Disclaimer: The rights to the Harry Potter series go to J.K. Rowling. All original ideas present in this belong to me.

Chapter Thirteen | Talks

I've noticed that Hogwarts has been surprisingly quiet since the disappearance of Lockhart, due in fact to most of the students realizing what a fraud the man is (or was, to be exact). The most popular rumour going around is one that says he simply ran away when the pressure of the job became too much. The reasoning being, you can only lie for so long, right? Apparently, tricking a vast portion of Wizarding Britain into believing you're some sort of wizard slash demi-god is more difficult than convincing a room full of teenagers that you're not full of shit. Goes to show what an underappreciated job teaching is. No wonder the unions are always complaining.

The quiet doesn't quite reflect my mental state. My mind has been anything but quiet. Killing Lockhart was, well. It was revenge. I can't describe it as anything else. I killed him because he fucked with me, because he attacked me. That was it. Sure, many would find it justified, I know I do… at least, I think I do.

Quirrel for example, was a necessary evil. The man was already dead, he just wasn't aware of it yet. That, and the stuttering prick had Voldemort stuck to the back of his head. I'm not going to lose sleep killing a husk of a man.

Lockhart?

Fuck. That just… it's changed me. I'm colder, more distant from my friends. They know something is different about me, but they're probably just blaming it on the rash of hormones that comes along with being our age. Really, the thing I'm most terrified about is that I'm going to end up like Voldemort, pushed and pushed until I crack and go on some mad homicidal spree. I know its unlikely, but before he was Voldemort, Tom must have had some amount of kindness in him, no matter how infinitesimal. He wasn't just born Voldemort, that had to have been created. Childhood doesn't take place in a vacuum.

Much to my awe, Severus has been there for me. Apparently, the man is a licensed mind-healer. I guess it's true what they say about psychologists, you either start crazy or end up crazy. Severus has also vehemently insisted that I never call him by his first name in front of the other students. Says he has a reputation to uphold. I say he's a big softie, but he'd probably use me as potions ingredients if he heard that.

I've found that it… it helps to talk, something I never really tried before. I spent most of my time in my last life brooding and bottling everything up, hoping that the problem would eventually go away. Of course, it never went away, but I could always hope, right?

I think what made things so hard in my last life, was that nobody ever really offered to listen to me. Whenever I said something, people would look at me like I was telling some sort of fantastical story. Yes, I was beaten by the Dursleys and locked away in a cupboard under the stairs for the majority of my childhood. Did people really think I would joke about that, or did they just not give a shit?

It reminds me of Dumbledore sending me back to the Dursley's without so much as a talking to after Cedric's death. We became friends while competing in that gladiatorial bullshit they called a tournament. Bonded in battle, so to say. So when he died, how was sending me back to an abusive family supposed to help me grieve? I'm sure Dumbledore would have done the same if I didn't stumble in after Sirius and land myself here.

I've found my talks with Severus to be quite interesting. Oddly enough, at least, I find it odd, Severus must know what he's doing. We're not discussing Lockhart. No, we're discussing my childhood, specifically my previous life and the angsty, confusing hell that it was. But when he discovered where I spent my childhood… well, I think that was the first time I ever saw lose his cool, considering how well he took the whole revelation of my time hopping.

"Wait, one second please," Severus says, holding his hand up for me to pause. "You said you live with the Dursleys… Vernon and Petunia Dursley?"

I nod, wondering where he's going with his line of questioning. "Yeah? I thought you knew that."

He stands up, fury emanating off him, the air becoming thick with magic. "Petunia. Dursley," he growls, clenching his fists. "Albus sent you to live with Petunia Dursley!?"

"Yes?"

He roars, scattering papers across the room, a few vials that weren't spelled unbreakable shattering loudly from the burst of magic. "That… conniving, pig-headed, twinkling eyed bastard! How dare he! He knew how they would treat you!" He places his face in his hands, breathing deeply. "He knew!"

"What do you mean, he knew how they would treat me?"

