Harry Potter 1. Rodmilla

Sequel to A Captive Path. Not required to read, but it does make the setting a bit easier to understand! This is roughly eighteen years after Harry Potter failed to defeat Voldemort.

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Abandoned Paths

by May

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Chapter 1:  
Rodmilla

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"There's a secret garden she hides..."

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The seasons in New England were so clearly defined, especially in the countryside Rodmilla had grown up in. Winter was harsh and unyielding, while spring was long in coming but certainly worth the wait, color bursting forth all over, from the grass to her mother's lilac trees. Summer was short, sweet and hot, sticky and filled with humming insects, hummingbirds, cool lakes and afternoons spent reading in tree houses. And then there was autumn, a brilliant riot of color and crisp scents, of comfortable coolness and her mum's hot spiced apple cider. A season she hadn't seen at home for six years, not since she'd started school.

There was already a chill on the air in late August though, a scent among the still-green leaves and ripe fields that was unmistakably crisp and holding autumn's promise. It was Rodmilla's favorite time of year, and it was also her favorite scent, drifting through her open windows on the last golden afternoon of August. The sixteen year old girl was finishing up the packing of her school trunk, the mark of a summer well-spent all over her, from freckled pale skin to sun-touched strawberry hair. By the end of the school year she would be dimmed again, but looking forward to another summer.

Her littlest sister was sitting on the window-seat of Rodmilla's tower bedroom, reaching up and running her small fingers through the crystals and prisms hanging from the curtains. Cacilia was facing another school year at home, being ten years old and the last of her brothers and sisters. The previous year had been rather lonely for the girl without her five elder siblings, but then, she'd also gotten something one rarely got in their house: the illusion of being an only child. Still, she greatly envied her older sister, and drilled her with questions about school.

"And you'll tell me all about your London weekends?" Cacilia asked for the umpteenth time, looking out over the lake and surrounding woods while the evening sun lit on her pale blonde hair. Rodmilla smiled softly, crisply and perfectly folding a uniform skirt, tucking it into her trunk next to her Slytherin scarves,

"I wouldn't dream of leaving a single thing out," Rodmilla assured her, rolling up a green and silver tie, "And you'll write me, telling me all about your music lessons?" At that Cacilia rolled her eyes slightly toward the pointed ceiling above, turning away from the window to look at her sister with a rather bored look on her young face,

"You mean the lessons during which my tutor learns more from me than I do her?" The ten year old asked in reply, before smirking back at Rodmilla, "I'll tell you all about them."

"Good," Rodmilla grinned back, crossing the swirling blue and silver carpet to her dresser. Picking up two of the small jewelry boxes there, she brought them back to the open trunk on her bed, while Cacilia looked on in interest. Rodmilla carefully and lovingly wrapped up the boxes for safe travel before placing them in her trunk, the silver clam-shaped one in a blue silk scarf, and the carved wooden box from India inside one of her mittens.

The younger girl knew that inside of the clam (which was in fact an heirloom from their mother's mum, who'd been dead for many years), was a necklace of gold coins, which their father had bought for Rodmilla in Rome when she was fourteen. She wasn't sure what was in the wooden box, though. Her sister hadn't brought it with her last year. Cacilia thought that it must have been the ivory combs she'd gotten for Christmas, or maybe the Amethyst friendship ring she shared with Oubliette Lestrange (Oubby had the Topaz one). But no, Rodmilla was wearing that at the moment, as she almost always did. Cacilia was just about to ask after the mysterious box, when a voice called up to them,

"Milla!" Their brother Alexander shouted from the spiral staircase that came up through the floor of Rodmilla's room, "Cacilia! Dinnertime!"

"Coming," Rodmilla sang down in reply, closing and locking her trunk before turning and reaching out for her sister's hand. Cacilia hopped down from the window, taking the offered hand and pulling her older sister along down the stairs.

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The Nott house was really a few turrets away from being a small castle, and it was easy to get lost in the oddly set up labyrinth of a home. The family, however, had been there since before Rodmilla and her twin Rodrigue had even been born, and as such it was warm and quite familiar to everyone who lived there. While also, of course, being of a practical enough size to house a family of eight, their house elves and the servants.

Hurrying down the staircase, through the music room below Rodmilla's room and then down another floor into the main house, the two girls made their way through a passage and then out into the main hallway, which led to the grand staircase of the house's main stone entrance hall. Rodmilla arrived at the head of the stairs just as Alexander was finishing a splendid slide down the banister, his Gryffindor tie tied 'round his head, putting his ashy blonde mop up at all angles.

"Bravo!" Rodmilla laughed, her long green summer dress swishing around her ankles as she descended the stairs. Alexander turned from where he'd landed, giving his sisters a dramatic bow, his tie hanging in his face. A light, musical laugh echoed through the main hall behind him, a sound all of them had heard since they were babies, and were thus very familiar with. And it made the twelve year old boy turn swiftly, his face red as his mother appeared in a vision of waist-length blonde hair, sandaled feet and silvery grey robes, looking like a paler, mature version of her daughters with moon-shaped earrings and a long string of blue glass beads hanging from her slender neck.

"Fancy meeting you here, mum," Alexander coughed theatrically, as his sisters lighted off the stairs behind him. Luna just smiled, reaching out and pulling the tie off of his head and straightening his hair with her ringed fingers.

"You're lucky I am the one who saw you," She said in her drifty voice (which, her children well knew, was never as distracted as it sounded), fixing the collar of his shirt as well, "Your father would not have been as amused."

"What can I say?" The soon-to-be second year Gryffindor gave his mum a charming smile, "Schoolboy enthusiasm!"

"Methinks you've played that card to exhaustion this week, Alexander," Luna informed him wryly, kissing his forehead and pushing him lightly in the direction of the dining room. Turning back to her daughters, Luna smiled wider, looking up at Rodmilla, who was a step above her, "Have you finished packing your trunk?"

"Just completed said task," Rodmilla hummed, leaning forward and kissing her mum on the cheek. As much as the children all loved their parents, they were not usually so affectionate. But there was something about the last night before they left for school that drew everyone closer. Rodmilla fancied it was the simple fact that for as long as she could remember, they had all been a crowd together. In fact, the very first sibling she could clearly remember being born was Cacilia, who was the youngest. Whenever even one of them had to leave for some reason, everyone felt the distance, their mother perhaps most of all.

