Author's Note: My longest chapter yet…it's worth a read though, I think. Very emotional. Read on!

Chapter 7

A Black and White Wedding

Dazzling yellow rays of early morning sunlight poured through a window set in one of the topmost floors of the Burrow, illuminating Ginny Weasley's slumbering form. As the brightness shone through her eyelids, Ginny rolled over in her bed, heaving a shuddering yawn. Her ruffled ginger hair hung in her face and she opened her eyes, looking around her small room. A few articles of clothing lay on the floor, and an assortment of parchment and quills were left in disorder on her tiny desk.

Sounds of excitement could be heard coming from downstairs, Fleur's high-pitched expressions discernable among them. Ginny sat up in bed and blinked in the bright sunshine that now filled the room. She tossed the covers off of herself and swung her legs out of bed, pulling on a pair of baggy pajama bottoms as she headed towards the door.

The kitchen was buzzing with people already, and various pots and pans were bubbling and sizzling on the stove. Fleur was sitting at the table in her nightgown along with Hermione, Bill, a younger, paler looking version of Fleur, and, to Ginny's surprise, Tonks. Mrs. Weasley was hovering around the stove, floating from pot to pot. Everyone looked up as Ginny entered. Fleur was the first to speak, which was not a surprise.

"Oh, Ginny!" she cried, positively leaping up from her seat and taking Ginny by the shoulders, steering her over to the table. "We 'ave been waiting for you to come down! I was just about to go up and get you, in fact. Ginny, this is my younger seester Gabrielle, she will be being a bridesmaid with you. Gabrielle, this is Ginny. She is Bill's little seester."

Ginny smiled at the girl, and she smiled shyly back. Fleur beamed widely. Ginny took a seat at the table next to Hermione and across from Tonks.

"Wotcher, Ginny," said Tonks, smiling from beneath her usual spiky, bubble-gum pink hair.

"Hi Tonks," said Ginny, returning the smile. "Hi Hermione."

Hermione grinned at Ginny and greeted her in return. The group launched into friendly chatter about this and that, and the sun rose steadily higher in the sky until Fleur hopped out of her chair for the second time that morning.

"Oh my goodness!" she exclaimed loudly. Everyone looked at her. "Eet is almost nine o'clock! Gabrielle, Ginny, into ze sitting room, we need to get you in your dresses; we 'ave only three hours! 'Ow could I 'ave let time get ze best of me? Come!"

She ushered the two girls from the kitchen, Ginny casting an exasperated look behind her. Hermione smiled sympathetically.

Back in the sitting room Fleur seated both girls on the sofa and stood in front of them, beaming enthusiastically. She pulled her wand out of the pocket of her nightgown.

"I know you girls will adore ze dresses! Accio bridesmaids' gowns!"

There was a faint rustling from upstairs. A few seconds later, two sleek-looking, shimmering gold dresses made their way down the staircase side-by-side.

"Aren't zey gorgeous?" Fleur was practically quivering with excitement. "I supervised ze creation of ze gowns from start to finish…zey are perfect! Aren't zey? Aren't zey?"

But neither Ginny nor Gabrielle had time to answer, for Fleur was already coaxing them out of the room and up the stairs to try on their dresses.

It isn't bad, Ginny thought as she surveyed herself in the mirror ten minutes later. The dress hugged her slender form down to her hips, where it billowed out gently to the floor and revealed two inches of fluffy white tulle at the very bottom. In the back it dipped halfway down her back and a poofy gold bow sat right where the fabric met back together. When Fleur had been taking vigorous measurements of her a few months ago, Ginny had had an idea of something ugly and frilly, but this was elegant and graceful. Thank God, she thought.

As Ginny opened her bedroom door, she peered around the landing before heading towards the stairs. She had made the mistake of thinking it was empty; when she stepped onto the first stair she heard a voice behind her.

"You, um….You look really nice."

Harry was sitting there, leaning against the wall with a book open in his lap. His dark, tousled hair was swept to one side, out of his eyes. Ginny's heart was pounding rapidly in her chest and she clutched the railing.

