AN: It would appear I have told a lie. There is a part of this chapter that will outperform Mrs Miller's period of doubt in the sadness department I somehow managed to forget about when writing that AN. Other than that, Mrs Miller sends a letter, waits for a reply and then heads over to number eleven, intent on heroics. Hermione is not amused. Also, her Slytherin tendencies and vindictive side might come out to play. (Standard disclaimer applies.)
Thank you so much for the great response to last chapter. I know I painted Mrs Miller in quite dark colours, but it was needed in preparation for this chapter. She's not an evil character, but her belief that she always knows best makes her act in really bad ways sometimes (think Lady Catherine de Bourgh from Pride and Prejudice). Now come the consequences. And I really hope you'll let me know what you think after reading. What happens in this and the next chapter is what I had planned since all the way back in January and have been building up towards ever since. I hope you'll enjoy it.
While still back in Mr Miller's good graces, Mrs Miller waited until Monday evening, when he was away, to write the letter to The Daily Telegraph and hurry down to the nearest post box. Carnation Lane being on the outskirts of the small town was usually a blessing since it kept things calm and quiet, but it also meant the red pillar that symbolised so much of civilised society was a bit of a walk away. It was understandable that they would be placed where they were of the most use to the general public, but Mrs Miller felt sure that in these technological times, her neighbourhood produced enough of the mail to be granted one of their own. Maybe she ought to write and sent a letter to the postal service itself about it?
Looking around whiles she walked down the road, Mrs Miller observed her surroundings, glancing over hedges and fences. In some of the houses she passed she could see people moving about, preparing their own dinners or some talking on the phone and a few talking to each other. They were all going about their daily lives, unburdened by the knowledge that a murderer lived in their midst. To them, a forgotten bill, a call from the school regarding one of their children or their car breaking down was the worst calamity that could interrupt their daily lives. Oh, to be returned to having such a life. Not that she or Mr Miller had ever failed to pay a bill in time or Eleanor or Oliver ever done anything to warrant a call. And out of the five cars they had owned over the years, only one had ever given them any trouble. Still, it was a blessing to have to face nothing but such mundane problems, even if one tended not to realise so until a large one unexpectedly turned up.
Pushing the letter into the box, it was with a sense of relief that Mrs Miller turned around to walk back home. For the time being, it was out of her hands, but she would be ready to act the moment the reply arrived. But what exactly would she do? Would she perhaps call the police? That seemed the most prudent course of action. She would have to find a time when Mr Black was away from his family so he could not take them hostage. Mrs Black was a clever woman, but she was also a young woman, naïve to the harsh realities life sometimes had to offer and no doubt duped by her husband into thinking him the best of men. She had seen enough not to doubt their feelings for each other, but that would also have made Mrs Black even more blind to the man's dark side, and love was no protection against a desperate person.
As she passed Poppy Lane, which was the last street before her own, Mrs Miller had come to the conclusion that she would have to get Mrs Black and Regulus away from number eleven before calling for the police to come and arrest Mr Black. And with her being on maternity leave and Mr Black still working, even if he had cut down significantly on his hours since February, it should not prove too difficult to accomplish.
Brewing a pot of tea as soon as she arrived back home, Mrs Miller began to read the latest chapter in the new book they were reading for D.R.A.B.S., but quickly put it aside. That idiotic society would surely crumble without Mrs Black and in the confusion that would undoubtedly erupt during the week there was no reason for her to return for the last few gatherings that might take place. The Da Vinci Code was at least more exciting than The Namesake, but she cared little for the way the book had been received. The way so many speculated as to the truth of the made-up history it presented seemed ludicrous and the discussion, even though it had been done with a sense of levity, that had taken place last time still made her cringe. She was still convinced Mrs Howard had been duped by the conspiracy spun in the pages.
