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HRH.
GOOD LUCK. FOOD'S IN THE RED BOX.
xoxo, PRINCESS/GENERAL.
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CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
PROPHETIC PRINCESS/FORBIDDING FAIRY
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"ALL RIGHT, LADS! THE chairs are going over there — no, not there, Merlin's sakes! Under the marquee! Do you expect the guests to sit in the middle of the garden, rather than the pretty marquee? Oh my God — that's the seating plan, take it over there, memorise it, hand it out, don't you dare screw that up, that seating plan took two months to make, do you realise how many family feuds there are amongst the Delacour and Weasley families alone?"
If anything, Briar the Maid of Honour was giving Oliver Wood a run for his money. Ever since the morning of the wedding began, she was shouting commands, having minor stress-related melt-downs every time she locked herself in the bathroom, and rinsing and repeating. Harry was being disguised as the Weasley's cousin Barny, which had been a new thing to the seating plan, which caused another spur of angry swear words because could someone fucking tell me these fucking things, I can't see the whole fucking future in a future crystal fucking ball, fucking hell—
By the afternoon, Briar was ready to go to bed. Forget the fucking wedding. She needed a fucking nap. She was yet to worry about getting ready, and that was whole other problem, but her main concern was the goddamned wedding, because no one else present understood how crucial every piece of the plan was.
Briar had a minor break around three. And by that, she meant that she needed a breather that wasn't angry-crying in a bathroom, before she physically murdered one of the waiters they'd hired. She stood next to Fred, George, and Harry. Barny. Of all the names. Fucking hell. He wasn't a fucking dinosaur.
"When I get married, I won't be bothering with any of this nonsense," Fred began to say, awkwardly pulling at his collar. Briar grimaced and straightened his collar, muttering a series of swear words under her breath. "You can wear what you like, and I'll put a full Body-Bind Curse on Mum until it's over."
Briar sighed. "I'm happy as long as I get to spend thousands of Galleons on another vintage gown—"
"Oh, not this again—"
"I'm just saying, I'm happy with Vegas if I get to wear something vintage and designer," said Briar. Harry was frowning, which wasn't unusual in regards to the conversations he overheard between Briar and most people. Briar still saw herself as she did when she was a little human, dressing up like Sleeping Beauty and truly believing her godfather when he said she was a princess. She never lost the ability to see her own reflection and notice the similarities between herself and her favourite princess. And she didn't mind that, at all.
Briar remembered being six years old, waking up from nightmares about the future and being sent back to sleep with Remus and Laurel reassuring her using comparisons to Sleeping Beauty, because being made to think she was just like Aurora, not Maleficent, made her younger self sleep. But her parents referred to the nightmares, her inner eye, as the evil fairy, which was fine at the time. It only became a problem when her age hit nineteen, when her brain began to settle on the thought of, you're not just the prophetic princess, you're also the forbidding fairy.
That's what made fairy tales different to real life. Sometimes the heroine and the villain have the same blood, the same brain, the same body—
Briar smiled weakly. "I mean, I've got the princess part down," she shrugged. Fred and George scoffed. Harry smiled. "It's the hair. I'd resemble Sleeping Beauty regardless of my clothing."
"I still don't get Sleeping Beauty, though," Fred said.
George nodded. "Yeah, the whole thing was weird."
"You haven't watched it since we were ten!" she let out. She shook her head, clutching the piece of parchment in her hand, the one with the list of everything she had to do before the wedding began. She sighed. "Right. The Delacours should be arriving shortly... Your mum said she wanted to greet them, but then, I still feel like I'm intruding, considering the whole thing with Percy..."
"She wasn't too bad this morning, considering," George mentioned. Nodding, Briar recalled her awkward attempt to stay out of Molly that morning. She wasn't good with crying people. It was the same with her and confrontation. "Cried a bit about Percy not being here, but who wants him? Oh, blimey, brace yourselves — here they come, look."
Briar looked over her shoulder. She moved her hair so it would sit on her back, readjusted her silk shirt, and said, "Right, hopefully Liv can give me some guidance on charisma." She flashed a grin at the twins and Harry, whom blinked at the mention of the deceased Livvy, before she walked off to greet Fleur's family. "Bonjour! I hope that your journey was good — my name is Briar, I'm the maid of honour — feel free to make your way inside — of course, the bride and groom are currently getting ready, and the service will begin as planned later on..."
