DISCLAIMER
Buffy the Vampire Slayer belongs to Joss Whedon, and Harry Potter to J.K. Rowling. No money is being made from this story which is purely written for mine, and others, entertainment.

1 January, 1979

Come early morning, Peter slowly made his way up the stairs leading from the store to his and Samantha's apartment. Outside the door, he stopped, with a hand on the handle. This wasn't a confrontation he wanted. Mostly because he wasn't sure what to say: What if she had decided to tell the Aurors or the Order? He would have to kill her then. If Samantha had told them already, there wasn't much he could do, except run, but he doubted it.

She was too weak to do that, he tried to tell himself. Just as much as he'd doubted she'd told, he doubted she would have come around to his way of thinking: Samantha would never join the Dark Lord, and either way, he very much doubted the Dark Lord would accept her in his ranks.

Taking a deep breath, fingering his wand, he opened the door. "Samantha?"

The apartment was dark, curtains drawn, even though it was the middle of the day. Had she taken off somewhere? Turning on the lights, he inhaled sharply as his eyes landed on the bed.

She was laying there, on bloody sheets, still, pale-faced, her wrists slit: A shard from a broken picture frame still resting in her palm. Approaching slowly, Peter held his breath, his heart beating wildly: This, he had not expected. Though, he had to admit, it erased most of his problems. But what a muggle way to go...

Slowly, he picked up an envelope on the bedside table, addressed with Peter.

Peter, the letter began,

I don't know how we got to this point. To be honest, I don't know much of anything, anymore. I used to have so many dreams, about what my life after school would be like. Once I met you, most of them revolved around us.

I thought you were my salvation from my loneliness, from the darkness. Then, tonight, when I realised what you've become, I understood how wrong I was. I suppose war changes people, and I was a fool to think things would stay the same between us.

I'm not going to waste this parchment on telling you how much I hate you. I hate the choices you've made, but I don't hate you. I don't even pity you for being weak, because I am too. Truth is, I don't feel much of anything right now. I feel numb. Heartbroken. Tired.

Your pointed wand at me yesterday proved that you're not above murder. I thought I'd save you the trouble. I'm not going to give you the satisfaction of killing me twice: Like I told you before you left, you already did. And don't pretend I would have lived as long as I kept my mouth shut – it wouldn't be up to you. The Death Eaters would never let me walk around with the knowledge of you being one of them. You might think you suddenly have gained power – but the truth is, you're nothing more than a puppet, a means to an end. Sooner or later, you'll realise that, and remember what you've lost.

This is my second letter. My first has already been sent to a certain James Potter, Auror. I'm sure you can guess what it said. For a whole minute, I was actually seriously considering not telling anyone about you joining You-Know-Who. I'm not sure why – I don't owe you anything, and God knows how much damage you'd have managed to cause if I'd kept silent. In the end, in telling, I'm saving myself from an eternity of guilt in the afterlife, and I'd like to think of it as a way of me saving you from yourself: One last favor, even though you probably don't see it that way.

I suppose, even now, I still want to believe in you. I want to believe that deep down, you're still a good person. I want to believe that the boy I got to know and came to love is still in there, somewhere. You don't have to tell me how foolish that is – believe me, I'm more than aware of it already. But maybe Azkaban will change your mind, make you regret the day you turned away from us all, and come back to your senses.

I hope it does.

Finally, I'm sorry for any pain I unintentionally cause you, if I made you feel as lonely as I once did. But I'm not going to take the blame for you changing sides, if you somehow have been trying to rationalize it by telling yourself that I, or someone else, drove you to do it. It was your choice. I just hope you can live with it.

Samantha

Crumpling up the letter in his hand and throwing it on the floor, Peter made it go up in flames with a swish of his wand. He'd underestimated her. And it was a mistake that could cost him his freedom. With a loud 'crack' he apparated away to Godric's Hollow. Maybe, he prayed, it was not too late to fix the mess Samantha had caused in betraying him.

"Alohomora," Peter whispered at the closed door of Godric's Hollow, then tested the handle again. It didn't budge. Peter swore angrily, hating James' stupid security measures, and hating himself for not being better at unlocking wards. Of course, he'd never expected he would need to do some breaking and entering.

