A Broken Inheritance

Chapter 5: Spring Break of 76'

They hadn't seen him—at least, not yet—and for that, he was grateful.

He turned to James, ready to suggest they make a quick exit, but James wasn't paying attention. His gaze was locked on the other side of the platform, his expression a mixture of irritation and disbelief. Sirius followed his line of sight and sighed when he saw what had captured James's attention.

James nodded absently, but his attention was already drifting. His eyes had caught on another scene playing out nearby—Anastasia and Regulus walking toward the elder Blacks, and more importantly, toward Tom Riddle.

Sirius watched as Tom extended a hand to her, his movements smooth and deliberate. Anastasia placed her gloved hand in his, and he pulled her into an embrace that was just a little too intimate for a public platform. When Riddle kissed her—slow, deliberate, and clearly for show—Sirius winced.

"Lovely," James muttered, his tone dripping with disdain. "Just lovely. Looks to me like she's perfectly happy with him. Maybe we don't need to bother with that whole ball thing after all."

Sirius turned to him, his expression darkening. "You're an idiot."

James tore his gaze from the scene, raising an eyebrow at Sirius. "Oh, come on. Look at her." He gestured toward Anastasia, who had pulled Regulus into a brief hug, her lips moving as she whispered something to him. "Does that look like someone who needs saving?"

Sirius's jaw tightened. "That's not the point."

"Then what is the point?" James asked, throwing up his hands. "From where I stand, she looks perfectly content being Riddle's little—"

"Don't," Sirius snapped, his voice cutting through James's words like a knife. His gray eyes flashed with something sharp and unyielding, enough to make James falter. "Don't finish that sentence."

James blinked, taken aback by the intensity in Sirius's voice. His own irritation bubbled to the surface, and he crossed his arms. "Why are you so intent on defending her?" he demanded. "It's not like the two of you have been best mates recently. Hell, you've barely spoken. Why do you care so much?"

Sirius exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. He turned away for a moment, watching as Anastasia exchanged a few curt words with Walburga and Orion before taking Riddle's arm. "Because it's not the same anymore, James," he said finally, his voice low but firm. "We're not kids anymore. This isn't just some house rivalry. It's bigger than that."

James scoffed, his frustration mounting. "And what do you want me to do about it, Sirius? She's not my problem. Hell, she's not your problem either. It's not like she's asked for your help—or anyone's help, for that matter."

Sirius turned back to him, his expression hard. "Since when do you stay out of other people's business?" he shot back. "You've spent months stalking her through the castle, convinced she's scheming something evil. That was your business, wasn't it? But now, when it actually matters, suddenly it's not?"

James opened his mouth to argue but stopped himself, his frustration mounting. "Why have you been so bloody moody with me lately?" he demanded. "You've been snapping at me every time I bring her up."

"It's not about me," Sirius said finally, his voice tense. "It's about her. She's still stuck there, James. With them. And you—you talk like it's nothing."

James frowned, his frustration giving way to unease. "She's fine," he said, though his tone lacked conviction. "She's... she's perfectly safe there. It's not like she's—"

"She's not safe," Sirius said, his voice low and warning.

James hesitated, his gaze flicking back to where Anastasia was now walking away with Riddle, her arm tucked neatly into his. The man was saying something to her, and though James couldn't hear the words, he saw the faintest hint of a smile cross her lips.

"Look," James said after a moment, his voice quieter. "I get it, alright? I get that your parents are horrible. I get that you weren't safe there. But she's... she's not you, Sirius. She's the picture-perfect poster child of pureblood superiority. She doesn't have anything to worry about."

Sirius's jaw tightened, and he looked away, his hands clenched tightly at his sides. He didn't respond—couldn't respond—because James didn't know. He didn't know what perfection had cost her, didn't know the inhumane punishments she had endured, the scars she carried for the sake of being the family's perfect little tool.

Sirius's jaw tightened, his hands clenching into fists. He turned away, his voice bitter. "Yeah. Sure. She's perfectly safe."

James stared at him, something uneasy settling in his stomach. He didn't push further, though. Instead, his gaze drifted back to the car where Tom was helping Anastasia inside. She moved with her usual grace, her face composed and poised, but James couldn't shake the memory of the letter. Of the fear he'd seen on her face when she read it.

"She'll be fine," James said again, though his voice lacked conviction. "She doesn't need you to worry about her."

Sirius let out a humourless laugh. "Maybe not. But that doesn't mean I don't."

"Then it's settled." James replied after a moment, while they watched Anastasia and Tom disappear into the crowd. "We'll go to the ball."