A/N: This has been Beta'd by the amazing SometimeSelkie. And also was read by VioletJersey and Nutmeg44. Thank you, ladies, for your input and help.

I have been waiting ages to get this posted because I am need of a new beta. (SometimeSelkie is still amazing, but very busy.) And so I decided to post the first chapter in the hopes that someone will come forward to help me get this thing rolling.

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My Big Fat Weasley Wedding

Chapter 1

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Ten Years. That's right. It's been ten whole years since Harry defeated – or, rather, outsmarted - the dark wizard known as Voldemort. Ten long and boring years. And I, Ginevra Molly Weasley, have decided that enough is enough.

It's kind of funny that just a few weeks ago I was really excited to celebrate the tenth anniversary of Victory Day. I was positively giddy with the planning and arranging of the celebrations that would take place at The Burrow. All of my brothers and their wives and families would be staying with us for the first time in many years. They would be arriving the night before the big day and staying through the weekend. The entire Weasley clan would be attending the Ministry celebration being held at Hogwarts. I had even made some new dress robes to wear to the big party. That's right, I made them. And I only mention this because it later becomes a very important factor into why I have had enough. But the point is I would have been hard-pressed to admit that underneath all that happiness was a witch slowly fading into nothingness. To everyone else, I appeared more content than I had in years. I had settled for less, a great deal less, and had even bought into the lie I told myself.

So on the eve of Victory Day, I graciously played co-host with my mother, welcoming the ever-increasing numbers of my large family. It was about the third time someone mentioned how much I was like my mother that I started to feel the first prickling of dissatisfaction. It's not even that I don't admire my mum, I really do. I am in awe of her ability to run The Burrow and play gran to the host of little ones that are constantly dropping in and out. She runs a tight ship, and now that I am first mate of said ship, I can truly appreciate everything she must have sacrificed for us as kids. My dad is a very typical, old-fashioned wizard. Once he exits the Floo, he is done working for the day. It has always been that way, and most of my brothers are the same. Maybe Ron and Hermione have more of an equal partnership, but even he is the king of the castle when they are home. Anyway, after the third reference to my Molly-like behaviour, I couldn't help but cringe each time I heard myself utter her standard phrase, "Pish-posh and doxie socks!" I mean, when on earth did I start saying that?

It only became worse the following evening after we entered the Great Hall of Hogwarts. I actually had felt I looked pretty when I checked my reflection in my mirror at home before we left. My dark purple robes, trimmed with delicate handwork along the hem, were very flattering and revealed the smallest amount of décolletage, and that's a lot for me. I "blossomed" once I stopped playing so much Quidditch, and I've always been rather self-conscious of my chest since then. I had stood at my mirror, admiring my reflection, and imagined some wizard commenting on them. My robes, not my girls. Although I wouldn't mind, really. I realized that I actually wanted some male attention and was feeling rather confident for a change. I even wondered about the last time I had felt attractive and briefly thought of the night Oliver decided to help me lose my virginity – but that's something I will get to later.

The Great Hall was decorated most spectacularly, as was to be expected, and everyone looked beautiful in his or her finest robes. The witches were sparkling in their jewels and the wizards were dashing in their form-fitting dark robes. Several of my brothers had danced with me already, and I had danced quite a few times with Harry. That was nice. I felt like we were on the road to friendship again. I had neglected pretty much all of my friends over the last few years. Upon arrival, I had felt awkward seeing some of them after so much time and retreated back to my family. I sat on the edge of the hall, watching the numerous couples enjoying the festivities. Not one available wizard had approached me the entire evening, and I was starting to feel like a fool for entertaining the idea that I was attractive. Before I could start crying, I ran towards the nearest loo and tripped over a small child, upending her large plate of food onto my stomach. After apologizing repeatedly to the little witch, who actually sneered at me, I continued my escape, barely even able to see through the tears that were streaming down my cheeks.

I stood in front of the mirror of the loo and took in my ruined dress and face. Before I could pull out my wand and try to repair the damage, the door began to open and the sound of giggling witches filled the room. Something in their laughter told me that they were not witches I would want to encounter. I'm not sure why or how I could deduce that their humour was the kind that was found at someone else's expense, but that is what I felt and I went with it. I quickly bolted into the toilet at the far end and hid. It was sitting on the toilet with my feet pulled up and my knees bent, causing the large stain to transfer to new parts of my robes, that I finally saw myself for what I had become. It didn't hurt that the witches primping in front of the mirrors confirmed it.

