Author's Note: It is, in fact, still alive. I wanted it to be dead - I've wanted to abandon this fic for ages, as it has given me hell like no other fic has before in my life. And then I read OotP and, well, it's safe to say that it completely destroyed my plot in ways I thought impossible. But then I started feeling rather guilty about just abandoning it, so I talked about continuing it, but I didn' think I actually would. But then, oddly, somehow, inspiration struck, and so after over two months and some new canon that makes this thoroughly unacceptable, you get a new chapter of IR!
I'm going to be doing some light revising - for example, Cryssa's mind-reading that was mentioned when she was first introduced can now be referred to as Legilimency, thanks to the glorious book five. So I'm not just throwing the Legilimency thing in, if anyone's confused. She could always do the mind-reading thing. (Though I must admit, even I forgot she could do that until I went through and reread the fic today.)
Thank you so much to everyone who's still reading this, and this is in a severely alternate universe, obviously, as someone who should be dead (but he's actually in Bermuda. He's not dead. He's not dead. Er. Denial. Right. Not just a river in Egypt.) is still very much alive. But . . . I'm going to try to proceed with it as I had it originally planned, going by GoF-canon.
And I think my rambling should conclude right about here.
Oh, yes, and Crys? You owe me, darling. ;-)
And (I will shut up eventually, I promise) thanks so much to Crys, Storm, Milla, and Dia, without whom I would have never gotten around to writing this. What ever would I do without you guys?
Disclaimer: The wedding vows are the brilliant work of Milla. :-)
Flowers.
Orange and yellow fucking flowers.
Draco stared, rather repulsed, at the bouquet, wondering exactly why he hadn't realized the extreme level of absolute hideousness pertaining to the aforementioned flowers until now. He'd set them down on the dining room table, and the rich green of the tablecloth seemed to display with flourish the absolute disgusting garishness of the roses.
"Draco Malfoy, you are out of your fucking mind," he muttered, not quite able to remove his eyes from the terrifying sight.
Well, one thing was for sure: there was no way in hell that he could give Cryssa these. She'd mock him until the day he died (unless - and this wasn't the most unlikely possibility - he killed her first, but then there was a very high chance that she'd come back to haunt him about it, just because that was the kind of annoying - to - the - point - of - no - return thing that Cryssa Raine did).
So now he was stuck with a shitload of indescribably ugly flowers. How peachy.
Wrinkling his nose, he decided that no one in their right mind could possibly find the slightest trace of beauty in these things. As a matter of fact, the only person he could imagine caring for them at all was Ginny Weasley. God knew she'd probably squeal in delight at such pretty, bright, happy flowers.
Ugh.
. . . And now here he was, thinking about her again.
Dammit.
The little bitch had ruined him. Ruined him. Never in a million years would he have bought flowers like . . . that, had it not been for their brief 'courtship'. He'd used to be Draco Malfoy, hot and heartless; sure, he was a cocky bastard with commitment issues, but since no one had ever really wanted to commit, it hadn't been much of a problem.
And now . . . (he shuddered) . . . now, he was Romeo fucking Montague. 'Oh, looketh, fair lady! Looketh down yonder on ye table and thou shalt see sincerest tokens of mine affections! Now lo, we shall snog!'
. . . Ugh. UghUghUghUghUgh.
He was going to be bloody sick.
Well, one thing was for certain: he had to get Virginia Weasley out of his head before she completely destroyed him and all that he stood for.
And he needed to get rid of these Goddamn flowers before someone saw them.
He didn't even want to imagine what could happen then.
"Why did I buy you?" he snapped in frustration at the offending bouquet. "You're going to destroy me!"
The flowers stared innocently back.
Draco knew somehow that if they'd had eyelashes, this would be the time in which they fluttered them at him.
Damned things.
"Stop it," he snarled. "I'm not going to fall for that."
"Draco?"
Oh, shit.
He gave the flowers one last death glare before turning to face Cryssa, attempting to gather his usual haughty nonchalance.
"Hey."
Well, damn, he was articulate.
She raised an eyebrow at him, smirking. "Hey yourself. Who were you talking to?"
"I wasn't talking to anyone," he said, far too quickly. Her smirk grew even more pronounced, and he cringed. In a much cooler tone, he added, "It must be those pesky voices in your head, Raine."
"Oh, clever," she deadpanned, craning her neck a bit to see past him. "Who are those flowers for?"
"No one," he replied hastily.
"So you just keep them around for casual conversation?" Cryssa inquired with a saccharine smile. "How quaint!"
