A/N: Hi! This is my first fanfic... I really hope you like it. Feedback is always appreaciated x.

Evangeline Walburga Cassiopeia Black.

Not exactly a name I'd pick for myself, not exactly a name anyone I know would want.

It's too long, for starters, Pureblood tradition being to name your child their own name, your name, and your mothers name. For girls anyway. My brothers are lucky. They have short names. There in, however, lies my only like for my name. My first name is completely original in the family tree. It's not borrowed, like Sirius or Regulus. It is completely my own, and I love that. But still, Evangeline Walburga Cassiopeia Black is a extremely long name. And having my mothers name in it doesn't make me like it more. So, I settle for nicknames, ones which disguise my last name. People are wary of the Blacks, and for good reason. My family is well known for funding the Dark Lord, being apart of his army, torturing muggles and muggleborns, arranged marriages. My parents, I found out, are second cousins. The thought makes me shudder. But that is the only way to keep our blood pure, apparently. But we'll have a lot more problems than having Pureblood if they carry on like that… But anyway, nicknames. Ev or Evvi for one, and if I'm feeling particularly in need for a new identity, if only for a day, Cassiopeia. Today, however, I am not Ev, Evvi or even Cassiopeia. I am Miss Evangeline Black, daughter of Lord and Lady Orion Black. The perfect Pureblood 'princess'.

The snake head of the door knocker, more specifically the sharp emerald eyes, stares me in the face, cruel, watching me. As stupid and cliché as it sounds, this time two or three years, I could not imagine that I'd make it back here, and yet, my feet planted firmly on the doorstep, here I am. My childhood home, which contains all my best memories. And the worst, of course. I blink slightly, suddenly nervous. Things have changed, in the past couple of years, for me especially, but to a wider extent, my close family. And I mean close by blood, not by emotions, mostly. My brother… I swallow. I can't bear to think of Sirius, because the thought of him makes me want to cry. How long has it been since I talked to my twin brother? Months, if not more. I cannot seem to work up the energy to knock on the door, cannot work up the energy to face another month of society balls and drama, before returning to school, Beauxbatons. Five minutes later, I settle for a sharp knock on the green painted door, and immediately regret it. That door may look like wood, but to fragile knuckles, it feels like a ten foot deep metal barricade. Actually, knowing my parents, that's what it probably is. The door opens, and a small creature looks out, with wide murky grey-green eyes, and hairy, bat like ears.

"Kreacher!" I softly say, and beam at him. I mean, this elf, practically raised me.

"Mistress!" He replies in his croaking voice, and bows low. He is wearing the 'uniform' that he has worn since forever, a carefully ironed, pristine white pillow case, embossed with family crest.

"You don't have to do that to me, Kreacher" I say quietly- Merlin forbid my mother hearing me actually speak civilly to a house elf. It just isn't how things are done here.

He looks at me, with his orb like eyes, brimming with tears. He always was an emotional one, Kreacher, cried at every act of kindness. Weird elf. I walk in, slowly, dragging my luggage behind me. It hasn't changed since I was born . The same, terrifying portraits watch me as I stand beside the trolls leg umbrella stand, waiting for Kreacher to announce me, making me feel more important to this family than I am.

"Kreacher takes little misses bags?" He says in his high pitched squeaks.

I hand him my trunk, with the peeling paint. It is probably best my mother doesn't see it. It's been over 365 days, and still I can remember those awful lectures on ladylike etiquette and tidiness. He cracks into space for a second, disappearing and leaving me alone, lost, and then suddenly appears right next to me again. I smile. I can't wait to learn apparition, this year. It will be fantastic. Able to go anywhere, in a millisecond. Able to travel to far off places, the beautiful mountains of Japan, Niagara Falls in America. The type of places I would love to go to. Of course, a lady doesn't travel to places like that.

"Mistress would like to see you , Miss Evangeline." Kreacher beams, walking toward the towering staircase carpeted with a deep green.

I fight to keep the grimace off my face. "Of course, Kreacher." I say softly, following.

Kreacher takes me up the stairs, smiling at the creepy stuffed heads of his ancestors on the walls. Literally, that is my elf's life ambitions. To be stuck up on a wall once he dies. You can tell he was raised in the Black family. I shiver slightly. It's always cold in this house, or perhaps that is just me. My fingers run along the mahogany banister, and I remember once when I was little, sliding down it. The lectures and punishment I got...

