Mended Crown

Alex had not the foggiest idea how to get the leather cuff off of him. He and Blaise had tried everything their brains could comprehend, but nothing would work. He had tried magic, scissors, fire, anything to get it off, but it was bound to his skin. He had enlisted Amarra and Remus to help him—even if the latter and he weren’t on good terms. 

It was when the new term began that Alex realized that the cuff had started to coincide with the whispers, and he had constantly tell whoever to shut it. Students moved out of his way as if the rumors had started again, and the Slytherins took so much pride in their belligerent mockery. 

However, Alex had learned through a little birdie that Granger and her lion boys were no longer on good terms, and he saw that as an advantage to speak with her. 

“Morning.” She sat next to him in Ancient Runes, her frizzy hair brushed against his shoulder. 

He leaned his head close to her, and whispered, “what’s going on with you and the boys?” 

She didn’t turn her face towards him, but he could see past her hair at the faint smile on her lips. “Ron’s mad at me. And I’ve pissed Harry off. That’s it.” 

Alex nodded and leaned away to listen to the lecture. “Alright. Fair enough.” 

During the lesson, she slipped him a piece of paper. When class ended, she was gone before he could speak to her. He opened the note and smiled at the words scribbled out. 

Myrtle’s bathroom, dinner.

He thought about what they could say to one another during lunch. Blaise indulged in Luna’s rambles about Snorkacks and Nargles—something Alex had heard a millions times before—while Amarra spoke about her most recent prediction in Divination. 

In Charms, Flitwick had much to say about the Full Body-Bind charm, and demonstrated on a couple of students before the end of the session. Alex was the first out of the classroom, and told Blaise to save him some food before he headed for the second-floor lavatory. 

He found Hermione already inside. She argued with Myrtle when he entered, and the flimsy ghost appeared in his face before he could open his mouth. 

“‘Ello snake boy. You’ve yet to grace me with your presence this year, I was beginning to worry.” She looked between him and Hermione, then snickered. “What’re you two up to this time? Frolicking among the bathroom stalls? Or in the bathtub?” 

Alex rolled his eyes, and sent Myrtle on her way. The ghost stuck her tongue out and disappeared back through her toilet bowl. Alex turned to Hermione, who had turned a deep shade of scarlet. 

“I’m sorry about her. She’s been a little too…gross for comfort since the Chamber of Secrets opened. Uh, what’s up?” 

The door opened, and Alex turned on the balls of his feet with his wand out. Instead of a professor or a student, a big, fluffy ginger cat came in and rubbed against Alex’s leg. “Who is this handsome fellow?” 

He took the cat in his arms, and got a good look at its grumpy and squashed face. “He your’s?” 

“That’s Crookshanks. He’s the reason Ron is mad at me.” Hermione reached her hand out to scratch the cat’s chin “It’s strange seeing him let anyone but me pick him up. He’s rather moody.” 

Alex petted the large, furry cat. “Is it about Scabbers?” 

She looked at him in wonder. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came. Finally, she said, “how’d you know?” 

He leaned against one of the sinks, and thought he heard it crack slightly under his weight. “I’ve got some information you might like to learn.” Crookshanks stayed in his arms, and the cat’s yellow-slitted eyes scanned over him for a moment before he rubbed his head against Alex’s chin.

They didn’t stay in the bathroom for more than five minutes after Myrtle had initially left. Instead, they walked to the Gryffindor common room and then to the library. Alex explained all that he knew about Scabbers, and why he agreed with his new friend, Crookshanks.

Hermione, in turn, explained to Alex about what she had learned at the Three Broomsticks about Sirius Black, and how it felt nearly impossible for Pettigrew to be alive.

“So, Fudge said that it was Black who was the secret-keeper?” 

She nodded. She had noticed how tense his face had become. “Is it not true?” 

“Originally, Black proposed the idea that he could be the secret-keeper, but it was shot down by Dumbledore. Because Black was extremely close to the Potters, if he was caught and tortured, he would spill. So, they chose Pettigrew to be it. But he spilled the beans, and told Riddle about the Potters’. Black, in turn, sought to kill Pettigrew, but the latter turned into his animagus form during the fight.” Crookshanks butted his head against Alex’s chin again. “And this one knows that.” 

She looked between him and her cat. Then her eyebrows furrowed. “How do you know that? What’s your connection to all of this?” 

