This is a bit of a short chapter, but I hope you all enjoy it! I had a blast writing it, and the next one is even better (if I do say so myself). Unlike my other fanfictions, I'm going to start answering questions you guys leave in the comments... So send me your inquiries! All of the questions will be at the bottom of the story, so as not to entirely distress your reading. Please favorite, follow, and MOST IMPORTANTLY comment! Your guys' comments are my favorite part of it all (aside from the writing, of course)!
September 1977
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Blanche tried to keep an objective eye on Sirius' fully-formed countenance. At the return to Hogwarts for their seventh and final year, Blanche discovered the summer had permitted Sirius a new and final coat. He was almost as tall at Remus, who peaked several inches over six feet, and someplace in broadness between James, who was forever gangly, and Remus, who was as densely-packed as they come. A regular scruff came to his cheeks, which were slanted from cheekbone to chin in a masculine elegance. The thick rings of his dark hair tickled his neck and his brows arched minutely in their standard Black fashion. Beyond a shadow of a doubt, Sirius was a man.
The girls had flocked and squawked like chickens from an early year—Blanche estimated around third year the admirers had begun to ripen and pursue. Sirius had always been a handsome boy, but now he was completed in a statuesque beauty; consequently, his following was now at its strongest. He selected a couple to keep under his arm and on his lap from time to time, making and breaking hearts, but nothing was ever serious. Blanche's only problem with the girls was the time restrictions it placed on her friendship with Sirius. For instance, a prank they had planned via owl over the summer scheduled for the first day of Potions was 'saved for later' when Yvette Colander asked Sirius to sit next to her during class.
But Blanche had to look at it all objectively. Sirius was a very charming and handsome boy, and that was just about a universal truth. Another universal truth—friends grow apart. It happens, and Blanche swallowed down her memories and decided to spend more time with Lily.
However, that was a bit of a waste as Lily was now in a committed relationship with Potter. Whenever Lily and Blanche scheduled to get a Butterbeer or two in Hogsmeade, along came—without notification—James Potter, a boy who Lily had once passionately called an 'arrogant, bullying toe-rag.' Now they were draped across one another at all times, caught deep in the sticky web of young love.
Blanche sighed as she pushed all her emotions out through her mouth and walked alone to Arithmancy, which Sirius had dropped out of after a sixth-year shagging buddy had asked him to take Divination with her. Divination and Arithmancy were both electives, and their classes ran at the same time. So it was either Blanche or his sixth-year shagging buddy—Blanche corrected her thoughts, it was either friendship or sex. Sirius chose the latter. It was all understandable, Blanche insisted.
As Sirius was no longer there in constant need of distraction, Blanche sat at the desk closest to the teacher's desk. From there, the professor would actually be able to hear her when she answered questions. The desks were three seats long, and Blanche sat herself in the middle so she could keep her textbooks open around her for any need of reference. As she dipped her quill in ink and wrote the date at the top of her page, the textbooks to her right and left instantly came sliding inwards toward her and crumpled her parchment.
"Pardon me!" She shouted, looking to her sides for the culprits. To her left was Sirius, and to her right James. She sighed and crumpled her paper into a ball, pulling out a fresh one. "What are you two imbeciles doing here? This is Arithmancy."
"And I'm taking this elective…?" Sirius looked at her oddly, one eyebrow raised.
"What about Cosette Fauser and Divinity?" She spat.
"Meh… Over it," he shrugged.
"I switched in from Study of Ancient Runes. I can't stand Professor Plunkett anymore," James explained. "And Cosette Fauser is no longer in the picture. Padfoot found something new this summer in Falmouth," he filled her in.
"Congratulations to you, Sirius. Muggle?"
"Yes, madam," he chuckled and looked at Potter with sinful eyes, as though the two shared some esoteric understanding about muggle women that Blanche could never 'comprehend.'
"Your parents must be thrilled," she laughed quietly.
"As you're aware, they are no longer in the picture," Sirius replied. "You know that, remember when you denied me sanctuary last year?"
