Hello, darlings! I've been writing quite a bit, and the story's been getting away with me. I'd swear it had a life of its own . . . In any case, I've got another two chapters and, hopefully, I'll have more before everything begins to get crazy again . . . stupid September.
Chapter Nineteen
Hermione woke the earliest the following morning, her mind set on the work she had already begun at Hogwarts. Now, she knew, there were new factors to add in: her parents, her brother . . . the challenge was wonderfully stimulating.
As quietly as she could, she opened the amber hangings and slipped out of bed, careful not to wake Severus; he was a very light sleeper. She whispered a Summoning Charm to get her materials before she went and began her work at Isolde's desk, placing the three members of Isolde's family into the equation and whatever else she felt was necessary or at least useful in some way or another. Damn Butterfly Effect and all that . . .
Once she had determined all of the variables she knew, she began inserting them into a neat little equation she had developed; Hermione had created it when she had been working on the problem of the Final Battle, and its versatility was important, especially to this type of work, in that it allowed her to place factors in the equation where necessary and other work she had already done would not be quite so unpredictably affected by it. Hopefully, this problem would be solved quickly enough and once it was, she could focus on a way to get herself back home.
Sirius woke uncharacteristically early and was happy to find that Isolde was unable to keep herself away during the night, her arm wrapped around his waist and her head against his side. He began to smooth her hair back, combing it carefully with his fingers as best he could. She smiled a little, humming softly in her sleep, and Sirius kissed the top of her head; he hoped it was a good dream.
His eyes drifted closed again after a while of watching her sleep, but it wasn't long before he felt a soft touch on his side and eyelashes fluttering against his side. "Morning, Isolde," Sirius said, sitting up and stretching. He draped a casual arm around her waist and pulled her back to him. He didn't like it when she was so far away.
"Feeling a bit possessive today, eh, Puppy?" She laughed as she leaned into him, both of them sitting lazily against the headboard.
"Always, Philomel, always," he replied, bringing his lips to hers. It was a chaste kiss, but he liked it—much to his surprise. He had never understood the beauty of them until now.
"Tell me how they found you," he said after a moment.
"What do you mean?" she asked, a bit startled at the question.
"You said you were adopted, and I was wondering how they found you." He was too cowardly to add that if they hadn't found her, he wouldn't have either.
"Mum and Doc had always wanted another child. Mom loves Matt and everything, but he isn't theirs—and he certainly isn't hers. They tried for a baby so hard, but a gynecologist—a Muggle lady doctor—said that Mum had a problem and wouldn't be able to carry a child full term without nearly killing herself in the process, especially since she had miscarried and lost the baby once before. On one of her walks after they found out—she was rather depressed—she found a tiny children's home that was little better than a Dickensian orphanage. She didn't even go home; she just called Doc and they came to adopt because this way, they could still have a child together, in a way."
"And then?" he prompted, making her blush a little.
"They spoke with the man who ran the house and filled out the paperwork; Mum used to say to Doc when I was little and being . . . well, a brat . . . that she wasn't sure all that red tape was worth it, especially that time I broke the footstool, but that's another story. In any case, all they needed to do was pick a child, and they hadn't realized how daunting it would be. On the appointment when they had to choose their new child, they had had to bring Matt along because they weren't able to find a sitter and while they were in the nursery, he wandered off, being about six at the time. He eventually found his way into the room for the toddlers, where I was with the other two-year-olds. When Mum and Doc found him, we were playing together and he didn't want to leave me behind. Doc always said that he had never seen Matt behave better with a child that age before or since."
He barked a quiet laugh, nuzzling her temple with his nose. "Have you ever learned about your other parents?"
Isolde sighed. "No. The man who ran the orphanage said that they were probably dead or something. When my mum told me I was adopted, she said that some people were born to the wrong parents—that they were just "tummy mums." Then, those kids would someday find the mum they should have had: their "heart mum." You know what I mean?"
"Yeah," he said, exhaling deeply. "Mine hates me because I'm a Gryffindor. I don't see the point in being a Pureblood; it just means that I'm probably inbred. When I fight in the War, I'm fighting for Dumbledore, not for . . ."
