A/N: In case you haven’t guessed, we’re GovCampbell and VinatieriFan010304, writing together for the first time.
Happy Birthday to BringandFly, on December 9th. She asked for fics, and then gave us this prompt to work with. Hope she likes it, and that the rest of you enjoy it as well.
Though we have worked together before, it has mostly been a little bit of help, here and there. With this fic, we each took turns writing, so it is truly a joint work. We’re jumping the gun a little bit with the pen name, but 14 days more or less, who’s really counting?
Besides us. Hee.
Without further ado, here it is:
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This is not how I wanted to start this day, Harry thought, getting up off his hard cot.
The only redeeming aspect of this morning was that he was alone. How did I let this happen? Harry thought. The night before he had been unable to sleep, and had Apparated to the cemetery at Godric’s Hollow thinking of seeking some kind of reassurance by visiting his parent’s gravesite.
Harry, however, had not counted on the over-vigilant Muggle constable, who had caught him in the cemetery. He had tried to run away, to get out of sight in order to Apparate without causing trouble with the Ministry, but Harry had tripped over a headstone in the dark, and knocked himself cold.
He woke up in the small Godric’s Hollow jail, laid out on the hard cot, and with a bandage wrapped around his forehead. Groaning, and gingerly touching his hand to the wound, he wandered across the cold cell to the polished slab of stainless steel that served as a mirror. His forehead was purple and swollen, and it hurt like the devil. He squeezed his eyes shut. I’m dreaming. I’m going to wake up and this will all be a very bad dream. He opened his eyes. He was still in the jail cell. Sighing, he patted his pockets. His wand was gone, along with his wallet and all his other personal effects.
Now, what? Harry wondered. Ron’s going to be going nuts, he thought. To say nothing of Ginny, if I’m stuck here too long.
This was most definitely not the way to start the day of his wedding.
This is not how I wanted to start this day, thought Ginny as she rolled over in bed. Stupid birds. Singing. Birds should just be quiet, and let hung-over people sleep the day of their wedding. Groaning at the pain in her head, she looked over at her clock. She sat bolt upright.
“Damn,” she croaked, before moving on to other curses. “I should have let Hermione come home with me, to make sure I got up. Now I’ve gone and overslept! And I’ve missed…” she hurried over to her list of things to do on her dresser, “…meeting with the caterer, the minister, and the florist, plus I’m late for the bridal breakfast!”
She stumbled around her room, the pounding in her head not helping her balance. Clothes…I need clothes…she thought desperately. Why did I have so many drinks? She tripped over a pair of shoes, and managed to half-stagger, half-crawl over to her wardrobe, where she collapsed. I don’t ever want to get up again…Harry can’t possibly be worth this.
Thinking about Harry was easy, so Ginny kept on that path for a while. His hair. His eyes. His sense of humour. His noble streak. Damn Harry Potter! He wouldn’t let a hangover keep him from facing a Dark Wizard, let alone a wedding…I suppose he is worth it. Ginny managed to regain her feet, find an outfit, and put it on. She only got one or two little bumps and bruises along the way. Putting on her shoes, she felt quite proud of herself.
All right, Ginny, better get a move on, and catch up on that schedule before you fall further behind. She cast about for her wand, finally finding it on her bed stand, with a note.
Hope you manage to get up on time. Don’t forget, tap twice, and say Kopfweh.
Muttering under her breath about witches who knew too much for their own good, Ginny performed the de-tox spell, as she referred to it, and Apparated to the Burrow.
This was most definitely not the way to start the day of her wedding.
The constable was looking at him warily when he came into the cell area.
“Awake, are you?” the man asked. “You’ve been out a while.”
“Am I still in Godric’s Hollow?” Harry asked. “When can I get out of here?”
“Yer still in Godric’s Hollow, aye lad.” The constable sat down on a chair outside the cell. “Yer being charge with Public Trespass. Din’ya see the sign outside the cemetery?”
“No, I didn’t,” Harry admitted.
“And then ye went and made it worse by trying to run away. Gave yourself a nasty bump, you did. What were ye doing in that graveyard anyway?” The constable asked.
“My parents are buried there,” Harry said honestly. His head was hurting more now, and he thought the swelling was increasing. He could feel pressure against his right eye now.
“Well, that’s all well and good, laddie, but ye need to come visiting during the day. I’m afraid yer g’n’t be fined for trespass.” The constable took out a pad of paper. “Now, let’s start with some basics. Ye didn’t have any identification on ye, so what’s yer full name.”
