Hi! So this is a MASSIVE chapter, especially for this story, but I couldn't find a good place to break it, even though I switch POV partway through, Eloise's part just seemed a touch too small to have its own chapter.

Anyways, read and please review you guys! It makes uploading much more fun and the emails give me a nice reminder that I need to do it!

Love, Essie

Eloise, 1978

We had been married for a month when I got it. I was out in the gardens drawing a nearby hummingbird sucking the nectar from a flower and had just traded in the pencil for some watercolors when Sirius came outside. Brilliant.

"Yes?" I asked, mixing pain colors carefully.

"Mail came for you." He said and put it on the table I was sitting at. "It's really good—the bird, I mean." He added before leaving. I looked over at the letter, putting down my paintbrush and picking it up to read it.

Eloise Bennett

I missed my old name. I missed my old life in general. I missed Italy and I missed Beauxbatons. I wanted to go back to before I'd met Sirius—before I'd found out about this stupid marriage at all. I smiled a bit though, recognizing the handwriting. I opened the letter and read it curiously, wondering what Melody would want—she was busy being in a cute relationship and having a brilliant job in the Ministry of Magic last I heard.

Lulu,

I know it's been so long and I can't believe I've been out of Beauxbatons for over three years now! I've never forgotten about my favorite underclassman though—us English-speakers have to stick together, huh? You've certainly graduated by now and I heard from Jamie that you've finally married some bloke for that marriage that your parents have been harping on about since forever—which actually kind of leads me to the reason I'm writing. See…I'm getting married! Carter proposed not a week ago and it was so romantic. He took me to the beach we met on in Greece and while we were watching the sunset, he got down on one knee without me even noticing! That probably won't come as a surprise though—you know how oblivious I can be about what's going on around me.

The wedding's going to be in mid-July, I think and there's something I really want to ask of you. I can't make you a bridesmaid, as much as I wanted to (Carter has two groomsmen and a Best Man and I have the three sisters, so that fills all the spots) but I was wondering if my talented little underclassman would be willing to design my wedding dress because she loves me so much. I really want it to be special and I can't think of any better person in the world for the job.

Wedding or not, we have to catch up soon, especially now that you're living back in the country all the time now. Carter and I are looking for houses in London (jobs at the Ministry and all) and according to your mother, you're not too far away in Bath. Besides, I HAVE to meet this husband of yours soon—I don't care if you don't love him, but you're spending your lives together and I want to see whether he's good enough for my Lulu (he probably isn't—no one ever will be, love, just face it).

Anyways, please write back about the dress (you're totally going to do it, we both know it) and we'll make plans together soon, okay? Look for the official invite to the wedding in the post!

Love you!

Mel

I read the letter twice before I realized that there was another paper in the envelope. It was a photo. It was of Melody, Jamie (my best friend), me, and the rest of our girlfriends at school (including Mel's sisters), just before Mel had graduated. There were about twelve of us total. I read the back and smiled at Melody's caption: the girls at Mel and Tay's graduation, 1975

Without further ado, I burst into tears looking at the picture.

I missed my life. I even missed those stupid hats we had been forced to wear to class. I just wanted my own life back. I missed being that happy, laughing with all my friends. Merlin, I missed laughing; I don't think I've laughed since I got married.

I didn't want to live here and I didn't want to be married to Sirius. I wanted to live in Italy with my parents and brother, I wanted to go to Beauxbatons in a few weeks like normal, I wanted to have a girls' night with all twelve of those girls in the dorms, staying up until an unholy hour. I wanted to be in love with my husband like Mel was—I wanted someone to propose to me where we met, to get down on one knee and give me a ring. I wanted to have a real wedding in a white dress with all my friends there and I wanted to have a first dance and a bouquet toss and to shove cake into my husband's face while we laughed. I wanted to be excited for the future.

But I wasn't.

I couldn't have any of that because I did live here, I was married to Sirius, and I couldn't turn back time—no matter how much I wished I could. I'd never marry the man I loved and I'd never have an engagement ring or wear a white dress or have someone tell me that they'll love me forever. Those were all facts and I hated every single one of them. For the first time in my life, I felt…cheated. I felt like my parents had cheated me out of a good life—my life—I realized as I continued to sob in the garden, watercolors traded up for waterworks.

"Eloise?" I looked up to see Sirius.

"What?" I asked, wiping my eyes.

