The Wedding
I: Andromeda
25th December, the day of Bellatrix’s wedding
Somewhere along the Ravkan coastline
A high pitched giggle causes Andromeda to smile, glancing up from the pancakes she was flipping. Little Nymphadora, already two years old, sat in the middle of the living room, waving around the yellow rubber ducks she had gotten for Christmas, smacking them together. She laughed every time one of them squeaked. Occasionally, she’d drop a duck in favour of pushing around her toy boat(which was on wheels).
“Dada! Dada!” Nymphadora squealed.
Ted paused his wrapping paper collecting(which he was weirdly excited to do) to give her his full attention. “What’s up, Nym?”
He barely had to wait a second before a rubber duck was flying at his face, bouncing off his forehead as he struggled to catch it. Nymphadora burst into laughter and Andromeda had to stifle a few chuckles, her shoulders shaking anyways.
Ted pouted. “Don’t laugh, she’ll do it again.”
“Again!” Nymphadora shouted and promptly through her second duck.
Luckily, Ted was more prepared the second time around and caught it before it could hit him. He crouched down and met Nymphadora’s eyes with as stern a face he could make(which wasn’t very intimidating, considering Ted was very weak when it came to his daughter). “Nym, what did we say about throwing things?”
Nymphadora stared up at her father with wide eyes, one a pale green and the other grey. Her lip trembled just before she burst into tears.
Ted’s eyes widened. “Oh- Nym, don’t cry.” he gave her back her ducks but Nymohadora only wailed louder before, once again, throwing them. Ted quickly picked her up, setting her on his hip and gently swaying her around, whispering frantic things into her ear.
Andromeda shook her head fondly. Two years later and still, Ted panics at the slightest things. Sometimes annoying, always endearing.
Andromeda lifted the stack of pancakes she’d made. “Food, Nym?”
Nymphadora’s cries ceased almost instantly. She lifted her head from where she had buried it in the crook of Ted’s neck. “Food?”
Andromeda laughed softly and nodded. “I made pancakes.”
Nymphadora let out a little gasp, eyes wide as suckers. An adorable smile bloomed on her face and she made gabby hands towards her mother.
Ted brought her over, slipping her into her high chair while Andromeda cut up a pancake into toddler-sized pieces and set it in front of her. Nymphadora dug in, giggling happily while she kicked her feet.
Ted’s arms came to circle Andromeda’s waist and she sighed in content, leaning back into his warm and welcoming embrace while he set his chin on her shoulder.
Ted tilted his head, placing a kiss on Andromeda’s neck. “You okay?”
Andromeda hummed. “Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be.”
Ted turned her head to meet his eyes with a hand on her chin. He gave her a look. “You know why. We both know what’s happening today.”
He’s right, she did and her stomach plummeted at the thought. But Andromeda shook her head, pushing those thoughts away. It’s fine. She made the right decision by leaving. She’s never been happier, she’s safe. She left, they stayed. It’s fine. They all had the chance to choose.
“Yes,” she said truthfully. “How my sister plans to spend her Christmas has nothing to do with me.”
II: Narcissa
The Black Manor, Ravka
Narcissa woke up the day of the wedding to screaming.
“Where is it?!” Druella shrieked. Outside her door, Narcissa could hear stomping footsteps. “The wedding is in four hours and I can’t find my Grandmother’s necklace!”
“Calm down, woman!” Cygnus’ shout followed, booming through the house. “We’ll find it! And it’s not like anyone there is going to care about a bunch of ugly jewels!”
More footsteps, this time going the opposite direction. “Ugly?! Ugly?! You listen here, Cygnus Black! Those rubies are worth more than your life!”
“Doesn’t mean they don’t look like something a dog vomited!”
Narcissa stood up and made her way to the door. She stepped into the hallway and carefully stalked towards the noise.
“I cannot believe you!”
Heavy thumps sounded as Druella descended the stairs. Narcissa creeped forward, peering down to the ground floor, watching as Druella glared up at Cygnus, both of them still screaming at one another despite them being inches away.
