25 by The Pretty Reckless
Year one was lots of fun
But nothin' lasts forever in my dreams
And two, I followed you
Because you knew the way or so it seemed
November 23rd, 1973
Once her essay was deemed at least Exceeds Expectations worthy, Ivy rolled up the three sheets of parchment. Tucking the Transfiguration homework into her bag with its accompanying study materials, she stretched out in her chair.
Most of the other Slytherins had already cleared out of the Common Room. Aside from Ivy and her mates, there was only a pair of seventh years sleeping on the sofa in front of the elegantly carved fireplace.
Regulus sat across the table from her with ink smudged across his nose. It had been there for nearly an hour, but she hadn't said anything as it made her smile. Theya, who was shooting green and gold stars from her wand, was sandwiched between Ivy and Snape, who was absorbed in a Potions book that was undoubtedly advanced for a third year.
Bogey Girl, Ariadne Zabini, was sat across from Theya, copying off Regulus's work.
Ivy narrowed her eyes, none too happy about the new addition to their little circle.
The prolonged Bat Bogey Hex had faded over the summer, so she wasn't holding a grudge over the incident anymore; she just found Ariadne to be an obnoxious braggart, as she'd taken to calling herself a magical prodigy. According to her, not only was she better at Charms than Flitwick, but she was also an incredible flyer. This particular claim was made right before she, Ivy, Regulus, and Theya failed miserably at Slytherin Quidditch tryouts.
Regulus took notice of Ariadne copying him and hastily put away his homework with a glare in her direction.
"You done?" Theya asked immediately, as though she'd been waiting for them to socialise with her. "'Cause I convinced my parents to let you stay for Winter Hols."
"Thank Merlin," Ivy sighed.
"Don't thank Merlin," Theya tossed her hair. "Thank me."
"Thank you," Regulus rolled his eyes. "For saving my arse. And Sirius's. If I have to spend another two weeks with the git, I'm going to curse him into a hospital bed."
"You're welcome," Theya grinned. "I also accept thanks in the form of expensive gifts. Jewellery, rare trinkets, unlimited access to your Gringotts vault…"
Snape snorted without looking up from his Potions book.
"What about me?" Ariadne piped up, brown eyes holding thinly veiled irritation.
"Oh, I'm sorry," Theya frowned. "I could only invite two. And they've been begging to come over since last year."
Ivy raised a brow at the lie, wondering if Theya regretted inviting Ariadne into their circle. Then again, it could've been some sort of envy tactic. After all, exclusion usually led to desperation for inclusion.
"It's fine," Ariadne said with an air of superiority. "The eighty-second Wizarding Schools Potions Championship is next summer, so I should study up to make sure I win. Not that I need to study very much. I mastered Defense Against the Dark Arts in a year, so I doubt Potions will be that hard."
"Wow," Ivy said in mock admiration. "You know how to cast a Patronus, then?"
"Yes," Ariadne deflated a little.
"A corporeal one?"
"Obviously."
"Could you show us?" She asked sweetly, ignoring the kick to her shin she received from Theya beneath the table.
Snape looked up from his book.
"In the common room?" Ariadne asked uncertainly. "I don't think there's enough room. Besides," her grandiosity appeared to return. "I wouldn't want you all to feel bad for not getting it right on the first try like I did. I could've been in Ravenclaw, you know, the Sorting Hat considered it."
Ivy smiled. "Why don't you ask Dumbledore if you can transfer?"
Regulus snickered as Ariadne's face reddened.
"Actually, on second thought," Ivy smiled. "They should really get that old Hat replaced. I mean, putting you in Ravenclaw sounds like a colossal mistake if I've ever-"
"I think," Theya interjected loudly as Ariadne bristled. "We should all be off to bed. Early morning of classes tomorrow-"
"Tomorrow's Saturday," Regulus pointed out.
"-so why don't we all just get some rest, yeah?"
Theya shoved Ivy out of her seat and herded her towards the Girls Dormitory. Ivy waited until they reached the bottom of the stairs to release her laughter, though she kept a hand clasped over her mouth so as to not let Ariadne overhear.
"What was that?" Theya barked.
"What do you mean?" Ivy giggled. "She's full of it. At least you and Regulus have talent to back up your bragging, she doesn't have anything."
"Exactly," she folded her arms. "She doesn't have anything. Everyone calls her Bogey Girl and half the second years are still mad about last year; she was jinxed twice today just walking down the corridor. Ariadne's trying to make friends and you're not making it easy on her."