"Thanks," she said quietly, tearing her eyes away from Harry with great difficulty. She made her way down the stairs still gripping the railing so she didn't trip all the way down.

After Fleur had squealed herself hoarse over how beautiful Ginny and Gabrielle were in their dresses, she moved on to fussing over their hair and running them painstakingly through the exact formations that they were to be in for the wedding, over and over again. She had pulled Ginny's hair into a sleek and elegant ponytail, using Sleakeazy's Hair Potion to transform her normally straight red hair into large curls that cascaded out of the ponytail and down around her face. She had done Gabrielle's hair the same way, though Fleur had left her own hair down. She seemed to think that it was already beautiful looking and did not need too much attention.

Her dress, however, was a different story. There had been about an hour of commotion over Fleur's dress, about a thousand last-minute changes. It was a snow-white, flowing, strapless gown with little gold flowers in sporadic places. The back dipped down and had a bow, like the bridesmaid dresses, but was followed in a long, graceful train. First the flowers on the dress had been pink, and then they had been lavender, and now they were gold. The bow had come on and off about four times, the train's length had been elongated and shortened around that many times, also, and straps had been taken on and off of it once or twice. It was Mrs. Weasley who was doing most of the work while Fleur squealed about what she wanted. As they all quickly discovered when the dress had almost been set on fire, Fleur was no good for performing charms.

The backyard was completely transformed. Ginny's breath caught when she walked out of the back door. Somebody had charmed the hedges that surrounded the yard to bloom with spectacular red and yellow roses, and several white doves flapped around aimlessly within the confines of the yard. Around thirty white chairs had been erected with a wide aisle down the middle of them, and a beautiful white trellised arch with roses and green vines woven through it was sitting on a small, white stage in front of all the chairs. To the right of the stage sat a fully assembled band: cellos, violins, flutes and piccolos. The only thing that was lacking was players.

Finally the time had arrived. Ginny, Gabrielle, and Fleur were right inside the backdoor, while Bill was in the backyard conversing with two people that Ginny did not recognize. Fleur fussed with her poofy dress while the two girls stood in silence. Gabrielle had not said one word to Ginny since they had met; the redhead was starting to wonder whether the young girl could even speak at all.

Many members of the Order had showed up, along with several people that looked as though they would be Fleur's family. The priest had arrived; he was an elderly man with sleek gray hair, dressed in sharp black dress robes, standing on the white stage looking bored. Slowly, people made their way to their seats and Bill took his place on the right side of the stage, clasping his hands behind his back. There was silence for a few moments punctuated only by nervous peeping noises from Fleur, and suddenly the instruments to the right of the stage came to life and started playing a graceful wedding march of their own accord.

"Go! Go!" hissed Fleur to the two girls and they immediately exited the house and walked out into the sun, Gabrielle first while Ginny followed. They walked with poise in time to the music, all heads turned towards them on both sides, and all of a sudden Ginny felt extremely lighthearted. She couldn't stop a small smile from forming on her lips and she made her way behind Gabrielle up onto that white stage, and took her place under the white trellis, opposite from Bill and side-by-side with Gabrielle. Ginny looked across, making to grin encouragingly at Bill, but he was gazing back towards the door from which they had come.

There was Fleur, in her white dress with her platinum hair shimmering beautifully around her. She was carrying a newly produced bouquet of red roses, smiling straight at Bill as she made her way up the aisle in step with the wedding march. Ginny thought she looked rather like an angel with her white hair and white dress and sunlight pouring down upon her; it was like she was glowing.

Everyone else was also obviously captivated by Fleur's appearance, Ginny noticed. All heads were turned now towards her and were following her in her journey up to the white stage. She finally came to a stop next to Bill, her elegant train splayed out behind her. Ginny was grinning now, wondering why she had not been more excited about this before. A wedding was a beautiful thing.

