This chapter contains a few quotes from Prisoner of Azkaban. Some of the wording is intentionally off a little, Mel imprecisely remembering what was said.
Mel hesitated, just for a moment, her hand floating inches off the wood of the door. Then she took a last breath in private, knocked as hard as she thought she could without hurting herself. The doors in the castle were really thick, it could be hard to hear sometimes.
She'd waited for a couple seconds before there was a barely discernible flutter of magic, the door clicking open of its own accord. Ignoring the casual display of what had certainly been wandless magic as well as she could, Mel slipped inside, pushing the door closed behind her. She wasn't entirely surprised when she noticed the sharp tang of privacy and isolation charms snapping into place — they weren't nearly so strong as those around his office, but Snape had clearly seen fit to ward the room they were meeting in today too.
She didn't notice Snape at the long-abandoned instructor's desk at the side of the room until he spoke, in that same flat, emotionless voice he used with her pretty much constantly now. Unless he was annoyed about something specific, anyway. 'Sit down,' he said, pointing to the floor in the middle of the cleared room, where there would have been desks if the room were in use. Sort of looked wrong, actually, a classroom with no desks in it. Right where he was pointing, there was a circle in the floor, lined with a string of runes. Not carved into it, or painted or drawn, but formed out of a soft, silvery light, seemingly set into the stone, close enough to the surface to shine through.
Trying to ignore the distracting tingles setting in along her neck and arms, Mel started for the circle. 'Leave my wand outside of the circle, right?'
'Anything with any sort of magic on it.' Snape's eyes narrowed, just slightly. 'You did remember to wear muggle clothing, yes?'
'Yes, sir.' She hadn't actually had any muggle clothes before Snape had explained and scheduled this lesson here, at the end of their meeting a couple days ago, but she'd been motivated enough to make sure it was taken care of — the thought of needing to undress for a lesson with Snape was mortifying, completely unbearable. It was mildly surprising Snape couldn't tell just looking. The skirt and jumper she was wearing weren't too distinctly muggle-ish, but the cloth was visually different enough she could tell. Though it was possible Snape just payed less attention than...
Come to think of it, she wasn't entirely sure when she'd picked it up herself. She had the sneaking suspicion she must have been paying far more attention to her clothes than she was entirely comfortable with. Did it still count if she wasn't consciously aware she'd been doing it? She didn't know, she'd managed to confuse herself...
Anyway, yes, okay. They were doing a thing now. Mel walked up to the edge of the circle, dropped her bag outside. After a bit of fiddling with the buckles, she placed her holster, complete with wand, balanced right on top. Right. Stepping over the line felt slightly weird, though she couldn't say exactly how. A wave of prickling static washing over her, every inch head to toe — which was a bit uncomfortable, she tried to ignore that. Just for an instant, the air tasted somehow sharper, a faint hint of metal on the air, before disappearing again as she stepped fully inside, instead turning...stale? That wasn't the right word. Somehow empty, somehow dead. Getting down to the floor was more awkward than it had to be; if she'd known there wouldn't be chairs, she might have worn something else. She hesitated a moment, glancing shortly at Snape, before deciding to just sit with her legs folded, crossed at the ankle in front of her. Somewhat odd in a skirt, yes, but it was long enough and loose enough she could get away with it.
Snape delayed another brief moment — writing something, clearly, no clue what. After some seconds, that oddly empty voice was again drifting across the air, so softly she almost missed it. 'I suppose you haven't practised any wandless magic. I know you can manage that trick with your voice, but that is a simple extrapolation for a Parselmouth.'
She thought for a second. 'Not technically, no.'
He glanced up, inhumanly steady eyes meeting hers. It was really quite unnerving, the way he had of just staring at people. 'Elaborate.'
'I've done wandless magic, er...' She broke off a second to count. 'Three times? I think it's three times. Well, three times not counting, you know.' She gestured at herself with a hand — that had technically been wandless magic, right? 'But I'm not sure they really count.'
'Describe these incidents.' So Mel did. The first one she mentioned, when Remus had made her angry and she'd nearly destroyed the room before venting her magic intentionally, Snape quickly declared was accidental magic. More directed than usual, but the same basic idea. Then she talked about blasting open the doors in Dumbledore's office without even drawing her wand, despite that he'd magicked them closed somehow. It could be her imagination, but Snape's face actually shifted a bit, eyes wider and both brows raised. Barely, but noticeable. 'That likely wouldn't qualify either. Nonetheless, impressive. Not entirely surprising, I suppose, but impressive all the same.'
'I'm sorry, sir, what's impressive about it?'
Snape gave her a look at that. She wasn't sure what kind, but there was definitely something there. She hoped it wasn't because she was still calling him "sir". She'd gotten a response from Andi about apprenticeship etiquette shite, with a very direct warning that wasn't everything, and she'd be told more in person over winter break. She knew that, technically, she was supposed to be calling Snape "master" now. Which, no, she would not be doing that. If they were in some...proper society thing, whatever, some formal context it was expected, she would swallow her revulsion and just do it, but when she wasn't required to, nope, not gonna. Snape had told her he didn't care about that stuff — since he was a halfblood himself, and had been raised mostly in the muggle world, that wasn't so strange — so she hadn't expected him to mind. She really hoped he wasn't going to make an issue of it, that would be dreadfully uncomfortable.
Also, apparently, being his apprentice also meant she was allowed and even expected to use his first name, Andi had mentioned that too — the proper address wasn't "Master Snape", but "Master Severus". Wasn't supposed to use it without the title, but still, the thought was very strange. She'd been calling him Snape in her head for so long she couldn't imagine switching to anything else.
'One day, Melantha—' Of course, he got to use her first name too. At least she hadn't winced this time. '—you will have to acknowledge just what you are.'
She frowned. That wasn't an answer. That wasn't an answer at all. 'And what am I?'
For long seconds, Snape just stared at her, eyes heavy and cold. God, she hated it when he did that. She tried not to fidget too much, but she was sure it was very noticeable. 'It is really quite simple. You could break Dumbledore's sealing charm as you did because the instinctual magic you cast was more powerful. Simple.'
'You're saying I...' She could hear the doubt on her own voice, thick and slow and dragging. '...overpowered Dumbledore.'
'I'm certain he did not put everything he had into keeping those doors closed, but you managed to overwhelm what power he did commit, yes. From what I know of the Headmaster, and I would say I understand him quite well by now, he put what he thought was more than enough into his sealing charm to prevent you from breaking it. In fact, I suspect he only let you leave because he was, shall we say, unsettled by your display of unanticipated magical strength. He likely would have kept you there otherwise.'
That... Even granting Snape's assumption Dumbledore hadn't put everything he had into it, the thought that Mel could have come anywhere close to matching him in raw power was...insane. Just insane, that's all. 'But... But, he's Dumbledore. Am I really that...?'
Now Snape looked slightly annoyed. The expression was mild enough it was hard to tell from halfway across the room, but she was nearly certain his eyes had narrowed, lips curling. 'Yes, of course. He's Dumbledore. How silly of me, I must have forgotten.' Mel opened her mouth to protest — though, once again, she wasn't entirely sure what the hell she was going to say — but Snape went on before she could think of anything. 'Far too many people give our High Enchanter too much credit, but simultaneously not enough. Albus Dumbledore is not an especially powerful wizard, Melantha. Or, to be more precise, he is not innately especially powerful, was not gifted with greater magical potential at birth.'
Well, of course. Of course she was going to be wrong about that. She'd been figuring out she'd been wrong about so many fucking things these days, she honestly shouldn't expect to be right about anything anymore. 'Then why does everyone say he is? And, you know, he can do a lot of magic other people can't...'
'Dumbledore is not especially gifted magically. However, he is especially gifted intellectually. Even as a student, he was accomplishing magical feats far beyond his years, inventing new spells or applications of existing magics previously unknown. This was not because he is especially powerful, but because he is especially clever. While power is a great asset for most forms of spellcasting, a sufficiently sharp mind can often make up the difference.
'Of course, Dumbledore is far more powerful than most mages you've ever met, but this is a more recent development. You should have learned in Magical Theory, back in second year, that the total volume of magical energy a person can channel at once gradually increases with each spell cast. Not by a lot, but noticeably. Dumbledore is older than virtually every mage you know, by a significant margin. He has been casting magic every day for roughly a hundred years. So he is powerful now, but he was not always so. Even a mediocre mage who uses magic as often for as long as he has will, in time, become just as powerful.'
Oh, well. Mel guessed that did make a bit of sense. They had talked about that in class — that had been years ago now, but she vaguely remembered. She had heard it mentioned before that Voldemort was more powerful than Dumbledore, but Dumbledore had still won all their duels without too much difficulty, suggesting very clearly that raw power wasn't everything. Many people seemed to think Voldemort had done some dark ritual or another to augment his magical abilities, but Mel thought it should be possible Voldemort had just been born more powerful than Dumbledore had. Dumbledore would have been able to overpower him for a while, yes, but Voldemort would also grow in power as he aged just naturally, inevitably outstripping the elder sorcerer — Mel recalled something about that minuscule increase in power being proportional to the amount they started with, so more gifted mages grew more powerful more quickly.
Wait. Wait a second. Oh, how had she never noticed this before?! Hermione had constantly nagged Ron and herself about not just doing their written work, but practising their wanded spells to perfection. For the most part, they'd done their best to avoid doing it. She remembered, back in first and second year, that she could easily reverse most of Hermione's spellwork — if she even knew how, she meant — while Hermione had sometimes had trouble cancelling even simple jinxes from Mel. By the time fourth year had come around, and Hermione had been helping her prepare for the Tournament, it had been an entirely different story. Mel had been powerless to dispel her hexes (unless sufficiently angry, anyway), Hermione had more than once completely overwhelmed her shield charms (much as Mel could now do with their entire study group, in fact). Obviously, Mel had started more powerful, but Hermione's almost constant use of magic over the years had eventually carried her to surpass Mel's inborn talent.
Of course, Mel was now more powerful than Hermione again — it wasn't even hard to shatter her shields or dispel her curses or reverse her transfigurations, just a slight tick of effort more than normal. Which...now that she thought about it, that was very strange. She'd been using far more magic these last couple months, both more powerful spells and more often, than she ever had before. But that was comparatively recent, only starting in September, and she suspected she'd already passed Hermione again by some point in the summer. How did...
Snape obviously noticed she'd been distracted thinking of something, letting out a soft, impatient sigh. 'Well, spit it out, then.'
Right. Oops. Supposed to be having a conversation here. 'Ah, sorry, sir. It's just, is it just me, or... I have the feeling I'm more powerful now than I was at the end of last year.'
'You're not wrong. I believe your little transformation is responsible. The phenomenon has been observed before. While it does not normally make such a dramatic difference, this is not entirely unexpected.'
Oh, okay then. Snape would be more likely to know than she, she hardly knew anything about the whole business. Though, it suddenly occurred to her, it was also possible the horcrux formerly in her head now being gone could have contributed too. She could imagine some of her magic might have been, she didn't know, tied up shielding herself from it, or something, and only now could she actually use it. That seemed reasonable to her. Okay. 'So, I am one of those especially powerful mages, is what you're saying.'
Snape's eyebrow ticked up slightly. 'Yes. In fact, as of this season you are the single most powerful student in your year.'
'Really?' She'd noticed she was toward the more powerful end, sure, but...
'With the possible exception of Longbottom.'
Mel blinked. 'Huh?'
As Snape spoke, he did sound annoyed — that slightly sharp, slightly chill way he got — but he wasn't even looking in her direction, eyes narrowed at the wall to his right. So it was probably annoyance directed at Neville, not her. 'Longbottom is, perhaps, the single most naturally gifted mage I have ever met. Not entirely surprising — his father was one of the more powerful Aurors, and the only reason his mother wasn't the greatest mage of our generation is because she happened to be the same age as Lily. He would likely already be considered one of the rising stars of your generation if his potential weren't crippled by extenuating circumstances. His own emotional issues, exacerbated by what I gather to be a less-than-ideal home environment. Lady Longbottom foolishly insisting the boy use his father's wand, which is so idiotic I hadn't thought she were capable of it. Disappointing.
'Although...' Snape trailed off, turning his head a bit to give Mel a steady, considering sort of look. 'Filius and Minerva have mentioned Longbottom's work in wand-intensive courses has improved dramatically in recent months. You wouldn't happen to have anything to do with that?'
Oh. Erm. Mel was really starting to wish they'd just gone straight into the lesson, because this was awkward. All too aware of how much she was shifting in place, she muttered, 'Er, it's possible I might have given him my wand. Sir.'