"You can complain all you'd like, but I did it for your own good. My household is as pureblood supremacist as they come," she rolled her eyes. The night after Sirius ran away from Number 12 Grimmauld Place, he'd phoned Blanche—a particularly unusual way of wizard communication—and asked her if he could spend some time at her house. It hurt when she denied him as he was essentially homeless for the night, but temporary joining the Lestrange household would be only for the worst. Sirius couldn't understand how bad it would be; she hadn't ever told him her father, Rabastan Lestrange, was a Deatheater, and she hadn't ever told him what had happened to Talbot, the muggleborn wizard.
Sirius' second call was to James, who had welcomed him with open arms into the Potter household in Falmouth.
"And thank Merlin I did, or else you never would have met the muggle!" She sarcastically cheered. She then looked to James with eyes that revealed only formality—there was no hint of legitimate interest in them. "And how was your summer with Lily, James?"
"I didn't see her as much as I'd have liked, but it was a riot when she came. Lily adored Mary, so that was all well and good—"
"Mary?" I asked.
"Sirius' muggle," James answered.
"Oh, right. They're pets now—I forgot," Blanche snapped.
James realized talking about Mary with Blanche was probably not the brightest of ideas. He knew Blanche never romantically considered Sirius, but he still trod carefully. He had made Blanche angry before and it was not a pretty sight. Whenever he did, he had to send in Sirius as messenger and mediator, and sometimes even that took weeks.
"How was your summer, Blanche? And sparks of romance?" James asked with wiggling eyebrows. "Or a shag, even?"
"Oh," Blanche sighed femininely. "I began this absolutely torrid love affair with a Highlander. But it was all quite discreet, you see—he had a wife back in Skye and seven children. He was an utter menace in bed. I felt guilty for it, but it just all felt so good and so right!" She squealed.
"What?" James gawked, but Sirius only laughed.
"She's kidding, Prongs," he shook his head. "Blanche hasn't even held a boy's hand before. In fourth year I tried to put my arm around her and she bit me."
Blanche shrugged, but washed away the minimal embarrassment that fluttered in her throat when Sirius exposed her puritan habits. "I don't find boys interesting."
"Girls?" Sirius and James both gaped simultaneously, leaning forward.
Blanche's face contorted. "Girls are even less interesting."
James groaned at the turnaround—clearly let down.
"Sorry Prongsy—better save that one for the spank bank," Sirius sighed.
"Have I ever told you that you're an overweening, vulgar swine?" She asked him with a raised eyebrow.
"I believe so," Sirius answered, after giving a feigned moment of thought.
The Professor of Arithmancy hobbled in after some time, crooked and crumbling as ever, and set down a stack of textbooks on his desk. Blanche looked at Sirius' empty desk and laughed internally, but the amusement soon washed away. In spite of this being the most difficult Arithmancy class Hogwarts offered, he'd still somehow ace his N.E.W.T.s in the class.
"Welcome back," the professor spoke in a wisp of a voice. Blanche saw James looked over her head to Sirius with a mortified expression.
"Missing Professor Plunkett already?" Blanche spoke at her regular volume. James instantly looked to the professor with frightened eyes.
"Don't worry, he can barely hear his own voice," Sirius promised.
"Now," the professor continued without notice. He walked to his desk and began reading what the enchanted chalk wrote. "The Properties of Numbers in Relation to and Numerical Value of Divination."
James and Sirius both sighed beside her.
October 1977
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
"So tell me, Miss Lestrange," Slughorn addressed her as she took an elegant sip of red wine. She felt Lily's hand pinch her from under the table. Blanche sent her a sly eye her way, and Lily smiled at her plate. "Which Queen Blanche of history is it you're named after?"
"Not a queen, actually. My mother named me after Blanche, Duchess of Lancaster, the first wife of John of Gaunt," she answered dutifully.
"Interesting," he nodded with the genuine curiosity he nurtured for all of his Slug Clubbers. "Why this Blanche in particular?"
"My grandmother used to read my mother tales of medieval kings when she was little in lieu of fairytales. The story of Katherine Swynford and John of Gaunt was her favorite, although she rather hated Katherine and adored Blanche, who died at twenty-three."
"I'm afraid I do not know much of this Blanche of Lancaster, but I do appreciate your mother's value of history. How does she do—Lavinia is her name, is it not? And your father?"
"They're doing well," Blanche stretched a smile on her face and nodded. Formalities and good behavior were always such a bore.
