Black Night Part Eighteen Rated R Narcissa/Lucius, Remus/Bellatrix

Lucius wandered throughout the house from room to room. The late afternoon light slanted through fine windows, falling on the furniture - polished wood, leather, velvet, or the like - at an angle that made it all shine.

He didn't know how long he had been doing this - since not long after they had Apparated to the Mansion, when Narcissa had apparently vanished. She was nowhere to be found - he'd been searching for IhoursI, unwilling to ask the house-elves for help, unwilling to admit that he couldn't find something so precious inside his own house.

Perhaps she wasn't here, he thought, not for the first time. He considered vaguely that it was odd that this concept would surprise him. After all, her sister had just died and she had discovered that IheI had been a part of it, no matter how unintentionally.

Again, he thought furiously how frustrating it was to feel so weak, so helpless. He had hours ago realized that no matter what he did, there might be no way to stop him from losing her. He had found her, or she had found him, and he had loved her. Loved her more than his blood, than his wealth, than his pride or even his ambition. He would have and still would give it all up for her, if she asked it of him. He would burn the house, spill all of his own blood, if she asked it. He would live like a Muggle, if it would mean her life.

It infuriated him that he had such emotion. He should not let himself IfeelI like this. Such love made him only weaker, and would hurt him more in the future.

But he knew that she would never ask such things of him, and that he would never have to be true to those promises of undying devotion.

In an instant, he gave up his search and moved quickly upstairs, to the small altar the family had there. His great-grandfather, Itanius Malfoy, had been a man of faith in God, no matter how rare these things were with magic, especially in those of such pure heritage. But the altar had stayed, because Lucius was unwilling to destroy something that had obviously been so key to his ancestor's life.

He had only entered the room once, when he was nineteen and his parents had both died. He had entered it when he had inherited the house, to decide whether it stayed or went.

The house-elves cleaned, in that room, kept the altar beautiful, and the stained glass clean, and everything looking as if it was new. They knew, even the youngest, that were one of them to break something while cleaning in that room, especially that room, that it would mean death.

Lucius didn't know why he had such strong feelings that the room should stay as it was.

He paused outside the oak door, staring at its bronze handle, which was polished beautifully, and turned around. Across from the door was a mirror, and he gazed into it, at his not-so-neat silvery-blond hair, his cold grey eyes, and the expression of utmost unhappiness on his face. His eyes were the only part that didn't scream emotion, and he tried to make them say something, make them warmer, melt the ice and see something other than emptiness.

But he couldn't.

And so he turned and opened the door into the altar-room, the small temple, to find Narcissa asleep on the floor, her face pressed against the red carpet.

He froze for a moment, thinking almost-frantically how much she looked like an angel in the surroundings. Her hair was pale-gold and so perfectly neat that it looked unmovable, frozen in place. Her eyes were closed and her face was. . .not peaceful, not happy, but calm, at rest. She was wearing a silk gown the color of pale cream, not what she had been before, and somewhere - somewhere, she seemed to have found a gold necklace in the shape of a cross, and it was bound about her neck.

He shut the door quietly behind him, not taking his eyes off of her, and moved silently, crouching on the floor beside her, brushing her cheek with one finger and wanting to whisper something, something he could admit without anyone hearing, some secret thing, but unable to break the silence.

He was so close to her in the silence that he could hear her heart beating.

And so finally, he looked up at the cross and whispered, "Let me love her as she deserves to be loved."

In the perfectly polished gold of the cross, he could see his reflection. His eyes were filled with tears.

***

Remus was woken near noon by the doorbell.

Cursing, he pulled a sweater over his head and a pair of dirty jeans that he usually used for the garden on, glanced in the mirror - "Your hair, boy, your hair is terrible!" it half-shreiked - and moved to the door, blinking off sleep.

He opened it blearily and tried to focus in on the person who was standing on the doorstep as if he belonged there.

"James?" he said blankly. Memory rushed back in quick bursts, images flashing before his eyes - Bella - Sirius - Andry - and words echoing in his ears - that boy who's Sirius' best friend, James Potter -

Suddenly he had an urge to close the door.

James didn't say anything, just stood there for a moment, suddenly looking very out-of-place. Remus wondered whether he knew. Perhaps Lily had told him that they had stopped by the night before - perhaps Spikey -

"Spikey told me as soon as I came in this morning," James said finally. "I'm so sorry."

Remus felt the air go out of his lungs. He didn't have to explain, or accuse - and this was IJamesI, James who had cared about something other than the wolf, who had confronted him, twelve-year-old to twelve-year- old, staring him down and telling him We know, Remus, and behind the hurt and anger and betrayal had been a terrible understanding.

"Come in," he said finally, motioning to James, who looked surprised.

"But -" And Remus recognized the emotion's on James' face, because he had felt them himself, five years ago in a darkened dormitory with three boys clustered around him.

"Come in, James," he said again, and very hesitantly, James did. "Have you talked to Sirius yet?"

James flinched noticably. "He must hate me," he murmured, shaking his head. "No. No. I can't, Remus, I - I don't even know where he is. I talked to Lily first - she knows, Remus, and she's always known, and I didn't even know that she did. I've been lying to her about work for months, and she always knew. And she said you would understand, and I didn't know what she meant. I'm - not sure if I do even now." He looked up, his hazel eyes pained and boring that pain straight down Remus' eyes and to his heart. "Why don't you hate me?" he whispered.

Remus, feeling slightly surprised, and thinking that James ought to know, said quietly, "Because I know what it's like to keep a secret."