A manic cackle drew everyone’s attention. Bellatrix was sprawled over the living room couch, shoeless and still dressed in her nightclothes. She didn’t at all look as though as was getting married today, much less to someone she despised. She grinned widely, all teeth, and tilted her head. Dangled between the fingers of her raised hand was a heavy-looking golden necklace inlaid with large rubies.
“Bellatrix!” Druella cried, outraged. “How did you even get that?!”
“You should know better than to leave such precious things where I can get them, Mother.” Bellatrix sang.
“They were in a safe, in my locked room.”
Bellatrix snorted. “As if those could stop me.”
“This is important, Bellatrix!” Druella shrieked. “You could have very well ruined the wedding!”
Bellatrix’s smile faded a bit and she grit her teeth, a dangerous gleam that was growing oh so familiar in her eye. Her grip tightened on the necklace and the jewels scraped against one another. “As if a necklace could ruin the wedding you meticulously planned. The wedding, mind you, that I didn’t even want!”
“You ungrateful, spiteful, disappointment of a daughter! I have done so much for you and this is how you repay me?!”
“So much that I never asked for! I can barely even stand Rodolphus and you want to marry me off to him! You want this big, perfect wedding? Find someone who wants it and maybe then you'll find someone who’ll appreciate your obsessive behaviour!"
Narcissa held her breath, hands shaking.
"Enough!" Cygnus shouted, banging his hand against the wall. The portraits on the wall rattled with the force of it. "You are very lucky you have to make a public appearance today. The bride can't be covered in bruises."
Narcissa let out a breath, pushing a hand through her hair. That had been happening a lot more recently. Throughout their childhood, Cygnus and Druella rarely ever raised a hand against their children like Aunt Walburga and Uncle Orion had. They had mostly resulted to verbal abuse and emotional manipulation, aside from a slap here and there. Bellatrix had always been the most difficult to deal with, not really bothering to be careful with company or her surroundings and taking whatever was thrown her way with her head held high.
The Mark had changed her, that much was obvious. Her screws had always been a little loose but the Mark seemed to bash them free, letting the cage containing the entirety of her mind, damaged from years and years of abuse, fall open. The insanity had taken over her entire being and Bellatrix simply didn't care anymore. At least before, she knew when she could push and when it would be better to relent. Now, Bellatrix knows no bounds. She goes, and goes, and goes until you have to physically restrain her to calm her down. She'll dig, and dig, and dig herself into a deeper hole until sunlight is only a distant thought. All Cygnus and Druella's old methods were lost to the raging inferno, nothing more than wisps of ash scattered throughout the scorched trail of her wake. They were loosing control of one of the most powerful Heartrenders- no, Grisha of the Second Army, of the Death Eaters, and they were scared. They were finally faced with the monster they had formed and in a last, desperate attempt to force her into submission, they resulted to violence, leaving tender purple and blooming red as evidence.
The worst part? It worked.
Narcissa stepped back from the staircase, making it back to her room. She slipped back inside and rested her forehead against the wood of the door. She stood, just breathing for a moment, before rolling her shoulders back and turning towards her closet. She had a wedding to get ready for, after all.
III: Rabastan
Lestrange Manor, Ravka
Rabastan's morning was a little different, but no less tense.
He had woken up as he normally did, going about his usual routine. He did skip the getting ready part, though. Saints forbid he did and somehow got food on himself before the ceremony. Under any other circumstances, he probably would've said fuck it. He wasn't a slob, obviously(the Lestanges were far too dignified to be eat like they actually enjoyed their food), but with being only three days - two really, considering how late the Unforgivable Vow had taken place - into being left handed, he wasn't about to take the risk. The wedding and reception were sure to be hell enough, he didn't want to kick the misery into motion earlier than necessary.
When he got downstairs, Rodolphus and Reinhard were already at the table, eating whatever thing Reinhard's professional cook had whipped up. Probably not your traditional Christmas dinner but, well, that was the Lestranges for you. Somehow both terrifyingly traditional(they were about to take part in an arranged marriage today for Saints sake) and not at all.
