The Girls

Carter and Preston shared a quick panicked look as Prescott wailed but before they even had time to shush the younger boy, Rosemary was near flying from the house and knelt over him with critical eyes, Uncle Wormy also out and scanning around. Suppose that’s what came with a high up Auror dad and Hit Witch mum but soon enough his skinned knee was healed with a boo-boo kiss on top and he was whisked away inside the house, still sniffling.

“You didn’t trip him up did you?” Uncle Wormy asked them wearily and both boys hurriedly shook their heads.

It was true that sometimes, it...Well, got a little bit annoying to have to play with a baby like Prescott. And sometimes they did leave him behind or ditch him, or play a prank so that he’d leave them alone, but really they had nothing to do with it this time!

“He tripped on a rock!” Preston pointed over at the offending rock and Uncle Wormy sighed even longer.

“Alright. Go have fun then but snacks will be ready in ten, maybe fifteen minutes.” he shooed them off and they were quick to run off with innocence firmly assured.

“At least I won’t have to deal with him at Hogwarts.” Preston mumbled and Carter frowned a little. Preston would be going in a year ahead of Carter. And while sure, he did have plenty enough friends, Preston was his best mate. And it meant less hanging out at Uncle Wormy’s house too, because no way was he coming over just to play with Prescott. Well whatever, they didn’t have to worry about that yet anyways. “I found a log that’s full of fairies, wanna go try to catch some?” Preston grinned at him and Carter beamed back at him.

The fairies in the nearby park tended to be combative but ultimately harmless. Did that meant that when they got the chance, they went and tried to catch and then release them on unsuspecting victims?

Well. They were mini-Marauders after all. A little harmless prank here or there was only to be expected.

xXx

“Molly?” Lucretia scoffed, having immediately agreed to a visit away from England. She tapped off her fag in a crisp fashion that reminded Wallie of younger, less painful times when they would get together while their children played.

...Fabian and Gideon had been a painful loss. Was still, after years, a sore wound. The war, that Dark Lord, all of it has caused nothing but pain and suffering for the Black family, dividing and destroying it person by person and piece by piece.

“She blamed our side of the family for the actions of a few and refuses to speak to me. I haven’t seen my own grandchildren since the twins were born, haven’t even had a chance to meet the younger two.” her sister-in-law told her bitterly. “And given only Arthur and Miriam showed up at Cedrella’s funeral I doubt they ever got to know much of the Blacks from her either. Black through both sides and not a lick of heritage being taught to them.” her teeth flashed before she settled again. “The last time Molly and I had a civil conversation without her blaming me for…” she stopped short, eyes going hard, “For what happened somehow, it was to ask for a few of Fabian and Gideon’s things. For her children to inherit.”

“Do...You think Aunty Dori might be able to get in a word? Through her son or...Sirius?” Wallie asked worriedly. “Or maybe Iggy? She always was more daddy’s girl.”

“She’s stopped talking to him too. Because he tried to get her to at least let me meet the children. I don’t know what she thinks I’m going to do, what she sees me as. As it is, if I or Iggy dies I doubt she’d even bother showing up to her own parents’ funerals.”

“I...Am sure I’ve already passed that point with Sirius.” Wallie muttered and Lulu turned to her, eyes as assessing as ever.

“You’ve recently met your granddaughter, you said. From little Reggie?”

“Yes. Yes...Mimosa, little Mimi. She’s...She’s wonderful.”

“Tell me about her?” Lulu turned more towards her and this time it was Wallie’s turn to eye her. Lulu, when the twins died, went into a very dark mourning period. Molly cutting off as well soon after in her own grief hadn’t helped even if it took a while for Lulu to even notice the distance of her only daughter. Knowing she had grandchildren, knowing they were there but she wasn’t allowed near them was probably devastating. A completely different pain to Wallie’s own discovery of her grandchild. Her only grandchild, given Wallie was fully aware of Sirius’s...Procedure. And Regulus as he was…

“She’s rambunctious. Likes to run about, likes to roughhouse.” Wallie felt her lips curl in a smile, but only briefly. “She’s recently begun to experiment with some of the metamorphmagi abilities she has.”

