Disclaimer: still not her, but I am really dragging my feet to the wedding scene, for some reason... Probably because I had assumed it would be at the Burrow, and discovered on HP Lexicon it's supposed to be in FRANCE. So, rather than rewrite 18 chapters to accommodate that, I added a magical portal.

EDIT: Wouldn't you know it? JKR apparently decided to have the wedding at the Burrow after all. Since this is all AU after DH anyway, I decided to leave it as is. :)

Stag Night

Harry awoke from the throes of a nightmare, shuddering in a cold sweat and gasping for breath.

"Harry, love, shhh, it's okay, it's just a nightmare," Ginny's voice soothed, her hand stroking his brow.

Awareness rose above the panic and shame crept in. He hadn't had a nightmare like that in a long time. His hands shakily covered his face, blocking Ginny from his vision. After a few deep breaths, he could try to shut out the horrible images that persisted.

"Sorry," he muttered.

She slipped out of bed and he heard her soft footsteps pad down the steps, probably to make him some tea. He added guilt to the repertoire of bad feelings churning through him, curled into a fetal position, tucking Ginny's pillow to his chest. He relaxed as he inhaled her fragrance. The constriction around his heart eased, and he was grateful that she had gone and given him time alone to compose himself. He found his wand and brightened the dim lights Ginny had activated. Nightmares never seemed as frightening in the light. He slowly replayed the dream, trying to determine if it was just an average nightmare or a Voldemort implant. His head throbbed, but it was in his temples rather than his scar.

Ginny quietly re-entered the room, closing the door behind her with her foot, balancing a tea tray in her hands. She frowned seeing Harry curled tightly around her pillow.

"Are you awake?"

"Yeah," he answered without moving.

She sat on the side of the bed where her pillow had been, settling the tea tray near Harry's knees. She sat cross-legged, scooting closer to stroke his forehead.

Relieved that she wasn't pressing for details; Harry lay still for a long time, thinking about the dream. Finally, he sighed wearily and sat up, drawing his knees to his chest. Ginny handed him a cup of tea.

"Thanks." He still couldn't quite meet her eyes. "Sorry I woke you."

Ginny shrugged. "The tea is Mum's secret recipe; it's good for headaches and stress. And don't be sorry. I have my share of bad dreams too, so your turn's coming, I'm sure."

They sipped their tea in companionable silence.

"It was bad, but I don't think it was from Voldemort," he finally said. "Just a product of my own twisted mind, which, frighteningly enough, is worse than anything Voldemort has sent."

Ginny shook her head. "Bad enough to have nightmares, but Voldemort's too, ugh." She rose and collected their tea things, setting the tray on the desk. She dimmed the lights to the barest glimmer, spelled the door and climbed back into bed, facing Harry.

"I don't have any right to be with you," he whispered dully.

"What do you mean?"

"That dream was…beyond horrible. I have no right to ask you to be with me. You could get hurt. Or worse." His voice sounded tired and defeated.

Ginny took a deep breath. "Harry, you do recall that Dumbledore said, 'It's our choices that make us who we are,' don't you? So don't you think it's a fair idea to let people make their own choices? You do have the right to ask me to be with you. It is my choice to weigh my options and make a decision. I've done that, even if you don't ask."

"Then you aren't old enough to make decisions that might get you tortured and killed."

"You've been making those decisions since you were eleven," she retorted.

"No one ever cared if I died before," he shot back.

Ginny closed her eyes and her jaw clenched. "I'm going to ignore that last statement, and I'm not going to argue with you about my age. You know that's not even a valid point. Let's just agree that Voldemort has made both of our lives hell. We've had to grow up too fast so let's move forward together. End of discussion. Now, do you want to tell me about the dream?" she asked. "You don't have to," she added. "I know dreams seem worse at night."

"This one would be pretty awful any time," Harry closed his eyes tiredly. He paused for a long time. "We were at the cottage in Godric's Hollow. Voldemort showed up, and I couldn't stop him," he said tersely. "I couldn't protect you... You should get as far away from me as you can."

