Title: fish hooks in the corners of their mouths
Category: Books » Harry Potter
Author: deletrear
Language: English, Rating: Rated: T
Summary: "Monachopsis: The subtle but persistent feeling of being out of place." ... Not entirely accurate, but it'll do for describing the situation. People swallow that explanation easier than: 'I died once, but it's okay! I got better!' [SI OC, Black!OC, Marauders Era]
Dedication: This chapter goes out to billy for no particular reason apart from the fact that I've been moody as hell all week and my moirail deserves, like, way better than me tbh. *diamond*

.

03.

fish hooks in the corners of their mouths

even your emotions had an echo

.

Sirius laughed at me as soon as I walked through the door. It was less because I looked funny and more because Sirius was a certified jackass.

I frowned and sat across from him at the table, careful to keep the platter of pastries between us. I had a sticky paste on my cheek; a horrid coconut-smelling green concoction carefully covering the nasty hex Narcissa had sent at me. There were warts all over my fingers and welts covering my back. I looked as if I were suffering the rightful consequences of terrible hygiene, and Sirius was enjoying every moment of it. I counted myself lucky that my robes covered the darker spells. Better to have his laughing at me than have him glowering at his mother from a dark corner.

Unsurprisingly, it took a while for Sirius to calm down. "Do you know how to duel at all?"

"Theoretically, yes."

"Then why can't you put anything you learn into practice?" Sirius snorted and shook his head. "Pathetic."

I scoffed. "We can't all be as prodigious as you, Sirius."

"Well, no. That would be unfair." He said without hesitation. I wasn't surprised. Sirius had admirable sense of self-value. It galloped right over the line of separating 'confidence' from 'narcissism'. He wasn't slightly ashamed of it.

"I have to ask then. Is there anything you are good at?" He asked me, stretching out to pluck a blueberry tart from the top of the pile. He had crumbs all over his dark robes and no inclination to clean himself up. "I've never met a worse dueller. All you do is run away or throw up a shielding charm."

"Of course I'm good at something." I frowned harder at him. He waggled his eyebrows and popped his fingers into his mouth, sucking obnoxiously loud. "I am good at running away and throwing up shielding charms."

"Evidently not, considering the jinxes on your body."

"Maybe I'm hiding my true potential beneath a veneer of incompetency."

"Excuses, excuses." Sirius snorted and picked up a small club sandwich, practically inhaling it. Just looking at him made me sick. How could he eat so much? "There's nothing to be ashamed of. I'm sure we will all continue to hate you as much as usual if we were to discover your status as a squib."

I rolled my eyes at him. I grabbed a raspberry tart and nibbled on the ends of it, not too hungry despite the duel I just finished (and lost, in the most humiliating fashion possible for someone to lose a duel). Duelling was… not a strong point of mine, to say the least on the subject. Me and face-to-face confrontation simply did not get along. Even if the wand I was using had been mine and not the spare one we kept around for the underage children to duel with until they were legally allowed to own a wand, I was pretty sure I'd still suck.

I was uncomfortable with duelling. I didn't have enough destructive, raw power or considerate control over my magic when I fought. Offensive spells hated me. Stuck at the wrong end of a wand, the only thing I could think was 'run'. No hexes. No jinxes. Just the urge to flee as quick as my little feet could take me.

Alas, for all my track and field capabilities, I was not faster than one of Narcissa's spells. She always caught me. The only thing duelling helped me with was my ability to dodge or my reaction time for the shielding charm. The rest was a sound trouncing that taught me nothing except what the dark wood timber floor tasted like.

Sirius had snatched up another tart from the table. I was only half way through my own. "You're disgusting." I told him and his full mouth. He was making a mess of himself like some sort of child.

Sirius grinned with his teeth, showcasing the chewed food in his mouth. I very honestly gagged. He swallowed—again, way too loudly—and crowed in success. I'd never understand boys. Sometimes I thought they weren't too bad and that I could maybe learn to live with them, and then they did their damnedest to prove me wrong, and I was disgusted by them again. One day I'd learn my lesson, I supposed.

Sirius pointedly grabs a little cupcake and peels off the wrapping. "I'm a growing boy." He shoved half of the cupcake in his mouth. I was sure he was being as gross as possible to put me off. It was working.

I wrinkled my nose and throw my handkerchief at him. "Growing idiot, more like."

"You're just jealous because I'm better than you at everything." He wiped his mouth with the hanky and wiped the crumbs off his robes onto the floor.

I folded the handkerchief, wondering at the nearest opportunity when I could burn it. "I'm better than you with wards." I reminded him. Truthfully, I was better than everyone with wards. I was really fucking good with wards. I remembered the lesson when we discovered my aptitude for them. It hadn't impressed Mother or Aunt Walburga, but it sure had pissed Sirius off. For that reason alone I made sure to thrive in that area of magic. "Wards hate you."

"Wards are a useless area of magic."

"All that salt might ruin the taste of the tarts for you, dearest cousin."

"Don't insult me with phrases that don't even make sense!"

"… Furry."

