24 June 2000
Arthur woke up with a start. Blinking rapidly, he looked around. Molly was still curled tightly into her blankets on his left, and with a glance at his wristwatch, Arthur knew she wouldn't wake for another hour at the least. But in the back of his mind, Arthur knew that he wouldn't be able to fall back asleep. Not that morning.
For a fleeting moment, Arthur considered waking Molly up, simply to share what was on his mind. But then, he decided against it almost immediately. Molly didn't need anyone else to worry about that day—least of all, Arthur.
Sighing softly, Arthur slowly dragged himself out of the the warm cocoon of his comforter. Taking care not to make any unnecessary creaks and thuds, he tiptoed across the threshold, and quietly sidled out the door of the guest bedroom, pausing at the frame—as he had done, every morning, since he and Molly had begun living together—to glance back at his wife. She was always most peaceful when she slept; she looked twenty years younger, her face less lined. It was difficult to imagine that in just a few short hours, she'd be dashing frantically around the house in preparation for the imperative event that would soon take place on the nearby beachfront, along the beautiful coastline.
Giving his head a little shake, Arthur pushed the thought to the back of his mind. He couldn't think about it just yet.
Shell Cottage's corridors were dark, and the hushed stillness of the early morning, coupled with the faint smell of sea salt, lingered in the air. Arthur drank it all in blissfully. He turned to squint out the nearby landing window; the the faintest rays of sunlight were just beginning to edge out from behind the cliff. And beyond the cliff, Arthur could see the bluish-green of the sea, lapping deliciously up against the rocks. It was a breathtaking sight. His daughter couldn't have picked a more beautiful location to get married…
Arthur stiffened. Then, he closed his eyes and released a slow breath.
His daughter was getting married that afternoon.
And of course, Arthur was positively ecstatic. He had never seen Ginny as happy as she had been in the past six months. And Harry was already as good as a son, in his eyes…
…But Ginny was his youngest, his only girl, just eighteen years of age…and deep down, Arthur knew that he wasn't quite ready to let that go…
Stifling a yawn behind his hand, Arthur padded stealthily down the staircase and turned right to continue into the sitting room, where Charlie, Percy, George, and Ron were all tucked into their sleeping bags, sound asleep. Bill and Fleur's home, albeit cozy and welcoming, was small; there hadn't been nearly enough beds for everyone in the family. Arthur smiled at the sight of his sons lying in an untidy heap, slumped across the carpet. It reminded him of nights, long since passed, of bedtime stories and living room fortresses…of Princess Ginevra and her six knights in shining armor…
Suddenly, Arthur froze. A gas lamp had been lit in the adjacent dining room. Instinctively, Arthur's fingers closed around his wand…but as he padded silently towards the dining room and peered covertly towards the table, he released a breath of relief he hadn't known he was holding.
A petite, freckled girl with a long mane of red hair was sitting alone at the table, her hands closed around a mug of tea.
She jumped slightly as Arthur entered the room. But the moment her eyes met his, her face split into a warm smile.
"'Morning, Daddy," Ginny said softly.
"Hello, sweet pea."
"What are you doing down here so early?" she asked with a frown.
Arthur quirked an eyebrow. "I could ask you the same thing, young lady."
"But I asked you first," Ginny said in an amused voice, and Arthur knew he had lost. Then again, Arthur couldn't remember having ever won an argument against his daughter.
"I couldn't sleep," Arthur admitted with a soft sigh.
"Pre-wedding jitters?" Ginny joked, eyes sparkling.
Arthur rolled his eyes—in spite of the truth in her words. "Don't worry about me," he said gently. He reached across the table and took her left hand in his. The diamond on her ring finger sparkled enchantingly in the dim torchlight, drawing Arthur's eyes. "How are you feeling?"
Ginny shrugged, staring down at the ring, as well. Then, she looked up and caught his gaze, suddenly serious. "I always knew I'd marry him, Daddy."
Arthur looked into her bright brown eyes—Molly's eyes—and believed her. He swallowed the sharp twinge in his throat and smiled.
"And I'm very happy for you, sweet pea."
"Victoire, what does Maman 'ave to do to make you sleep, ma petite?"
"Audrey, I've lost the rings! They were right here! I just had them!"
"Percy, for Merlin's sake, they're right behind you!"
"Hermione, get the door! Merlin's beard, who could possibly calling at this time?"
"Andromeda, it's Teddy—oh, no! His nose is bleeding!"
"Ron! George! Did you two leave those stupid Skiving Snackboxes lying around?"
It was less than five hours later, but Shell Cottage had already begun to resemble a madhouse. People were scurrying about in every imaginable direction, and in the midst of it all, Molly was standing on an armchair, bellowing orders to anyone who would listen. Arthur couldn't help but wince slightly, as she finally rounded on him, expression blazing.
For a moment, she merely stared at him. She didn't say a single word, though Arthur was sure that he had seen her eyes soften. But if Molly had guessed what was on his mind, she was tactful enough not to mention it. Instead, she simply hopped off of her armchair, leaned up, and kissed his cheek before hurrying away.
Arthur had only a few moments to marvel at his wife's remarkable intuition before he was swallowed up by his sons, all of whom were whooping and clapping him soundly on the back.
"Father of the bride!"
"How's it feel, Dad?"
