I just want to take a moment to thank everyone reading this story, and especially the people who take time to share their thoughts in reviews. I've had a really awful last few weeks, and getting to read some incredibly lovely things people have said in their reviews has been one of the few positives, so I really do appreciate those people, as well as anyone who has followed or favourited To Be Human.

Without further ado, please read on :)

Thursday 31 August, 1995:

It was the final night before the students returned to Hogwarts, and a large scarlet banner hung over the heavily laden dinner table of 12 Grimmauld Place, which read:

CONGRATULATIONS

RON AND HERMIONE

NEW PREFECTS

Molly had decided to have a little celebration for their appointments, inviting Moody, Kingsley and Tonks to join the current residents of 12 Grimmauld Place for the evening. Mundungus had also shown up with Arthur and Bill, but for once, Molly didn't seem to mind his presence.

"Well, I think a toast is in order," said Arthur, when everyone had a drink. He raised his goblet. "To Ron and Hermione, the new Gryffindor prefects!"

Ron and Hermione beamed as everyone drank to them and then applauded.

Lena watched Harry out of the corner of her eye as everybody moved towards the table to help themselves to food. He hadn't said anything during their Occlumency lesson this afternoon, but she could tell that he was a little confused as to why Dumbledore had not appointed him as prefect. She suspected he hadn't mentioned it because he didn't want to sound like he was jealous of Ron.

"I was never a prefect myself," Tonks was saying brightly. Her hair was tomato red and waist-length today; she looked like Ginny's older sister. "My Head of House said I lacked certain necessary qualities."

"Like what?" said Ginny, who was choosing a baked potato.

"Like the ability to behave myself," said Tonks.

Ginny laughed; Hermione looked as though she did not know whether to smile or not and compromised by taking an extra large gulp of Butterbeer and choking on it. Grabbing a bread roll, Lena smiled faintly. In Slytherin, they usually couldn't afford to be so picky – Gemma Farley and Fakhir Kahn had been uncommonly considerate and well-behaved.

"What about you, Sirius?" asked Ginny, thumping Hermione on the back.

Sirius, who was standing beside Harry, let out his usual bark-like laugh. "No one would have made me a prefect, I spent too much time in detention with James. Lupin was the good boy, he got the badge."

"I think Dumbledore might have hoped I would be able to exercise some control over my best friends," said Remus. "I need scarcely say that I failed dismally."

As Lena came over to stand beside Remus, Harry glanced at her, before asking Sirius and Remus, "So, my dad was like Lena – he became Head Boy without first being a prefect?"

Remus nodded. "He matured considerably from the end of our Fifth Year to Seventh Year," he explained, "so there weren't too many eyebrows raised when he was appointed."

"Unlike me," said Lena wryly. "You should have seen all the prefects' faces when they saw me in that compartment on the Hogwarts Express for the first meeting. And I suspect the reactions of the staff were pretty much the same when they found out."

"Erm, Lena," said Hermione hesitantly, "please don't take this the wrong way, but why exactly did Dumbledore appoint you as Head Girl?"

At least half a dozen pairs of eyes turned to Lena.

"The unpredictability of it, I suppose," she answered nonchalantly. "Because if there's one thing Dumbledore believes an educational institution needs, it's a feeling of uncertainty and instability. You've got to keep changing things up – a different Defence teacher every year, put a three-headed dog in a corridor every now and then. The last thing you want is students thinking they're in a stable and secure learning environment."

There was a brief silence, which was broken by Harry snorting.

Gradually, everyone broke off into smaller groups. Molly and Bill were arguing about his hair, Arthur was updating Moody and Sirius with the latest news from the Ministry, Fred and George appeared to be haggling with Mundungus over goods that he undoubtedly had acquired illegally, Hermione was earnestly explaining to Remus the need for a house-elf welfare group that she'd made up, and Ron was excitedly telling Tonks and Kingsley about his new broom that his mother had bought him that day as a present for his appointment, while Ginny frequently rolled her eyes. Lena, for her part, was leaning against the table, tucking into some pumpkin as she observed Harry drifting between the different conversations.

He'd been doing reasonably well with his Occlumency lessons. Of course, he was still almost entirely defenceless against an intentional Legilimency attack, but the previous night he'd managed to put the temporary seal over his connection with Voldemort by himself. Lena had been worried that he wouldn't be able to do it by the time he returned to Hogwarts, so it had definitely been a relief when Harry told her this morning that the attempt had been a success.

"You're looking mighty pensive."

Lena blinked. She hadn't noticed Bill come up beside her. In fact, it seemed that most people had found new conversation partners and groups.

She smiled at Bill. "Either side gain any ground in the Great Hair War?" she asked him.

He laughed softly. "Still at a stalemate, I'm afraid."

Lena and Bill had, simply by chance, sat next to each other during the latest Order meeting. They hadn't spoken much prior to that, but a polite inquiry she made into his time in Egypt had led to the discovery they shared a mutual acquaintance there. Their following conversations had made Lena decide that she quite liked the eldest Weasley son, and the feeling seemed to be mutual.

She studied his appearance for a moment. "To be perfectly honest with you," she told him, "you wouldn't really lose much by giving into her demands."

Bill raised his eyebrows. "You don't like the ponytail?"

