Chapter Thirteen: Wedding
Story woke early on a particular morning in May and realized that it was important for two reasons. She woke early because she could hear frantic people running about the house, the nervous squeaking of the house-elves, and all sorts of goings on. She lay there for a moment, collecting resolve, and then she sat up and looked out the back window. She could see her father, wearing old clothes and looking harried, carefully directing the house-elves to set up chairs. A van had arrived bearing the legend "Millimant's Magic Marquees," and four wizards had exited the van and were approaching her father.
Someone rapped on her main door, and Story got up and padded through her playroom-parlor to open it.
It was Daphne. She was wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt and she had dark circles under her eyes. "Oh my God. Torrie, help me." She strode right in past Story and began walking in circles around the parlor. Her hands were reaching up and raking through her tangled golden-brown hair.
"Your bachelorette party with Blaise and Neil and the girls from work was the night before last, so this is definitely not you being tired from a night out," said Story. "Why haven't you slept?"
"Oh my God. Torrie. I'm getting married. I'm getting married." Her sister's voice cracked. "Oh, my God, I'm going to die. I'm going to die."
"You will not die," said Story firmly. "I'm the maid of honor, and the maid of honor does not let the bride die." She grabbed a corner of the carpet and pushed it back, then transfigured a few square feet of her floor to stone. She set her cauldron down there and lit a fire underneath, then filled it with water. "Sit down, Daphne. I'm making you a potion for nerves. You won't be really drugged up, but you won't be freaking out like you clearly are now-"
"I'm not freaking out. I'M NOT FREAKING OUT. Oh, my God, I'm freaking out." Daphne burst into tears and slumped into the rocking chair, sobbing. Story rather thought that that would have been her reaction, were she marrying Theodore Nott, but she suppressed that thought and focused on making the potion. It had been one that Blaise had made for her before the biggest photo shoots, the ones that were for the catalogue covers or the full-page Daily Prophet spreads. One handful of newt tails. Stir clockwise for one minute. Powder unicorn horn thoroughly; add to potion. Two handfuls of beetle pincers. One well-cracked snail shell. Stir once counter-clockwise, stir twice clockwise. Repeat with stirring until potion turns pale green. Remove from heat. Add grindylow whiskers and oregano to taste. Stir counter-clockwise for two minutes. Allow to sit for three minutes before consumption.
She looked at Daphne, who was still sobbing wildly as the potion cooled, letting off spirals of steam. The smell of oregano filled the air. "What are you worried about?" she said mildly. "Are you a virgin?"
"Not anymore," said Daphne, blushing wildly under the tears.
"...and that was far more than I wanted to know. I hope you used contraceptives- Mother would hate for you to have a baby only five months after the fact, it would look horrible in the gossip column." Story ladled potion into some of her empty phials and corked and labeled them with her wand. She could send the extras down to her parents and keep one, or possibly two or three, for herself. They would all need them. "And you love him, right?"
"Yes."
Story didn't let herself sigh at her sister, because that would have raised a lot of uncomfortable questions. "So really, it's just the ceremony that's got you on edge. And really, Daph, the only work you have to do at the wedding is look pretty, walk down the aisle, and say 'I do.' He has a lot more work than you do, and the wizard who's doing your vows has more work than both of you, and the rest of us have far more work than he does. Just think about the reception, where you can smile and hug everyone and get a lot of free stuff."
Daphne smiled and wiped her eyes. Story handed her a potion anyway. "Drink this. You may need another one in a few hours."
"Thank you," said Daphne. She opened the phial and downed it in one, then clambered down to the floor where Story sat to hug her. "I don't deserve such a good sister."
"Nonsense," said Story. "I don't deserve you." And neither does the son-of-a-bitch who's marrying you.
She took Daphne back to her room. There were three bridesmaids in total; two of them were friends from Daphne's waitressing job at The Crossed Wands and the other was Story. She was also the maid of honor. The other two girls shrieked and jumped up and down with Daphne.
