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Closing his eyes, he focused on his breathing. It was coming in steady waves in through his nose, out through his mouth. He could literally taste the over priced perfume as it worked its way over his palate, he could feel it slither down his throat, congesting at his core. It was a simply reminder of how much his perspective had changed. He had once thought the aroma was sweet and fruity; something nice that lingered in the air. It now filled his nose like acid burning it's way through his body, coiling around his organs like a snake, injecting its venom within his system.

The black stillness surrounding his vision beneath his eyelids shifted, swift shades of green and blue swimming together in a sea of color. He watched as they started to take a form, slowing building an image. His brow creased, and his breathing quickened as he willed the scene to appear faster.

The faint outline of a church quickly snapped into focus and he saw the landscape as though he stood directly in front of it. The discolored bricks created a patchwork of textures cris-crossing in a distinct pattern. The grass swayed to a song that only nature could hear, a few neighboring tress dancing along, their branches moving in the wind. The sun beat down on his eyes but for once he did not scowl in annoyance. Instead the corner of his mouth curved up; for some reason this place felt like...

With a start, he came back to the cold chill of his house. His eyes meeting with the boy's once again, 'there is a story I must tell you, for if you had known it sooner maybe you would not be standing here now alone,' he whispered.

Waiting for no response, he delved back within his memories.

~ 11.45am - Saturday ~

The church was still, nothing but the wind against the pane glass windows and the distant sound of laughter disturbed the tranquillity that surrounded the building. Rows of chairs sat vacant, waiting for an occupant to fill them.

A large china clock sat deserted on a lone table, its hands ticking silently around its worn and faded face. With a sharp jerk the little hand-shifted positions, landing on the dusty numeral, declaring the time as eleven forty-five. A few seconds later, a sharp crack resonated throughout the church and in the entrance where it had once been empty, now stood a man. Solemn in expression, he visibly steadied himself, before sweeping a hand across the front of his black tux. His eyes looked pained but whatever he was feeling, it did not deter him from whatever errand he was here for. He took five long strides, his fingers twirling a silver plated ring in-between them, in a moment's distraction the ring clattered to the floor and disappeared.

The man heaved a sigh, and got to his knees. Crawling among the rows his hands out in front of him searching. Finally his fingers clasped around the metal sphere. Just as he was about to push himself off the floor, he stilled. The church doors opening, and far-off talking filled his ears. He heard the wind increase in force, the large wooden doors banging on their hinges, the glass windows rattling with the pressure of the outside gale. The remote voices quieted, then several words were muttered into the air. The door and windows ceased their protests against the weather, and footsteps drew closer to his position, allowing him to finally make out the conversation.

"I don't know why it should take so long, I mean I could do it myself if I wasn't worried about damaging the stones," a feminine voice complained, her tone rising and falling with her clear frustration.

A rustle of clothing was all that came in reply. The man could only conclude that her companion had shrugged or extended an arm for comfort.

"Seriously, it's not like it was so large it fell of my finger or anything. A couple of flicks should have done the trick. But no it takes a couple of hours to-," the female continue, this time interrupted by a male voice.

"Ginny it's okay, you will have it back," came the man's reply.

There was no mistaking who the voice belonged to, so again preparing to stand he pushed his arms against the floor for leverage. Turning to face the two voices, his eyes connected with green orbs, whose initial look of shock turned to one of distaste and hatred. The two shared a moment of silent staring, thoughts and feelings of a past history flying between the men. It was the female's gentle hand on the arm of her companion that broke the mêlée. Opening his mouth he was just about to spit out a repugnant comment at the two when he heard a loud crash come from one of the outlying quarters of the church. Glancing up, it was obvious he was not the only one to have heard it. No body else was here that he knew of, but the wind was still whistling outside the church walls, a window may have been left open, he thought. He was about to ignore it, when he felt a slight vibration beneath his feet. His eyes had not left the others, and the shock registered on their faces also. The tremor had died as soon as they had been detected it, but there was something in his bones that told him not to relax. The saying 'be careful what you wish for' passed through his head, as he watched as a surge of magic - before him - moved with such force through the opposing wall, that it appeared as though a barrage was coming directly at him. There was nowhere to go; nowhere to escape, it surrounded the entire church floor to ceiling. There was nothing he could do but brace for the impact and hope for the best…

~ 12.04pm - Saturday ~

It was the dull ache in his head that brought him back to consciousness. The cool stone underneath him soothed his skin. He rejected the idea of opening his eyes, the darkness that engulfed him was peaceful, it sent a wave of calm over him. His body felt heavy, his bones gaining weight with every moment that passed. The exertion to move them was soon becoming too much and he decided he would lie there until someone picked him up and placed him in his grave. With that decision made, he let his breathing become regular, easing him into sleep.

