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Harry was feeling rather fed up with weddings. He supposed he was now at the age where he had to accept that any weekend during the summer would probably be taken up with one. Dudley’s had been just a week before, and though everyone had found the stories from it hilarious, he still felt a little as though he were recovering from having faced his relatives again. Then, a few weeks prior it had been Alicia Spinnet’s wedding to a muggle, and not long before that, Ernie Macmillain and Susan Bones had tied the knot. He was tired of the small talk, of people staring at him, of his guilt that he might be distracting from the happy couple, of the stiff dress robes and long ceremonies and lengthy speeches. He did often have some fun in the end, once he’d had enough alcohol and Ginny had persuaded him onto the dance floor, but right now he could feel people gazing openly at him, and he shifted uncomfortably, hoping to high heaven that they wouldn’t come and ask him for an autograph. There was also the fact that each and every wedding reminded him that he was still carrying a ring around with him, sure of the question he wanted to ask, unsure about anything else, worrying that Ginny might be wondering when exactly she was going to get all of this.
Percy and Audrey’s wedding had much of the usual parts of a wedding that he had come to expect. A nearby string quartet played merrily, as they drank champagne that was slightly too warm from the hot sun, the ceremony had been elegant and peaceful and a little dull, and now they had been ushered into a beautiful old building in the centre of Upper Flagley for a meal that he could predict (to the point that he would put good money on it), would begin with smoked salmon or crab cakes, be followed up with chicken, and would finish with some kind of chocolate tart. This would then be followed by speeches and dancing - he had seen the same band that had played at Bill’s wedding setting up outside.
At least, he reasoned, he had Ginny with him, and she looked as staggeringly beautiful as usual, in a blue floral dress, cut off the shoulder. His hand absently traced up her arm as she leaned casually against him, looking up at the artwork, and at his touch she turned her head to smile at him, and accepted the kiss that he leaned down to press gently against her lips.
‘All right, enough of that, thank you.’
‘Shut up, George,’ said Ginny, as they broke apart.
‘Leave poor Harry alone.’
There was a huge crowd around the seating plan, and none of them fancied joining it, so he, Ginny, George and Angelina lingered by the bar at the side of the hall and waited while Ron and Hermione hurried to congratulate the happy couple - and casually ask where they were sitting as they did.
Harry spotted Andromeda and Teddy on the other side of the hall and waved; Teddy waved back, but had spotted Victoire and seemed more interested in crawling under one of the tables with her. He smiled as he watched the electric blue head vanish beneath the table cloth.
‘Excuse me…?’ A nervous looking middle aged woman had approached them. ‘Are you… are you Harry Potter?’
He nodded awkwardly, ignoring George and Angie grinning at him.
‘I just wanted to thank you for everything-’
‘Thanks,’ he said quietly, hoping she would leave it at that.
‘I’m Audrey’s aunt - well, through marriage, anyway, and do you know, I live right here in Upper Flagley, and during the war, gosh it was awful, my neighbour, he just up and vanished - muggleborn, you see, it really was just such a scary time, and-’
‘It was-’
'And of course when we heard on the wireless that you’d killed him-’ she did not appear to notice his wince, ‘-well, my husband - Ian - that’s him over there - he always thought you were dead and he came running in, and I said to him, I said, Ian, I told you that boy would be all right-’
‘Well, thank you…’
‘And he said, Barbara, you were the one who said he’d be dead in a ditch somewhere, and I said I never said that - and, well, here you are! Proves him wrong, doesn’t it? It’s wonderful to see you looking so well, I really can’t thank you enough - I was wondering, could I have your autograph? I’d love to show Alison, she’ll never believe that you were at our Audrey’s wedding.’
Harry reluctantly, uncomfortably, awkwardly agreed, and hastily scribbled his signature (he’d never considered how important it would be to actually come up with a grown-up looking signature) against the bar, pretending not to notice George, Angie and Ginny all sniggering at him.
‘It’s so exciting,’ said George, when Barbara had left, ‘to be in the presence of a bona fide celebrity.’
‘Harry, will you take a photo with me?’ asked Angie. ‘So I can show it to my mum?’
‘Yeah, my mum would like one too,’ added George. ‘She’s obsessed with you. Maybe you could sign it?’
‘Will you both shut up? What else can I do? I can’t say no, or I’ll look like a dick.’
‘I already think you look like a dick.’
