Chapter Text
I don't own Harry Potter.
I'm rewriting the whole story, so please let me know if you like it. Comments help making me update faster.
It was September 1976, and Natalia Yaxley blew a strand of golden hair off her face as she skeptically watched James Potter swerve into a dive that didn't look quite right. Then again, nothing about Quidditch seemed right to her. Or about life, even, especially now, only eight days into her sixth year, and she had already gotten a P on her Transfigurations exam.
She turned her attention to the piece of parchment on her lap with a deep sigh. That essay was due the next day. Her handwriting grew progressively larger as she wrote, a clear sign of her dwindling interest, a problem that plagued most of her academic efforts.
Natalia had always been prone to distraction, but this year it seemed worse. Her mother's relentless nagging about schoolwork had become a source of disdain rather than motivation. The more Natalia was pressured to be a good student, the less she cared. Why should she bother? She wasn't planning on pursuing a career after finishing her seventh year. Plenty of people managed to get by with only their O.W.L.s, so why should she be forced to continue studying subjects she didn't enjoy? Natalia wasn't an ignorant witch, she just believed there were more valuable things to learn in life than nonverbal spells. After all, if she needed to cast a spell, she had a perfectly functional mouth to speak it.
Her train of thought was interrupted by the sound of a broom flying perilously close to her perch. If there was one thing she disliked as much as Transfigurations, it was Quidditch. To make matters worse, she was sitting there during Gryffindor's training time. And if there was anything she hated more than Quidditch, it was Gryffindors.
What was so fun about chasing after a ball, only for the whole game to hinge on someone catching the Snitch? It felt like a monumental waste of time. The only reason Natalia endured the occasional World Cup was the cute players and her father's insistence, as he always managed to secure important seats.
Her choice of location was purely strategic. She knew no one who knew her would think to look for her there. More importantly, the one person she most wanted to avoid wouldn't find her either. The day was far too pleasant to be ruined by her brother's unwelcome presence: early release from class, sunshine, a rarity in Scotland, and warm weather.
"Natalia," a breathless voice interrupted her thoughts, making her shoulders twitch.
Jane Abbott was standing with both hands over her hips and her chest pointing slightly upwards, with an exaggerated expression on her face, as she tried to recover from the running she just did and that had tainted her milky cheeks with pink.
She was the tallest witch in their year and as skinny as a wand, her delicate, angular frame a clear inheritance from her mother's side of the family. Her tiny coffee-brown eyes, which she often dismissed as "boring," were full of life despite her self-criticism. A chestnut blonde bob framed her small, sharp-featured face, striking in its simplicity. Natalia often told her she was lovely, but Jane, ever her own harshest critic, rarely believed it. The only feature she seemed to appreciate was the tiny beauty mark perched elegantly above her lip, a charming detail she regarded as her one redeeming feature.
"Is that my essay?" she asked in disbelief.
However, if she was trying to get even the slightest apologetic look from Natalia Yaxley, she did not get it. Instead, she rolled her eyes, not embarrassed she's been caught, but rather annoyed. How could Jane use that accusatory tone with her? She had left her all alone to go to the library knowing well Natalia needed help with her own paper. Besides, it wasn't as if eventually she'd have not let her copy.
"Well, you left it on top of your bed and it's due tomorrow," she was now looking for Jane's eyes, as if trying to assess if she was actually angry. Besides believing there was no need for such a tone, she didn't actually want her best friend to be feeling all sour. "Don't worry. I'm changing pretty much every word. She won't know I copied. You know how stressed I've been, Jane, don't be a pest."
Jane drew her lower lip between her teeth, sitting down and taking her eyes off Natalia's blue pair. It had taken her three whole hours to write that paper.
"You can ask next time," she said, as she scratched her legs, since the touch of the grass was making her feel itchy.
Natalia looked up to the sky, tired of the conversation already. She found that lately, people took a silly amount of pleasure in patronising her. She's glad she doesn't let the criticism get to her, otherwise her self-esteem would suffer.
