Monday 14th February, 1977. Hogwarts, Slytherin dungeon.

After an all-too-quiet day, devoid of the dreaded Valentine's Day slushes, Alya was enjoying the warmth of the fire gushing from the marble fireplace in the Slytherin common room.

With a lazy glance, she studied the time marked by the snake-shaped hands of the wall clock.

It was almost ten o'clock. All her companions had already taken refuge in their respective rooms, but Alya had remained where she was, placidly sitting on the black leather sofa. Even Philippa, Melyssa and Beth had preceded her. After all, it was young Black herself who had given them such instructions. That evening she and Maynard Nott had arranged to meet in front of the sumptuous marble fireplace; the boy's plan was to spend a few romantic moments with his algid and beautiful girlfriend.

Alya had escaped with relief the cloying tantrums she feared she would receive during the day, but she could not escape that appointment. A deliberate refusal on the Valentine's Day would surely have sent Nott over the edge.

Alya wasn't enthusiastic about the evening programme that awaited her, yet she reluctantly consented to the fate that her role as fiancée imposed on her.

At ten o'clock on the dot, Maynard Nott appeared in all his finery in the common room, wrapped in an impeccable black suit.

Alya, who hadn't minded such finery, hadn't bothered to change her clothes, remaining in her school uniform.

"Forgive me for keeping you waiting," he exclaimed, his voice gallant and set.

"You're right on time, Maynard. As always," Alya reassured him, casting a glance at the wall clock. If Nott had one virtue, it was surely his ability to arrive on time, smashing the minute, to any appointment.

Only Quidditch slowed him down.

"Anyway, you didn't need to dress up like this. We're in our common room, not in a noblemen's restaurant," she scolded him, considering her knight's attire excessive.

But Nott answered her with a winking, haughty smile.

"Well, we are noble people," the boy pointed out. "Besides, it's Valentine's Day and I wanted to make this evening special... I wanted to surprise you." declared Nott, going to sit down next to Alya, encircling her shoulders with a gesture that shone a little too confidently.

"It won't be a nice tailored suit which will leave me speechless," the girl teased him, in a defiant mood.

"I suspected as much," agreed Nott, with a grin. He slipped his hand into one of his trouser pockets and pulled out a small package, wrapped in shimmering emerald-green wrapping paper and bundled with silver ribbon, a clear reminder of the Slytherin colours.

"For you." he announced triumphantly, handing the package to the girl, who stared at him dumbfounded. Even though it was Valentine's Day and she knew that boyfriends were in the habit of exchanging romantic thoughts, she hadn't given the slightest thought to procuring a gift to give to her knight. Part of her had also hoped not to receive one herself.

Trying not to let her reluctance show, Alya grabbed the package and stood still, staring at it doubtfully. From the fine wrapping alone, she could tell that it was certainly not a small gift bought in some little shop in Hogsmeade.

"Open it!" urged Nott, eagerly, not ceasing to flash her perfect, gleaming teeth with a smile.

Alya began to unwrap the emerald paper, from which a glittering silver box emerged. The girl opened it and a wonderful iridescent bracelet appeared before the young Black's incredulous gaze. The jewel presented the features of a silver snake, of refined and elegant workmanship; the two ends of the bracelet reproduced the likeness of the reptile's head and tail respectively, and on the top of the head, two small emeralds had been set, as well as the snake's eyes, which glittered brightly under the greenish light emanating from the black chandeliers of the room.

"Stretch out your arm," Maynard urged her promptly, growing more and more full of himself.

Alya obeyed, extending her hand towards the chest. With a sudden flick, the bracelet hovered in mid-air for a brief second, spreading its coil like a snake, then twisted around Alya's slender wrist, fitting perfectly around her circumference.

With an enchanted gaze, Alya gazed at the elegant jewel that now delicately encircled her arm.

"It is white gold. Very fine and skilfully worked," Nott was careful to point out. Nott had observed with minute attention all the movements of the bracelet and the various shades of astonishment that had coloured the girl's face.