"Is everything okay? I heard you crying from inside and…"

"Everything's fine—more than, really. One of my best friends is getting married." I said, wiping my eyes again. "She's a few years older than us and she's been with Carter for years now; he's a great guy and Mel's always been one to start a family. No one's hurt or anything." He nodded a little.

"If you're sure…"

"I am. If you don't mind, I'd like some privacy." I said, picking up my paints and notebook and walking inside, clutching the letter and photo to my chest as I went, tears still falling. I put the photo on my nightstand, conjuring a frame for it and positioning it in a way I could see it from bed before placing the letter on my vanity beside my sketchbook with the hummingbird in it. I looked over at the easel that had been unused so far and pulled a canvas out of the closet in the hall and placed it there, summoning my acrylic paints and a pencil.

Someone cleared his throat in the doorway. I looked up to see Sirius.

"Dinner's ready."

"You couldn't have sent Mipsy? She normally gets me." I asked, eyeing him.

"She tried. You just ignored her." Sirius said. I nodded, unsurprised. Mother always used to say that the building could fall down around my ears while I painted and I wouldn't notice.

"Oh, well that wasn't very nice of me." I said, standing up from the stool I had spent the last five or so hours on (it had apparently been five hours since I'd started). "I'll be right down." I said, hoping he'd leave. He took the hint and nodded, heading back downstairs silently. I capped all my paints and such before washing my hands and going downstairs for dinner. "I'm sorry for ignoring you, Mipsy." I told the elf as I reached the dining room. "I didn't even hear you—it happens while I'm painting. My friends always picked on me for it, actually." I said, taking my seat at the ten-person table. Sirius and I sat at opposite ends, each one of us at the head of the table, pretending like the other wasn't there.

Life wasn't terribly friendly around here, suffice to say.

"I'm going out—I need to pick up a few things." I said to Sirius the next afternoon. He looked up from the letter he was writing.

"Sure. Be safe." He said and I nodded a little. I was just going to pop into London to pick up some painting supplies and the like, as I had been burning through them at an absurd rate due to the fact I didn't have much more to do right now. "Think you'll be back for dinner? Mipsy will want to know."

"I should be—I'm just getting painting things. It'll only take an hour or two at most." I said. "Enjoy your letter."

"Enjoy your shopping." Well that was the most lifeless conversation ever. We had carried better conversation the first time we had met. With that, I Apparated to London, making a mental note to get more canvases.

Sirius, 1978

Eloise had been gone for about two hours when I first felt it: an uncomfortable sting somewhere in my chest. I ignored it and kept looking through the Muggle classifieds, hoping to come across what I was looking for: a motorcycle. It happened again, this time stronger, much stronger. The burning spread from my chest and into my stomach and then my limbs, setting every part of my body that it touched on fire. This must be what infidelity feels like. She apparently wasn't out getting art supplies—she was out shagging some bloke, I realized as I fell out of my chair and hit the ground, blood starting to drip out of my mouth a bit. It lasted for who-knows how long and it suddenly vanished, except for a searing pain in my upper abdomen, leaving me barely conscious—something that lasted only a minute. I was passed out not long after the pain eased.

I woke up to see that it was dark out and it sounded like I saw still alone. Mipsy was gone as well—she had left to go get groceries not long after Eloise had gone out, so I was alone. Eloise. What a bitch. She preaches at me about not cheating and she goes and fucks some guy knowing I'd feel it. Did she just want me to feel it, to know what it felt like? Not only that, but she had been a virgin—she had gone out and given up her virginity to someone just to make a bloody point.

I got myself off the ground and stumbled to the nearest bathroom, wiping the blood off my face and trying to wake up a bit more. No wonder Eloise had been screaming for someone to help her in that hotel room—that had been horrible. Still, she was a right cunt for knowingly doing that to someone—and then not coming back to face me about it. Just as I checked the time (it was nearly ten), someone knocked on the front door. I opened it to see a very solemn police officer.

"Erm, hello." I said, hiding my wand behind me. "Can I help you?"

"Are you Sirius Black?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Your wife's name is Eloise?" I nodded. "She was in London today?"

"Yeah, that's what she told me. Why?" I asked.

"We…well, it's best you speak to her and the officer on the case." He said. "Head into London and this address. It's the station you need to go to." He handed me a card.

"What's happening? Why is she in police custody?" I asked.

