Happy birthday, Sirius

James Potter loved Halloween. It was his favourite holiday. He once petitioned for the day to be free of classes. Most of the student body agreed but the professors weren't impressed. Nobody wanted James Potter and his band of Marauders to wreak havoc upon the school for an entire day. It was bad enough they had in seven years not managed to prevent their yearly Halloween feast prank. Truth be told, the prank was the highlight of the day and not even rule-abiding Lily Evans did much to make a stop to it. Despite regularly expressing her displeasure with James Potter and his childish pranks, nobody could get Lily Evans to leave the Great Hall until she had seen the prank through. For Lily Evans loved Halloween just as much as James Potter did if not more. And while Lily Evans might had convinced whoever wondered about her dillydallying, that she was merely not finished with the desert, Eva Marlowe smirked knowingly. What a cruel twist of fate for them to have died on exactly that night.

And that was exactly why Healer Eva Marlowe volunteered to work the busiest, most gruesome shift of the year at St Mungo's Emergency ward. So she has little time to think of moments like these. It was either work or get shit-faced and she choose the former. It was a close call. Her co-workers thought nothing of it as she regularly switched to cover the most dreaded shifts; Christmas, New Years, St Patricks, Halloween. Some thought her gracious as they were left to celebrate with their children and other thought her a sadomasochistic bitch. If it was any of the two; well she was definitely not gracious.

Despite the constant stream of patients through the night, her thoughts stray and she feels restless. Her hand forms a fist and her fingers dig into her palm painfully. It is not enough though; she just itches to do something. She almost regrets choosing work over firewhiskey but realizes almost immediately it would make no difference. Not even firewhiskey could completely obliterate the memories of her friends. Much less of the night they died. She knows; she has tried. Why Halloween would be any special just because it's an anniversary of their deaths, she does not know. They are just as dead any other night.

She can't help but think about how Sirius is dealing. She snorts at the thought. She doesn't even notice the nurse's weird glance. She knows exactly how he is dealing; with a bottle of Ogden's finest. She can practically see him, slouched over the kitchen's table, pouring glass after glass or maybe just drinking straight out of a bottle and if faith is merciful, on his way to passing out. Remus is probably close by, sitting quietly, caught in his own grief, just making sure his friend doesn't drink himself to death. She has a brief thought about joining them but dismisses it before it even manages to properly manifest itself. She can't be anywhere near him on this day. She knows how it would end; with screaming and accusations and guilt and words that neither of them could ever take back. She doesn't want any of that but on the other hand; if she could just release some of that restless tension…

"Healer Marlowe? We have a case coming in."

Eva nods and is extremely grateful for the tentacles growing out of a boy's body for it is sure to keep her focused and occupied for most of the night. Even so, that restless itch stays with her for the rest of the night.

The third of November also marks the day that Eva Marlowe has no intention whatsoever to cross the threshold of Number 12 Grimmauld Place. Not that she is a regular there or something. In fact, she has not been there since she has dropped off the last dose of Dreamless Sleep potion for Sirius almost a fortnight ago. She has dragged that on longer than strictly necessary. An average patient would not need the potion for more than seven to eight days as the potion was highly addictive. But with all the issues he already has, she figures, what's a little bit of addiction if she can afford him a few peaceful nights.

On this night though, she will not be dropping anything off. It's Sirius Black's birthday and if she has to guess, he is spending it exactly the way he spent Halloween and if she were to turn up, she expects the night to end exactly as she expected Halloween to end if she was to turn up then. Or worse. Contrary to James, whose birthday was always a laud boisterous affair that ended with a drunken out of control party, Sirius liked to spend his birthday with James. It was their day. What Sirius must be feeling on this day, she doesn't know. And she doesn't want to see. Doesn't want to be faced with it. She plans to spend it pacing her flat restlessly. It has after all been the feeling that has accompanied her for days now.

Luck or faith or karma (whatever one wants to call it) is not on her side that night though. The message Dumbledore sends her is not urgent but it urges her strongly to make an appearance at Grimmauld Place. She bits her lip contemplating. She really doesn't want to go but when Albus Dumbledore requests your presence, one can hardly refuse him.

"What do you mean 'banned for life'?" The scene that awaits her at the kitchen of Number 12 Grimmauld Place is tense with frustration and anger mingling with un undercurrent of worry. Arthur and Molly seem more worried then angry but the same cannot be said for their outraged sons Bill and Charlie that are talking loudly one over another even if they seem to be in agreement, much less for Sirius, who is bellowing into Albus' tired face. Remus is standing at his friend's side, ready to either restrain Sirius from strangling Albus Dumbledore or help him, Eva is not sure. She is leaning towards the latter by the murderous expression on his face. Tonks who is standing at his periphery is looking at him warily and Alastor Moody, leaning on the kitchen counter seems to be exasperatedly rolling both of his eyes at all of them.