"No," said Lena, "I mean you're one of those annoyingly attractive people who would look good no matter what hairstyle they had."

He chuckled again. "Really? Great, because I've been thinking of getting one of the monk haircuts–" he gestured around his head, "–the one with the bald top..."

Lena grinned. "I take it back – even your stunning looks have their limit. And speaking of gorgeous individuals, how's your Veela girlfriend finding Gringotts?"

Bill folded his arms. "Firstly, she's only a quarter Veela. Secondly, she's not my girlfriend. We're still... getting to know each other."

"Hasn't it almost been two months?" She smirked suggestively. "Exactly how much more of her is there to know?"

He rolled his eyes. "You're worse than Fred and George," he muttered.

Holding her hands up defensively, Lena said, "I'm just wondering if the reason you're delaying making it official is because the two of you genuinely want to take it slow, or because you're afraid of bringing her home to meet your mum."

Bill uncrossed his arms and ran a hand through his hair. "Can you blame me for being a bit apprehensive?" he said, sounding slightly anxious. "They're both quite..." he swallowed, "... very strong-minded women."

Lena shrugged. "It could be worse. Imagine bringing me around for tea at the Burrow and telling your mum we're dating. She'd probably burst into tears on the spot."

"Come on," said Bill, his lips twitching in amusement, "she doesn't mind you."

"As a fellow member of the Order," said Lena. "I don't think she'd be particularly keen on the idea of me as a potential daughter-in-law."

"Potential daughter-in-law?"

Lena just managed to keep a collected demeanour as Remus' voice suddenly came from behind her. She looked around at him calmly.

He was casually leaning against the table, and his expression was unfazed as he continued, "Getting married, are you?"

Lena smiled at him sweetly. "Yes, Bill and I–" she grabbed the redhead's hand, startling him, "are madly in love, and are to be married as soon as possible."

Remus tilted his head to the side for a moment, staring at her coolly, then looked at Bill. "My deepest condolences," he said to him evenly.

Lena pouted. "Seriously?" she whined. "You're not even going to fight for me?"

Inspecting a bowl of fruit, Remus shrugged, and replied carelessly, "I'd be well rid of you."

Dropping an amused Bill's hand, Lena placed her hands on her hips and glared at him. "Remus John Lupin, I am the love of your life, and the sole reason for your continued existence on this Earth."

Turning his attention away from the fruit and back to Lena, Remus raised his eyebrows. "Oh, are you, now?"

"Yes," said Lena firmly, stepping closer to him and tilting her head up so their lips were mere inches apart.

They locked eyes, and after a second, Remus' Adam's apple visibly bobbed.

"Well, in that case," he murmured, removing Lena's hands from her hips and replacing them with his own, " I vehemently object to you marrying Bill."

"Noted," whispered Lena, and unable to contain herself, captured his lips in a quick kiss. When they broke apart, her arms snaked up around Remus' neck, while his arms encircled her waist. Neither of them really noticed Bill awkwardly sidling off to join Sirius and Ron.

But as Lena relaxed against Remus' body and rested her head on his shoulder, she felt a pair of eyes fixed on them.

It was Tonks, and the moment Lena's gaze fell upon her, she looked in the opposite direction so quickly Lena was surprised she didn't get whiplash.

Although it had been nearly two months since the Order's first meeting, the two cousins still had never had a conversation on their own. They weren't intentionally avoiding each other, but neither seemed interested in seeking out the other for a chat. If Lena was honest with herself, she had a similar feeling of resentment for Tonks that she had for Draco. It wasn't their fault – she just couldn't get past the fact that although all their mothers were sisters, Bellatrix was the only one who hadn't loved her own child.

But she knew that while she'd been away, Remus had been paired with Tonks on a couple of small missions for the Order, and another since she'd returned. When he told Lena about the missions, he spoke more about what had happened than who he'd been with, but it seemed that he and Tonks had gotten on fairly well. And in that brief moment Lena had caught her cousin watching them, she couldn't help but wonder if Tonks was slightly more interested in Remus than she should have been.

Her train of thought was interrupted by Molly yawning widely and announcing to the rest of the room, "Well, I think I'll sort out that Boggart before I turn in... Arthur, I don't want this lot up too late, all right? Night, Harry, dear." She left the kitchen.

Lena felt Remus bring his lips down to her ear and mutter into it, "I don't suppose you want to head upstairs soon too?"

She turned her head to look up at him. "You want an early night?" she said teasingly.

His smile was almost wolfish. "Something like that."

Lena refrained from smirking, and said innocently, "I suppose you'll need one if you're getting up early to escort the kids to King's Cross."

Remus' face instantly fell, and he groaned softly. "I forgot about that."

Grinning, she patted his cheek. "Don't worry, love, there's always tomorrow night."

"I have duty tomorrow night," replied Remus mournfully.

"Oh." Lena considered this for a moment. "Then maybe we should head up now."

"Excellent," said Remus quickly, releasing his hold around her waist and grabbing her hand. "Let's–"

"Remus," said Arthur, suddenly appearing in front of them, "do you have a moment? I heard something from a friend in the Beast Division this afternoon that I think you might find interesting."

Lena could feel the frustration practically radiating off Remus. He began to say, "Actually, Arthur, can it wai–"

"Of course, Arthur," interrupted Lena smoothly. "Remus would love to hear it."

