The Finish Line

[Thom Pettigrew]

@'Hannah Echelon' (or @'Hannah Pettigrew', eeeeeeeeeeee!)

Well, they'd made it through the ceremony without incident. Given the invitees at this particular function, that was actually a bit impressive--the entirety of the massive and ridiculous Echelon-Arnost family was in attendance, as was Thom's previous mistress, but the actual marriage vows had been exchanged in peace and reverent quiet. So they were actually married now, finally... which meant that the crazy relatives or the crazy mistress could set the house on fire during the reception, and the day would still have been a success. Nothing could spoil this, now; they'd arrived. They'd made it. They were safe.

Just as the officiant had pronounced you may kiss the bride, a light drizzle had started, and Thom was glad that he'd taken his mother's and Andromache's advice and put up a ward against the rain. His mother had suggested having the entire thing indoors--since it was, after all, November--but Thom had been quite enamored of the overly-romantic and not-overly-practical idea of getting married next to Hannah's willow tree, the tree that he'd planted at the far edge of the garden after he'd met her, so the porch of the large house was as good a compromise as they could manage. The rain ward worked wonderfully; as the drops hit the magical barrier, they were transformed into little dots of silver glitter, as they floated down like falling leaves onto the guests, endowing them with a sort of fairy-esque appearance. The drizzle had stopped fifteen minutes later, as the guests mingled with champagne and the servants hurriedly cleared the chairs away for those who might wish to enjoy part of the reception on the patio, but the glitter would linger a little longer before it evaporated like the rainwater it had recently been.

They'd be expected back out amongst the crowd in a few minutes, to open the dancing in the hall with their first dance as a couple, and then maybe, if Thom was very lucky, he'd see Hannah a few more times throughout the course of the reception. He knew he would be expected to entertain all sorts of gentlemen--the downside of having such a large guest list, unfortunately--and plenty of young women and grizzled socialites alike would be vying for Hannah's attention. For the time being, though, they had a few minutes of peace and quiet, away from the crowd--there had been a small room prepared as Hannah's changing room on the main level next to the ballroom for exactly this purpose. And, of course, once they'd chased away all the guests, they'd have the rest of their lives.

Thom had been holding her hand ever since you may kiss the bride, and had followed her to this room without much thought, but as soon as they entered and he saw one of the servants standing by he realized that probably hadn't been the intention. This is what came of not participating much in the planning of these sorts of things, he figured. "I suppose you're supposed to change dresses, aren't you?" he said with a frown, still holding on to her hand. "You can't throw me out to the wolves yet, though. What am I supposed to do while you get dressed? My friends will be no help; I think August is drunk already," he speculated--though, to be fair, drunk or quickly-approaching-drunk seemed to be August's normal state of existence when forced to interact with large numbers of his family. "So I'll end up talking to boring people, and it's far too early for that."

  

[Hannah Pettigrew]

You may kiss the bride.

Hannah had waited so long to hear those words, but even as Thom's lips met hers, she couldn't quite believe it. They'd made it. What with all the ugly, jealous letters she had received in the months since their engagement, she'd half expected for some slanderous harpy to appear when the officiant told the guests to speak now or forever hold their peace -- but no. The ceremony had passed without incident, and the pair of them had disappeared hand-in-hand into the country house, man and wife at last.

She hadn't cried during the vows. Some brides did, she knew, but honestly Hannah couldn't think of anything, short of catastrophic dramatics, that would be more embarrassing. How was one supposed to receive all their family and friends afterwards with their skin red and puffy from tears? Besides, she'd had quite enough of crying for several lifetimes. No more tears, she resolved silently as she squeezed Thom's hand. Happiness, forevermore.

The dress she'd chosen for the reception was decidedly more subdued than her wedding gown, but that was to be expected. They were flitting off to their honeymoon afterwards, after all, and traveling would hardly be comfortable if she were dressed in her full regalia. Not to mention whatever was in store for her once they reached their destination... Thom's voice pulled her away from that train of thought.

"Oh, darling," Hannah laughed, "August is nearly always drunk at things like this." She might have taken it personally, if she weren't quite sure she might end up tipsy herself once her many relatives descended upon her in force. At least he had been sober enough to walk her down the aisle for the ceremony, she thought wryly.

"I suppose you can stay for a minute or two," she said, lifting his hand to her lips and planting a soft kiss on his knuckles. "But the sooner I get changed, the sooner we dance, and the sooner we dance, the sooner you can spirit me away from it all." She grinned. She'd been grinning since they'd come inside, she realized, and she wondered briefly if she would ever stop.

  

[Thom Pettigrew]

Thom supposed he wasn't really surprised that August spent family engagements drinking--with a family like August's, Thom would, too--but he had always seemed like the most sober-minded of their little triad, so it was alarming that he would have been drunk already. Leon was Leon, so he was of no help in the way of making sober decisions (even if he hadn't had a drop to drink). Did that mean that Thom had to police himself to ensure he didn't do anything embarrassing? How unfair. This was his party, and he ought to have had the option to get mind-numbingly plastered.

Then again, he thought he'd successfully won some of Hannah's more difficult relatives over during the engagement party, so he shouldn't have too rough of a time of it. Unless she had more difficult relatives hidden away somewhere--which Thom wouldn't be even slightly surprised by. This was the same family that had created Elsbeth, and Sebastian Echelon, and that younger brother of August's who played a passable game as Seeker but had made the unfortunate life error of being friends with Arthur Pettigrew. The fact that he really enjoyed the company of three of them (Hannah, August, and Carrie) was not enough to outweigh the fact that the majority of this family were (maybe literally) insane.

"You say soon," he said, letting go of her hand with some reluctance and flopping down onto a nearby armchair. "But that's a very deceptive word choice. Half of wizarding England is out there, you know--" (Maybe a slight exaggeration but not much) "It'll be a miracle if we get out of here in a few hours."