Getting married was absolutely terrifying. No matter how smoothly Gabriel proceeded through the planning, the discussions, and the actual event, he was holding back getting sick the second he could catch a moment to himself. He knew he didn't love Rachel yet, which might be the reason why he was finding himself so nervous as they sat at the head table of their reception, but he did honestly---he did honestly believe that he could fall in love with this woman. She was fiery with a mind of her own, and though some people might be irritated by it, Gabriel actually appreciated the way she took control of things. He had always been a bit of a follower, and it was easy to agree with Rachel because her reasoning simply made sense.

The reception did look fantastic. Gabriel couldn't believe it was all put together within two short months, but then again he was learning that Rachel was a woman who set her goals and refused to leave them unfinished. Maybe he should look at that as a good thing; surely someone who did not want to get married would not have put so much effort into the ceremony? Or she simply wanted to throw the most beautiful wedding of them all, simply because she could. He didn't know, and didn't mind not finding out as long as they remained content with each other.

He did find her very interesting, however, and that was the first thing a Ravenclaw looked for in a spouse. Maybe all of his concerns were for naught, and it was simply wedding day jitters. His parents had been arranged in a similar manner, and they were still quite happily married (and sometimes nauseatingly sweet about it, too). Gabriel turned and smiled at Rachel, pushing his chair out and offering his hand, "Would you like to dance?"

A chorus of glasses clinging supported Gabriel, and he flushed slightly at all the attention that was on them, once again.


ooc: guest list! We did our best, but if we missed someone let us know!

UPDATE! - An hour and a half after the initial report

"Diagon Alley is in a state of emergency, an earthquake has hit and shaken everyone and thing to its core. The Ministry of Magic has shut its doors---only aurors, hitwizards, and other authorized personnel may enter. Victims rescued from the Ministry will be sent directly to Hogwarts.

St. Mungo's is in a similar state; they are taking injuries off the street, but are overflowing and understaffed. Please, any retired healers, nurses, or medi wizards, your expertise is needed. Some overflow of St. Mungo's patients are being relocated to various wizarding locations outside of London, stay tuned for more information on that.

This day just keeps getting weirder-----tornadoes have struck various locations across the United Kingdom. Lanchashire, Bristol, Dublin, Hogsmeade, and Essex are currently reporting tornado strikes.

No---no casualties have been announced, as of yet. Hopefully it stays that way.



Sid--I'm just going to keep talking until you respond.



CHARACTERS INJURED 1-4 CAN RESPOND IMMEDIATELY! This will be updated as time goes by/we stop feeling evil

She'd been trying to get pregnant for months, of course being late merely one day made her take a test. That's how she'd been functioning since she had convinced Rafe to try for a baby--not that she ever missed a day, because she hadn't gotten pregnant and her cycle was on the bloody mark every. Fucking. Month.

Except now, the vial in front of her was fizzing and spurting madly, indicating that she indeed was pregnant.

Erin stared at the bathroom door, knowing that Rafe was standing outside of it, waiting for the results. She wanted to get up and scream and jump around and holler and do all the things she imagined she'd be doing when she finally got pregnant, but--all she could do was sit on the edge of the tub and cry. Cry! Not tears of joys, not from being completely relieved that there wasn't something wrong with them or anything like that---she was pregnant, she was going to have a baby and bring it into this terrible world where innocent people were killed for no good reason, homes were ransacked, buildings were blown up--why, why did she think this was a good idea? What had honestly possessed her to want to become a mother now?

The door creaked open, just a crack, and Erin wiped at her face, looking down, but--it wasn't as if he couldn't see the sparking vial of blue.

She probably should not have stabbed the cadaver as much as she did. Erin grimaced and picked up her wand, fixing the mess she'd made and pushed the body back into the wall of cabinets of the laboratory. That was the third time she'd done that today, and it was probably a good idea to just go home and forget about work, but Avis was out for some training session with the new aurors (Will was an official auror! Erin was so proud!), and she needed to be in charge.

Erin let out a breath and started back to the main tables, tying up her hair (which was a mess, holy shit--) and slipping off the lab robes because she'd splattered...something, on them. Ugh. Her eyes drifted across the room to her desk where she'd left her journal and...sighed. She wasn't very proud of herself, but at least she'd gotten a reaction from Rafe, right? It was something and...she...didn't know. She still didn't know what to do.

Fucking--stupid quidditch. Stupid cup, stupid team. Erin couldn't fathom hating a sport this much, but she was quite sure she could do without ever hearing the word quidditch again in her life.

She propped up onto a stool and swiveled around slowly as her shoulders slumped; as much as she hated to admit it, she missed that stupid boy.

With a pointed look, Erin pushed in the quarters, pressed colors, and,

"Voilà." Erin smiled though, because her own mother said that it wasn't real laundry, having buttons to push that told you what to do. But at the end of the day, her clothes were clean and they smelled nice, so, really? Erin didn't find a problem with it. "I suppose if you can't read, this would be a problem, but I think you're safe."

She gestured to Rafe's machine, knowing that all this muggle stuff may be a bit overwhelming (the pinball machine in the corner was making lots and lots of noise and flashing lights), but, well, she'd offered. And if she could teach a guy to do his own laundry (Will was such a pain, but he was getting there. Slowly.), then she'd done her good deed for the day. Adding onto the fact that doing laundry by herself was never much fun, especially when she didn't have a book or anything.

...augh, seriously. Laundry shouldn't be the highlight of her week. She was almost twenty-one, that was just sad, right? Merlin's beard.

"Go on, I promise it won't explode."