Chapter Three:
The announcement had been made. Three of the girls were untouchable, and they had to be wed in order to produce. Every eligible bachelor was crossing his fingers that night, hoping he would not be tied to one girl for the rest of his life. Only Snape and a few of the other, older men were not worried. Draco's only wish was that, if he were chosen, he would be wed to Luna. Of course, he didn't really want to be chosen at all. Forced marriage was not exactly the way he had planned on putting Luna into his life. He felt helpless against his master's decisions. Voldemort walked into the room and they all stood. He sat down, and for a moment reveled in the small power, then he waved his hand and they sat with the subtle creak of leather on the chairs.
"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. I hope you are prepared for what the future might hold for three of you. Keep in mind that this is not a choice. On that note," he said, waving his wand, "The results are in. Look down at the table." Draco looked down. Nothing was there. He almost sighed in relief, but that would tell Luna, who was in a chair at the front of the room with the twins, that she was not wanted. He looked back up and around. Two young men, a few years older than Draco, unrolled a bit of parchment. They both sat back, looking beaten. Draco looked around again, looking for the third groom. Snape sat, parchment in one hand, looking shocked and pale.
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He had not expected this. He was too old. He had never even performed a sexual act in his life. But most importantly, he had been her teacher. He could not overcome the barrier that placed between them. He could not. He told Voldemort so, mentally. His response was laughter and the simple statement, "I thought it would be interesting." Snape almost shouted that he was not some sort of perverse form of entertainment, but he shut up, realizing what a horrible mistake that would be.
"Well, gentlemen. Tomorrow you are married men. I'm afraid I must retire. Good night," Voldemort said, and with that, he left.
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It was late. Ten o'clock, maybe later, when they were ushered into a room where an achingly thin, horsey-looking woman waited, a rack of robes behind her in varying shades of white. The three girls formed a line. Padma went first.
"I should say that you two are the same size and complexion, so you can wear the same style dresses," the woman said, looking pointedly at the twins. She waved her wand and Padma, standing on a platform in front of a mirror, was no longer in her slightly ragged robes into a cream colored robe that looked exellent against her dark, Indian skin, with elaborate beaded embroidery on the collar and sleeves. The sleeves were shaped like bells, and the dress, after a wave of the wand from the skinny woman, was form fitted, like a second skin from her neck to her hips, where the robe flared out appealingly. Padma twirled in the mirror, smiling for the first time in several days.
"It's a good thing you're not horribly fat," the woman said, and Padma frowned, her hands on her hips.
"Yes, this should do nicely. Lets get the other one up here and fit it to her," another woman said, looking tired and impatient.
Parvati stepped up and a robe was magicked onto her. It had, rather than beads, a colorful, floral embroidery, but was otherwise the same. It was fitted, becoming a second skin, and she was ushered off the pedastal, both of the dresses being replaced by their old robes. Luna stepped up, not really wanting to be fitted for a robe, but had little choice.
Luna's robes, of course, were very different from the Patil twins' robes simply because she was far paler and very different from them in most ways. Her sleeves were skin tight rather than bell-like, and her lower half poofed out rather than flared. Her robe had a pinkish-tint, rather than cream, and the neckline was extremely elaborate. Of course, Luna barely cast a glance at the mirror, not feeling pretty or sexy in the least. She felt the torso tighten like a fist. She didn't like it. She could barely breathe. She stepped off the platform quickly, the robe being replaced with her old ones, the ones she could breathe in.
When Luna thought about the events of tomorrow, she felt a cold numb set in. She didn't know which of the three she was going to marry, but she knew none of them was the one she wanted. She knew they were all three praying they were not put with Snape, but Luna knew one of them would be, and there was a one in three chance it was her.
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We interrupt this program to bring you an author's note...
A/N: I thought about separating this next part into a seperate chapter, but decided I did not want to waste computer memory space. Also, I just wanted to write this really really bad. Really bad. I wanted to get it over and done with. Over.
Ok, I'm done. : D
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Severus lowered himself into his favorite chair in the darkest, coldest corner of the room. He had in one hand a bottle of Firewhiskey, in the other hand the bit of parchment with her name scrawled across it. The bottle was half empty already. Or was it half full? Who cares, Snape thought. Not me. He laughed.
