George & Annie: an Unofficial Biography

Chapter 55: Beautiful

April 2020

Age 42

George stood in her bedroom, looking out its large window. The view of the forest outside was becoming a bit blurry around the edges, most likely due to the tears that had begun welling up in his eyes despite his struggle to quell them. In his arms he held one of the most beautiful young women he had ever seen in his life. Which was saying something, he figured, considering who he was married to.

How had he become so lucky? What had he done to deserve to have her in his life? And how could he be expected to let her go, while she was still his and his alone to love?

Inconveniently, ironically, he found himself clad in dress robes once again. I should probably get used to it, he complained silently. There was no denying that this would not be the last time he would find himself here, likely in this very room, in a similar situation. He would have to come to terms with this fact, somehow.

It's not fair! His heart rebelled against what he was steeling himself to do. He pressed her closer to him. Why was she forcing him to do this? It was cruel. It was too much to ask of him.

I'll never let her go!

She turned her glowing face up to him then; her warm, kind brown eyes impaling him with a look of pure and innocent love. Her breathtaking smile contained all her happiness, her excitement, her expectations for the moment.

"We should probably go, before people start to get worried about us," she said softly.

"Can't we just stay here like this, forever?" he asked her, kissing her tenderly on the forehead. He already knew the answer to that question. They broke apart reluctantly and began to smooth their mussed clothing. She helped him adjust his bow tie and collar, and he smiled his thanks. To his embarrassment, he felt a tear spill over onto his cheek.

"Don't cry, Daddy," she whispered.

"Just tears of joy, honey," he replied, lying through his teeth and wiping the traitorous tear away.

He wrapped his daughter's arm around his, and they stepped out from her room into the hallway balcony. Oohs and ahhs erupted from the four girls standing below them in the living room of his house. He carefully led Merrie down the stairway, ready to catch her if she stumbled. Ready to run away with her if she asked.

"You look so beautiful, Merrie!" they exclaimed. "Amazing! Gorgeous!"

All of it was true, yet all of it was insufficient; ridiculously inadequate in the face of her fabulous beauty. She was radiant in her gown, her wavy auburn hair intricately arranged on her head to frame her bewitchingly lovely face. He knew every father probably felt like this about his daughter - that she was the most beautiful girl ever - but surely it had to be different for him; more true, somehow. She was so devastatingly angelic, today especially.

He smiled at the four young girls currently buzzing around them. Joey and Janie looked achingly lovely themselves, dressed in blue gowns of identical color but different design. Roxy Jordan and Domi Weasley, who had never been more than arm's length away from his oldest daughter throughout their entire lives, were also there in their own blue gowns, looking charming as well. Of course, Merrie would let each girl choose her own dress according to their own preference. Other people's happiness always came first with Merrie.

Mine! She's mine! Forever!

"Where's your mother?" he asked. Maybe she had some words of wisdom, some escape plan, to help him deal with this.

"Fred and Art took her down to the tent a few minutes ago. Don't feel bad, Daddy. She's just as much of a train wreck as you are," Janie ribbed him.

It was time for the ceremony to begin. They looked out the window of the house from where they stood and saw the large tent in the meadow between Mole Hill and the Burrow. It was full of guests, all dressed in finery of their own. Today was the first sunny spring day after weeks of unending rain, and the natural world seemed to be celebrating the occasion of George's torture.

"Time to go!" someone said excitedly.

There was no more avoiding the inevitable, George thought ruefully. He took a deep breath, pulling in courage along with the bright scent of the girls' bouquets of flowers. He grasped Janie's and Joey's hands, then the group of them apparated to just directly outside the tent. One by one, the bridesmaids left them: first Joey, then Janie, then Domi, and finally Roxy. He stood alone once more with his sweet little girl who was all dressed up - all grown up, he was forced to confess.

