I'm always here, with you...
The tension in the room was almost palpable, a stark contrast to the crackling warmth of the hearth that cast flickering shadows against the worn stone walls. Grim faces surrounded the large wooden table, each illuminated by the soft glow of the enchanted lanterns hanging overhead. It was a rare gathering, one pulled together not by duty or necessity but for the fragile hope of camaraderie in a world increasingly consumed by fear.
Molly Prewett sat quietly, her hands folded tightly in her lap, her cheeks flushed in a way that had little to do with the warmth of the fire. Arthur Weasley sat beside her, his arm draped protectively over the back of her chair. His expression was a mixture of nerves and anticipation, his usual boyish smile tugging faintly at the corners of his lips. The two exchanged a glance, and Molly gave the smallest of nods.
Arthur cleared his throat, and the murmurs in the room died down. All eyes turned toward him, curiosity softening the edges of the worry etched into the faces around the table.
"Erm," he began, running a hand through his hair, "Molly and I have something we'd like to share with all of you."
The words hung in the air, a thread of hope in a tapestry woven thick with despair. Molly bit her lip, her hands trembling slightly as she placed one atop Arthur's. He gave her a reassuring squeeze, his fingers warm against hers.
"Well, go on, then!" Fabian Prewett said, his grin wide despite the tension. "Don't keep us in suspense!"
Molly let out a nervous laugh, and Arthur's smile grew a little steadier. "We've decided," he said, his voice growing stronger as he looked at Molly, "that we're going to get married."
For a moment, there was silence, as if the room needed a second to process the words. Then the explosion came. Cheers and laughter erupted from around the table, breaking through the gloom like sunlight through a storm cloud. Gideon Prewett whooped loudly, clapping Fabian on the back as if it were his own victory.
"Oh, Molly!" Violet exclaimed, rising from her seat to envelop Molly in a tight hug. "This is exactly the sort of news we needed."
"And there's more," Molly added, her voice trembling but her smile radiant. She looked around at the familiar faces, her family in all but blood, and felt a rush of courage. "We're also—well, I'm—we're going to have a baby."
The cheers grew louder, mingling with gasps of surprise and heartfelt congratulations. Even Alastor Moody, usually so grim and stoic, allowed a small smile to tug at the corners of his mouth as he raised a glass of firewhisky in their honor.
"A little one!" Violet cried, tears glistening in her eyes as she pulled Molly into another embrace. "Oh, Molly, that's wonderful, I'm gonna be an auntie!"
"But how on earth do you two plan to pull off a wedding in times like these?" Elphias Doge asked, his brow furrowed with concern. "Voldemort's reach is growing, and you know the Ministry isn't exactly a safe place anymore."
Molly's smile faltered for a brief moment, but Arthur stepped in, his voice calm and resolute. "We'll do it in secret," he said firmly. "No big celebrations, no public announcements. Just us, our closest friends, and family. We'll find a way."
"We always do," Molly added softly, her hand resting on her stomach. "There's not much room for joy in the world right now, but we're determined to make some of our own."
There was a pause, a solemn moment of understanding shared among them all. The darkness outside was unrelenting, and the shadows it cast were long and deep. But here, in this room, there was a spark of light—fragile, yes, but fiercely defiant.
"We'll help," Gideon said suddenly, his voice strong. "All of us. Whatever you need—whether it's planning, security, or just making sure no one gatecrashes."
"And you'll need a dress," Violet said with a twinkle in her eye, already lost in thought. "Something simple but elegant."
"Flowers, too," Fabian added with a grin. "I'll find some, even if I have to charm them myself."
Molly looked around the room, her eyes shining with gratitude. "Thank you," she said softly, her voice full of emotion. "Thank you all."
For a brief, fleeting moment, the weight of the war lifted, and they allowed themselves to dream of a future that seemed just a little bit brighter. It was a rebellion of its own kind—a quiet, stubborn insistence on hope, they had no idea what was coming for them.
***
The preparations for the wedding began in whispers, small and secretive conversations tucked into the corners of darkened rooms. It was a delicate operation, one filled with as much tension as joy. Every step, every decision had to be weighed against the growing threat outside their fragile circle of light. Yet, for Molly and Arthur, the wedding became a symbol of defiance—a declaration that even in the shadow of Voldemort's terror, life could still find a way to flourish.
The Order's safe house bustled with hushed activity, a stark contrast to the foreboding quiet that usually pervaded its walls. Violet had taken on the role of Molly's confidant and co-conspirator, her expertise in charmwork proving invaluable as she enchanted the simple white dress Molly had found to add a delicate shimmer of starlight to its fabric.
"I'm not sure I deserve all this," Molly said softly, watching as Violet adjusted the neckline with a flick of her wand. "It feels... indulgent, given everything."
"Nonsense," Violet replied firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument. "You deserve happiness as much as anyone, Molly. Perhaps more. Don't let him"—she didn't need to say Voldemort's name for Molly to understand—"steal that from you."
