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Chapter Text

Chapter 1: The Shirt of Nessus

Perdita

“There are more things in heaven and earth, Heratio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy”- Hamlet (Act I, Scene V)

Chapter Text

“I grieve our future everyday. I don’t have the heart to grieve our past, as well” - Patroclus

​

September 6, 1975

Regulus was pacing- he’d already counted his 46th round- two staircases above Gryffindor Tower.

He’d desperately desired to speak to his brother.

During summer vacation, Sirius had mostly locked himself up in his room, much to Regulus' disappointment and Walburga’s disdain.

Their mother’s patience grew thin quickly, and on multiple occasions, she had threatened to use crucio. That did not shake Sirius or force him to take up his duties as heir. Regulus knew Sirius wouldn’t even flinch at the mention of the cruciatus curse; it was Walburga’s favourite curse to bring Sirius into compliance when they were younger. But when Walburga had shrieked, she would use the Imperius curse to force Sirius to crucio Regulus, he’d caved.

Regulus felt nauseous when his mother so easily displayed him as a tool against Sirius. He felt even sicker when Sirius left his room with a blank expression, avoided Regulus’ gaze, and coolly asked Walburga to give Kreacher the list of tasks he wanted him to do over the break. He would do them. Walburga smiled in satisfaction, while Sirius returned to his room, disappearing into the gold and red colors that had long replaced the greens and blacks of his room. He slammed the door behind him.

He couldn’t understand why Sirius had accepted so..easily. He always believed Sirius considered James to be his brother. Not him.

Never saw one without the other was the sentence he’d constantly hear amongst his peers and professors at Hogwarts about their friendship.

Sirius never even spoke to him at Hogwarts.

Regulus had yelled at Sirius in his first year when he had come to visit him in the dungeons. He’d brought him his favourite chocolate frogs, and Regulus had crushed them beneath his feet.

“You brought shame to our family, Sirius! And you bring me chocolates!” he exclaimed.

Sirius merely stared at the crushed frogs beneath Regulus’ feet, “For what, Reggie?”

It pained him that Sirius continued to use a childhood nickname. It made him feel small, weak, incompetent. As though he still needed Sirius to hide behind to protect him from Walburga’s wand.

Orion never bothered with Regulus.

“Don’t play me! Do I look like a fool to you? How can you let yourself be affiliated with the bloodtraitor and the halfblood?” Regulus spat.

He could see anger blooming in his brother’s eyes, patience waning. “Careful how you pick your words Reggie” he growled, hitting Regulus in the shoulder as he made his way to the staircase.

They did not talk again for the rest of the year, until they came home and were forced to talk about pitiful pleasantries.

This cycle had become habitual between the two brothers. Silence during the year, and minuscule interactions when they were home together.

Regulus knew the anger he had allowed to fester in himself was less about the family traditions that Sirius so easily broke. It stemmed from jealousy.

How does he have such little regard for who he is?

The gift of greatness was given to him as heir, and he so easily wanted to throw it all away for something as useless as friendship.

Yet even with these contradictions, Regulus longed to be like his brother.

To seek out his approval.

To have what Sirius so effortlessly had.

Whenever Sirius entered a room, all the heads would turn to look at him. Like moths to a flame, the most powerful wizards in the wizarding world would surround him. Even though Sirius often looked bored or insulted them for their beliefs, they still longed for his attention. They desired to be burnt by the words of the heir just to have his notice.

He longed to have that power.

He knew he was his mother’s favourite, but that mattered little.

It only meant that he would be less likely to see the tip of her wand directed at him.  

Walburga did not know what love was.

She knew what it meant to respect tradition, patriarchy, and blood. Walburga saw Regulus as a favorite tool to use against Sirius.

She could not afford to lose the heir of the House of Black. Orion would pull on her marriage bond, taking her to the brink of death if she could not force Sirius to perform his duties perfectly.

Walburga needed to be the perfect mother, and such a role was designated for the women who could  produce the perfect heir.

The spare was hers to play with, to prime how she desired him to be.

Regulus obeyed her and shifted himself to fit her desires. He hoped that through he could reach his father, to show him that he could be what they wanted from Sirius.

But that did not matter.

Regulus was cursed to be the spare of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.

​

The entire summer was spent with Sirius being paraded around, going to functions he greatly disliked with the Lestranges, Dolohovs, Malfoys, and Rosiers. The families quietly cautioned Walburga of her son’s sympathy to blood traitors like the Potters, to which she lied that he was close to them for information.

When they returned home, Walburga would start screaming, dark strands from her perfectly tight hair coming loose: “Do you understand what shame you have brought upon us by having the potter boy as your friend? Bloodtraitors as the friend of the Black Heir? Let that sink in, Sirius, BLOOD TRAITOR!”

“Don’t even get me started on that halfblood friend of yours!, If my father saw what had become of us, he would die!!”

Orion resorted to reading the paper. He quietly observed. He seemed perfectly content to let Walburga’s wrath do the work. He always passively accepted whatever she said or did to the boys. But that was the facade.

Regulus knew in their private quarters that their mother was beaten, physically, and tortured mentally by the marriage bond that linked her to Orion. Punishment for her incompetence at the one small task she had of controlling their sons.

Sirius refused to listen; he’d fly up the stairs, loosening his dress robes. He refused to eat with them. Walburga did not continue her  protests; she knew she could hold him by a leash for so long, and Regulus knew her mother greatly feared the day when she could no longer leash Sirius in. Regulus knew Walburga could use him so much before Sirius broke completely.