"Morgana, Jane. Can you just forget about it?"
"Excuse me. You're vexed?"
Natalia simply rolled her eyes and sat up, as she had been lying on her stomach until that point. Homework can wait until she's in bed, surrounded by chocolates and her cat. There were much more important matters to be discussed.
"Did I mention I'm stressed?" she raised a perfect, thin, golden eyebrow. Her lips formed into a pout.
She knows she's mentioned it, but what does she care? Jane still hadn't asked her for more information.
"What does that word even mean?"
"I read it in Witch Weekly. It means I have too many responsibilities and they worry me too much."
Although Jane was busy trying to get a bite off an apple she's been carrying, she still raised her eyebrows. She couldn't think of a single thing Natalia was doing that she's not doing herself for at least twice the amount of time. In fact, she couldn't think of a single person in the castle that had less responsibilities than Natalia, she didn't even have to remember to write to her parents, her brother always reminded her.
"I don't think you have that many responsibilities."
"Simon wants to set me up for tutoring with Evan Rosier," Natalia mentioned, as she hand-brushed her hair without care, ignoring Jane's words.
"When did he tell you?" Jane frowns, suddenly feeling more interested.
"This morning at breakfast," Natalia sighed. "Rosier is a pig."
"He is... and he still has this nasty crush on you."
"Yes, but Simon says I'm failing Transfigurations and it has to be fixed. How can I be failing Transfigurations? The year just started," she growled, frustrated. "Rosier is good at Transfigurations, his mother told mine and she loves that."
Jane took a bite off her fruit, getting some juice running through her chin, which she quickly wiped with the back of her hand.
"Is she still bugging you about it? I thought she had calmed down."
"I thought so too, but she wrote to Simon and told him she wants me to improve my grades astronomically this year or say goodbye to Hogwarts by the next."
"But she always says that."
"But this time she means it. I don't know why she's being like this. She's never been so pressing about grades as badly as this year. I passed my OWLS, what else does she want?"
"Well... Your father did know that wizard who took the tests and—
One look from Natalia and Jane knows she should stop speaking.
"I'm just saying, Jane, the only reason I'm in that class is because my mother is making me take it because this summer she decided to go crazy over my grades. The whole thing is stupid. I've been getting the same type of grades since I was in first year. Why does she suddenly care so much?"
Jane doesn't answer. She truly does find the whole thing interesting, because although Natalia can exaggerate some things, she knows for a fact that she's telling the truth on this occasion. Irina Yaxley had always been a tough mother, in fact, Jane couldn't remember a single time in which she voluntarily held a single conversation with the woman, despite having spent now over 5 summers at her house, and it was also a fact, that out of all her children, she had always been the toughest on Natalia.
Now, Natalia was not the perfect student, but she was charming with professors and she always managed. She was actually quite good at Potions, even. Irina was aware her daughter was not an intellectual prodigy and while there had always been some shame in that area, Jane had never seen her so insistent on the topic.
"She's Russian," Natalia added after a beat, as if that explained everything. "Yusupova before she married. Winter palaces and schedules that arrive like edicts. She likes results more than reasons."
"At least you keep me company." Jane smiled, genuinely, trying to bring some sense of calmness to her friend. She gave a final bite to her apple, vanishing the core with a simple flick of her wand. "Doesn't that make you feel better?"
Natalia let some air out and lay down on the grass again, this time with her face facing the sky, her eyes matching its colour. Jane thought her expression made her look almost like a little girl again.
"Not really," she said. She had both hands on her stomach and her voice grew softer. "I suppose she just wants me to be the best version of myself, and I am. I just don't understand why Simon has to be my babysitter. He's barely older."
Jane says nothing but agrees. Ever since their first year, Simon Yaxley had always been there, watching over his sister. Initially, it was at his mother's request when they were both little first years, but it eventually became an annoying habit he couldn't shake off. However, this past summer, Irina Yaxley's determination to make her daughter a top student intensified, along with her insistence that Simon keep track of Natalia's every move. Simon was to look after Natalia because she would likely get herself into trouble without his supervision, causing their parents a great deal of headaches. He was instructed to tell her what to do, where to go, and where not to go, and to oversee all her actions. The insistence became so overwhelming that even Simon found the task more tiresome than enjoyable.
