Fic: A Pureblood Girl’s Wedding for nevrafire
Title: A Pureblood Girl’s Wedding
Author: ???
Rating: PG
Length: 1,615 words
Character(s): Alice Longbottom, Gabrielle Delacour, Daphne Greengrass, Lily Luna Potter
Warnings: none
For a Pureblood girl, there are traditionally four rites of passage in life - the first wand, the coming out ball, the marriage and the coming of the firstborn son. Marriage is perhaps the one thing that all girls, witches and muggles alike, can relate to, with or without the weight of Pureblood expectations behind the event. But even for Pureblood girls, this stage in life is as different as the girls themselves.
I. The Blood Traitor
Alice Prewett had always imagined she would wear her mother’s gown on her wedding day. Like all girls of proper upbringing she had been read the same old stories of beautiful witches and their magical weddings. Her mother had died when Alice was still a young child and she had only her father’s stories and old wizard photos from which to make up in her own mind what her parents’ relationship might have been like.
Alice would sometimes look at her mother’s wedding gown, take it out of the large chest in the attack and unfold it, run her hands down its long full skirt and imagine what it would be like to walk to her beloved in this gown on her wedding day with flowers falling over her and enchanted bells ringing in the background.
When Molly, a distant cousin, married Arthur Weasley, Alice had been only ten and understood little of the rumors and whispers that went around. She and Molly were very distant relatives, the Prewett family having branched off a few generations back and she saw little impact on herself and her father, who wasn’t very social or political to begin with. What Alice did notice was that Molly’s wedding was not quite as magical as Alice had imagined a wedding to be. But there was lots of singing and dancing and her cousin looked very happy either way.
Later, Alice understood. The Weasleys were what people called “blood traitors” and the Prewetts hung on that precipice as well. When Alice met Frank Longbottom, when she decided to become an Auror after graduation, she tip-toed to the edge of that precipice, closed her eyes and jumped.
On the morning of her wedding day, Alice stood before the double doors of a small church beside her father in a simple white dress. Inside, were a couple dozen relatives and friends and Frank, waiting for her at the altar. She glanced down at her dress, then back up at the quaint church, then took her father’s arm.
“Are you ready?”
She nodded confidently. She would not wear her mother’s gown - it represented to her something she realized now she did not want to be a part of, a tradition of Pureblood brides marrying into old prejudiced families in a ceremony with more pomp than heart - and the reception would be small and peaceful. But Alice was happier than she could remember being in a long time.
II. The Younger Sister
The older she grew, the more Gabrielle resembled her sister. Their mother said it had something to do with their Veela blood. Gabrielle did not know what she thought of this. On one hand, she loved her sister, but on the other, she wanted to be her own person, recognized for her own talents and charms, not just as someone’s sister.
Perhaps, for this very reason, Gabrielle chose to go with the traditional French wedding. Fleur’s had been a British wedding and a wartime one as well, with a short engagement, a lovely but hastily arranged ceremony and far too much Irish music.
Gabrielle, her long blonde hair braided back from her face, spent long hours pouring over music sheets, meaning to fill the night with waltzes and quadrilles. She put her magical art classes to use and planned out the decorations of the ballroom, simple but elegant, all in silver. The engagement lasted six months and in all that time, Gabrielle took a firm and proactive part in the wedding preparations to Fleur’s constant amusement.
“Are you trying to recreate the seventeenth century?” she asked, bouncing a three-year-old Dominique on her hip when she saw Gabrielle’s choice of wedding gown. It was a beautiful, corseted gown with a wide, voluminous skirt. There was a flowing veil and elbow-length gloves to accompany the dress.
Gabrielle shrugged. “Do you not like it?”
Fleur shook her head. “No, of course I do. But that dress is swallowing you. You have such a pretty figure…”
Gabrielle turned to the mirror and looked at herself. Her waist was tiny, her breasts lifted… The skirt did make her look a little small and perhaps fragile but she liked that. Maybe because Fleur was always so bold and fierce. Gabrielle wanted to be something else. “That’s alright. I want to be…enchanting.”
