Note: Props go as usual to Kateydidnt who is, as always, the first one to read this either in the wee hours of the night or after I've typed up a few pages at her house. Last night, she whipped me into shape and helped a great deal with dialogue.
CHAPTER 7
Ambrose was in her usual spot on the east end of the pitch, signing souvenir bludgers and taking photos with anyone who would ask for one. The crowd parted, since most of the fans who hung around her were the type to respect Harry, but we kept back until the crowd had thinned considerably. This, of course, meant that Harry had to shake twenty hands and take five photos with the usual type who wanted proof that they had hung around a Quidditch stadium with the man who defeated Lord Voldemort. Harry took it with his usual slightly exasperated good humor and by the time the last fan had left, we were nearly alone.
It was then that Adelaide Ambrose turned and spotted us. The hand that had been signing Ambrose with a flourish instead scribbled absent-mindedly somewhere to the left of the Quaffle.
"Miss Ambrose," Harry said politely, "I'm Harry and this is my fiancee, Ginny."
She responded with a completely untranslatable "Yeaaghennrnnheeeeeeeeeeee..." that might have been a "Nice to meet you" or a Gobbledegook curse and sort froze in shock.
"First, brilliant job in the game tonight," he said, just in case she thought he didn't know her. "Really, that one save off Saddlemore was one of the best I've seen."
"Nnnnnnnnnnghhhhhhhhhh," Ambrose wheezed in response.
If this was how she was going to be for the wedding, I would just as soon let a disgruntled merman do the honors. He would probably be more coherent.
"But actually, we're here for a different reason," Harry concluded before Ambrose could swallow her own tongue. "See, we've decided to elope tonight and we thought it would be great if you... Are you all right?"
Ambrose was doubled over and muttering "Can't breathe!"
In exasperation, I conjured a brown paper bag and handed it over. Harry considerately waited a few minutes so she could catch her breath. Finally, flushed and looking vaguely shell-shocked, she straightened up.
"Go on," she encouraged shakily. "You were saying?"
"Yes," I said. "I heard you were a justice of the peace and we were wondering if you'd marry us."
She still looked a bit punch-drunk, but she grinned broadly. "I'd love to," she blurted out. "You want to do it now?"
Now, that was a tricky question. There were enough people around that the Daily Prophet would probably hear about the moment we finished. I didn't want Mum to hear about our wedding from Rita Skeeter or anyone of that sort.
"Well, we do need to make a few preparations," I stated.
"Such as picking your bridesmaids," Maggie teased me.
"And your best man," Frank added. "You got to have one of 'em."
"Well, he's not my first choice, but Mr. Marks is the only one around here who didn't brain me with a program," Harry pointed out. "He'll do in a pinch."
"In a pinch?" Lilian scoffed. "We're practically family, you know."
Harry grimaced at that and I remembered that all he had was a group of people who fell into the category of "practically family." I, on the other hand, had five remaining siblings who would have various reactions to the fact that they hadn't been invited. From the look on his face, he was thinking the same thing.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Harry asked quietly. "I'm perfectly willing to wait until tomorrow..."
"Are you trying to back out?" I challenged in my very best Mum/Quidditch Captain voice.
"Not at all," he protested. "I just...well, I know how much your family means to you. If you want them here, we can hold off a bit."
It was very sweet and typical of Harry to think of that. I rewarded his thoughtfulness with a very affectionate kiss, then pulled back and patted him lightly on the cheek.
"We're not waiting."
Harry kept one arm over my shoulders as we turned back to Ambrose. She had finally remembered how to form complete sentences, but was still watching us as if we were an extremely entertaining play.
"We're doing this now," he said firmly.
"Brilliant," Ambrose answered. "Now, I've got a few parchments you've got to sign before we can get on with this. We could even do it in the locker room if you fancy some privacy."
Now, that would be a story to tell the grandkids—how we eloped in the Cannons' locker room the same season that they finally won the League. I turned to Harry to encourage the idea, but stopped at a glint in his eye.
"I've got a better idea," he announced.
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"You're home a bit late."
I suspected that my mother was never quite going to grasp the fact that all of her children were now adults. She still enjoyed being the disapproving Mum who waited up for us.
