Sirius stood staring at her in abject shock and confusion.
"Ari' you always told me you never knew you your mother, or your father for that matter so how would you..."
"The curse is the reason I never knew my parents!" She cut over him angrily as she yanked herself free from his weakened grip. The second she was free her hands clutched at the flesh of her upper arms so hard it seemed as though she would draw blood but she either didn't notice or merely did not care; her violet eyes were wide and full of anger mixed with a bone deep agony, the kind you would only ever see in those who had experienced true horrors in their lifetime. Horrors that could not ever be expressed into words as to even try was to diminish the pain, to lessen the full scope of their suffering. "Since time immemorial everyone, every single solitary soul, anyone of my blood has ever loved has ended up dead. Some by the hands of their enemies, some by the hands of their friends and some, like my mother, fell by the hands of the one that professed to love them. My father went mad and killed the one woman in the world who loved him then spent the next ten years systematically destroying his only daughter for his own amusement. In his madness he...he beat...me, he...abused...me, he started me on the path to what I am today. I can't face the thought that I might...that one day...that I might kill..." She choked at the last word, her violet eyes sparkling with manic grief as she stared unseeingly at the wall behind Sirius' head.
Sirius himself stood stock still in shock. His grey eyes were trained on the face of the woman he loved as her expression froze into a haunted mask he knew all too well from his time in Azkaban; it was the expression worn by those who had given themselves over to the misery, too haunted by the memories the Dementors evoked to even bother fighting and it truly terrified him to see it on Arielle, his lioness', face. Then as he slowly processed what she had just told him he began, bit by bit, to understand; the Black family was cursed with a need for power, whether that was political, financial or magical it didn't matter. The members of the Black family craved it, it was one of the reasons he had been drawn to Arielle like a moth to a flame so he understood curses. It had driven many of his family mad, though some said that madness ran in the Black blood itself but it was not so. Sirius put himself in her shoes, put himself in the position where he would one day either have to watch her die because of him or at his hands and he understood. The thought alone was enough to make him want to tear out his own heart so he could just stop feeling, so he didn't have to live with the thought any longer.
He reached out a shaking hand to pull her to him, to try and offer her what comfort he could, but she shied away from his touch, eyes still gazing unseeing into the distance, haunted by the ghosts of her past and thoughts of what could be her future.
"Sirius what he did to her, what he did to me...I can't bear the thought that I might that do that to you or, Gods forbid, Harry. You two mean the world to me. I'd rather slit my own throat and pour my life blood into the dirt than risk hurting you two, do you understand Sirius?" Here at last she focussed upon him, anguished eyes of listless lavender bore deep into his own, begging him to grasp what she was trying to tell him. "I would rather die than hurt either of you. If it comes to it, if the day comes that the curse takes me, then I will kill myself before I ever get the chance to harm either one of you."
His world stopped. His breath caught in his lungs. No. Godric no. She couldn't mean it, she couldn't. The thought of her, her killing herself, her dead. He recoiled from it like a hand from the white hot heart of the fire, it physically hurt to think of. No. Without thinking he had closed the gap between them and gripped her upper arms in a vice like hold and shook her till she looked him in the eye; she looked shocked, almost alarmed, as his grip tightened to hold her in place before him. Rage bubbled in his steel grey eyes.
"What is wrong with you Arielle? Do you not understand that you dying would kill me? You are my world Ari', without you life isn't worth living; when I thought you were dead the only thing, the single solitary thing, that stopped me from killing myself was making sure Harry was safe. I can't face living in a world without you Arielle so don't you dare make me." Sirius' growled in a tone so reminiscent of his Animagus form she half expected to see his huge Grim like form instead of the emaciated escapee whose long, thin fingers gripped her arms with almost bruising force. Tears leaked out of her bloodshot eyes and trickled down her cheeks as she shook her head, whether in disagreement or disbelief he couldn't tell. Growling low in his throat the last of the Blacks released her arms and crushed his only love against his chest, pulling her in tight as if afraid if he let her go for even a second she might disappear. Pressing his stubbled cheek into her glossy hair he began whispering into it; words of love and comfort, pleas to listen to him, to not leave him alone again. It wasn't till he uttered one sentence and one simple, stupefying question that her eyes cleared to their normal violet vibrancy and a small, watery smile at last curled upon her lips.
"If we die we die together Ari', you and me till the end. Isn't that what we always promised?"
They spent the rest of the night talking in the spacious salon of her apartments. Eventually they had migrated to a large plush sofa where when dawns first rosy rays first peaked in through the high windows they were to be found tangled in one another's embrace. Bone tired but at peace with one another they reluctantly separated to ready themselves for the day ahead; Arielle disappeared off to procure clothes for her lover while Sirius reacquainted himself with the delightful bathroom that resided within her apartment of rooms. After lounging in the tub so reminiscent of the one that resided within the Prefects bathroom back in Hogwarts, though it was rather a lot larger, for almost an hour Sirius finally dragged himself out of the hot steamy depths. After wrapping a fluffy towel of the palest blue imaginable tightly around his waist he emerged from the room to find a small pile of neatly folded clothes of the finest quality waiting for him. Smiling to himself he picked them up finding a pair of fitted dress pants in a cream and a dark blue button up cotton shirt with socks, underwear and pair of brown leather shoes. It did not surprise him that everything fit perfectly, it was comparatively mundane on the scale of surprises he'd had lately and when it came to his lady-love, well, she was one big surprise.
When Sirius eventually found his way to the breakfast room (he refused to admit he had had to summon a house elf twice to give him directions) he found Arielle stood arranging a bouquet of freshly cut flowers into a large crystal vase; her long hair was unbound, falling in gentle waves down over the back of her ankle length moss green dress. She looked tired but content, a small secretive smile playing upon her lips as she slid another bloom in amongst the rest; Arielle took great pride in her flowers, delighting in the arrangement of the blooms and the meaning behind different combinations. Lily, James, Remus and Sirius had all learned early on in their friendship with her that every flower she presented anyone with meant something and while James and Sirius, being pure-bloods, had to learn a little of the language of flowers Remus and Lily knew very little if anything. Comparatively Arielle was fluent and could compose whole sonnets with a single bouquet if she so desired.
"So what does this arrangement mean?" He asked curiously from the doorway. Without looking away from her task she gave the smile she reserved only for him and continued threading in more flowers.
"Casablanca Lily's to symbolise a happy occasion, Mayflower to symbolise welcome and a new beginning, Myrtle for joy, love and remembrance and lastly Syringa..." She trailed off at the last fingering a sprig of the purple blooms, a terribly sad smile stealing upon where once resided one of happiness and love. "And Syringa meaning you shall be happy yet. They're for Harry, though he may not know what they mean I want them here even if it's just as a way to show I care and that things will get better." As she slid the sprig she had been holding into the vase she stepped back and gave him and almost rueful smile before dusting off her hands and clearing her expression.
"Now, what do growing boys like for breakfast?"