The next week passed in a haze of mixed anxiety and happiness.

Things were still tense between her and Angelina, but they were at least on speaking terms. Angelina didn't avoid her, and Winona even became comfortable enough to sleep in the dorm again. Twice during the week she'd snuck up to Fred's dorm, sliding into bed with him. They'd fall asleep curled around one another like pretzels.

It was hard to find time to be together. Between classes and homework, and finding opportunity to sneak away without being seen, they mostly just spent time together in a group with everyone else. To most of the school, things seemed as they always were. But Winona had to wonder if anybody noticed the fleeting touches and tender glances they exchanged when they thought nobody else was looking.

She hoped they didn't, but they probably weren't being as subtle as they could have been.

The gossip mill in the school was working overtime, spreading rumours of some kind of strange love-square between Winona, Harry, Hermione and Krum. It was strange – and just wrong on a fundamental level when you knew the truth of Harry and Winona's connection. But she'd never put much stock in gossip, and was able to ignore it all with ease.

The day came that she was supposed to meet Sirius in Hogsmeade, and Winona woke up a bundle of nerves. "It's just a Hogsmeade day," said Hope when she caught Winona obsessively fixing her hair in the bathroom mirror. "Why're you trying to look all special?"

"Meeting someone?" asked Alicia, half-teasing, half-serious. Winona chewed anxiously on her bottom lip.

"In a manner of speaking," she said evasively, because she didn't want to lie. Besides, that would explain why she was acting so weird.

It wasn't that she thought she had to look perfect, but something in her gut was urging her to make an effort. Last time she and Sirius had seen one another, it had been gloomy and dark and they'd both hardly been ready to meet their only family for the first time in twelve years. He'd been on the run for the better part of a year, so she didn't expect him to look at his best, but as for her, she wanted to make a good impression.

It felt rather like she were meeting a date – only the date was meeting her father for (essentially) the first time, and the reasons she was nervous were far more complicated than any of them could possibly guess.

"Who is it?" Alicia demanded. Angelina looked up from the book she was reading in bed, and Winona struggled to keep her face free of guilt. It wasn't Fred she had plans with, but that didn't matter considering they were together…behind Angelina's back. Part of her wanted to come clean, but the coward in her whispered that she could put it off awhile longer; what was the harm?

"Nobody," she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Just a friend."

"A friend, or a friend?" Alicia asked keenly.

Winona didn't bother to respond to that. "I'd better get going," she said. "The twins wanna go to Zonko's before it gets too crowded."

Angelina tucked her face back into her book, and Hope rolled her eyes. Alicia sighed, clearly disappointed she wasn't going to be getting any dirty, sordid details. But if she was waiting for that, she'd be waiting an awfully long time.

"I'll see you guys tonight," she said as she made her way to the door.

"You don't wanna meet for a butterbeer later?" Alicia called after her.

Winona hesitated. "I don't know if I'll have time."

Alicia wagged her carefully plucked eyebrows. "You mean if your date goes well?"

"Something like that."

She managed to escape without any more of the third degree. The twins and Lee were waiting by the fire, and she let out a sigh of relief at the sight of them, because with the three of them she didn't have to lie about her and Fred. With them, she could be honest. Not to mention Fred was there, and she was always happier when she was with him.

"Ready to go?" she asked, and George jumped in surprise, not having heard her approach.

"We've been ready twenty minutes," grumbled Lee even as they began to make their way towards the portrait hole. She fell naturally into step beside Fred, and her fingers tingled with the need to grab his hand as they walked, but there were rules. Rules she had put in place. No matter how torturous it was, she had to stick to them. "What kept you?"

"You think this happens in under a half hour?" she shot back, climbing through the portrait hole and letting Lee and George lead the way down the hall and towards the school's entrance, from which they would make their way down towards Hogsmeade. "It takes time to look this pretty, y'know?"

"Hm, I'd noticed you looked extra lovely today," said Lee dryly. "What's the occasion?"

"It's you, Lee," she replied, deadpan. "I'm trying to woo you. Is it working?"

Lee shot a nervous glance at Fred and held up his hands as if in surrender. "Hey," he said reproachfully, "I know your love for me burns deep and true, but I'd hate to step on Freddie's toes."

Winona rolled her eyes, exchanging a grin with George, then glanced to Fred. He had his hands shoved deep into his pockets, as if not knowing what else to do with them. He looked perfectly normal, expression calm and a little bit mischievous, like even now he were looking for ways to inflict mayhem upon the student body, but she could see a tightness in his eyes that few others could.

He felt her searching stare on the side of his face and turned to look. Their eyes locked and electricity crackled between them, along with a thousand words they couldn't say surrounded by the rest of the school meandering down to Hogsmeade with them.

Unable to handle it any longer, she looked away, taking a page from his book and stuffing her hands deep into the pockets of her cardigan, hands balled into tight fists of frustration.

George started to lament the Potions homework Snape had piled him under, and Lee joined in, complaining about McGonagall's choice in essay topics. Winona and Fred were silent from behind them, casting one another looks from the corner of their eyes and trying their best to act natural.

"So, Zonko's?" George asked loudly as they entered the small village and began to make their way through the slushy street towards the joke shop. The crowd surrounding them had begun to thin out, people ducking into the shops lining the street, glad to be out of the cold.

"Sounds good, mate," said Lee, making up for Winona and Fred's tension-filled silence.

"I'll meet up with you there," Fred said abruptly, and Winona turned to look at him in surprise. He was staring straight at her, and she warmed under his glittering, cornflower eyes.

"Yeah, me too," she heard herself say.

"Bloody hell," muttered Lee to George in an undertone he fully meant for them to hear. "It's going to be bloody insufferable, isn't it?"

George snorted. "Like it hasn't been already?"

Winona kicked him none-too-gently in the shin, and he quickly got out of there, hurrying off with Lee, muttering about needing to get them girlfriends of their own. Winona turned to face Fred, leaning her weight back against the building behind her.

Fred wasn't looking back at her. Instead he was scanning the street, searching for something. She knew he'd found it when his eyes lit up and he stood a little straighter.

"This way," he said, hands still stuffed into his pockets, utterly nonchalant.

"Oh?" she asked, voice ringing with playful innocence.

