Black Aeon

Chapter 15

How much longer?

Harry watched in disbelief as his twin snarled at Dumbledore, spat on the floor and walked out, Marlowe and Arielle following her. He tried to catch Arielle's eye but she looked just as furious as Wylow. What he wouldn't have given at that moment to have been able to link to his sisters mind and demand an explanation.

"Well, that was incredibly childish," murmured Hermione piously, as though she would never think about walking out of a lesson or meeting in a purple fit (casually forgetting third year Divination). Ron, who was sitting in between Harry and Hermione, sighed and rolled his eyes, shifting in his seat. He couldn't have been very comfortable, as the space between his seat and the one in front had enough leg room for a normal sized person, and Ron was not average sized. Harry leaned over Ron, and whispered venomously at Hermione, "What do you expect? Her boyfriend was killed while attacking Voldemort and Dumbledore acts as though no one's ever been sent to attack Him. Plus, she's right; we are waiting too long for action."

The girl sniffed superiorly, tilting her nose up at Harry. "I'm sure that the Headmaster knows perfectly well what he is doing, Harry." Before Harry could reply, Ron interrupted. "Enough of this bollocks, I'm out of here" and stood up. He carefully edged his way out of the row of seats that they were in and followed the way the trio of Slytherins had gone.

Harry stared after him in shock. Ron had waited for two years in eager anticipation of joining the Order, and he had just walked out of his very first meeting. Still blinking in surprise, Harry slowly turned back to the podium to face the Headmaster.

*

"Ronald Weasley! What on Earth were you thinking, walking out of that meeting?"

As soon as they gained access to Ron and Wylow's private common room, Hermione descended on Ron in a fit of wrath. Harry was curious as to his friend's reply as well, despite his irritation at Hermione for hauling him out of the meeting without a chance to speak to Sirius. The tall, red-haired boy was stretched out on the sofa, a book in his hands. He quickly hid it under a cushion. It must be a Playwizard annual, Harry thought with amusement.

Hermione stood in front of the Head Boy, her hair a brown explosion around her head and her hands on her hips; a woman on a mission. "Well?! Explain yourself!!"

Ron sighed and sat up. "Shut up, Hermione." He spoke with a quiet vehemence that shocked the girl into silence for a moment, before she puffed up like an insulted puffskein. "HOW DARE-!"

"I dare because I don't need you preaching at me, alright?" he paused and glanced up as an enormous crash and grunt of exertion was heard from above them, and then he continued. "Wylow was right; Dumbledore's a fool." It looked as though it pained him greatly to say it. "He doesn't know what he's doing in this case. We should finish Harry's training and end this stupid war, one way or another." A muffled bellow echoed from upstairs, and there was another crash. Ron flinched and smiled slightly, looking upwards.

Harry didn't know what to think. Here was Ron, who hero worshipped the very ground Dumbledore walked on, admitting that his hero was... a fool. He tuned out of the screaming banshee that Hermione had become, and turned his thoughts inwards.

What should I do? Should I listen to Dumbledore and bide my time, waiting for his call to battle and training, or my sister, who had more battlefield experience than I think that she should have? Trust in Dumbledore, who has let me down before, or in 'Ganie, who stands by me no matter what?

"Guys?" he said thoughtfully to the pair arguing in front of him, Ron's face going purple and clashing with his hair. "Guys?" Harry repeated, louder. They still didn't pay any attention. Hermione's hair looked as though some one had sent an electrical charge through her. "GUYS!" Harry yelled, throwing a cushion at the two of them. They stopped yelling, and turned to look at him, shooting side ways on glares at one another. The purple tide on Ron's face receded away from his forehead, down his cheeks and neck and went to hide under his collar.

"What is it Harry?" he asked, sounding exasperated. Hermione didn't add anything to the question, merely pursed her lips and raised her eyebrows inquiringly.

Harry smiled at them both slightly. "If I wanted to learn combat, who would I go to?" Before Hermione could speak, Ron snorted and pointed up at the ceiling. "Are you bloody mad? She's upstairs right now, and she's your bloody sister! Bloody stupid question." Harry nodded, and walked towards the doorway out of the Head Pupils chambers, closing the door behind him and blocking out the noise of an argument. Some things never changed, Harry thought with a wry grin, as he headed back towards his dormitory.

