Black Swan Effect

“He overslept again, I reckon.” James didn't hide a massive yawn at the Gryffindor table the next morning. “I mean, for real, not the half-arse excuse he gave us yesterday,” he said, absent-mindedly playing with the Golden Snitch between his fingers. 

Some younger girls gasped every time he stretched his hand to capture the tiny, fluttering Snitch. The Snitch beat its wings frantically, struggling against his vice grip, and each close escape drew a cheer from the audience. People seemed to enjoy watching him play with the Golden Snitch, and James Potter, who'd never wasted a chance to boast, enjoyed pleasing his audience as much as he enjoyed the game itself. 

Fourth year, Remus thought, fourth year, and he'd already seen birds making eyes to his friend since their journey on the Hogwart Express. It was all in the air, spreading like a fervent wildfire. He'd noticed Emmeline Vance violently blushing when she passed James on the train corridor, and he was pretty sure it was Gwenog Jones, captain of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team, who'd declared to her friends that she would like to “snog James Potter's face off”. Compared to Sirius, James was definitely a better catch in the ladies' eyes — outspoken and gallant, with a good sense of humour and a breezy charisma, which was no doubt more approachable than Sirius’s wilder, almost dangerous appeal, one that was as thrilling as it was intimidating, keeping people second-guessing about his next move. 

“Marry James Potter and fuck Sirius Black,” a girl had said in one of the train compartments, where she’d played Fuck, Marry, Kill with her friends. “Lily Evans is one lucky girl –– I would trade anything to have someone as fit as James Potter chasing after me. Only that he has a funny choice for a best friend. Sirius Black, you know, he is for fucking, not loving… Merlin’s beard, Lupin! It’s just a game, sorry… I’ll leave your friends out of this…”

“Uhm… guys?” Peter deserted his breakfast, looking as if he'd just seen a Grim. For once, he didn't seem engrossed in James's showy Snitch tricks or showering him with praises.

“Snivellus’s just grown a giant pustule on his nose?” James seemed a little more awake, turning to grasp the Snitch by his left hand. “Or Lily Evans suddenly realised her greatest ambition is to be Mrs. Potter?” 

“How could you put a nose care routine in the same league as a surreal fantasy?” Remus poked his scrambled egg with a fork, not batting an eye when James made a disgruntled noise. “Sorry, Pete, what were you saying?”

Peter shook his head in disbelief. “Hold on a second.” He rinsed his eyes with mineral water, then looked up again. “No, it can't be,” he muttered, staring at a particular spot on the other side of the Great Hall. “Sirius is sitting with the Slytherins.”

This remark left an effect on them immediately — James missed the Golden Snitch, Mrs. Black's cutting words swam back in Remus’s mind, you are to encircle yourselves with Cissy's respectable acquaintances…

Following Peter's glare, they looked over the Slytherin table. The architecture of the Great Hall reflected the grandeur of Gothic cathedrals, tall and shadowed, with the narrow stained-glass window that blocked out a good deal of morning light. These slim rays barely reached the Slytherin table in the far left corner, leaving most students there in the sedate darkness. Where Sirius was sitting now was actually the only spot touched by the warmth of sunlight, but even there he was half-veiled in shadow. On the opposite side of him was–– Narcissa Black.

Normally, James’s reaction was to shout –– explode and let it all out –– but this time, he only deepened his frown, a worry line on his eyebrows. It was strange –– to think that James in his first year had had this inexplicable crush on the young Black girl. Now, the way he regarded her was anything but kindness. She was speaking to her fiancé, the motions of her lips showing only contempt. Sirius’s eyebrows knitted in irritation. He was swirling a knife idly between his fingers before it was slapped away by Narcissa. She was definitely not making anything easy for him.

