Disclaimer: This fan fiction is kind of a Harry Potter / Mamma Mia story. I only own the story, not the song or the idea.
Slipping Through My Fingers
I smiled sheepishly at my daughter's reflection in the mirror. "What do you think?" she questioned, brushing her long ginger hair over to one side.
"Maybe if you..." Unable to explain my idea, I brought back the two front pieces of her hair and pulled them back to meet in the middle, then gave her a smile in the mirror as if to ask if she approved. "Hm?"
"Oh, that's nice!" she exclaimed, pushing my hands out of the way and holding her hair back for herself, trying to make little alterations here and there. I sat back and allowed her to be creative with her appearance. Watching my daughter act so independently compelled me to sigh. I unmistakably remembered the first day I'd brought her to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters with her brothers; school bag in hand, she leaves home in the early morning, waving goodbye with an absent-minded smile. I watch her go with a surge of that well-known sadness and I have to sit down for a while.
"Like it, mum?" Ginny implored. She turned in her seat so I wasn't required to make a clouded decision through the mirror imitation that did her beauty no justice.
"It's lovely." I smirked, placing my hand gently on her shoulder. "What were you thinking in terms of makeup?"
Ginny inspected her reflection. "What about some bright pink lipstick and a tiara – oh, and lots of glitter!" I knew my daughter well enough to understand she was being very sarcastic. My down-to-earth Ginny would never want to be that elaborately dressed up. She giggled purely out of excitement. I pressured a half-laughed. The feeling that I'm losing her forever, and without really entering her world... I'm glad whenever I can share her laughter; that funny little girl.
"Here," I opened her makeup drawer at the vanity we sat in front of, and pulled out a simple, clear gloss; brown powdery shadow and some assorted polishes. "I'm not too sure which nail polish you'd like to wear..."
Ginny picked the light pink one and smiled. "It'll go with the dress." Slipping through my fingers all the time, I try to capture every minute; the feeling in it, slipping through my fingers all the time. Both she and I tilted our heads to observe the wedding dress hanging in the closet. It had been mine when I married Arthur. Conveniently, I had been married about the same age as Ginny, so she and I had slightly the same figure. As we gawked at the light blue, elegant dress, I noticed her with a dazed look on her face. Do I really see what's in her mind? Each time I think I'm close to knowing, she keeps on growing; slipping through my fingers all the time.
"Did you need help getting dressed?" I'd requested.
"No thanks mum. Can you just wait outside the door? It'll only take a moment."
"Sure..." I sighed and exited her room. As Ginny closed the door, I leaned on its wooden surface, my nose pointed towards the ground. Sleep in our eyes, her and me at the breakfast table; barely awake, I let precious time go by... Then when she's gone, there's that old melancholy feeling and a sense of guilt I can't deny. What happened to the wonderful adventures, the places I had planned for us to go? Well, some of that we did, but most we didn't and why, I just don't know...
The door swung open on its hinges to expose my daughter, Ginny Weasley, the most beautiful I'd ever seen her. The top of the dress, pale blue silk, was wrapped tightly around her torso while the matching blue netted skirt puffed out from her waist. The two materials were separated by a string of tiny pearls.
"Oh, Gin!" I felt obliged to wrap my arms around her, but I didn't want to spoil the dress. "You look wonderful!"
She blushed a tinge of pink. "Thanks mum."
I stood next to Harry, his arm intertwined with mine. "Are you ready, Harry?" He nodded quickly with a grin on his face. Without a word, we started off down the aisle. Upon reaching the minister, I stood on my tiptoes so I could kiss his cheek then sat in the front row. That's about when the music started up and everyone rose from the wooden chairs I'd got the children to set up in the yard earlier that morning.
The sight was breathtaking: there was a white arch at the altar under which Harry stood; the aisle was formed by a large sheet of red silk; white and pink flowers scattered the scene. It only got more stunning when Ginny approached Harry, her arm wrapped inside of her father's. Arthur kissed her lightly on the forehead and then came to sit next to me. Seeing the way that Harry looked at his bride-to-be seemed like something one might find on a holiday card. Sometimes I wish that I could freeze the picture and save it from the funny tricks of time, slipping through my fingers all the time.
I watched anxiously as the ceremony progressed, my hands tapping a rhythm on my knees. As soon as the words "I do" escaped Ginny's lips, tears fell from my eyes; happy ones, I'm sure. Schoolbag in hand, she leaves home in the early morning, waving goodbye with an absent-minded smile...