She smiled at a group of girls that must've been from Fleur's Veela side of the family, because Briar felt they radiated the same sort of beauty that Fleur did. Briar looked over the grounds once more, shouted at a couple of waiters for "dicking around", and walked over to Fred, George, and Harry.
"Right," Briar said. She kissed Fred's cheek, and looked at the three. "I need to check on Fleur, it would be wonderful if you lot could make sure that Fleur's family are doing all right, since you're obviously not going to help out with anything else." Fred and George pulled faces. She raised an eyebrow. "Oh, come off it. You've been standing here for the past hour. Just be nice to them, pretend you're working in your shop. Don't make any dirty jokes, though. And don't annoy them — and don't use complicated words, Fleur's said that a few members of her family struggle with English..."
George remarked, "Maybe they need another Weasley to help them—"
"Don't you dare, Earless," Briar replied.
"I'm only missing one ear," George pointed out. "I think you'll find."
"And I'm missing three charming wizards to go into that kitchen and be nice to Fleur's family whilst I sort out the bride and bridesmaids and myself," Briar muttered. She gave the three of them looks. Fred rolled his eyes, and attempted to do her salute, which the other two laughed and tried to copy. She smiled. "Thank you, dear."
She then found Fleur and the bridesmaids, Ginny and Gabrielle, in one of the bedrooms. Ginny embraced Briar immediately, muttering into her ear, "They keep on talking in French, don't leave me with them," to which Briar smiled and nodded in promise.
Gabrielle greeted Briar, and kissed her cheeks. Briar then hugged Fleur, and complimented her on the wedding dress, which she had probably seen more times than her own scars by this point.
"Your family has arrived downstairs, by the way," Briar told Gabrielle and Fleur. Both nodded excitedly, and Briar changed into her dress. Hers was identical to Gabrielle and Ginny's, only more blue than pink. Briar thought it was pretty. She felt like her mum would gush at the colour of it, being that it was blue.
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After coaching Fleur through Muriel Weasley's instructions on how to properly wear her tiara, Briar went back downstairs, to try and sort out whatever else she could. She was quickly regretting her decision to never drink alcohol again. Whiskey seemed more and more appealing as the seconds went on.
Briar found Fred and George in the kitchen, and sighed in relief. "My boys!" she exclaimed. She hugged them both. "Your auntie's a nightmare."
"Yeah, she told me my ears were lopsided," George nodded. Briar burst into laughter. He glanced at Fred, and added, "Still called me Fred, though."
"Also asked us which one was with the maid of honour," Fred mentioned. Briar smiled smugly, and mockingly tossed her hair over her shoulder. "She said something about your scars, but you know what she's like."
Briar nodded. "She told me I should've worn long sleeves," she shrugged. Wickedly, Briar grinned. "I pointed out the one with Liv's initials on. That shut her up for, like, a minute. Then she complained about what Rita Skeeter said about me in the Prophet, when she thought I was going out with Cedric. Then she might've complained about Cedric, but I stopped listening for a minute... Then she complained about Fleur being French." Briar's lips twisted in slight confusion. Fred scoffed. "Well. I probably have something else to sort out."
"Oh, yeah, I think you've got to stick Auntie Muriel into the broom cupboard—"
She giggled, and shook her head. "You can do that," Briar laughed. "If anything, I bet Fleur would regard that as a wedding present—" She glanced outside. "My lot's about to arrive. I'll see you both in the ceremony, then."
Briar made her way outside, where Laurel, Remus, and Teddy arrived. Teddy ran up to Briar, and Briar picked him up to hug him. "Briar!" he exclaimed. "Your dress is weird."
"It's because I never wear blue," Briar told Teddy.
Teddy said, "Why not? I like blue. Mummy likes blue, too, and Dad—"
"I prefer red," Briar said. She wiggled her eyebrows. Teddy's hair quickly changed to a bright electric blue. She grinned, setting him back down on the floor. "You suit blue, though. Or perhaps yellow—?"
Laurel and Remus exchanged a look. Delighted, Laurel clasped her hands together, and asked, "Is he going to be in Hufflepuff?" Briar nodded. Laurel grinned, and held onto Remus' arm. "Look, Remus! Liv's been Slytherin, you and Briar were Gryffindor, I was Ravenclaw — we got all houses!"