“Harry James Potter,” Harry replied through clenched teeth.
“Yer place of residence, Mr. Potter?”
“Erm…Flat C, Number 7, Diagon Alley, London.”
“And yer occupation?”
“Erm…I’m an investigator.” Harry supplied, thinking quickly.
“A private eye? Interesting.” The constable said, leaning back in his chair, and looking contemplative.
“Something like that,” Harry said, rubbing his forehead. This was getting complicated.
“Now, ye have a choice, Mr. Potter. Ye can pay out the fine of 150 pounds…”
“One hundred and fifty pounds!” Harry howled.
“…or ye kin spend the next three days in jail,” the constable offered reasonably.
“I can’t do that!” Harry fairly shouted. “I’m supposed to be getting married today!”
“Well, then lad, ye’ll just have to come up with the quid, now, won’t ye?” The constable smirked at him.
“Don’t I get a phone call or something?” Harry asked.
“Well, of course lad.” The constable got up, jangling his keys. He opened Harry’s cell and beckoned him to follow. He led Harry to the front of the small police station, where he recognized the constable who had chased him the previous evening in the cemetery. “Here ye are.” The constable who had been questioning him gestured to a telephone.
Harry swallowed, fingers poised over the keypad. Who to call? When he suggested a phone call, he really didn’t know whom to call. Almost no one he knew had a telephone. Hermione had a mobile, to talk to her parents, but Harry didn’t have the number. Hermione had once given him the number at her parents. What was it again. The number teased his memory. Closing his eyes, he prayed that he was dialling the right number.
It rang once, and a man’s voice answered the phone. “Hello?”
“Mr. Granger?” Harry said hopefully.
“This is he.”
Harry breathed a heavy sigh of relief. “Mr. Granger, this is Harry Potter, Hermione’s friend?”
“Oh, hello, Harry, how are you? Wait, aren’t you getting married today?” he asked.
“Hopefully,” Harry said. “Listen, can you do me a favour and call Hermione? There’s been a misunderstanding, and I need her help to get me out of it.”
“I’ll call her, but I think she’s at the Bridal Breakfast. Where are you?” Mr. Granger asked.
“I’m at the police station in Godric’s Hollow,” Harry said, cringing. “There’s been a serious misunderstanding.” Harry felt himself blushing.
Mr. Granger chuckled over the phone. “Tied one on last night, eh their lad? A time honoured tradition,” he said. “I’ll call her. hopefully someone can come bail you out.”
“Thank you, sir,” Harry said. “I’d appreciate it.”
“Don’t worry, lad, we’ll get you married today.”
Harry rang off. What was Ginny going to say?
“Where have you been?” Hermione hissed as Ginny slid into her seat next to her maid of honour. “Breakfast is nearly over.”
“Oh, come off it, Hermione. You know exactly where I was, or you wouldn’t have left me the note,” she whispered back, throwing Hermione a dirty look, but then turned to beam at the rest of the table. Raising her voice, she called, “Sorry ladies, but you know brides—we run on our own time table!” After getting a laugh from the girls, Ginny turned to getting herself breakfast. She quickly grabbed some toast, as Hermione poured her some juice. Lowering her voice back to a whisper, she confronted Hermione. “Why didn’t you make sure I got up? You’re supposed to be the maid of honour.”
Hermione grinned at her. “Well, you were quite insistent last night that you were fine,” she giggled scooping some eggs onto Ginny’s plate.
Ginny snorted her orange juice. “Right, and you believed me. You were there—you knew how many drinks I had…one for every male in the bar, as I recall.” She carelessly took a bite of toast. “It was fun though. Perhaps I shall have to do it again, the next time I get…” She had half-raised her fork to her mouth, about to take a bite, and dropped it suddenly. “Merlin’s beard, I’m getting married today.” The look on Ginny’s face was a mix of wonder and excitement.
Hermione’s grin widened even further. She had been wondering when it would hit Ginny that today was the day she finally would get what she had always wanted. Keeping her amusement to herself, she focused on what Ginny was saying.
“Me. And Harry. Harry Potter. We’re getting married. Today.” The look of wonder on her face just kept growing. “I just…can’t…believe it. I used to dream about this day, how it would be, what it would be like.” Ginny beamed at Hermione. “Was this how it felt when you married my brother? Never mind, don’t answer that, I don’t want to know.” Ginny sighed, and pushed her plate away. “I’m too nervous to eat. It’s just that, everything’s going so well. There has to be a catch somewhere. Sure I overslept, but that’s not too bad in the grand scheme of things. I can’t help but feel that marrying the Boy Who Lived should be…harder. There should be more obstacles to overcome, you know?” She pulled her plate back, and began nibbling on a second piece of toast.
