Children of the Gods

by inwardtransience

When the message came, there was little left of Cassiopeia Black in her — soon she would move on, shed her face and her name for another. But, at the last possible moment, she found a reason to carry on, the smouldering embers of her identity sparking to new life. Unfortunately, adopting the Boy Who Lived came with complications. (metamorphs, fairies, AU and very weird)

57. Rebirth of the House of Black — VII

After a long day shut up in the workshop at the guildhouse, Síomha decided to walk home.

Her efforts to build up some money ahead of the wedding to cover certain expenses was proceeding about as well as she could expect, but she was starting to worry she was going to wind up short. She'd been at it for some months now — half-heartedly more or less from the moment her Mastery had been acknowledged, more seriously after Cassie had confirmed they could work the legal side of things out. Between the normal freelance work she'd managed to land and the unexpected windfall of her table tennis sets, she'd managed to gather up literally more gold than she'd ever had in her life put together. That wasn't saying much, to be fair, but it felt like a lot to her. The table tennis sets had tapered off pretty quickly after the initial glut of sales — she still got an order every once in a while, but not very many — and the usual trickle of jobs had actually increased somewhat, probably thanks to getting her name out there more. And she got to keep more of her income than she would have expected in normal circumstances, since she'd moved in with Ceasaí and the House of Black was covering most of her expenses, and even most of her Christmas gifts this time.

She'd asked Andi for an estimate of roughly how much she could expect to pay, for her wedding dress and everything else she'd need for that day. It was hard to say for certain this far ahead of time, but at least there was a pretty good chance she wasn't going to make it. It was going to be close, either way.

The volume of gold Andi had told her to expect to spend was a frankly ludicrous amount of money — honestly, she was pretty sure her wedding dress was going to be worth more than her parents' home. It seemed like such a waste, considering she was only going to wear it for a single day. There were some things she'd be able to reuse, she guessed, but the bulk of it...

Part of her was starting to regret insisting on paying for these things on her own — the cost would be trivial for Ceasaí — but she didn't really mean that. It was the principle of the thing, it would be... It just wouldn't feel right, for Ceasaí to pay for it. Dressing her family was one thing, but her things just...felt different. If the circumstances were different, if Síomha had absolutely no capacity to make this kind of money for herself, maybe she'd accept the embarrassment, but she could come up with that kind of money now. She just didn't know if it was going to be quickly enough.

It'd be very convenient if she could get in on one of the guild's big contracts, like with Saint Mungo's, or Public Works, or some major apothecary or wardcrafter or the like. Unfortunately, a lot of things in the guild tended to work on seniority, or through knowing the right people, or just having the right name — politics could be like that. Síomha might have impressed some of the right people with her work on spectral mechanics in silver, but she was still just a novice, her Mastery not even a year old yet. She'd gone through the classroom programme at the Academy and not a traditional Mastery, so she didn't have useable relationships with the big names, and obviously she wasn't from a family of any importance.

She probably could lean on Ceasaí's name to open doors, but doing that would feel like...cheating, somehow.

At this point, she was considering taking Ceasaí up on her offer to talk to people about finding jobs for her. That would just be networking, which was perfectly normal — it felt a little slimy, going through her noble lover who wasn't even in the craft, but it wasn't materially different from the sort of thing people higher up in the guild did all the time. Even if the thought of using someone she was sleeping with to get ahead in her career made her feel gross.

Honestly, needing money for things was terribly inconvenient sometimes. This would be so much easier if Ceasaí weren't a literal Black...

The workshop was rather cramped, and dark, stepping out onto the street was something of a relief, the air cool and wet with the winter rains, the sky streaked with the colours of sunset. It was somewhat drier on this side of the island at this time of year, but it wasn't a large difference, the sky still thick with clouds. There was even a thin sprinkling of rain at the moment — Síomha charmed her clothes imperturbable but didn't bother stopping the rain from reaching her, frigid near-freezing droplets plinking against her skin and into her hair. A warming charm would stop her from getting too cold, after the cloying environment of the workshop the rain felt too pleasant for it to feel worth it to keep it away. She tipped her head back, letting the drops splatter on her face, her feet idly leading the way out of the city centre, away from the Hill and toward the lake, and home.

There was a bit of a crowd around, which wasn't a large surprise for this area of town at this time a day, but strained and fast-moving, people rushing to get home. Which also wasn't a surprise — most people weren't silly enough to hang around in the December rain for no good reason. Síomha ignored them, relaxing, the cold clean water tickling at her skin, the winter breeze wicking away the lingering chemical smell of reagents and alcohol and cleansing fire. Letting her mind slowly turn from serious thoughts about work, and saving up the money she needed, toward their plans for the holidays.

