I don't believe in anything but myself
I don't believe in anything but myself
But then you opened up a door
You opened up a door
Now I start to believe in something else.
But how do I know if I'll make it through?
How do I know?
Where's the proof in you?
And so it goes, this soldier knows
The battle with the heart isn't easily won.
And so it goes, this soldier knows
The battle with the heart isn't easily won
But it can be won.
I sit in the back of a bus watching the world grow old
Watching the world go by all by myself.
I took a faithful leap and packed up all my things and all my love
And gave it to somebody else.
But how do I know if I'll make it through?
How do I know?
Where's the proof in you?
And so it goes, this soldier knows
The battle with the heart isn't easily won.
And so it goes, this soldier knows
The battle with the heart isn't easily won.
But it can be won
But it can be won
But it can be won
But it can be won.
And so it goes, this soldier knows (and so it goes)
The battle with the heart isn't easily won (the war is won)
And so it goes, this soldier knows (and so it goes)
The battle with the heart isn't easily won (the war is won)
But it can be won
But it can be won.
-Ingrid Michaelson
There was air in her lungs. Air! Fresh, sweet, icy cold air. She gulped it down, desperate for oxygen.
A moment later she became aware of two more things: she was lying facedown in the snow, and there was a searing, throbbing pain in her left forearm.
Slowly, she opened her eyes and sat up, still gasping for breath. The village of Hogsmeade lay before herâ”there was Gladragâs Wizard Wear, and down the deserted street was the Three Broomsticks, itâs lanterns and steamy windows glowing cheerfully. There was snow everywhere, piled in great drifts along the sides of High Street. She tried to stand up and immediately felt dizzy and ill, the familiar village swimming dangerously. Her arm throbbed.
Gingerly, she looked down and saw that the sleeve of her cloak was soaked with dark blood. She pulled it back carefully and looked at the flesh of her forearm in horrorâ”a chunk of it was simply gone, cleanly removed, and the hole it had left behind was filled with blood.
Cedrella was not squeamish. But the sight of her mutilated arm made her feel like she might faint, vomit, or both. She quickly covered it with her sleeve again and forced herself to her feet. She needed to get herself hidden and off the street, and she needed to find a healer. That was about all her mind could comprehend at that moment.
Every step down the street was a fight to stay upright, to stay conscious, to keep the contents of her stomach down. It seemed to take years to pass the Three Broomsticks, turn the corner at Honeydukes, and make her way down a side street that, she knew, ended with a dead end and another inn, one she had never entered before.
The door to the Hogâs Head was locked, its windows dark except for a single candle that was lit on the bar, burning low, which she could barely make out through the grimy window. She raised her good arm and pounded on the door, the window, and then the door again in desperation, past caring who answered it. She had been standing there, pummeling the door with her fist, for nearly two minutes when a dark shape swooped down out of nowhere and alighted on her shoulder.
An owl.
âHelp me,â Cedrella said desperately, her voice cracking. âDo you live here? Can you get me in? Iâm lostâ”I mean, I know where I am, but I have to hide, and I need a healerâ”pleaseâ”â
The big man, the owl hooted, turning itâs head towards the castle. From the forest. He will help you.
âBigâ”do you mean Pepper?â
Stay here. The bird leapt into the air and was gone.
Cedrella had no idea if the owl had actually gone for Pepper, or how he knew they were friends, but she wasnât about to go anywhere. She didnât have anywhere to go. Iâm homeless, she thought ruefully, and for some reason the thought was hilarious to her. She sank to the ground outside the door of the pub and sat in the snow and laughed until she threw up, until she wasnât sure if she was laughing or choking or crying. And then she heard a wonderfully familiar voice.
âCEDRELLA! What the ruddy hell are you doinâ here?â
She looked up through her hazy vision and saw the dark form of Pepper running towards her, the owl flying above him like a spectral guide.
âI ran away,â she said faintly.
