I am not a woman, I'm a god by Halsey
Every day I've got a smile where my frown goes
A couple bodies in the garden where the grass grows
I take 'em with me to the grave in a suitcase
Maybe I could be a different human in a new place
February 14th, 1979
Ivy listened to the waters from the Black Lake lapping at the window and contemplated her beaten copy of Muggles Who Notice by Blenheim Stalk. The pages were rough around the edges from being buried under six years worth of junk at the bottom of her trunk. Having rediscovered the book earlier that day when conducting a truly desperate search for a bottle of ink, it now sat beside her in the small windowed alcove beside her bed.
"Alright," Theya cleared her throat. "How do I look?"
Ivy watched the bent over witch fasten the straps of her shiny heels, then straighten and shimmy so her glitzy gold dress fell properly over her curves. Hair pulled up in a twist and pinned to the back of her head, she wore rosy makeup that enhanced her naturally cheery features.
"Fit," she said honestly, rising from her seat to run a hand down the front of her slitted silver gown. "Me?"
"Well, it could use some jewellery."
Ivy squinted at her. "I'll put it all back on when I'm damn good and ready."
Theya scrunched her nose.
Evidently, Severus had not divulged why Ivy wasn't wearing her adornments, as recently, his girlfriend had made it her mission to pry the answer out of her. Not being in the know was driving Theya absolutely bonkers, making the situation that much more enjoyable for Ivy.
"I'm just saying," she stalked to the door, looking put-out. "I think a certain opal ring and ribboned updo would go nicely with the silver."
Shaking her head, Ivy waited until she was gone before glancing at Muggles Who Notice. She allowed herself a few moments of debate in which she repeatedly twitched towards the book, then away. Eventually, she grabbed it, heading in the direction of the Common Room.
Descending the stairs, she located Theya, who was leaning against the carved mantelpiece beside the fire, presumably bragging to the envious fourth years who had gathered round to ogle her gown.
Regulus was at the base of the Dormitory stairs, his shoulder-length hair looking distinctly voluminous and tugable. Her eyes wandered over the black dress robes hugging his lean frame, causing her to curiously picture what she knew was beneath and ponder how his form might've changed since she'd last seen him naked.
"Like what you see, huh?" He asked smoothly, not bothering with discretion as his gaze returned the favour, eyes lingering on the sway of her hips as she neared the bottom of the staircase.
"I was appreciating the fine tailoring," Ivy stepped off the last stair with a feigned air of indifference.
"Not sure that's all you were appreciating," Regulus drawled.
"I could say the same for you," she cocked her hip.
"You know," his eyes darkened. "If you want to see what's underneath this fine tailoring, all you have to do is ask."
Sorely tempted to take him up on the offer, Theya's question from New Years pounced into mind: Why won't you let him prove that he can be who you need?
Her response had seemed reasonable at the time; she didn't definitively know if she could trust him with the story of her sister - with the truest version of herself, which she'd shrouded in mists of half-truths for years. Because not only was she softer than he knew, she was also more vicious.
She had also given the reason of Frederick; he'd been in the ground for less than a year and she didn't like what wanting Regulus so soon after said about her. She'd begun healing from his death, but this only increased her guilt.
Reasonable as both justifications may be, her resolve was weakening with each day that Regulus scorned the Dark Lord under his breath, with each day that he looked at her with a possessive wildfire in his eyes that said he was willing to raze anyone who wronged her.
And that was just it - she knew that he was not only willing, but he would.
All it would take from Ivy was a single word.
She craved him in this way especially, but was poignantly aware that together, they would be catastrophic for the world. And yet, perhaps catastrophe was exactly the role they needed to play in order to right the world.
Ivy held out Muggles Who Notice. "Here. This is for you."
"A Valentine's Day gift?" He leaned against the wall beside the staircase and his scent of pine trees washed over her.
"No," she instinctively leaned into the smell and although his eyes remained focused on the book, the corner of his mouth twitched up. "It's a gift that I just happen to be giving you on Valentine's day."
"Any gift given on Valentine's Day is a Valentine's Day gift." Regulus stuck his free hand into his robes, rummaging in them before procuring a single Moly flower. "This makes my Valentine's Day gift much less awkward."
