Welcome one and all to 'the experiment'!
Artyfan (a brilliant writer) and I (somewhat less brilliant) basically set this up to find out what would happen if two authors with completely different writing styles were given the same outline to work with.
This outline detailed a Rose/Scorpius wedding, just because. And it had twenty bullet points, each about a sentence long.
And I've unfortunately turned this into less of a description of a wedding, and more into a celebration of this insane family. I guess I felt the weird need to give practically everyone lines, or at least a detailed mention. So I'm not sure how that turned out...*sigh*
I missed the Valentines Day deadline by a lot, and for that I apologize. Props to artyfan for her extreme patience...and punctuality. I guess it just goes to show that things with deadlines aren't my forte. But to protect the integrity of this thing, I haven't actually read hers yet.
So anyways, happy reading! And please review!
And pretty-please-with-a-cherry-on-top don't review this without reading artyfan's story as well. (Attach this to the normal site url for hers: /s/7837185/1/Wedding)
NOTE: I realized that my procrastination was getting way too severe, so I'm going to publish what I have and make this a two-parter.
I have the first eleven bullet points in paragraph form as of now, and Chapter Two should have the remaining nine.
Apologies to artyfan, because I'm a horrible excuse for a writer as of now.
Ever since her Hogwarts days - the autumn of sixth year, to be exact - Rose Weasley had always been under the secret impression that Scorpius Malfoy looked his best while looking somewhat-but-not-too-windswept and leaning elegantly against a wall.
And now, at age twenty-five, she still held that opinion. (A less sensible girl would look at him soppily, and admit that he was infinitely more attractive when hair was a mess...and his limbs were tangled up in her two blue comforters...and the old Puddlemere United shirt that he had slept in was ripped conveniently down his left arm.) But she was a sensible girl, wasn't she? So she saw that now, he simply looked...disconsolate.
He had been miserable ever since that morning. Scorpius had woken up early (he could barely sleep due to panic) and spent a few minutes drowsily staring around the cramped and darkened room that had once belonged to Rose's uncle Percy. The mundane became rather comforting in his apprehension - Albus and Hugo breathing in syncopation, James thrashing about in his sleep while muttering something about spiders, Louis snoring softly, and Fred snoring...(well, 'loudly' would be an understatement). Then, suddenly, there was a shrieking wail downstairs. It was a wonder none of the others woke up.
Scorpius matched the screaming voices downstairs to Rose's parents. His family apparently wasn't there yet, for which he was devoutly thankful. If this was the current state of the Burrow, the Malfoys wouldn't exactly help matters with their arrival.
"Hermione, it's going to be fine. Trust me."
"I trusted you once today, and you turned the tables into matchsticks! I swear - "
"That wasn't even me; that was George trying to - "
"Excuses, excuses! I don't care. Now my daughter's getting married, and - "
"Hermione, she's my daughter too!"
"Well, you don't seem to be bothered by that, or the stupid flowers - "
(At this point, Albus blinked lazily while Hugo rose with a start. "Oh hell, they're at it again, aren't they?")
"Well, Hermione, you've really got your priorities right, haven't you? You realize that the main problem is that she's getting married to someone like - "
(Scorpius winced painfully.)
"But chrysanthemums aren't roses, you moronic buffoon! We didn't call her Chrysanthe - "
"Not like anyone else is going to noti - "
"And the food? Your mum can't do everyth - "
"Well, contrary to popular belief, my mum can - "
"And the wedding dress is too large around the shoulders; someone needs to magically alter it...oh, and there's that damn tent, and - " She interrupted herself with a shower of hysterical tears.
"Should someone go down?" asked Albus haltingly, back in the bedroom. "I mean, if she starts hexing him, he'll end up in St. Mungos', and that'll really put a...damper on things."
"Nah, don't bother," muttered Hugo. "The last time this happened, I walked in on him snogging her senseless. Honestly, I don't think they realize that they traumatize people."
Scorpius rolled his eyes. "You're all idiots." Then he sighed. "Wonder if Rose is up yet. I have some traumatizing to do." He said the last with a pointed glare.
