Disclaimer:I own only the magical wedding ceremony and all things
pertaining thereto. Everyone and everything else belongs to J.K.
Rowling, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Author's Note: Welcome to the WIZARD WEDDING OF THE MILLENNIUM!
I admit to having read only a few stories presenting the marriage of Harry and Hermione, but those I have seen feature ceremonies virtually identical to Muggle wedding ceremonies. But I wondered: Would a witch and wizard marry in the same fashion as two Muggles? Then, too -- do not we Muggles have many different ways to marry, from a simple exchanging of vows to grand, orthodox ceremonies that have endured for centuries? And I wondered anew: What might the most orthodox and revered ceremony of marriage in the wizarding world be like?
I hereby present to you, the readers, such a ceremony. In so doing, I sincerely hope that I have not inadvertently duplicated the work of another fan writer in this regard. As I have read only a small fraction of the 80,000 + stories on this site, there is always the chance that I am treading a path already blazed by another. But I fervently hope that what you are about to read is like nothing you have seen before. If anything in this chapter, or in the 24 that follow, mirrors the work of another, I hereby apologize in advance.
I should mention in passing that this story was written more than a year ago, long before any details about Order of the Phoenix were known. I could have added a few details and characters from the new book; I was sorely tempted to sneak in Luna Lovegood, whom I suspect will soon supplant Lavender Brown as Ron's soul mate in the H/Hr shipper's official canon. But that would have required a major re-working of Ron's psyche, which would, in turn, have unraveled much of the tapestry I have woven here. So, for our purposes, the events in OotP did not occur, and Luna Lovegood is still a neighbor whose presence has not yet been revealed.
I think that about covers it. And now, without further ado: The Joining.
***
The Muggles saw it only as a bleak hill, topped by gnarled scrub, surrounded by swamps and bogs and DANGER KEEP OUT signs.
The wizarding world saw it as something completely different.
Four individuals approached from opposite sides: pairs consisting of two male and two female.
They walked through a broad, flat expanse of meadow, treading a cobbled path of unguessed age which was worn smooth from the gentle pad of countless thousands of feet.
Each pair was marked by the fact that one was garbed in simple black robes, while the other was clad in robes of purest white, surmounted by a hood of like material which hid the face of the wearer. Also notable, though not significant, was the fact that both of the black-robed Attendants bore a head of flaming red hair.
With slow, unhurried tread the marchers approached a low, smooth dome of brilliant white, gleaming like a flattened moon against the lush, waving grass.
A short distance from the dome, the path declined. Shallow steps appeared, terminating at an archway in which was set a door of pure silver. Devoid of handle or hinge, its pale surface was chased with fine gold in the pattern of runes and symbols that were old when the world was young. These markings orbited a hemispherical depression just above the center, and into this niche was set a single white candle.
Both sets of walkers stopped and stared.
The two males turned to face each other, the one peering out from under his white hood with clear emerald eyes.
The red-head spoke:
"This is it, mate. Last chance."
The other made no reply. He drew his wand from his snowy robes and touched the tip to the candle wick. Without benefit of incantation, a flame appeared. As the two watched, the silver door shimmered like mist on a moor; it became translucent; it was gone.
Only the candle remained, hovering magically in mid-air.
On the other side of the dome, a girl with long, flowing red hair was observing a similar phenomenon with another white-robed figure. She turned to this one with apprehension on her freckle-dusted face.
The face just visible under the white hood was impassive, but the deep brown eyes were resolute. The two exchanged a brief hug before the red-haired girl stepped back and folded her hands, her knuckles showing white. The other strode forward, passing through the arched doorway. The candle moved with her, floating ahead to light her path. No sooner had she stepped across the threshold than the doorway shimmered as with waves of Summer heat. The silver door reappeared, a fresh candle in its concave niche.
The red-haired girl stared at the barrier for a moment, then mounted the low steps to the level surface above.
The red-haired young man was waiting for her. She ran to him, fell into his arms. They hugged briefly, then parted, the girl's eyes moist.
"I didn't think it would be so hard, Ron. I thought I could let go, but..."
The young man nodded.
"I know," he said softly. "I'd give anything to be in his place right now.
"You okay, Gin?"
Ginny Weasley wiped her eyes.
"No. But I will be. If not today...then someday..."
"There's always a chance," Ron said with a forlorn hope. "They may not...you know..."
"They will," Ginny said with painful certainty. "They were meant to be. I wish it wasn't so. I wish it with all my heart -- for both of us. But -- "
She sobbed softly, and her brother hugged her gently.
"Only for you, mate," he whispered, his eyes on the luminous dome, which blurred slightly from the beginnings of tears. "Only for you.
