Neoma kept her eyes trained on the moving scenery as Brityn went on a longwinded tirade about the muggleborn she'd been paired up with for a duel in Defense Against the Dark Arts.
"He could barely stand after I was done with him. The little mudblood almost got a good shot on me, too, but obviously I was way faster than he was."
Neoma tried to block out the girl's nasally boast, leaning on her hand sleepily. Her gaze crept over to Narcissa who was absentmindedly nodding at Brityn's words, though her expression was miles away.
The Hogwarts Express began slowing down, and greenery turned to stone. Neoma scanned the platform as they came to a full stop, looking for her father anxiously.
She would be notified if he died, right?
It was a legitimate question. If her father's motives were discovered, Voldemort would not hesitate to kill him off and Nicodemus Nott's name would be forgotten quickly. Perhaps the Dark Lord would then disguise himself as Nicodemus, pick up Neoma, and throw her into the River Thames himself. Wouldn't that be an honor?
A breath of relief escaped from her lungs when she saw a gruff-looking man standing away from the crowd, his hands shoved in his pockets. She couldn't make out his features from this distance, but she would recognize his silhouette anywhere.
"Neoma, will you be coming to the Malfoy's New Years party this year?" Narcissa asked as she stood, shrugging on her fur-trimmed coat and grabbing her trunk.
"I do think you should come - your absence at events is getting quite suspicious." Brytin drawled, tying up her hair. Narcissa shot her a warning glare. "What Cissy? You know I'm right."
"Don't listen to her." Narcissa grumbled. "You should come, though. We miss you."
"We'll probably be there." Neoma forced a smile, grabbing the handle of their compartment's door. "Have a Merry Christmas - tell Andromeda hi for me."
"Merry Christmas, Noma." Narcissa gave her a brief hug before stepping back, rolling her eyes in annoyance as Brityn started slowly lacing up the boots that she'd taken off for the ride.
Neoma made a quick exit from the compartment, entering the sea of students pushing through the narrow train corridor. There was a bottleneck near the closest exit, and she yawned as she waited to get off of the cramped locomotive.
"Have a nice Christmas Neoma," someone spoke from her side. Neoma glanced over her shoulder and was face-to-face with none other than Lily Evans.
They were not friends, but Lily seemed to have come to terms with the fact that Neoma was not the evil, prejudiced Slytherin that she envisioned. The two worked well together in potions, and Neoma actually seemed interested in learning about Lily's life in the muggle world.
"You too, Lily." She smiled. "Any fun plans?"
"Well, James is actually having a small get together ... I was thinking of going."
James Potter was a popular topic of conversation while Lily, Remus, Amos, and Neoma cut up ingredients and stirred cauldrons. Neoma hadn't spoken to him in months (since he'd taken ten points from her, actually), but it seemed like his bigheadedness was not a trait reserved for the Slytherins that crossed his path - it just came in different flavors.
"That's a surprise." Neoma rose a brow, shuffling forward slightly with the crowd. "Did he put you under the imperius curse?"
"No." A blush spread across Lily's cheeks. "I dunno - he's been half pleasant this year. I figured I'd give a dog a bone."
Neoma giggled, taking a sigh of relief as they finally stepped off of the train. "I hope you have a nice holiday, Lily. I'll see you in 1978!"
"You too - see you in the new year!"
Neoma almost reached out for a hug, but decided against it as she turned away from the fiery-haired Gryffindor. Lily had been kind to her, but she still harbored an unspoken degree of mistrust toward the Slytherin. Neoma didn't want to overstep any boundaries.
"Was Lily just smiling at Neoma Nott?" James asked Remus, squinting behind his round-framed glasses.
"They're partners in Potions - you knew that." Remus explained casually, glancing around the platform for his parents.
"I didn't know they were chummy!"
"Neoma's actually really nice." Remus shrugged. "I'm honestly surprised she's in Slytherin."
James watched as Lily started to walk away from the exchange, and he took a moment to ensure she found her parents before finding Neoma in the crowd once more. "Well, that would be why." James mumbled, nodding toward the dark-haired girl who was now walking toward a tall, looming man with gray-streaked hair pulled back into a stern knot. "Nicodemus Nott is a known Death Eater. No one can prove it so he hasn't been touched but ... we all know."
Remus watched with interest as Neoma's father grinned once he spotted his daughter, his face dropping about ten years of age in a matter of seconds. The girl acted like she hadn't seen him for decades as she threw her arms around him.
"And she doesn't seem bothered in the slightest. Still think she's nice?"