Albus threw a pillow at him, just as a terribly loud crash was audible downstairs. That was what was needed to wake everyone else up.
"Oh, now we're in for it. My dad's probably dead now." Hugo rushed out of the room.
"What happened?" asked a disoriented James. "Was Uncle Ron taken by the spiders too?" He was greeted by gales of laughter, snapped out of his dream, and punched Albus to relieve his frustration.
"Ow!"
"Sorry...it's not like I have the authority to hit anybody else!"
Hugo came back with a groan, effectively stopping the scuffle. "That wasn't my Dad. It was yours."
"What, mine? Did his wedding present explode again?" asked Fred.
"'Course it's not Uncle George. He wouldn't have called me a 'miserable little ragamuffin off the scrap heap' and told me to fetch his son 'from the company of such rabble.'" Hugo did the air quotes to perfection while raising his voice in a passable imitation of an angry man with a head cold.
Scorpius swore under his breath. "Well, I guess they're doing just fine without me. Al, go down and cover for me, will you? I'll be...somewhere else. Anywhere else."
Which was why he immediately ran up a flight of stairs and across a hallway to the girls' room, kicked everyone else out through a stream of indignant insults, and bolted the door on himself and Rose.
He gaped at her with exasperation. "Wedding, my arse. This? This is an execution."
She responded sympathetically, "It's not that bad, Scor. We'll live through - "
Her speech was interrupted by what sounded like a mermish (or goblin, who could tell?) war cry emanating from downstairs.
He cursed, she gasped, and together they pushed a dresser against the door and plopped down on her bed.
"I told you so," said Scorpius, taking no pleasure in the fact.
"I still say we'll live through it."
"Speak for yourself, love," he sighed in utter dismay.
Astoria Malfoy was frightened out of her wits, and she hadn't even been in this damned house for five minutes. (If only they could have held the wedding at the Manor. If only.)
She shed a few tears on the doorstep, of course. Her only child was getting married; what else could she do? Draco handed her his (monogrammed) silk handkerchief and told her to keep it together in front of the 'weasel-idiots'. Astoria blew her nose and stepped over the threshold.
But precisely after they walked in and called for Scorpius, her husband (poor darling) knocked over a potted plant in the hallway. (It really was an accident, but it wasn't like any of that lot would believe him.)
Hermione awoke from her miserable stupor at the crash. "I don't suppose you could be anymore blatantly disrespectful, could you?"
Draco retaliated by raising his chin in defiance and kicking fallen dirt into Ron's eye.
The resulting chaos was unimaginably horrific. At its height, Draco had Ron in a painful headlock. (According to Astoria, that is. If you asked Hermione, she would claim the opposite with her characteristic death glare.)
By the end of it, Hermione herself had retreated to the kitchen to down three cups of strong coffee in quick succession. Astoria was also in the kitchen, attempting to stir a large pot of something; however, she then was hit with a broom by the Weasley matriarch, who was ever-fearful of sabotage.
And, to add to Astoria's worries, Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy had utterly vanished. She was half-sure they had disapparated, but simultaneously half-fearful that they were going set fire to the house.
In the midst of this, a loud and ghostly wail emanated from somewhere and permeated the entire house. The lights seemed to flicker (or was it just her imagination?) and the temperature dropped enough to give Astoria goosebumps.
Hermione Granger pulled out her Muggle cellular phone, a clunky outdated thing that Rose had threatened to throw away more than once.
After a hurried and whispered conversation, she pressed a button, waited for a beep, and stowed the thing back in the pocket of her jumper.
Hermione smiled conspiratorially at the wide-eyed Astoria. "That was my parents. You see, I changed my ringtone for today to a Mermish war cry. I thought it would be...fortifying." She said the last with an icy edge to her voice.
It took all of Astoria's self-control to not scream.
Fortunately, Astoria's in-laws were not about to become arsonists. Instead, they had simply retreated into the garden with identical urges to vomit under trees.
But Narcissa had merely filled her lungs with fresh air before stepping inside again to repose gingerly on the 'best' (as if) armchair in the sitting room. Yet contrary to popular belief, planning implausible scenarios (involving the spontaneous evaporation of her grandson's future bride) became rather tedious after a while.
