TWISTED by AViVA

Got me in the worst way, got me in the best way

Now you got me thinking you're no competition

Think you've got it twisted 'cause I've got you now

May 13th, 1978

"Now that we've done the protective enchantments," the Healer in his lime green uniform guided Ivy down the second-floor corridor of St. Mungo's. "You should be safe to visit your mother. In the off chance that you catch her illness, which is unlikely with how young you are, you'll most likely recover. Nonetheless," he stopped in the threshold of the Magical Bugs ward. "You'll need to sign a waiver of liability."

The big-nosed ginger wizard waved a beat-up looking wand and Ivy heard a whizzing sound. Looking down the way, a clipboard and quill zoomed along the ceiling, then dropped into her hands.

Ivy barely caught the items and fumbled momentarily. "There's no ink."

"Quill's enchanted," he nudged her playfully with an elbow. "Think we'd ever get anything done around here if we had to scramble for ink bottles every other minute?"

"Right," she signed the waiver in the requested areas and handed the clipboard back. "I don't think I caught your name?"

"Fabian Prewett," he took off down the corridor with a motion for her to follow.

Ivy was grateful his back was turned as she hurried along, since she realised both him and his brother, Gideon, were members of the Order of the Phoenix. He didn't know her to be a Death Eater, or she suspected he'd have a much frostier demeanour. It occurred to her that Pettigrew must only be feeding Death Eaters information on the Order, and not vice versa.

"Your mother's been in and out of consciousness," he said over his shoulder, slowing outside an open door. "We haven't been able to get more than gibberish out of her in her waking moments either. She's been very disoriented."

Prewett rapped his knuckle on the door and Ivy peeked inside to see her mother lying in the hospital bed, looking green. She didn't move, only continued to breathe deeply with a slight wheeze.

He sighed. "I assure you, she's getting the most excellent care we can provide. I still have faith that she can make a recovery, but she hasn't responded to any of our treatments thus far. I'd advise that you continue visiting her just in case."

Ivy knew what that was code for: unless she took a turn for the better, Avdima was probably going to die. Maybe not soon, but eventually.

"I understand you're in school," Prewett smiled. "What year are you?"

"I'm about to finish my sixth. Slytherin," she added before he could ask, as adults always asked.

"I knew a few Slytherins back in my day," his light brown eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. "Can't say they were very kind."

"Most of us haven't been raised to be so," Ivy cleared her throat, not wanting to linger on the subject. "Say, did Bellatrix Lestrange check in here too?"

"We're not allowed to disclose patient information," Prewett told her lightly. "But seeing as she isn't a patient here, I can confidently tell you that I'm not breaking any laws in saying so. Anyway, stay as long as you'd like. Just leave the door open so we can have quick access should you need anything."

With a nod, he took off briskly down the hallway.

Ivy waited until he disappeared from sight before approaching Avdima.

Her unconscious mother was looking a bit skinny, though the most prominent evidence of her illness was the pockmarks. They weren't just on her face either, but on every inch of exposed skin.

A worn, pale lavender armchair stood beside the bed and there was a bouquet of wilted Moly flowers on the table beside.

Ivy glanced over her shoulder, then slipped Ariadne's wand out of her sleeve, knowing she had to be quick.

"Draco Morbus," she pointed the wand, and there was a flash of yellow light as her mother's body gave a jerk.

Quickly sliding the wand back up her sleeve, she rounded the bed and curled into the armchair.

Feeling a set of eyes on her, Ivy jumped as she spotted Narcissa Malfoy in the doorway, holding a bouquet of black-stemmed flowers.

"Merlin," Ivy said in a high-pitched voice. "You scared me."

"Apologies," she dipped her head, cheeks pinkening. "I thought I'd stop in to visit your mother on my way out, I didn't know anyone else would be here."

"It's alright," her racing heart calmed, as Narcissa didn't seem to have noticed her cursing Avdima. "Are those for my mother?"

"Yes," she tucked a strand of long blonde hair behind her ear and stepped in. "I was told you like Moly flowers." She moved to toss the wilted blossoms into a nearby waste bin and put the new ones in the vase, gently perking them up with slender, manicured fingers. "I thought they may be of comfort when you came to visit her."

"They're my favourite. How did you know?"

"I wrote to my cousin -rather, your betrothed- when your mother fell ill to ask how I might help. Regulus told me Moly flowers may make you feel better."

