A/N: I own nothing, of course.

You know, as I started delving into actually putting down some sort of outline for this story, I found myself increasingly wanting to tell Bella's story more than Harry's, in a way. I think I'm just going to see if I can do that in tastefully used, shortish flashbacks instead of going into it right away. From now on, I think I'll just do the story exclusively from Harry's point of view, and see if you guys can get a sense of how Bellatrix is dealing with all this from what he sees and infers. When you review, please tell me if you get that sense…

And now, on with the show…


Chapter 1: An Odd Afternoon

"Help! Help me – "

Antares winced, freezing in the act of slipping into the shadows near Borgin and Burkes. Sometimes, he thought, disgustedly, my luck is really horrible

"Hel – urk!"

Antares looked longingly at the dusty little book Burgin had just placed, conveniently, in an out-of-the-way corner of the nearest display window. But then, there were those cries again – of some hapless kid, wrestling with a large, mean-looking beggar Antares had avoided on instinct on entering Knockturn Alley today. The boy was fairly dark-skinned, skinny, and looked rather like he would – Antares rolled his eyes in disgust – cry.

Another fool on a dare, he muttered irritably to himself as he switched directions, slipping through the sparse, disinterested crowd as quickly as he could. There were always, from time to time, soft little kids that thought they'd be cool and venture into scary Knockturn Alley on their own.

They never got very far, of course. They'd either come to their senses and back out of the disreputable, dangerous street, or have an unfortunate incident.

Which was what this fool's situation looked like becoming.

"Think yeh can steal me gold, eh?" The beggar growled, dragging the foolish boy towards one of the dark little alleyways near the usual group of beggars, who, as they were wont to do, were cheering him lustily on.

"Skin 'is face, Ming – " one yelled into Antares' ear, making him wince.

So this was the Ming all the beggars talked of – insulted, deferred to – Antares sneered outwardly, his heart squeezing slightly. The beggars liked him, which was unceasingly lucky, as they tended to harass any suspicious person following him or his mother into the Alley. But standing up to their leader, great brute that he was, would be an entirely different matter.

Antares gulped, finally in reach of the dark-skinned twit. This, he told himself, will take some – ah – delicacy. Antares almost grinned at the last word. Not that I have much, but

Ming hit the now-blubbering dark kid hard, in the head. Antares blinked – that was blood, there – bloody strong, that chap – there'd be no time for delicacy if the beggar went on like that –

Which he did, half-throwing, half-shoving the boy into a nearby shop window, hard enough that the magically reinforced glass shuddered.

Antares squared his shoulders. It was time to do something –

"Oy, Ming – let him go!"

Ming turned on Antares, quicker than he was used to, but Antares was in no mood to explain himself. This was looking increasingly like a save-first-talk-later issue.

Even if he didn't like the idea.

So he kicked the large, bristling beggar in the shins, hard, grabbing hold of the now-sobbing dark boy and trying to yank him from Ming's strong grip. The beggars around him laughed and cheered as Ming stumbled and let go, but Antares knew very well that their support for him would disappear fast as a criminal with an Invisibility Cloak if he didn't act, and act now.

Said act, of course, involved a scream of "Run, you idiot!" and the slap-slap of the hasty feet of two frightened boys, one sobbing as he followed the other, who was dodging the slightly interested bystanders like a pro.

"Coom back 'ere, Black – yeh snivelling piece o' dragon dung – I'll skin ye – "

"Keep moving, you idiot!" Antares snarled at his all-too-willing companion, who was stumbling pathetically against the rough flagstones as they ducked down a dank Antares knew and used on occasion. "I'll leave you, I swear it – "

"I'm trying – " the boy gasped back. Antares, spotting the exit – which came out, rather fortuitously, on the other side of Borgin and Burkes, darted through it, entering the store briefly to snatch up the book to the sound of "Oy – you, get – " while the shaking, snivelling dark boy crouched at the exit.