While Narcissa wandered around the house with an upturned nose, Molly Weasley was in the kitchen furiously stirring a steaming pot. She hastily slammed a lid on it when it started emitting sparks.
"In over your head, I see," sneered Narcissa Malfoy from the doorway.
Molly didn't even need to turn her head to recognize the source of the self-satisfied drawl. But she turned anyway, just for the pleasure of seeing the juxtaposition of a sharpened butter knife and the face of her current nemesis.
But Narcissa Malfoy, the very woman who saved Harry Potter's life during the war, was unable to remain composed at the sight of a 'ghoulish madwoman' who happened to be 'brandishing a giant carving knife.' She let out an unfortunate noise that was neither a squeak nor a screech, and drew her wand.
(An owl belonging to either Fred or Roxanne - they never could agree on it - flew out of the spice cupboard and into the hall. From its owners, it had gained the ability to recognize the signs of catastrophe, and knew instinctively that the kitchen was not the place to be.)
Meanwhile, Lucius Malfoy and Arthur Weasley were dueling in the backyard. (Typical.)
If Lucius were to explain the circumstances behind it, he would have claimed staunchly that Arthur Weasley attempted to disarm him without provocation, and only his miraculous skill at the shield charm saved him.
If Arthur, on the other hand, were to retaliate, he would say that he was attempting to arrange the wedding presents, but was greatly incensed by Lucius Malfoy pantomiming vomiting under a tree. (And that he actually succeeded in disarming the idiot.)
After a few badly aimed spells, an Avada Kedavra that Lucius thought better of and turned into a cough, and a well-placed Levicorpus by Arthur, the Weasley patriarch ended up with the distinct upper hand.
"Let me down!" hissed Lucius in a very good impression of a boa constrictor.
"Never!" hissed Arthur in a slightly worse impression of a gopher snake. His wand was barely an inch away from Lucius' nose as he stepped back to survey his triumph.
But it was rather sad how a battle could be lost in a single instant. Lucius Malfoy's wand leapt from the ground to his hand, and he fired off three stunning spells in quick succession. (A great feat, considering that he was still hanging upside-down.)
Arthur dodged the first two, almost breaking his back in the process, and defected the third with a hasty Protego.
The two watched in horror as the first jets of red light narrowly missed the heaping pile of presents in the yard, and their eyes widened in pure unadulterated panic as the final spell smashed into Molly's towering masterpiece of wedding cake.
The resulting silence was heavy...possibly as weighty as the cake in its former glory.
Arthur managed to find his voice first. "I'm blaming you for this, Malfoy."
"Likewise, Weasley." Lucius hissed, yet again. (But a discerning observer would notice that constrictor imitation had lost its accuracy after that...fiasco.)
Albus Severus and Lily Luna Potter should have learned a very long time ago that eavesdropping was never a good idea, particularly in the absence of Extendable Ears. (But they were used to the process by now. Ever since they were very little, he'd always taken the keyhole while she lay flat with her ear to the space under the door.)
Regardless of the morality involved, if anyone had justification in a situation like this, it was the best man and the maid of honor. Besides, they would've eventually announced their presence to the couple, but they were interrupted by a cry.
"That was my toe!"
"Sorry, Rose darling, but you were the one who wanted to go downstairs."
"And you were the one who blocked the door with this awful thing. I wanted to use a chair, but no, now we need to shift the entire damn armoire - "
"Oh, that's what it's called? - ouch!"
"What now?"
"My knee...oh, hell. I think I'm dying."
"Let's just climb out the window. Come on. You jump first."
"But Rosie - "
"Don't call me that!"
"But I don't want to die, not today. And if we jump here, we'll mess up the lawn, and - "
"You're worried about the lawn? I'm marrying a flobberworm. I can't believe it."
"But it's very important to have a neat lawn - "
"You're a rotten, slimy, disgusting flobberworm, and if I die when I jump out the window, at least I'll be saved from a worse fate."
"Oh, shut it! Just - "
"I thought you found my sarcasm attractive."
"Of course - "
(Here, Al gagged, and Lily thumped him on the back to shut him up.)
