"That," Sirius said, crouched onto his hands and knees and wishing he could retch, "was the most unpleasant experience I have ever had."

James had recovered before he had and was currently upright, the bastard, adjusting his tie. "That's exactly what you said when you died, Padfoot. Try and concentrate."

"Rather the same thing, then, isn't it? I suppose I'm just not well-equipped for dying," his friend mused, stumbling to his feet and brushing imaginary dust from his jeans. "Will you stop fussing over that thing? You know they can't see you."

James shot him a glare. "It's my son's wedding, Black. You could have at least tried to look presentable."

"But they can't see—" he was interrupted by his dearest friend darting past him to hide behind a potted plant as a small group of wizards they didn't recognize passed through the hall they'd arrived in. "Oh, for…"

"Shut it," Plant-James hissed. "I just don't want to take chances, all right?"

Sirius shrugged, striding behind the group of elderly wizards and looking around. "No need to be nervous, Prongs. It's your one and only day to experience the joy of ghosthood. Lookit," he grinned, poking his arm into a wall and waving it around. "Imagine if we'd have been able to do this at school!"

"I don't think you really would have enjoyed being dead at school," James muttered, trailing behind him and looking as if he'd swallowed a flobberworm. Sirius shrugged again.

"Maybe not. Gotta make the best of it, right?"

Wizards, they'd discovered, received exactly one day to return to watch over the living after they'd—to use the delicate term—passed on. They both felt rather gypped, actually, as no one had ever given them the choice to become full-time ghosts. The man who'd led them both to their afterlives, a friendly young-looking wizard with a shaggy goatee named Edgar, had simply shrugged and told them to be thankful for what they had.

They were, of course. When Sirius had passed through the veil, James and Lily had pounced him practically on the archway, armed with tears and congratulations (bit of an odd phrasing he'd thought) and demands for news on Harry and Remus and Harry and Dumbledore and Harry Harry Harry. Finding himself in the arms of his long-lost loved ones (not to mention twenty-one again, wrinkles and aches and Azkaban-lingering coldness lost from his bones), Sirius found himself thinking that if he hadn't been left to watch over Harry, he bloody well should have kicked it a long time ago.

James had chosen this day to return to the world and dragged Sirius along with him, had been waiting Harry's whole life for it (Lily had insisted on staying behind until the day his first child was born). They'd all considered choosing the day of Voldemort's defeat, but had found on its arrival that they'd been able to cheat a glimpse and even been able to speak to Harry without losing the opportunity. On returning, they'd all (including Remus, who'd stumbled through the veil within hours of the Dark Lord's downfall, heroic battle and all that) given a toast to the wonder that was loopholes.

"Wonder where the action is," Sirius was saying, exploring the seemingly endless maze of hallways in the magic cathedral. "The old sods up there'll have to give us another day if we can't even find the kid, right?"

"Harry's getting married," James said blankly, following him blindly. Sirius suddenly mourned their intangibility; it would have been more entertaining to see James crash into those doors and endtables rather than drifting through them. "Harry's getting married."

"To a girl, yes. I read the program, Prongs."

"He's just a kid!"

"He's twenty-four. You were eighteen," Sirius reminded him patiently, leaning in to listen to the excited chattering of several young girls in Hufflepuff colors. He'd gotten used to James's Harrytalk, and sympathized with the devoted, if neurotic, father separated by death from his son.

"But—"

"Bingo. The hall's this way. Merlin, this place is huge. They've invited all of Britain..." He scooted out of the way of a gaggle of redheaded witches in flowing dresses; while he could have walked through them, it felt odd and a little disrespectful.

He was just excited, if less nervous, than James about seeing Harry. His godson had been fifteen when he'd last seen the boy, scrawny and unsure about his place in the world, pulled in all directions by his unfair fate. He'd latched onto Sirius as a surrogate father almost as soon as they'd met, and he'd felt the loss of James then more acutely than ever.

The wedding excitement in the cathedral was infectious, and the two ghosts found themselves sprinting through the great stone halls. Rounding a corner, they suddenly spotted a familiar backside, stooping generously to amble through a low doorway.

"My god," James's mouth fell open before stretching into a cathartic grin. "Is that—"

"Hagrid!"

Sirius turned to look at the new voice—if new it was, bearing such a striking similarity to his friend's. James froze.

"'ello, Harry." Hagrid smiled massively, shoelace-sized wrinkles scrunching around his eyes. He looked old— he likely had a giant's longer lifespan, but he was well into middle age—but he welcomed Harry's flying hug like the man was a teddy bear, treetrunk arms enveloping him easily. "Don' you look righ' well off? Like a real gentleman, you are." One massive hand ruffled Harry's hair, at which the groom-to-be gave a frightened "Eep" and scurried over to a mirror in a vain attempt to fix it. Hagrid gave a booming laugh.

