Party Wrap Up (part 2)

[girlyswot]

‘Nobody move!’

Everybody jumped.

A tall, distinguished man with strawberry blonde hair had suddenly appeared in the middle of the room, brandishing a wand. (A/N Hazel, I have no idea where you were going with this one, but I’ve stolen him for my own purposes.)

‘Where is she?’

A terrified Girlyswot stammered, ‘W…w…who?’

The man snarled. ‘Don’t give me that innocent crap. I’m looking for the most dangerous woman in the country. The International Aurors have been after her for years, but she’s too good at giving us the slip. But not today.’ He paused dramatically.

Eventually they realised that the pause was more than merely dramatic.

‘Sir, you have not yet told us the name of this woman,’ Percy pointed out.

The man snarled. ‘She goes by many aliases. The Queen of Fluff, St Margarets, and her friends, I believe, call her Mary.’ He spat out the final word. ‘Who can say what her true identity is?’

‘And what crimes do you say this woman is guilty of?’ That was Will. Girlyswot saw Moonette shoot him a grateful look which he coolly ignored.

‘This woman is one of the most evil megalomaniacs the world has ever seen. She is ruthless in her bid for world domination. At first she merely controlled the characters of her own creation, but quickly she began to take charge of other people’s characters and even extended her empire into the world of Real Life. We have not been able to determine whether she operates via mind-altering potions or a version of the Imperius Charm. Whatever her means, she has forced innocent men and women into relationships against their will, ruining the lives of Muggles and witches in many lands and times. This woman must be stopped, and today!’

‘Do you know where she is?’ Girlyswot muttered to Moonette who shook her head in response.

‘You!’ The man was pointing towards Gabriella DuSult. ‘You are the seamstress?’

‘Well, not in real life,’ Gabby tried.

‘I need you to make a wedding dress. You have ten minutes.’

‘Ten minutes! But I need measurements, fabric, time…’

He threw her a package. ‘You will find everything you need in there. You may choose any style you like provided only that it does not have a turtle neck.’

‘But…’

The man had turned away, leaving Gabby rushing to open the package and muttering to Richard that he’d better learn some sewing Charms and quick.

‘You there, in the frumpy dress.’ Moonette pouted. ‘You have been consorting with a mysterious Scotsman, haven’t you?’

She shot an agonising look at Will, whose face was stonily impassive. But there was something irresistible about this man, almost as if they knew that whatever he said would achieve what they really wanted. Girlyswot wondered if he’d cast an Imperius on them all.

‘Yes,’ Moonette admitted. ‘But when you say consorting, I didn’t even snog…’

‘Fetch him. Now!’

The wheels began to turn in Girlyswot’s mind. A wedding dress… a mysterious Scotsman... a man from the Ministry… could it really be? There was only one thing missing…

‘St Margarets! St Margarets!’ With grinning faces, and quite a lot of crumbs between them, Duncan and Beth Crocker ran in from the kitchen. ‘Look what we made!’

It was a huge, beautifully decorated wedding cake (of the kind that would never feature on Cake Wrecks - if you haven’t seen it, check it out – it’s hilarious). This was layer after layer of sugar paste roses and delicate piping, tinted in the palest pinks and creams.

‘Set it down over there,’ the mysterious man (not to be confused with the mysterious Scot, okay?) told them. ‘Now you…’ Finally he turned and pointed at Girlyswot. ‘You will find her. Bring her here but make sure you tell her nothing. She has escaped us many times, but we will not fail again.’

‘Yes, sir!’ Girlyswot replied with rather more enthusiasm than she should have done. She was beginning to like Mystery Man.

####

Ten minutes later, the Great Hall had been transformed. Flowers decorated every pillar and pew. Lit candles floated above the aisle. Someone had transfigured Megan and KJ’s dresses to look like bridesmaids. Near the huge fireplace, the Mystery Man stood, attired in formal robes. And to one side, there waited an enormous figure of a man, wearing his Highland plaid. It wasn’t Jamie Fraser but there was definitely something familiar about him. Girlyswot felt St Mags begin to pull away, but she held on tightly.

‘There’s no escape now,’ she muttered. ‘I’m writing this and you’ll do as I say.’

She hurried St M into a side room, where Gabby fitted the lowcut dress that enhanced all St M’s natural assets and showed off her fabulous 46-year old figure. Someone clasped a string of pearls around her neck and thrust a pair of heels onto her feet.

‘Beautiful,’ Richard told her, seriously. ‘And I want you to know, I forgive you.’

St Mags looked stunned but since Girlyswot hadn’t written her any lines, she didn’t say anything. Instead she let Richard tuck her hand into his arm and lead her back into the Great Hall. Everyone rose to their feet as she entered, though it was hard to tell if their smiles were smiles of joy or relief.

‘Dearly beloved, we are gathered here…’

The minister intoned the familiar words of the wedding ceremony. There was a nervous moment when he asked if ‘anyone here present has just cause or impediment’ but Girlyswot carefully didn’t give anyone any lines then either. She was starting to like being the author in charge.

‘Do you Mary, Queen of Fluff take Byron Blake the Billionaire, younger brother of Byron the Blue-Eyed Billionaire Rogue Highwayman…’

Girlyswot sighed. Her work was done. St Mags was irrevocably shipped with her leading man and doubtless the Harlequin version of their romance would be published soon.

‘You won’t get away with it you know,’ St M said, casually handing Girlyswot a piece of delicious cake. ‘I can write my way out of anything. They don’t call me a megalomaniac for nothing.’

Girlyswot grinned. She’d been waiting for this moment for four days and nothing could stop her now. ‘I know you could. Your writing skills are legendary.’

St Mags began to turn away to greet her other guests.

‘But...’ Girlyswot put a hand on her arm to stop her. ‘You should have worked on your computer skills, too. You see, when I post this, I shall screen the comments. And anything I don’t like, I won’t let through.’

St Margarets’ jaw dropped. It wasn’t an attractive look, so Girlyswot put out a finger and gently closed her friend's mouth. ‘My game, I think.’

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[girlyswot.livejournal.com]

'No,' Girlyswot explained patiently to Percy. 'There was no Imperius. We all acted according to our free will. It just so happened that what the Mystery Man wanted was what we all wanted as well. Even St Margarets.'