"What is going on?" Her arrival brings everyone to a sudden and momentary halt. For a moment everything is quiet except for Moody muttering something unflattering about the real drama starting now. Then the yelling starts back up.

"Harry has been banned for life!" Sirius yells at her.

"Banned from what?"

"Quidditch!" Comes a simultaneous yell of Sirius, Remus, Charlie, Bill and Tonks. Eva feels cold and her hackles rise. Not quidditch. Please, just not quidditch.

"What? How? Why? For life?" Her own voice raises to a yell in a matter of seconds.

"Umbridge banned him! Harry and Fred and George, too." It is Bill that informs her, also on the verge of yelling. In fact, everybody with the exception of Albus Dumbledore and Arthur Weasley has increased their volume even further. "They were fighting with Draco Malfoy after the quidditch game."

"That bitch! How dare she?!" She gets shouts of encouragement.

"There is no need for that kind of language! They were fighting! Muggle style. With fists! In front of the whole school. What did they expect?!"

In Molly's eyes it says a lot about how inexperienced Eva Marlowe is in parenting, that she has not even thought about the fact that maybe it has been justified to ban them. But there are things that Molly doesn't understand. (There are of course also things that Eva doesn't understand. Many things.) But what Molly fails to grasp is that her children have been raised with knowing that no matter what they did, how they tested their parents' patience, they will always be loved. And knowing that, they often did just that, which is why their parents mostly jumped to the conclusion that they were just rightly punished for what they did wrong. Harry, on the other hand, as far as Eva can tell, hasn't had that safety net and for that reason, Eva understands things that Molly doesn't.

"I don't care what they did! If they were fighting they were probably provoked. Harry wouldn't just go up to someone and started hitting them! Even if it is scum like Malfoy. I remember Lucius. His spawn can't be any better." She hasn't really known Harry for that long but she knows with absolute certainty, that Harry, despite his tendency towards angry outbursts, would not just hit someone without a reason. "And I'm not a child, Molly. If I want to call that bitch, a bitch, then I will!"

All hell breaks loose after that.

"How dare you talk like that to my mother?"

"– know nothing of parenting–"

"– nothing short of murder justifies being banned for life–"

"– where does she get to–"

" – my GODSON–"

"– let that happen –"

"– strangle her with my bare hands –"

"– kill that little shit–"

"– most annoying student I ever had misfortune–"

"– don't know why I'm here. Not a bloody Order issue–"

"– take away one thing that he loves–"

"– just waiting to do that –"

"– bigoted bitch–"

"– your eyes are turning yellow–"

"– bloody Malfoy–"

"– let Moony get her on full moon–"

"– do something about it–"

"– fighting in plain sight. The Ministry has –"

"– are Albus Bloody Dumbledore! You could–"

"There is nothing I can do. It is done." And with those words of Albus Bloody Dumbledore everyone finally stops talking.

Eva stands there, in the middle of the kitchen, staring at her former headmaster, devastation etched onto her face. Sirius suddenly marches out of the kitchen determinedly. But Eva doesn't notice. Nor does she notice people scrambling after him, trying to intercept him.

Oh god, no. Oh, no. Oh, Harry. Not quidditch. He must be devastated. What is she supposed to do? She must do something. She must comfort him. She must see him. She must. What if he does something stupid?

"I'm going to Hogwarts to see Harry," declares Sirius. Dumbledore watches as Eva finally starts at this statement. The headmaster gives a tiny almost imperceptible nod at this and is quite satisfied with the correct assumption he has made about Eva Marlowe and Sirius Black's relationship. Even as he invited her back to the Order, he has expected her to be a calming presence and a voice of reason who will manage to reign in Sirius when necessary.

"Wait! I'm coming with you," she yells and reaches Sirius in the front hall where he is trying to get past Moody, Bill and Charlie that are blocking his way.

If Albus Dumbledore were prone to such things, he would roll his eyes at their recklessness and mostly at his own stupidity. And if Eva knew of her former headmaster's expectations, she would laugh into his face and told him he has confused her with someone else. For she was rarely the voice of reason. She could be the voice of ugly truths but people mostly didn't want to hear those, much less act by them.

It takes a combined efforts of Remus, Dumbledore and Arthur to convince Eva and Sirius not to charge to Hogwarts on a whim.

"You're an escaped convict. You cannot just appear at Hogwarts."

"I don't care."

"Harry cares. What's wrong with you?!"

"And no, Eva, you can't go either. We are trying to keep your involvement with the Order and especially your connection to Harry under the radar."

"Harry needs me. I have to do something."

"He will be fine."

"I know the two of you are new at this but we generally do not allow parents or guardians to come see their charge every time they get a detention. You can write him a letter."

"A letter?! Well, generally parents or guardians can write to their charge in normal sentences. Not in a code!"

