.: Chapter Eleven: Blood is Not Thicker than Water :.
"We certainly can't pick our fathers, Mr. Palmer, but the real tragedy occurs when our father's do not pick us." – Dr. Donald 'Ducky' Mallard, NCIS.
Three Weeks Ago
Sirius had received two letters today, both owls dropping them on top of his breakfast in the Great Hall early that morning. Now, it was the end of the day and he was alone in his dormitory, trying in vain to complete some of his Transfiguration project. The two letters had been shoved into the depths of his school bag right after he'd snatched them off his eggs, and now they sat on his desk, yet to be opened. The stars were twinkling outside of Sirius's open window and he had goosebumps everywhere, but he didn't feel anything. He had expected one of these letters to come—he was actually surprised that it had taken months instead of days—but that delay didn't make him any more eager to read its contents.
Sirius threw down his quill, frustrated and unable to focus. He gave in and grabbed the two letters, situating himself on his bed and pulling the curtains to his four-poster closed. He knew which of the two letters he should open first, but he also knew which letter would likely be kinder to read. He held it in his hand for a full ten minutes, staring at the emblem of the Black family crest in the top corner and running his thumb along the edges before he worked up the courage and ripped it open.
Two things slid out onto his lap, one was a single sheet of paper and the other was something still enclosed in a smaller envelope.
He took a deep breath and folded open the piece of paper, smoothing it on his knee.
Sirius Orion Black, the opening line read.
I am writing on behalf of the Black family and their collective estate. Forgoing any preamble, you are hereby disowned. You, and your person, are to no longer be claimed by Mr. Orion and Walburga Black, and you will no longer be recognized as a member of the Black family. You are no longer welcome at Grimmauld Place or any property owned by the Black family. You are barred access to the Black Family vault at Gringotts Wizarding Bank, and no funds are being set up for your future. From now on, all correspondence will go through me, your family representative, Mr. Stanley P. Archibald. All direct links to the Black family are severed and traditional shunning shall begin at the documented date below.
::: Monday, 15 November 1976
Enclosed is a final letter from Mrs. Walburga Black.
Failure to adhere to these stipulations will result in consequences.
Sincerely,
Mr. Stanley P. Archibald
Sirius cringed at the formality of the letter. Who even spoke like that anymore? Sirius thought. Traditional Shunning? What the hell did that even mean?
Sirius gave a dark chuckle and wiped away a traitorous tear that had run down his cheek. He once again tried to steel his nerves so he could open the second envelope, hating that he knew his mother had written it to him. He didn't want to hear about how much she hated him, and how much she was disappointed in his choices. His name was written on the front of this letter too, in the looping scrawl of his mother's handwriting that he used to envy.
When he was young and still vying for his mother's love, she caught him practicing his letters in the study at Grimmauld Place. He had one of her handwritten notes open beside a blank sheet of parchment as he tried to copy her writing exactly—even trying to perfect the beautiful extra loop she added to her W's—so he could be more like her. She had sighed when he'd looked up at her— dropping the quill immediately and trying not to look like he was doing anything wrong (which he wasn't, but he never truly knew)—but then she'd just beckoned him to follow her into her room. For two months after that, she had allowed him to perch on her lap at her vanity whenever she applied her make-up or whenever she would be getting ready for bed, and she'd let him practice his letters with her. She was still a crotchety old bitch half the time, and she had slapped his knuckles with her make-up brush whenever he couldn't get it right, but it turned into the best part of the day. He'd even grown to look forward to it, and he'd sulk in the drawing room whenever she didn't invite him along.
Today, his handwriting was still extremely impressive, and it was habit to write in flowing cursive, but he sometimes took pains to write like a slob. It felt like it was a giant "fuck you" to his mother whenever he did that, even if he couldn't read his notes the next day and teachers sometimes made him rewrite his assignments. On the day that he wrote out every letter perfectly for the first time, instead of rapping his knuckles, she had affectionately smoothed back his hair and sent him to his room. Later that night, she had gifted him with a brand new green quilt, with his name embroidered in gold on the corner.
He pulled that green quilt out from his trunk now, before darting back behind his four-poster's curtains. The material was a little faded now, and some of the stitching had come loose from the 'O' in Orion, but he'd never been able to bring himself to discard it. It was one of the only things he had kept that represented his family—that and his signet ring—and it reminded him of a time before everything was fucked up. That blanket has lived in the bottom of his trunk since second year, hidden from all his friends.
He spread the quilt over his knees and tore open his mother's letter.