Natalia twisted the slim pendant at her throat, a little gold wing no one ever commented on. "She says it will be worse if I am careless. As if I wake each morning hoping to disgrace her."
She knows that whatever she can say would be insufficient, because she can not relate to Natalia's problem. So instead, Jane fixes her gaze towards the sky, smiling as she catches sight of a red shirt and brown hair.
"Isn't James Potter looking incredibly handsome today?"
Natalia's face twisted in a playful manner: "You're disgusting."
"Please, even you must admit it. He's a sweetheart," Jane said, still staring at the pitch. "And did you see that turn he pulled just now? It was rough, but I think he's practicing a Sloth Grip Roll. Pete always said it's one of the hardest moves for a Chaser, let alone a Seeker."
"And he chases after a mudblood half of the time. How attractive of him. Makes you want to marry him in a second. Not to mention the glasses... It melts my heart," Natalia said, one of her hands resting dramatically over her chest.
Contrary to the effect she was planning to provoke, Jane wasn't laughing or defending him with her usual dreamy sighs. Instead, her brows furrowed. "Don't mention that. Lily this, Lily that. She's basically a Muggle, can't he see that? It's such a waste when he could be focusing on Quidditch — he's the best flyer in our year, Nat."
Natalia let out a deep breath, as she saw that Jane had drained all the fun from the topic. She could see that Jane tried to understand Potter and his fascination with the muggle and she found this to be an utter waste of time. To her, there was nothing to understand, some people had disgusting, pathetic and simply inexplicable fixations, like falling in love with a werewolf, or a vampire, or a muggle. Those sort of people should be avoided, and that was that. James Potter was one of those people.
"You're giving me a headache. I thought you were over this. James Potter is almost a blood traitor. You should start looking for someone worth your time. I heard Tristan Nott is single again. Try my own brother if you feel like it, just let the whole Potter thing go."
Jane let out a small groan, filled with frustration as she shook her head, looking expectantly at Natalia, who almost felt sorry for her but didn't, because she did not understand this. What was there to lament so much about? It was James Potter they were talking about, a delusional boy with ideas of greatness who one was rather better off avoiding than being friends with.
However, to Jane Abbott this is not so simple. Natalia knew the James Potter from Hogwarts, the Gryffindor captain, the wizard with the strange fixation on that muggle born. Jane admitted, that looking at him from that point of view, could not make him out to be the most charming wizard to ever walk the castle. However, she knew the real James Potter, the wizard from the North West of England who she saw at least 3 times every major holiday, who defended her from her harsh cousins when they were younger, who always sent a smile her way even when it seemed like she was invisible to everyone else in the castle.
Why did she have to accept he was just a blood traitor and go? He wasn't. Not yet, at least. Yes, he liked Lily Evans, but she had liked an animated cat from a children's book story when she was 6. People change, people mature, they refine their tastes. Did she think she was the definition of a more refined taste? Absolutely not. She considered herself to be a very poor excuse of a girl, but compared to Evans, in terms of magic, even she, Jane Abbot, was more deserving of James Potter's approval and praise.
Natalia seemed to disagree. Well, of course she thought Jane was many times better than Lily Evans. But she saw in Jane's future the same thing she saw on her own. Handsome husbands, handsome children and one or two handsome estates around England, perhaps even a smaller one in France. Crazy ideas and relations like those of James Potter were not a part of that future.
"I would never date your brother," Jane added, as she stared at James Potter, flying in the distance and laughing as sweat shone on his face. "He'd drive me mental within a week."
That made Natalia let out an unattractive snort. Ah, what was it about making fun of brothers that made everything so fun? Especially when the truth was involved. Simon was the most unsympathetic jerk she knew, and the lack of serious relationships in the past years did nothing but confirm that. Whichever woman ended up marrying her brother, she pitied.