Remus pressed his lips together, stuffing his hands into his pockets and frowning slightly as the Notts apparated away.
"I dunno, mate. She seems different than all of them. You don't know her situation."
"You don't either." James reminded him before his attention was drawn back to Lily, who was being crushed by her mother in a big bear hug.
The face of Sirius Black quickly obstructed his view, which was much less endearing.
★★★★★★★
"I love you so much." Nicodemus kissed the top of his daughter's head as he placed a cup of tea in front of her before sitting down at the kitchen table. "It's so nice to have you back."
Neoma took a sip of the piping hot liquid, wincing as it burned her tongue. "How are you, dad? How is everything?"
"Let's not talk about me yet." Nicodemus put his hand up, his wooden chair creaking as he leaned back. "How are your classes? How are your friends - are they giving you problems?"
Neoma contemplated his questions, tilting her head in thought. "Well, classes are going well. We have an interesting final project for Potions."
"What is it?"
"We have to design a potion. Did you have to do that when you were in school?"
Nicodemus took a moment to recall his years in Hogwarts, which seemed like a lifetime ago. "I was never in the advanced classes, but I do think Slughorn had Tom working on some similar project in our seventh year."
After all these years, her father still called Lord Voldemort "Tom" behind closed doors. They had been friends once, but the Tom Riddle he once knew had died long ago.
"Well I've decided to 'design' a cure for lycanthropy."
Nicodemus furrowed his brows together, a frown etching itself across his face. "Why would you want to do that - after what they did?"
"It was Voldemort who did it, Dad. He was just weaponizing people who didn't have a say in the matter."
"Fenrir Greyback is a vile creature who -"
"I'm not talking about Greyback, I'm talking about the others." Neoma traced a finger on the table, repeating a star pattern once, twice, three times. "He's infected so many people now, Dad. He infects them so they have nowhere to turn other than Voldemort's army, and then kills them if they defect. And you've heard of the poor children that -"
"Stop talking about him - please." Nicodemus nearly begged. "Not tonight - I want to enjoy tonight. I haven't seen you in months."
Neoma could hear the pain in his voice, and she wracked her brain for another topic of conversation. "Well, Gryffindor seems to be a likely candidate for the Quidditch Cup this year."
"Is Fleamont Potter's boy still captain?"
"Yeah. He's Head Boy, too."
"Really?"
"Mhm. And Lily Evans is Head Girl."
"Who's Lily Evans?"
"Another Gryffindor."
Neoma didn't disclose the fact that the girl was a muggleborn. Despite her father disagreeing with Voldemort's methods, he did still hold onto the beliefs of segregation between the wizarding and muggle worlds. 'To what end' was the question he now asked himself, and only after his wife's death did he realize that nothing could ever justify Lord Voldemort's means. This new philosophy, however, didn't change the fact that he would say something negative at the idea of a muggleborn being Head Girl instead of his daughter.
--
On Christmas the Notts had no grand breakfast, a tree was not lit, and stockings did not hang over the fireplace.
Nicodemus rolled out of bed in the early afternoon. Neoma was reading through a book on lycanthropy, stretching her toes closer to the fire to keep them warm.
Though many attempts have been made, there is no cure for lycanthropy. Once transmitted, the disease is as much a part of the body as is blood, bone, or skin. There will never be a cure according to the world's most esteemed arcanists and potioneers.
Potion Master Pontificus Leogrande has concluded that a mash of aconite and cinnamon, which can help ease the pain of one's transformation slightly, may be the best that the wizarding community can offer to those infected.
Neoma circled 'aconite and cinnamon' before flipping to the front of the book where the publishing date was printed.
1928.
As far as she knew, no real progress had been made in terms of werewolf welfare since this book was published. She still heard of 'wolf's mash' being used to this day. Maybe the book was right in the sense that no true cure could be created, but she was sure that something of better quality and outcome was possible to make.
When she heard her father's heavy footsteps, Neoma shot up and walked over to the couch where a small package sat, wrapped in dark green paper. Nicodemus was still in his bathrobe, and he grinned at the sight of his daughter in the set of red pajamas that her mother had bought her a few years prior.
"Merry Christmas!" Neoma cheered, shoving the package into her dad's arms. "Sit, sit."
Nicodemus laughed heartily, and with a flick of his wand a box flew down the stairs and settled abruptly onto Neoma's lap.
"Ladies first," he gestured toward the box, which had a pretty red bow tied haphazardly around its center. "Sorry - you know I'm not the best at wrapping."
