The Finer Points By Scabbers

This is it – the fifth and final segment. Thanks so much to everyone who has read and reviewed. I appreciate your support, and your patience. Please enjoy!

In response to the question posed by HugglesAll, Ron and Hermione have not ventured beyond, er, making out (for lack of a better phrase). I really can't see them moving any faster than that. :)

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. They own me.


Part 5:

As Bill and Fleur's wedding drew nearer, Mrs. Weasley became increasingly irritable, and everyone (including her husband) went out of their way both to obey and avoid her. Once Harry had settled in, he, too, was put to work, cleaning the ballroom, putting up fairy lights, and feeding the owls that arrived by the dozens, bearing responses to the invitations. Mrs. Weasley had even given him and Hermione the special task of selecting their favorite Muggle songs to be played at the reception.

The twins had stayed on since Harry's birthday, having taken over a dilapidated room off one of the many winding hallways on the second floor. Harry was surprised to discover how helpful they turned out to be with the preparations, as they were old enough to use magic where it was needed. Nevertheless, they couldn't seem to resist tormenting their younger brother, who knew better than to take their complaints to their frazzled mother. It seemed that everywhere Harry looked, there was another strategically placed rubber spider, just waiting to be stumbled upon. Ron was looking jumpier every day.


Three days before the wedding, Fleur sent along an owl, asking if Ginny would like to be one of her bridesmaids.

"She's choosing now?" asked Ginny, surprised. "Isn't it a bit late for that?"

"Maybe someone's dropped out," suggested George.

"You know, I reckon that's exactly what's happened," Ginny said with a laugh. "I must be the back-up bridesmaid."

"Lucky you," said Ron.

Mrs. Weasley looked up from Fleur's letter. "Well, I think it's perfectly wonderful. Now you can be in the ceremony with Harry and your brothers, dear!"

Ginny shrugged. "I mean, it doesn't really matter to me all that much ,"

"Nonsense, dear!" said Molly. "Bill will be absolutely thrilled. "We'll let them know right away."

"I guess that's that," Ginny said, smiling weakly.


A closer look at the letter yielded information Ginny found to be particularly disconcerting. "Erm, when she says the bridesmaids are wearing bright pink," Ginny asked, a note of panic creeping into her voice. "Does that mean me?"

"Oh dear," said Mrs. Weasley. "It certainly does mean you. I suppose we'll have to buy you new dress robes…

"Oh well," said Ginny brightly. "I guess we don't have the time or money for that, do we? Maybe Fleur has a friend she could put in my place."

Mrs. Weasley smiled tightly. "We'll manage, dear. I suppose I could take you this afternoon, and ,"

"But Mum!"

"No buts, Ginny. It's sweet of you to be concerned, but it's not every day your brother gets married."

"There are six of them, Mum. It will be practically every day."

"Actually," interjected Hermione. "Ginny has a point. You might consider getting her a set of Flexi-robes, so she can change the color every time one of the boys gets married." She blushed, suddenly, and looked pointedly away from Ron.

Mrs. Weasley shook her head. "That's a lovely thought, dear, but I'm afraid we can't afford it right now."

"Oh," Hermione said, looking embarrassed.

The twins exchanged a glance and a nod. "Actually," said George, "We can afford it."

"Business is booming," added Fred, with a sly grin. The twins watched with delight as their mother visibly struggled between gratitude and disapproval.

"I couldn't ask you to do that," she said finally.

"You're not," said George. "We're offering. In fact, we're insisting."

"That's quite all right," Ginny said suddenly. "I really don't mind not being a bridesmaid. Really, it's okay."

"But Ginny," Fred was the picture of innocence. "Think of how great it will look in the photos. All of us Weasley siblings together, dressed to the nines…" He glanced sideways at his mother, who looked misty at the mere mention of wedding photos, and back at George who gave him the thumbs up. Ginny's nostrils flared as she looked back and forth from one twin to the other.

Mrs. Weasley smiled wetly. "You boys… so thoughtful…so mature…" She swept her twins into a big, grateful hug.

"It's nothing really, Mum," George said sweetly. "In fact, why don't you pick out something nice for yourself while you're there."


"Okay, what are you two trying to pull?" hissed Ginny, after Mrs. Weasley had apparated to a meeting with the caterer.

