Percy Gets Married

Chapter 52: Percy Gets Married

September 2002

"Absolutely not!" Percy cried, arms folded across his chest. "I will not be moved on this! I refuse to participate if he is involved in any way." He jabbed his finger toward a smirking George.

Bill laughed at his little brother. "Lighten up, Perce," he teased him. "We just want to see you have a good time, is all."

"Fine by me," George retorted, contradicting the eldest Weasley brother. "I have far better things to do with my time. Cleaning out the Pygmy Puff cages would likely be more entertaining anyway."

"You cretins might not care that we've all been banned from Wandwright Memorial Library, but I do!" Percy yelled. His brothers' resultant laughter only served to aggravate him further.

"Who could've predicted Ron would recite 'The Ballad of the Lusty Selkie'... for twenty minutes straight... using a bloody Sonorous Charm... from the top of the second floor balcony?" Charlie barely managed to utter while laughing.

The memory was equally amusing to several other members of the group as well.

George chuckled. "Who could've predicted Ron could read? I was betting he couldn't, and that's why I dared him in the first place!"

"I did what?" Ron asked, a confused and disbelieving smile on his face. "Why am I only hearing about this now?"

Harry snickered. "You don't even know the half of it, mate," he taunted his best friend wickedly.

Ron blanched.

"You nearly ruined his wedding!" Percy snapped, glaring at George exclusively. "I'm surprised Hermione's even speaking to you yet. I'm surprised she didn't hex you into oblivion!"

"We got him to the ceremony dressed and on time!" George protested, pretending to lose his temper as well, just to egg Percy on.

"He could hardly stand!" Percy shrieked.

"It's not my fault he can't hold his Firewhiskey!" George shouted back, milking it.

Bill held up his hands in a gesture urging the two of them to calm down. "You're exaggerating, Perce, as usual. Ron twisted his ankle that night on the steps and hobbled a bit, that's all. Ron and Hermione's wedding was perfectly fine, and you know it."

"George is only yanking your chain," Charlie chimed in.

"I promise we won't force you to do anything you don't want to do," Bill continued. "But if you really don't want to celebrate your last night of bachelorhood...."

"I never said that, exactly," Percy countered, hedging a bit. "I'm simply asking that for once we maintain an air of maturity. Is it really so difficult for you all to behave in public for one night? I just want to do something dignified and decorous for a change."

"Dickish and what, now?" George interrupted, sounding perplexed.

Ron and Harry barely stifled snorts. Charlie chuckled openly. Bill rolled his eyes and cast a warning look at George.

"That's precisely what I'm talking about!" Percy cried, throwing up his hands.

*

The night of the party, all five Weasley brothers and Harry assembled at Mole Hill. The twins and Merrie had just been put to bed for the evening, and Annie was directing the smartly-dressed young men to arrange themselves in front of the large hearth for a portrait. She was standing behind the sofa, pregnant belly resting on the back of it, while she took several photos.

"Let's have one for Molly," she said, and they all smiled warmly with arms around each other's shoulders.

"One for Percy," she said, and they all puffed themselves up into pretentious poses with solemn expressions.

"And one for me," she giggled. Five of the six men pulled faces and flashed offensive hand gestures. The other wore a rueful, exasperated smirk.

Percy then made a show of inspecting their respectably dressy robes. Several minutes later, he declared them all fit for the evening, to his surprise.

"Are you positive there isn't any other way you could manage to suck all the fun out of the evening? Perhaps we could all wear shoes a size too small?" Ron asked, tugging uncomfortably at his collar.

Percy glared at his youngest brother. "If George can suffer in silence, surely you can as well."

"Oh, I'm not sufferin' one bit," George said with a smile, dangling the bait.

Percy glared at him with narrowed, suspicious eyes. "What are you up to?"

George slowly shook his head, setting the hook. "Nothing," he lied unconvincingly on purpose.

"Bill!" Percy warned.

"Relax, Perce. Can't you tell he's only winding you up?" Bill chuckled.

George snickered. "I don't know what you're complaining about, Ron. I'm comfy as a jaybird, myself. I find these robes quite liberating, I must say," he said, sashaying his hips from side to side.