"Good," Luna replied serenely, just as her third daughter was hopping down the stairs two at a time above to join them, "You've finished packing too, Claudette?"

"Packing?" Claudette replied, in a voice much like her mother's, which was almost odd to hear seeing as how she looked so much like a little female version of her father, "Oh yes that," She smiled, "Still have a few things...floating about..."

"We'll finish tonight then," Luna turned to keep walking, motioning them to follow, "For now, dinner is on the table," And her three girls followed her, Cacilia close between her two older sisters, not wanting to miss a moment before they left.

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Theodore Nott was a highly imposing figure to most. He was an attractive man of thirty-five, but somehow his looks only made him more unsettling with his height, silent demeanor, piercing stare, and the fact that he'd been a sworn Death Eater at a rather young age. He happened to enjoy having this effect on outsiders, and occasionally his children (more often his youngest son), but in his own home and at the head of his dinner table, his family saw a very relaxed, pleased father of six. And the fact that this was the last night he would have a filled family table until Christmastime made him wish to savor it all the more.

From her seat to her father's left, Cacilia was also taking in the scene with a fond, serious eye. She wanted to memorize it all, as time seemed to pass so slowly for a little girl when she had no siblings around to be her constant playmates. The table was, as always, a very traditional setting. Her father was at the head and her oldest brother at the opposite end, talking in whispers with his twin. Rodrigue and Rodmilla had always been like that, even as they played and interacted with their friends and their younger siblings. There were still twins, with their odd connections, and even something as simple as asking what the other was studying in Arithmancy was talked about in this whispering manner, that shut the rest of the world away.

The three girls were all in a row to Theodore's left, while Luna, Alexander and their middle son Laurent sat to his right. It had always been this way, and Cacilia remembered vividly how odd it had felt a year before at dinner on September 1st, with just the three of them, her parents and her.

"I'll expect the usual letters on how you and your siblings are keeping on in your studies," Theodore directed at his eldest, who in turn gave his father a nod, and a small smile,

"Weekly," Rod promised, drinking his lemonade. Alexander looked over at his brother with a smarmy grin,

"And he means school studies," The younger boy reminded him, "Not your piles of poems about the way," And here he seemed to be quoting from memory, eye drawn upwards as he clutched his heart, "...the sunlight catches upon fair Oubliette Lestrange's flowing ebony tresses?" Across from him Claudette giggled just slightly, while Laurent rolled his eyes and Rod turned a deep shade of red, looking down at his plate.

"Alexander..." His father's voice reached his ears, and Alexander glanced tentatively up at his father, still grinning but now in a rather sheepish manner, as Theodore's unamused gaze fixed itself on him, "Have you been into your brother's notebooks again?"

"I was looking for his old Transfiguration notes?" Alexander tried, and was not bought so easily.

"One more breech of sibling privacy, young man..." No one was quite sure what would happen, should one more anything happen. But it was certain that no one ever allowed one more anything TO happen, after that tone of voice. All of the children loved their father, but they also knew better than to cross him, or their mother.

"Yes sir."

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"Breech of sibling privacy!" Alexander exclaimed later that night, falling into his bed in the tower across from Rodmilla's, in the room he shared with Laurent, "And just what, I wonder, is forcing two brothers who don't get along to share a room called?"

"Teaching us to cohabitate," The thirteen year old Slytherin reminded his younger brother in a mumble, as he lie in the hammock across the room. For all of the Utopia-esque charm of home, there had to be friction somewhere. It manifested itself between the quiet, somewhat brooding Laurent, and the adventurous Alexander, who was far too much like his namesake and Grandfather Alexander Lovegood for his own good.

"Well clearly, that was rubbish," Alexander stared up at his sloping ceilings, strewn with Quidditch posters and his mum's aura-guard, "We've spent a whole summer in the same room and we still don't get along..."

"You do not get along," Laurent corrected boredly, as he wrote in one of his many green leather-bound notebooks, "I sit, and say nothing, while you make fun of my hair."

"It's pouf hair!" Alexander broke out into adolescent giggles, clutching his sides, "It's longer on one side than on the other!"

"Oh, you are DEAD, Nott!" Laurent growled, only partially enraged as he grabbed a pillow from his bed and lunged across the room, intent on sibling suffocation...

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**Author's Notes: **Heehee, hiya again! I've been working this out for a while, less serious and more for fun than the fic that started this. For those involved in the RPG, this is all just AU, I don't want anyone to think they're getting a peak at future plot events mwaahaahaa. Sit back and enjoy! Everyone from the last fic will be showing up here somehow...somewhere...  



	2. Velveteen

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Velveteen

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"Night has come, to hold us young..."

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Outside of The Heights, as Luna so fondly called the house, the countryside was pale and shadowy under the starlight. Night breezes blew whispering through the tall trees in the woods, while the lake lapped against the pebbly shore and reflected the stars up to illuminate the water. Against this mirror of the night sky two lithe silhouettes were running, their feet pounding in muggle trainers softly against the dirt road that led away from the large house. They ran until the lakeshore curved off away from the road and the tree-line began, at which point they left the road to cross over the cool, bluish grass. Slipping under the trees, their feet took them down familiar paths through pines, beeches and sycamores, until they found themselves under one especially huge oak where they stopped, catching their breaths.

"Remind me again, why we do this?" Rod asked his twin as he leaned back against the tree, the scratchy, gnarly bark snagging on his faded old jumper. Beside him Rodmilla was far more jovial, the wind catching up her wispy whipped hair as she walked around the tree, clearly looking for something. She looked rather ragamuffin as well, in faded, nearly-outgrown denim, patched knees and fingerless gloves. This was also part of their September's Eve rite.

"Because," Rodmilla said gaily, finding her quarry with a triumphant grin, and tugging down the rope-ladder with gusto, "It's tradition!"

"And it's i fun /i ," A third voice joined them from the shadows, coming forward from the opposite direction of The Heights. Rodmilla heard her brother suck in his breath for one unguarded moment, and she grinned, watching as her best friend joined them under the tree. Oubliette Lestrange was all pale skin and wavy dark brown hair that fell down her back, her green eyes shining with a devious smile, and she was probably the only thing on earth that made Rodrigue Nott come unhinged. She too was dressed in old play clothes, patched corduroy and a scarf round her neck.