Knowing she could not expect a reply until Wednesday at the earliest, and that it would likely take one more day than that for whoever at The Daily Telegraph was to handle her request to locate the article, Mrs Miller settled down to wait. She had yet to share her newfound knowledge with Mrs Sutton since her friend had come down with another cold and she also wished to have solid good news before doing so, such as Mr Black's arrest. After all they had done and been through to reach this moment, her friend deserved to be able to rest peacefully until it was all said and done.
Tuesday was consequently mostly spent out in the back garden, taking care of the various flowers and other greenery growing there, all working in harmony to create a very beautiful picture, if she said so herself. There were her renowned bushes of Dawn Chorus roses that needed special attention as well as planting even more strawberries. Mrs Ellison's recipe might be lost to her, but that did not mean she could not create, or at least find, another one that would surpass it and still make her the rightful master of baking using the sweet summer fruit. Yes, a trip down to the local library to have a look at the cooking books section might be a good idea.
Wednesday morning was equally spent, but as soon as the mail had arrived, without a letter from The Daily Telegraph, Mrs Miller changed into more respectable clothes, pulled on respectable shoes and picked up her respectable handbag before leaving the house. It was yet another sunny and warm day and she enjoyed the walk, which was only slightly longer than the one to the post box.
When she entered the small library, however, she realised she would not get a continued respite from the Blacks. Mrs Black was already there, talking to the librarian, with Regulus' pram next to her. Really, did she have to bring that thing inside? Most inconsiderate.
Luckily, her young neighbour stood with her back to the entrance, allowing Mrs Miller to slip in unnoticed. Unluckily, the library was small enough that the sound of the conversation reached her where she stood a bit further in, leafing through a book on traditional cakes, and she could not help but overhear.
"We do have books for even the youngest children, but I'm afraid we don't have any activities for those under four" the aptly named Mrs Reader replied to Mrs Black. "But we do offer story time every other Tuesday for children ages four to six."
"I see" the younger woman replied. "Then perhaps you have some books on language development instead? And maybe some with simple rhymes? I remember some from my own childhood, but my husband never heard any while growing up and we want to do our best for our son now."
Looking over, Mrs Miller saw Mrs Black looking expectantly at the librarian, as if she held the answers to all of her problems. Mentally scoffing at the young woman's ignorance of her own troubles, she went back to her search that had yet to yield any promising results.
"That's very commendable. I sadly see far too few new mothers, or fathers for that matter, being so proactive about their child's development so I have little to offer. But I'd be happy to include some the next time I order new books. Until then I think I have at least one or two titles available. Nursery rhymes should be easier. If you just follow me, I can give you a tour of our children section if you like."
"Thank you, I'd love to if it's no inconvenience."
"None at all. It's usually very quiet this time of day."
When they walked into the next room, where the children's literature was kept, Mrs Miller was saved from further disturbance. She had just located a recipe that seemed promising and wished to try to remember if she had the ingredients at home already in order to try the strawberry jelly summer pudding on display on the page in front of her. Of course, it was too early to use anything from her own garden but there should be some left in the freezer from last year's harvest.
While she waited for Mrs Reader to return so she could help her take a copy of the page, she looked through the rest of the book as well as another, but without finding anything that was not either too outlandish, something she had already done or a pie. The latter would make it too indistinct from the recipe she wanted to outperform, and she could not allow anyone to call her a mere imitator.
By the time she had to reach for a third book she was starting to lose patience. Whatever could possibly take so long about showing Mrs Black around a small room with a limited number of books? Had Mrs Reading never heard of good customer service? It may be a public library, but the same standards of assistance that was to be found in good shops were surely not too much to ask.
It was near five minutes more before Mrs Miller could finally leave the place, grumbling as she did so about wasted taxes and already penning a letter of complaint in her head. She was so engrossed in this – currently debating if she should use mediocre or inadequate to best get her point across - that she was startled to hear her name called. Looking around she found, to her great horror, that Mr Black was walking towards her, that charming smile in place as if he did not have a list of sins a mile long.
While he walked ever closer, her heart began to beat faster and she had to tell herself over and over that there was no way he could know that she knew. To him, she was just the same polite and pleasant neighbour as always and there was absolutely no reason for him pull out a knife from somewhere and stab her in the heart. No, none whatsoever.