Sirius trailed off, remembering the day he knew he was the black sheep of the family . . . the day the man who would one day become the Dark Lord came to call.
He had been sixteen at the time, and while he was not ignorant of his family's belief in their "superiority," he had not yet spoken out against it overtly, merely showing his displeasure by distancing him from them as best he could; this had, of course, begun the day he was Sorted into Gryffindor in lieu of the traditional, acceptable, proper, Slytherin.
Regulus was still all right enough; he trusted Sirius, still looked up to him, though they maintained their distance at school. Brothers or not, Slytherins and Gryffindors were not often a good mix. It still hurt him that he hadn't seen his brother's devout belief in so trivial a hierarchy, but he loved Regulus—wanted the best for him. In his own way, Sirius was fighting a battle for his brother's soul as best he could, working to plant and nurture the seeds of rebellion in Regulus the way they were naturally planted in him.
One lazy summer day— before all the fuss over Lord Voldemort and blood purity—back before the murders began—Sirius and Regulus had been playing a relatively friendly game of chess in the library, discussing what Madam Pince's true gender was (Regulus argued that she was female) when the house-elf had interrupted them, bowing low in his tea cozy to tell them that their mother was entertaining a guest in the parlour for tea, and she wanted to introduce them.
Grudgingly, they left their game for the time being and went to the parlour, wary of their mother's guests and fully expecting the usual cheek-pinching routine, never mind that they were sixteen and fourteen, respectively.
It was with surprise that they met a young man whom their mother giddily introduced as "Lord Voldemort." The man smiled the sort of smile that immediately put Sirius on guard. It didn't quite reach his reddish eyes, Sirius noticed, meeting them once Lord Voldemort had extended one pale hand, gripping Sirius's with long, slender fingers.
"Master Sirius, I presume," he purred, gripping Sirius's arm tightly as he met the boy's eyes. He drew back quickly, as though burned. "The first Gryffindor in the bunch, I see. Please, sit."
Regulus seemed to be a bit jealous until Lord Voldemort gave him the same treatment, lauding his Slytherin accomplishments and the way he had upheld the family honour and tradition.
Sirius artfully rolled his eyes once the stranger's back was turned, earning a glare from his mother for his trouble.
Kreacher brought each of the boys a cup and saucer for their tea; Sirius inclined his head in thanks before helping himself to one of the pastries that had been laid out. He didn't notice the way Lord Voldemort's brow raised or the way the man's fingers tented once he'd set his cup down.
"There is something I believe I would like to discuss with you boys," he said finally, breaking the silence created by the boys' arrival.
"And what would that be, sir?" Regulus enquired, obviously on his best behaviour.
"I believe in a world that is right," Lord Voldemort replied. "It is a world in which those who are superior have power, and the inferior do not. I believe that you are both superior."
Regulus brightened a little.
Sirius remained sceptical. His Padfoot instincts, honed since last year, rarely led him astray, and they told him that Lord Voldemort was trouble. In spite of his five years as a Gryffindor, he had been raised as a Slytherin and knew enough by now to remain tight-lipped and aloof—for now, anyway.
"I will need your help to create my utopia. Follow me, and all your dreams can come true. I will make you powerful; I can give you women—money—power—anything you should desire. All I ask is for your help in purging the unworthy from our new world."
"What do you mean by purging?" Sirius asked suddenly, his brow furrowing and his mind wandering to dangerous places. No matter how suspicious Lord Voldemort seemed to be, he couldn't mean what Sirius thought he meant.
"I mean that those unworthy of using our magic will not be permitted to use it, my boy. They have no right to powers such as ours, don't you agree?" His eyes flashed, but Sirius, steadfast, stubborn and impulsive, refused to cow.
"So when you say that they will not be permitted to use magic, you mean that . . ." Sirius trailed off, hoping the other man would finish his sentence. Regulus and Mrs. Black watched the scene with mild interest as though it were tennis.