"Oh, my God, you're getting married!"
"This is so exciting!"
"Eeeeeeeeeeee!"
Story smiled and laughed, but she couldn't bring herself to shriek or jump or giggle. She just wasn't that sort of person. Instead she got in the shower, dried herself off, and put on shorts and a tank top. She had her hair in a towel, so that it would be wet when she was done. And no sooner did she open the door to exit her room than she came face to face with the groom.
He closed his eyes, in a grimace.
"What do you want?" snapped Story.
"I'm trying not to look at you, and I'm assuming I have permission to speak if you asked me a question, and I just had a rather important question for you. Are you revising the rules of our... arrangement, since I'm going to be your brother-in-law?"
He spoke in a pained whisper. There was no emotion, no longing on his face; there was only a sort of... fear. Story hoped he was afraid of her. She was afraid of him, but she refused to let it show.
"I'll come up with something," she said. She knew she sounded angry, even harsh, but he deserved it. "And I'll send you a private owl a few days into the honeymoon." She made to close the door, but he said, "I was hoping that civil conversation wouldn't be out of the question."
"It most certainly is, unless we're in public, and after you're married, I mean to make up an argument with you so that there's no doubt in the public eye about my feelings towards you."
"I was hoping to be friends."
It was like a punch in the gut.
"Get away from me before I hex you until you're unrecognizable," she spat.
He left, eyes still closed, hands up, backing away. Story left the room as well, closing the door to her room behind her and sealing it with a hex she had invented herself, and went back down the hallway to Daphne's room.
It was a little quieter and yet more chaotic, because Eugenia and Anneliese Nott had joined the bridal party and were supervising hair and makeup and the ivory whirlwind that was Daphne's dress. A few of the house-elves were helping, too; ironing the crisp jade-green dresses for the bridesmaids and the dresses for the two mothers.
"Remind me your names, I have no memory for names," Story said to the other bridesmaids. It was a little bit of a lie; she just hadn't bothered to learn their names.
"I'm Maura and this is Elyse," said the the black-haired one. She had a laughing face. The other one had coppery curls and a more subdued attitude. "And you're Torrie, right?"
"Yes, but only Daphne gets to call me that," said Story, smiling to let them know she wasn't offended. "Astoria is fine."
They laughed. Story learned that Elyse had a boyfriend, but Maura was single. Both of them were purebloods; Elyse had gone to Hogwarts and had been a Ravenclaw, in the year between Daphne and Story, but Maura's parents had sent her to Beauxbatons, because her father was French and he disapproved of Hogwarts. They had known Daphne from work; Daphne had been working at The Crossed Wands for nearly five years and was getting ready to leave her job, as the wife of Theodore Nott; but Maura had been working there for three years, and Elyse for two and a half.
"You were a model, weren't you? Was that fun?" asked Elyse.
Story nodded. It had been fun, in a way. "I got sick, though, so they had me in photography for a while." It was the standard story she used when someone asked her about being a model. She didn't want to be just Astoria Greengrass who used to be a model; she wanted to be Astoria Greengrass who used to be a model and a photographer.
And yes, she wanted more than that, but sometimes the truth was better left unsaid.
They put on their dresses. Story's dress was longer than the other two girls, reaching her ankles with a slight trail instead of stopping at her calves. That was the only indication that she was the maid of honor; in every other respect their dresses were identical. The bouquets, charmed to keep from drying or rotting, waited in glass vases on the counter.
"Torrie," said Daphne, "you have the most experience with makeup, could you-?"
Story nodded and pulled a chair up in front of Daphne. She worked on her sister's face for a while; spells to hide blemishes, all the ones she had learned from the girls at Gladrags; blush for the cheeks; mascara; tiny bits of eyeliner; and on and on with the little bits. When Daphne's makeup was done she cast a Repelling Charm on it so that the inevitable tears wouldn't wreck it. It had the added advantage of not allowing Daphne to touch her face and smear the makeup. She painted her sister's fingernails clear and her toenails green- after all, Daphne's shoes were close-toed. Eugenia was doing Daphne's hair, curling each lock individually and piling them up in a complicated knot at the crown of her head, fastening the veil underneath the curls.
