Dear Sisterby The Pretty Reckless
Dear sister can you help me lie?
I've told the truth so many years
And no one seems to want to hear that
I'm not someone else inside
January 15th, 1980
Ivy stared at the grilles in front of her, wishing the lift at St. Mungo's would move along quicker. It, however, was taking its sweet time time bringing them to the third floor. They had come as quickly as possible upon receiving Narcissa's owl that morning, leaving them unkempt and dishevelled, barely having changed out of their nightclothes.
"You seem awfully calm," Regulus hissed under his breath, despite the lift being otherwise empty. His beautiful, aristocratic face was set in a scowl, and he was noticeably distressed.
"I have an idea," Ivy said evenly.
"And what, pray tell, is that?" He snapped, removing his scarf from around his neck to fold it with shaky fingers. "If Bellatrix puts two and two together, we are done for. Well and truly done for."
"You were careful at Selwyn Estate," she reminded him. "Besides, the Healers said her memory would probably be in rough shape. Frankly, I think you're looking at it all wrong."
"What do you mean?" Regulus wiped his hands on his trousers, as though his palms were terribly sweaty.
The lift jolted to a halt.
"There's no time to explain now," Ivy said. "Just follow my lead. I know how we can take advantage of the situation."
"You do the talking," he wound the scarf back around his neck. "I'm losing my shit."
"Will do." Ivy shouldered her way out of the lift as the golden grilles began to part.
Setting off at a hurried pace down the corridor, she ducked beneath clipboards that whizzed overhead and narrowly dodged Healers with no spacial awareness. Reaching the far end of the hallway, she rounded the corner, Regulus following closely behind. Locating the seventh door on the left, she quickened her stride. Appearing in front of the open door, she tugged off her winter hat to take in a truly terrible sight.
Bellatrix, awake.
The vile woman had come out of her coma just that morning. While racing to St. Mungo's was not necessarily the smartest thing they could've done upon receiving Narcissa's owl, waiting around to see whether Bellatrix knew anything damaging was decidedly the inferior idea.
Bellatrix was dressed in hospital clothing, as she had been for the last few months. She was rail thin and sitting up bed, seemingly cognizant. The bandage that had been wrapped around her head now lay at the end of the bed; Ivy guessed that casting aside the wrapping was the first thing she'd done upon waking. She looked gaunt and crazed, thanks to her unbrushed curls and dark eyes, which had sunken in over the months.
"I see you received my owl." Narcissa was the first to speak. Seated in an armchair beside the hospital bed, she released Bellatrix's thin hand to primp the fresh bouquet of black dahlias sitting on the bedside table.
Rodolphus nodded his greeting to the couple, lingering at the foot of the bed. Bellatrix's feet were below the covers, but he was lightly massaging them atop the blanket. Ivy thought that attentiveness was an altogether strange look on him.
"How're you feeling, Bella?" Regulus unwound the scarf from his neck again.
"Yes," Ivy sat on the edge of the bed. "How are you? We've been worried sick."
"As have the Healers." Bellatrix's voice was cracked and uneven from nearly three months of oblivion. She pulled her feet out of Rodolphus's grasp. "They were days away from sending me to the Janus Thickey Ward."
"Have there been any complications?" Ivy pressed. "Are you well?"
"Yes, yes I'm fine," Bellatrix said hastily.
The white-haired witch hesitated purposefully, before lowering her voice to something soft. "You scared us half to death. Regulus and I thought you might not wake. I don't know what we would've done if you'd… If you'd…"
Mustering up some tears, Ivy turned her face away, towards Regulus. Tilting her head, she created a curtain of long white hair between herself and Bellatrix, so that her view would be partially blocked. Bringing a finger up to wipe her eyes, she took a moment to compose herself before turning back, knowing full well that her eyes would be clear of tears, but still reddened.
By the surprised look on Bellatrix's face, she'd achieved the look of a wealthy socialite witch, who knew better than to handle her emotions with anything other than grace and class. It made her feel much like Narcissa.
"All I wanted to say," she continued. "Is that we're glad that you're alive."
Clearing her throat, she got to her feet and moved round the bed. Ignoring Rodolphus entirely, she made her way to Narcissa, who pulled her in for a quick hug. Her perfume smelled expensive, something like cedar and vetiver.
