𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄:
Letters to Sirius
(1971)

DEAREST VIV,

How are you, my ever-so-favorite cousin? Since you received your Hogwarts letter last week—in a rather dramatic way, in my opinion, I reckon you need to go to Diagon Alley to get books and whatnot. Would you like to join us? If you don't mind my mother's presence, I understand that if you don't wish to go, she's an unpleasant company to be with. At least if you come with me, it will be more bearable.

Oh! And I want to show you the newest Quidditch broom I saw in the Daily Prophet this morning. I'm hoping to be in the Quidditch team at Hogwarts—I know that 1st years aren't allowed for tryouts yet, but still, I would like to try.

Your favorite cousin,

Sirius "most handsome" Black

Viviane finished reading Sirius's letter in his beautifully flowing and elegant form of handwriting. Of course, Sirius has had the same practice with his handwriting as she did, as all pureblood children had.

And the most typical signature that she expected from her cousin Viviane closed the glass doors of her bedroom balcony. Walking towards her table and preparing her parchment and the charmed quill that her father gave her.

She exits her bedroom and walks along the familiar halls of the manor. She stopped by suddenly in front of the big mahogany double doors. With her chin up, Viviane mustered up the courage and straightened back, poised posture.

Viviane knocked on the door of her father's study.

"Enter." Daniel's deep voice responds. Viviane pushes through the doors entering the study. The walls are wrapped in luxurious green wallpaper and intricate patterns. The magnificent mahogany desk is positioned at the center of the study. A comfortable reading chair, upholstered in a plush green fabric.

A persian rug with intricate patterns in shades of green and gold lies gracefully on the polished hardwood floor. The walls lined up with large mahogany bookshelves filled with book titles ranging from ancient studies to potion expertise. Large windows adorned with heavy drapes allow natural light to filter in, casting a gentle glow on the rows of books.

Hands behind her back as she walked up to her father's desk. Viviane looked at her father, waiting for him to finish whatever he was writing. He puts down the quill, taking off his glasses as he sighs, sitting back.

"Viviane. Is there anything you wish to tell me?" Daniel asks with a raised eyebrow as Viviane softly nods in response. "Well, what is it then?"

Viviane clears out her throat and asks, tone polite and soft, "Father since I received my Hogwarts letter yesterday. I was wondering when I'll get my things at Diagon Alley?" Looking at her father expectantly.

Daniel hums, nodding in acknowledgment of what Viviane said. Daniel stood up from his seat and responded, "Nonsense. I'll have your books and whatever you need to be delivered here in the manor."

Viviane refrains, a frown creeping up her features. Now how will I see Sirius? Viviane just nodded. Furrowing her eyebrows questionably, and asking, "But how will I get my wand?"

Daniel walks around his desk, standing in front of his daughter—towering over her. Hands tucked in his pockets, "Well, you receive your wand like every Hawthorne does. We have our own wandmaker."

Merlin, even this part of her childhood is ruined. She couldn't even get her own things for Hogwarts in Diagon Alley and her wand at Ollivanders like any other young witch and wizard. Viviane refrains to pout.

"Is that all, my daughter?" Daniel queries, looking at Viviane expectantly.

"Yes, Father." Viviane gives him a smile. "If I may be dismissed?"

"You may. Your books will arrive later in the day. Your mother already has your measurements for your robes. It'll arrive within the week. And Mr. Frimley shall arrive this afternoon."

Phelan Frimley is a known private wandmaker for pureblood families. Especially for every Hawthorne generation—imagine his surprise when he received the news when he had learned that the Hawthorne newborn was an heiress.

Viviane nodded, exiting her father's study, wanting to throw a tantrum and stump her feet. But remember that she'll only get in trouble if she does so. So she walks back to her bedroom and sits on the table where the parchment and quill she prepared earlier await her. She writes a reply to Sirius.

Dear Sirius,

Unfortunately, my father didn't allow me to go to Diagon Alley. He told me that my things would arrive at the manor. I presume Mr. Frimley, a private wandmaker, will be arriving this afternoon with a selection of wands for me. Mama already ordered my robes. I would love to go with you and feel like any other witch and wizard going to Diagon Alley to purchase their books, equipment, and robes and enter Ollivanders to get their wand. Although my father did save me from conversing with Walburga, thank Merlin for that. I do not think I cannot take any more of her holier-than-thou pureblood attitude.

