A/N: Hello all! Thank you for being so patient with this chapter. I have been having some trouble with a hand injury as well as general holiday-time relaxing, so writing has been slower than normal. I'm still a few chapters ahead and should be back to regular weekly posting now. Hope you all had a wonderful holiday season and enjoy this chapter :)

Also, hope you are ready to read about a lot of weddings. This chapter follows the last immediately after but from a different POV. A brief warning: mentions of alcohol and dependency in this chapter.

November 6th, 1999 - Saturday

Parvati is wearing blue. The restriction she had set for him only a few days prior does not extend to her. Her floor-length dress is a royal blue, and her long black hair falls in waves to her hips. She's wearing a crown of gold pinned into the back of her hair, and a delicate chain hangs from her nose piercing to her ear.

Her left-hand holds a shine of gold laced into a complicated lattice design that extends almost to her knuckle, a ruby emerald as the centre setting.

"George," she murmurs, "your family is going to react poorly."

George chuckles, "You didn't need to be a Seer to know that."

Parvati rolls her eyes, but he tucks her hand into the crook of his elbow. He feels strung out; Parvati had practically moved herself in after the moment she declared she had saved his life three days ago. All the alcohol in his flat had mysteriously gone missing, and every moment George had considered going to sneak more she had appeared as if from thin air.

He's never felt worse, though she has kept him supplied in pepper-up potions and hangover remedies.

George finds his way to his family easily — Ron's voice is getting louder as the evening progresses and the alcohol flows.

"Hello mum," George greets, amused at how fast his mother's head turns. Her eyes go wide and get the shine that means she's moments away from tears.

She always looks that way when she looks at him.

"George Weasley," Molly exclaims, "I cannot believe you missed your only sister's wedding."

George grins, "Imagine what she's going to say when she finds out she missed mine?"

Ron, half a goblet of wine at his lips, nearly chokes. "What?"

Although most of the family has met or seen Parvati Patil at some point during all their years at Hogwarts, George still tugs her forward.

"Meet Parvati Weasley," he pats her left hand that is tightening on his bicep, drawing attention to her ring. "My bride."

Parvati sucks in a breath a moment before Molly Weasley bursts into tears. Her hand covers her mouth to hold back the sound, and George watches her extreme reaction. Ron is beside Hannah Abbott and both of them seem surprised.

"It's lovely to officially meet you," His father pulls his expression together long enough to reach forward and shake Parvati's hand. "Welcome to the Weasley family."

Parvati smiles shakily in the face of all the tears and surprise. "Thank you, sir. It's an honour to be here."

George pats her hand again, torn between feeling like a terrible son and amusement. His mother still has tears leaking out of her eyes, though she seems to be calming. Ron steps forward a moment and half-waves at Parvati. "Good to see you here. Glad another Gryffindor joined the ranks."

Parvati laughs, "I suppose it's a welcome change from all the Slytherins."

"George told you about all the matches?" Hannah asks.

Parvati pales for a moment, but George leaps to the rescue. "'Course, I told her. We've been hitched a whole two days. No secrets here."

Ron watches him dubiously, but they are saved from further questioning by the appearance of Ginny from the other side of the tent. Harry is trailing behind her, rather love-struck. Ginny is beaming, happiness radiating from her in a way that is a balm on George's soul.

If there is anything left in this world to be grateful for, it is that Harry and Ginny got matched up.

"George!" Ginny cries and launches herself into his arms to hug him. George wraps her up tightly and does his best not to mess up her hair because any other day in the world he would happily annoy her, but not on this day.

"Ginevra Weasley," he greets, "you're looking well."

Ginny smirks, "That's Ginevra Potter to you."

He snorts, but he can feel a smile coming on. The first in ages. Spontaneously, he reaches out a hand and tugs Harry Potter in and hugs him right over the top of his sister, tangling all their limbs. Gratitude bubbles up inside of him.

"Harry, my condolences on the ol' ball and chain," George mutters.

Harry laughs, "Pretty sure I walked into this one with eyes wide open, but thanks mate."

Ginny rolls her eyes at their words. "Way to make a girl feel the love. Parvati, it's good to see you again."

Parvati nods to Ginny, but Molly has somehow gotten herself together and despite being red-faced, she clears her throat and cuts in, "I'm sorry, Parvati, dear. It wasn't you that has me so upset. It's truly lovely to meet you."

George sniffs, "Blimey, mum, way to make my wife feel welcome."

Parvati elbows him hard, and George frowns at her. Before he can say anything, Ginny's voice interrupts, shrill and shocked.

"Your what?"

"We got married," Parvati half-whispers to her, wiggling her hand to show off her ring.

"George decided to not inform the family," Molly snaps, throwing a death glare at him. He shrugs good-naturedly.

"Blimey, mum, you have like four weddings this week. You'll survive missing one."

Arthur Weasley, bless his soul, clears his throat and says: "We're just glad you're all here. Can I get you a drink?"