Alex could feel a lump grow in his throat. He placed the cat on the library desk, and his fingers fiddled with the leather cuff. “I know I promised you never to keep secrets from Potter, but I need you to do it again.” 

She placed her hand on his, and her brown eyes found his. He relaxed. “Black is my godfather.” 

He watched her eyes dilated. She stared at him in shock, and suddenly all of the nerves came rushing back to him. Her hand gripped his manacled wrist, but he didn’t tear it from her. She had to process it all. 

Then he saw everything he had told her the past three years click. Her hand flew to her mouth, and she stared at him in shock. He looked nervously between her and the cat. He wondered if the library had any scheming ears nearby. If the books could listen and talk back. If Peeves was nearby. 

“You’re… the heir of Slytherin… and Harry’s god-brother?” She whispered. 

Alex felt his palms grow increasingly clammy. Besides Blaise, he had never told anyone else who he was. She was the first person outside of his own house that wasn’t his family to be told. To anyone, it would’ve been an honor to know that. But for Hermione, it meant that she would have to keep that a secret for a very long time. 

The cat’s bottlebrush tail rubbed against Alex’s forearm, and he watched it butt its head against Hermione arm. Alex didn’t know how to deescalate the situation, but he finally felt a sense of comfort in his words. 

“I debated on telling you last year, but after you were attacked, I couldn’t risk it. I felt like it was my fault that you were attacked, and I went to the hospital wing when I could to sit beside you. But this is my truth—two of my largest secrets— and you get to know about it. I find you to be a solace, someone I can trust and be true to.” His words felt like a jumble of different sentences to come from his mouth, but his mind knew it to be true. 

She took her cat in her arms, and he braced himself to be smacked or for her to flee, but then she spoke. “You don’t want to be Black’s godson, do you?” 

He looked at her. She had studied him—he knew that she had. “How’d you figure?” 

“You don’t refer to him by his first name, and when you said it, there was some hate in your voice. What’d he do to you?” 

Alex laughed painfully. “That’s a story for another time. Shall we walk to dinner?” 

They walked in silence. Crookshanks jumped out of her arms before they reached the ground level, and they walked into the Great Hall just before dessert was served. Alex didn’t mind the stares on his back as he walked in, nor the amount of orange fuzz on his robes, but he was happy he finally said something to Hermione. 

——

For the next few weeks, Hermione spent more and more time around Alex. They had four classes together, and she sat at the Ravenclaw table with him during breakfast and lunch. Then, by the start of February, she ceased her activity around him. He had learned from Salazar that her and Potter made up, but she and Weasley were still on thin terms. 

In March, one fine morning before the Gryffindor-Ravenclaw match, Malfoy sat across from Alex at the Ravenclaw table. Both Alex and Blaise looked to one another, before the former leaned in intrigued. 

“What’s on your mind, Malfoy?” 

“When’s your sister coming in?” 

Alex shrugged. “It’s Saturday, give her some time. Why, what’s up?” 

Malfoy face fell into a sullen despair. He fidgeted with a gold fork, before he spoke. “You know the hearing that’s coming up for the hippogriff?” 

Both Alex and Blaise nodded. “Why the sudden remorse for Bucky?”

Malfoy sighed. “I tempted it. I shouldn’t have. But people look up to me, you know, I had to cause a scene.” 

“I don’t know who looks up to you, but they’ve got some messed up feelings if they put their trust onto you.” Malfoy lowered his head. Suddenly, Alex felt terrible. “Forget I said anything, Malfoy.” 

“I just…I saw your sister down by Hagrid’s the other day, and I wanted to apologize to her for putting an innocent creature to death because of my actions.” 

Blaise looked to Alex. Before the former could open his mouth, Alex raised his hand. “You should be apologizing to Hagrid or to Bucky. Not her.” 

“She terrorized me after I got out of the hospital wing. Said I should feel ashamed for not only my actions but for causing such a scene to risk the life of another.”

“And it’s just now hitting you?” Blaise asked. 

Malfoy shook his head. “I’ve been thinking about it since. I hate the attention it’s had brought me, but I can’t bring myself to head down to Hagrid’s.” He sighed. 

“I wanted to apologize to your sister before the match today.” 

Alex lifted his head to see his sister enter, and a smile appeared on his face. “Well, now is your time.” 

He watched as Amarra sat next to Malfoy, but she was so happy about the match, that she didn’t care that the blonde-headed boy was next to her. Alex motioned for Malfoy to say something, but when the latter shook his head, Alex spoke. 

