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Amery was not particularly close to Gabriel, as the boy was only directly related to Adrian, nor was he more than briefly acquainted with the bride, but he found himself sitting through an extraordinarily lavish evening at the reception regardless. An event where one Wilkes was in attendance, all were in attendance. Much to his displeasure. Not that he found his family any less endearing than he had for the past twenty-nine years, but being that his recent hobbies had included passing vital information to the Dark Lord to the now deceased Minister of Magic, it was, perhaps, in the best interests of all that he keep to himself.

At the moment, Amery was pulling black gloves back onto his freshly-scrubbed, pink hands, after leaving the washroom, eying the thick, piling snow desperately clinging to the bottom of his robes with distaste. An approaching figure caught his attention, however, and it was with a small amount of surprise that he recognized the silhouette.

"Brother," he greeted curtly.