long overdue
I don't beta, I hardly ever do, so all misspellings and weird turns-of-phrase should be taken with a grain of salt.
* Author’s Note *
The basis of some of the characters contained within this piece of work was a short-lived LiveJoural story group I crazily decided to start back in 2003. (Good Lord that was forever ago) While the game may not have lasted, the characters that were made did, and I love them like my own. Therefore, some of the names you see you might not know unless you were as enmeshed with Sanctuary as the players were. Also, in my prerogative as GM, some of the events of the Harry Potter series have changed due to the inclusion of these PCs. I’ve always been a fan of alternative universes, so I won’t make any apologies for the changes. It’s not like I’m making money off this!
This story owes life to one special person, who knows who she is; I’m grateful for all the role-playing we’ve ever done, especially the bonding between the main protagonists of this piece. Her partner has also always been a great influence to me, and I owe them credit for their enthusiasm that kept the game going for as long as it did. Thank you, both, for being who you are. I can only hope this fic lives up to your standards.
* * *
"You’d think they would have calmed down by now," Sirius noted wryly to George as they stood beside the punch bowl. The reception was still going strong after three hours, and George didn’t really mind. He was keeping an eagle eye on his various nieces and nephews, gone wild as they have under the bride’s encouragement.
Thinking of Luna, George looked up to see her radiant face amidst another knot of cheerful friends, their congratulations visible if not audible over the music playing. She was the last one from the Army to get married, and didn’t seem to mind. Her new husband doted on her, and George knew she deserved that sort of love. He didn’t know Rolf that well, but Ginny’s friendship with Luna - and all the time spent in her company during the hide-and-seek heydays of Dumbledore’s Army - gave George an insight to the bride’s personality.
Actually, one only needed to look at the gown she was wearing to get an idea of what Luna was like. It was as sunny as she was, voluminous layers of light and airy fabric, all various shades of yellow and gold. It was ostentatious, spangled and made George think of fairy princesses. Only Luna would dare, and pull it off so well.
“I think they’re allowed to rambunct a bit.” George replied belatedly, sipping his punch. “They’ll be tuckered out by the time their parents decide to go home.”
Sirius laughed. “Such wise words, for a man who doesn’t have to herd in any children.”
George saluted him with an upraised glass and a broad grin. A minute later he and Sirius were peppered on confetti and glitter as little James and Rose popped some Wizard Crackers by them. Giggles and squeals of joy followed the minute explosions as the children ran off to their respective parents to show off their prizes. The men laughed and took some time to brush most of the debris from themselves, and George regretfully had to discard his punch after discovering a streamer sopping up the liquid in his glass.
“Which of us is next, you think?” he commented to Sirius as he helped himself to more punch.
“Speak for yourself!” Sirius laughed. “I’m going to enjoy bachelorhood while I can. If I have the urge to hear the pitter-pat of little feet, I’ll offer to sit for Harry and Ginny.”
George replied with a smile and nod. Sirius’ freedom was still new to him, and George couldn’t really begrudge the man taking his liberties where he could get them. The Quibbler had spear-headed the campaign to clear Sirius’ name after the War, and the Daily Prophet eventually took up the role as villifier after the Quibbler’s sales sky-rocketed again.
He brushed a hand through his hair, dislodging a small cascade of glitter, then sighed heavily. He’d be raining glitter for a week, no matter how many times he showered. It was simply the perverse nature of the stuff. Sirius shared a commiserating look with him, then excused himself to saunter over to his cousin Andromeda, who was now surrounded with the Order’s children. George took a few moments to watch the small group, sipping his punch as his mind drifted.
He couldn’t begin to imagine what Sirius’ life had been like, all those years in Azkaban, knowing the truth but unable to tell a soul. And then finally escaping, but having to hide because the world at large still thought of you as some mass-murdering psychopath. George didn’t know what he would have done without his family around him, and thinking of how Sirius must’ve felt, cold and alone all that time.
Thoughts of family had him looking through the crowd for his own red-tressed relatives, easily spotted due to that telling hair. There was Ginny, Harry close by as always. Bill and Fleur were on the dance floor, nauseatingly sweet on one another like usual. His mother and father were now with Andromeda and Sirius, Molly radiant in grandmotherly joy. Ron and Hermione were no where to be seen, which made George smirk a little. Far be it for him to question what his little brother did in his free time. Charlie and Percy were off in separate knots; Charlie and Hagrid were catching up, and Percy had managed to get some free time with Kingsley Shacklebolt - leave it to Perce to find a way to talk about work anywhere.
