I Do, For Her
Written by: Snow Illusion
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
The guests were arriving steadily. They talked to babble with small talk or to catch up with old friends. Their formal robes were tight and heavy, and itchy in the humid spring heat. Ginny wanted a wedding in spring, and Ginny would have a wedding in spring. Most of the guests could be seen padding their foreheads with a respectable lily white cloth. It was too hot for a wedding, much too hot.
The musicians were warming up and the harmonious melody of a violin sprinkled the dewy air with sentimental notes. The priest was hurriedly looking over the Bible as if he might forget his sermon in mid-sentence.
Mrs. Weasley was glowing with pride, surrounded by her flame-haired sons. She was only checking on the cake before she went rushing back into the Bride's tent where she would fret over Ginny for another half an hour or so before the ceremony would begin and she would burst into the front row, drowning in her own tears of joy. Her daughter, marrying Harry Potter! Who could've guessed?
Certainly not Harry himself, who was currently in his own tent, completely alone, staring deep into his reflection in the body-length mirror. His reflection was straightening his glasses and Harry did the same. His reflection flattened his stray away hair, mentioning that Ginny liked it when it was combed. Harry followed suit. And then his reflection picked his nose. Harry's finger was halfway up his lips when he realized what was happening.
"Almost got you," the reflection taunted and an uneasy smile lifted up one corner of Harry's lips. Not even the usual jokes could uplift Harry's spirits. It seemed as if a mound of butterflies had exploded into the pit of his stomach and fluttered into his veins and his throat. He was so jumpy. The back of his hand shot to his forehead where it was immediately drenched. And it was so goddamned hot! Why, why in this weather?
He gulped to salivate his dry mouth. He was getting married, this was it. This day seemed so far off when he first proposed, more like a dream than a reality, a reality he would never have to face. But now, now there were people here! Who had paid for gifts and taken time out of their lives to see him marry his beautiful girlfriend since sixth year! This was insanity, pure insanity. How could he have stayed with her that long? Sixth year was so far off, long before the real war set in. Almost another existence, another Harry Potter. The same girl whom he had kissed after winning the Quidditch Championship was now going to walk down the aisle, become his wife, the mother of his children. He was the envy of almost everyone. Such consistency, they preached! You know each other so well! Marriage will be so easy!
He pounded between his eyes with the heel of his hand and felt his shabby glasses break in two. Well, shit. Now he was going to be blind on his wedding day.
"Need some spell-o-tape?" came a voice from the entrance of the tent. At first he was angry, he had specifically asked for no one to visit him; he needed time to ponder.
"It's okay, I'll just use my wand," he grumbled, not even turning to look at the intruder. His hands patted his tuxedo robes frantically. Where the hell was his wand? His heart began to race.
"Spell-o-tape is better for the environment," she replied and Harry knew instantly who it was. He fought back the urge to smile and continued to fumble for his lost wand.
He felt her cool hand on his heaving shoulder instantaneously and shuddered. Slowly, slowly he turned around and came face-to-face with her.
Before another objection, however, her scarlet painted fingernails that didn't match her sky blue dress were flittering across his lashes as they wound inch after inch of musty tape between his lenses. She placed them into their rightful place before turning him back towards his mirror where they both stared at his reflection with the taped glasses that looked like they fell in through a time-warp that dated to when Harry was in fourth grade.
"I think this look suits you, Harry," she said, lacing her arms through his neck from behind and straightening his tie. He licked his lips and allowed her to continue her actions. She patted it when it was to her liking – a little crooked to the right side – and smiled dreamily.
The reflection urged Harry to turn around face her once again and he obliged.
Luna Lovegood, still wearing her bottlecap necklace and radish earrings even though it was her best friend's wedding, stood before him, decked out in a maid-of-honor's elegant gown that seemed to be made out of cloud. He felt the material within his fingers and smiled. Soft, like her. Unlike Ginny's dress, which he was almost sure composed of hard cotton.