Thank Morgana – no beggars here – "Coast is clear – let's go – " But Dark Boy's eyes were widening with even more fear, and he was following Antares hesitantly, despite the threat of the as-yet empty threshold of Borgin's behind them.

"Where are you taking me?" Antares rolled his eyes, shifting the book into his robes, out of sight. The boy was clearly addled in the head –

"Somewhere where Ming won't scrape your face to bits, you idiot. We're going to Diagon Alley – where else?" He moved as quickly as possible, ignoring the dubious look Olive Boy gave him. Best get out of here now – Mum'll be looking for me

And, at the junction where Knockturn Alley begun, Bella was really and truly looking. Waiting. For him. She spotted Antares quickly, as usual, her eyes narrowing dangerously. Antares' heart sunk down to somewhere in the region of his stomach, tightening into a knot the way it did when his mother, Bella, got that look on her face.

The 'I would kill you if you were not my son' look, to be exact. Antares paused for a minute uncertainly, prompting a confused, frightened look from Dark Boy.

"What are we waiting for – "

"Hey! Hey you!"

Antares moved, indecision draining from him as he stepped onto the lighter, friendlier stones of Diagon Alley. The voice of Burke, the younger of the two unsavoury owners of the shop he'd just – er – borrowed the book from, followed him as he dodged out into the street, making a beeline for the tall, severe form of his mother, Bellatrix Black. Dark Boy followed only as far as it took to finally realise the person his rescuer was heading for so insistently, but Antares did not blame him in the least.

His mother, he thought, rather wryly, had what he called a thing about her. Even as he squirmed under her angry grey eyes until she seized hold of him and a shaking Dark Boy, steering them firmly towards Magical Menagerie, he felt a spark of hot pride for her good looks, haughty bearing and – well – thing, which had, many times, gotten them out of scrapes and paying for things they could not entirely afford. Antares looked up at her as she pushed them roughly into the shop, full of unwilling admiration.

Unwilling, because he was definitely in cauldrons of trouble this time. Bellatrix roughly manoeuvred the boys over to a quieter area of the shop, where the lizards and poisonous mammals and reptiles were kept. Most of them, as usual, were napping, their fanged mouths lolling open, forked tongues slithering in and out slowly, sleepily. Antares relaxed a little, despite himself. He'd always felt safer at this end of the shop, where none of the silly performing rats and rabbits gambolled in gaudy cages, showing off pathetically for him.

"Perseus Antares Black," his mother ground out firmly. Antares looked her squarely in the eye, no matter how much those three words, words that only ever came together when Bella was angry at him, made him want to run and dodge. She would – eventually – appreciate that, she always did, when he showed no – no fear –

"Mum, I can explain," he cut in, trying to make his traitorous voice stop trembling. His mother merely tightened her grip on their arms and stared. "Ming – one of the beggars was – er – bothering – er," he glanced at the evermore frightened Dark Boy, "what's your name?"

"Blaise," Dark Boy got out. Bella, of course, wasn't satisfied.

"Blaise what, young man? Speak up, will you – your parents must be beside themselves – " she shot a pointed look at Antares, who gulped.

"Blaise Zabini," Dark Boy – or, rather, Blaise, replied, his shaky voice a little louder this time.

"One of the beggars was roughing him up, Mum," Antares continued, a little desperately. "I had to do something – " He closed his mouth with a snap as Bella's eyes landed on him again.

"Doing something had nothing to do with stealing that thing you shuffled into your robes, Antares," she cut in, coldly.

"I didn't – " Antares began. Another pointed look from his mum had him changing tack. "Okay, so I did take something – it's just a book, they just stuffed it in a corner in the shop, and it looked like no one wanted it – "

"Stole," Mum hissed at him. "The word, as I keep telling you, is stole." Grey eyes met the ceiling. "Why do you do this, Tares?"