It was their turn now. They paused at the doorway, and everyone in the tent stood and turned toward them. George slowly began to walk down the aisle with Merrie on his arm. Each and every member of his family, all of his friends, as well as a horde of strangers, watched and witnessed his heart breaking with every step he took forward.

The boy stood there at the end of the aisle, waiting for them. The blonde-haired, blue-eyed Irish fellow stood transfixed by the enchanting vision that was walking toward him at the moment. He was flanked by three older, slightly taller versions of himself, and another boy who looked slightly familiar. A moment later, his identity came to mind: he had been the other Gryffindor beater on Merrie's team.

Ryan Murphy was a good man, and George knew it. He and Merrie had dutifully waited to get engaged until after they both finished school. They had even patiently waited the two more years since, insisted on by George, before being "old enough" to get married. They were now nineteen years old: as old as he and Annie had been. As old as his parents had been. He couldn't rightly ask them for anything more.

Oh, couldn't he?

He is a good man, George reiterated to himself. They were an excellent match: two optimistic, quiet idealists. They both were easy-going and perpetually cheerful people. Ryan and Merrie had been the most popular boy and girl at school, not because they were the best-looking or the most talented athletes (although a strong case could be made for them on both those points, George reckoned), but rather because they were everyone's best friend. They were approachable, warm, and comfortable with anyone they came in contact with. They made everyone around them smile.

And they were so clearly in love with each other. The looks of joy and adoration now on their faces reminded him of his own wife, of the moment they had shared twenty-two years ago in Meredith's hospital room. He couldn't deny that kind of happiness to anyone else.

Couldn't he?

He's not good enough for her! No one is! his heart screamed as it bled within his chest. How could he hand over his daughter's precious heart to this boy? How could he trust her happiness to him? Her heart and her happiness had been his and his alone to cherish for so long now. He was the rightful guardian of them! The thought of relinquishing them to another man made him feel agonizingly hollow inside.

To his further torment, they had reached the end of the aisle. Ryan held out his hand for George to shake, smiling in humble, grateful bliss.

"Take care of her," George somehow managed to speak, rather than howl, taking his nearly son-in-law's hand.

"I will, sir. Thank you," he stammered, looking at George briefly in the eye before returning to gaze at his lovely bride.

George turned once more to his daughter. He slowly lifted up her veil, trying to make the moment last as long as possible. He kissed his baby girl once more on the cheek, and whispered, "I'll always love you, honey."

"I know, Daddy," she said, giving him a kiss on his cheek as well.

He took a step back then, as the boy - Ryan, he reminded himself to think of him by name from now on - took his daughter's hands in his, and the rest of the audience fell away from the two of them in that moment. As far as they were concerned, they were the only two people on earth. And that is as it should be, he told himself. He would have to take what comfort he could from that.

He must have messed up her veil, because Roxy and Domi began fluttering around Merrie, adjusting and arranging her dress and veil back into their perfect positions. He turned away from the couple then, and for the first time caught the eye of Annie.

She was seated in the front row, with Fred on her right, his arm around his mother for comfort and support. Her cheeks were glistening with tears and a sad smile graced her lovely features. Her violet eyes leaped out at him, drawing him to her as they always did.

George closed the distance between them in three steps, and took his seat in the empty chair between Annie and Art. Winky sat on the other side of his son, blubbering loudly; his parents and the rest of his siblings' families were spread out behind them. A fresh tear rolled down Annie's cheek as he laced his fingers into hers.

Despite the fact that they were both on the verge of openly weeping, he was amazed once more at how beautiful his wife was. She was dressed in a gown of a tawny, golden color, like champagne. It almost, but not quite, perfectly matched the golden color of her skin. Which meant she almost, but not quite, looked like she was wearing nothing at all.

Around her delicate wrist hung a bracelet of Tahitian pearls - the one he had bought for her on the holiday that had resulted in Joey. He knew without looking the Hawaiian peridot earrings were gracing her earlobes, hidden behind her soft, silver-strewn brown curls, and could see for himself that his heart rested in the hollow at the base of her throat, as it had for the last twenty-three years.