"Excellent," Slughorn nodded. He looked around the table with a glowing grin. The young wizards and witches surrounding him were his prized possessions, and although the dinners and gatherings were tedious, they did hold a place in Blanche's heart. "And speaking of those named for sovereigns, what about you Severus? Are you perhaps named for Septimius Severus?"
Severus' weighty black eyes rose across the table to meet Slughorn. These days he looked more willowy and ghastly than ever; his skin was as white as parchment, and his black locks hung in thick, straight curtains around his long face. "I was," Severus responded. He was not the most sociable of fellows, and he much preferred the company of books and cauldrons to that of classmates and professors. In Severus' curt reply, this much was obvious.
Blanche looked back to Lily to see her fork playing with a lone lettuce leaf on her plate. Since Severus' insult in fifth year, Lily had never been able to be her true self around him. It was true—she was eternally angry at him for being called that, but Blanche was sure it went further than that. In Severus' bones, Lily understood the way he saw the wizarding world: True-blood, half-blood, and mudblood. This was the worst offense of mankind to Lily—to be full of hate.
The dinner ended around twelve that night, and Lily walked back to the Gryffindor house in silence. She was rarely silent; sometimes quiet, but never silent. Blanche watched the contours of her face bloom in the light of the moon as it peaked through the stained glass windows. Like most of her classmates, adulthood had set in on her face. Though her childlike optimism remained, her face revealed that it had been splintered and cracked over the years.
"Do you truly believe he's set to become a Deatheater?" Blanche asked her. There was no point of avoiding the topic of Severus; even if Blanche talked about something else, she knew Lily's mind would stay placed on him.
"Yes. When I asked him in fifth year, he never denied it. Not to mention he's best friends with Avery and Mulciber, both of whom will inevitably become Deatheaters," she shook her head in disdain. "I don't think I'll ever understand it, thinking like that—like there are people who are 'dirty.' Not even muggles—wizards who are 'dirty.' How can someone think like that? Think that so many wizards and witches are 'filthy?' Like they have some control over to whom they are born, and like they should care! Family is family. I'm proud to be muggleborn. I'm proud of my parents," she spoke. Her rambling was a little straying—probably as a result of the four glasses of wine she'd had.
Blanche thought of her words 'family is family.' Should everyone forgive family of their sins for the sake of them being family? Was everything superficial within the bonds of blood? Could nothing cut and scar?
"Not everyone is proud of their parents, Lily," Blanche commented.
"I know what your parents are like, Blanche, but I believe nothing can conquer the sacredness of family," Lily argued adamantly. Blanche was not infuriated with this opinion, nor was she annoyed. There was no way Lily could ever grasp what it was like to see one's own parents as monsters; she had never experienced anything to this degree. She had seen it with Severus, but that wasn't close enough. In order to understand, Lily needed to see it in the blood.
For a transient moment of thought, Blanche came to see Lily's hypocrisy and naïveté. Lily believed blood meant nothing in the eyes of supremacy, but she thought blood relations were supreme. She believed Severus, who she once called her brother, could never be forgiven for the ways he saw the world, but she believed all families were rooted in forgiveness.
But this was Lily, whose world was full of great, vibrant colors and never a black nor a shade of grey. She believed shadows were dark because they missed the sun, and any sorrow could be swept away with a smile. It must have been a riveting world to live in, but Blanche couldn't live without the grey. Survival was written in grey.
In the Gryffindor common room, Lily and Blanche played chess until the sadness was worn from Lily's face. As usual, her sentiments came and went with the break of dawn and she started anew. The girls climbed up to bed and laughed until their bellies hurt. They woke their other roommates several times, but Lily's abundant and affectionate apologies settled them back into sleep. With their eyes barely open, Lily studied the shade of the duvet provided by the school that was folded over her.
"Why would they pick this shade of green? It's so dingy and grey," she frowned, holding a corner of the duvet to the candlelight.
