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Author: TheGov Story: Defining the Relationship Rating: Teens Setting: Pre-HBP Status: Completed Reviews: 26 Words: 162,112
A/N: Dear Friends, You may be wondering what the delay was all about. I've changed jobs. Still no all-elusive teaching job, but I've gotten out of retail, and I'm now working in the entertainment industry. I'm now the assistant manager of the local cinema, so if you're ever in the neighbourhood, I can hook you up with some free movies. I apologize for the delay, but I've been training and so forth, so I've been uber-busy. Dr. Stephen Berger is based loosely on a character that I played in high school drama, the psychiatrist from Judith Guest's Ordinary People. The usual acknowledgements…Arnel, because she rocks the world, DancinginMagic, because she's so wonderfully British, and VinFan, because she is just…well, perfect. On with the show. -- -- -- -- "So how did he do it?" Eloise asked, admiring Ginny's ring. "On the record or off the record?" Ginny giggled. She glanced over at Harry and blushed a little. "Two stories? This one must be good," the reporter observed. Harry blushed. "We'll start with off the record," Eloise said. "I'll get the sanitized version for the paper later." "Well, we'd gone out to the theatre," Ginny began, reaching out to take Harry's hand. "And we went back to Harry's place afterwards." "Where is Harry's place?" Eloise asked. "No one seems to know anymore, not even Malfoy, apparently." "Off the record?" Harry asked. "Of course, Harry. I'll let you know when we're ready to start." Eloise nodded. "Hogwarts. I'm taking over teaching Defence." Harry smiled proudly. "Wizard!" Eloise exclaimed. "That's spectacular!" "I'm trying to keep it under wraps, though. Nothing says Hogwarts tradition like trying to guess who's going to be teaching Defence this year," Harry said wryly. "Oh, naturally," Eloise said. "Mum's the word on that one." "Anyway," Ginny continued. "We'd gone back to his place, and we had a little bit of a spat," she admitted. "But we both came around, and went to bed." She squeezed Harry's hand. "Now you see why this story is the off the record version. I think Molly would kill us both if she knew," Harry explained, smiling at Ginny. Eloise nodded. "The next morning, we're lying in bed, and he's asking me about whether I ever daydreamed about getting proposed to, and all this. And I say, 'Harry, just surprise me.' So this big prat looks me right in the eye, and says, 'Marry me.' Just like that." Ginny sighed and twisted her ring happily on her finger. "Incredible!" Eloise exclaimed. "Well done, Harry." "So naturally, I'm stunned, and I can't even get my mouth to work, so this one starts looking all sad like I've just broken his broomstick." Ginny giggled. "I was sure I'd done something wrong," Harry admitted, shrugging. "So finally, she manages to say yes." "And he gives me the ring, and we're all giddy, when the big git remembers he forgot to ask my dad's permission first!" Ginny laughed. "So I said, 'what he doesn't know, won't kill him!' And I hopped right over to the Burrow and asked." Harry chuckled. They were all laughing. "So I assume you're going to want my story to match what the family heard?" Eloise asked. "Yeah, something like that," Ginny said. "I'm only telling a few people the real story anyway. Hermione knows, I told her yesterday when Mum was out." "How's little Charlie doing?" Eloise asked. "Just fine," Harry said. "Starting to sleep a little more, making mum and dad a little happier." "Well, that's good news," Eloise said. "So, are we ready to start?" "Sure." -- -- -- -- An hour or so later, they had produced a workable interview, and everyone felt pleased with the result. "Well, you're a lucky girl, Ginny. Everyone single witch in England is going to be out for your blood." "They'll have to get through me, first," Harry said, putting on his best, I-Killed-Voldemort-Glare. Everyone laughed. "Where are you off to now?" Eloise asked. "The Burrow," Harry said, standing up. "We're having dinner there tonight. C'mon, Ginny." A moment later, they both Apparated into the living room of the Burrow, and into the midst of total chaos. There were Aurors everywhere. Hermione was desperately trying to calm little Charlie, Molly was giving a statement to someone, and everyone was talking in three