Severus pinches the bridge of his nose, his eyes shut tight. "He knew how they would beat you, starve you, emotionally abuse you… he knew sending you there would break you. There's no way he wouldn't. I knew Petunia would be vile even as a child. Always jealous, always derisive, she never had a good thing to say about anyone. Not her parents, not her friends, and especially not her sister," he explains, counting off on his fingers. "Her sisters child? She would do everything but kill it if given the chance. That's the only line she wouldn't cross."

I sit there in shock. I know that Dumbledore is manipulating me, or at least, trying to manipulate me. But to knowingly send someone into an abusive home? I just… how could he justify that? What possible reason could he have to do that to another person?

It has been a great help to speak with him. Nothing major, nothing so… important has been discussed, and I try to keep details a bit vague so that he doesn't try to change the future on me. I've still got some major events I've got to get through, and if the Tri-Wizard Tournament is somehow cancelled then I'll have to rethink my whole confrontation with Voldemort. So yeah, we've just talked about snippets, moments that I feel (or Severus feels) have had a large impact on my life, moments that I know have happened already or would have occurred, but I know no longer will.

When Vernon broke my arm because I dropped a glass, shattering it across the kitchen tiles.

The first time I'd ever been embraced, a shy and terrified eleven-year-old, just moments before I went on to kill a man in self-defence.

How I was shunned and sequestered away from the school in my second year, the rumours flowing about the castle proclaiming me to be the Heir of Slytherin.

To speak more on rumours, the bipolar state of the wizarding world. How I can be revered one minute, the hero of the hour, and denounced the next, a teenager being mercilessly attacked and run over roughshod by the Daily Prophet. How many times was I called a potential Dark Lord by that rag? How many times did they decry me to be insane, an attention seeking prick with an inflated head? Honestly, once is too much.

What's funny though, is due to the talks with Severus I've been looking back on everything, and I've realize how silly some of it was. Well, not the child abuse or manslaughter. No, the hummingbird-like temperament of Wizarding Britain, flitting from one thing to another whenever it interests them, taking a sip of gossip here before moving to the next character assassination over there. I should have been taught how to play the media and avoid, or at least skirt around the issues that I faced. Ironically, Lockhart was the only person who ever tried to educate me on how to use and abuse my fame.

I'm starting to realize that I can use my fame to my own benefit if I can get past how much as I detest it. It's one of the cards I've been dealt, why should I not play it?

I'm still not comfortable talking to Severus about my experimentation with necromancy and blood magic, although hopefully in the future we can begin to discuss it. Not quite sure how I'm going to open up that line of questioning. I don't want him to teach me anything, I just want to get a better understanding of all of this from someone who I know has experience with the darker side of magic. I mean, he's an ex-Death Eater, I'd be surprised if he didn't have any input on the subject.

-::-

I shoot up out of bed panting, sweat dripping from my forehead as I burst into tears, torn from my nightmare.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck fuck fuckfuckfuckfuck," I murmur frantically, gripping my head, fingers painfully tangled in my hair.

I can't get it out of my head. I can't

I can't get him out of my head.

I take a deep shuddering breath, trying to calm myself down. Severus obliviated my memories of the rape, quietly cutting them away like a surgeon, deftly slicing and removing the torrid mass of disgust and self-hatred that clung to my mind like a cancer.

No. I can't get my actions out of my head.

I knew I'd have to kill. I always knew it, even before I died. I knew it since I first year, to some degree. Who wouldn't think that they'd have to kill one day, when they're told that the scar on their head was given to them by the same man who killed their parents. Who wouldn't think that they'd have to kill one day, when they meet the spectre of that man at the tender age of eleven.

No, I always knew that I would end up taking a life. There's a war going on and the rest of the world just doesn't know it yet. It's happening on the sidelines, in dark alleys and the hidden corners of the Ministry.

But… Lockhart wasn't involved, and never would have been. If things went as they did before, he would be sitting in the Janus Thickey ward signing autographs with a purple crayon.

Is it worse that I killed him, or is it better? Is it more acceptable to consign a man to life in a mental prison, his mind reverted to that of a child? Or, is it more acceptable to simply kill him outright? What about a third option? Doing neither and having him sent to Azkaban to live the rest of his days in abject horror, tortured by dementors until the day he dies?

