Mr. and Mrs. Edward Lupin
James was woken up by a strong knock at the door. He stumbled out of bed as Scorpius was getting up from the floor from where he had fallen down, and Albus was mumbling curses that would make their mother wash his mouth with soap as he was looking for his glasses. Perching his own square spectacles on his nose, James opened the door only to realize just how much of a battlefield the hallway was. Lily was pounding on the bathroom door down the hall, yelling at Molly to hurry up, Rose was running around with a towel on her head calling Roxanne for her curl taming spell, and Louis was walking around with a button down shirt and only his blue boxers on threatening Fred and Hugo to give him his pants back before he locked both of them in the broom shed. And, standing in front of him after having practically broken his door down, was the man of the hour himself.
"Good, you're up!" Teddy said, unfazed, sporting his usual turquoise hair. "Harry picked up the rings from the jeweler this morning, here you go."
He handed him a black velvet box. James took it in his hands and looked at it, still not fully up and not exactly understanding what was going up.
"Uhhh…"
"You wrote a speech, like I asked you to?" The groom asked.
"Yeah, I finished it last night…"
"Good."
"Ted, I just woke up and my head is still halfway up my ass, I don't have the braincells to play a guessing game. What is this?" The seventeen-year-old asked, a little irritated.
"The rings."
"I know those are the rings. But what am I supposed to do with these?"
"How did you make it this far in life, James? You're my best man, you're supposed to keep the rings until the ceremony. Why did you think you were right behind me at the rehearsal two days ago?"
Now, James was not a sentimental guy. He didn't remember the last time he had cried, and he was willing to bet it was something related to Quidditch. But at that moment, his eyes watered a little.
"I… I'm your best man?" He repeated, a little stupidly.
"James. You're my brother. Of course, you're my best man," Teddy answered matter-of-factly, although his eyes crinkled a bit on the corners, hiding an outright smile of affection.
James cleared his throat and blinked the tears away.
"Yeah, mate, of course. I'll see you before the ceremony starts, alright?"
"Good. Don't be late."
"How can I? Gran will drag my arse to the marquee at two o'clock so we can have everyone settled down by three."
Teddy gave him one last smile before turning around and walking away.
"As your best man, it's my duty to tell you the blue hair might not be that good of a choice!" He called after him.
"Fuck off, James," was the answer.
James just smiled before locating his dress robes and placing the box in one of his pockets. Knowing fully well that the shower down the hall was taken, he went to the one on the last floor. Everyone seemed to prefer the bathrooms in the lower floors, and James knew it would be less likely to be full, so he usually kept his things there. The door opened before he reached it, and out came Moire, dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. She was drying the ends of her thick auburn hair with a towel and James remembered the events of the previous night. He wished for the floor to open up and swallow him whole at that very moment. Last night had been quite interesting, to say the least. He had remembered during the day that Teddy had asked him to write a speech for his wedding, and now he realized why he had needed to do it. So, James had thought of what he would say all day and before heading to bed, he had decided to put it on paper. Of course, thinking of it and actually writing it had been two different things, and James had found a small bottle of Firewhiskey that he had smuggled in his trunk and had drank half of it before finishing the speech. A glass of water before bed had seemed like a reasonable thing to do, especially since he would most likely need to be up early the next morning. He had drained his glass and decided to just sit in the quiet for a second, and then he had heard the steps coming down the stairs. James was ashamed to say he had recognized the sound of her footsteps before he had even seen her walk into the kitchen. She had paused as he had called her name, before she came and sat next to him.
For a second, he had been scared of having ruined everything in the laundry room. In fact, James was terrified that Moire had seen straight through his poker face. A strong urge to lift her small frame in his arms, pin her against a wall, and just kiss her until neither of them could breathe anymore had taken over him, and he was certain that had the plate not broken in the next room, he would've actually done it and risked his life. But it had occurred to him that, out of all the ways to die that he could think of, he was fine with that one. So, when he had noticed the mistletoe above them, he was ready to do what he should've done in the laundry room. She had closed her eyes, and as soon as he had lost contact with the golden specks in them, he had regained some reason. Her eyes had been closed and her hands had balled up into fists and for a second, he was scared to have been mistaken. She didn't want this. So, he kissed her cheek instead, and had watched her climb the stairs in a regal, almost royal way.
