House of Cards
Title: House of Cards
Author: akat
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I do not own BtVS or Harry Potter.
Spoilers: HP through Order of the Phoenix. Pre-BtVS series.
Summary: Pull one card out, and everything falls. For Joyce, it was the moment she saw him, a man that bore an uncanny resemblance to someone she had tried her best to forget. And according to the news report, he was wanted for murder. Sequel to ‘ Selfishly Selfless’.
Word Count: 2067
A/N: So... Regulus died in 1979 and Buffy was born in 1981. Instead of making Joyce have an unreasonably long and highly suspicious pregnancy, I’m moving Buffy’s date of birth up a year to 1980. All BtVS events will be moved up accordingly. For example, she was Called in 1994, not 1995, and she started her sophomore year at Sunnydale in 1995, not 1996. HP timeline stays the same.
+++
Los Angeles, 1993
Joyce studied her reflection in the mirror. She was dressed, her hair was done, her makeup was applied-
Earrings, she realized. She needed earrings.
She quickly opened her jewelry box and began rummaging through it; however, she dismissed every pair almost as soon as she had laid eyes on it. None of them seemed to work.
Joyce frowned. It was a big night for Hank. His firm was hosting a cocktail dinner for its biggest clients. Already poised to make partner, this could possibly seal the deal for him, which meant she needed to look and act perfectly tonight.
A part of Joyce chafed at playing the role of Stepford wife, but she couldn’t afford to pay any attention to it. This was too important, to both Hank and to their marriage. For while she knew the stress of making partner wasn’t the reason for all the problems between them, it certainly hadn’t helped. Before one of the senior partners had pulled Hank aside and told him about this opportunity, they argued a lot; now, however, it seemed like they were fighting all the time. Therefore, it stood to reason that tonight could just be the thing they needed to turn their relationship around.
To do that, though, she first needed to find the right pair of earrings.
Feeling a little like a woman possessed, Joyce began emptying out the contents of the box onto the table. Just when she was starting to get desperate, she remembered a particular pair of earrings she kept tucked away in their own little compartment for safe keeping.
With a sound of triumph, she pulled out the pair of diamond teardrop earrings - the ones Hank had gotten her for their tenth anniversary - and carefully put them on. Then she looked at her reflection again. This time she was satisfied with what she saw.
Joyce rose to her feet. She had planned on checking in with Buffy before she left; she felt like she barely saw her daughter these days. When she glanced at the clock, however, she saw that she didn’t have time. It was already seven thirty, and the dinner started at eight. She was surprised Hank hadn’t come upstairs to hurry her along yet.
Joyce grabbed her purse off the vanity table and hurried across the bedroom toward the door.
As she passed by the small entertainment center they had in their room, she noticed that Hank had left the TV on once again. It was a bad habit of his, turning it on some news station to watch the stock ticker tape at the bottom screen on mute and then forgetting about it.
With a long-suffering sigh, Joyce grabbed the remote to turn it off. Just as she was about to press the power button, however, a picture flashed across the screen, one that made her heart stop.
It was the face of a man, one that bore an uncanny resemblance to someone she had tried her best to forget.
Almost frantically, Joyce turned the volume up.
“… London, authorities are still on the hunt for mass murderer Sirius Black. The fugitive, responsible for death of 12 people, is presumed armed and dangerous. And in other news-”
Joyce sat down on the edge of her bed, completely numb. It wasn’t him. It wasn’t Regulus. But he looked just like him. And that name. Sirius. It was very unusual and yet somehow familiar...
Then she realized why, and she almost fell off the bed in shock.
As much as she had convinced herself that that night hadn’t happened, she still remembered every bit of it, like it was just yesterday - including a particularly weird bit of conversation.
“Good to see you’re not always so serious.”
“No, that’s my brother. I’m Regulus.”
Joyce suddenly found it difficult to breathe. The wanted man on the TV wasn’t him, but it was almost just as bad. It was his brother. It had to be, which meant-
“Joyce, are you ready to- Joyce! What’s the matter?”
Joyce gave a start as Hank suddenly appeared in front of her, a frown on his face.