"Whatever."
"Go apologise."
"No," Ivy sneered. "I'll be nicer to her from now on, but I'm not going to apologise."
"Go say you're sorry," Theya said slowly. "Or I'll tell Regulus that you think he's cute."
"Tell him. I'd be happy to reap the rewards of that."
"How about this," she narrowed her hazel eyes dangerously. "If you don't apologise, I'll tell him about that dream you had. The one about him and Sirius."
She gasped. "Don't you dare!"
"Regulus!" Theya yelled merrily.
Ivy lunged forward and clapped a hand over her mouth. "I swear to Merlin, if you-"
"What are you doing?" Regulus arrived at their side with a frown.
"Nothing," she removed her hand from Theya's mouth and straightened her robes, hoping he didn't notice the deep flush in her cheeks. "I just have an apology to make."
December 31st, 1973
While happy to be with the Greengrasses instead of her rotten family, Ivy was even more thrilled at the idea of Bogey Girl being left out of the celebration. This was in part due to a letter from Ariadne that contained a disturbing comment about the Squib Rights marches that had started up again. If her memory was correct, Ariadne's exact phrasing was: Why bother protesting for creatures that are less than Mudbloods, less than the dirt beneath our feet?
There was a smug sort of relish sitting in her chest as she dined with Regulus and the Greengrasses for New Years. The sun had gone down a few hours ago, but the dining room, which was painted a light yellow colour, was cheerful and awake.
By the time they started their dessert of sticky toffee pudding, she wished Theya's parents would adopt her. Reginald was a kind, short man and Sere was willowy, several centimetres taller than her husband. The pair were mischievous and fun - Ivy adored them.
"So, Regulus," Reginald ran a hand through his thinning gold hair. "I hear you excel in Defence Against the Dark Arts. Bully for you."
"I'm the best in our year," Regulus smiled politely.
"Clever and confident!" Sere grinned, hazel eyes glinting with the same twinkle Theya's had when she was up to no good. "Say, do you plan to make an honest woman out of our daughter someday?"
Regulus choked on his pumpkin juice. He and Theya looked directly at Ivy, who quickly shovelled an intentionally large bite of sticky toffee pudding into her mouth.
"Sere, don't tease the boy," Reginald shook his head with a smile. "Besides, it seems he's already taken."
"I'm not taken," Regulus was red in the face. "But Theya and I are just mates."
"That's a pity," Sere sighed. "We'd love for Theya to end up with a boy as witty as yourself. Though, Ivy, that's not to leave you out. We've heard a great many things about your magical ability as well. Charms and duelling are your forte, are they not?"
"They are," Ivy preened.
"I won't be surprised if you all join the Slug Club come sixth year," Reginald said. "But Horace is a dear friend of mine, so if you find yourselves in need of an extra bolster to get in, feel free to drop my name once or twice."
"I'm sure they'll get in on their own merit," Sere said.
"Regulus and Ivy will," Theya said proudly. "I'll get in for my connections and good looks."
"That's our girl," Reginald clapped his daughter on the back.
The Greengrasses were the most naturally charming people Ivy had ever met. It was no wonder Theya was able to win over the surly Gryffindors and strict Ravenclaws; she was born and bred to do just that.
"Right, well," Sere smiled. "The New Year is almost upon us, why don't you kids run along? Reginald and I have a little celebrating to do on our own."
"Ew," Theya, Ivy, and Regulus said at the same time.
"She's only taking the mickey out of you," Reginald rolled his eyes, though Ivy sensed he was lying. "Besides, one day you won't find it so ew anymore. Now, scram. We have a bottle of 1845 Firewhiskey that's begging to be opened."
February 8th, 1974
Upon dismissal from DADA class, Ivy sluggishly began to pack her materials. By the time she was halfway through, Regulus and Theya were already waiting by the door for her, and she motioned for them to go ahead.
Pausing to roll her neck, she heaved a sigh. She'd been up for the better half of the night, studying and catching up on homework, as the course load was growing heavier as the year went on. The only benefit was that as long as her brain was on overdrive, the likelihood of nightmares occurring was low.
Pulling her bookbag over her shoulder, she followed the last remaining Gryffindors from the classroom.
"...You should really come with." Marlene McKinnon was saying as she worked her blonde hair into a ponytail. "I heard the last Squib Rights march was peaceful."
