Chapter 15
In the heart of the magical ministry building, Cornelius Fudge strode through the polished marble halls, the weight of his position palpable in the air. Today was not just any day; it was the day he had forcefully orchestrated a wedding between the notorious Rabastan Lestrange and Petunia Evans, a Muggle with a penchant for the simple things in life—a juxtaposition that had captured the attention of wizards and witches far and wide.
As Fudge entered his office, a knock interrupted his thoughts. “Come in,” he called, adjusting the collar of his robes. The door creaked open, revealing Dolores Umbridge. Her presence was as unsettling as ever, her wide eyes glinting with excitement.
“Ah, Dolores! How is the bride? Is she ready?” Fudge inquired, rubbing his hands together with glee.
Dolores nodded, though her expression was tinged with uncertainty. “Yes, Minister Fudge, she’s ready. However, I must say, her choice of Muggle wedding dress is… intriguing.”
Fudge waved his hand dismissively. “It doesn’t matter what she wears! What matters is ensuring this delightful union goes off without a hitch. Just imagine the Lestrange family's faces as they accept this arrangement. Ah, Reinhard Lestrange—his expression alone will be worth it!” Fudge chuckled heartily, his laughter echoing off the elegantly adorned walls.
Dolores bit her lip, eyeing the minister. “I also arranged for Rita Skeeter to be present at the ceremony. But there’s more…”
“Go on,” Fudge urged, suddenly interested.
“Lucius Malfoy has decided to turn this solemn occasion into a circus,” she announced, her voice filled with disbelief. “He invited many of their Death Eater circle—almost everyone—and has taken it upon himself to decorate the hall with gaudy decorations. Flamboyant breakable glass and floating candles! It's as if he can’t resist taking center stage!”
Fudge shrugged, a self-satisfied smile playing on his lips. “Oh well, less work for us, then! Let him have his fun. After all, we are here to facilitate this grand celebration.”
Yet Dolores was not satisfied. “Minister, may I ask a serious question?”
Fudge paused, raising an eyebrow. “What’s troubling you, Dolores?”
“What if they fall in love, truly?” Her words hung in the air, tinged with an undercurrent of worry. “Rabastan Lestrange is no ordinary wizard. His family carries weight in our world, and if he were to fall for Petunia…”
Fudge threw back his head, laughing uproariously. “Love? You mean to tell me that this handsome, pure-blood wizard from one of the most notorious families in wizarding Britain could fall for that… that horse-faced Muggle?” He wiped a tear from his eye, still chuckling. “Did you see how she looked? Beauty is not something she possesses!”
“But if Mr. Lestrange ever prized beauty, he would’ve gone after Narcissa Black before she married into the Malfoy family!” Dolores insisted.
Fudge waved away her concerns. “You worry too much, Dolores. Now, let’s go make sure the bride doesn’t run away at the last minute.”
As they stepped into the hall, the sounds of laughter and excited chatter reached their ears. The venue was alive with witches and wizards, Death Eaters mingling with ordinary magical folk; the atmosphere thrummed with tension and excitement. Lucius Malfoy, dressed in his finest robes, was directing the decorations with flair, a smirk plastered across his face as he surveyed his handiwork.
“Has anyone spotted the bride?” Fudge shouted over the din, scanning the crowd.
Dolores interjected, “She’s in the dressing room, Minister. I’ll go fetch her.”
She glided down the opulent hallway, her heels clicking against the marble floor, and pushed open the door to the dressing room. There stood Petunia Evans, a vision that defied all expectations. She was breathtaking—an ethereal beauty with cascading blonde hair that framed her face and sat elegantly against her mermaid wedding dress. The deep sapphire of her eyes sparkled with a mixture of nerves and determination, a reflection of her unique journey and the transformation she had undergone.
Dolores cleared her throat. “Are you ready, Petunia?”With an expression devoid of emotion, Petunia simply responded, “Yes, I’m ready. Let’s go through this wedding.”
Dolores assisted her with the dress and the veil, an almost serene moment amidst the chaos unfolding outside. “You look beautiful, Petunia. But remember,” she warned gently, “after you marry Rabastan lestrange, be cautious. Don’t cross paths with other dark wizards and witches—you don’t want to test their patience.”
Petunia nodded, an understanding passing between them. They exited the dressing room and encountered Fudge, who nearly stumbled at the sight before him.
“Ah, Petunia, you look breathtaking!” he exclaimed, though internally he was grateful he couldn’t see her face through the veil. She still felt ‘ugly’ to him, yet he was too self-absorbed to realize how wrong he was.
“Now, we need someone to give you away,” Fudge continued, glancing around in search of a suitable candidate.
“But I have no family left,” Petunia replied, her voice almost a whisper.
“Don’t worry! I’ll have the honors to gladly give you away!” Fudge smiled wickedly, extending his arm with unexpected enthusiasm.
Petunia, although reluctant, took it. They walked towards the ceremony door, her heart pounding not just with nerves but with an undeniable thrill that coursed through her veins. Perhaps today was more than a mere arrangement; perhaps it was the start of something entirely new, something magical.
As they stepped into the grand hall adorned with Lucius Malfoy’s over-the-top decorations, Petunia’s eyes landed on Rabastan. There was something in his gaze—a spark of understanding, perhaps, or a connection that defied eloquence and ignored the judgments of the world around them. For the first time, she felt that maybe, just maybe, there was an unexpected magic woven into the arrangement of this peculiar union.
As the ceremony began and the wands of both Muggle and wizard rose for blessings and oaths, a quiet sense of hope began to bloom in Petunia’s heart. In a world that had often excluded her, she was about to step into a story of her own, one that could weave through shadows, beauty, and an uncertain future—together with the most notorious of partners.
