Author's Note: Wow, huge thanks to everyone who's followed, favorited, and reviewed. I hope you guys are enjoying the story. Sorry it's been such a long time since I last updated, but every time I tried to write for Snape, I got really sad (RIP Alan Rickman). But I'm back now! As I've stated before this story will never be abandoned, so fear not. Anyway, here's a fun lighthearted chapter. Let me know what you think, reviews are what keeps any fanfic writer going.
SushiZombie123: Thanks so much for your thoughtful review. Mrs. Weasley was so fun to write, as was the Sirius and Snape bit (I really love messing with them). Hope you like this chapter!
Disclaimer: Do I really have to keep writing these? I don't own Harry Potter and, sadly, I never will.
PS Snake Face and Mis are going to meet in chapter 15, so hang in there, it's gonna be awesome!
Chapter 13: Roommates
Telling the Order about Mis' acceptance of Draco's invitation to Malfoy Manor went rather poorly…Later that evening, as she was perched on her red leather chair in Snape's office, reiterating the events of the night, she described the whole affair as an "epic clusterfucking shitstorm." Sirius had threatened to lock up her in Grimmauld Place, and even though Remus was the rational one, the look on the werewolf's face indicated that he might consider that to be a sound plan. Molly Weasley began yelling at her in a shrill voice that reached octaves only audible to dogs. Harry looked ready to faint from over exertion due to bellowing, and the rest opted to seethe with silent but still physically tangible rage. The only ones who remained quiet and stoic were Dumbledore and Snape.
The only one who seemed to think it was a good idea was Mad-eye, and Mis would later reflect on the fact that if it hadn't been for his support…The Order probably would've locked her in a tower and thrown away the key.
"You lot can't blame the girl for being a strategist. Besides, I taught her myself, she can knock of few heads together should the need arise, she'll be
absolutely fine." Mad-eye had insisted, making something bright and proud swell inside Mis. They hadn't been able to truly argue after that, and it was generally agreed that if Mad-eye said she was capable, they couldn't refute it…at least vocally.
Near the end of the meeting, as everyone was leaving, she said her goodbyes, received a great many looks of pity, and as she was about to follow Snape down to the dungeons, Dumbledore intercepted her with a gentle hand on the shoulder. Mis turned to find him looking at her with the full intensity of his bright blue eyes. She had expected him to offer her a lecture, or perhaps assure her that this was not something she was required to do. Instead, he just looked at her for what felt like a long time, searching her as if her reasons would reveal themselves in her dark eyes if he stared long enough. The old man patted her cheek with his newly un-blackened hand.
"Thank you, Miss Holtzer." He finally said, a small, sad smile on his wrinkled face. Mis wasn't exactly sure what he was thanking her for, but she smiled brightly.
"Of course, sir." She replied.
Back in Snape's office, Mis, who no longer needed to study The Veil, had a wizard novel about a forbidden romance between a male veela and a witch resting in the crook of her elbow. It was total trash, but she didn't care. In a world without TV or the internet, entertainment was a rare commodity and she intended to take it were she could get it… without apology. She told Snape as much when he made his disdain of the book known.
After the stressful meeting Mis was grateful for the peaceful atmosphere of Snape's office, it allowed her to get lost in the ridiculous story. The irony of the situation wasn't lost on her, even when she was actually living in a book…she still sought to escape to another one. The story mentioned casting the patronus charm, and Mis was reminded of something she was curious about.
"Snape?" Mis asked. The potions master gave a noncommittal grunt of inquiry. "What do you think my patronus would be?" She asked lightly, watching him as he hunched over the ever increasing pile of DADA essays. She was rather surprised when he sat up straighter and looked directly at her. Mis was surprised that he was actually considering her question, and not instantly replying with some snarky answer.
"I would suspect your patronus to be an owl." He replied thoughtfully, staring off into space. "You prefer night over day. You're mostly docile, but will claw out someone's eyes should they offend you. You're always asking questions, and the moment you obtain an answer, ten more questions sprout from it. You're an elitist who's easily bored with people, yet your desire is to help them…a bit condescending I might add. I've always imagined owls to be guardians and messengers, and I think that, in many ways, that is what you are." Snape said, and before Mis could fully process his words, he hit her with another befuddling thing. The bastard smiled at her and, although it was small, it was still an honest to god smile without an iota of irony.
Mis knew without a shadow doubt that she never had, nor ever would receive a compliment like that again. She knew praise from Snape was hard won, and she intended to cherish it. Somehow, Mis had earned his kindness and that made her feel like she'd swallowed the sun and the warmth of it was spilling out of her pores. She smiled genuinely, and as she caught his coal black eyes, she tried to express how much it meant to her.
"Thanks, Snape." She said softly.
"Shut up, Holtzer." he replied wryly. Mis chuckled.
Mis parked the little blue Toyota that Dumbledore had rented for her and stepped out on the narrow London street. It was cold and breezy, and the day was overcast with dense, grey clouds blocking out the noonday sun. It smelled like rain, Mis took in a deep breath and nearly giggled to herself in excitement as she exhaled. Sirius didn't know she was coming to Grimmauld Place, and Mis was thrilled that she would be able to surprise him. Ever since he had been forced to move back into the damn place, he had flooed to Mis's bedroom in the evenings and talked with her for awhile until she went to bed. It had become a nightly ritual that she had soon invited Harry, Ron and Hermione to attend. Mis's fireplace, for reasons unknown, was connected to the floo network, while simultaneously remaining off the grid. Dumbledore had said it was probably some kind of interference do to Mis's strange magical repulsion.
Either way, it made for some thoroughly pleasant evenings, full of joking and marauder stories. Hermione would often have a large tome in tow. She and Mis would sit next to each other on the small couch pressed against the wall opposite the fireplace, talking animatedly. Hermione would excitedly explain to Mis about anything magical the dark haired girl asked her about. The two boys would sit by the fire and talk to Sirius which, more often than not, involved a great many off color jokes and raucous laughter.
On one such evening after bidding Sirius goodnight, Harry had looked troubled. Sirius had seemed despondent throughout the conversation, everyone had noticed it, no one had needed to ask why.
"I'm worried about him, that place is toxic, he hates it so much." Harry said, running his hand through his messy, black hair, before sitting down heavily between Mis and Hermione. Ron sighed and nodded his head as he leaned against Mis's fourposter bed frame.
