Life goes on

by rrabbit

Cassius, Gavin, Lavinia, and Evelyn carry on with their lives as Draco and Ginny's children. It's tough starting your own family outside of the one you already have... This takes place right where When the truth doesn't matter left off.

12. Chapter 12

A/N: So, sorry for this long ridiculous wait. You know, I have a lot of stories on my alert list that haven't been updated in ages and I always wonder if something happened to the author… so when I started to get reviews asking if I was alright and still alive I knew I had to get my act together and update.

Unfortunately, life always gets in the way... new school, new town, new major, new job, new place, new boy… a lot of new things headed my way, so I've been lagging behind on this. I know! I'm sorry! Anyways, only a couple of chapters of this story are kind of beta'd but sadly I don't even have that anymore. Real life just ruins everything. So you must forgive the multiple mistakes and typo's that I'm sure I missed after I proof read this. You won't have to point them out either… I'll eventually see them later and I will flinch along with the rest of you while remaining too lazy to go in and actually change it.

I am sorry for making you wait! I usually try to keep ONE story updated frequently because I know it's bloody annoying to follow a story only to have it stop completely. I also know author notes are irritating when they're too lengthy and I usually skip them so I commend you if you read this far.

Anyways, thanks and I hope to keep this story rolling.

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Gavin

"What is a Roller Disco?"

I glance at Evelyn as I sling my leg over the arm of the red high backed chair I'm sitting in. "Why?" I ask before taking a sip from the hot mug of coffee, swinging my leg impatiently back and forth as I do because my nerves are just about shot.

"It says right here that they opened a roller disco in a part of wizarding London," she says as she looks down at her magazine, curling a strand of hair around one of her slim fingers with that damn dog laying beside her. "What is that?"

"I believe it's pretty self explanatory," I tell her as I close my eyes and tilt my head back.

Dad ordered us all to go home. Saying that he would let us know when Cassius woke up, but until then we should get some rest. I had to Apparate Evelyn to the Manor because she doesn't have her license yet and Lavinia went wherever the hell Flint went, of course. I know that I have a lot going on right now, but when I'm finally myself again, I'm going to have a long talk with my little sister and her unhealthy attachment to that crazy person. I still remember what a drunk Byron Flint said to me when I found him all beat up behind that pub. Now I have to question if that was true. He had better hope it isn't, I think darkly, as I crack my knuckles.

"Well, what does the roller part mean?"

"Roller skates, I imagine," I say with a sigh. I couldn't go to sleep so I had one of the elves make me some coffee to keep me going… and to get rid of my drunken stupor.

Evelyn decided she wanted to stay up too because she's annoying and constantly wants to bother me. She followed me into each room that I went into and right now she's laying on her stomach in front of the dead fireplace, reading magazines and bugging the hell out of me as her annoying new dog bounces around the room and barks at everything that moves. I hate animals with a passion and that little hyper puppy just might get kicked if it doesn't leave me alone.

"And the disco part?"

"Are you serious?" I ask as I open my eyes and glare at her.

She spares me an irritated glance before sighing and turning the page. "What's the difference between a magical roller disco and a muggle one?"

She really does bother me sometimes and I resist the urge to growl in frustration. I just want some quiet time… She never knows when to just be quite. I'm starting to resent Lavinia for going off with Flint even more because if she was here with our little sister, I wouldn't have to be.

"I don't know," I say with a shrug because a roller disco is one place I will never fucking go. "But I'm one hundred percent positive that the wizard version is going to be way better than anything a stupid muggle could think up."

She nods her head with her brows furrowed in concentration as she swings her legs up and down. "What is the point of muggles?" she asks quietly while turning another page in her magazine.

"I have no idea," I say honestly, tapping my free hand against my knee as I think of my brother who might be coming home.

Cassius might be coming home. What a weird thought.

Why am I so pissed off?

"I feel bad for the poor creatures," she says with a sigh. "I would hate not being able to do magic. What a terrible way to live."

"Well, there are more of them than us," I say, taking another drink from my coffee. "And I think they're getting by just fine."

"Hm," she says with a tilt of her head and then her slate eyes shoot up to mine. "Do you know what I want to do when I grow up?"

"Learn how to stop talking?" I ask with an eyebrow raised.

She scowls before remembering she's telling me something she's happy about and she sits up on her knees to face me. "I'm going to open a school for squibs, where they can learn how to make potions and how to do other magical things that don't involve a wand," she sits back on her heels with her hands on her thighs. "I always feel so terrible for squibs, having to know about magic, but never able to do it."

We went from a roller disco to talking about a school for squibs, all while our 'used to be dead' brother is on a hospital bed at St. Mungo's. Evelyn sure can steer a conversation, can't she? "Why do you care?" I ask because I personally don't know any squibs besides the janitor at school... and he didn't exactly spark sympathy in anybody.

"Jeremiah's older brother, Tony, is a squib. He had to go to some muggle school his whole life and now he repairs tellie… tellie… tellie something," she says, stumbling over the muggle word she doesn't know. "People in his family are so mean to him and he's never invited to their get togethers because it always takes him so long to get to those places. At my school, squibs can learn to use the floo and the can ride brooms…."

"It wouldn't work," I tell her as I flip my leg back over the arm of the chair so I can sit forward. I set my half empty cup on the table and then rest my elbows on my knees. "For those things to work, you have to have magic in you. If they worked for everyone, don't you think some wizard would have banked in on that with the muggles already?"

"But… what?" she asks, confused by my statement.

"If you gave a riding broom to a muggle or squib, they wouldn't be able to ride it because it's magic counteracts with a wizard or witches. That's what makes it fly." She still looks confused and I roll my eyes. I guess she hasn't gotten that far in her Wizarding world lessons.

"But, they could still make potions, right?" She asks because I am slowly killing her improbable dream of a stupid squib school.

"Ninety five percent of potion making is magic," I say, trying to make her understand. "We have a potion that can heal bones in twenty minutes… muggles have to wait months for their own bones to heal. Do you think we'd actually be that selfish and keep it to ourselves if it worked for everyone?" She frowns. "A magical person has to make it for it to work and a magical person has to drink it for it to work. Your magical school for squibs would accomplish nothing, no matter how good your intentions are."

"Oh," she says as she looks at the empty fire grate. "Well, nevermind then."

I stand up and walk over to one of the large bay windows so I can look at something other than the four corners of this room. As my tired eyes squint against the bright fucking sun that's shining in, I can't help but feel completely and utterly lost. My head hurts, my heart hurts, and my stomach is twisted in knots. I have no idea what I want to do or what I should think right now. I'm angry, I'm sad, I'm happy, I'm upset… that all boils downs to be being bloody confused and being bloody confused is never a good thing with me. Even though I'm pleased that my brother, by whatever miracle, might be coming back, I'm still miserable and I'm still pissed at him.

"What was Lucius Malfoy like?"

I look over my shoulder at Evie, who's reading the magazine again. "I don't know," I say. "He died when I was young."

"It says here that he was killed by a whole group of Aurors."

"What are you reading?" I ask in annoyance. I'm perfectly fine with wallowing in self pity and depression right now… but Evelyn is just like the freaking pep squad at school that never shuts the fuck up.

"Just this magazine," she says with a shrug. "Daddy's in here too… so are you and Cassius." Her eyes flick to mine. "I bet the press will never leave us alone now," she says seriously.

I nod my head in agreement. Someone from St. Mungo's had tipped off the press, so when Evelyn and I arrived outside of the gates of the Manor there were forty reporters and photographers wanting to know about my brother. I'm actually dreading it because I have a lot of stuff I need to take care of and it's going to be hard to sort out when an idiot with a camera is following me everywhere I go.

"What's the article about?" I ask curiously as I cross my arms and watch one of the trees rattle with the wind. I know she'll tell me about it eventually, I might as well beat her to the punch.

"Just the Malfoy men and how our family tree has depleted rapidly since the Great War," she says softly. "There is a lovely picture of Grandpa Lucius and Grandma Narcissa in here," she says as she turns the magazine over to show it to me.

I take a few steps closer to her so I can see it properly. It's a black and white photo taking up a whole glossy page in the magazine. I can tell it was a candid shot, taken during a sunny day out on the veranda of the Manor. They're sitting by the tapered columns on white wicker chairs by a small table that has a bouquet of flowers as a centerpiece. Judging by the looks of my grandparents, it was a very long time ago. They seem very young to me, probably around their early twenties or even late teens maybe, but despite their youth they have clearly already mastered the casual elegance that would define them in later life.

My Grandfather's reputation as a Death Eater and business man has always been very severe and towards the end of his life, father said he had been riddled with madness because of the horrors of war. I didn't know what that meant, obviously I was too young to even remember him, but in this photo he looked like the arrogant stately young heir of a wealthy family who didn't have a care in the world.

He looked like my father.

He looked like Cassius.

He looked like me.

"I think our grandparents were a handsome couple. Don't you agree?"

"Yeah," I agree as I study the photo. "They were."

Lucius was sitting across from my Grandmother, wearing a three piece suit with a white undershirt and matching tie. His legs were crossed, making his pants ride up just enough to show off argyle socks and polished leather shoes. He was speaking to her with a charming, almost mocking, smile on his face as his right hand held a cigarette that he periodically took a drag from as they talked, blowing out smoke from the corner of his smirking mouth. This wasn't Lucius the Death Eater that I had known from stories; this was Lucius the young man who had a future ahead of him. His hair was closer in texture to mine, more so than my father's or brother's, and he had it cropped short to his head and combed away from his face in thick waves.

I tilted my head and walked closer, taking the magazine from my sister so I could get a better look at my grandparents. I wonder what advice he would have given me for my current problems. He seemed like a man who got things done… viciously… but got them done none the less.

"Doesn't Grandma look lovely?" Evelyn says wistfully as she puts her chin in her hands, letting her elbows rest against the glass coffee table.

The Lucius in the picture reaches over the table and moves his fedora out of the way to put his cigarette out in the crystal ash tray. My eyes slide over to Grandma, who I had loved dearly, as she sips her tea. She was the only extended family member that we had that didn't hate us or want us to change who we were for the sake of compromise and I loved her for it. Evelyn was right. She did look beautiful in this picture as she always did. Never once did I see my grandmother look plain or tired because she was always so meticulously put together and styled in an elegant grace that only old money and a good primary school can give you.

She was also beautiful in the way you expect women to be beautiful, with her blonde hair and glacier blue eyes surrounded by long lashes. She walked that fine line between looking like a woman and looking like a girl, the combination that holds a man's fascination quite attentively. Even then she held her self with such confidence that she looked much older than she was in this photo. In her younger form, I could see Lavinia's eyes and chin. I could see Evelyn's body and lips. It was weird seeing her like this when I remember her as an older woman.

"I wish I had that dress," Evelyn says as she gets up on her knees again so I'll hand the magazine back.

I ignore her as I study the picture more closely.

The dress she was wearing was light, I'm not sure of the color, but it looked like it was made out of some smooth silk material and it hung off of her shoulders, revealing her birdlike shoulders and sharp collar bone. Her golden hair was swept up, with a few strategic curls falling free by her temple and the base of her neck, brushing over her shoulders and onto her pale skin. She was sipping tea and she smiled at her husband as he spoke, with white wrist length gloves on her delicate hands and a beautiful beaded necklace around her neck.

I ignore my sister's grumblings as I turn the magazine over to see the article printed beside the photo. The Many Masks of the Malfoy Line—A history of mental health problems in the pureblood elite. Evelyn had obviously lied to me about what the article was about and I shoot her an irritated look before looking back down. There's a small graphic of a cracked death eater's mask by the title and I sit down on the high backed chair I was in earlier to read it, ignoring the way Evelyn is griping about giving it back to her and ignoring the way her fucking dog is sniffing my shoe.

I usually ignore articles written about my family because they're written so often, especially since Cass passed away, or whatever the hell he did. It renewed the presses interest in our family and this article is a prime example of the public's obsession with wealth, drama, tragedy, and an extravagant life style that most people will never reach in their lifetime. If they only knew life is boring and hell for the rich and the poor alike. We just get more toys to play with.

At the lower right hand corner is a baby photo of my Father when he was just a year old, wearing some ridiculous sailor outfit and knee high socks. The caption tells me it was the official photo released by the family of the first Malfoy heir born to my grandparents. The beginning of the article runs through our family history that dates back centuries, how we've always come from money, but our fortune really grew during the late 1800's. I skipped most of the first page because I already knew most of the things in it, but I started reading again when I got to my Great Grandfather's involvement with a boy named Tom Riddle. Whether Abarax Malfoy knew that boy was going to become the Dark Lord, I can't say, but he followed him blindly and funded most of his bribes and functions when he started the first war.

He was also bi-polar and suffered from dramatic mood swings. One which led to my Grandfather's brother, Claudius', death, sending my great grandfather to a mental institution for four years for the accidental shaking death of his youngest son during a fit of undiagnosed sickness. I never knew that story and, to be honest, it gave me a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. It was bad enough knowing my own father's horror stories but it really makes you think twice when the crazy seems to be hereditary. He was busted out early, like most Malfoy's are, when the Dark Lord took control of the Dementors that guarded Azkaban and other federal buildings during the first war's take over.

Then the article started talking about inbreeding and how most pureblooded families suffered from mental and physical health problems because of genetic imperfections that never get weeded out.

I skip those paragraphs too. I don't need to think about my future children having six toes or a hair lip because a cousin of a cousin got married to a cousin back in the day.

I skip a few more pages until I see a photo of my father. It's obviously a paparazzi shot because he's walking into Malfoy Enterprises with out bothering to look at the camera. He's wearing his winter cloak and his leather gloved hand is clutching his brief case in barely veiled frustration. An expression he usually had after Cassius died and the press followed him around, wanting to know how he felt. Ask a few reporters that my Dad cursed out of frustration… I'm sure they have an idea how he bloody felt after losing his son. They write about his shadowed past and about his time as minister, how it was clouded with controversy. Another picture is one of my Mother in a yellow cardigan and a flower patterned dress, smiling at my father as he gave one of his speeches when he was campaigning for the Wizengamot.

It was a real smile… not a fake one she usually had at those types of things and I figured Dad must have winked at her when it was taken. That's something he always does at big functions when they're far away from each other because it calms her down. Even though my Mother is constantly being thrust into the spot light because of our last name and my Father's career decisions, she is still a shy person underneath it all.

I totally bypass the Cassius section, because it would make me sad and angry, and other confusing things that I'd rather not feel at the moment. I pause only to glance at a photo of my sun kissed brother standing in a sandy desert with a smile on his face as he holds up some kind of artifact that he found. It was when he was in Egypt, studying the pyramids and other stupid things during college.