"Whatever do you mean, Ginny?" asked Fred, eyes wide. "We just wanted you to have your pretty dress robes for the wedding."

Ginny stared him down.

"Well, if you must know," he said finally, "We thought it prudent to show Mum just what sorts of lovely things can be bought with Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes' Galleons."

"Wonderful," Ginny said with a frustrated sigh. "I was hoping to get out of being a bridesmaid, you know."

"Yeah, we picked up on that," said George. "What's the problem? You seemed okay with it before."

"That was before I knew I'd have to wear bright pink."

"And what's wrong with pink?" asked Fred, who happened to be wearing a bright pink shirt. "Redheads look great in pink."

"No," said Ginny. "Redheads look rubbish in pink. Especially you, Fred." Ron and George snickered.

"Anyway," Ginny moaned. "Now I'll be stuck looking like that next to all of Fleur's veela cousins!"

"That's right!" Fred said, smiling broadly. "Fleur's part veela! I reckon the bridesmaids will be fit as hell – and as groomsmen, we, my ginger- and black-haired brothers, are their escorts!" He put his arms around Ron's and Harry's shoulders and sighed dreamily. It was difficult to tell who looked more disgruntled – Ginny or Hermione.


Ginny managed to convince Hermione to accompany her to town that afternoon, so the boys were left to finish up the day's work on their own. Mrs. Weasley led the way, navigating first through the floo network, and then through the summer crowds at Diagon Alley. They ended up in a small boutique neither Ginny nor Hermione had ever seen before, much less been inside.

"May I help you?" asked the shopkeeper, a round-faced woman in her forties or fifties wearing burnt orange dress robes.

"Why yes, in fact," replied Mrs. Weasley. "I was looking to buy a set of formal Flexi-robes for my daughter, if you carry them. My son's getting married, you see, and Ginny here's one of the bridesmaids." She smiled proudly.

"How lovely!" exclaimed the shopkeeper. She turned to Hermione, smiling kindly. "Ginny, dear – you must be so excited to be a bridesmaid in your brother's wedding!"

"Oh – well, actually, she's Ginny," said Hermione politely. "I'm her friend Hermione." She and Ginny exchanged a smile.

"I apologize!" said the shopkeeper. "Well, Ginny, if you'll come on back, we'll get you fitted for your new dress robes." She turned to Mrs. Weasley and Hermione. "Please feel free to look around, ladies, and let me know if you can't find your size." Smiling, she whisked Ginny to the back of the store.

Mrs. Weasley thumbed through the racks, occasionally selecting something to bring to the fitting room. Hermione wandered through and around the rows of dress robes, letting her hands brush across the many different textures of fabric. These robes put her trusty periwinkle set to shame, she realized. She wondered if she shouldn't consider buying something new for herself.

She was considering trying on a sophisticated looking set in a rich shade of maroon, when a flash of teal green behind it caught her eye. She pushed the maroon robe aside, and a soft gasp escaped her lips.

The teal robes were made of a rich, heavy fabric Hermione couldn't identify, with intricate gold stitching all throughout. The collar, sleeves, and waist were lined gold silk. It was the most beautiful article of clothing Hermione had ever seen. Slowly, she lifted it off the shelf and checked the price tag. It wasn't cheap, by any means, but she had three birthdays worth of money converted into Galleons, waiting to be spent.

"Oh, Hermione, how beautiful!"

Hermione turned around to find Ginny standing behind her in a pair of perfect-fitting black dress robes that showed off the creamy white skin around her collarbone.

"Are those your Flexi-robes, Ginny? They're lovely."

"Thanks," Ginny said. "Believe me, they're not so lovely in bright pink, but they'll do. Now, tell me, where did you find that impossibly gorgeous set of robes, and why on earth haven't you tried them on yet?"

Hermione blushed. "I don't know, Ginny. I don't really need new dress robes right now. I've still got my periwinkle ones… I really shouldn't…"

"Oh, you definitely should," said Ginny with a smile. "Come on, I know where the fitting rooms are."

Just as Hermione entered the fitting room on the right, Mrs. Weasley emerged from the one on the left, carrying a deep violet robe by the hanger. "There you are, Ginny," she said. "Tell me what you think of this color. Too bright?"

"I think it's lovely, Mum."

"Really? Be honest, dear , I'd rather hear it from you than – oh Hermione!"

