Meraki

Chapter 7: Sonder

Avior blinks with the eyes that she now knows are exactly like those of a Death Eater and brother, a sinner and yet, in ways that only Lorelei seems to know of, also a saint.

“That’s a long letter.” Theodore drops onto the free seat beside her, vacant because of the distance everyone other than her friends are keeping from her.

“Auntie replied,” she says, folding the letter back up for him to read later and pushing it into her pocket. “Where were you?” Avior then asks, the slightest hint of concern to her question, but curiosity is overpowering.

“Library,” he responds airily, a casual shrug added to it.

“Why? Is your head okay?”

“Pardon me?” Theodore tilts his head slightly, somewhat miffed.

“You, Theodore Nott, went to the library first thing in the morning, even before breakfast,” she shakes her head, “meaning you are not okay.”

Juliette is listening in, and a soft laugh escapes her.

“What a gentle-woman you are, Lune,” she comments. Avior turns sharply to face her. “As if you wouldn’t be shocked.”

“It is a surprise, alright,” says Theodore before Juliette can agree with her. He rubs his chest and adds, “Though I must say I am a little offended and hurt, Avior Lupin-Black.” She shrugs lightheartedly.

“Ya can’t blame me.”
At that, he pauses and then shrugs, seemingly agreeing.

“The hair suits you, have I said that?” He switches the topic smoothly as he leans forward to pour himself some water. Her cheeks flush with heat and colour. For some odd reason, the compliment irks her in the slightest although it isn’t the first time; he has said it, last night. But it shouldn’t suit her, it shouldn’t have been necessary as a distraction.

“How?” She asks, the single word swift and honed to cut through the air.

“Anger fits you as well,” he continues instead of answering, then taking a large sip of water. That doesn’t bother her as much because she knows she usually has a short temper, but his comment also flies in one ear and out the next immediately. Distraction comes as she meets two eyes so dark they seem black from the distance between her table and his.
Arlo Maurer, a Gryffindor a year below her. His parents work for the Ministry, she knows that much. Hair dark to match his gaze, to match hers. He breaks eye contact seconds later when his friend next to him nudges his side. Avior’s eyes follow his to look at his friend; Damian Madden. She knows that Damian and Evander Pince are best friends, a true Gryffindor and Ravenclaw duo. However, she isn’t quite sure where Arlo comes in. Arlo and Damian are two opposite ends of a spectrum. One always cold and quiet with dark hair and dark eyes, the other practically bouncing with energy with sunlit eyes and light brown hair. While Damian and Evander, who actually goes by Slade she has heard, are two peas in a pod. They match each other’s energy flawlessly, it is like dealing with identical twins minus the mirrored looks.

“Here,” Avior pulls the letter out again and places it down on her still empty place, “you can both read it…” She gets up out of her seat between Theodore and Juliette, her eyes remaining focused on the two younger students.

“But don’t—” “Crinkle it,” they finish her sentence in unison, Juliette smiling softly. They know that she saves everything; letters, candy wrappings, packaging, rocks, and so on. Anything that she considers important or to contain a memory, Avior keeps. She huffs out a breath at the reminder of how well they both know her, and sets off towards the two Gryffindors.

“She is coming this way,” Damian whispers, but one might argue if it counts as whispering when she can hear it loud and clear. “Arlo, she’s co— Hey!” He greets her cheerily, while Arlo turns to face her.
Avior keeps silent for what feels like a full minute, attempting to assess their position towards her and the whole escaped mass murderer thing. As Damian appears not to care about it at all, Arlo seems as indifferent as ever. But they are in the same year and House as a certain Ron Weasley, and she isn’t sure whether his convincing Harry that she is an awful person extends to their roommates or not. Yet Damian does not seem like the person to listen to that anyway. He is more busy trailing after the two friends Alina Fortescue and Cardan Puddifoot with Slade.

“Can I help ya?” She snaps out of it, directing her question at Arlo, blatantly ignoring Damian’s greeting. He wouldn’t hurt a fly, anyone can see that. Her dismissing him doesn’t even seem to deter him from trying again.

