Under the Water by The Pretty Reckless

There's not a time, for being younger

And all my friends, are enemies

And if I cried unto my mother

No, she wasn't there, she wasn't there for me

October 16th, 1974

The tables and chairs had been removed from the DADA, leaving the space empty aside from Professor Middow's desk and a massive ornate wardrobe that stood in the centre of the room. Windows covering the left wall let in stormy light and the third year Slytherins and Gryffindors lingered on the fringes of the classroom.

"What's this?" Ivy asked as the students chatted amongst themselves.

"Not sure," Theya tilted her head.

The wardrobe gave a rattle, jostling as if something was inside.

On instinct, Ivy's wand slid from up her sleeve into her hand.

"Looks like it's going to be hands-on," Ariadne frowned.

"Let's hope it's not a werewolf," Regulus said reproachfully. "Those things are terrifying."

Eyeing the other third years in an attempt to glean what they might be facing, she gained no insight, as everyone looked equally confused. Making eye contact with Marlene from across the room, she gave her a nod of recognition, earning a little smile in return. They had started studying together as a cover for hanging out, which was rather effective thus far.

Watching the Professor enter the room with a flourish of his wand, the doors slammed shut behind him. He was a short, balding man with a bit of a belly who Ivy, mortifyingly enough, was taller than. She was just glad that Regulus had finally grown to be her height, and that Severus, too, was gaining on her.

"Listen up!" Middow gained the silence he asked for. "Today, we're going to be learning about the joys of Boggarts. These are non-beings that will shapeshift into the form of your worst fear."

The relaxed expressions dropped right off Ivy and Regulus's faces.

As the Professor went on to explain how to defend against Boggarts, her heart pounded. She didn't need to confront the Boggart to know that it would take the shape of an eleven-year-old girl with the word SQUIB carved into her arm. Worse than that, there was nothing she would be able to do if Hazel spoke the dreaded words: You didn't avenge me. You didn't change anything. You forgot about me.

Middow had the third years line up and the spot at the very back of the line was hard fought, but ultimately didn't go to Ivy or Regulus. Instead, it went to Avery and Davey Gudgeon, a Gryffindor. Theya and Ariadne were at the front of the line.

"Can you imagine," Regulus leaned over to her. "Having such a peaceful life that you're curious about your worst fear, instead of already knowing what it is?"

Ivy blinked at him, unsure how he had managed to voice her exact envious feelings.

The Professor then let the Boggart loose.

Theya stood with her wand drawn as it shifted through a hundred forms, so quickly that Ivy could barely comprehend what they were. After some time, it settled into the shape of a fancy dining set that no one was sitting in.

"What's that about?" Regulus murmured.

"Her worst fear is being alone," Ivy said quietly.

"Riddikulus!" The table got on hindlegs and started doing a jig.

Ariadne was up next and she approached the Boggart, which instantly turned into Ivy. Complete in her perfectly arranged Slytherin uniform with black ribbons in her hair, there was a look of smug disapproval on her face.

All eyes turned to the real Ivy, whose face lacked emotion despite the horror she felt.

Ariadne yelled: "Riddikulus!"

The fake Ivy exploded into a thousand silver and blue butterflies. Ariadne walked directly to the back of the classroom and stood by the door, looking out the window as her face turned red.

Paying little attention to the students who went next, she only took slight notice that Marlene's Boggart was a giant centipede.

She had never considered that she might be someone's worst fear. The idea both intrigued and repelled her. Had it been someone else fearing her, perhaps her parents, it would've been thrilling. But not when it was one of her own, which Ivy hadn't realised that Ariadne was, until that moment.

"Mr. Black, you're next," Middow effectively snapped Ivy out of her thoughts.

Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that Theya had joined Ariadne, who was running a hand through her dark hair. Many Gryffindors were casting looks at Ivy, as though she was about to Avada the entire class.

Turning her attention forward, Regulus's Boggart finalised in seconds.

Ivy stared at a tall woman with luscious black hair and sharp grey eyes. Her posture was rigid and her face was, perhaps, even colder than Avdima's. She held a wicked-looking wand in her thin fingers, making Ivy understand exactly what his mother did to become his worst fear.

"Riddikulus!" Regulus yelled.

