Damn it, Evans!
I really should have realised, then, that it was only a matter of time until I came back to the fold. When I remembered how much I love being in an actual fight, how absolutely right it felt to be out on the training field — heart racing, body and magic pushed to their limits, everything sharper and more present because you're in danger, Aster. The sheer joy of unrestrained violence and not trying to be anything other than dangerous, no pretence, just— I know it's weird to consider being in a bloody, no-holds-barred (at least on my side) practice fight to be relaxing, but in a way it is, and I'd really needed that afternoon, it had been years since I'd really had a chance to unwind like that.
When we finally called it quits I was battered and bleeding and trembling with exhaustion, but I actually felt like I could face going back to school and seeing James; like maybe, yes, I was being silly, refusing to let Evans heal my back; like I'd finally regained a sense of equilibrium I hadn't really realised I was missing until I found it. A different perspective, from which it was easier to see that I was making everything needlessly complicated.
It took a couple more days for me to really get it, though. Days which I spent, for the most part, bearing witness to other people's lives being ruined, or else intentionally burnt to the ground, sacrificed for the sake of a clean break between one life and the next. It was a very strange time for my new little group of friends, wherein things seemed to go horribly wrong and also kind of opportunistically right for them in the same way they had been for me for months by that time.
Days which I also spent doing a fair bit of introspective navel-gazing, between emergencies. I really, really hate mind-healers, you see. If all I needed to do to get out of seeing one was stop hating myself, then you could damn well bet I was going to accept that reattuning your magic doesn't actually reattune your personality or the sum of your life's experiences and choices (ie, I was still the dark witch I'd been raised), and get the fuck over it.
Being dark, I realised, didn't mean that I had to support de Mort — dark equals Death Eaters, light equals Light was a dichotomy which had seemed much firmer and non-negotiable before I was encouraged to join the Light. Essentially Bella had given me permission not to become a Death Eater, which meant I didn't have to run as far and as fast as possible in the opposite direction in order to not feel like I was in danger of being drawn into the Cause. Well, that and Evans's stupid talking about why don't the Dark do something about it, then, if they don't like Bella killing kids got into my head, started making me think that maybe I could forge a third path for myself, rather than try and fail to live up to the moral standards set by the Light (and hate myself for it) or embrace the wanton destruction and murder that was Bella's idea of fun.
And if there was anything that afternoon out on the training field demonstrated (other than that I am an idiot with no awareness of my physical limits, and a habit of conveniently forgetting how much being injured actually hurts when the adrenaline fades), it was that I was so much happier when I wasn't fighting tooth and nail against both nature and nurture, it wasn't even funny.
Friday morning saw the girls back at school, ignoring sidelong stares from their housemates as Evans dragged Aster to the far end of the Ravenclaw table to eat with Snape. She was doing a very good job of pretending she didn't even notice the curious watchers. Aster, on the other hand, was too sore to care if anyone knew where they'd disappeared off to and why, or not. Not just her back, though that was still terribly stiff and tender — she'd been feeling less shite enough about herself she'd caved and let Evans (mostly) heal her when she'd finally stopped moving and realised exactly how much worse she'd made it running and twisting and being thrown into the ground like a bloody idiot — but also every single muscle in her legs (too much running and crouching after too long not doing anything really) and her left wrist and shoulder especially (the sword was, in hindsight, perhaps a bad choice), and a scattering of bruises and scrapes and similarly tender, recently-healed spots where there had been slashes and burns on her arms and chest. And one tiny little cut through her right eyebrow which she purposefully hadn't healed, because she thought it would look badass if it left a scar. (Evans thought this was ridiculous.)
Cassie Lovegood plonked herself down across from them, throwing an arm around Snape, who shrugged her off with a disgusted glare Aster was quickly coming to recognise as meaning, how can you possibly be this conscious, this early in the day? Cassie gave him a sunny, Lovegood grin. "Love you, too, Sev. Hey, Lily. Black. You look like shite."
"I feel like shite, Cassie. Next time I think running around playing war games with Bella sounds like fun, remind me that's a bad idea?"
Evans snorted. "I did. At least twice. You said, noted, and ran off to do it anyway."
