A/N: Essentially, what you recognize belongs to the goddess that is J.K. Rowling, and what you don't belongs to insignificant little me.
•~0~•
Just about the first thing Genevieve learned about being a full-fledged adult with a job was that it came with a fair bit of drama. Of course, she'd joined the Order just as soon as she possibly could and had spent a slightly awkward fortnight with her father, in which she has told him about her employment and he couldn't bring himself to talk about her mother, after the new revelation that she had been a Black, but none of it could have prepared her for sitting at Mrs. Weasley's table, clutching a large mug of tea, while Tonks silently cried and Mrs. Weasley patted her back comfortingly.
Genevieve had first come to Mrs. Weasley for advice — and to take up the offer of tea the woman had been extending all summer through Ginny's letters, which usually complained in great detail about Phlegm, or Fleur, to whom Bill had proposed. She'd been debating visiting Charlie since term had ended. After all, so much in her life had been uprooted and turned around, and letters — especially as they could be intercepted — simply couldn't express it all.
She had knocked on the door at about eleven, when she knew the others would be asleep, and Mrs. Weasley had nervously called through the door:
"Who's there? Declare yourself!"
"Er — it's Genevieve Snow, Mrs. Weasley. I was hoping to take you up on the offer for tea."
She opened the door, smiling widely, but looking exhausted all the same.
"Genevieve, dear! I was worried so, Professor Dumbledore is supposed to be bringing Harry come morning, and, well . . ."
"I understand, Mrs. Weasley," Genevieve replied, her eyes following Mrs. Weasley's to the family clock. All of the nine hands, which represented the family members, pointed to "mortal peril."
"Been like that since You-Know-Who came out into the open," Mrs. Weasley explained with a sigh. "Well, come in, Genevieve, and please, call me Molly."
"Er — thanks, Molly."
Genevieve had stepped inside the house and no sooner had she been given a mug than she had spilled all of her thoughts over the past two weeks, with Sirius, and her father, and Hogwarts, and her frustrations over not being able to tell any of this to Charlie, who was usually her greatest confidant. Mrs. Weasley had smiled knowingly.
"Ah yes, you have always shared a rather special relationship with Charlie, haven't you? Well, I happen to know that he is off tomorrow, so why not go see him in Romania? Here — " She scribbled an address on a bit of parchment and withdrew a photo of a house from her robes. "This is where he lives, I'll let him know you're coming to visit."
"Thanks, Molly," Genevieve smiled. "So, er — Arthur's gotten promoted, has he? Ginny told me just a few days ago."
"Yes," Mrs. Weasley beamed. "He's heading up the Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects. Got ten people reporting for him now!"
"That's wonderful! Tell him I said congrat — "
She was cut off by knocking. Mrs. Weasley rushed to the door.
"Who is it? Declare yourself!"
"It's Tonks, Molly," came a rather dejected voice.
Mrs. Weasley opened the door immediately and hugged the Auror, whose hair had changed to a mousy brown.
"Oh, do sit down! Tell me, what's he done this time?"
"Wotcher, Genevieve," Tonks mumbled, looking uncomfortable.
"I can leave, if you'd like," Genevieve offered, standing up.
"Oh, that's nonsense!" Mrs. Weasley declared. "She might be able to give an outside opinion about all this, you know!"
And so Genevieve had been filled in about Tonks and Lupin. She let out a deep breath.
"So he loves you too, but he's afraid . . . because he's a werewolf?" Genevieve said for confirmation. Tonks nodded miserably. "Well, that's idiotic, but I can see his reasoning. He thinks himself too . . ." she fished around for a word, "broken for you. You've got to make sure he knows he isn't."
"That's what I've been telling him!" Tonks let her hair drop onto her arms, which rested on the table, in defeat. "He won't listen."
"Lupin's smart, he'll come around," Genevieve said reassuringly. Mrs. Weasley shook her head.
"He's being ridiculous," she muttered. "You love him, that's what matters."
Somebody knocked at the door. Mrs. Weasley strode over to it.
"Who's there?" she demanded. "Declare yourself!"
"It is I, Dumbledore, bringing Harry."
Mrs. Weasley opened the door.
"Harry, dear! Gracious, Albus, you gave me a fright, you said not to expect you before morning!"
"We were lucky. Slughorn proved much more persuadable than I had expected. Harry's doing, of course. Ah, hello, Nymphadora, Genevieve!"
"Hello, Professor," Tonks mustered a smile. Genevieve waved at them. "Wotcher, Harry."
"Hi, Tonks, Genevieve."
"I'd better be off," Tonks stood to go. "Thanks for the tea and sympathy, Molly. You as well, Gen."
"Please don't leave on my account," Dumbledore said. "I cannot stay, I have urgent matters to discuss with Rufus Scrimgeour."
Genevieve nodded. Fudge had been sacked. Scrimgeour was now Minister.
