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Author: Aibhinn Story: Heal The Pain Rating: Everyone Setting: AU Status: Completed Reviews: 21 Words: 198,021
Saturday, 28 March "I'm not certain about this," Ginny said quietly as she walked into the bridal shop with some trepidation. Hermione had her hand resting on the small of Ginny's back, which was all that kept the small redhead from bolting. She'd never been in such a high-class Muggle establishment before, and was terrified of making a fool of herself-and more than a little overwhelmed by the literally hundreds of dresses she saw on racks and displays about her. "Why can't I just wear a nice Muggle frock and be done with it?" "It'll be all right," Hermione reassured her. "I helped my aunt plan her wedding the summer after second year; I've some experience." "Hermione, you were twelve," Ginny pointed out. Hermione waved that off. "I still remember," she said confidently. "Don't worry, Ginny." Not worry over my own wedding? "I still don't understand why we're here three hours before the boys," she said, a tad grumpily. If she had to put up with fittings and such, why couldn't Harry be here with her? "It's likely to take two to three hours to find the right gown," Hermione said. "Honestly, Ginny, I researched this quite thoroughly a couple of weeks ago." "Two to three hours?" Ginny said, aghast. "To try on dresses?" "Well, you want to look your best at your wedding, don't you?" Before Ginny could answer, a handsome woman appeared from the back of the shop, dressed in a tailored skirt-suit. "Good afternoon, ladies. May I help you?" she asked in a soft, warm voice. Hermione spoke before Ginny had a chance to. "You have an appointment listed for Harry Potter at one o'clock, I believe. This is his fiancée." "Ah, yes." The clerk turned her kind, dark-eyed gaze on Ginny. "Your name, Miss?" "Ginny Weasley." Her voice was stronger than she'd been afraid it might be; she'd half-expected it to come out in a squeak. Well, that's something, she thought. At least my voice is cooperating. The clerk gave a small smile. "Right this way, please, Miss Weasley. We'll get you started while we wait for Mr Potter." She gestured toward a set of changing rooms near the back, and Ginny obediently started toward them. "Shouldn't I look at gowns first, before I go into the changing rooms?" she asked Hermione. "No, that's my job," Hermione said reassuringly. "I'll find a selection and bring them to you, then you try them on and make your decision. We don't want you getting overwhelmed, after all." "I already am," Ginny muttered under her breath. Hermione just smiled. The changing room was surprisingly large and comfortable, with a chintz-covered divan at one wall and mirrors on the other three. A small step-stool was placed in front of the centre mirror. "Sit down and relax," Hermione directed. "I'll go find a couple of gowns to begin with. Simple, you said, right? Nothing frothy or frilly?" Despite her nervousness, Ginny laughed. "Nothing frothy or frilly," she confirmed. "I know I'm sweet, but I'd really rather not resemble a meringue." Hermione chuckled and let the curtain fall closed behind her, and Ginny sank down onto the divan, her mind awhirl. I'm in a Muggle bridal shop, picking out the gown I'll wear to my wedding when I marry Harry Potter, she thought. I'm going to marry him in a week. In a week! It was beyond comprehension. She'd loved him for almost ten years, and now she was going to spend the rest of her life with him. Ginevra Molly Potter. She wondered if her mother had felt as strange about changing her name from Prewett to Weasley, or if Harry's mum had felt the same about changing hers from Evans to Potter. Or if Hermione will feel this way about going from Granger to Weasley. That thought made her giggle. It was only a matter of time, she reckoned, before Ron got up the courage to propose to Hermione. Maybe my wedding will give him the push he needs. My wedding. The curtain was pushed back and Hermione and the clerk came in, each with two gowns on hangers. They hung the gowns up on hooks, then the clerk smiled at them. "I'll be just outside if you need any assistance," she said. "Don't be surprised if it takes two hours or more to find the right gown, Miss. Take your time and ask any questions you like; that's what I'm here for." She left, making certain to pull the curtain tightly closed. Two hours or more-I guess Hermione wasn't wrong about the amount of time it takes! Ginny turned her gaze to her maid of honour. "Don't even think about saying 'I told you so'," she said, but with a smile to soften the words. Thank Merlin for Hermione. At least SOMEONE knows what she's doing! Hermione just grinned back at her. "All right," she said with her usual briskness. "We've got four to start with, and I can always go back and get more, so you shouldn't try to decide right away." She pointed at the wall beside the