Chapter 2
Sirius comes to with Clark’s voice filtering through her brain.
“-say to her. You must have said something.”
“No!” Another voice says, unfamiliar and harangued. Sirius blinks her eyes open, and only then does she recognize it.
Remus.
The ball.
The future.
Sirius moves to sit upright, but a hand comes up to her shoulder and firmly pushes her back down.
“Slow, Sirius,” Clark says, “How much do you remember from tonight?”
Someone has moved her onto a bed, Sirius realizes. Clark leans over one side of her, with the neutral expression of a practiced nurse.
Remus anxiously hovers over the other side of the bed. Sirius’s eyes find hers, and they’re glitterier than she remembers.
“I can remember everything,” she says, more to herself than anyone else in the room.
“Can I ask if there was a certain event or— ah, impetus? For this, today?”
“I told you, I didn’t say anything!” Remus bursts out.
Sirius turns back to look at Clark, who hasn’t acknowledged Remus or her protests, and is instead raising an eyebrow at Sirius.
“No,” Sirius says firmly, “It was just a long day, lots of um, action.”
“Lots of um action,” Clark repeats flatly.
“Yes, there was a lot happening today,” Sirius says, frustrated. It’s not like she’s lying, there was a lot happening today. Remus revealing that she was a time-traveler was just the straw that broke the camel’s back.
“If you say so, My Lady,” Clark says. “Are you alright moving back to your room?”
Remus scoffs. “Well, it’s not like she can sleep here.”
“She will sleep right here if she very well needs to!”
Sirius lifts herself up to one elbow. “Where is ‘here’?”
“My room?” Remus says, “The place you passed out?”
“I can go back,” Sirius says, already moving to get up and off the bed.
“Thanks,” Remus says flatly.
Clark insists on walking Sirius all the way back to her room, even though Sirius vehemently protests and insists that she’s fine— he always tended to get even more worked up than Walburga did about her health. When she’s finally alone, back in her room, she exhales deep. Her mind feels cloudy and over-full, like the sky before a thunderstorm, and she barely remembers to kick off her shoes before collapsing into bed.
This is ridiculous.
This is actually insane. Whoever designed the dining table for Black Manor should be banned from the table-making industry for life. Because why are she and Remus sitting 15 feet apart during breakfast?.
Across the table, Remus is mumbling something.
“What?” Sirius enunciates.
“Can I please get more coffee?” Remus says, matching Sirius’s pitch. Sirius gestures at one of the footmen, and they walk over and refill Remus’s cup.
“So I just wanted to let you know,” Sirius says, projecting, “We do lunch at 12, usually— yesterday was an exception for the ball. And we take tea at four o’clock, and then dinner at around 8.”
Remus nods, once. “Thanks,” she enunciates from across the table. Then she goes back to eating her toast with the most atrocious table manners she’s ever seen. With her hands. There’s butter on her fingers. And crumbs. What is she going to do about that? Lick them? And she’s— oh god, she’s actually licking a crumb off her littlest finger. And now she’s glaring across the table like Sirius is doing something wrong by observing her.
Sirius slouches down minutely in her chair, feeling heat creep up into her cheeks and feeling even more embarrassed for it.
This is ridiculous, and she’s already counting down the days until Remus leaves.
“This is such bullshit.”
Lily snorts from behind her, and Remus hears her rustling through the map for the thousandth time.
“I’m not joking. Drawing room? Parlour? Foyer? Lounge? Aren’t all of these just synonyms for ‘living room’?”
“I’m not the architect Remus, I didn’t design this place.”
Remus rolls her eyes. “Whatever. It’s pathetic.”
“Yeah, great,” Lily goes back to staring at the map. “By the way, if any of your eat-the-rich bullshit affects this paper, I’ll kill you.”
“It’s not bullshit!” Remus protests, leaning back and squinting at the paintings on the wall. “Who needs 4 living rooms? Literally who?”
