Look After You

I never really pictured myself in the white dress. I'm not sure I'd ever thought far enough ahead to do so. I wasn't your typical little girl, dreaming about her wedding day and the way her dress would look. No, I was more of the 'I-wonder-what-Mum-is-making-for-breakfast-tomorrow' sort. Not nearly as exciting, but infinitely more practical.

In much the same fashion as Bill and Fleur, George and I were getting married in a grand tent in the Burrow's back yard. I could see it from where I stood in the middle of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's bedroom if I bent nearly double. This proved to be a great annoyance to Mrs. Weasley and Fleur, who were busy perfecting every tiny detail of my ensemble. I finally sighed and gave up, opting to stand perfectly still rather than get a sharp swat from Fleur (as she was wont to do).

I'd wanted a fairly simple ceremony which, by extension, included a fairly simple dress. Unfortunately, my point was moot. I couldn’t help but feel slightly stung by the way everyone simply brushed off my desire for 'Just a plain ceremony with a sit-down meal and some cake'. Honestly, who was the goddamn bride, again? Yes, I thought so.

Even George wouldn’t let me have my way.

"Honestly, Lacey. With any luck, you only get married once." He'd grinned down at me while his mother beamed her appreciation at him.

Traitor.

My dress was gorgeous, I would allow that much. Fleur had actually been the one to discover it in a Muggle bridal shop somewhere in Paris. She'd apparated directly into the flat above the joke shop and seized my hand, speaking in very fast, very animated French. George was not amused.

"Honestly, woman. You can't just pop in any time you like! What if we were on the job?" He waggled his eyebrows at me and Fleur made a disgusted noise in the back of her throat.

"I do not weesh to know zee details of your reelationsheeps, George," She pronounced his name with a very French soft 'G' the way he hated, then continued, "But your wedding eez een a few months and – alors – Lacey does not have anyzing to wear! I have found zee perfect dress for 'er!"

George rolled his eyes and she tugged on my hand eagerly. I was a bit uncomfortable – Fleur and I were quite far from friends – and I was fairly sure that anything she deemed perfect would be quite different from anything I deemed so. Even so, I cast an apologetic look at George and Fleur disapparated, dragging me through the dark with her.

We'd arrived at the bridal shop where Mrs. Weasley was already waiting and, truth be told, the dress was flawless.

Standing in the Burrow, viewing only what I could see of myself from looking down (I wasn't going to be allowed a mirror until I was aisle-ready), I remembered the strange sweaty-palmed, increased-heart-rate, jaw-on-the-floor reaction I'd had to the elegant gown of ivory lace. It wasn't quite a 'fairytale' dress, but it did seem to suit me. Fleur had been spot on, in truth.

Both she and Mrs. Weasley did, in fact, look quite satisfied as they stepped away and looked me up and down. The older stepped forward and twisted one of my loose ringlets around her finger, then let it fall over my shoulder with the multitudes of others.

"Lacey, dear, I'm so glad you didn’t cut your hair too short. It looks so lovely long." She said wistfully. Fleur nodded her agreement.

After the months I'd spent with (it was hard to even think the name) Fred and George and Lee Jordan in a tiny cabin in Scotland, my tumultuous lengths of loosely-curled, carrot-orange hair had grown past my tailbone. I'd always liked it long, though when I finally got around to cutting it again after the whole Cabin ordeal, I'd flirted with the idea of hacking it up to my shoulders. The idea had been shot down by nearly anyone I mentioned it to, so I settled for my more customary length of mid-spine.

It was now, though, pushed forward over my shoulders with the right side swept up and pinned above my ear with a brooch lent to me by Madame Delacoeur. Delicate ivory-colored pearl drops dangled from my ears and encircled my throat. The engagement ring that George had given me (a month-and-a-half after our engagement, might I add) glittered plainly on my finger – the only thing that remained true to my desire of matrimonial simplicity. It was just a square-cut stone on a simple, white gold band. When he'd presented it to me, I'd nearly had a conniption realizing how well he knew me.

"You do look quite lovely," Fleur murmured, bringing me back to the present and walking in a circle around me. "Zee dress eez perfect, of course."

"It is," I agreed. "It's wonderful. Thank you both so much for all of this. Everything, really." I'd promised myself not to become overly emotional on my wedding day, but the sight of the two of them standing there, beaming at me, brought a rather large knot to my throat. Mrs. Weasley reached out to embrace me gingerly, careful not to muss my hair or step on the hem of my dress.

