𝗔𝗖𝗧 𝗜𝗜 ━━ 𝗗𝗘𝗦𝗧𝗥𝗢𝗬 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗠𝗜𝗗𝗗𝗟𝗘
071. nobody's son nobody's daughter

          𝗖𝗘𝗟𝗘𝗦𝗧𝗘 𝗕𝗥𝗜𝗗𝗚𝗘𝗧 𝗔𝗗𝗢𝗥𝗘𝗗 𝗠𝗔𝗞𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗔𝗣𝗣𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗔𝗡𝗖𝗘𝗦 𝗔𝗧 𝗞𝗜𝗡𝗚'𝗦 𝗖𝗥𝗢𝗦𝗦 𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡 when picking up her beloved daughter. A smirk tugged at the corners of her lips as she walked down the pavement, an echoing whisper of her heels that followed Celeste Bridget everywhere. People shot her secret glances, up-and-down lingering gazes at her stunning figure. She was somewhat of a myth around the country—it was difficult to capture her in person merely because she stayed in the shadow. Yet, every paper and every law the Ministry passed down had Celeste's name written on it, in bold black. She was the embodiment of wealth and influence, and her ability to remain invisible until suddenly re-appearing in a crowded area made her even more desirable. 

      To the pureblood men, it did not matter that she was widowed or that she was the mother of the heiress to the Bridget Throne, they would kill to feel her infamous touch. It was intensely morbid and yet interesting all at the same time. 

"Oh, hello, Celeste!" A cheery, very very familiar voice called for her, and her head full of long blonde hair swiftly turned around, watching a shorter silhouette of a woman approaching her. Celeste's breath hitched, and she coughed slightly to maintain composure and then raised her chin sharply; her lips tugging to a formal smile.

"Hello to you, Euphemia," she shot her a glance. It looked like Euphemia was not having any of her bullshit today.

"You are not going to pretend as though you're too good for me, not today, Celeste." Mia declared sternly, and before the blonde woman knew it, a grip on her forearm dragged her away to the furthest corners of the station. She looked around, shooting wry glances at all those staring in amusement.

Celeste snatched her hand away, and the two halted in their hurried footsteps. "Behave, Euphemia. What is the matter?"

"Don't treat me like a stranger," Mia's eyes were astonishingly wide, and Celeste feared she could get lost in the haze of her irises and never recover. "I have spent the past week re-collecting my words, trying to figure out a way to speak to you without you treating me like a nobody."

"There is nothing to say anymore." The blonde retorted.

"I've tried years but I cannot live with you becoming a mere shadow... I miss you," a pause occurred and two hearts skipped a beat, "you know, I didn't even carve Monty and I's initials on that wall back in Hogwarts, Cel." Mia spoke in an unusually solemn manner for a mere lost friend. 

"Euphemia, don't," Celeste shook her head, irises diverting and she stared at distance. Her posture was straight, pearls glinting on her neck and the furry-white coat made her look like a swan.

"Why'd you marry him? I wish you would trust me with what happened all those years ago," said the Potter woman, "Why?"

"Because I had no other choice," Celeste sharply replied. "Did you really think we would spend the rest of our lives being two little screw-up's? I had a family who expected great things, I had a reputation to maintain. There was no other way." 

"I asked you to come live with me," Mia told her. In fact, she begged Celeste like an idiotic fool. Celeste overcame the comments she would receive for hanging out with a Gryffindor; together, they beat ancient rivalry between Houses and lived harmoniously. What the two shared should have been enough to overcome everything else. "Had I not been enough?"

"What did you think would happen, hm?" Celeste pursed her lips, staring at the shorter woman with a rigid face—contrasting Mia's soft features and sweet, gentle voice. "That I'd live in your guest room whilst you had a family with your husband? How exactly would that play out?"

"We would've figured it out. We always found a way."

"We didn't. We lost. Whatever you were expecting with your optimistic and passionate mind, let it go." The blonde shot back.

