She felt unspeakably lucky in that moment. It was an odd sensation, one distinctly alien. Luck had been something that she was sure had abandoned her on that fateful May night at Hogwarts, surrounded by corpses and their killers. She retained a shred of hope for the next twelve months, until the cleansing of the magical world hit full speed. Then that shred became a speck on her wedding day ... when not a single person had offered up an objection to her marriage to Ron, when she, herself, had so many. She could have lent someone one for the day. But no-one stepped forward and that ring, one size too small, was jammed painfully onto her finger, condemning her to years of misery and abuse.