The wedding has since ceased, the ceremony at St. Clementine's lasting roughly an hour. The bride was escorted down the aisle by her stepbrother, Quincey Harker, and father, Vladislaus Dragulia. They gave her away to her husband to be, Francis Pepper, and naturally, their two month old infant, Amelia Pepper, has stolen the show with her cooing. We now find the wedding party and those invited are open to join in the festivities of the evening![/color][/size]

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Roughly 7pm

The wedding dress, inspired by a bygone era, looked dazzling on her to have been a newly minted mother two months prior. Then again, Mia hadn't expanded her stomach size and for that, Gabrielle was extremely grateful for this. The gleaming lights, the table decor simple yet chic, people laughing, some faces all too familiar, some she hadn't really quite placed due to not having seen them in such a long time. To think this would have been her all these years prior seemed to be far from her mind. In fact, Gabrielle was glad to be living in the moment, here and now. Mia was nearby, being held by her stepbrother, fawning over his niece, marveling at the small child. Her mother would have been immensely proud of this - seeing her family reunited, unified over a wedding and child. This pleased Gabrielle in many ways than just the ordinary and honestly could not have been happier on the matter.

Passing the pair for a moment, she leaned in, placing kisses on Quince's cheek and Mia's forehead, grinning as the small hand from her daughter rose to touch her mother's face. "Hello, sweetling. Is Uncle Q being good to you?" "Matter of opinion there, luv. More like is Amelia going to be like her Mum or Dad? As I recall, Mum was a cheeky little girl when she--" "Hush, you. No need to encourage your niece prematurely. . ." she warned with a raised eyebrow and smirk. "Have you had a chance to meet some of your extended family?" Quincey nodded as he continued to cradle Mia.

"Uh, Thack's doing all right and well, there's also the blokes from Fritzville. The one with the obsidian (Quincey grinned while Gabrielle simply eyerolled) waves seems pretty all right. However, that other one - you said it wasn't his dad, but his cousin, right? He's more upper stiffed lip than whatever Grandad Alan was on his worst day. That said, they're charming company, luv. I also like Camille. She seems wonderful. By and by, I admit I'm surprised Vlad showed up."

Gabrielle turned her head in the direction Quincey had mentioned her father's name. He looked seemingly happy among the crowd, but she knew also that the party scene was never something that had ever interested him. However, Gabrielle also knew Vlad was grateful his daughter had finally chosen to settle down. To wed and have a wee bonny lass, as it were. She only could hope he'd retire soon, settle down himself - whether that meant here in England or to take up the residence in the family home in Romania.

"Well, you know the old bat. He likes to swoop in any time his only child has something particularly interesting for him." A coo from her daughter made Gabrielle chuckle. "Yes, that includes you too, my sweet," she replied, looking back to Mia, stroking the soft wafts of hair. "Now, Uncle Quince, be responsible and show you're capable, won't you?" Quincey laughed, kissing his sister's cheek. "Aye aye, cap'n. Hear you loud and clear. Go on now. Be happy and blithe and all that nonsensical, whimsical mush that I deal with every day of my life."

With a hip nudge from Quince, Gabrielle moved away from her brother and in search of her corkscrew haired husband . . .

This day had come at last for Gabrielle and Francis, and what a day it had been. Francis believed Gabrielle was the most beautiful woman in the world, even when she was exhausted from tending to their baby daughter, hair on end, in her oldest clothes, she was glowing. Today, in her chosen dress, she looked like her twenties to the wizard making vows in the church. He was smitten. Entirely. Absolutely.

Seeing Gabrielle’s family mixed among his own, and the Wiltshire house’s garden full of friends beyond them, warmed his already swelling heart. There was plenty of cooing over their newest arrival, for you either loved a baby or avoided them. It appeared they would not be short of babysitters in the years to come, especially if she remained just as cute.

The temptation to scroll back a timeturner and relive this moment again soon was ever so tempting, but he trusted that the memories and the cameras flashing and smoking around the tent would secure memories clear for a lifetime. The alcohol was already fuzzing the very edges of his mind, counteracting the nerves from the ceremony and approaching distant new family.

There was still food to be had around one side of the tent, and the tables were covered in a myriad of sparkling glasses shining in the lights. A wedding cake took centre stage, awaiting the time to be cut as the evening wore on and sugar would be necessary to keep up the dancing.
“Dad,” Tim interrupted, gently patting his father’s elbow. “Time.”

