Alicudi Harbour
15:30 PM
The gondola seemed to take an eternity to reach Kreacher and Leone, its prow slicing through the turquoise sea, leaving a line of ice-white foam in its wake. Besides him, Aeliana's body tensed, as at long last the vessel bumped against the side of a rough stone staircase.
Immediately, Enzo stepped down from his seat and into the shallow water that was lapping against the pebbled walls of the harbour, sending small plumes of mist into the warm afternoon air.
Looking up at Leone, he offered a greeting and proceeded with what Sirius assumed were pleasantries, while he tied the boat's mooring around an ancient rusted metal pole protruding from the water.
Sirius swallowed hard against the lump that had formed in his throat as he raised his eyes. However, the older man's gaze was on his sister, who gave Sirius a barely perceivable shake of the head before offering her hand to her brother and allowing him to escort her out of earshot.
He watched as they both sat down on a nearby bench and began an animated conversation, their hands moving rhythmically as they spoke in increasingly louder voices.
Shaking himself to avoid being caught gawking at them, he clambered inelegantly out of the gondola and onto the staircase. Turning to Enzo, who was still standing in the shallows, he steadied himself before talking.
'Thank you for a lovely afternoon,' he offered while inclining his head to the man, who stared at him, nonplussed.
'I mean, grazie,' he corrected, relishing the indescribable surge of joy he always felt when speaking any foreign language, however inexpertly.
Enzo smiled at him, his eyes crinkling as he responded with a simple, 'Prego.'
Sirius forced his face into a grin that slipped away once he turned towards the family servant, who had been scrutinising him.
'Master Sirius should not have gone off unescorted,' Kreacher groused, the millisecond that Sirius finally acknowledged his presence.
'We were hardly unescorted,' he gritted out, his temper rising for the umpteenth time since the start of the summer.
'The lowly fisherman ...' Kreacher began, before Sirius cut across him forcefully.
'Don't call him that,' Sirius yelled, stomping his foot against the sandstone paving stones, rage making his mind race and filling him with a desire to run and never stop.
'As master wishes,' Kreacher continued while glaring daggers at his young charge, 'But people may think you besmirched the lady's virtue.'
Sirius peeked over to where Leone and Aeliana were still deeply engaged in conversation, and anxiety roiled in his stomach. He was uncomfortably aware that any threat to her reputation might cause Leone to sign the contract to preserve the family's honour. Despite her dowry and, he grudgingly admitted her beauty, no decent family would take a girl perceived to have been sullied by him.
He paced in front of Kreacher, trying desperately to think of a way out of this predicament. The sea air no longer crisp, but a noxious miasma constricting his lungs and causing an odd tingling sensation to run like an electrical charge down his arm.
He had been so happy to enjoy a moment of freedom; he had conceivably thrown away both of theirs, and in his mind's eye, he saw their future unfurling.
They would marry at 20 and he would begin his training to take over the family affairs. He would become yet another pureblood patriarch, content to sit back and passively observe the outcome of the war, a carbon copy of both his father and his grandfather before him.
Aeliana's resentment at their forced union wove like a thread through his vision of the future, smothering all youthful joie d'vivre. Would she take a lover once she had provided him with an heir and a spare? An odd clawing began in the pit of his stomach as he imagined their cold, loveless marriage as she screamed insults at him, in a manner similar to his mother.
His thoughts spun wildly as he took a moment of solace, because fulfilling his duty would mean that Regulus would stop hating him. That perhaps being the perfect scion, however suffocating, might make his parents look at him with pride once more. That maybe he would be his mother's son again instead of her biggest disappointment. A brief image of her lovingly stroking his hair flashed across his mind as dizziness overtook him. The weight of the world pressed down on his chest and shoulders, a dark, amorphous cloud of despondency.
He should go over there and take the blame; say she had not dishonoured herself and that it had been entirely his oversight. That nothing had happened, and Enzo could vouch for that. Perhaps he could even argue that Enzo had been chaperoning in Kreacher's stead.
Steeling himself, he made a gesture to catch Leone's attention, and somewhat desperate to gauge the situation, he looked imploringly at Aeliana, who did not appear to be upset.
Leone, understanding Sirius's request, patted his sister on the arm, straightened the front of his dark toga-like robes and began to walk towards him. And as he approached, Sirius held his gaze as defiantly as he could, despite the pain in his chest that was now sending tremors through his limbs.
Clearing his throat, which prickled as though it was filled with thorns, Sirius said as earnestly as he could, 'I must offer sincere apologies for my oversight. I did not intend to call your sister's honour into question. This whole debacle was my fault.'
