from the front row, beaming She looks beautiful, doesn't she, Lucius?

quietly, a rare smile She does. Though I suspect our son is about to need medical attention.

leaning in, barely above a whisper You look like you're about to face the Dementor's kiss, not a wedding.

through gritted teeth Shut up, Cassius.

I'm just saying. Most grooms smile at least once. You look like you're calculating the fastest way to escape your own reception.

I'm calculating the fastest way to make you disappear.

quietly, for her ears only You're late.