Sins and Sorcery

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single wizard in possession of powerful magic, must be in want of a wife. 

However little known the feelings or views of such a wizard may be on his first entering a new occupational community, it is a fixed mindset among their new colleagues and peers, that he is considered the rightful property of witches and/or their friends.

“Albus,” Minerva McGonagall asked the Headmaster over breakfast one morning, “did you hire a new Defense Against The Dark Arts professor?”

“I might have, and I might have secured a new Potions professor to replace Horace as well, why do you ask?” He replied disinterestedly, his tongue darting out to touch the pad of his thumb. He turned to the next page of the Daily Prophet.

“I heard from Pomona at the Leaky Cauldron yesterday - she mentioned something about my knowing who our new colleague was, but she refused to reveal the name. She said either you would have to tell me yourself, or I’d have to wait another three weeks and find out on my own.”

Albus nodded and mumbled his affirmation.

“Well, I want to know who it is!” 

“You’ve taught both him and his friend.” He answered simply, evading the question and teasing his subordinate professor.

“What is his name?” The transfiguration professor prodded.

“Remus."

“Lupin? Remus Lupin?”

“Remus Lupin.” 

“Oh, he was a lovely young man… and powerful too! Is he married or single now?”

“Minnie!” Albus exclaimed at his meal partner. “That’s none of your business! And isn’t he far too young for you?”

“Not for me, Albus!” The witch considered for a second. “Single then… And I do remember that he had a corporeal patronus… What fine information to pass along…”

The Hogwarts Headmaster peered at his friend through his wire-rimmed glasses. “What are you planning, Minerva?”

“Albus, what if we set him up with someone in the castle?”

“He didn’t take the position to marry one of our colleagues, Minerva!”

“Maybe not, but he may fall in love with one of them. When is he coming?”

“He said that he’d attend be here to attend the before-term Ball because he asked to bring his sister, Bellatrix - you’d remember her also, I would assume; she was sorted to Slytherin. I saw no reason to call him here earlier than anyone else.” He turned to the next page in the newspaper.

“Albus, consider—”

“Minerva,” he said sternly, dropping the Prophet to the table in front of him, “he might not want a wife, and if he does it likely won’t be anyone from the castle.”

“The man is thirty-two and single, he is definitely,” she pressed her finger into the table to punctuate the word, “in want of a wife!”

“Perhaps he will take an interest in Amelia.”

Minerva’s brow furrowed in a quizzical expression. “Amelia? Professor Beaumont? Why not Aurora Sinistra, or Sybill Trelawney? Nymphadora Tonks maybe, or even Septima Vector! Why would you give preference to Amelia?”

“Because I knew that you would not champion her.”

“Of course I—”

Albus gave her a derisive look.

“You don’t like her as much as the other female professors. You don’t have the same relationship with her as you do the others, Minerva. You’ve known her little over a year and you still don’t like her tone, her attitude, or her humour.”

“Albus, how can you say such things to me! All of our colleagues are lovely and I respect them all the same!”

“Yes, you respect them all the same, but you don’t like Amelia.” The wizard picked up the discarded newspaper again. “And they’ll be working in tandem regardless; Defense is very similar and shares many elements of Duelling, and vice versa.” He added as an afterthought. 

Albus Dumbledore was an odd mixture of intelligence, quick wit, sarcasm, tact, and caprice. This and his forty-year acquaintance with Minerva McGonagall had been insufficient in allowing the witch a thorough understanding of his character. She might have countered his intelligence and some of his tact, but she was a woman of gossip, relationships, and sticking her nose where it usually didn’t belong. The business of her life was to be involved in as many lives as possible, and its solace was creating relationships from thin air. 

“I think Remus would prefer Nymphadora or Sinistra as a partner,” Minerva said, seeming to gloss over the latter of the Headmaster’s two sentences. “He was a year ahead of Nymphadora as a student and two behind Sinistra I believe, and he always was fond of Astronomy, and he kept high marks in History… So not only would he likely have some memory of each witch, he’d enjoy speaking with them on their fields of teaching.”

Albus kept his mouth shut, knowing that nothing he could say would sway the woman from her cause, or towards the idea that Remus Lupin might take an interest in Amelia Beaumont. 