"Rabastan, nice of you to join us." Reinhard said as he came to take his seat next to Rodolphus.
"Don't talk to him." Rodolphus said tightly. He was angry, so much so Rabastan could practically see the smoke rings billowing from his ears. The fork in his hand was slightly bent under his grip and his eyes were burning a glare so hot into Reinhard's head, Rabastan was surprised he wasn't screaming under the pain of third degree burns.
Reinhard gave him a hard look. "He is my son. I will talk to him if I please."
"You can talk to him once you start giving a fuck about us."
Reinhard's gaze narrowed. "What has gotten into you today?"
"What has gotten into me? It surely couldn't be the fact that I'm about to be married to a girl who, somehow, hates me more than I hate her, which shouldn't even be fucking possible."
"Cut this out. If you had a problem with it, you should've mentioned it earlier."
"Would you have called it off if I did?"
Reinhard ignored the question, spearing a piece of meat with his fork far more aggressively than normal.
"That's what I thought. And even if you did, you would've matched me up with some other woman whose family you want to tie yourself to because you can't handle having a gay son." Rodolphus scoffed.
Rabastan tried to tune out the question, focusing more intently on his food, but it was no use. The words wormed their way into his brain anyways.
Reinhard's shoulders tightened. "Don't say that."
"Don't say what? The truth? You nearly killed Wesley when you found him with me, and would have if Rabastan and I hadn't distracted you enough to let him go."
Rabastan kept his expression neutral, even when he felt his heart whine at the mention of the boy. See, Rodolphus wasn't gay, at least, not to Rabastan's knowledge(and he was sure he would know, if it were true). Rabastan, however, very much was. Well- bisexual, actually. Wesley had been Rabastan's first ever boyfriend. He'd brought him home for a few hours when he knew Reinhard would be out but they had lost track of time, so enchanted by one another's company to realize how fast time was flying by.
Thankfully, Rodolphus had stumbled upon them in the garden before Reinhard. It wasn't long after that Reinhard came upon them and Rodolphus had taken the blame. Wesley had been terrified at the display of absolute fury Reinhard had unleashed, kicking Rodolphus to the ground while he screamed at him for his 'filth'. Poor Wesley, who hard grown up in a loving household, with the worst thing happening being a few petty sibling squabbles. Poor Wesley, who Reinhard had pinned to the ground with his glare. Poor Wesley, who was only an Alkemi. Poor Wesley, who had his breath stolen for a dangerous amount of time before Rabastan had managed to break his father's focus.
"Don't say that you're gay," Reinhard whispered the word, as if someone might overhear him. "You're confused. The marriage will help you clear your mind."
"Like hell it will!"
"Rodolphus!" Reinhard slammed his hands down on the table. "I won't hear of it. You are getting married in four hours. Everything's already been set into motion."
Rodolphus stabbed his fork into the table and Reinhard's drink splashed over the rim of his glass.
IV: Regulus
12 Grimmauld Place, Ravka
Number 12 has been the definition of chaos since five AM.
The ridiculous amount of people that Aunt Druella hired had been slamming down the door in a steady stream since before the sun had awoken, not bothering to be at all quiet. Between the stomping footsteps, clanging only Saints know what, and Walburga’s outraged shrieks, sleep had long since evaded Regulus, who had spent a solid hour and a half with his face smushed under his pillow out of pure stubbornness, determined to hide from the world as long as humanly possible.
That hadn’t worked, sadly, as it was around six thirty/seven that Walburga had barged into his room, dragging Sirius by the ear, and demanded he watch him.
“I don’t need a babysitter-“ Sirius began but Walburga smacked him upside the head before tossing him down on the wooden floors.
“Someone needs to keep an eye on you, lest you cause trouble.” Walburga hissed before sweeping out the door and slamming it shut behind her.
Sirius sat up, rubbing the back of his head. “Fucking bitch.”
Regulus slipped out of bed. “Are you alright?”
Sirius scoffed. “I’m fine, Reggie. I’ve taken far worse and you know it.”
Regulus flinched but didn’t comment on the subject. “Are you hungry?”