"Has anyone seen Potter yet? I want to see Dad give him a stern talking-to!"
Arthur shook his head and forced a laugh.
As if on cue, Harry himself entered the sitting room, a dazed grin on his face. His appearance was immediately greeted by a profusion of loud wolf-whistles from Arthur's five sons. They pounced on him, engulfing him in a bizarre combination of tight embraces and painful headlocks. Arthur was grateful for the distraction; glancing around, he quietly slipped out of the room and towards the staircase—not aware that someone's eyes had followed his departure.
Just as he was about to ascend the first step, Arthur heard someone call his name. Frowning, he turned around, and came face-to-face with a pair of startlingly green eyes.
"Harry?" Arthur blinked, surprised. "What's the matter?"
Harry bit his lip, looking upset. Then, he sighed. "It's probably nothing," he said in a low voice, shaking his head, "But…well, recently, I haven't been able to shake the feeling that you aren't very pleased with the idea of me marrying Ginny."
Arthur's eyes widened. But then, a wry smile lifted the corners of his lips. "Harry, I can assure you, I'm absolutely thrilled that you're marrying my daughter today," he said firmly. He hesitated for a moment before continuing, "I think…I think it's just beginning to hit me how quickly she's moving forward with her life."
"Mr. Weasley, I promise, her happiness comes before mine," Harry said earnestly, and Arthur smiled.
"I know, Harry," Arthur said softly, clapping Harry's shoulder. "And I couldn't possibly be happier for you, if I tried. But at the end of the day, I'm still her father—and she's my only daughter. It's only natural that I feel this way, isn't it?"
Harry looked uncertain.
Arthur chuckled. "One day, Harry, you might have a little girl of your own, and this will all make a lot more sense to you. And I'll probably get a right old laugh out of it, too."
"Arthur!"
Arthur whirled around. Molly was racing down the cool, breezy marquee towards him, a harried glint in her bright brown eyes. "Arthur, what are you waiting for?" she demanded. "Ginny's been expecting for you for ten minutes!"
Arthur frowned in bewilderment. Then, realization struck and Arthur's stomach plummeted to his feet.
Immediately, he broke into a trot, racing past the rocky shore, up the winding cliffside path, and towards the familiar warmly lit bungalow at the top of the hill. He mentally shook himself, wondering how he could possibly have forgotten his most important—his only—duty as father of the bride. Panting heavily, Arthur flung open Shell Cottage's front door, and hurried up the stairs, two at a time, jogging down the landing and coming to a standstill outside Bill and Fleur's bedroom, which had been converted into a makeshift bridal quarters. Then, taking a deep, steadying breath, he rapped sharply on the door.
"Ginny!" he called desperately. "Hurry up, sweetheart! We're late!"
The door swung open almost immediately and Hermione emerged, closely followed by Luna. Both bore robes of pale yellow satin, and Luna, Arthur noticed, had a dazzling sunflower tucked behind her ear. They both smiled at him as they passed, and Hermione nodded her head in the direction of the door, gesturing for Arthur to go inside.
He stepped forward. "Ginny?"
Arthur's heart stuttered to a stop, as his daughter turned slowly away from the vanity to face him. Her long, red hair—permed to perfection earlier that morning by a patient Fleur—hung freely down her back in soft, gentle curls. She wore a fitted, white bodice, which was embellished sparingly with frills and small white roses, painstakingly sewn by Molly. And her long, elegant train flowed and rippled slightly as she glided towards him.
But it wasn't this astounding sight, nor the flawlessness of Ginny's simple, but radiant makeup that left Arthur utterly speechless. It was how…grown up…she looked that took his breath away. He blinked rapidly, several times.
"How do I look?" Ginny asked, smiling nervously.
"Stunning," Arthur said hoarsely, and Ginny beamed. He held out a slightly shaky hand, and she took it.
They walked out of the cottage and down the rocky seaside path in comfortable silence. In the distance, Arthur could see the lacy, white canopy of the marquee fluttering against the bright blue-green outline of the ocean.
At last, they reached the entrance. Arthur heard the familiar wedding march begin to swell from the canopy's lining. He closed his eyes and released a slow breath. Then, with Ginny in tow, he stepped inside.
There was a sudden collective sigh of amazement, as rows and rows of guests swiveled around in their seats to admire Ginny. Meanwhile, at the alter, Hermione and Luna had taken their places next to Harry, Ron, Neville, and George, who was officiating. And in the front row, Molly and Fleur were already dabbing their eyes with silk handkerchiefs.
But Arthur had eyes only for Ginny.
Ignoring the painfully swollen lump in his throat, Arthur leaned towards her and whispered, "I'm so proud of you, sweet pea."
They had nearly reached the end of the aisle. Ginny beamed up at her father. Then, squeezing his hand, she leaned up and kissed his cheek. "I love you, Daddy," she said softly. "I'll never forget I was a Weasley first."
And finally, Arthur found in himself the strength to lead his daughter down the remainder of the aisle, past rows and rows of awestruck guests, towards an equally awestruck Harry. Swallowing heavily, Arthur let his daughter's warm hand slip through his fingertips. He let her go, at last, because he knew she was happy.
And in the end, that was all he'd ever wanted for her.
Author's Note:
Ah, wedding fluff, my favorite kind of fluff :) Enjoy, my lovelies!
Ari