Speak Now or Forever Hold Your Peace

"Ginny, what is on your hand?!" Hermione exclaims during Sunday dinner at The Burrow. You and I have returned from our fabulous trip to America, and immediately my mother had invited us to dinner the Sunday after our arrival so we could discuss our vacation in detail.

I use the hand that my engagement ring is on to tuck hair behind my left ear. "Oh, er, you mean my engagement ring?" I ask her with a big grin.

There is a sudden silence at the table. Everyone's eyes swivel to stare at you and me. "Your what, dear?" Mum asks slowly, hope lighting her eyes.

I hold my hand up and shake my hand like Beyoncé does in her music video of the 'Single Ladies'. "I'm not a single lady anymore," I grin.

"Whoa, you mean Harry grew a pair this summer and finally popped the question?" says Ron, ever-so-tactfully.

You glare at your best mate. "Thanks for the encouragement and confidence you have in me, mate," you mutter sarcastically.

"No problem," Ron says, obliviously.

"Weel, do not 'ide eet," Fleur pronounces in her heavily-accented English. "'old eet up so we can see!"

I set my fork down slowly and dab at my mouth daintily with my napkin to draw out the wait. Once Mum starts shooting me impatient looks, I hurry my ass up. Everyone ooh's and aah's over it, exclaiming at the beauty of the ring you gave me.

"Is that . . . a Quaffle in the centre?" Angelina Johnson-Weasley, George's wife, asks in awe. "How the bloody hell did you manage that, Harry?"

You smile sheepishly. "It's actually a ruby in the shape of a Quaffle," you explain. "And it is Goblin and custom-made so I actually have no idea how it was made. Sorry."

"Still," Bill wolf-whistles. "That is a big ass ring you're wearing, Gin."

"I'm loving the whole Gryffindor pride you've got on," Hermione plaudits. "Nice, Harry. A gold ring with a ruby Quaffle in the centre. Is that engraving etched on the Quaffle's surface?"

I nod. "Yup. It says 'You are the Chaser who is the Keeper of my heart' ."

"Oh, how romantic," Mum coos. "Harry, darling, you are so sweet and thoughtful, you dear boy. Welcome to the family – not that you weren't part of it before."

You blush next to me. "Thank you so much Mrs Weasley. I just wish Ginny could meet my own parents and share their congratulations."

Mum looks at you fondly. "Oh, dearie, we all wish that the Potters were still alive. But I'll try my hardest to be some sort of Mum to you; just help me out and start calling me 'Mum'. No more of this 'Mrs Weasley' stuff, alright?"

You nod your head happily and smile gratefully at my mother. "Yes, Mum," you say obediently and reach over to clasp my hands. "Love you," you mouth indiscreetly at me.

I squeeze our hands. "Love you," I mouth back as everyone chuckles over how adorable we are together.

And that is exactly how we announced are engagement to my family.

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"Are you going to have your wedding here at The Burrow like Fleur did?" Mum asks me expectantly the next morning. She flips the bacon on the stove and has a hand on her hip, creating an image that is completely matronly.

I shake my head. "I don't think so." The waffle press dings and I take out the plain golden waffles and spoon in a ladleful of batter that is freckled with mini chocolate chips.

"Why not? We could re-use the tents and the stage and that minister. Not to mention all of the decorations and –"

Resolutely, I say: "I'm not Fleur, Mum. I don't want my wedding to be a carbon copy of hers."

"Well, of course not," Mum blinks as the bacon pops and sizzles in the frying pan.

"And Mum, I'm only seventeen –"

"Eighteen in three weeks," she interjects.

"Yes, yes, whatever. Point is, I don't want to get married fresh out of Hogwarts –"

"Is there something wrong with that?" Mum asks, arching her eyebrows at me.

Immediately, I backtrack. "No, there is nothing wrong with marrying straight out of school. I know that's what you and Dad did. But times have changed, Mum, and I do not want to be traditional like you and Dad were. I love Harry, I really do, but I want to make a name for myself in my job profession before I commit to being tied down to him and babies and our household family."

Mum slides the bacon onto a plate and sighs. "Ginny, I know you think you know best, dear, but you cannot support yourself on a silly Quidditch salary –"

"Mum," I say, not wanting to hear another word of the foolish argument she is trying to present. "I am seventeen. I'm legal to do whatever I want in the Wizarding world. Please, just let me make my own decisions and my own mistakes."

"Darling," she tells me as she puts the plate down on the table. I slide the plate stacked full of waffles that I have been making beside her plate of bacon. "I just want the best for my baby girl."

I smile ruefully. "But I am not a baby anymore, Mum. You've got to let me out from under your wing."

