Yes, I made the choice,
I will stay
But I don't deserve to lose my freedom in this way,
You monster!
If you think that what you've done is right, well then
You're a fool!
Think again!
Is this home
Is this what I must learn to believe in
Try to find
Something good in this tragic place
Just in case
I should stay here forever
Held in this empty place
Oh, that won't be easy
I know the reason why
My heart's far, far away
Home's a lie.
What I'd give to return
To the life that I knew lately
But I know now I can't
Solve my problems going back...
Is this home?
Am I here for a day or forever?
Shut away
From the world until who knows when
Oh, but then
As my life has been altered once
It can change again
Build higher walls around me
Change ev'ry lock and key
Nothing lasts, nothing holds
All of me.
-Beauty and the Beast
“Cedrella!” Someone was rapping sharply on her door.
“Yes?”
“Get downstairs this instant, the seamstress is here!”
“Charis is going first.”
Cedrella could just imagine her mother, standing right outside her door, seething with frustration, trying to keep herself from yelling. “I expect you in the drawing room in two minutes,” she snapped, and Cedrella heard her high-heeling boots turning around and stalking down the stairs.
Cedrella sighed, sitting up slowly and regretfully and marking her place in her book. It was perhaps two weeks after the incident with her father”she was too miserable to keep actual track. The various potions and creams administered by her sisters had done the trick, of course, and the wounds on her face and neck had faded to almost nothing in a few days time. All that remained now were a few thin, raised lines, puffier than the old scars and still tender if she pressed on them. Callidora had given her more anti-scarring slave and insisted that she keep applying it twice a day, but Cedrella hadn’t been particularly diligent. She didn’t want to do anything these days”even dabbing on more evil-smelling green ointment felt like too much effort. Except for meals, she lay on her bed day in and day out, reading or simply staring at the ceiling, trying to keep her mind as blank as possible. Charis slipped in and out at least once a day, usually trying to engage Cedrella in conversation about one of three things: Lucifer, upcoming parties, or Caspar Crouch. Cedrella let her sister talk, allowing the inane chatter to wash over her and pretending that this was the same old Charis and nothing had changed. She gave advice if asked for it and had consented to discuss the Solstice Ball with her sister a few times, but there was nothing she wanted to do less than talk about Caspar Crouch, her”she could hardly stand to think the word”new fiancé.
Which was why today’s activates were particularly loathsome, because not only was she getting fitted for dress robes, but they were they dress robes she would wear on the solstice”which was the first time she would be presented as Crouch’s fiancé to the wider Pureblood community. Every time Cedrella thought about it she felt physically sick, as though someone had thrust a wrench in her stomach.
Caspar Crouch, Cedrella knew, was probably not bad as far as husbands went. She had met him a few times in the past, and he was moderately handsome, a good dancer, and quite polite. He came from an old, well-respected Ministry family, and his grandfather had been Minister of Magic. He was a Slytherin. He was only three years older than her. And he was already in charge of a team of three in the Accidental Magical Reversal Squad, just two years out of Hogwarts. But every time she reminded herself of this, and of the fact that a year ago she would have accepted such an engagement without protest, simply happy to avoid someone like Rodney, she felt ill. Sure, he was good looking enough”but it was nothing on Septimus’ flaming hair, dancing blue eyes, and mischievous, childish smile that she knew so well. Certainly, his family was well connected and well liked”but they weren’t the boisterous, loving, eccentric Weasleys that she had heard so much about. And perhaps he was polite and intelligent and held an excellent job”but she didn’t know him, not really. She didn’t know what made this man laugh, or what he was afraid of, or how to tease him until his ears turned red. She didn’t know his favorite foods or the names of his pets or his best childhood memories. She didn’t know that despite any faults, he had an immensely good heart. And she didn’t know that he loved her. Thinking about it all made Cedrella want to simultaneously scream, cry, and throw up. This is what I get for disobedience, she often told herself savagely, when it all became too much. This is what I get for trusting someone, for letting them in. But try as she might she could not make herself forget or regret Septimus. Even when she lay on her back, memorizing the flecks in the plaster above her head and trying to keep her mind as blank as possible, to shut it all out, he hovered just on the edge of her thoughts. Try as she might, she could not get a small part of her to stop hoping.
