The Red Flowers of Celebration

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

The Red Flowers of Celebration

Saturday 6 July 1985

Diagon Alley, London; Glengarry Parish Church, Invergarry, Inverness-shire; Old Basford, Nottingham.

Rated PG for sexual references.

A/N: I know, I know! There is no church hall attached to Glengarry Parish Church in Invergarry. I confess. I invented it as a plot device. So no Brit-picking about that one. Please?

"The question is," said Hestia, "will the Malfoys be more offended if Ariadne invites them, or if she doesn't?"

"If she doesn't," said Sarah instantly. "It would be gross cruelty to deny them the pleasure of refusing her."

Remus, who was officially buried in his final essay, assumed he wasn't supposed to have overheard that exchange. But the question of whom to offend and how much was setting the tone for the entire wedding.

Once the invitations were owled, Mr and Mrs MacDougal did not speak a word about the unsuitability of the union. They told all their friends how pleased they were that Ariadne was to be married and confined their gentle objections strictly to the manner in which the wedding was to be conducted.

"Darling, I'm believing Madam Bones found it very odd that the invitations were sent in your own name instead of in ours."

"Mamma, were you wanting your name to appear on the invitation? I'm sorry; I did not know."

"Do not be daft dear; a wedding has to keep to the conventions. Otherwise the community begins to believe that something shameful is occurring."

"My dear, have you considered who is to conduct the ceremony? There are only four wizards in Britain who are authorised by the Muggle state to conduct legal weddings, and only one of those is a Nonconformist. Do not let your young man talk you into a secular wedding; be sure to employ the Nonconformist wizard."

"Papa, we have already engaged him."

"Excellent. But I've heard that he's a Baptist. Is he willing to read the Presbyterian ceremony?"

"Darling, did you consider the bridesmaids' dresses? The Macmillan lasses cannot wear pastels, and Letitia cannot wear much else."

"Mamma, Letitia's not intending to come to the wedding. I was thinking that Morag should be the only bridesmaid."

"My dear, did you remember to invite Mr Nott?"

"Papa, we cannot afford a very extensive guest list."

"My dear, no matter what the short-term cost of the wedding, nobody can afford the long-term cost of offending old friends."

Remus noticed, however, that Mr MacDougal did not offer to pay for the short-term costs in question.

Remus didn't want to tell Ariadne that he was worried about the cost of getting married, but of course she ferreted it out of him. She had no qualms about refusing to invite the Macnairs or the Notts or the Parkinsons, but there were other people whom she really did have to invite if she wanted to stay friends with them. They managed to pare the guest list down to sixty names, in full confidence that only forty would accept; but that was still forty mouths to fill.

"Host the reception at afternoon tea-time," advised Hestia, "when no one expects lunch or dinner. Serve only bridge rolls, wedding cake and Butterbeer. And hold it in the church hall, so you don't have to hire a hotel lounge or apply for Portkeys to take you there."

"Mamma is wanting about thirty Galleons' worth of flowers."

"Glenda will give you some from her garden."

"And live chamber music."

"Richard will lend you his stereo and amplifiers and some Classical tapes."

"And an antique satin wedding robe."

"Sarah can use her work connections to find you something to wear."

"And a full choir and organ in the kirk."

"You'll have no control over that. The minister always decides what happens in the church."

Hestia's advice was very sensible, and under her professional guidance there was even a degree of elegance in the "show"; but there was no question that this low-budget elegance was going to make a significant incursion in their savings. The hard-earned Galleons that were supposed to last Remus at least another twenty-four months would now hold out for only twelve.

The day on which the world was to be offended was the first Saturday in July. Remus had handed in his essays, studied for and sat all his exams, and lived through his July Transformation in his garage. Early on Saturday morning he Apparated to the little mock-Gothic church in Invergarry, where Kingsley Shacklebolt was directing operations in the church hall. Ivor was carrying scarlet and gold streamers up a stepladder, and Glenda was tweaking vases of red roses and red carnations. Sarah was spreading butter on two hundred bridge rolls, while Joe was obediently piling on red salmon and Hestia was dealing with the mashed egg. Richard was setting up his stereo, charming it so that it would look wired-in to any passing Muggles.

"Hi, Remus," Kingsley called without ceremony, "come and hold the other end of these streamers. I'm going to blow up balloons."

Remus scanned the milling bodies.

