Destination Devon

The weekend had finally arrived. Amelia was due to marry Brant and they were set to venture their voyage into 'marriage bliss', or at least that's what the ministry intended to happy. No doubt for Amelia it would, perhaps not bliss but she had a good feeling about it. For starters her and Brant Crawford got on well, they seemed to have the same ideologies about the marriage law and what they wanted out of it. What could possibly go wrong?

The pair had managed to find a cute chapel only a stone throw away from the beach in Devon. It was cute, and luckily the weather would be sunny. Nobody apart from family were invited, at least from Amelia's side of the family anyway. She hadn't told her parent-in-law's, they'd emigrated to Australia and she didn't really have any friends. However it didn't bother her, the only people that she would want to be there were attending: Hallie and Toby. Hallie was bringing Theodore of course and Toby had asked to bring his friend Frank. It was unusual how the two had even become friends, he was a famous Quidditch player and, well, he was just Toby. Her innocent, sweet, baby boy. Little did she know Frank was more of a friend and Toby wasn't perhaps as innocent as she imagined.

Amelia had worked for twenty years in the department of magical transport, meaning it hadn't been difficult to hire a muggle people carrier for the trip. The carrier was large, a seven-seater in fact. Amelia would be driving, perhaps she'd swap with somebody every now and then. Brant would be in the passenger seat and then in the back would be the other four. There were three seats facing forwards and then two opposite them. Amelia had to compliment the muggles, they knew how to fit a lot into a small space without magic. If only wizards and witches couldn't cast such magic, they'd think a lot more logical that's for sure.

Kissing a photo of her husband, who was resting on the table besides her bed, Amelia closed the curtains and grasped her suitcase hauling it downstairs.

'Hallie, Toby. We're leaving in a minute!' Amelia called, not entirely sure what either of the pair were up to, nor knowing where they were.

'Hello.' She said to Brant as she reached the bottom of the staircase into the hallway. 'Are we all ready to go?' Amelia asked. He'd been on bag duty, along with Theodore (poor Theo), which mean't they had to take all the luggage to the car and somehow load it into the boot - without magic as the Professor had instructed.

Brant was partly excited at the prospect of a trip down to Devon, more so because Amelia would be with him. He had washed showered and packed the night before. Now in a loose shirt and pants along with matching black shoes he stood with his jacket over his arm as he waited for her to appear. He was a little uncomfortable seeing how he stood with Theo, Toby's friend his back pack over his shoulder. As he saw her walk down the stairs he smiled seeing her blonde hair with its waves and curls that cascaded down past her shoulders as she moved down the stairs.  He let a smile cross his lips “Good morning Amelia, you look..radiant” he said leaning gently over he gave her a soft kiss on her cheek and nodded to her question. “As far as I can tell all the bags are in the car, unless Hallie or Toby have anything else to add, ow I added a cooler of fresh bottles of water, for if you, Hallie or Toby get thirsty.” he said “I hope you don't mind, there are sodas too for those who want one.”

He was use to carrying water himself from his time in Egypt. It had become some what of a habit when going on a long trip to take a bottle with him in his back pack. Even now among the clothes he had shrunk in the bag, he had six bottles and a first aid kit. Moving to the car he opened both the back passenger door for Hallie. He knew she would need help getting in and out and the front door for Amelia because that was just how he was. But he didn't get in right away he waited for Hallie to appear and offered his hand to help her climb into the seven-seater vehicle.

( Brants outfit )

“I can see why you’re on the best dressed list of 2027,” Theodore Rookwood commented mockingly when a weary Frank Longbottom trudged in through the back door of Cooper Cottage in the small hours of that fateful June morning, huddled up against the cold in a hooded jumper which he quickly divested and dropped on the back of the kitchen chair upon realising the warmth of the house. He sneered at Theodore in response, abandoning himself into the chair he’d claimed, and the younger of the two men could only do but chuckle, reaching for the pot of coffee he’d made up, pouring a glug of the tar-like liquid into a mug that Hallie had made when she had been little for her mother, sliding it across the table for Frank to take.

“Wow, pansies, thanks a bunch, arse,” he retorted dryly, swallowing a mouthful of the coffee nonetheless. “Toby up yet?” He asked, setting the cup down on the table top, brushing his fingers absently around the rim.

“Depends what kind of ‘up’ you’re referring to,” Theodore responded crudely, sitting down opposite Frank and calmly ignoring the glares he stretched to him. “I know, I know – piss off Theo,” he added for Frank’s benefit, smiling broadly as the man nodded, bringing the rim of the cup back to his lips.

He’d been on bag duty, yes, but as ever Theodore had slacked off. He’d gotten as far as bringing everything downstairs and hollering back up that his wife didn’t need all of the crap she had packed but then he’d abandoned everything by the door and decided to make a pot of coffee which he intended to drink completely if he was ever going to make it through the intolerable journey that was laid out before them. When Frank arrived he looked as tired as Theodore felt but there was a little stab of pride inside of him when the first thing – or person, rather – Frank asked after, post insult, was Toby. It proved to Theodore – as though he wasn’t already convinced – that this was a good person and, indeed, someone who would be good for Toby, too.

“I hope you’re excited for this wedding,” Theodore yawned, looking at Frank who blinked blearily at him. “Must be the one hundredth we’ve been too collectively this year. They’re rather losing their charm, don’t you think? I always did prefer funerals.”

“We’re not all as macabre as you, Theo,” Frank intoned, swallowing the rest of his coffee before getting up.

The sound of the stairs creaking set Theodore back into action and he stole back the cups, whizzing them up clean with a little cheating bit of magic and setting them to rights once more before throwing a bag at Frank, the man catching it easily, coolly, the benefits of his career shining through, and gathering up his own. Theodore childishly rolled his eyes when Brant spoke, earning another warning glance – or glare, whatever you like – from Frank who adjusted his bag on his shoulder. Then, with a push, Theodore sent Frank outside into the cold once more, the elder man just managing to grab up his hoodie again, the two making their way over to the boot of the car into which they tossed a few more bags.

Theodore closed it and leaned himself back against the boot, eying Frank curiously as the man blew hot air into his palms, rubbing them together. Theodore himself didn’t mind the cold but it seemed as though the Longbottom man enjoyed it about as much as a kick in the teeth and Theodore couldn’t really blame him. Coming back off of pre-seasoning training from Miami to comparatively colder, more miserable Britain wasn’t the welcome home party one would have preferred. Theodore wouldn’t have bothered coming home if it had been him but alas, therein lay the difference between himself and Frank – Frank had his priorities sorted.

“Toby’s in the shower,” Theo said finally.

“I gathered,” Frank returned sarcastically. “Are you going to be a pain my arse this whole trip?”

“Nope, Toby is,” Theodore grinned, his mouth widening to impossible proportions. “Or not, prudey-mc-prudester.”

“Shove off, Theo, will you?” Frank sighed.

Theo nodded. He would, for now at least.