dramatic irony: when the audience knows something that the characters do not.
"I'm bored," Bella groans. The word stretches, stretches, stretches until it snaps.
"We heard you the first six times," Reg complains, putting his hands over his ears. But both of them are correct, and Sirius has been fanning his face for an hour and a half, even with Andy's wide-cast cooling charm. Bella is the only one who's legal yet, but she could not be bothered. and while he certainly wouldn't have any trouble with a little rule-breaking, if his parents learn it's for a simple, pedestrian Cooling Charm, they'll have plenty to say. Well. Walburga will, at least, but his father won't be overly impressed with him either.
What else is new?
Sirius picks at his shirt front. Everybody's hair is pinned high and outer robes were given to the elves hours ago, but he wishes he could have brought a pair of denims over. He'd borrowed Remus's once last year and immediately fell in love with them.
"Everyone is bored," Andy says, consoling and reprimanding all at once. If that's an older-sibling trait, it skipped out on Sirius. She's sitting on a chair reading a book with her skirts pulled to her knees and her hair dancing with the gentle magic wind. Her patience is infinite, he knows, and he sees it now. They've been trapped in this dank old house for the whole morning and this half of the afternoon. Both sets of parents are out at some meeting they don't think their kids know about — or, in Aunt Druella's case, just thinks that "You're too young to understand," which is Sirius's least favorite adult excuse — with Andy, not Bella, left in charge. That part wasn't explicitly said, but it was clear in the way Uncle Cygnus patted her shoulder before the door closed loudly and the house elves disappeared again.
And that's fine. Sirius likes Andy. Even better, he trusts Andy, who didn't bat an eye at his Sorting or cast her disdain his direction for all of first-year like everybody else, even Reg. Also, she indulges in his smoking. So he likes her, though Bella is his favorite of all the cousins and second cousins and those removed and all the rest. Dear Cousin Bella. She hated him too, that first year, but he understands that. Mostly. It doesn't change the fact that their childhood was spent, one eldest sibling to another, stealing sweets and learning nasty jinxes on the regular.
"Then let's go do something," Reg suggests. Smart kid, that one, but also the dumbest one Sirius has ever known. "Gobstones, exploding snap-?"
"Done it," Bella interrupts, her voice like a lash. "Anybody have ideas that aren't for babies?"
"Practice," Cissa suggests promptly, and the distaste in the room rises viscerally. If there's a cousin Sirius hates, it's Cissa, pretty, prissy Cissa who reminds him of a swan.
All bones and preening, Cissa has always reminded of him a bird. Her and Bella both, but for different reasons. He supposes.
"I've got it!" Bella suddenly cackles. "We're going to take a little field trip." When no one rouses, she slams her hands against her thighs. "Well?" she demands, turning on each of them.
"I'm in," Sirius says promptly, and she gives him a smirk, cold and cutting. When Bella smirks like that, her friends laugh and her enemies tremble. Sirius has always been proud to know which side he stands on.
"No," says Cissa, crossing her arms. Reg mimics her.
"C'mon," Sirius wheedles, aiming his charm not at the wonder dorks but at Andy, the real influence. "We won't give you a hard time if we go." Which is the same thing as promising that there would be Gringotts to pay if she doesn't summon the forces. After a moment, Andy closes her book and sets it on the table.
"Off we go," she says with a smile. Bella and Sirius whoop and the kids drag themselves off the floor.
Sirius is gaping like someone has offered him the entire candy section of new joke store, Zonko's. They are standing outside Twilit Alley near Nocturn like a small squadron of penguins.
"Well, in you go," Bella urges, and shoves Sirius through the doorway. It's a shop of some kind, though he's never seen anything like it. Everything inside is darkly colored and a large portion of it is sectioned off. The two witches manning the counter are covered in jewelry that hangs off their faces.
"Hello there, sirs and madams," one of them greets cheerfully. Her voice is dry and hoarse but confident.
"What is this place?" Cissa asks quietly, ignoring her.
"It's called a tats parlor," Bella says. "See, look at her neck!"
The lot of them look at the woman behind the counter. Her robes plunge greatly in the front, revealing a litany of drawings and words across the uppermost part of her chest.
"They're permanent," Bella explains with glee. "Doesn't that sound wicked? They're new."
"Thank you, madam," the counter woman says.
