Is it not the choosing that makes the life we live so intricate?
Are the options we have too endless to control?
Can we oversee the offers and their demands and their goals?
Can we oversee our own needs if we do not know
What it is we really want?
Our minds, instead of our hearts
What we feel confuses our thoughts
Security, an ancient quest
Standing alone, the ultimate test
Still we reach for warmth in the materialized luxuries in life
The times have changed but we are stille the same
Another choice ‘cause we still don’t know
Let me see where I belong
Let me be a little part of it
Can I choose my way in life?
Can I dream, can I feel, could I know my choice?
A choice without the illusion that luck is for sale
‘cause I have all that money can buy
-After Forever
“I’m not going to do anything just yet.” That was what she had told Septimus that night, the answer she had given herself, completely insufficient as it was. “I’m going to think, and I’m going to work something out”somehow”“
“It’ll be all right, Drell,” he had assured her as she grimaced.
“Yes,” she had said, with a confidence she did not feel, ashamed he was the one reassuring her. “It must. I…” she could not think of anything precisely to say that would express what was going on in her mind just then. “I’m going to work something out,” she repeated.
“Of course you are. I know you can. I’m sorry I yelled at you, I just can’t stand the idea”“
“I know,” Cedrella had said, shushing him. “Let’s not talk about it anymore now. I forgive you. I’m sorry too. Of course.” She kissed him quickly. “I’m going to go in now.”
He had caught her hand in that way that always made her heartbeat stutter. “All right, but, Drell, promise me something? You’re not going to just pretend all this isn’t happening, are you? It’s not the future, it’s now, we’re in it, and I want”promise me you’re going to come up with another solution besides picking which jerk you’ll be condemned to wait on for the rest of your life.”
“An interesting way of looking at it,” she had said, trying to make light of his words and hide the hurt and fear they caused her. When he didn’t smile she had sighed. “I can’t promise you anything, Sep, except that I’m going to try.”
“That’s enough for now.”
“For now?”
“For now,” he repeated. “Goodnight, Drell. I love you.”
She had hesitated, wanting to say it but hating to admit it, and then whispered “I love you too, I think.” And then she had hurried away across the lawn.
**
Four days later, Cedrella sat in History of Magic, no closer to a solution to her problem than she had been that night by the lake. It wasn’t for a lack for trying, however”she done quite well with her promise to Septimus so far. She thought she had been preoccupied before, worrying over Charis and her request for most of her free hours. But for the last four days, Cedrella’s every waking moment (as well as most of her sleeping ones) had been spent trying to see a solution to the situation she had gotten herself into”a situation in which wherever she turned, she was going to hurt not only herself but one of the two people she cared about the most: Charis, or Septimus. That, of course, was the problem in its simplest, purest form. Throw in the rest of her family, her obligations to the Blacks and to her sister, the whole business with the owls, whatever Charis and possibly Rodney Selwyn were hiding from her, and what she was growing surer each day was her love for Septimus, and Cedrella felt she could say, with a considerable amount of certainty, that this was a problem that had no solution. Her plan from that January”to simply do what she liked, and to ignore what was coming”felt foolish and hollow and naive, and she knew she couldn’t go back to it.
For what felt like the tenth time that day, Cedrella dipped her quill into her ink and began a list.
Things I Cannot Do
1) Break my promise to S. I’m going to keep working on this until I’m 100% sure there is no elegant solution.
2) Let Charis loose her chance with Lucifer and think it was my fault. (There has to be some was to ensure this other than picking someone for myself first).
Once more she paused, her quill hovering hesitantly over the paper.
3) Turn my back on my family.
4) Ever be cut off from Septimus completely.
Cedrella surveyed the last two items on the list with deep gloom. It was perfectly plain to her that they were contradictory. Her family would never allow her to see Septimus, even if he was only her friend. And once she was married she could see no way to communicate with him except through letters and secrecy. Far from the fact that Cedrella was not sure she could bear going back to letters after everything she and Septimus had shared, she was quite certain that “lets be pen pals” was not the solution Septimus was hoping for or expecting.
