Chapter 2: Little White Lies

The Moon was all aglow

But heaven was in your eyes

The night that you told me

Those little white lies

Little White Lies (1930) – Walter Donaldson

"Feck that, Remus, they sound like awful gobshites*," said Lily Evans, veering off the road and then over-adjusting, causing Remus's hand to automatically brace against the side panel.

"You just trampled some of the Duchess' chrysanthemums," the Detective said, glancing behind as they pulled up rather suddenly in front of Slytherin House.

"I hope so," Lily replied blithely.

She grinned at him via the rear-view mirror. He looked slightly nauseated.

"No cheekiness from you when we get in, Evans," the Chief Inspector warned. "And drive slowly on the way back, will you?"

"Unlikely," Lily Evans said, blowing a strand of auburn waves off her nose. "It's my car, Chief, and I'm within the speed limit."

Moody snorted.

"You know damn well there is no speed limit in the countryside, Evans," he said, opening the passenger seat and standing up with difficulty.

"Like I said, Chief, I always stick to the rules," Lily said, turning to grin at Remus, and applying a sweep of lipstick.

"Good to have you back, Evans," said Remus, smiling back.

"Bet you missed me, Lupin," she said.

"Just a bit," Remus laughed.

"Snape still around?"

There was a hint of anxiety in her tone, despite the determined cheerfulness.

"Sadly," he said.

Lily shivered and said nothing. It was difficult to put into words why being around Snape made her feel so uncomfortable. He had been overly polite to her when they had started working together on the Mulciber Case, trying to ingratiate himself - waiting for her, holding doors open, getting her tea, insisted on walking her out after work. How could she complain about that? Except it felt stifling, almost intimidating. She asked herself if she had imagined it, when she thought she saw him glare at any of the other men who tried to talk to her. Especially Remus, who she got on with the best. She didn't like it. She tried to tell him. He had looked baffled and offended, and had made her feel guilty. And stupid.

"I just don't want you to get the wrong impression, Severus," she had said, holding her bag in front of her defensively. "I never date people I work with."

It was a lie. Her last boyfriend had been Davey Lampard, whom she had met when working with the Met in London.

"I understand," Severus had said, stiff, uptight.

"Good," she said, trying to smile back. "No hard feelings?"

"Of course not," Severus said. "It's a woman's prerogative to change her mind."

"Meaning what, exactly?"

"Meaning I am happy to work with you for the next few months."

Did he mean he was still hoping to date her when she finished working for Moody's team?

"And while we're on the subject, Severus," she said, cringing inwardly. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't touch my shoulder every time you walk past me, or every time we go through a door, or touch my back when I step into the car."

He stared at her incredulously.

"Excuse me?"

"Severus," she said, feeling the tips of her cheeks reddening. "Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about!"

"I have no idea what you mean, Lily," he said, looking at her with concern, worry almost.

He did though. Why was he making her feel like she was being an idiot, pathetic, or…

"You know what, I, look, from now on, I don't want you to touch me, alright?" she said, trying to keep her voice firm.

"Of course, Lily," he said, shaking his head lightly. "I would never want to make you feel uncomfortable."

"Yes, well," she said. "Good. I'm glad that's settled then."

"I think you need to relax a bit, Lily, take a day off. I don't mean to tell you what to do, but I would caution against working full time on such taxing cases as these, as a woman. I hardly think that a colleague touching your elbow is anything to be concerned about, is it? I apologise, perhaps it's just your time of the month, and your emotions are running a bit high, but-" Snape said, with another thin smile.

"No thank you, Detective Inspector, I'm very well, now if you'll excuse me, I have work to do," she replied, slamming the car door behind her.

He was lucky she hadn't kneed him. She needed the work.

And after that, he had changed. Mostly, he hovered in her vicinity, more than before, always just beside her. Especially if Remus was around. She wanted to scream, to snap at him and tell him to feck right off. But what could she say, without sounding like a pathetic, neurotic woman? This was her first time working with Moody. It was rare to find women working as detectives. She couldn't afford to look like an eejit. She would catch him, staring at her profile. Lift up her eyes for a break from her typewriter, or reviewing case notes, and see him looking straight at her, with his dark eyes. Watchful, waiting.

After a while, the rest of Moody's team didn't approach her as much, with Snape looming beside her, like some avenging angel. All except Remus and Frank. She had liked Remus, fancied him, in fact, when they started on the case. They worked well together. She found his hoarse voice and self-effacing manner, and their shared sense of humour, very attractive. He seemed to like her too. She could tell. And she could tell that Snape hated it. Then quite suddenly Remus had been moved to work on the Greyback Case, around the time they had finally cracked Mulciber's whereabouts and arrested him. She hadn't spoken to him since. When she finished working for Moody, she slipped away, on purpose, without warning, and changed her car, asking Moody not to share her details with anyone in the force, for privacy reasons. He had hired her again, thank God.

