The French Minister of Magic, Luc Beniot, strutted quietly into the room, his dark green eyes scanning the perimeter. The middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair was adorned in finely tailored ebony dress robes with a high ivory collar, which suited his proper, professional demeanor quite nicely. He approached the altar and drew his wand with a slightly withered hand, waving it gracefully over the podium and conjuring a deep purple, silk sash. With a skilled, careful hand he covered the altar's surface with it. Next, he conjured twin black candles which looked as though they had been used many times, even if they hadn't been burnt completely. Old, hardened wax formed on the sides where hot wax had dripped down the sides of the candles during former ceremonies, and the candles themselves filled the air with a faint, archaic library-like scent. He flicked his wand over both of the candles in a ceremonial gesture, lighting them with a slowly burning flame. The minister stood behind the altar and opened an ancient-looking book on the podium.

Minister Beniot cleared his throat and glanced around, his posture rigid, ready to begin the service. He spoke in a rich baritone voice with a signifigantly heavy French accent, his voice projecting well through the room. "Is the band ready?"

Brennan took his spot at the front of the room and turned to face the crowd for a moment. Ah, they loved him. He turned back to the Minister from France. "Minister Beniot, it is good of you to be here today. I trust the press will cover your appearance favorably."

"Bonjour, Minister Cooper," Beniot said, bowing slightly. "A grand pleasure to be here today, of course. Very kind of you, sir." He smiled politely, glancing down quickly to assure himself the altar was set up properly. He adjusted the silk cloth, balancing it on either side. "You are looking marvelous, Minister. I congratulate you on zis fine, celebratory day," he said before looking out to the crowd for a second.

"Yes, well... as my brother says: It's about bloody time," Brennan said with a pleased smile. "Have you seen my bride before? She is truly the fairest in the land, and she'll make an excellent Lady of the Ministry," he tapped his fingers against his leg almost nervously. "Is my tie still straight?"

Bella waited near the center of the room, away from the minister, holding the two boxes containing the rings in her hands. The black dress Mr Esterre had made for her was -- perfect -- of course. Her red hair was swept up into an elegant bun, with a few strandes hanging loose around her face and her black heels made her look a lot more taller than she really was.

But her eyes were fixed on the bride's dressing room door, waiting for Reagan to tell her when Ms. Belle was ready.

The French minister smiled slightly at the comment, nodding. "I have indeed... you have chosen quite wisely. She'll make a spectacular Lady of ze Ministry, yes... ze best candidate for ze position, in my opinion." Best to stay on the safe side in that regard, after all. Beniot smiled reassuringly. "You look fabulous, minister. Everything is perfect."

As soon as Bella saw the door of the bride's dressing room open and noticed Ms. Belle standing at the door, Bella cued the band who started playing at once. She glanced at the rings safe in her hands and let out a sigh of relief. Phew. She stepped a little closer to the Minister, but still kept a great distance. There was no way any part of her was going to touch the man.

She then turned and watched the bride walk down the aisle. Ms. Belle looked absolutely stunning. Gorgeous. Perfecto. She tried to look past Ms. Belle, her eyes searching for Reagan. Where was she?

Reagan still had her wand in her hand as she followed Ms. Belle to the top of the aisle. With a quick flick of her wand, she levitated her bouquet with incredible speed well above the heads of the guests to an empty chair in the front row where she would have sat had she not been forced to serve as Maid of Honor/Train Carrier. There. She could pick that up as soon as Ms. Belle reached the Minister and not have to worry about carrying it down the aisle and carrying Clara's train.

Reagan saw Bella cue the band when Ms. Belle approached the doorway and thought angrily, 'Didn't I tell her to cue the band on MY cue? What if I wasn't ready to carry the train and Ms. Belle started walking, tripped over her train, and fell flat on her face? While entertaining, it would likely cost me my job! Oh, I'm most definitely going to need to speak with her on Monday.' Reagan tucked her wand into the back of her dress, where her hair would cover it and disguise its presence, then lifted Clara's train high above the purple carpeted floor. As the music began, Reagan watched the guests turn around to face the back of the aisle and see the bride enter. She waited for Ms. Belle to take her first steps toward becoming Mrs. Clara Cooper.

Brennan heard the music start, and he turned to look down the aisle to where he knew his beautiful bride would be waiting. And he wasn't disappointed. There she was at the furthest end of the aisle, a vision in white. Well... the aisle was nice and long to make room for everyone in the Ministry to sit, so actually she just looked like a white dress-shaped blob, but he knew she was beautiful. And his. He smiled broadly and stuck out his chest.

Clara's smile was unfaltering and bright as the sun. Through her gritted teeth, she whispered to Reagan, "Keep up with me, Miss Taylor, if you can." And so it began.

Clara walked down the aisle, taking special care not to look down at her Minister yet. She basked in the attention that all his and her devoted fans, friends, and family ( the ones that were invited - which was - well, none of them) were providing.