Percy gasped as the realization hit him. "You wouldn't dare!" he hissed.

"When have you ever known me not to dare?" George taunted him in a quiet voice, wearing a diabolical grin.

"I must agree with George," Charlie said, rocking on his heels, folded hands resting on his stomach. "Never realized how nice it feels to be so... unshackled."

"There's a new breeze blowin', that's for sure," Harry added, standing with his hands on his hips, legs shoulder-width apart.

"No!" Percy barked in a high-pitched squeak, careening headlong toward a full-blown hissy. "Absolutely not!"

"What's he complaining about now?" Ron whined, lifting his leg slightly and wiggling his rump as if shaking something loose.

Percy's face began turning an alarming shade of purple. "I cannot believe how utterly infantile you all are!" Percy shouted, nearly apoplectic. "No one sets foot outside this house unless they prove to me they are fully dressed!"

"Proof, you say?" George asked wickedly.

"Proof!" Percy demanded, jabbing a pointing finger an inch away from George's nose.

"Got the camera ready, Annie?" George called out, smiling.

Percy whirled around, a shocked look on his face. "Oh, erm, Annie... I forgot you were here," he stammered.

Meanwhile, five robes flashed open behind him, the resulting breeze of which fluttered Percy's own robes, and Annie's camera clicked. "Got it!" she laughed, then looked apologetically at her flabbergasted brother-in-law. "Sorry, Percy," she said with a smile.

Slowly, reluctantly, Percy turned on his heel to face his brothers. All five men stood before him, robes open, wearing colorful silk boxer briefs and t-shirts emblazoned with a small green toy steam engine and the words, "Percy is a Really Useful Engine."

"I don't know why you never trust me, Perce," Bill said with a laugh.

"You're gonna give yourself a stroke some day if you're not careful," Charlie warned him.

It was nearly midnight when the group found themselves seated at a long table, sipping drinks at the Cauldron. They had eaten dinner earlier in a fancy restaurant in Diagon Alley, as per Percy's request, and on their best behavior throughout. Not a rollicking time, George mused, but still enjoyable. The food was good, anyway.

The unequivocal success of tonight's prank on Percy had restored George's reserves of goodwill to the point he was willing to be cooperative – for the most part. With the exception of ripping off several large belches, he'd been as good as gold, he reckoned. And it was good to spend a few hours with the family all together again. Now that everyone had lives and families of their own, such a thing was becoming rare indeed.

He'd been patiently waiting for a chance to make use of the anthropomorphic little toy train for a whole year now, ever since the twins had discovered the popular Muggle stories and playsets. Annie had helped him find a place that made customizable t-shirts using her computer a few weeks ago, and the idea had blossomed from there. The whole thing had been pulled off to perfection, in his smug opinion. It helped to know he could always count on Percy to take any bait.

He couldn't wait to see that picture! The look on Percy's face was bound to be priceless. Add to that the chance to doctor it up a bit with that gizmo on Annie's computer (Bloody useful things, those Muggle computers!), and the possibilities for entertainment were nearly infinite. Percy would be haunted by that image for years, if George had anything to do with it.

Somewhat tipsy at this point, Percy leaned toward his eldest brother and asked the question that was now burning in his brain. "How did you know Fleur was the one, Bill?" Despite his state of mild inebriation, Percy's expression was intent and serious.

George shook his head. Was it possible Percy was second-guessing his choice of bride? Getting cold feet? He couldn't blame his brother for doing so – if he were faced with the daunting prospect of marrying into that family, he'd be running for the hills. He took another drink as he listened to Bill's answer.

Bill was laughing, though. "When I stopped wondering what other women would be like and started comparing them unfavorably to her. Fleur outshone them all. I knew then I was done messing around and ready to settle."

"I'd hardly call life with a veela settlin' for anything," Ron said, snorting.

Bill looked at him with a glint in his eye. "Gabrielle still asks after you, Ron."

Ron's face lit up with a pleased smile. "She does?"

"Of course not, you git," Bill replied scathingly.

"Shame on you, Ron!" Charlie scolded him as Ron's face fell into a scowl at being duped once again by an elder brother. "I've half a mind to tell Hermione just what a little prick she's married to."