“Mara, Malfoy wishes to apologize to you.” 

She turned her head towards Malfoy, and Alex saw her eyes narrow. Alex had to hold back laughter as he watched her become a hawk in the night, and glare down upon the boy. Malfoy stammered as he spoke, but he finally said his piece to her about Buckbeak. He left in such a hurry after she said it was all fine, that Alex was convinced that Malfoy had learned his lesson. 

However, with his sister in such a foul mood, he wondered if he should say what he wanted to speak to her about. Blaise had to nudge him, and Alex opened his mouth to speak. 

“Dearest sister,” he began. He saw Blaise put his head in his hands from the corner of his eye. Amarra turned her glare-like eyes in his direction, and Alex had to smile through the fear. “I know today is a very important day for you, but Blaise and I wondered if we could skip the match?” 

He braced himself to be smacked, but she merely shrugged. “I expected you two to not be interested in the match. Besides, it’s terribly cold, and I know you snakes love the heat.” 

Alex let out a breath he knew he had been holding. He looked to Blaise, and then stood. “Well, despite the insult, have a great match, birdie.” 

That, of course, prompted her to smack his arm. He winced before he grabbed an apple and headed for the door. He knew Blaise would be close behind. 

Once the common room was empty, Alex and Blaise sat in front of the fireplace. Despite the close encounter a couple of months prior, Alex found comfort in the flames. He had his journal sprawled out in front of him, and the boombox played soft sounded music. Blaise was enamored by the device, and kept asking questions about the different kinds of music it could play. 

“We’re learning about different genres right now in Muggle Music, and I thought of you when the professor mentioned rock n’ roll.” 

“Do I give off a rock aesthetic?” Alex asked. “I always thought myself to be punk rock, or maybe metal.” 

The tape skipped a track before Alex could get his hands on the stereo, and he cursed himself for not having figured out all the kinks of non-magical items in a magical world. “You interested in ABBA?” 

“Who?” 

“Who? Who!” Alex threw his hands up. “One of the best bands of the seventies! Your mum doesn’t have good music!” 

“Lest you forget, the wizarding world is still stuck in the nineteenth century,” Blaise laughed. “How’s the practice of spell-creation?” 

“Fine. I think I have what I need to make this charm. Hand me the stereo, please.” 

Blaise moved it away from him. “Come and get it, snake boy.” 

Alex’s lips curled into a smile. He rose to his knees and moved to take it from him, but Blaise moved it further back. “Stop teasing, Blaisy. Hand it over. I want to introduce you to the best band in the world.” 

Blaise leaned back to block him from the boombox, and smiled playfully at him. Alex came closer, and he leaned in to try to grab the handle when he felt Blaise’s face close to his. Something brushed past his lips, and Alex indulged in the action that had been committed. 

There was an aftertaste of pumpkin juice on Blaise’s lips—mellow and faint—as if he had downed a whole jar of it before this. Alex matched the rhythm in which Blaise created, and he loomed over the latter’s body with longing. 

Finally, Blaise pulled away. Alex saw the smile form on his lips, and the glint in his eye. “You planned this, didn’t you?” 

Blaise nodded, and straightened his back. He pulled the stereo from behind him, and handed it to Alex. “Play your music, lover boy.” 

There was a ambiance of playfulness in the air, and while Alex was so sure that he had been tricked, Blaise looked at him in wishfulness. The cassette tape clicked into place, and the first song on the roster echoed throughout the common room. Alex scoffed at the upbeat tones, and looked at Blaise’s dark eyes.

“You might have broodiness to you, but I think you have angel eyes, Blaisy.” 

“Broodiness? Have you seen yours? I think I have energetic ones.” 

Alex shook his head. A smile caressed his lips. “No, you seemingly have energetic lips.” 

Blaise laughed. He grabbed Alex’s collar and pulled him close, their lips met once more. Alex’s eyes closed at the touch, and he placed one hand on the floor to steady himself. The other slipped to Blaise’s chest—he felt the boy’s heartbeat race underneath his clothes. 

“Happy that we skipped the match, are you, snake boy?” Blaise whispered against his lips. 

Alex’s clothes stuck to his back, and heat rose through his body quickly. “Oh, yes, I am, Blaisy.” 

