The excitement of the situation grew and spiraled until it was out of control; a beast with no sense of direction or purpose. The atmosphere was so palpable that one could almost taste it on the air, a unique blend of giddiness, nervousness and fervently praying that nothing would go wrong to spoil such a wonderful day. The latter was almost laughable, knowing that this was a wedding of a half werewolf (of sorts) and a part Veela. If the wedding did go perfectly on technical terms, then they would eat their own hat.
The mood of anticipation had gotten to Harry at least, who was anxiously glancing over at the direction of the Burrow, where Hermione had dashed off to help Ron’s with final preparations for catering and seating. Ron and Harry had been sneaking secret dips into the post-wedding snacks, but were chased off by a rather flustered McGonagall brandishing her wand and threatening to turn them both into snowshoe hares.
All in all, Harry was rather confident that it would be a good wedding, calamities aside. The chairs had been arranged and bewitched by Flitwick to resemble a row of church pews, which was quite fitting for the occasion. Bright, twinkling rays of pure magical energy, for decorations, created quite a stunning spectacle for even the most mediocre onlooker. They comforted Harry in an odd way, and he was staring at them play around the area as if they were live spirits for a while until Ron broke the spell. “Normally experienced wizards don’t like to be flashy unless it’s a very special occasion.” He said, chuckling.
“And?” Harry said, taking his eyes off the nearest one, which was doing backflips in mid air.
“Whoever did this wasn’t experienced, and this is most definitely a special occasion.”
“No argument here.” Harry said.
Ron seemed about to say something else when his mother called out at them both from the Burrow some distance away. “RONALD! HARRY! DRESS ROBES!” Her voice sounded as if it had been magically amplified.
Both of them cringed inwardly, as everyone who was watching ceased what they were doing and stared at them momentarily. Some smothered giggles, vaguely identifiable as Fred and George, came from behind one of the hedges.
“I take my leave.” Ron said mock regally to them, then added to Harry in a lower tone. “Harry, don’t suppose you’re carrying a Decoy Detonator on you?”
Harry eyed him in despair. “No. Too much of a waste anyways.”
As they stood up to go change back in the Burrow, Ron nudged Harry and indicated something that looked remarkably like a very ugly statue not far off.
“Is that –“ began a incredulous Harry.
“Grawp.” Ron said, chuckling nervously. “Hope he doesn’t get peeved and decide to rip a sapling up and toss it at Bill and Fleur when they’re saying their vows.”
“Now that you bring it up, it’s quite possible.” Harry said mildly. Ron groaned.
“What possessed Hagrid to bring a giant to a wedding?”
Harry laughed, not remotely worried. There was plenty of able-bodied wizards able to suppress Grawp if a tantrum or other violent behavior indeed show up. Besides, Grawp trusted Hagrid, from what Harry had witnessed in his fifth year, and would very likely back down if Hagrid got upset.
“Knowing Hagrid, he’d probably say that the emotion and civility of a wedding will do him good.” He said thoughtfully. Having known Hagrid over six years, Harry had gotten to know his way of thinking.
“Civility, my foot!” Ron snorted. “The day he gets Grawp to sit down peacefully and have a pleasant afternoon tea, I’ll eat an Acid Pop.”
“You’ll eventually remember saying that, Ron.” Harry smiled slightly. “I think we both will.”
“You’d better hurry up,” Mrs. Weasley urged them as they neared the front door. “Fluer’s already changing into her wedding robes and Bill’s’ already changed, now get a move on! Quickly!”
“How’s he look?” Ron said, rushed.
“Brilliant, brilliant.” Said Mrs. Weasley impatiently. “Hurry along, now.”
Harry and Ron took the steps two at a time to their room, but before Harry could step in, Ron held out an arm and held him back. “Wait a minute. You can’t go in there.”
Harry stared at him, not comprehending. Ron, not offering an explanation, instead closed his eyes and raised his wand, which erupted a peculiar yellow aura. The aura instantly swept the breadth of the room and returned with a hovering Dungbomb, obviously armed. Ron disarmed it and carelessly tossed it aside.
”Trap Charm.” Ron said, grinning. “Hermione taught it to me a while ago.
“Handy.” Harry said, impressed.
They changed into their dress robes quickly, Ron shifting uncomfortably in his.
“Fred and George spent 5 galleons and three sickles on this, and yet it rides down a bit low where it shouldn’t.”
“Tell me about it.” Harry sighed, forcing his legs through. “This set is getting awfully tight around the waist.”
They quickly struggled into their robes as best as they could, Harry frantically running a comb through his hair to no effect as they ran out. In fact, they were so unconsciously possessed with the desire not to be the ones to hold the wedding up that they ran slap bang into Hermione and Ginny on the second landing on their way out, almost causing a mad, out of control scramble.