"Somehow, I think she knows the little prick bit all too well, poor girl," George added.

Ron sneered at him as the rest of the table laughed. George mentally patted himself on the back for scoring yet another zinger on his hapless little brother.

"Speaking of the union in question," Percy said with a sly smile, "what about you, Ron? When did you realize Hermione was the one for you?"

Ron shrugged. "Hard to say, really," he stammered.

He's actually blushing!? George marveled to himself. Oh, this is too rich for words! George was practically licking his chops, anticipating making the most of his brother's discomfort.

But his brother's best friend beat him to the punch. "You ruddy fat liar!" Harry cried, exasperated. "It was ages I put up with the two of you, waiting for one of you to grow a pair and make a move. Remember which one of you did? I'll give you a hint: it wasn't the one with a prick."

The table erupted in raucous laughter – even Ron smiled sheepishly. "Shut up, Harry," he laughed. "Took you a bit of time as well, if I remember correctly."

"I had an excuse!" Harry protested. "Her army of older brothers all threatened to kick my arse every time I so much as kissed her on the cheek!"

"Too right," grumbled Bill.

"That's our baby sister, git," Charlie added with a curt nod.

"But when did you know it was Ginny and not anyone else?" Percy asked after all the chests had been properly thumped and Harry had rolled his eyes several times.

Harry grew pensive and the group fell quiet. "Amortentia. Sixth year... in Slughorn's class."

George smiled while the rest of the table remained silent. "You were sitting in a dungeon, high on some potion fumes, when you realized you loved my sister? How very romantic," he said sarcastically. But the true significance of Harry's confession was not lost on any of them, including him. Not that there was any question of Harry's devotion to their sister, but no one was going to argue with Amortentia, either.

Everyone took a few drinks from their glasses or bottles, waiting for the conversation to resume.

Percy sighed. "I shudder to ask, but... George, when did you know Annie was the one?"

George took one more long pull from his bottle as if considering Percy's question. For once, he decided to be openly truthful with his frequent family nemesis. "There was never anyone else, Perce. If you ask her, she'll tell you it was when we were sixteen. And in one sense, she's right. That was when we both finally realized it."

"That was when the hormones kicked in, you mean," Bill teased him.

George shrugged, unable to refute the observation as the memory of the raging frustration of those last two years of school came back to mind. Had anyone at Hogwarts ever been more miserable than he had been during the year and a half after he'd realized he wanted Annie, and she remained so far out of his reach?

"Go on," Percy prodded him. "Maybe it's the mead, but I'm sensing a rare moment of soul-baring honesty approaches."

George stared at the empty bottle in his hand. "The truth of it is... I think I always knew. Maybe even from the moment I met her."

Percy rolled his eyes, not believing a word of it. "At age seven?" he said dismissively.

"Now I'm gonna retch," Ron said, coughing theatrically. "Annie's the only one who would have you, and I can't decide if that makes her a saint or an idiot," he laughed.

The rest of the table chuckled with him, and George smiled. Who am I to argue? he mused. Ron's teasing comment pretty much summed up his own assessment of the situation.

"You have no romance in your soul, little bro," Charlie chided Ron, taking George by surprise. He gave George a tiny wink and the barest of nods. George wasn't sure if that meant he believed him, or was just playing along with what he thought was another joke.

"And you do, I suppose? Hiding out on a mountaintop with a herd of dragons brings out the love poet within, eh, Charlie?" Ron retorted.

"Leave Charlie alone. Even dragons need love, too," Bill scolded him jokingly.

George felt an irresistible, pathological need, an almost biological drive to chime in and heap abuse on his younger brother. "And you should know, Ron. I've seen Hermione when she gets a head of steam on. I reckon she's roasted you alive more than once...."

*

George's temper was set to slow burn. He hadn't quite reached fully outraged... yet. But his companions in the small room recognized the set of his jaw, the look in his eyes, and gave him as wide a berth as possible. They all knew he would rather be anywhere else in the world right now.