Minerva hadn’t even asked about Horace’s replacement - perhaps it had slipped her mind - but the Headmaster was certainly not going to supply the information unprompted. 

Minerva McGonagall had consulted Pomona Sprout several times before Remus Lupin’s arrival a fortnight later. Pomona couldn’t wait until her colleague found out who the new Potions professor and Head of Slytherin House was - she hadn’t asked after anyone except Remus since the Herbologist had let slip about him at the Leaky Cauldron. 

Albus had asked Pomona to join him in his office for a glass of Firewhiskey after dinner on Monday. This, of course, was only a misdirect. Minerva hadn’t asked him about Remus’ friend either. 

“I have mentioned that his friend would be joining him several times - when she initially asked about her new colleagues after you told her at the Leaky Cauldron, I even outright told her that his friend would be the new Potions Master and Head of her rival House, and still she has only asked after Remus.”

“And you don’t plan on telling her until he shows up, do you?” Pomona asked, tipping the glass back into her open mouth and feeling the warm liquid slide down her throat.

“That is exactly right, Mona.”

“You know, usually I find you very mild, but sometimes… sometimes you throw me for a loop, Albus.”

“How so, dear?” The wizard emptied his glass between his lips and reached to the edge of his desk where the Firewhiskey bottle sat, half empty. 

“Well,” she started, pushing her glass across the table for her refill as the Headmaster poured himself another glass, “you don’t seem as… involved… as Minnie sometimes. Sometimes you’re almost a bit aloof, like you don’t think some things through.” She took her glass back, now filled again. “But this is diabolical, Albus! Us keeping this piece of information to ourselves if only for the shock value when he just… shows up the day before term commences. If you were another wizard, I’d almost think you were evil.”

As planned, Remus Lupin stepped off of the Hogwarts Express and onto the platform that he remembered so dearly from his adolescence a little after lunch on Saturday. Fortunately, Minerva’s office window allowed her to surveil the man as he traversed the Hogwarts grounds. 

His hair stood out most - not quite red like the Weasely family’s, but medium, russet-toned brown - and he wore a charcoal grey trenchcoat with a slightly faded Gryffindor scarf draped behind his neck. He carried a leather-looking briefcase in his left hand. By the time he was close enough for Minerva to glimpse his face, she was at too high an angle to make out much more than his eyebrows. 

“Drat.” She said to herself as she sipped her tea and turned back to her lesson plans. 

Out of sight of the Scottish witch, Argus Filch met the new professor inside the entry doors. 

“Good afternoon, Mr Filch.” The wizard greeted, extending his free hand to the caretaker.

“Remus Lupin, good ta see ya, boy!” He replied, taking his hand and giving it a firm shake after adjusting Mrs Norris, who was cradled lovingly in the older man’s arms. 

Remus shot the pair a warm and friendly smile. 

“Back as a Professor, eh?” 

“Yes, Sir. Defence Against The Dark Arts.”

The wizard and the squib conversed lightly as the latter showed the former to his living quarters in the smaller of the Gryffindor Towers. 

“Now, there are three diff’rent rooms ye can ‘ave. Ye can take tha top floor, tha fifth, orr tha fourth - they’re all clean an’ ready for an occupant so ye can take ya pick.” Argus explained as they stood in front of the door to the mentioned fourth-floor room. 

“Could I get the tour please, Mr Filch? Have a little look at them all before I decide?”

“A’course.”

A half-hour later, Remus was settling himself into the room on the fifth floor - though ‘room’ was a flawed term regarding the space he had chosen for himself. 

As a student, the wizard had never even known that this area of the castle existed. Professor McGonagall slept in rooms - he had found out that she got more than just a bedroom and an ensuite when some of his roommates in his third year decided it would be an excellent idea to prank the witch - on the second floor of the main Tower. It made sense that the Head of Gryffindor House would reside as near to her students as possible for various reasons and even more sense that her quarters would be in the very midst of the area. He was not, however, expecting an entire tower in the castle just for the Gryffindor professors. He was even more surprised at the expanse of space of each ‘room’.

Each set of quarters that the wizard was shown consisted of four rooms: a living room, a full bathroom (including bathtub), a large office space (complete with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lining two walls and a large bay window on the third), and the bedroom. 