Sirius paused and Regulus’ lip twitched as he headed for the door. “C’mon.”
Breakfast had taken much longer than it should’ve, with people always rushing through and Regulus having to constantly pause what he’s doing to stop Sirius from messing with the employees.
He had quieted down once Regulus had set a plate of eggs and toast.
“Happy Christmas, Sirius.” He murmured and Sirius’ eyes widened.
“Right, it’s Christmas. I completely forgot with,” Sirius waved at the chaos around them and Regulus nodded. His shoulders slumped. “I didn’t get you anything.”
“Don’t fret. I didn’t get you anything, either.”
“But you made me food.”
Regulus thought for a moment. “You want to do something for me?”
Sirius nodded rapidly.
“Behave today.”
Sirius’ expression dropped and his eyes narrowed.
“I mean it, Sirius. For once, just go with it, okay? Don’t- don’t get yourself hurt. Please.”
Sirius stood up, chair scraping across the floor. “I’m eating in my room.”
“Sirius- wait-“
“Happy Christmas, Regulus.” Sirius grumbled, picking up his plate and leaving the room.
Regulus slowly pushed his plate away, slumping down in his chair until his forehead rested against the cool wood of the table.
He felt overwhelmed with an urge he hadn’t felt in years. He felt pools gather in his eyes and panic surged.
No, no, no. Not here, not now, not ever.
Regulus quickly snatched up his plate and fled the room, taking the stairs two at a time. He slammed the door behind him, set the plate on his desk and almost instantly forgot about it.
“Stop, stop, stop.” Regulus whispered, hands gripping his desk. He found his own, pathetic gaze in the floor-length mirror beside the desk and the tears spilt over, clinging desperately to his eyelashes while they wore tracks into his cheeks.
Once it begun, Regulus was helpless to the waves of despair crashing through him. His shoulders shook as he bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, muffling sobs. He walked backwards until he hit a wall, sliding down the wall.
What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he love and care properly? How did showing concern for his brother’s well being end with him walking out? What was so bad about being cared for by Regulus Black?
Something, clearly, if Sirius’ response was to storm away.
Regulus stood on shaky legs and made his way to his bathroom, gripping the counter top until his knuckles turned white. He stared through blurry vision at himself. His nose was red from crying, blood smeared across his lip and teeth. Deep purple bags circled his hallow eyes and when he flicked his fingers, two old, thin, disgusting white lines sliced cleanly across his face, the length of his eyes.
Regulus opened a drawer and produced a knife. It was a regular old kitchen knife, nothing special about it aside from the fact that it had contributed to reopening his facial wounds time and time again. Wounds that had finally closed a few years ago, when he thought he had learned his lesson but clearly not. Wounds that he was about to reopen once more.
Because boys don’t cry.
Regulus slashed at himself, tracing the line his mother had left behind and he had simply followed. The sting was welcome and, once upon a time, Regulus might’ve flinched or cried harder but now, he sighed in relief. Blood dripped from the cuts, twisting and merging with the remains of his tears, painting cover the clean sheen with crimson.
Regulus let it drip for a moment, relishing the steady, constant, gentle throbbing in the height of his cheeks. It wasn’t until he heard the clatter of hooves outside his window that he rushed to clean up, before Narcissa and Rabastan inevitably showed up outside his door.
He washed off the knife and slipped it back into his vanity. He closed the cuts and cleaned the blood and tears off his face, making sure to wash the sink and his fingers thoroughly as well. Then, with a few flicks of his fingers, the scars were hidden and his eyes weren’t quite so red.
The door to 12 Grimmauld Place slammed shut just as Regulus heard another set of horse hooves headed for the house and yet another slam only moments later.
Yeah, neither Rodolphus or Bellatrix were jumping for joy.
Soon enough, there was a knock on his bedroom door, which he answered. On the other side stood Narcissa, dressed in a beautiful blue dress, the colour reserved for the Malfoys. Rabastan was clad in a red suit, the colour Reinhard had claimed for his family, not unlike Regulus’ own.
