A/N: In which Vivian makes her choice and mourns it.

Jomobabe45: You can always say that! Lol. Hope you liked last chapter!

DarkLordofMemes: They will be, we're nearly out of the angst, sort of. Season 1 is only going to be a few more chapters at this point and it will end on a high note

gwenwesley: Yeah, I'm really putting Sirius through the wringer here…but he needs to learn his lesson not to mess with Vivian ;)

MarnieQuiera: I couldn't actually have her burn them, she's gonna need them in the future when she misses Sirius. Honestly if you guys think this is angsty, just wait until the shitstorm of Season 2

haleygur7: Thanks :) Vivian has come a long way

Chrysanthemum: I don't know, I can't really see Vivian giving Sirius a nickname. I feel like if she did, it'd be something like 'mutt' lol!

CuoreSpezzato: James is special :) Honestly tho I don't even know where half of the scenes he's in comes from. They just randomly appear when I sit down and start writing. My plan regarding Vivian and the Death Eaters won't be fully realized until Season 2. I'm really excited to get into it. And as for Adrian, I did end up exploring a bit more of his character in this chapter, though it sort of backfired on me (as you'll see). I'm not sure what part he'll play in future seasons yet, but I'll probably be exploring more of his character in Season 2

Aamarillis: Gavin is always right ;)

Laleh: I haven't really thought about it before, but there were a few comments on Mulciber this past week that made me think that I should explore his character a bit more. I think he's going to be in both Season 2 and 3.

remifoster1313: Yes he does haha. I couldn't make Vivian burn the poems though. Like I said in one of the reviews above, she's going to need them when she's missing Sirius. I am envisioning her taking them out every once in a while and reading through them. Anyway this chapter will answer some of your questions, but Mulciber will have more scenes in the next chapter!

Anon: I will definitely consider it. I do love Gavin :)

Anne J Black: He is special, I love writing him! He always changes my plans whenever he comes into the scenes ;)

scars from the sun: I'm glad you enjoyed James's antics! That chapter was really fun to write

laura-firewalker: You will like the ending of Season 1! I have been planning it out since the first chapter. Also yeah, I don't know how James managed that either but you are so right lol

As always, hope you are all doing well and staying safe!


Chapter Fifty Five | Ducunt volentem fata, nolentem trahunt

[Fate leads the willing soul, but drags along the unwilling one]

Vivian Blair wouldn't claim to have courage in droves. Her version of bravery does not run hot within her veins. It is not a warm sun that shines down upon her world, setting the horizon afire in its efforts to blaze a course through her many conflicts. No, if she would have to compare her courage to anything, it would be like the full moon that rises within the sky even now, hidden every once in a while by clouds that obscure it entirely. It's cold and elusive and it doesn't always seem as if it is there at all.

"Hurry up, Adrian. I thought you said we were on a schedule," Vivian mutters as she pulls her cloak tighter around her frame. Her fingers are clenched around her wand and have been ever since they had left the safety of the castle. There is something wicked afoot that hangs heavy in the air, making her instincts flare up as she walks stiffly through the streets of Hogsmeade. Behind her, Mulciber hazards a glance at the others and shrugs. Perhaps he doesn't feel it like she does, or perhaps he is already so accustomed to it that he no longer feels its presence at all.

The streets are empty and eerily silent, and the group passes through them without notice. Besides her and Mulciber, Lucius has accompanied them, and he has brought Rosier, Snape, and Regulus. Vivian is naturally a bit annoyed that the others have decided to tag along like this, but perhaps their presence will take most of the attention off of her. She hadn't complained overmuch when they had all gathered together in the Slytherin common room earlier that night, though she had made a few snarky comments about Regulus's presence.

"He's a sixth year, anyway. It's not as if he'll be able to join the Dark Lord yet," she had drawled, spearing Regulus with a sharp look.

Lucius had shrugged and responded, "We're all graduating soon. He'll need someone within the castle to keep an eye on things."

