September 1, 1991
Iris, Harry, and Ron waited patiently outside the Great Hall along with the other First Year students.
They'd been escorted there from the castle entrance by Minerva McGonagall herself and Deputy Headmistress had left the First Years to converse among themselves as she finished preparations for the Sorting Ceremony.
One girl's voice could be heard distinctly over the nervous chatter and Iris glanced over her shoulder to find Hermione Granger lecturing a trembling boy about keeping track of his pet toad.
Hermione had barged into Iris, Ron, and Harry's compartment late into the train ride, looking for said toad, but the amphibian had only reappeared once the First Years had concluded their boat rides over the Black Lake.
On the train, Hermione had taken a break from her pursuit of the toad to introduce herself to Iris, Harry, and Ron. She'd only spent twenty minutes within the compartment, but that had been enough for her to fix the crack in Harry's glasses, warn Ron of the dirt on his nose, and bonded with Iris over being Muggle-Born.
Iris had a good feeling about her.
She caught Hermione's eye and the girl smiled widely at her. Iris returned the girl's kindness with a grin of her own, sensing the same type of warmth from Hermione that she felt with Harry and Ron.
A few minutes later, while Ron relayed facts about the four Houses of Hogwarts to Iris and Harry, a loud, arrogant voice overpowered the rest of the crowd, bringing about a hushed silence.
"It's true then, what they're saying on the train." All eyes darted towards a boy with platinum blond hair. He drifted near the top of the stairs, close to Harry, Iris, and Ron as he said, "Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts."
The gasps that the revelation caused turned Harry's face crimson.
In contrast to the flush of his cheeks, Harry remained stone-faced as he scrutinized the boy.
"This is Crabbe and Goyle." The boy motioned to two stocky boys that had followed his lead. He then extended his hand to Harry and said, "And I'm Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."
Beside Iris, Ron snickered under his breath and it caught the attention of Draco Malfoy instantaneously.
"Think my name's funny, do you?" Draco's lips curled with disgust as his hand jolted back to his side. "No need to ask who you are. Red hair and a hand-me-down robe? Must be a Weasley." He spat viciously. "Doesn't your family live in one room?"
Draco Malfoy's comments struck Ron with the weight of a thousand bricks.
His cheer disappeared, his jovial grin twisting into a frown and the excitement within his eyes morphing into shame and embarrassment.
As witness to Ron's reaction, Iris understood that this wasn't the first time he'd heard someone make such cruel remarks about his family.
And it enraged her.
She took a step upwards, becoming eye level with Draco Malfoy.
"Watch your mouth." She warned.
He narrowed his eyes at her. "And who are you exactly?"
"Iris. Iris Sinclair. And I don't appreciate the way you just spoke to my friend."
"Sinclair—" Draco ruminated on her surname, enunciating the syllables as if they were poison on his tongue. "I don't know of any wizarding family with that surname. You must be a Mud-"
"A Muggle-Born, yes." She interrupted.
The frown that twisted his features was evidence of his annoyance as he repeated, "Yes, Muggle-Born."
She resisted the urge to strike him.
She knew what he had almost called her.
Mudblood.
A wizard had snarled the derogatory term at her while she'd shopped for supplies in Diagon Alley, as if he could sense her inexperience with just a glance. Afterwards, she'd begged the witch tailoring her school robes to tell her the meaning of it.
The woman had, but only to give Iris an insight of the world she'd been thrown into.
A world that was not much different than the one she left behind.
Draco Malfoy's eyes burned into hers, the fire within his meaning to scare her, but she wasn't one to back down easily.
She returned his ferocity with her own, inadvertently falling into a stare down with the boy.
She studied her opponent, refusing to be the first one to look away. His angular face would've been easy on the eyes if it had not been marred with arrogance, that much she could admit, but the color of his irises bothered her greatly.
His eyes were a startling shade of grey, cool silver pools that seemed otherworldly.
"I could make your life very difficult if I wanted to, Iris Sinclair." Draco sneered.
"I dare you." She retorted without hesitation.
