As Ginny flitted through her flat on the morning of December the 8^th, she thought about her visit to her brother's office the day before.

* * *

She hadn't seen Ron (or any of her other brothers) in over a month, and when she had turned up at his M.L.E.S. office, it had felt like a mini-homecoming. He'd given her a huge hug and then said, "So, what took you so long to come and visit me, eh?"

Ginny felt as though she'd been plopped right back into her ten-year-old self, as though no time had passed at all.

"I've been busy," she said, flopping back into a chair and kicking off her high heels, perching her feet on the edge of his desk. "Bloody hell, those heels hurt."

"Why do you wear-" Ron cut himself off, "No, never mind, I don't want to know. What have you been so busy with that you've been back for three days and yet haven't come to visit your favorite brother?"

"But I went to see Percy the minute I got in," Ginny said, teasing. "What do you think I've been so busy with? Ha-"

"I don't want to know," Ron repeated.

"Good decision." Said Ginny, laughing.

"I think I'll kill Harry," Ron muttered under his breath.

"Bad decision." Ginny laughed again.

There was a knock on the door. Ron called out, "Yes?"

It was opened by a young man, about nineteen years old. He came through the door and stood back a bit, talking to Ron, but his eyes never left Ginny.

"It's rumored the suspect is the head of the neo-Death Eater faction in Britain. He was tracked to Kent, but the local M.L.E.S. agents lost him. There haven't been any further developments in tracing him. " As he said all this, his eyes were trained on Ginny's bare feet, resting next to a stack of reports on Ron's desk. Her toenails were coated in a vibrant red nail-polish.

"Um, I’m probably never going to see you again, so um-" he stammered a bit, "Can I just say that you have really sexy feet?"

He didn't hang around for an answer, but rather, slipped through the door as fast as he could, which was just as well because Ron was half way out of his seat, his wand outstretched.

"Thanks!" Ginny called after the messenger as her brother glowered at the half-open door.

Ginny laughed again (she seemed to be doing an awful lot of that lately). "Oh come on Ron. He wasn't even twenty - and I'm a big girl. If I had a problem with teenage boys telling me I have sexy feet, I'd damn well tell them."

Ron glared at her, and Ginny gave him a look, but then her gaze softened.

"Ron, I'm twenty-four years old. I can take care of myself, but it means a lot to me that you want to do it for me."

Ron relented and stopped glaring.

"I know that, Gin, but it makes me nuts enough to think about you with Harry let alone sit by while hormonal teenage idiots try to hit on your… feet."

Ginny giggled.

"He's going to be doing paperwork for the rest of his training." Ron muttered mutinously. Ginny laughed again.

* * *

As she stood in front of her mirror wearing a slip, she smiled at the memory. Quickly she plucked her dress out of her wardrobe and slid it over her head, then twirled in front of the mirror, the skirt fanning out a bit down by her knees.

She took out her wand and aimed it at her hair, letting it curl gently below her shoulders and, clasped pieces on both sides with a pearl encrusted clip. She fixed on a pair of pearl earrings and put a strand of fresh-water pearls around her neck. Then she stepped back and examined the effect.

"Beautiful," came a voice from the doorway. Ginny whirled around and saw Harry leaning up against the doorjamb in his tuxedo, watching her.

"Harry!" she exclaimed. "How long have you been there?"

"Not long," he chuckled, walking over and wrapping his arms around her waist. Ginny wriggled free from his grasp, turned back to her mirror and applied a bit of lipstick and blush. She took her wrap and draped it around her shoulders.

"How do I look?" she said, as she turned to face him.

"Magnificent. You're going to upstage the bride," Harry said, holding her at arm's length. He was rewarded by a blinding grin and a quick kiss.

"C'mon, let's hit the road, How are we getting there?" She asked, pulling him towards the door.

"By car," Harry replied as they walked out of the loft and down three flights of stairs.

"You don't have a car." Ginny reminded him as he held open the door to the cobbled street for her.
"Says who?" asked Harry, leading her through the street to the Leaky Cauldron. They emerged into Muggle London and in front of the Leaky Cauldron, in a parking space Ginny was quite sure she'd never seen before, was a tiny car. Well, not tiny, but quite small. It was a vintage Austin Healey, a pale, shimmery blue color.

