The Plan

Disclaimer: All Characters, story etc belong to JK Rowling (no profit being made!).

Additionally, Fen and Terry's Ice Cream is in no way, shape or form connected to the Ice Cream, Ben and Jerry's, even if it does have the magical ability to make witches everywhere feel better and more acceptant of the male species called Idiots, sorry, Wizards.

(We all ponder how pre-Ben and Jerry women survived…)

Chapter 8 - The Traditional Weasley Wedding…you have been warned!

Precisely one night before the wedding, all was calm at the Granger House. The daughter of the household sat cross-legged on the cold kitchen floor, flicking peas through the wedged open cat flap. Upon her swelling stomach lay a scarred mass of ginger fur. Its one good eye trained on the flying peas, sharing its owner's amusement when one missed and hit the tiled floor with a gentle smash. She had to admit that this was not quite how she had pictured spending her hen night. While her cat, a tub of Fen and Terry's Ice cream (see disclaimer) and a large supply of her much-hated vegetable (cooked to perfection for just the right splattering sound!) wasn't riveting company, she'd imagined being surrounded by friends, drinking the night away into a blurry, forgettable evening.

Mr Granger meandered in from the living room wearing his pyjamas, a bottle of Irish liqueur in one hand and milk in the other.

"Shouldn't you be resting for the big day?" he asked, his eyes narrowing at the bowl of peas beside her and then at the cat, which suddenly looked very coy.

"Probably," was his answer as she flicked yet another pea, and his attention was drawn to the back door.

"What on earth are you doing to your mother's floor? She'll have you hanging from the washing line by your toes if she sees this mess! Wand or no wand!"

Flick, splat.

"Here, drink this," he sighed, shaking his head and handing her a glass of milk. She took a tentative sip to appease him, pausing as she detected another flavour to the drink.

"What the…?"

"Bailey's and cream, no one would ever guess. Plus you're getting your calcium, good for your teeth," he said, taking a seat next to her and wincing from the cold.

"I wonder if Ron's out having fun…," she said, sighing heavily.

"Want me to go and check? Give him a good kicking if he is?" asked Mr Granger good-naturedly, but with a glint in his eye that left Hermione guessing to the actual seriousness behind the question.

"No thanks Dad," she said warily, a grateful smile tugging at her lips.

"Well I…that is…You're mother and I… we want you to know that we're always here for you," he said, eyes locked on the cat, who was making a show of cleaning its sharp claws, "You can always come home at any time…cat an all."

"I know Dad," said Hermione, kissing him on the cheek and unsettling Crookshanks in the process, who hissed loudly in complaint.

"Now drink up and go to bed, what will be, will be."

Hermione Granger gulped down the last bit of concoction and drifted up to bed, Crookshanks at her side. She lay awake until the early hours of the morning, Cornish pixies dancing around in her stomach, until she got up and rearranged her father's bookshelf in to chronological order. Satisfied, she fell asleep with Crookshanks, who was snoring loudly on her pillow.

* * *

Hermione sat patiently still while their next-door neighbour, an experienced hairdresser, rambled on with advice about pre-wedding jitters. However, this was causing Hermione to feel worse by the minute, the pixies had given up on dancing and moved on to more interesting activities…such as trampoline. And when she was regaled with a tale about how Mrs. Morris down the road had thrown up all over the vicar at her wedding, she wasn't sure whether she was going to be able to keep her meagre breakfast down.

She started listing off things that needed to be done in her head, trying to ignore the elderly hairdresser. Sat in a bathrobe, her hair clipped tightly to head Hermione was very relieved when a tired looking Ginny padded in to the dining room.

Mrs Granger followed with a tray of tea looking as nervous as Hermione felt, but smiling happily at them all. Harry and the male Weasley's were staying 'elsewhere'. And Hermione continued to remain highly suspicious of 'elsewhere', especially when all six of them were involved; even if one of them was Percy, (Hermione still held to the belief that deep, deep, (deep) down Percy was just as bad as the lot of them.)

A long while later, Hermione sat on her own in front of the dresser mirror. She stared into her own eyes, warring with her nerves. She was going to marry Ron Weasley and in a few months have his first child…Thinking back to her years at Hogwarts, she was amazed at how far they had come.

"Cross all your fingers and toes for me," she said, laying her hand on her stomach. Only people who knew about the pregnancy would be able to see the distinct curve of her body and she prayed that the illusion stayed in place. All it would take was the idea that she was pregnant in someone's mind and the truth would be out.

Taking a deep breath, she hoped that she would be able to get to the reception without losing her nerve.

