Disclaimer. I mean, really now. Must we do this again?
~*~*~*~
~Each has his past shut in him like the leaves of a book known to him by heart and his friends can only read the title. --Virginia Woolf~
Diana walked down the street, taking her detour. She decided to stop in a bookshop before starting her day. She always felt comfortable and at home in a bookshop. The whole aura of Paris consumed her, and she had felt more at home than she ever did. She loved the sights, the sounds, the language, and the blasé attitude that was free from worry or obligation. She looked around, picking up books here and there, stopping on a copy of the classic Great Expectations, her Dickens favourite, and translated so beautifully into French.
She stopped by the Austins, and the Steinbecks, and skimmed the poetry books and the novellas.
She was just about to walk out when she heard her name being called. That is, if 'baby' was her name. Then she remembered. The only thing she didn't like about Paris, were the Parisians themselves, particularly the men. Rude and pompous they were, with the air of being cool and collected, while swearing on their lives how rebellious they were. She didn't think they had anything to be rebellious of. They hadn't won a war, ever.
She smiled insincerely at the young man who had called her. He was tall and calm, as she knew he would be. He seemed to be letting his hair blow subtly in the wind, giving it that messy, windswept look. She gagged inside.
"Bon jour, cheri (Good day, darling.)" he said, and she hated him immediately.
"Bon jour." She said back, pretending to be in quite a hurry, and terribly uninterested.
"Where is a lovely woman like you going on this beautiful Sunday afternoon?" he said, lighting up a 100's cigarette.
"That is none of your concern, Sir." She said. "Au revoir (goodbye)"
"Wait, beautiful, wait, please." He begged, getting up from his spot. She was halfway down the block, but she stopped, reluctantly, and turned. "Merci (Thank you)." He said, catching up with her.
"What do you want?" she sighed, and crossed her arms.
"I was just wondering, are you an actress? " he asked. She rolled her eyes at him.
"Why do you ask?" she answered.
"Because…..you should be." he said, staring her up and down. "You're gorgeous."
She nodded and shook her head. "Au revoir." She said, and waved him away. This time, he didn't follow her. There were other women, and easier ones to get than that. She put on her sunglasses and walked towards the direction of her employment, her new employment. No training or battles or Death Eaters. It was how she liked it. It was simple, but not at all fulfilling. She remembered she was told to visit her aunt on the way home that evening. She would of course, if only for a further distraction and free food.
~*~
"What kind of trip?" Lily laughed as she let go of James' hand. "Where are you getting such ludicrous ideas?"
"I just thought, well, we need a vacation." He said, running his hands awkwardly through his hair.
Lily began to laugh hysterically at him. "A vacation? A vacation! Are you off your rocker? We can't take a vacation."
"Why not?" he asked, rather insulted. "We've earned it."
"Uh uh. You don't make up your mind that quickly Mr. Potter. Where did you think up such nonsense?" she said, taking his teacup and drinking out of it.
"Come on. We could go to, oh, I don't know…..perhaps Paris, for the weekend?" he said, giving her the most pathetic attempt at puppy dog eyes.
"Paris? For the weekend? Mm hmm, mm hmm. Have you gone insane? Why on earth would I want to go to Paris?"
"Can you keep your voice down? You echo, you know, especially when you whine." James said, irritably.
"We've been to Paris. I like it, but why?" she said, shaking her head irrationally and folding her arms.
"You know, Lil. I just figured, to stir things up again I would take a little weekend trip with you. No working, no training, just me and you, but noooo, that's impossible now, isn't it? Ugh, and you wonder why we have problems."
"James? You are not seriously guilting me into going to Paris with you, are you? Because, that would be absurd. And don't blame our problems on not taking vacations. We don't even have time to have this argument, let alone fly to Paris."
"We would take the train."
"Oh, come off it." she said, then paused to think. "You want to go to Paris to get away from everyone, don't you?" she said, shaking her head at him.
"Maybe." He said.