We enter the drawing room, on the second floor, in all its silver finery, and there is my dear mother, Walburga, not looking like she's aged since I last saw her. Though, she isn't all that old, only mid-thirties. She is sitting elegantly, a cold look on her face, her grey eyes and black hair so much like mine that we are mistaken for siblings sometimes.

My father sits next to her, immersed in his newspaper, a crease between is eyebrows. Silver hair has begun threading through his previously thick head of raven black curls, but he still doesn't look as old as he is, ten years my mothers senior. My little brother sits next to the fire, looking utterly bored, as he flicks through a thick volume aimlessly.

"Miss Evangeline Black, Sir and Mistress." Kreacher croaks, bowing so low he almost touches his toes, before, with a *crack* he is gone.

My father look at me for a second, and nods. "Evangeline."

"Father." I say politely, curtseying, and taking a plush couch to his right, next to my brother. "I trust you are all well?"

His face clouds over slightly, and my mother sniffs.

"Posture, Evangeline. Sit up straighter!" I sigh slightly, straightening up, all the memories of younger days flooding back.

"We are as fine as expected" my father says monotonously, in reply to my earlier question, returning to his paper for a second.

Okay... That's thrown me. I thought they wouldn't approach this subject.

"What, Father?" I say, my voice slightly high-pitched.

"Pardon, Evangeline, is the word you are looking for, and I will not talk about your blood traitor brother. And neither will you, do you understand?" He replies.

"We do not need that boy tainting our image." My mother continues, lips pursed.

I can't pretend that that doesn't hurt, them talking like he wasn't ours...Our brother.

"Of course, father, mother . You wished to speak to me?" I say, dangerously emotionless.

Walburga turns to me, giving up on my father replying.

"Yes" she says, same tone as myself, turning her scary beady eyes on me. "As you of course know, the event of our societal calendar is tonight, the Annual Pureblood Ball, and of course, as the only daughter we have, you are representing us as much as your younger brother is. You will act appropriately, I trust? " She questioned.

"Of course, mother." I reply, a smile on my face, stretched too wide.

"Good." She says, grimly. "Now, we must be there, as always, at precisely half past nine, so be ready to go at that time."

"Yes, mother" I softly reply, staring at my hands.

"Your dress is in your wardrobe, go and get ready immediately. You too, Regulus, dear." she says, speaking kinder to him, but that has been that way since we were a lot younger. At the same time Regulus and I stand up, me slightly more gracefully, as I hear my father speak again.

" Marcus will be there, Evangeline- I expect you to show appropriate behaviour."

I swallow, "Of course, Father."

Marcus- my 'promised'. Long story short, we are engaged without the formalities. Have been since I was born, he being a year older than myself, in seventh year, though he goes to Hogwarts, and is a pureblood bigot ,whereas I go to Beauxbatons, and as hard as it may be to believe , am not. Though he is a Avery so that is expected. One of the families who lets say... Worship adore the dark arts. Like my family, too, I guess. Not so much myself, but I never really have fit into the ideal daughter my parents wanted.

"And…" he pauses. "You will not bring up the subject of why you have been gone, or your condition." The word condition is patronising, and I feel anger boil in my veins. I want to yell at him, scream at him for all he has done. But all I do I emotionlessly look at him.

"Yes father."

"You are dismissed, child." My father says softly, as I walk to the door, to see Regulus holding it open for me. I hear my mother and father talking conspiratorially. I shrug it off. It's probably things that I do not want to know.

Once the door shuts behind us, Regulus gives me a bear hug, out of character for him.

"I've missed you, big sister." He says as he straightens up, a smile on his slightly childish face.

"Little sister now." I remark, as we walk up the stairs. "You've dons the impossible, you've grown even taller than when I last saw you!"

"Or you've just got smaller." He grins cheekily, pulling away as I ruffle his hair, which is chin length and the same colour and texture as mine - black and wavy. It is only our eyes that really differ - his are grey, almost blue sometimes, and mine are a unnatural shade of metallic silver.

"Perhaps." I laugh slightly. "How have you been? I haven't heard from you in a couple of weeks."

He scrunches up his nose. "This summer has been boring. I wish you could have come sooner, the tutoring and etiquette lessons are driving me mad."

I look at him, mock sympathetically. "I remember those days, little brother. And I would have come sooner, but my school ends later than yours, remember? So is that all you've been doing in your summer then? I bet you are dying to get out of here."

"We went to Cissys wedding a couple weeks back." He says, chattering about the last month, and I smile slightly. My brothers, or rather now, brother, has always been the best part about coming home.