It could be Mel's imagination, but she thought Snape might be stunned. His eyes were slightly wider, leaning slightly further back in his chair, the silence stretching longer than it should have. His mouth even opened, only to close a moment later, before opening again to actually speak. Huh. 'You gave the Longbottom boy your wand.'
'Yes, sir. My old one, I mean.'
'Your old one?'
She nodded. 'My first wand stopped working for me after my, ah, little transformation, as you put it. I didn't need it anymore, and we gave it a try, and it worked better for him than it did for me. It seemed the thing to do.'
'It did? Fascinating.' Snape was silent a moment, blankly staring at the desk in front of him. Rather than interrupt his thoughts, which she'd already learned after only a couple days never went well, Mel waited as patiently as she could, her fingers tapping at her knees. 'Did you notice anything else? Differences in your own magical performance, I mean.'
'Other than being a bit more powerful than before?' She shrugged. 'Not really? I mean, my magic seems to be far more easily affected by my moods than before — I remember one time I accidentally almost destroyed a toilet when I was really angry, those times with Remus and Dumbledore — but I think that's related to the power thing.' Snape gave a slight nod, a confirmation that hadn't been really necessary. 'Oh, and my patrōnus changed. Haven't really noticed anything else.'
'That's not entirely surprising. Was it a large change? I mean, is it now an entirely different sort of animal than it'd been before? And are you using a different memory to inspire it?'
Mel stared at him, the answer to the first question frozen in her throat when she caught the second. 'A different memory? That matters?'
'Yes.' With a flick of a wrist, Snape's wand appeared in his hand; Mel tried not to flinch. Still sitting behind the desk, Snape gave an absent wave. She noticed he was casting it both silently and without the proper wand movements. Nonetheless, a stream of white-silver light flowed like water from the tip, quickly collecting into the form of a large eagle. Hawk? Some sort of bird, anyway. It was somewhat odd seeing a patrōnus without feeling the pleasant rush of protective white magic that universally came with it — the circle she was in must be blocking it off, seemed reasonable. After a single circuit of the room, Snape visibly gathered himself again. With a brief, furtive look in her direction, he cast the charm again, this time taking the form of a large feline of some kind, she wasn't sure which. She did note it looked strikingly similar to her mother's in that memory, what her own looked like these days. Once that one dissipated, he did it again, this time conjuring an ethereal doe. One more time, and it was a...a fox? Yes, that looked like a fox. When that one dissipated, his wand vanished up his sleeve. 'A different memory, slight nuances in the shade of the emotion, give rise to a noticeably different expression. Such magics are often finicky in that way. It's not uncommon for a master of the charm to be able to cast a patrōnus in several different forms. Lily had three, that I know of.'
Huh. Somehow, that had never come up in Remus's lessons on the subject. Though she was inclined to believe these days Remus hadn't been precise in what he'd been teaching anyway. None of the memories Mel had ever used to fuel a patrōnus had been what she would call happy, not exactly, but it'd always worked for her anyway — there must be more to the charm than Remus had told her. 'What were they?'
'A leopard, a doe, and a jay.'
'A jay? The bird, you mean.'
'Yes, the bird. It was her animaga form, apparently.'
For a couple seconds, Mel could only stare at him. 'What? My mother was an animagus?'
Snape gave her a slightly exasperated look. 'It's properly "animaga" when speaking of a woman. And yes, she was, though I never had opportunity to see it for myself. Apparently, Lily grew quite bored trapped in one place inside a Fidēlius for so long, because she took the opportunity to become an animaga for no better reason than to have something to do. She told me she was a jay, mostly red and orange with black wings speckled blue. Now, have we finally exhausted your questions for the present moment?'
Mel couldn't help a wince. 'Ah, yes, sorry.'
He didn't move on right away, though. An intensely uncomfortable expression taking over his face — intense enough it was very clearly visible, which hardly ever happened with him — Snape hesitated for a long moment, eyes flicking between her and that spot on the wall. 'It should probably go without saying that it would be best to not draw attention to the fact that Longbottom is using your wand around the young Lady Bones.'
Despite herself, Mel felt heat rising in her cheeks, had to look away. She was aware mages put a lot of cultural importance on wands, obviously. But since she hadn't grown up as one, it was just a thing she knew, not something she felt. She had absolutely no problem with letting Neville have her old wand, especially since she didn't even need it anymore. But she knew other mages would see that as very unusual, and very significant. Given that they were opposite sexes now, the immediate assumption would be... Well, er, lovers, yes, that's what people would think.
Hence Neville getting all weird around her lately. He'd been somewhat more awkward around her ever since the girl stuff started happening anyway, yes, and he'd been really embarrassed when she'd given him the thing in the first place. But he'd been far more prone to awkward stammering and inexplicable flushes ever since he'd started using the thing, clearly somewhat uncomfortable with the implications, even while knowing she didn't mean it that way.
Not that Mel was particularly worried about Susan finding out about it. She hadn't told her, but she knew she would understand. Probably with another exasperated shake of her head and something about forgetting sometimes she'd been raised by muggles, but it wouldn't be a problem.
It was just...unspeakably...unsettling having Snape point it out. She had absolutely no idea how to react to that.
'I believe there was a third event you were thinking of, yes?'
'Erm, yes.' Mel took a short moment to gather herself, forcing back her discomfort as far as she possibly could. Which still left her itching, but it was enough. 'Ah, you know about the thing with Yaxley, right.'
Snape's lips twitched, just barely, faint hints of repressed amusement. 'I may have heard something about it, yes.'
Right. Though she'd long been in the habit of ignoring such things, it hadn't escaped her notice that Melantha Black was starting to get nearly as many fascinated looks and whispers directed at her as Harry Potter had. Arianna Yaxley was infamous, one of the most wanted criminals in magical Britain, so taking her out virtually by herself was naturally going to get her noticed. Slightly disappointing, but people had already been paying her more attention than she'd been entirely happy with due to the whole House Black thing, and, well, she was used to it. 'I defeated her with wandless magic.'
Eyes turning so tightly focused his gaze was almost painful, Snape stared down at her, silent for long, agonisingly slow minutes. 'How?'
'Ah, well, I was bound by some runic spell she'd cast, couldn't even move. No idea where my wand was. And she was about to cast the cruciātus on Susan, and I just...' She trailed off, not entirely sure how to explain it. She'd just been so angry, her magic tight and hot and furious about her, and she... 'Well, I set her wand on fire. Her hand up to her elbow too, actually.'
'Which spell?'
'Calōre vindicāns.'
'Yes, you do like that spell, don't you.'
No real point in saying anything to that. He wasn't wrong.
Snape was silent for another moment, still intensely staring. She shifted under his gaze a bit, doing her best to meet his eyes, waiting for it to end as patiently as she could (which wasn't very). 'Was it intentional? I mean, did you consciously use that particular spell?'
She had to think about that for a moment. It had happened so fast, the whole series of events chaotic as all hell, it was hard to remember for sure. 'I believe I did, yes. I didn't really think about it. It was just the first spell that came to mind. But yes, I do think I did it on purpose. I didn't say the incantation, but I didn't have time, and I didn't have my wand either. I just thought of the fire, and took all my magic I could, and I was so angry, and I just sort of...pushed it at her. I guess?'
'Yes.' Snape nodded to himself for a moment, eyes unfocused, clearly thinking to himself. 'Well, it seems you have performed legitimate wandless magic on at least one occasion. It is likely that "push" you mentioned was how you perceived focusing your will upon reality without some catalyst to guide the process. It is not an entirely inappropriate way to put it. You may wish to attempt replicating the phenomenon if you have the time, though I would advise doing it only with the simplest of charms for the time being — ineptly-focused wandless magic can sometimes have disastrous consequences. All things considered, you are exceedingly fortunate you only set Yaxley on fire, and not the both of them. Or even yourself, for that matter.'
Mel nodded. From some of what she'd read in her mother's journals, she'd gotten the very clear impression wandless magic could be extremely temperamental and unpredictable. She wouldn't have even attempted it if she'd had any other choice.
'Which brings us to the matter of the day.' Snape stood, starting walking toward where she was sitting on the floor. She suppressed the urge to fidget, to jump to her feet — him standing over her like this was making her exceedingly uncomfortable. Once he was within a couple steps of the circle of runes on the floor, Snape reached into his pocket, tossed something in her direction, the thing sending sparks flying as it crossed the wardline.
Without even thinking, her hand moving into place without her input, she caught it. Tingles sprung across her skin at the contact, the tiny rivulets of energy making it all the way up her arm and halfway across her chest. It was a little disc of metal, runes carved into the surface in straight, sharp lines, little gemstones set into the corners, each subtly sparkling with inner light. Which made it a bit harder to read than usual, but Mel managed it after a few seconds. She didn't recognise the specific enchantment, but she recognised enough parts to put it together. This thing was gathering ambient magical energy into itself, and then storing it there — probably why the metal and the gemstones, in fact, substances that retained magic far more readily than stone or wood or ceramic, and why it was making her tingle so much. 'What's this for?'
'The first few steps in developing any skill in runic casting will always be a precarious process. The method you found in Lily's journals is how the two of us learned it, yes, but it is far from the safest. As you might have noticed.' Mel held in a flinch, but only barely. 'I will be guiding you through an introduction I've adapted from the course in the subject at Beauxbatons — I twice had the opportunity to discuss such things with the current instructor there. I did not learn it this way myself, of course, but it is no different in principle.'
'So we're starting with runic casting, then?'
Snape nodded, giving her a slightly exasperated look. 'Yes, obviously. Alongside other studies, of course, runic casting will be first. The skill is easy to pick up, doubly so given how very useful it can be, which, given the study you have already put into runic magic in general, you should be able to exploit to the full extent of your imagination in short order.'
Completely unable to keep a doubtful expression from her face, Mel turned to frown up at Snape. 'I can master it that quickly?'
'Master it?' He actually almost looked amused. 'No, of course not. Runic casting is not a branch of magic but a method of performing magic. Mastering the art is no simpler than mastering the use of a wand, and that you have not yet managed despite four full years of practise. However, it is only a single skill, and as such requires a minimal amount of study to become reasonably proficient. It will take years to master, perhaps decades, but you should be able to use it reliably and hopefully with some confidence before the end of the year.'
Huh. She hadn't realised it would be that easy, honestly. Especially since she assumed Snape was underestimating her abilities, as he virtually always did, which meant it shouldn't take hardly any time at all. Okay, then. 'And after runic casting?'
Still looking slightly annoyed, Snape answered anyway. 'After your abilities with runic casting have developed sufficiently, we will move on to refining your ability to cast freely. That is, wandless magic. In other magical communities around the world, it is known this order of doing things eases the process — myself, I could hardly manage wandless magic at all until shortly after I'd learned runic casting. Once you are proficient enough there to continue practising on your own, we will move into shadow magic, which is most easily cast wandlessly. However, unlike runic and free casting, shadow magic is not a method, but a branch of magic deep and complex enough people dedicate their whole lives to studying it, a division in our understanding of magic as fundamental as that between charms and transfiguration. That will take years for you to learn properly, so once we get to that point I will be intermixing those lesson with ones on blood magic, alchemy, or whatever else occurs to me.
'Now, unless there is anything else you must know at the moment?'
She shook her head. 'No, sir.' She realised she might be getting a little annoying sometimes, but she couldn't help it. As odd as it might sound, over the last few days Snape had abruptly become one of the very, very few people who, when she asked him something, actually answered. She meant, gave a reasonably full explanation, without prevarication or platitude. Sure, some subjects he skirted around entirely, and it was very clear he'd avoid anything even approaching personal matters like it were deadly venomous, but he gave satisfyingly clear, full answers. Sometimes almost too full, rambling on far longer than she thought should be entirely necessary. It was...odd. It was nice, of course, but she had absolutely no idea how to feel about the fact that Snape was quite nearly the first person ever to sufficiently accommodate her curiosity.
Not to mention, he actually talked about her mother. Not a lot, and with very little obvious sentiment. But...in a way, Mel thought that was... Oh, she wasn't sure what was the right word. Most people, whenever they'd said anything about her mother, it was obvious in retrospect they were just telling her what they'd thought she wanted to hear. Always talking about how kind she was, how beautiful, how intelligent, nice little things that really meant less than nothing, especially since she knew now the first one, at least, was mostly shite. Not to say Mel thought her mother had been a bad person, certainly not that, but she wouldn't say she'd been an unconsciously kind person either. No, Lily had been far more complicated, far less innocent, than anyone had previously led her to believe. That had been changing a little bit recently — Ellie very bluntly, Sirius when he wasn't thinking about it too much, Remus only when he'd been backed into a corner — but it was still mostly the case. And they always treated anything they said about her parents as though it were this big, important thing, telling her this, a sense of gravity about it all that she didn't entirely understand.