He hadn't said anything more on the subject, but he hadn't really needed to. His silent inference had been enough: Regulus will most likely be joining a lot earlier than any of them expected, if only to become an inside source of information during the next year. The thought had been conflicting, but Vivian is past trying to make him change his mind and hadn't bothered responding. If Regulus wants to sell his soul, then there's nothing she can do to stop him.

Her relationship with the younger Black brother has been incredibly tense as of late. Since dropping Sirius's secret, Regulus seems to have decided to make himself a bit scarce around her, during the day anyway. He no longer seeks her out in the Great Hall or walks with her to prefect meetings, though the latter could simply be because Vivian hasn't actually attended a prefect meeting in some time. Point is though, that Regulus has made it clear that kindling a friendship with Vivian is no longer in his best interest, which is altogether conflicting in its own right. If only he could see what Vivian sees, then perhaps she'd be able to save him.

It will take some years before that happens, though, and besides, saving Regulus Black isn't nearly as important as saving herself.

A hand suddenly wraps itself around her elbow, and Vivian turns to look at Adrian, who is looking into a darkened alley between two shops. Vivian vaguely recognizes them as Gladrags and Scrivenshaft's, but since everything is so dark, she can't be completely certain. She turns her gaze to follow Mulciber's and sees the dull sheen of something deep within the shadows. A moment later, a figure emerges from the dark depths; a silent sentinel awaiting their presence.

"Is that Rabastan?" she whispers to Adrian, who glances down at her blankly.

For a long moment, he just stares at her, his hand wrapped solidly around her arm, and then…

"We're meeting Bellatrix and a few of the others in the forest behind the village. He's probably here to led us to them," he responds to her. Then, much to her surprise, his touch falls from her elbow to her hand, and a moment later he's clasping their fingers together as he guides her forward. She doesn't miss the sharp glance he sends Rabastan as they approach, nor the amused smirk that etches over Rabastan's face as he blinks back.

"I don't need you to protect me," she mutters at him, assuming that this is just some tactic to assert his masculinity or some such thing. Still, it would be a lie to claim that she'd rather pull away from him entirely. She doesn't like Adrian, but right now she'll take whatever small comfort is afforded to her, if it will help to convince herself that she is brave after all.

At her side, Mulciber scoffs and just mutters, "You know, just once it'd be nice if you weren't such a cow to me."

Vivian rolls her eyes and mumbles, "It's so hard not to be, though."

He makes a sound beneath his breath that sounds like it's a mix between another scoff and a laugh, and says, "We'd make a good team if you'd stop being so stubborn about it."

She decides not to respond to that, mainly because she's not sure what she'd say anyway. Perhaps they would make a good team, if her heart was truly aligned with the Dark Lord's vision, but she dares not make mention of those thoughts. Not now, and perhaps not ever.

As Rabastan leads them through the alley and they begin their trek beyond the village parameters, it's all too easy to imagine that she may never get the chance to mention all of those things. After all, the darkness is so empowering and the atmosphere so eclipsed that it seems as if they are walking down a path that has no end to it. That's the scariest part of all, really: not that she can't go backwards, but that she may end up being forced to walk this path for all of eternity.

Eternity. Yes, that is a frightful, unfathomable concept. Life is too short to truly grasp the notion of forever, but every once in a while you are filled with a thought of what it might be like, if perhaps the world turned just so on its axis and life as we knew it shifted to accommodate such things. Vivian is filled with that thought now, as she approaches a group of darkly hooded figures who linger between the trees just outside the village, but it isn't a thought that brings relief or happiness.

No, she thinks of whether she might live in the same eternal darkness as these figures. If the path she is on now truly has no end to it at all. Perhaps she will be forced to spend her whole life on it. Perhaps it will even drag her to the pits of hell, once that life is over.