He swallowed but did not break eye contact with Leone. 'Nothing untoward happened between us and we were never alone, not even for a minute.'
His heart rate sped up, and he felt as if he was about to pass out. 'I am certain that Enzo can attest to that.' He gestured back towards the boat before shoving his hands deep into his pockets, clinging to the sides of his robes as was his habit when discombobulated.
The minutes stretched on with Sirius's heart slamming painfully against his ribcage. A breeze providing welcome relief to the sweat that had begun to trickle down his neck.
'Thank you for your apology.' Leone said at last while pressing a long-fingered hand to his chest. A universal gesture that indicated the settling of a feud between gentlemen.
'When I received word that your elf was standing in the harbour without his two charges, I admit I was angry.' An ominous shadow flickered across his face, and Sirius briefly wondered who had informed him of their movements.
'But Enzo the gondolier is a well-respected man who confirms that he stood in as a chaperone. And 'Liana has confirmed that you both conducted yourself appropriately and only left the elf behind at Enzo's insistence.'
Leone furrowed his brow, as a somewhat indulgent smile played around his lips before adding. 'She also insisted that she pressured you into the escapade and I am appreciative of how my sister can be wilful when she sets her mind on things.'
The weight that had pushed so strongly against his chest lifted and Sirius gulped down the briny air while a warm rush of gratitude for both Enzo and Aeliana replaced the darkness that had so held him. Steading himself as the world came back into focus, the yells of the fisherman filling his ears as though someone had pressed play on a muggle boom box.
'However, I would be remiss in my duties towards my sister if I do not say what I am about to.'
Sirius nodded, bracing himself for the type of sharp verbal assault that had become commonplace during his dealings with his own family.
'I am keenly aware of the pressures that being heir to an ancient lineage entails,' Leone said, breaking eye contact and staring into the distance while watching a violet-coloured Vespa lift into the air. Its riders yelling with joy as the engine accelerated.
'I understand,' Leone continued, while taking a slow deep breath, 'The appeal of freedom and adventure.'
At his words, a sense of kinship stirred in Sirius's heart and an odd sensation begin to build in his stomach. Thoughts of confessing his frustrations and his inner turmoil rose to the surface, like drowning men clamouring for desperate gasps of air. But before he could form a sentence, Leone carried on speaking.
'But while you are a guest in my house, I ask that as a gentleman, you prioritise my sister's honour above all else. She is very dear to me, and I do not wish to force her into a marriage.'
He had halted once more, looking over at the girl still seated on the bench with an undisguised fondness that made Sirius ache with a profound sense of loneliness. He could not remember the last time any member of his immediate family had looked at him with anything but anger or dissatisfaction and to his embarrassment, his eyes began to sting.
'Nor do I suppose you want a wife who had been coerced into being with you.' Leone finished while holding out his hand for Sirius to shake.
Florence, Tuscany
16:00 PM
After innumerable attempts, Regulus was satisfied that he had captured the raw grief of the Pietà in his drawing. The floor beside him was littered with crumpled pieces of parchment and his fingers were aching slightly from his effort.
He gazed reverentially at the statue as the serene and beautiful face of the Madonna, so expertly captured by the sculptor, evoked an exquisite sense of pathos within him.
He sighed contentedly and took a sip of an excellent Chianti, which had been delivered by yet another toga-clad elf, alongside a basket of soft cheese and bread. Allowing the deep tannic tang to coat his tongue as a warmth crept across his throat and chest.
As he contemplated moving to sit beside another statue, a crack filled the air, causing Regulus to start as Kreacher apparated to his side.
'Good afternoon, young master,' the elf croaked obsequiously, his long nose touching the granite floor as he bowed. 'I carry a missive from your father,' he stated while handing Regulus a small scroll of parchment sealed with the Black family crest.
For the attention of: Regulus Arcturus Black.
I request your presence at a late luncheon in Triora.
The elf will provide slide-along apparition.
Warm regards, Orion Arcturus Black.
Evaluating his charcoal-stained fingers and dusty robes with a slight sense of horror, he barked orders at the elf.
'I need to make myself presentable. Could you fetch me a clean robe and a cloth with which to wipe my hands?'
Kreacher seemed to hesitate before Regulus added, 'I am not in any state to present myself in public. Make haste and fetch my green robes, so we can be on our way
Triora, Liguria
4:10 PM
They apparated into an alcove of a small, cobbled square, surrounded by loggia painted in burnt Siena and filled with the soft cooing of doves who nested amongst the ancient stonework.
