You could say that my parents took the betrayal well. But then you'd be lying.
It threw quite a wrench in their plans. The troublesome child was gone, but still remained a black hole on the family tree and a stain on the family name.
His betrothal plans were all canceled, and Mother and Father furiously tried to find another way to get back into the Greengrasses' good graces. But the damage was done, and old blood had more pride than riches.
A year later and my fourth year was to start. And what a start it was. One brother down, the laughingstock of the pureblood families, our prestige taking a nosedive and the other pure bloods circling like vultures. We'd made a bit of recovery in the past year, but not a lot. Not enough.
Mother made sure I had the best clothes and beauty products. I was well versed in beautifying charms, glamour, hair curling, longer and thicker eyelashes, you name it. There were spells for the perfect bun, spells to grow hair and remove it, spells for perfectly done nails and everything else under the sun. And I had to practice them to perfection.
You could say I was very good at charms and potions because of this. But I hate giving Mother credit for anything.
Armed with galleons upon galleons worth of clothes and hand me down textbooks I was more unprepared for school than I'd ever been. Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, all my cousins had already graduated. Unable to harp at me or keep me on my toes throughout the school year.
Despite all the magic in the world, glamour can't cover everything. So even though it's a fairly warm day, I wrap my Slytherin scarf securely around my still bruised neck. Long sleeves white and frilly, a stylish black skirt hugging my hips before falling loosely to the floor, and a black necklace make up the rest of my outfit.
Peering into the mirror, I can confirm what I already know.
I'm much skinnier than I was a year ago. Noticeable enough for it to be a potential problem. But it's unlikely. Sunken cheeks and pale skin aren't uncommon. Walburga thinks it makes a woman look more regal. Like cousin Bella. I think it makes us look more feral.
But perhaps it is the same thing.
"WHERE IS THAT DARNED GIRL!!"
At Walburga's shrill voice I still can't help but flinch. Scrambling for my trunk as my breathing turns erratic. We can't be late. I can't make us late.
Shaking off my panic, I rush down the stairs as fast as I can, my trunk's weight making my arms tremble. But I can't drop it. With the death grip I have on it, it's more likely to pull me down with it then anything else.
That's probably not good.
But whatever. I have more immediate things to think about. Like the witch currently screaming in my face. A shadow is all the warning I get before I'm knocked to the ground again.
Pain cuts through my haze, a boney, but strong hand is pressing down on one of my many bruises, hauling me, and in turn my trunk, up and out of the house before apparating quickly. I'm convinced one of these days she'll splinch me on purpose just to watch me bleed out on the floor. Not today though.
My head is still spinning when she lets me go, and I barely manage to stay upright. Regulus disappears quickly, leaving me to handle myself.
Poor little Reggie, I can't help but feel bitter. Sirius left and now it's like we aren't even siblings. I was the punching bag for the past year and he didn't even speak a word.
I got on the train, and wandered down listlessly, passing compartments full of noise and crowds of friends, new and old. I didn't have any. People tried, but with the decrease in our family's popularity, I can't say I'm surprised.
I'm not paying enough attention to my surroundings, and fall to the floor again, when someone bumps into me. How embarrassing.
"Sorry about that." A hand makes its way into my line of sight and I let it haul me into a standing position. I don't look up, and instead try to locate my trunk, assuming whoever it is will move on. Most do.
"Do I know you from somewhere? You look familiar." I finally find my trunk and am able to haul it back up and into my hands. Looking up for the first time, I nearly drop it right back onto the floor.
James Potter, in all his messy glory, stands there, watching me with curious eyes. His hair is everywhere, and tucked behind his ear is his wand. Shirt untucked, tie missing, the famous Gryffindor is very solid, very there, and very much not moving on.
"You might have seen me around, but I'm a fourth year." I keep it clipped and civil. If there were to be a person who rivaled my hate for my mother and father, it would be him. In my eyes, it's his fault Sirius is gone, that I'm in this mess. If he hadn't befriended him, he wouldn't have anywhere else to go and would've just stayed at Grimmauld place.
"Maybe..." he looked unconvinced. "Hey Padfoot! Would you come out here? I need your help identifying a girl, and you seem to know them all."
Padfoot? Who in the wizarding world could that be? Of course, James really only hung out with a few people, meaning it could be that scarred boy, Remus, the short chubby one Peter, or-
"The only female folk you can identify are your mother and Evans. Look up once and awhile, will you?" Collar popped, hair secured in a man bun with a wand, and a swagger in his step that faltered when we made eye contact. " 'quila ?"
Like a startled unicorn, I wanted to run. It was too soon, I wasn't ready. Not to face him, or anything that had gone down this past year.
"This your sister Pads?" James looked utterly confused.
"No." The word was out of my mouth faster than I could think about it. I could see his eyes dull a bit at the response, and his mouth screwed shut. Tightly. Like Father's would, right before...
I'm spiraling, and I know it.
"Hey. Hey!" I'm snapped back into reality, with a hand waving in front of my face and the concerned look of my oldest brother's best friend. "You okay?"
"Of course."
"Of course not." Me and Sirius chorus at the same time, making me glare at him.
The hurt is gone, replaced by sorrow, worry, and a hint of anger. "What did they do to you little bird?"
The nickname would have me in tears if I was still nine. But I'm not. Aquila is the eagle constellation, so Sirius thought the nickname quite ingenious back when I was five.
"What does it matter Siri?" I spit out the words, fast and bitter, because if I don't say it fast I won't say it at all. "You left. It clearly doesn't concern you anymore."
I can tell by the way his eyes linger on my scarf and long sleeved clothes that he knows. And the anger in his eyes ticks me off to no end. Didn't he know this would happen? Their anger had to go somewhere, and no one would ever think they'd hit their golden boy Reg.
"You know I know what you're going through. Let me do something."
"Like walk out on me again? You left us. What did you think would happen? We'd all the sudden become a functioning family?" He looks more pained than anything and drops his eyes from my furious gaze. Good.
"So you are his sister?" If possible, James's face had screwed up into even deeper confusion.
Wow he's slow.
"Congratulations Potter, you finally put two and two together. You want a sticker for recognizing your best mate's sister?" Was it a bit mean? Yes. That was kinda the point.
"Aquila." My eyes flicker back to see my brother's fierce glare. If anything it only ticks me off more, but I cover it with a signature smirk that only he could have taught me.
"Apologies, I suppose it isn't really his fault that he's so slow. Perhaps he was dropped as babe, or maybe being around you killed too many of his brain cells." As it turns out, Sirius looks remarkably like Father when he glowers, and it took everything in me not to flinch.
"He's done more for me than you and that rotten family ever have. So what does it matter what state his brain is in, so long as he has a bit of soul left?" Ouch. I think I prefer Father's punches to Siri calling me soulless. He might not be wrong though, I feel pretty empty.
"Sirius? James? What's taking so long?" A boy covered in scars walks out, and I know this is Remus, the werewolf. Sirius told me all about his new friends when he came home in the summer, telling me all about their adventures and secret plan to become animagi. In spite of myself and apparent soullessness, I can't help but soften. It's impossible for me to be mad at someone who has gone through more pain than I ever have.
"It's nothing...Remus? Or do you prefer Lupin? I accidentally bumped into Potter here and um... I'll just be on my way." I awkwardly shuffled past the three Marauders and continued down the hall.