He squeezed her hand.

She lifted his hand to her lips and gave it a small kiss in response.

He looked once more at his daughter and her almost-husband. George had spent her lifetime trying to show her all the world had to offer, helping her to become the person she wanted to be. He could remember soothing her little hurts. Teaching her to fly. Tossing her, giggling, into the air. Bathing her grubby little toddler's body. Reading her bedtime stories. Watching her nurse at Annie's breast. Seeing her enter into the world. Witnessing her growing inside Annie's belly.

He and Annie had made her.

And now she stood before them, committing her life to someone else, giving her heart to him. They would be happy together, that much he was sure of. They would have a home and someday a family of their own. A life.

The ceremony was wrapping up. In an effort not to sob in front of the assembled guests, George had to turn away. He glanced at his son Art instead. The tactic worked: he was instantly distracted from his father-of-the-bride distress by the tortured look on Art's face. George surreptitiously followed the boy's gaze to discover what was paining him so.

It couldn't be possible... he's still pining for her? George shook his head in amazement. Art couldn't take his eyes off of Roxanne Jordan. It was beyond pitiful, at this point. How long had it been now? Five years? No - likely closer to seven.

George leaned over, put his hand on his son's shoulder, and spoke softly in his ear. "Do something," he urged, "or you will go mad. Don't miss your chance!"

Art looked questioningly, pleadingly into his father's eyes, desperate for someone to understand his plight. George could see it was agony for him to watch the object of his desire standing there, looking so lovely, and feeling utterly impotent to do anything about it. The poor fellow was somehow blind to the fact that Roxy had had a crush on him as well for nearly as many years as he had for her. The two of them made quite a pair, pointlessly frozen in fear of rejection that would never come to pass, clinging to a dear friendship that, far from being irretrievably lost, would only be enhanced if they were honest with each other about their deeper feelings. Annie was right - what was it about Weasley boys?

"It's worth the risk, trust me," he assured his smitten son, confident that his best friend's daughter would leap at the chance to be with him. "Do it today."

Art took a deep breath, and the hang-dog look on his face was replaced by a determined expression. He nodded slightly.

George patted his son's knee firmly in encouragement, and turned back to the wedding couple just in time for the kiss. The two of them then turned toward the audience, blissfully beaming like their wildest dreams had just come true, as everyone stood and cheered. Even George had to smile with them. Annie turned to him then, and he kissed her.

Now that it was over... now that Merrie had officially begun her married life, he found he was able to start to feel genuinely happy for her about it. It was a good match; she had made an excellent choice. And at last it was no longer looming ahead of him like a gallows.

As soon as it could be deemed polite to do so - or perhaps a minute or two before hand, but who was counting? - Art marched up to where Roxy stood alongside his sisters and cousin. George nudged Annie and surreptitiously directed her attention toward them. They were not near enough to hear what their lovesick son said to the pretty girl he had been admiring for so long, but felt elation for him when she smiled and nodded eagerly at him in response. The resulting look of ecstatic surprise on his face was heartwarming as he took the hand of the girl of his dreams and led her out of the tent, into the garden for a more private discussion.

"That was certainly a long time coming," commented his wife, a pleased look on her face.

"About damn time, you mean," he replied, smiling.

George's parents had made their way over toward them. His father gave him a warm hug and a smile. "That's one of the hardest things a father has to do, son," Arthur said knowingly.

"I never want to do it again," George agreed.

"Good luck avoiding it," Annie laughed.

"I'm planning on running away, next time," he threatened.

"Actually, I find it's far worse when you miss it," scolded his mother. "Not that I'm holding any grudges, dear," she added with an impish smile, patting Annie gently on the back.

"Enough, Molly. Don't add to their troubles today," Arthur admonished his wife.