“If you’d like to tutor me, yes,” he nods, “I’ve heard you’re quite the genius, and I’m not. I need the help desperately and—”

“Your friend was staring at me,” she interrupts him rudely, her eyes still glued to Arlo’s.

“Don’t mind him,” Damian answers again. The other boy’s silence is starting to irritate her. “He is just a tad bit shy!”

Avior glares down at Arlo, itching to grab her wand. “I will shut your eyes permanently so you can’t use them the same way you can’t seem to speak to me.”

The lack of reaction does nothing but aggravate her. So much so that she almost doesn’t care that she is standing in a hall full of students and staff having breakfast. Damian has gone quiet too, subtly poking his friend in the back to say something.

“If ya can’t speak to me, don’t look at me,” she spits, then finally looks at Damian. He straightens in his spot, looking ready to take a scolding.

“Mondays, after dinner, come to the library after Christmas holidays. Bring textbooks of whichever class ya need help in. D’accord?”

“D’cor’, whatever that means,” Damian salutes. Once she turns around and stalks off, he sighs heavily.

“Man,” he says, “she’s a little scary. Others are right to be afraid.”

“They are afraid because they think she has something to do with Sirius Black,” Arlo speaks up, shaking his head.

“But she technically does,” Damian argues, “they are father and daughter, daughter and father. Plus, she is scary like her whole family. They all seem like they could curse you if you breathe wrong.”

“Damian,” he warns him.

Theodore looks relatively puzzled when Avior sits back down, the letter folded and on her plate once more. She pockets it again.

“Alright my Death Eater child…” “Says you.” “What did those two poor Gryffindors do to ruin your mood?”

“Stare,” she grumbles, which earns her a sigh from her older sister.

“Non,” Avior goes on before she grants her the chance to say a single word, “I’m not in the mood for a Prefect talk right now, Julie. I’m sick of these kids staring.”

“You’re just beautiful,” Theodore butts in, “and a little scary looking— Not in a bad way!” He raises his hands in defense when she glares his way. “I’m saying… the short hair emphasises it when you look at people like that.”

“He’s right,” Graham leans in from beside Juliette, having been listening in all along. “I heard a second year crying in the lavatory the other day. Something about having bumped into you.”

“I didn’t even do anything,” she is quick to defend herself through her indignation. “My point exactly,” he says, “you scared him by doing nothing. It’s the Black effect, like Jules’s mother said.”

“You read the letter, too?” Avior raises an eyebrow and he shrugs innocently. “It was right there…”

———

“Ivy, darling.”
Remus looks worn out, like he could drop and fall asleep at any moment. The comfort of his bed does nothing to drain his body of the exhaustion from an upcoming transformation. Avior skipping her classes to stay with him does, ever so slightly. She had gone back to her dormitory after breakfast to take two pins to keep her hair out of her face, before she convinced Theodore to go to class without her. When she ran into Irene on her way, there was a prolonged silent staring to pass between them, until Irene left.

“I know why you did it,” says Remus, while she closes the door gently, her back turned on him. His softened gaze lingers on the way the very ends of her locks of onyx don’t reach her shoulders. “Who says I did it?”

“You ought to realise that I have never once known anyone better than you, my sweet girl.”
His own words pull on his heartstrings until the muscle aches sharply. She can almost feel the hidden truth behind that statement, the lingering of the end that suggests there is more to it.

“Come here.” He pushes himself upright, to lean his back against the headboard of his bed. The hesitation in her turning to face him tugs a tad harder. Avior slowly makes her way towards him and takes place on his bed, in front of him.

“There has not been a day where I don’t look back at how much you have grown, or the day you were born, when you could still fit in one hand of mine.” That one hand now lifts to turn her head his way, to lay on her cheek and it makes her look smaller once more. “It was truly the best day of my life.”
He studies the conflict in her eyes, their hardness and yet the flicker of emotion behind them, the tears he can tell are being held back. But she still is not looking at him, staring right through him. Evidently lost in her own thoughts, though he knows she is listening.

“You are resilient, you are strong, you are unapologetically you,” Remus smiles, creating crinkles in the corners of his eyes, just like Avior’s does. “Although there was no need to cut your hair to prove it, you take all that you were born into and make it yours.”

