A/N: Alright, here's Bonus One for the week! May there be many more!

-C

Dreams unwind. Love's a state of mind. – Rhiannon, Fleetwood Mac (Stevie Nicks)

Cara had not confessed – not to her husband, not to Lily, not to anyone – the way the whole affair was putting her on edge. Sirius needed to her to be strong, but when he wasn't around, when she was alone in their house, she could feel the anxieties of how her granddaughter was doing, how Catherine was doing, building in her chest.

The melancholy was already building as she unlocked the house, coming home from Prewett Manor, but it was chased away when she heard the clinking of teacups of saucers. Sirius?

She called out, and he said to come to the sitting room, so she did, pulling off her scarf as she went, starting at the sight of someone she hadn't seen in years now – not since Catherine and Harry nearly fell apart.

"Mr. Barker," she said, her voice full of the breathless exhilaration of being caught unawares. "How do you do? I wasn't aware we were entertaining company."

Mr. Barker kissed her hand as Sirius explained they were discussing a few matters for their joint career choice – the History of Magic. This made Cara uneasy, although she couldn't fathom why.

"Are you staying for dinner?" Cara asked, but Mr. Barker declined, claiming a multitude of things requiring his attention, although she wasn't sure why she didn't quite believe him. As it was, she didn't really want him to stay, so she did not try to come up with reasons for him not to go. When he left the cottage, she fixed her husband with a stare, but he was clearing the teacups, asking what she wanted for dinner. He offered up pasta, but Cara closed her eyes, frustrated.

"What was that man doing here?"

"Darling, I told you," Sirius said, although he was a bit irritated. "We were talking about our field. He is one of the premier historians alive today."

"Yes," Cara said calmly, opening her eyes. "Between his guile and your machinations, he certainly is. Don't patronize me, Sirius. What is going on?"

"Cat," Sirius said, sitting beside her, scooping her hands into his. He kissed each hand before he said, "Darling, I love you. I'm not patronizing you. Why is it so hard to believe I would simply be having a conversation with him?"

She said nothing, not wanting to spoil the evening. She could always poke around his correspondence, or pester him during sex. He'd be more likely to be open with her then, and she wouldn't have to wonder how he was keeping things from her. She never kept things from him that weren't for his own good…

But then, he'd likely look at it the same way, and say something about how individuals were meant to have secrets occasionally, and what argument would she have?

Cara said pasta would be lovely, and she watched her husband brighten and hurry to the kitchen, leaving her to deflate slightly in the sitting room and sink into the heaviness of her worries, now compounded.

/-/

Penny sensed a change in Mistress. She could not decide what this change was, good or ill, but something was different in the way Mistress spoke, the way he she carried herself, the way she interacted with the dogs and the Grave One. She took less interest in everything, spent more time around the Grave One, and visited the dogs less often. Penny perked up with every rare visit, hoping the change would reverse itself, and Mistress would be back to normal.

Mistress greeted each dog, coming to Penny last, pressing her face into Penny's gray-speckled fur, a mark of Penny's age.

"Hello, darling," Mistress said.

Lighter, that was how she seemed. As though she'd been carrying a great weight on her shoulders, and now the weight was gone and she could walk taller, behave more…carefree. Penny thought this could be a good sign, a signal Master and Cynthia would return soon, and the Grave One would leave and life would return to normal.

But then, Penny was only a dog.

/-/

Catherine sat with Rabastan in her dream, in the sitting room, staring out at the grounds. He was close to her, very close, but he had not crossed a line. She thought of what Rabastan said in the waking hours, about how this whole dream was probably a manifestation of unfulfilled fantasy. If this was true, she should do something, surely. If she did not fulfill the dreams, they might continue to haunt her, without meaning, without purpose, for the rest of her life.

Even if they kept haunting her, she could manage to bring purpose to them.

"Could you read to me again?" she asked, looking up at him and wondering whether he was thinking anything at all. Did dreams work like that, or were the figures in dreams purely reactionary, behaving according to some blend of illogic and the thoughts her psyche ascribed to them?

