The Great Hall was packed full on the morning of the ceremony, with a thousand people if there was a single one, all jostling and rustling and whispering to each other in excited tones. The only exception to this teeming press of folk was a small, but noticable gap around Pennywise the clown, whom the gathered celebrants seemed to want to avoid all contact with. He looked slightly hurt by this, but being used to it after decades of inspiring terror into the hearts of almost all who looked upon him; he was able to take the snub philosophically, whilst also making note of the ones with children for later.

It was widely supposed that he must be on the groom's side - indeed in his infinite Machiavellian cunning, he had said as much to the usher and now stood next to such evil luminaries as Lucius Malfoy, grandfather of the groom and paterfamilia of the wider Malfoy clan, Zombie Hitler, who was delighting everyone with his repetroire of racist jokes, and Lady Gaga. The truth was that Pennywise knew none of these people, he'd gotten addicted to the glamour and romance of weddings during one of his more notorious killing sprees back in the 1920s and had been gatecrashing them ever since. If he ever got found out, he'd turn into the guest's worst nightmares and terrify them all until they left him alone, or called off the wedding. He was happy with either outcome, being as bitter as he was malevolant. Unfortunately for wizards, the spell 'ridikulus' did not work on Pennywise's species, although he had many Boggart cousins and they each looked upon the other with respect, sometimes teaming up to inflict maximum punishment on the innocent people they daunted, then murdered.

The only person Pennywise actually knew at the ceremony was Snape, and that was only because they happened to frequent some of the same sewers from time to time. They also shared the same psychiatrist, and would regularly meet in the waiting room and pretend not to know each other, whilst studiously pouring over an out-of-date 'country life' magazine, as if it wasn't complete shit with almost no entertainment value whatsoever.

One of the most remarkable things about the wedding was the lighting, completed by the Hound just moments before the first guests arrived in the Great Hall. He had somehow contrived through an almost impossibly complex array of candles, mirrors, pulleys, a smoke-machine, randomly dangling crystals at mathematically precise intervals and mild neurotoxins; to cause the air to glow with a radiant, golden light which made the scene look like something out of a fairytale.

Tywin Lannister - who had some experience in the movie business - had been so impressed with the set up that he later recommended The Hound to movie director John McTiernan, who Tywin had worked with on the Arnold Schwarzeneger adventure-comedy Last Action Hero. The Hound had been delighted to work with the man behind his all time favourite Christmas film - this being Die Hard - and had gone on to win multiple awards for his inventive and novel lighting displays. He received a Hollywood star in 2040, and a lifetime achievement award in 2047; retiring to his own private island not long after, a contented and happy man.

Suddenly a hush descended around the room as the large doors at the head of the hall swung open, and Hermione appeared, taking slow, purposeful forward steps. As she entered the chamber, music went up; it seemed to fill the cavernous space with it's freeform jazz stylings.

"Skee-Be-Dee-Do-Wa-Wop-Ba-Da-Ba-Doh-Bop-" Sang Tyrion and Flich, dressed in matching lilac suits, with ruffed shirts and sparkly top hats. "Dab-Ba-Do-Wop-Wap-Wib-Ske-Diddle-De-Be-Bop-Bap-Bip-"

Snape started screeching on a trumpet, sounding like an angry elephant in a pure-helium atmosphere. If he'd ever played before in his life, it didn't show.

"RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAW-" He shrieked at odd intervals. "BWRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP-"

Voldemort stood at the end of the aisle in his plum kaftan, clicking his fingers and quivering excitedly to the fierce freestyle.

"Yes!" He kept muttering to himself at particularly unexpected motifs. "He knows time, baby! He knows time!"

A succession of formal footwear began wheeling ballistic arcs through the air towards Snape; he sucessfully ducked the first volley, but was roundly battered on the follow-up. He crawled off stage as the chairs began to fly, weeping bitter tears of humiliation, and bleeding heavily from cuts to his scalp and face. This delighted Voldemort even more; he seemed to consider violence a sort of music of itself, and bopped his head ecstaticly to Snape's degredation, forefinger and thumb still clicking away rapidly.