Hermione frowned. “Well, Ginny, it’s not going to be the smooth sailing that you think.”
Ginny, who had been expecting a calming speech from Hermione, felt her heart stop. “What…what do you mean?”
Hermione sighed. “You know those obstacles you were talking about?” Ginny nodded very slowly. “Well, you were right. It’s not that easy to marry Harry.”
When it looked as though Hermione would stop there, Ginny motioned impatiently for her to continue. “You obviously know something that I don’t, so why don’t you just hurry up and tell me?”
Hermione took a deep breath. “So you missed the meeting with the minister this morning, right? The one to go over the last minute details?” Ginny nodded, so Hermione continued. “Well, apparently he tried to owl last night, but the owl didn’t arrive until this morning. You’re not going to believe this, but…he’s not coming.”
“He’s not coming?!” Ginny shrieked. The rest of the table started looking at them, but Ginny didn’t care.
“Ginny, he has Dragon Pox.” Though Ginny could sense the seriousness of Hermione’s words, she had never actually heard of Dragon Pox before, as evidenced by the confused look on her face. Hermione rushed to explain. “It’s a very rare, but highly contagious disease. One that appears out of nowhere. So he won’t be available today. He’s in quarantine for the next two weeks.” Hermione patted Ginny consolingly. “You haven’t met with him in the last two weeks, have you?” When Ginny shook her head, Hermione brightened. “Well, that’s encouraging. It means that you probably won’t come down with it yourself.”
Ginny tried to smile wanly at this piece of news, but failed. “What am I going to do? We need a minister, or we can’t get married! Oh Merlin, we can’t get married!” Ginny started breathing very fast. “Hermione, why didn’t you tell me sooner? Hermione!”
Hermione hesitated before speaking up, trying to pluck up her courage. “Well, before you panic, I looked it up. We can get a replacement, today, someone who can fill in. All heads of Departments at the Ministry of Magic are able to perform weddings.”
Ginny’s face brightened considerably. “Well, then, we can just send an owl to—“
“No, you can’t,” Hermione cut her off. “You don’t think that as your maid of honour, I wouldn’t look into this for you? I’ve owled everyone, and nobody’s available. Nobody…except people already attending the wedding.”
Ginny’s face went white. “You mean, my dad. My dad, who’s giving me away. Just like I’ve dreamed of since I was a little girl. Or…him. Those are my choices.”
“Well, um, yes,” said Hermione really slowly. “But if you choose him, it’s not like he’s a complete stranger, or anything. At least he’s your brother.”
“I’d rather have a complete stranger,” muttered Ginny, under her breath. Of all the Weasley children, she and Ron had taken Percy’s “defection” the hardest, and though he had redeemed himself somewhat in the last battle with Voldemort, Ginny had never forgiven him for abandoning his family.
“But just think, Ginny, if he does it, your father can still walk you down the aisle.” Hermione tried to smile brightly. “And the minister’s part is really rather small. He just stands there. And doesn’t have to be involved in any pictures. And, really, who would you have walk with you if your Dad performed the ceremony?”
Ginny sighed. “Oh, all right. If he’s truly my last option, I guess he’ll do.” She sighed again, more deeply this time. “I suppose I should go talk to him about it, then.”
Here Hermione began grinning again. “I figured that was the choice you’d make. I already talked to him, and he’ll do it.” Hermione could see Ginny beginning to get a bit upset, so continued on rapidly. “See, this way, you didn’t have to talk to him. I did it all for you. All you have to do is show up, and get married.”
“Yeah, I suppose…” Ginny sighed. “At least I’m still getting married, even if it is by Percy. Wonder what Harry will say?”
Harry was sitting in his cell two hours later, when Ron appeared, looking almost as bad as Harry felt.
“What in Merlin’s name are you doing here, Harry?” Ron asked. “C’mon.” Ron pointed his wand at the lock. “Alohamora.” The door swung open with a click. “I’ve taken care of the constables, and found what I presume are your effects. You let them get your wand?” Ron asked.
Harry sighed, standing up. “I fell and hit my head. I was unconscious.”
“Sweet mother of Merlin,” Ron gasped, getting a good look at Harry for the first time. “Can you even see out of that eye?”
“Barely,” Harry admitted. The swelling had nearly closed it.