"Yeah," he said casually. "I wanna show you something."

She couldn't help the sly smirk that spread across her lips. "Do you, now?"

The tips of his ears went bright red, and she knew it had nothing to do with the cold. "Come on," he said, a little bit sharp, and she laughed to herself as she followed him farther down the street until they reached the alley between Honeydukes and Scrivenshaft's. Fred shot a cursory glance at the street, and once he'd decided nobody lingering in the mushy snow was paying either of them any attention, he gripped her arm and yanked her unceremoniously into the alleyway.

It was small, a rather tight squeeze, but Winona didn't mind at all. There was nothing to hide behind, but she doubted anybody was going to peek down the small, shadowed alley. It was probably about as private as they were going to get.

Fred wasted no time in pushing her up against the brick wall and crowding in on her until she could feel him pressed up against her, almost head-to-toe. She thought he was going to kiss her – well, hoped was really a better word – but instead he just stayed pressed against her, one hand held to the small of her back, keeping her flush against him, the other gripping the wall above her head as if using it to steady himself.

Winona shut her eyes and just soaked up his presence, gripping the collar of his shirt in her hands to hold him to her – as if he had any intentions of moving away. She breathed in his scent, letting it calm and soothe and excite her in the same instant.

"Hey," he finally said, voice so uncharacteristically small.

Winona smiled but didn't open her eyes. "Hey," she whispered back, inching ever closer, like they were magnets that couldn't help but be pulled together.

"I missed you," he told her, whispering it like a confession. Winona's heart began doing gymnastics in her chest.

"You see me all the time," she reminded him with a small laugh. Opening her eyes, she found him with his shut, head bent towards hers, soaking her up like the sun.

"Not like this," he said, a simple truth. She moved her right hand from his collar to his face, running her fingertips tenderly along the line of his jaw, and his deep blue eyes opened, long, pale lashes fluttering against his cheekbones.

"I missed you too," she told him, a confession of her own. Fred smiled, the sight of it taking her breath away, and finally, as if he could take no more, he swooped down and pressed his lips to hers.

The relief was sharp and potent in her veins, and she sighed into his mouth. Fred pushed her up against the side of the alley once again, hand caught between her spine and the wall, but he didn't seem to care.

He kissed her like it had been weeks since he'd had the chance, rather than barely a few days. But Winona certainly wasn't complaining. He was so passionate – more passionate than she'd expected him to be.

She'd thought she knew him – every facet of his being. But now she was experiencing a new facet; the part of him he didn't show anyone but his girlfriend – but to her. He was so passionate, kissing her like a man starved all his life of touch. Kissing her like she were a roast and he were hungry for more. Kissing her like he wanted to tell her something there just weren't words for in any language on Earth.

She felt like she almost couldn't keep up. But she certainly did her best to try.

She met every pull of his lips, every subtle stroke of his tongue. She wound her hands into his hair and tugged. He made a noise that she swallowed, and he used the hand on her spine to tug her against him. He brushed against her and her breath hitched.

With her toes beginning to ache from the way she was standing on them to reach his mouth, Winona very reluctantly pulled away, taking a moment to catch her breath.

"We shouldn't be doing this here," she whispered, knowing her voice would waver if she tried to speak.

"You're right," he agreed, voice so husky that it sent a thrill through her body, zinging down her nerves until it reached her core, making her throb with longing. "We shouldn't."

Then he swooped back in and kissed her again, and Winona laughed breathlessly against him.

She wasn't sure how long they stood there, pressed against the wall, snogging the daylights out of each other. She just lost herself in the feel of him. Every now and then he'd pull away for air, then chuckle when she desperately chased his lips.

She hadn't been lying, before. She'd missed him. When they were in public it felt like there were so many barriers between them that they couldn't even be the friends they'd always been. The tension was too much. The urge to be and to touch was too absolute.

Was she making a mistake, wanting to keep this a secret? Was it doing more harm than good?

"Uh, Winnie?"

The pair were pulled from their all-encompassing stupor by the sound of Harry's unsure voice. Winona – who by this point was being entirely held up by Fred, legs wrapped securely around his waist – shot an alarmed glance over her boyfriend's shoulder.

Harry was stood in the mouth of the alley, Hermione and Ron standing beyond, all three looking about as comfortable as a group of kids wrapped in Devil's Snare. "Harry," she said, surprised. Fred cleared his throat and gently lowered her back to her feet, stepping away to give them both some room to breathe. "Hi," she continued, a little bit awkward.

"Um, it's time to go," her cousin said, cheeks bright pink from what he'd just witnessed. "We should leave now if we want to be on time."

"Right," she murmured, having completely forgotten what her plans for the afternoon even were. Fred was very good at making her forget the world even existed. "I'll be right out."

Looking relieved to give them some space, Harry stepped back out into the street and murmured something to a red-faced Ron and a scandalised Hermione.

Winona sighed, tipping her head forwards until her forehead was pressed to Fred's collarbone, hands splayed against his chest. His heart thundered beneath his sternum just as wildly as hers, and it made her breathless to know she affected him as much as he affected her.

"You don't need to be nervous," Fred murmured, smoothing a hand down the length of her light hair, which she'd spent so much time taming this morning, only to let Fred's hands completely undo all her tedious work.

"Who said I was nervous?" she asked, voice slightly muffled by his chest.

"I know you," he told her simply. She said nothing, trailing her fingertips over his chest, drawing random shapes into the front of his shirt. "It's not like it's the first time you're meeting him," Fred said rationally.

"I know, but…" she trailed off, not having a good reply.

"It feels like it is," he finished for her, seeming to know what she wanted to say before she did. "What are you afraid of?" he asked softly, pressing just a little bit, knowing she needed the push to be honest.

"What – what if he doesn't…?" she trailed off again, struggling to find the words.

"Like you?" he finished again, seeming to know her very heart. How did he do that? She met his eyes and knew he saw vulnerability in her own. "Win," he said, reproachful and warm. "He's going to love you. Trust me; it's impossible not to."

She wasn't sure that was true – plenty of people didn't like her, let alone love her – but she appreciated his attempt to cheer her up. "What if it's awkward?" she wondered.

"Just be yourself."