"You know, in fifth year Sirius introduced me to his cousin Andromeda Tonks at the train station before we left for summer. He quite liked her—she wasn't like the rest of the Blacks… She was like Sirius. She was married to a muggleborn and pregnant at the time. She bought me chips whilst I waited for my mother to arrive, who was naturally late. Andromeda was very beautiful, and her hair was dyed grey. I knew it was dyed as she was far too young, and it wasn't a lovely and snowy shade of silver as some women wear their hair, nor was it a bluish and enigmatic dark grey. It was just a very average grey—like the color of smoke. I asked her why she dyed it that color, and she said she did because grey was her favorite color. I asked her why in Merlin's name would someone's favorite color be grey, as though it were preposterous. She told me it was because grey was the branch between two extremes, and the only true middle ground in the natural world," she recounted. Blanche looked to Lily to see her eyes closed, but she hummed in absentminded response with some semblance of wakefulness. More to herself than anyone, Blanche added: "She believed the wisest men had grey eyes."
Blanche looked up to the canopy above her bed. It wasn't dingy and grey, it was the color of ancient pine in the dead of February, surviving the long and cold winter of the north. It was beautiful. Absentmindedly, as Blanche's eyes fluttered shut and she slowly slept away into the night, she mumbled: "Sirius has grey eyes."
Early November 1977
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
"Have you gotten me a birthday present yet, young Blanche?" Sirius asked her as he stole a small plum from her plate, bringing it to his mouth. Blanche rolled her eyes—now that Sirius was a week away from his eighteenth birthday, he wouldn't stop referring to himself as her 'great elder' and to her as his 'young Blanche.'
"Right now I'm in the process of deciding whether you deserve a birthday present," she replied. That was untrue—she knew exactly what she was going to give him. In Potions she had brewed unparalleled cauldrons of Felix Felicis, Elixir to Induce Euphoria, Wit-Sharpening Potion, Ceridwen's Brew, and Tertia Oculus. As her reward, Professor Slughorn had permitted her vials of each. These were presented to her after class, so as not to caused conflict amongst less talented and doted on students. Blanche planned to put them all in a chest and present it to Sirius for his birthday.
"Well, I do," Sirius announced. "And I know what I want."
"And what's that?" She asked with a sigh. He didn't know what he was getting into; considering the market price of at least half of the potions Blanche had brewed, this was the most lavish birthday present she had gotten him yet.
"To go out," he said simply after clearing his throat.
"Where, to Hogsmeade? Didn't James tell you he was already throwing you a party there on your birthday?" She questioned, then bit the inside of her lip. "Unless, that was a surprise…"
"It wasn't—I already knew about that. I'm going to ask him to move it to another night," Sirius told her.
"What? Why? Don't you want to celebrate your actual birthday?" She asked, then paled instantly. "Oh no… Are your parents coming to visit for your birthday?!"
"Merlin's shite—I'd sooner ask for death than them on my birthday. That's not why I'm moving it. I already told you I want to go out with you for my birthday," he told her.
"You want to go…somewhere?" She questioned him. Rarely ever did Blanche feel absolutely befuddled, but she could admit to herself she was in this moment. Why was he so fidgety? Why so vague?
"Yes, with you."
"Well, I don't know about you but that sounds like our typical Sunday night… and many other nights of the week. Don't you want to do something special for your birthday? And what's this about what you want for your birthday. I know that you know I was just being snarky when I said I was deciding whether you deserved a present or not. I already have an idea," she nudged him in the stomach with a knowing grin. "And if I do say so myself—it's quite a brilliant idea."
"Okay, well scratch that."
She leaned away from him as her brows knit together. What the hell was he going on about? "Alright, I'm confused. I'm not usually lost, but you've managed to do it."
"For my birthday present, I want you to go on a date with me," he spoke confidently. But Blanche knew Sirius well enough that behind his straightened back and speedily tapping fingers, he was nervous. Sirius Black was nervous. She never thought she'd see the day.
"To… Hogsmeade?" She asked. Once again, Sirius had managed to utterly throw her off track. Blanche was only slow with words and stuck in her own discomfort once in a blue moon. But here she was, feeling a bit of pink at the apples of her cheeks and honey-slow in the mouth.
"I was thinking a bit bigger than that," he shrugged casually.
"What, London?" She asked and he shrugged again. "Why on Earth would you want to spend your birthday in London with just me? Am I even allowed to bring you a present?" She asked in incredulity.
"No, the date is your present to me," he said. She was getting very tired of his strange and short responses.