"Oh, disgusting!" I look to Evelyn as she spits the rest of my coffee back into the cup. I guess I'm finished with that now. "How do you drink that stuff!?"

"I'm going to go take a nap," I tell her. I take the magazine with me as I leave the room.

"Hey, Gavin," she snaps as I walk through the doorway. "Stop, I don't want to be alone!"

I ignore her as I jog up the long fucking stairway towards the second floor and then I take the split stairs on the right to the third floor so I can get to my bed room. The old place is just as I had left it because my parents have so many rooms there really is no need to change them for something else. I heel out of my shoes when I reach my old bedroom and I fall down on my bed, flipping through the bloody magazine like a woman until I spot a picture of me.

I'm coming out a pub late at night with some dark haired witch by my side, drunk and laughing as she holds my hand. The article at least commends me for working at my father's company instead of just mooching off of the family's money the rest of my life. I really didn't have a choice, to be honest. Mom and Dad give me an ultimatum when I graduated from Hogwarts. Either I go to college to get a good job, or I work at my Father's business… I wouldn't have been able to touch my trust fund unless I had a job of my own or if I was in school working towards a degree to help me get a job. My decision was obvious, I thought.

The rest of the article wasn't so nice.

It mainly focused on me going out and partying late at night… even with a pregnant fiancée. I rub my forehead as I see a photo of myself next to some professional singer named Wendy Westwick who had her hand on my thigh. We were at an after party for a record release sometime last fall. I hate music industry parties because there are always hard drugs and desperate people there, but I just happened to go to that one because I needed to be reminded why I hated it, I guess. New money went to parties like this one, where famous people hung around and talked about how great they were and rich people talked about their bank accounts. My Father told me that a Malfoy has more class then that and we should avoid new money and empty fame because it was tactless. Of course, when this photo originally came out in the papers, hinting towards a relationship, Addison was so upset with me she wouldn't talk to me for a week.

The whole fucking section on me was about me stepping out and partying while I had a girlfriend at home who never came with me. It makes me think of Addison and what she said about cheating… even though I never cheated on her, it seems like I'm the only one who thinks so. I tiredly rub my eyes again and throw the magazine on the floor, unable to read it anymore. I'm tired. I want to go to sleep, but there is no way in hell I can get comfortable enough to actually do it.

I scowl into the pillow and then the scratches from my back burn against my shirt so I hurry to take it off. I sit on the edge of the bed, unbuttoning it half way down my chest and then pulling it over my head in impatience, throwing it across the room like touching it any longer than I needed to would contaminate me somehow. I walk over to the mirror along the far wall and I look at my body, tilting my neck from side to side to see the bite marks and looking at my arms and my back to see the trail of red scratches on my pale skin. I narrow my eyes before taking out my wand and healing my body until I look normal and unblemished again.

"Bloody harpy," I mutter as I remember Pansy White and my disgusting rash decision from last night. I better get those bloody Daily Prophet papers today.

I find myself staring at my reflection in the mirror for a very long time, seeing nothing and hearing nothing until I decide I can't stay at the Manor anymore. I want someone to talk to. I want someone to confide in but the two people I would talk to are indisposed to me now. I refuse to talk to Addison and Cassius is… whatever the hell he is right now… I don't have many friends. Well, I don't have many closefriends. One thing you learn early as a Slytherin boy is that you can't show weakness or you'll lose your alpha male status. I don't want that gone but I don't want to stay here by myself. Evelyn is too young and my parents are too wrapped up in Cassius to care about me so I look down at the open magazine on the floor to see the photo of my Grandmother and Grandfather again.

What would Lucius do?

I think I know someone who could tell me.

Lucius' portraits in the Manor never speak… the only two that do are Grandmother's portrait in the ballet room and a random painting in the foyer of my great grand uncle named Cleotis Malfoy who constantly talks about how much he hates cats. It's never fun to talk to a painting. I've found that they're much too eager for conversation for my tastes. I glance at the bedside table where I had placed that camera my mother had given me at the beach that one afternoon. I think of the two pictures there on the film inside and I narrow my eyes while looking at the door.

I make up my mind in two seconds and when I'm sure of my decision I barrel out of my room and down the stairs, jumping two at a time in my haste to leave the Manor while tugging on a gray shirt I had grabbed from my closet. I leave through the front door and when I reach the Apparation point I lift my wand and pop away, landing squaring in front of a large white house with glass double doors and a statue of a stupid looking dragon protecting the porch. I pocket my wand and knock, my knuckles banging against the glass so harshly that they begin to ache.

Two seconds later a pissed off Theo Nott answers the door, tying a bathrobe around his body and cussing under his breath. He glares when he sees me like I just ruined his day.

"What the fuck, Malfoy?" he says gruffly as he opens the door.

"I need to talk," I tell him. He's older than me and I kind of look at him as a mentor figure even though he's not that responsible or that good of a role model. Alright, so he's the only old guy I know outside of my father who could help me out.

He looks me over and then he steps aside so I can come in after deciding that it must be serious. I push past him and when we reach the main sitting room, decorated in an unfortunate art deco style with teal colors, I sit down heavily on the chair and slouch down with my hand resting against my face.

"What did you want to talk about?" he asks carefully, taking a seat across from me, making sure that his bathrobe is covering his body. I suspect he might be naked under there… I wonder if he has a girl upstairs.

"My dead brother came back to life, I fucked Pansy White, and my fiancée cheated on me making me question the paternity of the baby she's growing."

There's a long pause where Theo just stares at me and then he lets out a long sigh. "That's a lot to take in," he says, standing up and walking over to a glass cabinet along the wall. I agree with him as he takes out two crystal glasses and fills them halfway with some kind of alcohol. "When did all this happen?"

"Oh, yesterday," I say, realizing that yesterday was a pretty fucked up day for me. I lean my head back against the white cushions and close my eyes.

He walks back and hands me the glass which I accept readily because alcohol always seems to make things better even when it's twelve o'clock in the afternoon.

"Well, start from the beginning then," he says tiredly and I dive into my story, stating every painful horrifying detail of my fucked up day that had sufficiently crushed me a few times over. When I'm finished with my tale I sit back and he raises his eyebrows. "That's horrible, Gavin. What do you want me to say?"

That's irritating. "What would my grandfather have done in this situation?" I ask because the man seemed strong… demented, but strong.

"Lucius Malfoy would never have been in this situation," he says seriously and I scowl. It seems like he was saying that Lucius was a better, stronger, smarter, man than I would ever be. He looks me over again as I debate leaving him here because he's no help what so ever. Then he sits forward on his chair with his elbows on his knees and his eyes shining. "You know, when you first knocked on the door, I thought you were an agent from the Ministry."

"Why did you think that?" I snap, still upset that he's not very fucking comforting me like I bloody expected. I guess I thought he would be because he reminds me of my father sometimes. They're the same age, they used to be friends, they're both intelligent and they're confident, but this man isn't my Dad and he doesn't love me the way my father does. Coming here was a mistake.

"All registered Death Eater's were supposed to sign a documented oath promising not to join the new Purist Party that's rising underground. If we don't sign it we could go to Azkaban and if we do, and break the oath, we get cursed and have to go to Azkaban anyways. You're father probably has to do it too."

"Did you sign the paper?" I ask, just to carry on the conversation until he gets to his point.

"No, I think it's an infringement on our rights. The government should have no say on what political affiliations we decide to align ourselves with."

This is taking my mind off of my fucked up life so I carry on the topic, hoping it will loop around to me again so I can find some peace. "What about the unregistered Death Eaters?" It would be naïve to think that all of them were caught, charged, and tagged.

"They're lucky," he says with a smile. "What do you believe? I know your father's party is conservative, but they seem to be getting more moderate, don't you think?" he asks as he crosses his arms. "What do you believe in?"

I'm too tired to have a political discussion with him now. "I don't believe in anything," I say softly. As sad as that is… it's mostly true.

"Well, I think as a pureblooded son you should want to preserve our wizarding culture."

"I wasn't aware it was under threat," I say, kind of annoyed that we've gotten so off topic from me. I'm very self centered so this just pisses me off.

"Oh, it is, Gavin." He says seriously. "I know the Dark Lord went about it the wrong way. He had different motives and I was never cruel… nor did I believe in the killings, but I do believe that we need to protect ourselves."

I rub my forehead. "Yeah?" I say, not really caring.

"Yes," he says solidly so I'll look at him. "If we let enough diluted bloods and their muggle families come into our society than we'll lose our magic forever."

"I don't know if that's true," I say tiredly. I know Theo was basically one of Dark Lord's PR men… I don't need a pitch right now.

"It is," he says with more zeal, obviously liking this topic. We've been meeting together for years but we've never breached the discussion of blood status and all that because I never fucking cared about it. But I guess he sees an opportunity. "Muggles can't do magic and everything that's magical dies around them… just imagine, all those mudbloods are messing up our magical balance with their dirty blood."

I stare at him and blink a few times. What the hell is he talking about? He didn't even ask me how my brother came back from the dead. That seems like a pretty important question to ask, even if it's just out of curiosity.

"We're not even half as powerful as we used to be," he says seriously with that fire in his eyes. "Muggles out number us ten to one, but we have our own places of concentrated magic that's starting to die because of halfbloods, mudbloods, and their filthy parents. We have a messed up system, Gavin. If I went into the heart of muggle London and did a simple spell I would get my wand snapped in half, but all those bloody muggles and their spawn can just waltz into Diagon Alley whenever they please and no one cares. It isn't fair."

"I guess not," I say as I take a drink from my glass. It's strong and it burns my throat. There's nothing quite like a Firewhisky in the afternoon.

"You should come to our next meeting," he says as he takes a piece of discarded paper off of the table beside his chair. "I think you would like it."

"Doubtful," I tell him honestly, but I accept the flyer he hands me anyways. With out reading it I stuff it into my pocket.

"You asked me what your Grandfather would have done," he says seriously. "Lucius would have gone to this meeting and took over. Let your life have some meaning… have something to fight for, Gavin."

I look down. I have nothing to fight for anymore I guess, but I'm too tired to care. "I need to go home. Thanks for the advice," I tell him sarcastically as I stand up. "I'll see you later."

That was a bloody waste of time. "Just think about it," he says as he stands as well, walking towards the front door. "We meet on Saturdays. Just think, your brother is back because of magic… you don't want that to go away."

I look at him and then leave with out another word. Everybody disappoints me. I stand on his front porch for a few moments, thinking it unfair that the sky is so clear and the sun is so sunny today of all days. The sun just pisses me off anyways. I pull the lime green flyer from my pocket and quickly skim the cover as I stall myself from going home.

The Political Party of Purists for the Preservation of Pureblood kind.

"Clever," I mutter before scrunching it up and throwing it behind me as I walk away.

Evelyn

"Jeremiah!"

I run over to him as he stands in the fireplace covered in soot and looking nervous.

"Are you mad?" I ask. My surprise at seeing him is making my voice sound shrill and annoying so I try to tone it down. "What are you doing here?" I whisper as I pull him out of the grate and unto the polished floor, looking around to make sure Gavin isn't nearby to see him.

"Well," he says as he wrings the bottom of his stripped shirt with his thin fingers. "Well, you said you were coming over and you never did and I got worried." He finally looks into my eyes and then his face changes, becoming much more serious. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, Jay," I say as I think about my morning. "You will never believe it."

"What happened?" he asks seriously, turning his body towards mine to give me his full attention. Nero nips at his fingers and poor Jeremiah jumps and twitches his hand away while giving me an alarmed look like the little Dalmatian puppy was a savage beast as opposed to a little baby doggie. "Is that yours?"

"Daddy got him for me," I tell him as I pull him towards the couch and I push his shoulders so he'll sit down. When he thumps on the couch I put my hands on my hips. "I never came last night because something strange and magnificent happened," I say as I walk over to the door and I peek my head out to make sure no one is there. If Dad ever knew Jeremiah came over without permission and without supervision I would probably be banned from seeing him ever again. Even though Gavin is the only one home right now… he's more like Dad than he'd care to admit and I don't want to test that.

"If it's magnificent, why does it look like you've been crying?" he asks as I take a seat beside him once I'm sure we're safe.

"Cassius is in the hospital right now, he might be okay!" I nearly squeal at saying it out loud and Jeremiah has no idea what to say so I tell him all that I know, all about Lavinia and Byron, and all about the cemetery. I exclude the part about me crying at St. Mungo's because he didn't need to know that particular detail.

"Whoa," he says when I'm finished with my tale. "That's… that's confusing."

"You're telling me," I say with a nod of my head. It's so confusing and so different that it doesn't even seem real to me right now. But it has to be because that would be grand!

"So, what does that mean?" I shrug and glance at his attire. He's wearing a green and blue stripped polo shirt and a pair of orange shorts that have more zippers and pockets on them then any decent pair of clothing should. I turn away and smile, resisting the urge to shake my head at his silliness. My poor fashionably challenged Jeremiah. "Are you just waiting then, for your parents to come home?"

"Yeah, that's about all I can do. Isn't it wild, though?"

"Yeah," he says heavily as he looks away and nods his head. "Yeah."

I look over his face that's partially covered with black soot as he glances at me from the corner of his eyes. "First things first," I say, trying to organize the conversation I want to have with him. Since he's here I might as well get out with it. "Do you love me?"

His large blue eyes widen and he looks horrified, obviously he wasn't expecting that change of direction in the conversation. "What?"

"Well, do you love me?"

"You're my best mate," he says uncomfortably.

I furrow my brows as I think about what Xavier told me. About how I was blind about Jeremiah and the way he looked at me.

"But do you love me?"

"I'm fourteen," he says tightly as he shifts his shoulders a few times telling me he's nervous. "You… you just, like… you, like... I love you, but not… you're just like one of the guys." He laughs nervously and he punches my arm to get that 'one of the guys' point across.

"One of the guys?" I repeat as I rub my arm because he hit harder than I think he should have. I have no idea why I feel a little dejected that he said that. "One of the guys," I say softly to myself and then I look at him and force a smile. "Yeah, I see you as one of the girls," I tell him as I punch his arm, harder than he did to me and he flinches while falling back on the couch.

"Yeah," he says as he winces and rubs his arm as well.

"Yeah…" I repeat as I look away.

"Er… why did you ask that?" he asks as he itches the back of his neck, sitting up and trying not to flinch when he touches his arm again. No doubt he'll bruise, the poor thing. "Why… I mean…" he trails off and I immediately regret bringing it up because things feel awkward and the air seems heavy and dense. I hate that feeling.

"Well, it's just nothing," I say with a sigh and I sit back against the cushions, realizing how very tired I am. "I think I'm going to ask Xavier out on a date," I muse out loud because he obviously wouldn't care since I'm 'one of the guys.' "We kissed, you know. I believe I like him very much."

