Chapter Twenty Three


Sirius Black was being insufferable, Cedrella thought grimly. She thought Dorea was about ready to lose her mind, or at least her temper, with his hovering and helping and overall need to be in her personal space and assuring himself that she was alright this late in her pregnancy and in the mix of an unusual amount of company during the annual Christmas bash at Black Manor. Charlus had attempted to head Sirius off for the first hour but had gotten nowhere, finally retreating with some of the other men and leaving his poor wife to be accosted by her Head of House, the big chicken. Cedrella was trying to be a buffer, but it wasn't working. She usually had some measure of effectiveness when it came to controlling the big lug that was her Uncle, but not today, and not in regard to Dorea Potter.

"Are you okay?" he asked Dorea for the hundredth time. "Do you need anything? Water, tea? A chair? A snack? Tea and a snack? Tea, a snack, and a chair?"

Dorea looked at her helplessly. "I'm quite fine, Uncle Sirius," she said softly.

Cedrella had to give the pregnant Witch credit where credit was due. She had the patience of a saint, although if what Aunt Hermione said was anything to go on, she'd need it as her son grew up.

"Ow!" Uncle Sirius yelped, hand grabbing at his bum and turning around to see an angry looking Minerva McGonagall storming toward them. There was no doubt in any of their minds who had cast the stinging hex at him. "What was that for?"

"Hovering," she said succinctly. "If you'd have hovered over me this much when I was pregnant…"

Cedrella snorted in amusement at the comparison. He'd hovered, technically. He'd been as close as close could be!

"... I'd have killed you," the Scottish woman finished. "Go find somewhere else to be, Sirius. Now."

"But - " he began to object, glancing worriedly at Dorea.

"I said now," Minerva firmly repeated. "Don't make me ask you a third time, Sirius Orion Black."

He gulped. "Yes ma'am."

With that, he sulked away, Cedrella letting out a sigh of relief. "I have never in my life been so happy to see you, Minerva. I was about to start a mutiny. Nobody can bring Uncle Sirius to heel quite like you can. Not even Aunt Hermione."

"True," Dorea agreed, looking amused. "Thanks for the rescue. What is the deal between the two of you, anyway? It's so odd that he'll defer to you so easily, when he'll not even do so to his own wife. Aunt Hermione tried to get him to back off several times before you got here, and while he'd go away for a minute, the second she was distracted he'd be back."

"Oh he wouldn't dare try that once I've told him to leave you be," Minerva said, looking wistful. "As to why, I think I remind him of his mother."

It took every ounce of Cedrella's self control not to laugh at the half truth in that statement. Reminded him, her arse. She was his bloody mother, and no matter her age versus his own, the truth remained and he couldn't help but defer to her as a son would. That he'd grown up with her as someone in a position of authority over him didn't hurt matters any.

"In a good way, I hope?" Dorea questioned.

"So he says," Minerva mused, "although I'm not sure how I feel being compared to Ursula Flint. I've heard others speak very poorly of her."

Dorea looked thoughtful. "She was vicious, and set in her ways, very much invested in Pureblood supremacy. That said, I suppose you could also call her willful and passionate, convicted and forthright. You might say that she was a woman skilled at diplomacy as she navigated the Pureblood political circles, and as she personally saw to the pre-Hogwarts education of all five of her children, you might also say she was an educator. Yes, I would say you had a great deal in common with her on a fundamental level, even if when it came to the general politics you differed somewhat."

Cedrella noticed out of the corner of her eye that Uncle Sirius had circled back around toward them. He tried playing it off as getting food from one of the tables. "Anything I can fetch you ladies while I'm standing here?" he asked, feigning innocence.

Minerva rolled her eyes, and Transfigured the glass of water in her hand into a small tennis ball after drinking the last of its contents. She tossed the ball into the crowd. "Fetch that!" she said, glaring.

Dorea laughed first, and Cedrella wasn't far behind her. They both knew he was a dog Animagus, same as Minerva. Uncle Sirius let out an annoyed huff, and then moved close to Minerva, lowly whispering in her ear, just loud enough that Cedrella could overhear, although she was certain that over her laughter, Dorea did not. "Well played, Mum," he said.