What does he want from me? she wondered for the thousandth time. What is he expecting me to do, declare my relationship with him to the world and accept the consequences? But as ridiculous as that sounded in her head, Cedrella had a nagging feeling that that was exactly what Septimus wanted her to do. Well, I won’t, she thought. I couldn’t. I can’t. No, argued the little voice the back of her mind. But there is another way
“Black?” She looked up with a start. The room was empty except for Eleanor Selwyn, who was looking a bit suspicious. “The lesson is over.”
“Right, thank you, Eleanor, I was just finishing up a conclusion to my notes,” Cedrella said, rolling up her parchment tightly with a flick of her wand. Then she picked up her bag and brushed past the other girl without another word, holding her head erect. You are aloof, she thought. She is meddling and you are better than she is. And for that moment, it was true. But the feeling of superiority and the sight of Eleanor’s angry face gave Cedrella no pleasure at all.
After a fast and solitary dinner, Cedrella retreated to the library. She headed to her favorite, hidden corner and took out the exhaustive Flint Family Tree she had been working on for weeks. She traced the labored over lines that linked her, however distantly, to Gloria Flint without really looking at them. A thought that had nested, unacknowledged, in her mind since her argument with Septimus had finally shown itself in History of Magic that afternoon, before she was interrupted by the youngest Selwyn. It was time, Cedrella decided, to let it out. And so she closed her eyes and allowed the impossible idea to fill her mind: What if Father agreed to let me marry Septimus?
March 30th, 1934
Dear Father,
I hope this letter finds you and Mother well. I was pleased to see in that paper that you have secured another business contract with Mr. Macmillan, though not surpised”you have always been more than capable at managing the trust.
I am well here at Hogwarts. Exams are of course not far away and I am busy studying. Arithmancy and Potions, especially, are proving to be challenging and rewarding. I have been tutoring some third-year students in both subjects, including Emma Greengrass and the Prince boy. The professors are certainly expanding the tutoring program, and I am proud to say that they have chosen all Purebloods so far. I know that Fiona Bones, of Ravenclaw, has been tutoring Charms, and Professor Dumbledore has Septimus Weasley, a seventh year, helping with Transfiguration. Apparently he’s quite brilliant.
I hoped to begin some correspondence about Charis. It has come to my attention that there are rumors circulating among the students about her relationship with Lucifer Malfoy. Several individuals have even forgotten their place and asked Charis or I about it, and we have been struggling to find the correct response. Of course it is entirely between his family and ours, and they have no business speaking of it. All the same, I hope to be able to give a definitive answer soon and put down the rumors. If you have any advice or say-so on the matter, I would be pleased to hear it. Charis and Malfoy have been dealing with it perfectly, and I respect young Mr. Malfoy a great deal for the way he treats Charis and the entire situation. I of course do not mean to pry, but I hope an engagement announcement will be forthcoming soon.
Enjoy your holidays in France and please send Mother and the Malfoys my regards.
Sincerely,
Your Daughter
Cedrella E. Black
This was the letter that Cedrella wrote, painstakingly recopied, and mailed the following day. She did not show it to Charis, and because her sister had recently denied to show her important letters to home and because the point of the letter really was to help her sister, anyway, she did not feel too guilty about this.
It was a good idea”not as good (or bad, depending on how one looked at it) as Charis’ own, but sound all the same. If there was one thing their parents hated it was rumors defiling the family name, and if there was one person who knew how to manipulate Arcturus Black into doing what she wanted it was Cedrella. If she could just get her father to accept and announce the engagement, that would solve half her problems. The smaller half, it was true, but Cedrella didn’t know what else to do. I talked him into letting me continue at Hogwarts, she reminded herself. And I talked him out of punishing me too harshly for the detention or the Rodney incident. I can do this.
Charis caught up with her the day after she sent the letter, as Cedrella hurried from the Common Room to “patrol,” which was usually code these days for “the Owlery to meet Septimus.” “I have been thinking,” she said, as her sister opened her mouth. “Believe me Charis, I have. I mailed a letter to Father yesterday.”
Charis’ grey eyes grew wide. “So, you told him...?”
“I told him that I’ve been tutoring third years, and that I was pleased to her about his continuing business interactions with the Macmillans.”
Charis rolled her eyes. “And?”
“And, I do believe that the rest is my business,” Cedrella said.
Charis scowled. “Cedrella, you have to tell what you wrote! Are you saying you’re not even going to tell me who you picked?”
