CHAPTER 64: A LAVISH WEDDING
Quickly. With just this word, almost uttered like a lament, Harry easily managed to summarize the past few weeks of his life. Time had passed so slowly that he felt as if an entire year had unfolded in ceremonial introductions, greetings from high dignitaries, and final preparations for the wedding that would unite him with Daphne. Above all, he felt an almost shameful desire for all of this to end, to return to the usual routine of his existence. Quickly... oh yes, let all of this end as soon as possible! Not that he harbored any aversion to marrying his fiancée, but he now aspired to no longer be the center of attention, the one everyone looked at, spied on, judged, and whispered about as he passed, though the latter were rare enough for him not to have heard of any guests being asked to stay elsewhere by his mother.
Yet, more than ten years ago, as James and Daphne's father signed the marriage contract that would unite their children, who would have thought it would take such proportions? Certainly not him. While the Duke of Angoulême helped him put on the final elements of his groom's outfit, Harry absentmindedly pondered this vast gap between what was supposed to be the marriage of the despised son and a young girl offered as a pledge, and this now princely union that had gathered, in Lamballe, the best of the wizarding nobility and European society, at least until some antagonisms threatened to tarnish the marriage.
His attention was also distracted as he surreptitiously observed the men in the room. Apart from Cygnus, who, as a stepfather, had been given permission to attend the dressing ceremony, unfortunately, no other familiar face was present in his room, at least not a face Harry could consider friendly. Neither his godfather, nor any of his servants, nor even his regiment comrades had been allowed to set foot in the antechamber and the adjoining salon to his quarters. All were relegated to other distant rooms with the rest of the guests before Harry and Daphne would parade before them on their way to the chapel.
Nothing but men, mostly elderly and gruff, royal blood princes, dukes, marquises, or even counts, accepted by the king and without the consent of the first concerned, passed clothing to each other, each considering it an honorable duty to dress a prince. And to think that Daphne was undergoing the same in her own room! Fortunately, she could rely on the support of the Princess of Lamballe and other benevolent ladies to dress her, but the idea of knowing her naked in front of strangers revolted him as much as he had struggled to accept doing the same in front of these men.
Anxiety also gripped him as the seconds passed, and the religious ceremony approached. He almost felt like he could hear the organ starting to play a few dozen meters away, accompanied by the chants of the choirboys as the clergy finished preparing their service before the arrival of the first guests and the two newlyweds. Or was it simply in his head? He himself did not know, but he would not be surprised if the unfolding of the wedding had once again played out in his mind without him really being aware of it.
Yet, the day before, Harry had already had a taste of what the wedding could truly be like when, accompanied by Daphne, their respective families, and the castle servants, they had headed to the village of Lamballe. In front of the mayor, city councilors, and the notables of this small town, they had exchanged vows and wedding rings. The king, and the nobles accompanying him, had preferred to stay at the castle, officially stating that they would not be welcome, but unofficially expressing their reluctance to mingle with the populace.
"What a pity for them," Harry had thought in the midst of the celebrations that had erupted in the village during the day. With fountains of wine installed at the four corners of Lamballe, baskets of food for the poorest inhabitants, money thrown to a crowd rushing to collect coins falling to the ground, multiple viol concerts spontaneously appearing in certain alleys and on the village square accompanied by singing, dancing, and a joyful and festive atmosphere, it could not be said that one had been bored. Even if the main actors of these festivities had spent most of their day in the town hall reception room, only mingling with the crowd with the assurance that nothing unpleasant would happen to them.
But, by Harry's own admission, he had rarely had so much fun, and he doubted that this day would be as enjoyable. The protocol had been simplified, the guests had been chosen by him and Daphne, the ceremony had been simple and intimate, and, most importantly, he had the opportunity to get married dressed in his shining hussar uniform, far from the pompous and expensive outfit in which they were now trying to confine him. And to his great joy, Pajol had honored him with his presence.
"Extend your foot," suddenly asked the Duke of Noailles, interrupting his train of thought. Without hesitation, Harry first offered his left foot, on which the duke fitted a black shoe with a silver buckle. The second foot received the same favor under the watchful eye of the king and his family, who observed their proceedings in silence. The atmosphere was solemn, heavy, and frankly cold, but there was no room for joy in what they were doing. With his work complete, the duke stood up and bowed one last time to Harry as he rose from his seat to observe himself in the mirror of his room. By Merlin, thank goodness his mother had chosen the outfit he would wear according to his tastes! He dared not imagine if Louis XVIII had had a say in the matter... Surely, it would be far from the current result!