And it was that small part of her that was so dreading the Solstice Ball, when she would cement herself in the eyes of everyone she knew as the future Mrs. Crouch. There would be no going back.
**
In the drawing room, Charis was standing on a stool while the seamstress pinned and tucked the pale pink skirt of her dress robes under to the appropriate length. Lysandra Black stood off to the side, arms tightly folded and lips pursed, surveying the scene and shooting Cedrella looks like daggers as she slipped into the room and seated herself carefully on a chair in the corner to wait her turn. She knew her mother was angry because her father had insisted that Cedrella not leave the house, and so instead of making yet another trip, with great pomp and showing off of course, to Twilfit and Tattings in Diagon Alley, the seamstress had had to come to Château Noir herself. Lysandra had always loved showing off her daughters and her wealth and buying them extravagant clothes. Cedrella met her disapproving stare with a cold, steady look of her own. She could not make up her mind if she was glad or not that the fittings were taking place at home”she had a hard time feeling glad about anything lately. It would have been nice to get some fresh air, she supposed, and perhaps get a snatch of conversation with a few owls when no one was looking, but at the same time she was pleased about anything that made her mother angry.
“Cedrella, isn’t this lovely?,” asked Charis, doing a little twirl in her successfully pinned skirt. It fanned out prettily, showing off the large amount of fabric that was gathered into a slim silhouette.
“It fits you very nicely,” Cedrella said, which was true. It was beyond her why Charis had insisted on pink. Initially, she had wanted an even brighter color, but Cedrella had talked her down, insisting that neutrals and pastels were more grown up. Luckily Charis had accepted this advice without much argument, which Cedrella hoped meant that her sister had taken her outburst to heart and was still going to listen to her on important issues, as well.
“Lucifer is going to love it,” Charis said happily, smoothing the silky cloth.
Cedrella highly doubted that”if Lucifer was anything like Septimus, he wasn’t going to notice the dress much at all. But once more she held her tongue. It really wasn’t like her, all these negative things springing to her mind. Charis was happy, and she was getting engaged to the boy she wanted”and Cedrella did not want to begrudge her sister that. Ten minutes later Charis stepped off the stool, beaming, and the seamstress beckoned Cedrella forward.
It took an inordinately long amount of time, Cedrella thought, to fit the already elaborate dress. Like her sister’s, it had a slim, gathered skirt, an empire waist, and a high neckline, embellished with a great deal of fancy stitches and lace and trim and pearl buttons. Cedrella held as still as possible and thought wistfully of her comfortable, functional Hogwarts robes. Two and a half months, she thought. But even the idea of returning to Hogwarts had lost some of its joy.
**
Cedrella knew Septimus was trying to get in contact with her. She knew he must be worried and frustrated and unable to understand why Mathias and Cleo kept coming back from London empty handed, for as fond of the owls as he was he still could not communicate with them the way she did, and could not hear the news that she was shut inside her house with her windows locked and charmed to be impenetrable, so no mail could be delivered. A few times she had seen the owls herself, flying several feet outside her windows, unable to get through.
She hated feeling so helpless. She hated that Septimus didn’t know what had happened and that he was probably still hoping she was going to owl him good news about their engagement any day now. But while half of her was constantly thinking of how to communicate with him, how to explain it to him, and what was going to happen when they saw one another again, the other half almost appreciated, in a strange way, that she was so cut off. Because she knew that Septimus wasn’t going to understand. If she had gotten her own hopes up, she had raised his to dangerous heights. And he would think that her marrying Crouch after all was simply giving up. Perhaps he’ll just give up on me, she thought despondently. But this was a vain hope”it was going to take a lot, she knew, for Septimus to let this go. And Cedrella didn’t want to deal with it. And yet she couldn’t forget, couldn’t stop thinking about how much she missed him and missed their conversations and kisses and adventures. She missed laughing and she missed owls and she missed talking to someone who really knew her. She often thought back to that last night in the Owlery when Septimus had made his little speech about her being worth something, as a person rather than a Black, and to her horror it usually made her eyes burn with tears. That was what she missed, more than anything else”feeling valued, for who and everything she was. Feeling appreciated. Feeling loved.
