bitter truths
fourth year, 1976.
Adeline remembered reading a story once about bitter truths. One of which the author focused on was the topic of death and about how many folktales portrayed him as a cloaked figure who would knock at the door before whisking that poor unfortunate soul away.
She remembered the author going into detail about how some deaths aren't quiet, and how even death himself didn't always work in silence. Sometimes he would approach the door slowly and loudly knock until everyone in the neighbourhood could hear him. Death as a cloaked figure might approach slow and quiet through the back door without a sound, and surprise the soul while waiting in their favourite armchair after rearranging the silverware in a fit of boredom— but not always.
Death, as a bitter truth, has no warning.
That was the reason for the author's rants, and yet even if it does, it still comes as a surprise. Adeline usually strived to prove such pessimists wrong, but it seemed the author had known the topic well to discuss it. Almost intimately, one would say.
Her mother's death hadn't been silent, death hadn't come sneaking through the back door and in waiting, but pouncing— suddenly and violently. It had been any regular Thursday morning when Adeline had received the news, from an unfamiliar owl at breakfast. Then she had then been escorted from the hall to pack her things, to head to the Ancestral Black Family Manor. There had been no warning, just like the author had said there wouldn't be.
Her mother had died loudly, in a potion's accident that had demolished their entire house in flames and ash, a week before the end of term. What hurt the most at the moment, wasn't the shock and suddenness of her death, or the feeling of grief washing over her in waves, but knowing there was no casket to fill. Everything had been obliterated in less than a second— everything that Adeline held dear to her was in shambles with one catastrophic mistake.
She didn't believe it a first, her mother was perfect in potions. Never capable of making a mistake, she had taught her daughter everything she knew about the craft— so to not foresee the dangerous outcome of combining two lethal ingredients overwhelmed her. Adeline's mother, Cassiopeia Black, didn't make mistakes. It couldn't be true— it simply couldn't.
That was her denial.
With her trunk packed she walked into the floo with shaking knees and tear-rimmed eyes. Her professor's gave their apologies, but none of that mattered at the moment. Adeline didn't want their condolences and promises of exceptions for her exams, she wanted her Maman. She yearned for her Maman— the one perosn who could fix how she felt in this terrible, terrible moment.
The fact didn't change once arriving at Black Manor. She had stood at the fireplace on her own, with no one there to welcome her but a house elf. He had taken her trunk to a spare bedroom and told her that the Master's and Mistresses of the house would be there soon. Adeline had hardly heard a word as she stood there in her swirling pools of grief.
Waves surrounded her, blocking out all sounds and feelings that tried to pull her under. Adeline had not let a tear slip across her cheeks, but she knew logically that it couldn't last much longer. Her mother was dead, gone from the world in a blast and yet, she couldn't cry. She had to be strong, she was a Black—but the waves were pulling at her harder and she was so tired of swimming already.
Adeline waited for her mother to walk through the door and ask what all the fuss was about— to strut inside with her clicking heels and say that there had been some mistake in her proclaimed decease. But it never came, and instead she was met with the cool distance of her Aunt Druella floating through the doorway. She was wearing robes of the palest pink that morning, with a look of pity and shame smudging her otherwise perfectly powdered features. Adeline hadn't seen or heard from her Aunt in years, she knew she was well —if a bit stressed about the betrothal of her eldest daughter Andromeda to some Sacred Twenty-eight heir. It seemed even the grief of loosing a sister-in-law couldn't shake her resolve.
She was given more condolences, though this time with the accompaniment of tea. Adeline accepted them, hoping the herbal blend would given her some warmth to fight the chills that had taken over her shaking hands. It didn't help, not even once they had moved to the dining area with a stoked fireplace. If Aunt Druella had spoken to her further when taking tea, Adeline failed to notice—just as she had absently overlooked the arrival of her Grandfather Arcturus, Grandfather Pollux and Uncle Cygnus coming in the high archways of the home.
They spoke few words, always glancing to her as if expecting her to break at any moment easily, they also indulged on a spot of tea—but she didn't give them the expected. Adeline was strong, she was a Black. Black's did not cry, they did not show weakness, especially to one another. That was the first rule her mother had taught her before she had last seen them at the Black Yuletide Ball all those years ago. It was one rule she was determined to remember since she wasn't going to be getting anymore of them anytime soon.
Adeline almost laughed at the memories of her excitement and naivety when remembering the disaster that was the Black Yuletide Ball all those years ago. How she had stupidly followed Sirius in his pranks and enraged her mother and uncle's so easily. She recalled all the softer, quieter moments at home afterwards, even after her mental health was in shambles over her book of memories.
