Beauty From Nothing
"Zip me up, would you?" Hermione asked, pulling aside her hair and turning away from Harry. He reluctantly set down his palette and brushes and crossed the room to zip up his wife's dress, being very careful not to nick her or get her hair caught in the teeth. He pressed a kiss to the white skin at the nape of her neck where the zip ended.
"Don't bother trying to distract me, Harry James Potter!" Hermione scolded. "You still have to get ready and the car comes in fifteen minutes! What are you painting anyway?" She turned to look at the canvas and felt a lump rise in her throat. "Oh, Harry."
A majestic ginger cat, his fur fluffed out so his already large form seemed to swell out of the canvas, gazed haughtily out at her, his eyes gleaming yellow-green. He looked as he had in his glory days of chasing away gnomes, dogs, other cats and suitors. This cat in the picture was the proud tom she'd faithfully defended from Ron's rages for seven years, not the benign, silver-furred, elderly cat with untrustworthy, arthritic joints, a diminished sense of hearing and a loud, droning purr.
"I hope you don't mind," Harry said, looking sheepish. "I took the picture from one of your photo albums." Hermione turned to him, tears glittering on her cheeks, washing away her so carefully applied eye make-up.
"I love it," she whispered. "Thank you." Harry took her face gently in his hands and kissed her tears away. "Now, go and put your new suit on, then get back in here so I can fix your hair!" Harry grinned and bounded up the stairs to their bedroom, where she heard him merrily singing Yellow Submarine as he extracted his new suit from the hopelessly over-crowded wardrobe.
They'd been married nearly eighteen months now and the ancient house had never looked so clean and cheerful. To Hermione's badly-concealed delighted satisfaction, the female nudes - excepting the one of her, which hung in their bedroom - had all been sold to a private dealer and earned them a few Galleons. Portraits still dominated the showroom, but now the subjects were fully-clothed and the scenes sweet. Hermione's two personal favourites were of Seamus and Dean, their matching gold wedding bands proudly on display, cradling their daughter - who, despite being just three months old at the time of painting, bore a striking resemblance to blonde Lavender, the surrogate mother - and one of Lavender herself, with her partner, Cho Chang, the two of them seated together cuddling a rotund golden labrador.
Hermione had supported Harry and mopped up his tears when Kreacher, after five years of devoted service to 'Master Harry', had died during the night. There had been a funeral that even a sceptical Ron had attended, during which Harry had made a touching speech, several bottles of Firewhisky had been emptied and many tears had been shed. Kreacher's white gravestone resided behind the house and Hermione laid fresh flowers on the earth every Sunday without fail.
Harry had similarly supported her when Crookshanks, who had comforted and unfailingly adored her for ten years, had finally staggered to a halt on his arthritic limbs and died peacefully in his sleep, tucked up in his basket with his blanket and his favourite toy - a squeaky rubber gnome. An even more sceptical Ron had been astonished to find himself sobbing unashamedly at the funeral when Hermione had been unable to finish her speech, choked by tears. Crookshanks had been buried beside Kreacher and Hermione also replaced the flowers on the grave every Sunday.
Their marriage had happened after the two deaths, in the bleak midwinter, to quote the song Luna had sung so beautifully at the reception. The service had taken place in the church in Godric's Hollow, where Harry's parents had married and Hermione's parents had renewed their vows after returning, memories returned, from Australia. Harry had worn his father's old suit, rescued from the wreckage of his childhood home and Hermione had restored her mother's yellowing lace with a charm, reducing Jane Granger to sobs as her daughter had floated up the aisle, glowing with happiness on her tearful father's arm.
Ginny, Neville and Luna had stuck by them throughout the months, Ginny providing endless comic relief and evenings by the fire with a bottle of wine, Neville giving sound advice and gentle suggestions and Luna voicing opinions and theories so absurd they were simply hilarious. Ron had vanished away after the disastrous art exhibition and the subsequent publicity - Rita Skeeter had written joyfully of Harry's Brawl With Closest Friend Over 'My 'Mione' - to Australia for Auror training. He'd returned a qualified Auror, tanned, speaking with an Australian twang and playing the didgeridoo. Hours spent with Luna in his garden teaching her how to throw a boomerang had turned into love that would, today, become a blissful marriage.
"Harry, hurry up!" Hermione called up the stairs, having covered the pictures, switched off the lights and collected her cloak and handbag. "The car's here, we need to go!"
"My hair won't lie flat!" Harry shouted. Hermione sighed heavily and began loudly tapping her foot in the way she knew really irritated him and usually galvanized him into action.
