Unexpected Engagement

[Scoleciphobic]

Standing at the door to your large main room, you nervously wring your hands. Next to you, a hired nurse bounces a one-year-old boy in her arms. Staring at the little boy, a part of you recoils as he flashes his bright green eyes. As he reaches for you, a small house-elf steps from the room.

“Miss Carden? Master will see you now,” it squeaks.

She, you remind yourself suddenly. The house-elf is a she, and her name is…

“Thank you, Jingle,” you say absently.

You close off your emotions, becoming cold and distant, just like you had taught yourself years ago. You had to in order to survive being a Carden; the Dark Lord didn’t accept weakness. The Cardens were faithful followers and you had to keep up the family name, even if you were a female.

Ignoring the gasp of pleasure, you lift your head proudly and straighten your back. Walking into the room, you hear gasps of shock.

“Oh, Regulus, why didn’t you tell us she was so beautiful?” gushes a certain Mrs. Black.

“Because she’s a Gryffindor, Mum,” replies a brown haired boy of fifteen from one of the Italian black-leathered arm chairs.

Seeing the looks appearing on his parents’ faces, you cross your arms and glare at him. “That may be, but it isn’t my fault Dumbledore’s hat put me in the weakest house, apart from Hufflepuff. Even Ravenclaw is better, at least they’re known for they’re brains. Gryffindors are brave—just what the Dark Lord likes,” you say, as if you hadn’t been threatened into reciting it into perfection.

You glance at your father, noting the smirk, and relax slightly.

Mr. Black laughs, a cold and haunting sound, and says, “Well, Alder, she certainly has spirit. With her brains, my son’s cleverness, and their combined bravery, their marriage will only strengthen our pure lines.”<br>
“Yes, indeed,” your father replies, uncorking a fresh bottle of wine effortlessly.

He pours the wine into three glasses. Three? You wonder. Women of the Purpose aren’t allowed alcohol! We’ve only recently been granted the privilege of drinking butterbeer.

You watch curiously as your father gives a glass to Mr. Black, keeps one for himself, and offers the other to Regulus. Only your strong self-discipline keeps your jaw from dropping in shock. However, Regulus doesn’t seem to have that discipline, for his does drop a little.

“But, sir, I’m only—”

“Nonsense!” Your father says, roaring with laughter. “You’re the oldest son of the Black family, and this is a celebration. I asked permission and the Dark Lord specifically gave you permission.”<br>
This time, it’s his mother’s turn to stare in shock. But that look soon turns to one of glee. The Dark Lord favoured the marriage!

You, however, aren’t listening, let alone paying attention to this. The words ‘the oldest son’ keeps echoing in your mind. A part of you wants to scream “Sirius is a year older and five times braver! Regulus should be in Hufflepuff!” However, you don’t, and just stand there, quietly seething.

The three men, raise their glasses in a toast, and then drink. Regulus downs the glass in one gulp, his eyes watering a little. Serves him right, the little bugger, you think, mentally narrowing your eyes at him.

Mrs. Black suddenly gets up and makes her way to you. “Oh, Fuscienne, dear, we must discuss the wedding!” she coos.

“Yes, let the women go off while we discuss more important things,” Mr. Black says, causing your father to roar with laughter.

Mrs. Black ignores it completely, and pushes you out of the room. As soon as you are out of the room, she instantly launches herself into all the details of how your marriage should be. You listen long enough to hear her say that your dress will be imported from China, before tuning her out, nodding occasionally.

Your mind strays to the true oldest son of the Black household. Sirius. You mentally smile at the thought of him. The previous year, the two of you had become an official couple, and you had endured the teasing from the Marauders and your two best friends Lily Evans, and Caroline Wallas.

No one calls you your true name, and you figure they’ve forgotten it. You hate your name with a passion, honestly, who names their only daughter: Fuscienne Aislinn Carden, even if it tells a story in itself. Fuscienne Aislinn Carden, altogether, means “black inspiration from the black fortress”.

Upon getting sorted into Gryffindor, a young Remus had gratiously nicknamed you ‘Dreams’. The name stuck, and everyone still calls you it, except your family, of course. This past year, everyone excluding Remus and Sirius, had started calling you ‘Sirius’s Dream’. You had told them not to, but they didn’t relent. Finally, they had stopped, going back to ‘Dreams’.

You smile a little, but it quickly fades, receding into the corners of your abused mind. You haven’t heard from any of them at all, and school will start soon. You mentally sigh, wanting to retreat to the confines of your room, and never come out.