He had chosen the fifth floor only because he thought it had the most scenic view - the main window in the living area faced out to the Quidditch pitch and a section of the Forbidden Forest. 

Both of Remus’ trunks had materialised immediately after he made his choice of rooms; one in the office, and the second in the walk-in wardrobe in the bedroom. He unlocked the one in the wardrobe first, procuring his clothing from where it had all loosely folded and tossed into one end when he packed. Coathangers began to appear as the man removed items from the trunk. 

Just as he unlocked the second trunk in the office, tapping started at the window. Remus found the hinges to open the glass panelling and took the piece of parchment clutched in the talons of the owl with a quickly uttered “thank you” to the bird. 

Remus,

Myself, the Headmaster, Professor Sprout, and Hagrid are all heading to the Leaky Cauldron after dinner tonight, at around 10 pm. I sent my Walter (the owl) to you so that you would not feel railroaded if one of us asked at dinner. You’re more than welcome to join us if you feel up to it, though do not feel obligated if you are too tired or would prefer to settle into your new quarters.

Best, 

Minerva McGonagall.

Much to Minerva’s chagrin, Remus Lupin had declined her invitation to the Leaky Cauldron. He reasoned that he was rather worn out from the long train trip earlier, and the energy it took for him to unpack all of his possessions and then conjure and charm his chosen furnishings. He explained that he would be turning in early to replenish his magic after he wrote and owled some letters, including one to his sister, Bellatrix, who would be joining the Hogwarts’ professors at their before-term Ball.

After dinner, however, Minerva didn’t mind so much - she’d been able to glean plenty of insight into the wizard over their meal in the Great Hall. 

First, he was attractive in many ways. His friendly disposition allowed him easy communication with everyone at the table, including the generally disliked Argus Filch. He demonstrated intellect with debate over some of the newest Handling and Possession of Magical Beasts laws handed down from the Ministry in the last month with Hagrid and discussed seasonal plants with Pomona after she requested his help with pruning the following day. And, as much as Minerva knew that she was much too old for him, she thought him very handsome. An excellent match for Nymphadora Tonks, she thought to herself.

Remus Lupin entered the ballroom arm-in-arm with his older sister a little while into the swing of the night. Amelia heard Aurora Sinistra’s voice in her head say ‘fashionably late’, as it seemed that everyone’s eyes were on the pair as they entered. Or, at least, that’s who the witch assumed everyone was looking at. 

Remus was good-looking and had a pleasant countenance about him. His chestnut hair was styled messily, likely with hairspray rather than hair gel (or the relative charms) as it didn’t have the ‘wet’ look of the latter option. He had pushed it mostly to one side in a wave-like imitation with a few pieces hanging over his forehead. Amelia noted that he had a full, easy, smile as he greeted a few of the patrons. 

Narcissa Malfoy, Amelia’s cousin (who had a permanent residence in England at the moment and Amelia had been the green light to invite; despite the witch not being a Hogwarts staff member), whispered to her that he was one of the most powerful wizards she’d been acquainted with during her stay. 

“You’re so lucky, Mil! He’s handsome and an amazing wizard. I heard from some friends at the Ministry that he’s currently contracted as a part-time cursebreaker, and you know how hard that is to do…”

“How old is he? And who’s he with then? Girlfriend? Wife?” Amelia asked, turning to her cousin after assessing the woman on his arm. Her dark, curly hair was piled half-up at the back of her head, splitting a streak of ice-white hair at her temple between the tied half and the free half. She looked bored already, staring down her nose at a few people that her brother greeted with pursed lips. 

“That’s his sister, Bellatrix, and I think he’s early thirties but I can’t be s—” Narcissa replied, trailing off.

“You can’t be what, Cissa?” Amelia prompted.

“Is that… Merlin, that can’t be Severus Snape?!” 

“Who?”

The witch turned back to the doorway where Remus and Bellatrix still lingered, but they were now joined by a third person. 

The first thing Amelia noticed was how imposing he was. He was a full head and shoulders taller than Remus and easily dwarfed him and his sister, but his manner made him intimidating. 

