HugoOC written for turnthatfrownupsidedown

I own nothing you recognise, obviously.

And a warning: majorly, majorly fluffy ;)

The first time he met her, she'd been sitting in the courtyard with a brilliant green frog raised to lip level. She had hastily lowered it, however, when Hugo had come up behind her and asked what the hell she was doing. Glaring at him over her shoulder, she'd said, "I'm kissing a frog, Weasley, what do you think? Don't you believe in fairytales?"Then she had raised the frog again and kissed it defiantly, though she hadn't looked at all surprised when nothing had happened; in fact, she had merely sighed resignedly and slipped the frog back into its pond.

Hugo had wandered away from Resa, thinking hard about what she had said. Did he believe in fairytales? He'd never really thought about it.

His mother had read him Muggle fairytales when he was younger, but he'd never really understood them. The beautiful, vulnerable princess; the handsome prince who always got the girl: it wasn't a concept he was familiar with or something he'd ever experienced. He had never liked them much as a result. Rose had lapped them up, constantly begging for more, but he had only listened reluctantly, never believing what he heard. Rose believed every single word of every single story, but he had always scorned her for dreaming of happily-ever-afters and fairytale endings.

Then again, everyone said Teddy Lupin and his cousin Victoire were a perfect fairytale, and they were a living breathing reality, so Hugo supposed that somewhere, somehow, he did believe in fairytales.

The second time he met her, she was staring into a mirror with her wand pointed at her head, trying to bleach her black hair blonde. He hovered behind her, wondering why she was bothering. Resa caught his eye and began to explain, without his even asking, that the princesses in books were always blonde, and that it was simply more...romantic..

Hugo wasn't convinced; whilst it had to be said that his cousin Victoire was rather romantic, it couldn't be said that Louis or Molly were particularly princess-like.

But when he thought about it, the beautiful, useless heroines of all the fairytales he almost believed in were golden-haired, like Rapunzel and Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty. So, maybe she had a point.

The third time he met her, he asked her to Hogsmeade. They had lunch in the Three Broomsticks, visited the Shrieking Shack and spent a happy hour of two in Honeydukes, tasting their new flavours of ice cream. For the first time since he'd met her, she hadn't done anything even slightly odd, and he'd found it rather dull. He had gotten used to her kissing frogs in front of him.

The fourth time he met her, he kissed her in the middle of the hall, in front of her brother and half his cousins. She had been holding a needle experimentally against her finger when he rounded the corner in a group with the others. She'd jumped when she noticed them, giving a gasp of pain as the needle was driven into her finger, blood dripping to the floor. She sucked on it almost contemplatively as she stared at them all.

Hugo had been the first to speak. "What are you doing?"

She'd looked hard at him, her bright blue eyes searching his face. "Sleeping Beauty," she said simply.

He'd thought for a moment about shaking her, shaking her hard for even thinking about doing something that stupid; but he leaned forward, grabbed her wrists and kissed her instead.

He heard gasps, cheers and catcalls from behind him, but he ignored them. When he broke away from her, he looked her dead in the eye and said, "You don't need to try to make your life into some sort of fairytale."

She'd furrowed her brow, confused, and asked him why.

He looked at her like she was being stupid and replied, "Because you're already my princess."

And now they were standing together at the top of the aisle, about to get married. His entire family sat, misty-eyed, on the left-hand side of the church, beaming happily at him. Even his Uncle George, who prided himself on not having cried in thirty-five years, looked a little choked up.

He looked at Resa and squeezed her hand as the minister cleared his throat.

"Do you, Hugo Arthur, take Resa Louise McHale to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

"I do."

"And do you, Resa Louise, take Hugo Arthur Weasley to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

"I do."

"You may kiss the bride."

Against all his expectations, it looked like he was going to live happily-ever-after, after all.

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