Cedrella always was the least remarkable, the one who never quite fit in in this world of poise and perfection. Oh, she was beautiful- there could be no doubt, and no one could ever question her place as she stood between Charis and Callidora, with her hair swept and twisted into what could, in the pureblood world, constitute perfection and her eyes shining as she engaged in the expected phatic small talk.

But Charis could play the piano, and make it sound like heaven itself had been conformed into a series of musical notes. Callidora could dance and everyone in the room would turn around to watch. They had more than looks to recommend them, as their mother frequently boasted. They had their talents. And what had Cedrella, really, other than a frowned upon thirst for books and for knowledge, and a smudge on ink on her nose where a smudge of ink really ought not be.

And, whilst Charis conversed and flirted with every man that passed by, and Callidora smiled and fluttered her lashes, Cedrella Black wished that she could sink into the wall and never be seen again.

No one would have ever suspected, though, what came next.

ℓℓℓ

"It's not fair." Moaned Charis, yet again, as she watched on enviously Callidora and Cedrella melted through the barrier with the ease and assurance and grace of two girls who had done this a million times before, even thought Callidora had only done it twice and Cedrella, not at all. "Why can't I go? I would not shame the family. I have more magic than Ella, even, and more maturity. It does not make sense for them to go without me!"

"Yes, it does, now hush. You're making a scene. When you're older, you can come. It's just the way things are." Callidora eyes were cold and hard as she shook her hair back down her shoulders and looked down her nose at her younger sister. In the process of opening her mouth to protest, Charis caught sight of the hard, reprimanding look her sister was giving her, and promptly shut it again.

"Mama-"

"Listen to your sister, Charis." Their mother said, before the words were even out of her youngest daughter's mouth. Usually, Cedrella reflected, their mother was indulgent to the point of ludicrous when it came to their younger sister, but today her nerves were stretched... Too much so to even take in the fact that her middle child was leaving for Hogwarts for the first time. Too distracted to care. "I didn't bring you along so you could make such a terrible fuss. As a matter of fact, I don't even remember consenting to bring you along at all. Now please do be quiet, you're only enhancing my migraine, and you sound like such a mudblood when you talk like that. As if you do not know the rules of society. You will go to Hogwarts when and only when you turn 11. I won't hear another word on the matter."

"I see Eugenie, mother, I simply must go."

"What? Oh, yes, dear, give my regards to her mother, won't you? And tell her I shall see her at the tea party next week. Enjoy your term, and remember-"

"Tourjours pur. Yes, mother, I know."

And that was it. No tears at this seemingly endless parting, no hugs and promise of letters. Nothing. Just a reminder of the consequences of behaving in a way not resonating with the rest of the family, and the honour and purity of blood they had to uphold.

Decorum was everything to Lysandra Black, after all.

"Now, have you got everything? I won't have you turning up to your first lessons unequipped, it will reflect badly upon the family."

"Yes, mother."

"Good. Well, have a nice term. Make sure to get Slytherin. And remember who you are and the reputation you have to maintain. I won't have any daughter of mine sullying her blood or her name with filth, understood?"

"Yes, mother."

"Very well then. Off you go." And if Cedrella hadn't known her better, she would have sworn there were tears in her eyes as she promised Charis a shopping trip in Diagon Alley for some new dress robes and shut the train door on her middle child. At last moment, Cedrella leaned out of the window.

"I'll write everyday!" She promised her sister. "And miss you terribly."

And her younger sister smiled as Lysandra gave her daughter a hard look. "Tourjours pur."

Always pure.

Slowly, the train began to move, and Cedrella leaned out of the window until her sister disappeared from view, her hand raised in farewell. Even her mother's disapproving look couldn't distract her from the wide smile on her sister's face.

Sometimes, all anyone needed was someone to tell them that they loved them. That they cared. Even if they acted in a way completely improper to the Black family in the process.

"Younger sibling?" Asked a voice. Cedrella spun around, her eyes wide.

"Yes. How did you-?"

