Hermione and Ron do it first; get married, I mean. Not that there's a competition, or anything. And anyway, you could say things have been "going on" with the two of them first, even if they didn't get together until after Harry and I did. I sit on the bed, trying not to wrinkle my dress, watching Hermione look at herself in the mirror. She's wearing a white bridesdress, of course, and her hair is piled on top of her head, sort of like how it looked at the Yule Ball, only not at all like that.

She looks so beautiful, and I wonder if I'll look as good at my wedding, and all of the sudden I'm wondering why I can remember how Hermione fixed her hair at the Yule Ball, but I can't remember how Harry looked like (after all I'd been obsessed with him until my third year) or what Michael had been wearing or what he said (because after all I fell head-over-heels with him at the Yule Ball). But I know, and I know I know, and I know she knows, and I know she knows I know she knows. For all that knowing, nothing's really happened between us, though. Not ever.

It's always been there, sort of, in the subtext. Like that time when she was braiding my hair and her hands traveled downwards a bit too far. Or when, once, after our usual conversation about how guys would never get it, we became silent and stared at each other. Or any time when we hugged just a few moments too long. But I was going to marry Harry (finally, FINALLY), and Hermione was going to marry Ron, and that was that. Right? So why did the feel the need to ask?

"Hermione, are you happy?"

Hermione spun around, a smile on her face, not just with her mouth, but her whole face. "I'm happy, yes. I'm thrilled, I'm ecstatic, I'm delirious."

"Oh, see, I was wondering," I said. "Wondering what?" "Just, you know, if you're happy with all the decisions you've made in your life, if you don't regret anything, that sort of thing."

Hermione regarded me. "I don't like to regret things I've done, Ginny. But there are things I've wished I'd done." And she steps closer to me, and I get up, because we both know what we're talking about, it's been there for so long, the only question was who'd make the first move.

I think it's me, but I can't be sure, because it doesn't matter who started it, we're kissing. She pulls away first, though, and says, "Is this ever a bad time." "Better than if you were already married," I mumble, and pull her in for another kiss.

This one's longer, and I'm enjoying it, when she pulls away again, this time to say "I'm ruining my dress," and she's reaching for her wand to fix it, but I tell her "later" and we're kissing again and there's passion and it's good and I don't want to stop, not ever, and then she stops, and I'm going to tell her something about Hermione if you don't want to do this just say so, but her mouth is near my ear and her warm-hot breath is making me crazy and then her mouth moves towards my neck and her hand travels up my leg and then her mouth is back on mine and then there's a knock on the door and we both jump away from each other and smile at each other.

"Girls, fifteen more minutes!" Mum says. "Are you ready?" Hermione's mother asks. "Just about!" Hermione calls out, and grins at me while I'm thinking about how wow our parents are together, and it takes me a while to realize that of course they are, they're Ron's parents, too, and it's Ron and Hermione's wedding.

"We had to do that, didn't we?" Hermione was all smiles. "To get that out of the way," I agreed. "Now we can both have happy lives with our husbands, and only wonder 'what if' a little bit." "Our husbands!" There's something that sounds like panic in my voice. "Our husbands," she agrees. "We're getting married." We shriek for a while, and then we fix up our hair and check ourselves in the mirror one last time before stepping out the door into our new lives. We'll always wonder, I know, but we'll be happy either way.