Both friends closed their eyes and enjoyed the sun on their skin. Natalia dreaded the moment in which her tan, courtesy of spending countless hours by the pool, would disappear after a few weeks, leaving her skin to return to that pinkish colour, as it did every winter.
Just as Natalia was falling asleep, a bludger shot right above her head and they decided it's time to go back to the castle.
Sirius Black frowned at the bubbling cauldron before him while James cheerfully chopped a handful of herbs, none of them knew their name, but they were fairly certain they'd seen them in last year's textbook. With an easy grin, James tossed the herbs into the cauldron. It hissed ominously. Both boys exchanged uneasy looks; that probably wasn't a good sign.
They had never been bad at school, quite the opposite, in fact. But this year, every class seemed determined to prove that their usual method of coasting through lessons with sharp minds and minimal effort might not be enough. For the first time, they wondered if sheer intellect and a bit of after-hours cramming wouldn't be enough to save them.
He guessed that some sacrifices would need to be made. They had gotten away with Quidditch, partying, dealing with Moony's furry problem and just being cool individuals while maintaining excellent grades for years, but it looks like people had not been kidding when everyone told them that things would get more difficult after sixth year.
"We will probably fail. You know that, don't you?" Sirius claimed in a defeated tone, his eyes bored.
James clicked his tongue and smirked. "Now, don't be so negative, Padfoot. We can't fail. We need this to become Aurors. Besides, we always manage."
"That is if we don't die out of boredom. Or get poisoned by this," he suddenly started coughing, with an expression filled with disgust on his face. "What's even in there, Prongs?"
James shrugs. "No idea. Maybe we should ask Lily, I bet she knows."
"You're truly hilarious," Sirius laughed but James didn't reply. In fact, he acted as if he didn't even hear him. "Seriously. She hates your guts."
"No, no. She doesn't. She just... doesn't know me that well yet. As soon as she does, I'm telling you," he snapped both fingers, with a half smirk on his face, "like that."
Sirius laughed with amusement. He had never seen anyone dislike James as much as Evans did, not even Slytherins, and at least they had a reason to dislike James, as they were often victims of their little pranks now and then.
"No wonder you're smiling all the time. Here in your seat, in front of Evans, the only pretty girl around. You did not think of my needs when you made me take this class, did you?"
James thinks Sirius is being absurd, and he expresses this by shaking his head and saying: "Come on, Padfoot. There are plenty of fine birds here. Like... Sam Nicholson," he said, as his chin tipped towards the Gryffindor girl he was referring to, she is, unlike both of them, duly working on her potion.
Sirius screwed his eyes shut. Nicholson, he had dated her back in 4th year. She threw a frog in his face. The frog was alive.
"She's mental. Whatever hotness she has, is cancelled out because of that."
"Well you had it coming. Hadn't you snogged Marlene that one day you two were supposed to go on a date?"
Sirius shrugs. It wasn't as if they were dating. If anything, Marlene had more of a claim to him than Nicholson or any other witch, she was the first girl he had made out with and they had a tendency to go out on and off every year. He truly believed that if Marlene McKinnon put her mind to it, he'd have probably even started dating her as an actual girlfriend, that is. Of course, Marlene was too busy with school work and quidditch to have a boyfriend. That suited Sirius just fine.
"Yes but that's Marlene."
"Fine, Sam's out, but there's plenty of pretty girls in this class other than Lily and Marnie."
The second he said that, a sharp and abrupt laugh burst out of Sirius' chest. Some people turned his way, clearly annoyed, that's mostly Slytherins, and others were just curious, they lost interest pretty much immediately, going back to their potions. There's only one person who is basically Cruciating him with her eyes and he returned the sentiment, looking at her defiantly, daring her to say something.
"If you suggest any of the Slytherin chicks, I'm calling St. Mungo's."
"Nott's creepy, so no." James said, as he looked over his shoulder, trying to get a good look at all the Slytherin girls in the room.
