give her love » james potter

48

I don't trust a person who doesn't have a single idea of what they want their wedding to be like.

Now, if I say that and don't go into deep depth into what I want mine to be like, well, that's not fair at all. I can't just be an extremely judgmental wedding snob if I don't let others do the same thing to me. So, here's the plan for the day I got married and keep my last name and just add on my husband's right after. 

The wedding has to be small. There isn't any room for argument on that one. A maximum of fifty guests, some friends and family, and as my number of those have gone down considerably, the number really just depends on my husband at this point. It'll be at the beach house because it's the perfect venue and I suppose it'll have to be a summer wedding because of the temperature then. I want lots of flowers and the colour scheme to be a cream brown, light blue, and a hint of blush pink.

The most important part, I want to wear my mother's veil. There was this agreement between Rory and I that, I would get the veil and she'd get the dress. Maybe a part of me is in love with the dress that always caused Elliot to say, "You know, in divination I saw this duchess named Meghan who marries this ginger prince, her wedding dress looked just like mamma's." But, I could never wear it because it was supposed to be hers and I want to give her that little gift that the dress will always be meant for her.

I'm getting my lavender bridesmaid dress tailored by Siobhan's mother. She's shortening the sleeves and the length, though it fits Rachel, who's over half a foot taller than me. I'm drowning in all the fabric.

Siobhan flicks her wand and her usual curls are put into an intricate braid. "What about this one?"

I frown, "Does the dress have any lace? I forget."

"No, lace didn't feel right for a summer wedding."

"Well," I say, then start to shake my head. "Then I liked when it was half up because it's not as if your hairs going to be covering anything."

Her mother, Delia, hums with agreement. She's writing down measurements into a little notebook while taking a sip of tea, the kind that Euphemia's book club drank. "I have some matching ties," she says, looking up at me expectantly, "would you like one for James? I already gave one to Rachel for her plus one."

"Yes, that'd be lovely," I tell her, before whipping my head to Siobhan. "Who's Rachel's date? I thought she was heartbroken that her engagement didn't work out?"

"Your friend."

"You know, I actually have started to gain enough friends that those words don't narrow it down to a single person."

She grins. "Oh, sorry I forgot," she says. "It was Remus. She bumped into him at the hospital and while doing some catching up-ing, she asked if he doing anything on Saturday and went on about how it'd be so dreadful to go alone."

Poor Remus, he didn't have a chance. 

"Romantic interest?"

"She frowned when I asked her."

"Oh," I realise. "Just wanting male companionship then."

Delia looks over at us, "Who's Remus?"

"James's friend," Siobhan replies, leans over to tug at the drop shoulder of the dross. "Mummy could you make this ruffled, I feel it'd be nicer since the rest of the dress is very simple."

Her mother who's ever so patient nods. Then makes another note before closing her book. "Why don't you two go over and take Maggie out of your dad's hands," she says, "I'll finish this up in about an hour and you can take the dress home, Lina."