Hey you guys!
Hey I discovered something cool, and I thought I'd share it with you all. If any of you get alloy magazine, there's a girl in there that looks exactly like that alex. Just use the description you know of alex (dark hair, tanned, thin) and you'll be able to find her. Oh and she's also in the september issue of seventeen from last year, near the back in a makeup article. Also in that same article, there's a blonde girl who looks just how i picture emalie. So if you're interested, check it out.
Okay here it is! Happy reading!
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Chapter Three: Bubbly
"Honey, I'm home!" I shout jokingly. Emalie hates being called 'honey'.
"Ech!" Emalie calls from the kitchen. "Why must you torture me so?"
"Because," I say, coming up behind her in the kitchen and wrapping my arms around her waist, "I love you."
"Aw… how nice," she says, giggling a bit. She flips off the burner on the stove. "Okay, now you set the table. Once you're done with the table, there's a button down shirt, a black tie, and a jacket in the coat closet you can change into. I'm gonna go un-uglify myself, alright?"
"I don't see any ugly," I say, a grin on my face as she walks towards the hallway in sweats and a t-shirt.
"You know why I love you?" she asks, walking the last few paces to our bedroom backwards.
"Because I love you even when you think you're ugly?"
"Because of your sense of humor," she answers, grinning as she enters the bedroom to get ready.
Every month on the third Wednesday, the two of us have a nice dinner at our flat. We both get dressed up and Emalie cooks some great food. It's a nice little thing we do as an excuse to get dressed up and looking good without going out (which translates to 'less time to get back to bed').
Immediately after she closes the door, I check my watch to see how much time there is. It's 7:30 exactly, and Em usually takes about a half an hour to beautify herself, so everything has to be perfect by eight.
Emalie's already put the tablecloth and the placemats out, but they're the same ones we use all the time. With a flick of my wand, the whole table unfurls in candlelit splendor. The same old tablecloth has been replaced with the good linens; the fine china has been set; the cloth napkins are folded neatly into little swans and set loftily on the dinner plate; the pasta, salad and sauce all in their respective dishes.
Having set the table, I ditch my shirt in the coat closet, quickly rushing to the hall bathroom to wash my face and make a futile attempt to make my hair lie flat. Damn Dominik and his perfect hair. After a second thought, I shake my head as though attempting to shake the idea out of my mind. After deciding to ignore my hair, I hastily shave and remarkably don't cut myself at all. With just a dab of cologne here and there, I dash back to the coat closet and slap on the button down shirt, the tie, and the sports coat checking myself in the mirror by the front door.
Once all that is done, I do a million other little things to make the atmosphere perfect, which include but not limited to: cleaning the kitchen, dining room and living room like they've never been cleaned before (with magic, of course. I'm not a kamikaze.), sprinkle rose petals here and there, dim the lights, and set on some soft background music.
I glance around to make sure everything's perfect and then down at my watch. 7:55.
Just then, I hear a pecking sound at the window above the kitchen sink. I whirl around, starting to get jumpy from the time running down, and then let out a sigh of relief when I realize who's there.
"Hey Hedwig," I say softly, pulling up the shutter to let her perch on the window sill. She sticks out her leg and I quickly untie the note. It's in a neat, perfectionist script that I recognize immediately as Hermione's.
We're all here, and it's about half set up. We need at least another half an hour, so stall if need be. And we all are wishing you good luck!
Hermione
I immediately toss out the note, not wanting Emalie to run across it accidentally, and grab another piece of paper. I quickly scribble down a note for her:
That's fine, it'll probably be a little longer than a half an hour anyway. Send Pig down when you're completely done with the "message", and I'll be up within five minutes.
Harry
I tie the note onto Hedwig's leg, and I realize my hands are shaking. Get a grip, Potter, I tell myself. Even Hedwig seems to notice, and just before I send her off, she hoots softly and clicks her beak, as if to offer words of encouragement.
"Thanks, girl," I say with a smile, as she soars off.
As the final check, I look into my jacket pocket to check if the box is still there. It is, and I glance inside, just to take one final glance at it before I give it to Emalie.
"Wow… look at this place."
I turn around.