"Lovely to see you," Narcissa murmured.
Pulling away, Ivy looked back to Bellatrix.
Her dark stare was more intense than usual and trained on Ivy, but she was quick to look away. The witch diverted her attention to Regulus, whose scarf had found its way around his neck once more. Fortunately, he'd ceased fiddling with it.
"Tell me what happened that day," Bellatrix demanded.
"Where should I start?" Regulus asked.
Ivy suppressed a smile. The response was clever, subtle. It made her proud.
"Where were you when the ballroom went black?"
"I can't say for sure. I tried every spell I could think of to see again, but nothing worked. I was trying to at least find a wall when you went mad and started destroying the place."
"Watch your tongue," Bellatrix narrowed her eyes.
"Oh, Bella," Narcissa rolled her blue eyes. "He's just teasing."
"He knows better than to do that." Her tone was stern, but her mouth curved into a smirk.
"Anyhow," Regulus returned the smirk. "I thought you were going to blast my head off, so I Disapparated to Grimmauld Place."
"You've no idea how the Longbottoms escaped?" Bellatrix fixed him with the same intense stare she'd given Ivy. "You do work with Frank Longbottom, do you not?"
Rodolphus scoffed. "Tell me you're not actually suggesting what I think you are."
Bellatrix raised a brow at him. "You can't tell me it's not dodgy."
"Please," Rodolphus chuckled. "There's no need to question your cousin's loyalty simply because of who his coworker happens to be. Are you wary of me because I work alongside Gideon Prewett?"
Ivy couldn't help her surprise; the man who'd been openly trying to seduce her for the last five months, was coming to the defence of her most definitely guilty husband.
She exchanged an incredulous look with Regulus.
Bellatrix held her silence for a moment longer. "No, of course not."
"Then it's settled, isn't it?" Rodolphus squinted at her with electric blue eyes, as though challenging her.
His wife held his gaze, frowning at him as though she was debating whether to set him on fire or not. In the end, she simply turned her nose up at him and looked pointedly away.
"Good," Rodolphus said cheerfully. "How about a cuppa?"
"That won't be possible," said a cool voice. "Visiting hours are over."
Ivy turned her attention to the open doorway, where a Healer had appeared.
It was none other than Fabian Prewett, in all his red-headed, freckled, big-nosed glory. The Order member looked downright appalled to be standing in a room with not one, not two, but four Death Eaters. Ivy couldn't very well blame him.
Bellatrix curled her lip. "What happened to Healer Halloway?"
"Her shift is over," Prewett said dryly.
She clenched her fists in the bedsheets, voice raising to a high pitch. "Is my health really to be entrusted to the likes of you?"
"I can find someone else to attend you if you prefer," Prewett said flatly. "Do say yes."
"Yes!" Bellatrix snarled. "Find me someone who doesn't reek of blood traitor!"
"It'd be my pleasure," Prewett turned on a heel and disappeared.
"Scum of the bloody earth!" Bellatrix's voice cracked with the effort of shouting after him.
Wide-eyed, Ivy exchanged looks of bewilderment with the others. Apparently, she was not the only one to notice that Bellatrix's volatile behaviour had swelled in comparison to how she was prior to the coma. It was a well-known fact amongst their associates that she was unpredictable and vicious, but publicly, she was first and foremost a well-raised society lady. Society ladies did not scream at people in hospitals.
"Well then." Narcissa issued Ivy a worried glance and gathered her peacoat from where it had been neatly folded over the back of the armchair. "Looks like we need to be on our way. Why don't we walk out together?"
Murmuring her assent, she was turning towards the door when Bellatrix cleared her throat. "Ivy."
Stopping in her tracks, she arched a brow. "Yes?"
"Thank you for visiting." Her voice was strained and she made a face like she'd eaten sour sweets.
Ivy forced a smile and voiced her goodbye, before departing in favour of the corridor. Regulus was quick to follow and he mouthed: What was that? She shook her head to signal that they would talk later.
Nodding his agreement, Regulus led them towards the lifts.
Midway down the corridor, Ivy felt a hand catch her arm.
Narcissa had caught up with her and she wound their arms together as they walked.
"Did you find that at all strange?" Ivy asked quietly.
"Her thanking you for visiting or her yelling in public?"
"Both."
