Harry Potter eagerly grabbed his formal dress robes from the wardrobe on his way from the bedroom to the living room. His best friend Ron Weasley was already waiting for him, sprawled on the sofa, red hair mussed as if he had been recently raking his fingers through it.
"Ron, you ready?" Harry asked, plucking the house keys from a dish on the buffet and tossing them onto the coffee table in front of the sofa. Ron didn't visibly react.
"Ron?" Harry asked, stepping in front of his best friend.
"Harry…" Ron said slowly, looking rather lost and almost melancholy. "You're getting married."
A large grin broke out on the green-eyed man's face. "I know!" he said.
"But Harry," Ron repeated. "You're getting married."
Harry hmm-ed cheerfully, face softening into a more dopey grin as he thought of his future bride; her long red hair flowing down her back, her chocolate brown eyes glowing with happiness as she'd approach him on her father's arm…
"No Harry," Ron said, brow furrowed. "You're getting married."
"Yes Ron, I know," Harry replied. Still smiling, he pulled Ron up by his arm and, picking up the house keys, slid them into the taller man's pocket. "Don't forget to give the keys to Hermione." With that, he led the redhead to the fireplace, where he threw in some Floo powder, green flames roaring to life immediately, and gave Ron a gentle push towards it.
Sighing morosely, Ron stepped into the fire and said, in a clear voice, "The Burrow!" As the green flames died down, Harry added another pinch of powder for his own journey to his fiancé's home. The green flames sprung up once more and he stepped into them, shouting out his destination and squeezing his eyes shut as he was whirled around.
He stumbled out of the grate, the green flames ejecting his carelessly. Then, with only a high-pitched shriek as his warning, he was immediately wrapped into a hug by Hermione, her still-bushy hair partially obscuring his vision.
"Oh Harry! This is so wonderful!" she gushed, grinning against his cheek.
"Wonderful," he heard Ron repeat glumly from somewhere behind the bushy hair.
Hermione pulled away to glare her husband down. "Oh hush, Ronald. You knew Ginny had to grow up sometime."
"No she didn't," he muttered sulkily. Scowling at his wife's unrelenting glare, he added, "At least you're better than Dean."
Harry opted to chuckle instead of scowling himself. "Thanks mate. Means a lot to me."
Hermione just rolled her eyes and pushed both men towards the stairs. "Come on, Harry. You need to get dressed. And Ron…" She didn't finish her sentence but Harry could just feel the look she was giving to her unlucky husband.
Holding back a snicker at his chastised best friend, Harry made his way up the stairs to Ron's old room, where he'd prepare. Ron followed. Ginny would probably be in her own room, with Mrs. Weasley and Hermione helping her, along with Fleur perhaps. They had chosen to have their wedding at the Burrow because… well, why not? They had both agreed Grimmauld Place was out of the question, as was Godric's Hollow, and the Burrow was home to both of them. Hogwarts could also be considered a home, at least for Harry, but the memories of the Battle were still too fresh in his mind.
Opening the door, Harry was surprised to see that the room was still the same as it had been years ago, minus the camp bed that he had always slept in when he came over. It was still bright orange, with faded Chudley Cannons posters on the walls, the now retired players grinning at him as they swooped around in the air…
They dressed in silence. Harry was unsure of what to say, since Ron still seemed so sour over his marriage to Ginny, even though they'd been going out for more than three years and had been engaged for more than one.
Smoothing out non-existent wrinkles in his robes, Harry moved towards the mirror and, fishing a vial out of his pocket, poured some of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion on his fingers and set to work. It did help to flatten his hair, just a little, but he still felt better after using it. Ron stood next to his bed, staring at Harry's reflection with a faraway look on his freckled face. His eyes suddenly snapped into focus as Harry winced at a knot, and he opened his mouth to speak.
"Look, mate," he started, obviously uncomfortable. "I know you'll take care of Ginny, but you know…" he paused, suddenly finding his newly polished shoes very interesting. "She's my kid sister. I don't want to see her sad, or hurt, or –"
(Or with a bloke at all)
"I know, Ron," Harry said, feeling as if he had said this too many times already. "And plus," he added cheekily. "Do you really think I'd intentionally hurt her just to have her brothers and father come after me?"