"I can't tell you—all I can say is she was found in the streets and someone called the police. I'd strongly recommend heading into the station immediately." He said. I nodded and the officer nodded, heading to his car on the curb and driving away. I looked at the card. Surely this could wait until tomorrow morning. She could just hang out in one of the holding cells, couldn't she? Merlin knows she deserves it for being vindictive enough to put me through that hell.

"Master?" Mipsy had returned. "Where is Mistress? She said she would be returning for dinner." She asked. I looked down at the card.

"She's in London. I'm going to go get her." I said and Apparated with a pop, heading into London. I walked into the police station and found the receptionist lady pretty quickly. "Hi, uh an officer just came to my door about my wife. Eloise Black?" I asked. She flipped through a file.

"Of course. Officer Patrick will speak with you." She said, waving down a woman. "This is Eloise's husband." She told the woman, who nodded seriously.

"Mr. Black, my name is Officer Kate Patrick." She said, shaking my hand. "You must be wondering why we sent an officer to get you."

"It's crossed my mind, yeah." I admitted as she gestured me to a room. "Care to enlighten me?"

"Why don't you take a seat and we'll talk?" I slowly sat.

"She didn't kill someone did she? She's never seemed the type." I said before thinking much about it.

"No, she hasn't killed anyone. However, Eloise is very lucky to be alive herself." She said. I raised an eyebrow. "She's currently at a nearby hospital recovering from a gunshot wound to the abdomen."

"What?" I asked incredulously. "How exactly did she get shot?"

"She was mugged this afternoon. She only just now woke up—which is why it took us so long to contact you; we didn't know her name because everything on her had been taken. According to the account she gave my partner, she was walking with several bulky shopping bags down the street and a man pulled her into an alleyway and held her at gunpoint. She said she willingly gave everything up, but he shot her anyways. The last thing she claims to remember is him dragging her body behind a dumpster." Holy. Shit. "Fortunately, an employee of the restaurant the dumpster belongs to is a habitual smoker so when he took a step outside for a cigarette, he found her and called an ambulance. She woke up not an hour ago after undergoing surgery to remove the bullet and repair any internal damage that it did to her organs—fortunately, the doctors say she'll make a full recovery." I nodded.

"Yeah, thank God." I said, wondering why these things always had to happen to her. This was the second time she'd been in the hospital since we'd gotten married. Okay, so the first time was my fault, but whatever. Speaking of that…what had happened to me this afternoon? "The man…he didn't rape her, did he?" I asked slowly. Officer Patrick shook her head.

"No. She was fully clothed when the paramedics arrived and she's been checked repeatedly for injuries that would imply forced intercourse. He just took her jewelry, purse, and shoes—they were designer and quite valuable as I understand it." I nodded. Well, there went that theory. I sat there for a moment and Officer Patrick looked at me oddly. "Don't you want to see her?" She asked and I looked at her, realizing that most normal husbands would be beside themselves and banging down the hospital doors to see their injured wives.

"Yeah, of course. I just didn't know if there was anything else you needed to tell me." I lied, not wanting to seem like a psychopath. "Which hospital is she in?"

"I'll take you in the cruiser." She said. "Come on." I followed her to her car and silently got in the passenger seat, watching London slide by the windows. We reached the hospital and the woman walked me towards what I realized was intensive care. "You should know that she's quite injured…she's on oxygen and a lot of painkillers—she'll probably be quite loopy so don't take anything she says personally." She added, motioning to a room. "Go on in." I walked in to see Eloise lying in a hospital bed, apparently asleep. We were the only ones there, everyone else outside the room.

"Eloise?" I asked. She opened her eyes and stared at me for a solid five seconds before she finally said something.

"Great. You're here." Well, this was definitely marital bliss. "What do you want? For me to apologize for your feelings of discomfort earlier?" She asked, slurring. I raised an eyebrow. "I wasn't fucking anyone, Sirius—I know that's what you think—what you felt was me being shot. You feel my near-death experiences, like how I feel yours. Apologies." She added bitterly, nastily even. It felt weird to hear her swear. She usually had a pretty clean mouth. "What do you want?"

"The police came to the house—husband and all." I said. "How do you feel?"

"Do you really care or are you just asking?" She said belligerently.

"A bit of both, I suppose." I admitted. She shrugged.