And then Snape just... She didn't know why. The way he'd, just, casually drop a reference to something she'd done or said, or been able to do, just random little tidbits, like it were the most natural thing in the world. It was...fascinating? Was that the right word? Just, nobody had ever talked about her like this before, or even really this side of her, and... She didn't know, Mel just thought it was...
She could admit, at least in the privacy of her own head, that part of the reason she kept asking him things was just from curiosity, sure, but also a subtle yet omnipresent hope she'd learn something else about the mother she couldn't even remember.
But she brushed the thought off — she had absolutely no idea how Snape would react to either of those reasons, she wasn't about to explain — hefting the little enchanted disc in her hand. 'So, how does this thing work?'
June, 1978
'Where the hell are we going, Sirius?'
Sirius just shrugged, not even turning to look at her. Lily was starting to think there was something very seriously wrong. When he'd dragged her away from her books — she'd claimed to be studying for her Arithmancy NEWT, because she probably shouldn't admit to designing dark curses in her spare time, even to Sirius — she'd assumed he was just bringing her someplace sufficiently private, motivation obvious. For her sake more than his, as she wouldn't be surprised if he would be perfectly comfortable with the idea of screwing her on the table in the middle of the common room. But it was very clear by now that wasn't what he was looking for.
Though she had no bloody idea what he was looking for. He was obviously nervous, almost twitching with it, avoiding looking at her whenever possible. Almost to the point of being scared, in some way that focused on her. Which was odd. Lily would admit she could be a bit...much. Considering she didn't hide who she was with Sirius nearly as much as she did normally, he would know that better than most. But it almost seemed like he was scared of her, which raised the question: why? He had to know she wouldn't hurt him unless he gave her a very good reason to. So why was he...?
She didn't know. This was weird. She was starting to get a bit nervous herself.
Eventually, after what felt like much too long, Sirius was leading her into an unused classroom on the fifth floor. Lily was somewhat surprised to see secrecy charms spread across the door. Hmm. Inside, all the desks were pushed to the desk. All but one, transfigured somewhat into a wider table, a couple chairs sitting around it. In one of the chairs, James, looking even more nervous than Sirius.
As the door closed behind her, the privacy charms snapping closed with the slightest of flashes, Lily turned a glare on Sirius. 'Okay, are you going to tell me what this is about now?'
Sirius just shrugged, seemingly incapable of speech. The answer came from James, but even then it wasn't much of one. There was a slight tapping noise, a slight rustling, and Lily turned to see James was indicating a sheet of parchment on the table. His voice shaking slightly with obvious tension, he said, 'Read it.' With a last suspicious glance at Sirius, Lily walked toward the table, snatched up the parchment. It only took her a couple seconds to figure out what it was.
A betrothal contract.
Between herself and James bloody Potter.
She was entirely helpless to stop it. Before she could even think to try to control it, so fast she barely noticed it happening, her throat and chest were tight with overwhelming fury, unnatural heat racing across her body, familiar tingles itching at her skin as her magic woke. She couldn't even slow it down, the unthinking rage was spilling into the power always waiting at the back of her mind, turning it bright and tempestuous, she couldn't hold it back, she could feel it crackling at the air, like lightning flashing between clouds, claws digging into flesh, fire snapping and biting. Her breath was hot and hard in her throat, almost choking her as she tried to keep some modicum of control over herself.
She might have managed it, if the boys didn't do something very stupid.
Sirius, at least, knew well enough to take a step back, hands raised somewhat, but Potter must have no fucking clue what was going on. He'd sprung to his feet, darting closer to her. Too close, obviously moving to... She didn't know. Touch her somehow.
Even the thought of him touching her, no matter how minimal and innocent it would be, was more than she could handle right now. The incandescent cloud of fury about her clenched, her eyes narrowing on the approaching figure. Without even consciously thinking about it she'd sent him rocketing backward, slamming into the table before rolling over it, crashing to the ground. The force of the impact had even knocked the table over, actually.
Sirius had nearly moved to help his idiot friend, jerking in place slightly, but in the end didn't move, eyes focused on her with visible wariness. 'Lily, calm down. We can—'
Calm down? Calm down? Sirius had bought her here to just hand her off to her old creepy stalker and he wanted her to calm down?
Perhaps Sirius didn't know what he was doing better than Potter. He should have known saying that would just make her more angry.
Magic in the air about her turning so thick she could see it, ethereal flickerings of red shadows and glowing blacks, Lily just glared at him, a single flick of her fingers bringing him stumbling toward her. Another twitch brought him down to his knees — by the grunt and the clenching of his face, rather painfully. Leaning over him, she took a moment to breathe, forcing her voice as level, as comprehensible as possible. And hopefully not in Parseltongue. 'Explain yourself. Quickly, or I'm leaving.'
'Lily, it's nothing, we just—'
She glanced quick in Potter's direction, a sharp stabbing gesture of her arm sending a yellowish hex sailing straight at his chest. Potter's eyes went wide, hands jumping to his throat, fingers scrambling to grasp something that wasn't there. After a couple seconds, he fell to his knees, face rapidly turning red as he tried to breathe, but couldn't.
Even if she forgot to take the thing off, it wouldn't kill him. The charm would dispel itself as soon as he passed out. But, she guessed, Potter probably didn't know that.
And, by the increasingly panicked set of Sirius's face, he didn't either. 'Lily, please, let us talk this out, we just—'
'Sounds like you're about to make excuses to me.'
'I just need you to be safe!'
Lily blinked, the magic roaring about her ears weakened slightly by confusion. What? What the hell was he talking about? He certainly sounded sincere — it was hard to tell for sure, with how obviously terrified he was, but it seemed like it. But what could he...
Without even really thinking about it, Lily tipped Sirius's head up so their eyes could meet, and pushed her way into his mind.
She wasn't nearly as skilled with mind magic as Sev was, of course. Which was only to be expected, since he was a legilimens and she wasn't. But she had learned enough from him to manage a little, and the force of her lingering anger was more than enough to blast through whatever occlumency Sirius might be using, she didn't even notice it. It obviously wasn't an entirely painless process, his jaw clenching and eyes narrowing, but he didn't try to look way, even summoned the relevant memories for her convenience.
Not that she was entirely sure how to feel about them. Sirius had been worrying about this for months, apparently. All of Lily's legal rights in the magical world were derived from her status as a Hogwarts student. By the end of August, that would be dissolved. Since she didn't have any relevant connections to any House to fall back on, she would become, legally speaking, helpless. Since a lot of people really didn't like her, that was not exactly a good idea. It would be far too easy for someone to accuse her of some crime, perhaps even arrange to have her convicted in absentia, and there would be absolutely nothing she could do about it.
Sirius had actually gone to Potter, asked if he wouldn't be willing to marry her, since he couldn't do it himself due to his own complicated legal situation. He'd even made it explicitly clear that it was only for legal purposes, that he hadn't yet talked about this with Lily, that she'd probably be very annoyed about it, and chances were it would remain a charade, for appearance's sake until they could arrange something else. With surprising reluctance, Potter had agreed — not like he had anyone he was planning on courting in the near future himself, it didn't cost him anything. If it would protect Lily, and if it was what Sirius needed of him, he was perfectly fine with it. Even if it meant having to deal with an exceedingly unhappy sorceress on a regular basis.
Sirius had even warned him it was very possible Lily would curse the both of them before they could make their intentions clear. Potter had just laughed the warning off, clearly not believing him. Yeah, apparently Potter still had no fucking clue what she was really like.
Though, she guessed he likely had a better idea now.
Here in his head, it was clear even Sirius didn't like this idea. In fact, he hated it. He hated that he couldn't protect Lily himself, that he couldn't do something even so simple as marry her, just because the family he'd been unfortunate enough to be born into was fucking terrible. He hated that this was the only thing he could come up with, the only way he could be certain Lily would be covered. He hated it had to be James, of all people, who had been annoying about Lily for so long, someone he knew Lily really didn't like. But he couldn't think of anything else. He'd been agonising over it, for months, and it was all he could come up with.
Of course, the obvious solution of making amends with his family seemingly hadn't even occurred to him. But she wouldn't have expected it to — Blacks can be stubborn that way.
Somewhat reluctantly, Lily released the charms holding Sirius in place on his knees. A glance in Potter's direction and she'd dispelled the hex strangling him as well. 'Give me a moment.' To make sure she wouldn't be interrupted, she cast a silencing charm on them powerful enough she doubted they'd be able to break it, even using her wand to be safe. Then she took a few steps away, putting her back to them. And started attempting to regain some semblance of control over herself.
Sometimes, she almost thought less powerful mages actually had it easy. They didn't have to worry about shite like this. Power augmenting their emotions, circling back in a positive feedback loop. Intense rage inflaming her magic, her magic energising her body and mind, stoking her rage higher, her power bursting further out of her control in response. Further and further and further, until she was a danger to everyone around her, took all the restraint she had not to indiscriminately incinerate her surroundings. This wasn't something that happened to normal people. And it was very annoying sometimes.
Dumbledore wasn't entirely wrong when he said anger was dangerous, and hatred was toxic. It just seemingly hadn't occurred to him it only mattered for people like them, and only if they couldn't learn to control it.
Which she would have never been able to manage if Sev hadn't been helping her with mind magic. It was difficult to do, but not impossible. It was an internal separation, throwing a wall down in her own mind, isolating the part her emotions lived from the wellspring of magic deep in her soul. It was difficult, yes. It took long minutes for the storm of magic about her to settle, most of its fuel blocked away. But not impossible.
Of course, then she was still left with the anger itself. But without her magic intensifying her own feelings, without the threat of unintentional arson or murder at her own hands, that was far more manageable.
With a last slow, calming breath, Lily turned back to the other two. They were watching her, still and silent. Sirius looked mostly relieved, but Potter seemed more than a little terrified, rubbing at his throat. Despite herself, she felt a smirk pulling at her lips. Yes, somehow Potter had managed to make it this long with his delusions about her intact. She had to wonder what he thought about the glimpse he'd just gotten.
She could just slip into his mind and find out, she guessed, but that seemed excessive.
'Sorry about that. I think I can talk about this without killing you now.'
Potter looked a little sick, but Sirius just smirked. 'I do appreciate that, love. Have lots of living left I'd like to get to.'
Lily rolled her eyes.
A few short moments later, they were all seated at the little table, Lily reading through the contract they'd written up. Every line just made her more and more confused. Perhaps "confused" wasn't quite the right word, but it wasn't what she would have expected in any case. She'd read up a bit on these sort of things out of curiosity, even read through a few examples, and this one... Well, it was exceedingly generous, was probably the way to put it. James was technically Lord Potter now, with his parents recently deceased. Any marriage between them would make her Lady Potter, though her rights as such would depend on particulars in family law, and always inferior to his, since she wasn't born into the family.
But this phrase here, saying she would be granted the Ladyship quasi sit hērēditāta suō iūre... She wasn't an expert in magical law, but just from the Latin it was clear she would have full rights to the title, as though she had been born into the House and inherited it normally. That was not, by any means, something that was normally in these sort of contracts. In fact, she'd never even heard of such a thing. James was, essentially, handing over full control over House Potter to her. He would still have equal powers, yes, but exactly equal, no more or less.
James was also waiving any legal right to act on her behalf in any situation, which was exceedingly strange — it was normal that married couples would be able to do that with each other, it was a part of the entire concept of marriage. Even muggle marriage worked that way.
A portion of the Potter wealth would be set aside for her to take with her should they ever divorce. That wasn't unusual at all, especially in Noble Houses, though it was somewhat strange in her specific case, since most people marrying into Noble Houses were nobility themselves, and would be bringing with them...well, it wasn't technically a formalised dowry or dower, but that was the basic idea, which obviously didn't apply to her.
Even more strangely... Well, it wasn't at all unusual for these things to specify what should be done where the couple's children are concerned. Between Noble Houses, this sort of thing can get exceedingly complicated, all Houses tending to put down on paper which family has what rights to the children, just to prevent disagreements later. This part was weirdly... Okay, for one, any children of hers would be considered a member of House Potter, the firstborn the heir to the title irrespective of their gender. Whether or not these theoretical children were Potter's was irrelevant — in fact, from the way it was written, she was pretty sure James was assuming Sirius would actually be the father. Also interestingly, should they decide to divorce after she'd had children, she would be free to take any children with her when she left, but they would still retain all rights and privileges of their position in the House, including the Lordship should it come to it. They could voluntarily sacrifice those rights, yes, and James could expel them if he had sufficient justification to — Lily recalled House Potter only allowed expelling members, the heir especially, under very specific circumstances — but just leaving with her didn't strip them automatically.