Luna Lovegood, the paper taunted. It seemed to scream nyah nyah nyah nyah nyah, you've gotta marry her! In the fireplace, a fire burned, but it gave no warmth. The only warmth Snape cared to feel at the moment was churning about in his stomach. Churning. He felt a bit sick. So he crawled wretchedly into the bathroom and vomitted. He looked at the bottle, still in his hand.
Oh, he thought cynically. Not half full. Not even half empty. Just empty. He got to his knees painstakingly and turned on the cold water and stopped up the sink with the little rubber stopper. After that he must have dozed, because when he jerked to awareness, cold water had spilled over the edge of the sink, onto his front and into the floor. He turned the water off and splashed his face, then rubbed soap onto it and rinsed. After all, you are getting married tomorrow, he mocked at himself.
He unstopped the sink and lay down on the cold, sterile tile of the bathroom, in a puddle of cold water. He fell asleep. In another room, Luna fell asleep on the cold stone floor of the cell-like room, the twins laying on the only cot.
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Luna woke up, a song in her mind so strongly she began to hum it. It was the traditional wedding song.
Here comes the bride...
"Oh, shut up, Loony. Padma, I feel horrible. What if it's Snape?" Parvati said. Luna felt rather sick herself. She did not want to get married today. She sat on the cold floor, the only place the twins allowed her. She didn't mind though. As long as she was alive, breathing, and allowed food, she would be at least a little content. She kept thinking that, over and over, thinking it as the women came in, the skinny horse-lady and the tired, impatient lady, kept thinking it as they put on her dress and arranged her hair and make up, kept thinking it as she was taken to stand in front of a set of doors between the twins, a bouquet in her clammy, shaking hands.
I will be content with life. I will The tune that had been stuck in her head that morning began to play. The doors opened suddenly, and at the end of the flower-strewn aisle, between the two young men, stood Snape. Luna felt her spirit crumple, but she forced it to get its act together, and she walked down the aisle, content with her life.
Snape looked at the girl. She was young, so young. She looked a little tired under the make up, but he knew he looked worse. Even the Hangover Potion hadn't helped much. He had smoothed his hair, which had looked worse the Potter's after sleeping in a puddle of water, and put on his best set of black robes, but he felt beaten. It had not been a good idea to get drunk. He wasn't as young as he once was and couldn't take a whole bottle as well as he used to.
Draco watched from the last row of seats, dressed in a set of dark grey robes, trying to look cool and collected as he sobbed and screamed inside. He had seen Luna's look of downtroddenness, then of resignation. The ceremony was simple, Voldemort conducting the service. It did not take over twenty minutes, and each of the girls said 'I do' robotically. Draco guessed that Voldemort had cast the Imperius curse on them for a moment's time. Poor Luna. Poor, poor Luna.
Three wedding certificates were signed after the service and then a reception. It was a brunch like any other but for a bit more food. Draco barely tasted it. He watched Luna simply stare dazedly at her plate, not taking a bite. Snape was pale with a purplish shading under his eyes. Draco guessed he had had a late night. He didn't blame him. When the reception was over, most of the Death Eaters went to their own rooms or homes. Draco left, glancing one last time at Luna as he passed through the doors.
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A/N: I couldn't bring myself to smush the wedding night in the tail-end of the chapter. It would not do it justice. I am tired. I just wrote two chapters in one day. It is 12:30, and I am sitting in my pyjamas with Remus the WereTeddy Bear, wearing glasses, which I never wear, but I couldn't sleep so I got up and put on my glasses rather than put on my contacts again. Just a glimpse into the life of Pearl. ; D I assumed, in the robe fitting bit, that the Patils were Indian. I honestly have no idea, but I know some Patils, and they are Indian. Like I said, it was an assumption. Don't neglect the purple button down there. It brings me great pleasure. :giggles in anticipation: Ok, now I'm just getting silly. Somebody shoot me. Sorry for the hortness. Chap. $ is coming soon!