Neoma's fingers slid into the knot and undid the bow quickly before opening the lid to the box. Inside was a brand new copper cauldron, which already looked far nicer than the one Neoma had beaten up over the past seven years.
She pulled it out gently, and her eyes widened at the collection of stars engraved on the smooth, metallic surface. There was no true pattern to them, but Neoma knew exactly what she was looking at.
When her mother died, Neoma and her father went camping for thirteen days. He didn't want to be in the house and he didn't want to be near people, so the outdoors seemed to be the only option. A wizard's version of camping is far more glamorous than the muggle alternative, but the frivolities of their tent did nothing to distract the two from their grief.
Every night they would stare up at the sky for hours, trying to distract their minds by pointing out preexisting constellations or creating their own. After a couple of days of doing this they both started to notice a particularly bright cluster, which only seemed to grow in intensity with each passing night.
This little bundle of stars hypnotized them. They would fall silent as they stared up at it, and as they were reminded of the vastness of the sky - of the universe - their grief would slip away for just a moment.
Everleigh Nott was not a perfect woman, but death seems to amplify sentiment. Nicodemus and Neoma loved her immensely, and the affair that she had been so cruelly executed for would not change that fact.
"It's beautiful, Dad. Thank you." Neoma sniffed, tears collecting in the corners of her eyes as she pulled her dad in for a hug. Nicodemus gave her a comforting squeeze before pulling away, starting to unwrap his present.
He didn't know what he was looking at at first. It was an obsidian sculpture of some sort, but of what he couldn't tell.
"Turn it ninety degrees to the right," Neoma laughed, guiding his hands in the right direction. "It's a phoenix, see?"
Nicodemus nodded slowly, rubbing a finger over the smooth surface of the stone. "It's very beautiful, Neoma. Thank you."
"I didn't just get you some random phoenix sculpture," Neoma explained, wringing her hands together nervously. "Mum actually made it. She transfigured it when she was at Hogwarts - Dumbledore gave it to me."
Nicodemus's smile faltered, and a pained expression wiped across his features as his fingers clasped around the cool stone with new meaning. Neoma smiled sadly and leaned her head on his shoulder. She reflected on how Christmas used to be such a joyous time in their household, but the life of the holiday seemed to have been snuffed out.
"We'll have to leave for the Black's in a few hours." Nicodemus revealed, shifting his body slightly so he could stand up. "They invited us for dinner ... I'm planning on skipping the Malfoy party this year, so I figured this could be the easiest way to keep up appearances."
Neoma was relieved for two reasons. One: she would not be attending the Malfoy's New Year's Party, which was sure to have Voldemort lurking around somewhere in the shadows. Two: Regulus Black was, by far, the most bearable boy in Slytherin.
★★★★★★★
"Have you been having a nice holiday so far?" Regulus asked as he walked Neoma to the kitchens. The two were instructed to find Kreacher, the family house elf, and discern the status of their dinner, but they knew that it was just an excuse to leave the adults alone for a bit. If the Blacks really wanted to ask about how dinner was coming along, they'd summon Kreacher themselves.
"It's been very relaxing." Neoma gently clasped her hands behind her back, eyes flitting across the stern portraits of former members of the Black family. "And yours?"
"Well I'm home, so ..." Regulus shrugged, and Neoma understood what he meant instantly. His parents were not known for their loving disposition.
They walked past a tapestry depicting the Black family tree. Neoma stopped for a moment, noticing a brand new scorch mark next to Regulus's name.
"They really took Sirius off?" She frowned, tracing the singed material with her finger. "I didn't know that."
"He's the one who decided to go live with Potter." Regulus muttered darkly, turning on his heel and continuing his walk to the kitchens. "C'mon."
"Yeah, aright." Neoma sighed, leaving the tapestry behind as she trailed after the youngest Black.
Kreacher was a grumpy old elf, but his loyalty could not be questioned as he flitted around the kitchen passionately, making sure that dinner would be prepared on time. Neoma had never seen him so happy.
"Master Black!" Kreacher exclaimed nervously, stooping into a deep bow. "Why are you in the kitchens, Sir? Is Kreacher behind schedule?"
"No Kreacher you're fine," Regulus promised, pulling out a chair and gesturing for Neoma to sit. "We're just here for a visit."
Kreacher nodded and began to work on the evening's fixings once more, pulling out a stack of cloth napkins and folding them by hand.