When she was just over half-way, and had enough of their attention, Clara looked to her Brenny. He took her breath away in the way that only he could. She loved it when he tried to look more important - as if he needed to! Pfff. He was the most handsome man alive, and wizarding world, he was Clara's.

Woe be to anyone thought differently.

The walk to the Bren was timeless, but she arrived. She took up his arm and gave him the most adoring look she had. He deserved it and more, and he'd get it now, everyday, for forever. And then she tried to hand off her bouquet... She snapped her head around quickly to see if her Maid of Honor was keeping up.

Brennan stroked Clara's arm gently as he took it and smiled at her. Yes, he was absolutely correct. A vision in white. This was probably the best wedding any of the little people in the room had ever been to, the most expensive and elaborate certainly, and it was fitting that the bride and groom were just a bit spectacular. No one in the world was a more beautiful bride than his Clara.

He turned and fixed the French Minister with a long look. Draw this out, he wanted to tell him. Make Clara the star as long as possible. But that was impossible. He'd just have to be sure there were plenty of people lined up to give toasts to them at the reception.

"Hello, Handsome," Clara whispered, all eyes for him. She dropped the bouquet on the floor so she could put both her hands on his arm. That girl would pick it up. "Isn't the turnout amazing?" Clara's little nose scrunched up. She was pleased. She was very pleased.

Minister Beniot stood straighter, his demeanor professional, as Clara came down the isle. With a deep breath, he began steadily and carefully in his strong French accent. "Dearest friends and family... well, dearest colleagues and ..." he faltered slightly. No, he wasn't making this any better, was he? He cleared his throat. "Hello. We gather here today to celebrate ze union of two faithful souls. Their decision to marry has not been entered into lightly and today zey publicly declare their private devotion to each other at long, long last. Ze essence of this commitment is ze acceptance of each other in entirety, as love, companion, and friend.

"A good and balanced relationship is one in which neither person is overpowered nor absorbed by ze other, one in which neither person is possessive of the other, one in which both give their love freely and without jealousy. Marriage itself, ideally, is a sharing of responsibilities, hopes, and dreams. It takes a very special effort to grow together, survive hard times, and be loving and ...unselfish. Particularly for some people." He smiled brightly at the couple.

"Do you, Minister Cooper, pledge to share your life openly with your bride, and to speak the truth in love? Do you promise to honor and tenderly care for her, cherish and encourage her. Do you promise to stand together through sorrows and joys, hardships and triumphs for all ze days of your lives?"

Reagan followed behind Ms. Belle at an appropriate distance to maximize the beauty of her gown and allow all the guests to see its impressiveness. She had no trouble keeping up, mainly because Clara walked so slow simply to glean as much attention as possible from the guests. When Clara reached the altar, Reagan laid the train out and carefully stepped around it to the side of the bride. Before she could get around to accept Clara's bouquet, the self-absorbed woman dropped in on the floor! Forcing herself to don a smile, Reagan crouched down as inconspiciously as possible when you're standing in front of hundreds of people and picked up the bouquet.

As the Minister of France began the ceremony, Reagan continually fought back a snort. This service could not be any less applicable to Ms. Belle - sefless and without jealousy? As if! If Clara had ever been selfless in her entire life, the entire Ministry would collapse! If you looked up the word 'selfish' in the dictionary, Clara's picture would be there, taking up the whole page, mainly because she's too selfish to share the page with any other words!!!!

Reagan continued wearing that forced smile, always keeping her attention on the bride and groom, lest Clara think she wasn't paying attention and berate her for looking disinterested. When did she become Clara's slave of honor?

Brennan really didn't appreciate any of that 'at long long last' stuff, and he wondered why that great idiot from France had even brought it up. He focused instead on what was next. The vows.

Turning to look at his bride, Brennan smiled at her cute little wrinkled nose, and the way her curls looked in the Atrium's golden light, and the look on her face... Merlin, what was the prat on about now? Did he promise to do WHAT? He tried to focus on the man's words, but he had such a thick accent too.

Did he promise to share his life with his bride? He already did. Clara was a part of everything in his life. Did he promise to speak the truth to her? Merlin, didn't this man know that no one knew what the truth WAS until Clara spoke it? Obviously. Did he promise to honor and care for her? Was anyone in doubt that Brennan had been caring for and honoring and encouraging and loving Clara Belle since they were both 17 years old, over 30 years ago? What sort of malarkey was this? Where were the questions about seeking wealthy and power together all the days of their life? Where were the questions about supporting each other's ambitions? Those were the GOOD questions.

Oh, bugger all. "I do," he snapped his fingers at That Girl to get his ring for Clara.