"Turn around, Mr. de Lamballe," ordered the king as he remained seated. "Let us admire what a French prince should look like." Aware that there was no escape for him to avoid parading, Harry could only obey his uncle's order. Turning slowly on himself, he let these gentlemen nod in approval or briefly discuss his appearance in hushed voices. Certainly, the king would never have allowed him to get married in his military uniform; it would have only reminded him too much that another currently sat on his throne, and Harry willingly served him.
"Curious how this day reminds me of old memories," Louis XVIII commented absentmindedly as he looked at him. "Years have passed, but I have never forgotten the apprehension that overcame me as I was about to marry the woman who would still be my wife today. I had no idea of the happiness that this relationship would bring me, and I hope yours will keep you just as free from unhappiness as for the queen and me."
Harry, though skeptical about this admission, refrained from making any comments and opted for a compromise that would please everyone: a slight nod of the head followed by a smile that seemed nervous and seemed to have the desired effect, as the king's good humor quickly returned.
"But enough of useless chatter! Today is your day, and you will be the center of attention for all the kind souls who have had it in their hearts to come and share this moment of happiness with you!"
Again, Harry was more dubious than in agreement with the king, especially when it was known that most of the guests, if not a good part of them, had been invited by himself without him or even Marie-Louise having a say in the matter. It was in the midst of this catastrophe that additional seats were set up for the banquet, and even a third ballroom for secondary guests was hastily prepared.
"Let's not keep these ladies waiting any longer," the king said as he struggled to get up from his chair. Speaking, he gave a brief nod to the two men closest to the entrance, who almost seemed to melt onto the two doors to open them promptly. Of course, to demonstrate his major role even on this day, the king positioned himself in front of Harry, followed just after by the rest of the royal family, who had to follow the groom very closely. As soon as the doors leading to the salon were opened, and Harry's arrival was announced, the doors in front of him opened simultaneously to reveal, in their doorway, his fiancée. Both entered the room at the same time, and Harry and Daphne could not take their eyes off each other as they observed and admired each other with the same gaze filled with both love and anxiety. In an empire-style dress of immaculate white flowing gracefully over the carpet and adorned with lace with floral motifs, hair styled in a bun with a few curls falling on her forehead and sides, a tiara set with diamonds, and a few jewels completing her outfit, Daphne was absolutely beautiful. From what he could judge by her gaze, she probably thought the same about him. Ignoring the flattering comments of the other people present, Harry advanced towards her, and, seizing her gloved hand, he gently kissed it as she responded with a slight curtsy.
"Wait until tonight to allow yourselves such familiarities, young people," advised the king in a joking tone. "You will have the whole evening to express to each other the love that will bind you for life."
Daphne's cheeks blushed slightly on her ivory skin, but she managed to maintain her composure despite the faint laughter that could be heard. Harry royally ignored his uncle's comment and turned to his mother, who looked at him with the same adoration as if he had presented her with her first grandchild. He allowed himself the same familiarity as with Daphne before also offering his arm to his mother, who eagerly seized it.
"Let's not keep our guests waiting any longer," declared the king, while Daphne's father also allowed his daughter to take his arm. As if an order, the third pair of doors in the room opened to let them venture towards the corridor that would lead them back to the entrance. Already, many guests awaited them, eager to be the first to admire the future spouses in the flesh and comment on each other's outfits. Gossip quickly spread, at least once the king, the families of the two fiancés, and the prominent nobles had passed. This happened in every room, corridor, and hall they crossed in a flawless procession; everyone should see them, even the mere servants bustling about with the final preparations, even if it took ten minutes for a journey that would ordinarily take much less. Everyone complied without grumbling or showing the slightest sign of annoyance, except for Rosie, chosen as one of the bridesmaids and having to traverse the rooms on the arm of the Count of Artois. She struggled to hide the embarrassment the old man caused her every time he complimented her on her youthful beauty and the flower in full bloom that she seemed to be. Remus and Lily, although closely connected to the fiancés, did not have the chance to parade alongside them, and that was the only dark spot that darkened Harry's thoughts.
At the bottom of the staircase, which they descended with dignified steps, Harry spotted them in the midst of the crowd of courtiers. While the latter seemed mainly focused on catching the king's attention, Harry could feel the gaze of his other mother on him—a gaze full of love, affection, and pride, a gaze he could only glimpse from afar among all these curious onlookers who would probably only reappear in Lamballe if the king was there again. "Courtiers, after all," he thought, suppressing the urge to roll his eyes. "I shouldn't even be surprised."
