BAZ
Penelope walks down the aisle with Mordelia beside her, lilacs in her free hand and in her hair and tucked in the strap of her dress. It's even the color of her freshly dyed hair, lilacs blending into the wild curls cascading down her shoulder. And then Agatha and Teddy walk down, her arm tucked in the crock of her elbow, followed by Dev with Steph, Niall with Stacy, and Brian and Teddy bringing up the rear. It all feels very serious until the fools start chanting.
"Snow-Pitch," Teddy says lowly, throwing me a wicked smile before pumping his fist into the air, "Snow-Pitch!" Brian catches on quick, dancing down the aisle and plucking Mori and Bella from the ground. They shriek, just happy to be included in the fun. Mordy jumps away from beside me, tossing down her bouquet and skipping between them, cheering.
Soon, everyone under the age of thirty has joined in, standing and chanting and earning startled reactions from my many extended family members. Father scowls, and I think he'll put an end to this, but then Daphne claps her hands together and screams louder than anyone else.
And I wish Simon could see it, because he would love it. It's chaos, of the most joyful kind, and it's right in his wheelhouse. (And it's this reason alone that I won't murder Teddy.)
But then it all quiets down the second the quartet starts playing (a concession made early on. Simon gets a DJ at the reception, and I get two violins, a viola and a cello when he walks in.) And Mordy comes back to her rightful spot, breathing hard, shiny with sweat, and grinning.
She tugs on the sleeve of my suit jacket. "This is the best wedding ever," she whispers, nodding eagerly over to where Simon stands, wringing his hands. Dr. Wellbelove stands on one side of him and Penelope's Mum is on his other, holding onto his elbow and guiding him forward (he's made himself blind, whimpering and sniffling and crying too hard to see).
But he manages a wobbly smile and my heart hammers at my chest, trying to get to him. And as they walk, I think of time again. Because all I want is for him to finally be in front of me, holding my hand and vowing til' death do us part. And because time is a prickly bitch, everything is slow. Unrelentingly torturous, submerged in crystalline clear water. And I'm drowning in each of his tears; in the way he can't hold back a grin despite his sobs.
Dr. Wellbelove shakes both our hands. Penelope's mum kisses Simon's cheek and gives me what can only be considered a warning look tempered by affection.
"Be good to him," she murmurs, pushing a lilac behind my ear.
I catch her by the shoulder, and she glances back at me. "I will. I promise." And then there's no one but me and Simon (and a hundred of our closest friends and family). And as Fiona starts, he lets out a shuddery breath, taking my hands and drawing me in close.
SIMON
It's just like I thought it would be. I'm crying, from the minute we step out of the limo and onto the second great Grimm-Pitch Manor. And it only gets worse when I see him, decked out in a grey suit and trying to look annoyed with everyone screaming. But then Mordy springs between Brian and Teddy, and he's beaming. I don't even think he realizes it, he'd never let his fangs show like this, and it's everything I've wanted for so long that I can hardly take it.
Family, magic, love, the promise of a future.
So, I cry and he whispers something that makes me laugh. "Why are you already weeping?" He smirks. "You're ruining my plans to push you to tears."
"You're a git," I chuckle, and Fiona pinches my side.
"You may be marrying my nephew, Snow. But if you interrupt me again, I will gut you." Everyone chuckles, and Fiona winks like she's at a comedy club. I guess we are a pair of jokes. Good ones though, and that's all that matters.
We both turn to her, Baz groaning loudly enough for the both of us. "Get on with it then, Fi."
"Well now that I've lost my train of thought, I'll have to start again." Flicking her bangs away from her face, she huffs. "Dearly beloved," she says, "we've all been summoned here to celebrate the love between the Chosen One and his mortal enemy."
"Not what I meant by get on with it."
She ignores him, cocking her head to the side and considering the guests. "Ten years ago, if anyone would have told me that my nephew would fall in love with the great Simon Snow, I would have laughed. And then cried. And then found me some numpties to solve that little problem."
"Merlin, Fi!"
