Hi guys! Author note at the start - odd I know! It's finally the summer holidays, meaning (aside from while I'm away the first 2 weeks) updates should be nice and constant. However, as I've said before, reviews and likes always help for motivation - for example, Raven that Flies at Night, animexchick and especially cosmic bucky were the ones who really got me going with this.
But I need to warn you:
You might be excited by this chapter now - I mean it's one of the longest ones yet, nearly 1800 words. But- and it's a big but - a big thing happens here, and you might need tissues.
That said, please enjoy the chapter, keep up the love and i'll see you with the next chapter!
Love,
Daughter of Orion xoxo
Days slurred into weeks, weeks slurred into months like words tumbling from a drunken man's mouth. It seemed as though the second one day finished, the next began and suddenly we found ourselves in December, Christmas sprinting towards us rapidly. I couldn't wait for the final week of term to pass us by – it felt like a dozen eternities since I'd laid eyes on Arlo and in the excitement of the Christmas buzz, neither he nor my mother had written for a few days. Not that I minded; I myself had barely found time to scrawl a few words onto some parchment and owl it between all the impending assignment due dates, Christmas shopping and keeping up with the latest dramas (apparently Marlene's been meeting with this sixth year Hufflepuff, Marius Duley, in the fourth-floor broom closet! I think we all know what's happening there!). Moreover, two full moons had passed, one on Halloween, and another at the end of November, thankfully both being reasonably uneventful.
All in all, I was exhausted. The weight of Sirius' confession still bore away inside me and lulled on my shoulders, although Mrs Potter's invited him to stay there for the holidays – sometimes I wonder if James' mother is omnipotent, she always seems to know when something's wrong, especially concerning Sirius; perhaps Mr Potter's working in a department with Mr Black has raised some suspicion as to his treatment of his sons – so all was quite well. I just wished I could tell Remus, James and Peter. I felt an insatiable need to hurt Orion Black as much as he'd hurt Sirius, and I knew that if we all worked together, we'd probably manage it – and get away with it too. Alas, I'd made a promise, a promise I would keep until the gravestone was struck into the ground over my grave, and so I kept silent.
Lessons were becoming duller and duller as I awaited the Christmas break. All I wanted was to be free of the four-walled classrooms and escape back to Devon, where fields ran onto beaches, where the cool sea flowed beyond where the eye could see. I longed to be under the soft penumbra of the tall pines, to inhale the mossy scent of wet bark, leaves and mud. More than anything, I just wanted to see Arlo's face, my mother's face, and feel their warm arms wrapped around me, auras blending into the most incredible shade of gold. I wished Remus could come for Christmas, I just know they'd adore him as much as I do.
"Please, at least for one day." I begged as we stood outside the Gryffindor common room, waiting for the others. "I can show you the river, and the fallen tree that leads over it to the tiny beach! Arlo and I named it The Faery Bay, because it's so small, to a faery it would be like a huge bay." I pleaded with him, tugging his fingers and trying my best to give him puppy eyes.
"I can't, Star. The full moon's on the 29th, I'll be exhausted. And so will Arlo – our wolves may even clash for dominance. It's just not a good idea. I'm sorry." He gave his response through a crooked half-smile. I sighed, admitting defeat.
"And Star?" He added. I looked towards him as he grinned playfully. "I'm practically a dog, puppy eyes were never going to work." I smacked his chest, feigning irritance, before whispering "mangy mutt" under my breath. He grabbed me from behind and lifted me over his shoulder, tickling me until I screamed.
"Did you forget this 'mangy mutt' has supersonic hearing?" He teased, putting me down. Sirius and James came jogging up the staircase towards us, Peter panting a few steps behind. We entered the red room and flopped down onto squishy sofas and armchairs. The evening slipped away, with us eating chocolate and drinking mulled wine (James had snuck it in from Hogsmeade) in front of a warm fire, baubles and tinsel hung around us. Suddenly, a red ribbon fell from the ceiling, a piece of mistletoe sprouting from it, right above mine and Remus' head. We turned to each other, minds hazy with wine-induced fog and smiling, we brought our lips together. The sparks were like lightning through the mist in my head, and it was addictive. We broke apart, noses resting together.
"Bloody nargles." I breathed, a soft giggle winding out from my drunk mouth. Remus chortled, and sat back, and somehow the five of us exploded into erupting laughter, shaking the chairs and waking a few second years who came down to tell us to either shut up or put a silencing charm on the room. Only then did we realise how late – or, I suppose, early – it was, and we retired to our dorms to sleep.
