Motivations and Secrets
Six months before 10/31/1981
I’d found myself trapped in another endless dinner party.
Elves had been serving courses since four o’clock, and showed no sign of stopping.
The clock had just chimed once more, midnight crawling towards us.
Just two more hours of this hell.
Bellatrix Lestrange won’t stop cackling as her dear husband recounts some horrific murder he’d been sanctioned to commit by the Dark Lord.
Severus had left hours ago, pleading a reprieve to work on whatever deathly potion he’d been ordered to brew.
Only he and I know he’ll really be checking in with Dumbledore.
It had only soured my mood further. He was always walking in both worlds. I hadn’t seen any lions for months.
Lily and James are in hiding. Severus had deigned to share that much.
“Fawley,” a voice breaks my concentration.
I glare at Malfoy, irritated.
“Yes?”
“Care to weigh in?”
On what?
I shake my head and take a deep swallow of my wine. It’s terrible, but it would be worse to weigh in on whatever pointless Ministry mandate they are complaining about.
“She’s much too busy plotting ways to kill mudbloods,” Bellatrix screeches.
What I wouldn’t give to rip out her vocal cords.
“The Dark Lord is pleased with my contributions to the cause,” I fix her with a stony glare. “Can you say the same?”
If I weren’t a better witch than her, Bellatrix would probably already be across the table, strangling me with her bony fingers.
“His approval shifts like the wind.”
Crouch. Standing at the door.
I ignore him. He shouldn’t have said it. He’s always been an idiot.
“Shall we retire to the sitting room?” Narcissa Malfoy asks, her words tense. She’s smart to end the conversation now.
Apparently things can get worse.
The men typically move to the parlor to smoke and drink, while the women move into a sitting room filled with portraits of judgy witches, each with a comment on our clothes, our faces, our hair.
“I’m afraid I must head home. Much to be done now that the school year has ended.” I stand up.
I’ve been tasked with recruitment this year. Something I had earned by allegedly slaughtering four muggles in their beds last month.
Dumbledore had helped me fake the dark act of tearing down an entire family of muggles. Just like the other dozen victims he’d created for my cover.
Guilt makes me choke.
It had been on the front page of the Daily Prophet. Not my part in their deaths, just the rumors of it being perpetrated by allies of the Dark Lord.
Lily must have seen it. I haven’t heard from her since she discovered my alleged faith in the Dark Lord. Nearly two years. She has a son I haven’t met.
“A whole new pack of brats to educate,” Valeria says quietly.
She’d been drowning since she’d seen her first death. Not quite witch enough to cope with a man who wants to wipe out half of wizard kind.
Ignoring her, so as to not get myself into any trouble, I stalk down the hall towards the grate.
“Connie,” a voice follows me into the hall.
Turning, Narcissa Malfoy is standing frozen in front of me.
“I don’t know if Lucius has told you. We are having a birthday ball for Draco next month.”
A birthday party. In the middle of a war.
Pureblood society had barely seen a hiccup in social events and Narcissa Malfoy was the reason why.
“Narcissa, of course, I’ll be there. He’s grown so much already,” I say, a real smile on my face.
It would be stupid to miss it. A one-year-old’s birthday party is hardly a clandestine meeting, but all of the Death Eaters will be there.
6/5/1981
Draco Malfoy will grow up with every single thing he could ever want, except good parents.
The party resembled a cocktail hour more than a birthday party. The decorations were green and silver, just like Slytherin.
I had been on edge since I’d arrived. My gift, a pair of dragonhide baby shoes, had been added to a mountain of gifts.
He’s here. Lord Voldemort. Honored guest.
“You look like you are going to be sick.”
I spin towards the voice, more than ready to jinx someone.
Regulus.
“At least it will blend with the decor.”
He smirks, looking so much like his brother it makes my teeth hurt.
When he offers me a glass of firewhiskey, I return his pleased look.
“Seen the little tyke?” he runs his finger around the edge of his glass.
I nod.