"You alright?" Remus asked quietly.

She knew Snape hated Remus Lupin. She also knew something bad had happened to Remus during the Greyback case. But now wasn't the time to ask.

"Absolutely. I was just hoping he'd met a tragic end. Was swallowed by a whale. Joined a travelling circus. That sort of thing. Never mind. Shall we?"

The Black family were gathered in the French Rococo dining room, around the imposing rectangular table. The curtains were partially drawn, casting dark shadows across the room, as though sunlight offended their aristocratic aesthetic. At the far end of the room, furthest away from the light, sat the Duchess, holding a lace handkerchief, occasionally dabbing her eyes. The young man seated beside her, immaculately turned out in a sophisticated black suit, was definitely her youngest son. He kept looking over at her, hesitant, as though unsure how to react. There was another dark-haired man, seated by himself, his chair pushed away from the table, on his mother's right-hand side. He had the same dark hair, chiselled features, and unusual grey eyes. His profile was very attractive. The muscles around his shoulder and neck were tense. Occasionally his lower leg would move back and forth, followed by a sudden stillness. The three Black sisters sat together at the other side of the table. Narcissa Malfoy looked like she had been crying. Andromeda Black had her arm slung around her younger sister. Bellatrix Black seemed perfectly at ease, and unperturbed, the only one not in black; she was wearing a cheerful lemon-yellow dress.

"Your Grace, I'm very sorry to learn of your husband's death," Moody said, in his typical gruff voice.

"His murder," Walburga Black corrected him.

"Yes. Rest assured we intend to catch his killer."

"I should hope so," she said, in an accusing tone, as though she held Moody personally responsible for her husband's untimely demise.

"We shall need to obtain statements from you all. You must remain in the vicinity of this house for the time being," Moody continued. "We are conducting an extensive search of the grounds for any potential clues, and our doctor is examining the Duke's remains as we speak."

He did not appear to be the least put-out by the Duchess' tone.

"Your Grace, could you tell me everything that happened yesterday after I left? It must have been about six o'clock," Remus said.

Walburga Black looked at her hands momentarily, before glancing back at him and giving him a curt nod.

"Nothing extraordinary," she said, consulting her hands again. "My husband, my late husband, had a visit from Lucius Malfoy, Narcissa's husband. A business meeting. It lasted roughly an hour. Then-"

"I believe Mr. Malfoy is experiencing some difficulties with his business, Your Grace?" Remus said.

Walburga's eyes widened momentarily.

"How do you know this?"

"I ask questions, Your Grace, it's my job," Remus said, with a gracious smile.

Walburga sniffed. It could have been due to her recent crying, but Remus got the impression it was a sniff of disapproval.

"I'm afraid that I know nothing about financial issues, my husband deals- dealt- with all that," Walburga said. "You would need to speak to Mr. Malfoy."

"I see," Remus said.

He was getting used to the drill now. Ask a question, brick wall, move on.

"Did your husband seem alright after the meeting with Mr. Malfoy?" Remus said.

"Not particularly," Walburga said, glaring at him. "They argued."

"Oh," said Remus, making a note. "Do you know what the-"

"This has nothing to do with my husband's death," Walburga said. "Mr. Malfoy proposed a business deal, my husband rejected it, nothing more. Hardly a motive for murder."

"We decide what is or isn't relevant to the investigation, Your Grace," said Remus, keeping his cool despite her dismissive tone. "They argued?"

"No raised voices," Walburga said.

"I see," Remus said. "Do you recall anything else that stands out?"

He was running out of words to replace the for fuck's sake answer, the damned question which was on the tip of his tongue.

Walburga moved her head minimally, which he guessed meant no.

"Your Grace, we will be talking to everyone, including all the servants, so if anything else did occur, I would suggest you remember it now, and save yourself another interview later."

He wasn't imagining the way her jaw tightened.

"Nothing of consequence springs to mind," she said, sticking her chin in the air.

He couldn't help thinking she looked regal, a grieving queen, austere but beautiful. Very beautiful, in his opinion, which was a bit embarrassing.

"Did you have a good relationship with your husband?" Remus asked.

Walburga looked at him as though he had grown two heads.

"Were you close, did you get on?" Remus supplied, feeling the urge to scratch his chin again.

"Yes," said Walburga, looking at him through her red-rimmed eyes. "Of course."

He felt as though he had intruded unnecessarily into her grieving.

"Were you married long?" Remus said.

