t stop playing it for one thing,” Ron chuckled.

“I’m sure Fleur would enjoy it,” Harry grinned. Kreacher set an enormous plate of ham and cheese sandwiches down on the table. “Thanks Kreacher.”

“Master is most welcome,” said Kreacher, bowing. “Kreacher has laid out master’s clothes for tomorrow, will master need Kreacher anymore tonight?”

“No Kreacher, you’re fine. Go get some sleep,” said Harry kindly. Kreacher smiled toothily before wandering off up the stairs.

“Hermione would approve,” observed Ron. “I’m quite looking forward to Saturday, it’ll be nice to go back.” Harry nodded.

“It’s been a while since we were there just…normal hasn’t it,” said Harry thoughtfully. “Before Dumbledore died, I guess.”

“Too long,” agreed Ron. “Shame we can’t just have a normal life, isn’t it?”
“But why would they want Dedalus?” asked Hermione for what had to be the thousandth time that day.

“Merlin knows,” Ron said wearily. “To be honest Hermione, we were hoping you could help us,” he admitted.

“Aw, lost without me?” she teased, laughing. Harry and Ron remained very serious.

“Yes, actually,” Harry said. “Although we have managed to catch Dolohov and the Malfoys so far, then again if we had you with us we’d probably have beaten Grindelwald already.”

“You two will do fine,” she said firmly. “Did you say you captured the Malfoys?” she said suddenly, a familiar look crossing her face that Harry know to mean she’d worked something out.

“Yes,” he said slowly. “Why?”

“Don’t you see?” she said earnestly. Harry and Ron both looked at her blankly, and she gave an exasperated sigh. “Honestly. Malfoy can remove the wards at the manor!” Harry looked at her in wonderment, before hugging her and kissing her forehead.

“You are brilliant Hermione,” he said triumphantly, punching the air. “I can’t believe not one of the Aurors thought of it.”

“You’re all the same, you over complicate things,” she said offhandedly, blushing slightly.

“Maybe they do, but me and Harry are just thick,” Ron said, and they laughed.

“When’d Ginny say she was finished her detention?” Harry asked once they’d finished. Hermione checked her watch.

“About ten minutes. If you hurry, you’ll catch her coming out,” she said, and Harry nodded.

“Oh, Happy birthday Hermione,” he said quickly, handing her a wrapped parcel from inside his robes. “I hope you like it,” he winked, before hurrying off. It was a long walk from Gryffindor Tower down to the third floor where Charms was located, but when you knew the castle’s secret passageways as well as Harry did, it wasn’t too much of a problem. He pulled the marauders map out from his moleskin pouch and activated it, watching the spider like lines spread across the parchment. Sure enough, Ginny was sat in Flitwick’s office, with only the charms professor for company. To his relief, Peeves was bobbing up and down in the empty great hall, and Filch was safely in his office. Most of the castle’s inhabitants were in their common rooms or enjoying the last few days of summer in the grounds.  Sliding through his well-worn route down to charms, he managed to get there just as Ginny was leaving. She still hadn’t noticed him, and the old Potter mischievousness snuck up on Harry. He threw the cloak over himself, waited until she’d taken a couple of steps, then said, just loud enough for her to hear;

“Good evening, Miss Weasley.” The effect was spectacular. Ginny gave a shriek of surprise, leapt almost a foot into the air, dropping her bag and fumbled for her wand.

“YOU ARSEHOLE HARRY POTTER!” she roared as Harry removed the cloak, holding his sides with laughter. “I nearly died!” she said weakly.

“It was an unmissable opportunity,” Harry said innocently. “Besides, I felt I should punish you for your detention,” he added wryly.

“It was for hexing a slytherin,” Ginny told him.

“What’d they do?”

“Called me a blood traitor.” Harry pulled her close and kissed her.

“Then I’ve changed my tune, I’m very proud of you.”

“I’ve missed you,” she whispered softly.

“Let’s go sit by the lake,” Harry replied. “I haven’t done that for a while.”

“I’d like that,” she replied, smiling. As they walked through the corridors, Harry remembered the last time he’d sat by the lake with Ginny.

It was the day after Dumbledore had died. The questions he got from his classmates, the odd looks and the whisperings that followed him around the classroom drove him to find solitude. As he so often did, he found himself under the old beech tree by the lake. He stood, alone, watching the sun slowly begin to descend bellow the horizon. A small, soft hand entwined his. He knew it was her, and for a while, neither of them said anything, she just rested her head on his shoulder, slipping her arm round his waist, his round her own shoulders.

