Falling For

Ginny and Hermione were very excited about the wedding. I did not exactly understand the unnecessary giggling but I was very exuberant about being included. With the fluff of dresses and the silk of hair, we were crowded into Ginny’s bedroom as we prepared ourselves for the big day that was to follow us.

During the days buried deep at the Burrow, I had sewn myself another dress. It wasn’t as extravagant as my last creation, but I knew I would feel comfortable in it. With bundles of material, I had crafted a knee-length deep purple number that was perfect for dancing. My feet were aching just to get into the heels I had bought just for the occasion.

The tent outside was rippling with the soft morning wind, the sun that beamed down on us washing a warm feeling over the recently somewhat sombre Burrow. However, the excitement caused by the wedding had cheered everyone up - and even if it was just for the afternoon, we all felt a little better about our situations.

Holding my hair out over my shoulders (it had grown a little more since I had last mentioned, now sitting just above my shoulder blades in a stage I like to call 'casually non-committed to the idea of a haircut'), I brushed it quietly with my wand; wrist strong and poised beside my head.

“You look amazing, Hermione.” Ginny complemented her shorter counterpart, watching the brunette straighten out her bushy locks into smooth strands of silken.

“You too.” She beamed cheerfully from underneath her light make up. “And Mignon, your dress is beautiful. You did a really lovely job.”

“Thank you.” I breathed gently from the other side of the room in front of a conjured mirror, my concentration peaking for the day. “You both look simply fantastic. Really.” Thickening my hair with the complementary use of magic, I straightened out myself and turned - summoning my warmest smile. “I can’t wait to see her dress, though.”

“Flown from the finest French boutique, I’m sure.” Ginny scoffed as she bolded her eyelashes. “But I bet it’s going to be beautiful anyway. She's always so well-dressed." She finished in a mumble, losing herself within the mascara. "I have to go join the wedding party as soon as I’m finished here anyway. We all have to dress her and whatnot, though I’m sure I wont get a hand in with all ze Veelas fluttering around.” Slightly embittered by the situation, Ginny stopped. “It’s not that I hate her, but goodness, sometimes she is a handful.”

“Well, she makes Bill happy.” Hermione noted and Ginny perked up.

“Oh, yeah, definitely. This wedding will go down in Weasley history, that’s for sure.” Finally brightened, her face pulled into a very casual smile; content with the world for a moment before her eyes turned to me. “And your wedding will be soon, no doubt.” The tell-tale Weasley grin slid across her face.

“Oh, ah…” I paused. “Maybe.” A small smile crept onto my lips, resting there for a short while. “Ask your brother.”

“So how many years now?” Hermione asked curiously, watching as my cheeks tinted a shy pink. “Nearly four now, I think.”

“Four this Christmas.” My smile returned and I hopelessly brushed my hair back over my shoulders. “But I don’t know quite yet. We’re happy how we are right now. And with everything happening I don’t think it would be fair to anyone…”

“Maybe it’d brighten the atmosphere a little more.” Hermione returned, a tinge of concern in her voice. “Things do seem to be taking a turn for the worst.” Ginny shot her a knowing look and my face fell in exhaustion.

“I think it would break his heart if I proposed first, so I’ll let him take his time.” I forced out, gathering the waist of my dress and sitting it proper on my body. “But it shouldn’t be too long now.” I assured. Both girls brightened.

“I can’t wait for you to be an official member of the family, Min. It’s been long enough.”

“That’s true.” I finally grinned. “I can’t wait either.”

“Ginny!” There was a knock on the door and Mrs Weasley burst in, shutting the rickety wooden thing behind her. “Aunt Muriel’s here. I’m rather busy fixing the catering right now. Can you please keep her company until we have to help Fleur? I’ll send Ron down to help.”

Ginny’s exasperated sigh echoed around the room and her mother shot her a look, slipping out into the hallway quickly to avoid the grumbling old woman that sat in the living room. The redheaded girl refused to leave for another good three minutes, complaining about the audacity of Aunt Muriel and her inability to say anything remotely nice about anything.

That left Hermione and I, standing around in the room while she continued to straighten her always out-of-control hair. I gave up being socially awkward for a few moments to help, taking strands and running the Sleakeasy’s hair potion through it with my shaky hands. We chatted timidly about whatever we could, filling the gap with talks of books and the state of the Weasley family during George’s mishap.

I guess I hadn’t always given Hermione enough credit towards her caring personality. The way she spoke about the ginger family with such boundless love made me happy to know her and who she was - how humble and courageous she had always been throughout her schooling years. The simple muggleborn had turned into such a beautiful young woman. I was almost jealous.

A knock sounded from the door. “Are you decent, ladies?”

The door opened regardless, revealing my boyfriend and his identical brother.

“Mignon! What are you doing in here? Honestly….” George sighed at me, scratching the white bandage that had been wrapped around his head. “Oh, look at that; we match.”

