Chapter 1
Rose enjoyed all of two weeks at home with her parents and brother before they arrived at the Burrow for Victoire and Teddy's wedding.
She walked through the front door behind her father to find nearly the entire ground floor of the house in frantic motion. A large pot on the stove bubbled merrily, a levitating wooden spoon dipping every few seconds to stir; in the corner of the front room two pairs of knitting needles clacked in rhythm, while a needle so thin it was almost nothing more than a glint of light worked in and out of a piece of fabric stretched across an embroidery hoop.
Rose stepped into the front hall and nearly tripped over a broom sweeping itself down the floor. She felt Hugo stop abruptly behind her, his chest smacking into her back.
“Oh, there you are,” Grandma Molly cried, bustling around the corner carrying a large mixing bowl. “Come in, come in! Careful you don’t step on anything.”
They all bustled into the house, Hermione closing the front door firmly behind her.
“How lovely to see you all,” Grandma Molly said, looking rather frazzled as she pulled all of them in for hugs. “Things are a bit busy here, I’m afraid. Ron, did you bring those drinks I asked for?”
“Got them here.” Rose’s dad held up a large bag, filled to bursting with mead and firewhiskey and butterbeer.
“Good, good.” Grandma Molly reached out and took the bag from him, hefting it over her shoulder. “I told them we have more than enough to drink, but Bill insisted. I think Fleur said something, but you know—”
“Hugh, help your grandmother,” Ron said, nudging Hugo’s shoulder.
“Here, Grandma,” Hugo stepped forward and awkwardly lifted the bag from Grandma Molly’s shoulder. “I can carry that.”
“Oh, so helpful,” Grandma Molly cooed and patted Hugo’s cheek. “Take that into the kitchen, would you, and mind you put it on a high shelf. I don’t want anyone getting into it who’s not supposed to.”
Hugo nodded and traipsed into the kitchen, the bag rattling against his shoulder blades.
“Now, Rosie, darling,” Grandma Molly said to her. “We’ll have a rather full house, so I’m afraid all you young girls are going to be sleeping in Ginny’s room. I told your grandfather to duplicate the bed and enlarge them a touch so you aren’t too squished, but make sure you check and tell me if he forgot. You know how he can get sometimes.”
“I can do that,” Rose nodded. “Have the others arrived yet?”
“You’re the first,” Grandma Molly said. “But the rest should all be here soon. George said Angelina and the kids would be here by supper, and Ginny’s bringing Lily around tomorrow. I don’t quite know when Lucy and Molly will be getting in, and Percy hasn’t responded to my last owl—”
“I’m sure everyone will be here as soon as they can be,” Rose’s mum said. “Rose, why don’t you go up and put your things away and make sure the beds will fit all of you?”
“Alright.” Rose stretched to give her grandmother a kiss on the cheek and then bounded up the stairs. Two beds, magically enlarged to easily accommodate two teenage girls, sat in Aunt Ginny’s old room. Rose dropped her bag unceremoniously on the one closest to the door and then sank down on the mattress, her hands on her lap. She looked around the room, listened for the thuds and clacks and clangs emanating from the first floor, and smiled.
She was at the Burrow, and soon the rest of her cousins would be there as well. She was home.
After a full week of non-stop scrubbing and cooking and magically expanding nearly every space within the Weasley house, the wedding day arrived.
Rose stood in the corner bedroom with Lucy and Lily, attempting to smooth her hair with her wand. She stood in front of the large mirror propped against the door; this one was not enchanted like Carmela who sat in their dormitory at school, but was simply a dented, dusty mirror that Grandpa Arthur had found at a muggle rummage sale a few years before and carted home for some unknown reason. Rose found she didn’t mind the lack of enchanted comments and suggestions, and rather appreciated this mirror’s silence.
She swished her hips as she looked at her reflection, watching the light pretty light blue fabric of her dress dance around her knees. The dress, while not as formal or ornate as the ones she had worn for the two Victory Balls she had attended, was very pretty; Rose felt a slight thrill in her chest as she looked at herself, the silver beading twinkling in the light and the blue shade making her eyes sparkle.