“RON!” Ginny screamed.
“OUCH!” Ron yelled in reply, clutching his nose.
Harry picked himself off the floor, brushing his dress robes off carefully. He had avoided the worst of it, but Ron was sporting a minor bruise and Ginny had torn the sleeve of her deep violet dress robes.
“Who punched me?” growled Ron.
“Sorry!” Hermione said, mortified. “I was trying to grab a handrail and I guess, well…your face got in the way.” She quickly tapped his nose with her wand and the bruising disappeared.
Harry checked the time. “We’re late, let’s go.”
As they rose to their feet, Harry added to Ginny, whispering in her ear. “You look great.”
She grinned happily, very pleased. Recalling formal protocol, he offered his arm to her like a gentleman, which she took. Ron did likewise with Hermione.
”Well, what’s this?” Hermione said, bemused but not displeased.
Harry shrugged. “We’re going to be last anyways. I say we arrive in style.”
And arrive in style they apparently did, because as they walked between the rows of pews to take their seats, there was a round of scattered applause.
“Classic chivalry isn’t dead in the magical world, is it?” Harry asked Hermione.
She smiled and shrugged. “It doesn’t seem dead to me.”
great really great. i think you are pushing Ginny and Harry together a little too much. but if that is where you are taking that route, than be my guest...
Your reasoning is understandable too; It's just the situation though, it's dark times in their world, but they have this one day of happiness and warmth before they're all thrust back into the maelstrom. Let them enjoy themselves.
You could say that. (Looking fantabulous, by the way)
i read the first 2 posts of this and its very good ...the only problem is that voldemort would not have let malfoy live after his failure to kill Dumbledore...but that was prolly mentioned already
__________________ fear the epic might of Jack Stills
Author's Note - Here it is, if you don't all cry like babies then you're all insane! INSANE!
Just kidding, here it is. Hopefully you enjoy it. Less of the quadruple posts as well, if you please.
Harry looked around for Bill and saw him standing at the front, handsome despite the blatant scarring over his face. He was wearing the traditional groom’s short-trimmed black robe. Charlie was his best man; fidgeting awkwardly off to the side. Slughorn, oddly enough, would be performing the ceremony as the priest; Fleur and Bill had requested it to be so for some reason. He had lost much weight since the last time Harry had seen him. How Harry wished that Dumbledore himself could have been up there…
“Where’s Fleur?” he asked Ginny, glancing around.
“Well, she’s behind that veil over there,” Ginny said, indicating a purple silk veil that hid the imminent bride.
Harry nodded, just as soon as ‘The Wedding March’ piped up, loud and clear. Gabrielle Delacour, being the youngest, was flower girl. Just like her elder sister, she moved with absolute confidence and dignity, yet not to the point where arrogance showed. Flicking her wand discreetly, she sent petals of wonderful, fragrant, colorful flowers into the audience’s head and laps.
And then…the bride herself.
She was the absolute image of perfection, the flower among weeds, the Light of Lights. If any single non-human being could strive and succeed to look a fraction as beautiful as she appeared to them right now, they would have achieved the impossible. When she breathed, she made the guests breathless. Charismatic, yet apparently completely oblivious for once to what she appeared to be to her admirers. The only one she could obviously see was Bill, standing proudly near the alter. Harry noticed that she was wearing an old-fashioned shawl, recently dyed white.
“That’s our Great Auntie’s shawl.” Ginny whispered in his ear.
She finally approached the altar and stood by silently and anxiously, not saying a word. Everyone’s eyes went off Fleur, and Slughorn, who had stepped forward to begin his speech.
“It is an unusual day and under certain circumstances are we here today, to celebrate a special event, one that is to be remembered for a very long time. We are here today to join Mr. Bill Weasley and Ms. Fleur Delacour in holy matrimony.
“I must admit, it didn’t seem like a very promising relationship at first. They spent a lot of their time in my office visiting me and asking for advice, which I did my very best to provide at the time. Their parents seemed rather opposed to this; the mother’s comments translated roughly to “YOU’RE MARRYING A WHAT?”, followed by the father’s cumulative comments of something along the lines of “COME BACK HOME, THIS MINUTE.”
There was a moment of appreciative chuckling. Harry snuck a glance at the parents in question. Mrs. Weasley coughed nervously, and a tall French man, Fleur’s father, blushed.
“Ah, it seemed like perilous domestic times indeed. The groom swore, the bride bawled – (Fleur grinned abashedly under her bride’s veil and Bill looked down at his feet) – but despite all appearances and odds, despite everything that their parents believed in, they had one secret weapon with them that they carried at all times. And it is not something to be underestimated.”