Sirius looked annoyed with me on principle. He broke off a piece of his pastry and pegged it at my head. Thanks to my years of duelling expertise, it was easy to dodge the projectile. Of course, Sirius wasn't actually an idiot, and had thrown a second one slightly lower than the first, and that one hit me smack in the forehead, but I dodged the first one and I figured that had to count for something.

"Use words that actually exist, you bimbo. Hey," Sirius broke off another piece and threw it at me again. "tart for a tart!"

Okay, I thought. It's that time of the month again. I picked up a club sandwich and disassembled it, laying out the individual ingredients on the table in front of me. I mentally apologized to the House Elves responsible for cleaning the room. It was going to be a chore when we were finished. "A shite sense of humour to match your hideous robes, my, Siri, what bold fashion choices you're making!" As I yelled, I pick up a piece of soggy lettuce and throw it with all I am worth.

Splat!

Bulls-eye!

"Not the hair!" Sirius screeched, before scrambling across the table to scoop as many tarts as he could fit in his arms. I armed myself with the sandwiches and dived just in time to miss a strawberry tart. I threw a few slices of ham at him. He smacked the flying lunch meat with the back of his hand. "So you wanna play with the big dogs, huh!?"

"The only big thing in this room is your over-sized ego!"

"Jokes on you, a high self-esteem is nothing to be ashamed of! Your words do nothing to me—whoa!"

I grinned to myself and curve balled a triangular piece of bread that stuck to his cheek. Thank you, Kritter, for being overly generous with the butter as per usual. For once, it worked in my favour. "Don't waste time monologue-ing when you should be paying attention, Siri! That'll get you hurt!"

Sirius wiped the left over butter from his face and rolled his neck. He ripped a tart in half, making the pastry soggy and dripping the berry juice everywhere. I took a moment to mourn the loss of the lovely cashmere robes I was wearing that day. But the dead didn't worry about their fashion choices when they were being lowered into the ground, and I would die before I dishonoured myself here.

"Come on then! Is that all you got?" Sirius crowed, then choked a bit, since I had done the miracle of miracles and landed a slice of salami right in his mouth. The smile was frozen on his face. He looked confused for a moment, likely wondering, When did this salami get here?

I snorted. "Told you. Keep that gob shut and you might have a chance of surviving this."

"Alright. I'm serious now." Sirius said, and then propelled a pastry at me. It splatted against the wall behind my head. "That was the obligatory pun done, by the way. You don't need to pick up my sla—stop throwing lettuce at me when I'm talking!"

"Then take me serious and fight!"

"I thought I was Sirius!"

"You just said the obligatory pun was out of the way!"

"I couldn't just let the opportunity to pass now could I? Think fast!" I didn't think fast. The raspberry tart exploded in my face and likely did some curious interloping with the green paste on my cheek. Sirius barked a laugh at whatever expression was on my face. "Let's make this quick." He said, throwing another.

I actually dodged that one. I pointed at him and hissed, "No wandless magic, cheater."

Sirius was actually quite good at wandless magic—yet another thing he was better than me with. He didn't find a lot of uses for it in Grimmauld Place and he seemed to doubt he ever would, but wandless magic was definitely a boon during a wandless food fight. It was better that I established the rules now before he duplicated his ammo and completely annihilated me.

Sirius had the gall to look offended. "Me? Using wandless magic? I would never."

"I'm serious." I said, and glowered at him to dissuade him from the pun. It looked like it physically pained him to hold his tongue. "You put away your magic and I'll put away my shields and we'll try and kill each other with food like civilized people. Deal?"

"But you're faster than me."

"You're stronger than me."

Sirius nodded. "Alright, sure, that's true. Deal. Should we countdown?"

I narrowed my eyes. "Alright, if you want to… One."

"… Two." He said after a lengthy pause.

We stood there, glaring at each other suspiciously. Sirius tensed his shoulders, jerking a bit to the left. I twitched. He smirked and waggled his eyebrows at me, obviously quite pleased to see me jump. He feinted left. I jumped a bit to the right. He looked overjoyed by my reactions.

Fine then, I decided, If he wanted it to be like that, then I'd give him what he wanted.

I bellowed: "THREE!" and leaped forward, attaching myself to Sirius' front and taking us both down. Sirius shouted, and I shoved my grubby edible ammo into his open mouth, making it as disgusting and uncomfortable as possible. While he preoccupied himself with spitting out the sandwich, I sprinted back over to the table and grabbed more sandwiches.

Sirius recovered quickly, however, and before I knew it there was a soggy pastry connecting with the back of my head. I shrieked, "Watch the hair!"

"There is no mercy in war!"

"Remember that you said that, dog." I responded, then threw a tea cup at him.

Sirius looked thrilled. "Wicked." He breathed, a handsome grin on his face. "We can do that?"

"We can do that."

"Cool." Said Sirius, and then he exploded into action.

It. was. on.

...