Tucking the book beneath his arm, he stepped closer, slowly easing the black-stemmed flower behind her ear, brown eyes flickering between her silver hues and the blossom. Of its own accord, her head angled into his touch as his fingers lightly traced her jaw down to her chin, which he gently tilted back.
"Had I known we were going to end up each other's dates to Slughorn's party," Regulus grinned. "I'd have gotten you more than one flower."
She opened her mouth to protest.
"Before you continue contradicting everything I say," Regulus moved his hand from her chin down to her hip, slowly putting pressure there until her back hit cold stone. "Ask yourself, what about this interaction says platonic?"
Ivy tried to think of something to say that wouldn't get her into more trouble, despite desperately wanting more trouble. After a moment, she settled on: "Where were you keeping that flower? It should've been crushed in your robes."
Regulus chuckled and leaned in.
With a tantalising heartbeat of anticipation, her eyes fluttered closed and she arched into him expectantly. When his lips didn't meet her mouth, but instead brushed against her ear, the touch fled down her spine to light a fire between her legs.
"I'm not going to kiss you," he said huskily. "Until you decide to behave."
"Behave?" She echoed mindlessly.
"Yes," his mouth grazed her ear again, in a way she knew was purposeful. "Behave; tell me exactly what you're thinking."
"What makes you think that'll ever happen?" Ivy whispered purely out of spite.
He laughed quietly and she felt him harden against her hip. It was all she could do to not groan and needily grind her pelvis against his. She vividly recalled how it felt to have his hips snap against hers, how it felt to be claimed by him, his mouth, his body.
Frederick waded through her hazy mind, but all she could think was that he'd never made her feel quite like this; alight with an agonising need so shameless that she would gladly scorch the earth if only so she could touch him again.
"You will decide to behave," Regulus murmured. "Because I'm the only one who can give you what you want."
"And what's that?" Ivy breathed.
"Me." He instantly broke all bodily contact, leaving her cold in his absence, to stand at a pointedly platonic distance, flashing her a wicked look before nonchalantly fixing his cufflinks. "Undetectable Extension Charms work on more than just bags."
"You-" She halted the furious tirade she was about to go on to stare at him in confusion. "Huh?"
He just grinned at her, taking the book back into hand. "Why Muggles Who Notice, by the way? I mean, I'll read just about anything, but this isn't the sort of thing you usually pick out for me."
"Sirius gave it to me," Ivy folded her arms, trying to calm the frustration between her legs.
Regulus's smirk vanished. "When was this?"
"At the end of first year. Right before you two got in that little brawl."
"Why do you still have it?" He ran a thumb over the battered cover.
"I found it in the bottom of my trunk," Ivy said evasively. "And thought you might like to have it."
Catching Theya's eye over his shoulder, she realised she'd been watching with an odd smile from beside the Common Room door. Upon locking eyes, Theya leaned down and pretended to be busy adjusting the straps on her heels, and Ivy rolled her eyes.
Regulus followed her gaze and released a quiet sigh before offering his arm. "I suppose we'd better get on before we're late."
Taking his arm, they gathered Theya and went on their way.
Sipping her nutmeg-spiked pumpkin juice in silence, Ivy leaned against a red-draped wall of Slughorn's office, observing her Head of House from a distance. His head of thinning straw-colored hair was bobbing drunkenly at something Lily Evans was saying.
The party had rapidly died over the past hour; Regulus had retired due to boredom, and Theya had departed mere minutes ago with Severus in hopes of fitting in a quick shag before curfew. Most other attendees left when the enchanted instruments in the corner began playing droopy tunes as though they were beginning to wilt with exhaustion.
The once roaring room had descended into dour violin notes and quiet murmurs, as only a smattering of people were left. Five middle-aged wizards lingered by the door, keeping upright only thanks to each others' support. Meanwhile, a seventh year Hufflepuff, Dirk Cresswell, chatted with Adrian Cense, who had finally ceased taking photographs.
Thinking on the near-emptiness of the office, Ivy discreetly ran a hand over her chest to make sure the perfume bottle of Veritaserum was still lodged in her bra. A swipe of her fingers over her thigh told her the hazel wand was still secure. Despite having repeated the motions fifty times that night, she still worried one of her items was going to come dislodged.
"Selwyn."
Startled from her thoughts, she found that Evans had appeared by her side, long auburn hair twisted over her shoulder to rest on the front of her coral pink gown.