George opens his mouth eagerly, but Parvati Patil sniffs demurely and says: "We actually don't drink anymore, but thank you."

George snaps his mouth closed and glares at her. She doesn't even spare him a look.

It does not escape his notice that his mother's expression has warmed infinitely, and Ron is even smiling into his goblet. He sets it to the table behind him and nods at George.

"That's good, mate." He tells him, and George feels warm with his youngest brother's praise. "There's some roast beef if you're hungry, though."

They chat with his family for a few more minutes before they finally lead them to a table for dinner. Parvati sticks close to him, and George avoids the goblet at the end of the table in favour of pumpkin juice. Eventually, a slow song begins and Harry and Ginny go to dance together, Molly and Arther following. Ron offers Hannah a hand and although neither of them seems thrilled, they both make their way to the dance floor.

"That went well, I'd say," George announces when they are alone again.

Parvati snorts, the first unladylike sound he's ever heard her make. "Yeah, that was the exact way little girls dream of meeting their husband's family."

He'd have to be deaf to miss the sarcasm in her tone.

"It'll probably be worse with your family." George intones morosely, stabbing at his Yorkshire pudding.

Parvati laughs at his pain, "Actually, on the contrary. My family already likes you, and they already know we eloped so you have nothing to fear."

"How do they know?" George demands.

"Unlike you, I talk to my parents," Parvati replies, "but also they hardly question my decisions anymore considering I usually know the consequences before anyone else."

George scowls, "Maybe we should have told my parents the whole Seer thing. Then they wouldn't be able to say anything."

Parvati blanches, "No! No, George, I told you—"

"I know," George interrupts gently, "I know. I won't tell them. It's okay. They wouldn't hurt you, Parvati."

"I know," she whispers after a moment, "I do know that. It's the first rule, though — the first thing any seer ever says in any of their teachings or writings. Don't tell anyone."

George stares at her almond eyes and thinks. He's not a stupid man, and he's not naïve, either. He knows exactly how far some people would go to discover the nature of a Seer's power. At best, she'd be executed for her knowledge. At worst, she'd be used and tortured for information.

In the hands of Voldemort, she would have been a weapon of mass destruction, even young and uncontrolled in her powers.

"Why did you tell me?" He asks her. He's wondered before, but in the whirlwind of the last few days and trying to find his footing, he's never asked.

Parvati smiles at him, a dimple flashing on her cheek. "I didn't if you recall. You guessed."

George rolls his eyes, "That hardly counts, you gave me so many clues."

She shrugs good-naturedly, and they both watch the dancing couples on the stage. Parvati looks a bit morose, and he feels guilty for not asking her to dance, though he doubts she would have accepted.

Parvati's hand settles on his arm unexpectedly, "I'm sorry for snapping, earlier."

"It's fine," George answers, half smiling. "I get it. Perhaps you'd let me have a drink as a real apology."

Parvati laughs, "Not for another 3 months and four days."

"What?!" George drops his fork and whirls to face her, "Not even one firewhiskey?"

Parvati frowns, a bit bemused. "Nope. Not a drop."

"So what changes in three months?" George finally asks, curiosity winning out.

She raises one sculpted brow, "Can't tell you."

He flicks his napkin at her, and she laughs. It's nice, having someone to laugh and joke with again. Parvati is funny and beautiful, and perhaps in another life, George would have appreciated her properly. As it is, they're friends, and she seems okay with that.

Better than the alternative, George supposes, watching the way a few of the couples at the wedding are glaring daggers into their soon-to-be or recently wed spouses.

"Oh," Parvati gasps suddenly, "Oh dear."

George is on his feet with his wand drawn instantly, scanning the area for any threats. Parvati has gone pale, but George can't see any reason for it at the wedding.

"Malfoy can't —" Parvati chokes the words out, and George finally realizes she's not seeing something at the wedding. He collapses back into his chair beside her, wand still clenched in his fist.

"C'mon, Parv, talk to me," he tells her, reaching out to grab her hand where it has formed claws.

She flinches at his touch, and a tear spills down her cheek. "Oh. Oh, Malfoy shouldn't drink the champagne. No! George, you'll tell him, won't you? No champagne! Tell him, tell HIM." Her voice is rising in hysteria, and though she has called George's name, she hasn't yet looked away from the candle her eyes have caught upon.

George lets go of her clawed hands and grabs her shoulders, shaking her probably more roughly than he should. Her wide eyes snap to his.

"Stop," he commands, "look at me. Malfoy isn't here. Do we need to get a hold of him right now?"

Parvati is vibrating with tension, her every muscle ready to snap. George gentles his fingers on her shoulders and lets them sweep down her arms, finding her elbows. Her eyes seem to be stuck to his the same way as they had been on the candle.

"Parv, do we need to get Malfoy right now?" George asks again.

She shakes her head. A tear slips down her cheek.

"Do you want to leave?"

She shakes her head again. "No."

They stare at each other, at a bit of an impasse.