Regulus allowed Kreacher, glamoured to appear invisible to muggles, to guide him through the narrow streets. Flowers hung from window baskets, providing riotous pops of colour against the dark medieval stone of the building. And as they walked, Regulus found himself gulping down crisp mountain air, his calves burning with the steepness of the road.
As he stopped to mop sweat from his brow, a passing muggle couple stared at his attire, their derisive laughter echoing off the buildings as they passed him. He felt a prickle of indignation and an urge to draw his wand, as the straw-haired female continued to stare back at him with a smirk on her face. Thankfully a cooler head prevailed, after all muggle-baiting was above a young man of his station.
They continued their uphill climb stopping at a small wooden door with an ornate brass lion knocker at its centre, that Kreacher wrapped his spindly fingers around, producing a deep booming sound.
'I will leave master Regulus here,' the elf chirped, disapparating just as the door swung open and the muggle-repelling wards swept over Regulus like a gentle wave of water.
Passing through the door, he entered a small anteroom decorated in hand painted chinoiserie wallpaper, with a large Murano-glass chandelier hanging from the ceiling. The warm smell of baking bread washing over him as a woman emerged from the dining room beyond.
'Ah Signore Black, your father is expecting you,' she declared, looking at Regulus
Regulus fumbled through the memories of his Italian lessons. Lessons he had taken to have some peace from his brother, who preferred to learn German.
'Grazie,' he began, but before he could construct a more complex sentence, the woman was beckoning him forward.
Regulus found his gaze trailing over her back as he followed, her gold robes clinging to the curve of her hip in a way that made a warm flush creep over his lower body. He shook his head, lusting over a woman of uncertain blood-status who worked in trade, was not behaviour befitting of a Black.
Instead, he turned his attention to the spectacular view from the terraced dining room, as verdant mountain peaks covered in pine trees descended into a vineyard-covered valley.
Orion seated at the far end of the terrace was so occupied by the letter he was reading that he barely seemed to notice his son's approach.
'You are late, Regulus,' he said, folding the letter as Regulus hovered by his seat, feeling awkward. 'I sent the elf to fetch you at four o'clock sharp.' Orion reached into his robes, pulling out a gold fob before continuing. 'It is now twenty minutes past four.'
'My sincere apologies father, I was covered in charcoal, so I sent Kreacher to fetch me some clean robes as I did not want to appear disheveled.'
Orion cast his gaze over his son, before nodding his head in acknowledgment as he tucked both the letter and the watch into the pockets of his deep green robes.
'Very well, you may sit,' he said, waving his hand to the empty seat opposite him, his eyes sweeping over his son. 'At least the gold spent on etiquette training has worked on one of my spawn.'
Regulus experienced a small flush of pride at the statement, despite it not wholly being a compliment, and promptly sat down on the tawny velvet seat.
'I invited you here as I am keenly aware that your O.W.L.s. are approaching,' Orion stated, pausing while the woman poured Regulus a glass of pale-yellow Pigato wine while also summoning what appeared to be a cheese pie.
Cutting them each a slice using her wand, she informed them that it was a local delicacy known as 'Focaccia al Formaggio.' Orion nodded at this, his face a picture of polite indifference, before dismissing the woman with a wave of his ring-covered hand.
'It is imperative that we talk about your future Regulus,' Orion finally continued.
There was a slight pause, while Regulus washed the pie down with wine, savouring the interplay between the salty cheese and fruity wine.
'Especially now that we have a brief respite from our more highly strung family members,' Orion said his grey eyes twinkling with a rare mischief as he winked at his son.
'Of course, father,' Regulus said, returning the smile as his pulse quickened in anticipation. He had been dreaming of this moment for years, the endless possibilities chasing each other around his head as he replied with a simple, 'I am keen to hear both yours and grandfather's plans for me.'
Orion nodded returning his goblet to the table, 'Well, you will of course be expected to achieve both excellent OWL and NEWT results,' he paused and allowed Regulus to nod.
Orion's voice softened and he indulged in yet another smile, 'And in the meantime, we will procure you a wife from an excellent family.'
Regulus nodded once more, despite the desire to question his father bubbling inside him. The anticipation becoming almost intolerable as it caused his heart to beat uncomfortably fast. The moments seemed to stretch into infinity, as he silently willed his father to continue talking.
'As for your long-term future,' Orion began, once more pausing to eat as Regulus supressed the urge to throw a Sirius-esque tantrum.
'Your grandfather Arcturus and I, feel a Black is needed at Hogwarts. As in recent years, that school has allowed too many dangerous ideas to fester and corrupt children from pureblood families.'
