◤ chapter two: ❛ the haunting of greer ainsley ❜ ◢

✧

GREER ABHORED THE NOTION OF SUMMER. The season itself was lacking at best – sweat clinging to her skin highlighting imperfection after imperfection, time locked away in the Ainsley Manor like a princess in a tower, and little access to learn. Education was only important to an extent, her father taught, but for women such as yourself, learning social activities far exceeds anything a classroom will teach you.

         She could tell the right fork to use at the proper time, how to greet guests and be an entertaining host, how to charm and convince others – but those were all she was allowed to study during the summer months. No books besides those Hogwarts assigned for summer, no tutors, nothing for academic pursuit.

         And nothing to distract her from her father.

         Although that wasn't a problem this summer, having heard not a word from him, she itched to be away from Helen. The idea of going back to Hogwarts with everyone's stares and whispers made her skin crawl, but staying with Helen made her stomach churn. The woman had been nothing but kind, yet Greer knew she deserved nothing of this.

         Helen was oblivious to what truly happened, and her involvement in it. Staying in this mundane house, in the bedroom that used to be Morgan's, with this woman whose niece she watched die – it made her sick. She wanted to throw up, but she held the bile down.

         "Are you excited for your last year?" Helen asked over breakfast. It was a simple affair, as every meal with Helen was. Greer grew up with extravagance – no meal was plain, nothing small, everything grand and done with flair. She was used to turning to Blinky for any of her needs, but the house elf no longer served her.

         Blinky stayed at Ainsley Manor, and the house stayed untouched since summer. Helen prepared the meals, and Greer ate what she could, reminiscing of what she used to eat before.

         Greer shrugged. "I suppose."

         Hogwarts didn't excite her. She could think of no one she knew who was excited to return. Perhaps happy, if they wanted to learn, maybe relieved, but not excited. No one held that much joy for the school. Before, Hogwarts had been an escape, but only the notion of one rather than actually being one; her father might not have been there physically, but she could still feel his presence.

         Purebloods look out for each other because no one else will, her father defended himself.

         She didn't know what Hogwarts would be this year, or any feeling to associate with it. Certainly not relief or excitement, not happy either. Prepared, maybe, she was prepared to return. Ready to leave Helen though the woman would be alone, prepared to face those who looked down upon her family, and prepared to finish her education.

         "Have you given any thought about after Hogwarts?" Helen continued, "A career you want?"

         Her eyes shifted. She prodded the sausage with her fork. No, if she replied honestly, no she hadn't. She thought nothing about a future. A career she might want to try, a life she wanted to live, anything about after Hogwarts really. It was all supposed to be sorted, still was, she assumed.

         Alistair Ainsley talked about her marrying someone, and was sure after that she would become a socialite. A Death Eater, and a socialite. She dismissed any thought of a career.

         "I haven't decided yet."

         There was nothing to decide, yet the question caused her to frown. What would she want? She supposed she was rather good at Herbology, liked Potions well enough, Charms was fun on a good day, and Transfiguration excited her. But she never dared think of a career.

         "Well, there's plenty of time. I hate the idea that you have to know your future by the time you graduate. It's nonsense, really, you're so young! If anything, you can start in one job and start over years later in a completely new field," Helen went on, "Everything takes time."

         Greer hummed. She wasn't sure how to respond, really, because she was sure that come graduation her father would have wormed his way back into good standing and everything would go back to what it used to be. And any lust for a career would be properly squashed.

         Better not.

         After breakfast, Helen released her to get ready for Diagon Alley. Mid-August and time to buy all her school supplies before the beginning of September. She took a nice shower, allowing the warm water to relax her muscles, before moving to the mirror and beginning her skin care routine.

         A simple affair.

         She lathered her hands in cream, then rubbed it into her face, rinsing later and washing. She repeated the process with a number of products before moving onto makeup. She reached for her wand, only needing a simple charm.

         Greer.

         She hesitated. Looking into the mirror then around the room, she frowned. Perhaps she imagined the voice.

         Greer.

         Her spine itched with chills, back stiffening. She turned around fully. "Is anyone there?"

         Greer.

