Harry stood before a creaky old shack that sat alone upon a wide country lane, eyeing it warily. After some time, he turned his confused gaze to the paper in his hand. This has got to be a joke, he thought for one terrifying moment, as he again apprehensively surveyed the crumbling structure.
He looked down at the rumpled piece of parchment once more. "712 Scottsdale Lane," it persisted in saying. Unsure of what was going on, Harry looked at the numbers that hung on the door; old and rusted so much that he couldn't even imagine what their original color must have been. 7-1-2. He even prodded at the last number to make sure it wasn't an upside down five, but it had been firmly bolted in place as an unmistakable two.
A little distressed, Harry traced his steps all the way back to the road marker, studying it intensely to make sure he had the right lane. It had two t's, an s between the second t and the d, and even ended in an e. Making his way moodily back to the ancient building, if it could even be called that, Harry thought to himself that, according to the paper, this was the right place, but it couldn't be.
Not wanting to give up, he made his way slowly around the shack. There were no windows at its front, but Harry found one around back, and tried looking in. The pane was so caked with dirt that he couldn't make out anything other than faint streaks of light and shadow. "Scourgify," he intoned, waving his wand at the window, but no matter how much he tried the cleaning spell, it did little to clear up the inside, leaving the window as opaque as ever.
Another window he found on the remaining side of the shack had produced similar results, and, in frustration, Harry gingerly sat on the front porch, grimacing at the prospect of splinters, or worse, a full out collapse.
He grimly stared at the parchment that he had not let out of his grasp for nearly two weeks now, looking for hidden hints or clues in the writing that just weren't there. After several minutes of finding nothing, he threw the parchment down to the ground in disgust. Forget it, he thought to himself, entertaining the idea of giving up.
But then he retrieved the parchment, chiding himself for even thinking of giving up when he had promised himself he would go through with it. He would at least try.
With a deep breath, Harry again faced the door, raising a fist as if to knock. It felt strange standing at the threshold ready to knock without the protection of his invisibility cloak or a disillusionment charm. He was going to do it, he thought as he pulled back his fist, bracing himself for anything.
Closing his eyes, he let his knuckles wrap against the feeble door, feeling small sprays of dust alight upon him as he did so. One, two, thr…
The door flew open, and Harry opened his eyes to see a short, plump woman with fiery red hair looking back at him. For what seemed like an eternity, they just gaped at each other stupidly, and then, without warning, the redhead crushed Harry in the tightest bear hug he had received in his entire life.
"Oh, HARRY!" Mrs. Weasley squealed, any further attempts at speech dying in low sobs. Though her grip was impossibly tight, Harry somehow managed to wrap his arms around her, and in seconds his sobs had joined hers. Clutching her nearly as tightly as she held him, Harry felt like a kid again; safe and warm again, wrapped tightly in the arms of the closest thing to a mother he had ever known.
"I was so worried," she managed in a very shaky voice that had filled Harry with guilt. "We didn't know where you were, or if you were alive, or in trouble, or anything," she continued, each new worry only strengthening Harry's feelings of guilt. Then, after a particularly strong squeeze, she parted from Harry, her hands warmly holding his shoulders, and added, "But you came… You're here now, and that's what matters. And only just in time too, you almost missed everything."
At first, Harry didn't know what to say. Just like that she was forgiving him, welcoming him back, and he felt that no amount of apologies or thanks could ever do her kindness justice. In that moment Harry knew that he really was as good as one of her own children. Her glistening eyes and motherly embrace had told him that no matter how far he strayed, as long as he was willing to come back, she would be there to welcome him.
Still unable to find words that could express how he felt, Harry gave up trying and wrapped her in an embrace of his own that knocked the wind out of her. Just as he had known she would always welcome him back, he knew that she understood everything he was feeling right then. He didn't have to apologize to her, or thank her. She already knew.
And so, instead of saying words that didn't need to be said, Harry let go of her, smiled warmly, and said, "Of course I came back, Mrs. Weasley. I wouldn't miss this for the world.
Mrs. Weasley wiped a tear from her eye and gave a very watery chuckle. "Of course you wouldn't, dear," she said as she patted his cheek fondly. "Now come along, I'll show you where you need to be. Oh, when Ron sees you…" She looped an arm around Harry's elbow and showed him into the shack.
The moment Harry crossed the threshold, though, his jaw dropped nearly to the floor. They were standing in an immense foyer with large oaken chairs lining the circular room and a high vaulted ceiling strung up with at least a dozen dazzling chandeliers, each the size of a small Merry-Go-Round. "Wow," he whispered in utter awe, and the woman on his arm chortled good-naturedly.
"Well, we wanted to do the thing properly, which meant loads of anti-Muggle security. Come on dear, we haven't much time," she explained as she gave his arm a squeeze. Obviously Harry's arm had changed a bit since last they met for she whistled and said, "My, you've filled out a bit, haven't you?"