“I never said that I picked anyone,” Cedrella retorted, swallowing her dislike of this game of half-lies she was playing with her sister. “But if I had, then you would be right, I’m not going to tell you. It’s not really your concern, Charis. But you should know that I am trying to help you. That’s why I wrote the letter.” She lowered her voice. “If you want to marry Lucifer, then that’s what I want too.”
“You promise that you’ll help me?” Charis whispered back, looking up at her with angry eyes that Cedrella didn’t understand.
“I’m already trying, Charis. I promise you that.”
“All right.”
“Good,” Cedrella said, touching her sister briefly on the shoulder. “I have to go patrol now, Charis. Goodnight.”
And she stepped out of the Common Room into the dimly lit castle, wondering how many more promises she could keep.
**
Though the next few weeks were by some token happy and quite similar to the past month or so, Cedrella could feel a constant tenseness in the air around her that had not been present before. She still spoke with Charis”not as often as she once had, but fairly regularly”and yet there was a strain to their conversations, as if both knew that the other was hiding something, and resented them for it. Cedrella hated this change, subtle though it was, in her relationship with her sister, even though she knew it was partly her own fault. She talked about it at length with Septimus, who was always fairly understanding when it came to siblings, but even that outlet felt different to Cedrella now. She and Septimus still laughed as they always did, still discussed her research and spoke about family and school and anything else they could think of, still met in the Owlery or on the grounds or in the corner of the library at odd hours several times a week. He still slipped notes into her textbooks and sweets from his packages from home into her pockets, and she still saved every scrap of paper with his handwriting on it in a growing pile under her mattress. And yet often Cedrella could feel their argument hanging in the air between them”the uncertainty, the frustration, and the urgency over the future and what was going to happen to them. Cedrella knew Septimus was growing agitated, and knew he was trying to give her space, to give her time, trying not to mention it. So many times she had seen his eyes narrow, his forehead crease, and his fists clench at the slightest mention of her family or the end of the year, and she felt simultaneously sad and grateful that he was containing his temper”his very fiery, hotheaded, loveable nature”for her benefit. There was certainly a seriousness between them that had not been there before. And yet despite that (or perhaps because of it?) she knew she was falling harder for him every day. She never mentioned it, and neither did he”but she had a feeling that he knew, as well.
The Easter holidays arrived, and Septimus went home to visit his family. He had tried to convince Cedrella to come stay with him, and though she had responded with a lighthearted “don’t be ridiculous, Sep,” she wanted to say yes more than she ever would have admitted. She wanted, badly, to experience the life that the Weasleys shared, so radically different from her own, that Septimus had described so vividly to her. But she wasn’t foolish enough to try to make it happen. Explaining that to Charis would involve transparent and complicated lies”it could never be. And so Cedrella kissed him goodbye and they promised to write, and she settled into the break at Hogwarts, relieved she herself wasn’t going home and determined to make the most of her week off.
She took long walks around the grounds, savoring the fresh air and warm breeze. She took her schoolwork outside and sat in the courtyard or by the lake studying in the pleasant outdoor light. She visited Pepper, and was treated to strong coffee and lots of informative stories about his aunt and her distant relative, Gloria Flint, the bird-speaker. She enjoyed his company so much that she returned each day after that, and spent many happy hours talking to the gruff gamekeeper while he mended socks and oiled traps, helping him peel potatoes for his dinner in return for the conversation and coffee. With both Mathias and Cleo at work, she and Septimus exchanged letters almost every day. And she spent long hours in the quiet of her empty dormitory drafting letters to her father, in a plan of persuasion which, though far-fetched, she thought might just work and make her wildest dreams come true. It was a productive and peaceful holiday, as long as Cedrella didn’t think too long about her strained connection with Charis or that fact that once term began, she had little more than a month left in the little paradise she had built for herself.
April 17th, 1934
Dear Drell,
I’m so glad you’ve been spending time with Pepper! He is an awfully interesting guy, and he knows so much about so many different things that you wouldn’t expect, which I’m sure you are discovering. I hope he hasn’t been telling you too many embarrassing stories about my brothers and I though”he certainly knows them all. Like the time in my second year while we were serving detention for him and we were supposed to be catching bowtruckles… Well, I’ll let him tell you.