Remus knew James didn’t like it. He didn’t like anyone talking down to Sirius, girls and boys alike, family or no family. Ironically, being talked down to by people was something with which Sirius had various experiences confronting. Even when the Slytherins were removed from the equation, that still left plenty of people from the other side who got revulsed by his family name. That was what a Black got for toeing the line in-between –– Slytherin by heritage, Gryffindor by choice –– exclusion by both. But to what extent could a person really escape his own heritage?

Sirius Black is for fucking, not loving. His family are all mad, remember? You think he’ll turn out different from them? Don’t hold your breath. Mary MacDonald has it coming to her.

Murmurs rippled from students, many of which came from Sirius’s own house fellows. It wasn’t a well-received sight –– the Gryffindor black sheep breakfasting at the Slytherin table, in front of an infamous member of his family. The total lack of reactions from the Slytherin purebloods only made it look worse.

“They don’t hate him as much as they appear to.”

The voice was precocious, almost as low as a boy’s, with a tint of foreign accent. Only one person Remus knew possessed such a voice.

“Not her . The other ‘high-ranked’ pureblood scions,” said Mary MacDonald. “Selwyn, Rosier, Greengrass. It’s a rather complicated mix of feelings, what they have towards him. Apparently they’re puzzled.”

“Puzzled?”

“Of how someone sitting so high in their world could deviate so far from their expectations.”

“Is this what Sirius told his girlfriend?”

Mary smiled briefly. “He didn’t tell me any of it. It’s simply drawn from my own observation.”

Sirius and Mary had been dating since the end of their third year. Her relationship with the notorious Marauder was nothing short of a hot cauldron for attention –– in many respects, they were two people who couldn’t be more different from each other. She was a Muggle-born, half English half South African, and he…

Which brought Remus to a startle –– the engagement…

“Sirius already told me about it,” Mary said, as if she could read Remus's mind. “We decided to keep seeing each other as long as we could.” 

She levelled an unimpressed look at Narcissa's direction. Never had she uttered a bad word about Narcissa, but that look alone was enough to express her opinion.

Remus stared at her blankly –– Mary was indeed a charming girl. Not pretty in a conventional sense, but that was where she was attractive. And yet sometimes when he looked at her, especially when she was accompanied by Sirius, he felt like there was an invisible cold hand twisting his guts. 

He shook his head, swatting the cold hand away. Bollocks. That was all bollocks. He couldn’t be fancying his own friend’s girlfriend. He couldn’t fancy anyone .

o0o

He tried to talk with Sirius three times in Transfiguration. Two times at Charms. One folded sticky note was levitated to Sirius’s desk, scribbled in “HEY? KNOCK KNOCK?” By the time Potions took place, no more attempts were made. James continued to coax his best friend into speaking, but Remus was having none of that. He wasn’t going to waste his time trying to move an immovable wall, especially when that wall decided to turn a deaf ear.

Alright, he admitted; he only ceased his attempts after being snarled at by the bastard. His patience could only go this far.

“Don’t be a jerk, Moony. Say something nice or shut up.”

Last time he checked himself, he was still very nice though.

James's jaw slackened at Sirius’s reaction, because even him could not fathom this Prick Attitude. Remus, however, did not seem affected.

“For the whole damn morning, I thought you wanted to play Cold War with us,” he said calmly, “Turns out you are a fire hazard.”

Sirius’s gaze snapped to him, and he was smiling. Of course Remus Lupin was the kind of person who would smile despite any discouragement. But there was something oddly cold about that smile. He settled himself next to Sirius, but it felt like he was miles away. 

Down the tables, Lily Evans heaved a sigh and made some space next to her, which was all Peter needed to escape from the warzone without looking back. James, on the other hand, despite how much he would enjoy a rare opportunity to be close to Lily, remained at his seat. Bloody bastard, with loyalty shining out of his arse.

“Aww, someone is throwing a temper tantrum,” a portrait of a freakish Mediaeval woman with a horn-like headpiece taunted at him as he strode through the corridor to the Astronomy.

“Keep your nose out of other people's business, please,” he replied in annoyance, and the portrait cackled.

