Story Disclaimer: JKR owns the universe, and I own the clothes on my back. She is a genius, and I'm just having fun.

CHAPTER ONE

I hate weddings. I absolutely hate cutesy couples. You know, the type that sit on the same side of the table at restaurants and just can't stop touching each other and feeding each other? The kind who say the most disgustingly cheesy things to each other? "Oh, honey bear, how's your pasta? Is everything absolutely perfect for my ickle honey bear?"

That's the point when I wish the killing curse wasn't illegal.

But mostly, I really, really despise the girl who wants to grow up and be a housewife. She practices making extravagant dinners for their "Mr. Prince Charming," and she has a scrapbook of pictures taken at other women's weddings which are supposed to piece together her own future ceremony. She starts naming children before she has a ring on her dainty finger, before the "lucky guy" even knows her middle name.

Yeah, I'm Dominique Weasley, and I'm one hundred percent certain that love is for losers.

It just so happens that I'm getting ready for a wedding right now. One that I'm in. My big sister Victoire is getting married to Teddy Lupin today. In about three hours, actually.

A French hairdresser is standing behind me, plaiting, twisting, and curling my hair. I feel her magically attaching rhinestone hairpins throughout, and she's using a very strong sticking charm, from the feel of it.

My sister, Victoire, is bounding around with nervous energy.

"Does everyone have their bridesmaid dresses? And bouquets?"

I guess I forgot to mention that there are five of us in the bridal party. And our dresses, as cliché as it is, are disgustingly ugly. They're big and marigold—to match the bouquets of course—and they have these giant matching bows on the back that my sister insists are just "so gorgeous!"

I'm going to look like a giant blob of mustard.

We all tell her yes—yes we've remembered everything on the most important day of your life.

Forget the fact that she was Head Girl at Hogwarts, that she got Outstanding marks onall of her NEWTs, that she had a career at the Daily Prophet before she stepped off of the Hogwarts Express after her graduation. Forget all of those facts. Clearly, this wedding was the only day in her life that mattered.

Ridiculous, isn't it?

The hairdresser stops and holds up a mirror. My reflection makes me snort. This was Victoire's idea of an appropriate bridesmaid hairdo?

My hair looks like a group of pigeons needed a home and decided to nest atop my head.

"Vic," I say uncertainly. She turns, her long silvery-red hair whipping around behind her, and I point to my pigeon nest. She claps her hands together in delight, and I can't stifle my groan of disappointment as she squeals.

"Oh, my goodness! Doesn't it just look so good, Dom?" She seems to float toward me, and I cringe as she smiles even wider. "Now all we have left to do on you is have your makeup applied and then put your dress on!"

"Vic, don't you think I can do my own makeup—?"

"Oh, no," she says, pulling me to my feet. "You've got to match everyone else. Besides, I have one of the best makeup artists here. Her name is Betsy, and she's standing over there. Go tell her I said to use the gold glitter, okay? I'm going to go get ready now."

She bounces off, smile growing wider and wider. I stomp my way over to Betsy.

"My sister said something about gold glitter." I know I don't sound very pleased, probably because I'm not.

Betsy smiles at me in response and ushers me into a chair. And the face painting begins.

This whole wedding thing is irritating me. Everyone keeps talking about how my sisterlooks so incredibly gorgeous and my new brother-in-law is just the sweetest thing, oh and we can't forget the ever-so-popular aren't they just going to be the happiest couple?

I want to jump off a bridge when people talk like that.

My mum and dad are dancing along with the bride and groom and all of the other people who happened to actually bring a "plus one" to the wedding (including my fourteen year old brother, Louis). I, obviously, didn't bring a plus-one, and therefore I'm sitting at one of the many round tables that surround the dance floor, sipping white wine, and looking at anything other than the dancing figures before me.

I turn to my left and see Garrett Goldstein standing by the pillar of the large white tent.

Garrett Goldstein is a fellow Hufflepuff (yeah, that's right—I'm the only Weasley in Hufflepuff), except that he's a year older than me, so we've never had any classes together. But we do have Quidditch practice together, so we're on friendly terms.

He must feel my stare because he turns and smiles at me, meeting my gaze. He steps toward me, and I pull out the chair next to me, gesturing for him to sit down.

"Looking good, Weasley," he says, grinning. "Nice dress."

I gesture at my gown. "What, you mean this old thing?"

He laughs easily, and I roll my eyes. "This wedding is kind of sickening, isn't it?" I say, picking up my glass of wine and taking a swig.

I feel him watching me, and he shrugs. "I think the cherub ice sculpture is what puts it over the top," he jokes, nodding toward the sculpture of the baby with too-small wings.

"Are you sure it isn't the champagne waterfall behind the altar?" I ask dryly.

Garrett shakes his head, and I can tell he's biting back a laugh. "No, I think that's just plain old romantic, Dominique."

I snort. "Romantic. Right."

I notice that Garrett is looking at my wine glass, and he says, "Your glass is empty. Want me to visit the waterfall for you?"

I shake my head and reach beneath the tablecloth. Garrett lets out a surprised burst of laughter as I pull out a half-empty bottle of wine.

"I should have known my chivalry wouldn't be accepted. Always have a better plan, don't you?"

I shrug, pouring more wine into my glass. I offer the bottle to him, but he shakes his head.

"Keep your stash for yourself, Weasley," he says, a grin sliding over his lips. "I couldn't bear to take it from you."

I laugh and nod my thanks. "You're too kind, Goldstein."

"I do what I can," he says.

We look at each other for a few minutes, silent. His eyes are a really deep shade of brown—so brown that they could almost be black. He's wearing a navy blue set of dress robes with a silver tie, and his brown hair is kind of wind-swept looking.

He's fit.

"You want to dance?" he asks suddenly.

I blink. I've just admitted to how fit I think he is. And we're friends. There's nothing wrong with dancing. I might as well make this ridiculous wedding fun. Especially since it's turned into Teddy's favorite song that he had begged Victoire to play, A Cauldron Stirring Good Time, which is clearly the most up-beat, fun song by the Weird Sisters to date.

Garrett is still waiting for an answer. I nod. "Yeah, why the hell not?"

He grins, and we walk out to the dance floor.

A/N: Chapter one down. Let me know what you think! :)