"Not at all, love." She murmured, and I could hear the emotion in her voice, "I should be thanking you. You've made George so happy, regardless of the circumstances…" Her eyes spilled over, and she didn’t have to mention what I knew she was thinking. The circumstances of Fred's death.

"I just wish your mother could be here to see you." She added with a disapproving sniff.

My parents had written – regretfully, they said – that they would not be able to attend my wedding because they'd already scheduled their holiday in the French Riviera for this week and didn't I know how badly they'd been wanting to go? They sent me a china set to make up for their absence.

I hadn’t written back. The china was ugly, anyway.

"Mum," I heard Ginny say from somewhere down the hall. Her voice grew louder as she came closer to the room, "We're about ready for Lacey to – ooh!" She stood in the doorway, her eyes wide and an awed smile on her lips. Hermione was just behind her, wearing the same expression.

They were to be my bridesmaids, actually. The two of them along with Fleur and Isabelle (Fleur's little sister whom I didn't know very well. I needed another bridesmaid because George had four groomsmen).

"Lacey," Ginny said breathlessly, stepping into the room with something that oddly resembled reverence, "You look…" She shook her head slightly, obviously at a loss for words.

"Absolutely lovely." Hermione finally sputtered, her hands clasped in front of her mouth.

"Thank you." I said, blushing. "Just wait. It'll be one of you two next." I winked at them and they both tittered nervously.

"Hopefully not for a while, yet." Mrs. Weasley amended, raising her eyebrows at Ginny.

"Well," Fleur said briskly, "Eet eez almost time. We do not want zee ceremony to start late! Ce serait deplaisant."

Ginny rolled her eyes, though I had no idea what Fleur had just said. Everyone began trooping out of the room, but I stopped them by saying matter-of-factly, "I haven't even seen myself, yet."

Mrs. Weasley threw her hands up into the air in astounded realization, then took hold of my hand and tugged me toward the door. She pushed the heavy thing closed, revealing a mirror mounted to the back. I stood for a moment, staring silently.

"Yes," I finally said, nodding, "It's perfect. The whole thing, of course it is. Thank you." I leaned down to kiss my soon-to-be mother-in-law's cheek, then said briskly, "Now, let's go get married."

I followed them out of the house, my pulse rate reaching uncomfortable speeds. The graceful, turreted, white muslin tent erected in the back yard was absolutely magnificent and full to bursting. I half wondered if our entire year of Hogwarts classmates were in attendance, but brushed the thought aside when Mr. Weasley stepped forward, his arm out for me to take. He smiled down at me, the skin around his eyes creasing behind his glasses.

"Are you ready, then?" He asked, and we took our place at the end of the quickly forming procession.

Isabelle handed me my bouquet of ivory and champagne roses (also designed by Fleur) with a shy smile, then hurried away to take Percy's arm. Ron turned around from his place beside Hermione and offered me a wide grin and an approving nod. I smiled back.

"Yes." I replied simply. Mr. Weasley patted my hand and threw his shoulders back, looking quite dashing in his coattails.

A soft, melodic, wizarding wedding march struck up, and I marveled at how lovely everyone looked in the pale glow of sunset. The groomsmen (Ron, Bill, Charlie, and Percy) all wore matching tuxedoes and coattails with rich gold and purple striped vests and ties (George's choice, though I didn’t argue. It made for a very nice effect, overall).

My bridesmaids looked positively wonderful in their tea-length dresses of purple satin with gold sashes, matching their escorts perfectly. They strolled slowly down a length of rich, purple carpet. All heads followed them as they went and, as I drew further to the top of the aisle, I could see just how many people sat under the tent. Hundreds, to be frank, and I wasn’t sure how I felt to be seconds away from standing in front of all of them.

I swallowed my apprehensions, though, because the march had changed tune and Mr. Weasley tightened his hold on my arm affectionately. We stepped forward into the tent, passing slowly between the center-most rows of chairs. Everyone had stood, and I saw Lee Jordan and Harry Potter, silently cheering three-quarters of the way to the altar. I batted my eyelashes at them, then switched my focus to George.

He stood there, grinning, with his hands clasped in front of him. He matched his groomsmen with his coattails and vest of purple and gold, but it looked different on him. Better suited, maybe, because he'd probably chosen the ensemble with himself in mind. Not that it mattered. I couldn’t breathe for love of him, then. The sensation nearly knocked me off my feet, but I took the last few steps with outward grace and came to rest at the altar without having stumbled at all.

I heard Auntie Muriel say, "Her lips are too big, but she cleaned up decently. Somebody comb George's hair, his ears look lopsided."