She wished she could ask Luna, she mused, and then the thought dissipated.

"Of course, if you wish."

"I would like that," she said, and she went to the library with him. Rabastan found a book on the shelf and settled on the window seat, and she startled him by laying down beside him, resting her head in his lap as he began to read her the story.

Catherine didn't close her eyes, mostly out of fear. If she didn't keep them open, she might wake and lose this rather quiet, contented moment. As he read, his fingers searched for something to do, and eventually they found themselves in her hair, caressing her scalp, petting and smoothing her locks as she shifted to find greater comfort. Catherine lost track of the words quickly, listening instead to the lilt of his voice, smooth and warm and kind as it covered the pages and warmed her ears. The room seemed to grow warmer – her body seemed to grow hotter – as she felt his fingers lingering on her face and ears at each accidental brush, and she felt her resolve slipping.

After all, it was a dream. A nothing. The consequences of her actions were nothing. She could have what she wanted, should have what she wanted in a world of fantasy and dream.

But a tiny voice in the back of her head held her back, and Catherine contented herself with enjoying this one small scene she created.

She fell asleep before he finished his reading, despite her best efforts to remain in the dream.

Catherine woke alone in the library, dozing on the window seat, no book in her arms, but a blanket she didn't remember draped over her. Rabastan must have brought it, she mused, and she glanced up to where the clock ought to be, but it wasn't there. The sun was relatively high, and she thought perhaps she would go for a swim. She was tired, but it felt like a good plan.

"Ah, you're awake," Rabastan said smoothly as he entered the library with a tray. "I was just going to leave your tea here for you. Sandwiches. Nothing fancy. I was thinking of us getting an early night tonight, if you're interested."

Catherine knew an early night meant he wanted to go to bed, to have sex with her, and lately not a night went by where he wasn't begging to roleplay as her father. Despite growing used to the actions, she had not become used to how degrading and awful it felt, how wrong it seemed to her. She'd never thought of the word perversion before, but it as soon as it flitted across her mind it began nesting there, building in the back of it and telling her no, this wasn't right.

"Oh, I don't know," she said, rubbing the back of her neck. "I've been terribly tired lately. Why don't we wait and see?"

Yes, this would buy her some time to come up with a better excuse, or a logical reason why she didn't want to roleplay, even if sex seemed like a nice idea.

"Alright, love," he said kissing her forehead. "Whatever you decide. Enjoy your tea. I'll leave you be."

"Wait," she said, sitting up. He paused, raising his eyebrows, and she felt her cheeks go hot. "Are you…busy now?"

"No," he said, cocking his head slightly in question.

"Could…could you read to me? While I eat. If you're not…. If it's not…"

Rabastan kissed her gently and went to the shelf, looking through the books for something suitable as she sat up so she could reach the tray without fear of spilling. She settled her back against his arm and enjoyed her sandwiches as he read her the lovely stories from the book he'd grabbed.

/-/

Rabastan couldn't understand what Catherine's hesitations were, and now she'd grown colder in her dream state as well. She wanted to have some manner of space, he supposed, and it must be difficult for him to be her only solid human companionship, whether waking or in dreams. But it was necessary, and he only hoped they could be further along, closer to his ideal. He'd been so patient for so many years, it was only sensible for it to pay off, now.

Catherine would grow used to things, with time, but what if they didn't have time? What if he had to move more quickly?

Of course, there were other things he could do, other spells he could use, but even if she proved more mentally strong than her mother had been, she had protectors Cara hadn't had in her youth. Severus would notice, and Harry might. Jason's bond with her could cause him to become aware once the mess with Cynthia was resolved. Even if it proved worthwhile in the short term, Rabastan couldn't fathom it would be positive in the long term.

