Friday's Child // Draco Malfoy

28

A/N: plot does not strictly follow that of the book/films here. Harry is not disguised and I have omitted parts.

It felt as though the moment Juno had dropped to sleep, she was awoken again, by the sounds of The Burrow, somehow busier than usual, as Molly clanged pans together to wake its inhabitants up. The sun was scarcely peaking over the horizon, and it certainly was no later than 6AM.

The four of them had no time to even think about what had happened the previous day as Molly rushed in, pulling the blankets off each of their bodies - she had charmed the pots to clang together and follow her as she walked. 

They were all heaved out of bed, Ron clinging onto his bedsheets for dear life, the twins reluctant at first, but ever eager to wreak as much havoc as they could - following their mother and pouring water over their siblings and setting off mini fireworks in the name of 'getting everyone up' - scolded by the Weasley matriarch as they went. 

"Up! Up!" Molly chanted, "There's much to do. Your brother is getting married here in no less than six hours! Get out of bed, Ginevra - I won't tell you again." 

By quarter past six, the entire Weasley family, plus all the extras, were huddled around the table, bleary eyed sipping tea and coffee and forcing themselves to chew the toast that Molly insisted they eat. 

"Come on, dears. Eat up. We won't have time to eat until the feast later - so fill yourselves now. We've a busy day. We need the strength," She fretted, topping up Harry's plate with another four slices of toast, which he grimaced at, but thanked her for regardless. 

The morning past by in a blur of wedding decorations and nervous anticipation, and then by 12 o clock the vows between Bill and Fleur had been exchanged and suddenly everyone seemed to relax a fraction. 

It had been a bittersweet day. There were more than just wedding nerves as the party feared the death eaters turning up at any moment. Such nerves were laced with guilt as each felt to have a good time and relax was to betray the gravity of the war. Still, it was a beautiful ceremony, and a welcomed time for leisure as the witches and wizards smiled and mingled, and skirted around the topic of the war. 

Juno had stayed close by Harry's side all night, and Ron and Hermione were never too far away, always in eyesight, tensed and ready, should anything happen. Harry had spotted Elphias Doge, the writer of Dumbledore's obituary, and, eager to uncover more about Dumbleodre and his past, took a seat beside him, Juno quick to follow. Doge looked almost starstruck as Harry introduced himself, bumbling greetings and shaking his hand heartily. 

Doge spoke highly of Dumbledore, something that made Juno's stomach twist with disgust - after seeing her mother's diary and receiving the book in Dumbledore's will, she refused to see him in the heroic light everyone else saw him. Though she relied on the poor source of Rita Skeeter, Juno was glad when Ron's Aunt Muriel joined the conversation, to combat Dumbledore's heroism - despite the lack of fact and evidence, she was glad to know the whole world didn't follow Dumbledore blindly, even if her only ally was her dead mother and her friend's slightly wretched aunt. She could feel the anger radiating from Harry, and she could sense the betrayal he felt as he heard stories of a man he had idolised, as he learned the intimacies of a man he thought he had been intimate with. She could sense his anger and confusion, and she felt it too. How could Dumbledore do this? How could he leave Harry, a boy he claimed to care about, through a maze with no clear direction? How was it fair to put all of this on Harry's shoulders, to tell him he must defeat the Dark Lord, but not tell him how, but not tell him the vital details he needed to know? It was wholly unfair. The diary of her mother's seemed to burn against the skin of her leg, where she had strapped and charmed a small bag of necessities in case of the worst.