Suddenly, he heard an angry hoot from the corner, along with sounds of a beak hitting glass: Making his way around the corner of the house, Peter stopped in his tracks when he saw the owl perched on the window sill of one of the bedrooms, pecking angrily at the glass. He could have laughed in relief when he saw a letter still in its claws, the envelope covered in Samantha's handwriting.

He hadn't been too late. James hadn't gotten the letter, and since he hadn't heard the owl, he and Lily probably weren't home, and if they were, they clearly had the intention of ignoring the owl and sleeping for a few more hours. The owl had stopped its pecking and was now peering at Peter with a cocked head. Then, deciding Peter was not the one the message was intended for, it resumed its pecking.

With slow movements, as to not startle the bird, Peter drew his wand: He knew he had no chance in Hell of convincing the owl to leave him the letter – post owls were notoriously known for not rescinding letters to anyone other than the intended recipient. "Stupefy!"

The owl, stunned, fell to the ground, and Peter quickly grabbed the letter, not even bothering to read it before destroying it like he'd done with Samantha's suicide note. Then, he eyed the stunned bird warily. It wasn't like the owl would tell anyone what had happened...still, he didn't fancy being pecked to death once he revived it, or it alerting someone to something being wrong somehow: It might be a bird, but it was an intelligent one, and he'd rather not take the risk. "Incendio."

Watching impassively as the owl turned to ash, Peter smiled. Samantha had been stupid to send the letter to James, rather than the Auror Department or Dumbledore himself. In the end, he'd won. With the letter destroyed; no one knew the truth. Samantha was dead, so she couldn't even try to blab again, and he hadn't had to do the deed of killing her – she'd done that for him. He was safe. In the end, like she'd written in her letter, Samantha had done him a favor. Just not the one she'd thought. Satisfied, he spun on his heel, apparating away with another loud 'crack.'

"What a way to spend New Year's day," Buffy said ruefully while hugging Mandy goodbye. "Voldemort sucks," she added with a grin.

The Hogwarts Express was leaving several days earlier than usual, due to an anonymous tip to the Aurors Department about a possible attack on the train planned for the normal departure date: All students had gotten an owl from the school regarding the changed timetable a couple of days after Christmas. When Mandy had gotten hers, she had immediately decided to make the best of the time that was left.

As such, New Years Eve had been spent partying in London with Lily and James, who had both gotten home very late, falling asleep in a drunken stupor (even Lily – James had somehow managed to get her to agree to a drinking contest – Mandy still wasn't sure how). Remus and Buffy had both opted for a calm night in with Jasper at home, and considering Mandy's head was still pounding, she was pretty sure it had been the right idea. She envied Lily's talent in potions – more specifically, her ability to whip up a hangover cure in a matter of two minutes – from the look on the two Potters, it was clear they weren't suffering from any major headaches

"It's really not that big of a deal," Mandy shrugged. "At least, not for me. As for you…" her eyes twinkled as she grinned at Buffy and Remus, "I bet you're just glad to have me out of your hair."

Remus scratched his neck awkwardly. "Uhh…"

"Just kidding," Mandy said brightly, turning to hug Lily goodbye, and then James. "Do you know were Sam and Peter are? I thought they'd be here to wave me off…"

James shrugged. "I figure Wormtail is still with his mother, as for Sam, maybe she's with her brother and father? Lily called her on her fellytone but didn't get an answer."

"It's telephone," Lily rolled her eyes. "How you passed muggle studies is beyond me," she added with a mutter.

From the wink James gave Mandy when the red-head wasn't looking, the Ravenclaw was pretty sure James knew exactly what a telephone was called, and only said otherwise to annoy his wife. From the giggle Buffy barely managed to hold back, it was clear she thought so too.

A 'crack' of an apparition sounded, and Peter appeared on the platform, looking slightly stressed, but happy. "Hi, guys!"

"Peter, what a surprise!" Lily greeted.