"Twenty-eight years," Walburga said. "Engaged when I was nineteen, married at twenty-one. Celebrated our twenty-fifth Wedding Anniversary three years ago. Twenty-five bouquets of Iris and gold roses. And he gave me a George II silver coffee pot."

She raised her eyebrows, as though she had just proved a point.

"Oh," said Remus, unsure how he was meant to react to this piece of information.

"It was commissioned by John Lequesnie, Knight and director of the Bank of England, in 1738."

"I see," Remus said.

"Worth £100,000," Walburga added, with a condescending smile.

Remus nearly fell off his dainty chair. Walburga smiled again and her gaze flickered to the ornate console underneath the huge gold-edged mirror. A little, pompous, silver coffee pot sat there.

£100,000 for that?

"Did anyone else recently row with your husband?" Remus asked.

"My husband had a… what some people would call difficult temperament," Walburga said, after a pause. "He was very direct. We complemented each other. We never had a falling out. But his moods didn't always go down well with others, especially with the staff here. You should talk to one of my maids, Mary Macdonald. And to one of the grooms, Benjy Fenwick. They were in his bad books recently. He threatened to fire them."

She smiled at Remus again, brighter this time.

"Anyone else?" Remus said, making a note.

Walburga sighed, as though irritated by him.

"Bellatrix had a minor argument with him a few days ago, nothing important, asked him for a loan, he refused. I'm quite sure she would be happy to discuss it with you."

"And Andromeda, Lady Andromeda," said Remus. "She didn't get on with your husband, I believe."

It was a guess.

"No," Walburga said, the veins on her temple visible once more. "Under their parents' will, the Duke and Duchess of Gaunt, my nieces' fortune was to be managed by my husband, until they married. Andromeda is the only one who is yet to marry. My husband refused to give her permission to marry a commoner, a dreadful little man. They had a terrible row."

"Ted Tonks?" Remus said, making a note. "How long ago was that?"

"A year ago," Walburga said. "She hasn't forgiven him, they've hardly spoken since."

"And who inherits your husband's... who is the heir, Your Grace?"

Walburga hesitated.

"I believe my husband disinherited our eldest son," she said.

"So, Lord Regulus becomes," Remus said.

"I have not seen my husband's will," Walburga said. "But yes, that is what we believe to be the case."

"Thank you," Remus said.

He really needed to speak with Regulus Black.

"Dr Potter?" Lily said, extending her hand. "Lily Evans, consulting Private Investigator."

"Lily," Dr Potter seemed marginally shell shocked. "I mean, that is to say, it's clearly not Lily, that's you, what I mean is… James."

Lily raised her right eyebrow.

"Potter, James, doctor," the man said, clearing his throat.

"Dr James Potter," Lily Evans said, motioning to the chair in front of her. "Sit down, please."

The man blinked twice and ran a hand through his unruly black hair. He pushed his spectacles up his nose.

"Dr Potter, I haven't got all day," Lily Evans said, raising both her eyebrows quizzically.

"Yes," the man said, his warm hazel eyes glued to hers.

Lily Evans did not suffer fools gladly, especially not while in the middle of a murder enquiry. Men had a tendency not to take her seriously in her line of work.

"Dr Potter, if you don't sit down, and answer my questions, I shall be forced to bring you in for questioning to our local police station," she said, with a bright smile. "Do I make myself clear?"

Dr Potter sat down immediately, practically falling off the chair in his haste. Lily tried to suppress a groan.

"Dr Potter, where were you yesterday evening?"

"Yesterday…" Dr Potter said.

"Yesterday," Lily said, narrowing her eyes. "The day the Duke was murdered, in case you forgot."

She wore what she thought was a professional looking outfit - a long, burgundy tweed, column skirt with a high waist and a cream, satin blouse with a large bow around the neck, over which she wore a matching burgundy waistcoat. She crossed her legs and tapped her lace-up Oxfords impatiently.

"I… what did you say? Oh yes, splendid. I was here. All day," Dr Potter beamed at her.

"Splendid is not a word I would usually think of when referring to a murder," she said.

"What? Good Lord, no!" Dr Potter said.

He had an infuriatingly attractive smile, the corners of his eyes crinkled good-humouredly when he laughed, and his forearms were annoying her. Although what infuriated her most was that having heard about yesterday's interviews from Remus Lupin, she was sure this was another toff refusing to cooperate.

"Dr Potter, I think you may be under the misapprehension that being interviewed by a woman somehow means that-" Lily Evans' tone was glacial.

"What? Don't be ridiculous, Miss Evans, I don't for one moment doubt your-" Dr Potter said, looking affronted.

