A/N: In which a thunderbolt strikes.
june746: She still has a ways to go in terms of her own character development, but she'll discover who she really is soon enough. She won't always give into her own fears like she's doing now. I'm excited to write the future version of her that I'm envisioning!
DarkLordofMemes: Nope - but you'll find out more in this chapter
Wikked: Thank you! :)
CuoreSpezzato: I know the feeling! This time of the year is always so hectic for me. I'm glad you're on board with Vivian's actions. I feel like it's more realistic of her at this point in her development. As for Sirius's assistance, this chapter will go into that a bit more. True though, he can't really help save her from the task as easily as he could help her with the marriage issue. I don't want to spoil my plans for Season 2 by going into too much detail, but in order to make everything work out as I'm intending, Vivian will have to handle her task on her own. I'm still ironing it all out though!
gwenwesley: It really is! Of course, this chapter is going to take that admission up a notch (I shall let you read onward though). I'm not sure yet how Vivian will deal with everything moving forward. She obviously has a lot on her shoulders now. She probably will begin to pull away from Regulus soon, though, as they're moving in different directions.
Guest: I'll keep that in mind!
Marnie Quiera: Good ideas. I don't want to make her experience be too similar to Draco's, but there's going to be obvious parallels considering both of their situations. I still have to figure out how Vivian will handle the task and expectations being put on her but it would make sense for her to buckle under the pressure of it all, at some point at least. We'll see!
Crysanthemum: Thanks! It's understandable, especially since you can't binge-read from beginning to end since I'm still posting it. I'm glad you're still reading though!
hayatin: She is getting there...slowly but surely haha. I'll probably make Vivian suffer a bit, trying to figure the task out/handle her social position/etc. but I have a general idea of how it will be resolved. Sort of. This is definitely a different story for me in that I'm taking it chapter by chapter at the moment, so it's all a bit up in the air right now!
Toffeeloveryes: It will take her a while still to break away. My plot idea for Season 2 hinges around this aspect of the story, so I can't make it too easy for her! As for Gavin/Vivi...I do kind of want to write a oneshot for them tbh. Also those poems and quote are beautiful, thanks for including them. They really do fit perfectly with Vivian and Sirius's relationship. Really beautiful :)
percabethanyzane: Lol...I don't know if your review subconsciously influenced me but. Please read on.
nosserate: They're both too stubborn to make things easy but it will all be resolved eventually...it'll just probably take a while because that seems to be the way of it with this story haha
slytherina.01: It is about time! I'm sure you'll like this chapter for that reason ;)
Guest1515: They will start to drift away...not sure about whether Regulus will help her with the spell or not though. I'm thinking that Vivian will probably prefer to figure it out on her own but maybe that will change. You never know with this story!
Guest: Thanks so much for your review, it made me smile! And you caught onto the 'Vivi' comment! You're the only reviewer who mentioned it haha. I am admittedly warming up to the idea of having that be Sirius's nickname for her later on. So glad you've enjoyed the last two chapters. This story has turned into something so much bigger than I initially expected, so I'm happy that everyone seems to like it. Thank you for your kind words, they are a wonderful source of inspiration :)
laura-firewalker: Thank you! Her self-preservation is definitely one of her main traits it seems. I'm thinking that it will probably be a major part of her character well into the future. As for Sirius's method of assistance, this chapter should shed some light on his thoughts
remifoster1313: This chapter will answer a few of your theories on Vivicendium! I'm still trying to decide whether or not Vivian should receive a Dark Mark. On the one hand, it would make the future seasons of the story much more dramatic, but then it would also make things complicated in the near future after they graduate Hogwarts. I have a very specific timeline that I'm going to be working with after graduation, so it all depends on whether I think it will fit or not. It would definitely be an interesting point of conflict though!
I did plan this chapter out, but once again Sirius stormed his way into said plans and changed everything around, so. There is a specific moment in this chapter that I did not expect, but I'm pretty sure you'll all enjoy the surprise :) That said, if I don't update again before Christmas (I might try to, if I have time), then I hope everyone has a very merry Christmas!