Andromeda found us in the aftermath, exhausted and covered in food bits. She looked around at the destroyed room and watched the ham on the ceiling fan spin around in circles for a few times. Under her boots was an amalgamation of blueberry tart, salami, egg and tea that should have never been. There was raspberry juice splattered on the walls like a murder scene; and right in the middle of it were me and Sirius, catching our breath and resting our arms. There were great big grins on our faces. My cheeks hurt from smiling. There was an ache in my stomach from our shared laughter—the only type of pain I'd ever experienced that I found myself loving.

Andromeda looked at us silently for a long, long time. The ham dislodged itself and flew in her direction. It hit the doorway beside her head. She didn't so much as twitch. "What," she said in an even voice, "the bloody hell happened here?"

"That's a bad word." I said.

"Don't be such a piece of soggy toast, Cal."

"Don't call me that."

Sirius stuck his tongue out at me.

Andromeda made a strangled noise. "I hate coming back here for hols."

"But we're so glad to have you here, Andy!" I wheezed, giggling a little.

Sirius snorted. "Yeah, we love you, Dromeda."

Andromeda groaned and screamed: "KREACHER!"

...

… Yes. I do still maintain that Sirius and I never got along. What's that look for, huh? We did spend our developmental years at each other's throats. Are you not listening to me? We just spent an hour throwing cups and food at each other, yelling biting insults and meeting each other blow for blow. I still don't like him and he doesn't like me.

No, I would not say that Sirius is my favourite cousin. That is still Evan.

…

…. Well of course it is. 'Even after everything he's done?' I don't know for sure that he's done anything. Besides, Evan continues to read to me, although not as frequently as he used to when I was younger. I'm ten years old at that point. I don't blame him for stopping, exactly, and he is quite busy these days—

… Don't ask me that. Please, don't ask me that. I don't know to know or tell you what he's busy doing. You don't need to hear it. I don't want to hear it.

(Do you know how hard it is to try and love the only family you have left and knowing that despite your earnest efforts, the core of them remains something dusty and black and irredeemable—)

He's still my favourite. I have nice, peaceful memories of Evan. Sirius is the King of all Dramatics, you know, so there isn't really any peaceful moment with him. I like my quiet time too much to ever consider him a favourite of mine. If I were to widen my subject pool outside familial relationship however, I would have to say Pandora was my favourite. I'm still not sure.

...

Bellatrix wasn't around much anymore. She spent a lot of her time at Grimmauld Place with Aunt Walburga and Uncle Orion. She was always busy with some errand or another so even when we went there to visit her, it was a coin flip whether or not she'd be there. Besides her constant absence, she was strange lately. Less and less like my older sister and more and more like someone I'd steer clear of in a dark street. Bit discomfiting, that.

The last time I saw her was her wedding—or the official and passionless union of her and Rodolphus, because I thought it an insult to actual weddings to consider hers one. It was an almost scandalously short affair, actually. They went through the customs as quickly as wizardly possible and disbanded as soon as the certificates were signed. I barely had the opportunity to congratulate her. After that… poof. That was it. She was always busy.

Like, come on, right? What exactly did I even mean to her that she couldn't take a few hours out of her busy schedule to stop by and ask me about my day?

(So I was bitter. Sue me.)

Nearly two months had passed before I would properly see her again. Worse yet, I would barely recognize her when I did: her hair would be loose, wild and snake-like, occupying the air in the room that her presence does not. She was swathed in charcoal robes that hang loosely from her figure, swishing in a semi-circle around her with every movement. Her warm brown eyes were very round on her gaunt face, and she was grinning with all her teeth when I walked in, deep in a whispered conversation with her husband and brother-in-law.

I had mistook her for Mother, at first, which is why I crept into the room unseen and unheard. I learned a long time ago not to aggravate my mother. It was when Bellatrix laughed that I looked up from my feet and recognized her: it was her eyes, at that moment. While different, I could recognize that shade of brown under polyjuice potion and twenty glamour charms.

She unsettled me. I'll admit it. Seeing her then, she unsettled me.

But I'd still missed her. How could I not? This was the sister I had grown up with. Whoever she goes on to become with rank secondary to that inborn position.

"Bella?" I stuttered, mouth agape. Bellatrix, Rodolphus and Rabastan looked up, tense. Dressed in black as they were, they looked like starving panthers about to pounce. Bellatrix lifted her hand in a sharp motion as soon as she laid eyes on me. The brothers sunk back into their chairs, cautious beady eyes on me. I swallowed, suddenly at a loss for words. "… You're back."

"I visit often." Said Bellatrix, standing to her feet. She glided over to me and grabbed my face in her hands, twisting my head here and there, checking me over. It was a familiar action. I went limp and waited for her to be done with me. "I see you scarcely though, little sister. Where are you these days?"

"At Pan's house." I answered. "Pandora Travers?"

Approval flashes through Bellatrix's eyes. "A Travers? They're a good sort. Almost as pure as we are." Almost, because no one was ever quite as pure as the Black family. "It is a good union. I do hope you'll continue to influence her."

Uh. "Yes, of course, Bella." I said, although I wasn't really sure what she was talking about. "Anything for you."

Bellatrix nodded, releasing my face. She grabbed my hands and examined them. "Your nails are dirty."

"Gardening, Bella. The gloves don't keep all of it away."