A weird thing about the wedding. There would be no bridal party and every person attending - aside from the bride and groom, who had their own specially reserved colour - would wear the colour assigned to them. The Blacks had dark green, obviously, so he, Sirius, Walburga, Orion, Druella, Cygnus and every other attendee with the last name Black would wear green. Celestia, Abraxas, Lucius and Narcissa(who wasn’t yet a Malfoy but was more an honorary one until May) would be in delicate blue. Reinhard, Rabastan and their cousins were in Heartrender red and so on and so on.
Regulus waved them in, gently shutting the door behind them. Narcissa went straight for his desk, setting down her makeup bag and beginning to dig through it. Rabastan just- collapsed to the floor with a dramatic sigh.
“Not a pleasant morning, I assume?” Regulus asked, a little amused.
Both of them groaned in sync and Regulus snorted.
“Bella stole the necklace she’s supposed to wear.” Narcissa said.
Regulus raised an eyebrow. “The one Aunt Druella freaks out about if anyone decides to even breathe on it?”
“That’s the one.”
“And Rodolphus stabbed the table at breakfast.” Rabastan grumbled into the carpet.
“He did what?!”
“You heard me. He’s fucking furious. I’ve never seen him so angry.” Rabastan rolled on his back to look up at them.
“Bella, too,” Narcissa said. “Started a fight this morning. Not physical, thankfully.”
“Rodolphus as well. Under different circumstances, they might’ve been great friends.”
“But nothing more.”
“Nothing more.” Rabastan agreed.
“Well,” Regulus said. “That sounds like shit.”
“And how was your morning?” Rabastan asked with a raised eyebrow.
Regulus thought back to literally five minutes ago as he walked towards his closet. “No thievery and table stabbing.”
“That’s the dream.” Rabastan said dramatically.
Regulus slipped inside his closet, flicking on the light and shutting the door behind him. If only it was. Regulus would’ve preferred the table stabbing.
Regulus began to change, slipping into his emerald slacks while Rabstan began to rant to Narcissa about something Regulus didn’t care about. He ignored them until he had buttoned up his white dress shirt and felt comfortable enough to join them in his room.
Narcissa groaned as she wiped at her eye with a makeup remover. “I can’t get this fucking wing right.”
Regulus brightened because outside of…earlier and similar things like that, he rarely ever got to use his Tailoring anymore. He crossed the room and gently took the eyeliner pen from her hand. “Let me.”
Narcissa glanced back at Rabastan, then at him. “You don’t have to, Reg.”
“I want to.”
Narcissa sighed and tilted head towards him so he had better access. Regulus gave her a small smile as he curled his fingers around the pen. Carefully, Regulus dragged his hovering fingers across her eyelid, giving them a little flick to create the wing.
Rabastan inhaled sharply when Regulus moved to work on Narcissa’s other eye. “You can Tailor?”
Regulus snorted and looked over his shoulder to meet Rabastan’s wide-eyed gaze. “I am a Tailor, Lestrange. A Tailor who just so happens to be very skilled at Heartrending. So much so that all of my excess power exploded during my Testing and they placed me as the wrong rank. Not like Mother and Father would ever let me be a Tailor.”
Rabastan met Narcissa’s gaze, the two of them having a silent conversation Regulus couldn’t properly interpret.
“Is there a problem?” Regulus asked.
Rabastan met his eyes and shook his head. “No, no. Just surprised, is all.”
His heart skipped a beat.
Regulus’ eyes narrowed. “Sure. Whatever you say.”
V: Druella
“There you go, my dear,” Druella said as she clipped her Grandmother’s necklace into place around her daughter’s neck. Druella gripped Bellatrix’s shoulders, resting her chin on her shoulder. “You look stunning.”
Bellatrix glared at Druella through the mirror, despite the statement being entirely factual. She was clad in black fabric from her feet to her fingertips, slightly ruffled layers creating volume as they cascaded towards the floor. Gold detailing was etched into the entire dress, matching the metal of the necklace. Her hair had been pulled back, half her corkscrew curled tied up in a bun. Dangling from her ears were the matching earrings to Druella’s Grandmother’s necklace, a precious ruby encased in gold.