“You should come back,” Ginny’d finally said. “It’s getting cold.”

“I don’t feel it,” Harry’d replied. He turned to face her, looking her in the eye. “What am I going to do? I can’t beat him alone!” he’d cried despairingly.

“You can,” said Ginny firmly. “You’ll win, I-“ but he’d cut her off, pulling her close, kissing her, crushing his lips to hers, lifting her off his feet in his enthusiasm.

“If anything gets me through, it’ll be you,” he’d said softly, kissing away her tears. And they’d collapsed in each other’s arms, the weight of grief and fear all too much for them.

Now promised to be a far happier occasion, he hoped. He looked sideways at Ginny, who looked to reminiscing herself. Harry wondered whether she was thinking of the same day.

“I’m sick of school,” she lamented. “I want to be at home, with you.”

“It’s probably better if one of us passes our NEWTS,” Harry laughed. “Plus I doubt your mum would be happy if her four youngest kids didn’t finish Hogwarts.”

“I suppose you’re right,” she conceded. “Doesn’t make it any easier.”

“At least you’ll see me more than last year,” Harry pointed out. “You’ll be sick of me soon,” he joked.

“I don’t think I could ever be sick of you,” she said seriously, pulling him closer. “Ever.”

“And you call me a sweetheart?” he teased. “Don’t worry, after this year, we’ll have all the time in the world to do whatever the hell we want.” Ginny beamed at him.

“I can hardly wait.”
“Mr Diggle, cooperating would seriously help your case,” said Gellert silkily. “I would rather not force you to do so.”

“Go to hell,” spat Dedalus weakly.

“Crucio,” said Gellert idly, flicking his wand. Dedalus yelped in pain and thrashed against his bindings, but to no avail. “It’s a shame you insist on fighting the imperius curse so much,” he said, removing the curse. “Soon you’ll see it is futile to resist. Diffindo!” he growled, slashing his wand, bloodying Dedalus’ face.

“Bastard,” muttered Dedalus under his breath, panting heavily.

“You’re mistaken,” said Gellert icily. “I’m the least of your worries. My friends just itching to meet you, although you might find it a little…hairy.” Dedalus’ eyes dilated ever so slightly with fear.

“Greyback,” he whispered. Then his expression hardened. “You’ll have to kill me.”

“I assure you I plan to,” replied Gellert nonchalantly. “But first you will deliver me young master Malfoy.”

“Never,” Dedalus growled.

“You don’t have a choice,” Gellert said simply. “I will have my way with you, whether you like it or not.” At this point, Rookwood poked his head through the cellar door.

“My lord, we have a problem,” he said.

“I shall return soon, Dedalus,” said Gellert. “What is it?” he said as soon as they were out of earshot.

“The Aurors have captured the Malfoys,” Rookwood replied. “It was in the Prophet this morning, we managed to buy one in Knockturn Alley.” Gellert cursed.

“They could blow the entire operation,” he growled. “We need a plan, quickly.” Then a smile broke across his face. “And I have just the idea. Wait here, do nothing until I get back,” he ordered.

“Yes, my lord,” Rookwood bowed. “Shall I see to the prisoner?”

“If you want,” said Gellert indifferently. “But we need him alive.” Rookwood nodded and went back into the cellar, while Gellert headed for the front gates. He slipped outside and disapparated, straight into the atrium of the ministry. Since it was a Saturday, it was almost empty, but a few people wandered around, including to Gellert’s pleasure, the minister himself alongside Gawain Robards. “Good evening gentlemen,” he said dangerously, conjuring up a shield charm before they could even draw their wands.

“Don’t let him escape!” roared Robards, drawing his own wand.

“I mean no harm,” said Gellert calmly. “I bring, merely a warning.”

“Out with it then,” spat Robards.

“If you attack the Manor, then we shall kill your Auror. His life is in your hands now,” Gellert said forcefully. “I’d urge you to act cautiously.” With that, he turned on the spot and disapparated again, before the surrounding wizards could cast the wards that would prevent him from doing so.

“What did you do?” asked Rookwood as Gellert returned to the cellar.

