Author's note: The disclaimer still holds valid. Please refer to the first chapter for my lack of liability for copyright material.
1976
There was only one person who looked sourly out the window from her seat in the library towards the middle of June. The sun was shining, the sparrows chirping, the Giant Squid was splashing, and Fern was sulking. Some students, like her, were finished with their exams and were celebrating their free time outside or in the Great Hall with their friends. Fern rolled her eyes back and massaged her temple with her fingers as she heard the laughter of the carefree Gryffindor girls outside.
"Oh! Sorry!" Interrupted her sulking. Then, "Ah, it's just you," Fern's eyes snapped open to see the tallest boy she'd ever seen in her life. She eyed his turban which was a brilliant dark hue of blue. The kind of blue that everyone has witnessed once in their life when they look up at the night sky and are able to peer into forever.
"Didn't know you were so House spirited," Fern chuckled at him as she sat up a little straighter.
Sukhwinder "Sukhi" Gill had always sported a black colored turban as long as he could help it. Whenever he was asked why he didn't don any other colors, like the one other girl who wore a hijab , Sukhi joked that he didn't dare compete with her beauty. In fact, his turban was charmed so that other students couldn't change it colors for their idea of a joke. His ability to be so care-free and amicable made him the Ravenclaw sweetheart in no time. It was a wonder he wasn't placed in Hufflepuff, except that he excelled in every single NEWT known to wizard.
"My last day as a Ravenclaw, why not," Sukhi grinned and shrugged, leaning against one of the bookcases. He had the ability of looking so well put together that his uniform always looked as if they were stitched that morning. His collar crisp and sweater starched.
The lighting in the library illuminated his chiseled jaw and shaded his dark brown eyes through his thick lashes.
"How'd your exams go? You accept that Ministry offer yet?" Fern asked him kindly. He sighed and looked a bit pained to answer while he shifted from one leg to the other.
"Yeah, I did," he said almost ashamedly staring at the book in his hands. Sukhwinder had the grades and recommendations to land him a high paying position in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement but instead he was given a measly offer of pushing papers in the Department of Magical Accidents.
"Bloody racists," he muttered, his posh London accent marked with bitterness, finally taking a seat next to Fern. He looked at the girl with sorrow. "It's only going to get worse, Khan," he predicted in dismay, shaking his head at the near distant future. Fern thought he looked one hundred years old in that moment. She was frightened but scraped by a smile.
"Well I've nothing to worry about as long as you're in there, eh? You'll manage Sukh," she patted his arm. He looked at her indecipherably before a clever little smile started to grow.
"You know we would've made a right match if you had just said yes," Sukhi tried to hide his shit-eating-grin but looked like he didn't really care.
"You're absolutely right," Fern's voice was laced with sweet sarcasm. "Who knows? Maybe we would've gone out. Maybe we'd get married. And maybe after our two children are going to the very school we met at, maybe then you'd come out of the closet!" Fern slapped her hands on her cheeks. "A girl could only dream!"
Sukhi scrunched his face up the way he did when he laughed a good laugh. "Our kids would've looked damn cute though," he said through his laughter. Fern joined him.
"Yeah, eh?" she scrunched up her nose as well to entertain the thought. Sukhi smiled at her for a few moments longer and with a self-affirming nod, he stood up.
"Take care of yourself, Khan. Write to me," he said point his book at her demandingly. She watched him walk away as if he were walking out of her life.
For some reason, Fern expected some sort of feeling to resonate within her. Sorrow or maybe nostalgia. Or perhaps something akin to what she felt when she had to part with Sirius. But oddly enough, she felt nothing. She found a small amount of peace in this. Perhaps it would be this easy when she'd really have to say goodbye.
She looked back out the window a little less sour than she had before. She tried to harness that feeling as she packed up her second to last year at Hogwarts for the summer. She clawed onto the feeling of nothing as she watched the scenic Highlands blur into greens and yellows outside the cabins of the Hogwarts' Express.
She even tried to submerge herself into that feeling of nothingness when Abithica's parents were murdered by newly initiated Death Eaters that summer.
It was some cruel mistake by the heavens that the clouds parted and brought rays of sunshine upon everyone attending the funeral. It was as if somebody was laughing at them, yet nobody was accountable. The ministry had sent officials to pay their respects though they looked unmoved by just another death. Or perhaps the pain of attending another service was burned out of them by the spoils of the War long ago. Dumbledore along with Professor McGonagall and Professor Sprout attended the funeral with heavy solemnity. But Abithica saw no one. She only saw the graves of her two sole guardians being erected in front of her through magic. She heard nobody's condolences. She only heard sounds vaguely akin to words being spoken above the water that she was drowning in. She felt nothing. Yet she knew that Fern was holding her hand the entire time.