Only when Remus suggests Dumbledore personally delivers a letter form Eva and Sirius to Harry and when Dumbledore agrees, do they seem appeased. Eva follows Sirius upstairs in search of a spare piece of parchment and a quill.

Remus sighs wearily after they depart and starts closing the curtains over the screaming portraits that have awakened at all the ruckus they have been making. Tonks stays to help him as all the others return to the basement kitchen. When the hall is finally quiet they both stop at the bottom of the stairs to listen to the bickering coming from a room somewhere above.

"Let me write. My handwriting is at least legible."

"Will you stop being so bloody polite? Harry doesn't care about this."

"Well, I can't just start off with death threats."

"Give the quill here!"

"You can't just take it in the middle of the sentence!"

"Your sentence is bullshit."

"As if you are doing any better. Watch it! You just made a hole in it."

"Merlin, this is so sappy. I can't even watch you write this."

"It is not sappy! He needs our support!"

"He needs us to be angry on his behalf."

"He is already angry. Why do we need to be angry, too? We should be calming and comforting."

"Don't make me laugh! He has just been banned from quiddtich for life! He doesn't want to be calmed."

"Just because you would react that way, doesn't mean Harry will, too."

"I know Harry!"

"Au, my finger. It's bleeding. Stop ripping the parchment out of my hands!"

"Do you think we should go up there?" There is apprehension in Tonks' voice and she obviously hopes Remus either goes by himself or better yet, follows her to the kitchen. And as the option of drinking a glass of firewhisky with Tonks is far more appealing than playing a peacemaker for Eva and Sirius, Remus hesitatingly gestures towards the kitchen.

"They'll be fine." He doesn't want to deal with the two of them. At least not yet.

Half an hour later Eva (sucking on her injured finger when even an average wizard, could heal that in a second) and Sirius, both obviously bad-tempered, appear in a basement with a sealed letter that looks like it has travelled through war trenches. Dumbledore raises his eyebrows at the crumpled letter but doesn't ask as Sirius just continues to glare murderously.

"I do hope you wrote something other the death threats in here. I don't think Harry will find much comfort in them." Neither says anything and not even a flicker of guilt passes their faces so nothing further is said about the matter. Dumbledore nods to himself and then rises along with some others to leave. But Sirius stops them. Suddenly there is a big fake jubilant smile on his face. If he weren't just glaring venomously a few seconds before some might confuse it as real. Some, that don't know him well, probably think it is real.

"There's no need to leave just yet. Sit down. Let's have a drink. It's my birthday today." And before anyone can object, he summons the bottle and ten glasses and starts pouring generously. For Remus it is a foreboding sign that he has announced his birthday and even more that he wants to drink with other people. Maybe he has underestimated his loneliness after all. Maybe this won't be a disaster. But it's hard to stay optimistic when he catches sight of Eva's face. For a second it looks like she is about to cry and when she composes herself, Remus is certain she is about to get up and leave. She knows it's bad, too. Contrary to what he believes, she squares her shoulders and stays put. And she is gearing up for it. Remus wishes she left.

If there was anyone still under the impression that Sirius's sudden surge of good mood was real, their illusions are shattered as he raises his glass before others have even managed to grab theirs, toasts to himself: "Happy birthday to me," and downs the drink in one go before slamming the glass onto the table and immediately pouring another. There are murmurs of Happy birthday around the otherwise silent table as everybody rushes to finish their drinks as soon as possible.

Dumbledore leaves first with Moody at his heels and Molly and Arthur rise soon after with warnings for their sons not to drink too much. They readily ignore them along with all the others that have stayed behind. Bill and Charlie stay because of the promise of more free booze, Remus has nowhere to go and he cannot leave his friend unsupervised, not on this day, Tonks, Eva suspects, stays for a chance to be near Remus and because the poor girl doesn't get many chances to loosen up these days and Eva herself because she is, as already discovered, a sadomasochistic bitch. She is angry, tense and just itching to do something.

Under the influence of alcohol and Weasley brothers' easy-going nature, soon the tension somewhat eases. They even move the party upstairs to the drawing room when Tonks complains about uncomfortable hard-backed chairs and turn on the wireless. It is much later, when everybody, including Remus, is considerably wasted, that Bill and Charlie announce their retirement and stumble out of the house whisper singing some Irish drinking song. Miraculously, they manage not to wake up Mrs Black's portrait.

Tonks curls up on a sofa sighing contentedly and Eva spreads her body comfortably near her, throwing her head back and putting her feet on the coffee table while Sirius and Remus converse among themselves, sitting in armchairs across the room by the window.

"Are you on the family tree, Eva?" Tonks asks her suddenly, her eyes tracing the lines on the tapestry lazily. Eva gives a surprised short laugh.

"What?"

"The Black family tree. I don't see you anywhere." Tonks gestures somewhere in the general direction of the wall.

"Why for Merlin's sake would I be on the Black family tree?"

