October, 1976. Hogwarts.
As Regulus had cleverly guessed, Maynard Nott wasn't long in inviting Alya to go out with him. The girl gladly accepted the proposal. It was her first real date with a guy and, before then, Alya had never shown any particular interest in the handsome boy who was now courting her. Although Maynard Nott was one of the most popular students in Slytherin House and enjoyed considerable success among the girls - Philippa first among them - Alya certainly didn't belong to the group of his admirers. To be honest, Alya had never shown any kind of interest in any boy in general. The romantic side typical of adolescence seemed to be alien to her.
Nevertheless, she had enjoyed this sudden turn of events and had felt flattered. After all, Maynard Nott, besides being a good-looking and elegant boy, belonged to a high-ranking family - like Alya's - and of pure lineage. The Slytherin girls were clamouring for a date with him.
The big day soon came. It was the third Saturday in October, the date on which a visit to Hogsmeade had been arranged for Hogwarts students.
Alya and Nott had arranged to meet early in the afternoon, so she left the Great Hall and her lunch banquet earlier than usual to go to the Slytherin girls' dormitory to prepare herself carefully and quietly. Her little group of friends followed her faithfully, even though Philippa showed a pulled expression, with tight, clenched lips, as if she had forcefully swallowed a lemon. Melyssa tried to shoulder her blonde friend's discontent, but still couldn't hold back enthusiastic exclamations, which she and Beth addressed to Alya. Both of them did nothing but repeat phrases like:
"You're going out with Maynard Nott, can you believe it? How can you be so relaxed?"
"What if he tries to kiss you?"
Beth and Melyssa's trilling questions accompanied Alya all the way into the room the four girls shared, and gave no sign of dying out even as Alya began to slip off her school uniform to put on the dress she had chosen for the occasion. From the depths of her large trunk, Alya pulled out a black velvet dress, simple in cut but very elegant. It had long sleeves that flared wide at the elbows; despite the fabric's sustained thickness, ideal for coping with the cold, crisp air that reigned around Hogwarts at that time of year, the dress hugged Alya's body tightly, emphasising her slender figure and highlighting her slim waist. A wide, long, soft skirt covered Alya's legs down to below the knees (the good taste shared by the pureblood families of the high society of the time would not have allowed shorter measurements). At the level of the collarbones, the dark fabric of the dress opened like a curtain in a slight V-neckline, welcoming the heavy silver pendant Alya had received as a gift from her mother. Apart from the precious family heirloom, Alya wore no other jewellery, except for two sumptuous earrings, also made of silver, with white opal stones that hung exquisitely from the lobes. Normally Alya was not in the habit of wearing earrings or other jewellery, following her mother's tradition of displaying sombre sobriety and avoiding frivolity, but given the occasion Alya thought it appropriate to adorn herself properly. Not even Walburga would have objected, knowing that she was about to spend a few hours in the company of a great catch, such as Maynard Nott.
Alya admired her own reflection in the mirror with satisfaction: the black fabric of her dress, which echoed the shades of her long, shiny hair falling loose over one shoulder like a soft, raven cascade, emphasised the pale skin of her face. The iridescent light of the opals, on the other hand, emphasised the natural sparkle of her glittering grey eyes. The final effect might have been considered a little too elegant for a simple afternoon stroll in a village, but the ego and vanity inherent in Alya's soul cried out their approval. Behind her back, Beth and Melyssa sighed in admiration; Philippa, on the other hand, flaunted an expression of contemptuous indifference, locked in a gloomy muteness that showed her envy even more clearly. Alya did not regret for a moment her companion's latent rancour, but rather silently rejoiced in it: as Regulus had asserted, Alya loved to see Philippa, who had always been in competition with her in every respect, blush with envy.
The young Black finally grabbed a large cloak that she would wear to protect herself from the cold, rushing wind outside and walked towards the common room, with her friends following her like a handful of handmaidens.
Alya and Nott had arranged to meet in front of the large marble fireplace, to share the journey that would take them to Hogsmeade.