different directions. "Mum!" Ginny shouted across the din. "Is everything okay?" Harry already had his wand out, searching for danger, but there was none that he could see. Everyone appeared to be fine. Minister Weasley should have been in the office, so the likelihood of anything happening to him was very small. Harry left to go out to the garden and found Ron storming about, barking orders. "Ron, what happened?" Harry asked, grabbing his best mate's arm. Ron took a deep breath and sighed. "Someone or something tripped the outer wards. By the time anyone got there, whoever or whatever it was gone. Obviously they knew that they'd tripped them, and weren't going to stick around. The whole thing is very fishy." "Malfoy?" "That's the maddening part. We have no idea. It could have been Malfoy, but it could also have been some other nut job with a political axe to grind." Ron had a point. The position of Minister of Magic, much like most Muggle heads of state, was not with out its risks inherent in the job description. As a result, Minister Weasley had a protective detail that followed him around when he travelled. There was only a marginal presence at the Burrow, however, because the whole property was warded with some of the most powerful wards known to magic. At the moment, it was the most well protected place in England, save Hogwarts. Anyone who wasn't suppose to be there would have to work for hours to get through, and trip dozens of alarms while doing so, provoking a response not unlike what Harry was witnessing now. To take as much time as one needed to get through the wards invited certain capture. "So what could have tripped them?" Harry asked. "Well, it had to be a wizard or a magical creature. Muggles are steered away by the directional ward, which circles the property and makes them hike around it. Only a wizard would have been able to get past that. A magical creature might have tripped the wards simply by having a concentration of magic. A unicorn for example." Ron shrugged. "Or a Dementor," Harry pointed out. "Or a Dementor, there's a happy thought. Anyway. No spells were cast. It was just the first layer, the detection ward that got tripped. The annoying thing is that a wizard would also be able to tell that they'd tripped it. They would have heard the snapping noise. Likewise, a unicorn might have been frightened away by the sound. We just have no way to tell." Harry nodded. He could see the problem. "So everyone's all right then." "Yeah, everybody's fine," Ron sighed. "We're still looking for clues." "Your Dad done anything lately to upset anyone?" "Not in particular. I mean, there are still some people upset with the whole werewolf thing, and old families like the Zabinis that are sore that Dad is so sympathetic to Muggles. You'd think we fought a war for nothing, honestly. But nothing lately." Ron shook his head. "What's your gut tell you?" Ron's instincts were good. "Malfoy," Ron admitted. "A madman wouldn't have cared, and we would have caught him. There haven't been any magical creature sightings in this part of England in over a decade. Whoever tried to get in over here was rational enough to leave when they tripped the wards, but arrogant enough to think they could get through." "Sounds like Malfoy all right," Harry agreed. "But I can't prove it." "That's the job," Harry said. He paused. "Listen, Ron, I had a question for you." "Fire away." "Do you know where I can find a wizard psychiatrist?" Harry asked. "A what?" "You know, a shrink?" Harry gestured with his hands inarticulately. "Harry, I've got no idea what you're talking about." Ron looked very confused. "Don't you have psychologists? People you talk to when you need help with your problems?" Harry was beginning to get a sinking feeling. "What kind of problems?" Harry looked at Ron. Wizards don't have mental health specialists? "When things come loose in your head…when you need a little bit of extra help sorting things out upstairs." Ron looked at him oddly. "Harry, I don't have any idea what you're babbling about. Is this some kind of Muggle thing?" Harry shook his head. "Yeah, guess so. Never mind. I'll ask Hermione about it." Ron nodded. "Oookay, Harry." Well that's discouraging, Harry thought. Now what? "Now, I had an idea I wanted to run by you, Harry." "What's that?" Harry asked. There was something in Ron's tone. "Weasley