~ 12.20pm - Saturday ~

A far-away noise startled him enough for him to open his eyes. The harsh glare of the sun broke between his eyelids and he regretted the impulse immediately. The sound of clothes rustling rang in his eyes like church bells, loud and unnecessary. Turning onto his back, he stared at the high ceiling, picking patterns to trace with his eyes, for some reason he just didn't want to get up. For reason he knew that if he did he would have to confront whatever was going on around him, that would require thinking and he just didn't want to. Hidden by the large rows of chairs, he was alone, silently listening to whomever was making the insistent racket near-by. It sounded like they were deliberately trying to walk into every piece of furniture the building held.

He hadn't realized that his feet were sticking out of the rows of chairs, until he felt a sharp pain shot up his leg and then someone swear as they feel to the hard stone floor. A scurry of feet and then three pairs of eyes were staring down at him. He wanted to shut his eyes and block them out, but he didn't he just stared back. He could make out a pair of bright green eyes through wiry frames; they belonged to the only male to be looking down on him. The man had black unruly hair, a slime build, and a tall stature. The next pair of eyes gazing at him where a mixture of baby blue and mid-night sky, they held a certain scrutiny when looking upon on him that he found disconcerting. The woman had a high cheekbones, and sun-bathed red hair, that sat around her face perfectly straight. For a woman she was tall, being only a few inches shorter than the male beside her. There was a defiance in her posture that warned him to be careful around her. Shifting his attention to the last pair of eyes, he found a sea of brown, beige and honey gold swirling together. Her face was filled with soft angles, and delicate skin, it was enclosed by gentle waves that ran down her shoulders, stopping just below her round curves. Those big brown eyes, glanced at him with a mild curiosity that amused him, but there was something else. Her brow was gathered, and her hands were wringing themselves. He continued watching her - watch him - and after a short time he realized she was evaluating him. Her eyes keep jerking up and down his long frame, always ending on his face before she started again. She was searching for something, something in him, but he had no idea what it was, he had never seen this woman before in his life.

Looking down his body, he saw that he was wearing an ink black tux. It appeared to be made of a very fine material, he thought, when it glided across his skin as he reached up to grab the top of the closest chair to pull himself up. It wasn't until he was standing that he noticed that the woman who had been staring at him attentively was wearing a long white gown. Peeking at the other two, he saw that they too had made the same connection. It was a wedding dress and while that would not normally provoke any sort of reaction from him – as being that they seemed to be in a church – he was the only male there wearing appropriate attire that matched being the groom.

A flash of orange hair drew his attention as a tall lanky sort of man came bounding up the aisle. His hair was identical to the defiant woman, they had to be related some how, he thought. No one had spoken since they had discovered him lying on the floor. But the new addition to their party seemed not to mind at all.

"So, do you know who you are?" he asked, a smile plastered on his face.

All eyes were on him then. Of cause he knew who he was. He was… He was Mr….

His eyes widen as he looked back on the other four, "I don't remember," was all he said, but from their reactions they seemed to be in the same predicament. The two girls slumped down into the nearest chair to them. The woman with wavy brown hair, hung her head in her hand, a deep sigh pulled throughout her body.

"None of us do," the dark haired man stated, "we just woke up here and nothing."

He nodded, "Do you guys remember how you got here or why you are here?" he asked.

Shakes of the head concurred with his own memory. Leaning against the chair he had used to stand, he shoved his hands into his pockets, he fingers touching something cold and round. Withdrawing his hand again, he held a silver-platinum ring, he tried to be discreet about his findings but a moment later an arm appeared over his shoulder. It was slender, so it could only have been one of the two girls. It was her left arm; her hand was in front of him, on the finger predominantly known for wearing engagement rings, and later on wedding rings, was a similar silver ring, only this one had a rather large diamond sitting on top. He didn't know if he was relived or shocked that there was no wedding band beside the engagement ring. He obviously had his wedding ring, so where was hers? Had he called it off?

Had she called it off?

Turning around, he narrowed his eyes at the girl. She seemed to have had the same thought as she was again looking at him with a calculating stare. Thoughts passed between the both of them, neither speaking, nor moving. The others must of felt the tension between them, as a strong hand suddenly rested on his shoulder.

"You were probably just holding it for safe keeping, before the wedding, you know how woman are they are always losing things," it was the dark haired man who spoke; his voice was calm and reassuring. He smiled a little in return, and turned back to his fiancé. She seemed less apprehensive then before, so he let his thoughts rest. He absently twirled the ring between his fingers, his thumb grazing the inside. He stopped when he felt something, looking down he saw an insignia engraved on the inner center of the ring, in tiny script.

It read 'To my dearest Draco - where there is a chance of great love, there are always small miracles to be found.'

