Updated: Saturday 3 June 2006

Disclaimer: If I were making money off of this, I wouldn't have to have a full time job that keeps me from updating on time... And if you don't know who it all really belongs to, then you must be lost…

Chapter 19: Encounters

The grate slammed shut with a loud clang! Dinner with the Malfoys was taxing at the best of times, but when it came at the expense of time with his niece at Christmas, Severus had cause to be particularly bitter. Two years had barely passed since his brother-in-law had claimed custody of Estella, and yet it already felt like a lifetime. Estella had changed so much, and making that transition from 'little girl' into a teenager away from the man who had raised her made Severus feel even more ostracised from his niece. He felt as though she was slipping away from him, and recent events did little to quell his fears.

Pouring himself a much needed drink of Fire Whiskey, Severus crossed the room in several long strides and fell dejectedly into his chair. Wearily, he ran a hand across his face and stared into the thick amber fluid in his glass. With Estella in London, the room around him held no evidence of the passing holiday… for the first time in over a decade, no tinsel framed the mantle, and the scent of an evergreen was sorely missing. It was the same as it was in the time before Severus had first taken guardianship of his motherless niece, and as he allowed himself to be enveloped by the oppressive silence in the room, it occurred to him how much he had actually come to enjoy the small concessions he had to make when living with a growing child.

A growing child. Severus rested the edge of his glass against his forehead, allowing the charmed ice within to cool the beginnings of his headache. Irrespective of where she called home, Severus did not like to imagine his niece growing up. Though it hadn't felt like it at the time, things were so much simpler when Estella was small. Now, as he noticed her getting older, things were becoming much more complicated than he could ever possibly have imagined…

The conversation he'd most recently had with his niece had struck him out of the blue. It had both horrified and humoured him… horrified him that Estella would be harbouring such thoughts about any boy, lest of all Harry Potter, and yet humoured him because she had still seen fit to come to him for advice. Not only had he never considered himself on par with the brand of emotional support the girl's godfather – and later, father – could effortlessly lavish upon his niece, but he had been certain that their tenuous bond would have been irreparably damaged in the wake of what had happened on the eve of her birthday. Indeed, Estella had avoided him for several weeks, and in the months since he'd noticed the girl become a little cagey during their reinstated tutoring sessions; though whether that was just because of the subject matter or memories of that night, was anyone's guess.

Now, as uncle and niece spent their first Christmas truly apart from each other, Severus could not help but feel retrospective. The similarities between Estella and his sister were first and foremost aesthetic, but for those who knew Selina well, the likeness between mother and daughter was emerging to be more than just skin deep. There was an undeniable spark that they both shared; a fierce capacity to love - to forgive – and an unmatched power to bring people together. Severus knew that of the three men who had fashioned themselves as Estella's guardians, her protectors, all would go to the ends of the world for their charge. Severus was no exception.

When Estella had first hinted to pursuing a romantic relationship with the likes of Harry Potter, Severus was surprised by his lack of concern. Of course, the idea of a union between his niece and the son of his childhood nemesis grated at him, and he was undeniably relieved when her musings turned out to be nothing more than just that; but if Severus was honest with himself there wasn't much that he wouldn't subject himself to in order to see his niece happy. His raising of her had, after all, been all about giving the girl choices. He had learnt the hard way what imposing his beliefs upon another could do to a relationship, and he did not want to lose his niece in the same way he'd lost Selina. There was nothing he regretted more than trying to get in the way of the direction his sister's heart was pulling her, and so when it came to the living proof of the love Selina had held for his childhood enemy, Severus was committed to support whatever decision she would make, even if it meant that he had to keep his distance.

Glancing up at a picture of his niece as he downed the stale fluid in his snifter, Severus toasted the empty glass at her image.

"Happy Christmas," he whispered to the empty room, hoping that whatever his niece was doing at that moment, she was happy.


"Why can't we just Obliviate everyone? Why not?" said Estella exasperatedly. She had locked herself in her room ever since she and Harry had found themselves trapped under the Weasley twins' mistletoe; she had only let her godfather in when it became clear that all of the other teenagers had left to visit Mr Weasley.

"Come on now, cub, it can't be as bad as all that," said Remus. "I'd rather have kissed Tonks under the Mistletoe than have everyone witness me singing with a woman's voice like that!"

"Oh really," said Estella, side-tracked by her godfather's unwitting admission.

Remus scowled at his goddaughter. "I didn't mean it like that," he said unconvincingly. "A kiss is just a kiss… hardly as humiliating as making a fool of oneself whilst under the influence." He grimaced. "Besides, that's whom the twins were intending to target: Tonks and I."

"It's not the kiss that's bothering me," said Estella testily.

"It's not?" said Remus, looking upon his goddaughter in surprise, infinitely glad that he was present in the room and not Sirius.

Estella threw a cushion at him. "Hypocrite," she said, "you know what I mean. A kiss is just a kiss…"

"But?" said Remus beseechingly.

"But it was my first kiss! In front of everyone… and it was Harry!" said Estella hysterically. "It's not supposed to be Harry! I was supposed to have all that sorted out… now everything is all messed up! You know how that Lust Dust is supposed to work-"

"Perhaps it was erroneously drawing from the platonic feelings you have for Harry," said Remus. "It won't work between people separated by age, or connected by blood – for all the obvious reasons – but it can't be expected to anticipate the nature of the relationship between you and Harry."

"Wait, you're not going to spill some rot about how I should reconsider if I really do see Harry as a brother or if it's something more?" said Estella, mouth agape.

"Now you're confusing me with your father," said Remus. "Even still, I think even Sirius is beginning to realise a few things. He was mad as hell at the twins, and you have no idea how rare it is for Padfoot to not take a joke…" he paused with uncertainty, not quite knowing if it was appropriate to voice his next question. "Are you starting to question the nature of your relationship with Harry?"

Estella ignored her godfather's question, the distant look on her face suggesting that she didn't quite know how to answer the man's query. Instead, she frowned, something Remus had just said to her in passing presenting her with a side of her father that she didn't know. "Dad really got mad? But he loves pranks…"

"Every prankster has his exceptions," said Remus philosophically. "If I wasn't so worried about you, I doubt there would be much of the twins left. Will you be all right, or would you really like for me to try my hand at Memory Charms?"

"You would do that, even after what happened last time?" said Estella, blinking her eyes in surprise. She was, of course, referring to the time when she was a small child and her godfather had taken away her memory of falling off a broom, inadvertently leaving her with a fear of flying; something that took almost a decade to confront. "I wasn't being serious…"

"Good, because I'd probably give everyone a fear of intimacy," quipped Remus, grimacing slightly at the thought.

"Oh, and we couldn't have Tonks with one of those," said Estella dryly, her words coming so fast that it took Remus a moment to catch their meaning.

Between the gales of laughter her godfather solicited from her with a handy Tickling Hex, Estella begged for mercy.

"No fair!" she said, reminding her godfather of the Marauder's Code and how it was unfair to use one's wand on an opponent who could not retaliate in kind. "No under-aged magic!"

"Like that's stopped you before," said Remus challengingly. Before she could take his words as permission, he released her from the spell. "I wouldn't worry too much about what happened, cub. From what Sirius told me, Harry's on the same boat. Seems that something you've said to him has cleared things up in his mind…"

"He likes Ginny, doesn't he?" Estella said suddenly. "That's why he didn't want to be alone with Cho all of a sudden, and how come he's been paying so much attention to how Ron reacts to Ginny dating…" her voice trailed off as she remembered something from the start of term. "Oh this is classic. You know Ginny never got over her crush…"

"How long do you think it will take them to realise it?" said Remus, eyes twinkling

"I don't know," said Estella, "but if the look on Ginny's face when Harry and I were under that Mistletoe is anything to go by, I think I know how we can make the most of what happened…"

They were interrupted at that moment by a sharp knock at her door. Upon finding her door unlocked, the person behind the door took it upon themselves to let themselves in, sticking their head around the edge of the door.