The thought makes her clench her jaw and tighten her hand around Adrian's, searching for the last dregs of comfort that might reinforce her courage. But it's such a fleeting thing. It disappears with every bluster of wind that moves the clouds across the sky, shrouding it from view just when she needs it.

"My sweet, sweet Vivian," Bellatrix croons. She steps forward and throws her hood back, revealing a mass of curly black hair. The manic sheen of her eyes doesn't entirely match up with her dulcet voice, nor the mad laugh she releases when she reaches out to take Vivian's shoulders.

"You have made the right choice," she whispers to her, so overcome with happiness that it lends a deranged cadence to her words. Her grip is tight and clawing. Her smile lurches its way into madness.

Vivian doesn't smile back, because she doesn't think she can, but thankfully Bellatrix doesn't appear to care. She merely sends Bellatrix a nod and focuses on holding her head high.

"We don't have much time," Rabastan drawls from behind his sister-in-law; a cold reminder.

Bellatrix straightens up and murmurs, "Of course." Then, turning back to Vivian, she whispers, "The Dark Lord is pleased with you, Vivian, but your task isn't complete until we test your creation out properly."

It's only then that Vivian notices that one of the figures is kneeling down on the forest floor, covered in a dark cloak but thus far unmoving. When Bellatrix steps out of her line of vision, she sees everything she had missed, before.

A cold trickle of unease slowly moves through her. It is like her veins have been filled with shards of ice, coalescing and crystalizing until she can no longer move. She stands there and stares as Rabastan moves forward to pull the hood off, and when her eyes lock onto a living, breathing human, the ice locks together and forms an immovable force within her.

"Fortunately, we have found a willing participant," Bellatrix says, smiling in an almost loving manner at the nameless face. It's obvious that the man has been put under an immobilizing spell, for even though his eyes are wide with terror, he doesn't even flinch when Bellatrix clenches her fingers into his hair and drags his head back. That he is a 'willing participant' is most definitely a stretch of the truth.

The hand that is gripping her wand tightens so hard that her knuckles blanch. Vivian tears her eyes away from the nameless man and stares at Bellatrix, who is studying her as she stands over the man. When their eyes clash, Bellatrix smiles and pats the man's cheek. "Now is the moment for you to prove your allegiance, Vivian. Kill the muggle and secure your place amongst us."

Vivian would have been a fool to come all the way and not have expected something like this. She thought she had prepared herself for the blend of darkness that she knew awaited her, but she clearly hadn't anticipated that she'd be asked to become a murderer. Given the nature of her spell, she should have. Bellatrix would never hand over a spell that isn't fully tested. Her position in the Dark Lord's ranks means far too much to her.

"The spell works," Vivian says. Her voice is hoarse; it rattles from her throat and twists her words into a shaking resemblance of what they ought to be. She swallows around the lump in her throat and says, clearer this time, "We've already tested it."

She half expects Adrian to jump in and make some remark about how they tested it on an animal, not a human, but he remains silent at her side.

Bellatrix raises an eyebrow at her, looking a shade more doubtful now. "I wish to see it for myself. If it doesn't work, the Dark Lord will be…upset." It's clear that he'll be a little more than simply upset, from the way Bellatrix's eyes flash. She looks at Vivian and says, "Do it. Bloody your hands for us, Vivian." Her mouth curls up manically.

Vivian swallows again and turns her gaze to the muggle. He looks absolutely terrified. The only sound that escapes him are the heavy breaths that struggle to leave his immobilized form.

The path to hell is made easy on purpose. It is a downward decline riddled with decisions that the weak of heart do not think too hard upon. It is made up of two words that take only moments to say. What is a moment in the grand scheme of life? What is a word?

But is life not made up of moments that build, one atop the other, into days and years and decades? That is the beauty and the dread of eternity. A single misstep will remove whatever end awaits you and send you hurtling forever forward. And of course you can be forgiven if you catch yourself soon enough, but it is difficult to stop the fall. Once you begin, it is all the harder to stop.