So, the rest of the morning was spent like this:

Remus’s eyes, kept straight forward, trying not to look sideways.

Sirius’s impatient foot, tapping on the floor relentlessly, the noise of which echoed rather loudly in the classroom, until Professor Sinistra had to remind him not to disturb the class.

No distraction. The lecture on the Twenty-Eight Mansions in Chinese astronomy, which should have been excitable, swam heavily through their muddled brains instead. 

“––the Well mansion, or the Well constellation, is part of the Vermillion Bird of the South. It consists of a star we’re all familiar with –– the Sirius star.” The professor’s eyes twinkled as they lingered on a certain raven-haired. “People in China named Sirius–– The Celestial Wolf .”

Remus: “...”

When he, inadvertently, looked at Sirius, the bastard was smirking.

Things slowly melted down in the afternoon, during the History of Magic class. The white flag was hoisted up by Sirius when Professor Binns read out the Goblin Rebellions of the eighteenth century in a flat, wheezy voice like an old vacuum cleaner. How anti-climatic.

“I'm sorry,” he whispered. His voice was very wheedlesome, but at least it sounded remotely sincere. “I was a right prat back then. Don't stay angry with me for too long,” he dipped the word “long" very low at first then brought it up high again, sweeter than ever. “Hex me or fire Dungbombs at me however you like, but I've just come up with a great prank, and Peter will distract the professors while we execute it and we will have a capital time.”

Remus: “...”

He was truly shaken by this shamelessness. But here it was. Here it was the end of it — James Potter had officially been disarmed. Nobody could understand how Sirius did that; he always got everything he wanted out of people. And it worked on James, oh yes, it worked on James Potter all the bloody times. But not on Remus. Not on him just yet. 

“Mother wants me and Cissy to start behaving like a couple,” Sirius explained when the silence from Remus started to feel too long. “Courting rituals among the purest families, or some nonsense like that. So we agreed to have daily breakfast together. We'll take turns, once every two days at the Slytherin table, the other day at ours.” 

“So? Was it a great start today?”

Sirius paused, then shook his head. “I hated every minute of it.”

Had it not been for the horrendous idea of having Narcissa Black eating at their table every other day , Remus would find the situation quite comical: they were both children forced to play the adult game.

“Breakfast together?” James snorted. “No offence, mate, but that sounds fucking dull.”

What would Andromèdes say?

“I was born to love, Sisi.” Her voice was no louder than the whispers of the wind. “Maybe you and Narcissa were, too…”

Sirius blinked several times. A strange expression was schooled in his face, and suddenly his eyes felt distant, as if they were seeing what others didn't see.

“If I were to marry someone, she'd better be the love of my life,” James continued, his voice steady and sure. “From the moment we dated, I would try everything to give her the world.”

Now Sirius’s attention was on James. He didn’t say anything.

“She wouldn’t have to live a day unhappy, when she was with me. Our love would be the love of the age. A romantic fairy tale, no less–– Ouch. ” James only stopped when Remus’s shoe caught him by the ankle. 

Their raven-haired friend remained oddly silent. He seemed troubled by something, twisting his fingers restlessly.

“When Narcissa sits with us next Monday, do remind me to be civil,” eventually he said. 

James squinted at him with a doubtful look. “You've always been an uncivil bastard, Sirius. Maybe put your ambition a little bit down?”

“That was uncalled for!” Sirius spared Professor Binns a glance, who was always too immersed in the bygone than the present world to notice what was going on, before he continued. “Hey, I know I don't have the best track record when it comes to my family, but… it's Narcissa.” The way he said it was as if it alone explained everything. “We aren’t close, but it wasn't always so bad. As children, there were even times when Narcissa would ask me to play the music for her dancing lessons — and slip Sugar Quills under my bedroom door in return.” 

James seemed incredulous. “She what ?”

“Time has changed everything between us. But things are already so complicated now, so I want to at least try being civil, even though––” He casted a sideways glance at Remus as he said, “Even though today I really acted like a pillock.”