Walburga Black sprouted boils that instantly popped.

Looking distinctly peaky, she watched Regulus go join Theya and Ariadne.

Ivy stepped forward, wand at the ready. The Boggart flickered when faced by her. It shifted into Hazel, looking precisely as expected, though as Ivy opened her mouth, it switched into the form of Bellatrix Lestrange.

Taken by surprise, she hesitated.

Bellatrix was only a bit taller than her, though her wild, shiny curls were exactly as she remembered. There was a warm smile on her lips that nearly counteracted the effects of her eyes, which were still those of a hyena. She, unlike Walburga Black, didn't look dangerous.

She looked affectionate.

"You're just like me," Bellatrix said proudly.

Just as hate and hurt started to boil within her, Bellatrix changed into Hazel again.

"Riddikulus!" Ivy shouted, turning her sister into a massive pile of kittens.

Refusing to take a second for recovery, she spun on a heel. Not only did she not want to show any sign of what her two greatest fears meant, she also didn't want to think about them too long.

Walking directly over to her mates, she was thankful to find that they were isolated from the other third years, which gave her the perfect opportunity to sort out Ariadne's worst fear.

"I'm a bitch," Ivy said bluntly to Ariadne. "But I shouldn't be a bitch to you. I don't want to be your Boggart. Honestly, you just boast a lot and I don't like it."

Theya groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"I get it," Ariadne said, surprising Ivy. "I just wanted to make friends after the Bat Bogey Hex incident."

"We are friends. I've just been a shitty friend."

"And I've been annoying."

"Long as you're doing being obnoxious," Ivy smirked playfully. "I can ease up."

"As long as you're done calling me Bogey Girl," Ariadne cracked a smile.

"I'm done," she said earnestly. "Promise."

January 2nd, 1975

Ivy sat at the head of the chestnut table, having more fun at Selwyn Estate than she thought possible, as her parents had allowed her to invite friends over for her birthday instead of forcing her to spend the day with them.

Seated around her were Theya, Regulus, Severus, and Ariadne. She'd already opened the majority of her gifts and the table was covered with an assortment of beautifully decorated sweets and heaps of wrapping paper.

"Saved the best for last, huh?" Theya slid over a small box.

Ivy snorted, delicately peeling back the paper.

Her favourite house elf, Minsty, popped to her side to start clearing away the mess of discarded packaging. Pausing at the sight of her, Ivy thought back to how Marlene had mentioned the Ministry blocking an appeal against house elf slavery back in 1973. She'd never thought of house elves as slaves until hearing about that. But as a direct result, she'd been making a conscious effort to be more respectful to them, since it wasn't within her power to do much more.

"Thank you," Ivy said under her breath.

Minsty gave her a small smile.

Opening the little box, her eyes went wide upon beholding a silver and opal ring. Moving it around in the light, she noticed some yellow and pink hidden in the gem.

"It's lovely," Ivy slipped it onto her right pinky finger where it fit best. "Where did you get it?"

"Just had it lying around," Theya said.

Raising a brow, she playfully tested the boundaries of Theya's mind. It wasn't with the intent of malignant invasion; they had merely begun an Occlumency and Legilimency game. It mostly consisted of trying to breach the other's mind as a warning to always be on guard. Fortunately, it had been months since they were able to get past each other's defences.

"Alright, technically," Theya smirked as she successfully blocked Ivy. "It's a Greengrass heirloom. What my parents don't know won't hurt them."

"Shouldn't we use a Doubling Charm so they-"

"Ivy, dear," Avdima called from the doorway. "Come here for a moment."

It was a challenge not to roll her eyes at her mother's use of the word dear, as she only said it around guests to come off as a doting mother. Hopping out of her seat, she met Avdima in the drawing room.

Her mother was seated on the dark blue sofa poised in front of the unnecessarily massive fireplace. She patted the seat beside her.

Ivy sat down, practising Occlumency as she suppressed the thoughts and emotions that would be unhelpful in this situation, which were all of them. Neither of her parents were Legilimens, but it was good practice since they were some of the last people she would want in her head.

"Once your friends leave," Avdima said coldly. "I'll need you to change into your best evening gown. Preferably, one that shows a little cleavage."

Ivy made a face, revolted by the request.