"That's a really shitty gift," she laughed. "Oh… Wait, I see. Are we meeting your parents for dinner? You want me to pose as your pretty, Pureblood, muggle-hating girlfriend for the evening? Why didn't you just say so?! Wouldn't be the first time."
"No, it's not that," he spoke in a flat voice. Blanche stared at him in irritation with her nostrils flaring for some time, then slammed her textbooks in a column and pushed her plate halfway across the table in anger. She leant over to Sirius and aligned her erect pointer finger with the end of his straight nose.
"Would you do me a favor and not speak like a monosyllabic dullard the next time you see me? If the next thing you say to me is less than two sentences, I swear to God I will not even attend your damned birthday party!" She threatened lowly with a clenched jaw and left the Great Hall in a cold storm.
It was evening by the time Blanche had arrived in the Gryffindor common room, and as with every evening, many of her housemates were lounging by the fire, studying, and chatting in a worn but pleasant haze. The days of November had been increasingly short and cold of late, and Blanche had been able to see her breath as she'd walked through the courtyard to the Gryffindor Tower. She'd forgotten her wool dresses in Sirius' lap when she'd stormed out of the room at the conclusion of her supper. Blanche walked over to the roaring fire in the common room hearth and held her hands within the rampant orange light cast by the flames.
She heard the portrait of the Fat Lad fly open and slam shut, and suspected who it was. She knew he would soon pull her to the side of the room and explain his odd behavior and shed some light on whatever he had just proposed. However, Blanche was not at all expecting that he'd announce it in front of everyone: "Blanche Lestrange!" He shouted and the room instantly quieted. Blanche drew her hands from the fire and turned around, looking at him with a scowl and eyes as inflamed as the logs on the grate in the hearth.
"What are you—"
"I asked this cruel and malevolent woman to go on a date with me in London as her gift to me for my birthday," he addressed the crowds, making them jury to our scramble. "And she became furious with me. Is this fair?" He raised his hands in outrage, looking to his peers. They were quiet at first, but then one familiar voice rang out.
"Hell no!" It was James. Once the Head Boy of Gryffindor gave his answer, the onlookers agreed loudly and passionately.
"Blanche, I don't need a book or whatever you planned to give me, and I don't want a chastising. All I want, as my present, is to take you out for dinner," he pressed in a hard voice. Then he addressed his peers once more—a group of Gryffindors who were quickly following his persuasive diction. "My comrades—this girl is my best friend. We spend all of our time together, but many of you may ask," he was now overripe with attention and Blanche rolled her eyes, "—'but Sirius, sir, how will this be any different from those times?' Well I'll tell you!" He held out his right hand and listed everything off one by one on his fingers. With each, he took a step toward Blanche. "There will be flowers, there will be music, there will be a dress shirt and a gown, and I will pay for your bloody dinner!"
The crowds were now chanting his name in worship—Blanche no longer felt at peace and ease in this warm common room, but stressed as though she were at an international Quidditch game and she was on the losing side.
"Go with him, Blanche! Agree to go!" Blanche heard Lily's playful voice shout over the crowds. Blanche followed her voice and located her on an armchair with her knees bouncing in chant beside James.
Sirius was only her best friend—how bad could it be?
"Fine," she agreed. The crowd broke out in victory.
QUESTIONS:
... To Lil Miss Sunshine14: In spite of this chapter, most of the subsequent chapters will not be like this. As the story begins I had to start with little bits and pieces put together, but you'll see that after this chapter (especially the next which is QUITE delectable) I'm doing much bigger chunks over shorter periods of time. The major time lapses will be between chapters. To your second question, you'll see in later chapters again that Blanche doesn't speak much about her friends at school at home and really hasn't ever (she learned this the hard way, and you'll see how). Blanche is not like Sirius in that she is not rebellious and forthright in the household, and even endures the Pureblood bile spewed out in her household. In her moral compass, however, she is identical to Sirius. The way she acts in the house, however, is not indicative of weakness. Although the Blacks and the Lestranges are similar, Sirius' parents are quite different from Blanche's. You will most definitely see this later (I believe in Chapter 4? I could be wrong. I have it all written but I'm too lazy to check.) Thank you for your questions!