The Lady of (New) Avalon

"Sirius!" a familiar voice shouted at her as she followed Evans back into the Common Room, still trying to think how to word a letter asking if Bella knew anything about de Mort fucking a muggleborn Auror about seventeen years ago.

"Jamie?" she answered, rather distractedly. "What's up, mate? You seem a bit..." Panicked. He seemed a bit panicked. "Has something happened?"

"You— I was worried about you!" he exclaimed, looking slightly ashamed even as he said it, which, yeah, that was a bit of an overreaction, she'd just seen him yesterday. "Er, Lily, hi," he added, running his fingers awkwardly through his messy Potter hair as he always did when he was nervous or embarrassed. "Um..."

"Potter," she said coolly, glaring at him in a don't you dare say whatever you're thinking of saying sort of way.

Aster had gotten that look several times in the past few hours but she'd just ignored it, because what was Evans going to do, sitting there in front of her muggle mum? She couldn't pretend she didn't know she was adopted and her mum had lied to her for her entire life, so she couldn't make Sni– Snape forget that she'd told her, which meant she also still remembered everything else Aster had told her, because at a certain point they'd be taking away so much context that it would be bloody obvious someone had done something to her memories, especially since she apparently knew memory charms existed.

Evans's mum — she'd said to call her Mary, though Aster would probably continue to think of her as Evans's mum — had come out of the conversation with the impression that her daughter had found religion in a way she really hadn't as a child (a religion that called the Christian god by a different name, but was still talking about what one might reasonably think could be the same consciousness)...or possibly that she was a prophet of some sort, but a relatively minor one who didn't have a giant monotheistic god talking to her in her dreams, and had to call on or pray to lesser deities like saints or whatever if she actually wanted to talk to them (which Aster was pretty sure every single Aspect she'd ever heard of would take offence to being called a lesser deity, but compared to all of Magic they were). Evans had, at one point, tried to deflect the conversation from herself by shifting it back to Aster and her family's religion, so Mrs. Evans was now kind of under the (slightly horrified) impression that the Blacks were evil devil-worshipers who sacrificed babies in unholy rituals, which was kind of amusing, even if it wasn't entirely wrong. The Dark was a bit more into madness and destruction than she understood the Christian devil to be and babies were, generally speaking, kind of shite sacrifices (she'd managed not to actually say aloud), but she was certain that the Christian devil was part of the Dark, so. Aster had come out of the whole conversation looking great, because she'd been chucked out of her devil-worshiping family for refusing to participate in their evil ways. (Suck it, Evans.)

The mention of Death Eaters and Aster's theory that one of them was Evans's sire had led to a conversation about the current state of politics, which was probably less awkward than Snape had anticipated, because Mrs. Evans already knew that there was a war of some sort going on (and at least some of the horrible things magic could do), her information was just about a decade out of date. When asked how she knew so much about all of this, Aster had at least managed not to blurt out that the cousin she mentioned kind of a lot — Bella was apparently more important in her life than she'd realised before trying to talk about literally anything to do with magic or history or politics or anything — was actually the Dark Lord's consort. At one point, Mrs. Evans had asked about Bella specifically because Aster mentioned her so often. She'd thought...Snape was going to have a fit or something when she explained that she was...sort of like a performance artist? and sort of a philanthropist and political activist. Very avant garde. Honestly, she couldn't even imagine what the closest equivalent to what Bella actually did was in the muggle world. Some sort of military position, maybe? (There wasn't even really an equivalent in upstanding society in magical world.)

Really, between that and the long and convoluted theological conversation, Aster was pretty sure Evans's mum had completely forgotten about Aster recently having been a boy. And then Evans's sister and father came home, and they'd all had to act like they hadn't just been talking about Evans being adopted and Britain being full of violent lunatics with the ability to alter laws of nature at will.