She raised her head and blinked a couple of times as she saw him. A couple of brief emotions passed through her eyes before she gave him a soft smile.
"I guess everyone woke up before us this morning," she said.
"I'm going to miss having our breakfast time."
"Don't worry, everything will be back to normal tomorrow."
"Maybe not tomorrow. The party will probably go on all night," he warned.
"Just what I liked to hear," she laughed.
The sound of her laugh made him smile. Then, she waved him goodbye and went back to her room. She probably would eat a bite of something before getting ready, and James hoped she would still be in the kitchen when he was done with his shower.
He had refused to sit down and excessively think of why she made him feel the way he felt. He could remember their third year, when he did all he could to get a rise out of her. Hell, even before that, back in first year, he had seen her walk to the Sorting Hat, back straight, shoulders back, chin up. They were all terrified, even James was, but he had hidden everything behind a smirk and a few jokes. Moire, however, had seemed fearless, bold, even, and for a second there, James had wished the little girl with the auburn hair would be sorted into Gryffindor, where he was quite certain he would be in. The hat had barely sat on her head a whole second that she had been sent to Slytherin. She had smiled, placed it back neatly on the chair, and walked to the table like she owned the Great Hall. And James had had the overwhelming urge to talk to her in any way that was possible. He had briefly considered pulling her braid when she sat in front of him in Potions later that week but had chickened out of it. He realized now, at the age of seventeen, that it would've resulted in her punching the living daylights out of him, but as an eleven-year-old, it was the quickest way to get her to talk to him. The following two years consisted of similar terrible plans that he hadn't been brave enough to carry through. James Sirius Potter had been a Gryffindor through and through for his entire life, but there had always been something about Moire McLeoch that managed to strip everything from him. Everything included braincells, and that is how his first real shot at talking to her turned into the biggest fight Hogwarts had seen since James and Lily Potter were students, which was ironic, given how his grandparents turned out.
After a shower and a shave, James put on a pair of jeans and a Weasley jumper. There were still a couple of things to do around the house before he could change into his dress robes and besides, it was still dark outside. He descended to the kitchen, and while all the adults had finished eating and were already running around, the rest of his cousins were taking their time. Rose, whose hair had been styled into loose curls rather than the frizzy mess it usually was in, was munching on some bread, Lily had a towel wrapped around her head and was spreading some leftover persimmon jam on a scone, Fred mindlessly stirred his tea, Albus was falling asleep on his eggs, and Lucy and Molly fought over the last biscuit. They all looked like Inferi, aside from Moire, who was leaning against the kitchen counter, drinking a cup of tea. She looked radiant, but at the same time, Moire always looked nothing short of spectacular. He poured some tea for himself and went to stand next to her.
"Still too much milk, Potter," she smirked, not looking away from the spectacle his cousins and siblings offered.
"Don't shit on my tastes, McLeoch. I can't be that bad if I like Quidditch."
"I mean you're not wrong, but no one can hate Quidditch."
And like that, she drank the last of her cup, washed it, and placed it on the drying rack before she gave him a look that made his insides act up.
"I'm going to see if Victoire needs any help, and then I'm going to get ready."
He had known that Moire was not going to go the wedding in a pair of sweatpants. But for some reason, he hadn't really put much thought about what she would look like fully decked out for a formal occasion. She looked impeccable every day, not a hair out of place, and she usually had some makeup on, though it never looked like it was caked on, but a wedding was a different type of event, where people wanted to look their best, and for some reason, he did not think he was ready for that just yet. Sighing, he drank his tea, and when he was done, he tackled the last few tasks before officially starting to get ready.
oOo
James tugged on his tie, then realizing it was a lost cause, he sighed and gave up. He had done the best he could styling his hair, but short of hexing it flat, nothing could be done. It still looked messy but not as terrible as it usually did. And besides, he wouldn't be alone in looking like a hair explosion, as he was sure his father and his brother would look the same, if not worse. Speaking of his father, he realized there was something the Chosen One (he rolled his eyes at that) could help him with, and he exited his room, making his way to the first floor where his mother's old room originally was and where his parents stayed when they spent time at the Burrow.