"But," Rod finally managed, "They all know we're out here. So really, it is a non-secret secret tradition."

"Which means we won't get in trouble for being out late the night before we leave for England," Oubliette reached out and mussed Rod's mop of blonde hair, "Shall we then, my fellow nursery mates?" The slightly older girl asked of them in a secretive way. Rod slowly smiled back, reaching up to climb the old rope-ladder first and make sure it was still steady, before he would let the girls follow...

The treehouse had been built one summer years ago, when Theodore had been sent to do work in New Zealand. Rod and Rodmilla had both been ten years old then, listless and anxious for something to brighten their time. Thus, Luna had taken it upon herself to have the treehouse built in the woods, far enough away from the main house for the children to feel independent, yet close enough for safety. It was a lovely blue little building charmed to adjust as the tree grew around it, with thick walls and a roof that kept out rain and snow. Many a summer night had been spent in that tree, there being enough room for a hammock for every child and small deck with chairs among the leafy green branches outside.

It was onto this deck the three grown teenagers now climbed, pulling the rope ladder up behind them. They had to duck their heads slightly to get in now, but the inside felt as big and wild as it ever had. Oubliette at once sat down on one of the dusty musty cushions strewn all over the floor for just such a purpose, upsetting the sleeping object that had been occupying the space.

"Hey," Oubliette picked up the dearly loved and slightly rusty family pet, "Who left the tin in the treehouse?" Heathcliff was a biscuit tin that had once been an Armadillo and got stuck transfigured between forms, procured by their mum in her Hogwarts years. He had outlived every cat, dog and parakeet to ever enter the home, and he was better behaved than any of them had ever been. However, sometimes he tended to get left places...

"Oh, Alex probably carried him up and forgot him," Rodmilla sighed, sitting down cross-legged across from her best friend and reaching over to pet the tin. Rod took a seat against the wall opposite the doorway, and with the hammocks swinging high above their heads; the three friends began their meeting.

"I can't believe this is my last night before school," Oubliette said softly into the darkness, as they all took a moment to sit. Oubby wasn't all that much older than the twins in the grand scheme of things. When it came to school, however, birth order had dictated that she be a year ahead of them. Thus, she was entering her seventh year while Rod and Rodmilla entered their sixth. Oubliette's mother often joked that her daughter inherited her fondness for notable age gaps in romantic entanglements. Not that anything concrete had yet developed between Rod and Oubby, but the fondness had been there practically since they were toddlers...

"I can't believe it either," Her best friend sighed, petting Heathcliff sadly, "The common room will not be the same..." Rod said nothing for a while though. He simply looked at Oubliette through his curtain of blonde hair, blue eyes meeting green for a long moment. She took in a deep breath, shaking her head and putting on a smile,

"First things first," Oubliette said brightly, pulling out her wand and lighting the lantern that hung from the ceiling high above. When that was done, Rodmilla twisted around to open the ancient, weather-worn trunk to her left, which had been a treasure chest for childhood rubbish for as long as they could remember. Pushing aside the water-damaged notebooks and not-so-secret letters about not-so-secret meetings, she dug up the small book that rested on the very bottom.

Setting the old book on her lap, Rodmilla looked at the other two teenagers with a mischievous smirk on her lips, "Nursery mates, do sign yourselves in?"

"Oh honestly," Rod sighed, as Oubliette giggled, "Aren't we a little too old for this part of it?" This earned him dramatic gasps and looks of shock from his peers,

"Why, that is the very reason we keep doing this!" Oubliette sighed, "Every day, every where, everyone (save your mum and my mum) reminds us that we are to be 'adults' now, with seventeen looming ahead..."

"Or in your case, just behind," Rodmilla added, and her best friend nodded,

"Exactly," She grinned, "What was it your mum told us once, Rod? The night has come, to hold us young?"

"...Sounds like something she'd say," Rod sighed, clearly unable to say no to both his twin and his Dulcinea. He reached over and rested his hand on the book with a roll of the eyes, he recited, "Timothy The Lion does hereby swear himself in to this meeting of the Nursery..."

"That's more like it," Oubliette giggled, resting her hand on top of his and blushing just slightly, "Velveteen Rabbit does hereby swear herself in to this meeting of the Nursery."

"Hand-touchers," Rodmilla grinned, before setting her own hand atop theirs, "Good Faery does hereby swear herself in to this meeting of the Nursery, meeting hereby called into order!" She cleared her throat a few times, "Now, in the interest of never growing up and carrying on the Lunacy our mums have brought us up with, we read from the book that contains all knowledge..."

"She does this so well," Oubby giggled. Rodmilla flipped her long strawberry hair back over her shoulder in a highly pleased manner, before opening the book and reading,

"There was once a velveteen rabbit, and in the beginning he was really splendid," She read, in a clear drifty voice that was not unlike her mother's, "He was fat and bunchy, as a rabbit should be; his coat was spotted brown and white, he had real thread whiskers, and his ears were lined with pink sateen. On Christmas morning, when he sat wedged in the top of the Boy's stocking, with a sprig of holly between his paws, the effect was charming..."

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**Author's Notes:** More to come soon! Especially from those not quite as well-off...  



	3. Charlie

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Charlie

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"I wish I was the Verb to trust and never let you down..."

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"Wake UP, Chuck!" A young female voice echoed through Charlie Podmore's distracted brain over the old, rough breakfast table. He blinked slowly on purpose, giving his younger sister a sleepy smile through his dark hair and over his porridge.

"I am awake, Stephanie," He yawned, sitting up a bit straighter, "And don't call me that," Actually, he was quite awake. He was up earlier than usual, but it was so that he could get something special done before work. It was the last day of August in London as well, and a Sunday morning at that. Outside the sky was cloudy, casting pearly grey light through the rather old windows of the studio flat. Charlie's mum was in the kitchen area behind him, bacon frying as she hummed some muggle rock song from a million years ago.

