Chapter Text
She'd caught his attention almost immediately their first year.
A pure blood, a fact he knew to be true due to his mother's incessant blabbering on about “proper bloodlines”. Thankfully, he found she looked nothing like her elder brother. A pretty little thing, with pale skin and black hair so perfectly kept it almost looked to be made of silk. The main feature he'd noticed, though, had been her eyes. Pools of hazel twinkled with the slightest glimmer of gold when she found something fascinating or amusing in any sort of way.
Pity they were usually hidden behind large glasses.
He'd never admit his fondness for the Slytherin girl. It would bring his parents far too much satisfaction and his friends would no doubt tease him for it. Instead, he added her to the lengthy list of people he enjoyed messing with.
It started out slow but, by their second year, he was a master at getting a reaction out of her.
The legs of the chair screeched against the hardwood as he scooted closer, peering into the cauldron. “Looks a bit odd, Rowle.”
The girl rolled her eyes, tossing in another mistletoe berry. “So do you, but you hardly see me mentioning it.”
He enjoyed teasing her the most, out of anyone on the list. She was extremely receptive, hardly missing a beat in giving quick retorts back to whatever nonsense he'd spewed out at her. A feistiness hid behind the prim and proper demeanor she carried so well for her family name. The only time that exterior ever cracked, much to his delight, was of his own doing.
Sirius grabbed the large chunk of Unicorn horn, aiming to drop it entirely into the mix. “If you find me so odd looking, Rowle, then why do I often find you staring?”
Another eye roll was given as she grabbed the ingredient from his calloused fingertips. “If you ever find me staring at you, Black, it's because you've gone and done something extremely idiotic. So, in that case, I suppose I am looking your direction quite often. That's too much, you oaf.”
The boy waved her off. “It's not as if he's actually going to have us use this. He'd have to use a potion on someone first.”
“I surely hope I get to turn you into a toad.”
“Oh, so you can put me in your pocket?”
“You wish. So I could flush you down the toilet where you belong.”
The brunet grabbed at his chest, clutching his robes dramatically. “How you wound me.”
Delicate fingers dropped the more precise amount of ground Unicorn horn into the mix and the potion turned a gleaming teal. “You hardly helped, you know.”
He leaned closer, chin resting on his palms. “Why do you think I chose you to be partnered with? Knew you could do it!”
“Ah, Mister Black and Miss Rowle, a perfect batch! As expected from you, Miss Rowle.” She shot the boy a gloating look and he shrugged. “Now, care to test it?”
Sirius eyed the way his partner's face lit up, gold flecks shining brightly as her eyes widened. “Yes, please, Professor!”
Slughorn waved toward the cabinet. “Go on, then. Grab a potion, use it, and then test your antidote.”
“Ooh, do you have any Drink of Despair?”
Sirius cringed, pushing himself out of his seat to follow her to the cabinet. “You are not using Drink of Despair on me!”
The girl only shrugged, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she trailed her finger over a few bottles. “Fungiface?”
He faked a gasp, patting his face. “And ruin perfection, Rowle? I think not!”
The faintest hint of amusement made the corners of her lips twitch and she turned back. “Fungi may be an improvement.”
“Evil witch!”
“Hair Dyeing?”
“And ruin my luscious locks? Denied!”
“I've got it!” A small blue vial was held up in her hands and a bright smile was pasted on her rosy lips. “Muffling Draught!”
Steel grey eyes rolled in annoyance, and he was quick to grab the potion to put it back on the shelf. “Absolutely not.”
“It would surely help you. Though I don't suppose I'd be tempted to use the antidote afterwards.”
“Hilarious. Really.” The older teen grabbed a yellow bottle and held it out. “Volubilis?”
The girl clicked her tongue, grabbing the glass bottle and brushing past him. “Fine. Surely it couldn't make you more annoying.”
“Careful what you wish for!”
He still managed to find ways to annoy her with it. Singing in a deep baritone, prancing around the classroom until Slughorn insisted he sit back in his seat. Telling scary stories in the deep voice until she whacked him on the hand with her quill. Circling around the table when she tried to force him to take the antidote.
Only finally, when class was nearly dismissed, did he oblige, downing their creation and blabbering on about nothing until his voice returned to normal. “You know, Rowle, you should really be my partner more often!”
“You wish. I know the only reason you ran to that seat is because you're nearly failing.”
He made a noise of disagreement, watching as she grabbed her book to leave. “Nonsense. I am not nearly failing-”
“You are. I'm not blind. The four of you parade around acting like absolute morons. That's why Potter stuck with Lupin and Pettigrew went off with Severus, poor thing. Lupin is the only one of you lot even remotely paying attention.”