A pink flush settled over Ron's cheeks. "Well…no."
Their eyes met for a moment and they both burst out laughing.
"Sorry, mate," Ron said once their mirth had died down. "It was stupid of me."
"No, Ron. 'Stupid' will be when you try to stop me and Gin from going on our honeymoon," Harry said matter-of-factly. Ron's face immediately became stony.
"Honeymoon? No Harry! My sister will stay a virgin until the day she dies!"
"Erm, Ron …" Harry started. He was unsure if he should tell him that he and Ginny had already—
"NO!" Ron shrieked, clamping his hands over his ears and running from the room. Not bothering to try and contain his laughter, Harry turned back to the mirror and continued working on his hair. Finally deciding that it wouldn't lie any flatter, he sat on Ron's old bed and looked at his watch. There was still about thirty minutes to go before the wedding started. So he laid back, hands behind his head and eyes on the ceiling, wondering if Ginny had asked for lilies in her bouquet. Harry hadn't been involved in her dress choosing either, though he had thought quite frequently about what she'd have underneath it…
A large, sudden crash from downstairs jerked him from his lustful thoughts.
"Ron!" came Mrs. Weasley's screech. "Oh dear, the cake!"
A snicker made its way past his lips as Harry imagined Mrs. Weasley catching Ron stuffing his face with wedding cake. Idly Harry thought about how the cake might look. Was it white? Was it tall? Did it have little figurines of the bride and groom like in Muggle films or would it have model phoenixes on it like at Bill and Fleur's wedding?
Frowning, Harry tried to remember the various details he and Ginny had decided on. Did the glasses have the golden patterns on them? Had they wanted goblin-made wine or elf-made? Was Hermione supposed to wear a string of pearls?
(Damn. These are questions I should have answered.)
He turned his head, looking towards the door, gentle chattering reaching his ears.
(Well, it wouldn't hurt to find out.)
He rose, straightening his robes, and in three steps had reached the door. Grasping the brass handle, he twisted the knob and pulled the door open. Noise claimed his ears. Walking forward and looking over the banister, he noticed that there were many more people downstairs than when he had Floo-ed in. Mr. Weasley had told him that the Minister of Magic and many high-ranking Ministry officials were likely to come; well, he was the defeater of Voldemort after all!
He descended the stairs slowly. He was pleased to see that he recognized most of the people downstairs. About three-quarters of the way down, Mrs. Weasley spotted him from where she was replacing a large chunk of missing cake.
"Oh Harry, dear," she called, instantly attracting the attention of everyone in the room. They all started giving shouts of congratulations before Mrs. Weasley's glare silenced them. "You shouldn't be down here. You might see Ginny." She paused. "It's bad luck you know." The varying guests gave nods of agreement.
"Can't I just avert my eyes if I do?" Harry asked. "I just want to see if everything looks as well as we envisioned."
She gave him a motherly frown. "Go back upstairs, Harry." And she turned back to her cake, which Harry noticed was tall and white, but with the little phoenixes on top instead of the bride and groom that he had imagined.
Harry gave a sort of half pout before turning around and ascending the stairs. Trudging back into Ron's room, he sat back down on Ron's bed, staring at different things. Looking at his discarded casual robes, he decided to fold them up. So he rose, picked them up and laid them on the bed for folding. Encountering a large lump in the right pocket, he was suddenly reminded that he always kept his Invisibility Cloak on him, in case of an emergency.
Taking it out carefully and watching the silvery material unfold, Harry chewed on his lower lip, contemplating his choice.
(I shouldn't.)
But after just a few moments his curious side won out, and he tossed the Cloak over his head. He opened the door slowly, to make sure there was no one that might become suspicious of a door opening by itself, and crept out.
