The Pureblood Princess | Sirius Black

|96| Engaging in Espionage

The morning after her impromptu Veela research session, Adelaide sat with her boys at breakfast, spoon idly poking at her oatmeal and scraping against the bottom of the bowl, only vaguely listening to James as he went on and on about some prank idea he had that involved palm trees that grew books instead of bananas. Her long platinum blonde tresses fell down in loose natural curls, obscuring her face which was unusually devoid of make-up. She rationalized that her barefaced look was a product of her morning fatigue, but deep down she knew it had less to do with her being lazy and more to do with Vessela Vassileva's accounts on the perils of beauty.

She was so annoyed and frustrated with that stupid book, with the fact that it affected her so deeply, with all the stupid rumors that led her to read it; but mostly she was frustrated that part of her could see how she might resemble one of those terrifying creatures. But she wasn't a Veela. She just couldn't be. Her coincidental similarities were just that—coincidence. Why hadn't she just picked up the book on Mediterranean Sirens instead?

With a sigh she tried her hardest to listen as Peter praised James for his superb pranking ideas, banishing those worrisome Veela thoughts from her mind. The only consolation she had was to tell herself that once she found the family tree book that summer, the truth would be revealed and everything would be sorted.

Well, almost everything.

A warm laugh rose up above the din of morning chatter.

Mary's laugh.

Adelaide's heart twinged and her already melancholy mood intensified. She knew she just needed to Gryffindor up and talk to Mary and sort things out between them. It was a simple task. All she had to do was walk up and tell her from the depths of her heart how very sorry she was for lying and that she'd never do it again. But was that even a promise she could make?

What would she do if Mary asked her to explain her behavior? Would she lie again? The alternative would be to explain her ties with Riddle. The very thought filled her with dread. She'd have to tell her best friend how that awful man was manipulating nearly every aspect of her life. Would Mary even want to still be friends with her, knowing that by doing so she was essentially putting her and her family in danger? Should she? Adelaide selfishly hoped that she would, but a cold nagging voice in the back of her mind, a voice that only grew louder and more aggressive with every overheard chuckle, said that perhaps Mary's life was better without her in it.

The fear of Mary's reaction—fear of Mary's possible rejection smothered every ounce of bravery she possessed, robbing her of the urgent conviction she needed to truly end their fight. Adelaide had endured torture, emotional neglect, insurmountable grief, and could probably cope were it revealed that she was descended from a long line of secret Veelas, but Mary hating her forever? That would be unbearable.

These worrisome thoughts were temporarily diverted when, with an unexpected, and rather ungraceful flump, an old tawny delivery-owl carrying the morning edition of the Daily Prophet landed on the table between Adelaide and Remus, toppling a bowl of fruit in the process. As apples and oranges rolled down the table toward a couple of second years seated beside them, and the owl began to peck at the bacon on Sirius's plate (much to his dismay), Adelaide dug through her bookbag for five bronze Knuts. Carefully, she placed them in the small drawstring pouch attached to the grumpy owl's leg, thereby sending him flapping away towards the rafters, a large strip of stolen bacon flopping from his beak.

"That's the third time in a week one of those bloody delivery-birds have eaten my bacon!" Sirius complained obnoxiously. "It's like they don't have any standards!"

A sly smile tugged at Adelaide's lips as she unfurled the paper. Sirius could be such a drama queen.

"Here, you can have some of mine if you're still hungry, Padfoot—" Peter offered in earnest.