"Sorry, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said politely. "The cannons won 340-330 in a very exciting game and we got caught up in a bit of the celebrating."
Mum sniffed immediately as if she could smell firewhiskey on our breaths, but she had no idea what exactly our version of 'celebrating' had been. God willing, she wouldn't for a few days.
"Fancy a spot of tea before bed?" she offered once she'd assured herself that we hadn't done anything unseemly like getting raucously drunk. "I was about to put on the kettle."
"No, thanks, Mum," I said hastily. "Are Ron and Hermione still up?"
"They just played a very loud game of Wizarding chess," she sighed. "Honestly, that boy and his games."
Well, we Weasleys all had a bit of a competitive streak. It's what got us into most of our messes in the first place.
"I'll tell them to keep it down," I lied.
"All right then," Mum said. "Good night."
I let go of Harry's hand long enough to give her a quick goodnight hug and a peck on the cheek. Harry let her squeeze him affectionately and then followed me upstairs without another word.
Ron was sprawled on my bed, feet kicking the wall as he contemplated the fate of his king's bishop. Hermione looked up with a smile as soon as we entered; she was probably grateful for the distraction.
"Hi, there," she said brightly. "Did you have a good game?"
"Brilliant," Harry said enthusiastically. "You should have seen the end of the game. I haven't seen something that wild since the Quidditch World Cup."
Ron rolled dramatically onto his back and let out a wordless groan. "And i missed all the excitement," he groused. "How do you get all the luck?"
"I'm dating your sister," Harry pointed out. "I think good luck comes with the territory."
He was definitely feeling sentimental. Hermione looked vaguely envious that there was a male out there who knew how to say sweet things without much prompting. Ron rolled his eyes at the fact that anyone was being all soppy and romantic over his little sister.
"Besides," I added as soon as Ron had moved his bishop, "you didn't miss all the excitement."
"Oh, no?" Hermione asked blandly, regarding a pawn. "Did you bring back the Cannons for a replay?"
I nearly laughed at how close she was to the truth. "Come on," I invited. "We wanted to take a walk."
Ron and Hermione, used to bizarre requests from anyone associated with Harry, did very little arguing. Hermione pulled on her overcoat over her flannel nightgown and stuffed her feet into a pair of trainers. Ron mostly layered things over his pajamas while plying Harry for information. By the time he had finished bundling up, Harry had told him about everything but the bet. We cracked the back window open and started climbing out without further explanation. Luckily, Ron and Hermione trusted us enough to follow.
"So," Hermione asked pointedly as soon as we had climbed down the trellis to the back garden and were tiptoeing towards the gate, "where are we going, exactly?"
"Well, we'll have to Apparate there," I explained. "It's a bit of a walk."
Ron and Hermione exchanged very nervous looks, but eventually seemed to decide that we weren't the sort to play pranks in three inches of snow after midnight. They were far too trusting, but it was only a short Apparate to the hill overlooking Ottery St. Catchpole.
We arrived between the Darymples and the Markses, but that little hilltop was getting quite crowded and Hermione looked suspicious at the motley crew of people who had turned up on half an acre of patchy grass.
"What's this all about, then?" she demanded. "Are we off on some sort of expedition and are you expecting many more?"
Pragmatic Hermione was probably wondering more about whether she should have packed a good book than whether or not we were up to no good.
"Only one more," Charlie informed her. "Adelaide said she'd be along in a moment..."
That was a bit of an understatement. Before either Ron or Hermione could speculate on who Adelaide was, the entire team Apparated practically on top of us.
"Hope you don't mind," Ambrose said cheerfully. "When I told the others where I was going instead of the victory party, they insisted on tagging along."
Fairbanks turned to Ron and extended a hand. "I expect you're the brother of the bride, then?"
Hermione gasped loudly, but Ron blurted out "Brother of the what?"
I glanced at Harry. Harry shrugged at me. I looked to Ambrose in hopes that she would take the lead.
"As I understand it, Harry and Ginny decided to elope tonight."
"During the game," Maggie added.
"On a bet," Lilian concluded.
"Really," Gregorovitch said. "He think we not win or something?"
"Something like that," Harry said sheepishly. "I thought it was a pretty good deal. She would marry me tonight if her favorite team won. I had honorable intentions."