I don't know, and I don't think I ever will.

Did I kill him to sate some personal need? Some deep-seated desire to see my one-off torturer, the man who violated me removed from the Earth? Was it out of necessity? Was it the only way in which I could begin to heal? Was it just for revenge? I'm not quite sure. All I know is that it's done and cannot be undone.

My dreams are all the same. Lockhart begging, crying for me to let him go, terrified. Me cutting him in two, removing his head from its shoulders, the horrid spray of blood, a crimson stream pouring from an empty stump.

How I just stood there and stared at his disembodied head for an hour. Just staring.

Fuck. What happens from here on out?

Exhausted, I blindly reaching for my wand. After a few seconds of scrambling in the dark, I finally grasp onto it, flicking it and casting a quick tempus to check the time. Just past four in the morning.

Grumbling, I try to fall back asleep, pulling the covers over my head and staring at the wall. After an hour of tossing and turning underneath the sheets I crawl out and shamble towards the washroom. Ignoring the rising bile in my throat, I jump into the blazing hot shower. It seems to soak through my tired bones, removing the ache I wasn't aware of and bringing some semblance of normality to my very early morning.

The day rushes past in a blur, the shapes and sounds of other students milling about the school just a passing distraction as I go through the motions, functioning on auto-pilot. Hermione and Padma try to start a conversation with me during lunch, but it goes nowhere, the lot of us sitting uncomfortably silent around the Ravenclaw table. I'm brooding again, I know. But everything is starting to catch up to me. The gravity of the situation I've been placed into, the ability to knowingly change the future.

Things are already so different, and it's due to my actions. There is one less person in this world, due to my actions. Yes, Lockhart was disgusting, lower than pond scum, but it was still a life. A life I felt so brazen enough to take into my own hands and crush. Helene Potter, the Girl-Who-Lived and premeditated murderer.

Ignoring the happenings around me, I make my way to Severus' office for one of our regular chats. Yeah, me talking with Severus Snape on the regular? I must be losing my mind.

Knocking on his office door, I'm greeted by the surly potions master who immediately indicates for me to enter. A cup of tea is placed in front of me as I sit down, a builder's brew. I'm surprised he remembers how I prefer it, but it is a simple drink.

Severus leans to the side, his elbow resting on the arm of his chair and his head propped up by his fist, à la The Thinker. "I was wondering if we could discuss more recent occurrences today," he drawls, cutting to the chase.

A tight knot of fear erupts inside of me. I suck in a deep breath as my stomach clenches and twists. Severus notices the change in my demeanor, hesitantly reaching out to grab my hand and quirking the corner of his lips in an awkward smile.

"If you're okay with that, that is."

Sighing, I rub at my eyes. "Yeah, I'm okay with it," I mutter tiredly. It's hard to think when I haven't gotten a good night's rest since the… attack. "I'm just having a hard time getting my thoughts together, you know? I… I've not been well since," I leave the last bit hanging in the air, waving my hand lazily.

Nodding solemnly, he squeezes my hand firmly and slumps into his seat, shoulders sagging under a sudden weight. "I know exactly what you mean."

We sit in silence for a few minutes, neither of us eager to speak first, letting the somber quiet do the talking instead. Evidently uncomfortable, Severus shakily opens his mouth.

"I've been through what you're going through, a long time ago," he begins, eyebrows knotted as he stares deeply into his ignored cup, steam no longer wafting from the cooling tea. "I did some horrible things in my past, as you well know," he continues, gesturing at his left arm with disdain.

"I was- well, I still am, a bitter man." He chuckles wryly at that admission, as if he expected to never say it out loud. "As much as it pains me to say it, it's the truth. I held onto that bitterness, that hatred and contempt. That roil in my gut reminding me of my sins every day. I held onto it and I never let it go, not even to this day."

Taking a moment, he flicks his wand at his tea, heating it up before taking a sip.