"Relax, Basilton. Please," she shushes him. "If you'd just let me finish, you'd see that I plan on being sweet soon." He harrumphs, but doesn't interrupt her again. "Anyway, I knew from the moment Baz was born that it would be hard to find someone who loves him the way he deserves. Because, a love so strong and so unwavering doesn't exist in this world. Or it didn't until the these two stopped fighting long enough to realize they were meant to be together."
I hiccup, and Baz crosses his eyes. His gaze darts to Fiona, making sure she isn't paying us too much attention, before he twitches his nose and winks. And it has the intended affect. I laugh, blinking away the last of my tears.
She goes on and on, sweet enough that I think Baz threatened her into behaving. But I don't hear any of it, not with Baz stroking his thumb over my knuckles and snorting at whatever he's finding so funny.
Soon, it's time for the vows and of course Baz's will be elegant and prettier than it should be and perfect, because it's him. And he's constantly trying to make me look bad.
"Simon," he starts, "I've spent the last six years searching through every metaphor and sonnet, nursery rhyme and song lyric, and yes, the occasional dirty limerick," someone gasps, and it only adds kindling to the laughter spilling through my friends, "to try and summarize the way that I love you. But Shakespeare hadn't found an adequate way of describing all those years at Watford, living with the ache that comes with knowing you've met the only one you'll ever want. And the Bronte sisters tried, but none of them quite managed to get the skip in my heart when you touch me, or the lurch in my stomach when you smile. And don't even get me started on that dolt Nicholas Sparks."
"I love Nicholas Sparks," I frown.
"I know you do, for some unimaginable reason." He smirks. "Whitney Houston and Stevie Wonder, they both came close, but I suppose finding the words will all fall on my shoulders. Je préfère passer une vie avec toi, que face à tous ages de ce monde seul."
"That's no fair," I take my hand back long enough to scrub at my eyes. "I don't understand Italian."
His shoulders quake, and now I know he's laughing at me. "It's French, actually. And it means I love you."
"Oh," I nod, my smile dimming as I realize that it's my turn. And there's no way I can go up after that without looking like a ginormous arse.
But I practiced, in front of Penny and Micah and Agatha and basically anyone else who would listen. And I don't even need the paper anymore, not if I think of his face and nothing else.
"Okay," I clear my throat noisily, wincing slightly when Fiona rolls her eyes. "So, um, I sort of wish that on the first day we ever met, I would have tried harder to be your friend. And then maybe I wouldn't have spent so much time confusing my love for you with hate. But that would mean rewriting our history, all of it, and then who knows what would have happened."
I feel a hand rub along my shoulder, and I thank Merlin for Penny. Because I'm shaking like a leaf, and my stomach feels as if it's about to bowl over, and I just need to get through this.
"And I'm thankful for it all, for every fight and for every stupid sneer and every posh, mean thing you ever said. Because it meant that you were always with me. You were the first thing I'd think about in the morning, and the last thought I had before I fell asleep. And I know I can do this because of all, like, the practice. I loved you then, I love you now, and I'll love you through all the bad days and fights and make-ups and best days we have from now until forever. So, uh, yeah. That's it. I don't know any fancy languages, and I barely know English, so that's all I've got to say."
Shutting his eyes, he inhales deep and reaches forward, cupping my cheek. "It was perfect." He whispers. "You're perfect."
"All right," Fiona whistles, "enough of this. Lovely vows aside, I think we all want to get to what we really came for." She pauses, and I rip my eyes away from Baz long enough to stare expectantly at her. "The open bar?"
"Always a class act," Baz mutters, dropping my hand so he can spin his. "Fine, let's finish this."
"Excellent," she claps, drawing Mari and Bella forward. "Do you, Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch, take Simon Snow for your lawful wedded husband? Will you love, honor, comfort, and cherish him from this day forward, forsaking all others- "
Baz cuts her off with a firm nod. "As long as we both shall live."
"And do you, Simon Snow, take Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch to be your lawful wedded husband? Will you love, honor, comfort and cherish him from this day forward, forsaking all others, keeping only onto him for as you both shall live?"