"Yeah, well, more forcefully. Like, maybe stun me or something."
That actually got a tiny half-smirk from Snape, probably thinking that he'd like to volunteer to do the stunning, if (when) it became necessary. Cassie, though, frowned at her. "Well, I was going to ask where you two disappeared off to, but I guess that answers that, doesn't it. Dare I ask why you were playing games with your evil, murderous cousin? And does this have something to do with the rumours I've been hearing that Lily is secretly a Death Eater spy?"
"Who's saying I'm a spy?" Evans demanded, sounding rather affronted about it, and conveniently saving Aster from having to explain that Bella was still her favourite cousin, even if she was still completely evil. And also still didn't know the meaning of the word mercy. (Ow.)
Cassie shrugged. "People? Mostly your roommates. The baby Death Eaters started dropping hints about you being one of them, but I'm pretty sure Tina was the one who decided that must mean you're a spy."
Snape cast an anti-eavesdropping spell before elaborating, with the air of a man who wanted nothing to do with any part of this subject, and yet was bound to explain because he was the only one who could. "Evan talked to Mulciber about you and de Mort, warning him off of us, probably thought he was being helpful. But Mulciber talked to Wilkes, who couldn't keep a secret if his life depended on it, so at least ninety-five per cent of Slytherin knows."
"Well, Ravenclaw doesn't. What about you and de Mort?"
"Er..."
Evans hesitated to explain, so Aster did it for her. "He's her sire, it's this whole thing."
"...I...see. So...?"
"No, Cassie, I'm not joining the bloody Death Eaters."
"She is letting Bella adopt her, though."
"What? Why?"
"Not surprised," Snape muttered, clearly wondering how the hell it could possibly be a surprise to anyone. Because if Cassie had ever met Bella, it would have been at some dull Society thing, and Bella would have been on her best behaviour, that was how. Also, Aster was about ninety-nine per cent certain that Cassie didn't know exactly how dark Evans could be when she wasn't censoring herself. Aster really couldn't imagine Cassie would be willing to speak to her, let alone blow off steam with her out in the Forest if she did. Granted, Cassie was one of the more tolerant light people around, super dedicated to her no using dark magic rule, but not all holier than thou about it. Aster just couldn't see her being okay socialising with someone who didn't actually mind that Bella killed innocent children on occasion, just knew she was supposed to and (usually) remembered to act accordingly.
"It seemed like a good idea at the time?" Evans offered, which was just—
"Hey, that's my line!" Well, Bella's, but.
"We can talk about it later, Cassie," Evans said, dismissing Aster's objection without dignifying it with a response. "Right now, we should talk about what we're doing about Potions."
Snape gave her an exasperated sigh. "What about Potions?"
"Aster can't work with the king of the toe-rags anymore."
"Why not?"
"Because he broke a promise to her and thereby kind of broke her, which is why we weren't here yesterday. He's dead to her, and not allowed to talk to her on pain of me poisoning him. And also, because I said so."
"You'd better not be asking me to work with him instead," Snape said, glaring at her over his coffee mug.
"Well, he thinks I'm an evil necromancer, so yes, it's probably better if you work with him than if I do."
"I'm not sure that logic follows. In fact, if he thinks you're an evil necromancer, that's even more reason for you to work with him. He won't be hitting on you, and if he gets too annoying, you can threaten to sic Cerberus on him or something, and he'll actually believe you and shut up."
"But Sev..."
"No, I'll work with Black, we have a system."
"You have a system?"
"Yes, as of Monday. I do all the brewing, she touches nothing and writes the lab report. Works spectacularly." He said that sarcastically, but it actually had worked out well. Snape's penmanship was borderline illegible, and she did know all the theory shite she was supposed to, she just didn't have the patience to actually brew potions. "Potter can't be trusted not to touch anything. In fact, he hates me and knows I can't kill him by looking at him funny so he'd probably purposefully bugger up any potion on which we might have the misfortune to collaborate. Therefore, you should work with him."
Before Evans could come up with a response to such a supremely logical argument (other than pouting at him and whining, but, Se-ev, he's such an arse!), the post arrived, thoroughly distracting her.