"That's okay... I know you've forgiven me years ago now for stealing your favorite son away," teased Annie with a glint in her eye. George winked back at her.

"Ha! Stole him, did you? Seems to me you didn't take him away far enough," cried Molly jokingly. "I can still see him out my kitchen window every day...."

"Mum!" George protested indignantly.

"Favorite son? Not by half! Most likely to be incarcerated, sure, but favorite? Nah... that was always Charlie," added Arthur at nearly the same time.

"Hey! You're supposed to stick up for me! I'm your flesh and blood, remember?" laughed George. "No wonder I'm such a rotten parent - look what I had for role models!"

"Is that your excuse?" joked Annie.

"Too right, and I'm sticking to it!" he cried with a curt nod of the head to indicate the discussion was over. "Never forget: nothing is ever my fault, as long as I can deny it convincingly enough."

"Plausible deniability: the cornerstone of your empire," Annie muttered sarcastically.

George began to stroll arm in arm with Annie toward Ryan's parents, in order to exchange the mandatory pleasantries and congratulations of the day. As they passed by the newlywed couple, they could hear Janie teasing her older sister.

"Thanks again, Merrie, for screwing us out of a family trip somewhere interesting for Easter holidays this year. I heard Mum and Dad were considering Madagascar - but no, we get to spend a soggy fortnight in exotic Devon instead. What lovely timing you have," she said acerbically.

Merrie knew her sister well, and understood that her most biting sarcasm was reserved for those she loved best. It was a mark of respect if Janie thought you could appreciate it. "Poor Janie. I suppose you could come along with us, on our honeymoon," Merrie said with a laugh. Ryan looked alarmed, like he was about to protest, but Merrie reassured him with a wink.

"Ugh. No thank you, all the same," Janie replied, theatrically shuddering at the thought.

They were a nice family, the Murphys: warm and cheerful and lively. George and Annie spent nearly an hour chatting with the them, each reminiscing about the newlyweds when they were children - for George grudgingly conceded they were probably adults at this point. They both expressed their happiness about welcoming their newest family member, as well as lamented the fact that they were all too young to have children getting married. George and Annie then wandered back toward the Weasley side of the tent.

The Jordans were the first group of friends they met, chatting with Charlie and Sasha. "Congratulations!" cried their friends and relatives as they approached.

"I can't believe you actually let her do it, bro!" teased Charlie. "I had money riding on it that you would kidnap little Merrie rather than let her go through with it!"

"You came very close to collecting on that bet, Charlie," George laughed, remembering how the thought had crossed his mind several times today.

"You're old, mate," teased Lee.

"You've got a daughter the same age, git," he replied. "Just wait until the shoe is on the other foot - you'll get no sympathy whatsoever from me."

Lee shook his head. "I've got ages before I'll worry about that. Doesn't even have a boyfriend yet, my Roxy."

"Oh, really?" asked Annie, winking at George.

"Speaking of our darling daughter, have you seen her?" asked Angelina.

"Maybe..." George replied in a manner implying he absolutely had but was refusing to cooperate. "And I wouldn't be too sure about the boyfriend thing."

"Just what are you saying?" asked Lee, brow furrowing in mild concern. He had known George long enough to distrust nearly everything he said in that tone of voice.

"The father is always the last to know, isn't he?" Annie giggled.

"I think I'll let you sweat it for a little while longer," George needled his friend. "You can ask Roxy when you see her, if it isn't obvious before then," he laughed.

Lee and Angelina excused themselves and wandered off, eyes searching the crowd for their daughter, or at least for some clue as to what George was slyly referring to. Meanwhile Charlie and Sasha led them over to an empty table.

"Take a load off - you two must be tired of standing," Charlie offered courteously.

"My feet are killing me," George agreed. He nodded, untying his tie and unbuttoning his collar to loosen it. "I've said it before and I'll say it again: whoever invented dress robes should be cursed."

"But you look so handsome!" Annie said.

