Hermione awoke with a jolt. Sun was streaming though the slit in the bedroom curtains, casting its golden rays on a large poster of Ron’s favorite Quiddich team, the ChudleyCannons, in all their orange glory. She could see small particles of dust floating though the air, casting a soft haze over the room and reminding her how much she loved being back at the Burrow, however dusty it may be. Rolling over, she swung her arm across the bed and smacked it onto the black clock on the bedside table, causing the tiny screen to illuminate so she could see the time.

“Oh for Merlins sake!” Hermione shrieked as she turned around sharply and hit the large snoring lump next to her, making it grunt and roll over.

“Ron! Oh Ron, please get up!”

Although her frantic shaking and yelling was probably meant to wake Ron up, it did nothing of the sort. He merely reached his arms out just as she hit him for the third time and, grabbing her around the waist, pulled her back down on the bed. He then began kissing every exposed piece of her flesh he could find, which, owing to the lacy nightdress she had slept in last night, was a lot. Smiling in spite of herself, Hermione fell in a giggling heap on the bed and allowed Ron to kiss her before remembering why this wasn’t a good time. Leaping up, she started running around the room pulling on jeans and a top, and attempting to wrestle her hair into what she hoped looked like a somewhat neat ponytail.

“Whoa!” said Ron, looking baffled. “Where’s the fire?”

“Do you not remember what today is?” Hermione looked very disapproving and gave Ron a look that would put even Mrs.Weasley to shame, her eyebrows arched and her hands on her hips.

“Of course I do,” Ron responded, looking indignant. “It’s Saturday.”

“Yes…” Hermione said, nodding in an incredibly patronizing fashion. “It is Saturday, the very Saturday that your sister- do you remember her? Your sister and out best friend Harry are getting married!” Her voice had been getting progressively louder and more shrill as she spoke, and peaked at the last few words.

“And,” she continued, “You were meant to meet Harry in Diagon Alley to pick up his tux TEN MINUTES AGO!” She was yelling by this time, and her face was red and creased from the effort, with her breath coming out in great gasps.

Ron’s face went from confused to apprehensive, before finally setting on a look of complete panic. He tried frantically to remember what time Harry had told him to meet him, but failed.

“You’re kidding! Darn, Harry is going to kill me!” By this time, he had joined Hermione in the dressing race; throwing on clothes as fast as he could, and not even noticing that he had put his t-shirt on backwards and inside out. His heart was pounding and beads of sweat were forming on his forehead. Never in the eight years Ron had known Harry had he ever let him down this badly. Well, not this badly.



Scrabbling with his wand and grabbing his wallet, Ron gave one sharp twist on the spot and with a crack, Disapparated off to meet Harry.

*****

Meanwhile, on the floor below Ron’s bedroom, Ginny was sitting at her dressing table looking distressed. This was meant to be the happiest day of my life, she thought. I’m marrying Harry Potter, for goodness sake! So why did she feel like a ton of bricks had decided to take up residence in both her head and in the pit of her stomach? Glancing over to the wall opposite, her eyes flitted over a pale pink garment bag. That very bag contained the most exquisite ivory strapless dress made of satin and lace, with pearls encrusted around the bodice. The very one she had picked out herself just a mere two weeks earlier. Why, Ginny fretted, Could she not convince her brain what she knew her heart was clearly feeling? She loved Harry so much, and yet she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

Before Ginny had time to work out what it was that was bothering her, Mrs. Weasley bustled into the room looking pink and flustered, Her hair tumbling around all around her face in messy red waves, She had in her arms a clear plastic box overflowing with hair products, make up, and if Ginny wasn’t mistaken, some hair straighteners. If Ginny hadn’t been so preoccupied, she would have noticed how odd it was that Mrs. Weasley would use a Muggle contraption, seeing as she was so against them, and that Ginny’s hair also was already incredibly straight. However, this thought didn’t even cross her mind.

As if the room wasn’t already full enough, with Ginny still feeling quite fragile and getting more claustrophobic by the second, Hermione waltzed in, looking as if she might burst from happiness, with her pale blue bridesmaids dress flung over her shoulder. Rushing over to Ginny, she engulfed her in the biggest hug imaginable, and started babbling at three hundred miles an hour.

