tampered | Open Log

Current Location: Chapel in the cathedral

Open Log

When; Sunday the 17th; 2 PM
Rating; PG-13 for surprise stuff.
Characters; All of those invited to the wedding. When posting, put "To {insert person's name here}" in the subject line so as not to cause confusion and utter chaos, as fun as that is.
Summary; It's a wedding, omg.
Log;

The cathedral echoed with the whispers of the small group of guests that had been invited. Sunlight streamed through the stained glass windows, making the stone floor glow in a variety of colors. The pews were decorated with roses, and white ribbon cascaded along the walls. It was a beautiful sight, and as Christine peeked through the door, she wished she had a photographer there to take a photograph, but she knew that the image had already burned itself into her memory.

Her thoughts drifted for a moment to her wedding with Raoul, and how, even though it was a very happy occasion, she had wished that it was her father that had walked down the aisle, and not Raoul's. She shook her head, going over to the mirror on the wall to check her hair once again. She didn't want to think about that. If she thought about the life she had left behind, she would be sad, and she wanted to be happy.

'Christine? It's almost time.' She turned to see her father adjusting his dress coat. He had certainly been cleaned up since she had first found him in The Shackled Bride, and looked quite dashing. His face brightened as he saw his daughter in her wedding dress. It was a bit strange and unlike the fashion in their world, but it was beautiful.

'You look lovely, dearest,' he said, approaching her.

'Merci, papa,' Christine thanked him, smiling. 'I'm very excited and happy.'

'Are you? I have noticed your sighings,' he added quickly. 'I know your mind drifts to the family you left behind.' He held out his arms. 'Come here, mai ange.' Christine moved closer to him, and let her father give her a tight hug. 'You know my feelings for Erik; I have not hid them from you, but I would not upset you for any reason. I have been here for God knows how long, and not a day goes by that I do not think of your mother and miss her so. I am able to tolerate this place, but I am not happy.

'Christine...if you can be happy in this City, you shouldn't stop yourself. Love this man like I know he loves you, and do not be sad. You have happy memories of Raoul, oui?' She nodded. 'Remember the good times, and do not mourn over what is lost,' Gustave continued. 'Embrace happiness. And remember, Christine....I will always love you. You will always be my daughter.' His hug tightened.

'I know, papa. I love you too.' She hugged him tightly, trying to hold back tears. Her father had managed to comfort her where no one else could. They drew apart and he kissed her forehead. She smiled, and went over to the door to peek in on the chapel again.

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Despite the fact that Hermione had drank several cups of coffee already, she couldn’t mask the fatigue that she felt, having spent the past couple of days moving into a new apartment separate from the Marauders. Time was moving far too quickly for her taste; Hermione found that she could not even always focus on keeping the Slytherins at bay due to all of the other stresses in her life. There was the whole matter of patching things up with Ron, and now there was Christine’s wedding to attend to.

Truth be told, the bookworm had intended to ask either Harry or Ron to the wedding. Not only was she more comfortable with the two of them, Hermione was very much aware that there was strength in numbers, and that being with one of the pair would be a good precaution to take in the event that some Death Eaters decided to crash the ceremony. However, after realizing that bringing either of her best friends would inevitably cause a major hustle, since she did not trust either of them nor Draco to keep their anger at bay, Hermione had backed out at the last moment.

She hadn’t really been thinking when she asked Draco to go with her. Granted, all of the reasons she had provided for the arrangement were true; Hermione despised lying to both of her best friends, and she knew that both of them would pester if they knew she was to go somewhere on her own. As long as she didn’t mention that it was Draco she was going with, Hermione hoped that everything would turn out fine in the end.

But as Hermione rushed up the stairs to the Opera House, feeling somehow underdressed thanks to the ample amount of skin revealed by the gown (http://i34.photobucket.com/albums/d112/theredex/hermy1.jpg), she couldn’t help wondering if perhaps this was all a big mistake. Fortunately, she’d managed to get her hair (http://st.blog.cz/d/demast.blog.cz/obrazky/21375.jpg) to listen to her, at the least, but the low cut of the dress was still something she felt anything but comfortable with.