"It's nothing valuable, Mum – " Antares began, lying easily. He had to make her believe him – he'd never seen a book like it in the dark shop, and he'd hardly been about to leave it behind when it was small enough to fit easily in his robes –

"We are Blacks, Antares," his mother spat out, twisting him closer with her iron grip, "We are nobleancient – and we do not steal!"

"You've never had any worries about me stealing when we need it, have you?" he shot back, trying, unsuccessfully, to wrench his arm away from her. She always said this, ranting about being noble and ancient and above stealing when their luck ran low, and it galled him, because he did the stealing, when it needed to be done –

His mum's face paled, her fine features pinching slightly. She shot a downward look, suddenly, at the confused Dark – Blaise, standing there and watching them with a slightly confused, guarded look. Her grey eyes held Antares' then, a message shining clearly in them: not here.

Antares crossed his arms, letting the stubborn look come onto his face. So what if he was only ten – he knew more than most boys did – she occasionally treated him like this, as if he was stupid

"Where are your parents, Zabini?" Bella had taken her attention from him, and was now narrowing her eyes at the uncomfortable boy, who gulped slightly as she finally thought to release him.

"Only my Dad's here, Miss," Blaise answered dutifully, rubbing – unconsciously – at his arm. "He told me to wait outside – I was only looking – "

"That's what every stupid brat that gets mugged or hit up down on Knockturn says," Antares said disgustedly. "Wait a minute – you took something from Ming, didn't you?" Scornful hazel eyes raked the dark-skinned boy disdainfully as he hung his head.

"I didn't mean to – "

"You can't take something and not mean to take it, Bleeze," Antares cut in, mispronouncing the name on purpose. He leaned toward the other boy, disregarding his mother's tight hold on him. "Give it – now – I won't be able to go there again, if you don't – "

"And that's not such a bad thing, is it, Antares?" Bella cut in, giving him a dark glare that promised a long, squirm-worthy talk. "Don't think I didn't see old Burke chasing after you as we ran in here – "

"Blaise!"

A cultured, panicked voice interrupted their conversation from behind, prompting Bella and Antares to turn to see who it was. Blaise perked up considerably, moving immediately around Antares' tall mother, careful not to touch or disturb the cages that surrounded them. The speaker – Blaise's father, by the way the twit was hanging onto him now – was a tall, olive-skinned man with arrogant features as haughty and cultured as his voice. His robes, Antares noted, with not a little jealousy, were nothing extraordinary, but practically reeked of shiny Galleons in some shiny vault in Gringotts. Shiny Galleons that Antares and Bella certainly did not have.

Antares scowled as the man greeted his mother courteously, stiffly thanking her for finding his 'errant son', gripping Blaise's already abused right arm with a force that spoke of rather the same sort of talk that Antares himself would eventually be getting. Risking a look at Bella, he found that her face was oddly strained, and that she kept blinking at odd places in the short conversation. He held his breath as Blaise's father reached easily into his robe, never letting go of his son, and withdrew what looked like one of those enlarged purses Antares had seen on the richer sort of wizards.

Antares did not relax at the offer of 'gratitude' – he only hoped Bella would just take the gold – she was odd about charity, accepting it at random times – and they needed it, really, what with the funds from her latest job not coming early enough for the rent –

Thank Merlin – she was gracefully reaching out a calloused hand, accepting the small bag of coins Mr. Zabini had just Conjured and filled with Galleons. Antares' shrewd eyes counted as they rushed into the bag – he'd had to become good at knowing amounts easily and well, as putting yourself in danger for a bag of fifteen Galleons you thought held fifty was a bad way to steal and survive.

At least thirty, he realised, eyes widening. Why, that would be enough

"…and thank you, Master Zabini," Bella was saying carefully, her clipped, low tone telling how much she was unsettled. Antares hid a frown – that was money they were being given, honestly – what on earth can be bothering her? His mother's voice broke, again, through his reflections. "…we are grateful…"

Antares almost smirked. Grateful indeed – they were starved, more like, and would have taken fake gold if the man had been – well – careful not to tell them where he'd gotten it, or –

"I am in your debt, Mrs…?"