The wizard was clad head-to-toe in black - even his jaw-length hair was dark as night. He wore robes buttoned to the throat, and what seemed to be a tunic beneath it. His sleeves were buttoned at the wrists and spilled onto his palms as if too long for his arms. Upon closer observation, the man must have been hiding a white dress shirt somewhere beneath the sleeved tunic, as white material peeked out at his throat and where his sleeves ended. 

The man scowled so deeply that it seemed he was already forming wrinkles, despite seeming to be about the same age as Remus. 

“Who’s Severus Snape?” Amelia reiterated to her distracted cousin.

“Only the most powerful wizard in England! They say that he could best any wizard between here and Europe in any form of magic. Apparently, he’s the ultimate all-around magic-user.”

“And how old is he for them to be saying this? Isn’t he a little young?”

“He’s thirty-two I think,” Narcissa supplied.

Balls were always enjoyable for Amelia no matter which country or company they were in, but the Hogwarts staff truly created the warmest and most welcoming atmosphere. Every person in the ballroom made sure to dance with as many people as possible and it seemed that almost everyone enjoyed themselves almost every time.

Remus had fit himself right in, of course. He was lively and unreserved, danced every dance possible - both formal and informal - and implored his sister and companion to do the same. Such amiable qualities truly spoke for themselves. 

The contrast between Remus and his friend, Severus, was stark.

Severus had only danced with Bellatrix and Pomona Sprout (whom he seemed already acquainted with) the entire night and spent the rest of the evening either in a chair at the far edge of the room or speaking with the Lupins. 

No one seemed to enjoy his presence or make any attempt to engage with him outside of his own party, and he declined introductions to anyone who wasn’t in a higher-up position at Hogwarts. He was discovered to be proud; above the majority of his company, and above being pleased. He had a disagreeable countenance, and Severus Snape was entirely unworthy of being compared to the bubbly, affable, Remus Lupin. 

Minerva McGonagall - whose dislike of the man had actually begun many years before - in particular, felt especially slighted by the wizard when he’d refused to dance with any of ‘her’ girls. 

Every woman in the room had sat out of dancing several times during the evening due to the uneven ratio of wizards to witches. Hagrid had opted out of dancing quickly after knocking several people off their feet, and Filius Flitwick had also retired from group and partner dancing early. This only left Albus, Quirinus Quirrell, Cuthbert Binns - who was a ghost, so he was already very hard to dance with - and the newcomers: Lupin and Snape. 

Amelia had barely danced four songs all night and had been sitting out for the last two consecutively, as had Aurora Sinistra and Septima Vector. Each of the trio gripped wine glasses in one hand as they chatted about their summer holidays and watched the dancing in the middle of the hall. 

Severus Snape had been sitting at a table behind them, near enough for the three witches to hear a conversation had between him and Remus Lupin, who had just come from the dance floor and smiled at each witch on his way past. 

“Come, Severus,” he said, “you have to dance. I hate to see you sitting by yourself in this stupid manner. You really should stand up and dance.”

“I certainly shall not. You know that I hate dancing, and especially with strangers. I have no acquaintance with any witch here my age that isn’t your engaged sister, and there isn’t another woman in this hall that it wouldn’t be a punishment to dance with.”

“Oh, Severus, you’re so fussy. Stop being so critical! I have never met as many lovely women in my life as I have tonight, and a great many of them are both our age and very pretty.”

Amelia, Aurora, and Septima all smiled at each other.

“Remus, you are dancing with the only pretty girl in the room,” Severus Snape said pointedly.

The three witches had noticed that Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks had shared several dances and knew that the Metamorphmagus witch was who the man referred to. 

“Oh! She’s the most beautiful witch I ever saw! But,” Remus said, “all of the other witches are very attractive.” The russet-haired wizard dropped his voice a touch until he knew he wouldn’t be overheard by the eavesdropping witches in front of the conversing men. “Amelia Beaumont is very pretty, and I dare say very agreeable, and she’s right there,” he nodded in the direction of the group.

“Which do you mean?”

“On the left, the blonde in the mauve. Do let me ask Nymphadora to introduce you.”

Amelia turned her head to take a bread roll from the basket on the table and caught Severus Snape’s eye for a moment. He withdrew his gaze and - louder than Amelia thought polite for such a statement - said coldly: “She is tolerable, but not attractive enough for me to ask her to dance.”