When it came to getting on the Hogwarts Express, it felt that Regulus was closer to being a stranger to his brother than anything blood-related.

Regulus knew that times were changing, that it was best to join the Death Eaters, that the wizarding world could no longer hold onto the sympathies it shared with the Muggle world. He heard of it more and more frequently amongst the Slytherin ranks. It had changed from a faint, quiet whisper to a booming vocal voice in the span of the four years he had been at Hogwarts.

It was time for the return of the Knights of Walpurgis.

The organization of Voldemort’s initiative had begun in the 1940s to create the forerunners of the Death Eaters. Now, as he grew more powerful, he sought for his knights the most ancient and  noble pureblood families- Avery,  Rosier, Malfoy, Lestrange, Dolohov, and Mulciber- back into his ranks. Regulus was well aware Orion and Walburga had heard the rumours and that they were contemplating joining. It did not help that his cousin Bellatrix and her husband, Rodulphos, had already joined and continuously whispered to his parents the pureblooded ideology that their leader strove for. Their stories that the Dark Lord would purify the earth from the Mudbloods and Bloodtraitors that had taken away from the sanctity of the Pureblood houses could move any pureblood fanatics towards him.

Regulus found his ideology to be rather hypocritical. He had looked into Voldemort's lineage. Regulus noticed he had hidden his past rather deeply, but nothing that he and his trusted companion, Kreacher, could not pull off. He found newspaper clippings from the Riddle family, and Tom Riddle Senior's rather unfortunate dabble with the Gaunt girl.

Regulus found it rather amusing that a half-blood was making such claims to blood purity, but he knew he could not reveal this to his parents. Voldemort was too powerful, and opposing him would be like asking death to come knocking on your door.

It was not difficult to see the allure of the Dark Lord. He presented to them the illusion of returning to the Old Ways when they had glory and a sort of dark glamor that oozed with power. Voldemort taught them the secrets of magic they didn’t even know existed. Helped them to refine their tactics of cruelty.

Regulus noticed how his parents' gaze towards Sirius had shifted from one of annoyance to opportune.

Especially during the last weeks of Summer, with Bella being a frequent guest of his mother’s drawing room, Regulus could tell their contemplation had shifted to a desire to turn Sirius into a Death Eater. Perhaps his parents saw it as the only way to fix the cracks that had formed in Sirius’s beliefs, to rein him back to being the perfect heir.

It wasn’t hard to tell that Sirius was oblivious to all the happenings around him. Through his wall, Regulus could hear the awful Muggle music he played in his room.

However, he did like one song, and before he could stop himself, he realized he would sing along whenever it played:

All the lonely people

Where do they all belong?

Father Mckenzie

Writing the words of a sermon that no one will hear

No one comes near

When the rest of Sirius’s playlist played, he’d bang on the wall to bring the noise down, to which his brother frequently ignored. Sirius was so stuck in the little world he had constructed for himself and his little friends that he was completely ignorant of what was going to happen to him in a couple of months.

​

Ever since Regulus returned to Hogwarts, a growing fear had slowly sprouted in him. He worried that if Sirius was cornered into becoming a Death Eater that he would leave. He feared that Sirius would abandon him and he would lose him forever. Even though on most occasions, Regulus hated his brother and his sympathies towards others, he was still his brother.

The brother who never hesitated to save him from their mother, who lit up any room in the dark halls of Grimmauld Place by simply walking in them.

Regulus had slowly realized, without Sirius in the room next to him, home would feel suffocating and so utterly lonely.

Hence, why he had come to Gryffindor Tower.

He wanted to warn Sirius without telling him. Regulus had never begged anyone in his entire life, but if such a tactic meant that his brother would modify his behavior so that he could pretend for a period of time to be the perfect heir, to embrace pureblood ideology, then maybe his parents would give up on such a ludicrous idea of turning him into the Dark Lord's follower.

If Sirius wasn’t willing to do it for Regulus, then surely he would do it to save himself.

In the first thirty minutes, Regulus had managed to stay well-hidden from the crowd of Gryffindors that moved into the portrait,  hurrying to avoid missing curfew.

By 11:30 PM, the staircase was silent, except for a tall boy with light brown hair who was making his way up the stairs, when he suddenly stopped in his tracks, lifting his head up to sniff the air.

Regulus found it rather odd that the boy was displaying such wolf-like behaviour.

Then his eyes shifted to the Prefect pin on his robes.

Shit, out of all the people in the world who noticed him, why did it have to be Remus Lupin?

“Regulus,” Lupin whispered, “I know you're there, come out, you better not be trying to pull out a prank so past curfew.”

He stepped out of the shadows, curtly nodding, “Lupin, I’m out for a midnight stroll.”

Lupin raised his eyebrow. “Rather late, isn’t it, and quite far from your preferred locations. I would recommend you go back to the Slytherin common room before I turn you over to Professor McGonagall”.

Regulus sighed, “Whilst I do appreciate the opportunity to leave here rather unscathed from your Gryffindor standards.” He looked at the boy, who was listening, arms folded across his chest.

He hated being honest with others, “I need to speak with Sirius. It’s urgent.”

Lupin looked at him, unconvinced.

Regulus took a deep breath, “Look, Sirius and I are not on the best of terms for me to casually walk to him anytime to have this conversation with him. It’s important I swear on Merlin I’m not trying to pull anything”.

Regulus practically wanted to throw up at his own vulnerability to the half-blood.