Sirius looked at James, who still hadn't quite remembered how to move. His eyes were fixed desperately on his son, his precious, beautiful son… and his lips had fallen open. As he watched, Sirius saw them shape silently around the name, "Harry…"

The boy did look stunning, he had to give him that. The white dress robes had probably cost a fortune, embroidered with needle-fine gold enchanted to drift slowly through the fabric. Golden clasps graced his throat and wrists, matching the narrow gold frames of his new glasses. Though he still could have passed for his father's doppelganger, Harry was older now than James had ever lived to be, faint creases only just beginning to spider over his face. But his smile, Sirius observed with a peculiar tightening in his ethereal chest, was brighter than he had ever seen it before; the smile of a man who no longer held the weight of the world.

Neither of them listened while the man and the giant made cheery conversation. Sirius slid an arm around his best mate's shoulders while James struggled to swallow the lump in his throat, grinning at him quietly. "Raised a good one, we did."

James made a faint choking sound. "He's beautiful, Pad…"

"Yeah, he is," Sirius replied, deciding that there would be plenty of time later to tease Prongs about the subtle mechanics of narcissism.

Plenty of time. Decades, really. Eons. Forever. The thought was absolutely fantastic.

"… but I couldn' very well bring 'er inside," Hagrid was saying. "So you'll have to come ou' after the wedding to get yer presen', Harry."

Harry looked at him warily. "Does my present, by any chance, breathe fire or eat raw, bloody meat? It's not that I didn't enjoy my birthday gift, Hagrid, but I don't think Ginny—"

Hagrid waves a massive hand dismissively. "Naw, naw, nothin' like tha'."

Pulling out his wand, Harry murmured a soft spell and conjured a smoky, floating timepiece. "There's still some time before the wedding. I could come out now, if you'd like. I was looking for someplace to hide from Molly and Hermione, anyway."

"E'cellent!" Boomed Hagrid. "Ye'll love 'er, Harry, solid promise, ye'll think me a great sod for not givin' 'er to y' sooner, jus' needed 'er, y'see…"

All three of them had to steadily canter to keep up with the half-giant's excited strides, and Sirius grinned at James as they followed the mismatched pair. "He's a hell of a lot calmer than you were."

James shot him a glare but couldn't in any reality deny it; he'd outright panicked half an hour before his wedding and apparated six blocks away. Sirius and Remus had had to march him back at wandpoint before Lily caught on, hunted them all down and turned them into citrus fruits.

"You think he loves this girl, Padfoot?"

"Well, I hope so. This is an awful waste of money if he doesn't," replied Sirius, gesturing to the solid gold candelabras hovering in the hallways. "Besides," he added quickly, grinning, before James had a chance to retort, "a Potter always marries his dream redhead. He's following tradition."

James gave him a very unfatherly hand gesture, but there was a smile in his eyes.

They alleyway outside the cathedral was just as old and stony, though significantly mossier. James took the moment to wonder exactly where this wedding was located—he'd almost expected it to be held at Hogwarts—but let the thought pass.

"Merlin, Hagrid… you didn't…"

The giant was obscuring their view, but the awe in Harry's voice tempted them to scurry through him to get a look at the elusive present. Sirius stopped dead, causing James to crash into him from behind. For a long moment, they were silent.

Then Sirius burst out laughing. "He did!"

Harry, eyes gleaming like a child, ran his hands over the massive black and chrome surface of a 1973 Vincent Black Shadow, touching the keys innocently placed in the ignition in reverent glee. James and Sirius were holding onto each other for support, laughing like madmen.

"Took a bit o' work," said Hagrid modestly. "Lots o' new parts, remodelin'… barely the same bike she use' t'be. Still flies a beauty, though."

"A bit? She was a wreck last time I saw her." Harry looked at his old teacher in childlike adoration. "Rubeus Hagrid, you are bloody fantastic."

Hagrid swelled even larger than usual in pride. "Ah jes' know yer godfather'd be wantin' ye to 'ave 'er now ye're all growed up."

"Damn right," said Sirius, wiping his eyes, "damn right."

"Thank you," Harry said, voice growing softer. "I'll take care of her." He traced the Shadow's handlebars, eyes glazing slightly in memory. After a moment, he grinned. "Ahh… wish I had time to take her for a ride now."

"Lily's gonna have kittens," James wheezed. They both cracked up a second time.