"I know, mate. I wish there was another option for him." Ron concurred, folding his arms and looking down at his feet. Hermione pulled that same look she had whenever she was trying to work through a particularly difficult athrimancy problem.
"Yeah, I wish he didn't have to be there either, especially alone." Mis said nodding along with Ron's declaration, placing a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder.
Mis was pleased that she and the golden trio got along well. After she had rescued Sirius and taken the curse out of Dumbledore, they had seemingly agreed amongst themselves that she was ok, and not nearly as scary as they had previously thought. Mis had been surprised when they had revealed to her that they had been slightly intimidated by her demeanor, at least when they had first met her.
"It's a bit unnerving to meet someone who already knows everything about you." Ron had said in defense of their collective feelings.
"Plus, you had that look Hermione or Mum gets when things aren't going right, I was constantly worried you were riling up for a good shout." Ron had said, matter of factly. Mis had appreciated the honesty, and had laughed heartily at the confession.
"I think I'm having an idea." Hermione said suddenly. Mis looked over at her curiously from across the couch. "Mis, what are your plans this week?" Hermione asked in a no nonsense voice, and fixing the girl with her bright, honey brown eyes.
"Nothing in particular, just training with Peggy, and Snape said he needed help with restocking the Hospital Wing potion stores." Mis replied with a shrug of her shoulders, not sure where that line of inquiry was going.
"What if you were to go stay with Sirius for a while? I'm sure he would love having someone else around to liven up that drab place." Hermione said enthusiastically. "We would all be there in a heartbeat, except for school." She finished, gesturing to herself, Harry and Ron and looking hopefully at Mis. Mis closed her eyes.
"I'm actually pissed that I didn't think of that." She mumbled ruefully. "That's a fantastic idea." Mis said calmly before her face lit up with a wide grin. "Oh, that would be so fun." Mis squealed as the idea fully sunk in.
"Would you do that, Mis?" Harry asked, looking at her with puppy dog eyes. "I'd feel so much better if I knew there was someone there with him." Harry said emphatically, with shy smile.
"Hell yeah!" she replied happily. "Brightest witch of her age, was never more true." Mis said pointing at Hermione then bolting out of her seat to begin packing.
Snape had actually seemed pleased when she had told him of her plans the next morning. Mis suspected it had something to do with him wanting her to distance herself from Draco, and the insanity that was Hogwarts, saying it would be good for her if she got some real rest and relaxation after the intense fainting spell that happened after she had absorbed Dumbledore's curse.
"Gonna miss me?" she asked with a smirk, hiking up her backpack and shifting a large blue duffle bag in her hand to try and get a better grip, as Snape walked her to the small train depot past the edge of the school grounds.
"Not in the slightest." he said stoically, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. Mis scoffed.
"You lie." she said shaking her head. "Who'll be there to cut those weird root things for the blood replenishing potion?" She asked accusingly.
"I managed just fine before." He replied mildly.
"How'll you survive without my keen eye and quick wit?" she asked in the same tone.
"I suspect the migraine I've had for the past two months will dissipate." He said absently.
"Snape." she said stopping him abruptly by the arm, then gripping his shoulders urgently. "Who's going to compliment your robes that flutter like a ravens wings at midnight, when the moon is bright and full?" She asked as if genuinely concerned and frightened with the thought of no one commenting on the potion master's robes. Snape watched her with tight lips as she stared off into the distance.
"Like cloudless climes and starry skies, and all that's best of dark and bright." She said softly, a look of pained longing on her face. "She was blinded by the light. Revved up like a douche, another runner in the night." She sang softly, closing her eyes and bowing her head as if her emotions were too much to bear. Snape sighed, and shrugged out from under her grasp.
"First of all, Holtzer…" Snape started, speaking very deliberately and holding up a finger. "It is an insult to Lord Byron to have Manfred Mann lyrics so closely following his poetry." He said with disdain, before holding up a second finger. "Secondly, and rather more disturbingly, the proper lyrics are not revved up like a douche…" He said, with the disgusted tone he only reserved for the very slow witted. "It's revved up like a deuce, as in a '32 Ford in a bloody drag race." He stated with a grimace.
Mis scoffed. "First of all Snape, don't insult Manfred Mann or his Earth Band in my presence, I won't allow it." She said testily. "They took a '73 Springsteen song, made it sound halfway decent and hilarious by making it sound like they were saying 'douche.'" She said with an indelicate snort. "It's a win win." She finished with a smirk. Snape looked at her straight faced, but with a slightly unhinged look in his black eyes.
"You don't like Bruce Springsteen?" He asked in a dangerously calm voice. Mis put her hand on her hips, and her eyes flashed.
"Hey, I never said that." She said defensively. "My implication was that '73 Springsteen is not my cup of tea." She stated firmly, jutting her hip out. "…And I'll tell you why." She said, her voice feisty while she pointed a finger at him.
"Oh, I'm dizzy with anticipation." Snape deadpanned, crossing his arms and holding out his ear mockingly waiting for her argument. "He wasn't The Boss until '75, mmmkay, cupcake?" She said condescendingly. "He became The Boss after Born to Run. Everything before it was that weird bluegrass stuff and everything after was trite, and frankly lacked grit." She said without apology. "Yeah, I said it! Screw Born in the U.S.A, the only good song on it was I'm On Fire. Fight Me." She insisted, holding her arms open in a 'come at me' gesture.
She cocked her head to one side in thought and abruptly dropped her fierce countenance. "How in the blue hell did we get on the subject of Bruce Springsteen?" she asked in a tone that indicated she was genuinely curious about how she got so lost in the conversation. Snape actually snorted and his black eyes glittered as he shook his head.
"You have the attention span of a bloody pigeon and a mind that generates too many opinions for you to manage without exploding in a blaze dogmatism." He explained mildly. Mis shrugged slightly in bland acceptance of his explanation.
They walked the rest of the way in a comfortable silence along the dirt road, lined with tall dense trees that blocked most of the day's overcast brightness. Mis struggled slightly under her duffle bag. The weight wasn't so much the problem, it was the size that made it cumbersome.