Lupin stared at him for a solid 10 seconds; he knew he was weighing the honesty of his words. Then he replied, “I’ll take your word for it, you can stay here. Those two idiots ran to the kitchen right after dinner. Can’t seem to fill themselves up”

Regulus gave him a skeptical look, “Not questioning their curfew mishaps, I see.”

Remus pursed his lips, knowing Regulus' argument had merit, before composing himself, “Right, McGonagall’s office then,” he said, gesturing his hand forward.

Regulus lifted his two hands up, “Alright! Alright! I never said a word.”

“Right then, I’m off to bed. You’ll probably be able to tell when they’re coming. If you haven’t noticed, James and your brother have a habit of making their presence known.”

Regulus chuckled.

“Banana Fritters,” Remus said to the portrait. The lady in the portrait gave Remus a disapproving look for having said the password so clearly in front of a Slytherin. But the boy ignored her.

He either trusted Regulus enough to tell him the password to the common room, perhaps for the sake of helping him get closer to Sirius whenever he wanted to.

However, Regulus had heard the rumour that the Gryffindor password changed frequently, so it might just have been close to the time they were changing it.

Before Remus stepped in, he turned to Regulus, “I hope you two can sort things out.”

Regulus was shocked at the well-wishes of Remus; maybe all halfbloods were not too bad after all.

He disappeared into the Gryffindor tower.

Regulus was now on his 47th pace, and it was near one in the morning, when he heard a loud thump coming from the abandoned corridor above him. He’d already been waiting for so long that it was easier for him to give in to his curiosity. He made his way up the staircase, whispering “Lumos”.

As Regulus made his way in the darkness, his leg made contact with something.

Or rather, someone.

For when, Regulus pointed his wand to the ground, he almost jumped out of his skin. His foot had struck a limp bloodied hand.

The girl’s appearance was so gruesome that Regulus had to hold onto the wall to stop himself from falling backwards. She was lying in a pool of, what can be assumed, her own blood. Her hair was soaked in the crimson liquid. Her body was still lifeless, skin ghastly pale. Her body, or what remained of it, was cut up into pieces. All of her limbs remained intact, but her skin on her abdomen and legs was in patches. The clothes that she wore were sticking onto her skin, as if it was burnt onto her to form a patched doll. Her face seemed to be intact. If there weren’t so much blood, Regulus thought her to be quite pretty.

It wasn’t until she began coughing up blood that Regulus dared to move. He crouched down beside her. His heart racing, he took deep breaths. Regulus hated physical violence, he was more attuned for other forms.

Perhaps his distaste stemmed from his parents particular love for it. 

“Hey! Can you hear me?” he said, trying to force his brain to think about what to do.

The blood was staining the entirety of his uniform. When he glanced at her face again, he noticed she was already staring at her. Her fingers softly gripped his uniform and pulled him in closer to her.

“It’s.. You” She breathed out. “Sirius… I..Bellatrix.. I told her "I don't know”.

Before Regulus could absorb any of the information she was giving him. Her body began shaking violently.

“Hey! Hey! Oh Merlin”, he pressed against her shoulders, trying to get her to stop.

She opened her eyes again, “I’m so…sorry…I couldn’t save you,” then her eyes rolled back.

Seizures plaguing her. Regulus knew if he didn’t spring into action now, she’ll be lost. He hoisted her up on his back, then began moving down the staircase.

The smell of blood was making him sick; the drops, which were now becoming blots on his white shirt made him feel he was drowning in blood.

When he reached one flight below the Gryffindor Tower, he could barely see in front of him. He didn’t notice when he made contact with what appeared to be a visible wall. He braced himself from the impact, holding onto the railing, stopping himself from falling over. He knew he could not afford to hurt the girl on his back.

Two boys magically appeared sprawled onto the floor with a starry cloak beside them. James and Sirius looked up, bewildered at the sight in front of them.  

Sirius was up on his feet in seconds, angrily looking at his brother, “What is going on, Reggie?”

Regulus ignored him completely, “Help me!” he said.

The boys bolted into action. James was on his feet, didn't ask any questions. “I’m going to wake up Poppy”  he ran ahead.

Regulus was feeling he was slowly being crushed. Sirius didn’t need to be reminded that Regulus disliked blood. The fact that he had managed to carry a blood-stained person for more than a minute was in and of itself a miracle.

Sirius helped him settle down and take the girl into his arms. He ran down the staircases, fear trembled through Sirius; he had no desire to give Poppy a corpse to revive. When he reached the last staircase and entered the Hospital Wing. Poppy was already up in her dressing gown with James beside her.

She stopped in her tracks, seeing the state of the girl.

Poppy was already up in her dressing gown with James beside her. She froze in her tracks, seeing the state of the girl.

"What in Merlin's name has happened to her?" she said, covering her mouth.

"Poppy! Help her! NOW!" Sirius yelled at the Matron, he knew it was rude of him to do so, but they could not afford to lose any more time.

Poppy came running with James, rolling a bed to place the girl on it. She waved her wand over the girl, as to what Sirius could assume was a diagnostic test. Poppy’s face struck Sirius  as becoming several shades paler.

She moved the bed behind the curtains and held a hand up as Sirius made his way to enter.

“You and Mr. Potter have done enough for tonight. I’ll take it from here. “ Before Sirius or James could protest that they could be of further help, the Matron continued, “I’ll have to see to the entirety of her body, and well it is rather discourteous to the girl to have her  body fully on display to two boys with no medical qualifications."

That shut up both boys. “If you are worried about her state, you are more than welcome to settle yourselves in the beds in the hospital wing”.

