I don't own Harry Potter; I just own the books that I purchased.

A/N: This is my first HP fic, ok, my first ever fic. This story takes place just after book 5. I'm completely ignoring book 6 (and 7 when it comes out).

The Bride Prologue

The streets were quiet save for a breeze that rustled the trees; however, this serene calm didn't last. Popping sounded from inside an alley as a woman appeared huddling something to her chest. She started running past the houses only to stop before a house of no particular interest. Walking up the driveway, the woman placed her hand on the front door. Her eyes took on a far away look until the sound of nearby popping brought her back to the present.

The woman crouched low on the front porch and set her burden down gently before the door. Pulling a note from within her cloak she tapped the parchment and softly spoke a long incantation over it and her package. Then, she slid it into the folds of the warm blanket that encased her special burden. Standing, the woman took one last teary glance back before running out into the middle of the street and bolting in the opposite direction of the voices that cried out for her to halt.

Three or more figures in black robes chased down the woman, but having a head start left her far out of their firing range. The race seemed won as she turned a corner out of sight of the Death Eaters. Her victory didn't last, however, as the Dark Lord appeared right in front of her. With a wicked grin he placed his wand between her eyes and said, "Avada Kedavra."

The lights went on at the particular house of no interest and movement could be heard inside.

"I'm telling you, Joe, I heard voices from outside, shouts really, and the sound of a woman's scream in the distance." Said a female voice.

"And I say you've gone round the twist, Margie, hearing voices. Really." Replied an irritated male voice.

"Fine. Stay in bed. I'm going to have a look-see." The woman stomped angrily down the stairs and yanked the door open swiftly, only to have her ire dissipate at the sight of a whimpering bundle at her feet.

"Well? What is it?" The man called down the stairs.

"It's a girl."