The ceremony was more marvelous than any of them had expected. Somehow through her excellent connections, Hermione had managed to get her hands on a bucket of butterflies instead of the delivered fireflies and the colorful collection now floated through the room, clinging like jewels to the stems of the hundreds of lanterns hanging far over the heads of the guests. Instead of casting a candlelight-glow, however, the lanterns emitted fluorescence that was very reminiscent of sunlight through a canopy of leaves. From the ceiling, autumn leaves of all colors slowly fluttered towards the ground and disappeared as they got closer and closer to the guests. The long windows lining the walls on both sides of the hall were draped with soft peach and cream curtains through which rays of sunlight streamed in perfect patterns of gold. The soft voices of a veela choir could be heard throughout the room with no source and no end, putting the guests in a semi-mesmerized trance as they walked through the grand wooden doors to take their seats in the rows of chairs placed on either side of the main aisle. Peach and cream ribbons had also been hung from chair to chair to compliment the curtains.

The bridesmaids--Dominique, Rose, Lily and Mol--entered first in gold-and-cream dresses followed by the ring-bearer, Louis, and the flower-girl, Roxanne, who threw white rose-petals with her chubby little hands. The guests collectively 'awwed' as she passed, her red head bowed down and her eyes entirely focused on doing her job correctly. Finally, the bride arrived as the sunlight intensified, throwing the room into the illusion of being out in an autumn forest. Tory looked exquisite wearing her mother's wedding dress--a simple silhouette of pure white that looked radiant against her pale skin, her hair glittering silver and gold, and accompanied by her father who looked rather proud and handsome despite the faint scars covering his face. Rose chanced a glance at Ted and saw him staring at Tory with all the happiness in the world trapped inside his eyes. She grinned as she turned back to Tory who was beaming with pleasure.

"Dearly beloved, we're gathered here today..."

(0)

Rose felt dizzy by the first half hour of the reception. The disadvantage of having so many male cousins was not being able to sit still for more than a minute while music was playing. She laughed as James twirled her around and tugged her back into an embrace to only swing her around again and tip her backwards. "James, I swear I'm going to hurl if you don't let me stop--" She shouted at him breathlessly, smiling so widely that she felt her cheeks hurt all the while.

"Just don't get any of it on my coat--it's not even mine."

"Whose is it?" she asked as he twirled her yet again.

"I have my sources--you need not know!"

She laughed again.

"James, mind eef I cut in?"

They turned to see Guy Delacour-Marks bow deeply. Rose almost groaned out loud and James shot her a helpless look. "Go ahead."

Guy was the epitome of propriety, brought up in the rich society of France. He had taken dance lessons as well as horseback-riding lessons and painting lessons since he was five and much enjoyed long-walks in the moonlight given the right company. Would Rose mind to take a walk with him tonight? Oh, she was not feeling well? That is all right, perhaps later when she was through being thoroughly harassed by all the gentlemen in the room who yearned her attention--which was quite a few, believe him. Did she know that she looked quite exquisite today? The way she wore her hair--pulled back into a simply twisted-bun and studded with small diamonds--it was simply too beautiful for words, although he imagined it might have been even more beautiful down and free to ride the wind as it pleased. She also had what he liked to call a 'forever-young porcelain face'. Even the freckles did not mar her complexion as they easily would ruin anyone else's beauty. As for her intoxicating blue eyes--they reminded him of a poem--

"Beg your pardon, Guy."

Yet another cut-in, but this one was much more favored over Guy who did not quite seem to capture the boundary between complimenting and stomach-turning spouting of praises. "Mum wanted a word with you," Albus told Rose with a remarkably straight face.

"Oh, excellent--do allow me to escort you to ze lovely Mizzuz Weazley, Mizz Rose?" Guy offered her his arm.

"No need," Albus stepped forward quickly and cheerfully. He grabbed Rose's elbow. "I got it!"

Without waiting for a response, he led her away, weaving through the crowd of bouncing and twirling guests. "Albus, thank you so much!" Rose shouted to him. She was met with a typical Potter grin and a wink.

"Anything for you, 'coz. Besides, I don't really trust that kid. Kept asking Lily if she would like to go outside with him even after she turned him down fifty times. James swears that if he sees him around one of you girls one more time, he'll take him out himself and hex him into an oozing slug."

He led her to the drinks table and handed her a glass of punch. She downed it, then pulled her feet out of the heels she had been wearing with a wince. She could feel her blisters getting blisters having been subjected to those monstrosities. "Did you see who's here?" Albus said close to her ear. She shook her head. "McLaggen and his family."

He pointed young Alex out as he danced rather awkwardly with Lily. Rose decided not to say anything as Albus looked just about ready to punch the kid, and instead looked through the rest of the crowd. Niqi was dancing with a young French man with a pointed chin dotted with a slight goatee. She assumed it was her boyfriend of two years, Jean Paul, who was at least five years older than her. Her father had not been very happy with her selection, but Fleur insisted that it was all right as he was French and surely that is an honorable enough title to trust the boy. Louis and Molly were dancing with little Roxanne, taking turns twirling her around and doing the 'twist' with her. Harry and Ginny, and Bill and Fleur were also dancing towards the front of the hall with Teddy and Tory and far to their right was--

The object of her observation turned to look at her at that precise moment and for some odd reason, she held his gaze, raising her chin ever so little. He looked arrogant as ever, wearing a black turtleneck beneath a black coat. His pale blonde hair was somewhat swept to one side, but had been shaken out of order throughout the evening and looked rather wind-swept. She thought she had seen a dimple in his cheek as he laughed with his dance partner, Gwen Yardley, but it disappeared as he looked at her. His jaw gritted into a sculpted line and he turned away from her.