Wives is Friday night. I presume that Ginny will be attending?" "One assumes," Harry said. "Well, then, it seems as though we have an opening in our schedules…are you up for a night out?" "Where?" Harry asked, warily. "What did you have in mind?" -- -- -- -- "So," Ron said, finishing up his soda. He and Chris were meeting at his usual place. "You're not busy Friday night, right?" "No, I'm not," Chris replied. "How did you know?" Ron grinned. "I have my ways." Chris looked at him strangely. "Friday night is Weasley Wives," Ron explained. "It's the get together night for all my sister-in-laws, and my wife." Ron paused. "And my sister too, now, come to think of it, though she'll be a Potter. Penny'll be there, so I'm guessing you're not busy." Chris nodded. "All right, I follow your logic now, Mister Mind Reader. What's your point?" "Harry and I were wondering if you'd come out and have a pint with us," Ron said. "We haven't been out in a while, thought you'd like to join us, since Penny is otherwise occupied." "And giving the two of you a chance to see if I pass muster?" "Well, I think you do," Ron said. "But Harry's got to check too." Chris rolled his eyes. -- -- -- -- The pub was marginally crowded when Chris arrived, and he was looking vainly for Ron and Harry when Harry seemed to appear at his shoulder out of thin air. "Hey, Chris," the younger man said. "Long time no see. We've got a booth toward the back, c'mon." Harry led him through the crowd to the booth, where Ron was waiting, minding three mugs of a dark brew. "Wasn't sure what you wanted, mate, but if you don't drink it, I will," Ron said, sliding him one of the glasses. "It's wet. I'll drink it," Chris confirmed with a smile. "I've got chips coming," Ron said, speaking to Harry, whose eyes lit up like fireworks. "Excellent," Harry said, sliding into the booth. "I haven't had any in a long time." "Too many fancy dinners, Harry?" Ron said. "Where exactly have you been taking my sister?" Harry nearly snorted his beer out his nose and Chris laughed. "I'm not sure you want him to answer that question, mate," Chris said. "Places she's never been before, how's that?" Harry said, raising his eyebrows suggestively. Ron squeezed his eye shut, and threw his hands over his ears. "I'm not listening! I'm not listening!" Harry and Chris roared with laughter. "So what have you been up to lately?" Harry asked, directly to Chris. "Oh, this and that," Chris replied. "Work's been busy. You know how it is with this heat. People do stupid things when they're hot." Harry nodded. "Absolutely." "Yeah, look at this one. He goes and gets engaged to my sister," Ron commented sourly. "Congratulations, Harry," Chris said. "That's great news." Chris raised his glass and Harry clinked his against it. "Thank you. Contrary to popular opinion, I think it's one of the more intelligent things I've done lately." Harry smiled. "And speaking of my sister," Ron said. "What about my sister-in-law? What's the story there, Chris?" Ron asked. Chris shrugged and took a pull on his mug. "Depends. What do you want to know?" "Oh, leave it be, Ron," Harry said. "Honestly mate, sometimes you're worse than a girl about these things." Chris chuckled and Ron looked indignant. "How'd you hurt the leg?" Harry asked, changing the subject. "Chasing a crook?" "No, I broke it while I was in the Army." "What unit?" Harry asked. "5 Para," Chris replied. "One the Red Devils," Harry looked at him appreciatively. "Heard of us, then?" Chris asked. "I was raised by Muggles, and I've watched a fair number of war movies in my time," Harry replied with a shrug. Just then, their waitress arrived with a basket of chips, and Harry eagerly grabbed a handful. "Food of the gods," Harry said. Ron and Chris chuckled. "So have you decided on a date?" Chris asked. "No, not yet," Harry said. "We only got engaged a few days ago, we're still in the 'let's tell everyone phase.'" "Of course, when Harry says the 'let's tell everyone phase,' he also means, 'give interviews in the social pages of all the newspapers in England,'" Ron said with a grin. "Mr. I-defeated-the-worst-Dark-Wizard-in-British-history." "That bad, huh?" Chris asked. "Worse," Harry said, somewhat morosely, looking down into his beer. "It's going to be a circus." "I'm seeing a giant, out of control state wedding in the future," Ron said. "Between Ginny as the