Shadow of the Veil: The Wedding March Remix

[sroni]

I’m finally posting the story I wrote for the remix.

I will post the link to the story I remixed (EDIT: Ishafel’s “Four Weddings and a Funeral”), but right now, I'm not sure where it is, and I am tired.

Story time.

Shadow of the Veil: The Wedding March Remix

It’s the spring, on a perfect day. No clouds marring the perfect blue of the sky. No frowning faces as Bellatrix aims her bouquet to her youngest sister. The wedding is in the garden of her father’s house, the bride in her mother’s white dress, with both her sisters as her attendants, and she is surrounded by her family. The two most powerful wizards in the world of her time both dance at her wedding, and anybody of social standing in the wizarding community toasts her marriage with her father’s champagne. There is classical music played by a cellist and violin. It’s as respectable as it can be. The day is perfect.

The day is perfect.

* * *

She met Rodolphus at Hogwarts. He was three years ahead of her, and didn’t care about her pureblood credentials. After all, Slytherin was full of pureblood daughters. But he was the smartest wizard in his class, the most gifted. In short, he was the best. And one thing Bella always got was the best.

One thing Bella knew how to do was plan and be patient.

She set about making herself invaluable to him in the Slytherin Common Room. If he needed an errand ran, she was there to do it. If he needed a fresh sheet of parchment, she was there, already handing it to him. She made sure to walk the fine line between helpful and nuisance. She played her game for her entire first two years. She knew that his friends made fun of her behind her back.

She knew.

The first summer had seen a bi-weekly letter from her of the work she’d done for school, the spells she’d practiced and their results. The second summer, she didn’t write him a single letter. She warned him on the train home that she wouldn’t — she said something about having more important things to do than try to be a penpal, when she’d see him again in a few months. Which was true. One of the muggleborns from her year lived in Sussex, too, and Bella had every intention of learning the proper uses of make-up from her. Muggles may be inferior, there was no doubt about that, but they had their uses, and there was no doubt about that.

When she returned to school, she’d perfected the application of the pale foundation, the dark eyeshadows blended expertly to make her heavy-lidded eyes appear larger, the wine colored lipstick emphasizing the shape of her lips. Cissy was the natural beauty of the family, and Bella knew she couldn’t hold a candle to Cissy’s shining bright looks, so she went the other direction, and instead of trying to outshine her sister, Bella chose to complement her, and be complemented in return. She stopped being his little servant girl, and instead stayed near his group, but never part of it. Close enough to overhear him say if he needed something, and to make it clear with the turning of her homework page that she had no intention of getting up to get whatever he needed.

It worked. He’d gotten so used to having her around that it drove him crazy to have her that close — and seemingly not caring. He’d cornered her in the hallway one day, asking her if she wanted to go to Hogsmeade with him. She pretended to think for a moment, amusement showing in her eyes. After a long moment, she said yes.

She knew her role among her sisters. She was the brains. She was the planner, the patient one. The one who would set her mind to something and follow through, making it happen through sheer force of will.

He wanted to make something of himself. He wanted to go far. He didn’t want to be a father — he had no patience for children, and didn’t want his wife to be pregnant.

That suited her just fine. She told him that he was made for greatness, and she could help him along that path. She would help him along that path.

He asked her to marry him on his last train ride home from school. He was eighteen, and she was fifteen. He was finished with school, and she still had three years to go. She said yes immediately, and made it as public as she could as quickly as she could. If there was one thing Rodolphus was known for, it was never going back on his word. He said he was going to marry her, and once she told people, she’d ensured that he would go through with it.

When they married, the sky was bright and cloudless, and war was still only a game that small children played, or memories that old men had that haunted their nightmares. It was not a reality. It would be, but she didn’t know that then.

Not that she would have cared. To Bellatrix and Rudolphus LaStrange, love was power. Love was power, and that was deliciously electric.

* * *

Andromeda marries in the summer, in a little church. Her family doesn’t make an appearance, which is peachy keen with her — she didn’t invite them for a reason. They aren’t speaking to her, nor she to them. She has the audacity to betray everything her family holds dear — her bloodline.

Her family isn’t there, but a handful of Dromeda and Ted’s friends are, as well as Ted’s family, and she’d rather have the few of them there then all of her relatives. At least her friends and Ted’s family are people she likes and trusts. She doesn’t like her family, and she doesn’t trust them to do anything other than spit on her, or attempt her death. There is cheerful music played by her new brother in law on his guitar, and much dancing. There is homemade cake and handpicked flowers.