"Yes, it was quite strange. In reference to the latter…" Narcissa glanced over her shoulder at Rodolphus, who was trailing close behind. "The Healers warned us she may be different upon waking. Head injuries have been known to drastically affect people's personalities, namely making them belligerent. Or, in my sister's case, more belligerent."
Ivy cast her an apprehensive look.
"You've nothing to worry about," Narcissa assured her. "Her thanking you for visiting was her way of saying that you've won her over. After all, how many people do you think are willing to abandon everything to be byBellatrix Lestrange'sbedside? And don't worry about the face she made, I know her well enough to say that when she makes a face like she doesn't mean what she's saying, she does mean it. Its when she says something with a straight face that you need to be concerned."
January 23rd, 1980
Regulus glared at the playing cards on the worktable before him.
A bloodstained deck had been available for purchase at Borgin and Burke's for as long as he'd worked there and the only real interest they'd received that entire time had come mere minutes ago. A stout, greasy-haired bloke had insisted on comparing the deck to his own, and in the process, he'd managed to send the cards flying.
Regulus had received a tongue lashing from Borgin over it, then was banished to the backroom to sort them out. The process was infuriating, as he was wearing a pair of thick, unwashed gloves that made the work nearly impossible. Half the junk in the shop was cursed, and even if it wasn't, Borgin didn't appreciate scrawny little shopboys getting their fingerprints all over the merchandise.
Hearing approaching footsteps, Regulus looked up.
Frank Longbottom was grinning ear-to-ear and took a seat beside him at the worktable. "I know what it is."
"You know what what is?"
"You know that acquisition Borgin keeps going on about?"
"Yeah."
"I know what the magical artefact is," Longbottom said proudly.
"Congratulations," Regulus said flatly.
"Really, Black, you'll want to know what it is."
"Tell me, then."
"I will," Longbottom said nonchalantly. "If you tell me how Bellatrix Lestrange is faring."
Regulus looked up at him inquisitively.
"I heard she's out of St. Mungo's," he explained.
"She is."
"And…?"
"And what?" Regulus frowned, returning to his sorting of the two decks. "I can't imagine you're asking if she's doing well."
"I am, actually."
"Don't tell me you've grown to care for her," he smirked.
"Don't be ridiculous." Longbottom rolled his brown eyes. "I want to know if the witch who… If the witch who did what she did to my wife, is in agony."
"She's not."
"You don't sound very happy about that," he said sceptically.
"Perhaps you should have your ears checked." Regulus drawled, pausing to think on the matter. Bellatrix had become particularly manic since she'd awoken, sending Ivy or Regulus multiple owls a week just to express her hatred of the world. "She's doing well."
As much as her good health irked him, he imagined it would irk his coworker more, seeing as Bellatrix had tortured both he and his wife for hours on end. Fortunately for Longbottom, he didn't have to see the witch on a regular basis. Regulus was the one cursed to share blood with the horrible woman.
"I'm surprised that you want her to suffer," Regulus said dryly. "I thought you and your lot were supposed to be saints. You do, sincerely, have the worst holier-than-thou attitudes of anyone I've ever met."
"I'm only human," Longbottom shrugged.
Aggravated with his coworker's refusal to engage in petty bickering, he didn't reply. Instead, he tossed a bloody ace of spades -the first card he'd managed to get a grip on in minutes- into the slowly growing pile on the left.
"Why are you sorting those by hand?" Longbottom asked.
"Borgin keeps poking his head in to make sure I'm suffering through the task."
"Borgin needs to poke his head up his own arse."
Regulus snorted. "Did you just try for a joke, Longbottom?"
"Didn't know I have a sense of humour, eh?" He cracked a smile.
"Can't say I did." A joker slipped out of his grasp and back into the neverending main pile. "You know that this whole spineless niceties act is boring me to tears, don't you?"
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah." Regulus heaved a sigh and removed his gloves, deciding that Borgin could choke on the cards for all he cared. "My father dies and suddenly I'm not absolute scum of the earth, huh? What're you going to do when my mother finally drops dead? Propose?"
He was well aware that his coworker's change in heart had nothing to do with Orion's death and everything to do with the incident at Selwyn Estate. Seeing as he couldn't very well talk openly about the situation, he settled for a substitute.