Although, would you ever be so kind, my favorite dearest cousin of mine would not mind buying me two boxes of cauldron cakes and Sherbert lemons? You know they're my favorite sweets ever! And a new copy of Hogwarts a History at Flourish and Blotts? The copy in the library is delicate and fragile, and I don't want to ruin the pages any further. Don't worry, I'll pay you.

P.S. You can have one cauldron cake, just one cauldron cake, alright? Be nice to Weeny. She's not like your house elf Kreacher.

Yours truly,

Viviane "Prettiest" Hawthorne

Viviane rolls the parchment, securing it closed with a green ribbon. She stands up from her seat and calls, "Weeny,"

A familiar crack echoed in the room, apparating in front of her. "Mistress Viviane has summoned Weeny?"

Viviane hums in response, giving Weeny the rolled-up letter. "You wouldn't mind delivering my letter to Sirius, would you? An owl could take a while, and he needs to read it before they go to Diagon Alley."

"Of course, Mistress Viviane." Weeny agrees to her request and disapparates.

•| ⊱✿⊰ |•

"INTERESTING. VERY INTERESTING." Mr. Frimley mutters to himself as he scratches his stubble beard, puckering his lips to the side of his face, with furrowed brows and scrunched up nose. He is holding an empty box of a wand, the wand that Viviane is currently holding, the second wand that hasn't obviously chosen her.

He then walks rather slowly. The man in front of her is quite old. Well, he could possibly have met Viviane's great-grandfather. With weak legs, he made it to the stacks of wand boxes and proceeded to scan the labels with squinted eyes.

Humming to himself. Mr. Frimley opens the third box, and Viviane takes it upon herself to walk towards the old man and carefully takes the wand. Viviane gave it a go as she gently whooshed the wand around the room, with the furniture shaking in place.

Christine is with her the whole time. The one cleaning up the mess after two failed—now three failed wands, Viviane has failed to be its master. "Good thing Mr. Frimly has brought an extensive collection of his wands. Surely one will choose you, anak."

"Certainly." Mr. Frimley agrees as Viviane hands him the third one, tucking it back safely inside the box, laying it separately on the table with the two other wands that Viviane has already tested.

"I remember your grandfather when he was testing out the right wand. It was quite a picky and long process as well." Mr. Frimley informs the 11-year-old girl with a scratchy and a low voice.

If they just went to Ollivanders, all of this would have been over.

"Might as well." Mr. Frimley nods to himself as he takes a black box. Taking the wand that resided inside. Informing them, "This wand. Is my finest craft up to date. 11 inches, made of Blackwood and liquid silver moondust core—the rarest core I have obtained in my 80 years of wand making."

Merlin. 80 years. When does he plan to retire? When he's 150 years old and can barely walk?

"What exactly does the liquid silver moondust add to the wand?" Viviane asks curiously. Looking at the wand in her hand. Her thumb brushes the core that was carved intricately with little skulls—it was kind of morbid, but she likes it.

"Well, it helps you with brewing potions! Why didn't I think of that? My mistake." Mr. Fimley waves his hand in dismissal, not wanting to show his embarrassment.

"And not only that, the core will enhance your magic and is faithful to you, and you only. You will be the only one able to wield it."

Nothing special, after all. Merlin, why did he get her hopes up? It's a normal wand with a fancy core.

Viviane accepts his answer and tests the wand. With one flick, warmth embraced her, kind of like adrenaline rushing through her body. It was all exciting and amazing at the same time. Like she became one with her wand, bonded with it.

"Ah!" Mr. Frimley exclaims excitedly with a joyful clap of his hands, and Christine smiles at her daughter.

"The wand suits you well, anak," Christine comments and Mr. Frimley agrees with a nod of his head.

"My work is done. I shall await for the next Hawthorne heir that requires my services." Mr. Frimley bows as he lifts his wand. The boxes levitate one by one, and his suitcase opens, and all the boxes gather in one big circle and enter the suitcase, and shuts closed.