“I warned them that if they should try to attack this building, then Mr Diggle here would be killed,” he said calmly. “Do you trust your friends, Diggle? Because the only way they can save you now is by holding back.” Dedalus responded by spitting at Gellert’s shoes.


“Crucio,” Geller said coldly, and the Manor was filled with the shudder inducing screams of the tortured Auror.
“I must say,” Harry muttered softly, “this is one of the best uses for the room of requirement I’ve ever thought off.”

“It wasn’t bad,” admitted Ginny. “Where’re Ron and Hermione?”

“Ron snuck her off back to Grimmauld Place for the night,” Harry said. “I was too scared of McGonagall to try.” Ginny shuddered.

“I don’t blame you, I feel the same,” she admitted. “You’ll stay tomorrow?”

“Of course,” said Harry. “Unless I get called in, but I can’t see that happening,” he said confidently. “Ron and I are working next weekend, see.”

“Who’s tracking Zabini now then?”

“We never managed to find him,” Harry admitted. “The French ministry wouldn’t allow us to view their portkey records.”

“Idiots,” lamented Ginny. “Why?”

“No idea…Oh bloody hell,” he muttered as a silvery shape zoomed into the room, reforming into a large dog. “Gawain,” he explained darkly.

“We know where Dedalus is. You may get called in tomorrow, otherwise staff meeting Monday morning.” Harry breathed a sigh of relief.

“I thought I was going to have to go here and now,” he said.

“Wow, being married to an Auror must be difficult,” Ginny mused. “I imagine you get used to being woken up by a patronus all the time.”

“Only the Order members know how to do patronus messaging,” Harry reminded her. “Just a shame my boss is one of them.”

“It could be worse.”


“He could’ve turned up in person.”

“I think I’d have died,” Harry laughed, looking around the warmly lit room. They were sharing a four-poster bed, merely cuddling and enjoying each other’s company, a far cry from what Harry imagined Ron and Hermione were up too. “I really shouldn’t have let them go back alone,” he said suddenly. “They better not use my new bed.”
“Harry’d kill us if he knew we were using his bed,” Hermione whispered.

“Are you going to tell him?” Ron pointed out.

“No, but Kreacher might,” Hermione said.

“He likes me more now,” Ron said calmly. “More Firewhiskey?” She nodded, and Ron poured them both a glass. “To us,” he said, toasting.

“To us,” Hermione echoed, drinking deeply. “You look uncomfortable,” she added.

“Bathroom,” Ron said evasively, leaping up and hurrying into the ensuite bathroom. “Muffliato,” he muttered, waving his wand. “Harry,” he whispered, picking up his mirror. Harry’s face, his chest clearly bare, filled the glass.

“What?” he said impatiently.

“First, get your paws off my sister,” Ron said cheekily. “Second, I’m drunk.”

“Have you been at my Firewhiskey?” Harry demanded, ignoring the first remark.

“Maybe,” said Ron innocently. “I’ll pay you back.”

“Sure you will,” said Harry sarcastically. “What do you want?”

“Advice,” Ron said promptly.

“You’ve got four older brothers and you still come to me? Now?” Harry said incredulously. “Get on with it.”

“I got the ring.” Harry’s jaw dropped, realisation spreading across his face.


“I’m asking you,” Ron said desperately.

“It’s not exactly romantic is it?”

“Your bed is nice,” Ron pointed out. “Oh. Oops.”

“I’m going to kill you,” Harry said calmly. “My advice? Conjure up a rose, get the ring and get it over with.”

“Still not very romantic is it?” Ron pointed out.

“So take her out to dinner tomorrow I don’t know,” said Harry, exasperated. “I’m as bad at this stuff as you are, you know that.”

“Lavender didn’t cry when I took her on a date,” Ron said defensively

“And Cho didn’t call me ‘Warry’ and try to eat my face every time I saw her,” Harry snapped. Ron blushed

“I have to go, she’ll be wondering where I’ve got too, I only went for a number one.”

“Just thought you’d call for some last minute advice? Brilliant,” said Harry, rolling his eyes. “Good luck mate, not that you need it.” Ron grinned.

“Thanks, love you man.”

“Leave the rest of my Firewhiskey alone,” said Harry, half stern, half amused. “I love you too, but let’s never speak of this again.”

“Agreed, see you tomorrow Harry,” Ron said, and Harry’s face disappeared. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Ron conjured up a rose, which he had to say, by his standards, was fantastic. He then pulled the little velvet box from the pocket of his robes, which were hanging on the back of the door, and returned into the room.

