A/N: Sorry I haven't published much in the last couple of weeks. It's been my birthday and then I've been busy with an ice-skating show. This is a new story so don't forget to R&R xx
Ginny Weasley sat upstairs in what had once been her bedroom. Her long red hair was twisted on top of her head. Atop her curls was an old sapphire-encrusted tiara which matched her long blue dress. She gazed into the mirror that occupied the space above her bed; she looked like a princess. This was the wedding she’d dreamt of since she was such a young girl. She’d grown up wanting to marry brave Harry Potter, with the scar on his forehead. Now her dream had come true.
She remembered the first time she met Harry. Properly, not just the time at King’s Cross but when she was eleven. That had been here, downstairs in the kitchen. She’d come downstairs in her threadbare pyjamas to find Harry sitting at the table. Well of course she’d been embarrassed. It was like finding the Queen in your kitchen. She looked back on that now as her mother re-did her hair, brushing it out into its stunning curls.
Ginny remembered how this room had been the place where she’d given Harry his seventeenth birthday present. How she’d kissed him and then it was ruined by Ron, the git. How she’d looked at him pleadingly, wishing he’d stay. But he left her.
That brought back memories of the war. Her first time on the Hogwarts Express without him; being tortured by the Carrows; screaming and screaming, begging them to stop. Ginny still had the scars. A scar on her chest, carved there by Amycus Carrow, the scar she had over her heart, the one shaped like a lightning bolt. They’d mocked her as they tortured her. She’d never forget their chants. But it had been worth it all for today. Today she could forget everything she’d been through, everything she’d given up for the war, everything she’d given up for him. Ginny Weasley had won. She would be his princess.
Suddenly the door opened to reveal Ginny’s best friend, Hermione Granger. She’d been the one who finally got Harry and Ginny together. “Chill out,” she’d said, “go out with some other boys, and show him you won’t be sticking around forever.” So she had. She’d dated Michael Corner, who’d been admittedly good looking with his blonde hair and blue eyes. All the girls had been after him (including Harry’s ex, Cho).
Then there was Dean. Ginny’s Dean. She would have married him if she hadn’t had her heart set on Harry. Dean was caring, kind, brave and handsome. But he wasn’t Harry. When Ginny kissed Dean there’d been fireworks, when she was with him she felt special. But Dean wasn’t Harry and Ginny couldn’t have him. Ginny knew Dean would be there today, it would be hard for both of them but he’d come for her because he cared. Ginny had been in contact with Dean all through the war, right up till he’d been captured. After he was saved he went to Shell Cottage, where he kept in touch. He’d been a shoulder to cry on; her rock. Harry hadn’t been there then. He’d left her, not the other way round, she thought. She loved him, but he’d been off finding horcruxes, being a hero, and she’d been left to face the harsh reality of war. She’d been beaten and tortured and hurt. But she was alive, and so was he and that was what mattered.
“Come on you two!” said Hermione, “Harry’s beginning to think he’ll be jilted at the altar!” Ginny laughed and stood up, Molly brushing her dress down. Hermione and Luna would be Ginny’s bridesmaids, along with Fleur and Angelina. Hermione was the maid of honour and Teddy Lupin would be a page-boy. Fleur’s baby, Victoire would be a bridesmaid, though Ginny honestly didn’t count her. Everyone Ginny had ever known would be there. She’d invited all her school friends, colleagues and family (there were far too many of them) as had Harry. The world was watching Ginny, and she had to be perfect.
“Time to go Ginny.” said her mother, helping her out of the chair. Ginny took a deep breath and walked downstairs. She entered the kitchen and walked through the door into the back yard. The wedding itself was being held in a field behind the house, although the entire garden looked different. The gnomes had been taken away and the grass had turned emerald green. The fence had been repainted a vibrant yellow, flower beds had been dug and now, in May, contained sunflowers.
The field contained a large yellow building which had been built over the past few weeks. In one room was a sort of altar, surrounded by chairs and in the next room was made up of tables on a dance floor. They would be levitated away when it was time for the dance.
Ginny walked to the building, Hermione and Luna behind her, her father beside her, her mother having gone ahead to sit down. Behind Hermione and Luna came Angelina and Fleur who held two-year-old Victoire. Behind her came Teddy who was accompanied by Ginny’s work-friend, Saffron’s son who was two years older than him. Once the party came to the church, Fleur placed Victoire on the floor, grabbed her hand, and allowed Angelina to take the other. Arthur took his wand from his pocket and opened the doors wide. Immediately all heads turned to face them. Some, like Neville’s, were obviously familiar, others, like Lisa Turpin, a Ravenclaw in Harry’s year, were less so. But to Ginny, whether she knew them or not, they’d be scrutinising her every move.
Yet as she walked towards Harry, surrounded by friends and family, Ginny stopped noticing the fact that she was being watched, that her hair was imperfect, that there would be pictures of her walking down the aisle like this all over the Daily Prophet tomorrow morning. Now, she was calm. All Ginny saw was Harry and she smiled as she walked towards him. She loved Harry and he loved her too. That was all that mattered.
Ginny came to stand beside Harry and Arthur, the bridesmaids, and Ron – the best man – sat down on the front row. Harry smiled down at her. “I love you, Ginny Weasley.” He whispered, inaudible to anyone but her.
“Do you, Ginevra Molly Weasley, take Harry James Potter to be your lawful wedded husband?”
Ginny looked into Harry’s green eyes, “I do.”