The witch in question simply buttered her bread roll and turned back to converse with her colleagues, who both sported looks of disbelief. 

“You had better return to your partner, Remus,” Severus continued. “Enjoy her happiness, because you’re wasting your time on me.”

Remus Lupin heeded his friend’s advice and returned to the floor where his face promptly lit up as Nymphadora smiled at him. Severus Snape stood and left the hall quietly, likely retiring to his quarters for the evening, and Amelia continued to chat with her friends; but even the bread roll couldn’t get rid of the bad taste that the vacating wizard had left in her mouth. 

Amelia recounted this story to her more friend-oriented colleagues and her cousin with playful indignance; she delighted in absurdisms, and this was downright ridiculous. 

The remainder of the evening passed pleasantly. The French witch danced several more times with Quirinus - who, she found, was surprisingly sure-footed in partnered and group dances despite his anxious disposition - and even once coaxed Filius from his table for the last dance of the evening. Minerva had watched Nymphadora and Remus dance together throughout most of the evening, and even observed as the younger witch was introduced to Remus’ sister. The pair had promptly fallen into enthusiastic discussion until Remus lured Nymphadora back to the dance floor. The Metamorphmagus was quietly pleased with the ball’s proceedings, and Amelia felt the gratification of her best friend in the castle. Septima, Sybill, and Aurora had heard the Transfiguration professor speak with Bellatrix about how accomplished the younger female staff were and felt their pride rise in their chests.

Everyone returned to their own quarters at the end of the evening - several hours into the next morning - except Minerva, who followed Albus into his living room. 

“Oh, Albus!” the Scottish witch exclaimed. “What a delightful evening - that was an excellent ball! Nymphadora was the witch to catch Remus’ eye! Both of the Lupins commented on her beauty, and did you see how many times Remus and Nymphadora danced together? Almost the entire night!”

“Minerva, dear, I was there,” Albus said patiently, “I observed it all just as you di—”

“And you hired Severus Snape of all people? You remember the boy when he was a student here, surely! How could you bring him back? He was a nightmare!”

“This is why I didn’t mention it, Minnie. I knew that you’d react like this,” Albus sat down in his beloved burgundy armchair. “He’s a very powerful wizard and a fully qualified Potions Master. You know that Horace wanted to retire this year so Hogwarts needed a replacement Potions Professor and Head of Slytherin House since Amelia is still so new to England. It just so happened that Remus Lupin would not take the Defense position without my offering his companion one also, so I managed to kill not two, but three birds with one stone.”

“Well, he’s a right disagreeable man! He only danced with Bellatrix for two songs of the night while knowing that every dance had several witches at their tables due to the lack of wizards.” Minerva took a seat on the two-seat lounge to the right of Albus’ armchair, kicking off her shoes and tucking her feet up underneath her. “Did you hear that he outright rejected Remus’ request to dance with Amelia? He told Remus that she ‘was not attractive enough’ for him to ask her to dance! I might not be the witch’s biggest fan but she’s certainly not ugly! You can add ‘conceited’ to the list of adjectives I am compiling for the man - alongside ‘bitter’, ‘rude’, and ‘horrid’.”

In the morning hours of the following day, long before the students were set to arrive in the evening, Amelia and Nymphadora sat on the floor of the living room in the former’s quarters. Slytherin Tower was especially cold for so early in the Autumn season, so the pair had arranged themselves in front of the fireplace with a variety of snacks from Honeydukes. Nymphadora, who had lost much of her cautiousness throughout the conversation, was expressing to her best friend just how much she admired Remus Lupin. 

“He’s exactly what a good wizard ought to be,” she said, taking a bite of the licorice she grasped, “sensible, funny, lively— oh and he’s so well mannered! He was so friendly with everyone… he’s also quite agreeable on the eyes,” she said, punctuating the final observation with a comical raise of both eyebrows in quick succession. 

“He is rather handsome,” replied Amelia, “and all of his other traits truly complete his character. I did think he seemed very sweet - though I have yet to converse with the man.”

“He danced with me for most of the night and was pleasant the entire time, honestly, it was such a compliment,” Nymphadora took another bite, “he never made a move to sit down with anyone other than Bellatrix or Severus or dance with anyone else after me. It was so… flattering?”

