The Long Awaited

[Yakov Olaf]

The crisp blue morning light of July, pierced the early morning clouds, bringing light to one part of the world. The hall of the echoing manor, void of life and silent, was filled with tables smothered in white cloth and heart-shaped confetti. Every inch of wall space bore shimmering silver stars, though this reception hall was nothing compared to the slightly smaller room upstairs, in which had been erected, an archway of pure white roses, a series of white chairs, and hanging star charms from the ceiling. The manor was all set up and ready to go for the most important day of Yakov Olaf's life.

Seven-thirty arrived in the form of the obstreperous and confused grandfather clock which seemed to believe it was built to chime every half hour. All the years that Yakov had known this sound while living at home, and yet, though he had only been living away for a few short years, the heavy droning and clattering of the beast still came as some surprise to his semi-conscious self. One eye flicked open, the other being far too deep in the marshmallow of his pillow to so much as twitch, and Yakov scanned the room. His old bedroom. The posters of his favourite Quidditch team, tattered and worn, still hung just as limply from the wall as they had always done. The photo of Aaliyah and himself covered in mud and slapping it in each others faces, still shifted playfully as ever. Two smiling teenagers. Two very happy young people with so much to live for. Today was the day that, at long last, after all the tears and pain, the two of them would wed.

"Morning,"

The voice had come from the doorway, from the long-haired man, already suited and booted for the big day. Yakov pushed himself to sit up. Perhaps a little too quickly as his head gave jolt and black fizzles of stars burst into his vision. He grasped at his head. Who's idea had it been to have the stag-do the night before the wedding? "Remind me why I let Dom arrange the stag-do?" Yakov said, pulling his legs out from under the bed covers, and pushing his feet firmly against the floor to stand up. He walked straight towards the dresser, to the pocket watch that lay upon it, and slipped the chain over his wrist, so as not to forget it. Gavrail gave his little brother a beaming smile. "I did say you should have someone a little more experienced to be best man," he commented, glancing over at the watch, "still, I think it's time you had some of this," Gavrail gestured the cup in his hand, "should pep you up a little." Yakov gave his brother a nod of thanks, taking the drink from him and gulping it down. "I guess I should get dressed," Yakov added, "wouldn't do much good to turn up to my wedding in.." he stared down at himself, at the pair of underwear covered in feathers and crude drawings of dragons. His chest was drawn on, as well, with little blue scribbles of pixies running up it. "I don't even know what that is supposed to be," he gestured to the unidentifiable squiggle on his knee. With a shake of his head at the state of himself, Yakov headed off for the bathroom, with no memory of who had drawn on him, or why he had feathers attached to his arms and briefs.

---

Eight-thirty rushed around just as rapidly as seven-thirty had. By now, Yakov was dressed and seated at the breakfast table, munching on a piece of overdone toast. Gavrail, Dominicus, Yulian and Yosif all sat with him, all tucking in to food of some description. The loud clatter, shout, and consequential explosion, signified that their father had attempted to wake Zdravko. Those at the table scarcely batted an eyelid at the sound. Gavrail continued staring into the letter he had received from his lady, Dominicus brushed over the pages of the newspaper, and the twins buried their faces in their cereal. Yakov had missed having the morning chaos to deal with; it felt like home to have it all happening again. After a few minutes, something rolled down the stairs, noisily. Yakov could hear his father shouting at Zdravko, telling him to stop jumping the steps. A moment later, the boy entered the room. Yakov half-raised his eyebrows. "Not quite what I had in mind," he said, looking Zdravko's outfit up and down. Gavrail looked up from his letter and coffee, choking slightly. Dom turned to look, also. "Perhaps if he lost braces.." Dom offered. "Mm," Yakov replied, "maybe, though I think we should probably address the sausage rolls spello-taped to his ears, first." The boys each returned to their own business as Zdravko sat down between them. Yosif handed him a piece of toast.

At a quarter to nine, the doorbell rang. There was a mad dash from the younger siblings to answer it. The sudden excited shouts to Yakov, told him that this house visitor was to be no ordinary guest.

