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chapter sixteen

"CHILD OF CAPULET"

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     The Hufflepuff common room had an orange tinge to it that night, as Emilia made her way out of her dorm room, past the sleeping plants, to sit next to the fireplace. In general, the common rooms in the school looked like they hadn't been updated considerably since the school first opened, back when Henry VII was on his second wife or something. Sometimes, the sofas had spells casted onto them to avoid the fabric tearing, and the records had been changed to suit the current times (that was one thing — they had acquired a gramophone) but other than that, the common room probably didn't look any different as to the one the first batch of Hufflepuffs used.

     Emilia twiddled her thumbs as she waited. It wasn't even one in the morning, so she was surprised that no one was still lingering about, sneaking back downstairs to have a little more space to finish up homework. But she wasn't complaining. She didn't know how her godfather would react, if someone overheard anything, even if it was unimportant.

     Surprisingly, though, she still wasn't scared of him. To her, he was still just her godfather, just her uncle, just the man that took her and her siblings in when their mother didn't want anything to do with them. She had always been the slightest bit frightened of him, but she supposed that was because of her siblings, and the way that they were scared sick of him. But, now, she knew that he wasn't a nice person. She knew what he would happily to keep himself and his family going. And, truthfully, she thought that it was terrible, that he was terrible, and that she wished that she could have nothing to do with him, but for now, she had to.

     So, she sat and she waited. It was a few more minutes until the embers in the fire morphed, and the face of her godfather appeared. She straightened up her posture, and tried to look less irritated that (a) she had to speak to him, and (b) she was losing sleep. For this.

     "Emilia Elodie," said Capulet. Em forced a smile. She had to be nice still, she couldn't do what she wanted, and refuse to speak to them. She couldn't help it! She felt bad, but she didn't want to be a part of her family. She knew she'd always have the surname cursing her with the legacy that it's led, but now, she felt like it was better for her to leave them. She could still open the fashion house, she could still do everything that she wanted.

     And she knew that her friends would be more than happy to help her out! Her friends would be more than happy if she turned around and asked to stay at one of their houses. Em knew that her friends hated her family. And, really, as long as she had her best friends, her chosen family, she didn't need to one that she shared blood with.

     But, for now, she had to play along. It would be dangerous not to. Especially when she's talking to the head of the Salvatore clan, Capulet.

     "I've been thinking, since we last spoke, and I can easily give you the money to start up this  business," said Capulet. Even though she couldn't see it, she knew his body posture would be something like, I am important, listen to me... Peasants. "Although, with this business, I feel as though, perhaps, you could also help out with the business my friend is running. You'd like it, that's why I keep on mentioning it. It's going to prosper. It's wise idea, really, to join."

     "What even is it?" asked Em.

     "Ah, well, it's difficult to explain in this manner..." Capulet frowned. "I must explain it to you when you return home for Christmas. That would be best, yes... And then, we can discuss my friend's business, and what you can do, personally, to help it."

     Em was this close to saying she didn't want to help. She can get herself a job once school finished, she can save up to open her own shop, she can do it on her own. It might take a little longer, but it would be more rewarding. But, she knew that her uncle would get pissed off if she said anything that denied his word. So her brows furrowed, and she asked, "What's your friend called? Maybe I can find something out."

     "Ah, well, the problem is, the newspapers don't like him," said Capulet. "They dislike him, and for no reason, really. I think that it's rather unfair, treating the best of us like they treat him, and allow the dirtiest to get good jobs and good houses, when they really should belong to us clean wizards."

     "You mean pureblood," said Em. "And, anyway, I know that the newspapers aren't always right."

      "He was called Tom Riddle," said Capulet. "He doesn't like that name, however..."

     Tom Riddle. Why did that ring a bell? She was sure she had never met him before, she would've remembered if she met him when she was younger, her godfather would've mentioned it if she had met him, even if she was too young at the time to remember. She hadn't met him, so why did she recognise the name?

     The conversation, for a few minutes, turned into a discussion about her schoolwork. A couple of times, she might've told some white lies, because she knew that she'd get her grade back up in Transfiguration, it would be back at it's usual grade by the time her uncle was formally told what her subject grades were. But, for a while, they talked like they used to, before Em made this vow to prove that she wasn't as useless as her family believed.

     And, yeah, she was aware that she might've forgotten about the plan to send letters forging her head of house's handwriting, because her godfather was obviously convinced that he had sorted that out for her. She wanted to make them think that she had gone bad, but right now, she didn't know if it was smart of her to anger her family, her godfather especially.

     "Well," said Capulet. "Your brother has been home recently... I didn't realise he was getting so out of hand lately! It's difficult for your godmother, really, having to deal with Chandler whilst I'm away, helping my friend. I've been thinking whether or not to just sort out this problem."

