A Pleasure

Professor Snape sat down to begin reading the Gryffindors essays, seething at the school board. He actually had to read these children's writings. No doubt they were all bad showing how exactly idiotic the Gryffindors were. Sighing he reached for the top and reading the title his eyes widened. It said My First Wedding and with a sneer he began reading, knowing fully well that when he was done he would have extra ammo for whoever had written this.

Oh yes, he couldn't wait to see this Gryffindor.

Inside my heart continued pounding as loud in my ears as the wedding procession. I had seated myself next to the organ where music blasted out of the speaker that was only four feet away from me. I smiled or rather grinned as the bride and groom stepped out proudly down the walkway and I was excited since this was the first time I had gone to a muggle wedding, it was also the first time I had ever gone to a wedding.

My aunt's dress was entirely that of a simple, elegant form. Pure white like snow that glistened in the sunlight was the hue of my aunt's majestic dress. Vibrant like a goddess she descended from the platform with her head arched proudly and a tip to her mouth that suggested only a little of her great happiness that day. The groom was a stolid man of about the same age, bright in youth as she was too and in a few months I found him to be a favorite of my great-aunt, my aunt's shrewd mother.

Shrewd in terms of at the height of my utmost admiration for her ability to scare my brothers, every one of them with only a few words (with an added well-chosen look) and being able to bully just about all her relatives in a good-natured way. For all she was non-magical but if she had been, I shudder to think of how defeated as well as sheepish (my great-aunt had tongue as sharp as a dragon at times minus the fire) Voldemort would be right now.

The couple slid gracefully to sit onto the two chairs, in front of whom I supposed to be the Baptist (or maybe a minister), a weighty man of a funnily shaped nose, it seemed to roll or leap whenever he moved his head. Then the singing began and I ignored the loud music as much as I could. My mind wandered to the seemingly Celtic origination of stained glass set in the deeds of Jesus and although with a sharp edge to it I deducted that colors were picked with good judgment but that I could not make any sense of the order. Nevertheless I liked to watch the dancing rays of the glorious sun glide through the stained glass to become the many hues similar yet still different at every angle.

I wondered about the sayings of the minister or Baptist whatever he was called since he was lecturing in quite a clever so as to easily let a person remember the clear as ice meaning. As forgetful as I am I now cannot remember what he said nor what my recently acquired cousin, Jennifer whom I never knew existed but was a genius since though only fourteen she was already graduating from Beauxbatons.

Finally we proceeded to pray (my family hadn't exactly been very much religious but the bride's family was) on our knees. In the end I had light indigo bruises which was entirely my fault for not bring out the small cushioned bench for people's knees. I plain didn't care (it was as well that no one knew that I hadn't exactly known what it was) and bruises interested me after all. I patiently went through this small ordeal and then came the handshake of peace as it is called if I remember correctly which I am sure I don't. Sardonically I had just about isolated myself to the other side of the church (more like a small cathedral to me) so, as the closest people were the organist and the singer.

They incidentally I knew would not shake hands with me but two of my cousins did come and shake hands with; David age 14, Justin age 13 both of whom after shaking hands with me commented that my hands were as cold as a corpse. The next day they concluded that I must not be human but must be some evil being of such or a dead corpse that no one had discovered has risen from the dead yet. Other conclusions of theirs were more foul and prejudiced (as well as funny) but throughout the cursing of my name I was quite amused. They had I known merely attempted to gouge some kind of reaction from me and they did although the opposite of what they thought would come out.

Also they hadn't known... yet that my older brothers actually knew some rather good curses, real ones at that.

But what all three of us agreed on was that my brothers must be part demon (my cousins thought this more likely and that my brothers were probably part cannibal mixed in with the vexing demon part) or pixie. In my private part of mind I considered my two cousins and my brothers (especially Fred and George) as the quad-annoying club since even though I locked myself in my younger aunt's bedroom they nevertheless charged in by the window.

Boys, they were exactly the same usually, I was just lucky that my six brothers since they were all worrying about since they best men (or if you count Ron, hater of weddings, sodding idiot!) could not bother me as much.

Justin was just about as tall as me but a loquacious young man that would not have I bet ever had actually talked to me unless forced to since the first time I saw him and his sister I invited him to read. That was a reason for him to abruptly leave. With angular face and dark hair that struck out in strange angles he was for all his young looks going to his fifth year at the other academy for witchcraft and wizardry. Similar to his black hair in many ways his arms and legs had sharp angles to them even though he ate as much as any sea lion I had ever met.

(I actually did meet a sea lion while in Florida, a rather fat one whom could lift itself out of the water onto land quite easily. It was rather interesting visiting an American city.)

David similar to Justin except a head taller than me and the kidnapper of my books. With dark hair set in the similar style rather popular to young wizards and a rather you might say charming face. He didn't charm me in fact except to rise my vexation upon him and just scare him because of my indulgences since I have already told you before he thought me a corpse. It was later on that he thought me a murderer and it was just when he thought that I began to tell him of my indulgences.