"Don't interrupt me, Dr Potter!" Lily's voice rose. "I'm quite sure that-"

"I was merely trying to allay your fears, under no circumstances was I trying to-" Dr Potter said.

"You are clearly not taking me seriously," Lily said, leaning forwards as though to show her complete lack of intimidation.

"Not true! You seem to have a propensity to wilfully misunderstand my intentions," Dr Potter replied, calmly folding his arms.

She wanted to throttle the man. That sounded like a direct quote from Pride and Prejudice, which was very inconvenient. Firstly, because she had always had an affinity for Lizzy Bennett. Secondly, because Dr Potter was a rich, snobby type. And lastly, because she had always rather fancied Mr Darcy.

"Fine. Did you have a motive to kill the Duke of Grimmauld?"

"What?"

"I said, did you have motive to murder the duke," she said, speaking slowly.

"Yes, yes, I heard you," Dr Potter said, slumping back on his chair.

It was anxiety which had crept into his face. It looked paler, although it was difficult to tell, as his complexion was darker than she was accustomed to.

"Dr Potter?" Lily said.

He seemed to be struggling to decide what to do. He ran a hand into his messy hair once more and sighed.

"I suppose you could say that."

His voice no longer held that mischievous quality.

"Please do go on, Dr Potter," Lily said, making herself more comfortable.

James Potter's jaw twitched.

"My parents moved from Italy to England in 1922, when I was ten years old. My maternal grandfather was English, my mother spoke it fluently, and always with me, so I had no difficulty with the move, although I still miss the weather," he said, with a rueful smile.

Lily smiled despite herself.

"Any particular reason for moving here?" she said.

"Not as far as I know," Dr Potter said, clearing his throat. "I think they saw a business opportunity."

"And?"

"They, er, they did that, set up a business, making and selling hair products. It became rather successful. You may have heard of it, Sleekeazy's Hair Pomades?

"Sleekeazy's? Who hasn't heard of it?" Lily said, looking at him in astonishment.

"They bought a beautiful, run-down, seventeenth-century house, not far from here, and brought it back to life. Made lots of friends in the local area. They even managed to get me into Hogwarts, one of the most elite schools for boys in the whole country. Sirius' father, who is on the Board of Management. Was. He got me in. I was very happy there, for most of my time. Full of snobby pricks, mind you, but that goes without saying. Sirius and I had a blast."

"But?" Lily said.

"After a time, Orion expressed an interest in my parents' company. Said he wanted to invest in it. They were reluctant at first, but Orion seemed like a perfect gentleman, they had no reason to mistrust him, and I think they felt indebted to him because of the whole school thing. Sirius didn't talk much about his dad at the time, but I knew their relationship was strained, and he cautioned my parents against getting involved with him. Unfortunately…"

"Yes?"

The doctor stood up and walked to the window, his arm leaning against the window frame, looking outside at the view of the lake.

"Dr Potter?" Lily said.

"Eventually they agreed, and Orion had contracts drawn up by his solicitor. They… the solicitor they hired was crooked. I have no proof, but I'm willing to bet a large fortune that Orion paid him off. It was too late by the time they realised they had been tricked into selling the company to Orion, for a pittance. My parents were not in good health, Papa died of a heart attack two years later, after a number of unsuccessful attempts to challenge Orion in court. Mamma died shortly afterwards. We always felt she died of a broken heart."

"And did you or your siblings…" Lily said.

She couldn't help feeling sorry for him.

"Only child. Although they semi-adopted Sirius, I used to joke that they loved him more than they loved me, the bastard," James said, with a fond look. "He used to spend all his free time in our house."

"And what did you do, after your parents passed away?" Lily said.

"They died just after I finished school," James said, looking out of the window again. "I always wanted to be a doctor. I was offered a place in St George's, University of London. I couldn't afford the tuition fees. But I received a sum of money, placed anonymously into my bank account, that year. It allowed me to pay the fees, just about, and I worked in my spare time to cover the cost of lodgings and books and the likes. The same thing happened in August for the six years of medical school until I graduated."

"Did you ever find out who paid for the fees?" Lily said.

"I suspected it might be Orion," he said. "I asked him outright one year and he laughed, but he didn't deny it, in fact, he more or less admitted to it. Perhaps he felt a tinge of guilt? I never understood it. Put me in a weird position. I both hated him and felt obligated to him."

"Obligated to him?" Lily said, her emerald eyes flashing.

"I don't know... yes, in a way? Indebted to him... I know it's ridiculous, after everything he did to us, damned stupid. He always treated me with contempt, as he did everyone who wasn't royalty. It didn't bother me. But his snide comments about my parents blowing their fortune…"

"Excuse me, what?" said Lily, staring at him in shock.