"Well, it's selfish."
"We deserve to be selfish." He said, and she nodded, acknowledging it.
"Yes. I suppose." She said, batting her eyelashes, sarcastically. "What do you want to do in Paris that we can't do here? That is, besides fuck in the Eiffel Tower."
"Lily!" he whispered loudly. "We are in a church." He said, shushing her, but liking the idea just the same.
"Oh, so now you care about religion." She chuckled.
"I never said that. But I can't help feeling like I've broken some rule in here. And that unsettling image above the alter is giving me chills. Can we leave now?"
"Yes, darling, we can leave." She said, patting his shoulder. "And that's Jesus Christ. He sees everything." She said, with a sinister whisper.
"Um, alright. Well J.C. better not be around when we're in Paris. He's not getting a free show."
"You are blasphemous." She said, shaking her head and readying herself to say goodbye to the others.
"Because infidelity wasn't enough." He whispered, but she was too far away to hear.
~*~
The doors of the Paris Opera House were opened and welcoming to the young woman who reluctantly shuffled inside. The door closed behind her automatically and she went right backstage of the monstrosity, where there were other stagehands and passers by who didn't even notice her. Her stockings itched in the heat of the place, and as she set her bag down she lifted up her dress and unclipped her garter.
"Hello, Diana. You're here, finally." a woman said, a little older than she, but not superior.
"Bonjour, Carlotta." She answered. "Anglais, s'il vous plait (English, please)." She said, as she kicked off her shoes.
The woman laughed. "Très bien.(Very well) Tired of us already, chéri?" she said, sitting daintily on a chair in front of the backstage mirror.
"I have a headache, if you don't mind." Diana answered, taking off her sunglasses and letting down her hair. She then cracked her neck.
"Don't we all, mon cher." Carlotta said. "Christine should be up in a minute or two. She needs her makeup done for the 2 o'clock show."
"Bien. (Fine)" Diana said. "Are the dancers here yet?"
"No, just the stage-hands, setting up the curtain. Oh, ma Belle, you look awful." She said, turning to look at her for the first time. "Out last night?"
"A bit." Diana said.
"Ugh, I am so glad I moved away from Wales when I did, or else I'd be a night kitten like you." She chuckled. "Très triste (very sad)."
"Mm." Diana said. "Where's your costume?"
"Hanging there. Bring it to me please, belle." Carlotta said, holding her hand out.
Diana went over to the adjacent rack and brought over her plus sized Diva gown. "Merci." She said, as she began changing, and practicing her vocals. Scales, librettos, arias….she practiced all of them in Diana's presence, while Diana did her makeup and her hair. The young woman, about five years younger than Diana, came up out of the lower levels and into the dressing rooms, and Diana thought her head was about to explode of she heard one more note.
"Oh, Bonjour Diana!" the young girl cried. She smiled warmly and Diana returned it. "Carlotta…..Marvellous!" she cried, looking at her in full costume, while Diana picked her teeth in the mirror with her nails.
"Sit down, child." Diana said. "Now, practice." she said, as the girl sat down in the chair next to her. "Un, deux, trios….(1, 2, 3)" Diana said, snapping her fingers.
Christine sighed. "Eet iz 'ard. (It's hard)" she said, slowly, trying to speak English. "Difficile (Difficult.)"
"So is life, dear, you must learn." Carlotta said, as she fixed her wig in the mirror, well aware the child didn't understand a word. Diana just smirked and started on the girl's makeup.
"So life is a difficult lesson, and now it has to be taught?" Diana said, smirking at Carlotta through the mirror.
"Precisely." Carlotta said, fashioning on her wig.
" Français, s'il vous plait (French, please)" Christine wailed, looking back and forth between the two women in confusion.
" I'm sorry, angel" Diana said, sweetly. "Would you like to talk?"
"Arabella told me you were married." Christine said, as if it had been on her tongue for some time.
"How do you know her?" Diana asked, and stopped what she was doing.