Bellatrix scoffed and dropped my hand like it had burned her. She tweaked my nose. "You really oughtn't indulge in the servants work, Dora. Your inclination towards physical labour could be considered you greatest flaw." There was an undertone to her voice that made the hairs on my nape stand up. The way the Lestrange brothers were peering at me might have also had something to do with it.

I forced a grin onto my face. "Reckon I could trounce you in an arm wrestling contest though!"

Bellatrix blinked. The lines of her face softened. She looked more like Bella and less like Madam Lestrange. I preferred this version of her. "I think not, little sister." She snorted. It reminded me of Narcissa's delicate little snort. I missed Narcissa too, these days. Andromeda as well. She was always at Hogwarts. She was also the only sister I had left in this life that wasn't destined to be the mistress of all things racist. "I'm afraid I remain superior to you in every way."

"Betcha five galleons that I'm better with wards."

Bellatrix barked a laugh, startled by my overly childish tone. I reckoned I could get away with it for as long as it took her to remember my actual personality. We hadn't seen each other for so long that I could milk her big sister instincts for a week before she got smart (which I did, of course, because I'm still a Black among everything else). "You're a ten year old without a wand. I'd rob you blind."

I shrugged. "Eh. If you say so. I'd probably just let you win anyway so you wouldn't feel inferior."

"Oh, I've never felt inferior before."

"I know, that's why I'd let you win. Spare you the grief and all."

Rodolphus suddenly snorted, startling me half out of my skin. "Brat reminds me of Rabby when he was a rascal. Never knew when to hold his tongue until Father personally taught him how."

"It's true," Rabastan smiled: an unkindly thing. "I was a little shit. Better now, 'course. I know my place. I even figure I could teach your little sister hers, if she's interested."

I was not interested. Not at all.

Bellatrix's eyes went round again. She curled her lips back over her teeth and said, very softly, "I think not, Rabastan. Callidora is mine. Let it be known that no one shall touch her without my express consent."

"Possessive, are you?" Rabastan tilted his head. "She isn't just yours. She's his as well."

Bellatrix inhaled sharply. "That may be so," She hissed. "But she still is not yours to touch. He is a different matter altogether. You're barely loyal enough to lick the mud from his shoes."

"Ah now, Bella, don't tell me you're jealous of sharing him. That's it, right? That's why you're so hostile?"

"I'm hostile because I don't tru—"

Rodolphus cleared his throat. He said, "You garden, do you, Callidora?"

I froze. Bellatrix and Rabastan's heads snapped to look at me. They looked seconds away with whipping out their wands and throwing Unforgivables at each other. The last place I wanted to be was between them. Naturally, that's exactly where I was positioned.

"I do." I answered Rodolphus. "I find it calming."

"Calming, do you? Do you enjoy chatting with the earth worms?" I blushed in humiliation, as was expecting of me, and ducked my head. As soon as I was sure my hair fell into my face, I curled my lips back from my teeth and took in a careful breath. I really liked gardening. It sincerely pissed me off when people kept telling me it was some sort of inferior hobby. "That means you are familiar with poisonous plants, right?"

I tensed. Then forced myself to relax. "I've read about a few of them, yeah. They're neat."

"The prettiest ones are often the most dangerous ones." Rodolphus, a note of agreement in his voice, even though I never said anything close to what he was. "I'm sure we could put a skill such as yours to use. What about your other skills? Wards, did you say? You are proficient with wards?"

"I… I suppose."

"A flimsy branch of magic." Rodolphus hummed. "Do you have any other talents? Useful ones, perhaps? Can you duel?"

"Not… not as such." I kept my head bowed. Why did I need to be able to duel? I wouldn't ever be put into a situation where I'd be forced to defend myself face-to-face. I played to my strengths. Always.

"Potions, then?"

"Uh… no."

"Hm." Rodolphus scoffed. "Not even Charms? Transfiguration? None? My… you're about as useful as a broken chair. And you don't even have the nerve to look me in the eye when I'm talking to you. Is she truly related to you, Bella? She's so… small." Inferior, he was saying. I was insignificant. Worthless. Pure-bloods, I found myself thinking. They're all the same in the end.

"As I said," Bellatrix hissed, "she is mine to hurt, Rodolphus. Hold your tongue." Rodolphus' eyebrows ticked up again, but he raised his hands in surrender and relaxed back into his seat. When I looked up, eyes misty, he quirked an insincere half-smile at me that turns my blood to ice.

I looked away first.

Bellatrix turned to Rabastan. "Is there anyone else who has anything to say about Dora?"

Rabastan squarely met her eyes. "There is plenty I could say about that one." He said, teeth bared. "I'll save it for later, perhaps. I wouldn't want to tear up your aunt's living room. I take pride in being a respectful guest."

"That's one word for it." Bellatrix said coldly. Rabastan looked gleeful at her words, his hand inching towards his hip. Bellatrix tracked the movement, her own hand twitching. I knew all it would take was a flick of her wrist and she would put him down like a rabid dog.

I also knew that I didn't want to see that.