“That was the point.” I deadpanned at him. “You both look very handsome, though.” Swooping up to steal a kiss from George, I punched Fred lightly on the shoulder before pushing them both out of the room. “However, you could have at least waited for us to open the door.”

“We knocked.” Fred answered.

“Common courtesy, really.” George finished.

“Are Harry and Ron around?” Hermione piped up from behind me. Fred quirked his brow, looking over his brother's shoulder curiously.

“They’re scheming in their room.” He told her. “Well, don’t you scrub up nicely.”

“I’m taking that as a complement.” She sniffed at them before smiling shyly. “Thank you, Fred. I’ll see you later Mignon.” She added as she slipped passed the two boys.

“Bye.” I watched her leave, straightening George’s lopsided tie after she had drifted down the hall. “Are you excited, boys?”

“So excited.” Fred mumbled.

“Basically over the moon.” George furthered, leaving me to scowl at the both of them. “It’s not everyday I get to stand around for an hour or so dressed up like a right git.” He loosened his purple tie, ruining my work and making Fred snicker behind him.

“When I get married, I’m going to hire out a Quidditch pitch and have the ceremony on broomsticks.” Fred clasped his hands together as we moved out of the doorway, down the hall and towards the stairs. “And we wont be wearing these daft-looking suits. You can all wear whatever you want.”

“Now that’s exciting!” George gushed, scratching his bandage again. He caught my scolding stare and he stopped the itching, gingerly grinning at me as he jumped off the last step.

“Yes - and when you two get married, you should hold it inside of the store. It will save hiring fees and there’s no drunk apparition home!”

“So thoughtful, Fred.” I groaned at him and he gave me a suave grin, letting me punch his shoulder again. George just grinned down at me, identical to his brothers in every way, leaving me to roll my eyes at the two men that lived in my heart.



The ceremony was beautiful, leaving Molly and Mrs Delacour in tears the minute it started. Everyone that sat below the tents that day told me of the wondrous set up, asking me to pass on complements to the family that had pulled it all off.

I sat curled up at a table near the back of the tent, enjoying the reception from a distance as I guffawed over the flocks of Veela that had attached themselves to Fred’s skinny arms after his large dance session with George and I. We, however, were stuck with an unkempt gaggle of middle-aged women who were painstakingly gossiping over the Lovegood’s choice of clothing.

“I just can’t wait for this to be over.” George groaned from the palm of his hand, elbow uneasily resting on the table. I snorted at him, taking a sip of my wine and eying off his Firewhiskey. It had been a while since we had gotten drunk, and when we did, our time consisted of wedding talk anyway. “I have a lovely, raging headache.”

“Poor sweetheart.” I sighed at him, swirling his drink with a flick of my wand, mixing in a small ‘feel-better’ enchantment I had learnt along the way. “Drink up, okay? I’d like you to survive for just one dance with me.”

His eyes re-emerged from his palm and he smiled softly at me.

“I’m sorry. The noise is a little loud for my sensitive ear.” He told me sourly, itching the bandage. “I’m just not used to it yet.” He took a sip from his drink, face softening at the obvious taste of health.

“I’ve noticed.” I leant over to take his hand and he held it there, closing his eyes once more. Kissing his palm, I swayed to the music while Veelas giggled and old women gaggled, taking in the smooth afternoon air.

An old lady sat across from me at the table, looking moodily at the women who continued to talk complete bunkum.

“You can sit here, Aunt Muriel.” Ron cooed from behind her, shrinking away into the crowed, giving me a very reassuring thumbs up. George sat up instantly, giving me a look of absolute terror, making my heart drop into my stomach.

“Are you a Veela too?” The old woman asked me snidely, leaning on her rickety old elbows. George huffed from beside me, probably making note to leave a box of spiders under his younger brother's bed.

“No, actually.” I returned awkwardly and she nodded.

“Of course not. Your eyes are too big. Like a bug's.” She continued. “And your wrists are too thin.”

“Uhh…” I looked at George for support, finding that his horrified face had not changed since I had last checked. “I guess so.”

“Your ears are lopsided, boy.” She continued on, looking at George. He snapped out of it and took my hand. “You’re too skinny. Typical Weasley boy.”

“How about that dance?” He dragged me up, letting me bid Aunt Muriel adieu before kidnapping me into the vacant yard of the Burrow.

“The dance floor is in there, you know?” I asked as he threw his arms around my waist, letting me wrap my own around his neck. His head rested on my shoulder, his body relaxing onto mine after a long, tiring day.

“It’s nice and quiet.” He muttered sleepily from my hair. “Dance with me out here, okay?”

I smiled into his vest, running my hands through his longing hair while we swayed in the pink sky, letting his breath soften in the nape of my neck. I knew that I could stay like that forever and never lose my happiness; because he and I fit together so perfectly it was almost uncanny. That day I realised I was definitely ready to marry and spend the rest of my life with George Weasley.