A.N. One-shot... a certain someone's thoughts on Bill and Fleur's wedding.
This is a first fan fiction, but not a first story. Reviews much appreciated.
A breeze wafted through the trees and ruffled the hair of the guests. Sitting in rows on uncomfortable plastic chairs was a gathering of what looked like every redhead in England. An occasional brunette or blonde broke the field, but the effect was decidedly ginger. Standing at the front in a small knot of people was a tall man with a ponytail, who might once have been handsome, but who now had great gashes out of cheek and chin, and whose left eye was permanently swollen shut. Despite his injuries, he was beaming, or so it seemed to a tall, gangling figure standing in the shade of a tree near the back of the crowd. As the man watched, a vision in white and silver advanced up the aisle left between the rows of chairs, looking thoroughly out of place in the crimson sea. Fleur Delacour glided up the row, and from where he stood, the observer could see that the delicate face behind the veil was shaped into a blissful smile.
Preceding Fleur were two smaller shadows, who looked equally lovely, although they could not have been less alike. On the left, a tiny silver-haired girl who appeared to be a miniature of her beautiful sister; but on the right…. The man's heart gave a pang. A tall, freckled redhead waved to the audience as she tossed yellow petals from a basket onto the grass in front of Fleur. The girls' golden-hued dresses suited them both well, and the man thought how fitting it was that the two soon-to-be sisters were to share this task.
The watcher felt the need to see the wedding canopy more clearly more clearly, and shuffled along towards the front, trying hard to remain unnoticed. He shifted his glasses up onto his long nose, and looked out from behind another tree to see more closely the gathering under the canopy. An older, but still handsome black-haired man, he could not at first place, but when he saw the way that the man was gazing at Fleur, the observer realized that he must be Jean-Luc, Mr. Delacour. Fleur's mother had passed away several years ago, but the man beneath the bower seemed content for the moment, his eyes tearing up slightly. Another red head peered from behind Bill, and with another stab, the watcher recognized a pair of burnt hands. Of course, Bill would have had Charlie as his best man. His best brother. The man behind the tree felt his chest tighten. Other than the priest, in ceremonial robes of pale grey, the area under the canopy was empty. Trying to hide his hair in the shade, the man stuck out his head to search again. He didn't have far to look.
In the front row, quite near his tree, were seated seven people the man knew too well to miss. On the far right, closest to him, was a black-haired boy with unruly hair and glasses. He had his face turned towards the bower, but the man in hiding knew that if the child – although he was barely a child anymore – turned towards him, he would see emerald-green eyes under a thin red scar. Next to him, looking slightly tearful was a girl with a mass of curly mouse-brown hair in lovely periwinkle dress robes. The observer smiled. He had, after all, always gotten along well with Hermione Granger.
The man's eyes traveled to the two sitting to the left of Harry and Hermione. Some would have had difficulty telling them apart (today they were wearing matching dress robes of a surprisingly subdued green) but the watching man knew he would never have trouble knowing who was who. He had, surreptitiously, entered their shop… even bought an edible Dark Mark from an assistant to eat as he walked along Diagon Alley. They had done well for themselves. He felt an unexpected surge of pride welling up in his chest, but continued to the taller boy sitting to their right… ever closer to the canopy. Navy blue dress robes were not perhaps quite the thing for a wedding, but they suited the skinny boy well. He was watching Fleur, Ginny and Gabrielle ascending the aisle with some interest – at first the watcher thought Fleur's unusual radiance had put him out of commission before realizing that Ron was merely watching the three of them with brotherly affection. The watcher nodded approvingly although suppressing a smile, his curly hair moving in the pleasant breeze. It would not do for Ronald to house affection for his brother's wife.
Slowly, ever so slowly, the man turned to the couple sitting at the end of the row. His chest tightened and his eyes started to swim, but he kept calm. The thin, balding man – looking really quite handsome in a Muggle tuxedo – had his arm around a small red haired woman who looked tired, but happy. The observer noticed with slight alarm that some of the plumpness had gone out of her cheeks, and that she looked a bit haggard. She also had something roughly circular folded in the voluminous fabric of her golden dress robes. The man behind the tree wiped away something from the corner of his eye as the priest finished his speech.
" - So long as you both shall live?"
"I do." "I do." The first voice was a bit throaty, and the second died into a bit of a growl, but both sounded genuinely happy. The man behind the tree watched the wizard tap two golden rings lying on a small cushion beside him, and they lifted slowly in the air with a chiming sound. A bright golden light emitted from them, and a strand connected the two as Bill and Fleur slipped the still-glowing rings onto their fingers. As the light faded, the priest announced, with his arms outstretched:
"I pronounce you man and wife."
Fleur pulled back her veil, and began to cry tears of unfettered joy.
In the silence during the kiss, two things happened.
The man standing behind the tree looked straight at the no-longer so plump woman sitting in the front row, and whispered "I'm sorry."
And on the magical clock Mrs. Weasley had folded in her lap, the slender hand labeled "Percy Weasley" shifted from Lost to Home.