"Well, you're are pureblood, aren't you? I just thought…"

"Oh. Yeah, I'm not there. I'm technically a pureblood, both of my parents are wizards. Nowhere near pure enough for Walburga Black, though. My father's line was pure as they come but my mother's line was full of half-bloods and muggleborns. Even an occasional muggle. Oh, did my mom hate to be reminded of it. Married my father to purify the line or some nonsense like this. Thought she'll marry off her offspring to purebloods. I think she and Walburga would have hit it off splendidly if she didn't think my mother was trash. Funny, that."

Eva doesn't remember when's the last time she said this much on the subject of her family. Can't remember when she talked freely to a friendly face either, so that might be a catch. She hopes wireless is laud enough for their conversation not to reach both men. She chances a glance and is relieved to see them still engaged in a conversation.

"So, you met Sirius' mother?"

"Once or twice."

"And she didn't approve of the two of you?" Eva wishes Tonks didn't talk so laud.

"Not really. But Sirius was a lost cause by the time I met her so she didn't do much but turn her nose up at me and tell him, rather without hope, she can still find him a nice pureblood witch if he would reconsider returning home and changing his views."

"And what did he say?"

"He told her she can take her racist views and stick it where the sun doesn't shine." Tonks giggles at that beneath her palm. "It was all very uncouth but luckily also brief. And I mostly stared at them quietly through the exchange but she obviously remembered me later."

"What do you mean?" Eva can hear that the conversation across the room has quieted down and hesitates briefly. But that itch she has been feeling for days now propels her to carry on. She dares not look away from her glass or Tonks though.

"She saw me talking to Regulus once. Went berserk, lost it completely right there in the middle of the Diagon Alley. Prohibited me to talk to Regulus, called me all kinds of foul names, you heard her portrait so you can imagine, looked just as mad and made a go for her wand. Those were dark times but you still didn't just attack somebody in plain view of half the magical community. Oh, she definitely remembered me. Probably thought I'll corrupt Regulus or something."

"And what did dear Regulus do?" His mocking scoff comes out of nowhere but somehow Eva is not surprised. Somehow she expected just that. Dreaded it and anticipated it all at once. She could have after all left hours ago. She didn't even have to make excuses. Just say her goodbyes and leave. But she has sat there for hours, drinking his best firewhiskey. And she is just drunk enough and frustrated enough after the day's events that she could tear into him with a ferociousness of an enraged dragon.

But there is that warning prickling at the back of her mind. Warning, preventing her from diving head first into an argument. You know how it will end? With screaming and anger and accusations and guilt. Just the things you wanted to avoid. Or didn't you?

Eva glares at him angrily but doesn't answer something they both know the answer to. Sirius doesn't let go though.

"Was he a gallant knight? Did he stand up to mother for you?"

"He did what he could," she tells him through gritted teeth. "Got his mother out of there."

At that she determinedly turns away from him to drunk but somewhat wide-eyed Tonks.

"Uhm, you have any siblings?" Tonks clearly asks this in an attempt to change the subject to something benign.

"Not anymore," she tells her with a humourless smile. Her life is one big minefield.

"Oh, Merlin. I'm sorry. I should just stop talking." The alarm on younger witch's face and her adorable flustered ramblings cause Eva to smile at her kindly. It is rare she meets a character so sincere and true.

"It's alright. He, my brother, has been dead for more than twenty years now."

"I had no idea." Eva shrugs and empties her umpteenth glass.

"It's not like I just go around telling this to people I just met." Or anyone ever. Even if they ask. Although, when was the last time someone asked?

"You are very pretty, you know," Tonks declares drunkenly. Eva raises an eyebrow at her.

"You're drunk."

"No, I'm- Okay, yes I am. But you are still pretty."

"Why, thank you, Dora. But I don't swing that way." Tonks giggles at this.

"I don't either, silly. I can still say you're pretty. Do you have a boyfriend? You aren't married are you? I actually don't know much about you."

And that's because Eva Marlowe doesn't talk much about herself. Not that there is actually much to tell besides her work.

"Uh, no boyfriend. Not married, no."

"How's that?"

"Yes, Marlowe, do tell us, how's that?" This time he catches her unaware. She hasn't expected him to had anything to add to this. And hasn't seen him approach. "How is it that you haven't done anything with your life in the last fourteen years? Do you enjoy playing a martyr?"

He stalks over to her to look down his nose at her. This time she can't help but rise to the bait. It's what she had been itching to do. Dreading. But itching.

Before anger takes over a flash of anguish passes her face.

"What the hell is your problem?"

Sirius asks himself that all the time. What problem does he have with her? And Remus has taken to badgering him about it incessantly.