Then, he was gone, the three women left blissfully alone and in peace. For good measure, Uncle Sirius did transform into his Animagus form and trot into the crowd in no doubt after the ball, earning more laughter from Dorea and Cedrella, and this time, begrudgingly from Minerva. Once they finally got hold of themselves, Dorea put her hand on Minerva's arm. "That settles it, my dear. Had I not already been sure of the thing this would likely have tipped the scales. I can think of nobody better to be Godmother for my child than a woman who has the skill and tenacity to keep Sirius Black in line."

Minerva's head whipped around to stare at Dorea so fast Cedrella thought it a wonder she didn't cause wind shear. "Come again?"

Dorea just smirked, and took Minerva's hand and placed it on her growing stomach. "He'll likely be a Gryffindor, in any case. Odds are that boy of yours will be as well. They'll be able to look out for one another, I think."

"So it's a boy then," Cedrella asked, as if she didn't already know. "For certain?"

Dorea looked briefly annoyed. "Yes. I was going to wait and be surprised, but Charlus got impatient. As such, we found out at our last appointment with the Healers. He told me it could count as his Christmas gift if we found out, and honestly I'm so stressed with the baby coming that if I didn't have to think of what to buy him on top of the fifty things I have to buy for this baby, I thought it might be worth it."

Minerva seemed to be less concerned with the gender of the Potter heir and more concerned over her role in his life. "Dorea, are you quite certain?"

"Oh, yes," she said with a big smile. "You can't imagine how difficult it was to pick a Godparent for him, you know. Charlus and I had so many requirements, Minerva, and it just so happened that you fit the bill very well. A conversation with Cedrella cleared up any questions I had."

Cedrella opted to pretend not to notice Minerva glaring at her for the next ten minutes before Dorea was ushered away by Charlus, who insisted it was time for the pair of them to call it an evening. By then, Minerva's gaze had ceased to be the heat of the sun and reduced to a low boil, although she still winced a little as the hot-tempered Witch grabbed her forearm and roughly escorted her out to the side veranda. "What were you thinking Cedrella?" Minerva asked.

"You could tell her no," she pointed out, not bothering to act like she was unaware what they were talking about.

"Sure," the Scottish woman said sarcastically. "That'll go over swell. Sorry Dorea, I'm uncomfortable with being Godmother to your child because I'm part of a covert team monitoring the future, and I'm pretty sure your son is going to die before he turns twenty-two! That conversation can't happen and you know it, Cedrella! Any other reason I might come up with to deny her would be flimsy at best and she'd rip through it like a hippogriff through parchment!"

The redhead smiled softly. "That's just it, Minerva. It's almost more important that one of us is James Potter's Godparent. If he's meant to die, which I hope we do find a way around, then we are the only ones in the world who can help that boy live life to the absolute fullest in the twenty one years he'll have. We're the only ones who will be able to help him walk to his death with his head held high, no regrets, and no doubts that he did what he wanted to do and said what he needed to say. We can give that to him. Other than one of us, who could do that for the boy?"

Minerva sat down on a bench. "You know full well that a Godparent is bound on a magical level to their Godchild. You are asking for me to knowingly bind myself to someone who will likely, in due course, be taken from me in a violent manner, abruptly and suddenly, and to know that I must stand back and let it happen. Do you comprehend what a shite thing that is to ask of a person?"

"It won't be as bad as losing a spouse," Cedrella said softly, knowing Minerva well enough to know she was thinking of Melok and how he was in the direct aftermath of losing Genia.

"No," she agreed, but not appearing to be helped by this knowledge. "It'll be like losing a child."

Cedrella was startled at the fierce look on Minerva's face when the younger woman turned and looked at her a moment later. "What are you thinking?" she asked.

"Hermione has said she isn't certain if Charlus and Dorea are already gone by the time James and Lily die in eighty one," Minerva replied. "If I do this, Cedrella… if I do this, then at the very least, Dorea lives. Dorea lives, and I don't go through the loss of James alone, because nobody will understand it the way she will, and more importantly, Harry will grow up knowing his grandmother. Dorea lives. I want your word, Cedrella."

For the longest time, Cedrella Weasley had been waiting to see the formidable Witch that Aunt Hermione had always told her about, who was firm and convicted and absolutely would not take no for an answer. For the first time, right now, Cedrella saw her. She took Minerva's hand and nodded. "You have my word," she said. "Dorea lives."


"So," Aberforth said awkwardly. "Constance, this is Svetlana. Svetlana, this is Constance."