"I've killed… on more than one occasion. I took that anger, all those terrible feelings and directed them outwards, taking it out on other people," he snorts, lip curled in his patented sneer. For once, his sneer isn't directed at anyone else, instead reserved only for himself. He wipes the grimace from his face and looks up at me. "You do the same."

Shocked, I reel back slightly.

"What do you mean? I don't take my anger out on anyone!"

"You don't do it in the same way that I do, but you do take it out on yourself, and, to a degree, you take it out on others."

"What are you talking about?" I retort, wondering where the conversation is going.

"You brood, constantly. Well, not brooding per se, but you hide yourself away. I can see the concern in your friends faces, I can see the way you distance yourself from them."

"I don't understand. Where are you going with this?"

"You're going to lose them if you keep acting that way. Trust me, I did the same." He bites his lip, both of us understanding his referral to my Mother, how much he regrets insulting her and destroying their friendship. "Don't do what I did. Don't hold onto that pain, because you'll just direct it outwards and your friends will end up suffering along with you."

"I- well… shit."

God damnit. "I didn't realize. Fuck," I blurt, kneading at my temples. I really have been turning them away, haven't I? I thought nothing of it, I knew was turning them away. But… could it really destroy our friendship? Hermione's friendship? This budding sisterhood with Daphne?

I go back a second, remembering what Severus said. "I don't think you should blame yourself as much as you do about scaring my mother off. With the way my father and his friends acted… you weren't justified in what you did, but I understand it, if that makes sense."

Now it's Severus' turn to be surprised, although the only way he shows it is by the very slight rise of his eyebrows.

"Thank you," he responds quietly. "Did you know about the time Sirius tried to kill me?"

"He what!?" I gasp, incredulous.

"Sirius once convinced me to visit the shrieking shack on the night of the full moon," he seethes, his well schooled features cracking for just a moment. "I was nearly killed by Remus, as wolfsbane was still relatively new at the time, and he couldn't afford it."

I gape at him. "Are you- why in the hell would he do that?"

"Because I was good friends with your Mother. Adding in the tense relationship between the me and the Marauders as well as James' infatuation with Lily, something may have made Sirius feel the need to split us apart." He shrugs in resignation, obviously unsure of why Sirius would do such a thing. "Maybe he did it in some misguided attempt to get James closer to her… maybe he did it purely out of spite. I'm not sure I'll ever know or want to know to be honest."

"I can't believe Sirius would do such a thing…" I croak, shocked beyond belief. Sirius Black? The class clown attempting to murder someone? "That's no prank, that's absolutely horrid!"

"It is, and it was." He stops to think for a moment, evidently pondering whether he should say something. He hesitates briefly before speaking, "I would also like to know what's going on between you and my godson, Draco,' he asks, emphasizing the godson part.

I cross my arms. "I've told him to piss off a couple times," I admit, looking up at the ceiling as I try to remember if I've done anything that wasn't warranted. "What has he been telling you?"

"He's come to me numerous times detailing how you have taunted and attacked him on the Hogwarts Express," Severus explains, clasping his hands in front of him. "The last time it happened I had to treat him for a broken wrist, skele-gro and all, after it had been crushed by you with the compartment door."

"That broke his wrist?" I feel a tinge of regret, but then I remember he drew his wand on me and my friends. "Well, he did brandish his wand in my direction, again, I might add. I have no interest in speaking to him, and I've asked him multiple times to simply leave me and my friends alone." I hold my hands out, palms to the ceiling. "What am I supposed to do when he points his wand at me in anger? Nothing? I know what magic can do, considering I've died already, I'm not too keen on getting killed by a pissed off tween."

Severus nods in understanding. "I also heard that instead of simply shutting the door on him immediately, you kept him around and goaded him."

"Well, I did insult him," I concede.

"Did you need to?"

"No, not really."

"Next time just shut the door on him immediately, understand? You're four years older than him, and nobody at Hogwarts knows that except for the two of us. What you're doing is bullying, a mild form, but bullying nonetheless."

I guess I did lead him along there, riling him up for the sake of riling him up. I groan mentally, realizing that even if Draco's being a prick, I am much older than him. If I was in seventh year and he was in first and acted that way, would I be justified in slamming the door on his wrist? No, not a chance. "I never really thought of it in that context. I forgot that he's a child, and not the Draco that I had to deal with for five long years."