Longbottom cast a look towards the front of the shop, before shifting in his chair. Turning his back to the unevenly standing worktable, he leaned back and rested his elbows on the shoddy wood. "Death is no small thing."
"It is when its my father. And good fucking riddance to the wanker."
Longbottom gave him a quick once-over, but didn't say anything.
"All out of clever little quips?" Regulus withdrew his blackthorn wand and used it to sort the cards.
"Not by far."
"But?" Regulus tucked his wand back up his sleeve.
Longbottom combed a hand through his short brown hair, blowing out a long breath. "You just sound like Sirius is all."
"I always forget that you two…" Regulus trailed off.
"Know each other."
"If that's what you want to call it."
"What would you call it?" Longbottom deadpanned.
Releasing a short laugh, he got to his feet.
Working the filthy brown gloves back onto his hands, he was quick to gather the two decks. Heading to the front of the shop, he wove through the glass displays until he found the one belonging to the bloodstained cards. Unlocking the glass with the key Borgin had given him, he returned the deck to its rightful place, thinking how they likely wouldn't be touched again for a long time.
Relocking the display, he headed for the counter, where Borgin was speaking with the stout customer from before. They were in a heated debate about the black-speckled mortar and pestle Borgin was trying to sell him.
Regulus placed the key and the customer's deck on the counter, opening his mouth to see if he could be of any use. Before he could speak, Borgin waved him off irritably. The man did prefer to do most of the customer-facing duties, citing Regulus as a terrible salesman who was only good for menial tasks.
This was fine with him.
Returning to the backroom, he removed the gloves once more. Stuffing them in the pockets of his apron, he resat himself beside Longbottom, who was right where he'd left him.
He cleared his throat. "How do you think he's doing in Azkaban?"
"I should be asking you," Longbottom replied slowly. "He's your brother."
"Sirius declared me dead to him in '76. On April 16th, to be exact. I haven't been his brother for nearly four years. Whether you were close with him or not, you would know better than I would."
Longbottom turned his head to look at him straight on. His face held a mixture of surprise and another emotion he couldn't put his finger on. It wasn't quite pitying, perhaps sympathetic or merely… sad. As though he wished he could do something about the situation.
Regulus did his best to ignore the look, though he couldn't help dwelling on the matter. There was some thing, some thought that had been in the back of his mind for years, that he couldn't quite articulate.
Then, it hit him like a ton of bricks; while Regulus was no longer Sirius's brother, Sirius was still his. He remained furious with his brother for all that he'd done, specifically for replacing him with that absolute arse James Potter. But for the first time, he realised that his anger had slowly been lessening over the years. Whether this was due to maturity or simply getting space, he didn't know. What he did know, was that he remained hurt beyond measure. That, had only grown over time.
"That being said," Regulus went on, since Longbottom hadn't replied. "What was he up to prior to Azkaban? I'm not asking about his, er, whereabouts, just his life."
Longbottom finally looked away. "What do you want to know?"
"I'm not sure," Regulus admitted. "Was he happy, did he have a girl, anything."
"Well, he and I weren't close, so I can't tell you much. I know he didn't have a job. He once said something about pissing away the Black family fortune."
This was hauntingly similar to something Regulus himself had said after graduation.
"He doesn't have a girl," Longbottom went on. "As far as I'm aware. I'd always gotten the sense that he wasn't very interested in them. He was the best man at James and Lily's wedding, I'm sure you know how close he was with them."
Regulus gave a grunt of acknowledgement.
"He was happy, I can tell you that. He had his issues, just like the rest of us, but he was happy with his life choices." Apparently realising what he'd said, he cringed and cast an apologetic look in Regulus's direction. "He had a flat in London… That's about all I could tell you."
"It's something," he nodded. "And something is enough. Thank you."
As silence overcame the workroom, Regulus wondered whether he'd just befriended an Order member. The conversation was certainly the friendliest they'd had. For a while, he'd even forgotten to include barbed comments and ill-mannered jabs.
He didn't know how to feel about it.
"What was the acquisition object?" Regulus inquired.
"A Merlin relic," Longbottom told him.
"Legitimate?"
"Legitimate."
"What kind of relic?"
"Dunno," Longbottom shrugged. "Borgin thinks he's making us jealous by withholding information, I have a feeling he's going to drag it out as long as possible."