This... This was an extremely generous offer, when she got down to it. So generous, in fact, it was extremely unlikely she would ever get a better one. Even an adoption into a friendly House would grant her fewer freedoms and saddle her with more responsibilities than this.
Lily set the parchment down, glanced between the two men. It was startling how alike they looked in that moment. Of course, they had always looked alike — they were, what, first cousins once removed? And from inbred Noble Houses at that. But their expressions, their posture, usually made more than enough of a contrast to tell them apart easily, even without any physical differences. Now they looked eerily alike, sitting tense in their chairs, giving her almost identical warily expectant looks.
She took a long breath, rubbing at her forehead with one hand. This entire situation was completely ridiculous.
'You're really okay with this?' she said, her quite likely suspicious eyes on James. 'I mean, this isn't exactly a normal contract.'
James shrugged. 'Sure. I did help Sirius write it, you know. I wouldn't have agreed to anything if I weren't willing.'
'Why?'
He gave a somewhat awkward glance to Sirius, another helpless shrug. 'Because I can, I guess. Whatever you may believe about me, when it comes down to it, this isn't even about you. Not for me, anyway. That it is you specifically is a bonus, I'll admit, but I'd do it anyway.'
She frowned, not entirely sure if she should believe that. James had been disturbingly obsessive about her since practically the first time they'd met, after all. 'For Sirius, you mean.'
He nodded. 'There isn't much I wouldn't do for Sirius. I mean, he's the closest thing I've ever had to a brother.'
Mumbling a little, Sirius said, 'That doesn't mean much to a lot of people, you know.'
'Yeah, well, fuck them,' James said, smirking a little. Turning slightly more serious again, 'He would be miserable if something happened to you, and I can help, so I will. And it's not like I get nothing out of it.'
Lily raised an eyebrow, if only to stop herself from glaring at him. 'Oh? And just what do you think you're getting?'
Ignoring the implication and the threat in her voice, James said, entirely flat, 'Power.'
Er... 'What?'
He smiled at her, eyes dancing with amusement. 'Come now, Evans. I'm sure you know magical ability is most often inherited from the mother. Potters are generally more magically gifted than average, yes, but any children of yours are assuredly going to be almost as absurdly powerful as you are. Just one of them could be a boon, but if you had three? four?' He shrugged again. 'My House is almost dead. I'm the only one left. Well, and my sister too, I suppose, but I sincerely doubt she'll ever be having children. A generation of Potters with your magical abilities... Well, imagine how much they could do to lift my House from the brink of death. No, I'm not getting nothing out of it. That's enough for me.'
'You're aware I'm a dark witch, right? I don't think you would like some of the magics that come easy to me. I'm even a Parselmouth and everything.' James started — apparently he hadn't known that one. 'Any children I have will probably be the same.'
'Erm...' James glanced at Sirius quick, but then shrugged. 'I guess that's fine. As long as they're not doing anything too awful with it, I don't see why I should care, really.' He sounded slightly leery of the idea, but not so far as revulsion.
'Does killing people count as too awful? Because, you know, I have done that.'
He blinked at her. 'Death Eaters?'
'Well, yeah, but—'
He shrugged. 'That's fine, then. I'm sure whoever it was deserved whatever you gave them.'
For long moments, Lily could only stare at him. That whole thing, and that stuff about Sirius, and... It was true James had abruptly dropped the whole stalker act when she and Sirius had started being a thing, in general started being far less annoying than he'd been before, but...
When the bloody fuck did James Potter of all people become an adult? Because apparently she'd missed it.
Lily stared at him for a second longer, seeing nothing but sincerity and a slight hint of bashful awkwardness, before turning again to Sirius. 'And you're okay with this?'
'I'd be lying if I said I was happy about it. But, well, you saw that.'
She nodded — no point pretending she hadn't just invaded his mind a couple minutes ago.
'But...' He let out a long sigh, rubbing at the side of his face. 'If there's someone we need to go to help us, I'd rather it be James than anyone else. I trust him not to, you know, do anything. I know he'll keep his word. Maybe not universally, granted, but for me?'
'And you're comfortable with whatever children we may or may not be having over the coming years being legally his? Not that I'm planning on that happening any time soon, but...'
Sirius didn't entirely stop himself from flinching, but he gave a reluctant nod anyway. 'No, not entirely comfortable, but fine. They'll know the truth anyway, and it's not like I won't be around. I won't be happy about it, but that'll have to be enough for me, I guess.'
At least he was being honest about it. 'And if I started sleeping with him too? Not that I presently intend to, mind you,' she said, shooting a narrow glare over at James. Turning back to Sirius, 'But you have to realise, if we go through with this it's not impossible that could start happening one day. It's very likely, in fact.' Honestly, that thought didn't bother her as much as it probably should. It was a bit weird, sure, but he wasn't nearly as annoying these days as he used to be and, well, it wasn't like he was unattractive, physically speaking. As long as he didn't start expecting anything else from her, she could see herself doing it.
And, hell, what would be the point in having a husband and a boyfriend if she weren't shagging both of them? Seemed like a waste, really.
Oddly enough, Sirius didn't seem at all uncomfortable with the idea. At least there was no immediate negative reaction like last time. Instead he just smirked at her, wide enough she caught a glint of teeth. 'I suppose that depends. Do I get to watch? Or even, say, participate, maybe?'
Despite herself, she almost laughed. But instead she buried the impulse, nailed Sirius in the shoulder with a quick stinging charm. It wouldn't do to reinforce that sort of behaviour, after all.
Of course, knowing Sirius, she probably should have skipped the stinging charm if she was really trying to discourage him. But it was possible she was just making excuses to herself. It wasn't her fault the way he yelped and cursed at her was so amusing, the way he rubbed at his shoulder and pouted so adorable. It took far more effort than it really should to keep a teasing smile off her face.
Sometimes, she thought this would all be so much easier if she hadn't fallen in love with him. Arsehole.
Lily hesitated. But, really, she didn't have to for very long. She doubted she'd stumble across any better options. As long as James didn't make too much of a nuisance of himself, this was practically ideal. No use sitting here and moaning about it, she should just sign the bloody thing.
Letting out a long-suffering sigh, she picked up the waiting quill, and just signed the bloody thing. She set the quill back down on the table, turned to James. 'I suppose I have to pretend to like you now.'
James had the nerve to look amused. 'Well, I suppose I'll do my best to make it easy for you. I'm sure Sirius has tips.'
'Oh, yeah, I have a list, stupid shite to avoid if you don't want to be hexed. Remind me back at the dorm and I'll give you a copy.'
Lily rolled her eyes.
November, 1995
Mel stared at the page, thick with her mother's now-familiar handwriting, trying to make sense of what she had just read.
She didn't understand. She meant, no, the words were perfectly comprehensible, sure. And she could understand her mother's reasoning just fine — it was something she'd personally have trouble going through with, but it wasn't so foreign she couldn't even understand it, it made a certain kind of sense. But... She'd always thought...
She'd learned rather recently that Mum had never broken up with Sirius, yes. That they'd always been a thing, even after she'd married Dad. Hermione had even tracked down a couple of the less-than-flattering Prophet articles about it for her. Apparently there was a different newspaper...The Northern Herald? Something Herald, anyway. But Susan had gotten her aunt to send copies of a couple mentions she'd saved that were far less awful about it. She'd known it was a thing that had happened, that they'd been, er, a triad? She thought that was the word Hermione had used.
But she hadn't thought...
This just felt, off, from how she'd thought it would be. She didn't know what she was thinking.
She was getting a very strange suspicion. She wasn't sure she liked it.
Mel jumped out of her bed, through the curtains, noticing at a glance and with no small relief she was alone. She went for the bookcase next to her bed — she hadn't had one before, but with how many books she'd been going through recently it'd become necessary. Her finger tapping the wooden surface, she scanned along the shelf she'd put her mother's journals in, looking for the right box. Sixth Year (II), Seventh Year (I), Seventh Year (II), Seventh Year (III), August 78 – February 79, March 79 – July 79, August 79 – December—
With her fingers spread to prevent the neighbouring boxes from being dragged out with it, Mel yanked out the one dated for the latter end of 1979. She set the box on the floor, slipped out her wand, shot off a quick dispel. The shrinking charm dissipated, the book-shaped wooden box expanding to its true size — a foot deep, two wide and three long. Mel slid the top off, started searching through the various muggle journals packed inside. There had to be dozens of them, and these only covered about five months! She couldn't imagine how Mum could possibly have found this much to write about it, especially since most of them were academic projects, research and theories and experiments, and doubly so because by this point she'd also been fighting in a bloody war.
Sirius had mentioned more than once that Hermione sort of reminded him of Lily sometimes. It hadn't made sense at first, but with what she knew now Mel could definitely see it.
Right, here it was: her personal diary for November and December. Mel turned to sit on the edge of her bed, riffling through the pages, trying to ignore the continuing twinge of discomfort she got reading these things sometimes. Her fingers seemed to be shaking a bit too, that was annoying. She quickly flipped forward to a couple weeks into December, then moved more slowly, skimming the entries, looking for anything relevant. On the entry for December Seventeenth, she finally found what she was looking for.
It took reading the same couple paragraphs three times before it sank in. The words just didn't stick, slipping through her head and sliding away again. And the shaking in her hands was only getting worse. One sentence, though, kept repeating itself in her head, over and over, until the words hardly even seemed real.
I suppose I should figure out how the hell I'll be going about telling Sirius he's the father of his best friend's child.
...how the hell I'll be going about telling Sirius he's the father of his best friend's...
...telling Sirius he's the father...
...
What...
But...
But that didn't make any sense! If Sirius were her father, wouldn't someone have bloody told her at some point? That seems like the sort of thing that should come up! Especially since people had always told her it was James! That, just...
And suddenly she was remembering something Remus had told her, weeks ago now: 'James is almost certainly your father. Not that it would make any difference, I suspect...They would have claimed it was James for legal reasons, even if it was really Sirius.'
Okay. Okay. She guess... She guessed that sort of made sense. Lily had been Lady Potter, and Noble Houses could be weird about this kind of shite, so they would have claimed any kids she had would have been James's, even if they weren't. For inheritance reasons. They wouldn't have told anyone, just in case — not to mention Mel had gotten the very clear impression Remus simply hadn't wanted to know those kinds of details about his friends' relationship. Right. Okay. She understood that. Fine.
But...it still didn't make any sense! People would have noticed if she had been Sirius's! How many fucking times had she heard people tell her she looked almost exactly like James had at her age? Er, before the girl thing, anyway. They...they...
Frowning to herself, Mel stood again. She dropped Lily's journal back into the box of them, went to her bookshelf again. She didn't have to look to find the photo album originally given to her by Hagrid, added to by Hermione over the years. It didn't take her long to find a picture that happened to have both James and Sirius in it — one of the wedding photos, she'd looked at this blasted thing a million times. Her eyes flicked back and forth, James to Sirius to James again, looking more carefully than she thought she ever had, so closely her nose was almost touching the surface.
They...
They looked practically identical.
How had she never noticed that before? Their eyes were obviously different colours, James's a striking hazel and Sirius's that same deep grey most everyone in House Black seemed to have. (Plus Tracey, for some reason.) Their hair was the same shining, almost glimmering black as hers, though James's was an untameable mess cropped rather short, Sirius's a wavy, curly river framing his face and falling over his shoulders. It was very possible Sirius's only seemed less insane by comparison because it was longer, the weight holding it more in place — hers had been much like James's back when she'd been a boy, but now it was far longer and more like Sirius's, might be significant. The curve of their brows over their eyes, the set of their nose, their lips... Their cheekbones were noticeably different, each carrying faint scars and blemishes the other didn't... Chop Sirius's hair down to the length of James's, take off James's glasses, have them close their eyes, and it'd be difficult to tell them apart. They could easily be brothers.
But, then, they were rather closely related, weren't they? Bringing up the Black family tree in her head, something she could only do because Andi had forced her to memorise a chunk of it, and she quickly confirmed what Lily had said in that journal entry. James's mother was Sirius's grandfather's sister — they were first cousins once removed. Of course, James's grandfather was also Sirius's great-grandfather's brother, so they were also second cousins once removed, because Noble Houses and incest. Mel was pretty sure they were second or third cousins or something through the MacMillans too, but she didn't know how off the top of her head.