"I am so getting laid tonight!" said one with a small groan of satisfaction.

I leaned over to try and see through the crack in the door, but it was to no avail. And probably best since I didn't want to be seen either.

"Yes, you most certainly are. It's about time, Daph. It's been what, almost three months?" The witches shuddered audibly.

Three months? Did I forget to mention that Oliver did not succeed that night? Right. Still holding that V-Card.

"Merlin, I know," Daph answered. "Are you sure you don't mind, Tori? I know you were supposed to marry him."

Morgana's Minions! They must be the Greengrass sisters. Rumour has it that they share everything. Everything. Okay, I just made that up. I'm socially challenged, and I have no idea what the latest gossip is.

"Please! I called off that ridiculous betrothal, as you well know. I can't believe Mother thought that I'd actually want to follow through with it after the war. He is handsome, but he's so weird now."

"True … but three months is too long. It's just for tonight anyway. And maybe he's more exciting behind closed doors."

Astoria giggled out, "Good luck with that." There was a pause that I assumed was filled with more primping. Then she continued, "Oh! Did you see that Weasley girl?"

Wait! What? Why are they talking about me?

"She was dancing with Potter for a long time," Daphne retorted in conspiratorial tone.

"Pathetic," they said in unison.

Pathetic.

I stopped listening after that because all I could hear was that one word.

Pathetic.

I looked down at my handmade robes, covered in slimy food. My Gryffindor bravery clearly had abandoned me. I was actually hiding in a toilet and not even one part of me wanted to hex those two vile sisters. If anything, I would have flushed myself into the Ministry if that were an option. What had happened to me? I used to be Ginny Weasley, star Chaser for my school team. I was popular. I was fun. I even named the DA. I fought in the bloody war!

I was a completely different person that I didn't even know any more. And now I am pathetic.

Eventually, I realized that they had left the loo, and I slowly made my way back to the mirrors. My knees ached as I straightened myself out, adding another reminder that I had wasted ten long years. After half-heartedly cleaning my robes and my face, I decided to make my excuses to my family and return to The Burrow.

I stepped back into the hallway and looked straight into the eyes of Draco Malfoy, who was leaning against the opposite wall. He didn't react to me at all, which, in some random part of my brain, offended me. I'm not sure what I wanted him to do, but I guess recognition would have been something. In school, he loved to at least point out that I was a Weasley.

He gave me a small smile and then asked, "Excuse me, have you seen Daphne Greengrass? I was told that she was headed this way."

His tone was polite, and I wasn't really surprised. I had not seen very much of him over the years, but he had a Ministry job and Percy had mentioned him from time to time. The only thing I knew for sure about Draco Malfoy was that he was a mystery to me. His parents had all but disappeared from society; they were no longer welcome within the upper echelons as far as I knew. After the war, the Malfoys had been spared Azkaban but not exile. In fact, it was probably only due to his Ministry position that Draco was invited to the gala. I do recall that he had been wild for those first few years after the war, intent on proving that he was the bad boy everyone deemed him to be. Those were my Harry years, and I had not really paid any attention to him when we would see him at various nightspots. I'm not sure what happened, but eventually Draco decided to change his ways and he stopped partying and started working. He was respected within the Ministry, at least from what I had heard, but he had become somewhat of a recluse over the last few years. Hello Pot, I'm Kettle. Or is it the other way? Whatever. And now he was looking to get laid by one Daphne Greengrass, who had conceded that he was weird but would do to relieve her from her three-month dry spell.

He raised his brows at me since I was just staring at him during my inner monologue. I felt my blush spreading from my cheeks and quickly shook my head no before turning away.

Pathetic.

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After the war, my family pretty much fell apart. Fred's death nearly destroyed my parents. I almost didn't go back to school and finish my seventh year because I was so afraid to leave my mum. But thankfully, my dad insisted that I finish so I did, near the top of my class. Unfortunately, once I returned to The Burrow, my mother completely broke down. I guess she was holding it together until I could be at home. It was one of the worst years of my life. I took over everything at home and gave up my dreams of playing professional Quidditch. I didn't even go to tryouts. It would have been unbearable to actually make a team and then have to turn it down. At the time, I thought that I would simply wait and try out once my family was functioning again. It never happened. My mum was actually leaving the house again by the next year, but everything still made her cry. No one would even dare mention Fred in front of her. George and I once referred to him as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and well, it took a few days to recover from her hexes. I put tryouts off for another year. And then another year. Slowly, my mum and dad started to regain their strength, but by the time the next tryouts rolled around, I was dealing with other reasons to stay home.

