A/N: Well it looks like we've had quite a week in the comment section! Thanks to everyone who has expressed kinder sentiments, it is much appreciated. Some of you have already been anticipating the events of this update. I've been tentatively planning this out for a while now, so I'll be interested to hear everyone's thoughts :)
Vvls: Thanks! Yeah, I have to admit that I'm caught up in the Reg/Viv feelings too despite this story being Sirius/Vivian!
june746: Hope you enjoy this update!
Toffeeloveryes: He is of course destined to fail ;)
Marnie Quiera: Sirius still has a lot of growing up to do. He will one day transform into the Sirius Black that we all know and love!
TVDobsession106: Lol don't worry, Sirius's new fling isn't going to last for very long. Vivian just needs a little push and I figured that this would be one way to do it
Wikked: I'm glad you like the pace and I agree that it usually leaves more room for realistic development. Since this story is going to be so long, I'm definitely taking my time with it, but it will all be worth it in the end!
Gigi: Thank you! Glad you're enjoying the story!
Guest1515: Hmm he might have some redeeming qualities. I'm not completely sure where his character arc will take him, but I'm tentatively planning for him to stick around well into the future. I don't think we learn a whole lot about him in canon, so I guess we'll have to see what happens as we go
laura-firewalker: Thanks! Also you have a point with Avery. I'm on the fence regarding what to do about the Quidditch plot. I have ideas but I haven't narrowed them down yet, so I guess we'll have to see!
Elmo: I admittedly got inspiration for that line from OUAT because it made me happy :)
Frenchie is French: I do love them, I have to admit ;)
Tora3: I don't think you're the only one. I love Reg/Viv so... Sirius/Vivian is of course endgame, but there will be more Regulus/Vivian in season 2.
gwenwesley: Ah...I'll just let you read the next chapter and find out haha. You pretty much figured it out, though I'm not entirely sure how Vivian will handle the stress that she is about to experience. I guess we'll find out
Anne J Black: Happy (belated) birthday! :)
xXxLalaxXx: Thank you!
a-reads: The Reg/Viv relationship is going to take a long time to develop into anything significant but I have far reaching plans for it! But true, Regulus represents Vivian's ideal match, if their paths weren't moving in different directions. Regulus will have his redemption though! That's what Season 2 will be focused on.
percabethanyznte: It won't last very long, don't worry! I think I can promise a jealous Sirius in the future. It's sort of inevitable at this point. I love your idea about him butting into Gavin/Vivian book club moments so much though...I need to make that happen asap ;)
Guest who seems to stress out about fanfics: Hopefully you've found another story by now!
Guest who reviewed directly after the guest who stresses out about fanfics: That was literally my first thought too tbh
Guest who left that wonderful review afterwards: Thanks so much for the support :) I don't understand people honestly. I guess I'm just so undramatic that I can't imagine wasting so much time/energy on leaving such a disparagingly drawn out review. I would've just stopped reading! Your review made me smile so thank you! Also shout out to people who've been reading fanfics on here since 2005! Granted it was more like 2007 for me but still ;)
ThePersonWithTheReallyLongName: Thanks! I appreciate the support. We are pretty much sticking to canon as far as the Black brothers go, but I'll be switching events/timelines around more liberally after Vivian and Sirius graduate Hogwarts in order to make everything fit as I'm envisioning it :) Anyway though, thank you for your kind review, it was very much welcomed by yours truly
hayatin: You'll see more of that version of Regulus in the future. He has a long way to go still in terms of character development but I pretty much know exactly what his trajectory will be. And I think Vivian does subconsciously value Sirius's attention lol. She needs a little push!
remifoster1313: Thank you :) I do like the idea of Slytherin winning the Cup, I just haven't decided completely yet...I have potential ideas for both options so I figure I'll wait until we get closer to plan out that plot!
slytherina.01: Thank you, I'm glad you liked the last chapter. And thank you for your kind words, I appreciate them! I am in full agreement with you! Constructive criticism is very helpful, but there's a difference between criticism for the sake of furthering someone vs the purpose of degradation. Oh well, not everyone will like what you put out there in the world I suppose!
As always, thanks to everyone who reviewed, I hope you all enjoy this chapter and have a lovely week, and I shall see you all next weekend!