James' mouth opened, his eyes were wide. "IOhI," he said softly, his face suddenly almost childishly open. "Oh, God." There was a long moment of silence, but then James said slowly, "But Remus - Ihow did Lily knowI? She - doesn't know about you - about you being a werewolf or anything - I never told her, I swear -"

"Lily's sharp," Remus answered him simply, quietly.

"It was so damn hard to pretend I was doing Auror training when I wasn't," James said quietly. "I knew he'd figure it out eventually, that you all would. But I couldn't - I wasn't allowed to - to tell anyone. So I just kept telling Sirius that my times were different, and getting information as to what they were all doing so that I could convincingly answer his questions about how mine was going, and - told him I was never allowed on the attacks like he is - I know I wouldn't be, if I were an Auror. He's amazing at it, you ought to hear Mad-Eye. Andry and I -" And then his face suddenly closed, and he fell silent, looking at his hands.

"She was going to mentor me, when I was fully trained in," he whispered after another moment, hunched over in his chair, rocking back and forth slightly and still staring at his hands. "When I was done training in Section One with the - with Merilili -" His voice faltered, and his face was flushed. "I still can't tell anything about what I do. It's rubbish. I'm sorry."

"James," Remus said quietly. James looked up. "It's fine, all right? It's fine."

James managed a weak smile.

"Do you want me to talk to Sirius first?"

James' smile became more pronounced, and relieved.

"Would you?" he asked, and then his face fell. He stood, and Remus followed suit, facing each other. "No. I'd better do it myself. I - whatever he says he has a right to. I deserve it."

"Then do you want me to come?"

James closed his eyes tight and hugged Remus breifly, pulling back embarrassed - they were still seventeen, after all, and not supposed to do that sort of thing. But Remus smiled and James nodded.

"Yes," he said quietly. "Yes, I do."

"I think I know where he'll be," Remus said, and whispered something in James' ear.

They Disapparated.

***

Sirius was dreaming.

The world was dark and made of nothing. Of blackness. He was alone, walking on nothing, looking at nothing.

But there were footsteps from up ahead.

He started to run, trying to get closer to the footsteps, trying to see who was running and why.

And he had seen, from out of the dark, a girl of his own age, perhaps a bit younger, come out of the nothingness. Black hair that shone in nonexistant light, a pale face split by a careless grin. She was running towards him with a bounce in her step. Andry. Andry. Andry. Her name echoed inside his head. But she was dead.

Only this wasn't Andry now, Andry as she was dead, Andry as he had seen her face for the last time at the funeral. This was Andry ten years ago, only Sirius was still seventeen instead of seven.

"Sirius!" she said happily, laughing, "I've been looking all over for you!" and she hugged him. She was smaller than him, but did so as if it were natural. Her chin hooked under his, and to hug him she had to wrap her arms around his shoulders. He brought his own up hesitantly, still not comprehending whatever was happening. Then he was squeezing her, holding her tightly, because he wouldn't let her go, wouldn't let her grow up and die and leave him behind.

She turned her head, to whisper a secret as she did so often, but suddenly her voice wasn't full of laughter, it was quiet and frightened but firm. "I love you. Forever and always."

"I love you too, Andry," he whispered, but his arms suddenly dropped, because she was gone.

He whirled around, his eyes darting wildly left and right. "Andry?" he shouted, feeling cold and small. It echoed in nothing, Andry Andry Andry Andry Andry? and he screamed.

He woke that way, screaming, in a London flat with white sheets around him and pictures collecting dust on his bedside table.

One of them caught his eye - a picture of her, of Andry, about fifteen (that's how old she was, in the dream, she was fifteen, he was sure of it, Andry was fifteen). The picture was smiling, only the smile wasn't in her almost-black eyes, which screamed empty nothingness along with him.

***

Bella had made choices she knew she might later regret deeply.

Such as forgiving Lucius Malfoy. Such as giving up Severus. Or letting herself fall in love with Remus.

She didn't know what he felt - at least a bond, she knew, a deep friendship, somewhat of an understanding, and she thought of it as something deeper still, but accepted that he might not.

How many times she contemplated reversing one of those choices. But any attempt at undoing them would be futile. They were permanent. And every one of them might get someone killed - whether her, Narcissa, Severus, or Remus, it didn't matter.

The guilt, no matter how indirect, haunted her.

What if she hadn't confronted Lucius Malfoy, and only let him give the orders? He might have Disapparated before the Khastis Apparated.

What if she had been in touch with Ted and Andry more? Perhaps she would have found out sooner that she was missing. As it was, she probably hadn't found out until Andry was dead.

And there were so many more.

Andry had made the wrong choices.

Hadn't she?

***

A.N. - I must confront several possible conflicts I have been alerted to the presence of from Order of the Phoenix.

1 - Sirius says he hasn't seen Bellatrix since he was Harry's age, fifteen. My Black Night version interpretation of this is thus. Before BN, as my timeline has long run, Sirius hadn't seen her for two years. Between then and when he saw her here, he discovers she had become a Death Eater, and thusly he hadn't seen the Bellatrix whom he regarded as his cousin since he was fifteen. Also - he was exaggerating.

2 - Nymphadora speaks of her mum in the present tense when talking about the packing charms in chapter three. Before catching this, I had already planned for Ted to get remarried - after the point that I'm going to write to. The packing charm and Tonks' talk, by my book, all relates to her stepmum. Not really a conflict, but she also says her 'fool of a mother' named her Nymphadora. Well, humph to that, I say. Shows what she knows! She just doesn't like her name.

And to end off the note, did I mention this was the last chapter of Black Night? Epilogue is next, and, well, then I'll start off on Black Dawning, and then Black Day. Black Dawning is from one year later, '78, and Black Day is '81.