It took Remus a moment to realise Sirius's eyes were on him, nervously searching for a reaction. 

Don't start looking at me like that again and expect I will soften easily like James , he thought to himself, giving a hard underline on his Defence Against the Dark Arts notes — ‘Lesson of vigilance: If something is glaring at you, check where it keeps its brain.’

Well, Remus looked at Sirius's ferocious glare, perhaps he should ask Professor Russell next time what he should do if he couldn't locate the brain anywhere. Russell must have mentioned it during the lecture and he’d somehow missed it.

“You should be careful,” he finally said, “Being anywhere close to Narcissa is far from giving you a good look. People started talking.”

“Does it make me look bad to you?”

“Merlin, no.”

“Then I don’t care. What you lads think is all that matters.”

Now Remus actually smiled. “Meet at Hagrid’s before your Quidditch practice?” he offered; an olive branch.

And with that, Sirius’s entire face brightened “Can’t wait till then.”

o0o

The air was tinged with soft, clean scents of asphodels, their white petals glowing in the twilight like distant stars. As autumn unfurled, oak leaves burned in fiery hues of red and orange, curling as they clung stubbornly to the thinning branches, which in turns brushed against the windows when a strong wind wailed by. Beneath it all, the earth slowly exhaled, its pulse subdued after a vibrant summer, smooth and cool underfoot, like a stretch of sand left damp and gleaming after the retreat of the waves. 

The garden outside Hagrid's Hut was quiet except for the low rustle of the wind, and the sound of a humming tune. Sirius was stroking a beautiful hippogriff on its head, the melody ghosting his smile.

God rest ye merry hippogriffs

Let nothing you dismay

The hippogriff, which Sirius named Witherwings, leaned to his touch and purred back in delight. 

“Who's the most adorable, Witherwings?” He cooed, wrapping his arms around the feathery neck. Witherwings made a gurgling sound in response, which made him throw his head back and cackle. “You know it's you, isn't it? I love you, I love you so much…”

Hippogriff cuddling aside, Hagrid’s Hut was where the two of them usually came to settle a disagreement. Open air and giant pumpkins and mossy scents of forest did a great deal to cool their minds down. And they both share a love for magical beasts (though not quite Hagrid’s level of obsession), which had made Witherwings the unaware referee for a number of occasions. 

Flicking open his zippo, Remus lit a cigarette and passed it to Sirius, making good on his promise yesterday. A fleeting breeze almost blew the flame off.

The boys stood side by side, smoking in a pleasant atmosphere. Sirius's fingers carded through Witherwings’s rough fur, untangling stray twigs and pulling out dead leaves with a meticulous care. The creature purred softly as he pat its beak. Hagrid had said this one was particularly stubborn, but the gamekeeper didn't hide his pleasure when his hippogriff grew to be very fond of Sirius. 

“I flipped through your book this morning,” Sirius suddenly said, flicking his extinguished cigarette to the ground. “Only a few pages. Before you woke up.” 

Remus raised an eyebrow at the evildoer. “Any last words you want to say?” he said, menacingly.

“Page 215 has your coffee stain.” Sirius let out a choked sound as Remus’s foot snapped out, catching Sirius on the shin. But then his expression softened, some seriousness creeping in.

“The story about the thorn bird… I can't stop thinking about it,” he said after a while.“ ‘There is a legend about a bird which sings just once in its life, more sweetly than any other creature on the face of the earth. From the moment it leaves the nest it searches for a thorn tree, and does not rest until it has found one…’   What's the next line, Moony?”

Remus was, admittedly, very surprised. “ ‘... Then, singing among the savage branches,” he carried on with the recital, “ it impales itself upon the longest, sharpest spine. And, dying, it rises above its own agony to out-carol the lark and the nightingale. One superlative song, existence the price. But the whole world stills to listen, and God in His heaven smiles.’ ”

Sirius looked satisfied with himself even more than when he was complimented by a professor. “Is that a Muggle tale? Doesn't sound like something from Beedles the Bard .”

