Author's note: Life gets messy and in the way, as you all know. I never stopped trying to write this chapter, this story, it is one I know I will see through to the end. The problem wasn't lack of motivation, the problem was I wasn't writing the right story. It wasn't until I hit upon the right idea that the words began to flow. This chapter gets a little dark. I do not get explicit the implications are there. That being said, *TRIGGER WARNINGS*

Chapter 29

Upto No Good

I woke up long before I'd opened my eyes. It was a strange place to be, caught between sleep and waking, I could hear the crash and slide of the waves outside, hear the soft breathing beside me. I don't think I'd ever fallen asleep in a place so bright, white walls and tall glass doors, so when the sun rose it lit up the place and when my eyes finally peeled themselves open those first few disorienting moments made me wonder if I'd died and this was what heaven looked like. My slumbering love in my arms, her face peaceful and relaxed, and nothing but ocean as far as the view presented. If only my new bride had mentioned her rich uncle had left her a beach house in wizarding Italy a few months ago I'd have married her that much faster.

Yes, I had married Allura Zabini, well Allura Black, now, Well, Allura Kowalski if we're getting really technical. I still wasn't sure how I felt about taking back my given names. For the next year at least I'd still be Roman Black.

My mind and body fully awake now, I gently slipped my arm out from under my wife and walked towards the large windows overlooking the clear water. It wasn't murky like the ocean by the cliff where I'd found an older Regulus. Memories of all the trips through time I'd taken over the last few years kept flashing across my mind's eye, but that one most of all. What had been the significance of the locket? How had Regulus come to find it? Had he really prepared himself for death before I'd turned up?

Crow had been mercifully quiet, I was just starting to remember what it was like to have thoughts of my own. However, the memories of various moments in time were a little unsettling to my current state of being. Maybe I was being paranoid, but I was starting to worry that my mind was deleting my own memories to make and keep room for some of the more random trips through time. The ones where I went to help or see Jules were one thing, but some of the errands I'd been sent on had been nothing short of baffling. The one where I convinced the werewolf I was an angel, for example. What was the point? What was the big picture, and did I really want to see it?

As my gaze lowered from the open sky and bright sea to my reflection in the glass, my eyes came to rest on the mirrored image of the dark mark. That had been an unpleasant conversation with Allura. I'd never really admitted to being a Death Eater, mainly because I didn't support the cause and had initially joined to protect Sirius; but the fact that I had waited until after the death eaters came for her parents to speak up… well, at least I knew for certain whom I feared more between herself and the Dark Lord. Powerful wizard though he was, I rather doubted Voldemort could instill the kind of fear like that of a woman who thought she had been played. Fortunately, I was able to explain how and why I'd joined up before she'd done any permanent damage. Due to my extensive studies, I'd seen pictures of Veelas when they were enraged, but I swear I'd rather face a thousand angry Veelas before making my wife that upset again.

Granted, it helped ease her heart when I admitted to hunting down the Death Eater that had killed her parents, some foreign bloke by the name Boucher, and gave an anonymous tip to the auror office at the Ministry. Apparently he'd been given a sweet kiss by a dementor upon his arrival at Azkaban.

Part of me couldn't help but wonder if Allura's life wouldn't have been better off without my involvement. She wouldn't have had a reason to stay in London if it weren't for me, so she'd have gone traveling or something the second she'd graduated. She could've escaped this war altogether, but instead, she had found herself orphaned and married to a Death Eater. And what if something went wrong in the next year and-

As much as I hate to cut your brooding session short, I jumped in alarm at the gravelly voice in my head, knocking my forehead against the window, but you gotta get dressed. You're needed.

Does it have to be now?! I demanded, even as I crossed the room to the wardrobe and threw on black robes. I rather thought his silence was out of respect for my status as a newlywed. Apparently not.

Yep. Hood up and freaky mask on.

I paused. You mean, as a Death Eater?

Unless you've got another freaky mask laying around.

Shut up. I pulled my hood up and grabbed my wand from where it rested beside Allura's on the desk. A wave over my face and my DE mask materialized in place, shielding my face from the world. Where are you sending me?

I thought you wanted me to shut up.

When have you ever listened to me before?

You've been there before, don't worry.

Crow!

With a tug around my navel, I was practically hoisted forward through time. When the world stopped spinning, I was staring down at a battlefield. The room itself was circular and seemed to be filled with broken things. There were two men in black robes lying slumped over one another, an ominous red stain beneath them. Two other men were still on their feet, firing hex after jinx back and forth. I spotted a woman with hooded eyes who could only be Cousin Bella, dueling with a man I couldn't quite recognize, though for some reason he was weighed down by a large portrait magically stuck to his backside. The woman in the portrait was cursing and screeching just like... Burgie?! Then that man, he's not-

Sirius, yeah. You have to save him.

How?

Take out Bellatrix, on my mark-you have to make this look like Sirius cursed her, and then you can go back.

I raised my wand, ready to strike. I'd joined the Death Eaters to save Sirius, after all, and taking Bellatrix out of the equation whatever year this was was just a-

What the-!

Bellatrix fired a curse at Sirius, and in that second, someone I had not seen until now jumped to her feet and placed herself in front of Sirius. She was half-covered in blood already, but when the spell collided with her, it was followed by an ugly squelch, and then a thump as her right arm fell to the floor. Bella stood frozen, her wand still pointed at the space where the girls' arm had been, her eyes wide.