"Dad?" He called out, knocking.
"Be right out," Harry answered. The door opened shortly after on his dad, who seemed to have just finished getting ready himself. "What can I help you with?"
"I'm shite at this," he explained, pointing to his tie. "Can you help me out?"
His father gestured for him to come inside.
"Where's Mum?"
"Helping Vic with something or the other."
A short silence fell on the room as Harry started on the tie.
"So, anything you want to talk about?"
The blood froze in James' veins, but he kept his expression even.
"No, what would there be to talk about?"
"Your head's been in the clouds since we got here."
"Has it?"
Another silence. His father was done tying his tie, but he picked a few pieces of invisible lint from James' white shirt.
"Son, I was your age once. And I was lost when it came to girls, too."
"We're not having this discussion, Dad!" He exclaimed. Harry simply laughed.
"Whatever you say, James. But trust me, I was confused when it came to knowing how I felt about your mother. And your grandfather was a downright git with your grandmother because he didn't know how to talk to her. Moire is –"
"There's nothing going on between Moire and I!"
His father raised his eyebrow at him.
"Sure. Well, if something is going on, just remember: don't be overconfident like your grandfather. And don't be a noble idiot like me. I would say to feel free to come talk to me anytime, but let's be honest here, I was not exactly smooth, and your mother would probably be of better help. But I'm here if you need me."
James rolled his eyes.
"Whatever you say," he replied. He couldn't keep a small smile from appearing on his lips and he knew that his father would be there for him anytime.
"Go on, your Gran will be mad if you're late downstairs."
"Thanks, Dad."
James left the room and went back to his to slip on his robes. He could hear the girls through the wall they shared, and laughs seemed to resonate in his room as if they were in there too. He tried not to picture Moire with her head thrown back as she laughed, and headed out, making sure the rings were safely tucked in his pocket. He reached the backyard and paused for a second to admire the work that had been done. The weather bubble had assured that only a small layer of snow rested on the Weasley property and it looked like a scene from a snow globe. Louis and Moire had suggested to hang lights on the marquee so it would seem like icicles were falling from it and he had to admit, the result was breathtaking. He walked inside of the marquee, where the temperature was a lot warmer. A table stood at the front, covered in the little jars of jam on which the labels read in carefully calligraphed letters Mr. and Mrs. Edward Remus Lupin, and the chairs had been decorated with white ribbons and pine. The altar stood in front of them, so white it almost shone, and James smiled, knowing that Victoire and Teddy would have the best wedding there could be. He had barely wrapped his mind around the fact that everything was finally happening that his Grandad placed a seating chart in his hands.
"Guests should be here soon, but Ted wants you upstairs at about a quarter to three, the latest. But aside from that, looking very sharp there, James."
"Thanks, Grandad."
And he was right, the guests started arriving then. From where he stood, he could see Fred chatting with a few Veelas as he walked them to their seats. Hugo, whose hair had been tamed with Sleekeazy, no doubt by Aunt Hermione, was stuck with a couple of elderly relatives who seemed to nag his ear off.
"Hi Professor!" James said, noticing Neville walk in with Hannah and Alice.
"James, we're outside of school, I've literally known you since you were born," he replied, amused.
"I know, but it's either this or I slip up and call you Uncle Neville in the middle of Herbology class," James humored him. "Hello Aunt Hannah! Hi Alice! Let me show you to your seats."
He held in a chuckle when he saw Albus try not to trip on his own shoes upon seeing Alice in her long red dress. Scorpius seemed to want the earth to swallow him whole as he walked the entire Hogwarts teaching staff to their chairs was also great entertainment. The next half hour was a hectic affair of guests arriving and chattering, but little by little, more of his cousins walked out, finally ready. James admitted they all looked beautiful, but he kept his eye out for the only girl who was still not downstairs. When enough of his family members had come out, and the number of guests had slowed down, James shoved his seating chart in his pocket and headed inside. A quick look to his watch revealed it was almost time for him to go upstairs and meet Teddy, so he headed to the staircase just as Moire came down from it. And the world stopped around him for a second.