The Slytherin common room was bathed in the torpor of the fire and invaded by a faint, relaxed buzz of students intent on chatting. When Alya made her appearance, the chattering stopped and many of the boys turned to look at her, assuming dumbfounded expressions. Alya took pleasure in those glances. Maynard Nott also noticed the eager, rapt looks of his companions and an expression of triumph appeared on his face. He stood up, showing his own elegance in turn: he wore an impeccable dark suit, which emphasised his slender yet virile figure. He greeted Alya with a broad smile and strutted towards her.
"Black, you are truly a charm," he proclaimed with a satisfied smile.
He gently grasped Alya's hand and brushed the back of it with his lips. Alya welcomed the compliment with a discreet smile. She immediately realised that it was a studied gesture devoid of spontaneity, dedicated only to displaying gallantry. Nevertheless, it had the desired effect, at least in the small group of girls perched around a nearby table: Alya heard a tangle of dreamy sighs, followed by an immediate murmur of comments and giggles. Beth, Melyssa and Philippa - who had become even livelier in the face at the sight of Nott's kissing - discreetly took their leave of Alya, moving quickly away to give the couple some privacy. The handful of chattering girls immediately joined them, hungry for gossip.
Alya observed the scene from the corner of her eye with satisfaction: Maynard Nott knew well how to draw attention to himself and Alya didn't despise being part of it.
The boy then extended his arm towards his beautiful young lady.
"Shall we go?" Nott proposed in a polite tone, but without managing to disguise a certain resoluteness.
"Of course!" asserted Alya, clinging gently to the offered arm.
Together, they crossed the room, both delighting in the admiring and curious glances inevitably glued on them. Nott opened the front door of the common room and invited, like a good gentleman as he had evidently been instructed, his lady to precede him. When the door closed again behind the couple's back, a fervent hubbub, pregnant with impertinent and malicious appreciations and considerations, flooded the Slytherin common room copiously.
***
Alya and Nott arrived at Hogsmeade and gazed listlessly at the shop windows that lined the main road that snaked through the village. There was nothing new to their eyes: both had visited the village countless times over the previous years. Neither Maynard Nott nor Alya had much desire to wander around the shops, jostled by the throngs of students who thronged the streets. When the boy suggested they take refuge in a tea room of his acquaintance, run by a certain Madame Puddifoot, which was not far from them, Alya felt quite relieved. The cold autumn wind was becoming more and more unbearable, as was the constant bumping into unfamiliar shoulders. Sitting in a sheltered place - and, above all, indoors - surrounded by warm drinks was just what young Black needed.
Nott dragged Alya into a side alleyway which led to a small, almost hidden signposted tearoom. The place was small and discreet, white drapes dangled frivolously from tables and walls. With a hint of reluctance, Alya weighed the quality of the environment. It was a place a little too affected for her austere tastes, inherited from her mother Walburga. In stark contrast to Alya's tacit considerations, Nott seemed very proud of his choice and strutted boldly into the tearoom, occupying a secluded table, bathed in the whiteness of embroidered fabrics. With a peremptory wave of his hand, failing in his attempt to appear gallant, the young Quidditch captain invited the girl to join him. As she entered the tiny room, Alya felt a growing sense of revulsion. Everything looked to exude a sugary, cloying aura: the tablecloths, the tables, the chairs - the sugar bowls; even the air one breathed seemed imbued with the same viscous, honey-sweet consistency. The feeling of rejection grew when Alya placed her eyes, always ready for judgement, on the customers crowding the room: there were only couples, intent on exchanging languid glances or - even worse - loud wet kisses. A revolting sight, to say the least, in Alya's rigid opinions. For a brief, but very conflicted instant, Alya was almost on the verge of backing down and walking out of that honeyed place, thus abandoning her ego-overflowing knight. But she desisted from her sudden rush to escape.
Alya joined Nott at the small table he had chosen and sat haughtily on the lace-trimmed chair, slipping off the heavy cloak that encircled her shoulders. As Alya's eyes scrolled over the menu, feigning deep concentration on the delicacies on offer to conceal a more real disgust, a doubt crossed Alya's mind: in four years, she had never realised such a place existed. Yet she had visited Hogsmeade with faithful assiduity. Maynard Nott, on the other hand, had gone in with a bang, even proposing it as his first choice. At that moment it was clear to her that the boy knew that cloying tearoom very well, and there could only be one reason for that. Nott must have been there before. Who knows how many other girls he had taken there before Alya?
