Maybe they'll leave you alone, but not me

"Their father is known for fighting one of the darkest wizards in history. My father is known for kissing his ass."

That was the root of it, where Jack couldn’t feel totally cool and open to just biting the bullet and being friends with Matthew Lestrange. It was her prejudice against prejudice. Nothing he had ever done had indicated he believed in what his family did. In fact, so often he had acted contrarily.

But she couldn’t shake the fact that no matter how harshly he rebelled, it was dangerous for her to get close. He’d been raised by parents that had wanted her kind eradicated, wanted to stamp us out and rule over the muggle community she’d left behind. Even the casual mention of dark marks sent a shiver through her soul–she could only imagine the horrifying things he’d been told as a kid.

She knew he was a victim of circumstance, just like she was. She’d been raised by a hateful, prejudiced family as well, and that hate had been directed right at her kind. It was overwhelming to consider the hate he’d been raised in had also been pointed at her kind.

But… she didn’t know that he was a halfblood. The Lestrange-Black family was notoriously pureblood. So either there was a deep lie there or-

“Your mother, then?”

He made mention of being without family. There she understood, though it sounded like it had mostly been by his own volition. That decision had long been decided for her. It was something she could understand, something she empathized with. But she had this odd feeling that if she talked about it too much…

She just might get sad.

"Never met her." he confirmed giving her a sad little smile. Kind of looking like this

In a way it was better he didn't know her because he couldn't confront is father about whether or not what he said about her was true. Not that his father said anything more than that to him in seventeen years. A Lestrange in name and nothing more - he said to himself.

"Alright, what's say you that once we get passed the gates we head down to the lake. It's late enough we should have some peace for this..." he trailed off as he produced a small rolled cigarette filled with some sort of substance that probably wasn't lavender or Mugwart. It was the last of his stash and if the pair of them were going to continue down this path into the evening he'd rather attempt a different kind of inebriation. He returned the rolled parchment to the same pocket where he kept his wand. I had almost forgotten this was a Hogwarts RP experience and I hadn't mentioned my wand yet. So sorry, I'm a little out of practice with my Harry Potter roleplaying abilities.

"I'll admit one more thing before this has to be smoked in order for us to continue this question period." he stated firmly as he patted his pocket. "So make it a good one, Dyllan."

She considered making a joke, something about a trade. Jack wondered what a life without her mother would have looked like. If Dad had actually kept them, he’d have been a less heavy-handed influence. But the problem was Dad had never had a spine, he would have remarried. Maybe it would have been better, maybe not. All Jack knew was that she knew her mother and that had never exactly brought her peace.

But she didn’t make the joke, because this was sort of uncharted waters for her. Jack didn’t often talk feelings. Must have something to do with the whole aura of ‘feelings, what feelings, I only know wrath.’ But mostly because it required a level of familiarity she did not often get to with people, and never long maintained. Matt was a bit different in the spikes of closeness they had, the flush of good will that came after a verbal assault. But even that ended when eventually they crossed paths on a wrong day about a sore subject.

Somehow, she knew she was one of the few to get this bit of lore, though. She knew she’d be nervous later, dropping that info to someone and having to trust them with it. So she wasn’t going to play around with that.

“You saint,” she said, as he procured the ciggy. She twirled a lighter out of her pocket as confirmation that she was always down. It was a nice night, a trip to the lake sounded lovely.

They crossed through the gates to the grounds, definitely the last of the stragglers as Matt offered her once last question.

And of course she had them. Why’d he ask about her hair? Why didn’t he believe what his parents did? Had his parents ever changed, ever wavered, especially after the war was over? Why didn’t he have more friends in the den of snakes, or were they all the same?

But God how embarrassing to admit she was curious. She came to a halt, and turned, looking at him somberly as a question popped into her head, one that probably was not at all what he expected.

“How do you keep the volume in your hair? And with no frizz either, in this climate.”

Hair

He had given her access to his lore, his backstory, the things that made him who he was. In that moment, however, she showed her hand. She wanted to spend time with him.

He smirked at her, knowingly. "Sleakeazy extra hold and the only good part of my genes." he told her as they made their way through the courtyard and towards the grounds. There were definitely still some students out, mostly older years, which was nice. They were less likely to narc but also more likely to approach and bum a drag. "My grandpa hasn't cut his hair since he was in his 40's, he's kind of a hippie that way. It drives my grandma crazy, she's always threatening to cut it off." he added, as a second little nugget of info for her to broach when she wanted.

