Chapter eleven:

"What do we do with it?"

The cup was sitting on my coffee table between us, humming quietly.

"I can't believe you took it," Regulus said, running his hands through his hair distractedly. He had done that a lot since I returned home, and his hair was stuck on end.

"It's not like they can arrest me—"

"I mean getting it out of Gringott's!" Regulus said exasperatedly.

"Yeah, that was kind of spur of the moment," I admitted, half-shrugging.

Regulus gave me an incredulous look. "You really just walked out of Gringott's with this cup in your pocket?"

I shrugged. My mind was still numb from the events of today. "Er, yeah, that about sums it up."

Regulus got to his feet and began pacing for the second time. "That doesn't make any sense—how could you have gotten past all their security?"

"Well, Griphook was polite enough to explain that the spells protecting Bella's vault only protects her wealth from outsiders—I am not an outsider, and this cup technically isn't hers."

"So you're trying to tell me that it was merely a loophole?" Regulus asked, almost sounding angry.

I sighed exasperatedly. "Are you mad that I stole it?"

"Of course not! I'm just wondering why you could be so thick-headed as to risk your neck in plain sight of witnesses!"

"It's not like the Ministry is going to arrest me over this," I said, rolling my eyes. "So how do we destroy it?"

Regulus gave the cup a dark look. "I will have to confer with Kreacher, as he destroyed the locket."

"Great—go confer so we can get rid of it," I said irritably, standing up. "This fucking buzzing is driving me nuts."

Regulus picked up the cup and began examining the crest on it.

"It's the Hufflepuff crest," I said tiredly. "Whoever originally owned it probably had their whole family in that house."

Regulus frowned, turning it between his hands. He wasn't listening to me.

"Hello?" I said loudly, kicking his foot. Regulus snapped back to life and quickly set the cup down. He gave me a sharp look. "That's Helga Hufflepuff's goblet, I'm sure of it."

I felt my eyes widen in disbelief. "Are you sure?"

"I'm positive—and I have a feeling the locket Kreacher destroyed belonged to Salazar Slytherin. There's a chance the Dark Lord used all the personal effects of the Founder." He shot the cup a dark look. "After it is destroyed, you will need to replace it with a replica in Bella's vault. Bring some items from our parent's house that are believable, and say you are making a deposit."

I was silent for a moment. We had gotten the goblet by pure luck—the others would not be nearly as easy. "Reg, we're going to need help?"

"Excuse me?"

"Dumbledore," I said pointedly. "We have to tell him."

"No."

I sighed in exasperation. "There is no way we can hunt for the rest of them secretly—especially if we're looking for prized heirlooms of the Founders—"

"We agreed," said Regulus firmly. "As soon as you want to bring Dumbledore into this, I'm gone."

I shook my head. "We can't do this alone."

"It's your choice, brother," said Regulus coolly. "Pick your side."

Regulus left that night to destroy the horcrux with Kreacher and find someone who could make a convincing replica. This meant he would be gone for several weeks, and my job was to pretend everything was normal.

"You can't just disappear after something from Bella's vault goes curiously missing," Regulus had argued. "You need to stay in the public eye right now. I'll find you when I'm done."

I really didn't know what to do with myself after Regulus left.

I knew what I wanted to do.

But I was trying to be sensible. And responsible. Patient. Things everyone had told me my whole life.

My house was empty and quiet once again, a stark contrast to the jumbled mess inside my head. Peter's whereabouts, Voldemort returning to England, horcruxes, Regulus's whereabouts—the list went on. I had all but forgotten about the boring routine I used to have before Regulus turned up.

I tried to go back to my old schedule, but it all felt forced and fake. I cleared out my garden, preparing everything for winter. I forgot all about Newman. Stuck in a restless tension, I began driving my motorcycle all over the country; sometimes on empty roads, other times well into the sky. A few times I think someone caught sight of me, but I doubted whether the Ministry would dare complain to me. They hadn't yet made up for their "embarrassing mistake," and so I figured I was free to do whatever I wanted.

Near early October, while fishing for change at the Apothecary, I found an old magazine clipping stuffed in my wallet. Frowning, I unfolded it and saw an unfamiliar address scribbled there.

"Shit," I said aloud. The old woman ahead of me in line gave me a sour look at my language, but I ignored her. I had completely forgotten about Hestia in the wake of trying to find more information on Voldemort's horcruxes.