"What do you want?" Ivy asked snottily, keeping an eye on Slughorn as he bumbled over to Cresswell and Cense.
"I wanted to give you my condolences. For Avery."
"You want to offer your condolences for Avery?" She repeated snidely. "Is that supposed to be some kind of sick joke?"
"No," she sighed, fiddling with the ends of her hair. "Though I see why you might think so."
"Then why bother?" She watched as Cresswell and Cense departed, causing Slughorn to stumble over to the cluster of wizards.
Evans cocked her head curiously. She then leaned in as though to establish some form of confidence, lowering her voice to an octave Ivy could hardly hear. "I haven't forgotten."
Ivy narrowed her eyes, making the educated assumption that she was referring to the incident between Mulciber and MacDonald back in fourth year.
"I often wondered," the redhead said softly. "Why someone like you would do something like that."
"I've no idea what you're on about," she spun on a heel to make a beeline for Slughorn.
"Marlene told me."
Freezing mid step, she felt like the wind had been knocked right out of her lungs. Mind spinning itself into a frenzy over all the things that were about to go wrong, she slowly turned back to Evans. "Told you what?"
"You know what," the redhead's bright emerald eyes were piercing. "But you needn't worry. I've not told another soul and neither has she. Neither of us will."
"She told you." Laughing bitterly, she spared a glance about the room to ensure no one was listening. Fortunately, Slughorn and his drunken mates were paying them no mind. "Why should I believe either of you can keep your mouths shut?"
"She and I had a drunken night involving Veritaserum," Evans waved a manicured hand irritably. "Neither of us plan to repeat it. And we know how delicate your position is, so you have our word that we will never jeopardise it."
Wary as she was of holding someone to their word over such a fragile secret, and as much as she'd not liked -and oftentimes envied- Evans, there wasn't much she could do except try to trust her. And although Marlene's abandonment still wounded her deeply, some part of her knew she had meant well.
"You've not told your fiance, then?" Ivy evaluated her opponent turned abettor. "Or his… friends?"
There was one Marauder in particular that she was worried about; Peter Pettigrew. He had advanced from being the Dark Lord's informant to an official Death Eater. Not only that, but he was due to receive his Dark Mark.
"No," the redhead said firmly. "They haven't heard a thing and they never will." Evans paused. "Marlene might not want me to tell you this, but… She misses you. She regrets how she handled things."
Swallowing against the lump in her throat, she cast another look in Slughorn's direction to find him ushering the five sloshed wizards out the door. Knowing they would be asked to leave next, trepidation nestled in her gut.
"I hope for all our sakes," Ivy narrowed her eyes at Evans meaningfully. "That this doesn't mean you're going to go easy on me."
"Never," Evans smiled.
As understanding passed between them, she felt the corner of her mouth curve up.
"M'girls!" Slughorn tottered over, half-filled goblet in hand. "You'd best head back to your Dormitories, don't want to be out past curfew, eh?"
"I'm no longer a student, Horace," Evans laughed.
"'Course not," he frowned. "Diddn' say you were… Nevertheless, nevertheless, off you go."
They headed for the door. When the redhead swept into the dim corridor and began on her way, Ivy paused. She needed to catch Slughorn before he passed out in a drunken stupor, but as she watched Evans go, unease prickled at her.
"Wait," she called, hurrying to catch up with her. "There's something you need to know."
"Oh?" Evans stopped in her tracks, leaving them to linger halfway down the otherwise empty corridor.
"There's a rat in your midst," she said quietly.
"A rat?"
"Someone you can't trust," she spoke as low as she could manage. "He's been an informant for almost a year. He'll be initiated for the Mark soon."
"He?" The redhead stepped closer, looking grave.
"If I told you," Ivy hesitated, realising this may not have been the brightest idea. "That this person is very close to you, that it's someone you probably trust with your life, would you believe me?"
Evans was still as a cat before slowly shaking her head. "No."
"Well," Ivy looked back at Slughorn's open office door. "If you decide to trust me, owl me. Keep it brief, and make sure neither the owl nor the message can be traced back to either of us."
The redhead inclined her head, looking disturbed as she bid her farewell and went on her way.
Watching until she rounded the corner and vanished in a swish of coral, Ivy took a breath. Throwing back her shoulders, she walked back to the office.