Harry offered her a sheepish grin and let her guide him through a door so large that he reckoned Hagrid's younger (and considerably larger) brother Grawp could have easily fit through it without even hunching. If the foyer was large, it was nothing compared to the hall that followed as cream-colored walls arched high above him, meeting so high that Harry could only just make it out.
Mrs. Weasley continued to chatter excitedly, and Harry was able to get a good look at her. She was wearing a set of silver dress robes, and had grown even thinner than she was at the outset of the war. Despite her comparably gaunt appearance, though, she was positively bouncing as she spoke. He knew she was excited because it was a special day for her, but he wondered if at least some of that happiness was reserved for his return. Stopping mid-sentence to give Harry yet another hug, Mrs. Weasley had confirmed Harry’s suspicion that she was in fact happy he was home.
Eventually, after walking what seemed like miles, they reached another gigantic door, and Mrs. Weasley pushed it open quietly. The dressing room they had entered was considerably smaller than the first two rooms Harry had been in, but it was no less inspiring. Velvet covered chairs and sofas were scattered comfortably around the room, and a large bay window set into the wall had cast a soft glow over them, giving the impression that they radiated a kind of welcoming warmth.
In the middle of the room, standing on a modest pedestal and dressed in the most intricate set of dress robes Harry had ever seen, Ron was looking at himself, pale-faced, in a three paneled, full-length, mirror, worrying his tie nervously. For a moment, he continued with his business, completely unaware that two people had just entered the room, but when his mother cleared her throat, Ron started with fright. Turning, Ron’s eyes instantly latched on Harry, and his mouth fell wide open.
Quickly, the pale Ron gained what little composure he had left, and without smiling said, “So, decided to show did you? Cutting it a bit thin, don’t you think?”
"Well, I'll just leave you two to it, then. Ron, don't take too much longer, we'll be starting soon." Mrs. Weasley turned to leave, but not before giving Harry another great hug and repeating, "It's so good to see you back."
With Mrs. Weasley gone, and the door closed behind her, Harry stuffed his hands into the pockets of his traveling cloak, and didn't meet Ron's eyes as he muttered, "Guess she missed me, huh?"
“Nearly worried herself to death, more like. She wasn’t the only one, you know,” Ron answered pointedly, and Harry dug his hands in his pockets deeper, trying to find something he could fix his eyes on so he wouldn’t have to meet the glare that Ron must obviously be giving him.
“Look, Ron… I’m s-“
“Save it,” Ron sighed, and Harry looked up hopefully. Ron was looking at him with his brows deeply furrowed and a slight frown on his face. They stared at each other in silence until Ron’s frown eased a little and his shoulders shrugged. Finally, the faint frown had turned into a nervous smile and he said, “It’s alright. Really, I’m just glad you’re here.” Taking a step forward, Ron added, “Means a lot, actually.”
"So, um, you're not mad?" Harry asked, giving Ron a furtive look as he did so. Ron cocked an eyebrow at Harry before returning to the mirror and the task of trying to get his tie on straight.
"Of course not. How long've we known each other?"
"Little over seven years."
"Right. Seven years, Harry. Reckon I know a little bit about you after that. When me and Hermione saw that you had left after… well, after, I figured two things. I figured you needed to go off and sort things out, and I figured you'd come back eventually." Ron completely untied his tie in utter disgust, mumbling "blasted thing," as he started over from scratch.
"Yeah, well, I suppose you were right," was all Harry could think of to say as he watched his best friend fret over the tie in the mirror. "Those are some nice robes, by the way," he remarked, studying Ron's robes a little more carefully now that the initial shock of their reunion was over. They were jet black and cut in extremely sleek lines. The extraordinary thing about them, though, was not the color or the cut, but the embroidery work on them.
Covering nearly the entire garb were spider web-thin lines that curled and meandered in vine like tendrils. They were silver in color, but tinges of blue seemed to creep around the swirls in delicate ebbs and flows. Those must have cost a fortune, Harry thought to himself as Ron took the opportunity to marvel at his own clothing.
"They are nice, aren't they?" he said, his tie hanging limply around his neck. Ron gave himself a very approving look before returning his eyes to Harry. The moment he did so, Harry watched as his eyes grew wide with horror. "Blimey, Harry. Where are yours? We sent them, I know we did. They had to have gotten to you in time, we sent them over a week ago."
Harry looked down at himself, and only just then remembering that he was still wearing his traveling cloak, he unfastened the clasp, and peeled it off, revealing his own dress robes.
They were the same color of black as Ron's, and cut in the same way. But unlike Ron's, Harry's robes were not covered in the entrancing vine like designs. Instead only the cuffs and seams were trimmed in the silvery threading. At the sight of them, Ron let out a very relieved sigh. "I didn't want them getting messed up on the way over," Harry offered in explanation.
Ron continued to fiddle with his tie, and Harry could tell that he was growing paler by the second. "You alright Ron?"
"Of course I'm not all right," he snapped. "What if something goes wrong? What if she changes her mind? Merlin, what if she finally realizes what she's doing?" Tugging at the tie furiously, Ron added, "What if I can't get this stupid bloody tie to tie properly?"
