"Do you mind if I have this duel?"
A voice called in front of Freya Grey as she retied her shoelaces. Her eyes moved before her head did. Standing to her feet, she only offered a slight nod to Barty Crouch Jr, though he seemed satisfied with the small gesture. Both of them moved to the ends of their small dueling mats as they were supposed to practice gentle block spells with one another (the ministry would not want to risk a student getting hurt in the middle of a war).
She straightened her shoulders and waited for him to start, but his mouth moved faster than his hand. "Sirius Black's a prat." Her cool eyes meeting his was the only indication that she'd heard him. "I should have hexed him the moment he started talking about you." With a crooked smile, Barty tilted his head. "Up until then, I say our date went well, wouldn't you agree?"
Date. Freya had almost forgotten about it... or so she tried. In fact, she had thought about it quite a few times since that night. And every night since when he stopped talking to her. Not that that mattered anyways. She, apparently having seduced both Black brothers, was now the Slytherin Slag, and he was a Ministry's Head's son. Chances of a second date seemed slim to none.
However, who needed a second date when they had one of the most complex potions in Wizarding History near her fingertips. That's where her head should be.
Still, it would be a shame to throw good networking away.
"I suppose."
"Good." A dimple formed on his cheek, then he saw her gaze catch on something at the far end of the classroom. Sure enough, a few boys in Slytherin robes were watching them both and whispering. "Don't mind them." Leaning his boy forward, he added a hushed tone to his words. "They're just jealous I'm talking to a pretty girl."
She rolled her eyes and cast a soft hex at him, but that did not stop him from blocking and continuing his little flirty charade.
With an expression that seemed like he had munched on coffee beans, Sirius Black silently mimicked one of Barty's lines he heard across the classroom.
Merlin, drop your trousers, why don't you? Sirius thought to himself, finding Barty's voice positively annoying. Even more annoying was Freya standing there, almost dead silent, only gently curling her lips up at every comment or offering what Sirius hoped was a snarky remark to the clear attempts to shag her.
If only Barty heard comments when she was in private and away from prying eyes, his body would be black and blue from her verbal lashings. Barty's probably never even spoken adequately with that insufferable girl, or else he'd know she's not going to be wooed by a few kind words and a well-fitting shirt. Not that it was any of his business. They hadn't spoken in days, and he, while he fully admits to being wrong about what happened at the dance, stands by the fact she should at least be somewhat grateful that she can even still glare at him with her near-black eyes instead of being a corpse rotting at the lab.
"Now, I just think you're showing off." Barty teased with a smirk at Freya.
As if second nature, Sirius mumbled the phrase while making crude expressions.
"Are you okay?" Asked one of Sirius's colleagues, snapping Sirius's attention off the two Slytherins.
Having finally noticed what he was doing, Sirius touched his finger to his mouth. "Bad lip cramp."
Class went on as usual, with more flirting on Barty's part and more scowling on Sirius's end.
"Pleasure speaking with you as always, Freya." Were the words Barty had said when he parted ways with her at the door, and Freya was confident that it was the first time those exact words were uttered to her without being sarcastic. It also did not escape her notice that Barty smelled like smoked wood and cologne as he pressed past her through the doorway, and it was not unpleasant.
That slightly bothered Freya as she walked back to the common room.
She had not wanted him to stink, but perhaps some unpleasant note of feet would have humbled his character a bit--
"Freya."
The breath curled around her ear, and Freya whirled around wand out. Like a turtle, Severus Snape used his neck to pull his head back from her dragon heartstring wand, and Freya found the act slightly endearing. But only tucked her wand away and continued on her path, knowing Sev would be at her heels. "I almost hexed you."
"Sorry." He mumbled, keeping pace with her strides easily since she was a head shorter than him. After a moment, he took a small book out of his cloak pocket and flashed the cover at Freya. "I have something I want to show you."
Familiarity flickered across her face. Then, she turned her heel and headed for the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest.
***
For a Forbidden Forest, it was strangely pleasant if you knew where to go. Sure, deep in, you may get shot in the heart by a centaur (but really, that's your fault for getting onto their property). However, near the outskirts of the Black Lake, there were stretches of peaceful air where crows flew over their heads across the grey sky.