"Sounds about right," Regulus drawled.
January 31st, 1980
Ivy tilted her head back to gaze up at the weeping willow. Thanks to an Atmospheric Charm, the tree's tendrils were green and blowing gently in the breeze, which would be otherwise freezing if she hadn't enchanted the back garden to stay warm and clear of snowfall. Glass baubles floated overhead, housing bluebell flames that lit up the night.
Gaze shifting to the shabby wooden swing nearby, she watched it sway gently, as though Hazel herself was seated on it, kicking her feet to go higher. If she tried hard enough, she could almost hear her sister's tinkling laughter and a childish squeal of excitement.
Ivy lounged back further into the cushioned chair, absently playing with the Moly flowers winding through the wicker of the armrest. She gave a contented sigh, admiring the beauty of her garden.
The whole property was warm, lively, woody. Truly nothing like Selwyn Estate, save for the mossy stones of the pathway that led to the garden door. It was fortunate that Ivy had already taken what she wanted from the Estate before the jar of Nundu breath was broken, considering the place was now a deadzone of sorts. A Magizoologist informed her that the home could be recovered once the toxic air dissipated, though the witch didn't think that would happen for at least a year.
Not that Ivy was very bothered; all she wanted was to see the Estate in ruins.
Hearing the garden door creak open, she turned her attention to the neatly trimmed hedge that the stone archway stood in the middle of. Ivy watched Theya kiss the pad of her index finger, press it to the stone, then shut the door behind herself. The golden-haired witch gave a great shake, causing heaps of snow to flurry off of her.
"Oh, hey." Theya removed her winter hat and shook out her hair, cheeks bright red from the cold. "I didn't know we were meeting out here."
"Figured we could use a change of scenery."
"I'm not complaining." Her gloves came off next, then her wool coat, which she tossed onto one of the wicker armchairs. "Everytime I come through here, I wonder why we don't spend more time in the garden."
"I spend plenty of time in it."
Theya murmured in response, flopping dramatically onto the flower-bound wicker sofa. "Those stairs are awful in the snow, my calves are killing me. Where's Regulus?"
"Running late," Ivy waved a manicured hand. "He owl'd to say that we should start without him."
"What's the holdup?"
"You know Severus is back in London; he and Regulus went out for drinks."
"Right, right."
The silence was awkward between them, as it had been since the day they'd gone to the cave. Neither one of them had again broached the subject of bringing Severus into the fold and Ivy was perfectly content leaving it that way. She was at the very end of her rope with that topic and was certain she would completely lose her mind if it came up again.
"Well," Ivy was the first to speak. "I suppose we should begin then. I know Regulus wanted to start having biweekly meetings, so we can have time set aside strictly to work on getting ahold of the Horcruxes."
"I've been thinking about suggesting something similar," Theya shifted onto her side. "So that's an easy yes. Actually, that reminds me - I was thinking, now that we've got Salazar Slytherin's Locket, we should work on whatever Horcrux is haunting Malfoy Manor."
"Agreed."
"I feel like we could make it simple and just have you pry around their place the next time you've invited for tea. Or, whatever it is you pureblood wives do when you get together."
"I'm not sure that's a good idea," Ivy said. "Trying to dodge Narcissa, Lucius, the house elves, and whoever else is around would be difficult."
"You forget," Theya smiled mischievously. "We have Potter's Invisibility Cloak."
"Sure, but look at it this way. Let's say I manage to avoid everyone, easily locate the door with the silver plaque, get inside, and the Horcrux is easily accessible - I'll still go into a trance when I see it and try smashing it into oblivion. Not only would that cause a ruckus, it would also take a lot of time."
"I see your point," she picked at her nails.
"Your plan is good," Ivy conceded. "We just need to make some adjustments. I think if we bide our time and wait for the Malfoy's to host an event, that would be the sweet spot."
"I imagine," Theya said slowly. "If the Malfoy's host an event, there'll be plenty of Death Eaters around. Isn't that far riskier?"
"You're not wrong, but everyone would be in one place. There's less chance of running into meandering people, and if all three of us attend, we can watch each others' backs."
She was quiet for a moment, evidently mulling over the idea, before speaking pensively. "Having triple the amount of eyes on the situation would be a colossal advantage… I think that's the way to go."