He arched an eyebrow at her defiance, the slightest hint of intrigue crossing his features as he surveyed her one last time before shifting his focus back onto Harry.
Satisfied with Draco's resignation, Iris retreated and returned to her place beside Ron.
"You didn't have to do that." Ron said.
"But I did. And I would do it again."
Ron grinned from ear to ear at her response and her heart squeezed as the light returned to his eyes.
Mere moments after Harry succeeded in shooing away Draco Malfoy for good, the doors to the Great Hall burst open and Professor McGonagall stood on the threshold, motioning for the First Years to follow her down the path cleared for the ceremony.
Iris' eyes shot upwards to the ceiling of the Great Hall as she, Harry, and Ron followed Professor McGonagall and the rest of the First Years. It had been enchanted to resemble the night sky, stars shining brightly and dark clouds drifting slowly above their heads.
It was extraordinary.
The older students were already seated at the four long wooden tables. The robes of the older students created a wave of color as emerald morphed into navy blue and scarlet red transformed into sunshine yellow.
Professor McGonagall reached the end of the aisle and planted herself next to a stool with a weathered down hat atop it.
"First Years!" She yelled as she clapped her hands together.
Awestruck conversation between the students continued and Professor McGonagall's call went unnoticed.
"All we have to do is a try on an old hat?" Ron's eyes widened with disbelief. "I'll kill Fred and George. They told me they had to wrestle a troll!"
"FIRST YEARS!" Professor McGonagall announced with her wand pointed at her throat.
The inhabitants of the Great Hall were rendered silent and Professor McGonagall observed the sea of students with satisfaction. She returned her wand back to its spot within her robes and retrieved a long roll of parchment. "When I call your name, you will sit on the stool and the Sorting Hat will place you in your house."
Professor McGonagall didn't waste any time beginning the ceremony and the first name called was a girl sorted into Hufflepuff.
Iris could hardly breathe.
She wasn't sure if her anxiety's formation had to with her displeasure of soon having the eyes of the entire Hall upon her or from the fear of being sorted into a House with those that would look at her the same way that wizard in Diagon Alley did.
She hoped beyond reason that she would be placed in the same House as Harry and Ron.
They'd only shared a train ride together, but she felt safe in their company. Ron desperately wanted to be placed in Gryffindor as the rest of his family had been and Harry seemed eager on the House as well.
Iris glanced at Harry who smiled faintly at her.
If she wasn't sorted into the same House as Harry and Ron, she hoped she and Hermione would be.
She glanced around the crowd searching for the girl only to realize that she was already on the stool, the Sorting Hat placed firmly on top of her bushy, thick curls. The Sorting Hat yelled "GRYFFINDOR!" and Iris' heart sunk, a new fear rising to the surface that she would be the only of her friends not placed within the House of the courageous and the brave.
The boy with the toad went next, Neville Longbottom, and he was also placed in Gryffindor. The next boy after Neville was placed into Ravenclaw and then it was Draco Malfoy's turn.
The Hat had barely touched Draco's head before it shouted, "SLYTHERIN!"
Draco's lips curled arrogantly as he swaggered over to the Slytherin table.
Iris felt nauseous.
What if she was placed in Slytherin?
A few more names were called and then it was Harry's turn. There were only a few First Years left to be sorted and Iris felt Harry's absence the second he moved towards the stool.
The moment Harry's name was called, the whispers began.
"The Harry Potter?"
"Did she just say Potter?"
Harry and Ron had told her on the train about how Harry had defeated a Dark wizard known as Lord Voldemort when he was only a baby. Voldemort had tried to use the Killing Curse on Harry, but it had rebounded and killed him instead.
Harry had saved the world that night, but he'd also lost his parents as they had sacrificed themselves trying to protect their son.
It was a lot for Iris to wrap her head around.
And Harry didn't seem to understand it quite yet either.
Harry sat on the stool and forced his eyes shut once the Hat was placed on his head, the tension within the Hall thick as everyone awaited the Sorting Hat's decision.
The Hat's thin line for a mouth seemed to be whispering to Harry and Harry seemed to be quietly responding back.