It seemed to James like someone had punched him straight in the stomach, knocking the air out of his lungs, and he felt lightheaded for a moment. She was objectively beautiful on a regular day, but never in his wildest dreams did he imagine how she would look in the green dress that once hung on a mannequin in the window of the Hogsmeade clothing shop. The translucent green lace that made up the sleeves drew floral patterns all over her arms and the neckline looked more daunting than he had thought at first, the emerald green fabric sharply contrasting over the pale skin of her chest. The material that made up the skirt, while it had looked heavy at first, moved along with her and rippled like a wave in the water, and for a moment she looked like some sort of nymph or spirit. Her hair had been brought over her left shoulder and cascaded down in thick waves. Her eyes were highlighted with green and gold makeup and it seemed like the golden specks in her irises shone brighter today, and as if he wasn't tortured enough, her lips were painted in a vibrant red color. It should have clashed with her hair, but for some reason, it seemed like the color had been designed for her.
"Zip me up?" She asked.
She seemed confident, undoubting, unlike James whose heart was beating out of his ribcage. Then, he noticed her fidgeting with the gold bracelet on her wrist, and it occurred to him that perhaps, Moire was just as full of shit as he was in the confidence department. He agreed to her request with a little nod and she turned around. It seemed like she had tried to zip her dress herself but hadn't gotten that far up. For some reason unknown to him, it had seemed like a good idea to put a hand on her waist, and while he couldn't see her face from where he was standing, the slight breath intake he would have missed had he not been so close and the back of her neck turning red told him that maybe, just maybe, whatever effect she had on him wasn't entirely one-sided. He slowly pulled the zipper up and as he was finished, she turned around to face him, his hand still on her waist. James realized just how much the fabric seemed to melt with her skin, highlighting every line of her and a strong impulse to pull Moire closer came over him.
"Morning…," an amused voice came from behind them, and the magic stopped.
His Uncle George stood by the sink, glass of water in hand, and the expression of a child who was just told Christmas was coming early. Moire's face was now a flaming mess and she stuttered something about going outside, her accent thickening for a brief second, before practically running out the door.
"We were… I was just… She needed help zipping her dress up," James pathetically attempted.
"Mmmhmmh, I bet," George humored him, barely holding in his laughter.
He turned around and headed upstairs and wasn't even out of earshot when he heard his Uncle George's laugh resonating through the walls.
"What's wrong?" Teddy asked as he walked in and all but slammed the door behind him.
"Nothing, don't worry."
"James, you look like a tomato. Seriously, your face looks like it's about to burst."
"Don't worry about it, it's your wedding."
"Did the sexual tension between you and Moire finally get thick enough for you to notice it?" The blue-haired young man asked with a lopsided smirk as he straightened up his tie.
"I—the what?"
"James. You can fool Harry, Fred, and even half of Hogwarts. But I taught you everything you know about girls, so I can see right through you."
James sighed and plopped on one of the beds in the room. He found it funny for a second that, even though it was Teddy's wedding, he still had to share a room with Louis. His brother looked at him, eyebrow raised, still waiting for an answer.
"I don't know, man, it's been weird since this summer. Before that, McLeoch scared the crap out of me, not that she can ever know that. But then, it just casually shifted into me wanting to snog the life out of her. I guess… I guess as I started getting to know her more, she was less like this scary figure I always used to see from afar, and more like an actual, sometimes vulnerable, person with more depth and traits than being terrifying, you know? And somehow, she became a friend, and I swear Ted, when she smiles, it's hard to even remember how I thought she scared me."
There was a short silence.
"Listen, James, maybe you just –"
He did not get to finish his sentence, as Charlie came into the room.
"Ceremony starts in about fifteen, mate, you probably want to get downstairs soon."
"Well, in that case, let's get going!" James cheerfully said, standing up.
Teddy threw him a worried glance but sighed, realizing that he was needed downstairs.
"We'll talk about this later. Here, pin this to your collar."
He handed him a white rose, and they both made their way downstairs. James was barely looking in front of him, busy attempting to pin the rose on his robe collar, not quite succeeding. He lost count of how many times he had pricked himself in the finger. The ceremony still a few minutes away, people were still standing up, waiting for the official start, and a few cheers resonated as the groom appeared, followed by his best man who looked ready to throw the damn bud on the floor and stomp on it.