"...You…" Bella said in a carrying whisper. "It cannot be...You...how-"

One of the duelists from the other side of the room knocked out the Death Eater and jinxed Bella by surprise, sending her across the room of broken things. The rest of the room faded away from my vision as I watched the girl, who had sunk to her knees, hugging what was left of her right arm to her chest. Her face was screwed up and her mouth opened wide in a terrified, agonizing scream. I went to comfort her, to hold her close, and take her to safety, but I'd barely taken three steps before I was jerked back to 1979.

SEND ME BACK! I demanded, a verbal shout of frustration tearing itself from my throat.

She shouldn't have done that… This was one of those rare occasions where Crow sounded stunned. It was always supposed to be you-you're the one that sets me free. You're my needle.

I told Crow where he could stick his needle, momentarily forgetting it was his metaphor for me. She needs me! I'm always there to save her and she needs me then more than ever why the hell would you take me away?!

She did the job for you. In saving Sirius on her own, you had no reason to act. I had to take you away before those Aurors and your cousin realized you were there, in your hood and mask and everything. She'll be fine, Kid. He added the last part in response to my labored breathing as I threw back my hood and dematerialized my mask.

How?!

She's not alone, she's in the heart of the ministry, with capable wizards and witches on hand.

What was she doing there?

Fighting to protect a stupid boy who had no business being there, to begin with. I grit my teeth, trying to summon the name of that Slytherin who fancied my sister. Nah, not him. He was there, though. This woulda happened about a year before she came to you. But why would she protect him?

I took a deep breath, trying to feel assured by the notion that Jules was going to be fine, even without my help. Still, I couldn't get the image of her terrified expression, nor the sound of her scream out of my head. I rubbed my eyes and ruffled my hair, trying to relax. Allura had cut my hair weeks ago, apparently, the Black family tradition of the men growing their hair long bothered her. I thought it made me look like a twelve-year-old.

Kid, she's your sister, why would she protect a man she barely knows? She didn't even know about all this then.

That's who she is. She has an instinct to protect people. She protected me without a second thought when she'd traveled to Hogwarts in 1971, back when Lupin tried to bite me under a full moon. She protects her friends and family because she can, and even if she can't she's stubborn enough to try. For whatever reason, she thought it was important to protect Sirius that day, and you should feel grateful that she's on our side.

"Darling," Allura's soft mumble from the bed caused me to turn. She stretched out like a cat and blinked up at me. "What's wrong? Your shout woke me and you've been staring at the desk for nearly five minutes."

I pulled off my robes and climbed back into bed beside her, feeling an enormous weight lift as she snuggled close. "Crow. That's what's wrong. But it's all fine now."

"Mm," she replied in an understanding but also a sleepy way. "Well, if he's bullying you let me talk to him. I'll set him straight."

The idea that my wife would go to bat with the God of Time made me smile. Mostly because I believed she could win. And that was a very satisfying thought indeed.

He'd never liked mortals, much less so after he'd been cursed by one. The Kid was growing on him, sure, but after everything was said and done, Roman was only a means to an end. True, he'd only been imprisoned for a few centuries, which paled in comparison to his millennia of existence, however; the last hundred years or so he'd been forced to remain stagnant, slowly moving through time one second after the next, when before Time had been at his beck and call, his disposal, his last whim. He wondered if the Sirius Black he'd known all those years ago had realized how cruel his curse would be.

As Kronos reflected on this last venture through time, he couldn't get the image of Julianne standing to defend Sirius III of her own volition. He certainly wasn't there, whispering prompts into her mind, though that time was nearly at hand. He could only imagine the kind of power he would wield once she had agreed to serve as his agent, as Roman was doing now. It was all for the best, and one day soon he would be free…

And these foolish mortals who lay their hands upon magic and thought themselves strong...He would soon show them what it truly means to wield power.

"Are you sure about this?" Allura whispered, daring to peek into the sitting room where we could hear the clinking of teacups and the high, cold voice that was my aunt's terrible tones. Regulus had agreed to sneak me into the Manor but Allura had refused to let me out of her sight. She was much less accustomed to hiding in the shadows and waiting to strike, unlike her dashing husband and the family he'd been raised by. "What if he gets the cups mixed up?"

"It's in the teapot, darling. He's not going to drink, that's all." I murmured in her ear to avoid detection. "Please don't speak until she has. I love you." I had learned quickly that adding those three words to any instruction or correction made my wife all the more compliant with whatever I had planned.

She pouted but didn't reply, not with words anyway. Just as well, it was then that Regulus gave the signal. "Actually, there's someone here to see you. Provided you're in a generous mood, there are some answers we think there can be gained from you."

I entered the sitting room, Allura on my arm. The woman seated on the lounge across from Regulus gave no indication that she'd noticed our presence. Her eyes were slightly unfocused and her body rested limply against the dark green velvet. I seated my wife beside my cousin before claiming Orion's usual armchair, a place of power in the sitting room. It was directly across from where the woman waited.

I suddenly felt nervous, having never done this before, but well aware there was no going back now. I had to know. I only had a few weeks left. Admittedly, I was slightly pleased to see how quickly the tea took effect in her; as the shriveled old woman she was turning into you'd think it'd take a second for the liquid to soak in. Maybe she'd been thirsty. In any case, she was in my power now. "What is your name?"

