Alright. This has almost 10000 words, so enjoy that in the middle of the night (at least in my country). And I thought of posting it on UNSEEN instead of here, but I thought it would be nicer for these chapters to be here.

There are 2 unseen snippets and 1 scene that is a continuation to the story.

Special Chapter: Other POVs and Snippets

1) Marauders' Ball

Peter Pettigrew sighed loudly and curled his lip and nose at the taste of the very strong whiskey that Sirius had managed to sneak to them table, away from the acceptable wine and champagne that the adults looked the other way when the teenagers drank. It tasted terrible, but it was something to pass the time when – clearly – they were going to be there for a very long time, and the boys didn't seem to be interested in dancing, which was the part that he had been the most excited about.

"I don't understand why we can't just go and ask the girls to dance," Peter said, frowning. "The dances are easy enough. James already danced tonight."

"So did you," Remus said, swinging the whiskey and sighing at the bad taste as well. He was never a lover of alcohol, but he liked being drunk. "You danced with two girls already."

"I like dancing," Peter said with a shrug. "Mum taught me."

Remus turned to look at his friend.

"I didn't peg you for the dancing type, mate," Remus admitted, eyebrows raising just a little bit.

"It's fun."

Sirius rolled his eyes, leaning on the wall beside him and crossing his arms, balancing his cup with just his fingers.

"I don't see how. I hated every single class of it," Sirius said.

James turned to Sirius.

"Because you had classes of it, most of us just learned because our mum wanted us to, or because it was supposed to be fun," James said. He took the cup from Sirius before he could drink another sip. "You had three of them already, Pads. I think you had enough. Maa will be mad if you get home drunk."

"Mama wouldn't care," Sirius said.

"She sort of would," Peter said, hesitatingly.

Even if Euphemia wouldn't scold him or hit him, she certainly would glare and look all disappointed, like she usually did when they came home stumbling (with James controlling them) from the pub. While her pride that James' soberness was evident, she tried her best not to speak much of the other children's drinking states, but Peter always felt bad when he drank too much at their home. Euphemia would drink only two types of alcohol: brandy (sometimes one cup or so, and mostly because it was used in cooking as well and the taste was good) and white wine (and mostly for the sake of combination with her food, especially her wonderful fish plates). Everybody had seen her sip at a brandy cup on a party, but she hated drinking. Either it was due to her culture or to her religion, Euphemia was a lot more amenable to looking the other way for her boys, but she did care when they did something wrong regardless.

Sirius pressed his lips together, but didn't try to take the cup from James.

"The girl... the one that you danced with... what was her name, really?" Peter started, looking at James.

"Oh? Josephine Baker," James said with a nod. He looked around the room, finding the girl across it, giggling with her friends. "She's from Hufflepuff."

"She's a year older," Sirius added. "Very nice. Friendly."

"Every girl is friendly with you, Pads," James said, rolling his eyes.

Sirius chuckled at that.

With another song finishing and people clapping, Peter changed his posture, trying to see the dancefloor.

They were all standing on the very corner of the ballroom, away from most people's groups and away from the chairs and tables. It was far enough from the strings so that their conversation wasn't being screamed at each other, but it was still loud enough that sometimes they had to lean to one another to understand each other better.

Remus made a little noise.

Peter glanced at his tallest friend before following his eyes.

Luna was in the opposite corner of the room, blush on her cheeks, a smirk on her lips. Regulus leaned almost completely on her side, towering over her like the shadow of a tree over the lake, protective and possessive. They communicated with their lips so close to each other's faces that they were about to kiss at any moment.

"He's brave tonight," Remus grumbled.

Sirius looked around, quickly finding what they were talking about.

"Relax, mate. They're just talking," Sirius dismissed in a mutter, still his gaze didn't linger on the couple.

James leaned forward, seeing the couple through the other guests of the ball.

"We've seen them doing worse," James said, agreeing with Sirius.

"Well, they aren't going to kiss here. Regulus isn't stupid enough for that," Sirius said, frowning.

Remus turned to look at his friend. "Thank fuck!" he said.

Peter shook his head.

"Yeah, no. That's something that I don't understand for the life of me," Peter admitted to his friends. "Everybody knows they snog in the corner at school all the time, like, even Moony found them – (and Remus did a little noise at the back of his throat at the memory) – and yet here, in public, where they can be all sweet with each other, they act like flirting teenagers that have never touched one another. It's so weird!"

James laughed at Peter's perspective.

"I mean, would you kiss someone in front of your mother?" James asked.

Peter shrugged. "If I'm dating the person for long enough, or married, or something like that," he said.

That caught James' attention.

"Wait, you would actually kiss someone in front of your parents? Like, really?" he asked, confused.

Peter frowned, even more confused at his friend's reaction.

"Wouldn't you? I know our cultures are different, but I'm sure that if you kissed your wife in front of your parents, they wouldn't do anything. You're Indian, not a prisoner," Peter said, growing concerned with his friend's reaction once he saw Sirius looked equally appalled. He turned to Remus, who looked confused as well, which made him feel better. "It's just kissing, it's not like you're snogging someone in public. Snogging – that's weird!"

James shook his head.

"You don't kiss people in front of your family," James said.

"Ever. I don't think I have ever seen my parents kiss," Sirius admitted.

Remus made a grimace. "Pads, your parents are not the standard," Remus reminded him.

Sirius turned to Remus.

"Well, when we're talking about what pureblood couples are supposed to be, yes, they are," Sirius said. "You don't ever kiss someone in front of your family, unless it's your wedding day or something that can be overlooked, like Christmas or midnight at a New Years' Party. Physical affection is encouraged inside of your bedroom, with locked doors after the children are asleep."