‘Thanks, Ginny, you’re always here to keep me humble.’
‘That’s right,’ she said, and she went onto her tiptoes to kiss him again. ‘A very handsome one though.’
‘Here we go,’ said Angie, nodding across the hall; Ron and Hermione were hurrying back.
‘Percy said we were sitting with you lot,’ said Ron.
‘No Bill and Charlie?’ asked George.
‘No, they must have offended him,’ said Ron. ‘He’s sat them with Audrey’s brother - I was chatting with him before the service… he was telling me all about his coin collection…’
George sniggered. ‘Him and Percy must get on like a house on fire.’
‘Yeah, I get the impression that they really, really, do… Anyway, he said we’re all on a table together.’
‘Who else with?’ asked Ginny, scanning the hall. ‘They’re tables of eight.’
‘Dunno, but can’t be worse than listening to someone talk about how only seven galleons were minted in 1543…’
‘Table four, he said,’ said Hermione, pointing across the crowded room.
‘It’s going to be good fun, us all together,’ said Angie brightly, linking arms with Ginny. ‘Shame you have to join us, George.’
‘We can’t have everything we want in life, my little barracuda.’
They made their way through the crowded room, with several of Audrey’s guests still staring after Harry, and found table four, right at the edge of the hall by a Tudor-style window that looked out onto the quaint village square. In front of each seat were little folded cards with their names; Harry picked up the one closest to him. ‘Ron,’ he called, ‘you’re sitting here, and Hermione-’
George swore. ‘What the hell did we do to Percy to deserve this?’
‘What?’ asked Ginny distractedly.
He held up a little name card. Ron swore too. Even from afar, Harry read it and felt his stomach drop.
Madam Muriel Prewitt
Harry turned to Ginny in mild despair. ‘Why does this keep happening? First we get put on a table with Marge, now-’
‘Hey, at least we’ll all suffer together now,’ she said, though she looked just as alarmed. She looked up at the high table where Percy and the wedding party were taking their seats. ‘I can’t punch him on his wedding day, can I?’
‘You could do a subtle hex,’ suggested George. ‘From a distance. Pretend you were aiming for someone else.’
‘Look,’ said Ron, very business like, ‘just crumple it up and throw it away - or eat it - if she doesn’t know she has to sit here, maybe she’ll get offended and go home-’
‘Ron!’ exclaimed Hermione, ‘you can’t-’
But George was already cramming the little cardboard name card into his mouth and chewing hard. ‘Worf a shot, innit?’ he mumbled to Angie’s disdainful face.
‘Better check she doesn’t have a plus one,’ said Ginny sharply, nodding to the seat next to Muriel’s.
‘No, it’s blank,’ said Ron with great relief. They took their places, glancing over their shoulders. ‘I didn’t even know she was here.’
‘I did,’ said George darkly. ‘She called me Fred as we were going into the church.’
Ginny scowled. ‘She can’t blame that on her age.’
‘Well guess what, she did. Anyway, didn’t you hear her during the ceremony?’ He adopted a croaking, snide voice. “Well I’m glad someone in the family made a good match.”
‘Quite right, Fred,’ came that very voice. Great Aunt Muriel was hobbling towards them, her beads swinging wildly as she stomped over with her walking stick, reminding Harry of a great old vulture. ‘I’m glad I’m not the only one who thinks so. Who are you?’ she asked Angelina, but she did not wait for a response. ‘Move over, I need to sit down, I’m one-hundred and eleven.’
‘I don’t think you’re here, Great Aunt Muriel,’ said Ron hurriedly, ‘those places are empty - your name isn’t-’
‘Don’t be foolish, Ronald, I specifically requested from Percy that I be sat at the same table as Harry Potter.’ She turned her sharp gaze towards Harry. ‘You’re him, are you?’
‘I - yes - pleased to meet-’
‘We’ve already met - but you lied to me, last time, didn’t you?’
‘Er… well, I had to be under-’
‘I told Percy,’ she said, taking her seat and leaning her walking stick against the table, ‘I said “I won’t let him slip away that easily again”, and I absolutely insisted. Ginevra, what on earth are you wearing, have you no shame? I’m hardly surprised you can attract famous men if you put it all on show, but will you keep him like that? At least the bride today could wear white.’
Ginny reached for the bottle of wine, and filled her glass first, right to the brim. ‘I’m going to wear scarlet at mine,’ she muttered quietly, and Harry hoped she had not noticed his eyes flicking towards her.