"Don't look at me like that," she narrowed her silver eyes dangerously. "You're fourteen now, surely you remember what that means."

Fuck, she thought, having indeed forgotten.

"Honestly," her mother sounded exasperated. "You'll need to do better than that. We Selwyns always have a battle strategy and not having one when it comes to marriage will not bode well for you."

"Being at war with my future husband," she drawled. "Doesn't sound much like a marriage."

"Don't," Avdima thumped her on the back of her head. "Sass me. Or you'll get much worse than this at the end of the night."

Ivy tried to soothe herself by picturing her mother burning alive.

"Your potential suitors will arrive at seven o'clock sharp. You will use makeup, magic, and some cutlets I bought since you appear to be lacking in the chest region. You will make yourself look pristine, elegant, and desirable."

Seething at the orders, she clenched her jaw tight.

"I know it pains you to smile," Avdima said patronisingly. "But you will do so. Flirt, but be discreet. You will dance with each suitor at least once and you will not let out any of those little snide remarks you so enjoy. If you don't have a husband picked out by the end of the night, I will pick one for you."

"I'm not cattle," Ivy said coolly. "You can't fatten me up and sell me to the highest bidder."

That earned her a sharp slap across the face. Restraint hanging by a thread, she touched her cheekbone with a finger. On the pad, there was a droplet of blood from where her mother's ring had nicked her.

"Giving you the option of who you marry," her mother hissed. "Is a courtesy. I will take it away if I get another comment like that. Understood?"

Ivy gave a terse nod.

"I said," Avdima glared at her. "Understood?"

"Yes, mother."

"Good," she got to her feet and smoothed down her raven robes. "Now, I'm going to grab the Black boy. Give him a tour of the Estate. He's the wealthiest of your potential husbands and would be the best prize."

With that, Avdima left to retrieve Regulus. When he arrived in the drawing room, she said nothing to neither her mother nor him, even as he gave her a questioning look, presumably in regards to the cut on her face.

Obeying her mother's orders, she led him on a tour, leading him through the rest of the mansion.

"That's the sitting room," Ivy pointed out blandly as they strayed further from her mother. "And that old hag you were just speaking with is a cunt whose murder I'm going to start planning this evening."

Regulus looked taken aback, eyes lingering on her cut. "Why is your cheek bleeding?"

"Why is Walburga your Boggart?" She snapped moodily.

"Alright, alright, jeeze," he frowned at her. "You know I can help with planning that murder, right?"

"I might take you up on that."

Ivy stopped as they neared the cellar door.

Green light flashed into her mind, the Killing Curse only allowing her to see the outline of her sister. A small, bleeding arm came to mind right after.

And that's the cellar," she said shakily.

Barely able to contain the rage simmering beneath her skin, she spun on her heel and headed for the double doors at the back of the ballroom. Regulus followed as she fled into the daylight, darting between the trimmed hedges. Making it to the secret garden within minutes, she swung open the door in the archway.

Taking in her and Hazel's hidden area, she trembled with fury. She hated the swing she used to sit on with her sister, the fountain they used to play in, the Moly plants in the corner that she used to heal Hazel with, and the ruins of the old Selwyn home.

Most of all, she hated that the garden was untainted, as though Hazel could come running through, screaming with laughter, at any moment.

Quickly kissing the pad of her index finger, she placed it briefly on the stone archway. Ignoring Regulus, who said her name from behind, she drew her wand and began flinging about every curse and Dark spell she could think of. She sliced down the swing, severed the tree branch that held it, threw a Bombarda Maxima at the fountain, then ripped down the old Selwyn house ruins with her bare hands.

Overwhelmed with hate, she channelled all of it into her magic until there was nothing left to destroy.

Regulus watched Ivy collapse in the stone archway, sobbing as she tucked her knees to her chest. Sitting beside her in the grass, he pulled her against him.

She tried to push him away at first, and had he thought she truly meant it, he would have released her. But he knew that she wasn't fighting him. There was clear evidence of this in the way that she quickly gave up to instead cling to his robes.

He'd never held Ivy before, but he thought that it felt right. The only parts that were wrong were her tears soaking into his robes and the cut on her face. Walburga could hurt him all she liked, but he wouldn't stand for that happening to Ivy. Truthfully, if she wanted to go through with murdering her mother, he would help gladly.