"You're biased," he said, smiling and grateful she still thought so.

"Not to mention blind," added Charlie as Sasha laughed a deep, rumbling laugh.

"Or at least profoundly farsighted," chimed in Ron as he and Hermione flopped down in the empty seats next to them.

"Who invited you ungrateful lot anyway?" George grumbled, scowling at them.

"Everything was so lovely, Annie. The girls all look so beautiful!" Hermione complimented his wife.

"Thanks, but it was all Merrie," Annie said, deflecting the praise.

George smirked, letting the table know they were being treated to Annie's usual self-deprecating response to compliments. And while the fact that Merrie had made all the decisions was true, Annie had worked herself nearly ragged making sure everything came to fruition. "Hardly nothing," said George, nudging her. "Where do you think those beautiful girls got their good looks?"

Annie smiled and shook her head slowly in disbelief. "You can be so charming when you want to be," she teased, leaning in for a kiss.

The rest of the table rolled their eyes. Ron coughed loudly, and Hermione sighed in exasperation.

"So anyway, back to polite conversation; how are the rest of your kids, George?" Charlie asked, interrupting the kiss before they got carried away.

While George would have happily ignored the question, Annie turned away from him to answer. "They're doing fantastically. Janie's going to start her last year next fall, going for six NEWTs...."

"And Flitwick couldn't be happier to see the back of her, I'm sure," George added, referring to Hogwart's current Headmaster and his former Charms professor.

"Oh, come on. Nobody could come close to the legendary student miscreant George Weasley," cried Charlie as the table laughed in agreement.

"It's not so much that she misbehaves, per se..." Annie explained with a rueful smile.

"She's the campus agitator," George explained. "She led a "Half-Blood Pride" parade and rally in Hogsmeade during the February school trip. Threw the residents of that sleepy little burg into a right tizzy, she did. They were glaring at me for weeks after. Surprisingly, she is no longer allowed to visit the village."

"She's the cleverest, most tenacious little thorn in the side of authority there ever was," laughed Annie.

"Little Miss Furious, just like her mother," George added. Annie swatted him. He smirked at the table, as if to illustrate she had just proved his point.

"What about Joey? I hear she's a wonder on a broom," Charlie asked.

George looked around the tent at the mention of his youngest, and located her immediately. She was sitting at a nearby table with - who else? - Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny. The three of them were having an animated discussion, hands zooming and twisting in the air in front of them.

"You've never seen the like, Charlie," gushed Ron, relieving George of the necessity of bragging. "She's amazing! The best seeker I've ever seen!"

"Better than Charlie?" asked Sasha, speaking up for the first time.

Charlie smirked. "Better than Harry?" he asked.

"Better than Ginny?" cried Hermione, dubious and wanting to be loyal to her dear friend. Hermione had never joined the family at any of the Hogwarts quidditch matches, so couldn't truly offer her own opinion.

"Better than Krum!" exclaimed Ron, dismissing the others with a wave of his hand. "And it absolutely kills me that she's George's daughter," he laughed ruefully.

"Taught her everything she knows, I did," George boasted, beaming with pride.

"See? He's insufferable about it, the bloody git," moaned Ron.

"Ron, she's only fifteen," cautioned Annie.

"Exactly! She'll only get better! I sent an owl to that bloke Preston, the talent scout for the Cannons. Told him he had better get his ass to a match and see her for himself. She's destined for greatness, our Joey, mark my words. And if I have my way, she'll lead the Cannons to the League Cup."

"Be reasonable, Ron," chided Charlie. "If she's really as good as you say, why would she bury herself with the Cannons?"

"Of course she's that good. First of all, Gryffindor's never lost a match since she's been seeker, which has been for the past five years..." Ron argued.

"Four years. This year is her fifth season..." Annie corrected him.

"Five. I'm counting this year's final match won already, which is a foregone conclusion," explained Ron. "Second, they've won the Cup seven years in a row now...."