At these times Cedrella usually tried to remind herself that Charis and Callidora loved her, too. She wasn’t completely alone. But it wasn’t the same, and she knew it.
Three uneventful days after the robes fitting, days that she spent trying and failing not to think about Septimus, Cedrella couldn’t stand it any longer. And so she took out parchment and quill and wrote him a letter, and when she was done she folded it up into a tight scroll and tucked it into the inside pocket of her robes. I’ll get it to you, she promised herself. One way or another.
June 27, 1934
Dearest Sep,
I know you are probably frightfully angry with me right now, but please read this letter through and hear me out. I have so much to tell you. I’m sorry I haven’t managed to get this to you before now.
I told you I thought I could convince Father, but I was wrong. The day after I mailed my last letter, I was summoned to his study to learn that none other than Charis (acting on information from Rodney Selwyn of all people, who apparently saw us in the library) had gone to him and informed him that I have been “associating inappropriately” with a Weasley.
You can probably guess what happened after that. Father flew into a rage”perhaps the worst I’ve seen”and I was confined to bed for two days afterwards. He has also grounded me for the entire summer and locked and charmed my windows, so that I cannot receive any mail. I’ve seen Mathias and Cleo circling outside so many nights in the past weeks, but they cannot get close enough for me to communicate with them”and of course I cannot undo the charms without going outside, which I’m forbidden to do. Father would make an excellent prison guard, I think. But you would be proud of me”I didn’t take it all lying down. I was thinking of you when I called him a “disgraceful, loveless bastard” before leaving the room. (Naturally, that probably didn’t help matters, but it felt good to finally say it out loud). And the final blow was that he’s absolutely determined to keep me from you”so determined, in fact, that he’s betrothed me to Caspar Crouch. The wedding is set for next summer. I don’t know if you remember Caspar, he was a Slytherin who would have been in your brother Rudy’s year. As far as I know he is a fairly polite, upright person, and he works in the Accidental Magical Reversal Squad, but that’s all I really know about him. After the Solstice Ball, which is when Father is announcing both my and Charis’ engagements, I have been “graciously invited” to stay with the Crouches for a week to get to know the family and Caspar better. Of course I don’t really have a choice in going. Hopefully the Crouches will at least let me go outdoors, and perhaps they will have an owl that I can talk to a bit. That would brighten my summer a great deal. Other than that I expect it will just be more socializing with stiff, upright purebloods”and ones I don’t even care about, which makes it all the worse.
I know what you are thinking, Septimus. I can see your ears reddening with frustration and your bright eyes flashing with anger at Father for doing this to me. I can hear your voice as though you are right beside me, crying “Drell, that’s just wrong! You can’t let him dictate your life like this! It’s cruel! It should be your choice, you always have a choice!” Now imagine me, dear Sep, putting a hand on your shoulder and pushing you gently back into your seat. I know I’ve told you this over and over, but you just don’t understand, and I know that you probably never truly will be able to. But to my family, blood and loyalty are everything. I can’t simply refuse to marry Crouch, for doing so would be enough to have me disowned for good, and shame the family forever. Now, it is true that I don’t believe you have to be a Slytherin to be a good person. It’s true I don’t believe that blood is everything anymore”I think the world is a far more complicated place than Pureblood ideology can possibly express. And I may like to read books and talk to owls and explore the outdoors more than I will ever enjoy anything about this life. And I may have found the best friend I have ever, or will ever, have in you, a blood traitor according to my parents. I’m different, and I know that. But in the end it doesn’t matter”I am a Black, and I’m not a Gryffindor like you, Sep. I’m not brave enough to leave behind everything I’ve ever known and everything that my life has been about for sixteen years.