It’s perfect.

* * *

Dromeda met Ted on his first day at Hogwarts. She was a year ahead of him, tall for her age, while he was small for his, with glasses that begged to be broken, according to the jerks. She took him under her wing, and protected him against bullies. They didn’t really have friends other than each other. She because she was a Black and nobody trusted her — not the Slytherins, because in her first year, she had made it abundantly clear that she did not buy into their “blood is everything” nonsense. She didn’t have the courage to allow the hat to place her in any other house — it had told her she was one of the few that would do well in any house. She had the brains of a Ravenclaw, the loyalty of a Hufflepuff, as evidenced by her remaining loyalty to her family, and the courage of a Gryffindor, even if it hadn’t shown itself — yet. In the end, she’d begged to go into Slytherin, because she couldn’t imagine how her family would react if she didn’t, and that was that. But she was a Black, and that meant no other house would trust her. Her older cousin, Sirius, didn’t speak to her at school — she couldn’t blame him, not really. Not when he was fighting so hard to be his own man, and not his family's.

She’d perfected the shield charm within the first few weeks of school, because of the hexes sent her way by the other students, regardless of house. Protecting herself had become a necessity.

Instead of friends, she threw herself into school. She didn’t make the outstanding grades her older sister did, but she did all right. Not that it mattered to her family. She could have been getting perfect marks, and they wouldn’t be impressed.

Ted didn’t have friends because he didn’t know anybody at the school, and he was a prime target for bullies. He was too small, too smart, too … something, to blend in and not get picked on, and not remarkable enough for anyone else to want to be his friend. She was the only person willing to befriend him, and he was the only person that didn’t hate her on principle. Even though they were in different houses, their friendship flourished.

Protectiveness and gratitude turned to mutual protectiveness and gratitude, which turned to true friendship; friendship turned to more. The last time a student attempted to hex her in the hallways, Ted retaliated with a furious flurry of hexes and curses, and the Slytherin wound up in the hospital wing for three days. After that, no one was willing to take on both Dromeda and Ted — they were respectively tops of their classes, and intended to stay that way. If anyone tangled with one, they knew they were in for the other, and even if someone won that fight that day, Dromeda and Ted would win in the end.

They were as inseparable as they could be at school, and she received permission to spend hols at his house. Her family didn’t want to see her, and that crushed her in those first years. She missed her sisters the most. She knew her role among them. Dromeda was the personality. She was the dramatic one, the entertaining one. She could make anything into an adventure. She would set a goal, and make it happen by trying different things until one of them worked, and turn it into an adventure for the moment and an anecdote for later.

The last time she saw her family (with the exception of her favorite cousin) was for Bella’s wedding. After that disaster, she said goodbye to them and never looked back. Her family loyalty went to the family she’d been adopted into, instead of the family she’d been born to.

The first time she went home with Ted was at the end of her second year. His family was so normal that it shocked her. Mr. Tonks, who insisted she call him Dan. Mrs. Tonks, who insisted just as hard that she was Sarah. Dromeda compromised by calling them Mr. Dan and Mrs. Sarah, and they took the compromise for what it was: an attempt to treat them as they asked to be, but to still show respect to them. Mr. Dan was big and tall, the kind of big that’s almost completely solid muscle. He worked construction, and his laugh was loud and booming and utterly contagious. Mrs. Sarah was smaller and darker. Her coloring suggested Middle Eastern, and Dromeda discovered she was, in fact, Israeli. She was a housewife, but there was nothing simple about it. She cleaned the house — not just neatened, but cleaned — every day, and made sure that there was always cooked food available. And her cooking was outstanding. Sarah was quieter than Dan, but her word was law in the house. She was cheerful and smiling, if not as prone to laughter as her husband.

Dromeda felt like she belonged with them. They made her feel welcomed, loved, and … family, quickly and easily.

It came as no surprise to her when Ted asked her to marry him, his mother’s ring in his hand. It came as no surprise to him when she said yes. Their friends and his family were certainly not surprised when they announced their engagement.

Ted asked on a Monday, and they were wed the following Saturday. The sky was bright, with clouds on the horizon. Rumors of an inevitable war were being whispered around.