I quickly paid for my potions and wrote Hestia a quick letter outside the owlery.

Hestia,

Sorry I'm a prat. Forgot all about your address. Would you be interested in a pint some time?

Sirius

As soon as I sent it I immediately regretted it. Was it rude to admit I had forgotten about her, or should I have just ignored that part?

This was ridiculous.

I headed home and tried not to think about it. I kicked off my shoes and made myself comfortable on my usual spot in the sitting room, pulling a half-read book off the floor. It wasn't enough, so I lit a cigarette too. But then I had smoked four before I even managed to work my way through one page, so I put the book down.

I thought about writing Harry, but what would I say?

What I really needed to do was talk to Dumbledore.

Regulus would be furious, and might not even come back to England, but we were at a dead end. We had to talk to someone who could pull more strings than a dead man and an ex-convict.

I couldn't dwell on it too long or I knew I'd manage to talk myself out of it. Instead, I grabbed my shoes and apparated just outside the Hogwarts grounds.

The corridors were empty, and I figured everyone must still be in class. I made my way up the flights of stairs two at a time, taking every shortcut I knew of until I reached the gargoyle.

"Fuck," I said, sighing. I had no idea what the password was. "Lemon drop. Chocolate frog. Fizzing Whizbee. Er, licorice wand. Sugar quill. Oh, just fucking open," I added in annoyance. "Acid pops? Canary cream, fudge flies—"

The gargoyle suddenly came to life, stepping aside.

"Fudge flies? Really?" I muttered to myself as I ascended the stairs. I knocked sharply on his office door, which opened of its own accord.

"Sirius, this is certainly a pleasant surprise." Dumbledore was standing on the far side of his office, no doubt interrupted in his usual pacing. He studied my face for a moment. "And yet your expression seems to indicate otherwise. Is everything all right?"

I opened my mouth to speak, but I didn't know where to begin. How do I explain everything without giving Regulus away?

How did I keep ending up in situations where I'm begging Dumbledore for help?

"Have a seat," Dumbledore offered, doing the same behind his desk. He peered at me over his half-moon glasses, studying me.

"I don't know where to start," I said slowly, rubbing a hand over my eyes.

"What better place, than at the beginning?" Dumbledore replied.

I let my hand drop. "Voldemort's alive," I said bluntly. I waited for Dumbledore to react, but he didn't so much as blink. "Somehow I get the impression you already knew that," I added slowly, frowning.

"It was always my suspicion that Lord Voldemort was never gone for good," Dumbledore allowed.

"I know why he's still alive, too," I continued hollowly. "Horcruxes. I don't know how many he has, but I know they're out there. Voldemort hid parts of his soul before he went after Harry, and now he can't be destroyed until all the horcruxes are gone."

Dumbledore looked surprised by this, but it was fleeting. He was skilled at controlling his features, but I had spent half my schooldays in this office trying to decipher if I was in any real trouble or not. "How do you know this?"

"My brother died trying to destroy one of them," I said, deliberately not including the detail that Regulus had survived. "It was a locket. Regulus figured out Voldemort's secret, and sacrificed himself in hopes of making Voldemort mortal."

"You're absolutely certain?" The blue eyes were piercing, and I had an eerie feeling of being on trial again.

"Kreacher told me," I offered dully. It was mostly true. "He can't lie to me."

Dumbledore sighed, sitting back in his chair. He suddenly looked much older. "I have suspected Lord Voldemort of finding ways to preserve his immortality—you will remember the time in which he possessed a Hogwarts teacher and attempted to steal Flamel's Stone." Dumbledore sighed heavily, suddenly looking much older. Then he said, "You will, of course, remember two years ago when Harry and his friend entered the Chamber of Secrets."

I frowned. "What about it?"

"The diary Riddle was preserved in—the diary Harry destroyed—I am certain was a horcrux."

"So you knew about this?" I asked heatedly, angry.

"I suspected it. I had no evidence," said Dumbledore diplomatically.

"And you didn't say anything? You were just going to let them continue to exist?"

"I did not know there were others—your story confirms there were at least two—"

"Three."

Dumbledore looked at me strangely.

"Helga Hufflepuff's cup was one," I said. "It was in my cousin Bellatrix Lestrange's vault at Gringott's. Since I inherited her wealth, I inherited the horcrux as well—"

"Has it been destroyed?" Dumbledore asked, uncharacteristically rough.

I sighed. "Not yet."