I whispered. "Bella…" She stopped moving but did not look away from her opponent. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to say. I hadn't really thought that far ahead. I decided, for once, to use the truth. "Bella, could I… I would like to return to my room… with your permission."

"No." Bellatrix said quickly. "No, there is something I must tell you. Wait."

I waited.

Rodolphus looked at his nails. "I don't want to be here any longer, Bella. You've met your pet squib. Tell her what she needs to know and then let us leave." He didn't even look up from his cuticles. "Rabby, down."

"Not a dog." Rabastan replied, though he took his hand off his wand. Bellatrix watched his quietly, eyes still big and brown and wide, but his truce appeared genuine. Bellatrix made a huffy noise and looked for an honest moment like she was about to spit on him. Her throat was working and her teeth were getting bigger and whiter with each inch that her lips moved back. I don't know how she reigned herself in.

Instead of spitting, she whispered, "Dora."

I blinked. I grabbed the hand dangling at her side. My eldest sister was so tall these days. So big and tall and mean and powerful. She probably hadn't had anyone hold her hand for a while. "Yes?" I replied. Her hand tightened convulsively around mine for a second, and then she was prying her fingers loose.

I let her.

"There is to be a party tonight." Bellatrix said, whipping back around to face me properly. She looked a bit unhinged, fingers twitching at her side. Her husband was still reclined in his seat, appearing unperturbed by the hostility leaking from his wife and brother. Bellatrix stroked my face again. "At the Carrow Place. It will be a wonderful time for you to… get to know the children of your generation. After all, they will be your allies when you go to Hogwarts. All of them are guaranteed for Slytherin."

Slytherin. I felt on edge just at the thought of it. "Will Acheron be there?"

Bellatrix raised her eyebrows. "You want to see the boy?"

"No," I shook my head. "Merlin, no. I want to know so that I can prepare excuses to avoid him."

"That could be considered an insult and you don't want to be insulting the Carrow's." Bellatrix's eyes were narrowed in warning. "I know you don't like the betrothal contract but it is for your best. You can't inherit any of the Black fortune as a cousin to the heir, but as a wife to Acheron, you could…" Bellatrix glanced to the side. Rodolphus' eyebrows were hitched. Bellatrix smiled at me, plastic. "… but that's here and there, and hardly relevant. You're too young to be thinking about that anyway."

"… If you say so, Bella."

"I do." Bellatrix huffed. "And he will be there—you little fiancée."

"I thought he was staying in Hogwarts for the holidays." I was obviously disappointed. And also doing my best to ignore the Lestrange brothers.

"You're thinking of Hector, the older one. He's… well, I guess you could say he's handling a few business errands for his father. Nothing for you to worry about, in any case. You should go upstairs and inform Cissy of the gathering—I'm sure she'll be quite happy to paint herself up for this."

A Carrow ball. I… really didn't want to go.

"Yes, Bella. I'll see you…?"

"Soon, I promise."

"Okay. It's nice to see you again."

"Go, Dora."

I left. I had missed Bella, but I didn't think I would mind if I didn't see her for another two months.

...

The Carrow ball was the last public gathering of pure-bloods that I can remember being a part of before my sorting. It wasn't particularly enjoyable. I was never one for parties. I didn't like the decorum, the masks, the gaudy robes or the complicated dishes. I excelled with pure-blood customs and mannerisms, as was expected of me, but I didn't have much respect for them.

I felt many-eyed and many-legged, perched in the corner, more powerful than any of them ever noticed. All they saw when they looked at me was the youngest child of Cygnus Black: a pushover, a spare, a mare And yet, I didn't feel inferior to them. Not in the ways they felt prevailed, at least. I knew my own value. It weighed better than theirs.

(How many faces had my eyes danced across tonight belonging to a dead man? How many of these witches would be dead in a decade? How many powerful witches and wizards in this hall were marked by a madman, leashed like attack dogs? I didn't know the exact number: not because I couldn't tell—certain ones gave off a sort of aura, an uneasiness, like ghostly fingers trailing over the back of my neck—but because there was too many to keep count of.)

Moving on: Pandora was there that night. I'd watched her disappear into the swell of people to find a drink. The apple cider at the table I was guarding had been consumed. Primarily by me. I had already peed seven times by the time Frank Longbottom approached me.

I didn't think much of Frank.

…

…

… That's it. That's all I have for you on him. No long introspection about the heir of the Longbottom line. I really, truly, have nothing much to say to him.

Oddly enough, he has always had a strange amount to say to me. I never understood it.

"So… are you… having fun?"

I sighed softly into my empty cup. Frank Longbottom was watching me for my response carefully. It would be rude not to reply—insulting, in fact. So I went for the next best thing: Blunt rudeness. "No." I said flatly..

I think I could physically feel his feelings being hurt.

"Oh. Um… why not?" I shrugged. Like I was going to tell Frank about my discomfort in large crowds and how it gave me a headache, like staring at a rainbow coloured spinning spiral for a minute too long. "… Still not much of a talker, huh? That's okay. I like it about you."

I looked away from the spot on the wall at that. "You like that about me?" I questioned.