Hermione blushed. "Do you like them?" She had quickly slipped the teal robes over her jeans, but it was obvious that they fit her perfectly. The teal color made her skin glow, and the golden detailing brought out the golden highlights in her hair.

"Do I like them?" breathed Ginny. "Hermione, look at yourself! You're absolutely stunning."

Hermione shyly studied her reflection, cocking her head to one side. Was she really stunning? She didn't think so. Certainly, the robes suited her, but a pair of robes couldn't make a person beautiful. Her face was as plain as ever, she assessed, and her hair was like a rat's nest.

As if she could read her mind, Mrs. Weasley came up behind Hermione and gently gathered her hair back, holding it off her face. "There," she said. "Lovely."

Hermione's eyes widened. Maybe she did look stunning. Was that really all it took – a gorgeous dress and someone pulling her hair back?

"Exquisite," said the mirror.

"Thank you," Hermione said, though it felt odd to thank her own reflection. Taking a deep breath, she turned around to face Ginny and Mrs. Weasley. "So… I should buy this, you think?"

"Merlin's beard, yes!" said Ginny.

Hermione smiled. "Okay, then." She slipped back into the dressing room to de-robe, despite the fact that she was wearing her clothes underneath.

"You too, Ginny," said Mrs. Weasley.

"Right," said Ginny, looking down. She had forgotten she was still wearing the Flexi-robes.

"Hey, Hermione," Ginny whispered a moment later from the dressing room. The wall dividing the two little rooms was so thin, it sounded to Hermione as if she was speaking directly in her ear.

"Yes?"

"Ron's going to pee his pants when he sees you, you know that, right?"

Hermione grinned to herself. "How romantic," she said.


The evening before the wedding, Hermione had a bit of time to herself, as Harry and the Weasleys had all gone to rehearse for the ceremony. "Good," she told herself sternly. "Now you have time to get ahead on reading for next term." By sunset, she was curled up in bed with Crookshanks and a pile of textbooks, determined to get through at least two or three before Ginny returned.

But, as it turned out, for the first time in her life, Hermione Granger couldn't focus on reading. Her mind kept wandering – pages would go by, and she'd suddenly realize she hadn't absorbed a word of it. Just getting through the first chapter of her History of Magic reading was, to use her parents' favorite expression, like pulling teeth. She wondered if this was what it was like being Ron.

Ron was the problem, really. No matter how hard she tried to focus on the Great Mermaid Migration of 1507, her mind kept coming back to his twinkling blue eyes.

She had to admit she was excited for him to see her in her new dress robes. It wasn't that he didn't seem to like her in Muggle tee-shirts and jeans. At least, he liked her well enough to kiss her madly at every opportunity (and beg for her to remove said tee-shirts). But still, his reaction to her outfit the one time he'd ever seen her dressed up, though frustrating, had been delicious. She wondered if she'd manage to surprise him again tomorrow in the teal.

"This is ridiculous," she told herself. "You're not the one getting married tomorrow. You aren't even in the wedding. You have no right to be so excited."

Ron was in the wedding, though. She couldn't wait to see how he looked in his new dress robes, jet black like all the groomsmen. Weasleys always looked fit in black.

"Enough!" She slammed her book shut, making Crookshanks jump. Flopping backwards on her bed with a groan, she cursed Ron for being so adorably distracting.


Ginny felt a rush of excitement from the moment she woke up on the morning of her brother's wedding. Even the prospect of parading down the aisle in monstrously bright pink couldn't sour her mood. Bill was getting married! Ginny was going to have a sister-in-law, and maybe even nieces and nephews, before long. Bill would make a wonderful father, she reckoned. She remembered how she used to curl up in Bill's lap when he'd return home from Hogwarts on breaks, and make him read her storybooks until she fell asleep.

The ceremony was scheduled to begin at 2:00, but Ginny and the other bridesmaids were expected to report to Fleur's bedchamber by noon, so they could help her get ready. Ginny had to admit she was less than excited about being locked in a room for two hours with half a dozen gorgeous witches chattering in French. Nevertheless, the ceremony itself was something to look forward to. In the past few days, her dread of being a bridesmaid had caused her to overlook one fabulous detail, which she's only just realized last night during the rehearsal.