He appeared at the bottom of the stairs, looking grumpy, his tie knotted wrong and his hair sticking out at every angle as if he'd been electrocuted. Hermione giggled and removed a tub of her Sleakeazy's gel from her bag and, ignoring Harry's complaints about using 'girly hair gook', smoothed his hair down before grabbing his hand and dragging him out of the door into the hired Ministry car.
They arrived outside the church with minutes to spare. Hermione thanked the driver profusely and, ignoring Harry's face, tipped a shower of silver coins into his waiting hand. They were ushered inside by Mrs Weasley, who was looking worriedly at the grey sky and arguing noisily with Ruth, Luna's stepmother, over whether it was risky to have allowed the guests free access to the bar before the service.
"Hermione, you look lovely," Neville said, kissing Hermione's cheek as the Potters wandered over to greet the Longbottoms. "Harry, you got your hair to lie flat!" Ginny's loud exclamation of annoyance made Hermione laugh and a suddenly sheepish Neville help his heavily-pregnant wife out of her armchair.
"I love your dress," she said admiringly, gazing enviously at Hermione's gown, the same orange-gold as the leaves blowing past the windows. "Wish I could still get into things like that."
"You look absolutely beautiful, Ginny Longbottom, so don't complain," Hermione chided, admiring from every angle the coffee-coloured velvety dress Ginny wore, the material draping over her bump. The men watched their wives and, with roars of laughter, exclaimed over each others' ties.
"You seem to be having a good time already," Bill said, approaching them with a smile and a young boy acting as his shadow. "No, Louis, be good and go back to Maman." The angelic toddler pouted and shook his head.
"Look how big you're getting!" Ginny exclaimed, looking down into mischievous blue eyes. "Soon you'll be as tall as your Auntie Ginny! You should go and tell your Mummy that!" Louis nodded and toddled off to find Fleur.
"Thanks for that," Bill said gratefully. "Wasn't sure how I was going to shake him off. Have any of you seen Ron or Will? George has been at the brandy and already leered at some French cousins and Fred's vanished into the bushes with a bottle of whisky in one hand and Alicia in the other."
"They'll never learn to behave well at weddings," Ginny said disapprovingly, shaking her head. "Ron's probably camped out in the lavatory with a nervous stomach and Will's probably bonking the chief bridesmaid." Bill shook his head and walked off through the crowds in search of the wedding party.
"Do you remember how badly Fred and George behaved at your wedding?" Hermione asked, tittering slightly at the memory.
"Fred poured a bottle of wine over Cormac MacLaggen, told Great Aunt Muriel to go fuck herself when she banged on about the state of his hair and sent the cake flying when he was doing the twist with Alicia," Ginny listed, scowling, "and George was so drunk he thought the minister was a woman and kept calling the poor old man Doris!" Remembering the way the old minister had swelled like a bullfrog with indignation, Hermione couldn't help laughing.
"They gave us all a laugh," Neville said soothingly. "And the minister wasn't too upset after I paid him and gave him a bottle of champagne and several beautiful young women to keep him company through the evening."
"And it was hilarious when Great Aunt Muriel came storming through the crowd shrieking that Fred had sworn at her," Harry said with a chuckle.
"The old bat deserved it," Ginny said, narrowing her eyes as the same old bat, wearing purple and dripping in diamonds, stormed past, shrieking at unsuspecting guests to give her their chair.
"Hurry in, your four, it's time!" Bill said, returning with a firm grip on George's shoulder. "Ginny, Neville, you're second row back on the right side, with the family. Harry and Hermione, you're the fourth row back on the left side, with Luna's friends." He ushered them in and took his seat just as the first strains of Here Comes The Bride began to issue from the silver-jacketed band.
Everyone stood up, a few people frantically shushing frightened, whimpering children, and turned to look at the doors. Luna drifted in, clutching a bright bunch of sunflowers, her white dress trailing slightly on the carpet behind her. Xenophilius looked so proud, gazing down at his daughter and maintaining his composure even when Great Aunt Muriel shrieked, "By Godric, what is Xenophilius Lovegood wearing, he looks like an omelette!" They reached the end of the aisle and Xenophilius exchanged a few words with Ron, kissed Luna's forehead and left them standing together.
It was a beautiful wedding, though Hermione was ready to strangle Muriel Prewett by the time the vows were being made after she'd exclaimed in a carrying voice over low-cut dresses, speaking too quietly, gaudy engagement rings and 'silly pony-tailed men!'. Will, Ron's partner-in-solving-crimes, the best man and the silly, pony-tailed man in question, winked at Hermione with a wicked gleam in his eye and a piratical grin on his face.