"Which leaves us with the worst of the lot," Sirius said, with his eyes still fixed on the same girl.
"Jane's actually really nice. She makes the nicest presents for Yule," James smiled at the memories of holidays. His parents and Jane's parents, who had been friends for longer than he cared to remember, always got together for the holiday season. "You should see her brother play Quidditch, he's one of the best chasers out there, I swear. He played for Gryffindor when we were first years, 'member?"
Sirius made an effort to stop staring. He didn't want to give her the wrong idea and then have her thinking he considered her even a person. Instead, he tried focusing on what James just said.
"Pete Abbot, right? Cool guy. No idea why his sister would end up in Slytherin."
James raised his shoulders. He had wondered that too, and so had his father, his mother had told them off for discussing that, but James knew she secretly wondered the same thing.
However, Sirius' own brother was a Slytherin, so the fact he was asking that was quite ironic.
"She's actually really pretty too. Her hair looks nice, don't you think?" He's now observing her, as she crooks her neck and checks her notes. "Not as nice as Lily's but..."
Sirius rolled his eyes. Lately, it seemed that every time James opened his mouth, Lily Evans' name inevitably followed. He couldn't, for the life of him, understand his friend's obsession with her. What was the big fuss about Evans?
Sure, she was pretty, he'd give her that, and undoubtedly smarter than the both of them combined. But she was also an insufferable, stuck-up pain in the arse who seemed to take personal offense at their mere existence. Always telling them off, always yelling. And as if that weren't enough, her best friend was the single worst snake slithering around the castle, Snape. Sirius didn't particularly care about Evans one way or another, but he had to admit he respected her for one thing, she never gave in to James' relentless advances.
Sirius had long since given up trying to understand James' fixation on Evans. There were plenty of other attractive girls in the castle, girls who would love for James Potter to pay them even a fraction of the attention he wasted on her. Sirius encouraged it, of course, nudging James toward other options whenever he could. But it was pointless. James Potter had been a hopeless gooner for Evans since their very first year, and nothing, not logic, not reason, not even her outright disdain, seemed to shake his devotion.
Still, if Sirius was being completely honest, James' single-minded obsession had its perks. The less attention he paid to other girls, the better for Sirius, because, inevitably, they all seemed to settle for him just the same.
"And Natalia Yaxley—
"Don't," Sirius growled, with an equal amount of disgust and anger in his tone. His face was twitching. "My arse gets sore every time that last name gets mentioned."
"Yeah, we got hexed alright."
"Hexed? Simon Yaxley and his gang took their OWLS on our arses."
James laughed, but the amusement didn't quite reach his eyes. His forehead creased as he recalled the weeks of pain they had endured after that particular hexing. Some grudges, he figured, were never really meant to fade.
"We kind of did have it coming. Especially you."
"Especially me?"
"You came up with the idea."
The idea had been simple enough, at least, that's how they remembered it. A harmless little joke at Natalia Yaxley's expense.
They'd overheard her back in third year, using a particularly vile slur to describe Sam Nicholson, whose parents were both Muggle-born. Sirius had decided, right then and there, that she needed to be taught a lesson. What he hadn't accounted for was her gigantic older brother and his equally massive, equally Quidditch-playing friends.
What felt like half the Slytherin Quidditch team had been waiting for them outside the pitch after practice. James and Sirius barely had time to draw their wands before they were hexed six ways to Sunday. Remus, fortunately, had steered clear of the whole ordeal, claiming the prank was a bit much for his tastes. Peter, however, had gotten the absolute worst of it. He'd been caught alone in a corridor, an easy target. Up to this day, he refused to say what exactly the Slytherins had done to him. And frankly, neither Sirius nor James had ever pushed him to talk. Some things, they figured, were best left buried.
"She should have done her revenge herself if it affected her so much. Going to your brother for protection is a baby move."
"Yeah… but… she's a girl. They like overreacting."