"That's a cliché," she mumbled.

"Yeah, for a reason," he shot back. Winona rolled her eyes, picking at imaginary lint on his jacket. "Win," he said, a tiny bit exasperated. "It's going to be fine. If all else fails; talk about me." She look up at him again, confused. "Y'know, because I'm so talented and special and good looking. It'll be impossible not to gush about me."

The look she sent him was amused. "You want me to tell my father – a man who's on the run for a murder he didn't commit, but absolutely wanted to – all about my new boyfriend?" she asked around a smirk. "Are you sure that's wise?"

Fred went pale. "On second thought, better keep me out of it," he murmured.

"Winnie," said Harry from the mouth of the alley, exasperated.

Winona rolled her eyes. "I'd better go," she said, reluctant. Fred's eyes sparkled with warmth and his lips were red and slightly swollen from the fervour with which she'd kissed him. It made leaving a thousand times more difficult. "Wish me luck?"

"Nah," he said confidently, hands settled firmly on her hips, fingertips brushing the sliver of skin exposed by her shirt. "You don't need luck. You've got this."

She smiled, taking an extra moment to pull him closer, his scent swimming around her. She didn't want to leave. Things with Sirius were uncomfortable, uncertain. But being with Fred was never anxiety-inducing. It was just easy. She didn't want to leave him and the way he made her feel.

She pushed up onto her toes once more, pressing a gentle, tender kiss to his lips, one hand holding his face, thumb brushing along his cheekbone.

"Really, how long can they go at it?" Ron's hissed voice demanded from the mouth of the alley, and Winona knew she could stall no longer.

With great reluctance in her heart, she pulled away from Fred and shot him a shaky smile. "I'll see you later," she promised him.

"Later," he agreed, voice still holding that husky edge that made her body tingle with awareness.

And so she forced herself to walk away, stepping from the alley and out into the light of day. Harry and his friends were eyeing her with warring amusement and disgust, and she ruffled Harry's wild hair affectionately. "You'll understand one day, kiddos," she told them, turning on her heel and leading the way through the village to where they were set to meet Sirius.

"I'm not sure I want to understand," muttered Ron.

Winona rolled her eyes and just led on, hooking an arm around Harry's shoulders. "Did I totally gross you out?" she wondered.

"It's like you're attached at the mouths," Harry grumbled. Winona tried not to snicker with amusement.

"I didn't realise the two of you were together now, Winona," said Hermione carefully.

"Er, it's not something we're really…advertising yet," she confessed. "So if you guys could maybe-"

"We won't tell anyone," Hermione assured her before she could grow nervous. "But for what it's worth, I'm really happy for you."

Winona grinned. "Thanks, 'Mione."

As they were just about to turn the corner that led to their destination, Winona glanced back over her shoulder at where she'd left Fred. He was leaning in the mouth of the alleyway, slouched casually against the wall, looking delicious as sin and watching her leave. She cast him an affectionate smile that he returned, but then Harry was gripping her wrist and pulling her impatiently after him.

They all walked in comfortable silence to the end of the lane, and Winona's heart skipped a beat when her eyes fell to a large, shaggy black dog stood with its paws up on the stile. Winona had never seen Sirius in his Animagus form before, but she still recognised him instantly. His black, canine eyes seemed fixed entirely on her.

"Hello, Sirius," said Harry, a smile on his face. Winona lifted a hand, waving at the dog awkwardly.

Sirius made a yapping sound around the mouthful of newspapers he was carrying, sniffing at Harry's bulging bag before trotting off into the distance. Clearly, they were meant to follow.

Although it were March, the sun was still bearing down on them like it hadn't gotten the memo. The climb to Sirius' hiding spot was arduous, up a steep incline of sharp and dangerous rocks. But finally, after an exhausting half hour, they arrived at a small break in the rocks to reveal a cave. Sirius trotted inside, hardly out of breath, while the four students dragged themselves in after them, panting like they'd run a marathon.

Buckbeak was in the far corner, tethered to a large rock, and while Harry, Hermione and Ron all bowed to the great beast, Winona was more focused on her father, now in human form, stood looking rather nervous at the sight of them.

He was very thin – really little more than skin and bones, at this point – and his dark hair was long and matted. He was dressed in the same prison robes as last time she'd seen him. Winona stared at him, and he stared back. All that madness from her visions was gone, and some of the grief too. In its place stood peace, and maybe a tiny bit of happiness.

"Chicken!" he cried, voice hoarse, and whatever she'd been expecting him to say, it wasn't that.

Harry pulled open his bag and handed over the bundle of chicken legs and bread he'd haphazardly stuffed inside.

"Thanks," said Sirius gratefully, already devouring the small meal like he hadn't eaten properly in a month. By the looks of him, Winona would say that seemed about right. "I've been living off rats mostly. Can't steal too much food from Hogsmeade; I'd draw attention to myself."

He grinned up at Harry and Winona, both of whom returned the expression warily.

"What're you doing here, Sirius?" Harry asked, unmistakable disapproval in his tone. Sirius either didn't hear it, or didn't care.

"Fulfilling my duty as a father – and godfather," said Sirius honestly. Winona's heart skipped another beat and she had to look away to keep her eyes from stinging. "Don't worry about it," he said, seeming to get the wrong idea about why she was upset, "I'm pretending to be a lovable stray."

When neither Harry nor Winona grinned back, the levity faded a little, replaced by more serious tones.

"I want to be on the spot," he confessed. "Your last letter … well, let's just say things are getting fishier. I've been stealing the paper every time someone throws one out, and by the looks of things, I'm not the only one who's getting worried."

Sirius nodded to the yellowing Daily Prophets he'd dropped on the cave floor. Ron picked them up and unfolded them, but Winona and Harry could only continue to stare at Sirius. Part of Winona thought that if she stopped watching him, he might blow away like smoke. Even as this was, it barely felt real. Like a dream – although whether it was a good one or a bad one was still to be determined.

"What if they catch you?" Harry demanded. "What if you're seen?"

"You four and Dumbledore are the only ones around here who know I'm an Animagus," said Sirius like it were really that simple. He kept gnawing at the chicken bone, rather doglike in his eating habits.

