Taking Steps
The dress is beautiful, Ginny thought, outdated, maybe, but beautiful.
Standing in front of the floor length mirror in her room, Ginny Weasley-soon to be Ginny Potter-looked herself over. Half of her curled hair was knotted behind her head, while the other dark, red curls tumbled over her shoulders and down her back; her makeup was simple-no crazy dark eye shadows or exaggerated eyeliner wings-but made her face glow and her eyes pop. She looked beautiful. She knew she did. But something's missing. There was a knock on her door just then and-after taking a quelling breath-allowed whoever it was to enter.
"How're you feeling?" Molly Weasley asked after clicking the door shut behind her and walking over to her daughter. Ten minutes ago, after hours of Hermione, her mother, and every other female friend and/or relative cooing and fussing over her, Ginny had not so calmly told everyone to get out or she would hex them all. To be fair, Hermione had just gone over to her for the hundredth time with that bloody makeup brush ("Really Ginny, I promise this is the last time; I just think you could use a little more blush"). Since she had woken up that morning no one had allowed her a single quiet moment, and she needed a quiet moment. She was marrying Harry Potter today. She was marrying the boy-the man-she had fancied-had loved-since before she went to Hogwarts. Today. It was all so crazy and wonderful and overwhelming; for so long this day was only a dream, an idle fancy of a little girl, but now? Now it was real and her heart was pounding and her stomach was fluttering and she just needed a moment.
"Better" Ginny replied weakly. For a long moment they both just stood there, staring at their reflection. Slowly, Molly began to smile.
"You look so beautiful, Ginny" and she couldn't help it-she had been fighting a losing battle all morning-Ginny began to cry. Thank Merlin for the impervious charm Hermione put on the makeup, Ginny thought as the sobs took control of her and she crumbled to the ground. Molly bunched up her skirt and sat down next to Ginny's shaking form, taking her daughter into her arms and rocking them both back and forth.
They stayed like that until the sobs turned into labored breathing and the labored breathing became normal, even breaths. Molly began to gently lift Ginny off of her shoulder to look at her face. Wiping the remaining tears from her cheek with her thumb and-using the handkerchief she had grabbed before knocking on her door-wiped Ginny's face clean of all remnants of her sob.
"I feel like I'm missing something" Ginny said, her voice small and scratched, as she and her mom both regained their position facing the mirror. Molly looked her over for a moment before exclaiming a little "oh" and hurried out of the room. Surprised by the sudden turn of events, Ginny stood, her brows furrowed, facing the door her mother just exited. It was a moment, though, before Molly came bustling back into the room, a long, wispy fabric trailing after her. Standing behind her, Molly slid the prongs of the veil into Ginny's little bun and stepped back to her spot beside her daughter.
"Better?"Ginny nodded her head in response. She looked at herself and relief flooded her. Everything was going to be okay-more than okay.
"You look so much better in this dress than I did."
"What are you talking about? You looked so beautiful on your wedding day." Molly simply smiled, rearranging a few curls, and kissed the top of Ginny's head. There was another knock on her door and-after her mother gave her arm a reassuring pat-told whoever it was to come in. Arthur Weasley opened the door, a huge grin on his face and-after seeing Ginny in Molly's wedding dress-glistening eyes.
"Oh, Ginny" He went over to her and Molly, pulling them both in a tight embrace.
"Are you ready?" Arthur said after they had disentangled themselves from each other. With a quick squeeze of her mother's hand, Ginny locked arms with her father.
"I'm ready." With that, Ginny and her parents made their way out of the house and to the garden; where Harry stood waiting for her.