There was a knock on the front door of their apartment, before it opened to admit his significantly older sister, who lived one floor below them with her family and was clearly far too perky for such an early hour, "Morning, family!" Megan sang, hurrying inside with Zacharias in tow, their daughter Zoë yawning behind them. Hestia Podmore looked up from the stove with a bright smile,

"Morning, favorite daughter," Hestia called back, "Breakfast will be on soon enough,"

"Hey!" Stephanie pouted, to which her mother replied,

"Favorite oldest daughter with the last name Smith," She clarified. Stephanie was appeased.

Sunday morning breakfasts involving the entire family had been a tradition for a few years by now. The way their world was, survival at their social level demanded someone to always be working at some point. Charlie and his father both worked at the Finch-Fletchley's Apothecary, Megan at Madam Malkin's, Zacharias was a bar tender at the Leaky and Hestia worked at St. Mungo's most days of the week. Sunday mornings though, most all of them were home, until Charlie had to go to work. Thus, twas the only time the entire extended family got together.

"Morning, little brother," Megan wrapped an arm around Charlie's neck, kissing the top of his dark brown mop. The eighteen year old gave her a good-humored glare.

"Morning, ancient sister," He quipped back, while Megan sat down next to Zach across from him. She attempted a glare at him, but the fact that her daughter was plopping down next to him rather killed the argument. He was right, Megan was old enough to be his mum. But she was certainly not ancient. There was nary a line on her face or a grey hair in her brilliantly red tresses (at least, none that Zach hadn't given her, but even those had been there since she was seventeen so they were hardly testament to the passage of time). And she often still felt like the same bubbly, optimistic (albeit slightly dented) Hufflepuff she'd been when she was her younger brother's age.

"Where's dad?" Zach asked when Megan's mother brought the rest of the food to the table, frowning at Stephanie and Zoë as they started tossing dry cereal at each other. Hestia turned and gave Zach a smile as she sat down at the head of the table. Though she was much like her daughter in the aging well department, she had quite a few years on the 35 year old. Hestia's dark hair was liberally touched with grey and there were plenty of laugh lines on her face. But even those seemed well-placed, giving her a mature beauty that spoke of years blessed with laughter and amusing, often exasperating children and grandchildren.

"Give the poor man a few," She replied to her son-in-law with a smirk, dishing out the bacon, "His _ancient_ knees aren't exactly the most agreeable these days,"

"I heard that!" Came a grumble from above, and all looked up as Sturgis Podmore made his way down the iron staircase and into the common living area, "And I could follow it up with a quip on your hearing woman, but we're not_ that_ old yet..."

"I should buy you both rocking chairs," Megan grinned, even as her stepfather tried and failed to glare at her. He simply gave a long-suffering sigh, kissing his wife good morning and mussing his daughter and grand-daughter's hair as he passed them, taking a seat at the opposite end of the table.

Charlie watched this all with a thoughtful, amused expression. When his entire family was seated though and started passing around plates, he cleared his throat, standing up as he did, "Before everyone got to eating," He said tentatively, when all eyes were turned to watch his lanky, slightly embarrassed form, "I had something I...wanted to give to Zoë," Reaching into the pocket of his jeans, Charlie pulled out an envelope, and handed it to Megan.

"Charlie, what's..." Megan's curious smile melted away, as she looked into the envelope, "Oh my Merlin, Charlie I can't accept...we can't...ZACH!" She looked at her husband with wide eyes, "This is enough money to..."

"Send Zoë to Hogwarts," Charlie grinned, as his parents gaped, his younger sister grinned, and his niece's eyes grew as big as bludgers, "I've been putting it away since I was fourteen, after Aunt Sally and Uncle Justin told us how they'd budgeted enough for Morgan to go," The boy paused anxiously, but when various adults began to protest, Charlie was firm in his resolve, "No, I want to do this. Mum and Dad have had to support four people and it was too late for me to start saving up for Stephanie..."

"Which I entirely understood," Steph added in, still grinning. Megan looked at her little sister sharply,

"You KNEW about this!"

"Of course," The fifteen year old said airily, "Charlie asked how I felt, and I said mum was a perfectly good teacher," She grinned again, "It is poor Zoë who would have had to get by on Meg and Zach teaching her, and do you really wish that on your own daughter sis?"

"Oh very funny," Megan replied weakly, as tears were now entering her eyes. Zoë was still unable to talk, and Zach looked much like his wife did. It was Hestia, who finally broke the silence,

"I was wondering why you hadn't gotten yourself new boots this winter," She noted softly. She remembered a day when the only cost Hogwarts came with was for books, robes and other supplies. The world had changed though. And while it was infinitely better now than it had been fifteen years ago, the rich still ruled the world and tried to keep the poor down by placing a price on the essential magical education. Even so, her children had chosen to work hard in this world, as opposed to going bitter. Both Hestia and Sturgis looked at their son with shining, rather proud eyes and Charlie, in turn, gave his mother a sheepish smile,

"My feet weren't growing any bigger," He answered, looking back at his sister, "There should be enough left over for a proper wand and maybe even some school robes..."

"There is," Megan sobbed, finally pushing herself up, hurrying around the table and enveloping her little brother in a bear hug, "Oh I...I don't even know! Thank you, Charlie, so much,"

"Any time, ancient sister," Charlie said lightly, even as he was clearly trying not to cry too, "Any time..."

From her seat, little Zoë Smith, who'd turned 11 that past June and had gotten a Hogwarts letter she'd never thought she'd be able to use, finally spoke. Twisting the ends of her dark brown braids in her fingers, she looked between her grandparents, and then at her uncle, "So," She asked in a tiny voice, "Who's taking me school shopping tomorrow?"

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Diagon Alley was a madhouse the next day. It was September 1st, and there was plenty to be done before all of the schoolchildren had to be at the gates of New Hogwarts. Fine skirts and robes swished through the street, with a few less frivolous individuals dotted amongst them. Among these were Zoë Smith and her parents, as they bought her a wand, robes, and second hand school books. And on the other side of the alley, Rodmilla and Oubliette were getting themselves fitted for new dress robes.