I’ve thought so many times that had this happened last year, before I knew you, I may not have been happy but I certainly wouldn’t have questioned it. Now it is immeasurably harder to accept my fate. Now, I know that there is a person out there who cares for me”not for my blood or my family but for me, Cedrella, as a person. I know now that I can be respected, that I can be interesting, and I know I can feel cared for and almost free in a way I never thought possible. And so now, I honestly feel like my heart is being torn in two. Most of me knows that I will never be able to go back, but still every day I think about you, and wish I could return to those nights in the Owlery. I miss you, Septimus, more than I ever could have imagined that I would. And that is why I’ve managed to go against not only my father’s wishes but my own determination that I must forget everything that happened and sent this to you. Because I cannot forget. I know that I will never forget the freedom you gave me or the way you taught me to laugh or the strange touch of your hands.
I am not asking for your advice”I know what you are going to say. I have a terrible loss ahead of me, whichever way I turn, and I am trying to do what’s best. But I had to tell you, because I couldn’t stand leaving you in the dark thinking that I didn’t care. You must be angry and confused and you might even hate me. I’m so sorry. But whatever you feel is all right”I don’t blame you for a thing.
Love,
Cedrella
p.s. You won’t be able to write me back until I return to Hogwarts on September 1st, but it would mean the world to me to hear from you then, whatever it is you have to say to me now.
**
The morning of the Solstice Ball, Cedrella woke up to the sound of torrential rain. She got out of bed and pulled back the curtains to reveal a dismal scene”the London street was slick and wet, with water running in rivulets through the gutters and leaves and sticks scattered everywhere, ripped from the trees that were still being whipped in all directions by the merciless wind. The rain lashed directly at her window, making it difficult to see much more, but Cedrella could tell that despite it being nearly ten in the morning, the stormy sky was as dark was dusk.
Cedrella put on her dressing gown and pulled her vanity stool up to the window to watch the storm while she combed her hair. This sort of weather was rare for July, but not unheard of. She thought back on past summers as she brushed each wave, remembering with a wry half-smile the time when a sudden downpour had wrecked havoc on an outdoor party at the Notts’. The disaster was much funnier now than it had been when she was fourteen, and Cedrella made a mental note to tell Septimus about it sometime before she remembered that the time for trading silly anecdotes with her best friend was probably gone forever. At least Mathias and Cleo didn’t get caught in this storm trying to deliver a letter, she thought despondently, as a particularly strong blast of wind tore another branch off the nearest tree and thunder rumbled in the distance. A woman in a long black coat started running at the sound of it, the wind tossing her coat and umbrella wildly, and a moment later she was out sight. Cedrella sighed. She would have given anything be outside of the house, even in this mess. Or more accurately, to be outside of somewhere that wasn’t filled to the brim with ridiculous purebloods like her father and the Crouches. (Cedrella did not actually know if the Crouches were “ridiculous purebloods’ in the same sense that her father was, but she was in too foul of a mood to care if she was being fair and open-minded or not).
She sat at the window for over an hour, combing and combing her hair and listening as the thunder grew louder and louder. Oddly, there was something almost calming about the storm”as if the rest of the world was sympathizing with her anger, frustration, and grief. And it gave her a grim sort of pleasure to know how upset her mother and her sisters would be about the rain ruining what should have been a day to celebrate summer. They would think it would reflect badly on the party they were hosting that despite the title of Solstice Ball, it could have been November outside.
Predictably, a loud knock on the door announced Charis’ arrival only a few minutes later. “Come in,” Cedrella called, and the door swung open to reveal her sister, also in a dressing gown, with her hair pinned up sloppily and a greenish-brown mask on her face.
“I cannot believe it’s raining like this today,” Charis announced, crossing her arms across her chest.
“Stop pouting,” Cedrella said.
Charis scowled and dropped her arms to her sides. “Better?”
“I suppose.”
Charis closed the door behind her and perched on Cedrella’s bed, crossing her legs. “It’s going to ruin the entire night,” she said.
“The rain? No it won’t, Charis, stop being so dramatic. Everyone will fit perfectly in the foyer and the ballroom; there’s no need for the garden. And since we’re hosting we don’t even have to go outside and get wet”we’ll just look at the better because we’ll be the only ones who aren’t a tiny bit bedraggled from the trip.” She stood up from the window and checked her hair in the mirror, turning her back to Charis.