"You're doing it all wrong," he heard as he passed by the row his family sat in.
Looking up, he saw Moire walk up to him. She seemed to have regained her confidence and he could almost hear the aristocracy in her measured footsteps. She grabbed the flower and the pin from him and gently, but quickly, she fastened it to the front of his robe.
"There," Moire smiled. "All done."
A rush of Gryffindor boldness came over him and he grabbed her hand, which seemed much smaller in his, giving it a squeeze.
"Thanks," he said, his eyes looking straight into hers.
She blinked a couple of times and then cleared her throat before taking a step back. He let go of her hand.
"Go on, Potter, you've got a job to do," she declared with authority, pointing to the altar, where Teddy stood near his Aunt Hermione, who was the officiant for the wedding.
The groom gave James a look as he approached them.
"Don't think this conversation is over."
"Wouldn't dream of it, Ted."
The next ten minutes went by quick, but James assumed that they felt like ten years to Teddy. The guests had all settled down and eventually, the band started playing and the guests turned around. Dominique came out first, sporting her blush pink colored dress, smiling from ear to ear, and then the guests rose and Victoire walked in, Bill holding her arm, looking stunningly beautiful. Their Aunt Muriel had left her tiara to her last living relative, his Gran, who had taken it out of the box for every single one of her children's weddings', and now her first grandchild's. The tiara sparkled like a hundred little stars on Victoire's blond hair as the lights hanging inside the marquee reflected from it. They reached the front, and Bill kissed his daughter's forehead before placing her hand on Teddy's.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" Hermione started, a large smile on her face. "We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of two souls –"
James thought his face would split in two. It looked like Teddy had been punched in the gut when Victoire had come out, looking like the sun itself in her white dress. Now, he was smiling dopily, and the seventeen-year-old could've burst of happiness that the man he considered his brother was officially becoming a member of the family.
"Edward Remus Lupin, do you take Victoire Fleur Weasley to be your lawfully wedded wife, to cherish –"
He could see his Gran, his Aunt Fleur, and his Aunt Audrey cry into their handkerchiefs, and his mother handed his Aunt Angelina her spare as she also seemed to tear up slightly. His Uncle Bill was smiling sadly and squeezing his wife's hand reassuringly, although it might have been for himself. Hagrid nearly blew professor Flitwick away and Headmistress McGonagall, sporting a regal red tartan looked at the couple with the biggest smile he had ever seen her give anyone.
"The rings, please?"
James dug the velvet box out of his pocket and handed it to Teddy.
"By the power vested in me as Minister of Magic," Hermione announced after the rings were slipped on. "I declare you husband and wife, bonded for life. You may kiss the bride."
In a thunder of applause, Teddy dipped Victoire and kissed her as balloons burst, releasing sparling snow that vanished as it hit the ground and doves that vanished into white smoke. The guests all stood up at Hermione's request and with a flick of her wand, the chairs were replaced by large tables and chairs, and the band started playing a lively music for the couple's first dance.
oOo
The guests danced, and at sundown, the food was served. Then toasts were made, and James could hear the guests marvel over the quality of the Firewhiskey. The beautiful, gigantic cake made by their Gran and decorated with golden motifs was cut and Victoire took great pleasure shoving her new husband's face in it. More dancing, followed by more toasts, and more music. James himself was a little woozy after dancing with each of his cousins, and his sister, and after quite a few rounds of champagne and Firewhiskey. His Gran, in a beautiful purple dress with bright stones on it, was dancing with his Grandad, who donned very smart looking blue robes. His Mum and Dad were dancing and laughing like teenagers, and while it was sweet, he had an obligation as their son to be disgusted by their behavior. His Aunt Luna was dressed in a bright yellow dress with a sunflower tucked into her ear and the twins sported nice yellow ties around their necks. Uncle Rolf had seemed to entirely embraced the Lovegood side of the family as he wore a yellow shirt under his robes. If Aunt Muriel was still alive, she would comment on how Xenophilius looked like an egg yolk in his entirely yellow outfit, like she did every wedding they both attended before her death. Teddy and Victoire looked the happiest they had ever looked and Victoire seemed to make everything more beautiful around her, which was something he had noticed happened with his Veela relatives when they were particularly happy. He spotted a head of auburn hair among his cousins, and with a smile, he walked with determination towards them. He had seen her dance with quite a few people, including the infamous Victor Krum himself, although he was old enough to be her father, and from what he had gathered, they talked about Quidditch the entire time. Not that he was jealous. Of course not. She had also danced with little Alexandre at some point, and James swore the little boy was in love with her.