Harry walked over to Ron and swatted his hands out of the way. "Here, I've had some practice," and, without pulling out his little cheat card, Harry deftly tied Ron's tie. As he did so, Harry asked, "You still love her, right?"
"What kind of question is that?"
"A good one, I've been gone for nearly three months, remember?"
"Yeah. Yeah, of course I do."
"And she loves you?"
"Well, at least she says she does." Harry gripped Ron's shoulders and held him fast with his eyes.
"She does, mate. You know she does, and you know nothing's going to go wrong. Everything's going to be alright, okay?"
Ron nodded in reply, and Harry saw a slight look of shame cross his face. "Harry, I'm sorry we didn't tell you sooner. We probably should have, but, well, with you and… Ginny, and everything, we just… I just thought it was for the best."
Ron cringed in anticipation for Harry's reply, but he hadn't needed to. Harry only smiled, tightening his grip on Ron's shoulders a little more as he said, "It's fine, really. I understand."
"So, you're not upset about it then?"
Harry laughed. "Of course not. I'm happy for you two. You're getting married, Ron, and it's gonna be brilliant, and I couldn't be happier," and without really knowing how it happened, the two were hugging each other.
"I am getting married, aren't I?" Ron asked.
"Yes, you are."
"I'm getting married, and you're back, and you're going to be my best man, and everything," Ron muttered. Before Harry could answer back, the door to the dressing room flew open, accompanied by the sound of Fred and George catcalling.
"Oi, Fred, look at this! Don't think our blushing bride is going to be thrilled to find her groom smitten with another."
"No, George, absolutely not… Unless, well, she's into this sort of thing."
"It is always the quiet ones, isn't it?"
Ron had broken the embrace with Harry as he apparently needed both hands to give each of the twins a rude gesture of their very own. He had hardly gotten his hands up when the twins had swarmed Ron and Harry.
"Uh-uh, Ronniekins, we miss Harry too," said Fred as he and George wrapped Harry and Ron into a smothering embrace.
"Yeah, come off it, give us a hug," added George, and Harry felt the air forced out of his lungs as the group embrace tightened.
"Nice to… see… you lot, too," Harry was able to wheeze as he watched Ron turn blue. Again the door to the dressing room opened, only this time, Harry heard a voice that was all too familiar as belonging to Neville.
"Hey, Ron, your mum sent me to… HEY!" Amid the jumble of red hair and black clad limbs, Harry could vaguely make out the sight of Neville being pulled into the group hug, a look of pure shock on his face.
"Neville! Why don't you say hi to Harry?" Fred chuckled.
"Harry's here?" Neville had asked but before anyone could answer him, he let out a high-pitched squeak. "Alright, who did that?" Again, the twins laughed maniacally, but before the huddle could grow any more uncomfortable they let go, and the five of them broke apart.
"It's not too late to trade you two out for Bill and Charlie, you know," Ron warned in a strained voice as he massaged his misused ribs.
"You wouldn't, Ron," said George.
"Or we'll tell mum about your most recent order at the shop," Fred threatened for good measure.
"Hi Harry," Neville said as he inched away from Ron who looked like he was steeling himself to take on both twins at the same time. "Well, I guess… since you’re here… you're the best man now. So, you'll be needing this."
Neville pulled a small white gold ring out of his pocket and handed it to Harry. Harry looked at it dumbly. "Neville, if you're supposed to be the best man…"
"No, it was always supposed to be you. I was just in case," Neville explained, waving off
Harry's attempts to give the ring back. "Besides, I really didn't want to have to give a speech anyway."
"Speech?"
"Yeah, the best man's speech. Sometime while we eat, you're supposed to get up and deliver a speech about the couple."
"But, Neville," Harry protested. "I can't give a speech. I only just got here. I didn't have time to prepare…"
"TIME!" Neville interrupted Harry with a horrified look on his face. "Ron! Your mum sent me to let you know it's TIME!"
"Bloody hell," George groaned. "We're going to have to run if we're going to make it."
"What do you mean? We can just Apparate, can't we?" Harry asked, confused.
"Look at him," Fred said, pointing at Ron. At the mention of time, Ron had skipped being pale and went entirely green. His eyes bulged and looked as if they were about to pop right out of his head as his mouth opened and closed wordlessly. "He'd Splinch himself horribly if he tried to Apparate in this state."
"Yeah," George agreed. "Probably lose some parts he'll be needing later on, too."
"Right, grab him," Harry ordered, holding the door open as Fred, George, and Neville dragged a mortified looking Ron out into the hallway. As the four manhandled Ron down the hall, Neville and the twins took it in turns to catch Harry up on the ceremony, paying particular attention to the parts he would have to play. Ron, struggling for all his worth, didn't make an intelligible sound until Neville had got to the bit about the vows.
"Oh no," he croaked, and for a second everyone stopped dead.