"She isn't here, Remus," said Sarah. "Ariadne slept at Kincarden last night and she isn't allowed to arrive a minute before the ceremony begins. It's supposed to be unlucky for the bride to see the bridegroom before then."

For a sinking moment, he wondered if Ariadne would be kept at Kincarden and not permitted to attend the wedding at all.

"Don't worry," said Sarah. "Do you really think the MacDougals will want to be embarrassed in front of all their friends? They've committed themselves to a wedding, and it had better be perfect. Talking of which, what are you wearing? You can't go to your own wedding in work-robes."

"Sturgis was going to lend me something."

"That's hopeless, Remus, he's a foot taller than you are. You'd be better off borrowing from Richard. No, that's no good, he only has one set of dress-robes. Kingsley... ?"

"The set I outgrew three years ago should fit," Kingsley confirmed. "Remus can keep them as I'll never wear them again. Accio!"

That was an impressive Summoning Charm; in thirty seconds the outgrown dress-robes flew in through the church hall windows, having presumably travelled all the way from London to Inverness-shire. Fortunately the robes were very plain and an inoffensive shade of brown.

"He'll clash with Sturgis," said Sarah darkly.

"No one will be looking at Sturgis," said Hestia.

By the time Remus met Sturgis at the table in the front of the church, he was vainly hoping no one would be looking at him. Their friends had worked hard all morning, had made the best of very little, and the only thing that seemed to be wrong with the wedding was the bridegroom. Ariadne was about to sign her life away, and the congregation was full of people who thoroughly disapproved. Janet MacDougal was already dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief, whether from sorrow, sentimentality or stress he could not tell; Severus Snape was grimly silent in the second row, trying to ignore the crowd of Macmillans who were crammed in beside and behind him; Mrs Pettigrew – the only guest who had been invited solely on Remus's own account – was whispering to Madam Bones what a pity it all was, and Madam Bones gave no sign of disagreeing.

"Could you manage to look like that again, Mr Lupin?" asked Dreadnought Macmillan, clicking a new flash to his camera with a flourish. "Just the thing for the album – anxious bridegroom – will the bride change her mind at the last minute? – is it going to happen at all? Best man soothes, but then wonders if he's forgotten the ring. That's it, guys, perfect picture! And here's Mr Presbyter – we have to have a shot of this, last minute counsel between presbyter and groom. That's it, Preacher, hold the Bible right there!"

Fortunately Dreadnought was willing to be silent once the organ began to play Scotland the Brave. Ariadne entered the church, and Remus forgot that he wasn't supposed to look round. She looked so radiant – dressed in white satin with her hair loose under a crown of white roses – that a great smile split his own face before he could prevent it. Her eyes lighted as soon as she saw him. She must have known that her father was doing his duty with a tragically grave face, but she took no notice. Behind her walked a delighted Morag, carrying red roses and wearing the MacDougal tartan to which Ariadne would never again be entitled. Beside Morag walked the cousin nearest to her own size, kilted in the full red-and-yellow Macmillan regalia and carrying the rings on a black velvet cushion.

Ariadne stood beside him, her eyes so brightly blue that he almost forgot to listen to the minister. All he had to do to keep Ariadne smiling was answer a few easy questions. The minister was indeed reading from the Scottish Prayer Book (the one published in 1645); however, it seemed to Remus that, Baptist or Presbyterian, he was asking the wrong questions. Stripped of the archaic language, the first question was: Do you want this woman to be your wife? That was not at all the same question as: "Do you think you are the most appropriate man to be her husband?" Will you be a loving and faithful husband to her? That was quite different from the more necessary question: "Will your love and fidelity be a nuisance to her five years hence?"

But there was no question in the liturgy that permitted him to voice his doubts. And so he heard himself promising the congregation – promising Ariadne herself – that he would award himself the most beautiful woman in the world and spend the rest of his life indulging in her company. And all Ariadne did was clasp his hands and drink in his words.

She had no doubts. She spoke her vows so clearly and gladly that the female guests wept. The only dry eyes belonged Prudence Macmillan, who was surreptitiously passing pepper imps around her brothers, and Emmeline Vance, who (as she explained afterwards) was at that minute calculating whether she had brought in enough glassware to cover all forty guests.

"I will be a faithful, loving and obedient wife to you... "

Well, that was an inappropriate promise for a teenaged girl to make to a werewolf, but it didn't matter much. He would not, after all, ever give her an order.