“Nothing, I’m fine,” she said, plastering a smile on her face. When she saw that he wasn’t buying it, she sighed. “I… I just have a small headache, but I’ll be fine, I promise.”
She held her breath as Hank looked her over.
“Well, as long as you’re sure,” he said slowly.
Then his face relaxed into a smile and he gave her a small peck on the cheek, mindful of her makeup.
Despite the seriousness of the situation, Joyce felt a small flutter of hope. He hadn’t looked at her like that in weeks.
“You look beautiful,” he continued. “I’ll be the envy of everyone there. Come on, let’s go or we’ll be late.”
Then he held out his hand, a soft smile still on his face.
Joyce made up her mind right then and there.
Tonight was Hank’s night. It was not the time for her to wallow in her guilt for that one indiscretion all those years ago before they were even married. Besides, she didn't know for sure that this Sirius Black was Regulus' brother, and even if he was, she wasn't positive Regulus was Buffy's biological father. And while seeing Sirius Black’s face was a jarring reminder of the past, that’s all it was - the past. It had no effect on the future whatsoever, which meant there was no reason to dredge up ancient history now, or ever, not when it would only hurt everyone involved. Buffy was her daddy’s little girl, Hank’s little girl, whether it was by blood or not.
As Joyce let herself be led out of the room, she firmly put all thoughts of Sirius Black, Regulus, and that night in London aside, actually believing that everything was going to be okay.
+++
Los Angeles, 1995
Joyce sat in her kitchen, staring at the bowl of yogurt in front of her.
She had been sitting there for a better part of an hour, trying to force herself to eat, but it wasn’t going to happen. She had no appetite whatsoever. She hadn’t, not since she and Hank put Buffy in that psychiatric hospital and left her there.
Joyce's hands curled into fists at the thought of her daughter, locked in a room as doctors poked and prodded her, remembering the way Buffy had pleaded with them not to leave her there.
Needing to do something, anything, to get her mind off of the current situation, Joyce abruptly stood up and walked over to the kitchen sink with her bowl of yogurt, thinking she would do the dishes. When she got there, however, she saw that the sink was empty.
Of course it was. Buffy was locked away and Hank was in the office, pretending there weren’t any problems at home.
She dropped the bowl with a clatter, the sound echoing through the large, empty house.
Defeated, Joyce put her head in her hands and cried.
She cried for Buffy, stuck in that awful place. She cried for Hank, who would rather bury himself in work at the office than deal with the problems with their daughter and their marriage. But most of all, she cried for the overwhelming guilt she felt at her role in all of it.
For sixteen years, she had denied the possibility that Buffy’s father was anyone but Hank. Even after seeing that picture of Sirius Black on the TV a few years ago, she kept her silence out of guilt and shame. And now Buffy was paying the price.
Sirius Black was a mass murderer. Obviously, something wasn’t right in his head. And Regulus himself had had a dark side. It was partly what had drawn Joyce to him all those years ago.
What if there was mental illness in the family? What if Buffy had something passed on to her, something that could be treatable, or worse, could have been avoided, if only they had known?
Maybe if she had really thought about that news story when she had first heard about it, she could have done something.
Joyce felt another wave of guilt wash over her, and it almost brought her to her knees. Before she could fall, however, she grabbed the edge of the sink, her knuckles turning white from the effort.
Wallowing in self-pity wasn’t going to help Buffy. There was no changing the past, either. She could only move forward and try to fix things as best she could.
With a new sense of determination, she walked over to the phone and picked up the receiver. As soon as she heard the dial tone, she hit ‘0’.
“London, England, please. Police Headquarters.”
As she waited, she felt a weight lift from her shoulders.
Buffy was the most important thing in her life. For her, Joyce would finally face the demons of her past, no matter what the consequences would be.
+++
Ministry of Magic
Kingsley Shacklebolt put his quill down and stretched. He had finally finished his reports. It was time to knock off for the day.
As he stood, however, a bell began to ring in his office; first softly, then rising in pitch until it was causing quite the racket. At the same time, he saw a quill over in the corner begin to move, scratching out words on a piece of parchment in a most frantic fashion.
Kingsley frowned. That particular quill was enchanted, connected to the Muggle authorities’ phone line to record any calls mentioning the name ‘Sirius Black’ as a way of tracking sightings of the fugitive in the Muggle world.