"She used to watch me as a girl. Isabel got her for me." She said, looking at herself in the mirror.
" I see." Diana said, annoyed.
"And I know you are not a widow." Christine said. "You don't act like one."
"Oh really? Oh, young one, what my aunt told you was wrong. She is a crazy old bat. She loves to tell her stories." She said, looking at her finished project. " Parfait. (Perfect.)" She muttered.
"You should go back to him." Christine said. Diana ignored her. "I would, if he loved me that much."
"You are young and foolish, child. Of course you would." Diana said.
After a minute of finishing touches, Christine began to laugh.
"Quoi? What?" Diana said, this time a bit angrily.
"Arabella also told me a funny thing. Maybe she is crazy."
" What was it?" Diana asked, rolling her eyes.
"Well…..now don't laugh. She told me you were……a witch!" Christine continued to laugh but stopped when she saw Diana was not laughing.
Diana started to usher her to the stage, ignoring her and hating her aunt at the same time. She turned Christine around for one last look, smiled, and said, in English, "Actually, that part was true."
~*~
Tic. Toc. Tic. Toc. Tic……it never ends. She will not go away, he thought. The kitchen was spotless now. There was no more mess, no more dirt, all there was around, was baron. The dishes were stocked neatly away in their cupboards, and the silverware was polished and organized. There was no noise, save the ticking of that insufferable clock. What time was it, anyway, he thought?
An empty Scotch bottle was overturned in front of him, empty. A glass with melted ice was planted firmly in his hand, but shaking it would not make a clinking noise to distract him. What did he need distraction from, he thought? His life was over, finished. Never again would he look into her brown eyes. Never would hear the sound of her tingling, seductive, and effervescent voice. She was hopelessly flawed, but perfectly so, if that made any sense at all.
An open book lay in front of him, unread, untouched until now. The only thing she left, for reasons unknown. Perhaps it was unconsciously forgotten. Perhaps it was deliberately forgotten. Either way there it was, leather bound with faded pages. A diary.
It was not magiked. It was not bewitched to talk back or to be sealed from eyes. It was plain, with scratchy, abrasive writing. Random in thought pattern, yet planned out concisely, like a story. No, more like letters to an old friend, or a parent. Good days, and bad ones. Starting from the day they were married, and ended before she was pregnant.
He drew the book nearer, and flipped the pages to somewhere in the middle. It was not dated, and he read with her voice in his head, imagining her state as she wrote.
How wonderful it is to be in love, and altogether so strange. Two months we have been married, and I am his world. How strikingly hilarious! I don't think myself worth enough to be someone's world, but yet I am. Isn't that the funniest thing? Sometimes I catch him staring at me, and I can't help but laugh. Sometimes he joins in my laughter, and I get that feeling. You know that feeling, don't you Mama? It's butterflies and hunger, when you can't stop smiling, and a simple kiss is rapture. I love him so much, and have so for years. I just don't think I ever acknowledged it. The first time he kissed me was when I was mourning the death of you and Daddy. I was so confused, yet so complete. He sits there now, and drinks his tea, reading his paper, sneaking a glance at me again. Maybe it's to make sure I don't run away. He fears for me still, but I can never go back there again. It still hurts, but he makes me want to live. Sirius makes me strong, and I am me with him. I am who I remember. I have hope again. I am home. I am where I hope to be forever. I trust him, and I will not run away. He is all that I need. He doesn't know how he's changed me. He has given me life. He has restored it. He is my home, and I will stay with him. I love being wanted. I love being loved without a price. His hands are warm and soft, and he looks at me like I am the only woman in the world. I wish he could know my love for him. I wish he could see that my life without him would be death. But he doesn't see. Maybe he never will. But that's alright, for now. My demons are buried for the time being. My dreams of him have come true, finally. I did not think they would. The world, I see is full of happiness. Full of grace and beauty. It's like the Paris I remember, but will never see again. It is no longer in my mind. I'm not crazy anymore. And maybe, for once, there is a God.
