A/N: Guys you have no idea how sorry I am for the long wait!!! I've been involved in my novel, as you know---kindly look for it in bookstores someday; "Mara" is the name!!!---but even that is no excuse. I've actually had this written since February, but I was unsure of whether it was allowed to reference strippers in chapters (no worries, anyone!). So, if for any reason it was not allowed, I did ask the staff and they told me to give it a Mature rating, but allowed me to do it, so kindly do not blame me for that. =D The Mature rating is mostly for this reference...I highly doubt anything will happen in this, but just in case, you were warned!!! =D
Ahh, this is so different...I'm used to writing whatever I want in my novel!!! But, though I can't guarantee when I will update, I realized, looking at my author page today, that this story did not yet seem complete, so I felt compelled to finish it. I cannot say about "Lost and Found", since I went through a disappointing experience of losing the next chapter, but as for this one, I will try. There's something I need to say, so I will try---definitely, definitely try. ;-)
I wrote the ending in a haste today and did not truly proofread the chapter, so stay tuned for that one!!! Mostly, I really want you to enjoy. I hope this chapter is good enough for you---it's funnier than the last, so that is a good thing!!!
As predicted, the day before Harry and Hermione’s wedding is pure torture.
Of course it is. How could I think otherwise?
First of all, there’s their fluffy rehearsal, and second of all, there’s their gourmet rehearsal dinner. Gag, gag, gag, and I’m officially glad that weddings only happen once.
You want details though, don’t you?
Well, luckily, that’s why I’m here.
The actual rehearsal. So sappy and fluffy I would have started gagging if Ginny hadn’t given me a look. Great girl, my sister. Maybe it’s for the best part that she was forced to walk down the aisle with me-I’d be dead scared that if there was someone else, she’d end up suspecting my feelings, from my reluctance.
I have no idea why Harry and Hermione are having such a big wedding. Well, let me rephrase that, I do-how could they not, with famous Harry Potter? They’re forced to invite a lot of people; they don’t have a choice. Look at the press that’s here; look at all the people we hardly knew from Hogwarts. My only question is, how come Hermione had such a traditional wedding, anyway? I mean, with all the traditional muggle roles and everything. I would have thought she’d think all the traditions are somewhat silly. I know that’s how I feel.
Well, I guess everything’s different when you’re in love.
I think Ginny’s going to start nudging me again.
Well, anyway, yeah, the rehearsal was sickeningly sweet-tedious and sickeningly sweet. We had to practice walking the aisle at least a thousand times because little Jacque, Bill and Fleur’s son, wasn’t sure what to do with his ring. Luckily their daughter Adeline is a better flower girl than her brother (I don’t mean that. Jacque’s the ring bearer, not the flower girl. Of course she’s better than her brother!), so she didn’t slow us down. Little kids. If I were going to get married someday, I would have liked some, but as it goes…they’re awfully cute, but troublemakers at heart.
I have no idea why we had to go through our roles so many times! If I were Hermione’s groom, I’d have told her to stop already. “Look, Hermione, everyone’s sick of walking down the aisle already; you can give it a rest, no wedding is perfect, anyway.” She’d just look at me for a few moments, before making her usual retort. “But Ron, this is our wedding! Don’t you want to make it as perfect as we can-this is our wedding, the most special day of lives…I want to make it as perfect as it can possibly be.”
I guess that’s the problem. Hermione’s a bloody perfectionist. Wait-problem? I love her for it. I love every little detail about her, but it’s still annoying.
I’ll bet to Hermione, her wedding really is the most special day in her life. Not to mention the worst day of mine. The most special day in my life so far was…hmm. Let’s see. How about when Hermione woke up from being petrified? Or when Hermione almost asked me to Slughorn’s party? Well, as a friend but still…I’ll bet Harry’s most special day was when he defeated You-Know-Who, not when he first went out with Hermione, so HA!
Don’t look at me like that. I’m not that obsessed. Ginny’s best day ever was probably when Harry kissed her in front of practically the whole Gryffindor common room, so I’m not any more at fault than her, really. Merlin. Why do weddings have to be so perfect? It’s so boring that way. And plus, so much meaner to people like Ginny and me-a little trouble would make our day!
Excuse me while I gag again.
Okay, I’m back.
