Mulciber Wedding

The elegant Greengrass home is bustling with family, both immediate and distant. The groom's family is naturally present, but the Mulciber's are a mere handful vs. the hundreds of Greengrass family members in attendance. Throughout the manor, there are countless golden hawks in flight while others are tasteful paintings and other works of art in French décor. 

In a tasteful brightly lit chamber, the bride sits in a breathtaking ivory gown. Rosie is alone as she gazes at her reflection in the mirror. She barely recognized the beauty in the mirror holding a bouquet of exquisite white roses. A knock at the door startles her. "Come in."

The door slowly opens to reveal the face of Terry Greengrass. His light-colored hair is elegant and sleek. His hazel eyes are solemn but show genuine joy for his cousin. Over the year, he had grown. And though his face would always be delicate to an extent, it resembled more that of a man.

"Terry," Rosie breathed with joy and relief, "please sit," she motioned to the chair next to her. 

"Of course, Rosie," Terry warmly said as he sat down next to his dearest cousin. "You look beautiful, Rosie. Mulciber is fortunate to have been granted your hand."

A happy flush crept across Rosie's cheeks. "Oh, you, flatterer you."

Glancing around, Terry remarks, "I must admit I am surprised to find you alone."

"I was starting to get a headache and asked everyone to allow me some peace and quiet," Rosie truthfully said.

Terry barely refrained from letting out a snort. He did not think much of his Aunt Phyllis, Rosie's mother. Phyllis preferred her son, Salinger, and daughter, Edna over that of Rosie. A witch of society who is most eager to wed her children to the right sort of people and further increase her rank.

Hiding a sly expression, Terry says, "Edna's marriage to Lycus Rowle has been confirmed has it not?"

"Mm," Rosie frowned prettily, before hesitating. "It is a good match. Lycus Rowle is the new Head of the Rowle Household. Edna's authority would be virtually unquestioned by branch families. There are no in-laws or stepchildren to appease or manage. There is also a sizeable fortune to consider. And though certainly older, Lycus Rowle is by no means ancient."

Rosie's voice trailed off as if uncertain of how to phrase her next words. "However, the marriage is to be swift, there will be no large wedding plans. I know Edna is rather disappointed by this. I know I would be."

Not feeling a trace of pity, Terry folds his arms over his chest. "Well, it is Edna's own fault. She had plenty of suitors and could have easily married. However, no one was ever good enough including your shortly-to-be husband."

Being kind as she was Rosie still felt sad for her sister. Though she could hardly counter her cousins' words. The betrothal was set and there was nothing either of them could do.

"Although, we aren't the only ones doing so," Rosie quietly said. "After the most recent Death Eater attacks along with the vivid reminder of the tragedy of the Malfoy weddings, betrothals and marriages are closed to all except for family. Your own was no exception."

Terry winced at jagged words. He had wanted to host a large official betrothal ceremony now that the courtship between him and Sylvia was over. However, with the death of Sylvia's father less than a year ago, it would simply not be appropriate. A small betrothal dinner was held the day after coming home. It only included his parents and Sylvia's family (her brother and mother).

"I wasn't the only one," Terry sighed. "Tiffany (Toppy) and Sirius (Black's) official betrothal ceremony occurred at St. Mungo's. According to what Tiffany wrote Walburga Black wanted to ensure that the only potential bride for her eldest son would not get cold feet. It wasn't very romantic, to say the least, but at least this time Tiffany chose for herself."

"That Vespucci boy," Rosie clenched her bouquet in anger. "He was terribly underserving of Tiffany! Good riddance I say!"

"I am in complete agreement with you," Terry sagely nodded his head. He had more than once thought about having his cousins help him arrange a permanent accident. However, he did not want to give Tiffany the permanent title of being a Death Bride. It had been the only thing stopping him. 

Terry assesses his lovely cousin. "We haven't had much time to talk, Rosie. Tell me, truly, is Peregrine Mulciber good to you?"

A happy smile appears on Rosie's face. "Yes, Peregrine is most kind to me. As is my mother-in-law, Meredith. She has given me leave to use her first name."

"That is good," Terry sincerely said, before his expression grew more solemn. "The other day father commented that the son of Damian Mulciber has been recognized is that true?"

"You must mean little Edwyn," Rosie fondly recalled the little boy. "I know you are worried, Terry, but he is a good child. He is nothing like Damian."

Terry appears rather unconvinced. "Be as that may, Father had the privilege of meeting the boy. He said there is much more to the boy than initially meets the eye."

Rosie blinks before her face grows firm. "It is not my story to tell. Leave it be, Terry. The child will not pose any harm to me and any children I will bear in the future."

"So, he is half-elf," Terry took a wild stab in the dark carefully observing his cousin's reaction. After all were several distasteful rumors regarding Mulciber Sr. in his youth. And Damian Mulciber had taken after his brute of a father, it would not come as no shock.

Rosie's eyes widen before she controls her expression again. A satisfied expression appeared on Terry's face knowing he had correctly guessed the truth of the matter. He feels much more relaxed knowing this.

"Half-elf or not, you will leave Edwyn alone, Terry is that abundantly clear!" Rosie sternly demanded.

"I was merely curious," Terry showed a sincere expression. "I truly mean the child no harm, Rosie." Indeed, since the child would pose no harm to Rosie's standing in the Mulciber family.

Rosie does not appear to be convinced, but she does not push her cousin for more. She falls silent staring at the bouquet of flowers. She was nervous like all brides on their wedding day. She wondered if this was the correct decision to make, but even if it wasn't, it was much too late to back out now.

"Are you nervous?" Terry interrupted Rosie's perturbed thoughts.

Rosie clenches her bouquet that much tighter. "I-, I will be leaving home after today. It just seems all so very strange to me. I will live in a home away from my mother and father. It seems so illogical, and though I am excited, I am also terribly afraid."

Terry reaches over to grip Rosie's hand. "If Peregrine Mulciber turns out to be as awful as his father, I will gladly bring their house down and take you home, Rosie. You will never be alone."

Moisture gathers in Rosie's eyes as she rapidly blinks so as not to ruin her makeup. Out of all her cousins, it was Terry, who always protected her. As a child, she often used to wish she had been born into her uncle's family. But if she had, Terry would have never been born. And that was a world she would never want to live in.

Before Rosie has a chance to thank Terry for his kind words, a knock is heard at the door. The door opens to reveal Great-grandmother Ethel Greengrass. Their great-grandmother is as beautiful as ever despite her advanced age. Her golden hair is sleek and shiny and fans out despite the lack of a breeze. Her skin is moon bright and her eyes are hypnotic.

"Grandmother," Rosie sniffed rising to her feet as did Terry.

"Granddaughter, there is no need for tears on this joyful day," Ethel Greengrass reached for her great-granddaughter's hand. 

"Have you been keeping my beautiful rose company, Terry?" Ethel asked her beloved great-grandson.

  "I would only do so for the most beautiful of roses," Terry teased.

Rosie flushed at their compliments, turning away causing her tears to be forgotten.

Ethel looked over her great-granddaughter, before saying, "It is time. Your parents await."

Terry elegantly offers the crook of his arm to his cousin and his great-grandmother. The white gloved hand of Rosie accepts as the moon-bright hand of Ethel. The three of them straighten and pass through the doors toward the wedding. It is time for the wedding to commence.