Okay. OKAY! I'M SO SORRY! (sniff) my computer died and I'm moving, so it's busy...

Foreboding

December the twenty-first.

I can't believe I forgot tomorrow was December the twenty-first.

Regulus sat there on the other side of the table, cleverly smirking into his food. He probably knew the entire time that I was forgetting father's birthday. I glanced down at my dish of finely grilled salmon with a side of salad and frowned slightly. It was upsetting to me, also. As far as it went father was my preferred parent. He didn't talk nearly as much as mother, let alone yell.

My distress at this moment was caused by a regular dinner conversation of the Christmas parties Regulus and I were supposed to attend with them over our vacation from school. They weren't really any bother, unless of course you had a problem with others seeing you as a sort of reflection of your parents. Which meant Regulus and I had to be on our best behaviour. If we weren't…

Never mind – back to the subject at hand, mother and Regulus had been talking about these parties and had mentioned going to one tomorrow at the Lestrange Estate, as Rodolphus was obviously making an effort to get praise from his relatives-to-be. Cousin Bellatrix, from the brief instances that I've seen of her, is quite smug for this reason. Regulus had then looked over at father, sitting at the head of the table.

"So, how many years will it be, father?" is what he'd said.

I'd frozen. Father had carefully set down in fork in lieu of taking up his gold, jewel-encrusted goblet and said in his brisk tone, "Forty-five."

And thus it had dawned on me that I had completely forgotten father's birthday.

I glanced quickly at mother, wondering if she would disembowel me if I came to my own father's party without a gift. Regulus – sadistic git – was still smirking slightly down at his mashed potatoes. I bet he guided this whole conversation along just to horrify me.

"Ivarius, stop that expression."

"Yes, mother."

Regulus lifted his head and smiled openly at me. "Oh, Ivy," he said in his fakest, most irritating voice of cheer. "Aren't you so excited?"

Git.

Upstairs, I stalked up to Regulus' room and knocked on his door.

"Who's there?" a voice asked from inside, nearly cackling from glee.

"Shut up you git and let me in."

"Temper, temper," Regulus opened his door and I walked into his elaborately decorated room, frowning. "You've been waspish ever since holidays started."

He doesn't need to know why. I'm not about to explain. GIT. "I need you to get me a gift for father."

"Really," Regulus drawled, wandering over to his bed. "Do you mean to tell me you – Merlin forbid – forgot father's birthday?"

"You're turning into Severus," I told him, knowing he didn't want to hear it. "Just go and get him the Book of Black Magic by Whitmore Dunshed in Knockturn-,"

Regulus reclined on his pillows, pushing stray black hair from his eyes. I wondered briefly, amused, how many girls have fallen in love with his 'gorgeous eyes'. "Scurry off and get it yourself, mouse."

I stiffened. "Mother hates it when I-,"

"-go out after dark?" Regulus stared at me with an expression that told me I was like a fly that kept buzzing around his head. "You're a Death Eater now. There's no threat anymore – you are the threat."

Ah. So now I'm one of those prowlers that all parents usher their children away from. They think I'm just going to out and blast every thing in sight just because it's dark out, do they? Pleasant.

No, I had other reasons for not wanting to go out. It was Christmas. Didn't matter what time it was – Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley would be packed full of witches and warlocks making last minute purchases. I shudder at the thought of even trying to get through…they'd eat me alive.

I turned on my heel. "I'll owl Severus," I told him curtly. If he wasn't going to do it –

Regulus made a sharp, irritated noise behind me. "Damn, Ivy, when are you going to learn?" he demanded in impatience. I stopped in surprise and looked back at him. "Can't you do anything for yourself?"

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Is that your best insult?" I muttered before walking out the door.

Stupid brother. He was right. And now in hindsight I realise just how right he really is – I've been snapping at him ever since we left for the Hogwarts Express. Why am I being so moody?

Maybe it's because of the talk Remus and I had. After he'd told me I wasn't alone, almost desperately confided in me that I wasn't alone…I hadn't known what to do. Eventually, after hours of silence, Remus asked quietly if I was tired and after that it seemed we both were walking out the door, my interest not even held by it as it disappeared. We parted ways with a faint, half-hearted 'goodnight' and that was that.