As the priest began to speak in rich, earthy tones, Ginny felt her eyes wandering to the small crowd that had assembled for the wedding. She spotted her own mother first, who was in the front row, dabbing at the corners of her eyes with a handkerchief, dressed in old lavender dress robes. And there was Kingsley Shacklebolt next to her, and Tonks and Lupin were near them (Lupin had an arm around Tonks' waist). There were many other witches and wizards from the Order that Ginny knew only by face, and Charlie was next to Percy, who was looking uncomfortable. Behind them were Ron and Fred and George and Hermione and—

Her heart gave a painful lurch as her eyes fell upon Harry, who was looking straight back at her, which she had not been expecting. Ginny felt her heartbeat speed up miraculously, and suddenly the air around her seemed very warm. The happy feeling was draining out of her as quickly as it had come. Their eye contact lasted for a few moments, his brilliant green eyes boring deep into hers, into her very soul. Suddenly, Ginny felt a searing pain in her chest, and realized that she had stopped breathing. Sucking in a deep breath and wrenching her gaze from Harry's, she looked back up at Fleur and Bill and the priest.

Why does he do that to me? Ginny asked herself furiously, almost fighting back tears. Why do I let him do that to me? I'm my own woman, I don't need him. I don't need him…do I? Why, why, why?

And then it hit her.

I…love him.

She loved Harry Potter.

"I do," said Bill, smiling through the scars on his face and gripping Fleur's hand.

"I do," sniffled Fleur tearily, and Ginny noticed that one of her left fingers was now sporting a small, shiny gold ring, as was Bill's. She had not paid attention to any of the ceremony. Her heart was still pounding rapidly in her chest.

Fighting the urge to kick herself, Ginny watched as Fleur and Bill locked themselves in a passionate kiss, and the small crowd applauded them fondly, bringing the redhead out of her trance-like state.

Once the wedding was over, long buffet tables had been magicked out into the backyard covered with long white tablecloths and weighed down with dishes and dishes of fabulous food. There was chicken, turkey, succulent hams, steaming potatoes, spiced peaches, fourteen delicious puddings, homemade strawberry ice cream, and one enormous white and pink wedding cake. The chairs had been set around about a dozen or more small white tables at which people were sitting, chattering happily and eating.

Ginny watched this scene from inside the back door. She wasn't feeling very sociable at the moment, even though Fleur had tried to drag her outside.
She paced back and forth in front of the open doorway her head spinning with thoughts. It was times like these that she wished that she had a Pensieve, because her head was pounding and it felt like it might explode. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were leaving today. Somehow she knew she had to go with them. If she stayed here she would feel so useless, not knowing what to do with herself.

Nibbling on her thumbnail, Ginny sat down on the stool near the door, putting her head in her hands. They were going to be leaving soon; meaning the guests and Ron, Harry, and Hermione. Just as this thought ran through her mind, Ginny heard voices close behind her and immediately jumped up and hid herself quickly behind the large mahogany wardrobe that stood beyond the stool. From behind the wardrobe she watched as Hermione, Ron, Harry, and her mother entered through the open back door.

"Thanks for everything Mrs. Weasley," said Harry. "You'll never know how much all this meant to me," he added quietly.

Mrs. Weasley sniffled a bit and put her hand on Harry's cheek. "You're as good as my son, Harry. I've always considered you part of the family…you, too, Hermione." She turned to the brunette that stood next to Harry.

"Thank you so much Mrs. Weasley," said Hermione, smiling. "I don't know what we would have done without you."

Everyone looked at Ron, including Ginny.

"Mum," said the blazing redhead, stepping towards his mother. "It's been an excellent seventeen years." He paused for a moment, thinking. "If anything happens…I mean, to me…well…I love you, mum," he said finally. Mrs. Weasley squealed and threw her arms around her son, tears streaming down her face. Ron hugged her back, equally hard.

After what seemed like a long while to Ginny, the mother and son separated and the three teenagers moved towards the fire and the pot of Floo powder. Her heart pounded rapidly in her chest, and all rational thought was pushed to the back of her mind as she stepped out from behind the wardrobe. The four people turned to look at her, each with a look of slight incredulity on his or her face.

"I'm going with you," she said breathlessly, brushing several curls out of her face.