A little surprised, Alya realised that she hadn't the slightest interest in knowing the answer. She didn't give a damn.
The initial enthusiasm she had felt in view of her appointment with Nott was slowly waning. The boy's gestures, apart from being visibly set and not at all spontaneous, were now beginning to reveal the young Slytherin's inclination to command. It was obvious that Nott liked being a leader and deciding for others, although his taste in cafés or tearooms was terribly poor.
After a few minutes, the owner of the tearoom, Madame Puddifoot, a massive woman, but with a benevolent and friendly expression, arrived at their table. The lady's kind eyes fell on Alya and especially on the dress she was wearing: she looked at her with a puzzled air, unable to hide a hint of disapproval. That dress was far too elegant for such a place. Alya returned it with a haughty, condescending look, as if to emphasise that it wasn't the dress that wasn't suitable for the place, but the place that wasn't up to the dress.
"What can I get you, my dears?" asked Madame Puddifoot in a slick voice, ignoring the young customer's critical gaze.
Alya didn't have time to open her mouth, Maynard Nott was well prepared to answer for her as well.
"Two coffees," he ordered peremptorily, keeping his eyes glued to the menu, not giving a glance either to the person who was asking for his order, or to the girl with whom he was on a date. Madame Puddifoot cast them both one last grim glance, before disappearing over the counter. She must have considered them decidedly snobbish. Alya, for her part, felt her own jaw stiffen, irritated by Nott's authoritarian behaviour.
Determined not to ruin the rest of the date, Alya tried to distract herself by turning her critical opinions on the tearoom costumers. Unfortunately, the attempt only worsened her mood: the other couples were all intent on holding hands over the table, casting languid glances at each other, or - even worse - exchanging wet, popping lovemaking effusions over the sugar bowls. Alya hoped with all her heart that Nott didn't have the same intentions. To have her first kiss in a place full of white bows and cheap silverware would have been revolting.
While mulling over possible moves to avoid dangerous lip service, Alya found herself staring distractedly but disgustedly at a small couple standing a couple of metres away from her table. Nott, who had mistaken Alya's expression for an ostentatious disdain for the couple (in fact, Alya didn't even see her, so focused was she on devising escape plans), said in a voice filled with venom:
"That's William Silverstone, Captain of the Hufflepuff team. You, on the other hand, are Eloise Smith - a filthy mudblood. I wonder how anyone has the nerve to kiss someone like that? Well, after all, Silverstone is nothing more than a good-for-nothing, a being not worth a plugged nickel. You should have seen me, how I humiliated him last time, on the field!" he exclaimed with his eyes shining with perfidy.
He shot Alya a look of understanding, assuming that the girl shared the same views on matters concerning the value of magic blood. Alya merely nodded her head slightly, so that Nott could attribute to it the meaning that suited him. At that moment, Madame Puddifoot returned, holding two cups full of hot coffee. Alya looked at her steaming beverage with relief, thankful that she finally had something in her hands that would keep her lips engaged in an innocent activity that didn't involve popping and slimy kissing.
"By the way, how's practice going? Since the first day of school, you've done nothing but recruit Reg to your overtime evening training. Before long I'll be forced to send a letter to my family to report him kidnapped!" joked Alya, with an oblique smile that betrayed a total lack of mirth.
"I want to win the Cup this year. Every moment without practice is a moment lost in vain," replied Nott in a very serious voice, his brow furrowed. He looked more like a commander about to lead his army against a fearsome battle than an ordinary school team captain.
Nott stuffed the rest of the time with long, tedious stories about his Quidditch abilities.
Alya pretended to listen to him with interest, but , actually, she immersed herself as much as she could in her hot coffee, while her thoughts were floating into other, much more captivating worlds. Alya even mentally went over the last topic Professor Binns had addressed. Quidditch had always bored her to death and she regretted having asked a question about it.
When the monologue and coffee were over, Maynard Nott decided it was time to leave the tearoom. Alya was annoyed at the boy's continued inclination to deliberately ignore her wishes on what to do. However, after casting a quick glance at the couple still idly frolicking over their no longer steaming mugs, Alya found herself not disdaining the idea of fleeing the place as soon as possible.