Why are you so angry with her? Because of that thing with your brother? That was ages ago. Did you even ask her about it? Did they really have something? As far as I can remember your relationship was pretty liberal so what can you really hold against her? And really, would Eva have something with Regulus? He was your brother. And very young at that. This can't be the only thing you are angry with her, is it? Even so, can't you forgive her? It has been so many years? Can't you see she is suffering? Hasn't she been through enough? Do you blame her for not knowing you were innocent? Because then you should be angry with me too. And you seemed to have forgiven me instantly. And to throw into her face that she is not Harry's official godmother? Come on, that's not fair. She used to be one of the few people you trusted, one of the few real friends. Don't deny it. What are you really so angry about? Can't you at least be civil for Harry's sake?

Sirius doesn't have an answer to any of this questions but he does at least try to be civil for Harry's sake as he can see that his godson is curious about her. But there are many faces of Eva Marlowe and some are easier to stand than others. There is soft spoken but firm Healer Eva Marlowe that sits at his bedside and plies him with potions. He has reached an unspoken truce with this Eva Marlowe. It was easy. This Eva Marlowe is a stranger to him. This Eva Marlowe makes even her most opinionated statements seem inoffensive. She also has him drugged.

Then there is Eva Marlowe; the worried godmother. This one is already harder to handle as he knows she has only been exercising her right to worry about Harry for a few months. But he can recognize the real emotion behind her anxiousness about Harry. He can see she loves him. And he can see that Harry wants her in his life. And despite throwing it into her face in a fit of rage, that she was not his official godmother and thus has no rights to see him, he knows Lily and James wanted them to both be Harry's guardians and if nothing else, he respects that. So, as long as it is all about Harry, he can tolerate this Eva Marlowe. He hardly knows that one either.

The stoic faced Eva Marlowe irks him. He sees her often. He sees her whenever she talks to someone about anything that has a potential to be emotionally charged. He sees her every time she can sense him in near vicinity. He cannot stand this Eva Marlowe. He knows her stoic face is a façade and he can't help but tear it down in most painful ways possible. And when one word from his poisonous mouth rips off her forced stoicism, her initial reaction is always anger. Ironically, her angry face is the one he dreads. Not because he is afraid of what this Eva Marlowe might do to him but because this one is familiar. This Eva Marlowe he knows. He knows exactly how her eyes will sparkle angrily, how her nostrils will flare, how she will grit her teeth, how her hair at one side of her head will fall out of whatever hairdo she has at the time and she will violently push it out of her eyes with an impatient jerk of her hand. He anticipates it and dreads it at the same time because this Eva Marlowe perfectly resembles Eva Marlowe he once knew.

Then there is Eva Marlowe so obviously in agony. Her he hates. He hardly has any pity for her. Most of the time his lip curls in disgust at the sight of her. He can't stand that Eva Marlowe. And he can't really put a finger on why not. She has a habit of sprouting ugly truths, he doesn't want to hear but that's not it. There is more to it. There has to be. When he sees pain etched onto her face, he wants to hit her. Or strangle her. Or hex her. But he can't do that. Of course he can't. But he can talk. He can twist the metaphorical knife into her soul. He can sprout poison until she is efficiently broken. And he does it to. Until they are both shattered beyond recognition.

The Eva Marlowe in front of him is in combat mode. She has already let go of her stoic face. She is irritated but not yet in a rage. And there is that always present hint of tragedy in the way her lip twitches. She is ready to tear into him at the first sign of provocation. And he is ready to deliver. And they are both drunk enough to not consider the implications.

"My problem? Well, I have many problems. But that's to be expected, no? I did spend twelve years in Azkaban for a crime I didn't commit." The way he says it, it makes it sound like an accusation. And why wouldn't it be? Have you forgotten how easy it was for you to accept he was a traitor, Marlowe? "And nobody has ever emerged from Azkaban with all their marbles intact, have they?"

And as the light catches his sneering face from an angle, he really does look mad.

"I don't think it was Azkaban. I think you were born insane. And James' death has drove you over the edge. Why else would you have laughed as they apprehended you? Why didn't you scream to anyone who would listen that you were innocent? Why didn't you demand veritaserum? Why?" As she asks those questions she realizes it has been bothering her. She admits her guilt; admits she has done nothing to check out the story. But he has also never given any indication. He acted guilty. And even before he answers, a part of her knows what he'll say.

"It didn't matter, did it? I didn't betray them but I as good as killed them. I handed a weapon to their murderer and I drove them to their death. Nothing mattered. And by the time I realized… That there's Harry… And that the traitor was still at large… It was too late." His voice breaks and he turns away from her, battling his guilt. Eva wishes she had never asked. There are things you only think you want to hear. But you don't, not really.

She gets up from the sofa, her glass in hand, torn between wanting to comfort him and turn away and flee. She makes a hesitant step towards him but doesn't dare to go further.

"It wasn't your fault. Peter tricked you. He tricked us all. You put your trust in the wrong man but you didn't kill them." She is as earnest as she can be but knows showing pity will only piss him off. He turns to look at her and for a moment she thinks he might back down and leave but then his eyes search her face and whatever he sees there, makes him curl his lips into an ugly sneer.