"Wherever did that come from?" Ginny exclaimed, looking at the car in surprise.

"Borrowed it from a friend. There's a guy at work who collects Muggle cars and refurbishes them. Your dad would love him."

"I'll bet." Ginny smiled to herself and climbed into the car on the passenger side, narrowly missing being hit by a passing cyclist.

She didn't seem to notice, and as Harry pulled out into the London traffic, Ginny began to tell him about her visit to Ron's the night before. "Did I tell you someone told me I had sexy feet, yesterday?"

Without taking his eyes off the road, Harry replied, "No, but I knew that already. Who on earth told you you had sexy feet?"

After Ginny had explained, Harry suppressed a grin.

"You can't blame Ron for reacting the way he did. After all, I probably would have done the same thing."

"Men," Ginny muttered under her breath, but loud enough so that Harry heard her.

"Yup. That's us," He laughed.

They spent the rest of the ride to the church chatting about nothing in particular and lapsing into comfortable silences now and again, born of their ease of being with each other. When they finally arrived at a moderately sized church Ginny was quite excited about meeting Dudley. She had heard more about him than she could possibly remember, but, while she'd met Petunia and Vernon at King's Cross ("met" in the widest sense possible - as in, "exchanged glares with). Dudley had never, unsurprisingly, come anywhere near Harry's school friends if at all possible. Of course, in the Weasley household, the tale of Dudley and the ton-tongue toffee was practically legendary, and Ginny had trouble envisioning Harry's cousin without a four-foot long tongue. Shaking this unpleasant image from her head, she slipped her arm through Harry's as they mounted the steps, and walked into the church.

Inside, they found Mundungus Fletcher pacing in the vestry, looking much paler than his ordinarily ruddy complexion. Upon seeing them enter, he hurried over and greeted them.

"Potter! You made it! That's two more for our side," he seemed to have a mental register. He shook Harry's hand and then turned to Ginny.

"Miss Weasley, it's great of you to come," he took her hand as well, and Ginny noticed his was quite clammy.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world, Mr. Fletcher," she smiled, in what she hoped was a soothing manner - he looked as though he needed it.

"Well, Gin, shall we go and get seats?" Harry suggested. But before Ginny could open her mouth…

"What's that?" Mundungus Fletcher turned back to Harry. "Oh yes. You go ahead, I'll stay here," He looked thoroughly distracted, and Ginny noticed that Mad-Eye Moody had walked into the other end of the vestry dressed in pin-stripe trousers, a rather beat-up old sweatshirt, and a polka-dotted bow tie. Harry shot Ginny a grin as Mundungus hurried over to him.

They walked into the sanctuary, and Ginny's first impression was to take a large step back - she felt as though she was being bombarded: with flowers, bows, and frills. The church itself was clean and simple, nice in general. However, once Amelia and Dudley had got hold of it…

The altar was adorned with pink carnations and purple hyacinths, intermingled with baby's breath, white daisies, daffodils, and even the occasional orange-ish surprise lily. The artist in Ginny wanted to throttle the florist who had produced this… this… she couldn't quite think up a word to fit. The vases that the vibrant bouquets filled were all linked by frilly pink ribbons and bows. Ginny forcibly drew her eyes away from the altar, because just looking at it gave her a headache. They landed on something far worse, however: the groom.

Dudley was standing anxiously at the end of the aisle shifting his massive weight from foot to foot. Clad in a black tuxedo with a cummerbund that was roughly the length of the aisle that led up to him, Dudley seemed to have been squeezed into the suit with reinforced buttons. He was much more horrible than Ginny had imagined.

Harry, who had noticed her look at his cousin, and seen her jaw laughed softly.

"That's Dudley, all right. He hasn't changed a bit. Well, maybe he lost a bit of weight for the wedding." Ginny gaped at him, disbelieving, as an usher in a gray pin-strip suit hurried over to them.

"Bride or groom?" he asked in a squeaky voice.

"Bride." Harry replied, and then whispered to Ginny, "I don't want the Dursleys to see me before the reception. And besides, we're here for moral support."

They followed the usher about two-thirds of the way down the side aisle and he seated them in a pew behind an older man. Harry and Ginny sat down and began to speak in hushed tones again.

"See over there in the first pew?" Harry pointed unobtrusively.

