June 20
I was humming underneath my breath and Alicia was ready to commit manslaughter.
"Goin to the chapel and I'm…goin to get married," I chanted.
"Can you shut up with that blasted song? It's getting annoying," she hissed.
I fidgeted with my dress, examining my bouquet. Katie had chosen an arrangement of lilies, forget-me-nots, and baby's breath. It was quaint and simple, though still very pretty. I must have gained a few pounds since the final fitting, because for some reason, the dress was a bit snug. Then again, it hadn't helped that the disaster with Fred fueled a binge of two boxes of chocolates and a sleeve of double-fudge cookies.
Honestly, maybe I should become a nun. Every time I have relationship problems, or problems with the male population, I end up pigging out. If I keep this up, they'll need a crane to lift me out of the flat. I'd explained this to Katie, while we were sitting in the salon and getting our hair done. It was quite early in the morning and Katie hadn't devoured her normal five cups of caffeine. Let's just say, she didn't see the humor in my fears and called me "a hallucinating worry-wart." She should be happy with her wedding present; along with a top-notch espresso machine, I've included about five bags of ground coffee.
"Girls, please!" Katie begged.
She looked absolutely stunning. Her strapless dress flaunted her slender shoulders and long neck. The top half was free of any designs. At the bottom hemline, pearls had been sewn into the fabric, encircling the gown. In the back of the dress, white ribbon laced and tightened the dress, the bow resting at the small of her back. Wishing to differentiate from the bridesmaids, Katie wore her hair down. The hairdresser had curled it into loose waves and then pinned it back with a pearl barrette. Romantic tendrils framed her face, the rest flowing down her back.
Katie preferred minimal makeup, making her eyes the focus of her efforts. Alicia had been the one responsible. Katie didn't want to hire a make-up artist, as they were too expensive. Alicia had chosen to focus her energy on Katie's eyes, making them luminous and enchanting. The dewy, fresh-faced look complimented her fair skin. She looked like a figure from a Renaissance painting, a fair maiden with a crown of flowers, awaiting the return of her Knight. It was all so surreal; my best friend was getting married.
Katie and Lee decided that they wanted the ceremony to be outside. Fortunately, the weather had decided to cooperate. The temperature was warm, though lacking uncomfortable humidity. The clouds filtered the blinding sun; the sky was a rich, robin's egg blue. The area that they'd chosen was a lovely spot in the countryside, which overlooked a steep cliff. The cliff spilled into the ocean, waves crashing against the rocks.
Rows and rows of folding chairs had been set up, divided into two groups. The end chairs had ribbon tied to the legs. A canopy housed the chairs. A separate canopy protected the makeshift altar, which stood safely in front of the cliff. A white carpet had been conjured, acting as the necessary aisle. A small orchestra quartet was positioned to the right of the altar, delicately playing "Wedding March."
The guest list wasn't exceptionally large, though could not classify as miniscule. Family and close relatives had the privilege of front-row seats, everyone else had been seated according to their relationship with the bride and groom. Much to Lee's exasperation, I spotted Roger Davis sitting on Katie's side, chatting with Ginny Weasley and Harry Potter. Even though Ginny and Harry are living together, they constantly deflate any engagement rumors. Yeah, right. We'll see how long they keep up that act.
There was a bed and breakfast a few feet away from the actual wedding spot. Katie had made sure to book the place in advance, so we'd have full advantage of the space. We'd used the building as matrimonial headquarters, so to speak. It was the starting point for the wedding party and the bride and groom. The men were gathered in a separate room with Lee, while all of the females were milling around upstairs. The day had been quite hectic, what with getting dressed and getting our hair fixed. I'd barely gotten the chance to talk to Oliver, let alone bump into Fred. Then again, that wasn't a bad thing. Unfortunately, I'd seen Lavender, wearing far too much makeup, which totally betrayed the demure elegance of her dress. Some people really try too hard.
It was about two minutes until show time and Katie was freaking out. Alicia and I were attempting to comfort Katie, but this seemed to encourage her vexation.