It was going to be a busy Christmas season. Willow was coming home next week, which she was looking forward to more than she honestly would have expected. She'd managed to visit a few times since the start of term, but three and a half months was far too long for an eleven-year-old to be away from home like this. (Willow hadn't even been hers for very long, but she still hated it.) There would be Christmas with Síomha's family, and then Christmas with Ceasaí's family, and a few days later they'd be having a formal engagement service — at the same time there would be a thing to welcome Ceasaí to their church, part of her catechesis. And then not long after that would be her formal adoption into the House of Black.

Síomha was going to be nobility in a few weeks, legally, which was...surreal to think about. Her family were bloody farmers...

(She couldn't get through a formal tea without making it very obvious how much of an uncultured bumpkin she was. But that was a separate problem.)

So, not only a busy Christmas, but also a significant one. Her life was going to be different after this holiday season, in meaningful ways — even if becoming a Black wouldn't have many immediate effects beyond the paperwork.

She would still be keeping the money for her wedding dress separate, and continue using only the money she made herself to contribute to the fund. Which, yes, she realised was a little silly, considering she would have direct access to the absolutely enormous Black fortune in a matter of weeks, but it was the principle of the matter.

The slow walk she was taking, her thoughts sluggishly plodding along with her steps, took her beyond the guildhouses, the crowd gradually thinning as she left the busiest part of town behind. She decided to take the Green Avenue, the wide open street bare of food stands and lingering young people for the moment — there would be activity in the markets and the parks, but it didn't tend to spill out into the Avenue in this kind of weather. There were a few carts trundling back and forth, carrying supplies into or out of the city centre, pulled by horses (winged or not) or propelled by enchantments, wheels rattling on the stones as they passed. It was quiet, the crowds kept indoors from the cold and the rain, some of the trees and brush bare for the winter but others evergreen, the plantlife framing both sides of the avenue and run down the middle a mix of living and dormant, a few hardy winter flowers showing themselves here and there.

She did like the Green Avenue in summer, but there was a quieter sort of charm to it in winter as well. This wasn't actually the most direct route between the guildhouse and home — she'd diverted this way just because she felt like it.

If she hadn't taken an emptier street, if she hadn't been idly looking around at the plantlife all around, Síomha might never have noticed she was being followed.

She immediately stopped when she noticed the figures tailing her, turned to stare back at them. If she'd been thinking, maybe she would have pretended ignorance, but she was so surprised she couldn't help it — a pair of people, in plain, undecorated clothing, the details of their figures and faces hidden with cloaks. And they were following her, when they saw they'd been spotted they quickly scrambled out of the open street to hide behind some bushes. With the bushes partly barren they weren't doing a great job of it, enough of their forms sticking out to make their presence obvious.

They stared back at her through the bushes, tense and waiting.

(Síomha remembered viscera splattered against unnatural black ice, the stench of burning flesh clinging to the back of her throat.)

Once she gathered herself, she quick turned on her heel — a squeeze of apparation later, and she was standing in the entryway at home. She sat down on the bench and moved to untie her boots by hand, her fingers visibly shaking.

Síomha had half-expected to be greeted by Ceasaí immediately, but by the time she had her boots off and set aside she still hadn't heard anything. The lights in the kitchen were on, but Ceasaí wasn't in here — now that she glanced at the time, her sudden apparation had her home earlier than she'd expected, she supposed it wasn't a surprise that Ceasaí hadn't started dinner yet. She wasn't in the sitting room either, she might be upstairs, but Síomha decided to check the dining room first quick.

Ceasaí was in the dining room, it turned out. She was sitting at one of the chairs, a few journals and texts strewn seemingly at random across the table, one set in front of her, Ceasaí bent over it with a pen flicking back and forth in her fingers. It was an unusually academic state to find Ceasaí in, Síomha not having met her until decades after her formal education had ended, but one which had become increasingly familiar over the last few months.

With Willow away at academy, Ceasaí had quickly found herself with far too much free time on her hands. She was self-aware enough to realise that she wouldn't deal well with idleness, so at first she'd kept herself occupied with various projects, whatever she could find — baking had been a big one, in the early weeks, the house had constantly smelled of it. Ceasaí did turn up to a duelling thing now and then, but not very often, little more than she needed to to keep her membership current. The largest reason she'd begun duelling professionally in the first place was as an excuse to travel, and with Willow pinned down at Hogwarts she had very little in the way of motivation to do anything with it. She'd gotten caught up in drilling some amateurs at the gym in Glasgow a few times, but besides that...