The two women were clearly sizing one another up, neither saying a single word as they just stared at each other, which was making him very nervous. His fingers twitched near his wand holster, remembering Hermione's warning that it was a flip of a coin whether two people who shared a Kinship sibling would get on or not, and so he really didn't know what to expect of his two Kinship sisters. Speaking of Hermione, where was she?

"Ravenclaw, aren't you?" Svetlana finally said, looking at Constance with a complete lack of emotion. Her Occlumency shields were up, as were Constance's. He couldn't get a read on either of them right now.

"Indeed," Constance replied. "And you, my dear, were in Slytherin like our brother. I suppose I'll have to rely on you to translate, going forward, when he's being a completely stubborn prat and is reduced to that monosyllabic form of communication he's prone to when he's upset."

Finally, the ice began to melt, and Svetlana grinned. "He does do that, doesn't he? I'm not sure that's really a Slytherin trait so much as a male trait. Perhaps it's a male Slytherin trait. My brother Rasputin is much the same. It's so annoying. In any case, yes, I can translate, or at the least hex him until he squeals."

"Hey!" Aberforth said, objecting strongly to the notion, and not doubting for a moment she would hex him until he talked. She had done it before, in fact. "Can we not?"

"If you'd just develop better people skills, Aberforth," Constance teased, "it wouldn't be necessary. "That said, an ally is an ally, and I always did want a sister."

He crossed his arms. "You've got Hermione!"

Speaking of the devil, she chose that moment to walk in. "Sure she does," the Mage said. "Constance may share Kinship with me, but that doesn't mean she can't view Svetlana in a similar manner. People do have more than one brother or sister, you know."

"You have a Kinship bond with Hermione?" Svetlana asked Constance, looking surprised.

Aberforth rolled his eyes. "Welcome to the convoluted family tree, Lana. On the plus side, Constance is very much the elder sister between the two, so if you need to talk Hermione into something, it's wise to bring Constance as backup."

The young Arithmancy expert grinned. "Noted."

"I've a Kinship brother as well," Hermione said softly. "However he's quite literally a newborn baby. I'd felt a connection with his mother, but it was something of a surprise when I went to congratulate her on the birth of her son and realized that I felt an entirely different connection with her baby. I'm unsure how to proceed on that front."

A lie and a truth, Aberforth mused. She hadn't been surprised to sense the connection with Severus Snape in the least. She'd known all along he was her brother through Kinship. The truth was in the fact that she had no real clue how to proceed with informing Eileen about the connection, and how to do so in a manner which might aid Eileen and Severus to get away from Severus' drunken and abusive father.

"Is the boy Muggleborn?" Constance asked.

"Half blood," Hermione replied. "His Mum is a Witch. His father is a Muggle. In any case it's not as though I can seal the bond between us, so for the time being it's just an issue of a desire to be in his life, which considering she's my Nanny won't be an issue. She's already an active part of my life, and as she'll bring her son with her when she watches my boys, I'll have plenty of opportunities to see Severus. Now, shall we get to the sealing for you three?"

Aberforth shook his head ruefully. Hermione was gifted in many ways, but he thought that one of her greatest gifts was an ability to end a conversation firmly without being outright rude about it, however leaving no room for argument simply by her tone. He'd asked her about it once and she'd admitted that it was a skill she'd picked up from Alpha Minerva, who'd used the technique in her teaching and later in the course of personal conversation when it had detoured to territory she was unwilling to continue discussing. He thought it was barmy to consider that in this reality, the Minerva here was likely to pick up the mannerism from Hermione and implement it, coming full circle considering that it was a mannerism Hermione had picked up from her older counterpart. He wondered from whom Alpha Minerva had picked up the mannerism from in the first place, or if it was something she'd developed naturally.

Following Hermione's direction, Aberforth sat between his two sisters, Constance on his left and Svetlana on his right. The Mage began by pulling out a dagger and cutting a small slice into his left palm and Constance's right, nodding for them to hold their hands together, mixing the blood. Then, she gripped their hands between both of hers, holding them together tightly. "Genus et magus, sors cum consilium. Haec duo in aeternum ligarem," she uttered.

He gasped at the sudden sensation, feeling Constance's magic to a level he never had before. He'd always been able to feel her above what he'd been able to feel others, but this was deeper. This was more. "Merlin," he breathed.