But what's more? Sirius had been wandering in the dungeons, and it was Regulus that had happened upon him.

They were duelling, and I had to yell and scream and threaten and James had to come running and I had to hold back Regulus, who was angry and rushed with the adrenaline of a fight and both of them nearly pummelled James and I to get back at each other, if only to scrap. And then, when they finally went to just throwing terrible, personal insults at each other Sirius wouldn't leave. In fact, he refused to leave until I heard him out and he said that I could be mad at him but he was not sorry, nor would he ever be. Well, that of course got Regulus suspicious as to what was going on and I had to verbally bear down on Sirius to the point where I thought Sirius might've been actually, even slightly hurt by what horrid things I'd hit him with. It was difficult, it was very difficult, to say those things to Sirius, who above being my eldest sibling and above being very, very intimidating was the one that cared about me, however shallow that care is. Even James, who had quite the mouth himself, was running his hand anxiously through his hair and trying to drag Sirius away from the situation, which was just terrible on all sides.

I eventually demanded that he get out of my sight or so help me I would tell father he was harassing me. And getting father involved, in Sirius' case, inevitably meant one thing. Death.

Those – those two – idiots that think they have to kill each other every time a teacher's not in sight – why do they have to hate each other so much in the first bloody place?

"I'm going for a walk, mother," I said whilst opening the door.

"If you must," was the reply that came from the living room.

It was cold outside. Luckily I had taking my cloak from its hanger on my way out. I pulled it around my shoulders and released a short sigh.

'Can't you do anything for yourself?'

No. No, I couldn't. Isn't that apparent by now? Didn't he see, after living with me for sixteen years, that I depend on others to survive? I'm trying, doesn't he know that? Why does he have to keep reminding me of my flaws? My bloody imperfections – how gullible I am, how trusting, how spineless.

Why is Sirius bothering with me still? He sees these flaws, too…

Well. He won't bother with me anymore, I know that. Not after those things I said to him, what I called him. I guess, this way, staying away from him should be much easier.

Knockturn Alley was swarming, as predicted.

I squeezed past people left and right, trying to get my bearings. Some the store signs I couldn't even see because of some many tall people obscuring my view. Still, I was able to reach the door of Hogglesburn Books and push open the door, apologising when it hit someone in the process.

The book I wanted to get my father was on the second floor, and I doubted it would be sold already because it was one of those hidden jewels you find among the rubbage of the shelves, between some theories of werewolves to Three Thousand Uses for a Toadstool. In fact, the aisle I went down to retrieve the book – which I had found at an earlier visit – was virtually empty.

I say virtually empty because there was a tall, slim boy with rusty blonde hair and brown eyes scanning through the shelves. I recognised him as one of the prefects – West Snively, or something to that affect – from the Slytherin house. Well…obviously from the Slytherin house. Otherwise I doubt he would be in Knockturn Alley.

I slid past him with a brief 'excuse me' and went to the end of the aisle. There, almost instantly my eyes were set upon the book in question and I plucked it from its place quite triumphantly, feeling a little of the weight lift from my shoulders.

After again squeezing past Snively, I went back downstairs and tried to find some semblance of a line to take my place in. The wait was torture. I was so tired at the time I was nearly sleeping on my feet and once I almost dropped my prize due to fatigue. Finally – finally – I was in front of the register.

"Twenty galleons," a very frazzled-looking woman told me, her tone winded. I handed her the money and stuck a Sugar Quill in my mouth. "Thank you, Happy Christmas – and try not to chew those too often," the lady added in an undertone, nodding to my Quill. She must've thought it was real. "I hear the ink remnants on those things make you terrible in bed."

I can't believe a complete stranger just said that to me.

I stared at her, slightly mortified for a few moments until I was pushed aside by a waiting customer. Trying hard to shake the shock from my mind I went back out the door and pushed through the streets, back into Diagon Alley. I've had enough of this; I'll just use the Floo Network.

I went into the bookstore of Diagon Alley – whose name escapes me, since I never really come in here – and walked to the back of the store where the fireplace was. No one was really thinking enough to use it. I just walked up, grabbed a pinch of Floo powder and stepped into the heath.

"Black Manor!"

Don't bother me about the title. What's done is done.