Severus inclines his head, understanding that I've made a simple mistake in how I've approached the problem child that is Draco Malfoy. "Hate begets hate. Yet… it only takes one person to break the cycle. It took me a long time to realize that and I've never quite acted on it," he admits. At least the man understands his own shortcomings and is willing to recognize them. "What I'm trying to say, in a very roundabout way, is that you should do as I say, and not as I do. Treat your friends better and be reasonable in the way that you treat my godson."

Stretching laboriously, he rests his hands in his lap and peers over at me. "Let's get to the point of this visit, enough lecturing on my part. Now… how are you coping?"

I groan audibly, hoping to have skirted around the difficult part of the discussion. "Not well, to be honest," I shrug emphatically. "I'm having nightmares about it. I can barely function anymore… all I see is his eyes before I- before… before I killed him." My breath hitches as I see his face staring back at me once more. "He was terrified. Absolutely and c- completely t- t- terrified. Did you know I just stood there for a while? I just stood there and stared at his c- c- cor- fuck!"

Trembling, I hold back the tears that threaten to spill out. I reach for my tea with shaky hands and slowly bring it up to my lips, the bittersweet tang of bergamot washing over my tongue.

I wipe my eyes on my sleeve, sniffing quietly. "D- did I do the right thing? Was it just revenge? Wha- what happens to me now? I'm a… I'm a murderer. I murdered him, and I just stared at his fucking corpse!"

"You are a murderer," Severus echoes, sticking his hand out and placing one calloused finger underneath my chin, lifting my head and forcing me to look into his eyes. "Many people are murderers. Most of the staff here at Hogwarts are murderers in one way or another. Would you fault Flitwick for accidentally killing a competitor during a duel? Would you fault Babbling for killing her abusive mother in self-defence? So, in turn, would you fault someone for killing the person that molested them? Or would you fault someone for killing the person that molested their child?" Severus lets that hang in the air for a moment, forcing me to think on it.

"Yes? Well, no. I mean, I wouldn't blame them at all, but it's not something that I would feel comfortable openly supporting. Does that make sense?" I hesitate, unsure of how to explain myself. "What happened to Flitwick was an accident… and what happened to Professor Babbling was, well, nobody should have to go through that." I pause for a moment, thinking over his last question. "I wouldn't blame someone for killing a child molester either."

"It does make sense. So why do you hold onto your shame? Why do you feel so much remorse for your actions? I'm not condoning what you did by any means, but I'm not condemning you either. These are questions that will follow you for the rest of your life, so be prepared to answer them, if just for your own sake."

I set my mug down, shuddering slightly. "I… I killed someone. It doesn't matter what he did. Well, it does, but it doesn't give me reason to be his executioner. It's all so confusing." I push the mug around absently, listening as it slides across the desk. "I feel terrible for what I did, but at the same time I feel relieved knowing that he can't hurt anyone ever again."

"That, Helene, that makes you human," he intones, staring at me over his hooked nose. "You'll find in situations like this that there really is no right answer."

-::-

The weeks continue to rush on by, classes divided by a smattering of meetings with Severus, letters to Sirius and Octavius, and plenty of studying with Hermione and the rest of our rag-tag group. I'm happy to find that the relationship between Ravenclaw and Slytherin is a lot less hostile than that of Gryffindor and the latter, which thankfully means that Daphne and Tracey are at no risk of being harassed by their housemates. I assumed at the beginning of last year that we were being given leeway since we were first years, but it turns out that the fighting only occurs between the Lions and Snakes.

I can't imagine how difficult it would be to spend time with the two of them if we were constantly being harangued about associating with each other. I know Ron would have been furious with me for spending time with those 'goddamned snakes.' It just doesn't make sense now that I think about it. It's not like the house rivalries happen after school, right? How the hell would anything get done in this country if people didn't trust others because of who they lived with between the ages of eleven to seventeen?