Remus narrowed his eyes at her, but before he could say anything, Lena pecked him on the cheek, and whispered into his ear, "See you upstairs." Then she took a step back and winked.

Leaving behind the incredibly distracted Remus and the completely oblivious Arthur, Lena left the kitchen. However, as she reached the top step, she heard someone else behind her coming up the staircase, so she turned around. It was Harry, and he looked distinctly perturbed.

"Harry?"

He blinked a few times, evidently unaware of Lena's presence until she'd spoken. "Oh, hi," he said, joining her on the ground floor.

"What's up?" asked Lena, frowning. He looked more troubled than earlier, when she'd assumed he was bothered about the whole prefect thing.

Harry bit his lip, then sighed. "Moody just showed me a photo of the old Order."

"Oh, that sounds–"

"And proceeded to tell me how most of them were violently killed in the war."

"Ah," said Lena. "I imagine that was quite disturbing. "

Harry leant against the wall and looked Lena in the eye. "Neville's parents were in the photo."

Lena's stomach twisted. "I see," she said quietly.

"I'd never seen a picture of them before," said Harry, his voice equally low. "He and his mum look so alike..."

"I saw a photo in the newspaper after my parents were arrested," murmured Lena. "But I can't really remember what they looked like. At the time, I was just so relieved I was free–"

"Could you fix them?"

Lena stared at Harry. "What?"

He gazed back at her intently. "I know firsthand what you can do inside a person's mind. Everyone says the Longbottoms' minds were damaged beyond repair, but has anyone actually gone inside, the way you can, and tried to fix them, piece by piece?"

"I don't know," said Lena, swallowing. "I don't know what the Healers have tried. But Harry, I've never done anything even close to that. And even if I had, do you really think Neville and the rest of his family would want me to go anywhere near them, let alone inside their heads?"

Harry ran a hand through his hair. "Probably not," he admitted after a moment.

There was a brief silence, broken by Lena saying softly, "If I knew I could do it, Harry, I would have already done it. If they wouldn't let me try, I would break into the permanent residents ward at St. Mungo's and do it anyway. But–"

"I get it," said Harry hurriedly. "I do."

Lena half-smiled, and put a hand on his shoulder. "Sometimes, Harry, you're just unbearably nice."

The corners of Harry's lips turned up ever so slightly. "Oh, shut up," he muttered, shrugging her hand off, but Lena was relieved to see he looked less agitated than before.

As they walked over to the staircase, they chatted about their latest Occlumency lesson. But halfway up the steps, Harry broke off mid-sentence, looking up at the first landing with a confused expression. Lena was about to ask what was wrong when she heard it too – the sound of sobbing.

"Hello?" said Harry. There was no response, but the sobbing continued.

Harry and Lena looked at each other, then hurriedly made their way up the rest of the stairs and to the drawing room, where the noise was coming from. Harry opened the door, to reveal Molly cowering against the wall, her wand in her hand and her whole body shaking with sobs. Sprawled on the dusty old carpet in a patch of moonlight, clearly dead, was Ron.

Lena stared at the corpse, confused. She had just seen him five minutes ago, talking with Bill in the kitchen.

Beside her, Harry croaked, "Mrs Weasley?"

"R-r-riddikulus!" sobbed Molly, pointing her shaking wand at Ron's body, and Lena realised what was going on.

Crack.

Ron's body turned into Bill's, spread-eagled on his back, his eyes wide open and empty. Or rather, the Boggart shifted into another of Molly's greatest fears.

A feeling of nervousness to which Lena wasn't accustomed took hold of her. She was very familiar with the idea of Boggarts and knew exactly how to deal with them. At least, she knew in theory, because the truth was that Lena had never actually come face-to-face with a Boggart before in her life.

Dealing with Boggarts, for some reason, had never been part of her practical exams for Defence Against the Dark Arts, only the written. And there had only been two times in class where the teacher had brought in a Boggart for them to practise on – the first time in Fourth Year she had been absent due to having passed out from sleep deprivation, and the second time had been in Seventh Year when she'd been taking private classes with Dumbledore. Even the couple of times during their travels they'd stumbled across a Boggart, Remus had been the one to tackle it while she had sorted out some other kind of problem. So, Lena's biggest concern at present wasn't that she didn't know what to do, but rather that she had absolutely no idea what the Boggart was going to turn into if she faced it.

But as Bill's body changed into Arthur's, and then the twins, and then Percy, and then finally Harry, Lena knew she had to act. As Harry started to shout at Molly to get out of the drawing room, Lena stepped in-between the sobbing woman and the shape-shifting creature, and at once, Harry's corpse disappeared.

However, instead of something else immediately taking its place, Lena felt something slam into her Occlumency shield as if running at it with full speed. The force of the assault made her stumble back slightly and breath in sharply, but her mental barrier remained fully intact. And the swirling mass of the transforming Boggart – that was only supposed to be visible for a split-second – spasmed.

"What the hell?" she heard Harry whisper, but before she could respond, the Boggart attempted to invade her mind again. It met the same result as last time, only on this occasion, Lena stood her ground. The unformed Boggart began to writhe in the air more violently, and desperately tried to enter her mind three more times, but was only met with firm resistance each time, and on the final attempt, an irritated Lena telling it, "Fuck off."