Moments later I found myself in my own home, hiding the book under my cloak and brushing soot off my shoulders before I stepped out onto the nice, plush green rug. The living room was empty; I assumed Mum and Father had gone up to bed.

I was just removing my heavy, fur-lined cloak when the fire roared to life behind me. I jumped in surprise. Who was visiting at this hour?

"It worked," said a surprised voice behind me. I turned.

James Potter blinked back at me, grinning. "Nice living room, Black."

Merlin forbid.

"Are you mad?" I demanded as he stepped out, brushing off his cloak as though he owned this house. "What – do you have any idea – let go of me!"

"What?" James as innocently as he pushed me into the hearth. "It's not like anyone's awake at this hour-,"

"I could yell," I threatened, still terribly alarmed there was a Gryffindor standing in the living room of the Blacks. Wait – what if Kreacher came about and – "Regulus would kill you-,"

"The Potter Household!"

Never mind Regulus, I'll kill him. He sent me through the Floo Network at a nauseating speed, and I was still so disoriented from Potter showing up in my fireplace that as soon as I came out of the Floo Network, I fell out of the hearth.

I sat up quickly. "Git," I hissed, pulling out my wand. I glared at the fireplace. Just wait, you deranged warlock, I'm going to mar that smirking face of yours.

"Ivy?" another familiar voice said behind me. I turned. Lily was sitting on the chesterfield, looking quite surprised. Suddenly her eyes fluttered towards the hearth as James stepped out, looking quite self-satisfied. She stood up, looking flabbergasted. "You didn't."

James deflected the hex I sent at him offhandedly. "I did," he replied proudly.

I don't have to bear through this. I moved towards the fireplace – James blocked my path.

"Sorry," he mentioned brightly. "You're not going anywhere."

"What do you want?" I demanded in frustration. "Where am I?"

"My house," he shrugged. "Wand, please."

"I'm not going to just-,"

"Oh, James," an older woman walked in, carrying a tray of hot chocolates. She looked surprised at me but then smiled. "Is this another friend of yours?"

"This is Sirius' sister, Mum," James said. "She won't be any trouble." He glanced at me pointedly. "Will you?"

Mrs Potter had a very kindly look about her. I didn't know parents could actually be that nice. It was different and bizarre to me; all the mothers and fathers I knew were detached and frosty. In the face of this maternal feeling, I found myself letting go of my wand. James stuck it in his pocket.

"I see the resemblance," Mrs Potter told me. "Well, make yourself at home. Should I tell Sirius you're here?"

"…Sirius?" I mumbled, confused. Why would Sirius be here?

"Thanks," James nodded to Mrs Potter. Mrs Potter retreated back through the door she had come.

I looked around for the first time. It was a large living room we stood in, fireplace blazing. There was a cozy feel about the fuzzy couches, the coffee tables, and the many moving pictures that sat on the walls. A bright chandelier hung from the ceiling, the only hint of what could be quite a large fortune.

"You don't know, do you?" Lily began slowly. James took a seat next to her on the couch.

My eyes turned to her. I felt alienated; a black mark in this house of warmth and…love. I felt now more than ever the rift between myself, a Death Eater, and people who had never come face to face with the Dark Lord, with his voice and his soul-stealing Cause.

Lily, looking at her boyfriend briefly, pushed a lock of her long red hair behind her ear and folded her hands in her lap.

"Sirius lives here now."

I'd wondered where he lived. I always thought it was with our Uncle – the nicer one. Here was a good place, too. At least I knew where he was.

"When can I leave?" I asked, feeling tired. And I had to go to the Lestrange's tomorrow, too…

James made a show of taking my wand out and tossing it from one hand to the other, reminding me that I couldn't leave without it. "After you chat with Sirius."

"That's not going to happen."

James raised his eyebrows. "Well, then, you can sleep on the couch. You're not leaving until you do."

The Marauders have stolen my wand one too many times for this to be anything unexpected. Still, I was not and had not been in the mood to jest for four days now.

"I fail to see how you're going to keep me here. Ollivander's is filled to the brim with other wands."

"See," James reclined next to Lily. "I think you don't want to leave. I think you know you have to talk to Padfoot and I think you're actually happy I brought you here."

