A/N: This chapter, like the title, was a bit of a plot necessity. Therefore, I apologize if it feels a bit...filler. I promise things will start moving along soon, but this chapter mainly includes people sitting and having conversations. So. Sorry about that if that's not your thing. I do hope the conversations are interesthing though!

Klara's wand froze in her hand. As Sirius watched, she slowly tucked it back behind her ear and leaned forward to better hear Doge's wheezy voice, her eyes pinned to his face. Even though Sirius knew Doge wasn't about to convey new information, he still felt himself tense. For more than a decade, every mention of Silas Nott had made him alert and uneasy.

"What? Oh, yes, yes of course. Naturally. Well, let's see then." Conjuring a stack of hand-written notes, Doge peered at them through his spectacles.

"Silas Nott, born 1958, only son and sole heir to the Pureblood Nott family. Slytherin House, naturally, graduated Hogwarts 1977, and we suspect he joined the Death Eaters immediately upon finishing school.

Now then…he wasn't a particularly active combatant during the war, mostly providing poisons and other potions, but during his 1981 trial he was accused of participating in the murder of the elder Bones couple and…a Harold Thomas. Pled Not Guilty on account of memory loss associated with having been Imperiused…uh, Wizengamot ruled 32-18 to dismiss all charges…"

Here Doge, seeming to sense Klara's eyes on him, looked up, scanning around the table. He caught Klara's gaze, and whatever he saw there must have startled him. Sirius saw him give a little shiver and retreat back down to his papers.

"Ahem. Right then. Uh…he married a Cecilia Bulstrode in 1980… who gave birth that same year to a son named…let's see…Theodore, yes, and she died shortly in 1981. Since his acquittal, Nott has led a rather quiet existence within Pureblood circles. It seems he even legalised most of his business dealings…never remarried…and that's about it, really."

Doge looked up again, this time taking care to avoid Klara's end of the table.

"Well, to be perfectly honest, if Harry Potter hadn't seen Nott in the Graveyard when You-Know-Who was resurrected, I doubt we'd have any proof that he's rejoined his former master. He and his son seem to come and go from their manor as usual. Now, he does seem to disappear for a couple of days at a time. His Floo shows no activity during these periods, but due to the protections around the manor we can't tell if he is leaving his residence through other means."

"He certainly left at the beginning of the month." Klara's voice was even and smooth, but Sirius could hear the slight tremble in her breath. The entire table turned to her. She was still addressing Doge, her eyes fixed on the stack of papers in his hands as if she wanted to toss it all into a fire.

"I'm—I beg your pardon, my dear?"

"He was waiting in my Vienna apartment on the first of July."

Collective gasps, but she continued, ignoring them and speaking to the stack of papers. "I don't believe he wanted to kill me then. He used only stunning and laceration spells, not the Killing Curse. I don't think he expected me to give him such a hard time, and Disapparated before I could get any information out of him."

Meaning that she hadn't gotten a chance to get into his head. Not that Sirius imagined she would have gotten much new insight. It was clear to him—and he imagined Klara knew only too well—precisely why Nott had been in her apartment shooting stunning spells. Nott would want to kill her, eventually, but he'd want to take his time. And he'd want to use his hands.

"Why was he there? And how did he find you?" As usual, it was Tonks, eyes huge, who first asked the questions. After a long moment, Klara tore her gaze away from Doge's papers and turned to look at Tonks. She had lost that pinning gaze she'd levelled at Doge, and now her eyes were still and flat.

"I have no idea how he found me. As to why…" She took in a quick sharp breath. "He and Evan Rosier killed my entire family to get to me. Silas Nott was always one to finish what he starts."

At the name Evan Rosier, both Mad-Eye and Remus jerked their heads to look at Sirius, but he pretended not to notice. He'd have to deal with questions later, he was certain, and he didn't know if he dreaded Remus' interrogation or Moody's more.

Everyone went quiet. After Klara's supposed death, both the Order and the Ministry had been at a loss for who was responsible. If it hadn't been for the Dark Mark cast above the charred remains of the Montagu hunting lodge, one could almost have believed it to be a tragic accident. To most, for years, the death of Klara and her family had been one of the mysteries of the war—like where Caradoc Dearborn had gone, or, (thought Sirius with bitter humour), how he, Sirius, could have betrayed his best friend.