"What if I trip? This bloody train is about the length of a killer whale! My Mum would never let me live it down. And Merlin, my cousin Veronica? The one that used to put Play Dough in my hair? She'd make fun of me for eternity!" she frantically babbled.
Alicia looked around the room. She snatched a paper bag that had previously carried someone's lunch. Checking to see if it was empty, she smiled and thrust the bag into Katie's ash-colored face. Katie glared, studying the bag as though it were a baby with six heads.
"And what is this?"
Alicia rolled her eyes.
"What do you think it is? A paper bag," she drawled.
Katie threw up her hands, the paper bag crinkling with the tightening of her fist.
"What the bloody hell do I need a paper bag for!?"
"Follow my instructions. Place the bag against your mouth. And then breathe. You should probably repeat this quite a few times," Alicia smartly advised.
I laughed and then stopped, remembering that this dress didn't accommodate gut-splitting chuckles.
"Oh, sod off," Katie barked.
However, she obeyed Alicia's suggestion and shoved the bag against her mouth. The paper crackled as she inhaled, her staggered breaths mimicking asthmatic asphyxiation. The sight almost made me forget about Fred and Lavender and Oliver. One of the wedding coordinators (all courtesy of Mr. and Mrs. Bell's wallet), popped her head into the doorway. Silence ensued, as everyone snapped to attention. Francis was statuesque, with a swan-like neck and ballerina body. She wore a cream pants-suit, wheat hair pulled into a tight bun.
Francis Gable and Franny Perkins upheld the reputation of the top wedding planners in the entire wizarding community. Just like the Baby Boom in the 1950's, Franny and Francis earned their respect and esteem directly following the end of The War. Chaos had prevented couples from marrying. Once the horror had passed, people were rushing to the altar. It'd become an epidemic. Franny and Francis, best friends since primary school, French by birth, British by naturalization, used the circumstances to their benefit. Soon, their feline eyes and razor cheekbones were gracing the covers of American and European magazines.
"Miss Bell? We're ready to begin," Francis sweetly cooed.
Static erupted from her headset and she nodded, pressing the earpiece. A self-automated writing quill had been stuck into her front pocket.
"Right. If we could have the flower girl out in front? And then the bridesmaids in your assigned order. Then Maid of Honor, you're the last of the company," Francis ordered.
There was a great rustling of fabric and the clicking of heels, as we scrambled into place. Katie was still gulping from her breathing apparatus, looking like a fish. The flower girl, one of Katie's younger cousins, wiggled to the front of the line. Despite the lightness of the basket, she furrowed her brow as though it weighed three hundred pounds. I went over to Katie, giving her a warm smile. Gently, I extracted the bag from her hand and issued a quick squeeze. Katie's bottom lip trembled, her eyes darting to the discarded bag.
"My bag," she moaned.
"Katie, you'll be fine. It's time to end your relationship with the sack, despite how heartbreaking it must be. You must say goodbye to the paper bag, despite the five seconds of heaven you've shared. All right, love?" I tenderly commanded.
With an enormous sigh, Katie nodded, meeting my concerned gaze.
"Yes, yes. Go ahead, put down my veil."
I lifted up the lace and lowered the material. I found my spot in line, standing behind Alicia. Someone, most likely Franny, squawked into Francis's ear. Francis clapped her hands together, suddenly adopting the rigidity of a drill sergeant.
"All right people, let's settle down. We've got a wedding to do. Now, if everyone will remember the rehearsals. This will be just another repeat of those, so don't worry. Keep your eyes ahead and remember, small, delicate steps. This isn't a race."
For the most part, rehearsals hadn't been too terrible. The first one had been painfully slow, as everyone was trying to grasp the bombardment of instructions and blocking. After that, it'd become monotonous. Except, there was the time that Lee showed up late and Katie wouldn't come out of the bathroom for forty-five minutes because she was so overwhelmed. And there was that one little incident, when I'd accidentally stepped on Alicia's heel and she'd hurled face forward and barreled into the Minister. Yeah. Despite those tiny blunders, rehearsals had gone splendid. Beautifully. Wonderful.