Loitering in the doorway, she watched Slughorn's back. He was drinking from the goblet in his left hand while simultaneously waving his wand, thus reorganising the room. The red drapes over the walls rolled up to the ceiling and snapped out of sight, revealing shelves of ingredients and potions equipment that had been previously concealed. A door on the opposite end of the room opened and furniture including a desk setup, locked cabinet, and two armchairs walked themselves to the centre of the room.
Slughorn looked about to check his work and jumped upon seeing her. "Merlin's beard! I thought you'd left, Ms. Selwyn! Did you need something?"
"Might I have a word?" Ivy said tentatively.
Slughorn frowned longingly at the door from which the furniture had come, which she now could see led to sleeping quarters.
"I'll be quick," she said hurriedly. "I was hoping you might loan me a textbook. I'm afraid my attempt at the Wolfsbane Potion went awry and, well, my copy is now useless."
"You never were my best Potions student," he grumbled, stomping in the direction of his chambers.
"I'd have waited until tomorrow," she followed closely behind him, watching his stride for an opportunity. "But the three rolls you assigned are due tomorrow and-"
Spotting a quiver in his drunken walk, she kicked out a foot, making contact with the back of his knee. This sent him sprawling onto the ground, the contents of his goblet spilling across the stone floor.
"Professor!" Ivy seized the goblet as Slughorn groaned.
Turning away, she clumsily procured the perfume bottle from her bra and unscrewed it, pouring the remaining Veritaserum into the receptacle. Heart slamming against her ribcage, she shoved the bottle and stopper back into her bra, turning in time to watch Slughorn get to his feet, thoroughly disoriented.
"Here, Professor." Withdrawing her wand from the strap on her thigh, she pointed it into the goblet. "Aguamenti!"
"Thank you m'girl," he took the goblet and knocked it back while she hastily put her wand away. "Looks like the hooch got the better of me."
"How do you feel?" Ivy asked evenly.
"Legless," the Potions Master said immediately. "And excited to feign sickness so that I might sleep the day away tomorrow."
Slughorn hiccuped and frowned down at the goblet. Then, he looked at her sharply, as though jolted into sobriety. He tensed, then bolted for the locked cabinet in the centre of the room.
"Bollocks." A jolt ran through her and she moved to put the desk between them. "Slughorn, do you know anything about the Dark Lord that others might not?"
"Yes - damn you!" He growled, brandishing a key that he fumbled to insert into the lock. "Damn you!"
"What do you know about the Dark Lord that others do not?" She spoke as clearly as possible around the fear that shook her body.
"He knows about Horcruxes-" Slughorn's neck twisted unnaturally as he tried to fight the effects, throwing the cabinet door open in a frenzy. "I told him how to make them."
Horcrux - she had heard the term before, but where?
"What else do you know about the Dark Lord that others do not?" Ivy pressed.
"He asked if it was possible to make seven-" He swiped a corked vial, the veins in his neck bulging as his head twisted again, and he let out a cry of pain. "I-I told him to keep quiet about what we discussed."
Before she could form another question, the Professor uncorked the vial and gulped down what she assumed was an antidote. Panting with his head hung, he leaned over the desk between them, white-knuckled as he gripped the edges.
"What did you do?" Slughorn asked hoarsely.
Wanting to arm herself with her wand, her fingers twitched towards it.
"WHAT DID YOU DO?" He roared, head whipping up to reveal fury in his gooseberry eyes and beads of sweat that dripped down the sides of his red face.
Ivy had the decent to flinch, terror passing through her, making her cold.
Incensed, her Head of House rounded the desk to tower over her threateningly. She shrunk back, as his demeanour was so wrathful and unforgiving that visions of Rhaen's fist rearing back flashed before her eyes. A hand grabbed her roughly by the upper arm, hard enough to bruise, and began dragging her into a corridor.
Regulus yawned and rolled onto his back in front of the Slytherin Common Room's fireplace as he finished another paragraph of The Secrets of Darkness. Late as it was, he was alone aside from a couple of first years who had dozed off while studying at a nearby table.
Frustratingly, he was only two thirds of the way through the book. The amount of schoolwork he was receiving in preparation for N.E.W.T.s was taking up nearly every spare minute. He had hoped for a day of overview upon returning from Winter Holidays so he could finish the book in one sitting, thus hopefully impressing Ivy. But alas, he was put straight to work, which gave him only enough time to read a page or two per day.