"Having trouble?" Snape asked, with what Mis knew to be false concern. She grunted in confirmation as she picked the thing up and tried to swing it over her shoulder. She lost her balance slightly at the different weight distribution, and she had to wave her arms wildly to get it back. Snape's lip twitch as he watched her, she looked somewhat deranged as she flailed.
"Shame." He said, remorseless and clearly suppressing laughter.
"So chivalry is dead?" she asked in annoyance, blowing her hair out of her face as she righted herself and continued walking.
"As a doornail." He confirmed with a smirk.
They reached the depot, with the train wheezing to life and the sun bright, but cold behind the clouds. Mis turned to Snape and dropped the duffle bag on the rickety, wooden platform. She narrowed her eyes at him before walking forward determinedly and giving him a hug. She pressed her cheek against his chest and breathed out heavily. He hugged her back with one arm around her shoulders and his other hand holding her head gently to him. She felt a small but painful tug in her heart, it was silly she knew, but she was going to miss him, even if she only intended to be gone for a week or two.
"You're going to visit on the weekends, right?" she asked in a small voice.
"I suppose." He replied, as if the word were being ripped from him against his will.
"Promise?" she said, smirking against his black robes. He shoved her away.
"Oh, go get on the goddamn train." He said impatiently, his sneer back in place.
"Alright, alright…" She said, scrunching her neck into her shoulder as if bracing for a smack upside the head.
Mis picked up her duffle bag, and stepped onto the express. She turned around on the step and reached her hand out to him as the train started moving slowly.
"Don't forget me." She said emotionally, unable to contain her inner thespian. Mis saw Snape's lip twitch, before he rolled his eyes. Mis offered one last smile to him before climbing up the steps and into the cab car.
Mis extracted her backpack and duffle from the trunk, then walked over to the small wrought iron gate and opened it. She nearly giggled to herself again as she walked through the tiny, poorly kept and yellowing yard. She knocked on the tall, narrow door, with the gold twelve centered in the middle, unable to stop herself from bouncing in glee. It took a moment before she heard footsteps on the other side of the door. Sirius opened the door, wearing a plain grey sweatshirt and worn, slightly frayed jeans, with his dark, almost shoulder length hair pulled back out and of his face.
"Mis!" Sirius cried, his grey eyes glittering before he enveloped her in a bear hug and lifted her off her feet and placed her back down on the inside of the house.
"Hey stranger, got room for a girl looking for some trouble?" she asked playfully. Sirius chuckled enthusiastically.
"You came to the right place, love." He said spreading his arms out grandly, gesturing around the dark, narrow hallway. He closed the door quickly then turned back to her. She couldn't contain herself anymore she let out a loud squeal of excitement, and jumped in place. Sirius's eyes went wide eyed, and he clamped a hand over Mis' mouth, but it was too late.
"Filth, Mudbloods, shame upon this noble house!" A shrill voice shrieked, after a rush of curtain fabric. Sirius sighed.
"Sorry, I should've warned you about my dear mother." He said bitterly, removing his hand from her mouth.
Mis smirked as and idea occurred to her.
"Allow me?" she asked Sirius politely. He looked confused a moment before gesturing forward with his hands.
"Please." He replied. Mis swaggered over to the portrait on the wall, where the hideous woman was screaming bloody murder. Mis cleared her throat.
"How's it going?…" Mis started, snapping her fingers, with her head cocked in thought "…Walburga!" she said with a triumphant smile at having remembered her name. The woman in question, who had an ugly grimace on her triple chinned face, paused in her screaming and the looked at the girl with a sneer.
"Are you a filthy mudblood as well?! Tainting the pure walls of this ancient house?" She demanded. Mis sniggered.
"Oh, goodness no, I'm a filthy muggle. No magic flows in these veins." She said in a politician voice, full of false charm and pleasantry. The woman looked horrified, and Mis smirked again. "Don't you worry though, I've got my own little abilities." She assured the woman happily, before she could scream again.
Mis cleared her throat again. "So here's the deal…Your permanent sticking charms mean precisely…well…dick, to me. I can rip your wannabe Henry the Eighth portrait of this wall, with little to no resistance." She said matter of factly, gaining a dark enjoyment from watching the woman's face go purple. She ran a finger along the edge of the picture delicately.
"The way I see it, you do what I say or I use this canvas as fire kindling…and I'll learn how to smelt metal just to destroy this tacky as fuck gold frame…hell, maybe I'll sell it and donate the profits to some muggleborn awareness organization." She said in a dangerously sweet voice, pulling her finger away and pretending to inspect it for dust before rubbing against her thumb disgustedly. The woman stayed silent for a minute, but Mis could sense she was building up for a solid yell. Mis held a finger up.
"Choose your next words carefully." She said in a light warning voice.
"How dare you? You think you can speak to me, filth?…" The portrait screamed.
Mis smiled darkly.
"To be honest, I was kinda hoping you would say something like that." She said conspiratorially, leaning in close before ripping the damn thing off the wall, bringing some wallpaper and about 20 years worth of dust with it. "Sirius, be a dove and get me some pliers." She said absently, holding the portrait away from her body as if it were something toxic, and looking at him over her shoulder. Sirius was jaw dropped, and didn't seem to understand what was happening.
"Why?" he asked confusedly.
"Because I'm about to preform a public service." She informed him with a smile. Sirius didn't move, he opted to just stare at her in complete awe and bewilderment. Mis raised her eyebrows.
"Unless, of course, you'd rather I put this thing back up on the wall…" She suggested with a tiny smirk. Sirius made several noises somewhere between the word "No" and several animated grunts before scrambling down the hall and into the kitchen. There were several crashes and bangs and Mis heard Sirius tear through drawers and cabinets in search of Mis' requested item. A few moments later, Sirius tore back through the hall, tossing her the pliers which she caught deftly in her outstretched hand. The portrait kept screaming, as Mis set it down and kneeled beside it, ripping out the felt back inconsiderate of casual damage, and proceeded to rip the canvas from its frame with a few more well executed movements of the pliers.
Moments later Sirius had a blaze going in the massive fireplace in the large sitting room across from the kitchen. Mis strutted in and was about to throw the continually screaming canvas into the fire when she saw Sirius out of the corner of her eye looking like a child on Christmas, complete with a wide grin and sparkling, mirthful eyes.