"You're telling me," Constance agreed, looking at him. Her face was wet with tears, clearly overwhelmed. "Gods, Aberforth, why did you never tell me?"

He knew at once what she meant. She was talking about how he felt about her, or rather how much he felt for her. Losing Ariana had crushed him, and finding Constance had meant that he had a sister again and he'd vowed early in his relationship with her to never take her for granted, and he never had. He offered a grin and just shrugged. "I didn't want to make it weird."

She just squeezed his hand tighter. "That tended to go without saying, you prat."

Hermione rolled her eyes at them, and took his other hand, repeating the process of slicing his palm open and doing the same with Sevetlana's, holding their palms together and then echoing the spell. "Genus et magus, sors cum consilium. Haec duo in aeternum ligarem," Hermione said firmly.

Svetlana almost choked by the force of it, although this time he was more prepared. Still, he felt tears of his own beginning to fall as he turned to look at the young Slytherin who'd become his little sister just as Constance had become his elder sister. "I know," he said, trying to assure her. "It's alright, Lana."

"Abe," the young woman whispered. "I love you."

"And I you," he replied. His head turned back to Constance. "Same to you, Constance. I love you both. I know I'm terrible at saying such things, but you ought to know…"

Both his sisters used their free hands to punch his shoulders. Hermione laughed. "Well, that's done then. I'll leave you three to get better acquainted and adjusted to the more concrete link. From what Melok says, especially early on you can expect shared dreams and an almost telepathic link to one another. Brush up on your Occlumency if you have any desire for privacy between yourselves and Aberforth, ladies. I imagine there are things you each don't want your brother to know about your personal lives."

Aberforth bristled. "Excuse me. There are things about my personal life I don't want my sisters to know about too, thanks."

Constance scoffed. "That would involve you having a personal life, Aberforth."

"And that match to the Lady Dagworth," Svetlana teased.

As soon as Hermione finished healing both of his palms and had moved on to healing Constance and Svetlana, he crossed his arms over his chest. Sisters, he huffed. As much of an annoyance as they inevitably were, he wouldn't trade them for the world.


"Fudge," Cissa said, staring at her eyes. "That's too easy, Bella. Try something harder."

Bella crossed her arms. "You're a natural Legilimens, Cissa. If I think of something I don't want you to see, you're going to see it anyhow, so that's not really fair."

"The point is that you're supposed to be trying to hide things you don't want me to know about, dummy," her youngest sister pouted. "Come on. Andy is pants at this. You're at least a challenge."

Bella begrudgingly admitted her sister was right. Andromeda was pants at Occlumency, despite her best efforts thus far. "Okay, fine you big baby," she grumbled, rocking forward on the carpet. Cissa wasn't even five yet, but she acted so much older. Mother called her a little lady which was a far cry from what Bella was. Even at nearly nine, Bella was clumsy and despite her parents' best efforts, good manners couldn't be beaten into her. Andromeda seemed to be somewhere in the middle, appropriate to her order of being born. She'd turned six a few months ago and while she liked to run about with Bella on the family property and get into all sorts of trouble, she could be counted on to mind her manners when she needed to.

Still, there wasn't anything Bella wouldn't do for either of her sisters. She hardly remembered a time before Aunt Hermione was around - she'd only been three when she and Uncle Sirius had married, and only a baby when Uncle Sirius and Aunt Hesper had disappeared, and while she knew from what the grownups said that things for the Blacks had changed a great deal since Aunt Hermione had joined the family, she also knew that there were certain things that had stayed the same, at least behind closed doors. For example, while her own parents were cordial and accepting of Aunt Hermione being Muggleborn at family get togethers, and Mother and Father even said that they liked her quite a bit, they also said that were Uncle Sirius their son, they'd never have allowed him to marry a Muggleborn, and that they'd never allow one of their daughters to marry someone who was less than Pureblood.

Bella thought that was stupid and was prone to say so. That tended to get her punished more than a little. It didn't take Bella too long to figure out that her Father only ever hit her in places where the bruises were easy to hide with clothing. Mother warned Bella that telling anyone about the beatings would only make things worse, and bemoaned the fact that none of her daughters had inherited her Metamorphmagus abilities. It was a trait of the Rosier line, not unlike Parseltongues were common among the Gaunts, and while Druella Rosier Black had it, none of her daughters did. Bella's mother didn't use her gift often though, outside of for basic cosmetic applications. She said that Cygnus Black found it unsettling.