"Thank you, Mr. Frimley." Viviane politely says, shaking his hand. Christine did the same.

"Please do tell Mr. Hawthorne my greetings. It looks like the man is still oh-so busy." Mr. Frimley hides his frown, he was hoping to make small talk with the man, but he never did leave his study to greet the wandmaker.

"I'll surely tell him." Christine smiles, tone assuring as Mr. Frimley walks slowly towards their fireplace. With the intention to use the floo network, Christine assisted him, giving him floo powder as he yelled out.

"Diagon Alley!" Mr. Frimley exclaimed, throwing the floo powder to the ground as the green flames consumed him then he was gone.

Even Mr. Frimley went to Diagon Alley.

Viviane didn't even hide her distaste, rolling her eyes and a scoff escaping her lips.

Christine chuckles, "Anak. We can always go to Diagon Alley if you wish."

"But Father already bought my things from his personal suppliers. There's no use. And I already have my wand." Viviane responds, lifting up her new wand that feels familiar in her grasp, even though she has just obtained it.

"I remember when I received my wand. I was so happy." Christine tells her as she takes out her wand from her pocket dress.

"12 and a half inches. We have the same wood embedded with large quartz. But with lava ash core." Showing Viviane her hand. Her mother's wand is beautiful and simple. The quartz at the bottom of the wand makes it more interesting and one of a kind.

Suddenly, Weeny, their house elf, apparated in front of them carrying two small light pink and white polka dotted designed boxes, a book on top of the box, and letter stuck between the pages of the book, and a pack of sherbet lemons.

"Weeny has returned, and Sirius has given Weeny what Mistress Viviane told him to buy for her." Weeny hands Viviane the items that were in her grasp. Christine shook her head, and a smile resided on her lips.

"Thank you, Weeny." Viviane smiles at the house elf gratefully with a nod. Weeny disapparated.

"Viviane." Christine raises an eyebrow at her daughter.

"Mama." Viviane innocently says. Only two are left while opening the first box and noting the three missing cauldron cakes. Viviane frowns—she has five more cauldron cakes in the second box—hopefully.

"Why did you ask Sirius to buy you these?" Christine shakes her head again, amused.

"I was sad, and I wanted something from Diagon Alley since I wasn't allowed to go today because of Father," Viviane answers as she takes a bit of her cauldron cake, the delicious chocolate coating her sweet buds. Viviane smiles happily.

"Well, will you pay Sirius at least?"

"No." Viviane innocently shrugs as she takes another bite, a giggle escaping her lips. Christine rolls her eyes, noting to herself to send Sirius the galleons that Viviane owed him. Viviane then runs to her bedroom, seeing her new textbooks on her study table.

Reminding herself to scan a few pages before she goes to bed. Placing the two boxes, book, and pack of Sherbert lemons on the coffee table and taking the letter.

Dearest Viv,

The trip to Diagon Alley was exhausting, to say the least. Mother fought with someone's mother today. And I made a friend, his name is James Potter. We met at the Quality Quidditch Supplies, we're both fussing over the Firebolt, and agreed that we'll share the same compartment on the train. I told him that you'll be joining us. So you will. Please?

We conversed well until Mother came in, screeching about James and their family being blood traitors. James's mother came to his rescue. Apparently, James's grandmother was a Black and was blasted off the family tree. What a drama. It was pretty entertaining. Especially when Euphemia, James's mother, shuts mother up. I wish she was my mother. There will be less screeching. And I won't end up deaf by the age of thirty.

Also, I will never enter Flourish and Blotts again. It was confusing. Too many books, in my opinion. Glad I found the book you wanted before I got lost. I wish you were there with me, cousin. You should have seen Mother's face! It was hilarious. She was so furious. I've never seen her so pissed off before. I'm the only one who can piss her off like that. Wish I could meet Euphemia again. She just became my favorite person.

P.S. I ate more than one cauldron cake. It was delicious. I don't regret a thing. Your house elf, Weeny, is nice, unlike the vile Kreacher.

Your favorite cousin ever,

Sirius "most awesome" Black

Author's Note:
—I love Viviane and Sirius's bond in this fic, and it's just so wholesome and pure, and ah! They are just adorable!