It was only when the ceremony ended, the organ struck up, he took her hand for the recessional march, and she automatically laced her fingers through his, that Remus began to acknowledge what he had just done. He had married her. He had surrendered to her misguided adolescent aspiration... No. He had gratified himself. He had stood by without protesting while she fettered herself to a werewolf... because Ariadne herself was the obvious and direct benefit to him. And she was so naïvely happy about it. And he didn't seem to be able to take sober responsibility for his presumption. However wrong he had been to do it, he found himself on the point of laughing. He was now hers.

There was nothing to do in the reception hall, nothing but receive the congratulations and good wishes of their forty guests. All the serving and catering were being shared by Sarah, Hestia, Emmeline and Glenda. Ivor and Dreadnought kept ordering poses and flashing their cameras, but Dreadnought had relaxed and now seemed easily satisfied. Morag jumped up and down, telling everyone who would listen, "This is our wedding day! Aunt 'Radny is married now, and I'm her bridesmaid!"

One by one the guests filed past to speak to Ariadne. Although she never let go of his hand, the crowd seemed to be pulling her further from him, and each guest engaged her deeper in conversation. A few of them even stopped to talk to him.

"Oh, what a day, Remus, what a day," sobbed Mrs Pettigrew, squeezing at his free hand until his bones threatened to break. "It should have been my Peter up there as your best man, are you not thinking? He would have been so proud! Perhaps Peter would have been married himself by now. The blonde in the sapphire robes would have had him, would she not? Or the brunette in the emerald shawl?"

"Who knows whom Peter might have liked if he were here?" Remus hoped he didn't sound too surprised. What did it matter if Mrs Pettigrew had a completely wrong idea about the kind of girl who might have been attracted to poor little Peter?

"Congratulations, Remus, I think you've done well," said Madhav Patil. "She's a very intelligent girl." The words sounded kind and sincere, but Remus found himself noticing that no one had yet stated that Ariadne had done well. Did he look as incongruous beside her as Peter Pettigrew would have looked beside Sarah Webster or Emmeline Vance?

"I just knew it was meant to be." Glenda Chittock was dewy-eyed. "It was obvious from that first day in Perth that you couldn't keep your eyes off her. Doesn't Ariadne look Celtic with her hair loose? I'm wondering if the two of you would come to the Wireless sometime to talk about Ancient Runes and Viking spells... but after the honeymoon, of course. Isn't she just a dream come true?"

Yes, she is. He blandly replied, "In the autumn, perhaps," but uncomfortable thoughts were invading. How far had he over-reached himself today?

William pumped his hand heartily. "Wull fowks call ye Musterrr MacDuggal, Rrremus, now ye've marrr-it young Mustrrress?"

"I think folks will still call me Remus."

William kept pumping until he was dragged away by the combined efforts of Pradeep Patil and Zelly Macmillan, who were both demanding to wrestle.

"Lupin, you must be congratulating yourself profoundly." Snape had chosen his moment nicely; no one else was attending to Remus, or taking the least interest in their conversation. "Your guilty secrets are buried under a veneer of social normality; you've gained connections with all the most respectable Wizarding families; you can soon expect an apothecary's income to bolster your times of idleness; and you'll have a pure-blood virgin in your bed. No man in your condition could dream of doing better."

Ariadne would have known what to say, would have kept up appearances beautifully. It took Remus a long five seconds to think of a reply, by which time Snape had thought up another remark too.

"I know my cousin, Lupin. If she isn't a virgin, you have no one but yourself to blame."

Remus decided that his planned reply to the previous statement should not be modified. "You're right, Severus, I never dreamed of finding a woman of such character."

Ariadne was displaying character now, for she was being harassed by her brother. "You're not needing to let one bad decision ruin your life," Kenneth was saying. "When you're ready for a divorce, your family will stand by you no matter what."

Remus had to revise his impression of the MacDougals as a family who specialised in professional courtesy: Kenneth had evidently failed to profit from his parents' example.

"Cousin Remus, do you not think weddings are entirely boring?" This was Ernie Macmillan, five years old, and now divested of his velvet cushion.

"Perhaps cake would increase the interest," said Remus. "Why don't you ask Miss Dearborn over there if we're allowed to cut the cake yet?"

"No cake!" interrupted Emmeline in mock-horror. "Positively no cake until the speeches are finished!"

