A/N: As usual, the Rainzzi here is not the same as the one in Nobody's Home.

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Chapter 10 – The First 'Date'
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Rainzzi kicked the door close, inwardly cursing her inexorable misfortune. First came Lestrange. Second came the Fudges.

Having excused herself from the dinner her family had with the Fudges, she came home at mid-evening only to discover that the Fudges were still there. But curiously, her attendance seemed to be very unwelcome, for they had stopped their conversation as the same instant as she had stepped into the house, and did not resume it until she had gone upstairs.

She tossed her cloak to a far corner moodily. As much as she hated to admit, the two families appeared to be in a much closer bound, and they had recently developed the habit of meeting surreptitiously. Not that the meetings between the current Minister and the ex-Minister should by any means suspected, but Rainzzi was rather dazed by their rare secretiveness since the Delanuits and the Fudges used to be that most high-profile families in the Wizarding World. She sat on the edge of her bed, guessing hard what it was that they kept from her. Basically it could be anything, the two families were probably figuring a way to help the Fudges to bring back old popularity, but she failed to arrive at a satisfactory reason for their sudden denial of her.

As an afterthought, Rainzzi strode soundlessly to the nearest wall and glued her ear to it. She could hardly make out what they were discussing downstairs.

"…comes as a surprise to everybody and diverts the attention from…"

"…probably promotes optimism throughout the…"

Suddenly, the distant voices were blocked by the new occurrence of the sound of footsteps which were consistently growing louder and louder. A moment later, the door to Rainzzi's room snapped open with a little crack. She quickly stood up from her spot when there came the most disgusting figure through the opened doorway. Brice Fudge entered her room uninvited with what like a patronizing gesture.

"I'd appreciate it if you knocked before entering my room uninvited," Rainzzi said snappishly. Brice looked at her with raised eyebrows, and then a knowing smile crept into his face. "Perhaps it's true, especially when you have been eavesdropping."

Rainzzi watched it when Brice closed the door. And thank god, he didn't come any closer to her. "What were you lots talking downstairs?"

"If you were so desperate to know, why didn't you come back earlier?" he said lazily, leaning on her wardrobe, "Perhaps…you have been too busy screwing your ex-fiancé?"

"Were you discussing ways to win creditability for your dear father?" she scowled, ignoring his last question.

"Not merely that," he replied bluntly, and paused. "You don't seriously consider your family as one so altruistic, do you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, yes, your mother has been my father's backseat driver, it's not like she would have been so concerned if it's something as pure and simple as what you suggested, right?" Brice stopped dramatically and enjoyed Rainzzi's eagerness for a few seconds before he started talking again, "Anyway, I am afraid I have to keep it from you in the meantime as to avoid spoiling the fun. But I'll tell you one thing: a boost for optimism is all we need."

Rainzzi stared at him for a moment, slowly digesting his vague words. A boost for optimism? Did the two families really think they can seek a boost for optimism…at the reappearance of Voldemort-the darkest ever wizard that existed? That just didn't make any sense. She was about to ask what the hell he was talking about, but she halted before the words slipped from her mouth. Instead, Rainzzi shrugged, she knew that he was just making a fuss and leading her on, trying to make her plead for revelation, but she was so not going to satisfy him. "Whatever. By the way, what're you doing here?"

"Your parents asked me to stay for the night," said Brice blithely.

"Not surprising news," Rainzzi said, looking nonchalant, "You know what to do." It was an agreed rule between Rainzzi and Brice that when the parents of either of them asked the other to stay at their house for the night, he/she would play along with it but secretly spend the night elsewhere and return at breakfast time to make an appearance.

Rainzzi waited for the moment when he would Disapparate to god-knew-where and she would have the room to herself again, however he didn't. "I don't care if you ended up in bed with a million women, as long as you return tomorrow morning by breakfast time." Rainzzi's voice was filled with sarcasm but she didn't bother to oust it.

"That's what I thought I was going to do," he said lightheartedly, "but then, I think I may just stay." Brice grinned shamelessly as Rainzzi squinted at him with a spasm of dismay. If there was one thing that he always achieved with distinction, it's getting on her nerves.

He strolled to her bed and sprawled on it comfortably with closed eyes as though he had been there for his whole life. Rainzzi stared at him suspiciously, narrowing her eyes until they were nothing more than two thin lines. Something in his uncharacteristic manners told her he was up to something, but she couldn't quite specify what.