As his eyelids began to droop, he descended upon the last page of the chapter, once again wondering what Ivy was hoping he would get out of it. Thus far, he'd only been educated on the dark history of humanoid magical beings such as veela, giants, vampires, and goblins.
Finishing the chapter, he rubbed his eyes and flipped the page, then sat bolt upright.
The chapter title of Squibs hadn't caught his eye, but the inked in circle around it did. Slipping a black bookmark into the crease, he turned back to the Table of Contents in the front.
There, Squibs was also circled.
Regulus groaned loud enough that the sleeping first years started awake to stare at him.
"Bugger off," he snapped.
The little Slytherins eyes went wide and they scrambled for their study items, then went running for the Boys Dormitory.
Muttering under his breath, he skipped back to the bookmarked page and began to skim for any other ink markings, running a hand through his hair to push it out of his eyesight. After seven pages of searching, he found a tiny drop of dried ink in the margins beside a paragraph.
Knowing this could easily have been an accident, he hurried on through the last four pages. Not finding anything else, he skipped back to carefully read the paragraph.
Until 1850, the practice of discarding Squib children was not only legal in Great Britain, but encouraged culturally. When the rare day came where a pureblood child was discovered to have not inherited any magic, it was well within the rights of the parents to dispose of the child. Some had their memories forcibly removed and then were given to Muggle orphanages. More commonly, however, Squib children simply vanished or died of extenuating circumstances around the age of eleven. Only after a ferocious court battle between Margaret Prewett and the Ministry of Magic, did such actions against Squibs become outlawed.
Regulus looked into the fire that warmed him, eyes unfocused as he tried to wrap his mind around why that information was important. It was possible that the droplet of ink in the margins was a mistake made by another reader, but Ivy was known for being deliberate and meticulous; it didn't seem like something she would overlook.
Not to mention, something was on the tip of his tongue - some memory or forgotten bit of information he was having trouble bringing to mind.
He held the book up to the firelight, and in doing so, noticed that the marking was dark blue. Comparing the colour to the ink in the Table of Contents and around the chapter title, he realised that they all matched.
Regulus read the paragraph again, then set the book aside to comb through his knowledge of Ivy, keeping Squibs in mind.
Only when he heard footsteps on the Dormitory stairs did his mind spark.
Theya appeared at the bottom of the staircase, wringing her wrists. "Have you seen Ivy?"
"No," Regulus said distractedly. "How old was Ivy's sister when she died? Eleven, right?"
"Yeah," she looked taken aback. "Why?"
Astonished, he discerned that Ivy had been trying to tell him that Hazel was a Squib for two years. Not only that, she had been trying to tell him that her sister was disposed of. Considering the kind of parents she'd had, he highly doubted that Avdima and Rhaen would've had the decency to let Hazel live.
"Fuck," he said, dumbfounded. "Fuck!"
"What?" Theya raised her brows.
"Did you know that Hazel was a Squib?" Regulus got to his feet and walked to her with wide eyes, hardly able to believe his own words. "Did you know that's why she died? Or, well, why she was killed?"
Her hazel eyes went wide and her jaw dropped open a fraction. She made to speak and instead let out a disgraceful choking sound.
"I just found out," he shook his head slowly. "I cannot believe her sister was a-"
Theya suddenly lunged for him, clapping a hand over his mouth. He made to push her away, but she held firm, looking over her shoulder up the staircase, seemingly petrified. Narrowing his eyes, he stuck his tongue out and licked her hand, which she removed with a look of disgust.
"What's your problem?" Regulus asked.
Theya held up her index finger and silently peered up the stairs. After several moments, she grabbed him by the wrist, snatched the book up from where he'd left it, and steered him to the opposite end of the room.
"Do you have your wand on you?" She whispered once they were huddled in a corner.
"Yeah…"
"Cast a Muffliato."
Concerned due to the graveness in her voice, he did as she asked without question.
"Regulus," Theya said grimly, eyes darting between him and the Dormitory stairs. "You need to listen to what I'm about to say. You need to do exactly as I say. I'm not taking the piss when I say that it is life and death. Do you understand?"
"I-" He frowned worriedly. "Yes."