âYou ranâ”hang on, is thaâ BLOOD?â Before she could answer in the affirmative, Pepper had yanked her up out of the snow, supporting her against his chest, and was bellowing something in his great roar of a voice, pounding on the door of the pub just as she had done, but with about three times the volume. âOi, DUMBLEDORE! Get yerself down here and open the bloody door!â
She thought she heard footsteps, the lock turning, and then a man with a grubby red beard stood before them in a nightshirt, holidng the candle from the bar and glaring daggers at the pair of them.
âYes?â He growled.
âYouâve got a guest,â Pepper said. âThis lady would like a room.â
The innkeeper peered at them. âItâs bloody one in the morning, Goldilocks, and weâre closed. Besides, she doesnât look so good.â
âNo, she donât, which is why sheâll be needinâ a room NOW, and youâll be givinâ her one.â
âDonât you order me around.â
âDonâ think I wonât,â Pepper countered.
The redheaded man scowled. âYou got gold, missy? I wonât take her if she canât pay, Goldilocks.â
It took Cedrella a moment to realize he was talking to her, and a moment longer to realize she didnât have a single galleon on her. She opened her mouth say so when she caught sight of something on her finger, glinting in the light of the innkeeperâs candle.
She took off her engagement ring with difficulty and held it out for the man to see. âI donât have gold, but I have this. If you let me stay here for a few days and donât ask any questions, you can have it.â
The man held out his hand and she dropped the ring into it. He held it up, eyes growing wide as he recognized emeralds and diamonds, and the Crouch family crest engraved on the stone.
âThis is goblin-made?â
It was. It had been in the Crouch family for something like three centuries. She nodded, closing her eyes against another wave of nausea. She knew she was losing too much blood.
âWell for that, missy, you can have the master suite.â He chuckled harshly, pocketing the ring. âBring her on in, Goldilocks. I donât think she can make it up the stairs herself.â
**
An immeasurable amount of time later (it was daylight, that was all she could tell), Cedrella awoke to an empty room. Though she had never seen the small, shabby, slightly dirty space before, she knew immediately where she was, and felt an immense rush of relief that it had not all been a dream, that she really was hereâ”penniless, alone, and injured, but here and not back at Château Noir, preparing to marry Caspar Crouch. On her nightstand, there was an unlabeled bottle of greenish liquid, a small pile of hairpins with a lot of hair in them (it looked like someone had tried to take them out and given up) and a tray with a mug of black coffee and a plate of scrambled eggs. Though the food was stone cold, she gulped it down immediately, hungrier than she had been in a long time, eating clumsily because her left arm had been wrapped tightly in bandages and bound to her chest in a sling.
She wrapped herself in the blanket from the bed and set to work removing the rest of the hairpins, which had gotten twisted and tangled and crossed over one another over the course of the past hours. She wanted something to do with her hands, a concrete task she could manage, somewhere to start. It was too overwhelming to think about everything that had just happened all at once.
It was imperative, she decided, that she stay hidden here until a few days after the wedding was scheduled to happen. Doubtlessly, her father had people searching frantically for her right now, hoping to find her before the wedding so that they would not have to do the unthinkable and cancel it. What a scandal it was going to be, when it could be concealed and postponed no longer, and the world would find out that Cedrella Black had run out on her own wedding the day before it happened, during a party in her honor! How ashamed her family would be! How everyone would gossip! She found that she didnât care nearly as much as she thought she might have. It served her father right, for trying to make her his pawn, for getting carried away with his own game of control. She didnât care what the other purebloods thought. Only the thought of Charis held her upâ”as furious as she was with her sister, she could not help hoping that her defection would not harm Charis. She didnât see how it couldâ”breaking the engagement with Lucifer would just cause more scandal, and to marry him was all Charis really wanted anyway. Sheâll be all right, Cedrella told herself. She has what she wanted. Sheâll be happy. She did not want to think about the fact that she would probably never see Charis again. It was too painful. She forced her mind to other things.