"Astoria, you need to do your own hair and makeup, there's only three hours until the ceremony," said Eugenia. Her voice was beginning to screech at the edges.
"Relax, Mum," said Story. "I fixed my Gladrags-specialty calming draught for Daphne, she's as happy as a lark. Do you want one?"
It was a remark of her mother's stress that she didn't even argue with Story about using potions as drugs, she merely nodded. Story went to get her mother a potion and sent Saidy down to give her father one, then swallowed one herself. Instantly she felt relaxed and calm, though not happy. She could not be happy at the thought of this marriage. All she could do was pretend.
She did her own makeup, but Saidy reappeared and offered to do her hair. Story let her. She didn't know what Saidy did, but her mother complimented the house-elf on it. It was intricate, with braids curled into a knot at the side of her head.
"Thanks, Saidy," said Story.
Saidy curtsied. "Miss is most welcome. Does Miss require anything else?"
Story glanced around and spotted Mrs. Nott fidgeting impatiently and looking cross. "Um, yes." She lowered her voice. "Could you make Mrs. Nott a cup of tea, but before you give it to her, there are some potions on the floor of my parlor. Don't dump a whole potion in, just a few drops. If she asks, just tell her that I told you to make her one."
"Yes, Miss." Saidy vanished.
Story looked at herself in the mirror. She was very nearly ready. She pinned the corsage of lisanthium and baby's breath on her dress and picked up her bouquet of the same flowers. The wedding colors were lavender, jade, and white. Mrs. Nott wore ivory and Eugenia wore lavender. And Daphne was a vision in her dress- short flowing sleeves, a sweetheart neckline, and voluminous skirts. This wedding was a Very Big Deal, according to Eugenia and Daphne, and they were all dressed for it.
"I need a drink," said Daphne suddenly.
"Do you mean water, tea, or another potion, because if you mean alcohol, you don't get any until after you're married," said Story severely.
Daphne groaned. "It had better be another potion again."
"Let's wait a little longer," said Story, eyeing her sister. "You look jittery. Did you drink soda or coffee this morning? The potion doesn't go well with caffeine."
"I had coffee before I talked to you."
Story sighed. "That explains it. We'll wait an hour, if we can."
In the meantime, they got out of Daphne's room, so that the house-elves could finish Daphne's laundry, to be packed into the bags that would be sent along on the honeymoon. Most of the boxes had already been sent ahead to Cedar Point, the Nott estate. Daphne's room had only had a few of her clothes left in it. They moved to the master bedroom, checking to be sure Theodore wasn't anywhere near, and Eugenia and Mrs. Nott went downstairs to finish the final arrangements. Daphne was talking with Maura and Elyse and Story was bored and there weren't any books in her parents' room. She amused herself by making colored bubbles float from her wand in Daphne's wedding colors.
"Torrie."
Daphne had come over and sat on the side of the bed by her. She hadn't even noticed. "Hey, soon-to-be-married sister."
"Can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"Why don't you like Theodore?"
Story kept her face carefully blank, although she wanted to groan. Maura and Elyse had excused themselves; from the faint smells she had caught on them during their earlier conversation, Story suspected it was to smoke a cigarette. Daphne didn't smoke. Story had smoked the occasional cigarette, but she didn't like them very much and had stopped a long time ago.
"I do like him," she lied.
"You never say his name."
"Don't I?"
"No." Daphne's face was sober.
Story sighed. "If I could tell you, I would." It was her sister, after all. Daphne did deserve some semblance of the truth. "But we've made a deal. I don't tell anybody, and he leaves me alone when we're not required to speak to each other."