"Then its settled. We can ask Regulus what he thinks when he gets here, but I don't think he'll be difficult to persuade."
Theya nodded absently.
"Is there anything else we need to go over?" Ivy asked. "I believe that's all I had."
"I did want to suggest something," Theya rubbed her lips together. "I think that as couples, we should start distancing from each other publicly."
"What does that mean?"
"There's a good chance that one day, one of us will be found out, so I'm proposing a failsafe. For example, if Regulus was found out, I don't think its plausible that people would believe you aren't apart of things, since you're married. Or, if I was found out, I doubt anyone would accept that Severus isn't involved, since he and I are together."
"I see where you're going," Ivy nodded thoughtfully. "If you and Severus are no longer known to the general public as being close with Regulus and I, and vice versa, we'd have plausible deniability."
"Exactly. If someone in either couple is compromised, we can say that the compromised couple has been acting strange as of late and that's why we're no longer friends. Publicly, of course."
Ivy had to admit, she was impressed. "That's really clever, Theya."
"I know," she smiled impishly.
"We'll have to tell Regulus," Ivy mused aloud. "Not to be seen with Severus in public anymore. That could be tricky, doing it without him noticing. But Severus is out of the country with his apprenticeship half the time, so its probably doable. I doubt Regulus will have a problem with it."
"Actually," Theya sat up slowly on the wicker sofa. Placing her wet boots back onto the mossy stone, she squared her shoulders. "This time around, Severus will be privy to what we're doing."
"Theya, I swear to-"
"No," Theya spoke over her. "You're going to shut up for once and listen to what I have to say. Really listen."
"I have done nothing but." Ivy got to her feet, unable to keep still. "I cannot have this conversation one more time! I promise you, from the bottom of my heart, if we talk about this now, I am going to go mad. I'm going to lose it on you, Theya, I really am."
"I know," she said coolly. "Just let me say what I want to say, then you can go as mad as you'd like, alright?"
Ivy folded her arms, boiling. "Spit it out, then."
"Severus needs to know." Theya's voice shook, though it was clear she was trying to keep it steady. "Our last conversation about this solidified my decision, because you were right. You and Regulus risk your lives daily being Death Eaters, and the risk is even greater when you take into account that you're essentially spies. Severus is in more danger than even you two - and he does not know it."
Theya paused to look at Ivy, who was glaring at her unrelentingly.
Looking away, she continued. "Out of the four of us, Severus is the most likely to get us caught. Not only that, but he regrets getting his Mark. He wishes he could undo it all. When I tell him, I'm sure he will get on board. He could also have invaluable knowledge; its possible if not likely, that You-Know-Who has come to him about the Horcruxes, like he came to Regulus and the Malfoys. Not to mention, we could use his help. And… most importantly, I've tried to explain away my scars to no avail."
Theya smiled nervously, as though her attempt at a joke was at all funny.
Ivy was having none of it. "Are you done?"
"Yes," Theya replied quietly.
"I'm not going to waste my breath," Ivy told her severely. "Reminding you of why he can't be told. Clearly, it goes in one ear and out the other. So, all I'm going to say, is no. Unequivocally and unendingly no. It is not happening. And I am not discussing it with you again until he is ready. Period."
Theya was silent for several long moments, her face unreadable. Then, she got to her feet and clasped her fingers behind herself. Her features became hard and unyielding, which sent dread spiralling down Ivy's spine.
"I'm not asking your permission anymore, Ivy." Theya said calmly, firmly. "I'm only telling you this in hopes that you'll understand why I'm doing it. You might not believe in him, but I sure as hell do. So I am doing this, Ivy. I am telling him. Tonight. You cannot and will not stop me. Period."
Ivy immediately turned on a heel.
Marching to the dark-wooded house, she passed between the stone columns that held up the balcony. Footsteps followed her, and Theya called her name, but she ignored it. Whipping open the double glass doors, she had just entered the sitting room when her arm was caught.
"Where are you going?" Theya demanded.
Ivy roughly yanked her arm out of her grasp. "Get away from me, Theya."
"Not until you tell me what you're going to do," Theya protested.
"I'm not going to do anything, apparently," Ivy hissed. "I need you to leave, right now."
"You're kicking me out?"