The old crone spoke in a dull tone as though her words had no importance. It was a stark contrast when compared to how she normally talked. "Walburga Denebola Black."

I released the air I didn't realize I'd been holding onto in relief. It worked. "And who am I?"

"Pollux Alphard Black."

I paused for a moment because that was the name of Alphard and Sylvia's real son… did she not remember killing him? I decided to clarify: "And what is my real name?"

"Pollux Roman Black."

Okay, so she knew that much at least. But then, how much did she know? "Where did I come from?"

"Alphard came to me after it happened. He told me you'd been orphaned after your parents were murdered for their money...they'd been old friends of his—a rich, French pure bloodline...Alphard had been named your godfather and took you in, adopting you with powerful blood magic that made you a Black in name and in blood." I could feel my eyes widen slightly—now that I hadn't known. "So you were the oldest son of the Black family line, placing you as the true heir to the lands, titles, fortunes...an honor you stole from my sons." Her voice was still emotionless, but that didn't make the sentiment any less bitter. I glanced over at Regulus, but his steely gaze was fixed on his mother. It was a little alarming to see such disgust in his eyes, where for the better part of our lives he'd seemed to do everything to please her. I reflected on what he'd told me all those months ago, in a booth at the Three Broomsticks: 'You and Sirius always looked at me like I was oblivious to the cruelty of my own mother…that's alright. I always looked up to the two of you and wonder how you'd be so stupid as to tempt her true nature to reveal itself…'

I couldn't forget. Aunt Burgie wasn't someone deserving of pity, not after all she'd done. Speaking of: "Tell me all your sins."

"I have none."

I flinched, realizing she didn't see any problem with the blood on her hands, figuratively speaking. I rephrased my command. "Tell me about your secret achievements. What are you proudest of? What happened to the first Pollux Black?"

"He was the spawn of a mudblood," Walburga croaked. "He didn't deserve to bear my family's ancient and noble name. He couldn't be the heir to our fortunes, he had to die." From the sofa, I heard Allura's audible gasp. I suppose I'd left out the part where a baby had been killed, but when I glanced her way I didn't fully understand the tears in her eyes, nor why she'd placed a hand over her stomach. Did she feel sick? I told her not to come.

"He was a child!" It was Regulus who spoke, a frostiness in his tone I hadn't heard before. "What happened to him?"

"I organized for a tragedy to befall the mutt. Alphard knew but he had no proof. To live in peace I locked away his memories. All I needed was time to kill that disease that dared to call herself his wife…"

Outwardly I made my expression and posture stoic, as inside I recoiled to hear her cold indifference to murder. Then again, the Dark Lord was no different in his dealings with those he considered to be impure. I glanced towards Allura once again and regretted it instantly. She had recoiled, her face hidden in her hands as her shoulders shook, but she refused to utter a mournful sound. I decided it was time to move on from talking about killing children. Instead...

"Tell me about Alphard's death."

Still under the influence of the potion, Walburga's true nature began to bleed through as a crooked smile cracked her face. "He was always the weakest of us. Never raised his wand to harm another, too trusting of that—" I wondered how many insulting ways she could describe Sylvia before she would get repetitive. "You were the first thing he got right, even if you weren't born as one of us. Still, even though you had accepted the mark, he refused to bow before the Dark Lord. As the eldest of the household, he ought to represent, to honor, but...he embarrassed me for the last time."

Impatient that she wasn't simply answering the question, I urged her to have another sip of tea before asking again, "How did Alphard die?"

"Paranoid in his old age, Alphard was not one to trust anyone but his elf, or you…" Walburga gave a flat gurgle I supposed was intended to be a chuckle. Me? "You couldn't be relied upon to slay the man who took you in, so I tricked the house-elves into thinking Alphard was ill and in need of daily doses of medicine…"

I had to take a breath before responding, her words were starting to get under my skin. "The house-elves tasted everything Alphard ate before he died, they were all unharmed. What did you do?"

"Three drops of medicine, day and night. What the elves failed to realize was the substance they were putting in their masters' tea was elven blood. The magic in house elves you'll find is powerful, their blood is harmless to their own but quite poisonous to wizards… it was a slow death, a great victory. Alphard betrayed our bloodline, so it was poetic justice that he was slain with blood." At this mortifying confession, Allura stood and rushed from the room, covering her mouth with a look of panic and distress in her eyes as she fled. I told her not to come. And I deeply regretted not standing my ground on that issue. I briefly wondered if Crow would let me go back to this morning to convince her to stay home. Or perhaps keep her there with my present self so my past self could sneak into the Manor and host this interrogation. I exchanged a pleading look with Regulus, who did not hesitate to follow after Allura.

It took every ounce of self-control I possessed to remain seated. I wasn't finished yet. I couldn't get the closure necessary if I broke her neck now. "You disgust me, Burgie, you always have."

"We are blood, even if you weren't born a son of Black it is who you are. You follow the Dark Lord, you will lead our kind into the golden age—a time where purebloods finally rule over the scum, the swine, the putrescent." She was still smiling wickedly as I was struck by the best way to wipe it from her face.

