Distant Rain

On the morning of September the First, 1971, it was not only raining, but pouring. Great torrents of cruel, icy water came slamming down to London in sheets, stabbing at unprotected skin just as surely as any set of miniature knives. The stormclouds had painted virtually everything grey, so the general mood of those at King's Cross Station was sullen and gloomy. The magical folk gathered on Platform 9 ¾ were no different, either, and the nervous fear of the young wizards and witches embarking on the Hogwarts Express for the first time was somewhat contagious.

One such first year was standing with her family a short distance from the train. She had her cloak wrapped tightly around her sleight frame to ward off the rain. Only parts of her were visible, such as the stringy strands of unkempt black hair that obscured her visage, and the wide, terrified eyes that darted fearfully, taking in as much of the station as they could. She was clinging to her brother's hand, and though he appeared to find her fear amusing, he was still attempting to solace her, bending down from his great height to whisper reassurances. Her other brother was lowering the hood of his cloak and running his hand boredly through his well-kept, shoulder-length hair. Several girls passing by eyed him appraisingly, some giggling. They always did.

"This bloody weather," he said loudly, paying no attention to the females or his other siblings. "My boots shall be ruined."

"Never mind your boots, Dante," his father drawled. He was a stately man, despite the grey that had begun to show in his dark, slicked-back hair. Deep wrinkles adorned his face, and his grey eyes that all his children had inherited were cold and stern. He wore a fur-lined cloak.

"You will take Isadora to your cousins, Nikolai?" said his wife, an equally stately woman who had seemed to gain the favour of age. She was no less tall than her husband was, and her expressionless face lacked any wrinkles or blemishes. The son she had addressed was the only child who had inherited her fair, nearly white blonde hair, and her own was bound tightly in coiled braids, despite its length. The way she had asked the question did not sound at all like an inquiry, but an order. She stared unblinkingly at him, her gaze aloof and slightly out of focus, as if she did not care at all for what she was looking at.

"Yes, mother," said Nikolai, slightly exasperated.

"Then do make haste and take her, Nikolai," his father said, less than kindly. "The train shall be leaving any minute."

"I know father."

"Everything is on the train, Master Llewellyn. All the trunks and cages," warbled a house-elf in a tea towel. There was a cloaked wolf stitched visibly upon the filthy garment.

"You all ought to board, then," Llewelyn said dryly, not even regarding the creature.

Dante had already begun to stroll towards the direction of the train, the group of girls inconspicuously stalking him as he walked. As Llewelyn and Beauty Disapparated, Nikolai started walking towards the train as well, his sister in tow.

"Come, Isadora," he said. "Do not cling to me so."

"But I'm frightened, Nikolai," she protested, though she obediently let go of his hand. "I'm frightened. What if I'm not Sorted into Slytherin House?"

"I won't lie, Father will be furious," Nikolai informed her.

"I don't want Father to be furious with me," she moaned, her already pale face white with terror.

Nikolai simply looked at her, unsure what to say. There had to be some way to reassure her, but he honestly did not care enough to think of one.

"Our family has been Sorted into Slytherin House for many generations, Isadora," he finally decided, pulling the hood of her cloak down once they got on the train. "Unless you are blatantly defiant, I don't see why you should be an exception."

"I'm not defiant," she told him as they walked along the aisle.

"Of course you aren't," he agreed. It was not false encouragement. They had paused before a compartment, and Nikolai had removed her soaking cloak, hanging it neatly on a nearby rack, glancing worriedly at her as he did. She seemed to float in the shapeless, loose-fitting robes, she was so thin. He hoped that her slenderness would not give off the impression of poverty.

"Are you ready?"

She peered at him through her hair. Wide, horrified, nearly translucent grey eyes.

Her voice was barely above a whisper: "Yes."

"What will you do?"

"Be formal."

"And?"

"Not speak unless I am spoken to."

He brushed her hair away, out of her eyes and her face. Her eyes seemed all the larger with fright without anything to shield them.

"What else?" he asked.

"Be still, and don't say anything to you or to Dante."

He smiled a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Very good. Come."

The compartment contained four people. Their brother Dante sat nearest to the window, next to a boy with sallow hair. In the seat across from them sat two older girls, both with long, shining black hair and pointedly aristocratic features. Their striking beauty made Isadora shy slightly away from them, but Nikolai had his hand on her shoulder. He urged her forward. The girl on the right, the one sitting nearest to the window, had one brow raised and was smirking slightly at her. Isadora averted her eyes.

"Lucius," Nikolai said, smiling warmly at the fair-haired boy.

Lucius nodded.