Shortly after that they'd escaped with the excuse that Aster still needed to go buy trousers, because...Snape hadn't been exaggerating when he said Mr. Evans hated him more than Jamie, and Evans thought Aster was having too much fun subtly mocking her sister's attempts to appear better-off than she obviously was, talking about her fiancé and his (impressive?) office job as a low-level manager (my Vernon's just been promoted, you see) in a company that sold drills (which Aster gathered was an electric tool of some sort). She also kept attempting to make digs at the three of them for being 'freaks' (i.e., mages) which fell incredibly flat, because who cared what their prospects might be in 'the real world'? Not to mention, it should have been obvious just looking at Aster that she was the social better of the Evanses in every possible way — magical and muggle fashions were very different, but even if she didn't quite fit Petunia's expectations for posh, anyone with social ambitions should know that perfectly fitted bespoke clothing was always an indicator of class, and the entire House of Black had a very refined never done a hard day's work in our lives sort of beauty about them.

"I'll leave you two to catch up," Evans said, extracting herself from the conversation a bit more neatly than they'd managed to get out of her parents' house. (They never had gotten to the whole television-watching part of the visit, which Aster found slightly disappointing.) "Since Potter apparently starts pining around the twenty-four hour mark."

"What, no! I wasn't pining! I was worried!"

"Just keep telling yourself that, Potter!" Evans called over her shoulder heading toward what appeared to be an informal prefects' meeting in a relatively secluded corner. It kind of looked like Remus was in some sort of trouble, arguing with them over...she didn't know, they had anti-eavesdropping spells up, and she was too far away to hear anyway.

"Is Moony okay?" she asked.

"What? Yes, he's fine, he just decided that he wants to resign as a prefect because of...you know, everything."

"What? I didn't mean— None of it was his fault!"

"Yeah, well, you do a lot of shite you didn't mean, don't you?" Jamie obviously still wasn't entirely over...pretty much everything that had happened this term. Aster cringed slightly. James gave a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair again. "Sorry, sorry. I didn't mean it like that, I just— Mum sent me a letter when you didn't show up to McKinnon's—" Shite! She'd completely forgotten about the mind healer, and the appointment she was supposed to have had today. Oops. "And I couldn't find you, I've been worrying about you all day, and..."

"And what? This is what happens when we don't sleep in the same dorm, Jamie — we occasionally don't see each other for more than a few hours at a time."

James glared at her sarcasm, but seriously, why did he think she hadn't wanted to leave? Kicking her out of the dorm changed a hell of a lot more than her becoming a girl! "Look, can we...sit? And, you know, talk?"

Because apparently you needed to formally ask permission to have a conversation with girls? "No, come on," she said, grabbing him by the shoulder and marching him toward the portrait hole.

"What— Sirius! Where are we—"

"We're going for a walk, or flying, maybe. I'm tired of sitting around talking. D'you know, I spent all bloody day with Evans, and Sni– Snape, and her bloody mum, yammering on about bloody theology and magic theory dragonshite?" Not that she didn't kind of enjoy dancing circles around the truth, but she couldn't stand the thought of more sitting. "And last night we missed dinner because— Did you know the girls' dorm is like, split up? I mean, the seventh- and fifth-years' look pretty much like ours, but Evans and Marley and everyone, they put up these bloody huge sheets and—"

"When've you been in the girls' dorms?" James interrupted.

Aster snorted at his accusatory tone. "Bloody hell, I don't know, just you know, whenever! Some birds like a bed to shag on, occasionally — seems a bit classier than an empty classroom, you see — and you know I wasn't about to bring them back to our room, you fuckers are complete slobs!"

"Well, yeah, fine, that makes sense, but how'd you get up the stairs?"

What kind of bloody stupid question was that? "I...walked?"

"Don't be a fucking wanker, Siriu— Er, sorry. I mean, don't be dense!" Aster scowled, though not at the insult — why the hell shouldn't he call her a fucking wanker if she was being one? (That she wasn't wasn't really the point.) "Boys can't go up the girls' stairs! It turns into, like, a bloody slide, doesn't it?"

"Well, only if you're planning on doing something ungentlemanly." Technically, if you thought you shouldn't be allowed up, felt guilty and uncomfortable about entering a girls-only area, or were planning on doing something that was going to make other people uncomfortable, like pranking them or spying on them in their underwear.

"And shagging the girls silly doesn't count?" he said, as though he didn't believe her, honestly!