Her mum had nearly refused to buy her a new dress for the wedding, saying Rose had far too many dresses already that she had never worn more than once, but two weeks worth of begging and carefully constructed arguments citing dozens of Witch Weekly articles had worn Hermione down.
Rose’s smile faded and her face scrunched in concentration as she held a section of her hair perpendicular to her head, her wand pointed towards her skull. She had spent the last quarter hour trying to replicate the smoothing charm Allie sometimes performed on her hair which, when successful, turned the wild and bushy curls into smooth, bouncing ringlets. So far she had only managed to shoot jets of cold air into her scalp.
“Here, let me help you,” said Lucy, coming to stand beside Rose and taking out her own wand. “It’s much easier to get the angle right when you aren’t trying to charm your own head.”
“Thanks,” Rose sighed in relief, dropping her arms to her side.
Lucy merely hummed in response, snatching a comb from the bedside table and beginning to section off Rose’s hair.
“Getting ready here certainly makes me miss Allie,” Rose mused as Lucy began clipping back sections of hair.
“She is brilliant at these charms,” Lucy nodded. “I don’t know how she manages to do them all on herself so well. I can do your hair and hers pretty well, but whenever I try to smooth my own I end up looking like a merperson.”
“Must be natural talent,” Rose shrugged.
“Will you do my hair after?” Lily chirped from her seat on the second bed. “I want those big curls that Dom does sometimes.”
“I don’t quite know if I can do those,” Lucy frowned. She set the comb down on the floor beside her, raised her wand, and began running it slowly down a piece of Rose’s hair.
Rose felt the familiar sensation of an ice cube sliding down her head. She shivered slightly, her eyes tracking Lucy’s movements in the mirror.
“I wish Dom could get ready with us,” Lily sighed, flopping onto her back. “She always helps me do my hair when I ask.”
“She’s a little busy being Maid of Honor,” Rose rolled her eyes.
“Well I don’t see why Molly at least couldn’t stay in here with us.”
“Dom asked for Molly to get ready with her especially.” Lucy shook her head, running a hand over a section of Rose’s hair before unclipping another. “They haven’t seen each other in nearly a year.”
“That’s mad to think about, isn’t it?” Rose asked, catching Lucy’s eye in the mirror. “Dom and Molly not seeing each other for a year? They used to always be together.”
“Yes, well,” Lucy turned her gaze back to Rose’s gaze, undoing another section of hair and pulling it taut as she traced her wand down the strands. “I suppose that’s how things go, isn’t it? Everyone leaves school and gets jobs and goes different places.” She dropped the newly smoothed section of Rose’s hair, running her hand down the newly silky curls.
Rose frowned, her chest constricting as she watched Lucy’s reflection move away from hers, leaning down over the bed to retrieve something. “I hope we never go a year without seeing each other.”
Lucy took a step back from Rose and waved her wand. Rose felt a gush of wind hit head. Her hair fluttered around her shoulders.
“We won’t go a whole year,” Lucy said firmly, turning back towards the bed and setting her wand down. “Unless one of us decides to do something mad like become a cursebreaker.”
“It would be so cool to be a cursebreaker,” Lily said dreamily, sitting up on her knees and tossing her hair. “Dom’s stories sound incredible. And can you imagine dating a real live prince?”
“I don’t much fancy getting chased by a mummy every day at work,” Lucy sniffed.
“But it would be so cool!” Lily exclaimed, bouncing over towards Lucy and nudging her in the shoulder. “At least admit that the flying carpets sound fun.”
Lucy rolled her eyes but cracked a small smile as she turned towards Lily. “Fine. The flying carpets sound incredible.”
“Do you really think Dom will end up marrying the prince?” Lily breathed. “We could be part of the royal family then.”