“Well I suppose that’s true,” Charis admitted, “but it’s awfully dreary, don’t you think? My gown is pink, for goodness’ sake, and it’s supposed to be the longest and sunniest day of the year. It’s going to be awful for the mood, and the light will be all wrong, and”“
“It’s extraordinary to me that you still find things to complain about,” Cedrella snapped, losing her patience with her sister’s chatter.
“Well just because you’re so clever and sarcastic now doesn’t mean you have to be so mean. Besides, this isn’t just a bit of rain, it’s a big deal, and”“ she stopped talking at the sight of Cedrella’s expression in the mirror.
“Thank you,” Cedrella said. “Seriously, Charis, do you want to know what is a big deal? It’s a big deal that we’re both getting officially engaged today. And it’s a big deal that I’m a prisoner in my own room.”
“Caspar isn’t going to like you if you’re so doom and gloom all the time.”
“Why should that matter? He has to marry me anyway.” She brushed down a stray strand of hair.
“So you’re just going to be bitter and awful to him, too? What good is that going to do? Father won’t like it, he might”“
“There ‘s nothing else Father can do to me,” Cedrella said, and for a moment her eyes in the mirror looked as hollow as she felt. She forced calm back onto her face. “Nothing.”
Charis hesitated, looking like she wanted to say something more. But then she stood up with a shrug. “Fine, Cedrella. Enjoy being miserable.” She stalked to the door, hesitated again, and turned around. “Will you still do my hair for tonight?”
Cedrella sighed. “Yes.” She couldn’t bring herself to say anything more, though part of her hated that she was pushing away the only person she had to talk to. But she couldn’t help herself.
Charis nodded and closed the door with a snap that could barely be heard over the pounding of the rain.
**
The storm continued all day, while Cedrella ate lunch, tried to read, took a bath upon her mother’s orders, tried not to think about Septimus, and dressed her sister’s hair. The howling wind persisted after Callidora arrived with Harfang for dinner, tossing the trees outside her window this way and that as Callidora pinned up Cedrella’s own hair, laced her into her dress robes, and helped her powder her face to hide any evidence of the scars. It was still pouring when the Crouches and the Malfoys arrived, half an hour before all the other guests, and gave their wet cloaks to the house elves and accepted fine wine to drink and made small talk with Cedrella’s parents, while Charis and Lucifer talked animatedly and Cedrella stood avoiding the scrutinizing gaze of Caspar Crouch that she could feel burning into her. And thunder could still be heard as the four of them waited at the top of the staircase, listening to the guests arriving and the tinkled of glasses. Standing there, Cedrella tried to focus on the sound of the rumbling thunder rather than the false, unctuous voices of the guests, her father’s audible over them all, or the sick knot in her stomach at what was about to happen. But try as she might she could still hear her father’s voice as he called for silence and told all of Pureblood society who was assembled there that he had an important and joyous announcement to make. It was his great pride and honor, he said, to introduce his daughters, Cedrella and Charis Black, for the first time as the future Mrs. Caspar Crouch and Mrs. Lucifer Malfoy. And Caspar had his hand on her arm and he was leading her down the steps and into the bright, bright light of the chandelier and its many candles. Cedrella thought her heart might tear itself from her chest it was beating so hard, and with such desperation, telling her to run, run, run.
She floated down the staircase, smiling like a perfect, porcelain doll, and thunder crashed again in the distance.
**
“Now, Cedrella, tell us about your final year at Hogwarts. What are you planning to study? I hear you receive very high marks.”
“I plan to take eight N.E.W.T tests,” Cedrella said after she had taken a moment to rouse herself from contemplation and realize that Lyra Crouch was speaking to her. “Transfiguration, Potions, Herbology, Charms, Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, Astronomy, and History of Magic.”
