9. FOREVER HOLD THEIR PEACE
The holiday in Cornwall with Remus and Sirius had passed much too quickly. They had spent the days at the beach or wandering along the coastline, flying a kite, having picnics and sunbathing. The evenings, they had mostly sat out on the porch of their rented cottage, sipping tea and reading or playing cards. By silent agreement, they had done their best to push everything else aside, pretending that the rest of the world didn't exist and operating in a state of blissful ignorance. It hadn't always worked, of course, but somehow Remus' wolfish growls when certain names were mentioned and Sirius' elaborate ideas for escape plans hadn't made her feel sad or helpless – on the contrary, they had served to remind her that she wasn't alone and that she finally had a family that cared for her.
Molly Weasley's attempts to soothe her nerves, on the other hand, had the opposite effect. The motherly witch had bustled into the ground floor classroom that been assigned to Holly as her dressing room some ten minutes ago and she hadn't stopped talking since, fussing with Holly's dress and hair and showering her with well-meaning words.
"You look wonderful, dear, such a beautiful dress. I would have suggested something with sleeves myself – you might get chilly in the evening – but still very elegant, very grown-up," she commented, adjusting the fall of the skirt yet again, and sniffed loudly. "Oh, I'm sorry, Holly, I don't mean to get all maudlin when you're being so brave… so very brave! To agree to marry that monster, the man who killed your parents! I still can't believe the headmaster would ask such a thing… such a horrible, horrible thing. But no, I shouldn't say that, not when he has so many lives to consider… I hope you won't hold it against him, Holly, he's such a great man and I know he cares deeply for you. And so does Ronald. But boys that age... well, they don't always think things through, do they? But he'll come around, you'll see, just give him a bit of time… Now, what should we do with your hair? No, no, we can't leave it like this. What were they thinking pinning it up like that?"
They, in this case, were the two hairdressers from Just Charming! that Narcissa had hired for the day and whom Molly had shooed away as soon as she had spotted them. Holly, admittedly, wasn't overly happy with the sleek updo they had attempted on her hair, and the fact that only seconds after they had declared her hair done, the first strands had started to escape from the elegant configuration didn't help the overall impression. But she still shied away when Molly tried to tug the numerous hairpins out of her hair, taking shelter behind a chair and sending Sirius a pleading look.
"I'm sure we can fix this," the Animagus said. "Though, we might need some professional help. Cissa, could you call back those hairdressers? And Molly, I don't see a bridal bouquet, could you look into that? Great, thanks."
He didn't give either woman a chance to object, almost physically pushing them from the room and firmly closing and locking the door behind them. Holly fell into the chair with an exhausted huff, not caring that Molly had warned her about sitting down as it might wrinkle her dress.
"Thanks," she murmured, smiling wanly at Hermione, who gave her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder and then started to pick the hairpins out of her black curls with much gentler fingers. "I know she means well, but…"
"I know, pup," Sirius assured her. "And it's actually good that we have a moment because there's something I wanted to give you."
"But you already gave me this," Holly pointed out, raising her arm with the charm bracelet that Sirius and Remus had given her for her birthday. On the delicate platinum chain, several finely crafted charms represented her family – there was a silvery full moon for Remus, a paw print for Sirius, a lily for her mother, a tiny stag for her father and even a small book for Hermione.
"Something new," Sirius agreed, reaching into his black dress robes. "But you still need something old, something borrowed, something blue. Here." He held out a small jewellery box, explaining as she opened it hesitantly, "Lily borrowed these from her mum, your grandmother Marigold, to wear on her wedding day. They had been a gift from your grandfather for their silver wedding anniversary, I think. Remus found them in your vault when he went to Gringotts."
"They're beautiful," Holly whispered, carefully lifting one of the small teardrop earrings out of the box. "Thank you, but I'm not sure I want to wear them, not for this… sham."
Hermione reached for her hand, giving it a tight squeeze. "I think you should, Holly. There's so much wrong about this; you shouldn't deny yourself something that makes you feel even a little bit better."
"I'm just not sure my parents would approve," Holly mumbled.