We reach the second from last landing, and I blink, looking at the wooden door that faces me, carved intricately, with the name. Sirius Orion Black. I reach out my hand for a second, almost expecting my brother to be behind that door.

"We haven't heard from him." Regulus' voice is cold, colder than it should be. Almost uncaring. "He's staying at the Potters." He spits out.

"He really means it this time." I say, almost to myself.

"You shouldn't care, Evangeline. He…" He sounds like he doesn't want to say the next sentence.

"Doesn't care about me? I know Regulus. I got a letter a few weeks ago explaining that much." I say quietly. "I… can't blame him."

"I can. He's a blood traitor, who walked out on his family."

I hate my parents all over again for drilling these thoughts into my little brothers head.

I sniff slightly. "You're right." I lie, moving away from the room.

"I'm surprised that Mother hasn't cleared his room out yet." I continue.

"She couldn't. He put permanent sticking charms on everything."

I want to laugh, because, it shows to me, that Sirius hasn't changed. I don't, just keep listening to Regulus talk about Narcissa's wedding.

We reach the landing where my room is too soon, as he is just finishing a anecdote about Alphard, my uncle, falling into the punch bowl at Narcissa's wedding. I laugh, as I say goodbye. "Well, we'll catch up more at the ball, but for now, I have to get ready."

"Excited about seeing Marcus again?" He questions.

I choose to hide some truths from my younger brother, and this is one of them. He is too naïve to realise that to me this is just a arranged marriage. It is my duty, but there is no love or really much attraction involved. We are trying to do our families proud and continue the bloodline, as my mother always told me.

"Why, of course." I smile gently, no trace of sarcasm in my voice, which I am quite proud of if I am honest.

I shut the door, and breathe in the vanilla smell of my expansive room.

Two seconds later, however, I almost have a heart attack, when a small elf, Ophelia, bustles out of the bathroom.

"Little miss, Ophelia has drawn you a bath."

I smile at her, in greeting. We were never close, she is and always has been my mothers house elf, though she is old now.

"Thank-you, Ophelia."

"It is Ophelia's duty to serve." She says in her high pitched voice, curtsying and disappearing into thin air.

It's hours later that I finish pinning my hair into a intricate braided crown, finish putting on barely visible makeup, and zip up my dress. Of course, if my mother had her way, she would have me primped over by a stylist, like she does, but I hate all of that, making someone feel like my slave. It's lucky I can do all of that myself, and she usually lets me off with it, after I pass with her judgement. I look in the mirror, and I have to admit that for once, my mother has gotten a beautiful dress, a silver that almost exactly matches my eyes, intricately stitched with green embroidery, with what feels like one hundred petticoats making it stick out. I move almost stiffly toward the door, the corset I am wearing cutting off my breathing, as I pull on a thin cloak, to cover my goose-bumps on my arms. It is not exactly cold, but I am nervous, as I am every time at these balls. It is not just the people, either, but the press that stand at the door, that write vicious things if you step one toe out of line, its the food, it's the dancing, its the pure pressure of the night. I reach the bottom of the stairs, and find all my family sat in the foyer, waiting slightly impatiently. My mother stands, after my father and brother, and looks at my dress.

"That dress would look nicer if you had a figure, dear." I sigh internally, but am not surprised, I don't think she can go a hour without insulting me. She adds the dear to make it sound kinder, though it does not work. "But it will do."

"Thank you. You look pretty mother" I say back, forcing a smile. I suppose she really does. She's 34, and my brother leaving has not aged her one bit , though they never really loved each other, so it is not surprising . Her hair is woven into an intricate up do, similar to mine - it's not ' proper' to have your hair down at theses affairs. I guess we look similar, though my silver eyes are nothing like anyone's in our family, with wavy black hair, and wide eyes. I know we could be mistaken for sisters. But our expressions are what distinguish us, mine usually a lot more kind, whereas hers is cold, distasteful.

