Quidditch League Competition Entry: Round 8

Voldemort Wins AU! - What does the Order do?

Task #3: Write about a bride who never ends up getting married, for whatever reasons. Incorporate her wedding dress.

Team: Monterose Magpies

Position: Seeker

Word Count: 2056

September, 1984

Resounding are the bells that toll from the soaring, grievous tower on the cold, sable, tempestuous night.

Dark are the halls that lead up to the rickety little altar, on the inside of a decaying bantam church, on the outskirts of what had once been Bristol.

Sound brushes against the old, cold, stone, whistling a slow, quiet, tune that is set to raise the dead.

Haunted is the old, loam floor.

A shadow of a person, both in figure and mind, stands by the pews – dressed in what once might have been once a floor white gown, long since marked with earth and blood, and cloak.

Speckles, not freckles, mark her nose. Blood of the slain raise with the image of her skin, sepulchral her expression.

"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy, when skies are grey."

Reaching out, touching nothing.

"You never know, dear, how much I love you. Please don't take my sunshine away."

Fresh tears fall where venerable blood stains lie.

"The other night, dear, as I lay sleeping, I dreamt I held you in my arms."

Little flowers litter the floor, petals unchanged, blossoms decaying in the same order in which they had been thrown.

"When I awoke, dear, I was mistaken. So I hung my head and cried."

Silence answered, her cold hands sending shivers down the poor woman's spine.

"Please don't take my sunshine away."

She shuts her eyes, reaching for something on the inside of her cloak – pulling out a small bundle of wands loosely tied together with a string.

Lightning flashes outside the bantam church door, illuminating several shadows as they appear.

"So I took their sunshine away."

A smile macabre takes to her lips as a dagger to her fingertips.

September 1983

"Emme?" the low voice came at the door, though the person did not wait for an answer. The mass of black hair had been tamed with a magical substance – gel.

"Sirius?" Emmeline Vance turned, the tight curls of her up-do brushing against her neck in the mirror, blushing as she met his eyes. "What are you doing in here?"

"I had to see you," he replied, offering her a gentle look. "You look breathtaking."

Standing, the soft fabric of the gown swished around her and she instinctively touched her stomach – as she always did since the bump had grown larger. "You know it is bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding."

"If the world were normal, my dear Emme," he whispered, closing the gap between them, taking her hands. "I would abide by such silly old traditions, but Death Eaters could appear at any moment…"

"I'm sorry that they are not here," Emme stated abruptly, touching his face with her fingertips; meeting his dark eyes with her blue ones – seeing the pain that he wore behind his irises. "At least in the way that you would wish."

Tears brimmed at the corner of the young man's eyes, despite his efforts to smile through it. It was pointless to dwell on what might have been. There were too many ifs in the world as it was – it was far too dangerous to stray from keeping all one's focus on staying alive.

It had been nearly two years to the month since James Potter had been murdered, most brutally, by King – then Lord – Voldemort. The target, of course, had been the child – Harry.

"Do you think…" he asked, suddenly in the silence. "She might be still alive?"

He was referring to Lily of course, who had been Imperiused into standing aside while her child was murdered.

"There is always hope," Emmeline replied, though the words were more for comfort – Lily probably had been killed shortly after Harry – but no news of that sort had ever been released.

"Yes. Well, we do have little Neville."

Emmeline snorted, risking Sirius' temper. "We've already lost so many; do we really need to endanger poor Neville too?"

Sirius sighed, clearly having had this argument before. "Frank and Alice hold the key now. They know it; I know it. The Order needs to keep fighting, to keep hope-"

"What we need to do is live," Emmeline protested. "Fight on by living to fight another day. We could go abroad, reach out to the other wizarding schools – like Ivernmorny-"

"Emme," he whispered, putting his forehead against hers gently, his hands going to her waist. "You are my sunshine. As long as we are together, I can fight through anything – and will fight through anything. Even if they throw me into Azkaban, as long as you exist in the world – I can survive anything this world throws at me."

"Oh Sirius," she breathed, leaning into his touch, shutting her eyes.

"Sirius Black! You get out of that room this instant!" a familiar voice called out suddenly from the bowels of the underground hobbit hole, the large, round, wooden door capturing the sound and the walls creating a megaphone with the earth.

"Ah, I've been found out," he chuckled gently, kissing her quickly. "Remember, it's the little church in Bristol where we met summer of fifth year."

"How can I forget?" she queried happily, watching him as he dodged Molly's hand upon entering the doorway.

How could any of them forget?

Going back to the vanity, Emmeline sat and stared hard at her reflection. For a young woman, her skin had more lines and wrinkles than many her age.

The war was over, and all she had left was the Order. None of them had expected to lose, after all – they had Dumbledore on their side; how could they possibly lose?

Since the Potters' deaths, Dumbledore had not been seen, and Hogwarts had fallen quickly into the hands of the Death Eaters as the world around them crumbled into an apocalypse worse than any nightmare.

Picking up her lipstick, Emmeline hesitated – the colour was a deep red, to match the shoes Molly had so kindly provided.