"Just said goodbye to six of them myself. They're all older, though." The boy smiled. He had red hair and a smattering of freckles, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Six?" Cedrella repeated, incredulous.

"Yeah. I'm the seventh son." He laughed, as if it was some kind of inside joke. "Septimus Weasley, pleased to make your acquaintance."

"Weasley." Cedrella repeated, her eyes widening in comprehension, tourjors pur still ringing in her head as she looked at his outstretched hand. "Oh. Oh. I should probably..."

"What?" Septimus asked, the smile sliding off his face.

"It's only... I'm not supposed to talk to the Weasley's. It's... forbidden." She lowered her voice, as if afraid someone might overhear her and drag her away, or else lock her up in a tower.

Septimus laughed. "You must be one of the Black sisters."

Cedrella drew herself up to her full height. "So what if I am?"

Septimus smirked. "So what indeed?"

He had a point there, Cedrella reasoned, as the train jerked and she went flying into her trunk. She smiled.

"Let's try again. Cedrella Black, simply wondrous to have met you at long last, good sir." She curtsied, her skirt skirt billowing around her as she looked up through her lashes. In that moment, Septimus could imagine this eleven year old girl with her wind mussed hair and mischievous smile as a young woman, elegant and beauteous as she curtsied before an equally elegant and beauteous gentleman. He smiled, feeling the first stirrings of a great and beautiful friendship thrilling through his veins.

"The pleasure is all mine, my lady." He replied, bowing over her hand.

With that, they collapsed into laughter, not thinking about the consequences, the sunlight bouncing off their hair and filling the corridor with light. Only seconds after her mother had told her to uphold the family name.

Tourjours pur.

ℓℓℓ

"Cedrella." Callidora acknowledge her sister with a nod as she sat down at the Slytherin table.

"Callie." Cedrella replied, beaming. Her elder sister, whose love of decorum had been instilled by her mother and never quite left her, shot her an irate glance.

"What happened to you hair?"

Cedrella frowned, noticing for the first time the long trestles of unruly, rich auburn teased free by the wind and falling across her eyes. She smiled at her sister. "The same thing that happened to your face, I'd imagine. Lighten up, Callie, you look like someone's slapped you."

Callidora Black gave her a younger sister a look that should have resulted in lightning bolts flying out of her eyes as Septimus Weasley was sorted into Gryffindor.

ℓℓℓ

"And why shouldn't I be friends with him?" Cedrella asked of her sister, carefully marking her page as she looked into what looked like the face of pure rage.

"Because he's a blood traitor. You're too good for him."

"I'm not talking about marrying the boy, Callidora. I'm just his friend." She looked her sister up and down. "Something you couldn't even begin to know the meaning of. What were you and Harfang doing in that broom closet, anyways?"

Charis gasped. "What?"

Callidora waved her aside. "We're engaged to be married, Charis. And besides, I didn't do anything."

Charis stared at her sister. "Yes, but a broom closet? He's ten years your senior, Callie. I doubt you were picking out flower arrangements."

A faint blush graced Callidora's cheeks. Smiling faintly, she ran a hand through Cedrella's hair, allowing the long auburn strands to slip through her fingers like silk and fall seamlessly back onto Cedrella's back. She put her lips to her sister's ear. "At least he's not a bloodtraitor."

Cedrella might be angry, but vestige's of patience remained. She turned to her sister and smiled, and whispered softly in return. "And at least I have a backbone."

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"You think I'm going to lie down and take the first marriage arrangement they give to me? You think I'm going to marry some jumped up, arrogant, lazy swine who gorges himself at dinner, smells like a pig and can't keep his hands off me?"

Callidora reached out and slapped her sister. Charis gasped... Whether from shock at Cedrella's words or at Callidora's slap, she didn't know.

"You will uphold the family honour so long as you know what's good for you, or so help me Merlin I will take this to father, don't think for one second that I wouldn't."

"Oh, I don't." Cedrella laughed. That was precisely the problem.

"You may have gotten all the beauty to be had in the family, Cedrella Black. But don't think that you got the brains to outsmart us. Any of us. No matter how long you spend hunched up over books."

