Liv always contemplated the fact that people believed if you're beautiful, you've got everything going for you. This, of course, was not always true.
Liv was beautiful, easily the most beautiful girl in third year, perhaps she would be the most beautiful girl at Hogwarts when she got a bit older and her face matured. "You look just like you're mother," continuous witches and wizards would sigh when they laid eyes on her as a child – and Remus would usually pick her up and take her away from the witches and wizards saying such a thing to a small girl, because no six year old wanted to hear they looked like the mother they'd never got to meet.
Liv, for one, had no idea what her mother looked like. Similar to Liv would mean inches and inches of platinum blonde hair that reached down to your lower back, curling perfectly at the ends. Similar to Liv is unknowingly inheriting your fathers bright silver (with the slightest hint of blue) eyes – that would glisten anytime the sun hit. It was full lips that always had a prominent hint of red in them, teeth that would never need to see the ugly side of braces – which together, made Liv's smile one of everyone's favourite things. It was being, simply, beautiful.
So that's what Liv always imaged her mother to look like – her beautiful self.
But then Liv grew older. Like most, problems become more prominent in your life as you age. She learnt her mother was bad, she was one of his supporters – and rotting away in Azkaban for some unforgivable crime that seemed to be so bad Remus refused to breathe a word about. So, instead of seeing her mother as a bad person, she saw herself – because that's what people had always told her, right? Yet how could someone so non-evil looking be so..... evil?
Liv thought she looked evil when her hair turned Black, it's why she hated it so much. It wasn't the fact she knew she had to experience tremendous upset to experience it, but the fact it reminded her of the mind of her mother. Dark. Sinister. Unrighteous. Often she wondered what she'd look like if her hair turned a different colour, for instance a simple brown, or red. Maybe then she'd still believe she was beautiful with it.
If only there hadn't been so much value placed on such a trivial thing.
And then there was her father.
Apparently he was very good looking too, charming even. Loyal to friends, disloyal to family – until it all went wrong, and they switched. But the poster plastered down on the Gryffindor table that Liv's peers were staring down at begged to differ.
There was little life to his face, deranged hair, sullen eyes. He looked like the blueprint of evil – and if it was true, if he'd betrayed Remus and was the reason all his friends were dead, there was no mistaking such evil in his manners.
SIRIUS BLACK BREAK IN AT HOGWARTS
She'd obviously already heard the news, but it seemed a million times worse now it was here infront of her face, and for the entire wizarding community to see. It was no longer Hogwarts little secret, but rather another thing to stress about while she was living this secret double life.
She imagined the uproar in the wizarding community if her mother, one of Voldemort's most loyal supporters, escaped Azkaban too. It could happen the stupid voice in her head kept reminding her. If Sirius did it, so can every other psycho in there. Would it be as bad? Was the crime she'd commited been worse than that of Sirius? What exactly did someone have to do to get life imprisonment in Azkaban?
She wouldn't talk to Harry or Hermione, that would be too risky – she needed to talk to someone clueless, someone stupid. Someone who, no matter how close Liv got to spilling the truth about her mother or father, would never catch on.
"Neville?"
She turned to the boy she'd only spoken too a couple of times, he was exactly as Liv described. Clueless. Stupid. Really sweet, actually. He wiped away the milk dripping from the corner of his mouth with the back of his sleeve and drew away his eyes from the blank spot in front of him that he seemed to be very interested in, and smiled softly.
"Hello!"
He sounded so cheerful, so full of love. If only he'd joined in with the previous conversation when everyone was unknowingly towering over a poster of her father, she'd could have done with such a jovial tone back then. Nonetheless, Liv smiled back.
She looked blankly at the spot Neville had been staring at for a brief moment, before tuning back to the boy who had a breakfast spoon gripped in one hand and a bowl of cornflakes sprinkled with sugar in the other.
"Are you alright?"
"Yes! Yes..." Neville began to stammer, and to Liv's displeasure, turned an awful shade of red. "Sorry I – I daydream a lot. You caught me off guard,"
"Oh! Okay..."
The pair both stirred awkwardly at their own bowls of cereals. Liv hadn't exactly planned out what she was going to do, or what she was going to say – and this strange boy was definitely making it a lot harder.
"I still can't believe someone broke out of Azkaban," she offered, hoping to start up a conversation with the boy. "That's scary stuff,"
"I know, it's horrible," Neville nodded, a saddened expression on his face. He turned back to his cereal, leaving Liv staring hopelessly at him.
She'd never met someone so unwilling to talk – especially to her, she was Liv fucking Black! She wouldn't want to sound patronising, but who wouldn't want to talk to her? She dug her spoon at the cereal; she'd always been taught not to play with her food, but what else could be done in a situation like this?
"I wonder what people do to get a life sentence?" Liv asked. She knew the answer – she knew her father had murdered all those people, she just needed to know if her mother had done the same.
For the first time, Neville looked Liv in the eye. "My parents were tourtured, she's in Azkaban for life,"
Liv scowled herself for taunting his lack of conversing, for he'd just spilled everything she'd wanted him too – and very quickly too, leaving her startled to the point her cheerio filled spoon splashed back down into the bowl as her grip loosed on it in shock.