Chapter Thirty Eight | Primum cognitum
[The first thing known]
"So you do realize that Sophia is pretty pissed off, right?" Marlene McKinnon drawls as she throws herself onto the couch in the Gryffindor common room beside Sirius's sprawled figure. The fire crackles merrily in the hearth, warming the occupants of the room as it quietly blazes away. One of those occupants happens to still be in his brooding mood, because Sirius doesn't even turn to glance at Marlene as she makes herself comfortable next to him. She pulls out one of her trashy romance novels and flips to the page where she'd left off as she leans into the cushions.
Sirius scoffs and mutters, "I'm sure she'll get over it."
Across the way, Remus raises his eyebrows a notch as he arranges the chess pieces across the board that James had pulled out, but he refrains from saying anything. As for James, who is sitting across from Remus at the short coffee table, well…
"You can't just ditch a girl and expect her to be okay with it, Sirius," he says, only half paying attention to his brooding friend. Peter, who is only too happy to not be playing wizard's chess, nods in agreement, apparently feeling more inclined to take James's side this time. His loyalty is constantly changing between James and Sirius, so this isn't necessarily surprising.
Sirius doesn't seem like he cares overmuch and just shrugs, not looking away from the fire, which he's broodingly staring into. Unfortunately, though, his silent attempt at deflection doesn't do him much good.
"Sophia isn't the type to let you get away with this. She's too stubborn for that," Marlene adds breezily, not looking as if she's expecting a response from her brooding ex-boyfriend, or whatever Sirius is to her (honestly, neither of them are quite sure). She doesn't look very concerned that Sirius's attention is elsewhere, which is probably because she isn't very concerned. Marlene and Sirius have always had an understanding and they don't typically let their lives intersect too emotionally.
"I don't really care, Marl," Sirius mutters, and tilts his head back. He closes his eyes, appearing for all the world as though he is eternally indifferent to everything occurring around him, and falls silent again.
Marlene turns to study his profile and raises a pointed eyebrow at him. He really doesn't look like he cares all that much, which is altogether very characteristic of him. Marlene knows Sirius fairly well, though, and she has a funny feeling that there's more going on in his head than he is outwardly showing.
"No?" she wonders, eyebrows raising further when she sees the person who is now entering the common room. "Well you might want to have a good excuse ready, because someone else does care."
At this, Sirius opens his eyes and tips his head to the side to send Marlene a confused look. His confusion promptly vanishes when he hears the telltale sound of an angry female storming towards him. Admittedly, it's a sound that he happens to know very well, and is therefore well-equipped to handle the consequences of it.
"Black! I waited for you in The Three Broomsticks for an hour and you never showed," Sophia's voice screeches from behind him. The usual dulcet tones of it are now skewed in her anger, and vaguely remind him of nails on a chalkboard.
He cringes, then expertly dodges to the right – just in time to avoid Sophia's fist as it slams down where his head at just been.
"Sorry, Keene. Let's reschedule, yeah?" Sirius drawls, unfazed by the attack. He's probably the only person in the room who is acting as if this is a normal occurrence. Well – the other Marauders hardly bother glancing up, and Marlene just idly flips the page of her book but – the rest of the common room turns to stare at the confrontation with wide eyes.
Sophia glares at him and seethes, "You can't reschedule after you ditched me, that's not how it works! You know what, I don't know why everyone thinks you're so great, Black. You're not even a good kisser."
Sirius just shrugs. "So we're not rescheduling then?" he wonders, and dodges again to avoid Sophia's hand coming down on the back of the couch – an attempt at digging into his shoulder with her long nails, no doubt.
"No we are not rescheduling," she grinds out. "You've officially lost your chance with me. Don't bother groveling for another date because it's never going to happen."
Sirius hums and mutters, "I won't," in an altogether offhand voice, clearly not caring all that much and unafraid of making it known. As for Sophia, she's apparently had enough of Sirius because she lets out an annoyed sound that seems like it's a cross between a shriek and a huff and then storms off to the girl's dormitories, cursing his name with every step.