“Papa,” she speaks, and he lets out a small breath. His thumb is on her cheekbone, a cut so sharp to resemble the family lacking light. Remus lowers it to take her hand instead. Her voice tears through the silence like knife did hair. “You knew Regulus Black?”
It is a statement more than a question. Her gaze lifts to study his reaction intently. Nothing happens more than a simple nod.

“Yes, everyone knew him.”

“You never told me that I have his eyes.” Still no reaction. With the short hair, dissimilar eyes, and the hard look in them, she has never looked like Regulus this much, let alone a Black.

Remus smiles again, tired. He is so very tired. “It wasn’t something of importance to mention to you. You have beautiful eyes, they resemble you perfectly.”

“It is of importance though, Papa. What parts of me look like you?”
The hardness disappears at once, and suddenly her eyes are filled to the brim with tears. There is a desperation to her question that rips his heart right in two. Her hand has tightened around his scarred one, clutching it like a lifeline. His smile disappears and her bottom lip threatens to tremble.

“So much, Ivy, you don’t even know,” he says quietly as he gives her hand a short squeeze. “Your right eye,” he starts with the most obvious one, “that is mine. The green.” Avior waits with bated breath to be told about the ways in which she is good and light.

“I must take half of the credit for your freckles. Though I will selfishly take full credit for your height; I know you will grow taller. Your love for reading. This very specific way you smile, Lorelei told me it comes from me. Your dimples.”
Remus pulls her into his chest, her ear pressing against the thrum of his heartbeat.
That last one might be a lighthearted lie; yes, Remus has them too, but so does Sirius in his own kind. When he laughed or smiled in a particular manner, they were on display for him to love and kiss.

“The way you frown when you are concentrating on your reading or writing, I do that as well. Part of your accent. Your heart beats like mine too, do you hear it? And in a way, your eyes both look like mine.”
The tears have dissolved and her hand is no longer squeezing. Avior nods, and with that nod she promises to try to have his heart. She knows all the ways she isn’t like him, all the ways she is far worse than him. He is a gentle soul, a warm spring day with a soft breeze, the embrace of a cosy blanket during the much colder days of winter. While she is a bone-chilling fire, a fiery storm, she is the biting cold outside on those winter days, and the unexpected downpour of rain in the spring. She could never be a much needed sprinkle during heat, or a sunshine when it’s freezing. She is always too much, always coming across too strong.

———

“Would glasses look good on me?”

Theodore responds absentmindedly as he focuses on finishing writing his sentence of his essay on goblin rebellions, “Just lovely.”

“That sounded sarcastic,” she sighs, staring up at the scratch in one of his bed’s posts, laying on her back. It looks like the type of scratch a claw would make, so she takes it to be a sign; maybe Lorelei was right about her suggestion of having a miniature dragon for a pet.

“I’ll be back,” says Avior and she pushes herself up to slide off of his bed. Theodore hums in acknowledgment.

She ought to try Remus’s reading glasses once, to test out the feeling in case she might one day need them too, Avior thinks to herself while stepping through the corridor, towards her own dormitory. Perhaps just for the fun of it. What she refuses to recognise is the little voice in her head telling her that she wants to try his glasses to see if she looks any more like him with them on.

The fourth year girls dormitory is entirely empty aside from one soul. Avior immediately looks over to Eliana, who is sitting on her bed with a book on her lap.

“Hi,” Eliana says, a voice so calm and serene, shifting her attention from her book to her roommate. Nowadays when the voices of people that aren’t her friends or family speak to her, they don’t sound as soothing as Eliana’s, instead more so tainted with the intent to insult and hurt.

“Hi,” she greets her, hesitant when Eliana starts to close her book now.

“Are you okay?”
To be caught off guard by that question is an understatement. In these years of being roommates, they have never once spoken a word to each other, at least not outside of classes, but even then that rarely happened. Avior doesn’t respond for several long seconds after, until she honestly starts to believe that she imagined it.

“Ouais…” She finally says, clearing her throat. “I am… Are you?”