"- but not when you're calling me a spineless toad!"
"I called you a flobberworm, but yes, that too, you spineless toad!"
"Rose, we're getting married! I don't know if it's hit you yet, but you need to display a certain level of maturity in situations like this! I mean, this so-called 'wedding' is already bad enough, and your attitude isn't helping!"
"My attitude? You're pathetic, you know! You think we're just two mannequins to be put on show, don't you?"
"I wouldn't have phrased it so damn dramatically, but yeah, that's pretty much it! I'm sorry to burst your idealistic little bubble, but we're catering to the guests here, and your infantile language and window-jumping isn't going to cut it!"
"And you're talking like this when you can't even move a - "
"Fine! That's it! If I can do anything at all, I can move this ridiculous armoire! I don't need any help from the likes of you - "
Albus and Lily heard the scrape of the dresser on the floor and felt the door move against them before fleeing the scene.
The two had joined the rest of the cousins downstairs by the time the couple arrived. Rose and Scorpius were looking rather out-of-sorts, and were blatantly avoiding each other's eyes.
"Where's Mum and Dad? Where's everyone?" said Rose anxiously.
Scorpius added with an air of accusation, "And what on earth are you lot doing?"
Hugo rushed up to his sister after putting down a quill. "Oh, you're here. I was frantic, I tell you. Mum's fixing your dress, I think. And Dad was lifting chairs last I saw him. And everyone else..."
"They're all outside," cut in Molly. "But Grandmum's in the kitchen. And Dad's being ridiculous and walking around with an umbrella saying something about rain." She and Lucy smiled fondly.
"And we're too scared to go outside, so we're just sitting here twiddling our thumbs," James finished. "Except I don't quite know how to twiddle. Does anybo - "
"Shut it!" scolded his long-suffering and heavily pregnant wife. "It's Rose's wedding, and if you can't at least - "
(He silenced her with a kiss, and both were lost to the world for a few subsequent minutes.)
"Actually," cut in Dominique with a patronizing glance at the lovebirds, "we're attempting to arrange the seating chart. I'd rather do something real, but apparently we're 'distractions' to the 'adults', and honestly - "
Scorpius looked down at her with a superior gaze, obviously inherited from his father. "Well, you are distractions, and it's probably for the best that you're in here. I mean, the fewer of you, the less...carnage." He leaned in curiously to see the piece of parchment on the coffee table, then let out a groan of despair. "You can't put Professor Flitwick next to my grandparents! I don't think anyone told them I was in Ravenclaw, and - "
"This stupid seating chart's the least of our worries, really." piped up Dominique's shrinking violet of a husband, in possibly the loudest voice he'd used all day.
He opened his mouth again, possibly having overcome his fear of being trampled every time he uttered a single word. However, he was met with Dominique throwing herself at him and slamming his head into the wall, where she proceeded to snog the living daylights out of him.
James momentarily lifted his head up for air and snorted. "Yeah, who's she to tell me off?"
Scorpius managed to find his voice again. "But the chart! Somebody needs to - "
"No! I don't care!" Rose yelled over him. "Shut up! This is my bloody wedding - "
"Ours!" said Scorpius, his voice raising dramatically. "Our wedding, and if it's not perfect - "
"Perfect!" She snorted. "What's perfect then, Malfoy? Something that your pathetic excuse for a family can talk about without fainting? Because if you can't live with us, I bloody well don't want to be stuck with you for life!"
"Well, Weasley, everyone thinks this is a mistake already, and everything you say is just proving the point!"
"A mistake? Well, if you're having second thoughts, you should've told me sooner! Because now, I - "
"Oi, you just - Weasley, what the hell - " The next thing he knew, she slapped him hard across the face and bolted back up the stairs.
Scorpius stood dumbfounded, and almost fell against the wall in shock. "Oh, damn. I've been an unmitigated idiot. All day, I - "
"I can't believe," groaned Louis from the corner of the room, "I actually gave you my approval."
"Now you've done it," said Albus in a strange mixture of horror, pity, and amusement. "I'll go after her."
"No, I'll do it! I'm a girl; the likes of you wouldn't understand." Lily began to float up the stairs before she was pulled back by a very rumpled and breathless Dominique.