The whole thing was just so monumentally stupid. He had never wanted to be here in the first place. Granted, only one of his brothers actually did want to be there, but still, it rankled him more than any of the rest of them, he reckoned. It wasn't until both his mother and wife had joined forces against him – "For the sake of peace in the family," they'd said – that he'd grudgingly agreed to participate in this overblown spectacle of a wedding ceremony.

Audrey was a decent enough person, George knew, but her priorities were seriously out of balance, in his opinion. This ridiculous wedding had been in the planning stages for well over a year and promised to be as pretentious and pompous as possible, as befitting the illustrious Cavendish family's social status.

Of course Percy would have chosen his bride from one of the most snobbish, obnoxious families in wizarding Britain. So elitist even Hogwarts wasn't good enough: the Cavendish children had been educated at home by a series of private tutors. The family's superiority complex didn't descend into outright persecution of the 'lesser' folk – which was pretty much everyone, as far as they were concerned – like so many of the pureblood families had done in recent years. They had not been supporters of You-Know-Who. The Cavendishes weren't exactly "followers," you see.

But then again, they hadn't signed up to fight against him, either. They had decided instead to take an extended holiday to one of the many other Continental estates in their holdings until the unpleasantness blew over. And that sort of attitude didn't sit very well with George. At all.

And then there was Audrey's reaction to their announcement earlier in May that he and Annie were expecting again. "Oh, no! You can't be! What will I do about your dress, Annie? All that planning... and now it won't fit!" Percy's fiancée had cried, utterly distraught.

That had been the last straw. George had refused to participate in the wedding any further.

"She didn't really mean it like that, George," Annie had said to him shortly after, attempting to calm him down. He'd seen that she'd been furious too, though – nearly as much as he'd been. "Some people just can't see beyond their own noses, sometimes," she'd grumbled.

And now, here he was in this bloody room in this bloody outfit with all these bloody people....

George pulled at his collar for the hundredth time that afternoon. Why did they have to be fully dressed an entire hour before the ceremony? And then forced to stand here in this anteroom that was hardly bigger than a broom closet doing nothing but waiting in the meantime? There was no good reason on earth for spending an extended amount of time in dress robes, as far as he could see. He didn't care how much Annie gushed about how good he looked in them – he felt like he was wearing a straitjacket.

Finally, someone came to collect them. The groomsmen lined themselves up in order of tallest to shortest: yet another stupid idea seemingly conjured up purely for his irritation. Not only was he reminded that Ron had shot a few inches taller than him in the years since school (Seriously, how is it that the little freak could still be growing?), but because the bride's cortege was aligned similarly, it meant that only Bill would be escorting his own wife down the aisle. George would be stuck with his sister, Ginny, instead. It was all so very bloody ridiculous.

Musicians numbering nearly a full orchestra, with a choir of boys in accompaniment, began playing and singing as they slowly marched down the interminable aisle, one couple at a time, while George fumed. Of course this torture must be extended for as long as possible, extracting every last minute, draining the last drop of enjoyment from the attendees' lives. Bill and Fleur went first, then Ron and Audrey's sister, Aurelia (There's a piece of work. That cow's lucky someone hasn't wrung her neck by now.). He wanted nothing more at this moment than to throttle someone, preferably Percy.

As Ginny walked slowly toward him from the far side of the room, and they met at the middle of the aisle, he could tell by her expression that she was feeling aggravated as well. George smiled slightly as he contemplated what the mood must have been like in the bridal waiting room. Yes, he imagined Audrey's domineering behavior would have ensured that every one of her attendants was abjectly miserable and likely plotting grievous bodily harm.

He and Ginny reached the area in front of the audience, bowed to each other while pulling faces and sticking out their tongues (Take that, Audrey!), then took their respective places flanking the bridal 'stage,' which was elevated above the rest to ensure the audience had a proper view of the bride's backside. As if anyone would be confused as to who was supposed to be the center of attention today.

George ground his teeth as Charlie began the long walk toward him with Hermione on his arm. Then he looked up at the ceiling in impatient frustration. He had to squint from the glare of several hundred floating candles there.

