# Why Me?

orchid

Rating: PG13
Genres: Romance, Humor
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 4
Published: 06/09/2003
Last Updated: 14/07/2004
Status: In Progress

It's the wizarding wedding of the century. But when Harry is called away to work, can Hermione cope with planning it alone? When everything seems to be going wrong!

## 1. Chapter 1.

Harry and Hermione are going to wed, but will they prevail over the numerous nightmares that ensue in the planning?

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Author Note: This is my first fic on Portkey and I’m pretty nervous – please leave any suggestions or comments you have. Thanks!

Why me?

Chapter 1.

Ring. Ring. The loud jangling of the telephone penetrated into the couples’ sleep. Hermione Granger wriggled under the duvet in an attempt to avoid the irritating noise and prodded her companion in the ribs, he mumbled grouchily.

“Harry...” she whined. More muffled grumbling, then his hand swung out from the bed and picked up the receiver.

“Hello?” He groaned into the phone.

“Eeeeeeeeee!” A high pitched shriek greeted him, and he promptly dropped the phone. Massaging his ringing ear, he gingerly picked up the phone and threw it at the lump under the covers next to him. “It’s for you,” he yawned falling back onto the mattress. Hermione’s head popped out from under the covers, her curly hair unruly and tousled. She scowled at Harry then lifted the phone to her ear.

“- eeeeeep!” The shriek obviously hadn’t ended. Hermione rolled her eyes,

“Ginny? GINNY! Alright Gin – get a grip,” she shouted. Harry snorted with laughter into his pillow.

“Yes, yes it’s true.” Hermione was saying into the mouthpiece in an exasperated voice, “Well he only asked me last night Ginny – when was I meant to? .... Alright, alright. Yes. Yes, okay... I’ll see you then. Bye,”

She plopped the phone back into its cradle and groaned.

“That was Ginny.” She announced unnecessarily. Harry chuckled and sat up, the sheets pooling around his bare midriff.

“She heard then?” He asked, Hermione nodded,

“Ron.”

“Prat.” Harry supplied idly causing Hermione to laugh. Then she leant over and pushed a few strands of jet black hair out of Harry’s eyes. Harry caught her hand and ran his thumb over the new band circling her fourth finger. The ring was white gold, a single sparkling diamond set into it and engraved around the inside, one of her favourite phrases; In dreams, with you I walk. A smile spread across her face and she kissed him sweetly on the lips.

“It’s beautiful,” she said quietly.

“You’re beautiful,” he replied making her smile. They lay in silence for a few more peaceful minutes until the jangling phone made them both jump.

“Remind me to take that off the hook on our honeymoon,” Harry joked plucking the handset up and grimacing.

“Hello? Oh, Roger...” Harry threw Hermione a look and she kissed his cheek lightly and hopped out of bed.

Roger Jinks, Harry’s second boss. He had had two jobs ever since he left Hogwarts those six years ago. Ultimately his Auror work came first, but with the defeat of Voldemort, work was light and allowed for him to be employed part-time. So he had taken on the invitation to play for the Chudley Cannons Quidditch team and the England team in addition. It had its props; being one of his life loves, working with Ron Weasley, his best friend, and travel to exotic locations for matches were among them. Unfortunately add International Quidditch Star to Harry’s already blooming list of claims to fame – The-Boy-Who-Lived gig, his work with the Order to defeat Voldemort, and his respect as an accomplished Auror within the Ministry of the Magic meant that he had been propelled into celebrity status, dragging long term girlfriend and more recently fiancé, Hermione Granger with him.

“So we’ll need you at Leicester this afternoon... Oh and Harry: congratulations to you and Hermione.” Harry opened his mouth to reply but heard the buzz of the dead line and sighing set down the phone. He had six important matches coming in the run up to the wedding in a month, these were interspersed with rigorous training sessions and press calls. At that moment Hermione re-entered the bedroom, wrapped in a fluffy white robe, her hair wet from the shower, she was carrying a laden breakfast tray. She set in onto the bed and snuggled up next to Harry.

“So, what did Roger want?” She asked, selecting a piece of buttered toast and beginning to munch through it. Harry made a face,

“He wants me to go up to Leicester to prep for the matches,” he sighed, taking a gulp of coffee. Hermione’s face fell slightly.

“Oh, so when will you be back?” she asked, Harry frowned.

“Not until the 29th, I’ve got to stay in the apartment.” He said ruefully,

“What? But we get married the next day? What’s Roger playing at?” Hermione exclaimed, Harry shrugged unhappily.

“I know, I’m sorry ‘Mione.” He said leaning across to kiss her. She shook her head,

“It’s not your fault,” she said sadly, “I’m just going to miss you, plus I’ve got the whole wedding to plan – without you!” she added sounding slightly hysterical.

“I’m sure you’ll do an amazing job.” He reassured her, “Casey gave you the month off right?” He added referring to Hermione’s boss. She nodded.

“Yes. When do you leave?” she asked, Harry pulled another face,

“This afternoon,” Hermione scowled, and then pouted playfully at him.

“Well, we better make the most of our time together then,” she said, moving the tray onto the floor. Harry raised his eyebrows.

“I agree... any ideas on how to utilise it?”

“Oh a few,” she replied grinning and shedding her robe she pulled him back under the duvet.

- - - - - - -

“Do you have to go?” Hermione asked, smoothing the front of Harry’s shirt as they stood in their kitchen in the copious house they shared in the outskirts of London.

“Mmm,” Harry murmured sighing heavily, he glanced at his watch, “And now, or I’ll be even later than I already am,” he added. Hermione widened her eyes innocently,

“I hardly think I was wholly to blame for that,” she said lightly,

“No, I suppose I played my part.” Harry grinned, he cupped her face in his hand. “I’ll miss you,”

“I’ll miss you,” Hermione repeated, and leant in to kiss him. A moment into the kiss a loud crack followed by a squeal made them break apart.

“CONGRATULATIONS!” Yelled a petite young woman with a long mane of shining red hair, she crossed the kitchen and captured Harry and Hermione in a bone crunching hug.

“Thanks Gin,” Hermione said, smirking at the stricken look on Harry’s face. Ginny beamed at them, then eyed Harry’s suit and briefcase.

“Where are you off to?” She asked,

“Leicester. Roger wants me to stay in the apartment, prep for the matches... you know...” Harry said dully, Ginny nodded in comprehension.