For a few seconds, the unstable Boggart seemed to expand. And then, like a rubber band that was pulled too far, it promptly exploded, sending bits of the Boggart all over the drawing room.

A fragment of the creature landed on the floor directly in front of Lena. She knelt down to inspect it, fascinated. It was almost jelly-like, and nearly transparent.

"Interesting," she muttered. She reached for her wand so she could prod it, then remembered she'd left it in her bedroom before heading down to the kitchen.

"Erm, Lena," came Harry's voice from behind her, sounding both wary and curious, "what did you just do to that Boggart?"

"Yes, I'd be very interested in learning what happened too."

That was Sirius. He, Remus and Moody were standing in the doorway, all looking around the drawing room with shocked expressions. Even Molly had temporarily stopped sobbing, and was staring wide-eyed at a piece of the exploded Boggart that had landed next to her.

Lena scratched her head. "I think I sort of killed it." She smiled weakly at all of them. "Accidently."

"I thought Boggarts were just supposed to disappear," remarked Harry, looking at the fragment nearest to him. "I didn't realise they could be killed."

"Neither did I," said Remus quietly. "But then again, no Boggart had ever met Lena before."

Remus was roused from sleep at eleven-past-four in the morning by Lena gently shaking him. Rubbing his bleary eyes, he saw that she was dressed and Mortimer was perching on her shoulder.

"What's the matter?" he asked anxiously, sitting up in bed.

"I just received an urgent message from Hedda," explained Lena as she grabbed her suitcase and opened it. "She's had word that a deal between a creature hunter and some Death Eaters will be going down later today near Bergen. Her source thinks the goods are Demiguise pelts, at least a dozen of them."

That definitely was concerning. With Demiguise pelts, the Death Eaters could have Invisibility Cloaks made up for them, which would make the Order's surveillance on known members even more difficult.

"So, we're going to Norway to try to stop it?" said Remus, throwing the bed-sheets off.

But Lena shook her head. "I'm going alone," she told him, waving her wand at their wardrobe. A few items of clothing flew into her suitcase, neatly folding themselves as they did. "Dumbledore needs you here to escort Harry and the others to King's Cross."

"Surely there's enough people here to do that," protested Remus. "And wouldn't it be wise for you to bring backup, particularly if there's going to be multiple Death Eaters at the exchange?"

Grabbing a chest out of her trunk that contained vials of various potions, Lena said, "You're a known member of the Order, Remus. If one of Voldemort's people spots you leaving the country, they're going to know you're leaving on Order business. If it's just me, it could mean a lot of different things, even though they know I'm also a member. If I need backup, I'll call in one of my associates already over there." She put the chest in the suitcase, and flashed Remus a smile. "But I expect I'll be fine on my own."

Remus didn't return her smile. Mostly because he hated the idea of being separated from her again, but also because he was still a little unsettled by the incident with the Boggart.

Lena was uncommonly intelligent, exceptionally skilled, and frankly dangerous, and he loved her all the more for it. However, there were times when those three characteristics worked together to create something truly unnatural, and it was on those occasions that Remus' adoration for her could not entirely drown out a wholly unnerved feeling. Refusing to allow a Boggart to see her greatest fear and consequentially causing it to explode was one of those times.

So, all Remus said to Lena was, "Promise me you'll look after yourself."

Lena paused in her packing to arch an eyebrow at him. "Why ever do you think I wouldn't?" she queried, nonplussed.

Remus nearly snorted. "Because, my love," he said, "while there are many, many words I could use to describe you, 'predictable' isn't one of them."

Saturday 2 September, 1995:

"I am afraid, my Lord, that Macnair's contact never even made it to the meeting point."

Lord Voldemort tapped his long fingers against the armrests of his chair. "Indeed?" he said, his tone mild.

"Yes, my Lord," replied Selwyn, his head bowed.

"Are we yet aware as to why this contact was so rudely absent from the meeting?" inquired Voldemort.

"Nothing confirmed," answered Selwyn, "but a source of ours heard from an acquaintance of theirs that the contact was seen departing for Australia at the same time as our intended meeting."

"A spur-of-the-moment decision, I take it?"

Selwyn shifted his weight, clearly uncomfortable. "We have reason to believe, my Lord," he said, "that he was... encouraged... to leave Europe by a member of the Order of the Phoenix." His voice dropped even lower. "That same day in Oslo, there was a sighting of–" He stopped as Voldemort held up a hand.

"Shall I venture a guess?" His voice was calm, but icy.

Selwyn licked his lips nervously. "My Lord–"

"Lena Lestrange." When Selwyn didn't immediately respond, Voldemort tilted his head to the side. "Am I correct?"

"Yes, my Lord," muttered Selwyn, staring down at the ground.

Voldemort sighed deeply, then said, "How very irritating."

Selwyn looked up at him, evidently surprised. "My Lo–"

Voldemort cut him off. "It appears we shall have to wait longer for Invisibility Cloaks than we hoped. I suppose in the meantime, you all better practise your Disillusionment Charms. I do hope none among our ranks prove to be an embarrassment."

"But my Lord–" began Selwyn, only for Voldemort to interrupt him again.

"You are dismissed, Selwyn. I will see you at our meeting in three nights."

For a short moment, Selwyn looked as though he wished to protest. Instead, he nodded and bowed, before turning around and exiting the small, barely-lit room.