“Alright, so perhaps I needed to complete today's lesson with perfect precision-”
“Smarter than you look, Black, I'll give you that one. Picking me for today was just about the smartest thing I've seen you do all year.”
“Better get your ego in check, Rowle. No one likes a gloater.”
“You would know. Your ego is nearly as large as the dining hall.”
“Know what else is large?”
“You're disgusting.”
He grinned, letting out a chuckle. “Say what you want, but I was going to say the lady in the painting guarding our dorms. What in Merlin's name were you thinking?”
“Only that you're an idiot and I'm clearly losing brain cells by allowing you to blabber on.”
“Oh, is the Princess of Slytherin too good for my presence, now?”
“Any member of Slytherin is too good for the likes of you, Black.”
The voice was immediately recognized, belonging to the reigning prefect for her house. “Ah, Malfoy, always a displeasure.”
That one got the corners of her lips upturned in a way the eldest Black son found himself growing fond of. They immediately fell, though, as she regained her composure enough to turn and face the current head of her household.
“Hello, Lucius. How have you been?”
The tall blonde nodded, narrowing his eyes at Sirius. “My final year has been very successful thus far. Though it does concern me slightly to see a potential future prefect being harassed by a Gryffindor.”
The young girl waved her hand, now fully turned away from said Gryffindor. “He's harmless.”
“He's a nuisance. A disgrace to his name.”
“Care to say that to my face, Malfoy? Or do you simply do all your trash talking to the girls so they can pick your battles for you?”
“You heard me, Black.” The older wizard turned toward the girl, not noticing the way her teeth dug into her lip to bite back a chuckle. “If you're headed back to the dorms, Rowle, I can accompany you.”
“Oh because your company is so much better than mine.”
Hazel eyes flickered toward Sirius and she gave him a look, a sort of silent plea for him to shut up.
He'd oblige her this time, and he'd mentally note that look for the next time he saw her. Surely he could find a way to tease her about it.
Nimble fingers grazed the prefect’s robe, moving past and tugging lightly at the dark material. “He's not worth the argument, Lucius. I am headed back to the dorms, though, if you'd care to accompany me. I would be delighted to hear your plans for Christmas. Oh, and do tell me how things are going with Narcissa. I've not seen her much as of late.”
“Of course.”
The two Slytherin students carried on, moving down the corridor. Sirius simply rolled his eyes, turning on his heel and making a face. His voice would come out mocking, for no one in particular to hear but himself.
“Of course. Bloody idiot.”
The next time he'd see her was, much to his dismay, in the comfort of his own home. Or, rather, the discomfort.
Every year his mother threw a party around the holidays, and every year he wanted to be anywhere other than trapped in a home full of pure blood supremacists. His mother's disdain for him had been at an all time high lately, fueled angrily by his clear appreciation of his differing house from any other Black in history.
A Gryffindor in both spirit and ideals.
The only semblance of peace that night walked into his home in pristine perfection. He couldn't help the way cool grey orbs followed her from across the room as she entered his home, heeled boots clicking against the old hardwood. Regulus wasted no time, nearly pouncing on the poor girl before she even had a chance to hang her coat. The sight threatened to make his elder brother puke.
He was a year younger than them, having just started at Hogwarts not too long ago, but Sirius found his brother's ego was quite unmatched.
He watched, in mild disgust, as Regulus followed her around, blabbering on about how good he was at just about everything. That is, until he found he could no longer stand the sight. It took all of thirty minutes before the elder Black son found himself hiding from judging stares and whispered comments, moving towards the kitchen to fake grabbing a snack.
He was hardly hungry.
A crash caught his attention from the opposite end of the kitchen, and the teen found himself strolling over casually to see what caused the noise. His eyebrows shot up the second he found a familiar form kneeled over a now broken glass. Her head lifted once she heard him coming and he found himself surprised by the slight sense of relief that shone on her otherwise mortified face.
“Sirius-”
“Making a mess already, Rowle? Tsk tsk.”
Relief was quickly replaced by annoyance and she continued attempting to pick up the shards. “Go away, then, if you're not going to help.”
“Never said I wasn't going to help. To be fair, you hadn't even asked, though.”
“Well, consider this me asking. I'd like to clean it up before your mother notices. She already hates me, I fear.”
That caught his attention, and he knelt beside her, grabbing her arm to stop her. “You'll be in quite a gruesome match for my mother's least favorite person, I'm afraid. Don't think you'll be taking the top spot from me anytime soon, regardless of how many dishes you might break. Kreacher!”