In informing him of my observations of the many ways to torture a person.

A square face and an accent that made one think of a jackrabbit hopping frantically, actually if I just positioned his face in such a... unseemly way. He then would be a jackrabbit. It was just too coincidental that he should have overheard me talking to myself about exactly how to put his face in such an unseemly way.

Justin and David pored over schemes I think in forcing me to talk. Whenever I showed any emotion they high fived with an enthusiasm that only an archaeologist whom had just found some ancient artifact could match. And I wasn't that old either I'm a year younger than Justin about to go to Hogwarts soon. They held the books I read hostage and the ransom was to talk to them an order that I hardly relished. Instead I turned talking around and just threatened them colorfully.

No wonder you, my diary will be shocked since you've never seen (I'm sorry, I forgot you can't see) me, a young (seemingly fragile) girl hold a fork or knife or shoe (of varied colors) in my hand aimed to throw. I hadn't gotten my wand yet; a thing I would mull over it a few days after almost wanting to march Ollivanders Wands by myself, but oh the many possibilities!

The wedding party was fruitless. For the grown-ups it went along pleasantly for me I brooded most of the entire way in attempting to rescue my book, The Deeds of Paksenarrion, a relatively interesting Fantasy muggle story. I did once but it ended in the left corner being ripped off, I never did that again after that. When the dancing began I became bored so went outside in the lobby which is where the excitement probably begins.

I played tag with David, Justin, and Brandon (another relative age seven years). A warning to all girls never play tag whilst wearing a long dress on slippery floors. Why? To avoid tackling seven-year-old boys which I did and in doing that I almost broke his nose in the process. He quickly got over his seemingly "bruised" nose when for my punishment in my accidental tackle I let him throw my own shoe at me. What I should have done was dodge it but I didn't as stupidly as the decision of staying my ground was. I had a crimson mark in the shape of my own shoe on my left arm but it disappeared after I poured a little cold water on it.

Smarting I ran out to be confronted by a thrown shoe (mine to be exact) whom had after hitting me been left on the floor to be caught by an amused older cousin whom promptly through it at me. This time I dodged. He ran a head taller he may be (it was David) but he picked the worst place to hide in. The Men's Restroom which I sprinted into and throw the shoe at his back hardly missing but narrowly hitting another man's head whom had the unfortunate luck to be using the restroom in their at the time.

I will bless the architect who designed the bathroom since a curve in this bathroom hid the man's form from view. I slipped out with a hasty apology followed by a very shocked David. We all swiftly got over it and I commenced to disappear into a reserved room to go into the despairs of humiliation, wasn't in the excruciatingly vexing pit for long since I fell asleep. So ends the first day and time I ever went to a wedding.

Snape was snickering by the time he finished as close to a true smile as he could get, which was not much. But the thought was what counted; he couldn't wait to talk to little Ms. Weasley.

Ginny waited apprehensively knowing what would happen next. Oh why hadn't she checked that she had turned in the right homework? Why did she have to rip out that particular page to read? She could feel the feared Potions Professor glaring at her.

Of course she didn't know he was staring at her because he was deciding how to ask a particular question. Even the potions master got a little speechless at times. "Ms. Weasley," he called at the end of class.

The said person rose up from her seat amid the stares of pity from her fellow kyn, the Gryffindors, and the triumphantly spiteful glances from the Slytherins. She followed him into his office letting the door open wide; she would need an opening so that she would be able to bolt as fast as she could.

"Ms. Weasley I have found that you did not turn in your homework but gave me a part of your diary entry. Now I will reluctantly give you leave to turn in the homework you owed me before in today." Severus Snape hands twitched nervously as the sixth year tilted her head up to gawk at him. He knew the girl would be more shocked when she heard his next... uh, for better-said request.

"Thank you sir," replied Ginny, breathlessly thankful that Snape was in a good mood. But could Snape be in a good mood? It was almost impossible in the six years she had attended Hogwarts.

"And may I keep this entry as I would like to use it for storage use?" Severus Snape sat up to lean over his desk as the Gryffindor fell out of her chair.

Ginny blinked as she righted herself up into the chair, weakly. She probably hadn't heard right, no she hadn't heard right. "Professor could you repeat that question?"

"No I will not since you have undoubtedly heard it. Now what's your answer," he half-growled, he only wanted a measly sheet of paper and here she was being insensible. He shook his head relieved at that, Gryffindors never did have the brains and it would never be so. Not while he was alive anyway.

"Yes sir," replied Ginny immediately, a Gryffindor couldn't say no to Snape at least not with the threat of losing points.

"You are dismissed," the somewhat relieved man said.

The paralyzed student automatically bolted out the door, filled with confusion. Snape had actually read a Gryffindor's essay!