Hey everyone! This is my first one shot, hope you all like it! :D

I can't believe it's my wedding day.

"You're so calm," Ron commented yesterday at breakfast, shovelling eggs into his mouth. "If it was my wedding, I would be freaking out."

Ha-ha, Ron. Little does he know that I am freaking out. I am freaking out more than I ever have freaked out before. I am the most freaked out person in the history of freaking out. I –

Well, you get the picture.

I am about to be married to the most beautiful woman in the world, I think.

That doesn't help my composure at all.

It's hard to not think, What if I'm not good enough for her? What if this relationship doesn't last? It's very, very hard. Stress on the very.

There is one thing I'm grateful about though. And that is that I'm not Ron.

My dear brother Ron.

I'm sure you would be freaking out even more than I am now. On your wedding day, you will take my place as the most freaked out person in the history of freaking out. And I'm not sure anyone out there will be able to top that.


"Bill, dear?" my mother calls from outside my closed bedroom door. She's trying to hide it for my sake, but her voice is practically trembling with excitement.

"Yes, mum?" I call back, snapping out of my reverie.

"Can I come in?" she asks hesitantly.

"Yes," I grunt, trying to sound nonchalant.

The door opens slowly and Molly Weasley pokes her head in. "Hello, dear. Excited for the big day?"

I nod, afraid that if I try to speak, no words will come out.

She steps closer to me, gently touching my hair. "If you'd just let me cut it, for your wedding—"

It's so typical Mum, I can't help but laugh. "No, Mum. My hair is staying like this for the wedding. My hair is staying like this for the rest of my life because that's the way Fleur likes it. I would cut off my arm if that's the way Fleur liked me."

She smiles nervously at my little speech. "Don't you think you're being a little... extreme, Bill darling?"

I roll my eyes. "You're married; you should know what it's like."

She nods slowly. I don't think she'll ever back off when it comes to my hair, though. I can just see her, twenty years from now, popping up at my front door. "Bill, how long is your hair? Bill, will you please let me cut it?"

Sorry, Mum. Not happening.

"Everyone's up now," she ventures. "We're all setting up and getting ready for this afternoon. Just... come down when you're ready, okay?"

"Yes, Mum," is my automatic response. What I'm thinking, though, is, Come down when I'm ready? I guess I'll have to stay in my bedroom for the rest of my life, then.

Oh, get a grip, Bill.

I pull myself out of my chair. Throwing on some casual clothes, I make my way downstairs.


On the way down the stairs, I walk past Ron's bedroom. The door is slightly ajar and I can see him standing at the mirror, trying desperately to flatten his hair with a comb. Suddenly, he throws the comb down violently and groans. "Bloody h—"

"Er – Ron?" I ask hesitantly, poking my head through the doorway.

Ron leaps a mile through the air. "Bill!" he exclaims in shock. "I'm – er – just doing my hair." He quickly picks up the comb and points to his head.

I raise an eyebrow. "Ron Weasley, combing his hair? Whatever happened to my brother?"

"Er – Mum made me do it," he mumbles hastily.

"Ronald Bilius Weasley, you are a rotten liar."

I step into his room, closing the door behind me, and sit down on his bed. The Chudley Cannons players on the bright orange bedspread wave at me. "So, what's the deal?"

"What's the deal?"Ron repeats nervously.

"I have never seen you focus more than thirty seconds on your appearance in the morning, and I have never in my life seen you this distraught over messy hair. So... what's the deal?"

Ron flops down on the floor, crossing his arms defensively. "There's no deal. I just want to look nice for your wedding. Got a problem with that?"

I study his face intently. He's lying alright. My brother is so transparent. "You want to suck up to Mum?" I guess.

The genuinely revolted look on his face tells me I'm not on the right track. "Alright then. You want to impress someone?" I ask relentlessly.

Ron glares.

"There some girl in your life I don't know about?" I say, half-jokingly.

Why is it that when I'm not being serious, I always get closest to the truth?

Ron's ears turn bright red. "No!"

Good job, Bill. You're on the right track."Hoping to snag some Veela cousins?"

He glares again. "Why do you care so much?"

"That's a brother's job," I say, attempting to keep a straight face. Really, though, I'm just trying to keep my mind off the fact that I am going to be married in, oh, four hours. Crap.

"Go away," Ron grunts.

Is that any way to treat your loving, caring, kind, attractive, brave, thoughtful brother? "Ron, in case you haven't forgotten, I am getting married today. If there's anyone you need to ask for girl advice..." I trail off meaningfully.

Ron frowns. For a moment I think he's about to open his mouth and spill his innermost feelings to me. Then... he shakes his head.

