Best Laid Plans

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Part One: The Defence Association

Chapter Nine:

As Helena expects, Sirius is entirely unimpressed by the Dowager Countess' machinations. He resolves to meet with her as soon as possible in order that they might 'discuss' things, but in the meantime, he makes an effort to reassure Helena that she'll never be forced into a union she doesn't want, and although Helena wasn't particularly concerned in that regard, she nonetheless appreciates the reassurance.

"And how is Neville?"

Helena grimaces. "Not well."

Sirius frowns. "Remus hasn't said anything."

Despite Dumbledore's ridiculous edict, Remus - in his capacity as one of Neville's godfathers* - has maintained a particularly diligent correspondence with Neville throughout the Summer. He's also visited Lockvale Park every second weekend, provided his godson with company and extra-curricular training and an adult he can rely on beyond the Dowager Countess' overbearing influence, but indeed, he hasn't mentioned any particular concerns he might harbour.

But then again, Remus is discreet, and Neville's gotten quite adept at hiding things besides.

"Maybe Neville hasn't said anything?"

"Would Remus need verbal confirmation?" Sirius counters. He taps his nose pointedly, Helena shrugs her uncertainty, and Sirius exhales a weary sigh. "I guess I'll have to look into that."

Strictly speaking, he doesn't. Sirius' role in Neville's life is entirely informal, a quasi godparent in the absence of Helena's father. The Dowager Countess had depended on Sirius to teach Neville everything expected of him as a gentleman, Remus to teach him everything expected of him as a wizard, but Sirius has no legal authority over Neville, and the Dowager Countess has never let him forget it.

Regardless, Sirius still cares, and he's not about to leave Neville to struggle alone in the wake of Voldemort's resurrection. Not when it's evident that the Dowager Countess isn't providing her grandson with the support he needs.

"What will you do?"

"I'm uncertain at this point," Sirius replies, "Though if all else fails, I'll play the politics angle. Hopefully though, it doesn't come to that."

"That would definitely put a bee in her bonnet."

Sirius shrugs, indifferent. "I'll do what I must."

Sirius' tone is utterly uncompromising, and Helena is unsurprised. Sirius loves - unreservedly, unabashedly, unapologetically - and would stop at nothing - would burn the world, even - to protect and provide for those whom he cares about, and Neville is no exception.

Aunt Cassiopeia says it's the Black Madness given purpose. Aunt Narcissa and Andromeda disagree, and instead believe it's the love of a parent, ferocious and all-consuming.

It's the same kind of love that gave Frank and Alice Longbottom the strength to step between Voldemort and their 15 month old son, to ensure his future when their own was forfeit.

It's the same kind of love that gave James and Lily Potter the resolve to endure hours of torture at the end of Bellatrix, Rodolphus, Rabastan, and Barty's wands, to protect Helena with their bodies at the expense of their own minds.

It's beautiful and amazing and completely terrifying, and Helena is unsure she's ever loved anyone so deeply. SHe's not sure she even knows how to.

Helena smiles, serene. Sirius isn't her or Neville's father, but she has every faith in his ability to resolve the situation the Dowager Countess and Dumbledore have created.

"I'll look forward to the show."

Sirius' own smile is wry. "I'll try not to disappoint, then."

Helena rolls her eyes. Sirius is stubborn and proud, and he's not about to let himself get bested by a pair he's (not so secretly) dubbed the 'Old Hag' and the 'Old Goat', respectively. She argues as much, Sirius doesn't deny it, but neither of them pursue the matter further. It will be dealt with, and that is that.

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As soon as she is out of sight of Sirius' study, Helena is ambushed by the trio of Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. They are intent on learning all they can about Helena's visit to Lockvale Park, and in particular, about Neville and his wellbeing, and they are not about to wait around until Helena has the time and inclination to share that information with them.

"How did it go?" Hermione prods, "How is he? He must be so angry."

Helena frowns, and she wonders if Neville's friends know him at all. He's hardly the temperamental sort, more inclined to turn in on himself than to lash out at others. He's sad, bitter and disappointed and so very tired, but he's not angry. Not outwardly, anyway.

"Well, he's certainly not pleased with you," Helena replies, candid, "Other than that, I won't be breaking his confidence. I expect he's been let down by his friends enough, don't you?"

Hermione and Ron flinch, guilty, and Helena makes to continue on her way. She'd grown comfortable with and in the company of Neville's friends throughout the Summer, but her visit with Neville had ignited in her a well of protective fury for him, directed mostly at the people who had neglected him.

That aside, the last few hours have been rather draining for a variety of reasons, and all she wants is to retreat into the cellar, to wile away her afternoon with clay and quiet.

It's one of very few opportunities for peace she can find in Grimmauld Place.

"Is he courting you, then?" Ginny asks, undeterred by Helena's rebuke.

Helena doesn't pull a face, but it's a near thing. SHe's not unaware of Ginny Weasley's enduring infatuation with the Boy Who Lived - it has discomforted Neville for years - and she doesn't appreciate the question. Not only because it is none of the younger girl's business, but also because Ginny's unsubtle enquiry is entirely motivated by her own self-interests.

It would be petty not to answer though. Helena's not disappointed not to enter a courtship with Neville, and to avoid the question would suggest she is. Helena doesn't need that kind of scrutiny in her life, Neville doesn't either, and it's not as though Ginny won't find out, regardless. It's only a matter of time and opportunity.

"Thankfully, no, though his grandmother wishes he was."

"That was her doing?" Hermione asks, aghast. She has very decided opinions regarding the magical world's 'antiquated' notions of relationships and what have you, but it seems she's as interested as her friend, "How awful!"

Helena shrugs. "It's hardly terrible. A nuisance, more than anything. Nothing to worry about, anyway. It's sorted, and hopefully, it won't happen again. Was that everything?"

Without awaiting an answer, Helena excuses herself from their company, and makes her way to the cellar. It's cool inside, but dry, and after a long day, the solitude is entirely welcome.

It doesn't last nearly long enough.

-!- -#-

End Notes:

* In England, a child traditionally had three godparents. For girls, two godmothers and a godfather, for boys, two godfathers and a godmother. I'm not sure if this tradition remains to this day, but eh, artistic license.

-!- -#-

Author's Note: A bit of an early update, just because. It's a transitional chapter, but I hope you like it, anyway. Until next time, -t.