Hermione was wearing a white, Louis Vuitton wedding gown, cut low around the bosom with a delicate lace front for modesty. The dress hugged her waist, forming a series of artful creases before billowing out in overlapping, diagonal pleats all the way to her dainty, crystal-shod feet. Around her neck she wore a thin silk choker, clevery woven over itself in a complex, beautiful pattern, before ending in a bow. She carried a ravishing boquet of white dahlias, silver brunia, coral peonies, spray roses, and Versilia roses, bound together with gold ribbon.

The gorgeous bride kept looking around the hall in anticipation, as if she was expecting to see someone. She leant anxiously over to Dany. "Have you seen my best friend Sebastian?" She whispered. "He was supposed to be here this morning; little florid chap- Caribbean accent?"

Dany shrugged to indicate that she had no idea who Hermione was referring to.

Following in the bride's wake - looking giddy as a pair of schoolgirls - were the bridesmaids, Dumbledore - going by the moniker 'Deedee' for the day; and Gandalf, who was to be known as 'Geedee'. They wore matching peach Karl Lagerfeld dresses with gold bows in their exquisitely braided, flowing silver hair. On their feet were glittering golden splippers and they carried small boquets of bicolour calla lillies, the salmon-pink spathes bleeding into golden lustre.

It is no exagerration to say that there was not a dry eye in the house. The assembled throng looked on with happiness and wonder, none moreso than Pennywise the clown who was noisily blowing his nose on a child's bloody, severed arm; he lived for these moments.

At Hermione's shoulder was a very proud looking Dacao Malfoy. He was wearing his fetching twill dressing gown and tartan slippers combination, and had magically grown large Victorian-style gentlemen's whiskers just for the occasion. He smiled elatedly at Hermione, taking her in with a fatherly look of approval.

"You look magical." He whispered, in her trembling ear."

Hermione - forgetting her anxiety - beamed with pleasure.

"If I've been too hard on you, I'm sorry my dear." Malfoy continued, stepping slowly between the two rows of weeping guests. "It's just I only want what's best for you, you're so talented, so capable, so... brilliant!" He cleared the lump that was rising in his throat. "The world is your oyster my sweet summer child, and today you've made me the happiest father in the world; you have never looked more beautiful."

Hermione's eyes shone as she fought back tears.

"Skal-Ad-A-Bee-Bo-Do-Skoop-De-Ba-Da-Baw-Bop-De-De-Do-Wop-Wap." Scatted Tiny-T and Grandmaster Filch in perfect unison, now tapdancing on their respective podiums.

After what seemed like a lifetime they arrived at the end of the Isle, where Voldemort waited; he was looking over one shoulder and grinning from ear to ear. Draco reached out a hand and gave him a fatherly squeeze of the shoulder, and then nodding his head, he gave his precious daughter away.

The priest was a small man with a flat nose, he was missing an ear and his teeth flashed brown and rotten when he gave the bride a leering smile.

"Craster!" Hermione exclaimed, recognising the man. "I- I didn't realise you were a voodoo priest, I er- thought you were into scientology."

Craster looked at his feet and seemed a bit forlorn. "I ran out of money." He mumbled. "Went back to the only thing I know, the religion of my own people; Louisiana Hoodoo."

Voldemort reached out a cold, pale hand and wrapped his long fingers around the older man's elbow. "You never truly left brother, but it's good to have you back all the same."

Craster brightened a bit at this. "I need to ask you a few questions before we begin." He said, looking first at the bride and then at the groom, who both nodded serious assent.

"Do you know of any reason why the Loa might object to this union? Speak now my children, before its too late."

Hermione bit her lip and opened her mouth to talk. She gaped like a fish for a few moments and then finally spoke. "It's just- we're just- I mean, not really- but technically, I suppose-"

Voldemort smiled indulgently. "I think my dear bride-to-be is trying to tell you that we are siblings."

Craster smiled widely when he heard this. "Siblings!" He leered, licking his ruddy lips and looking almost deranged with happiness. "Siblings-" He suddered and closed his eyes as if to savour the effect the word was having on him. "The most sexual marraige of all!" He ate Hermione up with deranged eyes. "Worry not chile, this is no problem in our religion; in fact it's a bonus! I'll even do the ceremony for free if you let me join in?"