Iris could only imagine what kind of conversation you could have with an old hat.
It felt as if years passed before the Hat announced its decision.
"Better be GRYFFINDOR!"
The room erupted into cheers and Harry's smile lit up the Hall as he made his way to the Gryffindor table.
Two girls went after Harry, one sorted into Slytherin and the other into Hufflepuff.
Then it was Iris' turn.
Her palms were slick with sweat and the pressure on her chest increased intensely. Her feet were frozen in place, her brain screaming at her legs to move as her limbs seemed to have a mind of their own.
"Iris Sinclair." Professor McGonagall repeated gently as she motioned towards the stool.
Ron nudged her from the side and the action forced her feet forward.
"Go on, I'm right behind you." He reassured her.
Iris took another step forward.
"Bloody hell Iris, pull yourself together." She mumbled as she picked up her pace.
Once she reached the stool of impending doom, she looked to Professor McGonagall and the witch reassured her with a touch on the shoulder.
Her cheeks were set aflame as she sat on the stool and the Hat was placed on her head.
She locked eyes with Harry who shot her a thumbs up and then her gaze shifted to Ron who, despite his best effort to appear indifferent, looked just as nervous for his turn.
"Interesting. You face the same predicament as young Potter." The Hat whispered. "You desperately want to be placed in Gryffindor, but I see an ambitious and cunning side to you reminiscent of Slytherin. There have only been a handful of Muggle-Borns placed within Salazar's House. You could shine there. Defy the odds."
Iris' stomach flipped. "I don't want to defy the odds. I just want to be with my friends."
"As you wish, I am not one to deny a witch what she wants—let's go with GRYFFINDOR!" The Hat announced.
Her eyes welled with tears.
The Hat had listened to her.
"Thank you." She whispered as she returned the Hat to its spot on the stool.
She sprinted towards the Gryffindor table and took the empty spot beside Hermione who squeezed her hand and cheered, "This is all so exciting!"
Harry beamed at her from across the table and a couple older students, including Ron's older brother Percy, congratulated her on being sorted into the "best" House at Hogwarts.
In that moment, Iris was the happiest she'd ever been. She wasn't worried about Ron, it seemed to be a guarantee that he would be placed into Gryffindor, and then she could continue building each friendship she'd begun on the train.
As she observed the Sorting Hat place two more students into their respective Houses, she was overcome with the strange sensation of being watched and her eyes found the origination of the feeling across the Hall.
Draco Malfoy was staring at her, his lips curled into an entitled smirk.
Her throat tightened at the sight and this time she was the one that looked away first.
Her eyes flicked back towards the Sorting Hat as it was placed on Ron's head and the Great Hall burst into laughter when the Hat announced loud enough for everyone to hear: "ANOTHER Weasley—"
September 4, 2000
Iris awoke in the armchair in her bedroom at 12 Grimmauld Place, her legs thrown over the side and a quilted blanket placed delicately around her shoulders.
It had been light outside when she had stumbled into her bedroom, drunk off the scotch she'd shared with Kreacher in the study. Now, the only light in her room was coming from the glow of her fireplace and the lit candle on her desk.
After Harry revealed that Draco would be staying with them for the duration of his Auror training, she'd emptied nearly half of the bottle of scotch's contents and then announced that she was taking the rest of the day off.
The second she swung the front door open of the townhouse, Kreacher had been waiting for her in the entrance hall. The House-Elf had undoubtedly been notified by Harry that she would be returning home much earlier than usual.
The closeness of her relationship with Kreacher now stood in stark contrast against how difficult it had been at the start.
She first met the House-Elf when the Order of the Phoenix began using 12 Grimmauld Place as their headquarters for the Second Wizarding War. Kreacher had been less than pleased that not one, but two Mudbloods were comfortably roaming the halls of the Black family's ancestral home.
Kreacher's hostility seemed to have calmed when Iris, Harry, Ron, and Hermione had used the townhouse as a haven during their search for Voldemort's Horcruxes. Unfortunately, once he had learned that Iris was going to be moving in with Harry, his old prejudice had returned with full force.