Casting a quick Silencing Charm on himself, he went down the stairs slowly, pausing on each landing and peeking around the corners to make sure he stayed undetected. As he looked around the corner of the first floor, he was surprised to see that Ginny's door was open. He crept forward, and cautiously looked in. Harry suddenly found himself unable to breathe. Ginny was simply stunning, smiling to herself gently as Hermione carefully applied powder to her already glowing cheeks. Her white dress puffed around her chair and trailed on the floor.
Hermione gave a tiny sigh and stepped back to admire her handiwork. Harry started to inch closer, breath held. Ginny raised a hand to gently pull a stray hair from her face and wrap it into the small bun on the back of her head. Then, taking in a deep breath, she stood and stepped around her chair so she could turn and look at herself in the mirror that hung on the opposite wall. She took a few steps closer, nearly walking into Harry in the process. He quickly sidestepped her and stood between her and Hermione.
"Oh no!" said Hermione suddenly. Ginny looked at her in alarm.
"What is it?" she asked. Worriedly she whipped back to the mirror.
"Some of the lace detailing is coming off." Ginny searched her dress frantically. "No, in the back." Ginny peered over her shoulder, and fingered a bit of lace just above her buttocks, frowning. "I'll get it." Hermione went over to the bed and picked up her purse to fish her wand out. Coming back towards Ginny, she cast a Sticking Charm on the lace, then started to move back to put her wand back.
"No, wait," said Ginny, still frowning at the now-stuck lace. "I don't want to chance it coming off later. Can you use a Permanent Sticking Charm?"
Hermione shrugged. "Sure." She cast the charm from where she was standing. Unfortunately, Harry was still between them, entranced by his wife-to-be. The spell came and hit his Cloak, and immediately started molding itself to his body. Startled, Harry started flailing around in an attempt to un-stick the Cloak, while still trying to be quiet so the girls wouldn't hear him.
"That's strange," Hermione's voice came, startling him out of his panic. "I've never had problems casting it before. Well, only at the beginning, but…"
"Try again," interrupted Ginny. Harry hurriedly stepped out of the way this time. The lace pressed itself closer to the dress. "See? It's fine." She smoothed down the front of her gown. Hermione sat on the bed, eyes on her friend, who let out a softly shuddering breath as she regarded herself.
"So?" Hermione asked, a tiny smile on her face. "Are you ready?"
"Yes," Ginny said after only a moment's pause. "I think so." After another moment she added, "I only wish there were less Ministry people."
"Yes, it's awful they've decided to make this a nearly public event. But they've done it before to important people, that's the first thing I read up on when the Minister said he'd be coming, so they consider themselves justified…" Harry was out of the room at this point, still attempting to throw the molded cloak off. Thrashing around wildly, he accidently hit his hand against the banister. Muffling his cry of pain by biting down, hard, on his lower lip, he quickly descended the stairs to the ground floor.
The first thing he needed to do was find Ron. He would help him get the Cloak off. So he started looking around for the redhead, dodging the various people that came too close. Not finding his friend anywhere in the kitchen or living room, he went outside to search, a small amount of dread welling up in his stomach. If Ron was outside, there would be so many more people to search through, so many more people to avoid, so many more chances of Ron talking to someone, which would make it so much harder to get his attention…
Growling under his breath, Harry ducked past one man greeting Luna. Dodging and ducking some more, he eventually paused, feeling frustrated.
Out of nowhere, a floating bottle of champagne slammed into his head. Harry doubled over in pain, swearing over and over again in his mind. He clutched at his now throbbing head, and twisted himself around to glare at the offending bottle. The watery sunlight just shone off it innocently as it continued through the crowd.
Harry continued rubbing his head, hoping it wouldn't swell too much. He started searching again. As a Ministry employee and his date walked past him, he caught a flash of red hair towards the right. Spotting Ron talking to George near the food table, he quickly made his way over.
"…I still don't like the idea!" Ron was saying, an angry flush on his neck.
"But Ron, it's—"
"Yes, I know it's Harry! Yes, I know he won't hurt her! But it's still..! It's just..!" Ron gave a frustrated huff, while to his left Harry gave a frustrated roll of the eyes. Was he still going on about that? Hadn't he, Harry, not complained once when Ron had married Hermione, who was like a sister to him? Hadn't he, Harry, even offered to help them with their wedding plans, instead of locking himself in his room and sulking for a day?