"I'm actually married, let me go!"
"Well, so am I, and I could probably cheer her up better than you," interjected an equally rumpled James. He was met with scoffs.
"I'm her favorite!"
"No, I am!"
"You'll make things worse!"
"Well, you'll send her wailing to the attic!"
"Better she marry the ghoul than that bloody arse, right?"
The cousins descended into a stream of insults, yet eventually came to a tenuous agreement involving their plan of action.
Step One: Tie Scorpius Malfoy to a chair.
Step Two: In a single-file line, based on increasing age, go up to comfort Rose and convince her to remain a spinster for life.
However, by the end of this, they looked up to find that Scorpius had already vanished, and were thus forced to return to the compilation of the seating chart.
(But after a decent interval, Albus and Lily went up once more to listen at the door.)
Percy Weasley was walking back and forth along a row of chairs by a wall of the Burrow. Ginny Potter, his only and quite frankly least supportive sister, had gotten so sick of his grim predictions of rain that she had sent him to 'keep an eye out for guests, particularly the unwelcome ones.' She did, however, have to admit that he was being quite useful. So far, he'd been so utterly boring that he'd scared away Astoria's sister Daphne and her parents.
In one hand, Percy clutched an umbrella, and in the other a baby.
The umbrella was large, magenta, and belonged to his wife. (Granted, she had been using it as a sun parasol, which was incredibly ridiculous in Percy's point of view. According to the weather patterns, the cloud coverage over the past week, and his own infallible predictions based on his own equally infallible spell-casting, a downpour was imminent. There was simply no getting around that fact, no matter how bright it appeared now.)
The baby was small, mostly magenta, and belonged to Teddy and Victoire. (They had foisted the little Nymphlet on him when they found out he was the only person with a free arm. Oddly enough, she was the quietest child Percy had ever had the honor of holding, his own angelic daughters included in that category. She divided her time between sleeping and making tiny gurgling noises at his glasses.)
Suddenly, he heard a door slam incongruously loudly from high up inside the house. His head jerked up, so quickly that the reflex almost caused him to sprain his neck. And at that very moment, a droplet of water fell precisely on the tip of his nose.
After a few seconds of complete and utter shock, Percy shouted out a rather gleeful, "I told you so!"
And then the gravity of the situation struck him. He swore loudly and ran off towards the others through what had morphed from a light drizzle into a horrid downpour.
Nymphadora Lupin decided that then was the perfect time to begin wailing like a banshee.
"Where's the marquee? Where, in the name of - " yelled Hermione Weasley, spitting sopping strands of hair out of her mouth as she spoke.
"I've got it, calm down!" her husband cried just as he tripped over the laces of his worn-out trainers and fell spectacularly. (Harry would later compare it to a giraffe on wheels.) Hermione snatched back the neatly folded mountain of satiny purple fabric before it too met the ignominious fate of falling in a puddle.
"I'll take that," said Harry rather dourly, overcompensating in his attempt to suppress a grin. "It's all under control. Ginny and I'll set this thing up, and we've got Teddy and Vic if we need any extra wands."
"And - "
"And George dried the presents and only scorched two, so that's something, right?"
"But what about - "
"Tableclothes are dry."
"And - "
"I think you thrive on chaos, Hermione. It's seriously not as bad as you're making it out to be."
"Wait, I think you forgot - "
"No, I didn't. But you need to make yourself useful, you know," said Harry, who then had the audacity to laugh hysterically.
"You bloody hypocrite!"
"Impervius the chairs or something, I don't care. Just cheer up! It's a wedding!"
Ron hoisted himself up, wiped the mud from his cheek, and scowled. "Why's he looking so cheerful? It's a wedding." He shivered violently, only partially because of the rain.
(He couldn't even bring himself to smile when the downpour stopped five minutes later. Under the newly erected tent, bathed in heavy golden sunlight, he growled something of which the only intelligible phrases were 'weather' and 'mocking me.')
Arthur Weasley and Lucius Malfoy had vanished all traces of fallen cake, which, in retrospect, was an unbelievably stupid idea.