"I mean that they shall not have access to wands or the powers they should not have. Those who rebel would be unwise to do so."
"So anyone who fights back, dies? Is that it, then?"
"In crude terms, I suppose it would be viewed as such by those who are not capable of seeing my vision for the future of our world. I believe in power, and you are both powerful enough to join me." The man remained calm, though Sirius could see he was tensing slightly.
"Sirius," his mother warned, "you are upsetting our guest. We don't wish to be rude, do we?"
"In this case, I think I do. You can't honestly believe in this charade, can you?" His wild eyes were met with blank stares. "No, no . . . I can't do this. I just can't do this. I'm leaving." Regulus simply watched in stony amazement; his brown eyes wide in a very un-Slytherin display of shock.
He bolted up the stairs and to his room, scrawling a messy, "I'm coming over; I can't be at home any longer—explanation later," on a spare bit of parchment, addressing it to James and tying it to the leg of the family owl.
Sirius then pulled his old trunk out of the closet and began haphazardly piling his school things, some robes and Muggle clothing and some of the books and toys and knick-knacks he'd picked up along the years and had become especially fond of. Once his room was sparse and his trunk full (thank Merlin it was nigh to bottomless), he shrank the trunk down to pocket size and made sure to slam the door on his way out, pausing at the family tree before he left, blasting his own name off with wild glee and fierce pride.
"You did what you had to," Isolde said finally, brushing her fingers down his back aimlessly. His breath hitched and shuddered, his head lowering to her shoulder and the damp of his tears falling against her skin. She cradled him as best she could, humming one of the lullabies from the book he'd given her until he calmed, his breath evening out slowly.
Sirius met her eyes and took her face in his hands, smoothing his thumbs over her skin and bringing his lips to meet hers. Isolde closed her eyes, sighing as he parted her lips to deepen the kiss and pulling him closer to her, his bare chest pressed into her and his hardness against her thigh. She made a soft keening sound when he moved a hand to her bum, grinding into her, but Isolde regained her control when they broke apart for air, Sirius's dark hair curtaining around her and his forehead pressed to hers.
"We need to get dressed, Puppy."
She tried to pull away, but he tugged her back, frowning. "I thought you wanted me."
"I don't deny it, Sirius." Isolde swallowed heavily and hung her head, pulling away from him again. He didn't stop her this time.
"Then why?" he asked, trying to meet her eyes.
She evaded his gaze, a little ashamed. "This is happening so fast, don't you think? For the first time, I have friends who aren't dead. For the first time, I have a boyfriend and he happens to have a rather damning reputation. It's a little much to handle, all at once."
"I'm sorry," Sirius said, downcast; he hated feeling like he'd hurt people he cared about.
"It's not your fault I've been a social reject 'til now," she replied. "You've been more of a help than you know, Sirius. Just a little time is all I need."
Feeling him brighten slightly as their eyes finally met, Isolde leaned in and gave him a lingering kiss on the cheek, just as he'd always done in the very beginning of their relationship, and the gesture made him smile.
The kitchen was alive with the scent of berry pancakes and sausage once they had dressed and gone upstairs for breakfast. Isolde's mother greeted each of the four with a kiss on the top of their head, though she had to wait for the boys to sit before they received theirs, being far too tall for her to reach.
Hermione laughed a little as Donna tutted at her daughter's jeans; they were shredded and ripped artistically, topped off with a pair of black motorcycle boots. Isolde shrugged and began eating happily, pouring syrup on her pancakes before she began. Sirius sat next to her, and as he was familiar with pancakes, ate them with great relish, welcoming the offer of a second helping, though he was careful to avoid getting syrup on his jumper and grey slacks.
Severus ate with great deliberation, Donna noticed, and his eyes rarely left the girl sitting across from him, whom she could only assume he was dating. She approved of the relationship, though the contrast between the two was almost comical. His clothes were entirely black and form-fitting while she wore a white tunic and a pair of jeans, her wand holding the wild hair atop her head back in some sort of twist. There was a natural warmth from her while he seemed so distant and cold . . . they were perfect together.