Those first few months Black had escaped from Azkaban, the quill moved almost non-stop. They had had to pull wizards from the other departments just to man it, as the Aurors themselves were running around, investigating all the leads it produced.
None of them had panned out, of course. It was mostly neighbors reporting each other, either disgruntled with one another or extremely paranoid about new additions to the neighborhood. And of course there had been a few tips that were just off the wall. His personal favorite was the caller who had claimed Black was masquerading as the lead singer in a popular music band, which at the time was headlining a large Muggle event called T in the Park, or something like it - though perhaps some of that stemmed from the fact that Dawlish had been the Auror assigned to that call.
Eventually, as the months went by, the calls had come in less and less frequently, dwindling to the point where the quill didn’t move at all most days. When that had happened, the quill had been moved to Kingsley’s office, as he was lead Auror on this case.
It turned out to be a stroke of fortune, when soon after the truth about Black had been revealed.
Quite a fantastic story that had been, but Dumbledore had vouched for the man. Now Black’s family home was being used as headquarters for the reconstituted Order of the Phoenix, with Black himself taking up permanent residence there - in every sense of the word. Kingsley had it on good authority that Dumbledore had ‘requested’ that Black stay indoors; however, Black was brash and impulsive, which meant he was not always inclined to follow orders.
As Kingsley made his way over to the quill, he feared that Black had decided to go on a jaunt, despite Dumbledore’s orders, and been spotted, to boot.
He tapped his foot impatiently as he waited for the quill to finish writing. As soon as it had stilled, he quickly picked up the parchment and scanned it. He felt an immense sense of relief when he saw that the call was from the States, of all places, a country that Black was most decidedly not in. As he read further, however, his eyebrows rose in shock.
Whoever had called was not just inquiring about Sirius Black and whether he had been captured yet. The caller was also asking about his brother, Regulus - a Death Eater who had been dead for sixteen odd years.
Without delay, Kingsley pocketed the parchment and swiftly made his way out of the Ministry. It appeared as though his night was far from over, as a visit to Hogwarts was now clearly in order.
+++
Author: akat
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I do not own BtVS or Harry Potter.
Spoilers: HP through Order of the Phoenix. Pre-BtVS series.
Summary: Pull one card out, and everything falls. For Joyce, it was the moment she saw him, a man that bore an uncanny resemblance to someone she had tried her best to forget. And according to the news report, he was wanted for murder. Sequel to ‘ Selfishly Selfless’.
Word Count: 2067
A/N: So... Regulus died in 1979 and Buffy was born in 1981. Instead of making Joyce have an unreasonably long and highly suspicious pregnancy, I’m moving Buffy’s date of birth up a year to 1980. All BtVS events will be moved up accordingly. For example, she was Called in 1994, not 1995, and she started her sophomore year at Sunnydale in 1995, not 1996. HP timeline stays the same.
+++
Los Angeles, 1993
Joyce studied her reflection in the mirror. She was dressed, her hair was done, her makeup was applied-
Earrings, she realized. She needed earrings.
She quickly opened her jewelry box and began rummaging through it; however, she dismissed every pair almost as soon as she had laid eyes on it. None of them seemed to work.
Joyce frowned. It was a big night for Hank. His firm was hosting a cocktail dinner for its biggest clients. Already poised to make partner, this could possibly seal the deal for him, which meant she needed to look and act perfectly tonight.
A part of Joyce chafed at playing the role of Stepford wife, but she couldn’t afford to pay any attention to it. This was too important, to both Hank and to their marriage. For while she knew the stress of making partner wasn’t the reason for all the problems between them, it certainly hadn’t helped. Before one of the senior partners had pulled Hank aside and told him about this opportunity, they argued a lot; now, however, it seemed like they were fighting all the time. Therefore, it stood to reason that tonight could just be the thing they needed to turn their relationship around.
To do that, though, she first needed to find the right pair of earrings.
Feeling a little like a woman possessed, Joyce began emptying out the contents of the box onto the table. Just when she was starting to get desperate, she remembered a particular pair of earrings she kept tucked away in their own little compartment for safe keeping.