"Do you, Ronald Bilius, take Luna Katrina?"
Hermione mopped her eyes fiercely, wishing she didn't cry without fail at every wedding she attended. Ginny, Molly and Ruth were all sobbing quietly into lace handkerchiefs, but Molly and Ruth were the mothers of the groom and bride respectively and Ginny had the excuse of raging pregnancy hormones that caused notorious mood swings.
"Then I do declare you bonded for life," the minister said in his lilting voice, waving his wand so red and blue sparks drifted onto Ron and Luna and they were momentarily cocooned in a golden web. Gold wedding bands appeared on their fingers as they turned, hands clasped, and began to walk back up the aisle, with the Wedding March accompanying every step. Luna's maid of honour, her colleague and close friend, Ivana, didn't look at all unhappy about having to link up with Will for the return down the aisle.
Hermione stifled a giggle as, seeing the mistress he adored and the man who so often visited them, Terry, the adorable little terrier, gave a joyful yap of recognition and ran down the aisle towards Ron and Luna. Seeing this as the green light, the other dogs - beloved pets brought by people who couldn't bear to leave them out of the festivities - ran down the aisle, nearly knocking over the bridal party, to locate their owners.
When the last of the bridal party had left, the doors banged shut and the rest of the guests were left to find their own way to reception and gain control of their pets. Cho and Lavender's labrador, Pandora, was being frantically shushed as she barked happily and lay, panting, at Cho's feet.
"Let's go and find some party," Fred said, clearly very drunk, as he tripped over himself walking into the hall where the reception would be held. "I need a drink!"
"It's quite clear you've had enough already," Bill muttered, steering his troublesome brother in the direction of the soft drinks, away from the bar.
"Let's go and congratulate them," Ginny said. "It's our duty, after all." Harry and Hermione followed Ginny and Neville through the crowds, pushed through the knot of friends and reached Ron and Luna.
"Here, they will bring you luck," Luna said, presenting each of them with a sunflower. Ron smiled indulgently as her and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
"It was such a beautiful wedding," Hermione said, putting the flower behind her ear. "I was crying buckets. Congratulations."
"And you both look wonderful," Ginny continued, putting her own flower through the band that held back her hair. "Unusually so in your case, Ronald."
"Don't push your luck, Ginevra," Ron said, pretending to punch her arm. "You and Neville are sitting at our table for the meal and you, Harry and Hermione, are next to Seamus and Dean on table eight." Harry and Hermione nodded and took their seats beside the two men, Hermione exclaiming over how adorable their daughter was.
"How old is she now?" she asked, looking at the face that resembled Lavender's in miniature.
"Seven months," Seamus said proudly. "Mam loves her, she was very upset when we married that she wouldn't get any grandchildren."
"Rosemary approves of the name we gave her too," Dean said, laying down the menu to smile at his daughter. "Violet, our little princess."
"A different shade of purple from her mother," Harry quipped. Dean grinned and nodded.
"Anyway, how are you two?" Seamus asked, after a moment of gazing at Violet's blonde-haired, blue-eyed perfection. "Expecting your own little darlings any time soon?" Harry choked on the gulp of wine he'd just taken, spraying the table with flecks of red.
"No, I'm not pregnant," Hermione answered, handing Harry a napkin.
"Are you trying?" Seamus asked, fixing his gaze on Hermione.
"A little," Hermione said, wriggling uncomfortably in her seat. Seamus seemed satisfied with this answer and turned to Harry.
"Sold anything good lately?" he asked. "Painted anything lovely that we might want to know about first?"
"I've just sold a painting of the fountain in the Ministry to Umbridge," Harry said, shivering at the mention of the name. "She outbid every other interested party and in the interest of money I sold it to her. We're giving Ron and Luna a painting as a wedding present." He lowered his voice as curious guests looked round at them. "I have a few paintings you may like. Drop by the house this weekend and we can haggle." Seamus nodded.
"You've grown so famous," Dean said. "I heard about you selling a lot of paintings to Si Greenberg. What were they of?"
"Nudes I did before Hermione and I were together," Harry said cheerfully. "I didn't want them cluttering up the house any more so I sold them."
"Loved that painting you did of us, got it hanging in the kitchen," Dean told him as plates of food floated across the room to them. "It's a good talking point when guests drop in."
"I'll offer you a portrait of Violet for twenty Galleons, if you want one," Harry said, thoughtfully examining the prongs of his fork.
"That's too little," Seamus said, shaking his head. "Even for close friends. Fifty Galleons."
"Forty."
"Forty-five."
