I know the chapter is short, but I wanted to put out an update since I've fallen massively behind. I really liked the idea of doing different perspectives for this chapter. Consider this the in between of chapters 8 and 9 for some of the other characters.

Any tips on puppy teething? My arms will much appreciate the advice, feel free to give.

We're thinking a Thanksgiving wedding, in 2018. Thoughts on the colors Marsala/Burgundy and Navy/Marine?

Azkaban had taken many things from her.

She'd been a beautiful, fiercely intelligent, well-loved mother.

She'd just had a terrible, all-consuming lust for power.

Mudbloods and blood traitors were easy for her to hate; the Dementors had only egged on that fury. Bellatrix had always and would forever be a loyal pureblood to the House of Black, as well as Lestrange. Azkaban wouldn't have taken any of that from her.

But they took the lingering memories of her childhood, when Andromeda would take the time to carefully braid her hair, teaching her younger siblings how best to pin their long tresses up without ending up with a headache. The dementors took the memories of Narcissa falling in love with Lucius, despite being nearly four years younger and taking his spot in the Slytherin common rooms on his very first day of being Prefect.

They'd taken her pride of Sirius standing so righteously for his beliefs and left only resentment for his choices. Similarly, Regulus was merely a reminder that he'd died after defecting from their master, taking his joyous laughter filling Black Manor as he found Father Christmas had visited the night before.

Most importantly, the dementors had taken all the maternal instincts she'd held for her daughter.

Rodolphus and she were older parents to begin with, having tried and tried for years but not having known the lasting effects that taking the Mark had done to her body. It was a complete fluke, by Bellatrix's count, at least.

There were many things that Bellatrix did not regret: the Longbottoms, for they resembled what her lord failed to destroy; Sirius Black, for she always knew that his headstrong nature would be the death of him.

But she did regret leaving her daughter. Oh, how beautiful her daughter was. She was intelligent, too, far more than either parent that she came from, but both were so proud for that very reason. She was kind and brave, independent and loyal, competitive and ambitious, and she treasured knowledge above almost all. Family and friends she cared for most.

It was for those reasons she knew her lord to be lusting for her daughter. She was not a fool, the man lacked the ability to love. He would never give his daughter the security and stability that she needed; only Theodore could.

But Theodore, in turn, couldn't give Hermione what she desired. Power, knowledge, influence to change the world around her. Her daughter longed to be challenged, to be pushed, prodded, forced to reconsider her positions. It was no easy feat to go up against a Black woman, and any daughter of Bellatrix in particular.

Only the dark lord could.

"She can't keep living like this."

Theo turned to glance at Draco, looking away from the log that his eyes had been glued to for the past hour, fire fading as the night stretched into morning.

"It was an eventful break," the other Slytherin responded dully.

Draco peered pensively at the boy. "It doesn't bother you? The hold he has on her?"

All was silent for several minutes.

"No," the brunette finally said, gathering Draco's interest once again. "I never expected her to love me, to want me back. I'd settled myself for a life-time of friendship with her. I love her far too much to be angry with her for falling for someone else."

Draco tried to argue, but Theo grinned halfheartedly. "I know my best friend. She's got feelings for him, that's obvious. I won't say it doesn't suck, but her happiness is more important than me fulfilling a long-running fantasy of the girl I fancy."

"She chose you, though."

"Hermione might've chosen me right now, but that's because I'm what's comfortable. It's easy with me because I'm her best friend. I'd hardly consider myself in the clear. Voldemort, or whatever she calls him, I doubt he's given up. It's not the end, I think."

The blonde frowned, having noticed how well Theo treated his family and had simultaneously become fond of the fellow snake.

"You don't know that. You think you do, but she's not always easy to read."

Theo nodded in agreement, but it was more for Draco's benefit. "She'll choose someone she can't live without. She knows I'll always be there. There's no way Zabini wants to stick around and live a life in the shadows. Hermione's been my everything since second year. Meanwhile, I hardly believe that Voldemort will happily agree to being her friend."

"We're of the same mind on that, mate."

Theo leaned back in his chair, the flame reflecting in his deep brown eyes.

"I just wonder what Harry thinks about it all."

Draco snorted. "You and Potter are mates?"

Theo raised a brow incredulously. "Does it really matter?"

"No need to get all snarky, it's not like I pay attention to your personal lives," the blond turned his nose up snootily. Theo snorted, shaking his head at the antics.

"I thought you two were friendly now, anyway."

"I'm hardly friends with Potter."

"Ah, but hardly is still considered friends."

"Don't even dare, Nott."

"I mean, it's how 'Mione and I became friends."

"I swear, Nott, another word-"

"One might even say we became the bestest of best friends, and we were hardly even friends."

"Now I see why you two are so close. You're both bloody annoying."

Theo snickered at the grumbling boy.

There were several things that he could live without knowing.

