Sugar & Spice

*Rosie's Point of View

I was in the dungeons later that day, brewing a Sleeping Draught so inattentively that I forgot to add the extract of hellebore, lionfish spikes and newt tails; the potion, which should have been a smooth greenish blue, was a congealed brownish blob in the bottom of my cauldron.

There was a loud knock on the door and a 5th year Slytherin flounced in, bearing a long rolled-up piece of parchment.

She walked up to Professor Slughorn (her hips swaying more than I thought strictly necessary), handed it to him, and then turned to leave the classroom.

When she passed by my desk, I saw her give Black – who was sitting just a few seats behind - a sexy smile.

My stomach churned and I threw my long wooden spoon back into the cauldron, disgusted.

Slughorn glanced down at the scroll.

"Miss Tamsworth?"

I sighed, and abandoned my sorry excuse of a potion to walk to the front of the class.

I felt eyes on the back of my head but ignored them, already having a good idea of who they belonged to.

Slughorn handed the small roll of parchment to me; I noticed it still had the thin, red leather thong wrapped around the middle.

"This is for you."

I slipped the tie off, deciding to read it right then and there, not bothered that I was still standing at the front of the class; it was a practical lesson, and most people were more concerned with trying to produce a halfway decent potion than with a single student standing next to the blackboard.

Miss Tamsworth, it read.

Please collect your school-things and come to office.

I have news.

Professor Dumbledore

p.s. I've taken a particular liking to mint humbugs

I found this last part rather bewildering, but after a second of staring at the sentence I blinked and decided to figure it out later.

"Sir? I'm needed in Professor Dumbledore's office. He says I should bring my stuff with me," He nodded, and turned away to answer a question a student had asked him.

After I'd packed up my potions ingredients and stuffed my book back into my bag I left the dungeons, too distracted to remember to wash my hands.

My mind was reeling.

Dumbledore had said he had news, but he hadn't said whether it was good or bad news, so it could be anything.

I stopped in the middle of the corridor and felt a sense of horror wash over me.

Maybe my father was here!

I started walking again, faster, before I broke into a run as another terrible thought occurred to me: maybe it was worse – maybe it was about my brother.

By the time I'd arrived at the two stone gargoyles, clutching my side and feeling faintly ill, I was convinced Dumbledore was going to tell me that Voldemort had finally caught up with him.

I was making a concerted effort not to retch and spill the contents of my lunch on the ancient flagstones.

Then I realised I had another problem – not pressing perhaps, but real nonetheless.

Once more, I found myself stood outside Dumbledore's office…without the password.

"Oh come on!" I cried, worried and frustrated.

Then the last part of Dumbledore's note came back to me: p.s. I've taken a particular liking to –

"Mint humbugs," I realised, and the door leading to the enchanted staircase opened. I scrambled onto it and raced up the steps, but before I'd even raised a fist to knock, I heard his voice from inside.

"Please enter."

Pushing open the heavy door, I entered and immediately looked around, nervously searching for some sign of my father.

Upon noticing he wasn't there, I relaxed a bit, only to tense up tighter than before. If it wasn't about my father…

"Please sit down Miss Tamsworth," Dumbledore said gently, speaking from behind his desk. I searched his face for any sign that the news he would give me was good.

I found none.

My hands trembled ever so slightly and I quickly took a seat.

He reached his hand into one of his desk drawers and brought out an envelope before handing it to me.

With rising trepidation I turned it over, and saw that it bore the Tamworth family crest – a sword and sceptre crossed over the crescent moon. I sighed.

It was obviously from Father.

"Your father was here last night and before he left, he asked me to give this to you."

Frowning with puzzlement, I motioned to his letter-opener with my hand, silently enquiring if I could use it.

"By all means," He said, leaning back slightly in his chair and politely looking out of the window to the darkening sky. I would've smiled if I had been in any state of mind to; it was thoughtful of him to give me as much privacy as possible in the given circumstances.

Dear Rosie, It began,
There are things I have wanted to say to you since your mother died, but I never could, for one main reason: your own protection.

I looked up at Dumbledore, shocked by the tone of the letter. I was of half a mind to ask him whether or not it really was my father who had written it.

Dumbledore either didn't notice my wondering look, or wanted me to carry on reading uninterrupted, so that's what I did.

