A fun drabble that was sitting in my drafts for over a year. Fluff and inner monologue. I'll leave a surprise for the end, but I enjoyed writing this fun little piece.
Forgive any missed corrections. I have a tendency a miss a few.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today…”
It was the best day of your life.
A warm day in the middle of June. Not a single cloud in the sky to rain on the parade that was your wedding day. Bells chimed in the background from a nearby church, the breeze gently swayed the foliage around you, and your ceremony was in a serene clearing within the forest.
Of course, not the Forbidden Forest. How could you possibly bring a muggle to a forest that was filled with large arachnids, murderous poachers, and trolls? Surely, he would either go mad from the sight or get seriously hurt.
"I take you, to be my lawfully wedded husband. To have and to hold..."
The man standing before you was certainly no simpleton. A scholar in fact... a well built scholar. You met each other on the grounds of Oxford College, where you two had collided in the library and he caught every book that fell from your arms. All six of them, almost by sheer magic. You remembered the moment his gorgeous chocolatey brown eyes captured yours, not to mention his grin that sent you to heaven and back - you couldn't resist his sudden invitation to coffee.
“In sickness and in health, until death do us part.”
You glanced over at the small crowd after you finished your vows. You had a few friends from Ilvermorny that took the journey to London for your nuptials, and they appeared joyous for your long awaited happiness. You had spoken to them about your worries, but they assured you that he would love you no matter who or what you were. You were thankful for their encouragement... but it fell on deaf ears.
You were thankful that you found a venue that was simple, calm... normal. The life you would now have to live until you found the right moment to explain to him that you were a witch.
“I take you, to be my lawfully wedded wife. To have and to hold—“
The moment was bittersweet. While you cherished your relationship with him, the foundation was built on lies. While you were truthful about everything else, like your muggle parents and occupation as a healer, being a witch was the one thing you could never find the right words to say. How do you even find the right thing to say?
“…for better or for worse, in sickness and in health,”
You had a decent reason why, several in fact. You didn't want to drive him away, or have him commit you to a mental institution... where you would more than likely receive a lobotomy, or worse... go against the statute of limitations.
In America, you were taught the rather strict rules when associating with No-Maj's, much less dating one. When you found the opportunity to travel to visit your aunt (who was also a witch) and surprise her at Oxford where she taught Muggle Studies, you ran into your future husband that very same day. It was a simple enough decision... you couldn't remain in America.
“until death do us part. I will love and honor you, all the days of my life.”
You hoped he meant that last part.
Now that you were officially wed, you never had to return to America. You were officially a resident of his native home, Scotland. You were thankful that your family welcomed him with open arms, considering he had only a few people that attended for him.
During the reception, one of the wedding games that your family introduced you both to, was to write the most scandalous secret on a piece of paper, and place it in an envelope for later. When you arrive to your bridal chamber, before you consummate the marriage, you are to read the other's secret and exchange your personal vows.
For good luck, they claimed. Yet, you knew it would be the end of your marriage before it ever truly began.
But as you sat in front of the fireplace with him, reading the small piece of parchment in your hands, your eyes went wide with... an emotion you couldn't quite put a word to at the moment.
Your eyes darted to him, watching his expression that was easily described as shock. He dropped the piece of parchment you wrote on that read:
You let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding in while he did the same. A moment of silence filled the room as you stared at each other. Then, out of sheer relief and perhaps the need to lighten the mood, you began to laugh.
You both did. Hysterically.
The relief began to flood your entire body, enough to make you believe you were meting from the warmth of the fire, and the sound of his hearty laugh. You simply couldn't believe it. You had dated this man for a year and four months long-distance, with the exception of visiting each other almost every month, and exchanging letters almost daily. Another six months to plan a simple-as-could-be wedding and to prepare your move from New York to Scotland.
The one thing you feared the most, was now a funny (albeit scary) memory to tell your future children. That sudden thought made you blush a bright shade of crimson. Being the attentive man he was, he noticed you stopped laughing and brought his hand to your cheek, rubbing the single tear that fell from your eye.
"What's wrong love?" he asked, concern etched on his face as he drew closer to you.
You didn't realize you had cried. "I- I just..." you struggled to from the words, "You were a wizard this whole time? And I never noticed!?"
"Born and raised." he smirked, "To be fair, I thought you were a muggle too. I think we were both worried about the same thing."
"I have so many questions now...." you began, but he interrupted with a light touch on your thigh.
"As do I," he started, "but for now, I just want to consummate our love, as your family so delicately put it." His grin turned into pure sin as he gently pushed you down onto the floor. He hovered over you, and the glow of the fireplace seemed to accentuate every single feature on his body that became new to you only minutes before when he took his shirt off.
His toned chest, his large arms, the freckles that adorned his body like a sky full of stars, and his hair that always seemed to fall in place. Messily, but perfectly.
"Make me yours," you whispered to him, pulling him down to give a languid kiss on his lips, "and I'll cherish you all the days of my life."
He whispered his reply against your neck, leaving kisses of fire in his wake. "Say you're mine and I'll give you all of my days and nights, Mrs. Sallow."
pixelskylines
yousharknotpass
izzy806
janainaart
romaincrisis
origamiaround
discoholicmusic
blakekathryn
stormborns
