Ravenclaw
11 JUNE 2002—Needless to say, Belle's wedding was a mess.
Harry was racked with a deep grief over losing two of his mentors, and he did everything he could to avoid that pain. It was a rare day when he didn't wake up hungover, and his wedding day was no exception. The best man, Ron, had to support him down the aisle. Belle did her best to ignore his bleary eyes, focusing on what had gone right: She had finally found a wedding dress, all the guests had arrived safely; the groom was still standing upright…
They survived the ceremony. Now she just had to endure the reception.
Harry found liquor quickly. He had his first drink before they were seated at the Newlywed Table, and he nursed a tumbler during Belle's father's speech. Harry's own speech was slurred and nigh on incomprehensible; by comparison, Ron seemed like a stellar orator when he gave his Best Man speech. Then the Weasley twins got up to dedicate a song to the bride and groom, signaling to the pianist. Belle braced herself as the opening notes to Journey's "Don't Stop Believing" reached her ears.
"Just a small-town girl," George began, in a surprisingly decent voice. "Living in a lonely world…" He seemed to look directly into Belle's eyes as he sung. Her heart fluttered traitorously while Harry sat obliviously next to her. He had to be dragged to the dance floor for their First Dance as bride and groom, which was composed of limp swaying. The instant it was over, Harry was chasing another drink.
Belle entered a rotation of dance partners, but she wasn't so caught up in the whirl of music that she couldn't keep an eye on the groom—he seemed to be drunkenly chatting up an old female classmate…
"Can I have this dance?" George asked suddenly, extending his hand. Belle nodded dumbly, and he pulled her out onto the dance floor as a new song began. A delightful shiver went up her spine when they touched, a shiver that she, as a married woman, shouldn't be feeling toward any man other than her husband. But it was her wedding, and she deserved to have a good time, right?
One song bled into the next as George artfully led Belle through a plethora of dances. One moment they were energetically cutting a rug, and the next they were tucked close together, slowly revolving in place to a love ballad. Belle never had more than a moment to notice Harry flirting with some girl; George was too distracting. When her guilt finally overwhelmed her, she pleaded thirsty and fled from his warm, welcoming arms.
She accepted a strange-smelling martini from Neville Longbottom—wow, he had grown up from his Hogwarts days, losing his shyness and gaining height. Handing her empty glass back to him, she was suddenly hit by how attractive he was. He had seemed to have been working out, as shown in his lost baby fat and newly chiseled jaw. Seemingly unable to control herself, she ran her hand down his shirtsleeve, feeling the firm muscle underneath. She giggled flirtatiously, and he offered an awkward smile. Feeling horribly unlike her usually reserved self, she let her heart lead, and her heart said to push this as far as she could.
Downing another shot, she refocused on Neville. She wasn't about to let him get away.
When she woke up the next morning, she was struck with a pounding headache… and the realization that someone had slipped her Amortentia.
Rat droppings.