"Is that from Reggie?" Aster knew it was, she recognised his handwriting. "What's it say?"
"That he's sorry he's been an arse to me for the past four years...in about ten times as many words. Your brother's a pretentious git, you know that?"
"Er...yeah," she agreed absently, skimming through the letter which had been dropped on her own plate. Dorea, it seemed, was somewhat concerned about her. Surprise, surprise. Also, very upset about Bella asking Arcturus to remove Aster from her care. Also, not surprising. It was kind of surprising that she was asking Aster whether she wanted the Potters to carry out the threat she'd made back in August to drag Arcturus over the coals in front of the Wizengamot, or if this should just be treated as Bella being petulant. Mostly because, well, the latter, obviously. At least, she thought it was obvious?
Her birthday was literally in two weeks, anyway, Bella and Arcturus's opinions about where she ought to sleep and who she ought to associate with were functionally irrelevant at this point even by outsiders' standards. Also, funny as it might be to see the look on her face if Aster were to testify before their peers that Walburga had used the Cruciatus on her, she didn't actually think Wally deserved to spend the next fifty years in Azkaban (or however long it took for her to die) just for treating Aster like shite as a kid. (Ten years, maybe, but.) There were other things Walburga (and the entire House) should be condemned for — they might be able to get away with killing the occasional muggle, but subsuming their souls was a far more heinous act in the eyes of the public — but that included Aster, so obviously she wasn't going to go telling anyone about those. Besides, she really, really couldn't stay with the Potters over hols anymore.
She should probably explain that to Dorea, she realised.
She'd assumed Bella would have, but then, it was entirely possible Dorea hadn't believed her. So it would probably be necessary for Aster to explain that Bella might be being a bit...overly antagonistic about it (Bella was overly antagonistic about pretty much everything), but she wasn't really over-reacting. That Aster actually agreed that she really shouldn't ever talk to James again — that even just seeing him, across the common room or when they'd come into the Hall for breakfast just now, made her remember how worthless he thought she was, and that was...not good. She hadn't really thought about how she was going to deal with Potions, maybe skip today, and go beg Slughorn to let her switch sections at his office hour? (Though just taking notes on whatever Snape did for the rest of the year and pretending that she had a mysterious blind spot two feet to Evans's left worked too.)
She had thought about what she should tell Remus about tomorrow night, probably far too much — started and burned about four different letters now, since every time she'd seen him since she'd gotten back last night, he'd been with James... He had to understand, right, that it wasn't about him, she'd love to go out to the Shack and pal around with Moony, it was just...James. Even if he was Prongs, he was still James.
"Alright, Sev?" Cassie asked, dragging Aster away from her thoughts, which was probably for the best. He had a letter of his own in his hand, the seal... Was that Ministry purple?
"Yes, of course, it's nothing," he said (entirely unconvincingly), tucking the letter into a pocket. "Come on, we should go tell Slughorn Lily's been overcome by an intense desire to work with Potter before everyone else shows up for class."
"Don't you dare put it like that!" Lily snapped, giggling.
"If you fake a bit of glassy-eyed fascination, I can probably drop enough hints to make him suspect Potter used a love potion on you. In fact, do that, it'll be hilarious."
"Seconded," Aster noted absently, drifting along behind the two of them as they headed out toward the stairs. Not that it wouldn't be funny if Slughorn and McG started thinking James (or more likely, Pete) was brewing illicit love potions — the staring would probably really creep him out, too, because help, the evil necromancer is paying too much attention to me — she was just distracted, wondering who at the Ministry was writing to Snape, and why he didn't want them to know about it.
In deference to the fact that they now had a truce, she decided to just annoy him until he told her, rather than pick his pocket and read the letter. And wouldn't you know it, there was a nice long simmering period in the middle of the memory-enhancing elixir they were brewing today. (The best part about Slughorn's NEWT class was that they actually made useful things. Things which could be sold to underclassmen Ravenclaws for pocket money in the absence of access to the Family Vault...or just generally being poor, she'd be shocked if Snape and Evans hadn't been doing the same for years.)
"So," she began conversationally. "That letter, at breakfast..."