"But…" there's along pause and I raise an eyebrow at my soot covered best friend because he looks like he just swallowed a lemon. "But he's always so mean to you."

"Not always," I say with a yawn as I curl into a ball on the couch with my head by Jeremiah's lap.

Nero barks and Jay glares at him before looking back at me.

"He said your hair was the color of sick cat pee."

I frown when I remember that but then I brush it off with a shrug. "I think he's just misunderstood."

"I think he's a jerk." He says crossly, pushing coarse curls out of his face.

"We should all go out on a double date to a roller disco," I say with a yawn. "You and whatsherface and me and Xavi… I think it could be fun," I tell him as my eyes droop shut. "I read about it, you know. They just opened one in London."

"It doesn't sound like fun," he states bitterly. "Why do you all of a sudden like him?" he asks pointedly. "You said, and I quote, 'I shall loath that evil French toad for the duration of my life until I die where I will hate him with my last breath.'"

"Hm…" I say softly as I nod off to sleep, pulling myself back out because I don't want to be rude to my Jeremiah even though he is being quite chilly with me at the moment. "I suppose I did say that. He's not so terrible anymore, though." I smile sleepily. "I will be so happy if Cass comes home," I say with a yawn, going back to the thought that's most important to me now. "I believe I loved him best," I say and then I smile at the confession, not totally sure if that's true or not.

"I hope so too," Jeremiah says warmly and I smirk when I feel him push some curls away from my face. I suppose he's not so sour now. "He wasn't as frightening as your Dad or Gavin. He was the most approachable of your siblings."

I snort and bring my hands up to tuck under my chin. "He is very nice," I say, happy that I don't have to use the past tense anymore, god willing. "People don't expect that, you know?" I say and Jeremiah makes an agreeable grunting sound. "Because he's the oldest and he looks so much like Dad people expect him to be ruthless and sly… but he's not at all. He's very open and honest and kind."

"Yeah," Jeremiah replies, saying that because I'm sure he has nothing else to say that's constructive.

"Did I tell you about that one time I broke my ankle?"

"Yes, you did."

"Well, did I tell you that it was Cassius who found me? I could have been out there all night and no one would have found me."

"I've heard that story before…" he says softly. "A few times," he adds and I sigh.

"Oh," is all I say as I clench my eyes shut against the sun shining in through the windows.

That was probably one of the most frightening times of my life. I was eight and terribly stubborn when I didn't get my way. I can still be that way, I suppose, but when I was younger it was pretty bad. I wanted to stay outside and play, but Mom called me in and made me take a bath and go to bed because it was getting late. Of course, I threw a fit that could end the world until my father stepped in and used that sharp voice that always makes me obey. I stomped to my room that night and refused to say goodnight to anyone as I went to bed with a furious feeling settling on my heart.

I didn't sleep. I was too upset to do such a thing and when I was sure everyone was asleep I decided to sneak outside and continue playing. I snuck out barefoot, still in my night gown, without any fear of the dark as I ran through the garden towards my play house. I didn't even realize how creepy the Manor was in the dead of night until I started to climb the tree house's ladder to get to my pink house that was placed up there the year before for my birthday. It was my young minds way to defy my parents by playing even after they told me to stop, but the wind picked up and my foot slipped.

I tried to hold on, I really did, but I screamed when I feel. It wasn't even that far up because my Mom and Dad refused to put it any higher than where it was, but I did land on my ankle in a strange, twisted way and when I heard it snap I just knew something was wrong. I didn't even feel it at first as I laid in the dark on the grass, surrounded by the flowers of the garden. Intense pain like that doesn't come until later and I tried to stand up, only to crumple back down to the ground in a weak heap. It was dark outside, but my eyes had adjusted to it, so I could see the vague outlines of things around me. I ran my hands over my bare legs and my ankles, immediately feeling the deformed bump that was already forming there.

Then it started hurting.

Then I cried.

Suddenly, I was all too aware of the darkness and the creepy noises that were surrounding me as I called for the house-elves, but none came. I called for my Mom and my Dad… I called for just about everyone, but no one heard me. I tried to crawl, but I just felt so terrible that I couldn't make it and the pain was unlike anything I had ever felt before so I slumped back against the grass and closed my eyes. Trying to pretend like I was inside, in-between my parents as they slept in their bed, where it was safe and warm. I figured then that I was just going to die there because no one was ever going to find me. As silly as that thought was, I believed it.

While I was accepting the fact that I was doomed to die outside in the garden by myself, I heard footsteps and I saw a light coming towards me from the end of a wand. At first glance I thought it was my Dad and I nearly stood up to fun over to him if my ankle would have allowed it.

"Daddy," I had said, somewhere in between a sigh and a whine. "I fell."

"What were you doing out here?" I recognized Cassius voice right away and I sat up when he approached me, looking concerned and pale with his wand held out in front of him lit with a lumos spell. "Are you alright?" he asked as he bent down at my side, taking me in.

I thought one of my parents would have found me out of intuition, so the fact that Cass was the one who did confused me. "How did you know I was here?" I asked and my voice sounded horse from yelling and crying.

He tucked his wand behind his ear as he felt along my leg, wincing when he saw the knot forming on my ankle. "I have my window open and I heard you yelling," he said as he ran gentle fingers over my broken bone. I whimpered so he stopped. "I thought it was a hurt cat or something," he says and I realize he wouldn't have been able to distinguish anything I said because I was so hysterical and the garden is a good deal away from the main house. "I think this is broken. I'm going to go get Mom."

He went to stand up but I gripped his shirt and pulled him back down. "Don't leave me alone. I hate it," I stated. Even though I went out by myself, that was mostly in anger and revenge… I didn't even think of it.

"I do to," he said and then he gave me a lopsided smile. "I guess I'll just have to carry you, then."

I smiled when he scooped me up, carrying me like a baby back into the house. "Don't tell Mom or Daddy," I said to his chest as he carried me through the back entrance with one arm under my knees and the other supporting my back. "I don't want them to be mad at me."

"Why were you out there? What happened?" he asked softly as he walked into the Manor. What I liked about Cassius was that he looked and sounded like Dad, so he made me feel safe, but he acted and smiled like Mom, which made me feel comforted. He was like the best of both of them.

"I just wanted to play some more," I admitted, which earned me a stern glare from my seventeen year old brother. "It got windy and I slipped from the ladder," I explained.

"You're lucky you didn't break your neck," he told me seriously and I became confused when he walked me into the kitchen. "The potions are in here," he said to answer my questioning gaze. "I haven't mastered any bone healing spells yet," he said as he went over to a large locked oak cabinet along the wall. He unlocked it with his wand and sorted through the labels before taking out a honey yellow bottle. "Two spoonfuls," he muttered as he unscrewed the lid and took a spoon out of the drawer.

I watched him from my spot, sitting on top of the island as he measured out the correct dose and fed it to me like I was a little child. I felt my ankle tingling, not quite healing but getting there, as I digested the potion into my body. It wasn't steady enough to walk on just yet so Cass carried me up to my bedroom to lay me down. I remember thinking how strong he was because his arms never strained, nor did he complain about having to carry me because at, eight years old I was past the point of being held and carried like that.

"Please don't tell them, Cass," I stated as he tucked me into bed. "They really will be angry."

"Never do it again and I won't," he said as he made sure the covers were up to my shoulders and that the pillow was straight behind my head.

"Thank you," I told him, leaning up to kiss his cheek as he bent down to retrieve a twig that had gotten tangled in my hair. "I love you so very much."

A small smile broke his face as he looked down at me. "Go to sleep now, Evie," he said in a deep voice. "And stay in your bed, you silly girl. You're lucky I heard you or you would have been out there all night."

I nodded my head, knowing it was true and my eyes watered again. "Will you stay in here with me?" He didn't want to, I could tell by his facial expression. Judging by his messy hair, and the shorts and t-shirt he was wearing, I knew I had woken him up. "Just until I go to sleep," I whispered, remembering how menacing the trees looked when I was laying hopeless in the garden. "Please?" I asked, blinking my eyes and trying to work my adorable charm on him.

He sighed and looked away, letting the lumos from his wand dim. "Alright, then," he said and I smiled, resisting the urge to clap my hands. "Scoot over," he said and I did as he asked and scooted to give him more room. He put his wand on my bed side table, turning the lumos spell off before folding his hands behind his head. He was laying on top of the covers with and he stared up at the ceiling as I got comfortable on my side of the bed. I turned on my side, letting my body face his as my ankle healed and I began to feel warm and safe in my own bed again.

I fell asleep to his deep breathing and when I woke up in the morning he was gone. He never told our parents about that night and my ankle healed beautifully.

I smile when I feel Jeremiah move my head to his lap and he lets his hand rest on my shoulder. I take it off and kiss his palm before handing it back to him. That depression that was with me at St. Mungo's seems to be gone and I'm just excited that my brother may come home.

"Today might be great," I whisper before falling asleep, with Jeremiah's hand touching my hair, curling and twirling the strands around his fingers.

When I wake up a few hours later, I'm completely laying on top of Jeremiah with his body stretched out under mine. I lift my head from his chest and squint against the light as he snores and I yawn. I have to wonder how we ended up in this position, but I suppose I don't mind. I've always been a skinny girl, but Jeremiah is impossibly skinny as well and I rarely feel dainty around him. It's good to know I won't crush him to death while lying on top of his frame. I smile at him and his sleepiness as I carefully crawl off of him and stretch my stiff body. Since neither of us is dead, I can assume that no one came home while we slept. I pick up a throw blanket and cover Jeremiah with it so he'll stay warm and I tuck his long limbs under the cover so he's not sprawled out all over the place.

He turns his head and mummers to himself before falling back into a deep sleep and I push some sandy colored hair away from his face before kissing his cheek and standing up straight. This is when it's good to have a boy as a best mate. Girls aren't half as fun to cuddle with. I watch him as I leave the room, making sure he doesn't wake up and when I reach the hallway I turn towards the stairs and head up, still half asleep myself as I turn towards the attic.

I walk blindly, not really sure why I'm heading this way, but just feeling like I should. I didn't truly realized how much I had missed Cassius until now, and I want to remember him again before he officially comes home. Most of the photo's that were around here that Cass was in, Daddy had taken down because he couldn't stand seeing them so I make my way towards the attic with light footsteps and tired eyes. I feel a pull to be there and when I finally reach the musty air of the large attic room my eyes immediately go towards the far wall, where a cluster of wooden chests are resting. I go over to them and kneel in front of the chest that has Cass' name on it and I pop open the lid. Sorting through pictures of my brother, I find a smile on my face because it feels different this time.

To be honest, I think I almost forgot what he looked like because every time I tried to focus on him before, it just turned fuzzy in my mind and I couldn't even remember the exact shade of gray of his eyes. I'm no longer sad looking at his things or seeing pictures of him. I feel hope and that is such a wonderful and addicting feeling that I can't contain my smile.

As I look warmly down at a picture of Cassius when he was a boy, I spot a shiny object by my left foot. I look down and see a tiara with pearls dangling from the silver frame. I remember this from the last time I was up here and I look behind me as I place the photos back in the chest to find the white box with the beautiful white dress. Mom had said it had belonged so some wicked aunt of my father's, but I don't care who it belongs to because I think it's pretty. Maybe I could shorten the hem and cut off the sleeves to make a nice dress to wear for when Cassius officially comes home. I bet my parents will throw a ball for it because they are forever throwing balls for every little thing. I go to the box and open the lid, taking the beautiful gown from the tissue lining and walking over to the uncovered mirror against the wall. I put the dress up to my body and check myself out in different angles to see how it will look, and imaging myself laughing and dancing with my lost brother who I will finally see again.

It seems silly, with all that's going on right now… with Cass in the hospital and Jeremiah asleep downstairs, but I just really want to wear this lovely dress. I carefully strip out of my clothes, letting them land in a thud beside me and I slip on the dress with its lace, satin, and long sleeves. It's too long for me, but it actually fits around the waist and bust, telling me that wicked woman my Mom was so upset about was just as tiny as I am now.

If I shortened the hem and cut off the sleeves I think it could be a pretty good dress for me. I'd have to clean it of course… but that won't be too difficult. I imagine all the different ways to make the dress better as I tie the green sash that's under my breasts… or lack there of. To finish off the look I put the tiara on my head while I stand in front of the mirror and turn around to check the back. I wonder who Bellatrix Black was and why my mother hates her so.

"Pretty," I say out loud to myself and I turn away from the mirror to try to find some matching shoes.

"You do look lovely."

I turn back at the mirror in surprise to see my reflection, only it's not my reflection at all. The black haired woman with dark eyes is wearing the same dress and tiara I am and when she sees me her face falls.

"Who the hell are you?"

I raise my eyebrows in surprise because I had never talked to a mirror before and I couldn't imagine one so rude. "Are you a ghost?" I ask as I walk closer to get a better look at the beautiful woman in the mirror who's wearing my dress.

"No, I'm not a bloody ghost, you moron." I sniff and cross my arms because of the way she's treating me. I don't even think she's real for goodness sakes. "Why are you wearing that dress? It isn't yours, so take it off!"

"Are you a Flint?" I ask as I take her in, not responding to her craziness. All the Flints have black coal hair and beautiful eyes like the young woman in front of me, but apparently that question was distasteful because the woman scowls.

"No, I am not related to those wart infested bridge trolls who call themselves purebloods. I want to know who you are and why you are in that dress!"

I just stare at the weird reflection until said reflection raises an eyebrow and crosses its arms. "Who are you?" I ask back as I match her stance. "This is my house. What kind of spell is this?" I ask as I step closer and tap the mirror with my finger.

She sneers. "I asked you first."

"I'm real and you're not," I counter back as I tap her face again with my fingernail.

She scowls and then her glare becomes cold and appraising. "You kind of look like Cissa," she says after her eyes look me over.

"Cissa?" I say in confusion as I mess with the drooping lace sleeves of the dress. Magic is a magnificent thing, so things like this never really creep me out. I just find it interesting. "Who is Cissa?"

"Who is your mother?"

I frown because we seem to be going around in circles… maybe I should go back down stairs. "Ginevra Malfoy, of course," I say arrogantly as she tilts her nose up at the name.

"I've never heard of her… did she marry into the Malfoy name?" she asks snootily and I sigh. This is getting boring. I do terribly hate boring things.

"Yes, my daddy is Draco Malfoy," I say because people usually know who he is.

Her smile lights up. "Ah, now, him I know. So, Cissa's little boy is all grown up? You know, Bella was always very envious of the fact that her little sister was married to such a powerful man before she was."

"Cissa," I repeat again. "Oh, Narcissa… you're talking about my Grandmother…"

"Indeed," she says with a snap, like I was stupid. "I've never seen a Malfoy with that shade of hair before," she says, eyeing my curls distastefully. "What was your mother? A Macnair perhaps?"