“Didn’t you expect that, Dora?”

“Expect what, Mil?” She asked earnestly. 

“A compliment like that; that he didn’t make a move to sit down or dance with anyone after he danced with you? You’re gorgeous, and he clearly likes you,” Amelia said matter-of-factly. 

“Ahh, I’m not sure about that yet.”

“I am. You’re five times prettier than anyone else in the castle - even without considering that you're a Metamorphmagus - and you’re just as nice as you think he is. Why would he even look at anyone else? He barely looked at anyone who spoke to him this morning over breakfast in favour of eyeing you.” 

Amelia smiled at Nymphadora to make sure that what she’d said didn’t come off as bitter or jealous of her best friend. She might have grown up bilingual, but the French witch wasn’t always sure that her tone would be interpreted as she meant it. 

“You think too highly of me, Mil.”

“Regardless,” Amelia continued, “I give you leave to like him. You’ve certainly liked much less agreeable people.”

“Amelia!”

“I’ve never heard you speak ill of anyone in your life. You can never see people’s faults so you like everyone; you see the entire world as good and agreeable.” The witch sought to open a chocolate frog package.

“Well I don’t like judging people too quickly, but I do speak my mind of them.” 

The chocolate frog box finally came apart in Amelia’s hands, and she managed to grab the charmed candy around the belly in her left fist before it could hop too far.

“I know, I know; but sometimes you seem so honestly blind to the vices of other people… Hey look, I got Paracelsus again! This is my fourth card of his!” Amelia turned around and placed the card and packaging on her coffee table before continuing: “Sorry Dora… what was I saying? Oh, that you’re somehow completely oblivious to how much some people suck.”

Nymphadora had been in the middle of taking a mouthful of water and nearly lost it to laughter. 

“What do you think of Bellatrix? Is she like her brother? She seemed kind of snotty to me - like their companion, what was his name… Snake? No, Snape!”

“Oh, he seemed a right git, didn’t he? What was up with that?”

“Not a clue, maybe someone shoved his wand up his arse before he walked in,” Amelia deadpanned.

Nymphadora laughed until she wheezed, took another mouthful of water, and then replied to her friend’s first questions. 

“I’m not sure yet, honestly—”

Amelia rolled her eyes at how predictable her friend was: she was holding off expressing an opinion because she’d likely only seen ‘bad’ so far.

“No, truly! She talked with me for a little while and she seemed nice enough, but I will concede that she does have that air of ‘I’m way better than you’. She could get better with time… some people become nicer the more you converse. Bellatrix is apparently living in Newcastle upon Tyne in her brother’s house while he’s employed at Hogwarts.”

Amelia listened in silence as Nymphadora explained something of how the Lupin sibling enjoyed ‘muggle watching’ in the city when she wasn’t working as a musician - apparently Bellatrix Lupin was a rather well-respected flautist. She wasn’t convinced that the witch was even remotely comparable to her brother in temperament, but she wouldn’t pass a true judgement too fast because Dora could be right: she could just be the kind of person who needs to warm up to you (or you to them) before they show their true selves. 

“Enough about your lover’s friend, you did see the way Remus was looking at you at breakfast, right? It looked like he was just itching to talk to you some more!” Amelia teased, hoping to divert the subject back towards Nymphadora. 

The witch took a bite of the licorice in her hand before replying, “he is not my lover, and whether he likes me or not is unimportant at this stage because it is unlikely anything will transpire during the term.”

“But wouldn’t you like it to?” The blonde asked. Dora chewed her licorice carefully.  “You know what Septima says - ‘It is a disadvantage to be so very guarded with the opposite sex, for he may lose interest in her because her intentions have been unclear’ and what’s that other thing? ‘In nine cases out of ten, a woman had better show more affection than she feels’? Now I may not always agree with Septima, but she does make a point.” Amelia thought for a second, “not to mention men, and wizards especially, are entirely stupid creatures that seem to need everything spelled out for them.”

“I suppose, I cannot fault the logic of the woman who can pull awfully accurate predictions from a set of numbers… nor the advice from a most beloved friend.”