Muriel thankfully did not hear her answer, and continued to survey Harry like a piece of carrion. 'I read Rita Skeeter’s book about you,’ she said. 'Fascinating.’
'Oh.’ He felt exhausted at the mere thought of trying to counter even half the nonsense in the book that had been rushed out about him the Christmas of 1998.
'Your relationship with Dumbledore - highly unorthodox.’
'Yeah, well,’ said George loudly, 'he never was one for orthodoxy, was he?’
Muriel ignored him. She was still fixed upon Harry, and though at weddings he often very much felt as though he had a spotlight on him anyway, she had a way of making him feel even more exposed than usual.
‘That book’s a steaming pile of dragon dung, Aunt Muriel,’ said Ron. ‘None of it’s right.’
‘I’d like to see you try, Ronald,’ she snapped. ‘I love her - one of the great journalists of our time, in my book. She says what we’re all thinking.’
‘I’m not thinking any of the rot she writes,’ said George, but Muriel ignored him again.
‘Ginevra, why didn’t you feature more heavily in it?’ she asked. ‘There was plenty on the muggleborn.’ She jerked a thumb towards Hermione, who turned promptly pink. Beside her, Ron scowled fiercely.
Ginny shook her head vaguely at Muriel; Harry got the distinct impression that, like him, she didn’t even know where to begin. ‘Well I certainly had my moments in it,’ she settled on eventually.
‘Quite right - I had no idea you entertained so many boys at school-’
‘Two-’
‘It’s little wonder you have a reputation - you must think of your family name, Ginevra, as though the Weasleys don’t have enough of a problem breeding like gnomes. Or are you planning to have a full litter impossible to support too? There have been times when I have thought your father was trying to create his own Quidditch team - your poor mother, does no one think what a burden children can be?’
‘Yeah, Ginny, you burden,’ said George.
The food was soon brought out, much to Muriel’s displeasure as it did not meet her discerning standards. While she complained loudly about her prawn cocktail (‘I am a hundred and eleven, I cannot take risks like this!’), Ginny refilled her glass, and topped up Harry’s to the brim too.
'I think we’ll need it,’ she said darkly, and Harry grinned.
'Ignore her,’ he said quietly. 'I happen to have a great deal of respect for your reputation.’
'Ha ha,’ she said flatly. 'Drink up so I can scandalise her later by snogging you in the middle of the dance floor.’
'Harry Potter!’ squawked Muriel again suddenly. 'Tell me about the auror department, I have a great many thoughts on the changes you’ve pushed through - Ronald, your mother informed me you’re leaving, why?’
'Well, I’m going into business with George-’
'What a ridiculous waste of time - you think that an appropriate career, do you for a grown wizard?’
'It pays the bills,’ said George defensively.
'Be quiet, Fred - an auror, Ronald, is a most impressive career, it baffles me that you would throw it away, just when your family name was beginning to claw its way back into respectability again.’
‘Right, yeah, well… I’ll bear that in mind,’ said Ron carelessly.
‘Why are you always so miserable looking?’ Muriel suddenly demanded, snapping her attention back to Harry so fast that he was surprised she didn’t wring her own neck with the force of it..
‘Er…’
She looked at Ron. ‘Why is he always so miserable looking?’ she bellowed.
‘Now, or generally?’ Ron asked flatly, and George snorted with laughter.
‘You’re his friend, aren’t you? I never would have believed you would be the social climber of the family, Ronald, but here we are.’ She looked back at Harry. ‘You could smile in press photos, you know.’
Harry nodded, because he wasn’t sure what else to do.
‘And what are you planning to do with the house?’ she asked, pointing a bony finger at him.
‘The - sorry?’
‘The house - the house, boy, in Godric’s Hollow! Molly told me the pair of you are living in Devon, but you surely can’t leave the house in Godric’s Hollow, such an eyesore! Aren’t you going to restore it?’
‘Erm…’
‘I know Godric’s Hollow very well, I have holidayed there for many years. In fact, I believe I knew your grandmother - muggle-loving old hippy! If it was the same woman - I don’t fully recall, I am a hundred and eleven and my memory is still sharp as a unicorn’s horn but I have far more to remember than most. You should do something with that house, such a waste to leave it there looking like that, and such a depressing reminder.’
