Chapter Text
The rest of her week had been tedious, but nothing too difficult to manage, since Natalia always came up with a good excuse to hide in her room when people grew too tiring — which was often. She considered it an art: feigning headaches, inventing essays, or claiming she had Arithmancy charts to check - not that she took that class. Luckily, her brother was a natural antisocial when it came to people who weren't his friends and was just as eager to disappear. Often the two of them would lie about having important schoolwork, then vanish upstairs. Her poor mother was so distressed over the French visitors that she barely questioned anything, which suited Natalia just fine.
Mr. Delgrange wasn’t too bad; he seemed very quiet, much like his own daughter. Too bad it seemed difficult for him to pass even a fraction of his quietness to his wife, whose voice would haunt the Yaxleys for the rest of their days. If Mrs. Delgrange hadn’t been so tiring, her babushka would have adored her, for the Frenchwoman seemed to despise the British almost as much as he did. Natalia did her best to ignore the guests, but she was subjected to a steady stream of comments from both Mrs. and Miss Delgrange about her person: “Why does she spend so much time in the garden? That surely cannot be very acceptable for a lady, nor healthy, with these dreadful English winters…” or “Why are you eating so much, chérie? Surely you want a husband?” All followed by those innocent, feline smiles both Frenchwomen had perfected. Natalia was fortunate that on most occasions, she could count on her aunt, Ekaterina, to defend her in subtle, charming ways — careful never to be too sharp, since Irina Yaxley would not have approved of her sister being openly disrespectful.
Her cousins were another reason for her annoyance. As always, they were an absolute pain in the neck. Even Simon admitted they made her look mature. With snowstorms making the grounds unfit for Quidditch or outdoor games, the cousins had no choice but to remain cooped up indoors. Natalia was grateful at least for Lev, the youngest, who lacked his brothers’ arrogance and preferred to follow her to the stables, chatting amiably as they brushed the horses, leaving the other two behind for Simon to endure.
Worst of all, the people she usually sought comfort from were too busy. Her father divided his time between entertaining the French and avoiding Ivan Yusupov’s sharp remarks, while spending his remaining hours in his study. Sebastian never escaped the clutches of his horrid fiancée, and when he did, her family hovered near. Aunt Ekaterina spoke to Natalia occasionally, but her children were wild, and she was constantly embroiled in quarrels with her sister.
So Natalia often found herself lying on her brother’s bed, one arm and leg dangling off the side. Simon busied himself with the potions he kept on his desk, sorting which would be useful to bring back to Hogwarts. They had excused themselves from tea by claiming they were revising History of Magic — a blatant lie.
"I can’t believe you left me by myself yesterday," she complained, frowning though she knew his back was to her and he couldn’t see the faces she was pulling. "I had to play chess with tata for hours while you were off having fun."
"I already told you, it was for members only."
"And you couldn’t take me as your plus-one?"
"There was no such thing as a plus-one. And if there was, I still wouldn’t have taken you."
They were, of course, talking about the party at Rabastan Lestrange’s manor — Hippolytus’s cousin, and a loyal member of the Cause. An informal gathering where the younger sympathizers could drink and chatter between grim plans for ridding the world of Muggles and “ill-mannered creatures.” Refreshing, Simon claimed, after so many endless, solemn meetings. A few girls were present, mostly engaged or married already, like Bellatrix Lestrange. Simon had been forced by his mother, much to his displeasure, to bring along their cousin Viktor, who was of age but utterly insufferable: drinking too much, flirting with compromised English witches despite being betrothed himself. Going to a primarily all-boys school had done him no good at social events that included women. At one point, Simon regretted not bringing Natalia — he knew she would have hexed Viktor into silence within minutes, and no one would have dared retaliate against her. Not being a girl himself, Simon had to swallow his irritation to avoid a scene.
Still, perhaps Natalia hadn’t missed much. Instead, she had endured her remaining cousins, playing games and rolling her eyes at their endless arguments.
With Jane away in Scotland visiting relatives, and Sebastian and Eponine gone to see his old friends, Natalia had no one else to turn to. She wasn’t foolish enough to ask to join them — Irina would never allow it, and even if she had, Natalia would have chosen boredom over an extra minute with Eponine.
Thus she was left spending New Year’s Eve with Lev and Dmitri. They dined with the adults, played chess with her grandfather, then retreated to the drawing room. Dmitri sulked over missing the Lestrange gathering; Natalia sulked at being left behind altogether. She occupied herself brushing Celestine’s’ fur while her cousins bickered over Exploding Snap cards.
"They’re mine! I bought them last holiday, idiot!"
"Stop lying, Lev. I bought them at the start of term, after your stupid owl broke my old ones!"
"You left those at home, don’t you remember? That’s why I brought mine here!"
Natalia ignored them until the shouting became unbearable. Russian might be a beautiful language, but not when shrieked at full volume.
"Would you two drop it?" she snapped, setting Celestine down and striding toward them. "I’ll start, and that’s final. Hand them over."