"Is that what you'd do, if our situations were switched?" she asked sarcastically. "Oh no wait, I already know the answer to that, don't I. You risked your bloody neck to come after an idiot child you barely knew in the depths of a monster's lair when you were twelve years old."

"That was different; only a Parseltongue could open the Chamber. I was the only one who could help you."

"Well, maybe I'm the only one who can help you now. I'd like to feel needed too, you know."

"You deserve better. You deserve safety, and happiness, and someone who can promise you a lifetime," he whispered.

"No one can do that better than you," she smiled. "You've given me four extra years already. Now quit arguing with me. You know it's pointless, I always win. Actually," she said cheekily, "that's something you might well keep in mind for sake of future arguments. Dad will tell you the trick is to just say 'Yes, dear,' and go along with anything."

"I highly doubt your dad would tell me to agree to all of your requests," Harry finally smiled.

"I guess you'd just have to ask him," she chuckled wickedly. "Now roll over," she pushed at his shoulder.

"Why?"

"So I can rub your back until you fall asleep." She yawned. "I'd offer to rub your front, but you'd just turn me down and I don't handle rejection well at this time of night."

Harry actually laughed as he obediently turned over. "Yes, dear."

"Now we're getting somewhere!" She gently ran her left hand up and down his back in the same soothing motion her mother had always used. Her hand slowed and stopped when she dozed off, and Harry turned to watch her sleep. He gently pushed her to her back and wriggled his arm under her neck. She shifted to fit against his frame and sighed contentedly. His free hand splayed over the soft, bare creamy skin of her stomach as he drifted off, reminding him of the Occlumency projection he'd been practicing earlier in the evening involving chocolate syrup…

The days preceding the wedding were a flurry of activity. Time was spent training and studying in the mornings and at the Burrow in the afternoons and evenings. Hermione found time to transfigure communication devices for the others, upgrade her parents' emergency Portkeys and visit the Hogwarts library to spend time with Crookshanks.

Following the uneventful rehearsal, the boys readied themselves for Bill's stag party. Before they left, Mrs. Weasley threatened the boys that drinking was dangerous and unacceptable. The boys sniggered a bit after she left, double-checked their wands and Flooed to the Leaky Cauldron.

"Shite," Harry groaned as he stepped into the pub to a collective gasp and silence. Trying to ignore the stares and whispers, he, Ron and Neville chose a table in a corner. Harry wished he'd remembered his Invisibility Cloak.

"Way to make an entrance, little brothers!" The twins smirked as they swung into their seats, straddling the chairs backwards. "What are we drinking this evening?" Fred asked.

"Best stick to Butterbeers," Ron warned.

"Oh bollocks," George scoffed. "Quit being an old woman."

"When Death Eaters storm the pub and you're too drunk to defend yourself, you try explaining to Mum why you're dead."

"Oh ickle Ronnikins, you worry too much," Fred said airily. He tapped the boys' shirts with his wand, uttering an incantation none of them recognized.

"What are you doing?" Ron asked suspiciously.

"New Shield Charm," George grinned. "We'll be using it on all the guests at the wedding as well.

"And all the flowers are Dark Detectors. Anyone with a Dark Mark comes within a hundred meters, they scream like banshees," Fred said proudly, as he and George stood to refill their drinks.

"What about dementors? Or Greyback?" Harry asked. "Or giants, snakes, vampires, banshees, hags, or guests under the Imperius?"

"Well, vampires won't really be a problem, unless there's an unexpected solar eclipse all afternoon." Charlie said as he dropped into one of the chairs vacated by the twins. "But my dragons should be able to handle some of the Dark traffic."

Harry raised a brow. "Did you happen upon a nest of Snaggletoothed Sungliders, by any chance? Or are we talking about Hungarian Horntails?"

