Bryan stood before the house that belonged to Tonks's parents, the house that would also be home to Remus and Tonks, and took it in.
It was an old stone cottage, comfortably lopsided, with small square windows and a roofline that dipped here and rose there, as though the house had settled into the earth the way an old dog settles by a fire.
Most of the plants in the garden to the right of the house had withered with the season, their stems gone brown and brittle, bowing under the weight of the evening dew.
Only a few untrimmed flutterby bushes stayed as green as ever, their leaves fluttering gently though there was no wind, as if they were breathing on their own.
The shed to the right of the house was presumably where Tonks's Muggle-born father, Ted Tonks, kept his farm machinery; through a gap in its sliding door Bryan could make out the dull gleam of some rusted machine.
The broom shed was housed in there as well, tucked in beside it, a small wooden lean-to with a brass padlock that looked a good deal newer than everything around it.
Remus and Tonks had everything ready.
On the broad open ground in front of the house, an enormous white tent with tasselled lace trim had been put up, its canvas glowing faintly from the lamps lit within, like a great pale lantern set down in the field.
Beside each metal pole that held the tent up stood a lovely basket of flowers, white and gold and the palest lavender, and the poles themselves were wound round and round with gold and white blooms, so that not an inch of bare metal showed.
Inside the tent, a long purple carpet ran all the way to the door of the house, soft and rich in colour even by lamplight and on the backs of the rows of golden chairs the seating chart had already been fixed in place.
Bryan walked past the tent, with its strings of golden balloons tied overhead, bobbing gently though the night was still, and slowly approached the house.
From the old house, bathed in bright light that spilled warm and yellow across the garden path, came the sound of ringing laughter, several voices were rising and tumbling over one another.
A smile appeared on Bryan's lips too. He walked up and knocked at the door.
Knock, knock, knock—
The laughter inside stopped instantly, as though someone had thrown a switch.
Bryan heard flustered footsteps, the scrape of someone spinning round too fast, and the crash of an overturned chair, and then, through the thin old door, he could feel at least seven or eight wands pointed at him, their owners' magic humming tense and ready on the other side.
"Who is it!"
Even through the door, Bryan could feel Remus's do-or-die resolve in the sharpness of that challenge, and it greatly amused him.
"It's certainly not Voldemort—"
Bryan said slowly.
"He wouldn't knock when he came calling."
After several seconds of silence, hurried footsteps sounded behind the door, taking the last few steps at a run. Then it was flung open, and Remus's delighted, astonished face appeared in the gap, his sandy hair was rumpled as though someone had been fussing with it only moments before.
"Bryan!"
All it took was the strange ripple that always stirred in his heart when he looked into Bryan's eyes, and Remus knew immediately that this was no impostor, and besides, Bryan was still clutching the note Remus had written in his own hand!
"I never expected you to come early, Bryan!"
Remus threw the door wide open and hugged him, one arm firm around his shoulders, the smile spread across his face making him look years younger.
"The guests haven't even arrived yet. I thought you'd come with Sirius and Alastor. I mean—the preparatory meeting of the International Confederation of Wizards, they're in charge of guarding Minister Bones—"
"Vipor will take care of everything—"
Bryan said with a chuckle, stepping back to let Remus look him over properly.
"This is, after all, the first wedding I've ever attended. I thought I ought to take it seriously, so I came early—"
Remus laughed, clapped him once on the shoulder, and led Bryan into the house.
Remus had said the guests hadn't arrived, but there were plenty of people inside.
The front room, low-ceilinged and warm, had been cleared of its usual furniture and filled instead with a cheerful, chattering crowd.
Besides Tonks and her parents, Amelia was there, perched on the arm of a sofa with her ankles neatly crossed.
His aunt, who was a few years younger than he was, wore a pale celadon off-the-shoulder dress with a sheer silk overlay that caught the lamplight whenever she moved, and heels flecked with tiny crystals that winked like scattered dew.
As striking as he was himself, she seemed to be there as a bridesmaid, and she was one of the two most eye-catching girls in the house.
The other was Fleur Delacour.
When his gaze fell on Fleur, Bryan was dazed for an instant.
Fleur's stunning beauty went without saying; her pale, silvery hair and the faint, effortless glow about her had turned heads in every room she had ever entered.
What startled Bryan was what she was wearing.
It was a lovely white silk dress, its fine tailoring speaking of elegance, nobility and purity, and this dress was the very one Fleur had worn at last year's Christmas ball.
The moment their eyes met, Bryan keenly caught the flash of a sly smile in Fleur's blue eyes and the hint of triumph curling at the corner of her lips.
She had seen the flicker of astonishment he'd let slip, too.
Both of them knew that Bryan was the one who had bought this gown.
