Shotgun Wedding and a Stain On My Shirt

[Lilian Petrokov]

The happiest day of a woman's life was supposed to be the day of her wedding. The day all eyes were on her and whispers could be heard all through the chapel telling stories of how beautiful the bride was and how handsome and in love the groom must be. But Lilian's wedding day had been anything but this description of clichéd and sickly-sweet purity. But none of Lilian's life had been that way, and her wedding day had been no exception. She and Gavriil had arrived at the registry office with an elderly couple they had found outside to be witnesses, it had all been over within ten minutes, and the happy couple had walked out hand-in-hand to a cheap cassette recording of 'here comes the bride'. It had been a very muggle affair, the couple both still oblivious to one another's blood purity, or lack thereof. It had only taken them a few minutes to stumble along to the seedy motel they had booked, then they had been drunk on happiness, not the cask wine the bride had nestled within her cheap meringue dress. Gavriil had wanted every piece of their 'special day' to be kept secret, and it had. With luck on their side his family would never find out.

That was the other thing, the bride wasn't usually pregnant on her wedding day, but Lilian had assumed that the quick fix registry office was used to couples in their situation. That wasn't to say that it was the only reason a ring had been put on her finger though, they were deeply in love, and now they had a piece of paper signed by the court to prove it to the world. And despite the barely noticeable bump underneath Lilian's belly button, the pair had consummated their marriage on the questionable sheets on the squeaky motel bed. It didn't take long for the hours to tick on into early morning, the lovers bodies curled into each other, barely noticing the fact that the heating in their room had broken long ago. As Lilian rolled over her black locks spread across the pillow and her fingers stroked the gold band on her ring finger, causing a smirk to appear upon her lips. But as usual the sickening feeling in her stomach did not take long to return and the young woman rushed to the bathroom, her knees wrapped around the toilet bowl and her hands holding back those same black locks.

As Lilian bent over the toilet bowl a flickering noise could be heard above her and she looked up, still crouched on the floor, she called out to her husband who she hoped would awake from his love struck slumber. "Gavriil!" she called, her voice slightly hoarse. "The lights," she stammered, motioning above her to the flickering bulb, knowing all too well that her sleeping partner couldn't see what her arms were doing, lights or no lights. She rolled her hazel orbs, this was so typical of him, she hoped she wasn't going to have to try and wake him because she knew it would be near to impossible. Another flicker, then a pop, and Lilian Petrokov was crouched in the pitch darkness, her hands across her small bump as if to protect it from the horrible environment she was kneeling in.

"Gavriil!" she spoke again, flushing the toilet and feeling her way to the door frame. The moon was still out, it was too early for the natural light to guide her, so she pulled herself up against the frame and felt for the light switch, her pointed finger flicking it on, off, on, off, then on again, but still nothing so she waited for her husband to appear before her.​

 

[Gavriil Petrokov]

Despite the horrendous quality of the motel bed, Gavriil awoke smiling. He was the husband of the most wonderful woman he'd ever met, and here he was waking up to her calling his name. Still, there was something in her voice...a note of alarm...Gavriil's reflexes jolted him awake. "Lilian? What's wrong darling?" Gavriil was slowly acclimatising to speaking in English. You couldn't tell from his fluency hat the man's first language was Russian.

Crouched over a filthy toilet bowl was not exactly where most grooms could expect to find a bride on the morning after the wedding, but Gavriil didn't care.Even in such an uncompromising position, Lilian was beautiful. She glanced pointedly upwards.

"Ah, the lights..." To be honest, Gavriil hadn't really registered the darkness. With the faded grey curtains, it wasn't really that dark. But if his love wanted light, she could have light. "Okay, wait a moment while I get my.." Gavriil strolled up to the rickety bedside table, where he usually left his wand. It wasn't there. He swore in Russian.

"Er, Lilian, can you cast the spell please?" Gavriil paused, embarrassed. Was it with him at the wedding? Perhaps not. "I think I left my wand at home." In the couple's rush to escape the Petrokov Manor and a Petrokov weddng, it was entirely possible he'd left it behind.