Cygnus Black had almost been Minister For Magic. As a higher-up member of the Ministry, he had been recommended for the position several times, but it was never quite what he wanted. Cygnus passed up every opportunity he was offered, and eventually partially retired to become a Historian. The aging wizard had been making promises to spend more time with his wife, Druella, and (then) young children, Narcissa and Sirius, for years. Finally, when Narcissa was six and Sirius eight, the man compiled his savings and bought 12 Grimmauld Place in the Borough of Islington in Wizarding London. He had moved the family in within the month. 

Every Ministry job that he had attained in his career had weighed heavily on his conscience and caused him far too much stress than his kind soul allowed, but after his occupational shift, Cygnus had gradually returned to his former self; a friendly, obliging, tolerant wizard who put his family above all else. 

Druella Black was born a Rosier and had three older sisters and a younger brother: Agathe, Juliette, Louisa, and Antoine. Louisa Rosier married Alexandre Beaumont at twenty-four years of age and had given birth to Amelia Beaumont five years later, making Narcissa Black and Amelia Beaumont both first cousins and good friends, despite the former being two years the latter’s junior. 

The pair often ‘debriefed’ after an event - just as Amelia and Nymphadora had earlier - and this day was no different. After spending the morning with Nymphadora, Amelia made the decision to go and visit her aunt, uncle, and cousins for lunch at Grimmauld Place. 

“Amelia! I was wondering when you’d show!” Narcissa greeted upon opening the front door to her cousin’s knocking. “How was the Apparition?”

“No worse than usual; you know how much I love having my insides squeezed until I think I’m going to vomit and then stumbling like I’ve spent the evening in a pub once I finally make it to wherever I’m going,” the blonde replied derisively as she stepped into the large house. 

“Mon Oncle! Comment vas-tu? Comment va le travail?” Amelia asked, walking into the dining room. Cygnus sat at the head of the table, a copy of the Daily Prophet obscuring the view of his entering family. He folded it in half slowly, and then again, and set it off to his left. 

“Here’s trouble - je vais bien, je ne me suis réveillé qu’il y a une heure! Travailler c’est… travailler, rien à redire, mieux que les emplois du Ministère. Et toi? Tu vas bien? Aimez-vous toujours travailler à Hogwarts?” The man replied, an easy, slightly cocky, smile on his face. 

Cygnus had learned as much French as possible in his pursuit of Druella, and the French side of the family always enjoyed testing his knowledge when they saw him. He usually passed with flying colours, a testament to his devotion to his wife. Narcissa and Sirius had grown up with French spoken by both of their parents, and Druella had tutored both of her children herself when they were young and had even advocated for the pair to go to Beauxbatons for schooling, but Cygnus’ position at the Ministry and their permanent residence in England meant that such an educational choice would be inconvenient for everyone involved. 

“Problème? Où? Tu ne vous sûrement pas dire moi, mon Oncle bien-aimé? I am well, and yes, I do still love my job at Hogwarts - though it hasn't officially started for this academic year yet; the Welcoming Feast is this evening,” Amelia explained, switching to English as she took her usual seat at the table beside Narcissa. “Where are Tatie Dru and cousin Sirius?” She asked the table, looking between Cygnus and his daughter. 

“Mum’s out,” Narcissa offered, “she was going to Madam Malkin’s for a new set of travelling robes, Flourish and Blotts for some new books, and the Apothecary to restock the cabinet,’ she said, clearly attempting to replicate the itinerary list that she must have been told when Druella left earlier as she counted on her fingers. 

“Sirius is cooking, he’s on lunch duty today.” Cygnus supplied.

“Ooo… Qu’est-ce qu’il y’a au menu?” 

“I think he’s making shepherd's pie… OI SIRIUS!” Narcissa shouted at the door at the far end of the room. 

“What the f— AMELIA!” The curly-headed man exclaimed immediately as he shouldered open the door to see what his sister wanted. 

“Sirius!” Amelia stood from her chair and met her male cousin in the middle as they embraced in a short but warm hug. “Nice apron,” she chuckled, glancing over Sirius’ frilled, baby pink-hued apron.

“Thanks, cuz,” he winked, “it’s mum’s, but I know I rock it better than she does,” he said, kicking up his foot and smiling over his shoulder as he turned and went back into the kitchen. Amelia took her seat again as he exited. 