She swallowed against the lump in her throat. In her and Hazel's sanctuary at Selwyn Estate, they'd always kept Moly flowers in bloom so they could heal each other's wounds. She'd never told anyone, but this made her sure Regulus had made the connection.

"I see," Ivy said. "Were you visiting someone? I didn't think Bellatrix had been admitted."

"No," Narcissa went to close the door, leaving it open just a crack, as Ivy hadn't known she was allowed to do. "I- We are trying for a baby."

"Oh."

"I started fertility treatment a while ago," she sat timidly on the edge of Avdima's bed. "There's a lot of methods, and the last one didn't work, so they've started me on a potion. We'll see if anything comes of it."

"I'm sure you'll get there," she told her for lack of anything else to say.

"I hope so," Narcissa's voice cracked, and she procured a handkerchief, dabbing at her eyes. "Here I am getting emotional when your own mother is in this state."

"It's alright," Ivy said. "I'd rather not think about it, to be honest. Do go on."

"Thank you," she smiled gratefully, blue eyes still watery. "I don't really have anyone to talk to about it. Bella never wanted a family, so she doesn't understand, and there aren't many other women my age to talk to."

She nodded.

"I've wanted to be a mother my entire life," Narcissa continued quietly. "It's all I've ever wanted. To have someone that's mine."

"Surely, you have that with your husband."

"Lucius," she laughed darkly. "Belongs to no one."

"Where is he?" Ivy decided better than to tell her that she'd always found Lucius to be a pompous git. "Is he waiting with the Welcome Witch?"

"He never comes to fertility treatments. I want a son, but he wants an heir. As long as I provide one eventually, he doesn't want to be bothered with the details."

"It must be hard doing this on your own," she said softly.

"It is."

"Well," Ivy said slowly. "If you'd like, we could coordinate our visits. I got permission to come here again next month on the thirteenth. Perhaps you could try to schedule one of your appointments that day."

Having her around would make it more difficult to curse her mother without being seen. However, Ivy only visited Avdima so that she could ensure her death. The curse took mere seconds, so the remainder of her visits would likely be spent sitting alone, bored or brooding. If it meant she could avoid those things and provide comfort to an evidently miserable and lonely woman, it was worth it. Not to mention, adding another high society pureblood to her roster would make her look good in the eyes of their mutual community.

"I don't want to be a burden," Narcissa said hesitantly.

"You wouldn't be," Ivy insisted. "Really, I could use the company."

She brightened considerably. "I would enjoy that."

"Then it's settled," she smiled.

May 25th, 1978

"Come on, Professor, please!" Ivy begged.

"The Astronomy Tower is out of bounds outside of class," Sinistra said firmly, continuing down the corridor, her astrological patterned olive robes swishing as she went.

"I need to talk to the Bloody Baron," Ivy followed her. "It's a matter of urgency. I heard him go up there, if you could just let me in, I'll be in and out in five minutes."

The Professor stopped and Ivy skidded to a halt. "What do you need to speak with him so urgently about?"

Hesitating, she tried to come up with a good excuse. "I left my textbook up there and he-"

"Miss Selwyn," Sinistra snapped. "You stopped taking Astronomy last year so unless you've been breaking school rules, you did not leave a textbook up there. Now, do you want to lose House points for lurking somewhere you shouldn't have been, or do you want to tell me the truth and have a small chance of getting into the Astronomy Tower?"

She tried not to glower, clenching her jaw tightly.

"Well, then," the Professor drawled. "Your need cannot be that urgent, can it? Please cease your pestering, as I want to go enjoy my evening tea."

Sinistra swept off down the corridor.

Ivy let out a foul sound of frustration, causing a cluster of third year Ravenclaws to look her way fearfully. Stalking over, she was for once pleased about being so tall, as she towered over even the tallest child in the group.

"Any of you know where I can find the Grey Lady?" She barked.

"Sh-She was in the Transfiguration classroom earlier," one of the girls stuttered.

"Thanks," Ivy growled, storming off in the direction of the ground floor.

Huffing and muttering angrily to herself, students did their best to dodge her tirade as she went.

She'd found out the hard way that the Bloody Baron and Grey Lady were the only ghosts in the school that might be able to help her. Having caught Nearly Headless Nick at a bad time, he'd gone on a polite yet lengthy rant about how he preferred to be called Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, before telling her he knew nothing about Death Magic. He then referred her to the Fat Friar, who told her the same. Though he, at least, confirmed that the Grey Lady and Bloody Baron were the only ghosts in the castle old enough to know anything about the subject.