---

---

 

[Petar Olaf]

It had been a long journey, and his hair was a mess from the flight. Then again, it was always a curled lengthly mess of straw-blonde, so there was nothing unusual there. His attendance at the wedding was to be a surprise. Hopefully a good one, as it was Dominicus who had invited him, and not the groom, himself. He was appropriately suited and booted when he rang the old doorbell, causing chimes to ring throughout the building. He had not been back there in so many years, and it was now strange to think that this was the place he had grown up in. School had been a long, long time ago, as had childhood. Moments later, he had a mad scrabbling at the other side of the door, and then the shouting began as the surprised faces of his younger siblings found his eyes. "Wow," he said in an applauding manner, "you've all really grown. Then again, I haven't seen you lot since you were somewhat smaller." He shot Zdravko a smile when he registered the sausage rolls. "Nice outfit," he said with a grin, before stepping into the house with his broom, and being shepherded into the smaller dining room-come kitchen. He nodded a greeting to his brothers, before searing himself at the table.

"Yakov, you tiger," he said jokingly, "younger than me, and you've already bagged yourself a girl. Brilliant. Way to show me up!" he laughed, before Zdravko brought him a plate with a large, warm, sausage roll sat upon it. "Aw, Zdrav," Petar said happily, "you remembered.." He tucked into his breakfast. Having not managed to grab something before he had left, he was most grateful for his brother's generosity. Then came a good few minutes of silence as everyone ate. As they all came to a finish, the twins darting from the room to have a fight in the hall about goodness-knew-what, Petar struck up conversation. "So, come on," he said to Yakov, once Gavrail had wandered off to go and break up the fight, and Dom was immersed in his newspaper, again, "tell me about her; what's she like, where did you meet, how did you pop the question?"

 

[Yakov Olaf]

Yakov had missed Petar. Unlike Zdravko, he was not destructive, unlike the twins, he did not get in constant fights with his siblings, unlike Dominicus, he didn't pine for some girl, unlike Gavrail, he didn't gloat. He was a charming elder brother with a love for dragons, and a longing to meet the one. Yakov could respect that. He gave slight laugh before answering Petar's questions. "I proposed when she came over to watch the fireworks, last year, we met at school, and she's.." A glazed look formulated across Yakov's face as he thought about Aaliyah. How much they had been through. Just how much he loved her. "She's.. Well," he could not put it all into words, and resigned himself to shorten it as much as possible, "you'd approve." He gave his brother a twinkling smile.

---

Time seemed to shoot past, after that. They were due to arrive at the establishment in time for ten, with the aim of leaving home at half nine. This plan was soon blown out of the water by a last minute rush as the twins disappeared into the wall cavities to have an argument, Zdravko started apparating upstairs and downstairs to wind up Viktoriya, (who was being ever the recluse), and Kristo was failing to calm the whole situation down. Eventually, after much struggle, Gavrail and Dominicus wrestled the twins from their hiding place, and Petar offered Zdravko the last sausage roll from the cupboard.

The family set off with much merriment. They would be traveling by broom. Petar had Zdravko on the back of his, Kristo had Viktoriya, Gavrail had Yulian, and Dom had Yosif. Yakov was thrilled to have a broom to himself. They traveled in convoy, as swiftly as they could, reaching the beautiful vista of a destination at just after ten. As luck would have it, the bride was late, also. The Olaf family scurried inside the manor and to the appropriate room, seating themselves and awaiting the arrival of the bride. Yakov stood at the front, speaking to Dom. "You don't think she's bailed on me, do you?" he worried, his eyes finding his pocket watch and noting that she was quarter of an hour late. Dom had shaken his head and reassured Yakov. Still, it wasn't impossible that she'd had a change of heart..

---

---

 

[Aaliyah Olaf]

Aaliyah swore as the alarm clock rang loudly in her ear. She slapped it and sent it to the floor with a resounding 'THUD'. Why had she set her alarm, anyway? Her head hurt, and she could remember nothing of the night before. Had it been a party of some kind? Why would she be having a party? She turned over and closed her eyes, drifting back into her sleep. Forty minutes later, she remembered: The previous night, she had been having fancy muggle drinks with a few friends, giggling and laughing, chatting to a handsome man of about her age. She had been there because today, of all days, was the day she was to be married. Aaliyah sat bolt upright in bed, whacking her head on the shelf above, and swearing even louder. She had stayed at a friend's place for the night, and now had an even bigger headache. Leaping out of bed, swearing some more, she began to slip on her dress, style her hair and do her make-up. Midway through this palaver, the maid of honour wandered in with some pepper-upper drink, and the hangover soon melted away. Now she just had to finish getting ready. And as she lifted the alarm clock of the floor, it's face spelt out doom. She was going to be late. Aaliyah shouted out and held the note of a particularly rude word, before darting downstairs and enquiring as to whether or not the hired transport had arrived. It had. She had no time to faff about with letting the coach driver open the door for her, and did it for herself, slipping quickly inside and taking her seat. The girls followed suit and, once they were all present and correct, they took off.