Ivy's ears pricked up.
"My parents wouldn't let me." Mary MacDonald, a dark-haired Mudblood said gloomily. "Protests can get out of hand and they won't want me that close to Knockturn Alley."
"Come on," McKinnon whined. "Just come over for Spring Holidays and they'll never know."
As the Gryffindors turned down a corridor that would lead her away from her next class, Ivy made the split-second decision to follow them. She kept her distance, walking a metre or so behind.
"I'll just lie," McKinnon went on. "And tell my parents you got permission."
"I don't think so," MacDonald said as they entered their classroom. "Maybe ask Lily or Alice. Or Doe."
Ivy continued past their class, circling about to head for her own. The likelihood of being able to attend such a protest was low, but if she could find an effective disguise, it was worth it to try. Not only did she want to feel like she was doing something for her sister, but she also quite liked the idea of being someone else for a day.
February 18th, 1974
Ivy spent several days scouring every issue of the Daily Prophet she could get ahold of, searching for more information on the Squib Rights marches. While she was able to find some old clippings about past protests, she didn't have any luck with the one McKinnon had mentioned.
Twice, she nearly committed to asking McKinnon for the details. Ultimately, however, she decided against it, as she didn't want to deal with the questions that would surely arise. The Gryffindor wasn't likely to be very forthcoming with her anyway.
Instead, she chose to approach Theya with the subject, as she had all sorts of social information. Waiting until the end of dinner, once Regulus had gone to the Library to squeeze in some extra study time, she instigated a nighttime stroll.
"I can't wait until next year," Theya said as they walked. "When we're allowed to go to Hogsmeade. Who d'you think I should take?"
"Regulus and I?" Ivy suggested.
Meandering past the Muggle Studies classroom, she wondered if her parents could be persuaded to let her attend the class next year. Under the guise of needing to know their enemy, of course.
"I can't very well snog the two of you," Theya made a face.
"You want to snog someone?"
"Don't you?"
"Isn't thirteen too young for snogging?"
"Not for me. Next year, I'm going to get as much experience as I can."
"I thought purebloods were supposed to remain, you know, pure and all that."
"I'm not talking about shagging. At least, not yet. I'm going to get plenty of experience in that as well, but not for a while. You can stay pure," Theya said mockingly. "If you want, but nobody else will. It doesn't really matter as long as you can provide an heir one day."
She shuddered at the thought of having a child.
No, she didn't want to think about that for a very, very long time. If ever.
"Alright," Ivy said. "While you're getting experience in Hogsmeade, who am I supposed to snog?"
Theya gave her a look. "You know who."
"Regulus?"
"Obviously."
"But…"
"But what?"
"I don't know," Ivy said, uncertain of her feelings on the matter. "We're friends. Besides, I don't know if he thinks of me that way."
"He tells me constantly that you're cute."
Ivy smiled smugly despite never having put much thought into the idea of dating, snogging, or anything else related to the two. It just seemed complicated and messy. And, if she was going to be sold off to the highest bidder for a marriage contract anyway, what was the point in dating?
Doubting she'd be ready to snog anyone by next year anyway, she shelved the whole concept.
"Whatever," Ivy pursed her lips. "I guess Regulus and I will be at the mercy of Ariadne for Hogsmeade weekends."
"She's really not that bad," Theya insisted.
"Yesterday, she said she could duel Dumbledore and win. She is that bad. Half the time I can't tell if she's trying to take the piss or if she's really that dense."
"She wants you to like her."
"She's not helping her own case."
"One day," Theya said contemplatively. "I'll get you to like her. Or at least tolerate her."
"I already tolerate her."
"You called her an overstuffed bint not an hour ago."
"So?" Not particularly wanting to continue with their line of discussion, she decided to move on to her ulterior motive. "Are you doing anything fun for Spring Holidays?"
"Not sure yet."
"Alright, because I heard about this Squib Rights march that's supposed to be happening in London. Some Slytherins mentioned that they were planning a counter protest."
"Right," Theya nodded in recognition. "The march in Horizont Alley."
"Yes, that one," Ivy concealed the excitement that rung through her. "When was it, again?"
"April 6th."
"Oh," she deflated. "That's Avdima's birthday. Nevermind, there's no way she'll let me go."
"Your mum's birthday is April 21st," Theya narrowed her eyes.
"Right," she thought fast. "But she wanted to celebrate it over Spring Holidays since I'll be home."