"Merrie and Janie have been on most of those teams as well, you know," countered George, playing devil's advocate because he happened to share Ron's view about the whole thing. "There's been a lot of talent in Gryffindor lately." He left unsaid the fact that either Weasley or Potter children comprised nearly all of that talent.

"Maybe so, and some of those matches in the early years were landslides, clearly due to the Chaser Trio," Ron continued, referring to his nieces and Roxy by their collective nickname. "But ever since Joey's been seeker, nearly every single match has been won by 150 points or less, and all of them within... one... hour. Better never show up late to a Gryffindor match, or you just might miss it!"

"That's my girl!" cheered George.

"Ugh. Shut up," groaned Ron. "And as for playing for Chudley... well, hopefully her uncles and father have some pull with her when it comes to that decision. As much as I hate to admit it, George raised her right, supporting orange and black," he conceded.

"Have you got a couple of future quidditch stars then as well, Ron?" asked Charlie.

"Not really," he sighed. "They take more after their mum, see. Two little bookworms, they are," he said, sounding unenthusiastic but smiling with pride all the same. Rose and Hugo both were top students in their years.

"That's just what we need in the family: more Prefects, Head Boys and Head Girls," teased George.

"You're just jealous," chuckled Ron.

"Head Boy and Head Girl are brilliant accomplishments!" cried Hermione indignantly, finally rejoining the conversation. Everyone knew she was still sore that the war interfered with (in her opinion) her own unquestionable selection as Head Girl.

"They absolutely are, Hermione!" added Annie, reassuring her sister-in-law, and winking surreptitiously at George at the same time.

"Nothing to sneeze at, anyway," said Ron, putting his arm around his wife and giving her a little squeeze. "Oh, look! It's Luna and Rolf! Let's go have a laugh and say hello, Hermione," Ron suggested, pulling her up by the hand before she had a chance to answer and leading her off.

"What news about your school, Annie?" asked Sasha with polite curiosity.

"It's going well, thanks," she said simply.

George rolled his eyes. "Yeah, 'Going well.' There's a waiting list about thirty kids deep to get in, and she's pulling in a tidy little profit now I've finally convinced her to charge tuition," he cried, exasperated by her perverse sense of humility. He was terribly proud of her accomplishments, and enjoyed boasting about her almost as much as he did his children.

"That's brilliant, Annie!" said Charlie.

"Well done," agreed Sasha.

"It's not all me. Winky is still such a huge help. And I've got four teachers helping now - all excellent former Hogwarts students who are wonderful with children and content to teach elementary knowledge rather than magic," she said with a smile. "As well as put to rights the occasional unfortunate accident," she giggled.

"I'm not even bothering to ask about the twins," continued Charlie. "All I've got to do is read the latest issues of Challenges in Charming or The Practical Potioneer to see what they've been up to."

George smiled. "At least they never embarrassed us by becoming Prefect or..." and he paused to gulp for effect, "Head Boy," he muttered.

"Well, that would have been unlikely, considering they were only twelve years old when they started their seventh year," commented Annie.

"Still, I can't believe they were Sorted into Ravenclaw!" Charlie cried, pretending to be scandalized.

"Oh, don't bring it up," Annie warned his brother. "Someone's still a little sensitive about that one...."

"At least it wasn't Slytherin. I told my kids I'd disown them if that ever happened," George confessed. And while Annie had protested at the time, she admitted she didn't really understand what it meant. The point was moot, however. Aside from the twins, an entire generation of Weasleys had once again packed themselves into Gryffindor Tower during their years at Hogwarts.

Their conversation was interrupted by music - it was time for the dancing to start. After all the traditional dances were finished, George finally got a chance to spend a few moments alone with Annie. Well, in actuality they were surrounded by nearly a hundred people on the dance floor, but for all intents and purposes, no one else existed for the space of several songs while he held her in his arms.