It was very obvious that Ceasaí was having trouble, so they'd had a conversation about what exactly she wanted to do with herself, just a couple weeks into September. Síomha had felt a little awkward about forcing that conversation, but she'd swallowed down her discomfort with...not lecturing, exactly, but something close to that, trying not to think about the fact that she was having a what do you want to do with your life conversation with someone who was literally sixty-one years older than her. It turned out Ceasaí had been considering going for a Mastery in History of all things — maybe even going to a muggle university to study the subject, though that would take some doing. Síomha had been somewhat blindsided, but she'd brushed it off quickly, and suggested Ceasaí just go ahead and start reading some journals, some more modern history works. History as a field wasn't quite so formalised as something like, say, alchemy, Ceasaí could catch up and just start participating in...whatever it was historians were discussing these days. Her understanding was that most of them were hobbyists anyway, there was no reason Ceasaí couldn't simply insert herself as soon as she was caught up on the current state of the field.

Ceasaí had started reading up on...whatever pretty much immediately after that conversation, though it'd soon been interrupted for a time thanks to the big scandal around Sirius's innocence, and everything that had followed it. Things had started to calm down some time ago now — or at least the mess that was continuing didn't require Ceasaí's constant participation anymore — so Síomha had caught her reading rather more often lately. It was nice to see, honestly, even if she didn't know enough about the subject matter to follow whatever it was that had Ceasaí's attention this time. One book title she could make out from here seemed to be focussed on something to do with the period around the implementation of Secrecy, that had been a whole mess...

Just seeing Ceasaí, occupied with something so thoroughly normal, had some tension Síomha hadn't been entirely aware of loosening, the jittery nerves finally going quiet. She was fine, everything was fine.

(She tried to pretend she couldn't taste an echo of burning flesh, clinging at the back of her throat.)

"Good afternoon, a leannáin," she said, drifting nearer the table. "You seem occupied."

Ceasaí let out a long, distracted hum — she continued reading for some seconds, before finally looking up. Her perpetually unfamiliar face softening with a smile, she said, "Ah, Síomha. I'm sorry, I didn't catch that, I was..." She frowned, cast a time charm with a snap of her fingers. "You're home early today, but I should probably start dinner anyway. I got a little carried away, it seems..."

"That's all right, there's no rush. What are you reading about there?"

"Oh, the Secrecy wars in the Balkans." Ceasaí made a quick mark on the page she was on, scrawled something in the margin, before folding the journal closed and setting it aside, her page saved with her pen hooked onto the inside of the spine. "The conflict in that region of the world was particularly vicious — there is the extermination of entire communities of People of the Song, of course, but even putting that aside... There's some work being done lately connecting the conflicts in various European nations going into Secrecy with their circumstances in the opening days of the Revolution, which are... Well, some scholars try to connect them a little too directly — the dividing lines through society in the two conflicts aren't one to one — but there certainly is something there. It's interesting, at the least.

"And you, how were things at the guildhouse today?"

"Oh, all right." Her worries about whether she'd be able to work up enough money in time for the wedding swirled in her head, she nearly broached the subject of Ceasaí introducing her to people who might want alchemy work done. Instead she blurted out, "I was being followed."

Ceasaí suddenly went very, very still. She sat razor-straight in her chair, blue eyes with a few flecks of hazel-green staring unblinkingly back up at Síomha. Her voice flat and cool, she said only, "What?"

"I noticed, on my way back home, there were two men following me."

"Are they here? Did they follow you all the way home?"

"No, I apparated straight home as soon as I noticed them, back on the Green Avenue." When Ceasaí didn't say anything, still staring steadily back at her, the room beginning to feel noticeably cool, she added, "I'm all right. It was a little unnerving, but nothing happened."

Ceasaí kept staring for a second, but then twitched, seeming to lurch into motion. "Forgive my, mo chéile, but I cannot simply hope that remains the case."

Well, no, Síomha understood that, but—

"Nola." After a couple seconds, the elf appeared with the usual sharp pop. "Síomha and I are joining Sirius at Ancient House for dinner. Keep an eye out for anyone suspicious hanging around the townhouse."

His broad forehead wrinkling with a frown, Nola tilted his head, blinking up at Ceasaí. "Is there being someone Nola is to be finding?"