Cedrella gritted her teeth, because hadn't she known for oh so long that this would happen? Maybe even from that first day she met him, on the Hogwarts express.

A happiness that glowed with such light and fever... It wasn't meant to last.

"You're coming up to your season, Ella, and I know a thousand and one boys who'll be just queuing up to have you. Don't ruin it."

"A thousand and one boys short, plump, fat and 10 years my senior."

"Don't be crass." Callidora frowned. "Or I really will tell father. And we all know what would happen then."

The trouble was, they all did. Callidora threw one last contemptuous look at Cedrella, before grabbing Charis by the arm.

"Come along, Charis. Cedrella has some rethinking to do."

Charis threw one last fearful glance between her two sisters. "You should think about it, Ella." She whispered as she was dragged out of the library.

"Hmm." Cedrella replied, trying as hard as she could to concentrate on her book, but her heart was beating wildly, and she was upset.

It was all such a mess.

She looked up from her book, feeling the prickle of an observer's eyes on the back of her neck. When she found the culprit, her heart almost skidded to a stop.

Not him. Anyone but him...

But it was him. Abraxas Malfoy was staring at her.

Bollocks.

ℓℓℓ

"Keep your voice down." Cedrella hissed, throwing a fearful look down the corridor. Septimus crossed his arms.

"No. I don't see what the problem is-"

"Of course you don't!" Cedrella exclaimed, teasing a hand through her hair. "Look... You're my best friend, Septimus. You know that. But... I just can't."

"Because your boyfriend's watching?" Septimus snorted. "I see."

"Do you?" Cedrella said shortly. "You know, I don't think you see at all. Just because you have this rose tinted view of the world, doesn't mean everyone does. I'm trying to be practical, trying to uphold my family name."

"By... What, exactly? What does being practical entitle, Ella? Because last time I checked, it didn't involved throwing away all your books and simpering like a pathetic society lady. Last time I checked, it didn't involve letting Malfoy grope-"

"Don't be crass." She cut across, a faint pink tinge entering her cheeks. She didn't seem to be able to meet his eyes.

"Don't be crass?" His voice was disbelieving and filled with scorn, and she looked up at him, her eyes blazing. "Don't be crass? Since when did you ever tell anyone to stop being crass?"

"Since I started thinking about my family honour for a change!"

"No! It's not. It's ever since you started acting like Callidora!"

"I-" Whatever Cedrella had been about to say died in her throat. She sounded defeated. "She's a better sister than me, Septimus. A better daughter. A better Black. And this is what I am... What I have to be. I know that doesn't make sense to you, but..."

"No!" Septimus cried, his eyes wide. "No, it bloody well doesn't make sense to me, and I know that it doesn't make sense to you, either. Cedrella, this isn't you!" He waved a hand over her perfect skirt, her styled hair, her perfectly applied make up. "You're not Callidora."

"Well maybe I should be." She repeated firmly.

"What the hell? Cedrella, you can't honestly believe that!"

Cedrella gave him one last defeated look, her shoulders slumped, her face crumpled. "I don't know what I believe anymore."

And then she was gone, leaving only the faint smell of vanilla and books.

ℓℓℓ

She was late. But Cedrella was late for everything... It didn't seem like that big of a deal. Not until he saw her. Then she entered, her hair coming free of its elaborate up do, her skirts inherently ruffled, and he knew something was very, very wrong.

He didn't exactly remember how he did it, but suddenly he was standing, and she was looking at him.

"Septimus!" She cried, and he realised her face was streaked with tears.

"Are you- whatever-" Septimus found himself stuttering, staring at her. Shaking his head of the thoughts rebounding against his skull, he took her trembling hand and pulled her into the seat opposite him. "I'll get you a drink, and you can tell me what happened. Alright?"

She nodded mutely, her neck arched and head bowed as she stared at her hands. Septimus threw her one last bewildered glance before walking up and ordering.

He wondered if Abraxas Malfoy knew her favourite drink...