"What d'you reckon they're talking about in there?" Regulus asked, sitting down across from Neoma. "Maybe you'll be the lucky broad to bring mini Reguluses into the world."
"Nothing excites me more than being the next Mrs. Black," Neoma scoffed, unbothered by the very real implications of Regulus's joke. Even if her father nodded along to an engagement proposal from the Black family, she knew he wouldn't expect her to fulfil the commitment. "I hope they have your eyes."
"I hope they have my eyes as well." Regulus nodded firmly, drawing his eyebrows together as he gave Neoma a once-over. "And my hair, and my sense of fashion. And personality."
"I'm happy you amuse yourself, Reg." Neoma laughed, crossing her arms as she leaned back in her seat. "So how are your classes going?"
"Dreadful," Regulus shook his head. "I keep getting compared to Sirius by all of my professors. 'Sirius was so good at charms', 'Sirius would be able to transfigure this rat', blah, blah, blah."
"It doesn't help that he's a Gryffindor." Neoma pointed out. "Professors definitely have an issue with Slytherins."
"It's bullshit." Regulus frowned. "You going to the Malfoy party this year?"
"That's the plan!" Neoma lied, knowing fully well that she and her father would be ringing in the New Year alone. "Is ... are you - uh ... you know."
"Am I being turned into a death eater?" He rose a brow. Neoma nodded awkwardly.
"I dunno, really." His shoulders slumped forward, and he began to play with the cufflink on his sleeve. "There have been whispers of it, but we've been kept in the dark. It's like they wanna surprise us."
"Are any girls going to be indoctrinated, d'you think?"
"Nah, not yet." Regulus shook his head. "But Bellatrix seems to be particularly passionate about the cause. It wouldn't surprise me if she takes the mark before most of us."
Neoma nodded slowly, agreeing with his prediction. "My dad's been talking about it recently. Wants me to join when I graduate."
Her words were utter bullshit, but she hoped that this bit of information would spread amongst her peers to squash their rising suspicions toward the Nott family.
"Are you going to?"
"I'd like to avoid it, honestly."
"I don't blame you." Regulus pursed his lips. "I mean, I agree with Lord Voldemort and all, but I feel like the dark mark kinda ... sells away your soul. I don't want to feel like I'm trapped there forever."
"Yeah, same."
New day, same half-truths.
Regulus pulled a funny face at Neoma when their parents weren't looking, causing her to smile behind her wine glass.
Dinner had been served and eaten. Kreacher served a delectable spread of savoury pies, roasted potatoes, parsnips, and carrots, and his Christmas stuffing, which had candied cranberries sprinkled throughout.
They were exchanging pleasantries as they waited for dessert. Walburga and Orion had exhausted their line of questioning toward Neoma, and so they turned their attention to Nicodemus, recalling times past, discussing the political climate at The Ministry, and eventually broaching the topic of Lord Voldemort.
"It surprises me that you have not officially joined the cause, Orion." Nicodemus pressed. "And you, Walburga. You two are as unhappy with the state of things as anyone."
"We support Lord Voldemort fully." Orion defended, nodding toward his son. "Regulus is bound to get the mark over the summer."
"You both should come to the next meeting. Your absence is noticed - you would receive a warm welcome."
"Our absence is noticed." Walburga scoffed. "We are the Blacks and we may do as we please. Tom Riddle can not bully us into risking our lives, when we have a healthy son perfectly capable of - "
"Walburga." Orion firmly cut her off, clamping his hand around her wrist and squeezing it as hard as he could. "Sorry, Nicodemus - you know my wife. Her filter seemed to have been left behind in her mother's womb. Forgive her."
"It would be best to remove the Dark Lord's past from your mind, Walburga." Nicodemus warned. "Tom Riddle is dead, and a champion of freedom has risen. Lord Voldemort will revive the safe, powerful, and fair world that our ancestors knew and loved. Even if you do not join him physically, it would be wise to support him fully behind closed doors."
Neoma's stomach twisted. She had been avoiding these kinds of gatherings for over two years; seeing her father play the role of Lord Voldemort's loyal servant was like stepping into a Pensieve.
"I will proudly represent the Black family amongst his ranks." Regulus interjected passionately, though given their prior conversation, Neoma could tell it was a façade. "My mother and father have been shining examples of what it means to be a wizarding family. Do not doubt their loyalty to the cause because they want to preserve their legacy, Mister Nott."
Walburga's eyes shone with pride at the words of her son.
"Do not speak so confidently to your superiors, Regulus. You are just a boy." Orion chided, though a spark of satisfaction was present in his tone.
