I'm like a huge marauders stan....and they don't have a wiki. Soooo I'm posting my Mauraders era fanfic starters here instead.
Regulus Potter sat in the carriage, knees curled up to his chest in a green slip dress, his hair flowing down to the middle of his back. Except, no, he wasn't Regulus Potter; no, she was Columba Black. She was Columba Black and she was sitting in this carriage, hoping her mother wouldn't tell her to get out.
She sat there, hoping for a while. When her mother's voice cut through the silence, she cursed and began to move. She pressed her feet to the floor of the carriage. As soon as she stepped out, she would be rushed inside, into a dress that he knew he would hate, but she would pretend to be happy. For her brother's sake. Because her mother made her happy.
She was marrying a man she was told she knew. A Malfoy. He had met him, but he didn't know him. There was a difference there. She stepped down the steps of the carriage, light and delicate, just like she was taught all those years ago. Rewarded for her femininity while she watched her brother struggle to understand why he couldn't have it. Cursed more ways than one when she wanted to do something boys might want.
Out she stepped, and immediately she was swarmed by people. There were so many features, so many touches, so many voices, and then she was inside. Inside, and being fitted into a white gown embroidered with emeralds. Oh, how he hated it. It was pretty and sparkly and gave him so much attention. It was her wedding, she wanted attention.
Through the haze of things that happened her mother's voice was the loudest. So it was there she directed her attention. “You made a very stupid decision, running off with that Potter boy, Columba. Getting married to him was worse. It was almost difficult to sell you off to someone.” Walburga’s voice was taut and plummy.
September 1st, 1972, 9:03 am
“Lolo, come on!” Sirius whines as Columba triple-checks all of her bags. “I’m WORKING on it, Sirius! And it’s Columba. We’re going to be at school soon. We can’t have stupid nicknames.” Columba was wearing a dress, a long, green, strapless dress, covered in emeralds. It was itchy and felt too tight, but Mother had insisted. “It was what I wore when I boarded my train.” She bent over her 5th and last trunk, ensuring she had all the books she needed and half the books she wanted. Though he was baffled at them, Sirius had the rest in his trunks. “Why do you need muggle books? And what does a “Potioneer's Guide to Leekwart” even entail? The Infernal Desire Machines of Doctor Hoffman? I think that’s an adult book.” She latched it closed.
September 1st 1972, 10:31 am
Walburga Black had her hands clasped over Columba’s. “Bye, love. Owl me when you get back to your dorms. Okay?” Columba nodded, gave a nervous half smile, then stepped onto the train. It was loud and bustling, too many people, too many noises, too many smells. She puts her head in her hands, leaning against the train’s interior.
A hand brushes her shoulder, and she bristles. It’s removed. She looks up at a face, a small smile at its lips, brown hair on its head, brown irises. “Loud?” it asks. She nods. “I’ll take you to my carriage, it should be quieter.” The face’s hand grabs hers, and she’s being pulled through. People, baggage, animals, and paper brush past her as she’s dragged through, and then…Solace. And four pairs of eyes on her. Shit.
Which one should I work on first?