Voldemort looked at Hermione appealingly, it was obvious the answer he was hoping for. Hermione was repulsed by the old lecher in front of her, but being very attuned to her beloved's moods and desires, she granted him this wish on their wedding day - with one caveat.

"You may join in," she told Craster. "But only after our honeymoon; until then I want my gorgeous husband entirely to myself."

"Such wisdom in one so fair an' young." Craster marvelled, becoming erect. "It's a deal." He began shaking a voodoo rattle in one hand, whilst scattering some sort of hard, wheat like substance over the floor with his other. In a flurry of movement, so quuick as to be almost a blur, he produced some frozen chicken breasts from one sleeve and a rubber snake from the other.

"Technically these are supposed to be alive-" He confessed to the pair apologetically. "But I was stopped by the police on the motorway and they confiscated my travelling petting zoo. I had to make do with what I could find at the rest stop."

"It happens." Said Voldemort philosophically, giving the celophane-wrapped chicken a friendly pat. "Good chook." He cooed. "Nice little chookie."

Hermione looked at him with a fierce pride, blinking seeds out of her irritated eyes.

The rest of the ceremony passed like a happy dream. Craster drew shapes in the cornmeal and danced about, invoking spirits to watch the union and trying gain their approval with offerings of an A-Z road atlas and a can of diet Sprite. When it was all over, Voldemort and Hermione kissed, whilst Craster rubbed vigorously at something in his pocket; then everyone cheered and gold and silver streamers shot into the air, as if by magic.

Next it was time for the reception. With a wave of Deedee's nobbled wand, several large tables appeared around the hall, covered in fine white linen and laden with gleaming silver cutlery. As the guests seated themselves, Dumbledore cleared his throat and began to talk.

"Ladies and gentlemen." He gazed around the room fondly. "Thank you all for joining us here today for this, most magical of occasions. Dinner will be served in just a moment, but before we all become too befuddled with Snape's excrement- I mean excellent feast, please put your hands together for the best man, father of the bride, father of the groom, and father of all our hearts- Mr Draco Malfoy!"

People began banging cutlery on the tables and the cry went up of "Speech! Speech!"

Draco stood up, rumpled notes in hand and gazed around the room benevolently until absolute silence had fallen.

"Ladies and gentlemen... and Snape." He began, as Snape wailed unhappily from down in the kitchens at the slight. "Never before has such a magestic gathering of notable luminaries come together for half so auspicious an occasion. It is my deep privelage and honour to address you here today, in my capacity of groom's best man." He tipped his head to Voldemort. "You know," Malfoy drawled on, "when this guy over here called me up at three in the morning, breathlessley gibbering about 'finding the one'; I must admit I thought he'd discovered another innocent baby he wanted to slaughter-"

A slight titter went up around the room. Voldemort slapped his thighs in delight.

"'No!' He shouted." Malfoy continued.

"'I'm talking about a union, an alliance, a merger of two perfect souls-'"

He took a sip of water. "Surely not!" I said. "Those horcruxes exist to keep you safe!

'Don't be silly!' Voldemort chided me. 'I'm talking about another person entirely; they're the wittiest, charmingest, sexiest-'

'Look, Voldy- I'm flattered...' I began."

Another small chuckle went up around the room.

"But it turned out he was talking of someone else entirely!" Draco went on. "Well, love is blind after all."

Malfoy turned his attention to Hermione. "I'm joking of course." He smiled. "Just look at her though- just look everybody." He took her in with watery eyes as the crowd went 'aaaah'.

"My little girl, all grown up, so kind, so brave... so beautiful. I think I feel the bittersweet pangs that every father must feel on his daughter's wedding day. On the one hand of course, I'm overcome with pride; I'm so very proud of what she's become." He buffed Hermione's shining bald head with a tender shirtsleeve and gave her a soft kiss on her ruined nose. "But on the other, I feel a great, pressing sadness..." He let it hang. "Yes indeed, I feel a great pressing sadness, knowing as I do what happened to Voldemort's previous wives." Draco sighed dramatically. "But enough! Enough about all those shallow graves in Little Hangleton, the desperate finger marks on the inside of makeshift coffins; this is no time to talk about the eight separate police investigations-"

Voldemort, beaming broadly wagged a long, indulgent finger at Malfoy. "Naughty naughty!" He chided, seeming well-pleased.

