i just think gojo is def a wedding person. finds himself thinking about it every once in a while. he doesn't know can he afford himself the luxury to do so, but still likes it anyway. he would like to wear a white suit, complete with red soles, and maybe even have an outfit change for the dinner. he thinks orchids would be lovely and would prefer a spring wedding outside. he thinks gold and green would be good accent colours and he would like a big dancefloor with live music. chocolate fountain is a must and the five tiered white cake with the happy couple figurines on top. a champagne tower and multiple photographers and the fanciest dishes from the best chefs in the world. thinking about the best man pains him, but he wonders what would his future spouse be like. are they from a culture with different wedding traditions? what if they have imagined something completely different for their wedding? will they be shocked to hear how much thought he put into this? what if they dont want a wedding at all? will that be the thing to break them apart? he thinks that might be thinking too far ahead. for now, he can think about the simpler things, like his side of the seating chart, and how he hopes it doesn't keep going down his every waking day.
Bill had been appointed to save Percy from himself, and he was a bit too smug in explaining as much.
Percy told him to piss off.
Bill replied, calmly, that if Percy made any attempt to leave the room, Bill would turn him into a hedgehog and might not set him right until well after the ceremony.
Percy pointed out they were all adults here and did Bill really expect him to believe that?
Bill summoned backup.
“Charlie, what’ll we do to Percydear if he doesn’t sit down and shut his gob?”
Charlie’s eyes lit up, and he was far too excited as he repeated Bill’s threat, adding, “Oh, but don’t worry, mate — we’ll give you a little hat, you’ll be so smart.”
Percy sat down.
The terms were excessive, and the rules quite unfair.
Under no circumstances was he to continue his harassment of: the caterer, the florist, the officiant, the musicians, Hermione, Ginny, Mrs. Weasley (this was saying something), or Audrey’s sister.
Percy was then admonished that each time he enquired about preparations, asked Bill to triple-check that he had the rings, or assessed his hair in the mirror again, he’d have to take a shot — and if he wound up incapable of staying upright at his own wedding, he’d have only himself to blame.
So Percy sulked, whilst Bill twirled his wand between his fingers and sipped a glass of whiskey; Percy had hardly touched his own.
“Am I permitted something to read?” he asked sarcastically, ten minutes into this. “Only I’ve already named all fifty-two magical elements in my head, and done all of the Ministers for Magic and the seventy-eight Caveats and Exemptions to Gristlegnash’s Law, and I’m getting a bit bored.”
Bill obliged by picking up a newspaper from the table. But rather than delivering it into Percy’s outstretched hand, he skimmed through and selected one page — which he then tore in half, offering the top half to Percy.
“Really?” Percy stared at the article deemed low-stress enough for him to read (Kneazle Captures Snitch at Tutshill-Appleby Match; No-One Notices for Eight Hours). He tossed it aside as Bill perused the others.
“Can someone at least check that Audrey’s getting on all right?” Percy negotiated.
“Audrey’s fine.”
“How would you know?”
“Because she’s not a nutter like you.”
Percy scowled.
“You know,” said Bill fairly, setting aside the paper, “in the end you’re going to be married and you won’t remember any of” — he waved his hand vaguely — “this shit.”
“I will if it’s cocked up.”
“Hmm. True, I had a few snags at my own wedding — still think about that from time to time.”
Percy crossed his arms and gave no reply; none of the (many, many) logistical horrors he could dream up were any match for ‘Death Eaters invaded my nuptials and then Ron disappeared for half a year.’
Percy was marched in the style of a prisoner to the ceremony spot, Bill’s hand firm on his shoulder and a “Keep walking!” for good measure when Percy tried to turn towards the sound of champagne glasses breaking in the kitchen.
The cake looked a bit unlevel, and the elegant lines of flowers along the aisle had already been disturbed in a few spots, and just as he took his place at the altar he noticed a scuff on the toe of his right shoe.
The music started a minute too early, precipitating an awkward moment of anticipation during which nothing happened. Audrey’s sister started up the aisle smoothing her hair and wiping at a bit of smeared lipstick. The officiant sneezed. Percy looked down at the scuff on his shoe.
Then he looked up — and forgot how to breathe.
Audrey was luminous in a dress that couldn’t seem to decide whether it was ivory or pink or gold, her hair curled and pinned back with so many flowers.
He caught the way she bit her lip, her self-conscious eyes taking in the crowd. She’d wanted the tradition just as much as he did but still didn’t fancy seeing so many people looking at her.
“I’ll just have to look at you, then,” she’d resolved — and that was just what she did, her brow lifting and a slow smile overtaking her when her eyes found his and he held them there.
Beside him, Bill cleared his throat, hand obscuring his mouth as he muttered, “Pick your tongue up off the floor.”
Percy blinked and shut his slack-jawed mouth.
It hadn’t felt real until this moment. Which was strange, considering it also felt like it couldn’t possibly be happening.
It wasn’t just that she was lovely — lace skimming her collarbone and the soft skin of her arms; the drape of her dress just hinting at the shape underneath, one his fingers knew by heart.
It was that she’d said yes, over and over again. She’d said yes at every turn, where the rest of the world had said no, or worse, said nothing at all.
She’d seen everything about him — searing pride, blinding shame, absurd orange hair, scuffed shoes balancing always on a tightrope, fretting just the same whether the ground was two miles or two feet below — the parts of him that were much too much and the parts that weren't nearly enough — the unlikeable bits, maybe even the unlovable ones — and said, Yes, I’ll have it. I’ll have all of it.
Percy had not even realised he’d begun to lean forward, as if drawn by a magnet, until Bill discreetly took hold of the back of his robes and tugged him properly upright again. His face relaxed into an abysmally stupid expression but he was beyond caring. He clung to the way Audrey ducked her head for a second, the way she ran her eyes up him again, the way her lips parted just slightly, as if on the verge of speaking.
Behind their parents, George and Ron pantomimed vomiting at this touching display, and the officiant began speaking as Audrey reached him, but all Percy could think was how badly he wanted to touch her.
When Audrey placed her hands in his, Percy didn’t think twice about planting a kiss on them before the formalities began.
“Hey,” Ron quipped. “That’s against the rules!”
Hermione hushed him, but everyone else chuckled, and Percy smiled more widely than he’d ever done in his life.
Maybe Ron had a point. But so had Bill: Audrey was choosing Percy, and none of the rest of it mattered.