Her mother had promised an expedition this summer to check the locations— even after Adeline slowly confessed her reasonings. She had told her everything over the summer of her third year, unable to stop over analyzing the situation. Her mother hadn't sent her away and labelled her mad like expected, but instead held her and told her everything would be alright. That they could fix whatever was wrong with sheer determination and logic—, just the way Adeline preferred.
Adeline shoved those thoughts away swiftly too.
"Adeline?" The girl in question, was pulled from her musings with a jerk. Instantly, Adeline was summoning up apologies to those she had forgotten were even still in the room.
Her Grandfather Arcturus was staring at her with cold and emotionless eyes, while her Uncle seemed to understand her sentiments with a far more empathic look smeared across his pointed features. Grandfather Pollux, the most subdued of them all, was gazing at her like she was some crossword puzzle to be solved. She had to resist the urge to snap at them all— she didn't want to speak or hear about anything. All Adeline wanted was a moment to mourn her mother, the grieve her properly and without interruption, though she doubted that to be a possible reaction or wish granted at any near point in time.
"My apologies," She quickly replied, before innocently inquiring, purposely shoving her overwhelming emotions to the back of her mind like she was expected too as a heiress of House Black. "You were saying?"
"Your mother's funeral." Grandfather Arcturus stated bluntly and without an emotion to be found in his deep, baritone voice. "We need to start planning the ceremony and rites. Do you have anything you wish to say or add at the scheduled event?"
The mere thought of standing in front of her mother's colleagues and the many family members that would be attendance had Adeline's stomach writhing. Even if she had wanted too, her nerves would have surely gotten the better of her. Besides, it would only bring forth more pity from those attending, with their fake sympathies and embraces of so-called understanding.
No one understood how she was feeling, and how could they? They all had brother's and sister's, and mother's and father's to still rely upon. Adeline had nothing— not even a home left to return to. It was only her mother and her for years, with her father dead and gone in his own ear-shattering bang of an accident. Spell lore and experimentation shouldn't mix without proper safeguards, her mother had always told her so. It was almost ironic that both her parents would fall victim to their own curiosities and research driven fields. Her father to spell casting, and her mother to potion making. Adeline was the last of her small and broken family left.
"I'm sure the usual Black Family rites and ceremony will suffice, Grandfather," She found herself replying stiffly. Her simple response coming out a tad sharper than it was meant too.
"There's of course the matter of where you will be staying," Her other Grandfather Pollux had brought up stiffly after watching her keenly with his black pits for eyes. He had been silent up until that moment, which wasn't uncommon for the man of few words. "—since your father is ...unavailable."
Out of everything being spoken thus far, both around her and to her, this was the one that ripped apart the threads keeping Adeline's composure in place. It didn't matter that most of the conversations up to this point had been carefully working around the mentions of her now-made orphan status, it was the simple fact that they skirted around the edges. They were trimming the hedges of her situation with safety scissors rather than proper clipper's found in a gardener's shed.
It hurt more that they pretended everything was the same, because it wasn't. Adeline had lost her mother—she was by all rights a child with not a single member left of her small family besides her distant maternal family members who were all claimed to be madder than hatters. All of whom she hadn't seen or spoken to since before her first year of school because of differences of opinions with her mother.
Adeline knew that a woman ought to never speak out of turn, or wear her emotions out for all to see—it was improper and unladylike. Her tutor and house elf had drilled the lessons into her over and over again, while her mother often coddled her in the early mornings before either had arrived. Her mother had admired that most about her—her unwillingness to pretend to be someone she wasn't, to be emotional, to be a child and not some cardboard cutout of what she was expected to be in society.
So her Grandfather, ignoring the situation or simply forgetting that the w family revolved and lived off of blunt truths shook her to her core. The bitter truth of the matter was that Adeline had no parents and no one to care for her, it was a bitter and horrible truth that wasn't about to change, so why ignore it? The young girls denial faded to a tight lipped fury in seconds, as her mind whirled over and spat out such facts.
Adeline Black lived and breathed logic, it was a forever constant in her life. Hence, why it shouldn't have come to a surprise when she spoke with nothing but logic and anger fuelling her tone. Adeline may have been raised as a proper pureblood heiress, but she was still a young girl. Holding many cards and emotions to her chest that on occasion bubbled over in her brewing cauldron. She wasn't perfect like she was so often written about in letters amongst the women and Head of House Black, but flawed just like the rest of her family. Even if her flaws were much darker and deeper, and admittedly much harder to find than the others.