Sirius,
This will be the last letter that you ever receive from me. Even though it was ultimately your father's decision to disown you, I did not attempt to stop him nor did I wish to. We are a proud family, and do not take well to deviations from tradition. You deviated in more ways than one. From here on out, I will lay no claim to you and we will remain on separate sides of the same coin. You will no longer be a Black. You will no longer be my son. As our lawyer said, I cannot legally acknowledge you in any way beginning two days from now; however, seeing as how I transcribed this letter before the Fifteenth of November, you are still my son in this moment.
It may surprise you when I say it pained me to write this. You are my son. I birthed you and I brought you up under my tutelage, even if daily care was provided by a house-elf. Producing a male heir was all I was ever taught to do, and it was my only focus. Loving a child was, and is still not, something that I find myself capable of. I instilled the right teachings in your life, I provided you with anything you would need, and I strived to teach you everything that it meant to be a Black. It saddens me greatly that you actively find the humor in my teachings and believe anything other than the fact I always wanted the best for you and our family. You were always a smiling baby that I could never bring myself to discourage from playing with the silverware on the drawing room carpet.
I will miss you, my son, even if my actions have seemingly always spoken otherwise. I did try to treat you well, Sirius. You will thrive better outside the clutches of this family.
Sincerely,
Your mother, Walburga Black
Sirius had tears rolling down his cheeks in waves as he finished the letter, his finger lightly brushing over the extra loop on the 'W' of her name. There was more affection written in this letter than he had ever been gifted with in the past ten years. Walburga was always a serious person, and her stoicism had brought him to anger more than a few times. Her lack of emotion had always fascinated him before he'd known to fear it. She was a brutal woman, who cursed first and asked questions later. She was bigot. She cared more for a reputation than she did for a living breathing son, no matter what else this letter implied. But she was his mother.
Being privy to her thoughts and feelings had never been something that he'd been allowed. The only memory that comes to his mind of her exhibiting anything other than stoicism occurred when he was around five years old. He was small for his age, and this was before he'd perfected his letters, but he remembers it more vividly than any other childhood memory of his mother. He had been wandering through the house in search of the old cat they'd use to own, when he'd stumbled upon his mother in the wine cellar. She'd been crying and her back was resting against the far wall with her knees pulled up to her chest when he found her. The closer he'd gotten to her, the more unease he'd felt, but his small mind couldn't wrap around what he was seeing. He remembers crawling onto her lap and trying to see if his palms fit into the dark splotches on her neck, but she'd flinched away from him and his fingers were too small anyway.
He'd touched gently at the wet tracks on her cheeks, pressing his little hands to her face and not quite understanding what was going on. He remembers looking at his damp fingers, marveling at the fact that it was his mother's tears coating his fingers. He remembers being terrified, and his own eyes filling with tears. When he'd reached out to touch his own wet checks, his eyes blown wide, his lower lip began to tremble. She had only begun to sob harder after that, and she crushed him to her chest—pressing her tear-stained cheek to the top of his black curls and digging her nails into his robes. They had sat there until he'd fallen asleep, maybe even long after that, and it was the only memory he had of falling asleep in his mother's arms. He'd awoke the next day tucked into his bed, the gray-haired cat resting near his feet.
As much as Sirius hated and resented his mother, she was still his mother and he missed the idea of her. He sometimes wished that he was still that small boy that was privy to his mother's affections.
Sirius was sobbing in earnest now, but he immediately tried to hold it back when he heard the door to the dormitory creek open. He flung a hand over his mouth to muffle his breathing so whoever it was wouldn't know he'd been crying.
"Sirius?" Remus called, his voice tentative. Sirius closed his eyes because he knew then that Remus had already heard him.
"Yeah?" he croaked, sniffing and rubbing the back of his hand harshly across his cheeks.
"Can I—uh… can I sit with you?" Remus asked, closer to Sirius's bed than he was before but not pulling back the curtains.
"Yeah, just—uh, give me a second," Sirius responded. He hastily wiped his face down with the hem of his t-shirt and stuffed everything back into the envelope before shoving it under his pillow. He tried to settle himself a little, but knew it wasn't likely so he resignedly pulled back the hangings on his four-poster.
"Hey, Moony," Sirius said, trying to smile. "I was just coming down to meet with you guys. I can–"
"Shh," Remus soothed as he sat down. "I sent them off, told them to bother someone else for a while."
Sirius was just staring at Remus, knowing the pathetic evidence of the past half hour was written plainly across his face and hating himself a little for it. Remus started to mess with the pillows on Sirius's bed, and Sirius eyed him warily as he settled up against the headboard and stretched out his (very long) legs. Sirius was still sitting cross-legged, perched as far away from his friend as he could. He could feel Remus's eyes on him, but he continued to stare fixedly at his lap, fiddling with a corner of the quilt that he'd yet to let go of.