"Like I've been shot. Still, at least this will keep me out of that fucking house for a few days." She sighed.

"That's nice of you."

"Oh, don't be so self-centered—I don't hate just you." Well that makes it better. "I hate our marriage, I hate our house, I hate the city it's in, I hate that I have nothing to do, I hate that I have friends that are happy, I hate that I can't be happy for those friends because I'm too busy feeling bad for myself." She sighed, staring at the ceiling. She was clearly drugged—she was slurring almost every other word. "My life fucking blows and there's nothing I can do about it. I'm going to waste away in that stupid house doing nothing because that's what I'm supposed to do as a good housewife and I fucking hate it. I hate that I'll never be able to marry someone I love and I hate you for helping take that away from me." She continued to ramble. Really, this is just heartwarming. It made me want to just leave her here and never come back. "That's why I didn't wear a white dress you know. I always wanted to wear one on my wedding day, but I couldn't for a man I don't love. I'll pretend for everyone else's benefit, but I'm not going to try to fool myself into thinking that I feel anything for you." Just as she said that, a nurse came in.

"Okay, I think it's time for some of the good stuff and a nice, long nap." She said, replacing the IV bag beside Eloise's bed and injecting something into the port already in her arm. "Have a nice night, sweetie." She said to Eloise. "You're welcome to stay, if you'd like." She added to me as Eloise's eyes fluttered shut, her face relaxing as the sedative took effect.

"No, I think I'll head home." I said and she nodded, giving me directions to the exit. I simply walked into a bathroom and Apparated home.

I didn't go see Eloise the next day, instead calling up James and Remus to go out to lunch and then have a couple beers, chatting about our school days. I didn't mention Eloise to them except to say that she was staying in London for a few days due to her poor health. I just let them think she was staying with her mother there or something. They didn't pry much anyways, probably half-afraid to ask about he wife I clearly didn't like.

I didn't go see Eloise the day after that either—or the day after that or the day after that. Actually, I didn't go back for a week, assuming she'd be on the mend and wouldn't want to see me anyways.

"Master?" Mipsy asked shyly over breakfast on the eighth day after Eloise had been injured. "When will Mistress be home?" She was a much bigger fan of Eloise than of me. I had never really made an attempt to do anything for her when she had belonged to my parents, while my darling wife constantly thanked her and had recently made a new outfit for Mipsy to wear so she could pick her outfit everyday.

"I don't know." I said, eating my cereal.

"Please forgive me, Master, but Mistress has asked Mipsy not to go into her room without her present and Mipsy would very much like to do laundry. Mipsy was wondering if Master could go into Mistress Eloise's room and get her clothes basket so Mipsy could wash all the clothes together." She said quickly, like she was sure she was going to be told off or beaten. I was actually quite surprised—elves never asked anything of their masters. Apparently Mipsy had been growing bolder under Eloise's encouragement, something my parents would have killed her for—woman and elf.

"I'll go get them after breakfast, Mipsy." I said, continuing to eat my cereal. "Where should I leave them?"

"Just outside the bedroom door, Master. Mipsy just cannot enter Mistress Eloise's room, but the hallway outside is allowed." She said. "Mipsy will go clean now." She added and vanished with a pop. I got up after breakfast and headed up to Eloise's room, walking in and looking for her hamper. It was quite weird being in here—I hadn't been past the doorway since we had moved in—and even weirder knowing I was in here very much without her permission.

I pulled the hamper out of her closet and looked around to see that she was pretty neat except for a few things on her vanity and the paint covered sheet covering her bed. She must put it there to protect the sheets she slept on. Before I left, I walked over into the corner and looked at the painting she had been working on. I hadn't seen any of her work so far and was curious. I looked over the easel and felt my mouth drop open slightly. It was a garden. Well, kind of like how Versailles had a 'garden'. Lots of fountains and sculptures and less trees. There was part of a palace in the background, gold and shimmering, flowers on the ground in swirling patterns. This must be Beauxbatons. It was beautiful. The sky hadn't been painted yet and neither had all of the flowers, although they were sketched out in pencil.

"Wow." I murmured, looking at it. No wonder her mother had claimed that it was a bit more than a hobby. She was one of the rare people that ever surpassed "well-trained" or "talented". She was gifted—really and truly gifted. Her parents had been right to encourage this. She was brilliant. I tore my eyes away from the painting and looked around once more before heading out. I paused at the picture on her nightstand. I had only seen it once from the doorway. I picked it up and tried to pick my wife out of the group of girls.