"He's dead too, you mean." Adeline replied coldly to her Grandfather Pollux. The entire room that previously had felt filled with a low hum was eerily silent as four sets of eyes bore into her in both shock and pity at her sudden outburst. "There's no sense making it sound as though he's going to start coming around. They're both dead."
Saying it out loud for the first time was the real kicker for Adeline. Suddenly the world felt much smaller, the room closing in and her hands filled with nervous and volatile energy. She hadn't had an accidental magic mishap in years since attending Beauxbatons but she wouldn't have been surprised to find herself setting the drapes on fire again at that moment. Everything felt so small and her emotions like a never ending assault of waves. Static energy fizzled and cracked along her hands as she worked desperately to keep it concealed. She would not react, Adeline would not cause a scene. Her mother wouldn't have approved of it.
Her mother—Merlin be all merciful and true, her mother, she would never see her again, would she? Never taste her tea and herbal mixtures on early mornings, or banter with her about school subjects and the latest inventions in the potions guild. Adeline would never hear her laugh at some terrible and dark humoured joke, or chastise Mipsy for refusing their entry into the kitchen after that one mishap with the pancake batter. Adeline wanted to scream and cry in that instant and it took all of her willpower to keep it concealed, to stay in control until she was able to pull away from her overcrowding relatives.
The young heiress wanted to go home— to Mipsy and her nagging of dirt covered robes, to her Maman's gentle humming when she brewed, and the sound of gnomes arguing in the gardens. But she didn't have a home, not anymore. Just like she didn't have a mother, or father or even the bloody house elf. Adeline was all alone, and suddenly it wasn't just the room that felt so small.
With her absent presence to the ongoing discussions she was brought back to her Uncle monologging some likely rehearsed speech on loss, and carefully cutting around the edges of the current topic of her grief— mainly that of her lack of placement and housing. Adeline would not lie to herself in thinking her Uncle cared for his now-dead sister. Cassiopeia Black, her mother, had always been nothing but a wayward sibling whom he couldn't help but think of as a thorn in his side. With her gone, he was able to fully take advantage of his station as the third sibling of Pollux and Irma, seeing as Cassiopeia, whom was the true-born third child, was dead.
"...we will wait to discuss the impending arrangements on Adeline's living situation."
"Why?" Adeline cut in, her voice loosing the fire it had previously held and ignoring the shouts in her cranium from her long ago lady lessons. A proper heiress should never back talk, interrupt or question an authority holding member of it's Noble House. It is not the heiress or woman's position to question their thoughts or actions—they are to follow, no matter how much they disagreed of the actions. "—My mother being dead isn't going to change within an hour or a few days. Nor is my father's, he's been dead for years now."
Her Uncle Cygnus sighed as he attempted to console in a voice that was entirely unrecognizable. It was almost soft, if ignoring the slightly irritated undertone that followed the phrasing of her birth given name. The younger girl truly didn't know what to make of it—besides the feeling of nails being dragged along a dusted chalkboard.
"Adeline..."
"You don't need to treat me as if I'm breakable!" She remarked instinctively, her hands balling to fists in her lap, and her nails digging deeply into her palms. The pain of her nails into her palms kept her grounded. It helped stiffen her resolve to finish speaking her mind when the adults in the room levelled her with more of their patronizing glares. The chalkboard screeching wasn't going away, even when she pulled her eyes from her Uncle's strange gaze. She needed the noises to stop before she lost all control.
"I'm a Black, for Merlin's sake. We thrive on funerals do we not?" She rhetorically remarked with an edge of humour coating her words. Adeline noticed from her peripheral as her Aunt Druella pinned her with a look of both pride, shock and a little fear, at her following exclamations.
"So let's plan the best fucking funeral around shall we?" She concluded, letting her mouth ramble onwards, spilling out a series of proposed questions that she had no heart in helping in decide. The chalkboard and the nails had disappeared, same with their horrible scratching as she prattled into.
Adeline was in pain—, insurmountable pain, and no one could fix it. Emotions weren't logical but the situation was so she moved forward on logic, pushing her tear and red rimmed eyes to that back of her mind, and the anger that was welling up like a dam in her chest, to a box to be avoided and ignored. Adeline was going to explode sooner or later that late morning, from the grief, from the pain, from the logic of knowing that her world had been flipped on it's side yet again. Just like it had in her first year and her book of memories came into existence.
Now seemed as good as a time as any in the young heiresses mind, to completely loose it. Black's were known for their tempers, for their cut and dry ideals of family and worth. Likewise, they were known for their mania, their inbred madness that flared up from time to time. Adeline never thought of herself as mad, thinking she had been on the winning side of the coin of that toss in her life. Yet, the explosion of mania manifested in that moment. When she blabbered on in half-finished thoughts fuelled by an equal mixture of grief and anger.