“Well, let’s see if we can get you some help. There’s no way you can get married looking like that,” Ron said, handing Harry his wand.
“How did you end up here?” Harry asked.
“Well, I left your stag party long after you did, obviously. I don’t remember what time it was. Hermione waited up, and got me into bed. She left early for all the things she had to do this morning, but she’d left her mobile on the night table. I answered it when Mr. Granger called,” Ron explained. “You’re going to owe me, mate. My head is killing me,” Ron said cradling his forehead.
“Yeah, I’ll owe you, but I think in this case, my head hurts more than yours,” Harry said. “Get me out of here.”
“Yes, but where to take you?” Ron asked rhetorically. “Hmmm.” Ron paused. “I’ve got an idea.” Ron took off his watch. “Portus,” Ron incanted. “Grab a hold, Harry.” Harry did as instructed. “Three, two, one.”
A nauseating ride later, Harry found himself laying on the floor of a familiar room. A very familiar room.
“Mr. Potter! Mr. Weasley! What in Merlin’s name are you doing here?” Madam Pomfrey’s voice rang out. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready for the wedding?” she asked.
Harry realized that Ron had brought them to the Hogwarts Hospital wing.
“Harry had a little accident, Madam Pomfrey,” Ron explained. “We thought that maybe you could help him, without…” Ron trailed off.
“Without attracting a lot of attention?” Madam Pomfrey said wryly. “Of course. Let’s be seeing you Mr. Potter.” Harry rolled over and looked up at her. “Merciful heavens! What on Earth…”
“I hit my head on a headstone,” Harry explained. “I was running away from a Muggle constable. I was visiting my parent’s graves in Godric’s Hollow.”
“Well, get up off the floor, and get over to a cot,” she said briskly. “I’ll be right back.”
Ron helped Harry up off the floor, and over to a cot. Ron sat down next to him, cradling his own head. Madam Pomfrey returned a moment later.
“And what’s wrong with you?” she asked, glaring at Ron.
“He’s hung-over,” Harry supplied, as Madam Pomfrey began smearing some kind of cream on his wound. Immediately, Harry began to feel the swelling dissipate and the vision in his right eye improved. When she had finished, she took a large bottle, conjured two glasses and poured a small amount in each. “Drink,” she ordered, indicating that they both should drink. “Unless of course, you like your headache, Mr. Weasley,” she said when he looked at her questioningly.
Harry drank down the potion, cringing at the taste. Ron gagged a little as he swallowed his own. Madam Pomfrey clucked over Harry, examining his head carefully. “Well, Mr. Potter, the swelling seems to be going down properly, and the potion should clear up your headache.” She waved her wand, and Harry felt a tingling on his forehead, and he resisted the urge to scratch at it. “And that should clear up the cut. Don’t touch it,” she warned, unnecessarily. “You’ll be fine for your wedding this afternoon. Now, you boys get going,” she said. “Go on, shoo.”
“Yes, Madam Pomfrey,” Harry said, rising. His head was already starting to feel a little better, and Ron followed. “Thank you.”
“Go ahead and use the fireplace in my office,” Madam Pomfrey urged.
Ron and Harry Flooed to Ron and Hermione’s place, where Harry and Ron would get ready for the wedding.
Ron went up to the bedroom to get their dress robes, and Harry wandered into the loo to look in the mirror. The swelling had gone down, and he looked normal. Harry made a mental note to write Madam Pomfrey a thank you note after the wedding.
Suddenly Ron howled from upstairs. “Harry! I can’t find the rings!”
A sinking feeling in his stomach, Harry hurried up the stairs. “What do you mean you can’t find the rings?” Harry looked into Ron and Hermione’s bedroom, and found Ron busily tearing apart dresser drawers, leaving them hanging open as he moved from drawer to drawer.
“I know they were in here somewhere,” Ron said frantically. “I know they were.”
“Ron, are you a wizard or not?” Harry said in exasperation.
“What?” Ron looked up in confusion.
Harry sighed. “Accio wedding rings!”
There was a small ripping sound, and the ring box shot to Harry’s hand. Ron whirled around.
“Oh,” he said sheepishly. “I must have put them in my dress robes already.” He took his dress robes off the hanger. “Damn. Do you know any mending spells?” he asked, looking at Harry.
“Me?” Harry laughed. “I suggest you check your wife’s books, or else go find your mother. It’s your own fault for losing the rings.”
Ron swallowed. “Well, I guess it’s not that bad,” he said. “If I tuck the pocket over like this, no one will notice.”