Chapter Thirty Seven | Et passim
[And everywhere; scattered thought]
Saturdays are usually everyone's favorite day of the week, especially for the students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Homework can be put aside, duties placed on the backburner, and – most importantly – trips into Hogsmeade can be had. For the older students who have been granted the privilege of heading into the small village whenever they like on the weekends, Saturdays usually herald much excitement. The castle empties itself of students and professors alike. The halls are blissfully quiet by the time mid-afternoon comes around, and Vivian intends on enjoying the peace to the best of her ability. Lately, it seems that said peace has been eluding her entirely, so when she steps into the Slytherin common room on her way to the library, it is with the express desire to throw herself right into the silence that this Saturday afternoon brings.
Unfortunately, she is not the only one with plans.
"There you are," Avery drawls when he catches sight of her shutting the door that leads down to the girl's dormitories. He is sprawled out on the large couch in front of the fire, turned towards the door that Vivian had only just exited, as if he is keeping an eye out for her. He isn't alone. Lucius Malfoy is with him, draped over the chair that sits across from the couch with his legs and arms crossed. He looks imperious as his eyes dart over to her. Cold ice lays dormant within them, startlingly blue in the darkened corner of the dungeon room.
Pausing, Vivian raises an eyebrow at the pair. She's got one of her father's books tucked beneath her arm, thus far unread. By the time today is over, she's hoping to change that, but suddenly she suspects that such a goal may be too lofty to accomplish.
"…Here I am," she says, trailing off a bit as she sends a quizzical glance at them. There's hardly anyone else in the common room. Their housemates are clearly making use of their freedom.
Lucius stands up with his usual grace and drawls, "You're not dressed for the weather. Go and get your coat. Hurry up."
Vivian just stares at him with a dry expression. He looks annoyed when she ignores his order to instead ask, "What do you two want with me? I wasn't aware we had plans today."
Avery rolls his eyes at her. When he isn't barking orders at them or being a general piece of shit on the Quidditch pitch, he isn't that bad. Something in his countenance today, however, is drawn and taut. It is difficult to describe in any realistic way, because physically, he looks just the same as always. There is just some sort of shift in his aura; something that is altered just so from his usual nonchalance. It leaks into his eyes and into his voice when he grumbles, "Something came up. You were…requested."
Vivian doesn't bodily recoil, but she does jerk a bit upon hearing this. It doesn't take a genius to figure out what sort of people have 'requested' her, whatever that even means. It all makes sense, now. Avery's tense demeanor, Lucius's cold eyes…
"I was requested?" Vivian repeats sarcastically, trying to lessen the coiled sensation that is even now curling through her veins. The peace that she had felt only moments before drops away. She clutches her books with grasping fingers. It is the only indication of her wariness.
Lucius scoffs and mutters, "Personally, I don't think you have it in you, Blair, but I'm not the one who makes the orders. Now go get your coat. They're waiting."
Vivian considers arguing, but she knows on some intrinsic level that it wouldn't do her any good. Avery and Lucius look like they're about ready to drag her out of the castle regardless of her response, and she knows better than to cross whoever it is that has requested to speak to her. The waves of self-preservation thunder through her, but this time, she isn't sure what direction they are pulling her in. And so, in her directionless confusion, she wavers, and obeys.
Isn't this the life that is set for her? She doesn't think that Fate has any other plans. Her sight is too shuttered to see the forest for the trees. They crowd around her on all sides, whispering things that make her want to run to the edge of it. But she can't. She doesn't know how to. She's lost in the center of an unending wood and there is no path to show her the way out of it. She can only keep moving forward, in whatever direction, because at least it's better than standing still and doing nothing.
Even as she turns on her heel to retrieve her coat, though, it's like her body rebels against the simple action of pulling it over her shoulders. She drops her book onto her bed to instead pull the buttons through the wool. She stares at the cover of the book as she drapes her emerald and silver scarf around her neck. And then, in a moment of weakness, she reaches over to flip the cover open. A small scrap of parchment is folded within, and it is with shaking fingers that she reaches for it. But she doesn't unfold it, or reread the verses of it, or look for clues that might tell her who her mystery writer is. Now is not the time for sentimental actions or emotional pursuits.
She stares at the parchment, draws her finger over the edge of the folded square, and then clenches her jaw and snaps the book shut over it. No, now is not the time.
The verses still call out to her, though, as she heads back to the common room to rejoin Avery and Lucius. They whisper at her like Fate whispers its shuttered plans into her ear, elusive and incoherent.
'I wish you'd turn and set your sight
To my lost path
Before I fall,
Into this ocean's stormy night,
Once and for all
Once and for all.'
She wishes that, too.