After entering the large doors once more, feeling quite nostalgic at having left the beautiful building a few weeks ago, Hermione paced around the hall, knowing that Draco had probably already cast a tracking spell and was preparing for his own grand entrance.

Draco adjusted the dimple in his tie one last time and gave himself a last look in the mirror before touching his hair one last time before wrenching himself away from his reflection with a smile. Whatever Hermione may say, he enjoyed looking good, and he enjoyed spending time with other people who looked good. He had never worn a track suit in his life - sloppiness was for other people.

He had already decided to enjoy the walk to the cathedral, so he settled on a slow saunter in the direction of his meeting place with Hermione. His wand was securely in the breast pocket of his jacket, and he was certainly on edge, but he had woke up already schooling his features into a suitable expression of semi-cheerfulness. He wouldn't be the one to rain on Christine's parade - unlike some people. Hopefully Hermione had just left off inviting them altogether and saved them some trouble.

Despite the interpretation of his choice in dress, Draco really had been mostly motivated by a desire to not spend his entire day around an ugly person. He had to (grudgingly) admit that Hermione cleaned up well enough, it was just a matter of choosing the right dress; Draco liked to flatter himself that he had a certain eye for fashion.

Erik had taken painstaking hours that were positively deemed unusable for sleep to make him as handsome as he could be. The task was not one that he would usually undertake. But this was his wedding--the symbolic joining of he and Christine that he had hoped for.

He had caught a glimpse of Gustave Daae earlier. Needless to say he had seen a more festive face at a funeral. Would he urge her to refuse at the last moment?

Erik allowed himself to smile through his nerves as he looked up at a mirror he had placed at an angle behind a mounted cross in front of him. He could see behind him and thus far he did not see any trace of confusion or shock to betray that action.

Gustave checked his pocketwatch and extended his arm towards his daughter. ''Tis time, Christine,' he said quietly as she took his arm. He couldn't put words to his conflicted emotions. He wanted her to be happy, but the fact that he was really giving his daughter away to this man was tearing him up inside. But, as always, Christine's happiness preceded Gustave's needs and desires, and he would be damned if he didn't walk his daughter down that wedding aisle.

They stood in silence as Rue and Ahiru pushed the doors open, gracefully gliding down the aisle like the ballerinas they were. Christine beamed in pride at the sight; they truly were the best dancers she had ever seen and felt honored to know them. They were beautiful in their own right, and she wished that Rue's prince and Ahiru's knight were there to see it.

As V started playing a peice from Faust on the organ, she could feel a faint blush rise on her cheeks. She was always shy and had always dreaded this part. She was never fond of having too much attention be on her at once; it was part of the reason she always refused to sing for Monsieur Lefevre or Monsieur Reyer. Until, of course, a certain someone dropped a backdrop on a certain Prima Donna...

Gustave's grip tightened on her arm as they began the long trek down the aisle of the chapel. Everyone rose, as was custom, and Christine blushed, trying to avoid the group's stares as best she could, knowing she couldn't possibly hide from them completely. She glanced up, her eyes finding Erik's as he stood in front of the altar, and in that moment, all of her embarassment flew out the window. She had never seen him look so handsome before, and any doubts she had dissolved into nothing. He was her new life, and as she saw the quantity of love in his eyes, she knew that she had spent her entire life waiting for this moment.

Arms crossed delicately in a fruitless attempt to cover her womanly charms, Hermione leaned against a large marble column, eyes closing as she waited for her 'date' to arrive.

And arrive he did. It was the footsteps that gave him away, the pleasant tapping on the stone floor jolting Hermione's senses back into place, her eyes slowly opening to settle on the approaching person. For a moment, she was rendered speechless; despite how much she wished she could deny it, Draco was certainly rather attractive physically, even if his personality lacked in many aspects. It was also very rare to see his face unmarred by his usual smirk; rather than appearing to have any sort of ulterior motives, for once Draco seemed to be geniunely happy -- although his eyes still looked rather troubled.

Whether he had noticed her standing there or not, Draco had not yet made eye contact with her, and so Hermione ventured calling out to the slowly sauntering man.

"Good day to you, Mister Malfoy."

She left the comfort of the column, standing straight as her arms fell down to her sides. Well, if nothing else, this would be an interesting experience.