"Would you like to talk about it?" Remus asked quietly. At Sirius's shrug he spoke again. "Or would you like for me to just sit here with you?"
Sirius shrugged again.
"Do you want me to leave you alone?"
"No" Sirius whispered immediately.
"Okay," Remus said just as quietly.
Remus always made things better, and Sirius loved that about him. Sometimes just knowing that Remus wouldn't force him to talk, like James sometimes did, settled him when he walked into the dormitory after a long day. When he sniffled again, Remus gripped his shoulder hard and then pulled him into a hug a moment later.
Sirius was all cried out, especially since he wasn't a person who cried in the first place, so he just breathed, soaking in Remus's scent.
"Remus," he said into the crook of his neck, hating how small his voice sounded.
"I know," Remus murmured back.
Before Sirius could process it, Remus had pulled him back against the headboard with him, still holding him tightly. Sirius tensed because they didn't do this. They didn't cuddle on dorm beds no matter how much Sirius might want them to sometimes. Sirius lifted his head and furrowed his brow. This wasn't fair because Remus didn't know that he preferred men, and Sirius hated the thought that his friend might've been comforting him differently if he knew. He began to push himself out of the embrace, not wanting to lead himself on only for it to hurt worse later when it was confirmed that Remus didn't feel the same way.
"What are–" he began to ask.
"Just go with it," Remus replied, pushing his head back down. "We can dissect it later."
Sirius wasn't going to argue too much, considering this was high on his list of 'wants', so he just let out his breath and adjusted his knees, acutely aware of the warmth of Remus's legs against his. He twisted a hand into Remus's worn t-shirt, the green quilt now pressed tightly between their torsos. He closed his eyes. He wasn't sure how long they'd been lying there when Remus's thumb started swiping back and forth across his shoulder blade. It was comforting. Everything about this was comforting. From Remus's smell, to the way his chest rose steadily with each breath… it all felt right to Sirius and he could feel the tension eking out of his body.
Remus's arm slid to encircle his waist, and when Sirius felt his scarred hand rest easily on the curve of his hip, he had to remind himself to keep breathing. He kept his eyes closed knowing that if Remus were to look into them right now, all these words would come blabbing out of his mouth.
"I've been disowned," Sirius finally said. "I just read through everything they sent me."
"Oh, Sirius," he breathed. "I'm sorry."
Sirius couldn't help but scoff. "I'm not sorry."
Remus just hummed and Sirius felt the vibration of the sound throughout his whole body.
"What?" Sirius questioned, propping himself on his elbow and looking down at Remus. Regretfully, he felt Remus's hand slide from his hip, but at least Remus didn't move away—their legs still slightly overlapping.
"Nothing," Remus assured.
"I didn't want to be a Black anymore, Moony," he said, indignant. "I'm not sorry about this at all, and I'm glad I left!"
"Just because you're glad you're no longer a Black, doesn't mean that this doesn't suck for you. It doesn't mean that you don't wish it were different," Remus reasoned.
Sirius felt like yelling all of a sudden, but he was so conscious of popping the little bubble they'd fallen into that he just grit his teeth instead. He was sitting up fully now and Remus had moved too, pulling his legs to his chest and resting his chin on them. It looked like the moment had already been popped.
Sirius watched Remus's eyes slide to the other letter that had yet to be opened. It was crumpled and almost lost under the fold of the duvet, but Sirius snatched it, having almost completely forgotten that he'd received two letters. Reasoning he couldn't feel anymore shitty about himself than he already did, he opened it. It was only three lines, telling him a time, a date and place. It was signed by his cousin Andromeda.
He furrowed his brow and shoved the letter into Remus's chest.
"This is tomorrow," Remus informed. "When we're supposed to be in Hogsmeade. What do you think it means?"
"Well she's one of the only other people to be disowned by the Black family so take it from there," Sirius shrugged.
"How does she know already?" Remus asked.
"My dad probably put an add in the bloody Prophet," Sirius replied bitingly. He began gesturing with his hands. "I can see the headline now: 'Family Now Free of Their Disappointment, Looking for a Suitable Replacement: Mudbloods need not apply'."
"You did not just say that word?" Remus asked disappointingly, a hint of anger seeping into his tone.
"Sorry," he mumbled, impossibly feeling even more shitty. "I didn't mean it."
"I know. Are you going to meet her tomorrow then?"
Sirius sighed. "Yeah, I guess. Can you not tell anyone though? About Andromeda I mean, not the disowning part. I'd actually prefer if you could tell the guys about the disowning part. Lily too since she'd skin me if she knew she didn't find out immediately."