III. The Lesser Daughter
By all rights, if any Greengrass girl was to be the Malfoy Bride it should have been Daphne. She was the eldest and traditionally, a match such as Draco should have gone to her. But nothing worked by tradition anymore, it seemed, and it was Astoria who would be wed at the Manor in late June of the coming summer.
Not that Daphne minded - she did not want to marry Draco. But there was something about being oldest yet always second best to her sister that stung and hurt every time, even if just a little. Astoria was very much a Rosier, like their mother, blonde and slim but wide-hipped with grey-blue eyes and long smooth legs. Daphne was slightly shorter, a little narrower in the hips and shorter in leg, with ordinary brown hair and dark eyes. Astoria had been hogging the male attention ever since she came out.
It was amusing to see her sister fussing over flowers, dresses and guest lists. Astoria complained endlessly that with the politics these days as they were, she and Draco had to invite people they really had no desire to see. Daphne would listen sympathetically and thank Merlin that Astoria had chosen green bridesmaids dresses instead of lilac ones. Green suited Daphne a lot more.
She tried to imagine her own wedding, perhaps to Theo, who kept calling even now that they were out of school, and how she might look in a white gown. After the war, she longed for something perfect and pure, something all of her own. When she did get married, there would be no politics involved, she decided. Even if it had to be a very private wedding as a result. She was tired of politics.
“I don’t even understand why you’re so eager to get married,” Pansy told her over tea one day, rolling her eyes. “I’m in no rush to spoil my figure with constant childbirth.”
Daphne laughed, “Is that why you and Draco broke up?”
Pansy’s expression fell for a moment, then evened out. “Some men make great lovers, Daph,” she said finally. “But they would make awful husbands.”
Daphne had smiled and sipped her tea. She would have to drop Theo some hints at the wedding. It really wasn’t fair for him to tip-toe around a proposal for so long. People would start to talk.
IV. The Half-blood’s Daughter
Lily Luna’s parents neither conceived nor behaved as Purebloods did, which made certain things about the wedding preparations difficult. Such as explaining to her mother why she was so excited to wear a Veela-spun silk gown or convincing her father that brunch with Amiri’s parents was a time-respected ritual.
Explaining to Lysander that he couldn’t be her maid of honor was thankfully easier. “It’s called maid, not man, for a reason.” Lysander just nodded.
It was her father who sputtered, “But he is your best friend, Lily!” Later that night, Lily sat at the top of the stairs and listened to her parents arguing. “I don’t like it, Ginny. A Pureblood and a Slytherin.”
“She loves him, Harry. Don’t you want her to be happy?”
Lily sighed and listened, wondering if her parents would accept the reality - she was a Slytherin and she loved someone from a family her parents didn’t care much for. But just because her father and Pansy Parkinson did not get along well at school did not mean that Lily had to hate her son.
Actually, Pansy scared Lily a little. Amiri was her only son and although she did not dote on him constantly, Lily could feel that the protectiveness was there. But there was no one else she could turn to. Ly’s mother would put radishes in her ears for earrings, Aunt Hermione would lecture her about individualism and feminism, Aunt Fleur was too far away most of the time and her own mother…did not share Lily’s sense of style. So Lily sought approval from Pansy and they bonded well over gowns and table arrangements and catering. It wasn’t bad, although Lily did feel awfully inadequate sometimes when it came to wizarding tradition. Her parents never taught her or her brothers that way.
“Do your parents mind?” she asked Amiri one night with only a week left before the ceremony.
“Mind what?” he asked distractedly, flipping through Charms Weekly.
“That I’m not…a Pureblood? Or, at least, that my father isn’t one?”
Amiri looked up at her. “Since when do you doubt yourself, Lils?”
“I’m not doubting myself,” she protested, not quite meeting his eyes. “I’m asking.”
He laughed and walked over to where she stood by the window, putting both arms around her waist. “My mother hates your father. But she likes you, Pureblood or not.”
Lily hummed and closed her eyes, leaning back against him. “I want lilac bridesmaids dresses.”
“…Why lilac?”
