There was something strange about the young woman in the looking glass.
Her dark hair had been tied up in a sophisticated French knot, with little curls framing her sweet face. Her completion was stainless – perfectly smooth skin rose up over pronounced, rosy cheekbones, illuminating the faint crinkles at the corners of her eyes and lips that spoke of laughter and happy times. Warm, dark eyes had been outlined in a pale shade of charcoal, making them shine brightly. She wore an understated dress made of simplistic, white lace that trailed out a few inches behind the opaque underskirt.
Hermione Granger found it difficult to believe that June 1st had finally arrived.
Pale sunlight shone through the windows of the chapel nursery, and Ginny fussed needlessly over the final preparations. As Maid of Honor, it was her obligatory duty to fuss with the way lace poured down Hermione's back, or the placement of the final magically engineered blue tulips in her summer bouquet.
"Do you feel ready?" the redhead asked, her voice slightly obstructed by the pin in her mouth.
"No. But I suppose one could never be fully – ouch!" Hermione split her sentence in two, exclaiming softly as Ginny accidentally stuck her, "for something of such great magnitude."
"Mmhm." Ginny agreed, nodding her head as she folded the fabric and pinned it in place. She was much better at this than Hermione was, and with Ginny's hidden talent, there was no need to pay for alterations. She moved pins about for a final time, and then cast a charm that sewed them into place.
"Take a look."
Hermione turned slightly, looking at the back of her dress, and was pleased with the way that the fabric draped. It had been sewn into a permanent French bustle, meaning that her feet would not have to compete with yards of fabric up and down the aisle.
"It's lovely," Hermione affirmed, and Ginny beamed. She gathered the young woman into a hug, and Hermione clutched tightly to her, nervousness beginning to settle in the pit of her stomach. Marriage. It was a rather daunting prospect, especially when her chosen mate could be so difficult. Would she stand by her decision in five years? Ten? Fifteen?
"Feeling nervous?"
"Yes."
"You'll be fine. It's Ron that I'm worried about."
"Me too."
Ginny burst into laughter, and Hermione could not help but follow into a small fit of giggles.
"I'm sure that you two will be marvelous together," she reassured her, giving her arm a gentle squeeze. Hermione smiled gratefully.
The prospect of being married to Ronald Weasley was infinitely less terrifying with Ginny's company.