"They wouldn't," Sirius replied bluntly and without hesitation, pulling her into his strong embrace. "Just as Remus and I don't approve, pup. They would have been furious – and let me tell you, a furious Lily was a sight to see, from a safe distance of course. But not at you, never at you, Holly. They would have tried everything imaginable and unimaginable to protect you from this… But if that failed, they would have wanted to be here to support you one hundred percent of the way. I know I'm a poor substitute, but I will do my best to honour their legacy."
"You're not! Don't say that!" Holly interrupted him, burying her face against his hard chest. "Okay. Okay, I'll wear them. And Mirabelle and Anabelle can try to wrangle my hair again. But then I just want to get this day over with."
"I'll run interference with Molly," Hermione offered, brushing down her sky-blue bridesmaid dress and giving herself one last critical look in the mirror. "Maybe we can have another talk with Ron."
"What's his problem anyway?" Holly demanded, more than a little hurt and more than a little angry at their friend's continued absence.
"I think he's feeling overlooked again because you didn't talk to us before signing the contract," Hermione answered, rolling her eyes with a huff. "But honestly, he's making even less sense than usual."
"Great, just great," Holly muttered. "You can tell him… Tell him whatever you like, Mione. But if he can't even swallow his wounded pride, or whatever, and support me for one day, I'm honestly not sure if he should still call himself my friend."
"Holly…" Hermione started, but then sighed when she saw her stubborn expression. "I'll tell him."
She slipped out of the room and a moment later, Narcissa, followed by the two hairstylists, strode back into the room and the tugging on her clothes and on her hair and on her person started anew. Sirius tried to distract her with stories about all the pranks the Marauders pulled while they were at Hogwarts and offered suggestions on how some of them might be applicable to a group of dour Death Eaters, while Narcissa kept up easy, light chatter about the fine weather and the menu and the invited guests and the floral arrangements and a million other things that Holly couldn't care less about. She was just glad that none of the people in the room expected any input from her.
Until suddenly the three witches declared themselves satisfied with the braided half-updo her hair had been woven into and Narcissa, with a glance at her slim wrist watch, declared them to be right on schedule. Mirabelle fitted the veil into her hair and Narcissa spoke a quick Ironing Charm to de-wrinkle her dress and then Sirius and she were alone.
"Are you sure about this, pup?" he asked, his hands warm and sure on her elbows. "We can still run… I know at least six different routes to get us out of Hogwarts undetected."
"No," Holly said, shaking her head. "I'm doing this."
"Okay," Sirius replied, for once sounding as serious as his name, and offered her his arm. "Let's get this over with and… I love you, I'm proud of you and I'm honoured to call you my daughter."
"I love you, too," Holly said, took a deep breath and nodded. "Let's go."
It really was a mockingly beautiful day, Holly found, when they stepped through the great double doors into the brightness of a cloudlessly sunny day, birds chirping, the branches of the Whomping Willow swishing lazily through the air and the Giant Squid treading its tentacles through the glittering surface of the lake to bask in the sunlight. The serenity of the scene was somewhat mitigated by the crowd of reporters swarming the short stretch of open space between the castle and the wedding pavilion that had been erected equal ways between the castle, the Great Lake and the Forbidden Forest. As soon as they came into view, cameras started flashing and the gaggle of journalists started shouting their questions, pressing forward against a magical safety perimeter that had been cast along the pathway.
Holly could see Sirius' yaw clench as he resolutely marched them forward, his expression turning even more stormy and forbidding. She was almost a little grateful for the veil that hid her own face because she was feeling such a cesspool of emotions that she couldn't even tell which ones might be showing on her face and certainly didn't relish reading a play-by-play account of her presumptive mental state the next time she opened a newspaper.
Sirius lightly squeezed her hand in warning before they breached the invisible barrier to the pavilion, the deafening clamours for attention from the reporters suddenly replaced by soft, tinkling music, the sudden hush in conversation and the slight rustle as all those lucky enough to score an invitation rose to their feet and turned towards them. Holly resisted the urge to take an instinctive step back, sucking in a breath and still feeling like she was being suffocated.
Sirius stepped in front of her, making a show of adjusting her veil. "Forward or backward?" he whispered.