"Mmm-hmm." Ginny bobbed her head.

"That's Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon."

Ginny followed his gaze to a bony blonde woman, who was dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief and sniffling noisily. She was seated next to a beefy man who looked like a slightly (but not much) smaller replica of his son, with a bushy mustache. Petunia Dursley looked like she was on the verge of tears and Vernon had a sort of furious pride on his florid face - at least Ginny thought it was pride. It might have just been that his bulk didn't quite fit into the pew and he seemed rather… stuck.

Ginny raised her eyebrows at Harry and they both stifled laughs. The man in front of them turned around at the noise and Ginny was in the middle of apologizing when he smiled at her from behind a pair of spectacles.

"Do not trouble yourself over it, Miss Weasley." Albus Dumbledore said, his blue eyes twinkling.

"Professor!" Harry gaped at him.

"Good afternoon, Harry. It's wonderful to see you both."

"You too, Professor." Ginny said, still staring slightly. "It's been too long."

"Er, if I could, sir, what happened to your hair and beard?" Harry asked, tentatively.

The ordinarily lengthy hair was cropped short in a traditional style and the tip of the beard was a respectable five inches from his chin.

"They are, er, magically hidden for the day, as I thought I might blend in better this way," he was wearing an old-fashioned three-piece suit with a red bow tie. Harry supposed he hadn't been able to resist.

"You look very authentic, sir." Harry said, smiling. "I'm sure you'll fit in."

"Thank you, Harry." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled at the compliment. "And you both look marvelous, may I say. Ginny, I think you do an even better job on muggle gowns than on robes!" he gazed at the navy blue dress, appreciatively.

"Thank you sir, but this particular creation is my assistant Martin's. He's muggle born, and obviously has quite a flare for fashion."

"Indeed."

"The ceremony's starting." Harry broke into their little chat and gestured towards the organ where a woman was beginning to play the wedding march.

Everyone in the church stood and turned towards the back. First came a small girl, with chestnut curls, in a frilly pink dress who was scattering petals on the aisle, but it seemed she was a tad too enthusiastic because every once in awhile she'd get carried away and fling a handful into the pews. People who were sitting close to the aisle were picking the petals out of their ornate hats and hair-dos.

Then came Amelia Fletcher.

She was wearing a large white something that stretched tightly across her bosom and had voluminous puffy sleeves. The skirt was obviously held up (and out) by numerous petticoats, or perhaps a very strong freezing charm. It was the same iridescent white fabric as the bodice, but was covered in a lacey over-skirt. Amy's blonde curls were piled high on her head, atop which perched rather precariously, was a small crown.

They certainly weren't worried about being too gaudy, Ginny noted.

The bride was followed by two women in bridesmaids' dresses of the brightest turquoise, liberally adorned in beads and ruffles. One was very tall, with curly black hair, bony knees and a beaky nose, the other was short and plump, not unlike Amelia herself, with mousy brown hair, chubby cheeks, and exceptionally small ears. They made an interesting pair.

As the group drew level with the altar, the organist stopped playing and the congregation took their seats. Even from the distance at which they sat, Ginny could see the adoration in Dudley's piggy eyes when he looked at Amy. It was almost sweet. Almost.

* * *

Harry watched Amelia Fletcher walk down the aisle and wondered about the woman who had agreed to marry his cousin. He knew she was a squib, but beyond that, not much. What was she like? Did she know about Dudley's connection to her world? Did Dudley know about hers? And beyond all, what on earth had she been thinking when she said "Yes"?

Amy reached the altar on the arm of her father, and when the vicar asked, "Who gives this woman to be wed…?" Godfrey Fletcher replied, though it was visibly causing him some internal struggle, "Her mother and I do."

He then took his seat next to Miranda Fletcher, who was dabbing at her eyes with a hankie, though much more delicately than Petunia had done.

Harry supposed he would cry too if his child were marrying a Dudley.

The wedding continued without incident; even the part where the assembled company was told, "If anyone can show just cause why these two people should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your piece."

Harry noticed Mundungus Fletcher bouncing slightly, up in one of the front pews, as though it were physically paining him not to speak up. His wife put a hand on his shoulder, though, and with a tremendous sigh, he slumped back against the pew and the ceremony continued.