"Mistress is rolling over in her grave. A Mudblood living in the ancestral home of the Noble House of Black." Kreacher had grumbled from the stairs as Iris brought what little luggage she had inside.
At the time, she didn't have the energy to do anything but laugh at the familiarity of his hatred.
"We'll be friends before you know it, Kreacher." She'd declared. "I'd bet my life on it."
Kreacher had mumbled curses under his breath and shuffled away.
That day, Iris had made it her mission to earn the House-Elf's respect.
It was rare that she cared enough to want to change the mind of any being that believed her to be of a lesser class of witch, but Kreacher intrigued her. She had an inkling that Kreacher had been alone for so long that he didn't know how to be anything but cold and cruel.
It had taken the entirety of her first year of living at 12 Grimmauld Place but Kreacher had warmed up to her and she considered it one of her greatest victories.
Her plan to win Kreacher over had started out with helping him clean on Sunday mornings, from a respectful distance per his request, and, about a month after she moved in, she'd gifted the House-Elf a pair of brown loafers.
After she'd handed Kreacher the box they were held in, he had promptly thrown the shoes back at her and retreated to the basement. That night she'd left the box by the basement door as a last-ditch effort and, surprisingly, Kreacher had appeared at the dining table the next morning with the loafers laced on.
The tide truly turned when the thought of offering Kreacher the old bedroom of Regulus Black came to her one evening. She pitched the idea to Harry, arguing that a House-Elf of Kreacher's age, or any House-Elf that matter, should not be forced to sleep in a basement.
Harry wasn't a fan of using his title as Master to command Kreacher, he didn't believe in other beings being forced to serve others and neither did Iris. However, the only way that Harry could get Kreacher to leave the small cabinet of a room he occupied in the basement was by demanding he do so.
Kreacher feigned resistance the entire trek up the stairs but once he crossed the threshold of Regulus' old bedroom, the House-Elf's body visibly relaxed at being in the atmosphere of the one he'd loved the most.
"Can I help you pack up some of Regulus things?" She'd asked cautiously. "And then we can sort out what you want to keep?"
"No." Kreacher had grumbled. "Kreacher wants to do it on his own."
Harry and Iris had only taken a couple steps into the corridor when Kreacher's voice stopped the pair in their tracks.
"Thank you, Mistress Iris."
She spun around at the sound of her name leaving Kreacher's lips and, when she met his eyes, for the first time she found warmth and acceptance. "Kreacher knows you were behind this kindness and Kreacher is very, very grateful."
Iris had been on the verge of tears.
It was first time he had ever thanked her, the first time he had ever called her Mistress. She wasn't exactly fond of the title, but it was a sign of respect and affection coming from the old-fashioned House-Elf.
That growth in their relationship was how she found out that Kreacher had an affinity for scotch. And, despite being a quarter of her size, the House-Elf could drink her under the table.
He must've been the one to throw the quilt around her shoulders.
She stretched her arms above her head and reveled in the pops and cracks of her bones before standing. She then folded the quilt and gently placed it back on the armchair before walking into the ensuite adjoined to her bedroom.
She flipped on the light and examined herself in the mirror.
She was wearing an old Quidditch sweater of Harry's and grey joggers. Her curly black hair that usually hung past her chest was tied in a bun, more tendrils escaping the hair tie than she would have preferred.
She borrowed more of Harry's old school sweaters than he could keep up with, and her hair, well, it was what it was.
It was the puffiness of her hazel eyes and the gleam of sweat on her brown skin that alluded to her rattled state of mind. She ran her finger over her bottom lip and hissed at the tenderness, it had swelled from the anxious gnawing that occurred whenever she drank too much.
"Bloody hell, Iris." She sighed.
Her stomach rumbled in response, a reminder that she'd barely had a bite to eat the entire day. She splashed some water on her face and wobbled her way to the stairs, realizing she was still a little drunk from her day-drinking excursion with Kreacher.
She had only just reached the second-floor landing when Harry's voice floated up from the kitchen.