"You can pretend nothing ever happened but can you really look me in the eye and tell me your heart doesn't skip a beat?" Asked the Potter woman with raised, confident brows, "Can you tell me that between hundreds of strangers, you wouldn't recognise my laugh anywhere?"

Celeste's heart skipped a beat, and the more she stared ahead at the pair of brown orbs, the more her heart leaped and her blood pumped faster. "Goodbye, Mia."

      Euphemia finally looked away to the ground. Every time Celeste would hear her name, or even hear about the Potters from Scarlet's mindless rambles, she would feel ashamed. Celeste and Euphemia grew up hand-in-hand, they were girls together and their love for each other was engraved so deep into their hearts that they could scratch and bite and leave claw-marks and beg for it to vanish, but the love would always be there.

      Like a miracle shaped in white and light-blue—with Celeste's cobalt-irises and luxurious blonde hair glinting like constellations—she turned around and looked over her shoulder, her thin-crimson lips tugging at the corners in a mix of a smirk and genuine smile. With one look, Euphemia thought, for the woman before her, she could ruin herself a million little times.

She gazed right into Euphemia's soul, "You want the truth; my heart does always skip a beat every time I think of you, and then it falls right back in rhythm with yours."

      The two stared at each other for a moment as though if they looked away, one would disappear once again and the other would spend forever missing her. As though if they broke eye contact, Celeste would treat Euphemia like a stranger once again.

      The moment was interrupted when James Potter came forward and hugged his mother from the back—breaking the women's longing stares and clandestine feelings. Celeste looked away as though she had been shot, but Euphemia did not.

Scarlet appeared from behind James with a roll of her eyes at the boy's clingy behaviour. "Hello, Mia." The girl bowed her head.

"Hi there, dear," Mia greeted, and Celeste linked arms with her daughter.

"What are you two doing all the way over here?" James' eyes lingered between the two older women. Mia harshly stepped on her son's foot and he let out a yelp in pain, "Ouch—oh! Sorry. Hey, Mrs Bridget. How are you on this fine afternoon?" He ran a hand through his hair.

Celeste smiled lightly, "I am just fine, dear," her gaze lingered on Euphemia and back to the young Potter's wild eyes. "And you?"

"Good, good, I'm particularly well." James shoved his hands in his pockets, a mischievous grin playing on his lips. "Are you sure you're okay? You look flustered."

All eyes snapped to Celeste's, and Scarlet furrowed her brows a little, "Potter, leave my Mama alone."

The Bridgets bid the Potters goodbye before making their way to a more populated area and exiting through the platform portals.

"What was that about, Mama?" Scarlet asked the clicks of her heels echoing along the platform.

"Nothing, dear," Celeste softly said. "Nothing at all."

Scarlet smiled lightly, hands-in-hands with her mother and waving the infamous group of marauders goodbye from a distance. Sirius then closely followed his family, not being able to tear his eyes away from his friends.

ROSIER MANOR
DECEMBER, 1977

      THE TWO BRIDGET WOMEN ENTERED A LITTLE LATE, and their eyes fell on the Christmas decorations glinting over the bright Rosier Manor. Trees and lights coloured gold and black. Celeste wore a thick black gown, almost gothic style whilst Scarlet's long dress was less heavy. The fabric was thin and hugged her figure all the way down. The tiny gems on her blood-red, mermaid-shaped dress shone underneath the glistening lights and candles. 

      Scarlet glanced all around, at all the women in heavy pieces of jewellery and their most expensive gowns even though it was Christmas Eve and not Christmas itself. All of their attire glistened heavily, covered in jewels and bold colours and glitters, and yet, the attention diverted to Celeste Bridget. It put a smirk on both of their lips. 

      Scarlet was never going to deny it; her mother was the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. It was not in a heartfelt way, Celeste had always been the prettiest. Soft lips, blue eyes, long hair, sharp cheekbones, and perfect Malfoy features. It seemed arrogant to say such a thing about one's own mother but the girl could not help it if it was the truth. So... no wonder everybody looked at her as she slithered down the floor instead of the glowing, shimmering-dressed people all around. 