I shrug, and this time Penny isn't much of a comfort.
She slaps a hand along the back of my head. "You can't shrug to that, Simon. Use your words," she hisses.
"Yes," I growl, shooting back a quick scowl, "yes, I do, forever."
"If you'd hurry it along with the rings," Mari hands me a golden band, and an identical one glints in the air as Bella passes it to Baz. I press his to my lips before slipping it onto his finger. Mine settles just above the engagement ring, and I think they'll be fast friends. "Outstanding. I now diagnosis you with a near fatal case of marriage. Please snog already so we can go."
"With pleasure," Baz says, nudging past her until we're inches apart and then closing the gap between us. And I've got to say, it feels different kissing my husband. Right. Inevitable, even.
Once we've pulled back, his lips bright red like the lights on a Christmas tree, everyone claps.
"Baz?"
"Yes, love?"
"It's time for food now, yeah?"
He slings an arm around my waist, grinning into my hair. "That it is, love. That it is."
BAZ
Penelope is waiting for us as soon as Simon and I make our way inside after pictures and well wishes. He tries not to pout the entire time, but I can hear his stomach rumbling from where he stands, and his frown gets deeper and deeper each time. It'll be a riot looking at all the photos when they've developed.
"Simon," she kisses his cheek, "my mum wanted to talk to you. Can you spare a few moments? I'll keep this one out of trouble." She jerks her chin up at me, but I'm too ecstatic to feign incredulity, so I don't respond, just watch Simon.
He turns to me, puppy dog eyes out and fucking blazing. "You'll be all right with me gone?"
"Course I will, I'm not a child," I scoff. "Maybe on the way back, you can grab us some food as well."
His face lights up at the idea, and it doesn't take much more convincing before he's scampering away.
Once he's gone, Penelope wheels around on me, folding her arms across her chest and pursing her lips. "What's your problem?" I ask.
"'I would rather spend one lifetime with you than face all the ages of this world alone'," she says, each word carefully formed on her tongue before she throws them at me. "Unlike your new husband, I happen to be fluent in French."
I bristle, balking underneath her stare before remembering that this is my fucking wedding day and I'm not to be intimidated (even by Bunce, who is regularly the most intimidating person I know). "Fine, not my words. But I'm sure J. R. R. Tolkien won't mind that I borrowed them."
She hums, some of her bravado leaking away. "Well, it was wonderful. And I can tell that he loved it, so no use spoiling his fun. Besides, I didn't come here to hassle you." She steps forward, sliding her arms around my waist. "I just wanted to say I'm happy for you, for the both of you."
"You've gotten sentimental on me, Bunce," I sneer, returning her hug, "what good will you be to me now?"
"Don't give me a hard time, Basilton," she says, pulling back and lifting her nose into the air. "For some odd reason, you've filled this room with candles, and you're extremely flammable."
"Threats won't do you any good. Not today at least." I laugh, dropping a kiss onto her forehead before walking out of reach. "You make a lovely best girl, Bunce. I look forward to your toast."
"And I've gone sentimental?" She calls after me.
"Oh, I must definitely have," I murmur, pulling a face, "obviously." (We're at my wedding, for fuck's sake. I'm absolutely sentimental.)
SIMON
"I did something."
"You've done lots of things. I've got a list if you want."
He inhales, looking skyward before back at me. "Please don't be difficult for the next minute. After that, you can do whatever you please."
"Fine," I say gracefully. "What'd you do?"
He taps at my hand as we walk onto the dance floor, finding the rings as we wiggle through the crowd. "Those rings, they're a bit more than just sparkly."
"Yes," I nod sagely, "they're also very shimmery."
He hushes me with a look. "I thought, since you got your wand from the Mage, after everything that happened, it was time for the family we're going to make to have something magickal of our own."
"What do you mean?"
He brings his lips close to my ear. "They were my mother's. And you're my family, so the way I see it, they'll work better than any wand."
"Stop it."
He frowns, puzzled by my reaction. "Stop it?" He repeats, losing some of his shine.