Remus nodded once and rested his hand on Sirius's knee for three seconds (who's counting?) before he stood to go to his own bed.
.:..:.
Sirius hadn't seen his favorite cousin since his first year at Hogwarts when she herself had been disowned by her father. They had something in common now. At least, that's what he told himself as he was walking down High Street in Hogsmeade to the location she'd specified in her abrupt letter. He was alone today, and it was weird passing Zonko's Joke Shop without entering it.
He finally spotted a woman in the distance, leaning against the side of the building in a brown traveling cloak. She was very petite and the soft brown ringlets of her hair were blowing in the wind, catching glints of the early morning sunlight. Her hands were stuffed deep into her pockets and as he neared her, he could see the gentleness in her eyes. This was the only thing about her outward appearance that differed from her sister Bellatrix. He came to a stop a few feet in front of her, but stayed silent, not knowing what to say.
"Hello, Sirius," she said, her aristocratic accent exactly like his.
"Hello," he replied. Sirius feared the stilted and awkward small talk that was sure to follow. "It's nice to see you, Andromeda. It's been a while, but you look good."
"I am good, thank you." She smiled. "I'm sorry to hear about what happened. I know it's not easy, but I think you'll be better for it."
Sirius just nodded, recalling his mother's words: 'You will thrive better outside the clutches of this family.'
"Are you ready to go?" she asked.
"Go?"
"Yes, I'd thought we'd talk back at my home," she answered. "I thought if I showed you what my life is like, you'd feel less wary of your current situation."
He stayed silent but stepped towards her when she offered him her arm. "Try not to vomit all over me, now," she said.
Not a second later, her arm twisted away from him and his body followed it. There was the horrible sensation of compression and breathlessness before his feet landed back on solid ground. He managed to stay upright, but only barely—he had no idea how he was going to learn to Apparate. He was lightheaded and he had to take a second to compose himself, hands braced firmly on his knees, before straightening out.
In front of him stood a quaint little house that looked as though a rainbow had thrown up all over it. Every part of the house was a different color—from the blue door, to the pink shutters, to the yellow front porch steps, and finally the assortment of greens painted on the fence row. There were crumbling vines clinging to the brick, and he let a laugh escape him when he saw that each individual brick was painted a different color. The garden along the side of the house was overgrown and dead because of the cold, but he could almost picture the amount of blooming flowers that would occupy it during the warmer months.
Immediately, he loved everything about this place.
"This is brilliant," he stated.
"Do you really think so?" She sounded skeptical. "My daughter can never decide on a color so she talked her father into literally all of them. I find it endearingly obnoxious, but she's got him wrapped around her little finger."
"You have a daughter?" he asked. "I didn't know that."
The smile she gave him then was the softest he'd seen yet. "Why don't you come in?"
He smiled this time too. "I'd love to."
The inside of his cousin's house was much calmer than the outside, the colors all soft pastels. There was the scent of jasmine in the air that made Sirius bite his lip. Everything about this space screamed 'I am a home! There is love here!' There was a small table shoved against one wall with three wooden chairs surrounding it. A small vase full of yellow flowers sat in the middle of it. A spotless kitchen counter wrapped around the wall opposite him, and his eyes snagged on a tall white cabinet that was emitting a whirring sound.
"What's that?" he couldn't help asking.
"That," she said, taking off her cloak and scarf and hanging them on a peg in the wall, "is called a refrigerator."
"What does it do?" he asked, scrunching his nose. "Why is it making noise?"
"Well, we've got electricity here," Andromeda informed. "Ted's a Muggleborn and he couldn't seem to let the telly go when we moved in together. A refrigerator is basically a cooling cabinet that's not magical, keeps our food and drink chilled."
"Telly?" Sirius asked. He was feeling more confused by the second.
"It's a box that plays moving pictures on it," she explained patiently. "It tells a story. I've grown rather fond of it actually."
"Do you have to buy a new box if you want to see a different story?"
"No." She laughed. "It shows all kinds of things. You really should have taken a Muggle Studies class at school, or gone out more."
"My parents wouldn't let me take it," Sirius grumbled. "I was still listening to them at the beginning of third year when we picked new classes."
After removing his coat and clunky boots, he sat down at the table, not sure what else to do with himself. He watched Andromeda bustle around the kitchen and set a kettle to boil. She pulled a clumsily wrapped container from the refrigerator and mumbled to herself.
"Well, I did have some pudding biscuits made, but it seems that they were attacked in the middle of the night by my husband. I reckon there are still enough left to last us till lunch."
