FORTY-THREE:
wedding crashers — aminé and offset
( 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆, 𝟏𝟕 )
Meredith liked dancing.
She wasn't particularly talented in it; wasn't trained as a professional in her youth, wasn't a child prodigy, but she liked it all the same. It was her way of feeling alive, of letting the music wash over her in waves of joy and melancholy all at the same time. It didn't need words which could get oh-so-complicated sometimes, it just needed you and the music and the floor. It was movement and grace in its purest form.
"Do you want to dance?" Meredith turned around to see Hermione with her hand outstretched, a small smile resting on her lips.
Meredith laughed, "Are you sure that you don't want to dance with any of the fine gentlemen here? I think I saw Viktor Krum talking to you just now. And Ron is looking a little lonely." The two turned around to see Ron lurking around in the corner, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Meredith would bet 5 galleons that he was trying to get the nerve to ask Hermione to dance.
Hermione brushed it off, "Oh, we had a thing during the Triwizard Tournament but he's not for me." She took Meredith's hand, "Besides, after all this is over...who knows when we'll see each other again."
Meredith's heart twinged: she didn't like goodbyes.
And so she obliged, following Hermione out onto the dance floor where Luna and her father were doing some interpretative movements, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were tearing up the dance floor, and a couple of the Weasley cousins had forms a Congo line. It was the first time in a while that Meredith had seen everyone so lighthearted and carefree, all wearing big and genuine smiles on their faces.
As the pair jived (rather ungracefully) the the lively music, Meredith thought back to Slughorn's Christmas party. To her friends and how Daphne had begged to be her date and how Blaise took the longest to get ready and how Hermione spent the night running away from McLaggen. To her dance with Draco to save him from being thrown out after party-crashing. To her finally being able to admit that she wanted to choose him, even if it was the most selfish thing she had ever done.
"Itz you!"
Meredith spun around to see her old headmistress, Madame Maxime dressed in a loose fitting purple robe. She grinned widely up at the giant of a woman, "Yes, it's me, your most annoying student. Aren't you glad that you kicked me out?"
"You weren't." Madame Maxime laughed lightly, "I 'ave had far more problems than Meredith Darling." The corner of Meredith's mouth twitched; okay, maybe she was still a little annoyed because she was kicked out of Beauxbatons for almost no good reason. But then again it brought her to Hogwarts so she supposed that she should be thanking Madame Maxime. Thank her for all the joy and the pain that it had brought her. All the life it had given her. The possible future it had given her.
"Cheer up, won't you? It's a wedding!" She blinked and suddenly she was no longer dancing with Hermione but with Fred who had taken her arm and was spinning her around. She laughed, unable to remain sad because no one was ever sad around Fred Weasley, "I will! If I don't puke from all the spinning!"
He grinned widely, "You know, Meredith, if you ever need to play a huge prank on Hogwarts now that some Ministry hag will probably take over, Weasley's Wizard Wheezes has got your back."
She rolled her eyes playfully in response, punching him in the shoulder, "Of course, if I should ever desire to—"
The ground shook violently all of a sudden, cutting her off. The dangling lights shuddered and a wave of uncertainty rolled through the crowd of partygoers. The band paused, the music stopped.
Meredith reached for her wand but cursed internally upon realising that she had left it in her room because she couldn't find a place to tuck it into her dress. She supposed that with everything going on, it was easy to forget about tone war outside, even for a moment. Fred tensed up beside her momentarily, furtive as he scanned the room. Something was coming.
A silver lynx landed on the middle of the dance-floor, chasing away some of the guests. It was majestic, the soft white of the graceful Patronous gave them a sense of calm. But as everyone knew, it was the calm before the storm.
"The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They
are coming."
"They are coming."
Chaos broke out in the reception area.
People were running, pushing aside chairs, screaming, shouting. She spotted Fleur and Bill in the centre of the dance floor, Fleur clutching the front of Bill's robes as they muttered to one another, their foreheads pressed together.
Then they broke apart and returned to their duties.
The fear overtook her and her chest began to seize up; her ears were ringing, bathing her in silence despite the noise as everyone scrambled away. It felt as if she were standing on a beach but the waves were cresting higher and higher and it was about to come crashing down, swallowing her whole.
A cloud of billowing black descended upon them. The Death Eaters; they were here.
"Get back to the Burrow!" Bill shouted over at Meredith who was still rooted to the ground as people hurried past her, running to the edges of the Burrow to apparate away to safety. She couldn't see Hermione or Harry or Ron; she hoped that they managed to get away.
Like her feet had a mind of its own, they followed Bill's instructions and she sprinted off back to the Burrow. The wind whistled past her ears as she ducked under a flaming beam and dodged a flash of green light; She gasped a little as she skidded to the left to avoid a flash of purple that zipped way too close to her face.