James nodded, agreeing with Sirius.

Remus frowned.

"This explains so much about you, Padfoot, really," Remus mused.

Sirius half-heartedly glared at Remus at his comment.

"And it also explains a lot about why you have no common sense at all," Peter added, nodding at Remus' idea with the fact that Sirius was odd. The werewolf chuckled. "When you found out about sex, it was like you went mad. And you sort of actually did! Like, you overcompensated the sex-reputation of purebloods."

"Alright, alright!" Sirius said, dismissing the jokes at his expense.

James turned to them.

"Men are not exactly taught to want to stay pure normally, certainly, but Pads did go overboard," James admitted.

Sirius turned to James, betrayed.

"Oh, nice! Cheers, mate!" he said, annoyed.

James gave him a cute smile, as if dismissing a valid thankful reaction.

"Oh, it's the waltz now!" James said, recognising the start of the song. He found Luna and Regulus preparing to dance. "It's the dance that I was teaching your sister earlier today, Moons. I love that song, but I refuse to dance it in public."

Sirius groaned loudly, throwing his head back dramatically as he refused to watch as the first notes of the melody started. Still, seconds later he looked back down, watching as his brother prepared himself for one of the hardest dances of the season.

Remus turned.

"Why don't you dance it? Prongs. James! Why?" Remus asked, frowning in concern.

But James didn't need to answer, all Remus had to do was watch and understand exactly why many of the younger couples refused to dance that in public.

While clearly a very controlled dance, it was clear that it was an expressive one.

In a clear cloud of talent, the dancers in the ballroom were intertwining and brushing hands, fingers and nails against one another in a manner of provocative teasing, inviting the other for more. It was a mating dance. It was something used, clearly, so the desires that were ever under the skin could come out just enough. In normal couples, it would lead to a couple of giggles and blushing moments – even between Luna and James (most certainly not a couple), they seemed to have fun while he showed her the basics of the choreography – but between Luna and Regulus it seemed a moment away from an explosion.

James giggled to himself like a pathetic schoolboy, hand reaching out to hold onto Peter's arm and squeezing it.

"Oh, look at them!" he cooed.

Remus' lips curled in disgust as Regulus' hand brushed his sister's shoulder enough for the muscles underneath her skin to flutter.

"They are disgusting," Sirius grumbled, looking away just as quickly as he had decided to watch.

Remus seemed to agree.

Peter frowned.

He knew Luna was beautiful, and he had admitted to himself that he had no chance with her for at least a year at that point, and yet he couldn't look away. The way she moved under the light and the way she exposed every single inch of skin possible for one brush of Regulus' finger against it was beyond enticing.

But it wasn't until Luna's mouth gasped and she held onto Regulus' shoulder as he raised her from the ground, holding her so close that her skirt got slightly caught between his own legs as he put her down far too close that he understood that – perhaps – his crush was not as over as he had intended it to be at that point, because his hands were now shaking and his heart was speeding up.

The other couples moved to the next step, but Luna and Regulus were half a moment late.

"Oh! Oh!" James did again.

Peter pushed his friend's hands away from him.

"Prongs, stop," he scolded.

James turned, still smiling brightly at Peter, cheeks coloured under the bronze of his skin. He didn't seem to see Peter's annoyance, but he certainly did see his other friends'.

"Oh, come on, they're just dancing," James said directly at Remus.

Remus turned around, putting his cup to the side of the wall and shoving his hands into his trousers' pockets, not caring that his friends weren't following him when he walked away, going straight towards his mother.

Sirius watched Remus go.

"It's disgusting," he said, trying to protect Remus.

James turned to Sirius and glared.

"You don't think this is disgusting because it's your brother, you think it's disgusting because it's Luna. That possessiveness of your is completely useless," he warned his almost-brother while raising his eyebrows. He glanced at Peter, searching for support, but found just irritation in answer. "Oh, you too?! What's wrong?! Sirius I can understand being this much of an arse about all this, but you, Wormy? What happened?"

Peter tried to swallow through the tight throat.

He wasn't even sure how to answer.

The bitter taste of whiskey was clinging to his tongue, which was probably why he had a lump on his throat, too. His heart was pounding.

It really had taken him by surprise.

He had seen Luna and Regulus sneaking around like a normal teenage couple in school and felt nothing more than some sort of curiosity, perhaps even some abnormal fixation over the fact that they seemed to be growing closer so quickly, but seeing them in actual public with adults around and their relationship being so openly recognised seemed to have a different version of his 'protectiveness' (as he had called it to himself before) come out. Not even when he had thought of Sirius with Luna he had felt that bad, but seeing her so openly belonging to someone else made him uncomfortable.

James sighed, shaking his head.

"This is unbelievable," he complained.

He turned, ignoring his friends as he followed Remus.

Remus was now talking to Hope in a low voice, a frown clear on his face as he moved his hands while talking, clearly not enjoying the way his mother barely spared him a glance. Euphemia watched the scene through the corner of her eyes, looking slightly more interested in what he had to say than his own mother. Walburga Black, however, seemed somewhat amused by Remus' presence, eyebrows raised and head turned to watch him without a façade of privacy.

"I know my reasons to find this disgusting, but I fear I know yours as well, Wormtail," Sirius said.

Peter looked at Sirius.

"Well, it took me by surprise right now," he admitted.

Sirius hummed.

"It didn't take me. I knew for a while now," he answered.