      Whilst Celeste went ahead and started a conversation with Corletta Carrow, Scarlet excused herself quietly and made her way over to one of the round tables to sit next to Evan, her eyes still searching for one of the Black brothers to spend more time with them. Preferably Sirius. It was a little hard to capture the Blacks present in an event such as this, almost everybody wore black despite it being their signature colour. Evan did not look pleased at all at the moment.

"You're slouching," she scolded in a firm tone, watching him swirl his glass of drink in his hand. "Makes you look unattractive."

"I could be sprawled over the floor, bleeding to death," Evan arrogantly spat, "I'd still look attractive." He crudely eyed the guests, and Scarlet raised a brow in suspicion. 

"Is one of these people bothering you?" She asked urgently. "Tell me now, I'll handle it."

"Nothing is bothering me. I got everything I wanted," he rolled his eyes, not paying attention to his friend. "It's just... not what I imagined."

Scarlet's gaze dropped to her intertwined fingers on the white-clothed table, and she muttered quietly, "Salazar, what have you done, Evan?"

      Evan quickly looked at the blonde, it had been the first time that evening and the first thought that appeared in his mind was that she looked pretty. He obliviously glanced at her figure, starting from the tiara on her full blonde head, and travelled down to her crimson gown, glittering expanses over her waist and neck blinding his eyes.

"If the Wizarding World were to have a royal family, you would fit right in," said Rosier, sipping his drink with a smug face. Truth be told, it was an attempt to excuse himself from the fact that he forgot what she asked the moment he laid eyes on her.

"What have you done?" Oh, that was what she asked, except, this time, she repeated it with a colder tone that threatened him with frostbite. 

      Evan gulped, in hindsight, he should not be wry about confessing his act to Scarlet Bridget—the heiress to the lovely pureblood family who carried their pride as though it was gold; power that resembled lightning in the sky. Yet, for whatever reason, he could not bring himself to utter the words. Instead, he looked around shamefully and glanced down at his forearm, tapping on it twice. 

      He waited for horror or pride or something to rise to Scarlet's face and nothing appeared. It was as though he had cracked an unfunny joke, that was always her reaction whenever she did not find his words amusing. A rigid, stone-cold expression.

      He must have flinched a little when their interaction—the intense eye-contact—was broken by the appearance of Vinda Rosier. 

      Scarlet heard how Vinda's heels kicked harshly against the tiles on purpose, reminding everybody of her presence. She arrogantly thought that her mother would never have to do that, Celeste's footsteps were one of a wraith; quiet and subtle, it was her thunderstorm-like scent that caught everybody's attention. She shook herself away from the judgemental thoughts and reminded herself to be polite.

"Good evening, Mrs Rosier," Scarlet spoke in a sickly-sweet tone that Evan could recognise to be fake from miles away. "This event is rather brilliant, thank you for inviting us."

"It's a pleasure for us, dear," Vinda sent her a tight-lipped smile and Evan looked away from the two women. 

      Vinda had always been particularly amused by Scarlet and the way she carried herself. Minus the Black sisters and the Bridget girls, there were no eligible, reputable girls that would satisfy the expectations of the Purebloods. The Sacred Families seemed to inter-marry until they could not anymore. That was precisely the reason why Walburga had to marry Orion. 

      Evan's mother was quite keen for him to court Scarlet until it was the heir of Noble House of Black who seemed to crash her annoying, unapproachable dream. Sirius Black crashed many pureblood mothers' dreams the day their relationship got out, though, nobody found it surprising. It was Black after all. 

      Rosiers had notorious qualities yet they do not compare to Blacks.

      Truth be told, the Bridgets did not think of the Rosier family that fondly, not ever since that incident. 