Dumbledore gave me a look I couldn't read, but I didn't have the patience to figure it out. "And I'm certain the locket—the one my brother destroyed—was Slytherin's. So there's a good chance that there's one for each House." I got to my feet, too restless to sit still. "We have to find the others."

Dumbledore gave me a surprised look.

"I'm not going to wait until Voldemort gets stronger to start fighting back," I said, voice rising. "As long as there are Horcruxes out there, Voldemort's going to come back eventually—"

"Sirius, you are talking about the Darkest of magic—finding and destroying a horcrux—especially one of Lord Voldemort's—is not an easy task. It claimed your brother's life."

"So?" I said stubbornly. "Look, I don't care if it puts myself in danger, as long as Harry is safe. Would you really rather wait until Voldemort comes back to start looking? Because by then it will be too late—"

"Do you know what you will be looking for? Or where Voldemort's most secret hiding places will be?"

I wanted to rip out my hair. I had to force my hands straight to keep myself from balling them into fists, which would make it too tempting to hit Dumbledore. "I have no idea where to look—that's why I came to you."

There was a long silence. Finally, Dumbledore spoke. "Where was the locket?"

"In some cave," I said flatly. It didn't mean anything to me, but for some reason that seemed to peak Dumbledore's interest. "What?"

"Of course," said Dumbledore pensively, more for his benefit than for mine, I'm sure. "He would have hidden them in a place with special meaning to him."

"A cave is special to Voldemort?" I said, not following.

"Lord Voldemort would not have trusted his most precious possessions to just any hiding spot—each one will have some significance. The cave, for example, is a place he would have frequented as a boy. I remember learning of him luring other children down there and terrifying them while he was living in an orphanage." Dumbledore thought for a moment, then said gravely, "But you cannot just go looking for them—you will attract attention—"

I rolled my eyes. "Can you just be blunt with me for a moment? I'm going after these horcruxes no matter what. If you can tell me how many there might be, or where I should look, that would be great. But there's nothing you can say that will stop me."

Dumbledore stared at me so intently it looked as though he was trying to read my mind. But I had no remaining patience for this, and just stared back."

"I will help you," said Dumbledore cautiously, finally breaking eye contact. "But all I ask in return is that you be patient—we are going to need more help than just ourselves."

I raised an eyebrow. "Are you talking about the Order?"

"You will need to contact them secretly," said Dumbledore quietly, as though someone might be listening. "And not before I tell you to. I have a few more names we can contact as well. I understand you want to get out there immediately and start scouring the earth, but we have to be unnoticed. The moment Voldemort catches wind of what is going on, he will move them."

I didn't reply. I knew Dumbledore was right, but he was also overly cautious sometimes. Secrecy was important, but time was vital.

"What about Harry?"

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow.

"I'm going to assume you don't want me to tell him anything?" I said, already prepared to ignore those instructions.

"I know I cannot stop you if you decide to," said Dumbledore. "But I will impress upon you that it may do more harm than good."

I sighed. "So when do you want me to start contacting people?"

"I will send you an owl in a few days' time—though I suspect you may want to tell Remus—"

"He already knows about the horcruxes," I said, running a hand through my hair.

"Then you may want to update him on our situation," Dumbledore allowed. He didn't look surprised that I had already told Remus about this.

I checked my watch and saw that it was a quarter to four. Remus would likely still be in class. I stood up and Dumbledore followed suit.

"From here on out, you must be very careful, Sirius. Every movement will have to be carefully orchestrated if we are to keep our advantage."

That annoyed me. He was talking to me like I was a blundering child. It was because of me that Dumbledore even had confirmation of other horcruxes, and now he was going to tell me not to mess it up? I was too irritated to reply, and shut his door roughly behind me.

The Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom wasn't far from Dumbledore's office, and it only took a minute or two to reach it. The door was cracked a few inches, so I decided to wait in the corridor and listen while Remus finished his lecture, apparently on defensive spells. To fill the time, I tried to guess which year Remus was teaching to, and figured it was fifth. At half past four, a bell finally rang, and I heard students from all the surrounding classrooms scrambling to collect their bags.

"Remember to bring in your essays tomorrow!" I heard Remus shout over the noise.

The classroom door suddenly opened, and I turned to see a stunned group of teenaged girls stopped dead in the doorway. Several seconds passed.

"Don't mind me," I said, trying to break the awkward silence. "Just waiting on your professor."