“Loose the frown,” Druella scolded. “You don’t realize how perfect this needs to be.”
“Oh, yes, wouldn’t want to ruin your reputation now would we?” Bellatrix growled, rolling her eyes.
Druella gripped Bellatrix’s chin, even as her daughter attempted to bite her fingers. “Listen to me, Bellatrix. This isn’t just the reputation of the Noble House of Black that’s at stake. The Dark Lord will be in attendance.”
Bellatrix froze.
“Yeah, that’s right. What will the Dark Lord think if you can’t do this? What would he say if he saw his favourite soldier putting up such a fight over something so minuscule? What do you think it says about you, if you’d go through so much effort just to destroy what I’ve worked so hard on?” Druella trailed a finger down Bellatrix’s cheek. “You wouldn’t want him to see you as a threat, would you?”
“No.” Bellatrix whispered.
Druella smiled. “Good. That’s what I thought.”
VI: Reinhard
“You’re being ridiculous, Rodolphus.”
Rodolphus scoffed, furiously buttoning up his waistcoat. “So you’ve said.”
“This is serious,” Reinhard emphasized. He swished the glass of champagne he had stolen from the reception hall. “Think of how our family will benefit from this.”
Rodolphus shook his head at him, chuckling humorlessly. “I don’t know why I expected more from you. It was always the family over me and Bas, right? The Lestrange name over our happiness. You’ve never been my father, not sure why you’d start now.”
This fucking kid. Reinhard grit his teeth. “You don’t understand how much I do for you boys.”
“Ha! Enlighten me, Father.”
“I make sure we keep the fortune that lets you live the life you-“
“Life?! What life?!” Rodolphus shouted. “I am nothing but the prized show horse you parade around, doing anything and everything you demand me to! I don’t have a life!”
Reinhard jumped forward, tugging down on Rodolphus’ ear as he glanced back at the dressing room door, paranoid. Rodolphus was loud and if someone heard him, which wasn’t unlikely-
No, Reinhard doesn’t want to think about that.
“Rodolphus Lestrange, you will watch your tone with me,” Reinhard hissed. “Especially considering the Dark Lord is somewhere in this house.”
Rodolphus went pale.
“If he finds out you aren’t willing to make sacrifices for the greater picture, he will make you. And don’t think he doesn’t know your weaknesses. You’re practically an open book. If you want Rabastan to remain unharmed, you will continue on this wedding without objection. Do I make myself clear.”
Rodolphus swallowed.
“Do I make myself clear?”
“Perfectly.”
VII: Sirius
Sirius screamed, muffled by the tie Walburga had shoved into his mouth for that exact purpose. Orion brought his dagger down again and Sirius felt the skin of his shoulders split, the pain seeping into his bones and bubbling up as red tinted iron.
“I told you to watch him,” Walburga hissed, dragging Regulus into the office. She shoved him towards the centre of the room, towards Sirius, and he stumbled. “So explain to me why he looks like this?”
Orion reached over and clamped Sirius’ jaw harshly, tugging his face up for Regulus to see.
Regulus was pale, widened eyes taking in the wrecked, kneeling figure of his brother. Sirius’ waistcoat and dress shirt had been shed at his parents’ demand, lest he stain them red. Sweat and tears mixed across his skin, turning the eyeliner - which he, once again, stole from Bellatrix - around his eyes to ruined, black drips.
“Sirius- I- I’m so sorry-“
Walburga slapped Regulus across the face, the sound reverberating around the room. Regulus’ head snapped to the side with the force of his, a small nick blooming on his cheek. Sirius shouted around the tie, moving to get to his feet but Orion’s grip and another slash kept him in place.
“Do not speak to him,” Walburga ordered. “You speak to me. If you were watching him, why does he look like that?”
“I left him alone to get ready. I thought-“
Walburga slapped him again. “I don’t care what you thought, Regulus. If I tell you to watch him, you watch him. If he does anything, it’s your fault, is it not? You’re better than this, Regulus.”