"Well, and the twins," said Hermione, and Winona's eyes cut to hers, irritation in their depths. Hermione's cheeks went pink at the realisation that she'd said something she shouldn't have.

Sirius finally stopped devouring the food they'd brought, lowering the chicken bone into his lap, eyes flickering between them all unsurely. "Who are the twins?" he demanded, confused and a little bit cautious.

"Fred and George – my older brothers," said Ron when it became clear Winona didn't want to answer the question. "They're Winnie's best mates – so, anything she knows, they know."

Sirius still looked wary, eyes cutting to Winona. "Are they trustworthy?"

Winona's mouth seemed to have gone dry, making speaking a challenge. Ron answered for her again. "Judging by the way Fred just had his tongue halfway down Winnie's throat, I'd say he wouldn't risk anything that would hurt her," said Ron, who probably didn't think of the words 'trustworthy' and 'Fred and George' as particularly synonymous.

Winona slapped Ron sharply upside the head, and he cried out in surprise, holding a hand to his ringing skull.

Sirius' eyes had narrowed, eyeing Winona with a new consideration. She thought it must be strange for him. Last time she'd seen him – their meeting in the courtyard last year and their recent exchange in the Floo notwithstanding – she'd only been a toddler. And now she was a grown adult, just days away from being seventeen, kissing boys he knew nothing about.

But he didn't get to have an opinion. It wasn't his fault he hadn't been around all this time, but the fact of the matter remained. He might have been her father by blood, but he hadn't raised her. He had no say in what went on in her life.

Hermione hissed at Ron in disapproval, and the tips of his ears went bright red. Sirius was still staring at Winona, a thousand questions burning in his eyes. "He's my boyfriend," she explained, a little stilted.

Sirius still looked wary. "And these twins," he said it like it were a foreign word on his tongue, "they won't say anything?"

"Never," she swore, because she knew it in her bones. She trusted the twins more than anybody – and that was saying something.

Sirius was still staring at her, and while Winona could hazard a guess at what was going through his mind, the truth was that she actually had no idea. She stared back at him, trying to see herself in his face. But he was so malnourished and gaunt, he looked more similar to a corpse than to any living person.

Ron handed Harry the newspapers he'd swiped from the cave floor, and her cousin began to scan them with interest. Winona couldn't have cared less. This was her father, right here, standing in front of her. And she couldn't think of a single thing to say.

"They're making it sound like he's dying," said Harry from beside her, and Winona looked away from Sirius to glance at the article he was reading. Something about Crouch still being missing – which she supposed was a bad thing, but she hardly missed the bloke. "But he can't be that ill if he managed to get up here…"

"My brother is Crouch's personal assistant," Ron informed Sirius, whose eyebrows climbed his waxen forehead in surprise.

"He says Crouch is suffering from overwork. Mind you, he did look ill, last time I saw him up close," said Harry, eyes still on the story in the Prophet. "The night my name came out of the goblet."

"Getting his comeuppance for sacking Winky, isn't he?" sniped Hermione. She was stroking a hand down Buckbeak's coat, the beast crunching up the bones of Sirius' devoured meal. "I bet he wishes he hadn't done it now — bet he feels the difference now she's not there to look after him."

"Hermione's obsessed with house-elves," Ron muttered to Sirius, casting Hermione a dark look. But it fell on deaf ears. Sirius was just interested in the facts of the story.

"Crouch sacked his house-elf?" he asked keenly.

"Yeah, at the Quidditch World Cup," said Harry, and he launched into the story of the Dark Mark's appearance, and Winky being found with Harry's wand clutched in her hand, and Mr. Crouch's fury. When Harry had finished, Sirius was on his feet again and had started pacing up and down the cave.

"Let me get this straight," he said after a few long minutes of quiet, brandishing a fresh chicken leg like a wand. "You first saw the elf in the Top Box. She was saving Crouch a seat, right?"

"Right," said Harry, Ron, and Hermione together.

"But Crouch didn't turn up for the match?"

"No," said Harry. "I think he said he'd been too busy."

Sirius paced all around the cave in silence. Then he said, "Harry, did you check your pockets for your wand after you'd left the Top Box?"

"Erm…" Harry's expression pinched as he thought about it. "No," he finally murmured. "I didn't need to use it before we got in the forest. And then I put my hand in my pocket, and all that was in there were my Omnioculars. Are you saying whoever conjured the Mark stole my wand in the Top Box?"

"It's possible," was all Sirius said.

"Winky didn't steal that wand!" Hermione trilled, defiance in her eyes.

"You're giving this elf a lot of credit," said Winona, a steady voice of reason. "Just because it looks cute, doesn't mean it can't be evil. Did Cujo teach you nothing?"

Ron's expression shuttered. "Who in Merlin's name is Cujo?" he demanded.

Hermione waved him away. "Never mind."

"The elf wasn't the only one in that box," interjected Sirius, continuing to pace the whole length of the small cave, fingers white-knuckled around his chicken leg. "Who else was sitting behind you?"

"Loads of people," said Harry. "Some Bulgarian ministers…Cornelius Fudge…the Notts…the Malfoys…"

"The Malfoys!" cried Ron suddenly, so loudly that his voice echoed all around the cave, and Buckbeak tossed his head nervously. "I bet it was Lucius Malfoy!"

"Do you have any proof?" Winona asked dryly.

Ron faltered. "Well, no," he said uncomfortably, "but look at the guy! He's a creep!"

"Ah yes," she replied in a deadpan. "That argument will hold up well in court."

Ron pulled a face at her, and she made one back. Sirius interrupted before the conversation could devolve any further. "Anyone else?" he asked keenly.

Harry shook his head. "No one."

"Yes, there was," Hermione reminded him, "there was Ludo Bagman."

"I don't know anything about Bagman except that he used to be Beater for the Wimbourne Wasps," said Sirius, still pacing. Winona wondered if he'd done a lot of that in Azkaban. Had he paced like this, counting the days with his steps, doing his best to keep from going mad? "What's he like?"

"He's okay," said Harry cautiously. "He keeps offering to help me with the Triwizard Tournament."

"Does he, now?" said Sirius, his frown deepening. "I wonder why he'd do that?"

