Chapter Text
Chapter 1: The Wedding
Sirius Black balanced his chair on its back two legs as he watched his best friend twirl his bride across the dance floor once, then twice, then a third time, without showing any signs of stopping. So very many twists and turns, dips and pivots, it seemed as though Lily Ev-Potter could not possibly end this routine standing upright. The fairy lights decorating the tall spruces lining the forest glade illuminated the two dancers below. And there they spun again, and again, and again, as though the late-September air had made them weightless.
Sirius glanced down as his own wife, who was leaning forward, mouth slightly agape, staring at the couple in almost equal parts awe and nausea. He wrapped his arm around the back her chair, pulling her attention towards him.
“Oh don’t even think about it.” Her eyes scanned his face for any sign that he was about to pull her back on to the dance floor.
They had done their damnedest to keep up with the newlyweds, but even they needed a breather.
“Good,” she said, patting his chest where her wand sat in his breast pocket opposite his. A check, of sorts, not for the first time that night.
When James and Lily first discussed the rather broad guest list, and the limited magic policy that inevitability came with it, the two Blacks joked the they were going to need Obliviators to stand on the sidelines, ready to take action at any moment. The reality of the policy - sufficiently emphasized through the formal invitation and the frequent reminders – was slightly less amusing, particularly for his pocketless counterpart.
Isabella Rosier Black was certainly not used to being without her wand, and Sirius could tell it unnerved her more than most. She handled herself inconspicuously, but the frequent checks made it clear that she would not stand to be more than a few paces away from her wand at any given time.
Sirius was half-inclined to hand it over; the straw she kept twirling between her fingers was a rather sorry replacement, and he was certain it wouldn’t make a difference at this hour. The crowd had started to thin out, leaving only the younger and rowdier friends of the bride and groom, and even they were dwindling in energy as they’d been so thoroughly pumped full of liquor. The amount of booze that had been consumed by the guests ensured that if muggles did notice anything out of the ordinary, they weren’t exactly in the right mind to process it, let alone repeat it the next morning with any level of conviction.
But the Blacks promised to be on their best behavior, and, for the most part, they’d done just that.
Lily caught air on the latest twirl and Isabella's eyes brightened as she glanced back at Sirius once again with a knowing smile. Her eyes told more of a story than most people could deliver through a soliloquy and Sirius often found that he could keep himself entertained just watching her reactions.
And he was never the only one staring.
Her appearance alone commanded the attention of a crowd. She had the kind of haunting good looks that were conversation-worthy; a compliment he never quite knew how to receive. Over the years, he had come to discover that, as beautiful as she was, her appearance was really the least mesmerizing thing about her. It was her mind that enthralled him so completely. She was cunning and sharp, and could command a conversation like no other. She had both the ability and desire to absolutely eviscerate someone in a debate, and leave her opposition in stunned silence - all while wearing the most dazzling smile.
To say that it was an underappreciated skill of hers implied that it went unnoticed, but that it did not. It was far more accurate to say that it was simply an un-appreciated skill; one that many used as a justification for their dislike or distrust of her. There was nothing about Isabella that garnered sympathy; a former-Slytherin Rosier married to the Black heir who had made no pretenses to disguise her darker beliefs for anything other than what they were.
Those who knew her well, and the list was not extensive, knew how different she was from the mold she fit so perfectly on paper – she was one of Lily Evans’ bridesmaids for Merlin’s sake. Had Isabella cared deeply about how the Light families perceived her, Sirius knew she had the skills necessary to ‘fix’ her reputation. But she stood firm that sacrificing her own beliefs was far worse than not being liked.
It made Sirius love her all the more.
And she didn't exactly stand alone, particularly at a party like this. Those who had attended Hogwarts at the same time as Sirius had no doubts about his beliefs, but for those who hadn’t, the presence of the couple raised a number of questions. Though neither Sirius, nor Isabella, had ever given any indication of Death Eater sympathies, they were not in the Order of the Phoenix and their families’ affiliations weren’t exactly unknown.
The newspapers couldn’t go a day without printing another story of a Dark Mark floating above another house or store, or worse, a neighborhood or district. Outside of some of the most brutal, the events had all begun to bleed together, though it didn’t soften the grim terror the procession of them brought about. The suspected Death Eaters behind each of the attacks weren’t always included - in fact, it had become less common over the years to name names. But that didn’t mean people did not know the ones behind them. And there were a few names that cropped up far more often than others – Rosier and Black amongst them.