divan. "There are three hooks over there, so as you try them on, I think we should separate the gowns into yes, maybe, and no. The no gowns we'll put right back out on the rack; the others we'll look at again." She unbuttoned the first gown and slipped it off the silk-covered hanger. "Shall we begin?" ----------------- Two and a half hours later, Ginny buried her face in her hands. "I can't try on another gown, Hermione," she groaned. "I just can't." "Did any of the others look the way you wanted to look on your wedding day?" Hermione asked pointedly. Yet another satin-and-lace creation was draped over her arm. "Yes," Ginny said desperately. "That-that last one." "You said it made you look like you'd lived in a cave for a year," Hermione reminded her. "Then the one before that." "The skirt was so wide, you'd never make it through the door of the Registry Office." "Then the one before that!" Ginny wailed. "The lace itched, remember? Ginny, really, this is supposed to be the happiest day of your life. I mean, think about it: how many times are you going to marry Harry Potter?" "Two, if you'll recall," Ginny said pointedly, and re-buried her face in her hands. Hermione paused for a moment, taken aback, but she rallied remarkably well. "Ginny, please," she said. "Just one more. I spent a lot of time looking, and I think this is the best of the lot." Ginny groaned again. "All right, all right," she said, dropping her hands to her lap. Hermione's eyes lit up. "But just this one. Fifteen gowns are more than enough!" Hermione helped her lift the skirt over her head and settle the bodice properly, then swiftly did up the buttons in the back. "There," she said with satisfaction. "Turn around and take a look." Ginny turned toward the mirrored walls and gasped. Slowly, she stepped onto the stepstool to get a better look at the full effect of the dress. For a long moment, she couldn't speak. The gown was an antique white, a warm tone that flattered her complexion rather than making her look washed-out, the way so many of the gowns had done. The sleeveless bodice was deceptively simple in construction: gauzy fabric was gathered over a brocade satin under-layer and sewn into a matching satin band, about an inch and a half wide, that created the low-cut square neckline. Handmade bobbin lace had been added as a trim, and matching lace ran along the bottom hem of the skirt of the gown, which fell to mid-calf and was made of the same brocaded satin as the bodice. The skirt flared out over a sewn-in petticoat, and was lined with more satin. Great Merlin. I look ... beautiful. A light tapping sounded outside. "Miss Weasley?" the clerk's voice said. "Do you require any assistance?" "Yes," Hermione said. "Might we have your opinion, please?" "Certainly." The curtain was pulled back and the clerk slipped in. She looked Ginny up and down, and a small smile crept across her face. "Yes," she said with approval. "Yes. That's lovely. That suits you quite well, Miss Weasley. Quite well indeed." A tinkling bell sounded, and she glanced over her shoulder. "I'm sorry, I must go tend to my customers." "Of course," Hermione said, and the clerk slipped out again. She turned to Ginny. "Well?" Ginny nodded. "Yes," she said softly, unconsciously echoing the clerk. "This is the one." "No veil?" Ginny looked at Hermione and raised an eyebrow. "I said nothing that would make me look like a meringue!" she said teasingly. The two girls looked at each other for a long moment, then burst into giggles. "They do, rather, don't they?" Hermione said, wiping her eyes. "All right. We'll do your hair up nicely, no veil." Ginny suddenly became aware of the voices out in the shop. "Is that Harry?" she asked. Hermione twitched the curtain aside slightly and peered out. "Yes," she said. "And Ron." She glanced at Ginny. "Do you want to show him?" Ginny looked at herself in the mirror again, considering for a long moment. Somehow, with the discovery of the perfect gown, and the laughter of a few moments ago, her nervousness had slid away. "No," she said finally, a half-smile curling her mouth. "No. Let's surprise him." She stepped down off the stepstool. "Here, help me get it off." Swiftly, Hermione undid the buttons and helped Ginny peel the gown off. Ginny slipped her Muggle jeans, shirt, and trainers back on, and watched while Hermione hung the dress on a hook. "I'll let the clerk know which we want, and that you don't want the boys to know," Hermione said with a twinkle in her eyes. "Why don't you go on out and say hello?" Ginny flashed her a grin and stepped out into the store proper. Now that the decision was made, the weight that had been pressing on her was gone, and she felt almost as though someone had cast Wingardium Leviosa on her; her feet didn't quite touch the ground. Though seeing Harry again might have something to do with that...or maybe it's just that I'm marrying him. She came round the corner and stopped. Harry