"Hey, James!" Roxanne smiled. Her greetings were echoed by Dominique, Rose, and Molly. Moire just gave him a smile and in a second, all his bravado was lost.
"Hey, guys," he answered, hoping his voice wasn't too shaky. Thankfully, it didn't seem like it was, which made him gain some of his confidence back. "Care for a dance, McLeoch?"
There was a silence as his cousins' eyes practically bulged out of their sockets. If Moire was surprised, she didn't show it. Her smile not wavering, she nodded, finished her glass of Firewhiskey, and stood up, taking the arm he was offering. He didn't miss Albus go up to Scorpius, who was dancing with Rose, and jab him in the rib, pointing at the two of them. He would deal with his brother later. In the meantime, he had to make sure that the beautiful, radiant, ticking time bomb in his arms didn't explode in his face. From what he could see, though, she didn't seem like she would. Once they got to the middle of the dance floor, he put a hand on her waist and grabbed hers with the other, while she placed her hand on his shoulder.
"Don't step on my feet, McLeoch," he joked.
"Please," Moire scoffed. "Who do you think I am?"
It was easy to forget at times that Moire was the heir of an ancient and powerful clan, whose status almost rivaled the Black family before they had died out. Of course, she was raised to know how to dance, and to speak French, and to use fifteen different types of forks.
"Oh, I apologize, my Lady," James exclaimed, with a mock apologetic face.
"I don't know if this offense can be forgiven, Mister Potter." Her face was somber, but she made no attempt to hide the amused gleam in her eyes. "You have greatly insulted me, and by doing so, the entire Clan of McLeoch."
"How will I ever redeem myself for this affront?"
Unable to contain themselves, the two of them burst into a fit of uncontrolled giggles. Once they managed to stop, they resumed their dancing, and somehow the music was a slower one. She was closer to him and he could feel the heat radiate from her. Her hand was on his neck now and James' fingers were on the small of her back. They danced in silence and her head rested on his shoulder for the remainder of the song. Rosy cheeked, she smiled, giving his fingers a squeeze as she returned to her seat, looking back at him with a smile as she did so. She sat back down, striking up a conversation with Rose, who had finally sat down. She looked at him a few times as Rose spoke, and they exchanged secretive smiles, like they were having a silent conversation no one else was privy to but the two of them.
James finally made his way to the front, a glass of champagne in hand, that he hit on the side with a spoon. The crystalline sound made everyone turn around and the music stopped. Those still up and dancing returned to their seat.
"Can I have everyone's attention, please?"
Once all the eyes were on him, James, satisfied, spoke again.
"So, first of all, I want to thank everyone for being here and celebrating Teddy and Victoire. And I wanted to thank Teddy for making me his best man today. Quite literally today. He didn't tell me until this morning."
A few laughs echoed around the room as he said so and Teddy had a little amused smile on his face.
"I mean it's only fitting. I was the one who outed them to the entire family on the first day of my third year…"
"Noisy git," the groom called, cutting him off, enticing another round of laughter.
"… so, I guess it's only fair I stand by him today too," James finished, unfazed. "Although I told him the hair should probably be not be blue today, but I don't think I can repeat his answer without Gran and Mum murdering me, so I will abstain…"
oOo
His speech had sent most of the room in hysterics and Teddy's face was buried in his hands, the only other indication of his embarrassment, which had been narrated by his own best man, being his bright red hair. James swore he even saw Headmistress McGonagall slapping her knee at some point. As for Moire, tears of laughter shone in her eyes and he felt oddly proud for making her laugh.
The party continued well into the night. James was too happy and exhausted to yell at Lorcan or Lysander, whichever one of them it was, for dancing with Lily and he made a mental note to kick their arses at practice, but that could wait. He noticed Moire leaving the marquee and followed her.
"Not having fun?" He asked. She jumped, not realizing someone had seen her slip out.