Subtly as he could, he breathed in her lavender scent, trying to calm his own flickering rage.

Regulus began stroking her hair in an attempt to console her as he looked around the Estate grounds that she had obliterated. There were broken tree branches and shattered stone everywhere. He could feel something jabbing into his lower back due to the awkward half-lying position he was in. But he wasn't about to jostle the crying witch in his arms.

If he was being quite honest, watching her destroy the garden had turned him on. It was one of the reasons he hadn't tried to stop her, along with understanding that she needed to let it out. Seeing her skillfully and gracefully throw vicious spell after vicious spell at inanimate objects, absolutely decimating everything in her path, had been one of the most attractive things he'd ever seen.

Of course, the stiffy it gave him had vanished the second she started crying.

When Ivy's sobs turned into the occasional sniffle, he pulled away to look at her.

Half her hair had come out of the ribbons that had held it in its typical bun. Her molten silver eyes very nearly knocked the words right out of his head, but he forced himself to focus on the redness around them instead.

"Do you want to tell me what that was about?" Regulus asked.

"My mother's a cunt."

"I gathered as much," he let out a small laugh. "For what it's worth, my mother is, too."

"I gathered as much," she teased half-heartedly. "I didn't mean to bring up Walburga earlier."

Regulus nodded, silently accepting her half-arsed apology.

Ivy fingered the collar of his robes. "My mother told me about tonight…"

"The auction," Regulus said distastefully.

While he was all for pureblood tradition in general, there were a few areas that needed improving. The way witches were used as societal pawns by their families and then only valued for breeding purposes was one of them.

"Yes, that," her voice quieted an octave. "Hazel died in the cellar, when I saw the door, I just… needed to get out of there."

"You never talk about her," Regulus said carefully. "That's the only thing you've told me about her death."

Ivy stiffened in his arms and he worried she would leave.

Instead, she stared at him hard, her face revealing nothing.

"It was the worst day of my life," she eventually said.

"I don't know what I would do if I lost Sirius," Regulus confessed, though it was a hard confession to accommodate. He agreed with his parents on most things, but he still had a soft spot for Sirius. Not that his older brother knew that. And not that he would ever tell him.

"That's why I lost it when I saw that cellar door. Things with Avdima and my future went tits up, then I was reminded of Hazel's death… I probably shouldn't have destroyed the only place she and I loved, but I have to admit, it felt amazing."

"It looked amazing."

Ivy smiled at him and he could've sworn he saw her eyes drop to his lips.

He ignored the thought of how soft her lips probably were. "The ribbons were Hazel's, weren't they?"

"How did you know that?"

"You never wore anything in your hair before she died."

"I'm surprised you noticed."

"Being on the quieter side usually lends itself to astuteness."

"Well, you're nothing if not clever," Ivy heaved a sigh. "We should probably get back."

"Probably. If your parents ask, I whisked you away for a romantic hands-free rendezvous."

She laughed and looked him over. "That sounds nice."

Regulus narrowed his eyes a fraction as she got to her feet.

There it was again, one of those statements that he couldn't differentiate between friendly and flirty. He didn't think that girls were more complicated, like Severus said when he brought them up - if anything, he'd found that it was usually blokes who were dense.

Regardless, he was not as clever with witches as he was with academics.

Ivy had turned on her charm for the night and found that the desired effects –or, more accurately, her mother's desired effects– came easily. She suspected that it was because she was dealing with horny wizards. While it was easy to charm them as they spun her around the ballroom, what she found difficult was not only breathing –as her mother had insisted that she wear a traditional corset– but also hiding her disgust.

She understood that with all the makeup, a few beauty-enhancing charms, and the dark blue gown she wore, she was an alluring sight to behold. Still, she didn't need to perform Legilimency to see that the majority of her suitors were thinking about taking her to bed.

And most of them weren't boys, but men. Men twice her age or older, who had come for the sole purpose of ogling fourteen-year-old goodies, much as she lacked goodies to ogle.

Ivy, of course, had no desire whatsoever to marry any of them.