But it was the colour of blood – and the rivers now ran with it. They had already been driven from their homes, living moment to moment – trying to find ways to stay undetected, trying to find ways to fight. There simply were not many of them left now, and those who were alive – wanted to live and live well.

"Emmeline, dear," Molly spoke, gently as always, breaking her concentration. "We need to aparate soon."

Nodding, the young bride stood; quickly coating her lips with the colour. "I'm ready."

Resounding are the bells that toll from the soaring, grievous tower on the cold, sable, tempestuous night.

The church was akin to an old fraying sweater, rough at the edges, but rustic and warm on the inside. Yet somehow, it was perfect.

Flower baskets had been charmed to precede her down the aisle, strewing rew and white petals round the edges of the pews where a scattering of the Order sat.

Moody, with his wandering eye, stood at the entrance to the church with her, placing wards of several kinds.

"There, that ought to do it," he grumbled, tucking his wand back into his jacket pocket, before shuffling around. "Ready?"

"Yes," she replied, taking his arm as he offered it.

"It's not too late you know," Moody offered, patting her hand softly. "You both could run off, live in sin…"

Smiling, despite her desire to run away from it all, Emmeline heard the soft sound of the violin music - enchanted by Lupin, who was standing behind Sirius not too far from them now - and started walking towards it. The werewolf looked like he had been through hell, fresh scars lingered on his face and neck that no amount of Muggle makeup could hide.

Sirius looked happier than he had in ages, but the extent of his expression was limited to his eyes.

Heads turned in their seats, and she felt guilty as she gazed into the faces of her friends. Arthur, who looked very much alone without his gaggle of children, seated next to Molly. None of the men had wanted to Molly to join the Order, but she had told them "...there is nothing you can do to prevent me from protecting my family." She had sort of become the glue that held Sirius, Lupin and a few of the veteran members together through the tough times.

Aberforth, who had become surprisingly active in the wake of his brother's disappearance, nodded at her gently. Arabella Figg was also there, sitting with Benjy Fenwick, who Emmeline supposed was her guardian. Elphias Doge was standing nervously with the ever colourful Dedalus Diggle; both men shifting their gaze to and fro. Minerva McGonagall, who was by far her closest friend in the Order, was standing on the bride's side of the altar.

There were some of course, who had joined the Order after the public rise of Lord Voldemort. Andromeda Tonks was not present, but she had sent her best wishes through a patronus. Former teachers at the school like Sprout and Flitwick were also in the Order, but they rarely made appearances. There were more, or had been more, who had rapidly joined the Order's ranks after the slaughter of the Potters - but -

"Look," Lupin whispered, "Your future bride."

Sirius nodded, smiling, reaching out to take her hands as Barty Crouch Jr. cleared his throat to begin the ceremony. While so many of the Ministry had fled and renounced their titles, there were a few who had stayed loyal to the old world - the good world - like Barty, Kingsley, and the Minister of Magic.

"Right," Barty said, his eye flickering to Emmeline's stomach before continuing. "We are gathered today for the joining of these two souls, before this….congregation. If anyone here has cause to object to this union, speak now or forever hold your peace."

To Emmeline, it felt like the longest, most awkward, pause she had lived through - and everyone in the room seemed to feel the same. Sirius held tender countenance while she giggled at the thought of it being over shortly; they would be a family soon.

"No one?" Barty asked, looking around, leaning over the alter. "Ah, well." He jerked his arm suddenly, a wand appearing at his fingertips. "Avada Kedavra!" The shot of green light burst forth, hitting Moody square in the chest as Sirius pushed Emmeline back out of the line of fire.

"Starting without me, cousin?" an unfamiliar voice cooed, followed by the disillusioned forms of the members of Voldemort's inner circle. Sirius screamed as the Cruciatus curse hit him.

She didn't have time to pull her wand from her hair, as the cold, clammy, hands of Barty Crouch Jr. grasped her harshly; his wand pushing into the divot between her ear and her neck. "Don't be hasty." he chimed in her ear.

The agonised cries of her friends filled the church like that of fallen angels. Blood dribbling from the mouths of those who were met with spells from the wand of Severus Snape. The white wisps of magic signalled members of the Order were retreating, the few that could leave alive.

Emmeline couldn't cry out for Sirius as he fell writhing like a worm at her feet until he moved no more.

Pain ripped through her abdomen, into her legs, feet, and up her spine until the world went dark.

September, 1984

Pressed did the dagger against the fabric, blood drawing against the steel of the ill tempered blade.

Impatient are the hands that are shaking, the child inside awakening.

Soft, are the footsteps, cloaked as the person beneath.

"Emmeline," a voice whispers, straight from the unfinished grave.

"I'm coming sunshine," she whispers, going to plunge the dagger in.

"Emmeline," the ghost repeats, it's hand taking the dagger at it's hilt.

A face lit in the darkness, making Emmeline's blue eyes go wide.

More shadows stand reticent, their cloaks moving gently in a self made wind.

"Look at me, Emmeline," the ghost commands, her green eyes and read hair gleaming against the ghoulish night. "We are free to fight."

Resounding are the bells that toll from the soaring, grievous tower on the cold, sable, tempestuous night.

"We will rise from the ashes."