"I guess," the boy shrugged, knowing that had it been anyone else but her who they were talking about, he'd have agreed. "What's worse is that I have to see her during every, single, break." He pronounced those words each with just as much emphasis as the other. "Would it kill my parents to befriend normal people?" he continued, voice dripping with exasperation. Then scoffing, he answered his own question: "Yes, of course it would. That'd require them not to be complete creeps."
His voice trailed off, muttering more to himself than to James. Why, why, out of all the families in the world, had he been cursed with his?
"Are they really that bad? Her older brother, the one who graduated, he seemed normal to me," he said casually.
James had a hard time hating the Yaxleys as much as Sirius did, not that he'd ever admit it out loud.
Once, back when he was ten, he had been browsing for books in Flourish and Blotts when he spotted a copy of Quidditch Through the Ages sitting just out of his reach. Before he could even think about climbing the shelves like some sort of deranged Niffler, a hand had plucked it down for him.
Sebastian Yaxley.
At the time, he had just graduated from Hogwarts, but he'd smiled and handed James the book without a second thought. "Good choice," he had said. "I read it myself when I was your age. Brilliant stuff."
James, still in the early stages of his Quidditch obsession, had stared up at him, wide-eyed. "You played?"
"Keeper," Sebastian had replied with a nod. "I started playing back in second year, but that book? It's got everything."
James had thanked him, clutching the book to his chest, and watched as the older boy disappeared into the crowd. It had been a small, insignificant moment, one Sebastian probably never even thought about again. But for James, it was impossible to completely hate someone whose brother had once unknowingly made his day.
Of course, he'd never tell Sirius that.
The look Sirius shot him made it painfully clear just how much he disagreed with any notion that tied the name Yaxley to the word nice.
James barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He hadn't even said anything, but apparently, his face had betrayed him. Sirius could always tell when he was thinking something he wouldn't approve of.
"What?" James asked, feigning innocence.
Sirius scoffed, narrowing his eyes. "Don't even try it, Potter. I saw that look. You were about to say something stupid."
"I was not—"
"You were. You were this close," Sirius held up his fingers an inch apart, "to defending a Yaxley. Again."
James sighed. "I wasn't defending anyone—"
Sirius scoffed again, cutting him off. "Whatever. Just keep your Yaxley-loving thoughts to yourself." He huffed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "Honestly, mate, you've got the worst taste in people."
James just shook his head, wisely choosing not to argue. There was no winning against Sirius when it came to this.
"They're the worst blood supremacists you could ever meet," Sirius went on, his voice dripping with disgust. "The mother alone is worse than my whole bloody family. Seriously, my mother adores that woman. That should tell you everything you need to know."
James nodded, completely understanding. Being liked by Walburga Black was all the proof anyone needed to know exactly what kind of person they were dealing with. He knew it better than most, after all, in all their years of friendship, he had never once been invited to Grimmauld Place.
"Right," James said, shaking off the heaviness of the conversation. A smirk tugged at his lips as he nudged Sirius with his elbow. "At least we get to beat Simon Yaxley's arse every time we play Slytherin, hey?"
Sirius snorted, his mood lifting immediately. "Damn right we do."
James grinned. "And that, my friend, is the only proper way to handle a Yaxley."
Sirius clapped him on the shoulder. "Now that is a sentiment I can get behind." Then, he added: "Simon Yaxley is a douche, but I'd still take him over his sister any day. Beating Slytherin 800 to 0 wouldn't make up for spending a single second with her."
James raised an eyebrow, adjusting his glasses as he leaned forward slightly, half-curious, half-amused. His gaze flickered over to where Natalia Yaxley sat, almost expecting to see dark clouds of pure evil rising from her small frame.
"I mean… I guess she's a bit of a brat," he admitted, "but I kind of understand where it comes from, after the whole Travers thing… but—"
Sirius let out a loud, disgusted snort, one that somehow sounded dangerously close to gagging.
"She's the worst, I'm telling you," he declared. "Fire's lit, but the cauldron's empty. She's got the brain of a troll, and the only things she ever thinks about are clothes and all that pureblood rubbish. At least with Nott or Rowle, you get a proper conversation every now and then." He scoffed. "The only reason she passed her OWLs was because of her family's connections."