Harry realized he had been holding his breath.
“They had their love for each other,” Slughorn said. His eyes were suddenly filled with more life, with more purpose, than Harry had seen in any human being. He spoke differently, with more grace, dignity and poise. “And indeed, that was all that was needed. Love is the single, greatest shield in this universe. And they have prevailed.”
There were several sniffles and tears.
“Make no mistake, my friends,” he continued, his strong voice suddenly sounding old. “These are no longer times of laughter, times of peace. But today, today we defy those things to take the time to allow one day of happiness for these two.” His voice began to waver. “I am…so very, extremely proud of them both for what they have managed to accomplish for each other, and for all of us. And I am so very proud and honored to be standing here today…to congratulate them on what they have managed to achieve.”
There was a moment of silence were almost everybody, Harry included, had a bit of emotional tears. It was such a special moment and Harry felt wonderful to have been included. The magnitude of the time could not have possibly been described in words; even Dementors would probably have fed themselves bloated and there would be so much more happiness left over.
Harry looked over at Ron, who was weeping unabashedly with joy. He, out of most of his family, probably understood what his brother and Fleur had to go through. Almost all of Ron’s own family had rejected the two quite obviously behind their own backs…but here they were now. They were happy. And they were together. What more could possibly have been asked?
It was quite touching to see that the Delacour and Weasley families, initially huffy towards each other, think of each other as loved ones and family now. Mrs. Weasley was sobbing into Mr. Delacour’s shoulder, who embraced her as if he had known her his whole life.
Slughorn finally composed himself and took both their hands, spreading them out to the crowd. He turned to Fleur. “Now repeat after me, Fluer.”
She nodded, blinking back tears herself.
“I, Fleur Delacour…take you, Bill Weasley, to be my lawfully wedded husband, to love from this day forward…in times of sickness and in health…for richer or poorer…and I will be with you, in times of joy, and sorrow. I promise…to love you unconditionally, to support you in your goals, to honor and respect you, to laugh and cry with you, and to hold and cherish….until death do us part.”
She did so, wavering sometimes, but each word spoken with such sincerity and strength that not a single soul could have even remotely thought differently.
Slughorn turned to Bill, standing proud and tall, trembling slightly. “Now repeat after me, Bill.”
“I, Bill Weasley…do take you, Fleur Delacour, to be my lawfully wedded wife, my partner in life…and my one, true love. I promise to love you more than the day I did before. I will be proud to be there to cherish you, to nurture you, to age with you…to spend the rest of my life with you. In times of failure or triumph. In times of joy or sadness….until death do us part.”
He said it word for word. Like Fleur, his voice was shaking at times but his voice had never been so mature, so filled with purpose.
And not a single soul watching breathed. The moment had come.
“By the power vested in me,” Slughorn said, voice breaking ever so slightly. “I pronouce you husband….and wife. You may now kiss the bride.”
Bill and Fleur kissed quickly, then fairly leaped into each other’s arms and held tight amid thunderous applause and deafening cheers.
“And so come the days of marriage,” said Slughorn. “May they be blessed.”
Fleur’s mother stood up. She had aged very well, beautifully dressed with a light dress robe of pale red, artfully decorated with beads. Mrs. Delacour came up to the front, had them kneel, placed her hands upon their heads, and sang a tune of Ave Maria in French. Harry had not a clue what the words meant, but language did not matter at that time. He knew that the bride and groom had been blessed.
“Acclamez Mary, complète de grace
Le Seigneur est avec vous;
L'art béni vous parmi les femmes et bénit êtes le fruit de votre utérus, Jésus.
Mary sainte, la Mère de Dieu, prie pour nous des pécheurs,
maintenant et à l'heure de notre mort."
“Amen.”
She went to sit down, smiling graciously amid loud applause; the Weasleys being loudest. Mrs. Delacour was their kind of woman.
Mr. Weasley came up to present them with two intricately carved wooden pendants, glowing like crystal that would allow them to be able to speak to one another whenever they wished, no matter how great the distance, despite any bewitchments or charms that would not allow such things as communication and Apparition.
“The magic of Love is the strongest, most ancient magic of all. It is pure, clean, untainted; it has saved lives.” He took both their hands. “It has certainly saved mine.”
Bill embraced his father, sniffling. “Thanks, Dad.”
Mr. Weasley also sat down amid cheering and applause, the Delacours being loudest of all. Mr. Weasley was their kind of guy.
KMC Community Forums
Jan 9th, 2007 11:36 PM
Thanks for the input(yours is valued most).
It's just the situation though, it's dark times in their world, but they have this one day of happiness and warmth before they're all thrust back into the maelstrom. Let them enjoy themselves.
(Looking fantabulous, by the way)
*showers with kisses*