Eliana nods. “Yes. I like your hair.” She doesn’t smile, nor does she sugarcoat the compliment. Eliana continues to look at her with a look of indifference, her eyes occasionally flitting from one feature to the next. From their first year, both girls quickly realised the physical similarities between them, even if they are worlds different at the same time. Eliana is of Persian descent. Avior is French, English and Welsh. They are both forgotten in their dorm, but not outside of it. The sharpness of their features have something so alike, but starkly different.

“Thank you,” Avior does smile, it points out her subtle dimples, “I like yours. We kind of look alike, don’t ya think?”

The already thinning layer of ice between them is broken and Eliana chuckles amusedly. “We do,” she says, “we are one in the same, huh?”

Right then, Avior realises she might not be as alone in this dorm as she thought she was, there can be one friend in here for her. It is more than she believed to be possible.

Silence befalls them, but this one is different than usual. It is no silence that speaks of a lack of friendship or a matter of dislike. This silence is like a mutual understanding that they are both not alone.

Avior finds her book on dragons and smiles on the way back to Theodore’s dorm, words about her new friend on the tip of her tongue, ready to be spilled to him. The corners of her mouth drop into a scowl upon finding him talking to Everett, right after which she remembers his claiming to be better with Theodore than she is.

“Piss off,” she abruptly cuts off their conversation, her fire aimed at Everett only. Both boys look up from their conversation, one confused and the other unimpressed. A flick of her wrist is enough to push Everett over and off of where he is sitting on his own bed. “Hey—! You can do wandless magic?”

“You forget she’s a Black, mate. All powerful and all… What is going on between you two?” Theodore asks suspiciously while Everett scrambles to get back onto his feet.

“He is a prick is all,” she snaps, only taking a couple fierce strides to reach her best friend and shield him from the friendship of a bully. Theodore glances between the two, his confusion not yet cleared up.

“What happened?” He asks with a tone that demands an answer.

“Said some things about Sirius Black,” she answers swiftly, nonchalantly. It causes Theodore to glare at Everett and she can’t contain a smug smile.

“Nothing bad,” he defends himself, but Avior is quick to deny him. “‘At least my father wasn’t a traitor’,” she mocks him, her voice going an octave higher, making him scowl in return. “I don’t sound like that.”

“Yes you do,” she shrugs and turns to sit down next to Theodore on his bed. He has clearly already finished his essay, as it is now out of sight, probably in his bag. The only sound that follows is the sound of her book being dropped onto the bed in between them and then the swish of pages being flipped. Avior pauses at the feeling of being stared at.

She looks up at Everett. “Move along now.”

“This is my dormitory,” he argues with acid on his tongue.

“And I don’t care,” she retorts. “I’m a Black and you’re what? Just a Rosier?” The French in her voice makes an extra appearance upon pronouncing his last name. Everett’s face contorts with frustration for once so openly displayed, yet he finally starts to make his way towards the door.

“As long as you two aren’t snogging when I come back.”
The door promptly shuts and she is alone with Theodore. With the comment catching her so off guard, she goes beet red and she feels a weird tingling in her stomach like wings fluttering. It is not a feeling she is wholly unfamiliar with.

Avior scrambles for something to say and, “Auntie gave me the idea to get a miniature dragon as a pet.” She quickly continues flipping pages of her book, avoiding eye contact with Theodore and only growing more suspicion by doing so.

“Did he just say—” “Je ne sais pas,” she cuts him off in nervous rambling, “I don’t understand why he would say such things. I mean where does he get the idea from? I’ve never made— I mean, there has never been a moment where— It was just so… out of the blue…”
His hand comes down on hers to stop her from possibly ripping her book apart which he knows she would not be happy about. This show of nerves is not at all like her, and it shouldn’t give him the hope that it does.

“What has gotten you so worked up?” Theodore asks and when she lifts her eyes, she notices his grin.

“Nothing,” the words come out faster and faster, “I simply wanted to show ya some of my favourite dragons, is all.”

He is quick to respond, “Liar.” Theodore gently pulls the book out of her hands and it feels like he just took her lifeline away from her. Her fingers intertwine instantly in an attempt at finding a new one. Theodore scoots forward and closer to her, she can feel her heart skip a beat.