He heard the stereo click, and another groovy song radiated through the speakers. Alex smiled against Blaise’s lips, and began to mouth the lyrics. 

Blaise took the chance to kiss him in-between the words, and Alex felt an overwhelming sense of comfort in the boy’s presence. 

“Who do you think will win?” Alex asked. They had moved away from the fire, their stuff had moved with them to the sofas. He sat beside Blaise, his head on the boy’s shoulder. Above them—through the many layers of stone and wood—they could hear the roars of the game. “I want it to be a tied match so bad.” 

“No, the lions will prevail. They always find a way.” Blaise entwined his fingers into Alex’s and held them close. “Unless Amarra decides to pick up a broom and help her team, I don’t see the birdies winning.” 

Alex smiled at the experience they had just shared. “How long had you been planning this?” 

“I realized since the summer duels that I liked you. Seeing you stand up against dangerous men made me feel something. I’ve watched you face more deadly odds before, yet I held my breath every time a curse was fired at you. I learned that I cared for you more than I had anyone else.” 

“So, since then?” 

Blaise nodded. “Since then.” 

Alex placed a kiss on his cheek, and smiled. “Good. I’ll continue risking my life for you to like me, Zabini.” 

Blaise scoffed, and then smacked down on Alex’s groin. Alex groaned and closed his legs just as a rush of students sounded from above. “Don’t even attempt to try that, Snape,” Blaise whispered. 

Alex watched his fingers slip from the boy’s grasp, and the latter rose to his feet just as they heard their housemates voices. Blaise grabbed the boombox, then turned to wink at Alex before he slipped into dormitories. A hue of blush tainted his cheeks, and Alex stood with his journal in hand. 

“Oi, Snape!” Malfoy’s voice caught him before he could enter the dormitory hall. “You missed a good prank! Potter was freaked!” 

All happiness began to disappear in his face, but the boy turned around with a strange smile on his lips. “Dress up as a dementor again? Now, Malfoy, we all know you can’t do a good impression of those black cloaked beings. Leave that to your daddy.” 

The common room fell into a silent despair. If he had been in any other house, the rest of them would’ve found it funny. Yet, he had played with fire and was about to be burned. 

Malfoy was in his face in a seconds. He was no longer the scared little boy who wished for Amarra’s forgiveness anymore. Nor the scheming side that wished to put Alex down.

Instead, there was a murderous look in Malfoy’s eyes. In all of their eyes. He was in a pit full of snakes, and they all waited to be the one to kill him. 

His hand fidgeted for his wand hilt, and he saw the blonde-haired boy’s hand reach for his own wand. “Say something about my father again, Snape. I dare you.” 

“Your daddy is a coward, Malfoy. A tail-tucked bastard who—” 

“Messrs. Crabbe, Flint, Goyle, and Malfoy, come with me, now. And…” McGonagall’s voice lingered when she how still the common room was, and her black eyes found Alex’s. “Mister Snape, your father would like a word with you.” 

Alex smiled warningly at Malfoy, and his eyes tested him. Malfoy huffed and turned away from him. He followed the others, and Alex followed after McGonagall. She pointed him in the direction of his father’s office, and led the other four towards hers. 

“Sit, Alexander.” Snape barely looked away from his parchment when Alex came in. The boy grabbed a chair and waited for his father to speak. “Where were you today?” 

“In the common room with Blaise.” 

Snape nodded slowly. His quill kept writing. “Not up to anything strange? Minding your business?” 

Alex nodded. “No, sir. We studied and listened to music.” 

The quill came to a screeching halt. Alex wondered what in his words made his father angry. Snape looked to him with dark, broody eyes, and Alex knew he was in some sort of trouble. Of what, he did not know. 

“I had a run-in with Professor Lupin the other day. He told me about your dream and that.” He pointed to the cuff on Alex’s wrist. “Said you employed him to help you get it off, but nothing worked. Mind telling me how it was attached to you?” 

Alex had recited and recounted all the ways he should say how the cuff had attached itself to him. His father knew what it was—a shitty gift from a shitty person—yet, he couldn’t tell him exactly what had happened. 

“Well?” 

Alex opened his mouth to speak. He was still flustered from the hour prior. No words would come out. 

“Shall I give you a detention? Perhaps that will loosen your tongue.” 

“You wouldn’t believe me, sir.” Snape’s brows furrowed upon his son’s words—cool and untrustworthy. “I had a dream where Black cornered me and placed the cuff on me. I don’t know how to get it off.” 