She wasn't there.

I slowly looked at every single person in the photo as they laughed and hugged each other, their grins frozen in time, and I still couldn't find her face. I slowly looked at each face, checking for the unusual pale blue eyes, and this time I found her. She was right in the middle, next to the two girls who weren't in blue school uniforms (theirs were silver instead).

Eloise Bennett looked nothing like Eloise Black. She was bright and alive and sunny. She looked…happy with each of her arms wrapped around a friend. She has dimples when she laughs, I noticed. She actually has dimples—something I'd have no way of knowing, as she looked absolutely miserable every time I was around her. Her friends were as pretty as she was and some of them even looked like they might be part-Veela or something. I put it back down and went to leave, only to see an open inkwell on her desk, something that was bound for a disaster.

I walked over and closed it to see that she had been responding to a letter—the one beside the one she had been half-finished with. I picked up the letter from the stranger and read it, curious. I raised an eyebrow at the greeting. Lulu. Really? Her friends called her Lulu? Had they ever met her before? I skimmed it and figured out pretty quickly what she had meant when she said that her friends were all happy and she couldn't be happy for them. Her friend was getting married to the man she loved and had been sent a letter detailing all of the romantic parts. I put it down and picked up the letter Eloise had been writing.

Mel,

Congratulations on the engagement! You and Carter are perfect in every single way and the wedding is going to be absolutely to die for! In terms of the dress, I'll do it, but you need to tell me what you want (at least kind of) and don't expect me to deliver it in person (I somehow doubt that my loving husband will be very amicable about me going with or without him).

Okay, if you don't want to hear me bitch and moan about my spouse, just skip to the last paragraph of the letter—you've been warned.

So we got married about a month ago and it's been an absolute DISASTER. He couldn't even wait until we got home from our honeymoon before he started shagging women! We had been married three days—three days!—before he was off shagging some woman in Merlin-knows-where and it's not like he's exactly knocking on my door trying to shag me. Yeah, you read that right. The bloke decided that he'd like to wait on sex ON OUR WEDDING NIGHT. It was so embarrassing—I was almost completely out of my dress and he just decides that he'd rather go out and fuck a woman with tits the size of Chloe Beaumier's rack (to be fair, I never met the woman, so you'll have to bear with me through the descriptions because that really made me feel good). He's out fucking women when he won't even fuck his own wife—I mean I don't think I'm that ugly. I've actually always thought I was quite cute, but whatever.

This marriage has been the worst thing that has ever happened in my life without a doubt. I don't know what my parents were thinking, promising me to this twat. Mother told me that they looked at dozens of men to find the right one and that she and Father were sure about him, that he'd be good to me because he's the so-called 'rebel' of the family. They were completely wrong. I love them both, I do, but I really don't see how they could have missed how much of an inconsiderate twit he is! They're smart people, they should have seen it—it's not hard to miss! I can't believe I missed it too! Because I'm me and I tend to be blindly optimistic, after I met him the first couple times, I thought that maybe things could work out and even if we didn't love each other and go dancing off into the sunset, we could at least be friends (joke's on me).

As for this whole 'rebel' business, he's exactly like the rest of the Blacks! You know their reputation as well as anyone else in the world does and he's exactly like the rest of them except for the fact he doesn't actively torture people in the kitchen when he gets bored. You should see how he treats our house elf! Treats her like absolute dirt, just like his parents do! Merlin, I'm absolutely dreading the time comes when our parents figure out that we're not having sex—we can't keep avoiding each other forever and they're going to force us into bed and then I'm going to have to have his little brats. You know how much I love kids but ugh, his kids are going to be absolute hell and of course I'm going to be stuck playing Mommy full-time, stuck in this house while he goes out and knocks up a bunch of whores all across the country, just like his father has. Merlin forbid they're boys—then I'll be living with more than one Black man that wouldn't care if I dropped dead this afternoon.

Okay, I'm going to stop bitching about my life because that's totally self-centered. Anyways, congratulations on your engagement! Carter's certainly a lucky man (literally no one deserves the perfect-in-every-way Melody George) and I'll be waiting eagerly for that invite you promised me so I can see just how stunning of a bride you'll be for myself. I'll start on the dress and let you know whether I can come (alone likely, as my spouse hates the idea of me, let alone actually spending time in the same room as me) later on, okay?