Leaving the tearoom, the couple plunged back into the main street, packed with students.
Alya had hoped to return to the castle immediately, but apparently Nott had quite different intentions. He turned in the opposite direction to the school, in order to lengthen the walk. Alya followed him reluctantly, but without objecting. The annoyance felt inside Madame Puddifoot's tearoom faded a little, as soon as the girl again met the admiring glances that flew towards her and her companion. The ego once again exulted and the soul's complaints subsided.
Arriving near the famous pub The Three Broomsticks, a compact handful of people, mostly Hogwarts alumni, clogged the passage. Alya and Nott fought their way through the forest of bodies and the girl saw the young Slytherin boy give another student, very thin and with brunette hair, a very dishevelled look. Alya instantly recognised the hair, as the one who sported it, and a sense of annoyance pervaded her.
James Potter, having taken the blow on the shoulder with an irritating mocking grin on his face, turned to Maynard in a falsely amiable voice:
"Nott, you should pop over to Madame Pomfrey's and have your eyes examined. If you can't avoid one person, how are you going to nab the rings with the quaffle, next game?"
"How dare you speak to me, Potter?" growled Nott, abandoning all semblance of elegance, suddenly taking on the appearance of a large, mangy dog. Alya remained motionless, in the vain hope of blending into the air. Her expression tried to feign indifference, but her grey, probing eyes had already spotted the three boys who had stopped behind Potter. Among them was invariably Sirius, and Alya, even without looking at him, could clearly sense the disdain he exuded at seeing her there. Planted at his inseparable friend's side, Sirius scrutinised Nott with a greedy glint in his pupils. It was evident that he was just waiting for the bumptious Slytherin to utter the wrong word so that he could start a fight.
"Oh, no need to get upset, it was just a suggestion. I care about my opponents being well. What would be the point of tearing you apart in front of the whole school?" raged Potter, giving Nott an unmistakable look of defiance. The Gryffindor boy had both hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans; he slipped one out to adjust his glasses, which had slanted over his nose when he bumped into Nott.
"We'll see who will be torn!" threatened Nott, angrily.
"Given your recent nearsightedness, I doubt you'll be able to see anything of the match," Potter reprimanded him, with mock regret.
In the meantime, a group of students, who gravitated nearby and picked up on the possibility of a fight, had turned towards Nott, Potter and his friends, observing them with a curious, if vaguely concerned air.
"You think you're unbeatable, don't you Potter? You'll see how we'll humiliate you! You filthy blood traitor!" ranted Nott, flicking his wand in mid-air.
Sirius leapt forward with an aggressive air and, although he had not yet grasped his wand, he looked as if he wanted to land a powerful punch in the face of the boastful scion who had dared to insult his best friend. It was only thanks to Remus Lupin, another member of the small gang, of which Alya's twin brother was a member, that Sirius did not hit Nott. Lupin held him by the arm, muttering something along the lines of "Never mind. He's just trying to provoke you."
Next to Lupin was the last of the four Gryffindor friends: Peter Pettigrew, the most cowardly and insignificant being Alya had ever seen on the face of the earth. The girl had always wondered what the hell a little boy like Pettigrew was doing with the likes of Sirius and James Potter. The friendship between Potter and Sirius Alya understood, although she found it irritating and disreputable to the honour of her noble family: both were bright, bold and rule-averse. Lupin, for his part, of a more meek and gentle temperament, played the indispensable role of placating the rebellious irreverence of his friends (who, without Lupin's presence, would in all likelihood have already been expelled from Hogwarts). But Pettigrew? What did they see in him?
"Come on Black! Don't be shy. Get your wand out and beat it. I know you can't wait to end up with your bum on the floor," said Nott, goading Sirius, who was pointing at him like a dog that had spotted its prey. Potter, meanwhile, had also pulled his wand from a pocket, ready to attack. His scornful, joking expression had vanished, giving way to a decidedly more hostile tinge. A tension laden with rancorous electricity gravitated in the air. The other students, who were witnessing the scene, were holding their breath in anticipation of the inevitable clash.