‘Auntie,’ said Ron loudly, ‘let’s discuss something else-’
‘Don’t tell me what to do-’
‘What did you think of the ceremony?’ he persisted. ‘Nice, wasn’t it?’
'My tiara certainly helped,’ she said loudly. 'She’s a plain girl, but I don’t think one would notice with that. Are you going to marry the muggleborn?’ she added, as though Hermione were not sitting right next to Ron.
'That sort of thing usually happens when you get engaged,’ Ron told her.
'You’ll be wanting my tiara too, then,’ Muriel informed Hermione. 'Though I expect it would be lost in all that hair.’
‘Might do, I suppose,’ squeaked Hermione, though she had applied plenty of potion and her hair, though still thick, was currently sleek and shiny. She touched at it awkwardly and Ron, glaring furiously at Muriel, reached up and took her hand, pulling it away from her hair to hold reassuringly.
‘Will there be lots of muggles at the wedding?’ asked Muriel.
‘Yes, so you’ll have to keep quiet about a lot,’ said Ron shortly.
‘I think you should do two ceremonies, that’s what we did in my day for mixed marriages,’ said Muriel. ‘Then I can enjoy myself without having to worry.’
‘Yes, well… that can’t be avoided, unfortunately.’
‘Why are you so quiet?’ Muriel suddenly demanded, glaring at Harry. ‘You’ve hardly said a word. Is it because you’re an orphan?’
There was a sudden, heavy silence over the table, except for the slight clinking of cutlery as they froze. Harry, for his part, responded before he really had the good sense to properly think it through.
‘Well, I suppose my parents didn’t have very long to teach me to speak.’
George gagged loudly on his drink, and ended up spraying wine over the table.
‘Fred!’ exclaimed Muriel, her expression utterly scandalised. ‘Where are your manners? Where’s your sense of decency?’
He could hardly contain himself, red in the face and spluttering with choked laughter; Angie was thumping him on the back with one hand and covering her own mouth with the other. Similarly, Ron was trembling with silent laughter, looking at Harry raised eyebrows, while Hermione had actually turned away, pretending to search through her bag.
The meal only improved as the main course was brought out, and Muriel complained loudly that her chicken was too dry, while throwing back ample amounts of sherry.
‘Do you remember them?’ she demanded of Harry.
‘Who? My parents?’ he asked. He had now reached the point, no doubt helped along by the wine that he himself had drank, where he found it all rather funny. ‘No.’
‘I ran the potion shop in Upper Flagley, you know - and the muggleborn - we provided all sorts of potions ingredients - I tell you, I’m one hundred and eleven and I maintain that Diagon Alley is all well and good for the novice potioneer but if you’re looking for-’
‘What the hell is she talking about?’ George asked, but she neither heard him nor paused in her increasingly slurred ramblings.
‘-And of course when I was a child it was all about whether muggleborns needed to access such establishments, but of course by the sixties there was all that fuss and well - of course you’ll know all about that, won’t you?’ she said, waving a bony hand carelessly at Harry.
‘Will I?’
‘Of course you will - Monty - heavens above, the rumours of your intelligence are rather exaggerated, aren’t they? And of course Effie was no better - and anyway, my shop - it doesn’t exist anymore, once I sold it they replaced it with that horrible robe makers, absolutely indecent - the sort of thing Ginevra wears, I had quite a mind to write to the Minister about it-’
‘She’s lost the plot,’ said Ginny, topping up their glasses once more.
‘I think it’s an improvement,’ said George. ‘She might even fall asleep soon.’
‘-Well she came in with him and I could tell straight away - from the clothes, you know -’ She clicked her fingers at Hermione, ‘is there a reason your lot continue to don muggle attire?’
‘I - it’s just easier to-’
‘Oh, just leave her alone!’ Ron burst out.
Muriel look so affronted that Harry thought her face might collapse in on itself. ‘I beg your pardon?’ she demanded.
‘Leave her alone! And Harry! And George! And Ginny - just, just - stop it!’
Angelina was watching with an open mouth and an expression of excited delight, George was grinning madly, Hermione looked mortified, and was rapidly flapping her hand at Ron in what Harry could only assume was an attempt to calm him down. Ginny picked up her glass of wine and sat back, watching with a greedy sort of interest.
‘Ronald Weasley, I am one hundred and eleven years old and I have never, in all my years, been so insulted-’
‘I’m not going to just sit here and listen to you being rude to everybody!’ exclaimed Ron, his ears very pink. ‘Just ‘cos you’re old!