"Care to do the honors?" Mis asked, offering him the shrieking portrait. Sirius touched his heart, and his eye shone with unbridled gratitude as he took it from her.
"Mother…" He said to the portrait, in a rather pleasant tone. "Since I will never have the pleasure of seeing you burn in hell, this shall have to satisfy me." He said, with mock regret, before chucking the canvas into the flames.
The screams became warped as the fire licked at the canvas, the smell of burnt fabric and musky oil paints filled the room, and when the dreaded thing was a pile of black ash dusting the fire wood, Mis smiled. Sirius and Mis turned to each other at the same moment.
"That was a good line, how long you been working on that?" Mis asked with a straight face, but her dark eyes sparkling.
"Love, I'm strictly improv." Sirius said with dignity. Mis scoffed.
"Right." she said sarcastically and giving him a level look.
"That was the most enjoyment I've had in quite a while…Thanks." He said sincerely, looking into the fire. Mis clapped him on the back.
"I try."
"So what brings you, love?" Sirius asked Mis brightly.
"I was drafted to babysit, you got yourself a live in nanny." She said teasingly.
"Does that mean I have to call you 'ma'am'?" He asked with a cheeky smirk.
"I actually prefer the peasants to call me 'your magnificence' 'your royal awesomeness' or any variation thereof." She deadpanned. Sirius chuckled.
"Pardon me, didn't know I was entertaining royalty." He said with mock sincerity. Mis pretended to look long-suffering.
"I'm feeling merciful today, so I guess I won't have you beheaded." She said.
After that, Sirius picked up Mis' bags from the hallway and lead her up the stairs.
"You can stay here, I sleep right across." He said standing in the doorway, and pointing to the closed door opposite. Mis looked around the room. It was tidy, though there was a thick layer of dust on everything. There were two large bookshelves on either side of french doors leading to a small terrace. It was full of large, leather bound and ancient looking books. There was a writing desk made of a deep reddish wood, that had various stationary things resting on it, covered in a thin grey film of dust. The bed was large, with a simple black frame. The floor was light wood, and as seemed to be a theme in the wizarding world, there was a large, ornate fireplace.
However, the thing that really caught Mis' attention was the Slytherin color scheme, which was present in the wall colors, drapes, and rugs. Mis jolted when she figured who this room must've belonged to.
"I can take you to a different room if you don't like this one." Sirius said quickly, mistaking her silent observations for dislike.
"No, no. It's fine." Mis said absently, feeling a bit strange about being in Regulus Black's room. "It was your brother's wasn't it?" Mis asked, making her voice light and casual as she turned to look at Sirius. Sirius nodded.
"He was the prefect of the family. Always doing what he was told, until he cut tail and ran when he'd realized he'd gotten in too deep." Sirius said bitterly, his face twisting as if something sour were in his mouth. Mis felt a strange emotion that she couldn't fully identify, as if she were feeling regret on behalf of Regulus, and some kind of sad frustration that his brother didn't know that his final act was one of defiance towards the Dark Lord. Mis promised herself to tell him someday, but now wasn't the time, it would stir up to many questions.
"You know, I always wondered which house I'd be sorted into…" Mis started, trying to change the subject. "Always thought I'd be able to find out if I ever got to Hogwarts, you can imagine my disappointment when I realized the hat wouldn't work on me." She said conversationally. Sirius gave her a small smile.
"I mean, I've always thought I was a Slytherin, but who the hell knows, right?" She added with a smirk.
"So you've always been backhanded, devious, and cowardly?" He asked playfully. She rolled her eyes.
"No, I've always realized that the easiest, and most effective way to win is to convince everyone that you're not playing." She said with a dignified sniff. "You Gryffindor's, goin' around showing your cards and loyalties, y'all are more concerned as being perceived as righteous, than actually winning the game." She said, smirking up at him. He nodded thoughtfully,
"Some would say that it's not if you win or lose, it's how you play the game." He said smugly. Mis chuckled.
"Yeah, that's what the losers say."
Shortly thereafter, Mis learned that Sirius had sent Kreacher to be a part of the Hogwarts kitchens and cleaning staff. Something Mis wasn't thrilled about, but did understand. She also learned that Sirius had the culinary skills of poor college student and, although Mis wouldn't consider herself Wolfgang Puck, she was certainly capable of following a recipe. What she hadn't anticipated was the ancient cooking appliances and paraphernalia. "Literally, what the hell?" Mis cried, turning the knob on the cast iron stove. Sirius was watching her, apparently entertained by her ire.
"How am I supposed to cook with this goddamn relic?" she muttered to herself. She turned to Sirius, who was leaning against the doorway with folded arms and fighting a smile. "You." She said accusatorially. "Light it." She commanded, pointing to the ice cold stove.
"How am I supposed to know how to do it?" he asked, enjoying himself entirely too much. "That's it." She exclaimed. "First thing tomorrow we're bringing this place into the proper century, wizards are too damn impractical…" She blustered, before stopping mid tirade. "How attached are you to the design of this house?" she asked thoughtfully, cocking her head to one side and looking over the kitchen with a critical eye.
"If it were capable of turning it all to ash I would've done it already, why?" He said mildly. Mis nodded.
"How much money have you got?" She asked, raising her eyebrows.
"Dunno, over 200,000 galleons I expect. Why do you need to know?" He replied, looking rather confused. A slow smile spread across Mis' face.
"Well, your net worth is directly correlated to what part of Sweden we're going to in order to furnish this place." She said casually.
"Huh?" Sirius asked, looking at her as if she had gone crazy.
"Ikea or Copenhagen." She smirked.
After making Sirius send an owl to Dumbledore, requesting that some of his galleons be converted to muggle money and sent by tomorrow, Mis scoped out ingredients for a simple meal. Sirius's food stores left something to be desired but it was something she could work with. She didn't enjoy cooking, to her it was a means to an end and an art form she was certain she would never fully grasp. However, she did like being able to take care of others, and if that happened to involve cooking, so be it. She liked the idea of taking care of Sirius, and making sure he was fed was something she decided would be one of her many goals. So she went about her work happily, singing to herself as Sirius sat at the table and helped her to slice carrots while she browned chunks of roast in a large pot. It felt so comfortable, as if she had always been there, as her face got slightly red and dewy from leaning over the hot stove. She felt so much affection for the people she had met thus far, and it seemed to fill her up with something warm and comforting.
