Pairing: OC/OC, Katie/Marcus, Theo/Millicent
Chapters: 2 of ?
Summary: 19 years later not all was well.
Disclaimer: Not mine. I'm just playing in Joanne's sandbox.
ii. Late April 1998
Erik Toffler looked on in disgust as the young couple before him kissed with an intensity he hadn’t seen in a long time. Then again, it had been a long time since he had performed a wartime wedding. When faced with mortality, emotions always tended to run high, usually followed by misguided decisions.
Just like this very instant.
He cleared his throat a few times when hands started roaming. There was a limit to the amount of obscenity he could handle, and these two were testing his boundaries. At least, the groom had the decency to mutter an apology as he, albeit reluctantly, broke away from his bride. The girl was another story, though. Dressed in Muggle trousers and blue blouse too tight around her beer gut, she was everything a proper witch wasn’t. When she grinned cheekily and even had the audacity to wink at him, Toffler felt an intense disgust bubble up inside.
He huffed in disdain when he finally recognised that infuriating grin. Now he remembered from where he had heard the girl’s surname before; her whole family was nothing more than a bunch of unmannered yobs. He had the displeasure sharing a dormitory with one of her uncles at Hogwarts-or perhaps her father even, he couldn’t be sure as it was many years ago. By the looks of it, some things never changed, no matter how many generations passed and no matter how hard her whole family pretended to be something they were not.
“So, uh, we're done here, then?” the groom asked as he cocked his chin at the parchments on the desk. His hand had snaked around his bride’s waist, ready to grab her and run as soon as he got the ‘go’.
Toffler sighed, silently lamenting his fate and degradation in function. Dealing with degenerates like the groom (his family wasn’t much better than the girl’s. How could he have forgotten?) was becoming increasingly difficult as the days passed. He should have taken Umbridge on her offer and put in a request for a transfer. The more he thought about it, the more he concluded that Muggle Registration couldn’t be that bad. Maybe, it wasn’t too late.
“Mister Toffler, sir, can we go?” the bride interrupted his musings as she swatted at her new husband’s hand underneath her blouse.
Bloody hell, that grin of hers began to grate on his nerves. The sooner he got rid of them, the better. “Yes, yes, go and enjoy your, ah, reception.”
Knowing their lot, it would be cheap beers with an extravagant dinner of mash and bangers, probably followed by a honeymoon at the Leaky Cauldron. Gods, he hated people like them.
Of course, they’d be out the door before he got to finish what he’d wanted to say. Toffler let out a breath of exasperation when the door closed with a too loud bang behind the couple, rattling the frames on the walls.
“Good riddance,” Toffler muttered as he collected the marriage license and certificate for validation and filing. He was halfway out the door when his eye fell on the two dotted lines on the front page of the document. Two empty dotted lines.
“Idiots!” he growled as he crumpled the papers in his first.
Logically, he knew he ought to go after them for their signatures. Then again, he didn’t feel particularly bothered by botching the wedding. Who would believe those two, anyway? There hadn’t been witnesses present on their behalf, and it would be their word against his, a respected Ministry worker with decades of experience under his belt.
Snorting, he tossed the papers in the nearest bin and incinerated them with a flick of his wand. It was wartime; the strangest things tended to happen.