Finally the students in the back started shoving their way forward, removing the few blocking the doorway. The students spilled out, staring at me as they passed. I tried to ignore it, deliberately looking at nothing in particular while I waited for the classroom to clear. Finally, when the line thinned out, I stepped inside the safety of Remus's classroom.

"Did someone give you detention with me?" Remus asked, looking at me over his shoulder.

"Yeah, you gonna make me do lines? 'Professor Lupin is a git.'"

"Nice hair. Let's talk in my office," said Remus, beckoning the way. We ascended the half-spiral staircase and Remus shut the door behind us.

"So, er, is Regulus still there?" he asked quietly.

"No, he left," I said dully. "But I do have more news. I cracked and told Dumbledore—he wants to reassemble the Order. And we found another horcrux."

Remus looked surprised—about which part, I couldn't tell.

"Yeah, so Dumbledore's going to let me know when to round everyone up again—I just have to wait quietly," I added bitterly.

"Where was this other horcrux."

"Bella's Gringott's vault," I said.

Remus looked at me with wide eyes. "How did you break in?" he asked in disbelief.

"I didn't—I inherited all of the Black family money, which includes her vault. On a whim Regulus and I decided we should check it out, and the horcrux happened to be sitting there."

"What was it?"

"Helga Hufflepuff's goblet—"

"You're kidding!"

I shrugged. "Reg thinks the locket belonged to Salazar Slytherin. So we're looking for heirlooms of the other two founders. And Dumbledore just decided to inform me that the diary Harry dealt with two years ago was a horcrux—didn't see a need to let me know before now."

Remus was frowning at me. "That's not right," he finally said.

I snorted. "You're telling me."

"No, I mean it—if he had any indication that Voldemort lived on, he should have told you. That puts Harry in danger."

My anger was starting to swell up in my chest again. I tried to force it down, but the whole situation was frustrating. I wanted to scream. "Dumbledore seems to think I would handle everything irresponsibly. Since I fucked up and killed my friends, what's to stop me from screwing up that badly again?" I said waspishly.

"Does Harry know?"

I shook my head. "No, he doesn't know anything. Yet," I added as an afterthought.

Remus prepared some tea and gestured that we should sit on the threadbare sofa in the corner. "It may not be such a bad idea to tell him," he finally said, to my surprise.

"Really?" I said skeptically. "You agree with me?"

Remus shrugged. "Harry's going to find out sooner or later—I'm sure he'd rather hear it from you. I don't necessarily think I would tell him everything. But the important stuff, yes. I think so."

I sighed, resting my head on the back of the old sofa. I was never good at being patient. In our school days, we all balanced each other out. I egged everyone on, Remus was responsible, and James had always fallen somewhere in the middle. "I wish James and Lily were here."

"Me too," Remus replied quietly. "Me too."

I thought of the old members of the Order. Most of us were dead by now. "I need to make a mental list. Who am I contacting?"

Remus thought for a moment. "Mad-Eye, of course—"

"You don't think he's gotten a bit…paranoid?" I asked hesitantly.

Remus shrugged. "I don't doubt that he has, but Dumbledore will want him regardless. There's Dedalus Diggle, Elphias Dodge, Emmeline Vance…Dung," Remus added pointedly. He frowned. Like me, he had a hard time recalling who had survived the first time. "I'm sure Dumbledore will speak to certain members of the staff here at Hogwarts."

"So four people, really."

Remus looked at me.

"That's all we have?" I pressed.

"Well, can you think of anyone else we might consider contacting?" Remus asked, scratching the back of his neck.

"The Weasleys might be worth a shot," I said slowly. "And…I dunno, maybe that Auror Kingsley? He helped a lot during the trial, and Dumbledore seemed to trust him. Oh, there's Sturgis Podmore. Right?" I added hesitantly at the look on Remus' face.

"I haven't seen or heard of him since the war ended," said Remus. "But why not? Add him to your list."

Relieved that Podmore hadn't died unbeknownst to me while I was in prison, I continued, "Who else? There has to be more people we know."

"I think this is a decent starting point," said Remus, almost placating. "I'm sure as we induct new members, they will have contacts of their own. What about Regulus?"

"Regulus is going to be furious when he finds out the Order is reassembling," I said quickly. "He wants nothing to do with it. He's gone right now—he's destroying the horcrux and finding a replica to replace it with."