Wacko, he thought. Who writes to their dead mother? I sure as hell wouldn't. She was happy with me though, he thought. She loved me. I did know that. She remembered that kiss. She remembered how I looked at her. I never stopped looking at her, loving her, he thought, tragically. More importantly, she was happy. Two months we were married. Why couldn't it have stayed that way? What happened to make her change so?
He flipped the pages some more. He guessed it was a few months later. Actually it was a few years. They had been married longer at this date. The handwriting was different, as if she stopped trying. She must have been at least twenty.
He has poisoned me. I was pure, re-virginized, if you will, before this. I was a goddamn fucking angel. Was that not enough? My heart turned, didn't it? The promise I made was earnest and true. But that promise isn't as strong as the other, I suppose. Marriage vows are a lifelong commitment, but I was married to Voldomort first. The lives I took, the people I've tortured. No amount of repentance is good enough! I was married in the eyes of God, was I not? But God wasn't there! I was baptized and christened, and cleansed but I might as well have fire running through my veins! No one, except few feel what I do right now. The pain is too much. It burns like all of hell, with devils stabbing me with their pitchforks, laughing at me! I can hear him. I can hear him inside my head. His cold, hard, unfeeling voice permeating my soul, and crushing my skull.
Wait. I have no soul, only this damned shell that has brought me nothing but misery. There is no moon tonight. Sirius is asleep, totally fucking clueless. Funny really. You shag the husband and he shuts the fuck up. Lucius always said that was the only thing I knew how to do. And he was right. And now he's back again. I didn't ask for him, but he keeps haunting me, stalking me, wanting me. My Lord's voice sings songs in my head, with Lucius breathing, heavily, hotly while Sirius sleeps in the bed I have polluted.
He cannot know. He mustn't know. I tried, I tried. For months I tried. He'll tell, he'll tell, I know he will! He made me promise and I did! I want him away from me. I want him out of me! He poisons me still, where I can't function anymore. He poisons me until I forget who I am.
I am Sirius Black's wife. Sometimes I have to repeat it to make it true. Sirius would kill me if he knew these things. But he is asleep now, and it burns so harshly. The burning I feel, now in my heart. Should I go? Will it stop if I go? He needs me. The Dark Lord needs me. My husband needs me more. He loves me, he loves me. I love him. Yes, I have to.
Oh, Sirius, Sirius. Love. Heart. Life. Freedom! My soul, my beauty, it is all within him. I am this way because of how he sees it. Darling, husband, lover, friend, saviour. I want to tell him. I can't. I want to tell him it is he I adore, but if he knew this you wouldn't think so. My sweet, strong perfect husband. I didn't want it. I didn't mean it! Forgive, forgive. I don't deserve him. I deserve the rape I am subjected. But I shall never be without guilt. And now I'm writing like he's here. But he's not. And I'm still crazy………fantastic.
Happy fucking anniversary.
The book was shut loudly and then thrown hard against the wall. He got up and threw the glass in the sink. It shattered with his force and made a blood curdling sound as it reached the sound barriers of his mind.
~*~
Diana walked briskly, and with severe attitude known as Le mal Marche. How appropriate, she thought agitatedly. Her step was fierce, with her scarf hanging loosely over her shoulders. Mrs. Andre, Christine's mother had crocheted it for her and gave it as a gift after the show, for teaching her daughter English, or attempting to at least. She came to number 21, after a cluster of apartment buildings whizzed by. Arabella's home was at the end of the street, and had a tiny green light over the door. She wasted no time prying it open. It was never locked anyway.
"Aunt Ara!" she yelled, slamming the door behind her. The lights in the living room were on and she could hear faint singing in the back room, which was also the kitchen.
"What good is sitting alone in your room? Come hear the music play. Life is a Cabaret old chum. Come to the Cabaret…."