"Don't tell us you haven't finished with your vows yet," pleaded George, shaking his head in disgust.
"Finished?" Ron said worriedly as he looked at his brother.
"You mean you haven't even started them?" Neville asked in exasperation. Feeling things going from bad to very much worse, Harry gave Ron a shove from the back, getting the procession moving again.
"Don't worry, Ron. You'll figure it out, we've got to go." Ron looked back at Harry, and Harry gave him the most winning smile he could muster. The moment Ron looked away, though, Harry's smile turned immediately into a grimace.
Finally, the odd procession had come across a very anxious looking Mrs. Weasley being calmed by her eldest son, Bill. Though the hall continued on, they stood in front of a set of doors that dwarfed all the doors Harry had seen up until this point. As they neared, Harry could hear Bill trying to soothe his mother, saying, "Don't worry, mum. He'll be here. It's probably just nerves."
The effect Bill's attempts at comfort would have on Mrs. Weasley Harry would never find out as at that moment she looked up to see her youngest son being dragged towards her by his groomsmen. Her tear streaked face had turned stern and she nearly shrieked, "Where have you been?" But when she got a better look at her son, her face softened, and she grabbed him by the hand.
"Alright, I got him now, you lot line up and get ready, the music's set to start the moment Bill opens these doors," she instructed the rest of the procession as she drew Ron a few steps away. As Harry was the best man, his position was still close enough to overhear the words that Mrs. Weasley had for the groom.
Embracing Ron in a tight hug, Harry heard her whisper, "Oh, Ron, I'm so proud of you. I've never been prouder." Ron mechanically hugged her back as if he were scarcely aware of what was going on. At this, Molly had taken a step back, and taking Ron's hands in her own, appraised her son with a look of absolute love in her face.
"My little Ronnie has grown up to be quite the man," she began in a more normal voice. "I've just been to see her, you know. She's beautiful. She's beautiful and excited, Ron. She's excited to be marrying you, and despite everything you've accomplished up until now, and that's a lot, nothing could make me prouder than knowing you've grown into a man so good that a woman that wonderful is excited to marry you." At this, Mrs. Weasley stood on tiptoe and pulled her son's face down to kiss him on the cheek. Holding his face in her hands, she whispered, "She's waiting for you, Ronald. Now, let’s go see about getting you married. What do you say?"
Harry watched as Ron nodded, and Molly looped her arm around his elbow. The scene that Harry had just witnessed had touched him in a way that was both a little painful, and a little lifting. This was what he had fought so hard for, he reflected. This was also what he had deprived himself of for three long months; love. It was a tribute to the tenderness of the scene that Harry realized that despite the molly-coddling, the twins had not uttered a single hiccup of laughter.
Mother and son standing side by side, Mrs. Weasley nodded at Bill, and Bill winked at Ron as he opened the great double doors. Music came to life from the other side of the doors, beautiful music that sounded like a hundred acoustic guitars strumming a heart wrenching ballad, and Harry could see Ron silently count to its seductive rhythm. When he had reached ten, both Ron and Mrs. Weasley took a step, and marched in unison through the doorway. Harry let out a sigh of relief.
Turning back to look at Fred, he had whispered, "Got a bit dodgy there for a second, didn't it?" but Fred just nodded to something over Harry's shoulder. When Harry looked, he felt his world come to a screeching halt.
Directly across from him, lined up exactly as the groomsmen had been, were the bridesmaids, and at their head, taking the place of Maid of Honor, was Ginny Weasley. All of a sudden, Harry found it very difficult to breathe; he had never seen anything more beautiful in his entire life.
Her dress was the color of a deep azure blue, trimmed in the same silver ivy like patterns as his dress robes. Her curtain of fiery red hair had flowed freely over her bare freckled shoulders, and Harry could feel his fist clench at the site of her fair skin as though his fingers were being drawn magically to brush against her exposed flesh. A few stray strands of her hair had fallen gracefully over her face in such a way that made Harry stifle a groan. For an instant Harry had worried that he would lose all control and just grab her right there and kiss her until the sun went down, wedding be damned. But he held fast.
The most wrenching thing about her, though, was her face. Angelic and perfect with just the slightest hint of lip-gloss, Ginny stared at Harry hard, letting through no hint of emotion. The only thing that told Harry that Ginny was even in there were her eyes. Eyes that stared at him, filling him with a flood of emotions he couldn't even name. The music was forgotten, along with the building they were in, the wedding they were supposed to be a part of, and everything else. So when Fred whispered in Harry's ear, he couldn't help but flinch.
"That look means you're in trouble, I’d wager," Fred had warned. "Wouldn't want to be in your shoes, mate, but best of luck to you."
Not daring to take his eyes off of her, as though afraid she might disappear, Harry whispered back, "You're her brother, aren't you? Thought you'd take her side."
"Yeah, but I think you're the underdog in this one, Harry."