Congratulations again, love!

Lulu

I put down the letter slowly and blinked in shock. She hated me. She didn't just hate me—she fucking despised me. And she thought I hated her just as much as she clearly hates me. I didn't hate her, per say. I resented her because we were married, but I didn't want her to drop dead. Then again, she almost had dropped dead a week ago (the day she had written that letter, actually) and from where she was sitting, it probably looked like I had taken this opportunity to be disappointed that she hadn't actually died, as I hadn't been back since I had initially gone to see her. I refocused on the part about my father. He had other kids? No way. Regulus and I were the only ones on the tapestry and that thing knew everything. Besides, she had already said not to mind her exaggerations by that point in the letter.

I put the letter down where I found it and looked at the paper adjacent to it, which had made me think the letter was unfinished and not something else entirely. It looked like the beginnings of the dress she had mentioned in the letter. It was just a soft outline of a woman in pencil so far—nothing very definite.

Just as I finished looking, there was a knock on the front door, making me jump. I put the papers down where I had found them and dropped the laundry in the hallway before heading down to the front door. I opened it to see Eloise standing there, looking less than thrilled and quite pale in her hospital clothes, nothing on her feet but socks and a walker in front of her.

"Um, you didn't Apparate because…?" I asked as she walked in.

"Because my wand was in my purse, which was stolen—along with everything else on my body. I also don't have house keys." She said. Oh. "I've been able to leave the hospital for three days now, you know—the doctors convinced me to wait because they were sure you'd come by again and you could drive me home. When the one-week mark came around yesterday, I got the hint and came home myself."

"Yeah, how did you get here if you didn't have a wand?" I asked. She shrugged, her face scrunching in pain at the movement.

"I took a train."

"The station is almost five miles away." I said, staring at her.

"The hospital was nice enough to get me a ticket home, but there wasn't enough money left over for a taxi and Merlin knows no one was coming to help me, so I walked." She said.

"You walked. With a gunshot wound. And a walker." I said skeptically.

"What other choice did I have? Sleep with a taxi driver? Unlike some people, I don't shag people outside the confines of marriage." She said pointedly. Fair enough. "Now, as I've spent the last three hours limping home with a gaping wound in my stomach and the two before that sitting like a sardine with a third-class train ticket, I think I'll go change out of these horrific clothes and go lay down with a book." She started to walk off, pushing the walker in front of her.

"Hey, Eloise?" I asked. She looked over at me. "If we weren't married, what would you be doing?" She raised an eyebrow. "Working? Traveling? What?"

"Working. I had a job offer back in Italy. My parents made me decline on the grounds that I was moving back to England to marry." She said softly. "Now if we're done with this depressing trip down memory lane about what my life could have been, I'm going to put on real clothes." With that, she carefully headed upstairs to change her clothes. Mipsy appeared a moment later.

"Master, Mistress is home!" She said to me excitedly. I thought about Eloise's letter. Did I really treat Mipsy like dirt? No, this was how elves are all treated. She didn't probably even notice—although maybe she did notice as she was much fonder of Eloise than she was of anyone else and there had to be a reason for that. Whatever—she was just looking for anything to complain about.

"I've noticed." I said dryly. "I left the laundry outside her door. Go get it before she trips over it and get started on both of our laundry, won't you?" I added.

"Yes, Master." Mipsy said quietly and vanished with a small pop.

I sat down at dinner that night on my own. With no food on the table. Dinner was always ready at eight. That fucking elf was late. I headed upstairs to see Mipsy just handing a tray of food to Eloise, who was in bed.

"Thank you, Mipsy. It looks wonderful—and thank you so much for doing my laundry. It was very smart of you to ask Sirius to come get it because you couldn't." She gently praised. "While I'm sitting about up here, I might make something else for you to wear—that thing you came here in is a mess." She mused thoughtfully. "How about something purple? It would bring out the green in those pretty eyes. Or would you like another color?"

"I like purple, Mistress." She said, ears flapping.

"Purple it is. Go on, I'm sure you have other things to do." Eloise said with a soft smile. Was she kind to literally everyone but me? Probably. Mipsy bowed quickly and vanished with a pop, not seeing me.

"Looks good." I said, nodding to the food balanced on the tray beside her. Eloise jumped at the intrusion, wincing at the jolt.