George has been exceedingly curious about how Seers work, peppering Parvati with questions over the past few days. She has tried to answer him, though often he doesn't understand the way she explains what she sees. Sometimes, he just hates the answers she gives him.

"I saw Malfoy drinking champagne," she finally exhales. "He was angry. I saw him take a drink from this small crystal flute, and then he was laying in a grave. Hermione was there but wrapped in chains, and we let her lay down in the hole beside him and then we packed it with tiny little stones the size of acorns. Right on top of them."

George swallows hard. "We buried her alive? With Malfoy's corpse?"

"You know it's not so simple," Parvati whispers, "the visions are never straightforward. It doesn't mean that we literally do that."

"But it could," George argues.

Parvati turns her head away, shoulders slumped. She doesn't argue again.

George scans the wedding again, letting his eyes linger on the guests. People have begun leaving slowly, but there's still quite a crowd. Harry Potter's wedding has been one of the most anticipated events of the last decade, and people are jubilant. George watches as his parents dance together, smiling and murmuring to each other, too quiet for any other ears. It's nice — he hasn't seen them like this in so long. It's hard to remember sometimes; the way they were before the war.

It's hard to remember any of them before the war.

Harry is laughing into Ginny's hair as they talk to Andromeda Black, Teddy Lupin running around at their knees. Ron is near them, beaming. Hannah Abbott looks out of place, standing a little too far away to truly be part of the circle.

"That girl," Parvati says, "is cursed."

"Yeah. Ron's a good bloke, but she's been in love with Neville for years."

Parvati swats his arm, drawing his eyes away from Hannah Abbott. His wife looks cross, and George wonders what he could possibly have done to annoy her.

"Not her," Parvati scowls. "I know who Hannah Abbott is, George. That girl, over there. By herself."

As subtly as he can, George looks to where Parvati has tilted her eyes, and he finds Astoria Greengrass. Weasley, now, or so he has been informed.

"That's Astoria. She married my brother Charlie this week. I don't think they're getting along."

Parvati lifts one shoulder in a delicate shrug, her black hair spilling off of her skin. "It doesn't matter. The marriage won't be a long one."

George snaps to attention, "What do you mean? Is the WPG failing? Who is taking it down? Should we fight?"

Parvati stills, her spine going ramrod straight. "I'm so sorry, George."

"What?"

"I'm so sorry," she whispers, "It's not that. I wish it was that. I wish I wouldn't have said anything, this isn't your burden to carry."

"Tell me," he snaps.

Parvati closes her eyes, seeming to focus simply on the feeling of the table under her palm and the weight of his glare. "She's sick. I don't even know her and I can see it from here. It's coiled around her blood, all over her. She probably knows."

George stares hard at Astoria, trying to see what Parvati can see, but it's invisible to his eyes. She looks fine, beautiful even; though she's obviously miserable, staring at the tent flaps as though looking for an escape, even as she sits alone at a table.

He scans the room — though he has yet to meet the Greengrass sisters; he has heard of them from Ron. Charlie had married Astoria only a few days prior, and they had about as much in common as Snape had with Trelawney. Still, Ron had mentioned that the one thing that they did have in common was that they loved their siblings. Wherever Astoria went, Daphne was sure to be.

George finally spots her on the dance floor, wrapped in Percy Weasley's arms. Although they had been matched by the WPG, Ron had mentioned they were actually getting on well and were planning on marrying within the week.

"George," Parvati's voice is hesitant, and he turns back to her. She looks sad.

"What?"

She sighs, "You really promise you won't wear blue?"

"Parv, I swear to you. No blue. Besides, it's not even my colour."

Parvati's smile is barely there. George reaches and takes her hand, running his thumb over her wedding ring. She'd chosen it, and George had been grateful she was making this easy on him. Other than the forced sobriety — that is hell.

"Tell me," he murmurs gently, "tell me what you see when I wear blue."

Parvati goes pale, and George wonders if he should have asked her. She won't talk about it, though. Hasn't mentioned anything about it.

"Your hands," she chokes out.

"You see my hands?"

She nods, staring down at the hand tucked in hers. "Covered in blood. You're staring down at them — screaming at nothing. I see nothing else, I just feel it. So much death. I'm scared, George."

George squeezes her hand. "Well, that's easy. Let's go home and burn everything blue I own."

"Okay," Parvati agrees easily, solemn and watching him. George snorts at her simple acceptance. He wonders if she hates weddings as much as he does.

"Have I mentioned how glad I am that you were okay with eloping? I'd eat my own bloody puking pastilles if I had to attend another one of these."

Parvati lets out a giggle, and George is glad her mood seems to be improving. "Bad news, my sister is marrying Blaise Zabini in two weeks and we're invited."

George groans, "A Slytherin wedding? First, you take my alcohol, and now you take my dignity."

"You didn't have any of that to begin with," Parvati jokes, "and you'll thank me about the drinking, eventually."

George rolls his eyes, "I know they say don't bet against a seer, but Parvati Weasley, I'll bet you ten galleons I never thank you for this torture."

Her smile is a secret over her water glass.