“God, even at twenty-eight he’s such a child,” Narcissa muttered into her hands. 

“Chère famille, je suis à la maison!” A feminine voice penetrated the house as the heavy front door once again opened and shut. 

“Wait, he danced how many dances with Dora?” Druella asked, about ten minutes after she unpacked the bags of shopping she had stowed away in her coat using the Reducio charm. Amelia, Narcissa, and Druella were sat around a small table on the second floor’s balcony, their deck chairs charmed to be both warm and comfortable on the slightly chilly first day of Autumn. 

“At least six entire songs by themselves and four group dances,” Amelia gossiped with her family.

“Upon my word! Well, that’s lovely!” Amelia’s aunt paused, “But, it may all come to nothing, you know - they’re going to be coworkers by this evening, and dancing with someone for the night doesn’t always have ‘forever’ implications,” she reasoned.

“I know, Tatie, but I have a good feeling!”

“You haven’t told Mama the best part yet,” Narcissa interjected, her hand covering her mouth as she chuckled to herself. Amelia mirrored her cousin and began laughing behind her palm too. 

“What haven’t you told me, Amelie, am I missing a part of the story?” Druella questioned, raising an eyebrow and looking between both younger women. She waited until the laughter died down a little bit more before pursing her lips together exasperatedly. 

“Severus Snape was there, he’s going to be Hogwarts’ new Potions Master and Head of Slytherin House,” Amelia explained.

“Oh, the Severus Snape? I don’t understand why that’s so funny…”

“Have you met him, Tatie?” 

“I haven’t, but I know he’s awfully powerful,” Druella said, trying to piece together what could possibly be funny about the wizard being a Hogwarts Professor. 

“You could’ve stopped after ‘awful’,” Amelia supplied, almost snorting at the end of the sentence.

“He’s absolutely terrible,Mama! A right git, honestly,” Narcissa added.

“What did he do so wrong in one night…” The eldest witch asked, still glancing between the two laughing women. 

“He said Amelia ‘wasn’t attractive enough’ to dance with! Can you believe the nerve of him!” 

Amelia blushed a little. She thought it was lovely that people kept affirming her appearance in defense of Severus Snape. 

“Oh, he is a git! Did you give him a right thrashing after? Surely our Amelie broke his nose for saying such a terrible thing?”

“I did not,” Amelia smiled, “I wanted to, but it would’ve caused a whole scene and you know I’m not like that, especially not in the Hogwarts castle during a ball.”

“You’d better not pay that one much mind, Amelie, he’s shown his true colours faster than you could have asked for and now you know that such a wizard is not worth the time to befriend,” Druella advised. 

“Well, you would think so, but Remus Lupin is his best friend. Lovely, sweet, charming Remus Lupin is his best friend.”

“Perhaps Remus sees through whatever facade Severus Snape is presenting. Perhaps he’s a very friendly man who was simply uncomfortable in the presence of others and reacted badly.” Narcissa’s mother supplied, defending the wizard’s character. 

“I also heard from Septima Vector that he barely even engaged in small talk with Minerva. If he was such a lovely person, he surely would have chatted with her longer.” Amelia paused as she considered more of the evening, “Almost everyone I have discussed the man with has said that he is eaten up with pride - perhaps he thought her too simple for whatever superiorities he thinks himself to bear. Though, Dora did note at one point this morning that Severus is supposedly well loved by his intimate acquaintances - she said, verbatim, that the man is ‘remarkably agreeable’ to his friends.” 

“So what if he didn’t speak long with Minerva? I care that he didn’t dance with our Amelie!” Druella corrected emphatically. 

“He will, another time,” Narcissa interjected rather ominously. “But, I would not accept the invitation from a wizard of such character.” 

“Trust me, Cissa, I can safely promise that I will never dance with him.” 

“He might be a proud wizard, but that pride does not offend me the same way that the general kind of pride does. He has an excuse for being prideful. He’s a handsome, well-bred, rich wizard with everything in his favour. He should think highly of himself, and perhaps I might express that he has a right to be as proud as it seems he is.” 

“I could forgive his pride,” Amelia said, “if he had not mortified mine.”