This is a waste of time. I began to remember why I disliked him before we were acquainted. "You insect." I frowned at him, abruptly frustrated with his stupid ideas. "Nothing happens that easily, this isn't preschool. I do want to leave, I don't want to talk to Sirius, and I am not happy you brought me here. My father can contact the Floo Network Headquarters and have me found in a number of seconds if he were to know I'm here. And do you know what he'd do to me? To Sirius? Do you know what our mother would do? She wouldn't bloody make us hot chocolates, that's for sure."

James was unabashed. He scratched his neck. "Scared of getting grounded, Black?"

"Our family works differently from yours. I think you're smart enough to understand that, if nothing else. And Sirius doesn't-,"

"Sirius doesn't need others speaking for him," a familiar voice said. I turned around and found my brother walking towards us. He leant on the arm of the loveseat next to me and folded his own arms across his chest. He had an unreadable expression. "What's in your head to bring her here, Prongs?"

But Lily and James were already getting up. "I think I hear mother calling," he said lightly. "See you."

And he went out the door. With my wand.

'Accio wand. Accio wand. Accio, damn it, you bloody useless piece of wood.'

I sat down on the loveseat Sirius leant against his back was to me. I could see snow falling outside in the dark of night, and wished I was home sleeping.

I won't apologise for the things I said to him that day. He shouldn't have brought it up in front of Regulus. It's his own fault. It's his own fault.

"Nothing to say?" he muttered finally.

"Sod off."

"Merlin, why do you keep snapping at me?" Sirius demanded, dark eyes burning as he finally looked towards me. "How angry can you possibly get over-,"

"I'm not angry. Leave me alone."

"You're in my living room!"

"Tell your friend to give me back my wand!"

"Maybe you should stop falling for the same trick!" he stopped up with a jerk, as though his feet were controlling his actions, and he paced up and down in front of me. "You're gullible, Ivy! That's why I worry about you because your so bloody trusting-,"

"And this somehow gives you the right to go beating up Regulus in the dungeons," I hissed.

"He's fucking infuriating," Sirius snapped back.

"He's your brother-,"

"Did you come here to talk about him?" he seethed. "I won't hear of it. You can get out if all you're going to do is defend darling old Regulus."

I suddenly saw my father in Sirius. I felt as though he was talking down to me, as though he was right and I was in the wrong. This bothered me. I didn't come here willingly, if he doesn't remember, I don't have my wand, it is five minutes past midnight and the last thing I want to do is have to apologise for my actions when quite obviously he won't apologise for being manipulative and under-handed.

And now he's bad-mouthing my brother.

"I love him," I said quietly.

"Merlin knows why," Sirius muttered. He turned away from me and took to pacing again.

I felt frustrated with his stubborn perception of Regulus. Let it slide, I thought. It was off-topic. This was strange for me. I wasn't this argumentive, I wasn't this brash…stay calm. Calm down.

"You lied to me," I said slowly, tersely.

"It was making you happy," he retorted.

"Mum was right about you," I put a hand to my forehead, feeling overwhelmed by the situation. "Where do you get off doing this to me, Sirius?"

And there went my desires to not blame him. Not-blaming Remus was much easier, because at least he knew he was doing something wrong.

"You're talking as though I cut off your left leg," Sirius complained.

I knew, I knew there was no way we could resolve this. Neither of us would apologise for our respective mistakes. It was ticking me off.

"I'm not a toy," I said. "You can't toss me around to your heart's desire as though – as though – I'd never have you pour out your soul to someone's who's only there because I begged them to be!"

My voice had gone strangely high-pitched. I wondered if I was truly that upset. My decision to be calm was disintegrating.

"You can't…you can't…I-I can't…" I was talking nonsense now. "I can't…handle one more thing on top of this Death Eater business….you know…you know I want you to stay away from me…"

Incoherent, I thought I was. I was so, so tired. I hated admitting out loud that I wasn't good enough to take on all of this, all this arguing and betrayal and force on top of my role as a Death Eater. It made it final – it was out there now, he knew, I couldn't take it back.

Sirius was looking at me in an odd way. I sat back down on the couch, trying to gather my wits because somewhere in this conversation my common sense had disappeared. For some reason, I am alarmed to say, I suddenly wanted Remus close by. What am I thinking?

"I'm not disappearing."