Fred was the last George spotted; his gut settled when he saw his twin and his wife Angelina seated and chatting with some friends. Heavily-pregnant Angelina was being doted on, per usual, and Fred had the slightly confused air of a man still trying to comprehend fatherhood. Sight of his brother always gave George a pause, a moment to take a deep breath and again send thanks up to whatever god watched out for his twin.
No one had expected Fred to survive. The Last Battle had taken many friends and loved ones - all one had to do was look towards little Teddy Lupin to be reminded just was the costs were. The chaos of dueling had been frenetic, and George had lost sight of his brother previously to the attack. Death Eaters had swarmed the school, and the garish light of a hundred spells had been blinding. The cacophony of shouted spells and howls of pain still woke George at nights sometimes.
But nothing erased the sound of Fred’s scream, the slow-motion of seeing his twin falling to the hard stone of the front foyer of Hogwarts. The smug-looking Death Eater poised, wand held high, thinking of the accolades to come for felling a blood-traitor like a Weasley.
George had to set the glass of punch down, shaking his head to clear the memory from his mind’s eye. If Snape hadn’t been there…
He swallowed past the lump in his throat and looked back up to Fred’s laughing face. Everything was all right now. Voldemort and his cronies were gone. The world was at peace for the first time in decades. Everything was all right. It didn’t matter that Fred would never walk again, magic was handy that way. And his spirit hadn’t diminished - or at least, not in the light of day. He was married to a wonderful woman, and expecting his first bundle of joy. The shop was doing splendidly.
His dark mood lifted, George finally turned his attention to some of the people his twin was talking to, just in time for Fred to point his way and say something to a blonde woman who’d been standing with them. She turned, the light fabric of her dress swirling around her hips - George took a moment to appreciate the effect - and his heart jumped into his throat again.
Her pale, pale hair had been elaborately curled, a cascade spilling down one shoulder like a waterfall of gold. The mass was accented with a vibrant green curl; she’d have magic enough to fix it, but had likely gotten used to it by now. He’d always liked her little green braid anyway, a quirk that was hers alone, mistake or not.
She looked so lovely, tall and willowy as she walked across the edge of the dance floor towards him, smiling bright enough to shame the sun. He hadn’t seen her since the occasion in the store, and he’d hidden quickly enough. He didn’t have anywhere to run now, but he didn’t think he could even if he wanted to. He stood rooted to the spot, a sick feeling blossoming under the lump of heart in his chest.
He was freakish. He could make jokes a mile a minute about his war-wound - how many times had his mother crowed his bravery? How many pats on the back? George wasn’t one to berate himself much, either. He accepted the handicap, even made the most jokes about it. Hadn’t Luna even said she’d wanted him to perform the ceremony, because he was the holiest person she knew?
But watching Tanzy come towards him, looking elegant and fine, George couldn’t help but judge himself harshly. He’d grown his hair out to cover the worst of it, earning many appreciative glances at the shop, but he felt awkward now. A gangly, under-aged youth all over again, unworthy of a second appraisal from someone like Tanzy.
She didn’t seem to care, though, and her clear eyes never left his face. People could meet his eyes, but he’d caught plenty glancing towards the side where he should have an ear. Where Dark magic had left him permanently scarred. Her eyes never wavered, and her smile grew all the more cheerful once she was close enough.
George barely felt her arms around him, his own feeling wooden as they reciprocated the greeting hug. The scent of her hair struck him like a blow, and he was remembering the times spent by the lake, laughing and pretending to do History of Magic homework. Happy times, before the darkness. His fondest memories of her, stashed away to occasionally haunt him during his loneliest hours. One of the many girls that had never been.
"Shall we dance?" she asked with a mischievous grin, a light in her eyes he hadn’t seen in years. He didn’t have time to utter a word, his hand taken as she lead to way to the dance floor. It didn’t seem real, but his feet followed her smaller ones easily, willingly, and he forgot about everything else as their arms were around another again. Music dictated their steps as a new song began, and he could do little else but let it take him along, and stare into her eyes.