Now, it hardly would’ve mattered had their names been spared in the papers, the Blacks were already a contentious family amongst those of lighter beliefs.
The Black family had always represented power. Power and violence. It was said that the victors of every major war over the last millennium could be tracked through the movement of the Black’s vast wealth. Whether they simply backed the future victors or if it was the money itself that moved the tides of the war, no one outside of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black could say. But the Black’s funds and a victory were ostensibly connected.
Both the Order and the Death Eaters understood that too well.
The oldest witches and wizards still remembered some of the most recent Goblin Rebellions and the Giant Wars at the end of the 19th century, and recalled the history and the consequences of going up against a Black. But the Blacks had made a controversial decision to not pick a side in Grindelwald’s war and now, the current Head, Arcturus Black, had chosen not to take a stand in the growing war with the new Dark Lord.
Of course, that did not mean that the heir would make the same decision when it was his time, and both the Order and the Death Eaters understood that as well.
A tall, rather severe-looking woman approached their table with a surprisingly warm smile on her otherwise sharp face.
“Dorcas. Dorcas Meadowes. It’s such a pleasure to meet you, Isabella!” The formidable witch shook her hand firmly. “I’ve been a friend of the Potters for many, many decades now. I met your husband – Merlin – that would’ve been, what, four years ago now? Five? Is that right? When he was staying with the Potters for the summer.”
“It’s great to see you again Ms. Meadowes,” Sirius said, enthusiastically shaking her hand.
“Please, Dorcas is quite alright. Is this reminding you all of your wedding? Hasn’t been too long now, has it?”
“Just over a year now,” Sirius smiled, affectionately squeezing his wife’s arm, “we had our one-year anniversary on August 8th.”
“Lion’s Gate Portal?”
“You’re familiar?” he said with some surprise. “Do you practice divination?”
“No, I’m afraid I don’t have the inner eye. My great-aunt was a seer though, and I must say the mystic arts are fascinating, really. I’ve heard the, uh, Blacks have the talent, is that right?”
“Well, we do, but it’s a very niche focus on numerology and astrology. And with the way we weave in arithmancy and astronomy, it feels rather technical, to be transparent, rather than ‘mystical’,” Sirius laughed, curious to see where Dorcas would take the conversation. The topic often brought out an unflattering side of people; those uncomfortably and unsubtly too curious, and those entirely uncurious, but eagerly to declare the Blacks war profiteers.
“If you don’t mind me asking, how does it work? I don’t know how much you can share, but I promise I can’t replicate it, I just find it really interesting."
He grinned.
“My family keeps record of astrological positionings and implications for key dates of battles, attacks, notable actions or statements, with a particular focus on the number of days in between these critical events and the power of those numbers. From there, you can forecast out the likelihood of future event dates, and based on the relative astrological position and power of those dates, you could make a fairly sound judgement on the likelihood of success. Expand the forecast to account for both sides of the war, and project out, and, hypothetically, we can predict the end outcome, as well as each significant success or loss, only weeks into a conflict.”
“And what about what cannot be predicted?” she inquired further, her expression devoid of any sort of pretense.
“The use of astrology helps account for the unprecedented moments. Unfortunately," Sirius paused and shook his head; he had to admit part of him was impressed with her restraint and tact, but it was rather important to not let it distract him. He needed to cut it there, “it’s a good deal more complicated in practice, I hardly claim I know what I’m doing yet.”
“Oh, Merlin, it doesn’t sound uncomplicated at all. And don’t worry, I’m not here to ask you how the war ends, I mean, unless you’re hoping to share!” Dorcas gave a hearty, if not slightly forced, laugh, “But I will say, with James, and of course Lily, and your other friends, Remus and Peter, I’m surprise you yourself didn’t join the Order? Or… haven’t yet?”
This was a far more common line of questioning, and one he had a well-rehearsed explanation for.