Peter shook his head. Sirius was just trying to sound deep, because there was no way that he knew when even Peter himself didn't know anything.

"It's nothing. It'll pass," he said with a shrug.

Peter forced a smile, which wavered at the edges. His fingers fidgeted with the hem of his jacket, tugging at loose threads.

"She's a good girl, Peter. You could've done a lot worse for yourself, but I don't think it'll work," Sirius said.

Peter crossed his arms, uncomfortable. Suddenly his father's old suit felt too tight around him, even though Euphemia had altered it to be perfect on him.

"I wouldn't do that to Remus," Peter managed to say.

Sirius winced. "Yeah, you were always a better friend than I ever was, but you would've been a better... more than a friend to her than I could've ever been as well, if you had your shot," he answered, trying not to look too hurt by Peter's insinuation. "I only realised once we were already over, otherwise I wouldn't have even started, mate. I swear."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Peter grumbled.

"Having a crush on Luna Lupin is not as surprising as Remus believes it to be," Sirius said with a chuckle. "I can tell you a long list of names from several Houses that have been after her for a while now. The thing is that both Lupin siblings just can't see over their own reflection sometimes."

Peter sighed, nose twitching.

"Fucking hell. Of all the girls I could take a fancy I had to go to my mate's sister, who's dating my other mate's brother," Peter complained.

Dating Regulus Black of all people! It was like he was trying to get beaten up at school if someone found out.

That took a genuine bark of a laughter out of Sirius, who smiled at his friend brightly and threw an arm around his shoulders.

"Believe me, there are worse things in the world," he soothed.

"Than fancying a girl that will not like you back?" Peter asked.

"Oh, absolutes! You could be fancying a bloke that will certainly punch you in the face if you imply that he was anything other than heterosexual," Sirius teased.

Peter gave him a grimace.

"I suppose you're right," he said.

"I usually am," Sirius joked.

2) Outside of the Ministry Ballroom

TW: Implied Homophobia

Evan crossed his arms, scowling very obviously at his father across the ballroom.

Raphael Rosier had promised that they wouldn't stay until too late.

They had so much to do with the wedding party still, but that meant that Evan (as a man) had nothing to do but to sit down and watch his father smile and wave, his mother look astonishingly glamour and his sister like the perfect girl that they had always wanted in her utter happiness.

This year they wouldn't celebrate the twins' birthdays since just a few days later Pandora would be married off, so Evan had decided that in exchange for not having a birthday party this year he just wanted to take complete control over the wedding final negotiations for his sister, which were going well. So, well that it took far less time than he had expected, hence the nothingness that Evan had to do other than watch everything around him.

His list of rules was now growing as well.

Without his sister for his parents to worry about marrying off, he was the next target, which meant his mother was on his back most of the time, watching his every move towards any girl that not Luna Lupin. He danced with Luna the very first song to get away from his mother and was absolutely shocked when Regulus seemed uncomfortable with the idea of him dancing a second one with her – sure, he knew it wasn't all that proper; dancing two dances with a girl that was in a courtship with his friend was a bit of an arse thing to do, but who else would he dance with? His mother would kill him if he danced with someone wrong, but she would also scold him if he didn't dance at all! She wanted him to meet the right people, but he didn't want to talk to the mamas that came along with talking to girls outside of school.

What's left was scowl and mope around with Barty laughing at him.

"It can't be as bad as you make it seem," Barty said, crossing his legs from the seat he had taken on the windowsill near the edge of the ballroom, very near to the doors that would lead away from the whole situation. "Your sister's getting married in a few days, you're turning sixteen and you'll get a vault of your own!"

"That's literally the worst birthday present they could've given me," Evan grumbled.

"So you asked for work, which is the most absurd thing I have ever heard from you before. You're becoming a weird motherfucker, Evvy," Barty agreed.

"Please, don't call me 'Evvy'," Evan sighed.

Barty smiled to himself, amused at his friend's reaction to such a simple nickname. "Your sister said that you would cry when people would call you that," he said.

Evan looked at his friend through the corner of his eye, but his shoulders relaxed a bit.

"I used to," he admitted.

Barty's smile grew.

"You're joking!"

"I'm not completely joking, but it was an overreaction of everybody's part. Bellatrix really liked calling me 'Evvy' and I was terrified of her, so I'd cry whenever she got too close to call me that. At some point people just started assuming that I was crying about the nickname, not about her," Evan explained. Barty cringed at the idea. "She's not as bad anymore, but I do see her a lot less nowadays – married life and all that. If Merlin is merciful on all of us, I won't have to see her again after my sister's wedding for a few more months, and maybe she won't ever have children, so I can live my life happily without worrying that I need to keep my children safe from her murderous Black blood."

"Regulus is a Black, just a reminder!"

"I know. That's why I put the blame on the blood, not on Bellatrix herself," Evan said frowning even more.

Barty chuckled at that.

"He's not that bad, stop it," Barty scolded half-heartedly.

"Oh, come on, Barty. Tell me that you haven't thought about him having children in the future and feared for Hogwarts!" Evan said, smiling truly for the first time in hours. Barty raised his eyebrows. "A tiny boy with his hair and murderous aspects, but worsened somehow because his mother won't be an easy one – even if it's... I don't know... Luna, who's like, not the worst I can think of, that would still be bad."

"Oh, wow! Why?!"

"Luna's terrifying sometimes, didn't you notice? All kindness and gentleness, and then she knows everything about you," Evan said, forcing a dramatic shiver. "A sweet child with Luna's personality and Regulus' temper, absolute Azkaban potential!"

