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Chapter 26

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"This weekend!" Petunia hisses it out from between her clenched teeth, tapping ever so gently upon Dudley's back as he lays his angelic head into the crook of her neck. She's got the towel over her shoulder, truly prepared in case he has a little sick-up after feeding. That's one mile stone Poppy had been more than happy to put behind her; most of the time, Sol can eat his food and keep it down now. No more ruined shirts for her.

Shifting about on Petunia's sofa and reminding herself that, yes, she does actually want this despite all the hassle it will be, she ploughs on with the conversation.

"We both just want to get it over and done with; as far as I'm concerned, it's just acknowledgement that we're the only ones who can put up with each other for the rest of our lives, but it means something more to Regulus." And, if she's honest, it means something more to her too. For the majority of her life, Poppy had never really envisioned marriage to be a milepost she'd achieve. She's neither deaf or stupid; her personality leaves much to be desired but, for some incomprehensible reasons, Regulus wants it. Wants her. Not to say the same doesn't apply to him; they are two beings cut from the same cloth, native minds. What they have is far from the traditional romantic tale, for muggles or for magicals. But it's theirs and Poppy wouldn't trade it. If that means wearing a metal band on her finger to make Regulus relax a little, then she can do that.

If she just so happens to take a perverse pleasure in knowing he'll be equally as branded, matched up to her with that thin metal ring, then who needs to know?

With a deep, aggravated sigh, Petunia rises to her feet, walking up and down the stretch of her living room as little Dudley nuzzles into her neck that little bit more. Poppy considers telling her sister the towel has shifted slightly, that a strip of her pale blue top is exposed. Hey, she considers it, that's more than she'd have done a few years ago. Her sisters and parents are alive and well, maybe now she can start working on that whole playing nice thing that the nursery teachers had failed to instil in her.

"Poppy."

Startling at the sudden address, Poppy turns her eyes up to Petunia, meeting the pale intimidation of her own irises.

"Yes?"

"You're not doing this for the sake of it, are you? Do you love this Reagan?"

"Regulus," she corrected without thought, turning the words over in her head. Does she love Regulus? Certainly, she likes him above all the others in her life, would prefer his company even over Lily's. It's not that she doesn't love her sister but… Regulus is the one she has committee premediated murder with. He's the one who hadn't flinched at the steps she was willing to take to protect her family. And, she supposes his devotion to his family (to Sol) has gained her begrudging admiration. It's a trait they share, it's what's making them into such amazing parents. Sure, they'll fuck up with each other and points in the future, she doesn't doubt it. But they'll both do their damn best for Sol, even if it means burying the hatchet of whatever argument has spawned between them.

No matter what that argument would be.

Oh Merlin, she can't picture herself doing this without him. Fucked up co-dependency, or genuine love? Perhaps it's both, perhaps it's the former halfway through morphing into the latter.

"I think I do," Poppy finally admits, feeling as if the words are being extracted from Devil's Snare instead of from between her lips.

Petunia nods decisively, cooing at her little blob of a baby and Poppy politely ignores how damningly ridiculous she sounds.

"I can't make any promises that we'll all be there, not with what happened at my wedding-"

Poppy grimaces because yeah, James' had really stuck his foot in his mouth there. What a surprise.

"But I'll be there."

"…Thanks, Petunia."


"This is the weirdest wedding I've been to."

Lily elbows him. James'd been expecting it and folds slightly with the jab, keeping the pleasant smile on his face as best he can. It's not like he can return fire, what with Lily holding Harry. Their baby is (blessedly) fast asleep in his lovely mother's arms, tiny little lips working back and forth. It's a motion that James could watch for hours, could spend weeks and months wasting away before. They've made one damn fine baby, that's for certain. That the little tot's eyes are starting to change from blue to what James is sure will be Lily's brilliant emeralds; well, coupled with his hair, the kid's gonna be a knockout when he's older. That's for certain. Especially with such a good-looking dad to teach him the ropes.

And, he supposes Sirius can help him out there too. Maybe.

"You've only been to one wedding," his traitor of a best friend mutters under his breath," and no, your own doesn't count."

Scrap that. Sirius is giving no advice to his Prongslet.

"Shut it," Lily hisses, standing wisely between both Sirius and he, while wearing a sweet as sugarcanes smile. As if she isn't in the middle of giving them a tongue lashing. "I swear, if you mess up Poppy's wedding- well, I won't have to do anything. Poppy'll get her vengeance herself." Yeah, James agrees with that wholeheartedly.

Still, it's a weird-ass wedding. Nevermind the fact the guest-list is small as fuck (to the point they're all rammed in the front row), but the service seems rushed and both Poppy and Regulus look like they've got better places to be. Or, he supposes, they do between cooing at Sol. The toddler (who had so helpfully dropped James in it the last time he'd babysat and who still won't say any word other than his name; fuck yeah, he's proud) is currently resting in Poppy's arms, staring over her shoulder towards the other side of the church. Technically, James, Lily and Sirius are sitting on the side of the church that would be for the groom's guests, but given Regulus had only invited a single aunt who's spent the entire time eyeing them distrustfully, Lily had insisted they go fill out the other side. So, that leaves Lily's muggle sister who hates him on the other side with Lily's parents, her own baby resting on her lap (also blessedly asleep). No large, muggle husband in sight. Thank god.