Frank's face flared up. His face now clashed horribly with his scarlet robes. "As a friend, of course! I like that about you in a friendly way! Not, not in a, like, non-friendly way, or any way more or less than friendly. I wouldn't ever think that way about you." I must have looked surprised. Frank winced. "Not to say that you're unattractive or undesirable, you're plenty desirable! … is what I'd say if I liked you. That way. In a more than friend way. Which I don't, so there's no need to worry."

I stared at him in silence, asking him with my eyebrows, Who's worrying?

Frank winced again and sighed deeply, setting his untouched champagne to the side. He bowed his head and little bit and mumbled, "I'm… going to just… go and save myself the extra embarrassment. I'll see you later, Callidora… or… not…" He sighed again and walked off, looking like a kicked puppy. I watched him go, more than a little confused about what just happened.

I shrugged. Whatever. I guess I just didn't understand Frank. You couldn't win everything. At least the conversation hadn't dragged on.

Small victories.

Pandora returned with two flutes filled with a pale drink and handed one off to me. "Was that Longbottom again?" She asked, swirling her drink around. I accepted the flute. I took a sip. Vermouth. I put the flute down. "He must like you more than I thought if he still tries to talk to you."

"He's weird." I muttered, glowering at my empty hands. I was thirsty. "I don't get him at all."

"He just wants to get to know you."

"Why?"

Pandora smiled, looked at me from the corner of her eye, and took a long drink from her wine. "I honestly can't figure out a single reason."

"Hilarious." I grabbed the neck of the flute and gently redirected it away from her mouth. "Don't drink too much of that. You're too small for it."

"It's watered down."

"Still. Vermouth isn't weak." I cast a glance around the room and then empty the drink out under the table. Pandora made a soft, outraged noise, hissing something under her breath that I took care in not catching. "I've seen a couple of glasses knock a fully grown wizard out."

Pandora let out a long breath. "What is it with your aversion of alcohol?"

I rolled my eyes at her and grabbed her sleeve, tugging her as I walked away. As soon as I'm sure she's following me, I let her go. "Alcohol makes you stupid." I defended myself, uncomfortable with the glare I felt on my back. "Your brain is the best part of you. I'd hate for you to lose it."

"I like to think I'm quite pretty as well."

"You are the moonlight and stars personified." I assured her. We ducked behind a door together. It was a living room, fit with a low-burning fireplace and an untouched platter of fruit sitting on the table. All the furniture in the room was a rich brown colour. The couch was leather, with a warm golden blanket thrown over the top of it. I hadn't expected such a welcoming room from the Carrow's. There was apple cider there too, which I pointed out to Pandora. "We're not exactly going to dehydrate tonight, Pan. Better apple cider than vermouth."

She didn't look impressed. "You'll be fun at parties."

"If the only entertainment at a party is the buffoonery of drunkards, then I'm sure I don't want to go to the party in the first place."

"Or so you say," Pandora said, drinking her non-alcoholic apple cider. She smiled at me. I feel forgiven. "Next year. We'll sneak into a seventh year party, see for ourselves. Oh, don't pull that face." I consciously reformed my face so that I was not grimacing. "It'll be good for you. We all need to be introduced to new and exciting things."

"I don't need to be introduced to a drunk witch, Pan. I'm well-acquainted with the concept."

"Is that so?" Pandora smoothly switched out her empty glass with my full glass and sipped. Her glass had her lipstick stained on the edge. I wiped at it with my thumb and stared at the contrast the waxy lipstick made against my skin. Pandora wore a lighter lipstick than I did—a soft, almost nude pink, whereas I wore a dark brown. Her mother really enjoyed playing up Pandora's natural ethereal quality, turning her into a fairy instead of a little girl. My mother, on the other hand, preferred her children to look like the undead, which was considerably less charming than faeries, you realize.

I didn't mind all that much though. Mythical suited Pandora. She was another universe.

"… ah, just like old times…"

"Oh. Sorry."

"It's fine. I almost missed this. You. Me. Hiding away from all the other guests. It's been a long time since I've watched you get lost in your own head."

She's laughing, I realized a moment too late, even though I hadn't exactly stopped staring at her. The fireplace was doing funny things to the shadows on her face. My stomach turned, even though I had barely touched the alcohol the entire night, and I had a mad thought that I was going spit up my dinner all over Pandora and ruin this for the both of us. She grinned at me before turning to stare into the fire. I watched her. I wondered which parent she inherited the long eyelashes from—I couldn't recall ever noticing them on either.

"Cal." Said Pandora, leaning in closer than she ought to out in public like we were. "Are you sure you're okay? Is this about the wine? You don't look too good."

I leaned back and shook my head. "Sorry, sorry. I was thinking again."

"It seems that's all you ever do." Pandora giggled. "Would you like to sit down?"

"I'm fine, Pan. Really. If anything, I suppose we should stop hiding away. Your parents will notice your absence."

