Bride To Be

"Dennis, I'm scared," the petite French girl confessed when she was certain everybody else was out of earshot.

Dennis Creevey looked at her in astonishment as she stood before him. "Gabrielle, you're not scared of anything," he told her gently.

Gabrielle didn't match his reassuring gaze. Instead, she glared. "I'm always scared!" she cried. "It's my sister you're thinking of. She's the fearless one…"

But Dennis knew better. "Gabrielle Delacour, all these years I've known you, I've never seen you back down in anything you face. You're braver than you could ever imagine. You are fearless." He wasn't entirely sure what he was saying, but Gabrielle needed a pep talk right then, and as he was the only one present, the responsibility fell on his shoulders. Gabrielle still looked incredibly anxious, though. "Your sister's day has come and gone," Dennis said. "Today is all about you. It's your turn to get married."

Gabrielle shakily ran her hands over the padded layers of her wedding dress, as though only just realising she was wearing it. "It's just all so real," she breathed.

Dennis had never been to a wedding before. He'd never known anybody who'd gotten married. At least, nobody whose wedding he would be invited to anyway. Dennis wondered, had he still been alive, if his elder brother Colin would be married by now. Though who to, Dennis couldn't possibly imagine.

He watched her silently as she strolled over to the full-length mirror. It was all very intricate and elegant—as French as the girl that stood before it. Despite being a beautiful young witch (and how could she not be, considering she was a quarter Veela), Dennis had never really been attracted to Gabrielle. He recognised that she was very beautiful—flowing, silvery blonde hair, soft alabaster skin, and eyes as blue as the deepest ocean—but he couldn't find it in himself to love her. It was as though he were somehow immune to the effects of the Veela in her.

And yet, Dennis was incredibly grateful for it, because Gabrielle was one of the most honest and true friends he'd ever had, having been fortunate enough to make her acquaintance when she stayed at Hogwarts during his first year—the year her elder sister, Fleur, had competed in the Triwizard Tournament—and retain that friendship to the present day, a fair few years on.

"I don't know if I can do this," Gabrielle declared, pulling nervously at her hair. Dennis wished somebody else was in the little bridal dressing room with them at that moment. He had no idea how to comfort a bride-to-be with premarital nerves. But he knew he meant the most to Gabrielle out of all her friends.

"Of course you can," he promised, trying to be as enthusiastic as he could. "I mean, how hard can it be?" When Gabrielle glared daggers at him, Dennis held up his hands in mock defence, hastily adding "Alright, okay—maybe I shouldn't have asked!"

Gabrielle's lips were still tightly set in an uneasy grimace as she stared at her reflection. "Today I'm making the decision to spend the rest of my life with this man. What if he's the wrong one?"

"But you know in your heart that you truly love him. You have done since the moment you met. At least, that's what you told me. I'm certain he's not the wrong man," Dennis assured her softly, confidently, though in truth he wasn't sure how well he was handling the situation.

"No," Gabrielle moaned. "Not the wrong man—the wrong decision! I know I love him. Of course I do! But what if it's too soon? What if we aren't ready for marriage? What if he doesn't love me at all?"

"Then he's a fool! Listen, Gabrielle," Dennis ordered sternly, pulling Gabrielle away from the mirror so she could look him in the eyes. "You don't have to do this if you really don't want to. There's still time. If you want to run, then run. I'll cover for you—I'll be there for you every step of the way and support you in whatever decision you make," he promised. "But you and I both know that you are ready for this. It's okay to be scared, but you know, deep in your heart, that you want this, and you'd regret it if you missed this opportunity." Dennis pressed his hands to the sides of Gabrielle's head, trying to steady her and give her the strength she so badly needed. "Deep breaths," he ordered.

Gabrielle silently obeyed, breathing in several deep breaths until her heartbeat seemed under control. When at last her body had finally stopped shaking, she closed her eyes and pressed her hands to the sides of her head on top of Dennis'. Thank you, Dennis," she said. "You always know exactly what to say."

Dennis felt relieved. He'd just been going with whatever had first sprung to his mind, but perhaps that was the best way to handle the situation. After all, it had worked, hadn't it? He leant in close, brushing the top of her head with her lips and breathing in the flowery aroma of whatever perfume she was wearing. They lingered like that for a second—a perfect, stolen moment—and then he released her, taking a step back. Dennis beamed. "So," he asked, "you ready to get married?"

"Absolutely," Gabrielle said, beaming back, the life and energy back in her eyes once more. "Wait, what if I forget what I have to say?" she suddenly asked, panic gripping at her once more.

Dennis internally sighed. Just as he'd managed to calm her down…

"Relax," he said. "How can you forget?"

"I've never gotten married before," Gabrielle protested. "What am I supposed to say?"

"Er… I love you?" Dennis teased.

She glared at him with mock anger.

"Just say 'I do'—that's the most important part. If you get that bit right then nobody cares what you say for the rest of the wedding!"

Gabrielle rolled her eyes at him. "I'll make sure I give you the same pep talk right before your wedding," she joked. But there was no anger, only light-hearted adoration for the younger Creevey brother.

Just then, the distant but unmistakable melody from an organ began to echo around the room. "I believe that's your cue," Dennis told her with a friendly, reassuring smile. "You can do this," he said, one final time, as the uneasiness flitted back into her eyes.

Gabrielle began muttering under her breath, reassuring herself that she was fine as she headed towards the door, her long train sweeping along behind her. "Thanks, Dennis," she called over her shoulder, returning his warm grin. "Thanks for everything."

And then she was gone, floating away like a delicate feather caught in a summer breeze.

Almost too suddenly, Dennis realised he was probably supposed to be seated before Gabrielle walked down the aisle. Best not to upstage the bride at her own wedding…

As he hastily ran for the door she'd just left through, Dennis stopped abruptly as he too became entranced by the ornate mirror. Wrinkling his nose in disgust at the awful, sickeningly frilly dress robes that covered him from head to toe, he tried to remember who had talked him into this.

But Dennis' grimace melted into a smile as he realised the answer. He knew he would wear any number of ridiculous outfits if it made Gabrielle Delacour's wedding perfect.

And maybe, one day, she might just return the favour.

Originally written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition—Round 10

Team: Wigtown Wanderers
Position: Chaser 2
Character: Dennis Creevey
Additional Prompts: Sentence: S/he tried to remember who had talked him/her into this, Dialogue: "Er… I love you?" and Dialogue: "I shouldn't have asked."