"All right there, kiddo?" said Sirius, the playfulness in his tone doing little to hide his concern. "If you happen to get yourself expelled exacting your revenge I promise not to get mad."

"No,' said Estella, casting a sidelong look at her godfather. "These sorts of things happen for a reason. Now is the time to take advantage of it."

Sirius exchanged a quizzical look with his marauding friend, relieved at the assurances he found there. The last thing he wanted was for Harry to realise feelings for someone else just as his daughter was doing the opposite.

"Oh, right then," said Sirius, moving to duck back behind the door so that he could give his daughter some one-on-one time with her godfather. With Remus absent from most all of the Order meetings she attended, he wasn't going to begrudge the pair some time together. Pausing in his motions, he stuck his head back around the door. "I don't suppose either of you have seen Kreacher lately?"

Remus shook his head, and Estella frowned.

"Come to think of it, Dad, I haven't seen him at all since I got here," said Estella.

"You haven't?" said Sirius in surprise. Being one of the only members of the family the house elf could stand, it surprised Sirius that Kreacher hadn't sought the girl out. "Have you tried calling him? I wonder why he's been upstairs, hiding from you of all people…"

"Maybe he isn't hiding?" said Estella, eyes wide. "If Dobby could leave the Malfoy's house to warn Harry, don't you think it's possible that… I mean, I haven't ordered him to stay in the house have you?"

Sirius swore colourfully, his face paling.

"He's not been able to eavesdrop on our meetings since the end of summer, thanks to you," he said, running through a mental checklist out loud; "and he can't disclose this address to anyone because of the Fidelius Charm…"

"Still, anything that's been said in the hallways outside of the meetings is fair game," said Remus, sucking in a breath. "Bellatrix or Narcissa?"

"Bellatrix," said Sirius without hesitation. "Narcissa can't call on a house elf bound to Black blood; she's not a Black." He ignored Remus' look of surprise and ran a hand through his hair. "Why couldn't I have thought of this? House elves may only be able to leave the house they are bound to if they are given clothes, but they're also supposed to follow orders without question, and he's never bloody done that for me! I should have suspected he'd be nicking off to spill our secrets…"

Ignoring Sirius' rant; the man now fully in the room and pacing wildly, Remus took charge of the situation.

"Estella, if we were to contact Dumbledore and convene a meeting of sorts, do you think you could get Kreacher to come out from wherever he is and answer our questions?" he asked, having stopped the girl from calling upon the elf moments earlier.

"It'll show Kreacher what side I'm on," she said thoughtfully, something Lucius Malfoy had said to her earlier in the term coming to mind. "Lucius Malfoy is still of the impression that I can be swayed to serve the Dark Lord. He believes that I was loyal when I was younger and have been brainwashed by you..."

"You could be endangered," said Remus, adopting Estella's line of thinking. "Lucius Malfoy would never stand for a blood-traitor in his family… and he'd soon as kill you than let the supposed blood debt remain unpaid."

"I'll have to question Kreacher by myself," she said quietly, shuddering slightly at her godfather's bluntness. "Put my Slytherin charm to work… leave it with me, I'll find out what that mangy little elf has been up to – and I'll put a stop to it."

Remembering back to the time he had nearly killed said house elf after finding him in his daughter's room, trying to dose Estella with the re-aging potion their first summer together, Sirius bristled agitatedly, wanting nothing more than to feel the crush of Kreacher's neck between his hands.

"I don't know if I feel comfortable leaving anyone alone in a room with him now," he said. "I know he can't physically harm those of the bloodline he serves, but… Merlin, he could have filled the house with Portkeys and we wouldn't even know!"

Panic rippled through the threesome as they considered the consequences, but then Estella whistled in relief.

"He could well have done that, but you know the wards around this place would have prevented them from being functional," she said. "Only Portkeys created by you, as master of the house, or Dumbledore, as Secret Keeper, can work."

"What about your pendant?" Remus pointed out, curious.

"My uncle created that, yes," said Estella, "but Grimmauld Place is the destination, not the exiting point. And my uncle could create a Portkey to here not just because he's privy to the Fidelius Charm's secret, but because when I activate it, the wards recognise me as having right of entry. But this is all just supposition – there's still a chance Kreacher's just keeping to himself. Make yourselves scarce and I will reign him in before the other's get back."


Kreacher's interrogation had proven a tad more taxing that Estella had anticipated. Armed with a list of directives from the Headmaster, it became quickly apparent that the weedy little house elf had been stretching the boundaries of his blood-bond; visiting Bellatrix ever since the woman's escape from Azkaban several months earlier. With the crazed woman having had the foresight to swear the elf to secrecy, however, getting the two-timing servant to divulge details of what information had been compromised was next to impossible.

When Estella had emerged from her bedroom after a half an hour of fruitless dialogue with the reticent elf, her father had again suggested than an audience with Dumbledore might compel the belligerent elf to comply. Brazened by her subtle blend of Ravenclaw tenacity, Gryffindor stubbornness and Slytherin cunning, Estella refused to let up, confirming their suspicions to her father before heading back to the bedroom for another round with the 'incapacitated' elf. Several hours of clever thinking and resourcefulness later, and Estella had emerged from her bedroom looking decidedly smug.

"He won't be leaving the house again," she said grimly, handing over a piece of parchment about a foot long. "Thanks to the Imperturbable Charms on the pantry and boiler doors that I suggested at the start of term, it looks like he's had nothing of interest to report. You'll want to dredge up the minutes of meetings before then – make sure nothing that was discussed is still in practice. Kreacher may have admitted to disappearing several times over the past few weeks, but I reckon he just kept going back to Bellatrix because he was infatuated with her. In any event, Bellatrix hasn't been too pleased about the lack of information he's had to share – all those times you thought he'd been punishing himself, it's been her!"

As Sirius and Remus poured themselves over Estella's meticulous notes, the exhausted teen leaned against the scarred plaster of her father's bedroom wall, her mind ticking over the lengthy encounter that had wound itself up just moments earlier. It had been emotionally and physically taxing to simultaneously extract information from the canny elf whilst maintaining her applied persona around the underestimated servant.

Kreacher, in turn, had been equally dismayed and suspicious of Estella's anger, and so she had walked a fine line between expressing her disappointment at the elf's effective betrayal and letting her true allegiances be known. She had almost hit a snag when the elf had relayed to her Bellatrix's wish for them to meet; Kreacher's revelation taking her by complete surprise. Of course, in hindsight, it had made perfect sense that her father's insane cousin would want to meet the youngest heir of the bloodline and exert her influence over her half-nephew's intended suitor, but being on the crazed woman's agenda had never been something Estella had consciously considered. Having to explain to the house elf, then, why she had no inclination to accept her distant relative's invitation for a clandestine meeting was something Estella hadn't counted on having to do; but it was made infinitely easier by the physical injuries the escaped prisoner had inflicted upon the loyal elf.

"You may not appreciate my reasons for permitting my grandmother's house to be filled with… with wizards of a kind she would not have approved of, but haven't I always been fair and considerate with you, Kreacher?" she had asked the reticent elf when it had appeared that he was not going to let up on the subject of his 'favourite two mistresses meeting'.

"Oh yes, Little Mistress is being very gracious to Kreacher," Kreacher had responded honestly, his bug-like eyes bulging at the implication that he had just given his beloved mistress another reason to be disappointed in him.