"As a great man once said," Malfoy resumed. "Love means never having to say you're sorry; which is just as well as Voldemort lacks even the ghost of a conscience." He put an arm around a worried looking Hermione and gave her a comforting squeeze.

"But no one could be more delighted, more proud, more privileged to be here today; and I know I speak for everyone when I say-" He raised a glass of champagne. "To the happy couple, long may they live in wedded bliss!"

Everyone tapped silver spoons on their raised glasses, before cheering and taking a good long draught.

After the speech came the food, lovingly crafted and prepared by Snape, who had not slept in two weeks in preparation for the big event. For a starter, the guests had a choice of:

Rattlesnake & Plum Vol-Au-Vents

or

Fanta & Marlboro Light Soup

or

Leech & Pineapple On A Stick, Dipped In Moth Eggs

Most people chose to go hungry, except for Lady Gaga who was used to far more sickening fare from the spirit cooking parties she held with her satanist friends. She plopped out a hairy breast at the table and dribbled foul-smelling milk all over her plate, offering it around and seeming offended when everyone but Pennywise turned up their noses. She dipped her leeches in the reeking liquid and gobbled them down hungrily, chanting bizarely deep in her throat as she did so.

Once the starter was out of the way, it was time for the main course. Everyone agreed that Snape had outdone himself, and they all wished fervently that he hadn't. The hand-drawn menu on pressed, eggshell-textured card read:

Sweet-Candied Elephant Spine In A Rich Stilton Sauce

or

Severus' Mixed Meat Enigma! (Containing Fermented Yak Genitals, Minted Aardvark Tongues And Slow-Roasted Puppy Hearts.)

or

Dragonfly & Bilberry Jambalaya

And written in different ink - as if it had been added after the rest - it just said:

Bridal Surprise: You'll Just Have To Wait And See!

For desert there was the choice of:

Octopus Trifle

Spicy Carrot Blancmange

Trout & Espresso Ice Cream: Made With Lady G's Boobie Squirt!

And the drinks list simply read:

Snape's Basil and Wild Sage Cordial: Non-Alcoholic; may induce seizures and severe hallucinations in children, the elderly, the infirm and the perfectly healthy.

The Potion Master's Special Brew: An Artisan Wine Lovingly Fermented From Only The Finest Parsnips

For the 'vegetarian option', Snape had just written The Door, in sassy pink letters.

Several people vomited just looking at the menu, and even the tyrannical reprobate Lady Gaga turned her nose up this time. Eating innocent Haitian orphans was one thing, but Snape's cooking was too evil even for her to countenance. Voldemort - who had been greatly looking forward to the jambalaya - ate half a forkful before turning green and pushing his plate away in disgust. It was full of bluebottles and smelled like Professor Trelawney. Almost all the food went back down to the kitchens untouched, although Filch did sneak some into a doggy bag for use as a handy rodent deterrent. There was no mistaking Snape's cry of artistic frustration when he found out that no one had eaten his painstakingly prepared masterpiece, it drifted up from the kitchens sounding like nothing more than a depressed banshee.

Hermione had been saving herself for Severus' 'Bridal Surprise', for which she was really rather grateful as the other fare looked utterly inedible. Snape brought this out himself, carrying it proudly on a silver platter covered with a large, hemispherical lid. Hermione's eyes nervously scanned the crowd, still looking for her best friend Sebastian, who had phoned her from the airport as soon as he had arrived from the tropical waters of the Caribbean, but failed to contact her since. She was growing increasingly worried about him; he was just a little thing after all - and incredibly vulnerable - despite the hard outer shell he presented to the world.

"My dear," Snape grinned down at her simperingly. "Let me present the piece de resistance, my ultimate creation, my opus-" He whipped the lid away to reveal a steaming red lobster on a bed of gillyweed.

