author's note: what doesn't belong to JKR belongs to me, and vice versa.
Chapter Two
"Pish, Pash, Posh, and a Long-Awaited Wedding"
Or
"Mama Told Me Not To Waste My Life"
"And there's been an appearance by Montrose Magpies Chaser James Potter!" said the Witch Weekly reporter to her Quick-Quotes Quill. James, who had – upon Apparating – stumbled almost directly into an interview, managed a nervous smile. "I didn't know you were a fan of the rural league, James."
"Oh, yeah," he said absently, eyes inspecting the press area, a top box overlooking the pitch. "Love teams from the West Country. Uh, you haven't seen the Prophet correspondent, have you?"
The witch's eyes, heavy with bright purple make-up and magically lengthened lashes, lit up. Her red-painted mouth split into a big smile. "Miss Gilbert?"
James didn't want to confirm this, as he could see the Quick-Quotes Quill poised to strike. With great apprehension, he nodded.
"So you two are still in touch?"
"We're friends," he said succinctly, back to scanning the room.
"You're – "
" – Not going to run that, are you, Winifred?"
Both James and the Witch Weekly reporter stopped dead. They turned in the direction of the voice – Cordelia Gilbert's – and found the tall journalist, a penguin blue Quick-Quotes Quill in her hand, paused halfway down a roll of parchment. James had rarely seen her working, but it was similar to watching her play Quidditch; her hair was tied, her face focused. She had her eyes on the Witch Weekly parchment, and did not seem pleased by what she found there.
"I'm just trying to do a feature on rural Quidditch leagues for those ladies who are interested," said Winifred the reporter.
"And apparently those ladies are also interested in James's sculpted jawline and how it clenched at the mention of me? How he sounded 'wounded' when he said we were friends, and only friends?" Cordelia rolled her eyes. "Circe Above, I'm hoping you're not serious about that."
James felt himself going red and willed both of the witches in front of him not to notice.
"We have to spice things up a bit, Cordelia."
"By lacing everything with literal fabrications, I see – please don't say I'm being protective over my 'old flame' and displaying a delicate disposition."
Winifred's Quick-Quotes Quill skidded to a halt and Cordelia's waved at the end like an antsy rattlesnake.
"You're going to miss the results of the match," Winifred pointed out.
Cordelia smiled. "My quill's Charmed to pick up any changes in score, which is why it's Quick-Quotes. I fear the intentions of yours are not so athletic."
Winifred skulked off, leaving James and Cordelia together. He looked at her with raised eyebrows. "You're a stone cold reporter, Poppins. I was afraid for that witch's life."
Cordelia laughed. "Please, you've got to be assertive in this game – Quidditch and journalism. Weren't you bothered by what she was saying?"
"I wasn't paying enough attention, to be honest."
"Distracted by the game?"
"Looking for you, actually."
"Oh?"
James raised his arms in mock surrender. "Just a friendly gesture – no romantic intentions, no surprise kisses. I remember you liking red velvet," he improvised, "so I thought I'd tell you about this new café up the top of Diagon Alley that does it really well."
Cordelia smiled. "Philomena's?"
"How'd you know?"
She shrugged. "I like red velvet."
James' hand moved to his then-rumpled hair, then it trailed down the back of his neck. "So – uh – you've been there, then."
"Yep."
"Nothing new?"
Cordelia shook her head, somewhat curious. "Nope…?"
"Cool," said James after a few seconds. "Are you – uh – going to Fred and Barbara's wedding?"
Cordelia looked puzzled. "Yeah?"
At this moment, it became quite obvious that things were not going the way James had planned them to. However, he had never been one to let on any kind of surprise or setback in social situations. He momentarily regrouped.
"Not bringing a burly Scotsman as your date, are you? Because if you are then that might seriously dampen the prospect of the two of us accidentally bumping into each other in pursuit of champagne."
"I don't think that would be too much of a disappointment," said Cordelia, "considering what happened last time you and I attended a wedding at the Burrow."
The smile faded from James's face. "How are you, these days? With all that stuff?"
Cordelia noticed his sober tone, and replied, "It's been three years since the thing you're thinking about and two years since the thing no one can forget." Her eyes left James and focused on the game, in which the two Seekers were spiraling through the goalposts at the opposite end of the pitch. "I miss all of them very much," she admitted, smiling. "I think about them all the time."
"Adrian Bell?"
The Seeker of the home team had just caught the Snitch and Cordelia's Quick-Quotes Quill went berserk.
