𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 | 𝑶𝑩𝑳𝑰𝑽𝑰𝑨𝑻𝑬 ─ 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝒙 𝒐𝒄

𝐖𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞

⭒๋⭑
When you know you know

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In the weeks following our last supper at Grimmauld Place, we decided that Sirius would play nanny to Hermione whilst Andromeda and I were at the hospital.

At least until we could sort out the whole Hogwarts debacle.

Among the four of us, Sirius had the most flexible job. He was an artist, you see, his forte being statues and paintings.

Meanwhile, Remus was employed as a magizoologist at the central wizarding zoo in London. He'd always had a fondness for creatures, ever since our Hogwarts days.

So much so, he ended up marrying a dog.

My head was throbbing with a persistent migraine as I navigated the hospital corridors. ─ A far too common occurrence for my liking.

Headaches exponentially ruining my day, flashes of light blinding me for prolonged periods until my mind would finally give in, and I'd succumb to sleep.

Andromeda suggested it was stress. I've had these spells since my parents' demise, and years on, they persist.

The tonic Andy concocted to aid with the episodes worked wonders, but I was always wary of becoming reliant on them.

They were addictively tasteful, and I felt empty without them.

"You're avoiding me," accused a voice from behind, causing me to jump. Papers flew in every direction, and my Pince Nez glasses shattered on the floor. The sound of the breaking lens made me clench my fists.

"Black," I growled  in annoyance, bending down to assess the damage, my wand stirring to arrange the papers. Each sheet fluttering back into my arms in their rightful order.

All I needed to ease the headache was this nutty witch screaming in my ears. As if she hadn't picked up on the hint after I'd spent the entire week evading her.

"Occulus reparum," I muttered, mending the cracked lens. "What gave you that impression?" I asked, dripping with sarcasm, turning to prepare some coffee.

That's what I needed. More caffeine. That, and a hitman. I wondered how much it would cost to place an order to get rid of Narcissa.

I placed my clipboard on the table and pocketed my glasses alongside my wand.

"I don't know, maybe the numerous requisitions from my department to your ward, sent by my sister?" she mocked, wrinkling her nose.

"Or perhaps when you threw yourself, literally, into a cleaning cupboard upon seeing me approach? Or maybe today, when you climbed six flights of stairs to avoid sharing the lift with me."

"And why do you care, pray tell?" I retorted, not even bothering to deny it, tense as another wave of pain hit me.

My legs trembled, and I quickly pulled up a chair to sit down, burying my head between my hands. Had I not sat, I'd have fallen.

Did this really have to happen in front of her? What would she do if I fainted? Probably leave me lying there, then prod me with her foot.

Another image invaded my brain. Narcissa catching me, not letting me fall. Her hands on my waist, her fingertips pressing into my skin.

No, she'd use her nails.
This fucking wretch feline.

A hand touched my shoulder. Contrary to what one might expect, its touch wasn't cold like that of a dementor.