"Oh yes," Dr Potter gave a bitter laugh. "Always snuck that into the conversation, especially if there were other guests around. Something about the extravagant spending habits of New Money, or the stupidity of Italians, he even said that my father squandered his fortune on numerous affairs, in front of me."

"Affairs?" Lily said.

"You never met my father, Miss Evans, but I can assure you, that man was head over heels in love with his wife from the first day he met her, and remained the same love-struck, sentimental old fool until the day he died!" Dr Potter said, with a sad smile. "It was the biggest load of codswallop I've ever heard."

"Why did he," Lily said.

"Because he was a bastard and wanted to upset me, I presume," he said.

"Did it work?"

She watched the doctor clench and unclench his jaw.

"Yes and no."

She stayed silent.

"He wanted me to hit him, I'm quite sure of it. Maybe he thought it would get me thrown out of medical school. I threw a glass of wine at him once instead. Red, so it would stain his favourite tie."

The light from the large window was hitting his figure in all the right places, illuminating his strong jaw, his gold flecked eyes, the pull of his white shirt over his defined chest and biceps, the veins tracing his forearm and the back of his hands.

If Dr Potter's story was to be believed, Orion Henri Black was the biggest weapon, and she would happily have punched him in the face herself.

"Dr Potter, do you blame Orion Black for your parents' deaths?" Lily Evans said quietly.

"Yes. Yes, I do. I am quite certain they would both be still alive if it weren't for him."

The doctor's eyes smouldered with passion.

"I understand," she said. "Dr Potter, can you account for your whereabouts yesterday evening?"

His jaw clenched once more.

"After Mr Lupin left, we went for a ride for a few hours."

"Where did you go?"

"Round the estate. The horses need regular exercising."

"A few hours?"

"Yes. The grounds are… well, obnoxiously vast."

Lily snorted despite herself and Dr Potter grinned at her with boyish charm. A vision of the doctor in riding breeches, his white shirtsleeves rolled up and the muscles of his arms flexing as he galloped into the sunset, manifested itself to her. She cleared her throat in irritation.

"Er, and afterwards?"

"I was here, talking with Sirius, all afternoon, until dinner. Dinner went on rather longer than usual."

"Why?"

"They had guests, and Reggie, Sirius' brother, arrived just in time for the meal."

"Who else was there?"

"The usual suspects – the three Black sisters, the Duke and Duchess, Lucius Malfoy and Rodolphus Lestrange, Cissa and Bellatrix's husbands."

"Would you say the meal was cordial?"

James burst out laughing.

"What's so funny?" said Lily.

"I don't think I've had a relaxed, enjoyable meal here. Ever," James Potter said. "If we're all at dinner, Sirius, Andy and I will usually start off a brief conversation about something innocuous, determined to avoid a showdown. Bella, Cissa and Walburga then converse about something inane and eventually throw in a racist, bigoted, anti-semitic comment. Usually from Bella. Reg tries to steer the conversation away towards something neutral. Sirius hates when he does that, it's almost like he tries extra-hard to infuriate them when Reg does that. Bella then says something truly awful, quoting that Nazi fellow Hitler to boot. One of the three of us gets involved in a heated argument with her, until Orion shouts some obscenity at us, defending her. The poor servants always look. The three of us feel sorry for them and shut up. The last time there was a huge argument at dinner, one of them dropped a serving plate, and Orion sent them packing."

"Sacked?" said Lily, looking horrified.

"Yes, and with no pay, the bastard. Dinner usually ends with either Andy or Sirius storming off and Walburga, Bella and Cissa making snide comments under their breath. I have to say it's one of my least favourite ways to pass the time. Puts me off my food completely, which is a pity, as the food is one of the only good things about this damned place, aside from Sirius and Andy."

"Good cook?" Lily asked.

"The best. Anatole Alarie is a genius. They must pay him a fortune, I wouldn't stay if you paid me in solid gold."

He had mentioned fortunes a few times. Could he have killed Orion for stealing his, Lily wondered?

"So yesterday's meal was your run-of-the-mill nightmare?" Lily said.

"Worse," he said.

"In what way, Dr Potter?"

"Everyone was in a bad mood – Cissa and her husband, Bella and her husband, Andy, Reg, Orion… Walburga for once was trying to be diplomatic, I think even for her it was a bit too awkward!"

"Do you know why everyone was so cross?"

"Money, I'm sure," he said. "It always comes down to money."

"Lord Regulus though," Lily said.

Dr Potter shrugged.

"Money. Orion is a tight bastard. I'd say Reg has to beg him every time he wants any spending money. Probably uses it to control him. As he does with Sirius."