The gleaming white coach and winged horses, settled elegantly upon the grass of the manor. The maid of honour took hold of Aaliyah's dress train, and the bridesmaids followed her inside the building in a neat procession. They soon reached the room. Aaliyah took a deep breath and the door was opened. She stepped forward, elegant on her toes as she approached her future husband. This was it. This was the rest of her life. They were going to be married, they were going to grow old together. There was no-one else she would have wanted. Once at the front, she took her betrothed hands, and they listened to the service, a tear of joy stroking Aaliyah's cheek.

---

Their first kiss as a married couple had been shared to much applause, before the entire wedding party had moved to the reception room. Once seated, the speeches began. Aaliyah sat beside her husband, their hands linked as they listened to the speeches given, the toasts made, and the old celebratory wizarding songs sang. She was pleased with the way everything had turned out, ceremony and decoration-wise. It was more than perfect.

---

---

 

[Dominicus Olaf]

Dom applauded the married couple. Now it was his turn to take the floor as the wedding party were seated in the reception hall. He tapped the small silver spoon beside his placemat, against the goblet, grabbing the attention of those present, before he stood up. "First off, on behalf of my brother, I would like to say thank you all for turning up to witness this most joyous of occasions." He gave the room as a whole, a nod, "now, as Yakov's best man, I believe I have the honour of making a speech.." His eyes shone as he shot his brother a sideways glance. The room gave a light smattering of laughter. Obviously some of them had witnessed previous wedding speeches. "I always thought that I would have many more years to plan my speech out, that Yakov, the annoying younger brother as I knew him to be, would not find someone half as beautiful, loving, and magical as he has for another ten years. But it would seem that such a woman does exist, and, for some reason I cannot fathom, has fallen in love with my brother!" The bride and groom laughed at this, as did several others. "This is the same brother who used to wear his underpants on his head and run around the garden in the noddy." Many people giggled. Yakov grinned.

"This is the brother who who got into a massive plant fight in his fifth year, alongside the lovely Aaliyah. These two have caused more mayhem than Durmstrang has seen in the last century. And when I look at them.. When I look at them, I see two wonderful people, who through all their troubles and struggles, have managed to find the greatest gift of all; love." There came a 'aww', followed closely by a round of applause, during which Dom was reseated.

 

[Yakov Olaf]

Yakov had not known what to expect of his elder brother's speech-making abilities, though he was not disappointed with his theory that it would be soppy like the old dog he was. He shot his brother a glimmering smile of thanks. He decided it was only right to make a speech of his own as there was no father of the bride to speak. Yakov had chosen to keep it short and sweet. He rose to his feet, cleared his throat, and smiled down at his beautiful bride. Then he addressed the room. It was not to be the most traditional of speeches, but certainly the most applauded of the day. His voice came loud and clear as he raised his arms. "Eat, drink, and be merry!" And with that declaration, food was served, and the band began to play.

---

The midday hustle and bustle had quickly changed into a sleepy afternoon, in which the bride and groom took to the dance floor, soon inviting all others to join in. The sheer number of people who had turned out for this joyous occasion, was shocking, but nonetheless merry. In fact, with so many people, it nicely weighed out those too tired, old, or lazy to dance, with those who rolled about the dance floor, kicking off their shoes and squealing in delight. Yakov still had his arms wrapped around Aaliyah, slow dancing, regardless of the now-upbeat music. They were in their own world. It was a world of light, hope, love. And it was just the two of them.