With a sound of triumph, she pulled out the pair of diamond teardrop earrings - the ones Hank had gotten her for their tenth anniversary - and carefully put them on. Then she looked at her reflection again. This time she was satisfied with what she saw.
Joyce rose to her feet. She had planned on checking in with Buffy before she left; she felt like she barely saw her daughter these days. When she glanced at the clock, however, she saw that she didn’t have time. It was already seven thirty, and the dinner started at eight. She was surprised Hank hadn’t come upstairs to hurry her along yet.
Joyce grabbed her purse off the vanity table and hurried across the bedroom toward the door.
As she passed by the small entertainment center they had in their room, she noticed that Hank had left the TV on once again. It was a bad habit of his, turning it on some news station to watch the stock ticker tape at the bottom screen on mute and then forgetting about it.
With a long-suffering sigh, Joyce grabbed the remote to turn it off. Just as she was about to press the power button, however, a picture flashed across the screen, one that made her heart stop.
It was the face of a man, one that bore an uncanny resemblance to someone she had tried her best to forget.
Almost frantically, Joyce turned the volume up.
“… London, authorities are still on the hunt for mass murderer Sirius Black. The fugitive, responsible for death of 12 people, is presumed armed and dangerous. And in other news-”
Joyce sat down on the edge of her bed, completely numb. It wasn’t him. It wasn’t Regulus. But he looked just like him. And that name. Sirius. It was very unusual and yet somehow familiar...
Then she realized why, and she almost fell off the bed in shock.
As much as she had convinced herself that that night hadn’t happened, she still remembered every bit of it, like it was just yesterday - including a particularly weird bit of conversation.
“Good to see you’re not always so serious.”
“No, that’s my brother. I’m Regulus.”
Joyce suddenly found it difficult to breathe. The wanted man on the TV wasn’t him, but it was almost just as bad. It was his brother. It had to be, which meant-
“Joyce, are you ready to- Joyce! What’s the matter?”
Joyce gave a start as Hank suddenly appeared in front of her, a frown on his face.
“Nothing, I’m fine,” she said, plastering a smile on her face. When she saw that he wasn’t buying it, she sighed. “I… I just have a small headache, but I’ll be fine, I promise.”
She held her breath as Hank looked her over.
“Well, as long as you’re sure,” he said slowly.
Then his face relaxed into a smile and he gave her a small peck on the cheek, mindful of her makeup.
Despite the seriousness of the situation, Joyce felt a small flutter of hope. He hadn’t looked at her like that in weeks.
“You look beautiful,” he continued. “I’ll be the envy of everyone there. Come on, let’s go or we’ll be late.”
Then he held out his hand, a soft smile still on his face.
Joyce made up her mind right then and there.
Tonight was Hank’s night. It was not the time for her to wallow in her guilt for that one indiscretion all those years ago before they were even married. Besides, she didn't know for sure that this Sirius Black was Regulus' brother, and even if he was, she wasn't positive Regulus was Buffy's biological father. And while seeing Sirius Black’s face was a jarring reminder of the past, that’s all it was - the past. It had no effect on the future whatsoever, which meant there was no reason to dredge up ancient history now, or ever, not when it would only hurt everyone involved. Buffy was her daddy’s little girl, Hank’s little girl, whether it was by blood or not.
As Joyce let herself be led out of the room, she firmly put all thoughts of Sirius Black, Regulus, and that night in London aside, actually believing that everything was going to be okay.
+++
Los Angeles, 1995
Joyce sat in her kitchen, staring at the bowl of yogurt in front of her.
She had been sitting there for a better part of an hour, trying to force herself to eat, but it wasn’t going to happen. She had no appetite whatsoever. She hadn’t, not since she and Hank put Buffy in that psychiatric hospital and left her there.
Joyce's hands curled into fists at the thought of her daughter, locked in a room as doctors poked and prodded her, remembering the way Buffy had pleaded with them not to leave her there.
Needing to do something, anything, to get her mind off of the current situation, Joyce abruptly stood up and walked over to the kitchen sink with her bowl of yogurt, thinking she would do the dishes. When she got there, however, she saw that the sink was empty.
Of course it was. Buffy was locked away and Hank was in the office, pretending there weren’t any problems at home.