Remus gave me an uncomfortable look.

"Stop it," I snapped. "Don't look at me like that—I know what you're thinking, but I trust my brother. He's not trying to resurrect Voldemort."

"Then why didn't you go with him?" Remus asked, frowning.

I sighed. "Regulus and I agreed it would look less suspicious if I didn't disappear from the country for a bit just yet. My face is still in those sodding tabloids every week—I have no doubt the goblins know I took the cup from Bella's vault, but they can't technically do anything about it."

"Okay," said Remus placatingly. "Okay, I believe you."

I suddenly felt like there was a huge weight on my shoulders. I felt old and tired. "How am I going to tell Harry?"

Remus was quiet for a moment, sipping his tea. "Tell him in person. Wait until Christmas break, when he comes home with you. That way the Order will be reassembled, we'll have a clearer idea of what we're doing. I have no doubt Harry will have questions, and we'll hopefully have more answers then."

I sighed, sinking lower into the sofa. "Do I suck at this?"

Remus looked over at me. "Suck at what?"

I gestured at nothing in particular, or maybe at everything. "I dunno—all of it. Being Harry's guardian. Being an adult."

"Quite the opposide, I'd say," said Remus. "But I don't want to stroke your ego."

I smacked him. "Sod off."

Remus smiled, a hint of mischief in it. "You're doing just fine, Sirius."

I checked my watch again, taking another sip from my pint. It was twenty past seven and Hestia still hadn't showed up. Maybe she was ditching me. I ran my hands through my hair distractedly, trying not to think of that. I couldn't shake the feeling that everyone in the pub knew I was being stood up, and they were all staring at me.

"Sorry I'm late," she said a little breathlessly, suddenly sliding into the seat across from me. "Someone came in at the last second with the worst case of Spattergroit I've ever seen—pus everywhere."

"That sounds disgusting," I said, inwardly relieved.

"Oh, it was—I had to burn my uniform. Now that the image is in your brain, what're we having?" she asked, looking at the fare in front of me.

"London's finest," I said, pointing to my pint. "And some chips for dinner."

"I distinctly remember telling you to eat real food," she said, smirking.

"This is food."

"It's pub food."

"Can I get you a drink?"

"Er—yeah, whatever you're having."

I finished the rest of my pint in one gulp, and stood up to get more. I felt fuzzy upon standing; whether from relief or the alcohol, I couldn't tell.

Hestia was working her way through the chips basket when I returned with our drinks.

"So will Harry be coming over for Christmas break?"

"He better. I'm bored out of my mind in that house." This, of course, wasn't one-hundred percent true—but I couldn't deny that I needed a pleasant distraction.

Hestia smiled at that. "So what do you like to do in your spare time?"

I thought about it and let out a humorless chuckle. "I'm afraid you'll find me rather boring."

"I doubt that—you manage to make it into gossip magazines at least twice a month."

"Er, well, I've still got my garden," I said, inwardly cringing at how lame I sounded. "And I ride a motorbike if I get the itch to be reckless."

Hestia's brows knitted together. "A motorbike? What, like the muggle thing?"

"Exactly like the muggle thing," I said, taking a sip of my pint. "Except that it flies," I added in an undertone.

Hestia's face broke into a wide smile. "Can we ride it?"

"Now?"

"Well, not now," she said, pointing to my pint. "You might be a lightweight for all I know. Next time."

"Sure," I said, suddenly fuzzy in the head, and not from the beer.

"If you could do one thing for the rest of your life, what would it be?" she prodded.

I had to think about that one. I bit my lower lip as I contemplated. Since Azkaban it's felt as if my life wasn't my own. "I think I'd like to travel," I finally said. "And I know that's such a boring answer. But after being locked away for so long I'd like to see what else is out there."

"What's one thing you want to do before you die?"

I immediately thought of Harry, but I knew ensuring the destruction of Voldemort wasn't quite what she was referring to. I tried to think back to what I used to be like, before Azkaban, and chuckled at a distant memory. "Well, there's one thing I've always wanted to try—er, it's called cliff diving."

She raised an eyebrow. "Is that what it sounds like it is?"

"You're going to think I have a death wish—it's a popular muggle activity I learned about when I was in school. You jump off a cliff into a lake or the ocean. The higher up, the better."

"And I'm assuming there's obviously no magic involved to slow your fall," she said slowly.

I grinned, running a hand over my chin and shaking my head. "No."