That sort of leads in to the thinking that I've been doing after my talks with Severus. After a lot of reflection, I've realized some things about myself.

First, I can be an absolute idiot. I never take the high road, ignoring conflict and trying to be the better person simply by avoiding the situation. Doing that doesn't make me the better person, it just makes me lazy.

Another thing, the one that I find is a great realization, is that I've never felt so comfortable in my own skin. It's slightly confusing how I got used to the change so quickly, considering I lived ninety percent of my life as a man and only just recently returned to my original body. I'm still perplexed by Sirius not reacting to me being Helene instead of Harry, when in the last timeline he acted as if I'd always been Harry. He'd completely forgotten the fact that he held me soon after I was born, and I certainly wasn't Harry then. Wouldn't he be confused in this timeline or the previous upon first meeting me? Is Death pulling strings to make my life easier, or did Dumbledore somehow get a hold of him after he'd escaped Azkaban and fiddled with his memories?

Speaking of Sirius, I need to have a… tense conversation with him and Octavius.

I poke my head into Octavius' study, seeing him reading quietly by the fire, bare feet resting on an ottoman. "Hey, Octavius? Can I talk to you for a second? If you could get Sirius for me- uh, that would be great."

"Absolutely, just give me a moment," Octavius says, setting his book down, looking momentarily concerned. "Is everything alright?"

I shake my head. "No, not really. Can you get Sirius first? Please?"

Lips pursed, he nods and leaves the room, coming back upstairs a few minutes later with a slightly flustered looking Sirius. "Everything good Helene?" Sirius asks, looking like he just crawled out of bed. Knowing him, he probably did.

"No," I reply, fists clenched tight and pressed into my thighs as I stare at the carpet. "Nothing is good."

In an instant Sirius is on his knees at my feet, hands resting on his knees as he looks up at me. "What's going on? Are you alright?" He asks frantically, snapping his fingers rapidly in worry. "I'm here for you Helene, I'm always here for you."

"I… shit," I croak, my voice thick. "Things haven't been good, they haven't been good at all."

"I can't do anything if you don't tell me," he babbles, fear in his eyes. "Please, tell me so I can help."

Octavius sits down next to me, the sofa dipping slightly as he sinks into the cushions. "We're here for you Helene, whatever it is," he consoles, placing his hand on my arm gently.

I flinch away from his touch, startling Octavius as I shrink into myself at his gesture.

"Sorry! Sorry!" I gasp, trying to pass off the flinch. "You scared me!"

Eyes dark, he pulls his hands back and rests it in his lap, taking care not to touch me. "Someone hurt you," he hisses through clenched teeth.

"What!" Sirius barks, sharing a look with Octavius as fury begins to work over his features.

"Someone hurt you."

I can feel my fingernails digging into my palms, muscles rigid and tense as I try to control myself. Deep breaths only serve to make things worse, my mouth dry and the rattle in my throat growing louder. I can hear the pounding in my ears as I shut my eyes tight, doing everything I can to just stay in control.

"It's o- okay," I stutter quietly. "I... I- I killed him. He can't h- hurt anyone anymore."

Suddenly I'm held tightly in Sirius' arms, cradling me against his chest as he rocks me back and forth. "I've got you, I've got you," he whispers, hand planted firmly against my back as he clutches me for dear life. "I've got you Helene, it's okay now. Everything is okay."

Sobbing, I clutch fistfuls of his robes like my life depends on it, my head buried in his chest as I break down. "He- he raped me," I whimper, weak and strained. I sound like I'm falling apart.

I probably am.

"He raped me."

Cradling me, Sirius picks me up and takes me to my room as he quietly whispers reassurances.

I've got you. I've got you. It's alright. You're okay.

"I'm not okay."

A pitiful whine sneaks out of Sirius' mouth, the grim inside him begging to be let free. "You'll be okay, not now, but some day." He tries to reassure me, his voice wavering. "Time helps, it helps a lot."

I snort childishly, nestling my head in the crook of his arm. "Is that what you say to yourself? …To get through it all?"

"Every day," he quietly confesses. "Every day."

"Talk to me."