They had met tonight in a small, abandoned cottage on the outskirts of a Lincolnshire village, as they were yet to find a suitable permanent meeting place, like the Lestrange Estate had been. Malfoy Manor would have been ideal, but Voldemort did not want to risk Lucius' position of trust with the idiot Fudge, as it was proving exceedingly useful. Instead, they were constantly moving, finding a new location for the next meeting every few days, lest the Order of the Phoenix stumble across their whereabouts.

Of course, Voldemort still had his own home from before the night of Godric's Hollow – thankfully still undiscovered by Dumbledore or any of his associates – but he had no intention of ever letting a Death Eater step across his threshold. He found the idea of anyone knowing where he slept extremely distasteful.

Once he had heard the pop of Selwyn Disapparating, Voldemort reached inside his robe and pulled out a small, black-and-white Wizarding photograph. It was of Lena, taken two weeks ago by an informant in Knockturn Alley as she had exited one of the shops.

For what might have been the hundredth time, Voldemort studied the picture's subject, who had been captured from her waist and up. Instead of witches' robes, she wore a white blouse, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows, and the strap of a bag was slung over her shoulder. Her long hair was coiled and pinned on top of her head, leaving every aspect of her face unobscured. The photograph had not been developed correctly, so instead of moving freely, it showed a single action on a loop, jumping back to the beginning each time – Lena slowly turning her head from right to left, scanning her surrounding warily. Not for the first time, Voldemort wondered if she in fact had been aware that she was being watched, but had simply pretended not to notice. It wouldn't have surprised him.

He brushed his fingertip against her moving cheek, marvelling at how much she had grown since he'd first seen her all those years ago in the kitchen of the Lestrange house, glaring angrily at her mother. Now, she was older than Bellatrix had been when he'd branded her with the Dark Mark. He couldn't help but compare the two women's appearances. Although the resemblance between mother and daughter was clear, there was no mistaking them for each other. Lena's features were more delicate – but no less striking – and the icy-blue of her eyes stood out, even in black-and-white, capturing the viewer's gaze and refusing to let go.

For the briefest moment, Voldemort grimaced. Annoyingly, it reminded him of Albus Dumbledore. And it seemed that now that wasn't the only similarity between the old fool and his former pupil.

'What happened, Lena?' he silently asked the young woman in the photograph. 'How could that perfect little girl become so blind to what matters? Why didn't you come back to me?'

Or was the real problem that he'd made the wrong choice fourteen years ago, when instead of returning to her as a broken shadow of a man, he abandoned her and fled? Had his pride cost him the only person in the world who meant anything to him? And not just anything – as hard as it was to admit, he loved her.

It was only after Bellatrix had used the Cruciatus Curse on her that he had realised his caring for her surpassed mere affection. Cradling her tiny, still-shaking body as he carried her up to her bedroom, he had experienced both fear and rage on a scale hitherto unknown to him. He had always despised weakness. But he had not seen the gravely wounded child in his arms as weak – rather, she was stronger than all the men and women who served him. She had fought even when she had not the means to win.

Bellatrix had been lucky to escape with her life that day. The only thing that had stopped him from crushing her throat was the thought that it was Lena who deserved to be the one who killed her, and she would do so once the war was won, and he had no further use for her mother.

But fourteen years later, he was still fighting this war, and everything had changed. Lena stood against him, not with him. Perhaps he could change her mind, if given the chance to speak with her, but he had no doubt that Dumbledore would do everything in his power to stop such a meeting from happening.

Voldemort closed his eyes, and ran a hand over his smooth skull. He couldn't afford this continual distraction of his mind. Getting Lena back was not the priority right now. It was certainly useful that the wider Wizarding world had not accepted Potter's word that he had returned, but Dumbledore still had a significant advantage – he knew something which Voldemort didn't. Something very important.

He needed to get hands on that damn Prophecy.

Thursday 5 October, 1995:

It was an unusually clear night, leaving a multitude of twinkling stars in plain sight. Remus glanced up at the not-quite-full moon. It gave him an odd feeling. On one hand, it meant he was only a few nights away from the agony of a transformation. But on the other, it also meant he would soon see Lena again. She had been back on the continent for the last two weeks, but had promised to be back for the full moon. He suspected she would not be staying long, but he hoped he would at least get to spend a few hours with her, rather than Moony having her all to himself.

"It must be a pain," commented Tonks, from her position beside him, "having to remember the moon cycle." Her hair was dark brown today. It was what she called her 'covert' colour.

They were on a surveillance mission, keeping watch overnight on the flat of a Ministry of Magic employee called Esmé Wainwright. They had no real evidence yet, but they suspected she was being targeted by the Death Eaters for recruitment. She lived on the top floor of a block of apartments in Bristol. Remus and Tonks were watching from the roof of the building opposite.

Remus shrugged, refocusing his gaze on the entrance of Wainwright's building. "I expect it's not much different from keeping track of a menstrual cycle."

Tonks' cheeks flushed pink, a nervous giggle escaping her. When Remus looked at her questioningly, she cleared her throat. "Sorry, I just don't think I've ever heard a man voluntarily say 'menstrual cycle'," she explained. "Even my dad, on the rare occasion he's been forced to mention it, only ever refers to it as 'that time of the month'."