"Fuck off!" Draco mimicked in the same syrupy sweet tone.
"Can I offer you a little bit of advice?" Cryssa asked, crossing her arms in front of her chest and staring analytically at the offensive bouquet.
"I suppose you could," he replied offhandedly.
"Don't give those to the poor girl you've singled out," she said, wrinkling her nose. "Because they're absolutely hideous."
He fucking hated her.
"Don't worry," he snapped. "I wouldn't want to give her any ideas."
"Don't worry," she returned. "She doesn't have any."
"Good," Draco said, falling silent and glaring at her.
She glared back for a moment before apparently deciding to change tactics; flipping her dark hair, she smiled and fluttered her lashes. "Draco, did you buy me flowers?"
Bitch.
Bitch-bitch-oh-he-hated-her-bitch.
(Damned Legilimency.)
"No," he said defensively, and tried very hard to get her out of his head as rather painful memories of purchasing the flowers raced through his mind. (He had never been much of an Occlumens, and always wound up regretting it in her presence.)
She raised an eyebrow at him.
. . . Shit.
"But you can bloody well have them, since you seem so emotionally attached," he continued, lifting the hideous bunch of flowers from the table and shoving them at her.
"Your chivalry's dazzling," Cryssa deadpanned, holding the flowers away as though they possessed some sort of fatal disease. "I'm really swooning."
"You seem to do that around me," Draco snapped, fixing her with one last glare before storming out of the room.
That haughty, sarcastic, unbearable bitch. He couldn't stand her. The only one allowed to be haughty, sarcastic, and unbearable in their relationship was him. And it made him look good. It added to The Malfoy Allure.
She was just an unbearable bitch.
Still glaring at nothing in general, he surveyed his surroundings angrily for a moment before realization struck.
Taking a deep breath and attempting to compose himself, he made his way slowly back into the room.
"Cryssa?"
"Mm-hmm?" she asked, looking up from the horrendous bouquet and raising an eyebrow at him.
BitchBitchBitchBitch.
Fighting for composure, he informed her, "It's my house."
There was a moment of silence.
"Oh," Cryssa said finally. "Right." Another pause. "So I guess I'm the one who's supposed to storm out, right?"
"That's the general idea," Draco informed her, rolling his eyes.
"Oh," said Cryssa.
"Yes," said Draco.
They stared at each other.
And then, with mirrored actions, Cryssa threw her arms over Draco's shoulders while he placed his hands on her waist; their mouths smashed together and the flowers fell, sadly forgotten, to the floor.
*
Hermione Granger was a slave to stress.
A slave. There was no hope for her.
And Ginny was officially scared.
Unable to shake the feeling that something was liable to explode at any moment, Ginny glanced around Hermione's normally immaculate Hogwarts bedroom quarters. Her desk was covered in assorted bouquets, and dresses were strewn all around the room. Hermione's mother, Katherine Granger (who was surprisingly calm), was quietly straightening the dresses while her daughter muttered semi-hysterically to herself.
Ginny wasn't sure she wanted to get married - it seemed horribly stressful.
She also wasn't sure she wanted to tell Hermione the news she came bearing.
. . . . All right, never mind that.
She was positive that she didn't want to tell Hermione.
But she supposed there was no choice.
"Hermione," Ginny ventured delicately.
"What?" Hermione snapped from where she stood in front of the mirror, yanking violently at her hair with a brush. This, unfortunately, only succeeded in making it more unruly.
"Don't freak out," Ginny continued meekly.
Hermione turned on Ginny with a glare that seemed to shoot sparks.
Instinctively, Ginny backed away a few feet.
"What?" Hermione hissed, more violently this time.
"Ronlosthistie," Ginny informed her feet as quickly as she could.
"WHAT?!?" Hermione roared.
Ginny jumped backward in surprise.
"But it's not a big deal or anything," she threw in hastily. "I mean, he can get another tie easily! He can take Harry's tie-"
"Harry's tie is green!" Hermione cried shrilly. "Green! It matches Harry's eyes, but nothing about Ron will match with green!"
"Hermione!" snapped Mrs. Granger from where she was adjusting Hermione's wedding dress. "Calm down!"
"Mu-um!" Hermione wailed. "I cannot calm down! This is a disaster! A disaster! Oh, I knew things wouldn't work out! Ron can't get married without a tie! This is ridiculous! My God, it's never going to work! Never, never, never! Oooooohhhh-"
"Hermione," Ginny said, alarmed. "Breathe."