Pandora sighed airily. "I really wish they would stop hounding me like they do. I can't breathe. I'm looking forward to Hogwarts, you know. It'll give me some time away from them." I feel the same way about my own family, though maybe the relationship dynamic is a spot different. "Speaking of family… where is your cousin? I haven't seen him about all night."

"Regulus or Sirius?"

"Sirius, of course. I know perfectly well where Regulus is." At Aunt Walburga's side, as he always was.

"I haven't the faintest." I muttered, grabbing the half-empty glass from Pandora's gentle grip and finishing it off. She watched me tip my head back and scull it with a look of faint bemusement. Probably thought it was an unsophisticated gesture for someone of my standing. "He's off making trouble for his mother, I suspect."

"He's rather good at that, isn't he? Making trouble?"

"Oh, Sirius is rather proficient at a lot of things, making trouble the least of it. Don't let his charisma fool you. He's a sneaky guy. Smarter than me, I reckon."

Pandora looked surprised. "I never considered him stupid but are you sure he's smarter than you? You're not an idiot yourself."

"I'm certain. I have more patience than him, but that's about it. I imagine if he's about making trouble that there isn't much we can do to stop it."

Pandora didn't skip a beat. "Who said anything about wanting to stop him?" I paused, set my glass down, and allowed my lips to curl into a fond smile. Pandora grinned back, crooked and elastic, and my stomach curdled again. "Do you figure he'll be out on the balcony?"

...

Carrow Sr. was frothing at the mouth by the time Pandora and Sirius were finished. Even as an untrained witch, a quick amateur exploding charm could always do the job (it helped that chaos was sort of the point when it came to a well-aimed reducto). Pandora and Sirius continued waltzing around on the floor, hiding their giggles by leaning in extra close and pretending to whisper to each other. I watched a wand slip up Pandora's sleeve as they spun and spun away from the shattered ice fountain—now snowflakes falling from the sky, among vermouth wine and apple cider. I was to the side, clear of the target of affect area, observing.

Sirius danced Pandora across the room until they were standing by my side. Sirius was flushed, smirking like he was the coolest guy in the room, with his arm thrown around Pandora as if they were friends. He said to me, "Nice catch with this one, Cal. She's good people, for a stuffy pure-blood."

"Don't call me Cal." I said. "And you're a stuffy pure-blood, if you don't recall."

"It's different!" Sirius protested hotly. I had to agree. It was.

Pandora tilted her head, a question forming on her lips, before something warm crashed into her gaze and her mouth softened into a smile. She had smiled a lot tonight. I hadn't known she liked parties so much. "Your cousin is a riot, Cal, I quite enjoyed his company."

"You'd be the only one who ever has."

"Charming, isn't she? And why do you let her call you Cal and not me?" Sirius said dryly. Pandora grinned, looking quite pleased with herself. I didn't know why. "You know what, Pandora? You should stick with me tonight. Promise I'll be a lot more fun than that wet blanket."

"I happen to like wet blankets," Pandora drummed her spidery fingers across her chin. "Especially in the summer. They can do a marvellous job at cooling you down. Much more efficient than a cooling charm, since you don't have to constantly renew the charm. Wet blankets are very good at staying wet."

I didn't understand a word of that. Still, I told her. "Thanks, Pan." Pandora lifted one of her shoulders. I turned to Sirius and quirked my eyebrow at him. "Now, if the imp blood in you is satisfied with your bout of mischief, I would like to have her back, thank you very much."

"Only if you say please."

"I wouldn't beg you for my own life, Sirius Black."

Sirius laughed like it was startled out of him. He turned to Pandora and gasped. "Can you believe her? Bloody proud. Where's that going to get you?"

"Far." Said Pandora. "Very far indeed."

I smiled at her. I felt like I was always smiling at Pandora. And when she smiled back, I felt as though she, too, was always smiling at me. It was all very confusing. I'd never had anyone smile at me like she did and I knew for certain that I've done nothing to deserve it. I didn't know what I'm supposed to do with her well-meaning and misplaced affection.

So I did nothing.

"I'm going to find Cissy. She'll appreciate me, if she isn't hanging out with that sodding boyfriend of hers." Sirius grandly decided, stepping between me and Pandora as to draw our eyes to him. He winked at Pandora, who grinned at him, and then stuck his tongue out at me. I pinched his nose with my forefinger and thumb. That got his tongue back in his mouth quickly enough.

"That 'sodding boyfriend of hers' is my cousin, Mr Black." Pandora huffed. Sirius and I were almost too preoccupied with smacking each other to hear her. "I'm the only one who's allowed to call him a sod. You, however, can call him by any other name that you think of. No doubt he's done something to deserve it."

"You're alright with me calling your cousin a git?"

"You'd be alright with me calling your cousin a git, wouldn't you?"

"Honestly, I think you could stand to do it more often. Cal could use it."

"Don't call me that." I rolled my eyes and pushed lightly at his back. "Dear Merlin, would you just leave already? You're not wanted here."

"Then I'll find somewhere I am wanted!"

"Yeah, right. Good luck with that." I snorted. Sirius frowned at me and tugged on my hair, harshly and painfully. My face set into a scowl quicker than a car crash. I whacked his hand away and hissed. "What the bloody hell was that for!?"