"Oh yeah? Well, guess what, Aunt? Thanks to that blood binding magic, you and I are blood. But I'm not some lost orphan from a French pureblooded family no—my ancestors came from Poland, Germany, and Australia. My grandfather is a Muggle. I'm a half-blood from New York. And I will bear the most ancient and noble name of Black until the end of Time!" I didn't recall rising to my feet but I stared down my nose at Walburga as this new information sank in. She jerked and blinked like she was about to have a fit, she hissed and spat like a feral beast until words began to shoot out of her. "FILTH! HALF-BREED! YOU DARE BEFOUL THE HOUSE OF MY FATHER'S?!"

"Every goddamn day," I replied with a small grin.

"BY-PRODUCT OF SLIME AND SCUM!" She shrieked. I almost wanted to laugh when I reminded myself that she was doped up on truth potion. When I'd asked Kipsy to prepare tea I'd instructed that she use Veritaserum, rather than water. This result was interesting. I doubted she'd ever be able to pretend to be regal now. The potion normally called for a drop or two...Walburga had drunk six cups by the time Allura and I left, still screaming her head off. Years later, I'd learn that she had (prior to meeting with me) arranged for her portrait to be made that same afternoon.

Regulus sat upon his bed, the distant echoes of his mother shrieking downstairs an ever-present reminder that his family was dysfunctional at best, psychotic at worst. Between himself and Sirius, he wondered who was saner. Kreacher had brought him a cup of tea and a platter of biscuits over an hour ago, but the tea was cold and biscuits untouched still. After watching and listening to his mother mentally unravel, Regulus rather thought he'd lost the taste for tea forever. He glanced at the pictures he'd placed upon his desk, one, in particular, he'd enchanted to only reveal it's true nature when he was alone. It was the picture he'd taken from his Aunt Sylvia's study; the only tangible evidence that Roman was adopted. Alphard, in his much younger days, his arm around a woman with brown hair and green eyes, holding a baby with dark curls and sleepy, but vividly green eyes. The real Pollux. If Walburga had ever known her favorite son was in possession of such a picture...he did not like to think about the consequences. It captured his attention every now and then, but this evening in particular his eyes were unfocused as his mind replayed a certain interaction from nearly three hours ago.

Allura had rushed from the sitting room to the nearest lavatory, but in her panic and lack of familiarity with the Manor, she'd found a coat closet instead and vomited all over Orion's cloaks and boots. She'd fallen to her knees and continued to wretch, gasp and cough sick everywhere. Regulus knelt beside her and rubbed her back, waiting for it to be over. He distracted himself with the irony that of the many bathrooms his parent's house contained, and she'd missed them all somehow. Not that Orion was in any position to complain, he'd died mysteriously the year before. Glancing back towards the sitting room, the thought crossed his mind: Not so mysterious, perhaps.

Allura wiped her mouth with the hem of a traveling cloak, before leaning back with a slight hiccup. "...Sorry. I don't know what came over me…"

Regulus was 18, and well within his rights to use magic to clean the closet, but other than banishing the stench he left it the way Allura had. It seemed fitting, somehow. He closed the door before speaking. "You're pregnant."

Allura stiffened but shook her head. "No, no, I just-I always get queasy when people talk about blood and murder and…" she faltered at his steady gaze. "...How did you know?"

"The signs are all there, one only has to observe them," he replied vaguely, thinking it would be rude to tell her that she was obviously riddled with hormones, nauseous, and had used the restroom off the kitchen three times while Kipsy had brewed the Veritaserum-tea. Not to mention, while listening to the cruelty of Walburga's crimes her instinct had been to protect the child growing within. He jerked his head towards the way they'd come, where his mother had started to screech-("FILTH! HALF-BREED!"). "Are you going to tell him?"

Allura's expression fell, if it could, even further. Not the reaction he'd expected, but there were a few theories that could explain it. "I...I don't know how he'll react. We never really talked about children...starting a family...I don't even think he's considered the idea, what with everything that's happened…"

Regulus nodded, choosing not to frown. "How far along?"

She lowered her gaze and didn't answer.

How, when or if she told Roman was her choice. But the expression she'd shown him in that vulnerable moment stuck to his mind's eye until the early hours of the next morning. As the sun crept over the horizon, forcing Regulus to look away from his desk and the window beyond, he felt certain in his reasoning.

Allura was pregnant. Looking at her you'd never know it. So she was hiding it with magic, or she was still in the early stages. And it wasn't that she wasn't sure how to tell Roman, it was that she was afraid to tell him. Not because he might not want it. Not because of any reaction he might give at the idea of being a father. That expression hadn't been one of hesitation or apprehension. Allura was terrified. And why? Regulus rubbed at his dry eyes, a soft groan passing his lips.

The baby wasn't Roman's.

*TRIGGER ALERT*

"Celare, Allura!"

Her father's frightened shout came from the front room. It was followed shortly by a loud CRASH as what sounded like the front door was blasted off its hinges. They had come for her father. Allura raced up the hallway to the study where she'd last seen her mother, clutching her wand. She couldn't hear what was happening between the Death Eaters and her father, but if he didn't join them she wouldn't have to imagine the consequences. She collided with her tiny mother who was on her way downstairs to aid her father, holding a kettle and what looked like a fire iron. Allura grabbed her bodily and pulled her into the linen closet, trying to close the door quietly. It was difficult with her elderly mother kicking and swinging a fire iron.

"Allura! Lasciami andare!" her mother hissed, trying to open the closet door with the kettle. "Your father cannot face them alone!"

"Mamma, dov'è la tua bacchetta? Eh?" Allura whispered back. "What exactly was your plan?"