Her strange commentary continued while she worked through the kitchen. She talked about the weather, about the book she was reading, about Ted and the daughter she still hadn't mentioned by name. The constant changes in topic were sending him spinning. He was grateful when she finally set the tea tray down and sat across from him.
"Do you have any questions for me?" she asked.
"Do you always talk this much?" he asked.
"Yes," she said simply. "Do you have any real questions for me?"
He looked down to his hands and pressed his nail into the table. He was still processing the bomb that had been dropped on him last night and he wasn't quite sure what he wanted to know—what he needed to know.
"I do," he said, looking sheepishly down to his hands, "but I've no idea how I'm supposed to go about it."
"That's fair enough." She nodded. "Do you want to hear what I did after I got my letter?"
He knew she wasn't talking about her Hogwarts letter like so many other people do. It was strange that the situation he was in could be referred to so simply. He nodded his consent, finally looking at her again.
"Well," she began. "I had just finished my seventh year at Hogwarts, like, two weeks beforehand, when I'd finally decided what I was going to do. I didn't tell anyone about it, especially not Ted. I went home and brought my parents into the study and I told them that I was going to marry Theodore. I knew they wouldn't take it well, but I wanted to try and keep a relationship anyway. My mother was completely silent after I broke the news, and my father had stormed out halfway through my explanation. Apparently both of my sisters had been listening through the keyhole because before I left that night, they both confronted me about what I'd said. Bellatrix yelled herself hoarse at me, and Narcissa gave me a hug—she knew that I wouldn't be seeing her again. Narcissa was always the strong and steady sister."
Sirius saw real sadness in her eyes then and it stayed there as she continued. The tone of her voice never changed, though, and her eyes stayed devoid of tears. She'd had time to process the choice she'd made, and she was obviously a very strong woman.
"I went straight to Ted's flat afterwards and told him what I'd done," she began again. "He was so angry with me. He was afraid that I was going to get myself killed for him, but I just kept telling him that our love was worth it to me and that he was being a little dramatic."
Sirius snorted.
"Hey, I said a little dramatic, didn't I?" She chuckled. "Anyway, the next day, we were at his parents' house. We were telling them that we were planning to get married, and that we wanted it to be a Muggle ceremony. I wanted Ted's entire family to be able to come, mostly because I knew none of mine would."
She took a deep breath.
"That's when the owl showed up. I knew it was my father's owl as soon as I saw it, and I was resigned to the fact that the contents of that envelope were going to be the last time I'd ever hear from my family. It was still hard opening it, especially in front of Ted and his parents, but I had to know for sure. I couldn't have waited even if I truly needed to. I had to read it through twice, though, to make sure it was real and I wasn't hallucinating. I knew I must have gone completely pale because Ted was leading me to the couch and his parents were huddled worriedly on the other sofa. He had to ask me a few times what had happened before I told him.
"The only thing I could think to say was 'I'm free.' I had just been completely disowned and cutoff, but I was so relieved that my family wouldn't bother us, and that we could be together without anything bad happening because of my parents. I snogged him silly right there in his parents' living room. His mum and dad were so confused." She laughed.
"What did you do then?" Sirius asked.
"Well, both Ted and his parents read the letter because I wasn't making much sense, but then Ted and I just went home." She shrugged. "I knew that I would miss my sisters, and that I'd likely broken my mother's heart, but I also knew that I could plan without fear of the future now. Ted and I got married that same summer."
Sirius envied the wistful smile on her face.
"Both of us had to work like dogs for two years after that, though. We had no money, you see," she explained. "Ted was lucky though, and he managed to make some major jumps in his career that first year, and soon enough I was able to take on less hours. We could finally start a family like we'd always wanted. Nymphadora was born in August of '73."
"Nymphadora?" he asked.
"Yes." She nodded, unfazed by his incredulousness. "My daughter."
"Why in Merlin's name would you give a child a name like that?" He laughed.
Andromeda smiled as if she was asked this question a lot. "Nymphadora means "Gift of Nymphs" or "Gift of Elves", which ever one tickles your fancy. She's a Metamorphmagus, so she can change her appearance at will and this plays into some old folklore that Ted and his family come from. It says that fairies used to take children and leave one of their own in its place. That imposter child was called a changeling. We knew that she was a blessing. It's hard for Pureblood women to get pregnant sometimes—it's a result of the inbreeding that goes on in the ancient wizarding families. It doesn't happen to everyone, but it happened to me. When Nymphadora was finally here, and her hair changed from brown to black to white in the span of fifteen seconds, we knew what to name her."
"Where are she and Ted right now?" Sirius asked. "I'd like to meet them."
"They should actually be home any minute," Andromeda said.