"Git." He said simply. He turned to Pandora. "No doubt, I'll be seeing you around. Don't forget that you can always do better than her."

Pandora smirked and said. "Why would I want to?" Something strange flashed through Sirius' face as he looked between me and Pandora. I had almost pinned down the emotion when he'd went and cleared his face up. He poked his tongue out at me again, danced out of my reach, and disappeared into the crowd. I huffed, watching him disappear, playing with the lock of hair he'd gone and yanked.

Pandora turned to me and levelled her gaze at me. "You should be nicer to him." She told me without waiting another moment. Straight for the throat. As usual. "Your cousin is a nice bloke. Better than what usually crawls out of the basements of your family."

I was instantly offended by the insult, though I knew it was true. I roped in that instinctual anger and sighed, turning away. I couldn't face Pandora's disappointment. For a dead girl, she—no no no, don't go there, don't go there. "Probably. I mean—no, no, I know. He's good people. I could stand to be nicer to him."

"Then why the bloody hell aren't you?"

I knew the answer to that. "I don't know, Pan… can we just… move on?" But I wasn't ready for Pan to know as well. "It's… I'm tired. I don't want to be here."

Pandora's eyes softened. She reached out and placed her hand on my shoulder. Only for a second. Barely long enough for me to tense up, She reclaimed her hand and walked closer so that her arm could be entwined with mine. "Of course. We'll talk about it later though, okay? Sirius is super nice. I don't like to see you lash out at him. It…" She hesitated.

I finished for her. "It reminds you of what family I belong to, doesn't it?" Pandora winced and didn't deny it. She just started walking. I let her lead me. "I'll do better, Pan."

"Will you?" There was a cautious hope to her voice. Pandora was good people too: more than Sirius and I could ever hope to be. Naturally, she hoped for her friends to be just as good as her. It was kind of weird how much I didn't want to disappoint her. I wasn't used to it. I wasn't used to wanting approval. Unbidden, a thought rises: you're going to die, Pandora Travers.

I beat it down.

Pandora was still talking. "I'm sure that would make things a lot easier for the both of you."

"Yeah, Pan." I muttered, nodding. Trying to ignore how much of a promise this felt like. "I'll be better."

A line of tension in her shoulders disappeared. She breathed, "Good," and then didn't say anything more.

The rest of the night was spent in comfortable, warm silence.

...

I'll realize later while I'm reading a book on blood magic from the library; what that expression on his face was.

I'll remember the unreadable look, and I'll spend half an hour deciphering it, and when I finally know, I'll close the book and heave a deep, painful sigh. For a strange second, my heart will hurt for him: My least favourite cousin, the loneliest, the heartiest, the one who always feels too damn much. He doesn't love any of us, but I know that we don't deserve something as treasured as Sirius Black's loyalty, so I can't bring myself to feel too bitter.

It's no wonder, I think, that he looks between Pandora and I with… not envy. Deeper than that. More like… longing. Yearning.

I know he will find a place where he belongs, a place where he is wanted. He will find his James Potter and his Remus Lupin and he will tear the world apart for them. That's his type of love. I remembered that I always admired that part of Sirius — back when he was a character. He didn't love James or Remus any less than each other; just differently. I never much understood how that could be until I grew up with the guy. I think I know now. He has so much love to give and no one deserving to give it to.

Hogwarts is fast approaching. I tell myself to stop fretting: Sirius may not love me or particularly trust me, but we are kindred spirits. He looks at me whenever his mother starts on a tirade about muggle-born's and reads my quiet disapproval like I'm a book written only in a language he understands. We have been united on this lately. In him distancing himself from the family and its ideals, he has opened his mind to his surroundings: to me.

He may not love me, but he trusts that I am a better person than our family, even if it's not by much.

In the years to come, I'll have to trust that that will be enough. I already have too much on my plate to overly concern myself with him. As I said, Hogwarts is approaching, and with Hogwarts comes the assembling of the Marauders. Sirius will get the family he deserves.

In the meantime, I will deal with the family we currently have. Appropriately. As they deserve. Not with the corrupt system or self-righteous justice, but the way the deserve to be dealt with.

(Peace, I tell myself, setting open the book on my lap. Be patient. Persevere. They will get what is coming to them.)

I finish my book in the candlelight. Narcissa finds me in the morning, curled into a ball on the armchair, and tucks a blanket around me. "Sleep, little sister." She'll murmur—thought you won't ever hear her admit it—and there will be a strange, uncharacteristic frown on her face. "Rest. You will need it."

...

"Rule the first. Survive. Rule the second. Grow strong. Rule the third. Live."

...

Authors Note:

Anyway, Hogwarts next chapter! Marauders next chapter! All sorts of new characters next chapter! I'll have to start foreshadowing… unless I already have been. I can't even remember. We'll find out by the end of the story I suppose. In the meantime, I've figured out a pairing for the story. Feel free to start guessing.

Also for all those who theorized actual murder for Callidora's Herbology fascination: wow. There is an impressive amount of you. Really, what would Callidora say.