He thought back to the weddings of last summer: his younger brother and sister had finally tied the inevitable knots with Hermione and Harry, who had been Weasleys for years already in every other sense. Both had been small affairs (Anything would be small compared to this monstrosity. How does anyone even know four hundred people?). George had been mildly surprised by only one thing: it hadn't been a double wedding. Ron and Hermione's wedding had come first by about eight weeks. "Maybe Hermione finally put her foot down and made Ron do something apart from Harry," he had said jokingly to Annie at the time.

The furor over the great Harry Potter's wedding had been rather amusing, as well. The witches and wizards of Britain apparently considered Harry, as their savior and hero, to be owing them something further when it came to his nuptials. There had been a small but vocal minority that clamored for his wedding to be an official state occasion, with articles and letters to that effect having been plastered all over the Daily Prophet for a month. Harry and Ginny threatened to leave the country if that were the case, but were finally convinced that with enough security, they could marry quietly enough in the Weasley orchard, with guests limited to family and select friends and Order members patrolling the perimeter. What an entertaining show that had been! At least a dozen people had been booted unceremoniously off the property, enhancing George's enjoyment of the happy event immensely.

Of course, no wedding could compare to his own. Five minutes, six people, and the result had been that Annie was his wife forever. He pitied the poor idiots, including himself, who were forced to endure this one.

At last, the final attendant couple came into view. Harry and Annie met at the far end of the aisle. George finally saw his wife for the first time since they'd parted hours ago as she turned and walked toward him on Harry's arm. Lucky effing bastard, he thought with a sigh.

He had seen the gown before on its hanger and had even touched the soft velvet and satin as he carried it for her while they'd traveled here (What idiot dresses everyone at a summer wedding in black velvet, anyway?). During their forced separation of this afternoon, however, it had been transformed into a thing of true beauty. On the other attendants, the same gown had hung loosely in large billows, shapelessly fluttering to the floor as they walked – the better to show off Audrey's figure in contrast, he could only assume. But on Annie, the satin band folded enticingly around her generous cleavage, and the black velvet draped down her body, clinging to her swollen belly – the current but temporary home of their fourth child. The golden skin of her bare arms and shoulders was positively glowing in the candlelight of the cavernous room. Her short hair was pulled back from her face by three thin, glittering bands around her head, but several curls had escaped and now fluttered around her forehead and cheekbones.

Okay, he had to admit it: here was a redeeming moment in this otherwise pointless endeavor. Annie was a vision. He smiled as she winked conspiratorially at him during her bow to Harry, flashing a luscious view of cleavage George desperately wanted to pretend no one else saw but him.

Next, George's twin sons, decked out in miniature versions of his own torturous dress robes, marched solemnly down the aisle carrying satin pillows with the rings atop. His heart went out to them. Poor little chaps! What four-year-old deserves to look that ridiculous? Percy will pay for this, George swore under his breath once more, but gave his sons an encouraging wink and smile despite the smoldering anger inside himself.

They went to stand by their Aunt Fleur and Uncle Bill.

George looked into the audience, scanning it for a sight of his parents. He found them in the front row, his mother and father sitting uncomfortably with forced smiles. It was obvious they felt completely out of their element, surrounded by all this pomposity and formal luxury, as did the rest of the family.

Baby Merrie (Well, toddler now, actually, he admitted.) was fast asleep on her grandmother's lap. That was the only reasonable way to spend this time, he figured, and George was envious of his daughter. Bill's little Dominique was even luckier: she'd gotten to stay at home at Shell Cottage with her maternal grandparents visiting from France.

George sighed wistfully at the thought of his cool, comfortable home waiting for him in Devon. Please, please, let this be over soon, he prayed.

Finally, his niece, Victoire – looking like nothing so much as a meringue – toddled down the runway, pitching flower petals and fairies out of a silly basket.

George was rapidly reaching his limit and bit his lip. The bloody procession alone had taken thirty minutes!

Then the music changed, and the only two people who actually needed to be present finally made their entrances. Yes, he conceded, Audrey looked nice in her pretty white dress, if you went for that sort of thing. And Percy looked excited, and pleased, and... well... happy. Maybe I'm overreacting a bit, he considered. Who of us doesn't deserve some happiness? As long as this is what Percy wants....