"My daughter's gone mad," Mrs. Granger was mumbling to herself, shaking her head. "Absolutely mad."
"WHY CAN'T I HAVE NORMAL HAIR?!" Hermione exploded, eyeing her reflection. "Why does Ron want to marry me, anyway? I'm hideous and my hair deserves its own zip code!"
"Hermione, you're beautiful!" Ginny and Mrs. Granger exclaimed in unison.
"But please," Ginny added, "For the love of God, shut up."
Hermione was silent for a moment, as though she'd temporarily frozen. Ginny and Mrs. Granger exchanged a nervous look.
Oh dear. What have I done?
Hermione took a deep breath. "You're right."
Ginny resisted the urge to sigh in relief.
"Of course you're right," Hermione continued. "Tell Ron that he can borrow one of the twins' ties - George hates them, anyway."
"Will do."
"Thank you," Hermione said, then turned back to the mirror. "My hair."
"Hermione!" Mrs. Granger and Ginny snapped simultaneously.
Hermione chided her mother and Ginny with a glare that clearly said, 'The tie may be solved, but the hair is not'.
Ginny looked at Mrs. Granger and offered weakly, "Maybe we should have gone to a salon?"
"Well, it's too late for that now, isn't it?" Hermione exploded again, throwing her arms into the air. "And I'm just going to have to go out there with awful hair and everyone will laugh and -"
"You know, Hermione," Ginny said weakly, "Professor Sinistra won't laugh. Her hair's just as bad as yours!"
. . . That hadn't come out right.
(Hermione fixed her glare on Ginny.)
"Maybe even worse!" Ginny threw in, laughing nervously.
"Ginny," Mrs. Granger cut in with a weak smile. "Why don't you go see how the guys are doing? I think I need a moment with my daughter."
"Okay," Ginny said gratefully, struggling not to run as she left the room.
As soon as the door had closed behind her, she sighed in relief and made her way down the corridor. Upon being here, she'd realized just how much she missed Hogwarts - the paintings, the classrooms, everything. (Except, perhaps, a certain Chamber one could access from the out-of-order girl's lavatory.)
"Hey."
She smiled at the sound of Harry's voice and turned around. Sure enough, there he was, buttoning his suit jacket as he made his way toward her.
"Hi," she replied, smiling. "Dressed already?"
"Yeah," Harry said, glancing toward the door that led to Ron's quarters. "I needed a break from the groom."
"Oh, I know what you mean," Ginny said, rolling her eyes. "Hermione's gone completely hysterical."
"Ron's practically turning blue," Harry reported. "Though that could be because he's so nervous that he keeps nearly strangling himself with his tie."
Ginny laughed. "Oh, the joys of marriage."
"Something like that," Harry agreed, grinning.
"I can't believe Ron's getting married first," Ginny continued. "We always thought that-"
Unfortunately, she was cut off by a rather irritated screech. "Sev, you have to go! Don't even attempt to fight me on this!"
Harry and Ginny exchanged bewildered glances and backed away uneasily from the door which the noise seemed to be spilling from.
*
Well, this was certainly interesting.
"Auriga, believe me, the last thing I want to do is waste my time watching this ridiculously maudlin ceremony. And believe me, I know what will succeed it."
"It's just a wedding, you git-"
"'Oh, Sev, wasn't it just beautiful? Oh, Sev, why won't you propose? Oh, Sev, I won't be young forever!'" the unmistakable mocking drawl of Severus Snape hissed.
"Well, I won't!" Sinistra replied indignantly.
"Auriga, darling, I hate to break it to you, but you are forty-three years old; you aren't young."
"I hate you."
Harry couldn't believe he was overhearing this: there was something strangely disturbing about the whole situation. For the past twelve years, Snape had been a detestable and formidable figure in his life - someone, yes, who had turned out to have more to him than met the eye, but it didn't by any means change the fact that overhearing one of his lovers' spats was really very wrong.
"Let's go, shall we?" Harry whispered.
"Let's," Ginny agreed quietly.
At that very moment, however, the door chose to swing open with rather frightening force. Harry, who had been standing dangerously close to it, was lucky enough to be able to stop the door . . .
With his face.
"Shit!" he shouted without thinking, bringing his hand to his stinging nose.
"Harry!" Ginny squeaked. "Are you okay?"
"Oh my God, Harry, I am so sorry. Sweet stars, I didn't mean to do that, I'm so, so sorry-"
"Potter! Weasley! Would you mind explaining what the hell you are doing?"
