Sugar & Spice

*Rosie’s Point of View

I was leaning against the red-brick fireplace at the Potters', tapping my foot agitatedly.

“Can you get a move on, Black?” I finally hollered, moving to the foot of the stairs and calling up them.

“Gimme half a second, would you?” He immediately snapped back, his voice sounding muffled. I rolled my eyes – he was probably still wrestling with the suit James’s father had lent him. I might've asked him why he didn't wear robes, but I thought I knew - one small act of defiance probably.

I moved back into the lounge and sat myself down in one of the armchairs. I twirled a lock of my hair around my finger and played with the hem of the dress Mrs Potter had lent me. It was just below the knee, navy, and had a tie at the back. I was definitely thankful for the fact that it wasn't too revealing; I certainly didn't need to give Black any more motivation for more sleazy comments and 'moves'.

And something also told me that I didn't want to waltz into the 'Noble House of Black' wearing anything particularly flashy or provocative.

I heard the heavy dragging footsteps of somebody who doesn't want to go somewhere. I turned just as Black entered the room, picking at the lapel of the grey suit jacket with a dubious look on his face.

He stopped when he saw me and raised his eyebrows.

"Praise the lords, she's wearing a dress!" He said dryly, looking up to the heavens and raising his arms up to the ceiling. I could see a small half-smile playing around his lips as he looked at me.

"You sound like you're surprised," I commented, hiding my smirk and crossing my legs as he pulled at his collar, which seemed too tight.

"I am. Now, are you ready?"

I felt a little nervous. I couldn't quite explain even to myself why I was going, but for some reason I was strangely fascinated; I wanted to meet his family and gauge for myself exactly how bad they were. Maybe so that I could understand him better.

And I wanted to help him; I didn't dislike him so much that I'd want get him in trouble with his parents just because I wouldn't come to their Christmas party.

I nodded and he shoved his hand in his pocket, bringing out a packet full of green powder, which he opened and offered to me. I stood and took a handful of the floo powder, before making my way over to the fireplace. I took a deep breath and threw it in.

"13 Grimmauld Place," He offered helpfully when I didn't say anything for a few moments. For some reason this struck me as familiar, but I didn't comment.

"13 Grimmauld Place," I enunciated, loudly and clearly. I stepped into the flames and felt myself spinning in circles, glimpsing tiny snapshots of living rooms and kitchens until I was finally spat out onto the cold, hard, stone floor of my destination.

At once, I felt somebody's hands helping me up. I looked up into the pale grey eyes of a very well-groomed and handsome middle-aged woman. She smiled at me, but I noticed that the movement didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Walburga Black. How do you do?" She asked, her pronunciation crisp and sharp. I reserved judgement on her for the moment, although I could already tell that she was a force to be reckoned with. Whether that was a good thing or a bad thing, I couldn't quite tell... yet.

"Rosie Tamsworth," I said, smiling back, just as Black fell out of the fireplace and onto the floor with (if possible) even less grace than I had.

I felt a pang when I noticed that nobody moved to help him up. He heaved himself into a standing position before I could give him a hand and looked down at his mother, his mouth set in a rigid line.

He looked like a different person than the boy that had been joking with me in the Potter's living room, not seconds previously. Grim and hard-faced, unlike the Sirius Black I was familiar with.

"Mum," He greeted stiffly. Somehow, devoid of love or emotion as it was, I could tell he was making more of an effort than he usually did.

"Sirius," Mrs Black stated curtly, scrutinising him from head to toe. I had to force my eyebrows not to rise at this. It was the kind of greeting my father usually gave me.

"So..." I said, a little awkward and wanting to break the tense moment. It seemed to work and Mrs Black turned to me, placing a perfectly manicured hand on my shoulder with calculated precision, as if somebody were measuring her every movement with a ruler.

"So! Shall I introduce you to our family?" She asked, and at her words I suddenly remembered that we weren't alone. There were at least twenty other people milling around us, getting food and drinks, sitting in chairs and talking in the high-ceilinged kitchen.

The room was warm and crowded and the long wooden table was laden with good food. There were irons pots and pans hanging neatly from hooks along one side of the marble counter and the grey stone floors were spotless. The stone fireplace which Black and I had fallen out of was made of black marble and there was a fire burning in the grate, sending shivers of orange light onto Mrs Black's silver dress robes.

There didn't seem to be any Christmas decorations up (the same way it was at my own house, too) – it was more like somebody had decided that the traditional Christmas colours were black, silver and green and then transfigured the streamers hanging from the chandeliers high above into tiny, writhing, live snakes.

I looked up and watched as two of them bobbed their heads a little lower over the heads of the people in the room, tasting the air with their forked tongues. I repressed a shudder.

She turned to the nearest person, who happened to be a tiny elderly lady; she was wearing dark green dress robes and had wispy white hair that seemed to grow upwards. I realised to my amusement that she'd been stood quite near the whole time and seemed to be listening intently to our conversation with the aid of a huge, silver hearing trumpet.

"Marissa," Mrs Black said, getting her attention and speaking loudly and directly into the ear trumpet. "This is Rosie Tamsworth," She said, leaning on my last name noticeably. Marissa nodded wisely and took out a thick monocle from her pocket. She then leant forward and looked me up and down as closely as if I was a boar she were looking to purchase for her feast. Finally, she placed the monocle back in her pocket and pronounced, very loudly to Black:

"Got a nice fit whippersnapper here, you have, boy. If you've grown any sense since the last time I saw you, you'll marry her real quick."

My jaw dropped open, and I stared at her in undisguised horror. Black stood on my foot and I quickly closed my mouth.