and Ron were on the far side of the shop. They were both dressed in Muggle morning suits and examining their reflections in the mirrors. Neither of them saw her. I'd forgotten there's a formal menswear shop attached to the bridal shop. Pity Muggle mirrors don't speak, she thought, holding in a giggle. I'd love to hear what this one had to say, with two handsome hunks of manly flesh parading in front of it. Careful not to be seen, she approached more closely. "Are you certain about these west-coasts, Harry?" Ron was asking with some asperity, tugging on his as she came within earshot. "They're annoying." "Waistcoats, Ron. They're traditional," Harry said patiently, straightening his ascot. "And they're ivory because I don't know what colour flowers Ginny wants." "Purple and orange," Ginny said, amusement in her voice as she leaned against a post off to the side and behind them. "With yellow stripes. Can you manage that for me, Harry?" Both boys swung around, startled. Harry's face broke into a smile. "Gin!" he said, striding toward her. She held out her hands and he wrapped his arms round her, pulling her close for a hug and a kiss. "You and 'Mione all finished, then?" "Yes. You'll be getting the bill soon, Mr Potter." She grinned up at him. His face fell slightly. "You mean I don't get to see you in the dress?" he asked, disappointment in his voice. "Not 'til next Saturday. It's bad luck; didn't you know that?" Ginny let her eyes twinkle at him. "It's supposed to be bad luck to see you on our wedding day before the ceremony, love, not the dress," Harry corrected. "Well, do I get to see my ring?" She cocked her head and raised an eyebrow. "You know you can't. I haven't bought them yet. We're going on Wednesday." "Then you can't see the dress. Fair is fair." Harry mock-glared at her for a long moment, then shook his head and laughed, unable to keep up the pretence. "All right," he said magnanimously. "I'll let you have your secrets. But you'll have to tell me what flowers you want, so we can match." He indicated himself and Ron. Ginny pulled back and examined the two of them. "No," she decided at last. "Stay with the ivory. I like it better. But I will tell you what flowers I want." Harry waited. She waited, too, mischievously. Ron rolled his eyes and turned round again, adjusting his morning coat in the mirror. "Well?" Harry said at last. "What do you want?" She grinned at him and quoted: "If of thy Mortal Goods thou art bereft, "Not that old thing again," Ron complained over his shoulder. Ginny ignored him. "Hyacinths," Harry mused. "I like that. What colour?" "Well, not purple, that's for certain. It means sorrow and bitterness, and we're not bringing that to our wedding!" She smiled. "I was thinking dark blue." "Purple means sorrow?" Harry asked, confused. "Purple hyacinths do. Flowers have meanings, Harry, didn't you know?" He shook his head. "I had no idea. What do blue hyacinths mean?" She looked up into his eyes and squeezed him gently. "Constancy." He blinked, then smiled. "That'll do," he agreed. ----------------------- Wednesday, 1 April Everett and Sons Jewellers was a large, high-class establishment with a reputation for fine jewellery at a less-than-modest price. Harry knew about them because his aunt and uncle had celebrated their fifteenth wedding anniversary the summer before his third year at Hogwarts, and Uncle Vernon had purchased a very ostentatious diamond-and-platinum ring for his wife. It had likely cost him nearly a year's salary, but it was the ability to tell everyone who commented upon it, Yes, Vernon bought it for me at Everett and Sons, isn't he a dear? that Harry reckoned Aunt Petunia cherished most. Still, he could afford to buy from the best; and the best he could afford was still too little for Ginny. "Are you mooning about my sister again?" Ron demanded as they made their way past the crowds heading for Kensington Palace. "No," Harry said a bit defensively. "I was thinking about what kind of ring I should buy her." He'd received an odd look or two from the sales clerk when he'd bought the relatively simple and inexpensive sapphire-and-diamond ring last winter, but as he'd known how much Ginny loved sapphires, it hadn't fazed him; he hadn't been about to buy a ring she hated, even if it was obscenely expensive. Nor am I now, come to that. "Yeah, you're mooning," Ron said disgustedly. "I swear, it's enough to make a bloke swear off women, watching you two." "Have you told Hermione that recently?" Harry said innocently. Ron flushed, and Harry laughed. "Good, because I happen to know it's not true. By the way, mate, your Silencing Charms are slipping. Good job your parents are heavy sleepers." Ron was bright red and sputtering as they walked into the shop. A sales girl looked up and hurried over to them. Harry grinned; much to Ron's dismay, he'd Transfigured their jeans and t-shirts into high-quality, expensive-looking trousers