"Er, no, my mother was… is… a Weasley."

"Oh, well," she looks disgusted again and I'm insulted. What a funny thing, to be insulted by a mirror. "That is something, isn't it? Is little Draco a blood traitor now? That would just be terrible! Why, Lucius would just die, wouldn't he?"

"He already did," I say, and then I remember the name on the box. "Are you Bellatrix then?"

"Yes and no," she says as she waves me off. "That dress has a reflective compliment charm on it and here I am. Wasn't she beautiful?" she asks with a proud smile as she twirls around to show me the dress that I'm wearing, only on her it looks like a perfect fit. I can't decide how old I think this reflection is… maybe mid twenties… "Of course, I was only supposed to be for Bella, but since you were rude enough to wear her dress without asking, here I am. She would probably tear you to bits for doing this, by the way. Where is she now?"

"I think she's dead too," I say seriously, trying to sound sympathetic because I wouldn't know how to handle a mirror crying. "She's been gone for a while now."

"And Cissa?"

"My grandmother is dead as well," I tell her with a frown. "Sorry," I add because I think it would be polite. To be honest, I don't know the proper etiquette for a mirror, but I can try.

"So, you are Draconis' daughter, hm?" she says after a few moments pause. I nod my head because I already told her that minor detail. "Yes, I can see it, turn around then." I spin around, feeling quite silly. "Yes, you have a Black woman's body. All three of the Black sisters were thin, tall, and beautiful. How old are you?"

I answer her with an impatient voice because now I feel like I'm wasting my time. What if Cassius is awake now and I'm too busy talking to this fuddy old mirror to know? "I should get going now," I tell her as I start to take the pearl tiara off. "It was nice… seeing you or whatever."

"Oh, don't go yet. I haven't spoken to someone in such a terribly long time."

"That's because you're a spell," I tell her bluntly. "I could get my Mom to counter you so you can be done."

"Your mother is a Weasley. I'm surprised she's not a squib," she sneers and I narrow my eyes.

"For your information, my mother is the greatest witch in all of England," I say even though that's probably not true, I still need to say it. She merely lifts and eyebrow and then her face changes to something more approachable.

"Maybe you're right. Why were you up here in the first place?" she asks as she looks around the room I'm standing in. I can tell a Slytherin 'change the subject' tactic when I see one, but I won't call her… it… out on it. "I'm a very good listener." She says eagerly as she sits down on the floor and puts her elbow on her knees. "I use to listen to Bella all the time."

"You mean this Bella woman would just put on this old dress just to talk to you whenever she felt like it?"

She nods her head. "She hated her husband, you see, and she was desperately in love with someone else…. It was very exciting and I gave her a needed boost here and there."

"That was good of you," I tell blandly and she smiles.

"What's your name?"

"Evelyn," I say honestly and her eyes light up.

"What's your story, Evelyn?"

Perhaps it would be nice to have a friend that won't confuse me with feelings. I mean, Jeremiah is just grand, but he is a little daft sometimes when it comes to emotions and the other girls I'm friends with I wouldn't trust enough to spill my secrets to. This is like a built in friend… how cool. I doubt many other people have their very own dress wearing friend charm.

I smile before sitting on the floor in front of her and telling the whole story about Cassius being dead and then coming back to life. The whole time she watches me with rapt attention as I speak, with her head in her hands and her lips graced with a barely there smile like an amused cat. When I'm finished and the girl knows everything there is to know about the Cassius story, she leans forward, so far I think she may go through the mirror, but she doesn't.

"I've only known one wizard who came back from the dead," she says seriously and then her smile becomes dark and twisted. "Oh, yes, I know all about him."

"Who?" I ask, clueless. I am usually in the loop but the past few days I just feel like a total airhead.

She looks down at the dress she's wearing, the same dress I'm wearing, before turning back to me with that wicked smile.

"Would you like me to tell you about him?"

"Yes—" I start, but I get cut off by a house-elf's voice.

"Miss Evie," the elf squeaks and I sigh in annoyance before turning around and facing the pitiful creature. "The Mr. Jeremiah is up and wanting to know where you are," the old creature states and I nod my head.

"Oh, yes, tell him I will be down in a second." I say. I stand up and I turn back to the mirror. "Sorry, but I have to go," I say to her disgruntled look.

I start to remove the dress as she watches me with glacier eyes. "You should come back and speak to me again," she says calmly but even I can hear the desperation in her voice. "I have a lot of interesting things to say."

When the dress is off, she's gone, and I quickly get dressed again. I don't spare the charmed dress a second thought as I go bounding down the stairs to meet Jeremiah.

I'm tempted to make a welcome home sign for my brother, but I refrain as I sit beside Jeremiah and wait for news from my family.

What a wonderful and amazing day this is turning out to be.

Lavinia

I can feel him staring at me. I try to hold on to sleep a little longer with my eyes closed and my hands tucked under my cheek, but when I feel his soft fingers brush hair away from my face, I smile.

"Have you counted each freckle yet?" I ask tiredly, keeping my eyes closed but knowing Byron will be right there when I open them. I've never actually seen him sleep besides that one time when I jumped his bones at the Potter's house. Usually I wake up to him working… or staring at me… which would be creepy if I didn't like him so much.

"That would be like counting the stars," he says in his deep voice and when I crack my eyes open I see a little smile on his face. He's lying on his side, facing me and matching my position with his hands under his pillow. We're both still fully clothed in the outfits from St. Mungos. Everything is still on but our shoes. "You have so many," he says and his eyes soften as he takes me in.

I smile and turn on my back to stretch my arms above my head and yawn. When Dad told us all to go home, I wasn't sure what to do with myself until Byron asked me to go home with him. Of course, I followed him, thinking we were going back to Bailey's… but we ended up going back to the decrepit flat that he used to share with Cassius. There was a notice on the door and he said it was because he needed to pay his rent which made me feel weird as we went inside. It was just as terrible as I remembered, only Cass' room is empty now, leaving it bare with just a bed frame and empty closet. The house elves must have cleaned it out and it made me wonder what would happen now if Cassius came back.

What a weird and wonderful thought.

"You would have a hell of time with Gavin and my Mother," I say with a yawn as I run my fingers against the navy blue cotton sheets of Byron's small bed. There's barely enough room for two adults on this twin size mattress, but we're making it work. "They have more freckles than I do."

I just have some light spots dusted across the bridge of my nose and cheeks and a few scattered along my shoulders. It's nothing in comparison to my mother and brother.

"I bet, but I wouldn't care to try," he says softly. "I find yours fascinating."

"Have we heard from my parents yet?" I ask as I turn back to him and give him a tired smile.

He shakes his head and lets his hand brush against mine. "Not yet."

A thought strikes me and I sit up straight. "Oh, Byron, what about that Paige woman?" I ask because she was in the same boat as Cassius. What if her window was closing and no one helped her? How terrible.

"Bailey's on it," he says tiredly, not sounding as panicked as I am. "I got a letter while you were sleeping. She was still unconscious."

"Did he give her the potion?"

"Yes."

"How did he get the flower?" I ask because we had to go to a bloody drug dealer. He shrugs and I frown before asking another question. "Did she wake up too?"

"He didn't say," he whispers as he pushes my shoulder down so I'll lay back.

I scoot closer to him so that or faces are only an inch or two away. Once I'm satisfied that the other woman might be taken care of I allow myself become comfortable again. "Are you happy now?" I ask softly as I bring a hand up to play with the hair by his ear, letting my fingers go to his skin so I can outline the contours of his handsome face. He's officially accomplished his goal. No one thinks Cassius is dead now and he's out of the tomb. Everyone believes him. "I know you were disappointed that he was already awake before we came… but your potion still helped him. Mom said it saved his life. Are you happy?"

"I will be," he says, equally as soft as he studies my face. He leans forward and kisses my cheek, causing my eyes to slide shut as he plants his body right against mine. "Do you believe in God?" He asks when he gently pulls back.

I open my eyes so I can look at him. "Which one?" I joke and he smiles. That wonderful barely there smile that melts my heart.

"Anyone."

"I don't know," I say with a shrug. I wasn't raised in a religious house and no one I knew really cared that much. The people who did seemed to believe different things anyways. "Do you?"

"No," he answers solidly and I raise my eyebrows. "I don't, but I know that we all have a soul. It has to go somewhere, right?"

"I suppose so." I say as he gets up on his elbow, propping his head up with his hand so he's above me. "Why do you ask?"

"Have you ever heard of a Horcrux?"

I furrow my brows as I bite my lip, trying to remember if I've ever heard that word before. "No… no, I don't think so. What is it?"

"It's very dark magic," he explains as his glowing blue eyes look into mine. "The Dark Lord used it to insure his survival… his immortality. A Horcrux is a magical object that holds a part of a soul. Voldemort did that, so even if his body was gone, a part of him would stay on earth, able to take over so he could never really die."

"How do you know that?" I ask as I stare at his strong jaw and the stubble on his face. He needs to shave.

"Harry told me," he says as he looks at the wall over my shoulder…the crackling beige wall that I'm afraid to touch because I'm afraid it will give me hepatitis or some other bad medical condition. "Knowledge is power, Lavinia," he tells me and I nod my head because of the intense way he's looking. "Voldemort wouldn't have been able to be half as powerful as he was if people knew about Horcrux's. Nobody wants to know about things like that until it hits them in the face."

"I didn't even know that was possible," I say honestly. The idea of a soul just seemed like such a fairy tale, not a real thing that could be contained or identified.

"To make one, you have to commit murder," he says and my eyes shoot to his. "Taking someone's life is the only act a human being can commit that could tear the soul apart."

"That's horrid," I say as I shake my head.

"I think…" he starts and I touch his arm so he'll continue. "I think that earring on the statue might be a Horcrux."

"How?" How, why, what, where, when? All of those are questions I want to ask right now, but I'm still too tired to focus.

He rubs his lips and then he places his hand on my waist, letting his fingers run up and down my curves as he thinks about what he wants to say. "It's just a theory, but it might be a very primitive version of one. That would explain why Cassius' body never decomposed and why he could come back. It's all very confusing," he says as his eyes shift to mine.

"You think a part of Cassius' soul went into that earring?" It sounds ridiculous. He nods his head tightly, like he wasn't sure. "But he didn't kill anyone," I say slowly. "You said you had to kill someone."

He's silent for a while as his fingers play over my hip and waist and arm. "No." He says but he doesn't say anything else so I let my eyes close because I'm still so very tired.

I lay on my back and try to let myself fall into a light sleep while his fingers work around my body, but I can still feel him staring at me, and when I feel him kiss me I smile against his lips.

"You know, you and I would probably be married with children by now."

Now, that makes my eyes open and I stare up at him. "What?" I say and it came out snappish and short because that was the last thing I expected to hear from him. Weren't we talking about souls and dark lords and stupid statues?

"If Voldemort would have remained in power, they probably would have brought back arranged pureblood marriages like they did during the first war." He says, bending down to kiss my neck. "Of course, you being a Malfoy girl would have placed you high on the wanted list for potential suitors."

"And you think you would have gotten me?" I ask as he situates himself on top of me and I part my legs so he can settle in-between them. This conversation is strange, but I'm trying not to show it because I like it when touches me like he is now.

"Probably not," he says as he sits up to pull his shirt off, throwing it on the floor before settling back on top of me. "My grandfather was a muggle on my mother's side, so that would have counted against me. But I would have worked my way up the Death Eater ladder until I could claim you."

"You think I would want to marry a ruthless Death Eater?" I ask, taking a pause to kiss his lips before pulling back.

He looks at me seriously as he unbuttons my jeans. The sun is shining in front of the window above the bed, making him look positively heavenly. "You wouldn't have much of a say in the matter." I frown but he ignores it. "Like I was saying, if life would have been different, we probably would have been married a few years already with a couple of kids to show for it." He kisses my stomach. "I would have gotten a job at the Ministry during the day and then I would come home and we would have dinner together and I would take you to my bed…I would always take you to bed," he says as his deep voice gets lower. "Always."

I furrow my brows as he slides off my pants. The casual way he's speaking about this is kind of worrisome to me, like he had thought of it before and had it all planned out. "And you would want me that way?" I ask softly. "With out my consent?"

"I would want you anyway I could have you," he says seriously as he tugs off my sweater and the shirt underneath it, leaving me in my bra and knickers.

"You would force yourself on me?" I ask, kind of fearfully because I know the death eater horror stories… some of them from my parents own history.

He grabs my wrists and I take a short intake of breath at the sudden movement as his hand crushes my watch into my arm. His eyes become level with mine as he hovers over me and I hold my breath because of the intense way he's staring.

"You can't rape the willing," he says and for some reason the blunt way he said it makes me laugh.

"What makes you think I'd willingly sleep with a murdering death eater?"

"Because I make you wet."

My eyebrows shoot up in surprise at his words and he laughs, letting go of my wrists and settling on his forearms. I've never heard someone talk like that and it makes me blush. He smiles again, before kissing me and pulling back.

"I have always wanted you," he says seriously as he sits back on his heels to look at my body. The body that I'm trying hard not to want to cover up because it's day time and he can see everything. "Even when you were a girl I knew," He bends down and kisses my hip with his hands on my waist. "I knew when you grew up you would be…"

He trails off as he licks and kisses his way up to my breasts, but I want him to finish his sentence. "Would be what?" I ask as I put my fingers in his hair while he reaches behind me to unclasp my bra. I arch my back to give him more room with out event thinking about my actions.

"Mine," he says simply. That makes me freeze and my fingers fall from his hair because I know how dangerous possessive words like that can be. My parents are a prime example of that and even if my mother loves my father now… it shouldn't have happened that way. You belong with something, you shouldn't belong to them. "Even if we never were together," he continues as he slides the bra down my arms, seeming to have missed my tenseness. "Even if you loved someone else, I knew that no matter what, you would be mine."

"Oh," is all I can think of saying as he kisses my body and touches me with his long fingers. For some reason I feel uneasy with that word. It feels dangerous to me.

I look at the ceiling as he unbuckles his pants and I do nothing as he slides them down his legs. "Lavinia," he says to get my attention as he props himself up on his forearms above me so that he can look into my eyes. When I do finally look at him he takes my hand and places it on his chest, right above his beating heart. "Yours," he says softly before dipping down and kissing me, holding my hand steadily against his heartbeat.

Now, had it been any other guy I would have thought that was corny, but because it was Byron I felt my heart skip a beat before warming considerably towards him. I found myself kissing him back with a vengeance, feeling empowered by the newly achieved confidence in our relationship, no matter how fleeting it may be.

He takes my hand again and pulls it below the sheets to touch something else on his body that makes me blush. "Yours," he repeats with smile, sounding more amused by the expression on my face.