His eyes pierced Regulus as they continued. 'You will help tamper the nonsense down and one day you will become headmaster.'
As his father finished, Regulus took a large gulp of his wine and almost spluttered as his thoughts chattered over each other.
Disappointment clanged through him, leaving a hollow feeling in his chest. He had been hoping to help with his family's political dealings. He had yearned to dedicate his life to something that would aide in bringing wizards out of hiding and help his family take their rightful place on the world stage. He had dreamed of the day when wizards could openly use magic and their superiority was acknowledged by all.
Annoyance rose in his chest, but determined to not act like his brother, he willed his emotions into check.
'Do you have any particular girls in mind for my wife?' He asked as mildly as he could.
Orion beamed at him, acknowledging the question as proof of Regulus's acquiescence.
'Well, once your brother's contract is ratified and his behaviour written off as youthful folly, you shall have your pick. I am certain that your grandfather will indulge your preferences.'
Regulus forced his cheeks into a polite smile while offering his thanks for his grandfather's beneficence. He highly doubted that he would have his pick. His brother's shenanigans had seen to that, and his father was being naïve to believe otherwise.
He took yet another sip of wine, nodding dutifully along with his father's diatribe about the afternoon's business dealing and trying desperately not to dwell on the image of his future.
A future where he was Professor Black, teaching half-witted mudbloods how to spell their own names and married to a harridan from some obscure family.
Meanwhile Sirius, despite still fraternising with Potter, sat on the Wizemgamot and International Federation, and returned home every night to his beautiful, well-connected wife.
Regulus scowled as the resentment towards his brother burned in his chest.
The Marcellus estate, Lazio
5:30 PM
Sirius lay on his bed and stared at the canopy, watching as dappled sunlight undulated across the ultramarine cloth.
His head pounding, as the afternoon's events replayed themselves on a loop. Images of Hippocampi and dark eyes, interplaying with the wild rush of freedom, the suffocating weight of anxiety, and the taste of sugar-laden pastries.
He felt as though a current was pulsating across his skin, a slipstream of restless energy that he longed to vent. However, it was still daylight so he couldn't transform into Padfoot and go for a run and Regulus had yet to return so he couldn't even provoke him into a fight.
He exhaled and abruptly pushed himself off the bed, summoning Kreacher as an idea struck him.
'Young master requires something of me?' The elf said upon apparating.
'Clearly,' Sirius retorted impatiently, chewing the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from launching into a diatribe at the elf. 'Escort me to the music room,' he replied brusquely.
'But master should be resting before the ball,' the elf countered in an equally curt tone, his lamp-like eyes sweeping over Sirius's messy hair.
'For once,' Sirius cried at the ceiling while throwing his hands into the air, 'Can't you all just let me make a decision by myself? Why is every fucking thing I do wrong?'
Sirius glowered at the elf, who looked back at him with faint distain, his eye twitching as he eventually bowed,
'As young master commands, but he will not blame Kreacher if he is too tired to comport himself correctly tonight.'
Dismissing Kreacher, the instant they arrived and ignoring the multiple lutes and violins hung on the wall, he tore across the music room towards the mahogany harpsichord at its centre.
His shoes scuffing on the wooden floor as he threw himself down onto the pink velvet stool, finally surrendered to the ache inside him and allowing his hands to translate his pain into a haunting sonata.
The melody flowed through him, thrumming through his very veins as his fingers moved rapidly across the ivory keys. The duality which battled inside him. His desire for freedom, his desire for acceptance and love, transforming into sound that filled the air around him.
The repeating thought of, 'Where do I belong?' screaming in his mind as he brought the piece to its towering crescendo.
'Where do I belong?' he screamed silently once more into the ether. But before he could articulate an answer, he became aware of a presence and looking up sharply, he locked eyes with Aeliana standing with Gigli at the opposite end of the room.
'I am so sorry; I did not mean to interrupt you.' She stammered, her cheeks flushing scarlett as Sirius stopped playing.
'You… are….. very talented,' she offered as a tension stretched between them,
Sirius, breathing hard as though having gone for a long run, did not reply but continued to stare at her, annoyance building inside him.
'I was coming to find you,' she said at last, while resolutely looking at a cello, propped up against the wall. 'We did not eat in Alicudi, and the ball will only have canapés.'
Sirius could see the rise and fall of her chest under her diaphanous silk robes, as she paced from one side of the room to the other, her jewelled slippers clacking against the floorboards.
Sighing, as she came to an abrupt stop, her dark eyes wide and doe-like as she locked them with his, 'Thank you for today,' she said her voice barely above a whisper. 'Thank you for telling the truth, many would not have.'