Mum has been getting on me all week about what I am going to do once I leave Hogwarts, and I keep telling her that I don’t know what I want yet, but she’s not having it. Rudy finally stuck up for me today at breakfast and pointed out to her that he didn’t have a plan when he finished school, either, and it was never a problem then, which is perfectly true. She got quite tight-lipped and said something about “well your father was around to support us then” and Rudy and I looked at one another and just left the kitchen and had a game of Quidditch in the field. Perhaps we shouldn’t have done it, but I can’t stand talking about Dad or money with Mum, and this was both.
It’s great to spend time with Rudy, though. I’ve told him more about you, and he wants to meet you. I think the two of you would get on well. He will tease you worse than I do, which is something I would love to see.
I miss you, Drell. Write again soon, and I will see you in six days. (Yes, I’m counting).
Love,
Sep
April 18th, 1934
Dear Septimus,
You do realize you have to tell me that story about the bowtruckles now, or I will ask Pepper. But to answer your question, no, he hasn’t been telling tales on you”I’ve been hearing lots about his childhood, and his mother and his aunt that we have a particular interest in. I’ve actually taken down some of the stories about Gloria and added them to my research files. He’s such a fascinating man and though I don’t think he knows what to make of me, he’s always friendly and open with me and all my questions.
I hope you haven’t argued any more with your mother”it won’t do either of you any good, you know. She definitely has your best interests at heart, which I know you are aware of, but it doesn’t hurt to remind you. And I’m certain that it will get easier to talk about your father, you all just need time. I would love to meet Rudy someday, of course, though the idea does make me slightly nervous. But I’ve always done all right dealing with you”so how much harder could it be?
Charis hasn’t spoken to me all week. I have admittedly been avoiding my Housemates, studying outside or in the Owlery and spending time down at Pepper’s hut. But times when we have been together, such as at meals, Charis doesn’t talk to me. I am worried about her, and yet it is so hard to be around her these days that I am almost relieved. Which, of course, makes me feel even guiltier. I am going to have to do something about this, you know. Perhaps we can come up with a plan when you return.
Mathias has spent the afternoon with me on the grounds, so I’ll send this along with him now. I miss you and cannot wait to see you again in five days. The castle is not the same without you in it.
xo
Cedrella
April 23th, 1934
Cedrella,
Thank you for your letter and the concerns you have expressed. You are correct that this matter of your sister’s engagement is strictly between the Malfoy family and ours. Please continue to monitor the situation at Hogwarts. You have my assurance that this matter will be decided by the Solstice.
I am pleased to hear of your tutoring opportunities and that the professors are taking note of the superior talent of Purebloods such as yourself. I trust you will continue to excel in this area.
Your mother and I are enjoying France.
Sincerely,
Your Father
Arcturus S. Black
April 24th, 1934
Dear Father,
Thank you for your attention to the matter of rumors I wrote to you about. I will naturally pay attention to the situation and keep you and Mother updated. Charis and Malfoy have gotten even more attention since the pictures in the Prophet of the Blacks and the Malfoys vacationing together, but they are handling it well.
In other matters, I had a conversation with Greta Carmichael, the current Head Girl, a few days ago about my chances of assuming the position in the fall. She was helpful and positive, though she did say that Professor Dippet has been less consistent with his choice of Purebloods over the last few years. This year, for example, she had to share the position with Gryffindor and Mudblood Francis O’Connor. We discussed the fact that some of my fellow tutors, such as Prince or Weasley, would have been much more qualified. If I were to be in a similar situation next year (for many students in my year, such as Marvin Burke, who might otherwise be eligible, have been seen around with a few too many girls as of late) I have to step up to be the real leadership of the students that matter. I am eager and willing to do this, and Carmichael assured me that I had her recommendation.
Send my regards to Mother as always.
Your devoted daughter,
Cedrella E Black
**
“I’m a terrible sister,” Cedrella announced, closing the heavy oak door to the Owlery.
“Says who?” asked Septimus, turning away from the window to look at her.
“Says me,” she said.
“All right,” Septimus said, grinning at her. “Fair enough. But how about ‘congratulations on finishing your N.E.W.Ts, my beloved Sep, and on Gryffindor winning the House Cup, as well, mostly due to your excellent Quidditch skills!’”
“The points aren’t finalized until tomorrow night,” Cedrella retorted, joining him at the window. “Don’t count your owls before they’re delivered, Weasley.”