~

Around ten o'clock at night, Wylow appeared in the common room, freshly showered and aching slightly from the violent exercise that she had used to take out her frustration over the situation with Dumbledore. She was slightly surprised to find Weasley still lounging on the sofa, reading avidly.

She coughed slightly. "So, I guess Granger's gone then." Weasley sat bolt up right in surprise and shoved the book behind his back. He looked at her, blinking dumbly. "I thought you'd gone to bed."

"Weasley, it's only ten, why the fuck would I be in bed?" she demanded calmly, flopping down on an armchair and tugging her towelling robe around her more neatly. Weasley looked shifty and uncomfortable. Choosing to ignore him for a moment, Wylow dug her fingers into the little pot of floo powder on the table next to her armchair, lit a fire, and threw the powder in. She spoke confidently. "The kitchens." After a moment, a house elf appeared in the flames. "Yus, Miss?"

"Hi, can I get two hot chocolates, please?"

"Of course, Miss!" The elf grinned toothily at her, and vanished. Wylow extinguished the fire and as she settled back in her seat, a tray with two steaming mugs appeared on the coffee table in front of the two of them. Weasley picked up a mug, and smiled slightly at her over the rim as he took a sip. "Thanks Potter."

"You can call me Wylow. I am Harry's sister after all."

"Sometimes that's hard to remember, considering how different you two are." He smiled at her again as he put the mug back onto the table and watched the steam rise out of it. Wylow watched the boy over her mug. In his own way, Weasley was quite handsome. If you liked red hair and freckles. Which she did rather, though she would rather have dark blonde hair and mocha coloured eyes. She took another sip of her hot chocolate.

"So what were you reading?" The question made Weasley blush, and he tried to hide behind his mug as he took a prolonged gulp. "That isn't going to work Weasley, I'll just wait until you've finished. And you can't drink out of an empty mug." The tall red head slowly lowered his mug, and replaced it on the table. Wylow looked at him steadily, her green eyes calm and focussed.

After a moment, Weasley sighed. "Damn you, Wylow," he said, before reaching behind him, removing the book and tossing it too her. The red leather spine was smooth and warm under her hands as she read the title off of the front cover. 'So You Want To Be A Healer; Volume Two.' She stroked the gold lettering gently, before placing it on the table in front of her.

"You, Ronald Weasley, want to be a Healer?" she asked. Blushing, the Head Boy nodded. "What about Quidditch?" she pressed.

"There's only so far you can go with that. And the pay fluctuates. If I were a Healer, I'd get good steady pay, and a life long career. And..." he trailed off, not meeting her eyes.

"And?" Wylow prompted him gently.

"And I want to help people. Make them better, look after them."

The more she thought about it, the more Wylow liked the idea. Weasley was surprisingly gentle despite his size. He could be patient and focussed when something interested him, and obviously Healing did. He was looking at her as though waiting for her to burst out laughing and start mocking him. Instead she smiled, stood up and moved to sit next to him. He was very warm. "Weasley, I think you'd make a great Healer. It's a great idea." A happy flush spread over his neck and ears, and he grinned at her.

"Do you really think so?" he asked eagerly.

"I know so." To her surprise, he threw an arm around her and kissed her happily on the cheek.

"Thanks Wylow. You're the first person I've told; I thought everyone would laugh." He hadn't removed his arm, so Wylow wriggled away tactfully and sipped her hot chocolate. What's wrong with me? She thought in bewilderment, looking at the tall Gryffindor through her eyelashes. Why do I find him attractive? What about Hunter? I can't disrespect his memory. I can't!!

But it wouldn't be disrespecting his memory, another part of her thought. You don't have any feelings for Weasley. You just need something to... push you onto the path of recovery. Hunter would have wanted you to heal in anyway possible; what better way to heal then with a healer?

Swallowing heavily, Wylow peeped at Weasley through her eyelashes. She wasn't used to this strange feeling of shyness; there wasn't usually anything shy about Morgan Wylow Le Fey-Potter. But than again, she had never done anything like this before. To her amazement, Weasley was looking at her in the same way, blushing softly.