‘If you think,’ she said snappily, ‘that you’ll be getting that tiara for your bride now-’
Ron informed Muriel where she could stick her tiara, and this was the final straw.
Her screech of fury mingled with the scrape of her chair and the clattering of her cutlery as it fell from the table, and she seized her walking stick and hobbled away. ‘Molly!’ she bellowed. ‘Molly! Your beastly children - control them! Molly!’
George turned to Ron and gave him a pleasant smile. ‘You’re not so bad really, are you? Mum is going to kill you though.’
‘I don’t care, she’d have lost it as well. Old bat.’
‘Who, Mum?’
Ron ignored him, and turned to Ginny and Harry. ‘How could you sit through that?’ he asked Ginny. ‘I thought you’d snap before me.’
‘Oh, in my head deeply terrible things were happening,’ said Ginny. ‘But…’ she nodded to the high table, where Muriel had reached Molly and was gesticulating fiercely, while Molly tried to guide her away. ‘Didn’t want to cause a scene at our brother’s wedding.’
Ron twisted around, and even from a distance Harry could feel the heat of the combined glares of Molly and Percy.
‘Ah,’ said Ron. ‘Fuck.’
Thankfully Muriel did not return for the rest of the meal, and nor was she within earshot during the speeches, though they could hear her rude comments through the first dance. They watched Percy and Audrey slowly rotate for a bit, and then gradually people joined them on the dance floor in couples.
‘Try not to step on my toes with your cloven hooves,’ George told Angelina as he offered a hand to her.
‘How about you try dancing with me rather than against me for once?’ she replied, as she took his hand.
Of course, as Harry had expected, they held one another close as they danced, and he could see George’s expression softening as he spoke quietly to her. Nearby, Ron and Hermione were dancing too, Hermione giggling uncontrollably as Ron rocked them, gazing up at him adoringly.
‘She was quite charmed by him leaping to her defence, wasn’t she?’ said Harry.
‘I think so. I’m sorry I didn’t leap to yours.’
‘I’m sorry I didn’t leap to yours - but I like that we suffered together.’
‘Want to suffer more?’ she asked. ‘Don’t think I’ve forgotten your two left feet.’
‘Gladly.’
He took her hand and pulled her out onto the dance floor. He did indeed have two left feet at times, but by now they had danced together enough that he enjoyed it. He’d learnt to worry less about what he looked like, and to simply be happy that he could hold her close to him, his hand at her waist, the crown of her sweet smelling hair inches below his nose.
From somewhere nearby, they heard Muriel’s carrying voice. ‘Young people these days have no sense of propriety! Has no one told them they should leave enough room for their wands when they dance?’
‘The thing is,’ said Ginny with a heavy sigh as Harry twirled her under his arm, ‘yes, she’ll be offended and Mum’ll get an earful, but we’re only going to see her at the next wedding, aren’t we? That’s the problem with massive families. Mum’ll still make Ron invite her to his.’
‘Will she?’ said Harry. ‘Why?’
‘You’re just meant to, at weddings - it’s stupid, isn’t it? If you were throwing any other party you wouldn’t invite random old aunts and distant cousins, but weddings come with their own set of ridiculous rules, like being obligated to invite relatives you don’t like.’
Harry hummed in consideration, holding her close as they swayed. He had a sudden vision of Mrs Weasley encouraging him to invite Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, and though he was quite sure that even if he did he would be unlikely to receive a response at all, let alone an acceptance, the mere thought of their presence there, absent or not, made his skin crawl.
Perhaps Ginny was reading her mind, for she quickly said, ‘of course, plenty of people don’t follow those rules. And you never know - maybe this time she’s offended for good.’
He smiled at her, and though he at least had the common sense to know that now was not the time to pull out the ring he carried around with him everywhere, he had been about to say something along the lines of, ‘if you’re going to break the rules, may as well go big and elope, don’t you think?’
But before he could open his mouth, he felt a tugging on his robes. He looked down to see Teddy gazing up at him, his smart little suit clashing with his electric blue hair. ‘I want to dance,’ he said.
‘With me?’ asked Harry. ‘Or with Ginny?’
‘Both.’
He allowed Teddy to step onto his feet and stand between them, clutching hold of Harry’s trousers and giggling madly as they spun around the room.