Aster rolled her eyes at him, leading him off toward the Scrying Tower, because much as she might prefer to wander the grounds or the edge of the woods Jamie was weird about going outside without shoes. "Not as long as they finish first. Obviously." This was why James never got laid, she was sure of it. Well, that and his unreasonable obsession with Evans — though, come to think of it, he might appreciate the fact that she'd never do him, because it meant there was no pressure to actually put out. "Anyway, the girls've put up these giant sheets and enchanted them so they all have their own space because, you know, Ellie and Erin have been shagging for years, and apparently Tina snores and, get this, apparently no one else wants to sleep in the same room as Evans!"

"What? Why not?"

"Why do you think, James?"

"I wouldn't've asked if I knew, would I?"

"Evans is a fucking crazy person. You know this. I've only told you about a million times, now!"

"She is not!"

"You are so fucking deluded! She'd be the first person to tell you that she is, because she doesn't want to have anything to fucking do with you, because you can't see that she's a fucking crazy person!"

"That doesn't even make any sense, Sirius."

"Yes, it does. Perfect prefect, muggleborn golden girl Evans is a bloody act. She's not even really a muggleborn!" James pulled an expression of outrage at her, but she talked over him. "And no, this is not about the whole Evans is a fucking traditionalist thing, or the way she goes out of her way to act like a normal witch, I mean she's literally not muggleborn. She's adopted."

"What?!" Jamie stopped dead, half-way up a hidden staircase. "But I've heard her talk about her muggle sister before!"

"Yeah, well, she didn't know, did she? Just found out today."

"Fuck, is she okay?"

"Are you okay? First you're all worried about me, and now—"

"I'm fine! You're the one who skipped dinner last night and then disappeared like you were off sulking again! And yeah, is she okay is a perfectly normal response to finding out that one of your friends just found out she's adopted!"

"Oh, fuck off, it's not your job to watch me and make sure I fucking eat. I'm not that fucking fragile, moron! I told you, I'd tell you if I needed you to listen to me. And even if I don't, apparently it's pretty fucking obvious when I start to fall off the deep end — ask Pete if you can't tell, he spotted it! And Evans is fucking furious with her mother for lying to her about being adopted for the last sixteen years, but aside from that her nonexistent feelings are perfectly fine." Then, as an afterthought, she added, "And you two aren't friends."

Honestly, she wasn't entirely sure Evans really had friends. Sni– Snape was more like a follower (albeit one who snarked back while doing exactly what she told him to — mark another tally for the Lily de Mort theory, seriously, she needed to send that letter, she was sure she wasn't going to be able to sleep until she had), and yeah, she did hang out with Pandora, and she and Cassie were...kind of a regular thing? maybe? But Aster was pretty sure Evans liked hanging out with Pandora because she was just so fucking placid it was impossible to offend or disturb her, and all Evans and Cass really had in common was their love of running around in the Forest shagging and riding unicorns. Honestly, Aster didn't think Cassie would really like the real Evans much more than Jamie would.

"We are—" Jamie began, before reality overtook his offended pride. "Okay, fine, maybe we're not, but that doesn't mean you can go around acting like she doesn't have feelings, Sirius! Finding out you're adopted is a big deal — are you sure—"

"Yes, James, you fucking prat. She's fine. Even if she weren't a bloody psychopath, she's not the sort of girl to go cry into her cat because, surprise, her mum was actually an Auror and she's dead now, but who gives a fuck, because she never actually met the woman."

"Her mother was an Auror? Who? Would we have heard of her?"

"Well, I hadn't. Matilde Harrison, muggleborn — Missus Evans was her sister. She was tortured into catatonia back in Sixty-One, probably by de Mort. She was investigating the Knights of Walpurgis, I figure they made a fucking example of her."

"What? But, what about Lily's father? Did they kill him, too, or something?"

"No idea," Aster lied. She didn't even have to try to tell him to know that James wouldn't believe her if she told him Evans's father was probably a Death Eater — most likely Lord Snakefucker himself. ...Though, assuming Evans's mother wasn't actually a snake, that did raise questions about why he'd been raping her in the first place, she obviously wouldn't have been his type...

Whatever, bad train of thought. Focus on Jamie, Aster!

"I should... I should try to talk to her, or something, just to make sure..."

"Just to make sure I'm not having you on about her being perfectly fine? Don't. She won't appreciate it. She especially won't appreciate it if you go implying that she should be feeling something other than rather annoyed and making her put on some sort of vaguely-upset-but-pretending-not-to-be-with-enough-realistic-looking-false-slips-to-imply-it's-not-an-act act."