“Fuscienne? Dear, are you alright?” interrupts the voice of Mrs. Black.

Snapping from your thoughts, you glance at her to find her staring at you with real concern. “Oh, oh, yes, Mrs. Black, ma’am,” you lie, “I’m just fine.”<br>
She trills a high-pitched laugh. “Oh, dear, you may just call me Mrs. Black. After all, you are almost my daughter.”<br>
You force a natural-looking smile, “Why thank you, Mrs. Black. Tell me, how are Narcissa and Beatrix?”<br>
“Oh, Narcissa is finally engaged to that charming Lucius Malfoy. I dare say she’s quite pleased with the engagement, as are we all. They’ve been corresponding faithfully, you know—”

No, I don’t know, Mrs. Black, you think to yourself. I don’t really care either, but I must keep up the pleasantries, even if I’m about to marry the brother of my boyfriend.

“—Beatrix has told us that she has a fancy for Rodolphus Lestrange. Surely you know him, he’s in you’re year, too. My daughters have such good taste. The Malfoy family, along with the Lestrange family, are both of the purest bloodlines…”

You quietly tune her out again. You really dislike the entire Black family, apart from Sirius, and only tolerate Mrs. Black’s ramblings because they allow you to get as far away from your father for a few moments. Regulus can be alright, actually, if he’s not surrounded by his Slytherin friends, or hovered over by his family.

[Scoleciphobic]

Remembering the little baby boy, you mentally cringe. Alexander was a new part of your family, the son of a sister of your mother’s who had recently been murdered. Or at least, that was the story everyone had come to accept from you.

Only a select few know the truth, and they didn’t hear it from your mouth, just your father’s. None of your friends know the truth, and the lie is beginning to make you feel guilty. Not guilty enough to tell them, but enough to squirm uncomfortably when he was mentioned.

“Mum? Father would like for you to rejoin them in the common room,” Regulus says, interrupting your thoughts.

“Alright, son. Now you two behave yourselves!” she says, giggling a little.

The both of you flush, you more than Regulus, obviously, but he does. You glance at each other, smile nervously, and then look away.

“Would you care to take a stroll in that wonderful garden of yours?” he offers quietly, after a few moments of uncomfortable silence.

Knowing you have no other choice, you smile, “I’d love to.”<br>
Taking the arm he offers to you, the two of you then start for the garden. He is right. The garden is wonderful. Breath-taking, really, in the variety of colours that adorn the flowers. Your mother used to be so proud of the garden, your father had told you, and then he’d made it your responsibility. Sure, the house-elves do all the work for you, but you’re the one who gets punished if there’s so much a weed.

“It’s lovely, isn’t it?” you ask, trying to break the silence.

“Mm…that it is,” Regulus agrees with you.

You briefly wonder why he’s being so nice, but once you look at him you know why. He isn’t admiring your garden at all, his sole attention is focused on you, and you alone. You shift uncomfortably, and remove your arm from his.

You feel guilt rush through you for a moment. You shouldn’t be with Regulus, alone, and in a romantic spot. You are currently dating Sirius, and have no right to be alone with another guy, even if it is his brother.

Oh God! Your eyes widen a little. You are betrothed to marry your boyfriend’s brother! He’ll be furious, and probably hate you.

He’s probably cheated on me, you sternly remind yourself. After all, you haven’t so much as gotten an owl from him since school got out for the summer. You shiver a little, suddenly remembering the way your father had called him the oldest. Suddenly you began to worry. His family wouldn’t kill their own son, just because he refuses to follow their beliefs…would they?

Regulus must sense your shiver, for he looks at you, with real concern in his eyes. Probably concerned that if I get sick and die, his parents will disown him, you think wryly.

“Are you cold, Fuscienne?” he asks, almost pronouncing your name wrong.

He really is too young for this, you think suddenly, finding yourself pitying him. “Just a little, don’t worry,” you say, then add, “Call me Cie. It’s a lot easier to pronounce.”<br>
He flushes a little, knowing you had caught his stumble over your name. Taking off his cloak, he gently wraps it around you. “There you are, Cie,” he whispers, staring into your eyes.

Only then do you realize two things. One, you are extremely close to your betrothed; and two, he looks remarkably like his handsome brother in the dark. As he leans down to kiss you, you turn your head, receiving it on your left cheek.

“We’ll get caught,” you whisper, trying not to sound guilty. If he was Sirius, you wouldn’t hesitate to kiss him. But he is not.