Anyway, I swear, Harry and Hermione’s rehearsal wedding was probably the most disgusting sight I’ve ever had the misfortune to witness in my life. Yes, you heard me right-and I’ve had plenty of experience with “disgusting”. Who else has thrown up slugs as a result of a broken wand and tasted more revolting Bertie Bott’s Every Flavored Beans than they can count?
And there’s still the real wedding tomorrow. If I weren’t such a good friend, I’d get sick and stay home. That’d be pretty easy to pull off, too-seeing as I get sick just at the thought of them together.
Oh, and I haven’t even told you about the rehearsal dinner yet, have I? The wonderful rehearsal dinner with everyone congratulating the happy couple. Harry’s quite put-out by all of it, I can tell. I mutter, “You did well, mate,” before going to sit down and taking as many appetizers as my plate can hold. Harry just has no idea how lucky he really is.
I have to give credit to them for picking the food. Even though a part of me wants to ignore the food because I’m just so darn unhappy this event is actually happening, I know that that’d be being a bad friend, and also, who can resist the many temptations of food? Might as well try to enjoy Harry and Hermione’s last night single, while I can.
It doesn’t take long before Ginny comes to sit next to me, putting a chocolate frog in my face. “Here you are, brother dear,” she says sarcastically, stuffing a piece of beef pastry into her mouth. As disgusting as it is to watch, I really can’t comment, because I’m sure she learned this particular bit of table manners from me.
“Enjoying yourself?” I ask, before putting the chocolate frog into my mouth. Ginny swallows, wrinkling her nose. Good, we’re even now; we’ve both revolting each other.
“Hardly,” she retorts, rolling her eyes slightly. She mimics the voice of Hermione’s mother. “’Oh, Hermione, I’m just so proud of you, darling! I always knew that you and Harry would get together one day; you were always talking about him and everything…’”
This time, it’s Ginny who looks like she’s going to be sick. “As though we don’t matter,” she huffs, just as angry about everything as I am. “Honestly! As though her mother couldn’t be any more dense…if Hermione really were in love with Harry from the start, how come she didn’t come home sobbing after he kissed me?”
She looks so triumphant for a moment that I would have laughed, if I weren’t a tiny bit jealous of her (I seem to be jealous of a lot of people these days. What’s worse-a fictional character, my sister, or my best mate?). I mean, at least she got one kiss from Harry. I’ve got-let me count-a grand total of zero kisses from Hermione! Pat me on the back for that one. I totally deserve it.
“By the way,” Ginny adds, as though reading my mind, “you can’t be jealous of me for that, because you’ve never even admitted your feelings for Hermione! If you did…”
I close my eyes as she starts to lecture me again. My little sister has mistaken herself for my mum. Fancy lecturing me about any more things, Mum?
By the way, as long as we’re on the subject of Ginny’s love life, I forgot to tell you about Harry’s bachelor party. How could I forget something as trivial as that?
It was certainly an affair, it was.
Fred and George planned it. Go figure. So, nobody was even uncomfortable at the bachelor party, because they were all afraid one of Fred and George’s pranks would backfire on them. Sigh. Seriously though, it was a frightening experience. I can’t even count all the pranks Fred and George played. Let’s see. There were all the pranks in the food we were supposed to be enjoying-all the stuff that happened when we were walking in, for Merlin’s sakes-we just couldn’t avoid them, could we?
And of course, there was the actual bachelor party.
I probably don’t have to tell you what actually happens at bachelor parties, do I? No. Well, at least I hope not. Harry’s bachelor party was typical, at least judging from the few I’ve been to, and of course the Fred and George side affects. Exactly why do people feel the need to forget about their fiancés at bachelor parties, anyway? If I was getting married, I’d never even have a bachelor party. I’d much rather stay at home with my love than staring at a stranger, anyway.
Harry laughed when I told him this. It didn’t help that Fred and George were listening as well. “Oh Ron,” Fred said, with a mock sigh, “you still have a lot to learn, little brother-a lot to learn.”
Still, I hate to admit it, but Fred and George are right! Maybe they’re not married either, but it looks like their relationships with Angelina and Katie are going pretty well, and…that’s definitely more than I can say with my relationship with Hermione. Well, duh, she’s marrying someone else. You’ve picked that much up by now, haven’t you?
It made me sick to watch Harry watching someone else. Absolutely sick. Why the hell do they hire strippers at these events? If you’re in love, why would you need someone else, anyway? Who cares how hot someone else is-who cares how sexy they look? It’s just a crazy tradition. Absolutely crazy.