"I look like a blue cupcake," Oubby proclaimed, bustling out of the fitting rooms with a frown. Watching her from a small chair placed nearby, her mother Orla cracked up slightly,

"I've heard that one before," She grinned, tilting her head as the laughter faded and she inspected the poofy thing her poor daughter was wearing, "And you are absolutely right, you do look like a confection, but in a _bad_ way," Orla stood up, standing behind her daughter as she inspected herself in the mirror, while Rodmilla floated over in something pink and flowy,

"See, now, why can't I look like Miss No-Hips over here in clothes?" Oubby asked of the cosmos in a wry tone, sighing. Orla laughed again, both looking and sounding much younger than her 32 years,

"Because," She sighed right back, "We are, sadly, cursed with curves. Lovely ones at that!" She tugged at the high waistline of the dress slightly, over the poofyness, "Still, this does nothing for them at all. Or any woman. You haven't a bit of fat on you and somehow this thing makes you look otherwise. I'm not even sure why we took it off the rack..."

"It was the ruffles," Rodmilla reminded them with a giggle, spinning in front of a mirror next to Oubliette's. Her best friend giggled right back,

"Ah yes, never could say no to ruffles, alas!"

"Are you ladies finding everything just fine?" A young witch asked, a woman who'd been hovering nearby after hearing Madam Malkin proclaim that 'The Notts and Lestranges are in!' in a manic tone. Orla grinned at her by way of the mirror,

"Well, we're looking at least, Oubby here got momentarily sidetracked by unflattering ruffles," She informed the young saleswoman, who in turn put on a convincing giggle,

"Oh, I see!" She gushed, turning to Oubliette, "It must be _so_ nice, having an older sister around to give an honest opinion!" Rodmilla froze, knowing the woman had just said one of the worst things one could say to her best friend. Not that she'd meant to, but Oubby had been picked on quite enough as a child, by her own cousin and other peers, about her very young mother,

"She is not my sister," She said sharply, turning away from the mirror to give the young witch an icy glare, even as Orla rested a hand on the girl's elbow, "She is my mother, and The Lady Lestrange, and you will address her as such, lesser."

"I'm s..sorry," The witch tripped over her own tongue, stepping back, "I meant no disrespect I only..."

"Tarja!" The elderly Madam Malkin made her entrance then, sweeping over and tipping her head to her customers, "Madam Lestrange, Miss Lestrange, Miss Nott. Pardon my girl here. She's new!" The woman said this brightly, but it was with a harsh glare and a strong tug that she pulled the shaking sales girl away. Orla sighed, shaking her head,

"Oubliette, that was unnecessary," She murmured. Silently, Rodmilla agreed, but she said nothing, as she adjusted the petal-like sleeves of her dress, "It was an honest mistake and..."

"No, it wasn't," Oubliette said firmly, tilting her chin upwards, "You are the wife of Rabastan Lestrange and my mother, anyone with half a brain for politics...Merlin, anyone who reads the Daily Prophet should know who you are!" She shook her head, tossing her glossy brown curls, "Uneducated bint, I'll wager a galleon on her being a mudblood,"

"Now that I will not tolerate!" Orla said firmly, "I appreciate the family loyalty, Oubby love, but I won't have my daughter displaying an uncivil tongue. Your father wouldn't like it either,"

That stilled Oubliette's anger. She sighed, glaring into the mirror once more as a thousand childhood taunts returned to mind, before shaking her head again, "Forgive me," She said quietly, glancing down, "And ugh, let's find something...not this, yes?"

"Yes," Rodmilla smiled, walking over to a rack and pulling out something twirlly and green, "Here, matches your eyes, which I know my twin shall appreciate!" Both laughing, Orla and Oubliette returned to the fitting room with the dress in hand.

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Rodmilla returned to her mirror, tilting her head, pushing back her long blond hair and turning slightly, inspecting herself in the pink dress. Generally she was not a fan of pink, but this was growing on her. The door to the shop opened and, expecting her mother, Rodmilla looked up, only to see a redheaded woman greeting Madam Malkin like an old friend. Rodmilla recognized her, as one of the women who worked at the shop part time...and for another reason. She had her daughter in tow, and Zoë looked up as her mum talked, catching sight of Rodmilla in her dress. The young girl gave her a tiny wave, and Rodmilla waved back, cautiously, after making sure no one was watching.

Slipping away from her mum, Zoë crept between the racks, and Rodmilla bent down beside the rack closest to her, so that no one could see her from across the shop. Peering through the hanging robes, Zoë grinned, "You look really pretty in that dress, Milla."

"Yeah?" Rodmilla whispered back, looking around again to make sure her best friend wasn't coming back, before grinning back at the girl, "Think Charlie would like it on me?"

"Oh yeah," Zoë giggled, covering her mouth as she did so, "I'll make sure to take pictures at school so he can see..."

"Oooh," Rodmilla grinned wider, "So you got your surprise then, did you?"

"You knew too! I mean, I did!" Zoë whispered excitedly, showing Rodmilla her new wand, "And I'm getting a new school robe! And, and, an owl! And...he's just the best in the world, ever..."

"Yeah," Rodmilla sighed, still smiling softly even as her face turned pink and her voice sounded rather sad, "He really is..."

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**Author's Notes: **Yes, yes, I am still writing, never fear! Plotbunnies of doom attacked today for this fic, and I am enjoying it. More soon! 


	4. Whispers

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Whispers

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"The moon glows, the river flows, but I die, without you..."

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It was getting on in the day. At five o'clock the students of Hogwarts would have to be at the gates of the school, and it was fast nearing four when Rodmilla had finished her shopping. She, Oubliette and Rod were on their way to meet up with their families in their private dining room at The Leaky, before saying their goodbyes until Christmas Holiday.

"Gods the booklist for this year was long," Oubliette commented, hefting her bags, "Remind me to never take four years of Arithmancy again?"

"I'll be sure to do that, next time we're third years," Rodmilla laughed, as they moved through the crowd and down the alley.

"Well this bodes well for us," Rod said, hefting the pile of books he'd offered to carry for both his twin sister and his almost-girlfriend, "You'll be telling the two of us all about the horrors of NEWT year and we shall be highly stressed over next year..."

Oubliette and Rod kept talking, while Rodmilla found herself pausing outside of an apothecary. Glancing over her shoulder at her friends, she wondered if she should risk it. But of course, she would, whether she should have or not, "I forgot to refill my lacewing and belladonna," She called behind her.

"You remembered this now?" Oubby sighed, "We were in the other Apothecary this morning!"