“Oh – yeah. Ron left this morning.” She said. Hermione shot Harry a sly look and he masked a grin.

“I better go then before it gets any later – Gin look after my wife-to-be won’t you?” He asked. Ginny nodded,

“Of course, they don’t call me Maid of Honour for nothing you know!” she said puffing herself out proudly, Hermione rolled her eyes at her, then turned to Harry.

“Have fun,”

“I won’t,”

“Be good,”

“Always,”

Hermione snickered and brushed her lips to his.

“Bye, and say hello to Ron for me and err – thank – him for letting certain people know the news so soon.” She said sardonically, Harry chuckled.

“Will do. Love you.”

“Love you.”

With a loud crack, he and his suitcase disappeared. Hermione stared at the empty space and felt a slight wave of panic, barely a month and a wedding to plan – her wedding – all alone. Ginny seemed to read her mind because she threw an arm around Hermione’s shoulders and led her to the sofa.

“Well – have we got a wedding to plan!” She exclaimed grinning. Hermione pretended to faint.

“Gin – where do we start?” She sighed hopelessly, her head on Ginny’s lap.

“Venue.” Ginny replied promptly. Hermione sat up and eyed her with some respect. One of Ginny’s best assets was her fantastic organization teemed with unflinching determination and un-bashfulness meant that tasks she undertook were nearly always successful.

“Uh – I don’t know. My mum and dad got married abroad, but I don’t think it’s mine and Harry’s thing...” she shrugged, Ginny smiled.

“Well, I have the perfect place. It’s big, grand, set in stunning sprawling English countryside grounds, enough room for everything – ceremony, reception, catering.” Hermione raised an eyebrow.

“Sounds perfect...” she said suspiciously. “Where?”

“Malfoy Manor,” Ginny said glancing at her nails.

“What?” Hermione snapped.

“Oh come on, it would be perfect you said yourself. I asked Draco and he’d love to –,”

“You asked him already!” Hermione exclaimed furiously. Ginny nodded.

“Yes. I don’t see the problem. It’s the ultimate solution, everything can be done in the one place,” Hermione opened her mouth to argue but Ginny overrode her, “There aren’t any issues with Draco any more – him and Harry are practically friends. Anyway it’s practically my house now.” At this Hermione had to grin at Ginny’s confidence. She considered for a moment. Malfoy Manor, a beautiful colonial mansion in Wiltshire. She could already picture a gorgeous outside ceremony and reception under a marquee, moonlight dances –

“Alright.” She said. A wide smile almost spilt Ginny’s face.

“You won’t regret this ‘Mione, trust me. It’ll be beautiful. And speaking of, I won’t let Draco cause any trouble.” Ginny said solemnly, Hermione chuckled and nodded.

“Next?” she queried.

“Invites.” Ginny replied, she scooted across the room and drew out a sheet of paper from a kitchen drawer. “Got a quill?” she called over her shoulder to Hermione.

“Nah – biro.” Hermione said plucking a pen out of a pot on the table next to her. “Here,” she said handing it to Ginny, who wrinkled her nose at it, then tested it gingerly.

“Alright,” Ginny said, scribbling a heading then underlining it with a flourish. “Let’s do family first.” Hermione nodded.

“Well, for Harry, that’s the Dursley’s I guess.” She said with a lopsided smile, Ginny sniggered.

“Great haven’t seen that pig boy in a while,” she said noting their names down.

“And Hagrid – he’s like family to us both.” Hermione said, Ginny nodded, adding his name.

“Okay – and your side?”

“My parents obviously, and I guess I’d better invite my Uncle Johnny.” A pained expression flitted across Hermione’s face, “He’s Scottish and practically an alcoholic,” she exclaimed, grinning.

“Can’t wait to meet him!” Ginny said brightly, and Hermione shook her head,

“Anyway he’ll bring his wife and two children. Oh, my cousin Cassandra will want to come – she’s American.” Ginny scribbled on the notepad.

“Okay – anyone else?” she asked,

“Um... Auntie and Uncle Brown, all my cousins, my Gran... and I’m sure my mum will remind me if I forgot anyone else,” Hermione said. Ginny’s eyes twinkled.

“Alright, friends!”

- - - - - - - -

“Ohh this was such a sweet idea ‘Mione,” Ginny cooed, softly stroking one of the near hundred doves that were perched all over the living room. In a spark of genius they had decided to send the invites with white doves instead of owls. Hermione finished tying the last piece of parchment to a dove’s ankle with a piece of gold thread. She surveyed the covering of white birds.

“Looks like winter came early,” she giggled. “Okay – shall we let them go?” Ginny nodded and edged to the window careful not to tread on any feathered tails. She threw it open and the doves flew through it one by one.

Hermione and Ginny leant on the window sill and watched the cloud of birds soar out of sight. Then they flopped back onto the sofa. Hermione yawned and glanced at her watch.

“I’m so tired, do you mind if we call it a day?” she asked.

“Yeah, that’s okay.” Ginny said, patting her arm, “Tomorrow – dresses. I’ll call Luna and Lavender and book us all an appointment at Feathers.”

“Feathers?” Hermione repeated vaguely.

“Yes, Feathers – the wedding boutique we saw in London ages ago that you loved... remember?” Ginny prompted.

“Oh, yeah! Gorgeous window display.” Hermione said nodding. Ginny stood up and grabbed her coat.

“Alright, get a good nights sleep, and apparate over to Diagon Alley for eleven?” she said, planting a kiss on Hermione’s cheek.

“Okay. See you then, and thanks Gin.” Hermione added gratefully. Ginny waved her hands modestly and with a crack, disappeared.

## 2. Chapter 2.

Why me?

Chapter 2.

Hermione yawned widely without opening her eyes, she stretched out fully on her bed, pointing her toes and pushing her arms up above her head. She rolled onto her side and threw out an arm to touch – nothing. Her hand hit the mattress; she blearily squinted at the empty space next to her, and then remembered.

“Muhhhhh,” she groaned, lying flat back on the bed, in the buttery yellow sunlit room. From out in the hall she heard the clock chime, once... she waited patiently for the next peal, but after three minutes it still hadn’t come.

“Shit!” she sprang out of bed and grabbed at her bedside clock.

13:00

The number flashed up red, at her on the LCD screen. Hermione whacked her head with her palm, “Shit,” she swore again, running into the kitchen in her pyjamas. Her answer-phone was blinking red at her. Making a mental note to dispose of everything electrical that flashed irritating red lights at her, she poked feverishly at the button.