When Remus had beheld the tragedy via the Daily Prophet, he spilt his scalding tea on himself as he stood in staggered shock. He immediately owled Sirius and there wasn't a doubt in either minds that they would attend the funeral. And so the two teenagers-borderline-men stood at the outer ring of the congregation with the other non familial sympathizers, not truly feeling like they were even there. And as if a clear path was made just for him, Sirius had a straight line of sight to Abithica.
He would forever note that moment as the gravity of the the First Wizarding War hitting him. He had never lost someone to the War thus far nor attended a funeral for a victim to the War before. And so his attendance that day smacked him with a fat and sharp belt of the reality. Staring at an otherwise so lively and emotive girl's shell, standing as if her own soul was seeping out from beneath her and into the grave where her parents lay and there was nothing she could do about it. She was so beautiful and broken that Sirius had to look away for a moment, overcome with the idea that she lost her loved ones. What had Abithica's parents done wrong, he wanted to ask naively. When he looked back up, perhaps hoping to see answers, he couldn't believe he didn't process Fern standing dutifully beside her. Though who else would be?
It was the first time seeing her after months.
And she looked. . . Godric, did she look. . . well, she looked like Fern. Except she wasn't Fern. She was Frances at that moment. Hair tied up and bundled in black, a woman who was looking at death in the eyes with a jaded expression. Not to be mistaken that she wasn't as somber as Abithica's closest family. However, the funeral guests almost held a look of fear muddled with their sorrow. A fear that they too would meet their end, one day. And this horrid occasion a cruel reminder of their mortality. But not Fern. Fern looked as if she was scorning death, upset that it had chosen these people unjustly. But by Merlin, Sirius could not keep his eyes off her.
The slip of his gaze made him register that now suddenly Abithica was staring straight at him through the curtain crack of surrounding people. How long had she been staring at him with her glassy eyes, he didn't know. Though the blonde's cheeks were illuminating with streaks, she wasn't shedding any more tears as she stared right at Sirius transcending stoicism and reaching revelation. The boy's lips parted as if he could whisper a word of comfort and it would carry to her ears and give her solace. But nothing came. The silent ceremony was interrupted by a fit of coughs that was all too familiar to Sirius and Remus. Abithica, broken from her reverie for the first time all day, turned to Fern, as if it were muscle memory, to tend to her friend. Fern gave her a scolding smile and touched her forehead to her best mate's. Sirius swallowed.
"Let's get you a pint," Remus rested his hand on his best mate's shoulder. Sirius covered Remus's hand with his own and looked at him, hoping he could convey his gratitude with just a sullen look. The two found a wizarding pub in Godric's Hollow where James had joined them when he received an wizarding telegraph summoning them.
"I'm really sorry mate," James clapped Sirius on the back in the most compassionate manner he could muster.
"Why," Sirius muttered whilst bent over his mead. "I didn't lose anybody," he tried to look unbothered but James knew that his sulky manner wasn't just for show today.
"Yeah," James agreed slowly and continued in a thoughtful manner. "But your friend is hurting. And that's hurting you too," he said as if the logic was so simple. Sirius was silently struck by his best friend's words of kindness but tried not to appear too emotional. So he settled on an appreciative smile.
"I saw the obituary in the Prophet," James mentioned. "Awful business, that. Poor girl. She was the one who went mental in the Great Hall that time, right?"
Remus raised his eyebrows. And not just because of James' tact. Why yes, how could he forget. Abithica was the girl who had the breakdown. And it was assumed that she had lost someone that day too.
"Who'd she lose Sirius?" Remus asked, but was surprised to see the aforementioned with threaded brows.
"I dunno, actually," he looked up with a hazy look, clearly trying to delve back into the past. He remembered Fern sitting calmly as she had expected such a reaction. She didn't even comfort Abithica, for that matter, but just sat there. That was Fern though. Fortune would never favor you so much that you would ever know the inner workings of Frances Khan. But perhaps if you had the honor, you'd have your heart broken by her and still wouldn't know why.
"I don't want to talk about it anymore," Sirius's face swiveled in the opposite direction of his friends' gazes. Only one of them knew why but mercifully did not press.
Author's note: Oh hiiiii