As Poppy busied herself, suddenly the doors to the wing opened and both boys turned to see Regulus in a disheveled state, entering, his dress robes covered in blood.

Sirius practically pounced off the bed he had settled in, and if James had not stopped him, well, it is safe to assume that he would have Regulus pinned against the wall. “WHAT HAPPENED?!” Sirius demanded his younger brother. Regulus had never seen him so angry.

“I didn’t do anything if that’s what you're wondering,” snarled Regulus.

Sirius tried to remove James' hand from his shoulder, “Calm down Sirius!” he said, tightening his grip.

“If you had nothing to do with it, Reggie, what the hell were you doing snooping so close to Gryffindor tower?” Sirius practically spat.

“Well I…” Regulus started defiantly, but then he realized he didn’t want to admit the truth. It became so abundantly clear to him that Sirius had so little faith in him, that he saw him as capable of eliciting such violence despite him knowing disgust for blood and the physical. 

He didn’t tell him that he had come to talk to him.

“I wanted to prank the Gryffindors, you know, payback for last year forcing us to eat slugs,” he said, “but then I heard a sound from the 9th corridor and it piqued my curiosity, that’s when I…” Regulus was struggling, as the image of her limp body drowning in crimson popped into his head, “..I found her,” he forced out.

Sirius was calm enough for James to loosen his grip, but he still looked skeptical at Regulus. “You know I dislike blood Sirius,” he said, to remind his brother.

Sirius nodded.

“Will you boys pipe down!” Poppy yelled from behind the curtain.

All three boys went in civility to the hospital beds on the left side, and they sat down, exhausted from the night's events.

James had practically fallen asleep before his head even hit the pale blue hospital pillows.

The faint smell of burnt flesh, fresh gauze, alcohol, and hydrogen peroxide filled the hospital air. Sirius wondered why the Matron had resorted to Muggle techniques when she could treat the wounds much more easily with her wand.

Regulus turned on his bed, facing the curtain. He’d taken off his robes and only had his blood-stained blouse on.

“She called for you, you know.”

Sirius perked up, staring at his brother's back, which reminded him of when they were children. Regulus always suffered from nightmares and would seek Sirius at night. They’d shared the same bed until he was seven and Regulus six.

“What do you mean?” Sirius asked.

Regulus wasn’t sure if he should tell him any of this, but if there was any amount of honesty, he thought he should give Sirius it was this and nothing more.

“When I found her, she thought I was you,” Regulus whispered quietly, against the backdrop of sounds from the medical equipment Pomfrey was using. “Can’t blame her, though, in her state or even in a regular person’s state, we can be hard to tell apart.”

“Yeah, right,” Sirius huffed, rolling his eyes. It was true, though, despite Sirius’s mocking.

They both shared similar features, courtesy of the Black Family genes: angular face, high cheekbones, gray eyes, and midnight black hair. They were handsome, and both brothers were well aware of the fact.However, whilst Sirius had taken after Orion with a more masculine roguish handsomeness, Regulus had taken after his mother with softer, more delicate features. But from afar- or in the case of the poor girl he had found, in a state of utter pain- they both looked quite similar to one another, especially now that Sirius had short hair.

Sirius was forced to keep his hair short by Walburga, but when he came to school, he’d let his hair grow out. Currently, his hair was in the growing phase, as it had just recently been cut by Kreacher.

“But I don’t know her, I’ve never met her before.” Sirius wondered aloud, racking his brain if her features reminded him of anyone.

“She also mentioned” Regulus was hesitant, trying to collect his thoughts, to find a thread to connect them all.

“Well, spill it out, Reggie”

Regulus took in a deep breath, “Bella.”

At the mention of Bellatrix, Sirius dashed to his brother’s bedside, his gaze serious, “You mean Bellatrix? Our cousin Bellatrix.”

Regulus nodded, and he could feel his heart racing. He knew what Sirius was thinking. His voice broke as he continued, “She said that she told Bella she didn’t know”.

Sirius lifted his hand to cover his face, distraught. Regulus said the words they were both struggling to say out loud.

“You think she did this to her?” he whispered in the dark.

Sirius looked outside the window, avoiding his gaze. “I don’t know”.

Before he got up and went to rest in his own hospital bed.

September 19, 1975

​Perdita had been knocked out for nearly two weeks. Her state had begun to send the troupe of boys that came to visit her into a frenzy, much to Madam Pomfrey’s annoyance.

Sirius, James, and Regulus had made it a habit to make their way down to the infirmary every day, in the case of Regulus, multiple times a day, to see if she had woken from her coma-like state.

But Pomfrey reminded them that it was normal for her to sleep for a prolonged period of time, given what she had gone through.

The boys were kept in the dark regarding the specifics of her circumstance, but the Matron did tell them some vague facts: “She had undergone torture with a cursed blade.”

That was the only piece of information they got, but it was enough to churn their stomachs over and their brains thinking of what could have possibly happened to her.

Dumbledore was of course, notified of her presence and had asked Poppy to allow him to be the first to talk to her, as he found her state quite unusual. He’d interviewed all three boys about the events of the night and had asked for their silence regarding the matter until she woke up. Poppy had made a note to Dumbledore that the clothes she cut from her body were covered in significant amounts of sand.

All three boys agreed with Dumbledore, if word got out of a bloodied girl found on the 9th floor corridor, it would stir-up more problems.