"I thought I'd find you here," Peter said with a grin. "I was just over at Godric's Hollow, hoping to wish you both a happy New Year, but when you weren't home, I remembered Mandy is returning to Hogwarts, so I came here."

"Where have you been lately?" James asked. "We've missed having you around."

Peter shrugged. "I spent New Year's at my mother's, and I'm heading back there after I've waved Mandy goodbye." The lie came easy, and after a quick memory charm thanks to Avery, who'd been more than happy to do him a favour when hearing why Peter needed it (Peter was not sure his own attempt at the charm would work), his mother thought he had, in fact, spent all of New Year's and Christmas with her. "She's been feeling lonely lately. Glad to see you're back, Remus," he told the werewolf, who smiled.

"Glad to be back. So where is Samantha?"

Peter shrugged. "Busy with her shop, I guess. I haven't really spoken to her lately." He bit his lip. "We're having some trouble, and I think we're headed towards a break-up."

"No!" Mandy gasped. "Really? But you've always seemed so perfect for each other!" The other Marauders, Lily and Buffy echoed there agreements, and Peter smiled weakly, inwardly clapping himself on the back for his award-worthy performance.

"So did I. But I guess we've just been growing apart. Sam is so busy with her career and I want to focus more on us."

"Well, I suppose that happens," James patted him on the back comfortingly. "But who knows? Everything might work out? Maybe all you need is to sit down and talk to each other?" He gave Mandy a meaningful look, and the Ravenclaw rolled her eyes at the clear hint about Sirius.

"Yeah," Peter said. "Maybe. I'm going back to the flat tomorrow – I'll try to talk her then."

"That's the spirit!" Lily smiled widely. "Some would do well to take a page out of your book." Like her husband, Lily threw Mandy a look, which the brunette ignored, and two seconds later, Remus started in:

"Oh, look - Sirius is over there," he remarked all-too-casually, nodding towards a pillar against which the older Black-brother was leaning. "Aren't you going to say hello, at least?"

Mandy pursed her lips together, not at all happy with her friends' blatant interference. "It's not like he's here to see me off, anyway…"

Buffy sighed. "How long are you going to keep ignoring each other? So you broke up. Big deal. You can still be friends, can't you?"

"Oh, I see Lucan and Belinda waving for me," Mandy remarked hurriedly, quickly changing the subject. Giving her friends one last hug each, she headed off towards the train, her trunk levitating after her. "Bye!"

As she stepped onto the train, Lily, Buffy, Remus and James exchanged rueful looks. "Things were so much simpler at Hogwarts, weren't they?" Peter asked them.

"Oh, yeah," Buffy agreed, watching as the train slowly left the station. "Let's go talk to Sirius, shall we?" But as they turned towards the pillar, Sirius was nowhere to be seen.

After the train took off, Sirius hurriedly left Platform 9 ¾ not particularly keen on a confrontation with his friends. That, and he was worried: Regulus, whom he was there to say goodbye to, hadn't showed up. Had he just missed the train, or was there something worse going on?

He clenched his fists together. If something had happened to Reg…

"Oi, Black!"

Sirius spun around and came face to face with Frank Longbottom. "Frank," he greeted. "What's up?"

"I'm glad I caught you," Frank remarked. "I tried to, after the Order meeting, but you disappeared so quickly."

"Is something wrong?" Sirius asked, frowning.

"Well, it depends," Frank mused. "Have a drink with me, Black," he requested.

"I'm not sure…" Sirius said hesitantly, wanting to try and find Regulus as soon as possible. "I'm in a bit of a hurry, actually…"

"I'm sure you can take the time," Frank said with a raised eyebrow, and Sirius was reminded that Frank was, technically, his superior, even if he wasn't his boss.

"One drink," he agreed, and Frank nodded, gesturing with his head to a muggle bar they just passed.

Once inside, seated with their drinks, Frank put up a privacy bubble around the two. "So, how are you, Sirius?" Frank asked carefully.

Sirius shrugged. "I'm fine." He frowned. "Is this about my work? Because I don't think I've made any mistakes…" He chewed his lower lip worriedly.

"No, your work is flawless," Frank agreed. "But it's not more than that."