"So what have you all got planned for today?" Donna asked, pouring batter onto the pan to make another batch; Matt had yet to wake up.
"Going out for the day—movies, bit of shopping, maybe grab a bite to eat . . . just a few things in town," Isolde replied. "I figured I could show them around."
Donna pulled a few notes out of her pocket, slipping them to Isolde as surreptitiously as she could. "Be home no later than seven o'clock. That gives you—once you all finish eating—nine hours to get your day in. Call if you'll be late."
"Thanks, Mum. I love you," Isolde said, giving her mother a side hug.
"Your check's in the mail, Isolde," Donna said, laughing lightly and taking the pancakes off the griddle and putting them on the plate.
"Won't you be joining us, Donna?" Severus asked, motioning to the chair at one end of the table.
"I've already eaten, thanks for asking. Once Matt comes down, tell him he can heat up his breakfast before he heads off to work. I've got to get the groceries." Donna gave her daughter another kiss before grabbing her purse and heading out the door, taking the bus for her errands.
"You can all Apparate, right?" They nodded and she continued. "Matt asked to come along as he's taking most of the day off, so I'll have to leave for a moment or two to get him and it's the easiest way to get into town. I figure we'll see the afternoon show and get lunch at the cinema."
Once they had all finished, Hermione flicked her wand at the dishes, using a strong Scouring Charm before Sirius dried them and sent them whizzing back into the cabinets. Isolde went to fetch their coats, giving Sirius an old coat of her father's and giving Severus a black coat she'd seen her brother wear once. Isolde scribbled a quick note for Matt before they left for town, Apparating to an alleyway Isolde knew.
The four went through an assortment of shops that dotted Main Street through the town, seeing as it was about the only place where there were any shops.
Severus reached to open the door to the fourth shop, but he was stopped by Isolde, who hissed, "Don't!"
The others looked at her in confusion, Sirius holding back laughter and Severus raising a brow. "Why shouldn't I? It looks perfectly respectable."
"I know the clerk who works there. We were mates when were little and he's had a crush on me since I was, like, two!"
"Is that all?" Hermione asked, chuckling a little.
"We went out once," she replied, reddening, "and I have never had a more awkward night in my life. He simply showed up at my house and asked me if I wanted to go get ice cream. We barely talked and I wished I was dead!"
"You'll be just fine," Severus told her, squeezing her shoulder.
"Yeah," Sirius agreed, "we'll take care of it." He kissed her cheek before he whispered, "Just play along."
They made their way out of the store with little more than twenty minutes to spare before the movie, crowing and laughing as they walked towards the cinema.
"Did you see," Hermione asked, wiping a tear from her eye, "his face when you took Severus to the little machine to pick out a ring and then decided that a half-pound was too expensive!"
"It was almost as good as you and Isolde looking for baby clothes!" Severus replied, slinging an arm around her.
"I think the crowning achievement was when he asked Isolde if she was pregnant, and she just fluttered her lashes and said, 'I am in boarding school. Don't be so naïve.'"
"I don't think he'll be chasing you anymore, Zelda," Hermione said, smiling. It was a bit of a testament to her friendship with them to know that never in her friendship with Ron, Harry and Ginny, had they done anything like that. It was rather nice, she had to admit, to have friends without worrying about saving the world all the bloody time.
Damn thing just couldn't stay saved.
It was, Severus later decided, a fantastic day, all things considered. They had each gotten a hotdog, a soda and split a huge container of popcorn and various candies to eat for a late lunch while they watched the movie, though Isolde and Matt had done the oddest things, like "head-banging" and "air guitaring" (which was nothing more than finger wiggling) during the really good songs.
Without realizing it, he rolled his eyes.
Family. His own had been a failure, but he'd always wondered about having a wife and children, but with the threat of war looming, it seemed like a castle in the air for such a cynical person as he. But if he could walk the knife-edge between the two factions, there was a chance that Severus could take Helene away to a place where this evil couldn't touch them.
Once he learned what she was hiding, of course.
He was just planning.
Not procrastinating.
No, never.