‘Hermione,’ Ginny’s exasperated voice came from the speaker, ‘Where are you? It’s half twelve! We were meeting at eleven. When you get this owl me and let me know what’s going on...’ Hermione jabbed at the button, deleting the message and ran over to the counter on which a large cage was sat. Inside, was Hegwig, Harry’s elderly owl and her offspring, Henry. Hermione opened the door and coaxed Henry out,

Gin –

I overslept, sorry. I’ll be there in ten minutes, meet me at Madam Puddifoots’ – I’ll be in need of caffeine

– Hermione x

She rolled up the hastily scribbled note and tied it to Henry’s outstretched leg. She crossed the room again and threw open a window, she tossed the small snowy owl out into the bright sunshine and watched as it soared away. She showered quickly and pulled on jeans and an old shrunken Gryffindor Quidditch Team tee-shirt. She roughly towel dried her hair and grabbed her wand off the side board, not paying much attention she directed it at her head and muttered a drying charm. Then with a loud crack, she apparated.

Diagon Alley was ridiculously busy. Hermione has never seen it so, except at Christmas. The street was seething with people, jostling each other, to get into various shops; some braver souls were fighting the general stream and battling their way up in the opposite direction to the flow, many receiving elbows in their faces, and other injuries for their trouble. Hermione let herself be swept along, until she spotted the side street she was after, she practically dove through the crowd and managed to squeeze out the other side. She jogged up the road, and pulled open the door to the quaint tearoom.

She spotted Ginny, accompanied by Lavender and Luna sat around a small, round table covered in doilies and a frilly tablecloth, and headed over to them. She dropped into a seat and sighed,

“Sorry – overslept.”

Ginny waved her hand at Madam Puddifoot, who bustled over and set a cup of steaming coffee in front of Hermione. “Thanks,” she said gratefully, sipping the hot liquid. She noticed the silence, and looked up. All three pairs of eyes were fixed on her, twinkling amusedly.

“What?” she asked suspiciously. Ginny smirked, and cleared her throat.

“Ehm... you’re hair...” she said delicately. Hermione frowned,

“My hair?” she repeated, taking the small compact Lavender was offering her over the tablecloth. She snapped it open and glanced into it.

“AHH!” she yelped. She couldn’t even see all of her hair in the tiny mirror, but what she could see very much represented a peak-of-Jackson Five-career afro. She stared aghast at her reflection for a few minutes, and then patted her head gingerly; her fingers came into contact with a virtual bird’s nest of frizz.

Lavender and Ginny had dissolved into hysterics, while Luna blinked serenely at her. Hermione pushed back her chair to head to the bathroom, her movement however upset her mug which toppled and split hot brown liquid down her front.

“OWW!” She yelled, daubing at her wet tee-shirt frantically.

FLASH.

A blinding burst of blue-white light flashed, leaving stars twinkling behind Hermione’s eyelids, rendering her temporarily sightless, the light was accompanied by a billow of pearly smoke and a flurry of words,

“Miss Granger – is there any truth in the rumours you and Harry Potter are to marry at the end of this month?”

“Will you be selling the photos to The Snitch for a substantial amount of royalties?”

“Will Mr Ron Weasley – Quidditch extraordinaire – be best man?”

“Where will the ceremony be held?”

“How do you feel about the statistic that one in ten wizarding marriages fail?”

“Are you and Mr Potter planning a family?”

As the smoke cleared and Hermione’s sight returned, a gaggle of frenetic reporters came into view, camera’s flashing and clicking, recorders extended and taping. Hermione goggled for a second then ran, full pelt, for the ladies toilet. She slammed the door and locked it.

She looked in the mirror and groaned, her hair was a fright wig of epic proportions, her scruffy tee-shirt had a large, soggy brown stain on it. She looked a mess. Feeling a tremble of emotions where she didn’t know whether to cry, scream or laugh. Behind the door, she could hear a considerable scuffle occurring. The reporter’s shouts, mingled with Luna’s shrieks and Ginny’s loud and utterly x-rated threats and insults. Hermione took a deep breath and pulled out her wand, she prodded her hair and mumbled a taming spell, watching it fall back into glossy chestnut curls. She quickly shed her clothes and transfigured them into a more appropriate outfit. Feeling more composed, though still a little dazed; she turned back to the door. The kafuffle seemed to have died, as it was quiet, there was a sharp knock followed by Lavender’s voice.

“’Mione? They’ve gone. Gin nearly got arrested, but she got rid of them... you ready to go?”

Hermione pulled open the door and Lavender examined her, looking impressed. She’d transfigured the scrappy jeans and dirty tee-shirt into a crisp sugary pink sundress, which was suspended by skinny straps and finished an inch above her knees, a thin satin ribbon belt circled her waist and tied in a neat bow. She’d even remembered to alter her scruffy adidas into chic matching sandals.

“You look pretty,” Lavender commented, nodding approvingly at the dress and looping an arm through Hermione’s, she towed her across the shop. Luna was stood at the doorway, she smiled at Hermione, then nodded at Ginny. She was arguing heatedly with a navy uniformed Law Enforcement Wizard. Hermione rolled her eyes, and swept down the steps and put her hand on Ginny’s arm; she glanced at the wizard and flashed him a dazzling smile.

“Oh – uh, hullo Miss Granger,” he mumbled, red patches flaring on his cheeks.

“Hermione – please,” she said pleasantly.

“Oh, alright.” He muttered, his eyes strayed to Ginny who jutted her chin out at him defiantly, “Ah... you miss,”

“This is Ginny Weasley, my maid of honour,” Hermione whispered to the wizard, “But that’s a secret – if you’d be so kind as to keep it for me,” she added with a conspiratorial smile. The wizard struggled with himself a moment then nodded.

“Alright Miss Granger – just try and keep Miss Weasley here – uh – under control in the future.”

“Of course,” Hermione beamed, squeezing Ginny’s arm. The Law Enforcement Wizard nodded again and shuffled off, Hermione blew out a breath of relief and turned to address Ginny, but he sidled back up to them and looking sheepish muttered,

“Uh – I couldn’t get an autograph could I? For me wife, y’know?”

Ginny smirked, and Hermione looked mildly surprised and shrugged.