"Nikolai," he said flatly. "Sit."

They looked more like twins than like cousins. Nikolai had inherited his mother's fair Malfoy features. Though he was taller and thinner than Lucius, with distinctively more feminine features, from a distance, one couldn't tell them apart.

"This is our sister, Isadora," Nikolai said, gently pushing her one step in front of him. "She'll be starting her first year."

Isadora swallowed down her heartbeat, eyes darting from the girls to Lucius to Dante. Dante was looking out the window, saying nothing. Lucius had one brow raised, eyeing her appraisingly, and the girls seemed to not care at all.

"I see," Lucius said finally, and gestured to the empty seat next to the girls in the seat in front of him. Nikolai gently pushed her in that direction, and she sat down immediately, shoulders hunched and head bowed. She saw Nikolai sit in front of her, and remembering herself, straightened.

"Bellatrix, Andromeda, how were your holidays?" Nikolai queried.

Isadora's eyes wandered to the girls sitting next to her. Up close, she noticed that the one sitting nearest to her wore a vapid, bored expression, while the other had her brows raised, leaning back against the seat with her arms crossed at her breasts. Though she was slouching, she was slouching in such a way that she didn't look like she was slouching, and gave off an aura of haughtiness. She was the fairer of the two, but Isadora felt no better being near to her, especially after how she'd looked at her a moment before.

"Just lovely, Nikolai," she said. "I simply adore your mother's parties. Always exciting. This year's was no exception."

Her voice dripped with sarcasm.

"I'm glad to hear it," Nikolai said dryly in response. Isadora wondered briefly why he responded the way he did when Bellatrix obviously didn't mean what she said, but she remained silent.

"What about you, Andromeda?" Dante asked, speaking for the first time since Isadora and Nikolai entered the compartment. "Surely mother's party wasn't the only event of interest that took place over the holiday."

"Yes, Andromeda," Bellatrix said, sitting up slightly to better look at her sister. "Tell Dante all about our visit with the Lestranges. What did Rabastan say about you again?"

"He said I was spirited," Andromeda said, nay, mumbled. She was blushing, but had not bowed her head from whatever shame she felt. Isadora felt badly for her.

"Spirited!" Bellatrix exclaimed, her eyes glinting maliciously. "I believe that 'difficult' was the word he used, Andy darling. Can you believe that, Dante? My sister Andromeda, difficult."

"No, I can't," Dante said in agreement, smirking.

Isadora glanced at Andromeda. The older girl looked very much like she was about to cry, and Isadora suddenly hated Dante for it.

"What of your other sister, Bellatrix?" Dante queried as if Andromeda weren't even there, raising a brow and leaning back slightly in his seat. "I would think that she would be the difficult one."

"Indeed," Lucius said before Bellatrix could reply. "I believe that she was the elusive one at Mrs. Roquelaure's party, Bella, what did the Lestranges say about her?"

"Nothing of interest, actually," Bellatrix replied offhandedly. "Narcissa behaves herself when she wants to. The Lestranges were quite impressed with her."

"I see," Lucius said pensively.

"I thought that Narcissa was the same age as your sister, Dante," she went on, and Isadora's heart lurched unpleasantly in her chest as she was mentioned. "I wasn't aware that she was a year older."

Please don't speak to me,

Isadora thought desperately, not moving from her position of sitting still and staring at the wall in front of her. Sweet Merlin, please don't let her speak to me.

"What's your name again, girl? I don't recall you being there at your mother's party," Bellatrix said, leaning over Andromeda to peer at Isadora as if she were a rare piece of steak on display at the butchery.

Her pulse racing, Isadora turned slightly to look at her, and tried not to flinch. She really was the epitome of beauty, this Bellatrix Black, and Isadora did her best to not turn away due to sheer intimidation.

"My name is Isadora," Isadora finally said, her voice distorted slightly by fear. "I...I didn't attend my mother's ball. I'm glad to meet you, Miss Black."

Bellatrix lowered her thick eyelashes for a moment, and then she laughed, a shrill, hyena-like laugh that was completely devoid of mirth.

"Be glad of that, darling," she said finally, smiling coldly. "It really was quite boring."

"Yes, it was," Lucius agreed. "But what of your mother's Christmas party this year, Bella, will your cousins be attending?"

The conversation picked up around Isadora, and she was again ignored. Glancing at the Black sisters and then at her own brothers, she realized that she was grateful for it, and retreated into her own reverie. Hours later, the train finally came to a halt.

"Oh good, we're here," Bellatrix said, causing Isadora's heart to beat frantically again.

"Wonderful," Lucius agreed. "It only took forever to get here..."