"Síomha noticed some men following her home from the guildhouse."

The elf went almost as still and tense as Ceasaí, his eyes flicking up to Síomha for a second before giving Ceasaí a firm nod. "Nola understands. I will be watching." He disappeared with another pop.

"We really don't need to make a whole serious thing out of it," Síomha said. "Nothing happened." And honestly she'd rather just not think about it, it'd been unnerving enough the first time...

"It doesn't hurt anything for Nola to keep an eye out. Besides, I'm certain Sirius would appreciate the company."

"...Sure, I guess. Were we leaving right away, or did I have time to clean up and change first?"

It turned out Ceasaí wanted to leave immediately — though she did walk Síomha up to their bedroom to retrieve a change of clothes, before apparating the both of them straight to one of the baths at Ancient House. Ceasaí would leave her to get cleaned up, said she'd be in the kitchens starting dinner. Though, of course, Ancient House being a huge confusing maze like it was, there were multiple kitchens, and Síomha honestly wasn't even sure where in the bloody place they were. Ceasaí gave her directions, and she could just call for an elf if she got lost.

"Actually," Ceasaí said, cutting herself off in mid-sentence, "you know what? Let's go with, ah...Marris."

An unfamiliar elf appeared nearby with the characteristic pop of house-elf displacement. This one was an adult woman, somewhat unusually tall for their people, her big eyes a bright vivid blue-violet. "Lady Cassie calls for Marris?"

"Yes, Marris, I have a very important job for you. I'm concerned someone might try to attack Síomha if they find her alone in public. I want you to keep an eye on her at all times, and get her to safety if anyone tries to harm her."

"I really don't think that's necessarily, Ceasaí."

"For my peace of mind, Síomha," she muttered — her hand found Síomha's, her grip unexpectedly tight. "Please."

"...Fine." Turning to the elf, Marris, Síomha said, "Don't risk trying to fight anyone, if something happens just teleport us out. Okay?"

Marris nodded with typical elven enthusiasm, quick enough her ears visibly flapped a bit. "Yes, Lady Síomha, I can be doing this! Lady Síomha is good for thinking of the elves, I will be being careful. We are doing a binding," Marris asked, her head tipping back toward Ceasaí, "so I can follow?"

Síomha didn't really understand what Marris was asking, but Ceasaí apparently did — she called Menae, the ancient-looking chief elf, and Síomha was given a brief explanation which happened to include more about how house-elf magic worked than she'd learned in the rest of her life put together. Normally speaking, an elf would be tied to the magics of a place, or to a particular person, which granted them a degree of awareness of that place or person. Or, sometimes, both — the elves at Rock-on-Clyde were tied to the lands there, but Cediny had additionally tied herself to Willow, so she would hear it if she called for her while away from the Manor. A handful of ancient Houses like the Blacks were somewhat different, in that all the lands and peoples of the House were bound together with...

Well, Ceasaí simply called it the Family Magic, but Síomha's understanding was that it was a complex system of blood magics. Ceasaí had warned her that her adoption would involve blood magic, after having it described to her she'd decided it was fine — the ritual didn't actually involve doing anything with blood, she was simply supposed to donate a few drops into a pool hidden under Castle White. (It was a reservoir, basically, she was aware that most Church authorities considered using unaltered blood for identification purposes to be acceptable.) The various wards and rituals had certainly been set through means that would not be fine — she privately suspected human sacrifice might have even been involved at some point — but they'd been standing for centuries now, maybe even millennia, maintained by the magics of the land the same as any ward. Síomha wasn't entirely comfortable with the idea of donating her blood to the Family Magic, but since it didn't require her to actually perform any illicit magic, she was pretty sure it was fine. Mostly. They did it after marriages too, so the new person being brought into the House as well as any children born from them would be properly integrated into the Family Magic, and since the blood didn't actually do anything, it was even entirely legal in Britain? No different than the goblins using blood to identify clients under certain circumstances, she was pretty sure. She was mostly certain it was fine.

But anyway, elves could also tie themselves to a phenomenon such as the Family Magic in much the same way they might a place or a person — and since the Family Magic bound together all the lands and peoples of the House, through that connection they would become aware of all of it. That was why the elves would respond when called by Ceasaí or Sirius, no matter where they were, but also Willow or Síomha so long as they were on Black land. Nola was tied to Willow individually, so he'd be able to hear her no matter where she was — something Ceasaí had done immediately after taking her in, for safety reasons — but the same wasn't true of Síomha, the Black elves could only hear her so long as she was under wards that were tied into the Family Magic.

