The Wedding of Monsieur Dolohov and Mademoiselle Lestrange

Malfoy Manor
Friday 31 July 1998

Adhara adjusted the tiara atop her head once more. She gazed into the mirror for what seemed like an eternity. She looked as if she was dressed for a funeral. Her wedding gown was black with an empire waist. It was strapless and showed enough flesh of her bosom to be entitled tasteful. The soft layered skirts were made out of silk and tulle. They reached the floor like dark clouds. The beaded waist shimmered in the lights of the room and created an intricate design around the bodice. Adhara glanced at herself in the mirror again. Her heavy-lidded eyes were smudged in black kohl; her lips coloured red.

"You look beautiful," a voice said from the doorway.

Instead of looking into the mirror, Adhara turned to face her aunt who leaned against the doorway. Narcissa looked startled. She was a scared doe amidst all of this. Her hands were shaking and she was biting her lower lip, similar to how Hermione did when she was nervous or stressed. Adhara gulped and looked away shyly. Narcissa moved closer very fast and clasped the palms of her hands around Adhara's cheeks.

"Listen, sweetheart, I know this isn't how it should be. But you must do this," Narcissa nearly broke down crying.

Adhara gulped yet again and gave a quick nod. "I just… what if after a while, he doesn't want me? What if I'm not worthy enough to be his wife?"

Narcissa looked relatively shocked at this statement. Her niece's words shattered within her. She remembered uttering those same words to her mother about Lucius, when it had come time to marry. Her mother had eloquently mentioned that she would be seen and not heard and to deal with it. But as time went on, Lucius had become a caring husband. Even though is judgment was flawed and down-right awful. She just hoped that Antonin Dolohov would treat her niece as nicely as possible.

Adhara had been spending a reasonable amount of time around her husband-to-be. Although her father and uncles were close to him, she knew nearly nothing about him. However, Adhara grew to …like Antonin. More than what she thought she would. He was highly intelligent, a Pureblood and could provide for her. Wasn't that what she wanted? What she should want? Adhara licked her lips anxiously.

"What I mean is …after the wedding, Antonin and I will have to…" she trailed off.

Narcissa's eyes widened even more. "Oh Adhara," she then threw her arms around her niece and held her tightly. Adhara was nearing her twenty-fifth birthday but the prospect of losing her virginity was nerve-wracking. Narcissa wished Bellatrix would talk to Adhara – offer some words of comfort. Yet she knew her sister wouldn't. "You'll do fine. It will be fine." With that, Narcissa smoothed some of the wrinkles in Adhara's dress. "When you sing for him, enchant him Adhara."

With that last bit of advice, Narcissa turned and led Adhara out of the small room. They went through the long corridors of the Malfoy Manor at a faster pace than what Adhara was use to walking. Perhaps Aunt Narcissa was as anxious as she was. Narcissa took her to the dining hall of the Malfoy Manor. When she entered her breath got caught in her throat. She momentarily forgot how to breathe. It was surprising how the hall looked so different from its usual appearance.

The usual stone ceiling was enchanted to twinkle the stars of the heavens. The sky was dark and smelled of fresh air. A soft sound came from a piano in the corner. Adhara turned to look at the instrument, thinking that her brother Arcturus would be sitting there but alas the glossy, black piano was enchanted. Adhara turned her head back to the sight in front of her. Narcissa had walked off, while Adhara had adjusted to the room. She could now see her aunt sitting at the long table in front of her. Her uncle stood behind Narcissa, pushing in the chair and then sitting in the chair next to hers.

In fact there were two long tables – one facing towards her and the other on the left side of the room. They created an L-shape, Adhara had noticed. Dark blue candles floated a few centimetres off the tables. Plates, goblets and silverware were positioned on the tables. Some of the Death Eaters that had come for the ceremony mingled at the tables, near the fireplace across the room, or even in the spaces between. Like in front of her for instance. She noticed Travers talking to Amycus Carrow a few steps away from her. They both turned and nodded towards her before continuing with their conversation. Yet she still felt the crawling sensation on her skin, as she realized they had quite possibly gazed at her breasts.