Upon seeing that the guilty elf looked as though he wanted to punish himself, Estella had stood firm, reminding Kreacher of an order she had given the elf over the summer, one that insisted that he not punish himself in her presence. Turning the tables even more, she had then apologised to the elf for assuming that his bruises were self-inflicted and thus failing in her duty as 'head of the line' in not controlling the sadistic urges of other family members. Kreacher was putty in her hands after that, the bewildered elf so unfamiliar with compassion that he had fallen into a quivering heap at her feet, beseeching protection from his 'mean mistress' as he poured out all of Bellatrix's secrets.

The interrogation now over, Estella was infinitely proud of her success. Not only had she maintained her favour with the fickle elf, but she had strengthened the bond between them. As much as a loyal house elf might feel compelled to punish themselves for letting their master down, they were still a living being; still prone to a measure of self-preservation… house elves of a Slytherin household particularly. The choice, then, between a mistress who abhorred violence and one who derived joy out of its deliverance was a simple one for the repentant house elf, and he had welcomed the order to ignore the elder Black woman's call.

Turning her attention to the two men before her, Estella began to shift her weight from foot to foot; altogether curious about the warring emotions playing across both man's faces as they learned of the extent of the elf's treachery.

"It'll be all right, won't it?" she said, "I mean, no one's died because of this, have they?"

"No," said Sirius considerately, looking up from the long scroll of parchment he was reading. "But on the question of punishment… his head ought to be on that wall!"

Estella frowned. Growing up practically surrounded by house elves, she was more than familiar with the codes of conduct applicable to bonded elves. As descendents of the direct line, Kreacher was obligated to honour and obey both her father and herself over the directions of an extended relative such as Bellatrix Lestrange. The problem was, neither father or daughter could quantitatively say that they had expressly forbidden the elf from either leaving the house or heeding the call of extended relatives, and he quite simply could not be punished for doing something that his masters had not expressly forbidden him to do – especially when it had been her 'compassion' that had coerced the confession they now had in front of them. Reminding her father of the situation, the Animagus groaned.

"Why does this sound familiar," he shook his head humourlessly, reminded of how his daughter had woven her way out of trouble after her shopping expedition days earlier. Rubbing at his forehead distractedly, Sirius expelled a calming breath. "All right," he said resignedly, "we can't kill him or punish him… but how can we ensure he doesn't leave the house again?"

Estella handed him another sheet of parchment, this one listing a long, thorough list of directives that she had imposed upon the elf. "Feel free to add to that," she said stiffly. "I really tore strips out of him though, and he seems to care a lot more about what I think than you. He wasn't too pleased with himself when he realised how upset I was – and he knows that I won't stand for it again."

Out of the gaze of the two men as they turned their attentions to the additional roll of parchment she had handed them, Estella grimaced. Yes, she had chastised the house elf, but 'tearing strips out of him' was a bit of a stretch. She'd yet to tell either man how she had succeeded in her interrogation, and whilst she felt that Remus would understand the logic behind her actions, Estella knew that her father would never comprehend the benefits of treating an elf like Kreacher with anything less than contempt.

To be unnecessarily nice to a house elf, he would say, would blur the lines between master and servant; opening doors to questions that a reverent house elf would never take it upon themselves to ask. And indeed Kreacher had started to ask things of his young mistress; first wanting to know why she did not utilise Bellatrix to expel her father from the house of Black and rid the line of the blood traitors all together; and then pulling Estella's allegiances into question when she had turned down the woman's invitation. After reminding the misguided elf that he had no right to pose such questions, she had nevertheless humoured the repentant elf with an explanation, intent on covering all her bases. The Black family, she knew, may have been considered 'Dark' in its prime, but its proudest members bowed to no Lord. Banking on this, she reminded the elf of Regulus' death, favourably capitalising on Bellatrix's continued allegiance to the man who had killed him in a way that effectively removed the elf's fixation with the woman and transferred that level of attachment to herself. Only time would tell how Kreacher's renewed obsession with her would play itself out…

"What did you threaten him with?" said Sirius eagerly, cutting off Estella from her thoughts. It was widely known between those present in the room that it had always bothered Sirius that, although the spiteful elf was bound to serve him, he had never been able to make the elf truly repentant.

"Let's hope we'll never have to find out," Estella said darkly, absently noting that at least she had been accurate in recounting the conclusion of her discussion with the elf. "Some stains never wash off…"

"Oh, er, right then," said Remus, slightly taken aback by the look on his goddaughter's face. He could sense a fierce protectiveness radiating out of the small child, and he suddenly pitied a person – or elf – who ever chose to endanger one of her family. The wolf in him crowed in appreciation, finding kindred his cub's emerging instincts. Reeling back, the human side of Remus was almost giddy at the sensation; it was not often that his lupine form expressed itself so clearly in his human mind.

"Uncle Remus, are you all right?" said Estella, bringing him back to his senses.

"Yeah mate, you look a little pale," said Sirius, rounding on his friend. Holding up the first sheet of parchment, he attempted to soothe his friend's worries. "It doesn't look like any real damage has been done… though it's a damn good thing one of us had the brains to extend the Privacy Charms to the pantry door and such."

Remus nodded distractedly, "yes, yes, I'm fine. You did extremely well, cub. Things will have certainly have been worse if not for your input. The Order will be pleased."

Basking in the praise of two of the most important adults in her life, Estella beamed and nodded. Two days into the New Year, when Dumbledore came to visit, she answered her private summons with pride. It chuffed her to think that her father and godfather had thought so highly of her to allow her to report the findings from Kreacher's interrogation personally.

Unsurprisingly, the Headmaster was visibly relieved to learn that any information that the house elf had been able to pass on to the enemy was several months old. At the time it had struck them as strange that certain covert operations of the Order were being circumvented and attacked by Death Eaters or Ministry officials corrupted by the Dark Lord; but no serious damage had been caused. Passing on his gratitude to the resourceful girl for helping to further secure their meeting room, truly making it Imperturbable, conversation quickly moved on to other matters.

"Thank you for my book, sir," said Estella, settling back in her chair, folding a duplicated copy of Kreacher's statement and the orders she had issued him and setting it aside for her own records. "It was wise of you to mask it as a gift from my uncle."

"That's quite all right, child," said Dumbledore congenially. "Though I must confess that it has been yours by right for some time now and I should have passed it on to you much sooner."

Estella shrugged. "It's all right, I mean, I saw a copy in the library ages ago, so I could have read it all by now if I had had the time-"

"Ah, so you found that copy, did you?" said Dumbledore, smiling wistfully. His look was all together too knowing, and Estella felt compelled to go read the book cover to cover to find out if being able to find the book meant anything in particular. She'd heard of books that could only be seen by intended recipients. A variant of the notice-me-not Charm was common in keeping teenaged journals from prying eyes.

"Care to give me an abridged version, Professor, or are you still going to insist that I conduct my own research?" she said. "I know what Fawkes did sets me apart somehow… I can only guess that that book will explain it?"

The Headmaster inclined his head. "I could tell you what I know, of course, but your journey is your own," he said. "The Phoenix's intentions differ for everyone, and the book reflects that."

Now Estella was intrigued. Her eyes flicked instinctively towards the door and she began to fidget in her chair. His eyes glinting indulgently, the whimsical headmaster smiled slightly and nodded.

"Go on, child," he said dismissively, gesturing towards the door. "Go and make productive use of the rest of your holidays."

Tearing out of the headmaster's makeshift office in her father's ancestral home, Estella ran down the hallway and headed directly up to her room. Ignoring the curious calls of the house's many guests as she caught their eye as she passed, she muttered something unintelligible about doing homework and continued on her way.