So after the wedding was long past, then what? It was dizzying to her, that mere hours before she had had no control over what she wore, much less what her future was going to entail. And nowâŚnow she had nothing but a wide-open blank slate and a bad reputation. She would finish her year at Hogwarts of course, but what about after that?
She remembered, suddenly, a conversation she had had with Septimus the previous spring, their first real fight. âWhat do you want?â he had demanded of her. And she had replied, âI want to relive this year, over and over and over again. I never want to get married and I never want to go home and I want to study and learn and be with you. Always.â
She leaned her head against the wall, closing her eyes against the hope that was blossoming in her chest.
No, she told it.
But you did what he wanted you to do! it persisted, leaping up and down. You may have done it at the very last moment, but you did it! You left the Blacks, you didnât choose them. Youâre free now. You can be with him!
Septimus has no reason to want me back and every reason to hate me now, she argued with herself. I led him on for months and treated him horribly and put him through the worst kind of uncertainty. He wanted to live his life and thatâs what he should do.
But he wanted you, that hopeful voice reminded her. He only broke it off because he had to, because you werenât being fair to him. He was ready to marry you!
And this, Cedrella could not deny.
**
She paced back and forth, around and around the small room which she had not seen the outside of for three days, running a brush anxiously through her hair. She had been mostly alone ever since running away from the Open House, alone with her thoughts and her anxieties and her hope. She had seen Pepper, of course, who had come to check on her every day and brought her some smoked meat (âbetter than that ruddy food they serve hereâ) and two sets of ill-fitting robes (she had no idea where they had come from but she was grateful to have something to wear besides for her silky slip and her bloodstained cloak). He didnât talk much, but she didnât mindâ”simply the idea that there was someone out there looking out for her was enough. She was fairly sure that she would be indebted to Pepper for the rest of her life. As for the scruffy innkeeper, who had told her to call him simply âAb,â she had only spoken to him when he brought her food, and true to her bargain on that first night, he had not even asked her name. He persisted in calling Pepper âGoldilocks,â which Cedrella found hilarious and which made the gamekeeper go red when she asked him about it.
But mostly, she had been alone, and for all the thinking she had done, trying to distract herself from thoughts of her family, she had decided only three things. The first was that she was going to get herself an owl for her very own, a familiar like Mathias who could go with her everywhere and be her closest confidant, her constant companion. The second was that she needed moneyâ”her family had most certainly already cut off her access to their vaultâ”so for a start she needed to sell the heap of pearl hairpins now sitting on her nightstand, and after that she needed to find a job. A job! It was a strange concept to Cedrella, one she had never really thought much about. Perhaps she could work in a pet shop, and help people choose their owls. She would like that. Other purebloods would be horrified.
And the third thingâŚthe third thing was what was making her pace, was twisting her stomach with anxiety and too many other emotions to identify. The third thing was what had permeated all of her other thoughts, made it difficult to plan anything, decide anything, even to be properly sad about losing Charis and Callidora, though she had cried about that a few times already. For she had to know, once and for all, whether she had any chance to be with Septimus ever again. The fact that with only a tiny bit of hope, she could once more not get him off her mind reminded her that she still loved him, that what she had told him last spring was true. And she had to know soon, because as it was she could hardly think of anything else, could not squash the newfound hope in her heart no matter how hard she tried. So she was going to find him, today, and tell him everything. The worst thing that could happen, she reasoned, was that he would turn her away, have closed that door and shut her out of his heart.
She had already lost him once. This wouldnât hurt nearly as badly.