"Fine," Dmitri muttered, surrendering the deck. "But first I want to prove to my little brother that they’re mine."
"And how are you planning to do that, dorcus?"
"With a tracing charm, obviously."
Natalia frowned; she wasn’t familiar with the Russian incantation. She preferred to stick to English.
"What’s that?"
Dmitri smirked, ready to mock her, but Lev explained kindly: "It shows the original buyer."
"Oh, so like a relocating spell," she said brightly.
In the end, the cards belonged to neither of them. They were Viktor’s, taken by mistake when Lev had packed.
The rest of the night passed uneventfully. They played, Natalia lost repeatedly (she was sure they cheated), and bribed Strinky into bringing ice cream — no adult around to forbid it, as the elders had gone to the opera. Soon enough, 1977 arrived.
She went to sleep shortly after, her cousins still bickering over skittles. Before she closed her eyes, she glanced once more at the dove-grey gloves on her nightstand. She still didn’t know who had sent them, but she intended to find out.
At King’s Cross, Natalia tapped her foot impatiently, rising on tiptoe every now and then, using her brother’s shoulder as a prop to his annoyance. She was looking for Jane, but with the platform crowded, it was difficult. Perhaps her friend was already in their compartment — though that would be odd, since they always met outside.
Her father was giving Simon quiet instructions about recruiting more allies to the Cause. Natalia didn’t care. If it had been up to her, she would have already slipped away to find Jane and spill all her news, but Irina Yaxley had ordered her to wait until her father gave proper farewells.
"Looking for someone, little sister?"
She looked up and met Sebastian’s eyes, so like her own. They hadn’t spoken much during the holidays — Eponine never left his side — which Natalia regretted, for she adored her brother. She was relieved his fiancée had departed that morning with her parents.
"Just Jane," she sighed, scanning the crowd again.
"Really?"
Something in his tone made her bristle. He had said it casually, but there was a wry undertone that unsettled her.
"Who else would I be looking for?"
She didn’t get an answer. Sebastian studied her for a long moment before turning to speak with their mother. Natalia, however, couldn’t shake the suspicion. Either she was oversensitive — guilty conscience from what had happened over the holidays — or Sebastian knew something he shouldn’t. But that was ridiculous. She hadn’t told anyone, and surely Sirius hadn’t either.
Farewells were made: she kissed her mother’s cheeks, endured her father’s crushing hug, and promised to be the best version of herself at school. Hugging Sebastian felt oddly awkward after his sly remark, but he didn’t hesitate; he embraced her as warmly as ever.
Then she and Simon boarded. He levitated both their trunks, grumbling.
"Why won’t you levitate your own things?"
"Because Papa told you to," she said airily, Matilda nestled in her arms.
She opened the compartment door, expecting Jane. Instead, Hippolytus Lestrange was red-faced, trying to jam an oversized trunk into the overhead rack.
"Have you seen Jane?" Natalia asked at once.
"No," he muttered, not looking at her.
"Did she leave anything in here?"
"I don’t know, Natalia — shut it!" he snapped, gripping his wand so tightly she thought it might snap.
Natalia rolled her eyes at the rudeness. Boys. With a flick of her wand she murmured, “Reducio,” and the trunk obligingly shrank. She slipped away before Hippolytus even realised what had happened, leaving him to curse himself for not thinking of it first.
The train lurched forward. Natalia pressed Simon to let Celestine out of her carrier, then stalked down the corridor. Jane was nowhere in any of the Slytherin compartments. Constance, Rue, and Dolores hadn’t seen her either. That left only one possibility.
Arms crossed, she marched toward the Gryffindor end of the train, dodging a stray Bat-Bogey Hex from a Ravenclaw second-year. The corridor thinned of students; older years preferred to stay tucked inside their compartments. She dreaded knocking on doors, but then:
"Yaxley? What are you doing here?"
Sirius Black, leaning in the doorway of compartment L2, arms folded, eyes sharp.
Natalia’s first instinct was to blush, but she forced her gaze elsewhere, feigning indifference. "Looking for Jane. Have you seen her?"
"Why would she be here? Snakes sit at the other end, you know that."
"I know," she snapped, irritation sparking now that her nerves were fading. "But she isn’t there, so I thought she might be with Potter."
Sirius gave a short "oh," and she noticed the relief in his expression. For a moment, she wondered if he’d thought she was looking for him. Foolish.
"Do you think this is about that whole fake-dating scheme?" he asked suddenly.
Natalia sighed. "Yes. Also known as the worst plan those two could have possibly come up with."
"I’ll agree with you there."
For a moment, their eyes met. She hated the tiny flicker of warmth she felt at realising he was on her side. It was dangerous to think about what had happened over the holidays; her cheeks would betray her in an instant. She forced herself to focus.
"So. Can you take me to Jane, then?"
He hesitated — of course he did; Sirius Black never made anything simple. Finally he nodded and gestured for her to follow.
