Consequences

Iola wept her heart out at her mother's funeral.

She couldn't really explain why, if pressed. It wasn't as though she and Mama had been particularly close. Still, she knew her mother had loved her, in her way. It was quietly infuriating to see Phineas and Elladora so undisturbed, although they both squeezed out a few decorous tears.

Afterwards, when Mama had been buried between her long-dead husband and son and the wake had been held and the house was empty again, Elladora found her sitting in Mama's room, going through her things.

Mama didn't have much. Her clothes hadn't really been worn for years, since she'd spent most of her time in bed, and her jewels had long since been repossessed by Phineas to give his sisters. They'd been Black heirlooms for the most part anyway, not Mama's to keep. The only things in the room that seemed personal were the photographs, clustered all over the bedside table and filling one of the drawers. Mainly of Little Sirius, and a few of their father too. Before the funeral Iola had found just one photograph with all four of the siblings together, and she'd wanted to slip it between her mother's hands as she lay there, but Elladora had shaken her head. "It's this one she wants," she'd said, and she'd taken the biggest portrait of Little Sirius instead.

Now, Iola picked up the one she'd chosen initially. It was a magical photograph, but all the children were so still – blinking only occasionally – that you could be forgiven for thinking it a Muggle one. Little Sirius was holding the baby, his cheek brushing the downy black curls on her head, his smile very sweet and innocent and yet tender like an adult's. Iola lay contentedly in his arms, not wriggling at all. Her round green eyes stared out at the viewer. Phineas stood beside Sirius, his expression grave and solemn in contrast with his brother's beam. His arm was around three-year-old Elladora, who was wearing a tiny set of dress robes and looked uncomfortable but also pleased to be included.

Elladora sat down on the bed beside Iola, also studying the photograph. "He was a good brother," she murmured. "Little Sirius, I mean. He was very sweet-natured. I remember that much. But what she did... it wasn't right, Iola."

"She didn't choose any of this," Iola protested. "She didn't mean to be ill."

"But she could have tried to get better," Elladora countered. She looked at Iola and sighed. "I do feel sorry for her, Iola. She was so young when she got married, and then our father died and she fell ill and lost Little Sirius all at once. But she wasn't a good mother to us. You know that."

"She loved us," Iola said, starting to cry again.

Elladora put an arm around her. "Perhaps," she allowed. "But she loved him more."

"You're glad that she's dead," Iola said accusingly. "Aren't you?"

Elladora didn't deny it. She sighed again and said, "It was twelve years too late."

-B-

N.E.W.T.s were over. Phineas knew he'd done well, better than bloody Julius Malfoy and all his hangers-on, better than any stupid little Mudblood Head Girl. He was good at studying, good at taking exams. Still, it was a relief to leave Hogwarts at last: he'd outgrown the place.

On the last day of term, while the rest of the school piled into the horseless carriages, the seventh years were rowed across the lake in the same little boats they had taken as first years. Phineas sat with his dormitory-mates as usual, listening to them talk about their plans for the summer and beyond. Malfoy had recently come into his own fortune following the death of his father, and he was boasting idly of his plans to stay home playing lord of the manor, with no need to work. Avery, too, was the heir of an old and wealthy family and could expect his parents to support him. Rosier and Parkinson were less lucky: they were younger sons, and though they would inherit a small share of the family wealth, they'd need to find some genteel occupation to supplement their inheritances.

Phineas was the head of his family. He had plenty of money and no need to support himself, but to his surprise, when Avery asked him what he was going to do, he heard himself saying, "I've sent a paper off to Arithmancy Today. If they accept it, I'll do some more research."

Malfoy laughed. "You're going to work for a living, Black?"

Rosier and Parkinson both bristled immediately, but Phineas leaned back in his seat and gave his rival a very Slytherin smirk. "Some of us," he drawled, "need more to keep our minds occupied than ladies' tea-parties. Will you be laying out matching tablecloths and china sets, Malfoy?"

It was a double insult, suggesting that Malfoy worked like a house-elf as well as jabbing at his masculinity, and the other boys all sniggered. Though she couldn't have possibly heard what he'd said, from the next boat, Livia turned to smile at Phineas.

-B-

Elladora was thrumming with excitement as the maid twisted her curls into an elegant coiffure and touched up her make-up. Going to a ball was one thing, and hosting it in your own home was another. But a private dinner... well, there was something so much more thrillingly intimate about that.