"Pardon?"

"There's no spark in you, Sirius, and we've come to expect that, from both you and James," Frank said honestly. "You used to go far beyond what were required of you, but that's changed."

Sirius' shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry…"

"Don't be sorry," Frank said. "Just talk to me. What's wrong? Is being an Auror as well as a member of the Order getting to be too much? You're still very young, and I understand if the pressure – "

" – I can handle the pressure," Sirius said shortly.

Frank nodded slowly. "Alright…Your ex-girlfriend, then," he guessed, and was rewarded by Sirius' flinch. "Mandy Walker, was it?"

"I guess…that's part of it," Sirius admitted quietly.

"Hmm." Frank sipped his drink in silence for a few seconds. "You know, it's more difficult than you think it is. To mix private with profession. Alice and I…when we first got married, we were straight out of school; we both joined the Aurors, and we both joined the Order… As newlyweds, that's not the easiest thing. Maintaining the balance…it's hard."

"How did you manage?" Sirius asked. "You seem like the perfect couple."

Frank chuckled. "Oh, we're not, believe me! We fight like cats and dogs sometimes. We've both come close to dying on several occasions already, and not knowing if the other is going to make it… At times, we just want to give up, wondering if the pain is worth it."

"Is it?" Sirius asked hopelessly.

Frank smiled, swallowing the last of his drink. "Well, that's the million galleon question, isn't it?" He asked. "For some it is, for some it isn't. If you want to know if breaking up with your girlfriend was the right thing to do, I can't answer that." He stood up. "Only you can. But I know, in my case, Alice is what I'm fighting for. She's what's keeps me alive, when things go to Hell. So…for me…yeah, it's worth it. A billion times over. And if I lose her in the end…" He shrugged. "I can't say what I'd do then. Or what I'd feel. But…if it comes to that…at least we would have had now. Something rather than nothing." He patted Sirius shoulder and lifted the privacy bubble. "Think about that."

2 January

Sirius frowned as he felt a shudder pass through him once he stepped up onto the stairs leading to his childhood home. Anxiously, he knocked on the door to Grimmauld place, weighing back and forth on his heels as he waited for the door to open. Why hadn't Regulus been on the train? Had something happened? What if he was lying dead in a ditch somewhere? What if –

The door swung open, revealing Kreacher. "The blood-traitor returns..." the elf muttered. "Staining the doorstep of his forefathers – "

" – Where is Regulus?" Sirius interrupted, easily pushing himself past the house-elf and entering the hallway without waiting for permission. "REGULUS!"

"What is all the yelling about?" His mother's shrill and loud voice said, as the matriarch entered the hall, coming to a stop once she caught sight of Sirius, her eyes narrowing dangerously. "You!"

"Yes, me," Sirius said impatiently. "Hello to you too, mother. Where is Reg?"

"What business is that of yours?" Walburga hissed out, eyes blazing. Sirius couldn't help but note his mother looked exhausted – old and tired. And while her clothing was impeccable, he noted it did not look as expensive as his family's robes used to.

"He's my brother – can't I be worried about him?" Sirius demanded to know.

"It's not like you care," his mother spat.

"I care," Sirius said quietly. "Just tell me where he is, and I'll leave. Why isn't he at school?"

"He is occupied. We have pulled him out of school."

Sirius' heart skipped a beat. "What? Why?"

"Frankly, it is none of your business," Walburga said. "But if you really want to know, it is so he can commit to this family full time. Merlin knows you aren't."

Sirius flinched at the blatant slight. "But pull him out of school? He needs his education! I want to see him!"

"He's away on important business for the family," Walburga said promptly, nostrils flaring. "Now leave! You have made it perfectly clear you want nothing to do with us."

Sirius felt himself grow cold. "You're lying. He's with Voldemort, isn't he?"

SLAP.

Sirius felt his head being knocked sideways once his mother's blow to his face connected with his cheek. "Do not speak of things you don't understand!" Walburga hissed, hand still raised, though something akin to regret showed up in his mother's eyes. "And don't say his name!"

