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.