If she wanted someone her own age, which she did, she only had a few options. Mulciber, Wilkes, and Rosier were in school with her, but they were cruel and wicked. The same problem arose with Avery, though he was easily the most tolerable of the bunch.

That just left Regulus and Rabastan Lestrange, a seventh year Slytherin. The former would be fabulous, except that she had no clue how to ask one of her best mates to marry her. The latter was a definite no; although Rabastan was quite courteous and handsome, there was no way Ivy was going to have family dinners with Bellatrix and Rodolphus.

So, the first chance she got, Ivy pulled Regulus from the gaudily decorated Selwyn Estate ballroom and into a darkened corridor. Voices from the party still reached her ears, but she was at least out of sight from the creeping eyes.

"This is awful." Turning her back to Regulus, she pulled her white hair over her shoulder. "Would you loosen my corset? I'm seeing stars."

Regulus abided by her wishes.

"Thank Merlin," she let out a relieved sigh as the corset loosened. "Now all we need to do is find a way to leave the country so I don't have to marry one of those tossers."

"They're all that bad?" He chuckled, reworking the laces.

"Worse," she turned to face him when he finished. "I told Rosier Sr. that we tried out for the Slytherin Quidditch team –left out how we all failed miserably, again– and he told me a woman's place is in the bed, not on a broom."

Regulus grimaced. "I'd have told him a woman's place is with a wand in her hand threatening to Avada him."

"Can you imagine the look on his face if I'd said that?"

"That's assuming he would hear you. He's, what, sixty?"

"Sixty-five. If I was married to him, I'd be counting."

"Counting the days until he dies, more like."

Laugh echoing down the corridor, Ivy clapped a hand over her mouth. The last thing she needed was to get caught avoiding the event, even if doing so was the most fun she'd had all night.

"Rabastan would be a good husband," Regulus avoided her gaze, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he leaned against the wall. "He's a lot closer in age than everybody else."

"I think he would be, too, but…"

"But what?"

"I don't know," Ivy rubbed her lips together, nervousness spiralling through her. "The only person here I could actually imagine marrying is, um… You."

"Me?" Regulus looked taken aback.

"Yes," she said softly.

"You want to marry me after Hogwarts?"

"I mean," she tried to think of a way to make the proposition seem less intense. "Seeing who my other choices are, I think you'd be the best option."

"Oh," he frowned.

"You know, if it's you or some old geezer," Ivy winced. "What I'm trying to say is that it would be mutually beneficial. You wouldn't get stuck with someone you don't know or like and neither would I."

"I'm your last resort, then?" Regulus's frown turned into a scowl.

"No! Not at all. I mean, a little because I don't have another choice, but-"

"You're really selling a happy marriage, you know that?"

"Look," Ivy panicked, trying to think of something that would sway him. "You could date whoever you want until we got married."

"You would want to date other people?"

"Don't you?" She realised too late that her tone made her sound as though she did.

"Wow," Regulus laughed mirthlessly. "Not only are you going to marry me as a last resort, like the lesser of two evils, but you also want to fuck around with other people until then?"

"This is coming out all wrong," she shook her head at herself. "I'm doing my best, I just- I've never asked someone to marry me before."

"It's fine," he said coolly. "We get a convenient marriage and can shag whoever we want before we're chained to each other for eternity."

"Who said anything about shagging other– chained? That is not what I meant by-"

"By calling me a last resort? That's what it sounded like."

He swept past her down the corridor and she called his name after him.

Ignoring her entirely, he slipped back into the party.

Tears pricked at her eyes as she felt the sudden rift between them grow wider with each passing second.

Usually, she was an expert at words and conflict. She'd grown to learn when to keep her mouth shut and typically knew precisely what to say to get her desired outcome. It was a skill that she'd consciously been honing, but what had just happened with Regulus wasn't at all what she had wanted. And she had no idea how to fix it.

The fact was, she had grown too comfortable with him; she wasn't in control when he was around. Things were too natural between them and the conversation they'd just had was proof that she needed to put an end to it.

Straightening her back as she made her decision, a cold barrier of calm settled over her. She would agree to marry him after Hogwarts, if he would still have to, until she found a way to get out of a marriage contract. But she couldn't let herself be so genuine with him again and risk letting something about Hazel slip.

What mattered was avenging her sister. Not some boy.