"I know," Rodmilla stuck out her tongue, her voice light, "I'll just be a minute, go on ahead and tell mum and dad?" She directed that last bit toward her brother.

Rod just looked at her carefully. He was under the impression that he and his twin had no secrets between them, and had always been able to read each other like books. They had their differences in manner and interests, but they still knew every nuance of the other's face, emotions and eyes. As such, right now Rod could tell his sister was guarding herself, and he didn't know why. And Rodmilla could tell that he could tell. But the boy didn't comment. Not yet.

"All right," He said simply, taking Oubliette's arm and moving along the way they'd been going. Soon the two of them were busy talking again, melting into the crowd, and Rodmilla turned back to the shop, taking a deep breath before going inside.

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"...And four more orders filled," Charlie was saying at the counter, his voice directed back over his shoulder. Justin Finch-Fletchley stepped up behind him, looking over the young man's shoulder at the list on the counter,

"Good show!" He glanced about, "And the crowd's thinned, everyone's hurrying to get their kids dropped off at the school," Justin clapped Charlie on the shoulder, giving him a smile, "I promised Sally and Morgan I'd go with them to see her off, and your father's seeing off Zoë. You got things in hand?"

"I've been closing since I was sixteen, boss," Charlie grinned back, "I think I can handle the tail end of our biggest shopping day of the year,"

"Well good!" Justin said, dropping his voice as the shop door opened again, bells tinkling, "Because one of Theodore Nott's kids is here, and I can't afford a lawsuit," He inclined his head toward the door, before slipping out toward the back to gather his things and meet his wife and daughter. The older man called out some sort of farewell as he left out the back door, but Charlie didn't hear it. His eyes were fixed on the willowy blonde drifting in between the shelves of potion ingredients.

Rodmilla looked up at him over one of the shelves, a shy smile drifting over her lips. Charlie felt something in his gut twist, and they both looked about to see if anyone was watching. There was a group of fourth year-aged girls in one corner contemplating the ingredients to a love potion, and a set of parents hurriedly picking out a starter kit for the first year son, but that was all. Charlie looked back at Rodmilla with a grin, motioning her back behind the counter, looking around quickly with quick breath, before he slipped behind one of the back shelves. Rodmilla waited until she was sure no one was looking, and then followed him.

Once they were out of sight, Rodmilla had her arms around his shoulders, pressing her face against his neck. Charlie swallowed the knot in his throat, wrapping his arms around her slim waist and taking a deep breath, catching the scent of all that long blonde hair, "I missed you," The girl's muffled voice reached his ears, her breath warm on his skin. Charlie shut his eyes, holding her tighter,

"Missed you too, love," He whispered, pulling back and kissing the top of her head. Rodmilla sighed. There weren't many boys taller than her, aside from her twin brother. She took a step back, her hands sliding down to rest on his arms as she looked up shyly.

"You've never called me that before," Rodmilla stated softly, her face rather pink. Assured as the girl was in all other things, when it came to matters of boys, she was highly nervous. Even over one she'd know for almost a year now.

"I have so!" Charlie protested lightly, grinning. Rodmilla shook her head, an abundance of hair falling in front of her eyes,

"Only on paper," She reminded him, still blushing as she grinned. Charlie felt his heart do a few back flips, "You've never said it out loud..."

"Oh, well..." Charlie tilted forward, brushing the tip of his nose against hers, reaching up and brushing her hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ear, "Sometimes your voice is so easy to hear when I'm reading your letters, I jumble what's been said and what hasn't been," All right, that just sounded corny, and Charlie felt himself blushing slightly as well. Rodmilla didn't mind at all, though. She just leaned forward, catching his lips with hers and closing her eyes, pulling him closer as he tugged at her waist, savoring their first sweet kiss since June.

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It would be a year that October since they'd officially met. Rodmilla had seen Charlie before of course, while doing her school shopping every year. At first he'd just been the boy who worked behind the Apothecary, moving boxes. Then, he was the boy who restocked the shelves, and Rodmilla had been able to put together that the tall, older man who worked there was his father. And then he was the boy who worked at the counter, giving her a friendly smile as he rang up her orders. He was never one of the boys she would see at school though...which meant his family hadn't the money for tuition.

Still, he'd fascinated her. She'd wondered about him, while Charlie had simply looked for her at the start of every school year and every weekend the students had to go into Diagon Alley. He enjoyed watching the intangible, untouchable girl, daughter of a Parliament Member and former Death Eater. He knew she likely didn't know the latter, because there was nothing purposefully condescending or unkind about her. She was beautiful, but she was something the boy knew he could never have.

But then, on the first London Weekend of the previous year, he'd bumped into her on a run down to Knockturn Alley. The girl had obviously taken a wrong turn and was getting some wrong looks. After leading her out, Charlie had proceeded to give her a slightly stern lecture on watching where she went and remembering that someone like her shouldn't wander places like that. Predictably, Rodmilla had snapped back that she wasn't a naïve child. Charlie had politely informed her that she was naïve in the very best sense. She somehow found this endearing.

Hidden conversations about each other's lives and notes written back and forth in charmed journals became stolen kisses in dark corners and trinkets left in hidden places. They were highly daring in their trysts, as far as the chances of someone catching them went. But as it was, the only person who knew about the two of them, as far as either of them knew, was Charlie's niece Zoë. And she was very good at keeping secrets.

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"You're glowing," Charlie whispered presently, pulling back and pressing kisses to Rodmilla's hair, "Your hair's all darker and gold...you always glow end of summer..."

"You've noticed for that long?" Rodmilla giggled, reaching up to run her fingers through his messy brown mop, "It isn't nearly as cloudy all the time, in the States...lots of sun to inhale..."

"Maybe someday I'll see," Charlie murmured before he kissed her again, pressing her back against the shelf, the waist of her pale blue dress gathering in bunches in his hands. Rodmilla's sigh was muffled by his mouth, his lips, the two teenagers finally giving each other a proper hullo until a bell rang at the counter.

Reluctantly tearing himself away, Charlie straightened his hair and shirt and took a deep breath before hurrying back to the counter, his friendly smile back in place. He rang up the customers as normally as he did at any other time, while in the back Rodmilla brushed her hands through her hair, a goofy smile fixed on her flushed face.