At the table ahead of her sat her husband-to-be. Antonin Dolohov looked tired; his face was stubbly, his cheeks gaunt, but his eyes were lit up and very aware of what was going on. He clearly did not want to be here and she didn't blame him. He had voiced to her that he would have rather had a quiet, small ceremony. Instead the Dark Lord wished that their marriage be well-known throughout the Death Eater ranks. It was obvious that the Dark Lord wanted all his Death Eaters to understand that good things came to those who listened. Dolohov had the most kills during the last battle of the war. And for that, the Dark Lord had betrothed Bellatrix Lestrange's eldest daughter to Antonin Dolohov. The betrothal was created months before the end of the war – to insure that the Dark Lord got an heir out of Antonin Dolohov's and Adhara Lestrange's union. She didn't know which one was happier: the Dark Lord or her mother.

Her eyes made contact with his gaze; Antonin had momentarily looked away from his conversation with her father. His lips curved up at the sight of her, his dark blue eyes dragging down her form. Adhara smiled back, tentatively. He then turned back to look at her father. Antonin laughed at something Rodolphus said. Adhara's gaze left his and she looked at the table and those who were already seated. On the other side of Narcissa sat Hermione, Adhara's baby sister. But baby she was far from. She was eighteen and intelligent – although to their mother, she was the embarrassment.

She had failed to betray Harry Potter. Although Hermione was sorted into Gryffindor and had made friends with Harry Potter and his crew while their parents were in Azkaban, it was known that she had to betray Harry and deliver him to the Dark Lord. She had rebelled, deeming it an atrocity. Uncle Lucius had kept her under house arrest after that; pulling her completely out of school during her fifth year. Narcissa and Adhara had ended up homeschooling her.

And then Bellatrix was back. She was furious. She was even more irritated that her youngest child would not follow through with the orders that had been given to her. Bellatrix then pushed for Narcissa to send her son to kill Dumbledore. The Dark Lord and Lucius were delighted by this. In the end, they had sent Hermione and Draco back to school to dismantle everything from the inside. It worked – too well. The war broke out and the Wizarding world was in an upheaval. But on May 2nd of 1998, the Order had failed. Supposedly the Dumbledore and Potter supporters still were alive, but their numbers were less than one hundred. Potter had been captured and was currently held in the confinements of the Riddle Manor. No one but the Dark Lord was allowed in there.

Bellatrix ended up forgiving Hermione for her "momentary fit of madness" as she called it. But there was still a strain in their mother-daughter relationship that Adhara had to mediate. One was Hermione's retaliation about being called by her first name. She wouldn't answer to it. So, since a little girl, Hermione was known as Hermione.

Adhara sighed and gave her sister a little smile. Hermione wore a long white gown that she clearly wasn't supposed to be wearing. Everyone else was dressed in royal purple, forest green, and black. She wore the exact opposite. Adhara had to admit, it was a beautiful dress – something she wished she had worn to her wedding. Weren't brides supposed to wear white? Apparently not for ones who studied the Dark Arts. Yet Hermione looked beautiful. The gown was of Grecian form with white and gold sequins around the waist and shoulder strap.

Adhara walked slowly to the table to sit, but not before planting a soft kiss on the curly crown of Hermione's head. She then continued over to take her seat next to Antonin. The witch felt his left hand move over to clasp itself on Adhara's right thigh. He squeezed.

"Are you well?" Antonin asked, as he turned towards her.

Adhara met his gaze and moved in closer to talk to him. "As well as I can be."

He nodded knowingly. "He should be here soon. Do you want to stay for the festives?"

She knew what he meant. The Dark Lord would soon start the ceremony. She would be married off and the festival of bloody darkness would occur. Adhara shuddered at how nonchalant the Dark Lord could be about this.

She took her left hand and pulled herself closer to him. "I would like to leave," she whispered in his ear.

Antonin pulled back and nodded. He rubbed her thigh once and then returned to his conversation with Rodolphus and Rabastan.

Adhara could still feel the palm of his hand on her skirts and for some odd reason it soothed her. Perhaps she was getting accustomed to this relationship. Adhara turned her attention to the door of the dining room. More people filtered in to talk with their fellow Death Eaters or to take seats. She saw her mother amble in and nearly skip to take a seat in between her father and uncle Rabastan. She tossed a smile down Adhara's way.