"Ron, Harry's practically family. It'll be fine. Besides, you'll get used to the idea eventually, you know, watching them snog and all." George grinned and clapped his brother on the back, walking away.
Harry now hesitated about going to Ron. Since Ron was already so uncomfortable with a wedding that would go according to plan, he would surely be worse if he knew Harry had gotten himself into a mess?
(He might even take this chance to try and call off the wedding)
Oh dear.
So Harry ran after George, nearly crashing into Neville on the way. But he quickly saw that George had been engaged in conversation by his father.
Utterly exasperated now, Harry went off to stand in a corner, where it'd be less likely to be crashed into by someone, or worse, more alcohol.
He started to make a mental list of the people he could ask for help. He couldn't ask Ron, and he knew Hermione would exclaim and scold and lecture, especially if she found out just why he had been using the Cloak in the first place. Same for Mrs. Weasley, although he figured Hermione might have a better chance of removing the Charm, because of her vast repertoire of spells. Ginny was out of the question as well, because…well, perhaps seeing his bride twice before the wedding would bring even more bad luck?
He let out a tiny groan at this thought. He told himself that he couldn't imagine it getting worse, but he quickly stopped.
(I mean, Death Eaters could come and attack, Ron could get drunk and demand we stop the wedding, Ginny could suddenly decide she wants to marry someone else… hell, I might not be able to get this stupid Cloak off in time!)
He resisted the urge to knock his head against the nearby wall, settling instead to sigh. He continued his list.
He could perhaps ask one of his old Hogwarts friends, he mused, watching Neville bite into a shrimp puff. But Neville had never been too good at spell work. Luna…he wasn't sure if she'd know how either. Ernie Macmillian, whom Harry remembered seeing on the guest list, could help…if pomposity could pump the Cloak off, sure…
Harry sighed again, running his Cloaked hand over his face. It was a strange feeling.
George he could ask. Or Bill. Both were skilled wizards and neither would raise too much of a fuss. At least, he hoped. George, he knew, would laugh and tease him about wanting to see Ginny before she was dressed…er, ready!
The hard part would be getting their attention without arousing the suspicion (or paranoia) of the surrounding guests. But even that was easy, right?
(WRONG) the voice in his head shouted, but he ignored it.
He came from his corner cautiously, and started his search for one of the older redheads. Bill he found in his seat, next to Fleur, who was positively glowing as her husband stroked her swollen belly tenderly. Not wanting to disturb their privacy, or be attacked by a hormonal Veela, he slunk away to find George.
Confusingly enough, Harry couldn't find George. Reasoning that the prankster might have gone to his old room, he headed inside. On the ground floor there were many more people than before. Mostly ex-Order members, with some old Hogwarts students, and a few he didn't recognize at all. But no George. So he went up the stairs. Checking on the landing of the first floor as usual to avoid people, he stifled a groan as he saw George speaking to Ginny. He quickly turned around.
(Damn! I saw Ginny again! I hope nothing happens-)
"Everyone please take your seats. The wedding is about to begin," came a Sonorus-amplified voice.
Harry didn't bother stifling his groan this time. Turning back around, he barely stepped out of Ginny's way in time as she exited. Even with the veil that covered her face she looked radiant. Turning towards George, who was following his sister out, and taking in a deep, nervous breath, he tapped him on the shoulder.
George instantly stiffened, turning around slowly, every muscle in his coiled body screaming caution and readiness to attack. Even when he saw nothing behind him his posture remained rigid.
"George?" Harry tried. The redhead did not visibly react. "George? Can you hear me?" Still no reaction.
(Damn) he thought, as he remembered casting a Silencing Charm on himself to evade detection.
(Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!)
And he couldn't even reach his wand to cast the Counter Jinx, since the large Cloak was molded to him completely.