"Come on," Rainzzi sighed calmly, making her way to him, "Just get your arse out of my bed and spend your long night in the sea of whores."

Brice still had his eyelids clamped together and his expression was so impassive that it was difficult to judge whether he had heard her or not. "Wake up, Brice!" she said as she nudged his legs a little harder than she could control. "Brice!" she practically shouted in his face as she grabbed his collar and tried to pull him up from her bed. All of a sudden, Brice snapped open his eyes and glared with such a dazzling glint in his eyes that she thought he was going to slap her.

But he didn't. He did something much worse.

With a swift manoeuvre, he swept her onto the bed next to him and rolled over on top of her. He propped himself up a bit from her with his arm and stared at her firmly with nothing but lust and greed. "Woman, you're too ironic," he said quietly.

"Piss off before I make you to!" she warned breathlessly as she struggled to free herself from under him. She felt a shiver run through her vein as he brought his face closer.

"But I happen to like ironic women." Rainzzi flinched slightly as his rough hand stroked its way up from her shoulder to her cheek. "You're also beautiful, Rainzzi," he whispered in her ear.

"Stop fucking around, Fudge!" she hissed crisply through gritted teeth as she shifted as far away from him as his weight allowed.

"Tuh, tuh…Rainzzi…Can you not see that I am not fucking around?" Brice laughed savagely in exhilaration as his eyes darted down to her chest and back again. His hand stuck into her shirt and landed on her stomach, slowly making its way up. "I am just going to fuck you," he breathed into her face as he leaned further down. But a second later, he stopped as he could feel the tip of a wand pointing his throat.

"Try me," Rainzzi said tranquilly and glared down at his hand, "And give me a reason to practice the Avada Kedavra."

"You certainly know how to sink the spirit and mar the pleasure, but I hope you're not regarding yourself more aristocratic than everyone," Brice growled ferociously, playing for time as he unwillingly backed away from her and held his hands up innocently. "What does Sirius Black offer you to have you in bed, Rainzzi?"

Feeling a pang of outrage towards him, Rainzzi didn't make any verbal response, but her contemptuous expression was far enough to enunciate her outright loathe and defiance of him. The atmosphere has disintegrated. They fixed each other with an intense and appraising glare.

"Come on, Rainzzi, you're a clever person," Brice prompted, in a mature voice and a supercilious way in order to redeem himself; his excitement had obviously ebbed away. "We've been dating for no less than 5 years. I know you would never contribute if you didn't expect something more fruitful in return. Tell me, what is it that Black offers you?"

"That – will be for you to wonder," said Rainzzi in a high-pitched and poisonously sweet voice which was so unlike hers that she felt a chill in spite of herself. But Brice didn't. He licked his lips and inclined his head ever so slightly, but its effect was significant in the dim-light. It was no longer possible to meet his glances, when she searched for his orbits; she was met with a pair of glints. Glints not of anger but self-confidence.

"Do you really think you can get away from my claws forever?" he whispered dolefully, pretended to be perplexed. His face crinkled into a hideous smile, "Maybe you do. But what you don't know is that you're unconsciously heading towards my cage. That's the way it goes."

"So I have been warned," Rainzzi said slowly and clearly. She gave a shrill laugh of cynicism, but her sophisticated countenance was of no humor and fakeness.

"You know, Rainzzi, I await the moment when I can actually fuck you," Brice murmured as he bent down and grabbed her shoulder. She could feel his breath on her face, but she didn't recede, as she considered it as an action of cowardice. "Which is…when hell freezes over," she muttered in the same seductive tone in his ear.

She sensed a twitch deep in her cheek when he kissed it. "Think of it again, I guess I am going," Brice said flippantly as he straightened up. He smiled at her farcically; it was as though the peculiar chat had never taken place. "I'll return at breakfast time," he added as he dusted off the front of his cloak. A moment later, he disappeared.

The few seconds after his departure was filled with total dumbness when Rainzzi gazed unseeingly into space. There's no need to be pretentious anymore, a voice materialised in the pool of her mind. She lifted her eyelids for a centimeter. When she was gradually convinced that no one's around, she fetched a book nearby and threw it feverishly at where he had earlier stood. A few more of her possessions were hurled through the silent air before she lay down on her back, her rib-cage mounting and dismounting rapidly.

