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You won’t be upset if I show up to your wedding in denims and a shirt, will you mate?’
‘Do you really think I’m the one that’s going to prevent you from wearing that to my wedding?’ Harry replied to Ron, who had just slumped into a chair next to him, without skipping a beat.
Ron groaned and ran a hand through his hair. He turned in his seat and grabbed a bottle of butterbeer off the table behind them. Flowers that made up the elaborate table settings were already beginning to look a bit tired, and the table was bare except for a few scattered serviettes and purses left for safe keeping.
‘I’m over it. Who decided that all of our friends had to get married in the same six-month window? It’s mental,’ Ron shook his head, sipping his drink. The chairs that he and Harry sat at were turned with their backs away from the table, making for perfect viewing of the dancefloor, Harry made a face brought on by a momentary flashback to his fifth year and turned to his friend.
‘I think you’re forgetting who kicked off this whole wedding season.’
Ron waved him off, rolling his eyes. ‘Exactly. Everyone’s just trying to copy Hermione and I.’ he scoffed. ‘Which just can’t be done.’
Harry shifted in his seat. He took another swig from his beer and mumbled under his breath.
‘What was that mate?’ Ron leaned over.
Harry coughed and waved him off. ‘No, nothing.’
Ron narrowed his eyes at his friend. ‘Out with it then.’
Harry fiddled with his cufflinks before looking up again, a crooked smile on his face. ‘I was just saying Ginny and I haven’t had our- ‘
He didn’t get to finish his sentence before Ron scoffed and turned properly in his chair, his back now to the dancefloor and his legs either side of the wooden back of the rickety antique that Neville’s grandmother had apparently been saving for this very day. Harry would never admit it, but it was quite an intimidating stance from his best mate.
‘Your wedding is going to be complete chaos,’ Ron said plainly.
Harry rolled his eyes. ‘And why is that?’
Ron checked over his shoulder. Ginny had just sashayed onto the dancefloor, crouching to hold the hands of her nephew. She threw her head back with laughter. ‘Because she,’ Ron chucked his thumb towards his sister, ‘is mental.’
Harry shook off the slightly dazed look he had gained upon the reappearance of his fiancée and frowned at Ron. ‘Excuse me?’
‘She’s just not stable.’
‘I’m going to marry her.’
‘Just making sure you know what you’re getting into mate.’ Ron said, as if he was doing Harry the greatest service. Harry opened his mouth to reply, but before he made a sound, a large whoop came from the crowd on the dancefloor. Harry and Ron turned in time to see Ginny catch Louis from what must have been a considerable height. The boy giggled with glee in his aunt’s arms.
‘See?’ Ron said, ‘Reckless behaviour. They say it’s common in the youngest ones.’ He tutted, pretending to inspect his nails.
Harry held back a laugh. He could play along with this. He leaned in forward, a false furrow in his brow. ‘You had to wait until now to tell me? We’ve been dating for years mate.’
‘Honestly never thought it’d get this far. She’s such a loose cannon no other bloke has been able to handle her for more than a few months.’
Harry brought his hand to his forehead, distressed. ‘Do you think she’ll do me in if I try break it off?’
Ron looked over his shoulder at Ginny once again, then leaned forward, nodding. He indicated for Harry to come closer. ‘You know like sometimes’ -he whispered- ‘she really scares me. Like, she’s unpredictable, mate.’
Harry appeared to be lost in thought for a minute. ‘Don’t you think maybe I have a bit of a chance then? I have some experience with the unpredictable.’
Ron leaned back in his chair; hands clasped in thought. A smirk crept across his face. ‘I wouldn’t describe anything that happened to you as unpredictable, mate. Quite the opposite really. Prophesied one might say.’
Harry let out a bark of laughter. A flash of red caught in the corner of his vision, Ginny had twirled around on the dancefloor and was looking at him with a bright smile, obviously having heard his laugh. She took a hold of her dress and swished it around her, then held up her arms in question. Harry couldn’t help but smile back.
‘Well Ron, I honestly think I’m too far in at this point.’ He stood up and threw his suit jacket over the chair. He stood in front of Ron, and before stepping backwards onto the dancefloor, sent his best mate one more remark:
‘I’m not afraid of your sister, you’re afraid of your sister.’