She was silent.
He was silent, too.
How else could you react after finding out the awkward little boy of Gryffindor had so much trouble in his past? That his parents faced the worst consequences of the first wizarding war?
Neville stood from the table rather quickly, knocking over his bowl as he did so. The milk spilled and trickled down the side of the table forming a puddle at his feet. Maybe he hadn't noticed, or maybe he'd chose to ignore it. "I hope that answered your question, I hope I helped,"
"Wait, Neville?" Liv called, desperate to pull her legs out of the puzzle that was the great hall benches. She found her feet and was forced to run to catch up with the boy. "Do you want to come to Hogsmede with me today?" She asked, breathless.
"You – you want to go to Hogsmede with me?"
Liv, still very much out of breath after running so early in the morning, smiled widely and nodded.
"Uh, yes. Yes... okay,"
"Great!"
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It seemed as though every time Liv walked through the homely oak doors of The Three Broomsticks, the conversation was immediately melancholy and she was always left feeling very doleful. This was probably because the only two times she'd been seated in said pub, the conversation had been about her murderous parents. But since her and Neville had sat down at a table and had their drinks served, not a single word had been muttered between the two. Liv was starting to think he really didn't want to be there – people were begginging to give them strange looks.
"Do you ever daydream about them?"
The silence between the two had started to feel very weird to Liv. She wasn't quite sure if she'd asked the question out loud, or if it was just continuous looping on repeat in her head.
"... sometimes, yes. Not always.... but sometimes I imagine what it would be like if my parents were – well, my parents,"
Liv glimpsed at him, just for a second - no more than that, just enough time to catch the sudden sadness in his blue eyes, before forcing her gaze away. "Is it lonely?" She asked in a senseless attempt to see if she could relate to the boy who was in no way similar.
"No, not at all," Neville paused for a moment, thinking over his words. "It sometimes gets lonely thinking about them, but I have to remind myself why they're not here,"
"Are they.... are they alive?" Liv asked, careful not to offend the boy.
"Oh, yes!" Neville smiled wildly to Liv who was eyeing him curiously for a reaction, a sudden proud tone in his voice. "I'll sometimes visit them at St Mungos. They don't recognise me, but it's still nice to see them,"
Would Liv's parents recognise her? Probably not – perhaps she did relate to his strange boy after all. She thought about those thirteen years that had flown by since last being in her mothers presence, and the thirteen years Sirius Black had most likely spent having no idea she even existed. "If it makes you feel better, my parents wouldn't be able to recognise me," Liv muttered, her gaze now as far away from his eyes as it could possibly manage.
"We're they tortured, too?" Neville asked inquisitively.
"Um, no," Liv stuttered, her voice edged with a slight timid tone. She needed to lie. She needed to lie so he'd never find out the truth. "'My father– my father's dead. My mother was a death eater,"
"It was a death-eater who tortured my parents..."
Liv's mind was admittedly elsewhere; she suddenly felt panicked, wondering why on Earth she wouldn't ever say such a thing – such a lie! Something so big it would definitely come back and haunt her. Apologetically, she glanced back up to Neville instead of the wooden floor she'd been staring into. He continued to talk,
"... her name was Bellatrix Lestrange..."
She'd heard of her mother's name, of course she had – the most infamous witch of all time, known for her brutal crimes and transgressions, but knowing they had been performed against Neville's parents made it seem, if possible, a million times worse.
It made Liv feel awful. And yet, she needed - wanted - to know more. The truth about her mother so suddenly spilling out of Neville's mouth satisfied part of Liv and fearfully excited her to the point—
"I'm sorry, Neville,"
Regretfully, Liv realised she'd apologised for the way his words made her feel, rather in a way to try comfort him, because, she shouldn't be thinking that way about someone like that. Hearing her crimes shouldn't excite her like that – no matter how much blood they shared.
She placed a hand on his – not caring if any boundaries were being pushed, it was the last thing on her mind. "You're parents must have been so brave, I'm sure they would be so proud of you,"
"Proud?" Neville repeated, quietly. He hadn't torn his eyes of her hand caressing his own. "I'm nothing like them! I'm the opposite of brave – I sometimes wonder why I'm even in Gryffindor,"
"You are brave, Neville! You fought off the Snape boggart, didn't you?" Liv reassured in a matter of determination, noticing the boy finally glance up to look into her eyes. "Besides, if Gryffindor was all about being brave I definitely wouldn't be in it,"
"You don't think you belong in Gryffindor either?"
Liv frowned, slightly. She wasn't quite sure why she'd just told him that, much like the way she hadn't made up quite an absurd lie about her very much alive Father. "My family... they're awful people. I sometimes wonder if it would have been best to just throw me into slytherin, you know? I think that's what everyone was expecting,"
At this, her frown deepened, disappointed at herself. She'd opened up more to this stranger than her closest friends – even her Father. Sure, he was stupid, but that didn't mean he could be trusted with a deepest, most secret feelings.
