Ok, procrastination has begun. I so don't understand why the hell I have to do this assignment, seeing that we didn't even the win the fricking battle, and still the teachers crap on like hooray-for-Gallipoli-we-lost-but-who-cares!-it-was-the-first-time-lots-of-australians-blew-themselves-up!. Let's just say I hate World War 1.

RadcliffeRox24: thanks so much!Yeah, the Beatles rock big time. Maybe there's something about them and Harry Potter, cos my buddy prunz loves them too.

PS: I said my last chapter was my best - well just read it and it was crap. Sorry.

Ok, I'll shut up now. On with the story:

Chapter 8: The Second Wedding

"Harry Potter, I'll kill you for this!"

Harry smiled, rubbing his eyes and crawling out of bed. Putting on his glasses, he dragged himself into the bathroom, finding Rose leaning over the toilet, frightfully green.

Harry gave her an apologetic smile and crouched next to her, pulling back her hair. "Thanks," she smiled, before turning back to the bowl, retching uncontrollably.

Harry hated to see her like this, and made sure he was always there to see her through it.

"You coming out today?" He asked, as Rose drew back from the toilet.

"I don't know, are you sure I'm invited?" Rose asked.

"Rose, you're my wife, of course you're invited."

"Wife, right," Rose said more to herself than to Harry.

"Are you up to it? There'll be cake," Harry tempted.

This was obviously not a very good thing, as Rose cringed, turning back and vomiting all over again.

"Maybe I shouldn't go, I don't know anyone." She said croakily, wiping her mouth with her hand.

"You won't be alone, Hermione's parents will be there, and they're muggles." Harry pleaded.

"Alright, but don't say the 'c' word."

"What? Cake?"

Rose squirmed and threw up yet again.

"You're late." Mrs Weasley called form the kitchen of the Burrow.

Harry sighed, dusting the floo powder from his suit. Helping Rose, who still hadn't got the gist of travelling via the Floo network, off the floor, he took her by the hand, leading her to the kitchen.

There, at the stove was Mrs Weasley, up to her neck in dishes, flowers and food. Seeing them, she beamed and made her way over to the doorway were they stood.

"Hermione's upstairs." She said, kissing Rose on the cheek. Rose smiled and nodded, before leaving her husband and Mrs Weasley alone in the kitchen.

"So, how are you, Mr married man?" Mrs Weasley asked, going back to her preparations.

"Very well, thank you," Harry replied, picking up a tea-towel and one of the wet dishes. "Hey, go get ready. People will be arriving soon." He said, taking a sauce pan out of her hands.

"If you say so," she piped, failing miserably at containing her excitement. With this, she hurried out of the room, leaving Harry alone.

"Oh, hello," Harry turned around, only to find his best friend of nine years pacing around the kitchen.

"Hello," Harry managed through his amusement. "So, nervous?" He asked, going back to the dishes.

"Bloody hell, Harry, I'm getting married! Of course I'm nervous!" Ron sat down at the table. Harry only laughed.

"Hey, calm down, it's not that bad." Ron scowled. "Now, circumstances were different for me, but I can't complain."

"You're so head over heels you can't see straight." Ron muttered.

Harry grinned. "Shut up, I heard that! Listen, it's Hermione. You love her, she loves you. What's there to be nervous about?"

Ron frowned. "What if that's not good enough? She's perfect, Harry. Why would she want to be stuck with me?"

"Listen to yourself! It's too late now. Shut up and go get ready!" Harry and Ron exchanged grins, before going out into the garden to make final preparations.

Circumstances made Ron and Hermione's wedding much larger than Harry and Rose's. A Weasley wedding was huge by tradition and every second person donned bright red hair.

Unlike Harry and Rose's wedding the house was full of old Hogwarts students, all dying of curiosity to see Harry's new wife.

Rose had been completely overwhelmed by the attention she was getting, hiding behind Harry whenever possible.

Parvati and Lavender, forever queens of gossip, were close to exploding with the fun they were having.

"I always thought he'd marry Ginny."

"She's not that pretty."

"I hear she payed him to marry her."

"Maybe she's not a muggle after all. Could be a love spell,"

Strangely enough, Parvati and Lavender had gone to no effort to distance themselves from Harry and Rose, who heard every single word.

"Parvati, Lavender," Harry greeted them, bearing a smug smile equal to one of Malfoy's.

"Harry!" the two replied sweetly.

"Have you met my wife, Rose, yet?" Harry was finding it hard to contain himself.

"Nice to meet you," They replied in chorus, becoming sweeter by the second.

"You, too?" Rose attempted, confused by Harry's approach.

"Well, I have to see Ron." Harry said hurriedly, detaching his arm from around Rose's waist.

"What?" Rose asked, but Harry had already gone. She turned back to Parvati and Lavender, sickly smiles still plastered to their faces. Rose laughed nervously.

"Oh my god, I didn't think I'd make it out alive." Rose leaned on Harry for support, who wrapped a strong arm around her.

"Parvati and Lavender?" Hermione laughed.

"You'd think you and Parvati were soul mates, the way that girl rabbited on." Rose said, playfully poking Harry in the chest.

"No, that would be you." Ron murmured, Harry, being the only one to hear this, sending him the sharpest of daggers.

Okay, I've never been big fan of Parvati or Lavender. Read An Alternate Adventure: Goblet of Fire (longest but best fanfic ever) and you'll understand why.

Ok, well I'm off to do an assignment on the chicken dance for PE now. How pathetic is that? My school is so twisted. Jesus and dancing like poultry. Talk about bright futures.

Love,

Lucy