January 13, 1988

Callie began to understand certain things about Sirius as time progressed. Like how much he loved a good fight, and how annoyed he'd get when the opponent wasn't half-decent. And how he'd crumple the Daily Prophet in his fist when the headline read of more deaths. Sometimes, when he caught sight of danger, he'd go still, alert as a dog that's caught the scent of a rabbit. He was a dangerous man, unpredictable and unrestrained. He was all or nothing, rarely in between two extremes. What he hated, he hated with a fiery passion, quick to consume and unrepentant. What he was indifferent to, he never spared a thought about. But when he cared, he cared fiercely. He poured his whole being into caring for the people he loved. He lived and would gladly die for them.

Callie mentioned her observations to James over Christmas. James laughed and confirmed them all. He said Sirius hadn't changed much since Hogwarts, but there was no one else in the world he trusted more, and Sirius had earned that trust time and time again.

There was a lull in Death Eater activity following Christmas. Sirius took advantage of the lull in activity to train her on the handling of dark, magical creatures. He obtained permission from Dumbledore to explore the Forbidden Forest. The forest was full of magical creatures. They encountered a heard of centaurs and watched a unicorn graze before nearly getting trampled by a stampede of thestrals. The beasts missed, but Sirius and Callie had to dive into a swamp to avoid being crushed, and came out dripping black ooze. Flinging mud as he shook his robes, Sirius said there was nothing for it, and as the night was freezing anyway, they may as well clean off someplace comfortable. He took her hand and apparated to a small, wooden building in a forest. He unlocked the door with a rusty key and uhered her inside.

The place was a mess of files, pictures, and enchanted strings of light crisscrossing the space. Moving pictures of Death Eaters leered at them from the walls, surrounded by scribbled notes in Sirius' elegant writing. A large basin sat in a corner, casting shimmering light on the ceiling above it. Sirius led her through the mess, across the comparatively tidier kitchen, and into a small bathroom.

"It's not much," he admitted, "but I use the space from time to time. It's handy in a pinch. You can shower first." He left and returned in a minute with an armful of clothes. "They'll be big, but you'll have to make due while yours dry."

Callie thanked him and shut the door. Shaking off her uncomfortable feeling, she quickly disrobed and showered. The water was hot and gloriously relaxing. She let it drum against her shoulders, releasing the tension. She recognized the smell of his soap and shampoo from times when they had to crouch close together on missions. She left the warmth of the water reluctantly, drying off and changing into his too-big pants and shirt. She looked at herself in the mirror, and shrank the clothes just a bit. She towel-dried her hair as she ventured out in search of Sirius.

"Sirius?" she called. "I'm out."

She found him leaning over the basin in the corner, putting something thread-like and glimmering into the liquid. He glanced up when she called his name again and eyed her up and down, smirking appreciatively. "If I'd known you'd look that good in my clothes, I'd had lent them to you before."

She was used to his teasing by now, so she rolled her eyes and changed the subject. "I didn't know you had a Pensieve."

Sirius shrugged, disrupting the mud caked to his clothes and hair. "It helps to clear the mind. It's a trick Dumbledore taught me. This one used to belong to my family." He nodded her over, allowing her to peer into the swirling liquid, catching glimpses of memory. "There's one of these in the Auror Office, by the East wall," he explained. "It's encouraged to unload baggage before you go into the field."

"Why?" Callie asked.

The light cast from the Pensieve made his silver eyes glitter. "The Wizarding community isn't that big," he replied, but she detected a note of heaviness in his otherwise careless tone. "A lot of the people we track down we either know, or they've killed someone we know. It's easier not to carry those thoughts with you when you go to fight them. They just get in the way."

Callie watched him as he spoke. Even through the layer of mire, she could see an invisible weight pulling on his features, turning his face into a frown. There was pain in his eyes. "Isn't this like running away?" she asked quietly. "Dumping your memories in here so you don't have to deal with them?"

