More Than the Sum

More than the Sum

Urgh . . . if I could find him and could lift my wand, hell, if I could open my eyes, I'd cast the cruciatus on Old Ogden for thinking up his Firewhiskey. Not only am I waking up hung over, but I'm waking up without Harry, since Mum insisted that we not sleep together last night, nor see each other until the ceremony tonight. 'It's bad luck," she had said. Honestly, it's not like we haven't been sharing a bedroom almost constantly since we were eleven years old. Of course, that has had quite a different meaning for the last fortnight.

Has it only been fourteen days since our first kiss and Harry's proposal? It seems a thousand times longer. The night we came to dinner, here at the Burrow, to tell Mum and Dad about our engagement was at least 800 years long. I knew it would be fine; they already love Harry like another son.

Harry, well Harry was another story. It seems that, to the Dursleys, the only thing worse than being gay is being a wizard, so Harry spent ten years of his life hearing how wrong it was, and then ten more dealing with the fact that he was both a wizard and gay. Well the wizard part turned out to be a good thing for him. Maybe that should have clued him in that his homosexuality would be all right here too. After all, anything the Dursleys were against can't be all bad. In spite of my assurances, Harry was seriously afraid of losing either me or Mum and Dad once we told them.

It was near impossible not to laugh at the look on his face when Mum's response to our grand announcement was, "Well, it's about time, tongues were beginning to wag. The two of you sharing rooms at the school . . . I'm surprised the new Headmaster hasn't had letters." I laugh again thinking about it and bleck! That was a mistake. The pain in my head doesn't have my same sense of humor.

I open my eyes and am pleasantly surprised to see Harry sitting by the side of my bed, smiling at me. "Hi," he whispers.

"Er, hi."

"I'm not here." He winks before slipping under the blankets with me and kissing me 'good morning' very thoroughly. Several long, luscious and lascivious moments later, he slips away, saying, "I really ought to go. See you later, mate." He disapparates and I am both content and highly disappointed.

When I get down to the kitchen for breakfast, I find it in a shambles. Mum is having an argument with the caterer over the hors d'oeuvres and Fred and George are playing piggy in the middle with Ginny's bra, causing her to do a great deal of threatening to hex them. Her threats aren't working, as the twins know Mum would have Ginny's head if she did anything destructive to them today. After a minute, they notice me standing in the doorway and Ginny's underclothing loses its attraction, ending up landing in the delicately iced wedding cake sitting on the countertop. I can't possibly describe the shocked and horrified look on Chef Frufru Pants' face at that turn of events.

"Bugger," Fred quietly exclaims as the caterer makes a hasty and very loud exit. It's a good thing Mum isn't that familiar with French, because something tells me Chef Frufru Pants should have begged for a pardon of his. During his rant, he has packed up his cooking implements and disapparated with a loud BANG! The silence that follows is only broken by the nervous twitters of Ginny's inappropriate laughter.

Every bit of contentment that Harry's surprise snog had bestowed on me has vanished along with the caterer. Mum is standing in the center of the kitchen, eyes closed, counting to keep her temper (I guess for my benefit). "Ginny dear, go see to the cake. George, floo to Diagon Alley and buy me everything on this list." A long scroll of parchment appears in her hand as she waves her wand. "And Fred," she's gritting her teeth, "go to the closet in the foyer and see that the new dress robes are in order." Out of shock, no one moves. "NOW!" Mum growls and the room empties immediately.

She guides me to the kitchen table. "Good morning Ron, darling. How did you sleep?"

"Er . . . fine, thanks Mum."

"Oh, you must be famished. Let me get you a proper breakfast." She starts bustling about, getting me the largest meal she has ever served me. My stomach is a bit dicky from the hang over as well as my nerves, but I eat as much as I can. Mum seems to need to pamper me and I'm just glad I wasn't on the receiving end of her wrath.

After breakfast, I need a walk to help digest or maybe to get sick somewhere where I won't insult Mum (I'm not quite sure which). As I walk through the front garden towards the road, I see Dad, charming the flowering hedgerows, which are dry and barren with the December weather, into bloom. He spots me and hurries over.

"Ron, there you are. How are you fairing?"

"All right, Dad."

"Odd, you look a bit green. Anything you need?"

"No, thanks." I walk on. Then I turn round and step up behind him to ask, "Dad . . ." He jumps at the sound of my voice, causing the forsythia he is charming to bloom, wither and die, all in the span of thirty seconds.

"Ronald, you scared the dickens out of me."

"Sorry, Dad."

"You decide you needed something after all?"

"Well, I . . . I just have a question."

"Yes," he prompts.

"How did you know it was the right time to marry Mum? And how were you sure it was the right thing to do? Oh and how did you manage not to vomit while promising every bit of yourself to another person in front of everyone you knew and loved?" it all comes spilling out of me.

"Just a wee bit of nerves, eh Ron?"

"You can't imagine."

"Oh, of course I can, every groom feels like that at some point. Don't worry, you'll do fine."

"How can you be sure?"

"Ron, my boy, do you love him?"

"Yes."

"Everything all right in the er . . . in the bedroom?"