Sirius touched his hand to his reddened cheek were his mother had slapped him. "Touched a nerve, did I?" He said coldly, it wasn't the first time his mother had laid hand on him, but something was different this time: Yes, it had hurt, but still, it hadn't felt like his mother had put any power behind it. It was like she was going through the motions, like she hadn't wanted to hit him, but did it anyway. Like she wasn't truly angry at him, but rather, at someone else...

"You don't like it..." Sirius whispered in realization, noticing how his mother tensed up. "The Dark Lord. You don't like what he's doing."

"The Dark Lord's motives are above reproach," Walburga said, her entire body trembling.

Sirius' eyes narrowed in thought. "His motives, perhaps...but you don't agree with how far Voldemort's willing to go."

"Stop saying his name!" His mother breathed out harshly, eyes wide.

"You've been disillusioned," Sirius continued, ignoring his mother, certain he was on the right track. "And it wasn't your idea to pull Reg out of school, it was Voldemort's!"

"Get out," his mother demanded, pulling out her wand. "Leave, now!"

"And you're letting him! Voldemort's destroying Reg's future, and you know it!"

His mother grabbed him by the shoulders harshly. "Listen to me carefully, Sirius. You do not go against the Dark Lord's wishes and live to tell about it. Leave, and do not return here. Stop interfering in Regulus' life if you know what's good for you."

"You're afraid," Sirius breathed out, eyes widening. "I thought I felt something when I stepped onto the stairs... Father has strengthened the wards, hasn't he?" Sirius felt sick and his stomach lurched unpleasantly. If his parents were afraid...if they, who more than anything, believed in pureblood supremacy, were scared enough to strengthen the wards of their home - to even warn him, Sirius, who they had as good as disowned... How far into the darkness had Voldemort dabbled, that even his parents feared the course he was taking? How deeply had Regulus gotten himself involved?

"You can do nothing for your brother," Walburga said, opening the door and pushing Sirius outside. "Goodbye, Sirius." The door was shut and Sirius felt another shudder pass through him as he felt the heavy magic from the wards fall around the building, cloaking it in layers and more layers of protection.

Slowly, Sirius walked away, eyes glancing back anxiously at the house. 'Reg...what the hell have you gotten yourself into?'

Entering his and Samantha's flat – no, just his now – again, having made sure he was seen arriving, Peter looked at Samantha's body lying on the bed, still in the position it had been two days ago.

He was slightly amazed at himself for holding up as well as he did – none of his friends had suspected a thing, his mother believed him to be a dutiful son to keep her company, and Peter was certain Avery and the other Death Eaters thought he was really cool for removing a potential problem from the equation by Samantha's death (even if he hadn't been the one to kill her) and intercepting the letter.

Shaking his head, Peter sighed: Samantha was pathetic. She'd killed herself because she couldn't deal with the real world. But Peter was strong, would be stronger, even, without her. He wouldn't allow himself to feel guilty over Samantha's weakness. Making his way towards the fireplace, he threw some floo-powder in. "Ministry of Magic, Magical Law Enforcement," he yelled. There was nothing standing in his way anymore.

"Peter," Lily threw her arms around him. "We came as soon as we heard."

Peter smiled weakly, trying to calm his beating heart. The Aurors had just left by portkey, taking Samantha's body with them. "I c-can't believe Sam could just kill h-herself," he said, knowing he had to put on a good act for his friends. They had bought his lies the first time around, but he couldn't allow himself to get complacent: Samantha had, and in trusting the letter would reach James, even when not delivering it in person, her plan had failed. Peter was still a free man, and would remain so if he had anything to say about it.

"She seemed a little down when I saw her last," Buffy remarked quietly. "But…not depressed enough to commit suicide. I don't understand…" She sniffed, gratefully accepting the hug from Remus. No matter how much death she experienced, it never became easier. And this...there was no evil behind this: Just a choice to stop living. There was nothing she could do, nothing she could slay, or fight. She felt so helpless.

"Maybe we're not supposed to," Remus said quietly, embracing Buffy tightly, as he tried to make sense of what had happened. Had something occurred when he was gone, to make Sam feel the need to do this? If he'd been around...would things be different? "Sometimes...things happen. And with the war going on, maybe it all became too much."