Both his sons were smartly dressed in their suit robes, matching the other ushers who had done a great job at cajoling people to the right places, from Godric’s Hollow church to Wiltshire by apparition, broom or portkey. Allowing Francis and Gabrielle to enjoy their day while taking care of everyone else was the greatest present family could give today, and he was grateful. Speaking of… He caught sight of Johann and Balfour nearby, who had promised to ensure the dancing happened as well as all the impeccable timing throughout the day. Merry on champagne, a more reserved Francis gave them a thumbs up as the music began to change.

It took a moment to find his wife amongst family, and extend his hand.
“Mrs Pepper,” he greeted with a smile that wouldn’t leave his lips today, “May I have this dance?”

Ambrose had re-met some of the most distant Pepper relatives that day. He had found his cheeks pinched, his hair ruffled and his ears buffeted by loud voices. His grandfather, Filius and grandmother had come back from their retirement home in the south of France to be there fore the wedding.

Ambrose and Tim’s grandfather was a wizard, and had taught their father how to make timeturners, but their grandmother was a Muggle who was very much accustomed to wizarding life that it was hardly noticeable she didn’t have a wand. They were both in their 90s now, and their grandfather could barely see, but it didn’t stop him from holding loud conversation with friends and family who he was happy to be reunited with. Even Anthony Musgrave who was attempting to keep a low profile, between equally bottle-thick glasses.

Given all the helping and duties the boys had, they were a bit relieved that their cousin Theta could entertain them, especially as she was their grandfather’s pride and joy as the newest member of the family to craft turners.

Ambrose was equally overjoyed to see his friend Moira McBoid turn up. Moira had stayed with them in Biggleswade one holiday, when her father was poorly, and Ambrose had gone to stay with her up in Scotland, learning about winged horses. They had always got along at school and were both entering careers with animals. The McBoids also got along with the Spectres who were related to Gabrielle’s family. All in all, the wizarding world was always interbred, and weddings like this only served to highlight how many cousins one could end up with in a tent.

“I’ve been asking a hundred questions, because I don’t want to spend weeks and months filing. I want to do some learning and observing on the job too.” Ambrose explained to Moira as Tim made his way over to nudge their dad about the first dance. Moira was one person who would totally understand all the talk from Beast Division. “Sorry I’m totally blathering on. How are the herd, how’s your dad and so? What are your plans this year - are you just helping or are you taking charge of some breeding pairs?”

The music had begun and Ambrose’s father and new step-mother were making their way out onto the enchanted tent’s dancefloor.

“We didn’t put these people through coming to our wedding so why are we wasting a day at theirs?” Had been Miranda’s final mutter as they’d entered the church earlier in the day, she and her husband linked arm in arm, him at least a head taller than her despite the high stilettoed sandals adorning her feet. The ceremony had been long and arduous, causing the witch with a distinctly obvious inability to sit still for periods of time to start tapping her heel on the stone floor and thus elicit a look of disapproval from her husband. Finally, the escape from the church had been a welcome relief with Miranda reaching into her clutch for her cigarettes.

The meal had been, to Miranda’s relief, pleasant if one ignored the company forced upon them at the table. It had appeared that Ignan’s dearest cousin Gabrielle, in all of her excited flurry at wedding planning, had seated them on the same table as Anthony Musgrave, father to Lawrence, the man who’d nearly killed Ignan. At the start of the meal Miranda had been able to hold her tongue for the sake of her husband; but as the wine steadily flowed, she had begun to find it a whole lot harder despite how he seemed to hold nothing in common with the son who’d harassed her.

As the preparations for the first dance began, Miranda stood beside her husband at the bar, arms crossed and watching with mild interest. “Can you think of anything worse than paying for everyone that you know and are related to, to be in one room for an entire day to watch you fawn over the person whom you have just publically committed to be tied to until you die?” She calmly asked the German wizard in a low tone. “Am I missing something?”

“Better be careful, though. They might stick yeh with paperwork anyway fer asking a thousand questions.” That had been the majority of her two week internship over one of the school holidays, anyway.

Moira wasn't sure why but weddings had a tendency to make her uncomfortable, something about everyone sitting and observing two people so in love it was almost disgusting. To be fair, the young witch had never really been in love. Maybe if she ever was one day then she would feel differently.

Wedding RECEPTIONS, on the other hand, were much cozier and all the better if snacks were involved and any enjoyment at such an event was doubled when among friends. When passing by the table Moira had swiped a treat even though it wasn't quite time since the cake wasn't even cut. Ambrose was the only witness as she popped said treat into her mouth.