"So where's Sophia? I figured you'd be hanging off of her all day," Prongs says as he kicks up some snow. The four Marauders are loitering outside of Honeydukes on this fine Saturday afternoon. Wormtail is trying to open some of the fudge he'd just purchase, and is having some difficulties with his thick woolen mittens, but his friends aren't concerned for him. They know he'll pull through this challenge as he always does, when confronted with such a monstrous injustice. No, it's Padfoot that they are concerned about.
Well, 'concerned' might be too strong a word, but still.
"I'm not sure I appreciate the assumption that I'd be hanging off of her, and not the other way around," Padfoot proclaims, stuffing his unclad hands into his pockets whilst regretting leaving his gloves back in his dorm. He says nothing more on the topic of Sophia Keene, AKA the latest fling, and descends into the very same brooding silence that has been lingering over him for the last week.
Moony, who is adjusting his red and gold scarf as he shivers against January's chill, sighs, "He's supposed to meet her at The Three Broomsticks for lunch," and then offers up a sarcastic smile when Padfoot wheels around to gape at him.
"How did you know that?" he wonders, then shakes his head and says, "Never mind, I don't care. In any case, it isn't lunchtime yet and therefore I've decided to sacrifice my new love life to hang around with you sorry lot."
Prongs puffs out a breath and dryly says, "Wow, we're so grateful, Padfoot. I don't think I could stand not being near you for a whole hour."
Moony snorts, "It sounds like a nightmare, really."
Wormtail nods, and happily takes a bite out of the fudge, which he has successfully opened against all odds.
Padfoot lets out a barking laugh at their sarcasm and throws his arm around Moony's shoulder. "An hour without my presence? Can you imagine it? You'd be beside yourself, Moony."
Moony rolls his eyes, but the amused smile that captures his mouth remains in place, and he doesn't try to throw Padfoot's arm off.
"Well we've practically bought half of Honeydukes. What shop shall we terrorize next?" Prongs wonders.
Moony just shrugs, and Wormtail has his mouth full, so Padfoot takes it upon himself to respond, "We haven't gone to Zonko's yet. We're running low on dungbombs after we rigged Filch's office last week – oh, and we need to buy more fireworks. The Fizzing Whizbees we got last time were all duds. I think we should complain – " Padfoot trails off here, turning towards the street and narrowing his eyes. In a distracted voice, he says, "…If we play our cards right, we could get a couple for free…"
Now, Padfoot happens to love pranks, which is of course how he has built up the reputation that he has, and everybody knows that when he has his mind set on such things, it is very difficult to change the topic to something else. In essence, he thinks about pranks in the same way that Prongs thinks about a particular red-head. That is, in an unavailing manner that is interrupted by only a few things. For Padfoot, one of those things happens to be walking down the road at this very moment, shivering against the cold despite the Slytherin scarf tucked around her neck and the expensive woolen coat wrapped around her body.
Distractions come in many forms. It comes in the form of Vivian Blair's cheeks, red and raw from winter's touch. It comes in the form of her downturned eyes as she skirts around the icy path. It comes in the form of the two students by her side.
"What're you looking at, Pad – oh," Prongs mutters when he sees the group of Slytherins heading down main street.
And just like that, the carefree atmosphere falters, and Sirius's brooding expression returns at full force. His stare seems to beckon to Vivian, for only moments after he first notices her, she lifts her head and notices him, too. The intensity of his eyes seems to startle her, and she looks away quickly – but not quickly enough. There is something in her eyes that vaguely resembles fear, and Padfoot sees it clear as day.
"Where are they going?" he murmurs, watching them pass by. He sees Theodore Avery glance over and send him a glower, apparently not appreciating their stares.
Moony frowns. "…No idea."
Prongs crosses his arms contemplatively and studies the back of Vivian's head as they walk down the street. In a musing voice, he says, "Blair doesn't usually hang around with Avery and Malfoy."
It's more of an offhanded comment than anything else. He doesn't intend for it to have any sort of consequences, or to spark action amongst them. It is merely a thoughtful remark that leaves his mouth in an introspective sort of manner, but it does have consequences. Maybe it wouldn't if his friends weren't so impulsive, but – well, their impetuousness had gotten them into Gryffindor to begin with, after all, and Padfoot is more impulsive than the rest of them put together.
"Do you have your cloak, Prongs?" he wonders, still staring at Vivian even though she has already passed them. There's a determined blaze to his eyes that would be impossible not to pick up on. Even Wormtail sees it, and has the foresight to tuck his packet of fudge away in case his friend drags them into one of his spontaneous schemes.
Prongs hesitates for half a second before sighing, "When do I not have my cloak?"
Moony dryly mutters, "You carry that thing around with you like it's your child."