"Meaning?"

"Che ne so?" Dr Potter shrugged evasively.

"Excuse me?"

"I'm terribly sorry, I use Italian phrases with Sirius all the time. Means how should I know. I'm purely speculating, Miss Evans. Orion is- was- a very nasty man. I shouldn't speak ill of him, now he's dead, my mother would kill me, but as we say in Italy, in these circumstances – parlandone da vivo."

Lily cocked her head to the side.

"It means, speaking of him as though he were alive."

Lily rolled her eyes and tried not to smile.

"So that means you can bitch about him to your heart's content?"

"Guilty," said Dr Potter, also suppressing a smile.

"And after the evening meal?" Lily said.

"I went to Sirius' sitting room, had some whiskey and hung around there for a few hours, before retiring to bed around midnight."

Sirius' bloody sitting room… these rich gobshites.

"I presume the poor maids have to clean up your mess afterwards, bring all the empty glasses downstairs," Lily said. "They must hate you lot."

"Actually, I brought it down to the kitchens on my way to bed," Dr Potter said, with a triumphant grin.

Annoyingly, she found it far too endearing.

"Did you notice anything unusual?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all."

There was a knock on the door, two short raps.

"Come in," Lily said.

"Miss Evans, I think the Chief Inspector wants a word, immediately, Miss," said Mary Macdonald, looking flustered.

"Miss Evans, are you-" said Dr Potter.

"Oh, I'm finished, for the time being, thank you for your help, Dr Potter, I'll see myself out," she said.

"How do you do?" Dr Potter said, taking her hand and gripping it firmly.

She liked his hand, it was large and his grip was strong and he had calluses on the palm of his hand. She wondered how he got them.

"Er, lovely to meet you," she said, feeling a faint blush on her cheeks.

"Goodbye, Miss Evans, good wishes to you and your esteemed colleague, Mr Lupin," said Sirius Black.

He bowed politely in her direction and she smiled back.

"Well, goodbye, Mr Potter."

"Arrivederci," Dr Potter called out.

"Sorry?" said Lily.

"It means, until we meet again," he said.

His hazel eyes reminded her of her grandparent's house in Connemara, in the sitting room, flames reflecting off a bronze lintel. There was something about an open fire that spoke to her of belonging, of home. Until we meet again.

She smiled.

"Are you alright, Padfoot?"

"Yes. Fine."

"I doubt it."

"I don't want to discuss it."

"No, alright. I'm here if you change your mind though. He was still your father."

"James?"

"Huh?"

"You like her, don't you?"

"What? No!"

"Ha!"

"You're ridiculous."

"Uh-huh."

"I hate you."

"I know."

"So what if I do? She's highly intelligent, a bit scary, and incredibly attractive. Why wouldn't I like her? It's not like I'm going to ask her out, or anything."

"Oh, what is the matter with you? Are you still moping over that same girl? Why, the world is just full of girls," said Sirius Black, affecting the clipped tones and strange accent typical of Hollywood movies.

"I know, I know, but not like her. She's music. She's the buzzing of the bees in clover. She's the rustle of the leaves in the trees. She's water lapping on the shore," answered James, doing a more dramatic version of said accent.

"Uh-huh. Yes. She sounds like a series of strange noises to me. Well, cheer up, Prongso, cheer up. You may chance across her again some time."

"I know I will. And when I do, it won't be chance. Chance is the fool's name for fate."

"Oh, Monty would love this!" Sirius Black said, his laughter carrying down the corridor.

There was the sound of something large hitting a body and Lord Grimmauld yelping, then retaliating. Severus Snape's face was unreadable as he continued to listen from behind the door.

"I was looking for you," Severus Snape said, appearing behind her unannounced.

"Bleedin' hell, Severus! You gave me a heart-attack," said Lily Evans, unable to keep the irritation from her tone. "I didn't know you were coming today."

"I was asked to assist," he said, placing his hands behind his back.

He looked rather how she imagined a strict, and mean, Headmaster in a boy's school. It was also impossible to age him. He was standing too near her, again, and she moved back and frowned, folding her arms.

"I see you just finished interviewing Dr Potter," he added, in what she was sure was meant to be a casual, conversational tone, yet somehow sounded strangely threatening.

"I did," she said, pursing her lips, and standing taller. "He seemed like a nice man."

Severus laughed. It was one of the things she most disliked about him – that disdainful, superior, condescending, patronising laugh.

"You have a problem with him, do you?" Lily said.

"Well, I suppose I should keep this to myself, I would usually be loath to repeat back anything offensive to a lady, but in this case," he said stiffly.

"What are you trying to say, Snape?"

