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Presents | ||||
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Category: Post-HBP Characters:Harry/Ginny Genres: Fluff, Drama, General Warnings: None Story is Complete Rating: G Reviews: 7 Summary: A companion piece to "The Unexpected," told from Ginny's point of view. You should read the first story before continuing with this. Hitcount: Story Total: 5126 |
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“I think Hermione sent us another wedding present from her parents!” More presents. How many is that now, I wonder. For the past few weeks, we’ve been bombarded with owls bringing us presents. I like presents as much as the next person, but I think Harry went a bit overboard on the registry. He never got all that many presents when he was growing up so the registry was more for him. I did, however, put my foot down when Quidditch paraphernalia was added to the list. He merely laughed and reminded me that a well-stocked broom shed is a must for every serious fan. So I begin to make my way downstairs to see what he’s unwrapped this time. I slow my pace as I get to the ground floor and notice it’s too quiet down in the kitchen. It’s nearing suppertime, and Harry said he would cook tonight. Even cooking with magic makes some sort of noise. I creep down the stairs, hoping to pounce on him and make him try to hex me or something, but as I enter the room, I find him sitting at the table reading a letter. It was on paper, not parchment, and I watch one page drift to the floor. There is a package on the table next to him and he starts opening it. Sitting on the bottom step, I watch, wondering what is in the package. He looks like he’s crying. Harry never cries, and there he was, tearing up while he is looking at something. I think it is a picture. He smiles briefly and mumbles something I can’t understand. He reaches inside the box again and pulls out a piece of jewellery. Even at this distance, I can tell that it’s beautiful. I think I see emeralds and rhinestones glitter in the sunlight. He sets the piece on the table and then rests his face on his hands. He takes a deep breath and picks up something lacy out of the box. As he holds it up, I see that it is a wedding veil. I gasp and quickly cover my mouth. It was beautiful. There are rhinestones on the headpiece and it looked like handmade lace. Tiny pearls are scattered throughout. That would look perfect with my dress. I then realise who would have sent him that package. Hermione mentioned to me once that she wrote to Harry’s aunt and uncle, telling them about the wedding. Wow. She has a heart after all. Whatever Hermione wrote, it got through to the old bat. I shake that thought away. If she is big enough to send Harry a wedding veil, which I assume was his mum’s, then I guess I’m big enough to get to know her myself. I get up and walk over to Harry, who is starting to cry again. My hand rests on his shoulder, he immediately turns to me, and I can’t help but hold him in my arms. He is crying again and I let him. It’s taken him a lifetime to get to this point and I don’t try to stop him. Nineteen years is a long time to hold things in, and I’d rather have him cry than throw things. At my last fitting, I bring along the veil. As I explain to my mother about the letter and the package, she starts to cry. Mum always did have a soft heart. Hermione sits quietly in the corner of the fitting room wringing her hands. “Should we ask her to come?” she asks. “I think that would mean a lot to Harry. But don’t tell him,” I answer her and Hermione nods in agreement. She can handle that task, I am most certain. Once my dress is on, Mum puts the veil on my head, and I was right, it does look perfect. The pearls, the lace, the rhinestones all have been made to go with this dress. I look at myself in the mirror and find it hard to believe that in four days I’m getting married. I’m going to be Harry’s wife and I am going to wear his mother’s veil. Even if she can’t be there, something of hers will. Two days before the wedding, Mum insists that I go home with her and Dad. Something about not seeing the bride on the wedding day and tradition. I decide against reminding her that Harry and I haven’t done anything remotely traditional in our relationship but I allow her to have this, as I am her only daughter. At The Burrow, Mum is a basket case. Every time we start to do something, she goes on and on about this being the last time we’ll do this before I am married. I never knew she could be so sappy. But Merlin love her, she’s my mum and I wouldn’t trade her for anything. I want to give Harry a present. Something special that would show him how much I love him. After trying for weeks to find the perfect gift, I start to give up. But then Harry told me we are going on a cruise to Mexico for our honeymoon. The little bugger. I didn’t think he knew about that dream. But then, he is a practised Legilimens now. I finally get my idea, but I have to be sneaky about it and work fast. I recruit Hermione into snooping for the name of the travel agent, and when she is successful after only five minutes, I am ecstatic. She takes me to the Muggle travel agency with my pockets full of pounds, and I make my plans. Afterwards, I’m not so sure about what I had done. Hermione reassures me that Harry would like it and that we both need some laughter in our lives. What better place to give him part of the childhood he missed than Disney World. On my wedding day, I stand alone in what used to be the drawing room, but is now Harry’s bedroom, or rather, our bedroom. I’ve lived here for months but now it’s becoming real. Today. I look at myself in the mirror, thinking about what was happening downstairs. Hermione left a few minutes ago when she saw Moody usher the woman inside. We could see perfectly from the massive window. She came. She really came. My insides start to turn flips and I wonder how he would greet her. I step to the door when I hear footsteps come up the stairs, and I peek through the crack between the door and the frame. It‘s Mum. She knocks on the door down the hall, and Ron answers. “There’s someone here to see Harry,” she said. Ron scowls. “Harry, did you hear that?” “Uh huh. Tell them to wait. I’m getting married.” He sounds annoyed. “No photographers. No reporters.” “Harry, dear,” Mum began as she steps into the room. “You really need to see them.” Several curse words fly across the hall in Harry’s voice and my mother, bless her soul, adds a few of her own. Harry emerges from the room and I hold myself back from running toward him. I’ve never seen him look so good. He mumbles something and all I catch is “annoying.” I let my imagination fill in the blanks. Ron gives something to Mum and he follows Harry down the stairs. She then starts walking toward me. “Ginny, she came! Can you believe it?” I smile and only hope that Harry would be able to let go of all that hurt. “What do you have there?” Mum holds out her hand to show me Mrs. Evans’ brooch, the one Petunia sent. Her hands tremble as she pins it to the bodice of my dress. Two tears find their way down my cheeks, but Mum, in her motherly ways, does a quick charm to stop the tears. “We’ll have none of that. It’s a happy day.” Her own tears betray her. “I’ll send up your father.” She pecks me on the cheek and quietly leaves, with only a couple sniffles accompanying her. I don’t quite remember the things that Harry and I say to each other out there in the garden. We speak of love and fate and the future. I’m just happy there is a future that Harry can look forward to. He deserves it. We all do. After we dance our first dance as husband and wife, there is an announcement that Dad and I will have our own dance. As Harry begins to move toward my mother, I catch him by the arm. He gives me a confused look. I move aside to reveal the woman who raised him and swallowed her pride to be here. “Dance with her, Harry. For me. For your Mum.” |
| Reviews 7 |
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