Note: Remember my plan of finishing this part in 20 chapters? I've given up on that. Now I'm aiming for 21. :D

This is the first wedding chapter, by the way. There are two more to come, so the wedding isn't over yet.

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Disclaimer: Since I'm neither J. K. Rowling nor Ginny Weasley, Harry Potter does not belong to me.

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The Founding of Pigwarts II – Cooking Chaos

Chapter 19: The Wedding – Invitation Only

The dress was white, of course, the only colour allowed. She hadn't even considered anything else, knowing that it would never happen. And she had been smart enough to bite back all the joking remarks about not being able to wear white – that would have equalled an eternity of screaming and very possibly the cancellation of the whole wedding. With the short temper and fragile nerves her mother was displaying for the last few days, she could only hope that it would all recede once this day was over, or at least once she got back from her honeymoon.

The dress was also Molly's and it looked beautiful on her. Of course, that had required twenty-nine laps round Malfoy Manor, three days of starvation, and lots of yelling and crying and being locked to her room. Her sneaking around and founding school times seemed to be over, especially after that evening Molly had caught her climbing back into her room through the window. Despite her bad experiences with windows and climbing through them, for several days this had been her only escape, and even that had been taken away from her.

Not that it mattered any longer because today was the day. Everything was ready simply because everything had to be ready, and even though she didn't consider herself a perfectionist, today things had to go the way she wanted. Because today was the day – the day that was going down in history as one of the most important dates in the history of wizardkind.

It was the day she was going to marry Harry.

---

Most of the guests had already arrived, and were now mingling, chatting, and sipping their drinks. Ron stood amongst them, but he didn't mingle, chat, or enjoy a drink. He had been appointed with a serious task, and since he loved both his sister and his life, he couldn't but do his duty, which was 'behave, and make sure everyone else does it as well, or I'll have your head'. She had told him that at least nine times, having elbowed him in the ribs first to make sure he was listening.

And for this reason his gaze was much sharper now, and he was actually paying attention to what happened around him. And because he was paying attention to his surroundings, it didn't take him too long to notice something that could be classified only as trouble, in the subcategory of major trouble.

There, in front of him, looking as if everything was normal, stood Millicent Bulstrode and Blaise Zabini, chatting, laughing, and drinking together. And perhaps everything would have been normal had they been doing that in somewhere else than in the wedding of his little sister and best friend. Also, a silver dagger and a couple of evil smirks might have improved the image. But they were here and now and if Ron had something to say about it, and he had a lot to say about it, very soon they wouldn't be here and now anymore. Because this was the wedding of two Gryffindors, and there must have been a law somewhere stating that Slytherins had no right to be here. Although, now that he considered it, he didn't actually mind them being present because if they hadn't been here, he wouldn't have got the chance to kick them out. Now this was a mental image better than any amount of evil smirks and daggers.

With every intention of kicking some Slytherin ass, he directed his glare back to the duo, who had unfortunately used his thoughtful moments to disappear from sight, as if they knew what he was going to do to them.

But now that Ron had already seen the trouble, he was not going to rest until he had seen it again and taken care of it. They could run, they could mingle, they could drink and chat and laugh, and they could hide, but he was going to find them no matter what. That is, as long as they really were here, and the hot sun and lack of a cold drink hadn't finally got to him.

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The bridesmaids' dresses were pale pink. She blamed Fleur, and comforted herself with the notion that this time she was not required to wear one. Still, they didn't look that bad. At least they weren't bright orange with fluorescent pink polka dots, and that was something she was rather grateful for.

Although she might have even managed to bear that, as long as the only one wearing such a masterpiece was Daphne, and she was doing it here. Because, as angry and livid and furious and mad and raged as she was at Daphne, she didn't want to marry without her – she had been her constant companion, accomplice, friend, and something close to a sister for the past couple of weeks, and missing her on the happiest day of her life sounded a bit wrong. Not that she was willing to cancel her wedding for Daphne's sake – never in a million years. She just wanted her there, but according to her spies, that is, spy, that is, Hermione, Daphne hadn't arrived yet.