She packed up everything in her roomâ”which wasnât muchâ”into her bag. She put her cloak on over the robes Pepper had given her, and gave her hair one more nervous brush-though. She surveyed herself in the cracked mirror hanging on the back of her door for a long, moment, thinking of the last time she had looked at her reflection, back at Château Noir, and a strange porcelain doll had looked back. She didnât look remotely like a doll anymore, but she certainly looked strange. She looked like a plain girl in ill-fitting clothes with her arm bound into a sling. She looked just as adrift, lost, and penniless as she was. But Cedrella recognized this girl, shabby though she was. This was the girl who spoke to owls and set traps in the forest, who read books late into the night, who had flown with Septimus to a mountain meadow on Valentineâs Day and stayed out until dawn.
âHello, Drell,â she said softly.
It was early afternoon, and there were a few people sitting at the bar downstairs, talking in low voices. Ab looked around as she came down the stairs behind the counter.
âGoing somewhere, missy?â
âYes,â Cedrella said. âBut Iâll most likely be back soon, so please donât put anyone else up in my room.â
He grunted in response, already going back to wiping glasses.
She hurried out of the pub before she lost her nerve and strode down the street to a corner, where she stopped to take out her wand. She had never done this beforeâ”her mother always said only hooligans, Mudbloods, and crooks took the Knight Busâ”but she supposed there was a first time for everything, now that she was plain old Drell and not Cedrella Narcissa Crouch nee Black any longer.
She held out her wand into the street. BANG.
There it was, just as Septimus had once described it to herâ”three stories high, bright purple, barreling down the street. A man appeared in the door. âWelcome to theâ”â
âHow much to get to Tinsworth?â Cedrella interrupted.
He blinked at her. âSeven sickles.â
âIf I told you I didnât have seven sickles but I do have theseâ”â she held up three of her hairpins âwhich are antiques and worth several Galleons apiece, would you still take me to Tinsworth?â
The man blinked. âErrrr⌠I âspose?â
âLovely,â Cedrella said, pushing the pins into his hand and hurrying onto the bus before he could change his mind. She could tell he was watching her, giving her an odd, calculating look, but she was sure they got all types on the Knight Bus, she couldnât be that unusual. And she was rather past caring what anyone thought of her.
It was more crowded than she had expected, but she sat in the back corner of the bus by the window, staring out of it as the vehicle lurched forward with another BANG. She kept her hood up, just in case someone recognized her, and held her bag tightly in her lap.
Cedrella hardly noticed what was passing by outside, or the lurching movement of the bus. Her thoughts were all on Septimus, what she would say and how he would respond, on the chance of meeting his family who she had wanted to know for so long, on seeing his home at last. Her stomach was in knots. Never, after what had happened in October, had she expected to find herself on her way to Tinsworth to confront him. But then again, she never could have anticipated much that had happened over the past few days.
It was a surprisingly short time before the conductor was saying, âNow whereabouts in Tinsworth, miss?â
And she heard herself answering, with a tremor in her voice, âanywhere near the Weasleys place, do you know it?â
And he was nodding, and moving up to the front again, and with another BANG the bus was rolling through a snowy countryside, and then it had stopped, and she was thanking him and watching him point up the lane to a large house about half a mile away, and she was nodding and getting off the bus again and then it was gone. And there she stood, alone, in sight of Septimusâ house.
From what she could see it was medium sized, made of stone, with a thatched roof peeking out from under the snow and smoke curling out of the chimney. Was he in there at that very moment? she wondered. Were they all there, preparing for Christmas perhaps, making cookies and potato pancakes? Was he thinking of her and the letters they had exchanged this time last year, before it all really began, before he had ever kissed her?
She set off up the lane, counting her footsteps to keep her mind calm and focused. It was much shorter than it looked, and far too soon she was out of time and had reached the door. Cedrella stared at it, covered in chipped red paint with a heavy, unadorned iron knocker in the center. She was here. She would know soon, one way or anotherâŚ
I have nothing to loose, she reminded herself, and with that she reached out and lifted the knocker, twice.
There were sounds from within and the door opened, revealing a tall woman with her grey-streaked red hair pulled back into a bun, wearing an apron over her robes. Septimusâ mother. She stared down at Cedrella rather sternly.