"These aren't nesting mothers," Charlie grinned. "They're trained fighting dragons. And who do you know with a nest of Sungliders?" he asked interestedly.

"No one," Ron said. "but Luna wants one for a pet."

Charlie shrugged. "I'll see what I can do."

"Isn't it illegal to have dragons as pets?" Harry asked, surprised to hear Sungliders even existed.

"Well, Sunnies aren't real dragons," Charlie grinned lazily. "They're just flying lizards."

"I suppose you have a batch of Nargles in your pocket as well?"

"Nah, those hibernate in the summer. They're only out in the winter, as they have a thing for mistletoe," he said.

"Charlie, have we got a girl for you." Ron grinned.

Harry, Ron and Neville regaled Charlie with tales of Luna; her longtime act of being a ditzy blonde weirdo with a fascination for strange, invisible creatures, her odd taste in jewelry, and her unconventional outlook on life in general.

Charlie shook his head. "I don't know which is more disturbing: the fact that there are three teenage boys playing matchmaker, or the fact you thought I need dating assistance. Thanks, really, but didn't you say she's in Ginny's class? Bit of an age gap, wouldn't you say?"

"Almost the same as Bill and Fleur," Ron argued.

"Still, I'm a bit old to be dating fifteen-year-old little girls." Charlie rolled his eyes.

"She's sixteen." Harry corrected. "They're in the same class, but Luna's birthday is before Ginny's. She's legal."

"Being sixteen might make it legal, but it doesn't mean it's right." Charlie glared at Harry. "And the fact you seem to have an interest in a certain birthday makes me think we need to have a little chat, Harry."

"Oh hell," Harry muttered, closing his eyes and rubbing his forehead.

"So, Neville..." Ron tried to steer the conversation away from Ginny and Harry. "Are you dating anyone?"

Neville coughed on his Butterbeer. "Erm, not exactly, no, not really," he stammered, but a pink flush crept up his neck.

"Methinks he doth protest too much." Ron grinned and wiggled his eyebrows. "Who is she, Nev? C'mon, you can tell us."

"Ah, well, I did ask someone to the wedding," he mumbled, his face reddening further. He stared at the tablecloth, tracing the floral pattern with a thumbnail.

"Oi, who's the lucky bird then?" Ron pressed, still grinning like an idiot.

"Hannah Abbot," Neville said quietly.

"She's nice," Harry said. "Sad about her mum last year."

Neville nodded. "I sent a plant to her after the funeral, and we started owling a bit after that."

"How is she?" Ron asked, grin effectively wiped off his face.

Neville shrugged. "She's anxious for school to start again. Her last owl said it's worse being at home. She wants to be in the D.A. again, and hopes it meets more often. Mostly we talk about plants and things. She asked if I could tutor her in Herbology to help her catch up with what she missed. I sent her all my class notes and assignments to help her keep up with her schoolwork."

Charlie stood, casting a final suspicious glance in Harry's direction. "I have to make a toast. Stick around, Harry, I think the Weasley boys are going to have a little discussion with you this evening."

Harry looked imploringly at Ron, who shrugged. "I doubt they'll kill you. Emasculate you, possibly…"

"Where are you getting this new vocabulary, Ronald?" Harry's voice dripped sarcasm. "Read any good dictionaries these days? Wonder if Mr. Granger knows just what kind of studying is going on. Be a shame if he accidentally found out."

Ron flushed and avoided his eyes. "All right, all right, I'll talk with the brother brigade. I have nothing to do with anything they plot anyway, so it probably won't help much."

"Ahem," Charlie had magically magnified his voice, bringing conversations to a halt. "We are here this evening to celebrate Bill's final evening of freedom." He paused for applause while a magic spotlight, courtesy of the twins, focused on Bill, who held up a hand to the glare, squinting. Lupin conjured him a pair of sunglasses.

Charlie continued his speech, concluding with, "Many happy years, mate! Cheers!"

Everyone raised their drinks to the toast.

Lupin wandered over, exchanging pleasantries with a few wizards along the way.