Purebloods sometimes, honestly.
Mel noticed she was getting a bit lightheaded. When had that happened? Apparently she hadn't been breathing properly. She paused a moment, her elbows perched on her knees over the photo album, hands covering her face, and just took long, deep breaths. She kept going, probably for minutes, until the odd tension in her chest had lessened some, the fuzziness in her head eased a bit. Okay.
Returning to the book, she slipped the photo out of the page. At least, she tried to — her fingers were practically useless, almost numb, she couldn't deal with the tiny, flimsy things, it was impossible. After long seconds struggling, cursing under her breath, she grabbed for her wand again, and just summoned the thing out. Once she had it, she flipped closer to the back of the book, the pages Hermione had added.
It felt somewhat odd, looking at pictures of herself back when she'd been a boy, but she did her best to ignore the almost queasy feeling in her stomach, the uncomfortable itches along her spine. She found a picture with a comparatively near shot of her face, one she wasn't moving too much — Hermione, Ron, Ginny, and herself, packed into a couch in the common room, looked like third year, judging by their ages. And by "their ages" she mostly meant Hermione and Ginny's figures, not that she'd ever make that point out loud. Wow, past her really did look uncomfortable squeezed in there, she was amused despite herself. Anyway, right. She brought the wedding photo up right under it, meticulously comparing her face to James's, Lily's, and Sirius's. She didn't have a, er, more recent photo to compare with, but it didn't matter — it wasn't like her parents had changed in becoming Melantha, it shouldn't make a difference.
She noticed almost right away everyone was full of shite: she hadn't looked exactly like James save the eyes. (Nor Sirius, for that matter.) The similarity was very obvious, yes, helped along by the hair and the glasses, but nowhere near identical. The nose was about right. Her lips, chin, that area, didn't look quite like anyone, but she thought it was most like Lily. Not just the colour and shape of her eyes, which did look almost completely identical to Lily's, but her eyebrows, that part up there, seemed to lean more toward Lily than...whichever was her father, anyway. The rest looked more like them, though, enough they did look very similar, she'd give virtually everyone she'd ever met that. But not identical.
So, not only had everyone constantly talked to her like she were a little clone of James Potter, which was always extremely annoying, but it wasn't even true. Jesus, she really hated mages sometimes.
Mel focused on the few features she'd noted James and Sirius didn't share. Their noses were slightly different, but extremely similar, and Mel's didn't match either of theirs exactly in any case. Nor Lily's, even, so skipping that. Lips, mouth, around there, hard to tell. She'd already noticed she looked a bit more like Lily there anyway, so it was very lik—
She froze, an odd thrill of lightning shooting up her nerves. She leaned closer, squinting at herself. There was this single little fold, right there, in the middle of her top lip. Not extremely prominent, but it was there. A short examination of Lily's, she didn't have it. James didn't either.
Sirius did.
She followed the curve of her cheekbones, the line of her jaw, the twisted little shapes in her ears. Then she checked the others.
Sirius didn't look exactly the same, a bit narrower, a bit sharper. But similar. Very similar.
The remainder, she thought, was mostly Lily. There was similarity there too, most pronounced where she and Sirius differed, but less noticeable.
And James was completely off. Not even close.
She...
But...
The book slipped through numb fingers, covers pressing closed as it fell between her legs. Mel let herself fall onto her back, squeezing her eyes shut against the hot pressure crawling up her chest and throat. Her arms came around her stomach, clenching around the roiling nausea, doing her best to ignore it all, trying to stay calm.
How had she never noticed? Why had nobody told her?
She would figure someone, at some point, should have mentioned Sirius was her bloody father.
The heat clenched at her throat again, flinching at the idea. No, no, that wasn't right, she had to be missing something. She did look more like Sirius than James, sure — and wasn't it frustrating nobody had ever noticed that before, all things considered — but that could just be coincidence. She'd hardly consider herself an expert in genetics, and they were both purebloods! Extremely similar-looking purebloods at that! Everyone knew the self-important fuckers were so hopelessly interbred, she had no idea if that superficial an examination was reliable anyway.
And her patrōnus! Back when she'd been Harry, hers had been the same as James's. Dumbledore had explicitly told her that was meaningful, that couldn't just be a coincidence, that—
'A different memory, slight nuances in the shade of the emotion, give rise to a noticeably different expression.' Mel winced at Snape's voice suddenly ringing in her head, but was entirely helpless to consider the thought. Maybe... Maybe what everyone said about a patrōnus being specific to an individual was complete shite. Since people could have more than one, that seemed like a logical conclusion. If the form of the patrōnus were dictated not by the person casting it, but by the memory they used to motivate it... Perhaps, for the sake of argument, the memory she had used before just so happened to be very similar, in essence, to the one James normally had. It could just be a coincidence. In fact, that argument was sounding more convincing by the second.
Which meant Dumbledore had flat-out lied when he'd said the shared expression of the charm between James and herself was meaningful, but she'd grown well-used to the idea by now that people had been telling her what they thought she wanted to hear. It was very possible Dumbledore had just told her something to make her feel better, regardless of whether it was perfectly accurate or not.
Of course, it was also possible Dumbledore simply didn't understand the patrōnus as well as Snape did and Lily had, but she was willing to assume he did. Her mother and Snape were mostly interested in dark magic, after all, and the patrōnus was pretty much the opposite. It was more Dumbledore's area of expertise — if they knew, he certainly did.
So, there was one data point to toss out.
But, that couldn't...it couldn't...
And she was remembering, back when she'd been leaving on the Express at the start of this term. Sirius had been looking uncommonly morose, he'd said, 'I can't remember a lot of what happened before I was sent there. I assume the happy parts — that's what they take first.'
He didn't remember. Sirius hadn't told her, because he didn't remember.
But, that bit when she'd gone with Dora and Sirius to the Ministry... Sirius had forgotten who they were, what year it was... He couldn't remember all the time, but it slipped through, here and there...
Sirius on the edge of tears, arms about her tight and shaking, 'If I hadn't run off after the rat like a bloody idiot— Myrðin, it's all my fault. I hate that you had to go through that, kitten, I'm so, so...'
'Do whatever you want with the room. It's yours, kitten, you don't have to ask.'
That look, that look Sirius had given her, the first time he'd seen her after her little transformation... She knew now the resemblance would be far more obvious, with the glasses gone and her hair longer, he must have, just for a second...
In fourth year, fourth fucking year, it'd been so monumentally stupid! He had half the fucking Aurors in the country after him — Aurors! Mel knew now that was no small thing. He'd been safe, somewhere out of the country, and he'd come back, as soon as he heard about the Tournament, even slipping into Hogwarts with half the bloody Ministry there! Was he fucking insane?!
And third year...third year...
He'd been there. He'd been there, in Little Whinging, the day she'd inflated Marge like a fucking blimp. Why? He had to know where the Weasleys lived, they were in the Order together, had to know Pettigrew would be there. Why go to...
'Then I saw Peter in that picture... I realised he was at Hogwarts with Harry, perfectly positioned to act, ready to strike the moment he could be sure he had allies... I had to do something... It was as if someone had lit a fire in my head...it wasn't a happy feeling, it was an obsession...'
Mel furiously scrubbed at her face, annoyed with herself, but she couldn't stop it. Stupid fucking eyes, stupid fucking throat, she did still have to breathe...
'Black's been talking in his sleep for a while now. Always the same words: "He's at Hogwarts, he's at Hogwarts..."'
'Believe me,' his voice thick and shaking, cracking so hard Mel could barely understand it. 'Believe me, I would have died before I betrayed them.' Eyes empty and face haunted, so broken, so defeated...
Turning around only minutes later, speaking to Pettigrew, 'You sold Lily and James to Voldemort—'
Lily and James. Lily and James, not James and Lily...
So loud Mel's ears had been ringing, '...for a year before Lily and James died!'
Lily and James. Lily and James, not James and Lily.
He'd said it both ways, that night, he said it both ways still today. But when he wasn't in full control of himself, when he was emotional, moving on instinct...
Then, later that night, after she and Hermione had broken him out... Gracefully perched on Buckbeak's back, eyes steady on Mel's, exhausted and sorrowful, glittering with unshed tears. He'd stalled, stalled longer than was entirely safe, just staring at her...
'You are...' He'd broken off, swallowing thickly, eyes flicking away from hers for just a second. '...truly your father's son, Harry...'
For just a moment, there...
Mel let out a long sigh, her own breath thick and tense, rubbing at her face. She was struggling to keep herself in one piece, mostly succeeding, but her throat fucking hurt, her face more wet than she was entirely pleased with. She was fine. She was fine. She was fifteen fucking years old, she wasn't going to sit here crying like a fucking baby, she refused...
He'd known. He might not remember most of the time but, for just a moment there, he'd known.
He hadn't meant James.
She had absolutely no idea how to process this information. She just... She didn't even know what was going on anymore.
Sure, she'd been learning she'd been dead wrong about a lot of things she'd thought she'd known, but learning her father was someone completely different than who she'd been told for her entire life was a pretty fucking big one. She didn't know what to do with that.
At some point, her life had become entirely absurd, and she hadn't even noticed.
She jumped as the door was abruptly thrown open, slamming against the wall with a shuddering crash. 'Hey, Mel, you wanna— Oh, is this a bad time?'
Mel sat up, avoiding Fay's eyes as she took a moment to wipe away all signs of her near-breakdown just there. 'I guess that depends on what you wanted.' But, really, knowing Fay it was probably—
'I'm putting together a pickup game, and I was just wondering if you wanted to join, is all.' Yes, quidditch, of course. Of the Gryffindor girls who weren't Hermione or Ginny, Fay was really the only one she'd known before this term, and only because she was almost invariably in any pickup game she joined. Not that she'd ever been given much choice.
Honestly, Fay'd always somewhat intimidated her — she was just, loud, and energetic, and unnervingly assertive, taller than most of the boys and even as a second-year had had distractingly visible muscles in her arms and legs. Well, other places too, Mel knew now that she'd seen her without a shirt on, but still. She was the best beater in Gryffindor after the twins, and a good enough keeper she was even on the team this year, with Wood gone. Actually, she'd been getting a lot of credit for Gryffindor winning their match against Slytherin last week, she and the chaser girls, with the surprisingly effective addition of Ginny, keeping a solid enough lead Malfoy had caught the snitch as soon as possible just to stop them from running up the score.
Mel probably wouldn't have played half as much quidditch if Fay hadn't constantly roped her into taking one of the chaser spots. (Pickup games didn't usually have seekers.) So she didn't really mind too much. Interestingly, now that Mel was a girl, Fay actually asked instead of just dragging her off. But that could be because Fay hadn't a bloody clue who she really was.
So Mel had a moment to consider if she really wanted to play quidditch right now. But she barely needed a few seconds — she'd rather not be stuck alone with her thoughts right now, all things considered. 'Yeah, sure. I'll be down in a minute.'
'Chaser?'
'Yep.'
And without another word, Fay was gone, the door slamming closed again behind her.
Mel just sat on her bed for a couple seconds, trying to put what had just happened behind her, not think about it. Now wasn't the time to think about it, she couldn't. She needed...time, yes, just to make it less immediate. She guessed. Maybe.
Hopefully.
She shoved herself to her feet, exchanged her skirt for trousers, yanked a jumper over her head. For some reason, she still got cold strangely easily, which seemed a bit absurd to her — she was far less unhealthily thin than she used to be, should be more insulation, not less. Hermione had rambled some long thing involving sexual dimorphism and steroid hormones and vasoconstriction, but Mel had only understood every other word. The jumper should be fine but, come to think of it, the trousers were probably too thin. It was November...
Eh, fuck it. She could always cast a warming charm later. A quick minute to lace up those boots she'd gotten multiple snarky comments about, and she was grabbing her Firebolt and thumping down the stairs.
Wait a second. She just wore these because, honestly, most girl shoes were weird and uncomfortable. But, apparently, the whole reason various people found her preference for these things funny was because it was some kind of House Black stereotype. Duelling boots, family with a history of producing women famously deadly with their wands, yeah, whole thing. Mel had always just brushed it off because, well, she wasn't a Black, not really. Just using the name for convenience.
But...it turned out she actually was a Black. She just hadn't known that at the time.
Holy hell, she wasn't even a Potter. Er, sort of. According to that journal entry of her mother's, James had been entirely aware any children of hers likely wouldn't be his, but he'd wanted them to carry his name anyway. For reasons Mel didn't quite understand, but magical British nobility, they're weird. So, she was legally a Potter, confirmed as the heir to the title when she'd been just three months old, she'd seen the papers, but...