Leaning against a tree, Severus Snape bit his lip as he watched Freya's eyes read over what was essentially a diary bound in Libatius Borage's Advanced Potion-Making book. Severus had a habit of finding authors painfully incompetent, leading him to write several notes in the margins that escalated to entire magical advancements hidden in his secondhand book.
Silence finally gave Sev his fill and he sat down next to Freya on the trunk of a fallen-over tree. "What do you think?"
Without moving her eyes off the page, she answered, "It's interesting."
"Do you think it could work now?"
"Possibly."
"Why possibly?"
Her eyes flicked up to his, then back at the book. "You've already tested it."
"Barely maimed a bird." He admitted running hands through his hair, his posture bending worst. "It should have worked." All it took was a simple healing spell, and the stupid bird was on its merry way. Pitiful.
Freya scanned over the disappointment on his face and fought an urge to pat his head in a comforting manner, but knew that'd be awkward for them both. Instead, she turned back to the book. "Sev, why did you make this?"
"I thought it'd be interesting."
"Torture is very amusing."
Pressing his lips together, Sev seemed to find her sarcasm humorus yet frustrating. But then, his eyes darted around the dirt, and his fingers played with the air. "Things are coming, and I can't--" Words were difficult to form in his mouth, but Freya listened patiently. "I want to be able to protect... us." Some passion built up in his throat, and his eyes were now fixed on one spot in his mind. "All of us. You, Lily, and Regulus."
"You don't need to protect us, Sev," Freya replied, quietly.
He shook his head stubbornly. "Family protects each other." An odd expression crossed his face, and Freya tried to hold in shock at the word. Family. Quickly, Sev's tongue moved to correct his mistake. "Not that we're a family-- it's just the concept, I mean. Generally, but not all families. Neither of our families do that. My father's a bastard, and yours is dead, so it's--"
"I accept." The phrase gets awkwardly slammed in the air and knocks the letters off Sev's tongue as he looks at her with confusion, but she seems equally as confused.
"What?"
Freya blinked, then found interest in her fingernail polish. "Other people have their houses to get ahead. It would be beneficial to have some form of an alliance."
"An alliance..."Sev nodded slowly, then they both seemed interested in the forest in front of them for several minutes.
***
When they both returned to the common room, Mason Avery and Finnick Mulciber were chatting at the corner of the dungeon. A fresh smile painted on both their faces as they caught sight of Severus and Freya, who had not talked much since their declaration of kinship.
Mason clapped his hand on Sev's shoulder, and silently, Sev said goodbye to Freya with his eyes, knowing they were about to drag him off somewhere. Freya gave an approving glance back, though she had reservations about his company.
Both pureblood boys seemed oblivious to this interaction. Still, Finnick regarded Freya in a surprisingly friendly manner considering he was a much closer friend of Evan Rosier, who was less than keen on Freya. Dramatically, he stated the Slytherin common room password and gestured for Freya to go in first. Freya hated this notion but knew it was bad manners to refuse and walked in.
Finnick indiscreetly kept his eyes around her rear as she passed them, making Mason shake his head and Severus slightly uncomfortable.
Unaware of that, Freya found a familiar pale, thin boy draped over his favorite couch with parchment placed over a book on his lap. Regulus hated using desks while he drew. Either give him an easel or accept that any flat surface near him will turn into a drawing board. As she approached him, she noticed that his eyes were following her, then flicked the Severus, Mason, and Finnick, but thought nothing of it while Freya lifted his legs so she could sit at the other end of the couch, then dropped his legs on her lap.
"Where were you?" An edge came in Regs's voice and Freya eyed him.
"I was with Sev."
"Just Sev?"
"Yes." Something grey moved beneath the surface of her best friend's face, and he seemed like he'd just swallowed tar, but he said nothing. A stiff wall formed in front of his emotions, and Freya was worried. "Regs?"
"I'm tired." He stated, then took his legs off her lap and left.
A few third-years nearby giggled at this, having heard the interaction. More proof of the bitter romance between the House of Grey and the House of Black. But Regs wished things were as simple as a fling between his best mate and his brother. Instead, the pressure in his chest was formed by romance rather than the unbearable feeling that invisible strings were slowly pulling his closest friend from him and he would not know until it was too late. Until he, too, would have to succumb to the threads already dragging his joints like a puppeteer.
To this terrible dread, Regulus Black, final heir to the Black throne, collapsed face down on his bed and hoped the position would suffocate him in his sleep. Or, at least, give him a good nap.