Daphne nodded, then said slowly, "This... it doesn't have anything to do with Eogan, does it?"
She hated to lie, but if she said yes, then Daphne would figure it out. Perhaps Daphne wasn't as smart as she was, but she certainly wasn't stupid. She shook her head. "No, of course not. It was a sort of a deal we made when he first got out of Azkaban. He expressed some interest left over from our school days and I turned him down. He was sort of annoyed about it, and I struck him this deal."
Daphne gazed at her for a moment, then nodded. "Okay. I believe you."
Because I'm a bloody brilliant liar and a horrible person. "Thanks. Do you want to take that potion now?"
Daphne nodded again. Story handed her the potion, and her sister swallowed it, relaxing almost instantly.
There was a knock on the door of the master bedroom, and Blaise's voice rang out, "We know you're in there, your mum told us, and we're practically bridesmaids so you'd better let us in."
Story went to the door and opened it to Blaise and Neil. Blaise wore jade-green dress robes and Neil wore his customary Westwood suit ("because Muggles, for all their strange style, make divine suits") with a tie the same shade as Blaise's robes.
"Oh, my God, Daphne, you're gorgeous!" said Neil. "Look at her, Blaise, I'm going to cry." He blew his nose into a satin handkerchief and beamed at them.
"Look at you," said Blaise proudly. "Five Galleons says Toria did your makeup."
"You would win," laughed Daphne, "because she did."
"That's a Gladrags face, and it's a good thing, too, because Gladrags faces are perfection, sweetie." Blaise kissed her on the cheek. "Two old friends, getting married today. It's really too good to be true."
But he met Story's eyes, and when Neil was congratulating Daphne, she saw the sadness in his face. He hid it well.
"I was reading your guest list," he said casually, by way of safe conversation. "All sorts of people. Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy were granted special permission to come, with an Auror escort."
"Is Draco with them?"
Blaise looked at her for a moment, his face unreadable, and then he said casually, "No, he's still in Europe, as far as I know. I think he's been up in Russia and Ukraine and the like."
Story was surprised at the sudden feeling of disappointment that welled up in her gut.
"Do you know what day it is, Toria?" he added quietly.
Story took a deep breath. "One year. Did you think I could forget?"
"I thought you must have, when they announced the wedding for this day."
"It wasn't conscious," said Story softly. "They forgot. Likely they'll remember in a week or so, and then they'll feel guilty. I visited the grave yesterday and left a bouquet of lilies."
She met her friend's dark eyes squarely. "I'm all right though, Blaise. Really, I am."
He studied her, and then he said quietly, "I still want to kill the bastard, though."
Story smiled sympathetically- it wasn't at all a nice smile. "Perfectly understandable."
Maura and Elyse returned, and introductions were made again; the bridesmaids had met Blaise and Neil briefly at the bachelorette party. Story had been in charge of organizing the party and had asked Daphne if she could invite Blaise and Neil, because if they had been girls they would have been the bridesmaids, rather than Maura and Elyse. Daphne had agreed, despite Eugenia's objections- "It's not traditional!"- but she couldn't argue much after they had shown up holding hands.
And then Eugenia returned and shooed Blaise and Neil away, the wedding was going to start in half an hour and they wouldn't have good seats if they didn't hurry and get them! And did Astoria have another potion, because she was going to go simply crazy, and find one for Anneliese too, would you, because she was going to drive her crazy, and she was going to cry and how would they know when to leave?
Then Virgil came in and calmed Eugenia down, I'll take care of everything, I take Daphne downstairs anyway because that's my job, just go to your seat and calm down.
Maura and Elyse lined up at the door first, and Story was after them, and then Virgil and Daphne on his arm. The wedding was going to be in the garden, but they had to wait until Theodore and the groomsmen were outside before they could go down the stairs. Story didn't remember or care who the groomsmen were. She knew that he had not asked Blaise for an incredibly stupid reason.