As Andromeda continued talking , Sirius noticed how much her demeanor changed as she talked about her family. Her face lit up and her hand gestures got grander, reminding him a little of James. She started moving around the kitchen again, wiping down counters that were already spotless and straightening the now clean tea tray.
Just when her chatter was getting to him again, the front door opened and a young man stumbled over the threshold, a small child hanging upside down in his arms.
The child, who was obviously Nymphadora, had bright yellow hair that was long enough for her father to trip over. She was giggling like a maniac and not the slightest bit fazed that her father might accidently drop her on her head at any moment. She was completely adorable. The man wasn't too bad looking himself, either. Sirius had always had a thing for scars and there was a decent sized one wrapping around the man's collarbone and neck. He had dark hair, and a fair amount of scruff leading Sirius to believe shaving is the last thing that's usually on his mind.
It only took a few seconds for Nymphadora to spot Sirius sitting there. She stopped laughing and began squirming even worse in Theodore's arms, demanding to be "Down! Down! Down!" He flipped her right-side up and blew a raspberry into her cheek before setting her down and winding her insanely long hair around his hand. He was tugged around the room by his hold on her hair and she decided that Sirius was her next stop on the list after she'd twined her hair around her mother's knees and touched all the handles on the lower cabinets around the kitchen. She was openly curious and when she reached Sirius she put her hands in the air and said, "Up!" in a surprisingly forceful voice.
Having never held a small child in his life, Sirius used the excuse of shaking Theodore's hand to avoid the girl.
"You must be the handsome Theodore that my cousin has been droning on about for the last twenty minutes," Sirius said, offering his hand.
"Please," the man responded, his voice deep and calming, "call me Ted."
"Up!" Nymphadora said again, this time slapping her small hands against Sirius's knees.
Andromeda approached Ted then, gave him a lingering kiss, and then swooped in to pick up her daughter.
"Sorry," she said to Sirius. "She's never been afraid of anything, this one. Always wants to make friends with new people. Last week she asked the bagger at the market to pick her up."
"I take it she likes to be held." Sirius laughed, sitting back down.
"Well, she actually likes to touch people's faces. She tells us that she wants to 'be everybody' so she tries to look like the new person. She usually only manages to change her skin tone and hair color, but that's why it's hard to take her to Muggle places."
"This morning," Ted began, the biggest grin on his face, "we were looking at a picture book about a Muggle princess with long hair that lived in a tower. And then," gesturing to the hair still wrapped around his hand, "this is what she decided to do today."
"And I thought raising a normal child was hard," Sirius said. As Sirius watched the little girl, she watched him back, tilting her head and pursing her lips. He smiled and instantly—way quicker than he expected—her hair color changed to jet-black and rocketed back into her head. The end result looked exactly like his.
Sirius laughed. "I wish I could change myself so easily."
He was surprised when the gentleness was gone from Andromeda's eyes and was replaced with resolute fierceness. It was a startling expression to see on her face because she looked so much like Bellatrix in that moment that he just blinked stupidly at her.
"Do not try and change yourself," she scolded. "There's already no chance that they'll take you back, so you might as well be unapologetically you."
Today, Monday 6th December 1976
"All we have left to do is finish writing out the theory," Marlene informed. "And then we—Sirius? Are you even listening to me?"
Sirius jerked, accidently hitting the cup of tea in front of him and only narrowly avoiding ruining their entire Transfiguration project. "Shit, sorry Marls," he exclaimed. Marlene leaned her head on her hand and looked at him funny.
People have been looking at him like that for a while now, ever since he'd arrived back at school after curfew the day of the Hogsmeade visit. He'd only stayed at Andromeda's for another hour or two before he'd gone straight to the Leaky Cauldron via the Floo Network in the Tonks's household. As soon as he'd arrived, he'd downed four Firewhiskey shots in quick succession (ignoring the fact that he had to swipe them from drunk patrons). He'd hobbled across town, getting yelled at by more than one person, in search of the familiar street that would lead him to Donald's pub. Donald had chastised him thoroughly for showing up half-cocked on cheap whiskey and cigarettes before patting him on the back and feeding him a hot meal. Donald had walked him back to the Leaky Cauldron himself so he could return to Hogsmeade and make his way up to the school.
The detentions he'd had to serve for that escapade didn't bode well for his already crappy mood, and he had almost pleaded with McGonagall to give him a break, but his pride had won out. When he'd finally told his friends that he'd been disowned, the looks had gotten worse and Sirius was a sick of them. He knew that he's been unusually quiet these past weeks, but he couldn't help it. He had almost been okay, or at least back to the place he wanted to be, when that damned letter had arrived and knocked his psyche right back off its tracks. His energy level had been at an all time low and his time with the guys had been lacking; if it weren't for Quidditch, he'd likely only see James in class or at mealtimes. He surprisingly spends most of his time with Lily because she lets him sit in silence, and doesn't ask him questions.