Minister's daughter, and you as the hero, this is going to shape up into some kind of disaster." "Your moral support is greatly appreciated, Ron." Harry turned to Chris. "I'm taking applications for a new best mate…interested?" "Git." Ron shoved Harry in the shoulder. "Why don't you make yourself useful and get us more beer?" Harry suggested, finishing his mug. "Why me?" "Because I bought back the first round," Harry said. "It's your turn." Ron grumbled, and rose from his seat. Chris shook his head. "How long have you two known each other?" "Oh, since we were eleven," Harry said. "Too long in some respects, not long enough in others. He and Hermione have stuck by me in some of my worst moments." Harry picked a few more chips out of the basket. "Lucky guy," Chris told him. "It's nice to have a good mate." "Yeah." Harry paused. "I've got an odd question for you," Harry asked, picking at a chip in the table with his fingernail. "Yeah?" Chris said, raising an eyebrow. "Did you ever…" Harry paused, still looking down. "Did you ever need…help…in getting through things? Like after your accident?" Chris narrowed his eyes. "What kind of help, Harry?" he asked. Harry waved a hand. "Help sorting out…things…in your head." Chris nodded slowly. "I see." "I'm having a hard time…" Harry ground out. "I'm having a hard time with the war." Chris pulled out a business card from his wallet and took out a pen. On the back he wrote a name. "Here," Chris said, sliding the card across the table. Harry took it and read it, and then tucked it in a pocket. "I went there a couple of times after I got out of the hospital," Chris said. "Maybe he can help." Harry nodded. "Thanks." Ron came back just then, holding three mugs. "Here," he said. "What'd I miss?" "Nothing," Harry said. "Just Harry telling me how good your sister is in the sack," Chris said, an evil grin coming across this face. "I don't want to hear it!" -- -- -- -- Harry stood in the street outside the doctor's office. He took a deep breath, and entered the building. He had called from a payphone and made an appointment, specifically asking for the doctor's last appointment of the day. He thought the appointment might take a while, and didn't want to impose on someone else's time. He also figured that if he had to do something drastic, it would be easier to cover up with fewer witnesses. The doctor's office was on the fourth floor of a run-down looking building just north of Hyde Park. The brass plaque on the door proclaimed the dingy looking office to be that of Dr. Stephen Berger, Ph.d. Harry let himself in and found himself in small waiting room. A frumpy looking old woman was just packing her purse. "You must be Mr. Potter. He'll be right with you, luv," the woman said, and Harry nodded. She disappeared out the door. Harry hadn't been waiting long, when a tall man with glasses, unkempt curly blond hair, and fuzzy bush of a moustache appeared in the doorway that led to the other part of the office. "Harry Potter?" The man looked around. "You're Harry Potter?" the man had an American accent. "Yes, sir," Harry replied. "Well, that can't be right," the man said, looking at the chart in his hand. "My receptionist made a note here that you said you were a combat veteran. You're not hardly old enough, are you?" The man's eyebrows furrowed. "Well, I suppose you could be, what was it, the Troubles? Have a run in with the Provos?" "Not exactly," Harry replied. "Can't talk about it then?" the doctor said knowingly, touching his nose. "It's all right. The Ministry has a big file on me. They probably sent you to me, right?" "Maybe I'd better come in and explain," Harry suggested. "Suits me fine, come on in," Dr. Berger beckoned. Harry followed him into the office. It was quite cluttered. Berger motioned to an overstuffed armchair, and walked around behind the desk. "Coffee?" he offered, pouring himself a cup. "Sure," Harry replied. Berger handed Harry a cup. Harry took a sip, and nearly spat it back out. "Too strong for you? Everyone says that." "How do you drink that? It can feel it eating my stomach lining, and I only had a sip. I'm surprised it doesn't eat the cup." "Developed a taste for it when I lived in Chicago," the doctor shrugged. "Now, what seems to be the trouble, my enigmatic little friend." Harry took a deep breath. "Well, I guess it starts like this. For years, I grew up in