"I can hear you." Diana said, throwing her scarf and bag on the dusty couch. She walked into he kitchen, and immediately held her nose because of the ghastly smell that permeated the air.
The older woman, of about fifty, danced up to her, in quite the jolly mood and grabbed Diana's hands. "Come taste the wine, come hear the band. Come blow a horn. Start celebrating. Right this way your table's waiting." She sang, trying to force Diana to dance. She tried to keep her feet as firmly planted as possible.
"Cabaret in town, I suppose." She said, breaking herself free and plopping herself down on a nearby couch.
"No use permitting some prophet of doom, to wipe every smile away—"
"Uh huh." Diana interrupted. "What is that ghastly smell? Cabbage, I'm guessing. Good. Considering potion making is your only magical talent to speak of. A wand certainly wouldn't do you any good."
"Arabella stopped singing, and scowled. "Well, aren't you a party pooper, interrupting me so. You're like a dementor, sucking my happiness out of me."
"I apologize."
"Good." She said, and smirked. "I…..used to have a girlfriend known as Elsie." She sang.
"Christ" Diana muttered, rubbing her forehead.
"With whom I shared for sordid rooms in Chelsea."
"I have a headache."
"She wasn't what you'd call a blushing flower." She sang, off key. "Come, lovely sing with me."
"No." she said.
"Yes."
Diana sighed, and the woman began to tap her feet loudly and hum. It infuriated her with annoyance. "Fine." She said. "As a matter of fact, she rented by the hour." Diana sang, half-heartedly. "There, now stop."
"Finish it. Then, I'll stop."
"Why?" she whined.
"Because." She said, and folded her arms.
"Ugh……the day she died the neighbours came to snicker. 'Well that's what comes from too much pills and liquor. " She stopped.
"Well, go on, darling." She said, sitting down, herself.
"But when I saw her laid out like a queen….she was the happiest…..corpse…….I'd ever seen. I think of elsie to this very day. I remember how she'd turn to me, and say--" She said. "That's it, Aunt. I'm done with this foolishness." A face flashed before Diana's eyes. Bellatrix. The drink and sex loving embodiment of wickedness, and she heard her voice through her words. Then she started again, but didn't know why. "What good is sitting alone in your room? Come hear the music play. Life is a Cabaret, old chum. Come to the Cabaret. And as for me, as for me, I made my mind up back in Chelsea. When I Gooooo, I'm going like Elsie. Start by admitting from cradle to tomb, isn't that long a stay. Life is a Cabaret, only a Cabaret, and I love a Cabaret!"
Her aunt jotted, mentally, her every move. "Nice pipes darling." She said. "And how true that is."
"What?" Diana asked, starting to fold a discarded napkin.
"Life is a Cabaret. That's why I love that play. Tragedy until the very end."
"Oh, I'm just playing, Aunt Ara." She said, stopping and undoing her hair clasp.
"Mm. Hey. Didn't you want to yell at me about something?" she asked, airily getting back to her cooking.
Diana thought. "Yes." She said. "Give me a second." She remembered. "Oh yes. How could you tell that, that infant what I was! Was it because you aren't?" she said, rudely.
"Oh, yes, Cheri. That is my reason for everything." She said, monotone. "Honestly, child-"
"Don't patronize me, you old bat!" she yelled, slamming her hand down. "We have our secrets. You must respect my wishes!"
"Oh, the girl didn't care that you were a witch. She thinks I'm crazy anyway. And she was probably thrown by the fact that your skin's not green, and I never have heard you cackle." She said, stirring away.
"I was referring to the fact that I was married." Diana spat, and her aunt started hysterically laughing. Diana stood up. "Yes, it is quite hilarious." She said, hissing as she spoke. "Lets all laugh about it!"
"Oh, sweet child." She said, putting her hand on Diana's cheek. "You poor misguided little girl."
"I am not a child!" Diana whined, and stomped her feet.
"Yes, you are. Your acting like you're two years old. Grow up, darling."