“Oh! Okay...” she took the scrap of parchment Lavender brandished at her, “Who should I sign it to?” she asked, glancing up,

“Um... Joe... with an ‘E’...” He said hastily, catching Hermione’s raised eyebrow, he hurriedly added, “More and more woman with male names... y’know... thank you miss... G’bye,” he babbled, taking the parchment and trotting away into the bustling street. Ginny let out a peal of laughter and wound her fingers into Hermione’s tugging her forward,

“C’mon ladies – dresses!”

- - - - - - - - -

Feathers, was not as Hermione remembered it. At all. She stood outside the large, bay window and surveyed the display. There were three mannequins, each wearing similar dresses. Huge, frothy, meringues of dresses, each with a truck load of frills, ribbons and bows a piece. Hermione wrinkled her nose in disgust and turned to Ginny.

“Uh – Gin...” She began slowly,

“You loved this shop when we saw it last time. Remember? You said you knew you’d get you’re wedding dress in here.” Ginny said earnestly,

“Last time I saw this shop was third year! My taste cannot be trusted from then!” Hermione exclaimed, slightly hysterically.

“Yes, but we’ve appointments... and Madam Rose is a friend of Mum’s... I promised we’d be here...” said Ginny, glancing imploringly at her. Hermione sighed heavily,

“Fine. Let’s get this over with,” she said, screwing up her eyes and entering the shop, over her head a bell jangled loudly, signalling their arrival and spurning her impulse to turn and hightail it out of there. Instead, reluctantly, Hermione opened her eyes.

The shop was large, a ruby red carpet edged by bars on which hung dress, after dress. There was a doorway between two clothes rails, screened by a heavy, deep red velvet curtain. In the centre of the room was a platform, surrounded by a couple of squashy looking armchairs and a small sofa. From another doorway, unseen in the corner of the store, bustled a very short, very plump witch.

“Well, hello there!” The witch sang happily, beaming around at the four. Her gaze travelled onto Ginny and her smile widened. “Ginny – dear! Oh, your mother said to expect you.”

“Hello Madame Rose,” Ginny grinned, a little awkwardly. Madame Rose waved her fat hands,

“Oh – call me Lizzie.” She insisted, bustling closer and peering at Lavender, Luna and Hermione in turn. She then leant in and grabbed Lavender’s hand,

“The blushing bride!” she cried merrily, towing Lavender along with her. Ginny looked horrified, she threw Hermione an apologetic look.

“No – no, Madam – uh – Lizzie. That’s Lav - bridesmaid, this is Hermione.” Ginny said, pushing Hermione hard in the back, sending her towards Madam Rose.

“Ooooh,” squealed Madam Rose, promptly dropping Lavender’s arm and grabbing Hermione. “Aren’t you just – beautiful! I have a million ideas already...”

Hermione shot a slightly terrified look back over her shoulder to Lavender, Luna and Ginny, before Madam Rose led her away.

## 3. Chapter 3.

Why Me?

Chapter 3.

Hermione stared, aghast in the mirror at her reflection. Thank Merlin it’s not a speaking one, she thought, I don’t want to know what it would say. It was the sixth dress she’d tried and they seemed – if possible – to be getting more hideous.

This one resembled a cream puff, yards and yards of yellowy cream stiff satin stuck out from her hips, supported by at least seventeen layers of scratchy netting. The waist had a large sash, which fastened at the back in a huge, ornamental bow, whose ties hung down and onto the long and elaborately laced train. The top of the dress wasn’t any better, a large panel of mouldy looking lace covered the front, and two huge puffed cap sleeves finished the ensemble. Hermione bit the inside of her cheek hard, to stop herself screaming.

“Come on then dear, out you come.” Came Madam Rose’s singsong voice through the heavy curtain. Hermione gritted her teeth and tugged it back.

“Oh.” Ginny said, her mouth falling open again in what was poorly disguised horror.

“It’s very... lacy,” Luna commented, her protuberant eyes travelling over the endless swirls of patterned lace. Lavender didn’t comment, her face said it all.

Hermione felt like crying with exasperation, but Madam Rose had already chivvied her up onto the platform and was examining her critically from every angle.

“I like this one dear, how do you feel?” she asked, Hermione hesitated, knowing her tongue would run away with her at the slightest opportunity.

“...I still don’t think its right.” She said finally, sighing and sinking down to sit on the edge of the platform. Madam Rose didn’t look deterred, but she patted Hermione’s shoulder sympathetically. Hermione jumped to her feet.

“This is hopeless. I can’t do it. I’m sorry Lizzie, you’ve been lovely – but these dresses – they just aren’t me.” Hermione exclaimed, rushing into the changing room and shedding the dress. She scrambled back into her clothes and without looking at the others fled from the shop.

She didn’t get two steps out of the door before she halted abruptly.

“Miss Granger – will Feather’s be the choice of store for your wedding dress?”

“Are you aware – renowned designer Madam Malkin has offered to produce the gown?”

“Does Mr Potter have any preferences for the dress?”

“Is it of a conventional style or are you likely to take a more modern design?”

“Miss Granger – smile for The Snitch please,”

Hermione groaned inwardly, there was fresh throng of journalists pawing at her. A multitude of bulbs flashed at her accompanied by the barrage of questions. Hermione didn’t answer; instead she jumped back into the shop and slammed the door. Turning, she saw Ginny, Luna, Lavender and Madam Rose all staring avidly at her. Sighing dramatically, Hermione whipped out her wand and apparated.

- - - - - - -

Minutes later she was in the quiet living room of her house. She blew out a relieved sigh, and went to collapse on the sofa when the answer machine’s blinking light caught her attention again, on her way to the sofa she hit the button, flopping into the cushions.

Hey beautiful,

Harry. The simple greeting eased the tense knot in her stomach a little,

How are things? I miss you. I’m training hard, and I’ve got a photo shoot this evening followed by a press call in the morning. What are you up to? How is the planning going? I hope Gin’s helping out, don’t do all the work yourself. Give me a ring when you can, I’m at the Grand Hotel – I left you the phone number, room one hundred and six. Wish you were here. I love you. Bye.

The machine beeped loudly signalling the end of the message. Instantly Hermione got up to return the call, the receiver was in her hand, the number half dialled when she glanced at the clock. Half six. Harry’s photo shoot wouldn’t be over for a long while yet. She might as well have a relaxing bath for a few hours. She entered the spacious bathroom and a small grin passed over her face as she neared the gigantic bathtub, Harry had insisted on the ludicrous size as it supposedly helped to relieve the muscle pains Quidditch gave him. Hermione turned on the taps, testing the jet off water with her fingers till she was satisfied with the temperature, she picked up her usual bath oil then hesitated. She set down the bottle and picked up another, pouring a waterfall of dark green liquid into the water which blossomed into mounds of thick, white bubbles.