"So when are you ever going to marry Tonks?" Harry asked.

"I don't know why that is such a topic of conversation." Lupin shook his head. "I've been asked that very question a dozen times tonight."

"They just want you to know they approve." Harry smiled. "Despite your reservations."

"My reservations were perfectly valid. Fourteen years of age difference can be a hindrance."

"Good thing you were so immature in your misspent youth then," Harry said dryly. "She had time to catch up."

Lupin gave him a sidelong glance. "I'm a werewolf, I'm dangerous and have no prospects."

"I'd say your prospects look pretty bright. You could manage and consult for the twins' shop, you could start your own mini-Hogwarts for werewolves, you could work with Hermione to develop a better potion than Wolfsbane…" Harry shrugged. "Lots of ways to apply your talents."

"The Ministry has made it very nearly impossible for werewolves to hold jobs."

"The Marauders did the impossible many times over, from what I've heard," Harry said dismissively. "Though I think it'd be helpful to get Umbridge sacked first." He cocked his head in thought. "Wonder what Firenze is up to these days." His lips quirked at the corners and his eyes narrowed for a moment.

"Oh, speaking of the Marauders," Harry continued. "I found a book that seems to have been Sirius's. Do you want it?"

Lupin gave him an odd look. "Sirius only voluntarily bought one book in his life, I think. If you have the one I know about, you just go ahead and keep it." He grinned. "May it serve you well."

"Yeah, well, my main problem is finding a place to hide it," Harry said, disgruntled.

Lupin chuckled. "Sirius charmed to look like an Arithmancy book to anyone but a Marauder."

"Really?" Harry was impressed. "So is that charm still working? Why can I see it?"

"Must be in your genes."

"Actually, yeah, it is." Harry pulled it out of his pocket and enlarged it.

Lupin raised his eyebrows. "Those weren't the...nevermind."

"Neville, what book is this?" Harry asked, as Neville sat down after getting another bottle of butterbeer.

Neville paused to glance over at the cover. "Arithmancy for Arses, by Urnum Burzup."

"So here I've been sweating bullets, hiding this from everyone and they couldn't see it anyway. Sheesh." Lupin laughed, clapped Harry's shoulder and walked off to find Bill. Ron had returned to the table, toting a portable chess set. He challenged Neville to a match, so Harry propped his book up to read.

"Harry, what the bloody hell is that?" Ron gasped, aghast.

Harry jumped. "What?"

"You're reading an Arithmancy book at a stag party?" he whispered, scandalized. "Put that away! People will see!" He glanced around for witnesses. "Next thing, you'll have one of those Arithmancy triangle block things like Hermione. They'll think you've gone round the twist!"

"Nothing new, that," Harry said absently, tilting his head sideways in puzzlement as he gazed at a page, finally turning the book upside down.

"Merlin, Harry, first you act like Hermione and now Luna." Ron looked alarmed. "Did you take something off the twins? You should know better than that. Let's get you home."

"Okay," Harry agreed readily. If nothing else, he could avoid Charlie for the evening. And maybe he could snuggle up with Ginny on the couch and practice a few of these new techniques right out of the book. Neville offered to go back with him, as he was not of age either.

"You stay here and have fun, Ron," Harry urged. "Bill wants you here, I'm sure."

Ron looked at him suspiciously, so Harry told him he just wanted to spend some time with Ginny.

"Ah." Ron nodded, glancing back at the room full of redheads. "Gotcha." He frowned irritably. "Just don't do anything that'll make me regret covering for you."

"Right. See you later then."

The first thing Harry heard when he spun into the Floo at the Burrow was Luna's voice, "Oh look, someone's coming. Maybe our strippers are here!"

He stopped dead in his tracks. Strippers? What the bloody hell was he about to walk in on? Then Neville crashed into him when he Flooed through. Harry held his arm out to stop his friend from going through. He held his fingers to his lips and turned back to listen.