Barty's laughter at the thought was so strong that he leaned forward, shaking his head in surprise at how completely open at his distaste for the future.

"Lady Black would never allow it," Barty said.

Evan nodded.

"Oh, certainly! She would have Regulus' bollocks if Luna got pregnant. Would tear it from his trousers with her own hands, too," Evan agreed with his friend.

The boy cringed at the idea alone, because while Walburga Black was a wonderfully beautiful woman, he certainly would've been terrified at her sight of angry her coming towards him, especially towards his bollocks. Walburga was the type of woman that wouldn't blink twice before tearing his skin, clawing at it in fury. That was the reason why Barty admired Luna so – to face Walburga with a smile, make-up and nice words because one cannot tell her to fuck off was certainly courageous.

Barty frowned a bit, leaning back against the window's side, careful with the open part of it.

"Do you think they'll last?" Barty asked suddenly.

Evan turned, raising a single eyebrow.

"For as long as Regulus' conviction can last," he said.

"What could that mean?" Barty asked.

"It means that..." Evan started, but stopped, pushing his lips together while trying to put his thoughts into words. "Regulus' body and soul are completely loyal to Luna and will be for as long as he physically can. And I don't mean it in the sexual way or anything, I mean that he'll hold onto her." He stopped again, crossing his arms and shifting his weight, thinking through his words. "The truth is that Regulus will let go when he needs to hold onto something new."

"Like a wife?"

"Like anything that his family needs," Evan corrected.

Somber, the mood made Barty look down at the ground. His long legs spread out to keep him against the windowsill as his thoughts went deeper.

Slowly, Evan moved to sit beside him. The window wasn't that big, but both of them were lanky people, which meant that they thighs were against one another when he thew his body to the side. It didn't give them enough space to be comfortably spread out, but the there was some familiarity in that proximity.

"I don't think he'd marry just because his mother tells him to," Barty said, but it was wishful thinking.

"I don't think he'd marry just because his mother tells him to, but I think he would if there was more on the game. And we both know how this works, especially when the other side of the rope is slightly thinner – one pull, and it'll break," Evan said, throwing his head back and looking at the ceiling.

"And he's ever so protective."

"Somebody needs to be," Evan said. "My sister has me. Luna doesn't have a brother in my position to do it, that's why the Potters took her in. There are some things that only magical people understand about magic, and no matter how much you and Luna try to convince me, muggles cannot live amongst us happily and safely without them understanding that. Her mother is useless in this. She's just another weapon, or worse, just another weakness for her."

"That's cruel."

"That's the world," Evan said with a shrug. "Don't look at me like that. I didn't make it be like that, I just live in it."

"Happily."

"Comfortably, but not happily," Evan corrected, frowning at his friend. "Do you think so little of me, Barty?"

Barty sighed, looking at the ceiling as his fingers thumbed the side of his trouser near the window, the opposite to Evan's leg. The growing lump on his throat had been threatening to come out for a while at that point.

"You speak very openly about this, and about how everything works, but you don't offer to help Regulus and Luna," Barty finally said.

Evan scoffed.

"What do you want me to do? Kidnap her and help them elope before he gets married to do exactly what every other generation of his family has been doing for before his family even had that bloody name? That's a fairytale! This is reality," Evan asked, astounded. He just stared when Barty didn't answer. "Things like that might work in your romance novels, Barty, but in the world – the real world – the men like you in your romance novels are killed, the men like Regulus are forced into a cycle to make sure people are kept alive and people like me survive. You need to be more realistic. People like us don't get happy endings."

Barty couldn't stop himself; he got up from the sill in a jump, leaning away from his friend as if the touch had suddenly become too much.

"My... intention of companions will not get me killed," Barty said, voice forceful as he shoved it through his teeth. "It's cruel to say so."

Evan's eyes flickered in surprise.

"No! No. Oh, Barty! No, that's not what I meant!" he said, slowly getting up as well. He put his hands on his hips. "Listen –"

Barty crossed his arms, taking a step back once Evan was completely standing. While Barty was clearly taller than his friend, he just didn't have the same power of towering when standing.

"What did you mean, then?" Barty spat towards him.

"I meant dreamers, not... men that like other men," Evan whispered his answer, leaning forward to make sure nobody else would hear. He leaned away, trying to find Barty's evading eyes. "I meant your dreams, not you. Merlin, Barty, never think I would wish that upon on anyone, let alone you. Your lovers are none of my business unless you want them to be my business, and we already know that."

"I –"

"I went to that opera with you. Alone," Evan added, cutting Barty off. "I'd do it again."

It wasn't anything that Barty wouldn't've done with Regulus as well. He could've gone to an opera with his friend without any other companion, but he knew that he would've looked to the side and saw Regulus staring at the play, taking in the story and the characters with the same enthusiasm as any other person – when he had looked to the side, however, he had seen Evan watching him. And the hope... oh, how like flying it felt.

"I would've taken you again," Barty said.

"I liked the story, and the songs. I liked what it had to say. I liked how you liked it," Evan managed to stumble over his words, unsure if Barty would give him space to say. "I don't judge you at all, Barty, when I am like you to some extent, even if I don't have the same name for it as you do."

"What?"

"I do not like men."

"What?!"

"I like... you."

Evan's voice was but a whisper, heavy with the weight of the confession, hands fisted in an attempt of control. That confession was stronger than any curse he could've uttered, stronger than any vow he could've promised – that could get him killed. His heart pounded with the danger.