“What are ya d—” “Dare me to kiss you.”
Surely her heart has stopped beating entirely at this point. This feels like a moment of déjà vu, but warped; it started as a game, but that is not what this is at this very moment. And this time around it will be him kissing her. It is a familiar moment and yet so new, it is scary, but a fun kind of scary. These are the moments Avior chases, the ones full of the unknown causing an almost sickening bubbly feeling.

Avior slowly starts to mirror his grin and a beat later, she echoes his words with a twist, “I dare you to kiss me, Teddy.” It happens all too fast and in slow motion at the same time; his hands cup either side of her face and he pulls her in while leaning down himself, until their lips touch in a rather short but nothing short from explosive kiss. The last thing she sees are his eyes which don’t look as dark from up close, and he sees the sparkle he so adores in both green and grey. His lips are softer than she remembers them to be from the last time. Something shifts between them. He lets go and they lean back in utter silence.

“What a moment to initiate a game of Truth or Dare,” she breathes, pulling her hands back from his knees where they had subconsciously landed to keep herself steady. She starts to toy with the hem of her skirt, fighting a giddy smile. That kiss was much better than the first. This time it lasted a moment longer, enough for her to still feel the touch of his lips on her own.

“That wasn’t a game to me, Ava, I hope you know that,” he says so casually as if did not just basically confess something bigger than what they either have ever thought of saying.

“Non? What was it then? How many girls do you kiss as not a game?” asks Avior with the answer already in the back of her mind.

He rolls his eyes. “I don’t kiss other girls. I only like one and it’s you.”

Her eyebrows shoot up at the bold and unexpected admission. He just said it word for word. Nevertheless, she refuses to take it for what she wants it to be.

“When you say you like me, you mean—” “Merlin, how can you be so smart and yet so thick? I like you, Avior, I like you as a best friend, but I like you as more than that as well.”

“And when you say ‘more than that’, are you saying it like—”

“Bloody hell,” Theodore mutters, releasing a deep sigh, but a chuckle follows. “You really are an idiot. Ava, I am saying it like I want us to be us. I want us to be a couple. There! Do you get it now?”

“Are you asking me to be your girlfriend?” She finally asks, even though there was no question on his part. The third time’s the charm. He opens his mouth, pauses, closes it again, and then finally nods, “I mean… Yes. I am.”

“I’ll think about it,” she says promptly, smiling charmingly. This time his jaw falls slack when she slides off of his bed and starts in the direction of the door. “What— Where are you going?! What does that even mean?!”

He does not receive an answer or response altogether, but instead she blows him an overdramatic kiss and slams the door shut behind her. Once out of his sight and standing on the other side of the door, she lets out a deep breath. And then she starts to run. Avior runs through the corridor and through the common room to exit it. She keeps running; up the stairs, through more corridors, up more stairs. She passes portraits and enchanted armours. A big smile is plastered across her face as she runs past students returning to their common rooms before curfew, following the ones that wear red and gold ties.

“Elle!” She doesn’t respond to it at first, never having been called that name before until one half of a set of twins grabs her wrist and pulls her to a prompt halt.

“Where are you rushing off to?” Fred Weasley asks. “And why are you smiling so creepy?” George, his hand still wrapped around her wrist, adds.

“Get me into your common room? I need to see Julie,” she says, slightly out of breath.

“Right,” George nods, “act like a Gryffindor.” He lets go of her wrist and she salutes him with a just as creepy grin. Everything goes quite well while following the twins towards the portrait of the Fat Lady, besides the odd look thrown her way here and there.

Until a Gryffindor who deems himself brave enough to speak up tries to stop her. “You’re not allowed into our common room!” The boy frowns angrily, blocking her way.

“And who are you?” Avior responds along with an arrogant undertone that speaks of the superiority she clearly believes she has over him. “Move aside, chéri.” She shoulders past him aggressively. Fred and George only stood and watched, aware of her capability to handle the situation on her own.

“Nice,” says Fred. “Scare ‘em all, why don’t you?” George finishes with an amused smirk. “Shut up and keep walking,” she rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, Georgie, shut up.”
They reach the portrait at last and they pull her inside quickly after saying the password before the Lady notices her Slytherin uniform and complains about it.

“Merci!” Avior exclaims and she is off again, before either twin can reply or ask a single more question.