“Metamorphmagi?” Lulu leaned forward, surprised. “What, like Cyggi’s granddaughter? You know,” Lulu’s lips curled into a mean, pleased smile, “Dru and Cissy’s faces when he told them Andy’s daughter was a fully realized metamorphmagus were utterly perfect. You’d have loved to see it. Dru didn’t even know Andy had been pregnant.”

“Didn’t even- well, not like Cyggi would have had any reason to tell her.” Wallie scoffed, stirring her tea with a flick of her wand. “Or that she’d have listened. Even I wouldn’t have said the things that woman said about her child.” a dark look passed both their faces. “I’ve not a clue what that man saw in her.”

“Saw how eager she was to open her legs. Orion never did care about quality. How the fool died in the first place. Should have known that trying to dabble with a Flint woman while he was still seeing Dru wouldn’t have ended well. But speaking of, have you spoken to Cyggi recently?”

“Not...Recently.” she said slowly. “After the argument about Al…” she frowned, pursing her lips. Blasting her brother after he’d aided sneaking Sirius out had been...Mostly out of hurt and egged on by several of the older portraits. Who didn’t really like laidback Al who dodged or otherwise wormed his way out of each and every marriage and betrothal proposal and proposition sent his way. She and Cyggi both had argued that it was hardly necessary given how many other families they were already allied with through blood and marriage and how widely the Black blood and name had spread at the time.

Of course they both knew that he was actually sweet on a muggle woman and blasting would have happened anyways should his secret relationship be brought to light.

But she...Might have threatened to out his lover to the family at large. At the time, with tensions being what they were that was a potentially...Deadly thing to condemn both him and her to, should it reach the wrong ear.

She wouldn’t have done it. But she should have never thrown that in his face the way she did, at a time when she was already starting to spiral form pressure over Sirius’s rebellious attitude and her ‘inability’ to curb her husband’s lusts. The whole period of time had been...Difficult.

Al’s children took his wife’s name and since that awful threat of hers, she hadn’t seen Al nor Elise, let alone their children Miram, Talitha or Hadar.

...Wallie struggled to apologize. She was excruciatingly aware of that. She’d loved her brothers and their children.

Bella, proud Bella, had been her favorite of them all.

Bella, Cyggi’s eldest and who’d loved her cousins, if a bit rough with them…

Turned into someone who’d slaughter them because of their blood. Regardless of how she had loved them once. Who’d have slaughtered Sirius if she were given the chance for being a bloodtraitor regardless of the hours she’d spent teaching him duelling stances when they were younger. Who might have been part of the battle that had taken Fabian and Gideon.

Slaughter. Torture. Bright Bella, who embodied some of the best of Black attributes turned to little more than a deranged thuggish lackey, devoted to a Lord that was no Lord at all. Bella, who aided in an attack that left little Mimi’s mother in a dangerously early labor that had lasting health effects on her youngest daughter, Aunty Dori’s granddaughter Wisteria.

Andy had been Cyggi’s favorite, and still was. Cissy was her mother’s favorite. But there had been jokes about how Bella should have been her daughter instead, a darker undertone under the whole thing given whose bed Wallie’s husband was most often in.

But those were all very grim thoughts.

“Are you three still on that?” Lulu sighed, shaking her head and bringing Wallie’s attention back to the matter at hand. “Come on.” she stood up, swatting her long braid back behind her shoulder. Wallie looked up at her quizzically. “We’re going to Floo-call him and bring him and Al over and get all this nonsense sorted out. We’ve had enough division in this family.” the woman told her dryly and a flare of alarm ran through Wallie.

“We can’t just-”

“Oh yes we can.” she said firmly. “Stop being such a ninny, Wallie. Meek doesn’t suit you at all.”

And soon they were marching off towards the foyer where the main Floo was set up.

xXx

Peony crept in the dark, her slippers softening the sound her feet made as she followed a familiar path.

Peony was most often with her oldest sister, with Nena and often where she went, Peony followed. But she shared a room with Leni and Nena was going to go to Beauxbaton soon, very soon now.

She followed that familiar path, the one Leni sometimes takes, around to the room where there was wood. Lots of woods, in chunks and pieces, some with bark still, some smoothed and with finishes and all, some broken pieces off furniture. Lots, and lots of wood.