Her mother used some creative motions to make her point. "Spinta! Uccidere! Lontano da mio marito! Only I get to send him to an early grave!"

Allura opened her mouth to scold her for joking at a time like this when the door was wrenched open, showing two hooded figures in masks leering down at the pair of them. Just behind them a third restrained Allura's father. The nearest Death Eater uttered something that sounded like "shin" before grabbing a fistful of her hair and dragging her out into the hall.

Her father growled and lunged forward. "Don't touch my daughter!"

"Li mortacci tua!" her mother spat. The second Death Eater shoved his wand under her throat.

"I don't think you understand the gravity of your situation, you-" Allura pointed her wand at the back of his head and used the first curse that sprang to mind. The Death Eater shouted and fell to his knees, his wand rolling away as hissing boils grew on every inch of his body.

"Allura, no!" her father cried, and she couldn't understand why he was not trying to fight when there was a flash of green light and she heard a dull thud. She twisted her head around and saw her mother laying on the floor, her legs awkwardly turned, hands still clutching what must've been closest to her when the men had broken into the cottage. Her eyes gazed at the door frame, empty of emotion, fire and fight.

"Mamma? Mamma!" this wasn't a time to joke, but Allura found herself wishing that her tiny mother would jump to her feet and start threatening the men in Italian. "MAMMA!"

"Allura?" She awoke with a jolt, shivers running up and down her body, eyes wet and throat raw. She'd been screaming in her sleep again. Roman was hovering over her, his hair a tousled mess. They were in bed. It was the middle of the night. But she was safe. For now. She wiped her eyes and sniffed.

"Sorry darling, did I wake you?" She only then became aware that his hands were tracing over her arms up her neck and back again. It was meant to be soothing. She couldn't tell him why it wasn't.

His normally sharp gaze was soft as he looked at her. "Truth be known you punched me this time," he said quietly. "I think you were brandishing your wand in your dreams... Do you want to tell me about them?"

She shuddered at the very idea. "No. I'm alright now, I promise."

He searched her face, as if a different answer could be found on her cheek or possibly her forehead. "...Are you certain?"

Allura tried to smile but settled for nodding, before rolling over onto her side and shutting her eyes. She breathed deeply, waiting for him to settle down and fall back asleep. He watched her for a little while, which she found annoying but understood his desire to watch over her. Finally he lay down and kissed her shoulder, sliding an arm over her side and resting against her abdomen. For too long they both rested there quietly, awake and waiting for the other to either speak up or fall asleep.

Allura wasn't sure if Roman fell asleep in time, but it was too soon before the nightmare returned.

"Swear allegiance to the Dark Lord, or your daughter is next!" snarled the Death Eater who loomed over her father. He had fallen to the floor and wept over his wife's body, apparently inconsolable.

"Please-! Let my daughter live! She is everything to me you cannot-" he shuddered, then he sat back on his heels, pointing his wand at the Death Eater who had cast the killing curse. There was a flash of purple and flames and the hooded figure was screeching on the floor. Allura recognized the hex and knew in minutes the man who had murdered her mother would no longer be a concern. But that left-she shrieked in pain as the man holding her by the hair cast her roughly aside. She tripped over the man with boils everywhere and fell on her stomach. She heard the body-bind jinx cast and felt the Death Eater's knees press on her ankles. He was speaking, but it wasn't a language Allura was familiar with. She could hear her father grunting in protest, unable to move or speak under the thrall of the jinx. A rising horror seemed to fill Allura's entire body. She grabbed desperately for her wand, which lay inches away. The Death Eater laughed above her, and she felt his rough hands touching her. Her father struggled against the jinx in vain. She could hear the Death Eater's breath, heavy; violating her space.

She snatched her wand up and pointed it over her shoulder, or tried-the Death Eater had bent over her to tell her something at that exact moment and she'd poked him in the eye. A stunning spell to the cornea couldn't have felt very good, as the next moment the man was yelling and clutching at his face. Allura kicked him off and took off at a wobbling run. She had to get away. She had to call for help. For help. Roman. She had to get to Roman! If she could get past the garden then she could disapparate! She-

Allura screamed as the Death Eater caught her by the hair again, his other hand closing around her throat as he held her against the wall. She heard him clearly this time. "Ça ne fera mal que si vous résistez..." She couldn't feel her arms, only that they were stuck, spelled to stick to the wall. She heard him moving behind her. Felt...

When she woke up, it was to find herself alone. The sun had barely risen, but Roman's traveling cloak was gone, and whether he'd left to meet Regulus, do something for the Dark Lord, or go somewhere for the Time Lord, she had a few minutes to herself. She climbed out of bed and moved to the mirror, hands over her stomach. She could feel the change. Had Roman noticed? What would he say if she told him the baby was his? What if the baby came with coloring or features neither of them possessed? When she first noticed she was late, it was the day she and Roman had finally eloped. Coincidental, sure, but she'd be lying if she hadn't hoped that she was only late. Not...not what transpired to be the case. She'd gone to a healer while they'd lived in Italy-Roman had thought she'd had an upset stomach because that was what she'd told him. The more she lied the easier they came to her, the more natural. But she hadn't told him about the baby, yet. That was one lie she couldn't bring herself to say. Roman came from an interesting background, sure, but he'd been raised by a gentleman. The timing was off, there was no way she was pregnant with his son.