George and I chuckled, and Mr. Weasley handed me over to his son with a glare at Muriel and a joyous glance at the two of us. Hermione took my flowers, and the ceremony began.

I couldn’t really concentrate on anything but the vows, though those are a bit fuzzy, too. My eyes were drawn to the moving picture of Fred, positioned on a gleaming gold stand just over George's shoulder. He was grinning, standing with his arms crossed and turning his head this way and that, like he'd been smiling at a group of people, just out of reach of the camera's lens. At the last second, just before the photograph began its loop of animation again, he stared straight ahead, directly into my eyes, and winked. I gasped.

I knew, of course, that it had only been the photograph. I knew it, but I would have given anything not to believe it. It made my eyes brim with tears, though, because I knew that, had he actually been standing there, he would’ve been grinning and winking at me from over George's shoulder the exact same way.

George squeezed my hands gently and I glanced up into his face. His eyes were glistening, too, and he smiled slightly before mouthing, "My best man."

I nodded infinitesimally and smiled back, just as Ron stepped forward with our rings. We placed them on each others fingers and the little wizard conducting the ceremony raised his wand, showering us with gold stars and pronouncing us bonded for life. George kissed me, his hands splayed on my back and before I knew it, there were people everywhere. We were absolutely surrounded, and I could barely breathe for all the hugs.

There were glasses of champagne and toasts. Everyone stood in a large circle around the dance floor that had replaced the rows of chairs, and each of George's brothers stepped forward to say a few words. Ron went last, as the technical-best-man-because-Fred-couldn't-be-here-to-take-the-position.

He pointed his wand at his throat, then said, "Well. I didn’t write anything down, really, but I know what I want to say. It's not much so, sorry, if you were expecting more." There was a collective smattering of light laughter from all the guests, and I inclined my head at him with a smile and a roll of my eyes.

"Well, George," He said, looking at his brother, "I'm really glad you've found someone to make you happy. I don’t think I've ever seen you smile so much. You deserve it all, mate.

"And Lacey," He turned his head toward me, "I told you so. You've always been like a seventh sibling, and I'm glad you've made it official. I'm not going to say 'welcome to the family', but I will say 'it's about time'."

There were rounds of laughter and clapping and the dancing began. I was whirled around by so many different people. I'm fairly sure I danced with Harry – who didn’t say much – then Ron followed by Lee Jordan. Mr. Weasley, Bill, Charlie, Percy, and various other Weasley relatives. By the end of the night, I found myself back with George. We were both horrible dancers, so we did little more than sway under the light of hundreds of luminous pixies.

He took one of my hands in his and placed his other on my waist. I placed my one remaining on the back of his neck and tried to fight back a yawn.

"Where have you bloody been all night, you idiot?" He asked with a smile.

"Dancing with your friends and relatives, you prat." I replied, "It looks like you're already halfway to that dominating race of gingers you mentioned back in sixth year. I've never seen so many in my life. Where have you been?"

"About the same as you, just with my own female friends and relatives." He frowned slightly, "Does it upset you that your family isn’t here?"

I thought for a moment, my mind whirring back over a long catalogue of family encounters. I thought of aunts, nit-picking my looks and the American blood I'd inherited from my mother. I thought of grandparents, too nonplussed by my existence to even send a birthday card now and again. I thought of my parents, themselves, too concerned with their holiday in the French Riviera to attend their own daughter's wedding. Then I shook my head.

"Not terribly, no." I glanced around, spotting Ginny dancing with Harry, Fleur with Bill, Hermione with Ron. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley looked very much enamored with each other as they strolled along the outer edge of the dance floor. I caught sight of the photograph of Fred, again. A warmth settled into my stomach, nicely melting any left-over cold or bitterness that had lain there over the past few months, a result of Fred's death and all the destruction I'd seen. I greatly regretted not seeing him dancing with some pretty girl, not seeing Remus and Tonks holding their little Teddy under the fairy lights, not seeing Cedric dazzling the young women in attendance. It made my heart ache, but that warmth was still there, comforting and reassuring. George squeezed my waist.

"No, not at all, actually." I said surely, looking up into his face again. "None of my family could understand any of this. They don't know me like everyone here does. Plus, they choose horrible china patterns."

George laughed heartily, his head thrown back and his teeth glinting faintly. He pulled me closer, bringing my other hand to the back of his neck and placing both of his tighter around my waist. He inhaled deeply, still smiling.

"July fourteenth," He murmured, looking around at our wedding party, then pressing his lips to my forehead. "Successful, don't you think? A day to remember?"

It was.