"Hello there Mrs Miller" he greeted after stopping in front of her, forcing her to halt as well. "Lovely day we're having."
"Good day, Mr Black" she managed. "Yes, the weather is indeed lovely."
Not the company, though, she added in her mind, while forcing herself to remain in place and exude and aura of calm. She had always been a perfect hostess, no matter what kind of guests she might have unwittingly invited, and this was no different from those times.
"I'm on my way to the library. I just got home and found Mione had left a note saying she was going there. She's always loved such places and now that we have Reggie a whole new section of books has caught her interest. I think I'll be stumbling over picture books all over the house soon enough" he said, his face softening into an expression of fondness while his eyes turned unfocused.
It was hard to reconcile that with what she knew of his past, but Mrs Miller was not one to give in to sentimentality. Even if he did love his family, that did not excuse his crimes and he had evaded justice long enough. It was high time he got his due.
"While that is good to hear, I was just on my way home."
"Oh, very well. Don't let me detain you then. Have a nice day."
With a quick salute he walked past her, continuing towards the library. Mrs Miller also started walking again but hurried her steps in order to avoid being caught up to by the Blacks if they were to return home as well momentarily. Hopefully, Mrs Black's apparent love of literary places would keep them there a while longer.
Thursday did bring the much-anticipated letter and as soon as she plucked it out of the stack, Mrs Miller walked upstairs to read it on her own in one of the guest rooms. It happened to be one that faced the front of the house and as luck would have it, she entered it just in time to see Mr Black mount his bike and take off. Apparently, it was one of those days he took the morning off and only worked in the afternoon. It suited her perfectly.
Almost destroying the envelope in her eagerness to reach its content, Mrs Miller soon had a copy of the article Miss Gilchrist had told her about in her hand and at long last she had the proof she needed. The man in the picture did indeed share little resemblance with the Mr Black she knew, but there were certain lines in his face, including those prominent cheekbones, that were unmistakeable. It was also the same hair and eye colour, even if the emptiness in the latter were haunting to behold. It seemed as if he had spent time in prison in the nineteenth century rather than escaping one at the end of the twentieth. But in the end, it mattered little. He would have to return and if he wished to neglect himself into such an appalling state again, that was his business.
The article mentioned he had killed no less than thirteen people at the same time out in broad daylight and was considered mentally unstable and highly dangerous. The number to the hotline Miss Gilchrist had mentioned was also included and she decided to try it first to see if they still considered Mr Black's case as open and important enough for such a measure before going for 999 if needed. Definitely not 101, since this truly should be considered an emergency.
However, that would have to wait until she could get Mrs Black and Regulus out of number eleven as planed and learn from her when her husband was due to return home so she could call at the right time. Or maybe even get the elusive address to the joke shop he worked at, at long last, and send them there, which would be all the better. No need to tarnish the neighbourhood with an arrest if it could be avoided.
Folding the article so it would fit in the small pocked on her skirt, Mrs Miller then went for the front door. On her way down the stairs she called that she would just go out for a while, so that Mr Miller, who was mulling over a crossword puzzle in the sitting room, could hear her. It was then the work of a minute to pull on a pair of loafers and cross the street.
It took far longer for Mrs Black to respond to the doorbell, or maybe it just seemed that way in her impatience. When the door finally did open, she simply brushed past the young woman in order to get inside. Time was of the essence.
"Mrs Miller, what are you doing here?"
"I am sorry, but there is no time for pleasantries at this time. Where is Regulus?"
"In the sitting room where I just had to leave him because you've decided to show up for whatever reason."
Ignoring the rudeness, Mrs Miller immediately set off down the hallway, Mrs Black following her.
"Look, I want to know why've you just come barging in here- hey! What are you doing?! Put my son back down!"