"I feel I should say it, in case he makes a pass at you, or tries something inappropriate, you might want a chaperone."

"Detective Inspector Snape, I swear to God, if you don't fecking well," said Lily, losing her temper.

"He said you were a delight, quite saucy, that you looked like you had loose morals, and he would love to get you into bed, adding something about Irish girls only being appropriate as scullery maids, and one would never consider anything serious with such girls, one just uses and dumps them. Lord Grimmauld seemed to find it all rather hilarious, they were laughing about it, about you, for quite some time."

She didn't like the gleam in his eye, as though he had somehow enjoyed saying it to her face. Her cheeks flushed bright red. Why did she feel like crying, it was stupid, and why should she care what some bastard fella thought about her?

"I see," she said.

"Yes, I thought you'd want to know," Snape said. "Of course, I don't doubt you remained wholly professional during your interview with Dr Potter, but if you inadvertently gave him the impression that…"

"What are you saying?"

"I'm simply advising that it might be better if I join you in interviewing," Snape said.

"No."

"Pardon me?"

"I said no, Detective Inspector."

"Miss Evans, I beg to-"

"I'm well able to handle myself, Snape. And as for Dr Potter, he might be interested to hear that I wouldn't go near him, not if it was a choice between him and The Giant Squid," she said.

"The giant squid?" Severus Snape said.

"Nickname for a great big ugly fella who used live down the road from us, when I was a young one," she said, putting her maroon beret on and marching past Snape so quickly he had to flatten himself against the wall to stop himself being run over.

"Where are you going?" he asked, hurrying after her.

"Stay away from me, I'm in no mood to talk to men, of any kind, ye hear? And that includes you!" she said, without bothering to turn. "Gobshites, the lot of you!"

She could hear his footsteps faltering and slowing down.

"Miss Evans, your behaviour is most-" Snape said.

"I don't care what you think, nobody asked you, and I don't want to hear it," she said, biting her lower lip so nobody could see it tremble. "And by the way, what I get up to in my own time is nobody else's business."

She still needed to interview about five more people, but first, she needed to curse loudly, and colourfully, and clear her head. She ran down the stairs to the grand entrance.

"I say, Miss Evans, I was wondering…"

She whirled around and saw him coming down the stairs two at a time, smiling his charming smile.

"Oh, Dr Tosser Potter," she said.

He stopped.

"I beg your pardon?" he said, looking confused.

He wasn't stupid, he read that she was mad at him. She should remain calm. She was a terrible Private Investigator. Remus would be appalled.

"I'm sorry, I don't understand what-" he said, running his hand through his wild and annoyingly attractive hair.

"I'm referring to your charming little chat, about me, with Mr. Black."

"Oh yes?" Dr Potter said, looking slightly embarrassed.

"Yes!"

"I, uh, well, I hope you didn't take it the wrong way, I-" Dr Potter winced.

"Oh, believe you me, I took it precisely as it was intended," she said.

If looks could kill, she was sure he'd have spontaneously combusted by now.

"Oh, well, in that case, I can explain," Dr Potter began.

"I have no interest in continuing this conversation, Dr Potter, not after your incredibly rude-" she started.

"Rude?" he interrupted, looking confused. "I'm sorry if you thought it was rude, you weren't meant to hear, and I-"

Without another word, she walked off in the opposite direction, head held high.

"I say, Evans," he said.

"Mallacht mo chait ort!" she said spat out, unable to restrain herself.

"That's very rude of you, Miss Evans!" Dr Potter called out after her.

"Oh really, are you a fluent Irish speaker now, Potter?" Lily whirled around, hands on her hips.

"Call me old-fashioned, but I find it frightfully rude to be cursed at in a language one doesn't understand, leaving one with no chance of one-upmanship," Dr Potter said.

"Please," Lily snorted derisively. "There's not much chance of that happening, in any language."

"And if you must know, it means my cat's curse upon you," she added.

His eyebrows shot up, and she could have sworn he was trying not to laugh.

"I see, how terribly…" Dr Potter said, waving the textbook in his hand.

"She's a tabby, huge claws, size of a small tiger, likes to jump at people she doesn't fancy the look of, aims for their crotches."

The dark-haired man ran a hand through his hair again, and his eyebrows disappeared under it, the book he had been holding in his other hand moved protectively in front of said area.

"You were saying?" she said, raising an arched brow and folding her arms expectantly.

She heard him clear his throat.

"Good day, Potter."

"Good day, Evans."

She marched out of the front door and felt a moment of satisfaction as the door slammed shut behind her.

"Ugh! Insufferable man!" she said, to nobody in particular.