* Author’s Note *
The basis of some of the characters contained within this piece of work was a short-lived LiveJoural story group I crazily decided to start back in 2003. (Good Lord that was forever ago) While the game may not have lasted, the characters that were made did, and I love them like my own. Therefore, some of the names you see you might not know unless you were as enmeshed with Sanctuary as the players were. Also, in my prerogative as GM, some of the events of the Harry Potter series have changed due to the inclusion of these PCs. I’ve always been a fan of alternative universes, so I won’t make any apologies for the changes. It’s not like I’m making money off this!
This story owes life to one special person, who knows who she is; I’m grateful for all the role-playing we’ve ever done, especially the bonding between the main protagonists of this piece. Her partner has also always been a great influence to me, and I owe them credit for their enthusiasm that kept the game going for as long as it did. Thank you, both, for being who you are. I can only hope this fic lives up to your standards.
* * *
"You’d think they would have calmed down by now," Sirius noted wryly to George as they stood beside the punch bowl. The reception was still going strong after three hours, and George didn’t really mind. He was keeping an eagle eye on his various nieces and nephews, gone wild as they have under the bride’s encouragement.
Thinking of Luna, George looked up to see her radiant face amidst another knot of cheerful friends, their congratulations visible if not audible over the music playing. She was the last one from the Army to get married, and didn’t seem to mind. Her new husband doted on her, and George knew she deserved that sort of love. He didn’t know Rolf that well, but Ginny’s friendship with Luna - and all the time spent in her company during the hide-and-seek heydays of Dumbledore’s Army - gave George an insight to the bride’s personality.
Actually, one only needed to look at the gown she was wearing to get an idea of what Luna was like. It was as sunny as she was, voluminous layers of light and airy fabric, all various shades of yellow and gold. It was ostentatious, spangled and made George think of fairy princesses. Only Luna would dare, and pull it off so well.
“I think they’re allowed to rambunct a bit.” George replied belatedly, sipping his punch. “They’ll be tuckered out by the time their parents decide to go home.”
Sirius laughed. “Such wise words, for a man who doesn’t have to herd in any children.”
George saluted him with an upraised glass and a broad grin. A minute later he and Sirius were peppered on confetti and glitter as little James and Rose popped some Wizard Crackers by them. Giggles and squeals of joy followed the minute explosions as the children ran off to their respective parents to show off their prizes. The men laughed and took some time to brush most of the debris from themselves, and George regretfully had to discard his punch after discovering a streamer sopping up the liquid in his glass.
“Which of us is next, you think?” he commented to Sirius as he helped himself to more punch.
“Speak for yourself!” Sirius laughed. “I’m going to enjoy bachelorhood while I can. If I have the urge to hear the pitter-pat of little feet, I’ll offer to sit for Harry and Ginny.”
George replied with a smile and nod. Sirius’ freedom was still new to him, and George couldn’t really begrudge the man taking his liberties where he could get them. The Quibbler had spear-headed the campaign to clear Sirius’ name after the War, and the Daily Prophet eventually took up the role as villifier after the Quibbler’s sales sky-rocketed again.
He brushed a hand through his hair, dislodging a small cascade of glitter, then sighed heavily. He’d be raining glitter for a week, no matter how many times he showered. It was simply the perverse nature of the stuff. Sirius shared a commiserating look with him, then excused himself to saunter over to his cousin Andromeda, who was now surrounded with the Order’s children. George took a few moments to watch the small group, sipping his punch as his mind drifted.
He couldn’t begin to imagine what Sirius’ life had been like, all those years in Azkaban, knowing the truth but unable to tell a soul. And then finally escaping, but having to hide because the world at large still thought of you as some mass-murdering psychopath. George didn’t know what he would have done without his family around him, and thinking of how Sirius must’ve felt, cold and alone all that time.
Thoughts of family had him looking through the crowd for his own red-tressed relatives, easily spotted due to that telling hair. There was Ginny, Harry close by as always. Bill and Fleur were on the dance floor, nauseatingly sweet on one another like usual. His mother and father were now with Andromeda and Sirius, Molly radiant in grandmotherly joy. Ron and Hermione were no where to be seen, which made George smirk a little. Far be it for him to question what his little brother did in his free time. Charlie and Percy were off in separate knots; Charlie and Hagrid were catching up, and Percy had managed to get some free time with Kingsley Shacklebolt - leave it to Perce to find a way to talk about work anywhere.