She dropped the bowl with a clatter, the sound echoing through the large, empty house.
Defeated, Joyce put her head in her hands and cried.
She cried for Buffy, stuck in that awful place. She cried for Hank, who would rather bury himself in work at the office than deal with the problems with their daughter and their marriage. But most of all, she cried for the overwhelming guilt she felt at her role in all of it.
For sixteen years, she had denied the possibility that Buffy’s father was anyone but Hank. Even after seeing that picture of Sirius Black on the TV a few years ago, she kept her silence out of guilt and shame. And now Buffy was paying the price.
Sirius Black was a mass murderer. Obviously, something wasn’t right in his head. And Regulus himself had had a dark side. It was partly what had drawn Joyce to him all those years ago.
What if there was mental illness in the family? What if Buffy had something passed on to her, something that could be treatable, or worse, could have been avoided, if only they had known?
Maybe if she had really thought about that news story when she had first heard about it, she could have done something.
Joyce felt another wave of guilt wash over her, and it almost brought her to her knees. Before she could fall, however, she grabbed the edge of the sink, her knuckles turning white from the effort.
Wallowing in self-pity wasn’t going to help Buffy. There was no changing the past, either. She could only move forward and try to fix things as best she could.
With a new sense of determination, she walked over to the phone and picked up the receiver. As soon as she heard the dial tone, she hit ‘0’.
“London, England, please. Police Headquarters.”
As she waited, she felt a weight lift from her shoulders.
Buffy was the most important thing in her life. For her, Joyce would finally face the demons of her past, no matter what the consequences would be.
+++
Ministry of Magic
Kingsley Shacklebolt put his quill down and stretched. He had finally finished his reports. It was time to knock off for the day.
As he stood, however, a bell began to ring in his office; first softly, then rising in pitch until it was causing quite the racket. At the same time, he saw a quill over in the corner begin to move, scratching out words on a piece of parchment in a most frantic fashion.
Kingsley frowned. That particular quill was enchanted, connected to the Muggle authorities’ phone line to record any calls mentioning the name ‘Sirius Black’ as a way of tracking sightings of the fugitive in the Muggle world.
Those first few months Black had escaped from Azkaban, the quill moved almost non-stop. They had had to pull wizards from the other departments just to man it, as the Aurors themselves were running around, investigating all the leads it produced.
None of them had panned out, of course. It was mostly neighbors reporting each other, either disgruntled with one another or extremely paranoid about new additions to the neighborhood. And of course there had been a few tips that were just off the wall. His personal favorite was the caller who had claimed Black was masquerading as the lead singer in a popular music band, which at the time was headlining a large Muggle event called T in the Park, or something like it - though perhaps some of that stemmed from the fact that Dawlish had been the Auror assigned to that call.
Eventually, as the months went by, the calls had come in less and less frequently, dwindling to the point where the quill didn’t move at all most days. When that had happened, the quill had been moved to Kingsley’s office, as he was lead Auror on this case.
It turned out to be a stroke of fortune, when soon after the truth about Black had been revealed.
Quite a fantastic story that had been, but Dumbledore had vouched for the man. Now Black’s family home was being used as headquarters for the reconstituted Order of the Phoenix, with Black himself taking up permanent residence there - in every sense of the word. Kingsley had it on good authority that Dumbledore had ‘requested’ that Black stay indoors; however, Black was brash and impulsive, which meant he was not always inclined to follow orders.
As Kingsley made his way over to the quill, he feared that Black had decided to go on a jaunt, despite Dumbledore’s orders, and been spotted, to boot.
He tapped his foot impatiently as he waited for the quill to finish writing. As soon as it had stilled, he quickly picked up the parchment and scanned it. He felt an immense sense of relief when he saw that the call was from the States, of all places, a country that Black was most decidedly not in. As he read further, however, his eyebrows rose in shock.
Whoever had called was not just inquiring about Sirius Black and whether he had been captured yet. The caller was also asking about his brother, Regulus - a Death Eater who had been dead for sixteen odd years.
Without delay, Kingsley pocketed the parchment and swiftly made his way out of the Ministry. It appeared as though his night was far from over, as a visit to Hogwarts was now clearly in order.
+++