“It is indeed a Muggle tale. A New Zealandic one, I reckon, or it might be straight out of Andersen.”

Sirius wondered who Andersen was, yet he didn't voice the question out loud. His gaze was fixed upon the hippogriff before drifting up to the endless expanse of the blue sky.

“The things I would do to be a bird,” he said after a while, “Flexing my wings, soaring up high, unhinged and free. Sing a song or two, even if it costs me a spine through my chest.” 

Then he suddenly snorted, breaking the moment. “Although I'm sure my song would be ear-bleeding. Nothing ‘superlative' about it.”

“I wish I were a bird, so I can fly far, far away from here, to Neverland…”

“What is a Neverland?”

“A land from the fairy tale Ted told me, Sisi. A magical island inhabited by beautiful mermaids, tropical plants, and exotic flamingos.”

“Will you take me with you there, too?”

“I will take you with me wherever I go.”

Remus observed his friend's unfocused gaze, wondering what was clouding his mind. Since their second year, sometimes his friend would slip into this cryptic silence — which he reckoned had something to do with Andromeda Black, one of Sirius's cousins. Sirius wouldn't shut up about her all their first year, but after the second summer, never had Remus heard him speak of her again.

“You know what, you can read all my books if you like.”

Sirius’s head snapped at him, his face deepened with a mirthful disbelief. Everyone knew how protective Remus was over his books, and yet…

“If you don't mind my humble self swooning over your precious books, good sir,” he licked his lips, eyes sparkling. Remus found the expression extremely ridiculous. Endearing, yes, but ridiculous nonetheless.

“Don't get too happy or I'll have to think twice,” he told Sirius. “Also, my mum gave you several old records. She thought you might like them.”

“Of course I'll like them,” Sirius's spirit seemed to leap with amazement. His sudden movement caused Witherwings to squawk warily. “I already loved them. Your mother has a terrific music taste, not like the Mediaeval plainchant mine always listens to,” he supplied, patting the hippogriff’s head to soothe it, and perhaps patting Remus’s self-satisfaction as well considering it’d been abnormally engorged.

“Don' have class this late anymore, ya boys?” They heard Hagrid's booming voice from inside the hut. “Fancy some tea and rock cakes? I've just baked them fresh––”

“Tea is okay, thank you Hagrid,” both boys echoed, remembering how Hagrid's rock cakes had almost broken their teeth last time. But before Hagrid could respond, a deafening roar broke through the air. 

“SIRIUS ORION BLACK THE THIRD.” 

James Potter, fully clad in Quidditch uniform, stood in the distance and hollered at the top of his lungs. 

“Our Quidditch practice already started ten minutes ago, you moron,” James barked, stomping closer, “And my Beater hasn't shown his sodding face. Didn’t you see the brutes Slytherin recruited for their Beat–– Merlin’s balls on the broomstick, keep that thing away from me!”

Witherwings raised its head haughtily at the sight of James, who was now caught frozen like a deer in the headlights. The Marauders functioned on the knowledge of three basic pillars: Peeves’s allergy to chewing gum wads, McGonagall’s worsened mood when she ran out of biscuits, and James’s eternal dread for all sorts of birds in general. “Look at its evil eyes! It’s gonna fucking kill me!” James shouted, while Sirius just laughed meanly. 

“You aren’t even scared of my dreadmonger little brother, but you’re scared of a four-legged bird?”

“Laugh all you like, Black, but this monstrous ‘four-legged bird’ of yours can’t be the excuse for you being late!”

“I'm on my way, if only you'd shut up for five seconds,” Sirius scrambled for his broom in haste, ungracefully kicking his shoes away to replace it with his Quidditch boots. Even as the two boys disappeared into the distance, their boisterous noises still echoed faintly across the grounds.