"You know nothing because you weren't there. You didn't see your dear Lily's dead eyes stare at you accusingly." She freezes, feeling like she has been slapped in the face.

"Sirius!" Remus is half out of his chair to intercept his friend but Sirius pays him no heed. Tonks seems reluctant to interfere but her glassy eyes follow them as if she is on a stake out.

"Don't bother, Remus," Eva tells him breathlessly.

"Yes, Remus, why do you bother with her? What has she ever done for you? Except abandon you."

It's nothing she hasn't told herself. She has even said it to Remus himself. But it's also a thought so terrible, she rarely lets it manifest in her head. Even more rarely examines it. And to have it said so blatantly, without any pretence. It exposes her bare.

"Sirius, that's between me and Eva."

"And did she ever tell you what she did in that time? What was so important that you had to abandon your friend, Marlowe? I don't see that you have anything to show, do you?"

"I-" She chokes on the words trying to escape throat. What can she say to this anyway?

"You have wasted away all those years. I was rotting in prison and you, you who had a chance to live your life, you wasted it. You still didn't answer; did you enjoy punishing yourself?"

She shakes her head, not in answer but in confusion. Eva doesn't understand what he wants from her. Doesn't understand what he thinks she should have done. Forgotten all about what happened? Started a new life? Got married and had children? Would that satisfy him? Would that make any difference to him?

"Enjoyed punishing myself?" There is no feeling in her voice as she repeats his words. Somehow she is numb. "Maybe I did. Maybe I deserved to be punished. Do you think-" Her voice raises. "-that I didn't feel responsible when my boyfriend was found a traitor and a murderer?" His face pales and she thinks it's mostly because she has referred to him as her boyfriend. Until now they had hardly acknowledged they even used to know each other. "Do you think I got over it? Do you think a person can get over something like this?"

This only seems to only make him angrier. As if he were disgusted with her pain. He takes a swig out of his glass.

"You could if you wanted to."

"So, that's the big beef you have with me. You think you have an exclusive on pain and punishment. And that I couldn't possibly be suffering as much as you did? Because I wasn't in prison I should have my life in order? Let me tell you, how it went whenever I even thought about living a normal life. You think I was able to look a man, any man, in the eye and believe that he was what he said he was? That I could look a single person in the eye and not wonder who they really were? What's their agenda? What are they hiding? What am I missing? How could I trust anyone ever again?"

"You never trusted me."

"I trusted you with my life!" She yells it into his face. It's true, too. She has always trusted him to protect her.

"But never with your heart!" And that's the whole other matter. "Don't tell me it's my fault. You always had trust issues. Probably since Johnathan. He did a number on you. And don't try to tell me you got over that."

"You're right, of course, I had my issues. Many of them. But I was trying. I was trying to do better. To be better. Lily was helping me as always. And in one single moment…"

"You aren't half the woman Lily was." And while she tells herself this almost every day, it is still one of those things that hurts to hear it. "Without her to guide you, you are nothing. There's nothing worth my while about you."

He empties his glass and slams it on the coffee table before pushing past her and storming out of the room. But he has now winded her up and she will not allow him to just exit the fight without saying her part. This have been a long time coming and she realizes; that itch? She was itching to fight it out.

Her glass rolls of the table onto the carpet as she bumps her knee on the table in her rush to follow Sirius.

"Stay out of this, Remus," she barks when she senses he is about to interfere. And Remus complies as he too has probably come to the conclusion it is high time they have it out. For they have not really talked about anything important. There have been leakages, angry outbursts, short exchanges of toxic words. But that wasn't enough.

She marches after Sirius, taking two stairs at the time and arrives to the top floor winded and light-headed. She doesn't hesitate though. And even though he has left the conversation, as she slams open his bedroom door, he is obviously ready for another round. She doesn't give him a chance to speak.

"Do you think you are any better? What are you without James? A common criminal. He was your moral compass and as soon as he let you out of his sight you attempted a murder. Remember?" For a moment she thinks he might actually hit her. "And you have only me to thank that James didn't go to his grave still hating you. Me! Because I went to him and begged him to forgive you. I poured my heart out and I betrayed Regulus' trust by telling James he has joined the Death Eaters. I told him you were only reacting to finding out about your brother when you sent Snape down to the Whomping Willow."

"Oh, yes, poor little misunderstood Regulus. Is that what you are saying he was? Is that why he joined the Death Eaters?"

"He had no choice."

"HE HAD A CHOICE! Everybody has a choice. I know, because I gave him a choice. I asked him to come with me. He chose wrong."

"Oh yeah? What choice did you give him? You asked a- What? Fourteen-year-old boy to move out of the safety of his mother's house to come live with you on the streets? And then return to his Slytherin friends in the midst of a Snake den?"