The moment she's gone, Sirius shrugs, "Dunno why you were so worried, Marl. That wasn't a big deal at all."
Marlene rolls her eyes and mutters, "That's only because you've had too much experience dealing with angry girls, Sirius – which you really shouldn't be proud of."
He's about to respond when James snorts and cuts in, "You need to learn how to be loyal to one bird at a time, mate. Take Lily and I as an example. She's been my girl for years now – "
"I'm not your girl, Potter," Lily growls as she passes them, on her way to one of the chairs in the corner of the room, arms laden with books and parchment.
James sends her a mooning stare as she goes, until Remus sends his knight to destroy James's bishop. The resulting smash brings his attention back to the matter at hand and he sighs, "Right. Lily's been my dream girl for years now. You don't see me dating other people in some stupid attempt to make her jealous, do you?"
Sirius pauses, darts his eyes over to James's, and slowly responds, "…I'm not trying to make anyone jealous."
James raises his eyebrows at him. Peter purses his lips. Remus doesn't lift his eyes away from the chessboard as he drawls, "Where'd you end up going, anyway? You said you were going to meet us at Zonko's and you never did."
Sirius, pausing again, turns to look back at the fire and clears his throat. "Just ended up losing track of time is all." This time, his deflecting works marginally better, because his friends are now watching as James's queen cuts the head off of Remus's knight, and James's resulting 'whoop' of victory is distracting enough for Sirius's hesitant words to go unnoticed.
He doesn't really want to tell any of his friends what he had learned. He's not sure why, exactly – he tells them everything – but it seems that topics relating to Vivian Blair go somewhat against the grain. There's just something about her that he doesn't want to gossip about; something delicate trapped between the lines of her person that he wants to keep to himself. Every layer that he uncovers is something to be protected and kept silent.
He doesn't know why, not quite yet, but he does know that he needs to do something about it. If nothing else, he needs to try to understand it all better, or else he feels as if he'll go out of his mind.
There is no one on the Quidditch pitch. It's mid-January, and the ground is covered by several inches of what used to be fluffy snow. Now the snow is heavy from the freezing rain that had pelted down from the skies the night before, and the paths around the grounds of Hogwarts are icy and unpleasant to traverse. It's a bit treacherous and, coupled with the biting wind, the majority of students have rightfully decided to stay indoors today…which is the precise reason why Vivian Blair has decided not to. It's peaceful out here if one knows how to properly protect oneself from the chill. A heating spell does wonders at keeping the cold at bay, and while it is a bit of work to keep it going, it's better than sitting around the common room.
Honestly, she never thought she'd resort to avoiding her own quarters just because she might run into Adrian Mulciber. It's pathetic.
Her father's latest book is resting on the bench beside her, bookmarked to where she had left off. She's only gotten to the fifth chapter. Creating Inferi and learning how to manipulate them to your will isn't exactly a pleasant topic to be perused over a cup of tea, and after the nightmare she had some nights before, she figured that it would be in her best interest to take a break from it entirely. Still, she brings it everywhere she goes – partly because she's hoping that she'll feel inclined to continue reading it and partly because she doesn't want to leave it around her dorm room, just in case one of her friends remarks upon it. She doesn't want to have to explain herself. She doesn't know how she would anyway.
Oh, yeah, it's just a bit of light reading to prepare me for coming up with a theoretical enchantment that may or may not be useful to the Dark Lord.
Vivian makes a disparaging scoff beneath her breath and leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees as she stares broodingly across the pitch. She's sitting in the Slytherin section, naturally, and directly across from her is the crimson and gold banners of Gryffindor, where the brave of heart supposedly resides. She has to battle down another scoff at the thought.
The crimson banners get caught on a hard breeze, and she stares at them as they beat against the wind. After a moment of staring, she turns her eyes to her hands, twisting them together almost idly, even though there is really nothing idle about her. Inside, she's not nearly as calm as she outwardly appears.