"Not t'worry, lad. Ah'll take 'er t' yer house after yer honeymoon. Jes' wanted ye to see 'er."

"Thanks, Hagrid. And thanks for taking care of her 'til now. Sirius couldn't have picked a better man." Harry disappeared into another giant hug as Sirius nodded in agreement.

All ears, dead and alive, pricked up at the sound of music suddenly booming in the cathedral. "Oh, bloody—" muttered Harry, eyes widening, "I'm going to be late!"

"Not today, ye' aren'. Run fer it!"

They ran for it.

At least three of the front rows were overwhelmed by an ocean of red hair as, no doubt, was every Weasley wedding in the past. Sirius and James seated themselves on the floor just next to the alter, but found themselves standing frequently for a better view. They recognized Molly, graying but still vibrant, glowing with pride; Bill and Charlie they'd known at Hogwarts; Sirius pointed out Percy and George, both seated next to women neither of them recognized, and Ron standing nervously in his position as best man. They excitedly identified a young boy with short purple spikes that could only be Remus and Tonks's son Theodore sitting quietly next to Sirius's aged cousin Andromeda.

They spent all the boring bits scouring the crowd for people they knew ("Back there, is that… McGonagall??? Merlin, she hasn't aged a day…"), guessing about the ones they didn't. Hermione Granger—now apparently also one of the Weasley clan, judging by the ring on her finger matching Ron's—was Ginny's Maid of Honor, beautiful in her white robes. Kingsley Shacklebot, Minister of Magic, was presiding. And there—"Is it honestly…?"—an absolute enigma to both of them, Draco and Obsidia Malfoy, chaperoned by Narcissa, were given a subtle berth by the crowd.

But James was most taken, causing Sirius to ease his friend's jaw shut not for the first time that day, by the bride.

Ginny floated by her father's side, a vision in white. Her dress was elegant in its simplicity—delicate shoulder straps, no veil, and an angelic gossamer shawl gracing her shoulders. Sirius chanced a glance at Harry. It was downright eerie how that face, so similar to James's, would bear the exact same expressions. He hoped someone was taking pictures. Harry's children would want to know what their father looked like as he gaped openmouthed on his wedding day…

The procession became a bit of a blur, literally; both Sirius and James hid discreet sniffles from each other, covering them up with coughs, wondering if ghosts had any real reason to cough.

Harry's voice sent a breathless hush over the crowd.

"I," his voice cracked slightly, and everyone pretended not to notice, "Harold James Potter, take you, Genevra, as my wife." Both he and James audibly swallowed. "I bind my life to you, and my soul to you, and my magic to you. This I do in love and in devotion, in life, and in death, forever."

"I, Genevra Molly Weasley, take you, Harry," she smiled coyly; nobody ever called him Harold anyway, "as my husband. I bind my life to you, and my soul to you, and my magic to you. This I do in love and in devotion, in life and in death, forever."

A tiny redheaded girl that could only be Hermione and Ron's scurried forward, stumbling a little, a glint of gold on each hand. Harry knelt to take the rings, kissing the girl on her forehead before she scurried off to join her family, grinning widely.

"With this ring," he said solemnly, taking his bride's hand and gazing at her with a passion that James could only describe as Gryffindor, "I thee wed."

"I thee wed," Ginny repeated, as lost in his eyes as he was in hers.

After a moment they both looked at Kingsley, who shrugged and gave a little gesture, mumbling "you know what to do" under his breath.

Harry smiled like the sun before he kissed her, and the entire cathedral erupted in cheers.

"Kid's even sappier than you were," Sirius said, wiping his eyes on his sleeve.

Sirius had explored the reception rather thoroughly, getting a feel for who was whom in the land of the living these days, knowing that Lily and Remus would want news. He memorized the features of Theodore Lupin, imagining the look in Moony's eyes when he described the boy to him, and wished vividly that he had a camera. James hadn't taken his eyes off Harry.

"Here," Sirius said, sliding to the floor beside him and handing him a glass of brandy. "If you concentrate hard enough, we can touch things. Still working on the drinking bit." James nodded with a smile, taking the brandy and swirling it around, expression thoughtful. Sirius followed his gaze, hit, not for the first time, with a tight feeling of nostalgia as he watched the lanky young man with the messy hair dance with his beautiful red-headed bride, completely lost in each other.