Prongs just shrugs, unzipping his winter coat so as to pull the cloak out of one of its inner pockets, and replies, "Well seeing as I'm the leader of this ragtag band of Marauders, I must be prepared. You never know when a good prank will present itself."
At this, Padfoot pauses and looks away from Vivian to instead turn on his friend. This time, distraction comes in the form of an indignant, "When did we agree that you were the leader? Did we ever vote on that, Moony? Wormtail, you think I'm a better leader, right?"
Wormtail shrugs, "Sure, Padfoot, you're a great leader," in a voice too offhanded to be genuine. Padfoot huffs at him.
Prongs shakes his head. "You're not leader material, Padfoot, sorry," he says, though he doesn't sound very sorry at all when he pushes his glasses up and adds, "See, leaders don't randomly decide to follow a group of Slytherins who are clearly up to no good, on a whim, without a proper plan."
Padfoot doesn't seem to appreciate Prongs clucking at him like a judgmental mother hen and just reaches over to grab the Invisibility Cloak from his hands with a roll of his eyes.
"Please. You'd do the same thing if it was Lily," Padfoot mutters, distracted again as he turns back around to locate Vivian in the crowd. As such, he doesn't seem to realize what he has just inferred: that Vivian is to him what Lily is to Prongs. He's too busy scanning the crowd in search of long brunette hair to see the way his friends are looking at him.
"I'll meet you lot at Zonko's," Padfoot quickly says as he catches sight of the Slytherin scarf and the two towering sidekicks. With the cloak in his hand, he turns towards the nearest alleyway so that he isn't seen throwing on the cloak, and hurriedly calls, "Make sure you buy those dungbombs!" before darting off.
Prongs zips up his jacket with a huff. Moony shakes his head. Wormtail fishes out the fudge in petulant silence.
Honestly, it's always about Vivian Blair, even when it isn't.
Unlike most of the students at Hogwarts, Vivian can honestly say that she's never once had the urge to go inside the Shrieking Shack. It has nothing to do with the rumors of it being haunted, but rather a general displeasure at the mere thought of venturing into the dilapidated building, which always looks like it's seconds from falling down. She always rolls her eyes at the younger students who dare each other to touch the crumbling siding of it, and feels a morbid hilarity in watching them freak out at the slightest breeze that rattles the broken shutters and makes the framework creak. As she stands outside of it now, though, there is no such amusement coloring her mind.
The shack is removed from the rest of Hogsmeade, tucked just within the confines of a small wooded area that is technically the start of the Forbidden Forest, whose trees grow larger and closer beyond the village's reach. It is a bit of a walk from the shack to the town center, which apparently makes it an ideal place for a group of potential Death Eaters to meet.
"There's a door round the back," Avery grunts at her as she pauses to look up at the crumbling structure. He pushes past her to make his way around the side of the shack, waiting for her to follow. Ahead of them, Lucius is already disappearing around the corner, looking eager to step inside. Vivian can't say that she shares the feeling.
There's a moment, as she stands there without the two of them on either side of her, in which she seriously considers turning around and returning to Hogsmeade. It is only a passing thought, though. Defying one's destiny isn't so easily done, and while Vivian Blair is many things, she isn't stupid. She knows that there would be consequences to such an action. Consequences that she isn't yet ready to face. But, regardless, she does allow herself a second to look back. The world behind her is clear and white. The afternoon sun glistens on freshly fallen snow. The crystalized effect that it has is nearly blinding in its purity. When she turns back to the Shrieking Shack, the contrasting darkness is almost poetic.
Inside, the darkness takes another form. Several forms, actually.
"Vivian?" a voice murmurs when she steps into what appears to be a small kitchen. The voice immediately makes her freeze. She whirls around to face it, and though she already knows exactly who belongs to it, the person who is standing in the doorway of the tiny space makes the words falter in her throat.
"…Regulus," she somehow manages to say. Her eyes lock onto his, but wildfire doesn't stand a chance in melting iron, and she looks away quickly. "You shouldn't be here," she mutters, and makes no mention how she shouldn't be here, either. But Regulus does.
"Neither should you," he breathes, and moves to step towards her. He doesn't reach her side, though, because he is ultimately pushed out of the way before he can take more than one shaky step. Another body crowds into the small threshold that leads deeper into the rickety shack, and Vivian's mind takes a dizzying turn. Regulus's untimely presence and the memories of their last encounter fade away as Bellatrix Lestrange steps forward.