She swallowed. âIs Septimus here?â she asked, fighting to keep her voice from shaking. âI need to speak with him, itâsâ”â
âMy son is not taking visitors at this time,â Alana Weasley interrupted. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at Cedrella suspiciously.
âMrs. Weasley, this is important, I promise. May I please, please see him?â she did not try to disguise the desperation in her voice.
The old woman seemed to consider her for a moment. Cedrella felt uncomfortably like she knew exactly who she was. âVery well,â she said curtly, at last. âOn your own head be it I suppose. Come in.â
Wondering what on earth that ominous statement could mean, and if the Weasleys all hated her now after what she had done to Septimus over the summer, she followed his mother into the house. She had just a glimpse of a large, cozy sitting room that opened into a kitchen where several redheaded people were talking, before her guide turned down a hallway and shut the door behind them. They passed a staircase and an open doorway before Alana Weasley opened yet another door at the end of the hall and gestured for her to enter. Cedrella did so, looking at the older woman uncertainly, but she did not get any reassurance.
âSeptimus, someone is here to see you,â his mother said, before closing the door again.
Slowly, Cedrella turned around. The room was a small den, covered in framed Quidditch articles and faded Gryffindor banners. At a large desk by the window, a redheaded man sat with his back to her.
âSeptimus?â she asked, softly.
He turned around slowly, as if in a trance, and they stared at one another. There were dark circles under his clear blue eyes, and he looked ill and drawn. But still so handsome, she thought, drinking in the sight of him. His eyes were so familiar, even as he gazed at her in disbelief.
âSeptimus, Iâ”â
âCedrella, what the hell are you DOING here?â
She started, her heart pounding even faster if possible. She had not expected such open hostility, she had to admit. But perhaps he was just shocked.
âI had to talk to you,â she said. âI have to explain something. Iâ”â
âExplain? What is there to explain? This is so over, Cedrella! Youâre married, for Merlinâs sake! What did you want to tell me, that youâre SORRY? Well, Iâm sorry too! But I donât want to hear it, all right? Get out of here, youâre only making things worse!â
She stared incredulously at him, mouth gaping. She had never heard Septimus sound so bitter, so mean, not when they had argued about right and wrong, not even in October when he had said all of those awful things to her. And on top of thatâ”âI am NOT married!â she shouted.
Septimus let out a harsh, entirely humorless laugh. It was a terrifying sound. âAnd now youâre denying it? Whatâs the point of that, Cedrella? What more could you want from me?â
âIâm not lying!â she exclaimed. âWhy would I do that? And what do you mean, what more could I want? I donât want anything from you, Sep, Iâm just trying to explainâ”â
âWhy you married Crouch? Yeah I get it, you didnât have a choiceâ”â
âYes I did have a choice, Septimus, and I made the right one, Iâ”â
âOh so thatâs what youâre here to tell me, that youâre happy now as the Slytherin bride? Gosh Cedrella, I really needed to know that! It really eases my peace of mind!â he was shouting now, on his feet.
âNO!â she shrieked at him, over his accusatory shouts. âNo, NO! I could never be happy as Casparâs wife, as my fatherâs little pawn, and thatâs why I didnât get married! I left! Thatâs what Iâve been trying to TELL you!â
He was only silent for a moment, and then he said in a deadly voice, âWhat the hell are you playing at, Cedrella.â It wasnât question.
âIâm notâ”âshe began, but he had snatched something off the desk and flung it at her.
âWhatâs that, then?â he snarled, as she caught the two newspapers. âLook at that and then tell me why youâre really here.â
Cedrella stared down at the Prophets, both folded over to the Society page. One showed photographs from the Open House ball, with an especially large one of her dancing with Caspar that had a caption that read âNew high society darlings, Purebloods Cedrella Black and Caspar Crouch.â All right, that was bad, but it didnât explain Septimusâ hostility⌠She turned her attention to the second newspaper.