"How about we talk about the concluding meals of the affair? My mother always said funerals served the best sandwiches, or instead we can argue about the music in accompaniment!" She snapped, with her previously devoid tone disappearing as her pain visualized in bright red threads of magic around her fingertips and spiralled into her ringleted hair. "—Or hell, why don't we start coffin shopping!?"
The silence that fell was eerie and all consuming. With Adeline staring at her relatives with sharp eyes and a tight purse of her lips. She had said too much, spoken out of turn. Though instead of a scolding like she had expected from her Grandfather's, Uncle or Aunt, nothing followed. Nothing was heard except for the crackling of the hearth in the other room and the faint tapping of her Grandfather Arcturus' fingers on the table.
Soon enough the silence was interrupted by her Aunt hissing towards the men around the table, looking anywhere but at the young and now-orphaned girl in front of them.
"I told you we should wait."
Her Uncle Cygnus stiffened in his chair, "Druella..."
"That girl has been through enough in the past hour," Her Aunt Druella snapped impatiently, with a cold stare to all the others in room. Adeline shrunk slightly in her seat, half-expecting a scolding to come towards her soon after. Though she was swiftly surprised by her Aunt, for whom she had only ever been known as vain and self-serving, to instead stay firmly on her side by finishing, "—the least you men could give her is some empathy."
Adeline chanced a glance to her Uncle and Grandfather's to see them all either guiltily avoiding the stare of her Aunt, or looking like they had just swallowed a very bitter lemon. It was interesting to say the least, but not enough to put her at ease in the mostly unfamiliar room. Especially, when her Aunt Druella addressed her—though much softer and less stiff in tone in comparison to when she had spoke up against the men in the room.
"Adeline, darling," She spoke compassionately with an easily readable facial expression. Adeline assumed she did this in an attempt to make her feel more at ease with the woman, though it did nothing of the sort. "Why don't I escort you upstairs to get some rest? It's been a trying day for us all."
With no polite way to refuse, and anxious to get away from the dining room, slash parlour of the Black Manor, Adeline agreed shortly. Together the two women, or one girl and one lady of House Black, excused themselves from the room and left through the arched doorways into the hall. Adeline followed her Aunt closely through the winding halls and up the massive staircase, with rugs of emerald green along it's wide cases. As she went up the stairs she was greeted with many magical portraits of her ancestor's all staring down at her. Some of them whispering and gossiping, others measuring her from top to bottom with their painted stares.
Already, Adeline was wishing to be back at her own home, where everything was familiar and there were no stalker like paintings watching her every movement. It was a stupid thing to wish for though—and logically she knew it not at all possible, seeing as her home had erupted in flames earlier that morning, along with everything she had ever cherished in her short life.
Her heart strings tugged violently and painfully at the fleeting thought, before she shoved it far away from her mind, neither for the first or the last time. It would do her no good to have a breakdown with an audience, and soon enough she would be on her own to grieve—even if only for a short while.
"The girls, Bella, Narcissa and Andromeda won't be back from school for another week but I'm sure we can find other ways to keep you busy." Her Aunt Druella explained simply as they finally came to the second level of the house, and Adeline was lead down another unfamiliar hallway. Dark wooden floors still covered mostly in the same emerald carpets—though thankfully with far fewer portraits to the ones around the main staircases.
"Cygnus and I were wondering if you'd like to stay here until you're of age," Aunt Druella brought up randomly, with a flick of her wrist as they came to short stop at a white door with a silver handle. Adeline stumbled on how to approach such a sudden change in topic, or switch in tactics. "—Andromeda will be married within the summer so there'll be ample space and I know you and Narcissa used to be as thick as thieves when you were younger."
The younger of the two thought the description of her and Narcissa's closeness as children a bit over the top to say the least. Sure, they were friendly with one another and had corresponded often during the course of their Lady Lessons but they truthfully didn't have all too much in common. That's without even being up the topic of their falling out not even a year prior. Adeline was far too blunt and honest for the likes of her Aunt's youngest daughter Narcissa to truly confide or like too much. Not that she was about to let said woman know this small bit of information.
"That's very kind of you, Aunt Druella." Adeline mumbled softly as her Aunt finally let them into the room with a short turn. Her blonde haired Aunt simply nodded, as if in agreement before moving to the side to let her niece see the whole of her bedroom for the time being.
"Walburga offered as well, of course," Aunt Druella prattled on as Adeline let her eyes scan the bedroom from top the bottom.
