/𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒\ [𝒔. 𝒃𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒌]

𝟕.𝟚.𝟤

"and I can't be running back and fourth forever between grief and high delight." ~ J.D. Salinger

~august 1976~ (continued)

Artemis had been dreading the midsummer's eve party for her first month at the Goyles. She knew it would be awful. She knew she'd have to play nice with the dark wizards in order to pull as much information out of them as possible, and she knew she'd feel sick by the end from all the fake smiles and forced pleasantries. But something odd was happening in the Goyle house that week. For the first time since she'd arrived, her aunt and uncle seemed happy. Giddy, even. They kept looking at Artemis and then back to each other like they were hiding some exciting secret, but Artemis dreaded knowing what it was. Knowing her family, it couldn't be anything good.

Her aunt got her a green dress for the party. Artemis frowned as she turned around in the mirror, sizing herself up. She'd lost weight in the last month. A lot of weight. She couldn't help but realize she looked more sick than anything else, like she was slowly withering away. Part of her missed the signature red she'd worn to all of the Goyle gatherings, a color that made her feel stronger and more rebellious, but the green was subtler, and she wasn't in the mood to make a statement. Not that night. Maybe not for awhile. Her energy was draining, her confidence dwindling. The spark that made had kept her searching for trouble and excitement for the last six years seemed to have gone out.

The party was crowded, and Artemis kept to the edges. She smiled a little, remembering the night she and Sirius had made their rounds at a Goyle party, chatting everybody up only to poke fun at them after, tipsy on firewhisky they'd stolen from her Uncle Gregory. She wished he was there, but at the same time, she was glad he wasn't. She knew it would make him sad to see her now, eyes deadened, blankly engaging passers by in conversations about the weather and making offhand comments about the "state of the wizarding world" like it wasn't directly affecting her.

Then, she saw him.

It was a bob of dark hair at first, a flash of cold, pale blue, solemn eyes. Then a sharp chin, a hooked nose, and a birth mark she knew only to be her brother's. Percy. He was there. In the flesh. A little taller and a little thinner and more gangly than ever, but he was there. So that's what her aunt and uncle had been so secretive about the whole time, was her first thought. She was frozen, unable to move, with no idea what to do.

But it started as a tingling in her fingers and moved up her spine. A waking up, a re-igniting of a flame she couldn't even remember going out. Percy was there, and he was standing right in front of her, looking at her like he didn't even recognize her, and she could feel her heartbeat in her ears. It was anger and sadness mixed with the sharpest relief she'd ever felt, and she didn't know if she wanted to throw her arms around him and weep or punch him in the face and walk away.

She didn't do either of those things. She opened her mouth, then closed it. Then, finally, "Great party, isn't it?"

The words came out sarcastic, and Percy's lips, identical to hers, twitched upwards in a smile. "Well, the Goyles never fail to disappoint."