"Yes, you did seem rather preoccupied. Family drama, I presume?"
"No more than usual. So, yes. But I didn't mean my letter. You tried to pretend it wasn't important, but if it really weren't important, you wouldn't have been so quick to hide it. And since I can't think of anything important the Ministry might be writing to you about, you have my attention."
"Huzzah."
Aster frowned at him, then reached over and poked him in the temple. "Tell me!"
"It's none of your business, Black," he snapped, swatting her hand away.
You have no idea how annoying I can be, Snape, she thought loudly, before she began projecting a memory of a particularly bad recording of Scotland the Brave at him, very pointedly. Emphasis on the bagpipes.
He winced, throwing up occlumency barriers to keep his cheating mind mage awareness contained. "I hate you, Black. Why on Earth would you think that annoying me would make me more willing to share something personal with you?"
"Er...because I refrained from just stealing the letter and reading it myself?"
"Piss off."
"Tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me, tell—" Her voice cut off suddenly under a silent silencing jinx. She broke it almost instantly, of course, but, "Hey! That was rude!"
"How are you such a child?"
"I'm not, it's the other way around. See, children are like me, and the rest of the nobles, really, because they're all annoyingly self-absorbed little shites who think they're entitled to whatever they want, right fucking now. Most of them are just forced to grow out of it when they're faced with the reality that they can't have whatever they want, whenever they want it. I, however, am extremely accustomed to getting what I want, even if I must occasionally be terribly annoying in order to get it, so tell me." She grinned at the sour that sounds all too plausible look on his face. "Tell me, tell me, tell me—"
"Well, you can't have this. And if you keep annoying me about it, I'll ask Slughorn to switch us back. He likes me better than you, so."
"But Evans doesn't want me to have to talk to Potter, and even if she lets you stick me back with him, I can get Bella to write and ask Slughorn to let me switch sections or something, because she really doesn't want me to talk to Potter, so."
Snape glared at her for about half a second, then tore a scrap of paper out of his notebook to scribble, Lily, your new pet is annoying me, you can have it back, I'll work with Potter.
Which might have worked, actually, except, "Great, he can do the annoying for me, then." Because she was pretty sure Snape found James to be far more irritating than Aster, when she wasn't actively trying to annoy him. Evans certainly hated him more — always had, really.
"That is a risk I am willing to take," he said drily, turning to pass his note to Evans, and coincidentally giving Aster an excellent opportunity to access his left pocket.
That was Ministry purple, she immediately discovered, the crest pressed into it...the Department of Law Enforcement? Well, curiouser and curiouser. She waved the letter in his face when he turned back around, just because it amused her.
"I— You— Give that back!" he shouted, gaining the attention of most of the class.
Since Slughorn wasn't there to intervene — must've stepped out to the loo, or to satisfy a sudden pineapple craving or something — she just gave him a smug smirk. "I told you stealing it was an option."
"Lily!"
"Aster, give back the letter, and stop antagonising Sev."
"But—"
Evans's exasperated amusement immediately transformed into extreme annoyance. "Now."
Aster held her furious glare for a second or two before abruptly deciding fine, sating her curiosity wasn't worth having to share a dorm with an Evans who was genuinely miffed with her. She pouted, but let the Slytherin snatch his letter back out of her hand, entirely unread. "You're no fun, Evans," she informed her, sinking back to her stool, the very picture of dejected sulking, and after a few minutes, the rest of the class turned back to their own conversations.
She gave it another minute to ensure they'd moved on, then scribbled a note to her lab partner. What does the DLE want with you?
Piss. Off.
No, seriously, you're not in some kind of trouble, are you? She added a little frowny face, then went back and underlined seriously. Because she actually was slightly concerned. The DLE was not to be fucked about with, especially by people who had as little social leverage and were into as much sketchy shite as Snape (and Evans, until last weekend).
Snape raised an inscrutable eyebrow at her, then after a minute, No.
Are you lying to me?
I wouldn't tell you if I were. He wrote back immediately.
You would if you weren't. Why is the DL—
Snape snatched the page back before she could finish reiterating her question. It's none of your business, Black. None.