There was nothing like a good puff to open up two completely closed off individuals. It had almost happened before and Matt knew he had a golden opportunity in this moment. He knew that it, on some level, it would bother the shit out of Jack if Matt was willing to open up more than she was. He had already been going through the process of pulling his head out of his ass and was determined to try to and make a few more friends before he graduated. But, he wondered if she was willing to go as far as she was - to reach out and offer friendship. But, she had friends, he didn't. This could just as easily go South for him - but he didn't care, not really.

They started down the pathway to the shores of the black lake, the groups of 6th and 7th years diminishing in numbers as they went.

"Thank you by the way, that's a huge compliment on my hair." he added as they reached the shores of the lake and he pulled out the joint.

Jack did this. It’d happened with teammates before too. A teammate would suddenly start showing up late, missing goals, and she’d call them out. After practice, when she pulled them aside to give them a warning, they’d admit something. A sick grandparent, a dead pet, a bad breakup. She never knew what to do. She knew, in their shoes, she’d be upset even having to admit to a weakness, let alone talk about it at length. So she’d grumble something of an apology, lie about real life being more important than Quidditch, and try to be a bit softer on them until things got better.

“Ah, a good part of the genes, that’s what I keep forgetting,” she said, the closest admission she’d made about her family in some time. “Got it, be born better next time.” She made a check in the air, while quietly musing to herself the mention of the grandparents. Interesting.

“Whoa, whoa, don’t get ahead of yourself with this ‘compliment’ business. Let’s call it ‘morbid curiosity.”

She waited for him to pass her the joint and took a deep drag, wincing against the urge to cough. The Firewhiskey didn’t help. Passing it back, she flopped onto the bank, certain she’d stain her jeans with grass. Who cared, they were hand-me-downs from Riley anyway, badly tailored to fit her short legs.

After a moment, a thought struck her and she quirked her head towards him, lifting an eyebrow. “You hate heights?” she asked.

Be born better.

He wrestled with the thought for much longer than he probably should have. He sat down at the base of one of the trees closer to the shoreline next to her on the grass. He looked at her as she took a drag of the joint and he seriously considered her for a second. She was muggleborn, so her parents would never be able to understand any of her own life as well as they should. A part of him was jealous of that, to not have that expectation coming from within the blood. But at the same time, it was so incredibly sad - maybe it was the firewhisky mixed with the weed but he thought he was really getting a handle on her.

Then again, every time he thought that about Jack she would go and do something that threw him for a loop. Then again, that was what he really enjoyed about their relationship - the unpredictable vulnerability of it. He took the joint from her outstretched hand and took another drag.

"The circumstances of one's birth is irrelevant, it is what you do with the gift of life that determines who you are." he said as he exhaled. He grinned at her as he held it out again - the world growing a little fuzzier.

"Can't fucking stand them. I fell off the roof when I was 6 and the Quidditch stands are about as high as I can manage; and that's while medicated." he added air quotes to the word 'medicated'.

"Boooo," she drawled, shaking a thumbs down in his direction. A cough was rolling up towards her throat as the drug really settled in. Had Baker been giving her the shit stuff? Her eyelids already felt heavy from the weight of the relaxation it brought. Only in her wired up, frantic mind would relaxation be a weight. But she needed it to drag her down, to get her to stop, to consider what it actually meant to be alive.

"Of course your birth matters," she said, matter-of-factly as she took her turn once more. "We've had how many wars about it? I don't think you or I will make it to a version of this planet where it doesn't matter. And it's not just you magic folk either," she said, waving a hand at him dismissively, as though the magic in her own veins was not enough to earn her the title. "Muggles do it too. Born poor, born a different shade, born loving someone different, born in a different kind of body. Even if you try to not make it matter to yourself, it matters to someone. And most of life is being at the mercy of other people. Unless, of course, you do what you can to block them out. But even so-you still have neighbors, the guy at the market, teachers, classmates, whatever."