However, Alya hadn't the slightest desire to be in the middle of a skirmish, which had the vile subject of Quidditch as its motive, especially if the contenders included that stupid Sirius. How much more was he to ridicule the good name of the Blacks with his reckless behaviour? Not to mention that the last time she had found herself in a fight with her brother, Alya had received nothing but unjust punishment. No, that useless spectacle had to end instantly. Her first date had already been disappointing enough without having to add a sports brawl.
Thus, for the first time during the exchange of banter and insults between Nott and Potter, Alya spoke:
"Put your wand away, Nott, and let's leave. We have better things to do than waste our time with certain people," she ordered in a tone of condescension, as if before her were not students in her own year, but a bunch of wayward brats. Nott gasped in astonishment, as if he had only just remembered that he had been on a date. Beside Sirius, Lupin looked relieved to see that he wasn't the only one who wanted to avoid a fight. Sirius' eyes, however, narrowed into two harsh, menacing slits when he heard his sister speak.
"It is quite worthy of you, my dear sister, to date a scum like Maynard Nott. The perfect boyfriend for someone as rotten as you. Our mother will surely be proud." hissed Sirius acidly. Nott went back to lashing the air with his wand. But Alya peremptorily blocked his arm.
"You should concentrate on your own boyfriend!" remonstrated Alya, in a purposely loud voice, nodding conspicuously towards James Potter. The students around burst out laughing, momentarily distracting Potter, who glared at them cruelly, resentful of being ridiculed in front of his classmates. Sirius blithely ignored the handful of giggling boys, pointing his wand at his hated sister instead.
"You slimy snake -" Sirius blurted out, but Alya didn't give him time to finish his sentence as she had already turned on her heel with a blatant pirouette and an expression of superiority.
"Nott, let's leave," she ordered in a definitive tone. But Nott seemed disinclined to follow her and far more inclined to engage in battle. He raised his thin weapon of fine wood in turn, ready to hurl bills at Sirius. Potter quickly took up a position, anticipating his opponent's every move. The crowd held its breath once more, trepidatious, and Alya saw that coward Pettigrew stealthily back away to mingle with the rest of the crowd. His rodent eyes vibrated with greed, now that he was safe. The only one who did not move was Lupin, visibly worried.
"It's not worth it! Leave it alone! Sirius! James! Please, you'll get into trouble again, and for what?" he implored them, in a vain attempt to reason with the two friends.
"To give this filthy reveler of a Slytherin a run for his money!" ranted Sirius, grinning wickedly.
"Listen to your friend, Sirius! You are ridiculous!" shouted Alya at him.
"Shut up, you snake! I don't take orders from a scum like you!"
"Don't you dare address her like that! You are a scum. A filthy blood traitor!" interjected Nott, happy to have the noble excuse of defending his lady's honour to attack. Alya found the boy even more irritating. What did he have to do with her family disputes?
"WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?" an adult voice rose angrily from beyond the crowd. Professor Ghalil, teacher of Divination, emerged from the sea of heads in all his austerity. He had just emerged from The Three Broomsticks and the belligerent hubbub must have caught his attention. His sunken eyes looked with unflinching harshness at the two Gryffindor boys and the two Slytherin boys. The four of them instantly fell silent, suddenly lowering their wands.
"I repeat. What is going on here? Are you putting on a show?" Professor Ghalil said again, in a calmer but still authoritative voice, squaring off the four boys. No one answered.
"Do I have to warn the directors of your Houses to loosen your tongues?" the professor thundered sternly.
"No, professor. It's all right." lied Sirius swaggeringly, but without turning his glare away from Nott.
"Yes, we were just leaving," confirmed Maynard Nott in a quiet voice. The arrival of a lecturer had caused him to regain an immediate demeanour. The boy approached Alya and took her under his arm.
"Good," Professor Ghalil said, staring at them with eyes reduced to slits. A grave silence fell immediately over the group of students gathered around them.
"And now, clear out! Go back to the castle, it's late. Everyone." the teacher definitively ordered the entire audience. Within seconds, the crowd thinned out, dispersing quickly. The small group of Potter, Sirius, Lupin and Pettigrew walked in the opposite direction to Alya and Nott.
"What do you say we head back to school?" proposed Nott, feigning boredom.