"We should have known something was wrong," Peter said, purposefully inserting anger in his tone of voice. "I should have known something was wrong when she just threw herself into her work rather than talk to me. I'm her boyfriend for Merlin's sake!"

"You've been at your mother's," Sirius said. "It's not your fault."

"I should have been here," Peter whispered, lowering his head. "Maybe – "

" - There's no use going over what ifs," Lily sniffed, leaning against James, trying to be objective. "All we can do is make sure it doesn't happen again. Right?" She asked, looking around at her friends, who all nodded. Lily burst into tears. "I can't believe this is happening..." she choked out between tears. There was no logic in this!

Samantha had always seemed so happy. Shy, at first, but during the course of their friendship, Lily felt Sam had really opened up. Nothing about her had said this was something she would ever do to herself. Lily could understand dying for a cause, dying in exchange for someone you loved...but suicide? Had she known Samantha at all? Did she know the rest of her friends? Her husband? Herself? What drove a person to do this?

"What did the Aurors say?" James asked Peter. Maybe Sam hadn't really killed herself. Maybe Death Eaters had, and Voldemort was behind it. That would make it easier to accept than this...a needless, pointless death. Why would anybody choose to die, just like that? No, there had to be something more going on...right?

"Moody said it seemed like a clean suicide." Peter tried to make his voice tremble. "He didn't suspect foul play, anyway."

"I'm so sorry, Pete," Sirius said, hugging Peter close. He too was feeling guilty. If he hadn't been so busy with Regulus lately...if he'd spent more time with his friends...would he have noticed something was wrong?

"Yeah...me too," Peter mumbled.

"Try it," Lucan prompted, holding up a fork with a piece of food on it for Belinda, once again situated at the Ravenclaw table, who wrinkled her nose in revulsion.

"I won't like it," she said. "I tried it once before, and it was disgusting."

"Not with this sauce on," Lucan encouraged. "I promise, it will be good."

Belinda gave him a sceptic look. "Seriously? I'll hate it."

"Please?" Lucan pouted. "I swear, you won't. And if you do...I'll just have to make it up to you," he winked, and someone further down the table made a barfing sound at the utter sweetness. Mandy couldn't help but partially agree, though she knew it was just jealousy rearing its ugly head: At times like these, she missed Sirius so much, she thought with a pang in her heart.

"Fine," Belinda gave in, taking the fork from Lucan, and, after gazing distastefully at the food, put it in her mouth, holding her nose as she chewed, then finally, swallowed.

"Well?" Lucan gave her an eager look. "How was it?"

Belinda licked her lips, cocking her head slightly. "It...was pretty okay. Actually, it was pretty good," she admitted ruefully and Lucan beamed.

"See? I told you so! I knew I could convince you! High five, Mandy!" He prompted, holding his hand up for Mandy, who rolled her eyes in chorus with Belinda, but nonetheless met his palm with her own. Lucan could be such a kid sometimes... Mandy felt another pang, as she remembered Sirius too could be quite childish when the situation called for it...actually, he could be pretty childish when it didn't, too. She supposed it was part of his charm. She sighed.

"Miss Walker," Mandy looked up in confusion as she felt a heavy hand fall upon her shoulder and she came face to face with the Headmaster. Dumbledore looked old, no sign of a twinkly in his blue eyes. She felt her heart drop. Had something happened? "Could you please come with me?"

Every eye in the Great Hall was upon them. "Has something happened?" Mandy asked, trying to keep her voice and legs from trembling as she stood up.

"I'm afraid so," Dumbledore said, bowing his head. The entire student body seemed to be holding its breath.

"Is it Sirius?" Mandy blurted out. They might not be together anymore, but she still cared. Hell, she still loved him. "Lily? James? Buffy? Samantha? Remus? Peter? Are they okay?"

"Mr. Black is fine," Dumbledore soothed, but Mandy noted he hadn't mentioned anything about the others. Suddenly, she felt as though the meal she had just eaten was about to come back up. "Why don't we take this in my office?"