Idiots, Remus thought.

He turned to look up at Hagrid, who couldn't help but laugh at the boys.

“It seems I'm the last to stand,” he said casually as he grounded out the cigarette with the tip of his shoes. “So, Hagrid, how have the Blast-Ended Skrewts been doing?”

o0o

When you don't expect something to come too soon, it will make sure to come as soon as possible. The first day of their fourth year went by like a blast, and there came breakfast with Narcissa Black.

“Erm.”

And that was the dead-end of their eloquence. 

Three pairs of eyes darted to each other awkwardly, and then to Sirius and Narcissa. She was regarding him with the blank, death-mask expression that Remus had seen on Mrs. Black, making him wonder how often she had observed her aunt in order to school out a face like this. Narcissa took no notice of Remus, James, and Peter, probably deeming them unworthy to even earn her acknowledgement.

Her presence made the set of tableware in front of her look like the royalty’s regalia .

“Of all the companions you could have chosen,” Narcissa said coldly, without sparing them a glance, “you decided to befriend those who failed to maintain an appropriate distance from a mistress of House Black.” 

People scooted away from her at once to save himself from great troubles, except only James, who hardened his jaw, and Remus, who was happily engrossed with his chocolate pudding.

Sirius smiled unpleasantly.

“Now that wasn’t a polite way to say about people, was it?” his tone was filled with utter boredom, and not without teeth.

Narcissa’s eyebrows raised in a perfect arch.“There is a line to my tolerance.”

“We are tolerating each other, Cissy,” Sirius replied shortly and re-focused on his breakfast. Remus reckoned he needed some distraction before breaking his fragile temper again. Based on his knowledge of Sirius's track record and his history with the Blacks, it was already a miracle that he led the breakfast civilly this far. 

“Sirius,” came another voice, more tender than anything they'd heard this morning. Sirius looked up after the call, his smile broadening with relief and his tone softer. “Morning, Antoinette.”

Mary pressed a kiss on his hair. “See you after Potions.” And she squeezed his hand before returning to her seat, which was far from the four of them — far from Narcissa. She didn't bat an eye at the blonde Slytherin even once.

“How adorable,” Narcissa said icily, and suddenly her voice lost all the floating quality of it. “Have you failed to teach her some decorums of courting a pureblood? Or have you decided a girl of such blood is nothing more than just a fling, convenient to turn towards when marriage gets difficult?”

“I will take a lecture on perfidiousness from many people, Narcissa, but certainly not from you.” Just like “fight fire with fire", it needed a Black to fight with a Black. “Pray tell, how is Lucius Malfoy? You think you were subtle with your little trysts?”

“Lucius is perfectly well. He expressed his deepest concern for your declining reputation,” said Narcissa as she smiled for the first time. It was the smile of a Venetian mask, with nothing moving on her face save the motion of her lips. “Pray tell, fiancé , does it smell? When you are with her?”

James was already on his feet, but Sirius pulled him back to seat by the elbow.

“Easy, James… Someone is just upset because Lucius Malfoy’s other arm is busy wrapping around Cytherea Greengrass!” he laughed. “He might have come to see his Hogwarts sweetheart at the last minute, after spending time at the Greengrass Manor with its beautiful mistress!”

There was a slight bloom of colour on Narcissa's pale cheeks. On any other girl’s cheeks, it would have been a lovely sight to behold. But with Narcissa, it was the sign that their last hope of keeping the atmosphere civil had perished.

“If you think that harpy is anywhere near lookable,” her voice was laced with venom, “then either you're blind or your brain is inflamed!”

Sirius simply gave his most disarming smiles, the kind that hid death traps under it. “Are you jealous, Cissy?”

If one didn’t fully comprehend how hard Sirius had forced himself to play good-mannered, they certainly would when they saw the shadow of Mephistopheles on that face — one that could make a pacifist resort to violence.