* * *

"Has anyone seen the rings?" called Harry down the stairs.

"No!" was the response of the entire male population at the Burrow.

"What?" cried Ron, jumping from his seat at the kitchen table. Having been ready for several hours in case anything went wrong, Ron's nerves where starting to crack.

"No worries, found them!" yelled Harry, to which several bursts of laughter followed.

Looking aggravated, Ron sat back down, muttering curses.

"Don't swear dear," said Mrs Weasley, looking unusually smart in a pair of formal robes, "Harry dear, don't you loose those rings! How would you feel if Ron lost your wedding bands?"

"Yes Mrs Weasley," said Harry, looking sheepish as he entered the kitchen. Ron couldn't resist feeling a little satisfaction at the fact that Harry had been suitably chastened for teasing him. Harry sat down at the table and devoured the plate of food placed in front of him, where the rest of the family soon joined him.

"Charlie! We are leaving in twenty minutes! Why aren't you dressed?" demanded Mrs Weasley.

"I'm nearly done Mum!" he cried between mouthfuls of cereal.

Mrs Weasley eyed him, before smiling happily at Ron and patting his hand.

At eleven thirty, they arrived in the gardens of the West Midlands Registry Office.

* * *

As was tradition at a wizarding wedding, Ron stood with Harry to the right of a small room. Wooden benches surrounded the walls, all facing in to the centre, where a small raised stage waited, decorated in flowers. The stone floor and solid wood walls echoed back the whispered voices of his family as they sat on the benches behind him. The door creaked open and a jolly witch bustled over, stretching out a large hand to Ron.

"Mister Ronald Weasley!" she said in a booming voice, smiling happily and shaking his hand vigorously.

"Hi," said Ron, wincing slightly.

"Now, no need to be nervous! Everything will be just perfect, you have your witness?" she continued, "Now you'll have to speak loudly dear, I'm a little deaf!"

"Uh, right. This is Harry Potter."

"Larry Rotter? You know he looks familiar!"

As Harry patiently explained to the minister, Ron felt more nervous than ever. But it was ten to twelve, Hermione still had ten minutes to arrive, so there was absolutely no reason to be worried. At ten past twelve, Ron was beginning to feel as if he would combust on the spot, or worse, strangle the minister. Where was she? What if she had changed her mind? What if…

The doors swung open and his stomach clenched as Ginny came rushing in, looking pretty in light green robes. She was followed by Mrs Granger, then a short while later Mr Granger, who had a very pale looking Hermione hanging on to his arm for support.

* * *

"I think you'd better tell Ron there's a problem," said Fred, looking at Hermione with a peculiar expression, so that for a few heart stopping moments she thought the charm on her robes had failed. "Hermione can't marry Ron looking like that; she's breaking too many hearts!"

"It's scandalous!" cried George, clutching his heart.

Rolling his eyes, Percy came over looking very smart (not that he normally didn't) in dark blue robes. "You look absolutely wonderful," he said, kissing her hand.

Harry grinned and kissed her on the cheek, but his eyes quickly became fixed on her Maid of Honour as she stood gazing around the small decorated room. Unusually, Instead of blushing, Ginny caught his eye and didn't look away. Hermione sensed that all was not well between the pair, as Ginny turned away from Harry to stand by her mother and refused to look at him. Harry looked away, his jaw clenching tight. Hermione did not have time to scout for information as Ron appeared in front of her and she felt her heart clench at the sight him.

Her gaze never wavered from the man she loved, as he gave a small bow and offered her his arm. Letting go of her father, a little unsteadily, she took Ron's hand clenching it tightly for support. Smiling, he guided her towards the small stage, giving her hand a small squeeze in return.

Accordingly, Harry and Ginny followed them, while the rest of the congregation took their seats on the benches. Hermione felt every thing click in to place, she was no longer nervous now that Ron was holding her, in fact she was ready to take on the world.

During there vows Mrs Weasley started crying and Mr Weasley handed her a tissue, while amazingly Fred and George stayed silent. When they went to sign the registry book, Hermione noticed that Harry and Ginny where giving each other meaningful looks, apparently the significance of the wedding not lost on them.

Hermione felt elated, ever thing was perfect and going to plan.

The wedding is to be continued in the next chapter… keep tuned!

Author's note:

Okay, sorry it took so long to post! This was a tuff chapter! But all the fun wedding things come next… te he.

I'm not leaving personal messages on the end of this one, I'm going to email people in stead. This is mainly due to my impatience with looking through all the messages.

Thanks everyone,

Abforth