What is the difference, though? Vivian had come here to hand over her spell. Is that not the same as murder? Vivicendium is only one word, but it paves the way to that eternity just the same. Perhaps this is why our souls will be judged and weighed by the one who is greater than ourselves; for humans blur the lines without always trying, in their attempts to right the many wrongs that they unwittingly create.

Adrian clenches her hand tightly and she draws in a breath. The ice is melting from her veins now, but she isn't sure what's replacing it. All she knows is that, without it, she feels shaky and faint.

She lifts her wand and points it at the man. Her eyes lock with his, but she can't hold his gaze for more than a few seconds. The fear in his eyes makes her gut clench with nausea, so she drops her eyes to his chest instead, knowing that if she were to look away entirely, Bellatrix would see it as a sign of weakness – and if she were to refuse altogether, well…

The path to hell is smooth and even, and Bellatrix would sooner drag her down it herself than watch her turn away.

Self-preservation is a cold, cold thing.

"…Avada," she breathes; the first word.

She doesn't get to utter the second, though, because in the brief pause that elapses as she takes in a breath, someone else takes over.

"Avada Kedavra," Regulus Black says, and a moment later, a burst of green light erupts from his wand and slams into the muggle's chest, killing him instantly.

All of them turn to stare at him, including a very shaky, very bewildered Vivian. Her eyes lock with his. There is iron there, within the grey, illuminated by the full moon's light. Iron that strengthens into steel when Bellatrix angrily releases the muggle man and hisses, "She was to do it. She was – "

Vivian quickly waves her wand at the still-warm corpse and murmurs her spell beneath her breath, hoping that it will distract Bellatrix from her rage. She's still reeling with shock at Regulus's sudden move, so much so that she hardly even hears herself mutter the spell at all. But once murmured, it does indeed distract Bellatrix.

As the muggle begins to rise, the attention moves away from Regulus. Bellatrix turns to watch, eyes wide and wild as the man surges to his feet and lifts his chin. A flash of cognizance puckers through his gaze, which he turns to Vivian; his mistress. The deadened stare makes the nauseous feeling return at full force, but Vivian swallows back the shakiness to instead demand, "Come."

The muggle comes. His gait is sure and strong. He lurches forward the moment the order leaves her lips, and stops only when he is standing before her. Behind him, Bellatrix releases a mad, cackling laugh.

Bile rises up within Vivian but she swallows that back too, and hoarsely orders, "Kneel."

The muggle kneels immediately, without hesitation, without question. He is little more than a husk to be ordered about. Free will is not a luxury possessed by the dead. They have no need of it.

Vivian keeps her eyes trained upon the grotesque gaze of her creation. Its filmy white eyes stare back unblinkingly, awaiting another order. She grants one.

"…You will accompany Bellatrix and do everything she commands," Vivian murmurs. Her voice is clearer than she thinks it ought to be, considering what she has just done. Perhaps she is in a state of subdued shock, and her mind has not fully comprehended the first step she has just taken down the road to hell.

Bellatrix laughs again. It's an unhinged sound, and it grows even more so when the Inferi stands and turns to her. She sounds perfectly insane when she orders, "Kiss the dirt, muggle. Grovel in it."

Vivian swallows yet again when the man immediately obeys, falling to his knees once more and then bowing his body down to the soil. The action is as demeaning as it gets, and even though the man is dead and his soul is hopefully somewhere safe, she feels another wave of nausea hit her hard in the chest. This time it is accompanied with clawing, drowning guilt. Guilt, so much guilt that she has to hold her breath around the blistering flood of it.

She has done this. It is her doing. Hers, and…she glances over at Regulus, only to find that he's already staring at her. There is a look in his eyes that she cannot identify. It is dark and painful, almost. After all, he has just become a murderer for her.