"Professor Snape!" Ginny said immediately. "We were just-"
"Standing," Harry cut in, annoyed and in a severe amount of pain. "What are you going to do, Snape? Take ten points from Gryffindor?"
Sinistra snorted, but was quickly silenced with a rather lethal glare from Snape.
"You were clearly eavesdropping, Potter, an action that is rude, disrespectful, and immature - though I do suppose that is to be expected of you."
"Severus," Sinistra said warningly.
With one last rather violent sneer at Sinistra, Ginny, and a profusely-bleeding Harry, Snape swept past them, clearly disgusted.
"Nicely done, Harry," Sinistra muttered. "The bastard is having a hard time coming to terms with the fact that he can't take points from you anymore - go easy on him."
Harry chuckled. "Okay."
"And you should probably see Madam Pomfrey about that," she continued, nodding toward Harry's nose. Blood was now beginning to drip from his hand.
"Right," he agreed.
"All right, then," Sinistra said, smiling. "I'll see you at the wedding."
And she proceeded to hurry down the corridor, calling after Snape's retreating figure, "Now, come on, Severus, don't be such a baby . . ."
Harry and Ginny watched with rather bemused expressions.
"How on earth," Ginny started, "can she . . ."
"Be in love with him?" Harry finished weakly.
"Precisely," said Ginny rather faintly.
They exchanged 'who knows?' glances, and only then did Ginny seem to remember that Harry was, in fact, losing a fair amount of blood.
"Right," she said. "To Madam Pomfrey's, then."
"To Madam Pomfrey's," Harry agreed, and couldn't help but be slightly amused by the fact that he simply could not escape winding up in the Hospital Wing, even after he'd left school.
*
After a few minor mishaps which included a large amount of blood, a pesky stain on Harry's jacket (he was forced to borrow a spare pair of Ron's dress robes), and a rather frightening encounter with a homicidal house-elf that claimed to be madly in love with Professor Sinistra (and therefore rather intent upon murdering Snape), the wedding ceremony was set to begin.
Ginny stood outside the Great Hall, smoothing the lavender fabric of her dress before she retrieved her bouquet of white camellias. Next to her, Harry was muttering a few words of last-minute encouragement to a near-tearful Hermione:
"You look gorgeous, Hermione . . . really you do. You and Ron are going to be so happy together."
Hermione muttered something rather indecipherable.
"I love you too," Harry said, enveloping her in a quick hug.
This seemed to calm Hermione enough to at least make her coherent. "Oh, Harry, if you make me cry, I'm never forgiving you. I spent a ridiculous amount of time on my makeup."
"Okay," Harry said, and snuck a quick smile at Ginny. "I'll stop."
"You look wonderful, Hermione," Ginny said softly, hugging her friend. "Just beautiful."
"Thanks," Hermione said, smiling. "All right, then. I suppose it's starting any time now."
"I suppose so," Ginny agreed, and slid her arm through Harry's.
"You look great," he muttered out of the corner of his mouth.
"Right back atcha," she returned quietly.
She could hear Hermione and her father exchanging quiet words, and could make out a few more 'love you's, 'my darling girl', and 'oh, Daddy'.
"Oh, God, I'm starting to get a bit teary myself," she informed Harry. "I bet Mum's positively bawling even now. The second Ron stepped out there, I'm sure."
Harry opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by the sound of the organ as it swelled through the Great Hall.
"Here goes," Ginny whispered.
She and Harry stepped slowly into the Great Hall, which had been beautifully decorated for the occasion. All of the tables had been temporarily removed in favor of rows of mahogany pews, and white and lavender flower petals were falling gently from the enchanted ceiling. At the head of the Great Hall, Ron stood rather awkwardly next to Mundungus Fletcher, who looked rather odd (to say the least) in nice white dress robes.
Sure enough, as they approached the front two pews on the left side, the sound of Mrs. Weasley sobbing happily was all too audible: she was dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief and smiling. Ginny noted that her father's eyes looked a bit glassy as well - the twins, Charlie, and Bill (who was seated next to Fleur Delacour: Ginny was surprised to note that she was smiling tearfully as well) were all grinning broadly.
As they reached Ron and Mundungus, Ginny and Harry exchanged small smiles before parting. Harry stood to the side of Ron, while Ginny took her place next to where Hermione would be in a moment.