Reaching the ground floor, she passed through the Middle Courtyard, ignoring the brilliance of the coral pink sunset. Stopping outside the Transfiguration classroom, she took a few calming breaths before opening the door.

The Grey Lady was inside, reading beside a blue-flamed candle. The book was as transparent as the rest of her, which was confusing, but not the reason she had come.

"Hello," Ivy closed the door behind herself.

"I do not know where my mother's diadem is," she said haughtily, snapping her book closed and making to vanish through the wall. "For the third time today."

"That's not what I was going to ask!" She said quickly, tugging her robes tighter around herself as the room was freezing.

Helena Ravenclaw halted and returned to bob gently a metre away. "What do you wish to inquire?"

"The Fat Friar said you might be able to tell me about Death Magic."

"Why do you want to know about Death Magic?"

Ivy was at a loss for how to explain herself. Frankly, she hadn't thought she was going to get as far as a ghost asking her why. Mentioning Could probably wouldn't do much, as talking to strange people in mirrors wasn't exactly common. She settled for: "It's a long story."

"You are friends with him," the apparition shook her head, causing her waist-length hair to swish. "I do not like him. I know about the blemish of death on your arm. Goodbye."

"I know," she said hastily as the Grey Lady turned away. "I know, I'm a bloody omen of death! That doesn't mean I'm pure fucking evil!"

"What did you say?" She stopped halfway through the wall, facing away from Ivy.

"I'm not pure fucking evil," she repeated hopefully.

"No. You said you are an omen of death. How do you know this?"

"How do I know?" She echoed. "I mean Dumbledore called me it once. And I can, you know, see stuff. Death stuff."

Helena Ravenclaw remained where she was, still and silent.

"I'm not explaining well," Ivy said nervously. "Look, I can see imprints, I guess, of death. On places and people."

The ghost turned around suddenly, moving closer. "I know of three books that mention Death Magic."

Ivy watched her with unabashed eagerness.

"The first is Magick Moste Evile. The second is Ancient Divination. The third is That Which Is Natural and That Which Is Not."

"Thank you," she breathed.

"Two of these books you will find in this castle," the Grey Lady added. "The other, you will not."

"You have no idea how much I appreciate your help. Can you tell me where in the castle the book is? I've already been through Magick Moste Evile, I'm referring to the other one."

"I have not seen it in a long time," Helena Ravenclaw said. "I only know that it is still here."

June 5th, 1978

Stealing into the lavatory, Ivy found Severus sitting cross-legged on the floor. He was in the centre of a clean-cut circle, which was the only patch of the tiled floor that wasn't wet. The toilet water that flowed towards the circle was rebuffed at the edges and slid away, unable to penetrate his ring. With him was a large black cauldron, which he was staring into with a look of rapture.

"Is Moaning Myrtle going to be joining us?" Ivy asked loudly, hoping to get her appearance out of the way. "I know you're here, all the candle flames are blue."

A gurgling sound came from a toilet whose stall door was hanging off the hinges.

"She's scared of me," Severus gazed lovingly into the cauldron.

"Why's she scared of you?" Ivy walked into the dry circle and took off her shoes, not wanting to track toilet water all over the area.

"Technically, this potion falls under the realm of Blood Magic. Much as she doesn't like it, though, it doesn't stop her from listening in."

Ivy accepted his warning with a nod, sitting down and putting her book bag aside.

"It's nearly ready," Severus threw a dash of some herb into the mixture. "Just a few more minutes and we can add your blood. Then, depending on what colour it turns, we'll know if it'll work."

"How much of my blood do we need?"

"Just three drops. We'll have to be careful, any more will render it unusable."

"Alright," she glanced up at him. "I can't believe you're going to be the apprentice to Damocles Belby."

"If I interview well."

"You'll do fine," she rolled her eyes. "If anyone could keep up with the inventor of the Wolfsbane Potion, it's you."

"He's got an Order of Merlin, I'm not that good."

"Says the youngest ever Wizarding School Potions Championship Winner. I couldn't do what you do."

"Obviously. You're rotten at potions."

"At least I know how to stay on a broom," she scoffed.

"I'm not the one who lost us the Quidditch Cup to Hufflepuff."

"Don't bring that up," she pressed her fingers into her eyes, shaking her head. "It's not my fault Stebbins has good aim."

"It's time," Severus suddenly straightened. "Hold out your hand."

Ivy did as she was told, and he used her Slicing Spell to cut the palm of her hand. Wincing, he grasped her fingers and carefully let three drops of blood fall into the potion. When the third drop landed, the potion let out a puff of steam and she yanked her hand back.