Harry was ripped from this train of thought, however, as Bill cleared his throat pointedly, and he noticed that Ginny had taken several steps toward him. When he reached her, she did not give him the slightest bit of expression, but only pushed her elbow out a little so that Harry could take it. As Harry snaked his arm around hers, his fingers grazed the tender skin of the crook of her arm, and an intense tingling sensation surged from his fingertips throughout his entire body. They had not touched in ages; a fierce hug that felt so painfully like goodbye.
This was different, not like a hello, but instead like missing parts becoming reacquainted after years of longing. He felt his body thirsting for just another graze and he willed himself with every ounce of strength and self control not to wrap himself around her, smother her, engulf her until she was a part of him.
Bill had counted off the beats for the two, and when he nodded at them, Harry and Ginny had walked lock-step into the cathedral.
Just as he had gotten the air back in his lungs, Harry felt it immediately knocked back out by a severe sense of vertigo. Just as the doors leading into the cathedral had dwarfed all of its predecessors, so too did the room that he and Ginny had walked into. And it wasn't just the sheer size of it either, but the effect in total. Row upon row of pews had covered the immense floor, seating what seemed to be thousands of witches and wizards, each dressed in magnificently colored dress robes. The walls were paneled with a dark, rich, wood, and up ahead, adorned in red velvet, was the altar at which Ron and a curiously familiar old wizard stood.
The truly amazing thing about the room, however, was the lighting. Harry had gotten used to the multitude of floating candles that lit up the Great Hall at Hogwarts, but here, the many thousands of flames that floated in mid air had no candle from which to burn, and instead of giving off warm yellows and oranges, the brilliant flames cast a rich, rose color. Pristine sparks shot from the flames and instead of dying in the air, they soared up from the fire of which they were born, lingered for just a moment, and slowly drifted down until they hovered just above the heads of the congregation, giving the impression that the cathedral was filled with millions of tiny red stars.
The awe he felt was the kind of thing that Harry would want to share with Ginny before he had ran away, and he had almost did exactly that, but he almost lost his footing when he turned to look at her. She was smiling at some of the various seated witches and wizards, but that wasn't what had caught hold of Harry's attention. It was her dress. Whether it was a trick of the light, or some sort of magic, her dress was no longer blue, but now a luxurious, dark, wine color. The trimming had also changed, ceding its silver color for a passionate glowing flame that matched her hair perfectly. Just get to the altar, he told himself over and over again, straining to peel his eyes away from the image upon his arm.
Trying to find anything to distract him from the girl that was making his heart turn back flips, Harry looked out upon the sea of faces, and found to his dismay that many of them were looking back at him in shock. People were leaning over towards one another, eyes fixated on him, and whispering frantically. He knew only too well what they were whispering about, and wanted nothing more than to reach the safety of the altar.
Unfortunately, the altar provided little protection. Indeed, as Harry was too busy gaping at everything other than where he was going, he came upon the altar unaware and felt his toe catch on the bottom most step. As his balance started to fail him, terrifying thoughts rushed through his mind. He was going to fall. Here it was, his first day back and he was going to ruin his best mate’s wedding by falling down and making a fool of himself in front of the entire congregation. Worse still, Ginny hadn’t seemed particularly overjoyed at Harry’s return, and he knew that bringing her down with him could hardly improve her mood.
And so it was with immense shock and relief that Harry never found himself splayed across the steps. Amazingly enough he was still standing, his arm held fast by Ginny next to him. Before cautiously negotiating the steps upward, he ventured a glance at her, and though she had just saved them both minor injury and greater embarrassment, her face still showed no emotion, quickly eroding his newfound sense of relief.
As they took their positions, what little relief had still remained was wiped away as Harry realized that he and Ginny were positioned one step below the bride and groom. This would mean that Harry and Ginny would be facing each other throughout the entire ceremony, and Harry began to wonder if he could bear it if she continued to stare at him the way she was now.
Breaking eye contact with her, Harry shifted his eyes to the groom. "Alright, Ron?" Harry ventured, trying to alleviate the guilt that Ginny's gaze had filled him with.
"Think so," he replied hoarsely. "I'm here now, I suppose. No turning back and all that."
"No," Harry agreed as he watched Fred escort Fleur Weasley up the aisle.
Taking his position behind Harry on the step below, Fred huffed and whispered, "Good looking or not, that woman is a nightmare. Complained the entire time up the aisle. If the bride hadn't already threatened me and George with bodily harm, I swear I would have planted a Blimper on her."
"A what?"
"Oh, new item for purchase at the shop. Perfect for girls who are stuck on themselves. You just palm a tiny little button on them, and within minutes they blow up to the size of a house."
Harry's shoulders shook with silent laughter as George followed after, escorting Fleur's younger sister, Gabrielle up the aisle. A moment later, he overheard George say something about a Blimper, and it was everything the three could do to keep themselves from exploding into fits of laughter.
"What's so funny?" Ron whispered back, and Harry was quick to assure him it was nothing.
Neville came next, escorting Luna Lovegood. She was pointing at the lights above, whispering animatedly in Neville's ear, and Harry saw him on more than one occasion shake his head ruefully.
