Author's Notes: Written for the third History Appreciation assignment for Camp Potter – write about Druella Black. I used the additional prompt "Marry Me" by Emilie Autumn.

Warning: Matters relating to arranged marriages and generally unpleasant husbands.

)O(

Druella had never wanted Cygnus Black.

He was but a few years her senior, but he gave off a sense of oldness nonetheless that contrasted unpleasantly with the displays of lust typical of his age. Druella could not help but feel discomfort when he looked at her, when he kissed her and when his hands brushed over her breasts – the discomfort that she would have felt if someone her father's age touched her. He disgusted her, and if she dared to voice her feelings, she would be attacked from all sides. Her parents would say that she didn't understand why it was so important that she marry him (she didn't) and her friends would say that he was handsome and mature and she was mad not to want him.

But she didn't want him.

On their wedding day, after the ceremony and during the extravagant reception, Druella stood beside the table with the drinks and downed glass after glass of wine. She could feel disapproving stares drilling into her, and she didn't care in the slightest. All she felt was mild distaste whenever she saw her husband.

He approached her with a smile on his face and took her free hand.

"Druella. Druella Black. My wife."

"Your wife," she echoed hollowly.

"You and I will be very happy together," Cygnus assured her, taking her hand and kissing it. Druella resisted the urge to scoff, and then to gag, for he smelled foul – that sickening combination of bad breath and sweet perfume that only unpleasant rich men could achieve. When he looked up at her again, she forced herself to smile, though it was more of a grimace.

"Dance with me, my dear Druella."

"Of course, of course," she said, and took a last deep gulp of wine before she let him usher her into the centre of the ballroom. Maybe if she got drunk enough, she wouldn't be able to think about how much she loathed the man she was dancing with.

She caught sight of Abraxas Malfoy, hunched against the far wall with a wine glass in his own hand. He was glaring at her and Cygnus, and when she caught his eye, he looked away.

Abraxas would have been a better husband. He was handsome and strong and smelled better than Cygnus. She would have taken him as a lover in a heartbeat, without a second of regret, if he would only have her. She could think about having Abraxas's children without wanting to gag, as she did every time the prospect of bearing Cygnus's sons came to her mind.

Druella watched him for the rest of the evening, hoping to share another look with him, but by the time Cygnus let her stop dancing, Abraxas had already gone and her stomach had settled into a knot.

"We should go," Cygnus murmured in her ear, his voice low and lecherous. "Enjoy our wedding night…"

"I- I need a moment," Druella told him. She pulled away, keeping her eyes down, and slipped out of the ballroom, discreetly picking up a glass as she exited. In the corridor – mercifully empty – she sank to the ground and smashed the glass against the floor, then used the shards to slit her thighs. The pain made her wince and brought tears to her eyes, but it was worth it to put blood on her dress. She couldn't stand the thought of going to bed with Cygnus that night. She didn't know how she'd ever stand it.

She knelt with the broken glass in her hands and allowed a few tears to spill down her cheeks.

Why did she have to marry him?

Her parents had told her that se was lucky to have a husband like Cygnus Black. Lucky to share the bed of a member of such a prestigious family. Lucky, even though it felt more as if her family was marrying his name than she was marrying him.

And if she was so lucky, why did she feel so empty?

)O(

Fin