One Lugubrious Marriage Ceremony
and it makes me so depressed to see the gloom
The officiant couldn’t agree more with the music going on in the background when he entered through the floo. He had seen many (rushed) weddings in the last six months following the procreation law’s passing. But none as dim as this one.
There was no one but the bride and groom and their witnesses. Inside of a dark and very dusty library in an old home. It could have passed as abandoned were it not for the old house elf standing by the opening of the door, watching it all unfold. The groom was there, standing tall and in an intricate and very much aristocratic three piece and his robes, a bit overdressed but all to their fashion. He didn’t look at his face, knowing who he had to face. But at least this one wasn’t crying at the altar (there were no tears here) or enclosed in the toilets. He wasn’t fidgety, writhing his hands together. He was just there, standing still.
it's so different from the world I'm living in
tired of TV
Then the bride. Severely underdressed compared to her future husband. But, yet again, she wasn’t crying her eyes out or had the red rim of her eyes swollen. Her simple and short white dress could have passed for many occasions, weddings were not one of them. But he could say that she had made an effort. He had seen brides in nothing more than their school robes, their work clothes, and a simple frilly pale green dress that showed too much. Here, she was there, holding her hands together and her eyes casted down low.
won't somebody help me chase the shadows away?
As he prepared the papers to be signed by the four of them, he looked at the two last occupants of the room. The witnesses, chatting lowly between each other. They seemed more acquainted than the groom and bride. The music still played from their old muggle radio by the window. He opened his suitcase fully, making it turn in a small table at chest height, where the papers could be signed and read without disturbance.
“Are there any vows?” He asked the couple standing in front of him. He only dared to look at the bride as she lifted her head up, grey-green eyes watching him like he was an idiot.
“No, you’re just here for us to sign the papers.” She stated calmly.
take me through the darkness to the break of the day
He turned the papers their way so they could read it, a quill by the side with the ink pot open, ready to be used. The bride was the first to take it in hand. Dipping in the end of the quill, rubbing off the excess ink and then neatly writing her name with her own penmanship on the paper, then her signature. The groom was next.
With much less agility than her, he dipped the quill in, rubbed the excess off and scratched his name in the paper. Yet it was still clean and eligible. Some people just had the upbring to be able to do that. He could never, that fast and it would be a blob of ink staining the parchment for it to be unusable after.
He looked at the first witness as he stepped up from the armchair to the side of the room, the cushion poofing out some dust as he stood up. The man was marred and looked like he was a warrior with so many scars. The officiant gulped, he surely was with the groom. Two scary men together, one escaped from azkaban and one that looked like he went in to help him escape. But he was surprised when the man smiled his way, long ginger hair falling away from his ponytail as he signed his name under the bride’s. He really had thought that the younger one, looking even younger than the bride herself, would be her witness; they were closer in age. The officiant kept his mouth shut as the next song came on the radio.
at first I was afraid, I was petrified
kept thinking I could never live without you by my side
The young adult with big glasses shuffled his way over, smiling up towards the officiant as he signed his name under the neat scrawl of Sirius Black. He, comparingly, actually looked like he scratched his name in the paper, he hoped that his superior wouldn’t fault him for having an unreadable name. He pushed that thought away when he recognised the messy black hair and light scarring on the boy’s head. Harry Potter. A witness that wrote like a- He wasn’t going to finish that thought. He would be able to tell that story to his coworkers that very evening when his tour was finished.
I just walked in to find you here with that sad look upon your face
This was the last wedding of the day, he realised. Half past four. In the library of number 12 Grimmauld Place. He couldn’t agree more to the name of the house than any other he had met. Thanking the four present as he closed his suitcase and rolled up the certificate of marriage, he duplicated it and handed it to the most willing of the married couple. The bride took it from his hand, tight smile and still silence.
“I’ll be on my way,” The officiant announced once he put his coat on, turning to the chimney that still stood behind him. “Congratulations.” He told the couple as a formality. “Ministry of Magic.” The once bright and red flames turned green and then the man walked through, disappearing to his destination. Once gone, the flames turned red again.
you think I'd crumble?
you think I'd lay down and die?
Bilswith Wright was now married to Sirius Black. A man who couldn’t keep his scowl away from his face.
Bilswith was now a Black, whether she wanted it or not, it was the fact. The fact that was allowing her to keep her magic. And live freely. More or less.