Hands quivering in anger, or frustration, he couldn't be bothered to tell, Harry tapped the still tense George on the shoulder again. The effect was instantaneous. The redhead somehow managed to grab hold of Harry's body, despite it's invisibility. He slammed him into the nearby wall, a furious glint in his eyes.
"Who are you?" George all but growled. "What do you want?"
"I'm Harry! Let me go!" Harry shouted. But no sound came from his moving lips and George could not hear him. "Damn it George! Would I have tapped you on your bloody shoulder if I was a Death Eater?"
George did seem to realize Harry's point, despite not being able to hear it. So he ran his hands from Harry's sides to his shoulders to his hands, checking his captive for a wand, frowning all the while. Taking Harry's wrists and holding them above his head against the wall with one hand, George's other hand went back to his side, where he gave the Cloak a tug, frowning deeper when he couldn't even take a fistful of material. Keeping Harry's wrists above his head, George took out his wand and uttered the Body-Bind Curse. His eyebrows nearly shot into his hairline as the spell ricocheted off the Cloak, bounced off a wall, and fizzed out.
(STUPID CLOAK IS IMPERVIOUS TO BODY-BINDS BUT NOT STICKING CHARMS?)
"It's a Sticking Charm! Please!" Harry yelled, trying desperately not to struggle lest he provoke George. His wedding! His beautiful Ginerva! What she must be feeling now, not seeing her groom waiting for her!
"What in the world…" George was muttering. "I swear, if this is some sort of prank…"
"No! Not a prank! Help me!"
From his position he could partially see the ceremony through Ginny's window. She was standing in front of the wizard who was conducting the ceremony
(by herself! Oh!)
The few guests that he could see where all shifting in their seats, waiting for the groom.
George now seemed to be at a loss as of what to do. "Stupefy!" he cast. That too ricocheted off the Cloak, glanced off the opposite wall and hit…George.
"Er…" Harry started, as George suddenly stilled and crumpled to the floor. He scowled. "I have to do everything myself, don't I?" So he picked up George's wand and said, "Finite Incantatem." He had to try several times before achieving any results, seeing as the spell was non verbal.
"I can speak!" he shouted with glee as the spell finally took effect. "And now for the Cloak!"
He pointed George's wand at the figure on the floor. "Enervate!"
George did not react for a moment. Harry was reconsidering casting the spell again when the redhead suddenly gave a quiet groan and rolled over to his side.
"George!" Harry said. The older man's head came up slowly, his brow furrowed.
"Coming Mum…" he muttered.
"No George, up here!" George stilled and looked around confusedly, brows raising. Seeing no one, he rubbed his eyes.
"George!" Harry barked. This time his head shot up, and turned around wildly. He suddenly stopped at the sight of his wand floating in midair. He stared at in for a few moments, eyes wide, before taking in a deep breath to scream—
"George!" Harry repeated sharply. "Get up!"
"O-ok," the redhead stuttered, leaping up onto his feet, hands half up in surrendering gesture, eyeing the floating wand with trepidation.
"George, it's me, Harry!" Harry said when George hadn't taken his eyes off the wand after a few seconds. George started, eyes shifting in nervousness.
"Honest! It's me!" Harry held out the redhead's wand, offering it back. George gulped.
"No, I'm not going to hurt you. Take the wand!" He slowly reached out and grasped the wand, pulling it out of Harry's loose grip.
Swallowing uncomfortably, George said, "Erm, Harry?"
"Yes?"
"Why are you invisible?" His eyes suddenly brightened. "Are you going to play a prank on our ickle Ronnikins?"
"No, it was an—"
"Because you know I haven't been able to get him for a while, our little know-it-all has eyes like a hawk…and the screech of a –"
"George! I need help! You see…" And so Harry launched into a quick version of what had been done. At the end, George didn't even try and contain his laughter.
"You…" he wheezed between laughs. "You…did what!"
"It's not funny!" Harry protested, feeling his face heat up. "I need you to get this off…"
"Oh…oh…" George wheezed, gasping for breath. "If I had done such a thing Mum and Angie would have killed—" he stopped abruptly as he realized what would happen. He turned towards Harry with wide eyes.
