Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor am I attempting to make a profit. This is all for pure entertainment's sake! Hope you enjoy!

Author's Note: this is a sequel to both "Knight of the Death-Eaters" and "Mark of the Hunted." While it's not as necessary to read MotH before reading this, it is very crucial to read KotD, as the plot of this fic will intertwine with KotD's plot, and this is especially important in this chapter. So if you haven't read it yet, please do so (NOT a shameless plug, honest!!). Also, "Good Mother" explains the first part of this chapter. If you haven't read it yet, certain things may be confusing (or even surprising). Please read that too, before reading this...

And as always, please, please, please review!! Thanks :).

The Hands of Time
Chapter 1: A Special Delivery

His mother would have loved this.

It was the first thought that came to Ron as he looked around the room and took in the festive atmosphere: people laughing and dancing with drinks in hand, giddy children releasing pent-up energy by chasing each other here and about, and old friends--for whom it had been far, far too long between meetings--mingling and catching up with each other as infectious music poured out from the dance floor.

Ron knew this was a day to celebrate. Weddings were always joyous occasions, especially this one. It was the first among the Weasley grandchildren, a fact which Harry was not exactly eager to be reminded of, since it was his daughter who had just gotten married to her long-time sweetheart, Colm Finnigan (and as the ever-sadistic twins pointed out to Harry on several occasions today, Emily was a good four years younger than Bill's daughter, Audrey, the eldest grandchild).

Like everyone else who had gathered here for the special occasion, Ron was enjoying himself. He honestly was happy today--elated as a matter of fact. But as seemed to happen all too often over the past six years, just when he least expected it, he found himself thinking of his mother: imagining how her full-bodied laughter would be carrying over the music; how elegant she and his father would look as they whirled around on the dance floor, in time to their favorite waltz; or how her eyes would be glittering with tears as looked on the bride and groom.

She would have reveled in all of this, Ron thought. She would have immersed herself in the pure delight of the moment--and probably would have been the life of the party herself. He just knew it.

He felt a slight squeeze on his arm, and he turned beside him to his wife, who had leaned into him, an amused smile on her face.

"Look at Harry over there," she whispered, nodding towards the main banquet table. "I can't tell whether he's about to laugh or burst into tears."

"Probably both," Ron said.

Hermione met his gaze and laughed.

"I'm serious," he said. "His daughter just got married. Can you imagine what it'll be like when one of the girls gets married?"

Hermione reacted swiftly with a swat to his arm, which Ron was only half-expecting. His reflexes had been dulled slightly by a few glasses of Muggle champagne (which Lavender Finnigan, who had apparently acquired a taste for it at her own wedding twenty-five years ago, insisted on having on hand for her son's wedding).

"Bite your tongue!" Hermione exclaimed, as he rubbed at the sore spot on his arm. For a such a small woman, she certainly packed a quite a punch. He always did seem to forget that, even after thirty-four years of knowing her. "Honestly, it's not something to joke about..."

Ron said nothing, though he couldn't resist a smile. He knew the subject of their children growing up was an especially sensitive one for Hermione, and at times, it was just too tempting to try and get under her skin about it, particularly when it was so easy to do so.

"Besides, we've got a few more years before that happens, I would imagine..."

"Well anyway," he said, "you know what I mean, then. Reckon I can't blame Harry for feeling sad on some level. Not to mention, just look at who his in-laws are going to be..."

He looked towards the main banquet table, where Lavender was busy fussing over Emily's headdress, much to Ginny's very obvious annoyance. Seamus was watching his wife with great interest, but wasn't doing much to hold her back--presumably because he'd no doubt learnt over the years that it would wise to just let her do her own thing and not interfere.

"Talk about your basic nightmare," Ron muttered, watching the scene with equal parts horror and amusement.

Hermione chuckled beside him. "Thank God they've only got one child, then," she said. "Though that's not going to be much of a consolation for Harry and Ginny, is it?"

People didn't give her nearly enough credit for it, but his wife could have a pretty biting sense of humor when she chose to use it (and contrary to popular belief, it wasn't even his bad influence; she'd had this wit ever since he first met her). Ron tried to stifle a laugh, but succeeded only in releasing an odd sound that was halfway between a snort and a choking noise, which unfortunately was noticeable enough to draw people's attention. He tried his best to keep a straight face, but that was really Hermione's forte, not his.

The lively music that had been playing all this time began to slow to a graceful ballad, and suddenly, Ron felt a poke at his back.

"Hey, Dad..."

It was Jack. He had a peculiar smile on his face and his eyes were twinkling, as if he were privy to some secret joke that Ron obviously was not in on. Straight away, a red flag went up in his head as he waited for his son to say something.

"Enjoying the reception?"

"Oh yes," Jack said. "Immensely. Em always did know how to throw a party, didn't she?"

"Mm hmm."

Jack's smile grew even wider. "So, I've been sent to deliver a message to you."

Somehow the words came as no shock to Ron. He had a feeling he knew exactly who sent the message--and what kind of message it would be, at that. But he reckoned it couldn't hurt to play this guessing game, so he decided to take the bait anyway.

"Have you?"