“What a girl, huh, Georgie?” Fred pokes his brother’s side with his elbow, watching the end of her robes disappear around the corner.

Knocking rapidly on the door she knows leads to her sister’s dorm, Angelina Johnson opens it. She has more of a disliking towards the younger girl in front of her because of their Quidditch rivalry rather than her connection to Sirius Black. “Julie!” Avior huffs out, spotting the familiar curls just past Angelina’s shoulder.

“Salut, Johnson,” she greets her mindlessly, meanwhile she is already pushing by her to come in.

“Hey!” Juliette smiles. It makes the rest of the room dim in her presence. “We need to talk,” says Avior earnestly, with eyes wide enough to concern Juliette into hurrying towards her sister. “Ça va? What’s wrong?”

“Teddy asked me to be his girlfriend!” The Slytherin blurts out, throwing her arms up in her excitement, not paying an ounce of attention to the uninvited ears listening in. “He kissed me and then asked me— Well, he didn’t really ask, but kind of!”

“What?!” Juliette shrieks, her smile returning in an instant. “And? What did you say?!”

“I said I’d think about it.” Avior grins wickedly. Juliette raises her eyebrows, but on top of that, she doesn’t even seem surprised. “Of course,” she mumbles, shaking her head. “And why did you do that?”

Avior pauses before answering; she doesn’t know why she did either. So she settles on shrugging and says, “Just because. Have to keep him on his toes, no? Besides, I wanted to tell you first.”

“You came to tell me before even giving him an answer,” Juliette concludes and Avior nods. “That sounds about right,” she says.

“Bien, you are Avior Lupin-Black after all.”
In the corner of her eye, Juliette sees her roommates start whispering together, but Avior doesn’t seem to notice, frowning in her own thoughts.

“I think I’ll make him wait until tomorrow at least,” she decides eventually and then throws her arms around Juliette. “Bonne nuit,” she kisses her cheek and releases her from the quick embrace, “I will keep ya updated!”

Juliette only gets to call a ‘Goodnight’ after her before she is gone again, stalking out of her dormitory and into the common room. Although she loves the Slytherin one, she prefers the windows here much more. Avior doesn’t much enjoy staring out into the depths of the Black Lake, it is unsettling.
At one particular table sit a few familiar faces. Damian is amongst them, but Avior’s face sours after seeing Ron next to him. She quickly turns around, not noticing Arlo on Damian’s other side, his eyes following her yet again. He isn’t the only one though. A handful of Gryffindors working on homework or playing a round of Wizard’s Chess have noticed her presence as well, only a few days after another Black had attempted to break into this very room.

That Full Moon night she spends in the Shrieking Shack again, sitting with the werewolf that she adores. She tells him about loving the Gryffindor common room and how she secretly wishes that she could have been in the same House as him, but that she loves being a Slytherin at the same time. It brought her even closer to Theodore, she tells him, but she leaves out just how close.

———

After not quite getting a proper night’s rest, Avior makes sure to return to her common room early and get ready before Theodore wakes up. She leaves a small note on Eliana’s nightstand for her to tell Theodore not to wait on her when she sees him in the common room. It is unusual for the girl that loves to sleep and will curse anyone that wakes her up to be ready and out of the common room with a smile. Today simply feels different.

Firstly, she makes a quick trip to the kitchens for something small to eat— her hunger is starting to take over her every thought, it makes her stomach ache like it often does. However, it doesn’t stay at ‘quick’ when she spends at least fifteen minutes talking to Mincy the elf about Theodore.

“A boyfriend?” Mincy asks with large glittering blue eyes, always so interested in the young witch’s stories. “If I say yes,” Avior giggles fondly.

After that, she is off to Hagrid’s for an actual short visit. Because thirdly, her feet bring her to the Hospital Wing, and she greets Pomfrey a little too happy for how early it is.

“Good morning, dear, what is it that has gotten you so delighted at this hour of the day?” Pomfrey asks curiously, though she is resisting the urge to feel for the girl’s forehead and make sure that she hasn’t caught an odd sickness that has her behaving in a way rather unusual for her.

“I will have a boyfriend soon, Poppy, that is all!”