Head Count
One.
The lines of benches set up in the garden of Malfoy Manor are adorned with white roses—a fact which Molly Weasley resents, as the sickly-sweet smell makes her stomach begin to turn. Pressing one palm firmly against her pregnant belly, she wraps her other hand around George's sticky fingers and leads him to the back row. "We are going to sit quietly," she says as she guides him into a seat, "and we are going to behave, and we are not going to do anything to ruin this wedding. Do you understand me?"
With a grin too wicked for his two-year-old face, George nods.
The bench groans as Molly eases her body into a sitting position. Still holding her son's hand, she heaves a sigh and looks around for the rest of her family. Arthur is hovering by the bar with Fred hanging off one arm and Charlie close by. Bill is near the patio talking with a boy his age—a Parkinson, Molly thinks—and Percy is sulking near the marble fountain.
She does a head count. All six—seven, if she counts Ron, who is kicking furiously in her womb—accounted for.
Molly exhales slowly and prays this won't end in disaster.
Two.
Arthur lowers his gaze as Archibald Selwyn glides past, Dark Mark in full view on his arm, and wonders for the thousandth time what they're doing here.
"We have to go," Molly had said six months ago when the invitation had arrived in the mail. "They were kind enough to invite us."
"They had to invite us," he had said. "We're Purebloods. They've probably invited every family in the Sacred Twenty-Eight."
"Well, whether it's a formality or not, we're going."
"Molly. It's Lucius Malfoy."
"I think it's time you two buried the hatchet."
"And you think bringing the boys to his wedding is the way to do that?"
"Yes, Arthur, I do."
And now here he is, surrounded by people who despise him while his nine-months-pregnant wife tries not to vomit from the scent of roses.
"Fred," he says as his son drops to his knees and begins to dig in the dirt. "Stop that, son."
"No!"
"Yes." Arthur scoops Fred into his arms and carries him over to Molly. "Can you—"
"Don't you dare bring him over here, Arthur Weasley," Molly says as she fans herself with one hand. "I can't keep track of both of them. I've got my hands full with this one." She tilts her head toward George, who has removed both shoes and part of one sock.
"I knew we shouldn't have come." Arthur looks over his shoulder. "Did you see how Lucius looked at us when we walked in? As if he didn't think we were really going to come?"
"We're here now," Molly says. "Just make the best of it." She looks around quickly. "One, two, three, four, five, six . . . six . . . where's Charlie run off to?"
Three.
Charlie is lost in a hedge maze.
He hadn't meant to come over here, but when Dad had stomped off with Fred, Charlie had simply wandered away. He does that sometimes. People call him absent-minded, but Charlie doesn't think his mind is absent; if anything, it's overflowing with thoughts, which explains why he loses track of himself sometimes.
"Dad?" Charlie calls, but nobody answers. He can still hear the sounds of the wedding party, and he isn't scared—not really—but he knows Malfoy Manor is filled with Death Eaters, and anyone with any sense would be nervous to be alone around that kind of person.
"Dad?"
There's a rustling in one of the hedges, and when Charlie whips his head around he sees a small blue creature perched on a leaf. "Hullo," he says, kneeling so the creature is at eye-level. "What're you?"
The creature blinks its reptilian eyes and says nothing.
"You're like a small dragon," he says, holding out a finger to touch the creature's scaly hide. "No, probably not," he says, laughing quietly at himself. "I wish. You're only a lizard."
The lizard doesn't move.
"But then again," he says, "I've never seen a lizard that's blue. So maybe you're a dragon, after all. A very small one." He grins. "A baby. But you'll grow up to be frightfully large, won't you?"
The lizard that Charlie wants so badly to believe in twitches its tail.
"I'll take you home," Charlie says, excitement in his eyes, "and I'll let you sleep in my sock drawer, and I'll—"
But then, so fast Charlie barely registers it, a long, sharp beak pokes out of the hedge and closes around the lizard.
"No!" Charlie cries.
The beak freezes at his voice, and then the bushes begin to rustle.
A creature the size of Charlie himself steps out from the walls of the maze. Blue and green, with a feathery hide and a thin, flexible neck, it looks at the boy while the boy looks back, each of them an unexpected visitor in the other's territory.
Then the creature's eyes narrow menacingly, and Charlie screams and bolts for where he thinks the exit might be.
Four.
Percy just wants to go home.
He hates his suit.
He hates being outside.
He hates that Mum wouldn't let him bring a book.
His glasses are digging into his nose, so Percy takes them off and closes his eyes and wishes the wedding would hurry up and be over.
Five.
Bill is trying to convince Carter Parkinson that they're too young for girls.
"Really, mate," he says as Carter stares across the garden at twelve-year-old Alexandra Shacklebolt. "We're only eight. We could never get a girl like her."
"You couldn't, you mean," says Carter. "I could get any girl I want."
Bill rolls his eyes. "No, you couldn't."
Carter extends a hand. "You want to bet?"
Bill, who hasn't got anything to bet with, nods. "Name the terms."
"If I can get Alexandra Shacklebolt to kiss me by the end of this wedding, you owe me a Galleon."
Bill snorts. "Fine." He shakes Carter's hand.
Jaw set, Carter marches across the lawn. Bill watches him reach up to tap Alexandra on the shoulder—she's a head taller than he is—and start to chat with her.
He sighs and shakes his head, grinning. That Galleon is as good as his.
Six.
Fred has no idea what a wedding is, but he's been told there will be cake, and he has a feeling he's been lied to.
"Not until after the ceremony," Dad keeps saying, but Fred wants it now.
"I see it," he says, pointing to the table over in the garden where the elegant pastry is posed on a rose-adorned table. "I can have?"
"Not yet."
"Now!"
"It'll start soon, Fred," Mum says weakly as she takes big breaths through her mouth. "As soon as the bride is ready."
Fred sighs heavily. "Is she ready now?" Everyone ignores him.
Fred narrows his eyes. He doesn't like being ignored.
Seven.
George sits quietly, just like his mummy told him, and watches it all fall apart.
He sees Charlie come bolting out of the hedge maze, screaming at the top of his lungs with a terrible monster—"Is that a peacock?" Daddy asks—hot on his heels. He darts between guests while the peacock pursues, bowling over Carter Parkinson and Alexandra Shacklebolt (George sees Bill double over with laughter). The peacock knocks into Percy, who goes careening into the marble fountain, and then follows Charlie in a zig-zag pattern until they reach the wedding cake.
"Charlie, no!" yells their mother as Charlie dives under the table.
CRASH.
The peacock collides with the cake, knocking it to the ground.
"Cake!" screams Fred, wrenching his hand out of their father's and making a beeline for the frosting-covered patio.
"Boys!" Mum yells, and then: "Oh, no." She lets go of George's hand to grab her belly. "Arthur, I—my water broke!"
"Your—" Dad is still looking at the mess Charlie has caused. "The baby's coming?"
"Yes, I—I think it's time."
Dad's face breaks into a smile. "So we're going to have to leave the wedding, then?"
"Don't look so smug," Mum says, but George thinks she looks relieved. "Gather the boys. I'll tell Lucius we're leaving. Come on, George."
George stands up and follows his mother, grinning wickedly at the mayhem and hoping that next time he'll get to help cause it.
Big Sis & Li'l Sis Competition, Round One
Big Sis Prompts: Character: George Weasley / Word: believe / Phrase: 'I wish' / Plot Device: an unexpected visitor / Action: holding hands