When Molly trotted out with a few extra sugared violets for the top of her confection but found it apparently nonexistent, she knew precisely who to blame. It's not as if she was a particularly brilliant sleuth, but based on the evidence, what other conclusion could she reach? (At the precise scene of the crime, her husband was staring at the sky while whistling abysmally, and that horrid man was shooting daggers with his eyes at a nearby Flutterby bush.)
"My cake?" she finally uttered, in a deathly quiet voice.
There was a pause, that appeared by all to last a few hours longer than it did in actuality.
Then two voices spoke simultaneously, "He did it."
Mount Vesuvius had nothing on Molly Weasley's subsequent eruption. (Ron, Percy, and George - all the way on the other side of the yard - had to hide under a tablecloth to save their ears.)
"I can't believe the nerve of you two!" she screamed.
"But he attacked me, and I was defending - " Arthur began.
"No! Our Rose is getting married, and to make up for her husband being a dishrag - "
"He's not a - "
"Shut it! I spent ages on this cake, and you just blast it to pieces with impunity? So now she becomes Mrs. Dishrag, and doesn't even get a cake for it!"
"Molly, if you'd...just...consider...not...taking this so persona... " Under her stern eye, Arthur quailed and trailed off.
"Both of you, inside. Inside!"
"What?"
"Go! I'm not having cake-wreckers on the loose; who knows what else you'd do! Honestly - "
Lucius stalked away with a huff, followed by Arthur. The latter literally scurried off, although he felt a strong urge to throw a temper tantrum. (It was the first time he'd ever been grounded, really.)
The cousins had finished the seating chart, and Molly and Lucy had fashioned place-cards for each guest in flowing purplish script. Yet obviously James and Fred took offense at the sickly shade of lilac, so naturally a magical pillow fight broke out in the sitting room.
"Take that, you miserable misbegotten...mangy...mongrel!" James hurled a sofa cushion in Molly's general direction, narrowly missing her head.
Lucy sprung to her defense. "Not so fast, you awful alliterative arse!" she yelled, too caught up in the moment to bother about her uncharacteristically foul language.
And at that precise moment, Arthur Weasley and Lucius Malfoy slouched into the room; both were seemingly unaware of the chaos brewing (quite literally) around their heads.
Hugo immediately began a rapid confession. "Damn it. Sorry 'bout that...accident...we'll clean up the feathers...wait a mo'. Grandad? Are you even listening to me?"
Judging by the fact that his grandfather sank into a squashy (albeit cushion-less) armchair near the fire without breaking malevolent eye-contact with Lucius, Hugo concluded that he was not in the least listening.
"I haven't seen him this angry since those spark plugs went - "
"Shh, Hugo!" whispered Roxanne through clenched teeth.
Louis found his voice next. "Just back away slowly...very slowly...and quietly...and slowly..." Then, while taking a step, he tangled his foot in the leg of a side table and brought a hideously old vase smashing to the ground.
"Quietly?" Fred snorted, dangerously near hysterical laughter.
"Sorry, it wasn't - "
"Yeah, never mind that now. Just run!"
In all honesty, they could have blown up the sitting room while dancing a jig, and they wouldn't have been regarded at all by either Arthur or Lucius, who had started spewing insults at each other with a frightful intensity.
"Idiot."
"Traitor!"
"Lunati - "
"Fit of the sulks, eh?" said James conversationally, popping his head back around the door a few seconds after the others had fled outside. "Cup of tea always helps with that, I've found. You really should...oh, never mind."
He walked off rather despondently. (Either fits of the sulks were contagious, or James Sirius Potter simply wasn't used to being ignored.)
Astoria Malfoy was, to put it bluntly, moping. It wasn't in the least dignified of her, but she felt completely and utterly useless in the current situation.
The mess was absolutely horrendous - the flowers were arranged in clumps of ridiculously riotous color, the tent appeared lumpy from at least one angle, and the tablecloths clashed awfully with the cutlery.
And in spite of it all, her assistance wasn't desired in the least. Her tears mingled with the remainder of the raindrops falling from the eaves of the house.