Waving away his apology about blathering on Moira answered his questions. “Everyone's doing well and Ah cannae say Ah have specific plans at the moment other than helping out. Ah did select a breeding pair ta be put together, though. Assuming nothing happens where Ah have ta leave Ah'll be monitoring the mare along with mah normal duties.”

Looking up when the music started Moira watched as the new couple made their way for the first dance. A little further out she could see her father and Professor Duerr talking and enjoying company.

They had barely made it to the ceremony in the church, having been glad to have been invited at all.  The Westhaven family wasn't a big family, but they were of the pureblood variety and the matriarch thought they had been invited at the last moment mayhaps because someone cancelled or could not make it.  However, they were here now.  Two and one child seated themselves in the back row, too far to be able to hear things, but still able to see.  Emrys looked to his parents and knew that if he started fidgeting, he'd never hear the end of it.  So he sat with his back ramrod straight and even though in his head he was thinking about all the stories his grandfather Andrew had told him of his adventures, his eyes and facial expressions were fixated on the wedding.

Once the ceremony was over, Emrys breathed a sigh of relief.  He hadn't wanted to be there, of course, what 11 year old boy would willingly sit through the ceremony of someone he did not know. However, he was his mother's son, so of course, they had to drag their perfect heir to any function they were invited too.  Maybe now that they weren't in the stuffy church, he could escape for a bit and maybe meet someone his age.

They entered the tent together and found their table, at once his parents began talking to the other occupants of the table and Emrys was able to make his escape.  He'd go back eventually, but surely there were some kids his age here.  Or young people of any age.  He stood against the side of the tent, on the opposite side of where his parents were and looked around.  Everyone seemed to be having fun, he didn't care for dancing though. All those lesson shoved upon him were taxing to say the least.  He wished his Aunt would of been able to come, she would of had some ideas to keep him from being bored.

The music began and the familiar strains of childhood nostalgia filled the air as Francis extended hands to take his wife to the dance floor. Gabrielle's eyes gazed over, smiling wide when she noted her father stepping away from the conductor. The old man still had a heart after all. "I would be deeply honoured to join you, Mr. Pepper. We shall."

Once on the dance floor, Gabrielle moved into a waltz position, hands moving accordingly. "You look marvelously happy, my sweet and darling husband. Not just at the ceremony either....though you were equally as lovely then," Gabrielle remarked, her smile wider than ever before.

"Our families united at long last. Father is happier than I believe he's willing to admit out in the open. I'm sure we'll get it out of him before night's end. Quince is going to have a battle with him if your family, Camille want to dote more on our Mia. That all said - I love you, darling."

Leaning forward to close more of the already closed up space, Gabrielle placed her lips against Francis' momentarily and grinned as their dance resumed for all to see.

Tim delivered the message as intended and trailed back over the corner of the dancefloor to where he had left Akira. Despite their rather odd interaction on the final night of term at the feast, and Ambrose’s terrible proclamation that they were girlfriend and boyfriend, Tim had decided to invite her along. Mentioning that there was sweet things including wedding cake at the reception had seemingly sealed the deal - his fellow Ravenclaw had a real sweet tooth. In fact, Tim had originally not known her name in the first few weeks of their last academic year and just known her as the Ravenclaw-girl-with-the-marshmallows.[1]

“Alright, dancing… then cake cutting.” Tim said as he got back to his schoolmate. “As long as my parents don’t faceplant while they’re dancing I think we’re going to survive the night.” He smiled at Akira and blushed a little. Tim was dressed very smartly in matching outfits with his older brother and some of the family, including his uncle who was the best man. “Well, as long as we keep avoiding Professor Storm.” Tim thumbed towards the bar where the Deputy Headmaster was with his wife, the Head Healer.

“Hang about, I think that’s Emrys!” Tim waved at a familiar face amongst the crowd of the reception. Everyone was beginning to shuffle towards the dancefloor to see the couple’s first dance, and then hopefully join in. He’d seen young Westhaven earlier at church but lost him inbetween with all the family and other adults. Having caught his attention he motioned for Emrys to join them.

“Heya!” Tim greeted his childhood friend, who was a few years younger but often it didn’t matter when you were under ten and your families were friends, “Akira, this is Emrys Westhaven, Em this is Akira Hericho who’s in Ravenclaw with me. Em’s getting sorted this September!” Tim explained in an excited but hushed tone, as the music had got a bit louder and he could see his dad and step mum stepping onto the dancefloor.