She and Remus are alike in that respect, but Remus had been avoiding him since the night of the Hogsmeade visit. Sirius had walked into the common room, fresh from a scolding in McGonagall's office, and found Remus alone on the sofa. This wasn't unusual in and of itself because Remus often had trouble sleeping, and reading in the common room was a multi-weekly occurrence. It was weird, though, when Remus sat ramrod straight and said in a low voice, "You smell."
Sirius had groaned. "I know, and I'm already regretting the drinks. You don't need to lecture me."
But Remus had gotten up and crowded Sirius against the back of the couch before Sirius had even blinked. Remus's eyes had been wide and Sirius had watched him warily, not having a clue what was going on and wondering if he'd actually started dreaming. Remus had then dipped his head and breathed deeply into the crook of Sirius's neck.
"Remus? What are you–" Sirius had begun, but he'd cut himself off to hold back a groan when Remus ran his nose up the length of Sirius's neck, settling right by his ear. Remus was so close that his breath sent goosebumps down his spine as it washed over his ear, his lips so close to his skin that Sirius felt the whisper of their touch.
Sirius held the edge of the couch in a vice grip, scared that if he moved he'd break whatever spell Remus had fallen under. As it was, Remus jerked back a few seconds later, mumbled, "You smell nice," before high tailing it up to the dormitory. He'd been in such a hurry that he'd left both his book and his slippers behind. Sirius remembers picking them up in a haze and trudging after Remus up the stairs. Remus was firmly behind his curtains when Sirius had stumbled in, and his friend hadn't looked at him properly since. This had sent Sirius spinning because Remus had either found out about his… secret and was teasing him about it, or he was just being particularly annoying.
It could be worse, though, because most of his time seemed to be dedicated to schoolwork and he'd spent almost every night this week in the library with Marlene, agonizing over Transfiguration spells. He didn't have much time to dwell on other things.
He was tired.
"I heard most of what you said," he lied. "What was it we have left?"
"The theory," Marlene repeated slowly. She began talking again.
Sirius closed his eyes and tried to listen.
.:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:.
James was walking down the corridor towards the Hufflepuff common room with Hestia Jones when it happened. He wouldn't have known anything about it otherwise, and he'd have been just as surprised as the rest of the school when the rumors started to circulate the next morning. As it were, there was a scheduling conflict for the Quidditch pitch, and he's spent the last ten minutes arguing with Hestia, who was the Hufflepuff captain, trying to work out a way to fix it. When Hestia first stumbled over nothing, he had poked fun at her clumsiness and they'd both laughed. The second time she did it, she had to steady herself against the wall of the corridor. The smile had then slipped from her face.
"Hestia?" he murmured. He put his hands on her shoulders when the wall didn't seem to be enough support and she started swaying.
"I-I think that some-something's wrong," she stuttered, breathing heavily.
"Here, lean against the wall," James instructed, pushing her so her back was against the cool concrete. "Hestia, try to breathe and just tell me what's wrong so I can help."
"I can't—I can't see!" she insisted. "James, I can't see anything!"
"What?" he exclaimed, stunned. "What do you mean you can't see?"
She glared at him, or tried to glare at him. James knew she was well and truly blind when she looked directly over his shoulder and hissed, "What the fuck do you think I mean?"
She then leaned over and vomited all over his shoes.
.:..:.
James spent about an hour in the hospital wing keeping Hestia company while she stared at nothing. While he sat there, he witnessed what looked like half the Hufflepuff House stumble through the double doors of the hospital wing— most of them blank faced, pale, and supported by scared looking friends. Some students were worse off than others and were levitated into the room by frantic looking professors. There were only five or six that walked in on their own, claiming they could see light and blurry shapes. Eventually, Madam Pomfrey had shooed him out and instructed him to get some sleep.
He was moving sluggishly down the hall now, his footsteps dragging but quiet. Loud voices were carrying down the corridor, and James's natural curiosity overrode his immediate need to faceplant in his bed. He pulled his invisibility cloak over his head as soon as McGonagall and Dumbledore rounded the corner.
"Albus, you must see reason," McGonagall implored. She began fiddling with her spectacles. "Something needs to be done about all these attacks. Allowing them to pass by unacknowledged is complicit in the acts themselves."
"Nothing horrible will happen here while I am Headmaster of this school," Dumbledore stated calmly.