The cranky elf appeared almost instantly, a scowl on his face as he saw the mess. “Kreacher must always clean messes. This time, mess from a girl ungrateful of Master Regulus’s affections. Idiot girl.”
Sirius noticed the way her cheeks flushed in embarrassment and she scooted away from the elf on her knees, hissing in pain when a stray shard dug itself into her skin. “Oi, quit moving about. Let me see.”
A streak of bright crimson appeared across the floor as she moved her leg to stretch it out. “Ouch.”
“Quit being a baby. Have you got your wand? Use a healing spell before you make even more of a mess.”
The girl huffed and rolled her eyes. “Mother made me leave it at home. Do you have yours?”
“Upstairs. Come on then.” The girl let out a squeak of surprise when she was lifted to her feet and fell into his chest. “If you're looking to make a move on me, Rowle, you need not injure yourself as an excuse.”
Another flush blossomed on her cheeks and he was quickly swatted at the front of his vest. “Idiot. You should be so lucky.”
“Ah, yes, so lucky. Who wouldn't want the Princess of Slytherin falling all over him? Surely that is every young lads dream.”
“Seems to be your brother’s.”
It was a mumble under her breath, but he heard it anyhow. The slightest bit of discomfort was noted on her otherwise stoic face as they walked up the stairs to his room. He took it as a sign that she was less than pleased to have gained his younger brother’s attention as of late.
“He still chasing you about, my brother?”
She folded her arms beside him and nodded. “Yes. I think your mother may have mentioned something to him.”
She had. Of that, Sirius was certain. She'd mentioned the necessity of keeping bloodlines as pure as possible and blah blah blah.
He'd tuned her out not long after she'd started, and only found himself paying attention again when the girl's name was mentioned as a possibility.
He'd found the whole idea nauseating.
“She wants to keep the bloodlines as pure as possible. Yours is pristine. It makes quite a lot of sense.”
The words tasted bitter as he spoke them and she was quiet for a bit after, only speaking again once they'd made it into his room. “He thought it would be impressive to show me a blasting curse he picked up already. Used it on a spider he found outside. It was disturbing.”
That sounded like his brother.
“What a charmer.”
“I told him he was disgusting.”
That got a laugh and Sirius found himself coughing wildly when he couldn't get any air. “Bloody hell! You really went for it, Rowle.”
“Shut it! It's not funny. I think he may have told your mother and now she won't even look at me!”
“That must be a relief. She's got a creepy stare when she's upset. Rumor has it she turned all those poor gargoyles to stone outside the school.”
“My mother is going to be so upset when we leave. She wanted me to mingle for my future.”
“How delightful.”
He watched as her gaze scanned the scattered posters on his wall, lingering in disgust at a few of women in bathing suits. “Your mother has surely written me off, now.”
He'd be mortified if he wasn't preoccupied with fixing her wounded knee. “I'd say I'm jealous, however, I'm fairly certain I'm already in the same state as you with that.”
“What do you mean?”
He tapped his bed, motioning her to sit as he grabbed his wand off the nightstand. “I'm sure you'd noticed. I'm not much of a fan favorite around here. What with my house choice at Hogwarts.”
“Oh, right, I suppose not. Did you choose, though? I mean, the hat has its own mind. I don't believe it allows students to pick much of anything.”
“Episkey.” The wand was waved over her knee and the bleeding stopped, the wound now void of any evidence it ever existed. “I think perhaps it knew I wanted to be in Gryffindor.”
“You wanted to be in Gryffindor?”
“I'm not fond of the beliefs of most Slytherins. Pure bloodlines. Murder the Muggles. All that. Are you?”
She shook her head, swallowing thickly and glancing at the door to make sure no one was listening. “Well of course not. Lily is one of my best friends and she's Muggle born.”
“Precisely. Yet, here you are. Mingling for the pleasure of your parents. Attempting to keep the bloodlines pure.”
“That's not fair. You'd likely do the same if your mother asked.”
He snickered, waving the wand over her torn stockings. “Reparo. Fairly confident I won't be a part of the pure bloodline marrying pool, anyhow. I'll be disowned long before then. Lucky me, not having to marry any of the disgusting idiots that would've likely been options for me.”
“Right. Disgusting idiots.”
The words had been spoken sooner than he'd had a chance to fully mull them over. She needed only a second to take them in, and his eyes widened as he found his mistake. She would have likely been one of his options, perhaps the best of them, though he wouldn't admit it.