Adhara loved her mother. The woman's crazy dark hair; her brown eyes; and twistedly, deranged smile. All those years in Azkaban had taken their toll on Bellatrix, but Adhara still appreciated her mother. She only wished Bellatrix felt the same. From a young age, Bellatrix had taught her that she had two choices: become a Death Eater or become a pawn. Apparently her mother had chosen for her. Adhara only hoped that her sister had a way out of this trauma. Hermione had only been two when their parents went to Azkaban, so she didn't really know them. But Adhara, who was eight at the time, and Arcturus, who had been ten, knew their parents very well. They knew exactly what they were capable of.

Another person walked in, almost drunken-like, but Adhara knew that walk anywhere. Antonin's younger brother, Pierre, seemed so much like Bellatrix: touched in the head. However he differed in almost every aspect. Pierre was silly. It was a shock, compared to the fact that his older brother was very serious. Yet Pierre was a brightness that Adhara welcomed openly.

She waved over at him and he rushed forward.

"Adhara!" He whispered loudly. Nearly everyone looked their way. Apparently he wasn't as quiet as he thought.

She gave him a reassuring smile. Pierre quickly fell to his knees on the other side of the table. "Arcturus is bringing the rings as we speak. Draco's with him," he gave a silly grin. He looked towards his brother who was staring daggers at him. However, Pierre did not seem the least bit phased by it. "Antonin, you're getting married!"

"Obviously," Antonin spoke darkly. Adhara placed her hand atop his, before giving him a look. Antonin softened before speaking to his brother again. "Come sit next to Rabastan," he nodded towards Adhara's uncle.

Pierre's face lit up some more. "Yes!" He stood up to move away but then stopped, seeming to have forgotten something. Then he moved back to Adhara and tapped his index finger against the tip of her nose twice.

"Must you be so cruel? He is your brother," Adhara said once Pierre had gone to take his seat.

Antonin chuckled, "If you knew only half the stunts he played when we were boys, you would not be so forgiving."

She shook her head and rolled her eyes. Witches and Wizards were taking their seats. At that moment, the Dark Lord walked into the dining hall. His black robes swayed around his naked feet. It was highly unusual. When Adhara and Arcturus attended the resurrection of the Dark Lord they had taken their parents spots. Arcturus thought that they should show their appreciation for the Dark Lord and their parents by being there. Adhara was not allowed to disagree in those moments. His resurrection was frightening – he was merely a naked fetus thrown in to a cauldron. The incantations were spoken and the ingredients added; and with that the snake-like man was formed.

In that fleeting moment, Adhara knew that the Order did not stand a chance against this Dark Wizard. She knew that her family did not stand a chance either.

His naked feet slapped silently against the dark wooden floor. Nagini, a snake who looked strikingly like a python but with venom that could kill, slithered close to him. Most of the Death Eaters looked unnerved by her. Adhara could not understand why. Was there a serious reason to cringe every time Nagini slithered into a meeting? As long as you stayed on the snake's good side all would be well. Adhara gave a tight nod to the snake. Nagini's eyes blinked knowingly at Adhara.

Nagini could understand that Adhara was nervous about what their Master was about to perform – as she should. Nagini could not be bothered by humans and their trivial marriages but if her Master willed it, so it shall be done. There was no doubt in Nagini's intelligent mind that there was a connection between her and the young witch.

Nagini slithered towards the fireplace and coiled around herself, watching the events about to take place. There was a low hiss that emanated from the Dark Lord's mouth. A low hiss was then repeated by Nagini but with different inflictions.

Adhara's brows furrowed. She had never heard the Dark Lord speak to Nagini. But she understood a few words; this shocked her.

"… get this … with," the Dark Lord said to the snake.

Adhara strained to hear what Nagini was saying, but it was said too fast. She felt a chill run down her spine. She didn't believe she could hear them talk.