"Did it-"

"Be quiet," he snapped, now on his knees as he watched the potion keenly.

She matched his position and watched as the pearly sheened mixture slowly turned silver.

Severus gave a sharp clap and pumped a fist triumphantly.

"Drink it," he pulled a drab goblet from his bag and ladled some of the iridescent liquid into it. "The effects should be instantaneous."

Without hesitation, she took the goblet and downed the contents.

While there was no physical sensation, there was certainly a visual difference.

Small bits of black ash were floating away from the stall with the dangling door, vanishing into nothing when they got far enough away. She'd only been able to see the ashy feature out of the corner of her eye before, and when she occasionally got lucky enough to see it head on, the ashes vanished instantly.

"Well?" Severus prompted.

Grey ashes were floating off him too. Luckily, they weren't prominent enough that she would have trouble focusing. They were there, and they were obvious, but in the same way that clothes were. She could take notice of them without them being the only thing on her mind.

"It works," she told him breathlessly, standing up.

Ivy found herself in a dusty, spotted mirror to their right. The same grey ashes were floating soundlessly and lazily off her limbs.

Her opal ring and black ribbons, however, were giving off light grey ashes.

Looking about the room, the differences became clearer to her.

The ashes were black on the stall, but dark grey on her and Severus. Light grey flitted away from her ring and ribbons, as well as the pin of Severus's cloak, which had been tossed over his bookbag. She guessed that when he committed his initiation murder, part of his soul had latched onto the pin of his cloak, like hers had the previous summer when she nearly died. It was the only explanation as to why his item was giving off the same ashes as her own.

That just left the question of why her ribbons had the same light grey quality as the other objects.

She had assumed that committing murder split the soul. But she hadn't killed Hazel, and yet her soul had evidently split when her sister was killed.

Ivy could make no sense of it.

The only thing she now had a better understanding of was why her ribbons hadn't disintegrated when they fell into her potion back in October.

"You alright?" Severus asked.

"Yeah," she shook herself.

Bending down, she rifled through her bag, then drew out a massive sack of Galleons.

"Absolutely not," he got to his feet.

"I want an endless supply of this stuff," she ignored him. "So I'm also going to pay you for every batch you make me."

"Forget it," he wrapped his cloak around his shoulders.

"If you don't take it, I'll use my modified Bat Bogey Hex on you. You don't want to be like Ariadne, sneezing out bats for the foreseeable future, do you?"

"You're bluffing," he hesitated.

"Try me."

Severus glared at her.

Ivy quirked an eyebrow.

He reluctantly stuck out his hand. "I hate you."

"Sure you do," she passed over the heavy pouch.

June 17th, 1978

"Cheers!" Regulus knocked his tankard of spiked gillywater against the others' drinks. "To Severus!"

Ivy, Theya, and Frederick echoed him loudly. Severus looked around the Leaky Cauldron self-consciously, though no one in the crowded, noisy pub was paying them any attention. The five of them collectively tapped their fifth round of alcoholic beverages against the wooden table, then tilted their heads back to take long drinks.

"Would you please tell us already?" Theya sloppily wiped the foam from her mouth onto the back of her sleeve.

"We all know he got the job," Regulus waved a hand.

"I need confirmation," Ivy demanded.

"Out with it already," Frederick smirked.

"You're all a bunch of nutters," Severus said dryly. "Clearly, I got it."

Theya let out a screech of excitement and twisted in her seat to hug her boyfriend, who was red-faced, while the rest of them hooted and hollered.

"Would you keep it down?" Severus said half-heartedly, as he seemed to be stifling laughter.

"It's Saturday night, you think anyone cares?" Regulus rolled his eyes. "I bet everyone here is already pissed. Isn't that right?" He shouted.

Other bargoers cheered and Regulus was sure they didn't know what they were cheering for.

"Besides," Ivy added. "You got a job with one of the most prestigious potioneers straight out of Hogwarts, that's something to be loud about."

"And he got his own flat," Theya winked at Ivy.

Regulus, Ivy, Theya, and Frederick stomped their feet in celebration, making the floor shake.

Severus leaned back in his chair, looking resigned. "What do you lot plan to do when you graduate?"

"I'm gonna be an Unspeakable," Ivy said.

"I didn't know that." Regulus was too drunk to recall whether that was true.

"I want to know what the Ministry is hiding from us," she squinted at him like she was having a hard time seeing him. "Working for the Department of Mysteries, where everything is so top secret that you're not even allowed to tell coworkers what you're doing? How wicked would that be?"