It was a special room, just for Leni.

...Sometimes, it felt like Leni was maman’s favorite just like Leni was mémère’s favorite. Like Reau was pépère’s favorite even if it was a little less obvious than mémère, and how Nena was belle-mère’s Dauphine’s favorite even over tante Petunia’s kids.

But, it’s not like it matters who maman’s favorite was anyways. After they went on that trip (and it was a good trip! She had a lot more shells now lining her shelves, pretty and strange looking and beautiful) she was still gone most of the time. They all had diner together more often now, sometimes breakfast too but most of the time, maman was still gone. Tante Petunia hadn’t seemed pleased about it much but maman now spent some days of the week with them more.

Peony used the practice-wand that had a few spells imbued into it to cast a lumos, and there was Leni, surrounded by patches of wood.

Leni, her eyes cloudy, her pupils shiny and silvery somehow as her hands did something strange to the wood pieces she had, shaping them and then slotting those pieces together.

Those pieces, the images they create, ones already done were hung on the walls. Maman would take photos of them, take them somewhere else to be cataloged because they might be important. Nobody really told them much about it anyways.

Leni was a Seer. Usually things like this happened when she was asleep, not too often but enough that her ‘visions’ were everywhere on the walls. Sometimes, but not often, it happened when Leni was awake. But she’d become like she was now, where she didn’t hear anyone, didn’t seem to see anyone and her hands moved and used some kind of magic as she got her hands on wood, usually furniture, whatever was closest to hand if they weren’t home and she couldn’t immediately reach her room of wood.

Leni usually couldn’t remember things she saw when her eyes weren’t weird and silvery and her face wasn’t slack the way it was like now. Not very well anyways.

Sometimes Peony wished she didn’t have to share a room with her. Wake up because she heard the door open and her sister’s form trudging out and away. She could never go back to sleep the same, even if she usually did end up going back to sleep anymore. She knew where Leni was going and knew she wasn’t going to hurt herself or get hurt and when she was done with whatever scene or face she was making, she would shamble back to her bed and Peony would be left to tuck her under her blankets.

But sometimes Peony did follow her. Just in case.

...When Nena was in school, she told Peony that she was allowed to stay in her room while she was gone because Nena didn’t have to share a room.

But, in the end, she didn’t think she would end up doing that. Nena was her favorite, yeah, but she loved Leni a lot too and the thought of waking up and not looking over to her sister’s bed, whether she was in it or not, sounded lonely.

So Peony carefully slipped into the room and onto the stool that Leni never used and yawned and rubber her eyes as she sat, watching her sister.

xXx

Luc sighed as he watched the clock. He and his moitié had a date tonight, the children watched collectively by his mère and hers alongside her père and Quilicus, and one of the girl’s paternal grand-mère, which meant they would all be well in-hand for him and his wife to take time to enjoy themselves alone for a night and the coming morning.

When he’d first started writing, he hadn’t thought much of the system that would see him writing to a moyen even if they were aware of the magical world.

Petunia was not what he had expected. How could she be? Even in her letter, there was a sharp intelligence and a bitterness of her own lack of magic. But beneath it was a deep curiosity, a deep wonder and clawing desire to understand these things, the things that she had been turned from, a child-like amazement that he himself had never had given he grew up in and around it. At first it was only amusing to explain these little nuances to her, but as she dug deeper, as her questions became more and more niche and her pondering on paper as opposed to parchment became more as she herself learned more, he...Felt it was a waste that her mind was stuck in a moyen body. She was clever, grasped things that would have, should have taken years for others to understand.

Even now, even today she would argue that she wasn’t the smart one of her family, that because her sister had a renowned position well known for her research that Petunia herself was not clever by comparison.

And Luc, though his wife was confident now, though she was amazing and she was at least aware of some of that, mourned that she would never see just how truly great and beautiful her own mind was.

There were times, and especially during her marriage and first pregnancy, that he’d felt...Cheated, a little.

Cheated that some other man had captured her heart, could call someone as clever as Petunia Evans who was no longer Evans their own.