He stared back at her stonily and snorted his temper flaring, 'You set the bar for your gratitude too low.'
She tilted her head, studying him, before replying, 'I am aware that the whole escapade was my fault….so you are entitled to feel annoyed,' she swallowed, and Sirius noticed her hands trembling as she tucked a tendril of hair behind her ear. 'It was I who suggested we get a boat,' her voice cracked, and she whirled around quickly to hide her face.
'I do not set the bar for my gratitude too low,' She continued with her back completely turned to him, her voice sounding slightly distorted. 'I merely understand the appeal of my dowry, of my brother's connections and of my ancient name.' She proceeded, as her normally light accent became thicker. 'Many an ambitious boy would have taken full advantage of my foolhardiness this afternoon. Yet you did not.'
Spurred by burning sensation of guilt, Sirius crossed the room to where she stood, staring out of a window that looked over a yet another fountain. He lounged against the window frame, scanning his mind for comforting words and debating whether he should offer a consolatory pat on the arm. Conjuring a handkerchief, he handed it to her.
'You hardly kidnapped me.' He said fairly, 'So I guess I owe you a thanks for taking all the blame… if you hadn't my father would probably flail me alive.'
Her eyes widened in shock as she finally looked up at him, her tear-streaked face flushing.
'I'm exaggerating…' he countered soothingly, suppressing an urge to grin, 'But many an ambitious girl, would have taken advantage of my foolhardiness too.'
As the words left his mouth, he recalled an uncomfortable vignette from his family's annual yule party the previous December. Where after a fight with his grandfather he had been sent upstairs to his room. Only to find the 20-year-old Tallulah Rosier splayed across his bed in a state of complete undress. An aborted seduction attempt, similar in style to the one her aunt Druella had successfully used on his uncle Cygnus.
Shuddering as the memory faded, he reached out to pat Aeliana's shoulder, savouring the feel of her fine silk robe and the warmth that radiated from her skin beneath.
They locked eyes as the moment stretched on, an understanding settling between them, and Sirius felt an odd sense of comfort as he inhaled her peach and vanilla perfume.
'Gigli will unpack our food,' she said, her voice cutting through the static that seemed to fill the air. She turned from him and gave a command to her elf in Italian while simultaneously conjuring giant green silk pillows that rotated in middair, before falling to the ground in a series of soft thuds.
Within minutes Gigli had spread a picnic blanket with pink tea lights dotted around its edge and with a flourish produced a charcuterie board, several loaves of bread and a bottle of wine.
The smell of the food caused Sirius's stomach to rumble loudly as he jumped on a pillow and ripped open the nearest loaf and for awhile the room was silent except for the typical sounds of dining.
'Are you looking forward to meeting any friends tonight?' Aeliana asked softly between bites of cheese, 'A fair few Italian boys attend Hogwarts.'
Sirius shook his head, 'They aren't exactly my crowd,' he said before taking another bite of warm bread, its cloud like softness causing him a wave of pleasure.
'So you do not know anyone?' She asked, looking slightly nonplussed, 'That is strange considering how small our community is.'
Sirius felt the back of his neck heat as he shook his head. ' I'll know people…they're just not exactly my friends,' he replied, attempting to focus on his food and avoid a blush creeping up his face.
'Ah,' she declared knowingly, her eyes dancing with mirth as she looked across the picnic to him, 'Tell me who she is, and we can avoid her.'
'Simonetta Leopardi,' He replied before he could stop himself, biting his tongue the second the words left his mouth.
Aeliana threw back her head and laughed as Sirius scrambled to clarify,
'We…errmm…. never went out…..just a few … errm…kissses…she's a Hufflepuff…after a quidditch match…my mate James...'
Aeliana giggled, cutting across his stammering 'Leone and I, have a theory that she must have Veela ancestry.'
'She is very pretty,' he admitted, as his cheeks continued to heat under her unwavering gaze.
She smiled at him and with an exaggerated look of innocence, raised her glass in a mock toast,
'Here's to whatever personal crisis drove her into your arms.'
7:00 PM
The rest of the meal had been filled with banter and laughter, until Gigli ushered her away anxiously reminding her that she still needed to bathe and dress.
Gazing into her dressing table mirror she unfurled her ebony hair, allowing its heavy length to cascade down her back. Massaging her scalp, she closed her eyes as the image of him sat at the Harpsichord flickered across her mind, his handsome face so full of passion as he played.
She shook her head, ridding herself of the memory.
'Alea Iacta est,' she murmured to her reflection as she rose to answer the soft knock on her door.
End of Act One