“Oh Ginny, I am so happy for both of you, and this is going to be the best day of your life! You and Harry are perfect for each other, and your dress is so beautiful! “

Without warning, Ginny burst into uncontrollable sobs and ran off into the bathroom with her red hair flying behind her as she slammed the door with a crash, leaving Hermione looking very alarmed. Motioning for Hermione to stay where she was, Mrs. Weasley hastened into the bathroom after Ginny, leaving Hermione standing very still in the bedroom, and looking concerned.

Mrs. Weasley found Ginny sitting on the stone floor under the sink clutching a damp tissue. Tears were running down her face, leaving wet tracks across her cheeks and red rings around her eyes. Crouching down next to her daughter, Mrs. Weasley patted her arm reassuringly. Ginny hugged her mother back in return.

“I feel so stupid crying on what’s meant to be the happiest day of my life,” she sobbed, a new wave of tears overflowing onto her gray top.

“Oh darling, don’t cry. Did I ever tell you that on Bill and Fleur’s wedding day, I sat in my bathroom for about half an hour with Fleur as she cried onto my shoulder? And guess what the reason was? She was second-guessing, just like you are my lovely, and look what’s happened now. She is happily married to your darling brother, and they have a beautiful baby boy. And do you know what? As soon as you take one step down that aisle, you will realise how lucky you are, and all of your nerves will fly away.”

“You really think so Mum?”

“I know so sweetheart, I’m your mother. Trust me.”

Ginny was looking up at her mother, her eyes full of hope. She wanted so badly to believe everything her she had just been told, and yet as hard as she tried, she couldn’t imagine Fleur crying into anyone’s shoulder, let alone her mother’s. Nevertheless, she didn’t want her mum to worry, and with immense effort, Ginny plastered a big toothy smile on her face and gave her mother another hug. After hugging her youngest child back, Mrs. Weasley swept out of the room as abruptly as she had entered, her arms now empty and the box of beauty products now on Ginny’s polished wooden dressing table.

*****

As Harry had predicted, the sun was beating down on Diagon Ally and it was steaming hot. Wondering where Ron was and starting to get a little pissed off, Harry peered into the window of the nearest shop, which happened to be the very shop where he bought Ginny their first anniversary present: the heart-shaped necklace she always wore. Rubies, to represent Gryffindor the house they had been at school and the place they had first met.

Then there was a crack and Ron crashed to the ground in a very ungainly fashion.

“Smooth,” laughed Harry. Forgiving his friend instantly when he saw how frantic he looked, Harry had been wondering why he had only just gotten out of bed and contemplating asking, but decided against it. He could guess why Ron had only just gotten up, and didn’t really want to know about it on the morning of his wedding day.

The two wandered along down the street together for a while in a companionable silence, both musing over various things, until they reached the door of the tuxedo shop. Walking in, Harry was suddenly hit with the realization of what he was doing. It was not in a bad way- he didn’t even for a moment second guess himself, and he knew marrying Ginny was the right thing; he loved her, and had no doubt that she loved him just as much.

“Here you are Mr. Potter, this is the tuxedo you tried on last week,” came from the shop assistant, who appeared to have materialized out of thin air. She was looking at Harry expectantly, forcing him to snap out of his daydream and give her his full attention.

“Yes it is, thanks. It looks good- can I try it on one more time, you know, because of the alterations?”

“Of course, Mr. Potter. If you would like to go into the changing room,” said the shop assistant, as she directed Harry to a plum-coloured curtain hanging on the back wall. Sure enough, when pulled back it showed a spacious changing room with a small chair and some hooks in the corner. Giving the shop assistant a smile of gratification, he disappeared behind the curtain, leaving Ron looking at a horrid lime green suit with a look of fascination. Before he could ask, as Harry had already anticipated the question, he yelled at Ron though the curtain,

“No, you can’t wear that, so don’t even ask. You have your black suit already!”