Harry’s smell hit her nostrils, piney and fresh, utterly masculine and completely Harry. Smiling she unzipped the restricting sundress and sank into his scent.

It wasn’t near having him there, but it was something. Idly she realised he never smelt exactly like this. Her Harry usually had this faintly, cut through with a tang of something else: sweat after Quidditch or after lovemaking, sometimes the scent of bacon and fried eggs lingered after he’d cooked breakfast, and even after washing the bubble bath was contaminated by the slightest trace of peppermint from his toothpaste. Hermione sighed and leant back in the hot water.

After a ridiculously long soak, she pulled herself from the bath, and examined her pruned fingertips. Wrapped in an oversized white towelling robe she padded back into the kitchen for a drink. Pouring an orange juice she picked up the phone and took it with her to the sofa. Her fingers flitted over the digits, punching the number that Harry had left. It began ringing, and after about three peals, a sugary sweet, monotonous female voice answered;

“Good Evening, The Grand Hotel, how may I help?”

“Room one – o – six please.” Hermione asked politely,

“Please hold,”

There was a series of clicks a few bars of mechanical Mozart and then,

“Hello?”

Harry. Hermione felt her tension from the nightmarish day practically dissipate at his voice, smiling into the receiver she replied.

“It’s me,”

“Hermione. How are you?” She could just imagine him, falling back onto the firm mattress of his hotel bed, phone cradled in his hand.

“Good – well alright,” she amended, “I miss you.”

“I miss you too. How are things going with the planning?” He asked, Hermione groaned,

“Don’t want to panic you but, terrible.” She said forlornly, Harry chuckled.

“I won’t panic, if worse comes to worse, we’ll have a ceremony me and you. Or we’ll apparate to Vegas.”

“Harry,” Hermione whined, trying to cover her laughter at his suggestion, “You didn’t see the dresses I was forced into, it was horrible.” She shuddered,

“I don’t care what you look like,” he replied mildly,

“I care,” Hermione retorted indignantly, Harry chuckled again.

“I’m sure you’ll find one, Lavender won’t allow you out there looking anything but the height of fashion. What about a venue? Viewed anywhere yet?” He enquired innocently, Hermione squirmed,

“Umm... no... not viewed,” she hedged,

“Whatcha mean?” Harry asked lightly,

“Ehh... well, we’ve found somewhere – Ginny and I, its perfect. You love it there.”

“I do? Where?” He asked eagerly, sounding intrigued.

“Malfoy Manor,” Hermione mumbled waiting for the explosion. It didn’t come. “Harry?”

“Mmm?”

“What do you think?”

“I... I suppose it is a great place. And I do like it there, but if Draco brags or causes any trouble...” he trailed off menacingly, making Hermione snigger.

“I’ll be sure to warn him.” She said in mock seriousness.

“You do that.” Harry replied echoing her tone, they both laughed. Then Hermione stifled a yawn,

“What time is your press call?” she asked, Harry groaned.

“Nine sharp.”

“Ack, early for you then.” She said snickering.

“Shuttit,” Harry growled, “I’m not looking forward to being woken by the alarm clock here – I prefer you,”

“I bet you do,” Hermione laughed, “Well, I better go, Ginny’s probably going mad trying to get through to me, I kind of scampered on her.” Hermione said sheepishly,

“Okay. I’ll ring again tomorrow.”

“Yes. Night,”

“Sweet dreams. I love you.”

“I love you.”

The line clicked off. Hermione sighed and went to replace it when it jangled loudly with a ring in her palm. She dropped it in surprise. Then stooped to pick it up,

“Hello? Oh – Gin.”

- - - - - - - -

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## 4. Chapter 4

Why Me?

Author Note: I'm back with an update for this story - sorry its been so long. I am still here but just crazy busy meaning writing that isn't to do with passing exams gets pushed to the back of my life at the mo.

Chapter 4.

The next morning Hermione woke late and lay in bed in blissful silence for a long few minutes. Yesterday evening, after she'd apologised to Ginny, Ginny had suggested they had a day off for Hermione to recoup and chill out. Then moments later had announced she had booked them an evening appointment with the florists to discuss flower arrangements. However, Hermione had to agree with Ginny's sunny logic, things did look better after she'd slept on them. Rolling out of bed, she padded sleepily into the kitchen, in search of caffeine. Sunlight was shining brightly through the windows lighting the kitchen in buttery yellow.

She headed over to the percolator and clicked it on, and fixed herself a brunch as it bubbled, then poured a large latte. Carrying the mug carefully she grabbed the papers from the counter where the owl had left them and went over to the sofa. She sat down and flipped out the first onto her knee,

"Shit!"

The mug fell from her hand and washed the floor in a sea of coffee. Hermione didn't pay the slightest bit of attention as she was staring in horror at the front page of the paper on her lap.

HERMIONE POTTER stated the headline in huge, bold letters and below it, a sub heading; `Harry Potter to wed long-time girlfriend'. And then... then... the photo.

Someone, some idiot at The Daily Prophet had captioned the story with a huge black and white image of Hermione, the picture had obviously been taken the morning before, because her hair was in its horrific fright wig state, her top was wet and sticky with the brown tea stain and she had a look of complete dazed shock on her face. As the photo Hermione blinked in a remarkably Luna-esque way and rubbed frenziedly at her top, the real life Hermione swore loudly and threw down the paper, snatching up the next.

The Snitch wasn't much better, they had a similar photo, accompanied, the paper boasted, on pages six and seven with photos from her Feather's trip. Hermione groaned, and tossed it aside, picking up the final paper. This one at least didn't have her name emblazoned across its headline, apparently, her and Harry's wedding plans hadn't infiltrated the Muggle world and The Independent had a typical headline complaining about a rise in Council Taxes.

Hermione was scowling angrily at the crumpled papers scattering the carpet when the telephone jingled loudly. She got up, and stamped through the puddle of lukewarm coffee, which soaked her socks, she swore again and snatched up the receiver.

"Yes?" She snapped irritably, tugging off her soggy socks with her spare hand.

"Good morning gorgeous." Harry's voice, calm and quiet but laced with obvious amusement spoke down the line.