Septimus laughed easily. “Are you expecting a sudden windfall for Slytherin, then?”
“I’ve learned to expect the unexpected,” Cedrella said loftily.
“You’ve also learned to banter like the best of them, Miss Black.”
“I had an excellent teacher,” she said. Septimus smiled. “But I suspect the most credit goes to my own sharp wit,” she added.
Septimus kissed her. “There’s no doubt about that.” They smiled at one another, standing together in the familiar window of the Owlery. It was warm, with a light breeze drifting through the window, the sort of June night when the air feels like the exact temperature of your skin. Mathias, perched nearby as usual, cooed softly. “What did he say?” asked Septimus.
“Nothing specific,” Cedrella said. “He just likes to see us like this. We’re his two favorite people”isn’t that right, Mat?”
The owl hooted in agreement. And then the other chimed in, calling and cooing to Cedrella, expressing their own pleasure that she was there and that she was happy.
She clucked back to them, smiling, marveling at the speed with which Septimus and the owls could transform a bad mood into a good one.
Septimus took her hand and pulled her down to sit beside him in the fresh hay piled under the window. “I love watching you talk to them like that,” he said. “It never gets any less fascinating.” Cedrella smiled and stroked one hand through his tousled red hair. “I sound like Demetrius,” he muttered, more to himself than to her. “You know something?” he said after a moment.
“What?” she asked, curling a piece of his hair around one finger.
“Last April, I came up here late one night to send a letter,” Septimus said. “And I had only opened the door a crack when I realized there was already someone here. It was a girl, in a white nightdress, and she had owls perched on her arms and flying around her head, and she was twirling. Spinning, and smiling. I watched for a few minutes and then I left, because I didn’t want to disturb her.”
“That was me,” Cedrella said softly.
“I know,” Septimus said. “Afterwards I tried to figure out who it had been, and I realized a few weeks later, when I passed you and your sister talking in the corridor, that it was you. I…I watched you, after that.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m a boy, and I like to solve mysteries, especially ones involving beautiful girls.”
“If that was a compliment, I didn’t appreciate it,” Cedrella told him, and he laughed. “That’s how you knew my name,” she said, after a moment. “When I first met you, in October. You said ‘thanks, Cedrella.’ And I had no idea how you knew who I was.”
“I knew of you before that,” Septimus said. “But yes, that’s why. I thought you were fascinating. And that’s why I went to the Owlery in the first place, that day, because I wanted somewhere that was just away, and I thought of that night, and you.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“I made quite the impression on you, didn’t I? How come you’ve never told me before?”
Septimus shrugged. “It didn’t seem important.”
“Silly. It’s important to me.”
“Well, I’m glad I told you, then. But I don’t fathom the way your mind works, Drell Black.”
“Oh, stop.”
“What? I call you Drell all the time!”
“I know, and I’ve given it up as a lost cause. But you can’t pair it with Black.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because you can’t,” Cedrella said.
She knew he was rolling his eyes, even though she couldn’t see his face. But for once he didn’t push it. They sat there in silence for a minute, enjoying the warm June air, and then Septimus said, “So what’s this about you being a horrible sister?”
“Oh,” Cedrella said, sighing. “That. It’s nothing really, just more of the same. I sat with Charis tonight, and we barely spoke. She was gossiping with Mattie the whole time, and I didn’t even have the guts to reprimand her, because I didn’t want to start an argument. That’s all we ever do anymore, Sep, is argue. I don’t know how it happened. We used to be so close! It’s my job to fix it, I know it is. Because I have to be there for her, to take care of her and her mistakes. But lately I’ve just… avoided her. It’s terribly irresponsible of me. But practically every time we talk she starts needling me about my engagement, and that’s the last thing I want to talk to her about.” She leaned her head against Septimus’ shoulder, stopping for a moment to marvel at the way her thoughts had spilled from her lips, unscripted, baring her feelings to an outsider. So much has changed this year, she thought. Everything has changed.
Septimus stroked her hands in his characteristic way, saying nothing. Cedrella knew he had heard her say all this before, and she also knew that he was thinking about her engagement, wondering whether to bring up the taboo subject of the future.