Mum stares at me, searching for something in my eyes. She must have found whatever she is looking for because after a few moments, she dips her head and turns away. "Very well." She lifts the corner of her apron and dabs at her eyes. "Call everyone down for breakfast, Ginny," she tells me with her back turned towards me.

Guilt and remorse floods over me for making my mother cry, but I force myself to stand strong and support my side of our argument because deep inside my heart, I know we both know that I am right. "Alright," I say and leave the kitchen. I go to the stairs and yell: "Wake up you Blast-Ended Skrewts! Breakfast is on the table!"

Soon, the thundering of feet pounds down the stairs. When I and everybody else in the family enter the kitchen, Mum's face is wiped dry. It looks like our row never happened but I know it did because Mum catches my eye as she pours the syrup and nods infinitesimally. It's not a grand gesture and does not mean that she supports me a hundred percent, but I know it means that she respects my decision and that is all that matters the most to me right now.

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Over tea right before my first Quidditch season starts as the Holyhead Harpies' right-wing Chaser, Hermione, Luna, and I, plus Brenna Burt (she's the left-wing Chaser I had met during auditions and we immediately became besties) go to The Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade to discuss wedding details. Well, I thought we were just having a friendly get together. The other three were setting me up so we could talk about the wedding.

"So . . . have you set a date yet?" Hermione asks nonchalantly with an eager look in her eyes as she carefully stirs in a teaspoon of sugar into her tea. We're sitting at the back in a secluded spot, so I'm not worried about anyone overhearing.

I give Hermione a look. "I just turned eighteen two days ago," I say. "I'm not getting married while I am still a teenager." My tone is final; hopefully everyone will stop getting on my ass about getting married any day now.

"Then why the bloody hell would you accept Harry's proposal?" Brenna asks bluntly, flipping her extremely curly glossy chestnut hair over her shoulder. When I first met her, I knew we would be besties based on her blunt honesty and habit of cursing at least once in every sentence. "The poor bloke is prolly expecting you to be planning your white wedding. And so is the damn media – you know that since ya'll two are these famous hotshots, your wedding is going to be publicised."

"Yeah," I sigh, not liking that idea. "I know. But Bee, Harry couldn't possibly expect me to settle down and all that romantic shit once we got married. I mean, he knows me. He knows that I want to make a name for myself out on the Quidditch Pitch and that I cannot possibly do that if I have to worry about children or when to pick them up from day care or if little Lily has a cold or that James is getting into all sorts of mischief –"

"Children aren't that bad," Luna says serenely, one hand on her barely bumping two-months-pregnant belly. She and Lorcan Salamander-or-whatever-his-last-name-is are a proud, glowing couple these days as they expect their firstborn in a couple of months.

Hermione, on the other hand, focuses on another part of my words. "You and Harry have already picked out the names of your children?!" she exclaims, one hand over her mouth to stop her growing smile from, well, growing even more.

"And after his parents," Brenna nods her head in approval. "That's really sweet of you two."

I blush. I hadn't meant to let that slip out. "Oh, er, well, yeah." I take a sip of my tea to shield myself from their beaming faces.

"So, if you haven't got a date yet, do you at least know where you want your wedding?" Hermione persists on the dreaded wedding topic. I know she is hurting because she and my brother broke up a few weeks ago, but I wish she would relent a little about this whole wedding ordeal.

"A beach," I respond immediately, thinking of Malibu.

"A beach," Brenna repeats. "I'm guessing you mean a tropical, international one and not one on the coast of Britain?"

"Gin . . .," Hermione says, her voice trailing off.

Luna shakes her head. "That's a nice dream but not very practical, is it?"

Great. If Luna tells me something isn't practical, I really know it is not. "Yeah, that's my dream location. I know it would be a pain in the ass with getting everyone to a gorgeous, sunny beach, but think of the sound of the ocean being right there or not having to wear heels – everyone could go barefoot or wear some cute, strappy sandals – and I would put starfish decals in my hair or, like, little pearls, and sea glass and plumeria flowers would line the sandy walkways to a pretty, white arch that is covered with de-thorned bougainvillea because it drapes nicely over trellises and –"

"Oh dear, Merlin," I hear Brenna stage-whisper to Hermione and Luna. "She finally learns to start planning her wedding but it's the one wedding we told her she prolly could not have."

"Well, then, an autumn wedding," I say, imagining golds and yellows and reds and maybe a few splashes of green colouring my white wedding.

"You know, autumn's not too far away. You could still get married this year," Hermione pipes in. I scowl at her and she bursts out laughing. "Just teasing, Gin," she giggles.

"Not funny," I roll my eyes at her.