 

[Lilian Petrokov]

Finally it seemed her husband had awoken from his sleeping beauty like slumber and answered her pitiful cries for help. Luckily he had grown accustomed to speaking to Lilian in English, as she only knew a few very simple phrases in Russian and found it far too difficult to follow along when he spoke in his mother tongue. The couple were warming up to spending all their time with one another and the young woman never would have guessed that English was not Gavriil's first language, another thing that his family would be none too pleased with. But the primary reason that the Petrokovs would not welcome Lilian into the family was the child nestled deep within the small swell of her belly, the very reason for the sick feeling that was conjured within her each morning as she woke up. But the reason her baby would not be welcomed into the family were ones that it's mother could not understand just yet, those reasons mainly being that her pureblooded husband had unknowingly mixed his blood in with that of a filthy muggle.

A solemn nod came from Lilian as Gavriil acknowledged the lights. You only get what you pay for, she thought to herself, it had been the only vacancy the couple could find at such short notice, and now they were both wishing they had thought to book ahead. The dark haired woman wiped her mouth gently on her husband's shirt, that she had taken to wearing over only her underwear, leaving a light stain upon it that she would have to apologize for later. Lilian followed her husband's instructions and waited, though she doubted that he would be able to produce a torch, they had packed extremely lightly, in fact they had packed almost nothing at all save the cask of cheap white wine, some cash and a change of socks.

Rolling her eyes, Lilian acknowledged one of the few Russian words she did know, and not a nice one at that. It looked as though they were going to have to remain in the dark, because Lilian didn't fancy going down to speak with the owner of the motel, whose seedy smile had followed her figure up the stairs to their room until she had rudely but fairly slammed the door on his nose. But the next words that tumbled from Gavriil's mouth were ones that the newly wed had not expected at all. Her perfectly shaped eyebrows raised into a prominent curve on her porcelain skin. Perhaps the morning sickness had her imagining things, she had heard terrible stories from her mother when she had been pregnant with her little sister, so it was entirely possible that this pregnancy was making her crazy. Or perhaps she didn't know this man at all, an equally likely hypothesis, as they had only known each other a few months and were already wed, she hoped she wasn't going to have to think of her marriage as a mistake, but what on earth did her husband mean 'wand' he wasn't one of those was he?

"Please tell me you're not one of those guys who sits at home playing dungeons and dragons and casting 'spells' with a little cape costume." she said warily, yet with a hint of sarcasm. She certainly hoped this wasn't the case because she had never been able to grasp the rules of the game and she knew she didn't look too good in a cape, the last Halloween party she had attended had proved that. Sitting down on the edge of the motel bed, Lilian soothed her stomach, rubbing it lightly with her palm. Perhaps there was something more to the night that her wine had floated into her palm than plain drunkenness on her part?​

 

[Gavriil Petrokov]

Gavriil laughed nervously in response to his love's ridiculous question, hoping against hope that she was only joking.
"No, of course not," he replied softly. "I'm just an ordinary, sane wizard. I went to Hogwarts, if it helps."

But Lilian's beautiful face showed only cynical confision. Gavriil crossed the room in a few paces to stand beside her, and placed a cool hand on her deliciously warm arm. How was he to know that this morning would change his life forever. Gavriil was young and inexperienced, and in love.It had never even occurred to him that Lilian might not be a witch. His pureblood upbringing had been such that he'd always viewed Muggles as less than real people, little better than animals. Lilian, on the other hand, was the most wonderful person he knew.

Gavriil was growing worried now. His new wife had only laughed at his previous statement, but not as if it were the joke he had intended. As if it was something silly, that perhaps he was slightly deluded. The Russian's mind flashed back to the night they had met, that blissful, laughing night when everything had changed. Lilian had been bemused when he'd summoned that wine, but she'd been drunk. Alcohol explained everything. Their whirlwind romance, their shotgun wedding, their passionate love. It had never worried Gavriil that he'd never seen Lilian with a wand. It was sensible to keep them discrete so as not to worry the Muggles, anyway.

"Lilian," he said finally, not ready to panic yet, "tell me you're not a Muggle. Tell me truthfully that you know about magic." It wouldn't matter, even, if you were a squib. I wouldn't mind that. But please say that you've had a magical upbringing. Please give my family no reason to kill you.