"Not particularly," she grumbled. He chuckled. "I take it you saw the papers then?" she said sharply,

"Yeah," Harry admitted, there was a muffled bit of speech and he chuckled again, "Ron says you look like you stuck your fingers in a socket."

Hermione grunted. "Ron doesn't even know what a socket is." She retorted moodily.

"Cheer up," said Harry breezily.

"Mmm." Hermione grunted noncommittally, lobbing the ball of coffee-soaked socks into the laundry basket.

"Come on Hermione, who cares if they printed some bad photos of you."

"I care." She said obstinately.

"No you don't. Not really." He replied lightly, Hermione sighed.

"You're right, I don't. But Molly will." She added with a wry grin, "I'm doomed, as doomed as the dodo." At that Harry started laughing again, and she felt a slight lift in her mood. "So, what are you up to today?" she asked, leaning over to turn the coffee maker back on.

"Photo shoot - Ron's pampering himself in preparation." Harry said in a bored tone, "What about you?"

"I've got an appointment with the florists this evening. I meant to discuss this with you actually... what do you think - a mixed bouquet? Freesias? Lilies? Roses?"

"I dunno Sweet. Whatever you want." Harry replied affably.

"Harry!" she moaned, "Not helpful."

"I'm sorry Hermione - I've got to go. Ron's whinging about the quality of shaving cream or something - and we were meant to be down there half an hour ago. I'll speak to you soon, relax and have a good day. I love you."

"I love you." She replied sighing, and replacing the phone onto its cradle. "Damn it," she muttered, eyeing the floor, damp coffee stain, broken mug and wrinkled papers. She stepped over the mess and snatched up her wand.

"Scourgify," she said, watching the rumpled paper soar into the bin, followed by the broken mug and the stain vanish.

She spent the rest of the day trying to relax, reclining on the sun-lounger in the garden flipping through wedding magazines. She dozed off for a while and when she woke, it was by the loud jangling ring of the telephone. She rolled off the lounger feeling contentedly warmed by the low sun, rushed into the house and grabbed the phone.

"Hello?"

"Hermione - it's Ginny!"

"Oh - hey Gin, everything alright?"

"Yes," Ginny replied, "I'm fine... um... are you?" she asked delicately. Hermione's eyes shot to the bin where the morning's papers were now residing, she sighed,

"Yeah, I'm fine too." She answered with a shrug, "What time is our appointment tonight?"

"Six, you've got a couple of hours. Shall we meet up for a drink before? I've got some good news." Ginny said, sounding very happy. Hermione glanced down, she was still in her scruffy tee shirt and jogging trousers.

"Okay." She agreed, "Where shall I meet you?"

"The Leaky Cauldron," Ginny suggested, reeling off a time and then a quick goodbye. Hermione replaced the handset, and headed into her bedroom to get ready.

Hermione showered and took more time in dressing than she usually did, in light of the morning's papers; she wanted to avoid another fiasco at all costs. Dressed in dark cream tailored trousers and a crisp white shirt, Hermione was ready to apparate to Diagon Alley.

"Hermione!" Ginny's clear voice rang across the hum of the pub, and Hermione saw the petite red head waving enthusiastically from the bar. She sidled over and dropped a kiss to her friend's cheek.

"Are you alright? Really?" Ginny demanded, holding Hermione at arms length, "Those bastard papers!"

"I'm fine Gin," she grinned, wriggling out of her grip. "What are you drinking?"

"No, I'll get them." Ginny said, leaning over the bar and instantly catching the young bartender's attention. "Three gin and gillywaters please," she purred, pushing a few coins across the counter at him. The bartender flashed her a charming smile and began making the drinks,

"Three?" Hermione said in confusion. Ginny snapped to face her,

"Oh, I'm so rude. This is the good news Hermione. Meet Estelle Maxine,"

From behind Ginny's shoulder a woman stepped out, she was tall and had an plump, hourglass shaped body. Her glossy dark hair was falling smoothly over her shoulders onto an expensive black silk suit.

"Nice to meet you," Hermione said automatically, shaking the woman's extended hand.

"Good eveening, Mees Grangerr," the woman said softly, her French accent rolling the final `r' in Hermione's name to a great length.

"Hermione, Estelle has come to England to co-run Feathers with Madam Rose. She's a designer. A brilliant designer - she worked under Coco Chanel you know!" Ginny gushed, beaming at Hermione and passing the drinks around.

"Uh - I thought she was dead…" Hermione said tentatively.

"Oh no," Estelle smiled, "Gabrielle iz alive and well, she `as just retired from `er work within zee muggle fashion world."

"Oh," Hermione said, letting Ginny steer her into a small booth, where the three settled.

"Estelle has agreed to design your dress - then she and Madam Rose will work together to produce it in time for the wedding." Ginny said stabbing the olive floating in her drink with her toothpick and popping it into her mouth.

"Really?" Hermione looked across at Estelle who nodded, her dark eyes twinkling behind the thick coal black lashes.

"What did you `ave in mind?"

An hour, three more drinks and several pages of sketches later, Estelle pushed a piece of parchment across the table to Hermione and Ginny.

"Oh," Ginny breathed, staring in approval at the pencil design. Hermione just nodded silently.

"Then zat iz zee one." Estelle said, sweeping the paper into her expensive looking leather bag and swallowing the dregs of her drink. "I will take zee design to Madam Rose now, and we will begin work immediately. She `as your measurements, I believe."

"Yes." Hermione said, "Thank you so much."

"Not at all," she smiled, tucking her bag under her arm and smoothing her hair. "See you soon."

Hermione and Ginny watched Estelle slide in her effortlessly chic French way through the crowded pub till her black silhouette disappeared. Then Hermione turned to Ginny.

"This is why you're my bridesmaid Gin,"

Ginny grinned. "I know." She glanced at her watch, "Shit! Flowers Hermione. We better get going!"

As soon as Hermione pushed the swing door and entered the florists she felt a little more at ease. The heady scent of the variety of flowers and heavy pollen reminded her forcibly of her father's green house where she had spent endless summer holidays as a child pottering around growing seeds and watering plants. The shop was crammed with jugs and vases and buckets full of every type of flower in every shade, and from behind a group of vases containing various greenery, a short dumpy witch bustled out.

"Madam Sprout!?" Hermione and Ginny exclaimed in unison.