“Nah,” Rose said, shaking her head and joining her cousins on the magically enlarged mattress. “She said he’s fun to go out with but she couldn’t ever get engaged to him. She said his mum still picks out his clothes.”
“Ew.” Lily scrunched up her nose.
“Exactly,” Rose nodded.
“Girls!” Aunt Ginny’s voice rang out from the hallway. “Are you all ready? It’s nearly time for us to go outside.”
“Almost, Mum!” Lily cried, jumping up from the bed and peering at her reflection in the mirror. “I just need someone to do my hair.”
The bedroom door flew open and Ginny Potter strode inside. She wore a simple grey dress that fell to her knees, her red hair pinned back in a neat knot at the nape of her neck.
“What do you need done to your hair?” Ginny asked, looking over her daughter. “You look lovely.”
“I want those big curls Dom does sometimes,” Lily said. She wound a hand through her hair and pushed it out. “I want them out to here .”
Ginny pursed her lips and seemed to be holding back a smile. “We don’t have time for curls, darling. Come on, nearly everyone else is outside already.”
“Fine.” Lily dropped her hair and stuck out her lip. “Is Hugo ready?”
“I think I saw Hugo outside with Roxie,” Aunt Ginny nodded.
“Oh, great, he can save me a seat!” Lily scampered out of the room, straight hair flying behind her.
Aunt Ginny sighed and turned her gaze to Rose and Lucy. “I trust the two of you are ready?”
The girls nodded.
“Good. Make sure you’re downstairs in a few minutes. Fleur is a little bit…frazzled right now and might not be too kind if you’re late.”
“Got it.” Rose nodded fervently. “We’ll be down in just a moment.”
Ginny nodded and turned to leave. “You both look lovely, by the way,” she said over her shoulder, giving them a bright smile.
“Thanks, Aunt Ginny,” Rose and Lucy chorused as the door clicked closed.
“Do we really need anything?” Rose asked, her head swiveling around the bedroom as she sat down to pull on her shoes.
“I don’t think so,” Lucy said, running a hand over the skirt of her green dress. “Oh, Rose, those shoes are so pretty!”
Rose beamed down at the shoes on her feet. They were the most grown up pair she owned, the heels high enough that her mother had frowned as soon as Rose had shown them to her. They were a classic style and a pretty shimmery silver color; best of all, the heels made her a full three inches taller.
“Thanks,” she said proudly. She stood up from the bed, wobbling slightly until she regained her balance. “Make sure you say that when my mum’s around, will you? She almost didn’t let me get them.”
They walked out of the bedroom and traipsed down the stairs. Out the front door Rose could see the large marquee that her dad and uncles had set up two days before. Dozens of people already meandered around the yard, dressed in frocks and suits and robes of all colors.
Rose spotted Albus by the marquee entrance with James and Fred. Treading carefully so as not to let her heels sink into the dewy grass, she nudged Lucy’s shoulder and moved towards them.
“Hey,” Albus waved when the girls joined them. “You guys look nice.”
“Thanks,” Rose smiled, looking over Albus’s neatly buttoned shirt and wild hair. “So do you. Though I’m surprised your mum didn’t make you do something with your hair.”
Albus shrugged and ran a hand over the uncooperative strands, his face flushing slightly. “She said there’s no point trying to do anything with it and she didn’t want to bother.”
“Let’s just hope Gran doesn’t see,” Fred said, raising an eyebrow. “She might have a fit.”
“Forget Gran,” James shook his head. “Let’s hope Aunt Fleur doesn’t see.”
“Where is Aunt Fleur?” Lucy asked, her head swiveling around to survey the yard. “Is she out here yet?”
“No,” Fred shook his head. “I heard my mum say that Fleur wants to make sure she has a grande entrée.”
Rose snorted. “Of course.”
“James! Albus!” Aunt Ginny’s voice carried over the yard, and Rose looked up to see her aunt striding towards them. “There you two are! Oh, girls, you’re here as well. Good, good.” Ginny ran a hand over her hair, her brow crinkling. “I thought you were still in the house.”
