The fields were lush with spring flowers and new grass. The birds were singing heavenly songs. The white roses were perched atop every miniature column. The chiffon ribbons were draped from row to row. The altar was covered in lace and roses. The music began.

The ladies walked down the aisle one by one. Each of them were wearing a lusciously lavender dress. Each of them smiling for their friend's happiness, but held back their objections at her request. Then it was her turn.

The first thing he saw of his bride was the hem of satin dress. It was pushed out by two beautiful feet covered in ballet slipper style heels. Billowing around her ankles, it was pearlescent. The narrowest edge of lace was peaking out from underneath. The overlay was screening the satin of the skirt that hugged her hips. He wanted to wrap his arms around those hips. To hold them close to him was first thought. The waist of the skirt curved with her body. He remembered the many times he followed that curve with his fingers. The boned bodice entwined with lace and ribbons drew a maze of a map that led to her ample bosom. The likes of which he remembered to be soft and supple. His hands began to itch to caress the lighter flesh of them. Her arms. The arms that held him every night were slightly bent in front of her holding an array of white flowers; roses, lilies, baby's breath. The softest touch from those hands could warm his very soul, yet a lightest blow could shatter his heart.

Her arms rounded up to meet her neck. The shoulders the junction made would be the home of many of his gentle kisses. Her neck was inviting. He subconsciously licked his lips in anticipation to feel her pulse against him. That proud jaw was announcing the coming visual delight of her mouth.

It was perfectly slightly pink and glossed. Two lines of his love's torture of him curled in his direction. She did torture him with that mouth. She had planted so many gentle caresses all over his body and withdrew their touch to tease him. Now, he could hold her tighter than he ever could before. Today, she was becoming his and he could kiss those plump lips day and night until he was satisfied.

The blush in her cheeks swelled as the crowd gasped at her enamoring beauty. He could see the soul in her eyes as she softly wept tears of joy. She was marrying her true love today.

He was lost in that hazelnut depth of her eyes. Her silken hair was pulled up away from her angelic face in curls. It danced in the sunlight in hues of amber and milk chocolate; flaxen tendrils of twisted cinnamon.

The entire ceremony was full of happy giggles and soft sniffs of joyousness. The bride and groom barely moved except to speak their vows and place the rings on each others fingers. The fingers that would caress their love to full bloom. The fingers that would touch away all fears. The fingers that would catch all tears. She kissed his as she did so and he followed suit. But he kissed them all.

"Not just one, but I love them all and everything about you," he said as he looked into the russet twinkles below her brow. She melted again. Oh, the wonderful idea to melt at the sound of his sweet words everyday from this day forth. She lit the room with that striking smile. And he melted.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife," said the minister. "You may kiss your bride."

He took one look at her. He leaned in. Slowly, gently brushing his lips against hers. She accepted his token of everlasting love, and pushed herself into the kiss and into ecstasy.

They held each other close as the crowd applauded their union.

"I love you, Severus," she said.

"I love you, Hermione."