"Yeah, Scorpius is here too," Albus sighed, noticing who she had been looking at. "Mum invited him because--"

"He and Ted are related, yes, I know," Rose cut him off.

"No need to bite my head off about it."

"What?" Rose turned to Albus, feeling rather ashamed. "Oh, I didn't really mean to, it's just... ugh, he annoys me so much."

"Obviously so," Albus replied with a smile. "Don't worry about it. How're your feet feeling? Another dance?"

"Actually, I think they've had enough dancing for the evening--if you drag me out there one more time, I might just have to kill you with these heels I'm wearing and trust me--you don't want to be stabbed by one of these things, they're fatal."

"I'll take your word for it and just be glad that I'm not a girl."

"Albus, don't look now, but there's a girl eyeing you over there--I said don't look!"

Albus grinned at the young blonde and she smiled back. "I guess I've been claimed for the next dance." With that, he walked off back into the dance field. She rolled her eyes and smiled after him. Then, deciding that she needed something cool for her feet, she grabbed her heels in her hand and walked towards the exit into the gardens.

The Matron Witches had not left anything untouched. The fireflies that had been received earlier that morning had been multiplied and set into the gardens--enough for all the trees lining the edges of the gardens to be filled with them. The snow had been cleared from the balcony at the entrance to the gardens, as well as a narrow path that led into the canopy of trees beyond. Small balls of silver were studded throughout the ground, gleaming eerily through the snow, and the sky had been magically enchanted to show a perfect night of sparkling stars decorated with a large crescent-moon. She took a deep breath of the cool air, dropped her shoes on the ground and stepped down from the balcony. Hiking up her skirts slightly, she placed a single foot into the snow. The cold hit her skin, shocking her senses and making her gasp, but she did not mind. She found the sensations to be exhilarating. Carefully, she let her foot sink into the snow, then placed the other one in. Smiling, she stepped through the snow towards the nearest ball of silver. When she reached it, she leaned down and dug her hands through the snow, curious as to what was causing the glow. Her hand grazed something solid but it disappeared beneath her fingers, setting free a stream of silver light that quickly escaped into the night air and dissipated. She grinned.

She turned around, seeking out the next silver orb when her eye caught movement on the balcony. She looked up and stopped. Scorpius had just arrived on the balcony. He also froze, spotting her and almost made to turn around, but then didn't. "Aren't you cold?"

She wanted to say no, but there was only so much that her feet could handle. So, without replying, she rushed out of the snow and into the path again, shaking off the snow from her feet and the edge of her gown.

"After so many years in England, I thought you would know that snow is cold."

"Yes, thank you, no need to point it out to me," she snapped back. He didn't say anything and simply watched her rub her feet against each other to get the last of the snow off of them. His face was cast into shadows by the distant fireflies and the glow of moonlight over their heads. She did not like not being able to see what he was thinking. Then again, she was never able to know what he was thinking in plain daylight. That mask he wore... which he was so famous for. The only thing it let slip by was his arrogance--a constant reminder as to how alike he and his father were. She had seen him interact with other classmates--even Albus to a certain extent--with openness and unguarded cheer and had wondered how correct she was reading his character. And then he would turn to look at her and it was the same cold mask of arrogance and a bit of disgust. She did not care. She had no patience for anyone who insulted her family, especially with no rhyme or reason. Even now, his stillness in the night was just a reminder of the first time they had met on a similar evening in front of Hogwarts.

She longed to just hurry back into the party and ignore his presence. She played out the situation in her mind--just nod or say 'bye' or something and walk right past him. It's not a big deal, she told herself. He would look down his nose at her again and highly disapprove of her behavior but, hey, it was Scorpius Malfoy! Who cares!

Bitterly, she admitted that she cared. He had not spoken a single offensive word to her this evening, even though the snow comment had been marked with sarcasm and not a bit of doubt for the sanity of her mind. If he wasn't being out-right rude, then she had no right to be so herself. She was also one of the hosts of the event, and as such, she had to follow certain etiquette towards her guests. Then there were her parents... she knew she should try to listen to her Mum and improve her relationship with Scorpius, but that was beyond question. There was no looking back now, not when he stood there so silently and not when she could practically feel the animosity coming off of him in waves towards her. So, she'd settle to being un-rude and deal with her own animosity.

"You are not enjoying the reception?"

"It's good," he replied simply.

"Oh." She cleared her throat. "Good."

There was a long, awkward pause during which she contemplated leaving again.

"Would you like your shoes?" He began to lean down to grab the shoes she had discarded upon the balcony.

She shook her head and he straightened again. After some silence, she explained herself, "Heels are not the most pleasant things to wear--especially if they're new."

"I couldn't begin to imagine."

She nodded. He was rather terrible at making conversation, she realized. But she was not helping the matter all that much… She did not care to help the matter and she doubted if he did either. Well, what a failure of an attempt this had been. "You look like you need a break from the party. I'll go back inside."

"Okay," he replied curtly. "Thanks."

"You're welcome."