Crouch-Black Wedding, read the headline. And below that, there it was: a photograph of a bride and groom, hand in hand. Caspar was unmistakable, his blonde hair combed away from his face, smiling a small, courteous smile as he waved to the guests and the cameras with his free hand. Beside him was a young woman, tall and slender with long brown waves, radiant in the elaborate dress and veil that she, Cedrella, had tried on just days ago at a fitting.
If she had not known, beyond any doubt, that she had not attended that wedding, had never donned that finished dress, she would have sworn it was herself. Feeling slightly faint with shock, she sank onto one of the nearby armchairs and stared at the photo in horror. Who could it possibly be? Had her parents fed someone Polyjuice potion in order to avoid scandal? Wouldnât that backfire on them a hundredfold later? She peered at the bride, trying to see her face behind the veil. As she watched, the bride waved cheekily to the photographer and turned towards Caspar, kissing him on the cheek. And then Cedrella saw her profile and, for a fleeting moment, her large beaklike nose, and she closed her eyes as icy dread swept over her.
No.
Charis.
She scanned the article, looking for her name or her sisterâs. Neither appeared. The bride and groom were simply referred to as âBlack,â and âCrouch,â or âthe new Mr. and Mrs. Crouch.â She stared at the picture once more. The brideâs hair, now that she thought about it, was considerably shorter than her own, hanging to just the middle of her back rather than skimming her hips. But she so rarely was allowed to wear her hair down at formal events that no one would ever notice⌠She went back to the article. âafter reportedly taking sick after Fridayâs Open House, Black glowed as she danced with guest after guestâŚâ âAttendees included all of Blackâs extended family, the Yaxleys, the Selwyns, the Longbottoms, and the Potters. The Malfoy family was, noticeably, absent.â
Yes, Charis.
So this was how her father had avoided public humiliation? Spreading a story about her taking ill, passing his fifteen year old daughter off as Cedrella, paying off the newspaper not to say anything technically false, and probably bribing the Malfoys as well to drop Luciferâs engagement with Charis quietly?
When it was all Charis wanted, no matter how foolish the wish, was to be Mrs. Lucifer Malfoy?
Did Charis have any say in the matter at all? Would she even be allowed to return to Hogwarts to take her O.W.Lâs? Had she been allowed to say goodbye to Lucifer, to explain things to him? How was she feeling now? Does she hate me? Cedrella wondered, burying her face in her lap as she thought of the last time they had spoken to each other. Does she blame me, for all of it? She remembered her concern, that first morning, that running away could have harmed her sister, and her dismissal of the idea as so unlikely. How very, very wrong she had been!
âEr, Cedrella?â
She jumpedâ”she had almost forgotten Septimus was still in the room, watching her. He sounded much less angryâ”his voice was cautious, curious, and his expression was confused. She obviously had not reacted how he had expected her to.
She swiped furiously at the tears on her face and turned to face him. âSeptimus,â she said, her voice a low quiver, âI know youâre angry and confused. And I understand why. But please, please just listen to me. You have to hear me out.â She looked at him imploringly, desperate for him to understand.
Slowly, he nodded.
âThat isnât me,â she said, pointing to the picture of the bride and groom. âI know it looks like it, but itâs not. This isâ”â she held up the article about the Open House âbut that was probably taken less than an hour before I ran away from the house.â
âIf itâs not you, who is it, then?â The accusatory note was back.
âCharis,â she said, tears running down her cheeks again. âPlease, Sep, just let me finish.â
He was quiet.