Bella figured out when she was about seven that Mother used the skill to hide her own bruises. That had been about the time she figured out why her mother did nothing to save her from her father, and why she was warned against getting help elsewhere. Bella figured that Mother had tried that, and paid the price. For as much of a fighter as she was, Bella knew that Andromeda and Narcissa would be helpless without her there to protect them, so she did the best she could to keep her head down, to be her father's punching bag in their stead when she could, and to her greatest annoyance, to help her sisters practice Occlumency so that their father couldn't delve into her mind freely as they grew and had things she needed to keep hidden from him. Merlin forbid either of them fancy a boy who was less than Pureblood.

Taking a deep breath, Bella focused on a new memory, then nodded for Cissa to begin her examination. It was from just a few weeks ago at the Christmas party at Black Manor. She'd been spying instead of going off to bed like she'd been supposed to, and well…

Cissa drew back. "Kissing?" she asked, looking annoyed. "You're showing me kissing? Honestly Bella! I know the lady was Helen Magnus. She's Aunt Hermione's friend. Who was the man?"

Bella shrugged. "I've never actually met him, but I've heard Aberforth Dumbledore call him James and I've heard Uncle Sirius call him Watson so I'm betting his name is James Watson. Watson isn't a Wizarding name that I know of though, so I'm betting he's a Muggleborn."

Her little sister looked thoughtful. "That's assuming that he wasn't a Muggle outright. Doctor Magnus is a Squib, isn't she? If he was with her, then maybe they know each other in the Muggle world, and they're seeing one another, or are even betrothed. Black Manor doesn't have Muggle repelling spells on it."

"I doubt they're betrothed, Cissa," the older of the sisters countered. "They were acting like they were sneaking around, all hidden in that corner. Besides, Helen doesn't wear a ring."

"Good point about the ring," Cissa conceded.

Just then, Andromeda padded into the room, looking curiously at the pair of them sitting in the middle of the carpet. "Occlumency?" she accurately guessed.

"Quite," Cissa confirmed. "However we've detoured to gossip at the moment."

Andy rolled her eyes. "Just say yup like a normal four year old, Cissa. Don't act like you've swallowed an etiquette book."

"There's nothing wrong with speaking properly," the youngest of the sisters said fiercely.

Bella looked at Andy and grinned. Andy grinned right back. "Dog pile!" the eldest of the three screeched, and all of the sudden poor Cissa was at the bottom of a heap, her two sisters tickling her with no mercy, her shrill screams of half laughter, half fury, echoing through the room and out the door, bringing their mother running just a few minutes later.

"What on earth are you three doing?" Druella demanded. "You are ladies, not hooligans!"

"They started it!" Cissa said firmly, quickly righting herself and smoothing the wrinkles out of her dress.

"Tattletale," Andy groused.

Bella flinched as she heard their father's heavy footsteps coming down the hall. "It was me," she said firmly, standing upright. "It was all my doing. Andromeda only followed my lead, and Narcissa was simply a victim of our play. If there are consequences, it should be on me."

"I should say so," Cygnus Black said, standing in the doorway, frowning at his daughters. "Bellatrix, you are nearly old enough to be going off to Hogwarts. In a few more years, we'll be discussing betrothals for you. You must begin conducting yourself as a proper lady, and not as an errant child. Come. We'll continue this discussion in my office."

She hung her head, not looking at her sisters as she followed her father out of the room. Her mother placed a supportive hand briefly on her shoulder as she passed by, in her way expressing thanks for protecting Andromeda and Narcissa from punishment. Neither Bella nor Druella had any delusions what 'continue this discussion' meant. In a few minutes, she'd be taking a beating. Tonight, a House Elf would bring her pain potions, sent by her mother, along with a Dreamless Sleep. That would keep the nightmares at bay for one night, at least. After that, she'd be on her own to deal with the pain and the things that would haunt her dreams.

It wasn't the beatings that caused her nightmares. It was the things Father told her during them. It was the future he had painted for her with an arranged marriage to a man who was not unlike him, who'd bend her to his will and destroy everything she liked about herself until she was nothing but a submissive housewife, fit for nothing but bearing heirs and hosting parties. It was a nightmare of a future, Bella thought, and the closer she got to Aunt Hermione and the more she realized that there was another option out there, the more terrifying the future her father had planned for her became.


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