"Wonder what she's on about this time," Ron mused aloud. The answer came a few seconds later as Neville had explained that Luna was lecturing him on the dangers of "Coblomps," an apparently dangerous type of half insect, half fairy that liked to live in magically created fires.
Despite Ginny's continuous stare, and Ron's still present unease, the whispered banter that traveled up and down the line of groomsmen had done much to settle Harry's nerves, and he was feeling somewhat relaxed when all of a sudden the fires overhead had flared up into a bright white before mellowing into a softer, gentler, glow. The music had changed into the familiar Bridal March, and on cue, Ron had turned to face the altar.
Every seated witch and wizard rose and turned toward the great double doors, and the wedding party, minus the groom, followed suit. The anticipation hung thick in the air, and despite this not being Harry's wedding, he could feel his own heart begin to flutter.
"Whoa!' Harry uttered in an awed whisper at the sight that stepped through the doors, and Ron reflexively started to turn to look. Reaching an arm out to grab him, Harry muttered, "Don't look, mate, it's bad luck. But… whoa…"
"What?" Ron asked annoyed, but for a moment, Harry couldn't answer him. Harry had been through something similar to this before. In their fourth year, at the Yule Ball, nearly everyone was shocked to see that the beautiful girl on Viktor Krum's arm was none other than Hermione Granger. Again, at Bill and Fleur's wedding, Hermione had made more than a few mouths drop. But this had surpassed both events easily.
As she walked into the room on Mr. Granger's arm, the first thought that popped into Harry's mind was that she looked like she had just walked straight out of the pages of a storybook.
The sparks that hung in the air, now soft white, seemed attracted to her, and slowly began to circle around her, occasionally alighting on her beautiful white dress, giving it a heavenly aura. Like Ron's dress robes, Hermione's dress was also decorated with the same silver/blue designs that seemed to curl around her every curve accentuating every lovely feature. Unlike Ron's robes, the designs were not bound to her clothing, but roamed free over her uncovered shoulders, and wrapped around her delicate, unblemished arms.
Again, Hermione's brown hair was no longer bushy, but neither was it forced into a restrictive bun. This time, Harry noted, her hair hung free, sculpted into exquisite ringlets that framed her thin white veil and flirted tantalizingly with the silver designs on her shoulders. The most touching thing about her, however, was only partially hidden behind her veil. The veil itself was impressive as it not only carried those same intricate designs as the rest of the garb, but it also had the surreal effect of not just hiding Hermione's face, but at the same time accentuating it.
Though Harry shouldn't have been able to, as Hermione neared he could manage to see every detail of her face. Her eyes shown wetly with poised tears, her lips glistened softly, her bottom lip tucked nervously under her teeth, and her chin trembled slightly. It was the unmistakable look of someone so madly in love that every second apart from the one they belonged to was killing them.
Like everyone else in the room, Mr. Granger continued to gape at his daughter in sheer awe. She was, Harry had to admit, the loveliest vision in the room. Or second loveliest, he amended, but then, he might have been a little biased.
As father and daughter reached a very small section of the congregation dressed not in robes, but suits and dresses, they stopped. Hermione waved timidly at them, and a very teary eyed Mrs. Granger waved back. Mr. Granger then turned to his daughter, and for a brief moment, they whispered something to each other. He bent down to kiss her on the forehead, and before he could pull away, Hermione had wrapped her arms tightly around him, and he had little choice but to return the gesture. With a final look at each other, and a quick clasping of hands, Mr. Granger had joined his wife, and Hermione made the final leg of her journey up the steps of the altar alone.
Just before taking her spot at the altar, Hermione caught Harry's eye, and her mouth had shifted into a smile. A few tears ran down her cheek, and, to Harry, it somehow felt like “thank you.” As if to confirm this, she let her smile widen and gave him a very discreet wave before turning her attention to the matter at hand.
Finally, after listening to all the gasps at Hermione's appearance, after having to stand and wait to be the last one to see her, the old wizard who was overseeing the ceremony motioned for the bride and groom to face each other, and Harry heard Ron utter a very audible gasp. Red began to creep onto the back of Ron's neck, and his body began to tremble noticeably as the flames above dimmed even further, and the wizard at the top of the altar began to speak.
Harry had a hard time catching every word spoken as his attention was being viciously fought over by the couple being married, and the stony-faced Ginny who was now looking at them. As the old man continued to speak about the beauty of marriage and love, Harry found himself again amazed by Ginny's dress which had changed color for a second time, now a soft powder blue in the dim white light. As much as he wanted to lose himself in watching her, Harry forced himself to pay at least a little attention to what was being said as he knew he had still a part or two to play in the wedding.
The part of the speech that had grabbed the most of Harry's attention had come at the wizard's mention of Voldemort. It was then that the volume of people started to become clear as the priest (was he a priest?) had implied that this was the first celebration since his fall, and the type of thing that everyone standing at the altar had fought so hard for; joy, comfort, and love. It had become clear to Harry at that moment that these people weren't just here to celebrate Ron and Hermione's marriage, but also to celebrate the end of the fear that had consumed them for years. The couple weren't being honored just as lovers, but as heroes as well.