What his mother looked like after being shoved down the stairs, for example. Thoros had lied to the Aurors, citing clumsiness and alcoholism as his mother's death. But Theo, never having the courage to say otherwise, kept silent in his knowledge. He'd seen his father hex his mother. He watched as her neck snapped on the seventh step, as her knees buckled into her chest on the twelfth, as her left arm and knee fractured themselves on the twenty-sixth. At the bottom of the stairs, his mother, Elena Nott, stared at the wall blankly, a rapidly growing pool of blood haloing her skull.

Theo hadn't been the same since that night.

He never needed to know about Daphne, his closest friend in Slytherin, losing her virginity to Gregory Goyle, but she'd ranted about every excruciating detail. The blond would always shudder when the oaf of a boy walked by. At least, or so she claimed, the git was too stupid to remember that his plastered bed mate had been the Greengrass eldest.

Theo, despite never wanting to, knew the second when his best mate and love of his life began fancying the dark lord.

It wasn't obvious in that she was doodling his name in her notebook, she'd never be so naive. The man was as his name suggested, a dark, dangerous bloke. She knew there was no future with a man like him, thus her choice with a safe, reliable pick.

Theo didn't mind so much being a second pick.

He did, however, mind the death notes that the bloody dark lord kept sending him.

"Daph, can you quit shrieking for a bloody minute?"

The blue-eyed girl paused mid-rant to slowly turn toward Theo with her brow perked.

"You're a bloody idiot, and I'm simply informing you of your latest moronic status, you fucking prick."

Theo grinned, pushing his hair of out his eyes. He very rarely spoke with Daphne Greengrass during classes, though they'd spent the majority of their first five years when inside the common room right next to each other. They were friendly enough to be considered more than acquaintances, but he'd hardly mentioned her to Hermione more than once or twice. He probably should have felt guilty for leaving her alone the past few months while acclimating Hermione to the green and silver house, but upon voicing this to her she waved him off impatiently.

"Remind me again why I didn't offer for you? You're quite nurturing, after all."

Daphne scrunched her nose. "Ew. I mean, you're a decent looking bloke, I guess, don't get me wrong. But, God, ew. That'd be like marrying Stori. Y'know, if she were a lad."

That was the thing Theo liked best about Daphne, as well as her younger sister Astoria. Neither we're afraid to speak their mind. Having been raised in a firmly neutral family, the girls had been introduced to both wizarding and muggle traditions. Therefore, Daphne spent a fair amount of time forcing Theo into listening to muggle music she'd labelled "punk rock", and hearing about different "religions" as well as a startling amount of Nordic "Gods." Frankly, he didn't see the appeal, but to each their own, he supposed.

"Anyway, quit trying to change the subject! You landed the bird, why are you not celebrating? You've been avoiding her for days! That's bloody horrible for a girl's ego, let alone the girl that's your betrothed. Fucking prick, I tell you!"

He rolled his eyes, sinking back onto the grass with a groan. "I'm not ignoring her, Daphne."

"Well, my apologies for inferring that a bloke literally running from a girl meant that he was avoiding her."

"I hardly ran."

"I've never seen you move so quickly. You could go for the national Olympic team, you know. I'd cheer for you."

Theo frowned. "The what?"

"Ugh, such a pureblood," Daphne sighed with frustration, flicking her nearly waist long hair back.

His eyes narrowed. "You're a pureblood too, idiot."

"Yes," she agreed, waving her hand impatiently. "But I'm a worldly type of pureblood, I'm not limited by our culture. I embrace all kinds."

"Had a bit too much of the special plant, have we?" Theo teased, cocking a brow and watching the girl frown.

"Hardly, you know I'm not seeing that Hufflepuff bloke anymore. Shame on you for forgetting."

"Glad you could break the habit."

"Fuck off."

"Seriously, Daphne. Did you already forget the letter that the Dark Lord sent me?"

Finally, the girl shuddered a bit and drew in a shaky breath. "Yeah. I'll admit that bloke is terrifying. I mean, you hated your father and all, but to give you the gory details about his murder? That's just psychotic, plain and simple."

Theo murmured his agreement, bending his head down to rub his eyes tiredly. It had been nearly a month since the winter hols, and so far he'd received four owls from Voldemort, each more disturbing than the last. Because of this, he had to admit he'd been keeping his distance from Hermione, something she hardly seemed pleased about. But Theo was no Gryffindor and he wasn't brave enough to face the ire of the deadliest wizard since Grindewald.

"Just talk to her. She misses you."

His neck snapped up as he peered suspiciously at her. "How would you know?"

Daphne rolled her eyes, standing up to stretch and gather her belongings. "We share a room, you dolt. She's been your best friend for years, as have I. We've had plenty to talk about."

"I don't know if I like that."

The fair-headed girl winked, swinging her bag onto her shoulder with a grin. "Quit being a twit, talk to her. Goodnight."

It was a rather funny thing, being dead. The constant clean scent of your skin, the slight glow to your complexion, the youthfulness that life had taken became fully restored.

But he was dead, and that fucking sucked.

The moment, the very instant, that he stepped out of the Veil, Sirius knew that it was bad. He knew that it wasn't Harry standing before him any longer.