“What took you so long?” smirked Hermione. “I was beginning to think you’d fallen down the toilet.”

“Not quiet,” grinned Ron. “Hermione…there’s something I want to ask you,” he said, dropping to his knee. Hermione’s jaw dropped, she clapped a hand to her mouth and turned bright pink.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” she whispered, tears of happiness springing to her eyes.

“I know we’ve had our rocky patches in the past,” Ron said theatrically. “But, deep down, I’ve loved you for years, even before I knew it, and it’s only looking back I realise how long it’s been.” He took a deep breath. “Hermione Jean Granger, will you do me the honour of being my wife?” he finished, opening the box, revealing a lavish gold band, inlaid with one large diamond and two small sapphires, Hermione’s birthstone.

“Yes,” she squealed. “Oh Merlin yes!” and she threw herself at him, and he stood up, spinning her around in his arms. “I love you Ronald Weasley,” she whispered, kissing him.

“I love you too sweetheart,” he muttered. “Happy Birthday.”

“The best present I could’ve ever wanted,” she said softly. “Though that perfume you got me was lovely too,” she added kindly.

“It’s the one I got you fifth year, for Christmas,” he admitted. “I knew I should get you it when I realised that’s what I smell when I’m near Amortentia.”

“Really?” she said softly, looking up at him. He nodded.

“That, along with bacon and my mum’s cooking.” She rolled her eyes, and they both laughed. “What about you, other than freshly mown grass and new parchment?”

“You remembered?” she said, surprised. “Urm, your hair actually.”

“My hair?” said Ron blankly. “What’s it smell like?”

“Everyone’s hair smells different. Ask Harry, he smells Ginny’s hair.”


“Yes, Ron?”

“Can your parents sort out the wedding? I don’t think I could stand it if my mum takes charge again.”
“Was that Ron?” Ginny asked curiously as Harry returned, having gone to the bathroom the room had provided to answer the mirror.

“Yeah,” Harry replied. “He is in my bed,” he grumbled.

“Git. What’d he want?”

“You’re not going to believe it,” Harry said, climbing back into bed.

“Try me,” Ginny teased, huddling closer to him. He raised his eyebrow at her.

“Alright then,” he said after a moment. “Ron’s about to propose to Hermione. Ginny’s jaw dropped.


“He’s been at my firewhiskey.”

“Explains a lot,” she said airily. “Damn… I owe George five galleons.”

“How come?”

“I bet him Ron wouldn’t do it,” Ginny giggled. Harry chuckled.

“I’ll admit, I thought it would take him longer,” Harry admitted. “But I have more faith in him than you.”

“I’ll never understand why.”

“If you knew him like I do, you would,” Harry said simply.

“I’ll take your word for it,” Ginny replied. “Now, how about we stop talking for a while?”

“I could do that,” he replied, a mischievous grin spreading onto his face.
“Stop drinking all the Firewhiskey!” Draco snapped irritably. “I’m sick of cleaning up your puke, I’m not a servant.”

“Leave it then,” shrugged Dudley. “I don’t particularly care, brightens the place up a bit.”

“So would turning you into a parrot,” Draco retorted.

“You’re too scared of Harry to do anything,” Dudley taunted. “You’re a coward.” That stung Draco.

“If you think I’m scared of Potter, you must be stupider than I thought,” Draco hit back. “Which I much say, is an achievement, to be honest.”

“What?” Dudley grunted.

“My point exactly,” sighed Draco. He almost preferred Azkaban to this-at least there he wasn’t required to talk to anybody.

“You’re insulting me!” accused Dudley.

“Well done!” said Draco, applauding sarcastically. “You deserve a medal, probably the first time you’ve ever used your brain is it?” Dudley leapt to his feet, his fists raised. “Don’t even try it,” said Draco lazily. “I’ll hex you into a jellyfish.”

“Without your wand?” Dudley countered. Ah, Draco thought. His wand was on the table, on the other side of the room. As Dudley cracked his enormous knuckles, Draco couldn’t help but miss Crabbe and Goyle. This was going to be a long imprisonment. 

A/N Apologies for the long wait, I've been away. Further apologies for the sopppy romance present here, but I think it's nessecary for once. Big thanks to Jimmbo for nominating me for a Dobby, so honoured! Next chapter will be up as soon as I can.

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