And now, here was Klara, back from the dead, pointing her finger at a man who had avoided Azkaban altogether. He wasn't just accused of three murders now. Klara was confirming he'd committed five, and she hadn't even relayed what they'd done to her. The silence rose and swelled in the room, booming against Sirius' ears.

Finally, Dumbledore spoke.

"Of course, the question remains, how did Mr. Nott find Miss Montagu? The answer, I'm afraid, continues to elude us all, but I can assure you that it was not information leaked by our side." Dumbledore flicked another look at Sirius, as if for confirmation, so Sirius gave an imperceptible nod.

"Unfortunately," continued Dumbledore, "for lack of evidence and witnesses, Silas Nott remains a man at large, free to go where he pleases, including anywhere Miss Montagu appears in public. For this reason, I ask you all to be most careful about detailing Miss Montagu's whereabouts in casual conversation. While she will make no real secret of her return to Britain, it is still best to keep her out of general gossip."

Murmured assent flittered around the table now, the dense air of death dissipating like mist.

In the ensuing end-of-meeting chatter, Sirius watched as Klara met first with Flitwick and McGonagall, then the Weasleys, then with Mad-Eye, who brought over Tonks for an official introduction.

Remus came to join him at the wall. Sirius tensed. Sure enough, after a long pause, Remus spoke.

"You knew she wasn't dead all this time." It wasn't a question.

"Yeah. Yeah I did."

Silence. The uncomfortable truth of their mutual distrust all those years ago passed again between them, and Sirius felt the guilt begin to rise in his throat.

"Who else knew? Dumbledore, or course, and—"

"No, Dumbledore didn't know."

Remus snapped his head around so quickly Sirius could hear his neck crack.

In another time, Sirius might have made a variety of jokes. Now he stayed silent, the inappropriate urge to laugh quashed by the sudden realisation that he'd have to tell Remus all, sooner or later, and Remus would not be as understanding as James had been. Another person to disapprove most ardently, then. He could still feel Dumbledore's blue gaze piercing him.

"Only I knew," Sirius said slowly, refusing to turn his own head. "Well, James knew too, but after—you know. Only I knew."

Remus frowned. "Why didn't you tell Dumbledore?"

"He would have disapproved. Might have stopped me."

"Why would he have done that?"

Sirius clapped an uneasy hand on Remus' shoulder.

"I'll tell you when everyone's gone, mate." A pause. "Incidentally, I have been meaning to tell you for a while. That Klara's alive and all, I mean. I was just being a bit of a coward about it."

And before Remus could question him further, Sirius pushed off the wall and into the crowd.

O~O~O~O~O

For the fifth time that evening, Klara embraced round little Hestia Jones, who seemed unable to keep the tears from spilling down her face. She was gripping Klara's hands now, going on about how her Kneazles, Apollo and Artemis, would surely still recognise Klara if she brought them to the next meeting. Her chest swelled with affection for the witch.

At twenty, Klara had imagined Hestia was the kind of woman normal people had for mothers. Her lack of children in reality had no bearing on Klara's maternal projections. Now at thirty-five, feeling like a disloyal child, she held a twinge of relief that Hestia, at least, had not died like her parents.

"Oh, I know Dumbledore wants you to stay safe, but my house is very secure," she was saying now. "You'll come for tea soon, yes?"

"Of course," said Klara, and it was like fifteen years had not passed since she'd sat in Hestia's sunny kitchen, drinking tea from flower-dotted cups. "And I've amassed a library of new pastry recipes. You'll love them, I promise."

Klara wasn't sure how long had passed—how many people, new and old, she had spoken to to—but when she looked around now, she and Dumbledore were the only guests still left in the repugnant dining room. Dumbledore had asked her to stay behind, and the reason Klara guessed at was causing a little ball of dread to form in her stomach. Sirius, turning around to see the two of them still standing there, gave them both an odd smile, as if he had expected her to stay to speak to him. He always had been arrogant, the sod. Klara wanted to hit him again. She also wanted to run at him and burrow into his chest, feel the way his muscled arms tightened around her shoulders.