She doesn't know what had prompted her father to brag about her to begin with. Well – actually she does know, because she can easily see him snidely edging into a conversation being had about one of his acquaintance's children, and making it all about him and how his own child is better. It's ironic because he's never once encouraged her imagination when it comes to that particular outlet. In fact, most of the time, he aligns himself with her mother's view of her experiments being 'an unfit hobby for a lady of your caliber to partake in'. Half of her creations are unfinished and untested, mainly flyaway thoughts jotted down on spare bits of parchment. Only a handful of them are even useful, and –
She pauses as a thought drifts through her mind, and glances down at the bookbag that she had dragged to the pitch with her. She had only just escaped her last class of the day before darting outside, and so many of her textbooks are with her – and odd bits of parchment, as well.
It is with an almost fervent intensity that Vivian grabs her bag and begins to riffle through it, shoving books and spare quills out of the way until at last she finds what she's looking for. It's wrinkled and smudged from having found itself at the bottom of her bag, torn in a few places with crinkled corners, but thankfully legible. When she looks down at the scribbles that had been jotted down months ago, she feels a shard of relief sweep through her.
Maybe it's a stretch – after all, experimental magic is unstable at best – but there is one spell that may be able to help her. At the very least, perhaps her unfinished idea will send her in the right direction. She scans the parchment, turns it over, searches until she finds –
Viverati
Vivicendi
Viveramus
Each attempt is crossed out, not because of an actual failure but rather because the basis of the spell hadn't been clear enough. Her goal hadn't been properly defined. In short, she hadn't known exactly what she was trying to accomplish, because she was just playing around with potential ideas.
She doesn't have that luxury now, though.
Several Latin suffixes are scrawled below the failed idea, initially written down as further additions to consider; ways to make the verbal aspect of the spell stronger and more focused.
Cendi, dium, dius, dia
She stares at them now, filing through her knowledge of Latin as she recalls her original purpose for coming up with this spell to begin with.
Vivere is life. It is the invigorating pull of adrenaline that rushes through you just when you think you've reached your limit. It is the second wind of power that cascades into your veins like a sweeping storm rolling into your peripheral vision; a gathering influx of strength that overwhelms all hint of weakness. The purpose of the spell had been just the same: to exploit the body's natural fight-or-flight reflexes and to enable it to push forward against all odds. There hadn't been any particular reason for creating such an enchantment. At the time, it had been one of those ideas, randomly conceived, that she had worked on for a while before growing bored with it.
But – if vivere is life, then perhaps it holds the answer.
Her mind races through the possibilities. There are so many of them – wand movements and suffixes and pronunciations – and she finds herself thinking that maybe this won't be so hard after all. Maybe she can figure this out without repercussion. If she does it quickly, then maybe the Dark Lord will be satisfied enough and won't require any further loyalty from her.
Blindly, Vivian leans down into her bag to find a quill…and when she glances up, she finds something entirely different.
Sirius Black raises an eyebrow at her from where he's standing, leaning against the railing of the Slytherin section only a few scant feet away. His expression is curiously inquisitive as he watches Vivian jerk back in surprise. When the action ends up making the scrap of parchment flutter off of her lap, he leans forward to catch it before it falls between the cracks of the benches, takes a short glance at it, and wonders, "What's this?" Then, upon a closer examination if it, he tilts his head and smirks, "Oh – that's the spell that made you spout compliments to everyone you came across, right? I'll be honest, Godric, I think that might've been the best day of my life."
Vivian is so surprised to see him there that when she snaps, "Give that back," it isn't nearly as aggressive as she means for it to be.
Sirius sends her a crooked grin. "If you want it so badly, come and get it, Blair."
She narrows her eyes at him. This time, when she snaps at him, it's a little too aggressive. "Stop being a fucking child." She opens her hand demandingly and he puffs out his cheeks.
"What's got your knickers all twisted up, anyway?" he grumbles (to her annoyance), but hands over the parchment anyway. He isn't here to make her angry, after all. His goal requires the complete opposite, actually.
Vivian doesn't grace his question with a response. Instead, she just pulls her retrieved parchment back into her lap and returns to searching for a quill, thoroughly ignoring his existence in the way she knows annoys him more than anything. This time, though, he doesn't seem overly perturbed by her tactic, and is seemingly content to rest his chin against the back of his hands and do very little but stare at her. Broodingly.