"Strippers? Who ordered strippers?" Ginny asked.

Hermione's voice sounded annoyed, "Well, if the boys can have them at the stag party, we should have some at our little hen party here, don't you agree? Fair is fair."

"Oh 'Erminee! I am zo touched! I would love to tuck money in ze trousers of ze strippers! And zere pants also! I will get Gabby! She will love eet!" Fleur's voice sang.

"That's a wonderful idea, dear," Mrs. Weasley said.

Neville and Harry stared at each other in horror. "Maybe we ought to go to Headquarters? Or back to the Leaky," Neville whispered. "I think we're interrupting something here."

"Yeah, why don't you just hop out and get us some Floo powder," Harry retorted.

Neville shot him a look.

Harry suddenly got suspicious. "Hang on, she wants to bring Gabby to watch strippers? Gabby's like…ten." He snorted. "They're having us on." He ducked out to a room full of women in pyjamas. Neville followed, and they brushed soot off their clothes, carefully keeping their eyes turned away.

"Erm, yeah, we're underage, so we came back early." Neville, crimson faced, seemed to find something intriguing to catch his stare on the ceiling. "So we'll just, er, head on up to Ron's room or somewhere."

"We'll just go and leave you to your little party here." Harry propelled Neville into the kitchen and out the back door.

"Girls are so very scary." Neville shuddered as they walked to the pond.

"Mmm," Harry answered distractedly, looking out over the water. "I'm sure they didn't hire strippers. Mrs. Weasley would never allow that sort of thing. Ron tipped them off we were coming I bet. The whole thing was a joke." He stooped to pick up some smooth, flat stones, skipping them out over the water.

"Good idea, coming out here," Neville said. "It's too early to be holed up in Ron's room for the rest of the night."

Harry raised a brow. "Not only that, but would you have wanted to walk up those stairs with a room full of giggling girls staring at your bum?" He pulled the tiny book out of his pocket and tapped it with his wand. He sat in the grass beneath a tree.

Neville sat next to him, thoughtfully chewing a blade of grass, leaning back on his hands with his legs stretched out in front of him. "So what's that book really about?"

Harry chuckled. "What makes you think it's not about Arithmancy? I'll have you know I do have one of those 'Arithmancy triangle things' Ron mentioned."

Neville shot him a look of utter skepticism.

"I do!" Harry laughed. "Though any Muggle would recognize it as something else entirely."

"You don't read textbooks for fun, Harry," Neville pointed out. "In fact, I don't think I've ever seen you read for fun, unless it was about Quidditch. And if that book was about Quidditch, you wouldn't bother disguising it…" His eyes narrowed as he regarded Harry for several moments. "Girls," he suddenly grinned triumphantly. "You've got a book about girls, haven't you."

"Keep your voice down," Harry hissed.

"Can I see?"

"Sure." Harry handed the book to him.

As soon as Neville touched it, his eyes widened and he looked back at Harry in awe. "Wow, does it just change when you touch it?" he asked.

"You can see the real book now?" Harry looked alarmed.

"Yeah!" Neville flipped through some pages. "Holy harpies, Harry," he gasped, eyes riveted to some of the pictures.

"Hold it up, maybe it only works for the one reading it," Harry said.

Neville obliged, but Harry still saw the real cover and title.

"You can test it on Ron later," Neville suggested.

Harry winced. "Ron would probably hex me and burn the book."

"Can I borrow it when you're finished?" Neville asked hopefully.

Harry looked at him appraisingly. "Things are going well with you and Hannah then?"

"I think there could be potential." Neville grinned. "No need to ask about you and Ginny if you're already on that chapter."

"I'm reading ahead," Harry said wryly. "Uncle Moony explained some things to me, but you can imagine how successful that was."

"He was a good professor, that probably went a whole lot better than the talk I had with my Uncle Algie." Neville gave him a sidelong glance. "Somehow, I still can't quite relate how birds and bees fit in the picture with pistils and stamens. None of that was as bad as an old, wrinkled man explaining the benefits of self-pollination, though."