“Look, you've just exposed yourself,” he spoke slowly and tauntingly, like twisting a knife. “You took great delight in insulting Mary, then let emotions overrule you when I acknowledged someone else’s beauty… Hm?” There was a low hum, laced with cruel innuendos. “Don't say you’re still holding onto that childhood crush?”

Whatever the devil's sake those words meant, Narcissa looked like she’d just been struck in the face.

“Say that again, you contemptible swine?” Narcissa let out a singularly high, out-of-breath laugh. She had finally dropped the stone-cold mask that she was so proud of, revealing the colour only a true Black had — a crueller one. “You think any woman will ever be self-sabotaging enough to love you?”

“Who said anything about love?” Sirius muttered.

“No one. Don't listen to her!” James interjected loudly. 

Narcissa ignored him. Her cold eyes rapt on Sirius, irises blazing, and when she spoke again, she looked like a snake in its full strike.

“You don’t have a perfect history of being loved, cousin. All the ounces of affection you've ever got from your mother is her shattered glass deep in your flesh.” At some point, the viciousness no longer made her beautiful,  but started to draw it back in the opposite direction. “And don’t forget the fiasco with that filthy handmaiden of yours — you must’ve been shedding happy tears when she toyed you like a pathetic little lapdog.”

When she finished, her perfect posture had slightly tilted forward, her chest rising.

Sirius blinked. He regarded her — his cousin, the most desired Narcissa Black — as though she was a hideous sight. 

“And that's the very same pathetic dog you're marrying. Go cry mummy about it.”

Narcissa flinched back slightly. This almost unobservable motion didn’t escape Remus’s watchful eyes, and a strange thought flitted through his mind –– that perhaps some part deep down of Narcissa still held some fear of the heir of House Black. But Narcissa was also a Black herself, so she faced him valiantly.

The two cousins now looked like they would burn each other alive on a wooden Cross, even if it were the last thing they could do in this world. The picture they created was as terrifying as it was intriguing to behold — her blonde hair and his raven hair, her ice-blue eyes and his stone-grey eyes — and yet, despite these wild clashes, their resemblance was uncanny . She had the same Grecian nose that descended in a straight slope as his, the same strong jaw and high, haughty cheekbones that relented to no one. They made an archetype of a Victorian gothic drama — something straight out of Brontë or Hardy, something that would inevitably end in darkness, or depravity. As if it was Fate’s final blow, these two people, bound by blood, were the pawns of an arranged marriage where the same tragic cycle would repeat itself until the only way to check-mate was destruction.

Eventually, as if sparing another breath here would drive him mad, Sirius rose from his seat and marched out of the Great Hall. James shot Narcissa a contemptuous glance before following his best friend, and Peter — poor Peter, trembling at the beautiful but terrifying Narcissa Black — hesitated for exactly two seconds before  scurrying off after James and Sirius.

Remus continued spooning chocolate mousse into his mouth. Across the table, Narcissa was rendered silent. But it was only a few seconds before she quickly re-composed herself. With her spine straightened back to the indifferent manner, she averted her eyes to Remus and gave him a cool assessment.

“I don't like the sight of you,” she finally said, setting her fork on the napkin with a flawless manner. “Why don't you just go wagging your tail after him like the rest of them?” 

Remus lifted an eyebrow — what a typical Black way it was to think the whole universe revolved around them.

“Why, a piece of mousse or two wouldn't harm, would it? My friends can wait.” He flicked his wand, and Narcissa's untouched plate slid to her. “Please eat. You'll exhaust yourself getting riled up by Sirius soon enough.”

“I was not riled up by him , and don't you dare speak to me like we're equal,” Narcissa said coldly, but at least she didn’t throw the plate away. Ignoring the very annoyed Miss Black, he scraped the last bit of chocolate cream in his cup, finishing his meal. Transfiguration would be in five minutes, and Remus had no intention to test Professor McGonagall's patience.

“By the way, your earring is dislodged,” he told Narcissa, tapping a finger on his own ear, and left.