      The Rosier woman was never quite pleased by it, 'it is always the Blacks to get their hand on everything first!" She once yelled, and Evan wanted to scream that his friend was not an object to be stolen.

      Not to Evan. To society, she may be a royal architecture glided in gold, but to Evan, she was cunning and opinionated and her mere existence made him think of blossoming petals on a spring morning. It was not to say Evan had feelings for the blonde, no, it was mere respect. He respected both Bridgets and Blacks but he treated Scarlet with the uttermost esteem. 

Vinda sharply nudged Evan's shoulder and his big, blue eyes stared up at his mother from his seat. "I will be at the back to have a chat with your aunts," she gestured towards where Walburga and Druella Black stood, "do not cause trouble. And mingle, what do I teach you manners for?" A scoff left her dark, boldly painted lips. 

      Oh, so the Blacks are here. Where the hell are Regulus and Sirius?

"Vicious woman, she is," Evan spat, and it took the blonde by shock. She merely pretended that nothing out-of-order had happened, as though Evan did not take the Dark Mark at all and he was not complaining, this felt a lot easier. "Never satisfied." The Rosiers were obsessed with the Dark Lord. However, it was clear that older and more powerful men such as Abraxas Malfoy and Orion Black loathed a half-blood leading a war for a cause they created. 

"Sounds like all our mothers," she answered shortly after his complaint, and her eyes still darted to look for a certain Black.

"I think I spent my entire life trying to prove that I'm not ordinary," he shared, clearly noticing the uneasiness radiating from the witch next to him, he continued nonetheless, "with being a Prefect, and then Quidditch captain, obtaining all Outstandings' in the O.W.L.s, and it still wasn't enough."

"That's not true," Scarlet shook her head. Knowing it was far too late to come back from taking the mark, she tried convincing her mind that changing Evan's mind was no use. Yet, her heart spoke otherwise. "You are extraordinary. You've proven yourself to be."

"Tell that to my parents," Evan glanced at Vinda Rosier speaking to Druella, champagne glasses clinking together. "I thought taking the...mark," he spoke in a hushed whisper, taking the surrounding into his concerns, "would make them believe I'm exceptional. Father treated the matter as a bare minimum."

      Scarlet had to blink their sorrows away. Evan Rosier had been the first to turn to the dark side within her friends' group, and she did not know how many more there were to go. She was never going to forgive the Dark Lord and his war for taking Rosier away from her.

"Listen, Evan," she bit the insides of her cheeks before speaking with hesitancy. "If you ever get tired of the life you're leading—if you ever feel like you're sick of ignoring your dreams and acting on someone else's control, remember that you have people who will not be judgemental of your choices."

      Evan's brows pinched together, he told himself he wanted this. All of it. The Dark Lord, The Dark Mark, the Dark Arts—he found them fascinating. Then he also told himself that if he did not contribute to this cause, he would have nobody. Worse, he would become a nobody.

"Remember whatever path you go far down on, it'll never be too late to come back to my side," she reminded softly, staring into his haunted eyes. Her side. He was trying to act nonchalant, however, next to Scarlet, it proved to be impossible. "You'll always have me, Evan."

      Evan offered her a gentle smile instead of a thank you and shook his head with a sigh afterward. No matter how much time passed by, the stars in Evan's eyes never really shone as bright as they used to.

      A few seconds passed and she felt Evan nudging her ribs with his elbow, a sigh of annoyance left her crimson lips. When she turned to look at the blonde boy, he raised a brow and used his eyes to gesture toward a spot opposite the manor where Sirius sat by Regulus.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd infer he's eye-fucking you but I..." Evan trailed off and shook his head with disappointment. "I don't know any better."

"Salazar, Evan, shut up." Scarlet kept her eyes trailed on Sirius who sent a devilish glare her way, and she glared right back. Jealousy looked pretty on him, and he was always weary about her friendship with Rosier for whatever reason. Sirius raised his champagne glass to his lips, sipping his drink slowly. 