"I am plenty grown up, thank you. Christ, I think I'm as old as, well, you sometimes."
"Thanks sweetheart." She said, scowling "Please. All you know is a simple heartache. It will heal." Arabella said.
"Heartache. Heartache? Is that what you think?"
"Mm hmm." Arabella said, practically shooing her. "Young people, she thought.
Diana held out her left arm for her aunt to see. "Is this a simple heartache?"
Her aunt screamed, dropping the spoon into the pot.
"That's right. Take a good look, Arabella. Simple heartache, my ass. This is what I walked away from. I left my husband so he would never have to see this again, not because of a silly thing called a broken heart."
She stood there and stared at it, breathing heavily. "How? How!" she yelled, clenching her fists, dramatically. "After all your mother—"
"Fuck my mother! Fuck the lot of you! My mother was Slytherin happy in school too, that whore."
"Why how dare—"
"She was a terrible mother. She did nothing for me. She even cheated on daddy! Did you forget that? She left him and me for two weeks, and then showed up, begging forgiveness, and he took her back! I swear to god, that woman should have been sterilized."
"Now see here—" she said, but the girl kept speaking.
"Don't! She made me not want to have children. She would smoke and drink and say she hated my father. I would never want my children to see that. If I have one drop of that in me, one drop then I am better off alone."
"You are so stupid! How could you?" she said, her hands shaking in anger. "I should strangle you for saying such a thing! You ignorant cowardly fool! She never cheated on your father. You were what, three? Dim-witted girl. You taught yourself to remember such foolishness."
"Whatever." Diana said, refusing to listen. "I know what I remember."
"You know what you were taught to remember." Arabella corrected. "His wickedness has poisoned you." She calmed. "I just don't understand. You gave your life, to, to, those people? Are you mad?" she screeched.
"Apparently. If I'm making up my own history." She said, lighting a smoke.
"Your mother loved you, very much." Arabella sounded sad as she said this, even regretful.
"Do you think I want this? I hate it." Diana said, calming down.
"My god. Are you that dense? You—you gave your life to the very people who killed your parents. What were you thinking?"
"It was years ago." Diana explained.
"How many, one, two? Were you married? That precious husband, the love of your life, is he one too?" she said, angrily. "Did he teach you to defy your mother's memory? Did he tell you to go against your very blood!"
Diana paused, and rolled up her sleeve. She sank deeper into her chair. "No." she said. "No, none of that. His family, yes, but, no, not him. He wouldn't…….he wasn't like that."
"So then how did you get into this mess? You are more brainwashed than I ever would have guessed. I am horrified." She said, and she meant it. "You are so different now than when you were a little girl. How did you change? When did you change?"
Diana just looked at her, and then walked out of the room. She was upset, infuriated, pained, feeling everything, and nothing. She opened the front door. The green light was still illuminating brightly. She looked up at the stars, then at the houses around her. Arabella joined her, with a wine bottle in her hand, and tried to comfort her. Not being a particularly affectionate woman, it was difficult for her to put her hand on the child's shoulder, but she did so anyway. It felt foreign, not being a mother, or even much of an aunt for that matter, but she did what she thought Alison would do.
Diana sensed it, and although her touch was cold, she was comforted by the fact that her aunt tried. The green light above her almost flickered, sputtering little sparks when a fly or a bee came to close. It made her face look paler, and her eyes darker. Her face looked sallow, and it reminded Arabella of a different sort of witch, also wickedly misunderstood. Diana leaned against the porch, and sat on the banister, slightly swinging her right leg.
"After Mama and Daddy died I….um……had this boyfriend." She said, and Arabella began to listen. "I was supposed to marry him, but I didn't. He gave me this, and I pledged to the Dark Lord to make him happy. I thought he loved me, or more importantly that I loved him. I never wanted it, well, maybe I did. I was quite good, you know, when I liked that sort of thing."
"What things?" Arabella said, putting one hand on her hip.
"Evil things." Diana said, regretting every word.