Hence, they all kept on making excuses to their friends and peers when they disappeared to go see her. They’d decided for the first time in their lives to cooperate. They’d take shifts in visiting her, which would help not to make their absence suspicious. James and Sirius felt especially guilty as they never had lied to Remus to this extent. Regulus was almost happy that this whole circumstance had given him a chance to interact with his brother at Hogwarts. But nothing ever lasts.

​

Perdita woke up in the middle of the night of what had become September 19th, 1975. There was pain vibrating through her entire body, but she was relieved that she no longer felt any burning sensation. Her heart thumped against her chest, fully believing that she’d still be entrapped in the prison cell at Malfoy Manor, awaiting her death. But as Perdita’s eyesight adjusted to her surroundings, she realized she was familiar with the room.

This was not Malfoy Manor; it was Hogwarts! Specifically, the Infirmary.

Had everything that had happened to her been a dream?

Perdita pulled herself up she realized her body was extraordinarily stiff and heavy. Her breathing steadily grew more tense. Her hands were all wrapped up in gauze beneath the pajamas she noticed she was wearing. She used the body as a weight to hold her. Slowly, she took one step at a time; she tripped a couple of times but kept herself steady. She didn’t want to wake what she assumed would be Madame Pomfrey up. She knew the Matron would order her back to bed.

She needed to check herself. She needed to make sure that they were alive. That was all that mattered.

As Perdita slowly and stiffly made her way to the hospital door, she saw a small note on the floor. She picked it up with both her gauze-covered hands, holding it against the light of the sconce, written in it with legible but messy handwriting was:

Banana Fritters

Fortuna Major

Baubles

She smiled; the note could only belong to one person: Neville Longbottom had a regular habit of forgetting the Gryffindor Tower passwords.

Her heart almost jolted in joy.

This was another confirmation; she was home.

It took Perdita twice the amount of time to reach Gryffindor Tower, her steps were small, and her breathing had grown ragged. Her body was in pain; every step she took felt as though she was being hit by a speeding car. But it didn’t matter to her.

Her eyes were filled with tears as she saw the portrait of the fat lady that led to the Gryffindor Common Room. She looked concerned at Perdita.

“Are you alright, my dear? It’s certainly way past curfew.”

“Never been better” she smiled and pulled out the list of passwords, reading the first one from the list:”Banana Fritters”.

The door swung open and she used the wall to push her weight forward; otherwise, she knew she would collapse.

Remus, James, and Sirius were all gathered in the Gryffindor Common Room. They couldn’t fall asleep and had resorted to sit in front of the fire. Remus was busy with a book in-hand, chocolate frogs by his side, occasionally nibbling on them one at a time. James and Sirius were busy playing a set of wizards chess.

Sirius looked nervously at Remus, then whispered, “Did you visit her Prongs? Any news?” James moved his head side to side signalling no.

“SOo care to fill me in?” Remus said nonchalantly, not making the effort to lift his head up from his book.

James’s Knight went to E3 on the board.

Both Padfoot and Prongs stared at their wolf friend. “About?” Prongs said, feigning innocence.

“Oh please don’t be naive, I know you both go to the hospital, practically everyday, I can smell it all over you,” Remus said quietly. “And I know it’s not for me, God forbid I spend more than it is necessary in that wing,” he said before his friends could say they had gone to ask Poppy about Werewolf symptoms and how to help relieve them, which had been an excuse they’d used in the past.

“Also, two weeks ago, you both came back to the dorm in a rather ghastly state. I could smell dry blood all over you, Padfoot but no visible wound.”

Sirius and James looked dumbfounded. They couldn’t think of an excuse to give to Remus.

“Well, you see, Moony we erm..” Started James, but he never finished his sentence as a girl with black curly hair had him in a tight embrace.It wasn’t really a proper hug as her hands couldn’t move as easily. James held onto the table to stop them from crashing down; his cheeks were filled with kisses

Remus’s eyes widened, and Sirius’s eyes were gaping wide. The boys didn’t know what to do; it felt quite awkward to pull her off James.

“Harry! Thank Merlin! You’re safe,” she exclaimed happily.

Perdita felt she could breathe; if Harry was safe, all was well.

It was the first time she allowed herself to be truly happy.

“Voldemort.. He took you away, and I thought..” At the mention of Voldemort’s name, the boy in his arms shuddered.

Harry never feared at the mention of Voldemort’s name.

She pulled away, holding the boy’s face in his palm. Then she noticed that whilst the unruly jet-black hair, his eyes were not green, they were Hazel.

Then she moved his hair from his forehead; he didn’t have the lightning bolt scar.

“You’re not Harry?” She asked, heart dropping.

“No, I’m not,” the boy replied gently, staring into her eyes.

At the same moment, a ginger-haired girl had come down the staircase from the girls' dormitory, wiping her sleepy eyes, “Can’t you lot keep it down, what’s with all this commotion?” then gawking at the scene in front of her.

The Harry-esque boy turned to the ginger and back at the girl holding him, looking visibly panicked. He tried to scramble away from her.

He looked longingly at the red-haired, “Evans, I swear there’s nothing going on between us!”

“Save your breath, Potter, not like we are anything,” Evans replied courtly. “I was actually happy, thought you’d finally given up”

“Me? Never,” he replied smugly.

Perdita lost her balance from his embrace and went crashing into the chess table. Sirius had dove to stop her fall but had failed miserably, ending up on top of her. Sirius had stopped his weight from falling on her; he’d instead caged her. The girl’s eyes had grown wide, staring into Sirius’s gray eyes. She moved her hand to touch his cheek. Sirius didn’t know why, but he leaned into her palm. It felt comforting to her.