Nodding slowly, Mandy followed the old Headmaster out of the Hall, as if in a trance. As soon as they were gone, the whispers started: After all, everyone knew Mandy had been a friend of the famous marauders, whose escapades were still being talked about, even now, months after their graduation. Had one of them died in the war?

Belinda slowly intertwined her hand with Lucan's, worriedly exchanging looks with her boyfriend. What had happened? "I'm sure it's nothing," Lucan mumbled, trying to assure himself as much as his girlfriend.

"You're right," Belinda said, nodding. "Everything is fine, I'm certain." But her face betrayed her doubt.

January 7

"No parent should have to bury their child," Mr. Lowell said quietly, squeezing his son's – Samantha's little brother, Will – hand tightly. "Now, I've buried two of them."

The Marauders looked at each other helplessly, not quite sure what to say to Samantha's father – he had had a hellish few months, first losing his wife and youngest daughter, now, he'd lost his oldest as well. 'I'm sorry' or any variation thereof wasn't near enough.

Will spoke the question crossing through their minds, voice cracking: "Why did she do it, dad? I want her back. Her, and mum, and Mel, and I wish everything could go back to the way it was before!"

"Me too, kiddo, me too," Mr. Lowell muttered, pulling his son – his only remaining child – into a tight hug. The war was destroying his family. And it was forcing William to grow up far too quickly.

"She's in a better place now," Mandy, who'd been given special permission from the Headmaster and her Head of House to be here, said, knowing her words didn't really make a difference, but she had to say them anyway.

"And what about us?" Will said, pulling away from his dad's embrace, eyes red-rimmed. "What about us? Why did she leave us?"

Yes, Mandy – and everyone else – thought, why had she left them? Never before had the saying 'dying is easy, living is hard' been so true. At least for the people left behind... When Dumbledore had summoned her to his office five days ago, never could Mandy have imagined this was why. She'd been mentally preparing herself for bad news: That one of her friends had been died in battle, somehow. Never, in a hundred years, could she have prepared herself for a suicide. It had never crossed her mind that one of her friends – that Sam – would have voluntarily killed herself. And for what?

Why? Why would she do something like that? Something was nagging at her – Mandy had a feeling there was something more going on here, something they didn't know – but she had no idea what it was, and in any case, even if they figured out the why, it wouldn't change anything. Samantha was gone, buried six feet under.

Without realizing it, her eyes travelled to Sirius' dark form – he looked terrible, pale, with dark circles around his eyes, like he hadn't slept for days. Without knowing why, her feet took her closer, until she was standing right next to him. "Hi," she said quietly.

Sirius smiled, a slightly wry, bitter smile that came out more like a grimace – as though it had been so long since his last smile that he'd forgotten how. "Hi."

"How are you doing?" Mandy found herself asking, immediately wincing. "Never mind. Stupid question. We're at a funeral for one of our friends – it should be sort of obvious neither of us is feeling top-notch..." She trailed off, feeling immensely stupid.

Silence fell between them, and, without knowing why, Mandy leaned a little closer, putting her head on his shoulder. She should be feeling awkward, she realised: After all, she and Sirius had broken up. Therefore, it came as a surprise when Sirius' arm settled around her waist, pulling her even closer. They should be feeling strange about this, Mandy thought, but, as she closed her eyes and buried one of her hands in Sirius' robes, all she could feel was the familiar comfort of his presence next to her.

This was what things should be like. Her, and Sirius, together, and suddenly, all she could think of what how stupid she'd been for breaking up with him. Samantha was gone, and life shouldn't be wasted, and she should have been more understanding, and she wished things were different, and yet, she wanted them to stay the same. To be frozen here, in this moment, because despite the grief, despite the total waste that Samantha's death was, she felt as though it had brought her and Sirius back together.

"I miss you," she whispered, and she wasn't quite sure if it was directed at Sirius, or Samantha, or maybe even both, but as snow began to fall softly, Sirius' arm around her tightened, and he said: "I miss you too." He sighed.

"I know I've been an arse," Sirius raised his head to the skies, revelling in the snowflakes melting against his skin. "And I know I can't possibly make up for that...but I want you back. I want us."

