A/N: I went too description heavy on this one.

Early 1929

The moment she reached her destination, her jaw almost dropped as she took in the sight before her. Never before had she seen such a large estate – Hogwarts, as a school, simply did not count – with acres of farmland peppered sparsely with small cottages stretching as far as the eye could see, the wide stone path winding past the wrought iron gate before her and disappearing around the corner, the walls enclosing the estate obstructing her view of what the path led to.

Shaking her head, she snapped herself out of her dazed fancy and stared at the wretched gate that was blocking her way. Dumbledore hadn't bothered to tell her how to actually get into the manor but had warned her about the use of wards around private homes: those that didn't allow apparition and those that physically barred visitors from entering. She'd never faced either of these sorts of wards before and was anxious to find out which type had been used on this manor if not both. She wondered if Dark wizards employed the use of other more dangerous wards in addition to the usual ones in order to cause extra harm to their enemies.

Unable to legally Apparate, she had no other choice but to actually touch the gate and open it. Reaching for the latch, she braced herself for the inevitable reaction she'd get from the wards. There was none. She blinked, her hand tightening around the latch handle. Grindelwald was many things but he definitely wasn't stupid. She hoped the absence of physical wards meant that there were apparition wards on the manor, for the alternative—no wards at all—was a terrifying prospect. The only explanation for a lack of security was that Grindelwald must have known she, or another one of Dumbledore's associates, was going to come here today.

A loud pop drew her attention and she looked down to see an elf peering up at her. She let go of the handle, feeling like she'd been caught committing a crime. There was no turning back now that she'd been seen. She wouldn't get an opportunity like this again, trap or not.

"Welcome to Lestrange Manor, mademoiselle," the elf greeted meekly, bowing her head and opening the gate without even touching it. "Dot will show you inside."

She didn't know what to say. She supposed this was the Lestrange family's house-elf. Their slave. Her stomach churned. She knew better than anyone what it was like to be enslaved, having unwittingly walked into a form of slavery when she joined the Circus Arcanus. It was disappointing that Credence, having seen the ringmaster's treatment of the Arcanus' house-elf, approved of keeping them.

As she followed Dot up the incredibly long pathway which curved off to the right, an impressive manor house came into view about a hundred yards ahead. Her eyes widened at the size of the building for it looked as huge as Hogwarts castle but was probably inhabited by only a few people. The exterior of the house could only be described as a combination of beauty and gloom, rather fitting considering who its master was. She sighed, wondering if this was what Credence had sold his integrity for: a fake identity and illegal occupation of a drowned child's manor. Taking another look at her surroundings, she had to admit that it almost worth it.

.:. QK .:.

Sipping from her cup of tea, she surveyed the drawing room, her eyes particularly drawn to the portrait of a red-haired woman who was staring back at her with a malicious gleam in her eyes. Feeling uncomfortable, she warily turned her head away from the portrait and settled her gaze upon one of the windows. She almost jumped when she heard a pop similar to the one she'd heard earlier followed by hushed whispering and shuffling. She listened carefully but while she could hear the voices of Dot and a third party, she couldn't discern what was being said.

The voices suddenly stopped, the drawing room door swinging open only seconds later. She didn't turn, keeping her back to the door.

"I'm sorry to keep you waiting, mademoiselle," came the soft voice, her accent clearly American. "Corvus is currently away on business but I would be happy to help."

Corvus. Corvus was away on Valentine's Day.

She felt an inexplicable stab of irritation, setting her cup of tea down on the coffee table and deciding to give the woman a piece of her mind. She finally turned around, the words practically dancing on the tip of her tongue only to quickly disperse when she actually saw her hostess. The tall blonde was leaning against the door, her widened eyes a striking shade of green, the same eyes she had seen in the hospital all those years ago, belonging to the same woman she vaguely remembered walking away from Jacob after Credence had walked away from her. Queenie Goldstein, Tina's estranged sister.

"Mademoiselle, your tea," Dot interrupted as she entered the room, seemingly oblivious to the tension in the air.

"Thank you, honey," the blonde spoke, taking the cup of tea from Dot. The blonde took a seat near her by the fireplace as the house-elf left the room, an obviously forced smile on her face. "My name is Queenie. How can I help you?"

"Where's Grindelwald?" she asked bluntly, getting straight to the point. According to Dumbledore, this manor house was Grindelwald's new headquarters but the man himself was nowhere to be seen. She hardly thought he had a paramour to celebrate Valentine's Day with.

"Why, he's not here," Queenie responded airily before casually taking a sip of her tea. Her nonchalance was annoying, to say the least. "Why would he be? This isn't his home."