Bella opened the box with Ms. Belle's ring when the French Minister started to speak. She watched as the Minister said 'I do' and snapped his fingers towards her. Hmph. There was no need to be so -- nevermind. He was the groom and the minister. She had been his assistant for about four months now and he didn't even know her name. Bella rolled her eyes and handed -- no dropped would be a better word -- dropped the ring in the Minister's hand. But she had closed the distance of the fall so that it wouldn't end up on the floor. (She had orders from Reagan -- do not touch the Minister in any way.)

If the ring had ended up on the floor -- she'd be fired on the spot. That would be embarressing and highly inconvenient.

Minister Beniot bowed his head once in recongnition to the Minister Cooper, his old, frail hands coming to rest upon the edges of the altar. He turned his attention to Clara. "And do you, Clara Belle, pledge to share your life openly with your groom, and to speak ze truth in love? Do you promise to honor and tenderly care for him, cherish and encourage him, stand together through sorrows and joys, hardships and triumphs for all ze days of your lives?"

Clara had no idea what the man was saying. She could only hope that what's her face secretary girl had someone writing this all down for her to review later. For now... she was all eyes for Bren. She could see him thinking and not listening either. She tried to guess what it was he could possibly be lost in thought about...

... obviously, it was her. But what specifically? The lack of doves? Or how she wasn't wearing her usual glasses? It was probably just how gorgeous she looked, Clara was decided. Or maybe he was on about their surprise honeymoon...

She melted into a little puddle when Bren said 'I do' and put the ring on her finger. It was in that moment that all of Clara's dreams came true. In just a few short moments, she'd be Mrs. Clara Cooper, the First (and only) Lady.

Clara mimicked Bren, though obviously not on purpose when it was her to bind herself to him with a ring. She stuck her hand out , snapped, and held her palm up for the ring. Her eyes never left her Bren though. After she had the ring secure on her Brenny's hand, and their fates sealed, Clara said, "I do. And so much more." Her nose wrinkled up to keep her happy tears from falling.

Minister Beniot nodded, turning his attention to Minister Cooper again. So far, things were going smoothly. Thank Merlin. "Do you, Minister Cooper, pledge to share your love and ze joys of your marriage with all those around you, so that they may learn from your love and be encouraged to grow in their own lives?" His wrinkled fingers silently found the podium's edge and began to tap absentmindedy -- not out of impatience, but merely out of anxiousness.

"I already said I do," Brennan snapped, losing sight of his precious Clara as he turned to glare at the French imbecile. "I do. I do I do I do do do. There. We're all done with 20 questions. Get to the good part, please."

"Isn't he darling?" Clara whispered, her eyes still all for him. "I would not push his patience today. So - I do, too. I love him and I always will and I think we're ready for you to announce us." Clara was almost already puckered for that kiss. Almost. She was a tad more patient than Brenny.

Luc merely raised an eyebrow at Minister Cooper, laughing inwardly but merely smiling at Brennan on the exterior, as if to say, 'I am only doing my job, Minister.' He was about to ask Clara the same, before Clara herself spoke.

He had to stifle a bit of laughter once more. Such a patient couple. They were perfect together, really. He nodded. "Very well." The minister drew his wand and passed it ceremoniously over each candle's flame. Each fire flared and grew, rapidly taking shape of a finely detailed phoenix. The phoenixes spread their firey wings and soared above the couple, releasing two pure, beautiful cries before being engulfed in flames themselves and disintegrating into thin air, leaving only a deep purple smoke ring in shape of a heart above them. They were almost like... extremely fancy Wizarding fireworks.

"A gift from ze French Ministry to you. Phoenixes are a symbol of ze eternal flame of love, which cannot perish, but will only be reborn in your hearts again and again over time," he said, smiling. "Now you will feel no rain, for each of you will be shelter to ze other. Now you will feel no cold, for each of you will be warmth to ze other. Now you will feel no loneliness, for each of you will be companion to ze other. Now you are two persons, but there is only one life before you. Go now in peace and live in love, sharing ze most...precious... gifts you have--the gifts of your lives. And may your days be long on this earth. I now pronounce you husband and wife. Minister Cooper, you may kiss ze bride."

"We really should have asked for a less chatty Minister," Brennan informed his new bride as he put one arm around her to draw her close. He lifted her veil and was taken once again by how very perfect she was. Beautiful. After stroking the side of her face, he kissed her with gusto.

Clara was just about to tell Miss Taylor off for the awful, awful clashing of colors that the Phoenixes made with her Twilight themed wedding. Red and twilight colors did NOT go and would NOT be tolerated! But, then they made a purple smoke, so she was appeased. Miss Taylor was saved by the smoke.


... And by the five simple words of, you may kiss ze bride. Clara glued herself to the front of her BrenBren and kissed him like life itself depended on it. She had to be sure her photographer got a good shot for the front page of the Prophet. The kiss bordered on getting inappropriate though (for Clara's part) and she let her lips ween away from his.

Clara, still glued to him, turned them to face their loyal subjects and let them see her, First Lady, for the first time. Her smile clearly said, " I ate sunshine for breakfast." She was the happiest woman in all of the land.