“Eight! My goodness, dear, that’s quite impressive. Caspar here only took six… though he received top marks on all of them, of course. Why, Bartimeus, do you remember when…”
Cedrella tuned the conversation out once more, returning to her lunch and her thoughts. It was several days after the Ball, and she was spending the week at the Crouches upon her father’s insistence. They were hospitable enough, but rather than letting her be they tried to engage her in conversation and activity at every opportunity. She was constantly questioned, talked at, implored to play a round of gobstones or come to tea or some other inane an supposedly “pleasant” activity that required Cedrella’s energy and concentration. Caspar and his father worked every weekday at the Ministry, while the youngest member of the family, Caspar’s thirteen-year-old cousin Barty, went to a tutor. This meant that Cedrella spent most of her time with Mrs. Crouch. She was pleasant in her own way, Cedrella supposed, and she was certainly more tolerable than Cedrella’s own mother. But it was the same, always”clever gossip and endless chatter about clothes and parties and egotistical discussions of how wonderful and talented and accomplished everyone in her family was. All Cedrella wanted was peace and quiet and a good book that would let her forget for a little while that Caspar was not Septimus, that the Crouches were not the Weaselys.
“Dear?”
Cedrella raised her eyes once more, realizing she was being spoken to. “Yes, Mrs. Crouch? I’m sorry, I was distracted.”
The older woman smiled. “I was saying that I think today is the perfect day for you and Caspar to spend a bit more time together, as he doesn’t have to go into work. I need a few things from Diagon Alley, and the sun has finally come out again”what do the two of you think of getting a bit of fresh air?” she looked from Cedrella to her son.
Caspar nodded politely. “Of course, Mother,” he said. “What do you think, Cedrella?”
“I”I would like that very much,” Cedrella said, keeping her voice calm to hide the happiness that was rushing through her. Her father must not have told the Crouches that she was grounded! There would be fresh air! Owls! And…she touched to pocket where she always kept her letter to Septimus. Perhaps she could find a way to send it. She would only have to slip away from Caspar for a few minutes…
Lyra Crouch beamed. “Lovely, it’s settled then. Cedrella, dear, I’ll send Bryony up to help you dress and you can leave in an hour or so!”
**
And so it was that Cedrella found herself stepping out of the Leaky Cauldron and into bustling, sunny Diagon Alley. There were so many people, so many sights and smells, and everywhere there were owls, flying from shop to shop, criss-crossing the narrow street. Cedrella found herself smiling for the first time in days, almost able to forget that she was arm in arm with Caspar Crouch and that she wore a high-collared, uncomfortable summer dress that her mother had had made for her before her visit to the Crouches, and even that this was her first outing as a fiancée, as a woman rather than a girl.
Where are you going?
Bristol. You?
It’s a mouse!
This way, someone’s passing out food down the street!
That’s no way to deliver a letter! Watch and learn….
They were only snippets, but the bits of conversation she could hear from the owls as they flew overhead warmed her heart more than ever nonetheless. She wanted to call back to them, but she held back, conscious of Caspar at her elbow.
“Would you like to get a bite to eat before we do Mother’s errands?” he asked her.
“All right,” she agreed. “But let’s find somewhere outside to sit, please. It’s such a lovely day.”
“As you wish,” Caspar said. “Will Fortescue’s do?”
“That will be lovely.”
The stopped talking and headed towards the café, a certain awkwardness hanging between them. Cedrella knew Caspar was probably wondering why she had decided to break her silent streak and speak cordially to him. They had hardly spoken before, mostly because Cedrella had negated any attempts at conversation. She simply didn’t care what Caspar had to say, and anyway she had her whole life to get to know him, if they were really going to be married. It simply didn’t matter what they talked about, or where they went, or if they talked at all. In fact, not much mattered to Cedrella anymore”except mailing her letter, which was why she wanted to sit outside and make Caspar think she was having a pleasant time so that he would let her disappear for a moment to find a willing owl…
They found a table in the sun and ordered a plate of small sandwiches and a pair of iced teas from a flustered waiter. Cedrella sipped hers carefully, relishing the simple pleasure of the sun on her face and the movement of the air, gazing over her companion’s shoulder at the shoppers bustling by.
“The Minister is giving a speech in two weeks that will be followed by a reception,” Caspar was saying. “As a head of department my father must attend, and I would appreciate it greatly if you accompanied me, as well. What do you think?”