("Oh, stop," groaned Draco, obviously uncomfortable. "Even I can tell when you're faking it. And it's not like it's helping, anyways."
Astoria hiccuped angrily and dried her eyes with the back of her hand.)
Crocodile tears aside, this wedding needed some indication of her presence.
It really should have been half hers, by all rights. Yet her side of the family had mysteriously failed to show up early, her husband was showing an odd inclination towards hiding in corners when anybody passed by, and she felt as if under a constant Disillusionment Charm.
If she could only find Scorpius, she would seriously consider cancelling the wedding and sending him home immediately.
However, in the middle of this internal turmoil, Molly Weasley accidentally barreled into her, followed by her faithful retinue of Hermione and Ginny. (Draco, ever-elusive at the sight of Weasleys, had apparently vanished.)
"Oh, this is convenient!" said Molly rather cheerfully, considering everything.
Astoria stifled a mirthless laugh. "Pardon?"
"We need a cake, as fast as possible - "
"Honestly, the absence of a cake simply shows poor planning on your part..."
Mrs. Weasley gasped indignantly and marched off, while Hermione gripped her wand so tightly it almost broke in half.
Ginny sighed - her diplomacy skills were abysmal, but apparently she was the only one here who knew that diplomacy was actually a word. "Look, the cake got hit with a stunning spell, we don't have much time until the guests start arriving, our oven's full, and our only other option is Luna's dirigible plum cake and I'm very sure that's going to taste absolutely foul, and - "
"Well, I guess I could consider - "
"Okay, fine. If it'll help, I'm...sorry...I made Percy get rid of your sister...what was her name...Daphne? And your parents. I just thought they'd make things worse, seeing as - "
"You what? I can't believe it! You awful excuse for a - "
"Shut up!" came Draco's voice from around the corner. "I'm trying to picture myself in an empty black void, and you're not helping! Just shut up!"
"What do you suggest we do, oh wise and brilliant one from the void?" Hermione groaned, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
"Don't you dare talk to my husband like that! You're not fit to lick his boots - "
"Excuse me, but your precious husband should probably go back down to hell before I kick him halfway across - "
"Cupcakes!" cried Astoria, in an inspired (albeit badly-timed) burst of inspiration.
"Halfway across cupcakes?" asked Ginny. "I knew you were daft, but this is just - oh. That's brilliant, that is."
"Isn't it? Little ones with white icing, how about? And I can get them done in no time and stack them up...oh, that is brilliant."
She disapparated in a haze of possibilities; her relieved husband followed suit.
(Although nobody spoke, the words 'good riddance' seemed to hang in the air. Hermione and Ginny exchanged a secret smile before coughing hastily and staring at the lawn.)
(After sitting through ten minutes of a very one-sided conversation, Albus and Lily left the door. His face was cramping, and both her feet were asleep.)
"I'm sorry...really." said Scorpius for the fifth time. "I don't know what came over us. You think we could go down now?"
And for the fifth time, Rose responded by not responding.
"Snap out of it, will you! We need to talk this through or else - Rose?"
She turned her back to him and pressed her face against the window.
"Look, I'm sorry, I just wanted to make this perfect for - "
"For me?"
"Oh look at that, you remembered how to talk."
"But that's ridiculous. You did this all for you. Admit it, Scor."
Silence.
"Fine. I was trying to satisfy some...deep...psychological need to have everything orderly and tremendously cliched. Happy?"
"Maybe if you'd make your tone a bit less biting..."
"You're one to talk, Rose."
"And you're trying to apologize."
"I was? Sorry 'bout that, then."
She couldn't resist a half-smile at that, then came to herself and turned it into a cough.
"Well, Rose, you did set me up for that one. But in all seriousness - ugh, don't glare, I really am serious this time - I thought I was doing the right thing."
"I...know."
"Rose?"
"...Not now. Shush."
Scorpius bit his tongue, and looked at her despondently. She was his Rose, all fire and sparkling eyes and wit and brilliance, and here she was fighting back tears. Not that she would ever admit it. He watched her nervously finger the threadbare hem of her pale blue nightgown, and wondered what he could do to put her right. (Because it was all his fault. If he could accept anything as truth, it was that.)