Harry and I had rekindled our relationship pretty quickly once the war was over. At first, we kept it kind of light since I was still in school and he had started training to be an Auror. He was the perfect boyfriend. My family adored him, and he loved them too. Once I returned home, he never complained about spending so much time at The Burrow. His presence seemed to comfort my parents, and I was grateful that he was there. We continued in our comfortable little bubble for several years. Looking back now, I wonder if I would have been as content if my parents hadn't needed so much of my attention. My relationship with Harry was everything I dreamed it to be when I was eleven. But that became the problem; I wasn't an eleven-year-old girl. I was a twenty-one-year-old woman who was beginning to need a little more than my boyfriend was willing to give under my parents' roof or down the hall from my brother, his housemate.

Right about the time I was preparing to actually attend tryouts, Ron and Hermione decided to marry. It was an exciting time at home, and it gave my mother something happy to focus on. It seemed that everything was looking up, and I threw myself into training every day to be ready to return to the pitch. But the night before the wedding, Harry changed everything. He didn't intentionally do it, but it happened and I'm still paying for it.

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"Oh Merlin, Ginny." Harry was kissing my neck and grinding into my hip. His hands were firmly planted on his favourite place, my bum.

"Harry?" I asked breathlessly.

"Yeah?"

I could feel my cheeks burning. "I don't want to stop tonight."

"What?" He sat back and his eyes were wide.

"I want you, Harry Potter. And before you say I'm not ready, again. I am so ready." I smiled seductively at him and started to lift up my t-shirt.

"What are you doing?" He reached forward and took my hands into his, abruptly stopping my sexy reveal. "Ginny, we can't do this tonight."

"Why not? Ron is getting married tomorrow. Married! He and Hermione are going to be having sex every waking minute and in every possible position for the next two weeks on their honeymoon while we are still fooling around like we're in a broom cupboard at school."

"You have to be home in an hour. And thanks for the visual of your brother and Hermione." He dropped my hands and crossed his arms.

"Are you saying it's going to last more than an hour, Mr. Potter?" He usually liked it when I called him that, but it wasn't working.

"First of all, Ron and Hermione have been having sex for ages, and even if they weren't, it has nothing to do with us. And secondly, I want more for you than this."

"I don't think so, Harry. Because I know I want more for me and that's definitely not what's happening. I need you. Don't you need me like that? I feel like I'm going to die sometimes, I want you so much."

He blushed at my confession. "Of course I feel that way. I just … this wedding has made me realize that I want to wait."

"To wait?" I repeated dryly.

"Yeah. To wait until we're married." He gave me his crooked smile, and my heart melted a little.

"Really?"

"I love you, Ginny. And yes, it will last way more than an hour. Well, maybe not the first time, but then I plan on taking all night."

I was still stuck on the word married, but I could appreciate what he was saying and I smiled again. "But what about Quidditch?"

"I'm not proposing right now, Gin. Trust me, it will be much more romantic than this. And I know that when you are playing – which you will be – things may have to slow down for a while, but once you have played for a few years, we can plan our wedding. I definitely won't want to be spending so much time away from my sexy wife." He leaned forward and kissed me again.

My mind was racing. I really wanted to be married, and I really wanted to play Quidditch. I conveniently ignored the part about us not marrying until after my career. (Just the fact that he was content to delay our union for several years should have been my first warning.)

I could feel him starting to get into things again, and he placed my hand in his trousers. "We can still do other things," he whispered into my hair, and his hands resumed their position on my bum.

"What if I put off Quidditch this year?"

"Ginny, don't do that."

"You're more important to me than Quidditch. I love you, Harry." I actually started to cry. (I think it was more due to the sexual frustration. 'Other things' with Harry meant a blowjob for him and dry humping for me, maybe if I was really lucky a little more hands-on action for me.)

"Ginny, I can't think straight when you're touching me." He started moving against my fist, and I decided we could talk about it after the wedding.

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The problem with this plan was that we never did talk about it again. And I actually faked an injury to avoid going to tryouts. I'm still not sure what exactly was going through my mind to do something so extremely stupid. Maybe it was the high of attending my brother's wedding and imagining Harry and me in the starring roles. Maybe I was not so secure in my flying abilities after taking so much time off. Maybe I had spent one too many nights alone with only my hand for relief. But I didn't try out again, and I think I knew that I never would at that point.