Draco had chosen to ignore the sloppy slouch against the timber in the hopes that when Hermione straightened up she wouldn't look so good. It was like checking out your sister. A few years ago he might have mimed gagging, but he liked to think that he was a little more mature than that these days.

He only met her eye when she called his name, and he flicked on the charm immidiately. It would be fun to pretend to be the nice and polite gentleman for once, even if it was only an act.

"And to you, Miss Granger. You're looking lovely, I must say."

A discreet flick of the eyes under his blond eyelashes reaffermed what Draco had already known - that dress was perfect for her. Truth be told, he had only picked out the low-cut chest in order to show off her bountiful hair, but since she had taken it the wrong way he wasn't about to argue with her. The ruffles balanced everything out neatly and the length of the dress made her look taller.

Draco, on the other hand, knew he looked good, and wasn't afraid to show it. His suit (http://i34.photobucket.com/albums/d112/theredex/wedding5-hugoboss.jpg) fit him perfectly and made him look that five years older that he often felt.

"Shall we go?"

All of the blood drained from Erik's face as he heard the music begin. Each note hummed through him. He turned and looked past the two ballerinas. Although their dancing was beautiful, his eyes were drawn to the blushing face of Christine. She was a very beautiful woman. He had always thought so. But in this moment, Erik could not believe how attractive she was. This was his bride. His living bride for the rest of eternity.

He couldn't help but place a hand to his chest to assure that his heart was still in motion. There were others in the cathedral but he could not remember to look upon them. Soon they were but a few steps apart. Erik finally looked away to the rather statuelike face of Gustave Daae.

Erik briefly made a small bow to the man and murmered a heartfelt thank you. The former phantom wished he could have specificated for what. But there was too much to be said. This man had raised the woman he greatly loved. How could he possibly place more thought into that phrase?

V's beautiful rendition of Faust drew to a close and the last few chords echoed from the high ceiling.

Gustave gave Erik a curt nod, and reluctantly squeezed his daughter's arm one last time before slowly letting her leave his grasp. It was like it was done in slow motion, and the muscles in his jaw clenched so as to keep himself from letting the tears flow. She was his little girl, and he had never thought this far ahead in the future...when he was dying, he hadn't thought he would ever see this day come. He supposed he should be happy, but a part of him just couldn't. She was his daughter, his little girl...

Regardless, he stepped away to the right, watching the pair, and giving Erik a fierce look that clearly read: Break her heart and I will kill you. As the last chords of music echoed off into memory, he sat down with the rest of the guests, wishing for a brief moment that his wife was there to see this sight with him.

Christine couldn't stop smiling, and she held the bouquet of roses that a Miss Rukia had given her tightly, as if they were the only things keeping her from soaring off into the sky with the elation of happiness that she was feeling. The priest had begun to speak, but his words reached empty air. She felt that there was only Erik and herself, no one else, in the entire world.

The prick of a thorn on one of her fingers made her gasp softly in surprise, but the priest kept droning on about eternity, and being there for one another, God, Jesus Christ, and other sorts of nonsense that never means anything to the bride and groom. She lifted her finger to nurse the wound for a moment, but not before a drop of scarlet blood fell onto the white roses.

She nursed it for only a moment, and returned her hand to the bouquet, waiting for the moment when the priest would tell them that they could make their wedding vows.

Music had always been a large part of V's life, but playing it publicly had seemed odd to him.
But as a gift, well, that was something else entirely, and it was clever of Evey to present it to him in such a way, for now he felt almost...happy to be able to give something of the sort to two people who could not deserve it more on such a personally momentous occasion.

Thankfully the organ loft was secluded, so he was able to remove his gloves and play the piece as he prefferred, now as he stepped down from the stairs leading up to the loft, he replaced the familiar leather over his hands, and silently moved through down the aisle to the seat Evey had saved for him, marked out with his cloak layed across it.
Not wishing to disturb the preceedings, he sat quickly, and took Evey's hand...then noticed lovelly rose in her other hand where it lay in her lap.
He was puzzled for a moment, for he couldn't remember her leaving their home with such a bloom, nor where she would have later aquired it, but for the moment said nothing, and turned his attention to the ceremony at hand.

((OOC: sorry for delay!))