"Bugger, I've really gotta use the loo. My bladder is going to explode," Alicia muttered.
"Too late now. Just don't think about water. Or oceans. Or rivers. Or-"
"Thanks. You can shut up now."
"Right."
"C'mon, we don't have all day! Let's get this show on the road!" Francis shouted.
Like snails, we shuffled forward. I glanced back at Katie, who was gazing into the distance, her eyes boring into the air like lasers. She stiffly choked her bouquet, heels digging into the lavender carpet. Down the narrow hall we marched, down the oak stairs, the banister elaborate and ornate, like something out of the Old South. We floated out the back door and into the courtyard.
Our escorts were patiently off to the side, pairing off with their designated partners. I saw George tuck Alicia's arm into the crook of his elbow. In his crisp suit and tie, George looked every bit the gentleman. Oliver swiftly materialized to my side, sporting a suave grin that matched the debonair flair of his attire. I smiled and he offered me his arm. I switched the flowers into my left hand.
A wide, gravel lane emptied out into the green countryside. Francis waited by the door, watching the company file away. She was mumbling directions into her headset, quill out and furiously scratching into a notebook. As we approached, the volume of the violins increased. The musicians were swept up in the music, their arms taking lean strides to push the bows, fingers flying over the fingerboards. The crowd had turned in their seats, necks craned to watch the procession. I kept my eyes trained on Alicia's head; I didn't want to find myself looking at Lavender.
We finally reached the altar. Franny hovered towards the front section, eyeing the unfolding of events, smiling as though she were about to open a long awaited Christmas present. We dispersed at the altar, the men bidding a temporary goodbye to the women. Oliver smiled and squeezed my forearm, then joined George.
Fred had been chosen as Best Man; Lee didn't want to personally appoint one. Therefore, he'd flipped a coin and Fred had won. I took one quick, indulgent glance and then stared ahead, over the tops of heads. Lee patiently waited with the Minister, hands folded in front of him. He looked older, displaying a defined maturity. He'd decided to get a buzz-cut for the wedding. It was a refreshing decision and the black fuzz on his head seemed quite appropriate.
Soon, Katie was gliding down the aisle. Red rose petals consumed the ground and she drifted forward, her steps precise, her body moving as though controlled by a trance. Katie finally reached the altar, taking her place beside Lee. He turned to her and smiled, a reflection of their mutual excitement and anxiety. The orchestra stopped, the mellifluous notes echoing throughout the tranquil air. The Minister began the required sermon, prompting the required vows. And before I knew it, Mr. and Mrs. Lee Jordan were engaged in their first kiss as man and wife. The reception would occur in the grand ballroom of a nearby hotel.
The Golden Arms Hotel possessed notably lavish accommodations, especially for a location outside of London. Crystal chandlers dotted the ceiling. The ceiling itself was adorned with oil depictions of the Heavens and rosy angels. On either side of the room, ivory columns added extra sophistication; the overall architecture suggested high-class regality. It was reminiscent of a time of Lords and Ladies, a living tribute to the refined nobles of Jane Austen novels. Katie, envisioning a Cinderella-esque wedding, hired horse-drawn carriages to shuttle all the guests.
When we arrived at The Golden Arms, the buffet was out. The band conducted last-minute tuning, fiddling with their guitars and the stereo equipment. The room hastily swelled with conversation and giddy chatter. A cluster of guests scuttled to the buffet line, snatching plates and greedily eyeing the delectable food. Relatives huddled in clumps, some claiming tables and rehashing the progression of the wedding. Naturally, I found Alicia and we seized a table. Located in the middle of the room, it offered a close proximity to the band, without being right next to the speakers. I hadn't seen Fred since the ceremony. Gazing around the packed ballroom, I was unable to pinpoint that trademark mop of ginger.