It was bad enough getting the stink-eye from Petunia; he didn't need it from her walrus of a husband too.

"How long is this gonna take?" Sirius grumbles around his proud smile, getting the Lily elbow himself for the comment. It's a poor choice of words given the ceremony should be even shorter than James' own had been. Obviously, his fellow Marauder is doing this to get a rise out of Lily. God, he wishes Remus had been here; he's relatively sure the other would have kept Padfoot in line. However, while Poppy doesn't mind spending time with the werewolf, she's hardly close enough to him to invite Moony to her wedding. Hell, he doesn't doubt that Padfoot is only here because he's literally Regulus' brother. That and they probably wouldn't have been able to keep him away. Which would piss off the 'happy couple' even more if they had to deal with a drama-queen Sirius Black.

He very determinedly doesn't think of Wor- Peter. Pettigrew. Doesn't think about a boy he thought he knew.

"Clap and look happy," Lily suddenly mutters and James obeys, pushing down the urge to remind his dear wife he doesn't need a babysitting. Because he did kinda miss the fact the priest has stopped and baby Black has planted a soft kiss on baby Evans' lips. Okay, like this, they almost seem like a normal couple. Almost.

Then they both stop and turn to look at them all with sharp grey/blue eyes and the illusion is broken. Ah, normalcy, here they come.


Poppy doesn't even try for pleasantries with aunt Cassiopeia, instead sizing her up like he rather imagines she would have done any suspected Death Eater to cross her path. A confirmed Death Eater, well, he needs look no further than what happened to the Dark Lord. True, it had been a joint effort, but the point remains. Poppy hadn't hesitated.

It rather appears as if she won't hesitate here either, having handed Sol off to him and very obviously flexed the arm her wand holster resides on. Of course, she'd have her wand to hand; it does explain the long sleeves of her dress.

"Aunt Cassiopeia," Regulus greets with a tip of his head, the tip of his nose resting just above the crown of Sol's hair and he can smell his child, that warm, comforting baby scent that has become so familiar over the months. The smell of home.

"Regulus. And this must be your mudblood."

"And you're the inbred aunt," Poppy snipes back, chin up and smile mocking. No longer taking the potion regime she'd been abusing during their Hogwarts time and with ample opportunity to prep for their 'big day', her skin's all but glowing, not a dark smudge beneath her eyes nor a bitten lip in sight. Their photographs of this day will certainly be something to behold.

Aunt Cassiopeia smiles, knife sharp as she eyes Poppy once more.

"It is a shame about the blood. You'd have fit in perfectly if it weren't for that."

"I'd rather not fit in at all. Discrimination isn't really my style," Poppy gripes and he very determinedly does not point out that she hates pretty much everyone or, at the very least, appears to do so. "Neither's genocide."

"It's hardly my cup of tea either, Poppy." And the use of his wife's name (dear Merlin, she's his wife now, they're bound together by promises made on magic, even if the priest hadn't been aware of that additional element) jolts her into staring. "The leaves it'd leave at the bottom of the cup are not the favourable prophecies one wants in life." Then, she's gone, heading for the door to the little church Godric's Hollow boasts. He's aware she left a wedding gift with Kreacher (he doesn't doubt that some other members of his family will try to send their own presents, but he's also well aware not one of them will be wishing him well, that they'll probably be cursed), but it'd still been a surprise she stuck around long enough to speak to them.

Speaking of sticking around- both he and Poppy find their gazes coming to rest of the Evan's family plus Marauders. Or, however many of them had been allowed to turn up.

It's Regulus who voices the idea first.

"How long do we have to suffer their company for?"

"Weddings are supposed to have receptions," Poppy grumbles, sounding about as enthused by the idea as he is. Receptions are supposed to be a time when the best-man makes a speech, where the father of the bride makes a speech. Basically, it's a gathering of people who make speeches. But Regulus has no best-man (the perks of being a social longer in school) and he's already well aware of what Poppy's father thinks of him. A shady rich-boy who thinks he can get whatever he wants with the snap of his fingers (it hadn't exactly been an incorrect statement, even if he's abandoned that lifestyle). It's taking some adjustment (the fact he has to work for a living grates, even if the job that has fallen into his lap is exceptionally interesting).

"How many days off did you manage to get?"

"Three. When do you go back to working for the hag?"

"Bathilda," Poppy stresses "and I agreed I'd go back once Sol turns one. So, next month."

There's a moment where they both stand there, Poppy's mother cooing over the babies her two eldest children are presenting her with, Potter and Sirius larking about with Regulus' Father-in-Law (sweet Merlin, his father in law is a muggle, how horrific).

"They won't miss us," Regulus declares at the exact same time Poppy states, "we've only got three days, let's make the most of it."

Sol's agreeable clap is all the confirmation they need.


So, that's Regulus and Poppy's story finished. I did have big plans for this story to make it spiral all into canon, but I've changed my mind.

Someday, I might post The Sunflower, which'll follow Sol's time at Hogwarts (and yes, it will have plot; as said above, I had plans and it wasn't all smooth sailing), but we'll see.

For now, story finished. Woo-hoo!

Tsume
xxx