Hermione shook her head in exasperation and turned away from the haggling men to the steaming bowl of soup in front of her. Dean caught her eye and winked before returning to his own starter.
Eventually Seamus and Harry settled on a price of thirty-five Galleons for a portrait of Violet and finished their soup just in time, as trays piled high with plates of chicken and vegetables drifted out of the kitchen. Hermione looked up at the top table and saw them all laughing together.
"Here comes the bride, short, fat and wide, wiggling her big backside," sang an extremely drunk George, waving his chicken drumstick in time. There was an absolute, horrified silence before Luna, difficult to offend, giggled and moved down the table to sit beside her new brother-in-law. She soon joined him in a rousing chorus of Odo the Hero that reduced the entire room to laughter when Terry began howling along.
"Hello, boys," Lavender said, wandering over from the table she was sitting at with Pandora, a large piece of chicken dangling from her jaws, following behind her. "How's my lovely daughter?"
"She's really good," Dean said, handing Violet over so Lavender could look at her. "She's starting to eat solids but she stills prefers her bottle."
"I'm glad she has two such wonderful men to look aft her," Lavender said, smiling down at the little girl who closely resembled her. "Cho and I are thinking of adopting."
"Oh, no, you mustn't!" Seamus said, horrified. "One of us will be your donor as repayment of you carrying this little angel for nine months." Lavender smiled and, bending down, kissed both of them twice on each cheek.
"How dreadfully French of her," Dean observed as she weaved back through the crowds to her table.
"She picked up the habit when she and Cho holidayed there," Seamus explained. "Oh, look, I think the bride's about to throw her bouquet." A crowd of single women had gathered around Luna, jostling each other and screaming for Luna to aim at them. Smiling serenely, Luna threw the bunch of sunflowers straight over the heads of the clamouring crowd so they landed neatly in Ivana's lap. Blushing furiously, she looked up and hastily looked down at her feet again as Will grinned at her.
"Time to unveil the presents, I expect," Dean said, getting to his feet. "Come on, let's go and see all the loot they've got."
A pile of presents was just waiting to be opened as a crowd gathered to watch. Luna was enchanted to discover, inside a squeaking, wriggling box, a tiny Yorkshire Terrier puppy from Cho and Lavender.
"He will be a friend for Terry!" she exclaimed joyfully, lifting the squirming creature into her arms. "I will name him Ollie."
They received everything from washing machine to curtains for the home they would set up together. Ron's parents gifted them seeds for their garden, covers for their bed and a large box of meat pies. Harry and Hermione's present was the last to be unwrapped, a large rectangular canvas that contained a picture composed of three different scenes.
In the first, a beautiful blonde woman was kneeling on the ground in the moonlight, a little dog identical to Terry capering around her while a man in the background, his only certain feature his red hair, looked wistfully at her. In the second, the man had come into the foreground, the dog looking thoughtfully at him as he took the woman's hand and she gazed wonderingly at him. In the third, they were kissing as the little dog leapt joyfully around them, his white fur even whiter against the black night. There was a spontaneous round of applause as people gazed at it.
"It's beautiful," Luna breathed, reaching out to touch her painted face. "With the moonlight and the flower and Terry. Thank you." She turned and embraced Harry, stretching up to kiss his cheek. Ron looked up from the painting with wet eyes and there was an awkward moment of silence between the two men.
"Congratulations, mate," Harry said. "I hope you'll be very happy with Luna. You deserve it after what Hermione and I, but mostly me, put you through."
"Thanks," Ron said stiffly. A moment later, they were Ron's head was on Harry's shoulder as he cried, Harry patting his back comfortingly. All around, scores of handkerchiefs were raised and the sounds of nose-blowing came from all sides.
"So sweet," Lavender murmured to Hermione's right. "I always hoped they'd reconcile."
The reception continued with Fred and George's ridiculous drunken antics, the smashing of wedding cake into Ron's face and plenty of dancing and kissing. Within two hours, the rose bushes outside were all occupied and the only couples still inside were the older generation, Neville and Ginny, who was far too pregnant to consider rose bushes, when in the old days she would have been first to find one, Ron and Luna, swaying under the spotlight and Harry and Hermione, talking about their home.
The day concluded with a mass exodus of couples from the rose bushes and into hired cars, much kissing of cheeks and hugs exchanged and pleas to drop in if anyone was ever in the area. Harry and Hermione returned to Grimmauld Place to retire immediately to the bedroom, leaving fires burning in their grates and Mrs Black screaming behind her soundproofed curtain.
OK, so this was a sequel to The Way The Light Just Catches, hopefully not as crazy and strange as its prequel!
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