a cupboard under the stairs, living with my aunt and uncle, because my parents had been killed. My aunt and uncle only took me in begrudgingly, and kept me locked in a cupboard under the stairs for most of my young childhood." "That's a good one, never heard that one before," the doctor chuckled. "I'm not kidding," Harry looked him in the eye. Berger caught his expression and slowly lowered his coffee mug. "You're not, are you?" "No." Berger picked up his pen and pad. "Maybe you better start again." Harry began to tell him the story of his childhood. "Wait a minute," Berger stopped him. "Do you have any idea why your aunt and uncle would do this?" "Well," Harry said. "They thought she, and my dad, and me, were freaks." "Freaks? In what way." Harry took a deep breath. This was the tricky part. Mr. Weasley hadn't been keen on Harry's request to do this, but he'd acquiesced, probably more from sympathy than any real legal grounds. "Well, it's like this…" He paused. "We…" "Go on." "Hell, there's no good way to do this. We're wizards." "I'm sorry?" "Wizards." "You're putting me on, right? This is all an elaborate hoax. Where's the video camera? Haha, you got me," Berger said, looking around the office. "Will you permit me a small demonstration?" Harry asked. "Knock yourself out," Berger laughed. "This ought to be good." He picked up his coffee mug to take a swig. Harry drew his wand and pointed it at the small table next to Berger's chair. He muttered an incantation, and in the place of the table sat a small dog. Berger's coffee mug shattered on the floor. "Reparo," Harry said, and the mug repaired itself. The dog sniffed at Berger, then trotted over to Harry, wagging its tail. A wave of the wand, and the table reappeared. Berger was as pale as Nearly Headless Nick. "That's impossible." "No, its not. It's magic." "There's no such thing." "I beg to differ." Harry waved his wand and the mess that was Berger's desk tidied itself. Berger blinked a few more times, and the colour began to return to his face. "Okay. So you're a wizard. I'm still having trouble putting my head around this concept." "It does take some time. I grew up as a Muggle, and it was a shock." "A Muggle?" "A non-magical person." "Ah. So, there are many wizards?" "Yeah," Harry said. "I'll give you a quick orientation," he began. "Wizards have always existed, and they do still today. We keep ourselves separate from the rest of the world, for a number of reasons, mainly for our own safety. We live in parallel worlds. We occupy the same places, share language and history, but for all intents and purposes, separate. We have our own technology. Some of it, I regret to say, is not as good as yours. Some of it is better. We have our own system of medicine. We don't, however, have a mental health program. That's why I had to come to someone outside my world." "Okay." Berger looked as if he was feeling a bit more comfortable. "So, that's why you came to me. Your parents were killed, and you were taken in by an evil aunt and uncle who hated the fact that you were, quote unquote a freak. And hated your parents for the same reason." "Right so far. But that's not all." "Oh?" Harry spent the next several minutes telling his story. How his parents died, the prophecy, Sirius, the final battle. And in the end, he finally arrived at his reasons for coming. "…so, I'm having this problem. Something will set me off, and I go plunging into this pit of despair, and can't seem to find my way out, and want to push away everyone close to me. I get cold, and clammy. I feel like I want to shrivel up and die." "Right," Berger said, scribbling more notes in his pad. "And I really want to be…I don't know. All together. I mean, I'm trying. I've got a new job, and Ginny loves me, and I want to be the kind of guy she deserves. How do I do that?" "Well," Berger said. "I guess you weren't kidding when you said you were a combat veteran. We've also got some severe attachment issues, though you've managed those quite nicely on your own, by the way. Although you should really thank Molly Weasley, and those great Professors of yours for helping you find acceptance. Remus…what was his name again? Uncle Moony, the werewolf." "Remus Lupin." "Right," Berger said, "Lupin, the wolf. Should have remembered that one." He looked up. "But the current underlying condition is something called Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder." "So what do I do?" "Well," Berger began. "We're going to try and identify your triggers, and see if we can get you to associate them with something other than your trauma." "Okay." "But," Berger said. "We're going to do that in future sessions." He pointed to the clock. "We've been here far longer than we should have been." Harry could see it was dark outside the window. "This is why I asked for the last appointment of the day. I knew there would be a lot of explaining." Berger nodded. "Now all this is covered by patient client confidentiality, right?" Harry asked. "Yes." Berger replied automatically. "Besides," he shrugged. "Who would believe me? In any case, all your secrets are safe with me. I've got no one to tell. I live alone; I'm married to my work." "I'm sorry," Harry replied. Berger shrugged. "It's a living, and it's the way I like it." He rose. "Good night, Harry." "Good night, Doctor." Harry drew his wand. "Oh, you're about to see something we call Apparition." "Apparition?" "I disappear from here, and appear where I want to go, instantaneously. Since no one is here to see me leave, I can just Disapparate." "Right." "Good night." Harry closed his eyes, and with a soft pop, he disappeared from view. Berger shook his head. "No one would believe me anyway." -- -- -- -- "Harry?" Ginny called from her kitchen. They had fixed the problem with her wards and he had Apparated into her living room. "Right here, love," Harry answered. "What are you up to?" "Making some dinner," she replied. "How was your appointment?" "Bizarre," he answered. "But it went ok." "Good," Ginny said as Harry joined her in the kitchen. She handed him a knife. "Cut up those carrots, will you, love?" "Sure thing, Gin," he replied as he took the knife. "How was your day?" "It was all right. I went to the market and got some groceries. I saw Angelina in town with the twins, and she offered her congratulations." "Oh, good," Harry replied. "How is she, anyway?" "She's doing well. The twins are running her ragged at this age, but she says Fred is a big help." "Really?" "Yeah, putting up with him for years at Hogwarts was good practice." Harry and Ginny laughed as they prepared dinner. "So," Harry began. "I'm going to go up to talk to McGonagall tomorrow." "About?" "About getting the Great Hall for our wedding. Have you given any thought to a guest list yet?" Harry asked. "I've started to put some names together," she admitted. She waved her wand. "Accio guest list!" A scroll of parchment sailed into the room. Harry grabbed it, and began to scan the list. "Let's see. Ron, Hermione, Fred and Angelina, George and Alicia, Bill, Mum, Dad, Remus." He looked up. "You haven't gotten very far." "No," Ginny admitted. "I haven't, but I haven't really had the time to work on it, I guess." Harry sat down and summoned a quill. "Well, let's keep at it then," he said. "Tonks," he began, scribbling her name down. "Kingsley, Neville and Luna." "Seamus and Lavender, Colin and Eloise." "Now we're getting somewhere…" -- -- -- -- Minerva McGonagall was eagerly anticipating a visit from her Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. It was the first time she would see him since he'd announced his engagement to young Ginevra Weasley, and it pleased her no end. When the four children had been at Hogwarts, Hermione had by far been her favourite, always applying herself, pushing herself to succeed. And then after the dreadful business with her parents, McGonagall had found herself keeping an extra close eye on the girl, and it pleased her to think that they had become friends, and that she had become part of the vast extended family that she had adopted for herself, including the Weasleys and Harry Potter. But she'd also kept an eye on Harry Potter. He'd been such a lost boy, with no guidance, when he'd arrived at Hogwarts. Somehow, somewhere, he found the inner compass to make the right decisions for the first several years, and she'd watched with pride as he brought glory and victory for her house. Beyond that, she had watched him deal with the issues that had plagued his young life, some better than others. It had been so hard to maintain professional distance from the boy, especially in that disastrous fifth year. In the end though, he'd weathered his storms, and found his place in the world. She'd