"Who would have thought this day would come?" Harry thought to himself as he sipped his water and watched the happy couple dance. Just one hour ago he had been trying to keep Ron from hyperventalating. He had dusted him off when he fainted and talked him through the feelings of anticipation. He had run around trying to find Ron's boutonniere. Now he was sitting at the reception trying not to think about the fact that his two best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger—well, now Hermione Weasley—were in love, and he, the Famous Harry Potter was alone. There was nothing to suggest this marriage while the three were at Hogwarts, but after two years and a quiddich game at which Ron confessed his undying love to Hermione, here we were.

Just as Harry thought he might be sick, Hermione came over and asked him for a dance. He is, after all, the best man. Ron winked at him as he led the bride onto the dance floor. Harry had never seen a more beautiful bride. A beaming Hermione looked positively radiant, and her dress was amazing. The bodice was fitted and laced up in the back but when it hit her waist it burst into a cascade of white silk and lace.

"I can't believe it, Harry! I just can't! This is the happiest day of my life. Thank you for always being there Harry. Don't you think for a minute anything will change. The minute we get back from Italy, you are going to come over all the time and it will be just like the old days!" Harry seriously doubted this, but he smiled and congratulated her. She must have sensed the loneliness in Harry's voice, but she couldn't think of anything to console him.

As they continued to dance, Harry glanced over Hermione's shoulder to see a gorgeous girl in a pale pink bride's maid dress. It looked as though the girl had done some "self alteration" judging from the raw edges of the off-the shoulder dress and the uneven hemline that fell right below her knees, showing off her tanned legs and pink satin stilettos. She whipped her blond head around causing her curly hair to hip her face and brush her hooker-red lips before settling around her shoulders.

"Oh, that's just Magali," a frowning Hermione said, following Harry's gaze. "She's my cousin, unfortunately," she added with distaste.

Now that Harry thought about it she did look very similar to Hermione; curly hair (although Hermione's only recently made the switch from bushy to curly), same bone structure and build, and deep brown eyes that glittered in the moonlight. He wrenched his eyes off of her and gave Hermione one last twirl before returning her to Ron, who was looking very merry indeed.

They all sat down at a table with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred and George, and Ginny. It was a little squished; thirteen people around a ten person table; but who would have been moved? Harry tried to discreetly glance around to find Magali, but quickly abandon the idea when a waiter showed up with chocolate éclairs.

One hour and a glass of champaign later, Harry got up to go to the restroom and found himself standing face-to-face with Magali, but before she could stop herself, her pina colada dumped all over Harry's tux.

"Oh my gawd I am soo sorry!" she gushed. "I'll get a towel." But when she looked up to see Harry smiling, she burst out laughing. Harry could not help but notice she had the cutest, most infectious laugh he had ever heard. Soon they were both sitting at the bar laughing and talking. Harry soon found out that Magali was Irish-American. She had the faintest Irish accent mixed in with her American drawl; it only surfaced when she was nervous, or as far as Harry could tell, when she got mad. He could predict that she had the famous Irishman's temper. He supposed it was inherited from her mother, as the Grangers were pretty mellow.

They drank and talked about anything and everything, the exception being magic. Harry skirted the issue, not being sure if she was a witch or not. He couldn't afford to bring it up in case she didn't know about Hermione and the rest of them.

The music began to fade and Harry looked up to see Ron and Hermione holding hands and walking towards the exit with the entire room following them. Harry leapt off the barstool to follow them, but all of a sudden, he felt a woozy feeling in his stomach and a throbbing feeling in his head. He staggered back as Magali chuckled.

"Don't you want to see them off?" he asked her.

"You know what, you go ahead. I'll wait right here. I really don't think Hermione will want to see me."

"No, if you're staying I will too—" but she cut him off.

"Don't be stupid, you are the best man! Go now," she answered and added a little push for affect. Harry gave one last glance at Magali, who seemed very absorbed in her vodka tonic and bounded out the door to see off the couple. Everyone was waving and throwing rice on them as they walked to the limo.

Harry pushed through the crowd to hug his best friends before they left for Italy on their honeymoon.

"Have fun, you two," he whispered, "and call me when you get in."

"Don't worry Harry, we'll send you loads of owls!" Hermione said.

Harry then opened the door and helped them inside the white stretch. Then, with one last goodbye handshake from Ron and a peck on the cheek from Hermione, he shut the door and waved until all he could see was a white dot against the black sky.

"How are you holding up Harry?" a familiar voice said as he felt a pair of strong hands grasp his shoulders.