The whiplash was so great that Barty had to turn around, giving his back to his friend as he tried to remember how to breathe through his nose without feeling like he was drowning in his own thoughts. It felt uncomfortably exposing to receive such a confession, especially when he had been dreaming of it for so long.

"That's not fair," Barty whispered to himself.

Evan walked closer, so close that their shoulders brushed.

"What isn't fair? The world? – Oh, Barty, I can't fix it," Evan lamented, so genuinely that Barty's heart ached.

He turned, looking at the blonde boy.

"They can dance and show the world that no matter how unfair it is, they have each other," Barty said. "Luna and Regulus are so lucky."

"He's a Black, he's lucky in every way that matters but with his own destiny," Evan said.

"And us?"

"We are lucky that we can be honest with each other until the very end of our days," Evan answered, ever so eloquent. "Because you know what I want to mean even when I'm trembling and babbling like a fool, like tonight. And like the night at the opera."

"You were a babbling fool," Barty admitted.

"It's the effect you have on me, and the fact that you didn't notice before it's rather appalling to me," Evan said.

Barty chuckled.

They face one another, a step or two in between them.

"I did notice, but I thought I just influenced you because I was the only boy that liked boys around you that you knew about. I thought you were uncomfortable with me, not because you liked me, but because you didn't want me liking you," Barty admitted.

Evan laughed.

"Oh, how confusing," he said.

"We are."

Evan looked around.

"I can assure you that so are most of the people around there," he said, looking to where the nearest group of ball guests were. "We are not the weird ones, I say. If I took your hand right here and started dancing, they would laugh, but wouldn't dare say anything – they wouldn't even think twice."

He reached for Barty's hand, clearly joking, but Barty pulled his hand away, taking a hurried step back and looking around as well. His father was nowhere to be seen and his mother was on the second floor, probably drinking tea with some of the richer wives, completely bored out of her mind since she hated parties almost as much as Barty. Still, he couldn't let his guard down – he didn't have Rosier's surname to protect himself and his father's career from stupid rumours began by drunk people.

Evan rolled his eyes.

"I could take you outside and dance with you regardless," he teased.

"Somebody'll hear you," Barty said, frowning, slapping his hand away from his again before glaring.

"It's a proper offer. I can just say that I'm teaching you the steps," Evan insisted. "Come on, there'll be a quadrille soon enough, we'll go through the window and –"

"Evan?"

They both froze, eyes widening as they stared at each other.

Dread seeped into their bones as they struggled to turn around once they recognised the voice. Still, they turned, hearts racing as they met the deep, blue eyes that they knew ever so well, accompanied by her thin, disapproving line of lips.

Viscountess Louise Rosier was hardly a warm and inviting mother like in the books, but she was a proper one and her stance made sure to remind Barty exactly whose son he was friends with. She stood still, posed like a queen with her hands together in front of her body with her light-blue dress going down her body and sharpening every angle of her tall, skinny frame with such delicate features that Barty felt wrong for looking at her for too long without her explicit permission.

"My Lady," Barty greeted with a bow.

"Crouch's son, yes. Hello," she muttered with a wave of her hand. "Evan, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be dancing?"

Evan looked between his friend and his mother before clearing his throat.

"A reprieve, Mama," he lied, glancing at the window as if he hadn't thought of running through it just moment before. "Some champagne and we were getting back to find young ladies to impress."

Barty felt his cheeks flushing and he looked down at the ground. He knew Lady Rosier didn't believe that for a second, and she didn't believe it because she was staring at Barty with suspicious interest.

"A young lady named Miss Justice Bulstrode is interested in your acquaintance, son. Do not... dwell on friends that you can see at your dormitory. You have proper duties to fulfil," she said, voice slow and deliberate. There was some genuine sweetness there, much to the boys' surprise. "A dance would be proper and enough. Mrs Bulstrode is, unfortunately, rather busy with her upcoming divorce and should be resting away from the crowd but wished her daughter's new yellow dress to be seen."

"Yes, one cannot miss a yellow dress," Evan said, bitterly.

His mother narrowed her eyes at him.

"I'm certain Mister Crouch will still be here when the quadrille is over, unless he plans on dancing with a young lady himself," Louise said, raising her eyebrows at the other boy. "I'm certain I can arrange an introduction, Mister Crouch."

"I'm well where I am, My Lady, thank you," Barty choked out.

"A pity. A handsome boy like you shouldn't be wasting away like a wallflower," she said kindly. Barty looked up at her again. "Some efforts are worth it."

"Dancing is just not the sort of effort I'm accustomed to," Barty lied.

"Oh, how interesting. I thought I heard my son offering to teach you the dance," she said.

Barty felt his stomach drop.

Evan rolled his eyes dramatically, putting his hands on his hips and shifting his weigh from leg to leg until somebody paid attention to him.

"Mama, we both know that I'm the one that likes to dance. Unfortunately, to dance with young ladies I have to talk to their mamas, which is cumbersome – to dance with a friend is so much easier," he said.

His mother sighed, almost as if disappointed that he had interrupted whatever it was that she was trying to get from Barty.

"Well, unfortunately you cannot dance with your friends in public balls, darling," she said, sharply.

"Private soirées it is next time," Evan dismissed.

"Evan!"

"Mama, where is Miss Bulstrode? Why don't we relieve her from her dancing duties soon so she and her ghastly yellow dress can go home and sulk about her parents' divorce?" Evan said just as sharply.

Louise Rosier took a step forward and hissed air through her teeth, making both boys freeze in place, unsure of her next step. But all she did was lean in slightly, face to face with Evan.