“That color drives my mother crazy. I think it will be amusing.”
Author: ???
Rating: PG
Length: 1,615 words
Character(s): Alice Longbottom, Gabrielle Delacour, Daphne Greengrass, Lily Luna Potter
Warnings: none
For a Pureblood girl, there are traditionally four rites of passage in life - the first wand, the coming out ball, the marriage and the coming of the firstborn son. Marriage is perhaps the one thing that all girls, witches and muggles alike, can relate to, with or without the weight of Pureblood expectations behind the event. But even for Pureblood girls, this stage in life is as different as the girls themselves.
I. The Blood Traitor
Alice Prewett had always imagined she would wear her mother’s gown on her wedding day. Like all girls of proper upbringing she had been read the same old stories of beautiful witches and their magical weddings. Her mother had died when Alice was still a young child and she had only her father’s stories and old wizard photos from which to make up in her own mind what her parents’ relationship might have been like.
Alice would sometimes look at her mother’s wedding gown, take it out of the large chest in the attack and unfold it, run her hands down its long full skirt and imagine what it would be like to walk to her beloved in this gown on her wedding day with flowers falling over her and enchanted bells ringing in the background.
When Molly, a distant cousin, married Arthur Weasley, Alice had been only ten and understood little of the rumors and whispers that went around. She and Molly were very distant relatives, the Prewett family having branched off a few generations back and she saw little impact on herself and her father, who wasn’t very social or political to begin with. What Alice did notice was that Molly’s wedding was not quite as magical as Alice had imagined a wedding to be. But there was lots of singing and dancing and her cousin looked very happy either way.
Later, Alice understood. The Weasleys were what people called “blood traitors” and the Prewetts hung on that precipice as well. When Alice met Frank Longbottom, when she decided to become an Auror after graduation, she tip-toed to the edge of that precipice, closed her eyes and jumped.
On the morning of her wedding day, Alice stood before the double doors of a small church beside her father in a simple white dress. Inside, were a couple dozen relatives and friends and Frank, waiting for her at the altar. She glanced down at her dress, then back up at the quaint church, then took her father’s arm.
“Are you ready?”
She nodded confidently. She would not wear her mother’s gown - it represented to her something she realized now she did not want to be a part of, a tradition of Pureblood brides marrying into old prejudiced families in a ceremony with more pomp than heart - and the reception would be small and peaceful. But Alice was happier than she could remember being in a long time.
II. The Younger Sister
The older she grew, the more Gabrielle resembled her sister. Their mother said it had something to do with their Veela blood. Gabrielle did not know what she thought of this. On one hand, she loved her sister, but on the other, she wanted to be her own person, recognized for her own talents and charms, not just as someone’s sister.
Perhaps, for this very reason, Gabrielle chose to go with the traditional French wedding. Fleur’s had been a British wedding and a wartime one as well, with a short engagement, a lovely but hastily arranged ceremony and far too much Irish music.
Gabrielle, her long blonde hair braided back from her face, spent long hours pouring over music sheets, meaning to fill the night with waltzes and quadrilles. She put her magical art classes to use and planned out the decorations of the ballroom, simple but elegant, all in silver. The engagement lasted six months and in all that time, Gabrielle took a firm and proactive part in the wedding preparations to Fleur’s constant amusement.
“Are you trying to recreate the seventeenth century?” she asked, bouncing a three-year-old Dominique on her hip when she saw Gabrielle’s choice of wedding gown. It was a beautiful, corseted gown with a wide, voluminous skirt. There was a flowing veil and elbow-length gloves to accompany the dress.
Gabrielle shrugged. “Do you not like it?”
Fleur shook her head. “No, of course I do. But that dress is swallowing you. You have such a pretty figure…”
Gabrielle turned to the mirror and looked at herself. Her waist was tiny, her breasts lifted… The skirt did make her look a little small and perhaps fragile but she liked that. Maybe because Fleur was always so bold and fierce. Gabrielle wanted to be something else. “That’s alright. I want to be…enchanting.”
