𝒐. in which scarlet bridget is the epitome of everything sirius black hates.
━━━ ❛ somewhere along the way, I realised it's always been you ❜ 'ˎ˗
book I of the fatal flaw series
sirius black 𝒙 fem!oc
marauders era
rosyclarissa, 20...
( song for the chapter: the night we met — lord huron )
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BRIDGET'S HOUSE october, 1981
𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗢𝗪𝗟𝗦 𝗪𝗢𝗨𝗟𝗗 𝗡𝗢𝗧 𝗦𝗧𝗢𝗣. 𝗝𝗔𝗠𝗘𝗦 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗦𝗜𝗥𝗜𝗨𝗦 has been exchanging hundreds of letters over the week, chattering about Merlin-knows-what. Sirius would have the goofiest grin on his face every time he would write to James, about the wedding and about the offer for best man.
Scarlet received a couple from James too who complained about having to walk down the aisle with the bride's bridesmaid Everest. Potter never quite got over their rivalry, still insisting that he fears she might attack him or something of that sort. Except... Potter would never admit that he grew fond of the huntress somewhere along the way.
For a second, it seemed everybody in their friend group had forgotten about the war. They were happy.
"Sirius, put a shirt on!" Scarlet groaned, watching him pace about and running his fingers through his already styled hair. He had an elegant attire on, a long grey overcoat and black trousers except he had no shirt on. "You can't go out looking like that!"
"I look fantastic!" Sirius whined, "Besides, changing shirts will be abnormally difficult when I'm trying on wedding suits." He emphasised, arching an eyebrow in Scarlet's direction.
Scarlet was still working around the house, boxes and bags of decorations and accessories laying down everywhere. The life she created in secret.
Out of everything, it was keeping Sirius Black a secret that sent her heart into poignant guilt.
Here is the thing.
Scarlet was one of the lucky ones, as many would presume. She was born in the lap of privilege, adorned with luxury and family heirlooms scattering her piece of mind.
A Bridget and a Malfoy, the best of two worlds. Hers was the best possible life. And she gave it all up for a little bit of control and independence. Perhaps she should not have been gambling with her life at the age of sixteen but there was nobody to tell her otherwise.