"Forward," Holly croaked out, giving a jerky nod and slipping her hand back into the crook of Sirius' arm.
The music changed, became more purposeful in a rather creative interpretation of the wedding march, and they were moving again. Her eyes kept flitting over the assembled guests, over the Ministry employees and Order members, the Weasley clan and teachers to her right, the Death Eaters and old pureblood families to her left, all to avoid looking at what or rather who awaited her at the end of the aisle. She saw Ron, who raised his hand in an awkward greeting and twisted his mouth into a painful looking smile, which all things considered was perhaps a little paltry but more than she had expected at this point.
In the first row, the Lestranges, Narcissa, Professor McGonagall, the headmaster and the Minister of Magic with his wife had taken their places and next to them she saw the small group of people she considered her family, Remus, Dudley and Simon. They were all smiling at her, though with sympathy rather than with true joy, and she felt a powerful wave of love and encouragement from the empath, which at last gave her the strength to turn her gaze towards the raised dais they were heading towards.
In the middle of the dais, framing the small group of people already stood there, was an arch made of ivy and white roses, small twigs of silvery leaves woven through the construct and several garlands of magical fairy lights radiating out from the centre of it, creating a canopy of small glimmering lights above the congregation of witches and wizards.
Hermione looked beautiful in her light-blue dress with its fluttery sleeves, her hair sleek and almost golden in the bright light, her warm brown eyes solemn and alert. On the other side, Lucius stood in matching dress robes, his silvery blond hair brushed to perfect straightness and every line of his body and face proclaiming his superiority. There was also a diminutive woman in deep charcoal robes, her hair almost the same shade, and her face so wrinkled that it reminded Holly of the cracked bark of a tree, who would presumably officiate the wedding. Narcissa had mentioned that there had been some discussions about that point since both Fudge and Dumbledore had wanted to perform the wedding and Voldemort had very strictly objected to that.
Voldemort. Tom. She still couldn't bring herself to look directly at him, instead noting the elegant cut of his dress robes, the sharp crease of his black suit trousers, the mother-of-pearl buttons of his white shirt and the black bowtie. His long-fingered hands, clasped lightly in front of his body.
The officiant cleared her throat, her enunciation unexpectantly crisp as she began the ceremony. "Friends, we have gathered here today so that you may all bear witness to the joining of Tom Marvolo Riddle, Head of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Gaunt and Heir of Slytherin, and Holly Jay Potter, daughter of Lily Evans Potter and James Potter and Heiress to the Noble and Ancient House of Potter. Who gives this woman to be wedded to this man?"
Besides her, Sirius took a deep breath, his spine ramrod straight as he answered. "I, Sirius Orion Black, Head of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, give my goddaughter and adopted daughter Holly to be wedded to this man."
He turned to her, briefly squeezing her shaking hands before carefully lifting the veil and pressing a kiss to her forehead. "And may your parents forgive me, pup."
He let her hold onto his fingers for a moment longer before she reluctantly released him from her grasp and he took a step to the side, to take his place next to Hermione.
"Marriage is a solemn oath, a most sacred obligation," the officiant continued and Holly found it much easier to focus on her than on Tom's too large presence next to her. "It is not to be entered into lightly or thoughtlessly, but with care and discretion, with reverence and respect for the unbreakable bond it creates. And today we are to celebrate not only the union between these two people, but the alliance between two warring parties, the reconciliation of Light and Dark, the start of a new era of peace and prosperity, compromise and cooperation, understanding and forgiveness. So if any person here can show just cause as to why they may not be lawfully wed, let them speak now or forever hold their peace."
She paused and someone sniffed loudly into the ensuing silence and just behind them, Bellatrix Lestrange erupted into a malicious cackle that cut off abruptly, presumably because of a well-aimed Silencing Charm. A warm hand closed around her cold fingers and she jerked instinctively, her eyes jolting up for the first time to meet the deep red gaze of her soon-to-be-husband. She swallowed convulsively, not sure whether there was a sob or hysterical laughter trapped in her throat. The ceremony continued, regardless.
"Please face each other and hold hands." The officiating witch cleared her throat, her wand describing a wide, glittery blue circle above their heads as Tom turned them to face each other and took both her hands into his.