Wait, wait, wait. She fully intended to dissolve the House of Potter, er, next month. But...she wasn't even technically...she...
Ugh, this was all so fucking weird. Stop thinking about it.
And she managed to put her mind off the subject entirely, for a while. Wandering through the halls of the castle, ignoring the few people who acknowledged her passing — she realised now that, if she'd wanted to avoid people noticing her, assuming the Black name had been a shite idea — her thoughts solid on the topic of runic casting. It was fascinating stuff, okay. She hadn't managed a single successful casting yet, true, but it'd only been a couple days. The idea was just cool. Snape had forbidden her from practising it without him, since it would be rather easy to severely hurt or even kill herself if she fucked up, but that didn't mean she couldn't come up with a few simple spells she'd like to teach herself eventually, useful things she should be able to manage with only a glyph or two...
Mel had herself suitably distracted until she was all the way outside, biting autumn wind pulling at her hair. When some of it blew into her face, Mel couldn't help a quick huff of annoyance — she still had it loose, she couldn't fly with it like that, it'd end up a hopelessly tangled mess. Sometimes this shite still completely slipped her mind. Mel set the point of her broom's handle against the half-frozen ground, holding it upright cradled in her knee. Wand in one hand, balancing on one foot, she soon had her hair in a braid all the way down. Which she wouldn't have been able to manage without a couple charms Parvati had taught her, some of those were just bloody useful.
Not that she'd be mentioning that to Hermione. She could imagine the knowing look she'd get well enough, too embarrassing.
Wand squirrelled away again, Mel dropped her foot, bringing her broom back in place with an easy twirl. Just as the end hit her shoulder, Mel froze, steps halted even as they started again.
Her broom...
Doing her best to ignore the shaking in her own hands, Mel shifted, moving to hold her broom level in front of her.
This was...
Her unsteady fingers tightened around the wood, her knuckles bleaching white, that same tight heat crawling up her chest and throat again.
This was the first Christmas gift she'd gotten from her father. The first thing her father had ever given her.
Before she realised what was happening, tears had already blurred her vision into uselessness.
'My mother has confirmed we're doing a vigil over the New Year again. If you wanted to come, I'm sure you're all welcome.'
Susan's eyes narrowed slightly, running her tongue absently over her teeth as she stared at Zach. Everyone else was already responding, either they had nothing else planned and would attend, or they had prior engagements that would bar them from doing so. Susan was well aware she would be expected to agree to attend — in fact, she suspected she was the whole reason Zach was bringing it up — but she wasn't entirely sure if she could.
Not because of the politics of the situation, though she wasn't ignorant of that whole mess. House Smith was somewhat unusual among British families, in that they were a very old family, and a comparatively wealthy one, but had never managed to be raised to nobility. Of course, that was mostly because they'd been a client house of a succession of Noble and Most Ancient Houses — first Slytherin, known to have already been one of their vassals at the first meeting of the Wizengamot (though they'd used a different name at the time, obviously), then Hufflepuff, and most recently Maðyc, passing from one to another as their patron house died off. They'd been independent since shortly after the Statute, and had been jostling for political influence ever since with some mixed success, but hadn't yet managed to secure their own title. Not that the current Mistress of the House wasn't still trying her damnedest.
Zach had been trying to cosy up to her since the moment they'd been Sorted into Hufflepuff together. Even before, actually, at any social function they both happened to be dragged to, but he'd started fawning over her with almost single-minded intensity about then. Which was perfectly understandable — her House may be down to only two members, but they were still filthy rich, and they were one of the very few Ancient Houses left. It wasn't unexpected Zach's Mistress would tell him to try to befriend her by any means necessary.
Honestly, it was almost adorable sometimes. Zach was a bit too stodgy and meticulously proper for her tastes, but the earnest innocence thick in all of his overtures was at times endearing. Enough she put up with his more annoying moods.
That he'd made himself known as one of her suitors at practically the moment of her fifteenth birthday was still mortifying, though. Understandable, but really.
Once the babble at that announcement had died down a bit, Susan said, 'I honestly don't know if I can make it. I'll write your aunt when I have an answer.' Mistress Smith, she meant, technically Zach's great-great-aunt. Overly-friendly woman kept insisting Susan use her first name, which had always made her uncomfortable. She realised she was Lady Bones and everything, so technically her social better, but the woman was, no joke, a hundred years older than her...
Zach blinked in confusion for just a second, accusing eyes then jumping to Tony. The other boy immediately raised both hands, said, 'Woah, woah, don't look at me like that, Smith. I have nothing to do with it.'
'Oh? Who else, then?'
'Black.' It wasn't just Tony who said it. Somehow, most of the table — Hannah, Megan, Olivie, Terry, Ernie — managed to say it almost in perfect unison. And then broke into giggles, just because.
Susan waited it out, shaking her head at them with a tolerant smile on her lips. 'Yes, yes, laugh it up, you ridiculous people.'
Smirking, Hannah muttered, 'Hypocrite.'
'Well, I mean, yeah.' Before anyone else could say anything, and a few people were opening their mouths to try, Susan raised her voice slightly, cutting over them. 'I will come if I can make it — your aunt knows how to throw one hell of a party.' Enough calling it a "vigil" seemed inappropriate, honestly. 'But I have no idea what Mel's plans are like over break, it's possible something might come up. So no promises.'
Olivie gave her a strange look at that. Well, really, most of the table did, but Olivie was the first one to say anything. 'You haven't talked about it?'
Susan just shrugged. They'd only been together for a couple weeks. Especially with Mel being the way she could be sometimes, she thought it perfectly reasonable to hold off making plans for break. Which was slightly annoying, yes, when people kept bringing her invitations like this one, especially since Mel's House, newly revived and all, didn't have any established traditions she could try to plan around. But it wasn't annoying enough it was worth making her extremely skittish girlfriend uncomfortable over. It was just stupid shite, it would work out, no big deal.
'You'll be there on the Solstice, though.'
She winced, avoiding the eyes of the group's sole Slytherin. It wasn't odd Millie would ask, since Houses Bulstrode and Travers were co-hosting it this year, but she hadn't a clue how to answer. Normally, she would assume Mel knew about the ridiculous society ball on the Solstice Susan was essentially obligated to attend, but Mel didn't know a lot of things, she wasn't sure. And, since she had absolutely no idea whether Mel would be at all interested in going to that kind of thing, and since they had only been together a couple weeks, she hadn't mentioned it. She definitely should mention it sometime before the end of classes, assuming she didn't scare Mel off somehow before then, but she hadn't yet. 'I should be there, yes. We'll see.'
'You haven't asked her yet, have you.'
Susan shot Hannah an entirely venomless glare. 'Shush, you.'
Silent, Hannah smiled sweetly, eyes bright with internal teasing.
Ugh. That expression had been far less annoying back when Susan could just kiss her whenever she did it. Maybe it had been a bad idea to encourage it so much...
A bitter edge on his voice, Terry said, 'I fucking hate going to those things. Warren always finds me, she never leaves me alone.'
'I'm shocked, Boot, so dismissive of a fair maiden's affections.'
'She's twice my age!'
'You know what they say about experience and all that.'
'Well, fine, but she's definitely not a maiden.'
Susan couldn't repress a snort. He wasn't wrong. She was pretty sure Cassie Warren's virtue had been a lost cause before Susan had even been born.
'Oh.' Zach frowned for a moment, drawing a few curious looks, before turning to Susan again. 'It's that swotty newblood friend of yours.'
'Maïa?' Susan turned in her seat, looking over her shoulder across the public common room, to find Hermione picking her way through the tables. She'd only caught a second's glance of the other girl's face and her heart was already sinking into her stomach. 'Ah, shite.'
'What's wrong?'
'I don't know, but Maïa's worried about something.'
'Please tell me she's not freaking out about exams already.'
Susan rolled her eyes.
Everyone stopped their chattering the instant Hermione reached the table. She hadn't even been standing there for a second, giving Susan zero chance to say anything, before blurting out, 'Something's wrong with Mel.'
She blinked. Well, okay, then...? 'I'm gonna need you to be more specific.'
'I don't know what's wrong! She won't talk to me.' Hermione looked extremely put out by that, even pouting a little. 'I just found her up a tree, and she won't say anything and she won't come down.'
'Er...' Susan glanced around the table, but instantly wished she hadn't. A lot of the expressions she caught implied less than flattering thoughts about Mel. Suffocating her own annoyance, Susan turned back to Hermione. 'Which tree?'
A few minutes later, and Hermione was leading her out the front doors. Before the chill November wind could bother her too much, she drew her wand and cast a warming charm over herself — she hadn't planned on going outside, after all, she really wasn't dressed for it. Hermione turned toward the nearest edge of the forest, partway up the cliff over the lake. Loose rocks skittering down ahead of them, they slipped through a line of naked bushes. The subtle sense of trepidation Susan had been doing her best to ignore grew slowly stronger as Hermione led the way, picking over roots and fallen branches, closer to the edge of the cliff. It wasn't nearly as high here as it was on the other side of the castle, but still, there was no way that boded well.
Susan was getting rather seriously worried when Hermione stopped, nodding at an ancient oak just at the edge, the craggy trunk within an arm's reach of a twenty-metre drop to the glittering water below.
She took a deep breath, trying to force the coolness, the calmness out toward the unpleasant itching crawling along her arms. It was fine. Come on.
Susan slowly picked her way toward the tree, staring up through the branches. If they weren't entirely barren of leaves, it would have been almost impossible to see her from down here, but she was pretty sure... 'Mel?' That had to be her, right? The figure half up the tree was facing the opposite direction, out over the water, so Susan couldn't see her very well, but who else could it be?
Orbiting the trunk to get a better angle, sending a cautious glance in the direction of the cliff edge every couple steps, Susan could eventually make out her face. Yes, that was definitely Mel. She was pretty sure she even recognised the deep purple jumper she was wearing, probably seen it before, and that was her Firebolt she was hugging tightly to her chest. It was hard to tell from this far away, but it looked like Mel had been crying. Was still crying? She couldn't hear anything from down here, but it was a bloody tall tree, and it was a rather windy day, whistling in her ears and setting empty branches to creaking, so it was possible it just wouldn't carry this far. 'Mel? Can you hear me up there?'
She waited, long seconds, but Mel didn't say a word, glance down in her direction. Barely even moved.
Raising her voice a bit, Susan called, 'Are you going to make me follow you up there? Skirts aren't great for climbing trees in, you know.'
Silence. Stillness. Mel might as well be a statue for all she reacted.
Susan let out a sigh, taking a few seconds to just curse in her head. Sometimes she couldn't image why she bothered. Mel could really be a pain to deal with. But there was no use lying to herself. She didn't need to imagine.
Not that she didn't imagine anything at all Mel-related, of course, but it was a rather different kind of imagining. Which she would be keeping to herself, for the time being. She doubted Mel would react at all well to Susan talking about that. Such a skittish little thing, honestly.
Susan glanced the direction they'd come, noted Hermione had left at some point. Right, good. Skirts really weren't meant for tree climbing, and Hermione would get very uncomfortable should Susan start flashing her knickers at her. Even accidentally. Pulling her skirt up a bit, making sure the hem was a fair bit above her knees, gathered the excess material at her left hip, twisted it about, making a little knot she was pretty sure would hold. She jumped in place a couple times, just to make sure. Okay. After a couple seconds of glancing between the tree and her own feet, Susan let out another sigh, kicked off her shoes. Soft leather and tree bark really don't mix. A glance to confirm nobody else was in sight, and Susan quick shimmied out of her tights, crumpled the muggle fabric up into a ball, shoved it into one of her shoes. A quick charm set her shoes to glowing softly, on the off-chance she should nearly forget them. Not likely, granted, but she'd once had a nasty habit of running all around the manor grounds barefoot, so just in case.
And by "nasty" she mostly meant she'd been repeatedly yelled at for it. Blah blah, injure yourself, blah blah, behaviour unbecoming of a young lady, blah blah, your mother would be embarrassed, blah. Of course, she'd already been in muggle tights. The first time Neine Rhonwen had caught her wearing those she thought the irrationally incensed woman would have a bloody stroke. Still glared and muttered at her every time.
But then, it was possible that, after Hannah had first shown her some muggle stuff years ago, that was a part of why she'd started wearing them in the first place. Neine Alis thought it was hilarious, so she was in the clear.