But then George was reminded that his feet were hurting in his dress shoes, and he shifted his weight. He swallowed and felt choked by the neckline of the dress shirt and tie. Every muscle in his arms and shoulders craved the opportunity to flex and rip the constricting seams of the hot, heavy velvet he was encased in. The grumpy, smoldering feeling began to return.

He glanced over at Annie, who he discovered was trying to hide the fact that she was standing on one leg, flexing and shaking the other foot, then proceeded to do the same for the first.

That was it: the limit of his patience had just been reached. His pregnant wife was clearly uncomfortable, and that was something he refused to tolerate. He wouldn't make a scene at the moment, but they were leaving as soon as the ceremony was over. Family peace be damned!

No less than forty-five minutes later – George was silently screaming in frustrated fury by then – the ceremony had unmercifully concluded, and the entire wedding party had been directed to assemble in a large sitting room off the ballroom where the reception feast was to take place. George had disengaged Ginny from his arm and waited at the head of the aisle, rather than following Ron and Aurelia like a bloody mindless sheep. As soon as Annie cleared the aisle, he scooped his wife into his arms and carried her into the waiting room, setting her gently on a sofa (More velvet? Merlin's beard, it was everywhere in this bloody house!). She smiled and giggled when he did it, but didn't protest or resist, either. He thought her eyes looked tired.

"I'm going to get Merrie, and then we're leaving," he informed her, whispering through clenched teeth in an attempt to avoid screaming. "Stay with your mum, boys," he charged them as he marched out of the room.

The slam of the door caught Audrey's attention. "What was that? Did somebody leave? We have to wait here until the guests are seated for the reception, then make our entrance. We rehearsed this, Percy!" she barked, exasperated.

Annie bit her tongue as she slipped her aching feet out of her shoes. Don't make this harder than it has to be, she steeled herself.

The twins snuggled themselves against her body, trying to get comfortable around her belly, using it as a pillow. It was hours past their bedtime at this point, and they were dead on their feet. She had promised Molly to do what she could tonight, keeping George in check, but Annie was exhausted and tapped out of patience herself.

It had been something out of a nightmare: wrestling the twins into their dress robes, chasing after them while they'd been cooped up for so long in that room with all the other increasingly sullen female attendants, not to mention blasted Audrey herself, before the ceremony. She agreed with her husband: they had done their familial duty, participated in the important (Annie snorted silently to herself at the word) part of the event, and deserved to be excused from the rest of it, in her opinion.

George was back five minutes later with their sleeping daughter in his arms. He passed her gently to Annie, then roughly struggled out of his fancy jacket. Annie giggled as she heard a seam rip and meanwhile, gently and one-handedly, helped her sons to do the same with far less damage to their clothing.

George then strode purposefully over to the newlyweds. "Congratulations. Lovely ceremony. Very moving. Unfortunately, we can't stay any longer. The kids and Annie are exhausted, you understand. Best wishes, bon voyage, and see you soon." George barely kept himself civil, and Annie appreciated the effort he was expending by not punching something or someone, running one hand through his hair and shoving the other deep into his trouser pocket instead.

"But you can't leave now!" whined Audrey. "What will people think? You're Percy's brother! You're supposed to...."

"Audrey, it's enough. Let him go," Percy warned his bride in a stern voice, who began to pout. He turned to George, holding out his hand to shake. "Thanks for coming, George. I know it was a sacrifice for you, and I appreciate it."

Startled, George looked at his brother with a portion of newfound respect and appreciation, tempered with a little bit of embarrassment for his own childish attitude, as he shook his proffered hand. "Not a sacrifice, Percy, really. But the kids... and Annie.... It's just too much for them," George stammered in explanation.

"No worries. We'll have you over for a visit once we're back from the honeymoon trip," Percy assured him.

"Sure. See you then," George replied.

George turned away, picked up his sons in his arms, and strolled out of the room. He felt a bit guilty about leaving now, but not enough so to stay any longer, that was for certain. Annie followed him silently in her bare feet, Merrie still mercifully asleep in her arms, high-heeled sandals dangling from one hand.

Most of the rest of the wedding party mumbled their own goodbyes, eyeing them enviously. George chuckled, predicting Audrey would have a mutiny on her hands within two hours, tops. With any luck, he would be fast asleep in his own bed by then.