Genetics • Sirius Black

Chapter Forty One: Sustenance?

For a moment, I considered Sirius Black to be more than my enemy, and I was fool to do so. 

"Many people would be truly envious to be in your position."

"I suppose I should thank you for awarding me the pleasure of your company." Freya Grey had not a lick of sincerity in her words as she drained the fox leaves into a jar. It had been nearly three hours since she had started working, and she managed to find one of the issues with her initial attempt; she mixed in the Wolfbane too late, resulting in thicker clumping.

Her hair was loosely braided behind her back, and she smelled faintly of mint.

"No, need, but I do like flowers." Sirius Black smiled and leaned over the counter across from her on his elbows. A flicker of a grin came as soon as it went on her lips, then she took off her goggles and turned off the fire. He watched her carefully. Despite having been there for a couple hours together (he said he had nothing better to do because if he went back to his door Remus Lupin would guilt him into doing homework, this was false since they barely talked anymore, but Freya chose not to comment on this), he still found himself asking. "Are you leaving so soon?" Typically, he was the one dragging her out of the lab in the wee hours of the morning or tricking her to take breaks by claiming he could hear someone outside and forcing them both to hide underneath the sinks with the lights off for a moment when she looked like she was about to blow a fuse.

"The dance is tonight." She answered, putting a dirty cauldron in the sink.

He stood up and helped her with the clean-up as he always did. "Oh, yes. The Slug Club superiority celebration, how could I forget?"

Her brow lifted lightly. "You know Lily's a part of that club."

"A rose among thorns." He explained dismissively, and she rolled her eyes. As he scrubbed a spoon, he glanced at her. "Why do you busy yourself with stuff like that? I find it hard to believe you enjoy it."

"All of life is not about enjoyment." She replied, then stopped her cleaning for a moment. "Though, I must say the dresses are quite nice."

"Let's not forget the shoes." He pointed out.

"Of course."

Still, Sirius was not satisfied with that answer. After all, through his time spent with her, he knew Freya hated most people, and society for that matter, often finding them to be unnecessary and ineffective. "If you're not being forced, and it's not for pleasure, then why attend?"

"Connections." She answered honestly, though she thought it would be obvious. "Slughorn knows people in the ministry and so do other members, you should know how these things go."

"Greasing palms; I forget about how everything comes with endgames for you." He remarked, somewhat bitterly, every now and then forgetting that she was not only opposing him for conversation but rather in lifestyle entirely. Sirius had spent his entire life getting away from the parties and Freya seem to spend her entire life trying to get into them.

"Everyone can have plans, but not everyone is willing to execute them." The curly-haired girl was neither ashamed nor offended by his words. "I find socializing to be a small price to pay."

His eyes drifted down to his scrubbing. "And how does Barty fit into these plans?"

She seemed amused by his question. "Despite what you may think, I do not keep company with people solely for the potential benefits."

"Son of a ministry leader, and heir to the Black family." He pretended to think about it. "Yep, you are really going for personality."

"You are right, I should avoid everyone with well-off parents, that will definitely help." She stopped her clean to theatrically ponder for a moment. "Though, I suppose that would include you. Shame." Shoulder shrugging, she resumed her work and he glared at her.

"You are very funny."

"I know, I have been told I am quite endearing."

"Barty does not count, he's trying to get into your trousers."

Unbothered, she turned to him. "What is your obsession with Barty?"

"I'm not obsessed, I'm curious." He explained and she hummed in response. "I just don't see it."

The two were so similar, but they fell on opposite spectrums in his mind. Slytherin. Bright. Cunning. Arrogent. But, something about it did not fit right, the concept of the getting along seemed wrong and unnatural.

"I recall you thinking the only boxes I cared for were money and influence. Have your opinions of me changed so drastically already?"

"No." Obviously, not. Freya Grey was a cold mad-woman who would slice someone's throat if it benefitted her, Sirius reminded himself, had it not been for this little project they never would have crossed paths and he would be free of her presence. Still, he could not exactly form why Barty and her together bothered him so. "I still think you are pretentious and mean, but... you have more... sustenance."

"Sustenance?" Arrogance curled around the word while she dumped out the now clean pot and then set it on the counter. "My, my. Sirius, I never knew you were such a poet." Her eyes met his as he placed another clean vile next to her pot face down.

As he dried his hands with a rag, he looked down at her. "You are entirely rude, Ms. Grey."

"So, I have been made aware." One of her little half smirks pranced on her pink lips, and Sirius's grey eyes dropped there for only a second, before returning to her mischievous eyes. Dark as night, glimmering, not with stars, but with secrets and curiosity. There was something about it that made him feel as though if there was any mystery to the universe, she would uncover it.

Almost a whisper in his mouth, he said. "The dance will bore you."

"Being bored is not the crime you make it out to be." She matched his volume, vaguely aware she could smell his cologne and see the flecks of darker grey in his eyes. Then, she suddenly took a step back, and broke her gaze. "I'll see you tomorrow, Sirius."

"Tomorrow." He affirmed, trying to seem aloof.