Through His Mother's Eyes

Chapter Ten - One Hand, One Heart

Ginny hadn't climbed Stoatshead Hill in years - she had been thirteen-years-old and on her way to the Quidditch World Cup the last time - and never in her life had she been silly enough to wear high-heeled shoes while climbing it. It was difficult enough under the best of circumstances.

"Tell me...again," Ginny said, her voice feeble from wheezing, "why we...couldn't have...Apparated to the summit?"

"Because--" said Hermione, who was panting and gasping twice as hard as Ginny was. "Because--" She paused and put her hands on her knees for a moment, then held up a hand to let Ginny and Luna know she was only pausing. Clearly, she was desperate to explain why they couldn't have Apparated to the top of the hill, but it was nearly impossible for her to make intelligible sounds through all of the huffing and puffing. Her spirit was willing, but her lungs were evidently quite weak.

"Because," Luna went on for her, "the bride and her attendants can't just appear out of the clear blue...we have to process."

Ginny's eyes widened. Oh, and what a procession it will be, too! she thought. All three of them were damp with perspiration, and Hermione looked like she could do with a mediwizard. Ginny felt her own heart pounding inside her chest and considered whether or not she'd be seeking a Healer's counsel by the end of the ceremony herself.

Miracle of all miracles, the trio of once pristine-looking ladies made it to a spot near the peak. They all paused to catch their respective breaths, then Luna whipped out her wand and bade Ginny and Hermione to do the same. She whispered, "Wouldn't want all of your hard work to go to waste, would you?" She murmured an incantation and patted the top of her head gently with her wand tip, allowing the Refreshing Charm to do its thing. All signs of perspiration and exhaustion promptly faded, leaving Luna as she had been when she'd appeared at the bottom of the hill, before the precarious climb.

Ginny and Hermione repeated the charm on themselves, and Hermione smiled as hers took effect.

"Thank Merlin for small favors...I could kiss the wizard who came up with that one!" She brought two fingers to her wrist and felt her own pulse. "Normal!"

Ginny could hear stringed instruments playing a beautiful tune from the hilltop. The notes hung on the air as if the wind itself was humming them. A group of four people rushed to meet them as Ginny felt herself momentarily lost in the music.

"Oh, there you lot are!" said the anxious, low voice of Luna's Aunt Clair.

Clair Lovegood had been recruited by her niece to be Official Wedding Director, although she was quite a jittery woman and probably would have been better suited for something not requiring a cool head.

"Okay...okay," Aunt Clair said, biting her nails. "Let's see how we'll do this." Her eyes were dashing from Luna to Ginny to Hermione, and then to James, Mr. Lovegood, and little Kylie (one of Luna's cousins who was serving as flower girl), then back over to Luna once more. "Who shall we send out first?"

Hermione raised her hand politely, as if she were back at Hogwarts and Aunt Clair was one of her professors teaching them all a lesson on marriage ceremonies - and as if they all weren't going to be late if Hermione kept the decorum going.

"Er, yes Hermione...what is it?" said Aunt Clair anxiously, surprised at seeing the hand in the air.

"We went over this yesterday, when we rehearsed in Luna's back garden," said Hermione calmly, obviously hoping it would rub off on Aunt Clair. "Remember? You said this was the sequence we'd follow: Me, Ginny, James, Kylie, then Mr. Lovegood escorting Luna."

"Oh!" said Aunt Clair joyfully, as if it had all just occurred to her for the first time. "Smashing plan! Let's do it!" She ushered Hermione to the edge of a white carpet that would lead them all past the congregation of guests, and ultimately to where Harry, Ron and the nervous groom-to-be were waiting.

Just as Aunt Clair was about to launch Hermione down the runway, James gasped and looked desperately at the thick grass that blanketed the ground.

"The rings!" he bellowed and Aunt Clair shrieked in alarm.

Ginny saw several guests on the back row of chairs look over their shoulders and down the crest of the hill at the scene

James had fallen to his knees, searching frantically through the deep turf for any glimmer of gold he could find.