      She harshly settled down her goblet on the table, not able to bear that look any longer. She threw her purse on the table and watched Evan roll his eyes. Her dress brushed against the floor as she walked, and Sirius stood to storm over to her.

      There were young girls whose eyes darted over to him, a few let out giggles when he brushed past them in a hurry to get to his girl. Whilst Sirius' eyes remained trained on her on a floor full of people dancing, Scarlet decided to irritate him further and flirtatiously waved her hand to all those young boys, even men who turned to stare at her shamelessly. She put on her charming, subtle smile and all those filth-filled individuals forgot about whatever girls were in their arms.

      Little, audible groans came from the younger individuals the moment Sirius wrapped his arms around Scarlet, and the girl finally turned to face him.

"You look stunning," Sirius complimented, it was a lazy compliment. 

"You," she mocked distaste. His arm tightened around her lower back, and he stood a few inches taller than her. She finds it irritating when he towers over her like that, hovering as though he's the only one she's meant to see. "What are you doing in my way?"

"As if you didn't see me, you were practically running towards me, love," Sirius grinned shamelessly. 

"No," she softly shook her head. "I thought you were Regulus."

      Even she could not help the laugh that escaped her dignified lips the moment she said the words, the way Sirius' face fell and a muscle in his jaw ticked. She threw her head back just a little, and the laugh that left her lips felt like honey sweeping off her tongue. 

      Along with everybody else on the dance floor, he twirled her. He tugged her back a bit too harshly, and the distance she had anticipated was closed as her figure hit his hard chest, a small gasp leaving her lips which brought a lopsided smirk to his lips.

"Can I tell you something?" He decided it was best to ignore her sly and annoying comments about Regulus. He could not afford to get jealous and have her tease him about it for the rest of his life. 

"No." She answered bluntly, "Shut up and dance."

"I'm going to say it anyway," Sirius' hand tightened around her waist and her breath hitched in her throat. "Even though it's gonna sound cheesy."

      Somehow, she did not know how he managed to knock the air out of her lungs every single time. 

"I'd sacrifice myself just to ensure your safety." He wanted to bring clarity to how much she truly meant to him. It was cheesy, incredibly cliche of him to say the words but he said it anyway if it convinced her that her safety was all that mattered. In this world resembling a circus full of fakers and liars, he was surely not with her out of any conveniences but due to pure... adoration. Whilst danger lurked in the darkness of the ballroom, his hands were her safety net and they would be there whenever she fell. Not that Scarlet Bridget ever falls. 

"I'd sacrifice the world to make sure you're safe." She shot back as quickly as possible. 

      There was no doubt. Her entire life, something had been holding her back. A bleak madness that she carries and hides so fantastically could ruin her image. The darkness encapsulated by her veins would prove she has no control over fate. However, if something—anything had happened to Sirius, she doesn't know what she would do. If it meant he would be safe and sound, she would bring the entire fucking world to its knees, destroy dynamic dynasties, burn down the country until every tree and every breeze felt dystopian. She would do anything.

      Adoration filling his eyes, he winked proudly and charmingly, trying to avoid how much his heart flipped at her words. They swayed along to the music with her hands locked at the back of his neck, chin tilted up to look into the irises that were powder grey-blue. 

"That truly makes me feel special," Sirius broke the silence. "Being protected by Scarlet Bridget," his tone was mixed with teasing and arrogance, making Scarlet arch a perfect brow. "What makes you feel special?"

"Attention." 

"Attention?" He arched a brow this time, a smirk lingering on his face, "Then tell me something else," Sirius broke the silence, speaking in a raspy tone. "Did you ever have someone kiss you in a crowded room, Blondie? That is bound to gather everybody's attention."

"I haven't, I'm sure you're quite experienced in that matter, " she shook her head, mocking him again for fun, "So, what, you'll kiss me, darling? In front of all these stupid people."