III. The Lesser Daughter
By all rights, if any Greengrass girl was to be the Malfoy Bride it should have been Daphne. She was the eldest and traditionally, a match such as Draco should have gone to her. But nothing worked by tradition anymore, it seemed, and it was Astoria who would be wed at the Manor in late June of the coming summer.
Not that Daphne minded - she did not want to marry Draco. But there was something about being oldest yet always second best to her sister that stung and hurt every time, even if just a little. Astoria was very much a Rosier, like their mother, blonde and slim but wide-hipped with grey-blue eyes and long smooth legs. Daphne was slightly shorter, a little narrower in the hips and shorter in leg, with ordinary brown hair and dark eyes. Astoria had been hogging the male attention ever since she came out.
It was amusing to see her sister fussing over flowers, dresses and guest lists. Astoria complained endlessly that with the politics these days as they were, she and Draco had to invite people they really had no desire to see. Daphne would listen sympathetically and thank Merlin that Astoria had chosen green bridesmaids dresses instead of lilac ones. Green suited Daphne a lot more.
She tried to imagine her own wedding, perhaps to Theo, who kept calling even now that they were out of school, and how she might look in a white gown. After the war, she longed for something perfect and pure, something all of her own. When she did get married, there would be no politics involved, she decided. Even if it had to be a very private wedding as a result. She was tired of politics.
“I don’t even understand why you’re so eager to get married,” Pansy told her over tea one day, rolling her eyes. “I’m in no rush to spoil my figure with constant childbirth.”
Daphne laughed, “Is that why you and Draco broke up?”
Pansy’s expression fell for a moment, then evened out. “Some men make great lovers, Daph,” she said finally. “But they would make awful husbands.”
Daphne had smiled and sipped her tea. She would have to drop Theo some hints at the wedding. It really wasn’t fair for him to tip-toe around a proposal for so long. People would start to talk.
IV. The Half-blood’s Daughter
Lily Luna’s parents neither conceived nor behaved as Purebloods did, which made certain things about the wedding preparations difficult. Such as explaining to her mother why she was so excited to wear a Veela-spun silk gown or convincing her father that brunch with Amiri’s parents was a time-respected ritual.
Explaining to Lysander that he couldn’t be her maid of honor was thankfully easier. “It’s called maid, not man, for a reason.” Lysander just nodded.
It was her father who sputtered, “But he is your best friend, Lily!” Later that night, Lily sat at the top of the stairs and listened to her parents arguing. “I don’t like it, Ginny. A Pureblood and a Slytherin.”
“She loves him, Harry. Don’t you want her to be happy?”
Lily sighed and listened, wondering if her parents would accept the reality - she was a Slytherin and she loved someone from a family her parents didn’t care much for. But just because her father and Pansy Parkinson did not get along well at school did not mean that Lily had to hate her son.
Actually, Pansy scared Lily a little. Amiri was her only son and although she did not dote on him constantly, Lily could feel that the protectiveness was there. But there was no one else she could turn to. Ly’s mother would put radishes in her ears for earrings, Aunt Hermione would lecture her about individualism and feminism, Aunt Fleur was too far away most of the time and her own mother…did not share Lily’s sense of style. So Lily sought approval from Pansy and they bonded well over gowns and table arrangements and catering. It wasn’t bad, although Lily did feel awfully inadequate sometimes when it came to wizarding tradition. Her parents never taught her or her brothers that way.
“Do your parents mind?” she asked Amiri one night with only a week left before the ceremony.
“Mind what?” he asked distractedly, flipping through Charms Weekly.
“That I’m not…a Pureblood? Or, at least, that my father isn’t one?”
Amiri looked up at her. “Since when do you doubt yourself, Lils?”
“I’m not doubting myself,” she protested, not quite meeting his eyes. “I’m asking.”
He laughed and walked over to where she stood by the window, putting both arms around her waist. “My mother hates your father. But she likes you, Pureblood or not.”
Lily hummed and closed her eyes, leaning back against him. “I want lilac bridesmaids dresses.”
“…Why lilac?”
“That color drives my mother crazy. I think it will be amusing.”