Finally they went down the stairs and waited in the room that led out to the garden. Story could hear the sounds of the harpists- really, harpists?- playing a rippling, calming sort of tune as the suited figures took their places at the front.
And then the harpists began playing that song that was played at weddings, and Maura and Elyse glided out into the aisle, and a few beats later Story followed them, holding her bouquet and keeping her head tall. She managed to stare straight forwards without looking at Theodore, and wondered idly if he would look at her or at Daphne. She sincerely hoped he would be looking at Daphne.
She took her place off to the side and turned to watch as Virgil handed a beaming Daphne over to Theodore, then sat down. A short, tufty wizard stood before them, smiling, and then he cleared his throat and began to speak.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we are gathered here today to celebrate the union of two faithful souls..."
Story didn't pay attention. She watched her sister. She wanted to turn around and look for Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy and their Auror guard- she might recognize a few of the Aurors. And maybe- she was getting better at admitting this sort of thing to herself, after solidly denying it for ten years- maybe Blaise was wrong and Draco was here.
But she knew better than to look. She forced herself to listen to the tufty wizard. After all, your sister getting married didn't happen every day.
"Do you, Theodore Bastien, take Daphne Octavia..."
She watched her sister, and only her sister. Daphne was crying, tears of happiness. Story had to smile at her sister. Daphne was genuinely happy. At some point she must have learned to care deeply for Nott.
She could only hope that he would endeavor to deserve her. Daphne deserved to be happy, so Story would never tell him that he did not deserve Daphne, even though it was the truth.
"Do you, Daphne Octavia, take Theodore Bastien..."
She did not look at Theodore. Daphne was beautiful. She looked like an angel of the sun, with her golden-brown curls, the color of glossy honey. Story didn't know if she believed in any kind of god, but she did believe in angels.
"...then I declare you bonded for life."
The tufty wizard waved his wand over Theodore and Daphne's joined hands, and a shower of stars sprinkled down onto them. There was a kiss, and everybody clapped. Story clapped, too. She didn't feel much like clapping.
As the ceremony transitioned into the reception, Story hugged her sister.
"I won't make you hug me," said Theodore, still not quite looking at her eyes, "but shake hands, for old time's sake?"
Story shook his hand as briefly as she could. There were hugs and kisses, and there was crying and laughter, and all she wanted to do was go upstairs into her room and take a very long nap.
But no, everyone had to dance. Story had to dance with the best man; he was a very nice and extremely boring fellow from Theodore's work at Gringotts named Patrick Delaney. She danced with him once, and then her dancing duties were over, so she walked over to the refreshments and got herself a glass of champagne.
"Have a headache, dear heart?" said Blaise wryly, appearing next to her as silently as a cat. She nearly dropped the champagne and swore at him.
He just laughed. "I'm not terribly pleased, either," he said, lowering his voice, "but I don't let it show so easily."
"If he asks me to dance I'll punch him in the face," whispered Story. "You'll plead my insanity at the Wizengamot case, yes?"
"With all my heart." Blaise waved to Neil, who was chatting pleasantly with Eugenia and Virgil.
"Does Neil... know?" asked Story.
Blaise shook his head. "I love him and everything," he said soberly, "so I have to protect him."
Story nodded. She understood that.
"Shall we dance, sweetheart?" said Blaise, his voice suddenly mocking. "I would go and dance with my own boyfriend, but I think that all of the conservative witches and wizards here would strongly disapprove of my sexual preference."
"Of that I have no doubt," said Story, wincing. "The thing about pureblooded wizards, and I know I am one so it sounds rather hypocritical, but they're rather backwards in everything, not just in their view on purity of blood. They don't accept anything different from what they already know." She followed Blaise onto the dance floor.
"Don't I know it," said Blaise. "My father was black, in case you didn't notice my spectacular olive complexion and dark eyes. My mother is ginger." He grinned at her. "So I'm neither black nor white, and the old, rich pureblood families think that I'm some kind of demon. Black purebloods they can stand. White purebloods they love. Proof of interracial relationships, like me, are the spawn of dementors as far as they're all concerned."