A sharp intake of breath and soft murmuring filled the Hall as Hermione entered, grinning radiantly from where she stood next to a beaming Mr. Granger. She looked absolutely stunning: the dress seemed to almost sparkle, and Ginny felt a bit foolish in thinking that like the wand chose the wizard, the dress must certainly choose the bride. It seemed as though it wasn't quite Hermione: or rather, it was Hermione, but all her wonderful attributes seemed to be flourishing all at once, and therefore seemed to result in her looking positively ethereal, like some sort of angel. Ginny snuck a glance at Ron - his expression was filled with such awe and blatant adoration that she felt tears well up in her eyes.
(Mrs. Weasley was positively bawling.)
They reached the head of the Hall, and Mr. Granger sat down next to his wife. Hermione's eyes shone with tears as she faced Ron, who gave her a rather lopsided smile. She beamed and giggled a bit.
Ginny concentrated very hard on not bursting into tears. (Why oh why did she have to be so much like her mother at these sorts of occasions?)
"We are gathered 'ere today," Mundungus began, his eyes twinkling, "To join this wizard and this witch in matrimony."
Hermione looked as though she was trying very hard to pay attention to what Mundungus was saying, but kept sneaking glances at Ron: Ron, on the other hand, was staring rather openly at his soon-to-be wife.
"Now," Mundungus continued, "Lemme tell you all something - I 'aven't never seen a pair that are more mean' to be together than these two." There was a warm 'aww' from the wedding guests. "Unfortunately, I also 'aven't never seen a pair that danced around their feelings for longer 'an these two did."
Mrs. Weasley cleared her throat pointedly. Ginny spotted Snape and Sinistra exchanging rather fond smirks from where they sat in the back.
"Er," Mundungus said hastily, "Anyway. Moving on, then-
"Do you, 'Ermione Ophelia Granger, take Ronald Arthur Weasley, to be your lawfully wedded husband, through Bludgers and through Bouncing Bulbs, through Quills and Quiet Evenings, as long as you both shall live?"
Hermione smiled tearfully. "I do."
"Right, then," Mundungus said - Ginny could see that her mother looked less touched and more annoyed by every second that passed. "And do you, Ronald Arthur Weasley, take 'Ermione Ophelia Granger to be your lawfully wedded wife, through Bludgers and through Bouncing Bulbs, through Quills and Quiet Evenings, as long as you both shall live?"
Ron grinned. "She had me at 'is that a real spell'?"
Mrs. Weasley looked scandalized at this, and actually hissed, "Ronald, do it properly!"
Hermione, on the other hand, looked perfectly satisfied with this answer, and let out a sound that was an odd cross between a laugh and a sob.
"I do," Ron capitulated, still smiling.
"Fabulous, then," Mundungus said, sporting a grin himself. "Then I now pronounce you 'usband and wife. You may kiss the bride."
The organ swelled again - Ginny observed that Professor Flitwick was waving his wand as though conducting the unattended instrument - and Ron swept Hermione up into his arms and dipped her down to kiss her, not unlike the tactic he had used weeks before at Honeydukes.
The entirety of the Hall burst into applause, and Ginny saw that even Snape was smiling a little, though he quickly turned it into a scowl as a rather tearful Sinistra turned to look at him.
Mrs. Weasley burst into tears again as Ron and Hermione broke apart and made their way back out of the hall, hand-in-hand.
"Nicely done, Dung," Harry said, grinning as he clapped Mundungus on the back.
"Thank you, thank you," Mundungus returned, smiling back. "Now, onto the reception, eh? Who brought the Firewhisky? There'd better be Firewisky . . ."
He walked off mumbling to himself, leaving Harry and Ginny alone at the head of the Hall.
"Well," Ginny said, smiling.
"Well," Harry echoed. "I guess they're married, then."
"Guess so," Ginny agreed.
A strange expression crossed Harry's face, as though he wanted to say something but didn't quite know how, and had managed a rather strangled, "Ginny, I-" before Mrs. Weasley made her way over to them.
"Oh, it was lovely!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms around Ginny and then promptly moving on to Harry. "You know, I had my doubts when Ron told me that Mundungus was performing the ceremony, but it was absolutely perfect! Oh, I can't believe my baby is married!"
"Mum, calm down," Fred instructed, looking rather alarmed.
"Breathe in, breathe out," George added helpfully.
"Oh, shut up, you two!" Mrs. Weasley instructed, swatting at her sons. "This doesn't happen everyday!"
Meanwhile, Fleur was informing Bill, "You know, I remember distinctly, zat boy asked me to zee Yule Ball when I was here for zee Triwizard Tournament . . ."