His nervousness continued to grow as he saw all these faces turned towards them. He found himself feeling an increasingly strong acceleration of his pulse as he approached the exit. His mother must have felt it too because he felt her tighten her grip on his arm, but he never looked at her to confirm it. Instead, he kept a completely impassive expression on his face, offering a few faint, strained smiles to some people around him as the guests parted to create a wide passage for them towards the courtyard.
Several carriages were parked in front of the entrance, and following protocol, Daphne led the way by entering the first one with her parents. Next was his, and once again, Harry was quickly followed by his mother and the king, who served as a fatherly figure for the young groom. With a tinge of regret, Harry sadly looked at his other mother and his godfather, excluded from this long line of carriages because they officially had no blood ties to the two young fiancés. However, they still had a place well-prepared for them in the chapel. As his carriage already left the castle's inner courtyard to head towards the chapel adjoining the building, he tried to wave to the rest of his family while having the curious feeling of being led to the gallows.
Their journey lasted only a few tens of seconds, no more than five minutes at most, before his carriage stopped at the entrance of the small religious building. The small door of his carriage was quickly opened by a valet dressed in bright colors reminiscent of his mother's duchy. Following the king's request to descend after the Princess of Lamballe, Harry set foot on the ground and nervously surveyed the surroundings, paying no attention to the chapel he had visited so often and which would soon witness a brutal change in his life.
The chapel was already filled with people, at least in the last rows occupied by everyone who was not of noble blood but was still invited to the ceremony. A small tune was already being played inside to distract the increasingly restless guests. Swallowing like never before, Harry managed to control himself and respectfully greet the archbishop who approached him with his cohort of clergymen. The archbishop was ecstatic about having the distinct honor today of marrying a prince of blood to a young and charming Englishwoman.
"In His grace and kindness, God has deigned to offer me the privilege today to unite in His abode two young beings whose marriage, I dare hope, will be the expression of a softening of hearts filled with hatred between our two nations. May your alliance augur better auspices for our two countries," he had declared, addressing the king more elaborately.
Harry, out of the corner of his eye, made sure that Daphné wouldn't faint from nervousness at any moment. However, his fiancée managed to maintain her composure and demonstrated remarkable poise on this occasion. He didn't have time to dwell on this further because the archbishop entered the chapel again, and Daphné positioned herself in the central aisle, holding her father's left arm. Harry followed suit, offering his arm to his mother, while the king was accompanied by Belvina for the occasion. The music played a new, more solemn tune, and immediately their small procession headed towards the heart of the chapel, followed by the rest of the guests who, having arrived by carriage in the meantime, had to accompany them in the same order: a parent of the groom and bride together, and the young girls always in the company of the man they had been introduced to a few days earlier, who would act as their chaperone for the day.
As soon as Daphné entered, the guests who were already present stood up, most of her relatives on the left side of the nave, those of Harry on the right. Meanwhile, young children, designated for this purpose, held a sieve over her, attempting with more or less success to keep it balanced and not disturb her hairstyle. The path to the altar seemed endless to Harry, and it was only when he and Daphné were kneeling on prie-dieux that he suddenly became aware of the world around him, which continued to grow. Their parents and the king immediately stood beside them, all facing the archbishop, who was already preparing for the ceremony. In a religious silence broken only by the played music and the scraping of chairs, people took their seats.
The religious ceremony then started with a sermon from the archbishop, quite long and frankly boring for the two young married people. It was interspersed with the exchange of rings, Harry's monetary gift for the clergy, and numerous Latin chants. However, Harry was unable to recall the exact order in which everything unfolded. Without even realizing it, the ceremony was already over, and a bell was ringing in the surroundings, accompanied by some cheers that were quickly silenced by scandalized looks due to such audacity. After signing the register, Harry and Daphné stood side by side, Daphné's parents on the left and Harry's on the right, while all the guests joined in a chorus of applause and congratulations echoing throughout the chapel. The two newlyweds led the way once again, this time towards the exit. Harry took advantage of the tradition to introduce Daphné to the guests she unfortunately did not know – and there were many of them! Meanwhile, Belvina had the role of doing the same with the Greengrass family members that Harry had not had the chance to meet before.
Throughout this time, Harry couldn't help but look in the direction of his wife, a smile never leaving his face as he received praise from men and women, complimenting him on the choice of the bride and offering him some advice to help make his marriage last. His wife... What a peculiar sensation at just the thought! A shiver ran through him just thinking of her in that way, yet he couldn't help but find it strange to think of the young girl accompanying him in this manner.