“I..thought..how can this be? Am I dead?” She said, tears streaming down her face. Sirius gave her a crooked smile, “you seem pretty alive to me”. He moved from the top of her, pulling her up. She held onto him for balance. Sirius didn’t mind their closeness. Perdita looked around the room, confused.

Everything seemed to be the same, but it was different. She couldn’t tell what it was, though.

Her eyes looked at the people who were surrounding her. They were so familiar, yet she felt like she didn’t know them at all.

The boy she’d hugged at first was a replica of Harry without the scar and Lily’s eyes.

Sirius, who was helping her up, wasn’t exactly her Sirius.

He was more youthful, more roguish, and she didn’t even know that it was possible, but he was even more handsome. He wasn’t broken yet.

Then her eyes settled on the tall boy in the armchair, “Professor Lupin?”

He looked so young, unwearied. Fresh scars cut against his face, the results of his transformations. Remus looked rather shocked. “Me? Professor?”

There came the sound of the portrait swinging open, and a young Slytherin came dashing through, panting as he reached the circle of people.

“I came as fast as I could! Pomfrey-is” he took his hand up “shesfreakingout” he said in a single breath.

The Gryffindors stared at the boy who looked like he could be Sirius’s sibling.

“What year is it?” Perdita asked; it was the only explanation she could think of.

“What an odd question,” Lily said, visibly irritated at whatever was unfolding in front of her.

“It’s September 19th, 1975,” said Remus calmly. The words made Perdita dizzy; she sank onto the ground. “Easy now,” Sirius went down with her, holding her arm as gently as possible. Perdita had crouched down, folded into herself. The way she had grown used to in Malfoy Manor, to forget that she was in pain.

“This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. This isn’t happening,” she started to hymn.

“Can someone explain what’s going on?” Remus asked as he bent down, next to Sirius, trying to offer any form of help to the girl who clearly looked panicked.

“Why does Regulus have the Gryffindor password?” James asked, “I gave it to him,” Remus replied, pointing to Perdita to remind Prongs that they had more urgent matters at hand.

“REMUS, you're a prefect, you should know better,” Evans hissed. She moved closer. She didn’t know how to comfort the girl, and the pang of jealousy she felt when she found James hugging her wasn’t helping.

“Oh, get over it, the two of you can change it LATER!” Regulus interrupted, growing frustrated that the stupid password seems to be pushed forward as the main priority.

“This can’t be happening, this can’t be happening.” Perdita was losing her grasp on reality.

How was this possible? Draco? What had he done?

Tears were streaming down her face. “Hey, look at me,” Perdita hadn’t realized, but she’d begun hitting herself. Moony, Prongs, Regulus, and Evans were lost for words. They didn’t know what to do. Sirius gently pulled her fists down from her head, locking them in one of his hands. He used his right hand to turn Perdita’s gaze towards her.

“Look. At. Me,” he gently said to her, and Perdita looked at him, allowing herself to drown in his gray eyes.

“It’s going to be alright, we’re going to fix this. Together,” he said. His words grounded her like it had done a thousand times before. She wanted to trust this Sirius.

“I don’t know what to do, I don’t know.” She said through her tears. She was grieving the loss of what would have been her future and her past.

“Is she insane?” Evans whispered to Remus, but it was purposefully loud enough for Perdita to hear.

“I. AM. NOT. INSANE,” Perdita yelled, frustrated.

Then she lost control as yellow and red sparks flew from her.

Chapter Text

"...Or was his destiny from the start

To be but just one moment 

Near Your Heart?" Ivan Turgenev 

June 28, 1996 

Perdita could feel her grief coming in waves again. In some moments there was no sadness that permeated her heart. During others, she buried herself beneath the emerald sheets, refusing to come out. She’d already missed a week of academics and had no desire to bring herself out of the misery she found herself in. She felt empty. It was as if someone had scooped out all of the emotions she felt within her chest, leaving her to be a hollow vessel. When she did feel anything, it would be a frenzy of emotions, her heart would begin to race, and a sensation of overwhelmedness would descend upon her. She did not know what to do with herself. She’d already cried enough that she thought she no longer had tears to spare. All she could do was lie in bed and hope that this was all a terrible dream. 

She tried to convince herself of an alternate reality,  believing  that Sirius was still at 12 Grimmauld Place, singing melodiously “God Rest Ye, Merry Hippogriffs” as he came down the stairs. 

She’d correct him saying: “it’s actually “God Rest Ye, Merry Gentlemen”.

Sirius would laugh just like he always would, “Wouldn’t want to hurt Buckbeaks feelings you know” winking at her. 

Pansy would pop-in from time to time  throughout the day looking somewhat concerned at her state. Perdita and Pansy had a civility in code with one another. She stayed out of her way and Perdita did the same.

 Hermione was often annoyed as to why Perdita did not stand up against Pansy, despite the frequent insults she hauled towards her own sister. 

“You know pug-face isn’t only insulting me, she’s insulting you too.” She’d huff. 

“Well, you have the grace of not having to share a dorm with her, whilst I have too Hermione!” Perdita would respond annoyingly. She’d already suffered enough from the slurs of insults she suffered from Malfoy and his slytherin gang in her first year.

Her existence could be summarized as a pendulum of isolation, no matter whichever side she went she was always alone. 

Left to fend for herself. 