By the end of the insignia, he had once again drawn the attention of the others. They were looking at him with confusion and interest at what he was doing, as he had raised the ring up right next to his eye to read the script. He thought it best to pass the ring to his 'fiancé' first. Even thinking the word made him inwardly cringe, it was nothing against the girl; she had a kind face and open eyes. She was pleasant to look at, even pretty he admitted, in an understated sort of way. But the thought of him getting married, sounded nonsensical in his mind. The girl's eyes made quick work around the ring, and then returned his gaze.

"Draco?" she whispered.

"Hmmm-," the dark haired man murmured taking a step closer to read it himself, "What kind of name is Draco?" he said aloud.

'Draco' was just about to retort with it not being his idea or choice, when his fiancé – he really ought to find out her name – spoke again.

"It's a constellation in the far northern sky, it means 'dragon' in Latin, if I remember correctly."

The red-haired man chuckled, "You don't remember your name or who you are but that you know."

Everyone seemed to still, and then it seemed all at once started to laugh along with him. It did seem quite absurd that she would know that, when her own name eluded her. After some time, it was the dark hair-man's turn to place his hands in his pockets and withdraw an object. It was a wallet. Everyone grew excited with anticipation, as he opened the wallet, ruffling it through he found a few dollar bills. It wasn't until he opened the second flip compartment that he stood motionless, just staring. The other woman seemed to grow tired and snatched the wallet, only to follow his previous action of standing motionless. Draco took a hesitant step forward and peered over the wallet, what he saw was a photograph of both the dark-haired man and the defiant woman hugging, drenched through as rain poured down on them. In the photograph they were beaming at each other, holding each other tightly against their body. The other woman hastily ripped the photo out of the wallet, chucking it back to its owner. She stared at it for a couple more minutes before turning it over.

"There's writing," she said before reading it aloud for everyone, "Dear Harry and Ginny, I found this while going through the photo's from out trip and thought you would love to have it for your new home. I will be sure to visit soon. Love Hermione."

"Does this look like me?" Harry asked, pulling out a driver's license for the others to look at. Everyone nodded. "My name is Harry Potter," he mumbled getting used to it on his tongue.

"Perfectly ordinary name, ain't it?" The redheaded man commented.

"Hmm," Harry looked up, "oh, yeah it is a bit, isn't it?"

No body answered his question; they just kept looking back and forth between the new couple before them. They stood kind of awkward next to each other, but quickly relaxed and gave each other a hug. Draco didn't understand how they could become so comfortable already, maybe it was because there was only reason to believe they where living together, they weren't about to get married. Though they didn't look to far off from the photograph that was still clasped firmly in Ginny's hand.

When the two pulled apart, Ginny looked at the back of the photo again, "So Ginny ey, that's not that bad right?"

"No, I like it," Harry said smiling, gaining him one in return.

"I wonder who 'Hermione' is, she must be friends with both of us if she came along on a trip with us," Ginny mused, "Maybe she's my sister."

"Or mine," Harry added.

"I wonder if I have any family out there," the redheaded man said, gesturing with his arms to the area around them.

Draco couldn't stop the smile that came upon him, and he was not the only one, his fiancé gave a quiet giggle, with Harry held no inner-ambitious and burst out laughing. Ginny, didn't understand what was so funny, so she glared angrily at all of them.

"What so funny?" the redhead man asked still smiling.

Harry tried to calm himself, pointing between Ginny and the man beside him. Draco just stood by and watched the spectacle unfold; his fiancé though was more affable and decide to let the two of them in the loop.

"There is no doubting that you have family, as you most definitely have a sister, the similarities are undisputable," she said, smiling gently at both them

"What do you mean?" Ginny asked.

Draco stepped forward this time, "You both have blinding red hair, your skin color is both pastel color with light freckles, and your air and mannerisms make it obvious that you two are siblings."

The two just looked at him, like he was some sort of idiot, then looked at each other. Ginny grabbed her supposed brother by the arm and dragged him away in search of a mirror, Harry following close behind. Draco snickered to himself, and then realized he had been left alone with his soon-to-be bride. After a while he decided he should ask her something to be polite, when Harry came running back, a small purse in his hand.

"We found a mirror in one of the back rooms, but we also found this, we opened to see who it belonged to and well, it's yours," he said handing it to the wide-eyed girl.

She quickly grabbed the purse and opened it, reading over all the plastic cards. When she had finished, she smiled at Harry and then at Draco, "my name is Hermione Granger," she said.

"So apparently not your sister," Draco stated.

"Yeah I guess not, only a good friend," Harry said, patting Hermione on the shoulder and started walking back the way he had come.

Hermione gazed around the church, a look of trepidation crossing her face. Her thoughts were clear and readable as they passed through her head, she knew who she was now, and all she had left to figure out was how and why she had forgotten in the first place. Draco contemplated on this a while, it was actually a good thought. So they stood there side-by-side, one in a white dress, one in a black tux, thinking over how they had forgotten the essentials of who they where and that now they were set to marry a complete stranger.