The ball is being held at Malfoy Manor this year, which is a large house, predominantly filled with death eaters, just like last year, and the year before. I dread this, every year. It's full of people who experience such hatred toward muggles and mudbloods. I guess I was lucky to live in France for most of the year- he who must not be named isn't as large there, so it's more safe- though I do not need safety. I'm perfectly safe, with my family majority at least supporting or funding him. I don't really know what to think. I believe that life is sacred, but all my life I've been brought up learning how my blood is pure and I should be proud. And how I am above everyone else. I wonder how many people aside from the pure bloods, actually like the Blacks here. I would say not a lot- my family is extremely prejudiced against everyone. Respectfully waiting until my father leaves first, my mother leads me out the door, not bothering to make small talk. Of course she always did hate me, me not being the son she wanted, and only really suitable to be married off. On top of my sort of disappearing act from this society around two years ago. On the front step, she extends her hand to me, and I place my slim hand in hers, Regulus taking my fathers, I see her eyes almost soften for a second as she sees the obvious differences in our weights, before it vanishes, and she closes her grey, piercing eyes, and spins around in a circle, and I'm dragged upward into the air, away from the black marble steps. Away from the empty family home.

I gasp slightly as my feet hit the floor, and before I even steady myself, her hand, not as comforting as any other parents, disappears, and she smiles politely. Not at me. We're on the front steps of the Manor, and several wizards stand at the door, with cameras and notebooks. The press. How joyful. I ear the click of camera's, the flash in my eyes.

"Head up Evangeline. Smile." She says through gritted teeth, taking my fathers arm, and I take my brothers, as I see the same bored look in his eyes too, and glides elegantly up the steps, me following almost as gracefully. I'm just thankful I didn't fall over. The foyer of Malfoy Manor is empty, though filled with sounds of the function. I take off my probably too expensive cloak, and pass it to one of the wizards at the door, waiting to take such items, like my mother did. Only, unlike her, I smile at the boy. He looks around my age, with one scar stretching down his face.

"Thank you." I breathe, making sure my mother doesn't hear. His eyes are shocked and I guess he hasn't got enough of thanks tonight. He smiles, tentatively.

"Evangeline! Stop talking to servants!" Mother hisses. A blush covers my cheeks, and I follow her through the high ceilinged room, toward the music.

"Smile." She hisses back to me, and I force yet another fake, dignified smile on my face. The only thing that betrays me is my shaking hands. I'm not ready for this. I'd give anything to be back home, in France.

We reach the grand doors, intricately carven with the family symbol. Another two Wizards stand on the entrance, and I look down to the people below. I'm stood on a balcony, and I internally sigh, as I hear my father talk, quietly, saying our names in curt voices.

"Lord Orion Black, his wife Lady Black, and their children, Mr Regulus Black, and Miss Evangeline Black." We are announced.

I hear applause, and quite a few whispers. Of course there is. The heir of the family is not here, after running away this summer. At least, that's the story. Rumour, whatever you call it. Or the truth. And the twin sister is back, after missing a few of these affairs the past several years.

My brother and I wait until out parents have reached the bottom of the stairs, and then we follow, splitting up, as I walk down one set of stairs, he the other. A smile is stretched upon my face, coated with a shiny light lipstick. I look out at the crowd, people I feel are just waiting for me to fall. And suddenly, I see a pair of hazel eyes. Not like the others in the crowd. Not filled with malice, hatred, or recognition. His eyebrows are furrowed in confusion, and his glasses slide slightly down his nose. And then, my foot hits the last step, and the crowd turn back to each other, and I'm waiting, waiting ... Thinking what the hell to do now. And then my mother comes, and for the first time I'm glad to see her.

"Mix with people, Evangeline. They've got a low enough opinion of you already. "

and with that lovely word she's gone. Gee thanks, mother

I stand for a second, contemplating what to do. And then, I catch the Hazel Eyed boys eyes. He's around my age, tall, probably nearly a foot more than me, and I'm taller than average. He has a sort of weird expression on his face, one of confusion, annoyance, and I don't really register him at first, who he his. It's when I see his messy hair that I realise it. James, my brothers friend. And from the look on his face, he knows me. And hates me.

My eyes drop to the floor, a blush forming on my cheeks, shamed.

The dancing starts barely half an hour later, half an hour of me trying to avoid my delightful relatives, and talking to my Uncle Alphard, who feels like one of the only people in this family who I get on well with, when my mother sweeps over, with another person I was dreading seeing.

"Evangeline, darling, look who I found!" She chirps, happier, and kinder to me than she has been for years now.

I look at the boy she is with. He has peroxide blonde hair, and pale skin, almost as pale as mine. His blue eyes are bright, but they hold a certain coldness in them, a calculating cruelness, that I hate. He has striking face, as my cousin Narcissa would say, but not beautiful, though the way he holds himself clearly states that he thinks he is.

I want to roll my eyes as soon as I see him.

Marcus Avery. Of course, my mother would have dragged him out of the depths of hell to talk to me.