Dromeda cared, but she didn’t know what to do, other than keep her new family safe. To Andromeda and Ted, love was protection. Love was protection, and that was warm fire.

* * *

Narcissa is married when the leaves begin to fall from the trees in a bright array of color, the brightness of the leaves at odds with the pervasive fear of the people living. War is here, and she’s terrified that Lucius won’t survive it. Her parents are months dead, one of her sisters never talks to her, and the other would rather talk to Lucius than her. Her husband and his friends have no time for music or dancing or toasting — they have too many plans to make to ensure the Dark Lord’s success. The wedding takes place in a registry office. She arrived alone, and she Apparates away alone, ignoring the fall of rain.

She’s married to Lucius. That’s what she’s always wanted. It’s perfect.

It’s perfect.

It has to be.

* * *

Cissy had known Lucius all her life. She told him when they were five that she was going to marry him some day. For his part, he never disagreed with her. Lucius was the best. Cissy intended on getting the best.

Lucius, too, saw Cissy as the best, and he had never been deprived of the best. Therefore, it was only right that they would grow up and get married. Their parents agreed with them, so the matter was settled even before they were teenagers.

They grew up together, the best of friends. They were both haughty, and frequently fought over who got nicer things, but they made up quickly.

Lucius was the most handsome boy Cissy had ever seen, and she liked pretty things. He was the prince in the fairy tale story that was her life, she was the beautiful princess, and it was only right that she get him. He was the goal she set for herself: beautiful and perfect, and could do no wrong, and she never let herself see whether or not the idol had clay feet.

One day when she was thirteen, she looked at Lucius with cool eyes. She’d learned when she was ten that he needed a queen, not a princess. He respected logic. Emotion was something that one hid at all costs. So she hid her emotions from him, and on that particular day locked them far down in necessity. Her voice was just as aloof when she said, “One day, you will be the head of a family. You need an heir, so you can have a dynasty. I will give you that dynasty. You will reign, but you need people to reign over. Choose me, and we will make a fearsome team.”

Cissy knew her place. She was the beauty. She was the perfect little china doll, the one that everyone wanted to protect and coddle. She would decide on something and everyone would fall all over themselves making sure it happened.

She was just fine with being the pretty one. However, she was not fragile and breakable like a china doll. Perfect, yes, breakable, no. Lucius needed a strong person beside him. She could and would be that person. She didn’t need to be coddled. She could do things herself.

She would do things herself.

Her little speech that day won Lucius the rest of the way over. She knew that he’d been beginning to get restless. She knew.

But he was hers. He was hers, damn it, and he needed to know that.

That was the day that he officially asked her to marry him. They were Hogwarts’ golden couple. Perfect. They were perfect people, who made up the perfect couple. They would live perfect lives, grow up together perfectly, and have a perfect future with a perfect family.

It would be perfect.

It would be perfect.

It would be perfect.

Cissy and Lucius are married in the autumn, with the leaves falling around them like death. There was no laughter or revelry, only solemn duty.

It wasn’t perfect.

To Narcissa and Lucius, love had two definitions, often simultaneously. Love was beauty. Love was duty. Love was beauty, but it was the cruel beauty of the ice of sculptures. Love was duty, and that was simply an icicle.

* * *

When winter rolls around, Sirius is married. It’s Midwinter Day, or rather Evening, since the sun has gone down on the shortest day of the year, and he is kneeling before the altar of an empty Muggle church, no rings, no priest, no vows. It’s not a true marriage according to church or government, but it’s a marriage in his and his wife’s heart. There is no one there to hear the words they say, so they say nothing, and the non-words that pass between them mean everything. Without words, their hearts speak.

It’s perfect. The moment is uniquely theirs, and will always belong to them, even though it happened because neither expected to live past the next day.

* * *

Sirius met Manda at Hogwarts. She was Lily’s best friend, and like Lily and James, Sirius did everything he could to get Manda’s attention, and she did everything she could to get him to leave her alone. She was interested in Mooney, not Padfoot. But Mooney wasn’t interested in relationships, and while Sirius was chasing after Manda, and Manda was discouraging Sirius, Manda was chasing after Remus, and Remus was discouraging Manda. It was a triangle that all three hated.

What finally won Manda over was when he quit trying. He gave up, and just started charming anything that walked by. He treated Manda no differently than he treated Lily, or Diana, or any of the other girls in their class.

