As we walked down the stairs, Dom, my maid-of-honor, held my hand, leading me to my father.
We had decided that this was the best way to do it, because I zoned out a lot, with flashbacks or fantasies, and I was typically klutzy, which caused me to fall or crash into stuff very often.
My wedding day was the one day I did not need to fall on my face.
At least until the reception.
When we got to the door that led to the outside Dom released my hand and looked me in the eye, whispering, "Try not to zone out, Rosie, just this once..."
She grinned and I nodded, rolling my eyes at my cousin.
She glided out after my bridesmaids were gone, gripping the best man (my cousin Al)’s hand.
I counted to ten, moved up to my dad, and clutched his arm, as I whispered, "Daddy, it's time."
He nodded gruffly, and began to lead me outside.
As we walked into view of the people, I heard gasps.
Everyone watched me as my father slowly led me down the aisle, having been practicing walking to the beat of the music for months now.
There were plenty of surprised faces that I’d decided to get married in a dress –I’m not known for being girly.
I just smiled vaguely at all of them, surprising them more with the fact that I wasn’t forced into it.
I knew people thought I was pretty (not to sound conceited or anything) but I had spent most of my life in guy clothes.
I just didn't like girl clothes. My female cousins and my best friends were all very girly, and in Hogwarts, we had many arguments about how I should dress and act more girly. You know, pretend I was an actual girl.
Whenever they got particularly annoying, I just went to sleep in guy cousins' dorm.
They had no issue about my guy-ness. I had the faint suspicion that my guy cousins preferred the fact that I hid under baggy sweats and old t-shirts rather than dressing like a whore (coughDomcough).
In my sixth year, a lot of people saw me coming out of all three dorms in the mornings, laughing and smiling, thus giving me the title of the school slut.
Well, I hate being called a slut. Because, to be honest, I’m really not. Any time a guy called me that, I punched him, and if a girl dared call me that to my face, they were bitch-slapped.
After about a month, there were a lot of people with a black eye or a handprint on their faces, girls and guys alike. I did get sick of hitting people, though.
One day at lunch in the Great Hall, I stood up on the table and made an announcement, much to Al’s embarrassment.
My unplanned speech went, "A lot of you people have recently been calling me the lovely nickname of –sorry professors – ‘School Slut’." I’d paused, and saw Professor McGonagall letting her head drop onto the table, "Well the thing is, I don't really like that name, as some of you may have noticed," I’d looked pointedly at a few of the kids who had the newest marks on their faces, "I am actually not a slut, contrary to whatever you may believe; I'm still a virgin, and I happen to be proud of it. It means I haven't given myself over to the blokes like that yet. So quit with the ridiculous name-calling. Call me something that fits me better, like, uh, Happy, or, One Of the Guys, or, Loveable, " a lot of people snorted at that last one and I’d let my face drop into a wry look as I finished quickly with a, " Thanks for listening."
With that, I had jumped off the table, sat down, and started eating. I had ignored the stares on me and listened happily as the noise slowly started up again. No one ever called me a slut to my face again.
I was startled back into reality as my dad's warm hands slowly put my into familiar but slightly colder hands.
"Take care of her," My dad whispered, looking at my future husband with something akin to acceptance –and a little respect. Anyone willing to handle me for life had to be respected.
I watched as he nodded his head, and then looked down at me.
I stared into his eyes as they portrayed his emotions to me as he walked me up to the altar.
Happiness. Triumph. Passion. A little smugness. And a soft, sweet love that had been there since we were 14, but had, until this day, been covered up with his cool, calm mask.
As the priest started talking, I looked into his eyes and was transported to another flashback.
"I love you," he said.
We were sitting by the lake, at the tree that so many of my previous generations had sat at. I was midnight, full moon.
"What?" I whispered.
He had never told me that before.
"I love you," he repeated easily, with confidence, and a small smile upon his lips.
"I love you too," I said, thrilled at the words.
He cupped my face gently with his hands, and slowly brought his face down to my level. His lips and mine were just seconds apart when–
Suddenly I was back in the present. I looked around to Dom, who was smirking at me, and patting her arm, where her wand lay hidden, strapped across her forearm.
I glared at her briefly before turning back towards the front.
"Do you, Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy, take Rose Nymphadora Weasley to be your wedded wife? To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness, or in health, to love and to cherish, 'til death do you part. And hereto you pledge her your faithfulness." The priest asked.
"I do," Scorpius's voice rang clear through the church.
"Do you, Rose Nyphadora Weasley, take Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy to be your wedded husband? To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness, or in health, to love and to cherish, 'til death do you part. And hereto you pledge him your faithfulness." The priest asked.
I looked around the church, glancing at my family.
My mom and Astoria were sobbing into each others' shoulders, while their respective husbands tried in vain to comfort them.
My cousins looked really happy for me, and some still slightly in awe that I was actually in a dress.
And my besties were dabbing gently at their eyes.
I glanced at the groomsmen, and at Al, who nodded his head encouragingly, before looking back at Scorpius.
"I do," I declared clearly.
As my new husband leaned into kiss me, I smiled as I heard Hagrid's and Grawp's trumpeting sobs. As our lips met, I melted into the familiar kiss, and I was home.
6.6.11: Yes, I revamped this one a bit as well. I'm going through the lot. Is it any better or is it all in my head?