Not when he, having asked advice for things in his own department and given clear and intelligent answers that were implemented beautifully, had never so much as seen her in person and hadn’t had the chance to even-

Of course, Luc hadn’t known or acknowledged then that somehow, over nothing but written word, he’d fallen in love. Or at least, was primed to fall in love with a woman he’d never truly met. When he woke up, it was wondering if she’d sent him a letter that day. When he went to sleep, it was wondering if she was heading to sleep too. Throughout the day, he wondered what she was doing, how she was doing, about what she’d write about to him next, about her in general because as much as she wanted to know about other things, she was almost dismissive that she herself was anything interesting. But she was. He wanted to know more about her and the small things, little details she sometimes threw out thoughtlessly were precious.

But even then, he denied that it could be anything beyond him making a close, and very quickly dear, friend. He wasn’t ready, or even desirous of a relationship.

And especially, that it had been a moyen he’d become so smitten with. The Malveaux, unlike the Malfois, had no qualms about moyen, not even about relationships with one but those never...Amounted to anything serious. A P.A.C. once, in the admittedly short time Malveaux had been Malveaux but even then, the child they’d had didn’t take their name and wasn’t technically on their family roster. Even the reason the Malveaux had been split off from Malfois had been over mere friendship with a moyen-born witch that...Was only suspected to be more, that sundered his great-pépère from the Malfois entirely. They hadn’t, the witch having married a Veela man and his great-pépère his great-mémère but then, what little he knew of his Malfois cousins had always been rather...Dramatic. It at least didn’t seem that shocking to him, having met some of those Malfois of today.

Not a moyen, just someone born of moyen and only a hop and skip back generation-wise.

Petunia was outright moyen, and even as a Malveaux who knew better than to think that was any reason not to befriend but something deeper? No, surely not. And he’d never even seen her, how could he feel anything more when she might look like a troll for all he knew?

She didn’t. Of course she didn’t.

The first picture he’d ever received of the woman with the sharp wit and insightful nature at odds with her burning curiosity was of her holding her newborn son, a picture taken by her mère.

And he’d had no choice after that, where he’d been teetering on realizing his feelings he’d fallen flat on his face into them then.

He’d thought, for some reason, that she was older than she was despite the sometimes youthful exuberance she showcased in her questions and through him, exploration of the wizarding world.

And it wasn’t that it was only her looks, but the way she looked as she held her baby.

Luc had never really paid much attention or had any inclination to be a father in the immediate future at that point but seeing her, this woman who’d been winding her way into all his thoughts, holding a baby had struck him through to the core.

He’d kept his tongue on his revelation but the moment she had told him she and Vennes had separated and were waiting for the papers to go through for their outright divorce he had urgently asked to meet her, in person.

So they did meet.

And he blurted out his confession despite knowing that he shouldn’t, that he should wait and she likely wanted time and space to heal from the betrayal she’d been dealt at her soon to be ex-husband’s hands and that this was their first meeting face to face but seeing her, knowing she was right there, that when he hugged her in greeting she was in his arms...

Except she had accepted it, had told him that she’d been closer, emotionally, to Luc than Vennes for months now.

That when she had told Vennes she was pregnant, things had gone...Distant. That she relied more and more on Luc and his letters and looking back, at the increase of letters especially after she’d written him that she was pregnant and the way Vennes was more often out or away.

Vennes was a good father, don’t get Luc wrong and nowadays there was no ill-feelings between any of them, but Petunia had told him that she suspected long before she found out for certain.

And Luc, Luc had no patience and as soon as they could, they were signing papers and having their own wedding, Petunia’s name quickly changing to Malveaux and it filled his heart up.

Even by then however, Petunia was often babysitting for her odd sister if her parents couldn’t, even if it provided a handy playmate for sweet little Luis.

Lily was...Odd. Luc, honestly, wasn’t very close to her and how could he be? If he wasn’t helping to take care of the children or at work, then Lily was often away and working but Petunia loved her younger sister.

And Luc loved Petunia, and all of the nieces that came with her just as much as he loved he loved his own beautiful boys and baby girl.

Luc had never known the depths of love he had to give until Petunia had went in and taken it in for herself.

He wished she could be more selfish sometimes, honestly. He’d give her anything within his power.