The exchange of vows came soon after, and as everyone watched, Dudley and Amelia professed to love one another unconditionally. Harry had always thought this was one of the most romantic parts of the wedding ceremony, but it seemed to lose something when Dudley was one of the people participating.

Then came the rings. From his seat, Harry could see Dudley's ring as Amy slid it onto his chubby finger. It was roughly the size of the top of a soda-can.

Last, of course, was the kiss. Harry looked over at Ginny as Amy wrapped her arms around Dudley's neck (which was the size of a small tree trunk) and kissed him noisily. Ginny wrinkled her nose and made a face. Harry suppressed a snicker.

Dudley and Amy headed down the aisle and to the street outside amidst a hail of rice. The crowd outside left them a very wide berth and they climbed into the waiting car. Amy went first and was followed by Dudley, who got stuck in the doorway. Harry noticed that more than one spectator in the crowd drew out their wands, himself included, and muttered "Reducto" under their breath. Dudley slid into the car and out of sight. After the happy couple had pulled away, the assembled crowd headed to their respective vehicles. As Harry and Ginny were heading back to the car park, someone tapped Harry on his shoulder. He turned around to see Albus Dumbledore once more in front of him.

"Hello, Professor." Harry smiled.

"Hello again, Harry. And Ginny," he added, "I take it you are going to the reception?"

"Yes, we are. Do you need a ride?" Ginny jumped in, anticipating the question.

"Indeed I do, if it wouldn't be too much of an imposition. You see, I came by bicycle, but Mundungus suggested to me that perhaps that would not be the best way to arrive at the reception. He seems to think I might get dirt on my suit." He gestured downward at the three-piece garment.

"Of course you can ride with us, Professor." Harry readily agreed. "Where is your bicycle?"

Dumbledore reached into his waistcoat pocket and drew out a tiny model of an old-fashioned bike, complete with a little brass horn and basket.

"I shrank it to ease its transportation," he explained and Harry and Ginny laughed.

The three wizards piled into the Austin Healey and Harry pulled out onto the street. The ride to the hall where the reception was being held was short, and not wholly unpleasant. Ginny and Professor Dumbledore kept up a running chat on Hogwarts and her design company, Harry throwing in a comment here and there.

"So, the school is doing well?"

"Indeed!" Dumbledore answered enthusiastically. "There is a lovely group of students this year. Andrea Weasley is doing particularly well in her second year, making Professor Snape pull his hair out, of course, but that's only natural.

The staff are doing nicely, too. The newer members seem to be fitting in quite well, and the students appreciate the younger teachers, I know."

"That's right! How is Neville doing as Herbology Professor?" Harry piped up.

"Very well, I must say. Professor Sprout was more than happy to retire when she saw in whose hands her precious plants would be left."

"That's great." Ginny said, a smile tugging at her lips. The idea of Neville in charge of a classroom full of students made her want to grin.

Harry pulled into a car park outside the Little Whinging Banquet Hall as the ornate sign read, and the three climbed out. They headed up to the door, which Harry pulled open, standing back to let Ginny and Dumbledore pass.

"Oh my." Ginny said, quietly, as she shrugged the wrap off her shoulders and handed it to the clerk in the cloakroom. Harry and Dumbledore did the same with their jackets, and then moved over to the entrance to the hall, where Ginny stood.

What exactly merited an "Oh my" became evident immediately. In the center of the hall stood a massive ice-sculpture of Dudley and Amelia.

On either side of the gigantic hunk of ice were two long buffet tables, laden with food. However, it seemed that the aisle for people to walk along was supposed to go between the sculpture itself and each table. This would have been a brilliant plan, had Dudley's ice-bulk not proved so large that it blocked both aisles. The waiters seemed to be attempting to rectify this with numerous hair-dryers. They were melting Dudley.

Ginny and Harry both held their breath, in an obvious and futile attempt to keep from laughing.

Dumbledore surveyed the scene, with a twinkle in his eyes. He shook his head and raised an eyebrow. "I think I'll go and say hello to Mundungus, he looks in need of company."

Harry followed his gaze over to the bar, where Mundungus Fletcher was slumped on a stool, morosely watching the waiters vainly attempt to 'shrink' his grandson-in-law's likeness. He downed whatever had been in his glass - neat whiskey, probably - in one gulp and Harry couldn't blame him.