Her mouth curls upward into a pleased smile, but like all expressions that are cast upon the angular planes of her face, it looks harrowing and dour. Her dark eyes flash into Vivian's. She reaches out to clasp a hand over Regulus's shoulder, and whispers in her deceptively soft voice, "You are both exactly where you are meant to be. Come, we have much to discuss."
With that, Bellatrix shepherds her younger cousin into the next room. Regulus barely has time to glance over his shoulder at Vivian before he disappears into the dimly lit space awaiting him. Vivian doesn't follow until Bellatrix shoots her an expectant look, and then she somehow manages to unglue her feet from the floor and dart after him.
She immediately wishes she hadn't.
"Ah, the girl has arrived," a growl sounds from one of the darkened corners. In the abruptness of the moment, Vivian's eyes promptly clash with a pair that she recognizes. They are the first thing she sees as she steps into the room. It's a hungry gaze, possessive almost, and full of an inhuman pitch that resonates through her as if it is a drawn-out note in a never-ending symphony.
Fenrir Greyback. She had seen him prowling around her manor over the Christmas holidays, following the more important Death Eaters around like a kicked puppy. His leering grins had made her shudder. He would look at her as if she was his next meal, with a ravenous sort of eagerness that would make her heart beat wildly in her chest. The sight of it now prompts a similar reaction from her. Blood rushes through her ears and the harried beat of her heart fills her hearing – and, judging from the way Greyback's mouth tilts up with dark amusement, she instinctively knows that he hears the desperate beat of it, too.
This is not a kicked puppy now; this is a werewolf who could rip her to shreds where she stands, and if she isn't careful, perhaps Bellatrix would let him.
It's clear that Bellatrix has taken on the leadership position in this impromptu gathering. When she enters the room and stands beside Vivian, the other occupants of it immediately look to her and wait. Vivian takes advantage of the moment to look around as well, keeping her eyes as far away from Fenrir Greyback as she can.
They look to be in a small and very dismal living room. There are only a few scant pieces of furniture. One dust-laden couch has been shoved haphazardly against the far wall, and a little side table that has seen better days is lying on its side near the only window in the room. There is dirt and grime on every surface and cobwebs in every corner. Looking at it now, Vivian understands why everyone thinks it's haunted, but there are no ghosts breathing into the spaces between its current occupants. No, the Shrieking Shack has a different set of demons haunting its rooms.
Said demons are people that she knows well enough to recognize on sight. Besides Bellatrix and Greyback, she sees Rabastan Lestrange leaning against the far wall. His brother is notably absent. Perhaps he is too high and mighty to deal with a group of school kids. Regulus, Lucius, and Avery are gathered around the room, as well as Mulciber and Rosier. Severus Snape is lurking beside them, and doesn't seem very impressed that she is there. When Adrian sees her, though, he straightens out his shoulders and sends her a prideful smile, as if he's pleased that she has come.
"Now that we've all arrived, we can begin," Bellatrix murmurs, and sets her hand down upon Vivian's shoulder. The action makes her stiffen slightly. She battles back the urge to move away, and is thankful that Bellatrix doesn't seem to notice.
"Begin what, exactly? You still haven't told us why you wanted the girl," Greyback grumbles from the darkened corner in which he's inhabiting. His voice is low and gravelly, pitched into something that resembles a growl. He eyes Vivian, looking disparaging and, at the same time, slightly fascinated.
Bellatrix curls her lip at him and haughtily responds, "I'm not the one who wants her. The Dark Lord specifically requested for her presence here."
Apparently, this is news to everyone but Rabastan, who merely blinks at Vivian in an idle sort of manner as he tilts his head against the wall he's leaning against. Memories of Diagon Alley briefly parade through her mind, heightened into existence from the shimmer of his gaze as he leisurely takes her in.
For a moment, all Vivian can think about is the scent of firewhiskey and the pandemonium of that night – until Greyback lets out a growling chuckle and sneers, "Why would he want her? I can practically taste the fear on her. She's all but drowning in it."
At this, Vivian shoots Greyback a cold look, trying to recall the exact expression her father cultivates whenever he feels that he has been unjustly offended. Haughty, arrogant, and full of condescending – the likes of which is usually enough to make most people pause and reconsider their actions. Unfortunately, though, Vivian Blair has not yet perfected such an expression, and her efforts only seem to amuse Greyback. When he scoffs humorously and raises an eyebrow at her, she feels as though she is playing a game meant for older, wiser adults, and that she is merely a child trying to fill the shoes of her father.