But for now, he would be selfish for them as they took their now weekly date-nights. Before it had been once a fortnight given how often they were watching the children but since that trip his wife and her family had gone on (and it was so lonely by himself, and he moped terribly until she and the children returned- his coworkers were still teasing him about it) it happened once a week. If they were lucky, sometimes twice a week.

Ah, a full evening and morning alone with his moitié, his bonheur.

“Et maintenant il le fait encore.” he heard. “Regarder, il a rougi.”

“Bien, je pense que c'est romantique.”

And he blinked back to his desk, sheepishly smiling as amused looks were sent his way.

Right, thoughts like those were best kept for after work. And, he thought as he stared at the parchments awaiting approval before him, as a powerful motivator to get everything done for the day.

xXx

Vivienne Malfois was very, very close to hexing her youngest son who flounced in, having returned from the ‘adventure’ he’d gone on somewhere in the Himalayas, that she’d sent him on for his father and his brother Seigneur Antoine Malflois to attempt to calm down after the latest disaster their prettiest and most carefree child had caused and breezily told them that he’d had a child out of wedlock. And that he was going to be a better papa than his cousin, heir to the Malfois name Lucien or his own brothers Auguste, Emile or Aime. After which he swanned off and was neither in the townhouse he’d gotten for himself nor in the apartment he’d taken on in the heart of Paris and so no one could immediately reach him to question him on this.

Or shake him until they managed to shake out the idiocy his pretty face hid.

One or the other she was sure.

And now she got a letter, complete with him and a child- not baby, but a child- and there was no way she wasn’t blood, wasn’t a Malfois.

Besides his entirely unhelpful letter that was only useful for learning the child’s name, was another letter.

From a Lily Evans.

Vivienne knew that name. Knew it, because Emile constantly complained about how a moyen-born woman and her research ventures, whatever they were for the moment was getting more funding over his own research team. Because that woman had broken through a field of research so thoroughly in a topic that was so prevalent that her name would be in history books even written by those that otherwise would leave out anyone born from moyen blood.

That was the great reach, the great importance of fertility among their people. Vivienne certainly could respect and admire the work that she had done, and the work that allowed others to build upon her breakthroughs and knowledge. Even Antione’s belle-fille, Lucien’s wife Elaine had partook of the fruits of that research after five years of trying. And finally introduced young Didier to the world, so the name Lily Evans was certainly known to the Malfois.

But she was suitably baffled to see the woman’s name in anyway near her youngest son’s.

And outright floored that her pretty stupid wild-child son, her commitment-free little Quili, had somehow, someway managed to not only lay with her, but had even had a little fling with her.

But then he’d gone and did his usual and he’d had to leave to once more escape the wrath of his father and uncle for shaming the Malfois name while the woman had been pregnant. And Quilicus was well versed in dropping any and all communications with everyone and everything and virtually disappearing. It was how he still was a member of their family at all, how angry Armand and Antoine would get at his antics.

Which meant he had only found out recently.

Hence the child he mentioned being a child, and not a baby. As old as Auguste’s youngest, she noted from Lily Evans’s letter.

Vivienne despaired again her youngest son’s prettiness, that it would even sucker in well educated and accomplished women.

She sighed, even as she slid the photo into an ornate frame and got up to go show Armand. Even if he was furious at him, he dearly loved their baby boy, and Antoine thankfully was unbearably fond of his youngest nephew as well.

Otherwise he just wouldn’t be a Malfois anymore.

...Emile was going to be upset. Vivienne was half-sure the reason he’d been so resistant to seeing anyone was that he was infatuated by his self-imposed research-fund rival, how bitterly he would talk about how half his own team seemed to be in love with her.

She was rather pretty, Vivienne had to note as she looked at the picture of the little blonde girl as a baby that she had thoughtfully sent in case Vivienne wasn’t some heartless monster who wanted no knowledge of her own grandchild because it was out of wedlock.

Which of course Vivienne wasn’t, and did very much appreciate the photo.

Certainly she could see how she managed to catch the eye of two of her sons at any rate. She would need to write the woman back but for now, she would show the pretty pretty new grandchild they’d just learned about.