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Author: RinnaMarie Story: The Favour Rating: Young Teens Setting: Pre-DH Status: WIP Warning: None Reviews: 5 Words: 17,912
Ron and Hermione made their way out to the gardens with half and hour to spare before the ceremony. Ron looked with interest at a nearby fern bush, as he thought he saw fairy lights twinkling inside it. Hermione noticed and pointed at a long, green cord that snaked away from the bush and into a small silver box on a peg. “They’re electric, see?” she said, holding up a leaf. Ron peered into the bush and saw that the lights, far from being held by actual fairies as was the custom at special wizarding events, were attached to the cord, which was wound throughout the entire bush. Ron stepped back as Hermione let the leaf fall back into place. “Amazing,” he muttered, as she steered him along the garden path. All of the ferns lining the path were twinkling in the same manner. A gentle breeze drifted across the lawn, causing the ferns to sway gently. He had to admit that with the breeze, the effect looked remarkably similar to the real thing. They walked to the end of the path and rounded an ivy-bedecked trellis. A large canopy had been erected, covering an area roughly the size of a Quidditch pitch. Beneath the canopy, white chairs stood neatly in rows, marked off by green ribbons. A white aisle ran down the length of the tent, ending in an elaborate archway covered in ivy and hydrangeas. Many of the chairs were already full, and a handful of people were milling about near the trellis, which Ron guessed marked the back of the canopy. Hermione looked nervously around the area, scouting for her parents. She hadn’t yet seen them, and assumed that they’d want her to sit with them. She glanced at Ron, and had to fight to keep from laughing out loud. He was looking at his surroundings with an expression that alternated from amused to confused depending on where his gaze landed. She steered him in the direction of the ushers, hoping that once they were seated she could relax for a minute. Her cousin Andrew, Sasha’s brother, was standing sentry near the back of the canopy. She caught his eye, and he smiled at her. “Guarding the bride,” he said, indicating over his shoulder. “She’d have my head if Tartan saw her before the ceremony.” He looked quickly over his shoulder, and jogged over to Hermione. “You look good,” he said, kissing her cheek. “So do you,” Hermione replied, eyeing his waistcoat and trousers. “Very posh.” “Yeah, that’s what they tell me,” said Andrew. He turned to Ron and extended a hand. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.” “My apologies,” said Hermione, as Ron shook Andrew’s hand. “Andrew Tweedy, this is Ron Weasley. He’s from Devon, and now lives in Boston. Ron, this is Andrew, my cousin, and brother of the bride. When not standing guard over his sister, he plays football professionally and woos thousands of women around the globe.” Andrew grinned. “I wouldn’t say thousands. Hundreds, maybe.” He turned to Ron. “So you’re our Hermione’s gentleman friend, are you? Good luck with her. Stubborn as a mule, that one.” Hermione swatted at Andrew’s arm. “Shut it, you prat. Go and guard your sister. And give her my love.” Andrew offered them a mock salute and jogged back over to his post. She rolled her eyes at Ron, and led him back to the aisle. “Friend of the bride, or the groom?” asked the usher, a tall raven-haired man with a clipped Indian accent. “Family of the bride,” replied Hermione. Ron watched helplessly as the usher offered Hermione an arm, and she took it and started down the aisle. Was he supposed to wait for an escort as well? The other ushers looked at him expectantly. “Are you with the lady in lavender?” asked the one nearest to Ron. “What? Yes, I am,” said Ron. “Well, go on then; else she’ll be seated without you.” Ron nodded at him, and hurried down the aisle. He caught up with Hermione and her escort as he steered her down the second row of chairs from the front of the canopy. The usher gave Ron a curt nod, and headed back up the aisle to seat the next set of guests. Hermione moved down to the very end of the row, and looked back at him. “Come and sit on my other side, Ron. Your legs are longer than mine are,” she said, pointing to the chair at the end of the row. Ron walked carefully down the row and took his seat. Hermione sat daintily next to him. “I thought you’d be more comfortable with a bit more leg room,” she said. She looked around them, and lowered her voice. “Besides, now you can ask as many questions as you want and there’s no one beside you to overhear.” Ron nodded. “Your cousin is marrying a man named Tartan?” “What?” asked Hermione. “Oh, no, that’s just what Andrew calls him because he’s Scottish. His name’s Ian McDougal. I imagine he and all his groomsmen are wearing kilts.” “Really? They do that at Muggle weddings?” asked Ron. “Sometimes,” said Hermione, “If the bride or groom happens to have a family tartan that they want to show off.” “Interesting,” said Ron, looking around. “So what happens now?” “Well,” said Hermione, “We wait for the ceremony to start. We’ve still got ten minutes or so until then. It’ll start with a processional. Sasha and Ian’s grandparents and parents will come in first, then the bridesmaids, if she has any.” “Bridesmaids? Like someone who cleans up after her?” “No, Ron,” said Hermione with a smile. “’Maid’ short for ‘maiden.’ Attendants, really. Dating back to times in history when the brides were at risk of kidnapping on their wedding days, so they were accompanied by other maidens to protect and guard them. It’s symbolic only, now.” “Huh,” said Ron, nodding absently. He watched the nattily dressed ushers escort more people to various chairs around the room. “Is there assigned seating or something?” he asked, turning back to Hermione. “What? No,” she said. “Not really, anyway. Generally speaking, the families of both parties sit closest. Guests and family of the bride are usually seated on the right side, and guests and family of the groom are seated on the left. After the bridesmaids, there is usually a flower girl who scatters flower petals in the path of the bride.” “Why on earth do they do that?” asked Ron. “Actually, I’ve no idea,” said Hermione. “I suppose just for artistic purposes or something. Sometimes, there’s also a little boy called a ring bearer who carries the wedding rings up on a silk pillow.” “A silk pillow?” Ron asked, skeptically. “Yes,” said Hermione. “Don’t really know why they do that one, either, but there you go. Anyway, after all that is done, the bride is escorted down the aisle by her father. He presents her to the groom. Then they exchange vows and rings, things like that, and then they’re married. Simple, really.” Ron rolled his eyes. “Not simple, Hermione. Half the stuff you just told me about doesn’t make any sense. Come on, Hermione – flower petals on the ground? Rings on a silk pillow?” “Well, they can’t exactly invoke the elements in a Muggle wedding, as they don’t tend to believe in such things. And the trappings may be different, Ron, but the event is basically the same.” Ron opened his mouth to argue, but a swell of music from a string octet on the left-hand side of the altar stopped the words in his mouth. Hermione looked around, and gave a small wave to her parents, who were being seated in the row beside Ron and Hermione. Alice Granger gave the pair a small wave in return. They all turned their attention to the rear of the canopy, where an impeccably dressed old lady was being escorted down the aisle. Not far behind her, Ron recognized Mr. and Mrs. Hillman, Hermione’s grandparents. Following them were the parents of the groom. Mr. McDougal was wearing a kilt, and escorting a tall, regal-looking woman in a navy dress with a tartan sash. Hermione’s cousin Andrew came next, escorting his mother. Mrs. Tweedy looked remarkably like Alice Granger – Ron considered the possibility that they were twins as she passed. The music changed, and three girls lock-stepped down the aisle on the arms of three gentlemen in kilts. The men looked rather dashing in their tartan, but the girls… “Hermione,” whispered Ron as the first pair passed their row, “What on earth are they dressed like that for?” The girls were all wearing what looked like drapes in a deep green colour. The dresses were horribly frilly and puffy, with full skirts that dragged the ground when they walked and threatened to trip anyone that came within three feet of each girl. Their escorts even had to extend their arms as far away from their bodies as was humanly possible in order to accompany the girls without risking their safety as well. Hermione stifled a giggle. “Well, Sasha picked out the dresses. Who knows why, but Muggle brides do seem to lose every ounce of fashion sense they have when selecting bridesmaid’s dresses.” She watched the last pair struggle down the aisle – the poor groomsman stepped on the maid’s skirt at least ten times before they reached the altar. “Although these seem to be particularly horrendous.” Ron couldn’t agree more. He watched the last green-draped girl take her place at the front of the canopy. “Why are they standing up there? Are they all getting married as well?” “No,” said Hermione, as a pint-sized green blob floated past, chucking rose petals enthusiastically from a basket. “All the attendants stand at the altar with the bride and groom. Again, I think it has something to do with protecting them from people who would try to kidnap or kill them on their wedding day.” Muggles are so strange, thought Ron. Killing someone on their wedding day? And why on earth would you stand up there if you weren’t getting married?
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