Epilogue
Six years later . . .
Ginny Weasley took a deep breath, trying to ignore all the chatter around her. She peered into the mirror on the wall, checking for lipstick on her teeth. Gorgeous as usual, dearie, the mirror told her in a wheezy voice. Ginny gave a nervous grin. She smoothed her hair, and with the help of her beaming mother, placed her gauzy white veil on her head.
You look lovely, darling, Mrs. Weasley whispered, giving her daughter a hug. Absolutely lovely.
I'm a bit nervous, Ginny confessed, toying with her engagement ring. She'd had it for six months and she still wasn't used to the feel of it on her hand.
Everything will be perfect, her mother comforted her. Don't worry about a thing.
Ginny didn't feel reassured.
You love him, don't you? Mrs. Weasley demanded, trading her nostalgic sense for her usual briskness.
Ginny could feel herself turning pink. Of course I do.
And he loves you.
Then what is there to worry about? And with that, her mother turned and walked off, demanding a frazzled-looking usher if he knew where her husband was.
She's right, Ginny told her reflection, adjusting the veil. I don't have to worry about anything. She looked around the room, watching the sea of flustered bridesmaids, pale blue dresses, and flowers everywhere. It was just how she'd always imagined her wedding. But she had never in her life dreamed that she would be lucky enough to be walking down the aisle towards Him, the perfect one. . . .
But now all her dreams were coming true.
She was interrupted from her reverie by the music beginning. The bridesmaids all squealed and rushed into their lines, and Ginny, sweating now, picked up her bouquet from the table where it was lying.
Hermione Granger, the maid of honor, was running towards her.
she said hurriedly, holding out something to Ginny. He said he didn't think you were wearing anything blue, and he was going to give it to you later, but he didn't want any bad luck. She pressed the object into Ginny's free hand. It was his mother's. Here, I have to run! She dashed off, and Ginny peered down at what she was holding.
It was a delicate silver ring, set with a small blue sapphire. Ginny smiled broadly as she slipped it onto her pinky finger. It was just like him to think of something like that.
Something old . . . the veil that her mother had worn at her wedding. . . .
Something new . . . her underwear had been bought yesterday. . . .
Something borrowed . . . the lipstick had been Hermione's. . . .
Something blue . . . and now this ring. . . .
She hadn't even thought of that saying until now. She didn't hold much for superstitions, but this one was fun. And if he was the one who thought of it in the first place. . . .
Ready, dear? Arthur Weasley held out his tuxedo-ed arm to her, and she clutched it nervously. You'll do just fine, he said, smiling. For him it was wonderful praise indeed, and Ginny felt so happy that she seemed to be floating. He led her over to the big doors, and as the music swelled, the ushers swung them open.
Ginny, feeling as though her heart was in her throat, stepped into the church. She was vaguely aware of familiar faces beaming at her as she passed, of friends whisperiing, Good luck!, but she couldn't look at them. Her eyes were glued to a pair of emerald ones. . . .
She was so lucky to have someone like him who was going to go through life with her, through hard times and fun times. He was everything that she wasn't, and together they were complete. She left her father's arm to take his. . . .
And she became Ginny Potter.
