[I disclaim! If I owned any of this, the twins would have remained as they were intended; twins!]
WRONG
WRONG.
The piercing bell echoed around the barren churchyard. A lone oak swayed inaudibly in the mild breeze of the midsummer day as the sun fell heavily down upon the village of Ottery St. Catchpole.
"Did you hear that?" called the familiar voice of a stout red headed woman as the bedroom door burst open, "One o'clock already, we really need to be getting a move on dear." Bustling hurriedly to the other side of the room, Molly Weasley paused only momentarily to admire the young girl sat before her; so exquisite.
"You look stunning my dear," she said, making a mammoth sniffle, her eyes welling with jubilant tears.
"Thanks Mrs Weasley," the black haired girl replied, adjusting one of the ruffles on her floor length white dress for what felt like the hundredth time. Forcing a nervous smile she looked up Molly. She truly valued all the trouble Mrs Weasley had gone to in order to make this the most excellent day of the young couples' lives... because it had to be said that they had never been quite the same since the year of Voldemort's demise.
Of course, all of those events are no nearer to being forgotten than they were on the day that they occurred, but this was unquestionably not the time or the place to relive them and as Mrs Weasley continued to help Angelina in getting ready, these unpleasant thoughts were on neither of their efficiently occupied minds.
*
WRONG. WRONG.
"Oh my goodness, two o'clock?! It never is! Well, come on then," Mrs Weasley said with some surprise alongside a mound of excitement, "the car's outside and don't you worry about George seeing; him and Arthur apparated a few minutes ago."
The pair had opted for a conventional church wedding and Angelina was very keen on the idea of arriving in an inconspicuous muggle car (even if the inside was bewitched in order to fit all five of her bridesmaids, herself and Mrs Weasley).
Just minutes later the yard of The Burrow was filled with beaming young women all awaiting the arrival of one soon to be Mrs Angelina Weasley. The old wooden door gradually creaked open as Mrs Weasley made her way through, leading the way for the bejewelled bride to be whose hair was placed up beautifully in the most delicate of ringlets. A harmony of sighs came from the five ladies in their matching pale blue dresses.
"Angelina, you look stunning!" Alicia cried as she hurried over to greet the girl with a gentle hug, only to be followed by the other four girls smiling and holding back slight tears of enchantment. After a round of kisses and compliments; Alicia, Katie, Ginny, Hermione, Fleur, Mrs Weasley and Angelina all made their way into the car and up to the now occupied church.
*
As a hush called in the vast church, a tall, stocky and exceedingly nervous freckled redhead stood, wringing his hands and glancing over to his left every once in a while. Stood beside him was his brother Charlie who gave a small nod as George turnt to him for support. Sat just behind the pair was an eager Percy, Bill and Ron Weasley next to an equally animated Lee Jordan and Harry Potter.
There were a whole host of recognizable faces scattered about the room including an aging Professor McGonagall, who (always having a soft spot for the Weasley's) had been successfully running Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for the past six years. Also in attendance was one Rubeus Hagrid who was sat in the far corner of the hall towering above the rest, a sizable handkerchief clutched in one of half giant hands. Mrs Weasley now rushed into the room, taking a seat on the vacant front row where she would later be joined by the bridesmaids who were to make their entrance following the bride.
Notably, there were only three people missing who ought to have been there on that day.
Angelina had lost both of her parents to the death eaters during the final fight against Voldemort and the same sorry fate had become of George's twin brother, Fred. The three individuals fought bravely like the Gryffindor's they had all been, but like so many others they fell so very close to the final hurdle. And however shattering their deaths were to so many people, they were the sole reason George and Angelina had been brought together.
At the end of the war neither George nor Angelina thought that they would ever be the same again. (They weren't.) For it was common knowledge that Fred and George were utterly inseparable and that most individuals take quite some time to mourn the deaths of their nearest and dearest at such a fragile age. (They did.)
So there they were, isolated and despondent. George had been attempting to run the joke shop with assistance and encouragement from his devoted friend Lee, but to no avail. He was yet to overcome the mountainous barrier of merely existing without his twin. He no longer found the inspiration for pranks and Mrs Weasley was quite sure she hadn't seen him smile for over a year.
Angelina had reacted in much the same way, she was staying with her aunt and uncle who were supportive but unable to relate. She refused to talk about it and so was very hard to get through to, only really leaving the house to go to work.
After about a years worth of staring and hurting and crying and aching, the pair eventually met at a gathering which they had both been forced to attend by their respective guardians. Each courteously greeted the other as they sat unaccompanied whilst the majority of attendees danced enthusiastically to the overly loud music. Soon they were into polite daily chatter and concluded with mutual smiles when reliving some of their finer Hogwarts moments. Each in understanding of the other, Angelina was soon helping George in rebuilding the joke shop to its former glory and before long they were seen laughing in public (much to the delight of an incessantly concerned Mrs Weasley who had been equally as distraught as the couple).
*
There it was, the tune preceding that long walk down the aisle. Angelina inhaled profoundly as she took Mr Weasley's arm looking up into his calming face for one last time. The doors opened with a thunderous groan and a number of heads shot around to gaze directly at the hesitant young bride. With a little help from the stand in (but no less proud) father on her left, she took those everlasting steps down the walkway.
As the ceremony progressed, George and Angelina grew increasingly more relaxed and it was only when the proceedings were drawing to a close that each of them paused to look around the mass of exultant guests. Neither of them could help but feel that something was missing, that something was terribly wrong. And both of them ached as they had done once before.
Then turning to one another and understanding more than ever, a sluggish tear passed down each of their cheeks as they touched lips to a roar of heartening applause.
WRONG. WRONG. WRONG.