True, she hadn't seen her for a couple of days, ever since the Incident. But then again, she had been rather busy for those days with all the preparations, and starvation, and climbing through her window, and getting caught, and receiving a three-hour lecture about 'how proper young ladies do not run away to their young men to do improper things before the wedding'. Luckily for her, Molly was convinced she had been sneaking away to meet Harry all these times. But still, she had expected to run into Daphne, either in the little café now in the middle of the Forbidden Forest and still looking for staff, or in the hallways of Malfoy Manor, where she only dared to go after making sure Malfoy had left and even then staying for only ten minutes, or at Blaise's, which had been the location of their last pre-"Ginny's wedding" party. She had once even knocked on Daphne's door, simply because she had been in the neighbourhood (well, she had just got this weird urge to go into Derbyshire), yet received no answer but a faint "Moo!"

This was probably just a coincidence, though. It's not like Daphne was avoiding her on purpose. Why should she? The Slytherin was not the type to let little things bother her – like being chased round the Manor for twenty-nine laps and then being strangled a bit. Just a little bit, she didn't even lose consciousness, thanks to Dean the Heroic Cow, who dashed to save his beloved like a… erm… cow in shining… something. It had been rather romantic, actually, especially when he rode into the sunset with her afterwards.

But Daphne wasn't one to let such details ruin a friendship. She was probably just dealing with some last minute preparations about Pigwarts. Something in the Manor, possibly, now that Malfoy was away from home. Thanks to her spies-spy-Hermione, she knew exactly where Malfoy was at the moment.

---

However, Ginny wasn't the only one knowing Malfoy's exact location. Unfortunately for him, Ron knew as well, and he knew it even better, for his information didn't limit to 'somewhere around here' but was as specific as 'five yards away, ten o'clock'.

There was trouble, and then there was TROUBLE. This certainly qualified as the latter. Ron could still recall those photos on the first page on the Daily Prophet; no matter how hard he tried to forget them, they still haunted his dreams. And now the Ferret was here, at Ginny's wedding, clearly with the most devious intentions (because why else would he come), and Ron felt like it was his birthday, Christmas, and World Quidditch Cup combined. Because there was nothing better he could think of than kicking Malfoy out of here, other than sending a nice juicy hex at him in the process, which he was going to do as well, now that the idea had crossed his mind. Surely, kicking the Ferret out of here was the ultimate act of proper behaviour.

Angry glare in place and fingers around his wand, Ron set off towards the blissfully obvious and at the moment also a bit bored-looking Malfoy.

Unfortunately for all the Slytherins, for Ginny hadn't been stingy with the invitations, who had been drawn to the scene not quite like moths to the fire, but more like hungry wolves to a lost sheep, didn't get to see the show they were expecting. It had been a close call, though. Ron had been mere steps away from Draco when out of nowhere appeared some brother of his and whisked him away.

"Damn!"

"Better luck next time."

"I'll see to that," Millicent promised with a smirk.

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A knock sounded on the door to her room.

"Ginny?"

"Come in, Hermione," the bride replied, recognizing the voice of her spy.

"You look beautiful," her friend told her, for the twelfth time at least. Not that she minded, though.

"You're not so bad yourself," she returned the compliment, and when Hermione looked like she was going to protest, she quickly added, "At least it's not bright orange."

"It's not the colour," Hermione admitted. "It's just a bit hot for this weather, that's all. But I guess bridesmaids' dresses aren't supposed to be comfortable, or pretty."

"Well, that's good. Don't want anyone overshadow me in prettiness, now do I?" Ginny winked.

"They don't stand a chance."

"No, but you would," she smiled. "All this sneakiness has done you good."

"Well, that's the thing with Slytherins – you can't live with them, yet you can't live without them."

"Perhaps. But it's definitely better to have them."