"Do you come here freely and of your own accord to give yourself to be joined in marriage? If so, please answer 'We do'."
"We do," the Dark Lord repeated in a strong, even voice, Holly's answer softer and lagging slightly behind.
The magic from the witch's spell flared into a blinding white, the single strand of the spell feazing into a myriad of smaller bands that swirled around them, around the bridal pair and the witnesses for a few seconds before they faded.
"So witnessed and verified?" the old witch asked.
"So witnessed and verified," Hermione and Lucius echoed obediently.
"Tom and Holly, having heard that it is your intention to be married to each other, I now ask you to make your vows. Tom, please repeat after me:
"I, Tom Marvolo Riddle, take you, Holly Jay Potter, as my wife."
He squeezed her fingers lightly as he repeated after the officiant, his voice almost soft, though still loud enough to project into every corner of the pavilion. "To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, in war and in peace, to love and to cherish, till death do us part. This is my solemn vow."
She wanted to close her eyes, to finally wake up from this nightmare. There was a rushing in her ears, an edging of black around her vision, but she forced herself to repeat those same words, to make that same vow, and pretend it didn't taste like acid on her tongue.
She was almost certain she missed something after that because suddenly Tom was sliding a silver wedding band onto her finger and speaking again, "This ring is a symbol of my vows to you and the commitments we made today."
Hermione took a small step forward, pressing the matching ring into the clammy palm of her hand, and the officiant gave her the cue again, intoning the words she had to repeat as she awkwardly fumbled the silver band onto Tom's right ring finger.
"Tom and Holly, we have heard and borne witness to your promise to seal this peace with your union and to henceforth share your lives in marriage. In accordance with our laws and by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."
She had tried very hard not to think about this part and there was no time to think about it now as the Dark Lord pulled her closer, cupping one large hand around her face, and leaned down to place his lips against hers, chastely, but with enough pressure that her lips tingled slightly when he drew back.
He smirked at her and reached for her hand again, turning them to face the invited guests as the officiant declared, "Friends, it is now my honour to present to you the newly married couple, Tom Riddle and Holly Potter."
The assembled witches and wizards rose to their feet, some applauding politely while most raised their wands into the air and shot sparks in different colours up against the sky, reds and greens, blues and yellows, pinks and lilacs and everything in between, the glittering particles joining the ceiling of fairy lights above their heads. Dumbledore was beaming widely, his eyes twinkling madly behind his half-moon glasses. Fudge wiped his sweaty brow with a crumpled handkerchief before turning to accept the handshakes from his fellow ministers as if he had personally and single-handedly solved world hunger.
Tom leaned down slightly to whisper in her ear, "Breathe, Holly, you did very well."
She tried, if only because her vision was starting to grey, but in truth the air wasn't the problem. It was the warm hand closed firmly around hers, the tall, male body pressed against her side, the tangy scent of his aftershave in her nose, the powerful, oppressive feeling of his magic. She wanted out. But she couldn't. She didn't have that option.
The applause died down, eventually, her vision so blurry and unfocused that she couldn't make out any of the faces as Tom carefully placed her hand in the crook of his arm and led her back down the aisle, his steps smooth and unhurried, regal, as if he had just been crowned king of the Wizarding world and all the people there were his court.
He lightly patted her hand before they were to step through the privacy barrier again. "Time to face the vultures."
The crowd of journalists surged towards them, then immediately jostled back again when they recognized the Dark Lord, several unfinished questions hanging awkwardly in the air. Tom smirked. She could feel it in every line of his body, his smugness and enjoyment of the unease he still provoked. He continued to walk them slowly back towards the castle, the reporters trailing behind them like lost ducklings, and then turned them around on the front steps, his arm slipping around her waist and preventing her from making an escape.
He kept silent for another minute to give the reporters that had hung back to get a quote from one of the other guests a chance to catch up and for dramatic effect, she suspected. Then he cleared his throat, a charming smile flashing across his handsome face.