Theya halted next to a stone-framed window, leaning against the wall to analyse her.
Ivy forced herself not to fidget and held a questioning expression.
"You could be a great liar, Iv," Theya said after a long moment. "Next time, make sure your story is infallible and consistent. Like my father always says, it's only illegal if you get caught."
Staying quiet, she forced her face into neutrality.
The golden-haired witch stepped closer and lowered her voice. "You're lucky you slipped up in front of me instead of Mulciber or Rosier or… Any other Slytherin pureblood."
"You mean…?"
"That I don't care about all that pureblood shite?" She scoffed. "Frankly, I don't care about either side of the war. Greengrasses are always neutral."
Ivy felt her shoulders relax. "I'm so glad to hear-"
"Did you not hear me?" Theya suddenly hissed. "I used the word war. This topic is not a debate, it's life and death. I'm not sure you understand that. You can trust me when I say that I don't care, but you cannot trust anyone else."
Ivy opened her mouth to protest.
"I mean it," she said gravely. "If anyone doubts your loyalty to the pureblood side of the war, even as a second year, you're in for a world of trouble."
"I don't think it's that serious."
"Maybe if you were a halfblood it wouldn't be," Theya's voice was exceedingly quiet. "But you're not. You're a pureblood, your family is on the Sacred Twenty-Eight, and you're the Selwyn heiress. Your family is matriarchal too, so you don't have the luxury of just being married off to a Death Eater. Someday they will expect you to be a Death Eater."
Trying to breathe against the severity of her words, she knew Theya was right. She was a berk for not having seen it before: of course the people who hated non-magical folk enough to kill their own child would expect her to do the same.
"We may not be involved in the war now, but we will be. You're already so deep in the pureblood side that I hate to think of what could happen if you tried to be otherwise." Theya took a breath. "I'm not trying to scare you. I just need you to know that you can't go around asking about Squib Rights marches."
"Are you going to tell anyone?" Ivy asked quietly.
"Of course not," she sounded offended. "You and your sympathies are safe with me. You just need to be careful, especially if you're going to lie to everyone you know."
She nodded solemnly.
"Look," Theya reached out and gave her hand a squeeze. "My parents have been wanting me to practise Occlumency and Legilimency. Why don't we learn together?"
"What's Occlumency and Legilimency?"
"Basically, it helps you protect your mind from invasion and teaches you to invade the minds of others. If you're going to have, um, sympathies, you'll want to learn."
"That would be great."
Theya pulled her into a warm hug, apparently having sensed how much Ivy was needing one.
"Remember, infallible and consistent," she whispered. "Got it?"
"Got it."
February 24th, 1974
Ivy poked her head into the Library, doing a quick scan of the occupants. Not seeing who she was looking for, she frowned but walked in. Passing between the massive bookshelves, she kept an eye out for a head of greasy black hair.
It was two in the afternoon, so he had to be around somewhere.
After a few minutes of searching, she found the hook-nosed third year in an alcove, his face hidden behind a massive book. Squinting a little, she read the title: Advanced Potion-Making.
Of course, he's reading a sixth year textbook, she rolled her eyes.
Ivy pulled out the chair across from him and dropped her bookbag on the ground. Snape lowered the text just enough to see over it. His black eyes then narrowed and he blocked his face from view once more.
"You're hard to find," she decided to get straight to the point, knowing there was no use in trying to soften him up. "I need a Polyjuice Potion."
"Did it ever occur to you that I made myself hard to find in order to be left alone?"
"Yeah, actually. But unfortunately for you, I don't know anyone else who can brew Polyjuice."
"Go ask Zabini. She's rather vocal about her supposed Potions aptitude - I'd really like to see what would happen if someone ingested a potion of her making."
"You and I both know it'd be healthier to drink poison. Come on, you're better than half the seventh years at Potions."
"I'm better than all the seventh years at Potions. Still, flattery will get you nowhere."
"I wasn't trying to flatter you," Ivy said honestly. "I have a proposition."
"I'm not interested."
"Hear me out. I know you're worried that Evans fancies Potter-"
Snape snapped his book closed and stood abruptly, hastily packing his study materials.
"-I have a plan," Ivy went on, clasping her hands on the table in front of her. "To make sure that she never likes him. It involves making him look like the imbecile he is. I can ensure that no girl will fancy him after what I have planned."
He stopped to frown at her for a long moment, then slowly retook his seat.