“Darn,” muttered Ron, slumping down on a chair in the corner and looking miffed, although he could see Harry’s point. Ginny would skin him alive if he wore it, and she would say it didn’t go with her color scheme. He could hear her now, saying, “Oh Ron, I told you that you had to wear black! Where do you think lime green fits into the blue and white theme?”

****

As the sun rose higher and higher into the sky, the babble of wedding guests started to drift though the air. The white marquee had been set up in the back garden of the Burrow and was billowing in the wind like a ships sail. Mrs. Weasley was running frantically from guest to guest to check that everyone was okay, and to gush about how excited she was. Fred and George were showing guests in, slipping in an occasionaltrick, and often being caught and told off by their father.

Harry and Ron had arrived back from the tuxedo shop just in the nick of time and had gone straight upstairs to change. Harry was trying, to the best of his ability with his shaking hands, to do up his shirt. Seeing that he was having trouble and that he was looking a little pale and clammy, Ron went to his aid.

“Harry, mate, you have got to calm down. I have never seen you this nervous, not even when you fought…” Ron looked around and lowered his voice, “You-Know-Who.”

“You mean Voldermort,” said Harry in a very matter-of-fact voice, even if it was shaking a little. Ron flinched at the sound of the name, something he couldn’t seem to be able to stop even thought Voldermort had been dead and gone, along with many of his followers, for a while.

“Yeah him, but good Godric don’t say it out loud!”

As the boys finished getting dressed, Ginny was sitting in her room on the floor below. Her hair was coiffed to perfection and her face was plastered with make-up, which only enhanced her beauty and radiance. Suddenly another wave of fear washed over her; something that had been happening very frequently that day. Flinging open the window to get some air, Ginny heard voices drifting up from the garden down below. One of the people talking sounded like Cho, Harry’s girlfriend from his fifth year at Hogwarts. Leaning over the windowsill to try and get a look at who the second person was, Ginny heard something that made her insides run as cold as ice.

It was nearing midday and all the guests were seated expectantly on the white satin upholstered chairs that were set out in the garden of the Burrow, under the marquee. Huge, lavish garlands of white roses were hanging from the ceiling along with big white bows and glittering candles. The altar had been set up at the front of the rows of chairs, a pale blue cloth that glittered in the sun covering it and completing Ginny's blue and white theme. The only things missing were the bride and groom.

"Oh for Merlin’s sake, where have Harry and Ron gotten to? I have been up there to get them down every five minutes for the last half an hour. The only thing left to do is actually break down the bathroom door, and I really don’t want to have to do that to Harry on his wedding day!" fretted Mrs. Weasley, who was getting more flustered and panicked by the minute. "I told them to be down and ready by eleven fifty five, and it’s now twelve and they aren't here! When I get hold of Ronald, he is going to be in a lot of trouble!”

Luckily Mr. Weasley came over at just that moment, before Mrs. Weasley landed herself in St. Mungo’s, and laid a calming hand on his wife's shoulder. He was, on Ginny's request, dressed in a pair of black dress robes with pale blue embroidery around the neck and sleeves.

"Molly, dear, you need to calm down. Ginny isn't even here yet - Hermione told me she would let us know when they are ready, and she hasn't come down."

************************************************

Hermione was on her way to the bathroom, now in a soft blue strapless, and incredibly flattering, dress instead of her jeans, when she bumped into Ron. "Well, well, well," Ron said, looking her up and down appraisingly. “Look at that! A princess has just arrived at my house- what an honor, madam!” He bowed low in front of Hermione, trying not to laugh.

"Ron!" Hermione said, looking him full in the face. "I have told you, there is only so long I can put up with your so-called compliments. You only say them when you want something.”

"Not always," Ron retorted, looking indignant.

"Oh, I'm sorry, you don't want something then?" said Hermione, batting her eyelashes flirtatiously and raising her eyebrows.

"Well I didn't exactly say that, did I?"
Just as Ron was wrapping his arms around Hermione’s waist and bending down to plant a kiss on her lips, they heard a thud followed by a high pitched cry coming from behind Ginny's bedroom door. Looking at each other with startled glances, Ron and Hermione rushed into Ginny's room to investigate the cause of the outburst.

