A/N:
welcome to book two! i am super excited to write this one for you all to read.
hope you enjoy the story. please feel free to leave comments along the way; anything and everything is appreciated!
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BOOK TWO: Fear is Only the Beginning
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prologue.
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March 16th, 1927
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On an early spring morning, before dawn has broken across the sky, Cecilia Daphne Greengrass gives birth to two squalling baby girls in Greengrass Manor. She is surrounded by a midwife and two House Elves. The process of labour had been strenuous, but free of complications. The mother is strong, both magically and physically—her face, though weary and exhausted, is still elegant and beautiful.
Later, once the girls are settled in the arms of their mother, a young boy is brought into the room.
"Sebastian, come meet your new sisters."
The two infants are sleeping now, their faces clean and rosy. They both have thatches of dark brown hair upon their heads, just like their mother.
"This is Annalise and Adelaide."
The boy, Sebastian, steps closer. His father is just behind him, a heavy hand upon his shoulder. Sebastian peers down curiously at his new siblings. They look like little dolls with their round faces and soft tan skin, all wrapped up in thick white blankets.
"Two healthy girls," Cecilia says to her husband, who grunts in assent. Then she adds to her son, "Why don't you come closer and see?"
Sebastian steps right up to his mother, so that he can see the little individual lashes on his sisters' eyelids. "They're so small."
"They will be bigger someday," Cecilia says. "And you will help me watch over them, won't you?"
Sebastian remains quiet, watching the slow movements of the limbs underneath the swaths of white, listening to the quiet sounds of the girls' breathing. "I will, mother."
Cecilia looks pleased. She looks down upon the children in her arms, smiling. They will grow to be beautiful, she knows, for the women in her family have always been blessed with beauty, and their beauty will be an asset for the future.
Though her husband has been satisfied with a son, an heir, Cecilia Greengrass will only find peace when her daughters achieve all that she had wished for her own life.
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September 1st, 1934
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A family of five stands on Platform 9 and ¾. The eldest child, a boy, has a dark trunk with the Greengrass family crest upon it. The two younger girls fidget where they stand. Their mother has one hand on each of their shoulders. The father stands alone, apart from the rest.
"Make us proud, son," says the father to the boy. "Do not disappoint me."
"Yes, father." Sebastian Greengrass inclines his head. "I won't."
"Remember your lessons," says the mother. "Remember how to conduct yourself."
"Yes, mother."
Sebastian submits to a hug from his mother and a pat on the shoulder from his father. Then he looks over at his sisters—two identical, wide-eyed girls in frilly, poofy dresses. "Good bye," he says to them. "I'll see you at Christmas."
"Bye," says one of the girls. "Bye 'Bastian." She squirms under her mother's hand, then tugs lightly at her hair, which has been braided into a plait that drapes just past her collarbone.
"Good bye," says the other girl, who is now holding still.
Sebastian grabs hold of his trunk and tugs it towards the train, expression determined.
"I want to go to Hogwarts with 'Bastian," says Annalise, looking up at her mother.
"Soon," promises Cecilia. "Only four more years, my darlings."
"Will we get lessons, too?" asks Adelaide. "Like Sebastian?"
"You will," confirms the father. His eyes are following his eldest child, who is now boarding the train. "We shall start this year."
Annalise smiles happily. She is ready to be smart, to prove herself, to earn praise like her older brother. She wants to earn the regard and attention of their distant father. She is ready to succeed.
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1936
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Their father doesn't yell, not often. The danger lies not in the volume of his voice, but in the cadence, in the tone, in the words. Girls are silent, obedient, and poised. Girls are meant as decorations, as a soft smile and a pretty dress. Girls listen to their father, anticipate his requests, and act as their mother does. Their father expects all this, and he also expects perfection.
Their mother, by contrast, says less when she is angry. Her disapproval lingers sharply in her silence, in the downward slant of her brow, in the frown of her painted lips. Girls are always underestimated, always looked down upon. Girls must cater to the whims of their fathers, their brothers, their husbands. Girls can do better, but only if they accept the role they must play in front of others. Their mother expects all this, and she expects more.
It is because of this that Annalise knows life isn't the same as it is in fairy tales.