“Rich people from the 1700s maybe?” Lily says, looking up and nodding at one of the doorways behind Remus. “The visitor center’s back there, I want to see if they have more resources”
Remus sighs exasperatedly. “Getting an eighty-percent on a paper could be good for you, you know,” she calls after Lily. “Build your character or something!”
“I’d rather shoot myself!” Lily calls back, already disappearing down the hallway and forcing Remus to run to catch up to her.
Remus stares at the door at the end of the hallway. The last time she was here, there was a plaque that said ‘visitor center’ across the middle of it, and Lily had placed her hand in the middle of the sign and shoved it open, and she’d said “Oh, let’s take some of these pamphlets back with us,” and Remus had laughed in her fucking face for being such a fucking swot, and—
Remus suddenly feels a deep ache for Lily, at even the idea that she may never get to see her again. She closes her eyes and sees her red hair reflecting the light from the skylights and wonders how anyone could consider time travel impossible. Her memories of the future— her past, the future— are as solid as the door in front of her. She’s there in every way but physically. Why can’t she just go back?
“My lady.”
Remus turns, suddenly, startled out of her reverie. The butler is looking back at her— Sirius has referred to him as Clark, on multiple occasions.
“Um,” Remus replies smartly. “Hi.”
Clark arches one eyebrow at her. “Hi,” he says. “You have a visitor.”
“Oh, get Sirius—”
“Lady Black is out. Lady Fortescue is here for you.”
“Lady Forte— Alice?” Remus asks, squinting in confusion.
“Lady Alice Fortescue, yes,” Clark says, looking slightly miffed. “She hosted your first ball here, My Lady. If you recall.”
These people and their goddamn balls!
“Very well,” Remus says, then winces slightly, because she’s definitely picked that up over the past few days.
“If you’ll follow me.”
Very well. If you’ll follow me. Remus wants to kill herself.
“Remus!” Alice beams, when they finally make their way to the drawing room, which Remus has learned is the special specific living room for welcoming guests who have just arrived. When the guests have been appropriately welcomed, they are taken to the parlour.
“Hi Alice,” Remus smiles. “You can sit down, you know.”
She nods at the sofa next to her.
“Oh, of course— I was just admiring the art they have on the walls. You are so lucky to be staying here, you know. Some of these pieces are from the 1200s!”
Remus swallows. “Yeah, they’re really beautiful.”
“Anyways,” Alice says, turning back to her. “I just wanted to drop by. I know it's your first season— well, both of your first seasons, but Sirius has three cousins, she’s no stranger to this— and I know you’re from out of town, so I just wanted to…”
She trails off, scrutinizing Remus’s expression, and something about it must look stand-offish, because she quickly backtracks. “Of course, maybe it was presumptuous of me to— maybe you are very prepared, in which case, I’m sorry for assuming, but—”
“No!” Remus says quickly, trying to school her resting bitch face into something more pleasant. “No, you’re right, I have no idea what I’m doing. I actually didn’t even know that the season was happening when I arrived.”
Alice’s eyebrows fly up. “Oh, well, I would never have guessed that. I just thought you disliked people.”
“That too,” Remus shifts uncomfortably, trying to figure out how to explain any part of this to Alice without revealing the entire unbelievable truth. “We don’t really hear a lot about the seasons from where I’m from.”
“And you’re from…”
“Edinburgh,” Remus says immediately, falling back on the lie.
“Okay,” Alice nods. “It’s not really that complicated, right? The season is where you find your husband. You go to balls, talk to the men, maybe dance with them. If a man likes you well enough, he will call on you in the next few days. Then he may court you, attend balls with you, and if the union seems agreeable enough to both families, you will get married.”
“Okay,” Remus says slowly, frowning at a scratch on the table. “So— what about me? Or you?”
“What about us?”
“Like, it kind of just seems like all the decisions are being made by the men,” Remus says. “They’re the ones calling and courting and proposing, right? Do the women get a say in any of it?”