Ron's red-haired sister had collapsed into a sitting position on the floor, and was looking very white and clammy. She closed her eyes with a pained expression and her bottom lip was quivering. She would have looked like a small child if it wasn’t for her snowy wedding dress that was spread out around her like a giant iceberg. The blossoming flowers she had obviously been holding only moments before had been thrown at the wall, smashed into hundreds of petals, and were now drifting to the floor like scattered confetti.

“Merlin! Ginny, what’s happened?” Without a moment of hesitation, Hermione had run to Ginny’s side and was beside her on the floor, holding her hand and frantically trying to pry words out of her.

“It’s, it’s…” And without managing to finish her sentence, Ginny started breathing very fast and, shut her eyes.
Ginny, pull yourself together. You don’t know that what you heard was true. Don’t take it at face value- maybe nothing happened. get a grip, your not a five year old, you’re stronger than this!”



They sat there for what felt like hours, but couldn’t have been more than a few minutes, frozen like a freeze frame. Ginny was staring into space over Hermione’s shoulder, Hermione hugging and patting her comfortingly on the back, and Ron standing stock still in the doorway, a look of unease stuck on his face.
Finally, realizing that someone had to be rational, Ron made an attempt to get some information from his sister. Crouching down to her level, Ron looked her straight in the eye and gently took her hand.

“Ginny, listen to me. You need to get downstairs, because Harry is waiting to marry you.”

Ron kept his voice very calm, with the intention of soothing her, but to his dismay it did nothing of the sort. Ginny’s face turned as red as a tomato and her mouth set into a hard straight line.

“I will not be going downstairs to marry Harry at this point, Ronald.”

Ron looked taken aback, but before he had managed to utter a single word, Ginny had started speaking again.

“I will not be going downstairs right now,” she repeated in a calm and collected voice, as if the breakdown of five minutes ago had merely been a passing emotion, “Because I just heard Cho Chang outside my bedroom window, talking to goodness knows who, and she informed this mystery person that…that…” She took a deep breath to steel herself, and said, “That she slept with Harry…” she took another deep steadying breath as Ron’s face turned to a look of outrage, whilst Hermione’s mouth fell open like a stone, and continued on to say, “And that it was after he proposed to me.”

The minute Ginny had uttered these words, it was like a bomb had exploded. Ron was charging around the room, a torrent of abuse spilling out of his mouth like water gushing out of a faucet, with his face screwed up and his hands balled into fists. Never in his life had he been this livid at anyone, let alone Harry. Given the chance, he would happily cause him a lot of pain.

“How dare he treat my sister like that! HOW COULD HE! When I get hold of that little...that little... he’s going to wish Voldemort had killed him when he wiped out his mum and dad; he’s going to wish he had gone with Sirius; he is going to wish…”

“That’s enough, Ron.” Ginny’s face was blank and Hermione was glaring at Ron with a sharp look in her eye. “Do you really want to get all worked up at a time like this? You help Ginny, and I’m going to find your Mum. This needs to be sorted out right now.”

Ron made to interrupt but Hermione was having none of it.
“No, Ronald, sit down. You need to be with your sister. We don’t know the whole story, and we need to keep a level head for Ginny’s sake. This isn’t about you, funnily enough!” Hermione’s voice was so commanding that Ron sat down straight away with a scared look in his eye.

***************

Harry was sitting at the front of the marquee feeling increasingly nervous. Where was Ginny? Wasn’t the ceremony supposed to have started about half an hour ago? Why wasn’t she here? he thought anxiously. Then, the romantic sounds of violins and harps filled the marquee and everyone stood up as a hush fell. Glancing round to the entrance, where Harry assumed his gorgeous fiancé would be entering, he saw the completely the opposite. It was true, Hermione was walking down the aisle as she was meant to be, but she wasn’t being followed by Ginny and she wasn’t smiling with the beam that he was sure would have adorned his friend’s face. Her face was stony and she looked very troubled. This look startled him, but he didn’t have time to work out why. There was a buzz in the room as everyone came to the same conclusion: something bad had happened and the wedding wasn’t about to start.

“Harry, you need to come with me.”

