Disclaimer: I need more friends with wings...all the angels I know put concrete in my veins...((sigh)) if only I could be a singer...but sadly but voice is bad so I write by NOT making money off of JKR's work.
Hello. Sorry it's taken me forever. I started this chapter a while ago then my computer kind of broke down and yeah...long and boring story. School has really had a crackdown on me lately too but I can promise the next update will come much more sooner. So to the thank yous.
trikkity: Which do you want? Spiderman or Pirates of the Carribean?
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'I dreamed of a wedding of elaborate elegance, A church filled with family and friends. I asked him what kind of a wedding he wished for, He said one that would make me his wife'-Unknown
"Good on you, Ron!" Fred exclaimed, standing up and thumping Ron's back, "You've finally found a woman who's not disgusted by the sight of you!"
"Yeah, Ronniekins," George grinned, "And we had our doubts."
"Shut your m-
"Oh, I can't believe this! My little Ron getting married!" squealed, giving Ron a kiss on the cheek.
"Mum, what're you getting all worked up for? I already told you!" Ron groaned, trying to pull away from everyone's grasp.
However, after he had pulled away, Ron sighed a breath of relief. It was a real stress-reliever to get it over with. Just blurt it out to the family. What was even better was their acceptance of it. Not even snide remarks from Fred and George could wreck this moment of sheer acceptance. Hermione was caught up in a chat with Penelope.
Ron cocked his head and wondered who she'd ask to be her bride's maid. He knew who he wanted for best man. As a matter of fact he was heading for him right now.
"Congrats," Harry greeted, his face oddly red and he had a little scar right under his thumb.
Ron was not too worried about this mark because Aurors were known to always to sport spectacular bruises and cuts thanks to their job. Ron felt lucky to have a safe job even though it was rather boring at times.
"Thanks," Ron replied, smiling, "Be my best man?"
Harry grinned, "Sure."
From behind them Hermione's voice was audible whilst she was talking with Penelope.
"Well I'm not quite sure who I'll ask to be my maid of honor. It's really a very big deal, you know, and I wouldn't want to hurt anyone's feelings afterall," Hermione said, as if she was being completely sensible.
"That is so true. Hurt emotions can really ruin a wedding. That's what I was telling Percy the other day," Penelope added, "But he just doesn't understand. Gets all jumpy when I start the marriage talk."
Ron couldn't help but lean in and whisper, "I wonder why," to Harry.
He laughed appreciatively but was drowned out by Hermione's voice once more.
"Speaking of bad weddings, when I was eight I went to my cousin, Wendy's wedding and the most dreadful thing happened-" Hermione started, barely containing her giggles.
In spite of themselves, Ron and Harry leaned in closer to hear exactly what had happened. The had only to hear snitches of the conversation like 'period' and 'blood everywhere' before pulling away quickly. Ron straightened considerably with a look of sheer horror playing on his face. Harry was quite the same. Touching such topics had been all too much for their not so virgin ears.
"How about we go play a quick game of Qudditch?" Ron asked, looking for any reason to leave the room.
Harry nodded and they swiftly left the room.
"Tell me again why I'm getting dressed up to meet a Wedding Planner?" Ron inquired as Hermione tied up his tie.
"Wedding Planners," Hermione corrected, fixing the knot and leaning back to stare at her mastery.
"Yeah, right. Well same thing. I mean why are we getting all spiffed up? We're the ones hiring them," Ron continued, fidgeting with his tie and making Hermione frown.
"Well I did a bit of research-"
"-as usual," Ron interjected.
Hermione narrowed her eyes, "Yes, well, I did a bit of research and Orla Quirke and Marcel Diorre have each done very hefty weddings for very important people. I've checked out their work and it's impressive. So as I see it, they've impressed us, now we have to impress them so one of them will actually take on the job."
Ron nodded even though he didn't really agree. It was better to agree and nod then to argue with Hermione. He never won those little battles they had. She would always over power him with big words and emotional lingo and he would be left sounding like a jerk.
"So who're we visiting first?" Ron questioned, picking up the two cards from the table.
"Orla and then Marcel," Hermione said, laying out the cards and studying them as if searching for some kind of clue.
Ron didn't quite understand why she cared so much about finding the right wedding planner. If it had been up to him there wouldn't even be a wedding planner. He didn't like the thought of another person helping to decide things that would generally only affect Hermione and himself.
However, at the moment he swallowed his thoughts and stored them away as Hermione and him headed out to meet up with Orla. Hermione had contacted her two nights ago and Orla had agreed to meet them at Diagon Alley Cafe.
The day was warm and playfully sunny and Ron couldn't help but feel rather cheery. Bells chimed as he and Hermione entered the cafe. The place was packed as usual and Hermione glanced at her watch nervously.
"I think she's already here. She told us to meet her at two sharp and it's already fifteen past," Hermione said, breathlessly.
Ron rolled his eyes, "Who cares? Come on, let's go find her."
Ron Weasley did not plan his time around anybody else's. Unless, of course, it was Hermione, or his parents, or Harry and Luna, or any of the other Weasleys for that matter. Alright. Ron Weasley did not plan his time around a stranger's.
Unfortunately Ron and Hermione mistook three different woman and a rather feminine woman in Ron's opinion for Orla before finding the original. Orla Quirke had dark ebony hair yet her eyelashes were pale white. Her eyes, themselves, were blue yet amethyst all the same. She would have been quite ordinary had it not been for those eyelashes and eyes.
"Orla?" Ron asked, timidly.
Her eyes fluttered up to Ron's face and she studied him for a while, "Sit."