Then the Dark Lord faced them all. "My loyal followers," he paused, looking at everyone. "It has been nearly a week since our last meeting." He chuckled briefly, "However this is not like any ordinary meeting we've had. Today, we are here to celebrate the union of Antonin and Adhara."

The Dark Lord gave a long pause to allow people to clap and whoop loudly. For Purebloods, they sure could be rowdy. Alas, the Dark Wizard clapped his hands for silence. He continued, "Antonin, Adhara, if you'd please," he gestured for the two of them to come up to the centre of the room. Quietly the two shuffled to leave the table and walked in front of the Dark Lord with purposeful strides.

Adhara felt everyone's gaze at the centre of the room and she grew morbidly frightened for an instance. One look at Nagini and she calmed. The snake nodded to her. Adhara fixed her gaze on the Dark Lord.

"The Marriage Vow, as you all know, is very sacred magic," the Dark Lord said. "It's similar to the Unbreakable and nearly impossible to banish. Your hands?" He gestured at Adhara's and Antonin's hands.

Antonin reached out with his left hand to grab Adhara's. His hand was warm and large in her dainty hand. The Dark Lord plucked his wand from within his robes. With his wand pointed at where their hands were connected he recited, "Antonin Dolohov, you are to marry Adhara Lestrange." A silvery coil of rope encircled their touching hands. It was hot, nearly burning. "Do you promise to protect her?"

"I will," Antonin said, looking at her straight in her eyes.

"Do you promise to wave wands with her?"

"I will."

"Do you promise to eat death with her?" The Dark Lord's slithering voice echoed in her ears.

This question startled everyone in the room. No marriage had ever mentioned that promise.

Yet this did not stop Antonin, "I will."

"And you, Adhara Lestrange, you are to marry Antonin Dolohov." Again the silvery coil burned her hand and wrist. "Do you promise to be loyal to him?"

"I will," Adhara looked at him sincerely.

"Do you promise to wave wands with him?"

"I will."

"Do you promise to eat death with him?"

This question made her look at the Dark Lord again. She wasn't a Death Eater. Of course, she did support the Dark Arts and his quest for immortality, but she didn't hold the Mark. Adhara locked eyes with her mother across the room. Her brown eyes were wide and she looked like she was salivating with anticipation. Adhara then looked at her soon-to-be-husband. His blue eyes blinked expectantly. His middle finger rubbed slow, soothing circles against her skin. She saw Nagini stare at her.

"I will."

Antonin gave a sigh of relief and pulled his hand back. But their hands were still tied with the silver cord.

"My Lord?" Antonin asked.

Adhara licked her lips, expecting to pull back as well.

"I have one more promise for the both of you," his lips twisted up in a hideous smile. "Do you both bind your children to me; to become Death Eaters; for your first born to take my place when I am ready?"

Adhara's eyes widened in horror; Antonin looked momentarily bemused by the question. Then realization poured over him. Adhara looked at Narcissa, who looked mortified. Lucius had pushed Draco and Hermione on a golden plate to the Dark Lord and they had to do their worst to Hogwarts. Narcissa would never wish that on anyone else; especially not Adhara. Narcissa's eyes grew misty at this prospect; she looked away. Adhara then turned to her husband again and gave him a tight nod.

At the same time they said, "I will."

Adhara swore she could hear Narcissa's dry sob.

The silver cord sunk into their hands and all was done.

"Draco, Arcturus," the Dark Lord called.

Draco came through the doorway of the dining hall. He rushed to the Dark Lord's side and handed him two boxes. Her youngest cousin was dressed in an impeccable black suit of the richest fabrics. "Thank you, Draco. You may take a seat near your father." Draco nodded and walked over to the table.

Arcturus started into the room, pushing a trolley full of objects and wrapped gifts. Yet the Dark Lord ignored this. Instead he opened the boxes and plucked the rings from within them. Two rings with silver wolf heads on them emerged from the Dark Lord's hand. "If I'm not mistaken, Lord Dolohov, the wolf is your sigil?"

"Yes, my Lord," Antonin nodded.

The Dark Lord nodded knowingly and magically slipped the smaller ring on Adhara's left ring finger and the larger one on Antonin's finger.