"Definitely a Ravenclaw," said Ron, the Weasleys having almost crashed into the preoccupied girl as they crossed paths in the entrance hall, the sizable group having just returned from bringing Mr Weasley home from St Mungo's. "That charged up about homework? Bloody mental if you ask me…"

Beside him, Hermione looked on at the back of the retreating girl, her eyes glistening in appreciation. After enduring another half hour of the disorganised chaos around her as the returned group of teens settled into the library for an afternoon of raucous games and laughter, Hermione gathered up her things and followed in Estella's wake. When Estella had barrelled out of the master study, almost colliding with them in the entrance hall, she had muttered something about studying, and after an afternoon being outnumbered by loud redheads, the idea of settling down with a good book, surrounded by peace and quiet was highly appealing.

"What are you studying?" said Hermione casually, closing the door behind her as she let herself into the bedroom she and Ginny shared with the girl. "I do hope I am not disturbing you-"

"No, no, it's fine," said Estella resignedly, schooling her face into a neutral expression. Once she got engrossed in her reading, she really didn't like being interrupted, for it made her forget everything she just read, but the damage was done; it wouldn't pay to dwell by lashing out at the older teen. Closing the old, thick, leather-bound tome, a finger trapped between the pages to keep her place, Estella forced a smile onto her face. "The others driving you crazy? Old houses like these… the sound of screaming teenagers does tend to carry up through the un-warded vents. I take it the twins challenged Ginny to a game of Exploding Snap?"

Hermione flopped down on her bed and rummaged around the side table for her book, nodding all the while.

"And Ron and Harry are debating the finer points of fair play in Chess," the older girl added pointedly. Seeing the distracted look on Estella's face, however, the bushy-haired Gryffindor frowned. "I was disturbing you, wasn't I? I'm sorry, I should have knocked-"

"Hermione, this is as much my room as it is yours and Ginny's. If I wanted privacy, I can think of a dozen other places in this house that I wouldn't be found in," said Estella half-heartedly, inwardly thinking that she might have been better served hiding away in one of those said places. The bedroom reserved for her uncle when he stayed at Headquarters, for instance, would have been ideal, seeing as its occupant would not be visiting any time soon. She scowled at the thought, doubly so when she saw the apologetic look on the Gryffindor's face. "I mean it Hermione. This isn't my room, not really. Grimmauld Place may technically belong to my father, but this isn't our home."

Hermione looked as though she was considering this for a moment before nodding decisively.

"So what are you studying for, anyway? Anything I could help you with?" she asked, twisting her head to read the spine of the book Estella was holding. In the year before Estella was due to start at Hogwarts, Hermione had met the younger girl in the school's library and had taken to educating her about the Muggle world in exchange for information about a primary wizarding education. Though they had not really associated as much in recent years, it was not unusual for them to display a lingering interest in each other's academic pursuits. Taking in the title of the book, Hermione's lips thinned. "101 Ways to Stuff a Chicken. A cookbook, Estella? Is this part of your 'give Mrs Weasley a break' campaign?"

Hiding her shock expertly – her book must be under a charm, she realised – Estella covered seamlessly.

"Oh, yeah," she said sheepishly, making a mental note to find a real cookbook sometime soon. "No less ambitious than trying to clothe the entire population of house elves."

"Point taken," said Hermione primly, making herself comfortable on her bed and opening her Charms text.

The pair read on from their respective books, companionable in their silence. Realising that she would need to start taking notes if she had any chance of retaining the information she was reading, Estella eyed her roommate warily. Though the studious Gryffindor was too absorbed by her own reading to pay any attention to the intense grey stare currently trained on her, Estella didn't want to risk any more questions – something she knew would be coming from the overly curious fifth year if she was to suddenly start making notes.

Picking up her book, she stretched lazily and strolled casually towards the door. When, as predicted, Hermione looked up from her book and trapped her with an enquiring look, she leant against the doorframe and shrugged nonchalantly.

"I'm just going to sneak this book downstairs and verify that I have what I need," she said vaguely. She knew she wasn't being entirely honest by implying that she was going to the kitchen to check the status of the pantry, but it was not her fault that Hermione couldn't conclude that she was actually going downstairs to her uncle's room, to verify that she was who the book claimed she now was. Despite her casual, unhurried pace, she actually couldn't wait to secure some privacy; but slipping away without getting Hermione on her tail was somewhat important. It wasn't that she wanted to keep secrets, she just wanted to know more about things for herself before she opened herself up to scrutiny. It was slightly disconcerting that Dumbledore should know all this and not take it upon himself to tell anyone sooner.

Blessedly, Hermione's suspicions were not piqued by her departure, and the retreating girl met no one on her way to her uncle's lodgings on the floor below. In the time since Grimmauld Place had been made the headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix, its alumni had pooled their resources to spell the house with a complex array of Wizarding Space charms, with the aim to provide each Order Member separate lodging. However, due to the restrictive nature of the wards that secured the property from detection, the house could not be expanded as much as was preferred, so most members either had shared the use of a room on a rotational basis (not all Order members were active all the time) or they lived there full time, with a roommate.

Most members had argued that as an adult, unattached wizard, Severus Snape ought to have accepted a room on a share basis, but Estella was persistent. In a campaign that her father actually approved of, her uncle was not only assured a room of his own in any house Estella was to be found in, but valid reasons why the man needed privacy were put forth and accepted by the majority. As the only potions expert and a spy to boot, the man kept odd hours and often needed space to 'wind down' from a meeting with the other side; the decision to allocate Severus Snape with his own room further assisted by the unspoken fact that no one particularly cared to share a room with him anyway. By then opening up her own bedroom to any female teenagers that should require accommodating, Estella had effectively traded her own privacy for her Uncle's, negating the argument that her uncle's needs could not be accommodated.

Muttering the password to her Uncle's room – something all the adult's rooms were protected by – Estella let herself into the musty interior and made a beeline for the man's desk. When her uncle had realised that there may become a time where the war escalated to the point where it may be safest to base himself at Grimmauld Place, he had transported furnishings from his own ancestral home to appropriately dress his room. The old roll-top desk, for instance, Estella recognised as being filched from her mother's childhood bedroom, and the cabinet that her uncle had installed to keep his private potions store was relocated from his private lab at the estate.

Making herself comfortable on the swivelling leather desk chair that had once called her maternal grandparent's library home, Estella pulled ink, quills and parchment from their various compartments in the desk, opened up her book and began to read. The book, claimed to be the most comprehensive about the magical bird, was largely concerned with breeding processes and the expected protocol when approaching a wild Phoenix. Only a handful of pages were of direct relevance to her, but the information therein was not about quantity as it was about quality. Beginning to reread the section she had just come across when Hermione had interrupted her, she paused only to attach the nib Draco had given her to the end of one of her uncle's quills before scratching away furiously at her parchment.

Once she had finished her reading, she poured herself over her notes, frowning intently at the information contained therein. If all she'd just read were true, then all domesticated Phoenixes were descendents of Merlin's Familiar, Isis, and carried with them the key to the 'Knowledge of the Ages'. It was a widely accepted fact that one of the key defining differences between bonded Phoenixes and those that had no wizard Familiar, was that their personality was retained throughout each burning and rebirth. This, as she had just learned, was because of a special bond between bird and wizard… because the Phoenix could draw upon its Familiar on Burning Days to retain not only its own personality, but also the knowledge of its ancestors, the selection of a Phoenix's Familiar was more akin to a wand's propensity to choose its best suited wizard.

After then reading how a Phoenix chose its Familiar, Estella began to appreciate why the book had been disguised. The process was identical to what she had experienced at her first Order meeting, and the subsequent revelation that a Phoenix chose its new Familiar six to eighteen months before the death of their current Familiar shocked her to the core. This was why Dumbledore was in no rush to explain things to her. This was why he had left it up to her to try and find this book herself… he was dying. And if his newfound interest in making sure she read the book over the Christmas holidays was any indicator, Estella could only assume that it would be soon.