She and Adelaide had been taught how to read at a young age, and Annalise has always found solace in stories. Though things in books are dramatic and romantic and exciting, real life isn't a single bit like that. Annalise has her parents, her brother, and her sister. A small circle of people who are always around, who are always there. But Adelaide is the only one who is always there for her, and that makes all the difference.
For a long time, Annalise had wanted them to be the same. As twins, it had seemed only correct for them to do so. Same clothes, same hairstyle, same daughter. Adelaide is her other half, and they have always been inseparable. But things had shifted, after Sebastian had started school at Hogwarts.
With their eldest child gone, their parents had tightened their focus to their two remaining children. The daughters that they hoped to someday leverage in advantageous marriages. The lessons started slow, first with etiquette, then with other skills like playing piano and learning new languages.
Annalise struggles with everything. She is clumsy, she is slow. Though she knows she is smart, because Adelaide tells her so, she isn't good enough at connecting her smarts to the rest of her.
But it is alright, because Adelaide is there to help her.
After they'd embarked on lessons, it had become apparent that Adelaide was on a different level of smarts. Adelaide didn't hesitate. She didn't stop to second guess things all the time. Adelaide was what Annalise could have been, what she wanted to be, if only she wasn't always so far behind.
Still, Annalise doesn't let her feelings of inadequacy bother her. Adelaide is smarter than she is, is better in nearly every way, and that's alright. Annalise has her hopes and dreams for a better future, one where they can live together somewhere far away from everything. She has no need for a hero to save her, because someday she and Adelaide will set themselves free.
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June 1939
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When Adelaide hands over her marks after breakfast, Annalise allows her brain to automatically make comparisons as she looks down the list. The numbers are impressive. If Adelaide's done this well, Annalise wonders just how high Tom Riddle must have scored on his exams.
Tom reminds her a bit of Sebastian at times. Proud and unyielding. Dark eyes and firm convictions. But Tom can be nice when he wants to. He helps them all with homework and looks over their essays for the correct concepts. And he's close with Harry, who is sweet and friendly, so he really can't be all that bad.
Still, Annalise wonders what Tom will do about the Slytherins that had tripped Harry in the corridor. He seems so calm about it all that it unnerves her a little.
But by the time Annalise finally gets a moment alone with Adelaide, she's nearly forgotten all about the incident.
She and Adelaide are huddled together in the library, which is deserted now that their exams are over. Adelaide had told her to come here so that they could have some privacy to talk.
"I think we'll be alright," Adelaide says, smoothing out the parchment with her marks upon the table.
"Will we?" Annalise pulls out her own list of marks. She's already accidentally spilled water on the corner of it. "I don't think I did that well."
"You did," Adelaide says. "You did perfectly good." Her hand reaches out to touch Annalise's.
"Okay." Annalise takes a deep breath. "We'll be alright," she repeats.
"Now," Adelaide continues, "I think next year you need to focus more on practicals. You do well enough on theory, but you let your nerves get to you too much."
Annalise ducks her head a bit. "I know."
"Which is alright," Adelaide adds. "It's perfectly normal to be nervous. But you need to push past it, you see?"
Annalise nods. "Yes, I do." It's times like this that she doesn't feel like the older sister, even by a measly eight minutes. Sometimes she feels like she's only pretending at being mature and grown up.
"Anyways, what I really wanted us to talk about was Riddle."
"Oh?" This takes Annalise by surprise. Though she's noticed the two of them—Adelaide and Tom—getting along better lately, it's still odd to think of them as friends, especially when Adelaide still calls him by his surname.
"I've made a deal with him," Adelaide says. "He's going to help us, when the time comes."
"Do you think he can?" Annalise asks. Tom is very smart and very driven, but they're all still children, and she can't quite see what Adelaide is thinking. She can't really see what Adelaide thinks Tom can do for them.
"He will." Adelaide nods. "I can tell. He's going to be somebody, Annalise. Someday. And we'll be on his side when he does."
It's the kind of Slytherin thinking that Annalise has never been able to comprehend. Making deals and exchanging favours. But she trusts Adelaide's judgement, and she likes Tom well enough, so hopefully things will turn out well.
"But what are we doing for him?" Annalise can't help but ask.
"A few things," Adelaide answers evasively. "Nothing you need to worry about right now. But there is something I want you to help me with."
So Annalise listens, then promises to do her best, because that's all she has to offer.