Everyone made it back OK except for Mad-Eye and Mundungus Fletcher. Mad-Eye was dead and Mundungus...they didn't know where he got off to. Only that the night they were retrieving Harry, Mundungus had Disapparated right before Mad-Eye was hit with a curse from Voldemort himself. 

Emma and Harry's birthdays were nearing, as well as Bill and Fleur's wedding. Some days later, they were on the topic of discussing Emma and Harry's disguise for the wedding. Harry had it worse. They could not disguise him with things such as hair-dye and eye contacts, but with Emma they could. She would be wearing brown eye contacts, while Harry's disguise remained uncertain for the next two days. 

"I'm so excited, I've never been to a wedding before," Emma was saying as she washed dishes for Mrs Weasley. Harry and Ron, who managed to get together and talk at the kitchen table, gave her a look. "Other than my...parents' wedding, of course, who got married twice...but I've only been to the second one. I'd do anything to go back to it."

Harry and Ron stopped talking for the next few minutes after Emma's words, but it was getting better for her, much easier speaking about her parents. It was harder talking about a woman who had taken her in as a baby than her real parents. But to think that three people had died for her did not exactly ease a thing. And she still had no idea where her Dad had gone off to...he had barely been around...but she hoped he would return for her seventeenth birthday along with some good news. 

Emma suddenly felt the urge to bring up whatever Harry, Ron and Hermione had been discussing for the past few days, but she wouldn't get anywhere and she knew it. Ron and Hermione wouldn't even tell their own parents or any members of the order. She was glad not to have been returning to Hogwarts, but then again it might have been a bad idea not to return. Professor McGonagall would be in charge of the school, wouldn't she? Hogwarts would be safer than staying at The Burrow. 

She had no idea what dress she would be wearing for the wedding, but she was sure Ginny had something hiding in the back of her wardrobe. Quite frankly, Emma wasn't too worried about what she wore to it. 

"This won't look too bad," said Ginny, pulling something out of a dusty box with a faded label. It looked ancient and terrible, and reminded Emma of something people wore two hundred years ago. "I think it'll go lovely with those soon-to-be brown eyes."

Emma retreated slightly. 

"Er - didn't Ron wear that to the Yule Ball three years ago?" Hermione frowned, scrunching up her nose as she reached out to touch the clothing. "Yes, these are his dress robes."

"I was kidding," Ginny rolled her eyes slightly. She looked at Emma and said, "Unless you have something different in mind?"

"I'll pass," she replied, staring horrifically at the ancient, smelly dress robes. She looked hopelessly at Hermione as Ginny dug through more of the old boxes. "I'm sure Hermione'll be able to help me out though," she added pointedly. 

The Delacours showed up the next day before lunch, and Fleur's family looked just as flawless as she did. Her eleven-year-old sister followed her around everywhere she went, and because the Weasleys, Hermione, Harry, Emma, plus the Delacour family were all bunched together in the Burrow, it was awfully squishy. 

Mrs Weasley kept telling Emma the story of Harry saving both Ron and Gabrielle Delacour during the Triwizard Tournament every time the eleven-year-old came into view, as though Emma had not read the papers some years ago. Hearing it all again made Emma think about her Mum, the image of the two sitting together, excited, huddled over the newspaper that held words of detail of the Triwizard Tournament. It seemed every little thing reminded of her mother and it would never stop. Before Emma could show her sadness, she smiled at Mrs Weasley and excused herself. 

But Mrs Weasley wasn't letting her go anywhere.

"Emma, dear," she said quickly, causing the girl to purse her lips and turn around. "Have I said something to upset you?"

"Oh - no, no...not at all," Emma assured the older woman. "I just...miss my parents, that's all. And not knowing where my Dad has gone off to...I've been wondering how I'll hold myself together if he doesn't come tomorrow."

Mrs Weasley put her wet dishwasher on the sink and pulled Emma into a hug. It felt very motherly, and, once again, she was reminded of her own mother. 

The older woman pulled back with a smile and said, "He'll come."

And he'd better. Because tonight Emma would go to sleep, and tomorrow she would wake being seventeen. 

___

A/N: Sorry for short chapter, and a massive delay, but everything's piling up on me and it's making me really stressed :( 

I give up on school, guys. Honestly. I just want to quit and use Wattpad for a living.