"Shall we?" Ginny asked, smiling up at him.

"Let's go." Harry linked his arm through hers and they headed into the bustling room.

The first familiar person Harry spotted was Piers Polkiss, Dudley's long-time best friend from school. He was near the ice sculpture, chatting up the bridesmaid with the dark hair and beaky nose.

Harry purposely steered Ginny in the opposite direction - right into Jenna Gotheld.

"Harry! Ginny! I knew I'd be seeing you here!" She beamed at them. "You look fabulous!" she said to Ginny, eyeing the silk gown. Jenna herself didn't look half-bad in a tailored gray shantung suit with a cropped jacket and paisley scarf. It matched her eyes perfectly.

"You look lovely, too." Ginny smiled at her, and Harry nodded.

"You really do, Jen. Where's Chad?" He asked, craning his neck for a sight of the tanned and weathered South African who was Jenna's boyfriend.

"Oh, he went off to get our drinks, I think." She said, waving a hand, casually. They continued to chat for another minute, until Jenna was whisked away by Eloise Midgeon, and Percy and Penelope came over to Harry and Ginny.

Percy, looking very convincing in a muggle tuxedo, and Penny, looking radiant in a pale yellow cocktail dress, topped by a knee length matching jacket seemed to be enjoying their day off from parenting their four children.

However, when Ginny brought up the tots, Percy seemed even more proud, if possible.

"Oh Noah's doing wonderfully!" he gushed. "Yesterday he threw a handful of mushy peas at Devon and hit him right in the eye - I think he's destined to be a chaser."

Penny rolled her eyes heavenward as Harry and Ginny both suppressed laughs.

"This coming from the man who didn't have to clean Devon up!" she said.

Everyone laughed.

Soon they all took their seats and waiters began to come to the tables. Apparently they had given up on melting enough of Dudley to clear a path to the food. There had been a not-wholly-unfounded fear of flooding.

Ginny looked up as a young, pimply man waited anxiously at her elbow, before realizing that she didn't have a menu.

"Oh!" he said anxiously. "Would you like the Roast beef with boiled potatoes, and mixed veg? Or the fish and chips?"

Ginny exchanged a bemused look with Harry as they said in unison, "Roast beef, please."

Fish and chips at a wedding? Only at Dudley's!

After the waiter had taken everybody else's orders and hurried off to collect their food, Ginny looked around at the assembled company and smiled. She knew most of them, at least as acquaintances. On her left sat Harry, and on his left, in turn, were Percy and Penny. Penny was seated next to an elderly witch with wispy gray hair, whom Ginny recognized as Arabella Figg. On Mrs. Figg's other side was a middle-aged couple who introduced themselves as Amelia's godparents; Bertie and Betty Bott, heirs to the 'Every Flavor Bean' fortune.

A girl who looked only about eighteen or nineteen occupied the last seat, between Harry and Betty. She had long white-blond hair and reminded Ginny so forcibly of seventeen-year-old Fleur Delacour it was uncanny. The girl kept smiling shyly at Harry, who looked quite perplexed, as though he had seen her somewhere before, but couldn't place her. Percy and Penelope obviously knew the girl from the way Penny kept smiling gently at her, and Percy kept smiling stupidly across the table.

"Everyone," he said, pompously, addressing the table, "Allow me to introduce Gabrielle Delacour, our new Assistant Minister for the Council on the Dark Arts." The girl blushed furiously, and a look of comprehension dawned on both Ginny and Harry's faces - the little girl from the second task!

Ginny gaped at her brother - she was practically a child, what was he thinking?

Percy seemed to read the look on Ginny's face and elaborated, "Though Miss Delacour is quite young, just twenty, she has shown incredible aptitude in Defense Against the Dark Arts. There is quite a family history of it; her older sister, Fleur, is the Defense Professor at their alma mater, the prestigious Beauxbatons Academy. Miss Delacour graduated with honors and went on to become a trained auror in the French system, but decided her work would be better used here." At this point Penny laid a hand on Percy's arm to quiet him. Gabrielle was trying to speak.