"You'll not be dancing. We shall be going home right away, and I shall talk to your father about your manners, young man," she threatened.

Evan's lips twitched, all façade of calm and forceful temper disappearing for a moment before he forced another calm smile, curling the sides of his face until his eyes wrinkled into a fake and completely unnerving smile.

"I cannot wait," he spat towards her.

His mother turned around and stomped away as gracefully as someone like her could've done.

Barty blinked, still feeling his joints hurting from tension.

"Evan –" he started.

Evan did not look at him.

"Perhaps it's for the best if you go, Barty. I'll write," he said, watching his mother cross the ballroom in silence.

They both knew it would take at least a few days before he would be allowed to write to anybody at all after that little tantrum.

3) Morning After the Ball

TW: (most tws are implied here) SEXUAL CONTENT, DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, CHILD ABUSE. EXPLICIT VIOLENCE

There was a time in her life that waking up alone and naked in her own bed was the worst nightmare that a young Walburga Black could muster, but waking up without her husband beside her was worse, even if she could still feel the remains of their passion from the night before against her and the sheets underneath her. She would hate to admit it, but she rather liked when he would cling to her, holding her gently until she slept or until they woke up.

Waking up alone was saddening after so many years of waking up beside him more often than the contrary.

Slowly, she sat up, dragging the sheets against her chest along as she looked at the empty room.

It was early morning, that much was clear by the position the sun was in through the windows, bathing the room in sunlight. Still, her head was hurting a bit due to the mixture of alcohol, annoyance and the late night of sleep from before.

After the ball was over, she had attempted to make Regulus speak to his father of the scandalous dance between him and his partner, but both Orion and Regulus had shut her out, insisting that it wasn't as bad as she had felt it had been, but she had seen how women were whispering and pointing and she had seen Euphemia Potter's eye twitching in concerning at some point, she knew she was in the right. But soon enough Regulus went to sleep – a lie, she was certain – and it left Orion and her alone in the parlour, speaking of politics of all things.

Orion's opinion on Ireland's entrance at the parliament was completely useless now that it already happened, but he was unhappy about it and was clear. He had tried to go back to drinking his concerns away, which led her to accompany him...

Which led her to his arms.

And to her naked form.

Not that they needed alcohol to demonstrate some sort of passion for the last few years, but it was certainly easier to explain what she wanted and to do what he wished when they were looser around the edges.

Carefully, she pushed her legs to the side, sitting on the edge of the bed and sighing.

Had she not been the Mistress of the House and had to entertain in case of any calls, she would've gone back to bed.

POP!

Walburga jumped, eyes widening as they flew to doors of the bedroom, seeing an embarrassed Kreacher not looking at her while twisting the edges of his pillowcase, shifting uncomfortably from one side to the other.

"What?!" she snapped.

"Mistress has a caller, Mistress has," Kreacher said, lamenting. "Kreacher said Mistress was indisposed, but he won't go."

"And my husband?" she asked, frowning. "Who is this caller?"

"Mister Cygnus, Mistress' brother. He's being loud. He'll wake Young Master Regulus if Mistress doesn't come, he's drunk, he is!" Kreacher said.

Annoyed, Walburga's eyes ran around the room.

"Tell him I'll be down in a minute. I'm getting up," she muttered.

Kreacher popped away as quickly as he appeared, leaving her alone to dress in a hurry before Cygnus got tired of waiting.

It wasn't the best, but getting into her nightgown was quick enough. She put on her silk robes over the lacy, long nightgown and tied it firmly around her waist to make sure she was covered. She wanted to wash herself and get dressed, perhaps even fix the mess that her hair looked like but there was no time – not when her drunk brother could simply do whatever he wanted while she left him waiting.

Cygnus wasn't one to call on people. If he was there, there was a reason. If he was there, drunk at eight something in the morning, something was happening, and it was something that she needed to resolve.

Walburga slipped out of her bedroom, glancing across the corridor as she went down the stairs to see her son's bedroom door closed, so she kept on walking. Looking down with frowned eyebrows when she saw that Cygnus wasn't waiting for her in the parlour or morning room, as expected, but at the foot of the stairs.

"Sweet sister!" he greeted loudly.

He wore white for the most part, casual wizarding robes with nice collars and some beautifully coloured blue details on sleeves. There was red lipstick on his collar, neck and on the small space of skin appearing on his chest. He leaned against the wall at the foot of the stairs, stumbling to the side.

"What are you wearing?" she asked, lip curling. "Did you come from a brothel?"

"I did, actually!" he said, smiling. "I'm surprised you know they exist. Perhaps Orion is a lot more fun than I expected."

Disgusted by the smell of bourbon on her brother's breath, Walburga held onto the barrister of the stairs, refusing to step down many more. If she did that, she would be smaller than him, and she didn't trust that to be a good idea.

"Cygnus, this is absurd. What is happened to you?" Walburga asked, frowning. "Isn't your wife enough? And when she isn't enough, isn't your paramour, which you share a house with, enough either?"

Cygnus rolled his eyes.

"I have heard about your little attempt of matchmaking yesterday going wrong," he said.

Walburga pressed her lips together.

"And where did you hear that if you were in a brothel? What were they saying of good, proper events happening in the real world?" she asked, annoyed.

He stepped up on the stairs. She held her breath, stomach rolling violently at the sickly smell of feminine perfume – Veela scent had been added to it so strongly that even she would be slightly affected by it.