"Kreacher are you drunk?" Harry asked, a strong hint of laughter within his voice.
"Kreacher does not understand Master's concern. Kreacher is sober. Kreacher heard Master return and wanted to cook dinner for Master, that is all. Kreacher is Master's humble servant." Kreacher hiccupped.
A loud crash followed.
"For the love of Merlin." Harry groaned.
Iris laughed loudly as she crossed the threshold into the kitchen and was greeted with the sight of destruction.
Kreacher had dropped a stack of plates, probably a set of Black family heirlooms, and Harry was standing over the shards of porcelain shaking his head.
"Did Kreacher do that? Kreacher is a bad House-Elf, and old. Very old." Kreacher glanced at the plates and hiccupped once more.
He must have continued drinking while Iris napped.
The hiccups were his tell.
"Bloody hell." Harry stormed away from the shards and towards the lit fireplace, but only to stop himself from laughing in Kreacher's face.
Iris snorted at the visible shaking of Harry's shoulders.
"Hello Mistress, did you enjoy your nap?" Kreacher asked, teetering as his lack of balance favored one side of his body over the other. "Kreacher knew Master Regulus' quilt would keep you warm."
Iris' heartstrings pulled. "Yes, Kreacher, thank you very much."
"Is this your doing?" Harry chuckled as he spun around to face her and motioned towards Kreacher. "Nice sweater, by the way. You must not be too put out if you're still stealing my clothes."
"We were taste testing the old scotch in the study and we may have gotten a little carried away." Iris folded her arms across her chest as she glared at Harry. "And my frustration with you Harry Potter has nothing to do with what I may or may not steal from your wardrobe.
Harry rolled his eyes playfully as Kreacher continued to hiccup loudly.
"Master, Kreacher only wanted to make Mistress feel better. Mistress looked pitiful when she returned from the Ministry." Kreacher nodded vigorously.
"Kreacher!" Iris scoffed. "I did not look pitiful."
"I have got to remember that leaving the two of you alone is like leaving First Years unattended in the Potions classroom." Harry snorted as he retrieved his wand from his trousers and cast Reparo on the shattered plates, floating the stack onto the chestnut dining table.
Iris opened her mouth to respond when a familiar drawl beat her to it.
"I excuse myself to the washroom and your house explodes, Potter." Draco appeared at the other end of the kitchen, exiting the hallway that led to the parlor and the bathroom beside it.
Goosebumps rose on Iris' arms at the sound of Draco's voice and she narrowed her eyes at Harry for not warning her that the Slytherin had already infiltrated their home.
"Hey, look, Malfoy's here." Harry laughed nervously and threw his hands in the air. "What a surprise."
"Mister Malfoy!" Kreacher gasped loudly before bowing to Draco, a sight that caused Iris' jaw to drop. "Kreacher is honored to be in the presence of a wizard with ties to the Noble House of Black. Mister Malfoy is the spitting image of Mistress Narcissa. Kreacher is in awe."
The amusement was clear on Draco's face. "It's nice to meet you, Kreacher."
He extended his hand and Kreacher looked on the edge of fainting before tightly gripping Draco's hand with his own.
Iris drifted to Harry's side, the warmth of the fireplace easing the tension in her back.
"Harry, please tell me that Malfoy is only here for a visit and he is not, in fact, moving in tonight." She hissed. "You only just informed me this morning that you're his mentor for Christ's sake."
"Today was his first day of training, which you would've witnessed if you hadn't drowned yourself in scotch, so yes he's moving in tonight." Harry whispered, sounding a bit agitated. "The Ministry wants Malfoy monitored at all times and the faster you accept it rather than fight it tooth and nail, the less painful this transition is going to be."
"Don't do that. Don't patronize me." Iris spat. "I know Malfoy living with us was the part of the deal you had to concede on, but I'm still allowed to feel as if my privacy is being violated."
Harry's brow furrowed at her accusation.
"I wasn't trying to—" He began to explain but was cut off abruptly by the disgruntled noises of Draco struggling to free his hand from Kreacher's steel grip.