"We're not collecting them, love—"
"But if we were, we would have them all—!"
Teddy seemed to ignore what they were saying. He seemed content not knowing what they were on about. Briar smiled at him, and Teddy smiled back. "You know where you're sitting, Teddy?" she asked.
"No," Teddy frowned.
Remus took Teddy's hand. "Laurel, maybe we should—"
"Ah, yeah, get seated," Laurel nodded. She smiled at Briar. "You look pretty, love. Blue suits you."
Briar remarked, "Sounds fake, but okay."
Laurel rolled her eyes. She hugged Briar, and whispered, "We've just heard from Livvy, he called us on the muggle phone, because they aren't tracing them. He says he wishes you well. He found Aster, they're currently living in Boston. I think they're planning to move to New York City soon, he's excited for that. There's another thing, but that's big news, it's probably best to tell you later on, in private..."
"About Livvy?"
Laurel nodded.
The name June Marvell swirled around.
"I think I might know."
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The ceremony went nice and smoothly, as planned; Briar spent the entirety of the service smiling at Fleur every time she glanced over, but focusing her mind on the near-future. One Death Eater had already murdered one of her best friends. She wasn't having another best friend being murder by another Death Eater.
What was odd, though, was that she managed to accept the deaths occurring on her death date. It was in the same fashion she had predicted James and Lily's deaths — she had gone up to her mum and Sirius, casually said that James and Lily were very hurt and people would be sad because of it, and went back to whatever she had been doing. She couldn't remember exactly.
But, Briar felt like the predictions on her skin had sent her back to when she was younger, and she wasn't quite used to the predictions yet. When she still felt on-edge about them, she was too scared to stop them. She was too young, too. With the bloodquills, she had been scared, she hadn't understood it, and the whole thing still freaked her out. Every little pang of pain she received when she thought about one prediction, or she accidentally touched one too roughly. It still scared her. It was still her spindle wheel — a part of her future, but she wasn't sure of every detail, and she wouldn't know exactly until her body fell to the floor one final time.
Her vision shifted quickly. Blood covered the stone floor around her. The fabric that covered the side of her torso had been ripped away, torn and bloody around the new edges. A dark-red bite mark clung to her torso. Her blonde hair covered her scratched-up face. Her fingernails were bloody from her own—
"Briar."
Briar span around. Fred looked at her oddly. She let out a sigh. "George's already sitting down. I'm guessing you're sitting with Bill and Fleur," he said. Around them, people were sitting in their new seats, now that the marquee had shifted into the reception venue. She nodded. "You alright?"
"Not particularly," she said, quite truthfully. Briar hugged Fred. She stepped backwards, keeping a hold of his hand. Briar smiled. "You know, Freddie, I'm going to miss you."
Fred looked at her oddly. "Well, you can always leave work at weekends and visit then, it was pretty easy last year," he said. He pulled a face. "It might be more difficult, though. But, you know, I'm sure they'll let you." Fred grinned at Briar, taking both of her hands and swinging them. "And if they don't, just sneak out."
"You're a terrible influence," Briar shook her head. He laughed at her. Her eyes landed on one of the waiter's trays, and they lit up slightly at the tray of Firewhiskey. Don't do it, you promised— "Well, Fleur and Bill won't need me for a while. "I should probably go and speak to my lot..." She wiggled her eyebrows. The waiter began to pass them, and she took two of the glasses, handing one to Fred. Only being polite, social drinking, nothing bad... "I'll find you when the dancing starts. Chap, it can make up for the Yule Ball!"
Fred frowned. "I wouldn't say it would make up, I didn't particularly mind the Yule Ball's events—"
"Well, neither did I, but we didn't properly dance, which was a shame," Briar pointed out. She looked around. Her eyes landed on Viktor, and she gasped so suddenly that Fred looked at her in alarm. "Freddie, Viktor's here! The final one in the Tournament quartet!" She grinned at Fred. "I'll see you later, mate."
"I best find George, before he scares a poor Veela by explaining his holy problem," Fred said. Briar nodded in agreement.