"Dad! Yes, fine, smashing."

"Good, er . . . yes. Then, as long as you trust in each other, tell each other the truth and try to always act out of love, you should be fine."

"That's really all there is to it? It's that easy?"

"Cor blimey! Who said it was easy? It's hard work, but it is worth every bit of labor."

I spend the rest of the morning in the kitchen, helping Mum with the emergency menu. It is actually quite satisfying to know I had a hand in the real work for my wedding. It makes it more mine, I reckon. However, I do feel a little bit girly making food for Harry, like a little wife. Guess I should get used to that, I'm the closest thing to a little wife Harry's ever going to have. It's all right, Harry will have to have his share of acting the little wife too. I stop that line of thought before I wander off into a transvestite fantasy, while standing next to my unsuspecting mother.

After lunch, I head for the greatly expanded living room to help Bill and Charlie with the setting up of the chairs and the final touches on the decorations. I'm mentally kicking myself for suggesting that this be an evening wedding and giving myself all bloody day to agonize over the ceremony. I'm passing the foyer closet when the door opens and someone snatches me inside. Before I have a thought to defend myself, Harry's very familiar form is pressing me up against the closet's interior wall, the cloaks and jerseys cocooning around us.

He kisses me as if I'm made of air or chocolate or some other thing he can't live without and I return the favor. We haven't done this a lot, snogging without expectation of it going further. We've always had the advantage of being alone and only one room, at most, away from our bed, when we start anything. It's different knowing we'll have to stop, even more different having to try to remain quiet, lest someone walking through the foyer hear us and open the door to investigate.

As if my thoughts commanded it to, the door swings open revealing us and as it is rather obvious what we were just doing, Mum exclaims, "Ronald Weasley! I cannot believe you lured Harry here! It is bad luck for the two of you to see each other, but no! You boys and your hormones had to get a leg up anyway!"

"Mum!" I can't believe she just said 'get a leg up'.

"Out! Now. And you, Harry, Remus is in the floo looking for you. Worried sick, he is. And he was afraid you were having second thoughts." She drags us out of the closet. Luckily, the twins aren't around to make the obvious joke. "Go and tell him you're all right," she orders Harry. "Ron, did you see your new dress robes in there?"

"Er, no . . . I wasn't really looking for them." She rolls her eyes and plunges into the closet to check.

I go to the kitchen to find Harry and Mum is right behind me, bellowing for Fred to come explain himself. Fred arrives and Mum shoves an extremely large, bright pink set of robes in his face and asks, "What, pray tell, are these?"

"Dress robes for," he ventures.

"These are what you brought back from Malkin's for Ron? You expect your brother to get married in an overlarge fuchsia tent?"

"I'm sorry, Mum, I didn't look in the parcel. I just took what Madam Malkin said was the right order." I'm horrified. It's the Yule Ball all over again, only worse. I am so livid, I cannot even think what to say, so I just grunt as I walk passed Fred and out into the garden. I can feel Harry following me.

"All right, Ron?" Harry is the last person I should snap at today, but that doesn't matter to my mouth, which acts on its own.

"No! I'm not bloody all right! I'm still hung over, the pepper-up potion has done nothing to help that. The caterer quit, so Mum, who should just be enjoying this day, is cooking a feast for eighty people. Harry, how can we have eighty people invited to our 'intimate, family and close friends only' wedding? And, the twins put a bra in our wedding cake. Can you see old Arabella Figg choking on a bra clasp? And my robes! Harry did you see? I'd be better off getting married naked!"

"You really think I'd mind that?" Harry chuckles.

"Harry, I'm serious, everything is falling apart. Ours is going to be known as the-wedding-that-shall- not-be-named!" I complain.

"Ron."

"What?" I snap.

"Whose wedding is this again?"

"Harry . . ."

"Who's?"

"Ours," I admit.

"Say it with a bit of enthusiasm, Ron."

"It's our wedding," I smile.

"Too right it is! So what matters? The cake? Some bleeding set of dress robes? Your Mum's wedding superstitions? Or that you and I enjoy the most important day of our lives?"

"Okay, you're right, Harry. It's us, we matter, and the rest is just extras."

"Now, you've got it. Let it all go, Ron. As long as we end the day together and married, nothing else matters, so enjoy what you can and let Mum worry over the details." It seems a bit silly, but what he said is making a great difference in how I feel about it all.

In the end, everything fell into place within a reasonable proximity of on time and now, at 5:30 p.m. I'm coming down from my room in my new, well tailored, navy blue robes. I spot Ginny, who tells me Mum is finished in the kitchen and still has plenty of time to get herself ready. The cake is repaired and all the other details that cropped up over the course of the day have been seen to as well. Ginny has a rather sheepish grin on her face as she asks me to come greet her date.

"Now, remember, we were all on the same side by the end of things," she says, rather ominously. Then she leads me through the crowd of mingling guests to a seat where Draco Malfoy sits, looking aloof and nervous at the same time. Trying to remember what Harry said about letting the details go, I offer the ferret my hand.

"Happy Christmas, Malfoy, nice of you to come." He stifles a laugh.

