A/N: Written for Drishti3693's January 20th song of the day prompt. Probably a bit cheesy but fun to write!
When Lysander thinks of the act of getting married, he thinks of crisply ironed suits and brightly contrasting ties in a solid color. He thinks of the girl he's going to marry as dressed up in a simple white dress with intricately sewn decorations lining the edges of his beloved's skirt, sleeves and hemline. When they finish exchanging vows, the sun will set in a splash of warm pinks, oranges, reds and yellows and he will kiss his bride, with a angel choir accompaniment. It will be a beautiful night, plainly decorated and with a small guest list but extremely meaningful, both to him and his dear wife.
But the thought of finding the girl to fulfill his deepest fantasies confuses Lysander more than anything. Despite his thought out plans on what might happen if he got married, he can't imagine actually getting married. It's a confusing thing, trying to convince himself that settling down doesn't mean giving up on life, on things that matter to him as a bachelor like learning everything he could just for the sake of learning and finding the perfect way to raise Nargles and thoughtfully drinking ginger ale out of shot glasses to look intelligent.
Molly Weasley, with her soft voice and warm eyes and long, thick lashes and her short bobbed hair, easily sauntered into his life as if destiny planned on meeting this way by chance. She was nineteen and just barely out of Hogwarts, just like Lysander, with a thick stack of books that blocked her vision.
"Would you mind helping me pick up these books? They're heavy and a bit hard to carry." He dropped to his knees to help her pick up the books, his heart beating faster than he thought possible upon glancing at the books she dropped (The Art of Nargle Catching, 1,001 Ways To Drink Ginger Ale in Your Daily Life and A Wizard's Guide to Muggle Knitting, among other books that he couldn't see the full title of).
"You like Nargles?" He blurted out, without thinking. Lysander clutched her dropped books to his chest in embarrassment.
"Like? I'm planning on studying as much about Nargles as humanly possible," Molly said, her pretty eyes lighting up.
"I'm Lysander Scamander," he said dreamily, reaching his hand out to shake hers.
"Molly Weasley," she responded, her hand fitting perfectly in his. That night, when he had his recurring fantasy turned dream of being married, Molly Weasley filled the role of the faceless bride.