"What happened?" He whispered, taking her hand. She looked up at him through her lashes, her expression more vulnerable than he had ever seen it.

Her hand was limp in his own, but at his words, she gripped it a little tighter. He stared at her.

"I should have known. It's not even... Everyone's been expecting it, apparently. Everyone but me, that is."

"What?" He asked, urgency leaking into his voice.

"I'm engaged." She whispered, holding up a thin silver band with a magnificent diamond set in the centre.

It could have paid for 6 of his parent's house, Septimus knew, as he stared at that lump of rock on her finger. And even as he gripped her hand a little tighter, he felt as if she was slipping away... As if she was lost to him forever.

"We'll figure it out." He said, with such conviction Cedrella couldn't help but smile.

"Will we?" She asked.

"Yes." He said firmly. "We will."

He kissed her, for the first time ever, that dreadful night. And Cedrella couldn't help smile, despite knowing that there was only one way this love affair could end...

Not in happily ever after.

"I love you." She whispered into the crook of his neck, so quietly that he could pretend he hadn't heard, if he should so desire.

Instead, he pulled away, running his thumb over her cheek. "I love you too, Ella. I always have."

Everything would be alright.

ℓℓℓ

"Father wishes to speak to you in his study." Charis told Cedrealla, stopping her in the hallway. Cedrella frowned.

"Whatever for?"

Charis raised her now perfectly manicured eyebrows, her expression that of perfectly cultivated disbelief.

"Why ever do you think?"

ℓℓℓ

"Septimus?" Cedrella gasped, walking into the office to find the last person on earth she'd been expecting to see- or perhaps the very person she'd been dreading.

Her mother stood perfectly still, leaned against the wall with her shoulders held stiff, staring at Septimus in apparent dislike, as if he were something disgusting she'd found on the bottom of her shoe. Septimus and her father looked to be in some kind of stalemate...

The tension in the air was palpable, and Cedrella gulped. "What- what is the meaning of this?"

"Sir-"

"I'll tell you what the meaning of this is, young lady." Said Artucus, his voice cold and filled with an awful kind of rage. "This man- this bloodtraitor, came into my office, bold as brass, and had the audacity to ask for your hand in marriage. Do you have any compassion for what that must have done to your mother's nerves?"

"Sir-" Septimus started, and Cedrella winced at the sound of his pleading voice, stiff with the effort of remaining polite. She hated this.

No one ever interrupted Artucus Black mid flow.

"I was not speaking to you, you impertinent little swine! I was addressing my daughter. Cedrella. Explain yourself."

His cold fury resonated within Cedrella, spreading a chill into her very bones. "I don't quite know what you expect me to say, sir." She said stiffly.

"I expect you to tell me what is going on, you little-" He took a deep breath. "Cedrella. My daughter. I'll admit you've always had a little rebellious streak that the other two do not possess. But you're a young lady of an extraordinary number of talents, and a great deal of suitors. For Merlin's sake, you're engaged to a Malfoy. You can't seriously be thinking about going through with this... this little blood traitor. You're a Black."

"Yes, father." She whispered. "I am."

Septimus's gaze snapped up to hers. She refused to look at him.

"Oh." Said the father. He seemed to deflate, all the life re-entering his body. The Mother simply breathed, a look of relief evident on her aging features.

"Cedrella-"

"Enough!" The father roared, all fury returning to his features as he stared down the young man on the other end of the desk. "You have trespassed here, you have upset my wife and daughter, you have caused a great deal of disruptence, trespassing on our hospitality where it were not even the least bit welcome. You have said your piece, and Cedrella has said hers. I shall call a house elf up to escort you off the premise, and the next time you come here, I shall be calling the Ministry. Make no mistake."

Septimius locked eyes with Cedrella, and suddenly realised the damage he had caused.

"Ella." He choked. "Please."

Cedrella let forth a strangled sob, backing out of the way as the house elf came bustling in.

"My father's right." She whispered. "You should go."

ℓℓℓ

The snow clung to Cedrella's hair as she walked, the sound of wizarding carols pouring forth from the tiny little cottage. She took a deep breath.