Alice laughs, a tinkly sound, like spoons clinking against glasses. “This is how I know you are truly a newcomer. Remus, the women are the marionettes behind the entire season.”
Remus blinks, and Alice laughs again. “Ask Sirius to tell you about her cousins’ proposals. Druella Black took absolutely no chances with her daughters’ matches. Especially not after what happened with Andromeda…” Alice’s eyes light up. “But you don’t know any of that, do you? There is so much to catch you up on. Perhaps we should call for tea?”
“Um,” Remus nods, jerkily. “Yeah, yeah—”
“I’ll do it,” Alice says, happily. “I’ve been here so many times, and I’m the one who asked, anyways.” She walks to the back of the room and Remus closes her eyes for a second, relief washing over her. She has no idea what ‘calling for tea’ entails.
“Okay,” Alice says, when she gets back. “Sirius has three cousins— Andromeda, Bellatrix, and Narcissa.”
“So the astronomy stuff is like—”
“It’s a plague that stretches back generations,” Alice confirms. “Sirius’s middle name is Orion. Her brother’s name is Regulus Arcturus. Anyways. Druella— that’s Sirius’s aunt— had all these big plans about how each of her daughters was going to marry a rank higher than the last. They were only Barons, so there was quite a bit of room for upward movement. So her eldest, Andromeda— she had a Viscount all picked out for her at the start of the season, but for the most part she was hands-off. That was her mistake. People started noticing that Andy was wandering off, going missing during balls and such, but Druella paid no mind, she just assumed that she was seducing the Viscount or some such nonsense. Wait, hang on—”
Alice pauses to grin at someone behind Remus. “Clark! Thank you so much.”
Clark walks up to them and sets a tea tray down at the table in front of them. “I hope you find everything alright my lady.”
“Honestly,” Alice giggles, before turning to Remus. “I’ve been coming up here for tea since I could walk,” she explains. “I almost prefer this— our cook wouldn’t do a Battenberg unless we were hosting the queen.”
“Obviously, you should come here more often,” Clark says, lightly. “I know Lady Black would love the company and I trust you and Lady Lupin get on well, too.”
“Lady Lupin has been indulging me,” Alice admits. “We’ve been gossipping— but I wouldn’t dare speak such vulgarity in front of a gentleman.”
Clark scoffs. “Well, thank god for the fact that I am not a gentleman! You know, I probably know more about the season than you do, Miss Alice.”
“And what of Druella Black’s three girls?” Alice raises her eyebrows, “Would you happen to know more about them, too?”
“Definitely,” Clark says, and Alice’s eyes light up in interest. But before she can say anything, he cuts her off. “But you know how I am with this family.”
“Please, Clark,” Alice looks up at him imploringly. “We won’t tell anybody, swear it.”
“No names, no pack drill,” Clark says and smiles when Alice rolls her eyes and flops backwards onto the couch in frustration. Remus waits for the door to shut behind him as he leaves the library.
“Can I ask you something?”
Alice sits up. “Of course,” she says, pulling a cup of tea towards her and nodding at Remus to go ahead.
“Clark is— the butler here?”
“Mmm,” Alice nods, mouth full.
“But he’s so… familiar,” Remus says. In all her interactions with the man, he’s been civil, and nothing else— yet with Sirius and Alice, he’s like a beloved uncle.
“Yes, I suppose it’s a little unorthodox,” Alice says, eyes slightly narrowed. “He’s an incredibly good man and my Mama said that he could run the military—”
“Oh, I’m not complaining!” Remus rushes to correct herself. “Or saying that it’s bad or anything. It’s just— nice. That you have a good relationship with him.”
Alice's expression softens. “It is nice, I suppose. Clark came here when he was only twenty. Same year Sirius and I were born. And honestly, the way families like ours work, he probably saw more of us than any of our parents. He’s a bit protective.”
“Yeah,” Remus mutters, thinking about how he had rounded on her when he saw Sirius unconscious the previous night. “I got that.”