Ceasaí wanted to have Menae tie Marris to Síomha, which was apparently something the chief elf could do, so Marris would be able to hear her while she was away from home. And not only hear her when she called, apparently elves had some degree of awareness of their charge's circumstances, at all times — Síomha didn't quite follow what form that awareness came in, exactly, she got the impression elves perceived the world rather differently than humans did. Marris would be able to feel whether Síomha was in danger, was the point, and would be able to act quickly. Really, it would only be necessary for the next couple weeks — after her official adoption, she'd be tied into the Family Magic, so the elves would be able to feel her out regardless — but even after that they'd keep the binding in place, and Marris would continue keeping an eye on her. Watching out for Síomha was just going to be Marris's job now, basically.

...And also the children, when they came around — Marris was also a little surprised by that part, giving Menae a double-take when she mentioned it.

So, Ceasaí basically wanted to give her an elven bodyguard, was what Síomha was getting from this. She still thought this was an overreaction — honestly, noticing someone was following her had been unnerving, but nothing happened. That Marris would also be charged with watching the children when they came around actually made it easier to agree to.

The binding itself was unpleasant. Menae had Síomha and Marris clasp hands, and then placed her own hand on top of theirs, and cast the spell with the usual sharp click of her fingers. The magic snapped against her like ice-cold wires twining up her arm, slashing its way through her skin — it only lasted a moment before the worst of it faded away, leaving a cool, vague ache all the way up her arm into her shoulder. This wasn't normally a problem for Blacks, but the binding was technically dark magic, and the Family Magic tended to attune them to the dark practically from birth. It'd affected Willow too, probably more severely than it had Síomha — her own magic was rather neutral in tone, but Willow's was noticeably light — Ceasaí and Menae both assured her it was normal and the echo should wear off.

The elves popped away, and Ceasaí went to start dinner, leaving Síomha alone in the bath. Soon she was floating face-up in hot, soap-slick water — the heat chased away the lingering chill from the dark magic very quickly, eating away at the tension remaining in her limbs. She stared up at the ceiling, half-hidden by steam, her thoughts slowly spinning as she drifted.

In the quiet of the bath, alone, safely removed from the moment and from Ceasaí and the elves fussing over her, she started to wonder whether Ceasaí was truly overreacting.

She remembered the attack in the market — Ceasaí yanking her down to the ground before she even realised anything was happening, and then spells were flying, and it was loud, and confusing...and then a sickeningly dark curse came within inches of hitting Síomha, and suddenly people were dying...

(She remembered entrails scattered across the ice, the taste and texture of burning flesh sticking to the back of her throat.)

Most of the time, she still thought of herself as...well, herself. Nobody important, a simple daughter of poor farmers who'd managed to get lucky enough to find her way into academy, and then a Mastery. She was good at alchemy, sure, but she was still just...Síomha Ní Shirideáin. Nobody important.

She knew, intellectually, that that wasn't really true anymore. The entire bloody country knew her name, thanks to her relationship with Ceasaí. And Willow, of course — she was a mother to the Girl Who Lived now, that was...going to get noticed. Her name had been in the papers more time than she could count, her face, people knew what she looked like, she'd been recognised by strangers more than once.

She would legally become nobility, in just a couple weeks. A simple daughter of poor farmers, a literal Black.

And those men had been following her. Nothing had happened, true, but she wasn't naïve enough to believe they'd had benevolent intentions in mind. It wasn't unreasonable for Ceasaí to be concerned, to want to act before something happened.

Something like that attack in the market. They'd been aiming for Ceasaí, she remembered, but if they came for Síomha next time, if she were alone...

Síomha had no illusions about her ability to fend off that sort of attack on her own. It'd been so fast, she hadn't even realised what was happening before the spells were already flying, and loud, and then people had been dying...

It still didn't feel entirely real to her. She knew it was serious, they'd already been attacked once, those men had been following her, she knew that — but she still felt like, just, Síomha Ní Shirideáin. Nobody important, nobody anyone should care enough about to bother seeking to harm.

Perhaps Ceasaí was right, to take precautions. It still didn't feel real to her, if left to her own devices, Síomha probably wouldn't think to do as she should, to keep herself safe.

The Green Avenue had been very empty today. If those men had meant to attack her, like those people at the market, there would have been no one there to help. Síomha could simply apparate away, and had, but if they struck too quickly for her to react...