Mandy sniffled. "I want us too. I suppose...you never really know what you have until it's gone."

"Things will be different this time," Sirius vowed. "I promise. I'll make time for you. I'll answer every darn letter you send me, I swear."

Mandy let out a laugh. "You better," she muttered, nudging him with her shoulder.

"I will," Sirius said, grabbing her hand in his, squeezing it tight. "I won't let you go again. Life is too short for fighting." But even as he said that, his eyes travelled to settle on Remus, and he couldn't help but remember Regulus' words: 'The Dark Lord knows everything. There is no way you could spy on him in any way and not be discovered...'

How did Remus do it? Sirius wondered. Was Regulus right, and the Dark Lord knew already? If so…why hadn't he done anything about it? Sirius shuddered, pushing the suspicion about his friend away. Remus was loyal, he told himself. There was no way he was double-crossing them. So why was he doubting?

8 January

"Wormtail," Voldemort smirked coldly, greatly enjoying the sight of the Gryffindor kneeling at his feet. "So glad you could make it. I heard about your girlfriend...a pity. Still, I can't say I'm mourning all that much. She was just another half-blood, after all."

Peter looked up, eyes blazing, and as Voldemort skimmed across his simple mind, he inwardly chuckled at the utter predictability of the man's thoughts. Everything was going according to his plans. "Samantha was weak," Peter spat. "She didn't deserve me or what I could offer her. And I was getting tired of her anyhow," he finished, trying to ignore the small piece of his conscious that screamed at him for being an idiot, that Samantha was the best thing that had ever happened to him. Why was he feeling guilty all of sudden? He hadn't when he told her the truth, he hadn't when he found her body, he hadn't when lying to his friends and the Aurors – why now?

"Well, everything must have worked out perfectly for you then," the Dark said, satisfied.

"Yes," Peter gulped, firmly pushing away his screaming conscience. There was no going back now and he was not going to give Samantha the satisfaction – even in death – of showing any sort of regret.

Samantha was gone. The Dark Lord was right here in front of him, with the answer to everything he could possibly wish for. There would be new Samanthas, better ones, without her hang-ups. He could have – would have – anything and everything he could possibly wish for. All that remained was for him to take it.

"I-I know I asked for a year to make up my mind, my Lord," Peter said. "And I-I know it hasn't been a year yet. B-but I don't need more time. I want in," he raised his jaw in stubbornness. "Completely. I've decided, and I want to take the mark. My Lord, I'm yours...utterly."

Cold, red eyes glinted in amusement. Poor bastard – Pettigrew had been his the moment he, the Dark Lord, first decided he wanted Peter in his ranks. Still – he would let the little Gryffindor have his illusions, that this was his decision – it wasn't like it was doing any harm. "I am most pleased to hear it," he said, thin lips widening. "Stretch out your arm."

Limbs shaking, Peter held out his left arm in front of the Dark Lord, shivering as pale fingers touched his skin, pulling up his sleeve, until; at last, he placed two of them against a spot on his inner forearm. Words in a strange language Peter didn't understand came out from the Dark Lord's mouth in a hiss, until... "Morsmordre!"

Peter screamed. Pain exploded behind his eyelids. His arm was burning, and his body tensed up in utter agony. His eyes rolled back into his head and colours flashed before his irises – for a minute, he thought he would pass out – and then, it was over. Choking, coughing, gasping, Peter bent double, wheezing and clutching his arm, now branded with a mark: The memory of the pain was like the real thing and he couldn't breathe...

"Who is your Lord?" Voldemort hissed out, and Peter looked up, squinting, eyes teary from the pain: The Dark Lord sat on his throne, a great figure, cloaked in shadow and magic, staring regally down at him, at the world, and he was the most beautiful and terrifying thing Peter had ever seen. "You are," Peter breathed out, bowing his head in fear and awe. "You are...Master."

Published: 08/09 -10

Trivia

- Samantha's mother and little-sister, Melanie, were killed during Road of Innocence in an attack over the Christmas holidays, which is what Mr. Lowell refers to at the funeral.