“I…” Cedrella saw no point in arguing about it. “Very well. What is it that you do in the Ministry, anyway, Caspar?”
“I’m in charge of a team on the Accidental Magical Reversal Squad,” he said. “It’s a division of the Department of Magical Ca”“
“I know that,” Cedrella interrupted.
He looked slightly surprised. “Right. Well, I’m in charge of my team, and we get sent out on various assignments to protect the International Statute of Secrecy and clean up any magical accidents”anything from fixing a splinching or performing an Obliviation to removing dangerous magical debris before it harms anyone, and any number of things. It’s a very important and hands-on job that requires a lot of quick thinking and knowledge of all matters of Charms, Transfigurations, and Potions that might have gone wrong. Squad members know more counter-charms and jinxes and than anyone else, and often we have to come up with them on the spot, which is why I was made head of my team. I have an excellent working knowledge of Latin, Greek, and spell theory…”
Cedrella was looking at Caspar’s straight, square face, framed by it’s neatly cut brown hair and a starched collar on his robes, but she wasn’t seeing it. He was speaking, but she wasn’t really hearing him…in her mind’s eye she saw red hair, a round face, a rumpled school uniform, and imagined his smile as he discussed the finer points of Quidditch… Suddenly, she started, nearly spilling her tea. Was it just because she was thinking about Septimus, or was that”she leaned sideways in her seat, and she saw it again, moving down the street: a head of telltale, violently red hair. She had not imagined it. As she watched, pulse racing, the figure turned into the bookstore and vanished.
“I’m quite full, aren’t you?” she said, interrupting Caspar, who was still talking about something or other. “I think we should get a start on your mother’s errands.”
He glanced down at his barely eaten sandwich. “Well, all she wanted us to do is pick something up from Madam Malkin’s, and get a few things from the Apothecary”“
“Splendid,” Cedrella said, standing up at once. She couldn’t let that head of red hair get any farther away. “Let’s be on our way.”
Caspar got up too, rather reluctantly. “Very well. We’ll have to walk to Gringotts first to get some gold out of the vault, and then we can go to Madam Malkin’s on the way back. Is there anywhere else you would like to go, while we are here?”
“Well yes, I was actually hoping to stop in Flourish and Blotts,” Cedrella said, “but I wouldn’t want to bore you. Listen, Caspar,” she said, feigning a sudden inspiration, “the bookstore is right there down the street. And those Gringotts carts make me awfully queasy… I’ll go take a quick peek at the books and meet you back here when you’ve gotten the gold.”
“Books would not bore me, Cedrella. You forget who you are talking to. Everyone in my family is a great reader.”
“I’m glad,” she said. “But really, I’d rather not go to Gringotts. The carts are simply frightful. Meet me at the bookstore and we can spend as much time there as you’d like. I certainly don’t mind staying there longer.”
“Very well,” Caspar agreed. He placed a few galleons on the table to pay for their meal and picked up his hat. “I’ll be as quick as I can.”
Cedrella offered him a small smile. “See you in a few minutes then.” She watched until he had rounded the corner and then turned and broke into a jog, rushing down the crowded alley to Flourish and Blotts. She nearly tripped over a stooped old woman who was exiting the shop, but slipped around her and plunged into the dim, hardwood room, staring around. She didn’t see him immediately, and so she hurried in between the shelves, past displays of books she usually would have spent hours examining, until she saw someone standing, his back to her, in the “Travel” section, a cloak thrown over one arm to reveal his Muggle clothing. Cedrella hesitated for only a moment before stepping forward and touching his elbow. He turned, looking at her with a mixture of confusion and surprise on his face. Cedrella’s hear simultaneously plummeted and leapt”this was not Septimus, as she had hoped, but his brother Demetrius, the one she had always wanted to meet the most.
“Do I know you?” he asked.
“No,” Cedrella said, “but believe I know who you are. Demetrius Weasley?”
“Yes,” he affirmed, looking at her curiously.
Cedrella took a deep breath, steeling herself. “My name is Cedrella Black,” she said. “I don’t know if that means anything to you but”it would mean a lot to me if you would tell your brother Septimus that you saw me here and if you would give him this.” She pressed the tightly rolled scroll of the letter into his hand. “It’s a letter,” she said. “Explaining things. He’ll know what it means. Please.”