Story had to laugh at that.
After Blaise had danced with her, he and Neil went off to dance with Maura and Elyse and Story slipped inside, where some of the older witches and wizards had retired. Her parents and Mrs. Nott were still outside, because they had to be, but Story didn't care where she was supposed to be. The ceremony was done, anyway.
She spotted Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. They sat on a sofa next to each other. One Auror stood to either side of the sofa. Story didn't recognize either Auror. But nobody was speaking to Lucius or Narcissa, and they looked frightened. But being shut in one's own house for nearly four years would do that to anyone.
She went over to them. The Aurors glanced at her.
"May I?" she asked the Aurors, and they nodded.
Narcissa looked up at her. She was still a beautiful woman, though Story knew she was getting older. Both she and her husband had the fair hair traditional of the Malfoys, although Narcissa's hair was black on the undersides. Narcissa's eyes were also blue. The shape of them was similar to Draco's eyes, and she had to fight to keep from swallowing.
"Thank you for coming," she said, smiling. "We appreciate the effort. How have you been doing, Mrs. Malfoy?"
"We've been doing all right, thank you, Astoria," said Narcissa. Her voice was so soft that she had to lean forward to catch everything. "Thank your mother for inviting us. It's pleasant to leave the house for a change."
Story wanted to include Lucius in the conversation, but he was looking at his wife with an expression of- Story blinked- overwhelming tenderness.
"I don't know if it's rude to ask, but have you heard from Draco?" she found herself saying.
Narcissa smiled. "He doesn't write anybody but us, so it makes sense to ask," she said. "He doesn't write very often, either. He's actually said he may be home soon. He's in Germany at the moment."
"Do you write him often?"
"I write once a month," said Narcissa. "Lucius doesn't write. He's not much for writing letters- are you, my dear?" she said, turning to look at her husband.
He shook his head. "Not really, no," he said, and his voice was a little rough, Story could tell, from lack of use. "I never have been."
"Did you know Draco during school, Astoria?" asked Narcissa. Her hand wrapped around her husband's hand, and his fingers curled around her hand in return.
"Not very well," said Story. "I wish I had known him better. I'm two years younger, so I had my own friends." A lie, but with truth in it.
Narcissa nodded. "Yes, I think he knew Daphne better. I sent him an invitation, as I did when Gregory Goyle was married, but he didn't respond to it."
"Has he been in Europe for full four and a half years?"
Narcissa nodded. "He came home once," she said, "last year at Christmas. Really it was only five months ago. But he only stayed for an evening, and then he went back to Europe."
Story nodded.
Narcissa hesitated, then said quickly, "I know that Eugenia likes to host tea here, but if you would be willing to tell her- I would be grateful for her company, if she would care to visit me."
"I will tell her," said Story. "And I hope I'm not being terribly forward, but if she doesn't have time, would you mind if I came by myself?"
She was surprised by her own boldness, but she liked Narcissa Malfoy. There was something in the woman that reminded her of herself.
Narcissa gazed at her for a moment, clearly surprised, and then she smiled and said, "You are welcome at Malfoy Manor any time, Astoria."
Story smiled back and offered her hand to shake. Narcissa grasped it and shook once, then let go. Story got to her feet. "It was nice to talk with you, Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy. Thank you."
"You're welcome," said Narcissa. Lucius nodded.
Story went upstairs and went into her room. She locked herself in and changed into pajamas, wiping her makeup off. The sun had set, and the bride and groom would be sent off on their honeymoon pretty soon. She didn't feel like helping to see them off when she didn't want them married in the first place.
But she did feel oddly content. She didn't know if that was because Daphne was happy, at least, or if it was because the day she had been dreading for five months was finally over, or because she had managed to befriend Narcissa Malfoy, if not her these-days-quiet husband. She suspected it had mostly to do with the last one.