Squinting at her reflection in the full-length mirror, the recently turned Weasley-to-Potter huffed disagreeably at what she was seeing. "Please tell me my dress selection was not as terrible as this. If it was, you tell me right now, Hermione. If I made you look like a bloody fool, tell me!"

Sitting on a stool, trying to fix her hair into an updo (after Ginny had taken the liberty of straightening her curls), Hermione did not spare eye-contact for she was under the pressure of assuring everything was complete perfection or eyes someone would have her head. Literally.

"Your dresses were fine," she mumbled to Ginny.

With her fingers now tugging at her silky, red waves, Ginny opened her mouth to continue protesting, but she was cut off immediately.

"And for the thirtieth time, no. You should not temporarily dye your hair black. Leave it as is or I'll be forced to confiscate your wand."

"It's red, Hermione. Red! How do you expect it to coordinate with this?" Ginny pulled on the v-neck of her deep pink bridesmaid dress, stomping one heeled foot on the carpet floor.

The bedroom door opened with a bang, startling both girls into a silence. There stood an angry Pansy Parkinson, wrapped in a bathrobe with her usually neck-long hair now reaching her shoulders, curled into perfect ringlets.

"Will you shut up?" she snapped at Ginny. "I can hear you bitching from the bathroom and it's three levels away! The color of the dresses will stay the same, you will not alter your features, and you will stop shouting or get out!"

At the tension that was no invading the room, Hermione put her head down, suddenly finding the carpet far more interesting.

Surprisingly, though, Ginny settled her rage in one swift movement. "I'm sorry, Pansy," she murmured carefully. "This really is a lovely dress. I promise I'll stop complaining now."

Startled by that quick compliance from the untamable Ginny Potter, Pansy forced herself to let go of her ire, too. "I didn't mean to suggest that I'd be happy if you left, Ginny. You know I need you here."

"I didn't meant to imply I wanted to leave, either," Ginny said with a vague hint of sarcasm. This was her bedroom, after all; it was her house, her garden, and her brother that Parkinson was marrying. Technically, it was she that would have to leave. Seeing, however, that Ginny was a kind girl, she would allow the Slytherin to marry her brother (after all, Pansy was doing all the Weasleys a favor of having Ron, so there was no point for Ginny to delay the process).

Pansy smirked now as the door closed behind her. She pulled on the knot that held her bathrobe closed. "Of course you wouldn't want to leave. It's the wedding of the decade. Not to mention I wouldn't survive if you left."

Ginny scoffed. Sure, like the press would be talking about Pansy Parkinson and Ron Weasley's wedding instead of Harry Potter's. Ha. Half of the reporters that will somehow turn up hiding behind the bushes of the Burrow will end up focusing on the Boy-Who-Lived and every step he took with the Girl-Who-Tied-Him-Down (talk about Pansy's future tantrum).

"Mum is still crying?"

"Like Moaning Myrtle!" Pansy grunted as she flung her pink bathrobe off her body. "When I apparated here I found her crying in Ron's old room with a box of tissues and his childhood photos. She looked like she had been up since before sunrise. It honestly terrified me."

Finding that the coast was clear from any impending hurricanes, Hermione said, "Molly couldn't have been that bad. She only cried three times at Ginny's wedding. And that's when she saw Harry, in the ceremony, and when they apparated away."

"Clearly, Hermione," said Pansy, "you left earlier than Ron and I did. Molly almost had Charlie go after Potter to steal Ginny back. She started crying so hard Arthur ran away. It was embarrassing, actually."

Ginny sighed as she thought back to her mother looking tempted to drag her back by the veil of her wedding dress that night she married Harry. "She's sensitive. She's gotten used to a full house, and now we are all leaving. It must be hard."

"Yes, but we will always come to visit," Pansy said casually in return, shoving Ginny away from the mirror as she proceeded to direct her painted eyes at her underwear-clad figure.

"Sure you will, Parkinson," snorted Ginny.

Pansy frowned. "We will. Once we're out of Hogwarts, I'll make sure Ron and I stop by every Sunday. I promised your mother we would, anyway. I'll be damned if I let the traditions of my family get to him," she muttered the last line, glaring now at the small roll that formed on the side of her stomach. "Salazar knows I won't be seeing my parents after this. Mind as well adopt new ones — better ones for that matter."