"Black." Bella supplied the name easily – shocking her son in the process. They never told their real names to anyone – "Bella – Arabella – Black." She eyed her fidgeting son, who whose eyes contained an expression of heavy disbelief. Antares wondered why on earth – "It was really my son that did the finding, though, sir – " Antares tried to keep from gasping at her unusual courteousness, fought to hear what the rest of what she was saying sounded like. "…and although he got in and out, don't encourage him – they like a challenge, you see…"

Mr. Zabini nodded slowly, his dark eyes turning on the evidently frightened boy that flinched at the glare.

"And you – we have some talking to do – " Antares winced, remembering he'd have his own talk tonight – "…and you'll return the items you took and ask – what's his – oh, Antireth, to forgive you."

"Yes, father." Was the only answer the now rather cowed Blaise returned. He produced, now, a small, beaten pouch that probably contained nothing but the odds and ends the beggars down on Knockturn carried about for protection. Antares sneered as he took it – getting hit in the face for stealing a useless bunch of amulets, for crying out loud – and slipped it into the same pocket that contained the stolen book. At least, he'd be able to return to the Alley without the threat of a beating hanging over him, now. Mr. Zabini tightened his grip on his son, now steering the cowed, unwilling boy away from Bella and Antares.

"Thank you again, Mrs. Black. Come, Blaise – "

And, with that, Zabini the older and Zabini the younger had left the Magical Menagerie.

Bella gazed oddly after them, her face tight as she turned a steely eye on the fidgeting Antares.

"You'll go and return that bag of tricks, Antares," she said, releasing him finally. "Meet me in The Leaky Cauldron in ten minutes – ten, understand?" She eyed him sharply as he hung his head. "And don't think I've forgotten your little steal, either – you'll return it, or pay for it somehow – "

"But mum – "

"Don't argue with me, Antares," she said coldly, hurrying him out of Magical Menagerie. "I still need to collect the week's wages from Madame Malkin's, but that won't take time." She eyed him, standing uncertainly in front of the nearby, busy entrance of Gringotts. "Well? Get on with it, Antares – go, now." And she turned her back on him firmly, and was striding down towards the bustling storefront a few shops away.

Antares scowled, setting off into Knockturn Alley. It would be no use pretending to have returned the book – his mother would search him, of course –


Less than five minutes later, Antares skulked back into the bright, cheery sunshine of Diagon Alley, trying unsuccessfully to wipe his bloody cheek. Ming had been grudgingly pleased to have his amulet collection returned – but Mr. Burke had not been lenient in the least. He'd been deafeningly angry, shouting something about artecracts and wildly flailing his arms and wand.

Antares scowled – he'd been lucky to only get away from the frightening old man with nothing but a graze –

Someone bumped into him, hard. Antares kicked out viciously, in no mood to be gracious at all – people never bothered to watch where they were going –

"Why, you little rat – " A firm hand seized hold of the shoulder of his tattered robes as all sorts of oddly-shaped packages tumbled down into the street. Antares wriggled hard, desperate to get away – Bella would be furious if she didn't find him in the Leaky Cauldron on time – to no avail. Another firm hand grasped his other shoulder, twisting his scowling face into view.

Antares could not believe his eyes – of all the people to run into –

Fear coursed through his limbs, and he did what he'd been trained to do in these situations – bared his teeth and bit.

Hard.

The man let go of his left shoulder with a cry, and that was all Antares needed to get an opening, which he used immediately, kicking out at the man and aiming for between his legs. But the hand only tightened on his right shoulder, flooding him with more fear.

Bella had warned him –

He was so tired, so tired of being cold. Bella was tired too – he could see it in the way her shoulders sagged, the way she desperately quickened her footsteps as the pub lights came into view.