"Like? Torturing animals?" she meant this as a joke, one that didn't go over very well.
Diana grabbed the wine bottle that was in her aunt's free hand. She popped the cork and drank from the spout. "No." she chuckled. "Just people."
"Are you havering?" She said, wiping the sweat off her brow. It was quite muggy that night.
"No, I simply wanted to make perfect people feel as badly as I felt on the inside, on the outside. It was therapy. So what if it was slightly out of my jurisdiction at the time."
"You don't punish innocents because you are an orphan." She hissed. "Not to mention it is just morally wrong."
"Oh, right, wrong, pish tosh." She said. "And thanks for looking out for me by the way. It was a real help." She said, sarcastically. "Mama would have appreciated it."
"Don't pin this on me. It was Angie who lived close to you. I was the estranged sister. She was closer to your Mum anyway." She said. "We chose our own paths in this life."
"What are you talking about?" Diana said, putting the bottle down. "Mum only has one sister, unless you have another personality we don't know about yet." She took another swig of the bottle.
"Is that what your Mum told you? Oh, well, strange." She said, taking the bottle away from her. "If she didn't tell you—"
"You just told me." Diana said, raising her voice. "I remember no Angelica Renton living by me at all, or Figg rather."
"Well that's probably because she used her married name, silly." Arabella said, suddenly intrigued by the girl's indifference to her own family. Diana looked stunned, running a list of names in her head. "Actually, come to think of it, she was a first lady of sorts, wasn't she?" she said, pondering out loud.
"First lady?" Diana said, more confused than before. Then she thought, and thought, until her head felt numb and she could think no more. There were no first ladies in Britain, she thought. She ran the list of Minister's of Magic. She couldn't remember all of it. There was Bagnold, who was now, but it had been Bagnold for years. Before that came—" Oh my God." She said, aloud. "Oh, piss off!" she said, chucking her cigarette.
"Oh, did you guess it dear? I'm surprised she never told you. Got the wrong end of the stick on that one, did you? Or, maybe she was going to but then she and her adorable husband were killed in that unfortunate accident, when the Ministry had to be rebuilt. Orphaned a son. What was his name?"
Diana chuckled. She wasn't sure if it was from amusement or budding insanity. "James." Diana said, shaking her head. "No bloody fucking way." She said, half chuckling. "I refuse to believe that to be true."
"What, that Angelica Potter was your aunt, oh, and godmother too, come to think of it." Diana laughed again. "Yes, once upon a time she was Angie Figg, long, long ago. Then she got knocked up and became a Potter. Father was pleased, but Mother, not so much. She wanted Angie to marry a Black. Unfortunately a woman named, oh, what was it, I'm getting so old. Azura, yes that's it. Well, she got to the first-born son first. She was mine and your mother's second cousin once removed, or something like that. She had a few brats, sons I believe. The oldest should be about your age."
"Mm." Diana said, cringing. "Of course." A Black my age, I wonder, she thought.
"Anyway, since Angie got pregnant so young, she was still at Hogwarts mind you, she was cast aside. And being the baby she didn't much matter. Alison, your Mum decided she hated the family, and pureblood choices were so limited, that she ventured elsewhere, to Muggles. And you think me being a squib was bad. Oh no. Naturally grandma Lestrange was furious—"
"Stop. Grandma Lestrange?" Diana said. Oh please no, Diana thought.
"Yes. My mother's maiden name was Lestrange. As I was saying—"
"No, wait. I thought you were Figgs."
"We are dear, on our father's side." Arabella said. She seemed fonder of talking of her family than Diana's condition. Diana began to grow weaker.
"I think I'm going to vomit." Diana said, putting her hand to her mouth, thinking for a moment she was part Lestrange. The room began to spin a little. "But, go on."