“It’s a fair question, with what I’ve found most to feel is an unsatisfying answer; I simply had to put my family first. I’ll admit there’s a long explanation that I don’t feel that either of us want me to get into at a wedding, but I will say this – my father passed away this past spring. That makes me no longer the future heir, but the heir to the Sacred House of Black. And there are responsibilities I’ve accepted with that.”
“That must be challenging,” Dorcas replied, sounding more sympathetic than concerned, “you’ve never struck me as traditional Black.”
No matter where the conversation started, it always seemed to end the same way.
“You know,” he said, the slightest hint of annoyance in his voice. “you don’t need to tear down a building just because you hate the wall paper. I feel that I can do more from the inside than the outside.”
“I suppose that’s very fair,” Dorcas smiled, “if more people focused on fixing their own families, this mess wouldn’t have gotten half as bad.”
Sirius nodded and reciprocated her smile; he couldn’t have said it better himself.
“And you, Isabella?" she continued. "I suppose I don’t know your political affiliations but married to Sirius here, and one of dear Lily’s bridesmaids along with her sister and Marlene, I assume you’re not…” her voice trailed off.
“Well, I’m not a Death Eater!” Isabella responded defensively. “And none of the Rosiers in my immediate family are either, I always want to highlight as well.”
“Apologies, I didn’t mean to imply -” Dorcas took a deep breath. “That was rude of me. I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s fine; I think I just get used to how these conversations often go.” Isabella shook it off before continuing, “No one expected me to join the Order out of Hogwarts, even engaged to Sirius. And of course there were a myriad of other factors, especially with family, at play. But that doesn’t mean I don't see the unique position we're in and I do hope that I’m taking full advantage of it. The world isn’t split between Death Eaters and Order members; most fall somewhere in the middle, and those are the most important people to reach as perspectives become polarized.
“I don’t want people radicalized,” Isabella concluded, though Sirius doubted Dorcas understood her full meaning. “And I don’t think that’s something that I would be as effective at stopping if I were in the Order.”
“You know, you’re not wrong - we can get lost in the need to react to what they’ve done, but prevention is equally critical and often missed. But I’d be remiss if I didn’t say that if you ever do want to work with us, it’s not a ridged system. And we’re willing to accommodate if there’s a need for flexibility or subtlety, I promise. I think you both have a lot we could benefit from hearing. And we’d love your input. Both of you. Anyway,” Dorcas gave them a big grin. “I’ve said my piece – it was so good to see you Sirius, and so nice to meet you, Isabella. Don’t hesitate to reach out!”
And with that, Dorcas Meadowes was off into the crowd.
Sirius waited until he was certain she was well out of earshot, before nudging his wife.
“Still haven’t gotten back to including your old spiel?”
“Shush -” Isabella gave him a flick of the wrist, “- ‘cause that’s really won us a lot of friends in the past.”
Isabella had long-argued against the lighter families’ - and in turn the Order’s - condemnation of the Dark Arts. Had she been more refined in her Hogwarts days, she would’ve watched her words in front of the less-than-receptive Gryffindors, but that was not in her nature. Her remarks were met with mild interest at best, and deep-seated concern at worst.
There was no appetite for an open dialogue on the Dark Arts, and it had only gotten more taboo since their Hogwarts days as the war dragged on.
While the ‘Dark Arts’ had originally referred only to the darkest elements of magic - brutally harmful spells or practices - it had evolved to encompass all practices that required negative, or Dark, emotions to execute. There was some logic to defining it by negative emotions. One of the most referenced justifications was difference between the Cruciatus Curse and the Patronus Charm; both required strong emotions, but on opposite ends of the spectrum, and the outcomes and consequences were vastly different.
The problem was, Isabella argued, as with any kind of blanket label, it encompassed far more than it should. Not only did it strip away millenniums-old rituals and traditions that had been unharmful, if not actively beneficial, for many wizarding families; the truth was that some reasonable magic simply required fear, anger, hopelessness, hatred, or jealousy to be performed at its strongest.
The recent wars caused many lighter families to take an even harder line against anything that was perceived as Dark. Just in the last few decades, practices like blood magic and animal sacrifices, and even books referencing these practices, were made illegal. The justifications behind the legal changes were vague at best. Isabella emphasized that these new restrictions didn’t fit within any prior definition of the Dark Arts; they weren’t brutally harmful to other witches or wizards and nor did they require strong negative emotions to practice.