Meanwhile, and by meanwhile I mean the entire week that was between the wedding and the tryouts, Harry signed up to do more extensive Auror training in the States. Of course, I didn't know this until he showed up at The Burrow to ask about my new Quidditch career. It was the first time we ever really fought. My mother was hysterical over the possibility that I had ruined our relationship and sent me to Grimmauld Place to fix things. So, I fixed him a couple of times and he fixed me once, the lucky version, and we acted like the fight never happened. He left for the States a few weeks later.

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The next six months were the loneliest of my life at that point. And then I ran into Oliver Wood. I never really knew Oliver before. He had been friends with the twins and had known Charlie, but I had been too young in school for him to even notice me. We hit it off immediately and started to spend more and more time together. He was still playing Quidditch and was one of the most popular Keepers in the league. I never told him of my own Quidditch dreams. It was simply too embarrassing. At first, I couldn't believe that Oliver would have a need to make friends with someone like me, but he made it clear that I was irreplaceable to him. That was beyond sweet. I think it was the first time anyone other than my parents had made me feel so special. I also started to imagine him falling for me. This was not so good because I was still very much in love and in a long-distance relationship with Harry. True, he didn't write as often as I had hoped, but his letters were always filled with so much love and promises of what was to come.

My mother was also starting to give me a hard time about my new friendship. It probably didn't help that I had taken to sleeping in a shirt Oliver had given me that read "I love me some Wood" on the back with a sexy picture of him on the front in his Quidditch gear, gripping a strategically placed broom. And since she had a point, I wrote to Harry and told him everything about Oliver. Surprisingly, he had no problems at all with Oliver and I hanging out together and even encouraged my new friendship. He even Floo'd me to talk to me about it since I was so worried about jeopardizing our relationship. He insisted that he trusted me completely, and he said that he would be returning in three months and looked forward to getting to know Oliver again as well.

Four months later and Oliver and Harry had become fast friends. I started to feel like a third wheel when around the two of them and even started to resent Harry for taking away my one good friend. I finally voiced my concerns to Oliver, and he quickly started making more time for just the two of us.

My life was pretty good for a while. I was happy even. I was waiting for Harry to propose, my mother had returned to normal, Oliver was my best friend, and I worked with George in his shop. Over the next year, George and Angelina were married, and it was the craziest and most fun wedding ceremony I had ever attended. They also had their son Fred only a few months later. Yes, a pre-honeymoon baby. Percy and his wife also added another daughter to their family. I loved taking care of the babies and convinced myself that was the reason I was not supposed to play Quidditch. I would be having my own family in the next couple of years - as soon as Harry proposed and we could get married.

It was the night after my twenty-third birthday that my entire world changed. Oliver had invited Harry and me over for dinner to celebrate. I was a little angry with Harry for not having proposed the night before, and I decided to act out by drinking a ridiculous amount of alcohol. The two wizards thought I was hilarious when I was drunk and soon joined in. We were all fairly pissed by the end of dinner, and things took a turn I never could have imagined.

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"Ginny, you have the most fantastic tits I have ever seen." Oliver smiled over his glass before chugging its contents.

I laughed loudly and looked to Harry to see if he would defend my honour. He glanced at me but kept his mouth shut. "Thanks, Ollie. But you've never actually seen them." One more look at my still mute boyfriend, and then I turned back to Ollie. "Would you like to?" I joked.

"Yes," he stated simply and nodded his head. "Harry, why don't you go over there and open Ginny's blouse for us."

I was sitting on the sofa, and Harry was on a nearby chair. The two of them shared a brief look, and Harry shakily stood and started towards me.

"Whoa! Wait a minute. Harry?" I was both completely turned on and freaking out at the same time.

"Just helping out a friend." He laughed as he sat down next to me and draped his arm around my shoulders. I started to relax, thinking that he was leading Oliver on, but then he reached around and started unbuttoning my blouse.

Oliver sat across from us, his eyes hooded as he watched Harry's fingers slowly working on each button. "Our Ginny here thinks she's going to die a virgin. I think we should help her out, Harry. It's her birthday after all."

Harry murmured something into my hair and started kissing my neck as his hand slid into my bra. I was drunk, and I had no idea what to make of my normally shy boyfriend's sudden eagerness.

Oliver spoke low and his voice was pure sex. "Ginny? I want to watch you come for Harry."