"Be good to her."
Author's Note: Welcome to the WIZARD WEDDING OF THE MILLENNIUM!
I admit to having read only a few stories presenting the marriage of Harry and Hermione, but those I have seen feature ceremonies virtually identical to Muggle wedding ceremonies. But I wondered: Would a witch and wizard marry in the same fashion as two Muggles? Then, too -- do not we Muggles have many different ways to marry, from a simple exchanging of vows to grand, orthodox ceremonies that have endured for centuries? And I wondered anew: What might the most orthodox and revered ceremony of marriage in the wizarding world be like?
I hereby present to you, the readers, such a ceremony. In so doing, I sincerely hope that I have not inadvertently duplicated the work of another fan writer in this regard. As I have read only a small fraction of the 80,000 + stories on this site, there is always the chance that I am treading a path already blazed by another. But I fervently hope that what you are about to read is like nothing you have seen before. If anything in this chapter, or in the 24 that follow, mirrors the work of another, I hereby apologize in advance.
I should mention in passing that this story was written more than a year ago, long before any details about Order of the Phoenix were known. I could have added a few details and characters from the new book; I was sorely tempted to sneak in Luna Lovegood, whom I suspect will soon supplant Lavender Brown as Ron's soul mate in the H/Hr shipper's official canon. But that would have required a major re-working of Ron's psyche, which would, in turn, have unraveled much of the tapestry I have woven here. So, for our purposes, the events in OotP did not occur, and Luna Lovegood is still a neighbor whose presence has not yet been revealed.
I think that about covers it. And now, without further ado: The Joining.
The Muggles saw it only as a bleak hill, topped by gnarled scrub, surrounded by swamps and bogs and DANGER KEEP OUT signs.
The wizarding world saw it as something completely different.
Four individuals approached from opposite sides: pairs consisting of two male and two female.
They walked through a broad, flat expanse of meadow, treading a cobbled path of unguessed age which was worn smooth from the gentle pad of countless thousands of feet.
Each pair was marked by the fact that one was garbed in simple black robes, while the other was clad in robes of purest white, surmounted by a hood of like material which hid the face of the wearer. Also notable, though not significant, was the fact that both of the black-robed Attendants bore a head of flaming red hair.
With slow, unhurried tread the marchers approached a low, smooth dome of brilliant white, gleaming like a flattened moon against the lush, waving grass.
A short distance from the dome, the path declined. Shallow steps appeared, terminating at an archway in which was set a door of pure silver. Devoid of handle or hinge, its pale surface was chased with fine gold in the pattern of runes and symbols that were old when the world was young. These markings orbited a hemispherical depression just above the center, and into this niche was set a single white candle.
Both sets of walkers stopped and stared.
The two males turned to face each other, the one peering out from under his white hood with clear emerald eyes.
The red-head spoke:
"This is it, mate. Last chance."
The other made no reply. He drew his wand from his snowy robes and touched the tip to the candle wick. Without benefit of incantation, a flame appeared. As the two watched, the silver door shimmered like mist on a moor; it became translucent; it was gone.
Only the candle remained, hovering magically in mid-air.
On the other side of the dome, a girl with long, flowing red hair was observing a similar phenomenon with another white-robed figure. She turned to this one with apprehension on her freckle-dusted face.
The face just visible under the white hood was impassive, but the deep brown eyes were resolute. The two exchanged a brief hug before the red-haired girl stepped back and folded her hands, her knuckles showing white. The other strode forward, passing through the arched doorway. The candle moved with her, floating ahead to light her path. No sooner had she stepped across the threshold than the doorway shimmered as with waves of Summer heat. The silver door reappeared, a fresh candle in its concave niche.
The red-haired girl stared at the barrier for a moment, then mounted the low steps to the level surface above.
The red-haired young man was waiting for her. She ran to him, fell into his arms. They hugged briefly, then parted, the girl's eyes moist.
"I didn't think it would be so hard, Ron. I thought I could let go, but..."
The young man nodded.
"I know," he said softly. "I'd give anything to be in his place right now.
"You okay, Gin?"
Ginny Weasley wiped her eyes.
"No. But I will be. If not today...then someday..."
"There's always a chance," Ron said with a forlorn hope. "They may not...you know..."
"They will," Ginny said with painful certainty. "They were meant to be. I wish it wasn't so. I wish it with all my heart -- for both of us. But -- "
She sobbed softly, and her brother hugged her gently.
"Only for you, mate," he whispered, his eyes on the luminous dome, which blurred slightly from the beginnings of tears. "Only for you.
"Be good to her."