Chapter 3
The room was dark, just the way he liked it. Shadows and silence. There was a comfort to be found in the blackness. He'd learned that it was best to stay hidden. So much more could be accomplished when he remained out of the notice of others.
And so he remained in the shadows of life, hidden in the darkness, existing only as a faint movement, an echo that may or may not exist.
Sirius called him dramatic, but, in truth, Sirius had lived in the shadows for almost as long as he had.
"Post!"
He looked up from the book he was reading at Sirius' call. A sigh left his lips and he shook his head. Post for most wizards meant something far different than it did for this house.
"Blackheart? Where did you get off to?"
"In the library."
Sirius strode down the hallway and leaned on the door jam. He held up a sealed piece of parchment by the corner, as if it might bite him.
"Anything good?"
"You know I don't open it," he said with a smirk. "Never have, never will. I'm not your personal assistant."
Blackheart sighed and set his book aside. He was bored with it anyway. He held out his hand and summoned the letter to him, wondering what this one was about. Lately, the requests had been coming in steadily as word of his skills spread. While it kept the money flowing in, it was not always a good thing to be known in the circles that he was.
"As long as it's not another Death Eater request," he mumbled. The last one had come just the other day, a plea to help the Death Eaters infiltrate the Ministry via the Minister of Magic himself. While Blackheart certainly had no love for the Ministry, he agreed with the Death Eaters even less.
"Cheating spouse?" Sirius asked casually as Blackheart scanned the inquiry. "Business deal gone bad?"
Blackheart sighed. "Business abroad," he mumbled. "One of my former clients needs help tracking a suspect on the continent."
Sirius' eyebrows rose and he gave a slow, thoughtful nod. "Haven't been over there in awhile."
"Shouldn't take long," Blackheart said. "The French Ministry always pays well, but they leak like a sieve. I'm surprised that they haven't found this bloke already, just on their own."
"Ah, well, you know the French…" Sirius raised his shoulders in a dismissive shrug.
Blackheart rose and stretched, already mentally marking the steps he would need to take to leave Britain and slip unnoticed into France. His contact there would help, of course, but it was up to him to get the ball rolling.
"Wait...is this the French woman?"
Blackheart didn't answer, but just smiled smugly as he passed through the doorway and down the hall. "Wouldn't you like to know."
"I would," Sirius said. "I'd like to go, actually."
"We both know you can't leave the house," Blackheart said, even though it didn't need to be said. Sirius hadn't left Grimmauld Place in years, not even in his Animagus form. There had been a few close calls with determined Aurors that were not worth the risk. And even though Sirius would have been more than willing to take the risks, Blackheart wasn't. He'd charmed the entire house to prevent Sirius from leaving.
Maybe it was extreme, but it was necessary for the time being. He sometimes felt bad for imprisoning Sirius, he didn't feel that he had a choice right now. Perhaps if Sirius wasn't so foolhardy and reckless…
"I'll figure it out, Master!" Sirius called as Blackheart cringed.
"Don't call me that."
But Sirius only laughed and went about whatever it was he did all day. Blackheart pushed the guilt down deep and began summoning the things he would need to be away from the house for a few weeks. One never knew how long these cases would take.
"He will come." She refused to look at the man next to her, instead focusing on the grey morning fog surrounding them and the way it crept along the ground like a spell. If she didn't know better, she might guess that's exactly what it was. And it would suit his purposes to create something just like it.
"You have a lot of faith in this mystery man," her partner said.
"He has proven himself in the past."
"You know nothing about him."
Her back prickled in irritation, goosebumps raising along her neck. "I know enough."
Bonneau only nodded as he pulled his overcoat tighter around him and shivered from the cool air enveloping them. "You fancy him."
The French Auror sniffed disdainfully. "I do not like English men," she said plainly. In truth, she was rather distrustful of all men, given her heritage and past experiences. This man they were waiting for intrigued her, but not in a romantic way. He was a mystery, one that she seemed drawn to discover. At the same time, the secrecy he worked under was necessary, she believed, and she understood his desire to remain unknown.
"How do you know he is English?"
She opened her mouth to respond, but realized that Bonneau was correct. She'd made an assumption because he spoke only in English and the Ministry wired his payment to a Gringott's account. But that all might be a ruse, might it not?
"He is here."
A dark figure appeared in the fog, moving closer until he stood in front of them. Floating next to him was the man that the Aurors had been tracking for months. He was bound and stunned.
"Your prisoner, Mademoiselle Delacour."
She startled and peered into the black cloak that concealed the man's face and form. There was some sort of charm there, also, obscuring any chance at recognition. Fleur was impressed with the spell work.
"I do not remember telling you my name."
She got the impression that he smiled, although without seeing his face it was impossible to tell.
"Is it not polite to tell me yours, then, Monsieur Ombragė?" It was a blatant flirt, and likely not fair at all as Fleur tried her best to charm him.
But he only laughed, a deep rumble that made her both chagrined and annoyed. "I'm afraid that is not the way this works."