“We do listen to you sometimes, Mum,” James grinned.
Ginny rolled her eyes. “And it only took eighteen years. Lucky me.”
“Does Gran need help with something?” Fred asked, turning to look back towards the house.
“No,” Aunt Ginny shook her head. “But I will let your mother know you’re out here. She was worried. No, I was looking for you to tell you all you’d best find your seats. Guests are arriving, and I don’t want any of you to accidentally get in Fleur or Vic’s way as they come down.”
James laughed. “What’s the worst they’d do to us?”
Aunt Ginny raised an eyebrow. “Do you really want to find out?”
The smile slipped from James’s face as he thought about it, and he shook his head.
“Right. Go on in and find some seats,” Ginny turned to look at them all. “Mind you don’t take any of the ones reserved for the Delacours. And if you see any of your cousins bring them with you.”
They all nodded and filed into the marquee. Rose’s eyes widened as she took in the space. Rows of wooden chairs lined the aisle and faced a truly breathtaking archway adorned with hundreds of peonies. The flower petals burst outward in every hue imaginable, not a limp leaf or drooping stem in sight. Fairy lights twinkled overhead beside the silver drapings, casting a warm glow over the marquee.
“Wow,” she breathed to Lucy as they filed into a row near the front, waving to a nearby Hugo and Lily as they did so. “This is beautiful.”
“I know,” Lucy whispered, her brown eyes wide as she looked up towards the lights. “Vic is going to love it.”
Family members and guests made their way into the marquee, quickly filling the available seats. Hugo and Lily sat in the row behind Rose, quickly joined by Roxanne. Rose saw her mum and dad walk in with Aunt Ginny and slide into a row towards the back, where they were soon joined by the Longbottoms.
It seemed nearly every person who had ever come into contact with the Weasley family had been invited. The Scamanders wandered in soon after Rose’s parents, Aunt Luna dressed in striking yellow robes. Aunt Minnie arrived alongside Hagrid and Professors Flitwick and Sprout, all nodding greetings to their past and current students. And then there were the countless Weasley relatives, whose names Rose couldn’t remember but whose red hair identified them anyways.
When the marquee was nearly full Rose saw Molly slip inside and take the seat beside Roxanne, her dark hair pinned back and a cherry red dress falling softly against her frame.
When every seat was occupied Professor Flitwick took his place in front of the arch. Before Rose could whisper to Lucy about the fact their professor was the one performing their cousin’s wedding ceremony, an unseen piano struck a soft, echoing chord. The chatter around Rose died, and she joined all the other guests in turning to face the aisle.
Teddy Lupin stood at the marquee entrance, his grandmother’s hand on his arm. His hair was a conservative brown for the occasion, and his eyes gleamed in the light as he beamed. The music picked up, the sweeping notes filling every corner of the space, as Teddy escorted Andromeda down the aisle. When they reached the front he turned, wrapped the crying woman in a tight hug. Rose felt tears prick her eyes as Teddy patted his grandmother on the arm, kissing her cheek as he released her and took his place in front of the archway.
Aunt Fleur came next, escorted by Louis for her grand entrance.
It was a very successful grand entrance, or at least Rose thought so. Aunt Fleur glowed in a splendid set of golden robes, her smile only quivering a little bit as she stepped down the aisle alongside her son.
Louis, who was now taller than his mother, kept a neutral expression on his face, all English stoicism beside his mother’s emotionality. The pair of them seemed to float to the front of the room, where Louis helped his mother into a seat in the front row.
Next came Dominique, escorted by one of Teddy’s friends that Rose didn’t know well. Dominique looked beautiful, her robes golden like her mother’s, her blonde hair twisted into an elaborate knot. She beamed as she glided past the rows of seats, lithe and graceful.
The music paused, and then a low chord echoed around the room. The people around them rose to their feet, and Rose followed, straining to see over Albus’s head.