"Ron, you know I'm never going to give up on this now. This must be some pretty special girl if you're willing to comb your hair to impress her." I begin scanning my brain for any girls that are going to be at the wedding today that are around his age.

"It's not a girl!" he protests pitifully.

My mind is at a blank. I cannot think of one single solitary girl who Ron might be interested in who is going to be at my wedding. "Well, unless you're falling for, I don't know, Hermione, or something—"


I watch as Ron's entire face turns a dark shade of red. He nonchalantly fiddles with the carpet as though attempting indifference, but it doesn't work too well.

Nice try, Ron.

"Hermione?" I ask incredulously.

"What?" Ron demands. Well, Ron, you just broke a world record. I did not think it was possible for anyone's face to get that red. When I say tomato-red, I am not exaggerating.

"Do you fancy Hermione?"

"Wha- no- of course not- how could you even think—"

I give him a sceptical look.


I do not break my unblinking gaze from his face for a good five minutes.

"Ron Weasley, if you do not answer me this, I will kill you. Do you fancy Hermione Granger?"

He stands up and turns his back to me, folding his arms across his chest. "It's none of your business."

I can't help but grin broadly. Ron most definitely fancies Hermione. That is the most adorable couple ever. "Oh, come off it, Ron. I'm your older brother. I'm not going to laugh at you. I'm—"

Ron whirls around so fast that I feel dizzy. "So what if I do?" he snaps, as though daring me to laugh at him.

I grin. "Well, good old Doctor Bill is here to give you some advice." I pat the bed, indicating for him to sit down.

He does, extremely grudgingly.

"How long have you fancied her, then?"

No reply.

"Ron, you can't expect any help from me if you don't answer my questions."

No reply.


He glares again.

My, my, we are not appreciative, are we?

"Okay, well seeing as you appear to be at a complete loss for words, I'm just going to tell you what to do, and you smile and nod. That easy enough for you?"

Ron nods.

"I said smile and nod, not give-Bill-the-death-glare and nod."

Ron can't help but grin apologetically. I don't think he even realizes what he's doing.

"Okay, so, there's going to be dancing at the wedding, right? So… just ask her to dance."

Ron looks in shock. "What? I can't ask her to dance! I can't dance! And what if she says no? What if—"

"Whoa, whoa," I say. For someone who was so quiet five minutes ago…

"Trust me, Ron. It's going to work."

Ron mumbles something under his breath.

"Say what?"

Ron mumbles slightly louder.

"Ron, I'm sure that as long as you aren't a sloppy eater, you won't have crumbs—"

"Krum!" he exclaims angrily. "You invited Krum!"

"Fleur invited Krum," I correct gently. "And what does Krum have to do with Herm— oh."

Now that he mentions it, I vaguely remember hearing Mum proudly tell us how Hermione went to the Yule Ball with Krum.

Watch out, Ron, here comes that little green monster called Jealousy.

"Well, Ron, here is a simple solution. Get to her first. Ask her to dance before he can. Otherwise you'll be watching the love of your life—" Ron smacks me, hard, "dance to her heart's content with Viktor Krum. Your choice."

Ron's complexion is now purpling. I've got him there. "I— I—"

Just when I think he's running out of arguments: "Fred and George are never going to let me live it down."

Oops. Didn't see that one coming. "Ron ,you need to learn to not let them bother you. You're never even going to be able to get married if you're so afraid what Fred and George think of you!"

Ron blushes. "Okay, okay, fine. I'll think about it." He stands up and I can see he is now trying to get me to leave.

I walk towards the door.

"And – uh – Bill?"


"Please don't tell this to anyone, will you?" he begs.

I sigh. "Of course not."

I am married. I cannot believe that I am married. This is the best day of my life. I am dancing with my… my wife (it feels unbelievably weird to say that) in the middle of the dance floor. She is beautiful. My undivided attention is on her.

Suddenly, my gaze lands on Ron, Hermione, Krum, and "Barny". I see Ron take a deep breath and extend his hand to Hermione.

"Come and dance."

She looks pleasantly surprised, but takes his hand. They make their way to the floor.

He nervously puts his arms around her waist. I manage to catch his eye, grinning. He turns red but grins back, and I can see the hope in his eyes.

I know that Hermione doesn't care about Ron's hair.

But Ron obviously does. And if trying to give Hermione a good impression makes him happy, I have a feeling it will make her happy too.

It's a good basis for a relationship.

A relationship that leads to marriage.

It makes me think of mine and Fleur's.

Yes, there is hope for them.

I wonder what the future will hold.

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