"Horrible things have already happened, Albus!" McGonagall said, and James was inclined to side with his favorite professor in this moment. McGonagall had pursed her lips and stopped suddenly in the corridor, forcing Dumbledore to do the same. Her eyes were pinched and her frustration about her inability to protect her students was evident in her expression.
"I think we should implement new security measures," McGonagall stated. She had taken a step back from Dumbledore and clasped her hands in front of her body.
Dumbledore cocked his head. "That would certainly cut down on wandering students, but I do not believe we are at that stage yet."
James took that as his cue to leave. McGonagall continued stressing her ideas about the security measures she wanted to implement just as James made it out of their line of sight. He didn't pull the cloak off, though, until he was standing in front of the Fat Lady. As he clambered into the common room, he was surprised to see there were still more than a few people crowded around the dying fire. It took him all of two seconds to realize that Lily was among the group of people and then he spotted Sirius and Remus squashed into an armchair, Peter lying on his stomach on the ground, and Emmeline with her arm around Mary's shoulders. Ailana had looked up at his entrance and she beckoned him over.
"What's wrong?" he asked, feeling like he'd already asked that question too many times today.
"Here, sit," Lily said, moving the pillow she was leaning against and making room next to her on the couch.
He sat wearily, all too conscious that no one had answered his question. One look at Mary's pale face and Lily's vice-like grip on the pillow in her lap told him enough. Everyone was eerily quiet and James knew why as soon as Mary started talking again.
"He just passed by me in the library and I knew. I knew that it was him," Mary whispered. "He smelled exactly as I remember—old cigarettes and nasty cologne."
James looked curiously over at Sirius, who was dramatically sprawled across the lap of Remus, and silently asked him what the hell was going on.
"Mary remembers who attacked her," Sirius said, shifting his position and causing Remus to bite his lip. James wouldn't want Sirius sitting on him either.
"Who?" he asked.
"Mulciber," Lily said from his left. She was sitting cross-legged now and her knee began bouncing against his thigh in agitation. "And I'm also guessing Avery, even if Mary doesn't remember seeing him. If you're looking for two blokes, and one of them is Mulciber, then the other is definitely Avery—you don't get one without the other."
Lily let out a small sigh, almost a contemplative noise, and was quiet again. She was staring blankly into the fire and the glow of it illuminated her face and hair. James was quickly running out of adjectives to describe her, but he thought she looked ethereal in this moment. Her hair was messy, half of it having fallen out of the knot that she usually pinned it in. One soft tendril was framing her face and James's hand twitched with the desire to push it behind her ear. He knew that she was aware of his stare because her fingers started tapping out a rhythm along the top of her knee.
She was a bundle of energy in this moment.
"You should go to Dumbledore first thing in the morning," Emmeline said. "I'll go with you."
Mary nodded. "I need to tell Simon, too. Having me remember who it is might jog his memory about it."
"You can tell him after," Lily said. "The important thing is that the professors know straight away."
"You're right." Mary sighed. "I'm going to bed. It's been a really long day."
At Mary's declaration everyone else began to follow her lead. Lily stayed where she was and buried her face in her hands. She was shaking a little, her knee returning to its bouncing rhythm. He couldn't not comfort her in this moment. He placed a hand on her back and rubbed slow circles along her spine. He felt more than heard a shuddering breath leave her. He didn't say anything, not wanting to remind her that he was the one sitting next to her.
"Gahh," she groaned, sitting up again. He drew his hand back quickly. She looked at him and smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. She placed a hand on his thigh and squeezed.
Breathe, he thought.
"I'll see you tomorrow in Defense, yeah?" she asked. He nodded dumbly. "Be my partner for practice?"
He smiled at her. "Anything for you, Lils."
this is one of, if not the one, chapter that i am most excited for y'all to read. i really, really loved how sirius's portion of this chapter turned out, and i enjoyed trying to humanize his mother a little. i hope i achieved a good balance between humanizing her and not erasing the fact that she was abusive towards sirius.
also, the wolfstar moments? *chef's kiss* i hope you guys think so too! i'm pleased with the soft moments they shared together in the dormitory, but my favorite wolfstar scene i've ever written is that common room scene. and i didn't even pull it out of my ass like i usually do: my wonderful beta, SiriuslyNeville, sent me a link to this video of a wolf going absolutely crazy when they got a whiff of something that smelled like jasmine. after she'd read that andromeda's house smelled like jasmine, she gave me the perfect idea of mixing up that scene in the common room. here's the link to the video if you're interested:
Wolfhavenintl/videos/1753873377994137/
lastly, peep me trying to add some plot with james's pov lol. 'till next time, my loves, and thanks for reading :))