Kreacher had yet to release Draco and the House-Elf was rapidly shaking the wizard's hand as he continued to express his gratitude for being given the opportunity to serve a member of the Black family once again.
The sight of Draco's struggle was enough to distract Iris from her agitation with Harry, the hilarity of the situation easing the tension that had filled the kitchen the second he'd entered.
With one last feigned smile and jerk of the arm, Draco freed himself from the House-Elf's grip and stumbled backwards into the dining table. He exhaled deeply, his eyes widening as he noticed Kreacher's attire for the first time. "Kreacher, how did you get your hands on an extra-extra-small Slytherin Quidditch sweater?"
Kreacher tugged on the emerald and silver sweater that hung past his knees which he'd matched with a pair of checkered black and white socks and his brown loafers.
A knit cap would've perfected the look, but Iris had yet to find one to fit his large ears.
"It was Master Regulus' sweater. Mistress Iris transfigured it and many others so they would fit Kreacher." The House-Elf glanced over at Iris doe eyed as he took a seat on one of the dining chairs. "Mistress takes care of old Kreacher."
"She sure does enjoy taking care of people." Draco smirked his eyes darting from Kreacher to Iris. "But I never let her and it drove her mad."
Iris' throat tightened anxiously at Draco's words.
"Care to repeat that?" She exclaimed as she took a step closer towards the Slytherin.
Harry's nervous laughter returned as he gripped her shoulder and placed himself between her and Draco. "Let's order food, Kreacher is in no state to cook and I am starving. Are you hungry?" He arched an eyebrow at Iris and her stomach rumbled once again at the mention of food.
"I'll take that as a yes." Harry bit back a genuine laugh. "Malfoy, what about you?"
"Famished." Draco grumbled with his eyes still trained on Iris.
"Okay." Harry eyed Iris and Draco suspiciously before backing away and retrieving his cellphone from his trousers.
Being raised by Muggles meant that Harry, Iris, and Hermione weren't so averse to ever advancing-technology as the rest of the Wizarding community.
"Can we get Greek? I'm dying for a gyro." Iris asked as she tore her eyes from Draco and found a seat by one of the armchairs near the fireplace.
"Yeah, yeah. Malfoy that good with you?"
Draco drifted closer towards Harry, passing a yawning Kreacher at the dining table. "I've eaten Muggle cooking once or twice, it was bland, but anything's bound to be better than what they served at Azkaban."
Iris' brow furrowed. She'd been waiting for a moan or groan from Draco about having to eat anything that wasn't a magically homecooked meal and his agreeability disturbed her.
"It's settled, I'll get you my usual." Harry said.
Iris stared at the fire and squeezed her legs up to her chest as she listened to Harry order from the Greek restaurant down the street. She could feel Draco's eyes on her, but she was content in her current ignorance of his existence.
"It'll be ready in thirty. I have to pop by Ginny's flat first and grab her and then I'll be back with the food." Harry said as he shoved his cellphone back into his trousers. "Iris, can you show Draco to the master on the second floor? I had Kreacher prepare it this morning."
"He can't find it on his own?"
"Iris." He pleaded.
At his tone, Iris' eyes darted towards Harry and her resolve melted as his green eyes pleaded with her to be civil.
"Fine." She sighed.
"Thank you." Harry smiled at her appreciatively. "Also, can one of you get Kreacher up to his room?" He asked as he exited the kitchen and strode down the entryway towards the front door. "He's going to wake up in the morning with a wicked neck-ache if someone doesn't move him. "
Iris glanced towards the House-Elf and threw her hand over her mouth to hold back a laugh.
Kreacher had passed out without any of them noticing. His face turned towards the ceiling, a line of drool trailing down his chin as his mouth hung wide open.
"It would also do you both some good to set some rules or boundaries!" Harry shouted over his shoulder. "Civility is all I ask for!"
The front door slammed shut and the weight of Harry's request pressed upon Iris' chest.
Aside from the presence of a sleeping Kreacher, she and Draco were alone for the first time since the Battle of Hogwarts.