Allura stiffened as she gazed at her reflection. She'd never even thought about its gender before. But some instinct told her it was true. She was going to have a little boy.

If she could just bring herself to lie...she'd be set for life. A respectable name for her son. Raising a child was expensive, no doubt about that. Her parents had probably been well off before bringing her into the world.

Part of her wondered why she was so keen on the idea of keeping the baby, given how it had been conceived… Maybe it was the idea of tossing something innocent aside just because it inconvenienced her. Her mother's soul would have a field day if she dropped the child at an orphanage. Not to mention, the love of her life had been lost from his parents, had his adopted parents murdered, raised by a rich but truly abusive family, and was subject to serve a dark wizard as a by-product.

If she let the baby fend for itself, who knows what would become of it. She could try to hide him in some far off country. She had cousins in Italy who could...who could...house them, until she found her feet again. Allura glanced around at the room she shared with her husband. He'd be gone in four months. And she'd be heavy with child. Didn't he have enough resting on his shoulders, without having to worry about a wife who was going to have a baby that wasn't his own? He had another family, an entire future to chase after. Allura had no one but herself, and the boy growing within her. She shut her eyes and hugged her stomach, allowing the tears to fall.

"I'm sorry, Darling…"

Allura had been asleep for maybe five minutes and I was just about to drift off myself when-WAKE UP KID!

Noooo!

Get dressed, but nothing too heavy-or you'll be sweating.

But it's February.

Not where we're going. Come on now. Upsy-daisy.

What's Jules done now?

Quite a bit from what I can tell, but this trip ain't about her.

Will I see her?

Briefly. Oh, and grab the carpet.

The one you stole?

I didn't steal it, I accidentally brought it home with you.

Back eight years in time, yeah. Same thing.

Semantics.

I dressed in silence, and then snatched a rolled-up carpet I'd kept hidden in the back of the wardrobe. (They were technically illegal in Britain but also not the worst thing I or Alphard had once kept on the estate grounds.) I stowed my wand within the lining of my traveling cloak before I took a last look at my slumbering wife. She was whimpering again, reliving the night her parents had been murdered. I wanted her to trust me enough to confide in me, that's why I hadn't performed a full dive into her subconscious. Still, nights where she'd tossed and turned and screamed in my arms I'd done what I could to calm her mind. And sometimes, I saw glimpses. It was due to this tactic I'd been able to find Boucher all those months ago. Now he wasn't a threat to anyone, least of all Allura.

Ready, loverboy?

Ugh. I think I prefer 'Kid' as a moniker. Just a moment. I crossed to Allura's side of the bed and gently kissed her forehead. Then there was the reliable tug around my navel and off through time I went.

I landed at Hogwarts. The full moon illuminated the grounds and the castle brilliantly, and the slight chill gave me to know that it was early spring. It took me all of three seconds to recognize that I was standing atop the Astronomy Tower.

Drop it.

On the floor?

Off the ramparts. It'll unroll and wait for ya.

How do you know how they work?

Puh-lease, I was there when they were invented.

Somehow I doubted this but felt it was pointless in arguing. I dropped the carpet off the side of the tower and watched, fascinated as it indeed fell only a few feet before stopping dead in the air and unfurled itself. It was a decent size, could probably fit five people. On a stint through 1987 a few weeks ago Crow had made an 'Ooh!' sound in my mind and told me to check it out. The second my hand had made contact I was sent home with a brand new flying carpet. I rather felt like Crow had wanted it the same way Sirius would want the latest muggle motorbike. Maybe even an ancient god wanted to be indulgent every now and then. The carpet floated back to me and I stepped on board, expecting to feel the ripples as the wind washed over and around it but my footing was actually quite steady. It lay flat against the stone, waiting for further instruction.

What now?

Remember when you were out with the ginger and that Snape guy hexed you because you didn't listen to me?

Vividly. You wouldn't let the healing potions work on me.

Yeah. This time, how bout you try doing what I tell you, huh?

What year is it?

1997. Here's the basics- At once, images and people flooded my mind's eye, all a jumbled mess at first before I saw what was going to transpire just feet below me, in the Battle under the Astronomy Tower. Just down those steps and I could find my sister, first under the influence of the Imperius curse, and then in the fight of her life. After a moment or two the images slowed until I was seeing with my own eyes again. Make the mark appear.

His mark?

Unless you gotta another dark lord's mark up your sleeve.

Clearing my throat, I withdrew my wand and pointed it at the night sky. "Morsmordre!" At once the skull with it's snake-tongue erupted across the stars, drawing attention to this tower top. Unconsciously I moved back against the door, allowing what little shadow remained to hide myself. I waited. At first, nothing changed about the evening. It was actually a long while before I spotted anything new about the night. A single figure riding a broom directly towards where I was stationed.

Should I..?

Hold…

As the man drew nearer I recognized the long beard and eccentric robes. I also recognized a second broom was gliding along beside him, seemingly riderless. Dumbledore crossed the ramparts and began to dismount, while the second broom parked. I distinctly heard another set of feet hit the stone.

"What does it mean?" A disembodied voice of a teenage boy spoke to the Headmaster, who looked quite unwell.

What's wrong with him?

He just went to that cave by the ocean. The one you and Regulus have already broken into.

And he drank the Drink of Despair? And what's up with his hand?

I'll tell ya later. Shh.