There's no one in the world who can pull off the brooding stare better than Sirius Black, and after only a few moments of being on the receiving end of it, Vivian decides that it's already too much.
"What do you want?" she growls out, spearing him with a glare. It isn't quite as brooding as Sirius's, but the Slytherin in her ensures that it's enough to rival it, at least.
They stare at each other for a long moment, until Sirius releases a breath and ducks under the railing of the stands. Vivian's glare turns slightly conflicted as he clamors onto the seat beside her, kicking his legs out and looking for all the world as if the act of willingly sitting next to his self-proclaimed nemesis is as normal as the January snow that covers the ground. It isn't, of course, but something inside of her doesn't have it in her to call him out on it, and Vivian just waits in puckered silence for him to explain himself.
He doesn't immediately, but to be fair, she's not very surprised by his circular methods. When he casts a glance over at the book that's claiming the bench to Vivian's right, he just idly wonders, "More light reading, Godric? Doesn't look like one of your fake dictionaries."
Vivian stiffens and promptly leans forward to shove her father's book into her bag and away from his prying eyes, but Sirius is a touch faster. He reaches out to grab her wrist at the last moment, twisting it slightly so as to read the title of the book. Vivian, now quite annoyed, wrangles his hand off of her and snarls, "Why do you care what I'm reading?"
Sirius, though, hardly seems to hear the snarling inquiry, and just watches as she deposits the book out of sight. There's something thoughtful in his expression that she doesn't like, so she decides that it would be best to remove herself from the situation entirely and goes to get up. The peace and quiet that she had been searching for is obviously impossible to obtain when Sirius Black is around.
When she stands, Sirius sighs, "Blair, wait." And when she ignores him, he stands up too and murmurs, "Vivian."
The sound of her first name isn't what makes her halt in her tracks. Rather, it's the way he says it. Careful. Tentative. Vivian turns to face him, one hand on the railing and the other clenched around the strap of her bookbag, and looks at him. His expression perfectly reflects the careful tentativeness of his voice.
Sirius opens his mouth to speak, and thinks better of it, and closes it again. He repeats this process several times before Vivian grows impatient and scoffs beneath her breath. She pulls her bag over her shoulder and makes to exit the stands, but just as she's turning around, Sirius seems to have finally found his words.
"You said you didn't want to join them," he blurts out, much to her surprise. She's so surprised, in fact, that Vivian immediately stops again. Her back is turned to him so he can't see her face. Maybe that's why he steps forward and reaches out to lay his hand beside hers on the railing, shuffling close enough so that, when he next speaks, his voice is the only thing she can hear.
"On Christmas Eve, you said you didn't want any part of it," he murmurs. His eyes dart over her tense shoulders and the arch of her neck. All the delicate lines and graceful arches of her figure remind him of that night with startling clarity. He feels, suddenly, as if he is standing in the doorway of the Potters' kitchen once more, studying shaking shoulders and reddened skin and wondering at the strange and desperate way his stomach had sunk down so low; low like the pitch of an ocean a hundred miles from the sky.
A soft, feminine vanilla scent sends tendrils towards him and he clenches his fingers down tight around the railing, centimeters from her own.
Mussed hair and red-rimmed eyes - oh, he remembers it all – shaking hands, taut muscles. The attempt at sarcasm when she had made fun of his bedroom décor, but had ultimately failed because he could hear the tremor in her voice even then. He could see through the veil. He could see more of Vivian Blair in that moment than he ever had before, in all the years he had known her; in all the seconds that had forged themselves between them; for good or for bad, through insults and injuries, slipped inside of backhanded compliments shrouded in derision. Yes, that was her – the real her – the version of herself that he can see the faintest hint of now, as she turns her head to catch his eye.
Perhaps he's surprised her, because Vivian just stares at him for a very long moment, until…
"I think you've overestimated my selflessness," she tells him. There's a small tremor in her voice now, too, when she breathes, "I will always put myself first, every single time."