         Still unable to see anything, she turned back around. Taking a moment to steady herself, she squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head before opening her eyes and reaching for her wand again.

         "Greer!"

         Yelping, she lurched back. Dropping her wand and standing, she saw in a flash Morgan. No – it couldn't be. Snapping her head, there was nothing behind her again. And the mirror was blank.

         No Morgan. Just her.

         "You're imagining things now," she muttered to herself. A simple charm, and her bare face became dewed with makeup. "You're imagining things now."

✧

         THE BEGINNING OF September came, and Helen dropped her off at Kings Cross. They didn't hug goodbye, though she didn't expect them to. She never hugged anyone goodbye, not in the way she had seen many parents hold their children. No, Helen smiled at her, and told her to write, and she promised without having any intention to do so.

         She stepped onto the Hogwarts Express, took an empty compartment for herself, joined later by Carmichael and Nikolai. They traded pleasantries then shushed themselves. A quiet affair.

         Summer ended and fall began. Hogwarts became her home again, as it did with every season change. She didn't mention her hallucination to her friends. There was no reason to. Nikolai would surely laugh it off, asking if she needed a Mind Healer, and Carmichael would grow solemn, telling her not to joke about these things.

         She didn't see Morgan again.

         It only solidified her belief that she simply imagined the encounter. How could it be anything else? She was not a medium, had never seen another ghost in her life, so it didn't make sense for her to see Morgan. No, she concluded, she had only imagined it.

         "Have you heard from your father at all?"

         The question took her out of her trance. She looked at Nikolai. "Sorry?"

         "Your father – have you heard from him?"

         "No. Not since before..." a small lie, a whit one really, and what did a lie mean anymore? She was sure her first words had been a lie at this point because it came so naturally.

         But it wasn't truly a lie either. She hadn't heard from him, the longest period of time without word shared between them. No letter, no code, nothing. Left in the cold like she meant nothing to him. His princess, he called her, and yet he made no attempt to contact her. She had no way of talking to him, not the faintest idea where he could be or who he could be with.

         "Right," Nikolai nodded, taking up the cue when she trailed off, "Well, everyone's going to ask, so I thought I should prepare you."

         "Horrible way to start off," Carmichael rolled his eyes.

         "I'm prepared for their questions. I had many at the end of last year, I have no doubt that there will be more," Greer curtly replied, "It doesn't bother me."

         Nikolai eyed her. She felt rather uncomfortable with the way his eyes tracked her, but she managed not to physically twitch at his scathing eyes. "Well, either way, people will take school as their chance to corner you."

         "Thank you for your concern."

         He hummed, and she knew it was the end of that. He said his part, and she responded in kind. If she was more naïve, she would think this as a part of him caring for her. That idea had been burned out of her now.

         The rest of the ride was uneventful, as was the Welcoming Feast. She ate her food, spoke when needed, and ignored the eyes upon her. Ainsleys never faltered, and she wasn't about to start. No, she was poised and calm, never rising to any of the whispers and pointed fingers her way.

         Her friends did their best to distract her from it, but she still noticed, though didn't mention a word. It wasn't time for that, after all. It was time to show Hogwarts that Greer Ainsley was unaffected by them; she was better than them, with her head high and cool features. Nothing would dig itself into her stone skin.

         She snuck off after dinner. It was easy, with all the commotion of Heads ushering first years into their dorms and students trying to get into their common rooms, she slipped down another hallway, twisting into another, until the night sky greeted her.

         She let out a breath. Merlin, only now she realized how suffocated she had been. Walking further down the hill, she reached the docks of the Black Lake. The waters had always calmed her on nights she couldn't sleep.

         "Hello."

         Snapping, her brought her wand from her robes, pointing it at the stranger who disturbed her. Her eyebrows furrowed at the figure – it wasn't someone she expected.

         "No need to attack, I'm not here to harm you," he teased, though his hands were raised as a white flag, "Just wanted to have a chat."

         "Wonder what it could be about," she murmured, mostly to herself but by the way his lips quirked a little, she knew he heard her too. Still, she lowered her wand, and he approached, sitting down beside her and letting his legs dangle.