They continued to talk, going over the facts again and again, trying to wrench some sense from them. Sirius paced and he paced, all but wearing a hole in the floor. Winona took a seat at the ashes of the campfire Sirius had made. They were still a little bit warm, and she held her hands over the echo of their heat, listening to the group around her distantly.

"D'you know Crouch, then?" asked Harry suddenly, and Winona looked up from the embers of the dead fire, curiosity in her eyes.

Like a cloud had floated over the cave, darkness appeared in Sirius' eyes. It glinted and twisted like onyx, and Winona found herself just a tiny bit afraid.

"Oh I know Crouch all right," he said quietly, a deep hatred in his voice. "He was the one who gave the order for me to be sent to Azkaban — without a trial."

The cloud around him grew darker, nearly matching the storminess of his eyes. "You're kidding!" exclaimed Harry.

Despite the darkness, Sirius managed a casual shrug. "I'm not," he said around another mouthful of chicken. "Crouch used to be Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, didn't you know? He was tipped for the next Minister of Magic. He's a great wizard, Barty Crouch, powerfully magical — and power-hungry. Oh, never a Voldemort supporter," he said, reading the look on their faces. "No, Barty Crouch was always very outspoken against the Dark Side. But then a lot of people who were against the Dark Side…well, you wouldn't understand…you're too young."

"That's what my dad said at the World Cup," said Ron, annoyed that they kept being told that. Winona had to agree; it was condescending. "Try us, why don't you?"

Sirius grinned, and Winona thought he might have been rather handsome; perhaps in another life. He began to tell the tale of the first Wizarding war. How Crouch had spearheaded the movement against the Death Eaters, and how he seemed at the height of power until his own son was caught working for the dark side.

"Crouch's son was caught?" gasped Hermione. Winona was similarly surprised.

"Yep," said Sirius, throwing the chicken bone to Buckbeak and beginning to work on the bread they'd brought. "Nasty little shock for old Barty, I'd imagine. Should have spent a bit more time at home with his family, shouldn't he? Ought to have left the office early once in a while, gotten to know his own son…" he trailed off, suddenly realising the power of his words.

His eyes slid over to Winona, pain in their stormy depths, and she met his stare, brow pinched. Something passed between them – an understanding of sorts, although Winona couldn't have put it into words if she'd had a hundred years to try.

Sirius turned to the bread and began to break off large chunks, shoving them into his mouth and barely chewing before he swallowed. "Was his son a Death Eater?" Harry asked him curiously.

"No idea," said Sirius, still stuffing bread into his face, seeming relieved for the distraction. "I was in Azkaban myself when he was brought in. This is mostly stuff I've found out since I got out. The boy was definitely caught in the company of people I'd bet my life were Death Eaters — but he might have been in the wrong place at the wrong time, just like the house-elf."

"Did Crouch try and get his son off?" Hermione whispered.

Sirius let out a laugh that was much more like a bark. "Crouch let his son off? I thought you had the measure of him, Hermione! Anything that threatened to tarnish his reputation had to go; he had dedicated his whole life to becoming Minister of Magic. You saw him dismiss a devoted house-elf because she associated him with the Dark Mark again – doesn't that tell you what he's like? Crouch's fatherly affection stretched just far enough to give his son a trial, and by all accounts, it wasn't much more than an excuse for Crouch to show how much he hated the boy…then he sent him straight to Azkaban."

"His own son," said Winona without thinking. Sirius' eyes snapped to her, but her own were faraway. "He just handed him over; as if it were a sacrifice worth making." Sirius grimaced like her words caused him pain, but she barely noticed. "I don't know how he could be so cruel."

"I saw the dementors bringing him in," Sirius confessed, eyes just as distant as hers, "watched them through the bars in my cell door. He can't have been more than nineteen. They took him into a cell near mine. He was screaming for his mother by nightfall. He went quiet after a few days, though…they all went quiet in the end…except when they shrieked in their sleep…"

That same darkness draped over Sirius like a cloak, and Winona felt her eyes sting. She looked away, wrapping her arms around her knees and staring out the crack in the mountain that served as the entrance to this tiny shelter. Sunlight streamed in through the slit, but it didn't seem beautiful now. It just seemed another harsh thing in an even harsher world.

"So, he's still in Azkaban?" Harry wondered, voice quiet and subdued.

"No," said Sirius dully. "No, he's not in there anymore. He died about a year after they brought him in."

The four of them went deathly quiet, the silence ringing like a gunshot. "He died?" Hermione asked sharply.

"He wasn't the only one," said Sirius, understandably bitter. "Most go mad in there, and plenty stop eating in the end. They lose the will to live. You could always tell when a death was coming, because the dementors could sense it, they got excited. That boy looked pretty sickly when he arrived. Crouch being an important Ministry member, he and his wife were allowed a deathbed visit. That was the last time I saw Barty Crouch, half carrying his wife past my cell. She died herself, apparently, shortly afterward. Grief. Wasted away just like the boy. Crouch never came for his son's body. The dementors buried him outside the fortress; I watched them do it."

It was so grim, Winona felt like her stomach were full of rocks. She hugged her knees tighter, wishing Fred were there with her to hold her hand and make a stupid joke to break the tension. It was impossible for things to stay gloomy long around him, and she suddenly needed his levity like air.

Sirius picked up the flask of pumpkin juice Harry had brought and drained it in two large gulps.

"So, old Crouch lost it all, just when he thought he had it made," he continued, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "One moment, a hero, poised to become Minister of Magic … next, his son dead, his wife dead, the family name dishonoured, and – so I've heard since I escaped – a big drop in popularity. Once the boy had died, people started feeling a bit more sympathetic toward the son and started asking how a nice young lad from a good family had gone so badly astray. The conclusion was that his father never cared much for him. So Cornelius Fudge got the top job, and Crouch was shunted sideways into the Department of International Magical Cooperation."

Winona tried not to think about the last twelve years, her going about her life without knowing Sirius – her father – was alive, wasting away in the most horrendous hell the world could create. Would it have changed anything, she wondered? Would it have made a difference?

She'd have still been in foster homes so terrible she was permanently purple and green, and she'd still have lost everything. But knowing, maybe it would have given her some degree of hope. Or maybe it would have made everything just that much harder.