“He just takes a little warming up to, is all,” Alice reassures her, somehow sensing that Remus and Clark weren’t exactly on the best of terms. “Anyways, I was telling you about… Andromeda!” Alice hums, trying to remember where she left off in her story.
“Three months into the season,” Alice finally says, “Someone catches her in the halls of some house, and she’s snogging one of the valets! This man had been accompanying some socialite to the balls since the beginning of the season, and Andromeda insisted they had fallen in love. Anyways, both of their reputations were completely tainted. I thought it was quite romantic, but Druella wanted to wash her hands of the whole sordid affair, so she told Andy that she was going to marry her off to one of their cousins in France— but Andy didn’t like that very much, did she? One night, she took her things and just disappeared. Valet was gone too. Sirius got drunk once and told me that they send her letters from all over— Ireland, Italy, even the States! But Druella’s never heard about them since.”
So then when it got time for Bellatrix, Druella was obviously more cautious, coming to the balls and whatnot. Who did she— yes, the Marquis Lestrange, if I remember correctly. Remus,” Alice pauses, to make sure Remus is looking at her, before she continues. “This man was ancient.”
Remus snorts before she can even help it, and Alice’s eyes crinkle in a smile as she continues. “He was so old, I swear, his skin was falling off of his bones. I think a lot of Mamas were eyeing them for their daughters, but the Blacks swooped in first. Whole courtship was only about two weeks long— some people say Druella just bribed his nurse to sit him at the front of the chapel during his afternoon nap. He died about two years later, and his lineage died with him— Bella didn’t have any children so now there’s no title for her either. Sad, really.” Alice shakes her head. “But she’s got boatloads of money and she’s set for life, so you can’t really feel too bad about it all.”
“Honestly, I don’t really get what all the fuss is about titles.”
“Oh, most of us don’t, but the Blacks are always competing over their ranks,” Alice rolls her eyes. “I think Druella would have hung herself if Narcissa hadn’t managed to snag a Duke— but she did. It was impressive, really— she did the same thing Andy did, except instead of getting caught in Malfoy’s arms, she just spread the rumor that they had been spotted together in some kind of… promiscuous position. Of course, then the duke had to marry her to uphold his honor— but I think he actually took a liking to Narcissa as well. They always seem close when they’re out in public.”
Remus nods slowly, while Alice pours out a cup of tea for herself and takes a long sip. “Relationships have always been complicated I guess,” Remus says.
Alice narrows her eyes and dabs at her mouth gently with a napkin. “What do you mean have always been?” She asks.
“Oh—” Remus’s eyes widened. “Nothing! I mean— it was complicated when they were getting married, and it’s complicated now that you and Sirius are getting married—”
“Me and Sirius?” Alice repeats. “Are you planning on staying unmarried forever?”
“I—” Remus feels herself turn red, and fights the urge to shrug, helplessly. “What’s the rush?’’
Alice laughs, but this time, it sounds stilted. “I know things may be different in Edinburgh,” she says, “But without a match, you cannot pass on your lineage, you cannot acquire a title, you cannot—”
“So?” Remus says, slightly irritated. Alice seemed fun— too fun to believe this archaic bullshit about lives starting and ending with a proposal. “I thought only the Blacks cared about title.”
“Yes and no,” Alice says, patiently. “Their title is almost as old as the monarchy itself— it’s like a rare jewel that’s been in their family for centuries. And is it really a crime that the rest of us want diamonds too?”
Remus is having difficulty tracking this metaphor. “Whatever. I just think it’s—”
“Alice!” Sirius’s voice gasps from the door. Remus’s eyes shoot towards her.
“Sirius, I was hoping I could intrude for long enough to see you,” Alice stands up and moves over to Remus’s sofa, leaving the one across from them for Sirius alone.
“Never an intrusion,” Sirius protests, falling onto the couch. “Will you stay for dinner?”
“Oh, I can't, one of my cousins is over,” Alice sighs. “I just wanted to stop by to remind Remus of who I was, and ask the both of you if you were coming to the Prewett’s ball this Friday?”