watched his career as an Auror from afar, and if she were honest with herself, she'd never been as proud of him as she was the day he walked away from it all. She suspected Ron's influence on the decision, but however it came about, she was pleased that he was finally giving himself an opportunity to find himself. One of the reasons she offered him the job here at Hogwarts was to give him an opportunity to come back, to this place he had so many fond memories of, in the hopes that he would find comfort and solace here. And then the rumours had started about Harry and Ginny. Minerva had been absolutely ecstatic over the possibility. Albus would have bounced through the ceiling, if he'd been here to do so. Harry was finding a normal life. She kept quiet tabs on Harry through her connections to the Weasleys, mainly through Hermione. She was very pleased, and she'd nearly cried when Hermione had owled her that Harry and Ginny had become engaged. Harry had been out of his office whenever she'd gone down to see him, but she imagined that he was busy with making arrangements. So when Harry had asked to see her, she jumped at the chance. The chime sounded from downstairs, letting her know that Harry was on his way up, and a moment later she heard a soft knock on the office door. "Come in, Harry," she called. Harry stuck his head in. "Good morning, Professor," he said. "I hope that I didn't force you to reschedule anything in order to meet me. I know you are busy this time of year." "These days, Harry, the school seems to run itself. Even with the start of term only a few days away, there doesn't seem to be much left to do." She sighed. "Congratulations are in order, I think, Harry. I'm very pleased for you." "Thank you, Professor. We're both very excited. "It has been quite a week." "I'm sure it has," she said. Quite a week was putting it mildly. In the week and a half since they became engaged, they'd been on the cover of Witch Weekly, the Daily Prophet, the Quibbler, and half the smaller papers from London to Glasgow, as well as some international papers. "And actually, that's what I wanted to come talk to you about, Professor." "Oh?" "Ginny and I were wondering if it would be possible to hold our wedding, here, in the Great Hall." "That would be lovely, Harry!" McGonagall exclaimed, "when were you thinking of having the wedding? Next summer?" "No, actually," Harry smiled. "Over Christmas holiday." "So soon?" McGonagall raised an eyebrow. "We decided we were tried of wasting time," Harry answered. "We've already started a guest list, and we should be ready to send out invitations shortly. We need to make sure we have a place, and Ginny's going to start shopping for a gown. We're on top of this," Harry assured her. "Well, let us see. We send the students home on the 20th," McGonagall considered, looking for her calendar. "What day were you looking at?" "Well, how about the 23rd?" Harry suggested. "It's a Saturday, which means people won't have to take off from work." "That would be fine, Harry," McGonagall said. "I figured that if there are any students left in the castle, we'll tell them after everyone else leaves that they can come. Can't tell them before hand, or the whole school will stay behind." "Quite right," McGonagall said. "I'll get ready and mark that down on the calendar, Harry. This is quite exciting. First wedding to take place in the Great Hall in quite some time, I imagine." "Well, we decided that we had so many good memories from here, it just made sense," Harry said, and paused. "That, and we figured there wasn't another place big enough short of renting out a Quidditch arena." McGonagall chuckled. "Yes, it does have that advantage," she said. "I imagine there'll be quite a few people coming to the wedding." "Just a few," Harry said. "We're trying to keep it from running away from us." "I wish you the best of luck there, Harry," McGonagall said. "I'm not sure it will do any good." "I'm not either, Headmistress," Harry said. "But we're going to do our best. If worst comes to worst we can always pull a Fred and George." "Elope?" McGonagall raised an eyebrow. "I somehow think depriving Molly Weasley of her only daughter's wedding would not be the best way to impress the in-laws." Harry had to laugh. "Well, you're right about that, Headmistress."
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