“So, he is in the castle. And you know where.” 

Alex shook his head. “My dream was in the forest. Despite his attack on the Gryffindor common room, I have no idea where he is in the castle.” 

It was the truth. Black could’ve been anywhere. He could’ve been outside the office or up in the headmaster’s office. But Alex didn’t know where he was. “I swear it, sir.” 

Snape huffed, and took his quill again. “I’ll be keeping an eye on you, Alexander. You may leave.” 

Alex stood and headed for the door. Behind him, the scratches of the quill started again, but he didn’t leave the office. “Yes, boy?” 

“Why do you blame me?” Alex asked. “Why do you think that I let him into the castle when you know I rarely leave the common room or the library?” 

Snape sighed frustratedly. Alex turned his head, and watched his father pinch the bridge of his nose. “Because you would’ve done anything for his approval. Perhaps you’re telling true, but I think you do know where he is and you just don’t want to say anything to incriminate either of you. Now, leave.” 

Alex retained all that had been said, and when he walked out, he heard the door slam behind him. He walked further into the dungeons. He lifted his wand and a flicker of light lit the ends of it. 

He walked toward the room he had encountered Black in when he found the rat. Perhaps, he would find his godfather and turn him in. Perhaps, his father was right. He sought approval. 

He entered the dungeon room, and it lit up at the sight of his wand. It was empty. Nothing but old dust and chains. 

He left back the way he came, but his ears perked when he heard something off the side. “Nox,” he whispered when he entered the old detention room. He closed his eyes to listen to the scenery around him. 

A faint draft echoed around the room. The smell of mildew and dust coated his nose. His wand fell to his side, but his fingers dug into the carvings casted upon the wood. His thumb traced over the snake on the hilt, and he heard it speak to him. 

In the corner, no mutt, just bones.

A chuckle came from the very corner, and Alex opened his eyes to the darkness. He saw the yellow teeth first, then the off-white and faint blue of the jumpsuit. 

“Hello, Snivellus.” The voice was hoarse but rich. “Come to turn me into the dementors? You’ll finally get your wish of watching me die.” 

Alex tilted his head slowly, his eyes narrowed in on the shadows. Black thought he was his father. Good. 

“You’re no fun anymore, Snivelly. You used to love to talk, and talk. And brood, and brood. But I see you haven’t stopped with the latter.” His laugh was harsh and empty. “Do you wish to know why I’m here? I’m sure you think you know, and always prided yourself in knowing more than everyone else.” 

He stepped closer. Alex could smell his foul breath and stench. His yellowy smile grew and his grey eyes reflected the darkness back to Alex. “I’ve come to Hogwarts for two individuals. I’m sure you’ve guessed that Potter is one of them, but he’s on my good side. But Pettigrew—oh I plan to kill him.” 

Closer he came. “And I don’t care about anyone else. If they step in my way, I’ll kill them too. It’s Potter I wish to care for. And Pettigrew, I wish to kill. No one else matters, no one else is significant enough for me.” 

Alex found his voice then and there. “Not even Remus?” 

Black stammered back. “You’re…not Snivellus.” 

“You’d kill Remus? I thought you loved him. I thought you would at least thank him for helping you, but you’d kill Moony too?” 

The darkness that reflected off of Black’s eyes also reflected off of his. Alex couldn’t see past the foul stench nor the hatred, but he knew Black would never harm Remus. “No, no. You would never hurt your friends. You would rather die than betray your friends. But your family?” Alex laughed. “You would kill your own family if they stood in your way.”

Black inched closer, and he realized that he didn’t recognize his godson at all.  “Alexander.” 

“Keep my name out of your mouth, Sirius. You don’t care about me, you never have. You just said you would kill anyone—myself included—if they got in the way of your most prized possessions.

“I never stood a chance, did I? I’ll never be your favorite, because you never cared enough to make it work.” Alex made a grab for the cuff, and it finally released itself from his wrist. “Now take your gift back, and get out of my life.” 

Before Black could reach out, the boy disappeared back into the corridor. He heard the door close behind him, and his eyes readjusted to the lit torches upon the walls. He stopped at his father’s office, but couldn’t bear to knock.

He wanted to run. To get out of the castle. To get away from the people who expected so much of him. 

He wished it—all the pain and weight—would all go away. He wished it would all stop. Once and for all.