Stereotype

Emmeline Vance has always hated stereotypes. She's never fit them--never, not in school, not in Sirius's arms, and certainly not now. And she's just the slightest bit resentful for it.

She's sitting in the park. It's a stereotypical pretty day, the kind of day that you find in fairy tales, when the sun is streaming down through the trees, and there's a bouncy theme song that plays in the back of your mind, and your prince pops up out of nowhere and asks you to marry him. That's the stereotype.

Emmeline thinks stereotypes should burn in hell. She doesn't fit them, therefore, they are not worthy of her notice.

But she's sitting in the park on a stereotypical pretty day and there are children playing on the slides and the swings and their laughter dances across the playground toward her. There's a young mother (Muggle, by the looks of her) sitting a bench away and she's rocking her baby and watching her daughter (Emmeline knows the little blonde girl in ribbons and curls is her daughter--she's a miniature of the Muggle woman with the baby) play on the swings.

Emmeline watches the other children and she hears their laughter and she wonders what would have happened if what did happen didn't.

What would have happened if she and Sirius had told Emmeline's parents to screw reputation and had gotten married, instead of betraying best friends and watching the people you love slip away slowly into the wind? She wonders if the stereotypical fairy tale ending would have happened, if they would have been happily married (unlikely; they were rarely happy as lovers living together) and had 3.4 children (also unlikely, as Emmeline would have been a terrible mother. Not to mention, Sirius would have probably killed the thing playing with it).

She's 95 percent sure that their children would have been attractive--the little girls would have been blonde like their mother and the little boys would have been little Siriuses. (On second thought, Emmeline's glad that she and Sirius didn't have children--the thought of a small Sirius (or three) running around terrifies her.)

But that's the stereotype.

Emmeline wonders--well, fantasizes, actually--what would have happened if she and Sirius had fit the stereotype.

And, for a moment, Emmeline lets herself fall into a daydream. She wanders through a life that was so close she could taste it (but it was snatched away by reality). She can picture their wedding (it's not even remotely fancy, Emmeline doesn't like a lot of pomp and circumstance). She and Sirius stand at the altar and her dress is cream with roses in her curls and a bewildered look in her eyes.

And then their house (it's small, but clean), a plain saltbox with white shingles and four square windows with curtains blowing in the wind. The door is green and there's a wraparound porch that's adorned with two rocking chairs and pots of flowers. Their yard is protected by a white picket fence. There are children then, not 3.4, but two, a small boy and smaller girl. The boy has a shock of black hair that falls into his steel grey eyes. The little girl is cherubic, with a mass of golden curls that tumble from her head in disarray and eyes that particular shade of green blue that Sirius likes so much.

Emmeline knows it doesn't stop there--the children go to Hogwarts and come home again (the boy would have been friends with Harry, of course) and Sirius and Emmeline grow old together. And they celebrate anniversaries and years gone by together and it's stereotypical, but the dream Emmeline (and the real Emmeline) knows that it's how it's all supposed to be.

And then, in a moment, the daydream is gone, shattered by the sound of a child's laughter that dances across the playground. Emmeline brushes a couple strands of golden hair behind her ear and watches as the little girl comes running across the playground to her mother--she's laughing, and Emmeline wonders what went wrong and where and what she could have done to fix it. Because as much as she hates stereotypes, she wants (more than anything) to fit that particular stereotype.

This side of the picket fence isn't nearly as beautiful as it's made out to be--she's single, free to do as she wants, but her life is an ugly blur of grey loneliness. Emmeline resents it.

She's sure her daughter would have been just as lovely as the little confection giggling before her mother, if not more so. Emmeline thinks maybe she and the Muggle woman would have talked about little girls and ribbons and bows and curls and days gone by too fast, but this side of the picket fence, there's no little Emmeline, no little Sirius (no big Sirius, either) and Emmeline is alone.

It's a stereotypical day in the park, a fairytale day, but Emmeline feels alone and cold. She doesn't fit the stereotype and this distances herself from every other person on the playground.

The children's laughter will continue to dance across towards her but Emmeline is sure that she'll never hear it again--she was robbed of the chance to have her own little picket fence.

Emmeline Vance has always hated stereotypes. She's never fit them--never, not in school, not in Sirius's arms, and certainly not now. And she's just the slightest bit resentful for it.