âMy father took me away from Hogwarts almost a week early,â she began again. âHe wouldnât tell me why until I forced him to, and then he revealed that they had rescheduled the wedding from June to December right before pushing me into the Floo. I spent several days at home getting ready for the wedding, and I was so angry, Sep, because I couldnât figure out why they were treating me like I had done something wrong, like I was about to bolt at any second. Then on the night of the Open House, Father made a speechâ”it was supposed to be toast to Caspar and I, but he saidâŚwell he said a lot of things, but basically he admitted like it was something to be proud of to all the guests that it was a purely political marriage, all about Pureblood values and nothing about us as actual people. I remembered what you always used to say, about me being a marriage pawn, and how I always used to deny it, because I knew I was more than that, and because my family meant more to me than that. But I realized that that was how he, my own father, thought of me. And on top of that he made a jibe about the Weaselys being blood traitors, right to my face like he was taunting me.â She took a deep breath, thinking of what came next, of Charis. Septimus was watching her intently, his expression inscrutable.
âI was upset,â she continued. âI left the dance floor to get some air, to calm down and compose myself, and I went to the bathroom. And I overheard Charis and Lucifer talking about me, and why the wedding had been moved, and she told him that she thought it was because Father didnât trust me. She said Father had asked her to spy on me at school, and she had told him about me spending so much time with Pepper, and tutoring some Gryffindor first years, and playing with owls. And she told Lucifer about you, and how I lied to her about you, and⌠I was so, so angry. I confronted her, and we had an argument, and we said awful things to each other, but the point is that she made me realize that she wanted to be one of Fatherâs pawns, she wanted that life for herself, because she wanted to marry Lucifer, and that I could never be happy and never live with myself and never be myself if I stayed. And that what my family meant to me was not what my family means to anyone else, not at all. And so I ran up to my room, and ripped off my awful dress and changed my clothes and tried to Disapparate, because I knew it was my only chance to get away. I managed it, I got to Hogsmeade, but I splinched myself.â She gestured at her sling. âAn owl brought Pepper to me, and he helped me get a room at the Hogâs Head, and I paid for my room with my engagement ring, and Iâve been there for days, taking blood replenishing potion and hiding from my family until after the wedding was over, until they would have to admit that I was gone. And ever since, Iâve been trying to decide what to do and all I can think about is you, and the chance that you might not hate me anymore, and so thatâs why I came to talk to you. I had to tell you, I needed you to know. And I had no ideaâŚuntil nowâŚwhat my family had done, that they had covered it up like this⌠I never dreamed they would do such a thing. Itâs despicable.â
She flattened the picture out on her lap once more, showing it to Septimus. âSee how much shorter her hair is? And there, when she turns, you can see her nose⌠The article never mentions the brideâs first name. But it does say that âIâ took sick after the Open House, which must be their way of explaining away the fact that I disappeared in the middle of it. And it says that the Malfoys werenât at the wedding, because of course they must be furious that Father married Charis to Caspar and didnât honor her engagement to Lucifer, that they got drawn into a scandal that should have had nothing to do with themâŚâ She wiped angrily at her eyes, which were streaming again.
âAnd itâs just wrong, because Charis may be young and naive and vain, but all she wanted was to marry Lucifer Malfoy, and I think she really did love him, in her own way, and now sheâs married to someone else just to cover up something that had nothing to do with her, something that I did, and sheâs only fifteen and probably broken-hearted, and Iâm sure she has no idea what sheâs doing or what is going to happen. But Iâm sure my father will have some big plan, about how to spin this to the press and how doing this to Charis was so much better for the Blacksâ image overall that canceling the wedding and admitting right away that I left, andâŚandâŚâ she was crying too hard to continue, imagining how it must have been for her sister, how betrayed and terrified and angry and sad she must have felt. âAnd itâs all my fault,â she finished bitterly, through her tears.
Septimus had picked up the newspaper while she spoke, gazing at it intently, looking between her and the picture. Now, he placed it behind him on the desk and knelt down on the floor in front of her. âCedrella, look at me.â
She did so.
âItâs not your fault.â
âThatâs easy for you to say.â
âI know, but youâ”hold on. Just⌠just let me clarify a few things.â
She nodded.