When she thought about it, calmly, maybe Ceasaí wasn't overreacting.

She wasn't sure how she felt about this realisation. This was just her life now, she guessed — the possibility of being attacked by strangers in public was simply something she had to consider.

(She wasn't just Síomha Ní Shirideáin anymore.)

By the time she reached the kitchen, dinner was well on its way, the air thick with the smell of cooking fish and mushrooms — Ceasaí still didn't entirely understand the fasting rules, so she tried to play it safe around certain times of the year, which was sweet of her. She also wasn't alone in here. "Ah, Síomha, there you are!" Sirius called in his awkward Gaelic, turning to smile at her from the table. "I hear you had a bit of excitement earlier today."

So, while Ceasaí finished up dinner, Síomha found herself sitting at the table telling Sirius about her little incident. Not that there was all that much to tell? Nothing had really happened. The men following her had hidden in the bushes as soon as they'd noticed her turning around, and they'd been too far away for her to have any hope at recognising their faces. She'd apparated away more or less immediately. If things had been moving quickly, she had stalled long enough to maybe be in trouble, but they'd been far enough back that they hadn't been in position to do anything...yet. Assuming they had meant to do anything to her today, she actually didn't know that one way or the other. It was possible she'd managed to get away before they could try anything, but it was also possible that they hadn't planned on anything, just...follow her. Regardless, there wasn't much to say about it, was the point.

Sirius suggested that they should be able to use a pensieve to get a better look at their faces — they had access to no less than three of the rare memory-scrying tools, two belonging to the Blacks and one to the Potters — but she honestly couldn't see what the point of that would be. It was unlikely any of the three of them would recognise the men, and they hadn't committed any crimes, so it wasn't like they could report them for anything. Maybe seeing them again in a crowd or something could give her a split-second warning, but that didn't seem very likely...if only because Síomha wasn't likely to recognise a couple strangers if she saw them again, randomly at some unknown point in the future.

She guessed they could copy the memory, if they really wanted to, but Síomha couldn't see how it would accomplish anything. And she guessed that wasn't just her being uninformed, because Sirius dropped the matter fairly quickly.

For how long she'd been lingering in the bath, Ceasaí had dinner ready soon — Síomha had hardly been in the kitchen for maybe five minutes before she was setting out plates of fish with mushrooms and vegetables in...some kind of wine sauce, she had no idea. There were times Síomha didn't have the words to describe Ceasaí's cooking, rich, cultured cuisine that she'd simply never had anywhere else. Well, fine restaurants, she guessed, but she was normally at those with Ceasaí, so...

Of course, Ceasaí would also make food more toward, well, peasant tastes, to be blunt. Her lamb roast was amazing. She seemed to switch back and forth between things Síomha could recognise, or things inspired by the food somewhere they'd visited while travelling for duelling events, or muggle food, or fine upper-class things that had been entirely foreign to Síomha, before. By the herbs and the tang of wine on the sauce, she thought this could maybe be some upper-class thing she wasn't familiar with, or maybe it was just supposed to be Italian or something, it was honestly hard to say.

Both were things she would never have gotten before meeting Ceasaí, so she guessed the distinction hardly mattered — at a certain point, it was all the same to her.

The conversation was put on hold as they all started eating, one of the elves (Síomha didn't recognise this one at a glance) pouring glasses of wine. A white wine...or, she knew it would be called white, but it looked noticeably yellowish to her, almost gold, the fluid with enough particulates suspended in it to be partly opaque, somewhat smokey-looking to the eye. It was fine, she guessed? She was sure it was expensive, and the elf had likely chosen it with the meal they were having in mind, but Síomha simply didn't have the palate to appreciate it.

It was good, sure, but she was always left with the feeling that she was missing something. Simple daughter of farmers, peasant tastes, fine wine was wasted on her, honestly.

When conversation did start up again, it was focussed on the upcoming holidays. Sirius seemed a mix of nervous and excited over the prospect of finally meeting Willow in person for the first time — it was surprisingly charming, honestly. But that wasn't entirely unusual for him, Sirius had turned out...far more earnest, than Síomha had expected from his reputation. He could be very sweet, especially when it came to Willow in particular, enough to make her almost forget that he was an extremely dangerous sorcerer and battlemage. But then, she could say much the same about Ceasaí, she guessed Blacks were just like that, sometimes.

Thanks to Ceasaí's metamorphy, the two didn't look anything alike, but there was still a family resemblance, in their personalities, in the way they held themselves and how they spoke. It was strangely adorable to notice.