"Wait," I whisper as I pull my hand back from his hardening body. "I don't think…" I trail off because now is not the time to do what he's about to do. My brother just crawled out of a coffin not too long ago for Christ sakes.

"I need you," he says, sliding his body along mine to show me just how much he needs me. Well, maybe right now might be the right time… "Today has worked for us," he says and I guess he's right. It just doesn't feel like such a celebration right now with things so up in the air. I don't have that feeling of completion yet. "Don't say no right now. I want you so much it hurts sometimes."

What could I say to that?

I just stare at him and then I nod my head after he presses his lips against mine. I try not to think about how things are going to change now that Cassius may be coming back as he slides inside of me and I try to get the terrible image of Byron as a dominating Death Eater out of my head as he pushes up on his hands and drills into me, which was an easy thing for him to do because he always turns me on, no matter what he does. I think I might be addicted to him.

"I love you," he says deeply. His voice sounds steady and controlled even though I'm sure I wouldn't sound so solid and I'm not even the one doing all the work.

I smile and pull him down for a kiss. "I love you too," I whisper against his lips as I wrap my legs around his hips.

I'm finding that sex can be used for many different things. For comfort, for need, for love, and for pure lust… it's quite an interesting act and when Byron changes angles and hits something inside of me that sends sparks through my body, I'm convinced it's one of the greatest things in the world. I love being so close to him and I love feeling my skin against his, knowing this is as close as two people can get to one another. He's going slow and deep and it was so different from the hard shag session we had in that tavern on Diagon Alley the other day that I almost couldn't believe it. I feel every movement and he kisses me gently all over my body. I think this is what making love is… this is how you show someone you love them through sex.

I enjoy watching the facial expressions he makes as well. Like right now, he looks like he's in pain with his jaw tight and his brows furrowed as he pumps into me. When he slows down, he lets his face relax and he opens his eyes to smile as we make eye contact.

"Soft," he mumbles as he lets his head rest against my neck.

"What?" I say with a smile as I close my eyes, enjoying the friction and the closeness of his body.

"Every thing about you is soft," he says and his voice is breathless and strained now….that cool control he had before seems to have left him. "Your hair, your voice, your skin," he brings a hand up to my breast as he kisses my neck. "Your body…" His breath hitches and I tilt my hips because I'm starting to feel that wild build up inside of my body. He pulls up to give me an opened mouthed kiss on the lips. "Your lips… Everything about you is soft."

"I can't say the same about you," I say with a smile and he laughs. I didn't know you could laugh during sex, but I like the sound of it.

I grip his arms and let my eyes slam shut as he works his body into mine with a silly smile on my face. He lifts himself from me again, propping himself up on his hands. "Look at me."

The strained demand surprises me so I crack my eyes open to stare into his. I lift an eyebrow playfully but he looks so serious that I tilt my head when he stops moving all together. I really didn't want him to stop because I was building up to something wonderful, so I have to stop myself from yelling at him. Which is something I wouldn't do in a normal situation, but this is not a normal situation to be in.

He's just staring at me and I almost ask him what he's doing, but he bends down to kiss me, a hard kiss against the lips, before pulling back again.

"Never leave me."

I nearly start laughing at his silly statement. "Please start moving," I say with a whine in my voice, ignoring his silly demand. "I was almost there."

He narrows his eyes and he thrusts hard, just once before stopping again. I gasp, but he doesn't continue. That earns him a glare. "Say that you won't."

"Won't what?" I say as I push damp hair away from my face. I'm a little frazzled, to be honest, and my body is still humming. I don't feel like having a serious conversation mid shag.

"I can't lose you now that I've had you." I sigh when he starts moving again, with those deep slow thrusts that are so exquisitely frustrating. "Things are going to change, but I don't want this to change."

"Byron, I'm not going to leave," I say as I try to lift my hips up to meet his aggravatingly slow pace. I close my eye and bite my lip when he stops moving yet again. I just might smack him. "Please." I almost want to cry in frustration.

"Please what?"

I open my eyes to glare at him and notice the devious little glint in his eyes as he smirks at me. I try to turn us so I can be on top and in power because I think he's abusing his, but he's stronger than me and he holds me down with his hands on my wrists as he shakes his head and smiles. I could easily kill his fun by telling him to stop, but I kind of like playing like this. It feels fun and normal and that's hard to come by with me and him.

"Now, what were you asking for?"

"There's no point," I sigh and look away. "It's already gone."

"Oh, I can easily fix that," he says as he releases one of my wrists so he can put his hand in-between our bodies. My watch digs painfully into my other wrist that he's still holding, but I ignore the pain as I look into his eyes. "You see, all you ladies have this place on your bodies that gets you all hot and bothered," he says as he touches said place with his fingers, causing my body to respond noticeably as my cheeks heat up.

"That's not fair," I say as he continues to work me up while I grip the pillow under my head with my free hand. He moves a little and then stops. I almost slap him again. "What gets you all hot and bothered?" It was a stupid question considering he was still rock solid and still inside of me, but I wanted to distract myself.

"Every time I look at you I get hot and bothered," he says with a sweet smile on his face.

"That must be uncomfortable for you because you look at me often," I state honestly.

"You're just so lovely," he whispers as his eyes look over my face. "It's hard not to stare at someone who is so absurdly good looking."

I laugh, not totally sure if that's a compliment, but then I pout because his fingers are doing amazing things but I'm still not satisfied. "Oh, please move," I say while arching my back to press my chest into his.

"Are you begging now?"

"I will never let you get into this position again if you don't start moving."

"Hm, nice," he says with an amused laugh as he pulls his fingers away from doing amazing things to a part of my body I didn't even know I had. "Sometimes I forget what house you were sorted into. Do all Slytherin's take a class in blackmail?"

Even though I love when Byron talks and smiles and acts like a real person, I don't want him to right now. I bring my hands up to his hair, well, I bring my one free hand up to his hair because he's still pining the other one down like a brute.

"Please, Byron," I say softly with my lips pouting. "Please make love to me?" I'm not going to say the F word or any other crude language people use to describe sex. So if that's what he wanted then he's out of luck.

A full smile breaks his face and I mirror his reaction because he has such a beautiful smile. "I suppose," he says with a pretend sigh as he starts moving again, frustratingly slow, I might add. "I suppose I should put you out of your misery, lover." I smirk at the name, remembering awkwardly calling him that at that jewelry store because the sales girl was all over him.

When he starts moving faster and harder, I close my eyes and smile every time I feel his lips against my skin. It takes a moment for my body to get used to it because he was so still for so bloody long, but we eventually fall into a familiar rhythm again. Things feel lighter now… I may have my brother back and he may have his best friend and we did it together. He's right, things may change, but I didn't want this to change either.

Out of no where a panicked and rational part of me reminded me that I was not on any kind of potion or pill. My eyes snap open as he kisses me as I think about getting pregnant. Oh, damn. The first time Mom gave me the morning after pill… but the second and third time I didn't even think about it. How could I be so stupid?

"Pull out before you finish," I say, successfully killing the light and sweet mood.

"What?" he whispers in a daze, barely even paying attention to me.

I push his shoulders so he'll stop thrusting into me and when he does he gives me a very strange little look of annoyance. "I don't want to have a baby," I say with genuine fear in my voice. If I became pregnant, Byron would be killed and I would be locked inside of the Manor forever, never allowed to leave. A horrible thought entered my mind—what if I was pregnant already?

"Just pull out."

He closes his eyes and his arms shake. Apparently he could handle being still when he was teasing me, but he seemed to have been pretty intent on finishing what he started and it was hard for him to stop.

"Are you serious?" he asks with his eyes still closed, but raising one of his dark eyebrows.

"Yes," I whisper because I don't want him to be mad at me for just now thinking about this. I really can be a fool sometimes. He starts moving again as I let my feet fall flat against the mattress. I push his shoulders. "Byron, no," I say because he's not stopping. "Stop."

He keeps going and I start to panic.

"Byron, stop!" I say with more force.

"Damnit," he says in a strained voice before pulling out of me and then I feel wetness all over my inner thighs. I resist the urge to say ew. "I'm sorry," he whispers with his eyes closed as his body relaxes. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," I say because it was my fault.

He moves so quickly that I'm not totally sure what he's doing but when his face ends up between my legs I try to push him away.

"No," I say because what he is about to do doesn't seem… well, it makes me uncomfortable. He wipes off his release from my legs with the bed sheet and I make a mental note to avoid touching that later.

I try to close my legs, but he puts his hands on my knees to keep them apart. "I want to do this," he says seriously. "You're just going to have to lay back and take it."

"But that's…" I try to pull his head up. "That's gross."

"You are not going to think it's gross after I'm finished," he says in his deep voice. A wicked smile comes to his handsome face and then he licks me there.

I think I might die.

I cover my face but I lay my head back anyways and close my eyes. I like to kiss him, but I doubt I'll want to kiss him after he's been down there. There's just something very unsanitary about that and my hips jump up when I feel his fingers slide into me. This new experience brings a whole new bought of feelings and sensations… and disgusting sounds, I might add. I pull the pillow out from under my head to cover my face because, even though it feels good, I feel embarrassed.

"Come on," I hear him whisper before dipping down again.

My cheeks heat up and when I feel that thing coming back to me I inhale deeply against the pillow, feeling extremely unclean. "Oh," I say softly. I refuse to look at him while he's down there but I'm sure he's smirking. I even make a strange moaning noise when I feel that 'before the bursting' feeling of warmness and tingling. "Oh," I say again just so I don't scream out after he uses his skilled fingers and tongue. I remove the pillow from my face so I can breathe because it seems to get harder and harder with each turn of his clever movements.

"Oh," I say as I suck in a deep breath and I bring my hands down to his hair, feeling that blinding electricity that accompanies the wonderful things Byron can do to me. "Oh!" I say again and I'm mortified that I sounded so loud and that my hips lifted to press against his face.

"No, no, no, stop," I say because I'm acting like a mad woman. I tug on his hair until he looks up. "No," I say even though I don't want him to stop.

"You're so close," he says with a charming smile, still working those wonderful fingers of his. "Just close your eyes," he says softly. "You'll be done in a minute."

I do as he says and I clench my eyes shut, letting him do whatever it is he's doing down there. It is a pleasurable experience and he was right. I was so close. I whisper his name and clutch his shoulders in a painful grip as I finish, feeling those sparks that ignite from the center of my body, spreading out for one blinding moment until that after glow feeling of ease surrounds me. I relax against the bed, not realizing how tense I was and he hovers above me with smug smile on his face.

"See, that wasn't so bad," he says as he licks his lips. I might faint, but when he bends downs to kiss me I turn my head and crinkle my nose.

"No kissing until you brush your teeth," I say even though I did enjoy what he just did. I don't want to know what I taste like.

"Why? You tasted delicious."

"Oh, yuck," I say and he laughs as he rests beside me, looking all handsome and disheveled even after doing a dirty sexual act to me. I should take a shower.

"Oh, yuck," he repeats as he lets his fingers touch my stomach. "But you liked it."

I won't admit that… but when I notice his naked body next to mine, I glance at him from the corner of my eyes. "Do you want me to…" I look down at his body. It's only polite to ask right? Since he did it for me… "Do you me to do that for you?" I've never done that, but I could learn.

"I'm alright now," he says and I guess it's the truth considering what he had to clean up between my legs. Oh, yuck again.

To be honest, I really didn't want to do it because even though I loved Byron and I loved his body, there was still something scary about that area. His was the only one I had ever seen and I was still getting used to it. There was no way I was going to do that during the day when the lights were on. My Witches of London books were full of sexually promiscuous teenagers who fell in love and just had sex all the time whenever and however they wanted… none of them seemed to be shy or self conscious about the things they were doing. I don't think that's very believable anymore.

I feel him put some hair behind my ear so I look into his eyes as I settle my heart beat and try not to blush. "We need to… we're going to have to do something about the whole birth control thing," he says awkwardly, looking at the wall. This makes him uncomfortable and I find that endearing. "I didn't even realize… It was my mistake to just assume that… anyways," he finishes rambling to look at me. "I'm going to want to sleep with you again. I'll pay for it… you know, since it's my fault you need it."

I nod my head. I wish it would be as simple as a contraceptive spell or charm. I have a suspicion that adults purposely hide the existence of one so kids would have consequences if they had sex.

"We'll figure something out, okay?" he says, kissing my forehead and pulling the blankets up to cover our bodies. I kick the bed sheet to our feet, opting to just use the black comforter.

"Okay," I smile as I run my fingers up and down the back of his arm, wondering if I'll be able to actually do more things than just the comfortable missionary sex I was growing used to. I like the feeling of him on top of me but I can't wait to try all those different positions that I've heard about. Again, I'm reminded with that thought that I've turned into some kind of sexual deviant, but I don't care.

"Byron?" I say softly as I kiss his neck as he settles by my side again. My mind is still working even with the mind blowing orgasm he just gave me.

"Hm?"

He doesn't move and I can feel his warm breath against my ear because he's so close.

"Why didn't you tell me we were going to your Grandmothers?" I ask curiously as I think of that decrepit old drug dealer that I cursed, who just happened to be one of Byron's relatives.

"Because it's embarrassing," he says and then he sighs as he rolls onto his back, resting by my side with his hand behind his head. He rubs his face with his free hand before staring at the cracked ceiling. "It's bad enough that my mother is rude to you… I just didn't feel like telling you my Grandmother was a drug dealer."

I turn onto my stomach as I my place my chin on my folded forearms so I can watch his profile. He's sweating and his cheeks are flushed as pink as his swollen lips. I take some guilty pleasure in that. "Was she terrible to you when you were a boy?" I ask as I glance at him from the corner of my eye while he shifts his body on the small bed.

"They all were terrible," he whispers and then he turns his head to me. "My father had the same scars on his back. She gave them to him and he gave them to me. That's a great family legacy, isn't it?"

I turn on my side and kiss his shoulder. "You are a good man now, Byron," I tell him because sometimes I know he doesn't think that. It's like he's just waiting for the poison of his family to finally infect him and make him evil.

"I have an uncle too," he says as he turns on his side to face me, getting into the position we were in before we took a break to have sex...or oral sex… I don't know exactly how to put it. How very scandalous of us. "He's in Azkaban… that picture you saw, the one of the bald man with the moustache." I nod my head, remembering the unfortunate looking man. "That's him. We use to have muggle born servants when I was little. I remember once, during Christmas, I saw him beat one of our maids with a silver candle stick. There was blood everywhere and I couldn't even recognize her face when he was finished."

I feel a sympathetic pull in my chest as I put one of my legs over his. "You saw him do this?" He nods his head, like it was an everyday thing to witness. "How old were you?"

"Five… four maybe," he says with a shrug as he props his head up with his hand.

