Lost Memories

lix. bad to worse

The Weasley-Delacour Wedding went from weird to bad to worse.

From the thousands of Weasleys to the Lovegoods getting bitten by garden gnomes, the wedding was something to witness.

"Hermione, you will never guess who I just saw?" I whispered into Hermione's ear.

"Who?" she said hastily.

Hermione looked around but didn't see the dark-haired young man coming our way. Hermione wore her hair in a low bun and had on a pale green dress. As Viktor caught my eye, I nudged my head over towards us.

"You look vunderful," he said.

"Viktor!" Hermione shrieked, making me drop her silver clutch, which made a loud thump quite disproportionate to its size. I groaned, picking it up, as she said, "I didn't know you were —goodness — it's lovely to see — how are you?"

"Good, good," Viktor smiled. He turned to me and also gave me a hug, "you look nice, Charlet, is it?"

"Lottie, yes! I haven't seen you in ages," I laughed.

"How come you're here?" Ron blurted as Hermione, Viktor, and I talked.

"Fleur invited me," said Viktor, eyebrows raised.

Viktor spoke with Hermione for a while until Fred came over.

"Time to sit down or we're going to get run over by the bride."

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I took our seats in the second row behind Fred and George. Hermione looked rather pink and Ron's ears were still scarlet. I sat in between both of them with Harry to Ron's right. After a few moments, Ron muttered to Harry, "Did you see he's grown a stupid little beard?"

Harry gave a noncommittal grunt and I just sighed at his poetry jealousy.

The ceremony was beautiful, as was the reception afterwards. Hermione and I spent most of the evening together while Ron and Harry moped around. It reminded me of the Yule Ball we had gone to during our fourth year; it was the same, Hermione and I danced until we dropped while Ron and Harry sulked at their tables— except our dresses were different and it was the middle of the summer, not Christmas.

Luckily for us, Fred and George accompanied us on the dance floor while Harry and Ron got trapped with Auntie Muriel, who I had the displeasure of meeting. By the time Hermione and I gave up, I swore Fred or George placed a dancing jinx on our shoes.

Pulling Hermione off the dance floor, I saw Ron sneak away from Harry and Auntie Muriel, "Can you get us some butterbeers or apple cider please?" Ron huffed and nodded.

"I simply can't dance anymore," Hermione panted, slipping off one of her shoes and rubbing the sole of her foot. I threw myself onto a chair and did the same.

"Ron's gone looking to find more butterbeers. It's a bit odd, I've just seen Viktor storming away from Luna's father, it looked like they'd been arguing —" I broke off, staring at Harry. "Harry, are you okay?"

Just before Harry could respond to me, something large and silver came falling through the canopy over the dance floor. Graceful and gleaming, the lynx landed lightly in the middle of the astonished dancers. Heads turned, as those nearest, it froze absurdly in mid-dance. Then the Patronus's mouth opened wide and it spoke in the loud, deep, slow voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming."

Everything seemed fuzzy and slow, but the three of us jumped to our feet and drew our wands. Many people just realized something strange had happened; heads were still turning toward the silver cat as it vanished. Silence spread outward in cold ripples from the place where the Patronus had landed. Then somebody screamed.