Having secured the baby into her arms from his position of lying on his belly on a soft blanket on the floor, Mrs Miller turned back around, ready to leave this house for the last time while it was still owned by the Blacks. Mrs Black had gone from looking irritated to angry, but she knew that as soon as she had explained everything, it would be replaced by fear. After that, it was only a matter of time before the young woman would thank her for saving her.
"We need to leave right now. You are in great danger if you stay here. Your husband-"
"I said, put. My. Son. Back. Down" Mrs Black said, seething with fury.
Mrs Miller took an involuntary step backwards.
Could she perhaps have miscalculated? Could Mrs Black, despite her young age, be fully aware of her husband's foul deeds and support them? Could she maybe even be capable of murder herself? The thoughts were whizzing through Mrs Miller's mind at an alarming speed, but it all boiled down to the growing sensation that she had just made a colossal mistake in coming here.
"Are you deaf?! Put! Down! My! Son! Now!"
Regulus started crying then, startling her so badly she almost dropped him. However, before she could secure him to her chest again, he was pulled out of her arms as if by invisible hands and soared right into his mother's arms. The experience made Mrs Miller doubt whether or not she was awake, and she blinked her eyes so much in confusion that she did not become aware of the strange stick in Mrs Black's right hand before it was pointed right at her. A strange word that sounded like Incarcerous left the woman's pursed lips and suddenly ropes sprang out of the tip of the stick and quickly snaked their way around her. By the quickness with which they pulled her limbs together, Mrs Miller would have fallen to the floor, incapable of catching herself, had not some invisible force taken hold of her as well and floated her into one of the armchairs.
"Wh- what- what is happening?!"
"Nothing you haven't brought upon yourself" came Mrs Blacks reply.
It was cold enough to send a chill down her spine that could rival the one the older Mr Malfoy had produced. Mrs Miller felt like a helpless fly caught in a spider's web and while her mind had trouble piecing this crazy reality together her instincts were screaming at her to run. To flee for her life. But there was no escape. No matter how much she struggled against the ropes, they would not yield in the least and with no outlet for the rapidly growing amount of adrenaline in her body, Mrs Miller was on the way to work herself into hysterics.
Meanwhile, Mrs Black seemed to have forgotten about her existence while she was calming down her son, gently swaying on the spot while she caressed his head and sang to him. Strangely enough, it did have something of a calming effect on Mrs Miller as well, and she managed to overcome her body's reaction enough to take control of her mind again. For there was no way the young mother would harm her while holding her baby. Right?
"I demand that you let me go this instant and that you explain all of this and then I am calling the police."
"There will be no calling the police, Mrs Miller."
"What? Are you going to kill me then?" she asked with an amount of faked bravado that surprised even herself.
"No one will die here today, you foolish woman. Whatever gave you that impression?" Mrs Black said, finally looking up at her again.
"I came here to warn you that you are married to a murder and find myself tied up. What else do you expect me to think?"
Mrs Black blinked at her before breaking out in laughter. Only the fact that Regulus' cries started back up seemed to stop her, and she calmed her son once more before speaking again.
"What makes you think Sirius is a murderer?" the younger woman asked, looking genuinely curious about the answer.
"I have an article from 1993 that not only mentions him by name as an escaped convict who killed no less than thirteen people, but also included a photo of him."
"I see. We did wonder if that story would resurface somewhere in all of this, but he was insistent on leading you down that road anyway" Mrs Black replied after a heavy sigh.
"What are you talking about? Leading me down what road?"
The young woman simply looked at her for a long while before she replied. Mrs Miller felt as if her very soul had been pierced and all of her secrets had been laid bare before Mrs Black in that time and once more felt her muscles urge her to make a run for it.
"You know, your one saving grace in all of this is that you're married to a man you don't deserve. I have no idea what Ernest sees in you, but he does honestly love you, and for that I decided some time back to not exact my vengeance to the extent I had planned."
"Vengeance?" Mrs Miller asked in a faint voice, unable to comprehend what was going on. "I have never met you before you moved here, even if I must admit I have found something about you distantly familiar for a long time."