If she went towards Hermione and the Gryffindors, their mistrust of her being a Slytherin was too much to grant them better judgement towards her. Hermione often chose not to affiliate with Perdita as much as possible at Hogwarts, she was always afraid that Ron would judge her too much. Her bond with her sister was one that was at Hermione’s discretion. Whenever she wanted they were sisters and when she didn’t, they weren’t. Perdita had grown used to it, but there were times in which she wondered if she had been sorted in Gryffindor would things have been different? 

Harry, Perdita realized, was not quick to judge others, he’d always welcomed her but to define them as friends was a far cry. 

On the other side, the Slytherins either avoided her or threw slurs at her for being Muggle-born. In her first year at Hogwarts Perdita slept in the second floor girl’s lavatory, preferring Myrtle to the cockroaches, rats, and electric currents the other Slytherins would jinx her bed with. It was after two months that Myrtle had pitied her that she’d gone to Professor Mcgonnagall explaining Perdita’s circumstances. 

She did not know whether she should feel sad that a ghost of all people had pettied her. Snape was furious, calling her insolent and weak. He’d ordered her back to the dorms. Perdita slept with her wand in her hand but she realized that the Slytherins had for now stopped their tricks. But the slurs continued. She made herself believe that she could live with the insults.

Hermione was perhaps even more angry at her than Snape, she’d yelled at her, “Why do you always just do things on your own?” 

“What would you have wanted me to do?” 

“You could’ve told me!” 

“What difference would that have made? Would you have broken the rules? Shared the Gryffindor password with me so that I can share the space with you? 

Hermione’s lips pursed, contemplating her answer. 

Perdita could feel tears sprouting in her eyes. She didn’t look at Hermione. “Don’t say words you don’t mean. Don’t…pretend to know the solution to everything, when you clearly cannot sort your own priorities”. 

Pansy kept on pacing around her, like an owl with a delivery. “What is it?” Perdita groaned “Come to make my life more miserable than it actually is. Well it’s your lucky day, no need to put in effort, I’m already in the depths of hell” She sniffled out, further burying herself beneath the blankets. 

Pansy made herself comfortable settling into Perdita’s bed, “You know I’m worried about you”. Perdita's eyes widened, pulling herself out from the sea of sheets “What?” 

“Don’t make me repeat myself” Pansy said annoyed, “You were out for a week after the events at the Ministry, and well I felt a gap during the time you were gone and ever since that time you’ve just been sulking in bed” 

 “I…I actually like having you as a roommate. It also made me realize the rest of the Slythering girls are simply cruel to want to be friends ” she said, picking at her nails. 

“Are you alright Pansy?” Perdita asked, growing more shocked at the confessions of her Slytherin peer. 

“Oh get over it, Pita. I said what I said. I’ve been meaning to apologize to you since first-year for you know saying cruel things to you. It’s always easier to follow the crowd, which gives way to having friends,” she explained. 

In the midst of all the emotions waving on her, she didn’t know where to place Pansy’s apology. “I don’t know what to say. I do appreciate the gesture but I need to think over it.” She replied quietly. 

Pansy nodded, “You don’t have to forgive me. I just wanted to let you know. I’ll also stay clear of Hermione, even if I do find her utterly annoying” 

“Hey!” said Perdita

“I won’t hurt her feelings, knowing that it’ll hurt you” 

Pansy looked as if she was contemplating something. “You know he’s worried about you, Draco” she added quietly, “when he found out you’d gone to the Ministry with the Order we practically had to manhandle him”

“Why?” 

“Because he wanted to go and find you! See if you were OK” she said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

Perdita wanted to outright reject Pansy’s claims but it would be a lie. 

Draco had mostly been ignorant to her in their second year, but in their third year the dynamic had shifted. There weren’t grand gestures, but they were faint like a shadow in the dark barely noticeable. Regardless, she noticed them.

The way when the other Slytherin’s weren’t present he’d silently walked side by side with her, slowing his pace to match hers.

The way how when she settled herself in the library, he’d choose to sit next to her, much to her annoyance.

How when her quills ran out of ink in class, she would feel the slight ticklish brush of feathers against her hand. She’d looked underneath the table, seeing Draco’s pale hand non-chalantly passing her his expensive quills. She’d stared at him in shock, he didn’t look at her, pretending to focus on the lesson.

How at the Yule Ball, he’d come after her in the snow. 

No one had asked her to the dance. It wasn't because she wasn’t pretty. In fact, almost everyone at Hogwarts agreed that Perdita was the prettier of the Granger sisters. She’d taken after their father inheriting a tanner complexion along with the constellations of freckles that dusted her nose bridge and high rosy cheeks. 

Her raven curls would always fall delicately to her shoulders and the two white strands that framed her heart shaped face were always in place.

However, Visual appeasement held little significance in the face of the political baggage that had manifested itself on Perdita’s shoulders.

Her alliances were considered murky.

To the Slytherins, she was a lion in a den of snakes. For the Gryffindors, she was a snake in a cage full of lions.

Always the spy. Always the traitor.

Never the hero. Never the ally.

She felt happy when she saw Hermione dancing with Viktor Krum, but it was a happiness she was obligated to give out of familial bond. She couldn’t rid herself of the pang of jealousy she felt when Hermione laughed as Krum twirled her around. It reminded her of the privileges she lacked, the fact that she was cursed to be untrustworthy. 

To never belong.

She couldn’t stay for the rest of the Champions Waltz, instead she found herself walking in the courtyard that led to Hagrid’s hut. Quietly treading in circles as the snow flakes danced to the ground.