At the very end of the train, he told her to wait outside while he went in first. Natalia rolled her eyes. What possible harm could there be in her simply walking in to fetch her friend? But she stayed put. A few seconds later, Sirius popped his head back out.
"Come in. Quick."
Frowning, she stepped forward — only for Sirius to seize her wrist and yank her inside.
She opened her mouth to scold him — but stopped short. This wasn’t a compartment. It was one of the train’s bathrooms. Sirius flicked his wand at the door, layering it with Colloportus and Muffliato.
"What on earth—"
But she never finished, because Sirius Black’s mouth was suddenly on hers. One arm circled her waist, the other cupped her cheek. The kiss was anything but gentle.
For a heartbeat, she froze. Then instinct took over. Her hands pressed to his chest, his leg slid between hers, and she felt herself shoved lightly back against the door.
They broke apart only when breathing became necessary, faces still close enough that their breath mingled.
"Why are you—"
"I’m a man of my word," Sirius said simply, and kissed her again.
Time blurred. Hands tangled in hair, tugged at clothing, explored the line between daring and restraint. She gasped when he bit at her neck, and he grinned against her skin. A knock at the door finally broke them apart, both breathing hard, fixing their clothes in silence. Natalia swept all her hair forward to hide the red mark blooming on her throat.
She dared a glance at him as he straightened his sweater. No regret. No embarrassment. He looked utterly unbothered, which, strangely, didn’t displease her.
"Look," he said at last, running a hand through his curls. "As surprising as it sounds, I’ve been giving this some thought. And I’ve come to a decision."
"Which is…?"
"Well, I’m not in love with you. Let’s get that clear."
"I’m not in love with you either, dorcus," she shot back at once.
"Good. Because what I do know is that we both enjoy this." His smirk was maddening. "So why not keep doing it? No one has to know. Nothing else changes. Just—something pleasant between us."
She stared at him, searching his face for mockery. Instead she found only boldness.
"Alright," she said at last, so softly he almost missed it.
His grin widened. "Then it’s settled. And nobody means nobody. Not even Jane Abbott."
She bristled, ready to protest, until he added quickly: "And not James either. To keep it fair."
That mollified her. She nodded.
"When will we—"
He chuckled before she could finish. "Haven’t even left the room and you already want more?"
"Oh, shut up," she snapped, cheeks pink, arms crossed.
He snickered but decided against starting an argument so early in the day. The last thing he needed was another Yaxley tantrum before breakfast.
“We’ll talk tomorrow at Transfiguration,” he said instead. “The boys and I have some planning to do—haven’t seen each other in weeks.”
She nodded, still refusing to meet his eyes.
“Can you check if there’s anyone there so I can leave?”
Doing as he was told, Sirius peered into the corridor. It was quiet; most students were already locked in their compartments, dozing off beneath the sugar haze of Honeydukes wrappers and Pumpkin Pasties.
He gestured for her to go. With a curt nod, she slipped out, the faint scent of her perfume—something floral and faintly smoky, unmistakably expensive—lingering in the tiled air.
He watched her from the doorway until she disappeared down the corridor. Only then did he leave himself, a small, reluctant smile tugging at his mouth.
Two compartments away lay the one he shared with the boys. He paused before entering, dragging a hand through his hair. This little plan of theirs could go brilliantly—or blow up spectacularly. Good thing he was a Gryffindor; he’d always had a weakness for bad ideas that promised a thrill.
Having rehearsed the story she’d tell her brother and Hippolytus once she returned, Natalia straightened her robes and slipped into her compartment. A sigh of relief escaped her lips when she saw that neither of them were there. The only occupant was Jane Abbott, half-asleep, a cream-furred bunny curled in her lap. At the sight of Natalia, Jane jumped up so fast the creature leapt clear off her knees.
“Nat!” she cried, throwing her arms around her. “Where in Merlin’s name were you? I was looking everywhere!”
“Where was I? Where were you, miss?” Natalia shot back with a teasing arch of her brow. She knew the question would send Jane straight into talk of Potter, neatly diverting attention from herself.
“Oh, Natalia!” Jane sighed, eyes dreamy as she led her friend to the seats. “You won’t believe what happened over Christmas!”
And as Jane began spilling every detail—how she and James Potter had already started their little act, how he’d kissed her on the cheek at the express when half the Gryffindors were watching, and how Lily Evans had gone pink and looked away at once. Natalia listened, polite and smiling, the perfect confidante.
Jane went on about how James had winked at her afterwards as though he’d just won a Quidditch match, and how she couldn’t decide whether he was enjoying himself far too much or simply being convincing for Lily’s sake.
Yet somewhere in the back of her mind, a small, dangerous smile kept threatening to surface. It was rather ironic, really. Jane’s little scheme might soon be the gossip of the castle, but Natalia’s own secret—sealed between herself and Sirius Black—was far more delicious.
She was, after all, a Yaxley. And if there was one thing she adored, it was knowing something no one else did.