"SEBASTIAN!" Shrieked Hermione, her face contorted with agony. "SEBASTIAN, NO!" She looked at Snape aghast. "What- What have you done?"

Snape froze. "Come again?"

Hermione could not seem to prise her eyes away from the horrifying sight before her. Tears streaked down her face and long ropes of snot began dripping from the scarred slits where her nose used to be.

Snape laughed nervously, looking around the room. "She's overcome with emotion, poor dear. One quick taste of my delicious boiled lobster will have her cheered up in no time-"

As Snape mentioned the word 'lobster', Hermione let out another, even louder shriek. She tore at her face, looking absolutely deranged.

"YOU MURDERED HIM! YOU MURDERED SEBASTIAN!" She screamed, pointing an accusing finger at Snape. "HE WAS MY BEST FRIEND IN ALL THE WORLD, AND YOU MURDERED HIM!"

Snape looked from the steaming crustacean, to Hermione, as recognition began to dawn on his face. "You don't mean-"

"YES!" Hermione shrieked. "YOU- YOU BOILED MY BEST FRIEND ALIVE! YOU DEGENERATE! YOU IDIOT! YOU MONSTER!"

Just at that moment, Dobby the house elf appeared in the hall with a loud 'crack'.

"Dobby is sorry mistress Hermione." He addressed the manic bride. "Dobby tried to tell Professor Snape-" He flashed a dirty look at the potions master as he said his name. "That Sebastian was a magical creature... and a wonderful person- Dobby could tell it instantly, but Professor Snape wouldn't believe Dobby-"

"I don't take orders from a house elf!" Snape spat, dismissively.

Professor McGonagall stood up with a weary sigh. "Severus," she began. "Surely you must have realised that this was a sentient creature you were dealing with? I'm familiar with Sebastian from his work in The Little Mermaid, he was full of vivacity, full of energy, so full of... life." She cast a despairing look to the rapidly cooling lobster on the silver platter. "How could you have missed the signs?"

Snape looked frantically from face to face as everyone glared at him furiously. "It's just-" He stammered. "I just-"

"WHAT?" The crowd all spoke at once.

"I thought it was a practical joke by Tiny-T."

Tyrion lifted his head from his hands and looked at Snape with red-rimmed eyes. "You've just killed the greatest reggae singer who ever lived." His voice was broken, but livid. "His nineteen-ninety-one album, 'Sebastian: Party Gras!' is what got me into music in the first place. You've just murdered my hero, how dare you try to blame this on me!"

Snape wiped the sweat away from his already greasy brow. "Murder- it's such a... strong word." He cringed. "You have to understand-" He went on desperately, addressing Tiny-T; "that when I came across a talking lobster, claiming to be here for 'de wedding', with that ridiculous bloody accent you always to sing in-"

"That's racist!" Seamus jumped up, looking outraged.

"Shut the f-" Everyone else began, then realised that for once, the perpetually offended Irishman was actually bang on the money with this one. It was racist, indeed wildly so.

McGonagall rounded on Snape. "He was from the Caribbean, you blithering idiot!" She castigated the hapless cullinarian. "That's how people talk over there!"

"I met him on a snorkelling holiday in Jamaica-" Hermione's voice was thick with emotion. "We used to speak every single night on the phone. He was my rock-" Her voice broke and she swooned where she stood.

Malfoy caught her, then gave his daughter a comforting rub on the back whilst looking coldly at Snape, shaking his head in disgust. Voldemort was following proceedings with an undisguised delight. At every new revelation, he'd gasp, or hiss like he was part of the crowd in a daytime talkshow. When McGonagall strode towards Snape, Voldemort began pumping his fist in the air and chanting "Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh!"

"Well-" Said McGonagall to Hermione with as much kindness as she could muster in her rage. "At least he didn't suffer. It will have all been over in a heartbeat-"

Dobby coughed.

Snape looked like he wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole. "Er-"

McGonagall shook her head at him almost imperceptibly, but Snape either didn't see, or was too flustered to take the hint.

"It's just, well... The water wasn't quite boiling when I dropped him in."