With a mingled swell of indignation and embarrassment, she thought her eyes were growing hot with suppressed tears. And she could also sense her cheek rising in temperature and probably reddening too. She fought back the blinding tears.

Why she was so desperate to cry she didn't comprehend, but she knew perfectly the reason she felt so miserable wasn't really Brice. Neither was it merely because of his words, but the many inextricable question marks that Brice's insult had stirred a ring of.

"I know you would never contribute if you didn't expect something more fruitful in return," Brice had said. Indeed, she knew he was right. She had no intentions whatsoever to deny it nor did she ever want to excuse herself. Nevertheless, knowing it was one thing, hearing it straightly from someone's mouth was another. Still, she had been able to justify herself when she heard Remus saying she had never given a shit when it came to him. But it sounded so much worse when it came from Brice Fudge's mouth, a man whom she prided herself that she had every reason to despise, but then she had been speechless when he uttered it. Because he was right. She knew he was right and she couldn't retort.

An egoist. That's what she was.

In the years after her memory had been mortified, when people started to call her 'the fiancée of the murderer', by hook or by crook had been the policy she adapted for her obsessions with power and recognition. She was all-in in her work, she didn't care if her ambition was achieved with hypocritical show of friendship, she didn't care if people black-mouthed her behind her back, she didn't even care if it was against the grain. She became only mindful of the outcome but not the process. Ultimately she had become obsessed with vanity, as Remus had once bawled her out.

She was both an egoist and a sufferer of vanity, but she was happy with the fact if she might say so. Well, perhaps not now. At least she had once been happy with it…until she woke up one day and abruptly discovered that she had got all she wanted and that she had run out of desire.

Since then, she had been experiencing early mid-life crises from time to time. Every time she persuaded herself to give it all up and decided to resign the very next day and began traveling abroad, but when every tomorrow arrived, she only found herself setting a higher target and then reaching it again.

She had everything. She had very high income, which she didn't need; it's not like she needed to work in order to bring home the bacon. She had gained the respect of the Wizarding community; which she didn't truly appreciate; as it's brought by her relationship with Fudge instead of her achievement in her Auror career. She had power, which in such a realistic world meant none other then the authority to exploit the benefits of the inferiors. She had… In fact, that's all she had.

She had everything that she thought she wanted, but she had nothing that she earnestly desired. Which didn't make sense; she thought she was on the edge of having a mental collapse.

Rainzzi opened her eyes again, staring around for inspiration of what she lacked. She kept rolling her eyes. They traveled to every bit of the room, what would a woman in early thirties want, besides money, flame and power?

Her eyes landed on the mirror on her bedside table; there she founded what she lacked. She almost laughed out teasingly as she scrutinized her reflection in the mirror. Youth. The fogs were hastily all cleared; it's youth that she wanted.

She didn't want to stay young for the whole life; she just wanted to have the experience of being young. People might say she was pretty idiotic for wanting such an ambiguous substance. It's easy for them to comment, they wouldn't cherish it as they all had it by nature. They wouldn't know how valuable yet unattainable youth was to some people.

No one knew the feeling of having the memory all cleared except those who had actually suffered from it. It was like being born again; however it was nothing like renaissance. You were born again at the age you were when you woke up from an eternal sleep, everybody was just too willing to fill you in what you had forgotten but they expected you to act your age. For instance, they told you what your name was but didn't teach you how to spell it.

She could still remember the hopelessness and apprehension when the nurse informed her that the name should spell as 'Rainzzi' after she signed a 'Rainsy' on the medical record.

For years, she resigned to the fact that there was just no way for her to retrieve her memory, however, that didn't cease her desperation in wishing a miracle. But then when Sirius Black told her that he might make her dream come true with his pensieve, she rejected it fiercely. She snapped at him that it was because she didn't want to have the memory of their togetherness back. In fact, that's a lie; it had nothing to do with Sirius, he was just the scapegoat on whom she vented out her frustration. Truth was: she was scared. Scared by the woman she was now, that she was afraid that she would just find a younger replica of her dreadful self in Sirius' pensieve.

Rainzzi stuck out a long finger and brought it to the mirror, tracing the doleful image there. No doubt she was still very pretty, but she sort of looked exhausted and pale. And the vivid gleams that she believed had once glowed in her blue eyes were lost ever since the minute she was back at square one.