There was a collective intake of breath as Victoire appeared at the entrance of the tent, one hand wrapped around her father’s arm and the other holding a bouquet of flowers. Rose twisted to get a good look around Albus’s shoulder, and heard herself gasp.
Victoire looked beautiful.
No, beautiful wasn’t the right way to describe it. Victoire looked ethereal. Otherworldly. Like a beam of magical light hitting earth.
The smooth satin of her skirt pooled around her legs and drifted behind her as she walked, the train levitated a few centimeters above the ground so it wouldn’t drag. The gown’s bodice hugged her closely, the boning and lace carefully brought together in a symphony of textiles. The lace continued up to Victoire’s collarbone and then down along her arms, the delicate images dancing and twirling as she moved. Her veil, which trailed along the length of her train, matched the lace of her sleeves and was held in place by an exquisite silver tiara.
As Vic walked past Rose recognized some of the images carefully spun in the lace. She could make out an eagle soaring over a castle, two figures dancing together in front of a structure that looked like the Burrow.
After what seemed an eternity, Vic and Uncle Bill arrived in front of Teddy and Professor Flitwick. Victoire turned, her train and veil moving of their own accord along with her, and kissed her father on the cheek. When Uncle Bill was seated beside Aunt Fleur, who was now crying rather noisily, Victoire turned to face Teddy, her face split into a smile that put the fairy lights to shame.
Rose sat back, letting herself fall into the moment that she knew was fleeting but felt both infinite and important; as Uncle Bill settled into his seat and Professor Flitwick adjusted the sheaf of parchment floating beside him, Teddy reached out and took Vic’s hand in his. Both bride and groom stood still for a moment, their eyes locking and holding onto one another as though there were nobody else in the room. And they both smiled in such a way that Rose thought she could feel their joy from across the room.
If someone told her they didn’t know what love was, Rose would show them this exact moment.
When the ceremony ended and Flitwick pronounced Teddy and Victoire husband and wife, Rose joined the rest of the guests in giving a wild cheer as the two shared a kiss, and then another, and waltzed down the aisle hand in hand.
She then joined her cousins in making her way out of the overcrowded marquee.
“Thank Merlin,” James sighed when they finally pushed past the throng and found themselves in open air. He leaned an elbow against one of the standing tables and unbuttoned the cuff of his shirts.
“When did Gran say the hors d'oeuvres would be out?” Fred asked, looking around the lawn.
“Quarter after,’ Albus replied, leaning next to his brother and undoing the top button of his shirt. “Though I hope they start a bit earlier. I was helping Grandma Molly with some of the baking and missed lunch. I’m starved.”
“They should be coming soon,” James said. “That ceremony took long enough. Y’know, I like Flitwick, I do, but he rather went on in there.”
“It was barely thirty minutes,” Rose snorted.
“Twenty too many,” James shook his head as he pushed his sleeves up to his elbows. “Honestly, I don’t know why they can’t just say the ‘I do’ part and be done with it.”
“That wouldn’t be a wedding, then,” Lucy rolled her eyes and folded her arms on the table. “If they did that there would be no point in all of us being here to see it.”
“Yeah,” Rose nodded in agreement. “If they did that they may as well just go into the Ministry and have someone marry them there.”
James shrugged. “I’m just saying. Some of that stuff was dead boring.”
Lucy sniffed. “I think it’s romantic.”
“I’m sure you do, Luce.” James laughed and ruffled her hair, laughing harder as Lucy scowled and swatted his hand away.
The canapes arrived soon after, the floating silver trays bearing all sorts of bite-sized dishes that made Rose’s mouth water. She ate as many as she could, chatting with Lucy and then Lily over the ceremony decor and Vic’s dress. Hugo and Roxanne joined them around the standing table and the cousins enjoyed a mad hour together, sipping butterbeers dropped off by Aunt Angelina and laughing as James and Fred tried to bewitch one of the serving trays to follow them around.