She looked up and breathed in the chilly air. Letting it cool the sadness that punctured her heart.

“Care for a dance?” She was caught off guard by the voice's presence. 

Draco Malfoy was leaning against one of the stone pillars, pale white hair sleaked back in an all black dress robes that reeked of luxury. 

She hated to admit it but he indeed looked quite ravishing.

Draco was never ugly, in fact he’d always been quite handsome.

It was his too often cruel remarks towards others that tarnished his appearance.

“Didn’t you come with Pansy? She’d be rather disappointed to find his date running off to find a replacement.” Perdita said, hoping her words would have some bite to it.

Draco smirked, “that is true…if only she hadn’t busied herself with getting her face eaten by Zabini” 

Perdita cringed at the crude remark, “I’m sorry”. 

She took Malfoy as having a rather frail ego. 

Being alone was bad but having your date run off with another bloke. Well her not being asked to the dance was appearing to be the much better fate between the two of them.

“Don’t be, I only asked her out as a favor, she wanted to get Zabini jealous. Pitiful tactics if you ask me” he said, making his way closer to her.

“Didn’t expect you to do anything out of the goodness of your heart, I guess you’re making me see you differently Malfoy.”

He was now standing next to her.

“I’d be lying if I said I did it for completely selfless reasons. The opportunity presented itself. I wanted to get a reaction out of someone.”

“I knew I was thinking too highly of you,” Perdita laughed. “any luck?”

She hoped whoever it was, would help deflate his rather inflated ego.

He rubbed the back of his neck, “I’m not sure.”

“Now about my initial proposal” he said, clearing his throat  outstretching his hand. 

Perdita was hesitant, what if Hermione, Ron, or Harry were to come here? 

If their trust towards her were paper thin, seeing her close to Draco would practically decimate any speck of trust that remained.

As if Malfoy was reading her thoughts, “don’t worry, they won’t come here the Champions Waltz will go on for likely another 10 minutes and last I checked Weasley was slumped in a chair sulking at your sister”

She sighed, if only Ron had enough courage to have asked Hermione out in the first place. She knew that Hermione had prolonged accepting Krum’s proposal hoping that Ron would ask her out.

“Idiot” she said under her breath, letting her hand slide into Malfoy’s gloved one’s.

“Weasley? Indeed. Should’ve asked your sister when he had the chance.”

“You knew that she was stalling Krum?!” Perdita asked, rather surprised.

“Bit hard to ignore, to be honest. Krum was practically a puppy dog following her around. He spent hours in the library staring at her and asked her a dozen times at the end of her study sessions if he’d go out with her. The whole thing was quite hard to watch” he grimaced as though he himself was superior to such things. “Which of course your sister rejected each time, until she couldn’t come up with excuses. Bit pathetic on Weasley’s end to take your sister for granted no?”

Perdita knew he was right but she didn’t want to give Malfoy the satisfaction, “who are you to judge Weasley! You asked a girl out to make the other jealous! I can’t say you both are any different” Malfoy cocked his head to the side, almost looking amused.

“I’m beginning to think I’ve been rather successful”

He pulled her close and twirled her in the snow.

“What does that mean?” Her confusion gave way to frustration.

“Nothing at all,” he said quietly.

Perdita felt for the sake of her own sanity to let the matter go, instead she was careful not to step on his shoes.

“Sorry I’m not the best at dancing”

“Your dancing is perfectly fine, Pita” she rolled her eyes at the mention of the nickname. She was rather enjoying the dance against her better judgement. Draco was leading easily and she merely followed him. Making it easy for her steps to fall in line with his.

“Why do you do this?” She couldn’t stop herself from asking the question that had been bothering her since the start of term.

“Do what?” His gaze intently focused on her.

“You know, being kind to me? I can’t tell why. Noticing me, helping me, sitting next to me. You practically hate me. It's confusing”

“I don’t hate you Pita.” He said calmly, bringing her closer to the point she was practically pressed against his broad chest. She stared up at him defiantly and he sighed in defeat, not looking at her whilst responding.

“I guess it’s because you scare me and I enjoy the thrill of that fear”

Perdita narrowed her eyes,

“How can I scare you?”

“Because you make me question the beliefs that I am expected to have faith in”

“Whenever I look at you it’s as if I can see myself clearly reflected in your eyes, and it makes me question myself. I’m not sure I like what I see”

She was stunned into silence.

“Well you can change for the better.” She proposed. His expression darkened.

“That’s not how this works, Perdita. Even if I become a saint, for the Gryffindor’s you cherish so dearly, I’ll still be no better than the devil.

They will not see me for who I am, rather for what I am, for the beliefs I represent. They’ll invent and reinvent me in their minds, and continue to accuse me”

She hated that she understood what he meant.

Always the traitor. Always the foe.

Never the ally. Never the saint.

The weight of his words, burdened Perdita.

“It’s best if I go, it’s getting late,” she said, letting go of his hand.

Malfoy nodded, his face masked by his cold expression.

Before she reached the door that led to the castle, Perdita turned,

“Thank you Malfoy, for the dance I mean.”

He wasn’t clearly visible in the dark

“Anytime” 

She could almost swear to have seen the faint ghost of a smile forming on his lips.

The images grew blurrier, as she grew into her consciousness. Voices merging with one another, memories collapsing against each other.

“Don’t.”

“I can’t bring myself to love you. I just can’t”

Chapter Text

"Your worst sin is that you have destroyed and betrayed yourself for nothing"- Fyodor Dostoevsky 

 

September 21, 1975