"I zought zat I would be more use-e-ful here, becauze I am more able in ze strategy zan in ze field." She said in heavily accented English. "In my work in France I deed well, but not so well as I 'ope to do 'ere." The assembled company was nodding, appreciatively, and Percy was positively beaming. Penny smiled warmly and said, "Gabrielle has been staying with us until she can find a flat near the Ministry. She doesn't have a British Apparition license yet. Mundungus Fletcher has been looking around. Of course, since he is the Minister for the Council on the Dark Arts, Gabrielle will be working directly under him and he was kind enough to have her to the wedding so she could meet some other important wizards."

"Meester Fletcher 'as been most kind in fitting me into his beezy schedule." Gabrielle agreed.

At that moment someone at the head table stood up, and raised his glass, tapping it with a spoon. It was Piers Polkiss, and Harry realized he must be the best man.

"A toast!" Piers called out, in the same noxious voice Harry remembered from his childhood (puberty hadn't done much for Piers), "To the bride and groom," The room quieted. "Dudley, I've known you for as long as I can remember, and we've had a lot of fun over the years. When we both went to Smeltings together, I remember talking in our room at night about what kind of women we'd marry-" Harry thought it was a bit rich of them to assume anyone would agree to marry them. "and you always described someone a lot like Amelia. It's great that you found her." Dudley gave a watery smile as Amelia beamed at Piers.

"That was almost sweet, really." Ginny whispered to Harry as Piers turned turned to Amy.

"Amelia, Dudley's finally found a good woman. Take care of him, and keep him well fed."

"So much for sweet." Harry whispered.

"Try chauvinistic." Ginny murmured back.

"That's Piers." Harry suppressed a smile.

Soon their food arrived and further discussion of the toast was pre-empted by the moues of distaste on every mouth.

Only Bertie Bott had opted for the fish and chips; everyone else had ordered the beef. However, at least Bertie's dinner, unorthodox as it was, was recognizable. In a neat little basket, filled with chips (French fries - for those of you who don't know) sat four strips of fried plaice.

Ginny poked at the large grayish lump on her plate with her fork once or twice, and then gave up all pretence of trying to eat it. She moved on to the heap of rubbery vegetables, which sat next to a small, mountain of boiled potatoes and began to chew a boiled carrot.

Harry however, the true adventurer, took his knife and cut a miniscule bit of meat (if that's even what it was) off the end of his own lump. He popped it into his mouth and then began to chew, slowly at first, and then more rapidly. After about a full minute he finally swallowed.

His only comment was, " Don't try the meat." Everyone laughed.

After a fairly sparse dinner, which was quite amazing considering the size of the portions, a dance floor in the middle of the room was cleared and Dudley and Amelia stood up as lights hit the dance floor. Harry turned around, looking for a band or whoever was to be providing the music. He spotted a DJ sitting in a corner behind large amplifiers. Nearby stood Mad-Eye Moody, wearing a regular dress shirt and jacket that matched his pinstriped trousers- apparently Mundungus had insisted he lose the sweatshirt. Near Moody stood Mundungus himself, and Harry could have sworn he saw Mad-Eye wink (with his normal eye) at Fletcher. He shook his head and turned back to the floor. The music had started now, it had quite a catchy beat, and Harry found himself tapping his foot. It sounded familiar…

The song didn't seem familiar to Dudley, at all, though. He looked quite puzzled, but his new wife took his hands firmly, placed one around her waist, and pulled him into the dance, whispering something in his ear. Then the lyrics started:

Harry looked at Ginny, Ginny looked at Harry, and they both turned back to the DJ's station where the poor young man looked utterly perplexed and Ginny spotted Mad-Eye Moody giving Mundungus Fletcher a high-five.

Harry had turned back to the dance floor, and it was obvious that Dudley knew something was wrong, now, but Amelia, wouldn't let him stop dancing. She kept shooting venomous glares at the DJ but managed to keep dancing.

Vernon and Petunia Dursley on the other hand, were on the side of the dance floor in varying degrees of rage. Petunia kept mouthing soundlessly like a goldfish, as though words couldn't express her fury at whoever had ruined her Duddykin's dance, while a vein in Vernon's neck throbbed dangerously - he looked as though he might have a fit.

Harry turned to Ginny and grinned.

"Want to dance?"

Finally, at the end of the song, Vernon seemed to find his voice.

"NO!" He shouted, sounding much like a wounded water buffalo. Several people looked up, startled.