Fred was the last George spotted; his gut settled when he saw his twin and his wife Angelina seated and chatting with some friends. Heavily-pregnant Angelina was being doted on, per usual, and Fred had the slightly confused air of a man still trying to comprehend fatherhood. Sight of his brother always gave George a pause, a moment to take a deep breath and again send thanks up to whatever god watched out for his twin.
No one had expected Fred to survive. The Last Battle had taken many friends and loved ones - all one had to do was look towards little Teddy Lupin to be reminded just was the costs were. The chaos of dueling had been frenetic, and George had lost sight of his brother previously to the attack. Death Eaters had swarmed the school, and the garish light of a hundred spells had been blinding. The cacophony of shouted spells and howls of pain still woke George at nights sometimes.
But nothing erased the sound of Fred’s scream, the slow-motion of seeing his twin falling to the hard stone of the front foyer of Hogwarts. The smug-looking Death Eater poised, wand held high, thinking of the accolades to come for felling a blood-traitor like a Weasley.
George had to set the glass of punch down, shaking his head to clear the memory from his mind’s eye. If Snape hadn’t been there…
He swallowed past the lump in his throat and looked back up to Fred’s laughing face. Everything was all right now. Voldemort and his cronies were gone. The world was at peace for the first time in decades. Everything was all right. It didn’t matter that Fred would never walk again, magic was handy that way. And his spirit hadn’t diminished - or at least, not in the light of day. He was married to a wonderful woman, and expecting his first bundle of joy. The shop was doing splendidly.
His dark mood lifted, George finally turned his attention to some of the people his twin was talking to, just in time for Fred to point his way and say something to a blonde woman who’d been standing with them. She turned, the light fabric of her dress swirling around her hips - George took a moment to appreciate the effect - and his heart jumped into his throat again.
Her pale, pale hair had been elaborately curled, a cascade spilling down one shoulder like a waterfall of gold. The mass was accented with a vibrant green curl; she’d have magic enough to fix it, but had likely gotten used to it by now. He’d always liked her little green braid anyway, a quirk that was hers alone, mistake or not.
She looked so lovely, tall and willowy as she walked across the edge of the dance floor towards him, smiling bright enough to shame the sun. He hadn’t seen her since the occasion in the store, and he’d hidden quickly enough. He didn’t have anywhere to run now, but he didn’t think he could even if he wanted to. He stood rooted to the spot, a sick feeling blossoming under the lump of heart in his chest.
He was freakish. He could make jokes a mile a minute about his war-wound - how many times had his mother crowed his bravery? How many pats on the back? George wasn’t one to berate himself much, either. He accepted the handicap, even made the most jokes about it. Hadn’t Luna even said she’d wanted him to perform the ceremony, because he was the holiest person she knew?
But watching Tanzy come towards him, looking elegant and fine, George couldn’t help but judge himself harshly. He’d grown his hair out to cover the worst of it, earning many appreciative glances at the shop, but he felt awkward now. A gangly, under-aged youth all over again, unworthy of a second appraisal from someone like Tanzy.
She didn’t seem to care, though, and her clear eyes never left his face. People could meet his eyes, but he’d caught plenty glancing towards the side where he should have an ear. Where Dark magic had left him permanently scarred. Her eyes never wavered, and her smile grew all the more cheerful once she was close enough.
George barely felt her arms around him, his own feeling wooden as they reciprocated the greeting hug. The scent of her hair struck him like a blow, and he was remembering the times spent by the lake, laughing and pretending to do History of Magic homework. Happy times, before the darkness. His fondest memories of her, stashed away to occasionally haunt him during his loneliest hours. One of the many girls that had never been.
"Shall we dance?" she asked with a mischievous grin, a light in her eyes he hadn’t seen in years. He didn’t have time to utter a word, his hand taken as she lead to way to the dance floor. It didn’t seem real, but his feet followed her smaller ones easily, willingly, and he forgot about everything else as their arms were around another again. Music dictated their steps as a new song began, and he could do little else but let it take him along, and stare into her eyes.