"Very well, then." She raised her wand and took control of the floating body. He may have dragged slightly on the ground as she floated him to Bonneau's side, but Fleur didn't feel bad at all. This wizard had been peddling illegal potions to children and would now pay for his crimes.
"Monsieur Ombragė, will you walk with me a moment?" Fleur gave her partner a sideways glance, ignoring the perturbed look on his face. But she was the ranking partner and made the decisions.
The shadowy man obliged and fell into step beside her. "The funds have been transferred to your account, just as before."
"Thank you."
"My partner is-"
"Curious?"
"Nosy," she corrected with a smile. "He does not trust you."
"He has little reason to," the man pointed out.
"But I do," Fleur pressed on. "You have given me reason to."
They walked a few more paces in silence. "How is your sister, then?"
Fleur's heart fluttered slightly at the thought of what this man had done for her, personally. "She is recovering. A little better each day."
Gabrielle had gone missing from Beauxbatons just over a year ago and was missing for several months. Out of desperation, Fleur had stumbled upon the work of this man next to her and begged for his assistance in finding her little sister. Within days, Gabrielle had been found and returned to her family home. She was traumatized and suffering from minor wounds, but safe once again thanks to the man Fleur called Monsieur Ombragė.
She had not hesitated to call on him several months later when the French Aurors had found themselves in a sticky situation with their magical government. And Monsieur Ombragė had delivered once again.
"That is good."
"We are in your debt again," Fleur said.
"Not at all."
"I know you see this as a mutually beneficial business arrangement-"
"Is it not?"
Fleur laughed softly and shook her head. "What I mean to say, sir, is that I am in your debt, both personally and professionally, no matter the fees already paid. If there is anything you ever need, you know where to find me."
The man gave a nod and turned, shadow rippling across the place where his face should be. "Mademoiselle Delacour." He gave a half bow and winked out of existence with a snap. As he left, a breeze picked up and blew the fog from the landscape, leaving the grey morning in its place.
"Of course." Fleur laughed again as she turned on her heel and returned to her partner.
When Blackheart apparated into the house, he listened closely, expecting Sirius to appear, demanding a report of all things French. But nobody greeted him. He scowled and scanned the magical signatures in the house, finding everything in place. Nobody had come or gone unexpectedly.
"Padfoot?"
No answer.
Blackheart checked the magic again, looking closer now at the wards. Sirius was a powerful wizard, but he'd never found a way past the wards on the house before. Was it possible…?
A dull thump-thump echoed from upstairs and Blackheart pondered it a moment before barking out a laugh. He bounded up the stairs, making his way up to the top floor. In the dark recesses of one of the bedrooms he found Sirius...dangling upside down from the ceiling, bound and gagged.
Blackheart leaned against the wall and shook his head slowly. "How many times have you tried this and found the exact same results?"
Sirius glared at him and pushed off the wall, only succeeding in making himself swing back and forth wildly.
"And how long have you been like this this time?"
A muffled groan answered him back. Blackheart grinned and silently removed the gag from Sirius' mouth. A foul stream of profanity answered him, but he waited it out.
"How long?"
"Your elf came," Sirius growled. "He wouldn't let me down, either."
Blackheart nodded. "How long?"
"Three days."
"And have you had a change of heart?"
Another string of profanities bounced off the walls.
"I might if you'd ever let me out of this prison. I didn't escape Azkaban only to be locked up in this miserable place forever, you know."
"You know what the Ministry would do if you were caught."
Sirius struggled once more before going limp. "Back to Azkaban."
"No," Blackheart barked. "It'd be the kiss for you. They've been saying it for years now. You're still a wanted man, Padfoot. And I can't…" He huffed out a breath and shook his head, wishing he had a way with words enough to convey what he wanted to say. "I can't do what I do without you."
"I know."
"Then why do you try to apparate out?"
"I didn't this time."
Blackheart's eyes were drawn to the window, which he'd just now realized was cracked open. "You tried to climb out the window?"
Sirius didn't answer, just glared.
"It's for your own good." Blackheart released him, lowering him slowly to the ground.
Sirius lay on the floor, his long hair in disarray around his head. "Would you think so if it were you locked away like this?"
"In a way, I am," Blackheart answered. He stared at the small bit of light let in by the open window. "I can't show my face outside this house, not my real face, anyway. And nobody knows I even exist."
"We're a pair, aren't we?"
Their eyes met and they both sighed. Sometimes this life was so very lonely, for both of them. Soon, they would both need to make some decisions about the future. Hiding away in the dark wasn't going to be an option for very much longer. The Death Eaters were beginning to ravage the country and Blackheart was tired of trying to clean up their messes. And the Ministry wasn't much better. If they knew where he was-or even who he was-there would be no stopping them from using him as some sort of weapon.
"Did Dobby leave?"
"He said he'd return later," Sirius said. "You need to get that elf in hand. He's far too independent for his own good."
Blackheart just laughed and shook his head. "There's no controlling him. You know this."
"You're the only one with a chance at doing it."
"He's a free elf," Blackheart pointed out. "And he's probably more capable than either of the two of us. Come on then, you're probably starved."
"Famished."