He'd just called her a disgusting idiot.
“Suppose you'd like to use that Muffling Draught now, eh?”
“Surely. I'll be taking my leave. Thank you.”
He noted the way her tone had dropped, void of all previous amusement. If he thought on it too long, he'd find he rather hated the sound of it. Hated the way her hazel eyes dulled behind those large frames, as well.
Her name was called from somewhere downstairs and she immediately moved off the bed, held in place by the feeling of warm fingers grasping at her own. “Sirius?”
“Hm?” Too lost in his own thoughts, he hadn't noticed his reaction to her leaving until he felt her tug at his hand. “Oh! Sorry. I don't know what came over me.”
He let her go, but she remained in place. He watched as she gnawed at her inner cheek, clearly contemplating saying something. It was unlike her. Usually she would be more than happy to speak her mind.
So, he spoke first.
“I'm sorry. I didn't mean-”
“It's quite alright.”
“No, I shouldn't have said that. Not to you.”
“Behind my back, then?”
He groaned, pushing himself off his bed to stand face to face with the shorter girl. “Would you stop that? I'm trying to apologize.”
“And failing. Miserably.”
“You're insufferable.”
“You're arrogant.”
“You're a prissy princess.”
“You're an oaf.”
Neither noticed how much closer they'd gotten until they were nose to nose, breathing each other's air. The tinge of a faint blush littered her cheeks and the older teen found his gaze drifting between her lips and her eyes, bright flecks of gold shimmering in the latter.
“Are you going to kiss me or not?”
Her blush was brighter once she'd asked the question aloud, and he let out an airy laugh that mingled with a taste of candied fig that he found he wanted more of.
She'd clearly fancied the preserves his mother had put out with the crackers.
“That what you want, Rowle? Fancy a kiss?”
“You wish.”
The gold shimmer faded slightly and he could sense he was taking too long for her liking. She was likely taking it as a sort of rejection. After all, Sirius Black was never known to be hesitant when he wanted something.
So, he brushed his knuckles along the side of her jaw and leaned forward slightly.
“And if I do? Wish, I mean.”
The tip of her nose bumped his and his gaze rested on her lips as they parted slightly, with the faintest hint of some sort of pinkish colored gloss he found himself eager to taste.
“Then I'd find myself shamefully admitting that, of the two Black brothers, you are much more appealing.”
He snickered. “A low bar, really. That meant to be a compliment?”
“Just kiss me, you bloody idiot.”
“With pleasure.”
He wasted no more time, gripping the junction between her jaw and behind her ear to pull her closer. She gasped lightly, tangling her fingers into thick, dark locks and pressing herself against him. The kiss was bruising, a build up of any and all hesitation they'd allowed to brew over the past couple of years. He found himself overtaken with the desire for more, hungry to taste more of that ridiculous jam his mother had spent far too much money on.
He'd always hated the hors d’oeuvres his mother dragged him around to purchase throughout the years but fig jam, he found, he'd no longer complain about.
She followed his lead, no doubt far less experienced than he, moving her lips to match his movements and parting them when his tongue slid over her bottom lip.
He pulled away for a moment, allowing them to breathe, and he was met with the delightful sight of that familiar, pretty girl, eyes heavy lidded and cheeks brightly flushed. No sooner had he leaned in for another go, was the familiar sound of another male voice heard.
“You've got to be joking. Are you two snogging?”
She pulled away almost instantly, distancing herself from the elder Black boy and staring, mortified, at the other. “Regulus! It's, um, it's not-”
He turned toward Sirius with a snarl. “Mother will hear about this. She'll be absolutely livid with you for even thinking of-”
“Obliviate.”
The wand was waved without thinking and Regulus walked back downstairs without another word. Once he was gone and the faint sound of chatter resumed, Sirius let out a sigh and tucked his wand back into his pocket. He glanced over to find her staring at him in absolute shock, eyebrows raised in a nearly comical way.
“Did you just erase your brother's memory?”
He shrugged, rubbing at the back of his neck and avoiding eye contact. “Figured it'd be better for both of us if he didn't blabber on to everyone downstairs. Probably best if they don't think I'm a future wife thief and you a harlot that snogged the reject. Though I suppose my reputation couldn't get much worse with this lot, eh?”
Her shoulders dropped and she took a step toward him, only to be brushed past as he ignored the look of pity in her eyes. “Sirius-”
“Come along, then. We've got a party to pretend we're enjoying.”
They avoided each other the rest of the night, only meeting gazes every now and then when they thought the other might not be looking.