"Wylow," he said softly "I think I should leave, before something we regret happens." As he stood up, Wylow acted on instinct. Grabbing the front of his shirt, she half rose, half dragged him down to her, pressing her lips to his desperately and opening her mouth to his. There was no hesitation; as soon as her lips came in contact with his, Weasley wrapped his arms tightly around her waist, pulling her firmly against himself. Pulling him down onto the sofa, Wylow slipped her hands around to press her palms to his shoulders, gently caressing his shoulder blades, arching her back so it was easier for him to undo her dressing gown. She didn't know what she was doing. Every touch he gave her made her burn with need for other hands, but at the same time, with every caress of his lips on her skin, a small part of her was healed.

Weasley's lips grazed her collar bone, tracing the lines of the sword tattoo with his fingertips. He whispered "God I shouldn't be doing this," and moved away from her. The room felt a lot colder without him near her. She stared at him, eyebrows raised, in disbelief. What was he doing?

Just as he reached the stairwell for his chambers, Wylow leapt off the sofa and ran after him. The sound of her footsteps made him turn, and he grabbed her as she caught onto his shirt, picked her up, causing her to wrap her legs around his waist, and kissing her hard. "Alright, Miss Le Fey- Potter," he murmured in her ear as he kicked open his bedroom door, "have it your way." Gently, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her over to his bed, which was very like hers only in the red and gold colours of his House. Let the healing begin, she thought and she began to unbutton his shirt as he kissed her softly on the lips. Without realising it, Wylow began to cry. Agonised, silent tears leaked out of her eyes and trickled down her throat to pool in the dip of her collarbone. Weasley didn't mention it; he didn't mind. He didn't mind knowing that when he kissed her, she imagined some one else. He didn't mind that her legs locked around his back in a way that was suited to some one shorter than he. He didn't mind that as he brought her to climax, she moaned another man's name. He didn't mind that her kisses weren't truly intended for him.

*

The next morning when Wylow awoke, she was alone. Looking around groggily, she realised that she was in her own bed, in her chambers. The thought that it had all been her imagination crossed her mind, but the deep purple colour of a love bite on her left breast told a different story, unless she had been having a very strange dream. Gingerly, she slipped out of bed and padded into her bathroom. The little clock told her that it was only around half past six, so she hadn't slept for very long. Turning the shower on, she washed her skin of another persons sweat, and combed the tangles out of her hair. Guilt was beginning to itch at her mind, and yet she felt better. Less hollow and painful than she had felt since before... Well, she still didn't feel whole enough to think about what had happened.

In their Common Room, she found Weasley reading his Healers book, sipping tea. In front of him was a rack of toast, a dish of butter, a pot of marmalade and a tea pot, with a second cup. She cleared her throat slightly, and he looked up. A smile teased the corners of his mouth. "Ah, good morning Wylow! Tea?"

"Um, sure." Confused, she sat down and watched him as he poured tea into her china cup, and pour in some milk. How could he just act so naturally? She felt awkward sitting here having breakfast with him. Silence fell as she sipped her tea and he contentedly read his book. After about ten minutes, he looked at her over the top of the volume. "Are you alright? You seem tense."

"How can you NOT be?!" She demanded angrily. Jerk! Evil... Well not really- STUPID Gryffindor jerk!! "After last night... You're so relaxed, as though nothing happened!"

"Not as though 'nothing happened'," he replied calmly, "Merely accepting what happened and taking a step from there."

"Wea... Ron, I don't love you." With that out in the open, she expected a pained look to cross his face. To her surprise, he shrugged.

"I don't love you either."

"Then why..." Wylow seemed to be having trouble making coherent sentences.

"Wylow, since Hunter died, you've been moping around the castle as though the very soul had been sucked out of you. Last night, you actually showed a sign of life, other than to attack some one with one of your pointy objects. I would have had to have been inhumane to ignore that cry for help. Plus, I'm a teenaged male, and you are a very attractive woman who happened to be wearing nothing but a robe. It would have been hard to ignore you even with only one of those reasons." The way he described it, it sounded so clinical and pointless. Her thoughts obviously showed on her face, as Weasley put his book on the table, and gently took her hand. "Wylow, I'm not going to lie to you and tell you that I'm in love with you. It wouldn't help anyway. But I will tell you this; I have no regrets about sleeping with you, and I'm honoured that you picked me as your first after Hunter. I'm not looking for a relationship; I'm perfectly comfortable just being your friend."