When a magically-magnified voice told everyone it was time to take their seats Rose wandered into the marquee, which had been rearranged to accommodate a number of round dinner tables and a large dance floor. She found her seat with her family and the Potters, smiled broadly when her mother admitted the dress and shoes looked wonderful, and smiled even brighter when she allowed Rose to have a glass of champagne for Uncle Bill’s toast.
Dinner passed quickly and the music was playing and her cousins were pulling her onto the dance floor. Rose laughed as she stood next to Albus, his arms and legs flailing gracelessly around him as a Golden Snitches song played.
“Come on!” Albus cried, grabbing one of Rose’s hands and waving it over her head. “It’s not fun if we’re not all dancing, Rose.”
“Fine, fine,” she laughed, moving her own limbs in a fashion that was, if not graceful, at least less hazardous than Albus.
They danced without a care. Rose, for the first time, found herself intensely grateful for her family’s apparently hereditary lack of rhythm, as it meant nearly everyone around her looked as silly as she did. Fred and Lily were performing some variation of a salsa, Uncle George was attempting a headstand, and James was insisting on teaching Hugo and Simon Longbottom how to breakdance.
Rose loved it.
As the night went on the music slowed, and Rose rotated through what felt like every male relative she had as a dance partner. She and James laughed through an attempted waltz, her dad steered her around the floor to a French ballad while trying and failing to count out the beats for her, and Grandpa Arthur joined her for what sounded like an Irish drinking song.
After Grandpa Arthur released her and planted a quick kiss on her cheek Rose ambled back to the table, her feet stinging. She dropped into an empty chair and quickly tugged the high heels off her feet, sighing in relief as she wiggled her toes.
“I don’t know how you girls wear those things.”
She looked up to find Fred standing in front of her, a half-full glass of amber liquid in his hand.
Rose shook her head and rolled her eyes. “They look so nice, but they feel like murder after dancing.”
Fred laughed and lowered himself into the seat beside her. “Probably doesn’t help that you always end up dancing with Al.”
Rose shrugged, a smile breaking through. “Someone has to.”
Fred leaned back in his seat and took a sip of his drink.
Rose raised an eyebrow and glanced at the tumbler.
“Mead,” Fred said, holding the glass out to her. “Want some?”
Rose took the proffered glass and took a sip of the surprisingly sweet, rich liquid. “Mmm,” she nodded, handing the glass back to Fred. “That’s so much better than firewhiskey.”
“Perks of being of age,” Fred snorted. He took another slow drink, eyes wandering over the party. “I’m gonna miss this place.”
“What do you mean?” Rose sat up straighter and frowned at him.
“Ah,” Fred grimaced and set his tumbler down on the table. He ran a hand through his hair and turned towards Rose, a small, sad smile on his face. “I—er—have some news.”
Rose raised her eyebrows. “Okay.”
“I’m going to Romania. To work with Uncle Charlie.”
“Fred,” Rose beamed, leaning forward and throwing her arms around his neck, squeezing tight. “That’s wonderful! Oh, you’re going to be brilliant!”
“Thanks, Rose.” Fred gave a tight smile as she released him. “I leave next week.”
Rose blinked, her arms falling to her sides as Fred retrieved his drink.
“Next week?” she asked, eyebrows knitting together.
“Yeah.” Fred nodded and took a sip of mead, his eyes falling to his knees.
“But that—” Rose frowned and trailed off. It was too fast, she wanted to yell. This was happening too fast. She had known Fred wanted to leave the country to work with animals, but he wasn’t supposed to go so soon. They were supposed to have an entire final summer together. There were supposed to be quidditch games in the yard and trips to Diagon Alley and afternoons spent in the Burrow kitchen eating leftover sweets and making jokes.
“That’s so soon,” Rose said at last, her throat tight.
“They just found out they’re bringing in a new Swedish Short snout,” Fred said. “They want me there to help with its training.”
Rose nodded slowly, trying to keep the swirling sadness at bay. “That will be wonderful.”