With just one exception, the groomsmen were all her brothers. Thus, her escort for the ceremony was, quite naturally, Harry Potter. Ginny would be walking down the aisle arm in arm with Harry. Every time she thought of it, her whole body tingled with excitement.


At half past one, dozens of guests in brightly colored robes began filing into the rows of seats that Mr. Weasley and the children had set up in the room directly off the ballroom. Murmuring voices conversed gaily in English and French, and the air carried the sweet scent of hundreds of flowers. Hermione, who was sitting in the second row between Mrs. Weasley and Hagrid, craned her neck to study the faces of the witches and wizards who continued to stream in. She had never seen so many redheads in her life.

Across the aisle to her left, a throng of Bill's old school-mates and a few ginger-haired Weasley cousins were crowded around two of Fleur's veela relatives, stumbling over each other to regale the girls with spectacularly fabricated tales of personal success. Two rows back sat Professor Flitwick, who waved excitedly when she caught his eye.

A sudden hush swept over the crowd, and Hermione saw that it was finally 2:00. A quartet of somber looking ghosts began to play something slow and sweet. Then, as if out of nowhere, Dumbledore appeared at the front of the room, wearing sparkling white dress robes. Hermione must have looked surprised, because Hagrid leaned over and whispered in her ear, "I take it yeh didn't know it'd be Dumbledore up there doin' the ceremony, of course. He's the best there is, I tell yeh. Reckon he'll be the one teh marry Ron and yerself one day." Hagrid winked; Hermione's face turned scarlet.

Dumbledore slowly raised both arms, and the guests craned their necks backwards to see Bill, wide-eyed in black robes, making his way forward on a magic carpet. "Oh, praise Merlin, he's taken out that dreadful fang," Hermione heard Mrs. Weasley mutter as Bill floated past.

The quartet picked up the tempo, slightly, as pairs of black-robed groomsmen and bridesmaids in bright pink followed Bill down the aisle. Charlie, the best man, was first, gallantly escorting the maid of honor, Fleur's ten-year-old sister Gabrielle. The five other Weasley boys followed in order of age, each one linking arms with one of Fleur's cousins or schoolmates. Ron, to Hermione's relief, was escorting a cousin who hardly looked older than Gabrielle; he winked at Hermione as he walked by.

Bringing up the rear were Harry and Ginny, who looked to Hermione as if they were sharing a brilliant inside joke, but Hermione didn't think anyone who didn't know them well would notice. A tiny blond haired girl with enough veela blood to attract attention at the tender age of five trailed behind, sending fairies out into the rows of guests. When everyone reached the front, the groomsmen stood to the left, and the bridesmaids to the right. The fairy girl stood next to Dumbledore, looking up at him curiously.

The music came to a crescendo, and Fleur began her slow procession down the aisle, alongside a distinguished looking silver-haired man that could only be her father. Half of the guests gasped as she passed; the other half simply gaped in awe. If Fleur had been beautiful in normal clothes, she was positively majestic in white wedding robes. A garland of white flowers rested upon her silvery blond hair, and her eyes glowed turquoise. Bill looked as if he was ready to burst.

When they arrived at the front, Fleur's father kissed her on the cheek and took his seat in the front. Dumbledore cleared his throat and said, "We are gathered here today to join these two, William Weasley and Fleur Delacour, in the bonds of holy matrimony." Then, to Hermione's surprise, he reached his hands out to Bill and Fleur; they each removed something from small velvet pouches attached to their robes and placed it in his open palm.

"What's that?" Hermione whispered to Hagrid.

"Locks eh hair," Hagrid replied. "Now watch this."

Dumbledore tossed up the two locks of hair and transfigured them in the air, without the aid of a wand. A moment later, a sparkling gold ring had replaced Bill's circle of hair, and Fleur's had turned to silver. With the slightest bow of his head, he handed each ring to its owner.

Bill took a deep breath. "I, Bill Weasley, take you, Fleur Delacour to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer –," he smiled, "For poorer, come creatures and curses, to love and to cherish, till death do us part." His voice was husky – he was getting quite choked up. Ginny, Hermione noticed, had tears streaming down her cheeks. "With this ring, I thee wed." Molly Weasley sniffed loudly as he slid the gold ring onto Fleur's slender finger.