"What about you?" Neville said suddenly. "Does it get lonely without your parents?"
Those very simple words sounded something foreign to Liv. She jumbled the words around in her brain, desperate to find an answer as to what it mean... what Neville was asking her.
Lonely?
Parents?
Without?
What about you?
"No ones ever asked me something like that," Liv said quietly, rubbing her temples rather hard. "Sorry – I'm... um,"
This time, it was Neville who'd moved his hand so there was contact. Liv breathed, desperately, she tried so hard to just breathe.
"I guess my Dad kind of adopted me, but I don't like to think of it that way. When I was younger, my he used to take me to the river. I liked the frogs – when I held out my hand they'd hop straight into my palm. The first time it happened I showed my Dad, and he placed my other hand in his and told me to close my eyes and think of a colour. I chose pink; he gently stroked my finger across the frogs back, to which it slowly began to turn pink! That's when I knew I was special, that there was whole other world out there. A magical one. And I felt less alone, you know? He's amazing, my Dad. It's always just been me and him – but it's okay, because he's my bestfriend,"
Neville smiled, proudly. "Do you want to see my bestfriend? I... I think you'll like him!"
The boy reached for his pocket, Liv expected him to pull out a photograph – maybe of an old friend from home, but instead, he pulled, to Livs big surprise, a large toad that croaked the moment he was placed on the wooden table.
"His name is Trevor. I don't think I can turn him pink, though. Sorry,"
"Hi, Trevor!" Liv said, taken aback by the great big toad right in front of her face. "Oh, Neville, he's so cute!"
"Really? I'm glad you think that!" Neville reasoned rather happily. Liv scooped the large thing into her arms. "Not many people do..."
"Well those people are stupid, aren't they Trevor? Your the cutest little thing ever!"
Liv fussed over the toad for seemingly hours, laughing every time he let out a deep croak. "You're good at making friends," Neville stated – a bizarre approach at making friends. "I wish I was like you,"
"Oh, it's easy!" Liv smiled, ignoring the weirdness of the whole thing. "Ive had a lot of practice. My Dad used to make me be friends with all the kids at the park. I think it's because he wasn't allowed friends as a kid and he didn't want me to miss out like he did,"
"He wasn't allowed friends?" Neville asked, a concerned look plastered on his usually sweet face. Liv kicked herself under the table, god, you're so stupid, Liv!
"He has a... condition," she said, choosing her words carefully. She couldn't risk lying to the poor boy again, what had he ever done to deserve that?
"What condition?" Frowned Neville.
Liv thought for a moment. Nothing. Absolutely nothing came to mind that could say her from this situation. ".... one where you can't have friends... yeah,"
"What?"
"Yeah, it's brutal," Liv said, shaking her head – making sure to add a sad sigh at the end of it to make it seem more... believable?
"You're not making much sense," Neville laughed, and Liv collapsed her head down into her arms on the table with a loud groan.
"I know, I'm sorry," she said, embarrassed, peaking her head out from between her eyes to glance at the boy. "If I tell you a secret will you promise not to tell anyone?"
She held out her pinky. Neville looked at it for a moment. "I– I don't have anyone to tell," he spoke, baffled.
"Great," Liv smiled, shaking his pinky that was entwined with his. "That means no one will find out,"
"He's a werewolf,"
At worse, Neville could have hit her around the face, or shouted the whole pub down in disgrace at the news – that's how bad her father had made being a werewolf out to be. But Neville sat still, expression barely changing.
"I can't believe I just said that outloud," Liv muttered quietly, the lack of response from Neville making her literally die.
"Is that why you got to upset about Snape's class?" He asked, Liv hadn't noticed she'd been holding her breath until she let it all out at once in a thankful sigh.
"Yes, yes that's right," Liv replied, the happy gleam returning to her face as she smiled.
Neville, on the other hand, suddenly did the opposite – beginning to frown. "Now I feel bad,"
"Feel bad about what, Neville?" Liv asked curiously, swigging her drink.
"Writing an essay on how to kill them," Neville said flatly. Liv nearly spat the drink straight back up. "I wouldn't want your Dad dead,"
"Oh!" Liv blurted out, shocked. "That's not how many people feel about werewolves, but, don't worry, I burnt all those papers so he wouldn't have to read them,"
Neville frowned again, his eyebrows creasing. "Who?"
"Professor Lupin, of course!" Liv responded, eyeing him strangely – wasn't that clear?
"What's Professor Lupin got to do with your father being a werewolf?"
"Oh, wait – oh, fuck!" Liv blurted out. "Merlin, this Butterbeer must be getting to my head or something! I meant I destroyed the essay's before Professor Lupin read them so it basically means they were never written, I mean, there's no proof anyway,"
As Ronald would have said, what the bloody hell was that?
"That's smart," Neville said. Liv gave him a satisfied wink as she took a sip of her drink. " – and brave of you. Gryffindor's lucky to have you,"
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ೃ༄ sorry that this chapter is on
the short side, but i wanted to thank
everyone for reaching 10k reads on
this story! it means so much to me,
i hope you're all enjoying it so far,
there's so much more to come! <3