"Speeches are utterly boring," complained Ernie.

The speeches were short. Mr MacDougal spoke for three minutes on Ariadne's polite manners, hard work and talent for Potions (he even advertised her shampoo formula) before remarking, "Mr Lupin has shown very good taste today. Let us drink to the long-term prosperity of the bride and groom."

Remus spoke for two minutes, thanking all the guests for coming and proposing a toast to Morag and Ernie "for their great patience in attending grown-up affairs so compliantly."

Sturgis managed five minutes, with moments of genuine humour in his anecdotes about past services that Remus had rendered to the Order of the Phoenix, before toasting the bride's parents and reading the owls. There was a Muggle telegram from the aunt in Canada, a short (and suspiciously formulaic) note of congratulations from Professor Dumbledore, and a (rather saccharine) best-wishes poem from the Cornfoot family.

"There was also a Howler from Letitia Malfoy," Sturgis confided afterwards, "but I managed to open that this morning, before we started."

Finally the toasts were drunk, the cake was cut, the photographs were taken, everyone had shaken hands one more time, and Sturgis called for silence while the bride and groom departed. The guests stood around them in a circle – Snape shooting poisonous glances, Manjula Patil sobbing into a handkerchief, Ernie Macmillan announcing that "standing in circles is completely boring" – while Ariadne placed her hands on Remus's shoulders and looked up into his eyes.

They Disapparated.

Out of habit, he withdrew his hands from her waist as soon as they landed in his living room. For a moment he didn't know what to say.

"Remus, why are you angry?"

"Nothing you want to know."

"Remus. I heard what Severus said to you."

That commanded his attention. "He spoilt your wedding day."

"Is it not nearer the truth to say that he spoilt yours?"

"Ariadne, you couldn't have liked what he said."

"I've become used to the idea that Severus spoils parties. And even for Severus, it was not a very clever insult, was it?"

The anger that he had hardly known he was harbouring began to dissolve. "No. No, I suppose it wasn't."

"Quite unoriginal."

"Entirely lacking in humour value."

"Totally without insight."

"Of no interest to the wider community."

"Not even you could be fooled into believing that his words held any truth."

That stung a little; all Snape had really said was that Ariadne was too good for him, and Remus had been chewing that bitter reality all day long.

Ariadne sighed. "Remus, are you knowing what my cousin Felicity said to me? She said, 'What are you doing with such a good-looking man when you never take the trouble to dress up or flirt?' She was not seriously jealous, but she was surprised. We're friends, and she's not quite sixteen, but she had not expected that I'd do so well for myself." She drooped a little. "It hurt. Felicity's sharp words never mean anything, but today I was not wanting to be reminded that I'm not good enough for you."

"Let's hope Felicity will appreciate you better in future." He hardly noticed that he had taken a step towards her, but her droop seemed to revive when he touched her arm, and the bitter taste in his mouth seemed to doubt itself. "But your brother... Ariadne, I heard what Kenneth said too."

"He was not trying to hide his feelings. Talk about the line calculated to spoil a wedding... I'm thinking I've never lost so much respect for one person in so few seconds." Ariadne's annoyance seemed surprisingly feeble; she had never had much opinion of her brother. "Yet Madam Bones said... Oh, do not be cross about this one; she truly was meaning it kindly... She said, 'Are you quite sure you're happy about this, dear? Your parents have always seemed so determined to settle you down early. Did they pressure you into this marriage?'"

"Well, what does she know?" His other arm was around her now, and the bitter taste was poised to dissolve.

"What are any of them knowing? Remus, that's the point. How many of them took the trouble to find out the truth before they shot out their opinions? And whatever they're maybe wishing, they have not been able to stop it happening. We're married now. And I have to deal with the wolf, and you have to deal with my family. And I'm not glad that I'm dragging all these mean-spirited people into your life, because I'm knowing you deserve so much better. But all our closest friends – the ones who know the most about us – every one of them was truly happy for us."

"All of them?" The words were honey.

"All. My classmates, Emmeline, Aunt and Uncle Macmillan, Sturgis, the Chittocks, the Patils... Even Madam Bones at least accepted my word when I told her that my decision had surprised my parents. All of them are glad about our marriage. There were no exceptions." She did smile then, and her arms crept up around his neck.

"We're married now," he repeated, but he wasn't thinking about his new in-laws.

He pressed his mouth down onto hers, hard.