"Marcus, it is a pleasure to see you again." I smile, barely, and I'm glad my sarcasm doesn't permeate the sentence.

"The same to you, Evangeline." He says, in that sickly sweet tone.

"Well, why don't you two dance, it is what we are here for!" My mother laughs jovially, but her eyes are telling me words she won't say out loud. Accept this, or be punished.

"Of course." He says, holding out a hand to me, and I shiver as I accept it.

"You two have fun." Alphard says, sarcasm evident, and I try not to smile.

"How have you been, this past year, Evangeline?" Avery asks, as I try to keep up the pretence of me actually being interested in the boy. The boy that in not so long, I will have to marry. I want to break down at the thought of it.

"Wonderful, Marcus." I simper. "And yourself?"

"I have been good too,darling." The pet name makes me want to shudder."I've missed you, at the Christmas Ball."

"Of course, I missed you too, Marcus."

"It's no good to have my fiancé in a different country, is it?" He says.

"It's not official yet, Marcus." I say, sweetly, but I know he detects the coldness, as we waltz.

"Now, now, there's no need to speak like that to me, is there Evangeline?" His tone is almost threatening.

"Of course not, I'm sorry,I don't know what has come over me." I cover.

"That's better." It makes my skin crawl, having to hear this, speak things like this. I am used to saying what I please, at least at school.

"But perhaps we will not be so separated soon, after all." He says, and I pause for a second.

"What,pray, does that mean Marcus?"

"Only your mother and father, telling my parents that they are considering moving you to Hogwarts, to fully induct you into the pureblood society, so you will be able to spend more time here."

My heart stops at that sentence, I swear.

"…What?"

"I would have thought you would have been happy at that, darling. We are going to be married very soon, and it would be fruitful to know my future wife."

I don't speak, in shock. Terror.

"Are you excited about our marriage, darling?" His voice is manipulative, cruel. He knows I'm not.

"Of course, Marcus. You seem like a rather nice man." The compliment doesn't come out well.

His hands grip my waist tighter, slightly. "That's not the way to speak to your future husband, Evangeline."

"Did my mother and father mention to you, Marcus, when… when the wedding-"

"As soon as you finish your education, darling."

"That's rather soon, Marcus."

".You are very slow, aren't you, Evangeline? I hope you don't pass that on to the Avery heirs." He says, cruel, laughing.

I pale.

"You don't seem very impressed about that, darling."

"Of course I am, I am just in shock."

"Shock that a man like me would pick a girl like you?" He laughs. I want to slap him. He's only two years older than me, what right does he have to call himself a man and me a girl.

Suddenly, our conversation is interrupted by a page, saying that Avery has been requested by his parents and mine in the reception room. I'm left alone, whilst everyone dances around me, but I can't say that I'm not happy.

Until I hear a voice.

"We need to talk."

I look at the boy I have never talked to, but know so much about. The infamous James Potter, a boy whose name I have heard uttered over the Black family table, in my brothers letters, for years. The boy who is like a brother to my own.

I nod, curtly, hold out my hand for him to take, as we begin to dance.

"Why are you back?." He says, shortly.

"Hello, to you too, James."

"Skip the niceties, Black." He hisses, a polite smile still on his face for the surrounding guests, as we dance around.

"I've been at every ball for the past sixteen years, James."

"This one seems a bit more permanent, don't you think? Considering that I've just been told that we have a new student at Hogwarts this year."

"Who told you that?" I hiss back.

"My parents. Care to confirm?"

I chew my lip. "…I'm not entirely sure myself. Mama and Papa have yet to confirm it…"

"But that's what you've heard?"

I give a curt nod. "Now What is this about?" I snap.

"Stay away from him."

"Who, Potter?" I say, malicious.

"You know. Sirius. He's managed without you. He will when you're there."

"I'm aware."

He stops for a minute, anger evident in his eyes. "You killed him when you pulled that stunt."

I swallow. "Potter-"

"It was cruel, stopping all contact with him. You hurt him. He thought you were dead, because that's the only reason he could think of that his twin wouldn't reply to his letters. Then he realised it was because you didn't want to associate with a blood traitor, wasn't it?"

"You have no idea about me, Potter, so I'd refrain from the accusations."

I pull away, when I hear his final sentence.

"He failed all of his exams that year, because he was so miserable. I've never seen my best mate like that, and I never want to see him like that again, you hear me? So if you do start Hogwarts, you stay away from him."

I walk away, trembling with suppressed anger and sadness. This had been a hell of a night.