"My dear members of the press, please know that I have the greatest respect for your professional curiosity. But on this day – our wedding day – I'm sure I can count on your understanding and discretion when I ask you to respect our privacy." He smiled again, tracing small circles against her side with his fingers. "Any questions may be submitted by owl and we will be ready to release a statement in a couple of days. Until then, I do believe descriptions of my wife's beauty should be worth at least several paragraphs."
He turned his grin onto her, lifting her limp hand up to his lips to breathe a gallant kiss over her knuckles. "Shall we?"
An agitated, dissatisfied murmur went through the crowd and some of the braver reporters dared to pose some questions, though a few already failed at how to address the most feared Dark wizard properly. Holly wasn't so lucky.
"Are you happy, Holly?" Rita Skeeter had somehow pushed herself to the front of the throng, her voice more strident than anyone else's as she thrust her wand into Holly's face, her Quick-Quotes Quill and a sheaf of parchment floating eagerly behind her.
She didn't want to answer, but Tom had halted again as if he too was curious for the answer. As if that shouldn't have been self-evident.
"I'm…" Holly took a deep breath, clenching her free hand around the fine material of her dress. "Grateful. For the support of my friends and family. And for the promise of peace. And I hope that all of us will take this opportunity to leave the war behind."
"Very wise, my dear girl," Dumbledore exclaimed jovially, smoothing his beard as he ambled towards them. "And may I be the first to offer my congratulations to the newlyweds? You make for quite a beautiful couple – though of course appearances can be deceiving and the greatest evil often hides behind the prettiest façade, as Tom has demonstrated in the past to all of our horror."
"You misunderstood me if you thought that is what I meant by leaving the war behind, Headmaster," Holly snapped before she could stop herself, the furious pain shooting through her scar enough to startle her out of her stupor. She pulled free from Tom's arm, turning on her heel and striding towards the castle.
"On that note," she heard Tom say behind her, amusement in his voice. "I think we're done here – and there will of course be a receiving line for those guests who wish to offer us their sincere best wishes."
He caught up to her with a few quick strides of his long legs, reaching for her hand again. "That was perhaps a little unwise, but very amusing," he commented with a grin, pulling her to a stop.
"I didn't do it for you," she protested, tugging her hand free, her pale cheeks flushed with anger. "But Dumbledore can keep his grudges – I have plenty of my own."
"You hide them well," Tom remarked, studying her carefully.
"Would you rather I didn't? Oh, I'm sure that would lighten the mood," Holly spat, angrily scrubbing her fingers over her scar. "You killed my parents. You tried to kill me. That doesn't just get wiped clean because you decided to sign a piece of paper."
"We were at war."
"A war you started! And I'm so sick and tired of that being bandied about as a valid excuse," Holly snapped. "Maybe this contract is a good thing – at the very least, you'll have to come up with a new justification."
There was moment of awkward silence, but then to her surprise Tom shifted back slightly. "I can see why you would think so after everything you've been told. But I dare say there're two sides to every story."
Holly leaned back against the cold stone wall with a huff, crossing her arms over her chest and closing her eyes. "Can we not do this right now? I just want to get through this day."
"Of course. Take a few minutes, if you'd like. It'll be some time till everyone has made it past the press, anyway," Tom replied, easily leaning against the wall opposite, his legs crossed at the ankle.
"Aren't you worried what Dumbledore and Fudge will tell them?"
"Lucius can handle it," the Dark Lord replied confidently. "Besides, I'm sure any detail of the ceremony will be deemed much more newsworthy than Dumbledore's old talking points or Fudge's nonsensical ramblings. And as I said, you really do look beautiful today, Holly."
"Thanks," Holly mumbled, not quite as sarcastically as she had intended, and quickly changed the subject. "So what's the plan now?"
Tom smirked at her, but thankfully didn't comment on the slight blush she could feel on her cheeks. "There'll be a receiving line, as you might have heard, followed by a feast in our honour."
"In the Great Hall?" Holly asked.
"No, in the inner courtyard," Tom corrected, offering her his arm again when she pushed off from the wall. "Narcissa and I thought this would be more in line with your wishes."
"Oh," Holly said, hesitantly placing her hand in the crook of his arm. "Okay, thank you."
"You're welcome, my dear little wife," Tom answered with a victorious smirk that only grew wider at her moue of distaste.