Emalie looks… amazing. She's wearing a stunning strapless cocktail dress with a swingy, A-line skirt that falls just above her knees. The dress is simple and classic: it's white with black lace and a wide black ribbon cinched below her bodice. Her eyes are even more beautiful than usual, having been carefully lined with a thick band of liquid black liner, and her lips are ruby red. And her platinum blonde tresses are artfully curled, tumbling over her shoulders and down her back. With all of that put together, she looks just like an angel.
"It looks amazing," she breathes, looking over the table, her red pumps clacking against the floor as she enters the dining room.
"So do you," I say, courteously giving her a kiss on the cheek so as not to muss her lipstick.
"I would've gotten more dressed up if I'd known you were gonna get so fancy," she says, glancing down at her apparel the insecure way normal people would look at themselves if they were dressed in a burlap sack. "Did I forget an anniversary or something?"
"No, there's no anniversary," I insist, chuckling as I pull out Emalie's chair. "And you look sublime."
"Why thank you," Emalie smiles.
We then proceed to have a nice dinner with pleasant conversation. Emalie looks beautiful, the candlelight glimmering on her skin like flecks of gold and setting her pale aquamarine eyes aglow.
Towards the end of the meal, the pecking resumes at the window again, only this time it's not the usual steady three pecks, but a barrage of pecks coming with the speed and intensity of a machine gun fire.
"Is that Pig?" Emalie asks, clearly surprised as she squints at the window. "What's he doing here?"
"Dunno," I say, playing my part well. I wipe my mouth with my napkin and set it to the side of my plate. "I should probably let him in though."
"Okay." Emalie nods, getting up and coming to see it with me.
Pig zooms it, flitting about with the speed and agility of a hummingbird. I finally manage to snatch him after nearly five attempts and remove the note from his leg.
Hey Harry, get up to your roof right now, there's a meteor shower and it's beautiful. And hurry, get up there before it's over.
Hermione
"A meteor shower?" Emalie says excitedly. She loves anything to do with Astronomy. "C'mon, let's go!"
"Alright," I say, grinning to myself.
The two of us rush up the flights of stairs, Emalie moving at remarkable speeds for someone wearing three inch heels. When we finally reach the roof door, Emalie flings it open to find my little surprise.
The whole roof is lit up with candles and strung-up white Christmas lights, hundreds of Casablanca lilies—Emalie's favorite flower—set up all over. To top it off, everyone is there: Mr. and Mrs. Carlisle; Parker and her family; Chase and Hannah; Emalie's best friend, Annabel; Hermione, Ron, Julia and Mackenzie; Gin, Dom and Brody; and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.
Emalie stops dead in her tracks from shock, and I come up beside her.
"Harry, what's—" she begins uncertainly, turning back to me only to be cut off when I start to get down on one knee. "Oh my god…"
"Em," I start off, taking her left hand in mine. She keeps looking around, like she's expecting at any moment to wake up from a dream, and her eyes begin welling up. "I wanted to ask you this in front of all our family and friends, to prove to you and the world how much I love you." She heaves a happy sob, covering her mouth with her shaking right hand. "You are everything I want, and everything I need. Before I met you I was just a shell, a hollowed out version of myself. And then I met you, and you lit up my whole world. You brighten up everything." She smiles at me, tears rolling down her cheeks. "And I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want all the little moments, like when we are having kids and you get all hormonal and fat but you're still beautiful but you bitch all the time, and when I'm being stupid and you yell at me to shape up, and even when we're old and cranky and all you want to do is knit and watch 'Murder, She Wrote' on the muggle television on our plastic covered couch, but I really want a pureed sandwich."
She laughs, and I pull the box out of my pocket and extract the ring from it.
"Emalie Rose Carlisle," I say, posed to set the ring on her finger, "will you be my wife?"
"Yes," Emalie squeaked out, nodding her head enthusiastically. "Yes, yes, yes, yes!"
I take her in my arms and pick her up, her body shaking from the sobs. Everyone around us starts clapping, cheering, but I barely hear it, and I doubt she hears it either. It's one of those very moments in life, where one single thing can make everything else fade away. And she's it. All's right with the world, all's at peace. The whole world is warm and sweet and bubbly and bright. And that's all I'd want, because she makes it so.
Now please review! I beg of you!
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