Hermione and Ginny exchanged a confused look that slowly transformed into one of understanding. Although it was out of Pansy's hands who she married, Mister Parkinson was sure to disinherit his Pureblood princess for accepting the surname of the greatest Blood Traitors known to all wizard kind.

"Who needs them, anyway? There are plenty of Weasleys to go around. Mind you, you're about to become one. In our family there is nothing we wouldn't do for each other," said Ginny with a smile that had not appeared since she pulled on the tragic pink dress. She placed a comforting hand on Pansy's shoulder. "And we are family now."

In the glass ahead, Pansy's eyes glittered with a knot of emotions that was rare to her.

Family. That was such a strange word to tie affection to. Growing up in dark times, after all, meant a concrete path for the Parkinsons' only daughter. She always got what she wanted, was told she was superior than the filth at Hogwarts — how can she not become the coldhearted girl she was taught to be? She was taught never to trust and befriend the enemy, nor to get too near to others who were deemed acceptable. She was trained to be alone; to seclude herself from other girls, to never know what having a true friend was about. She was abandoned by her parents when they were out there promoting their prejudice values, never knowing what being held by a sibling was like, caressed by her mother, or loved by others. Until now. A new world painted itself and opened its doors for her without any pretenses. Arms were now being stretched out to her and there was nothing more that Pansy wanted than to let herself be enveloped by them.

"Quit being sentimental," Pansy laughed her emotions away, attempting to hide her vulnerable side even if her eyes were now swimming with tears. "This is my wedding and I expect to be the center of attention."

Going along with the show, Ginny rolled her eyes at the Slytherin and made certain her words came out with more attitude than necessary (Pansy could consider it an additional wedding gift). "Oh, yes, Parkinson. I forget you're walking down the aisle by yourself to marry your gigantic ego."

Pansy turned from the mirror to the small closet in Ginny's room. "You're fortunate to get me as a sister-in-law, Ginny. I've seen the others. Nothing interesting there, if you ask me."

"If I asked you no one else exists."

Pansy shrugged, now more focused on pulling out a white dress from the closet. Her eyes welled up with love.

"—Am I late?"

"Oi!" Ginny whipped out her wand and pointed at it at door entrance. "Get out of here!"

"Ronald," Hermione scolded the tall redhead wearing velvet robes , "it's bad luck to see the bride before the wedding."

"I'm just making sure," Ron snapped. "I woke up late, Harry took forever in the shower, Mum wouldn't feed me, George magicked my robes maroon, and Dean told me Pansy made a run for it after the ghoul got to her."

Ginny lowered her wand. "Dean's here? With Luna?"

"Obviously. Luna told Mum she was going to the garden to talk to the gnomes, then Dean told Harry he needed fresh air. The two haven't been since then. Although, Harry claims he heard the gnomes giggling about something by the chicken coops."

Hermione grimaced. Although they were not that far in the age gap from each other, she would never get used to the idea of Luna Lovegood maturing in such ways (the explicit ways). It seemed unnatural and sadistic — Hermione was tempted to dip Luna in a tub full of holy water to wash away the sins Dean put on her.

"Ron," she said instead, "just go before Ginny curses you. Pansy will be ready in a bit."

Ginny shoved her brother out of her room. "You're not even supposed to see the bride in her unmentionables until after the wedding."

Ron snorted as Pansy laughed in the crook she was being hidden in by Hermione. "That's rich, but guess who chose those lacy things for her today?"

Gasping and hissing, Hermione and Ginny shouted, "Get out!"

"You two shouldn't even be allowed to get married," said Ginny to Pansy.

"She wouldn't be allowed to walk down the aisle in a white dress."

Pansy stuck her middle finger out at the witches as she smirked. "Whatever happened in our chambers is between us and the Ministry. After all, we were just being good students and doing our homework ahead of time."

Hermione and Ginny scowled at her disapprovingly.

"Did they or did they not say to speed up the fornication process and pop out those kids to save our world?" Pansy asked them. "We were just being good citizens."

Pansy and Ron were surely going to be responsible for the entire next generation of the Weasley children to sprout.

