Unlike a Sister (Harmione)

Chapter 19: Delirium

It snowed heavily that night, the old house silent as the blizzard raged against its walls. When Harry and Ginny awoke, ready to submerge themselves in final preparations for the ball, the grounds were glazed in untouched snow.

At ten that morning, Harry said "goodbye" to the children. They would spend the night at the Burrow. Cooks, cleaners, valets, security wizards, and decorators were already scouring the estate, providing ample opportunity for the children to get themselves into trouble. But, more importantly, Harry wanted them far away from the night's festivities. The wizarding glitterati had developed something of a mania about Harry's children.

It was a phenomena he'd never understood-why the magical press felt it was their business to run front page birth announcements for each of his children. Why they'd shown up outside James' preschool to capture pictures of his first day. Why, when Albus won a writing prize at Agrippa two years ago, some enterprising "reporters" broke into his classroom and stole his previous essays. Excerpts were published in The Screeching Mandrake, a muckraking tabloid. A few of the essays were about private family vacations and Albus' often difficult relationship with his brother. His youngest son was mortified. Harry was so enraged he considered conducting an investigation through the AD. Hermione patiently reminded him press violations were under the jurisdiction of Magical Law Enforcement. Several weeks later, though, she came to his office and slid a piece of paper across his desk. Written on it, in her efficient hand, were two names.

"That's who you're looking for," she said, matter-of-fact. "The first one hasn't paid taxes in two years. The second has an illegally registered alihotsy plot in his flat in Bethnal Green."

He had hugged her then.

Harry jerked his head. Memories of her plagued him now, like a recurring fever.

He spent much of the day in his study atop Clymene Court. He had tried to help with the preparations, but he found he just got in the way, the workers distracted by his presence. At half past six, Harry locked his study and descended the narrow staircase back to the main portion of the house. Knowing he needed to get dressed-the guests would start arriving at seven-he looked into the ballroom. He stopped short, amazed by what he saw there.

Their event planner, Angelo Russo, and his team were finalizing the decorations. They had hung enormous reams of diaphanous organza across the ceiling, stopping just before the central dome. Harry dryly thought this made the ceiling look like some enormous eye, the silken streamers jutting out like technicolor eyelashes. Giant glass orbs floated below the dome, refracting the evening light and almost making it feel like they were underwater.

It seemed overly much to Harry, but he knew his opinion didn't matter. Turning back to the hallway, he encountered the one person whose opinion did.

"Gin," Harry called as his wife nearly charged past him. She was still wearing her day clothes and her hair was set in enormous curlers.

"Oh, there you are," she said, agitated. "Why aren't you getting dressed?"

"I'm about to," he said quickly. "Wanted to see how things were getting on."

"We're nearly there," she mumbled captiously. "Just found out we're short twenty cases of champagne. Have had to put in an emergency order."

"It'll be fine," he said. "Everything looks great."

She pursed her lips, unsatisfied. "Would you get dressed? People will be here soon. We'll form a receiving line downstairs. If you see any of my brothers, tell them to join us there too, okay?"

"Yes, ma'am," he said, feeling like he was back in basic training. She rolled her eyes.

Fifteen minutes later, Harry descended the grand staircase and paced the foyer. Several valets stood in the corners, ready to open the doors and take the guests' coats.