Meanwhile, Arthur had taken to reinforcing their security measures, his face lined with worry despite the joyful occasion. He worked alongside Alastor Moody, double-checking every charm and protective ward surrounding the hidden venue—a modest clearing deep in the woods, shielded by layers of enchantments.
"We can't afford a single mistake," Moody growled, his magical eye spinning wildly as he scanned their surroundings. "If word of this gets out..."
"It won't," Arthur interrupted, his voice steady but grim. "We've been careful. Only those we trust implicitly know the details."
Moody gave a sharp nod, his approval gruff but genuine. "You're a good lad, Weasley. Keep that head on your shoulders."
Despite the seriousness of the situation, there were moments of levity. Fabian and Gideon Prewett had appointed themselves the unofficial entertainers, their antics lifting spirits as they scavenged for decorations. One afternoon, they returned with an assortment of wildflowers and branches, their faces streaked with dirt and their arms full of mismatched blooms.
"These'll do," Gideon announced triumphantly, holding up a particularly scraggly bundle of daisies.
"Hardly romantic," Fabian teased, but he grinned as he arranged them into something resembling a centerpiece.
The night before the wedding, the safe house was quieter than usual. Violet sat in the small bedroom staring out the window. The stars were faint, their light struggling against the thick clouds that loomed overhead. She couldn't help but think of Tom, of the last time she'd seen him.
The memory still haunted her—the way his lips had crushed hers, the darkness in his eyes. She shivered, shaking her head to dispel the thought. That wasn't Tom anymore, she reminded herself. He was gone, consumed by Voldemort, by his own lust for power. But the ache of betrayal lingered, a wound that refused to heal.
Alastor entered the room quietly, sensing her mood. He sat beside her "You're thinking about him again," he said, not accusing but understanding.
She nodded, unable to meet his gaze. "I can't help it," she admitted. "It's like he's always there, lurking in the back of my mind."
"Hey, no crying Alas, we have a deal" he said sitting closer a bit awkwardly. They have grown closer in these past months, Alastor was kind under his cold demeanor, even funny, he was still a kid even though he won't accept it.
"Yeah I know.... just" she sighed as tears formed in her eyes " I wish it wasn't like this" Alastor patted her back "I know... we all do"
***
The day of the wedding dawned gray and somber, but there was a quiet beauty in the muted light filtering through the trees. The clearing had been transformed overnight, the wildflowers Fabian and Gideon had gathered arranged in charming bouquets that dotted the space. A handful of close friends and allies stood in a loose circle, their expressions a mix of joy and vigilance.
As Molly walked down the makeshift aisle, her heart fluttered with a mix of nerves and excitement. Arthur waited at the end, his smile warm and unwavering despite the storm brewing on the horizon.
They exchanged vows in voices barely louder than whispers, their words private and sacred. The ceremony was brief but perfect, a fleeting moment of peace in a world spiraling into chaos.
Afterward, the gathering was subdued but heartfelt. They shared bread and wine, their laughter soft but genuine as they celebrated not just Molly and Arthur's union, but the hope it represented.
And yet, even in the midst of their joy, the shadows lingered. Outside the enchanted clearing, the world remained dark and uncertain, and everyone knew that the battle was far from over. But for this one day, they allowed themselves to believe in something brighter, something worth fighting for.
Violet stood near the edge of the garden, the fairy lights strung in the trees casting a soft glow over her as she looked toward the distant fields. The cool night air carried the sound of laughter from the tent behind her, but she hardly noticed, lost in her own world.
"Violet?" a voice called out, soft and hesitant, but achingly familiar.
Violet froze, her breath catching in her throat. She turned slowly, her eyes wide as they landed on a figure standing just beyond the gate of the garden path. Eve.
Her best friend stood there, her brown hair slightly disheveled, her dark eyes glistening in the low light. She was thinner than Violet remembered, her face sharper, the exhaustion of months in hiding etched into her features. But it was her. It was Eve.
"Eve?" Violet whispered, her voice trembling with disbelief. She took a tentative step forward, then another, until she was running, closing the distance between them.
Eve barely had time to react before Violet threw her arms around her, clutching her tightly. Tears streamed down Violet's cheeks as she buried her face in her friend's shoulder. "I thought... I thought I'd never see you again," she choked out.
Eve hugged her back just as fiercely, her own tears dampening Violet's hair. "I couldn't stay away anymore," she said softly, her voice breaking. "I've been watching from the shadows, waiting for the right moment. And tonight... I couldn't miss this. I couldn't miss you."
They pulled back slightly, enough to look at each other, their hands still gripping one another as if afraid to let go.
"You look... different," Violet said, studying her friend's face. "Tired, but still the same. Still you."
Eve laughed lightly, though it was tinged with sadness. "I could say the same about you. "
Violet nodded, wiping at her cheeks as a smile broke through her tears. "Come on. There's someone I want you to meet."
She led Eve back toward the main tent, where the wedding celebration was still in full swing. As they entered, a hush fell over the room, the familiar figure of Eve drawing curious and relieved gazes from the Order members who recognized her.