"Moody says Crouch is obsessed with catching Dark wizards," Harry told Sirius, breaking Winona from her stupor.

"Yeah, I've heard it's become a bit of a mania with him," Sirius confirmed. "If you ask me, he still thinks he can bring back the old popularity by catching one more Death Eater."

"And he sneaked up here to search Snape's office!" said Ron with a victorious glance at Hermione.

"Yes, and that doesn't make sense at all," Sirius agreed.

"Yeah, it does!" said Ron excitedly, but Sirius shook his head.

"Listen, if Crouch wants to investigate Snape, why hasn't he been coming to judge the tournament? It would be an ideal excuse to make regular visits to Hogwarts and keep an eye on him."

"So you think Snape could be up to something, then?" asked Harry, but Hermione broke in.

"Look, I don't care what you say, Dumbledore trusts Snape —"

"Oh give it a rest, Hermione," snapped Ron. "I know Dumbledore's brilliant and everything, but that doesn't mean a really clever Dark wizard couldn't fool him-"

"Why did Snape save Harry's life in the first year, then? Why didn't he just let him die?"

"I dunno – maybe he thought Dumbledore would kick him out-"

"What d'you think, Sirius?" Harry said loudly, and Ron and Hermione stopped bickering to listen.

"I think they've both got a point," said Sirius, looking thoughtfully at Ron and Hermione. "Ever since I found out Snape was teaching here, I've wondered why Dumbledore hired him. Snape's always been fascinated by the Dark Arts, he was famous for it at school. Slimy, oily, greasy-haired kid, he was," Sirius added. Harry and Ron grinned at each other, but Winona grimaced. "Snape knew more curses when he arrived at school than half the kids in seventh year, and he was part of a gang of Slytherins who nearly all turned out to be Death Eaters."

Sirius held up his fingers and began ticking off names.

"Rosier and Wilkes — they were both killed by Aurors the year before Voldemort fell. The Lestranges — they're a married couple — they're in Azkaban. Avery — from what I've heard he wormed his way out of trouble by saying he'd been acting under the Imperius Curse — he's still at large. But as far as I know, Snape was never even accused of being a Death Eater — not that that means much. Plenty of them were never caught. And Snape's certainly clever and cunning enough to keep himself out of trouble."

"Snape knows Karkaroff pretty well, but he wants to keep that quiet," said Ron.

"Yeah, you should've seen Snape's face when Karkaroff turned up in Potions yesterday!" said Harry quickly. "Karkaroff wanted to talk to Snape, he says Snape's been avoiding him. Karkaroff looked really worried. He showed Snape something on his arm, but I couldn't see what it was."

"He showed Snape something on his arm?" said Sirius, looking bewildered, but Winona thought to herself that it seemed like he knew more than he was saying. He shrugged, and Winona narrowed her eyes at him, considering. "Well, I've no idea what that's about … but if Karkaroff's genuinely worried, and he's going to Snape for answers… There's still the fact that Dumbledore trusts Snape, and I know Dumbledore trusts where a lot of other people wouldn't, but I just can't see him letting Snape teach at Hogwarts if he'd ever worked for Voldemort."

"Why are Moody and Crouch so keen to get into Snape's office then?" Ron countered stubbornly.

"Well," said Sirius slowly, "I wouldn't put it past Mad-Eye to have searched every single teacher's office when he got to Hogwarts. He takes his Defence Against the Dark Arts seriously, Moody. I'm not sure he trusts anyone at all, and after the things he's seen, it's not surprising. I'll say this for Moody, though, he never killed if he could help it. Always brought people in alive where possible. He was tough, but he never descended to the level of the Death Eaters. Crouch, though … he's a different matter … is he really ill? If he is, why did he make the effort to drag himself up to Snape's office? And if he's not … what's he up to? What was he doing at the World Cup that was so important he didn't turn up in the Top Box? What's he been doing while he should have been judging the tournament?"

Sirius fell silent, eyes faraway, like in his head he were in a different place altogether. Winona watched him, curious. Was that what she looked like when she had a vision? Did she get that same vacancy in her eyes? Were they more similar than they were different?

"You say your brother's Crouch's personal assistant?" Sirius asked suddenly, a spark of life returning to his eyes. "Any chance you could ask him if he's seen Crouch lately?"

"I can try," said Ron, a little reluctant. "Better not make it sound like I reckon Crouch is up to anything dodgy, though. Percy loves Crouch."

"And you might try and find out whether they've got any leads on Bertha Jorkins while you're at it," Sirius added.

"Bagman told me they hadn't," said Harry.

"Yes, he's quoted in the article in there," said Sirius, nodding at the paper. "Blustering on about how bad Bertha's memory is. Well, maybe she's changed since I knew her, but the Bertha I knew wasn't forgetful at all — quite the reverse. She was a bit dim, but she had an excellent memory for gossip. It used to get her into a lot of trouble; she never knew when to keep her mouth shut. I can see her being a bit of a liability at the Ministry of Magic … maybe that's why Bagman didn't bother to look for her for so long. …"

Sirius sighed, and Winona thought he looked exhausted. She wondered when he'd last gotten a half good rest.

"What's the time?" he wondered quietly, rubbing at his hooded eyes.

"It's half past three," said Hermione.

"You'd better get back to school," he said, climbing back up to his feet. "Now listen," he said to Harry, eyes hard, "I don't want you lot sneaking out of school to see me, all right? Just send notes to me here. I still want to hear about anything odd. But you're not to go leaving Hogwarts without permission; it would be an ideal opportunity for someone to attack you."

"No one's tried to attack me so far," said Harry casually, "except a dragon and a couple of grindylows."

"I don't care," Sirius said, voice hard. "I'll breathe freely again when this tournament's over, and that's not until June. And don't forget, if you're talking about me among yourselves, call me Snuffles, okay?"

Harry and his friends nodded obediently, but then Sirius' eyes turned to Winona. He stared at her a moment, eyes heavy and full of a million things he didn't know how to say.

"Why don't we step outside for a minute?" Hermione suggested kindly. "Give the two of you some time to talk?"