I had trouble hiding how tense I felt. I was nearly shaking, I was so angry. If I were Hermione’s fiancé, I wouldn’t be doing this! Dammit, Harry, don’t you even care about her? Don’t you? Huh? Huh?
“Harry,” I hissed, hoping I wasn’t coming off too strong, “do you really think Hermione would feel good about this-isn’t she good enough for you?”
Harry sighed and looked at me. “Ron, of course she’s good enough for me-it’s hard to explain, okay? You’ll understand when you get married someday-right?”
As though that day will ever come.
Harry nudged me again, noticing how tense I still was. “Just try to enjoy yourself.”
Right. Enjoy myself. Thanks for the great advice, Harry. Just what I needed to hear-“enjoy myself”. Right.
I watched the stripper with a burning hatred. I hated her for distracting Harry, and I hated her for the pain she would put Hermione through if she found out (if she didn’t know already, that was). I hated her for how furious Ginny would be if she heard and I hated her for coming to Harry’s bachelor party, when she should have been coming to mine (wait. That’s not going to happen. I wouldn’t have a bachelor party, even if I were getting married to Hermione). I hated her for all my troubles.
By the time the stripper was done with her little act, I was officially ticked off. I mean really, really ticked off here. I even dragged Harry off to talk to him.
“Ron, I don’t understand why you’re making such a big deal out of this,” Harry said, after I dragged him away. “I mean-let’s face it, it’s a tradition, for wizards and muggles both. This isn’t even the only bachelor party you’ve been to.”
Unfortunately, he was right.
“It’s just,” I stammered, feeling like I was grasping at straws, “I know Hermione better than any other girl I’ve seen get married. She’s-she’s like my sister or something.” Sister. Right. That’s sick, that’s incest, practically. Well, fortunately, I was lying-it’s not true, since I don’t think of Hermione as a sister. Not at all.
I could feel Harry smiling in the dark room we were in. “Yeah. I’m sorry, Ron. I guess I understand better now-you two really are like brother and sister. You’ve always been as protective of her as Ginny.”
Maybe it’s for the better he is daft. I wouldn’t want Harry’s and my friendship to be risked for anything. Well, it is already risked, sort of-but Harry doesn’t know it yet, and I’m glad that’s where the story stands.
I don’t know what provoked me to ask, but suddenly, I had to know. As torturous as it would be, I wanted to make sure Harry was marrying her for the right reasons. Because if I couldn’t have Hermione, I wanted to make sure she was happy, at least, and that Harry was marrying her for the right reasons. “Harry-what do you like about her? Why did you fall in love with her, I mean?”
Harry studied me in the dark for a minute. “You’re sure I won’t be boring you, then?”
I nodded, miserably.
“Okay then. Well-there’s her smile, her charm, her wit…there are so many things I love about her, I can’t even explain them all. But it’s mostly just that, well, she’s one of the most intelligent and courageous witches I’ve ever had the fortune to meet. I can’t believe she’s with me.”
“But Harry,” I said, fumbling around for words, “you defeated him. Who else is brighter than you?”
Harry laughed slightly. “You had to remind me.”
I know Harry doesn’t appreciate just being seen as a hero, but sometimes, it’s hard not to think of him as that. Especially now that he’s marrying Hermione. I mean, he really is more than a hero-he’s a great friend, a loyal person, and cool to be with-but the bitterer I am, the more I make the comparison.
I went home shortly after Harry’s and my conversation at the bachelor party, but I still couldn’t erase it from my thoughts. You know, as much as I hate to admit it, Harry really does like Hermione for the right reasons and they get along perfectly, too. It’s just…don’t I like her for those similar reasons as well?
I begin to stare at the ceiling as Ginny continues to talk. There are times when I seriously wish I was like her and could rant and release my anger so easily. I’m just not like that. I get irritated and easily and everything seems to tick me off when I get angry. It would be so much easier to rant like she does.
And speaking of “irritation” her ranting is seriously starting to get on my nerves.
It doesn’t take long before my blood boils. And it doesn’t take long before I’m yelling at Ginny, telling her to stop it, get used to it…we’re never going to be with Harry or Hermione, ever, so we as sure as hell should get used to it.
And it isn’t long before I’m outside of the party, trying to get myself to cool down, instead of…well, up. And if that isn’t an expression, I honestly don’t care.
I just have no idea what’s waiting for me outside.
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