"Yup," Jack nodded. He cleared his throat, obviously to fend off a laugh that Ron could tell was threatening to burst forth at any moment. "Uncle George had told me to inform you that he's formally issued a challenge."

Gee, how did he know that one of the twins' names was bound to come up at some point in this conversation? He turned beside him to Hermione, who clearly had had the same thought just run through her mind. It seemed she herself was quite curious about what this challenge consisted of.

"This should be good for a laugh," Ron muttered, earning him one of her brilliant smiles. "All right then, Jack, let's hear it."

"He wants to bet you five Galleons that he and Aunt Susie are better dancers than you and Mum."

Ron almost made the half-choking/half-snorting sound again.

"What?" he sputtered.

He looked over Jack's shoulder and saw George grinning madly, giving him a little wave, then whispering something in his wife's ear. Oh, this was war.

"All right, now don't kill the messenger, Dad," Jack said, holding up his hands. "I'm just telling you what he told me to tell you."

But nevertheless, he looked suspiciously as if he was enjoying this a little too much.

"Right then, I've done my duty, so I'm off," he said, then shuffled off in search of Leatrice, his girlfriend, and they made their way to the dance floor.

Ron caught George's eye once again. Now he was winking (was he that immature??), and Ron had had enough. Taking Hermione's hand, he tugged at her gently.

"Okay, love," he said, "I know I don't ask you for a lot of things-"

Hermione gave him a look.

"All right, all right, so I do ask you for a lot of things, but could you just indulge me one more time?" He glared at George. "Five galleons on the line, love. No way am I going to just hand 'em over to him."

To his relief, she laughed (which he knew from experience was a good sign), then she stood on her toes and whispered in his ear, "Let's go show them how it's done."

Ron smiled and led her to the dance floor, where he made sure to nudge George on the shoulder on their way to a spot that hadn't yet been claimed by any of the couples. George just rolled his eyes and whispered something to Susie. Ron was about to say something, when he spotted Harry and Ginny coming up beside him and Hermione. Harry was looking downright morose now, his eyes on the bride and groom, who were dancing in the center.

"Hey, mate, you might want to smile from time to time," he said. "Don't want to scare the guests, do you?"

Well at least that got a hint of a grin from Harry--however slight it might have been. Ginny must have noticed it too, because she smiled and leaned over to kiss him.

"That's a start," she said. "But how about a little bigger one?"

"Okay, you two, I get the hint," Harry said at last, letting out a little laugh.

"Thank heaven," Hermione said. "I was beginning to wonder if you were ever going to show some signs of life again tonight."

"Very funny," Harry said.

He and Ron both twirled their wives at the same time.

"I'm fine, there's no need to fuss over me."

"Hmm..."

"Really."

"All right, whatever you say."

"I am perfectly happy today, contrary to popular belief," he said. "I guess I had just forgotten how much putting a wedding together takes out of someone."

"You do look a bit tired, mate," Ron observed.

Harry shrugged off his concern. "It's been a long day. But I'll be fine, now stop harassing me, you two, and just go enjoy yourselves, will you?"

Ron laughed. "Is that an order, then?"

"Yes, consider it an order from the father of the bride," Harry said, then he gestured towards George. "Looks like someone's trying to show you up there, Ron."

Ron scowled. George had managed to clear a few feet of space around him and Susie so that they could show off a bit of fancier footwork; they were in the midst of an intricate series of twirls and dips that were starting to garner some applause from the rest of the guests.

Apparently, someone wanted to win this bet pretty badly.

Hermione was giggling beside him. Ron was about to give her a disapproving look, when he felt something tap him on the leg. Curious, he looked down to see what it was, then nearly stumbled over in surprise when he saw a goblin standing right beside him.

"Mr. Ronald Weasley?" he said.

Ron exchanged bewildered looks with Hermione.

"Er... yes, I'm Ronald Weasley."

Nobody but he and Hermione seemed to have noticed a goblin was in their midst; everyone else was too engrossed in the show George and Susie were putting on in the middle of the dance floor. Ron led Hermione and the goblin back to the tables, where they could get some privacy.

"I have a delivery for a Mr. Ronald Weasley."

Ron saw that the goblin was carrying something in his hand. It looked like an envelope, but he couldn't be sure; whatever it was, it was made of paper that was brown and stained, and the writing on it looked smeared.

"All right," Ron said reluctantly. He waited for the goblin to hand him the item.

"Special delivery for Mr. Ronald Weasley."

Ron was starting to get annoyed hearing his name said over and over, but said nothing as he took the item from the goblin. It was a letter. The ink had long since faded, but he could still make out his name, written neatly across the envelope, which looked yellow with age.

He laughed. "Bit late in delivering this, aren't you?" he quipped.

The goblin blinked back, obviously missing the punchline.

"I was simply told to deliver it to a Mr. Ronald Weasley," he said in a monotone.

Ron decided joking with him would be completely useless, and instead looked down again at the envelope. Why did it look so old? And who in the world would be sending a goblin to give him a letter in the middle of a wedding reception? He turned the envelope over, to look at the return address, then his blood went cold when he saw the name.

Severus Snape.

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