âYou didnât marry Caspar Crouch.â
âCorrect.â
âYou ran out on the wedding at the last second.â
âYes.â
âAnd you did it because you realized you could never be yourself as a pureblood wife, and that your family is insane and that youâre ten thousand times better than them, and then they proved that to be true by forcing Charis to marry Crouch in order to save their image, or something?â
âI suppose you could put it like that.â
âAnd youâre not going back?â
âNever, I canât. Iâm sure Iâve been blasted off the family tree already.â She swallowed another sob.
He gazed at her. His face was very white. âAndâŚand you paid for your room at the Hogâs Head with your engagement ring?â
The faintest trace of a smile flickered across her tear streaked face. âYes, I did.â
âAnd,â Septimus said, whispering now, as if he could hardly believe it, âYou came here to tell me all of this because you couldnât stop thinking about me?â
âYes.â
âBecause you still care about me?â
âBecause I still love you,â she said. âI never stopped, Sep. There was never a question of that.â
Septimus let out a long, slow, breath, and buried his face in her lap. She thought that he might have actually started to cry.
Tentatively, she put a hand on his shoulder, and he reached up immediately, gripping it with one of his. She ran her fingertips through his hair, hardly daring to believe it was real, torn between joy and relief, and bitter guilt and sorrow. She touched him with hesitant, careful fingers: his neck, his back, his shoulders, his cheek. After a long time, he raised his head to look at her again.
âDrell, you promise me that no matter what, youâre never going back there? Youâre not going to, I dunno, kill your sister and claim your rightful place as Mrs. Caspar Crouch?â
She let out a laugh that sounded more like a sob. âI promise.â
He pulled her off the chair and into his arms then, and they sat there on the floor, clinging to one another, for an immeasurable amount of time. Everything about Septimus was familiar to herâ”his smell, his grip, even the shirt he was wearing. But until a few days before, she had lost all hope that she would ever get to hold him like this again. She still felt like a melting pot of emotions, but the joy was winning. He had always had that effect on her.
âIâm so sorry I yelled at you,â he said after a while. âI was just soâ”it upset me so much, the idea that you would marry him so soon after things ended between us, because Iâve been hoping since October that you would change your mind and come to your senses and leave them, after all, and so I was just wrapping my head around the idea that it was really the end of the line now, and you were married, and I was never going to see you again, and I couldnât hope for that anymore. Iâve been such a wreck, Drellâ”even Rudyâs been steering clear of me.â
âItâs all right,â she said into his shoulder. âI understand. If you really did think I was marriedâŚI would have had no business turning up here, tormenting you.â
âAnyway it doesnât matter anymore,â Septimus said. âYou didnât get married, after all. Though you did wait until the very last second, I have to say.â
âThat was what it took for me to realize what it really meant,â she said. âIt was facing it, really facing it and what everyone expected it to mean, that made me understand I could never go through with it. No one asked me if I was happy, Sep. But they were all so sure I was! So sure I was proud and glad to marry him, along with everything that it meant. And thatâs when I realizedâ”or Charis made me realizeâ”that I was never going to make a good Black, that I had to make it out of there while I still could.â She sighed. âShe was the better Black all along, Charis was. And look where itâs gotten her!â
âIâm sorry, Drell,â Septimus said softly.
She was sorry too. But there was nothing more to say, really. So she kissed him instead, pressing her lips against his, savoring the taste of their tears and of the person without whom she would not have found Drell, the girl who could talk to owls, who was Head Girl and poised to take her N.E.W.T.s, who could do whatever she liked with her future, be it being Hogwarts gamekeeper or a magical ornithologist or anything else she could dream up. Drell, who was worth something, and knew it. Drell, who was free.
Septimus broke the kiss for only a moment, long enough to yell âMum, we have another guest for Christmas!â And then his lips were back on hers and there was no reason, really, to think about the next time they would have to part.
Soldiers by dominiqueweasley
Chapter Notes: All Cedrella can say for sure is that her life has become a lesson in expecting the unexpected.