"That's terrible," I say, thinking of him as a boy, having to see something so horrid. I take his hand and play with his fingers "Why did he do it?"

He shakes his head. "Because he thought she stole his pocket watch. My father watched him do it too and did nothing to stop him. Of course he didn't. Later that night he found his bloody watch… it was in his pocket." He looks away and narrows his eyes. "Then they laughed about it. That girl died, I don't even remember her name… but she died for nothing and they laughed. She was nice to me," he says softly, like he was remembering it. "We weren't allowed to talk to the servants, but she would give me sweets when no one was looking."

I let his hand drop so I can touch his face. "I'm sorry you had to go through that," I say honestly, but even I know this is one of his less haunting memories because it doesn't involve his abuse directly.

"How can one family be so sick?" he asks me seriously and I shrug my shoulder because it makes me think of my own family and the dark past that surrounds us.

I want to tell him that he's not sick, that he doesn't have to worry about any of that, but the conversation I had with his mother stands out in my mind and I can't shake it. The more I'm with him, the closer I feel, but there's still this unbalanced part of him that kind of scares me. Even that shine he had in his eyes when he was talking about Voldemort winning and being in power… it was strange and it worried me. Every generation likes to think they'll be better than the one before them… but we all have to live with the scars and Byron has enough for an army.

"Your Mom said that you weren't taking your medication," I say and when his eyes snap to mine, I try not to flinch because he looks panicked, worried, embarrassed, and upset. "She also said you weren't seeing your therapist."

"She told you all of that," he says worriedly as something new and insecure swims in his eyes.

"Is that… shouldn't you keep doing that?" I ask because I'm not totally sure if he needs to. I don't know much about mental health and, well, I'm not sure how to approach this.

If he had Dragon Pox I would tell him to go see a healer, but what he has I can't see or identify. I don't know how to handle it and all I can see are the rows of medication bottles that he had to take in Spain. He stares at me, and then he looks away. I take his hand and trace one of the thin white scars on his wrist.

"When did you do this?" I ask because out of all the scars on his body, those are the only self inflicted ones. If the medication and the healers keep him from repeating something like that, I would want him to keep doing it. Maybe that's why his Mother was so worried.

"Stop looking at me like that."

"Why did you do this?" I change my question the slightest bit, but his worried face falls flat and he becomes shut off and closed from me.

"Stop," he says snatching his wrist away from me and sitting up, "looking at me like that," he finishes before turning around and showing me his back as his feet land on the hard wood floor.

Considering I wasn't sure Byron had any emotions, he sure could go through a range of them in a moment.

"I don't think I'm looking at you any certain way," I say, sitting up as well while pulling the blanket up to cover my nudity. Now that the mood isn't light and intimate anymore, I feel silly being naked. Considering what we just did, I think it's strange that I don't feel like I should touch him either. "I was just asking a question."

"You know what I liked about your brother," he says as he pulls on his pants and buckles them in haste, like he was angry. "He never looked at me like you are right now," he says as he stands up. "He never looked at me like that." He walks out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

I glare at the doorway as I sit up, pulling the blanket with me to cover my body. What the hell was that? He has a pile of clean clothes folded on his desk so I pick up the first red t-shirt that I see and pull it on as I stand from his bed. It has a golden Gryffindor lion on the front and the Gryffindor motto printed across it in loopy letters. I feel weird wearing another houses color, but I don't change as I leave the room to find him. So I can scold him for acting so short with me and making me feel bad. I'm already confused enough with this brother stuff. I don't need him adding to it.

When I stomp out into the hallway, I notice that the bathroom door is shut and the shower is on so I try to twist the handle to open the door, but it's locked. How terribly frustrating he is. I slump my shoulders and glare at the door before glancing at the closed door right across from Byron's. Does this weird little fight with Byron matter right now? Now that my brother, who everyone thought was dead, is at St. Mungo's breathing, with healthy vital signs?

I guess not.

I suppose I'll apologize when the grump gets out of the shower and I sigh before going back to his room because it seems like the cleanest place in this dingy flat. I could always go home… but it doesn't hold the same feeling that it used to anymore. I think of the Manor as I go over to Byron's desk, sorting through some of his papers to pass the boredom as he moodily takes a shower. On top of the pile is the letter he must have gotten from Bailey this morning and I put that to the side because it doesn't tell me anything of interest.

A pink piece of parchment catches my eye because, well, because it's pink and I gently lift it from under the stack of sandy colored parchments and ink stained quills. The handwriting is a woman's and I nearly dismiss it to look through some of his books, but the name on the bottom gets my attention because it's no one I know… so I sit down on his wobbly desk chair as I read it.

Byron!

I frown at the exclamation point, because even though I love him dearly, he is not one of those guys people are overly excited to see.

I haven't heard from you in ages. So, I'm sure you can imagine my surprise when a public owl perched on my window sill to delver a letter from you. As always, I was blown away by your exemplary use of the English language. You can always fit so much emotion into two sentences. It simply amazes me.

I think she's being sarcastic.

Well, I have to say that I won't be free this weekend because, unlike you, I have a real job. So the casual shag I'm sure you were hinting towards will have to wait. This is me calling in a raincheck for your midnight hookup call, because even though you are terribly strange about keeping your clothes on and talking about things in general, I still think you are one of the most lovely men I have ever been with and look forward to seeing you again.

We'll work something out.

With all my lust and love,

Eva

"With all my lust and love," I repeat out loud in utter disgust.

I hate this Eva woman, I've decided. She's probably skinny… I frown as I throw the letter back on the desk because, even though I'm feeling that twinge of jealousy in my chest, I can't be upset with him for this letter… I was dating someone else when we first slept together so I can't rightly be mad if he's been seeing other people before. Even though it hurts and I actually am upset, I have no right to be, so I try to calm myself and pretend like I didn't read that stupid letter. I look around the room and try to find something to focus on, but I can't and I look back at the pink parchment on the desk. Just out of curiosity I check the date at the top of the letter and bite my lip.

"Last month?" I say out loud like a mad person, talking to myself. Last month wouldn't make any sense because last month we were together.

This would have been sent right around the time I had my horse accident and we left for Spain. Byron's taking forever in the shower doing whatever the hell it is he's doing in there and I ball up that stupid letter and throw it against the ugly beige wall. My anger might be unjustified because I have no idea what is actually going on with the woman who wrote the letter, but since he's angry with me right now it makes it easier to be upset.

The water stops in the bathroom as I sit on the bed and pull my knees up to my chest, pulling the shirt over my legs to cover my modesty even though he just saw and kissed… and licked… just about everything on me. When he comes back into the bedroom he has a towel wrapped around his hips and his hair has been towel dried, meaning it's still damp and as messy as hell. He ignores me as he goes to his drawers and starts pulling clothes out to put on. He doesn't even spare me a glance as I stare at the long scars on his back.

"I'm sorry, Byron," I say, even though I'm not sure if I should be apologizing, I don't want him to be mad at me. "I didn't mean to upset you."

He doesn't say anything as he pulls on a thin t-shit and I stretch out my legs, making them come free from the t-shirt cage I had them in.

"I think I'm going to go home," I say as he disappears back into the hallway to put on his pants and boxers. I just saw him totally naked. You think he could change in front of me.

"No," he says from the bathroom and I frown as I walk into the hallway to confront him. The door is partially closed and I can see him moving, putting on his clothes in the little sliver that's visible.

"No?" I walk to the doorway, confused.

"No, you aren't going to go home because I'm overacting," he says harshly and it takes me moment to actually process his words… he said he was overreacting, right? Not me? He opens the door and walks by me so I follow him into that disgusting living room with the lopsided furniture and dingy walls. "I shouldn't have snapped at you like that. You aren't leaving."

"Is this your attempt at an apology?" I ask as he sorts through mail left on his window sill.

"I got those scars when I was eighteen," he says, still not looking at me. "I didn't do it to kill myself," he says and I wince because I hate that he said it out loud. "I just did it one night when I was feeling bad and I liked the way it felt. It was stupid and I don't do it anymore."

"Okay," I say softly, taken aback by the blunt and sharp confession.

"And I can't think straight when I'm taking all of those pills… I can't feel anything. It dulls everything so I'm going to try to go without them for a while." He adds, looking everywhere but at me

I don't know if that's safe, but I'm going to trust that he knows what he's doing. I sigh and then I walk up to him, wrapping my arms around his torso and kissing the back of his neck. It was something that I had seen my Mother do to my father many times to comfort him.

"Thank you for telling me," I say because I know he really didn't want to. Those types of things are hard to admit.

"Do you still want to go home?" he asks carefully as a bird swoops towards the open window.

"I am home," I whisper so quietly I'm not sure if he could hear it because he didn't respond. I look at the owl that perches on the ledge, offering the letter tied to its leg to Byron. "Do you think I should write Chloe?" I ask quietly as he takes the letter and breaks the seal. "I don't think we parted on the best terms."

I don't remember much from her birthday party, but I do remember her being upset. "I would advise against it," he says softly as he unfolds the letter. "She is going to have a lot to say to you, so I suggest you wait for her to make the first move."

I nod my head and let my arms drop from his chest, but I keep my cheek pressed against his arm. "Who is that from?" I ask as he skims the contents of the letter. I didn't recognize the owl.

"Your parents," he says softly. "Cassius is awake."

We leave the flat right away but we weren't allowed to see him. He stayed there three more days for observation before coming home and I went back to the Manor afterwards because I felt like I should be with my family, but for some reason my father refused to talk to me…. He couldn't even look at me anymore and I was hurt and confused.

It made me stay longer to find out why.

Cassius

"I have always wondered what you would look like with red hair."

I smile a little before turning on the sink. "I'm afraid you'll never know. Red hair will stick out too, I think," I say as I bend down and put my head under the rushing water, letting the dark dye wash from my hair. The sound of the water blocks other noises from my ears until I pull back and shake my head, letting water droplets splatter against the white sink bowl.

"You could have asked, Cassius," Mom says as she walks further into the room, watching me run my fingers through my newly dyed hair. "I know how to do color charms."

I know how to do them too, but the healers told me to not use my magic too often. They said it was kind of like a muggle battery and after what I'd been through my magic would have to recharge. Of course, no one knows the full story because I refuse to tell them so they have no idea what they're talking about. They just know what I told them… and all that I told them was how I woke up in that coffin, scared almost to death.

"I don't mind doing it this way," I say as I stand up straight and turn off the sink. I accept the towel my mother hands to me and I shake it through my hair to dry it, rubbing my scalp and wiping off my face in the process.

"You don't have to go anywhere today," she says softly as she rests her body against the marble sink ledge beside me. "You can stay home for a little while longer."

I've been home for three weeks and I haven't left the house other than to go to St. Mungo's so healers can poke at me and try to figure out what happened to me. I'm like a new case study and every doctor in the area is jumping at the chance to check me out and categorize the new magic that I seemed to have caught myself with. That and the potion that Byron gave me could revolutionize the way they do medicine… or that's what they say. I have no freaking idea. If my father didn't own half of the hospital than I would probably be locked away in an observation tank the rest of my life.

"I need to get out of the house." I state steadily as I bring the towel down and I glance at the mirror. I've never seen myself with dark hair before and it makes me look like a whole different person.

"You even did your eyebrows," mom says gently as she takes me in. I nod my head and throw the towel down by the hamper for the elves to get later. "How are you feeling today? You look tired."

"I wish people would stop asking me that question," I say softly as I turn around and grab my shirt that I had folded over the towel rack. I slide it on and start buttoning the front as mom grabs the box of hair dye and reads the label. "I'm fine."

There's a long pause while I button my shirt and she reads the box before sighing. It catches my attention, so I glance at her over my shoulder.

"Dark Brown," she says as she scans the box. "I thought dying kits had more colorful names then just dark brown," she says before throwing it away.

"It's for men," I say and when she looks at me, I smile. "I doubt guys care about Carmel brown copper fusion whatever…"

She snorts before letting her eyes fall deeply into mine, like she was searching for some answers there. She hesitates a second before taking a step closer to me and pulling a stray hair off of my shirt. Then she turns and looks down at the sink while biting on her lower lip.

"I didn't know anything about babies when I had you," she says in a quiet voice as I watch her profile. She looks different to me now. There's something sadder about her and her eyes don't seem as bright. I look away when she glances at me because I hate thinking that the change is my fault. "I think your father assumed I did because I was from such a big family… but I was the youngest and I had never even been around a baby until I had you."

"You were always my baby, though," she says and she glances at me with a gentle smile. Her eyes are starting to water again and I look away because I'm already tired of seeing her cry. It hurts me because it's my fault. "There were days when I wouldn't even put you down. I once spent a whole day just memorizing your little face. You were such an adorable baby and so smart too."

I don't know why she's telling me this, but ever since I came home both her and my dad have gone into these weird trances around me where they act like I'm a ghost, someone still to be remembered but not present in the conversation. I hope they stop it soon because I will never get used to it.

"I imagine that was difficult," I say as I play with my wet locks of newly darkened hair. I hope it's a decent enough disguise to fool the press. I kind of want to get out without getting trampled by cameras and people wanting to know how I came back from the 'dead'. Granted, I could use a polyjuice potion and go as someone else completely, but there's a pride issue with that and I refuse to totally hide myself for a day out. "To have a baby so young," I elaborate.

"It was…. But I just loved you so much and most of the things came naturally." I nod my head and pretend I'm looking at things on the bathroom shelf so I won't have to face her directly. They always stare at me now and it's kind of annoying. I can't say I blame them because they thought I was gone for good… but it still makes me uncomfortable. "The first time you ever got sick I was so scared. You were just a little baby and I was here by myself with no way to contact anyone. I felt so helpless."

I finally look at her as her dark eyes study my face. "I'm sorry," I say because I can't imagine what she felt when I was gone. To me it was only a couple of days, but I was shocked to find out that to everyone else it was a couple months.

"That's the worst feeling," she says as her eyes dance over my face. She brings a hand up to her auburn hair and starts twirling a strand around her finger like she couldn't stand to have her hands idle around me. I know she wants to touch me again to make sure that I'm real. She comes into my room at night just to tuck me in like I was a little boy again, running her hands through my hair and kissing my cheek. She thinks I'm asleep when she does it, but I'm awake. I'm always awake now. "Knowing your child is in pain, but not able to do anything about it. It guts you."

"I'm not in pain," I tell her, only believing half of it. I wish I could reassure them, but that's just something I can't do right now. "I'm just glad to be out of that place."

"What place?" she asks as she furrows her brows.

I turn away again. I haven't told anyone about that island because a part of me thinks that it might have been made up. After all, no one can be two places at one time and according to everyone around me I was sealed up in a tomb the whole time I was having that messed up adventure on that frustrating Island. I don't want them to think I'm crazy as well. I run my fingers over the small scratch on my cheek, the one I got when I was running through the forest on the island to get away from those arrow wielding youths who wanted to kill us. Does that make everything real? I don't know, but I refused to let the healers heal it because it makes me feel sane.