Charlie returned after a few moments, the tinkling of the shop door echoing through the now otherwise empty room behind him. He had a small book tucked under his arm, that he'd drawn out from under the counter, "I was hoping you'd show up today, I have something for you," He admitted softly, standing close to her again. That was one of the many things she liked about him, the way he stood. Everyone in her daily life was so poised, so stiff. Charlie Podmore had a relaxed, easy grace to him. It reminded her of her brother Alex, if were he older and calmer,

"Oh?" She asked, highly intrigued. Charlie nodded, opening up what appeared to be a photo album, pulling out a picture and handing it to her. Rodmilla took the offered picture, and found herself giggling. It was the two of them, standing together much like they were now, seeming unaware of the camera, "Zoë took this!"

"Yeah I made sure I was the one who developed that roll of film for her," Charlie smirked, "I have one but I...thought you'd want a copy," He blushed again. Rodmilla grinned, holding the photograph to her chest,

"But of course," Her eyes fell on the album, which was still open in his hands, "What else is in there?" She asked, thinking maybe there would be pictures of her beloved inside, when he was younger perhaps. Charlie shrugged, looking down at the open album as well,

"I'm not sure," He admitted, "My mum never takes it out, which was why I hid our picture in here," He smirked, "No one ever opens it, seemed a good place..." He began flipping through the pages, seeing pictures of student aged kids he didn't recognize, dated back when his sister was in school.

Rodmilla looked at them all, mostly for the surroundings. These were back at the old Hogwarts Castle, which now lay warded and in ruins. She stopped though, pointing excitedly at one, "Hey, that's my mum!" She grinned, inspecting her mother in her much younger state, wearing her Ravenclaw uniform. And standing right next to her and displaying a height difference that hadn't changed much over the years, "And Aunt Orla!" She giggled, "Your sister must have been taking pictures of everyone in her year-range..."

"Yeah..." Charlie trailed off; suddenly thinking this might not be such a good idea. He knew certain things about his sister's last years of school, and he didn't know if Rodmilla did. Most of his generation didn't know about those years, but against the law, his parents had told him all about them. It was too late to stop though, Rodmilla was enjoying this and Charlie never could say no to her,

"And...are these...was there a play?" Rodmilla asked, reading the caption, "Ah, yup! Romeo & Juliet, 1997. There's Aunt Orla again!" She giggled, looking at another picture of her mum, sewing the hem of a costume someone was wearing and waving to the camera, her mouth full of pins, "Well that figures, mum is always sewing..."

"Maybe we should..." Charlie tried, but it was too late. Rodmilla had flipped a page and there were all of his sister's old Hufflepuff pictures. The girl grinned,

"Isn't that your sister?" Rodmilla asked, and Charlie nodded wordlessly as she looked at the picture of the smiling, red-headed Megan, hugging her blue cat Ringo and making him wave to the camera. The next was a picture of Megan and Zach in their Quidditch uniforms, making growling, determined faces before a match, "And...there's the woman who owns this place, isn't she?" Rodmilla pointed out a picture of Megan and Sally-Ann in their uniforms, and Charlie nodded again.

Rodmilla looked at the next picture, and blinked a few times. This one just...didn't make sense. It looked like all the Hufflepuffs from Megan's year, sitting outside on the Hogwarts grounds under a tree near the lake. There was Megan and Zacharias Smith and Mrs. Finch-Fletchley and her husband, and a few other people that Rodmilla didn't recognize. But there was also her very own mum, leaning her head on the shoulder of Charlie's sister, while she sat in the lap of a boy who was clearly not her father. Her eyes darted to the caption, where everyone was named. 'Luna and Ernie, our favorite master race couple', Megan had written.

Rodmilla pulled back, frowning. Charlie licked his lips, slowly drawing away the photo album and closing it, "Must have been before she met your dad..." He suggested, setting the book aside,

"Maybe..." Rodmilla said doubtfully, tucking this information away to ponder over later. Something didn't fit there...but she knew better than to let the stolen moment be over shadowed. She smiled again, tucking the picture in her hand into the pocket in her skirts, before leaning toward Charlie again, "I have to meet my parents soon..."

"I know," He wrapped his arm around her, pressing his face against her hair. Her parents...the parents of Rodmilla Nott. Theodore Nott and his wife, both of whom Charlie was starting to think he knew more about than she did. And of whom he was obligated to be very, very afraid of...

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**Author's Notes:** Love! And brushing the tip of the iceberg of secrets, mwaa. Reviews make me happy and motivated, people! 


	5. Repeating Histories

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Repeating Histories

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"One season following another, laden with happiness and tears..."

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The Leaky Cauldron looked much the same as it had for centuries. Rough outer walls contained a ground level, which housed a main dining room and several private ones below the Inn itself. It had been a tradition for years now for the Notts and Lestranges to all have dinner together in one of the private dining rooms, before bringing their children to the school. Over the years the families had grown and the children had made friends that they wanted to bring along, so that now they took up two dining rooms. The adults conversed and gave their last minute instructions to their children, the offspring laughed, joked, and shared their new school purchases with each other, and every now and then outsiders would pause by the dining room windows, to catch a glimpse of the ethereal Nott siblings, or the stately Lestranges, the famous children of privilege.

"Good Merlin, it's the children of the corn," A smarmy voice noted between Rodrigue and Rodmilla as the meal was winding down. Rodmilla looked over her shoulder, squealing and wrapping her arms around Charisse Zabini.

"You're not with your parents?" Rodmilla asked of the older girl, who was wearing her Slytherin uniform already. Charisse rolled her eyes,

"Father and mother left for Monaco this morning," She yawned, pushing her thick, reddish brown curls over her shoulders, "I swear, they didn't like each other this much when I was in primary school. It's as if they just realized they were married again,"

"CHARISSE!" Oubliette's voice exploded from Rodmilla's left, and from the other end of the long lunch table her best friend hurried over to hug her friend and dorm mate. Still seated, Rod sighed, shaking his head,

"Girls," He mumbled, smirking slightly. Next to him, Antoine Lestrange grinned.

"Children of the corn, and now the Witches of Eastwick," The younger boy noted, observing the willowy blonde, the pale brunette and the mocha-skinned redhead. And the three girls sighed, rolled their eyes and moved away, while the boys chuckled.