The longer she stared at her own reflection, the more she hated herself. On an impulse, she violently swept all the contents on the bedside table to the carpeted floor. The mirror shattered on the floor with a small clatter. She stared unseeingly into space again with her nail dug deeply into a pillow corner; she was tired. She felt painfully tired as awkwardly the pain of the bruises Lestrange made on her came back, and she just wanted to rest in peace, to sleep forever and ever.

…………………

Pulling the Auror cloak off her, Rainzzi walked into the Leaky Cauldron alone. She had never really liked the place, but tonight she had no alternatives; tired of being recognised or tracked, it had become more or less a pattern for her to keep going to different bars. And although the Leaky Cauldron was hardly an ideal place for an after dinner drink, as she stepped deeper into the crowded and noisy environment, she found herself exceptionally comfortably. People scattered around the place were too busy to notice the additional existence of her.

"Can I help you, madam?" the young bartender asked courteously as she approached.

"A cocktail, please," said Rainzzi, settling on a stool around the bar. "Thanks," she said as the bartender returned almost immediately with a tiny goblet of colourfully-layered alcohol.

For a few minutes, she sat there isolated, sipping the cocktail, and tried to relax. Leaning on the bar table and staring into space unseeingly, her mind drifted off again to the question that had bothered her for quite some time now. Always the same question: was it worth it to join the Order? Having joined the Order for just a month, she already found her determination falter. Auror work at day, guarding Trelawney and Order business at night, and spying on the Fudges and Ministry whenever need be, the fatigue from double role-playing was fast in catching up and she wondered how long could she survive.

Was it worth it to join the Order? she asked herself in a mental note again. But in fact, she had already worked out the answer long ago. Joining the Order had gained her nothing, nothing at all, but burden. However, although she knew perfectly service to Dumbledore was never like eternal service to Voldemort and that she might be able to back out if she insisted, she had no desire to back out. Somehow, she felt proud to be part of the Order, as she found the participation make her less passionless. It was strange, because she used to pride herself for being pragmatic, and it was on the verge of irritating her. At least, she thought dully, you will have an irrefutable answer when the bastard of Fudge says you never contribute without expecting something more fruitful in return. It nearly brought a sneer to her face to imagine Brice's ugly face twitching if she told him she was in fact on Dumbledore's side, spying on his family and gathering ammunition against Cornelius Fudge's government if she had the chance. If only she could tell Brice…

Scowling, Rainzzi refocused on the cocktail before her as a bunch of middle-aged women seated around the small table behind her broke out laughing at some off-colour joke or another. She finished the remaining alcohol in one single gulp, and beckoned the bartender for a mug of Firewhisky. Shifting slightly on the stool, she could feel a pair of eyes staring at her somewhere from a dark corner, the notion of being peeking at instantaneously put her on alert.

When the bartender handed her the Firewhisky, Rainzzi grasped the chance. As though adjusting her posture, she squinted sideway casually. It was a man who looked in his late thirties, surrounded by men roughly of the same age, probably having a bachelor union. Her eyes met his bold ones for a split second before she returned to her drink apathetically. Woman hunter.

No doubt, the man walked to the bar within a minute, clutching his own mug of whatever it was. "Hi," the man said brightly, leaning his back on the bar, facing her. Though only average-looking, Rainzzi noticed he had a nice smile with his dazzling teeth.

"Isaac Gloucester," he said as she didn't acknowledge him, holding out his hand. "I work in the Gringotts Bank."

Rainzzi looked anything but impressed. "Pleasure," she said shortly as she shook his hand.

"You know, I was wondering if a young beautiful lady like you would possibly like to join me and my friends over there?" the man pressed, clearly he thought she was just pretending to be cool. "We're all from the Bank."

She eyed him politely but shook her head, "Thanks for the invitation, but I'd prefer staying here."

Isaac Gloucester shrugged. He settled on the stool besides her without asking for approval. "Perhaps we can talk alone then."

Frowning, she was about to grab the mug and walk away herself when a deep voice appeared on her other side. "I am sorry I'm late."

Rainzzi looked up, half expecting the voice to belong to Gloucester's acquaintance instead of hers, a faint hint of mingled annoyance and surprise appeared just above her eyes as it turned out to be Sirius Black's. Turning slightly, she got a better glimpse of him. For the first time since she had met him in the Department of Mysteries, he looked recognisable as the best man in the photo which had been stuck on Kingsley's notice-board in his cubicle until his innocence was officially vindicated. Something was different about him, too, but Rainzzi wasn't sure what. But another glimpse of him told her the answer, instead of looking his usual conceited self, he was rather modest at the moment.