The witch beamed at them. "Miss Granger, its lovely to see you again - and you too Miss Weasley." Madam Sprout smiled at their shocked looks, and ushered them past the counter to a small table with a number of seats. "I opened up after I retired from Hogwarts," she explained gesturing around the shop. "Now I understand we are looking at the wedding of the century,"

Hermione blushed and shrugged while Madam Sprout continued. "I always thought you made a lovely couple dear… so what are you in need of?"

"Well… alter and church decorations, table pieces, bridesmaid bouquets, button holes for family members and my bouquet." Hermione said, counting items off her fingers.

Madam Sprout nodded, scribbling on a dirty piece of parchment. "Any particular flowers to be included or excluded?" she asked,

"Well I love white roses… to be avoided… I can't think of anything offhand…"

"Oh!" Ginny piped up, "Ron's allergic to… eh…" she paused thoughtfully, "… some flower, it begins with a 'C' I think…"

"Carnations?" Hermione supplied, Ginny nodded.

"Yeah - I think that's it."

"Alright, no carnations…" Madam Sprout said, nodding and noting on the parchment, "So other than white roses what else should we include? You can explore the stock we've got here…"

Hermione and Ginny jumped up eager to examine the buckets of delightfully bright flowers. Hermione paused at a tall vase of flute shaped lilies. "These are beautiful,"

"Calla lilies." Madam Sprout provided, jotting it down.

"What about these?" Ginny said, lightly fingering some exotic white blooms which were accented with a faint green tinge.

"Phalanopsis orchids."

"Ooh, and these…"

"Germini."

After the list of flowers had doubled they chose some suitable greenery and retired back to the table. Madam Sprout scrutinised her notes.

"All of this we can do… ah… except you'll have to choose between the Calla and the Longi lilies because the two preservations charms don't mix, we had an unfortunate incident at a wedding a while back where we used both and there was a minor explosion…"

Ginny raised her eyebrows looking torn between alarm and amusement. Hermione bit her lip, she had chosen the lilies to be included for two reasons, they were her mothers favourite flower and more importantly, as a sign of respect to Harry's mother. "Uh - is it okay if I just call Harry and ask him?"

Madam Sprout nodded, "Use the phone on the counter dear," Hermione got up and left Ginny to pour over bouquet designs. She edged around the counter and tapped in Harry's mobile number.

"Hello?"

"Hey Harry its me."

"Hermione - you alright?"

"Yeah I'm fine." She said, twirling the cord in her fingers a little, "…I'm at the florists…"

"Yeah? Hows it going?" he asked sounding a little distracted

"Alright. Its just I need your opinion on something… You know how we discussed including lilies in the arrangements - you know for your Mum… what do you think?"

"I think that's a good idea." He answered quietly.

"We can only have one type though - Calla or Longi - which would you prefer?"

"I don't mind, you choose." He answered genially. Hermione frowned.

"Harry."

"What?" He asked, sounding a little exasperated.

"I can't choose, I need your opinion."

"I really don't mind sweet. Whichever."

"Harry!"

"Hermione! It's not a big deal. They are only flowers." He said in frustration.

"It is a big deal!" Hermione flared, "How many weddings have you been to where flowers aren't a major part?"

"I thought the `getting married' bit was the major part."

"I thought including lilies meant something to you."

"It does Hermione."

"Calla or Longi?"

"I don't know, I mean I don't even know what either look like…"

"Harry."

"I have to go now. You choose, I trust your judgement."

"But this is meant to be your decision."

"I've got to -,"

"Calla lilies or Longi lilies?"

She heard Harry taking several pacifying breaths down the line and drummed her fingernails against the counter irritably. "Well Harry?"

"Look - I have to go now. We've got a team meal and we're due down in the bar right now."

"TELL ME WHICH FLOWER!"

"Hermione -," he began warningly,

"HARRY!"

"FINE, fine. Calla. Okay?"

"Thank you." She replied, slamming the phone down and grimacing at her nails which were chipped and covered in soil. She stomped back over to the table and sat down, Madam Sprout and Ginny were eyeing her warily.

"Calla." She muttered and watched Madam Sprout scrawl it onto the list.

Estelle Maxine is Madam Maxine's sister J

The florists scene is a mixture of my experiences with brides when I worked in a florists, my patchy knowledge of stock from my times there and the phone argument is very loosely based on one from Adrian Mole :P

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## 5. Chapter 5

Author Note: Hi guys! Thanks for all the reviews! :D I hope you all like this new chapter To whoever was unsure about why they had to get married in a month : was simply cause it takes a while to plan a wedding and Harry is busy at work!

Thanks for the reviews! …KypDurron, Danielerin, ViolatedPenguin, Spaz141, be_be_beaky, sillyrabbittrixareforkids, kjm, anon x 2, pottersgirl, quietlylurking and Sexybabe.

Thanks to MutedFaith.com and Fawkes Ashes for some of the oneliners

Chapter 5.

Hermione had left the florists in mixed emotions, she felt quite relaxed as she trusted Madam Sprout's judgement and expertise, but her argument with Harry was niggling at her. After giving Madam Sprout instructions on how to get to Malfoy Manor, Ginny had dragged Hermione back to The Leaky Cauldron for another drink before they both apparated home. As she straightened up from her rather wobbly arrival in the lounge she noticed the now familiar red light of the answer phone winking at her. She jabbed at the button and Harry's voice floated into the room.

Hey sweet,

Hermione glowered at the machine.

Hope you've cheered up a bit. Didn't mean to get you riled up. We're really busy here - but I feel terrible for leaving you with all the planning… you know I'd rather be with you than stuck here with Ro -

There was a muffled protest, then Ron's voice just audibly, whispering `Go on, do the `I love you' bit' Hermione rolled her eyes, the scuffle quietened down and Harry's voice returned.

… I love you and I miss you and I'm sorry and… will you ring me back when you get in please?

A smile tugged at the corner of Hermione's mouth, and she picked up the phone, her fingers flitting over the numbers.

“Hello?” Harry's voice answered, sounding a little gravelly from sleep.

“It's me.”

“It's late.” He groaned sleepily, Hermione cleared her throat meaningfully, “You got my message?” Harry asked sweetly.

“Evidently.” Hermione answered shortly.

“Aww, c'mon!” Harry wheedled, “You can't still be angry about flowers.”

“Hmmf.” Hermione huffed, flopping onto the sofa and pulling her knees up to her chest.

“I'm sorry. It's not my fault I'm holed up in this hotel room…”

“I didn't say it was your fault. I said I was going to blame you.” Hermione replied, but she was grinning and it carried through her voice.