The reunion of Briar and Viktor was odd, because they hadn't really been good friends when he was staying at Hogwarts — they talked, mostly because they had a shared love for the faux fur coats Durmstrang rocked, and later spent enough time together with Fleur and Cedric to have jokes. But, when they reunited, they both gave the other a massive hug, asked the other if they had been okay after Cedric and Livvy's passings ("Livvy's passing"), and quickly caught up.
Viktor said he felt a bit odd, being there. Briar told him don't worry, have some Firewhiskey, you can stick around with me if you'd like, I'm just going to see my parents and brother, then I'll most likely be with Fred and George. They'll be nice to you, I swear. Solemnly swear, even. If they were ever pricks to you, it was probably because they saw you as competition against Harry... they didn't particularly like Livvy, or Cedric, or Fleur, not during the tournament. Don't worry, kiddo.
With that, Viktor hugged her again, and said he'd rather just stand around until she went over to the twins. (Which, she was like, fair enough, and promised she wouldn't take long with her family.) (Which, he was like, no, take as much time as possible, and she hugged him and wished she had kept in touch.) (Bless his soul.) (She'd have to remember to tell Livvy to invite Viktor to her funeral.)
Her back stung. Her mind flooded with images of blood, her blood, her dead body, her corpse—
Viktor had already stalked off, sitting down at Harry's table. Barny Weasley, she meant. Briar went to the table Laurel, Remus, and Teddy were sharing. Teddy looked overjoyed with all of the bright lights and loud music. When she sat down, her littlest brother was exclaiming, "The music is so loud, I can feel it!"
"Maybe we should dance in a bit, Teddy," Remus told him, who immediately started to nod in excitement. Briar smiled. "Did Laurel mention, Briar? Livvy—"
"Yeah, when you arrived," Briar nodded.
Laurel explained, "Well, he originally met with Aster in Boston, and they've been going from city to city, depending on their mood, basically." She lowered her voice every time she mentioned a name, or a place. "They first visited Brooklyn early this month. But, Livvy — under the name Oliver Marvell — visited one of the orphanages for magical children. It's all secret there, I don't think they know anything about what's going on here... But, anyway, he helped out that time, and they've returned five times since. I spoke to Aster — he said that Livvy enjoys helping out. He feels bad. Bless him, it wasn't his fault."
"As long as he's okay," Briar said.
Remus said, "It's probably a good thing, though, that the American wizarding community is a lot more concealed. Or enough that it's unharmed by our problem."
"You should answer, the next time Livvy calls," Laurel told Remus. He nodded. She frowned at him. Briar leaned backwards and swiped one of the Firewhiskey glasses off a waiter's tray. "He misses you. And he misses you, Briar. It's just that he calls at random hours — maybe I can get him to call in the day — Remus, you should speak to him, but you need sleep more than I do — and Briar—"
Briar shook her head. She put the empty glass on the table. "Oh, no," she said. "I miss him too much. If I hear his voice, I'll burst into tears and that'll worry him."
Laurel gave Briar a nervous look. Briar figured that Laurel was thinking, oh, but if he returns, it'll be after Voldemort's defeat, and you'll be fucking dead, Briar, you won't speak to him ever again—
"I'm going to find Fred and George," Briar said quickly. She grinned at Teddy. "Yo, bro, find me if Mum and Dad don't want to dance."
Her return to the twins' side came as her graciously hugging both before standing next to them. Fleur and Bill began the dancing, the wedding attendees clapping in tune to the music. Briar felt her worries being fogged up by the glasses she continued to swipe and hide afterwards, acting as if it totally was not her with the minor problem. Problem, she corrected herself. Slightly big problem. Kind-of. Well. Um—
Being the maid of honour and best man, Briar first danced with Charlie, both of which taking it as a massive joke. Laughing ensued. Others began to dance. The two's attempt at dancing together ended in both stepping backwards, laughing too much.
"Another thing you don't see at Vegas," Briar said to Fred. She nodded towards Harry, in disguise, speaking to some random guests. She didn't know who. She knew names, not faces. "Awkward conversations amongst those too chicken to dance."
Fred mentioned, "We won't be having that at ours."