"It's lovely, Maynard, I mean it." murmured Alya, as she brushed her fingers over the cold precious surface of the serpentine jewel, feeling increasingly guilty for not having considered buying her boyfriend even a chocolate from Mielandia. The romantic streak seemed to be completely alien to her.

"I had it specially sent to me from Italy. From Florence, to be exact." continued Nott, sporting all her rich snob air. "Have you ever been to Florence, Alya?" he then asked, addressing the maiden.

Alya shyly nodded her head: she was totally inexperienced and unprepared about foreign travel. Her family had never crossed the borders of Great Britain.

"Well, I have. Several times, in fact. I used to go there every summer with my parents as a kid," Nott explained, proudly strutting. "It is a magnificent place, every nook and cranny is imbued with art and magic. Italian magicians possess the rare ability to combine these two elements sublimely."

Although annoyed by the boy's ostentatious arrogance, Alya listened to him filled with interest and curiosity. Tales about foreign and distant countries fascinated her beyond measure.

"There is a bridge in Florence, called Ponte Vecchio, dotted with small, old shops, dedicated to the creation of jewellery. Most of them are run by ordinary Muggles, but there is one in particular that belongs to an ancient lineage of wizard-goldsmiths. It is said that an old ancestor of the family had the honour of studying the art directly from the Goblins, and that this knowledge of the craft has been passed down from generation to generation, right up to the present day," Maynard recounted, giving himself airs of an expert.

"My father and the head shopkeeper are old friends. When I wrote to him what I had in mind for this day - yes, I told my parents about us, don't roll your eyes - my old man wasted no time and immediately got in touch with his magician-goldsmith friend, commissioning and having sent directly from Florence the bracelet you are now wearing,' Nott concluded, with a smug expression.

"I see you spared no expense," Alya commented, with veiled irony. A part of her was beginning to feel uneasy. She had made up her mind about Maynard, and over the months she had realised that the scion of House Nott never did anything for nothing. He tried to take advantage of every situation. And that gift was just too pretentious not to sense that Nott was up to something.

"Too bad I'm not allowed to wear such prodigious jewellery. My mother and her inflexible discipline devoted to sobriety would not accept it," said the girl, with a not too bitter smile.

"I am sure that not even the strict Mrs Black will object to this gift. As soon as you tell her who you received it from and why," Nott observed, his lips rippling with a swaggering grin. Alya returned it with a puzzled and slightly fearful look.

"I've got plans regarding our future, Alya. And I think the time has come to make our relationship official. As I told you earlier, I have already talked to my family about our union and I think you should do the same with your parents." the boy sentenced, in a decidedly authoritative tone.

Alya felt the ground drop from under her feet, her throat suddenly went dry, making it impossible for her to swallow. Make their union official? She didn't want to make anything official at all!

For a moment, she had the impression that the air around her had become incredibly stifling.

Maynard, misunderstanding the real reasons that had made the girl suddenly pale as a rags, tried to reassure her:

"Don't make that face! You have nothing to fear. I'm sure your family will be more than agreeable and happy to hear about us. Your parents will immediately agree to our engagement. Black and Nott are two ancient and important surnames. Uniting them will only increase the prestige of both our families!"

Engagement? A shiver of panic ran through her body, like a painful electric shock, while a heavy sense of oppression lapped at her insides. The feeling that someone was throwing her with impunity into a dark and narrow prison, trapped and hunted for life, began to grow heavier and heavier, and her breath caught in her throat.

Part of her wanted to throw her beautiful Italian bracelet in Nott's face, scream at him that she had no intention of making their relationship official and run as far away as possible from the clutches of that snooty, self-absorbed boy, who without any right had already taken it into his head to decide Alya's future.

However, as always happened to her when her rebellious spirit tried to emerge, her mother's inflexible and harsh little voice had begun to snake threateningly through her thoughts, admonishing her about her duties to hold high the honour and prestige of the Black lineage. And as the only female child of her clan, betrothal - and consequently, marriage - to the heir of one of the most prominent and wealthiest pure families of high magical society was surely the best way to fulfil that duty.