He considered his answer, staring intently into the basin. "This isn't running away," he replied slowly. "It's letting go, temporarily, to prevent ourselves from doing something cowardly. After all," he met her eyes, giving her a meaningful look, "We don't kill people." They stared at each other for a long moment, each reading the other. He looked pained, and a little sad; it unnerved her. He took a step back after a moment and looked down at himself. "I'd better wash this off. Why don't you make us some tea? The kettle's on the stove."

She nodded, watching him retreat into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. She stared at the door for a moment, thinking about what he'd said. She wondered what memories he had that could make him kill someone.

Her eyes were drawn back to the shimmering basin. Shadows and highlights danced together in its depths. She found herself leaning forward to get a better look. Curiosity trickled through her mind, mingled with guilt and suspicion. She only meant to have a closer look, she promised herself. She didn't mean to touch it.

The tip of her nose grazed the liquid. She tilted forward and fell into the pool before she could stop herself. Colors flashed around her, slowly materializing into a dark hallway with a staircase to the side. She shook her head, trying to get her bearings.

Voices cried from somewhere upstairs. "Abhorrence!" It was a woman's voice, screeching at the top of her lungs. Glass shattered above her.

Callie cautiously stepped toward the stairs to investigate. A cry of, "Blood traitor!" met her as her foot touched the first step. Something banged loudly. A door upstairs splintered. A figure fell through the broken pieces, leaving droplets of blood hanging in the air. He crashed into the opposite wall.

"Filth! Repulsion!"

He took a step toward the stairs, staggered, fell to his knees, and got up again.

"Shame of my flesh!"

He reached the stairs.

"GET OUT!"

The figure obliged. He staggered down the stairs toward Callie, tripping over himself in his haste. One arm shielded his face, drops of blood trailing behind him. Hexes and curses followed, blasting pictures and shrunken heads from the wall. Callie flattened herself against the wall to let him pass. As he did, she distinctly saw the sharp, angry eyes of her partner beneath smears of blood. Sirius reached the door, tore it open, and disappeared into the night.

Scarcely a second after, a tall, sharp-featured woman barreled down the stairs, mouth twisted in a snarl. She screamed obscenities out of the open door, and wasn't half done when the setting blurred and melted.

Another scene took its place. Callie recognized the location as the last cabin on the Hogwarts Express. A red-haired girl lay on the floor, bruises and burns on her exposed skin. In front of her stood a cold seventeen-year-old Sirius, wand pointed at three students wearing Slytherin green. His snarl resembled his mother's. His hex was deflected, and his wand flew from his hand. He stood unmoving in front of Lily, unarmed and defenseless, using his body to shield her. Three voices shouted, "Crucio!" Sirius fell to his knees. A blood-curdling scream tore from his throat.

The spell released and he knelt, panting, on the floor, still protecting Lily. He looked up; his eyes froze as he saw something behind the three students torturing him. Callie followed his gaze.

A boy stood behind her, with Sirius' black hair framing his grey eyes. His eyes met Sirius'. For a moment, he seemed ready to help. But he stopped. He turned. He walked away.

"Reg-!"

Sirius' shout for his brother was cut off by another round of Unforgivable Curses. The episode turned to mist as three boys tore down the hall and let loose a volley of stinging hexes on the attackers.

The landscape shifted to form massive stone walls. She spotted Sirius, roughly twenty, chained to the wall. His robes were torn and his flesh was marred. His eyes were wide with horror, staring at the broken form of his best friend. He strained against the chains and screamed. A woman with knotted black hair and a crooked wand stood over James, shouting curses, making James scream and writhe in agony.

Callie felt a stab of panic. Forgetting that this was only a memory, she darted forward. Her disarming spell shot straight through Bellatrix Lestrange. No one paid her any attention. She tried to physically stop Bellatrix, but her hands passed through the woman's arm just as her spell had. She was helpless.

"Bellatrix, stop this!" She recognized the voice and turned to see Remus. He was chained to the wall, struggling against the restraints. Blood trickled down his arms from the cuts the shackles had made. Bellatrix turned and fixed her heavily lidded eyes on him. She discarded James and advanced on Remus.