Feeling a little choked up, Wylow laughed slightly.

"Why, Mr. Weasley, I didn't know that you could be so eloquent."

"Get me away from Hermione for long enough and I'm a completely different person," he grinned.

"You make it sound as though you don't like her."

"Oh, don't get me wrong, I love the girl like a second sister. Which is why we argue so much. She's an overbearing smart arse, and I love her to bits." They both laughed. With the air thus cleared, the two settled down to eat their breakfast in a companionable silence.

~

"YOU DID WHAT WITH MY LITTLE SISTER?!" Harry shrieked loudly enough that the post owls scattered and the entire room's occupants turned to stare at him. As he hyperventilated, Ron shushed him as his face turning its trademark purple and clashed with his Weasley-red hair.

"Harry, keep your voice down."

"You're telling me you... with my BABY sister... and you tell me to keep my voice down?!"

"I didn't want to lie to you!"

"ARGH!!" Harry slammed his head down onto the table. This was not what he had wanted to hear about first thing in the morning. The sound of several books landing on the table announced Hermione's arrival.

"What's wrong Harry?"

"Oh, let me think. My eyebrow ring now fucking kills-"

"Language Harry!"

"And Ron shagged my little sister!"

Hermione froze in the act of helping herself to bacon. A silence echoed around the great hall as half the occupants of the school turned to look at Ron, and the other to look at Wylow, who rolled her eyes.

"Subtle, Harry, thanks for that. And now the entire SCHOOL knows my private business, I'm going for a walk." And with that, she swept out of the Hall, only to be swiftly followed by Snape. At the staff table, the reaction of the teachers varied from mildly amused (Dumbledore) and choking in shock on her toast (McGonagall).

Ron buried his head in his arms, his ears progressing up to a frightening shade of purple. "Potter, sometimes, I fucking hate you." The Golden Trio sat in shocked silence. Even Hermione had nothing to say for once. Further down the Gryffindor table, Ginny was laughing loudly, tears pouring from her eyes, as Colin Creevey helped to keep her from falling off the bench and onto the floor. At the Slytherin table, a certain pale blond young man looked sick.

~

Harry sat quietly on one of the arm chairs in his godfather's chambers, a cup of tea trembling slightly in his hands. Sirius sat opposite him, clutching his cup so tightly his knuckles turned white. An uncomfortable silence hung between them, as each snuck glances of each other, unable to truly accept the other was there.

Sirius cleared his throat. "So what subjects are you taking for N.E.W.T?" That's right, Harry thought sadly, he wasn't around when I chose them.

"Well, Transfiguration for one thing. Charms, Herbology, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Potions-"

"You actually chose to have lessons with SNAPE?! Harry, he's a Slytherin bastard! And damned freaky as well."

"My sister's a Slytherin too Sirius. Your best friends' daughter," Harry said quietly, as he looked solemnly at his godfather. Sirius swallowed, and set down his teacup on the coffee table. Wistfully, he stared at Harry, taking in his features, the piercings in his ear and eyebrow, every detail that he could feast his eyes upon. "I've missed seeing you grow up, haven't I Harry? Look at you. You're a man now. A man with a piece of shrapnel through his eyebrow, but a man none the less. Lily would have loved it. James would have disapproved, but what ever Lily liked he accepted eventually...."

He smiled faintly, and reached out to pat his godsons' knee fondly. "Prefect, Quidditch Captain, a beautiful girlfriend, good grades... They would have been so proud, Harry. Really." A lump was forming in Harry's throat, and he struggled to swallow it.

"Sirius, where have you been for all this time? Why haven't you been to see me?" he choked out, tears blurring his vision. Sirius sighed, and gently touched the ring in Harry's eyebrow. "I guess I owe you an explanation, don't I?" After a moment, he continued. "I've been searching for something."

~

Wylow and Severus walked at a gentle pace, taking in the peaceful beauty of the Hogwarts grounds.

"So you became a Death Eater at the start of your seventh year then?" she queried. He nodded, a wry look crossing his face. "Were you proud?"

"At the time, it was the proudest moment in my life, but at the same time also one of the most painful. When I was given my first mission, I thought I would burst with pride."