Yakov did not know how the rest of the evening panned out. For many hours he and Aaliyah gently rocked to the music, eventually picking up the beat and dancing a little more wildly, before deeming it appropriate to move quietly on to the grassy driveway, where they left in the carriage for their honeymoon cottage in the countryside. His thoughts were far from the evening rabble back at the reception hall, while he looked deeply into his love's eyes, and told her how truly beautiful she really was.

---

---

 

[Dominicus Olaf]

The day stroke past the windows in a summer breeze, vanishing just as speedily and gracefully as it had arrived. Dominicus had sat and eaten in thought for a long time. Many thoughts stirred about his head. Thoughts of what he had read in the Daily Prophet, thoughts of the girl he had fallen so deeply in unrequited love with, whom he had never really known. It had come as a plummeting shock, the morning his eyes had found the news, the morning he learned of her death, and of her greatest secret. It explained so much. A werewolf and a Death Eater.. The latter he had almost suspected, but the irony of the previous had bowled him over. He was one of them, now. He was a lost soul like her.

Dom stared mournfully into his goblet, swishing round the oozes of red liquid. He seemed almost completely unaware of the excitement and havoc erupting all around him: Yosif was having a punch up with Yulian over one of the younger girls, and Zdravko was being, well, Zdravko. "Honestly," he heard Petar's voice echoing like he stood in the next room, and not beside him, "if I see him trying to force-feed one more sausage roll to old Mrs. Buchvarov, I'll tie his hands behind his back." Petar rolled his wand along his palm in anticipation. "No point," Dominicus said without so much as a sideways glance in Petar's direction, "he'll manage to find another way. He always does." Gloomily, Dom continued swirling his drink. Petar seemed to suddenly become aware of how down his brother was. He leant down on the table, turning to tilt his head and Dom. "Okay," he said matter-of-factly, seating himself down in what had been Yakov's seat beside Dom, "what's her name, and why is she bothering you?"

They talked for at least an hour, Petar gently probing further for information, and Dominicus only too willing to give it, now that he had someone he could trust to talk to. The conclusion of the conversation went something along the lines of Mrs. Buchvarov shouting at Zdravko to leave her be, Petar ignoring the situation as justice was done in the form of Mrs. Buchvarov kicking Zdravko to the floor, summed up the entire conversation with a heavy sigh, and encouraging pat on the back, and the words "drink up and meet me in the corner in five minutes."

 

[Yulian Olaf]

Perhaps it was the alcohol effecting his brain? He had only drunk the one goblet full, but it was his first time he had had dealings with any alcohol. Oh, yes, he had been seventeen for nearly a year, now, but his father had forbidden either of them from touching alcohol until the summer holidays, and they had only come of age during the start of the school year. Now that he was trying it, however, it was strange. The wine was bitter, and yet sweet and the same time. He was not too fond of the taste, and did as he had always instinctively done when he did not like the taste of food or drink; he swallowed it as fast as possible. He felt fine. At first. But after a few minutes, when he made to stand up to join his brothers on the dance floor, he found his leg give a peculiar wobble underneath him. It made him laugh. But.. Why was he laughing? It wasn't that funny, was it? It quickly occurred to him that he was experiencing the effects of alcohol. "So," he muttered to himself, glancing over at his twin brother's still-full goblet. He had witnessed Yosif only drink a sip before holding a serviette to his mouth to splutter into. Obviously his brother was not as tolerant of the stuff as he was. Yulian snatched up the goblet, making sure no-one was watching, "if you drink one goblet of wine, you get jelly legs.. But what if you drink two?" He smirked to himself. For once, he did not wish his brother to be the lab rat of his experiment.

A few minutes later, however, Yulian soon had the answer to his problem, and he stumbled across the room, his eyes focussing on his feet. And then he collided with a girl. "Oof!" he exclaimed, managing to regain his footing, "Sorry, I-" he had looked up, had since that beautifully framed chubby face, and had found a side of himself he had never known, coming out to make a stand, "I'm Yulian," he wobbled on the spot, producing a hand. The girl made to shake it, but Yulian leant forwards and pecked her her hand in gentlemanly greeting. The girl began to giggle, and Yulian smiled at her. She was not normally his type- the kind of girl he usually went for was, well, blonder for a start. This girl had heavy brown hair and eyes, and a smile like a sunrise. A moment later, all hell broke loose..