Getting up the first little bit was annoying. The trunk was bare of branches up to well above her head, high enough Susan had to wonder how Mel, who was significantly shorter than her, had ever made it up there. Oh, wait, she had her broom with her, never mind. Susan picked a branch, then had to take two quick steps and a jump off the trunk to reach the bloody thing. She hung off the branch, her shoulders yelling at her more with each second as her feet fruitlessly scrambled at the trunk, eventually managing to get enough friction, pulling her hips up over her head. An ankle up over the branch, shifting a bit to get her knee over. She couldn't hold back a groan of a pain as she pulled herself around to the top of the branch, the bark scratching at the insides of her legs. Once she was settled on the branch, her thighs still angrily stinging, she glared up at Mel, luxuriating in a few seconds of surliness before she had to start being nice. She hoped Mel appreciated her coming after her, climbing this cursed thing in a bloody skirt, shite...
After a moment of quietly fuming, Susan brushed her own annoyance away, then started pulling herself back to her feet. She wasn't exactly an amateur when it came to climbing things not meant to be climbed — blah blah, injure yourself, blah blah, behaviour unbecoming of a young lady, blah blah, your mother would be embarrassed, blah — so it didn't take any time at all to get herself up to where Mel was. Just as she passed within a few metres, there was an odd tingly feeling, like lightning on the air. She frowned. Was that a silencing barrier? Something?
When she moved to pull herself up onto one last branch, Mel jumped, head snapping around toward her. Probably a silencing barrier, then. No wonder she hadn't responded to her yelling at her, all right. And she'd definitely been crying, Susan noticed, eyes red, tracks from dried tears striping her cheeks. Past tense, though, she wasn't crying at the moment. 'Susan! What are you—?' Mel broke off, face flushing, pulled one hand away from her broom to scrub at her face.
'You don't need to do that, Mel.' She froze, eyes flicking up to stare at Susan over her wrist against her cheek. 'People cry sometimes. Nothing to be embarrassed about. Mostly just annoyed you made me climb up this tree, honestly.'
Mel frowned at her. 'I didn't make you do anything.'
'I suppose not,' she said with a little shrug. 'But you were up a tree crying, and didn't seem to hear me when I tried talking at you.' Mel winced — yeah, silencing barrier, for some reason. 'What was I supposed to do, walk away? Throw a shoe at you?'
'Sorry, I didn't mean to...' Mel sighed, turning to stare down at the lake. 'I just needed a moment, is all. People were being noisy, so...'
'Yeah, it's fine, I get it. I was just worried, is all.' A slight churlishness came over Mel's face, wasn't sure how to read that. 'All right. As long as we're up here, move.'
Mel snapped back to face her, blinking. 'Huh?'
'Scoot forward a bit.'
'Er...' Giving her a disproportionately suspicious look, Mel shifted a little, slid a few inches up the branch. Susan rolled her eyes, gestured to move more. Taking far more encouragement than really seemed necessary, Mel had moved a couple feet along, carefully balanced on the branch — though, it looked like she was using the flying charm on the broom to cheat a little, clever.
With a bit of maneuvering, nearly falling when her foot slipped, she got herself to standing on the same branch Mel was on, just behind her. She dropped one hand away from one of the branches she was propped against, hitching her skirt up a bit more — seemingly unconscious, Mel's eyes jumped down to her thighs then, flushing red faster than Susan would think possible, turned to face forward, her shoulders visibly tense.
Since she wasn't looking at the moment, Susan didn't bother repressing a teasing smirk. Silly girl.
Sitting down was a bit awkward, since she there weren't any branches in convenient places to support herself. Now that she was actually up here, it was increasingly obvious Mel hadn't climbed this thing at all, just floated up on her broom. She managed it eventually, the trunk scraping at Susan's back through her clothes. One foot planted for balance on a branch just down to the side, the other floating free, Susan let out a breathy sigh. 'Okay, we're good. Come on, then.'
'Huh?'
Susan shook her head. This girl sometimes, honestly. 'Sit back, come on.' Mel turned to stare at her over her shoulder, looking an odd combination of embarrassed, reluctant, and grateful. Then, with a girding breath, Mel was moving again. Very obviously using her broom to float over, there was no way she could stand on the branch like that and not fall over, but she guessed Mel was a ridiculously good flyer. Once Mel was close enough, Susan had her hands on both her shoulders, guiding her closer in. So she was in place to feel Mel going rigid, tension turning her hard and stiff. Not unexpected, honestly. Soon Mel was settled, flush against Susan hip to shoulder, more or less — Mel was a bit shorter than her, but still. Susan wrapped both arms around Mel's waist, hugging the smaller girl against her, propping her chin on her shoulder. And she waited.
Given how extremely uncomfortable she could get extremely easily, it didn't take that long at all. Mel started off unaccountably tense, as though expecting an attack at any moment. Susan had had plenty of time to think about this sort of thing, and while Mel hadn't told her much of anything at all, she'd still picked up enough to really not like the implications. But, slowly, bit by bit over long seconds, the tension gradually dribbled away, Mel slowly relaxing against her. After maybe a minute or two, she'd dropped her broom to balance across her legs, her head leaning to rest against Susan's chest and shoulder with a soft sigh. She didn't have to see to know her eyes had fallen closed by now.
All right, good. Moving on, then. 'Do you want to talk about it?'
Mel didn't answer for a long moment. She partially tensed with the question, relaxing again far more quickly than last time, but then sat in silence for what felt like minutes. Finally, 'I probably should.'
'You really don't have to if you don't want to. I'm not going to make you, or anything.'
'I don't know.' Mel let out a long sigh, leaning further into Susan, somewhat to her surprise. Not unpleasant surprise, of course, but still. 'I've learned just keeping shite to myself doesn't fix anything, but I still want to most of the time. Habit, I guess.'
'I guess.' Susan pulled one arm away from Mel, flicked her wand out into her hand. She dispelled her warming charm, then recast it, slightly weaker and redistributed to focus mostly on her legs. She had gotten a little hot climbing this cursed thing, and Mel was warm. Her wand fallen back into its holster, she returned her arm to Mel's waist, smirking a little when Mel actually moved her own out of the way a little for her. 'That doesn't mean you have to talk to me, though. If you'd rather, Maïa, Lord Sirius...'
Mel tensed again, suddenly, even holding her breath. Huh. 'Talking to Hermione can be hard sometimes. It's complicated. And Sirius... I can't talk to Sirius about this. I wouldn't know what to say. But I...' She trailed off, sinking a bit more against Susan. Without entirely meaning to, she tightened her arms a bit, hugging her closer. Yes, very warm. Would almost think Mel was an elf or something, so tiny and running so hot. Her voice low and shy, so quiet Susan almost couldn't even hear it, Mel said, 'You are my girlfriend. I should be able to, you know, tell you things.'
'You don't have to.' In fact, she'd already resigned herself to Mel remaining a mystery half the time, she was fine. Somewhat frustrating, yes, but some people are just private like that. 'I'm always happy to listen if you want me to, but don't force yourself on my account.'
Voice turning somewhat darkly amused, 'Why are you so nice to me?'
'I'm a nice person, didn't you know?' Mel let out a snort. 'Hey, come on. I think I'm offended. I am the picture of a perfect Hufflepuff, kind and loyal and true.'
'And also humble.'
'Yes, very humble. Few people are more humble than I. It's a gift, I'll admit.'
Shaking her head against Susan's chest, Mel chuckled under her breath for a moment. 'You're ridiculous.'
'We've established this, yes. If I weren't ridiculous, would you still like me?'
Mel shrugged. 'Probably not.'
'There you go, then.'
'Mm.' Mel was silent a short moment, the fingers of one hand lightly trailing along Susan's arm. 'I was reading my mother's journals.'
'Oh, yeah.' Susan would admit to herself she had a little flash of jealousy whenever Mel mentioned those — her own mother hadn't left behind anything like that at all, and Mel seemingly had hundreds of the bloody things. She kept it to herself, though, hadn't said anything to Mel and didn't plan to. Because she knew enough to be jealous, she knew what it was like, she could imagine what it would be like, she didn't want to take away from it even a little if she could help it. 'Found something bad?'
'Not...' Mel took in and out a long breath, her head shaking a little again. 'Not, not bad, exactly. Just... I don't know what to do with it. It's...weird. And a little bad, I guess, but not really bad. I don't even know why I ran off like I did, I don't know why I'm feeling like this, I just...'
'What happened?'
Another breath, this one shuddering a bit. Mel's fingers tightened around Susan's arm, which was curious, but okay. 'It's... You can't tell anyone, okay.'
Normally, Susan might be offended by how often Mel kept saying that about shite she told her. It was a little insulting, that Mel thought she ever would just go blabbing anything shared in private. But she knew Mel didn't mean anything by it — she would guess all the idiocy that had happened to her over the years just on account of being Harry bloody Potter did lend to paranoia — so she always tried to ignore it. 'I swear I won't.'
Another breath, a tense shiver running along her spine. 'I... James Potter isn't my father.'
Susan blinked. Then she blinked again. 'Huh. But then, wh— Oh, obviously, Sirius?' Mel nodded, then leaned a little over, the side of her head coming against Susan's cheek. She hugged Mel a little closer, burrowed a little further into her neck. 'I really don't know what to say here.'
'I guess I wouldn't expect you to.'
Silence lingered for long seconds. The anxious shaking that had overtaken Mel for a moment there was gone again, relaxing into Susan far more than she usually allowed herself. Which she was definitely not complaining about. Susan cast about for something to say — it wasn't very easy, she was getting a bit distracted by thoughts of Mel's neck and the kissing of it, which probably wouldn't be taken very well just now — finally stumbling on something. 'Ah, and he didn't say anything about this?'
'No. I, er, don't think he remembers? You know. Azkaban.'
'Oh.' That... That was fucking terrible. The dementors had fucked the poor bloke up so badly he didn't even remember his own daughter. She'd wondered before if foreign nations hadn't the right of it when they censured Britain over Azkaban, and it was shite like this... He was innocent in the first place, but even if he weren't! Seriously... 'Are you going to...'
'What? Tell him?' Mel let out a harsh sigh, the hand on Susan's arm lifting to rub at her face. 'I probably should eventually, but... Jesus, what am I supposed to say? How do I even—? No, I don't know. I wouldn't even know how to start.'
'Yeah, I don't think I would either.' Not that that was a problem she would ever have. No one doubted Dilwyn Bones was her father, and he had died before Susan had even been born. She wondered if she would end up feeling jealous over this too. She didn't at the moment, but it wasn't inconceivable she might later.
'But it's not even that, really.'
'No?'
'Or, not just that, anyway.' Susan noticed Mel tensing up again, so she snuggled into her further, but Mel didn't react at all. Both hands had gone to the broom again, so tight Susan saw her fingers changing colours. 'Fay came and recruited me for a pickup game, so I was going down, and... It occurred to me, this, right here, is the first thing my–my father ever gave me. It was a Christmas present, third year.'
Susan frowned. 'Wasn't that the year he broke out of Azkaban? He sent you a Firebolt for Christmas while on the run from the Aurors?' She wasn't sure if she should be more amused, impressed, or exasperated.
'Yeah, well, Sirius.' She couldn't see it from this angle, but the smile was clearly audible on Mel's voice. 'Funny in retrospect. I didn't get to keep it right away, you know. Hermione ran off to McGonagall, it was confiscated while it was stripped down and tested for curses. See, Hermione thought it'd been sent by escaped mass-murderer Sirius Black, who everybody knew was trying to kill me.'
'Oh, Maïa. Even when she's wrong, she's right.' That was kind of funny, yes, but Susan was honestly a bit distracted by Mel calling McGonagall, well, McGonagall. Did Gryffindors not call her by her first name? It was possible Pomona was just a massive Hufflepuff...okay, it was likely Pomona was just a massive Hufflepuff, but that honestly felt weird to her.
'And, I was thinking... For a second there, I...'
When Mel hadn't said anything for maybe a half minute, feeling all tight and nervous, Susan prompted, 'Mel?'
'I... I was pleased. I was pleased Sirius is my father instead. Because... Because James is dead, and Sirius isn't, and...' Mel let out another long sigh, this one thick and wavering, a slight hint of tears squeezing the edges. 'I just... I just feel like a terrible person, that's all.'
Oh, wow, this was a bloody mess. Susan had no idea what to do with this. 'You're not a terrible person, Mel.'
'And you're an expert, are you?'
'On terrible people? No.' She turned her face into Mel's neck a bit, skin warm and soft and smelling of...well, she wasn't sure what exactly, but vaguely sweet and flowery. Some body wash or shampoo or something, obviously, but she couldn't tell what it was suppose to smell like. Mel's breath hitched a bit, starting, but she didn't say anything, and she didn't attempt to pull away. 'I'd like to think I'm not entirely hopeless when it comes to good people, though.'