"That's a very good idea." replied Alya, with a flat voice and rigidity in her face.
***
All the way back to the castle, Maynard Nott and Alya didn't say a word. The girl was too furious about what had just happened. Her first date with Nott had turned out to be a total failure. The boy, although charming and popular, had been conceited, full of himself and a little too aggressive in character for Alya's taste. Moreover, he had had the unfortunate idea of threatening and insulting Sirius right in front of her; as obnoxious and contemptuous as the twin was, he was still her brother. How had Nott could meddle in her family affairs? It didn't concern him in the slightest. No one but Alya could treat any member of her family like that.
No one.
However, although her soul seethed with anger, Alya didn't voice any of those thoughts. Obviously, Maynard Nott had no idea what turmoil was swirling in Alya's dark mind, nor how much the girl was despising him at that moment. The young Slytherin was persuaded by the idea that he had behaved like a true gentleman in front of Alya. He advanced proudly, like a victorious warrior, fresh from a bloody battle. Alya walked briskly, eager to return to their dormitory.
When they arrived at the castle, Alya felt immense relief. That unsuccessful date was finally coming to an end.
As Alya and Nott slipped over the doorstep of the Slytherin common room, the torpor of the crackling fire inside the marble fireplace gave them a warm welcome.
The room appeared crowded and many curious glances greeted the arrival of the two scions. Alya's ego quivered shyly, manifesting her eagerness to show off and feed on all those glances. Alya looked for Regulus, hoping to catch a glimpse of him in some corner of the hall. Unfortunately, there was no sign of him: too bad, the girl told herself, it would have been a good diversion to escape from Nott's clutches.
"Thanks for the coffee," Alya finally took her leave in a cordial but detached tone.
But, she hadn't yet turned her back on Maynard Nott to head for her dormitory, when he impetuously grabbed her arm, drawing her overwhelmingly to him. Alya barely managed a puzzled frown before she found the boy's moist lips pressed against her own. Without the slightest modesty, Maynard Nott kissed her in the middle of the common room, under the stunned gaze of everyone present. A small group of seventh-year boys and Nott's roommates cheered the gesture with whistles and ridiculous howls. The girls, for their part, sighed with flushed cheeks, dreaming that they were in the place of the envied young Black.
The kiss was brief, though passionate (and disgustingly wet), and when Alya was freed from Nott's strong grip, she was so dismayed that she did not have the readiness to say anything. She just stood there, impaled and helpless, silently suffering envious glances and murmurs of comment.
"Thank you," Nott finally said, in a suddenly deep and gallant voice. He winked a smirk at her and went to join the group of his friends, who greeted him festively, congratulating him with resounding pats on the back.
After a few moments, Beth arrived, all aflutter, Melyssa giving her an astonished smile and Philippa, a few steps behind, visibly frowning
"Aaalya!" squeaked Beth excitedly. "Nott kissed you! He kissed you! By Merlin, how was it?" she asked, grabbing her arms impatiently.
"Could we not talk about it here?" replied Alya brusquely, casting an eloquent glance at the other students who feigned disinterest, but had their ears perked up, ready to catch any word.
The four girls eclipsed swiftly into the depths of tge dormitory. All were nervous to learn about Nott's skills as a kisser. They circled Alya, as she busied herself with slipping off her elegant dress, showering her with prying questions.
Alya was careful not to reveal the real sensations she had felt during the kiss. She gave in inevitably to the will of her ego and the obvious reality of the facts: Nott enjoyed the appreciation of everyone within Slytherin House. It would have been counterproductive to reveal contempt for him.
So, gathering her usual nonchalance, Alya told her friend about her date, boasting of the gallantry the handsome Nott had shown her all along. Melyssa and Beth dissolved into giggles and squeals, congratulating Alya on having snared such a charming party. Young Black realised that this must be the right reaction for a girl to have after receiving her first kiss. Especially, if the knight was a boy of Nott's calibre. Exaltation, a sense of ecstasy.
But Alya felt none of that. With regret, she realised that inside she had felt absolutely nothing. Maynard Nott's kiss had left her absolutely indifferent, apart from her initial astonishment. No taste of joy, only the unpleasant sensation of bitterness in her mouth.