one point perspective

a spider web is tangled up with me

and i lost my head

the thought of all the stupid things i'd said

corvus hates leaving for christmas. she always has.

not even just because of herself. obviously, she hated going home. hated being trapped in that house. slowly suffocating inside of it.

but because of evan and barty. she hates the idea of them in their houses. 

they're both the only children in their families, having no one else to share the darkness of home with. 

they don't talk about it, but they all know it's there. 

barty’s father is a general asshole. he yells and he screams and barty hates him, so it makes corvus hate him out of principle. sure, he can be nice when people are around. he hosts bonfires in the summer and he lets them drink whiskey. but behind closed doors, he's cruel.

evan’s father is worse. ev likes his mum. she's really the only reason he still goes home. that, and the fact that he's secretly terrified of what his father would do if he didn't. 

that's the story of both the boys’ lives. corvus knows they don't agree with their parents’ viewpoints. not completely, at least. they just go along with it to save themselves the hurt they know they will be facing if they fight against it. 

evan’s father reminds corvus of walburga. harsh and intimidating and sharp. put together yet rough around the edges. rooms go silent when jacob rosier walks in. people kneel before his feet.

evan has always had it worse out of the two of them. sure, barty has it rough. with a father who doesn't let anything slide. no childlike behavior is permitted in the crouch household.

but evan, he comes home scarred and bleeding and bruised. he walks out that door empty and hollow and broken.

corvus isn't entirely sure what all really happens in that house, just that it's bad. bad enough for evan to shut down completely for at least a couple of days after returning. it takes him a while to relearn that he's safe here. at hogwarts. in the arms of the only people who don't try to rip and tear him apart.

evan and barty are the two most alive people corvus has ever met. going home changes that. she thinks a bit of themselves gets left there each time they go. she thinks that maybe all of their life will drain out in time. that all of it will be left behind in those houses. held hostage within their walls.

she can see it already. the hardness building around their eyes. breaking down the once soft eleven year old boys with kind smiles and excited eyes. 

sometimes, she almost doesn't recognize them. it's almost as if the boys who stutter and blush and get nervous when their hands accidentally touch are gone. 

but they do peek out. when evan is helping corvus with potions homework and his voice becomes soft and patient. 

or when barty flies laps on the pitch with her and reg. body seemingly weightless and light. all of the tension draining out of his shoulders just by being in the air.

it doesn't seem fair that all of the heirs of the noble house of black get to spend christmas with the potters, yet barty and evan have to spend it alone. in the cold and the dark and among the barren ruins of childhood laughter and peace.

truth is, they've never really had a real childhood. not any of them. they were thrown into the mess of blood supremacy and war too young to still be considered children. 

they never got kisses goodnight or bedtime stories or family cuddles. they got lectures and tears and unforgivable curses.

corvus used to think that magic was a gift. 

after experiencing more of the life around her, she's starting to think that it may really just be a curse.

“owl me if you need anything.” corvus insists, holding tightly onto evan’s shirt, face buried in his neck.

“i will, cor.” he replies, running his hands gently up and down her back. “i promise.”

“i love you guys.” she says, breaking away and looking at both evan and barty standing in front of her.

james, regulus, sirius, and mr and mrs potter are all standing off to the side, the eldest two of the group smiling gently at the interaction before them.

“we love you too.” barty reciprocates, gently squeezing corvus’ shoulder.

“hey, we're gonna be fine.” evan assures, though there's that sad sort of look in his eye that they all understand.

they know that it's a lie. so long as they're trapped in those houses that they are forced to call home, it's never going to be fine.

they're lying to themselves. they all are. there's a war going on. and now that regulus and corvus are with the potter’s, they're fighting on opposite ends.

they're drowning out the voices screaming this in their ears. drowning it out with smiles and laughter and words that will never be true. convincing themselves that maybe they will.

they're setting fire to the truth that lies around them. trying to find comfort in what they hope will someday be the truth. 

maybe the war will stop before it has to tear them away from each other. 

when it comes down to it, corvus really isn't sure what decision she is going to make. 

sure, leaving the house of black was the start of the “good” decision. the decision that sirius wants her to make. that james does. 

but she doesn't know what she'll do when faced with the choice between right and wrong.

between facing against her best friends, or her brother. her- whatever james is to her. she doesn't know if she can stomach thinking about it.

so she doesn't. she plasters the smile back onto her face and looks into evan rosier’s sad eyes and says, “i know.”

it's strange being back in the potter’s house. it's like corvus has a whole different perspective of it. now that she and james are… involved.

james potter bleeds into every crevice of this house. to the point that it's almost unbearable. 

she sees him in the food that euphemia makes in the kitchens. the way she steers clear of certain things that she knows he doesn't like.

she sees him in the things fleamont keeps in the garage. the way he has quidditch books and polishing kits lying on tables throughout the room to keep him busy.

she sees him in the couches in the living room. the way his blankets are messily thrown over the top, waiting to be neatly folded.

and she even sees him in her own room. the way euphemia has placed a eucalyptus scented candle on the top of her headboard. 

it makes her want to scream. 

how even now, even during christmas break, where she thought she might get a chance to escape his warmth, he still envelopes her in his hold, never letting go. 

it's beautiful. it's heartbreaking.

so amazing, yet full of so much pain.

