𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐏𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐔𝐌 [𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐞𝐫𝐚]

act one, scene five

A tawny owl holding a letter with the Hogwarts crest tied to its legs tapped its beak on the Mitrans' kitchen, and all Netra could feel was anticipation. She was by far the least popular Gryffindor girl in her year—Preethi, at least, had friends in Ravenclaw that weren't just her brother. Netra hoped that her O average, a position as the reserve Beater in her third year, and enthusiastic participation in the Frog Choir and Hogwarts Ensemble was enough to give her a position as a Gryffindor Prefect.

In all honesty, she fully believed that it would be Lily Evans, the well-known teachers' pet.

"Well, go on," urged her father, Ajay Mitran, raising an eyebrow.

A sinking feeling made itself home in Netra's gut as she untied the letter from the owl's feet and closed the window behind it. Nervously, she made her way back to her seat at the dining table, feeling as though her parents' stares were burning holes into her head. Netra unsealed the envelope and pulled out its contents, laying them out on the table

There was no red and gold prefect badge shining in the light.

Damn it.

Netra looked up, doing her best not to show her nerves, meeting her parents' gaze head-on.

"Of course. What else should I have expected?" Ahalya Mitran scoffed.

"Forgive me, Amma, Appa" Netra said tonelessly.

Her father stared at her, shook his head, and left, his full plate still on the table. Her mother did the same, muttering under her breath.

"Honestly, I don't know where we went wrong with you! A Gryffindor is the definition of brainless! You could've at least had the decency to be Slytherin if not Ravenclaw! I'd bet all your Os are favouritism on Dumbledore's part. You can't even make prefect! I suppose it should be a blessing Professor Flitwick even let you into the Frog Choir," hissed her mother, slamming the kitchen door behind her angrily, leaving Netra alone with her breakfast.

Netra pushed away her plate, appetite gone, fighting back angry tears. She felt restless. She didn't want to stay home—not after all of that—but where else could she go? Preethi wouldn't get it. The Patils were adamant on their children achieving the very best, but at the same time, they were supportive. Unlike the Mitrans, the Patils weren't Dark. They weren't Pureblood supremacists and they cared for their children's mental well-being—a novelty in the Wizarding '70s.

In fact, the only person she could think of that might get it was Black. Now there's a hilarious thought. Black is a git and wouldn't understand why she cared as much as she did.

Yeah, there's no way I'm owling Sirius fucking Black about not making prefect.

For once she was grateful that Dumbledore had so much trouble finding DADA professors, because if this letter had come any earlier, she doubted she could've stayed in her parents' good graces for as long as she did.

Netra ran up to her room, casting a Silencing Charm on her feet because she didn't want to be yelled at for making noise (which happened fairly often when her parents were upset with her). Sighing, Netra decided to write the Patil twins. Didn't make prefect, what about you lot?

She then wrote another message, telling her parents that she was going to go get her things from Diagon Alley, just in case they moved away from their rage long enough to notice. She didn't have an owl and the family one was out, so she would have to send Preethi and Praveen's message while shopping.

Netra ran back downstairs after getting her purse, and took her booklist from the dining table.

"Diagon Alley!" she exclaimed, throwing the green Floo Powder into the fireplace.

Netra stepped forward, wiping the soot off herself, and found her face buried in someone's back.

Honestly, who stands in front of a fireplace??

She took a step back once again, brows furrowed in confusion for a split second before the person turned around.

"Merlin, Black, can't you stand anywhere else?"

Sirius glared, "Fuck off, Mitran."

"What's got your wand in a knot?" Netra scoffed, offended.

"Haven't you heard?" Black asked. "You just had to go and not make prefect, didn't you. My parents got a Floo call half an hour ago, sealing my engagement. With you."

There was a beat.

"You're joking," Netra paled. "You've got to be joking."

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. If he's joking, it's not fucking funny. Preethi had a plan to get Praveen and I together this year. If this is true... Praveen and I don't stand a chance.

"I'm not joking," Black said hotly. "I'm bent! You think I want this? You think I want to even bloody think about this?! I was glad no girl would take me because I'm a blood-traitor, but your parents just had to accept, didn't they?!"

Black's eyes widened in horror. "Fuck."

"I don't give a shit about whether you're bent or not," Netra said furiously, her tact escaping her as panic set in.

I didn't think they'd set a marriage contract for me! They didn't have one!

"What are we going to do?" Netra breathed. "You're gay, I like someone else—neither of us want this."

"What can we do, really?" Black asked sardonically. "There's no way brute force or blatantly disobeying is going to break a fucking contract."

Netra bit her lip, having to concede to Black's logic even though she didn't want to. As a Gryffindor, she found it extremely hard to accept that the brute force way of doing things was not going to get her results. Planning things out always took so much more effort.

The whoosh of flames behind her—a tell-tale sign that someone was using the Floo—reminded her of where exactly she was standing, and Netra dragged both herself and Black out of the way.

"C'mon, we should probably talk about this while we go to get our things. You're here to get the things on your booklist, right? Or is it to escape that hell-hole of a home you have?" Netra asked, letting go of Black once she was sure neither of them would be burnt or run over by the Floo users.

Black couldn't help but crack a grin at that, keeping up with her pace as they made their way to the bookstore. "A mix of both, honestly. I thought I had some time before they decided to marry me off to some poor sod," he sighed.

"I didn't think they'd marry me off at all..." Netra mumbled.

"How'd you manage it?" Black asked. "You were their golden child right up until today. Gryffindor in a family full of Dark Ravenclaws, but somehow it's not being a prefect that ruined it?"

"My best friends are Ravenclaws from a shady family and I'm fairly musical. Flitwick and Slughorn think highly of me and aren't afraid to say it, and I took Arithmancy and Runes, which made them less upset when I took Care, too. You, on the other hand, make it your life's mission to piss Walburga and Orion off."

"You didn't want to take Arithmancy and Runes?"

"I was fine with Runes—they're honestly fascinating—but I wanted to take Muggle Studies instead of Arithmancy."

Black stared at her, and Netra could feel the judgement seeping off him in waves. "How are you a Gryffindor when instead of fighting to change your parents' racist views, you pretend to agree?!"

"I would've gotten off easy if all I got for taking Muggle Studies was a Howler and a couple crucios in the privacy of my home," Netra said darkly. "Look at what they went and did the moment they realized I didn't make prefect!"

There was a beat of silence, broken only by the jingling bell that rang when Black opened the door to Slug and Jiggers Apothecary

"Our families are fucked up," Black said.

"Pieces of shit reeking to high bloody heaven," Netra agreed, scowling.