Her hands gripping the edges of her parchment, Estella expelled a breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding. Questions swam around her mind dizzyingly, and an overriding feeling of violation rippled through her; she'd not asked for this.

"Fawkes!" she called out. Though it had been her intention to call the bird to her, it still surprised her when the avian flashed into the room through a wall of magical flame.

Staring at the almost empathic creature, Estella almost found herself swept up by an innate feeling of peace and acceptance.

"No!" she protested, breaking eye contact. "I'm not just going to roll over and accept this! I want answers!"

Fawkes considered her for a moment before cocking his head to the side, as though bemused. Seeing this, Estella glared at the bird who was silently mocking her. Finding a measure of satisfaction in tearing off a strip of parchment from the bottom of the page she was working with, she scribbled a short note to the Headmaster, the nib pressing so hard against the page that it almost tore through. Folding her message over roughly, without waiting for the ink to dry, Estella stood and thrust the note out towards the bird.

"Take this to Dumbledore," she said, giving the phoenix an accusing look. Once the bird had flashed out of sight, Estella flopped down on her uncle's bed and flung out her arms on either side of her. "Why me?" she asked the ceiling.

No sooner had Estella pulled herself out of her funk, sitting up and rubbing at her face agitatedly, did the great bird return. Accepting the tidy little scroll from the offered talon, Estella broke the wax seal and unravelled the headmaster's return message.

Do not discuss this with anyone. I will explain when we next meet. Fawkes will remain with you as long as you require.

Enjoy the remainder of your Christmas holiday.

"What?" Estella growled at the parchment, repeating her question when she looked up at the Phoenix. "He just expects me to sit here like a mindless drone and enjoy the remainder of my Christmas holiday? Was he dropped on his head as a baby? He's losing his Gobstones…"

Estella continued on her rant, the steam slowing issuing out of her as she vented her frustrations. Before she knew it, Fawkes was sitting beside on her on the bed, crooning to her softly whilst she mindlessly petted the magnificent bird's downy plume.

"Don't think I don't know what you're doing, bird," she said resignedly. "I'm still mad, you know. Don't think you can just hum a tune and I would forget that!"

Fawkes cawed smugly, prodding at Estella's hand with his head to try and get her back on task. Relenting, Estella resumed her hypnotic petting of the indulgent bird, finding herself becoming inexplicably at ease with the situation.

'What's done, is done,' she admitted to herself, vowing to stop dwelling on that which could not be changed, instead concentrating on finding ways to use this to her advantage.

'It's a pity that most all other books on phoenixes dispel all this as a myth,' she grumbled inwardly, her thoughts again drifting to the answers she could only assume that the headmaster would be able to provide. As her mind began to wander, she began to wonder how the headmaster would grant Fawkes his leave to stay with her 'as long as she required'. In the last paragraph of the chapter she had been reading, the author had stated two things: one, that a Phoenix never let its new Familiar be known until that witch or wizard was capable of 'protecting themselves'; and two, owners of Phoenixes made a point of scattering themselves around the world and ensuring that no two bonded witches or wizards were in 'known close proximity' to each other.

Flicking through the rest of the book, there had been a passing reference to a ritual – involving all of the descendents of Isis and their human Familiars – that could invoke the 'Knowledge of the Ages' into conscious thought, channelling all that power into a chosen third party 'deemed worthy'. Picturing Voldemort capturing all the Phoenixes and their owners and coercing them into providing him with all that power, Estella understood the need for secrecy, and was eternally grateful that history had come to regard the phenomenon as myth.

"I bet you were bonded to a Phoenix," said Estella aloud, closing the book and running her fingers over the embossed woven lettering of the author's name. "I bet you wrote this book and then deposited copies only where people like me and Dumbledore could find them…"

Taken by the realisation that she had just consciously placed herself in the same esteem as her headmaster, Estella blinked. Turning to her Phoenix, unaware of the moment when she had first began to think of the bird in that way, she mused.

"I don't think I'll ever really understand why you picked me… I don't hold a candle to Dumbledore!" she said, not so much self-effacingly than stating established fact. Albus Dumbledore was one of the most powerful, influential wizards in the living world, and never in her wildest dreams would she ever become as strong. "Skunk's going to get jealous if you stick around, you know… and I already have an owl that I've next to no need to use! Just what am I supposed to tell everyone, anyway? They're going to want to know the reason why you're suddenly around me."

As though in response, Fawkes vanished from sight, leaving Estella 'alone' in the room just as someone knocked on the other side of the door.

"That's if anyone actually sees you," she muttered, "right."

"Estella, are you in there?" her father's voice sounded rattled, broken up by the urgent pounding of his fist on the door.

"Uh, yeah?" she called out cautiously, approaching the door.

"Open the door?" her father asked, relief imminent in his tone.

Mumbling her assent, Estella opened the door and was greeted by the visage of her father looking torn between concern and anger.

"Everyone's been looking for you for nearly an hour!" said Sirius exasperatedly, pulling his daughter into his arms. "Did you not hear?"

"No, I must have gotten really caught up in my reading," said Estella distractedly, tilting her head back towards the desk. "I'm sorry, I didn't think anyone would notice…"

"Of course I would notice!" said Sirius, gripping his daughter firmly by the shoulders and giving her a little shake. "You missed dinner… I've been worried sick."

"Dad, I really didn't mean to read through dinner, but wherever else did you think I'd gotten to?" said Estella, unable to believe that so much time had passed. "It's not like anyone can leave the house without you knowing about it!"

"I don't know," said Sirius, running a hand over his weary face. "I just didn't think of looking here – I didn't know you had the password."

"Of course I have the password. He's my uncle!" said Estella, holding her chin up high. "And before you ask, I didn't tell you that I knew, because I knew that if you knew that I knew you wouldn't let up about finding out the password for yourself so you could nosey on about."

At his daughter's pointed look, Sirius stopped his eyes from wandering beyond his daughter's shoulders and had the good graces to look sheepish.

"Just what were you doing in here, anyway?" he asked, deflecting attention away from his own missed opportunities. "Hermione said that you'd gone down to the kitchen with a cookbook. It's not like you to lie, kiddo. What's going on?"

"I didn't lie!" said Estella, crossing her arms across her chest. "I resent that! All I said to Hermione was that I was going downstairs with my book. It's not my problem that she thought I was reading a cookbook. I'm not the one who Charmed it to look different!"

"What are you doing reading a disguised book?" said Sirius, his eyes narrowing. "Where did you get it?"

"The headmaster gave it to me for Christmas," she said. At her father's pointed look, she elaborated, "he disguised it as a gift from my uncle because he didn't want to be seen giving to one, but not to all. You didn't really suppose that my uncle would pass on the opportunity to exchange gifts with me in person? He's always given me my gifts personally."

"But I haven't, is that what you're saying?" said Sirius sullenly, his daughter's affirmation touching on one of his sore points – the nature of the closeness between his daughter and her uncle; the history he had been denied.

Estella looked abashed. "I didn't say that!" she said, "I didn't even intend to imply that! I was just stating a fact! As for the book, surely you trust the headmaster to not give me anything that would be harmful… if you must know, it's a book about phoenixes."

Sirius nodded hesitantly. "Does this have something to do with what Fawkes did at your first meeting?" he said.

Estella smirked, and she nodded. "Yep, and to think Mum wrote that you were a few Quaffles short of a Quidditch match," she grinned. Dumbledore may have directed her to not discuss the situation with anyone, but her father wasn't anyone. "Were you holding back, or did you just get smarter with age?"

"Oh, almost everyone paled in the shadow of your mother's brilliance," Sirius recounted fondly, before nudging his daughter playfully. "I dare say her daughter has had a good influence over me, too."