"I would have protected him!"

"How? Stay with him every minute of the day while he looked over his shoulder to check if someone is trying to use an Unforgivable on him?"

"We would have figured something out."

"He never had the same chances as you did, Sirius."

"Yes, he did. He had exactly the same chances. We were born to the same parents, grew up in the same house, listened to the same bullshit…"

"He didn't have James Potter! And he wasn't in Gryffindor. And he wasn't fearless like you. He wasn't a rebel. He was just a normal boy. It doesn't mean he was a bad person."

"No. Joining the Death Eaters means he was a bad person."

"He made a mistake. He tried to fix it. He tried to get out."

"A lot of good it did." And he is right. She knows it to. It didn't do anything good. But still…

"He was a child, as scared child, that did a lot of wrong choices under his peers' pressure and his mother's wishes. He didn't know what he was really doing. And by the time he realized what it all means, it was too late. Everybody had abandoned him. You abandoned him."

"I loved my brother. I loved him." Finally, his voice shakes with an emotion that isn't anger. It is over before she can fully grasp it. Only hatred remains. "But the moment he got that mark he was dead to me."

"You condemned him and never looked back. At the end I was his only friend."

"Is that where you were those last weeks? Being his friend?" Eva sighs sadly at this for they have now come full circle and nothing's changed. "Don't deny it. I saw you."

"You saw what?" she spats at him. "Saw me hug him? Hold his hand in comfort? Give him a kiss on the cheek? Because that's all you could have seen! One friend comforting another friend. He was nothing more than a scared boy barely out of school. And you know what?" There is a touch of hysteria in her sudden laugh. "The irony of it all; at the end, I think he was the only one who believed you were innocent. I think, remembering back, I think he tried to tell me." Another humourless laugh. "I think he knew. I think he never believed you guilty."

"Are you saying you knew I was innocent?"

"Of course I didn't know. I knew nothing! The last time I saw him, I think he tried to tell me. But I was already too far gone, too drunk, too sick with pain to listen to anything. And finding out you were innocent after all these years… I can't help but think, that maybe if I examined my memories, maybe, just maybe I would come to the different conclusion. Maybe I wouldn't just believe you were guilty. But I didn't. I have for years chased away any memory that had the audacity to permeate my consciousness. So you stayed guilty in my mind. And even now, sometimes I still forget."

For a moment he looks like she has struck him.

"It's easier for you isn't it? To forget I'm not guilty?" She knows he mocks he, when he softens his voice to be all understanding to her pain. He is just poised to strike the moment she lowers her defences. But she knows him well enough to expect it. "Just as it was so easy for you to believe I was guilty in the first place. I was a bad seed, wasn't I? I was bound to show my true colours sooner or later. I wasn't trustworthy." She looks away to avoid his burning eyes but he grips her chin between his fingers painfully and forces her to look him in the eye. "I never was trustworthy in your eyes isn't that right? You expected me to fail. And guess what? I did. Did you congratulate yourself for knowing? For never giving me all of yourself?" Her throat closes up and pressure behind her eyes increases. "Was it less painful that way?"

She can feel bruises forming on her face and she slaps his hand away. He lets her.

"After the first war, all I could do for a while was cry. And do you know what people asked me? Why do you cry Eva? The war is over. You Know Who is dead. You should rejoice. Why do you cry for Lily and James? They died a heroic death. As if that made it any better. Any less dead. Why do you cry for that good for nothing murdering lunatic that was your boyfriend? He was a traitor. Why do you cry? You should be happy he is in prison. As if I should be grateful for it? I wasn't allowed to grieve. I wasn't allowed to cry. I wasn't allowed to talk about it. So, I didn't. I didn't grieve. And I stopped crying, haven't cried since," she grits out. "And I couldn't talk about any of it anyway. I pushed it all away. Because crying for you, grieving for you felt like a betrayal. It felt like a betrayal of their memory. To grieve you, it meant to betray them. I tried to forget any way I could; drink, drugs, sex, work. I repressed it. Didn't allow myself to think about it. But do you think that I got over it? That if I didn't allow myself to think of you and cry for you, that I could get any closure? That I dealt with it? That I just forgot and went on to live my life. Do you think I just found new friends? And a new boyfriend?"

"You could have. It was all over. You had a chance. You were free."

"Do you think I was free just because I wasn't in Azkaban?"

"Don't talk about what you don't know! You don't know how it was! Do you think any of your pathetic little struggles compare to having to relive all of my worst memories over and over and over? How do you think it feels having discovered my best friend murdered, his eyes empty, knowing I will never hear his laugh again? Find his dead body day after day again. I didn't even have the comfort of a single good memory of him as the dementors were upon me in an instant."

"And you think I had the luxury of reliving any of my memories? Do you think I enjoyed thinking of the grand old times? Do you think I revelled in them? I couldn't. I couldn't because all of my memories were tainted. By you. By your presence. And no matter what memory played in my mind, I always wondered what you were thinking. Did you hate us? Were you already a traitor?"