Draco had been running around chasing a house-elf wearing a truly awful pillowcase.
“I hear you went on an assignment for the Dark Lord,” Reg fishes.
“Where did you hear that?”
“The noble house of Black has its connections.”
“That's what the inbreeding will do,” I can’t help but bite out.
“Bitch.”
I laugh.
“You act so high and mighty. Last of your line and all that rubbish. You are just like the rest of us. Standing in line, hoping for a hand out from a man who couldn’t care less if we live or die.”
I stare at him. Anyone else would cut him down where he stands for those words.
Drunk. He’s drunk. That is the only explanation. Because Regulus Black is about as close to a mudblood sympathizer as I am to being a fan of the Kenmare Kestrals.
He isn’t a spy. I would know. Sev would have told me.
“You are a fool. Perhaps you should go sober up,” I whisper.
He gets a look in his eye like he knows. Like I’ve just failed a test. But he doesn’t go for his wand. He just holds his glass up and smiles sideways.
Christmas 1972
I am not going home for Christmas. My ancestral home is beautiful and I’m sure the elves wish I were, but I can’t stand to spend it alone. Luckily, there are more people staying behind this year than last.
“It is often praised as the event of the season,” Valeria is tittering with her friends about some party in one of the noble houses.
“You are so lucky to have been invited.”
“It’s only for the purest of families,” she brags.
I roll my eyes and focus on my breakfast. Only a week left of classes before the break. Before I’ll have our rooms to myself.
“You’d hate it.”
I look up. Regulus Black is speaking to me.
“Sorry?”
“It’s my mother’s annual Decennium celebration. Stuffy witches and wizards complaining about ministry policy.”
“It can’t be so boring,” I say, taking in his pale face. He looks tired. Like he hasn’t slept in days.
Perhaps he isn’t looking forward to going home.
“Trust me. She’ll hate it.”
“And then she’ll come back and gush all about it.”
He smiles. It looks more charming on him than his brother. More genuine.
“Probably. You could come if you wanted,” he offers.
“To the party you just told me would be awful?”
“I’ll take that as a no.”
“Won't your brother be there?”
He nods and glances over his shoulder to where the eldest Black brother is sitting with his friends.
“If he can last until then. He and my mother don’t exactly get along.”
“That’s awful. And you?”
“I’m the apple of my mother’s eye,” he says, his voice strained.
“Family. Can’t live with them. Can’t live without them,” I complain.
He looks at me with wide eyes, as if remembering my entire family is dead.
“You played really well in the game against Ravenclaw,” he changes the subject.
“Thanks.”
I go back to my food, fine with returning to eavesdropping on my classmates.
We’d smashed Ravenclaw, mostly because Slytherin had no problem playing dirty.
“Connie,” Regulus says, setting his goblet down without even drinking from it.
“Yes?”
“Do you celebrate Christmas?”
“Sort of. The home where I lived as a child celebrated as best they could.”
“Muggles?”
I nod, suddenly curious about his attitudes towards muggles.
Neither of us continues down that path of conversation.
Regulus is strange. He seems both terrified and excited to go home. I look over his shoulder at his brother.
When I was growing up, I would have done anything to have a sibling.
I can’t imagine not talking to them.
Once Hogwarts empties, everything becomes more fun. Sev and Lily have both gone home, but Marlene and Dorcas had convinced their parents to let them stay.
We spend Christmas Eve hidden in the dueling room, practicing spells we aren’t supposed to know and eating contraband candies from London. Bosky had smuggled in more food and decorations than could fill the entire castle.
Remus Lupin has stayed behind again as well. He looked exhausted at the beginning of the break so I sneak him a crate of chocolate frogs and we spend a few hours discussing muggle literature.
I feel a bit like a child playing at adult, but the freedom is exquisite.
The Spring will bring more learning and more balancing. This year has been incredible. I've made friends and learned of my family tree. I've succeeded in ways I couldn't have dreamed growing up. I may not be celebrating the new year with the Blacks at the event of the year, but I will spend it with those I care about.