"Hey, I think that someday I might need you somehow.
I think I might have loved you."
- Million Miles

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Sirius Black was happy as a free man. He'd taken a chance to get out of England, far away from the war and those searching for him; right now, he found himself comfortable on a sunny island taknig his ease and trying to heal from years of battering and mental anguish. It was, so far, completely recuperative and taking many of the years away from him. Unfortunately, it also made him restless. Because Sirius Black was not one to sit back when there was work to be done- like raising his godson.

It had been a quiet year. Harry was in the Triwizard Tournament, which made Sirius beam with pride that was almost fatherly. Still, he'd have liked to be at the young wizard's side. Harry told him everything, and Sirius became nervous, fearful for his godson's plight...

Almost as much as Bella.

Sirius longed to go back to rescue Bella, and began making plans to do so. The plotting came out seamlessly; he would return for his cousin, his friend... his lover...

"Sirius! Sirius Black!"

It was only Dumbledore who could stall those plans, and only with a few words, a single sentence. Only one thing could startle Sirius back into the real world.

"He's back."

Voldemort had returned. Sirius shuddered. Yet his fear was not for himself, or those who had died at the Dark Lord's hand before now. No, he was afraid for one person alone.

Late in the night, as Sirius prepared to return to England, he whispered into the air.

"I'm sorry, Bella. I never should have left you this long."

A part of Sirius knew he needed Bellatrix. The heart of him, the part that ached when he thought of her plight. Stuck in Azkaban no longer, she was freed- resurrected as a premier killer. A person that Sirius had learned she did not like being. But in her insanity, in her desperation, she might take it. May see it as her only way out. So she would kill again, would be that person once more, killing the soul that Sirius knew he needed.

He might have needed her. Might have loved her. But she was now, and perhaps always would be, a killer.