In hopes of rectifying this, she scathingly responds, "Your opinion hardly matters, half-breed," in a voice that better reflects her father's ideals of superiority. It must work, because Greyback's amusement immediately fades into perturbance upon the insult, and Bellatrix lets out a simpering laugh at Greyback's expense.
"Quite so, love, quite so," Bellatrix croons at Vivian, her mouth twisted into a dark smirk.
Greyback growls from his corner, but says nothing, and merely eyes Vivian with a certain bitter vengeance that is no doubt due to being heralded by the very same slur in which he has become very familiar with since becoming a werewolf. Purebloods especially love to throw it around whenever they feel the need to put people like him in his place. He is quite used to the way these things work by now. He's been running in this particular circle for some time, after all, and though the Dark Lord's faithful have expressed their interest in recruiting all manner of dark creatures into their cause, they've made it clear that his people are, indeed, lesser beings, and that they are above him in every way.
"We don't have much time," Bellatrix says. "The Dark Lord has heard about your talents with charmwork, Vivian. He has given you a task, and if you are able to complete it, he has agreed to officially recruit you into our ranks. I'm sure I don't need to tell you that this is an honor of the highest caliber."
An acrid taste fills Vivian's mouth. Her blood, which has been pumping through her veins too quickly, before, now seems to drain away at once. It isn't a dramatic sort of feeling, where the room spins and the she feels like she is seconds away from reeling. No, it is subtler than that. The quiet dread that fills her does so slowly, but potently.
"…Charmwork?" she asks. Her voice doesn't wobble, thank Merlin. She sounds stronger than she feels.
Bellatrix flashes her a smug smile. "You father likes to brag about you. Didn't you know?" The smile turns into a smirk and she adds, "It is the hope of our Lord to recruit as many loyal followers as he can while time still remains, but in order to join Him, you have to prove yourself."
As she speaks, Bellatrix's voice slowly descends into a whisper. She reaches up to twist a strand of Vivian's hair behind her ear and murmurs, "Your performance in Diagon Alley left much to be desired, love. I hope you take advantage of your second chance."
Second chance. Vivian swallows tightly and can't help but glance over at Regulus, who is staring at her with a tense jaw. The tension in his face is the only indication of his reaction to the turn this conversation has taken. The rest of his face is unreadable; a blank canvas waiting to be painted over. She doesn't look at him for more than a moment before her eyes clash with another's.
Adrian is smirking at her, but it isn't the sort of smug look that usually graces his expression. No, now the smirk looks proud, as if he's satisfied with the turn of events and couldn't be happier with them. This, more than anything else – more than Fenrir Greyback's glowering stance, more than Bellatrix's crooning eyes – is what makes Vivian's resolve come into focus.
"Greyback is right," she forces out, though it pains her to say the words in front of the werewolf, whose amused expression returns to his face upon hearing them. "I wouldn't make a good recruit. I'm not a fighter."
Oh, those words will be proven wrong one day, but in this particular moment, Vivian Blair believes them. Of course, she doesn't fully know if they are true or not, because she has never actually fought before, for anything that has ever mattered.
Greyback smirks wolfishly at her and murmurs, "Backing out already? Your father won't be very pleased, the way he goes on about you. I guess you won't be continuing the family legacy after all."
Vivian glares at him, but she thankfully doesn't have time to snap out a response before Rabastan drawls, "Don't you want to hear what your task is, Blair? If you ask me, the Dark Lord has made it easy for you."
Bellatrix snorts in what sounds like agreement, and murmurs, "Refusing would be unwise, love. I know you're smarter than that."
She opens her mouth to say more, but before she can, Regulus stiffly inputs, "I'm to be given a task as well. What does the Dark Lord want me to do?"
Vivian shoots him a look, but Regulus is staring at his cousin, and doesn't grace her with another glance. He squares his shoulders and awaits his judgement, only for Bellatrix to shake her head at him and say, "Patience, Regulus. Your time has not yet come. Today we are here for Vivian. Adrian?"
Adrian looks up at the sound of his name. It must be some sort of prompt, for he seems to be expecting it. He steps forward to hand Vivian a book she had not noticed before that moment. As it passes from his hands to Vivian's, he tells her, "Your father sent this."
The explanation is too brief for Vivian to make sense of. Confused, she looks down at the title. It certainly looks to be of her father's collection, but she doesn't know why he would feel the need to send it to her.
'Raising the Dead,' is etched into the leather-bound cover in gold ink. There is no other indication of what the book is about or why it pertains to her, but it doesn't take very long for it to fall into place.