     Emilia, who wasn't listening as much as she should've been, nodded. "Uh, yeah, I suppose," she said. Her godfather nodded, and through the fire he looked pleased. She didn't know why. She wasn't going to fight it, though. May as well stay under her godfather's I-hate-you-I-will-try-and-ruin-you radar for as long as possible.

     "I must sort it out soon, I'll inform you when it happens," he said. Truthfully, Emilia still didn't know what she had encouraged, but she thought it was best just to nod along for now. If they were meeting in person, she'd now expect her godfather to be holding some form of drink, swirling it slightly inside a fancily-decorated goblet, and looking around thoughtfully. He paused for a couple of minutes. Em raised an eyebrow. "Since we last spoke a fortnight ago, Emilia Elodie, I have been speaking to my friends. You might like one of them, in fact..."

     The sent off alarm bells in her head. Emilia, panicking, told him, "Oh, would you look at that! I need to go to sleep, I've got a couple tests tomorrow... Nothing important, but I want to do OK, so, um..."

     "I'll speak to you soon, Emilia Elodie," he said. She nodded, and she forced a smile before his face left the ashes. She watched his facial features simmer out of the burning wood. This whole thing felt so—so stupid! She don't know what had sparked this latest addition, but she couldn't help it. Her family weren't good. And she knew that her friends would support her if she needed it.

     Could she, though? Could she pack the last of her stuff and leave her house, never to return? She knew, for her own wellbeing, it was the best option. It wasn't exactly the easiest, and Merlin knows how her godfather will react (considering Em still thought he had something to do with Rupert's death, that he was capable of it...) but she wanted to sort this out. Was it bad of her to want something more than a family, in which her siblings all hate her, and her father figure wanted her to follow him into the darkness?

     She didn't think it was terrible that she was thinking about this. She did feel bad about it, don't get her wrong, but she could see the other side to it. The side that's often voiced by her friends, the ones that truly care about her.

     Em frowned. The clock in the common room stated that it was twenty minutes to one o'clock, but she didn't feel tired. Her mind was wandering around a labyrinth, and she knew she wouldn't be able to sleep properly whilst that was occurring. So, she changed her position next to the fireplace, crossing her legs and sighing to herself. She should've brought a book, or something. Not that she'd find one that she'd be able to concentrate on for two hundred-plus pages.

     She looked at the last of the fire. Maybe she could do the thing again, if she tried...

     Raising her hand, she tried to copy what she had done the first time, but it was no use. Nothing happened, except for a pathetic curl of smoke. She tried another time, and again, nothing but smoke. Em grumbled, moving to hug her legs. Although the dorm rooms in the Hufflepuff basement were cozy, they weren't warm enough that pyjama shorts could be worn, so Emilia was wearing her pyjama bottoms, the ones with the bunny pattern over the black fuzzy fabric.

     This is ridiculous. Why is this even something she can do, anyway? What makes her any different to anyone else, feeling too much? How is that even measured? None of it made sense to her, and she wanted her godfather or someone to explain it properly. She didn't work well with ideas that weren't concrete, that weren't simplified to a basic, this is what it is and this is why you've got it. She didn't want someone to waffle on about emotions or whatever, she just wanted a basic explanation that was as simple as possible.

     She saw the fire resurrect itself, flames twirling inside the fireplace. Em glared at it. Now it does it. I can't believe I'm getting pissed off at fire, she thought. What am I, a fucking caveman?

***

     Breakfast the next day felt the same as breakfast the day before, and the day before that, and the day before that; Em would arrive a couple minutes after her friends, she would walk past her own house's table and sit down at the Slytherin one, for a couple minutes she would feel bad about it, especially when the girls from her dorm looked at her, just before she made the turn to the table with the green decorations. Then, Em would greet her friends, her friends would greet her, she'd forget that the Slytherin table had shitty croissants, so she'd grab a few from the table she should've been at, returning to her friends and handing out the best croissants the school had to offer.

     But, just as she opened the door that led into the hall, she was taken aside before she could walk past the Hufflepuff table, go to the Slytherin table, return to Hufflepuff to steal croissants, and then finally reside at the Slytherin one for fifteen minutes, until she left for her first lesson. Instead, before any of that could happen, Sirius had taken her to the side of the hallway, his hand on her arm. Truthfully, she didn't know what she had done wrong. And, really, the look on his face felt familiar, but not enough that she recognised it, or what it meant.

     She figured she had done something wrong. She figured she'd be told that she was useless, or that she was weak and pathetic. She waited for it. And, when he smiled brightly at her, she felt incredibly confused.

     "You're amazing," he said. "You know that, right?"

     Emilia's eyes had widened to the size of saucers. "I—I am?"