Sirius thrashed his head until Orion’s grip slipped and spat out the tie. “Don’t you dare fucking touch him.”
“Orion, don’t,” Walburga snapped, glaring at her husband, who had his dagger raised for another slash. “Guests should be arriving. We do not need them to hear, especially not…”
Orion grit his teeth. “How else do you suggest we deal with this?”
Walburga glanced between her two sons, one who looked a second away from emptying his breakfast on the carpet and the other glaring defiantly despite the crimson rivers flowing down his back. “Later. We deal with it later.”
“Fine.” Orion ground out, wiping the flat of his blade across Sirius’ stomach in a shitty attempt to clean it.
Walburga forced a cloth into Regulus’ hands and pushed him towards Sirius. “Clean this up. Heal him.”
Regulus didn’t need anything more than that, kneeling behind his brother as Orion followed Walburga out of his office. His hands were up, healing the dozen or so cuts and then Tailoring over them.
“I’m so sorry.” Regulus whispered again, gently cleaning off all the blood.
“Don’t listen to her. S’not your fault.” Sirius grumbled, wincing every time Regulus got close to where the marks were, skin still tender even if there was no evidence of anything ever happening.
“It is, though.”
“It isn’t,” Sirius insisted firmly. “Get her out of your head.”
Regulus didn’t respond, only throwing away the towel and moving in front of Sirius. Expert fingers cleaned off his face, vanishing tears, eyeliner, sweat and the redness of his eyes.
“Don’t forget yourself.” Sirius reminded, nodding towards the mark on Regulus’ cheek that fuelled Sirius with utter rage just looking at it.
Regulus’ hand waved across his face and it felt ridiculously similar to a magic trick, the way his skin instantly smoothed over, not an imperfection in sight. Like porcelain.
Sirius slipped back into his suit, matching with Regulus. A white dress shirt, a green waistcoat stitched with ornate silver patterns. Both brothers lacked a blazer even though Cygnus and Orion both wore the same suits with the addition. Something about symbolism? Sirius couldn’t care less.
When Sirius and Regulus exited the office, Orion and Walburga were waiting outside for them. Walburga instantly clamped a bony hand down on Sirius’ shoulder, fingers curling tightly and nails digging into his skin.
They were led outside, where it was almost an assault on Sirius’ eyes, seeing so many fucking colours. Sirius could tell which family was which, despite there easily being twenty different families.
Walburga and Orion ignored all attempts at small talk made by the ‘lessers’ around them. They didn’t stop walking until they reached the front row and Sirius was forced into a seat near the end.
He took the chance to look around. He spotted Narcissa across the isle, fingers entwined with Lucius as he ranted about only the Saints know what. Rabastan was chatting with a Dolohov while some Carrows listened in. Greengrasses mixed with Parkinsons, Rowles with Taverses. Sirius took them all in, creating a list in his mind.
That was, until, his eyes caught on someone at the back. He wore a black dress shirt and a green three-pieced suit, a green several shades brighter than the one Sirius was wearing himself. He was the only one in that colour, and a snake larger than any Sirius had ever seen was draped over his shoulders and twisted down his torso. Sirius glanced around at everyone else and wondered how no one had yet to see him.
The man caught Sirius’ gaze and slowly tilted his head. He looked him up and down before he gave him an ominous, toothless smile. Sirius blinked and he was gone, disappeared somewhere in the crowd.
Weird.
VIII: Rodolphus
“Do you, Rodolphus Lestrange, take Bellatrix Black to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?”
Rodolphus stood at the altar, gold ring heavy on his finger, his hands entwined with Bellatrix. He grit his teeth and tightened his grip, nails creating indents along her palms.
I don’t.
“I do.”
IX: Bellatrix
“And do you, Bellatrix Black, take Rodolphus Lestrange to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?”
Bellatrix glared up at Rodolphus, every single fragment of her being alight with barely contained rage. If looks could kill, Rodolphus would’ve died ten times over. And Bellatrix would’ve laughed.
Never.
“I do.”
“You may kiss the bride.”