(It was difficult to imagine what their children might look like, since she had no idea what physical features Ceasaí might pass on, but she thought she might have a better idea of what they might feel like.)

(Besides, if she had anything to say about it, their children wouldn't look any particular way. She was still working on that, when she had time.)

Talking about the holidays brought them to the rather busy schedule they had. The Blacks would be coming together on the evening of Christmas, the gathering pushed somewhat late so Síomha could spend all Christmas Eve and the morning of with her family. Willow had actually asked if she could accompany Síomha this time — she hadn't come out and said as much, but Síomha suspected she missed her — so she'd be coming with her to her parents' house early on Christmas Eve all the way through breakfast/lunch/whatever-the-proper-word-was at the farm on Christmas Day. Willow had admitted that she'd never been to a vigil before, hopefully wouldn't be too excited over the holiday to get a nap in ahead of time.

Sirius didn't want to miss the official betrothal, though they hadn't been sure whether that was a good idea — he didn't exactly show his face in public much. When talking to Father Caoimhín about the ceremony, Ceasaí and Síomha had mentioned it to him, and he'd agreed that Sirius should be there. Part of the family she was marrying into and all that, obviously he should be included. It might be somewhat awkward, what with the decade of stories about his treason and mass murder, but he had been cleared of any wrong-doing, so Father Caoimhín hoped it wouldn't get too bad. It wasn't as though people in their parish payed that much attention to the news coming out of the English-speaking segments of their society, so she wouldn't expect as strong of a reaction as Sirius might get from Britons to begin with. Yes, he could come, it just might get a little awkward at points.

He was still openly bemused that Ceasaí had agreed to be baptised so they could have a proper wedding, but he didn't tease her about it. Well, not too much, at least — by this point, Síomha had already learned that Sirius Black was constitutionally incapable of not getting in a little teasing, about seemingly almost anything.

Of course, a lot of the 'teasing' came in the form of gleeful speculation on how certain deceased family members would react to Lady Black converting to Catholicism, so it could be worse.

Talking about the potential issues with Sirius showing his face in public unexpectedly turned the discussion toward the thing Síomha didn't really want to think about just now. "I'm not the only one who's got to be careful going out, now."

Síomha grimaced, and focussed on mopping up the remaining sauce on her plate with a bit of bread. And here she'd been having a nice dinner.

(The remembered smell of burning flesh simply ruined her appetite.)

"I've already had an elf assigned to watch her," Ceasaí said. "That doesn't entirely solve the problem — Marris may have trouble slipping in if curses are already being cast — but she'll be able to keep an eye out, at least. And if nothing else, the elves should be able to get me to you in a matter of seconds," with a light squeeze on her knee under the table.

Síomha dropped her bread to reach down and cover Ceasaí's hand with hers, fingers lacing together. Honestly, she had been worried about how much Marris would be capable of — elves were powerful, their magic operating on somewhat different principles, but she doubted they were taught how to directly fight human mages. If the point was for Marris to just pop Ceasaí over to wherever Síomha happened to be, that was actually reassuring. There were very few mages out there who could beat Ceasaí in a fight, as seeing her compete against professional duellists over the last few years had made clear. She felt better about that, yes.

(She tried not to think of the possibility that she might see Ceasaí kill someone again.)

The sound of Sirius's voice wrenched her out of that unpleasant thought. "That's better than nothing, I guess. I'd still be more comfortable if Síomha could defend herself worth a damn."

Her eyes drawn up from her plate, she blinked up at Sirius for a second. "What?"

"I'm not sure how much Cassie told you, Auntie—" He always said the word with a shade of irony, since he was older than her by a few years. "—but most little Blacks are taught to fight from the moment they're old enough to hold a knife. Comes with the territory, you see — our Family have been on the outs with more or less the entirety of the rest of the nobility, at one time or another. We've been through enough blood feuds and random bastards taking shots at us when they think they can get away with it that it's become something of a family tradition to all be vicious little monsters."

"He's exaggerating somewhat," Ceasaí said, squeezing Síomha's hand. "The last couple generations have been especially paranoid."

Sirius shot her a look. "Don't tell me it was really that much different when you were growing up."

With a little wince, she admitted, "I did say you were only somewhat exaggerating. I didn't start studying wizardry and swordplay until I was seven — and that was very formalised, more aimed toward duelling and exhibition than proper combat."

"Swordplay?" Síomha repeated, hearing the dumbfounded tone on her own voice.