Jaw set tight, he rests me gently on my bed and sits down next to me, staring at the wall as he sorts through his thoughts. "I'm not so sure that's a good idea." He turns to look at me. I notice the fear he tries to hide away, how he doesn't look directly at me, the way his hands are still trembling. "I think we should talk about you, what you're going through."

"After you," I demand, staring him down.

His throat bobs as he gulps deeply, biting his lip tight, turning it white as he cuts off blood flow. "I forget sometimes," he murmurs, his haunted voice trembling. "I forget that… I forget that James and Lily are gone. I see her when I see you, you know? You look so much like her," he continues, wiping at his eyes.

"I forget that I spent so long in that hell-hole… Azkaban." His hands ball into fists, and he pushes them forward, kneading the flesh of his thighs. "It's a blight, a scar. It shouldn't exist. Eleven years there… it blurs things, pushes them together in a way that I can't really sort it all out."

I reach out, placing my hand on his forearm and squeezing lightly. He looks over to me and smirks slightly, eyes fresh with tears. "It was bad there, very bad. I can't quite put into words what kind of torture it is to be imprisoned there, let alone knowing I'm innocent. I wake up sometimes thinking it was all some terrible nightmare, that I'll be resting on the couch in Godric's Hollow and see you putter out crying for your 'pa' foot.' Some days… some days it feels like I'm not even here."

I chuckle morosely, understanding him completely. "I sort of get what you mean. I feel distant, like I'm not really part of the flow of life, if that makes any sense.' I fidget, twiddling my fingers as I mull over my thoughts. "I don't know if it's because I've been through so much and that was the final straw, if I've finally reached my limit. I don't know if it's because of… what happened to me, or what I did to him."

Sirius wraps his arm around my shoulder, pulling me in tight even as I instinctively flinch away. "Nobody will ever hurt you again, not if I have any say in it," he growls.

"Thanks," I sniff, wiping my runny nose. "I'm just trying to come to terms with it all. What happened to me, what happened to him. I feel so… violated. I feel used. Broken. Like an old toy cast aside and forgotten."

"You are not broken in any way shape or form; do you hear me?" He objects, grabbing me by the shoulders and holding me out in front of him, staring me in the eyes. He smiles widely, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Helene Lily Potter, you are a wonderful young girl, and you are one of the most whole people I have ever met. The things you've gone through, the stories you told me… you're strong. You know I admire you?"

I blink in confusion. "Huh?"

Sirius laughs, a proper laugh. Not his hysterical bark, nor some forced chuckle to make me feel better. It's an honest, humble laugh. It's a laugh that, for just a moment, makes me feel like everything is okay. "Yeah, your rapscallion of a godfather admires you, little ol' you," he smiles, poking my cheek playfully. "You're a fighter. More of a fighter than I ever have been. Hell, you're more of a fighter than me, your dad and your mum combined. If they saw you now, you know what they would say?"

I shake my head softly, perplexed as I stare up at Sirius.

"They'd be damn proud of the woman you're becoming. They're looking down on you right now and probably saying to each other 'look at her, look at how incredible our daughter is'."

I bite my lip as I hold back a fresh wave of tears, snuggling in tight under Sirius' arm.

"I think you should get some rest," he says, moving to let go of me.

"No!" I shout. "Don't go! Please… please stay. Stay as Padfoot."

Sirius quickly shifts, curling up next to me as I crawl under the covers.

"Thank you, Sirius. I…. I love you."

A quiet snuffle and shove of his snout is all the response I need.

-::-

Christmas day comes quickly, and the Greengrasses are as frantic as they were last year, Astoria rushing around in an excited frenzy, bursting at the seams as she bounces around at the mention of presents. Sirius of course, is no better. The man can go from worldly and mature to emotionally stunted man-child in the blink of an eye, and I love him for it. Although, it can be a bit concerning when he refuses to act like an adult.

I peer at the gift I have ready for the Greengrasses and my stomach flips. I feel a bit bad about accepting their offer and forgoing Sirius, but I spoke with him and he understands my decision.

"I don't fault you for it, honestly," he remarks.