"No what?" Ginny asked, from their spot on the dance floor.

"No, he doesn't believe in magic." Harry explained, a slight smile playing on his lips. "Or doesn't want to."

She took a slight step behind Harry. In her opinion Vernon Dursley seemed quite deranged.

* * *

After the "first dance fiasco", Mad-Eye and Mundungus were kept well away from the disc jockey's station, and the rest of the dancing wasn't nearly as interesting. Harry and Ginny did a waltz, sat out a polka, and got up again for a slower song that Ginny said she liked. In the middle of the song, Percy and Penny danced their way over to them, and Percy asked politely, "Mind if I cut in?"

So Harry and Penny danced off, chatting about her four children.

"Molly loves school. She's at Miss Inglewood's Magical Preparatory School, and she comes home with all sorts of, er, interesting ideas. For instance yesterday she suggested that I try bathing Devon in frog spawn and then he might stop being so "toady". Her word, not mine. He's just started in kindergarten, and will go to Miss Inglewood's next year - the poor woman doesn't know what she's in for."

Harry chuckled. "How are Claire and Noah?"

"Just fine - it's really nice to be home with just the two of them. Or it was until Noah reached his second birthday and the terrible two's commenced. You'd think that I'd be used to them by now, but no - he always finds some way to surprise me."

Harry laughed again. "Ginny mentioned that you and the kids were going to the Burrow while Percy goes to Serbia and Croatia…?"

"Yes, next week in fact. It's been awhile since we've seen Arthur and Molly, and the kids have been asking after them - not to mention Molly. I must get an owl twice a week from her asking when we're going to bring them down for a visit. I won't deny I'm looking forward to a bit of rest, though. Cornwall sounds like absolute heaven next to helping organize the Ministry's Christmas ball. Of course, I'll have to do some work on the ball while I'm there, because it will be practically upon us by the time I get back. We're just staying for the week. How's work going for you?"

"As well as ever I guess," Harry said, "It drives me nuts most of the time, but I love it, I really do."

"No thoughts of going back to Quidditch before the Cup, eh?" Penny teased.

"Nope," Harry grinned, "Though I've heard pretty much every possible rumor about that."

"Have you seen the new Seeker?" Penny asked.

"No, but I promised Guy that I'd have a look at his style, see if I can be of any help, offer any tips."

Guy Cramden was a Chaser and captain of England's Quidditch team.

"That's good." Penny said, as the song faded out, and she headed off to find Percy.

"Thanks for the dance." Harry called after her before he turned and went back to their table, where Ginny was massaging her feet.

"Nice dance?" He asked, plopping down into the chair next to her.

"Thrilling," Ginny said, sarcastically. "You know my brother. I love him dearly, but-"

"But," Harry agreed nodding. "Penny was updating me on the kids."

"Really? How are they?"

And Harry told her everything he'd learned. When he was through, Ginny smiled.

"They're so sweet, those kids."

"Yeah, they are." Harry agreed.

Then the old Muggle song, "Blue Moon" came on, and Ginny pulled her shoes back on.

"Let's dance! I love this song," She pulled Harry out onto the dance floor where Jenna and Chad, Penny and Percy, and countless other couples were already moving in time to the music. Harry spotted Piers Polkiss dancing with the tall bony bridesmaid who he'd been chatting up earlier. Amelia was dancing with her grandfather and as Harry and Ginny danced past, Mundungus reached out and tapped Harry's arm.

"Harry! I don't think you've danced with the bride yet?"

"Er, no. I haven't," Harry admitted.

Ginny greeted Amelia cordially, if a bit coolly. "Congratulations, Amy," She said.

"Ginny! I didn't know you were coming," Amelia said, with false cheer, as Harry and Mundungus switched places.

Ginny called back, "I'm Harry's date." And both couples were swept away by the music and the crowd.

Finally, after several moments of awkward silence, Harry said, "Congratulations on your marriage Mrs. Dursley. I'm - "

"I know who you are," Amy said pointedly. "I can only assume that my grandfather invited you to torture me, somehow."

Harry thought that was a bit harsh, but he let it roll off his back. "Oh, I doubt it - he probably did it to torture my cousin, and aunt and uncle." He said, only half-joking.