"Mmm, yes," said Estella in mock seriousness. "It's a good thing she didn't turn out to be her father's daughter then. Regression is not a good thing."

Pulling his daughter into a headlock, Sirius ruffled Estella's hair and chuckled, all the while trying to see past his child and into the room behind her. When she instead prepared to step out of the threshold and close the door behind her, he pouted.

"Not even one look?" he asked, sticking out his bottom lip and craning his neck over the top of his daughter's head. "C'mon, be a sport! It's my house!"

"No!" said Estella, shoving her father playfully in the chest, pushing him out of her way. "Not only does my uncle have ways of detecting who has been in amongst his things, but being Master of this household does not give you the right to let yourself into the private rooms of those you have given lodgings to. My uncle may not be here, but I have an open invitation."

"You could have stowed away in my room if you wanted a bit of peace and quiet," said Sirius, bristling slightly as his insecurities settled once more. Examining his daughter's expression closely, his eyes widened as he realised something. "You miss him, don't you?"

Lowering her head, Estella sighed. "Yes. Yes I do," she said quietly. When her eyes met her father's once more, they were clouded with conflict. "No one here seems to understand how I could possibly miss him, because he's everybody's most-hated teacher… but, but he's my uncle."

Wrapping his arms around his daughter's shoulders – she could fetch her notes from her uncle's rooms later – Sirius led her down the hall. "His birthday's coming up next week, isn't it?"

"The ninth," said Estella, halting in her step and looking up at her father expectantly, altogether surprised that her father was actually aware of that fact. "You wouldn't… I mean, would you… could I…"

"-Head back to the school to spend the last week of the holidays with your uncle?" finished Sirius, looking down fondly at his daughter. Tightening his hold around her shoulders, he squeezed her encouragingly and smiled. "I would think that's only fair, wouldn't you?"

"You really wouldn't mind?" said Estella, eyes lighting up.

"Well, you can always Portkey back and forth," he suggested thoughtfully. "I am sure Albus is still capable of overseeing that without Dolly dearest catching on… and perhaps it would do us some good for that woman to see you in your uncle's care over the holidays." He paused, "but then again, perhaps it's not good idea – I don't want you going anywhere near Lucius Malfoy-"

"-and if Umbridge passes on to him that I am 'out of hospital' and back with my uncle, he will likely request a visit that my uncle will be hard pressed to refuse…" said Estella, frowning.

"Don't worry, kiddo," said Sirius. "We'll figure something out. Maybe you'll just have to make sure Umbridge doesn't see that you're back. Would being confined to your uncle's quarters be a problem?"

"Nope," said Estella, smiling breezily. "It'd be great to spend a week with him – it's been so long since it was just the two of us."

Sirius looked rather disconcerted, and he stiffened slightly. "Yes, well," he said awkwardly. "Just so long as you don't have any designs to make that permanent…"

Whacking her dad on the arm with the book she held in her hand, Estella shook her head in amusement. "My home is here with you, and Moony, and Harry," she said. "And I have respite with my Uncle Sev – a perfect balance!"

"Well, I'm glad that we all could accommodate to your needs," said Sirius wryly, poking his daughter in the ribs. "Heaven forbid what may happen if you do not get the 'perfect balance'."


Harry stood in the open doorway and cleared his throat a second time. Knocking on the door frame had also failed to get a result, and it wasn't until he stopped and really listened that he could hear it: the faint, tell-tale thrum of music… Estella was listening to her walkman. Feeling only slightly guilty for what he was about to do, Harry rubbed his hands together and entered the room, intent on sneaking up on the preoccupied girl. Strictly speaking, he wasn't doing anything wrong; they'd long since established an open door, open invitation policy, but if Estella wasn't departing for Hogwarts later that evening, he knew he'd think twice before giving her a fright.

"What can I do for you, Harry?" said Estella suddenly, not looking up from her desk.

Harry jumped, Estella's voice cutting through the silence catching him unawares… nothing in her body language had indicated that she'd become aware of his arrival.

"How did you know it was me?" he asked dumbly, closing the distance between them and turning to lean against the edge of the desk Estella sat in front of.

Estella put down her quill and pushed her chair out from the desk so that she wouldn't have to crane her neck to look up at the standing boy.

"You're the only person in this house whose shadow reflects lights," she said, gesturing towards his glasses. "So where are the others?"

"Huh?" said Harry distractedly; when he'd snuck away to see Estella, he hadn't expected to be talking about the other teenagers. "Oh, they're er, in the drawing room playing Clue. The twins are looking to adapt a wizarding version…"

"Good idea," said Estella, nodding. Leaning forward, she reached behind Harry to grab her pre-addressed envelopes and busied herself stuffing them with the Thank You cards she had been filling out when Harry arrived. "So why aren't you playing?"

His eyes drawn to the shiny silver nib at the end of Estella's quill, Harry picked up the feather and avoided her gaze. "Can't a guy come and visit with a friend before they leave?" he muttered, examining the quill closely for lack of anything else to fixate on.

Estella put down the envelope she had just folded closed and motioned for Harry to pass her a purple wax stick. Pausing to melt the end of the wax with her wand, she dripped some on the thick, creamy parchment and stamped it with the Black coat of arms before responding. "A friend?" she said with a measure of distaste, an eyebrow raised. Raising the envelope up to her face and blowing on it to dry the wax seal, she looked up at Harry. "Is that all I am to you – a friend?"

Harry gesticulated widely with the quill in his hand. "You know what I mean!" he said exasperatedly. Ever since Christmas night, when he and Estella had found themselves stuck under the Weasley twins' cursed Mistletoe, things between the pair had become somewhat awkward. For while the teens were resolved to maintaining a platonic relationship, the memory of their kiss – the coveted 'first' for both – haunted them; particularly whenever they were alone together. Catching Estella's eye and blushing as he was reminded of the expression therein whilst they were both intoxicated by the Weasley's Lust Dust, he looked back down at the quill in his hand. "What sort of quill is this? I haven't seen it before-"

Estella sniggered. "Trust the Seeker to be drawn to small, shiny pieces of stationery," she said, relaxing slightly. "I would not normally peg a guy for being so observant, but for your piece of mind I haven't really used this nib around people… I keep it amongst my private supply in my trunk because I wouldn't want to lose it in class, or in the library…"

"What, is it expensive or something?" said Harry, pulling the precious metal from the feather and holding it up to the light.

"I wouldn't know," said Estella with a shrug. "Draco gave it to me-"

"What?" Harry blurted, dropping the offending nib in shock. It fell to the floor with a slight tinkle.

"Harry!" Estella scowled in horror, both admonishing him for dropping the writing tool so carelessly and reacting so childishly. Sliding from her soft leather desk chair, she fell to her knees and began clawing around for the silver tip. "Blast! It's wedged between the floorboards! I can't believe you, Harry – dropping silver so carelessly! What if Moony comes walking in here barefoot and I can't get it out?"

Sighing heavily, Harry joined Estella on the floor and, kneeling shoulder to shoulder, he snatched her hands away from where they were clawing at a knot in the wood grain. "Stop that! You'll give yourself a splinter!" he begged her.

Estella fought against Harry's hold on her wrists but it was no use. "We have to get it out!" she said in a panicked voice. "I can't just leave silver lying around-"

Releasing her wrists only to secure a grip higher up her arms, Harry pulled her up gently and shook her.

"Estella, calm down!" Harry whispered firmly, increasingly worried at how something so minor had set the girl off. "We'll get Padfoot to summon it if we have to – it will be okay, we'll get it out!"