"I have to get going."

There's a pause before she nods her head. "Just be careful and remember to meet your brother at five. Maybe you'll be able to talk some sense into him."

"Bye Mom," I say and I go to walk past her but she grabs my arm. I look at her with an eyebrow raised and a small smile comes to my face when she lifts her wand and dries my wet hair. "Thanks," I mutter, because I had forgotten what it was like to be around her. I forgot what it was like to be someone's little boy because I had been away from home for so long after I graduated from Hogwarts.

She leans up and kisses my cheek. "I miss the blonde already," she whispers before pulling back and smiling. "Come back soon."

"I will," I say because there is genuine fear in her voice and it's all because of me.

To be truthful, I think everyone is waiting for me to drop dead again.

I grab my cloak and clasp it around my neck before I leave through the front door, pass Evelyn who is on her way to the attic yet again to do god knows what, pass Lavinia's room where she's chewing on her lower lip, trying figure out how to get our father to speak to her again, and pass my Dad's study where he's looking up old acquaintances so he can find out who put the curse on the stone because I haven't told him anything I know.

The first place I go is my old flat, obviously all of my things have been moved out, but it was the last place I called home so I felt like I had to see it. I was able to find my key in a box of my things tucked away in my room at the Manor, so I didn't have to worry about using my wand to get it. When I push open the dingy door I cringe, not remembering it looking so terrible or unsafe. I guess when you're in it for so long it doesn't look as bad and I figure I could get used to it again. I'm surprised Byron still stayed here, to be honest. We never had much money and the fact that he had to cover my rent was a surprise.

I carefully walk over to the window that rests along the living room wall, showing a pleasant little scene of a back alley dumpster. It's one of those weird misty days where everything looks dull and the air seems chilly even though it's not all that cold and the yellowing blinds just add to the aesthetic quality of the overcast, dreary day.

"Who are you?"

I turn around to the familiar voice and smirk when I see Byron. I actually haven't seen him yet because only family was permitted to see me at St. Mungo's and for some reason my Dad refuses to permit him into the house.

"You missed me." I state, knowing without a doubt that those words are true.

"Your hair," he says as he looks at my new brown hair. In his hands is his journal and he crosses his arms over his chest as he looks me over. "I didn't recognize you at first."

"Yeah, well, that's the point."

He nods his head and just stares at me for a while. I'm tired of everyone staring at me all the bloody time.

"I'm glad you're back," he says softly and I nod my head, feeling that familiar swell in my chest that happens every time I see someone I was close to before this happened.

This feels like a hugging moment, but Byron doesn't hug so we just stand here, staring at each other.

"So, not to be a dick or anything… but what the hell did you do to my Dad to make him hate you so much?" I ask because whenever his name is mentioned my Dad turns cold. He's never been overly fond of Byron, because he's not overly fond of anyone, but he tolerated him, now he won't even do that.

He looks down and then sits on one of the old busted couches. I follow suit and sit across from him on the chair. "I'm glad you're back," he says. "I have missed you."

"Yeah," I say. "Don't avoid the question," I say because I'm tired of talking about me. That's all I do now… that's all anybody ever wants to do.

"How is your sister doing?" he asks instead of answering my question and I raise an eyebrow. Honestly, I wasn't expecting that question.

"Why?"

"I haven't seen her in a week."

"And you haven't seen me in months. Who cares?" I say with a shrug. I'm not totally blind, though. The pieces are starting to fall together. My father has always favored Lavinia as his little girl… but since I've been back he barely looks at her… and then he won't allow Byron to enter the manor… I'm not stupid. Something probably happened with that but I don't want to talk about it now.

"I do, actually," he says and when I stare at him he sits forward. "So, what was it like?" he asks with his blue eyes glowing.

"What was what like?" I ask as I sit back and cross my legs, trying to be normal again with my best friend.

"Being dead," he says bluntly.

I could tell him. I could tell him everything but for some reason I just can't right now.

"I really don't remember," I lie as I turn my neck and look out the window. "I think I'm going to check out my room."

I stand up and go towards it and Byron is right behind me. "There's nothing in there. They packed everything up a couple of days after…" he trails off and I know why. After I died, he didn't say.

"That's alright," I say softly as he stares at me.

I walk into my small closet sized room and I sigh at the empty bed frame and desk that use to hold all of my things. I used to live here and now it looks like I had barely made a mark. When I woke up at St. Mungo's, confused and disoriented, Mom and Dad where both there with me, looking at me like I was creature from another planet and when I asked them what had happened Mom lunged at me and held her tightly against her chest. Apparently they were worried because of the things I was saying when I was passed out, but they tried to hide their anxiety as I woke up and I was relieved that I was finally home… but joy was something I didn't feel right away and that upset me.

"Was there just darkness the whole time?" Byron presses again and I close my eyes before opening them and glaring.

I haven't told anyone about what had happened to me yet. First off, I thought it had only been two days since I was gone, but when they said it had been months I nearly passed out again from the shock. And then there was the fact that they thought I was dead and they buried me in a bloody tomb for a while. I got here by jumping off a bloody cliff, but technically my body was in a cemetery here the whole time. That does something to a person to imagine that. How could I be two places at one time? I really didn't care to find out right now because I'm afraid what I would find so I'm trying to ignore it. I bring a hand up to my cheek where a faint red scratch is healing. I swear it wasn't a dream even though a part of me is afraid that it was.

It's a lot to take in and everything seems different to me now. Mom and Dad's relationship seems strained and more rocky than I remember. I hear them arguing late into the night with each other, thinking I won't hear. The few times I have talked to Gavin he was like a totally different person altogether. He seems darker somehow and angrier on the surface. My brother and I have always had opposite personalities, but I've always felt connected to him… I don't feel that anymore.

Evelyn seems older and Lavinia is… well… Lavinia is… I don't even know. She's always moping now and Dad won't talk to her. Even though I'm finally home, I hate that I don't recognize it. Same people, same place… but nothing is familiar to me. Not to mention the bloody doctors that I have to see every day so they can run tests and charms to try to find out what happened to me. The doctors and the press are making my life unbearable… I wanted to come home to this romanticized version I had of my life, but with each hour and each day I realize how silly that was.

I also feel guilt— A very weird and heavy sense of survival's guilt that's making it hard to function as I think about the people on the island… the boy and the girl who helped me find that cliff… what's happening to them right now? If I wasn't convinced that a part of me was mad I'd probably try to find out.

"What about Paige?" I ask carefully, trying not to let on that I know anything more.

"Bailey tried to bring her back too… but it was too late."

"Good," I mutter but he didn't hear.

"Cass," he says, stepping closer to me until I can feel his body heat. "Before you woke up at St. Mungo's you were speaking Greek. Very good Greek," he adds quietly. "And when we got you out of the coffin you were soaked and some of your clothes were missing. The healers said you had alcohol in your system as well. Something happened to you and you've never been good at lying."

I swallow before attempting an answer… but I don't want to go down that road yet so I bring up something else. "Were you and Lavinia together while I was gone?" I ask to get attention away from me.

"Yes," he answers without any pretense and I tilt my head to the side as I look at my old bed frame.

"The whole time?" I sounded bitter and I shook my head to try to calm myself down. Things will never be the same again... and no matter how little the change is… it's still a change.

"Just about."

"You move fast."

"Cassius," he says seriously to get my attention but I don't bother turning. "I think I've figured a few things out about what happened to you. I'm pretty sure your healers are on the wrong track. The thing that she touched… it was a—"

"My Mother told me what you did to help me." I cut him off with a snap and he steps back to give me space.

"Lavinia did too," he adds and I glance at him from the corner of my eyes.

"My Dad won't talk to her… why is that?"

"Because of me," he says morosely and I cross my arms, feeling chilled all the way down to my bones. "Before we got the letter that you were finally awake… your sister and I had been together since you've been gone." He explains, chopping up his sentences in a way to get me to understand. "She's… we've been staying together," he finishes uncomfortably. He looks away and runs a hand through his dark hair as I watch his face. "She has that watch…"

"Yeah," I say because he's taking such a long time to get to the bloody point.

"I know you aren't going to like this… but we were having sex and I said some things… that I guess your father heard because I accidently pressed the button on her watch."

"That's disgusting," I say as I feel my lip curl back in disgust. Byron has always been without a filter on most of the weird things that he says… but I didn't need to know that.

"Yes, but it's not important right now. I know what that earring was. All we need to know is who put the curse on it."

"Would you be okay if I shacked up with your little sister?" I ask curiously because I'm actually not sure how that makes me feel when I get pass the disgust factor.

"Chloe would never do that," he says softly after a pause. He obviously wanted me to respond to what he said instead.

"Why? I never thought Lavinia would do something like that… no matter how much she liked you," I carry on because it's easier to talk about this than worry about what happened to me.

"You're not her type," he says and I give him a look. The question was actually rhetorical and he knew it. "But it doesn't matter. Listen—"

"Thank you, Byron, for helping me," I say softly because I hear that he worked hard and saved my life and all that rot… but I don't want to think about that place anymore. "I appreciate it."

My eyes burn so I close them against the light outside. I haven't slept in three days. I'm too afraid to because I fear that if I let myself fall asleep, I'll wake up back on that stupid confusing island. I think if I was to realize this was a dream, I would scream. I hate the looks that I get from people now, though. Either they are frightened when they see me or they have a look of pity on their faces because I'm the new circus freak in town. This isn't my fault and I hate that I have to carry the stigma with me. Stupid Paige and that stupid fucking curse.

"So, you love her then?" I say to the window because I don't want to look at him.

I've only been gone a couple of days but to everyone else it has been months and most have them have moved on with out me. I wasn't too thrilled about them being together when I first caught them at the Manor and after his drunken idiocy I was pretty sure it would never come to fruition… but I guess I was wrong about that.

I'm a bit bitter, to be honest. No matter how unfair that is because it's almost like he replaced me with my sister while I was gone. Minus the sex and love part. God, I might vomit.

"I do," he says. "You know I always have."

Just because that's true doesn't mean I'm comfortable with it. "She's young," I say because I don't want to talk about myself. "She's young and you," I look at him from the corner of my eyes as he stares at me. "You are you."

I predict that they're both going to get hurt somehow… they're both too bloody sensitive to be normal and neither of them communicate particularly well. I cross my arms again and start biting my nails, a habit I picked up with the headache from not sleeping. When I mentioned having a headache to my Father he summand ten healers and he refused to let me leave my room for two days. Apparently everyone thinks this is a fleeting miracle and I'll just fall dead again with the slightest tick. I don't think anyone realizes how annoying that is.

"Yes," he says gently. "I am me."

Maybe I am being a dick, but who cares? Either I'm being coddled by my parents or pissing off my friends but everyone seems to want something different from me. I look down at my watch.

"I have to go," I say without looking at him. "I have to meet my brother."

I leave without saying goodbye and he does nothing to stop me as I leave the flat. I stop by the main building before I Apparate and I pay my share of the rent for the past couple of months to a shocked and startled landlord who accepts my Gringotts key check with shaky fingers and wide eyes. After that awkward encounter I go to the Poison Seraph, a restaurant in an upper class section of Diagon to meet my little brother for lunch. It wasn't my idea and it wasn't his… our mother actually set up this little play date for us because we haven't spoken more than five words to each other since I came back… or woke up… or whatever the hell happened to me. It's an exclusive place, though, and it's known for its discretion towards its higher profile customers. At least I know no tabloids will be tipped off here.

I pause when I step into the building and I look around the room, spotting Gavin's trademark head of blond hair right away. I barely even look at the hostess as she walks me to my seat and hands me the menu as the people around us whisper to each other to announce my arrival. I try to ignore the way I'm being gawked at as I stare at my brother who's looking blankly back. Everyone stares at me now… I'm like a burn victim minus the scars, but now I look a little different so it takes people a few seconds to actually recognize me.

"Here you are, Mr. Malfoy," the woman says as I take my seat across from my brother while unclasping my cloak. I look at Gavin, who lifts his eyebrows in greeting and takes a drink from his wine glass. "Can I start you off with something to drink?"

"Whatever he's having is fine," I say, waving a dismissive hand to my little brother who turns his head to stare at group of girls to the table at the far corner. I place my cloak on the back of my chair to get settled in as he watches them.

"Gavin," I greet because he doesn't say anything.

He glances at me again before setting his glass down and licking his teeth. "So… was this all a joke?"

"What are you talking about?" I ask as people in the restaurant send me sideways glances, pretending to eat their meals when they really just want to approach me and ask me what happened. Such a public place was a bad idea and I look down at the table cloth…. Trying not to feel paranoid.

"The whole you being a dead thing because if it was supposed to be funny, you really fell short," he states flatly, looking away again and tapping his fingers against the table.

"It wasn't a joke, Gavin," I say, completely irritated that he asked and that he's not looking at me. "I almost wish it was," I mutter and I sit back as the waiter pours me a glass of wine and he takes our orders with a shaky hand.

"What did I get you for your birthday last year?"

I stare at him and he blinks at me. "Why?" I ask.

"Just answer the question."

I shake my head and put my elbows on the table as I fiddle with the silverware. "Nothing," I say flatly. "You never get anyone anything for their birthdays and signing your name to a card from Mom and Dad doesn't count."

He's not impressed and he takes another drink from his wine as he looks away. "How old were you when you lost your virginity?"

"Jesus Christ, Gavin," I say in frustration as I look up at the ceiling before glaring at him. "It's me, now stop asking me all these damn questions," I hiss in a whisper so no one else hears. It's all he's been doing.

"You were seventeen and it was to that pudgy hufflepuff girl, you should be embarrassed," he says, a little of his mocking humor coming out.

"Carmen wasn't pudgy," I say haughtily and when he gives me a stern look I frown. "Yeah, well, I never got the herp," I cut back and I see a smirk appear in the corner of his mouth even though he refuses to look at me.

"That was a rumor," he says and then his dark eyes flick to mine. "It was never true."

"Hm," I say as I take my wine glass and gulp it down. At first I was hesitant to drink wine… but now I'm trying to be normal again. "You look tired."

"And you look like hell," he counters and I smile.

"I was dead… what's your excuse?"

"You're going to be milking that one the rest of your life," he says jokingly and we both pause when our food arrives. "I won't be able to stay long," he says as he unravels his napkin and puts it on his lap. "I have other plans so whatever Mom was hoping to accomplish with this little meeting is going to be stalled."

"What plans do you have?" I ask as I take a bite of the fish I ordered. Food I can trust is a good thing. Between the oranges and the drugged wine on the island, I was starting to think I'd never eat again. "With Addison?" I add because I haven't seen or heard about her since… yeah… well…

"No, something more important."