"Wasn't that beautiful?" Alicia gushed, plopping into a chair.
The round tables could seat eight, the cream table cloths sweeping to the floor. The centerpiece was a glass rose, the silverware complete with intricate handles. Each plate was decorated with a hand-painted floral design that wrapped around its edge.
"Yes. I thought I was going to cry! Especially when Lee said that he'd loved Katie forever, even when she snores like a Mack truck? Poetry I tell you, poetry."
We both laughed, glad to get off our feet. Everyone started to clap; Alicia and I turned our attention to the dance floor. Katie and Lee were approaching, walking hand in hand. The band had finished their tuning, the singer clutching the microphone. The drummer poised his stick in the arm, impatiently waiting for the cue. The band, selected by Katie and Lee, consisted of a drummer, a bassist, a guitarist and a lead singer.
All of the musicians were young blokes, with the exception of the singer. She was short and curvy, sporting a wine colored cocktail dress. Her purple hair was pulled into a low ponytail, both ears showcasing four studs. The oldest band member couldn't have been older than twenty-five.
"And now, Mr. and Mrs. Jordan will have their first dance."
The drummer tapped out the beat, the bassist followed suit. Next, the guitarist strummed the opening chords and a measure later, the song proceeded. It was a slow number and Katie placed her head on Lee's shoulder. His arms encircled her waist, both of them swaying to the music, oblivious to their surroundings.
"Aw, look how cute they look! I bet Kates took off her heels already," Alicia speculated.
We wistfully studied the pair, who seemed to effortlessly glide across the polished wood. It was a perfect fit; Lee was only a few inches taller than Katie, but her smaller frame snuggled right into Lee's body like a puzzle piece. Suddenly, I felt a light rap on my shoulder. I whirled around and to meet Oliver. He'd loosened his tie and judging from the look in his eye, he wasn't solely thinking about the wedded bliss of Lee and Katie.
"Oy, fancy seeing you, Wood. Have a seat, sit down," Alicia neutrally offered.
I knew that she was still upset about the pending circumstances. However, it wasn't in her nature to be openly malicious to someone, unless the other party deserved it. Oliver was innocent in this ordeal, as I was the one who'd sent him mixed signals. Besides, it would be useless to start an argument now and thus ruin the serenity of the reception.
"Thanks. By the way Alicia, George is looking for you. He's in line for the buffet," Oliver informed.
"I'd better go see what he wants. I'll be back," she chirped.
She rose and issued a stern glance that Oliver failed to catch. I watched as she walked away, weaving through the clumps of people, darting to the other side of the room. I followed her path and automatically spotted George, who seemed to be having an difficult time deciding between the mashed potatoes and the stuffing. Like a radar system, my senses detected another Weasley.
Fred lingered by George's side, a plate in his hand, piled with an assortment of food. His gaze was trained on Lee and Katie, a pensive smile gracing his lips. And in his black, fitted suit, he was every inch the gentleman. George wore his wardrobe like an actor's costume; the illusion would evaporate once the day ended.
However, Fred hadn't adopted this element of pretend. This suave charm was simply a component of his multi-faceted personality that I'd never bothered to appreciate. Perhaps Katie was right, that I had time to make things right, to correct the horrendous blunders I'd set in motion. On the contrary, my pessimistic nature reflexively sneered at this optimistic wish, doubt weighing down my heart.
Fred, I miss you.
And as though he'd heard my confession, he slowly turned his head. I bit my lip and we locked eyes. His face was completely blank, his mouth neither smiling nor frowning. Alicia had made her way to George. He said something and she rolled her eyes. As though bewitched, I couldn't look away. Fred was a few feet away, but I felt as though he were standing in front of me. I'd come to memorize his face and the freckles that dotted the bridge of his nose, the creases that crinkled around his eyes whenever he laughed. There was a small scar, barely detectable, underneath his chin. And his eyes- as long as I'd live, I'd never forget those eyes.
"Angelina, Angelina. Are you listening?"