"Okay," I sighed as Harry's hands began to explore other parts of my body. I was starting to think that this was really a fantasy and I had passed out. So I decided to just go with it and enjoy it all before my mother woke me up to a terrible hangover.

After a few more minutes, all three of us were in various states of undress. Oliver had moved to the sofa and had begun to kiss me when Harry wasn't. I felt like my skin was on fire and was panting and moaning under Harry's intimate touches. Suddenly, I felt Oliver's strong arms lift me up, and I found myself being carried to the bedroom. Vaguely, I realized that I was snogging in bed with two men and thought to myself that I never knew my imagination was so kinky. Again, I was definitely holding on to the idea that this was a fantasy. Unfortunately, it quickly became more of a nightmare when I realized that when I wasn't being kissed, my two wizards were kissing each other. And then touching each other. And then, well, almost completely forgetting about me altogether. I sat there and watched my boyfriend enjoying himself more with my best friend than he had ever with me. Blinking back my tears, I sat up between them and shoved them away from each other. Things quickly fell apart at that point. I started mumbling about waking up, and Harry started freaking out and ran from the room. Oliver pulled me onto his lap and started rocking me and apologizing to me. No wonder he rarely dated. It wasn't because he was in love with me at all.

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Harry actually left Oliver's flat that night without me. I was livid once I realized he had abandoned me, and I considered finishing what Oliver had started. He explained to me that he was bi-sexual, he really did have strong feelings for me, and he would gladly help me out if I wanted to lose my virginity. I think his open admission and sincere offer of sex was what actually sobered me up enough to stop things. I needed to talk to Harry, and I left for Grimmauld Place. After a terribly long night of crying and kissing and screaming and more crying, I ended our relationship. Harry admitted that he had been attracted to several wizards whilst he was in the states but had never acted on it. He also admitted that he and Oliver had shared some "intense" moments without me. He said he hadn't cheated, but it had been close enough that he felt guilty. As I was reeling from that revelation, he mumbled out some awful attempt at a proposal. He still wanted to marry me, but he thought maybe he should not be around Oliver any more. It was the idea that he couldn't handle the temptation of my best friend that made me realize I could never marry him. How could I ever be enough for him? And I sure as hell was not okay with waiting for him to explore these "urges" and then marry him - if he still wanted me. Despite what had happened earlier in the evening, I was not interested in sharing. In fact, the more sober I had become the more disgusted I was with myself. I'm still not sure how far I would have actually let things go. I like to think that I would have stopped things before it was too late. In the end, I walked away from Harry and told him to at least give me some time before he started dating anyone else. He stared at me as if I was crazy, and maybe I was, but I just knew that he would be going back to our friend.

Oliver moved in with Harry one year later. They are still blissfully happy together, and even my mum and dad are adjusting to Harry's new relationship. In fact, they have become heroes in the wizarding world for promoting acceptance of alternative lifestyles. That's all just wonderful, and I have no problems with any witch or wizard's preference, but it doesn't take away from the pain they both caused me. I lost my boyfriend and my best friend on the same horrific night. To be fair, Oliver did come to me several times checking to make sure I was okay with him even seeing Harry, and then dating Harry, and then moving in with Harry. But what was I supposed to say? No, if I can't have him, no one can?

I wish it hadn't affected me so deeply, but it did. I felt like I was no better than the discarded rubbish. I was so lonely and confused, but without either of them to talk to, I shut down. I pretty much gave up on me at that point. I started to think maybe I would start whoring it up, but I couldn't imagine myself really acting it out. Over time, I stopped trying at all. I put on some weight and then took it off several times over the next couple of years. I never went out with anyone or did anything special. I think my Weasley clock hand would have fallen off out of shock if I had ever done anything besides go from home to work and back again. Any insecurities I may have had before grew to the point that I became almost paralysed in my life. I simply existed.

And that is why I am, indeed, pathetic. Harry broke my heart, but I broke everything else. And I have simply disappeared into this life that I hate. I hate living with my parents. I hate working at the joke shop. I hate being alone. I hate being a virgin. And I hate not recognizing the witch in the mirror. Enough is enough, and it's time to reclaim my life.

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Thank you so much for reading! Please leave a review!

This is my first attempt at first-person, and I think this story feels very different than my previous two fics.

This fic does have an OOC Harry. Deal with it. :) I promise I don't hate him, and he will not be a negative force within this story.