Of course, the mismatched table had proved a headache: with Elladora, Livia and Iola, they had an extra girl, and Elladora hadn't been able to choose anyone else to invite who'd come singly. She'd toyed with the idea of sending Iola off to one of her school friends' for the evening, but Phineas had adamantly refused. "I'm not going to send my sister away as if there's something wrong with her," he'd said flatly. "She's a perfectly well-mannered girl, and I'm not giving Julius Malfoy any cause to gossip."

Elladora had wanted to argue the point, but Iola had looked so flushed with gratitude at the idea of being included that it was hard. Still, there was so much to worry about. She'd been playing hostess to their exclusive pure-blood events for a full year now, but she didn't think she'd ever get used to the flurry of panic about what food to serve and seating arrangements and appropriate music.

She hoped Phineas would hold his tongue. He'd been making an effort recently not to speak badly of Julius in front of her, and he wasn't impulsive by nature, but you never knew. In the end, though, it turned out it wasn't Phineas she should have worried about.

They entertained their guests in the parlour until the hour for dinner rolled around. Julius rose first, those beautiful grey eyes fixed on Elladora. He offered her his right arm and smiled. "Might I have the pleasure, Miss Black?"

He'd never called her Elladora again after that magical first meeting, always staying strictly within the bounds of propriety, but she found she didn't mind that as much as she might expect. It was enough that Julius Malfoy singled her out at every gathering, large or small, enough that she was always the lucky girl seated by his side. She put her hand delicately on his sleeve – dark silk and impossibly soft to the touch, but somehow she found herself wishing his arm was bare instead – and struggled to keep from beaming.

Behind her, Phineas looked thoughtfully between the two girls he was left with before offering Livia his own arm. "Don't worry," Elladora heard him reassure Iola. "I'll be back for you."

He was true to his word, seating Livia beside him before disappearing back upstairs and returning with his little sister on his arm. Iola was practically glowing with excitement as she took her seat, smoothing her pretty robes as she did so. Elladora had taken her shopping a few weeks before to buy her a set of dress robes — a pale, girlish pink that suited her charmingly.

She had all sorts of duties during the meal, from making sure the courses were being served in time to maintaining pleasant conversation and keeping the fine elf-made wine flowing freely. It was hard to concentrate on that, though: hard even to taste her food, smoked salmon and caviar followed by rich, tender lamb barons, when Julius was leaning over her in that way. She would have been content just to listen to his low, musical voice, but his words were beautiful too. He spoke about art and literature and culture, pausing to listen to Elladora's opinions and nodding gravely no matter how foolish she sounded. She was hard-pressed to keep her dignity when she simply wanted to laugh aloud with joy.

Over dessert – a lemon meringue pie – Julius and Phineas fell to talking politics. Elladora was well informed on the subject, but she knew better than to join in. Well-bred girls weren't supposed to know about such unrefined business; politics was for wizards, and while a pure-blood woman might bestir herself to vote she'd usually do so as her father or husband told her.

Phineas didn't hold with that. His sisters were both bright girls and he'd never tried to hide that, to pretend to associates that their skills were solely ornamental. But Elladora knew what was expected of her. Men like Julius enjoyed explaining things to their girls; it was not attractive to know already what one was being so graciously taught.

Everyone's plates were clear now. That was Elladora's cue to withdraw to the drawing room, flanked by Iola and Livia, but she was reluctant to go and leave the men to their port too soon, while the conversation was still so cheery and amiable.

During a moment's lull, Livia took the opportunity to smile artfully across the table at Elladora. "Where shall you be vacationing this summer?" she asked. "Julius and I are headed to Paris in a few weeks."

Elladora fought to keep the smile fixed on her face. So Julius was going away? Why hadn't he told her? "Why, we're staying here," she said brightly. "London is charming in the summer, don't you think?"

She never much liked talking to Livia. She didn't hold any of the animosity for her that Phineas did towards Julius, but Livia always struck her as shallow and insincere. Still, she could swallow her own feelings for her brother's sake.

That resolution was tested when Livia smiled more broadly and said, "Yes, of course, I imagine you must find it difficult to get away, with so much to look after in the house."

As if Elladora were on all fours, scrubbing like a house-elf! But everything depended on her keeping her cool, so she replied, "I do like to keep things in order here. It's so nice to come home to a well-kept house at the end of the day."