It was the legal suppression of ancient traditions, and it was the Dark families who were bearing the brunt.
Isabella let her objections be known until there came a time where it was genuinely foolish to do so. There were already other reasons for their neutrality - reasons that they were even more restricted from discussing - so in turn, their public explanation moved further and further from the truth.
“But family?” Sirius whispered, his discontent unsubtle in his tone. “That’s what we’re giving them? It's a rather controversial, if not flat-out insane, explanation for you and I. Someone’s going to call us out eventually. I just feel like we ought to be able to give them - well, obviously not full truth - but a reality check. They ought to be able to at least hear it.”
“Of course they ought to hear it, it doesn’t mean they’ll listen to a word…”
He would’ve laughed it had it been anything other than a depressing reality he’d come to discover in the past few years.
Sirius had spent most of the summer months between his 6th and 7th year working with his grandfather on controlling what he less that affectionately referred to as ‘The Black Curse.’ His 6th year had done a phenomenal job putting his impetuous tendencies on full display, and after crossing more than a few lines, he knew something had to change. His grandfather told him that this was not some lost cause; that this flaw was trainable, controllable, even useful.
He just needed an outlet.
His family, for centuries, channeled this… excess energy into the so-called ‘Dark Arts’. And there were reasons it worked. The Dark Arts required an immense amount power and control, and by focusing that negative energy into it, a witch or wizard could get a far better grasp of not just their magic, but their emotions as well. For Darker families, his grandfather explained, it was both a source of power and tool for managing it.
Though it had taken him a while to get over his initial biases, Sirius ultimately felt that Isabella’s arguments were on the mark.
The label itself was the problem, not the magic.
Not that they could say it.
“I’m surprised to see you both here,” a gruff voice spoke behind them, forcing them to whip around.
“Oh, Alastor Moody, correct?” Sirius reached out to shake the grim-looking man’s hand – a gesture that went unreciprocated.
“And surprised to see us here?” Isabella asked, clearly irritated. “At our best friends’ wedding? We’re both in the wedding party.”
“Yeah, I noticed that. Might have to do a refresh with the young Potters on identification of Dark wizards.”
“I’m sorry, what?” Isabella shot back. “Who the HELL are you?”
“He’s an Auror, love,” Sirius answered through gritted teeth, “a rather famous one at that.”
“Right you are, sonny. Your family has certainly gotten to know me well, haven’t they?” Moody smiled in a way that sent chills down his spin before taking a seat to Sirius’ left. “And you, Miss Rosier, Malfoy, Black - whatever you’re going by nowadays, I’ve had the dubious pleasure of getting know your family as well. Funny that I’m only now getting to meet you both…”
“It’s Black,” Isabella attempted to say as calmly as possible; clearly aware that her temper would not fly. “Isabella Rosier to Isabella Black. It’s never been Malfoy.”
“But you were engaged to one for a while, weren’t you?”
“Not… exactly. It was a mistake, really,” Isabella said, awfully casually for a topic Sirius knew she hated as much as this one. “A few months...”
Isabella's sharp tongue wasn't the only thing that contributed to her less-than-stellar reputation at Hogwarts. There was also the matter of the engagements - plural. She had, with Sirius’ help, leveraged their relationship to get as far away from marrying a Death Eater as possible; though no one outside of their closest friends even knew that much. It wouldn't do to draw attention to such politically-charged motives. The whole ordeal, along with the mystery surrounding it, was hardly well-received, but within a day had made her all the more enigmatic.
As the years passed, there was this sense that, eventually, people would forget about the turbulent beginning of Sirius and her relationship and her unusual history with Lucius Malfoy. All parties involved had moved on; it couldn’t stay the preferred cocktail party gossip forever. But approaching three years on and the questions like these hadn’t stopped. Nor the comments, nor the concerns.
“Right,” Moody said, disconcertingly cheerfully, “and then swept under the rug rather swiftly when you two came to light! It was nice to see the Blacks, Rosiers, and Malfoys all working together for once, you know, without masks on.”
“Oh good Merlin, let’s not go there,” Sirius said sharply, struggling not to reach for his wand. He could feel Isabella's eyes, too, burning a hole in his breast pocket.