Fleur was beaming. "I, Fleur Delacour, take you, Bill Weasley, to be my wedded huzzband, to have and to hold, from zis day forward, for bettair or for worse, for richair, for poorair, come harpies and hexes, to love and to cherish, till death do us part." She slid the silver ring on his finger. "With zis ring, I zee wed." A collective dreamy sigh erupted from Fleur's Beauxbatons friends in the middle rows.

Dumbledore raised his hands skyward. "By Merlin's decree, let it be so. I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss each other senseless."

The room exploded into applause.


After a few last remarks from Dumbledore, the newly married couple, grinning, scampered back down the aisle and into the ballroom, followed by the wedding party. The guests immediately poured in after them, descending upon Bill and Fleur en masse to gush their congratulations. On a platform stage in the back, Celestina Warbeck warmed up with an enchanted piano.

Ginny's immediate plan was to find Charlie or her mum, or just about anyone, really, who might be willing to do the quick spell to charm her robes to black – but, as sod's law would have it, everyone but the twins seemed quite occupied. "Merlin's beard," she muttered, frustrated.

"Did you say something, Ginny, love?" Fred asked in a treacherously sweet voice.

She looked from one twin to the other, down at her garish pink robes, and back up again. The twins were of age, and she was sure they were carrying wands – everyone did these days, just in case – but was it worth the risk? Surely, Fred and George would leave her naked as a phoenix on burning day before actually doing her a favor.

But then – the twins had been rather decent to her lately, particularly George. Perhaps they'd be kind. It was Bill's wedding, after all.

One more glimpse down at that unbearable shade of pink made the decision for her. "I've got a bit of a favor," she said, hoping she wouldn't regret it. "Can you charm my robes to black? Nothing funny, okay? Plain black." She regarded them with obvious distrust.

Fred smiled kindly. "Well, Ginny, I wouldn't do this for just anyone, but since you're my favorite sister…" A wave of his wand later, Ginny was horrified to find that her robes were now bright orange.

"Sorry, Gin," George said regretfully, "But black's just so boring." Ginny glared at them as they retreated, laughing.

"Bugger," she sighed. "I look just like a Chudley Cannon." As if to prove her point, Ron caught her eye from across the room, gave her the thumbs up, and mouthed, "Go Cannons!"

Ginny was occupied with pondering what, exactly, constituted an emergency regarding underage magic in the summer when Dumbledore swept by her, touching her robes lightly with his fingertips, and continued past her into the ballroom. Ginny looked down at her robes and saw that they were no longer orange, though they weren't black either. They were a dazzling shade of silvery blue.

"This'll do," she murmured, smiling. Dumbledore looked back over his shoulder at her and winked.


A while later, Celestina Warbeck was singing her heart out, and the dance floor was filled with couples swaying in time. Bill and Fleur were in the center of it all, looking as if they didn't even notice the hundreds of guests who had shown up in their honor. Mrs. Weasley, face flushed from the wine, had her head on her husband's shoulder. Even George was gaily spinning Fleur's sister and chattering to her over the music. "Yeah, we could use you on the G-team," he said, giving her hair a brotherly tug. Gabrielle beamed.

Ron was surprised to find that he actually wanted to dance, provided it was with Hermione. Only problem was, in the sea of guests that had streamed in behind him, he hadn't caught a glimpse of her. He craned his neck around to see if she was in the crowd by the punch bowl, or maybe chatting with McGonagall beneath the fairy lights in the entrance way, but she didn't seem to be anywhere. Momentarily, he wondered if she hadn't slipped off to go read next term's textbooks.

Then, he spotted her near the platform stage, scanning the room with a determined look on her face – she was looking for him, too. Ron stared at her, his heart beating fast. Her hair, still curly but somehow tamer than usual, was clipped back a bit at the sides with gold barrettes, and she was wearing new robes in a brilliant shade of teal. She looked beautiful – too beautiful. "What on earth does she see in me?" he thought nervously.

Hermione felt him staring – she caught his eye suddenly and grinned. He blushed deeply, and smiled back. They navigated their way through the crowd towards each other. "Finally!" she sighed, taking both his hands. "Thought I'd never find you. All those redheads."

"Yes, but just think," said Ron. "It'll only be a problem at Weasley family functions. The rest of the time, spotting me in a crowd's a no-brainer." He leaned down and softly kissed her forehead. "You look so beautiful, by the way."