It is only the first moment on Regulus Black's path to hell; only the first time that he will bloody his hands for Vivian Blair. The first stroke of Fate is always the longest; the first chime is the most resounding. Neither of them knows it yet, but it will not be the last. There will be many more chimes, and many more steps down this smooth, dark road in their attempt to find its end.

"The Dark Lord will be very happy, Vivian," Bellatrix croons as she watches the muggle bow into the dirt before her. "Yes, very happy."

Vivian tears her eyes away from Regulus and swallows again. She doesn't respond. She's not sure she can. So, instead, she smiles, and hopes that through the haze of Bellatrix's madness, it looks genuine. But far up in the sky, the clouds have shrouded the moon again, and her attempt matters not, for the darkness washes it away.


Her shock wears off on her way back to the castle. This is probably the most inopportune time for a panic attack, because of one simple fact. See, Vivian Blair's courage is like the full moon that sits high in the night sky even now.

She had managed to escape Adrian and the others, who had wanted to linger in the clearing for as long as they could, to hear more of the Dark Lord's plans. If she was more composed she would have done the same, if only to prepare herself for the next step into hell, but her nausea and her guilt is so overpowering that she had excused herself before the others. Bellatrix had allowed it. She had been too pleased with Vivian's success to question the hastiness of her exit, and had merely waved her off before turning to the others. And so Vivian is now fleeing across the grounds of Hogwarts and experiencing something that she has never experienced before: full-fledged panic.

Her mind is churning out images of filmy white eyes flashing into hers. She hardly even sees where she is walking, hardly feels the chill of the night air bite against her skin, hardly knows anything but the fact that she has just sold her soul. Had she? Yes, she thinks so. There is no going back, now. She cannot move backwards.

But how she wishes she could! She feels removed from herself, as a ship struck out to sea. The waters are calm but it hardly matters, because she has lost the oars and cannot move. Were it that the waters were not calm, so that she might at least be pushed in some other direction!

But Jane Austen once said, "seldom, very seldom, does complete truth belong to any human disclosure; seldom can it happen that something is not a little disguised, or a little mistaken," and though Vivian cannot go entirely backwards, she can at the very least turn her course to the side. After all, Fate will on occasion make allowances for those who are strong enough to wrangle it into submission. That's the thing about being human. We can be extraordinarily innovative where it concerns our own destinies. We are all of us selfish at heart. When we think that something is in our best interest, we do not hesitate to secure it.

Sirius Black is selfish, too. On this, the night of the full moon, he is very selfish indeed.

Vivian doesn't see, at first, because she has withdrawn into herself to such an extent that even the ground before her is blurry at best. She doesn't yet realize that the blurriness is in part due to the tears that are streaking down her cheeks. Her shock subdues her. Grief, in whatever form it comes, has the tendency of doing that.

It is as she's making her way across the grounds, blazing a path towards the castle, that an eerie howl splits through the night air. It is a rupture of sound that not even Vivian, in her current state, can ignore. She lifts her head to look around. The full moon is veiled by thick clouds, which is the other reason why she doesn't see the figure that is hurtling towards her. Well, not until the golden eyes are mere meters away, of course. With a shuttered gasp, she trips backwards, the way she had come – just as a tall, proud stag thunders in front of her.

At first she thinks she dreaming, but the reality is too tangible for that, and the lines that she had missed, before, connect together now with startling clarity. She lifts her eyes to the antlers and thinks: Prongs.

Padfoot.

Wormtail.

…Moony.

As this final realization slams into her, a pair of hands grab her shoulders and she is suddenly being spun around. Reality blurs, and then resettles, and she finds herself looking up into Sirius's stormy grey eyes.

"What are you doing out here?" he demands angrily, but doesn't have time to wait for her response, because Moony is howling with furious intent as he tries to push Prongs out of the way. The stormy eyes turn a shade more fearful as Sirius takes Vivian's hand and begins to pull her towards the castle. Moony growls angrily behind them.