In order to preserve her sanity, and possibly also her life no matter what Mrs Black said about no one dying, Mrs Miller forced her mind to ignore the that she sat tied up by ropes that had appeared as if by magic and bound her in the same manner. First of all, she needed to talk her way out of this situation and then she could demand answers. And call the police. Clearly, both Mr and Mrs Black needed to be arrested.
"While it's not me personally you've wronged, I feel perfectly within my right to punish you for what you did to those who had no means to defend themselves."
Still drawing a blank in regard to what the woman could be talking about, Mrs Miller could only sit and stare at her while she went and sat down opposite her, Regulus still in her arms and the stick in her hand. If she did not know better, she would have sworn it must be a wand, but magic did not exist. And no matter whatever trouble she was having with explaining what was going on this was still real life, so it was simply impossible. There was a perfectly logical explanation to it all somewhere. She just had not found it yet.
"I can see you still don't get it, but I hadn't expected more to be honest. So, I'll tell you a story about a little girl who loved her nana and grandpa very much. You see, they were the kindest people in that little girl's life. Her parents were working a lot and she had trouble making friends because she was different in more than one way. But her nana always had time to sit the little girl on her lap and tell her wonderful stories and fairy tales to make her forget how sad she was. And her grandpa always snuck her sweets when her parents weren't looking. Both of the parents were dentists you see, so most candy was forbidden in the little girl's home."
Mrs black made a short pause to kiss her son's brow and murmur something to him after he had stirred from his half slumber, her demeanour going so soft and loving for a moment Mrs Miller felt sudden hope of being able to escape from this unscathed. It was short-lived, however, as those brown eyes hardened again when they rose back up to meet hers, nothing but contempt in them.
"But one day the grandpa died, and the nana told fewer and fewer happy stories. In fact, she even started telling some sad stories. And there was one in particular that turned out to not even be made up but something the nana had experienced many years earlier. But it was the little girl's mother who revealed the truth of it after the nana had also passed away. Because when the mother had been a girl herself, she and her parents had moved into a big beautiful house in a place where many other mothers and fathers lived with their children. They were so happy. But some of the mothers decided that the nana and grandpa were different for some reason and that they could not live in that beautiful house. Especially one mother who had moved in shortly after them. The nana and grandpa tried to learn to be the same as everyone else, but nothing could make this woman happy and she started lying about them instead. She said that they did not love each other. That the grandpa secretly loved another woman instead. After a while everyone else believed the lies and the nana and grandpa knew they had to leave. Not because they wanted to, but because their happiness had been stolen and would never be found there again."
A short pause followed as the young woman swallowed hard. Mrs Miller could do nothing but sit in silence, however, for some reason wanting to hear the rest of it before continuing her protest of the absurd situation.
"So, they found a different house in a town far away. That house was also beautiful, but it was not the same. And the nana never forgot the Ferdinand Pichard roses the grandpa had planted in the front garden of that house for her, but that they also had to leave behind. She said they were the most beautiful flowers in the world, but she could not plant any new ones because it would hurt too much."
Mrs Black's voice wavered and her eyes had taken on a sheen of unshed tears by then. Mrs Miller closed her own in realisation. At first, she had wondered why she was forced to listen to this strange tale, but the mention of the roses had made it all click.
"And as that little girl grew older she started being able to read between the lines in that story and also be able to look back and see the pain in her nana's eyes whenever she had told it and knew that she had been dealt a wound so deep it never fully healed. The little girl then went on to experience a lot of hurt herself when she entered a new world on her own. A world where she was still seen as not only different but also inferior by some, but for the first time she also found true friends. And even if she did not know it for many years, she also found the love of her life."
That same soft and loving expression returned for a moment, while Mrs Black eyes grew distant as if she pictured another time and place. It was not hard to guess who she saw there.