Ceasaí turned to meet her eyes, one eyebrow curling up. "Yes? It's common in the nobility to study the sword alongside the wand. Tradition, you see, dating back to before Secrecy — lords among muggles were expected to carry a sword, at the least, even if they were rarely expected to use it. The Blacks were only unusual in that girls were taught alongside boys, but you see that in some of the other dark families as well."

"It was more common in Cassie's time than it was in mine," Sirius said. "When I got to Hogwarts, I was surprised how few of my classmates had ever even held a sword before. But anyway, the point I was getting at is, you're going to be Lady Black soon, and that puts a target on your back — the kind of attention, the kind of danger, that you weren't raised to know how to deal with. And you're going to be carrying my little nieces and nephews, you know, you gotta know how to take care of yourself, if it comes down to it. Just in case."

...He might have a point, honestly. She hadn't really thought about it in those terms but, well, she was familiar with the stories of infamous feuds between noble families, same as anyone else in this country. The Black specifically even came up in the stories, sometimes — they'd historically had a habit of offending the rest of the nobility more often than most. The whole scandal around Sirius sort of echoed some of those stories, in fact. "Nieces."

He blinked. "What?"

"No nephews, only nieces. We're both women — all of our children will be girls."

"Oh! Right, of course, that makes sense. Gonna be a lot of bloody estrogen in this Family soon, won't there?"

"House of Black," Ceasaí said with a little scoff, "we're sort of famous for bloody estrogen."

"Ha, yeah, good point..."

Síomha passed over the joke about the Family's reputation for producing warrior women to ask, "What would that look like? Teaching me to...defend myself, or whatever. How would we do that?"

"Ah, I'm not certain..."

His lips pulling into a smirk, Sirius drawled, "Aw, Aunt Cassie doesn't think she can hex you, even for practice. How sweet — going soft on me, Auntie?"

Síomha felt Ceasaí stiffen next to her in her chair, shooting a glare across the table. "Shut up, Sirius."

"Yeah, yeah, don't get your knickers in a twist. I was only teasing a little bit, it is..." Sirius glanced away, an odd, crooked, vulnerable look crossing his face for a second — but only for a second, disappearing under a smirk again. "But it's fine, I'll do it. It's not like I have a whole lot else to do with my time, all but locked up here so people don't riot seeing the escaped mass murderer. Idiots.

"I wouldn't be teaching you to duel," he said to Síomha, "or even really stick it out in a fight. The point isn't to win, it's to keep yourself from getting cursed, and dealing out enough damage to open up an opportunity to get away. For someone in your place— You're not a battlemage, you're the Mother of the Family — the goal is to protect yourself, the children, to run away if you have to. And make anyone in your way deeply regret it."

She was silent a moment, her fingers tapping at her wineglass, meeting Sirius's eyes as he stared back at her with a toothy smirk. She recognised that phrase, Mother of the Family, that's what they called Nymphadora Black — Henry Black's granddaughter, the entire House of Black post-Secrecy was descended directly from her, hence the name. If Sirius never ended up having children, which certainly seemed possible, the entire House of Black from this point on would be descended from Síomha, which must be why Sirius had thought to make the reference.

That was a...surreal thought.

Finally, she said, "I won't do blood magic."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "I know, Christians and blood magic, I'm aware. I can work around that. It'll be taking some useful options off the table, but it'll be fine, we'll make it work."

"...Okay. I'll learn."

While Sirius grinned back at her, seeming oddly thrilled, Ceasaí's hand tightened around Síomha's. The contrast between Sirius's enthusiasm and Ceasaí's unease was honestly almost funny. But, as much as it was clear that Ceasaí was uncomfortable with the idea... Well, she hadn't been overreacting, earlier. Síomha was going to be Lady Black soon — she might as well start taking seriously what that meant. If that required learning how to protect herself, by whatever standard Sirius had in mind, so be it.

Ceasaí hadn't been overreacting, and Sirius had a point. It seemed to Síomha that the only other option was to call off the wedding — and she was not doing that. She was willing to learn.

(She tried to ignore the echo of the taste of burning flesh, clinging to the back of her throat.)

---

Aww, poor Síomha is slightly traumatised. Oh well.

I just started the sequel to First Contact earlier today. When I get around to posting the fic, I'll temporarily post an announcement at the end of the first part to alert you all. I'm going to be doing at least two chapters for that, maybe three if I'm feeling it, before coming back to this fic to write through the Christmas holidays. See you all then.