He tries to turn away from her, not wanting to listen to her anymore, but she won't let him do that. He will hear what she has to say. That's what he wanted, didn't he? She makes a grab for his forearm but when he wrenches it from her grip, she grabs a hold of his shirt in both of her fists. She gets directly in his face, her heaving chest in contact with his and their faces only centimetres away. She can smell the firewhiskey on his breath. Their sudden closeness surprises her but it doesn't deter her.

"It didn't matter what memory it was. Even if you weren't smack dab in the middle of it, you were always somewhere in the periphery. Someone made a mention of your name, a girl giggled at it, someone waited for you as you just ran to the kitchens or your textbook was on the table and there was that empty spot you always fell asleep in or that tree, that you pretended to do homework under. And even when you are not part of the memory, when it's just Lily an me in our room, I couldn't even think of that. I didn't even have a comfort of that. Because I knew your name would undoubtedly sneak in that conversation and the next day she will hit your shoulder for spilling coffee on her Charms textbook. You were always there and all my memories felt fake. Every quidditch game I visited, every concert we went to, every class, every birthday, every conversation, every kiss. All fake. As if I had seen them all wrong at the time and I didn't want to examine them again. And sometimes they still feel fake."

What happens next; she should see it coming. She should because that's how their arguments always ended. But she doesn't see it. Not at all.

He grips a fistful of her half-tied hair and pulls her head back roughly, making her scalp pulsate painfully. Her short yelp is muffled by his hard unforgiving mouth upon hers. Their teeth clash heatedly. The kiss is like everything else about him; angry, hard and bruising. It is a battle. She is digging her sharp little nails into his chest, pushing him away and pulling him closer all at once, while kissing back just as aggressively as he does. The hot desire exploding in her core, takes her by surprise. Because she hasn't been thinking about him in that way. She has until this very moment not been able to look past the blinding pain and exploding anger that consumed her at the mere thought of him. She hasn't thought of him as a man but rather as a manifestation of all the bad.

As she finally pushes him away hard enough to separate, they are left staring at each other, breathing like they had just run a marathon. A tuft of brown her is still tangled in the fingers of Sirius' right hand and a bruise is forming along Eva's face.

"Now, call that fake."

He smirks at her and she feels like someone poured a bucket of cold water over her head. She moves backwards until she hits the door and fumbles with the doorknob with shaking fingers. She doesn't say anything else as she closes the door behind her but an image of dishevelled hair falling into his eyes, which burn feverishly as he follows her every move, stays with her.

She descends the stairs like in a fog. Tonks says something to her but Eva can't hear her. Remus takes one look at her appearance and knows there is no use talking to her. Not right now. He gives her a bottle of firewhiskey before she has a chance to ask for it and taking a drink right out of the bottle is the last thing she remembers. She has no idea, that Remus moves her to the sofa or that Tonks conjures a pillow for her and covers her with a blanket.

In the morning, Molly looks with raised eyebrows at her presence as she stumbles into the kitchen in yesterday's wrinkled clothes, the right side of her hair falling out of a ponytail and her mouth smelling like something died in it. She knows what she has to be thinking but the truth is way worse. There is still a pile of vomit besides the sofa where she collapsed the previous night in her drunken stupor. And there's a man, sleeping in this house that had ripped open all of her wounds. And she has returned to favour.

Here you have it, Marlowe. Just as you predicted. Screaming and accusations and guilt and words that neither of them could ever take back…

She leaves the house, an ironic smile playing on her bruised lips, without saying anything. What is there left to be said?

Miles and miles away, up north, Harry Potter is bemused to find a letter tucked in his Herbology textbook. He opens the crumpled thing warily in the privacy of his bedroom. One corner of the parchment is ripped off, there is a hole where someone attempted to write an exclamation mark overenthusiastically and at least three ink lines from when someone ripped the parchment from beneath someone else's quill mark the letter. Not to mention there is, what seems to be blood, splattered across the top part of the letter. Two sentences are crossed out and the signature is awkwardly crammed at the very edge of the line; SiriusEva. Harry gives a chuckle at this as it seems that Eva wrote her name at the bottom of the letter first and Sirius just had to squeeze his name in front of hers. He reads the letter at least five times before showing it to his friends. Ron bluntly declares the both of them deranged and while Harry agrees, he can't help but grin every time he looks at the letter. For Dumbledore was wrong about one thing; even if the letter is indeed filled with death threats, it brings him much comfort. Because it is also filled with assurances and promises and even an attempt to scold him; you shouldn't attack people, even if they are little shits. Someone cares about him. Someone believes him, no questions asked. Someone loves him. And Harry Potter loves his deranged godfather and he could very well love the deranged woman who was supposed to be his godmother. But Harry Potter does not know the half of it.