It was. It definitely was. It just took Aster a moment to figure out exactly why she thought that. You are Evans's business. Evans is my business. By the transitive property of nosiness, it's totally my business. So, spill.
Snape glared at her for another moment, but (surprisingly) caved, jotting down a few short sentences in explanation.
My father died. On Samhain. Muggles ruled it natural causes. Ministry poked their noses in because there was an "unusual fluctuation in the ambient magics of the area" and someone apparently thought it looked like he'd been Avada'd. They've brought my mother in for questioning, and want to speak to me this weekend.
That...wasn't good. That wasn't good at all. Oh. Fuck.
Snape's brow creased in the smallest of frowns. No great loss.
No, I meant the investigation. Did they say anything else?
No, but I was here, and Mother couldn't cast an Unforgivable to save her life.
And if they had any evidence, you wouldn't have gotten a letter, you'd've gotten an Auror to escort you down to London. But "unusual fluctuation in ambient magic" is code for "we think someone was doing high magic". And it was Samhain. And someone died. So you can see why there's cause for concern.
Snape froze. Apparently he hadn't considered that. Before he came up with a response, their timer went off, the potion demanding their attention until the end of the period. (Well, Snape's attention, at least.) He packed up his things in equal silence, leading Aster to a store-room where he'd apparently asked Evans to wait for them. (Silently. Legilimency was so cheating.)
"Sev? What's wrong?"
He cast half a dozen anti-eavesdropping charms before answering. Aster added a couple as well, because Snape might be paranoid, but he wasn't Noble and Most Ancient House paranoid, and when asking someone whether they might have happened to kill your father while possessed by Persephone, there was no such thing as too paranoid. "I don't know, Lily. Did you per chance murder my father a few nights ago and neglect to mention it?"
Lily frowned. "You seem far less pleased than I expected, but yes. Well, Persephone snuffed him out, but." She shrugged. "I wanted it to be a surprise."
"Oh, I'm surprised, alright! I'm so incredibly fucking sur— Lily! What were you thinking?!"
"Well, I was thinking that the view of Earth from the Moon is awesome. She was thinking she'd do something nice for me by getting rid of the one person I've been wanting to murder since we were nine. Apparently it was little matter whether he died now or in a few years, so."
Snape pinched the bridge of his nose as though this would help mitigate...reality. Which it didn't, of course.
"Did you and/or Kore kill anyone else while she was possessing you?" Aster asked.
"Er...half a dozen or so people at Saint Mungo's, and she did something for another necromancer, I don't know what."
Aster bit her lip, considering. "Right, okay, that's...probably fine."
"Why? What's probably fine?"
"If there were any evidence that you in particular were involved, the Aurors would already have traced you. The hospital — mostly people lingering right on the edge of death, right?" She nodded. "Yeah, well, that's easy enough to chalk up to someone doing a release these poor sufferers from their mortal torment sort of ritual — not the sort of thing people like to talk about, but it does happen pretty regularly, and no one looks too closely into it, because who's it hurting? And whatever she did for someone else is on their head, obviously you wouldn't have a motive, so assuming she cleaned up after you, which she probably did, since, again, no Aurors here, there at least won't be a whole pattern of suspicious Samhain deaths that all have links to you."
In response to Evans's very obvious confusion, Snape handed her the letter. Reading it over her shoulder confirmed that he'd mentioned all the relevant details. "Unusual fluctuation in ambient magic is apparently an official euphemism for we detected someone doing high magic."
"Oh. Fuck. I didn't realise they would... But they don't know it was me, and Sev clearly has an alibi, so..."
"Mother doesn't."
"Your mother's almost as bad as your father."
"Granted. If you'd killed her, too, I wouldn't complain. But Azkaban is a fate worse than death, Lily. Being sent there for a crime you didn't commit..."
"That's less problematic than you might think," Aster volunteered. She'd mostly been concerned that there was a trail of corpses out there pointing directly at Evans. "The Aurors will use a truth potion on her, or maybe legilimency, shouldn't be a problem for her to prove she had nothing to do with it, doesn't know any other mages who might've wanted him dead."
"Except me," Snape pointed out. Aster winced. Yeah, that was probably why they were asking him to come in for questioning.