Demetrius had a strange expression on her face. “Are you…the girl? That’s what we all assumed, anyway, that there was a girl… Rudy knows, of course, but he’s not telling.”
“Yes, I’m the girl,” Cedrella said. She saw no point in denying it, even though she didn’t know exactly what he was talking about. She was, undoubtedly, Septimus’ girl. Or she had been.
“You better have a very good reason for everything you’ve put him through this summer,” Demetrius Weasley said, pocketing the letter.
“I do,” Cedrella said. “I promise.” She hesitated, not wanting this conversation to be over. Demetrius had just nodded and begun to turn away when she said “How is he? Is he all right?”
“He’s not himself, certainly, and he hasn’t been for weeks. But yes, he’s all right. My wife Vivery and I are taking him to Africa with us for a few weeks, because our Mum reckons he needs to get away from it all.”
“I’m sure he’ll love that,” Cedrella said quietly. “He always spoke so highly of you and your adventures. He gave me your books to read too, by the way. They’re wonderful. Really wonderful.” She wanted to say more, so much more. But her throat had constricted with threatening tears.
“Well, thank you. Very much. That’s why I’m here, actually, to disucss my books. I’m trying to get the manager to move them from the “Travel” section and into the “Interesting Magic” section. Or at least to keep copies in both. Nobody reads the travel section, you see, and certainly not most of the people who would benefit from reading my books.”
“Like who?”
“Like narrow-minded Ministry officials who need to have their eyes opened about the fact that some of the most powerful and beautiful forms of magic are things they call primitive or even illegal,” Demetrius said, and Cedrella’s lips twitched into a faint smile, thinking of Caspar.
“Very true,” she said. “I hope you succeed.”
“Thank you,” he said. “Listen”Cedrella, did you say? I have a half an hour before my meeting, would you like to come eat a late lunch with me? I’m sure Septimus would be happy to hear more about what you’ve been up to this summer.”
“I”“ she desperately wanted to say yes. She wanted to hear more about his books and ask him about the owls more and trade stories about Septimus and all the other Weasleys, the things that she had so missed all this long summer. She wanted to feel like herself again. But Caspar was going to be back in a matter of minutes, and if she disappeared like that… “I’m sorry, I can’t,” she said. “I’d love to, though. I really would.”
“You’re not going to explain anything to me, are you, you little enigma?”
“I can’t,” Cedrella repeated again, her throat tight once more. It was not lost on her that he had called her an enigma, just like his younger brother had so many months ago. “I can’t. I’m sorry. Tell Septimus I’m so sorry. Thank you, Demetrius.”
He clapped her on the shoulder. “Good luck, Cedrella.”
She nodded and turned away, hurrying across the store to the Transfiguration section, swiping angrily at her eyes and wishing fervently that everything would simply disappear. She couldn’t look at him anymore, standing alone across the store. She hid her face behind a gilded red book, trying not to cry, blue eyes and red hair burned into her eyelids.
Caspar found her there, surrounded by stacks of books. “Are you purchasing any of these, Cedrella? I ran into Octavian Robards at Gringotts and he wants me to come to the office tonight, so we had best go to Malkin’s and then go home.” When she did not move, he plucked the book from her hands and pulled her to her feet. “We’re going home,” he repeated.
Home, Cedrella thought furiously, as she allowed herself to be led out of the shop. Is that what home is now, then? Is that what he thinks?
“It was nice to get to know you a bit better today, Cedrella,” Caspar was saying mildly. “The Ministry event will be splendid, all the top officials and people of note will be there…”
You don’t know me, she thought. You never will. You power hungry, insensitive prick.
Cedrella made a decision, as she and Caspar prepared to Floo back to his parents’ house: the Crouches was never going to be home. Because she may have lost her chance to be with Septimus, but she wasn’t going to lose her heart. She had to hold on to the only thing she had left: herself.
Soldiers by dominiqueweasley
Chapter Notes: Cedrella tries to cope, and manages to pass on a message.