         "I'm Sirius, by the way."

         A more open Greer would have rolled her eyes, perhaps scoffed, but she only stared. "I'm well aware."

         Really, who wasn't? The disownment of Sirius Black was all the gossip when it occurred, more-so than when the Sorting Hat declared him Gryffindor. Though, hearing all about him, controversy always circled him.

         You will never become a disappointment like him, her father said that morning, bringing down his paper and staring at her intently when Abraxas Malfoy told him the news. She had only nodded, replying of course.

         Greer Ainsley never disappointed her father. That was a fact and a truth.

         "Though so," Sirius nodded, "I remember seeing you a lot growing up."

         She remembered that too. When they were children, and his hair was a lot shorter, face more solemn like all kids around them. Now, his eyes held a charm and a childish spirit. A free one, she thought. She knew him standing next to Orion and Walburga, tall against his younger brother Regulus.

         They never interacted then. Alistair nudged her towards Nikolai and Carmichael, and she went willingly. Sirius only hung around his family if she recalled properly.

         "I don't remember," an obvious lie, they had caught eyes on multiple occasions, but he didn't call her out on it.

         He looked so different from that young boy she saw across rooms in small gazes. Grown, obviously, but with a more distinguished jawline and longer hair. Dark eyes – same color as his younger counterpart – but these weren't dull. It was like the life had returned to them. They had a mirth to them, lighting them up.

         "You know, most people would be catching up with their friends, lounging in their common room, maybe getting to know their dorm, but..." Sirius inspected her, "You're here."

         His gaze left her crawling with discomfort, but not like Nikolai's. Nikolai's gaze was piercing, staring deeply into her soul as if he was using Legilimency. Sirius, however, was curious. Fresh. Skin deep. A glance over rather than an intrusion.

         "So are you."

         "I was following you," he admitted.

         "Stalking," she mused, "Of course."

         She rolled her neck, looking away from him. This was out of her element. She could excel talking to adults, skirting through deep conversation with light remarks, brushing off topics she didn't want to discuss. But Sirius Black was unlike any of them – so similar in ways, growing up in circles she had, but so removed. Untouchable.

         Sirius barked a laugh. "Not stalking," he corrected her, "But I wanted to talk to. Well, Moony wants to talk to you, but you blew him off at the...well, the funeral."

         She swallowed. If she looked close enough into the water, she almost saw a glimpse of the girl in question again. Then, the water rippled and the reflection was replaced with her own.

         "Moony?" she asked instead.

         "Remus. Moony's a nickname."

         Humming in acknowledgement, she kicked her feet in the water, splashing around a little. Anything to diffuse the tension in her head. Sirius' eyes never left her.

         "Yes, we did talk at Morgan's funeral," she confirmed, the words coming mechanically out of her mouth. Morgan's funeral – she had never said that phrase yet, hadn't she? No one had. Everyone said the thing or trailed off letting her assume the ending, but no one said it.

         Morgan's funeral.

         Because Morgan was dead.

         And Alistair Ainsley killed her.

         No one said those things, only left them up in the air for others to piece together, as if saying the words would end the universe. But she said them; she faced the facts. The sky was blue, summer was over, and Morgan was dead.

         "Right. Well, he still has some questions," Sirius said, looking decidedly uncomfortable with her address. His face showed everything, an open book for her to read.

         "He can ask me himself."

         "You scared him off – but don't tell him I said that," he added the last part in a hurry.

         She lips quirked upwards in amusement. "I don't know what you want me to say."

         "The truth."

         She could laugh at him. Ha! The truth! As if she could ever give that. Ainsleys lied, they weren't honest creatures, and she wasn't about to start. The truth was too devasting to admit. She was there, she saw it happen, and did nothing. Now the thestrals that that pulled carriages to Hogwarts materialized for her when before they were invisible. She watched Morgan die.

         "The truth?" she questioned, turning to him, leaning in, "Who says I haven't been telling it already?"

         Sirius shrugged. Coy in the way she was, playing the game alongside her. "You seem smart, I have a hard time believing you knew nothing."