"Well, my grandmother voted that she be cast aside as well, and my mother half agreed with her. My father, your grandfather, Alcander, thought it was a lovely pair. Always was for the muggle rights, my father. So, naturally she married your sweet father, a muggle, and a lawyer, mind you, and was shunned as well. My father was heartbroken. And, after that I left, wanting no part of my family either and moved out here. It was already common knowledge that I was useless, being a squib, so I left. My mother pretended she didn't have daughters after that, and my father ended his own, miserable life the year you were born." She said, as calmly as if she had told the story hundreds of times. "Care for some tea, love?"
"Um. Yea. If you've got." Diana said, almost in a daze. She followed Arabella back into the house, and walked back into the kitchen. "Wow. And I thought my life was a nightmare."
"Oh, it was. But mine is over, and my sisters are dead." She said, digging into the forgotten pot for her stirrer. Whatever was cooking had been burned to a crisp. "Your life has barely begun. Look at all you have left to accomplish." She said, shutting the burner and making that cup of tea for her.
"I think I remember Angie. She was very kind to me once." Diana said, thinking deeply of a time she and Lily had come to stay at the Potter Estate, over a meaningless spring break. That very break she received her mark of torment. If only she had stayed with Lily. But she hadn't.
"Do you ever see the Potter boy? Wasn't he a friend of yours?" Arabella asked.
"Yes. He married my best friend, Lily."
"Oh, how sweet." She said, putting a teakettle on the stove. She removed the pot and banged it carelessly on the counter.
"Not really. They don't think so." She ran her fingers through her untidy, ebony hair.
"Problems? Well, life's not perfect." She said.
"Just a Cabaret. " She laughed. "No. They had stupid problems. I wish infidelity was mine."
"You do not." She said. "Infidelity is terrible."
"No, I know. But I have committed it, and so has he, and it's not in our way." She said. "There are worse things than sex."
"Well you have already taken care of murder and probably a number of immeasurable corrupt things. But, like what, for conversation's sake?"
"Sex is an animalistic act. It doesn't take a particular genius to perform it, or even be good at it. What I mean is that I never betrayed my husband in my heart. I may be soulless but I have a heart. Never have I denied him." She shrugged. "But who knows if he has denied me, by now anyway."
"Evil ways have then corrupted you both." She said, taking out two small teacups. "What was his name, anyway?"
"Sirius." Diana said, unsurely.
"What was his family? Pure?" she said, placing the tea in front of Diana.
"The purest." She said, with pompous intent. Arabella looked at her with an eyebrow raised. "He was a Black."
Arabella smirked and then shook her head, as if it were expected. "Of course he was." She said, kissing Diana on the forehead.
(Ok, before we discuss the lack of actual plot in this chapter I must tell you it was necessary. There are many, many unanswered questions, which in the following chapters will be answered. Also, other plot points will be explained. They are:
1) Why does James know where Diana is? (From this chapter you should have part of the answer. Yes, he always knew. But it will not be discussed now. No, Lily doesn't know.)
2) Why does James not want to go there?
3) Nicole's past. (Yes, she's got one.)
4) Lily and Petunia. (Oh, just wait….)
5) Why does Dumbledore know where Diana is?
6) When are these children going to be conceived?
7) More Lucius and Narcissa.
8) More Remus and Nicole. (I swear, I need a book for each of them)
9) Animigi transformations and why they must be used.
10) Lily and James and actual love, and of course, Paris.
11) That Ministry Party thing.
12) Snape and Lily drama.
13) More Death Eaters, captures, and a duel or two.
14) New characters (to this story anyway): Andromeda, Regulus, and Mrs. Black.
15) The concept of Occlumency, and who needs it. (Obvious, I think)
16) More Order of the Phoenix stuff.
--It is up to you people what I write next. Tell me the number, and I'll do it, if it sounds right. I write what I want, which means I have to agree, so it's really more of an opinion. All will happen though, just the order in uncertain. Or is it?
(Have a pleasant day! I'll update by Christmas! Lots of love! If you have any questions, ask me, either in a review or email. Happy Holidays!)