The teenager spoke again in regards to the dark mark. "Is it the real Mark? Has someone definitely been-"

"Not quite," I said just loud enough to interrupt. The invisible teenager shut up out of shock I suspected, while Dumbledore, though his breathing was shallow and his visage pitiful, frowned directly at me. I supposed it was foolish to hide any longer. I moved forward into the emerald light of the mark. Gazing levelly at Dumbledore I said, "It's been a while, Headmaster. You were old before, but look at you now; I believe the correct term would be...fading."

Atta boy.

"H-how is this possible?" Dumbledore croaked. "How are you here?"

I shrugged. "I got connections. Sorry about the mark," I added, glancing up. "Had to get your attention somehow, though. If you head down those stairs, you're gonna find a mess of angry people, so if I were you, I'd avoid going that way."

"Why should we trust you?" Demanded Inviso-teen-boy.

Following the sound of the voice I said, "Because, I'm here to help, Potter." I tried not to smirk, remembering the bet I'd made with Dorcas Meadows graduation day. Turning to Dumbledore once again I added, "Trust is inessential anyway, isn't it Professor? Especially when you don't have another choice."

"Indeed," grunted Dumbledore. "Fire away then, Roman: I'm all ears."

Nosy old wart. Time to move.

I waved my hand dismissively. "You misunderstand. I'm not here to talk…" I clicked my fingers and the carpet rose into the air at once. "You can either come with me or put yourselves at the mercy of the Lestranges and Greyback. Your call, Professor Dumbledore."

The teenager pulled the hood of the cloak down so I got a good look at his face. "Can you take us to the hospital wing?"

I gave him an irritated look. "What do I look like, a taxi?"

"He needs Madam Pomfrey!"

"No he doesn't, there's nothing the nurse can do for him now. He can either die a horrible death at the hands of a horrible woman or he can come with me. Which would you rather have on your conscience, Potter?"

The boy already had a scathing reply prepared, I could practically hear it boiling in the back of his throat when Dumbledore rested a black and withered hand on his shoulder. "H-Harry, help me up."

"But Professor-"

"Roman is a former student of mine. He won't hurt us." The trust in such a simple statement amazed me. And it was enough to convince the boy to help the headmaster onto the carpet. The boy looked around in surprise, and I knew he had expected to feel unsteady upon the foreign mount just as I had.

Speaking in an off-handed sort of way I declared, "I've got the child safety turned on," before steering the three of us away from the Astronomy Tower and down through the turrets and towers. Go to the last place people would go in a fight.

The bathroom?

I was thinking the teacher's lounge would be more appropriate.

Oh. And then what?

Let the old man die. He has to tell the kid a few things first, though. Encourage that.

I glanced through the windows to spot the battle raging inside. If I was being perfectly honest with myself, I experienced a surge of pride watching Jules strike Bella. That had to feel good. I had to bite my tongue to keep my composure as my wicked cousin burst into a one-woman song and dance number. I pointed my wand over my shoulder at the dark mark and removed it from the sky; its purpose had been fulfilled.

Part of me wanted to jump through the window and join the fight. From the visions granted by Crow I already knew how it was going to end. I knew the chaos would go on until Severus dealt the final, crushing blow. I knew that two people would walk away with new, wolfish appetites. I knew both sides would feel like they'd lost and why. I also knew that it wasn't my place to interfere, not even to say hi to my sister; which I hadn't done in quite some time. I wonder if she misses me? Crow didn't comment, for which I was grateful. At this moment in time she didn't yet know that 'Roman' was actually the brother for whom she searched.

I thought about how Dumbledore had weakened himself for nothing, since the locket in the cave had already been collected by myself and Regulus. Honestly, the Drink of Despair wasn't a great choice on his part, though how was he supposed to know the locket wasn't there? I mean, since asking was obviously out of the question.

It's not asking that's his issue, Crow grumbled in my mind. He could stand to ask a little less, in my opinion.

What do you mean?

Before Crow answered I realized that one of the passengers had spoken to me and I looked around. "Sorry, what?"

"What exactly is your plan here, Roman?" Dumbledore reiterated. "Your interference gives me to know that however this evening was supposed to go, you wanted to steer it in a different direction?"

His phrasing gave me and Crow a matched feeling of discomfort. It was as if Dumbledore knew. "That's the general idea," I replied with a shrug. "You and I both know you're running on fumes, though maybe that's something you failed to mention to young Mr. Potter here." Well played.

Thanks.

"Is that true, Professor?" Potter asked, Lily's green eyes wide.

That's something I'll never get used to, I thought with a shudder. Looking at a carbon copy of James with his wife's eyes just felt wrong. So, what's the big deal about this locket, anyway?

It's a Horcrux. One of eight.

Am I supposed to know what that is?

Wizards engrossed in darker magics found that they could sever their soul and keep it hidden away by attaching it to an object or thing. I'm almost a Horcrux, in this form, come to think of it. The soul of a god tied to this stupid little hourglass. Your Dark Lord made seven to try and make himself impervious to Death.

You said eight before? I was trying not to think about his implication that I was in possession of an object others would view as the darkest of magic.

Well, he made the eighth on accident, and as of yet is unaware of its existence. Spoiler alert-it's the Potter boy.

I glanced at him. He didn't look like he had a piece of Voldemort's soul attached, but that was probably for the best. He's going to have to die, isn't he?