1.	Ref: Akira Hericho, personality

“Can you think of anything worse than paying for everyone that you know and are related to, to be in one room for an entire day to watch you fawn over the person whom you have just publicly committed to be tied to until you die?” Miranda asked, with folded arms and a frown on her features.

She had been in an irritable mood all day, exacerbated by the event’s nature, and then who they were seated nearby to. Ignan had managed to bite his tongue about it, never one to truly express what was going on in his head. He was glad to see cousin Gabrielle so happy, and he knew that his presence there meant a lot to her, even if he was not at all the life and soul of a party at his age. Miranda wasn’t all that keen on his cousin either, which didn’t help, but while Ignan tolerated the Carters to a point, she could tolerate his extended family as much as he did, in his books.

Ignan glanced away from looking towards the dancefloor, the music suggesting something was about to happen. His blue eyes refocused on his best friend and he let out an audible hum of thought.
“I prefer it to dying,” he proposed, in reference to earlier that year. Anthony Musgrave’s proximity earlier would have brought it all back to the surface of Miranda’s mind so she wouldn’t need to think hard to understand his reference. The wizard seemed to be pretty much blind along with Francis Pepper’s father, Filius, and kept up a constant conversation between them at dinner while their wives appeared to tolerate each other almost as much as Miranda was tolerating the whole day. Wizarding families were so inter-related in the British Isles, it was not overly surprising on reflection, to run into them.

Their drinks made it over to the other side and Ignan cocked his head towards the dancefloor where Francis and Gabrielle were now out on their own to the adoration of closer friends and family.
“I agree, this is definitely nothing you or I would do.” He empathised with his wife, “though given I never thought I’d marry, life is always full of unlikely outcomes.” He might have said stranger things had happened but Miranda was exactly the sort to quiz him on exactly what those stranger things had been.

He raised his glass to his wife’s and gave the hint of a smile.
“There’ll be dancing, then cutting the cake, and then we may slip off with our blessings to the happy couple,” he outlined, in a tone that suggested Miranda would be present for all of the above. “And we’re free of that old clock.” The couple’s wedding present had actually been for Ignan to gift a clock that had belonged to his late mother - a direct relative of Gabrielle. It didn’t fit in their house and Ignan’s sister Imelda had decided he should take it as she never cared much for it, and had taken the rest of the furniture when their father had passed the other year. Any link back to Amelia Murray was cherished by Gabrielle, even to the point that her newborn daughter was yet another Amelia.

“At least we’re not being asked to babysit.” He added darkly, though Miranda had potential to surprise him and tell him she’d prefer to look after a few months old baby instead of be here. Ignan, conversely would definitely choose a noisy room full of adults than a small human who would not survive without someone’s intervention and continually required feeding and emptying. Hellish.

Emrys was bored out of his mind, he hated all these fancy get-togethers, but at least the two who got hitched looked happy with each other.  Unlike his parents usually. He was pulled out of his musings by a shout from across the way.  He made his way over to the older boy and the girl with him before he realized it was Tim.  They knew each other obviously, mostly cause their families knew each other, but Tim was cool. 

"Hiya Tim." he said before listening to introductions and then because his manners had been drummed into him, he automatically replied with, "Pleasure to meet you Ms. Hericho." and was about to do the whole kiss her hand thing that his mother insisted he do all the time before he caught himself.  Looking about to make sure his parents weren't watching him, he loosed the tie from around his neck just a bit and then began to act like himself.

"This is some party huh?" He looked at Tim, "I honestly can't wait for school to start, my folks are going on and on about how I need to be perfect because I'm their heir and all that, but honestly, I kind of want to get sorted into the opposite house they want me in, just to give my mum a conniption fit."

Shade had made it to the reception with everyone else, but he couldn't bring himself to leave his bike out there all alone.  Okay, so he was being a typical guy with an attachment to his motor vehicle, but he didn't care.  He absolutely loved his bike.   He finally decided to move it under a tree in the yard, hoping that no one minded, and with his beloved bike safely under some shade - with it being a darkish color, maybe they'd overlook it, he headed into the reception.

It was already underway by the time he found his way to the punch bowl.  He grabbed a cup and looked around for the only person he really knew there.  Sure, he knew others by acquaintance status only, but he only came because Monty'd asked him if he wanted to, and really, what else did he have to do other than ride around on his new bike all day.