She took a deep breath. She had promised herself she would tell him tonight. It was, after all, her last chance to do so. “It’s all right, Sep,” she said, steeling herself. “You can ask. I know you want to. We need to talk about it.”
Septimus let out a long, slow breath. “I don’t want to argue with you tonight.”
She smoothed his hair, more fond of him in that moment than she had ever been. He was willing to keep quiet about it, on their last night, to spare her feelings, to make her happy, and she loved him for it. Septimus was not at first glance a particularly sensitive person, and his sweetness still took her by surprise at odd moments. “I’ve been writing to Father,” she said at last, her voice quiet. “He’s assured me that the “rumors” about Charis and Lucifer will be quelled by the Solstice. I think that means he’s going to announce their betrothal then. I’m almost positive.”
“Isn’t there a chance he’ll tell you who you’re marrying then, too?” Septimus asked.
“Yes,” Cedrella said. “But Charis isn’t the only thing I’ve been writing to him about, Sep. I’ve been…dropping hints. Tiny ones, but all the same… and I’ll have two and a half weeks to work on him once I get home, before the Solstice. I think that will be enough time.”
“Enough time for what?” Septimus asked. He sounded nervous. “What have you been hinting about?”
Cedrella took another silent, steadying breath. “You,” she said. “I’ve been… I mean, you’re still a Pureblood, Sep. I think I can convince him….This is the only way I can think to make everything right.”
Septimus’ eyes were wide in his boyish face. He looked at her intently. “Explain,” he said. “Tell me what you mean.”
“I mean that I’m hoping I can convince Father to announce my engagement….to you.” Silence. “It’s not going to be easy,” Cedrella rushed on. “I don’t know if it’s going to work. You’re going to have to act a bit. We’ll both have to lie a bit. But it will be perfectly legitimate, and…” she trailed off. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. If you don’t want me to keep trying that’s all right, I’ll stop, I won’t say another word about it to Father”“
“Cedrella,” Septimus said, finding his voice, “Are you saying that after all this time hiding, you’re going to tell you’re father about me and you think he’ll let you marry me?”
“I suppose yes, in a way”I’m giving him a much altered version, of course, and I’m going to have to lie a lot, about you and how I know you and why it’s a good idea for us to be together, but yes, he might. Of course he might not. He might just get really angry with me and, well… But I want to try, I promised you I would and it’s the only way I can think of to make this work.”
Septimus stared at her and ran a hand through his hair. “Let me get one thing straight?”
“Of course.”
“You want to marry me.”
“Well I”I don’t really want to marry anyone, right now, but I have to, and if I had the choice you’re the only person I would ever want to be with.” She bit her lip, looking into Septimus’ shocked face. This was exactly what she had been afraid of. “But if you don’t want me to do it I won’t,” she said again. “This would mean…a lot of responsibilities for you, Sep. We’d have to go to functions. Put up a respectable face. Have my parents over for dinner once in a while. I know it wouldn’t be easy for you and I know it’s a lot to ask”“
“Drell,” he interrupted, “stop talking.” And then he took her face between his hands and pulled her close to him and kissed her mouth, with a ferocity and a determination that made her gasp.
“Sep!” she said, when she could catch her breath. “You have to consider this seriously, it’s asking a lot of you and I know it’s a bit bold of me, but”“
“I don’t care,” Septimus said, and his eyes sparkled. “I don’t care if we have to go to hundreds of those stupid Pureblood parties, Drell, I would do it for you, and we can come home and laugh about it afterwards, and make fun of all the Selwyns, and… and you’ll meet my family and we can go to Tinsworth for Sunday lunch and we’ll have owls, all kinds, and horses, too, and”you really think this is will work?”
Cedrella could not help but beam at his enthusiasm, nor did she have the heart to tell him not to get ahead of himself. “I can’t promise that it will,” she said.
“But you think it will?”
“Yes,” she said. “I could be woefully wrong about this…but I think so.”
Septimus picked up her hand and held it on his lap. “We’ll have a stable,” he continued, and though he was looking at her, Cedrella knew he was seeing something far away, something she couldn’t even imagine. “Just a small one. Three, maybe four horses, just enough to pull a carriage. I can teach you how to care for them, and ride them…”
“And I’ll teach you how to dance,” Cedrella said, picking up the narrative, a future she had hardly dared imagine spreading out in her mind’s eye. “I’ll teach you the waltz and the swing, and how to bow, and exactly how to deal with Father and Mother, so well that we’ll fool everyone into thinking you’re a gentleman!”