"I like the autumn idea," Luna says dreamily. "And you could always do it at that cute little church in Godric's Hollow if you want to stay close to Harry's roots. Maybe even incorporate his parents' into it."

"Yeah," I say, my mind a million kilometres away as I think on that idea. "October thirty-first."

Brenna puts her hand on my arm gently. I snap back to the present and raise an eyebrow questioningly at her. "Are you sure that day won't be too emotional for Harry?" she asks in concern. "I mean, it's the anniversary of his parents' death. He might not be . . . alright with having your wedding on that day too."

"I'm alright with it," I hear your voice say unexpectedly.

"What the bloody hell?!" I scream and nearly jump out my seat.

Everyone at the table starts laughing at me and my reaction. You suddenly appear in the chair besides Hermione that I thought she was occupying with her purse. "Hey, love. Sorry, didn't mean to scare you. Hermione suggested I tag along with her and hear what your plans of the wedding were since you are so tight-lipped about it. I just wanted to know what your thoughts were."

I frown. "You could've asked me –"

"I have," you say gently. "But you never answer."

I look away and take a sip of my now-lukewarm tea just so I have something to do with my hands.

Hermione, thankfully, takes the attention off of me. "So, good, we're making progress. Harry, feel free to add in any of your own thoughts since, you know, this is your wedding too. Gin, you've said you wanted a wedding in autumn, preferably October thirty-first –"

"Actually, how about we say our vows at midnight between October thirty-first and November first?" I ask you. "Just, er, because once we have kids we'll want to trick-or-treat and I kind of want to celebrate our wedding anniversary not on a day where everybody's high on sugar and –"

"Sounds good," you agree. "But what about the lighting? I thought you would want an autumn wedding because of the sun and all of the changing colours."

"Yeah," I say, thinking on that. "That would be pretty. However, I want to share our wedding with your parents but not on Halloween."

"You could use candles," Luna says about our lighting. "Those lend a pretty, soft glow."

"Not to mention add to the spookiness of the holiday and the romance of your wedding," Brenna says. "Depending on which type of candle you use."

Hermione looks at you and me, slowly, hesitantly. "Would you two mind saying your vows and having the wedding ceremony at Hogwarts? I know you two have a special connection with the castle and it does go with the Halloween theme since Hogwarts always go overboard with decorations. And then you could go over to Godric's Hallow for the reception."

I shiver at that last thought. "As much as I love your parents, Harry, I'm not comfortable with the idea of having our reception in a graveyard at night when it is Halloween."

You nod. "Yeah, I know what you mean. Hmm. How about we go to Godric's Hallow before we do the wedding ceremony at Hogwarts? And then the reception can be at The Burrow."

Everyone nods their head in agreement at that plan. "It's a start," I say and sit back and think on our future together and the day that will mark the rest of forever with you. On a Wednesday in a café, I watch my wedding get planned as my friends and you brainstorm and finalise decisions.

October 31st, so many years from now, I'll be known as Mrs Potter.

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Memories float down like the autumn leaves surrounding us. We, just the two of us, are standing in front of your parent's graves. The morning sunlight dapples the ground all around us, and once again, I am struck by the image of how angelic and pure you look. A golden halo of sunlight hovers slightly above your head, adding to the image.

The world is bathed in lush tones of rich honey gold, fiery crimson, flaming tongues of orange, buttercup yellows that darken into starbursts of light, and the occasional splattering of a warm chocolate brown or fresh lively green. Down in the village of Godric's Hallow, a few paces away from the cemetery that we are standing in, cottages are decorated with pumpkins and candles and festivities that are celebrating Halloween and the arrival of autumn. The air is cold, but with your hand in mine, I feel as warm as ever.

Today, actually, is Halloween. And I am getting married to you tonight when the full moon shines bright through the halls of Hogwarts. I'm twenty-one now and you're twenty-two. The Holyhead Harpies and I have managed to bring home the Quidditch World Cup on two separate occasions as well as be named in the Quidditch Hall of Fame. You're Head Auror in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and have been nominated for the Order of Merlin First Class, Wizard of the Year, a candidate in the Top Ten Most Influential Wizard and Witches, a candidate in Top Five Most Expensive Witches and Wizards (I think you are thought to be worth 30 million Galleons?), and the prestigious Albus Dumbledore Award (I have no idea what constitutes a person eligible for this one).

Results come in by owl mail this week. However, I think being named a Potter is the best title of all.

Author's Note: Be a hero and review to let me know if you actually wanted to read about their wedding. I wasn't sure if it would be boring or too repetitive, but I do have a rough outline of it typed up, so yeah, review if you want it posted or PM'd to you or whatnot.

Cheers!