---

By the time that 'some brother of his' was done with Ron, and he was able to return to his post, there was not a single Slytherin on display. He was so disappointed with this, that at the moment he would have agreed to Ginny's remark because having Slytherins meant having the chance to hex them.

But there were no Slytherins in his line of vision, which meant that by the time one decided to appear, he had probably already forgotten all those terrific things he had thought out while helping Bill rearrange the tables according to the yells and cries of Molly and Fleur, who used the little time they had still left before the ceremony to disagree about everything.

In fact, he was so disappointed at losing his chance to put all his ingenious plans into action, that when a friendly arm was thrown around his shoulders, and a friendly hand offered him a drink, he took it not only without the second thought, but without the first as well, gulping down all the liquid and spending a good while for gasping and coughing and choking on the Firewhiskey, which wasn't wine or champagne.

"Nice party," Millicent spoke politely.

Ron nodded.

"Of course, it would be even better if Draco was here," she added.

Ron nodded again in complete agreement.

"By the way, I last saw him there."

Ron followed the pointing arm, then stared at it for a while, and glanced at its owner to give his thanks.

But what came out of his mouth next, was slightly different.

"You are a Slytherin!"

"Really?" Millicent raised her brow. "I never noticed. Did you, Blaise?"

Blaise, the person attached to the friendly arm that was still around Ron's shoulders, shook his head.

"How terrible," he commented.

Jumping away from the two Slytherins and their friendly arms and hands, Ron took a moment to stare at them in silence. He kind of remembered there was something he was supposed to do in such a situation, but since those ideas varied from thanking to hexing, he had hard time to make his decision.

Thinking wasn't suddenly as easy as it had been before, and Ron frowned. One glass of Firewhiskey could have never done this to him, but perhaps one glass of Firewhiskey, the hot sun, plus fifteen minutes of yelling, shouting, and arguing from Molly and Fleur could. Actually, there were only a couple of things Molly's yelling couldn't achieve. Still, he had to do something.

"I'm very sorry, but this party is invitation only," he managed at last, sounding so polite that he even surprised himself.

"But we do have the invitations," Millicent announced, fishing two small rolls of golden parchment out of her purse, and holding them up for inspection.

But Ron, who had despite the sun, his mother, and Firewhiskey just realized that instead of being polite here, he could go in the pointed direction, find Malfoy, and not be polite there, that he didn't even look at those golden rolls of parchment, but instead stated, "Excuse me for a moment, I've got a Ferret to hex", and set off towards where Millicent had indicated.

"I told you I'd make it happen," she announced triumphantly.

"That you did," Blaise had to admit, "Now let's go and see what happens."

But yet again they were deprived of their entertainment because it was time for the wedding ceremony.

"Do you think Ginny would agree to postpone it a bit so that we could watch the fight first?" Millicent wondered.

---

"Ginny, we have to go!"

"I know," she answered calmly, glancing at the mirror for one last time, before letting Fleur, Hermione, and Luna usher her out of the room. Her tone was deceitful, though, for Ginny was feeling everything but calm at the moment.

Then again, brides weren't supposed to be calm on their wedding day.

"She'll be here," Hermione whispered into her ear.

"She'd better," Ginny replied, then turned all her attention to not tripping over the hem of her dress.

---

The bride was gorgeous, everyone had to agree. Except for those who didn't agree, but fortunately had enough decency to lie about it. Molly was crying, and she wasn't the only one.

Ginny smiled upon reaching her destination without the merry interlude of falling flat on her face. The Matrimonial Mage started the ceremony, and looking at Harry, she found his eyes particularly green this fine afternoon. He did have nice eyes. Like freshly-pickled toad. Or Slytherin. She had to suppress a snicker at that. Speaking of Slytherin, though…

Not that it really mattered. She had her family, she had her friends, she had Harry, and she had a bunch of other Slytherins. She didn't really need Daphne, did she?

No.

Yes.

Damn!