Molly and Arthur were the first to approach, their smiles warm and welcoming despite the surprise. "Eve," Molly said, her voice filled with genuine kindness. "It's been so long. We were so worried about you."
Eve smiled back, a little shy but grateful. "I've been... surviving. But I'm here now. And if you'll have me, I'd like to stay. At least for a little while."
Arthur, ever practical and kind, nodded without hesitation. "You're more than welcome to stay with us. We'll make space. The Burrow is always open to friends."
"The Burrow?" Eve asked, raising an eyebrow at Violet.
Violet grinned, the first genuine smile she'd felt in weeks. "It's their new house. Arthur bought it for Molly as a wedding gift. It's beautiful, Eve. You'll love it."
The rest of the night passed in a blur of introductions, laughter, and tentative moments of happiness. As the guests began to leave and the stars burned brighter in the sky, Violet and Eve found themselves sitting on a patch of grass near the edge of the property, away from the crowd.
"It's not safe for you, you know," Violet said quietly, her gaze fixed on the dark horizon. "You're still a target even if your father's... dead"
Eve shook her head. "It's not safe anywhere. At least here, I have you. And I'm tired of running, Vi. Tired of being alone."
Violet looked at her, her heart aching at the vulnerability in her friend's voice. "I missed you so much," she admitted, her voice barely more than a whisper.
Eve smiled faintly, reaching out to take Violet's hand in hers. "I missed you too. And we'll face whatever comes next. Together."
***
The wedding was over, and the soft hum of laughter and celebration faded into the night. The clearing was quiet now, save for the faint rustling of leaves in the breeze. Violet sat alone on a weathered stone bench at the edge of the woods, her gaze fixed on the horizon where the moon hung low, shrouded in a veil of mist.
Her fingers toyed absently with a silver necklace around her neck, the delicate serpent pendant cool against her skin. It was a gift from him—Tom. The memory of that night at Malfoy Manor drifted back unbidden, as vivid and sharp as if she were still there.
The ballroom had been opulent, its grandeur a gilded cage. She'd stood at the edge of the crowd, her heart racing as Tom approached her. His eyes, dark and enigmatic, had locked onto hers, and in that moment, the rest of the room had ceased to exist. He'd taken her hand, sliding the necklace into her palm with a rare gentleness that still managed to unnerve her.
"Hold onto it whenever you miss me," he had whispered, his voice a low murmur against her ear. It hadn't been a request—it never was with him. It was a command, woven with the subtle threat and intoxicating pull that only Tom could master.
Now, sitting in the cool darkness, Violet closed her eyes and clutched the pendant tightly, as if doing so might bring her some clarity—or perhaps, a fleeting connection to the boy he had once been. Her heart betrayed her, aching with a longing she hated to admit. Despite everything, despite the darkness he had become, she missed him.
The silence around her deepened, heavy and unsettling. And then, as if her thoughts had summoned him, she heard it. His voice.
"You miss me, don't you?"
It was a whisper, soft but unmistakable, carried on the wind yet unnervingly close. Her eyes snapped open, her breath hitching as she scanned the clearing. There was no one there. She was alone—or so it seemed.
"Don't look for me, love," the voice continued, smoother now, almost teasing. "I'm not there. But I am always with you."
Her grip on the necklace tightened, her knuckles white as her heart pounded in her chest. Was she imagining this? Was the stress of the day finally catching up to her?
"Tom," she whispered into the night, her voice trembling.
A soft chuckle echoed in her mind, dark and familiar. "Did you think I'd let you go so easily, Violet?"
She stood abruptly, the bench scraping against the ground as her legs shook. "You're not real," she muttered, shaking her head as if to dislodge his voice from her thoughts. "You're not here."
"Real enough," he said, his tone almost playful, though it was laced with that same undercurrent of menace she had grown to dread. "You summoned me, love. Or was it the necklace? You still wear it, after all this time."
She wanted to throw it away, to rip it from her neck and cast it into the woods, but she couldn't. Her hand faltered, the pendant resting heavily against her palm.
"Why are you doing this?" she asked, her voice breaking. "Why can't you leave me alone?"
The reply came softer this time, almost tender, but no less chilling. "Because you're mine, Violet. You always were. You always will be."
Tears welled in her eyes as she turned toward the woods, her fingers trembling against the necklace. "I don't want to be yours," she whispered, but the words felt hollow, her resolve cracking under the weight of his presence—even if it was only in her mind.
"You can lie to yourself, but not to me," he murmured, his voice closer now, as if he were standing right behind her. "Hold onto the necklace, Violet. Hold onto me. You'll find you can't let go."
Her knees buckled, and she sank back onto the bench, the cool night air biting against her skin. She sobbed quietly, her tears streaking her face as she clutched the pendant like a lifeline.
The voice faded, his last words lingering like a shadow in her mind.
"I'm always here, my darling. Always."
For a long moment, Violet sat there, the world around her silent save for the sound of her own ragged breathing. The necklace felt heavier now, a chain not just of silver but of something far darker—something she wasn't sure she could ever escape.