As she reached the end, she recognized she was beginning to ramble, so she handed the joint back. But this really was one of those things she thought about quite a bit. How different it'd have been to be born to at least one magical parent. To have born to kind people. To have been born with a savings account. To have been born nicer, more pleasant, more capable of, god what was it. Non-ironic joy?

"You can make your own way but it takes serious lying and self delusion to offset your birth," she said with an air of finality. "First act of violence, and it's right at the start."

She took a moment to process his explanation of heights and then gave him a quizzical look. "See that's weird, I thought you loved getting high." At this point her eyelids were properly heavy, the grin on her face fully twisted, and she threw back her head to laugh.

He felt the involuntary laugh coming, he even tried to stop it as it left his mouth but he was too far gone. It wasn't even that much of a joke but their laughter echoed across the water. His eyes began to water and he rubbed them as his laughter quieted. He made a mental note at the time, not that he would remember - birth is a hot topic for her. It had been for him for quite some time, maybe he would annoy her into letting him help her with that.

"If we've had so many damn wars that there's no point in any other conversation, then why are you, Jack Dyllan, a muggleborn and I, Matthew Lestrange, member of one of the most pieces of shit pureblood supremacy bullshit family...." he trailed off as he turned to look at her.

"...sharing one of the most absolutely not 'my best chill light-high flower' that I was promised joints without killing each other." he asked her with a smirk.

"Trick question, it's because I belong by blood only." he said quickly - maybe a bit too quickly. He leaned back further in the tree, coughing slightly, staring back out at the sun that was beginning to set over the lake. Curfew would be soon, they had likely already missed dinner, he was sure she knew her way into the kitchens. He took his joint back and took another long drag, probably more than he anticipated but he wasn't sure he knew at that point.

"I'm the perfect example of what can happen if the right people get the right child!" he said dramatically. "You think my father had any hand in any of this?" he gestured to all of him.

For a moment, they just laughed. It wasn't even that good a joke, but the fact that it had been set up so well was hitting different with their altered state. And then she was laughing because he was laughing. Laughing was fun. It'd been a long time since she'd had a proper one too, one that was shared.

This was what she used to see on television and the movies, teenagers breaking rules and sharing a laugh. This was what she was supposed to be doing at seventeen.

Finally they settled down, and her silence rang in her ears. She could hear the noisy wildlife of the lake, and it sounded like they were getting the joke just a second too late.

He continued on and when she paused, she glanced over. "I'm not gonna stop you if that's what you're thinking," she jokingly warned. She had no interest in softening his family legacy, she'd read the stories. She wouldn't expect anyone to soften her own.

He answered his question quickly and she mused on it for a moment, squinting at the lake before finding her response. Squeezing an eye shut as she lolled her head in his direction, trying to stay focused, she said, "Hey you've got me beat, I'm 0-0 on belonging." She snorted a laugh, even though, really, it wasn't funny.

But he kept going and she was getting better at picking up on the dropped leads. Eyebrows knit together, her neck whipped his way. "I mean, yeah, I assumed some input," she said. "'Specially if mom wasn't around."

Finally

Finally he could play the card he had been waiting to play - he wasn't sure if he wanted to play it. He had spent the entire walk from Hogsmeade wrestling with whether or not he would. Now, dear readers, I don't know if any of you have been as crossfaded as I have written Matthew Lestrange right now. But, it's at this point for myself, the textbook 'oversharer' that I'm getting deep into my backstory. This, was how Matthew Lestrange was feeling right now. So, it made perfect sense that he drop the knowledge bomb on Jack.

"I used to get a letter every month from my father telling me how much of a disappointment I am to the family because of, well because of multiple reasons. Sometimes it was my performance in school, usually it was because I don't have any interest in blood purity, but always because of my mother and my blood status. No, he never had much hand in actually raising me." he could feel the anger rise but the effects of both weed and whisky kept him calm. "My grandparents, actually, they stepped up - on my mothers side. My grandfather is actually a wizard but he was abandoned by the family for marrying a squib after my father's mother passed away."

His grandfather had little contact with anyone but his father and that never lasted longer than a few minutes per year. He sniffed, rubbing his nose, his nose always ran when he smoked. "But that's nothing, at least I've got someone I can share my experience with." he continued. "I can't imagine not being able to share your experience with your family and have them actually understand it. This whole muggle/wizard divide thing is just bullshit."