Fred grinned. “It really will be. Just think, Rosie, in two weeks I’ll be helping take care of real, live dragons. It’ll be incredible.”
She nodded again, her tongue feeling thick and useless in her mouth.
“Come on,” Fred murmured, giving a short laugh as he reached up and tugged the end of her hair like he and James used to do when they were younger. “It won’t be that bad.”
“No.” Rose swallowed heavily and brought a hand up to wipe at her eyes. “It’s just—what if—we never see Uncle Charlie—”
“Hey now,” Fred shook his head and squeezed Rose’s shoulder, his dark eyes crinkling as he smiled. “I’ll be back for Christmas, don’t worry. You lot aren’t getting rid of me that easily.”
Rose returned the smile, feeling a tear leak out of her eye and drip down her face. She caught it with the pad of her finger and wiped it away. “Promise?”
“Of course,” Fed nodded. “How could I stay away from Grandma’s cooking? I’d be mad to give that up.”
Rose laughed and reached forward to take the tumbler from Fred’s hand. She took a sip and let the drink’s warmth spread slowly over her tongue and down past her chest, its heavy and sweet flavor coating her nerves like a balm.
“And anyways,” Fred continued, accepting the glass as Rose handed it back to him, “I couldn’t leave James and Roxie alone for that long. Merlin knows what Roxie will do to my room while I’m gone.”
He threw back the final dregs of the mead and set the empty tumbler down on the table. “Come on,” he said, getting to his feet and holding out his hand. “There’s no time to be sad about it tonight. It’s a wedding and one of the last nights I have to spend with the whole family. Come have a dance and help me convince James to slow dance with a gnome.”
A small bubble of laughter ascended in Rose’s chest before bursting past her lips, and she shook her head as she stood. “Okay,” she said, “but only if someone finds a camera. Lily will never forgive us if we don’t get a picture.”
The rest of the evening passed in a blur of warm light and steady music. When the sun had long since fallen past the horizon and even the most adamant dancers had wandered off the dance floor, Rose found herself at one of the round dinner tables rubbing her sore feet. She settled into her seat, feeling her hair fan out around her shoulders, and smiled softly as she took in the scene around her.
Aunt Minnie and Grandma Molly stood in the corner of the marquee, both clutching glasses of elf-made wine, their faces pensive as they reminisced about their childhoods and the years before the war. Her parents sat a few tables away with a small crowd of their school friends, listening with soft smiles as a rather intoxicated Uncle Harry loudly told the story of the day Teddy’s father came by the safe house to tell them about his son.
“A picture of a baby with turquoise hair,” Uncle Harry rumbled, nodding furiously as he wiped at his eyes. “Turquoise hair! I had never seen anything like it. And then Remus asked me to be godfather and I just—” he trailed off, his eyes drifting to Teddy and Vic, who sat at the edge of the group, bright smiles still alighting their faces. “And look at him now,” Uncle Harry said thickly. “All grown up…married to a wonderful girl. Your parents would be so happy, Ted.”
Teddy stood from his seat and quickly embraced Uncle Harry, his face softening into an expression Rose couldn’t quite discern.
“It’s so beautiful here, isn’t it?”
Rose turned to see Lucy dropping into the seat beside her, and slowly rearranged her limbs to face her cousin.
“Yeah,” Rose replied, her eyes once again wandering the marquee. “It’s gorgeous.”
“It looks like it could be right out of one of your books,” Lucy breathed, her eyes still turned upwards towards the fairy lights as she removed her shoes and began to rub circles along the balls of her feet. “Like one of those balls they always have in the Jane Austen stories.”
“Those are my favorite scenes,” Rose smiled. She leaned forward and set her elbow on the table before planting her chin in her palm. “When the girls are all wearing pretty dresses and the boys ask them to dance. It’s so romantic. I’d love to see one of those old halls all decorated like this.”
“Oh, that would be divine.”