“You can't blame me.” Harry replied, “I'm injured.”

“What happened?” She asked, standing up and heading into the bedroom. She rolled her eyes as Harry described how Ron had left a cufflink on the floor and he'd stood on it, “Well don't bottle up all that pain… you know, let it all out…” she teased playfully.

“I won't suffer in silence when I can still moan, whimper, and complain.” Harry teased back. Hermione snorted.

“Wimp.”

“Heartless.”

There was a silence for a few minutes, then Harry's voice piped up again. “What're you doing?” he asked sheepishly.

“Getting ready for bed,” Hermione answered, tugging off her socks and putting on her pyjamas.

“Really?”

“Yes, really. Getting ready for my cold, empty, lonely bed.” She said with a theatrical sigh. She heard Harry give some kind of growl down the phone and grinned, wriggling down between the sheets.

“What are you wearing?”

“Harry!”

“What? I was just wondering whether you had that silky thing I bought you for Valentines…”

“No, you know I only wear that on special occasions.” Hermione laughed, as Harry tried to restrain a groan. They were silent for a few more minutes.

“So, have you forgiven me?”

“I suppose.” She sighed, hearing him chuckle in response. “I better get to sleep, it's very late and I've got a full day tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Harry answered sounding more than a little regretful, “Sweet dreams.”

“Night,” Hermione smiled and replaced the phone in the cradle next to her bed. She rolled over and directed her wand at the light switch, sending the room into darkness. Her eyelids slid shut and she began drifting off to sleep when there was a creak, then the side of the mattress dipped under a weight. She leapt up with a yelp, but smothered it when she saw Harry's face smiling up at her from the pillow.

“What are you doing here?”

“Oh, that's nice… I can go back to the hotel if you'd rather!” Harry sniffed, with a mock pout, tugging on her hand and pulling her back into bed. Hermione's retort was cut off as Harry managed to manoeuvre himself over her and plant a kiss onto her lips. She decided it wasn't worth the customary banter, and looped her hands around his neck, deepening the kiss. It had only been a few days, but it seemed like years, feeling the weight of him on her, his mouth, as his tongue probed she couldn't hold back an appreciative moan.

Harry felt heat rush through his body as Hermione kissed him back hungrily, her hands ran down his back and began tugging at his shirt. He let her drag it over his head, their lips parting only for a moment. Hermione felt her breath catch in her chest, like it did every time she felt his skin against hers, her hands pulled demandingly at his trousers and had soon pushed them down along with his boxers. Harry pulled his head up from her lips and grinned down at her, his fingers tracing the hem of the huge tee-shirt she was wearing.

“So you're really not wearing the silk…” he said, pretending to be disappointed. Hermione giggled, as he pushed the soft cotton up and began leaving small open mouthed kisses all over her stomach. “Don't worry I don't mind, it's coming off anyway…”

“Oh, thanks. You make me feel so attractive.” Hermione said sarcastically as the tee-shirt came off and her head appeared, Harry's eyes took in her messy hair and grin and his eyes glittered. He caught her lips in a bruising kiss, one of his hands sought out hers and twined their fingers together, pushing it above her head. His other hand skimmed down her side, his fingertips relishing the silky feel of her skin, Hermione's toes curled into the mattress and her back arched towards him.

Hermione was curled on her side, Harry spooning her, his arm slung around her waist, her feet tucked between his. He pressed a kiss to the beck of her neck, and she shifted slightly, releasing a purr of satisfaction.

“Thanks for coming over. I've been missing you,” she said, rolling over to face him.

“I've been missing you more, at least you've got things to keep your mind off me. I just have Quidditch, which leaves a lot of time for day dreaming about what me and you could be doing if we were together.”

“Harry!” Hermione poked him indignantly, not hiding her grin. “Anyway this wedding planning is very difficult and stressful I'll have you know, that's why I was on a short fuse on the phone.”

“Hmm,” Harry murmured, smirking at her, “I just didn't get why you were getting so worked up over flowers, but its understandable, some women get excited about nothing.”

“Some women get excited about nothing, and then marry him.” She teased, stroking her hand across his chest.

“Oi,” Harry protested, but couldn't keep the grin of his face, as her hand slid across his skin. “So you think I'm nothing do you?”

Hermione squeaked as he grabbed her hips and pulled her onto him. “Well… not nothing.” She admitted, leaning down to kiss his grin. She wriggled free and slid down beside him, yawning loudly. “I love you,” she murmured sleepily.

“I love you too.” Harry yawned in reply, planting a last kiss to her shoulder before closing his eyes.

Hermione woke with a wide smile as the night's events flashed back to her. The smile faltered as she realised that the opposite side of the bed was empty. She kicked back the duvet and got up to shower. Washed and dressed she entered the kitchen to make breakfast, as she clicked on the percolator and poured cereal a note on the counter caught her eye.

Morning, sorry I didn't wake you to say goodbye but you look so beautiful when you sleep. Last night was amazing, Roger is going to kill me cause I'm late for the Barkshire match but it was so worth it. Love, Harry.

Hermione grinned, as she buttered her toast and bit in. The phone started ringing loudly, and she snatched it up,

“Hello?”

“Hermione? It's Lavender! I just heard you got Estelle Maxime to design your dress!”

“Er… yep. Brilliant isn't it?”

“Brilliant?!” Lavender screeched, “She's amazing Hermione, your going to look amazing!”

“Good,” Hermione answered grinning, “At least it's not going to be one of those horrendous meringues…”

“Yeah. Good job.” Lavender agreed laughing. “So what are you up to today?”

“I'm not sure.” Hermione said with a shrug, “Ginny confiscated my agenda, she said it was stressing me out too much,”

“Ginny's taken over organisation? From you?” Lavender said in disbelief. Hermione rolled her eyes,

“Yes, I am capable of letting others make decisions you know.”

“Hmm.” The bridesmaid hummed noncommittally. “Anyway,” she continued, “I was ringing to ask when you want me and Luna to come for a dress fitting.”

“Err… you'd probably need to ask Ginny.” Hermione said grudgingly, Lavender laughed.

“Alright. I'll give her a ring later. Take it easy darling. I'll see you soon.”

“Bye,” Hermione smiled, hanging up the phone and dialling Ginny.

It's a short chapter, sorry! But I thought it would be better to get it up before I go abroad for a month. So enjoy and I'll get a new one out as soon as possible when I get back

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