Ron and Hermione exchanged brief glances before sitting. Quirke was a rather suitable name for Orla because not only did she speak strangely but her choice in clothing was rather odd too. It was the warmest day imaginable and yet she dawned a skin tight, long-sleeved black robe. A white hand print was stamped on the chest of the outfit and her nails were painted black. Ron was not quite sure what she was trying to be or prove.
Orla stared at Ron and Hermione blankly or was it critically? Ron and Hermione stared back rather confused.
"Well," Orla said, seeming to word the obvious.
Yet Ron and Hermione just were confunded further.
"Well...," Ron repeated, nodding his head.
"Will you not order anything? Coffee, tea?" Orla questioned, seemingly surprised.
The other two agreed, if not to drink something, then to waste time. But it seemed the waiter came and went too fast and once again they were left staring at Orla across from the table.
"So, which one of you are getting married?" Orla asked, finally breaking the silence.
"Erm...," Hermione started, "Both of us."
Orla's eyes widened, "Both of you? I don't do two weddings at the same time. I can only do one of you and you need to meet me seperately."
It was Ron and Hermione's turn to be rather shocked. Ron went so far as breaking down laughing.
"I think you have it wrong, Miss Quirke-
"Call me Orla," Orla interrupted.
"-Orla. Ron and I are getting married to each other," Hermione explained.
Orla raised one smooth eyebrow, "Really? You're settling for this?"
She gestured towards Ron who immediately stopped laughing hysterically. He scowled at her. How dare she?
Hermione nodded, indignantly, "Yes, have you got a problem with it?"
"It? So now I'm an it?" Ron demanded. Yet both woman ignored him.
"Your coffee," a waiter said, setting the coffee on the table.
"No, no, no, dear. I just didn't think, well, actually let's forget about that. So is this going to be a church wedding or an outside wedding?" Orla said, suddenly getting down to the point.
"Huh?" the waiter questioned, obviously dumbfounded.
"Outside," Hermione said.
"They're not talking to you," Ron whispered to the waiter, "They quite enjoy ignoring men."
As the waiter left Ron regretting letting the only other male nearby go.
"Any Muggles?" Orla continued.
Hermione nodded, "Many."
Orla grew silent once more, "You've caught my interest Miss Granger. I enjoy taking on the impossible. Call me when you want me."
She stood and made her leave. As soon as she was out of hearing distance Ron burst out.
"Who does she think she is? Telling you I'm not good enough. Geez, there is no way we're hiring her," Ron declared, thumping a fist on the table and spilling some coffee.
"I don't know, Ron...," Hermione murmured, "I rather liked her."
"'Cause she made it seem like you're better than I am?" Ron asked, getting red.
"Don't be silly," Hermione said, waving her hand and checking her watch, "Oh god, we're late for Marcel!"
"We're so sorry we're late," Hermione apologized, hurriedly, as they joined Marcel at his table.
He, like Orla, had dark hair and dark eyes to match. He was thin and rather evidently foreign. What surprised Ron was how young he looked. Truth be told he looked no older than Ron himself. Yet how could he have planned Mrs. Weasley's wedding?
"Oh, preetty lady! No apolojize!" Marcel said, jumping up and giving Hermione to swift pecks on the each.
She blushed deeply and sat.
"Let me," Marcel supplied, pushing in Hermione's chair for her.
Now Ron was beginning to feel embarrassed for never have done that for her.
Hermione grew ever more red. Marcel sat and smiled at her grandly.
"So, Miz?
"Granger," Hermione said, "But please call me Hermione."
"Ah, Herrrrmeeone. How luv-lee!" Marcel cried.
"Why thank you!" Hermione said, giggling slightly.
"So, my fair lady, iz it tru that such a luv-lee creachure as yoo must get marri-ed?" Marcel questioned.
"Yes, well, Ron asked me so I said yes, of course," Hermione smiled, patting Ron's hand lightly.
"Ah non!" Marcel sighed, "Vhat a loss fer tha men!"
Ron had never thought he'd say this but Hermione's laughter was rather irritating. Now he felt he had to interrupt this-this-little escapade.
"So, Marcel, how is it that you managed to plan my mother's wedding and yet you are so young?" Ron demanded. Hermione glared at him sharply.
"Ah, ah, vell, I am not that Marcel, zurr," Marcel clarified.
"You're not?" Ron and Hermione chorused.
"Then who are you?" Ron inquired.
"I am Marcel'sss son, zurr," Marcel went on, "Mon papa and moi plan tha wed-dings."
"Goodness, that's fascinating. So even wedding planning is a career that can be passed down from wizard to wizard," Hermione said, eyes widening.
"Oui!" Marcel exclaimed, "Yoo already noe mee so vell, miz Hermeeone."
"I don't see how it's fascinating," Ron muttered.
The conversation with Marcel was far worse than that with Orla, in Ron's opinion. All Marcel cared for was one thing. Hermione. He was a slimy, foreign, girlfriend-stealer. Afterwards, as Ron and Hermione traversed through the streets of London he voiced his thoughts to her.
"So, I've been thinking about it and I've decided that Orla is the better choice for the wedding planner," Ron decided, firmly.
"Really?" Hermione said, sounding shocked, "I was about to say Marcel."
"No, no, no," Ron began, "That is not a good idea."
"What ever happened to 'Geez there is no way we're hiring her'?" Hermione implored, a smile twitching at her lips.
"You know I didn't mean that. You're twisting my words," Ron said, nose upturned.
"Mmm, I see...," Hermione said, "Well alright. I don't mind going with Orla."
Ron brightened considerably, "Thanks. You're making this a much more enjoyable experience for me."
He reached over and kissed her cheek. With Marcel out of the way and unable to do any damage, even Orla's odd cockiness couldn't wreck this experience for him.
Author's Note: Hello. Thank you for being so patient with me. I'm totally on crackdown. So no rest for me for a while. Thank you, thank you again.
xoxo
winky