Alya stared once more at the precious serpentine figure that encircled her wrist. She sighed with an air of surrender, resigned to the inevitability of her fate. Apparently, she could no longer back down and now her task was to unite her path with that of Maynard Nott, so as to ensure perpetual purity in her family's line of descent.

"I think you're right after all. When I return to Grimmauld Place for the Easter holidays, I will announce our union to my parents." said Alya, in a faint voice, a little choked, however much she tried to hide it.

"Why not do it now? Easter is still quite far away. Just send them a letter explaining the situation," protested Nott, annoyed that he could not immediately get what he wanted.

"Because this is an important matter and I don't want to communicate it by letter. I wish to announce this engagement..." the girl had difficulty swallowing, as if an invisible toad was stuck in her throat. "... in person. Do things properly, do you understand me?" insisted young Black, trying to untangle as best she could the knot that was kneading her mouth.

The answer seemed to convince the noble scion, who smiled and nodded in satisfaction.

"As you wish, then," whispered the boy, drawing his face unhesitatingly close to that of the maiden. "We really must celebrate, at this point." he concluded, before gluing his cold lips to those of Alya, who was fighting a hard fight against her own reluctance.

Maynard proved more daring and eager than on the other occasions when he had shown his usually gallant and carefully set romantic side. The boy's arms encircled young Black's waist with almost overbearing force, as if he did not want to allow her to escape.

The movements of the kiss were excited, voracious, impatient. Nott seemed to want to devour her.

Suddenly, without any delicacy, a hand left its grip on Alya's waist and began to move with swaggering arrogance over her body, giving the impression that he was moving on her property.

When she felt Nott's hand rest on her blouse, at breast height, Alya reacted impulsively, violently shaking off the boy's presence.

"What the hell is in your head?" growled young Black, furious and even a little frightened. Her silver eyes gushed with anger.

"I thought we agreed to take our relationship to the next level," huffed Nott, visibly displeased by the maiden's reaction.

"That's not what I meant when I talked about making our engagement official," hissed Alya, indignant.

"What a fuss! Come on, come here, don't be shy. Don't you want to have some fun?" said Maynard, with an eerie grin plastered on his face, enough to send shivers down your spine. He reached out an arm to grasp Alya's body again, but she snapped promptly, quick as a frightened feline.

"Don't you dare come near! Keep your hands off me!" she hissed, as with a swift gesture she flashed her wand in her hands, in defence.

Maynard Nott froze for a moment, staring with his dark, cold eyes into the girl's heated face. There was no repentance in her expression. Nor any desire to apologise. Nor understanding. Nott's face looked as hard and blank as a piece of icy marble, finely carved, but devoid of any emotion.

Only a faint tinge of contempt seemed to cross the cruel gaze of the rejected scion.

"Whatever," he replied in a monotone. "Honestly, Alya, I didn't think you were so frigid. However, we will have other opportunities to explore this further." he added with a practicality so ruthless, it made Alya's blood run cold. She felt completely trapped. It was clear that Maynard Nott had every intention of getting, sooner or later, and by any means, what he wanted.

"Anyway, your childish protests have really tired me out. I'm off to bed. Good night." concluded the boy with a detached manner, his voice cold and malignant.

Maynard Nott rose from the black leather sofa and vanished into the darkness above the mahogany staircase, back to his own dormitory.

Alya stood alone in the common room, her wand still outstretched in front of her, shrouded in a putrid sense of anger that belied humiliation and fear. Only after a few moments spent staring into the void in front of her did the maiden realise she was trembling.

She lowered her wand again, looking around like a frightened and helpless animal. Then, the sudden fear soon gave way to a burning rage. Alya clenched her fists tightly, railing against herself for not having lunged at Nott.

The only thing she wanted now was revenge, to make him pay for what he had even dared to think of doing to her.

But Maynard Nott had promptly fled; Alya could hardly barge into the dormitory where she was staying and hurl a painful bill at him in front of her comrades, who would in all likelihood have backed her friend up and laughed at her for not indulging the handsome scion.

Alya had to inhale and exhale deeply several times before she managed to quell the raging anger that bubbled threateningly at the pit of her stomach.