"Let's just say he's the reason I can see Thestrals."
James's eyes widened. "Holy – " He breathed out the words. "Cordelia, I had no idea that he – that you were actually…"
"'You're a sweet girl, Cordelia,'" she said bitterly. Turning to James, she explained, "Adrian Bell was twenty-four years old and struggling for breath and dying on the floor of the Entrance Hall and the only person there to help him was a silly seventeen-year-old girl." Her face had hardened. There was no smile now, and it scared him. "My name was the last thing he ever said."
James didn't know what to say to her, but Cordelia did not seem to need a response. In a few seconds, she composed herself and focused on the parchment that her Quick-Quotes Quill had very nearly filled. The game was over, and other reporters were beginning to Disapparate.
"But there's nothing anyone can do about that now," Cordelia told James in a voice that seemed falsely chipper. "The least we can all do is move on and be happy in the world that was left for us. I came here to do a job – for your mum, in fact – and now I've done that. I need to get back to the Prophet office and turn these notes into something coherent."
James cracked a smile. "That's good of you. No burly Scotsman, then?"
Cordelia made a disparaging noise. "No, James – honestly. Don't you think, as the best man, you've got more to do for the wedding than ask if I've got a date?"
"Well, yeah, but I reckon you're pretty important, Poppins."
The entire Tennant-Weasley Wedding was beautiful; it managed to be lavish and intimate at the same time, and there was lots of smiling done by lots of people. Roxanne was a bridesmaid, as was Cordelia, and one of Barbara's older Muggle cousins, a pretty Asian girl named Jiao. Molly the Younger was the maid of honour.
Fred had James and Felix as groomsmen, because James was his best friend and Felix made him look tall. They were very much in love, Barbara and Fred, and the ceremony could not have been any more perfectly suited.
About halfway through the reception, while Fred and Barbara were going around the room and speaking to everyone under the sun, James pulled his cousin Dominique onto the dance floor.
"You do know the two of us are going to decapitate anyone within a five foot radius if we end up actually dancing," she reminded him.
James grinned. "Oh, I'm counting on that. With our incomparable good looks and enviable dance moves, none of Barbara's co-workers will try to chat me up."
Dominique raised her eyebrows at him and began to dance as freely as her dress would allow. "So basically we're just busting a move so no one else can?"
"Love you, Dom," James reassured her.
A fast-paced song began to play, courtesy of the wedding band – which was actually Elena Finnigan's – and James and Dominique sped up their dancing to match it. Over on the other side of the room, Andy and Albus stood with Louis and Tabitha Perkins, discussing Andy's success in the Muggle world and Louis and Tabitha's joined fascination with magical animals.
"It's absolute insanity," said Albus proudly, one arm around Andy's waist. "Sennen's up in Bristol now manning the fort with some Irish Lucy who isn't our cousin," he added to Louis.
Tabitha, who was inspecting the dance floor with a half-full champagne flute in her hand, smiled. "How is Lucy?"
"Head Girl," said Albus, as though that summarized everything. "It's all a bit mad come seventh year, though, isn't it?"
"It's a web of turmoil," Andy quipped. "Wait – was that insensitive?"
"Probably," her boyfriend replied. "Do you want to dance? I'm sure there's somewhere we won't be killed by James and Dom."
They went off and joined the other couples dancing, while Tabitha and Louis continued their discussion of Romania and its dragon colonies.
"You've got to see Uncle Charlie at some point – he's probably under some table singing Odo the Hero by now!"
Louis pulled Tabitha along by the hand, past Rose and her boyfriend Will Bowen, past Roxanne and her boyfriend Chris Wood (who were playing footsie under the table while arguing about the upcoming Puddlemere vs. Holyhead game in which they were both playing), away from the dance floor and over to where he guessed his uncle was, at the table behind two of his aunts.
Angelina Weasley kissed her sister-in-law on the cheek and stood up from where she had been quite comfortably sitting for most of the reception. "I should probably go and make the social rounds – mother of the groom and all that. Merlin knows what George'll do if I leave him alone with the Changs, or those poor Muggles by the house."
Ginny laughed. "Just go and talk to Cho about how beautiful her girl looks. That's always a safe route."
"Then why've you not taken it?" Angelina laughed. The section of her dark hair that was not in tight braids swished around her shoulders.
Ginny rolled her eyes. "I'm not sure how much she'd like her ex-boyfriend's wife striking up conversation at her daughter's wedding. I'd prefer not to think of my sixteen-year-old self facing mountains of grief on Lily's special day, just personally."
