Reflection
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
Summary: Ron reflects on the bride-to-be.
YOU looked absolutely beautiful.
Your thick curls were tamed today, pulled into an elegant bun your mother had done for you. The dress you had chosen was stunning. I had never been a fan of lace—the Yule Ball had made sure of that—but it looked beautiful on you. I saw the make-up on your face. It was a nice change. I rarely saw you with make-up on; it had never interested you like it did the other girls.
I smiled, reflecting on our life together. I remembered when I first met you. It was hard to believe I could ever love someone so much, and it took me too long to admit it. I had never been good with my emotions. I watched as you grew up, only getting smarter as each year passed. You were the smartest witch of your age and rightfully so. There were very few people as smart as you.
You turned to look at me and I could see instantly how nervous you were. I smiled, trying to be reassuring. But, I was nervous too. We don't have to go through with this, I tried to convey with my eyes. You must have understood because you laughed, shaking your head. Of course not; you had dreamed of this day for a very long time.
Your mother came into the room, followed by my own mother. My mother came to me and squeezed my hand. She put her head on my shoulder as your mother placed a string of pearls around your neck—the same pearls she had worn during her own wedding twenty seven years before. You kissed her cheek, thanking her. I could see the tears forming in her eyes. Instead of speaking, she simply nodded. My own mother squeezed my hand again and then left the room, both women fighting tears of joy.
Ginny came in then, telling us they were ready. She told you that you looked gorgeous and she was only sorry you had to walk down the aisle with a git like me. You laughed again and I remembered how much I loved your laugh. You hugged Ginny quickly before she too left the room.
You slowly walked towards me and I had to hold my breath. I was starting to doubt that I could do this. You straighten the tie of my dress robes and softly placed a kiss on my cheek. Then, your fingers intertwined with mine, knowing that my nerves were starting to exceed your own. Without words, you led me from the room and down the stairs—the same stairs I had navigated for many, many years, but somehow I was still tripping over my feet.
We made our way into the garden where all of our friends and family were waiting. You placed your hand on my arm and looked into my eyes.
"Thank you, Daddy," you whispered.
I nodded. "I love you, Rosie," I said, and then walked you down the aisle.
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