Disgusted, she repressed the annoying spasm of a conat and, with it, the bitter urge to burst into tears. She had never felt so humiliated. And dirty. Even the black leather sofa she sat on, the sumptuous common room she was in, made her sick to her stomach.

Taking refuge in her rooms, where her other companions had been snoozing with gusto for minutes now, was out of the question; Alya certainly wouldn't have been able to sleep a wink.

She had to leave. Immediately. Get some air. Alone.

Instinctively, she grabbed her bag and quickly slipped out of the common room. For a while, she wandered confused and aimlessly in the castle dungeons, shrouded in the cold darkness that hovered in the corridors below.

She didn't know where to go or what to do. For a moment, she considered the option of sneaking into the Forbidden Forest, as she was wont to do when she was feeling down or longing for solitude. In fact, the mere idea of hiding among the dark tangles of the forest and reading her beloved Muggle adventure book already brought her a vague relief.

She opened her bag and slipped her hand into it, searching for the familiar cover.

However, something else came to the touch of her hand: the crunch of a hastily made packet containing a couple of sultana sweets reminded young Black of the commitment she had made to herself that morning and had yet to complete.

After all, the Forbidden Forest could wait.

Alya decided to go to another place. She began to run, well aware now of her destination: the West Tower of Hogwarts.

***

Monday 14th February, 1977. Hogwarts, Gryffindor Tower.

"I'll tell you again, Padfoot. My guess is that McKinnon was expecting a present. I mean, it's still Valentine's Day. Girls care about that sort of thing."

"You say it's because of this nonsense that she stopped speaking to me?" huffed Sirius, from atop the bunk bed he shared with James in the Gryffindor men's dormitory. At the same height, a couple of metres away, Remus Lupin's stern gaze scolded him for his failings as a gentleman.

"At least a flower, Padfoot, or a packet of sweets from Honeyducks - Just to let her know that at least for a second you thought of her, on Valentine's Day."

Sirius replied, simulating the gesture of vomiting.

"Such cheesy phrases shouldn't come out of a werewolf's mouth, Moony! I marvel at you!" he blurted, feigning indignation.

Remus, irritated, threw a book straight in his face in response.

"I'm the one who marvels at me, still wasting my time while trying to help you save your relationship with Marlene!"

From under the four-poster bed, with the red-gold curtains partially drawn, James Potter burst into a big laugh.

"Leave him alone, Moony! You know Padfoot is a total landslide when it comes to romance," he commented in an affectionate tone.

"Besides, Marlene and I don't have any relationship! We've just having fun," Sirius pointed out, impatient.

James smiled again, silently.

Having always been his best friend, James knew him all too well by now and knew that Sirius harboured a real revulsion towards any kind of relationships, except for his friends. Rebel, grumpy and endowed with a sharp wit, which he knew how to use to good effect, Sirius Black had always found considerable success with girls. However, the idea of permanently relationship with someone and of acting like a boyfriend annoyed Sirius almost as much as an outbreak of hives.

He had dated quite a few girls. But they had always been sporadic and purely physical encounters. The on-again, off-again relationship with Marlene McKinnon was actually the longest Sirius had ever had, but James suspected that it was directly proportional to the blonde girl's tenacity in always hovering over the handsome and unattainable Black and her ability to always be ready and available when certain cravings were aroused in Sirius.

For Sirius, it was all about comfortable fun. Marlene McKinnon, on the other hand, clearly had quite different aims, involving white dresses, promises and rings. James shook his head bitterly.

Poor McKinnon, she really has no idea who she's dealing with.

Sirius wasn't going to be easily taken in, and the dishevelled young Gryffindor was already predicting a future of tears and broken hearts for the blonde girl. But James didn't feel sorry for her too much: that was Sirius' way and no one would be able to change his nature.

The only one who seemed to really care about the unattainable and gloomy Black's sentimental situation was Remus, who, due to his innate sensitivity, was concerned about his friend's fate. After Sirius' final separation from his despicable family, and his subsequent exile from the Black lineage, it was now more than ever Remus' prerogative to find Sirius a solid bond, one that could be a firm and secure point for him in this world where dark and dangerous forces now swirled daily.