Angelina considered that Ginny very well could have been referring to herself instead of Cho Tennant, but she didn't pursue the topic. She extracted a champagne flute from an icebox as it hovered past their table, and went to join the Chang-Tennants, a cluster of whom Teddy Lupin and his son were already entertaining.
A little across the way, Teddy's wife had just hurried up to her new cousin-in-law and exclaimed, "Oh, Barbs, you look gorgeous!"
The bride blushed. "Thank you," she said initially, and then added, "sorry I haven't spoken to you sooner – everyone's been wanting a chat. Thanks for doing all of this... and with your baby on the way, too, Victoire – speaking of – where's the lovely little guy now?"
Victoire smiled. "Teddy's got him. He's having a bit of a play with the fact that he's" – by he, – "slightly metamorphic." She laughed. "I think he likes being ginger, though. Teddy's always done the 'blue' thing."
"Oh, but you've always loved the blue thing, haven't you?"
Teddy ran up to them then, having left Barbara's side of the family; he held his son tightly, and the baby's hair was bright red, while his father's remained the usual turquoise. He sandwiched Victoire between the two of them and said to Barbara loudly, "look, Barbs, we're the primary colours!"
Scorpius decided, with a groan, that he should not have left the balcony doors open. They were floor-to-ceiling glass, with intermittent wooden lines running in amongst them, separated from the penthouse balcony itself by a layer of translucent silk curtains. These curtains were now flapping open in the wind, letting rain in onto the floor of the spacious living room from where it splattered on the tiles outside. Albus, who was sprawled out on the couch, watched as his friend shut the doors and calmed the curtains with one flick of his wrist. Scorpius collapsed onto the comfy armchair he'd stolen from his parents' house, shirtless and understandably lethargic.
"I'm too lazy for Pepper-Up Potions," he yawned.
"Pity," said Al, "Lily's very good at them."
"Oh – is she? I had no idea such thoroughbred Gryffindors had any talent at such a Slytherin art."
Al rolled his eyes. "We're all flesh underneath, red tie or green one. Lily's the best at potion-making," he mused, "and I'm best with spells, probably. James would be good at everything besides sports if he wasn't so lazy." Al chuckled. "Actually, I take that back – he's rubbish with runes."
Scorpius smirked. "Good to know Wonder Boy's bad at something. You know, beyond choosing girlfriends who aren't Cordelia." Ignoring the expression on his friend's face, Scorpius jumped up from his seat. "D'you want a drink or something? I should've offered earlier – you're welcome to the cupboards – anything you like?"
"Nah, mate, I'm fine. You should go back to bed, you look shattered."
"Night shifts, underground wizard pub near Blackfriar's."
Al gave a nonchalant shrug. "Nobody's got anything funny to say about a Malfoy tending bar at a sketchy pub?"
"It's not sketchy – it's elite, pretty much, if you don't pay attention to what Gilly Vane's trying to sell in the corner." Scorpius returned to his armchair, curling up in a manner almost catlike. "If anyone asks, I go for Greengrass. Wish I didn't hate both sides of my family, though." He seemed to be considering it in his head. "Has your brother still got that tapestry of my family tree on the wall at his place?"
"If he hasn't covered it with Quidditch posters, I'd say so. My parents blasted a whole lot of names off it after the war, though. Added a few back as well, like my dad's godfather."
Scorpius closed his eyes, sighing. "I'd much rather have been a Black."
"Oh?"
He half-smiled. "Dad used to make me learn the genealogy, just of the past few generations – he liked telling me which relatives he had that were actually decent, starting with my grandmother. From what I gather, her generation of Blacks were a good enough bunch – she was one of them, and all of the rest ended up doing something with themselves as far as he can tell."
"Besides Bellatrix, of course?"
"How do you know so much?"
Al laughed. "I was practically raised in that townhouse, mate; my dad did the same thing yours did."
"Guess the ties don't change much, then."
"Guess not."
Albus edged over on the couch, so to be closer to Scorpius, as though what he was about to say was being shared in the closest of confidences.
"You know," he said, "when I was eleven and going off to school for the first time, I was absolutely terrified of being put in your house."
"What – Malfoy Manor? Don't blame you, mate – "
" – no, you interrupting prat – Slytherin. James kept riling me up, telling me what I would be put there for all sorts of reasons, like my middle name and who I wanted to meet at those awful dos that Slughorn planned, and I was just absolutely off my head about it."