Sirius' voice dragged me from my thoughts and I looked at him – my wand was floating through the air to his open palm. "I'm not going to leave you alone, and neither is Moony. You can push us aside all you like but the more you do, the more I'm going to lie and manipulate."

My brother yanked me off the couch, threw some Floo powder in the fire, and glared at me. "I'm sick of being ignored so stop it. You can fake all you like but nothing you yell at me in the dungeons is going to make a bloody difference so get over it!"

He nudged me slightly against the heath. The foul expression had returned a little to his face.

"Five days," he said. "Come here in five days. Midnight. If you're the sister I grew up with," and here he used a guilt card, more or less, "You'll give up this stubborn nonsense and do it."

He then shoved me in the fireplace. "Black Manor!"

Even as I landed back in my warm, silent house, wand shoved in my hands, I suddenly felt something heavy pushing on my shoulders. And I was terrified of this feeling, this warning…

…that the worst of my stay at home was….yet to come.

I hate being right.

I have decided that Rodolphus Lestrange is not a very nice man. At all. And I would much rather be putting up with Kreacher at home than sitting here, straight-backed in my chair, politely accepting comments and salutations from my many, many relatives. We – that is, mother, father and I, since Regulus sits at a different table as he is 'branching out' from under our father and getting more experience (apparently) to ready himself to be the head of the Black family – are all placed at the same table, though Mum was asked a while ago for a dance from Gavin Finch, one of my distant cousins twice-removed and since then she's been chattering about with other women; Mrs Goyle, Narcissa, and so on.

Dancing isn't really a matter of who dances with who, or who dances well, for that matter. Its just one of those things to test just how faithful you are to your pureblood family, your cult, your brethren. A requirement, I'd suppose. Although Narcissa once told me it was simply 'to be polite'.

Rubbish.

I realised that father was gone from his chair and noticed him speaking amongst some other men at another table, cigar in his mouth and already well-immersed in conversation. Apparently his silence only held firm in the face of his own family. Not that I was particularly bothered by this fact; while I did say he was my preferred parent, the truth is we aren't very close. There's always been the feeling of a chasm between our generations.

I watched, feeling myself drift into boredom, as my family members strut past, chattering amongst each other. Now this – this is something I can see as a constant in my life. I am always going to sit and blend with the background, which is fine by me since I really can't think of how awkward a conversation would be between myself and one of my older, prouder, more extravagant cousins.

Except I now have nothing to do for…

I glanced towards the large grandfather clock on my right.

…six hours.

"Here," I called over one House Elf with my finger. She was carrying a tray of potato skins. I took one and set it on my plate, not minding the creature as she hurried off to wait on someone else.

A flash of white-blonde hair caught my eye. I saw Lucius on the far side of the room, speaking stoically with a just-as-blank Rosier. I was reminded of my thoughts about the last remaining Malfoy, and how Narcissa might be manipulating him. I wasn't sure what could be done about that – Narcissa was frightening in that she has very…passionate ways of expressing herself. Dramatic might be a good way to describe it. Things are always at the very best or very worst for her; I can't remember seeing her nonchalant over anything.

And then of course there was the problem of Lucius himself who now hated me with a passion. I couldn't see myself getting very far past that. In fact, I could see it happening now; I open my mouth, and he curses me. End of cycle. To ice the cake, Lucius was speaking with Rosier, who seems to have become the object of my fear. He's just…disconcerting.

Have I mentioned how bored I am?

Oh. Alright then.

An hour passed, in which I managed to make my potato skin last exactly twenty five minutes by taking the most miniscule bites possible out of it.

"There you are, Ivy," I heard my mother's voice say. I watched her walk up to my table. I wondered if she'd been drinking; I was sitting at the exact same table that she and father were supposed to be sitting at. Mum motioned to the two people standing next to her. "You remember Aunt Alice and her son, Morgan?"

Aunt Alice was much, much younger than Mum. She was closer to my age, in fact. She was a beautiful as any of the Blacks, and had just as dark hair. Her eyes were a bright, dazzling shade of green and she was very tall. Next to her stood cousin…Morgan. I didn't recognise him at first, he looked so different from the last time I saw him. He was an adopted son of Aunt Alice's – pureblood, obviously – but much more hazel-skinned in comparison to the ghostly pale of my other relatives. His hair was a very rich chocolate colour and his eyes were hazel.