James chuckled, shaking his head. "Sounds a lot like most Slytherin girls."
Sirius grinned. "Exactly."
That was, after all, a well-known fact throughout Hogwarts.
The bells were chiming, announcing the end of class. James hurried to pour their faulty potion into a vial, a concerned look on his face. They had barely gotten enough time to finish it, but a quick glance at Lily Evans's perfect potion told him that they'd clearly gone wrong somewhere, he wished he could blame all their talking about Natalia Yaxley, but he knew that they had probably done something wrong from the very beginning.
James strode up to Slughorn's desk to submit his vial, while Sirius leaned back in his seat, arms crossed, allowing his gaze to drift, almost absentmindedly, toward the girl who had, until recently, been the subject of their conversation.
It had been a long time since he had actually looked at Natalia Yaxley. Sure, he threw the occasional glare her way, and yes, sometimes he'd stare at her for longer than necessary, his eyes hot with rage, usually whenever she opened that mouth of hers to share her oh-so-wonderful opinions. But to actually study her, to take a moment to really observe her? He figured the last time he had done that was sometime before third year.
They had met as children, before Hogwarts, before houses and blood politics had drawn a thick, ugly line between them. He remembered her well. She had been small and chubby, with a funny nose, one that, even now, remained slightly funny in their sixth year. Back then, her long golden hair had been braided neatly, though a few baby curls always found a way to stick out.
She had been loud, impossible to ignore. The few days he had spent at her house, all she did was fight, with him, with their brothers, Simon and Regulus. Yet, for all the arguing, she had been just as reckless as he was. No matter how insane an idea Sirius came up with, Natalia was always eager to follow. But the second things went sideways? The second something actually went wrong? She'd cry. Call for the adults. Blame him without hesitation. Every. Single. Time. And yet, back then, he hadn't hated her.
That was before she started thinking exactly like their parents.
Now, even years later, she still looked strikingly similar to the child he had once known. No matter how far away their desks were, Sirius could always hear her voice, that distinct, nasal tone that grated on his nerves. It carried through the room like a curse, impossible to ignore. For all that she had grown older, she had hardly grown taller. He was fairly certain she was one of the shortest in their year. And while she had lost most of her baby fat, her face had remained plump, giving her an almost childish look at times. The braids were gone now. Instead, her loose, curly hair tumbled all the way down to her waist. Sirius eyed it with vague disdain. Who in their right mind needed that much hair? It was ridiculous. Utterly impractical. If anything, it just added to her general nonsense.
It wasn't until they got to Hogwarts that they realized there was no chance, no chance, of ever tolerating each other's presence again.
At first, Sirius had tried talking to her once or twice during their first year. It wasn't anything meaningful, just a familiar face among a sea of unfamiliar ones. And at first, Natalia had seemed open, even eager, to offer him her friendship. Until she realized who he was hanging around with. Remus and Peter. Two names that meant nothing in the circles she had been raised in. She had said it so casually, like it was a passing comment, like it wasn't dripping with condescension: Not people worthy of your time, Sirius.
And that had been it.
After that, neither of them had so much as looked in the other's direction. They were different people, living different lives, connected only by the unfortunate fact that their parents were friends. Occasionally, insults were exchanged, but beyond that? Nothing.
Then third year had come.
And Sirius, in a fit of vindictive brilliance, had decided she was due for a prank.
Ever since then, he had made a conscious effort to pretend she was invisible. Sure, there had been a temptation to keep messing with her after what happened, but it simply wasn't worth his time. He had Snivellus to deal with, and at least with him, he didn't have to constantly look over his shoulder to make sure Simon Yaxley and half the Slytherin Quidditch team weren't waiting to hex him.
No, the best punishment for Natalia Yaxley was simply letting her be herself. She'd live a dull, empty life, just like their mothers. She'd marry some equally dull and awful pureblood, have dull and awful children, and spend the rest of her days making his life even worse than it already was.