and shirts, and their trainers into leather shoes. They now looked like the kind of customers who'd receive prompt service in a posh store such as this. Only the solemn promise that Harry would Transfigure his clothes back before the twins or, worse, Percy saw them, had convinced Ron to go. "May I help you, sir?" the sales girl asked. "I'm here to purchase wedding rings." Her face lit up. "Oh, how wonderful! I'm sure I wish you very happy, sir. If you'll just come round here, sir, all our wedding rings are in these three cases." "Three cases?" Ron repeated under his breath as the clerk slipped back behind the counter and over to a section of glass display cases near the back of the store. Harry ignored him, moving over to view the cases she indicated. Rows upon rows upon rows of rings greeted him, of every design imaginable. Harry stared. How was he ever to make a choice? "These," the clerk said, indicating the first case, "are yellow gold. These," she indicated the second case, "are white gold, and these," she indicated the third, "are platinum. Do you have an idea what type of metal you'd like?" "Yellow gold," Harry said immediately. That was the metal in Ginny's engagement ring. "And something simple and tasteful. Nothing gaudy." "Ah, a lady of taste," the clerk said knowingly. "Of course. Well, sir, take your time-if you've any questions, or would like to take a closer look at any of our rings, don't hesitate to ask." She smiled, waited a moment as if to see if he had anything to ask right then, and then moved gracefully off to another part of the store. "Brilliant," Ron said quietly. "I was half afraid she'd hang about so we couldn't talk freely. All right, which one?" "Hang on!" Harry protested. "I've barely got here." "Well, it can't take that long, can it? It's a ring, not a house." "It's her wedding ring, Ron," Harry said through gritted teeth. "I'm not going to buy the first gold band I come across just because I don't want to spend the time looking. If you're so bored, go find a blind alley or someplace else nobody can see you, and Disapparate back home." Ron held up his hands. "All right, mate, all right, I'm sorry. Take your time." Harry took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Sorry, Ron. I shouldn't have snapped at you. It's just-I know we're doing this quickly, but I want to do it right." "I know, Harry," Ron said sympathetically. "I'd feel the same if it were Hermione and me." He leaned down over the case of yellow gold rings. "All right. Which ones do you fancy? Let's narrow this down a bit." They spent about fifteen minutes looking before Harry called the clerk back over to have her pull out a few for a closer look. There were two or three plain gold bands of differing widths, including one that was nearly a centimetre wide; rings with inlaid or channel-set stones; rings with starbursts or other designs engraved upon them. None of them felt right, though, and Harry was becoming frustrated. "Maybe we could come back another day," Ron suggested at last, as Harry stared at the rings in growing confusion. "Give you a chance to sleep on it." "How can we?" Harry asked tiredly. "You've got to work tomorrow, Ginny comes home Friday, and the wedding is Saturday." He drove his hands into his hair. "I've got to do this today." Shouldn't have left it so late, should you, you tosser? said a snide voice in the back of his mind. And then something caught his eye, hidden in the back of the case amongst some very overdone and ugly rings that he'd only glanced over. Harry leant forward. "Miss? Could I see those, please?" he asked, pointing. She took them out and placed them on the counter. They were a bride and groom set, identical except for the size. Harry picked up the bride's ring and turned it over in his hand, looking at it closely. It was engraved with intricate Celtic knotwork, of the type where two lines weave together in a pattern with no beginning and no ending. They were perfect. He looked up. "These are the ones I want," he said firmly. "I'll take them both." "Excellent," the clerk said in delight. Ron had picked up the groom's ring and was looking at it. Harry turned to him. "What do you think?" he asked hesitantly. He probably should have asked Ron's opinion before making his decision-but the rings were right. Ron looked up and nodded, to Harry's relief. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, I reckon these are the right ones." The clerk had pulled out a double ring box. "Do you need these sized?" she asked. "The bride's ring is a K and the groom's is a Q. That's the way we size all our display rings." "No," Harry said. "These will be fine." He'd charm them to fit later. "Very good, sir." She placed them in the box and shut it with a click. "Are you ready to pay, or was there something else you'd like to look at?" "Just these, thanks." She took the rings to the tastefully-hidden cash register and Harry followed, pulling his wallet from his back pocket. He'd gone to Gringotts the day before to turn Galleons to pounds-and he was grateful now he'd got as much as he had. "That'll be... nine hundred and twenty pounds even, sir," the clerk announced. Ron twitched, but Harry just opened his wallet. He'd known that rings from Everett and Sons were likely to be quite expensive. He pulled out a thousand-pound note and handed it to the clerk, who made change without comment as if she handled thousand-pound notes every day. Well, maybe she does, Harry thought with amusement as he slipped his wallet back into his pocket. The clerk held out a small bag into which she'd slipped the ring box. "There you are, sir," she said. "Have a pleasant day, and congratulations." "Thank you," Harry replied, and they exited the shop. "Whew!" Ron exclaimed once they were back out in the open air. "That was a full day's work, that was. But you made a good choice, mate. Ginny will love those." "Thanks." Harry held up his hand, and a cab pulled to the curb. He opened the door for Ron. "Hop in. I don't fancy messing about with the Underground." As Ron folded his long limbs into the taxi, the driver turned and asked, "Where to, gents?" "The Leaky Cauldron," Harry said. "Number eighty-six, Charing Cross Road." He got in beside Ron and shut the door. "Right you are." The cab pulled into traffic, and Harry sighed, leaning back. "You have anything planned for this afternoon?" he asked Ron. "Not really. Why?" Harry fingered the small, hard, velvet-covered box through the bag. "Because after all that," he said ruefully, "I need a drink." Ron laughed. "You'll need one even more on Saturday morning, mate." ------------------ Saturday, 4 April Harry knocked on the door of the women's loo. "Ginny!" he called. "It's nearly time!" The door opened to reveal an exasperated Hermione. "We'll meet you there, Harry," she said in a voice that brooked no opposition. "We're not quite ready." "But they'll be waiting for us!" Harry objected. "They'll be waiting longer if you keep me here arguing, rather than letting me get back to what I was doing. Now go on. We'll be there shortly." The door shut, and Harry took a step back. Hermione was never that short with him. He looked at Ron, who was unsuccessfully trying to hold in laughter. "Never try to mess with a woman the day of a wedding, mate," Ron advised. "Any woman, but especially the bride or the maid of honour. Trust me on this. I've been to my share of weddings, and they're all the same." Harry sighed and rubbed his forehead wearily. "Let's go on to the Wedding Room, then," he said. "They won't come out until they're ready to, in any case." "And you're not supposed to see Ginny until she walks in, either, don't forget." Ron clapped Harry on the shoulder. "Come on. 'Today is the first day of the rest of your life.'" "Don't I know it," Harry muttered as they started off down the hall. It was finally beginning to hit him... within half an hour, he'd be married. Married. He felt strangely distant, as though this were all happening to someone else. It was almost as if he had stepped out of his body and was watching this from elsewhere, perhaps on television or in the cinema. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening. In less than ten minutes, I will be marrying Ginny Weasley. He wasn't nervous, which somehow struck him as odd. Shouldn't I be nervous on my wedding day? he thought vaguely. Aren't most people? But nervousness is for things that you aren't certain are right, said a voice in the back of his head. Have you ever been uncertain about marrying Ginny? The voice had a point. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he had always known she would be the one he'd marry. He wasn't positive when it had begun-it predated his Vision in seventh year by some time-but it had been strong enough that, when the Vision had appeared, it hadn't struck him as odd or surprising or frightening. It had almost been like being reminded of something he'd known all his life. In just a few minutes, I'll be marrying Ginny Weasley. After what seemed like hours of walking, they finally entered the Wedding Room. It was a beautiful room, he noticed with that same odd distance, done in neutral shades and tastefully decorated, with a handful of fabric-covered chairs arranged as though for guests to the ceremony. Watercolor prints hung on the walls, which had been covered with a soft beige wallpaper, and a small bowl of silk flowers sat in the centre of the table at the front of the room. Beside that table, a man and a woman were waiting for them. "Mr Potter?" the man asked genially. He was slender, with graying, light-brown hair, probably in his mid-forties. He wore a badge with the inscription "Reginald Corey-Superintendent Registrar." Beside him was a woman of about the same age, with short, blonde hair and a rather horsey face. Her badge read "Genevieve Dannot-Registrar." In