It was very plain, but beautiful in it's simplicity as well. It's colouring was far brighter compared to the rest of the house, with a muted violet shade on the walls, drapes and bedsheets a cream like white, and the other furnishings of the same dark wood as the floorboards. It was large of course, though not much more than her bedroom back home—excluding that this one had it's own private ensuite attached to it. It was nice, far more than she deserved as a sporadic and unexpected guest but she held her tongue in thanking the woman as she was still speaking about the possibility of Aunt Walburga becoming her legal guardian.
"Though, seeing as she can barely manage Sirius on a good day I thought It might be better to have you placed with us for the time being." Her Aunt Druella stated with a strange glimmer on her eye as she added on lastly, "Or until you're seventeen if that is what you choose."
Just as Adeline was about to thank her Aunt for her hospitality, and her concerns downstairs, she was quickly closing her mouth as her Aunt started speaking once again. A fleeting thought had Adeline pondering whether her Aunt loved the way her voice sounded or if she truly just liked to be the one in control at all times. Even in simple things such as conversations. Her mother had warned her along time ago of her Aunt and other relatives, mostly of their different ways of going about small matters. Adeline had never understood her mother's metaphors on being born into a snake pit, until she noticed the few signs of her Aunt's false attempts to manipulate her choices.
It was obvious that her Aunt was trying to make her pick the Black Manor as her permanent residence until she was seventeen, likely because she wanted to manipulate or control Adeline in some shape or form. Which wasn't all too surprising really, though a bit terrible of her Aunt in retrospect seeing as she had just lost her mother and home in the same day. Nonetheless, she kept her spiralling thoughts to herself, and simply listened to her Aunt Druella prattle on more and more.
"I hope you find it to your tastes." Druella stated with a soft smile, which was likely part of the act on being a caring and concerned relative— seeing as Adeline noticed the small twitch in her jaw as she uttered out the words. Thankfully, Adeline didn't have to slather the woman in thanks and gratitude towards her expected hospitality as a Lady of House Black, as her Aunt Druella soon dismissed herself from the room. "Just call Rigly should you need anything— he's the house elf that's been entrusted in your service for the time being. The rest of us will be downstairs."
The thought of anyone other than Mipsy taking care of her had Adeline's stomach writhing into knots. Still she smiled like a heiress to House Black was supposed to, and placated her Aunt got the time being.
"Of course, Aunt Druella."
Her Aunt smiled sharply, as she turned to walk out the door with a swish of her pale pink robes. It was in that moment, her eyes wandered and Adeline finally took notice of her trunk beside her bed. It was stood on it's side with the Beauxbatons crest of arms clearly displayed and waiting to be unpacked. Adeline knew it was to be stowed away in the wardrobe and closet near the bathroom on the far wall, yet she felt even more sick at the thought. This wasn't her room, this wasn't her house—she was in an unknown place and this unsettled her far more than it should have.
It didn't help that she knew her Aunt was manipulating her through materials— the far too fancy chambers she was placed in, ones saved and prepared for important guests and not sudden, drop-in relatives. The main reason she knew this was because adjacent from her wardrobe and bathroom doors was a private balcony, with the windows and glass doors covered by long drapes of light violet and cream. This was the type of room you would offer an actual Lady of Black, and established member of a Noble family—not an orphan child and heiress along many.
"Sleep well, darling." Her aunt said lastly before shutting the door with a soft click on her way out. Adeline didn't bother with a reply and instead slowly sat on the edge of her bed and let the tears slowly begin to steam. She had never been a soft crier, always loud with gasping sobs and an aching chest soon after. Her nose would run with mucus and her eyes would go a bright red some times. It was a horrible state to see her crying, she knew this— especially since her shoulder's were already beginning to shake and her eyes were already staring to burn.
Adeline began to gasp as she sobbed about her loss of home and loss of family. She wanted her Maman for not the first time that day, and likely not the last. The young Black heiress wept on the edge of her bed, rubbing at her cheeks with her hands and feeling like the room was caving in. Adeline knew she should unpack, as it was likely she was going to be called for dinner that night—but instead she cried. She cried until all her tears had left, and she was left with an aching chest, a dry throat and a burning nose.
Exhausted, she fell back on the bed, ignoring that she was still dressed in her Beauxbatons uniform of blue satin robes and white shoes. She didn't even kick of the small heels on her feet, and instead just laid over top of the covers and burrowed her head into the cream coloured pillows. Adeline fell asleep quickly, but restlessly. She thrashed most of the time she was asleep, haunted by both her past, present and future. Her dreams as Hermione morphed with that of her mother's death. She relived the pain and torture of her future selves last moments, along with the grief of her present self.
It seemed that even in her dreams she was destined to mourn.