Mis loved to care for others, to protect, to nurture, and she took pride in it above anything else. If asked to slave, she would, and if asked to lead she would. It didn't matter to her if she was renowned or praised, and she knew that she'd been blessed to be among people with the same attitude. Despite her innate desire to help, however, she had a heart of wrath and vengeance, and she didn't like that about herself. That she could ignore her conscience and destroy without regret. Although she could never harm those whom she cared about, she knew that her heart was ice and rock to those she deemed unworthy of her time and loyalty.
She glanced at Sirius briefly and, not for the first time, wondered how she had gotten so lucky to be accepted so easily by him and the other Order members. She smiled involuntarily as she turned back around to continue cooking. She was going to make sure he would have plenty of time with Harry, and she intended to slave until he and Harry could be a proper family.
"So Ali's got Foreman wearing himself out, right? You know the rope-a-dope?" Mis asked, from where she stood in front of the table, with Sirius still sitting down and eating dinner. Sirius shook his head, enthralled with Mis' story. "Ok, the rope-a-dope is when a boxer falls on the ropes and lets himself get hit." She said, mimicking the movements of leaning against an invisible barrier and getting pelted.
"Why, would he let himself get hit?" Sirius asked with his eyes narrowed in confusion.
"Two reasons." she said. "Number one, when the other boxer throws a punch the main energy of the punch is absorbed in the ropes instead of on the guy getting hit. Number two, it tires out the offensive boxer." She said, before retaking up her impression of Foreman. "So, Foreman's tired by the fourth. You can see it in his movements, he's not dancing, flat footed and Ali's basically just chillin', could be checking his nails or combing his goddamn hair for all he's involved." Mis said, doing her best impression of someone sloshed out of their mind, and throwing wild haymakers. "More of the same for round six and seven… then the bell dings for eight. Foreman get's Ali on the ropes and, at this point, it needs to be acknowledged that George is just throwing spaghetti at the wall praying to god that something'll stick. He gets this little rush, throws a couple soft hits before Ali pops him two sneaky rights." Mis said, throwing two quick punches at thin air. "Foreman looks around, turns his back to Ali, before presumably remembering he was still boxing, and when he turns around Ali lays four on him, rapid fire, pow pow pow pow." She said, punctuating with several smart jabs to midair. "The crowd loses their bless'ed minds, as Foreman: the heavyweight champ, gets dropped like a friggen bag of dirt, and rolls around with little canaries circling his head while the ref counts him out."
"Eight rounds, you could count the number of times Ali nailed Foreman, honest to god. Best match ever…" Mis broke off, looking wistful. Mis chuckled softly as she sat back down in the seat opposite Sirius.
"My dad must've told me that story a thousand times. He actually saw it too, Congo '74 I think, it was before he met my mom…" Mis said with a small sad smile, before her eyes brightened. "He always said he won tickets to The Rumble in the Jungle on a lucky hand of Texas Hold 'em, I called bullshit on that." She said with a shake of her head. "My dad can't bluff to save his life." She said fondly, tearing off a piece of french bread and chewing thoughtfully.
"Do you miss them? you're family?" Sirius asked, watching her as if afraid she would burst into tears.
Mis let out a heavy sigh.
"Yeah, I do." she answered, looking up at Sirius grey eyes filled with concern. "You know what's funny? It's the little things I miss the most, the sound of my mom's slippers on the floor in the morning when I'm half asleep, my dad arguing with my brother about mowing the lawn, staying up till 3 in the morning talking about who's the most attractive member of the brat pack with my sister." Mis said in a voice that was distant and small. She felt her shoulders slouch under the weight of her fond memories. "Always a bit of black sheep in the family, but they loved me for it, always accepted me for precisely who I was." Mis said, not thinking that that statement might dig up old wounds for Sirius until the words left her mouth. Her eyes shot to him, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that." She said regretfully.
Sirius waved off her apology.
"These people here may have been related to me by blood, love, but they weren't my family." Sirius firmly, the ghost of a wry smile on his face. "The Potters were my family, they treated me how yours treated you. Mia and Fleamont are the ones who gave me a home…James liked to say he was the son they were stuck with but I was the one they chose." Sirius chuckled, before heaving a sigh. "I didn't deserve them, Merlin knows I didn't, but they put up with my youthful lunacy…" Sirius said fondly.
Mis watched him as he threaded his fingers through his wavy hair, unbinding it somewhat fretfully. "It never stops…you never stop missing them." He said, and there was such an inescapable sadness in his grey eyes; a dense loneliness that feels restless, and makes a person struggle against it, though resistance only causes it to grip tighter because it has roots in the bloodstream. Mis knew the kind of grief Sirius felt was constant, and though she wanted to say something to him that was both true and comforting, she couldn't. Any words that did occur to her were too weak, so she casually slid her bowl next to his own before walking around the table to sit next to him. She couldn't fix that sadness, and she knew it. She looked up at him, her eyes pleading with him; pleading with him to know that whatever weight he had to carry, she would never let him struggle under it alone. Something in the small brightening of his eyes let Mis know that he understood her meaning. She rested her head on his collar, nestling into his neck comfortably, he responded by wrapping an arm around her shoulders tenderly. Mis smiled when she felt him press a kiss to her hairline, then rest his cheek on top of her head.
"You're really quite sweet, you know?" Sirius said, phrasing it more like a statement than a question as he brushed her dark hair from falling in her eyes. Mis smirked.
"I have my moments." She said, chuckling lightly.
"Scandal!" Shouted a male voice in the doorway. Thanks to Mad-eye's training, instead of screaming as she would have normally done, she jolted from Sirius's arms and quickly picked up the first utensil she felt and threw it cleanly at the figure in the door way. It made a satisfying slap as it hit the forehead of Remus Lupin. He let out a cry of pain, and clutched his forehead as the utensil clattered to the ground.
"Christ, Remus! Don't sneak upon me like that, I could've hurt you." Mis said, in a tone half relieved and half irritated. It took Sirius a moment to realize what had happened, but when he did, he began cackling madly. Mis stood up, glancing at Sirius's form, now shaking with silent, painful looking laughter.
Still clutching his head, Remus bent down and retrieved the utensil from the floor.