"When at last her own hurts had come to an end and she was happily married it was time to find a home where she could start a family of her own. So, she and her husband began searching and as if by chance a house she recognised from photos her mother had shown her crossed their path. It was that very same house that had caused her nana and grandpa first so much joy and then so much grief and the young woman knew that this was it. She was going to reclaim what had been lost. But even before they moved in, they found out that the woman who was responsible for her grandparents' misery still lived there. However, that did not deter them. No. In fact, they decided that it was only fair that this time, she be the one driven out of the neighbourhood. They would make sure she disliked them, but never behaved so as to make the rest of their new neighbours feel the same, but rather come to like them better than her. They would make sure she saw and met their family and friends and even send her on a wild goose chase after the husband's criminal past since they knew she wouldn't be able to find any of it. Well, at least save for that one news story from over a decade ago. And I can see that you've understood, Mrs Miller, but even so, I'll ask you. What were the names of the nana and grandpa?"
A lump had formed in Mrs Miller's throat and she had to swallow a few times before words could come out. In that time, she looked at Mrs Black and realised why there was a sense of familiarity about her. She had the same nose and mouth as her grandmother and mother as well as her grandfather's eyes.
"Helen and Richard Saunders" she replied in a muted voice.
"Yes. Two of the best people who ever lived, and you decided they were not worthy of living here, along with scum like you. Spread lies about them and turned everyone against them until they could do nothing but leave. What right did you have to do that to them? How can you possibly defend yourself?"
"I- I knew they would not be happy here, with people who were so above them in both status and manners" she replied, pleading for the other woman to understand.
"It's truly sad you believe that. That instead of embracing them, teaching them the ways of the middleclass and helping them become a part of it, you ostracised them. And yes, I know you were not alone in doing so. Mrs Sutton was as much your co-conspirator then as she is now and by the looks of it even less inclusive than you are. But out of the two of you, you are the only who takes initiative, Mrs Miller. You are the one who takes it from gossip to action."
"But were they not happier in their new house? Did I not do them a favour by encouraging them to find somewhere else where they could be accepted for who they were?"
"Favour" Mrs Black practically spat out. "You are delusional if you truly think that. The neighbourhood they moved into might not have been exclusively middleclass like this is, but there were many families who were and never had any trouble accepting and befriending them. And that means the problem was not them, but you and your intolerance, Mrs Miller. If you had not moved here, they would have been perfectly happy to stay here all their lives."
"What… what are you going to do about it then?" Mrs Miller asked, knowing the moment of truth had arrived.
Despite the sleeping baby in her arms, Mrs Black had never looked more intimidating and Mrs Miller shrank back. The sense of being tangled up in a spiderweb was back in full force and any plea for mercy would fall on deaf ears. There was a hardness to those brown eyes that stared her down that would suffer no excuses.
"Like I said, my plan was initially to drive you out of the neighbourhood by making you paranoid and turning it against you. But then Sirius got to know Ernest and they got along so great, and I did not wish to punish him along with you. Instead, what I have decided to do is to change this neighbourhood one house at a time until it's full of people like us."
"You mean your family and friends?"
Mrs Black suddenly smiled in a way that sent a second chill down Mrs Miller's spine. The best way she could describe it was a Cheshire Cat grin and it did not bode well.
"I will let you in on a little secret, Mrs Miller. One that you would die to share, but unable to because if you did, people would think you mad. I guess I will make that part of your punishment, though in all honesty, it might not matter for much longer depending on what Sirius finds out today."
"You are mad" Mrs Miller said, feeling she was nearing another breaking point. This whole situation needed to end right now. She needed to get back home and brew so much tea she could drown herself in it.
"No, I'm a witch."
"A- a what?"
"A witch. Not so difficult to understand is it. See this?"
She lifted her right hand, the stick still held in a tight grip, swished it around and said a strange word that sounded something like Avis. Suddenly, a small flock of birds appeared out of it and started to circle around the room. Another swish and they were gone.