"I'm going to work for the Ministry too," Theya was swaying back and forth in her seat even though there wasn't any music. "Not sure what position, I just want to figure out people's juicy secrets."

"You want to be the centre of the gossip mill," Regulus snorted. "Shocker."

Theya stuck out her tongue at him.

"What about you?" Frederick nodded in his direction.

"Me?" He blinked in surprise. "Dunno yet. I'm good at DADA but clearly I'm not cut out to be an Auror."

They all snickered.

"I don't know either," Frederick laughed. "At least we've got another year to figure it out, eh?"

Regulus murmured his agreement and finished off his drink.

"I want ish cream," Theya slurred.

"Still?" Severus smirked.

"Everybody up," Ivy stood, swaying on the spot, and Frederick grabbed her arm to steady her. "We're going to Forrin's."

"Flor-ean's," Theya enunciated.

"I might be too pissed to walk," Severus said reluctantly.

"You would deny your girlfriend ice cream," Ivy leaned over the table to stare him down. "After she just graduated?"

Frederick nicked her tankard of spiked pumpkin juice.

"I saw that!" Regulus gasped.

"You see who?" Ivy asked.

"No one," Frederick stood and put his arm around her for support. "Let's go get ish cream."

Theya jumped up and did a little dance as they tossed their Sickles onto the table.

Departing from the Leaky Cauldron into Wizarding London, they stumbled their way toward Diagon Alley under the streetlamps. The roads were mostly empty, which Regulus thought was in their favour, as everyone except Frederick appeared to be completely sloshed.

Ivy and Theya walked ahead of the boys, zig-zagging but headed in generally the right direction. Or, Regulus thought it was the right direction. No, he guessed it was the right direction.

"Where're we?" Regulus slurred.

"Don't worry," Frederick assured him. "We're going the right way."

Theya tripped and landed on the ground in a fit of wild giggles, causing Severus to run forward and help her up. Ivy laughed hard as the golden-haired witch was helped to her feet, and shoved herself between Severus and Theya as they continued walking. She slung her arms around their shoulders.

"Walking like this," he heard her say. "You two probably look like my bitches."

Regulus and Frederick cracked up as Severus shoved her into Theya, who flipped her boyfriend off and announced loudly that she was going to date Ivy from now on.

"What a handful," Frederick laughed. "I do enjoy them though."

"Me too," Regulus nodded vigorously.

Frederick glanced at him sidelong as they rounded a corner. "I wanted to say, I'm sorry for being such a prick."

Not sure he'd heard him correctly, he squinted at Ivy's boyfriend, trying to fight off the drunken haze long enough to fully grasp his words.

"Ivy told me what happened," Frederick added.

"She did?"

"Yeah, that Ariadne got between you two."

"Ariadne's a cunt," he said cheerfully. "I hope she dies."

"Suppose you've got a right to. Anyhow, now that I know you didn't break Ivy's heart, I was hoping we could get on better terms."

"Sure, mate," Regulus forgot what he was agreeing to as he spoke.

"Great," he grinned.

As they approached Florean's, Regulus saw that their other companions had already arrived. Severus was sitting at one of the outdoor tables, his head propped up by a hand. His eyes were closed, and he looked ready to nod off. Ivy and Theya, on the other hand, were joined together in a hug, crying.

"I love y'too," Theya slurred. "I hope you know that."

"I do know that," Ivy pulled away, sniffling. "You have no idea how much I know that."

He watched her, amused, as she stumbled over to Severus and ruffled his hair. He nearly jumped out of his skin and Regulus doubled over in laughter.

"I love you too," Ivy told Severus sweetly.

"Mhm," Severus laid his head on the table, closing his eyes again. "Love y'too, Mum."

"What about me?" Frederick grinned.

"I love you as well!" Ivy tackled him with a hug, and he took a few steps back, laughing heartily.

Thankfully, Regulus was drunk enough that it didn't sting quite as bad as usual.

When Ivy separated herself from her boyfriend, she walked over to Regulus and gave him a tentative hug around the waist. Instinctively, he squeezed her back, breathing in that intoxicating scent of lavender she always wore. After a moment, he pulled away, as she didn't seem like she was going to. Much as he would have loved to stay in her embrace forever, even pissed he had enough respect for her to refrain.

"As for you," Ivy smiled up at him, and he was again stunned by her beauty, enough that all the thoughts went straight out of his head. "I never thanked you for the flowers."