…
I awoke with that disconcerting feeling in the pit of your stomach that you get when you know something's wrong. Like butterflies, but for the complete opposite feeling. Like moths. I had moths in my stomach when I rose from my bed on that Thursday morning. Tomorrow was the 20th December – the last day of term – and the day after that we'd all be going home, so why did I have a debilitating feeling of anxiety, or guilt, or fear, or… Something? I shook myself, I was just overreacting. This was last night's wine coming back to bite me on the ass. This was just a hangover. I dressed in my skirt and blouse (with all the fires inside it was too warm for robes) and dragged my long waves back into two braids running to above my ear, before letting to rest fall like an ocean of umber down my back.
I walked alone to breakfast – I could imagine the scene in the boys' room: Sirius and James refusing to get out of bed, Remus, pushing through his hangover trying to force them up, and Peter sorting himself, so he wouldn't miss breakfast. In the end, the four of them arrived about ten minutes after me, each one looking tired and groggy. I laughed quietly as they sat down.
"God, you four need a pick-me-up!" I tittered, pouring small amounts of a potion I'd found the recipe for in a book of my father's into their goblets. They looked at me, confused. "A hangover cure." I informed them, watching as the gulped down the grim liquid. They looked instantly better and thanked me.
As we ate, the daily owls came swooping through, dropping letters and parcels over the tables. A crisp white envelope found its way onto my lap, my name printed in block capitals over the front. I didn't recognise the writing but assumed Arlo had finally been taught to use his right hand. I kept telling him how he'd struggle at Hogwarts if he tried to write with a quill and wet ink if he used his left hand. I opened the letter, unfolding the parchment inside and began to read.
"Miss S. Smith,
It is with great sympathy and regret that I, Eugenia Jenkins, Minister of Magic, must inform you that an attack took place at your home of Wishwell on the day Tuesday 17th December 1974.
Both your mother, Mrs D. Smith, and your brother, Master A. Smith were rushed to St Mungo's, but, due the force and power of the curses placed on them by unknown Death Eaters, nothing could be done.
Myself and all my colleagues at the Ministry send our deepest condolences to you, and we apologise for not being able to prevent this attack.
We have attempted to contact your father, but we have no record of where he is, and so (as next of kin) this letter is addressed to you, and all property, wealth and belongings of your family now fall into your possession. However, as you have no legal guardian, they shall remain under the control of your headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, until your 18th Birthday.
I'm not supposed to write anything informal, but I feel I must. I'm so very, very sorry, Miss Smith. I cannot imagine the pain this will put you in. I feel entirely responsible and hope that one day you may forgive me and my workers for not being able to save your family.
Deepest regrets, sympathy and condolences,
Eugenia Jenkins,
Minister of Magic"
I sat, dumbfounded, unaware of how the parchment wavered in my shaking hands. Silently I rose from the table and walked out of the Great Hall, chin high and facing forwards. My feet took me out into the flurrying snow, though my bare arms were oblivious to the cold, I was oblivious to everything. I wandered aimlessly for about a mile before my legs collapsed beneath me. I was on the side of an exposed hill, Hogwarts laid before my eyes in all its warm glory. A safe place. I was alive. I was safe. But my mother was dead. Arlo was dead. Arlo…
I cried then, all my held in tears breaking through the flood barrier and freezing as icicles on my face. I screamed, cursing the wind, the snow, the sky, whatever gods do or don't exist. I wanted to swap. I wanted to die, and I wanted Arlo to live. He was perfect, so innocent, so full of hope for the world. Even after his attack, he refused to believe people could be completely bad; he insisted there was good in everyone, you just had to search deep enough. He deserved to be alive. At that moment, I think I realised that I needed Arlo more than he'd ever needed me. He'd been my distraction when our father left, the last precious thing I had, the only thing I had left to protect.
And I'd failed.
My father was right.
I was so numb with cold I couldn't even tell if I was shaking from my sobs or my temperature. I didn't care. More than anything, I just wanted to see Arlo's face, my mother's face, and feel their warm arms wrapped around me, auras blending into the most incredible shade of gold. I felt as though I'd thought that already. As my conditions whipped me, slowly drawing the breath from my lungs and pulling me into the darkness, the last thing I saw was my mother and Arlo embracing me, but as I tried to navigate my blue lips into asking them to stay, they disintegrated and blew away with the wind, my mother's voice whispering a soft goodbye, before her screams filled the skies, Arlo's cries echoing around behind them.
And then they disappeared, and I thought I heard a voice shouting my name in the distance as I slipped into the black.
I told you so, I tried warning you. Is Star dead? How's she going to be able to move on from this? I suppose we'll have to wait and see ;)