He chuckles nervously, “That doesn’t matter,” he says, still trying to sound braver than he is. “They’ll be pleased.”<br>
“You’re family, maybe. My father will—” you’re cut off as a louder voice calls from within.

“Regulus?! It’s time to go home!”

[Scoleciphobic]

He smiles apologetically and offers you the arm to escort you back inside, which you take, reminding yourself to thank Mrs. Black. Or, to at least hug Sirius more often. If he hasn’t moved on, you remind yourself bitterly.

Once back inside, Mrs. Black spots you both looking flushed. “Where have you two been?” she asks, suspiciously.

“I offered to take Fuscienne out to see her garden, but we didn’t realize how cold it was, so I offered her my coat, Mum,” Regulus says, to which your very greatful he’s telling the truth.

“My perfect little gentleman,” his mother coos again, making you nauseous.

You quickly remove his cloak and hand it back to him, smiling a little, a genuine smile. “Thank you for letting me borrow this.”<br>
He flushes a little and takes it from you, putting it on himself, “It was no problem.”<br>
His mother then ushers him out the door, talking a mile-a-minute about how perfect he had been. Mr. Black shakes hands once more with your father, exchanges some hushed words, smiles at you, and then exits the room.

The nurse carrying little Alexander appears in the doorway, “Sir?”<br>
“Take Alexander to bed, Mary. I need to speak to my daughter,” your father says, his cold eyes studying you impassively.

You suppress a shudder, and glance at Mary, before following him back into the common room.

“You did well, tonight,” he says suddenly, his look appraising you a little.

You relax visibly and smile, bowing your head modestly. “Thank you, father.”<br>
He reaches into his pocket, and hands you a sack of Galleons the size of a Bludger. “You may have this as a reward, by yourself something as a marriage present from your mother, since she won’t be here,” he says.

You take it, knowing there was going to be a catch. Instead of a physically violent, he had hurt you with reminding you that your mother’s death was your fault. You nod silently, watching the floor.

“You may retire for the night, daughter,” he says, watching you. “You’re things will be packed by the time you wake up.”<br>
Snapping your head up, you stare at him in confusion. His eyebrow rises in amusement.

“Surely you didn’t forget school starts tomorrow,” he says.

You blink. You had completely forgotten! You don’t have anything your things, but know that your father has taken care of it. He wants you to do the best in school, so he can assume the impression of being proud of you for at least one thing.


You bow once more, and back your way out of the room. Once in the hallway, you sprint down it and then up the huge flight of stairs that lead to the second floor. You sigh as you pass by the nursery. Backing up, you enter to see that the nurse was asleep, and so was the baby.

You walk over to the crib and stare at him. He has already gotten a head full of hair, the same dark brown as your own. Your eyes are hazel, where his are a vibrant green. A lot like Lily’s, you think amusedly. His skin was paler than your own, more like your fathers.

Bending over, you kiss him gently on the forehead. “G’night, Xander. I’ll visit you as often as I can…” you whisper your good-bye, knowing you won’t see him in the morning.

Glancing at his nurse, you shake your head, and then leave the room. You hurry down the cold corridor to your own, and shut the door behind you in relief. For a while, you thought your father was going to be furious about you being alone with Regulus. Sighing, you step away from the door and into the darkness of your room to get ready for bed.

A few minutes later, you lie in your bed, warmly snuggled under the blankets, staring up at the canopy covering your bed. Tomorrow is going to be a long, strange day, and you know it. Rolling over onto your side, you close your eyes.

Sirius’s face is the last thing you see before you drift off to sleep.

--

Scimitar: I got the meanings for the names from www.babycenter.com/babynames

This is going to be a rather strange story, as it is. There’s going to be a lot of You and possible pairings…including a one-sided You/Severus. I want it to turn out an eventual You/Sirius, but I’m not sure…we’ll see how it goes…<br>
I have Sirius captured and chained in my room, so when I get to him, I don’t think he’ll seem too OOC. If he does, then I suppose he’s had too much carbohydrated drinks…and/or sugar.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything that sounds like it comes from one of the Harry Potter books. Those belong to JKR. I do own the name Fuscienne Aislinn Carden, because, really, who would name their kid that? I own Alexander, I own Master Alder Carden [Alder means ‘eagle’ by the way], and I do own the plot.

Warning: Rating is due to the referring to adult situations, language, and some violence. If I feel the need to up the rating, I will. Flames are NOT welcome, but some constructive criticism is. The chapters are also always rather long.

Reviews: Reviews are my reason for living! I have to have reviews to update this story. So review! Please!