"Hands off the goods," she joked, swatting his hand away playfully. He was surprised at the contact and grasped her hand within his and didn't let go by instinct. She didn't pull away and only let strands of dark blonde hair play between her eyes. He kissed the tip of her nose gently.
"Maybe, in another time, in another place, this would be our wedding," he offered, trying to soothe what could only be her aching heart.
She only giggled. "Not even light years away from now, in ten different hundred alternate universes where the crumpled horn snorcack flies and every wizard has a daemon, could this possibly be our wedding, Harry." She was not sad about it, in fact, she was quite the contrary. Her blue eyes were sparkling with unprecedented joy.
He blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of her odd behavior. She had always been odd, but that was why (yes, he had to admit it to himself), he had fallen in love with her after all. She was complicated and adventurous, cooky and wild, spontaneous and easily amused. He still couldn't figure out her moods even to this day.
"The fact that you mentioned that we could ever, ever marry is enough to fill a million jars of endless time," she whispered. He cradled his palm over the smooth mound of her creamy cheek. It fit so perfectly.
He was at lost for words and settled for the lovely presence of Luna. He felt it was a gift to be near her, let alone be touching this earth goddess.
He wished, oh God how he wished, that she was in the other tent, that she would be the one to walk down the aisle and exchange vows of everlasting love with him, to promise to bear sons and daughters, be the one grow old with, so old to the point where holding each other's hand was so painful you wanted to die because of the arthritis, but they did it anyways.
She turned his palm out and placed a delicate kiss on the soft tissue.
"Ginny…" he gulped. It wasn't an accusation, it was a statement and she understood.
"She is yours, and you are hers. It was set in prophecy many times ago, and it is not my place to disrupt it."
He nodded, though he didn't want to believe it.
She walked out of the tent and Harry swore he caught the sun riding the back of her dress, as if she alone commanded the light of the world.
A sob he would never cry eased into his adam's apple.
-
"Do you, Ginny Weasley, take Harry Potter, to have and to hold, through sickness and through health, for richer or for poorer, as your lawfully wedded husband, 'til death do you part?"
Tears sprinkled down her freckled cheeks and onto, as Harry had assumed, cotton wedding dress. Her hands clenched Harry's own.
"I do," she croaked.
Harry was surprised she could talk and fought the urge to roll his eyes. So sentimental and dopey, this whole affair. But this is what she wanted. Just out of his peripheral vision he saw the tips of the lilies Ginny had used for her bouquet in which Luna was currently holding. Didn't she know lilies were for funerals?
The priest turned to Harry and began the long-ended speech. Harry found himself dozing and imaging what he and Luna's wedding what have been like. They would have eloped under the stars in Arabia. Luna giggled as if she was thinking the same thing and the ceremony was halted for a brief second. Harry stole a glance. And then, finally, the home stretch.
"Do you, Harry Potter, take Ginny Weasley, to have and to hold, through sickness and through health, for richer or for poorer, as your lawfully wedded wife, 'til death do you part?"
He squeezed his soon-to-be wife's hands in affirmation and another cry wracked Ginny.
"I do," he said. And at that moment, he wanted to screw destiny and fate and whatever had been working against him at that point. These words may have been meant for Ginny, but they belonged to Luna and only Luna.
"You may now kiss the bride!"
A roar of applause broke out and Ginny's arms whipped around his neck and Harry was wrangled into a sloppy open-mouthed kiss. None of the guests were perturbed by this ugly display of affection.
They embraced fiercely after the tongue duel and Harry caught one last glance of a cheerful Luna, who was clapping along with the rest, giggling with Lavender Brown and Hermione Granger, the other bridesmaids.
I do, he mouthed.
I do, she returned, and smiled.
And Harry knew he could get through anything now. The "I do," he said aloud may have been for Ginny, but the I do he said in his heart was for Luna, and no force of power could strip him of that.