Blinking slowly as Harry's words sunk in, Estella frowned and, shaking her head dismissively, she pulled out her wand and summoned the nib out of the wood. Ignoring Harry's questioning look, she swiftly pocketed the ornately crafted metal before it could spark any more fires, pulled herself up and slumped back down in her chair.

"Sorry… I over reacted, didn't I?" she said sheepishly, altogether confused why she didn't just think of summoning the nib herself in the first place. She ran a hand over her face, opening her mouth to speak, but words failed her.

Rubbing his hands on his thighs nervously, Harry hesitated before rising and perching himself on the edge of the desk, beside Estella. "It was more than just dropping silver, wasn't it?" said Harry, his brow furrowed. Reaching out to pat her shoulder, he thought better of it and retracted his hand awkwardly. "Look, I'm sorry for freaking out… it's not really my business if you want to accept gifts from Malfoy. I was just surprised, is all…"

"I know," sighed Estella. "I would be surprised if you hadn't reacted that way…" she took a deep breath and looked Harry in the eye. "I'm just… oh Harry, it's just so confusing!"

"You too, huh?" Harry averted his eyes and chuckled nervously.

"It doesn't change things… I mean, it won't… it shouldn't…" Estella rambled hopelessly.

"But it feels different?" said Harry knowingly.

Estella shifted in her chair and ran a hand through her hair in frustration.

"Where do we stand with each other now?" she asked, her voice short. "I mean really stand? I mean, we agreed straight off that the… the… kiss… we agreed that it meant nothing; but you just called me a 'friend'…"

"Well you are a friend," said Harry, not quite understanding the irreverence of his words. "You have been since my first year, what do you want me to say?"

"Oh I don't know, that I am somehow different to Ron and Hermione?" said Estella snappishly. "That we are family?"

"You are family," said Harry quickly, a quizzical expression on his face. "But I guess I hesitate at comparing you in any way to the Dursleys; so you should consider 'a friend' a compliment. And now I'm thinking that maybe it's a good thing we don't share blood because you'd have to be pretty dense not to know that-"

"Oi! Prat!" Estella swatted at Harry playfully, her earlier derision all but forgotten. "Says he who can't see past the end of his nose…"

"What do you mean by that?" asked Harry self-consciously, his glasses choosing that moment to slip down his nose.

Harry, however, was denied a response as a flurry of movement behind them heralded the entrance of one of Estella's roommates.

"Well speak of the devil," Estella muttered under her breath, a smile playing at her lips as she turned to see a certain redhead making a beeline towards a trunk in the far corner of the room. Raising her voice to address the preoccupied fourth year, Estella nudged Harry pointedly. "Hey Ginny, were your ears burning?"

Ginny looked up from her trunk, barely having realised that she'd walked into an occupied room, and looked between the two dark-haired teens in confusion. Whilst her ears may not have been burning at that moment, those of a particular bespectacled teen most certainly were.

"Not a word," whispered Harry, turning his head away from Ginny as the girl busied herself looking for a book to glare at Estella. The smug-looking Ravenclaw, in turn, grinned teasingly before nodding. With a few more Thank You cards to send out and a trunk to pack before dinner, Estella made a note to play match-maker another day.


Enjoying the covert company of Fawkes had proven to have its benefits. Secure 'instant messaging' between herself and the headmaster had kept her abridged on her uncle's situation without drawing any light to the fact that she was actually checking up on him. The man had not stayed after Estella had submitted the findings of her 'discussion' with Kreacher, and besides spending Christmas with the Malfoys, had purportedly been holed up in his quarters, conducting 'research'. If she did indeed wish to visit with the man before the new term commenced, and did not want anyone to know of her presence, the coming week really was the optimum time. Having both a Christmas present and birthday present to account for, Estella was committed to ensuring that her early return to the school would remain a surprise, her arrival scheduled for a little after midnight that night… the day before her uncle's birthday.

Joining the rest of the household for a hearty Weasley feed, Estella saved her goodbyes until after the evening meal.

"Have you got everything, kiddo?" said Sirius, his outer cheerfulness belying the turbulence within. As much as he appreciated that it was difficult for his brother-in-law to truly spend time with Estella whilst limited by his teaching duties, there was a resoundingly loud voice in his mind that reminded him that the man his daughter was cutting short their own time together for, got to at least set eyes upon her every day during term.

"Yes, Dad," said Estella, rolling her eyes. Closing the lid of her trunk, she sat on it so that her father could latch it. "And if I don't, there's always the Order meeting at the end of the month."

Sirius nodded mutely, and exchanged a look with his best friend, who was pushing off from the door frame to assist Estella with her book bag. Remus, he supposed, was feeling the imminent separation much harder than he was; for whilst he knew that it would barely be two weeks before he saw his daughter again, Remus was scheduled to return undercover at the end of the week, and there was no telling when the werewolf would see them again.

"I'll miss you, cub," Sirius heard his friend say in a quiet, hoarse voice, the man's hand resting heavily on his daughter's shoulder in acknowledgement.

Estella lowered the handle of the trunk that Sirius was assisting her carry and looked up at her godfather with wide eyes. Flinging her arms around him, she hugged him tightly and sighed into his robes.

"I can come back after his birthday, if you want," she offered. "Then go back with the others next week -"

"No, no, it's all right," said Remus, though one look in the man's eyes and it would be obvious that he wanted nothing more than to keep the girl in his arms forever. "I know how much you miss the quiet time alone with your uncle. You would only be shouldering additional risk, moving back and forth between the school when Umbridge is under the impression that you're in St Mungo's."

"It'd be worth the risk," said Estella thoughtfully, resting her chin on her godfather's chest and looking up at him. "Not that it'd be much of a risk though, not against a near-squib with the I.Q of a ferret on a highway."

"Where do you come up with such vivid imagery?" said Remus, amused. "I don't doubt you, of course, but it can only be a mistake to underestimate our foes, mmm?"

"Yeah, humour the old man," quipped Sirius, deftly picking up the dark ball of fur that sometimes resembled his daughter's Kneazle. "He's lost the edge in his old age."

As predicted, Remus' wand was out in an instant, the nimble-fingered werewolf growling slightly and glaring at Sirius' cheek. The grim Animagus smiled innocently and motioned towards the sleepy Kneazle in his hands.

"You wouldn't hex a man taking care of an animal, would you?" he said sweetly, his grin widening when Remus' wand faltered.

Having wisely side-stepped the line of fire the instant her father had made his earlier statement, Estella watched the interplay with amusement.

"You know," she said, turning to her father. "Some would say that sharing your body with a werewolf would mean that you're always taking care of an animal; and yet you never hesitate to hex him!"

Now it was Remus' turn to grin wolfishly.

"And using a poor, defenceless Kneazle as a human shield," said Remus, tutting softly and shaking his head, his wand raised once more. "For shame, Mr Padfoot, for shame…"

"Is that a hint of a challenge there, Mr Moony?" said Sirius, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he handed Skunk over to his daughter and drew his own wand.

Before either of them could start hurtling playful hexes at each other, Estella had drawn her own wand and, unnoticed by the other occupants of the room, sent a pair of silent disarming spells in their directions. When they suddenly found their wands flying into Estella's outstretched hand, Skunk having climbed over her shoulder and settled in the hood of her cloak, the furry creature's head peeking over her shoulder, nearly camouflaged by Estella's hair, they looked over at the girl in a mix of awe and confusion.

"Not in my room, you don't," she said firmly. "Not when Ginny's Pygmy Puff, and Crookshanks are in the vicinity… and most certainly not when Hermione has left her homework out. We'd never hear the end of it…"

At that, Estella tucked the adult's wands into an inside pocket of her robes and, using her own wand, levitated her trunk and headed out the door.