One day, Manda finally confessed to Remus that she liked him, and he rejected her in the nicest way possible. She nodded once, twice, thrice, the tears gathering in her eyes and she refused to let them spill over. She gave Remus a quick hug to show him no hard feelings and fled the room. She made it to a closet before giving in to the tears. Sirius had arrived in time to see her hair streak past him, that long hair that he just wanted to bury his hands in.

He followed her.

She didn’t even have the energy to tell him to go away, so he simply held her as she cried. He didn’t try to make a move, or cop a feel, or take advantage of the situation in any way. He simply held her.

When she tried to kiss him, he tightened his hold on her so she couldn’t reach him. “No,”he said. “Not until it means to you what it means to me.” She crumpled and dissolved into tears again.

Somehow, they emerged from the closet a couple.

That was two months before they graduated. They weren’t sure what would happen when they left. How they’d handle dating now that they weren’t in school together. Somehow, they continued dating, even while Sirius was in Auror training, and she was learning how to be a Healer.

Somehow, they continued dating, even when Sirius was an Auror, and she was a Healer at St. Mungo’s, treating some of the people he brought in.

Somehow, they continued dating, even when Sirius had nightmares at night, and she was there to wake him up. Even when she tried to wake him up, and he lashed out at his terror in his sleep and she wound up with a black eye.

He left for a week after that. She managed to track him down through James and Lily, packed his things, and brought them, and him, home with her.

Somehow, they continued dating even when she could no longer go out in public, because Death Eaters would attack her, in order to demoralize him.

Somehow, they managed.

They were out one night, Sirius as an Auror, and she was along in case the need for emergency healing came up. James was on another raid entirely. Sirius and Manda went in with a group of ten. They were the only two survivors. They Disapparated to a church they’d seen on their way in.

They marry. It’s spur of the moment, which is so very Sirius, and so very not Manda. Her veil was the unmelted snowflakes in her hair, melting as they looked at each other. Neither wanted to say it, but they see their future as those snowflakes — lasting such a short while, before melting away, leaving no traces beyond a few drops of water to show that they’d been there. He kissed away the tears, willing to do anything to keep her safe, and she held onto him, wanting to keep him there just that much longer, before they have to leave.

The snow falls outside, biding them that much more time.

The next day, Sirius comes home to their flat to find the Dark Mark over it. He runs upstairs, hoping against hope that it’s for someone else. He knows what he will find. He’s not prepared. She looks like she’s sleeping, her hair spread out around her, the perfect frame for her face. She looks so peaceful. One wouldn’t know by looking at her the terror she had felt right before she died.

The marriage was perfect. Perfection falls down around his ears. The night before, love had been trust. It had been a living, vibrant thing, with the warmth of a cozy fire. Now it was the cold kiss of death.

* * *

Spring comes again, and after a year of beginnings, an end has come. Regulus is buried in Sussex, in the Black family crypt. The apple trees are flowering, the soft pink buds dancing in the wind, the scent perfuming the air. Everyone at his funeral wears black, the uniform black of mourning. His brother is not there. Sirius at least believed in something enough to stand up for it, even if Reg hadn’t agreed with him. Turns out that Sirius had been right all along. His mother remains dry eyed. His cousins are the only ones that cry for him. But maybe they weren’t crying for him. His betrayal had cost Bella power. That was the only thing she really cared about. His death had cost Cissy that much more beauty in an already ugly world. The pain of that loss was what she was crying over.

The mourners are tired. Tired of freshly dug graves. Tired of laying flowers in memory. Tired of gathering together for the same reason every time. Tired of so many friends and family members dying. Tired of the meaningless words of funerals. Tired of the platitudes.

Tired of wondering if next time, it will be their funeral that people are attending.

They’ve been at war forever, even though it’s only been a year. They are no closer to winning — it doesn’t matter which side you ask. They are no longer sure what they believe.

The world isn’t perfect. Maybe that’s what Bella and Cissy were crying over.

The world isn’t perfect.

The world isn’t perfect.

The world isn’t perfect.

END

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As I've said multiple times, I am more proud of this remix than any other one. I'm actually more proud of this story than any other story, period, except maybe Yesterday's Echo.

As always, I would love to hear comments. (I'll be going in and italicizing, etc, tomorrow.)