"Well, my mother used the two things as a point of comparison when she was giving me the whole 'birds and the bees' talk when I was kid," said Remus. "I suppose I just never found the whole idea of periods as frightening as other men do."

"That must make you a dream boyfriend," said Tonks, then immediately looked like she wished she hadn't. She shut her mouth tightly and studiously looked away from him.

Remus wasn't sure how to respond. Lena didn't get periods, so he'd never had to really deal with them in any respect. But he couldn't imagine that Lena would be happy about him sharing something so personal with Tonks, so he didn't correct her.

He wasn't even sure if Lena actually liked her cousin. She didn't say anything, but he knew her well enough to sense at least some resentment coming from her.

'Maybe something to do with the fact that Tonks got the one nice Black sister for a mother, and a happy childhood because of it,' thought Remus. It was a little petty, but Lena certainly wasn't immune from the occasional petty thought.

Curious to know if there was any mutual dislike between the two women, Remus ventured to ask, "Did you know Lena was your cousin as soon as she started at Hogwarts?" He was aware that Tonks had been three years above Lena at school.

Tonks nodded. "My mum had told me she had two sisters who each had one child. She explained to me her older sister was Bellatrix Lestrange, who was in Azkaban, and that her daughter was a few years younger than me. Of course, she's never met Lena, because she was kicked out of the family several years before she was born."

Remus nodded. "I remember Sirius telling us in First Year that his favourite cousin had been disowned that summer," he said. "He was devastated by it, and I think it's part of the reason he didn't want to be in Slytherin."

Tonks smiled fondly. "Yeah, after he ran away, he used to come visit us. A couple of times he brought James with him." Her face fell. "I was horrified when Mum told me we wouldn't be seeing him anymore because he had gone to Azkaban for murdering thirteen people."

"How old were you at the time?"

"Eight," answered Tonks. "'Course, Mum was probably even more shocked. She'd always said he was basically our only decent relative."

"Now that you know the truth, have you told her about Sirius?" asked Remus.

Tonks nodded. "With Dumbledore's permission, of course. She was so relieved."

"I think we all were," said Remus with a small smile. However, he couldn't stop himself from asking, "But does she still think Sirius is your only decent relative?"

"Do you mean have I told her that Lena is in the Order?" She hesitated, before saying, "No. I... I try not to tell her and Dad too much information about the Order."

"Oh, of course," said Remus hastily. "I guess I was just wondering–"

"If I would tell Mum that Lena's not like the rest of the family?" Tonks finished for him.

Remus cocked his head. "And you do think that?"

Tonks smiled nervously. "Well, no, I don't think she's like her parents, or a blood purist like the rest of them." She bit her lip, obviously debating whether to continue.

"Go on," Remus prompted her gently.

After taking a deep breath, Tonks said, "Well, to be honest – I'm a little bit scared of her." She looked surprised when Remus laughed.

"Sorry," he apologised quickly, "I'm not laughing at you. It's just – well, it's actually very sensible of you to feel that."

Tonks raised her eyebrows. "Sensible?"

"Definitely. Take it from someone who knows her extremely well."

Slowly, Tonks asked, "So, are you saying you're afraid of her too?"

"Heavens, no," replied Remus, grinning slightly. "I'm much too in love with her for that."

"Oh," said Tonks as she looked away from him, her tone undecipherable to Remus. "Right."

Remus watched her for a few seconds longer, before turning his attention back to their surveillance. He really hoped he hadn't just made things awkward. If he had, it was going to be a very long five hours on top of that roof.

Friday 13 October, 1995:

"A secret Defence Against the Dark Arts class?" Lena paused her potion-making to look up and stare at Sirius. "Taught by Harry?"

"Yep," replied Sirius, grinning. "Although I don't know if they've found a place to hold their meetings yet."

Lena resumed adding the Augurey tears to the new batch of Moramortis. "Well, it's not like Hogwarts has a shortage of secret spaces," she pointed out.

"Yeah, but the trick is finding one that can fit twenty-eight kids practising duelling."

They were in the drawing room of 12 Grimmauld Place, Lena sitting cross-legged on the floor as she made her potion, Sirius on the opposite side of the cauldron, his back leaning against the spindle-legged table as he watched her and gave an update on everything she had missed while away from Britain. It was just them – and Kreacher (and Mortimer) – in the house that evening. Remus was on guard duty at the Ministry, and Molly and Arthur had returned to the Burrow once the school year had commenced.

Lena had just returned that afternoon from a reconnaissance mission in Belgium. She hadn't been in England much over the last six weeks – mostly just full moons and Order meetings. Consequentially, she was feeling quite out-of-the-loop regarding Harry's misadventures at Hogwarts, but Sirius was more than happy to fill her in.

"Twenty-eight students," mused Lena. "And some older than Harry. That's a lot for him to take on."

"He told me he's only confident in doing it because of all the private tutoring you've given him over the last couple of years," said Sirius.

"Well, he's definitely got a natural aptitude for the subject," admitted Lena. "I'd say he's probably about NEWT level at the moment, minus the ability to cast spells non-verbally. Did he give you any idea of what he was planning to teach them first?"

Sirius shook his head. "And I don't know when I'll be able to speak to him again, because Umbridge nearly caught me in the fireplace last time."

Lena almost dropped the vial she was holding into the cauldron. "What?" she exclaimed. "How?"