There was a long silence, during which everyone stared at Ginny, apparently lost for words. Mrs. Weasley found her voice first.

"Of course you're not, Ginny," she said curtly, her voice oddly high-pitched. "You're staying here, where you belong with your father and me."

"He's never around anymore, anyway," said Ginny loudly, taking a step toward her mother. "What can I do here, mum? Sit around and watch while You-Know-Who kills the rest of our friends and family?"

"You can stay here and support your family!" said Mrs. Weasley shrilly. "You have no business out there! You're underage, you're not mature enough, and you're--you're the only child I have left at home!" Tears returned to Mrs. Weasley's eyes as she puffed herself up to her full height, which still was not very tall.

"So that's it, isn't it?" shouted Ginny wildly, anger burning inside of her. "You just want to keep me cooped up here forever because you don't want to have to deal with your empty nest syndrome!"

Mrs. Weasley gaped, opening and closing her mouth like a fish out of water. Ginny was so incensed at her mother's unjustness that she had not noticed that Harry had closed in on her from behind.

"Ginny, can I talk to you alone for a moment?" he said quietly in her ear, making her start and turn to look into his intensely green eyes. She stared at him for a few seconds until he turned and headed towards the kitchen. She followed after him.

Harry stopped at the far end of the kitchen, beyond the wooden table, turning to face Ginny. She looked at his soft face, which was rather paler than usual, and bit her tongue, willing herself not to say anything stupid.

"You can't come, Ginny," said Harry abruptly, gazing into her eyes. Ginny gaped at him, shocked. She was sure he was going to offer her words of comfort, tell her that she would be able to come with them somehow.

"But…but…" she stammered. "I don't understand…why not? Why can't I come? All I want to do is to help destroy You-Know-Who, you know that…"

"I know that," said Harry softly. "But…I need to do this on my own…I thought you understood that. Even Ron and Hermione aren't going to help me destroy him. This needs to be my thing…and I don't think I could stand it if you…if anything happened you know…to you." It looked as though every word was causing him pain.

"Harry, I…" Ginny's pulse heightened and the air suddenly seemed very warm. Her head pounded and she swallowed the hard lump in her throat, the butterflies in her stomach fluttering like mad. "I love you," she whispered, her voice wavering.

Harry just looked at her unblinkingly, his chest rising and falling with each slow breath. Ginny waited with bated breath, her insides doing incredible acrobatic tricks. It seemed to take an age for Harry to open his mouth again.

"You can't," he said, barely audible, looking away from Ginny and at an undefined spot on the wall. "You can't. You just…can't."

Ginny shook her head. "Well, it's too late, Harry, because I do. And there's really nothing you, or I, or anyone can do about." She felt tears springing to her eyes and bit her bottom lip, trying to stop them.

"No," said Harry loudly, looking back at her. "No, Ginny. Don't you see? Everyone close to me ends up hurt, or dead in the end. You're too young, Ginny, and too smart, and too beautiful and too….You need to forget about me, you need to get on with your life."

Ginny looked up at Harry. He had placed both hands on the table and was looking down at it, breathing heavily. She stepped closer to him, leaning around so she could look into his eyes, and putting her hand around his chin. She brought his face back up to her level and spoke quietly.

"Harry," she said, her eyes searching his. "I would rather die tomorrow with you by my side then have to face the rest of my life alone."

They stood there like that for what seemed like forever, her hand on his face, staring at each other. His black hair was ruffled, and she felt his warm breath on her hand. His lips were so close…his breath so warm…

Then suddenly Harry promptly pulled himself away from her touch, his breathing ragged as though he had just run a mile. Ginny's fingers tingled where she had touched him, and she lowered her hand to her side, looking down at the floor.

"You can't come, Ginny," said Harry forcefully once again, turning and striding swiftly out of the kitchen, leaving Ginny to stare at the back of his head with a solitary tear running down her cheek.

Author's Note: Aww…well, I hope you liked it. It was very long, no? Are long chapters good or bad? I tend to lean towards shorter chapters. Well read and review: the good, the bad, and the ugly.