"I never bothered with any of that myself," Livia said airily. "Mother had the house-elves all trained up before she passed. Did your mother not—" She broke off, covering her mouth with her slim fingers. "Oh, do pardon me. It quite slipped my mind that your mother was an invalid."

"Of course it did," Iola muttered. She was glaring at the table, her round cheeks flushed. Elladora felt her own colour rising, but she kept her lips buttoned. Maybe the Malfoys hadn't heard Iola's rude tone. She was about to suggest the ladies leave the men to their port at last, when Julius spoke.

"I'm so sorry for the loss of your mother, Miss Iola," he said earnestly. He was so much more civilised than his sister. "Her sickness must have been a terrible burden on you all."

Iola went an even darker shade of red. "Perhaps you'd think so, Mr. Malfoy," she said, looking him directly in the eye. "But I would never see someone I loved as a burden. I think that sets you and me apart."

Julius blinked and leaned back in his seat. Elladora felt mortified.

Phineas' face was very grim. "Iola," he said, in a tone that brooked no argument, "go to your room."

"But—"

"Go to your room, Iola." Phineas never shouted. When he was furious, he turned paler than marble and his dark eyes blazed. Iola stared at him for a moment before rising, tossing her head of black curls and marching out.

Elladora's eyes were suddenly burning. Her perfect evening was ruined, and what would Julius think of her now?

-B-

"Your behaviour," Phineas ground out, "was inexcusable."

"Inexcusable!" He'd never seen obliging little Iola like this before, shaking with rage, delicate hands clenched into fists. "When you just sat there and listened to her spouting off like that—"

"My actions are not for you to criticise, Iola. I am the head of this household and if I say that you behaved badly then you are to listen to me." Phineas was good at keeping his temper in check, and now he spoke in a slow, measured tone. "You were rude to both of our guests, you showed yourself completely ungrateful to us for allowing you to join us at an adult affair—" like any not-quite-fourteen-year-old, she hated being treated like a child—"and you upset your sister." He looked over to where Elladora sat on the foot of her bed, staring at the floor. She'd kept her composure beautifully, but he knew how much she'd looked forward to this dinner. "Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

Angry tears sparkled in Iola's green eyes. She glared at him for a while and then said, "No, Phineas."

"You will have to be punished, Iola." Phineas leaned back against the door. He was nearly five years older than his sister, but he'd never honestly tried his hand at disciplining her before. She was usually so well-behaved. Well, he knew what would sting. "You are not to attend any social occasions until you've showed me you can behave maturely at them, and certainly not this summer."

Now Iola was pale. He'd promised to throw a summer ball – her very first – to celebrate her fourteenth birthday, and of course she'd been looking forward to it. But consequences were consequences.

Iola gave a single sob and flung herself face-down on her bed, rumpling the shimmering green silk quilt. Phineas took Elladora's hand in his and led her out of the room.

-B-

Phineas and Elladora had gone out to an all-day summer party at the Averys' or the Malfoys' or maybe the Parkinsons' – could anyone even tell them all apart, with their identically spacious manor homes and identically extravagant entertainments and identically irritating occupants? Anyway, her siblings wouldn't be back until the wee hours, so Iola had a few hours of freedom.

She had had a very lonely summer. Not only was she banned from any form of fancy event, but Phineas had forbidden her to invite any of her classmates over to the house for her birthday, and he and Elladora had spent more time away from the house this summer than they ever had before. Iola didn't precisely regret being rude to the Malfoys, but she didn't think she'd have done it again, given the consequences. She was a Slytherin, after all.

Phineas wasn't unreasonable. He'd made a little fuss of her for her fourteenth birthday, gifting her with a beautiful new piano and a promise of music lessons over the school holidays. But he hadn't yielded an inch in his punishment. More painfully, Elladora had been cold and distant ever since the dinner. Iola hadn't realised how much she missed her sister's company until she didn't have it anymore.

All considered, she'd be glad to get back to Hogwarts, but before that she had one glorious day with no supervision, no unfinished homework and a splendid summer sun, and she was not going to spend it cooped up in the dark London house. She banged the front door firmly closed behind her and marched out into the square.

Grimmauld Place was not a particularly impressive sight. It was surrounded on all four sides by tall, dark Muggle townhouses, and boasted no attractions of its own but a patch of faded grass in the centre. But Iola took a deep, delighted breath anyway. Where should she go first? What should she do?