"Honorable intentions, Merlin's beard," Ron snorted, his ears looking red even in the moonlight. "You do realize Mum's going to kill us, right?"
"Mum will get over it," I insisted. "We'll take our chances with her temper for now."
Hermione had gone from gasping to glowing and was looking as if she had just finished reading a lovely fairytale. "Oh, Ginny," she sighed. "I can't believe it'll just be the lot of us..."
"From the looks of it, you invited the whole stadium," Ron pointed out.
He was getting surly, but I couldn't tell if it was because he was annoyed with the situation or if he was mad at himself for not having guessed the secret before.
"You don't mind, do you?" Harry asked in a respectful tone, suddenly the outsider asking for acceptance. "If you really think this is a bad idea..."
Then we'll Apparate somewhere else and get married in a marsh in Mauritania.
Ron shook his head and ran a hand through his hair once, twice and then three times. "You know Mum's going to kill us."
"I know," I agreed, "but we want to do this and we wouldn't have gone ahead without you two."
Ron finally stopped looking as if he'd swallowed a double dose of Skelegro and grinned before punching Harry lightly in the arm. "You're braver than I am," he commended him.
With that settled, Hermione did a good impression of a boa constrictor and nearly hugged the life out of me.
"Oh, I wish we'd known," she lamented. "I shouldn't be at your wedding in my nightclothes and trainers."
"At least you changed out of your fluffy slippers," Ron chortled.
The bride and groom weren't much better. I was in my jeans, Christmas jumper and topcoat and Harry was wearing a Cannons jacket over a t-shirt and jeans. Of course it wouldn't do for a Weasley and a Potter to do things the normal way.
"Are we ready, then?" Ambrose asked, rubbing her hands together to keep them warm.
"Definitely," Harry said. "The witnesses have to sign the certificate."
"Ron, Hermione," I prompted.
Hermione was past her exuberant phase and was getting weepy at the thought of her best friends getting married, but she managed not to cry on the wedding certificate. Their serving as witnesses served a dual purpose—we would always remember the most important people who had turned up for the ceremony and if Mum needed someone to blame, she could start there.
"Dear friends," Ambrose began as Harry took my hand in a vise-like grip. "We are gathered here in the presence of these witnesses, many good people and six squirrels to bear witness to the union of two noble souls, Harry James Potter and Ginevra Molly Weasley."
My heart started racing and the urge to smile took over my face so that by the time she got to the end of her speech about "uniting in purpose and in love," I was grinning like an idiot. I quickly glanced at Harry and was relieved to see he was looking just as wonderfully goofy.
"Are there any reason that those here can think of that these two should not be wed?"
"Your Mum's going to kill us," Harry murmured with a wink.
"Mum's going to kill us," Ron agreed.
"Mrs. Weasley doesn't have to know just yet," Hermione said in a moment of uncharacteristic deviousness.
Ambrose paused and looked suspiciously at the bride, groom and supposedly supportive friends. "Are those objections?"
"No," I said hastily. "Just valid observations. Go on."
There was a good deal of tittering from the guests and Frank muttered something that I didn't want to translate.
"Harry James Potter," Ambrose said finally, "do you take Ginevra Molly Weasley to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, in health and in hexes, for richer or for poorer, when with Muggles and magic folk alike, whether or not the Cannons are on top of the League, for as long as you both shall live?"
It wasn't exactly the conventional vow, but it was the kind of question you could ask reasonably on a wintry hilltop at midnight. Harry didn't hesitate but a heartbeat before answering.
"I do."
Hermione blew her nose noisily and was echoed by Charlie, Lilian and Maggie in three part harmony. Typical.
"And do you, Ginevra Molly Weasley, take Harry James Potter to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, in health and in hexes, for richer or for poorer, when with Muggles and magic folk alike, whether or not he believes we'll take the League, for as long as you both shall live?"
"I do," I said immediately.
"Then I declare you bonded for life," Ambrose said solemnly. "You may k..."
Neither of us bothered to wait for the end of that sentence. Our first kiss as husband and wife reminded me, of all things, of the haphazard, furious kiss that we had finally shared after the Quidditch final in his sixth year. It was without fear and without reservations, just as our love would always be.
It was not the way Mum would have wanted it, but it was perfect all the same.