Hermione sighed and took out her wand. She looked at everyone and said, "Am I witch or not?" She took James aside and pointed her wand at the ground and said, "Accio rings!" The rings zoomed into her outstretched hand and she stooped over to secure them back to the little pillow James was clutching with sweaty palms.

Luna and Ginny laughed.

As she watched her little boy sigh with relief, Ginny beamed. All was suddenly forgotten regarding the semi-cataclysmic events leading up to that moment and she felt a lump forming in her throat. She wondered if saber-toothed tigers got lumps in their throats...

Kylie (who was all of two-and-a-half-years old) was eating a bluebell when it was time for Ginny to go. As she walked away, Ginny heard Mr. Lovegood promise the little girl an extra-large slice of cake if she promised not eat any more of the flowers.

The music was slow and languid, and Ginny felt like she'd drunk a slug-based potion before she'd started walking. Her feet were keeping time with the measured tempo of the tune being played, and she thought that she might never make it to the end where Hermione was waiting so patiently. She felt as if her Refreshing Charm had run its course and was now leaving her feeling more worn out than when she'd first climbed the hill. But she wouldn't allow herself to pass out. How humiliated would Luna be if she did that? She raked her eyes past the many guests who were staring at her and fixed them upon Harry's. Ah, there he was. His brilliant green eyes were gazing at her in wonder - perhaps he was wondering why she was about to keel over, but no - his face broke into a broad smile as she stumbled nearer and finally took her place beside Hermione.

James followed, and then the music changed; instead of the airy tune the strings had been playing for the procession of the lesser folk, they switched to a dignified melody announcing the arrival of the bride. Little Kylie, the flower-eater, led the way, dropping half-chewed petals in her wake. Mr. Lovegood - sniffling and trying desperately to suppress full-blown sobs - clung to his daughter's arm as he led her down the aisle, and Ginny was distinctly reminded of her own dad, who had done the same thing at hers and Harry's wedding.

"Take care of my little girl," Arthur had said to Harry before giving him Ginny's hand. Any other time and Ginny might have flinched at being called a little girl - it was a label she'd never cared for - but in this case it was so endearing that it had brought more tears to Ginny's already flooded eyes.

She could feel her eyes welling up even now, as Mr. Lovegood gently placed Luna's slender hand into Neville's plump one. Mr. Lovegood whispered something inaudible to Neville, and Ginny had to bite her lip to keep from whimpering. She looked at the pair of them - Neville and Luna - and their hands clasped together so tightly they appeared to be one.

One hand, one heart.

Ginny looked over at her husband. Her heart - the heart she shared with him - pounded deep within her chest.

***

"What a beautiful ceremony!" everyone kept saying as Ginny mingled through the crowd at the reception.

"Such a blessing it didn't rain!" others proclaimed as she picked up several slices of wedding cake - one for Harry, one for James and one for herself.

Ginny hadn't exactly felt like herself since the trek up the mountainside - er, hillside - but she was hesitant to mention it to Harry. She didn't want him to worry. She was fine. She probably should have had more than half a piece of toast for breakfast that morning. Tomorrow she'd have eggs.

She felt her stomach lurch at the very notion. Okay, maybe a whole piece of toast instead.

James was looking at her like a miniature werewolf as she approached the table loaded down with cake.

"Here, darling," she said, placing a plate of wedding cake in front of her son. "Take bites," she reminded him when he began to wolf down the first couple of forkfuls.

Harry took a bite or two of his own cake, but all Ginny found that she could do with hers was look at it and think of how repugnant the notion of consuming blue frosting was. Suddenly she remembered little Kylie gnawing on bluebells like a baby cow and she felt positively sick.

One of Neville's great-aunts teetered over to their table and told her what a lovely vision she was in blue.

"Thank you," Ginny responded, amazed that the little old lady's sense of sight was still operational.

"Eat your cake now," the ancient great-aunt said before she tottered away. "They say wedding cake is symbolic of fertility!"

And it suddenly dawned on Ginny, as a fresh wave of nausea flooded her, that no cake would be necessary.

She'd felt this way before. Just one other time, but she definitely knew this feeling.