Home was a subjective word. Queenie must have known that well. From experience, she knew that one could live somewhere for a number of years and not feel at home but could also spend a few days elsewhere and feel like it was home. What was it that people said? Home is where the heart is. The forest had been her home. The four circuses hadn't been her home. The abandoned building she and Credence had stayed in after running away from the circus had felt like home. The house she was staying in now, though a friend's home, wasn't her home. This manor... this manor was neither her home, nor Credence's, nor Grindelwald's.

"Is it your home?" she implored, staring Queenie right in the eyes as if daring her to answer. She winced, a pinching sensation pulsing through her mind.

"It's not like that between Corvus and I," Queenie said firmly, just about retaining that false smile of hers.

Recalling the last time the Legilimens ravaged her mind, she averted her gaze and picked her cup of tea up again. "I never said that."

"You thought it."

She sat back, taking a long sip. She hadn't even realised she'd thought that. It was unnerving that Queenie knew what she was thinking before she did.

This was the right time to carry out Newt's tentative request. "No, I suppose your home is somewhere far, far from here." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Queenie's fake smile falter for a second. "Your sister, your lover, your brother in law"—the blonde gasped—"they're all waiting for you back home."

"Tina and Newt got married?" Queenie questioned, her voice full of wonder.

"Why do you care?" she countered, taking a quick glance at her adversary. "You left them. You abandoned the people who loved you for a man who's just using you."

This seemed to strike a nerve in Queenie. "Sometimes, the people we love hold us back!" she retorted, her face flushed and her smile long gone. She leaned forward, forcing eye contact between the two of them. "That's exactly why he left you."

Heat rushed to her face and rage boiled through her as the cup in her hands exploded, the lukewarm tea spilling all over her dress. She immediately stood up, incensed, reaching for her wand as Queenie called out for Dot.

She performed Tergeo on her dress as Dot appeared a second later and wordlessly repaired the broken cup. Satisfied, she turned to Queenie and asked, "Where is he then? I'd like to hear him tell me what you said himself."

"I already told you; he's away on business," Queenie replied hastily. She didn't have to be a Legilimens to tell that Queenie wasn't entirely being truthful.

Lestrange Manor was massive. She gathered that it was quite possible for two people to be in the building at the same time and not notice the other's presence; the house was perfect for one occupant, especially a wizard, to avoid and hide from another.

"I'll wait for him," she announced as both Dot and Queenie stared at her.

Exchanging a look with Dot, Queenie Disapparated without another word.

.:. QK .:.

Her willpower was not something that was easily broken. If it were, she would have never survived the harsh reality of her life after her mother died. She would have never survived the next person she loved leaving her just like her mother had. She would not have survived what she went through in the months after what happened in the Lestrange Mausoleum. She would have taken her own life, just like one of her weary and disillusioned ancestors had hundreds of years ago.

Days after arriving at Lestrange Manor, she had yet to see Corvus, Grindelwald, or anyone besides Dot. She spent most of her time in the expansive library, browsing the bookshelves and creating a sort of inventory of the books in her head. To her horror, a good portion of the books were about the Dark Arts, containing not only evil and destructive spells she'd never heard of but also information about potions and artefacts intended solely for nefarious purposes. The thought of Credence—Corvus—surrounding himself with these books sent a shiver up her spine.

All of her meals were spent alone; just her sitting at the head of the empty and long dining table as Dot served her food she never had to ask for. It reminded her of the lonely years in various circuses where no one cared to sit with her because they were either jealous of her or thought she was an even bigger freak than they were. Even at the non-wizarding circus, she was treated like an outcast because of (she assumed) her ethnic background.

Yet she knew there was someone else besides Dot in the house with her. At night, she would hear footsteps too heavy to be that of an elf's in the hallway, floorboards creaking under the person's feet as he roamed around the first floor of the manor house. Despite her curiosity, she never explored the first floor for she considered it rude to barge into other people's bedrooms, especially in someone else's house. Like a dutiful guest, she went straight to her bedroom—the guest room she'd been allocated to—in the evening and straight downstairs in the morning.

Tonight was different, though. Tonight, she had to transform to relieve the telltale itching that afflicted her when she went a certain number of days without transforming. The interval between 'mandatory' transformations was now just five days, a grim reminder that her time as a human was running out.

Perched on the edge of her bed, she sighed and looked out of the window. At least she had relatively private grounds to roam around as a viper. It'd been difficult in Newt's garden, in the middle of a muggle neighbourhood. She closed her eyes, surrendering herself to the serpent inside her as she felt her bones shift and rearrange themselves...

The next morning, she woke up in a bed that wasn't hers. She sat up, still half asleep, groaning at the all too familiar ache in her bones.

"Go back to sleep," a voice she hadn't heard in a while spoke. "You need the rest."

His words had the opposite effect, making her fully open her eyes and take in his appearance.

"Credence," she whispered.

A/N: Ehh, I'm not really happy about this chapter.