"There's no real point in a stag party if you're both blokes, is there?" Neville asks me above the rush of noise in the Muggle club Ron's taken us to, along with George, David Dutton, Dean, and Seamus, who surprised us by showing up this morning at the Burrow.

"Well, we both appreciate the female form, right? Maybe there'll be a stripper or something."

"Ron's married, Dean's engaged, George is taken, and Seamus, well, he might be the lone holdout."

"Doesn't seem like Seamus has enough pull to get a stripper, having been back in Ireland so long."

"True."

"You're talking about how a stag party doesn't make sense for two blokes, aren't you?" Ron asks, coming from the bar to hand us both a shot of firewhisky. "You probably won't even stay out past midnight."

"Well, we need to give engaged sex a go one last time, don't we?" I kiss Nev on the cheek and Ron rolls his eyes.

"Always has to be in front of me, doesn't it?" he asks.

"Ron, I never realized you'd want to watch," says Neville in mock surprise. "If you're interested, we could arrange that."

"Sod off," Ron says, smiling. "So, how drunk do you think we have to get Dean before he does a body shot off Seamus?"

Not too drunk, it turned out. And Neville and I certainly didn't get that far. Too excited, I think, and too ready to try to get a good night of sleep before the big day. Our last drink of the night is a Calming Draught before we lie down in separate rooms, as we have been for the past two weeks. Nev thought it would make the honeymoon more special. Needless to say, I've gotten really good at wanking, almost as well practiced as I was in my fifth year. And from how frustrated Neville looks whenever we kiss, I imagine he's more skilled than ever, too. Should be helpful on the honeymoon, I suppose.

"How nervous are you?" Hermione asks. Quite suddenly, it feels, it's morning, and she's straightening up my tie. "And when did you learn to tie a bowtie?"

"Not too nervous. There's nothing for me to recite, since we didn't write our own vows. And it's not like I don't feel married already. As for the bowtie, do you have any idea how many Ministry galas an Auror has to attend? I had this down years ago."

"I keep meaning to ask you, why are you wearing Muggle suits? Why not dress robes? You have some really nice ones leftover from said galas."

"I know," I say. "But Neville looks really, really good in a suit."

"I do, don't I?" Neville enters the small tent where Hermione and I are getting ready. Of course, she was ready hours ago, looking stunning in her gold bridesmaid dress. She, Ginny, Ron, and Dean are standing alongside us. I step into Nev's arms.

"You do."

"You're not supposed to see each other!" Hermione chides us, but she's smiling.

"The rules are different for men, don't you think?" I ask Neville. He nods and kisses me, perhaps too deeply in front of an audience. Hermione just shakes her head as we carry on.

"Sorry," he says, breaking off the kiss. "I miss that."

"You took a couple weeks off, didn't you?" Hermione nods knowingly. "Ron and I did that, too. He was insufferable."

"You weren't?"

She shrugs. "Girls are just better at this kind of thing. You both look brilliant, by the way. Harry, you were right. Black's right for you, and grey's right for him."

"He was wearing grey the first time we snogged. On your couch, if you remember."

Hermione rolls her eyes. "How could I forget? Ron and I had great sex that night. Something about seeing you."

"Thanks for that," Neville says. "I really needed a clear visual of you and Ron shagging before I walk down the aisle."

We hear the strains of an organ outside the tent. "We should probably head out there, eh?" I ask Neville and Hermione.

"Probably." Nev takes my hand and we head to the back of the much larger tent where the ceremony is taking place. Kingsley's officiating and I've never seen him look prouder. After Ginny and Dean, then Hermione and Ron, make their way to the front of the tent, Neville and I follow down the middle aisle. I squeeze his hand and he squeezes back.

"I love you," I mouth.

"I love you, too," he mouths back, smile as wide as possible.

I hardly hear a word Kingsley says. Hell, I hardly hear myself as I repeat back the vows and Neville does his. It's just so overwhelming, him here across from me, holding both my hands in his, hearing, I'm sure, about as much as I am. The thing I hear loudest and clearest is "You may kiss, well, each other" and a deep chuckle as we lean in and do what the man gave us permission to do.