 

[Yosif Olaf]

Yosif had no taste for wine. It just tasted so bland, so foul and potent. What did people need to drink for, anyway? He wondered this as he walked back from one of the tables with two sodas, one for himself, and one for the lovely, chunky girl he had laid eyes upon earlier in the evening. They had already gotten talking, and they had established who each other was, what they did with their time, and where they went to school. She was only just seventeen, and she was home schooled. They two had had a laugh, but now that Yosif returned, he found his twin brother smooching over her hand. "Yulian," Yosif said in an annoyed tone, "a word, if you please." he managed to coax his brother aside, and began to ask him what he thought he was playing at. Yulian laughed. "Jealous, are we? Jealous that I get all the girls, simply by.. By walking up to them?" Yosif shook his head at his brother. There was definitely something abnormal about his behaviour, tonight. For a start, he hadn't simply laid into him for interrupting his attempts at getting a girlfriend, like he normally would. "What's wrong with you?" Yosif questioned Yulian with a frown. Yulian frowned back. "What are you trying to say?" the words were sharp at the tip of his tongue, jabbing into Yosif. "What?" Yosif said, confused and uncertain as to what he had supposedly done, "I just meant, what's wrong with you, tonight? You're no-" SMACK! Yosif was forced backwards by the blow of his brothers fist at his cheek. He stumbled for a moment, but soon regained his balance to glare back at his brother. Tonight, he had told himself, you're going to be brave. If he hits you, you hit him back. Harder. He had dominated you all your life, and if you don't stop him soon, you'll never escape. Today, more than the lives if the bride and groom will be changed.

His decision echoed back to him as he put a hand up to his face, wiping at the dribble at the corner of his mouth. Hang about, that wasn't dribble.. Yosif stared at his finger tips. It was only a small amount, but across his fingers spread a thin coating of blood. He stared back up at his brother. No words could be spoken to express the hormones whizzing about inside of his usually cowardly body. And then, it happened. He pounced on Yulian, attempting to blindly smack at his face, while Yulian pummeled his stomach with his fists. One minute, they stood and smacked and slapped at each other, the next, they were tumbling across the floor, through the groups of dancing people in the glittering lights of the room. The moved aside to allow the boys room to roll about and continued beating each other to a pulp. It was Gavrail who stopped them, setting down his goblet and excusing himself from conversation with the elderly businessman to whom he had been speaking, darting across the room and wrestling Yulian from Yosif. "Idiot," Yulian hissed to Yosif as he was dragged away. Yosif retorted, out of breath, with a "Yeah, well you're a.." He couldn't think of a word. Shaking his head, and aching from the fight, he found a seat at the side of the room. He could see Gavrail scolding Yulian, whose nose had almost certainly been broken, before Yulian crawled away under the tables, and Gavrail had to kneel down and crawl after him. The chunky girl with the pretty face, arrived beside Yosif, seating herself next to him. She gave him a warm, flattered smile.

 

[Zdravko Olaf]

Zdravko could not resist winding up certain bag ladies in attendance at the wedding. The woman he had been winding up, however, he happened to know for a fact, had a pretty good kick on her, and he wanted to sample it. Which he did. After his little ride through the air, ending in his laying face-up on the solid floor, he decided that maybe it was time to socialise, a little. Unlike his brothers, Zdravko did not so much as sip at the wine, regardless of how much his father had hoped he would. Zdravko knew for a fact that one sip of anything alcoholic, and he would become as boring as a brick in a very unobtrusive and uninteresting toaster. No, he would avoid drink at all costs. Instead, he sprinted across the hall, and barreled into one of the other guests. He instantly sprung back onto his feet, grinning at the guest. "Hello there," he said merrily, "are you made of concrete?"

 

[Talia Benoit]

Why was she even here? Why had she been forced by her traveling sister to attend this party in her place? Couldn't she just attend the party herself and stop being in Greece for a day or two? Talia had grumbled internally the entire time. Now she stood, a drink in her hand, hoping to have a good time. But some wretched boy had come bowling into her, and had spilt half the contents of her goblet, onto the floor. She cursed in French, beneath her breath. "No I am not!" she replied defiantly, noticing the light smatterings of drink down the side of her top. She sighed, giving the boy a stern look, before easing off and rolling her eyes. "Foolish boy," she commented aloud, "running around like some form of animal.." What an idiotic boy, colliding with people because his eyes are rammed into the back of his head.. Naturally, Talia quite liked him.