The hurt in her voice was cutting, but she couldn't deal with it now. Not when fury was pumping through her veins, red, hot, and ready to strike. "I cannot be in the same room as you. Either leave, or you are going to see something very unpleasant."
"You can't be seri-"
"He is power hungry, Theya!" Ivy burst out, her voice echoing around the high-ceilings. "And those are not my words, those are his. He told me, point-blank, I like the power I have. Why would I give it up just to be slaughtered in the street on the Dark Lord's whim? He is not ready and to tell you the truth, he may never be. Not to mention, its my bloody secret and-"
She stopped upon seeing movement behind Theya.
Regulus had appeared between the open glass doors that led to the garden. Temporarily taken out of the heated moment, she noticed the apprehensive look on his face. Covered from head-to-toe in melting snow, he stared at them, frozen where he stood.
Theya looked briefly over her shoulder at Regulus, before turning to fix Ivy with a glower. "It is not your secret! It's mine too - and Regulus's! You're the one who involved us!"
Consumed again with her anger, she yelled back. "You wanted to be involved!"
"Maybe I shouldn't have!"
"What are you saying?"
Theya threw up her hands, voice rising with every word. "If I never get a say, why bother?"
Clenching and unclenching her fists, Ivy could feel the rotten fervour in her chest growing by the second. Stepping away, she went to stand in front of the carved fireplace with her back to Theya. She dug her nails into her palms as hard as she could, as though it could calm the festering sensation, which it didn't. When she opened her hands again, they were wet with blood.
"We're not your minions!" Theya shouted. "We're as much apart of this as you. But you don't want our input, you don't want allies - you just want people to boss around!"
Ivy groaned exhaustedly. "Do not get me started on what people want in this situation."
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Theya sounded as though she was speaking through gritted teeth.
"You know what the fuck it means," she glowered at the fireplace.
"You think I'm telling him because I'm selfish?" When Ivy let out an unkind, snide laugh, Theya snarled from the other side of the sitting room. "I want to tell him because it's beneficial to us! Keeping it from him is unnecessarily difficult! Not to mention, he needs to fucking know!"
Ivy whirled round and stalked towards her, radiating with fury. She ignored Regulus as he skirted around the room, clearly knowing better than to get involved. "That's a damn lie and you know it! If not telling him makes things tricky for us, so be it. Also, if you were really trying to be helpful, you would listen to me when I tell you that he's not ready. You do not have our best interests at heart with this, Theya, you just want to tell him because you love him. Do you think I didn't want to tell you or Regulus every second of every day? I know precisely how excruciating it is. The difference is that you're giving into it!"
"Is that really what you think?" Theya held her ground, face contorted with rage.
"Yes," she replied nastily. "And you know what else? I think you've had an easy, easy fucking life. I think that keeping a secret from him is hard," she said mockingly. "And you want easy. He is not bloody ready!"
"Yes, he fucking is!" Theya countered, stepping closer to get in her face. "And I am telling him!"
"Go on, then!" Ivy screamed, trembling with outrage. "Tell him. But when you realise that he can't handle it, just remember that the repercussions are on you! You did it!"
"He is not to be involved." A new voice broke through the room.
Ivy, Theya, and Regulus, all looked towards the black, floor-length mirror in the corner.
There in the glass, was Could. Clothed in white robes, her gently curled white hair fell down her back, not a strand out of place. Her silver eyes were piercing and her expression relayed that she was very displeased, making Ivy shudder.
"He is not to be involved," Could repeated sternly.
Theya stomped over to the mirror. "And why not?"
"It would change everything," the reflection said.
"I'm going to need a bit more than that," Theya replied patronisingly.
"You are not owed that information," Could narrowed her silver eyes menacingly.
"You know what?" Theya stuck her hands into her golden hair and pulled. "Fuck you." She then spun on a heel and stormed through the glass doors into the garden. From a distance, Ivy watched her snatch her coat up from the wicker armchair and disappear from sight.
Regulus, who had been clinging to the sides of the room, was quick to chase after her. "Theya! Come on! Wait!"
Ivy, however, approached the black mirror.
Changing Theya's mind was a lost cause. There was no coming back from this, unless she wanted to physically restrain her closest friend, which was a line she was not about to cross. Even if Theya was crossing a line herself.
Standing before Could, Ivy asked shakily: "What are the consequences?"
Could merely shook her head, then vanished.