Xxxxxxx
At the Ministry of Magic, beneath the pomp of chandeliers and elaborate decor, Lucius Malfoy stood with an amused glint in his eye, surveying the chaos of the upcoming wedding ceremony. His sneer was hardly concealed, yet there was a flicker of sympathy for his friend Rabastan Lestrange, who was currently donned in the most ridiculous wedding robes one could imagine—not because they were ill-fitting, but due to the sheer circumstance under which they were being worn.
Rabastan scowled as he shifted uneasily, a look of resigned annoyance plastered across his handsome features. "You know, Lucius," he drawled, "this is hardly what I envisioned for my wedding day." Crappe and Goyle, ever the comedic duo, were nearby, their contained laughter echoing as they playfully elbowed each other, clearly delighted by Rabastan's discomfort.
Evan Rosier and Antonin Dolohov flanked Rabastan, their faces an awkward mix of dread and amusement. As his closest friends, they had been reluctantly roped into the task of bodyguards to ensure the wedding doesn’t end up in chaos, a role they took seriously, yet struggled to maintain their composure throughout this absurdity.
Lucius stepped forward, feigning an earnest look as he smiled broadly at Rabastan. "Oh, don’t you look quite dashing," he teased. Narsissa, standing beside her husband, shot him a glance filled with mirth, the corners of her mouth twitching as she fought against laughter bubbling up.
"Cheer up, Rabastan! Your bride might be a Muggle, and she might not match your illustrious status in the pure-blood lineage, but remember—the veil helps conceal imperfections," Lucius continued, glancing at Narsissa, who was now busy stifling her laughter. “And you only have to endure this public binding. It’s really not so dreadful if you think about it. You won't have to share a bed with her.”
Rabastan’s expression darkened at her teasing. He shot a look at Lucius that hinted at deeper grievances. “I’m not worried about physical contact or how ugly she is,” he said through clenched teeth. “What concerns me is that you’re all enjoying this ridiculous affair. Your husband invited every wretched member of our circle to witness my disgrace.”
As more pure-blood elites filled the chairs, forming an array of judgmental stares, the tension thickened. The Lestrange clan materialized, grim-faced and looming, with Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange approaching Lucius menacingly.
“Lucius,” they chimed sweetly, yet their tone dripped with foreboding. “Let’s have a little chat about your rather... generous invitations.”
“What’s there to discuss?” Lucius laughed lightly. “Rabastan is marrying a Muggle girl to safeguard your family from Azkaban! Surely, that’s an act of bravery.”
The air shifted as Reinhard Lestrange, imposing and unyielding, strode toward his son. “Rabastan,” he said, voice low yet commanding, “I believe we must have a private talk about this ceremony.”
Following his father onto a secluded balcony, Rabastan listened as Reinhard spoke, his words heavy with gravity. “I acknowledge your loyalty to our family has been steadfast, something I have failed to recognize,” he began. “I know I have often favored your brother over you, left you to languish in shadow. But today, when you marry this Muggle girl, my leniency shall extend to you. You are free to choose your own path. I will not interfere.”
Confused, yet intrigued, Rabastan listened as Reinhard presented him with a scroll. “This is your wedding gift,” he said, and in that moment, Rabastan’s skepticism faltered. As he unrolled the parchment, his eyes widened at the sight of wealth and estates detailed before him.
Reinhard continued, “should you ever have children with that Muggle, I will accept them into the Lestrange clan. I will announce to the world that they are my grandchildren.” Reinhard’s voice softened as he produced a small box containing two wedding rings. “I found these in our family vaults. You’ll need them for your wedding.”
Rabastan’s mind raced as he took the gifts, struggling to comprehend the unexpected generosity from his father. Just then, Narcissa burst through the Balcony, urgency in her voice. “Rabastan, your bride is coming! Hurry!”
Panic gripped him, and he took his place at the altar, his heart pounding in rhythm with the impending doom of the ceremony. The doors swung open, revealing Cornelius Fudge, grinning as if he’d won the lottery. He seemed delighted to witness the Lestrange family’s humiliation.
And then she appeared—Petunia Evans. From afar, Rabastan could see her attractive figure, but the veil obscured her features. As the priest began the vows, he tried to focus on the task at hand.
“Do you, Mr. Rabastan Reinhard Lestrange, accept Miss Petunia Noel Evans as your lifelong partner through sickness and health?” the priest intoned.
“I do,” Rabastan replied, his voice steady despite the whirlwind of thoughts in his mind.
“And do you, Miss Petunia Noel Evans, accept Mr. Rabastan Reinhard Lestrange as your husband through sickness and health?”
“I do,” she answered, her voice soft yet resolute.
As the rings were exchanged, Rabastan slid one onto her finger and she did the same to his, and when he lifted her veil, a wave of surprise crashed over him. Petunia was stunning—her blonde hair framed a face that held the most captivating sapphire eyes he had ever seen. In that moment, his heart thudded loudly in his chest, and he felt an unfamiliar pull toward her.
“Now you are husband and wife. You may kiss the bride,” the priest declared.
Rabastan remembered his father’s words—that he was free to do as he wished. With newfound courage, he leaned closer, and she met him halfway. Their lips touched, and an unexpected warmth surged through him. For a fleeting moment, the world around them faded, leaving just the two of them, suspended in time.
In that instant, Rabastan realized that perhaps this strange union wasn’t as burdensome as he’d imagined. Maybe, just maybe, he could forge a life he never anticipated, alongside a woman who had unexpectedly captured his heart.