"She must be monitoring all the Hogwarts fireplaces somehow," answered Sirius, shrugging.

Lena frowned at him. "But does that mean she was expecting you and Harry to be in contact? Because I thought the Ministry assumed you were still trying to kill him."

"I don't know if there's much point looking for logic in the Ministry's actions right now," said Sirius wryly. "I think Fudge just wants to paint Harry and Dumbledore in whatever negative way he can, whether that's insane, dangerous, or both."

"And of course, Umbridge is happy to help create that picture in any way she can," grumbled Lena, adding the chopped Mandrake roots to the cauldron. "The heinous bitch." She had never met the woman, but knew her stance on werewolves and other beings that weren't purely human very well. 'Heinous bitch' wasn't nearly as colourful as some of the things Remus had called her.

"I suppose it's too much to hope that she accidentally falls off a tower," said Sirius glumly.

"Accidentally, yes. But perhaps Minerva will just push her, if she tests her patience too far."

"Ah, now there's a happy thought," said Sirius, looking wistful. "Maybe you can suggest it to her at the meeting tomorrow night."

Lena laughed. "I might only know Minerva a little, but I suspect she's already considered doing much more than that."

Saturday 14 October, 1995:

"There had definitely been magical wards placed around it, but they had almost entirely worn off. If You-Know-Who and the Death Eaters had been using the place as a base, I don't think they've been back there in nearly two weeks ago."

Lena listened to Emmeline's report with a slight frown. She was surprised that, by the sound of things, the Death Eaters still hadn't found a permanent base three months after Voldemort's return. Unlike during the previous war, they seemed to be steering well clear of the houses of people like Lucius –undoubtedly, they suspected the Order were keeping such places under surveillance – and instead using out-of-the-way unoccupied buildings like derelict cottages as temporary meeting points. It was almost overly-cautious behaviour.

"I imagine the Dark Marks make calling unscheduled meetings much easier," remarked Sirius.

"But surely they've got to be trying to find a permanent headquarters," said Kingsley. "You-Know-Who can't want to stay on-the-run forever."

"Do we even know if he eats or sleeps?" asked Arthur. "Or is he past that sort of thing?"

"It is difficult to know for sure," admitted Dumbledore. "I suspect he does, albeit on a lesser level. But I do not think that makes our task of finding him any less difficult." He looked around the table at everyone. Their number was only twelve tonight, with Molly on guard duty at the Ministry, Bill and Tonks watching the houses of known Death Eaters, Minerva at Hogwarts, and Moody on a mission. Of course, there had also been one less since the beginning of September, when Podmore had been arrested, after being placed under the Imperius Curse by, the Order suspected, Lucius. That had certainly been a wake-up call for them.

"Well," said Remus, "the easiest way to Voldemort surely is through one of the Death Eaters." He looked at Snape, who was directly opposite him, sitting back in his chair and listening to everything expressionlessly. "There's got to be at least one he'd have no trouble believing gave their position away just through sheer stupidity."

"Those are the ones he takes special care to avoid giving any important information," replied Snape. "And as I have said before, he still has not called a meeting for all the Death Eaters. He prefers to divide everyone into smaller groups, or relay orders through a few to the rest. He is being extremely careful about to whom he divulges what information."

Lena had to bite her tongue to stop asking why, if he was being so careful about information leaking, Voldemort had welcomed Snape back into the fold. How could he not be suspicious that someone who Dumbledore had allowed to work at Hogwarts for the last fourteen years was not on the side he claimed to be?

Arrogance was the answer. Lena had not seen it when she was younger, but she had realised over the years that, like many brilliant men, hubris was Voldemort's problem. He couldn't believe that someone once loyal to him could be turned against him by something so trivial as love. Although, it was possible that her own rejection of him might have been curing that blindness...

"Lena."

Lena started, having unconsciously tuned out of the discussion. She turned her attention to Dumbledore, who had called her name. "Sorry, yes?"

"I asked if you could think of any places that Voldemort might visit recurringly," said Dumbledore patiently.

Twirling the end of her plait around a finger, Lena responded, "Well, I haven't a clue where it would be, but I'm pretty sure he has a place where he permanently resides."

Most of the other members looked at each other, frowning.

"What, like a house?" asked Sirius sceptically.

Lena shrugged. "A house, a shack, a castle, a tower – I don't know. But there's somewhere he must go when's he not... on business; somewhere he lives. Quite possibly, it's wherever he was before the Killing Curse rebounded into him."

"But if he has a safe location," said Hestia, her forehead creasing, "then why wouldn't he use it as his headquarters? Wouldn't that be less risky than using whatever abandoned Muggle building he can find?"

"You really think Voldemort is going to invite his subordinates into his home?" said Lena scathingly. "That he'd stand for that kind of familiarity? We are talking about someone who doesn't allow anyone to call him by his name – a name which he chose himself, and added the title of 'Lord' to cap it all off. His identity is carefully crafted to present him as a figure who is beyond any mundane trappings of humanity, to be above all that." She would have said more, but she could feel Remus staring at her. She glanced to her left side, where he sat. His expression told her that she hadn't really struck the right tone for her audience.

"You will have to forgive our ignorance, Lestrange," came Snape's drawling voice, "if the rest of us are not as well-acquainted with the inner-workings of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's mind as you are."