Heat and chatter enveloped them both, warming them beyond belief, even though they had not nearly enough for food of any sort. Bella pushed him roughly towards the fire.

"Go – get warm – "

He went, slipping through the tightly packed crowd with some difficulty, drawn by the flickering flames, dodging easily out of the way when they flared a high green, emitting laughing, conversing people. When he could feel his fingers again, he struggled back to his mother's side at the bar, where she, too, was laughing, though just as cold and hungry. He waited patiently – surely someone would let something fall, and perhaps, they too could buy something to eat

A slight shadow fell across where he huddled, and, pretending nonchalance, he sharply eyed the man that had just appeared beside him. Flexing his fingers, he almost missed the drawn look that crossed his mother's face as he carefully slipped a small hand into the slightly open pouch hanging loosely at the man's side –

"Bellatrix Lestrange – what a surprise – "

The talk around them stilled, but Antares' fingers did not – the pouch was near empty, but –

"What did you call me?" Antares looked up. His mother's voice was so sharp, so strange –

"Fancy," the man said, slowly, smoothly, "seeing you here – in such a state – "

Bella's eyes narrowed into slits as she moved, carefully, away from the bar. "That is not my name…I do not even know who you are– "

"You don't remember me, Bella?" Antares withdrew his hand, shuffling one or two coins into his pocket – they were heavy – had to be Galleons – catching his mother's eye, he nodded, sharply.

"Why would I?" said Bella, coldly, standing tall, eyeing the stranger. "I am no murderer – which is what you must be to know a Lestrange…" The men around her quieted, some of their hands going for their wands. The stranger bristled for a moment, then turned sharply away, shouldering members of the crowd to get to the door. Bella stood for a moment, as if frozen, then, her intense grey eyes landing on Antares, gently set down her glass. Antares slinked, frightened, away to the door, knowing that Bella wanted to leave, but not understanding why

He asked her, when they'd got out into the cold, overcast Diagon Alley. Bella's face twisted with something he'd never seen on it before – fear

"Did you see his face, Antares?" she demanded. At his nod, she paused, ignoring the bustle around them, gripping his cold hands with her warmer ones. "Macnair – Walden Macnair…" Bitterness dripped from her tone as she just stood there, the light snow dusting her long hair, blowing into her re-reddening cheeks. "He's a Death Eater, Antares – a Dark Wizard, of the worst kind…" She looked behind them, almost convulsively. "If you see him again, tonight – any other night – run, hide, don't let him see you, understand?" Her hard grip loosened then, and they were walking again, and Antares forgot the man as he showed her the coins he'd 'found'.

And, late that night, when they'd begged their way into a small inn on Knockturn Alley, his mother held him close, and told him the full story about his real mother, and he'd shuddered, then, when he fully knew just how dangerous Macnair had really been, when Voldemort had been more than just a name…

Macnair spun him violently around, and Antares caught a flash of features contorted with anger before he was shoved towards the various packages that had fallen from the man. One or two seemed to be torn, leaking smoking, viscous liquids.

"See what you've done, boy?" the man snarled, now twisting Antares' arm. "You'd better know a way to repay me for those – they were mandated Ministry supplies!" Antares' heart slowed a notch, even though he'd just gotten himself into even more trouble – at least the man didn't recognise him –

Macnair abruptly let go of the frightened boy, letting him trip and fall, almost onto one of the smoking packages. "You just cost me fifty Galleons, boy – " Antares' heart thudded even faster – Merlin, Bella would skin him –

"Walden?"

The grim man turned abruptly towards the newcomer, who appeared just on the edge of Antares' blinking vision. He somehow avoided the packages, falling on bare flagstone instead. He hit the ground on his hands and knees – you learn things like this, when you're always in trouble – and was up in a flash, ready to escape.

But – "Oh no you don't – " – Macnair's hard grip was on his arm again, and the man was twisting him around to face the other person – a wizard, it looked like – and handing him off.