I furrow my brows. "What's more important than your pregnant fiancée?" I ask because he sounded hard and cold then. This is the Gavin I don't recognize.

"Do you realize how fucked up everything has gotten since you've been gone?" The anger in his voice makes me raise my eyebrows as he leans across the table to get closer to me. "We thought you were dead, Cassius… Dead." He repeats again to get his point across. "That hurt everyone and everyone suffered." He sits back and shakes his head, like he was upset that he let himself say that. I watch as he pulls a cigarette from his pocket and he lights the end with his wand.

"When did you start smoking?" I ask as he takes a drag and blows the smoke out from the corner of his mouth. My brother was always too lazy to have bad habits.

"When did you become a brunette?" he counters back to avoid the question as he looks at my hair. "Does the disguise actually work?" he asks as he looks me over.

An elderly couple passes by our table and the old woman in the pearls looks at Gavin, noticing his Malfoy blonde hair that makes my brother and I stand out from everyone else. When her gaze slides to me, her eyes widen and she grabs her date's arm, whispering furiously to them as they take their seats. "I guess not," I say tiredly as I take a drink from my glass.

There's an awkwardly long amount of dead silence where the music from the restaurant and the voices of the other patrons scratch against my ears. My focus shifts from my knife cutting into my food, to Gavin when he scoots back his chair. "I have to go."

"Sit down," I tell him because people are starting to stare without a care now. At least they tried not to be obvious about it before.

That spikes his anger and I can see the tightness in his jaw as he places his hands on the table. He has never liked being told what to do, especially from me, so I know my order irritated him. "I have a meeting to go to."

He stands up and I stand as well so I can counter him and impose myself on him. I am taller, that usually works to my advantage with him. "This has been fun, little brother. I'm glad we did it." I say sarcastically as he buttons his suit jacket.

"Goodbye, Cassius," he says flatly, dropping money on the table before taking off. I watch his back in annoyance before glancing around me at all the stares I'm receiving from the patrons and employees. I glare at Gavin's retreating back before chasing after him, grabbing my cloak from the chair and folding it over my arm as I jog after him. He has no reason to be acting this way with me. He should be bloody happy I'm back.

"What is your problem?" I ask as we make it outside. I grab his arm to get his attention and make him face me. "What is wrong with you?"

He throws my hand off and scowls at me. "There's nothing wrong with me," he says, on the verge of yelling. I look around to see the people passing by as he flicks his cigarette on the ground and tramps it out with his dress boot. No doubt this will be reported in the paper tomorrow and I bring a hand up to tug through my darker locks because I've never been comfortable in the spot light. "There is something wrong with you. People don't just come back like you did. What the hell was that?"

"I don't know," I say in frustration because I don't know the answer to any of the questions he wants to ask. "I don't know, but I know that I'm here now, so can you please be a little more fucking welcoming."

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" he replies, trying to get rid of me.

"Where are you going?" I ask as he takes off down the road. I follow right behind and he's annoyed by it. I don't care and I fall into step beside him as I throw on my cloak.

"I have a meeting."

"What kind of meeting? Surely you didn't plan anything for the company on Saturday." One thing that will never change about my brother is his lack of work ethic.

"Go home, Cass. I'm sure mother is waiting," he mocks because it's true. I'm a little boy again to my mother and father and, even though it makes me feel good that they care, it's also freaking bothersome.

"I want to go with you," I say as I try to sound casual, putting my hands in my pockets and trying to pretend that I'm not jogging to catch up with his strides.

"No."

"Why not? What kind of meeting is it?" I stop walking. "Is it an AA meeting?"

He stops to and glares at me over his shoulder. "I'm not a fucking alcoholic, you idiot," he says like the wonderful ray of sunshine that he is. "Goodbye now."

He starts walking again and I just stand where I am, staring at his back. "Fine. Bye, Gavin," I say softly.

To be completely honest, I had expected him to stop and stay… or at least invite me along, but when I saw his back retreat down the road I grabbed my wand and made up my mind to follow him. There is something wrong with my brother… even I can tell that and I don't like it. I'm not all that surprised to see him turn down knockturn alley because I know Gavin has always favored the pubs and clubs that were situated on knockturn's main drag, but when I saw him turn into a notoriously dark Apothecary with another slim looking witch, my interest, and my concern, was peaked.

"What the hell, Gavin?" I whisper as I watch the door shut behind him.

I throw up the hood of my dark cloak and I settle myself in an alcove across the street in one of the dark brick buildings. It's really not suspicious for me to do this because most of the people in Knockturn are creeps and dirt bags. I watch as a few more jumpy eyed wizards enter the building where my brother just went, noticing that there's a charm that slightly lights up the threshold whenever someone steps through. One witch with a leather jacket and striped tights tries to get in, but whatever spell they have on the door rejects her, and she goes flying backwards, landing hard on her bottom on the dirty cobble stone street.

"You told me both of your parents were purebloods," one pointy faced witch with dyed green hair sneers from the doorway at the girl on the ground.

"They are!" the girl in the leather jacket stands up and dusts off her tights. "There must be something wrong with the ward!" she says with a red face.

She tries to enter the building again, only to chucked right back out on her knees.

"No dirty blood." Some gruff voice says as he joins the green haired witch in the doorway. "This is a pureblood meeting only."

A pureblood meeting only? Surely Gavin didn't know that. I watch as the woman in the street winces as she gets up on all fours, wiping gravel away from the side of her face.

"But…." The woman fumbles to stand up with holes in the knees of her tights from the second fall. "But I am! I swear, there is something wrong with your wards."

"There is nothing wrong," the big gruff man with a dark hair and graying goatee states flatly. "Go home, mudblood."

The woman in the street looks miffed and she sends a pleading looking to her green haired friend who totally ignores her and walks inside. As the woman in the street cusses and swears, the man with the goatee closes the door and pulls the blinds down tight. I furrow my brows and watch as the girl storms off, down the opposite way of Knockturn, muttering under her breath and cussing about what just happened to her. When she's out of sight I look back at the old Apothecary with curiosity and dread pooling within me. A meeting where only purebloods are allowed to attend? That can't be good.

Gavin is my baby brother, after all, and I kind of like the idea of helping him if he needs it. These past couple of weeks since I've been home have all been about me… what I'm doing, what I'm feeling, what happened to me… but this is something that I'm use to. I'm use to taking over that big brother role and helping out other people. It's a position I'm more comfortable with.

I assume the meeting is already in session so I pull my hood down further to cover my face as I walk towards the building. I hesitate one second before tugging on the door handle and I breathe a sigh of relief when it opens for me and I'm able to walk in without any problems. Two pureblooded parents—check.

"You're late," the gruff voice man says and I glance at him once before looking away and tugging on my hood again. "Shut the door, would you?"

I quickly shut the door and send a timid look around because I've never been in here before. The Apothecary is lined with old cedar shelves that are full of potions and healing ointments that fall along the line of dark magic. From what I've heard, most of the main selling items are in some mysterious back room where unicorn blood and dragon's teeth are sold by the pound. The room is full of people… witches and wizards of all different ages and social class are mingling together in the large shop, making a dull roar as their voices try to speak over one another. The green haired who ditched her friend is speaking to some pudgy looking old house-wife wearing a housecoat and loafers…. It's a weird crowd… but one thing is similar about everyone in this room right now. They're all purebloods, and from what I know of history… a secretive pureblood only meeting never leads to anything good.

"Everyone take a seat please. We're ready to begin!" Some round looking man in a top hat claps his hands and the noise in the room dies down. I didn't notice the wooden folding chairs set up around the room as people begin to separate to sit. I slide towards the back, by a shelf of snake skins, as I look around for my brother.

I spot him instantly because his hair sets him apart from the others in the room. He's sitting down, towards the front, with some thin looking dark haired witch on his left, and a serious looking Theodore Nott on his right.

What the hell, Gavin?

"All right, settle down, settle down," The man in the top hat says and he raises his chubby hands as he walks towards the makeshift stage by the check out counter. The crowd dies down and some horrid looking man with a limp walks around the perimeter of the room, offering people drinks. I decline when he reaches me and try to focus on my brother. "The ministry is still pressuring our registered friends into signing the agreement. As of right now there is still wiggle room to post pone sighing before the Ministry acts on its decree."

"They brought in my sister last week for not signing," some exotic looking witch says from the front row. She's wearing a red velvet dress that reaches her feet and her hair is done up in a foolish looking curled style on top of her head. "She has served her time already. What right do they have to tell us what to think?"

"Do not feel pressured to sign," the round man says and I glance at my brother again as he talks to Nott in a hushed voice. What is he doing here? "If one of us does… then they have the power. Gavin," everyone looks to my brother. "Has your father signed?"

"No, not yet," Gavin says smoothly and I have no idea what they're talking about, so I cross my arms because I'm pretty sure this isn't a book club meeting. "But I think he will soon. My Mother wants him to."

"Of course she does," a tall blonde in the third row sneers and Gavin shoots her a look.

I find myself glaring as well and I glance back at Gavin to see his reaction. "What does that mean?" my brother says darkly and the woman raises an eyebrow with her legs crossed.

"Exactly what you think it does. You and your family can pretend that she's not a Weasley, but she is." She crosses her arms as well and tightens her jaw. "The Weasley's are blood traitors and they always will be."

See, this is one of the things that sucks about my parents. You can go one place and everyone will hate my Dad and say terrible things about him… and you can go somewhere else and every one will swear that my Mother was the worst thing to happen to the Malfoy name since Nigel Malfoy blew off his own foot with his wand. There is no easy in-between with them. It's like they come from too polar sides of the wizarding spectrum.

"Jade, be nice," a woman with short dark hair cuts in with an amused smile. She's the thin one sitting on Gavin's left who looks too old to look so plastic. "Ginny used to be one of our dearest friends."

Even I know that's a lie.

"Until she killed my husband," the Jade woman hisses and the woman in the white dress smiles.

"Allegedly."

"Anyways, the point is Malfoy hasn't signed yet and he is the most recognized marked pureblood among us." The pudgy top hat man tries to real the conversation back to the point.

"But he won't join the party," some gruff warlock chimes in, sipping on the blood red drink that the troll looking man was offering up."He has an image to uphold."

Some old witch in a ratty hat sighs out loud until people start looking at her. "This is exciting and all, but did anyone notice the halfbreeds marching down the street this morning? Honestly… equal pay for equal work? Those stupid creatures do nothing but feed off the government's money. It's not like anyone is going to pay a half giant to do anything other than yard work."

I curl my lip back in disgust at the comment and the agreement it receives from the people around them as I glare at Gavin. This is the kind of meeting that he had?

"I've honestly noticed that my spells aren't as strong as they use to be ever since they opened the muggle friendly motel off of Derby Street. I mean, if mudbloods want to integrate, that's fine, but we don't need their bloody families coming here and upsetting our magical balance." A girl with chestnut hair comments and I crane my neck to see her face because that voice sounds familiar to me.

"I agree…"

They start talking about muggle borns and their families for a little while as I stare at my little brother. How could he join a club like this? Granted, our last name is equated with pureblood and prejudice…but we've never had a thought left or right about blood purity. It wasn't shoved down our throats like it was my father's and our mother taught us to accept everyone. Character counts more than blood status, we were told. I'm surprised Gavin would get involved because he hates all political things and, even though he can be mean sometimes, he's never thought it was worth his time to hate someone so thoroughly for something they couldn't help. To Gavin, a pretty girl is pretty no matter what her status and that's the only thing that's ever been worth his time.

I'm about ready to pull him out of this freaking building and demand to know what he's doing associating with people like this, but I feel the distinct prickling on the back of my neck, signaling I'm being stared at and I turn to the woman with chestnut hair seated towards the front of the room. She's turned around with her arm along the back of the chair, staring right at me. I find myself looking back into a pair of olive green eyes that I haven't seen in years.

"Daniella?" I whisper in surprise. Admittedly she was a snob when we dated at Hogwarts in the beginning, but I never pegged her as a purist either. What is happening to the world?

She tilts her head to the side as she studies me, trying to decide if she knows me or not and I find myself being stupidly floored by seeing her again after so many years. She was always beautiful, but now she looked like a woman and I have to say I appreciate the new look… why is she here, though?

She finally looks away after a thick side burned bloke tugs her elbow to get her attention and my focus shifts from the back of her head to Gavin. I watch as he excuses himself and he disappears into a dark back hallway. I follow him, of course, seeing this as my chance to confront him and when he turns into a public bathroom, I slide in behind him and shut the door. At first he doesn't notice as he walks over to one of the urinals… but when I lock the door he glances over his shoulder.

"Wow," he says as he turns back and unzips his pants. "You totally followed me."

"Why are you here?" I ask bluntly. Gavin is a dick, but this is not his crowd. My brother seems to have fallen in with the wrong set of people…. Which is kind of funny if you think about it because it's usually Gavin who is the ring leader of the' wrong set.'

"To take a piss, obviously," he snaps like I was a retarded three year old. "Stop watching me. You know I'm shy."

"Gavin, this is a Death Eater meeting. What the hell are you doing at something like this?"

"It's not a Death Eater meeting," he says in annoyance. "Will you leave," he snaps and when I don't move he cusses and shifts his broad shoulders. Then I hear his pants zip back up. "Goddamnit, I can't do anything with you just standing there like a fucking creep."

"I'm leaving and you're coming with me."

"Who are you?" he asks as he walks over to the sink to wash his hands. It's good to know that he still holds cleanliness in high regard considering the company he's keeping. "Who the fuck are you, Cassius?" he asks as he glares at my reflection in the small hanging mirror. "Where have you been?" I stare at him as his dark eyes glare into my own. "You were gone and now I'm here, so leave me alone."

That didn't make any sense to me and I watch him as he dries off his hands on one of the paper towels.

"What happened to you?" I ask because he's totally different now.

"My brother died," is all he says before he pushes past me and unlocks the door. When he leaves I just stare at the wall for a while, trying to decide how to handle that encounter, because it was so far away from anything I expected.

What happened to everything?

I blame Paige.

I feel safer with this, though… It's not my own problem I have to fix… it's someone else's and I like that much better than focusing on myself. I can think of only one thing that will help my misguided little brother, because I obviously hold no more sway over him. I head back to the Manor with my dyed brown hair and winter cloak still on my shoulders even though it's the middle of summer. All the while working out what I want to say to the one person who Gavin will actually listen to because he seems to be in such a weird place right now.

I want to take focus off of my own weird placement as well, and helping Gavin will do just that.

I'm not ashamed to say I'm taking the high road in this situation…. and I'm totally going to rat him out to Dad.

I know Gavin will be thrilled.