"Stop doing things to make me love you," I can't hold back my grin, so I don't bother trying. "You've already got me." Someone pushes into my back and I stumble into him. "This is too much."
"There's no such thing as too much, not when it comes to you." He slides in close, one hand on my waist and one hovering in the air. When I stare back at him dumbly, he rolls his eyes. "You're a terrible dancer," he murmurs, tucking my arm neatly at his waist and the other on his shoulder. "How is that possible? I paid for lessons."
"I can stand and sway with the best of them. You're the one who decided that we needed to foxtrap, or tangle or whatever."
"You're being purposefully obtuse." He takes a step back, and I follow. As long as I let him lead, I probably won't fall. Probably. "You know the names."
"I just don't care about the names," I agree.
Our first dance, to some Elvis song with a pretty melody, was easy enough. We kind of just stood in the middle of the dance floor, shuffling about until Daphne and Penelope broke in, Baz laughing as he twirled his stepmother and Penny bumping her hip against mine. But now Baz wants to show off, and he's stupidly light on his feet.
"I think I'm just tired," I admit, flinching as I step on his toe, again. "It's been a long day."
"Well, one more dance, and then we'll be off." He promises, giving up on the fancy footwork long enough for me to rest my chin on his shoulder. "No more toasts, no more food- " I scoff at the idea, and he pinches my side. "Just you, me and the airport."
"Come on, Baz. Just tell me where we're going. It's one place, not some big secret," I yawn, snuggling in closer to him.
"Not one place, Simon," he's smiling; it makes his voice brighter, his words smoother. "Everywhere, for as long as you'd like." He cranes his neck down until our eyes meet. "I've got a map and unlimited destinations. I thought we could visit the country with the most famous sour cherry scones, and then go from there."
"Really?" I ask, my excitement chasing away the drowsiness lingering inside of me. "But what about -?"
"No," he tucks his finger underneath my chin and lifts, "no questions, no worries, none of that. We've graduated and we can think of jobs and responsibilities once we land back in New York. For now, all I care for if your happiness and the amount of sunscreen Bunce packed for us."
"If you'd all head to the front of the house," the DJ calls, "it's time to bid the happy couple fare well."
And I wish I'd been paying more attention during that last dance. Because it's over, and I'd been too focused on him to soak it all in. But I'd rather remember the way his eyes crinkled during Penny's toast than what she actually said. Or the softness of his freezing hands when we swung around in circles, Mordy between us squealing with delight, to some song that didn't matter. Or the way he picked the rice from his hair with a scowl as we run to the town car waiting for us.
"Archaic, wasteful," he snarls, "Simon, would you come on?" Someone pegs him in the face with a handful of rice and he sneers. I can just make out Stacy's giggle, and I grin as she leans into Steph to avoid Baz's glare.
Penny races after us, throwing her arms up and sinking into me. "Send me pictures from Ibiza?"
"Sure, as soon as you tell me where that is."
She snickers, loosening her hold on my hips. "He's going to pop a vessel if you don't go along." Baz bats at another stream of rice, gritting his teeth. "Fast."
I nod, taking her hand and dropping a kiss to the back of her palm before sliding into the car. He practically leaps in behind me, slamming the door shut with a hiss. "Fucking idiots." He shakes his head, sending rice raining down onto the dark leather seats.
"No frowns today," I lean into him, kicking off my loafers and bringing my knees to my chest. "Or any day after." He hums, shifting around long enough to shrug off his jacket and loosen his tie. "Baz?" He glances down at me, brushing his fingers through my hair. "What do we do now?"
The driver turns back to us, smiling faintly. "Where to then, boys?"
"To the airport." Stilling, he considers my question. "Anything we want."
"I like the sound of that."
"I do to," he decides. The car still lingers in front of the house, and he raises a hand, sending back a feeble wave to everyone we love. "Go on then, driver," he calls, "carry on."
.
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A/N: Ahhh, I'm literally crying. This has been a yearlong journey of loving these characters and not hating my writing and loving everyone who's read, favorited, followed and reviewed. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it as much as I have, and don't worry, I'll be back with an epilogue!