Nicodemus couldn't help but smile sadly. Regulus Black was a fine young man, but he was misguided. He didn't deserve the life that awaited him.
"What about you, Neoma?" Walburga asked, her attention falling to the girl quietly observing their conversation. "Will you be receiving the mark?"
Without a beat, Neoma nodded with false enthusiasm. "Yes, Mrs. Black. My father wishes for me to officially join The Dark Lord after I graduate Hogwarts."
Walburga glanced between her son and the beautiful, well-mannered daughter of Nicodemus. What a perfect match, she thought to herself. Neoma Nott, besmirched by her mother's poor choices, and her son, weighed down by a brother who would choose Gryffindors and mudbloods over his own kin. The two could build each other up again, and continue their bloodlines under a new age of the wizarding world.
★★★★★★★
"I don't see Neoma anywhere." Brityn Crabbe sneered, glancing around the Malfoy's ballroom. "This is the third year in a row. She can't possibly think she'll get away with this."
Narcissa frowned. "She said she'd be here."
"Well, she'll have to be eventually - I heard from Regulus that Neoma will be a death eater once she graduates. Isolating herself is only going to make her untrustworthy in the eyes of The Dark Lord."
Narcissa didn't speak her thoughts out loud, but she just couldn't picture Neoma with that ugly mark on her forearm. After sharing a dorm with her for seven years, she knew that Neoma Nott was a quiet individual with no real hatred toward anybody. Joining a pack of brute idealists didn't line up with her personality.
I guess we all have to go through with things we don't want. Narcissa thought bitterly, finding Lucius in the crowd.
She wished they could run away together - to escape from their families. From Lord Voldemort. She loved Lucius dearly, and though he wouldn't tell her, she knew of the terrible things he did when she wasn't around.
While everyone in this room danced as they always had, tension hung in the air. War was coming - of that much she was certain. She only hoped that their family would be on the right side of history, and that after all of this, she could enjoy a peaceful, perfect life with her soon-to-be husband.
★★★★★★★
Lily and James shared a sweet, short kiss in his kitchen. Loud music came from his living room, where their closest friends were dancing and singing and drinking and talking.
A faint blush spread across Lily's cheeks as she pulled away. James stared down at her in shock, but he decided now wasn't the best time for some witty remark.
"Don't make me regret that, Potter." She murmured, her green eyes inspecting every inch of his face. "I just wanted you to know ... that."
"I do think you'll have to explain "that" to me, Evans." James rose a brow. "I think you know how I feel about you. I don't want to read too much into this if you didn't really mean it."
Lily sighed, nervously playing with the hem of her skirt. "I ... meant it. I know I should hate you, for what you did to Severus, and this is selfish of me to say but ... " she gulped. "But it was then that I realized how much you really cared for me, and how much you've affected my life. I was so alone when I first came to Hogwarts. I didn't know anyone, and my first interaction with a wizard was Lucius Malfoy calling me a mudblood. I didn't even know what it meant, but I wanted to go home as soon as he said it."
"I'm happy you didn't." James listened to her intently.
"You were so kind to me from the start. You turned into a massive git -"
"Hey!"
"But you never made me feel unwelcome. You - your friends - our friends -" Lily gulped. "You were the one to introduce me to everyone. And you never stopped caring for me, even when I stopped caring for you."
James's expression fell for a moment, but he knew he couldn't blame Lily for her words. He did bully her best friend mercilessly for many years.
"I guess what I'm trying to say is - thank you. Thank you for loving me. I took it for granted - I hated it. But with everything going on..." Lily's eyes welled with tears as she thought about the most recent headline in The Daily Prophet.
20 MUGGLES DEAD IN LONDON ATTACK. THREE MUGGLEBORNS MISSING. VOLDEMORT STRIKES AGAIN.
"And don't say you don't love me, because I know you do."
"Who told you?" James joked, knowing full well that he was never subtle about his feelings toward Lily Evans. His face fell quickly, though, thinking about the implication of her last words. "But ... Lily. I won't let anything happen to you, do you hear me?" He frowned, taking her hand hesitantly, watching her expression to make sure this action was okay with her. She didn't even flinch.
"I don't know what I would do if - if you ... " James's voice cracked. Lily had never seen him so vulnerable before, and her heart ached. "I don't care if you never love me back. I will never let them touch you or your family."
Lily didn't know if she loved him - not yet. But she pulled the boy into a desperate hug, and let a few tears fall as she buried her face into his chest.