Jamie made an inarticulate noise of frustration, bypassing the hidden stair that led to Aster's favourite tower in favour of a nearby balcony. "I don't suppose it ever occurred to you that maybe it's really not an act?!"

"Nope." He made the noise again, hands waving now as well. They were about two exchanges away from actually screaming at her for insulting his True Love, she expected. "Look. James. The girl you are in love with doesn't exist. She's a character. A mask. A part Evans plays because she's expected to."

"Not everyone is you, Sirius!"

No fucking shite? "Most people aren't me, James! This isn't me projecting or whatever, this is me telling you you're in love with a fucking fiction! I've spent more time talking to Evans in the past twenty-six hours than you have in your entire life, and I'm telling you the real Lily Evans — the Evans who enjoys being nemeses but threatened to kill me if I didn't drop my vendetta against her and Sniv– Snape so they can spend all their time harassing the baby Death Eaters; the Evans who managed to wrangle a spot as a bloody anchor in the Samhain ritual and dragged me through a fucking adder stone today; the Evans who—" She cut herself off, because, well, probably shouldn't go telling Jamie that Evans talked to Magic in her dreams. Even if he did believe her, he probably wouldn't take it well. Not that she wanted him to take it well, but it would probably be breaking their truce if she started just telling people that Evans was a fucking black mage, or so close it really made no fucking difference. "—who's been friends with Severus fucking Snape since they were five and goes all glowy-eyed when she's angry and seduces people to ruin their friendships and likes it rough enough to leave marks — is not the girl you're in love with, and would, in fact, scare the fucking shite out of you!"

James actually moved as though he was going to throw a punch at her, before apparently abruptly realising that she was female, now and hitting girls was just not on. "Sirius, I swear to God, I'm trying not to hurt you, here, but if you don't lay off her—"

"Evans — the real Evans — would fit right in with my family. I wouldn't be at all shocked to find out that her sire was actually a Black," or the bloody Dark Lord, "and if you want to take a swing, go ahead, but that doesn't make it any less true!"

"I'm not going to hit a girl, Sirius!"

"You said you weren't going to treat me like a girl, James!"

"It's not that— You're fucking tiny, okay? It'd be like punching a second-year!"

She belted him in the stomach, and when he doubled over elbowed him in the nose. She didn't hear a crunch, but she was pretty sure he'd be bleeding, which was exactly what she was going for. Sending him to Pomfrey with a broken nose would probably be a bit much.

"Christ, Sirius, what the fuck!"

"I'd still be a second-year who could kick your fucking arse, you sexist prick! I'm trying to help you, here! Evans is not the girl you think she is. She's not just playing hard-to-get, she really doesn't like you!"

"I think you broke my fucking nose, you violent little shite!"

A grin twitched at her lips. That was much better. Normal James Potter reaction. No more of that but you're a girl shite.

"I did not, don't be thick." She hopped up on the balcony railing — a perfectly flat, six-inch-wide stone balustrade, there was really no cause for the slightly-scared, horrified resignation on Jamie's face (resigned because he was well aware that asking her not to stand somewhere that she might fall seventy-odd feet if she lost her balance would have no effect whatsoever, they'd had that conversation before) — pacing the ten meter arc from one end to the other. "Look. You don't believe me. Fine. Just, come to Samhain this year, you can see for yourself—"

"I dunno, Pads," Jamie said thickly, sinking to the floor with his back against the wall, prodding at his nose. It was already swelling, and he was going to have a stellar pair of black eyes in a couple of hours, but she stood by it not being broken. "I'm... It's just...not my thing, you know? The whole Powers thing. And besides, it's a Slytherin thing, I don't want to just...show up."

"It's not just a Slytherin thing. I'm going, aren't I? And the whole point is Evans is actually part of the ritual this year, so obviously she'll be there." Probably quite a few others, too — Samhain and Walpurgis were pretty much open secrets, anyone who wanted to come was welcome.

"Well, yeah, but you're...you know, and she's muggleborn, or muggle-raised, at least, I don't think she really—"

"Don't you dare say she doesn't understand, James." She ignored the awkwardly avoided but you're a Black.

"Well, I don't think she does!"