"Inferi," Rabastan says, studying Vivian's expression closely. She lifts her head to stare at him, and he gives her an almost lazy look in return. He shrugs, "The Dark Lord has recently become interested in them, but he seems to think that the Inferi he has created thus far don't…live up to his expectations, shall we say?" He smirks, clearly enjoying the sight of Vivian's confusion.
She raises an eyebrow and presses down the dread that keeps trying to lift into her veins. "I don't understand."
Rabastan, naturally, doesn't look very surprised by this. He glances over at Bellatrix, who rolls her eyes and impatiently says, "Your task is to create a spell that will make them more powerful. Give them more autonomy."
Vivian turns to Bellatrix and, still confused, murmurs, "But the whole point of creating Inferi is so that they obey your orders. Why would he want them to act on their own?"
Bellatrix's impatience seems to be growing, because it colors her voice when she responds, "He doesn't want them to act on their own free will. He wants them to be more powerful, so that they can fulfill his orders more efficiently. Do you have any other questions, while we're here catering to you?"
Vivian snaps her mouth shut and tries to clear her face of the annoyance she feels at Bellatrix's attitude. She spends a moment wrangling it down, knowing that it won't help her win Bellatrix's favor, before saying, "So this task is merely to create a spell that will make his Inferi more competent?" Her voice is, admittedly, a bit sarcastic. It's rather difficult to wrangle that down.
Bellatrix narrows her eyes at her and scorns, "If it was an easy thing to do, don't you think he would have already done it by now?"
Vivian can't help but return, "If it's so important to him, why is he putting me in charge of it?"
It's Rabastan who answers her this time, and his response is a shrugging, "What could he possibly lose by doing so?"
At this, Vivian frowns at him, but she can't exactly argue with his point. After all, what would the Dark Lord have to lose? She is nothing to him; a simple teenager just barely on the cusp of adulthood. If she succeeds, then he wins. If she fails…
Well, Vivian doesn't really want to think about what might happen should she fail. She has never actually seen the Dark Lord before, but the stories she's heard of him make the dread in her veins drift up to the surface of her skin, and she forcefully holds a shiver back lest it overtake her.
"Do you accept?" Bellatrix murmurs, stepping closer to her. Her presence by Vivian's side is a vice that twists around her and threatens to pull her down beneath the layers of her own uncertainty.
Bellatrix leans in, ever closer, to whisper, "Do you agree to obey the Dark Lord's orders?"
And suddenly, all Vivian can think of isn't what Voldemort has to lose by giving said orders to her, but rather what she has to lose. If she succeeds, then she is practically signing her soul away. She can't just refuse to become a Death Eater should the invitation be extended to her. She can't simply tell one of the fiercest Dark wizards in history that she doesn't want to follow him. But if she fails, what then? What would the repercussions be for her own incompetence? What punishment would he give her, for failing to enact his wishes? And, beyond these two potential ends, she cannot simply refuse to carry out those wishes, because that would be synonymous with refusing the Dark Lord entirely.
"Well?" Bellatrix demands, raising an eyebrow at her. Vivian's continued silence doesn't seem to impress her very much, which is precisely the core of their differences. Bellatrix would go to hell and back if it would make her master happy, but Vivian…
Self-preservation. Right.
"I accept," she forces herself to say, and then promptly clears her throat, because her voice breaks just a little bit when she does. That little sound of weakness makes Greyback smirk widely, and Rabastan raise his eyebrows dubiously at her, and Bellatrix scoff beneath her breath as she pulls away.
They see right through her, she realizes. Apparently, she has much to learn in the way of keeping her emotions to herself.
Bellatrix, in a perfectly drawling tone, murmurs, "Then you know what you must do. Adrian will escort you back to the castle, I'm sure. We have other matters to discuss while there is still time."
And, as Adrian steps forward to take Vivian's arm and guide her back through the dismal kitchen and out of the door, Vivian's eyes flash into an iron gaze, which is carefully shuttered and blank as it stares back into hers. She only has time to see Bellatrix beckon Regulus to her side before the door of the Shrieking Shack closes upon the scene, but the slight undercurrent of eagerness within his eyes is impossible to miss. He wants to be there. He wants to join Him. It doesn't matter what he had said to her in the Malfoy's gardens, about not having a choice at this point. It doesn't matter because he doesn't truly want a choice.
Her head is spinning, so she doesn't even notice that Mulciber has pulled her to a stop a short ways off from the shack. She doesn't notice anything at all until he breaks the silence with a pleased, "I'm proud of you, Vivian. You're making the right choice. I'm sure you'll be able to complete this task in no time at all. Your father says you're quite talented."