Hermione’s voice was so serious that Harry leapt up instantly and began to make his way out of the marquee before realizing she wasn’t following him. She had made her way over to Mrs. Weasley and was muttering hastily into her ear that she needed to come and see Ginny. Harry stood staring as Mrs. Weasley swept out of the tent, looking grave.

“Mrs. Weasley, what’s going on?” Harry shouted after her, his heart pounding, although this time it wasn’t from the excitement of his pending marriage. Something was going on, and he was a part of it, although he was clearly not allowed to know what ‘it’ was.

**********

“I want to talk to Harry alone,” whispered Ginny. Her face was red and her mouth was set in a hard line for the second time that day. She was trying to keep a brave face, but her hand was clasped so tightly in Hermione’s that it was turning a mottled purple and she was trembling like a leaf.

“Darling, I really don’t think that’s a good idea, after what he has done.” Mrs. Weasley’s face was pleading.

“What he might have done,” put in Hermione, her face indignant. “If you don’t mind me saying so Mrs. Weasley, we have no proof apart from what Ginny heard.”

When she saw the look of loathing on Mrs. Weasley’s face, Hermione shrank back quickly. She had never seen such a look on her soft-featured mother in law before, and the effect was very daunting. She hastily moved towards the wall, keeping a safe distance.

“I don’t think I asked your opinion, young lady,” Mrs. Weasley spat, her eyes still flashing. “The fact that your friend is a completely heartless young man and that he has broken my baby’s heart has nothing to do with you, although it’s not something I want to believe at this point!”
There was a sharp intake of breath from the doorway. Harry had chosen this moment to come through Ginny’s bedroom door and he was now standing there looking flummoxed.

“I’m sorry,” Harry said, keeping very calm and choosing his words carefully. “What have I done to whom?”

Although there was a sense of control in Harry’s voice, his face was creased and a pink flush was creeping up his neck. Everyone stood around him, although no one dared to catch his eye. Ron, his arms folded, was standing the closest, apparently torn between loyalty to his friend and the fact that this was his sister they were talking about, his threats from the last five minutes completely forgotten. Hermione was by the window, having moved as far away from Mrs. Weasley as possible, and Ginny was collapsed on the floor. Her dress was spread out around her and the remnants of her make-up smeared all across her face, only broken occasionally by tear tracks. In her hand she clutched a scrunched up tissue.

Harry was still looking round dazedly when his eyes fell on Ginny, and his breath caught in his throat. She looked like an angel, regardless of her red rimmed eyes. He had never seen anyone or anything so beautiful. He felt a painful lump rise in his chest as he realized that all the clues were pointing to one outcome: he wasn’t going to be marrying Ginny today.

What have I done? Harry thought, panicked.
How can I make it better; make her feel better?
But Harry knew that the biggest fear that was buzzing around in his head was that he may have forever lost the only girl he had ever truly loved.

“Ginny. Ginny listen to me. Stop talking over me, Ginny, you don’t understand.” I don’t even understand, he thought to himself. Harry’s brow was creased and he was looking a bit put out at the situation.

Ginny was still storming from one side of the room to the other. Her hair had now completely freed itself from its grips and was tumbling around her face in ferocious waves, tousled to within an inch of its life because she had been obsessively running her hand though it throughout the last half an hour. Her hands, in fists at her side, looked like they were ready to lash out at Harry at a moment’s notice. After watching Mrs. Weasley and Ginny shout at each other about the pros and cons of Ginny talking to himself alone, Harry had then been pulled, pushed and practically manhandled into the bathroom by his fiancé. Although, he wasn’t sure if that term was still appropriate in the current situation.

The light was fading fast outside the window and birds were still singing their light, jolly tunes, oblivious to what was going on in the house. They were completely unaware that the relationship of the two people inside had reached make-or-break time. The raised voice of a feisty red haired girl floated out on the light wind though the open window, breaking though the soft summer evening.

“Don’t you patronize me; don’t you even dare, Harry. Remember that I am the youngest child of my family, with six older brothers, none of whom went easy on me because I was a girl. I play Quidditch professionally Harry, and that’s not exactly a picnic, is it?