A stable relationship with Marlene seemed a plausible solution.

Too bad that the more Remus insisted on this point, the more reticent Sirius became.

"Well, a nice gesture once in a while wouldn't hurt, Padfoot. After all, you know that Marlene cares a lot about you," she scolded him again, in a serious voice.

"At least you, Wormtail, agree like, don't you?" he added, turning his pale, dark-eye-scarred face towards his shy, chubby friend.

"Oh, of course!" squeaked, unsure, Peter Pettigrew, who had not expected to be taken to task in that speech; about the subject he was totally inexperienced. "You and McKinnon make such a beautiful couple!" he exclaimed, looking at Sirius filled with reverence.

"Give me a break!" he grumbled, exasperated, turning on his side, his back to Remus and Peter's bed. It was his way of ending the speech.

Peter winced, worried that he had offended his friend in some way; Remus snorted resignedly.

After wishing each other a quick good night - Sirius, still visibly annoyed, merely grunted in the manner of a troll - the candle lights were extinguished and the red-gold curtains of the four-poster beds were drawn completely.

Within a matter of minutes, the faint sound of heavy breathing, interspersed with Sirius' loud snoring, quickly invaded the room.

Everyone had fallen sound asleep.

Everyone except James.

Hidden by the heavy curtains of the bed, he kept the tip of his illuminated wand glued against the porous surface of the Marauder's Map.

From behind his round glasses, the boy scrutinised all the names which appeared, thanks to a rather complicated spell, within the perimeters of the school, drawn on the enchanted parchment.

Inevitably, his hazel eyes darted to a corner of the map, where the dungeon area was depicted.

The Slytherin common room.

There, two names had caught the Gryffindor's eye: Maynard Nott and Alya Merope Black.

James stared at them, wondering with growing annoyance why those two hadn't gone to sleep yet.

Well, they are engaged, after all. And today is Valentine's Day...

An inner little voice prodded him mischievously with any hypotheses which might have kept Alya Merope Black and the obnoxious Maynard Nott up late in their common room. Determined not to heed the answers the little voice tried to suggest to him in this regard, James found himself stiffened, his eyes narrowed into two slits, staring furiously and menacingly at Nott's name.

How he wished he could have been in that dark common room, and put a stop to whatever was going on in there. However, the Gryffindor dared not dwell too much on why he wanted to meddle in that matter so badly.

A fierce battle soon began to rage between James and his inner voice, inside his brain:

Why do you care who the Slytherin girl spends her evenings with?

She's Sirius' sister!

But Sirius hates her.

I should talk to him, he's wrong about her.

He wouldn't listen to you.

I'm his best mate! And she's his sister!

I already told you, Sirius hates her.

Then I have to find a way to talk to her.

Sirius'd hit you.

What if I don't care?

He's your best mate!

Some sudden movements within the Map put an end to James' heated inner discussion. Apparently, the dot representing Maynard Nott (how James wished he could squash that dot!) had just moved away from his position, heading quickly towards the Slytherin male dorms.

With bated breath, the Gryffindor kept his gaze glued on Alya's name, almost without blinking. He expected the girl to imitate her obnoxious boyfriend by going to her room; however, the young Black's dot did not move. She remained motionless for several interminable seconds.

Then, James saw her turn around and, instead of heading for the girls' dormitory of Slytherin, Alya walked out of the common room, plunging into the darkness of the dungeon.

Without realising it, James had impetuously risen to sit on the bed, his eyes still fixed on the Marauder's Map, intent on studying Alya's strange and unpredictable movements.

A mysterious sense of relief, meanwhile, made him relax his muscles that had previously stiffened at the sight of Alya and Nott together. If she had decided to wander around the castle at night without worrying about the rules and curfew, it could mean that something must have disturbed her; perhaps, she and Nott had quarrelled.

At that thought, who knows why, James found himself smiling with satisfaction.

Sirius' sister shouldn't be hanging around with such riffraff! he promptly lied to himself, as he followed with a curious gaze the path drawn by Alya Merope Black's dot as she moved swiftly along the Marauder's Map, towards the western part of the castle.