"Of all the…nights you had to…go roaming around the grounds!" Sirius gasps as he runs, dragging her alongside him. She's too shocked to try to stop him. Her heart is slamming against her ribcage, now beating with more than just horror and guilt. Fear, thick and clawing, settles there too.

Remus is a werewolf. That's why the Marauders are all animagi – because werewolves don't typically go after animals. The missing pieces come together too late. She's not sure which is stronger: the incredible weight that lays upon her shoulders upon creating an Inferi, or the skittish shock from realizing the Remus Lupin isn't fully human. It all makes sense now, but there are just so many thoughts pulling apart her mind that it's difficult to focus on just one. So, instead, she focuses on something else entirely.

Sirius's hand is warm in hers, and he's here with her, and he's not abandoning her, and –

"You're an absolute idiot!" he exclaims breathlessly as he hauls her forward.

He's just as he ought to be, really. Just as she wants him to be.

"What are you even doing, anyway? Are you trying to get yourself killed?" he angrily rambles as he drags her up the steps to the castle. He casts a glance over his shoulder to see if Moony and Prongs are still nearby, but they seem to have disappeared, perhaps into the Forbidden Forest. They're both breathing hard from running and his hand is holding hers a little too tightly, and he's angry and he cares and that's why Vivian ends up releasing a gasping breath and throwing her arms around him.

The force knocks him back, but it takes him less than a second to haul her closer, because even though he's angry he still loves her. Merlin, he does. He buries her against him and turns his head into her hair, inhaling the faintest hint of vanilla as she shakes into his body. He's never seen her like this before. He doesn't know what else to do other than hold her, but that's okay. Now that she's in his arms again, he never wants to let her go.

Something is rising between them: words that are not voiced and moments perilously built one on top of the other. A tentative quality stirs the air, made up of all those words that aren't spoken: three, this time, that could pave the way to other summits. They are skyward-bound. They could take her off the path to hell, if she only had the courage to say them. But courage is for the lion-hearted adventurers, and she is no lion, not really.

There is something breakable to her. It is construed of human flaws; imperfections so exquisite that all he can do is stare at her as his breath catches in his throat. And then –

She breathes out and steps back, and walks away without a word. For a moment, Sirius stares blindly into the darkness, and then follows.

"Vivian," he calls. The worried anger has left him. His voice is little more than a hoarse croak.

Vivian doesn't stop, so Sirius hurries after her. He catches her arm as she's turning the corner past the Great Hall and pulls her back around to face him, brows furrowed with concern. Now that the shock of seeing her in front of Moony has worn off, all he can think about is why she had been outside to begin with. What had made her break the one rule that Dumbledore had given her? What had made her leave the safety of Hogwarts? It doesn't take a genius to figure it out, especially considering the dread that is thundering through her eyes.

He studies her expression for a long moment, hardly even conscious of the fact that this is the first time they have been alone together for some time now. He's too distracted by the fear and the guilt that cuts across her face.

"What did you do?" he whispers.

He already knows the answer, really, but he needs to hear her say it.

Finally, she lifts her eyes to his, and raises her chin. "Sirius," she says, "let me go."

They both know that her words hold more meaning than a desire to return to the Slytherin common room.

He immediately shakes his head and staunchly replies, "It's not too late."

She feels impatience rattle through her, just enough to smother the urge to curl herself against him again. "It is," she laughs humorlessly, mind flashing with the memory of filmy white eyes. "Voldemort has it, now. The spell. Or, at least he will before the night is over."

Sirius exhales and shuffles closer. His voice is a breath when he replies, "So what? He doesn't have you, and that's all I care about."

Vivian reaches up to clench her fingers into his shirt. She's unsure if she means to pull him towards her or push him back. Her mind is spinning and she can't focus.

"This is bigger than us," she tells him.

Sirius shakes his head again. "Only if you let it be."

She almost smiles at that. She never would have thought that she'd find his stubbornness so endearing.