"Everybody was mocking you," he said, smirking. "My poor, baby sister. Foolish little girl she is, trying to save our family's reputation by ruining someone else's. If someone in a relationship looked that beautiful and desirable, there is some attempt of disrespect that you could claim. You wanted people to want Regulus' girl, right? It sort of worked. Men are interested now. She's a precious little thing, I'm certain, but I need to ask him about it later."

Walburga looked to the other side, turning her face away from him when he got even closer.

"That's not what I wanted," she said. "I wanted to find her a good enough suitor that she would cease of dreaming of this impossible relationship."

Cygnus clicked his tongue slowly, shaking his head slowly.

"No, no. No need to be coy, Bria. I know you well," he dismissed her worries. "The girl's a hussy, for all we know. You certainly hope she is, because that means that Regulus will be bored soon enough and will find something else to distract himself with. A warm cunt is not enough –"

"Hold your tongue to speak of my son and his partner!" Walburga said, pushing her brother away.

Cygnus laughed, throwing his head back. He mocked her by raising his head as if he would lose his balance, but he barely shifted.

Slipping by the older and bigger man, Walburga walked away from the stairs and walked to the door of the parlour. She pulled them open and waited for him to walk in, but when he didn't, she turned to see him watching her.

"You're not pitying the girl now, are you? You didn't pity her last night when you dressed her to be gossiped and whispered about," Cygnus said, smirking a bit.

"A bit of gossip and whispers never killed someone's reputation without some truth behind it," Walburga said.

And Luna Lupin would've been fine doing exactly what she had been doing that night: dancing and talking normally. If she did it with other boys, then they would've understood that they had a chance as well and, soon enough – when everything between her and Regulus ended – she would've found a good man to keep her afloat until she managed to keep on living in Alchemy, if that's indeed what she wanted. Everything would've been fine.

"But when it's my reputation it puts the whole family in danger? Oh, Bria, you are quite the character!" Cygnus teased.

"Because in your case it's true. You are a rake, dissolute and immoral! And, finally, it's coming back to haunt our family. And as Mistress of the House, I'm the one having to fix your mess," she accused, glaring fiercely. "You married a woman because Father told you to, wonderfully done – yes, congratulation on doing your duty with three children. A pity you didn't manage boys, but it's not their fault. You had no right to hit them and threaten them in the way you did, but we did nothing because that your family and we had no control over it, I spent the first years of my marriage making sure your children would have somewhere to go in case you ever crossed the life. And they did. Time and time again, I remember quite well waking up Bellatrix ran to hide in here in the middle of the night. We stayed quiet! And when, finally, you looked like a resemble of a happy man with a paramour, we covered for you as well – even your own wife had to admit that you were happier with the much younger woman that nobody is sure where you met, and that it was for the better."

"That's none of your business!"

"And then your wife finds some comfort in someone else, and you can't bare it!" Walburga accused, pointing her finger at him. "Abraxas Malfoy or anyone else, it would've been the same reaction."

Cygnus' nose flared as he stomped forward.

"You don't know what you're talking about," he roared.

"Don't I?"

"My wife cheated on me with our daughter's father-in-law!"

"And you cheated on her for years, publicly, before you went and found a mistress – even more publicly!" Walburga said. "And kept on sleeping with several other whores, apparently, since you brought the smell of the whole French brothel on you to my house."

Cygnus scoffed, shaking his head.

"You wouldn't understand," he grumbled.

"I understand!"

"You are a woman."

"I am a person, which you often seem to forget," she snapped. "I'm your sister. I'm doing what I can to protect you and our family."

"I don't need your protection!" he said, slamming his hand on the wall.

He was acting like he did when he was a teenager, wildly articulating his thoughts and feelings with his hands, slamming on things to make sure his point was heard when his father would ignore him. It usually worked. But his sister was stronger than Pollux, she didn't just sit and wait for him to finish talking – no, she was ever as much the teenage girl that he had to force down the aisle.

"DO NOT SLAM YOUR HAND IN MY HOUSE, CYGNUS!" she shrieked.

"YOU SPEAK OF PROTECTION FOR THE FAMILY BUT YOU DIDN'T CARE ABOUT THE FAMILY WHEN YOUR HUSBAND WAS COMING WITH ME TO THE BROTHELS, FUCKING EVERY SINGLE WHORE THAT COULD REMIND HIM OF HER. YOU STAYED HOME AND WAITED – WHY WOULDN'T MY WIFE DO THE SAME?"

"I TOLD MY HUSBAND HE COULD DO AS HE WISHED SO AS LONG AS HE DIDN'T TOUCH ME! AND HE DID WHAT HE HAD TO DO."

Cygnus' laugh was so loud that even he seemed surprised, but Walburga didn't, she just stepped forward towards him and glared.

"You didn't have a choice, Bria," Cygnus said.

"I did in my bed. I did in my house," she said, not looking away from him. "And I continue doing so. Ergo, we don't cheat on each other, and why our reputation is spotless."

The slap was so sudden that Walburga didn't even know what had happened until she was on the ground, a loud yelp escaping her ajar lips.

All she knew was the pain burning the side of her face, her knees aching from where she had been thrown to the ground and the complete and utter shock that her brother had dared to raise his hand to her.

But all was damped by her ire.

She had not felt so young in a long time, but with a pathetic battle-cry she jumped from the ground with hands in claws, finding her brother's hair and pulling violently towards the ground, using her weight and his surprise to get him to fall as well. However, even surprised by her counterattack, he was a strong man and quickly pushed her to the side, getting on top of her and raising his hand again, preparing for another slap as her legs kicked, trying to get him away from her before he could touch her.