He watched her as she walked the Irish Setter around the house, and he frowned, wondering how he could achieve his results quicker without resorting to more extreme measures. Perhaps it was not possible, but he liked to believe he had some control over the situation. He liked to believe he could coax her along more quickly, if he could only plant the right seeds.

But what seeds? He pressed his face to the glass, wishing the cold panes would cool his frustration. What was there left he hadn't tried?

He supposed he could try a few things when he had her in bed, as her mind seemed more open and receptive when he had her writhing with sexual need. It was simply difficult to keep his own mind focused on her, on what he needed and wanted, rather than the incredible sensation and his own sexual desires.

She pressed her face into the neck of the dog, and he rubbed his thumb along his bottom lip, wondering what she said to the dog, wishing he'd had the aptitude to learn how to transform into an animal the way her father and sister had. If he could be a bird or even an insect, something where he could gain better access to her internal world, perhaps he would know how best to proceed, because he felt she must tell those dogs everything, especially the Irish Setter, which seemed to be her most frequent companion.

No, that was more time-consuming and impossible than the other options, and he thought perhaps he ought to raise his level, take a few leaves out of his father's book.

If necessary, he supposed, and done with discretion and discernment, those sort of heavy-handed tactics could produce a great deal of happiness. After all, Rabastan had a very happy childhood, and a rather happy adolescence. It was only when the world conspired against him in young-adulthood, he had to find other ways to amuse himself, other goals and desires and dreams.

He would spend the evening deciding what the particular plan would be, how he would go about giving Catherine the necessary nudge, as the current spell was obviously not enough. She still spent too long speaking to her dogs and her husband, and had not taken the desired plunge in her fantasy world.

Her mind was more resilient than he anticipated, but that would be no concern at all. He had plenty of ways to try, if he only had the time to test them. Something would work.

/-/

Sirius watched his wife sleep and wondered at all the things he lost, all the nights like this he'd given up to be where the action was. He wondered if it was something deficient in him then, that he couldn't be satisfied with spending every possible moment with Cara and the children, and now the grandchildren. Or was there something deficient in him now, that he was hoping never to have to go back to work, when he still had so much vitality.

He brushed a strand of Cara's hair out of her face and smiled to himself. She was no longer young, but when he looked at her in the moonlight, it was the simplest thing in the world to see her as the beautiful young woman he'd fallen in love with, without realizing how fast he was falling. During the war, he'd been happy to spend as much time as possible with her, found it frustrating when he was torn away from her side. How had he become so used to leaving her every fall, not seeing her until Christmas?

He rested his head on her chest and closed his eyes for a moment, but he couldn't seem to sleep. Instead, he cast a quick charm to keep her from worrying, left a note on where he'd be so she wouldn't panic if she did wake, and he went to Grimmauld Place. Laura was awake, and opened the door, puzzled at seeing him.

"I couldn't sleep," he said, smiling weakly. "Figured you might struggle as well, alone in this house."

"Come in," she said urgently. "Do you want some tea or…something?"

"I shouldn't," Sirius said, rubbing his eyes, but she said she had some herbal teas, if he wanted it, and Sirius accepted a cup of peppermint tea and sat across from her.

"What's on your mind, sir?" she said.

Laura had never been fully comfortable calling Sirius by his name or by any familial title. He'd tried just about everything, but "sir" had become the norm, as it was infinitely better than her calling him "professor" for the rest of her life, especially around the grandchildren.

"I suppose I'm just thinking about…priorities," he said, frowning as she poured his tea, and her own. "You know I never meant this to happen to Jason."

"I know," she said gently. "I never thought you did. You forget, sir, I'm a parent now, too. I often feel the weight and fear of getting it right. And while I can't say I have a favorite child, I worry more about Gareth than the other two put together."

"He's a good kid," Sirius said, almost amused there was anything to worry about Gareth over.

"He is," she said, smiling and inclining her head. "Did you know he's seeing someone?"

Sirius's head jerked back and he realized even at the castle, so much happened right in front of his nose he'd missed. Perhaps he would have seen if he weren't in such a mess over Catherine's branch of the family, or perhaps he simply didn't see as much as he thought.