"I don't want to let it," she admits, clenching her fingers tighter. The 'but' at the end of her sentence hangs heavily in the air. They both hear it, resounding through the spaces between them like leaden weights.

Sirius inhales shakily and steps forward again, and even though she had meant to push him away, she doesn't. "Then don't," he whispers to her.

He feels chaos within him, smoldering, murky – sinking down like a ship into unexplored depths, tearing through the void of that great ocean. It sinks and sinks, and he sinks with it. He leans in and presses his forehead against hers, and for a moment, they only breathe. Then Sirius closes the remainder of the distance and presses his mouth against hers.

Vivian breathes in deeply and, against her better judgement, she kisses him back. She thinks it would be impossible not to, when his lips are so soft and his body so warm. And besides, kissing him distracts her from what she has just done. With his arms around her, she stops thinking about those white filmy eyes and bolts of green light.

He gathers her close, circling his arms around her waist and pulling her into him. One hand lifts to cup her cheek. His fingertips trail fire over her skin, but it is nothing like forest fires or infernos. No, this is only Sirius, and only Vivian, and that is all it needs to be. For a time, anyway, until –

"Vivian. What are you doing," Adrian Mulciber seethes, and with a startled gasp, Vivian finally pushes Sirius away and turns to see Mulciber standing several paces away. The others are with him, sending Vivian varying expressions of disgust and surprise. Clearly, none of them had expected to see her kissing Sirius Black, of all people. Well, except one. Regulus's expression isn't disgusted or surprised. His eyes are blazing with mild panic, actually, as he turns his gaze from Vivian to Adrian.

Sirius exhales sharply and pulls away, shuffling back just far enough to reach for his wand. "What does it look like she's doing?" he demands. He straightens his spine, eyes hardening as he stares Mulciber down with every shred of Gryffindor stubbornness that he possesses.

Vivian turns to stare at Regulus, her eyes reflecting the same panic that resides in his. She doesn't know why she looks to him – maybe it's because he had just bloodied his hands for her – but she feels a fledging hope burgeon through her, that he might step in and diffuse the situation before it can come to blows. It's probably foolish of her, though, considering how thoroughly angry Adrian Mulciber is.

"It looks like she's snogging a disgusting blood traitor," Mulciber growls, and draws out his wand.

Sirius grits his teeth. His eyes flash with more of that Gryffindor courage. He looks like he's seconds away from lifting his wand and hexing Adrian where he stands, so Vivian hurries to grab his wrist. Sirius glances over at her, looking slightly confused. Until, of course, one look at the panic in her eyes makes the confusion blaze over into determination.

"Vivian can make up her own mind on who she wants to snog," Sirius says loudly, lifting his chin to stare at Mulciber with hard eyes.

Mulciber's anger takes an immediate turn into fury at this. He steps forward, only for Regulus to grab his arm. He says something in a low voice to Adrian, who doesn't appear to want to listen. That much is obvious when, a moment later, Adrian glares at Vivian and sneers, "How long have you been messing around with him, then?"

Vivian opens her mouth to respond to this, but it's Sirius who angrily growls, "Not that it's any of your business, but I'd reckon a lot longer than you realized, seeing as you're such an unintelligent troll – "

"Sirius," Vivian hisses.

"No, it's fine, Vivian," Adrian sneers. "I probably deserved that, seeing as you've been making a fool out of me for months now."

Sirius snorts. "You don't need anyone's help with that, Mulciber."

Adrian doesn't even seem to hear him, though. He has eyes only for Vivian, and right now, the expression in them looks absolutely thunderous. "I wonder what your father would say about this. Or the Dark Lord, for that matter."

Mention of the Dark Lord makes the ice return to her veins. She wrangles it back and scorns, "Oh please. As if Voldemort cares who I snog. You're just upset that I don't want to kiss you."

Sirius smirks and adds, "I doubt anyone would."