"No, no, I need to get going," Tonks insisted. " 'Night — "
"Dear, why not come to dinner at the weekend, Remus and Mad-Eye are coming — ?"
"No, really, Molly . . . thanks anyway . . . Good night, everyone."
Tonks rushed out into the yard and Disapparated. Genevieve stood.
"I'd better be leaving too. I've somewhere to be later today."
"Very well, dear," Mrs. Weasley said. "You're welcome at dinner too."
"I'll try to come, Molly," Genevieve promised.
Dumbledore stopped her on the way out.
"Genevieve," he said. "I'd almost forgotten. Sirius's will was discovered a week ago. A letter to you was found with it."
He handed her an envelope, on which was scrawled, "To Genevieve Snow, in the case of my death."
"Thank you," she said.
"I trust I will see you at Hogwarts on the first?" Dumbledore said.
"Yes, Professor. I'll be Apparating to Hogsmeade shortly before the students arrive."
"Good, good. I look forward to it."
Genevieve walked out and Apparated home.
Once in her room, she muttered, "Lumos!" and opened the letter.
Dear Genevieve,
If you are reading this, it means that I have died before I could properly explain the connection between us.
Your mother was a Black. Her given name was Alya Maia Black. She hated it. I don't remember precisely how we are related, as she was disowned very early on, after she had left for Hogwarts and been sorted into Ravenclaw, of all Houses. She had come home from school and confronted her parents about their pure-blood prejudices, something she had never believed in. It was, apparently, an intense enough argument to get her blasted off the family tapestry and we were forbidden from mentioning her.
She was several years older than I was. She had, by the time I arrived at Hogwarts, completely reinvented herself. Or maybe that's who she was all along. Her friends and teachers called her Allie. She lived with a friend when she was not at Hogwarts. She seemed truly happy.
And she was always friendly to me, probably as I was another outcast of the family. I cannot count the times Allie saved James and I from expulsion, even though she had planned some of our more elaborate schemes. She had this kind of personal magnetism, it was like everyone was drawn to her. By sixth year, she was dating the Muggle-born Noah Snow, and the rest was history.
After I ran away from home myself, she invited me over to their house quite a lot. When you were born, Allie named me godfather, a role I'm ashamed to say I never truly fulfilled. But I must say this. Your mother never wanted you to know she was related to the Blacks. While some might consider it the height of honor, she thought oppositely. I was to be a close family friend, an example that one was not always what their roots were. She didn't want to be it.
When I met you again, I did not recognize you at first. You see, your physical resemblance to her is not great, a fact she was overjoyed about. She didn't want you to be cursed with the Black family features, like she had been. But you share very similar personalities.
Allie was always smarter than anyone around, and she was fiercely loyal to those important to her. I had my suspicions that first night, when I escaped, especially when I found out your name was Genevieve. It was confirmed when you came to live at headquarters, and I saw your father again. We agreed that Allie would have wanted to wait until you were at least out of school to tell you about your past, and so I watched as you continued to be your mother alive again. It was hard for me to see you so grown up, and to know that I didn't have a hand in it.
I am sorry I'm not there to see you through life, but I wish you only the best, and I hope you don't let this discovery change who you are, because you are already so much better a person than almost anyone else in the family. Lupin told me that you knew about the Marauder's Map, so I'll close with this:
Mischief managed,
Sirius
•~0~•
"Genevieve!" Charlie exclaimed as soon as she had appeared, holding a chipped cup.
"Sorry," she said apologetically. "Didn't want to risk long-distance Apparation. A Portkey seemed like the best way, my dad pulled some strings to authorize it for me."
He hugged her tightly.
"I've missed you," he breathed.
She hugged him back.
"I've missed you too."
And she told him about the past year, about her mother and Sirius, about Umbridge and the D.A., and her and Hogwarts. When she was done, he hugged her again.
"Blimey," he said. "Your life could be a book."
Genevieve laughed. Charlie got to his feet.
"Do you want to see the sanctuary?"
Genevieve nodded. As he guided her around the sanctuary, she watched the dragons with awe. The Hungarian Horntail was just as stunning as she remembered. When they arrived back at Charlie's, they simply sat and talked and joked and laughed the day away. Genevieve was reluctant to leave.
"I'll see you again," he assured her. "At the very least, I'll see you next year for Bill's wedding. What's Fleur Delacour like, anyway? I've only ever seen her get her skirt lit on fire."
"Well," Genevieve thought. "I don't really know her that well, but, being nice, I'll say she's very vocal about her opinion, and, as you know, she's beautiful. I wouldn't doubt if she's part-Veela."
Charlie nodded. "You're better-looking," he said.
Genevieve laughed. "Not a chance."
"Okay, maybe not," he joked. He hugged her again.
"Goodbye."
"Goodbye."
She grabbed the chipped teacup and vanished.
•~0~•
A/N: I promise I will update; I'm working on the chapter now. I'm just going through a bit of a rough patch in my personal life and it's taking a lot of my time and energy at the moment. Sorry.