Who Married Harry Potter Novels & Stories

What the hell just happened? Harry pulled me to the altar, everything still blur to me. "Harry, what happened? I thought we..." "Died? No, She missed a thing or two in her bomb trap and her mom injected her with some stuff that made her unconscious." "Oh...so we got lucky," I say, digesting the whole drama. "I can't still believe I almost got married to Anna," Harry says with a feeling of disgust. "Me too. I can't believe I'm having a crazy wedding." I laughed.

She told me with a friendly smile. 'LIkewise'. 'And this is Harry’s wife, Sarah, and their kids Duke, Emma and Piper'. I was more than surprised when Sarah stepped forward and pulled me into a hug. I automatically hugged her back and she pulled away. It wasn't awkward, just... unexpected. I looked up at Harry, after the conversation we had earlier about them being separated, it's nice to see them together now.

Sofia clutched Harry’s hand for support, pouting, “I don’t want to get married to someone that I haven’t even met.” I blinked. No, they have already agreed to this marriage. How could my sister have last-minute plans? “But your wedding is going to be tomorrow.” Harry smirked, “You know what’s worse? They say he’s gay and infertile. I couldn’t let your sister get married like that.”

But Harry didn’t pull a weapon. He pulled out a document. Thick. Official. Stamped. A marriage certificate. Don blinked. “What nonsense is this?” Harry turned it toward Elena first. Her hand flew to her mouth. “Harry… what is this?” “A way to protect you,” he murmured. “And Naomi. And us.” The room shrank. Her heart punched against her ribs. Their names were written clearly. Harry Dubois. Elena Rivera. Her breath trembled. “We’re… married?”

Harry asked, his eyes locked on mine, and I wasn't surprised. "Yes, I guessed the same applies to you," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper. "Yes, I met my newly wedded wife," Harry declared, his words sending a shiver down my spine. I was taken aback, unsure of how to react. "Don't tell me she's deceased," I exclaimed, my voice laced with shock and sadness. "I'm sorry," I apologized, feeling a deep sense of regret for his loss. "It's okay," Harry replied, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "She died last week. But there's nothing to worry about, anyway. I'll be joining her very soon."

"Isla, you look so pretty.” Sandra says to me, and I look at myself through the mirror. I do look pretty. I look beyond pretty. My cheeks look higher than they've ever looked before, and where my freckles are supposed to be, they seem spotless. I'm glowing; my hair is glowing; my aura is glowing. Every single thing about me is literally glowing. Why wouldn't they? It's my wedding day. Yes, Harry and I are finally getting married. We can’t keep living as co-parents and mates for the rest of our lives. We have to get her married. It took us three years to finally agree to it.

Hugging Emma's waist affectionately, Harry affirmed again, "Yes, today I officially introduced her to you all. Emma Garcia is my wife.” "Impossible. It's obvious you guys have only met for a few months, how can you guys become husband and wife?" The reporter spoke blankly into her microphone. Harry grinned sarcastically, his menacing voice was heard throughout the hall: "Really? How do you know we have only known each other for a few months? The first time we met was when I was only 8 years old. Who hired you to come here to attack her?” “I must know. Why? Because I was the one who posted your dating rumors. But you denied it all. Now you say that you guys have loved each other for a long ti

"The one my wife and I will be moving into after the wedding this evening?" James tossed a silver key ring across the room. I caught it effortlessly. "Are you even a little bit curious to see her?" James asked, shaking his head. "Your wife? Bro, you're actually getting married. D*mn. You're leaving me all alone in the single world." "It's five years," I replied coldly, sliding my silver Rolex onto my wrist. "She will be my wife just for show." Thirty minutes later, my cynicism faded into a blur of blinding camera flashes and low whispers.