Scorpius raised an eyebrow, opening his again-closed eyes to do so. "Really?"
"Well, not crying or anything, but you know how people let things eat them up inside."
Scorpius nodded.
"Anyway – my dad told me that it didn't matter where I got put, that there were no prejudices that really mattered, and wherever I went, I'd be excellent." Al wondered if he sounded at all wistful. He hadn't intended the story to be even this longwinded. "This has only come back to me because I'm just thinking – so many of my best friends were in Slytherin. My uncle Ron even pointed you out at one point, to Rose of all people. Would things really have been so bad if I'd been put in a dormitory with you for seven years?"
"I don't know, mate, I think I would've got sick of having to stay up every night listening to you philosophize about things like this."
Scorpius laughed at him, and Albus scowled.
"You know, you're a really good friend, you are. I come here because you're lonely without your girlfriend and we go from my sister to Grimmauld Place to something I've never told anyone, and now you're taking the piss."
Scorpius continued laughing. "In all fairness, Al, that is kind of my life motto."
"What – 'find out personal stuff and then take the piss'?"
"Yeah, more or less."
Al glared at him. "Maybe Uncle Ron was right."
"Nah, don't trust a ginger."
"Oi! That's my uncle!"
"It's also your sister and your mum and your cousins," Scorpius added, "and I've kissed at least one of those."
"You're not improving your case."
He chuckled. "I know, but I'm having fun doing it."
At the end of October, when Barbara and Fred had long returned from their honeymoon and Lily had pioneered a Quidditch match that ended in tears from the Slytherin Quidditch team, Patricia Day had returned from her Tumbleweed tour. She now sat in the middle of the empty Leaky Cauldron, with her boyfriend on one side, and Albus and Sennen on the other.
"What's Andy up to, then?" she asked of the latter two. "I was under the impression we were all supposed to hang out when I got back."
Sennen sipped her lemonade and looked to Albus as though she expected him to respond. Beyond a shrug, he did not. Sennen straightened up and said, "She's just a bit busy with work. There's a big catering thing we've been asked to do by the florist across the street, this Muggle named Alex, and Andy's taken a firm hand on that."
"But weren't you lot meant to be coming to the gig? I got you two tickets, Al!"
The gig in question was Tumbleweed's performance at the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade, which had most of the young wizard community buzzing. It was going to be held on a weekend when the students from Hogwarts would be visiting, which Patricia had carefully orchestrated to make sure they maximized on attendance and profit. Lily had already written to Al about how interested everybody was, and he'd been hoping to go with Andy, but she'd complained – again – about the work she needed to do for this catering job.
"That's why Sennen's here," said Albus, pointing to the girl beside him.
"You've heard Tumbleweed's stuff?" Patricia asked her, bemused.
"Oh, yeah – I'm really keen on it, actually. That Harrison bloke's half Turner and half Morrissey, and I'm nearly infatuated."
Patricia and Scorpius exchanged a glance. "Morrissey?" Scorpius mouthed confusedly. (Sennen was Muggleborn; therefore her pop culture references were falling on deaf ears.)
"Anyway, I asked Sennen if she wanted to come since Andy didn't," Al was saying, "so those two tickets you've given me are being put to use."
"Awesome!" said Patricia, mentally counting off the tickets she knew had sold. "We've got a large Hogwarts taking – I sent about a hundred to Mitchell Gilbert and he's already asked for two more lots, because everyone's so into it."
"Is Cordelia going?" asked Scorpius, with a look towards Al.
"I don't know," said Patricia, "I've not asked again since I initially offered."
"She's just down the road," said Sennen. "I'm sure you could ask her once everything's finished up here." Al glanced at her, looking inquisitive. "We like the same Muggle music," Sennen explained. "She'd be into Tumbleweed and I'd definitely prefer having her around to not."
Patricia considered it. "Well, we'll see. I don't know if there's a match that day or – "
" – I'll ask James – " Albus put in.
" – She mightn't be put on it, either way. I've not seen much of Cordelia in a while," Scorpius said ruefully. "It'd be good to catch up."
Patricia nodded, her expression wistful. "She's been busy, that girl."
Al smirked. "And you haven't?"
"That's different," she replied with a grin, casting a cursory glance to the watch on her left wrist. "Oh!" Patricia suddenly jumped, as though she had been pinched. "My shift at Flourish and Blott's starts in five minutes – Terry's going to kill me!"