Septimus laughed. “Quint and Tusy will make fun of me into the next century. Rudy, too, except he’ll also think it’s hilarious. And Demetri is just going to ask me all kinds of questions and have me observing the Purebloods like they’re some kind of alternate species.”
Cedrella laughed too. “Just wait till you see what you’ll have to wear! And how we’ll have to decorate the house to please Mother and Father when we have to invite them for tea. You’ll never hear the end of it!”
“We’ll have to have a second dining room to use when it’s just us,” Septimus said, grinning. “Or a whole second house”we could get a cottage in the country, somewhere that your family will never know about, where we can go and look and act as improperly as we want”you can wear pants and Muggle clothes and we’ll eat sitting on the floor and never mop, and”“
“And let the owls fly all through the house, and have china that doesn’t match, and never cut the grass!” Cedrella added, their impossible little fantasy dancing before her eyes.
“As messy as you want,” Septimus agreed, grinning. He knew she was a neat freak.
“Naturally,” Cedrella laughed. She laid her head against his shoulder, impossibly happy. This night, their last night together at Hogwarts in the place that had brought them together, should have been sadder, she thought. But it wasn’t. Bittersweet, perhaps, but the hope that was ballooning out in her chest outweighed any negative feelings. Maybe it was wrong to be so hopeful, but Cedrella found that she couldn’t help herself. Everything about Septimus felt somehow meant to be, even though less than a year ago she would have said she didn’t believe in such nonsense. But why else had she extended a hand to him that night they first met? Why else did he, so vastly different from her, understand parts of her she had never known existed? Why else could she be happier now than she had ever been, even when everything about the situation was wrong? Septimus had instilled a new optimism in her that had no patience with the old, cynical side of her. I’m still realistic, she thought. I’m still sensible, most of the time. I can still be a good Black to the world. But… “I’m braver now,” she said aloud.
“I’d love to think my Gryffindor influence had something to do with that,” Septimus said.
“I know it did,” she replied.
“Nah,” he said. “I’m betting you had it in you all along.”
She twisted around to meet his eyes. “That’s an awfully nice thing to say.”
He kissed her. “It’s true.”
“I don’t know about that. How come you’re so sure?”
“Because…” he traced a finger across her face. “Not to sound too deep or sensitive or anything, but because you’re so much more than you think you are. It seems sometimes like you put the fact that you’re a Black before the fact that you’re you, and you don’t realize”you can’t see”that you’re worth more on your own than all of you put together. You’re Drell. And you’re smart, and clever, and funny, and interesting, and yeah, brave, and all of that is yours, alone. It doesn’t have anything to do with you being a Black. It has to do with you. You being worth something as an individual, not a”marriage pawn.”
“I don’t know, Sep, that sounded pretty deep and sensitive to me,” Cedrella murmured, trying to hide the fact that there were inexplicable tears glazing her eyes.
“Darn,” he said, and she smiled, one of the tears escaping the corner of her eye. He caught it with his finger. “Are you crying?”
“Maybe,” she said, more tears leaking out. Then she laughed. “Yes. Happy tears, I think”I’ve read about those. I never believed it.”
“Believe it,” Septimus said, brushing away more tears and grinning.
“Oh, I do,” she said, sniffing and smiling all at once. “I love you.” She did. Unquestionably.
Septimus’ smiled widened, and he once again looked like a child who had won his favorite game. “I love you too.”
Cedrella wondered then for the millionth time how this had happened, how the redheaded person sitting beside her had changed her life so profoundly in just eight months. She smiled.
“Oh, come on,” Septimus said.
“What?”
“Kiss me, you ridiculous”“
“Watch who you’re calling ridiculous,” she teased.
“”ly beautiful girl,” he finished with a flourish.
“Nice save.”
“If I said I was planning to say it all along, will you get on with it and kiss me?”
Cedrella smiled and, slowly, leaned in and pressed her lips across his.
**
Hours later, lying in Septimus’ arms on the surprisingly comfortable straw, Cedrella looked up at the little swatch of sky that was visible though the window of the Owlery. “When I miss you this summer,” she said softly, “I’ll find Sagittarius in the stars, and hopefully you’ll know I’m thinking of you.”