"Severus..." McGonagall warned, but he paid her no heed.

"I was worried about burning it again- the water, I mean." Snape continued. "So it was scalding, but not quite on the boil. I mean, he shrieked for quite some time. In hindsight, I should have guessed something might be amiss when he begged me to put a knife in his head, just to end the agony."

"How long?" Hermione blubbered. "How long did he suffer like this."

"Oh, no more than twenty-minutes- er, half-an hours tops I can assure you!" Snape answered quickly. He looked genuinely perplexed when this answer seemed to cause the unhappy bride even more pain.

Voldemort took this opportunity to cup his hands around his mouth and exclaim a long, drawn out: "Oooh!"

"Half-an-hour!" She cried. "Half-an-hour of pure agony, begging for death! Oh my sweet Sebastian, my poor, dear Sebastian..." She broke off into another fit of sobbing.

Dobby coughed again, looking accusingly at Snape.

Snape pursed his lips, looked at Dobby then continued. "Well, it was more like six hours really; when you consider the refrigeration after all the lemon and pepper I rubbed in his eyes... oh and the stick of sugarcane I jammed up his bu-"

Another Dobby cough.

Snape sighed. "And, well... I might have snapped off a leg or two to see if he was fresh." Snape admitted. "He kept screaming 'why are you doin' dis to me, mon?'" Snape chuckled at the memory, before a room full of shocked gasps brought him back to the present and he smiled sheepishly. "This is all just a joke isn't it? You're all pulling my leg-"

Hermione wailed even louder at this reminder of her best friend's torture.

"Aren't you?" Continued Snape, chuckling with relief. "Singing lobsters from the Caribbean, indeed!" He laughed. "Ah yes, let's all laugh at Snape; you got me good, I'll admit it-" He broke off a claw, wagged it at the assembled throng as if to chide them for their insouciance, then noisily began sucking out the white meat inside.

The hall descended into uproar, Snape's carefully-prepared banquet began flying in all directions as people threw whatever they could lay their hands on at the hapless cook. The first he realised what was going on was when he was hit in the throat by a candied elephant spine, partly crushing his windpipe and causing him to fall to his knees, gasping for breath.

"I'll handle this." Dumbledore said with authority, striding over to the straining figure of the potions master who was now partly buried in his own octopus trifle.

Deedee pulled his wand out of his sleeve and, reaching Snape, jabbed it in his eye and began bellowing. "You stupid cunt, look what you've done! I'll fucking murder you, you little twat!" He kicked Snape with all his might, then bent over the wheezing figure to pummel him with furious blows.

He was still screaming in a savage rage as he was dragged off by Pennywise, who was shocked to see such brutality; Deedee's peach dress billowed out in front of him, his thin white legs still kicking the air as he was removed forcibly from the scene.

Snape turned red, then blue, then white, as he clutched at his throat, spraying chunks of lobster meat all over the bride in his desperation to draw breath. Zombie Hitler danced around the scene, providing a running commentary of events, whilst tittering to himself as he recorded everything for his Youtube channel. In all the confusion, Lady Gaga took the opportunity to steal some crying babies for use in her satanic rituals, and was never seen at Hogwarts again.

Snape was rushed off to the hospital wing, where Madam Pomfrey gave him a fifty/fifty chance of survival through the night. It all depended if the locks on the doors held, she said; as around a hundred people battered on them in order to finish the job that Deedee had started.

Eventually the tables in the great hall were cleared and the lights dimmed. A stage magically sprang up at the far end, and a massive glitterball appeared overhead. Smoke billowed out into the confined space and dramatic organ music heralded an announcement.

"And now-" A deep voice boomed. "All the way from Middle-Earth, via Hogwarts; the moment you've all been waiting for- It's Deedee and Geedee, reunited at last!"

A funky bass rhythm started up, which after some sixteen bars was joined by some hi-hats. Two figures bopped onto the stage, which was shrouded in darkness and smoke; the only thing visible was their billowing outlines and beautifully braided beards. The figures began to move in mirror image of one another as the hi-hats kept time.