The cheers intensified as they left the chapel, and thousands of flower petals fell on their heads as they graciously greeted the people present. The festivities continued, and it was already time for the newlyweds to attend the long and, to be quite honest, very tedious session of official presentations in the grand hall. Seated on chairs facing the main entrance, Harry and Daphné had to, for more than an hour, welcome one by one the guests who had not yet been introduced, depending on whether they were related to the groom's or bride's family, or simply affiliated with one or the other through friendly, professional, or diplomatic ties. Presented by Marie-Louise or Belvina, each person approached them, bowed deeply, exchanged a few pleasantries, and offered them a wedding gift before joining the crowd that gradually gathered on the sides, leaving space for newcomers to approach them.
Madame Davis, accompanied by her daughter, had the honor of this presentation, as did other magical families from England, such as the Zabinis, Longbottoms, or McMillans, who could have, under different circumstances, been close friends of Harry and Daphné. Unfortunately, others, like Harry's war comrades or the shy Lucie, were not so fortunate.
Curiously, Harry also had a visit from the Hogwarts Potions professor, and while he showed nothing, this visit genuinely bewildered him. This feeling was heightened, especially when his mother introduced him as a member of an ancient family that had faithfully served hers in the past. Nevertheless, he welcomed the professor with the same feigned politeness as the others, expressing sincere thanks when he presented the wedding gift he had brought—a potions kit—before blending into the crowd of guests. He never noticed the turmoil in his other mother's eyes when they fell on the silhouette of his old friend for the first time in a long while.
At exactly 4 o'clock, the wedding reception gave way to the bridal feast, and leading the vast human tide through the maze of castle rooms, Harry guided them towards the banquet hall. This hall, already usually large, had been magically enlarged by Marie-Louise, and tables were set everywhere to meet the needs of the most distinguished guests. The largest one, located in front of them, almost spanned the entire width of the hall, and around it, servants were busy making the final touches before the hosts took their seats. Harry immediately led Daphné to it, while others, in the same planned protocol order, headed there as well to take their designated seats: The bride and groom facing each other, Cygnus to the left of Daphné, and the king to her right. Harry had Belvina and his mother as neighbors for the occasion, each facing their husband and parent, respectively. With the scraping of chairs being pulled for the ladies by the gentlemen, lively conversations punctuating the atmosphere, and servants hurrying from one table to another to guide the guests, the feast seemed finally ready to begin, and a small orchestra started playing a peaceful tune, even if it was challenging to hear it clearly. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw his wife sigh with relief, and noticing that she had been spotted, Daphné offered a sheepish smile, to which he responded with a teasing smirk.
"Already exhausted?" he whispered lowly, audible only to her.
"I've had better days," she admitted in a soft voice.
"I didn't dare make the request, my dear princess, but I can't wait to know the menu you've concocted for us on this wonderful day," the king said, looking at Marie-Louise.
"I hope it will suit your majesty's tastes. I took great care to choose some dishes that I knew you were very fond of, sire," Marie-Louise assured him immediately. "However, it seemed evident to me that we should also please our two young married couples, so your majesty will excuse me for any necessary adjustments that may not suit you in the order of the dishes."
At the same time, she gently squeezed her son's hand resting on the table, which he promptly took delicately to place a kiss on it.
"Madame my mother's solicitude has always prevailed over her own interests," Harry added. "The concern for the well-being of others remains and will always be the idea that dictates her conduct for years to come. Never will you see so much kindness in someone than in her."
"And never will you see so much flattery coming from such a pretty mouth than in Mr. my son," she said with the same teasing tone.
The king smiled at these playful exchanges but did not utter a word. In any case, with the ambient hubbub in the room, it would have been difficult to listen to conversations just a few seats away from their position.
Gradually, the dishes made their appearance, and everyone could then help themselves from the dishes placed at their disposal. Amusement also surfaced when the English guests, accustomed to the table manners of their country, seemed taken aback by the idea of not having to be served by others but rather to pick for themselves from the different dishes. Conversations were lively, and Harry found himself enjoying the friendliness and sense of humor of the Count of Artois, the king's brother. Obviously, the man had always been like this, and from what he could observe, his mother and he had been very close in the past to have been intimate with the former queen. Good vibes were certainly present, and Harry couldn't have wished for a better atmosphere for his wedding. The king seemed rather indifferent to the table conversations, and soon he excused himself to go talk to other people without anyone trying to keep him.
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