"Do they know you're here?"

"Haven't seen anything blow up yet have you? Including Uncle Vernon," Harry replied mildly, but there was a new edge to his tone. He was beginning to see why exactly Dudley and Amelia had married.

She pursed her lips, but did not comment. Suddenly her blue-gray eyes grew wide.

"What?" Harry asked, still dancing.

"Dance away, dance away!" she hissed through gritted teeth. But it was too late.

Someone tapped Harry on the shoulder and he heard a familiar voice say, "Can I cut in?"

Amelia tried valiantly to step on Harry's foot to stop him turning around, but to no avail. He had already turned, and her foot landed hard on the wooden floor, snapping off the high-heel of her shoe. No one noticed, however, due to the scene unfolding before her.

Harry stood calmly surveying his cousin.

"By all means, Dudley. After all, she is your wife."

Dudley however, gaped at Harry unflatteringly.

"Y- you!" he spat out, as though he'd just eaten something nasty. (Probably the beef, Harry thought.)

"Me," Harry replied, without missing a beat.

"What are you doing here? You weren't invited!"

"Duddy? Duddy darling…" a simpering voice came from behind Harry. Amy seemed to be trying to get her husband's attention.

"I most certainly was," Harry said, ignoring Amelia.

"No. You. Weren't!" Dudley raged. "Who would invite you?"

"Dudley!" Amy cried shrilly, getting visibly upset.

Then it hit Harry. Dudley didn't know. He didn't know Amy was a squib. He didn't even know what a squib was. He thought he was marrying a perfectly normal muggle.

They were beginning to gather a crowd. The other couples on the dance floor had stopped dancing, and Harry could see them standing around in various states of poorly disguised curiosity. Out of the corner of his eye Harry saw Ginny come up to them, and felt her hand press gently on his shoulder.

Amelia had darted out of Harry's shadow and was now hanging on Dudley's shoulder, trying to drag him away from the confrontation. Of course this was futile, as Dudley was at least four times as large as she was, but she seemed quite determined, nonetheless.

Just as Ginny had popped up at Harry's side, so had Mundungus Fletcher and Mad-Eye Moody. On the other hand, Vernon and Petunia Dursley had materialized behind their son and they didn't look pleased.

The vein in Vernon's neck was going at an unbelievable pace now, and Harry thought it quite amazing that he hadn't give himself an aneurysm. Petunia was eyeing her nephew with pronounced distaste.

"Dudley -" Amelia began, but Mundungus cut her off.

"I invited him. I'm sorry, Amy, but I won't pretend to be something I'm not anymore." With that, he took out a slim stick from his coat pocket - his wand.

He waved it once and immediately his pressed tuxedo was changed into formal black dress robes.

Around the room Harry could see many wizards and witches doing the same and confused Muggles backing away from them, scared. Amy groaned, Petunia gasped saying, "She's one of them!", and Vernon, apparently his blood pressure finally getting to him, fainted. Then a look of deadly determination set on Amy's face and Harry could tell she was getting ready to do something drastic.

"Dudley - I love you. I always loved you. I hate what I am - help me escape it!" Amelia held her arms out to him, pleading. It was rather like a bad soap opera.

Dudley looked from his wife, to his cousin, to his wheezing mother, to the fallen form of his father, then back at his wife.

"You- you really love me?" He asked, and Harry suspected she might be the only girl to ever tell him that. He wouldn't be surprised.

Amy nodded, her eyes watery.

Slowly Dudley reached a pudgy arm out and took her outstretched hand. Then, stepping over Vernon, they took off running (or in Dudley's case waddling) to the entrance of the hall. Amy grabbed her dress in one hand and broke into a sprint, and Dudley, in his haste to keep up with her, hitched up the trousers to his tuxedo. Unfortunately he wasn't watching where he was going and smacked right into the four-tiered wedding cake, sending it crashing to the ground. Dudley crouched, grabbed the top tier, and hurried out the door amid peals of laughter.

* * *

When they returned to her apartment, much later that evening, Ginny was still given to occasional fits of giggles as she thought about the wedding.

"And when he knocked over the cake-" she dissolved into laughter and collapsed onto her couch.

Harry, laughing too, flopped down beside her and threw an arm around her shoulder.

"Well, like I said: that's Dudley!"