"Yeah, she's a great cook. I'm sure you have dinner waiting for you as well." Eloise said, coolly—clearly liking the elf more than she liked me.

"Actually, I don't." She raised an eyebrow. "It appears that you get first priority."

"Well, she has to feed one of us first until I can eat downstairs in a few days and we can eat together." She said with a shrug. "I'm sure there's food waiting for you now if you go back down." She added, taking a bite of the casserole in front of her. I shrugged, ignoring her reasonable explanation. Fuck reason. The woman hated me. "What? You have a look on your face." She asked blandly. "Just spit it out, Sirius—I'd like to eat this before it goes cold."

"Do you remember what you told me the day I came to see you?" I asked, deciding not to tell her that I'd read the letter.

"Not really. I'm assuming it was less than kind, judging by your face."

"You told me you hated me." I said. "And that you hated a lot of other things as well." She sighed, putting her food to the side.

"Did I tell you that I hate myself?" She asked quietly. I shook my head silently. "Well, I do. I don't hate you as a person, Sirius—I resent you because you make me hate myself, it's really nothing personal. You and everything about this life we're supposed to be living makes me hate myself." She said, looking down at her hands. "I hate myself for just going along with this and convincing myself that everything would be okay. Yes, I'm mad that you fucked some girl on our honeymoon and yes, that was really shitty of you to do, but I don't hate you and I see where you came from on a certain level. You thought I'd never know and you wanted sex and you weren't getting it from me—if you'd even want to sleep with me at all. I hate that I allowed myself to be in this situation—I hate myself for allowing all of this much more than I hate you for being a dick to me." She said.

For the first time since we had met, I felt bad for Eloise. For some reason, I had been thinking that she was thrilled to be playing a housewife—that she wanted to have ten kids and be a mom. She clearly didn't want this more than I did.

"The job that you declined." She raised an eyebrow. "What was it?" She blinked in surprise at the question, but answered.

"Fashion. A designer in Milan saw some of my sketches in my notebook while I was waiting to present at an art show in Venice about two months before we got married. He liked what he saw and asked for a portfolio. I gave it to him and he showed his boss, who offered me a job designing for them. I begged my parents to reconsider—to let me go work and do something I loved—but they wouldn't hear a thing about it." She sighed sadly. "What are you planning on doing? I'm assuming you're going to get a job eventually. You're not the one being forced to be a housewife, after all."

"Haven't thought about it, to be honest. Maybe Law Enforcement? I was thinking about going into the Auror program when I was in school, but I don't fancy my parents taking the house away because they don't like my career path."

"You want to be an Auror?" She asked, clearly surprised. "Really?"

"Really. I wasn't a Gryffindor for nothing." She raised an eyebrow.

"Huh." She said.

"What?"

"Wouldn't have guessed is all. Aren't Gryffindors supposed to be chivalrous or something?" She asked. I opened my mouth to tell her that wasn't in the description until I stopped. It actually was.

"Uh, yeah—that was never my strength. I was more of the 'daring and brave' end of the deal. Remus—one of my mates—had the chivalry thing down." I admitted.

"I always thought that I would have liked to have gone to Hufflepuff, but that's just me." She said thoughtfully.

"Hufflepuff's full of the leftovers from the other houses." I said reflexively.

"Well, that's me: the leftovers." She said, returning her attention to her food, clearly trying to put an end to the conversation at that.

"That's not what I meant." I said hastily, realizing that we were actually having a civil conversation and it was tolerable.

"Yes, it is." She said blandly. "That's exactly what you meant. I've been considered the leftovers my entire life, Sirius—it's nothing new." I raised an eyebrow. "Unlike you, I'm not heir to some fancy title or fortune. No one cares about the ladies. We're supposed to sit next to our husbands, look pretty, and talk about fashion amongst each other—only in private though, so we don't interrupt the much more important conversation the men are having."

"You don't want to talk about fashion? I thought you wanted to design." I said, not following. She rolled her eyes.

"Exactly." She muttered. "You should probably go eat dinner—it'll be getting cold downstairs." The dismissal was loud and clear. I hesitated.

"Are you good?" She raised an eyebrow. "At design. Are you good?"

"Good enough to be offered a job. Like everything else I love, it's just a hobby and I was as surprised as everyone else when I got the offer." She said. "Why?"