Harry laughed, "Oh that definitely beats my story," he chortled, flopping down on his stomach, propping himself up on his elbows. "C'mon, we can both read."

The next morning dawned bright and clear. Ginny sneaked into the boys' room and crawled into the camp bed with Harry. "Rise and shine, sleepyhead," she whispered, kissing him awake.

"Mmmmrrgrrhhh." He snared her with his arm and rolled, tucking her half underneath him and pinning her to the bed.

"Harry," she giggled, "Wake up, it's time for breakfast."

He growled and pretended to bite her neck.

Ginny muffled a shriek. "I'm not breakfast, tempting as that idea sounds." She worked her hands loose and started exploring.

"You realize we're not alone," Harry finally opened his eyes.

Ginny shrugged, "Ron's dead to the world, he didn't get in until after two, and Neville…eh, he can watch."

"You girls must have stayed up quite late." Harry frowned, trying to keep track of her busy hands. He ran his tongue around his teeth. "Did you brush my teeth? Why do I taste mint?"

Ginny grinned. "New spell I tried out." Her lips sought his and her tongue did her own investigation. "Seems to have worked like a charm," she smirked.

Harry sighed. "I ought to go shower. Today is going to be a long day."

"Want me to come wash your back?" she suggested.

"Much as your mum appreciates helpfulness and water conservation, I somehow doubt she'd go for that as an excuse. And I know your brothers wouldn't. I think Charlie was organizing a lynch mob last night just because I know when your birthday is."

"Ah, Harry." She patted his shoulder comfortingly. "They only hunt people they love. Funny they didn't threaten to burn you at the stake, though. That's one of their favorite tricks."

"They may have." Harry shrugged. "I didn't really stick around long enough to find out."

"Why were you discussing my birthday, anyway?" she asked brightly. "Have you been shopping?"

"No, actually, we were talking about Luna's birthday," he said vaguely, "Ron was trying to convince Charlie that he and Luna should get together, since they both have a thing for weird creatures. Charlie said he didn't want to date a little fifteen-year-old, so I pointed out that Luna already had her birthday, and somehow he got the idea I was counting down the seconds until your birthday, and… well, anyway, I'm not really in any hurry to have a discussion with your hostile mob of brothers."

Ginny laughed.

"Ginny, shut up and get out of my room," Ron groaned. "Ohhh my head."

Ginny hopped out of the bed with an innocent look on her face. "What's that Ron? Your head hurts? Why would that be, Ron? What took you so long to get home, Ron? Who do you think got stuck comforting Hermione while you were out ogling strippers until two in the morning? And Ron, I would say my presence in your room--fully clothed--is much more appropriate than your presence in my room at two in the morning, in the state you stumbled in! Now get your arse out of bed and downstairs for breakfast!"

Ginny flounced from the room, blowing Harry a kiss on the way out.

"Oi, mate," Ron moaned, "Good luck with that one. She's sadistic."

"There were strippers?" Neville asked blearily, lifting his head from his pillow.

Once everyone had showered, dressed and eaten, they began hauling food and decorations into the arched garden trellis. Harry watched carefully as Mr. Weasley carried an armload of roses through the arch but did not exit the other side. Tentatively, Harry filled his arms and followed.

Stepping out into a grassy vale surrounded by stately trees, Harry gasped in amazement. Near a babbling brook, rows and rows of chairs were lined up, separated by a center aisle. Wildflowers bloomed in abundance, and he could just make out the soft drone of lazy summer insects.

"Where in the world are we?" he wondered aloud, noting that the sun was in a different position in the sky.

"Somewhere in France," a voice behind him stated. "And don't think you've escaped us, Harry." Charlie grinned malevolently.

Harry raised a brow at the redhead before glancing over his shoulder and shouting, "Hey, Luna! Come here! Charlie thinks he knows where you can find a Sunglider nest!"