Ron had broken Harry's reverie when he reached back, his hand open expectantly. Harry realized that the wizard had called for the rings, and knew that the exchanging of vows was about to take place. As he put the ring in Ron's hand, he gave Ron a quick squeeze in good luck, and waited, trying not to hold his breath in anticipation.
The wizard had ceremoniously asked who would go first, and Hermione timidly raised her hand. Memories had flooded Harry's mind of Hermione thrusting her hand into the air, nearly jumping out of her seat at nearly every teacher's question back in school, and he had to bite the inside of his cheek not to laugh. A second later, when she cleared her throat to speak, there wasn't a thing in the world that could have started him laughing.
After being given her ring by Ginny, Hermione took Ron's hand in her own and locked her eyes on to him. "Ron," she squeaked in a quavering voice and then stopped. She was trembling from head to toe, her perfectly sculpted tresses shaking at the edges of her veil, and Harry watched her eyes close slowly. It had seemed for a brief moment that she might faint, but then Harry saw her take a deep breath. Her jaw clenched for a moment, and with a very slight nod of her head, she reopened her eyes, fixing them upon Ron with a light of renewed determination.
“Ron,” she began again, and though her voice still trembled a little, it had returned to its normal pitch and was much more under control. “It’s been exactly one year, two weeks, and four days since you asked me to marry you. I know this because… because that’s the effect you have on me. I can tell you the exact date when we first kissed, or when we first rowed, and every row we’ve had since. I know the exact date of every single time I thought you were going t-to die, as well as the day when you broke my heart, and I thought I was going to die. I remember the day when you fixed my heart again, and the very first day you told me… the day you told me that you loved me.”
“I remember everything when it comes to you, Ron, because you won’t let me forget. We’ve known each other for six years, eleven months, and eighteen days and I know this because from the very moment I met you… the moment I set eyes on your red hair and smudged nose, you’ve filled my world with colors I’ve never seen before, and feelings I didn’t know even existed.”
“But the one that stands out now is the day you asked me to marry you. I remember every word. I won’t say them all but… that night… I asked you what marriage was. You told me that marriage was a different kind of love, the kind where you fought with that someone else, knowing you would make up. The kind of love that let you take on the world because you knew that no matter what it threw at you, that someone else would be by your side. That night, Ron, you told me marriage was being on your death bed, and knowing that the other person would be there, and that that’s all that mattered. That night you showed me that different kind of love, the kind that could be boring when it was just about the routine of things, but so much more exciting and wonderful because no matter where you are, or what you are doing, you know there is that someone else out there and that… that you belong to each other.”
"People are so quick to say how clever I am, but I know that's not true. If I were truly clever, then it would have never taken me as long as it did to realize just how much I needed you… how much I loved you… how much a part of me you had become. So I'm not all that clever, really. I have learnt a few things from books and classrooms, but… what I realized that night you asked me to marry you, was that the most important things I’ve learned about life, I learned from you, Ronald.
“I’ve learned what it means to be a hero when you came to the aid of a damsel in distress," at this, Harry smirked, knowing exactly what incident she was talking about. "I've learned the meaning of courage from you when you faced your greatest fear, again for the same damsel in distress," and at this, Harry's smirk had turned into a full smile.
"I've learned the meaning of loyalty from you, and the meaning of friendship as I watched you stand time and time again by your friends no matter the consequences. But more importantly, you taught me passion. From every row we've ever had, to every kiss we've ever shared, there hasn't been a single emotion that you made me feel that didn't swallow me whole. Most importantly, Ron," she said as she took an almost imperceptibly small step towards him, her voice now strong and solid. "You taught me how to love… you taught me about a type of love filled with mountain trolls and rushed breakfasts, and I learned that there’s nothing more in this world I want more than that, and no one else I would rather share it with."
"And so, with this ring," she said, slipping the wedding band onto Ron's finger. "I pledge to spend my life using the lessons you've taught me. I promise to save you when you need it, and to face my worse fears for you. I promise you my loyalty, and I promise to always be your closest friend and confidant. I promise to you every ounce of passion in my soul, and to give you nothing less then everything of me in every row, in every kiss, and in every single moment we share. And I promise to love you, Ronald, because without you, I would never really know what love is."
Silence. Years seemed to pass as thousands of pairs of moist eyes shifted slowly from Hermione to Ron. By now Ron was blushing furiously, and Harry could only guess how nervous he must have been as his incredibly shaky hand reached for Hermione's. For a moment, their hands shook in silence, and Harry saw Hermione's thumb run reassuringly over Ron's knuckles. This seemed to give Ron the courage he needed to go on as the shaking had ebbed to a slight tremble. A tear had fallen down his cheek, soaking into his lapel, and finally, Ron spoke.