X

"Ronald Billius Weasley—" From where the guests sat, in various directions that the chairs were aligned on the Burrow's garden, one was able to see the wrinkled nose of the Groom as the Ministry Official used his middle name. (Oh, the shame.)

"...I thought they were supposed to leave that out?" Angelina Johnson murmured to the grinning George Weasley sitting on her right.

Whispering back, George murmured, "well, apparently they didn't Angie." His freckly cheeks turned a scarlet color as he turned his neck in a small angle and caught a glimpse of Harry, Ginny and Hermione. "...Poor Ronnikens, he must feel immensely embarrassed."

Wham.

"Shut it, George," Bill hissed dangerously low, removing the back of his left palm from the side of brother's head. All the while his free hand rubbed soothing circles on his pregnant wife's leg as she cried into a handkerchief.

"Oh, 'ee grew up so fast," Fleur Weasley was heard from the background as George sent his older brother a deep glare.

"—Do you, Pansy Parkinson," the voice of the Ministry Official echoed from person to person, silence reigning again as he looked at the bride, "take this wizard to be eternally yours, to accept his soul, to magically bind you two through his accomplishments, his failures, his health, his sickness, his joy, his anger, his everything for the rest of your days?"

Swallowing the blissful knot in her throat, Pansy nodded delicately. "I do."

The old Ministry Official smiled at the Bride and Groom. "I declare you two bonded for life, blessed in this sacred union, man and wife." He raised his hands to the newlywed couple in front of him, but looked at the guests. "I give you, Ron and Pansy Weasley!"

All at once—in what looked like a massive wave of red hair—the original Weasleys stood first, almost automatically. And the soon-to-be and those adopted into their fast-growing clan rose together and clapped thunderously at the sight of Pansy and Ron leaning towards each other.

"Get it, Ron!" Seamus Finnegan was heard from all the clapping and cheering as he stood on his chair and jeered at the couple.

"—Make him yours, Pans! Take it! Take it! Snog him right!" Joining Finnegan by crawling on top of a chair next to his, Blaise Zabini raised his arm and started punching the air with pride. "Slytherin! Slytherin!"

Standing beside the two howling boys, Cho took a cautious backwards step from them.

"Just walk away, Cho." Lavender Brown told her as she also stared at her fiancée with great embarrassment. "Just walk away." And she pulled the Ravenclaw girl by her arm and away from the two thickheads on top of the chairs.

Laughing loudly, eyes flickered for a second to the massive sprout of Slytherins and Gryffindors shouting obscenities at the new Weasley couple in unison, Harry placed a warm hand on his best friend's waist as she scowled at the crudeness of it all. "Who would ever imagined that the house-unity Dumbledore always encouraged would actually pay off one day, eh, 'Mione?"

The brunette huffed, and crossed her arms.

Harry grinned at her. "Made a break for it, did you?" He nodded over to the redheaded group.

The brunette nodded, pushing Harry's hand away from her bridesmaid's dress. "I was going to go congratulate Ron, but Mrs. Weasley threw me out of the way." She explained to him. "And once I tried to get to Pansy, Ginny beat me to it. I just assumed it was safer until all the Weasleys got their blessings out of the way before I attempted it again."

"—Get with the times, old man!" Blaise shouted, waving at Pansy's father as he gave him a deep frown from his 'Make him a man, Pansy!' comment. (Blaise was officially off the Parkinsons Christmas list.)

Harry nodded once, understanding perfectly; even ignoring the little fact that she pushed his hold away from her. "I prefer stepping out of the picture when they all gather like that," he then pressed his palm to the small of her back and pushed her away from the crowd. "It makes me feel a bit out of place."

Sighing in defeat, Hermione turned her raised eyebrow at her best friend. She knew that Harry always felt somewhat of an outcast when it came to being around the Weasleys, just like she did; but both of them had refrained from speaking the subject aloud, especially to each other because they were grateful for the entire Weasley clan.

"...Well, you better get used to it, Harry." Hermione whispered to him as they walked softly. "You're bound to attend at least three other Weasley weddings, and not to mention the holidays that are going to emerge from them. You know that the Weasleys never do anything ordinary or simple. You will always be surrounded by people, whether you like it or not."