"You scared the crap out of me, you arse!"
He laughed, and eventually she joined too.
"And for your information, I am having fun. Actually, I don't think I've had this much fun in my entire life. And I don't just mean tonight, I meant these past few days, helping you all prepare for this, it's been the best five days I've ever had."
"I told you nothing was boring when my family has a hand in it!"
She chuckled at that.
"And you were right. I just like escaping big parties when no one notices. Have a little bit of quiet before going back in. Also, the stars are beautiful tonight."
She was right. The sky was unbelievably clear considering it had snowed the night before, and the moon was a perfect crescent.
"I wanted to watch them for a little while, but it's a bit nippy, so I wanted to grab my tartan."
He nodded.
"Do you mind if I join you? Like you said, it would be good to soak in some quiet before we have to go back."
"I don't mind it a bit," she replied gently. He saw her disappear upstairs and as she did, he took the time to find the most remote bench, further away from the marquee and the noise of the party. He cleaned it up with his wand before returning to the door that led into the kitchen. There, the catering staff had set up camp and he spotted a few half-consumed bottles of Firewhiskey. Grabbing one of them, he headed to the bottom of the stairs and waited for Moire to come down. She did soon after, holding a folded up, thick looking piece of textile that he assumed were her family's colors. It was a harmonious blend of overlapping green and black squares with silver lines woven in between.
"And how exactly do you wear this?" He mused.
"Usually around my shoulders, usually around dresses at functions or such. It's big enough to wrap around and still hang on my back. And then I fasten it with a brooch, but that's just too much for today, is it?"
He grabbed her hand, and saw a few emotions display on her face, each too quick for him to read, before it settled on a small smile. He led her to the bench, and she sat first, wrapping the tartan around her shoulders. She kept a side of it open and looked at him expectantly.
"Moire, I'm fine, it's not that cold," he assured her. He was lying. The inside of the marquee had been regulated but he was almost shivering out there. She saw right though his bullshit.
"Typical Gryffindor. Get yourself under this before you catch your death."
He obeyed and grabbed the end she was handing him. Surprisingly, the thick piece of fabric was big enough to fit around both their shoulders, only falling slightly short of closing. The both of them shifted a bit as they tried to find a position that would be the most comfortable when it came to sharing the fabric between the two of them.
"It might be better if I – ah –"
James had slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her a bit closer. The tartan now fit comfortably on both of them and Moire looked like a deer trapped in carriage lights.
"I'm sorry. Don't kill me. This is the only way this will fit completely," he squeaked, remembering just how scary the witch he was holding in his arms could be at times.
"No," she replied, her cheeks red. "You're right. This is the best way for this to cover us both."
"Firewhiskey?" He lamely offered.
She took the bottle he offered and drank some before handing it back. Eventually, they took turns sipping from the bottle until it was empty and now James was very buzzed. He was at the perfect state of drunkenness and, as her body relaxed and leaned onto him, he realized that Moire was as well. Soon, the combined effort of the wool, Firewhiskey, and Moire's body heat radiating through her dress were enough to fend off the December cold. They stared at the stars and moon, the distant sound of the music providing a background noise for them, and James was certain he had never been this content in his life. The smell of her bergamot perfume engulfed him, coming both from her and from her garment, and he didn't want to move any time soon.
"Do you want to go back in soon?" The Slytherin whispered, her eyes still looking at the night sky.
"In a little bit."
"That works."
Another silence fell on them.
"Moire?" He asked, breaking it.
"Mhmh?"
"Would you like to dance again when we go back in?"
She looked at him and unconsciously bit her lip, and James wondered again what it would feel like to kiss her, graze her bottom lip with his teeth, and explore every inch of her. Her red lips stretched into what seemed to be the thousandth smile of the day, and answered:
"Yes, I would like that."
This was my favorite chapter to write, and we can all guess why. Just absolute, pure, unrestricted fluff. James is finally realizing that at some point down the line, his fear for Moire turned into attraction and we're here for it. Also, not so subtle hint to my favorite scene in Deathly Hallows Part 1 when George interrupts Harry and Ginny in the kitchen.
Leave a review to let me know what you all thought, and I will see you in the next chapter!
