ch.54 Tradition

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Strangely enough, it was peaceful for a while.

The boys were exctatic when Harry told them the news. Niall already knew, of course. Zayn had to be told twice. (The first time, his mind was in the clouds). Tony warned me about being a good housewife and I hit him upside his head until he shut up. And Danny. Danny was alright. He was still getting used to being my brother instead of my father.

I started looking up wedding planners with Niall's help and we found a lady named Jordan, who sounded like she knew everything from how to prim and press the groom's tie to how to arrange for an ice sculpture of me with wings. 

Danny helped out, too, but his acceptance and tolerance was already a huge gift. Harry and I didn't want to push it too much. We also tried to keep all the plans on the down low, that way Danny could get more comfortable with everything and won't blow up on Harry randomly.

And Harry, Harry didn't have a clue what he was doing. The only thing he was sure of was that I would be the one in the white dress. 

Harry wanted to go all out, have my name sprawled in diamonds and my dress to have ribbons of pure gold, but I kept telling him I didn't want those things.

As long as Harry was the man I would be walking to and Danny was alright, the boys were happy, that's all that mattered. We could get married in Monarch Park in the white dress I wore to Harry's apartment the night he recited his first poem, Harry could wear his leather jacket, and the golden butterfly could be our priest...

But we wanted to be as traditional as possible, in order to balance out everything that has gone wrong: from Harry's trial last year, to me being shot, and everything in between. Nothing we have been through has bene traditional or close to any fairytale I've ever read, but that's exactly it. We don't have to have an ivory carrage or a golden harp, we loved each other and that's the only traditonal concept we've kept up.

Harry and I walked slowly behind Jordan as she gestured towards the various details of one of the ten hotel ball rooms we've been looking through. I had told Harry we should get something simple from the main Marriot, but he insisted on looking into the more extravagant venues on the outskirts of Westwood.

Now we were being guided by Jordan and browsing through the most luxorious building in Westwood.

Jordan's light brown hair bobbed slightly as she pointed excitedly at the embroidery of the curtains and seat cushions, as if people would care about the slight coffee stain from the last party the room had held.

"Just feel this fabric and tell me it's not the softest thing you've ever touched" she insisted and she took Harry's hand and brought it close over the fabric.

Jordan grinned slightly as she carefully placed her hand over Harry's and guided it along the fabric of the curtains.

I fidgeted with a lock of my hair.

Harry felt along the seemingly-plush fabric.

"It's not the softed thing I've ever touched" he repeated to Jordan, but winked at me.

I smiled slightly when he moved his hand from the fabric and patted my arm softly, before letting it  slide down to my waist.

Nicole nodded in understanding and moved on to show us some other part of Cinderella's palace. 

When Jordan began arguging with one of the chefs to bring out an array of cake samples, I tugged at Harry's arm. 

He turned and looked at me slowly.

"Harry, we can't afford this place" I whispered close to his ear.

Harry shook his head stubbornly.

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