"Thank Merlin, then, that I don't have some twisted claustrophobic disorder." Harry laughed, grinning as the bright sun washed over their faces and the light wind blew all around them as they stepped into the furthest part of the garden. "If I did, I would have never survived with them for all these years."

Hermione looked over to the scenery for a few seconds. Trying to bask in the sun for a few moments, trying to warm herself in that constant coldness she felt inside of her. "...And the more to come," she finally replied, whispering as she crossed her arms over her chest as she stepped away from Harry's hand more politely than she had the first time. "Remember, Harry, that you're their family now. You always have been, but at least you should be content and willing to be a part of the celebration now that the holiest of bonds joins you and Ginny together. You have nothing to walk away from."

Harry's smile was erased from his face and his bespectacled emerald eyes looked momentarily saddened. "...Mrs. Weasley is very hurt with you, you know?"

"Why's that?" The brunette asked, her eyes looking far into the sun and the fluffy white clouds in the skies above to bother to look at him. She'd barely managed to hear what her friend said, her mind was calculating that the hue of the clouds, when the sun was setting, looked alike a certain Slytherin's hair when the sunrays hit his silky blonde strands.

"Yesterday, when we arrived from Hogwarts early to set everything up before the wedding, she said you locked yourself in the restroom for hours. She mentioned that she heard you crying..." he paused, waiting for Hermione to say something, anything. But when nothing came, he heaved a sigh and continued. "Mrs. Weasley is afraid that now that Pansy is legally joining the family, you suddenly feel like you don't belong anymore. Said she imagined you felt....after being sort of Ron's girlfriend for so long....that you would think you weren't welcomed anymore."

Pansy. Slytherin. Pureblood. Bitch. Blaise. Friends. Wedding. Guests. People. Wedding. No appearance. Malfoy—Hermione's thoughts were going haywire.

"...That's silly of her." Hermione responded, her attention now away from the sky but instead on the fact that one particular Slytherin did not attend his friend's wedding. That he was not there to sneer and make fun of the bride when she shed happy tears.

Malfoy had not come.

She cleared her throat, trying to focus once more. "Although we never fancied hearing it, I've always known Mrs. Weasley, alike every other member of her family, has seen us as more than Ron's friends, Harry."

Harry knitted his brows together. "And the crying?"

"You've got to be strong, Harry, you know that." She mumbled, feeling a slight chill run up her spine as the swift air smacked against her fuchsia dress. "You've got to let go of that insecurity, that humbleness that you so desperately cling onto. Feel a part of them, Harry, because you have always been one of them. There won't be another outcast to talk to from now on, so just go with it."

The Chosen One felt his heart sink to the pit of his chest as his best friend—his sister— turned a watery gaze at him. The bright colors of the sky illuminating her broken expression more than he ever was used to seeing upon her pale face. "...What's that suppose to mean, 'Mione?"

Silence for a few seconds; the wind pushing past them to go join the celebration they left yards away.

"...Don't worry, Harry," a heavy pressure scraped all of Hermione's insides; jabbing at her organs, making its way painfully up her chest and throat, "you won't remember a thing...You'll never know that there used to...that there used to be a bossy little know-it-all holding on to your arm wherever you went...You'll n-never remember that I was there."

"Hermione—"

Hermione shook her head, "it's time, Harry." Tears pooled into her eyes, but she was so used to them now that she didn't feel them slowly trace down her cheeks. "I got the meeting at the Ministry three days ago. Kingsley scheduled it for today, just like I asked. I just...I wanted to be able to s-see both of my best friends get married...although I'll never register it after this...I just wanted to see you two be happy."

"You can't!" Harry hissed, looking very appalled at the girl in front of him. "Hermione, you can't go! You're mental! Mental! Do you even know what you're saying?"

"...I actually do."

Feeling a bolt of anger flash into his head, Harry frowned deeper than he had ever had at Hermione. (He didn't remember ever having the feeling strong and dire need to strike her. Not even when she practically handed his Firebolt to McGonagall his Third Year.) "Don't, alright." He snapped at her. "You're making a huge mistake, Hermione. Malfoy...Draco...he loves you! I know that he does. You've got to believe me! If you would just—"