A marquee had been set up in The Burrow's garden. Rows of golden chairs ran down either side of a deep purple carpet. Gold and white flowers wound their way around the supporting poles.
George looked to his left without thinking. He wanted to catch Fred's eye and grin like he used to. He wanted Fred to grin back. Seeing no one, he turned to face the opening she would walk through.
Angelina appeared as expected and began her way down the aisle, hanging on her father's arm. A few more steps and George wouldn't be so alone any more.