Chapter 1: 12 Grimmauld Place

Walburga Black was surprisingly beautiful and unsurprisingly harsh. At least, that was my first impression once I had steadied myself after stumbling from the fireplace at 12 Grimmauld Place. Floo powder had always made me nauseous and I was having trouble stomaching the idea of spending any amount of time with the Black family. Walburga was sitting on the couch when I arrived and she gave me a shrewd once-over before pointing a lazy finger at my bags.

"Kreacher, take our guest's bags to the spare room." Her voice was shrill and grating.

"Hello." I said blandly. I held her gaze, but it wasn't easy. Her cruel eyes were full of mistrust. I guess I couldn't blame her. I was half-Veela which was a strike against any pureblood family. Add to that my father's disloyalty to the dark arts and my recent expulsion from Durmstrang Institute. I honestly had no idea why she had been so set on taking me in, which was a fraction of the reason why I trusted her so little. Pure blood descended from Dark Magic didn't dabble in goodwill and I the Blacks had no real connection to the Grindelwalds, so it couldn't be attributed to family ties. I guess my buddy Gellert Grindelwald was probably ultimately responsible. After all, his whole muggle enslavement gig must really excite people like Walburga.

After a few moments of exchanging hostile glares, Walburga spoke.

"I don't want any problems from you. You'll be starting at Hogwarts next week and given your track record, you should feel quite comfortable surrounding by mudbloods and blood traitors. I've been telling your father for years that you'd turn into a blood traitor yourself. We know how unpredictable Veela blood can be. But I won't have it here. You know where this family's loyalties lie and it would be wise to adjust your own." She paused and drummed her fingers on the couch, daring me to offer up any sort of opposition. I didn't take the bait. I nodded and she smirked.

"Dinner is in fifteen minutes. Kreacher, show Ms. Grindelwald to her room."

The room was inhospitable, as expected. The bed was hard and cobwebs climbed the walls and ceiling. I didn't see the Black family having many guests and I wasn't exactly welcome myself, but there was something soothing about the sparse, undisturbed feel of the room. There were two portraits in the room: an old sleeping woman with a wrinkled neck and an equally elderly man with sharp, greedy eyes. He fixed his gaze on me and grinned. I glared at him for a moment and turned to unpack my things. I got as far as opening my trunk before deciding it wasn't really worth the effort. I wasn't too interested in seeing what was in the drawers of the dark wooden armoire and I'd only be spending a week here. One week. Of course, then I had Hogwarts to suffer through. Even then, I only had to survive two years there and I was free. I was becoming slightly hopeful about Hogwarts, which I knew was a mistake. But after suffering through five years at Durmstrang, two more years at a school with a much kinder reputation didn't seem all that bad. Still, I had to be cautious. Being half-Veela didn't make it easy to slip under the radar and my last name certainly didn't help. That was another problem. Dumbledore had, after all, defeated my grandfather in a legendary battle, so there was that.

There was a light knock on my door, which was already mostly open. The door eased itself open and a boy with black hair stood in the doorframe, looking slightly uncomfortable. He was about my height (5'8) with dark grey, almost black eyes and a pale complexion. Like his mother, he had strong features, but they suited him better. His grey eyes shifted to me and he blushed briefly.

"I'm Regulus." he stammered. "Dinner's ready."

"Mia" I said and followed him, as he had already turned and was walking down the hallway.

Dinners at my house had never been a very cheerful affair. On the rare occasions my father did join me for dinner, conversation usually consisted of a few stiff exchanges. I guess my resemblance to my mother was too strong, because he could hardly bear to look at me. Anyways, dinner with the Black family actually managed to be more uncomfortable than dinner with my father. Orion, Walburga's husband, said nothing when Walburga offered a brief introduction at the table. I would say he seemed resigned, but he was too proud to be compared to an average harassed husband. He gave me a few odd, hungry looks, which I struggled to ignore. Sirius, Regulus's older brother, on the other hand, gave me one hard look and spent the rest of the meal with his eyes fixed on opposite wall. He was handsome, like his brother, and there was an underlying wildness he shared with his mother. He was sporting a bruise across the cheek and that, combined with the dark circles under his eyes, gave him a hunted look. Regulus, clearly feeling more comfortable, stared at me like I was a foreign species.

Walburga was the only one to speak during the meal and she took advantage of any silences with a lengthy, rambling sermon proclaiming her distaste for "filfthy mudbloods". Sirius's jaw seemed to become progressively tighter as Walburga's rant devolved into cruel threats against muggles. I was having a difficult time myself and I was hoping he would crack before I did. Thankfully, Walburga paused for a moment and Sirius chimed in.

"Mother, I don't think you've made your opinion of muggles quite clear. Could I hear that last bit one more time." Walburga fixed her dark gaze on Sirius and I heard a muffled, manic giggle. It took me a moment to realize I had made the sound and everyone's eyes were already fixed on me.

"I.. I choked on a bit of meat." I said as calmly as I could manage, only to realize meat wasn't even on the menu. Sirius disguised a chuckle with a cough and Walburga's eyes darted between us.

"Leave the table, before you both make me sick." she hissed. We complied in unison and I trailed behind Sirius as he ascended the staircase. His room was two doors past mine, but he didn't turn to face me when I slipped into the guest room.

I spent fifteen minutes leafing through the thick packet of information from Hogwarts that had been propped on the desk and then collapsed on the bed, staring at the ceiling and imagining what kind of fresh Hell Hogwarts would prove to be. My thoughts were interrupted by a tapping on the door and before I could answer, Sirius had slipped in with a swift motion. He jerked the window open and slumped in the seat beside it, pulling a cigarette from his jacket pocket.

"Want one?" he asked and I shook my head. I had pulled myself up and was sitting on the bed now, my legs crossed. Sirius scratched his jaw and lit the cigarette. He smoked out the window for a few minutes and then turned to face me, his hand dangling out the window.

"Welcome to Hell." he said, with a tight smile that didn't really reach his eyes.

"I didn't realize it'd be so frigid in Hell, I would have brought a jumper" I countered and he let out a hoarse chuckle.

"Yeah, good ol' Walburga likes to keep the house at the same temperature as her cold, dead heart." I would have laughed, but his voice had a tight, serious edge to it. We were quiet for a few more minutes.

"So, why'd you get kicked out of Durmstrang?" he asked.

"I set Karkaroff on fire." I replied shortly and I saw a glimpse of excitement flash across his face."Wicked" he smiled and I stared. His smile was warm and goofy and it transformed his features from severe to a boyish handsome. It was quickly replaced by a thoughtful, curious scrutiny of me and I looked away, embarrassed. I didn't get embarrassed, not often, but I also didn't find myself being looked at that way—a kind of soft re-calculation. He must have realized he was staring, because he squashed the butt of his cigarette rather suddenly against the sill and stood.

"See you, I guess." he said and made his way to the door. He hesitated for just a moment and was gone.