Sirius Black, though brash and headstrong, is no fool. Every day the world around him grows darker, and he cannot always manage to fully suppress the terror that gnaws at his gut. Loyalty and trust are two things he has always valued highly, and in these times, they are certainly rare commodities. Even now, as he looks around at other members of the Order, he is on edge, unable to shake the feeling that there could be traitors amongst them. Others, he knows, may be under Voldemort's control, performing horrific acts without even realising it. He fears he will drive himself insane with suspicion and stress, and end up like his deranged cousin-a shell of his former self. Terror. Panic. Confusion. This is the Wizarding world. This is the War.

At least he has his friends, he muses. Truthfully, he doesn't know where he'd be without them-James especially. He'd probably be worshipping the same maniac as her, too caught up in a world of power and prejudice to realise he'd signed his soul away. Though he will never admit it-no, not even to James-he sometimes wonders if he should have tried harder to sway Bellatix away from the Dark Arts; sometimes, he imagines her fighting for their side, imagines her wild hair whipping about as she dodges curses...in those instances, they are children again and the world seems full of endless opportunities. Who could have guessed that a Sorting Hat would ultimately define their paths in life?

He knows the time will come when he has to face Bellatrix in battle-whenever he glimpses her slender form he can't seem to move in her direction and engage her in a duel. There's no doubt in his mind that she'll duel to kill, and truthfully, he isn't entirely sure he could kill her. If he could...wouldn't that make them equals? He shudders at the thought. She isn't Bellatrix anymore, she is Bella, the Devil's right hand woman...He refuses to be her equal.


"Patience Bella, the Gryffindor will come," hisses Voldemort.

Bellatrix, he notices with amusement, is behaving like a child about to receive their wand. Bouncing excitedly on her heels she whirls about, a vivid picture of exhilaration and anticipation. Occasionally, red sparks emerge from the end of her wand as she moves-a clear indication of her growing impatience and readiness to duel. He wonders idly if this is how she behaves on every mission, and slightly regrets not having accompanied her before.

"My Lord?" she asks breathlessly, suddenly pausing mid-twirl.

"Yes, Bella?" She really is entertaining in such high spirits, he thinks.

"Am I duelling to kill or to capture?" she asks curiously.

"Perhaps neither, Bella...Often mental assaults are the most effective in weakening resistance...But, it is whichever you prefer, Bella...my accompaniment is merely part of your reward...do with the blood traitors what you wish..." he says languidly.

She frowns then, deep in thought, slowly tapping her wand against her thigh.

"Death is not enough for my traitor of a cousin," he hears her murmur. "He first needs to feel the betrayal he reaped...the pain...no Crucio will break his spirit as effectively as a traitor would...but who..."

Her eyes dart wildly about as she continues her ramblings.

"Regulus wasn't enough...wasn't close enough to push him over the edge...yes, one of those fools should do nicely."

Voldemort can barely suppress a grin at his most faithful's intensity-the moment that Sirius Black turned his back on Bella was a foolish one, indeed.

"If I may, Bella...sometimes the merest hint of betrayal is enough to incite some wizards...have you a name in mind?" he asks maliciously.

Considering his words, she remains silent for a moment, then a truly evil smile lights her face as she nods.

Voldemort watches, slightly transfixed, as she begins spinning around again, tilting her head so that she is looking at the night sky above them. Wild cackles fly from her mouth as she moves.

"Oh Sirius," she sings, gazing at the dog-star above her.

"Are you ready to play, little cousin?"