Hermione blushed, surprised. It was the first time he had ever straight up called her beautiful – and the first time he'd even sort of kissed her in public. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of one of the twins smirking.

A fast song ended, and a slower one began. "Come on, let's dance," said Hermione, guiding Ron's hands to her waist. "I actually know this song."

"Really? I've never heard it," said Ron.

"That's because it's a Muggle song," she replied. "I picked it out, actually." She rested her chin on his shoulder and sang along softly with Celestina Warbeck. "My lonely days are over, and life is like a song…"

"A Muggle song, huh? So it's by, what's her name, Britty Smears?"

Hermione laughed. "Hardly! Etta James," she said. "And it's Britney Spears, for the record, not Britty Smears."

"Same difference," said Ron shrugging.

"Oh, that won't do," said Hermione, stopping suddenly. She looked Ron squarely in the eye. "You'll be calling Britney by her proper name from now on, thank you."

"And if I don't?" Ron asked, eyes twinkling.

"Well," said Hermione, sighing regretfully. "Looks like I'll have to do this." And she kissed him, not quite as thoroughly as she might have done in private, but he got the message all the same.


Ginny, for her part, was taking a breather in one of the chairs by the entrance. She'd just gotten through a fast dance with a friend of Bill's named Paul, and was recovering with a glass of punch.

Leaning back into the velvety cushion, she surveyed her surroundings with pleasure and pride. Having had only a few weeks to work with, they had certainly brought everything together marvelously. The ballroom glowed with white candles and fairy lights, and there were large bouquets of white flowers on every surface. Mrs. Weasley had even enchanted the floor to look like water, and Ginny found herself fixated on the ripples that radiated outward from the hundreds of dancing feet.

For Ginny, though, the very best part was Bill – she had never seen him so happy. Dancing in slow circles to Celestina Warbeck's rendition of a Muggle song, he and Fleur looked like an old-fashioned couple from an antique photograph – except for the bit of diamond sparkling in Bill's right earlobe. Ginny smiled, feeling the fang earring that was hidden under her own thick curtain of hair. She had traded with Bill at the very last minute, and she and Harry had shared a quiet laugh over it all the way down the aisle.

For the tenth or eleventh time that day, she blushed at the thought of walking down the aisle with Harry.

What would her own wedding be like, she wondered. She knew she wanted to be married someday, but she couldn't fathom the reality of it, not now. She wondered what Fleur had felt walking down the aisle, and what Bill had felt, watching her come towards him. What sort of magic was in those rings they had exchanged? Ginny sighed. What could possibly be more romantic?

"What are you doing here all by yourself, Ginny?"

Ginny looked up, cheeks quite flushed. "Oh, hi Harry. Just resting my feet. Care to join me?"

"Sure, thanks." He sat down next to her and stretched his legs out. Hagrid waltzed past them with Madame Maxine and winked. Ron and Hermione were dancing nearby as well, grinning madly at each other, but they didn't seem to notice Harry and Ginny at all. "It's been an interesting summer," Harry murmured, looking at them.

Ginny chucked. "Too right," she replied.

They watched the dozens of dancing couples, periodically stealing sideways glances at each other, but not talking. Celestina Warbeck finished her Muggle tune and started singing a slow song Ginny knew her parents loved. She'd bed ten galleons her mum had requested it.

Harry took a deep breath. "Listen, do you want to dance?" He looked at her, nervously. "I mean, it's all right if you don't, of course, I understand – ."

"Okay," said Ginny, smiling. "Yeah, definitely."

They walked over to the dance floor, holding hands. Ginny's heart pounded as he gently put his hands on her waist. She looked up at him – he was looking down at her, smiling quite tenderly.

Blushing, she nestled in a bit closer. It had, indeed, been an interesting summer, she thought. And there were still two weeks left until school started up again.

Two more weeks. She rested her head on Harry's shoulder, smiling to herself. It seemed like absolutely forever, and it was only the beginning.


Fin.

Author's note: And so, we leave them. We can trust that they'll find ways to entertain each other til school starts.

I truly hope you liked this – it was exceptionally fun to write. It kept me sane all winter.

The Muggle song is, of course, "At Last", and I highly recommend Eva Cassidy's version. Go download it, not that I condone illegal file sharing (or underage drinking, or the sticking of small objects in ears).

Til next time,

Scabbers