Sirius fought harder to escape. He strained and cursed and swore vengeance, but it just made the Death Eater laugh. She grabbed Remus by the hair and jerked his head up. The tip of her wand dug into his neck. She turned and glared at Sirius.

"My poor, weak cousin," she simpered. "You of all people should know the price of defying the Dark Lord. Crucio!"

Remus screamed. His body twitched and writhed. Sirius growled from somewhere deep in his throat. "Let him go, Bellatrix!" he begged. He swore harshly. "For the love of God, let him go!"

Bellatrix cackled, releasing the curse. Remus hung limp, panting, wincing. "God?" she mocked. "Dear Sirius, not even he can help them now. Soon you'll die, but I'll make you watch them die first." She shouted another curse Callie didn't recognize. Great, bloody gashes appeared in Remus' chest. Sirius strained harder, but it did no good.

Callie felt a firm grip on her arm. She turned quickly to see another, older Sirius beside her. He glanced around them before fixing her with a cold look. With a sharp tug, he dragged her out of the Pensieve and back into the present.

Callie reeled back. Her back hit the wall. She leaned against it, breathing hard, fighting to slow her heart rate. Her gaze snapped from the Pensieve to Sirius. He was staring at her, arms crossed, brimming with cold fury. She waited for him to shout or storm out or do anything. Minutes went by. Neither of them spoke.

Finally, Sirius sighed. He grabbed a black drape from the floor and tossed it over the bowl, blocking out the dancing light. He ran a hand through his wet hair and sighed again. "Still think I'm running away?"

Callie shook her head mutely. "I… I'm sorry. I shouldn't have-"

Sirius held up his hand to stop her. "It's my own fault. I should have known better than to leave you in the same room as that thing." He paused. "You just saw your brother get tortured. Are you alright?"

She tried to reply, but couldn't, so she settled for nodding. Her knees trembled. James' suffering wasn't the only thing that made her stomach churn. She could remember a bloodied, pale Sirius staggering into her home when she was ten, but she'd accepted her parents' half-hearted explanation that he'd just tripped. She'd known his family was horrible, she'd even seen one of them arrested, but she'd never given it much thought.

So many things that hadn't made sense about him fell into place. She understood why she'd never seen anyone but James, Remus, Peter, and Lily touch him without him tensing. She understood why he never really talked much about his family. And she understood what must have made him like this, what made him hate the Death Eaters so much.

He took a step toward her, brows furrowed in concerned. "You're pale. Do you need to sit down?"

It was impulsive, she knew, but she hated what he'd gone through and she hated how alone he must feel. She reached forward and hugged him tightly. Sirius stiffened but she didn't let go. She felt his muscles slowly soften through his thin shirt. His arms wrapped around her back and he gave her a gentle squeeze.

"Merlin's beard," he chuckled, "I'm alright. Really."

Callie shook her head. "No, you're not," she said. "Sirius, it's okay. It's okay to not be okay."

He stiffened again and she knew he didn't really believe her. But he sighed and hugged her just a little tighter. They stayed like that for a while. Sirius rubbed the back of his neck after they stepped away from each other. "Well, it's late," he said. "I think I have something to eat in the kitchen. After that, we should get some sleep." He backed away and pointed to the right. "The bedroom's down there. You're welcome to it; I'll take the couch."

They busied themselves with finding enough edible things to make a decent meal out of. They ate together in a companionable, albeit slightly awkward silence. The Pensieve sat in the corner, covered up, out of sight but not out of mind. Callie cleared the table and washed the dishes while Sirius made up the couch. He told her where he kept his clothes, saying she could wear one of his shirts to bed if she wanted. She turned to go.

"Callie," he said, stopping her. She turned and looked at him. He hesitated for a moment before steeling himself and looking into her eyes. "Thank you."

She wasn't quite sure what he was thanking her for, but she nodded and smiled. "Goodnight, Sirius."

He smiled back. "Goodnight."