her hands was a manila file folder with the label "Potter - Weasley". "Yes," Harry said, shaking hands with both. "This is my best man, Ron Weasley." Ron, too, shook hands. "Splendid, splendid," Corey said. "And where is the bride?" "Finishing her preparations," Harry said a bit ruefully. Hermione's scandalised expression when he'd opened the door still lingered. Corey gave a small smile. "Yes, I'm certain she wants to look her best. Genevieve, may I have the file?" She passed it to him, and he opened it, perusing the forms and the marriage certificate briefly. "Everything seems to be in order," he said, "so as soon as-" His face brightened as he looked over Harry's shoulder. "Ah, and here come the ladies now!" Harry turned and felt as if his heart had stopped. Ginny was walking toward him in an antique white gown with a low-cut square neckline that emphasised her slender build and a calf-length skirt that flattered her shapely legs. She was holding a small nosegay of dark-blue hyacinths. Hermione had done something elaborate to her hair; it was piled loosely on top of her head, cascading down in ringlets, with wisps of hair framing her face. She was, quite simply, the most beautiful creature Harry had ever seen. He swallowed as she came up beside him. "Hi," he said awkwardly. "Hi." Her eyes were the colour of fine Swiss chocolate, and so deep he felt as though he might fall right into them. His heart was beating again, but it was still difficult to breathe. "Shall we begin?" Dannot's soft, warm voice came dimly, as through a fog. Ginny took his hand and turned to face the two Registrars, but Harry had to forcibly tear his gaze from her before he could follow suit. Her hand was cold; she must be nervous as well. He gave a reassuring squeeze as Hermione arranged herself on Ginny's left side, stepped slightly back, and Ron did the same on Harry's right. "Are we ready?" Corey asked. Harry nodded, and he heard Ginny's soft affirmative. His heart was in his throat again. He swallowed, trying to force it down. "This place in which you are now met has been duly sanctioned according to law for the celebration of marriages," Corey began. "Before you are joined in matrimony I have to remind you of the solemn and binding character of the vows you are about to make. A marriage according to the law of this country is the union of one man with one woman, voluntarily entered into for life, to the exclusion of all others." Voluntarily entered into for life...for life...for life.... Harry swallowed again. The distance had faded; he was now in the midst of reality, and nervousness had tumbled down upon him with the weight of bricks. This was it. "Mr Potter, repeat after me." He took a deep breath, and repeated the words the Superintendent Registrar said: "I declare that I know of no legal reason why I, Harry James Potter, may not be joined in marriage to Ginevra Molly Weasley." "Very good. Miss Weasley, if you would repeat after me as well?" "I declare that I know of no legal reason why I, Ginevra Molly Weasley, may not be joined in marriage to Harry James Potter," she said softly but firmly to his prompting. Corey smiled. "Now face each other, and take each other's hands." Ginny handed her bouquet to Hermione, then her left hand was sliding into his right, and they were looking into each others' eyes again. It felt surreal, as though Harry were experiencing something that was actually happening to someone else, as with his dreams in his fifth year. Though this is a significantly better dream than watching Nagini attack Mr Weasley.... "Mr Potter, repeat after me. I, Harry James Potter..." "I, Harry James Potter..." His voice sounded tinny in his ears. "...take you, Ginevra Molly Weasley..." "...take you, Ginevra Molly Weasley..." She was smiling brilliantly, he noticed, but only because the smile sparkled in her eyes. "...to be my wedded wife." "...to be my wedded wife." "Right. Miss Weasley, repeat after me. I, Ginevra Molly Weasley..." "I, Ginevra Molly Weasley..." Whereas his voice had sounded terrible, hers had somehow managed to sound musical, as though she were a coloratura soprano singing a Mozart aria. "...take you, Harry James Potter..." "...take you, Harry James Potter..." The smile was definitely broader now. Harry felt his heart speeding up. "...to be my wedded husband." "...to be my wedded husband." Husband. I'm going to be a husband. She's going to be my wife, and I'm going to be her husband. It was a dizzying thought. Ginny's hands squeezed his, and he squeezed back gratefully. "Have you the rings?" Corey asked. Dimly, behind him, Harry heard Ron fumbling in the interior pocket of his morning coat, then saw him hand the rings to Corey. Corey handed the smaller wedding band to Harry. "Mr Potter, place this on the fourth finger of Miss Weasley's left hand." Thankfully, Ginny lifted the proper hand; at that moment, Harry wasn't certain he could have told his left from