A/N: Yes. I stole this idea from the Disney show, Lizzie McGuire. So don't say I didn't warn you, alright? Alright!
Get A Clue
Prologue
Before I begin this story, you must understand, I despise Draco Malfoy. With the eternal passion of a thousand burning, fiery suns.
Well, you may be wondering why I'm walking down a wedding aisle to meet him.
You will, most likely, understand later.
See, I'd always had this moment, in my head. I'd be walking down a red carpet outside, everything would smell like perfume (hey, it's my fantasy, stop giggling), and my family would be surrounding me. I'd be walking away from them, kind of. Think that's symbolic? Anywho, I'd be walking, and Harry would be standing at the other side, smiling, and when I got there, he'd take my hand, and we'd be together forever.
But fate is never that kind, is it? Instead, it's Draco Malfoy standing there, and none other than Harry Potter is the best man. My life is over.
...Got'ya'!
Hah. I can't really even BEGIN to believe that you'd really think I'd marry Draco Malfoy for any reason at all. And besides, I'm only fourteen years old, and my name is NOT Juliet, thank you so very much. My name is Ginny Weasley. Hello, nice to meet you. And don't deny it, I did so have you fooled.
Having a Murder Mystery Weekend at Hogwarts was one of Dumbledore's more...er...shall we say fun? Fun ideas to 'better' Hogwarts. At least it would give us all an excuse to goof off.
Anyway, this is the part of the story where I narrate and tell you about what's going on so that you get it when it actually begins. This is the part of the story where I tell you that everything will change, all in one weekend. This is where I tell you that Dumbledore must've been crazy to let over ten horomonal teenagers take over the school for this weekend. This is where I tell you that it begins with a bit of a bang and ends with an even bigger one.
This is where I tell you that the air is thick with mystery, but with romance the air is even thicker.
...And this is where I tell you that all of this just sounds so unbelievably cliche, that I have to stop talking.
I mean, I am getting married, after all.
Prologue
Before I begin this story, you must understand, I despise Draco Malfoy. With the eternal passion of a thousand burning, fiery suns.
Well, you may be wondering why I'm walking down a wedding aisle to meet him.
You will, most likely, understand later.
See, I'd always had this moment, in my head. I'd be walking down a red carpet outside, everything would smell like perfume (hey, it's my fantasy, stop giggling), and my family would be surrounding me. I'd be walking away from them, kind of. Think that's symbolic? Anywho, I'd be walking, and Harry would be standing at the other side, smiling, and when I got there, he'd take my hand, and we'd be together forever.
But fate is never that kind, is it? Instead, it's Draco Malfoy standing there, and none other than Harry Potter is the best man. My life is over.
...Got'ya'!
Hah. I can't really even BEGIN to believe that you'd really think I'd marry Draco Malfoy for any reason at all. And besides, I'm only fourteen years old, and my name is NOT Juliet, thank you so very much. My name is Ginny Weasley. Hello, nice to meet you. And don't deny it, I did so have you fooled.
Having a Murder Mystery Weekend at Hogwarts was one of Dumbledore's more...er...shall we say fun? Fun ideas to 'better' Hogwarts. At least it would give us all an excuse to goof off.
Anyway, this is the part of the story where I narrate and tell you about what's going on so that you get it when it actually begins. This is the part of the story where I tell you that everything will change, all in one weekend. This is where I tell you that Dumbledore must've been crazy to let over ten horomonal teenagers take over the school for this weekend. This is where I tell you that it begins with a bit of a bang and ends with an even bigger one.
This is where I tell you that the air is thick with mystery, but with romance the air is even thicker.
...And this is where I tell you that all of this just sounds so unbelievably cliche, that I have to stop talking.
I mean, I am getting married, after all.