Romancing the Sorcerer's Stone

Chapter 5: Silver Stars

Ginny stands at the altar, poised and elegant in satin heels and a gown of ivory lace that drips with pearls, and watches Harry lift his harm to catch the tawny owl swooping out of the cloudless sky.

He unties the note, reads it, face brightening — and, really, should a man's face brighten when he receives a note interrupting his wedding? — and lifts his hand to her in a jaunty half-wave, emerald cufflinks flaring green fire in the morning sun.

She doesn't bother trying to stop him as he whirls away; there isn't any point. She's never been able to stop him when he calls.

She doesn't cry or scream, and she certainly doesn't faint. She calmly watches Harry spin away and then stomps a jewel-encrusted heel once — the only outward sign of frustration she allows herself — and curses Malfoy to hell and back in her head. She has no doubts that it's Malfoy. It's always Malfoy.

She wonders acidly for a moment if perhaps Harry shouldn't be marrying Malfoy instead. Then, shaking her head to clear it, she smiles apologetically at their gathered family and friends, announcing that the ceremony will have to be postponed (again) as her fiancé has been called away on urgent business.

"You are of course welcome to stay and enjoy the food," she says, smiling winningly out at them and forcing a light laugh. Someone ought to.

She stalks off to rail at Hermione in private as her guests do just that.

——

Astoria skirts the edge of the milling — and slightly confused — crowd, fingering the diamond choker around her neck. She flicks each of the three emerald drops in turn in what has quickly become a nervous habit.

It's a stunning necklace, she thinks, a trifle sadly. Draco has outdone himself with this latest set of apology jewels. If only they weren't emeralds I might be able to enjoy them more.

She sighs, dropping her hand. She'd have preferred the dinner. It had been their anniversary — not that Draco had noticed — and she'd planned an evening of his favorite things. Of course, she'd forgotten the one thing he prizes above all others: a new treasure to hunt with Potter.

She reaches up and unclasps the necklace before she can change her mind, clenching it in her fist as she weaves her way through the crowd

It will look stunning on Ginevra's pale throat, against that fiery mane of hair.

And, she thinks wryly, it matches her soon-to-be-husband's eyes. At least, he will be her husband, assuming Draco ever lets him alone long enough for the wedding to actually take place.

She pauses, seeing Potter's face again in her mind's eye, the way it brightened as he scanned the note.

Perhaps Potter doesn't mind being dragged all over the world at her husband's whim.

She fingers the emeralds again, wondering. She saw their constant animosity in school of course; they all did. But maybe there was something else underlying those years of tension that they all missed.

She hurries her steps, determined to reach Ginevra before she is spirited away by her determined, bushy-haired friend. They have things to discuss, after all.