George then looked around them at the assembly of guests: Tonks, Lupin, Longbottom, Jordan, Thomas, Finnegan, Potter, and, of course, Weasley families were all represented. A veritable smorgasbord of war heroes had come to celebrate Merrie's wedding with them. The illustrious personages were smiling, laughing, and dancing together. Charlie had taken it upon himself to twirl each of his single nieces in turn: Dominique, Janie, Joey, Rose and Lily.

"I never knew Charlie was much of a dancer," mused George.

"Lily is so lovely - Harry's going to have just as hard a time with her as you've had with your girls, I'll wager," Annie offered.

"Serves him right, if you ask me. None of them ever had the proper sympathetic feeling, to my mind. Misery loves company, I suppose," he added, chuckling to himself.

"Take a look at the couple dancing next to Teddy and Victoire," she said. George looked up to see Art and Roxy spinning slowly around, foreheads touching.

"Good boy!" he cried softly, happy to see the end of his long-suffering son's misery. "Looks like the next headaches belong to Bill and Lee!"

George's niece Victoire had rested her head on Ted Lupin's shoulder, the two of them barely swaying back and forth. Even though Ted and Victoire had been a couple for several years now, they had always struck George as an odd match. Ted was such a lively, animated fellow, always friendly and game for adventure; at least once he got to know someone. But in George's eyes, Bill's daughter often came across as universally cold and distant.

Annie assured him he was mistaken. "She's just content to be the quiet observer, you see, rather than the center of attention. Which is a blessing, considering a lot of people with her sort of looks prefer the opposite," she explained. Her natural reticence, coupled with the fact that virtually all the other students at Hogwarts were intimidated by her stunning beauty, combined to set Victoire apart from the crowd, quite literally.

With the curious exception being Ted Lupin. The two had been nearly inseparable from the time Victoire had first sat at the Gryffindor table next to him after being Sorted. Despite being separated from his best mates when he was Sorted into Gryffindor, he became fast friends with the other boys in his dorm, while curiously remaining pathologically shy around the females of his house, not to mention the entire school in general. That is, until the Weasley girls began arriving at Hogwarts. To the utter astonishment of the rest of the lovestruck Gryffindor boys, Teddy managed to spend loads of time with the prettiest girls in the whole school, Victoire in particular. Just like he had done for most of the years of his life, either at Mole Hill or Annie's school.

Closest in age, Teddy and Victoire's easy rapport with each other soon grew into romantic attraction once they hit puberty. And as much as Victoire's delicate, porcelain-doll-like features contrasted with Teddy's unkempt, almost feral ones, Annie claimed the match made perfect sense. She theorized Teddy's more canine attributes were perhaps comfortably familiar to Victoire, growing up as she did with Bill as her father. "If it's not part of the attraction, it certainly doesn't detract from it," she had explained.

Glad it's not my problem, George mused.

"I would have thought you could spare a little more sympathy for your brother and best friend, having gone through what you did today!" Annie teased him. "And where is your other son?"

"Where else? He's been all night at the table with the Longbottoms, planning his latest expedition with Neville, I expect."

They danced quietly for a while longer, covering less and less of the dance floor, until finally they were spinning just as slowly as the young couples.

"Dancing with you at a wedding is one of my favorite memories," Annie purred.

"Mine as well. Despite how our luck changed for the worse right after you accepted my proposal. You were a brave girl to stick with me, after that," he said with a trademark wink-and-smile combination.

"I disagree. I think we've always been terribly lucky. We found each other just in time to help each other through our darkest hours," Annie claimed, a thoughtful look on her face.

"I never thought of it that way. I guess you're right...."

"Of course I am. Don't you forget it," she said, hugging him tightly.

"I have no doubt you'll keep bangin' on about it forever, so I don't," he said as he leaned down to kiss her.

The night sky above them suddenly exploded with an extravaganza of Weasley's Wild-Fire Whiz-Bangs, announcing the departure of the newlyweds.