         Greer shrugged. She shouldn't entertain a conversation with him. If anyone caught her talking to Sirius Black the Bloodtraitor her father would kill her – well, he would if he came out of hiding. But this...it felt freeing in a way conversation hadn't since Morgan.

         With Morgan, she could be vulnerable. Someone who knew the inside, knew her father and the truth, and was loud. Open, objecting, a breath of fresh air. No coveting, no slivers of truth mixed in with lies – just truth, open and honest.

         She rather liked playing this game with Sirius.

         And oh, she did, she knew so much. Everything, almost. She knew that Helen Lee was a member of the Order of the Phoenix, had been for three years. Recruited by Presley Shacklebolt. Single for over a decade and lovesick. An easy target.

         She knew that her father was going to marry Helen Lee, gain access to the Order's secrets, and once she became useless, he was going to kill her. Morgan, too. And then life would continue as it once was, like he had never been married to Helen Lee, like Morgan Lee never existed.

         Oh, how plans changed.

         "What could I possibly know?"

         "Moony tells me you knew Morgan was going to publish that article – that you told her not to," he continued, and her heart stopped. He knew this much? Morgan told Remus this much? "And you knew your father's a Death Eater."

         She cooled her features, not allowing herself to show the shock that consumed her. Morgan told them this much, and now they knew it? They could ruin her with this information, if anyone believed them. But with the way the world was turning on Alistair Ainsley, she didn't like her chances.

         She stared at him. "You say I'm smart, but so was Morgan. I knew what would happen if she did that interview and I made sure she did too. It's her actions that got her killed."

         "You can't possibly believe that."

         She did, but she didn't. Morgan knew, and did it anyway, no care for the consequences. But Morgan didn't deserve to die – her father never should've murdered her. Yet, that changed nothing of what happened.

         Morgan was dead, Alistair Ainsley the murderer, and Greer was left to pick up the pieces.

         A terrible outlook, really, and yet she thought it. Convinced herself to believe it.

         "I don't know what you want me to say," she repeated.

         "Say you're sorry, say that this never should've happened, that – that you did something to stop it," Sirius said incredulously, like he couldn't believe she lacked the sympathy to apologize.

         What could she apologize for? She tried – she really did. She begged her father not to, and that didn't matter. She couldn't do anything to stop Morgan dying, and she didn't think Morgan wanted her to. She was not to blame.

         "It never should've happened," she appeased.

         "That's all?"

         Shrugging, she looked back to the lake. "It never should've happened, but I won't apologize for something I didn't do," she amended, "I'm not the one who killed her."

         He said nothing. Perhaps he couldn't. Then:

         "They don't get it – the guys. Remus is ready to paint you like a villain, just like your dad. James and Peter, too. I get it, though. Your parents aren't you."

         A lump formed in her throat. She didn't know how to respond to that, and now she's the one left speechless. Helen waved off any guilt, not looking deep into it, and her friends didn't see a problem. So Morgan was dead, who cared?

         But this...no one had ever said this. She wasn't Alistair Ainsley, that didn't stop her from seeing him in her.

         Alicia Greer Ainsley – his darling princess, modeled to be another version of him. She wasn't him, but she was supposed to be him. And she didn't know how to stop being him, living her whole life this way, emulating him.

         Sirius stood, casting her one last glance before walking away. She stayed by the water, drawing her knees close and hugging herself. Alicia Greer Ainsley...but not Alistair Ainsley.

         "Greer."

         She tensed, turning around to the castle as the sound of her name. In a voice so familiar but so gone from her. Nothing. The lake held the voice's reflection, but she didn't look.

         "Greer."

         She stood, alarmed. Raising her wand again, she stepped off of the dock. No, it couldn't be this voice, this voice was gone.

         "Greer."

         She turned again – a voice and a figure. She dropped her wand, staggering back.

         "Greer," the figure moved forward, locking eyes with her, like she had that night, "You can see me? Ah! You can see me!"

         She looked so overjoyed at the thought, smiling brightly in a way Greer never imagined she would see again. No, this couldn't be right, unless...unless she was going mad, or seeing a ghost.

         "Morgan?"