Time to change the subject. A bride shouldn't be cursing during her wedding ceremony, not even mentally. She concentrated on Harry again, examined the smile on his lips, and the pride and happiness on his face, and the deep love and devotion in his eyes.

Which were green.

Like Slytherin.

Like Daphne's eyes, and hair, and usually robes as well.

Perhaps she didn't come because she really hated the pale pink? She could have made an exception for her.

The Mage, whose previous talk about the great importance and responsibility of marriage had gone completely past the bride, who was busy trying not to curse, even mentally, and also the groom, who simply found the bride too beautiful to look or listen to anything else, now reached the part of the objections. The bride and groom still weren't listening to it, but there were those who were. And one of them decided to speak up.

"I object!"

And with those two words Ginny's inner struggle was over, and all thoughts about Daphne flew from her mind, as she turned her shocked-but-soon-to-be-murderous gaze at the person who had dared to ruin her wedding.

It took her a couple of moments to locate the criminal, but once she had, all her surprise that had managed to turn into anger turned right back to surprise.

"Vinny?" she finally managed to gasp, and finding encouragement from that, Vincent Crabbe pressed through the crowd staring at him with open jaws, and made his way to the beautiful bride.

"I'm sorry, Ginevra," he spoke, once he had reached her. "I don't want to cause you any pain, and I don't want to ruin anything for you. But I just have to say this."

He looked really nervous, yet determined, and realizing that his words were sincere, Ginny now smiled in earnest.

"Go on."

"You are the most beautiful sight I have ever seen in my life, Ginevra. I love you. Will you marry me? Let's make babies together!"

Some of the audience had burst out laughing at that, some of them were shaking their fists and shouting in fury – Ginny ignored them both.

"Oh, Vinny," she sighed. "This is so incredibly sweet of you. And incredibly brave as well. Don't you worry, you haven't ruined anything. You are a good man, Vincent, and you have a good heart, and I'm sure some day you will find the right girl for you who will make you more happy than you could ever imagine."

"I've already found her."

"You have become a good friend of mine, Vinny, and you will always have a special place in my heart. But I'm in love with Harry," she ended with a small wistful smile.

There was a long pause, as he pondered this. She wondered whether she was in danger of being either punched or kidnapped, decided that Vinny would never do the first, and the idea of the second would probably never cross his mind, and continued to wait patiently.

"I understand," Crabbe nodded. "I didn't think you would, but it was still worth the try. You were worth the try."

With a tiny sob and without any thought, Ginny walked up to him, threw her arms around his neck in a tight hug, ignoring all the hanging jaws and bulging eyes and gasps of surprise around her. She also ignored the soft thump of someone either fainting or sitting past their chair.

But she was not done yet with shocking her audience because even though she let Vincent go after a moment, she didn't let him leave without a kiss on his cheek. Only then did she return to the Matrimonial Mage, who seemed to be enjoying the entertainment, probably used to all the intrigues and secrets of a wedding, and his fiancé, whose expression told her that he didn't mind the interruption as long as she didn't mind it. And Ginny really didn't mind it.

In fact, her smile was even a bit wider, and her mind a lot calmer, when the Mage continued his speech and she continued staring at Harry and everything continued the way it should…

"WAIT!!!"

Everybody wheeled towards the shout, and this time it didn't take them more than a second to locate the one who had cried that because it was rather hard not to see a black and white cow storming straight at them, carrying a girl on its back, her long green hair fluttering in the wind.

"Daphne!" Ginny cried with joy.

"I'm here!" the girl announced, jumping off the cow once it had stopped.

"Daphne!" Ginny repeated, noticing that the dress her long-awaiting friend was wearing wasn't bright orange with fluorescent pink polka dots, but plain silver, giving her the look of a true Slytherin in combination of her green hair. She didn't let the fact that it looked more like a nightgown and less like a dress bother her. Because Daphne was here now, and everything was perfect!

"It's a long story," the girl announced, taking her place beside Ginny with her other bridesmaids.

"Tell me later," Ginny demanded.

And then everything went on just the way it should.

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