"Ah yes, death by spooning." He said mildly, hold up the offending piece of silverware.
"I don't think that's the typical usage of the word 'spooning.'" She said, now fighting back a smile.
"What were you trying to do Sirius?" Remus asked, mock suspicion in his voice as he narrowed his eyes at Sirius.
"She was attempting to steal my virtue." Sirius said defensively, getting a hold of himself by wiping his streaming eyes on his shirt sleeve, as Mis lead Remus over to the table and offered him a seat.
"…And it would've worked if you hadn't come barging in, I excepted to be the lady of the house by midnight…I mean all those galleons." Mis added casually to Remus, her back turned as she fixed another plate of bread and bowl of soup, and setting it in front of him. He smiled gratefully before digging in.
"You were going to use me for my money?" Sirius asked, appalled as he placed an effeminate hand on his chest as if wounded. Mis raised her eyebrows innocently.
"Well, that…and I think you'd look cute on my arm." She said sweetly. Sirius shrugged and nodded in acquiescence.
"Well played, Mis. Work his vanity, it never fails." Remus said, toasting a chunk of bread at her. Mis winked at Remus out of the corner of her eye.
"Ok, I don't want to see the two of you get too chummy." Sirius said sternly, narrowing his grey, twinkling eyes at her. Mis raised her brows at him and smirked.
"Jealous?" She asked, linking her arm with Remus's.
"Don't you dare bring me into your collective insanity." Remus said, though his mouth was full of soup. He tried to extricate himself, but Mis held firm.
"Hush." she said to him absently, keeping her eyes on Sirius. Remus rolled his eyes and shook his head as he continued eating with one arm occupied.
"You about to go all John Lennon up in here?" She asked Sirius pleasantly. "Were you dreaming of the past? and your heart, is it beating fast?" she asked, pausing for dramatic effect. "Are you just a jealous guy?" she asked, as if talking to a small child.
Sirius stood abruptly, and leaned over the table.
"Are you mocking me?" Sirius asked, his voice low and menacing.
"Are you mocking me?" She imitated childishly, pulling a goofy face.
"Oh, clever." Sirius replied, unimpressed.
"It wasn't meant to be clever, it was meant to be provoking." Mis replied tartly, still clutching Remus's arm. Sirius narrowed his eyes at her.
"Right." He said with a decisive nod before scaling the table then jumping on the other side. He tried to grab her but she had seen his move from a mile away, so she quickly scrambled out of her seat, dragging Remus up in the process and turning him into a barrier between her and Sirius.
"Remus, he's trying to attack me." She said accusatorially, shifting Remus by the shoulders in an attempt to block Sirius from getting to her. Remus looked over his shoulder at her.
"You deserve it." He said mildly, taking a bite of the bread in his hand.
"Remus, protect me." She whined, spinning him around as Sirius tried to get at her. "You got yourself into this and, as I said before, I will not be a party to the lunacy you two seem to be so fond of." He said, before side stepping quickly out of her reach. She yelped as Sirius lunged at her, and dodged him just in the nick of time. She laughed gleefully as he chased her around the kitchen, not remembering the last time she had so much fun. He wasn't backing off and she could see a determination, as well as mirth in his eyes as she glanced at him over her shoulder, while they continued running in circles around the table. Thinking fast, she stopped and spotted a small bowl of butter she had set out for the bread on the table near Remus, who was ignoring them in favor of the soup. With an agility she hadn't known she possessed, she leapt onto the table, grabbed the bowl and slid off the table landing deftly on the other side in one movement. Dipping her hand in the bowl, she scooped a large glob into her hand and held it up in warning. Sirius froze, and stood up straight from his predatory crouch.
"Yeah, that's right. You think good and hard about what you're gonna do next." She said, with a triumphant laugh.
"You wouldn't." He said skeptically. Mis let a slow smirk curl her lips.
"I never bluff." She said, and lobbed it at Sirius as hard as she could. She saw it all in slow motion, Sirius's eyes went wide and he tried to dodge the butter flying through the air, but Mis had anticipated his movement. It landed squarely on his hollow of his cheek, and the smack was music to her ears as it splattered across his face and down his jaw. Time paused as Mis took in Sirius; her buttered masterpiece.
She gasped as the laughter began to escape her lips, in stuttered, hysterical convulsions. She was so preoccupied with her laughter, that sounding like a strangling cat, that she didn't see Sirius walk over to her soberly, as if he had important business to discuss. She didn't know she was in peril until she felt a wet smack to her forehead. She squealed, and started laughing harder while Sirius made sure to paint her entire face sloppily.
"It's nice to see maturity and decorum in such an insane and backwards world." Remus said wistfully, while Mis and Sirius laughed like toddlers. They both turned to look at Remus, who's amber eyes were shining, though his countenance was stern. Mis shook her head, knowing that she had to make the obvious joke.
"Don't try and butter us up with compliments, Moonshine."
After Sirius and Mis had finished scrubbing their faces of butter in the kitchen sink. They sat back down while Remus finished his soup.
"What brings you Remus?" Sirius asked jovially, drying off his face with a towel while he took a seat opposite the werewolf.
"I was evicted from the complex on lexington that Dumbledore set me up in…The owner said he didn't want werewolves…said it was bad for business." Remus said with a shrug of his shoulders. Sirius nodded understandingly. Mis froze as a righteous and surprisingly intense anger boiled up from deep in her gut and to her throat, were it seemed caught like a large, bitter pill.
"What?" Mis asked in a voice that was low and dangerous. Remus looked at her with something like gratitude that she would have such a fierce reaction, but what made the rage in her body burn hotter was the look of resigned acceptance on his face. Remus gave her a small smile,
"Such is life, Mis. There's no point in getting angry. I'm dangerous, I understand the man's perspective." He said diplomatically. Mis might have been able to bite down her anger if Remus hadn't been so damn calm.
"No, I reject that!" She said emphatically, and she could feel her face going red.
"People shouldn't be blamed for things out of their control, it's like holding the sins of the father as accountable on the son. It's bullshit!" She shouted, rising from her seat violently as if she were not sure about what to do with her body. She desperately wanted to break something, or perhaps combust in a blaze of cosmic injustice. She paced for several moments trying to master herself, before turning to Remus with conviction.