Vivian elbows him to shut up and sneers, "If I want to kiss the blood traitor, then I will. It doesn't have to mean anything."

This actually does make Sirius shut up, of course. He turns to gape at her in shock, looking miffed. She ignores him and just crosses her arms, raising an eyebrow at Mulciber.

Adrian stares stonily at her and growls, "You're not getting out of this so easily, Blair. You've got to be a complete idiot if you think I'm going to turn a blind eye."

Vivian sends him a sharp, amused look. "Why, because you still think that I'm actually going to marry you? If anyone's a complete idiot, it's you."

Adrian lifts his chin a notch and coolly replies, "You know our marriage is nothing more than a contract, Blair. You can't just waltz out of it."

She laughs and drawls, "Watch me."

Sirius crosses his arms and does exactly that. The wildfire is back and it's absolutely gorgeous. Well, he's still a bit annoyed that she had called him a blood traitor, but he'll take what he can get. This definitely beats her ignoring him.

"You're making a huge mistake," Adrian tells her. His voice is dark and furious, swept through with anger.

Vivian swallows around the trepidation lurching through her and responds, "Marrying you would be a bigger one."

A strange thing happens when a Slytherin's anger becomes great enough. Perhaps the way they freeze over has something to do with their desire to always stay one step ahead; to keep their weaknesses hidden so as to succeed. Their expressions turn so cold that it is impossible to figure out what they are thinking. There is a certain guardedness to that expression; an ambiguity meant to confuse and bewilder. Adrian's expression is quickly transforming into such a thing, and Vivian, as a Slytherin herself, understands what it means.

It means that he's so angry, all bets are off. It means that he isn't going to let this go, but like a true and proper Slytherin, he won't be predictable about pursuing vengeance. No, like a true Slytherin, he will strike when and where it brings the most pain, and only when she's least expecting it.

"Well then," he coolly says, his voice like ice. "I suppose I wouldn't want someone whose been tainted by this piece of scum anyway." He hazards a scornful glance at Sirius, who clenches his jaw tightly at the insult. Adrian sneers and sends Vivian one final, cold stare before continuing on his way.

Sirius probably would have thrown a curse at him, if Vivian doesn't grab his wand and pluck it out of his hands. He's so surprised at her action that he turns to stare at her, looking altogether conflicted about going after Mulciber and giving him a piece of his mind – with or without his wand.

"Stop it, Sirius," Vivian snaps at him. "You're going to make things worse."

Sirius's mouth drops open. "I'm going to make things worse? What about you?"

She glowers at him and shoves his wand into his chest. As he fumbles to catch it, she scoffs, "If you hadn't been outside tonight none of this would have happened."

He narrows his eyes at her. "You're the one who shouldn't have been outside. Plus it's not my fault that Mulciber follows you around these days."

She narrows her eyes too, and hisses, "Whatever, just leave me alone," before turning on her heel and storming off. Sirius watches her go with stormy eyes, reeling from everything that's just happened.

Vivian is reeling too, but it isn't only because of Sirius Black. She's reeling from everything that has transpired since she had found out that Sirius was writing her those poems. Every mistake she's made since then now seems to pull at her mind, blustering like a hurricane – unhinged, chaotic – twisting through every emotion and desire that rattles at her every thought. She's a Slytherin. She's supposed to be one step ahead, but she feels as if she's been thrown into such disarray that she'll never be able to succeed. She storms through the darkened hallways as if she's on fire, but the emotion that drives her isn't anger.

She just wants this year to be over. She wants –

Well, she wants a lot of things, really, but most of all she wants to be able to move forward without feeling as if she is moving in the wrong direction. She wants to not be afraid of choosing her own path. She wants to be braver.

But see, it is often the people that do not view themselves as being brave who are the very bravest of all.

Vivian Blair can be brave if only she tries. After all, she has a Gryffindor heart, and it is made of fire - whether she knows it or not.