Why did Severus Snape have to join this investigation? Hadn't Moody said he would keep him off the case, Remus thought, groaning inwardly as the other Detective walked over to him.

"Lupin."

"Snape."

"I believe you're just going in to interview Lord Grimmauld?"

"I am."

"Moody wants me to join you."

What the fuck?

"Why?"

Snape's cold eyes glimmered momentarily.

"You tell me. Perhaps he thinks you're not fully capable of managing a case on your own. After all, you were off on sick leave for an inordinate amount of time, rather longer than strictly necessary, shall we say."

As though watching a cinema screen, vivid images flashed in front of his eyes. A small dark room. A locked door. A man walking towards him with a knife. Pain. The same song, playing in the background, incessantly.

Blue Moon, you saw me standing alone

Without a dream in my heart

Without a love of my own

His heart was hammering painfully against his chest.

"I came back to work as soon as I got the all-clear from the Hospital. Moody knows that."

"Whatever you say, Lupin. I'm sure you did your best. Under the circumstances."

"What circumstances?" he asked, his hoarse voice sounding more tired than usual.

"For someone like you. Let's not cause a scene, shall we, Lupin?" Snape replied. "Wouldn't want the Chief to ask the Loony Doctor to review you again, now would we?"

He sounded unusually confident. Remus looked up and noted a tall, dark haired woman, a striking figure in a lemon-yellow dress, walking down the corridor towards them. She was smiling.

"Lady Bellatrix," Snape said, with a bow, moving to let her through.

She nodded back, almost knowingly. As she walked past Remus, she paused, looking him straight in the eyes.

"Scum."

He blinked twice.

"Excuse me?" he said.

"Excuse me," she said, in a mocking tone.

She turned and looked at Snape.

"Good day," she said.

Then she laughed, the kind of laugh that suggested she had just been highly entertained.

The other detective smiled.

"Good day, My Lady," Snape said.

Remus stared after her.

"What's the matter?" Snape asked.

"Did she, did she just call me…" Remus' stopped.

"She said excuse me. What on earth did you think she said?"

He couldn't ask Snape to confirm what had just happened, because he didn't trust Snape. Had he just misheard her? Imagined it? Should he tell Moody? Would he think him unwell too?

"Let's interview this Lord Grimmauld, shall we?" Severus Snape said to Remus, in an unpleasant tone.

"Lord Grimmauld, this is Detective Inspector Snape," Remus said. "He is joining me for this interview."

Sirius Black remained seated, his chair positioned towards the window. He was wearing a black, three-piece suit and looking distinctly uncomfortable. Remus noted his tie had wire-haired fox terriers on it. He liked it. Black looked Snape up and down, out of the corner of his eye, then glanced at Remus.

"Why is he here?" he drawled, leaning back in his chair, and ignoring Snape's outstretched hand. "I don't like him."

A spike of warmth flitted across Remus Lupin's chest.

"I have no idea," Remus replied, on impulse, too tired, or too honest, to come up with a credible excuse.

Amusement flickered across the man's face.

"Bad luck, old chap," Lord Grimmauld said, loosening his tie.

Remus had the sudden urge to laugh.

"Sit down, please, D.I. Snape," Remus said. "Lord Grimmauld, my condolences on the death of your father."

Lord Grimmauld looked up at him and Remus could see the side of his jaw twitching.

"Yes," he said, an unreadable expression on his face.

"Excuse me," Snape, who had yet to sit down, moved toward the window and drew the curtains right back.

Light flooded the room immediately. Lord Grimmauld averted his eyes from the midday sun.

"That's better," muttered Snape, sending the aristocrat a victorious look.

"Snape," said Remus, screening his eyes with his hand. "What are you…"

In the bright sunlight, there was no mistaking the red, raised mark across Sirius Black's left cheek. The beginnings of purple discolouration, with three parallel linear bruises at finger-width spacing and a cut just over the cheekbone.

"Lord Grimmauld, what happened to your face?" he said.

Reluctantly, the man turned. Remus prided himself on being able to read subtle facial expressions. He knew most people didn't seem to have this ability, but when interviewing suspects, sometimes he could catch a split second of true emotions, followed by what he termed a false emotional reaction**. Shame or embarrassment flickered for the tiniest moment, before being replaced by an emotion he recognised from his previous interactions with the Duke's eldest son – defiance.

Notes

*Gobshite - A word of Irish origin, meaning a person who talks rubbish.

**Micro expressions - are facial expressions that occur within a fraction of a second. It is the innate result of a voluntary (fake) and an involuntary (real) emotional response occurring almost simultaneously and conflicting with one another. Unlike regular facial expressions it is either very difficult or virtually impossible to hide microexpression reactions.

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