"Hold the brat for a minute, Severus – won't have him breaking anything else – "

All Antares could do was scowl and think and notice how bloody big a nose 'Severus' had attached to his ugly mug, and squirm, testing the limit of the newcomer's grip as Walden Macnair, muttering angrily to himself, picked up the scattered packages as the crowd around them streamed on by.

"Don't bother trying to escape," came a low, smooth warning from above. Antares wriggled again, just to show the bastard, but was promptly shaken, hard – the way Bella did it. The hook-nosed man began to speak again – "Where are your parents, boy?" The man twisted him round, looking hard into his face, black eyes narrowing oddly.

"Not talking to you," Antares muttered, scowling as he stilled. Hooked Nose raised an eyebrow, still scanning his face.

"It talks," Macnair sneered, now shrinking down the unharmed packages and stuffing them into a pouch he produced from his robes.

"Indeed," Hooked Nose replied dryly, putting a smelly, long-fingered hand to Antares' chin, forcibly turning it this way and that. "Speak up, boy – unless you need a little persuasion – "

Antares bit his lip – Bella must be going spare– and answered, correctly judging as the safest thing to do, when in the hands of a former Death Eater and his friend. Or whoever the hell 'Severus' was – Antares kept back a shiver – he looked much like a Death Eater himself –

"Dead," was his short answer. Hooked Nose snorted, exchanging a glance with Macnair, who, was checking a silver pocket-watch, looking rather disgruntled. "What's it to you, anyway? I don't owe you anything – "

"Wrong," Hooked Nose fished around out of sight, and handed what looked like a Gringotts moneybag to Macnair. "Don't look so pleased, Walden – you'll repay me that sum or find your Firewhiskey laced with something unpleasant come Sunday evening."

"You and your threats – " Macnair shook his head, relieved, now Vanishing the mess the smoking, torn packages had made. "I'll give your money, never you mind – " Looking round, as if in a hurry, Macnair nodded at Severus. "Thanks, Severus – I've got an appointment down on some manor in Tutshill – can't be late for that – " And, with that, he'd disappeared, leaving a slightly less fearful Antares behind with the bored-looking Severus man, who gave him yet another stern appraisal. Antares scowled up at the man, hoping against hope that somehow, somehow, he'd get away –

"You can forget about escaping me this moment, boy," Severus informed him immediately, causing him to jolt in surprise. "Parents dead, indeed – I just saw you leave the Menagerie with someone you seemed to think was your mother." Antares' heart sunk down into his toes – he would be in so much trouble now – "The Leaky Cauldron, I believe it was?" Antares nodded reluctantly at a glare and shake from the man. "Good – follow me, or you'll regret it – "

Antares trudged after the man, heart thudding in his ears. What would Bella say – he'd certainly lost them the lucky windfall from that dark-skinned kid's father now, as well as some of the rent…He sighed and slowed unconsciously, prompting a glare and none-too-gentle push from Severus.

All too soon, they were at the busy archway, and pushing past enthusiastic shoppers to enter the dark dinginess of the Leaky Cauldron. Antares wished hard, for a moment, that Bella had left to – look for him – but there she was, grey eyes flashing with anger as she spotted him, and then – fear, as she saw who he was forcefully escorted by.

The man stopped suddenly, and Antares knew, without a doubt, that he'd seen his mother. His heartbeat seemed to fill his ears as he wondered, horror stringing through his limbs, if this man, too, was a – a Death Eater –

"Severus." His mother was the first to speak, tightly, fear marking her face and posture like a brand. Antares blinked – that was definitely a bad sign, Bella knowing Hooked Nose's name. The man's grip tightened horribly on his abused right arm with that word, and his mother stood very, very still.