“Yes,” Sirius says, earnestly, and Remus has to suppress a groan. “I trust you’ll be there.”
“I certainly will, I would never miss a chance to see Molly’s little rat pack,” Alice laughs. “I really must be off now, though, or I’ll be late and Robert will make a terrible fuss.”
“You will stay for dinner next time,” Sirius says firmly.
“Of course,” Alice says, rising to her feet and kissing Sirius on the cheek before heading out. “Bye!” She calls from the door, and Sirius waves at her. She stands silently, until they hear the door to the drawing room and the door to the house open and close.
Then she rounds on Remus.
“Have you lost your mind?” She hisses, glancing furtively around to make sure nobody’s within earshot before swatting Remus on the shoulder.
Remus winces. “Have you?” she hisses back. “Seriously, what’s your problem?”
“You were about to expose yourself in front of Alice, that’s my bloody problem,” Sirius snaps. “‘Uh, do I have to get married?’” She says, in a piss-poor imitation of Remus’s Welsh lilt, “‘Do you really care about title? I think we should all form a coven in the country and only come back to London to vote!’”
“That would be nice,” Remus says, wistfully, imagining a much kinder universe in which she had been transported to a witchy commune in Scotland instead of the fucking London season. “Wait, you can’t vote?” Sirius narrows her eyes. She's shorter than Remus. She looks like she’s about to stomp her feet out of frustration and it’s disarmingly cute. Remus bites back a smile. “It’s okay,” she says soothingly, “Just hang in there till about… 1928? Ish? It’s fun. You get a sticker.”
“I don’t know,” Sirius says, slowly, angrily, “what a sticker is. And I don’t care. What I do care about, is you announcing to every single person who crosses the threshold of this house that you… that you don’t belong to… the now.” As she leans further into Remus’s space, Remus can recognize the same scent that clung to her pillowcases long after Sirius had moved back to her room. Jasmine and amber.
“Do you know what would happen if you told someone else?” Sirius whispers-screams, and she’s getting more animated, eyes wider, gestures bigger. “Not everyone is as equanimous as I am!”
Remus has to work very hard at not bursting out into loud, unrestrained laughter, but the idea of Sirius describing herself as equanimous is literally insane. “You fainted when I told you,” she says instead, completely straight-faced.
“At least I didn’t throw you in the madhouse.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” Remus says. “I mean, I don’t know Alice very well, but she does seem extremely close-minded and bigoted, so—”
“What happens if you stop being a sarcastic cunt for five minutes, will you shrivel up and die?”
Remus has a plethora of sarcastic responses to this, but she doesn’t want to prove Sirius right about anything. “I can be serious,” she says, resolutely.
“Oh, can you? Can you?” Sirius says, in mock surprise. “I was beginning to doubt it, considering that you are quite literally ‘out of your own realm’ right now and all you seem to want to do is crack jokes!”
Remus scoffs. “What do you want me to do?”
“I want you to go back!” Sirius bursts out. And for a second, Remus is afraid Sirius is going to faint again, because she freezes, her eyes open, and unblinking, before turning glassy. But then she starts blinking rapidly, and Remus realizes that it’s something even worse— she’s crying.
When Sirius speaks again, her voice is tight, like she’s trying to control every waver in her speech. She doesn’t look back at Remus. “I’m sorry,” she says, instead. “I shouldn’t have—”
“S’fine,” Remus mumbles. “I get it. For the record, I want to be back too, so.”
They both stand there, for a minute, not looking at each other.
“I have to go change,” Sirius says suddenly, turning on her heel. “Dinner is soon.”
She disappears in a flash, but Remus can still feel her eyes on her. Still smell that goddamn perfume she must douse herself in, to have the scent clinging to the air for so long, after. Remus closes her eyes, presses the heels of her hands to her eye sockets, and it’s like Sirius is still in the room with her right now. Gray eyes, jasmine, amber and all.