He finally spotted Monty and headed towards him and almost made it without drawing attention to himself, but at the last moment his foot caught on something and down he went, miraculously not dropping the cup of punch he had when he did.  He got up quickly, brushing himself off with his free hand, and tried to look nonchalant, but he could practically feel the eyes staring at him.  He stopped by Monty's side and asked, "No one saw that did they?"

Akira would of seemed a tiny bit bored but enjoying the reception, not really knowing most of the people at the place meant there was a small problem when it came to talking to people. She wore a rather dark dress being mostly black, it hung down from her shoulders and to her knees, however it had some gentle blue patches on it also and seemed to shimmer like the ocean at night when caught in the light properly. She carried with her a small bag around her arm which at the moment was open revealing a small bag of some sort of muggle sweet, apparently infused with the stars as the name suggested it was a starmix.

When Timothy came back over she smiled and seemed to cheer up, if anything for herself having something to do. "What type of cake even is it? I mean if its coconut then something bad must of happened. No one likes coconut." She replied to him before he called to his friend. Seeing him about to kiss her hand made her slightly nervous, a sigh of relief escaped her when it didn't happen. "Nice to meet you too."

She listened to him talking about going to Hogwarts and nodded softly. "What house are your parents rooting for? I would guess...Slytherin? I'm not great with the whole...magic world stuff. But since nothing much to do at home besides rewatching stuff on TV or playing Zelda more I've been reading up on more history...it just seems like most purebloods want to be in Slytherin..."

“Oh yeah, true,” Ambrose agreed with Moira’s sentiments about the questions.

“Is there any way to make two of them … y’know… get it on?” Ambrose asked, though laughed a little at the notion, “I’m imagining two horses on love potion might be a bit enthusiastic though!” He shook his head. His parents were being soppy on the dancefloor, which was legit since it was their wedding day after all. Ambrose watched on for a moment, wrinkling his nose at it. Thinking about winged horses making foals at the same time was an odd mix.

“Did I mention who I saw the other day, at the Ministry reception thing for newbies?” Ambrose asked, suddenly remembering the incident. “Professor Kesali! Like, I know he was there last night at Hogwarts, just fleetingly, but I didn’t get to speak to him properly and all, but he was there, at the Ministry.” Ambrose was smiling at the memory, “made me feel a bit sorry not to be back to try and do a NEWT in charms, because he’d be teaching it, like.”

“I love you too,” Francis replied, happiness clear from his features. His wife’s gleeful chatter as they went just reflecting her excitement at everyone together. This had been her dream for so long. He was so very glad to be able to make it reality.

They had been practising the steps about the house gently in the weeks since Mia’s arrival, to ensure they were not tripping over each other on the day. Francis only had eyes for Gabrielle as they circled, glad they had chosen a more upbeat song so they could properly dance. As much as this was a display of their love and romance, it was a celebration. The swirling of their movements allowed the wedding dress to lift, details glittering in the light.

He wanted to revisit this memory more than once in years to come, especially when he grew old and rickety. Their dance, their moment. When everything was perfect. The background melding out of focus.

As the tempo picked up, the accompaniment of the band swelling, their families took their cues to begin to join them on the dancefloor, with a ripple of applause from others. Soon they were but one pair amongst many and Francis held Gabrielle ever tighter, bright smile turning into good laughter as they navigated the space, observed and danced round by their best friends.



OOC: Feel free to write your characters joining them in the dance!

“It seems like an exaggerated effort simply to be rid of a clock.” The witch replied as her eyes danced across the dancefloor, following the ‘happy’ couple as they displayed their love for all of the world to see. To see such a closeness in public made the hairs on Mira’s neck stand on edge. It was enough of a push for her to link arms with Ignan when in company, let alone dance and hold one another and stare lovingly into each other’s eyes. Such acts for the benefit of others were beyond her, and fortunately, her husband.

“I would take a week with Katrine over this. She doesn’t pretend to be interested in my life and work for the purpose of a dinner that isn’t awkward.” With a smirk, the witch turned to look up at her husband and took a long sip of wine. “Have I told you yet today how much you now owe me? One day of sickening romance at a wedding is worth at least three dinners at my parents’ house.”

As couples began to flood the dance floor to join the newlyweds, Mrs Storm remained firmly stood by the bar, debating her husband’s reaction if she chose to escape the festivities for a much-needed cigarette and fresh air.