"I'm… I'm sorry, Hermione," he croaked, and Harry heard a few people gasp. Hermione's face had threatened to don a look of horror, but Ron quickly started to explain. "I've neglected to do my homework… again," with this the gasps in the crowd had turned to chuckles from those who knew Ron the best, Harry included.
"I tried so hard to write the perfect set of vows for you, but I couldn’t. What made it worse was that it wasn't as if I could've gone to you for help, could I? Here I am, the most important assignment of my life, and I couldn't go to the one person I always went to for help. Only, this time, it was different. Every time you helped me in the past, it was because I didn't know what was going on, or too thick to understand it, but not this time."
"This time, I knew exactly what I wanted to promise you, Hermione. That's the easy part. I wanted to promise you the world, but… see… it's not mine to give. I wanted to promise you the moon, and the stars, but I'm just not clever enough to pull it off. I-I wanted to promise you fame and fortune, but I haven't figured out how to do that for myself yet, let alone give it to you." Looking around, Harry could see nearly everyone wearing fond smiles at Ron's touching, if slightly humorous sentiments, but then Ron's tone had shifted a little.
"I wanted to promise you a knight in shining armor… someone clever, and brave, and perfect, but I can't. I would have promised you someone better than me if I could, but I… I wouldn’t be able to stand it. I wanted to promise everything you deserve and more, but… I'm just… I’m just plain old Ron, and I don’t have any of those things to give." Hermione's head started to shake from side to side a little as tears slowly made their way toward her chin. When Ron had referred to himself as just "plain old Ron," a pleading look arose on her face as if she wanted him to know that that wasn't how she saw him. But Ron didn't answer this gesture as he slipped the ring over her finger, and continued to speak.
"I am just plain old Ron, and I have only one thing I can give… one pledge I can make. With this ring, Hermione, I… I give you my heart. I give it to you because it's the only thing I have to give… because I don't want it if I can't share it with you. I give you my heart, Hermione, b-because you're the only one that can make being plain old Ron feel like the greatest thing in the world."
By the time the wizard had taken back control of the ceremony, both Ron and Hermione were crying freely, and their hands were clasped tightly together, white and shaking with the effort. Ron had to be asked twice if he took Hermione to be his wife before uttering a barely intelligible "I do" and Hermione's was only a little clearer.
The minister had scarcely finished the sentence "You may kiss the bride," before Ron hastily threw back the veil, and swept her into a deep passionate kiss, and the room exploded into light. All throughout the hall wands were raised and sparks matching the fires above were rocketing towards the sky. Fred, his wand in the air too, had nudged Harry, and Harry followed suit. Cheers filled Harry's ears as the now married couple continued to kiss.
Hermione had wound her arms around Ron's neck, and the most bizarre thing began to happen. At every point where Ron and Hermione touched, the delicate designs that had adorned their clothing had separated themselves from their homes. Seeking each other blindly, the individual tendrils had found and entwined themselves with their counterparts. In tandem with the sparks from the wands and the fires above, the colors of the designs had faded from silver and blue to that same passionate color of rose red. At the height of passion, the threads had glowed, and then, as Ron and Hermione broke apart, the lights softened, the colors faded, and the vines untangled themselves and returned where they belonged.
Hermione grinned as she bit her lip, and Ron smiled almost goofily for a second as they rested their foreheads on each other, and then at the old wizard's cue, they turned to face the hooting crowd as the man behind them bellowed, "I'm very pleased to present to you Mr. and Mrs. Ronald Weasley!"
Epilogues, Part I: Shadows by Grimmrook
Chapter Notes: Well, we’re almost at the end. For anyone who has been keeping tabs, you may think we’re there, but we aren’t. Here’s the deal. Initially, this was going to be the final chapter. Only five. But the problem is that after all my rewrites, the final chapter came out to a solid 18,000 words. Even I realize this may be a little excessive (says the man whose last chapter of his previous story almost cleared 15K). So I split it up in two, also allowing me to further milk the whole being at the top of the most recent list. Yes, I’m cheap, I have no shame, I’m okay with that. Again the same thank you’s go out to the same people: Rosebeth, Critmo, and HPmaniac666. And please please please review, okay? I’ve gotten plenty of reviews for my earlier stories, and those weren’t nearly the effort. This story, all told, took at least a month to write, and it was hard stuff, so I’m not above begging anymore. But as always, here’s your reader review incentive playlist. Remember, if there’s a song you think should be on here, I’ll add it: For this chapter and the next, sappy love songs are the order of the day. Here are a few that fit this particular one: Dashboard Confession, “Vindicated,” Seal, “Kissed by a Rose,” Staind, “Epiphany,” “Everything Changes”, James Blunt, “Beautiful”, Sundays “Wild Horses,” Blink 182, “Down,” and “I miss you,”Just about anything from Death Cab for Cutie, really. Weezer, “Perfect Situation”. 311, “Love Song,” or “Amber”. And I’m gonna stop it at that. Enjoy, and REVIEW!