“I’ll find him too,” Septimus said. “Good old Dad. He’ll always connect us, I guess.”
“I guess so,” Cedrella agreed, knowing he was referencing the first time they had met, the day of Sagittus Weasley’s death. “And Mathias of course,” she added, registering a sleepy hoot from somewhere above them.
“Of course,” Septimus agreed. “We’ll write lots of letters, just like old times.”
“You might get some odd letters from my Father or I, if everything goes according to plan. Just a warning.”
“Consider me warned,” he said, and she knew he was smiling. “I’ll look forward to it.”
They lay in silence for a while longer, Septimus playing with her loose hair and she tracing circles on his bare shoulder, marveling once again at the twists of fate that had brought her to this time and place.
“It’s time to go, isn’t it?” Septimus said after a while.
“Yes,” she said, regretfully. “It must be nearly dawn.”
He sat up, pulling her with him. “I’ll write every day,” he promised. “And next year I’ll visit you every Hogsmeade weekend, and other times besides”we can go flying. You better practice over the holidays, all right?”
“I’ll try to fit it in,” she smiled. They looked at one another. A small part of Cedrella was painfully aware that if she failed, they may never have another night like this together. She pushed it out of her mind.
And so she kissed him one more time, long and sweet, and put her cloak on over her nightdress, and said goodnight.
**
Cedrella did not sleep that night. For the few hours that remained before she had to close her trunk and board the Hogwarts Express, she lay on her bed with her curtains closed and her wand lit, looking over the rolls and rolls of notes on everything from Egyptian legends to owl husbandry to Flint family heritage, the product of a year of research. She had done much more work than she needed to, she reflected. But she didn’t mind. It was actually rather fascinating to look back at her notes from, say November (they were scant, as she had spent most of that month writing much-labored over letters to Septimus), or from January, when she had been invigorated by the new information in Demetrius’ letter and had eagerly dove into both old legends from around the world and dozens of old geneaologies. She sorted the notes by month and by subject, piling all of Pepper’s anecdotes, some of her most recent “research,” on top of the bundle, and tied it up with one of her detested monogrammed hair ribbons. I should compile it all, she thought, glancing at Demetrius Weasley’s books (which she had refused to give back to Septimus, much to his amusement) that were piled on her nightstand. Maybe I could even write a book. That will be something to do this summer. And so with this comforting thought, she pulled aside her hangings to greet the day.
Ignoring Eleanor, Veronica, and Bettina, who were clattering around drowsily doing last minute packing, Cedrella dressed in Slytherin robes, drawing on her last chance to avoid the tighter and uncomfortable silks and satins and organza’s she would have to don back in London. She packed her last few belongings, including her notes and Demetirus’ books, into her already neatly organized trunk, did her hair (which took a bit longer than usual, as it was rather messy from being down all night in the Owlery) and left the dormitory without a backward glance, determined not to feel sad about leaving. I’ll be back in three months, she told herself firmly. Summer will fly by.
Then it was a last breakfast in the Great Hall, and before she knew it Cedrella joined the stream of students queuing up for the carriages. She spotted Septimus from a distance, laughing with a few other members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. He was wearing Muggle clothes and open brown robes, and the bright sunlight made his hair look even more flaming red than usual. She wondered, as she climbed into a carriage with a few other Slytherins and watched the castle grow slowly smaller as they trundled out of the gates, how Septimus was feeling knowing that this was the last time he would see the school as a student. She was looking ahead to this time, next year, with considerable dread (though her hopes about a future with Septimus had softened it a bit). But the school didn’t hold the same significance for him. She knew he loved Hogwarts, but his home was in Tinsworth, where he would be reunited with his brothers and ride winged horses and his mother would make truffles and apple pie. He was going home and she was leaving it.
Cedrella found an empty compartment at the front of the train, stored her trunk, and lay down across the seat. It would not do to face her father exhausted, and the familiar sound and motion of the train was lulling. She did not entertain thoughts of meeting Septimus as she had at Christmas, for she wanted their goodbye to remain what it had been”dark and sweet and personal. And so she closed her eyes and was asleep within moments.
Soldiers by dominiqueweasley
Chapter Notes: Cedrella faces difficult decisions as the end of the term draws nearer and nearer.