"Yes! Your mother, and Ginny will kill me for this! Not to mention Hermione! And Ron..!"
"Yep. Ickle Ronnikins will hit the roof," the redhead agreed, completely unconcerned.
"So help me!"
George shook his head sadly. "No can do, mate. Permanent Sticking Charm? It is called Permanent for a reason…"
"No…" Harry whispered, horrified. "There must be a way…"
"We could ask St. Mungo's, but you'd have to reschedule the wedding and all…Mum will be terribly disgruntled, so will Ginny…"
"What about Bill? Couldn't he do something?"
"I don't know. We were never interested in curse-breaking, see…"
"Just go ask him!" Harry shouted, desperate.
"Alright, then." And George apparated with a loud crack.
The small minute George was gone seemed like several hours to Harry. He nervously chewed his lip, rushing to Ginny's window to see her, only to turn away so he couldn't see her disappointment, groaning in sadness and frustration. What if the Cloak couldn't be removed?
He was so caught up in his musings that he didn't even hear the Apparation crack that signaled the return of George with Bill.
"Harry?" came Bill's voice.
His head shot up and he ran back out into the hallway. "Bill! Oh, you've got to help me! Please!"
"Woah," the curse-breaker murmured lowly. "So George wasn't kidding after all…"
"I'll mark it on your calendar," the prankster replied cheekily.
"Indeed, it's a date to remember."
"WHAT?"
"I meant for your wedding, Harry, of course."
"I don't care. Can you get this thing off me or not?"
"Maybe. I don't know. Who cast the spell?"
"Hermione."
"Of course," muttered George.
"It's possible. Granted, the Cloak might rip, or some of your hair or skin might come off
(WHAT)
, but that's quite a small price to pay, isn't it?"
"Yeah…sure."
"So do you want to, or..?"
"Yes! Do it!"
"Ok, where are you?"
"I'm in front of you!"
"Where in front of me?"
"Right here in front of you—that's my foot!"
"Ah, okay. Sorry."
So Bill started circling Harry slowly, muttering a spell smoothly under his breath, waving his wand in a sort of figure eight motion, punctuated now and then by a jab. George backed out of the hall as not to be in the way. After a few moments of anticipation, breath held, Harry started feeling a strange sort of pulling on his face and hair. A few seconds later he could feel his clothes being pulled away from his body as well.
"Erm…Bill?"
Bill didn't respond, just continued circling. The tugging became more insistent, and more painful. He let out a small cry as he felt a patch of Cloak on his cheek un-stick, taking with it a thin bit of skin.
Bill still didn't stop his looping. Over and over again, the Cloak was forced off bit by bit. Harry's throat hurt from his cries. His face and hands were on fire.
Suddenly, the Cloak was torn off his figure with an almighty riiiiip and fell slowly to the floor. The light glinted off the silvery material rather maliciously.
Harry's eyes were wide as saucers and he held up his hands to look at them. Grinning gleefully, he dropped them and looked down on his body, twisting around to see all of himself. He gave a whoop of joy and caught Bill in a friendly man-hug.
"I can see myself! I can see my—Oh!" He froze up suddenly, then made a mad dash towards the stairs. "MY WEDDING!" He went down the stairs as quickly as he could, rushed through the living room, and burst through the back door. All eyes were on him in a second, but the only ones he was concentrated on were the chocolate brown ones of his fiancé. Body no longer under his control, he walked towards her slowly, but purposefully. As if in a trance, he took her hands in his and whispered genuinely, "I'm sorry."
Ginny's eyes glittered with tears and her chin trembled as she swallowed. Her hand was suddenly in the air, and she gave his cheek a hard slap. His head was thrown to the side from the force of her arm.
"Where were you?" she demanded, hurt.
"It was an accident," he mumbled sheepishly. Mustering back his courage, he met her eyes again. "Marry me, Gin?"
"Stupid git," she whispered affectionately, and took his hand back in hers. Smiling, they walked forwards towards the wedding conductor.