 

[Petar Olaf]

Petar stood to one side of the room, speaking to a couple of girls in attendance of the party. They were friends of Yakov from his school days, and they both began to try their luck with Petar. He gave them each a smile, before informing them that there was another single Olaf brother, who could really do with some cheering up. Petar pushed aside on of his stray hairs, casting his eyes over at Dom, who was at last making his way across the room towards him. "Dom," he smiled, when his brother reached him, "I'd like you to meet Bianka and Berta." Dom gave them a nod and a greeting that consisted mostly of mumbled hellos. Bianka, the taller one with a platted ponytail of mahogany, began to giggle. Berta joined in. Petar smiled at them, then back at Dom, as if to say 'whadda ya think?' Dom sighed, and tried to allow himself to socialise, to stop thinking about the girl he never really knew. Petar decided to get the ball rolling. Berta had kind eyes and golden streams of hair forced back into a prim and proper bun. She seemed like the more understanding of the two, and she didn't look anything like Dom had described his lost love as being. "Right, well," Petar said happily, glancing over at Bianka who would giggle, now and then, for no apparent reason. She did not speak much Bulgarian, French, or English, the only languages that Petar had any small grasp on. Berta spoke Bulgarian quite well, though she needn't have, what with Dom's fluent ability in English. "Why don't you and Berta get a drink?" Petar turned to Bianka, at last speaking English to her, testing out to see how much she knew, and how much of the night they would spend giggling at the language barrier. "You speak English?" he said in an accent so far from an English one. Bianka nodded. "Little." As Petar had no intention of just leaping straight in with someone, the language barrier would mean it would take a little more time to get to know each other. Just what he wanted.

 

[Dominicus Olaf]

As the party drew to a close, midnight having been and gone more than an hour ago, Dominicus decided to get some air outside. He excused himself from Berta's company, and began to cross the room, noting the positions of those still left at the party: Petar and Bianka were dancing closely to the slow music. She cuddled into his shoulder. Petar rested his chin upon her shoulder, and though his eyes were closed, Dominicus could see the man within imagining his dance partner to be the girl he had once been so deeply in love with. Dom knew how that felt. He noticed Zdravko and some girl of slight build, sat together in the corner of the room. She was correcting Zdravko on his behaviour in an agitated tone, but Zdravko just grinned. Yulian was asleep under one of the tables, as Dominicus found out after almost stepping on one of his protruding legs. Yosif, surprisingly, was sat under the same table with some girl, keeping an eye on his passed out twin brother. Gavrail, Kristo, and the enormous moustached business wizard, were seated in the far corner, their drunken song clinging to the air. The other guests were either dancing drunkenly, swaying as they poured themselves another, or chatting to each other in emotionally wrought voices.

Dom stood outside the large building, staring up the stars and sky. The moon was cupped half by the darkness, and for this, Dom was most grateful. He breathed in the night breeze. "Oh, Andromeda," he spoke under his breath, running a hand back through his hair. The hand slipped onto his shoulder, and he briefly felt the scars of scratches beneath his shirt. He would carry his burden for the rest of his life. He had since learnt to forgive the Deimos, the werewolf who had cursed him. He knew now just how difficult these things were to control. One slip of the mind to take his potion.. Dom shivered. His hand dipped into the breast pocket of his shirt, searching for the piece of paper. He had left his jacket inside, so it could not have been for the speech he had made as best man. No. He fished out the newspaper clipping, the very small segment, and he gazed into it beneath the moonlight. She was just a name, now, a distant memory, a love lost. She had been the first girl he had ever had feelings for, and it felt as though she would be the last. His heart had been in tatters for years. Now it was time to move on. It was time to give up the waiting game.

A sudden shower of voices came from behind, as several drunken guests began to leave. They approached him with a quick, wobbly peck on the cheek, first the wife, then the husband. They both burst out laughing as they waddled off down the path a small, sober man running behind them. Obviously he was their ride home. Dom gave them a small, fake smile, thrusting the paper clipping back into his pocket. He did not know how long he stood in the showers of moonlight, and neither did he care. Dominicus was a man with much grief and burden still to shed.