Winona almost wanted to say no – she didn't want to be left alone with Sirius. Didn't want to give things the opportunity to get awkward. But she knew it was the right thing to do – there was only so much they could say with Harry and his friends around. As uncomfortable as it might prove to be, they needed a moment alone.

"Wait for me," Sirius said, finally tearing his eyes from his daughter to shoot Hermione a grateful smile. "I'll walk back down to the village with you in a minute."

Agreeing, Ron and Hermione made their way to the mouth of the cave, while Harry hesitated. He wasn't looking at Sirius, but rather Winona, as if he knew how difficult this was going to be for her.

"I'm okay, Harry," she assured him. "We'll meet you out there in a moment."

Relenting, Harry followed Ron and Hermione out of the cave, stepping out into the bright sunshine to give the estranged father and daughter a moment alone.

Taking a deep, quiet breath, Winona turned to Sirius. He was watching her, concern and curiosity burning in his eyes, and Winona wondered what he wanted to know. Everything, probably. She had questions too, but they were hardly organised in her mind. It occurred to her that she probably should have planned something to say before now, but she'd never been the type to take preparation seriously.

"How are you?" Sirius asked her. It sounded rather lame for an opening line, but she supposed it was better than nothing.

"I'm good, yeah," Winona told him, just as awkward. "How about you?"

Sirius gave a wry bark of laughter, and with a glance around the cave he was calling home, Winona had to admit he had a point.

"Right," she said, crossing her arms over her chest. "Of course."

Sirius smiled. "But I'm better than I have been in a long time," he told her, saying it like some kind of confession, "standing here, with you."

Throat tight with emotion, Winona could only stare back at him, wordless. He didn't seem to mind.

"You have a boyfriend?" he asked conversationally.

Still awkward, if not more so now that her love life was the topic of discussion, Winona nodded. "Fred Weasley," she told him. "But we're trying to keep it under wraps, for now, at least."

Sirius frowned. "Why?"

She didn't really feel like explaining the whole Seer/Angelina/personal insecurities thing just yet, so she gave a vague shrug. "It's complicated."

Sirius seemed disappointed that she didn't want to share, but he accepted it, nodding slowly. "Is he nice?" he asked, scraping the barrel for conversation points.

Winona couldn't help but smile. "He's wonderful," she assured him, because it felt like maybe he needed it. "He's my best friend in the world."

Now Sirius' eyes glinted wetly. Horrified, Winona looked away, giving him time to compose himself. To her dismay, he did nothing to smother his emotion. "It boggles me to think you've been living a life … this whole time," he said it like it were some farfetched miracle. Like it were a newly discovered kind of magic. "With school and friends and boyfriends…"

Winona looked up at him again. "Of course I have," she said, maybe just a little bit sharply.

When Sirius smiled, it was sad. "You have to understand, Winona – this whole time, twelve years, I've thought you were dead," he told her, voice rasping from pain and a lack of use. "I mourned for you."

Winona's insides twisted, trying not to think about him wasting away in some cell in the worst prison on earth, mourning over a girl he didn't know still breathed. "I thought you were dead, too," she reminded him, as if it might in any way ease his burden. "You and my mother…as far as I knew, I was alone."

Sirius' expression crumpled, and Winona felt it like a blow. "I can't tell you how sorry I am-"

"I know," she interjected. Because she did know he was sorry – who wouldn't be? – but really, what were apologies worth? "It isn't your fault," she told him, but the words felt empty. Who knew whose fault it was? She barely knew enough of the pieces to put together a coherent timeline for the night her life went to shit. Now that she thought about it, she had a lot of questions.

"When all this is over," said Sirius before she could voice any of the questions burning like acid on her tongue, "when the Tournament is finished and I've had my name cleared, I thought I'd buy a cottage. Somewhere far away, where Buckbeak can fly and I can start to rebuild my life. I thought…well, if you and Harry wanted, you could maybe-"

"Come live with you?" she finished, the air sucked from her lungs by something she refused to label as hope.

Sirius suddenly seemed shy. "Well, only if you wanted-"

"I do want," she told him. And it was crazy, because she barely knew the guy – but he was her father, and the fact of the matter was that she wanted to get to know him. And besides, anything had to be better than where she was now. Not to mention she'd be with Harry. "I mean, I'd like that," she said, sincerity blazing in her eyes. "A lot."

Sirius hesitated. "Even though you'll be seventeen on the third?"

Winona blinked in surprise. "You know my birthday?"

He laughed, the sound now less of a bark and more of a hearty chuckle. "I'd think so," he said. "You hardly forget the day your own daughter was born."

The unexpected word made them both pause. Winona's breath caught. She'd never been anyone's daughter before. To her surprise, it wasn't an unpleasant feeling. Unsure how to convey that to Sirius, Winona attempted a smile. Sirius smiled back, making his gaunt face look handsome again, and she wondered about her mother, and how they'd fallen in love, and whether it was anything like the deep, simmering feelings she had for Fred.

All these questions and more bubbled at her tongue. She so desperately wanted to ask them, but she didn't know where to start, or even if she should.

A shadow appeared in the entryway. "Winnie?" Hermione called, sounding apologetic. "It's getting close to curfew. If we don't leave soon, we'll all be in trouble."

But Winona desperately wanted more time with Sirius. She briefly considered telling them to go on without her, and that she'd sneak back into school through one of Hogsmeade's secret passageways. But what if someone noticed she was missing, and they sent out a search party? The risk of them finding Sirius was too great, so with a disappointed sigh, she nodded.

"Be right out," she told Hermione dully.

Hermione slipped back out into the waning light, and Winona turned back to Sirius. He looked disappointed, too, and she found a sort of solace in that. "We'll see each other again," he told her, a promise in not so many words.

"Do you really think you can do it?" she wondered, unable to help but ask this one question. "Get your name cleared, I mean."

Sirius smiled, tender. "I found you again, didn't I? Kind of makes you believe anything's possible."

Winona didn't know what to say to something like that. She stared at him, her father, watching the hope and happiness shine in his eyes. They were in a damp cave on the side of a mountain in the middle of winter, he'd only just had his first decent meal in months, and the only other living thing he had for company was a stubborn Hippogriff – and yet somehow the sight of her stood before her brought him relief. Like she was all he needed to be happy.