The sound of a dropped pin could have been heard as Lena slowly turned her head to Snape. In the corner of her eye, she could see Dumbledore opening his mouth to intervene, but she was quicker.

"If you are implying that my history somehow presents a problem for my being a member of this Order," she said coldly, "I suggest you just come right out and say whatever it is that's bothering you."

"I do not think–" began Dumbledore, but for once, Snape did not take heed of the warning in his voice.

"There are an insurmountable number of things about you that bother me," hissed Snape. "Remarkably, the fact that you were the Dark Lord's protégée is not the one I find most concerning. It is not even that less than one month into your time at Hogwarts, you permanently incapacitated another student with Dark magic, and escaped any kind of punishment for it." Other members of the Order, some sounding surprised and others angry, started to interject, but Snape simply raised his voice and continued. "What really bothers me, Lestrange, is that less than two years ago, you almost murdered five of your classmates, and not only didn't face a single repercussion, but are sitting here amongst us now. And the only real reason you've given any of us to trust you is that you're sleeping with him." He indicated to Remus with his index finger.

Snape's words ignited an intense loathing inside Lena. If it had been anyone else there, she probably would have taken it on the chin. She could stand good people's apprehension towards her, even their judgment. But she could not tolerate the jibes and doubts of a man who had willingly been branded with the Dark Mark. It provoked a part of Lena to emerge that was decidedly not nice. In fact, it could be downright cruel, and that was exactly what she intended to be to Snape.

Remus, meanwhile, had slammed his hands on the table and was rising from his seat, snarling, "You piece of shi–"

"It's okay, Remus," said Lena quietly, pulling him back down by his arm, but not taking her eyes off Snape's. "Because you know what? I have done some very bad things. I do use Dark magic more than I should." Her lips twisted into a malevolent smile. "But at least I never joined the Death Eaters because I got rejected by a girl."

For half a second, an expression of such devastation and pain flickered across Snape's face, and his cold, black eyes were filled with more emotion than Lena had ever seen. And then, before anyone else could really process what was happening, he threw himself across the table, crashing into Lena, who had not expected a physical attack. As her chair fell back and she slammed into the floor with Snape on top of her, pandemonium broke out. Everyone stood up and started shouting. For a couple of seconds, Snape's hands closed around Lena's throat, his eyes wild and staring into hers with a burning hatred. Then Remus wrenched him off her and smashed him into the table, only for Kingsley and Arthur to grab hold of the irate werewolf as he tried to punch Snape in the face. He only stopped struggling when Dumbledore put himself between the former Defence teacher and the Potions Master.

Lena sat up, clutching her throat and spluttering. Her ears still ringing from the impact of hitting the ground, she couldn't make out what Dumbledore was angrily saying to Snape. Sirius bent down to help her up, but was pushed aside by Dumbledore –having finished berating Snape – who, with an astonishing amount of strength for such an old man, grabbed Lena and pulled her to her feet. Gripping her forearm, he calmly told everyone else to retake their seats, then led Lena out of the kitchen, not stopping or saying anything to her until they reached the ground floor, at which point he released her.

"That," said Dumbledore, his voice quiet but firm, "was an unnecessarily cruel thing to say."

Still breathing heavily, Lena retorted, "You cannot expect me to just sit there and let him insult me without any response in kind."

"On the contrary," said Dumbledore, "I can expect it, and I do."

Lena stared at him in disbelief. "You're telling me to turn the other cheek and take the high road? And what, Snape gets a free pass to not just be an arsehole, but a total hypocrite too?"

Dumbledore gazed at her for a few seconds, then removed his spectacles and rubbed his eyes. Once his glasses were back on, he told Lena, "Severus is a deeply bitter, broken man who, in his own mind, is beyond any hope of redemption. But even though he feels that, he still fights against Voldemort with us, trying to repair at least a little of the damage of his own making. Perhaps, because of that, I am more lenient with him when it comes to his other flaws – something for which I take no pride." He released a long breath, then took her hands in his own gnarled ones. "But you, Lena, have proven to me that no matter what damage you have inflicted in the past, you will always try to do the right thing, because you want to. And if you fail, you will acknowledge that failing and learn from it." His expression became even more earnest. "I only ask you to be better than Severus because I believe you can be."

Lena's head and chest were hurting, and she didn't think it was just from Snape's attack. "It's just so... hard," she whispered.

Letting go of her hands, Dumbledore gave her a small smile, and cupped her cheek with his hand. "I understand," he said gently. "But when has something being difficult ever stopped you from doing it?"

Just a note about Lena's encounter with the Boggart: I hope it doesn't seem like some sort of cop-out that instead of seeing Lena's greatest fear, the Boggart is destroyed by her Occlumency shield. But it occurred to me that if Lena was able to refuse the Sorting Hat entry into her mind when she was eleven, by this point in her life, she's probably just about the most powerful Occlumens that's ever lived. Keeping a Boggart from seeing her fears felt like a pretty good illustration of this, and that made me wonder what happens to a Boggart if it knows someone is afraid of something, but it's prevented from knowing what that something is. But if you have any thoughts on the whole idea of it, I'd love to hear them.

Well done to firstofhername and laraceleste for knowing the quote at the end of the last chapter came from Hamlet, house points to both of you :)