The Owlery! She's going to the Owlery! exulted James, inwardly.

In the blink of an eye, he had already slipped out of the four-poster bed and wrapped himself in his magical Invisibility Cloak, which he always kept ready under his pillow, just in case.

James rushed first out of the dormitory, then out of the Gryffindor Tower (ignoring, as usual, the Fat Lady's shrieks of disapproval) and caromed down the stairs and through the corridors of the school, towards the West Tower of Hogwarts.

As he hurriedly ran, he glanced at his magic map from time to time, to keep track of young Black's path.

There was no doubt about it, Alya was indeed heading towards the castle's Owlery. Alone. James felt a new enthusiasm grow in his chest. This was the perfect opportunity to make that contact, which the Gryffindor found he wanted more than he cared to admit.

He reached the tall staircase that led to the small round room, packed with feathered creatures. It was night now, and many birds of prey must have been out hunting. But James knew that Godric, his owl, was too spoiled to hunt for food himself, since he already received plenty from his master during the day.

Inside, James was grateful for the animal's laziness: he guessed that Alya had gone there because of the bird. She would have been disappointed if she had not found him.

James Potter quickly climbed the old stone staircase, slightly weathered. Reaching the top, he paused, lingering on the threshold.

Alya Merope Black was inside the room, her slender, lanky figure silhouetted elegantly in front of the perches, on which a few birds of prey snoozed placidly.

James saw a faint smile appear on the maiden's white face as she spotted Godric. Hidden under his Invisibility Cloak, the boy smiled.

James stayed silent and motionless on the doorstep, watching Alya with the same curiosity as when observing a fascinating natural event.

Only then did he realise how beautiful she was. Slender, with long, raven hair - like Sirius' - finely tied in a tail that fell softly over one shoulder. Her eyes were also quite similar to her brother's, grey and sparkling, reflecting a proud and resolute frown. James smiled again as he noticed the small details which underlined the undisputed resemblance between his best friend and his sister.

James was surprised to observe his best friend's sister completely captivated by her shining and, at the same time, dark figure. It was as if he was seeing her for the first time, with new eyes.

Unaware of the gaze with which the young Gryffindor was caressing her from underneath the Invisibility Cloak, Alya had approached Godric slowly and prodded him with a finger to arouse him. The owl let out a cry of annoyance, but when he realised it was Alya who had disturbed him from his sleep, he didn't react, merely fluffing his brown feathers, sleepy.

"I see you pecked Sirius's stupid nose this morning," exclaimed Alya, smugly.

The owl hooted indifferently.

"So, you know how to keep a promise. Here you go! You've earned them," declared the girl, tossing a couple of raisin-studded treats towards Godric.

The bird caught them promptly and began pecking at bits of biscuit, cooing with satisfaction.

Alya stood still in front of Godric, watching him with a vague sweetness in her eyes, veiled by a strange tinge, which James dared to describe as sadness. Something had to be tormenting her.

James Potter stood dumbfounded for another couple of seconds, before realising that his time was running out and that Alya would soon be returning to her dormitory.

He couldn't waste such an opportunity, he had to act now if he wanted to make the longed-for contact with the cold and icy Black.

James slipped off his Invisibility Cloak, hid it inside his bag and cautiously advanced a couple of steps into the small round room.

Alya was so absorbed in her thoughts that she didn't immediately notice the boy's presence.

It was the tinkling sound of a pebble, accidentally struck by the Gryffindor's shoe, which roused the Slytherin girl from her thoughts.

She turned her head and gasped at the sight of the boy who was now standing in front of her.

"You?" was all Alya managed to say, caught in the act of a secret act of kindness.

And, as the Alya Merope Black pierced him with a silver, inquisitive gaze, James turned his most swaggering smile on her.

"I am glad to see that you and Godric have become friends, Black!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Hello everyone!

I hope you enjoyed the chapter. You'll notice that the inner dialogue between James and his little voice is very similar to another inner dialogue that will take place in Harry's head several years later, when he's thinking about Ginny.
I hope you enjoyed the idea.

Let me know in the comments ♡