“One, two, three ... one, two, three ... one, two - there, see? You’ve got it now.”
The first fingers of Firewhisky of the day were taken that morning while Theodore was watching his nephew, James, lead his sister, Catherine, around the office in an awkward waltz that was neither graceful nor particularly fluid. Theodore was laid back in his chair with his feet wriggling in their socks on the fidgety ottoman that was as nervous as he felt. On his lap he was absently rocking to and fro the daughter of his other sister, Irina. Said daughter, Helen, was contentedly pulling at the holey shirt that hung from Theodore’s shoulders and out of the corner of his eye he was watching her, a small smirk on the side of his mouth. Her hair had been twirled into long, dark ringlets and her bright blue eyes shone prettily at him with the Rookwood mischief and impatience - as though she’d already given up on the day ahead of her, much like Theodore felt as though he had. Unlike Helen, however, the day wasn’t something Theodore could hide from with a baleful look at his mother. He had to face it.
Smudging his lips together, Theodore tipped his head to the side and observed his sister as she shuffled across the oriental rugs, her feet feeling out the steps she knew but the restraint of their nephew’s small stature compared to her height preventing the pair from relaxing into the dance. Theodore turned Helen round and pointed to Catherine, leaning forward a little as the girl laughed and raised a hand up to thrust in the direction of her auntie. Theodore nodded at her when she looked back at him and he took his feet off of the ottoman. He then set her down on the footstool, giving said stool a jab in the rear to stop its wiggling, and rose to his feet, setting the glass down on the desk.
“James, out of the way before you hurt her,” Theodore flicked the boy on the shoulder and the child scurried away into the corner where his mother was sat, curling Ariadne’s, Catherine’s daughter, hair.
Catherine’s eyebrows climbed her forehead and she looked at Theodore curiously before lifting her arms, letting him take one hand and settle his on the small of her back. Slowly they began to move around the room, moving rhythmically to the music that Ariadne hurried to turn up. Theodore moved closer to his sister, tipping her head gently onto his shoulder, and smiled as he felt her hands drop, curling and clasping together around his middle. Theodore brought his spare hand up and cradled the back of her head, sighing against her hair as he closed his eyes. He thought, for the first time in a long time, of his mother as he felt the figure of his sister against him, her presence for all the world feeling like that of their mother’s. But she wasn’t Desdemona.
“You were always good at this, weren’t you?” She murmured gently. “It used to drive father mad, didn’t it? The dancing, I mean. There were other things that drove him potty, too.” Theodore smirked, a huff of laughter exhaling from his nose and Catherine smiled against his chest, breathing in the musky scent of her brother which was a reassuring envelope around her. “Are you scared?” Catherine asked after a moment, reminding him of the scared twenty-year-old who confided in her brother all those years ago, a boy who she’d never have thought to have remembered, to have learnt from her and taken on this need to protect her where their brother and father should’ve and didn’t.
“No,” Theodore whispered into her hair. “Just nervous, that’s all.” He sighed again, his fingers tracing small circles into her back. “All the what-ifs and expectations... makes you wonder if you’ll ever live up to what everyone’s expecting. I don’t know. I have to be a good husband ... a good father.” Theodore swallowed. “I don’t exactly have a decent set of role models on either front, though. Who shall I model my behaviour on most? Uncle Auggie, dear old dad or perhaps even uncle Cedric or Uncle Eamon? If I follow grandfather’s lead I’m already a mistress short.” Theodore smiled, his satire deflating his mood somewhat and he shook his head minutely.
Catherine lifted her head from his chest and she met Theodore’s gaze with a fierceness he didn’t think her to have been capable of. His stare searched hers, looking for the source of her fire, and she sighed, tipping her forehead against the hollow of his throat.
“You’re not them, do you know that?” She brought her head back up again and lifted her hand to his cheek, narrowing her eyes at him. “You aren’t any of them. You are Theodore Rookwood and you’re marrying Hallie Cooper - a Half-Blood who might be a blessing in disguise for us all. You’re going to father beautiful, smart children and you’re going to be a fantastic father. You are going to be everything they aren’t and weren’t for us and for Katrina and Kendall and James and Jeremiah and Edith and Nigel and all of the others... dear lord, you’re going to be an example to us all, Theo. Be yourself, for goodness sake. You are already everything they are not.”
The Great Hall was sumptuous, almost sickening, and it made Theodore’s stomach turn knowing that, in part, it was there for his benefit also. The music playing was ridiculous and mostly for the benefit of the ever so slightly kookier guests that looked to have pioneered the early form of the flash mob. The band that Theodore had been coerced into buying for the event to help the organist were certainly enjoying themselves and he couldn’t help but notice his cousins, Nigel and Niall, smirking interestedly in the direction of someone on Hallie’s side of the hall. As he passed, Theodore threw his hand up around the back of Nigel’s head and the elder of the two gave a yelp and glared in the direction of his younger cousin, only just remembering it was Theodore’s wedding day, less he hurried after him to give him similar treatment.
“Theo, come here!”
Theodore turned and his eyebrows furrowed at the sight of Irina hurrying down the aisle as fast as her little legs could carry her. He caught hold of her arms just as she reached him, preventing her from barrelling into his torso, and he smiled as she held up two boxes that he’d clearly had a problem with remember. Theodore felt his cheeks warm a little bit and he took them from her, thanking her quietly before pressing as kiss to her temple. Irina patted his cheek and scurried away to berate Nigel and Niall before taking her seat with her husband and their children - though before doing so Theodore was sure he heard her telling the boys to remember which family they came from and they weren’t reckless Mudbloods.
Some things did refuse to die, regardless of the families that were joined together through the marriage law.
Theodore shook his head and slid the boxes into the pocket of his blazer. He dropped his hands into his trouser pockets absent-mindedly but quickly removed them upon catching sight of the vicar who had seemingly arrived just that moment. The vicar looked upon Theodore with sparkling, amused eyes and he reached for Theodore’s hands, clasping them tightly in his own before gesturing to the hall.
“What a beautiful place to marry, my boy.” He complimented with a soft smile.
“Thank you, sir.” Theodore murmured respectfully before hedging, “Is there anything particular in regards to the law that needs to be completed, do you know?”
The vicar looked at him curiously for a moment before nodding and smiling placidly.
“This is a wedding first, Theodore.” He said slowly. “Ministry bureaucracy has no place here. Allow me a moment, I’ll see off Mr Greaves. I don’t think you’re a flight risk anymore are you, m’boy?”
Once Greaves was, as the vicar promised, shooed away, the ceremony was ready to begin and Theodore felt, not for the first time, that perhaps the vicar had too much faith in him and sending Greaves away had been premature. Perhaps the Ministry had been right after all. Maybe he really was a flight risk? Theodore wrung his hands together and looked furtively around to see Catherine settle down next to her husband. Irina was smiling and Adriana, his youngest eldest sister, had taken a seat where their parents should’ve, at the end of the bench where Catherine and Irina had set themselves.
The door was open, at least - a way out - but his feet were sealed to the floor and Theodore wasn’t sure that was out of petrifying fear or the need to do his duty and the memories of a woman on her wedding day utterly ripped apart by what was happening to her. If he only did one thing, he hoped he could somehow make it a good day for Hallie despite everything. That was why he stayed. The vicar was right. He was no flight risk.