She must be mad.

It was Christmas Eve. She should be at home, at Callidora's engagement ball... It was required. It was duty. She'd be insane if she thought for one second that no one would notice her absence... that they wouldn't know where she'd gone.

But sometimes, your heart has something to say... And whether you like it or not, that should always take precedence over what others are saying for you.

Abraxas Malfoy didn't love her.

Septimus Weasley, on the other hand...

There were more red haired people than she'd ever seen, in that little cottage... And with her dark aurburn hair and bright brown eyes, she couldn't have stuck out more.

It didn't take too long to find him. He was sat in the corner, the only one not dancing, the only one alone. The only one with a drink and a miserable expression.

He didn't see her. Not until she was inches away from him.

"I suppose it'd be an awful lot to ask you to forgive me." She said, her voice clear and beautiful to his ears. And yet unwarranted. So completely unwarranted...

He wanted to be angry with her. He really, really did. But right now, as she stood there before him, his entire family watching... (Merlin did she know how to make an entrance!) All he could feel was anger at himself.

He'd humiliated her. He'd made her chose. He'd put her into a tight spot with her father, the father he knew that despite everything, she adored. He should have known what her answer would be.

And he really, really should have known what he'd say.

He shrugged, and stood up, placing the drink on the side. "Can't say I'm not a little annoyed." He lied. And she grinned.

"Good." She replied, and kissed him.

Not just a chaste peck-on-the-lips kind of kiss, the kind of which he'd given a thousand other girls, and she'd given a thousand other boys, before they'd started going out. A proper, desperate, searching kiss that seemed to stretch on for an eternity, yet could never be long enough.

And they both knew, as his family burst into rounds of applause, that this was it.

Maybe they could have a happy ending, after all.

ℓℓℓ

"You know, if you take another step, you won't be able to come back." Said a voice. Cedrella turned.

"I- I was just-"

"Yes." Said Artucus Black, tapping his cigar against the ash tray. "I know how these things work, Cedrella. I watch your Aunt Isla do exactly the same thing."

"I-" Cedrella didn't know what to say, so she closed her mouth. Her father gave her a searching look.

"You know how these things work, too. You're not stupid. In fact, you have more of a head on your shoulders than I ever did at your age. You certainly have a better head on your shoulders than either of them-" He gestured towards the upstairs, where she knew her sisters slept. "If you leave, then you leave forever. You leave the Blacks behind. You leave me."

Cedrella nodded. "I know, father."

She thought he was going to talk about Isla, the sister who'd married a muggle. She thought he was going to talk about Marius, the young boy who'd been blasted off at age eleven, for not having enough magic in his blood.

He did neither. He just sighed.

"You were always my favourite, Cedrella."

"I- What?"

"Hmm. You're not supposed to have them, of course. Favourites. But us Blacks always do... I chose you. Because you were kind, the way the other two weren't. You knew what you wanted, and nothing would stop you getting it. You were a true slytherin, even from the age of 5. But mostly... You were just cleverer than them. You were just like me."

Cedrella looked at him. "You'd never do anything like this."

He didn't reply to that. Instead, he sighed again, breathing in the smoke from his cigar. "Abraxas Malfoy is a good man, Cedrella."

"So is Septimus Malfoy."She replied.

Artucus nodded slowly, as if in approval. "That he is. Stupid... Bloodtraitor, idiot, theif. But good... I can believe that."

"I've made my choice, father."

"I know." He replied. "And there's nothing I can do. You're mother will blast you off the tree, and I'll never mention your name again... I'm so sorry."

She smiled through her tears, and kissed his temples. At her touch, his eyes closed, and he touched her hand on his shoulder.

"Bye dad." She whispered thickly.

That was it. He would never see her again.

Artucus Black died a year later, his wife the year after that. Their friends suspected it was of a broken heart, but those who knew Lysandra Black knew they were wrong. She didn't have a heart to break...

Cedrella gave birth to her first son that year, and named him Billius Artucus Weasley.

And he was beautiful.