The Weasley boys were loud, drunk and happy, dancing with their partners of choice and switching off frequently. Sirius cracked a grin to see Charlie's hands on the waist of a tall dark-haired man, speaking quietly in Romanian and exchanging smiles. George was currently spinning Hermione in the air and had her laughing wildly, while Ron and Bill were performing some sort of odd quidditch victory dance surrounded by cheering spectators. Percy at one point whisked his sister away from Harry, trading for his soft-spoken blonde fiancé. Seven-year-old Theodore was clumsily dancing with Victorie Weasley under Andromeda's watchful eye. The Malfoys hadn't stayed for the party.

Over the past half hour, several crashes had been heard just outside the reception hall, and Sirius had gone to investigate. All the water in the kitchens had apparently been transfigured into butterbeer, and no one but Sirius seemed to be able to see the cackling, translucent figure causing the damage. He'd squinted disbelievingly. "Fred?"

The deceased teen and apparently newborn poltergeist had grinned, spun upside-down, and placed a finger to his lips. Then he'd vanished, and Sirius later spotted him hovering above his George, protecting him like a guardian spirit. Sirius whistled lowly under his breath. You'd never been able to separate those two…

As they watched in silence, James tore his eyes away from Harry in order to close them, leaning his head back to the wall with a small, melancholy smile.

"This… this is what I always wanted for him, Pad."

Sirius grinned, finally downing the brandy in one thirsty swallow. "That makes all of us, Prongs, my man."

James looked distant. "I wish I could tell him. How proud I am… we all are. I wish."

The cheer of the crowed swelled impressively as somebody shoved Harry into the quidditch dance to take Bill's place, and the two best friends stomped around like Vikings. Sirius propped his elbow on James's shoulder. "Now, don't go all gloomy on us. We'll see him soon enough."

James snorted. "When he's dead? I'm sure all my parental advice will go over wonderfully then."

"Hey, now. Dead guys have feelings too."

"Hmm." But he smiled slightly.

They sat in companionable silence for a while, watching as the excitement died down to a manageable level. The Orpheus Orb hovering near the ceiling began to play quieter music to which the lights dimmed accordingly, and couple by couple slowly drifted back to each other. Sirius found himself missing Moony, and vowed to do something equally romantic for him when he got back to… wherever exactly they resided now. He'd never heard it named.

James released a quiet sigh, resting his head on his arms. Sirius had to prod him so he didn't miss Harry discretely pulling out his wand and raising it above his head, murmuring a familiar incantation.

From its tip emitted a smoky silver cloud, which spun lazily above the crowd, formless, for several seconds. Slowly, without its usual haste, it melted into the shape of a great and powerful stag, leaping with utter silence and grace above their heads. Several murmurs were heard in response to its beauty, and the silver-lit lovers pulled each other close.

Sirius looked at his best friend and his brother in all but blood—and how meaningless was blood to the deceased…?—and watched James's eyes mist over with tears. Wrapping an arm around him, Sirius felt his pride in Harry Potter swell to unprecedented levels. He truly was his father's son.

"I think he knows, Prongs."

Almost everyone had filtered out of the grand hall, back to their homes, their lives, their loves. Harry and Ginny had left wrapped in each other's arms, and Sirius and James hadn't followed. They wondered where the newlyweds would go for their honeymoon. They wondered when Harry would get to fly the Shadow, and wished they could be there to see it. They even wondered about the apparent mending in the rift of the clans Potter and Malfoy, and resolved to drill Harry solidly on that one when he finally took the big leap.

They watched Weasley after Weasley exit; Arthur and Molly, Bill and Fleur, Victorie in reluctant tow, Charlie and his mysterious Romanian man, Ron, Hermione and Rose, George and his muggle wife. Andromeda followed carried a fast-asleep Theodore in her arms. Neville Longbottom, Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas, Padma Patil, Luna Lovegood-Smith, and other familiar faces slowly disappeared, taking the future with them.

James and Sirius felt an unpleasant tug in their stomachs just as the house-elves began moving about the deserted hall. Releasing a sigh, James opened his eyes. "Guess that's our cue to leave," he murmured. Sirius nodded, but neither of them moved.

"Lily'll wish she came," Sirius mumbled, feeling sleepy. "This was a heck of a lot better than the birth of another screamy icky Potterspawn."

"I have to agree," James replied, settling down more comfortably on the wall. The afterlife could come and get them. If that wasn't what it was doing, as they were both falling asleep rather suddenly.

"Good kid you got there, Prongs."

"Couldn't have done it without you. He's yours as much as mine."

"Aw, shucks." Sirius yawned, laying his head on top of James's. "He does rather have my astonishing intelligence and good looks."

"Padfoot?"

"Yes, Prongs?"

"Stuff it."

"Yes, Prongs. G'night."

"See you on the other side, brother."