The words draw Vivian back to the present. Finally, she notices that Mulciber is leaning over her with that proud look blazing over his face, and that he's just given her the first compliment that, to her knowledge, has ever left his mouth.
Quite talented.
You'll complete this task in no time.
She jerks away from him with a tight expression and says, "Yes. Well. I should go read this." Her hold on the book that her father had sent is desperate and clawing. She uses it as a crutch; a means of escape.
Adrian, for once, doesn't seem bothered by it. He just shrugs and says, "Best get a head start. I'm sure I'll see you in the common room later. We can speak more about this then."
She doesn't respond.
"We should also talk about the ceremony, too," he adds, in an almost offhanded manner, as if the thought had come rather suddenly to him, in an equally offhanded way.
Vivian feels the dread rise to the surface once more. In a choked voice, she repeats, "…Ceremony?"
Her mind immediately fills with images of her receiving the very same Mark that she knows lingers just beneath Adrian's shirt sleeve. Does such a thing require a ceremony? Does the Dark Lord make such an ordeal about welcoming new followers into his circle?
But – Adrian just raises an eyebrow at her pale face and, sounding confused, says, "Yeah, the wedding. We only have a few months to plan it. Honestly, Blair, get your head on straight. I'll see you later." And with that, he turns on his heel and strides back to the Shrieking Shack, leaving Vivian feeling even worse.
The wedding ceremony. Her wedding ceremony.
Merlin, she can't even consider it right now. It's just too much. She feels as if her mind is going in every direction at once, unsettled and hazardous, swept up into a storm with no hint of blue skies for miles.
Vivian tucks her father's book beneath her arm and inhales deeply. It is a shaky sound, tremulous and faltering.
She turns back down the trail that will take her into Hogsmeade, feeling as if her world has shrunk down into a cage, and doesn't notice that she is not as alone as she thinks. She is so swept up in her own thoughts that she doesn't notice anything at all –
Not the shimmer of the air in her peripheral vision, nor the footprints in the snow nearby. The presence of someone whose soul will, one day, be as familiar to her as her own is entirely overlooked.
For now, Vivian Blair sees only what she what is immediately ahead of her, and nothing else.
Sirius usually knows better than to stand a girl up when they have plans. Contrary to his reputation, he does in fact have some amount of curtesy in that particular realm. Call it a byproduct of his strict upbringing, or perhaps just the experience of seeing a woman scorned enough times to know better. In any case, he wouldn't claim to be the most respectful person on the planet where it concerns the opposite sex, but he has been imparted with enough common sense to realize that abandoning a meeting with his date, without properly informing said date, is a bad idea. The thing is, though, that he isn't really thinking about Sophia Keene or the fact that she's probably wondering where he is. His mind is on other matters, and the girl that he's been seeing on and off for a few short days isn't on the top of his priority list.
The brooding feeling that he has been battling with for the last week returns at full force as he makes his way back to the castle. The Invisibility Cloak is still swept over his shoulders. He almost forgets that he's wearing it at all as he ducks through the courtyard and into the familiar corridors of Hogwarts. Vivian has long since disappeared by the time he reaches the large doors that lead into the Great Hall, but he isn't looking for her at this point. He isn't looking for anyone.
He needs to think, and he needs to do it on his own time, without his friends or anyone else distracting him. He needs time to consider what he has just learned.
In truth, he hadn't been able to get close enough to the shack to hear the conversation being had within it. If he had known in advance that the Slytherins would be occupying the run-down building, he might have been able to plan out his act of espionage better. He knows the Shrieking Shack like the back of his hand, as well as the secret tunnel that leads to it, and could have easily eavesdropped on whatever was being discussed had he possessed the foresight to do so. But, given the circumstances, the only real information he has received from said espionage had been what Mulciber had said to Vivian after it was all over and done with.
A task.
And marriage.
With a deep frown, Sirius makes his way up to the astronomy tower. His body pulls him there almost without thought. Before he even knows where he's going, he's stepping out onto the large dais that overlooks the school grounds, and moves to one of the windy parapets to look down at the expanse of the Black Lake. The cloak ripples over him with the cold breeze, so he tugs it off and stuffs it into his jacket for safekeeping, revealing himself to a world that doesn't take notice of him, for there is no one around to give his presence here much thought.
His mind drifts back to Christmas Eve. There are many questions that had come up that night, and many of them are yet unanswered. Now, it seems that there are even more, and there is only one way to solve that conundrum.
The real question is how Vivian Blair will react to the solution that he has in mind.