"Yes," Andy says slowly, an eyebrow arched and a slanted smile on her lips. "Creativity does blossom ever-so-well under the right inspiration."
Cissa is more taken aback than taken with the idea.
"Are you mad?" she says, eyes on Bella like a hunting falcon. "Absolutely not! Permanent ink on my skin? What will Mother say?"
"Mother," Bella says sharply, "will never know."
"I'm not sure about this," Reg says, scratching his head.
"Oh, have it a bit of fun for once in your dull lives!" Bella cries. Andy sighs.
"Bella, tat...tats are very much all or nothing. If this is something you want, you should really consider it first," Andy says. Sirius blinks. He's never even heard of these tats before, but of course Andy does. She has a way of knowing more than the rest of them.
"You're not turning back," Bella hisses, eyes huge and fingers like talons on Sirius's wrist. Everybody looks at Andy.
(Andromeda sighs again and folds her arms and pretends it doesn't put a chill down her spine to think of Ted's face when, who knows how much later, he finally learns of the midnight scrawl written on her skin. She pretends she isn't thinking of his hands, wide and warm and welcome, reaching for the mark and kissing her slowly, reverently, like he always does when they depart. She pretends it doesn't thrill her to hide another bit of rebellion beneath her expensive robes.)
"Alright," says Andy, "we're doing this." Sirius pumps his fist in the air while Cissa's pink lips part in utter disbelief.
"What?!" she shrills.
"No!" Bella refuses, shaking her wild mane of hair in flat rejection. In her boots — for they are all dressed in a manner that suits their names, now — she towers over the wonder dorks. "I will not have the family crest printed of my body for the rest of my life. Why would you even consider it?"
"Family matters most," Cissa says. She's swallowed the drivel and made it stay. Sirius shakes his head. Parrot.
"So mum and father don't kill us if they find out," Reg answers much more cheerily. Sirius snorts, forgiving the squirt.
Still.
"Never," he swears, and the kids let the suggestion go. "This is harder than I thought it would be," he admits to Bella. He can hear Andy placating the kids now over roses and snakes. Snakes. The Families have always lived by Unspoken Rules, and there's a new one now: don't mention the House reject, aka him.
He peruses the aisles carefully, leaving out the skulls and flowers and crowns. He doesn't need those on his skin; he's already got enough of them in his life.
Then something else catches Sirius's eyes, and he ooohs.
"I've got it," Sirius decides. "All of us to a body are going to live with one of these for the rest of our lives." He points down to the dozen placards on an empty table and five heads lean in.
Surprisingly, miraculously, the fussing is limited. Dragons, after all, are nature's most excellent production.
"Does it hurt?" she asks quietly, too scared to hide her fear now that her family is out of earshot on the other side of the curtain. The witch gives her a grin.
"Not even a pinch," she promises, raising her wand.
An Antipodean Opaleye curls at the bottom of Cissa's foot.
"Make it scary," Reg requests, and then gives her a tiny grin. "And maybe a little green. I know they're mostly silver."
"Of course," the lady assures him, pulling thin gloves over her hands. She's got long fingernails. He wonders how they don't pierce the gloves. "How is this shade?" She rifles for a moment before pulling out a very familiar color tile. He breathes a sigh.
"That one."
A Ukrainian Ironbelly scales down Reg's calf.
"Discretion." It's one word from Andromeda's lips, but the witch takes it solemnly.
"You have my word, madam."
"Good. It's not every day you see two muggleborns running a successful shop this close to Nocturn Alley." The witch is too practiced to freeze up on the job, but Andromeda sees her lips purse. Oh, at the end of the day, she does so enjoy being a Slytherin.
"Yes, madam."
"I'm Andromeda."
The witch grins at her.
"I'm a halfblood." There is pride in the word, and Andromeda smiles at her.
A Chinese Fireball clutches the side of Andromeda's ribs.
"I am brilliant," Bella boasts, peering down at her own body.
"Yes, madam. And we are grateful for your patronage, madam."
A Hungarian Horntail snarls from on Bella's upper arm.
"This is wicked!" Sirius says, vibrating with excitement. "My mates are gonna love this, you know. You guys got a business card or something? I'll be back. I'm sure of it."
A Peruvian Vipertooth with its wings spread takes over the span of Sirius's shoulders.
a little innocence can't hurt. :)