“Maybe I can have my wedding at one of those halls,” Rose mused, her mind conjuring images of herself draped in a satin and lace concoction like Vic’s, floating down the aisle of a grand house like Pemberley, an unknown man waiting to whisk her off to the dance floor. She paused as she tried to think of who would be the groom in this fantasy. “If I ever get married, that is.”
“I hope Nathan and I can get married here at the Burrow, just like this,” Lucy hummed.
“What?” Rose twisted to look at her cousin, eyebrows shooting up.
“You don’t think we should have it here?” Lucy asked, looking rather hurt.
“No, no,” Rose shook her head quickly, catching her lip in her teeth. “It’s not that, it’s just—” she trailed off, looking for the words to explain why the idea of Lucy and Nathan having a wedding just like this one had felt like a bludger to the chest.
It wasn’t the idea of Lucy getting married at the Burrow that seemed so strange, it was the thought of Lucy and Nathan getting married. It seemed too concrete, too firmly within the realm of possibility. It meant they were getting to an age where such thoughts weren’t simply fanciful daydreams, but real decisions waiting to be made. It meant at some undisclosed moment they had all slipped past an unmarked post that meant they were nearer to being full-formed adults than they were to being silly children.
Rose wasn’t sure she quite wanted to be an adult just yet, nor that she wanted her friends to be adults either.
It meant that soon they all would be out of school, leaving the castle for different parts of the country or perhaps even leaving for a different country altogether like Fred. It meant that soon their little band of friends would be broken up and scattered to the wind.
“Isn’t it early to be thinking about a wedding like that?” Rose said at last, running a hand through her hair.
Beside her, Lucy shrugged. “Maybe,” she said, twisting a piece of hair around her finger. “But maybe not. Vic is only six years older than us, and she and Teddy have been engaged for years now. And I—” she glanced over her shoulder at Rose, her cheeks coloring in the dim light, “I can’t imagine it being anyone other than him.”
Rose felt her heart swell in her chest, and she leaned to the side to rest the side of her head against Lucy’s.
“I can’t imagine it being anyone else for you, either,” she murmured. She lifted an arm and wrapped it around Lucy’s shoulder, wanting to feel the warmth of physical closeness. Lucy obliged, snaking her own arm around Rose’s back and sinking into the embrace.
As Rose sat there, under the marquee in front of her grandparents’ house, her family all chatting and drinking and laughing merrily, she felt the urge to wrap her arms around this moment in time and hold it as tightly as she could. She flexed her fingers and felt immensely glad she could squeeze Lucy, this exact version of Lucy, and wished she could hold other pieces of the evening as easily.
She wanted to hold Albus dancing with Lily and Grandma Molly, wanted to hold the Burrow and all of its topsy-turvy rooms; she wanted to feel the weight of Uncle Harry and Teddy’s embrace and squeeze the warm, light feeling which bloomed in her chest whenever she was surrounded by her family.
Soon, far sooner than she wanted, she knew it would be Lucy’s wedding she sat at, or Albus’s, or James’s, or Fred’s. She knew that she and her friends only had two years of school left, two years before they would all have to leave and make their own way and find their own little corners of the world.
So she wanted to wrap every little bit of this moment, before that all came to pass, in her arms and hold it so tight it couldn't move. She wanted to remember every detail, every flicker of the lights and guzz of the lightning bugs and smell of mead and Fred’s grin as they danced with their cousins.
She wanted to reconstruct it within a glass bottle the way some people built model ships, so she could put it on a mantle and look at it every night before she went to bed. She wanted to write all of it down with painstaking detail and bind the pages into a book she could read whenever she wanted to feel at home again.
Rose felt Lucy’s hand press onto her back, her fingers warm and gentle, and smiled. She was sixteen years old, soon to begin her sixth year at Hogwarts, and already she felt that life had reached a pinnacle. As Rose squeezed her cousin and looked around the marquee at all the people she loved best in the world, the warm feeling in her chest expanded.
If this were the best evening of her life she would consider it worthwhile.
But what did she know. The best could still be yet to come.