Because an emerald green, sparkling set of eyes were staring at him, lacking the round frames he had gotten used to seeing. The black hair that stuck up in all sorts of places was replaced with silky, flowing curls of Auburn, a vibrant shade that was darker than the Weasley's, and yet brighter all the same.

Harry also lacked the woman's body that this one so obviously had.

"Pads!" the woman squealed, literally piercing the air with her ecstatic shriek, before pouncing at him, throwing the pair to the floor in her excitement.

"Lils?" he breathed, his mind barely daring to believe it. Even with her cheek on his, he could feel her grin. "Lily? Lily Evans? Evans? Is that you, Lil?"

Lily Potter abruptly pushed herself up, holding her pose in a plank as she hovered over his body. Her red brow flitted up and she snorted. "Out of all the gingers you know, how many would actually call you Padfoot, you dog?"

His smile spread slowly, encompassing his whole face as he carefully reached up to touch her face. "It's really you?" his arms flung themselves around her waist, yanking her back onto his chest, ignoring the sting from where her elbow dug itself down. "Oh, my little spitfire! The rose to my crown! The flame to my-"

"Cold soul, yes I do recall," Lily finished, obviously amused. They seemed to remember themselves and gathered their limbs from the other, pushing off the ground to return to their feet. Sirius stared as he examined his long-dead friend; her green eyes roved his form, obviously doing the same. Then her mouth opened and closed, and Sirius knew the time to recall the happy times would come later.

"Is he happy?"

Green eyes that had long since been desensitized to him watched closely for his reply, as well as all of his tells.

"He seems it. Ginny certainly seems to be helping this year, from what Hermione implies."

Lily smiled broadly, her grin infectious, as it had always been. "I quite like her, she's very brace and loyal. A feminist to boot. Potter men have always held an infatuation with strong, flame-haired women. You remember Dorea, of course, started that tradition."

Sirius chuckled. "How could I forget? She was the first to divert from black hair in the Black family in nearly a century. Mum said her Aunt Dorea could hardly be considered family based on that alone, never mind the fact that she left her own betrothal dinner to proposition Charlus."

The familiar, tender smile was silent as Lily caught sight of his tattoo, poking out of his top. "You're doing alright, then?"

"As well as expected."

Lily sighed in relief, her smile bringing life back into his tired soul. "Good."

He hesitated. "Did you know about Hermione? Bella's kid - she's Harry's best friend."

"We did," she confirmed, bobbing her head. "James in particular keeps an eye on her. It's easier when she's around Harry," Lily breaks off, her voice thick and wrought with tension.

"He's an amazing kid, Lils."

She beams, a beautiful sight. "Like I could ever have a child who was anything but spectacular."

"Always the sarcastic tone, love."

Lily grinned. "When are you going to ask if you can see my husband? I've never known you to be patient, Black."

"I can see him?" Sirius questions, his heart now pounding in his stifled chest.

"Of course you can. All you ever needed to do was ask."

"You won't be offended?"

Lily lifted a thin brow incredulously and Sirius barked a laugh. "Okay, okay. I'm getting rid of you now, woman. All I have to do is concentrate, yeah? Just think of James? That's easy. The blighter was always quick to get under my skin. It should be simple thinking of a way to summon the best man that I've ever known. Fuck. Do you know how I can, Lily?"

She chuckled, pushing a thick strand of red back behind her ear. "I recall you were particularly efficient at interrupting any personal time between the two of us."

Sirius smirked. "Think of Lily Evans naked? Well alright then. Most certainly well within my abilities"

"Don't you dare think of my wife starkers, you fucking git."

Grey eyes snapped open to meet wide, startling hazel eyes.

"Fucking hell, Prongs. Scare a mate more, will you?"

James Potter grined happily, and quite suddenly. "Thanks for looking after Harry, Pads."

"I wasn't exactly there," Sirius confessed, quietly staring at the nonexistent scuff on his shoe. Lily scoffed.

"The length of time hardly matters when considering the quality of the experience."

James snorted. "Okay, Mrs. Fortune Cookie."

Sirius was very quiet as he considered his next words. "I let him end up with the Dursley's."

Both once parents were silent for several agonizing minutes. "Padfoot," James began softly. "Harry would've been placed there regardless."

Lily nodded, peering closely as the Black heir turned his attention to her, looking for acknowledgement. "Familial blood was needed to seal the wards I enacted."

"My Lily-flower practices dark magic," James teased, ruffling his hair in a way that caused Sirius' breath to hitch, not having seen that gesture in nearly fifteen years. Lily watched carefully for the emotions that the dog Animagus was famous for keeping hidden; she nudged her husband in a not-so-subtle gesture. "Oh - er, right. You've probably got some questions about death, yeah?"

Sirius grimaced. "I'm dead, then? It's not a really vivid dream?"

"There's a transition phase," Lily smiled gently, always the nurturer. "It took us a while, but at least we had each other."

"You've got us, mate," James nodded, firm in his statement. "Marauders, thick and thin."

"Brothers always," both men finished, grinning before falling into each other's embrace, eager to forget the last decade and a half.