"Nice, try Weasley. I almost thought you meant it. Don't worry, I'm not here to make trouble, though that would certainly be amusing. I only came because she begged me." He gestures at Ginny. "I find it hard to say no to a beautiful woman. You know what I mean? Oh wait, I guess you don't, do you?"

"You know, Malfoy, Harry tells me that homophobia is primarily a Muggle trait." Malfoy blanches, but is spared from having to respond by the arrival of Oliver Wood and his companion, my brother Percy. Mum must have spotted him from across the room, as she is rushing over to pull him to her in a great, crushing hug.

"Never thought I'd see the day he'd be back," Ginny mutters to me.

"Nearly as shocking as seeing a Malfoy at the Burrow," I counter. We walk over to follow Mum's example with the prodigal son. Percy is red and flustered. I reckon he expected things to be all curses and accusations and maybe it would have been if Mum had not gathered us together months ago and asked us to reach out to Percy. Her reasoning was that we had all lost enough people. We should not add to our own pain by not taking him back into our lives should the opportunity ever arise.

"Mum, Dad, I'm sorry." Dad had found his way over as well. "I made all the wrong choices and I was ashamed to admit those mistakes. If I'd done things differently . . ."

"Hush Percy," Mum interrupts. "We don't need to hear apologies; we just need to know that you're back with us for good, that you're part of us again." She is crying and holding him tightly again. Doesn't matter that Percy is an insufferable git, as long as he's our insufferable git. Speaking of gits, I look to Malfoy again, holding Ginny's hand. He feels me looking and turns my way, saying, "Don't expect tearful apologies out of me, I did the right thing when push came to shove. I even chose you lot over my own father, I've got nothing to be forgiven for. I'm just here in hopes of rogering your dishy little sister, Weasley." Ginny laughs. I bite my tongue.

Soon enough the clock is striking six and I find my place at the front of the room, my father standing near. Bill, Charlie, Percy and Mum walk in, while Mozart, the Muggle composer Dad loves so much, plays. Then Ginny, my groomsmaid and Luna Harry's groomsmaid come in and stand on either side of me. The twins, our groomsmen, come next and wedge themselves in next to the girls. The music changes, Harry and Remus process in, Harry looking like . . . forever and smiling as if he has a delicious secret.

The ceremony skips along. I know everything is said, but my nerves keep making me lose track. Suddenly Harry and I are holding hands as Dad wraps a cloth around them, binding us symbolically. Then he taps our hands with his wand and binds us magically and we are speaking our vows.

"Harry James Potter, my friend, my love, my forever, I, Ronald Alvin Weasley, promise myself to you and you alone, spirit, mind and body for the rest of my life."

"Ronald Alvin Weasley, my friend, my love, my forever, I, Harry James Potter, promise myself to you and you alone, spirit, mind and body for the rest of my life."

Now Dad takes the cloth off our hands and we exchange rings.

"Harry, take this ring, a circle unbroken, to symbolize the eternal and unbreakable love I have for you."

"Ronald, take this ring, a circle unbroken, to symbolize the eternal and unbreakable love I have for you."

"Now, by the authority of the Ministry of Magic, I pronounce you married! Welcome to the family Harry." There is a long pregnant pause. "Oh dear, kiss already!" Everyone laughs and Harry swoops in to claim my mouth, my spirit, my mind and my body. The twins' newest invention, rainbow, tickling confetti rains down on us in celebration.

Like the ceremony, the dinner after glides by, filled with warm greetings and congratulations from our guest. Soon Dad is standing up, raising him glass and clearing his throat for a toast. "Well Ron, Harry, I think . . . No, I'm certain that we would be quite remiss if we let this most important day pass without taking a moment to reflect and thank all those who made sacrifices to enable peaceful and joyous days like this one to return to our world. So, please raise your glasses in salute to those we most reluctantly left behind in our struggle, Cedric Diggory, Sirius Black, Cornelius Fudge, Neville Long Bottom, Mundungus Fletcher, our dear, dear Hermione Granger and Albus Dumbledore. May they rest in peace and may we never fail to appreciate the things they died to protect."

After everyone drinks and a few moments pass while we all talk about those we lost, Remus stands up for his own toast. "As most of you know, I am acquainted with loss, as are all of you. I've learned that the fairer aspects of life are, unfortunately, just as subject to ending as the darker ones are. Harry, Ron, You have lived much of your lives as warriors and just as you have endured and struggled against the dark, you now must embrace and cling to the light. Today, I see you doing just that, and it lifts me up. I implore you; do not let it end with today. Make every day a day to embrace and fight for your happiness. Certainly, joy comes to you, but there is more if it to be had if you seek it out. Seek it out and you'll find it in the least likely places. Dig for it like a niffler after gold. And once you've found it, guard it like a treasure, most valuable. For love and joy are just that, precious and priceless, no matter where they are found or what their sources." He raises his glass. "To Harry and Ron, may you have love everlasting."

I look over at Harry and he does that thing again, where he looks like forever. Actually, he always looks like forever, only I forget to notice it most of the time. I vow to myself to try to see that more often, to look for it and hold onto it, just as Lupin said. I think if we try hard enough, Harry and I will.