And with that, she finally breaks free of the strange magnetic pulse keeping them there, standing so close together in the Slytherin stands on this cold January afternoon. But Sirius doesn't intend on letting her go that easily. He follows her as she moves from the stands to the snow covered grass, and quickly falls into step beside her even as she attempts to walk faster than him.
"Is that what you think you're doing? You think agreeing to do Voldemort's bidding is going to save you? Are you really that naïve?" Sirius demands.
Vivian sends him a narrowed look and hisses, "Have you been following me, Black? Maybe your blood traitor friend is right and you really are obsessed with me."
Rather than angering him, though, Sirius completely ignores this and instead comes right out to ask, "This task of yours. What is it?"
Vivian immediately stops and swings around to face him, looking more than just angry. She's shaking again, but this time it isn't in fear or pain.
"You were following me," she spits. Wildfire spreads through her eyes. It reminds him of a brushfire in the dry heat of summer, burning through trees and deadened branches so quickly that intervention is impossible. You just have to wait it out, let the fire burn the forest to ashes and renew the earth in the wake of it. That's the thing about wildfires: their destruction brings growth, and he's just waiting to see that spark of life in her now. In fact, a part of him is desperate for it.
"When are you going to get it through your thick head to stay the fuck out of my business?" she snarls at him, burning and angry and alive. Sirius stares at her and waits.
"I don't want your advice. I don't need anything from you. If you think I'm just going to spill my guts out to you after all the shit you've pulled on me over the years, you're more of an idiot than I thought – and another thing, Black, if I catch you following me again, I can promise you that my dictionaries aren't only a cover-up. I know a few curses that will guarantee you a spot in one of Pomfrey's hospital beds, so stay the hell away from me," she bursts out, and then marches off before he can even think of a response.
And, for a blissful moment, Vivian truly thinks that he will stay away from her – that her irate words have finally impacted him.
She's wrong, of course. She doesn't know it quite yet, but when it comes to her, Sirius isn't so easily derailed.
"I'm sorry, okay?" he tells her in a clipped tone, and falls back into place beside her before she's even taken more than a handful of steps. The apology sounds hasty, annoyed even, perhaps because he isn't accustomed to issuing such things, least not to her. He doesn't give her any time to consider the fact that he just has, though. In an equally hasty voice, he says, "Seeing you walking through Hogsmeade with Avery and Malfoy – it's just – the look on your face… It made me – Blair, stop walking so fast for Merlin's sake, I'm trying to say something."
Vivian huffs out an impatient growl and demands, "What are you trying to say, Sirius? Spit it out already."
Sirius would have to be deaf not to take notice of the way she uses his name. For a moment, all he can do is gape at her as he turns it over in his head. Her voice fills the silence between his thoughts, echoing with a singular force, until he is able to clear his throat and remind himself of the matter at hand – and the way that Vivian looks like she's seconds from impatiently turning on her heel and leaving him behind again.
He doesn't know what comes over him, really. Maybe it's the lurching sensation of desperation rattling through him, or the need to get to the real reason he had come out here to find her, or maybe it's simply the frost-bitten cheeks and the lips flushed red from with cold and the wildfire eyes searing directly into his. Maybe it's all three of these things, turning together with such velocity that he has no time to pinpoint which is strongest, if any of them do indeed take precedence over the other – maybe he just hadn't realized until this moment that he doesn't want her to walk away from him.
Or maybe he has realized it, only he hadn't considered why.
"I like you," he says before he knows what he's saying. It almost sounds like a question that he's asking himself; the sort of thoughtful contemplation that one conducts when they are in a silenced room, and their thoughts form words without them being fully aware of it until they are already cast from their lips.
Vivian stares at him.
"You like me," she repeats, sounding slightly condescending about it.
Sirius blinks, then shakes his head, then says, "No. I mean – " he trails off, sighs impatiently, and then hurriedly says, "Look, Blair, I know we pretend to hate each other most of the time, but I don't hate you."