Mrs Black had a smug look on her face. I couldn't, for all the world, see what she had to be so satisfied about, but she was already graciously leading me to the next group of people. They all had grey eyes of varying shades and all seemed to be in a heated argument with everyone else.

"No - I told you, Matilda: muggles are vermin. We should be -"

"No, no, no. We can't be caught cursing mudbloods in broad daylight ..."

"Look, I'm telling you Bertold, we should wipe them all out. The Dark Lord-"

"Regulus has got the right idea. Good lad that boy is, not like -"

"My dear cousins and brother." She greeted cordially, interrupting the argument, and gently but firmly moving me forward into the limelight. "This is Rosie. Rosie Tamsworth." I smiled weakly, but inside I was suddenly sick to my very core.

These people were awful. It was little wonder Black couldn't stand to be in the same room with them.

I grudgingly shook hands with the man named Bertold. He leered at me and his eyes whipped towards where Black stood, hands behind his back and jaw taut. I could tell he really wanted to smack somebody. I had a feeling he actually might, and my stomach sank.

The man, Bertold, licked his lips and openly tried to look down the front of my dress; I automatically shied backwards until I nearly bumped into Black's chest.

He repositioned himself to be very close behind me and stared the man down as I tried to think of an excuse to get away.

"You're a pretty young lass. Might even think of taking you for myself if you weren't here with my idiot nephew," He sneered, jabbing a careless thumb in Black's direction and reaching out to grab a lock of my hair as I cringed backwards into Black's chest. Faster than the strike of a snake, Mrs Black's hand whipped out and slapped the man's hand sharply.

"Now now, Bertold. No need for that," She said, laughing airily in a manner that invited everybody in on the joke. I didn't get it.

We'd been there for less than twenty minutes when Black finally spoke in my ear.

"Tammie you look like you're going to puke," He stated, a forced note of nonchalance in his tone. "Should we get out of here?" He whispered, placing his hand possessively on the small of my back as one of his relatives moved a little closer than strictly necessary to get himself another ladle of mulled wine.

I looked up at him with quietly desperate eyes and nodded fervently, not caring that he annoyed me, or that I never felt comfortable asking him for help on any matter whatsoever. He nodded and pursed his lips.

"Mum!" He called across the room and she lifted her head up and raised her eyebrows, moving closer so she could hear him. "Mum, we're leaving now," He said unapologetically. Her eyes narrowed dangerously.

"What? You're going to those Potters'?" She asked, spitting their name out viciously. He stared down at her and didn't answer the question, his eyes darting between both of hers. She leaned in so close that their noses were almost touching. "If you want to stay a part of this family Sirius, you need to get your priorities straight. Fraternising with potential blood-traitors and galivanting with half-bloods and mudbloods alike will not get you into any respectable familys' good books. Now, I'm sure Miss Tamsworth here can teach you a thing or two about proper pureblood behaviour, can't you dear?" She asked me, her personality changing suddenly to become warm and accomidating. The change from venomous to courteous threw me off a bit and I nodded automatically, trying both not to stare at her and to figure her out. "So, what about staying for just a little while longer, my dear? Sure you can't convince my son here to mingle a little with his fellow Blacks?"

After a second's hesitation I made up a relatively plausible lie, absolutely determined to get away from this house and the Blacks. I felt like a mouse staring into the eyes of a cobra.

"Well, I was just making my rounds to a few of my friends' parties, Mrs Black. The Malfoys, the Notts, you understand. My brother also expects me to attend a dinner with him in half an hour, and I'd hate to keep him waiting. His fiancé would have a fit!" I said, laughing in that same airy manner she had demonstrated earlier. I prayed that she wouldn't see through it. She didn't.

"Oh! Well, I shan't hold you up any longer then. Do tell your father that I send my greetings, would you?" With that she pecked me on each cheek, completely disregarding Black, and in a second was gone from my sight. I felt enormously relieved.

"Let's go," Black said quickly, taking my elbow and dragging me over to the fireplace. For once, I didn't shy away from his touch. I was very grateful he was there.

I suddenly realised that Mrs Black was still standing nearby and was watching us out of the corner of her eye. With a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach I realised we couldn't go straight to the Potters' from here. I decided that we'd quickly go to my house and immediately go to Godric's Hollow after that.

A to B; soon enough we'd be laughing and watching countless more silly movies with the rest of the Marauders and James's parents.

"Follow my lead," I muttered to Black, throwing the powder into the flames.

"Tamsworth Manor!" I said, loudly and clearly so everybody could hear that we were going somewhere 'respectable'. I stepped into the flames and once more whirled through the floo network until I fell out into my own sitting room, spreading ash all over our antique rug.

Black fell out of the fireplace on top of me, just as I was getting ready to get up.

"That's the second time, Black," I wheezed, as he stood and helped me up, helping to brush the ash out of my hair. I didn't even notice; I was more concerned with my knees and was trying to assess - in almost total darkness - just how much damage had been done.

"Oh, no," Black breathed in a tone that chilled me to the bone in an instant. He wasn't looking at me any longer. I straightened up and looked around.

What I saw made me want to sit down. Fast.

Everything in sight had been mauled or destroyed. The Tamsworth suit of armour had been torn off its place above the mantel and lay dumped in shreds of metal five feet away on top of our antique coffee table. The couches had been slashed and overturned, books burned, the portrait of our whole family snapped in half. As I looked around in horror I saw that the chandelier's hand-carved crystal pieces were spread far and wide around the room, glittering eerily in the moonlight and creating an atmosphere of utter devastation. The scene was very wrong, but all the same, even I could appreciate at that moment how dangerously beautiful it looked.

Suddenly I felt very unsafe…very unsafe indeed.