“i think we should tell sirius about us.” 

james’ voice in the doorway to corvus’ room almost makes her jump out of her desk. she puts down her quill and crumples up the now ruined piece of parchment that she had been writing on. 

“what?” she snaps, turning around in her desk chair to send a harsh glare in the brown skinned boy’s direction.

james immediately deflates, suddenly becoming smaller.

“i just- i mean, you said he already knows, so we might as well just tell him. what would be in the harm in that?” he asks timidly.

“the harm in that, would be if he doesn't know. what then? we would've just told him for nothing.” corvus bites back, rising out of her chair.

“it wouldn't be for nothing, corvus.” james argues, standing up taller again. “he's your brother. and he's my best friend. he has a right to know.”

“he doesn't have a right to anything. not anymore.” corvus crosses her arms over her chest, her words coming out like daggers, the sharpness of corvus black suddenly ever present in the softness of james potter.

“don't do that.” james says, taking a step back and shaking his head. “sirius had every right to leave that house. you know that.”

“do i?” corvus questions, even though she knows the answer to that question. yes. of course she knows that. but she continues anyway. she always does. “he left me in a burning house and didn't even bother to hand me a glass of water.”

“you set the house on fire and asked him if he was too warm.” james fires back, ice in his expression. 

corvus has never seen james like this. she reels back, the hurt making its way onto her face before she quickly places the mask back on.

“leave.” she demands, voice devoid of anything. the way it so commonly is when it comes to the black family.

“corvus, i-” james takes a step forward, his arm reaching out.

“james. leave.” 

“no.” james states, his face stern. “you can't just shut me out because you're scared.”

“i'm not scared.” corvus argues, rolling her eyes.

“then why won't you tell sirius?” he demands, eyebrow raised. 

“because it's not smart.”

“why not?”

“because it's dangerous.”

“how?”

“because he'll tear us apart, james!” corvus shouts, raising her arms in the air. she lets out a breath, deflating. “he'll hate us together. he hated me even just coming here. he'll think i'm taking you away from him. he won't let you have both of us, james. i know he won't. and you know it too. and i know that you'll chose him. and i can't- we just can't tell him.”

there is a heavy silence in the air for far longer than corvus is comfortable with, though she doesn't break it. she wouldn't know how. eventually, however, she does.

“is that really how you see me?” she asks, voice quiet and small. vulnerable. “do you really think i set fire to that house?”

she hates the shaking in her voice. hates the wetness building in her eyes. hates all of it. hates that she needs to know the answer. that she's not sure if she can bear to hear it if it is what she thinks it'll be.

james takes a breath, sitting on the edge of corvus’ mattress, hands folded in his lap and head hanging.

“i don't know.” he says truthfully, and corvus feels her stomach drop, the wetness of her eyes increasing despite every one of her greatest wishes. “i don't know what to think about the things that happened in that house, cor.”

“oh.” she breathes, tears falling from her eyes, though she immediately wipes them away.

“but it doesn't change that i love you.” james adds, looking up at her, and corvus notices that there is a similar wetness in his eyes, and she can see it. she can see that he knows.

the answer to corvus’ unasked question. he would pick sirius. if it came to a choice between the two of them. 

and this is exactly why they can't tell sirius. because sirius won't let james be both of theirs. because he'll make him choose. because when it comes down to it, the choice will always be sirius. every time. in every universe.

“please, just go.” corvus pleads, tears escaping her eyes.

she can see the pain in james’ eyes. the yearning to do more. can almost feel his want to reach out and wipe away her tears. 

but he doesn't. instead, he just gets up and walks out the door. leaving corvus to collapse down on the spot of the bed that he had just been sitting on, sobs escaping her mouth.

she doesn't think it's over. she doesn't think it can be. but she does know that this is only going to hurt in the end. it already does.

she knows she's playing with fire. she knows she's going to get burned. but maybe she wants to. maybe just wants to get burned, just so once in her life, she can feel warm.