Vivian narrows her eyes at him. The slightest touch of confusion enters her eyes, so Sirius takes a step towards her and says again, just in case she doesn't believe him, "I don't hate you." And then, more cognizant now of what he's saying, he adds, "I want to help you. I can, if you let me."
Her eyes are still narrowed. She doesn't look like she trusts him very much, and he supposes that he can't entirely blame her for it. Still, he finds himself hoping that she will trust him, at least a little bit, which is probably why he feels so disappointed when she scoffs, "You want to help me? What sort of prank is this, Black? You're obviously planning something."
Sirius looks a bit annoyed at the suspicion directed at him and impatiently returns, "I'm not trying to prank you, Vivian, I'm telling you that I know someone who's powerful enough to – do something to help you. Send you to a safe house or something. I don't know." She looks about ready to tell him off, so he quickly adds, "Think about it. You wouldn't have to do Voldemort's bidding. You wouldn't have to marry Mulciber. You'd be free of it all. Free of everything holding you down."
It doesn't take someone of great intellect to see what he's getting at. Or, more specifically, which powerful person he's referring to.
Vivian shakes her head at him and forcefully returns, "You think Dumbledore would go out of his way to help me?" Then, because she seems to have reached the end of her patience, Vivian turns on her heel once more and scoffs, "You're an idiot."
Sirius tilts his head back to silently appeal to whatever god exists and, against his better judgement, follows her yet again.
"I know I am," he mutters, much to her surprise. He catches sight of it and shrugs, "Occasionally. Every once in a rare while. Vivian, just tell me you'll think about it, at least."
She doesn't look at him when she grumbles, "I think you really are obsessed with me, Black."
And perhaps it's just as well that she hadn't looked at him, because she might have seen the exhausted agreement in his eyes – that tired sense of begrudging concession that fills him for only a moment before quietly disappearing, just as Vivian disappears on him the first moment she can.
That quiet concession leaves something within him, though, even after it's gone. It's like the final clash of the last thunderbolt hitting the earth from far above; the edge of a storm that the wind has pushed forward, to direct its eye on some other unsuspecting crowd. It's a maddening feeling that reverberates through him like his name upon her lips had echoed through his mind. It's something that teeters so silently on the very corner of his vision that he hardly sees it at all, and it's only when he's making the long return to the Gryffindor tower that he's able to pinpoint exactly what it is.
That contemplative admission that had left his lips without his knowing had been pressed into existence too sincerely to be false, and when that final thunderbolt strikes him, it imparts with it a realization that he can't ignore. It's a realization that he's tried to ignore, many times in the past, but, like the blurted words that had appeared so suddenly, he no longer can.
He stops in the middle of the corridor and stares ahead of him into nothing, and he feels something that is almost an acknowledgement press against some inner part of him, and it brings with it a rushing need to –
Well. It's difficult to describe a writer's muse. It's like the gossamer wings of an insect flying against the wind, flying too nonsensically to fully understand with any mathematical formula or precise geometric calculation. It's delicate and easily crushed, ghostly even – it slips through your fingers like wisps of cloud waywardly falling to the earth – but sometimes it takes form, barraging through you until you have no choice but to take it into your hands and turn it over and over as if it is a diamond cut a hundred times. It glistens like frost on branches when the morning sunshine slowly awakens the world, and when you look up at its potential it is like you are opening your eyes for the first time.
It takes form now, as the thunderbolt echoes into the diminishing clouds and then quietly takes it leaves.
Vivian, it says:
Sometimes you are a darkened sky;
A cloudy night; a tempered sigh;
A winter cardinal singing high
Upon a distant tree.
The song you sing is yet unknown
To that distant tree you call your own,
There is, within, an undertone
That cannot wrangle free.
Sometimes I think I've never heard
A song so sad and yet so blurred –
But, like the cardinal's complex words,
At last I think I see:
Your song is, by design, unclear,
To cast away the insincere.
It is a trick; a fake veneer,
That sets adrift the sea.
For if the world heard your true tune,
There's not a man who'd be immune;
It is more glamorous than the moon,
High in the galaxy.'
Vivian, it whispers, and then disappears on the wind.