I stare down at my hands, one thumb tracing along my palm nervously. "Are you sure? You're my godfather, I know how much this means to you."

Sirius sighs, his voice steady and controlled as he explains himself. "I can't be much of a godfather when I'm dealing with my own demons can I? I'll always be involved in your life Helene, I'll always be there for you, I just don't know how long it will be until I can really be there."

I bounce lightly on the balls of my feet, psyching myself up for what I'm about to do. I march into the sitting room and join the rest of the family as they crowd around the tree, Daphne smirking at Astoria's antics as she and Octavius get into another argument on who gets to open presents first. Tracey sits off to the side, completely in her element and accustomed to the holiday induced high that afflicts the Greengrasses around Christmas.

Ignoring everyone, Sirius dives through the crowd and begins to tear into one of his gifts excitedly, squealing loudly when he pulls out a necklace with charms of a grim, stag, and wolf hanging from it.

"I love it! Thank you, Helene!" He gasps as he pulls me into a tight embrace.

"I'm glad you like it Sirius," I mange to choke out, smothered by him. "Could you let me breathe?"

Laughing, he lets go of me and grabs a box, tossing it to Astoria to open up, which she does with exuberance.

We go around the group, a pile of gift wrap slowly building up around us as we progress through the presents until we come to me.

I bite my lip nervously, apprehension plaguing me. "Octavius? Terra? I've got something for the two of you."

Terra smiles at me, waving her hand. "You didn't have to get us anything Helene, it's alright!"

"Shh, what if it's a really fantastic present?" Octavius argues, jaw slack as he stares at his wife refusing a present of all things.

"I wouldn't say it's a present per se," I mumble, working up the courage. "It's more of a response?"

Terra squeaks, here eyes widening when she understands what I'm saying. I pull the papers out from behind my back, shakily handing them to her. Octavius grins widely as he looks over it. I turn to look at Daphne and Astoria, and they're smiling excitedly at me, Astoria practically vibrating with glee. Tracey looks on blankly, causing me to frown momentarily. I wonder if she's alright?

"We didn't think you would sign," Terra sniffs, daintily wiping away a tear. "I love it, thank you Helene."

Octavius reaches over and pulls me into a bear hug. I manage not to flinch, having expected it. "I think it's an absolutely fantastic present my dear! I'd like to give you the official welcome to the Greengrass family!"

I look over his shoulder at Daphne and Astoria again, and I sigh in relief as they continue to smile back at me. "Are you two okay with this?"

"You kidding me? You're pretty much already my sister, I was waiting for you to sign the bloody thing," Daphne quips, shaking her head in amusement.

"Language!"

"Sorry Mum!"

Giggling, Astoria jumps over the pile of gift wrap and tackles me to the ground, tearing me out of Octavius' arms. "You're going to be a much better sister than Daphne," she jokes, dragging out the 'u' in much as she sticks her tongue out at her sister. "You're actually fun to be around, unlike Miss Perfect over there."

"Hey! I'm fun!" Daphne argues, cheeks puffed out angrily.

"Nope!"

"No more arguing!" Sirius shouts, everyone snapping their head to look at him as he poses regally.

"I'm obviously the most fun," he declares, hands on his hips and chin in the air.

"Why the ego of you!" Terra argues, rolling her eyes. "Obviously I'm the most fun!"

"I'm afraid I have you beat dear," Octavius says, stepping up and placing a solemn hand on his wife's shoulder. "I'm sorry I have to be the one to let you down, but I'm the most fun member of this family."

"Circe, the adults in this family are more immature than us," Daphne whispers, Astoria putting a hand over her mouth and giggling not so subtly.

"I heard that!"

Giggling, Astoria grabs my hand and drags me out of the sitting room, I look back quickly, noticing Tracey staring at me silently, an odd look on her face.

"Come on sis' let's get out of here and hit the pitch, these guys are boring me."

"Hey!"

I follow her out of the house, finding myself even more confused when Tracey doesn't get up to follow us, instead leaving with Daphne to the garden, the two of them having a quiet yet heated discussion.

Edited, 04/06/2018.