“Coward.” Harry shook his head, handed the box back to Ron. “Don’t lose it this time,” he said. Harry went across to the guest room where his own dress robes were hanging. He took care to put them on, and when he was done, he looked in the tall mirror on the inside of the closet door.
“I can’t wait for the wedding.”
After the breakfast had finished, Hermione had hustled Ginny off to her old room to get her calmed down a bit. The reprieve was brief, however. The caterer had arrived at the Burrow to begin setting up just as breakfast was getting over, and the florist had dropped off the flowers during the breakfast, so these things needed to be checked on.
Ginny sent Hermione off to check on the flowers, while she went to consult with the caterers. She was beginning to feel a bit better, despite having Percy involved in the wedding. She just had to keep in mind the important fact of today: at the end of it, she would be Mrs. Ginevra Molly Potter, and that was all that mattered.
On her way to the backyard, she stopped briefly in the kitchen. Her mother was in there, supervising Fleur and Charlie’s girlfriend, Josie, finishing up the last of the dishes from the breakfast.
“Hey Mum, why don’t you come check out back with me, see how the caterers are doing?” Ginny asked brightly. “Looks like Fleur and Josie have the dishes well in hand.”
Molly smiled at her youngest, her only girl. “All right, dear,” she said, doffing her apron. “Must make sure that everything goes right for my baby girl.”
Ginny snaked her arm around her mother’s waist, and the two strolled out into the garden. They merely observed the hustle and bustle in quiet for several minutes, enjoying watching the preparations fall into place.
When the head caterer noticed them, he came straight over. “Ah, Miss and Mrs. Weasley, how are we doing this morning?”
After exchanging pleasantries, the three got down to business: comparing menus, and making sure all the decorations were set up properly.
“Yes, the centrepieces are all set to go, and the roasts will be done at precisely 2:15pm, so make sure that you are sitting down to dinner by 2, or the roasts will be over cooked.”
Ginny smiled. “Yes, I think we can manage that. Now,” she said, looking around, “when will the cake be delivered? Chocolate, right? Harry does love chocolate cake.”
The caterer cleared his throat. “The cake, miss?”
“Yes, the wedding cake. Chocolate with buttercream frosting. I have the cake topper in the house, whenever you need it,” chimed in Molly.
The caterer flipped through his notepad. “I’m sorry, Mrs and Miss Weasley, but I have no record of a cake being ordered.”
Ginny felt herself go weak in the knees, and clutched Molly for support. “You mean, I don’t have a wedding cake? Isn’t there some way you could…I mean, don’t you bake…” Ginny trailed off weakly.
“I’m sorry Miss Weasley, but there’s just no way we can make that kind of a cake on this short notice. I’ll just…go see to the rest of the preparations.”
As he wandered off, Ginny threw herself, sobbing, into her mother’s arms. “There, there, dear. I know what we can do. I’ll bake the cake.” Ginny pulled herself back far enough to stare at her mother. “I can bake you a cake, Ginny. It might not be as fancy as the one the caterers would have made, but it will taste just as good. What do you say?” She looked pleadingly at her daughter.
“Oh Mum, that sounds wonderful!” Ginny exclaimed, bursting into tears again, and hugging her mother tightly. “You’re the best cook in the whole world; I don’t know why I didn’t just ask you in the first place!”
“Well, dear, if I’m going to be baking, I need to get going.” She gently pried Ginny’s arms from around her. “Don’t forget, I have to get ready for the wedding, too. Why don’t you go find Hermione, and check on the flowers?”
“Right, the flowers,” Ginny said as her mother turned her around and gave her a quick shove toward the house. Ginny paused, and turned halfway to the house. “Thank you, Mum. I love you.” Ginny turned back and jogged the rest of the way.
“Anything for my baby,” Molly whispered, before steeling herself for the task ahead, and marching back to the house herself.
Ginny ran through the bottom level, looking for Hermione, and the flowers.
When she finally found them, Hermione took one look at her face and exclaimed, “Oh, no, Ginny, what happened?”
Ginny quickly explained about the cake, and her mum, and what had happened.
Hermione gave her a hug. “Well, I’m glad that’s taken care of.”
“How are the flowers? All here, I hope?” Ginny asked, laughing weakly.
“Oh yes, and they look just fine.” Hermione patted Ginny on the arm. “I even managed to remove the spell that Fred and George placed on them.”
Ginny pulled back, startled, and then laughed. “I should have known those two would try to pull something. Thank you for checking on the flowers, and fixing them. What had they done, anyway?”