“I fought in the battle, although you didn’t think I was strong enough for that. You didn’t even want me to fight; another time when you thought I was too weak. I’m a woman now, Harry; I’m of age, so I am allowed to make my own choices. Oh, and let’s not forget the main thing: I’m not childish enough to cheat on someone. Would you say after all of that that I am still a child? That I can’t form my own conclusions from things I have heard my fiancé say outside my bedroom window, on my wedding day?” Ginny’s eyebrows were raised and she was looking at Harry with a look of mock interest, as if she really did want to hear his opinion.

“No… I… that wasn’t,,, Ginny, stop this!” Harry stuttered. There was an edge to his voice as he tried to get a word in edgeways. He could feel the anger bubbling up inside his chest. This was proving harder than I thought it would be, he thought to himself.

“Well, it sounds like that’s exactly what you are saying, so go on Harry. I’m on the edge of my seat to hear how you are going to get yourself out of this one!” Ginny’s eyes were flashing menacingly, and this was the most cross Harry had ever seen her. His stomach was now in such complicated knots he thought he was going to be sick, or at the very least, pass out. He had heard tales about the anger of the Weasley women, and none of them ended well.

“Look, Ginny, sweetheart.” He reached out to touch her shoulder but she moved away. He continued talking; his voice was more forceful and hard than it had been before. “I don’t know what you heard, but it wasn’t true. I have never been unfaithful to you. Would you stop throwing these wild accusations at me?” The last question came tumbling out all in a rush of anger and hurt. He was worried that if he didn’t get it out fast enough, Ginny would cut him off again and he wasn’t sure he would be able to endure that without yelling at her.

“I don’t have to do anything of the sort. Don’t you get it? I gave you everything. I trusted you, and you - you threw it back in my face as if it meant nothing.” Ginny was trying to keep feeling out of her voice, scared of showing how vulnerable she felt, but it was difficult. She had so many emotions swirling around her head she could hardly separate them. Anger, hurt, sadness, loss and relief were like fish, swimming around her at an alarming rate.

Anger that Harry dared to deny cheating on her, claiming that she was mistaken. Hurt that he obviously didn’t love her. Loss of the love she thought they shared, loss of the only person she had ever really loved, someone she had trusted enough to allow her guard down; the wall she had built in order to protect her form this exact situation. And finally - and maybe this was why Ginny had been so confused - relief, that she had been realized from the trap she had felt she was in. She loved Harry with all her heart, sometimes so much that she thought she would explode, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was doing the wrong thing. All she wanted was reassurance that Harry loved her as much as she loved him, but sadly she had gotten the complete opposite.

“Harry, tell me honestly: do you love me?”

“Ginny, I love you with all my heart!” His voice was softer now, as he had resigned to the fact that getting cross wasn’t going to do him any favors in terms of getting Ginny to believe him. “I love the way you brush your hair out of your eyes when you are worried about something. I love the way you don’t take any rubbish from anyone. Ginny, I would die for you. Please believe me that I did not cheat on you with Cho. I have known you for five years; why would I throw that all away?” He became unable to swallow his anger and his voice was annoyed again. “How could you even think I would do something like that?”

“Then how do you explain what I heard? What was I supposed to think, Harry? It’s not exactly what a bride wants to hear on her wedding day.”

As Ginny’s eyes ran searchingly over Harry’s face, desperately trying to find a shred of honesty on it, she saw something she had only rarely seen running though his eyes: determination. It was as if his heart would break right there and then with the longing to be believed. It was the one type of determination that could only come from having to face situations that were so important, he thought that he might just explode. That's how badly Harry wanted to succeed- when he felt as if there was no point in living a second longer unless he got what he wanted. Ginny didn't see it during the Triwizard tournament. She didn’t even see it when he played Quiddich - a sport that meant everything to him. In fact, she had only seen it on his face when he faced Voldemort that final time. When the whole school stood around the edge of the hall during the battle at Hogwarts, was when he was convinced that the lives of everyone he loved were in his hands. He would do anything he could to save them. Ginny saw that his yearning to be believed and the determination to make her see the truth may be the proof she needed. And the torrent of abuse, the hexes that were about to spill out of her mouth, dissolved on her tongue, melting like butter.