To be completely objective, she probably wasn't the worst Slytherin in the castle. But she was definitely the most spoiled and the most annoying. She always got exactly what she wanted, always found a way to weasel out of the consequences of her own stupid actions. And Sirius hated that. Sure, he got out of situations too. But his way was different. He wasn't a blood-purist brat with a family name doing all the work for him, he actually relied on his own charm.
"Oi, Sirius! Come on, don't want to miss lunch!" James' voice snapped him out of his thoughts.
Sirius shook his head, grabbed his things, and rushed out of the Potions classroom without a second glance.
Regulus Black strode into the Great Hall, still dressed in his Quidditch robes, his expression dark with frustration. The morning had been nothing short of infuriating, they had lost their scheduled practice time, all thanks to those bloody Gryffindors and the special treatment they got from Dumbledore.
With a sharp exhale, he dropped onto the bench beside Parkinson, their Chaser, who was still grumbling about it under his breath.
Regulus ate in silence, his movements tense, his gaze fixed on his plate. The unfairness of it all burned in his chest, but he kept his emotions carefully in check, no point in fuming when it wouldn't change a thing.
The rest of the team, however, had already moved on. After spending the entire day complaining, they seemed to have finally exhausted their outrage, shifting to more casual conversation as they ate. Regulus, though, couldn't let it go so easily. Typical. Just another reminder that Gryffindors, especially his brother and his insufferable friends, always got their way.
Regulus wouldn't have been so bothered if this hadn't been his first official practice as a member of the Slytherin team. He had been trying to get in since second year, but it wasn't until fifth that he finally earned his spot, only thanks to Zacharias Doelley, a fourth-year who had let his grades slip too low to remain on the team.
Two weeks into the school year, today was meant to be his first real practice, but of course, dear old Dumbledore had intervened. The great Gryffindor-loving headmaster had handed over their practice time to the lions without so much as informing them in advance. And the worst part? It wasn't just a one-time inconvenience. As a reward for winning the Quidditch Cup last year, Gryffindor would now have both Wednesdays and Thursdays for practice, while Slytherin was bumped to Mondays. The decision had only just been made, and the way Regulus saw it, it was nothing short of blatant favoritism.
His jaw clenched as he stabbed at his food, still stewing in his irritation, when—
A high-pitched laugh erupted from further down the table, sharp enough to make his temples ache. Regulus forced himself not to flinch, but Merlin's beard, it was obnoxious. He already had enough reasons to be in a foul mood, he did not need a headache on top of it.
One glance was all it took to confirm his suspicion: Natalia Yaxley. Of course. Sitting beside her ever-present shadow, Abbott.
He didn't know her well, not personally, at least. She was a year ahead of him, and they had always successfully ignored each other. But their parents were close, which meant Regulus had seen enough of her growing up to form an opinion. And that opinion was… unfavorable, to say the least.
She was loud. Dumb. Spoiled. All things he despised.
Not that it was entirely her fault, he supposed a good chunk of the blame fell on Mr. Yaxley, who had encouraged her behavior from an early age and seen nothing wrong with it. According to their housemates, she was as empty-headed as a cauldron, but it hardly mattered, she was pretty and rich, which meant she'd have no trouble finding a suitable husband when the time came.
Regulus pitied the poor bastard unlucky enough to marry her. Actually, he pitied her even more. Having to exist with such a limited and narrow mind? That was its own kind of prison.
Funny enough, that was probably the only thing he and his brother had in common, though neither of them knew it. Both Black brothers despised Natalia Yaxley and her noisy mouth with a passion. The difference? Sirius could be as much of a jerk to her as he pleased without consequence. No one expected him to mind his manners. Regulus, however, had to bite his tongue. She was the little sister of his Quidditch team's captain.
And so, Natalia Yaxley remained exactly what she had always been: a silly girl both Black brothers loved to ignore.
Regulus's gaze drifted, just for a breath, to the small gold wing at her throat. Old blood, old houses, old secrets. He looked away before the thought could finish forming.