So then—
Percy and his girlfriend Clearwater were there as well, Percy standing very straight with his hands clasped behind his back as though at a Ministry function, and then Mrs. Weasley, bustling between the guests with a tray balanced on one arm, and Bill Weasley, hands tucked into his trouser pockets, his long hair tied back, looking utterly carefree, leaning against the doorframe slouchly.
But Charlie wasn't there; he must still have been in Romania studying dragons, unable to get back in time, and his absence left a small gap among the red-headed Weasleys gathered by the window.
Last of all, Bryan looked at tomorrow's bride: Tonks, with whom he'd had a certain closeness since his years at Hogwarts.
Having given herself a vivid bubblegum-pink head of hair for the occasion, Tonks was nonetheless the plainest dressed of all the girls in the room.
She had on only a loose wool sweater in Maillard browns, its sleeves pushed up to her elbows, and a pair of casual jeans with one knee gone soft and pale from wear. But no one could overlook the happy smile on her face, wide and a little lopsided.
Everyone showed delighted surprise at Bryan's appearance. Percy looked as though he meant to rush over and hug him too, already halfway out of his chair, but Penelope caught his sleeve and held him back with a quiet word.
"Have I interrupted something?"
Bryan asked with a chuckle, glancing round at the overturned chair still lying on its side near the window.
"We're rehearsing for tomorrow's wedding."
Remus ran a hand over his hair, looking a little sheepish and helpless, and righted the fallen chair with his foot as he spoke.
"But I've never been able to persuade Tonks into a wedding dress—"
"Oh, that's not my style, Remus."
Tonks tilted her head, her smile full of mischief, her pink fringe falling rakishly over one eye. She winked at Bryan, then suddenly clapped her hands together.
"Oh, you've come at just the right time, Bryan—our rehearsal is missing a best man!"
Remus froze for two seconds, blinking, and then brightened all at once, as though a lamp had been lit behind his eyes.
"That's it, exactly!"
He turned, delighted, to Bryan, who had knitted his brows the moment he saw which way this was heading.
"Maybe you should take on a bit of your godfather duty ahead of time, Bryan!"
"What a good idea!"
Everyone in the room seemed to reach agreement all at once, voices began rising together in a ragged little cheer.
Amelia trotted over on her crystal heels and, without a word, seized Bryan's arm, something she would never have had the nerve to do before this.
However hard he tried to put on a stern, dignified face, Amelia and Tonks pushed him into the bedroom all the same, one at each elbow, laughing at his half-hearted resistance the whole way.
"I think you should back me up here, don't you, Bryan?"
Tonks said with a grin, propping one shoulder against the doorframe as the door swung half shut behind them.
"After all, I once served detention with you, under Severus!"
Bryan fought down the urge to roll his eyes and pressed his lips together.
"Mum and Dad keep asking whether you have a girlfriend, Bryan—"
Amelia said, already rummaging through the robes draped over a chair back.
"I could ask Fleur to take a photo with you and send it to them. They'd be thrilled to see it!"
"So, you and Fleur have become good friends now?"
Bryan shook his head with a gentle smile, refusing to be drawn further, then drew his wand and pointed it at his coat.
A ripple of silver light spread out from the tip, and the navy dress robes that had been folded away in his suitcase settled over him.
"Didn't I write and tell you?"
Amelia feigned surprise, eyes wide and one hand pressed to her chest in mock astonishment, then was the first to burst out laughing at her own performance.
She turned to Tonks, already moving on to the next item of business.
"We'll have to do something about his hair, Tonks."
So, Tonks sat Bryan down before the dressing-table mirror and the two girls set to work, teasing his naturally grey hair this way and that, combing and tugging until every strand stood on end, bickering cheerfully over the mirror's reflection the whole time.
But judging by the result, it wasn't bad at all.
"I heard Remus sent you to Asia?"
When Bryan had, quite gracefully, lifted his arm for Fleur to take, now that his robes and his hair had both been pronounced acceptable, the ever-uninhibited Fleur turned a little shy.
She didn't toss her hair back in her usual "bold" way; instead, she pinched her fingers together and delicately tucked a few strands, shining under the lights, back from her temple, and nodded.
"Remus sent me over there to open up new markets—"
"What's it like?"
Bryan's interest was piqued, and he asked, curious, turning his head slightly toward her as they fell into step for the rehearsal walk.
"Oh, how to put it… The magical world over there is more conservative than even many European countries here, but the Muggle world is very lively—"
Fleur twirled a strand of silvery hair around one finger, thinking, her blue eyes drifted up toward the low ceiling as she searched for the words.
"Generally speaking, the girls over there are shyer… I was thinking, maybe you'd like that kind of style, like that Cliodna?"
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