"Good," she thrust The Secrets of Darkness into his hands. "First, you need to Scourgify this, get rid of Ivy's hints. I told her leaving any sort of parchment trail was stupid, but she insisted."
"Wait, hold on," Regulus stuffed the book into his robes. "You knew about this? About Hazel?"
"Yes, but only for about a year. Anyway, like I was saying-"
"She told you before she told me?" He couldn't help feeling offended.
"No," Theya gave a humourless laugh. "I found out, similar to how you just did. But that's not important right now."
"I think it is."
"I'll tell you more another time," she said tensely. "Right now, I need you to swear that you won't mention Hazel or Squibs to Ivy while we're on the grounds. Even talking about it with a Muffliato is dangerous. And do not tell Severus."
"I get not wanting other purebloods to know," Regulus said slowly. "But why can't I talk to her about it under a Muffliato? That's what we're doing right now."
"Well, we shouldn't be," Theya said sternly. "Just wait to talk to her until Spring Holidays. This is Ivy's hardest secret - it's also now mine and yours. I can't say much more; this should all be coming from her, when it's safe. Now, I really do need you to swear."
Regulus mulled things over. He was frustrated beyond expression with her and Ivy's secrecy. And yet, the severeness with which Theya talked gave off a sense of finality that he could feel in his very bones. Whatever they were hiding in relation to Hazel was the explanation he'd been waiting for for years.
"Fine," he conceded. "I swear. I'll wait. But if I don't get a proper explanation this time-"
"You will," she promised. "If, for some reason, Ivy still won't tell you over Hols, I will. You have my word."
"Good," he said stiffly.
Theya relaxed a smidge, though she went back to watching the stairs. "Ariadne's door was open when I came down… I don't think she heard us. At least, I bloody well hope she didn't."
Regulus felt defiled at the mention of her name and had the urge to scrub his skin until it was raw. He'd hoped to be rid of her once he left Hogwarts, but Barty Crouch Jr. had confirmed she was going to begin attending Death Eater gatherings, no doubt thanks to Mulciber. On edge as it made him, he wasn't surprised that Ariadne was trying to claw her way back into a position of power.
"Ivy should be back by now," Theya mumbled under her breath, as though to herself. "I knew she'd get caught."
"Caught?" He tilted his head.
"Oh, right. She's slipping Slughorn Veritaserum."
"As one does," Regulus said dryly. "Again I ask, why?"
"For Hazel," Theya said distractedly.
"Ivy is currently drugging our Potions Professor… For her sister?"
"Yeah," she sighed. "When it comes to Ivy, the answer to every question is Hazel. And if it's not, it's you, me, or Severus."
"I'm not following."
"I know," she ran a hand through her hair.
"Well," Regulus rubbed his eyes and brought down the Muffliato. "I'm going to bed. You should too. Even if Ivy's been caught, she's the cleverest witch I've ever met, she'll figure a way out of it."
"Mmm," she murmured absently. "Oh, Regulus?"
"Yeah?"
"I hope you know," Theya said quietly. "I really do want to tell you everything. So does Ivy. Keeping things from you and Severus hurts us too."
He smiled sadly. "I know."
A hand was clenched tight around Ivy's upper arm as she stumbled up a set of stairs. While some part of her knew it wasn't her father's hand bruising her, all she could think about was Rhaen dragging her up the stairs at Selwyn Estate as her fearful cries echoed around the ballroom. She shouldn't have gone to the cellar.
"I cannot believe-" Someone was raging. "And a student, nonetheless! A Slytherin!"
The words broke through her mental fog, revealing that it was indeed not her father who had her in a vice grip. She was not being hauled up the stairs at Selwyn Estate, but instead up a spiral set that led to the Headmaster's Tower.
Slughorn, she grasped. Veritaserum.
Reality slammed into her like a train, but they had already reached the top of the stairs. Ivy remembered her wand, and while Slughorn pounded hard on the oaken double doors, she reached through the slit of her gown, withdrawing her wand and pointing it at him.
"Obliviate!" She cried.
At the same moment, the door swung open, revealing Headmaster Dumbledore.
Slughorn's grip on her relaxed and he collapsed to the ground with a loud slap.
Purposefully letting her wand slide out of her hand, it clattered to the stone.
Ivy gave a nervous laugh. "Please don't expel me."