Hermione giggled. “They charmed them to attack Harry whenever they were close enough. I think they were going to bite him.”
Ginny began giggling too. “Today’s been a little crazy, not at all the way I planned, but if Fred and George are up to their usual tricks, I know that everything will turn out all right.”
Hermione chuckled, and began tugging Ginny towards the bedroom. “Come on, Bride, it’s high time we did something with your hair…”
Laughing together, the two girls ascended the stairs to Ginny’s old room to begin getting ready for the wedding.
“I can’t wait for the wedding.”
After escorting Mrs. Weasley to her seat, Harry took his place at the front. Seeing Percy there, acting as minister was a little jarring for him, but he could hardly care. He was getting married. To Ginny. His little red fireball.
The music started, and Bill and Fleur’s little girl came down the aisle, alternately looking both shy and proud at the same time. Then Hermione came down, beaming with pride and anticipation, saving a small smile for Ron as she reached her place at the front.
The music swelled, and Harry’s breath caught in his throat as Ginny appeared, resplendent in her white gown. Her eyes locked onto his, and Harry felt his heart flutter as he thought of all the trials they had gone through. All the times it all could have gone so wrong, and yet, here they were. This was it, the first day of forever.
He held out his hand to Ginny as she and her father arrived. He squeezed it tight as they turned to the altar.
Ginny, holding onto her father’s arm, took a deep, steadying breath. Sure, it would be Percy down there, but it would be Harry, too. And Harry was what she wanted, all she needed really. She watched her little niece toddling off down the aisle, occasionally remembering to drop rose petals from the basket she clutched.
Her father beamed down at her, until he saw the look on her face. “Now, Ginny, if you’re having second thoughts, it’s not too late to back out. I’m the Minister of Magic, and I can--“
“No, Dad, really, I want to do this more than I’ve wanted to do anything.” She smiled as she watched Hermione begin her trip down the aisle. The music changed as Hermione reached her place, and Ginny tugged on her father’s sleeve. “Daddy, it’s time to go,” she said, just as she used to when she was a child.
The two of them set off down the aisle, walking slowly. Ginny’s eyes found their way to Harry, and refused to leave again. He looked so handsome, standing up there in his dress robes. Their relationship flashed through her mind. The Chamber; the years of waiting, finally getting together, only to break up; the War and the wondering, wondering if any of them would live to see tomorrow, if there would be a tomorrow; reuniting; and finally, all the tribulations of this day. And yet, in the end, it was all worth it. Harry was worth it. This moment was worth it.
She reached the altar, love shining in her eyes.
The reception was business as usual at the Weasleys, meaning, Fred and George were up to their old tricks.
The flowers that Hermione thought she had fixed turned out to still be charmed, but in a different way than she had originally guessed. Fred and George had rigged the spell so that if Hermione tried to remove it, the flowers would bite Ron instead of Harry. Poor Ron had spent the entire evening trying to avoid the flowers. At one point, the twins had gotten hold of Hermione’s bouquet, and chased Ron around the room with it.
There had also been the brief incident with the cake. Apparently Fred and George had caught wind that Molly had been baking it, and decided this would be another prime opportunity to cause mischief. When the cake had been brought out for cutting (and it was gorgeous, of course), the twins had run up the Harry and Ginny, thrown a poncho over their sister, and then ducked. Everyone knew why a moment later when the cake exploded—right onto Harry. At this point, the twins found themselves being chased around the room by Molly, who was threatening murder, until the twins pulled out the real cake. They had just rigged one to look like Molly’s cake.
Other than that, the reception had been fine. When it came time to leave, Ginny threw her bouquet, and Josie caught it. “Looks like you’re next, mate,” said Harry, as he and Ron clapped Charlie on the shoulder.
“And now, Mrs. Potter, it’s time to get going,” Harry said, smiling at her and taking her hand.
Ginny grinned. “And where would we be going, Mr. Potter?”
Harry flicked his wand, summoning his broomstick silently. “That’s for me to know, and you to find out, Mrs. Potter.”
“You could at least give me a hint,” she pleaded.
“Nope. No hints,” he said.
“Git!” she exclaimed, whacking him lightly. Then her expression softened. “I love you, Mr. Harry James Potter,” she said, as he helped her onto the newly-arrived broom.
“I love you, too, Mrs. Ginevra Molly Potter,” he said, as he leaned down, and gently kissed her on the lips.
They flew off in a shower of rice and flower petals, the cheers of their friends and family behind them.