Guiltily, I faced Oliver. With furrowed brows, he inched closer, attempting to capture my attention. Katie and Lee had completed their dance. Other couples were flocking to the dance floor, their delighted chatter rivaling the thunder of the band. They'd launched into a faster song and somehow, Katie's capricious laughter floated above the crowd, tinkling like chimes.
"I'm sorry, I was just thinking," I half-fibbed.
"Do you want to dance?" Oliver asked, probably for the third time.
I subtly looked back to the buffet line. George and Alicia were still in line, animatedly whispering to each other. Fred, like a ghostly apparition, had vanished. With a sigh, I plastered a smile on my face, hoping it would pass as genuine.
"I'd love to."
Right on cue, the band finished their upbeat song and drifted into another slow melody. I stepped into Oliver's outstretched arms, obeying his rhythm. The careful inflection of the singer and her smoky voice made me think of falling in love for the first time. I put my chin on Oliver's shoulder, slightly stretching my neck to meet his height. His hand gravitated to the base of my neck but all I could think about was Fred.
"You look gorgeous, by the way," Oliver whispered.
"Thank you."
As he swept me around, I had the strangest sensation of being watched. I scoured the dance floor and singled out the culprit. Fred was dancing with Lavender, holding her close. He was facing forward, Lavender's head backwards. Her dress dipped in the back, exposing the indent of her spine. It was difficult to decipher the expression on his face, strenuous to untangle the jumbled emotions. I felt like he was saying goodbye; the pained look of a drowning man that's decided he's too tired to survive. And despite the hum of outside conversation and the vibrations of the speakers, Fred's silence was the loudest.
Looking at Fred, separated by the sea of bodies and our own stubborn perseverance, I was looking at the man I loved, rather than the boy I'd known. The room was crushing in and I was in the wrong man's arms, dancing with The Right Guy At The Wrong Time. I wanted to sleep within the folds of memories and the sentimental snapshots of the past. It was Katie's wedding day, an occasion that normally elicits jubilance. Yet, I'd fixated on the need to self-destruct. I recoiled from Oliver's grasp, stuttering an incoherent apology before I'd fully broken away.
"Are you all right, Angie?" Oliver wondered
"I'll be fine. I just got a little-a little lightheaded for a moment. I'm going to get some fresh air," I informed.
"You sure you don't want to me come with you? I can get you some water or something," he persisted.
I shook my head, lips pressed into a watery smile. His compassion was too much, his kindness drilling remorse into my veins like a needle. I'm a horrible person, I know. But I needed to get out and take a breath, without the tortured gaze of Fred or the undeserved concern of Oliver. I began weaving through the couples, head bent low. A waiter passed, holding a teetering tray of champagne flutes. I snatched one and burst out the doors.
I chugged the sweet liquid, shutting my eyes. I ambled down the hallway and randomly selected another door. I found myself in an empty room, a long stack of chairs pushed against the wall. It was probably used for various gatherings, just like the ballroom. A set of French Doors led to a balcony. I turned the handle and went onto the stone balcony.
The scenery resembled a page from a Brontё novel; the countryside stretched for miles and miles, rolling hills colliding into valleys, a twinge of melancholy tainting the otherwise pleasant landscape. I leaned against the railing, the glass on the ground. The position provided a bird's-eye-view of the gardens, various people wandering through the fauna, admiring the antique fountains and the rich floral. The tallest fountain exhibited an angel, balancing on one leg, aiming an arrow.
There was no doubt about it; I had to let Oliver know. Suddenly, the door swung open, a pocket of tepid air licking my back. I didn't bother to turn around, my body stiffing.
"Angelina," he said.
"What are you doing out here?"
"I saw you dancing with Oliver," he commented, with a bit more rancor than I'd expected.
"And I saw you dancing with Lavender."
"She doesn't fit in my arms, you know. Not like you."