What have I done Antares thought, wildly, to himself. If only he'd not taken the damned book –

"Bella…" The man's voice was hoarse – with what, Antares couldn't tell. Bella wasn't even looking at him – just staring straight into Severus' eyes, some kind of conversation taking place without words – The man's grip seemed to lighten, just a bit, as Bella licked her lips, the usual enticing gesture seeming nervous, filled with fear. "The boy…?" Severus' voice faltered as Bella lifted her chin a fraction in what resembled her usual pride.

"My son." Those words made Antares want to cringe, want to hide – if not for him, if not for his stupid, itching fingers and eyes that wanted things, this wouldn't be happening – "Let him go." Please seemed to hang in the air, unspoken –

"You can trust me," the man said slowly, his grip loosening on Antares' arm just a bit – not enough, bloody – "Bella – trust me…"

Bella's cheeks were stained with emotion, her eyes bright with mingled fear and hope. Grey eyes rested on Antares' slightly trembling form for a moment, asking forgiveness.

She nodded. Antares gulped – who knew who this Severus was – who knew if they could trust him –

"I teach at Hogwarts, now," the man offered, his voice lowering enough that no one else could hear them above the rowdy customers in the pub. Bellatrix's eyes widened a little, her breath coming faster. Antares felt a smidgen of hope worm its way into his heart – maybe this wasn't so stupid, trusting this man. He stopped trembling, carefully angling his head so he could see the man's slightly shadowed face. Bella had never told him very much about the only school for wizards in Britain – just that it was a safe place. Surely Death Eaters didn't teach at safe places –

"At Hogwarts," Bella was saying, slowly, nervously licking her lips again. Antares watched the dark head nod above him, and saw how his mother seemed to relax. The man shifted, seeming to twist to see something behind himself. Antares looked too – there was a disturbance at the Muggle entrance – people crowding around it, for some reason –

And then he caught sight of a small brown head and a familiar scar amongst the hubbub, and realised. A half-sneer, half-grimace rose to his face almost involuntarily as the small, round-faced boy was ushered towards them by a greying, familiar-looking wizard.

It was the Boy Who Lived, of course, accompanied by his odd werewolf of a father. Antares rolled his eyes, watching the way normal wizards parted before the pair, who he'd seen enough times in Diagon Alley to grow bored of their (to him) rather plain faces. Antares tried to exchange an annoyed look with his mother, but found that she was not looking at him – her grey eyes were locked on those of the dark wizard beside him, whose grip on Antares' right arm was steadily lessening in severity.

"Come." Severus pulled on Antares arm impatiently, now leading him and Bella towards the large, worn fireplace, which flamed green with Floo powder about every fifteen minutes.

"Where are you taking us?" Bella asked, unusually quiet. Severus gave her a long, even look, before replying.

"Spinner's End – you remember." Dropping two Sickles in the small box nearby, he offered Antares' mother a handful of Floo powder, which she hesitantly took.

Antares watched as she disappeared, after quietly calling out the odd name, the clear message in her eyes lingering with him.

Follow me.

And, though unsure, he stretched out his own hand, and, stepping into the green flames, called out, as quietly as he could, the same thing as his mother.

"Spinner's End!"


A/N: Bloody hell, this was hard to write. Hope y'all enjoy it…A couple questions.

Did you think I characterised Bella properly?

What do you think of 'Antares'?

Does the story sound like it has a plausible explanation at all?

Am I crazy for even attempting this thoroughly?

Do answer – it helps keep me on track.

Oh, and, by the way – Antares means rival of Mars, and is the first star in the constellation of Scorpius. And Perseus means the saviour of Andromeda. So now you know where I got my rather silly names from. :)


EDIT as of 24th November 2005: As y'all see, I've finally made good on my musings about canonising Blaise properly. So now the scene with his dad (or, perhaps, stepdad) means more – the poor man would be really pissed at him for wandering off like that, as he's probably be skewered open by Blaise's mother if anything happened to her, and teh hawt secks or whatever Blaise's mother does so well would slow, decrease, or cease altogether. ;)