"It's a shame you didn't take the job." She nodded a little.

"I know it is." She said softly, ending the conversation. I nodded and left her sitting in her bed with her presumably cold casserole.

Five days later, Eloise was off her walker and was back to walking up and downstairs and going about life mostly normal. We had yet to have another conversation longer than three words since the night she had come home.

"I'm going to go out today." She said over an intensely awkward breakfast. I raised an eyebrow, realizing that she was already ready to go out.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"I'm not going to sit about forever. I need a new wand and I need to replace the things I lost—including my handbag, wallet, my favorite shoes, and one of my favorite dresses." She said.

"How'd you lose the dress?"

"The bloodstains won't come out and there's a hole where the bullet went through." She said blandly. "So, I'm probably going to be out for a while. Finding the right wand alone can take hours." She added. "Of course I won't be able to get replacements for everything that was stolen, but I should be able to get most of it."

"What can't you replace?"

"The jewelry I was wearing had sentimental value. I was wearing a bracelet that my brother gave me for my seventeenth birthday—I never take if off, well at least I used to never take it off." She sighed. "Don't worry, he left my wedding band." She added dryly, holding up her left hand. Sure enough, it was still there. "No offense, but I would've him rather take the ring than the bracelet."

"None taken. It's an ugly ring and you don't want to be married anyways." I said, genuinely not offended by that. She looked down at it.

"They really are ugly, aren't they?" She sighed, frowning a bit. "Anyways, I'll be back late tonight." She added and stood up, Mipsy appearing immediately to take her plate. Eloise thanked her profusely for the wonderful breakfast before leaving. I heard the front door open and close a minute later as Mipsy took my plate away.

Not an hour later, an owl knocked on the window. I opened it and took the letter from the bird when he fluttered into the house—or at least I tried to. The bird viciously bit my fingers and hooted at me resentfully.

"She isn't here, so just give me the stupid letter." I snapped at it, only for the bird to bite me again. "Fine. Wait for her all you'd like." I told it.

At about ten that night, I heard the front door open from the sitting room. I was still looking for that motorcycle that I hadn't ever found in the papers.

"Mistress is home." Mipsy informed me, popping into the room to do so.

"I heard." I said. "Help her with her bags, won't you? I'm sure she's still a bit weak from her injury." I added absently before returning to the magazine I had been reading. "Also, let her know that the bird in the kitchen's waiting for her."

"Yes, Master." Mipsy said and vanished with a pop. I heard Mipsy appear in the next room, Padfoot's ears perking up at the sound.

"Mistress, let Mipsy take your bags."

"Are you sure? I really can carry them up, Mipsy."

"I'm sure Mistress. Master asked Mipsy to help you with your bags." There was a silence.

"Oh, well that's nice of both of you. Here you go—be careful this one's a bit heavy." There was a rustling sound of bags being moved around. "Thank you, Mipsy."

"Of course, Mistress. Master also said to tell you that the owl in the kitchen it waiting for you."

"Thank you, Mipsy." There was a pop and the elf presumably left with Eloise's bags, Eloise herself going to remove the letter from the bird. I got up and headed to the kitchen myself to see if the owl hated everyone or just me.

It appeared it just hated me because the bird was hooting gently at Eloise as she removed the letter from its leg, affectionately nipping the woman's fingers before Eloise stroked her wings and opened a window for the owl to leave from. She opened the letter and smiled a bit, a few slips of paper falling from it. They looked like they had come from magazines.

"That bird almost took my finger off." I said, making her jump and hastily hide the papers.

"She doesn't like men much—besides, it wasn't for you." She said, nodding down to the letter.

"Still, normal birds let anyone take the letters."

"It wasn't a normal letter." Eloise said. "There are important things in it." I raised an eyebrow.

"That's…mysterious." She shrugged.

"If I wanted you to know what I write my friends about, I'd let you know." She said, clearly thinking about the less-than-complimentary letter she had written about me.

"Obviously. Well, I'll leave you be with your secret letter. Your friend owes me a drink or something though—her bird almost removed my finger." I added, waving my index finger at her. I swear she almost smiled.

"I'll let Melody know—she'll likely tell you to piss off to next Saturday though." She said. I almost smiled too, but didn't—barely managing to hide it.

"Lovely. Enjoy your letter." I said and left the room.

Lots of action, I know!

See you back in '96!