Chapter 1 : I Married a Malfoy
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Was it really just three years ago when I completely despised the person I’m about to give the rest of my life to? Three years ago when he finally broke down and admitted why he’d been such a git to me the previous seven years? Three years ago when I decided to forgive and forget and date the bastard?
I think about all this now and realize just how rushed I feel. I’m only twenty years old! And getting married!? I mean, admittedly, my parents were only a year older than myself when they got married and had me just six months later. (Yes, that’s right, my mum was three months pregnant when she married my dad.) But their situation was completely different: They fought against, together with my Uncle Harry, the Dark Lord Voldemort. They’d had pretty much no life outside of fighting evil and wanted some structure, some normalcy. Quickly finishing up their education followed by a shotgun wedding and two kids was their way of coping with craziness.
According to my mum, who in the past few months mentioned this frequently when I felt that I was too young for this bollocks, she and my dad had been together three months before they got pregnant and married. But then, according to everyone else in the family, they should have skipped dating and married and had babies right away because they are perfect for each other. I can see it, too.
But, as selfish as this sounds, this day isn’t about them. I check myself in the full-length mirror in my room. I’m wearing the most beautiful white gown I’ve ever laid eyes on, my blusher failing to disguise just how bloody nervous I am, my bouquet colors picked by my favorite, and rather knowledgeable in these arts, cousin, Dominique (Kiki for short).
I’m thinking about wiping away some of this makeup she thought was a good idea when my brother, Hugo walks in wearing his black dress robes with a blue vest. He stops dead for a second, his jaw drops, and I turn around to look at him. “What?”
“Rosie, you’re beautiful.” He looks down at his shoes as he says this. He’s eighteen and he still can’t look his own sister in the face when giving her a compliment.
“Yeah, well, I feel completely in over my head.” I look back at the mirror, still messing with my blusher.
“I definitely have to agree with you on that one. Whoda thunk a Weasley would marry a –“
“Rose!” Kiki comes barging in, her blue bridesmaid dress impeccably clean and pressed. “What are you doing!? The ceremony is on in just a few minutes! Where’s your dad?”
“Honestly, I have no idea.” But now I’m panicking right along with my cousin. Where the hell is that man? And as if on cue, he walks up behind Kiki and says, “’Scuse me, Kiki. Can I have a look at my daughter?”
My father, all six foot, five inches and 230 pounds of muscle with flaming red hair (going grey in some areas), standing before me in his own black dress robes. I sigh exasperatedly. “Where’ve you been!?”
“You sound like your mother.” He chuckles but continues. “The only difference I see in her beauty the day she and I got married and your beauty is that you have red hair and you’re not pregnant.”
My father, always the tactful one…
I shake my head. “You’re not pregnant, right?” He immediately looks murderous.
“Oh dad, calm yourself. No, I’m not knocked up.” (I decide not to tell him that my dear fiancé and I are planning to start trying tonight. I am ovulating.)
“We’re wasting precious seconds! Uncle Ron, Rose, come on!” Kiki ushers us out of my bedroom and down the stairs into the living room and straight into the kitchen. I glance outside at the backyard and immediately feel sick to my stomach. My mother’s always said I have my father’s nerves. All those people out there sitting on white fold-up chairs, and most of them are family. Have I mentioned the Weasleys are a ridiculously large clan? I have only my grandparents to blame, who decided six boys and one girl were the perfect amount of children. I will only be having two, thank you very much, and my fiancé couldn’t agree more.
I squeeze my dad’s hand and then feel another on my waist. I nearly lose my marbles when I notice it’s my mom. She says to me, with tears in her eyes and a smile brighter than the day I became Head Girl, “You are so beautiful. That man is so lucky to be marrying someone as amazing as you. Intelligent, kind, beautiful, talented. You turned out exactly how I wanted to raise you.”
Wow, she’s really laying it on thick. Might as well soak it up: next time I get this much attention, I’ll be popping out her grandkid.
My dad snorts, “I’m not sure about intelligent. Look at the git she’s marrying. That whole family… Honestly, Rose, you’re lucky I even showed up.”
Before my mum could retort, her face screwed up in anger, Kiki came back with her clipboard and handed it over to one of the ushers. She said, in an official voice, “It’s time, Rosie. You ready?”
I swallow the lunch that was about to come up and simply nod. I grab my dad’s arm and we’re off. I honestly don’t remember much of anything else until I actually get to my fiancé’s hand. My father gives his usual look of “fuck with her, I fuck with you” and hands me over.
Just minutes later, I’m saying I do and bonded for life to the man I never thought I’d be with. Someone 90% of my family still don’t approve of. But we love each other, we row, we tease, we have sex (lots of sex), and he’s the only one I feel truly understands where I’m coming from. We shared a bloody dormitory in seventh year when I was Head Girl and he was Head Boy. Lots of laughs, tears, jealousy, and depression. We’ve been through it all. We know what we want from a relationship and we give each other just that. If only our fathers and our grandfathers were okay with it all.
Because of course, I married a Malfoy. Scorpius Malfoy.