"But you have an alibi," Evans reminded him (again).
"And it's not super likely that they'll think Bat-boy really had anything to do with it, for that reason. They will, however, ask him whether he knows anyone else who might have a reason to want his old man dead."
"And I'll tell them no, end of story. It's hardly as though muggle Tobias Snape was well-known in magical circles. They shouldn't be surprised. And yes, before you say it, I know they'll probably use a truth serum on me, but I can resist the urge to volunteer information, and—"
"And if you're smart, you won't let it get that far. Yes, it's difficult to question someone precisely enough to hem them in and get a straight answer if they volunteer nothing, but it's not impossible, and if they have an evasive mind mage on their hands, they're going to think there's a reason. Plus, even if you do manage to convince them you have no idea who might've wanted your father dead, being evasive about it just gives them more incentive to look into your associates, see if there's anyone who might've wanted him dead on your behalf."
"Yes, well, all of my 'associates' as you put it, were also at the Revel, so far as anyone knows."
"Yes, but we really don't want anyone looking too closely or asking questions about Evans at all, even if they would eventually dismiss her as a suspect — which they wouldn't, because they'd likely catch wind of 'rumours' that she's a necromancer, either from Potter or Dumbledore, which kind of throws out directly communing with Death as a bloody alibi, and would also result in her being dragged in for questioning."
Evans glared at her. "I hope there's a but after all that. Or some kind of suggestion about what we should do, and not just oh, fuck, we're completely fucked, better start making plans to run away to France."
Aster gave her a blinding grin. "Of course there is. It's not standard practice to use a truth serum just to question a person of interest, and Veritors' Charms are easier to fool with occlumency." She turned back to Snape. "As long as they think you're cooperating, openly and without reservation, they won't use the Veritaserum they probably spent the last three days getting permission to use, just in case. So, only tell them true things, and don't make them drag every word out of you like Pete answering a question in Transfiguration, and when they ask you whether you can think of anyone who might have reason to want your father dead, give them Zorian Prince's name."
"...Zorian Prince?" Snape repeated skeptically. "I've never even spoken to him, you realise."
"You don't need to have. Make it sound like you have no idea — don't say it, but, you know, imply it — tone and presentation — and you know this isn't very likely, but maybe, there's an outside chance because, see, rumour has it he might be associated with the Death Eaters — he is, by the way, if you didn't know consider this me starting that rumour right now — and Eileen has been disowned for ages, but if he happened to have tracked her down— Some of your fellow Slytherins are aware that Eileen Prince is your mother, so it's not impossible that it might've gotten back to him who she married, and how big a prick he was, it's not entirely out of the question he would've thought it was a good idea if that muggle scum who ruined his sister and/or her life were to turn up dead. Potentially.
"Comes off as trying to help, no matter how much you hated the old bastard — don't try to hide that, don't even try to hide that you might've fantasized about him dying, but make it clear that you certainly didn't do anything about it, even though you definitely could have, compelling a muggle drunk to walk in front of a train is pretty fucking easy, and far less detectable than...practically anything, you certainly wouldn't have needed to resort to high ritual — and how slim a lead it might be, convinces them you haven't the faintest idea so questioning you again would be completely pointless, and gets them to lay off you, and by extension Evans."
"What about Zorian Prince?" Evans asked, sounding vaguely amused.
"He tells them he has no bloody idea what they're talking about, and they call it a dead end? If they can't find a lead, they'll have to close the case, weird ambient magic fluctuations or no. Besides, he's just a muggle, they won't try too hard after they've at least made a visible effort for their superiors. We just need to make sure that initial effort doesn't actually turn anything up." She shrugged lightly. "So. Do you think you can pull it off?"
He gave her a grim nod. "It's hardly as though I have much of a choice, is it."
Aster hesitated, because that was hardly the right attitude. She could certainly manage the part. Evans probably could, too. But Snape was...somewhat less experienced when it came to not acting suspicious. Hence her advising him not to try to conceal his hatred for his father, but still... "Evans, maybe also write to Bella and be ready to run away to France, just in case."
"Oh, piss off, Black."