She had braced herself before arriving at Grimmauld Place. Yes, after their bafflingly awkward interview that afternoon, Dumbledore had sprung the Order meeting on her, but she'd had the walk to Hogsmead to compose herself. She had thought herself ready to face Sirius. She had been wrong.

Just seeing his face again had felt like a physical blow to the gut. She would know. She knew exactly what such a blow felt like. The maelstrom of anger and relief and elation and pain that first glimpse of him had stirred in her had been near impossible to tame. Even now, it was drilling away at the pit of her stomach, though the anger had abated to a dull ache.

She reminded herself that she mustn't let him upset her composure again the way he had done in the library. The excessive emotion and loss of control that once existed between them had been good for neither; they made her weak, and made him…well, insane was a good word to start with if she was coming up with nasty names to call him.

No matter. There would be no more of that. She had things to accomplish now that she was back, and she wouldn't let him distract her.

Klara returned to her seat, and around her the three men sat, Remus and Sirius looking at Dumbledore expectantly. Inwardly Klara groaned. She couldn't see a logical way to argue herself out of this. Dumbledore had spent their entire walk out of Hogwarts regaling her with every protection charm he'd put on this house, and then, making Doge rehash things she'd already known about Nott…a fool could see what he was going to suggest she do, and she had no reason to refuse. Seeing the few biscuits still left in the tray Remus had brought up, she eagerly reached for one and popped the whole thing into her mouth.

"Sirius, Remus, as I have made clear, Miss Montagu's situation is potentially dangerous. With Silas Nott still at large, we must take precautions. Sirius, I would be greatly obliged if you would allow Miss Montagu to move into Grimmauld Place. For the time being, of course. Until Nott is properly dealt with."

In the surprised silence that followed, Klara all but stuffed another oat biscuit into her mouth. They weren't the worst biscuits she'd ever eaten, and the fat and sugar dulled her rising panic.

Before she'd moved into her parents' old flat last weekend, she had put up every protective charm she knew, but those naturally could not compare to the combination of Fidelius Charm, Dumbledore's shields, and generations of magical protection, most of which she was sure the Ministry hadn't approved. It was just her luck, really, that living in this veritable fortress would mean moving in with Sirius. Klara couldn't help but feel on the butt end of some ironic joke the Universe was playing to amuse itself. When they had been together before, no matter how many nights she'd spent in Sirius' bed, Klara had not even entertained the possibility of moving in with him.

And now, this.

Three sets of eyes turned to her. She let a little furrow show between her brows. Why were they looking at her?

"Surely it's up to Sirius whether I move in or not," Klara said finally, and she almost wished Sirius would come up with an excuse to refuse. But then again, if he did say no, he would not be the Sirius Black she knew.

He had the audacity to looked shocked.

"You'd want to move in, Klara?"

For a horribly uncomfortable moment, both Dumbledore and Remus seemed focused on specs of dust on their hands.

Klara pursed her lips. Yes, she definitely wanted to hit him again.

"It isn't a matter of what I want, Sirius."

She reached for another biscuit, only to discover there were no more on the tray.

Beside her, Remus softly cleared his throat.

"Well Sirius, it is your house, but I think it's pretty obvious that Grimmauld Place is the best place for Klara to live so long as Nott is still out there looking for her. What do you say?"

Sirius turned to give Remus a baffled look.

"Right. Well, of course I'd lo—uh—you're welcome to stay." He opened his arms in a mock grandiose gesture. Then he glanced around the derelict dining room, and his look turned sardonic.

"More than welcome, actually, though I can't promise this house won't kill you faster than Nott. I'd think over the move carefully if I were you."

Klara felt Remus stiffen next to her, and even Dumbledore looked concerned, but not for nothing had Sirius Black been the only man who'd ever held any power over her heart. His inappropriate humour had always satisfied a delicious spot deep in her psyche, and now Klara felt a hysterical laugh bubble up from her chest.

Quickly, she looked away, hiding the smile she couldn't keep off her face even as she reminded herself that she was still massively angry with him.

A moment later, Dumbledore stood with a soft cough of his own. Automatically, they followed him out of their seats.

"Well then, I believe that is settled. Miss Montagu, I trust you have yet to unpack in your current home?"