his right. Hand shaking, he took the ring and placed it on her finger. The gold glinted there in the artificial light, glimmering along the engraved knotwork. It looked-right. "And now, Miss Weasley." Ginny took hold of his ring, the sapphire sparkling on her right hand where she'd placed it for the ceremony, and carefully slid it onto his own hand. It felt odd to have something there, pressing against his pinky and middle finger-and yet it felt good as well. Solid. Heavy. Comforting. She looked up at him through her lashes, and he felt his heart swell. He saw Corey's smile out of the corner of his eye. "And now, by the power vested in me by Her Majesty's government, I pronounce you husband and wife. Mr Potter," he said solemnly, "you may kiss your bride." Moving as though in a dream, Harry let go Ginny's hands and placed his fingertips on her waist. She slid her arms round his neck, and he touched his lips gently to hers. They were warm, and soft, and pliable, as they had always been, but now, suddenly, they didn't belong to his girlfriend. They belonged to his wife. Applause broke out around them, and he pulled away rather sheepishly, but glowing with delight all the same. "Excellent!" Ron called. "Well done!" Ginny blushed bright red, and Hermione hissed, "Ron!" But she was glowing and delighted as well, Harry could tell. "Only one last thing left before it's legal," Corey said. He pulled the marriage certificate out. "We need your signatures, Mr and Mrs Potter, and your best man and maid of honour's as well. And then Ms Dennot and I will sign, and that's all that's required. You'll be officially married." His eyes twinkled at Ginny. "You'll be signing your maiden name for the last time, I believe." Harry met Ginny's eyes. He knew what she was thinking. Mr and Mrs Potter! They both grinned in delight as they stepped forward to sign the paper. Then Ron's untidy scrawl and Hermione's neat penmanship, and finally the Registrar and the Superintendent Registrar. "Congratulations," Corey said as he put down his pen. "You are now officially husband and wife, and may I be the first to wish you many, many years of joy." He held out his hand, and Harry and Ginny shook it. "Thank you," Ginny said quietly. "Thank you so very much." "It's my pleasure." They both shook hands with Ron and Hermione as well. "Well, unfortunately, we must go," Corey said. "We've another wedding in ten minutes. Enjoy your wedding day, Mr and Mrs Potter." Arm in arm and with a glow about them that Harry was certain could be seen from miles away, he and his wife headed out into Muggle London with their best friends. He knew all four of them were attempting to keep thoughts of his trial, which loomed only nine days away, out of their thoughts, at least for this one day... however difficult that might be. A/N: This chapter has been a very long time coming, as a result of many forms of "real life." I must thank many, many people for their help, including (as always) Michele and Sherry, who have been lifesavers and deserve big smoochy kisses (especially Michele, the former wedding planner); Kokopelli, who read the scene with the vows and pronounced Harry's sense of vertigo to be sufficient; AllietheKiwi for her guidance, sense of humour, and pre-betaing skills (and instructing me in morning dress and other weirdnesses of Commonwealth weddings); Galen2112 and BryonyRaven, for read-throughs and for inviting me to their home and thus giving me a deadline ("I WILL be done with chapter 18 before I leave for Missouri!"); my lovely beta, Ahmie, who betaed this chapter with a one-month-old baby and while in process of moving halfway across the country; and, last but certainly not least, my Heal the Pain Yahoogroup for their patience and for answering my poll about the wedding gown. I hope my description suits you all. Please keep in mind, everyone, that I've never been married, so all this is either researched or out of my own (perhaps too fertile) imagination. The poem Ginny quotes in the bridal shop, "Hyacinths to Feed Thy Soul," is attributed to Moslih Eddin Saadi, a Muslim sheik and Persian poet who lived about 1184-1291. Also, if you're interested in finding out what Harry & Ron looked like, check out http://www.lords-formal-wear.com/ and click on 'Morning Wear,' then scroll down to the 'Balmoral.' That's the one. In addition, the Bank of England does not actually print thousand-pound notes, which I discovered to my horror after the chapter was finished (thanks again, Allie!). In fact, they don't print anything above fifty pounds. I fumbled with various attempts to get round the problem-including the possibility of a Gringott's debit card!-but finally decided I'd just say something in my Author's Note. What the heck, it's fiction and an alternate-universe story, right? *grin* Thanks for sticking with me over the nearly two months since I'd updated!
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