"And this is what will happen now. You will stop spreading rumours about the Joneses. They are good people and I won't let you do to them what you did to my grandparents. Not that you have the influence needed to pull it off any longer. You will also stop trying to make me and Sirius leave, because we won't. And when the Potters move into number seven, you won't be hostile to them in any way. I don't expect you to try to make friends with us, but if you fall back into bad habits, I swear I will make you pay. Lastly, I will say that Sirius did spend time in a prison that was hell on earth for murders he did not commit, so you can put that little investigation to rest as well. I don't know how you managed to get a hold of that article but calling the police would do you no good since his record's been expunged and his innocence made known to the pertinent people."
Slumping in defeat, Mrs Miller had to admit she had been thoroughly bested in a fight she had not even known she was involved in. This whole time she had thought it was all a simple matter of making the Blacks feel unwelcome, but they had played the same game against her and much more effectively. Only Mrs Sutton remained her ally while everyone else seemed to vary from liking and respecting the Blacks to adoring them.
Then, something Mrs Black said registered with her and with a gasp she looked back up at the young woman who was twirling her wand – for that is what it must be – between her fingers.
"The Potters are moving in?"
"Yes. They signed the papers yesterday. Of course, the twins wanted to buy the place and live together with their families there, seeing how much fun they though it was to rile you up the one chance that had to do so, but their wives put their combined feet down. Instead, they'll take the next two houses that become available. After that, who knows. We might be able to persuade Remus to move into a mu- eh, nonmagical neighbourhood or maybe Bill and Fleur would be interested. And that's just from our closest circle of friends. You see, we're a bit famous in the magical world-"
"Magical world?" Mrs Miller squeaked.
"Oh, yes. You didn't think I was the only one, did you? No, Sirius is as magical as I am and comes from a very long line of wizards and witches. Why do you think you couldn't find any information on his family or the Malfoys, hm? It's because they've lived separated from you nonmagicals for centuries and made sure to destroy as much evidence as possible of their existence when that split happened."
Just then the front door opened and Mr Black could be heard.
"Mione, love, I'm home!"
"In here, dear!"
The sudden normalcy of the situation was so jarring it made Mrs Miller's head spin. A few seconds later the man came into view but stopped in his tracks when he caught sight of her where she sat bound in one of the armchairs.
"Eh, my love, I know we planned to make life difficult for her, but don't you think you've taken it a bit far?"
"Not at all. She came barging in here, having found an article about you from '93 and was determined to get me and Regulus out of the house. When she grabbed him and wouldn't let go, I had to take a few measures to stop her."
"Is Reggie alright?" Mr Black asked, suddenly sounding worried and rushing over to his wife and son, looking them over.
"He's fine. Got a bit upset but I calmed him down. And then I told Mrs Miller everything."
"Everything?"
"Everything."
Husband and wife looked at each other for a while and Mrs Miller thought some kind of silent communication might be taking place. Who knew what was possible if they were both magical.
"Ah. I see" Mr Black said at last and bent down and gave his wife a quick kiss. "Then have I got some news for you."
"You did manage to repair it then?"
"I did" Mr Black replied, looking giddy all of a sudden.
"And it's as you thought?"
"It is."
"Then by all means, you better go and get Ernest. I'll go and put the kettle on, and Mrs Miller can wait here as she is."
"Excellent plan, my love. And you should tell the Malfoys about this next time they come over. Even old Lucius might admit to some grudging respect for you."
"I'm quite sure he already approves of the whole scheme, even if he might also think it's a waste of time to exact such slow vengeance against muggles. Besides, "Mrs Black said, suddenly grinning, "you know he adores me."
"You're right. It's a good thing he's on thin enough ice with the Ministry to not try to create a shortcut for you."
While they spoke, Mrs Black stood up and walked around her armchair to join her husband on his way out of the room. Mrs Miller wanted nothing more than to protest but knew it would make no difference. Besides, if Mr Miller was coming over soon he could not only help her, but would at long last be convinced that the Blacks were bad people. Right?
Next chapter: Mr Miller learns some new things too, family ties are tested and the twins might not be the next to move into the neighbourhood after the Potters after all as someone unexpected gets pushed to the front of the queue.
