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James and Gwen turned nineteen on the twenty-seventh and -eighth of March 1979, respectively, and their birthdays were observed by each of their closest friends in perhaps—or, at least, what Sirius called it—the world's smallest birthday party to ever exist.
True, their guest list was limited, but there was only so much trust left in the world, and with their birthdays and upcoming wedding so close in timing to each other, they figured to keep each of the celebrations tight-knit for obvious reasons. Only family and close friends—really close friends—were invited to each.
Peter could only make it to the marriage celebration in July, and Ted had a prior commitment to the Order that rendered him only available for the March celebration. Sirius, Fleamont, Euphemia, Marlene, Mary, Lily, Jackie, and Remus turned up to both. Sirius, despite his prior demands to act as Maid of Honour, was perfectly content when James offered him the role of Best Man. Remus stood in for Gwen's father and walked her down the aisle. Peter, though only an ordained minister through a short spell from Moody, officiated the wedding and declared the couple married by the end; Euphemia had been crying so hard that she missed their first kiss as a married couple and demanded that they re-do it at the reception in the Potter's backyard.
"The flowers are nice," Jackie had commented, first thing, when she walked into the household, "but I'm mostly just surprised you were able to convince Potter not to host it in a Quidditch pitch."
James grinned and gave Jackie a welcoming hug. "You'd be interested to know there are actually a limited number of things I care more about than Quidditch."
"Emphasis on limited," Gwen added, as she twirled her wand and strung up the final row of twinkling fairy lights. (Called so because of the entrapped Fairy Dust that gave the flickering glow, of course). She offered Jackie a smile and kiss on the cheek, and was overwhelmed, suddenly, with how much she had missed her. "I'm glad you could make it, Jackie. Feel like I haven't seen you in forever."
"Yeah, well." Jackie exhaled a sigh and slid her hands into her Muggle jeans' back pockets. "War can do that to you, y'know. Muddle up your sense of time. I saw you last year at Diagon Alley."
"Oh." Gwen's lips twitched; she had forgotten entirely. "Right. Well, thanks for coming, anyway..."
The wedding went over much too smoothly for Gwen's adeptness at attracting bad luck. Everyone who could go seemed to enjoy themselves, at the very least.
Remus, who had undeniably changed in his months off-grid, refused flat-out to tell anyone what he had experienced. But Gwen accounted for at least six new scars down his neck and face, and there was a new hardness to his eyes, a sort of anger that seemed never to dissipate except for as he was guiding her down the aisle to marry his best friend.
Peter, of course, was looking worse than ever, and had even begun to lose hair in some places. Gwen had never seen a sadder sight. He even began to lose weight, she noticed: Of course the war was difficult on everyone, but Peter seemed to be taking the brunt of it. Once so playful, by the end of 1979 he only cracked the rare, broken smile at any ill attempts of humour. Everyone had begun to take pity on him, and even the Order was growing cautious around him, in fear that he may break sooner or later; but he grew frantic at the idea of not working and demanded they place him on a mission.