"Brides of Dracula!" Alexander called after them...

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"Am I the only one who feels too young to be a matriarch?" Orla asked of the abyss, from her seat among the elder set at the head of the tables. Luna laughed, nodding and looking remarkably like her oldest daughter as she did so. Orla's significantly older husband, however, simply smiled,

"You might," Rabastan replied, though with iron-grey hair and a highly distinguished face, his age suited him well, "I, on the other hand, am finally starting to feel my age..."

"Father!" His youngest Penelope suddenly called, her light brown pigtails trailing behind her as she ran to her parents, "Bast stole my new quills and started writing to Laurent and then he was doodling all over Oubliette's new notebook and made it anonymous so that he could blame me but I didn't do it and HE BROKE MY QUILL!"

"...Well!" Orla said brightly, as her husband tried his best not to laugh, "Clearly time to get a move on to the school."

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Rodmilla rode to the school with her parents in their Thestral-drawn carriage (beasts that she could not see of course, though both Luna and Theodore could). Usually, she would ride with Rodrigue, Oubliette, Charisse and Claudette, but this afternoon she had requested a seat with Luna, Theodore and Cacilia. She had something to ask of her mother, as it kept troubling her mind and she couldn't bear the obnoxious thought of having it trouble her until Christmas holls.

"Mother," Rodmilla asked slowly, as their line of carriages rushed through the London streets. Luna turned her head to look at her daughter, who sat by her side. The sixteen year old looked down at her lap, putting on an easy, conversational smile, "How did you and father meet?"

Luna glanced up at Theodore for a brief moment, who sat with Cacilia napping on his shoulder. His face remained unchanged, but each knew how to read the other's eyes. Luna's smile mirrored her daughter's, and Rodmilla didn't miss that fact, "We met at school," She replied simply, "Of course, we did not have a relationship until afterwards, but we knew each other there..."

"We became acquaintances one day in the library, if you'll recall," Theodore added, giving his wife a small smile. Rodmilla witnessed a far more genuine grin from her mother then,

"Ah yes, how could I forget?" Luna replied in her dreamy voice, "I gave you a lecture on the proper use of a chair..."

Now Rodmilla was genuinely interested in the story itself, and listened as her parents recounted their first real conversation. But in the back of her mind, Rodmilla realized just what was off. She'd never thought of it before, for why would she? But now it seemed rather blatantly obvious. If Rodmilla had her dates right, then that would mean her parents were married and her mother then became pregnant in the middle of Luna's seventh year.

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Some things do not change. One can try to bury, burn, murder and rewrite history, but no one can stop history's bad habit of repeating, as much as one desperately wanted to. Such was rarely as clear and obvious as when the crowd gathered at the gates of Hogwarts every year. Parents and former students would be bidding their children farewell, whilst glancing at each other over the heads of their enthusiastic schoolchildren. No matter their social or political standing after the war, the adults all saw the same things in each others eyes. They all wanted their offspring to have far quieter school years than any of them had experienced. Whether or not history was going to let them was an entirely different matter.

"Weasley," Alexander faced down the older boy before him, as carriages drew up to the steps of the school behind them.

"Nott," The older boy nodded once, crossing his arms. The two Gryffindors regarded each other for a time, as rivals in pranking and social class, before they were rudely interrupted,

"Ron!" Alicia Spinnet had her son in one last bear hug, ruffling his hair and making him blush to the tips of his ears, "Now I like that, trying to get away from your mum without a proper goodbye!"

Alexander cracked up, until his own willowy mother was planting another kiss goodbye on his cheek. Alicia was making Ron promise to keep an eye on his younger sister Claire, and Theodore was giving his last instructions to Rod, while helping him pin his prefect badge on his robes. All around parents were bidding their children farewell and good luck, on the steps of what was once called Buckingham Palace in years gone by. Now it was Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Not as grand or protected as the old building had been, but then, there was hope for not nearly as much turmoil in the world. Hope being the key phrase.

"Ugh, I can't believe Headmaster Snape let them in," Charisse mumbled as she and her brother James ascended the stairs, brushing past the Weasley siblings, "Mudbloods, all..." Claudette saw her dorm mate Emily Corner and ran off to say hullo. Rodmilla sighed,

"They pay tuition just like the rest of us," She reminded her friend quietly. Oubliette 'humphed' slightly, but said nothing, "Besides, their father was a war hero. Of course they're allowed in,"

"Yes, war hero," Charisse snorted, "For the wrong side..."

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The Welcoming Feast that night was as wonderful as any Feast at Old Hogwarts had been. When the muggle Palace had been re-fortified in the design of the first school, many things had gone back into place. Such as the beautifully charmed ceiling over the Great Hall that greeted every schoolchild warmly, no matter who was in charge of the world.

It was the ceiling that caught Zoë Smith's attention first, as she made her way between the House tables with the crowd of first years. She almost walked straight into Professor Sinistra; her eyes were so fixed on the perfect imitation of the night sky above. Rodmilla tried not to look too obvious from her seat at the Slytherin table, but she couldn't help smiling as Sinistra called Zoë's name.

Scrambling toward the stool, Zoë sat down and looked up, just as Selune dropped the Sorting Hat (one of the last relics of Old Hogwarts that had survived) on her head with a wink. Zoë felt somewhat at ease. The head of Ravenclaw House was a long-time friend of the family. Everyone watched with rapt attention as the young girl waited, her eyes shut tightly. And then...

"HUFFLEPUFF!" The hat cried. There was much cheering and Rodmilla gave Zoë a hearty applause as she skipped over to her new House table. A fourth year girl with dark brown pigtails gave her a big hug as she sat down.

Rodmilla looked back at her housemates, who were all talking amongst themselves until Headmaster Snape stood up to give the beginning of the year announcements. Across the way though, she could sense her twin watching her. She looked over at the Ravenclaw table and sure enough, there was Rod, Prefect and Quidditch Captain, watching her as if trying to figure her out. Something he'd never had to do before.

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**Author's Notes: **This took a bit of work, and there is not much meat to it, which bugs me. BUT! More meaty chapters to come, as they're now at school, bwaahaahaa etc. 


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Harry Potter, Adventure, Romance