She nodded in agreement. "No strange relatives, no massive ceremony—"
"Just us, my mum shoved into a cupboard, and your weird obsession with muggle clothing—" Fred replied. Briar smiled. He had his arms around her, and she felt content. Although, that might be the alcohol— "And then, they'll be little Remus Arthur, Bella Estelle, and Noelle Hope—"
One good thing about being prophetic, Briar had decided, was the fact that she could make absolute bullshit up, and people would believe her. Could believe her. He believed her. He believed her when she fleshed out personalities for three ideas with first and middle names. He shouldn't have. She couldn't imagine herself with children. She liked them, but she couldn't imagine it. She was used to the idea of dying aged nineteen. She was happy with that idea. She wasn't happy with the image of being forty and worrying about taxes and wrinkles and a fucking mortgage.
But she put up with entertaining the idea. She got away with naming one idea after a future song, Arabella. She got away with Noelle, because apparently that idea would be born on Christmas Day. She got away with naming one idea after their dads, and agreeing to his discussion on which way 'round sounded best. She got away with one idea having her grandma's name as their middle name, one having her mum's middle name as their middle name. The only truth in her visions of the ideas was, no, you can't name one that, they'll have a cousin with the same name.
(That was true. That also pissed her off a little bit. If she was going to be forced into this goddamned idea, she'd like the ideas to have names to do with Sleeping Beauty. Not Heathers, though. She didn't want to imagine a child that was named after a Heather, or Veronica, or J.D.)
She felt bad for thinking all that, though. She felt bad trying to justify to herself that, surely, if she loved him, she'd want to have children with him? But she didn't. She didn't want children. She didn't like the idea of herself, in ten years' time, worrying about kids, rather than her own life. She felt like, if she miraculously survived the war, she wouldn't let herself live. She had grown to become fond of her death. It was going to happen, it was inevitable regardless of age, and she wasn't going to dread it if it would happen no matter if it was during fight or in her sleep, aged seventy.
She hoped her corpse looked peaceful. Pretty. A pretty dead thing. The fragments of her death scared her, but she was interested in how she'd look like, until the worms took away her skin until she was nothing but bone. She wondered if she'd become a ghost, one of the silent ones that wander around Hogwarts but no sees. She'd be immortally pretty, then. Her body wouldn't be, but she would. Hmm...
"C'mon, Bri!"
She was pulled away from her thoughts and back towards the sound of music. She put on a smile. She danced along. She tried to act like she had done during the Yule Ball. But, the more she thought about the Yule Ball, the more she thought about Cedric, the more she only felt happy, because I'll have my best friend back soon! I'll have my godfather back soon! I'll be able to meet James and Lily and Marlene again! I'll be able to greet them, and my dad will have his two best friends back, and—
A Patronus darted between dancing wizards. Slowly, everyone paused, their eyes on the lynx. Briar felt her stomach sinking, her hand already holding onto her wand, her gaze moving towards her parents and youngest brother.
Laurel was already getting up, kissing Remus before exiting the marquee with Teddy in her arms. Briar and Remus shared a look. She knew what was going to happen, another dead thing, another dead thing—
"The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming."
Death Eaters appeared within seconds. Briar was already pushing through the oblivious guests, her scars stinging every time a displayed scar brushed against the fabric of someone's clothing. She ran to where she knew Harry was, where Hermione was standing beside him.
Spells were snapped and curses were dodged and random objects were thrown, because obviously she didn't have any cherry bombs on her. Curses were shouted throughout the marquee. Briar saw one hooded Death Eater raise their wand towards Ron. Her mind blanked. And they thought Livvy would be shit at the Tournament! He did better than I could! I'm better at fighting, not duelling and charming and hexing! Her hand grabbed a fork, which she rammed into the Death Eater's hand before they could say any incantation.
Ron looked alarmed, as the hooded idiot screamed in agony, blood pooling out of their hand. Briar frowned. "Go!"
And he ran to Harry and Hermione, and they vanished.
Briar pulled her hair up. The cherry bomb's back, I guess.
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i'm going to say it now, to warn you for the rest of the story. briar romanticises her death. like, to an unhealthy level. i feel like, if you've gotten this far, you know this already. she's lowkey thought about her own death, and planned it and shit. but, like, from now on, it goes from kind-of odd (if you didn't understand her situation) to really really unhealthy. like, briar suffers a great deal this act. please do not force yourself to read if you're not comfortable with it.