“What was that?” Moody taunted. “You’re not trying to deny the family pastime, are you?”
“There’s no need to test us,” Sirius said slowly, making sure no one else around them could hear. “We’re not insane; we’re not going to attack an Auror… particularly not here.”
“Good, good,” Moody laughed. “I’ve heard rumors that you’re both rather brutal fighters. I understand you weren’t exactly friendly with that crowd in school, is that right?”
“Yeah, I’d say my detention records substantiate that.”
“Potter’s too, Potter’s too,” Moody laughed again. He had this horse laugh that almost sounded like he was clearing his throat. “It’s a shame then, that neither of you deviated that much from your family…”
“Oh I’m not sure that’s true!” Lily Potter swung up behind the couple, wrapping her arms around their shoulders. “They’re here, aren’t they?”
“Hmm. Sure.”
“Oh come now, Moody, why don’t you leave our friends alone. I’m certain you’re not being very nice and they’re under veeeery strict instructions to behave. And they’ve been doing a marvelous job, I’d hate to ruin it!”
“Fine.” He rose with a huff, glaring between the two Blacks. “Good to finally meet you both, I’ll be keeping an eye out.”
“I’m sorry!” Lily exclaimed as the infamous Auror stomped off. “Was he just awful to you both? He’s so bloody paranoid; phenomenal Auror, but an absolute arse. Disregard everything. Unless he said anything nice, then you can remember that – but ONLY that! Okay? Okay!”
Lily grinned from ear and latched on to Isabella’s arm, pulling her up from the table.
“I’m gonna pump you so full of liquor you’re going to forget about that entire interaction!”
“Trying to get me to catch up to you?!” Isabella cackled.
“ABSOLUTELY! Come come and help me find my HUSBAND!” Lily dropped her voice as she glanced between the two Blacks, “And alsoooo I saw you two coming back from the woods earlier?! At my wedding no less!? Scandalous!”
“Oh no, Lily! I was… well it doesn’t matter. I swear to Merlin, I would never!”
“You would always! You both!” She laughed and then paused as a look of guilt flash across her face. “Were you avoiding my sister and Vernon?”
Isabella neglected to respond, exchanging another quick glance with Sirius.
“Oh whatever,” Lily shrugged it off, unfazed, “I suppose we can both have our own story.”
“You know I promised to be on my best behavior…” Isabella gave Lily a guilty grin which sent Lily off entirely.
“Merlin Isabella, whatever will we do with you?” she cackled.
“Get me another drink?” Isabella managed to say through her own stifled laughs.
“BRILLIANT!”
They proceeded to dance the night away, their glasses full and heads half-empty. The four boys in particular were getting absolutely sloshed and were forces to be reckoned with. By the time Isabella and Sirius both found their way back to the dance floor, Peter had fallen asleep underneath a table that lined the perimeter and Remus was trying him damnedest impress a group of Lily’s muggle cousins, but how exactly he thought he was impressing them was completely lost on the observer. In fact, Remus had exclusively spoken in incoherent babbles since he approached the group. Sirius had gotten to the stage of drunk where competitions felt like quite a good idea. Had Isabella not been in heels and a floor-length dress, she almost certainly would’ve been forced into the foot race that Sirius insisted was ‘a reaaaaally important test.’ James out of the whole group was the most coherent, except on the rare occasions he tried to talk to anyone other than Lily, where he would simply zone out and stare in his new bride’s direction.
As 3 AM crept around the corner, even the stragglers agreed it was time to depart the grounds. Apparating in their current state felt like a recipe for disaster, so the Potter’s directed the guests to the floo.
Isabella and Sirius took their leave to their estate in the countryside just outside of Godric’s Hollow. Their house was far bigger than the two of them needed right now. But if it were to be there home up until they took on the Black Manor or, Merlin-forbid, 12 Grimmauld Place, they wanted the space.
As they stepped out of the floo on the wrong side of devil’s hour, they saw a shadow shift in one of the armchairs in the dimly lit living room.
They froze.
There was no one, outside of the people who had been at the party, that they’d welcome in their home, and uninvited visitor meant nothing good. Within a second of their arrival, their wands were out.
“Wait hold your spells – I’m just here to talk!” an unmistakable voice shouted in a panic.
Regulus Black had made his presence known.