She could try taking the new bus – what was it called? The Knight Bus? The Minister for Magic had introduced it last year as a safe refuge for wizards and witches in trouble. There'd been an uproar in the papers about it; Julius Malfoy had written a letter to the Daily Prophet denouncing it as a "Muggle-esque outrage." Iola had expected Phineas to agree with him, but he'd only snorted in disdain. "Muggles cause plenty of real problems in the world," he'd said. "What's the use in getting furious over such trivialities?"

A trip on the Knight Bus might be interesting. But where would she ask it to take her? Hogsmeade? Diagon Alley, maybe? Or... Iola grew disturbingly conscious that she didn't really know many other places to go. Or any other places to go.

Twelve hours of freedom, and she couldn't do anything with them because her imagination was too limited! Well, she wasn't going to stand here, at any rate. She tossed her head and walked into the centre of the deserted square, which actually... wasn't all that deserted any more.

A little boy, maybe five or six years old, was sitting in the grass, chattering happily away. To himself, Iola assumed at first, before she saw the dog lying in the sunshine, panting contentedly. Iola didn't know much about dogs – Elladora didn't like them at all, and Phineas had no need of a hunting hound in the city – but the one in front of her had a silky black coat and a powerful tail that occasionally thumped the ground. She was beautiful.

Iola only meant to watch from a distance, but the child happened to turn around and see her. He had a cherubic face, with sandy hair and bright hazel eyes. "'Lo," he said when he saw her. "You're wearing funny clothes."

Iola blinked self-consciously. She was wearing a perfectly neat pair of day robes, made from fine summer wool in navy. Then she took a closer look at the child's own garb. He was wearing a crisp white shirt and an odd garment on his lower body that seemed cut around the shape of his legs. The clothes were a world away from the flowing robes with their generous cuts that she'd grown up with. He must be... he must be...

"Tommy!" came a sharp voice. "Don't be rude!"

There was another boy marching up to them from the other side of the square, with a smaller dog – this one fluffy and white – by his side. He was obviously the little boy's brother, with the same light hair and rosy cheeks, but he looked about Iola's age, fourteen or so. "Good afternoon, miss," he said, smiling warmly at Iola. "Apologies for this little scoundrel's manners."

The second boy was dressed much like the first, but he wore his strange clothes with a casual ease that the little boy couldn't muster. Still. They were – Muggles.

"My name's Bob," the boy was saying. "Well, Robert properly, of course. I've been left to watch the scamp for a few hours while the parents and sisters are off to the theatre. Between you and me, it's hard to decide who's got the worse deal." He gave her a conspiratorial grin.

Iola stared at him, completely unable to summon up something to say. Shock was giving way to the first pricklings of fear – she'd heard dreadful stories of what Muggles did to witches and wizards, how they would break your wand and beat you or drown you or burn you alive if they found out the truth. Some people aren't even sure they're human, she remembered Phineas telling her a while ago.

But these boys looked so normal. The older boy, Bob or Robert or whatever his name was, sounded just like any upper-class pure-blood she knew, his accent clear and refined. His smile was wavering now as she stared at him. But he seemed undaunted. "What's your name, miss?"

"Iola," she said quietly, because she had to say something. "Iola Black."

Normally, when she introduced herself – which she didn't need to do often, because her looks, particularly the long black curls, were distinctive – she got two reactions: a flash of awe at her surname, compounded with a little bewilderment at her given name. She'd been called Viola more times than she could count.

Bob didn't do either of those things. His grin just broadened. At his feet, Tommy was leaning against his legs and looking up at her curiously. "That's a pretty name. Where do you live, Iola Black? Round here, or are you just visiting? Tommy here and I are denizens of Number Twenty-Three." He jerked his head back over his shoulder.

"I live here," Iola said without thinking. "Number Twelve." Then she cursed herself silently. Bob's forehead was furrowed as he looked behind her, no doubt trying to make out her own home: but he couldn't, because Number Twelve was invisible to people like him. To Muggles.

What was the penalty for breaking the Statute of Secrecy, again?

Iola's courage failed her. Without another word she swept up her skirts and fled, back to the cool, dark safety of her house. On the front porch she looked back briefly into the square. The brothers were still there, now looking utterly bewildered. They couldn't see her now, of course.

Iola shut the front door firmly behind her and let out a long, shuddering breath. She would not be doing that again.