     "What you said to Moony yesterday!" said Sirius. It took her a minute to remember what she had said. She had an inkling about why he was there — she wasn't completely stupid, she knew it was fishy that he looked panicked when she mentioned the full moon — but she didn't think it was that big of a deal, the way she just asked if he wanted anything from the kitchens. Did she something important? She didn't think so. Unless the joke about being a Seer was some prediction, or something, she didn't think she said anything noteworthy. "I didn't know how you'd react to it, and it's not my secret in the first place to tell you — but shit, Em! That was amazing of you! I shouldn't have thought you'd be any different, but you never know with, you know, the thing!"

     "I don't see what's wrong with it?" said Emilia. "Are people prejudiced about that, too? What?"

     "Both that, and he's ashamed of it," said Sirius. The smile on his face had faded, which she understood. She was still confused, though. For one, she was surprised she hadn't done anything wrong, and she wasn't getting shouted at for it, but also, she didn't say anything out of the ordinary? She reacted like most people would? She thought, at least. "But you were so great about it! I shouldn't have thought you wouldn't be — shit, Em, you're just—"

     "Amazing?" she finished, raising an eyebrow. Sirius, to her own surprise, looked less put-together (or, at least, he was rambling, which was a first) than normal. Em smiled at him. "I didn't think I did anything different. It's not like my family has some deep-rooted history where a, um, you-know-what killed an ancestor, or something. It's not like that would affect me, anyway, I wouldn't blame them for it... But, um, I won't tell anyone."

     "I didn't think you would," said Sirius. He was smiling again, only it wasn't as excited and joyful as the first one. It was just a nice, soft smile. She liked to see him smile. She liked to see most people smile. Their happiness made her happy. "But — that thing about your family..."

     "I'm conflicted," said Em. She leaned against the wall, and he stood close, his hands in his pockets. "I spoke to my godfather last night, but, I've been thinking about it... I know it sounds a little sudden, and you're probably going to think I'm stupid for thinking it can be so easy, but um—"

     "You want to leave them?" he asked. Slowly, her eyes met his, and looking a little pained, she nodded. Sirius pulled into a hug; her brows furrowed for a second, as she felt him kiss the top of her head. She stepped back, looking up at him. She felt like she'd miss out on half of a conversation if she didn't see the other person's facial features. "I don't blame you! And your friends are as good to you as mine as to me — who needs a shitty family?"

     Em frowned. "Are you serious?"

     He gave her a look, and started to laugh. For a minute, she frowned, until she realised what she had said. She smiled. See? She was getting better at this. It was OK to make silly mistakes. Everyone does. It's fine.

     "Funnily enough, I am," said Sirius. He continued to laugh, and she allowed her to give in, to laugh too. No one was angry that she made a silly mistake. She didn't need to beat herself up for it. "You're seriously thinking about it, though? Leaving them?"

     "I mean, the idea's still pretty new," said Em. "But I think it would be for the best?"

     "From what you've told me, it will be," he said. "I know for you, right now, it's scary thinking about it — but as soon as you leave them behind, you feel so relieved! You're not making a big deal out of nothing, Em... If you think it's the right thing for you, you should do it. Especially with what's going on in the world right now, you're going to be far safer away from your godfather. It's your decision, but I just want you to be safe."

     Em stared at him. Until the start of the school year, she had three people that wanted her to be nothing but safe. There had been three people that she wanted to be happy and safe and alive, with no exceptions. And now there happened to be another — and although the thought took a minute to sink in, as soon as it did, she wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tightly. He hugged her back, and although she couldn't see it, the candles on the walls were flickering a little brighter than usual.

     It was almost as if, further down the island in London, there wasn't a man letting himself into a house he didn't belong in. There wasn't a man walking behind him, strangely resembling a beast, with a wicked grin planted across his face. And, there wasn't the first man's godson sitting in his home, unaware of the two intruders until his godfather stepped into the kitchen, a disappointed look painted across his facial features as he said, "You're a disgrace, boy."

     And the man that resembled a beast didn't step forwards, his grin widening as he morphed into something that wasn't human; his teeth didn't shred the godson's skin, and the godson didn't scream in agony, pleading for his godfather to help, for his godfather to save him from the monster.

     It was almost as if, down in London, a godfather wasn't defending his blood, prepared to cut out the weakest links to keep the crimson strong.

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sorry chandler can't come to the phone right now, why, because he's (not) dead (but he's dead to capulet oh dear oh dear)

also!! if there are any typos in this, i apologise bc i got a new laptop (it's a macbook and i want to cry it's my new child i've wanted a mac for so long omg it's sad how happy i am) and i'm still getting used to the different keyboard, so yeah.

but, i hope you enjoyed! let me know what you thought! :)

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