In a soft, low voice the Dark Lord spoke the next words. "Monsieur Dolohov and Mademosille Lestrange will consummate their marriage tonight," he said silkily.

Adhara flushed and looked towards the tables. Many of the older Death Eaters including her father and mother snickered. Adhara almost wanted to roll her eyes. Yet when her gaze fell upon Narcissa and Hermione, a pang hit her in her chest. The two looked hopelessly sad, as did Draco.

She noticed that she was still holding Antonin's hand but she didn't mind.

"Before I leave, I wanted to present two gifts of mine to your wife, Dolohov. Would that be allowed?"

"Yes, my Lord, we are both gracious," Antonin said.

"Arcturus," the Dark Lord called Adhara's brother forward. "Give Adhara the first one."

Adhara watches as her brother plucked a chest off of the trolley. He handed it to her, his gaze never leaving hers. "Here you are, sister."

She looked at the chest in her hands carefully. "Thank you, my Lord."

"Well, open it," the Dark Lord said in aggravation.

Adhara looked at him and nodded. She moved back over to the table she had been seated at but faced her relatives instead of sitting with them. With her elegant fingers, Adhara flipped the latch and opened the lid of the chest. She gasped. Within the box nestled in velvet lining, was a dark bronze egg. It was large – she would need two hands to hold it. Her left hand gripped her skirts in anticipation. Her right hand glossed over the surface of the egg.

"A dragon's egg," she whispered to herself.

"Ukrainian Ironbelly," the Dark Lord whispered in her ear. She didn't notice that he was standing directly behind her. She could see everyone at the table looking at her warily. "I'll trust that you know what to do with it when the time comes."

Adhara nodded, not quite understanding what he had just told her. She turned around to see the Dark Lord back near Antonin and Arcturus. Her brother was holding out a basket. The Dark Wizard took it and brought it to her. "Open it, I'll hold it."

She nodded, removing the lid and dropping it to the floor.

"Put your hand in," the Dark Lord ordered.

She wasn't in any position to disobey. She stuck her right arm into the deep basket. Something long slithered up her arm.

"A viper. It's the Lestrange sigil, correct?" He asked matter-of-factly. Every Lestrange in the room nodded. "She's a gift from Nagini." The Dark Lord kept talking but she ignored him. The horned-viper clasped itself around Adhara's wrist firmly. Its orange cat-like eyes gazed at her. The snake was pitch black. Adhara gulped.

Lord Voldemort was upon her once more, gazing at her with unnerving red eyes. "I know, Adhara. I know you can speak to them. I know you can understand them," the Dark Lord whispered into her mind. Instead of speaking out loud, she continued with their telepathic conversation.

"I don't understand. I thought it was mainly hereditary." Adhara looked back as the snake slithered up her arm and into her curly hair.

"It can be, but in your case it's not. I would not doubt that soon Aquila will pick up on the rhetoric. Seeing as the both of you are highly intelligent." His gaze went to Hermione, flickering back and forth between her sister and Draco.

"Please don't hurt them," she said with determination. She felt the viper flick its tongue out against her scalp.

The Dark Lord raised his non-existing eyebrows. "You dare speak to me out of turn, witch."

"It's simply a request, my Lord," Adhara said, curtseying low.

The wizard tilted her up to stand at attention. He tilted her head up further to look at him. "You don't fear me?" He questioned, his red eyes squinting.

"Should I?" She paused. "You are my Master, my Lord. You can do whatever you want to me, to us. But without followers, you are nothing." Adhara was breathing slightly heavy once she was finished.

She took a step back, bumping into the table behind her. The viper hissed. The Dark Lord's lips curved upwards.

Adhara's lips moved once more to say something. She froze, realizing that she wasn't having a telepathic conversation with the Dark Lord. Adhara looked at the Death Eaters seated at the other table. She turned around to look at her family and then to her brother and husband across the room. They all had the same expressions on: a blend of confusion, horror, and excitement. She hadn't been speaking English, or French for that matter. She had just had a conversation with the Dark Lord in Parseltongue.

Author's Notes: When talking to Nagini, Voldemort had said, "Let's get this over with."

Please review. I would love feedback.

-Rosie