"I'd appreciate it if you can excuse us," said Sirius to Gloucester. Rainzzi grimaced, as though we've promised to meet each other here. But she didn't say anything, squinting from Gloucester to Sirius and took a sip of the Firewhisky; she had difficulty deciding who would be more intolerable.

From the side of her eyes, Rainzzi could see Gloucester give Sirius a despising once-over quickly, opening his mouth to say something, but he seemed to have a second thought as he could bridge the Azkaban ex-convict to the man standing in front of him. He gave a quiet nod and sipped his drink, holding the mug with both hands.

With a gentle push on the back, Sirius ushered Rainzzi away from the bar, indicating a vacant table at a corner diagonally across the one occupied by the bankers.

"How do you know I am here?" she asked as they made their way through the crowd to the back of the Leaky Cauldron, not looking at him.

"Intuition," he said in a plain voice, disregarding the looks other drinkers shot him. "I've been wanting a private word with you."

"If this is one of those rubbish talk again, you can –"

"No, it isn't," Sirius cut her words neatly, "I just want to apologise."

Rainzzi halted, squinting over her shoulder suspiciously. She had always got the impression that Sirius Black had never apologised in his life. "What for?"

Sirius shrugged, "I realise I might have appeared too forceful the other day."

"Nice observation," said Rainzzi coolly as they sat down on opposite sides of the table.

"So, sorry if I irritated you that day," he said sincerely, "but in my own defence, I just wanted to reinforce my point, I didn't intend to bring you any hard feeling."

"That's OK," she said distractedly, as Isaac Gloucester was still glancing over from the bar. "You know, I haven't been losing sleep over it."

Sirius nodded mildly. "But you should know that I am still not giving up on you."

Rainzzi pouted, but she was fine with it as long as he managed to keep his temper in check. "Well, I can't restrain you from wasting your time."

"Nice observation, too," Sirius grinned, picking up the yellowing menu. "So are we back on speaking terms?"

"I assume we are."

"So, fancy some snacks while we could possibly have a nice chat?"

Rainzzi shrugged as Sirius glanced up, and a beaming waiter scurried forward.

At the beginning, the talk was awkward. They talked only occasionally, with Sirius doing most the talking and Rainzzi answering only when necessary, touching on boring subjects such as current affairs, politics, public speculations, and etc. But as the night dragged on, their chat moved on to some more personal issues. She'd thought Sirius would be all serious and subjective and arrogant, but really, he was not, or if he was, he didn't show it. And curiously, unlike her other admirers (she had quite a few before she started dating Fudge), Sirius was unpretentious in the strictest sense, he was neither boastful of himself nor did he try to flatter her and he was intellectual in giving his own comments, and she found it quite comfortable.

Once or twice in their conversation, Harry Potter was brought up, and she had caught a glimpse of paternal pride in Sirius' eyes which completely shattered the reckless impression he tended to give her. However, above all, the greatest thing was that, intentionally or not, Sirius had not once mention anything related to their relationship in the past throughout the whole evening. She didn't know if he had sensed that the taboo would inevitably give rise to uneasy feelings, but either way, she felt easier to talk to him with the topic left untouched.

A waiter came and cleared away the dishes, and brought them each a cup of coffee. Rainzzi sat back in the chair, smirking as Sirius told her yet another sarcastic joke about Severus Snape.

"I've to go," said Rainzzi at last.

Sirius frowned at the grandfather clock hung on the wall behind the counter. "Perhaps we can have another drink some time later this week?"

Rainzzi shook her head with a crafty smile, "I don't usually make a date beforehand. I am used to going anywhere on the spur of the moment." She stood up and gestured to leave, but he grabbed her arm.

"You know, there's something that I've yet to tell you." Sirius paused, staring at her more intently than he'd ever had, "If you ever need someone to talk to or something, Rainzzi, find me. I'll always be your last resort."

Rainzzi didn't know if she just did it to avoid any more hinder of her departure, or if she did it because she was too exhausted to think of some ironic answer, all she knew was that she gave a small nod when she walked past him.

A/N: PLEASE REVIEW …before you curse me for the existence of Brice!