She quickly pressed a kiss to Scorpius's cheek and shuffled past Sennen and Albus on her way out of the pub. Scorpius looked at the vacant space beside him, then slid over so he was beside Sennen. Al leaned forward on the table to address him better. "Why is it we always seem to find ourselves this way?"
"What way's that?" Sennen asked, looking down at Albus, who was now partially right in front of her.
Scorpius laughed. "Every time we come to the Leaky Cauldron, our girlfriends end up leaving – and it's one other person, like you and Lily, for example, who stick around."
Sennen looked affronted. "Well it's not as though I've got much of a choice, sandwiched between the two of you!"
Al patted her friendlily on the arm. "Scorpius didn't mean for that to sound as clumsy as it did," he reassured her with a fond look in the blond boy's direction. "He's only good with words when he's weaseling his way out of trouble or trying to change the world."
Hugo pushed his way past a gang of third year girls and dodged a flying pumpkin. Lily stood in the middle of the Entrance Hall, nearly oblivious to the end-of-Halloween shenanigans surrounding her while she conversed with Gabbie Sterling. Worry passed through Hugo's chest, because Lily was laughing and Gabbie looked horrified and what if Lily had told something embarrassing about him?
Hugo sidled into place beside the two girls. He was so much taller than the both of them, who were nearly matched for height. Lily grinned at him. "Hey, Hugo. I was just telling Gabbie here about Poppy Coote's complete blunder in practice the other day."
His anxiety assuaged, Hugo found a smile. "When she hit Peakes in the face with her bat instead of the Bludger?"
Gabbie nodded, biting her lip in an obvious attempt to keep from laughing.
"I didn't actually know you two were friends," said Hugo.
"We're the two female Quidditch captains," Lily explained, swiveling close enough to Gabbie to put an arm around her. "We've got to stick together."
"And then crush each other come next term," Gabbie added with a giggle.
"Oh, of course – that goes without saying."
Hugo glanced from Gabbie to Lily, the latter of whom had a curious look on her face. He quirked an eyebrow at her and she shrugged infinitesimally. He'd grown wary of that look and that shrug and all of a sudden Hugo felt he was treading on very thin ice after all.
"We'd better make sure we train up our Keeper, eh, Gabbie?" said Lily, casting glances from the Ravenclaw to her cousin. "You lot always manage to get a few past him."
Gabbie smirked. "That, we do," she replied, "but don't worry too much. I've already been informed by two of my Chasers that they're afraid of you – both of you." She laughed. "It's funny, actually. Jill Edgecombe's got a soft spot for this long-nosed idiot" – she pointed to Hugo – "and Mason Ashby's a bit star struck at the prospect of even being on the same pitch as a Potter and a Weasley." She rolled her eyes. "I worry about my team sometimes."
"I'd worry about your team all the time, if I were you," muttered Lily, and both girls laughed.
"Yeah, Ravenclaw's not what it was when we had Will and Cordelia."
"Mitchell's not too bad a Keeper, though, is he?" asked Hugo.
"No – he's really good," said Gabbie, "I was just hoping for a much more cohesive team than I ended up getting, I guess."
"Understandable." Lily inspected her shoes in a gesture of mourning.
Suddenly, there was a call of "Gabbie!" from across the hall, and a cluster of Ravenclaw sixth-years appeared. Gabbie turned around, waved to them, and then averted her attention. "You two don't mind, do you?"
"'Course not," said Lily, unwinding her arm from around Gabbie's shoulders.
"You going to be holed up in the library later?" Hugo asked quickly, before Gabbie could depart.
"Yeah," she said, "if you will."
Then she trotted off to join her friends. When they were all very far out of earshot, Lily turned to Hugo. "I like her," she said of Gabbie. "And so do you."
Hugo raised his eyebrows. "What are you talking about?"
"Well, I know you fancied her back in fifth year, but I wasn't sure if it'd carried on. Now I am, though."
"How do you know?" he asked desperately, hoping very much that it wasn't something Gabbie herself had noticed.
"Please," Lily groaned. "You look at her like you've just seen the Cannons beat Holyhead."
"Rubbish!" said Hugo. "I look at her the same way I've always looked at her!"
"Then you've obviously been looking infatuated with her for about three years, mate."
Hugo's ears had gone a deep shade of maroon and Lily laughed. He scowled at her. "You know, one day when you actually fancy someone, I am going to take the piss to such an extent that you will literally drown in it."
"Ew. Hugo."
"I didn't really think that one through."
"No, you didn't." Lily stuck her tongue out in disgust. "Let's forget that ever happened."
"Yes, please, let's."