"Your first mission was to kill Mum, wasn't it?" She asked bluntly. He shot her a sideways look.

"Not kill." A look of quiet melancholy crept its way across her teacher's face. "The Dark Lord wanted her to either be converted to our... His cause, or to have the pleasure of killing her himself. A pleasure he was granted sixteen years ago on All Hallowe's eve. I was merely to observe her, and when the time came, to mark her."

"You gave my mother the Dark Mark?" Wylow looked at the potions Master, incredulous. The man smiled slightly.

"The Dark Lord has a way of giving a potential victim mental torment. He will have one of his Death Eaters mark the chosen one with a black Dark Mark, that never fades and never changes, unlike the ones his servants bear. It is a warning to the bearer; it tells them that they are the next on his list to die. This supposedly sends them into a blind panic."

"But it didn't work on Mum?"

"Only momentarily. After that, she merely took it in her stride that it was her destiny to either destroy the Dark Lord or to die at his hand."

For a short while the two walked on in silence, both deep in thought. Finally, Wylow broke the silence. "But couldn't she have simply escaped? Not destroyed him or died at his hand?" It seemed a perfectly reasonable suggestion to her, but it caused a mirthless smile to pass over her Professors face. "What's so funny Severus?"

"Morgan my dear, once the Dark Lord has marked you in anyway for death nothing on this Earth can save you unless you kill him first."

*

After a morning of walking around the grounds with Severus, talking about her mother and her future, Wylow returned to her common room feeling decidedly calmer. As she stepped inside the sight of her brother's spiky hair made her to pause a moment in surprise. "Harry? How did you get in here? As far as I know, Weasley is out flying or some such thing."

Harry chuckled. "You slept with him and yet you still call him Weasley?"

"It isn't as though we're about to enter into a passionate relationship Harry; it was just a one off." Quietly, she walked around the sofa her brother was seated on and sat down on the armchair adjacent to it. The two looked at each other for a moment, green eyes locking. Wylow cleared her throat. "So... how did you get in here without one of us present then Harry?"

"Ron's my best friend. He gave me the password a while ago."

"Remind me to change it please, dear brother."

"Then how will I be able to sneak in to watch Ron sleeping?"

"You know I always wondered about you two..." The twins grinned at each other, the awkward feeling fading. "So is there a reason that you are sitting in my common room all by yourself, brooding in front of the fire like a young Heathcliff?" She looked at him pointedly, awaiting an answer.

~

Harry smiled at her as he uncrossed his legs; his sister always liked to get to the point. "Never miss a trick do you 'Ganie? What if I just wanted some peace and solitude with no chance of interruption?"

"You would have gone to the Room of Requirement." She quirked at eyebrow at him, causing his smile to widen into a grin. Sitting alone for two hours waiting for her seemed much less irritating now that they were back to normal rather than awkward.

"Alright, you've got me there. I need your help for something."

"I'm not doing your Potions homework for you."

"I wasn't originally going to ask you to but now that you mention it..."

"No."

"Damn, it was worth a shot. Anyway, off the side track. Remember your rather, ah, interesting display at the Order meeting? Over my training?" His sisters' mouth twisted into a snarl and her eyebrows lowered in a scowl. Clearly the memory still irritated her immensely. "Obviously you do, sister dear."

"Did you come here simply to piss me off?"

"Not at all. I agree with you." He watched eagerly, anticipating her reaction to what he had just said. His sister looked at him for a long time, eyebrows quirked.

"...Harry, I think that for this conversation, we require chocolate digestives."

*

Half an hour and one and a half packets of chocolate digestives later, the twins munched contentedly on the muggle biscuits.

"So this is what you smuggle into school every year then. you bad girl," Harry murmured around his mouthful. His twin sniggered, spraying crumbs over her lap. He watched her, slowly chewing the chocolate and biscuit before swallowing it. "So..." he looked at her, probing her for an answer. She swallowed her biscuit and sighed.

"This is a big thing, Harry. You want me to train you in muggle fighting and in god knows how many hexes, despite Dumbledore not wanting you to be taught yet." She wriggled another biscuit out of the packet and stared at it thoughtfully. Harry watched her, nervously. What if she said no?

A slow smile was spreading over his sister's face. "I never gave a bugger what Dumbledore said anyway; I'll do it."