Chapter 5:What a Beautiful Wedding
The makeshift pews were filled with guests as the string quartet Enchanted Oasis gently played some classical wizarding pieces. There was a low murmur of chatter as everybody anticipated the bride's arrival.
"It's not too late to back out now, mate," said Charlie to George, who was standing uncharacteristically nervously by the altar. He was so nervous, in fact, that there was no razor-sharp joke hurled in his brother's direction; he just kept staring straight ahead, as though looking hard enough toward the end of the pews would make Astaria appear.
Only a few moments later, the music changed and everybody knew it was time. Silence fell over the crowd of guests as the bridesmaids glided toward the altar; Ginny, ethereal as usual in a pale purple gown, made Harry's throat catch and his stomach flutter. Katie Bell, in pink, was next. Last came Hermione, in a soft blue dress that seemed to shimmer in the cool air; Ron started to sway at the sight of her, and it was all Harry could do to hold him steady.
The vows were over in mere minutes; there was wild whooping as George leaned in to kiss his new wife, who was beaming uncontrollably; and a blur of wands as sparks and confetti and roses and even a few fireworks burst from the crowd in celebration.
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The reception was abuzz as guests mingled and tried desperately to steal a moment with the newlyweds. Despite the merriment, Harry and Ginny were trapped in a corner, trying to console a distressed Ron, who couldn't take his eyes away from Hermione's conversation with a strange and blatantly handsome wizard across the room.
"That – should've – been me," gulped Ron, throwing down another mouthful of champagne.
"Should've been you what?" cried Ginny in exasperation. He'd been saying the same words, over and over again, for the last hour. "If you don't tell me what you mean, I swear on Fred's grave that I'll curse your tongue out…."
"Ginny, don't say that," said Harry. "Just let him deal with it in his own time. It's not like you to say something like that…." He shook his friend sharply. "Look, Ron, we're trying to help! If you don't want to tell us what you mean, then just shut up, okay!"
Ron waved his champagne glass around and almost hurled into the face of a passing guest, who flashed him a dirty look. "Sorry," he mumbled.
It was then that the clanking of champagne glasses began. George's voice boomed out over the crowd, thanks to the Sonorus spell he'd just cast.
"I'd like to make a toast now," he said, "to my gorgeous new wife, whose sanity, for choosing me, I still have to question." There was a low rumble of laughter. "Thanks to everybody who have come here, whether you're close by or from far away. Today very nearly didn't happen thanks to a crazy morning where the Chaos Theory decided to apply itself to our house.
I met Astaria after the end of the war. She came to me to write an article about Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. She was convinced we were creating a hazard to wizardry and was determined to let everybody else know it." He looked down at his wife, who was still beaming. "Luckily, my irresistible charm won her over and she decided to withdraw her article and instead go out with me.
She's gorgeous, she's funny, smart and most importantly, crazy about me. If my twin brother Fred were alive, he'd tell me that I'd somehow managed to put a spell over her, because no girl in her right mind would pick an idiot like me. Well, it must have been one hell of a spell, because here we are, in love and married, and I'll tell you all now I'm the luckiest wizard in the world."
There was a roar of applause that almost made the garden shake.
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Ginny had seen Hermione slip inside The Burrow halfway through George's speech, and she followed, excusing herself from Harry and Ron, who were still engaged in a never-ending exchange of "that-should've-been-me's" and "what-do-you-means?"
Hermione was sitting cross-legged in front of her bed, flipping through a photo album. There was Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny, beaming into a photograph taken for the Daily Prophet, which had made the front cover as a tribute to the victory against Voldemort. There was Ginny, perched on Harry's lap, her forehead connected to his and her arms wrapped around his upper torso. There was Ron, with Hermione scooped into his arms. Her head was resting on his shoulder and he was grinning as he twirled her around and around in circles. And then there was a still photo, of Hermione standing with her parents against the hedgerow in their front garden, just minutes before she performed the spell that would erase all memories of their past lives in Britain, including the existence of their only daughter.
"Their memories can't be brought back, you know," said Hermione to Ginny as she flopped down beside her on the floor. "I've tried and tried and tried. I don't know why it's not working." A tear slipped down her cheek. "I've been back there every month for the last two and a half years, and nothing. Not a single memory is coming back."
Ginny put her arm around her shoulder. "Haven't you tried talking to the Ministry? Surely there's someone in Magical Reversal –"
"I've tried," said Hermione. "I wrote letters to all the departments at the Ministry. Your Dad spoke to everyone personally, but nobody has ever heard of this happening before. Thing is, reversing a memory erasure on Muggles hasn't ever really been tried before. Or if it has, it hasn't really been documented."
"Oh, Hermione," said Ginny, as she began to cry. "I wish I could help you. We all do. If there's anything we can do…"
Hermione shook her head. "I just have to keep going over there. Try to convince them that I'm their daughter."
Ginny leaned back against the bed and pointed to the photo of Hermione and Ron together. "When was that taken?"
"We were supposed to go to Paris together," said Hermione. "About six months after we graduated from Hogwarts. He surprised me and told me we were going to go. I was so excited. Everything was planned, everything was set. But then…we had a row the night before we were meant to leave. Something completely ridiculous and Ron-like. He stormed out and I stormed out, and it just didn't happen."
"So, when was that taken?"
"Oh. It was taken just after he'd told me we were going to Paris. Harry took the picture."
"Is that why you two ended?"
"No," said Hermione. "That was nothing, really. We made up a few days later, but it was too late to go and we just didn't have the same energy for the trip anymore."
"Oh," said Ginny. "So, why did you two end?"
Hermione sighed. "Hasn't your brother told you any of this?"
"No," said Ginny. "He hasn't. He's been spending the last hour telling us that this 'should've been him.' I was about ready to kill him, honestly. I need to know, Hermione. I'm not a nosy person, but you're my best friend and he's my brother."
"He's not to know I told you," said Hermione. "You can tell Harry, but nobody else."
"I promise."
Hermione clambered up on to her bed and lay down flat, staring up at the ceiling. "Well…"
And, for the first time in months, she began to talk.