Above, church bells echoed out, merging perfectly with the old organ being played at the other end of the room. It's joyful and embracing music sweeping the room. George stood at the end of the isle as he watched Angelina walk gracefully towards him. His auburn hair was combed back and he was wearing a tailor made black suit. Angelina's snowy white dress fell softly to her feet and swayed slightly as she walked; its sleek design clung to her body and floated around her legs.

They were in a small chapel, by the coast in some town that George couldn't pronounce the name of. It wasn't a particularly religious ceremony; but this place had been chosen for had a particular sentimental significance. The stone walls of the building have been embellished in small flowers, all of them a deep navy. A matching rug had been placed on the floor, running along the length of the chapel, which Angelina was currently walking down. Over-head, candles floated, each one bearing a small and steady flame which was whiter than the first snowflake to fall on a cold winters morning. They were held under a special spell, reserved to use only on weddings.

It felt like anyone they had ever met was here currently. All of their year at Hogwarts was here, the last time they had looked this smart was at the yule ball. Family, friends, teachers and neighbours sat watching proudly as the couple waited in anticipation, for the two to become one.

After what felt like an eternity, Angelina reached George. He immediately stretched his arms out and swiftly but gently pulled her close to him and embraced every part of her that he could. His hand cautiously moved away the hair from by her ear, revealing a delicate earing. He pushed his head next to hers and whispered under his breath "I love you so much" with a voice so quite that in a room of hundreds only she could hear it.

And even though everything was perfect, secretly George felt like something was missing. He glanced down to the first row where his mother sat proudly, with a tear in her eye. However, next to her, in the overcrowded room, was an empty chair, where someone very important should have been sitting. A certain melancholy hung over the simple chair. There was people standing in the back, forced to due to lack of seating, but here was this empty seat. For the reason they had chosen this chapel, out of the thousands of others in the country was what was outside of it. In the grave yard, surrounded by graves probably centuries old was a fresh grave. Moss did not yet grow there and headstone had not crumbled. And engraved on the headstone was the name 'Fred Weasley'.