Nobody had ever made her feel that way before – not even Fred, or Harry. They had other people, family, or enough friends that it felt like one. But she realised now that Sirius didn't have anyone – she and Harry, they were it. His whole world.

It felt like a daunting amount of responsibility, the weight of it sitting uncomfortably on her chest. Something must have shown on her face, because Sirius' expression softened.

He opened his arms, slow and tentative, like he wasn't sure she wouldn't laugh in his face. "Come here?" he whispered hopefully.

Winona wished she could say she didn't hesitate – but the truth was, she did. She didn't know this man. They were bound by blood and not much else. They didn't have a relationship to build from. They had nothing.

But he was still her father, and maybe if she wanted to someday feel like that was true, she had to start, here and now, treating him like it.

She inched towards him, cautiously lifting her arms and wrapping them around his thin shoulders. He was so narrow – little more than skin and bone draped in a tattered old prison uniform. He smelt awful, like sweat and blood and hunger, and underneath all that there was a hint of something that might have been cigarette smoke.

He didn't smell like what she'd imagined dads should smell like – or like Mr Weasley, who was all soap and parsley, comforting and masculine in the way only a dad could be – but part of her kind of liked Sirius' smell. It was real, gritty. It showed how he'd suffered.

But that didn't mean he still couldn't use a good bath.

His frail arms wrapped around her, holding her delicately, like he were thought she might be fragile. It was just another thing that reminded her of how little he knew her.

But she was still hugging him – her own dad, the man she'd thought was dead and gone. He was here, loving her and caring about her and doing the best he could with the shitty cards they'd been dealt. And one day, he even wanted to live with her.

She pulled back after a long minute, horrified to find her eyes stinging with tears.

Sirius smiled, raising his hand to wipe his thumb at the skin under her eye where a tear had escaped without permission. "You remind me of her," he told her quietly, a secret between them. She didn't need to ask who; it was clear he meant her mother.

"Tell me about her, one day?" she asked hopefully.

Sirius smiled, somehow both pained and happy, and cupped her face in his hand. "I'd love nothing more."

Winona swallowed. "When you're pardoned," she said it like a promise, like an absolutely certainty of the world. He would be pardoned, and then they could begin to rebuild what He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had so cruelly torn away.

Sirius grinned wider. "When I'm pardoned," he echoed, just as much of a promise.

With great reluctance, Winona left the cave, stepping out into the fading afternoon. Harry, Ron and Hermione had all taken seats on flat rocks to wait for them, but they stood up at the sight of her. She wasn't sure what was showing on her face, but whatever it was, it was enough to make Harry reach for her hand.

Sirius appeared in dog form, trotting his way down the side of the mountain they were perched on. The four of them said nothing, breath clouding from the cold as they trudged their way back through the snow towards the village. The sun was beginning to set, and they knew they had to get back to the school quickly, lest they arise any unwanted suspicion.

They arrived back at the stile, and Sirius paused, sitting on his haunches and panting at them. His big eyes looked sad, though, as they said their silent goodbyes. Harry, Hermione and Ron all patted him on the head, but Winona crouched down at his side, uncaring that her knees got drenched in the slushy snow.

"See you, Snuffles," she said quietly, scratching behind his ear. His tongue lolled from his mouth, but his eyes were still sad. She smiled at him, the warmest expression she knew how to make, and slowly stood back to her feet, watching as her father reluctantly trotted off around the edge of Hogsmeade village.

"We should get back," said Hermione, looking anxiously towards the castle.

The others agreed, and together they all made their way up the empty path to school. They made it inside the gates just moments before the curfew, and Professor Sprout – who was waiting at the gates to see the last student in – shot them a disapproving look as the gates creaked shut after them.

They were just heading into the Great Hall for dinner when McGonagall stopped them in the open doorway. "Miss Andrews," she said curtly. Winona's eyebrows raised, watching as their professor shot the three younger students a sharp look that had them scurrying by, heading immediately for the Gryffindor table and that night's feast. Once they were gone, McGonagall's shrewd eyes cut back to Winona. "The Headmaster needs to see you in his office. Immediately."

"Oh," said Winona, surprised. "Is everything okay?"

McGonagall's eyes only narrowed, but not at Winona. Rather at the situation, which made her very curious indeed. "I believe you have a visitor," she said tightly. Winona didn't have the faintest clue who would be visiting her, but from the look on McGonagall's face, she got the feeling she wasn't going to like the answer.

"Okay," she said, a tiny bit anxious at the thought. "I'll head up there now."

McGonagall was still frowning, but she did nothing more than nod before turning and heading up towards the Head table for her own dinner.

Perplexed, Winona quickly turned her eyes to the Gryffindor table, scanning for her friends. She found Angelina and the girls first – but was as the new usual, they were sitting at the far end, away from the boys, and paying them all no attention. Sighing, she kept scanning until she found two heads of shaggy red hair.

Fred was already looking at her, questions in his eyes. She gave an over-exaggerated shrug and gestured over her shoulder. Dumbledore, she mouthed. Fred's eyebrows hiked up, but he could only nod, telling her he understood.

With a quick wave goodbye, Winona reluctantly turned and made her way up the main staircase towards the Headmaster's office.

Giving the password to the gargoyle and making her way up the twisting stairs, Winona paused outside the large, ornate doors. There were voices coming from the other side. She couldn't hear any specific words, but it sounded like whoever was in there was arguing.

She knocked twice and all the noise from the other side went dead. A beat, then the door creaked open, letting her inside.

Winona really wasn't sure who to expect – maybe Mr and Mrs Weasley, or perhaps Lupin? She couldn't think of a single other personal outside of the school who would have any reason to come visit her. But when she stepped through the door and discovered who exactly it was there to see her, she realised that without having a vision, she couldn't have possibly predicted who waiting for her.


A/N: Hey guys, I know it was a tad heavy on the canon-dialogue, but I felt it was necessary to the story. I tried to edit out as much as I could, so it was only original content. Hope you enjoyed!

This week's spotlight review goes to: 3AMPANIC – thank you for your review! I try and make my characters and their interactions seem as realistic as possible. I'm so glad you like my story and I'm happy you look forwards to my updates. I hope you enjoyed this one just as much!