"You approve?"

"Silently," she said with a small smile. "He doesn't know I know. I expect you and your wife turned a blind eye to a fair amount, when we were young."

Sirius laughed, shrugged, and sipped his tea. He supposed Cara had turned a blind eye, where he had simply been blind. Perhaps it was like that now, with Laura and Jason, albeit under different circumstances. Instead of being blind because of whatever had blinded Sirius, Jason was blinded by the chaos and crisis, and his indelible connection to it. Another wave of guilt passed over Sirius, and he wondered if he could ever make things right with his son, for all the damage his desperate devotion to Catherine had caused.

/-/

Penny paced the garage, unable to settle. She knew something smelled wrong on the air, and she could not settle in her usual bed. The pups were curled up together. Pepper was curled up with Sophie. But Penny could not find any sense of calm, and she needed calm to sleep.

She padded across the garage, back and forth. She wanted to get to the house, but she knew she was locked in for the night. Where Master and Mistress usually let the dogs have the run of the place, as they wanted, the Grave One always locked the door. This did not endear him to the dogs.

Penny wondered what to do about the Grave One, as something clearly had to be done. She could hopefully find some way to separate him from Mistress, perhaps find a way to bring Master home so the Grave One would go away. Sooner, better.

Shadow raised his head from his sister's back and snapped his teeth at Penny, alerting her to the impact her pacing was having on his sleep, and Penny decided she could at least lay down, even if her mind couldn't settle for sleep. She crossed to her bed, circling it several times, trying to find the right way to lay in it, but nothing was quite right. Shadow continued to watch until she laid down and rested her head on the side of the bed, not bothering to close her eyes. Shadow lowered his head to Sadie's back again, curling closer to his siblings, closing his eyes.

Penny's mind stilled paced the room, even though she was not in motion, and she continued to puzzle out her options for how to solve her problem.

A/N: So, Sirius is restless, Cara is suspicious, Catherine continues to fight her strange circumstances, and Rabastan considers his options.

Review Prompt: If you were one of the dogs, what would you do with this situation?

Q&A:

Q: Was it just an accident that Rhiannon came across Cynthia? (Joe-wizard)

A: While Rhiannon was not looking for Cynthia specifically, there was something about Cynthia, in her condition and circumstances while in London, that made her a target, and while it's something still true about Cynthia, it's decreasingly true as the story goes forward. There's a riddle for y'all!

Q: How did Kitty get the mirror? I thought Rabastan took it. (Th3Gingerwizard)

A: YES, sorry, her bedroom door was open, she Summoned it, so wherever he was keeping it, it was accessible. Think Hermione summoning the Horcrux books at the end of book six. Sometimes, dumb luck works.

Q: Did you have all three parts planned out in your head? (Joe-wizard)

A: No. At the very beginning, Part 1 was a dream I had. And I had a strong inkling before I finished writing it all that I was doing Part 2, and most of the primary plots for it. It was most of the way through Part 2 when someone asked if I'd do a part three. At first, I thought – no way. BUT, of course, I came up with the idea. Because once it's been suggested, I can't help myself. When I got to about this point, I realized I knew what I wanted to do for either a Part 4 or a Part 0. It wasn't until I started prewriting Part 0 that I realized I had to do both for the series to have a complete cycle, beginning to end. Part 4 WILL be the end of complete stories, but I'd happily do a Oneshot past it if request.

Q: Does Rhiannon love Cynthia, or is she just using her? (Jonstark1995)

A: Rhiannon is not actually, strictly, capable of an emotion like love, and yes there is use. But Rhiannon would see it more as a symbiotic than a parasitic relationship. I can't say that it's easy for others to see it that way, but I think it would be easier for Cynthia, when all's said and done. For all she gets out of the relationship, Rhiannon does feel she's helping Cynthia, and in one way she is. It's the other ways that are causing the problems.

Cheers!

C