As you know, I have been a Death Eater for some time now. To be exact, since your mother died. Your headmaster knows everything, and he'll be able to explain it much better than I can in this letter, but your mother was killed by Death Eaters – the Dark Lord himself, in fact.
Shortly after that I realised that there was only one way to keep you and your brother safe: to join his ranks myself. To go undercover.
I know, it sounds insane – and it would have been had I not been an accomplished Occlumens. He would've been able to look straight into my mind and see my true intention, but for a while, the remainder of our family was targeted no more.
Voldemort already knew that Tom was a wizard, so I couldn't protect him the way I could protect you, my little Rose.
As you know - and I can't tell you how sorry I am that I had to do that to you – I told you that you possessed no magical talent. Once He realised that you could be of no use to Him, He dismissed you immediately. He has no need of squibs, so He could think of no use for you then.
I breathed a sigh of relief, that while Tom was still in danger from Him, at least you were safe.
Unfortunately, it wasn't quite that simple; I had to act the part of the pureblood father who was ashamed of his squib daughter (in case he ever looked into Tom's or your mind), and again, I am sorry for that.
My plan balanced on the edge of a knife, and when you found out that you were a witch, the Dark Lord saw it in your brother's mind and my ploy finally fell apart.
None of this is your fault, Rosie - I just need you to know that your father DOES love you, more than you ever knew, and that he's proud of you and wants you to be happy.
I'm planning to come to Hogwarts as soon as I can, and though I'll understand if you don't, I would really like the chance to just sit and talk to you, my daughter. We have many things to discuss.
Until then,
Father

I must've stared at the little smiley face drawn at the end – so similar to my brother's – tears sparkling in my eyes, for a full two minutes until Dumbledore shifted slightly in his chair, bringing me out of the mindless stupor I'd fallen into.

My mind was almost completely blank – I had but one question echoing in my mind.

"What the fuck?"

Dumbledore gave a small smile as I clapped my hand to my mouth in horror, realising who I was speaking to as soon as the words were out. "Sorry!" I squeaked quickly, but he waved it off, still smiling slightly.

"Perfectly understandable, Miss Tamsworth," He said, bowing his head. "Take as long as you need; I am in no hurry."

"No…no, I'm finished," I said, my voice sounding a million miles away. "Professor, I have a few questions – my father said I could ask you?"

"Naturally."

"Where is my father right now?"

Dumbledore sighed and gave a rueful smile.

"Alas, the first question you ask me, I cannot answer, because I truthfully don't know. However, I can tell you that he is alive and well. Voldemort has found neither him nor your brother."

I nodded; I'd expected this. Next question.

"Why didn't he speak to me if he was here last night?"

"Ah. I think he thought it best to let you read this in his letter rather than try to tell you in person." I nodded again – this made a lot of sense. If Father had tried to explain all this to me in person it wouldn't have the same effect that it did in the letter; I could ask him all my other questions the next time I saw him.

I did have one last question for Dumbledore though.

"Why did Voldemort kill my Mum?"

"Your mother and father were very much against what Voldemort was doing when he first began his rise to power. Your father helped capture some of his most faithful followers, and Voldemort experienced a severe setback from this. It actually never should have happened; your father had set up some very advanced charms around your family to protect it, but somehow Voldemort found your mother alone and murdered her, out of spite I believe. I'm very sorry."

We sat in silence after he gave me this information. Everything was making sense now; my head felt heavy with the enormity of it all.

My father wasn't a real Death Eater.

My father didn't hate me.

My father actually loved me…

I stood up, almost knocking over my chair, such was my haste.

"Thank you very much Professor. May I go now?" I needed to be alone so I could think.

If Dumbledore thought it rude of me to depart so suddenly, he didn't give any indication of it.

"Absolutely. I shall send word when your father arrives."

I nodded distractedly, and, after a second of fumbling with the doorknob I was out of his office and trudging slowly down the stone steps.

I nearly ran into somebody at the bottom of the spiralling stair. I was about to apologise and be on my way when they started speaking.

"Tammie! Is everything alright? I mean, I heard Dumbledore –"

I'd recognise that voice anywhere.

"You!"

He gave a tiny tentative smile, a mere shadow of his usual brilliant smirk.

"Me," He said simply.

I was horrified when I felt the telltale lump in my throat. This was just too much.

"None of your business," I snapped, keeping my face averted as I turned away.

Then I remembered the dream. I blushed the deepest scarlet as flashes of the vivid dream came to the forefront of my mind; my body tingled deliciously at the mere memory of it.

He sighed and grabbed my arm, forcing me around to face him.

"Fuck off Black," I sighed, my voice barely audible. Abruptly, I felt more tired than I could ever remember being.

In direct contrast, Black was suddenly beyond livid.

"Why have you always got to push me away? You know, half the school's dying to be with me – you should feel privileged!"

That caught my attention.

"Oh really?" I flared. "Well why don't you go be with them then? Has it ever occurred to you that I can't even stand you? Of course not!" I shouted, my voice rising with every word, "Because you're too full of yourself to think that ANYBODY could dislike you, the great Sirius Black!"

Black was no less enraged. He violently threw his hands up in the air, making me flinch, and leaned in so we were nearly nose to nose.

"Well praise the fucking lord! I'm free! You know what, Tamsworth? I'm actually going to take your advice and go do that. I'm done with you, you're too much work."

I stood with my mouth hanging open as he turned and stalked down the corridor with his usual, slightly predatory grace; I could hear him muttering angrily to himself until he rounded the corner.

Contrary to what I myself might've thought I would do, I simply hitched my bag a bit higher up my shoulder and slowly made my way towards Gryffindor Tower.

Definitely time for bed, I decided, as a queer numbness stole over my thoughts. This is way too much drama for one day