Mel gave a thin, slightly nervous-sounding laugh.
Susan waited a moment, just long enough to be sure Mel wasn't intend to say anything. 'I really don't know how to help, Mel.'
'I wasn't exactly looking for help.'
'I know. I just... I just want to.' Fuck, she wanted to. She knew she hadn't anything close to the whole picture yet, but she still knew Mel had a lot of awful shite in her life, and it just... She just really hated it sometimes. A week or so ago, she'd been laying awake in bed at night, silently raging at the world over it, the thought suddenly hitting her she must care about Mel more than she'd been looking for going into this. Or this soon, for that matter. But that was fine, she wasn't complaining. It was like reaching for a knut and pulling away a galleon.
A lot of things about this so far have been sort of like that, really.
'If there ever is something I can do for you, you'll tell me, right? Cause, you don't make it obvious, and I want to help if I can.'
Mel took another shaky breath. 'Yeah. If there's something, I'll try to tell you.' That was probably the closest to her word she was going to get.
A subject change. This needed a subject change. Mel needed a subject change, really, it was quite obvious she didn't want to think about this anymore. All right. She thought for a second, trying to come up with something, and immediately snapped back to the conversation she'd been having when Hermione had found her. That would do. 'I was wondering.'
'Hmm?'
'What are your plans like over break?'
'Er...' Mel hesitated a long moment, then shrugged. 'Just, legally changing my name, stuff to do with that. I know there's a House Black...thing...we're doing on, er, the twenty-third? I think it's the twenty-third. Think that's it. Why?'
'Well, there's this thing on the Solstice. Silly society party, you know, with expensive food and fancy music and pretty dresses, the whole thing.' Mel nodded — obviously, she'd heard of the things before. 'Since I'm technically Lady Bones, I'm more or less required to go. The thing is from sunset the twenty-first to sunrise on the twenty-second, officially. We wouldn't have to stay that long.'
Mel was quiet, very still. She hadn't gone all tense again, though, so it probably wasn't a bad quiet. Susan didn't know how to read it. 'You're asking me to go with you.'
'Yes.'
Silence again, but only for a couple seconds. 'Are we allowed? I mean, two girls, you know...'
Susan was again reminded Mel was raised by muggles. The things they got worked up over, seriously... 'Nobody cares about that. There'll be others too, doubt anyone will even comment.'
'Right, forgot. And you know people will probably know who I am by then. I mean, who I was. You know what I mean.'
'Yes, I know what you mean. So?'
'Well, just...' Mel shifted in place a bit, obviously venting some sort of awkwardness. 'People will comment. Everyone is stupid over the Boy-Who-Lived shite—'
'You know, they're going to have find something else to call you all the time.'
Susan could feel Mel rolling her eyes at her. 'Still, it's a lot... People are stupid, it's just a lot of annoying attention, and people are going to be awful...'
'That's not really anything new, Mel. I'm one of only two members left of a Noble and Most Ancient House. A Noble and Most Ancient House that still has most of our wealth. And I'm young, and unmarried. And I'm me — proper society types have never been exactly happy with me, and they make no secret of it.' She shrugged. 'I'm used to annoying attention, and people being awful. If it bothers you, that's one thing, but it doesn't bother me.'
'Well...' She let out another sigh, and when she spoke again her voice was slightly faster, slightly thicker. If Susan had to guess, and she really didn't, they were at the actual source of Mel's reluctance. 'I just don't want to— I've never done anything like this before, really, and I'm sure I'm going to look silly, and I'm going to make an idiot of myself, and—'
'Mel.' That was enough to get her to stop, but Susan didn't speak immediately. She just held Mel close, face pressed to her neck, waiting for her to calm down again. Or possibly just feeling and smelling her, okay, but that was slightly creepy, she shouldn't admit to that. 'Don't worry about that stuff. I don't expect you to be a perfect lady or anything. Those types are boring as shite anyway, honestly. If you "make an idiot" of yourself, well, I usually make an idiot of myself at these things anyway. On purpose, to annoy them.' Mel let out a little startled laugh at that. 'So, it doesn't bother me. If it bothers you, that's one thing, but don't hold yourself back on my account.
'And, well...' This would be awkward. Why did they have to be up a bloody tree for this conversation? Susan pulled back slightly, leaning against the trunk, tilted a bit to the side. She brought one hand up, softly prodding at the side of Mel's head, getting her to turn. The angle was slightly awkward, and Mel's face was very close, practically touching, but it would do. She trailed her fingers gently over Mel's forehead, along the hairline, down her cheek. Mel's breath hitched slightly when she slipped over her lips, Susan couldn't help smiling a little. Then down along her neck, lifting away at her collarbones — yeah, Mel would react badly to that. She replaced her arm around Mel's waist, tipped her head to bring her forehead to meet Mel's. 'You won't look silly,' she said, eyes steady on Mel's as much as she could, cocked at a weird angle. 'You're beautiful. Put you in a pretty dress, all made up and everything, well, I can't imagine you being anything else.'
Mel just stared back at her. Her eyes would flick away every once in a while, her mouth opening only to silently close again. She shifted in place slightly a couple times, seemingly unable to get comfortable. Well, no wonder, they were up a bloody tree. Finally, she said, 'I, erm...' She trailed off immediately, paused to clear her throat. 'Right, okay, I'll go.'
'You don't have to, you know. If you want to.'
Mel let out a short laugh, Susan's hair fluttering with her breath. 'Well, Ellie keeps telling me I won't know what I want until I try it. How about we find out?'
Despite a lingering worry she would just be dragging Mel into something she'd hate, Susan couldn't help smiling. It helped that Mel had just sort of committed to a date over a month from now. That was nice. 'How about.'
'Susan?'
She blinked. That was an odd tone of voice. Sort of... No, no idea how to interpret that. 'Yes?'
'Can...' Mel shifted again, pushing herself back against Susan, tilting slightly to the side. Which involved flexing her back in a way that was extremely distracting. 'Can you, er, kiss me up here without knocking as both over?'
Her first impulse was to laugh, but she choked it back. She smirked instead. 'I don't know. Let's find out.' Turned out? She could. It involved tilting her neck at an almost painful angle, but she found Mel's lips with hers after only a second. Mel was still a bit clumsy with this, but, well, that was to be expected, wasn't it? Susan was pretty sure she was the first person Mel had ever kissed.
And, honestly, she made up for it in... Ah, Susan wasn't sure what the right word was. She was just so...soft, and sweet, and cautious, and...delicate? She wasn't sure, she had no fucking clue what she was talking about. But the way Mel kissed her back, all slow, and hesitant, slightly awkward, but at the same time with an almost painfully vulnerable need, just barely felt in each slight motion of her lips, each pass of her breath, each shift of her body against hers...
Well, there were reasons Susan had been taking rather more alone time than usual lately.
She was so intensely focused, absorbing each cautious touch, each hitch to her breath, every tiny fold in her lips, Susan nearly jumped when she felt Mel's fingers slip into her hair, totally unanticipated. And it was Mel pushing harder into her, hand pulling down on her head slightly, Mel leaning up a little into her. Not a bad thing, of course, she was nearly smirking in fact. Just, somewhat out of character.
Perhaps she should do things like that beautiful bit there more often.
But this angle was getting slightly annoying, so Susan lifted her shoulder a bit, turning, nudging Mel up into sitting. It took her a moment to get the message, but then she was moving. Not taking her mouth from Susan's, of course — though she did pause, lips unmoving light against hers, hot breath slipping through — turning and lifting a bit until she was sitting sideways right in front of her.
And then her other hand was in Susan's hair too. What about the broom? Eh, she'd probably set it to float next to them or something, whatever. She was quite incapable of caring at the moment. Mel's breath was turning thicker and louder, and without really thinking about it Susan had tilted her mouth open, and Mel started a bit when Susan brought her tongue, soft, gentle to her lower lip — was it bad all these little twitches of hers made Susan feel a bit smug? — but she recovered almost instantly, pulling herself tighter into Susan, cautiously welcoming her.
She wouldn't push too far with that today. She knew Mel wasn't at all used to this sort of thing. She had to try a little, though, Mel tasted a lot like honey at the moment for some reason, she was just...
Susan had pulled her elbows closer, her fingers coming to Mel's sides, her back, feeling each press of her breath, the little jerks and stutters of muscles randomly twitching for one reason or another. Each one sent Susan shivering inside, growing all too warm and tense and impatient, very distracting. She hesitated, just a second, then decided to hell with it, slipped her fingers below the hem, then up under the jumper and the shirt beneath it. She expected Mel to react badly, to push her away, but she couldn't help herself, she was nearly shaking with the need to touch her, come quite suddenly out of nowhere, and her back was too soft, and too hot, and too perfect, and even if Mel was annoyed with her it would be worth it.
What she didn't expect was for Mel to moan into her mouth. Sharp and sudden, the sound all high and nasal and tight, as though she'd tried to hold it in and couldn't, her back arching with Susan's fingers, pushing her chest into hers, and...just...she...
Bloody buggering fuck, she wanted her. Now, right now.
So, of course, they had to be up a bloody tree.
Before Susan could even start weighing the pros and cons of fingering her girlfriend half up a tree on the edge of a cliff in the middle of the Hogwarts grounds, Mel was jerking away, scrambling back so suddenly Susan was left oddly dizzy. Suddenly enough Mel lost her grip around this stupid branch, would have fallen if her flailing hands hadn't managed to catch her broom, floating just to the side. Susan was extremely tempted to move after her, but, no, that would be a bad idea. Very skittish. Wait. Don't scare her off.
And Mel did look scared. Though that might not be quite the right word. She was intensely flushed, almost a painful-looking red, eyes sprung wide, breaths coming in heavy pants, continuing long after Susan had fully recovered. Long enough Susan was starting to get worried, actually. By the time, well, it had to be a minute or two, Mel was still sitting there, desperately breathing, half facing away from her. That...didn't look good.
She hadn't just fucked up, had she? Because...well, that would be bad.
She held out, watching Mel's breathing only slowly calm, for as long as she could before she just had to know. 'Mel? You okay?'
Mel shook her head, her breaths turning clearly conscious, slower. Finding a spot to speak in? 'No, I'm... I'm fine. It's okay.'
'You're sure?'
'You didn't...' She paused to swallow, the break from breathing enough she nearly gasped when she was done. 'You didn't do, anything wrong. It's fine.'
'Oh. Erm.' It really didn't look like it. But what was she going to do, try to convince Mel to be annoyed with her?'
Mel gave her a slightly exasperated look, as though realising she didn't entirely believe her. 'Really, Susan. I just... I don't know. It's fine, I'm... That was just a bit...'
'This is one of those things I'm supposed to take as a compliment, isn't it?'
She wasn't entirely sure she liked the tone of Mel's breathless laughter.
Just as a reminder, this Severus is still less than nice to his students, but he isn't so awful as in canon. The difference is enough he didn't feature as Neville's boggart, though he's still most everyone's least favourite professor. Consequence of the differences I had to make to his character to make him at all believable as a consistent, thinking human being. Considering a couple things said in the first scene, I thought it prudent to mention this again, in case anyone was wondering.
[James is almost certainly your father. Not that it would have made any difference, I suspect...They would have claimed it was James for legal reasons, even if it was really Sirius.] — Quoted from chapter nineteen, imprecisely. Mel isn't reproducing what Remus said verbatim, but the essence is close enough.
Neine Rhonwen — Rhonwen Prewett née Fawley, Susan's mother's mother. "Neine" is a somewhat childish Brīþwn word for grandmother. (Bones is a mostly Gaelic family, but the Prewetts and Fawleys are strongly Brythonic; the use of Brīþwn here reflects Rhonwen's preferences, not Susan's.)
Neine Alis — Alis Prewett née Łuyełin, Susan's mother's father's mother. Great-grandmother, technically, but Susan still uses "neine" for her.
Several reviewers have been waiting for that confirmation. There you go, then.
Chapter somewhat late again, yeah. I lost two whole days of writing because neighbours were shooting off fireworks at all hours of the night, couldn't fucking sleep. Then this chapter came out way longer than I expected. I set myself the goal I WILL NOT EAT UNTIL THIS CHAPTER IS DONE, then at nearly eleven at night, I had written eight thousand words, finally finished, starving and with a terrible fucking headache. Had to put off proofreading it until today, because I could barely read by that point. If that last part feels a bit off, ah, whoops?
Oh, the things I do to myself for you people xD
Until next time,
~Wings