"If you promise to keep the books intact, I will give you your wands back," she informed them, as they wordlessly began to follow her down the hall. They had all but given up trying to enforce upon the girl the inappropriateness of using magic out of school while she was under-aged, but they had to give her credit for not flaunting the loophole in front of the other teenagers.

Reaching the top of the staircase, she lowered her trunk and held out the two wands.

"Now play nice," she said, handing them both their wand in turn. Seeing the incredulous looks on their faces, Estella rolled her eyes. "Honestly, sometimes I forget just who is the adult and who is the child, here!"

Looking at each other in silent understanding, the two Marauders could not help but secretly agree. An uneventful journey downstairs and another round of goodbyes later, Estella left the teenaged occupants of Grimmauld Place to their rowdy game of Exploding Snap and prepared to leave. After once again seeing that his child had everything, Sirius clamped a hand on either shoulder and commanded her eye contact; without having to say a word, he conveyed his message to his daughter.

"I know, I know," said Estella plaintively. "If I value your life, no wearing clothes my uncle will see as inappropriate… and no breaking school rules unless there's no chance of me getting caught."

Sirius gave his daughter a strange look, to which Estella grinned sheepishly.

"All right, so I may have embellished a little," she admitted.

Giving his daughter a scrutinising look, Sirius considered his options for a moment, and then, after sharing a glance with his werewolf friend, he nodded.

"All right," he said slowly. "I'll trust your judgement… but I want to know what you're up to, okay? No consequences attached, I just want to stay informed."

"Keep score, you mean," said Estella coyly, shaking her head. "No need, I've no desire to ascend to the Marauder's ranks."

The two men gave her an amused look, their eyes tinged with disbelief, but said nothing as they shrunk her things and handed them to her so that she could stuff them into pockets of her robe. Upon seeing that she was ready, and confirming that she had no more goodbyes left to give, Sirius indicated for her to get out her Portkey. Dipping into the topmost pocket of her robes, Estella extracted an innocuous looking red feather and nodded faintly. All of a sudden, Fawkes flashed into being, landing precisely on Estella's shoulder; before either man could react, the majestic bird let out a solitary note and vaporised in a ball of flame, taking Estella along for the ride.

Blinking in their shock, the two men looked at each other in disbelief, both having taken an involuntary step back.

"Well that was…" said Remus, breathlessly.

"-unexpected," said Sirius, mouth agape.

"I was going to say, 'disconcerting'," said Remus distractedly, his eyes still fixed upon the spot on the floor where his goddaughter had just been standing a moment earlier. Subconsciously, he was trying to make out the outline of a scorch mark that wasn't to be found.

"That too," said Sirius, shivering slightly.

Coming to his senses, Remus rubbed a hand over day-old-stubble and looked to his friend.

"I guess Albus didn't want to take chances with a Portkey when the Ministry are keeping such a close eye on the school," he said, nodding as though accepting his own theory. "Either that, or she's inherited your love for theatrics…"


"Thank you, Fawkes," said Estella as she opened her eyes and found herself in a desolate area of the Forbidden Forest. She had known, when she had first come in contact with the bird, that his intentions were to whisk her away to her secret room within the castle; but having evidently shared with Fawkes her passing wish to harvest some special herbs for her uncle for his birthday that coming morning, the phoenix had delivered her to a place where all that she needed was in abundant supply.

Realising the dangers of being alone in such a uncharted area of the wild forest so late at night, Estella busied herself extracting various petals, roots and leaves and seed pods; carefully separating them into the various pockets of her cloak and robes. Unfortunately for Estella, her continued presence in one area drew the attention of one of the Forest's more unsavoury guests. So caught up in her methodical pruning and harvesting of ingredients was Estella that she failed to hear the tell-tale approach of her hunter, remaining unaware of the threat's presence until it had successfully pinned her down to the forest floor.

"Where did you spring from so suddenly?" a deep, tauntingly melodic voice growled into her face before taking a deep breath through its nose. "Did you let go of your Portkey too soon? Tsk, tsk…"

Recovering from the shock that had frozen her solid, Estella began to struggle in earnest, but she was no match to the sheer bulk of her captor. Pushing and fighting against the animal-like hands that tore at her clothes, methodically emptying her pockets of their bounty, Estella's eyes widened in horror when the beast – she could not call him a man – began to actively inhale her scent.

"You think you're a smart little cub, do you?" he growled, grabbing a handful of her hair and pulling her head back, so as to expose her neck; "trying to cover your scent with herbs and flowers?" he inhaled sharply, lupine-like eyes betraying surprise "Wait… what's this I smell? Your scent is imprinted with the flavour of my brethren… and… yet…" – dirty long nails raked along the spot where neck meets shoulder – "you are not one of us…"

Estella's mind was reeling, her mind heady with adrenalin and fear. Though it was not yet the full moon, Estella could tell that she was dealing with a werewolf; but as much as she tried she could not make sense of what he was saying to her. It wouldn't surprise her if her godfather's scent could be detected, but the man-beast didn't seem to be talking about any sort of lingering, third-party scent. Not giving up on her struggles, Estella was suddenly filled with a sense of fear… not for herself, but for her godfather. All her life she had taken for granted that all werewolves were much like the man who had played such a large role in her life: a little 'furry problem' for a few nights each month, but otherwise entirely human and able to function in society. The afflicted man before her looked to live in the forest full time, on the hunt even in his 'human' form. Thinking of the amount of prejudice normally afforded to werewolves by a majority of the wizarding public, Estella began to wonder if this was the reason.

"Tell me, fledgling…" the half-beast had loosened his hold on her – not enough for her to break free, but just enough to stop bruising her with his grip. "What is your name? Who is your alpha? You are a peculiar one… I think… I think I shall grant you a choice."

"A choice?" said Estella, raising a brow. That the man was promising her a choice, and yet giving her no freedom of movement highlighted to her that he was merely toying with her. The contents of her pockets strewn around her, her heart leap when she saw the glint of silver. Staring at it in abstract confusion, it took her a moment to recall just how the nib Draco had given her had ended up discarded in her pocket, and not kept in its case in her trunk. Remembering the encounter she'd had with Harry before dinner, she thanked the stars and proceeded to distract the man; "I don't believe you."

"Oh and she's smart, too…" cooed the werewolf, sticking out his tongue and running it up her cheek before inhaling again sharply; "and tasty."

Absurdly, Estella's mind was filled with images from the Muggle children's pantomime, Little Red Riding Hood, and she caught herself thinking of how ironic her current situation would have been had she decided to wear her red cloak. When the rangy man had leant over her, his hold on her had loosened to the point where she was able to get a hand free. Stretching her fingers tautly, she was just able to flick the tiny speck of silver towards her and pinch it between her fingers…

The werewolf let out an almighty scream as Estella dragged her nails up the man's cheek, the pointed tip of the silver nib burning his skin as it scratched across his cheek until she forced it directly into his eye. Leaping up, the man-beast clawed at his face as his eye began to burn, a disturbing sizzling sound and whiff of smoke buzzing around his head as he tried to gouge out the blinded organ.

"You wench! My eye! Silver!" the man yelled.

Seizing the opportunity, Estella pulled herself back by her hands and feet, staying low to the ground to avoid the monster's flailing arms, and beckoned for Fawkes. But while the Phoenix could make itself flame into the vicinity in the blink of an eye, it was still just a bird, and just as susceptible to attack.

"FAWKES, LOOK OUT!" Estella screamed as the majestic bird came between her and her pursuer, who had recovered enough to zero in on her with his remaining eye and swipe at the blur of red that had come between himself and his prey.

End Chapter

A/N: Evil, me? The next chapter will hopefully be up at some point during the weekend of the 16th. My brother's 21st is coming up soon though and I may have his party to go to that weekend, so if it stops me from updating I will let you know.