"All right," she said, a contemplative look on her face. "I can sort of see a reckless appeal in that. It's funny, because I wouldn't have pegged you for extreme sports."

"Yeah, well, I got old and boring," I replied.

"Who says that means you can't still do these things?" she said. "You want to travel, end your life by jumping off a cliff, you have a flying motorcycle—how come you don't do them?"

I shrugged, hesitating. "I guess I don't have a good answer."

She took a long sip of her pint. "Well, if there's no good reason not to, then go for it. I will join you for the flying motorcycle part, but I draw the line at jumping into anything greater than my bathtub."

"All right, now it's my turn," I said. "You have the advantage of reading all about me, but I don't know much of anything about you. What would you do forever if you could?"

"Healing people," she said automatically. "It's the only thing I've found where I don't feel like a hypocrite."

I frowned at that. "What do you mean?"

She gave a sort of half-shrug. "It's impossible to twist healing and turn it into something ugly. It's purifying. I figure if I'm going to spend my life on an earth where there's so much suffering, then I want to be on the good side. Besides," she added, a small smile playing around her pink lips. "When you break all your bones I can put them back together."

It was like an electric current went through me. My heart suddenly raced to fill my veins with adrenaline and the hair stood up on the back of my neck. "And the one thing you want to do before you die?"

She thought about it a moment. "That's too hard for me."

"Why?"

"I want to do everything. I was never very good at sitting still."

"So how do you decide what you're going to do?" I asked, picking out the crumbs from the empty chips basket.

"I just pick it on impulse—whatever sounds the best in the moment," she said, gently turning her pint glass in her hands.

"So what's the thing you've wanted to do most recently?

"I have one in mind, but I'm saving it for later," she said cryptically. "But I guess I'll say…I want to ride an elephant. I saw it in a muggle book, once. You can go to Thailand and do it. But since I can't afford a vacation right now, a flying motorcycle will have to do."

I smiled at that.

After we finished our drinks and a second basket of chips, Hestia came home with me. We didn't actually plan it out—she didn't ask, and I didn't offer. She just came with me as if it was the most natural thing to do, and we ended up in my kitchen, where Hestia insisted on cooking a real dinner. We spent the night in my sloppy drawing room, swapping stories. Hestia seemed especially interested in the pranks James and I often pulled while at school.

By six in the morning we were starting to nod off. I was just about to offer Hestia the spare bedroom when a thought suddenly occurred to me.

"Hey—wake up!" I said in a stage whisper. Hestia's eyes snapped open and she looked up at me sleepily. "Do you want to go for a ride?"

I gave Hestia the warmest coat I had, and she waited at the edge of my drive while I warmed up the motorbike. The night sky was fading into a pale blue, and in the distance there was a brilliant speck of orange as the sun began to rise. I pulled the bike around and tossed her the helmet. She climbed onto the bike behind me eagerly, wrapping her arms tightly around my waist.

I sped off down the drive and turned onto the muggle road. The air was cold and biting against my exposed face, but it was refreshing. Suddenly awake and full of adrenaline, I took the bike up into the air. Hestia gripped me tighter, laughing.

I flew the bike toward the coastline, just below the cloud line. On one side the clouds were a brilliant orange, and on the other still a dark, smoky purple. The cold morning air bit at our faces, and I could feel Hestia's dark hair whipping around in the wind. We reached the beach just after sunrise. I parked the bike carefully, and Hestia pulled off her helmet before disembarking. Her face was flooded with soft morning light and her hair—like mine—was a wild mess.

I felt like I could look at her forever.

Hestia smiled at me, trying to finger-comb her locks. "Want to go down to the water?"

I cut the ignition and followed her. Birds cawed in the distance, searching the low tide for food. The sky was a soft pink now, and our breath glowed in the cold morning air. The beach was empty of other people so early in the morning. Hestia and I walked along the shoreline for about a mile, occasionally picking out intricate shells along the way. Once or twice I picked out a rubbery tuber and chased her with it, where she quickly responded by throwing fistfuls of wet sand at me.

When the sun was fully risen and Hestia and I began yawning again, I decided to drive us back home.

I fully expected Hestia to say she needed to go home to sleep, but instead she asked where the shower was. I handed her some clean towels through the cracked bathroom door, but Hestia pulled it open all the way, revealing all of her pale white skin. Her dark eyes flashed at me, inviting me in.

My heart stopped.