"Un-ss-un-ss-un-ss-un-ss"

The figures joined hands and did the butterfly, stepping around each other in perfect time to the beat.

A watching Cho Chang turned pale. "This is it!" She shouted, in terror. "This is the demonic caterwauling I've been hearing from Dumbledore's tower!"

Jacob grinned broadly. "This isn't demonic caterwauling, it's disco!"

Just then a bass drum started pounding out a four-four beat and a symphony of strings took up an inspirational theme, as a wah-wah guitar dove in and out with a syncopated, funky rhythm. The stage was lit up, revealing Deedee and Geedee in their peach dresses, hair now sparkling with multi-coloured glitter which constantly changed hue in the revolving disco-lights.

Still keeping a perfect mirror image of one another, they began the point move, made famous by John Travolta in the gritty 1977 classic, Saturday Night Fever. Their fingers flew through the hazy air in beautiful, fluid motion, before breaking on the drum-fill to roll their fists in front of their stomachs and jerk out alternate thumbs to each side on every fourth revolution. After this they broke their symmetry, with Geedee taking the lead and spinning Deedee around the stage by his finger until he was just a blur of perfect, whirling enterprise.

The strings died down and the bass line grew exceptionally dirty; Deedee came to a rest, standing in front of Geedee and both men linked fingers and did a double face wave, elbows flapping as their arms undulated like a living oscilloscope demonstrating the frequency of a full-body orgasm. The crowd screamed, partly in terror and partly in a wild, sexual frenzy. All manner of underwear began flying through the air onto the stage, as the stunned spectators started taking off anything they could lay their hands on to salute the magnificent old bastards gyrating in front of them. Geedee effortlessly dodged a prosthetic leg, which sailed by his smiling head and clattered to the stage behind him; he didn't even miss a beat.

After half an hour of the most opulent romping any of the spectators had seen in their hitherto sheltered, miserable lives; the pair embraced on stage, weeping along with the emotional audience. Linking hands, they bowed deeply, beards brushing the floor, as the lights went down.

For the Honeymoon, Voldemort had organised the epic 'Horcrux 2017' odyssey. First up was a jet-skiing adventure in the underground lake by the sea; he had enchanted some inferi to pilot a speedboat and some others to set up a tricky, but manageable obstacle course; the centrepiece of which was a large ramp which afforded a daredevil opportunity to jump over the horcrux incorporating island. As an added excitement, the Dark Lord left his powerful spells of protection in place, so that any mistakes which resulted in a disturbance of the water by human touch would lead to a cold and lonely death at the hands of the inferi.

Survival permitting, the happy couple would briefly return to Hogwarts for an orienteering weekend in the Room of Requirement. The following Monday was to be taken up by a romantic, candlelit dinner in Marvolo's stinking hovel; outside which Voldemort had set up an erotic five-hundred foot zip-line for some extra amusement; then it was back to Hogwarts for a murder-mystery evening in the Chamber of Secrets curated by Snape, in which Voldemort had to murder someone then try to get away with it (his favourite past time). After this they were to take the Knight Bus to Godrick's Hollow for 'board game night', followed by a cheese and wine tasting session at Bathilda Bagshot's and then an epic, 12 hour session of D&D in the Potter House (to which Hermione wasn't invited.)

At the end of all this, Voldemort had organised for Hermione to hunt her first muggle through the dungeons of Gringots Wizarding Bank. The victim - Mr Granger - was said to be nervous, but fancied his chances against his cunning, but physically weak former daughter. Hermione had already put her shoulder out practising the Cruciatus Curse, and was planning to copy her beloved by marking the death of her birth father with the creation of her first horcrux, which she intended to place in a dog-eared, signed copy of Jacob's game-changing re-write of 'Hogwarts: A History.'

Draco Malfoy was to accompany the happy couple on all stages of the trip, partly to make sure there was no funny business, but mostly because Voldemort found Hermione shrill and a bit boring. In the end they spent most of their time together, laughing and joking around whilst Hermione read a book in some dark corner, far more content than you might expect for a bride who has been snubbed for the company of her own father, by none other than her own brother; which is just a rather protracted way of saying that everyone had a perfectly magical time.