Well. Last time I saw him he was just a scrawny eleven year-old with a deep, burning desire to make my life as miserable as humanely possible before Sirius caught him. Now he was Regulus' age, and – even compared to the others – very handsome.

That's painfully unfair.

I stood up in the name of courtesy. "Hello," I said. "It's a pleasure to see you again, Auntie, Cousin."

"Hello, Ivarius," Aunt Alice replied in that soft voice of hers. "You've certainly grown since we met last. And how is your time at Hogwarts treating you?"

"Ivarius is getting top grades in all of her studies, of course," Mum answered for me in that sickeningly sweet way that was never used in our own house.

"Of course," Aunt Alice laughed gently, clearly. "Morgan is doing finely in Durmstrang, I'm proud to say. In any case, I do believe I should go wish Angus a happy birthday. Are you coming, sister?"

"I think I will," Mum conceded. "Ivarius, entertain your cousin."

Adults.

I sat down with a deep sigh as they walked off. Morgan sat in father's chair across from me.

"You look like you're having fun," he commented.

"Mm." I looked at him, trying to find hints of the little boy I'd last seen. He smirked.

"Times have changed since we saw each other last," Morgan said as he retrieved a goblet of firewhisky from the tray of a passing house elf. I do love people who point out the obvious.

"Yes," I answered.

"I see big bad Sirius has been pushed out of the picture," Morgan glanced sidelong at me.

"You're quite the conversationalist," I stated.

"You're quite the anti-socialist," was his retaliation.

"I have the feeling you didn't come all the way from Durmstrang to chastise me on my lack of conversation," I frowned at him, watching him drink slowly from the mug and knowing he was underage.

He shrugged. "Are you thirsty?"

I stared at his steaming glass. "No."

He was smirking again. I sat and averted my gaze to the others chattering at various, circular tables. Lucius and Rosier had disappeared.

Hesitantly my thoughts drifted back to Sirius. Five days from yesterday was Christmas. I had no idea what I should do – whether I should go…see him, and talk to him, like I might want to, or stay away like I should be. He was nearly forcing me to acknowledge him, to see him and not ignore him and it made me anxious, because I knew deep down that Death Eaters were everywhere and hiding under some of the kindest faces. Sirius was a brilliant wizard, I knew, but – what if he was outnumbered? And what would I do in that situation?

Where was the line, I wondered. In what situation would it matter more to stand by my brother than stay alive under the Dark Lord's command? Would that situation ever arise?

I hope not. I hope not. Some people are courageous. People like to think that they could be saviours, be heroes, and sacrifice themselves in the name of others. I don't think I could. I think I would be terrified. It makes me feel cowardly to think that I really, probably couldn't save someone else's life.

"Don't cry."

I blinked. Ah. Right. Morgan's across from me. "Pardon?" I asked, wondering what he meant.

Morgan was frowning at me, rolling the goblet between his fingers. "The last thing anyone here wants," he murmured coolly, eyes strangely blank, "Is the nuisance of your own self-pity."

I wondered how hard I could kick him. It'd probably hurt most on the shin. He'd rat on me, however, spineless little toad.

"Why are you still here?" I asked dully. I thought he might've gotten bored with me by now.

The smirk returned. "I'm transferring to Hogwarts," he said amusedly. "Know why?"

"They kicked you out of that frozen Azkaban-,"

"Your father wanted it, Ivy," Morgan's voice rode over mine completely. "You see, certain individuals have made it clear that they don't think you're quite…up to par."

"Are you still talking?" I sighed, setting my chin in my palm. The last thing he would know is that I was slightly scared of him. "What does this have to do with you?"

"Cousin," he sighed and shook his head, as if saying, 'Oh Ivy, you're so naïve.' "Its been decided that you should be brought up to the calibre of the family name. They kindly asked me to whip you into shape."

Now I was worried. This could imply many things, bad things, and hazards for myself and my private friends.

"In other words," Here Morgan smiled and touched my hand across the table, as though to assure me that he was going to take care of everything. He smiled the kindest, most sincere smile.

"I'm going to make you scream for death, Ivarius Black."

the line-thingy works again! w !! woot!