"Fred-"
"She's all elbows and knees. When we danced, your head fit right into the crook of my neck. And you had to stand on your tip-toes but not by much. And when we danced you always shut your eyes, like you wanted to imprint the moment in your head."
"She's mad about you," I flatly assured.
"You know, that would be enough for any normal bloke. But no. I shouldn't even be out here! But despite everything, I can only think about how good you look in that dress. And how I should be the one taking you out of it."
Now was good a time as any to get another drink. But I was trapped by my own shame and misery, missing a happiness I'd so foolishly sacrificed. I was an idiot in more ways than one. My stomach lurched. And I wanted to laugh, but it never broke the surface.
"Please, don't make this any harder," I begged.
He took a step forward, voice quavering, determination coating his expression, consuming his eyes. The heartache had turned them a darker blue, a patch of twilight abandoned by constellations, free of stars.
"Do you really love him?" he demanded.
"I…"
"You can't love him. God damn, Angelina, this is the best thing that's ever happened to us and you're just gonna throw it all away?"
"But we're always fighting!"
"I fight with you because I love you! I thought you knew that. I thought it was obvious. I fight with you because I need you, because I worry that one day you'll realize that you want someone else, something more, something that I can't give you. And then, just when I think we're all right again, you tell me that you're in love with Oliver Wood?"
"I was scared! I didn't mean to say it. I said it without thinking and I regret it."
"But do you love him? Do you love him, Angelina? Cause if you do, I'll give up. I'll give up the fight, if there's nothing left to fight for."
Fred grabbed my hand, voice low, eyes locked onto my own.
"I thought I could. But it's hopeless. I know I've made mistakes. But please, please, please don't give up on me yet. You're all I've ever known, Fred. We're all I've ever known. And I used to think that it was a bad thing, that I was missing something."
"And now?"
"And now, I would rather be downright miserable with you, than happy without you."
He pulled me into a fiery kiss. A tear slipped down my face and his lips brushed it away, his eyelashes dusting across my skin. I shuddered, simultaneously frightened and pleased with the power and control he maintained. Images flashed through my mind, all of them concluding with a rumpled bed and my cheek pressed against his bare chest. He held my chin in his hands and he radiated authority, oozing fury.
"I want to hear you say it. Say it, Angel Tell me you love me."
"I love you, Fred Weasley. I love you and I'm sorry and I was stupid and-"
I was silenced with another kiss, one that felt like a baseball bat to my knees, an arrow to my lungs. And he was tugging at my dress and I was clawing at his suit and there was static in my brain, like snow on a broken TV. There was a rushing noise bouncing between my ears, like helicopters landing.
His mouth was like velvet and I kissed his eyelids, sighing as his cool fingers wrapped around the base of my neck. His hands swooped across my shoulders. Suddenly, we were slow dancing, drunkenly swaying to nothing, to the pounding of our heartbeats. I felt unbelievably woozy and I clung to Fred, seasick though ashore.
"I wrote you while I was away. Nearly one letter a day. Never sent them. Kept them all tied up, stuffed under my bunk. And when I went out on the battlefield, I kept a few underneath my shirt. I thought if I died, then someone would find me and send you the letters."
"Please, don't say anymore."
"Oi Lina, if you only knew the half of it."
I was alive and buzzing, positively silly and in a daze, an infatuation that mimicked the haze of long, hot, summer nights, when slumber refused to stick to my limbs, when I'd send Fred a midnight OWL and I thought love would last forever.
"Do you want to get out of here?"
"But what about Katie and Lee?"
"They won't mind. No one will even notice."
"But Fred-"
He kissed me and I was a goner.
I went back into the ballroom, hoping to grab my purse and make a dash for the exit. Unfortunately, my plans were foiled. As soon as I'd snatched my belongings, I felt a tenacious grip squeeze my forearm. I looked up and was greeted with Alicia's apprehensive face.
"Shit, I'm so glad I found you," she wearily confessed.
"What's wrong?"
"It's Lavender. She's pregnant."
Studying her disturbed expression, nothing else needed to be said.