Well, look who's paying attention.

Shut up. Dumbledore had cleared his throat.

"My fate aside, I have a few questions for you."

Predictable. "I'm not the one you should be talking to," I jerked my head at 'The Boy Who Didn't Have Long'. "You'll regret it if you depart before clearing the air. You should have started the year with it, really, but here we all are, regardless."

"I don't see why there isn't time for the both of you," Dumbledore sighed. "Where have you been, if not in your own time, Roman?"

Crow used a phrase that reminded me strongly of Jules. I chose to ignore him, although this proved that Dumbledore at least suspected if not knew of the blood-turner's existence. "I have nothing to say to you, old man."

"Then indulge me on my deathbed," Albus wheezed. "You disappeared a few short years into the war, right after Regulus Black's death."

I coughed into my shoulder at the irony. "Yeah."

"Where did you go?" the old wizard raised his eyebrows as he peered over his half-moon spectacles at him. "I can honestly say that the war went downhill in your absence."

"That would depend on who you ask," I replied candidly, listening to the distant singing screams of Bellatrix some ten feet above. "You could say I went into hiding, caught up with the family." That's what I imagine I'll do, anyway.

Uh huh.

I'm wrong, aren't I?

This is your bed, now lay in it.

"Your family," Dumbledore repeated, doubt etched into every syllable.

I shrugged again. "On my mother's side."

"And what sort of connection do you have with Ms. Kowalski?"

None of your damn business. "On Wednesdays we play bingo in the village," I said sarcastically. Dumbledore continued to stare and study me so I added, "I've never been the indulgent kind, Dumbledore. Use what time you have left to prepare the boy for the fate you've decided for him or I will. Keep in mind that I won't be as gentle-and I might forget a few details." I turned my back on the pair of them, and waved my wand to steer the carpet towards the far side of the castle. Passing the fifth-floor windows I spotted Severus stalking the length of the torchlit corridor like the glorified bat he'd always been. Turns out I had been right, seven years ago, when I'd thought Severus would have to grow into his looks.

Potter Jr.'s whispered inquiries were all too easy to overhear, so I made an extra effort to ignore them. Eventually, the carpet came to a smooth stop outside the teacher's lounge, which was currently deserted. The window opened after I presented the correct series of spells to negotiate my passing, I hopped inside to reignite the fire. From outside I heard Potter, "Sir? Could you help bring him in?"

I levitated the old man inside, setting him down to rest in an overstuffed armchair by the warm blaze. "I doubt we'll ever meet like this again," I said to Potter. "But if I'm wrong; never call me 'sir'." The boy nodded, his eyes on the headmaster, who looked ready to let go at any given moment. With the fire reflecting on his glasses, the emerald eyes were masked and I could pretend I was speaking to James for a moment. "...You okay?"

"No." He replied without hesitation. "But it's a lot to take in. I wish I'd known sooner."

He should've been told straight up. Ask him if he feels worse knowing.

Why?

I wanna know who's right, Albus or me.

"Do you feel deprived of your innocence in any way?" I asked, trying to sound casual.

Harry James Potter presented me with the driest of glances, and I had to bite my inner cheek to keep from smiling. There you are, Prongs. "Well, on top of being orphaned and all,"-Wait, what?- "not really."

Orphaned!?

Shh!

"Good. Stay safe, Potter." Wrap it up. There was one more thing I had to say. "Lian Kowalski. She a friend of yours?"

Several expressions crossed the boy's face as he pondered the question. "I couldn't tell you. I thought she was or tried to be last year, but she's been a bit more secluded this time around."

"Well, if I was going to tell you anything that was real, it'd be this: Stay on her side. In the days to come, she won't follow the Order, and she won't follow the Dark Lord, but believe me, you're gonna want her loyalty when the time comes."

Harry frowned up at me. "How do you know?"

I could barely suppress a grin as I felt the familiar pull. "Lucky guess." There was a soft *pop*, and the scene around me dissolved. I was standing just inside the entryway of the estate, the flying carpet had rolled itself up and leaned against the door frame.

"How'd it go?" said a voice from the next room, surprising me a fraction. I hadn't expected him to be here. I removed my cloak and hung it in the closet, moving into the sitting room to find Regulus having pumpkin juice. "Kipsy let me in, hope you don't mind."

"Of course not. It went about as well as could be expected," I answered, glancing around. There was something...different. "What day is it?"

Regulus raised an eyebrow as he answered. "March 19th."

I gave a short laugh, as feelings of worry sprouted in my stomach. I'd been gone for nearly a month. What happened?

Clinical error. My bad.

Allura was probably furious-worried sick, but furious. "Has Allura spoken to you recently?" Regulus did not meet my eyes. I left him to his juice and dashed up the stairs to our wing. The feeling that something was wrong intensified with every empty room I passed. "Allura!? Darling, I'm back! I'm so-" I stopped dead in the doorframe of the master suite.

Something was very wrong. The room was cold as if the fire had not been stoked in weeks. The bed and its linens were pristine, untouched. And anything Allura had brought to the room was simply gone. But these were minor details compared to what lay on the bedside table.

A funny sensation itched at my nose and my eyes grew warm as I walked over, my mouth dry as I silently prayed my eyes were playing tricks on me.

My fingers touched the silver ring and my heart broke at how cold the metal felt. How long had it sat there, waiting for me to find it? How long ago had she left me?