"What's the fucker's name? I'll strangle him." she said in a surprisingly level voice. She meant every word too. To her, the people she loved were her's to protect and care for, and no one was permitted to hurt what was her's.
"Deep calming breaths, Mis." Remus said mildly, giving her a wry smile. She huffed angrily, Sirius chuckled, "It's no use, love. Remus doesn't name name's, I've been trying to get them out of him since we were 15." Sirius said, looking at Mis with appreciation.
"Where are you staying?" Mis asked in a business tone. Remus shrugged his shoulders, "I took my stuff to a muggle motel about 12 blocks from here." He said. "You can stay here, Remus. You know that." Sirius said gently. "I appreciate that, Padfoot, but you know how I feel about charity." He replied. Sirius nodded, and Mis got the impression that they had had this conversation many times. Mis thought quickly, she doubted Remus would bend if she were to put on the 'obey me' face she had inherited from her mother, so she needed another way to get him to stay. Mis suspected he thought himself a burden, but she knew how to handle that kind of person. She allowed herself the slightest smirk at Sirius before sitting down beside the werewolf. She fixed her face to look sweet and pleading. "I would really enjoy your company here, Remus, please stay." She said, making sure to keep her voice gentle and demure. She kept her head down and fiddled with her hands, acting as if she were shy to ask. Going in for the kill she thought to herself as she slowly looked up at him with large doe eyes.
"Please?" she asked again, her voice childlike and hopeful. She knew he wouldn't refuse her if she made it seem like he was doing her a favor. Remus seemed like a deer in headlights, he hadn't expected this kind of attack and Mis knew he wasn't prepared for it. He flustered for a moment, before letting out a sigh. "Oh, fine. If it means so much." He said sheepishly. She gasped happily, and gave him a wide, pretty smile. "It does." She said sincerely, before clearing her throat and regaining her normal countenance. "Now, go get your stuff, you can have some dessert when you get back." She said casually, patting his head affectionately, as if he were a well behaved child. Remus narrowed his eyes at her, before glancing at Sirius who shrugged while smirking up a storm. Remus furrowed his brow as he got up, looking like he was trying to figure out what had just happened. When she heard the front door open and close, she looked at Sirius with a smug, self satisfied look on her face. She leaned back slightly and crossed her arms, "God, I'm good." She said to herself appreciatively. "Humble too." Sirius muttered while rolling his eyes. She raised her eyebrows at him, "Bitch, I'm MC Hammer…'cause you can't touch this." She said sassily, followed promptly by a well executed hair flip.
Mis made good on her word, and as soon as Remus came back, several luggages and trunks following behind him with a levitation spell, she served him a slice of the lemon pound cake she'd made. Between the three of them they finished off the cake, and then proceeded to complain about their overstuffed stomachs until Mis decided it was time to turn in. "Thanks for coming, Mis." Sirius said before she walked up to her designated room. "Anytime." She said with a smile. "Night, Sirius. Night, Moonshine." She said sweetly, before scaling the stairs and going into her room for some much deserved sleep.
Draco Malfoy had been summoned. He had woken up to his left forearm feeling as though molten metal was being poured over it. He bit his lip to keep from howling and waking his dorm mates. He checked the time on the watch he kept on his nightstand. 4:15 on the dot. He clutched his forearm as if his cold hand would offer relief, but of course it managed nothing of the sort. His heart coursing from the pain, he stripped off his pajamas and kept his teeth on his lower lip until several drops of blood spilled down his chin. He cursed softly as he dressed all in black. When he was finished he picked up his wand with shaking hands, and muttered a healing charm before disappearing noiselessly from his dorm and through the Slytherin commons.
It was bitingly cold as he strode through the grounds to the apperation point outside of the imposing school gate, yet still his arm was blazing painfully. He turned on the spot the moment he breached the anti-apperation barrier. He felt the blackness squeeze the breath from his lungs for a moment before popping into existence on the stoop outside the large intricate door to his home. He steeled himself before holding his head up, and placing an emotionless mask upon his face. The manor was blessedly warm, and the familiar smell of fresh cut flowers and wood varnish calmed him before he noted a foreign smell that fell somewhere between raw red meat, and rust. It made him feel ill, but he didn't allow the familiar sting of embarrassment that his family had fallen so far from grace and The Dark Lord himself treated his home like a goddamn motel.
He pushed his emotions down as he always did. He heard a two soft voices talking, and walked towards the soft murmurs. He walked through the foyer, and caught a glimpse of firelight flickering through the stained glass doors that led to his father's study. He stood before it for a moment, trying to erect the occlumancy walls in his mind the way Snape had taught him, before striding in confidently. "Draco." Came the soft hiss of the Dark Lord. "Timely as ever." He said, inclining his head. For a moment, Draco was taken aback. That was certainly a compliment albeit a small one.
"I'm here to serve, my Lord." Draco said, bowing his head. Voldemort chuckled, "You've taught your boy well, Narcissa." He said softly, favoring the woman with an almost proud look. "Please sit, son." The Dark Lord said, gesturing to the chair next to Narcissa at the large rectangular table. Draco walked to it, and sat down calmly, sharing a curious glance with his mother. "I'm pleased with how you and your mother have managed to obtain the company of The Girl, and I want you to be made aware that I keep my word to those you are worthy of it." The Dark Lord began. Draco felt himself sit straighter, proud of Voldemort's praise despite himself. "Lucius, failed miserably last year at the Ministry. I, however, have decided to grant him a reprieve, based on the loyalty of you and your mother. He will be welcomed back, because I admire the skill with which he has raised his family, and has instilled such willingness to serve in them." Voldemort's voice felt like a chill along Draco's skin, but his words made the young mans eyes widen slightly in hope.
Draco heard his mother gasp, "Thank you, my Lord. Thank you." She said, and Draco couldn't help but feel ill at the way she bowed her head, looking so weak and servile. He heard a choking sob being stifled. Voldemort tsked softly, "Now, now." He said in a purr. Voldemort's hand reached out to her with his spidery grey hands and yellowed, long finger nails. Delicately, he placed a finger under her chin and tipped up her face. "No more tears." The Dark Lord said, in an obscene imitation of comfort. "I apologize, My Lord." Draco's mother said, sniffling slightly.