      Sirius placed an index on her chin to angle her face upward and locked his lips with hers in a room full of judgemental pureblood individuals. Those who knew of their relationship through their children who attend Hogwarts let out chuckles and proud grins, as though they expected nothing less from a Black heir and a Bridget heiress. 

      For those who did not know, a chorus of gasps was heard and they had caught the attention of those twirling around in the ballroom.

      She felt Sirius grin into the kiss and his arms tightened around her arched back, and it sent a plethora of butterflies swirling in her stomach. The kiss did not last very long before another hand tugged Sirius' sleeve and widened their distance.

"Cut it out, you two, people are starting to talk." Celeste Bridget sternly ordered, gaze lingering between the two in an amused way. "Honestly, what is the matter with you two fools?"

"Apologies, Mrs Bridget," Sirius coughed lightly and nodded politely, a muscle in his jaw ticked and Scarlet raised a crude brow in his direction. 

"It's about time you start to call me Celeste, honey," the blonde woman rolled her eyes. "I won't repeat myself, behave." She pointed a finger as she slithered away, smoothly walking off the dance floor. 

Sirius turned to Scarlet and proudly smirked, "See? We're the talk of the day."

      Nobody else could exactly see through it. Sirius Black may have been a troublemaker but there was an equitable reason behind it. Perhaps after being a helpless victim of uncountable brutal acts from his parents, causing trouble to others is one way of obtaining an upper hand; a way to remind himself that he too could be in control of his life. He acted careless except Scarlet knew that somewhere deep in his reckless heart, he cared. He cared so much that it physically extinguished an ache buried all over his soul.

      Even obtaining the titles of the heir and heiress to two of the wealthiest and most powerful families of England's wizarding world, Sirius and Scarlet were nobodies. Their families were nobody if their infamous, purest blood were to dry out—simply because they lacked hearts.

      In the end, Sirius was nobody's son, and Scarlet was nobody's daughter. They were somebody to each other, though. He was everything to her. All they wanted was not gold and influence, it was to escape their lethal dynasty and become invisible as they danced under broad daylight in the countryside of England.

      The Blacks were unapproachable and radiated danger. The Rosiers were wealthy and crueller. However, the Bridgets had a morbid undertone within the family, a shadowy crack that ran through the middle of their tragic lives and brought nothing but blood and deaths. The magic running through their pure, ancient blood carried a certain danger, an intense amplifier that overpowered other families. The Bridgets never lived long like other wizards and witches—there was no scientific nor magical reasoning behind it. It was the mere fact that their urge for revenge and gore was their fatal flaw, their downfall. Everybody acknowledged it, nobody spoke of it.

      The night could have ended better for both Sirius and Scarlet. Once they had completed supper and it was time to bid goodbye, Evan was speaking to Scarlet whilst Celeste complimented Vinda for the marvelous night she had produced. 

Lucius slithered along, leaning close to Evan with a smirk hanging by his lips, Scarlet was able to pick on what he said, "Congratulations. For the mark." To those words, Abraxas Malfoy shot the two boys a distasteful look. 

      Scarlet could hear the sound of her heart breaking into a million pieces. Rosier nodded at Lucius and sent a wry glance Scarlet's way. She knew most of her friends anticipated being Death Eaters in the following years; she just did not expect to lose them to the war this soon. Somehow... somehow, she could not bring herself to ever deject him for it. Evan's beliefs were wrong unjust and harmful, and Scarlet hated herself for not despising him for it. 

      Scarlet's glance diverted to Sirius who stood at the corner with an expressionless, bored face and hoped the war would not take him away from her too. She hoped nothing would take him from her. Her heart churned at the thought of ever losing Sirius.

𝑪𝑨𝑹𝑨 𝑺𝑷𝑬𝑨𝑲𝑺

i need u guys' help.
should i change the chapter name to
'nobody's son, nobody's daughter'
or keep 'the rosier manor' 

also, sorry if the chapter feels too descriptive
won't happen again i swear!!