She knew her mistake when the roar in the room wasn't her, but Regulus'.

Walburga had never seen her son look so adult before.

Regulus Black really was Orion Black's son.

He had raised Cygnus by the back of his shirt and threw him to the side, letting the grown man hit the wall of the parlour with such violence that he had to gasp for air. But Regulus didn't give him enough time to recover or think of his next move, because his wand was digging into Cygnus' neck so forcefully that the skin turned red immediately.

"Regulus!" Walburga said, scrambling to get up. Regulus slammed his uncle against the wall again. "Oh, Regulus. It's alright!"

"Mother, are you alright?" he asked, but didn't turn to look at her.

"It's alright. It's alright," she said, fixing her robes around herself. She could taste blood. "We were having a... discussion."

Cygnus laughed breathlessly. Regulus fixed his grip on his wand, making the older man choke a bit.

"I –" started the man.

Regulus glared.

"You will shut the fuck up until I decide I want to talk to you, you piece of shit," he spat towards him, still staring. "Didn't your father tell you to never hit women? You want to hit someone, you come to me – I'll fight back a lot better, and I can assure you that you'll enjoy it a lot less."

Walburga's hands were shaking, she realised when she looked down. And there was blood – where did that came from? Oh. Her lip. Her bottom lip was bleeding, and it was dripping onto her lap and hands.

"Everything's alright," Walburga would parrot time and time again.

Her brother had hit her before. After all, Cygnus had hit most of the members of the House of Black before, and she was his sister, she was no exception. He had slapped her in the face, grabbed her by the arms, screamed so loudly into her ears that they would ring when she refused to marry. She had fought back then, she had slapped, scratched, yelled and cried; she had even threatened to go on a hunger strike. But this time it felt different.

She was married now, and she was a mother. She was supposed to not care for his opinion and his punishments anymore, because he wasn't supposed to be able to control her in such a manner. To be caught up in his physical punishment was more than anger-inducing, it was absolutely embarrassing – she was the Duchess. He had no right to touch her.

"Mother? Please, talk to me," Regulus said, finally looking away from his uncle.

He had been calling for her and she hadn't been answering.

She shook her head, trying to focus.

"Yes... I'm alright. I'm alright," she said.

Cygnus moved.

Regulus stepped back, letting the man take a deep breath, but not putting his wand down at all.

"You'll leave now," Regulus said.

"Your mother and I are resolving –"

"I don't fucking care what you think you're doing here, drunk as you are at this time of the morning. Grandfather could be dying; you could be here to warn us, and I'd turn you away. I don't want you in my house," Regulus said.

Cygnus reached for his pocket. Regulus' grip on his wand tightened, but he allowed his uncle to take what he wanted from his back trousers' pocket, throwing it at him.

"There, boy. What I wanted to give to your mother if she fucking listened like a good girl," he said.

"Remember your place. She's the Lady of the House," Regulus warned.

Walburga stumbled, getting to the sofa and putting a hand on the back of it. She kept on standing, even if she wanted to sit down. For now, she needed to focus on not throwing up on the ground.

"Walburga –" Cygnus pointed.

"Don't look at her. Don't talk to her," Regulus said, stepping to the side and getting in the way of his uncle's view. "If the matter you came here to discuss is already finished, you can leave now. Or I'll make you."

"You're brave to talk to me like this, boy," Cygnus said, lip curling.

Regulus made a loud noise that sounded like a mock of Cygnus' own laugh, but certainly wasn't his real laugh.

"I'm the Heir of the House. I shall be Duke one day, and you shall be nothing at all if not someone that works for me, not with me. I don't need bravery to talk to you like this; it's my birthright, and something that I should've been doing for a long time at this point, give your manners towards me," Regulus said.

Cygnus tried to look at Walburga again, but she wasn't looking at him at all.

She still stood, falsely casually holding onto the back of the lounging sofa, looking like the very piece of a pureblood wife if not for the bleeding lip, pale face and wide, confused eyes. It was like watching a sloppy version of the paintings that Alphard would have to paint to gather some pocket money when he went overboard with his expenses in parties and soirées.

"Why did you come here?" Regulus asked.

"To tell your mother to stop meddling with my life and my wife's life, our marriage is our business alone. To tell your mother to start spending more time in bed with your father because his political pursuits are no longer aligning with the family's decisions. To tell your mother that keeping your whore in your bed for the best for the time being. To give that, on your hand, to your mother – a little friend of mine's address, someone that can teach her or your little friend a thing or two," Cygnus spat towards his nephew. He made a little stumble to the side as he faked a bow. "My Lord."

Even with the clear provocations, Regulus did not blink.

"You said your piece. You may leave and not come back," Regulus said coldly.

Cygnus made a little noise, turning around on his ankles towards the door.

"Your father will hear of this, Regulus," Cygnus said. The threat held to effect.

"He will. And he'll know you're no longer welcome in this house," Regulus said. "And you're receive the proper punishment for raising your hand against the Lady of the House by its Lord, not its Heir."

"You father will understand my side. He's a grown man," Cygnus dismissed.

Regulus made a noncommittal noise.

"If you think that when I tell him that you hit his wife to the ground in her own parlour after she tried to help your reputation from getting ruined, he'll stay on your side, then you're a foolishly man, Cygnus," he said. His gaze was so cold that it was like he was looking through him. "Mother did what she... thinks best because three of your partners are threatening to withdraw from your contracts. Nobody wants to be associated with the man that cheats on their wife, not even at work."

And it was clear.

Cygnus held no support in his family nor work. He had nowhere to go but to his knees.