Ginny exchanged a look with Harry and they both laughed.
"Come on, everybody!" Professor McGonagall announced briskly from the other end of the Hall. "The bride is about to throw the bouquet!"
Oooh. Ginny hadn't even thought about that. (She snuck a quick glance at Harry.)
"I am going to catch eet, you mark my words," Fleur told Bill. "I am going to get an engagement ring from you yet."
"Ooh-la-la," Bill returned, wiggling his eyebrows.
Ginny bid goodbye to her brothers, Mum, and Harry before making her way out of the Great Hall, Fleur close behind her. Excitement seemed to flow through her as she made her way outside - a heating charm had been used to get rid of the snow around the front steps, and already an assortment of women had made their way out into their area.
"Ready?" Hermione called, laughing a little.
An uproar of assorted shrieking served as a reply.
"All right, then," Hermione said. "One . . . two . . . three!"
The bouquet soared through the air, and Ginny made a valiant attempt for it, but missed, as it was still a few feet over her head. And then, from behind her, came a triumphant cry.
"Haha! I caught it!"
Ginny felt a grin stretch across her face as she recognized the voice: turning around, she saw Auriga Sinistra clutching the bouquet with an expression of utmost victory.
"Severus Snape, you don't have a choice now!" she continued delightedly, making her way over toward the Potions master, who up until now had been watching the scene from a few feet away with his regular sneer. The sneer, however, had been replaced with an expression of absolute horror.
"You have to marry me!" she finished, brandishing the bouquet as evidence.
"God, why me," Snape deadpanned, though he didn't seem to object as Sinistra stood on tiptoe and threw her arms around him, pressing her mouth to his own.
Mingled laughter and applause rang through the air, and Ginny herself couldn't resist clapping a few times before she heard a very welcome voice from behind her.
"Well, that was certainly eventful," Harry said, grinning at her.
"Definitely," Ginny agreed, giggling. "I must say, I'm glad I didn't catch it. Poor Sinistra deserves it."
"Though I'm not sure she deserves Snape," Harry replied, pulling a face.
Ginny shrugged and glanced over at the couple - they were still lost in a rather passionate embrace.
"She seems to like him."
"Yeah," Harry agreed. They fell into silence, and Ginny observed that the strange expression he had donned earlier had returned.
"You know," he said, rather awkwardly, "Ginny . . ."
"Yes?" she asked faintly, wondering if it was stupid of her to assume he was going to say what she hoped he was.
"I think-"
"Attention, everyone!" McGonagall's voice, magically magnified, filled the air. "The Great Hall has been returned to its usual state, and you may now return inside for the reception."
The crowd quickly filed back inside, laughter and conversation ringing in the air, but Harry didn't make any motion to go anywhere. Ginny, who was rather keen on hearing what it was he had to say, remained with him. Quite shortly, they were the only people left on the grounds, minus Snape and Sinistra - however, they both seemed to be rather distracted, and therefore most likely wouldn't endanger the conversation.
"So," Harry said.
"So," Ginny repeated.
"Erm . . . it's quite cold out here."
"Yes," agreed Ginny; what he said was true, and she found herself wishing that he would just talk about something other than the weather (surely that wasn't the statement she'd been waiting for) so they could get back inside already.
"Uh . . ."
She stared up at him expectantly.
"Ginny, I think I'm in love with you," he said weakly.
Snape and Sinistra, Ginny decided as she silently tilted her head and pressed her lips to Harry's, had the right idea.
A/N 2: Whoo! And I've finally written The Wedding! Odd, yes, that Mundungus ended up marrying them, but I had no idea who to use - oddly, the first person that came to mind was him, but I thought it to be a rather insane prospect and therefore wasn't going to do it. Then, however, my dear friend Milla (the brilliant drama-princess on Ff.N) suggested that she'd like to see Mundungus marry them without my saying anything about it and, well, who's to argue with psychicness like that? ;-)
Only about . . . hmm, four chapters to go? Sorry about the immense amount of fluff, but I really couldn't resist, and can't afford to argue with my lovely muses Steve (who is a girl) and Queen Ophelia, as they've been kind enough to actually let me write this. Am I actually writing this? Maybe I'm just dreaming . . . *pinch*
Okay, ow. Not dreaming.
Thank you so much to everyone who's waited for ages for this - Lord, I'm turning into The Goddess herself!
Well . . . not exactly.
Let's see if it takes me three years to get chapter fourteen up - then we'll talk.