When V returned from the organ loft, she sent him a brilliant smile and gave him a small squeeze when his hand found his. It would be utterly inappropriate to lean over and whisper that he'd done a marvelous job, and so her silent approval would have to do.

In truth, though, she was proud of him--not only for playing the piece so beautifully but for doing it despite his reticence to perform outside their underground home. There would be time to tell him as much later, though, and she had enough sense to hold her tongue while the ceremony was going on.

She rubbed a thumb over the velvety petals of the rose in her hand as the service continued. It had been handed to her as she'd entered the chapel--and while it was quite beautiful, Evey couldn't fathom why it had been given to her.

At the moment, though, the flower was nothing more than an idle distraction for her hand; her mind was fully on the wedding ceremony.

When absorbed in moderation, Hermione personally found certain degrees of self-confidence to be quite attractive; as much as she hated to admit it, she could see why many girls seemed to fall for the man now sauntering towards her, his languid gaze causing a bit of a shiver to run up her spine, which she quickly tried to suppress. Fortunately, she had been to her share of formal gatherings, her parents being quite well-off for Muggles and having many higher-up connections, so Hermione quickly composed herself and smiled back in return, lashes very fleetingly fluttering downward in embarrassment.

"I thank you, Mister Malfoy," she replied, voice rolling easily off her tongue, "And indeed, let us make haste; we wouldn't want to delay the festivities."

Draco only allowed a blink to express his mild surprise at her attempt at formal language, and not even an expressive blink at that.

"Of course," he drawled almost absent-mindedly. He didn't really need to think about what he was saying in these cases any more. A little flattery here, a little insinuation there, on a over-all dish of politeness...

Holding out his arm for her to take, he swept off in the direction of the doors at the quickest walk he could use without causing her to trip over her own shoes.

Hermione opened her mouth to protest as Draco very nearly dragged her through the doors, but thought better of it as she noticed a few pairs of eyes watching the two of them. Lips tautening, Hermione straightened herself up and tried her best to keep up with Draco's pace, a difficult feat considering not only the heels she wore, but the simple fact that Draco was much taller than herself, and therefore had much longer legs.

"Why are you in such a rush?" Hermione hissed, from the corner of her mouth, "I said to make haste, but I didn't mean to run."

Another blink signaled Draco's surprise once again and he slowed his walk half a step to accommadate the stuttering strides of his partner in high heels. Obviously he was a little rusty. How embarressing.

Well, best to put a good face on it.

"I would rather arrive on time if possible."

Breathing heavily as the pace finally slowed down--it wasn't that she was out of shape at all, but heels always made things infinitely more difficult--and releasing a sigh of relief, Hermione took a few seconds to catch her breath. "W-well," she replied, voice still thin, "We're here now, so no need to rush."

Hermione stared at the large doors before them, eyes taking in the decorations inside with awe. She'd been to a wedding or two in her time, but never anything like this. A small, irrepressible smile curled up her lips as her eyes gazed about at the flowers hung around the Opera House.

Immidiately slowing to a sedate and leasurely pace, Draco gave his wide-eyed partner for the day a small smile. Weddings in his family were always an extravigant event, unsurprisingly, but even on that scale Christine and Erik had done an amazing job.

He lead Hermione to one of the 'family friends' seats in the front pews and slid inside. Surprisingly he was a little nervious - he wanted this wedding to go off well, without a hitch. Christine deserved it, being such a wonderful woman. Draco would have a hard time admitting it, but he cared something for her, like a younger brother would.

Sounds good to me~ (Too lazy to sign out, sorry. D:)

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Open Log

To Draco [aw I'd have her to go Christine and hug her but Hermione agreed to go with Draco D:]

{TO Hermy - for now}

no subject

no subject

To Draco

ditto

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

To Draco

To Hermy laziness

To Draco

To Hermy

To Draco

To Hermy

OOC

ooc

Open Log

To Draco [aw I'd have her to go Christine and hug her but Hermione agreed to go with Draco D:]

{TO Hermy - for now}

no subject

no subject

To Draco

ditto

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

To Draco

To Hermy *laziness*

To Draco

To Hermy

To Draco

To Hermy

OOC

ooc

To Hermy laziness