"The people who organise this? They take it seriously. She's one of the bloody anchors, okay? That means she's a major focal point for the ritual, directing the power they call and giving it purpose, channeling it into the shape the ritual provides, giving it form. She knows what she's doing. They wouldn't let her if she didn't. You're the one who thinks this is completely ridiculous, superstitious nonsense."

"There's really no proof, Sirius, you know that!"

"Yeah, well, tell that to the fucking Dark, James. Tell that to the kind of magic that can take you apart down to your fundamental identity, change it, and put you back together again on a bloody whim, just because you've offended it, and it wants to see you suffer through the metamorphosis — which hurts like fucking hell, by the way."

"Wait, what? You mean— You don't mean that's— That's not how you got turned into a girl, is it? I thought you said..."

Er...fuck. She hadn't actually meant to tell him that. "Well, I wasn't going to go around telling people the Dark decided to punish me for breaking the family Covenant with it by turning me into a fucking girl, was I?"

"Er..."

"NO, James. The answer is, no, I wasn't, because that's black magic. Real black magic, not the soft-core kiddie rituals we're allowed to do here at school. Gods walking the earth, meddling in the lives of chosen mortals black magic. And I know you think I'm insane, okay, and yes, I definitely am, but I'm right about this. The Powers are not a delusion, Magic has its own consciousness, and Evans is a hell of a lot more aware of that than you. She does understand what's going on with the rituals, on a level you, quite frankly, are never going to get. But it doesn't really matter if you get it or not — this is important to her. If you really want to have any chance with her at all, you should go, and try not to be an ignorant, patronising fuck about it."

Not, of course, that Aster thought Jamie attending Samhain would help him get into Evans's pants. It would probably just make him a little uneasy about wanting her. Depending on what this surprise was she had planned for the Sacrifice of Feeling, though, it might be enough to shatter the illusion that Prefect Evans was anything other than an act. There was really no down-side.

Either Jamie was trying not to be an ignorant, patronising fuck right now, or he thought Evans (and his complete lack of a relationship with her) was more important than the Powers, it really could go either way. "Really, Sirius? You've been on speaking terms with her for all of one day, and suddenly you're a bloody expert?"

She lowered herself carefully to sit with her own back against the wall as well, one foot dangling on the inside of the balcony so she wouldn't forget she was on a bloody railing and tip over and die, the other pulled up so she could rest her head on her knee. "Jamie, darling. Duckie. Love. I've been on speaking terms with her for all of one day, and I've realised how important this is to her. That probably means it's pretty fucking important, yes? And you don't have to be an expert at girls or relationships or whatever to know that if something is important to the bird you're trying to woo, you damn well act like it's fucking important! You don't act like they're mad or befuddled or have had their poor little muggle-raised heads turned by the crazy, deep-magic cultists out to subvert their capacity for reason and rationality."

"I've never said she was..."

"Oh, come off it, you didn't have to say it. Doesn't mean you weren't thinking it."

"Well, yeah, but when you put it like that..."

"...it's easier to understand why she thinks you're a fucking toerag?"

"Well, a bit, yeah, kind of. But it's not— I didn't mean it like—"

"Mate. Just stop. Come to the ritual, actually see her in her element for once, instead of pretending to be something she's really, really not, maybe attempt to remove your head from your sphincter long enough to say something that isn't an outright insult to her religion or her intelligence—"

"Ugh, fine, I'll come, shut up. And would you fix my fucking nose already? I think it might actually be broken!"

"Sorry, never learned a spell to fix an ugly mug."

"Sirius..."

Aster sniggered, flicking off a charm to reduce swelling and bruising. "You really should learn to do healing charms on yourself, you know. Basic first-aid, at least. I mean, you haven't changed your mind about becoming an Auror since yesterday, have you?"

"Ha. Bloody. Ha." The effect was obvious immediately, his voice much clearer.

"No, seriously," she said, digging a pack of cigarettes out of the (tiny) pocket of her new, girl-shaped jeans and lighting one with a snap of her fingers. (She loved that trick, so worth all the hours she'd spent practicing it.) "Remy's resigning as prefect? What else have I missed?"

Jamie sighed. "Not that much..."

Yeah, she'd be the judge of that, thanks very much. "Start talking."