Of course Dumbledore had planned all this out as soon as he'd gotten past the surprise of Klara resurrecting herself in his office.

"Yes, Professor," she said, trying for a smile and failing.

"Wonderful. I shall come and help you pack up your suitcases. Sirius, Remus. I wish you a wonderful night."

"I'll see you soon, then," Klara managed to say, standing and smoothing her skirt in what she hoped as a dignified way.

She addressed mostly Remus. "You are staying here as well, aren't you?" She hoped she hid her desperation that she not be alone in a house with Sirius, but Remus' little knowing smile told her she hadn't succeeded.

"Yes I am. We'll see you soon, Klara."

Behind him, Sirius stood, still looking a little bewildered. Again she tried for a polite smile, but she was sure it came out a grimace.

"Sirius."

"Right. See you soon, Klara.

O~O~O~O~O

"You did what?!"

Once again in their usual haunt beside the kitchen hearth, Sirius had just recounted to Remus what exactly he'd done to Klara's memory that night in 1980. It was going about as well as Sirius had expected.

"You heard right the first time," Sirius said dully.

"You mean to say that you completely erased who she was and forced her into a new life, and she's been living that way for fifteen years? Sirius, I'm surprised you're still alive."

"Well, she did slap me." Sirius turned his head, and Remus examined the faint bruise that was forming with clinical interest.

"I'd say you deserved that."

Sirius gave him an indigent glare, but it lacked conviction. He'd meant what he'd said to Klara in the library. He had deserved it, and more. He knew what he'd done. Sirius wasn't exactly proud of the entire situation, but James had certainly not laid out the bare truth of it in front of him the way Remus was doing.

"Fifteen years of her life, Sirius," Remus was saying. "That's almost half! Half her life that you essentially stole from her! Merlin, if Nott hadn't showed up and triggered her memory, would you have let her continue on in this pseudo life—"

"It's not like that! You can ask her when she comes back. She was still Klara on the inside, just using a different name, and she was happy in Austria, I'm sure of it. She was certainly doing what she always wanted to do."

"That's not the point, Sirius! She had no idea what you were doing. You had no right—"

"For fuck's sake, Remus, what other choice did I have?" He was out of his chair, hand slamming the table, and for a moment they stared at each other, both trying to form words. Sirius raked a shaking hand through his hair, looking away.

"Nott and Rosier found her family's home, Remus, despite all the protections she and Dumbledore had cast. They kidnapped her, held her captive for weeks, and as soon as they recovered from her escape, they were going to be after her again. Nott especially. You knew him too."

Remus glanced up then, and they exchanged a dark look.

"And what did Klara want to do?" Sirius continued. "She wanted to go back to St. Mungo's. Wanted to carry on her Healer work and keep going on Order missions and keep fighting as if she wasn't wearing a bigger target than the rest of us. She wouldn't have gone into hiding. You know her. There's no changing her mind once she's made it, and there would have been no talking her out of anything."

"So, what, you just made the decision for her?"

It hadn't been so simple, of course. If it had just been to keep her safe, perhaps Sirius actually would have found another way. But that part of their last night together wasn't his story to tell. Instead, he gave a helpless shrug.

"I did what I had to. I couldn't lose her, Remus. Yes, it was selfish, but I just…the idea that the next time she could really…"

He dropped back into his seat, head in his hands. Remus, thankfully, did not launch any more recriminations. Instead, he, too, seemed to deflate, no longer angry.

"That was why you chased after Nott and Rosier like your life depended on it, wasn't it? So it would be safe for her to return?"

Sirius shrugged again.

"Did you intend for Mad-Eye to kill Rosier?"

"I didn't lose any sleep over it."

The two sat in the damp, dingy kitchen, silent, each sipping their cold tea. Finally, Remus asked,

"So, what now?"

"What do you mean?"

"I saw the way you still look at her. What are you planning to do?"

Sirius almost laughed, but the bitter taste in his mouth only morphed his face into a scowl. Did Remus still think him the cocksure twenty-year-old who could charm his way out of anything? How could Remus think he'd have any chance with Klara ever again?

"The plan is to kill Silas Nott. The bigger plan is to kill Voldemort, so Harry stays safe. Other than that, Remus, I don't make plans anymore."