Back to the Burrow, back to the Burrow, she let one piece of information consume her mind as she continued running and the warm and inviting front door drew nearer, the cool evening air stinging her face. It was the perfect weather for a wedding.
It wasn't long before she threw herself past the threshold of the house and was greeted by Molly who managed to pull her away, slamming the door behind her. She was the last of the the inhabitants of the Burrow to return;
"You're fine now," Molly soothed her as Meredith took gasping breaths, trying to calm her heart which was racing, the older woman stroking her hair gently, "You're absolutely fine now, you hear me?"
Bill, who was clutching Fleur's hand tightly, was pacing around the room, "They're going to question us."
"What, ask us if we're supporting the Order?" Fred asked from where he sat on the couch beside George. The sleeve of his suit was torn.
Meredith surveyed the room, taking in all the wary faces of the Weasley family; She cleared her throat, "Where's Hermione, Ron, and..." But Arthur was quick to cut her off, putting a finger over his lips, "They got out. Like the rest of the guests." A weight settled in her heart; they were gone for good then. Off to do whatever it was that they wouldn't—or couldn't—share with her. She didn't know when she would see them next.
The evening, which had started out so jolly and light, had started out full of hope, was now sombre. And Meredith was so tired—she wanted this...cycle, to stop. The hope, the dismay, then the the fear. Her and Bill making it to the Burrow. George losing an ear. The Order losing Mad-Eye. Not knowing what Voldermort's next step was. The wedding. The death of the Minister. The wait as the Death Eaters destroyed the tent and advanced on them.
Over and over again.
She just wanted it to stop.
:::
( 𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐅𝐎𝐘, 𝟏𝟕 )
"Did you know?" He burst into the room, startling the older man who was looking down at a file, pacing the length of the bookshelf.
Randolph Darling looked up and shut the manila folder. He had taken up residence in Malfoy Manor, much to the displeasure of his parents, by the Dark Lord's request. In the months since Dumbledore's death, the Auror had quickly risen in the ranks and had gained the Dark Lord's trust—or the closest thing to trust that the he could feel— and was often sent on private covert missions at his request.
However, more than anything, Draco knew that his presence of the Manor was to mock his father. Because Randolph Darling was everything that Lucius Malfoy could've been as Voldermort's right hand man. Because while still a pure blood, Randolph Darling was trusted by the masses and the Order sympathisers in the Ministry; he seemed like the upstanding citizen, the hero, fighting for the good guys but was more vicious and cunning than the whole lot of them. The Darling name was now powerful. The Malfoy name was now not.
"Is this about the Minister? Because I think it has always been implied that he had to die at some point and replaced with someone under his control."
They don't really say his name anymore. There's no need to. Everything—all the fighting, all the killing, all the plotting—it's all for him, and his great plan. Whatever the hell that was supposed to be.
"No," He venomously spat out in response. Draco wasn't sure where all the anger and hate was coming from in this moment. "That the wedding was going to be attacked. She was at the wedding."
Randolph took a moment to rearrange his face into a mask of cool composure (sometimes it scared Draco how similar Meredith acted when put under stress) before answering, "No. I did not."
"How could you send her there?" Draco frowned, shutting the door behind him. There was almost no reason to; nobody but his parents were in the Manor (he stopped calling it home) and these days, they spent it shut up in their room when not pulled into a meeting with the other Death Eaters where they would either sit quietly or be the brunt of the Dark Lord's cruelty once again. For his failure.
"I thought that she would be safest with the Weasleys." The Auror answered plainly, "The Order is the safest place for her to be. They would die protecting her."
He said it as if it was a fact. As if it was something that he expected to happen.
He did say that it was all for her. Everything he did was to protect her.
"I just..." Draco faltered, "I overheard it from my parents and I thought..."
"I would tell you, you know." Randolph answered quietly, "If anything were to happen to her. I know how she feels about you. And you about her."
Draco revelled in the tiny comfort that assurance brought him. That he would at least know. That he wouldn't have to find out from Bellatrix who still held a grudge against Meredith from their confrontation at the Department of Mysteries. That she wouldn't just be another meaningless death if something were to happen to her.
Because, Draco was quite certain about this fact, that if anything were to happen to her...they'd not only have taken her but a part of him as well.
And if anything were to happen to her, he'd make a deal with the devil to trade whatever was left of his soul for her life.
i've actually drafted out an epilogue already at the point of writing this chapter so don't worry, i will power through and finish this for you guys <3
i know there's like a two month gap between this and the new term but there's a lot that happens in the deathly hallows so i might skip ahead a bit.