"Draco." The Dark Lord began, causing the young man to tear his eyes away from his mother.
"Show me what transpired when The Girl accepted your invitation." His voice was soft, but there was still an undercurrent of authority to his words. Draco felt his blood run cold, the Dark Lord had never requested to look into his mind. He wasn't a strong enough occlumence to resist the bleed through of his emotions when his memories were viewed. Draco had no choice but to comply, "Of course, My Lord." He felt the Dark lord enter his mind wordlessly. There was a brief moment where the Dark Lord flicked through his memories before finding the one from that one early morning.
The sky was pale overhead, the clouds still dark and dusted with dark purple as the sun threatened to rise. He heard her voice before he saw her, it was high and gentle, a perfect singing voice for lullabies, he thought. He crept towards the sound, worried she might stop if she heard him approach. Quietly, he stepped onto the dock, and saw her sitting on the edge, legs swinging overtop the black, glassy water carelessly. Her small form cut a dark silhouette and she swayed minutely in rhythm to her song. "Hungry wings, their melodies, while my love awakens me, in the midst of the sunburst first light. Her hands are holding up the sky, while I hid my open eyes, every move just for herself and that's alright…" She sang to herself almost as if she didn't realize it. The melody, he'd heard it before, somewhere that he couldn't place. The lyrics too were bringing something foggy to his mind, but as he reached for the memory it fell farther out of his grasp.
Her voice was soothing, and something deep in his chest ached for it's tenderness to be directed at him. In the darkness she seemed distant, an island in the middle of a calm sea that no one can reach. He felt another constricting sensation in his chest and wondered if she was lonely, he almost laughed aloud at his own sentimentality. There was nothing lonely about her, despite her solitude. She was an island, but a welcoming one should someone reach her shores. Never seeking comfort, only offering it, like a deep well of cool water.
She still sang as he approached her, "That sounds familiar, what's that song called?" He asked. She stopped singing mid line, but didn't seem startled as she turned to look at him. "Darkest Hour by Arlo Gutherie." She replied, a small knowing smile on her lips. Her dark hair was pulled away from her face in a high ponytail, with several strands stuck to her slender neck. Her face was dewy from her run, and her cheeks were rosy both from exertion and the cold. The masculine clothes she was wearing made her seem smaller than usual, almost painfully vulnerable. Despite that, she looked contented, sitting in the dark of the early morning as if she were apart of it, as if she belonged to the nature around her, or it belonged to her. Her countenance fit effortlessly into the stillness and the dark.
He jolted slightly when he realized he'd been staring at her. Feeling a little foolish, he walked over and sat next to her. "I don't remember offering you a seat." She said with her tone imperious, but her eyes laughing. Draco felt Voldemort's impatience in his mind, and saw the scene speed up in front of his eyes.
"I wanted to say thank you…again, and…My mother is having a party at the Manor on Halloween and we would be honored if you would grace us with your attendance." Draco said, his heart pounding in fear of being rejected. He could tell she was considering, and after what felt like an eternity, her lips broke into a demure but strangely heart racing smile. "I'd love to, Draco." She said kindly, and he was wondering if it was wishful thinking, but was there a bit of cheeky suggestion in her voice? The thought must've shown in his face, because the next moment she let out the softest giggle. His face felt hot, "Good…that's good." He stuttered embarrassingly.
His heart seized in his chest as she lent forward and gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek. Her lips were soft and warm, and something like warm honey settled in his gut as she pulled back. "Why did you do that?" He asked in genuine confusion, then nearly kicking himself for asking such a childish question. Her laugh was playful, and her eyes held a strange lightness. "Because I like seeing you squirm." She said, in a tone that made his entire body tense like a wire cord stretched beyond capacity. Mis was such a tease, and apparently she thought herself to be quite humorous, furthermore, she seemed to know the effect she had. Almost involuntarily, he lent his face close to hers. He couldn't help but smirk at the suddenly serious look on Mis' face. He liked this little game, it was effortless with her. "Funny…I was going to say the same thing." He said, deepening his voice to a purr. Her smirking pink mouth was opened slightly, her eyes were curious and, despite their color which reflected their dark surroundings there was a sparkle in them that Draco found tempting.
He pulled back as her rosy cheeks reddened further and he could see a vein in her neck beating. What he wanted to do was run his lips along that vein to feel its intense, erratic beat. It was a playful power struggle and he offered her a self-satisfied smile as he leaned back, resting his arms behind him on the dock casually. Some dangerous fire lit her eyes a moment later. With painfully slow movements, she lent over him. Her eyes were watching his own and he felt, that if she so desired, she could lay out each secret he carried, and flip through the pages of his mind at her leisure. He almost jumped out of his skin at the sudden feeling of the back of her hand graze the top of his leg. Although it was a feather touch, it caused a deeply exquisite tightness in his gut that spread throughout his entire body, it was like an intoxicating cocktail of firewiskey and adrenaline.
The Dark Lord pulled himself from Draco's mind abruptly, and suddenly the dim, flickering firelight of his father's study came back into focus. He felt the tightness still in his belly, but as he looked at the Dark Lord, fear overcame it. Voldemort had a twisted smile on his face, it was smug and Draco knew that in another life, before Voldemort's face had been ravaged by dark magic, that smile had been charming. "Well, well." He said, his voice deep and purring. Draco swallowed. "It seems I've set my sights on a little viper, haven't I?" He mused to himself softly, before letting out a cackle that made Draco's skin prickle unpleasantly. "Poor boy." He said in mock sympathy, while cutting Draco with his glowing red eyes. "You've been played like the sweet little fiddle you are, Draco." He said, almost making the young man believe he felt regretful in some way, but the Dark Lord's devil smirk couldn't lie.
Draco felt ice in his veins, chilling him to his core and freezing over his heart. "Such a sweet face… pure as moonlight falling on a virgin bed." He hissed at Draco tauntingly, idly twirling his bone white wand through his fingers. "Oh, but those eyes…tell me, do they always look so…tantalizing?" He asked smoothly, and although his face showed no sign of emotion, there was a horrifying glint in his red eyes that made him look like a hungry predator. It was then, as Draco watched the disturbed, ravenous flicker in the Dark Lord's eyes, that he realized what he had done to Mis…He had been a vehicle for her damnation.