Hello all!

This chapter was a difficult one, as I had to make definite decisions about which way the story would go...

I hope you like it.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything (not even a pot to...)

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Chapter 8: Everything Old is New Again

London, January 1990.

It was the second of January, and days before the start of a new decade, London was hit by heavy storm and the bone – chilling wind had lingered into the New Year. The Leaky Cauldron was almost empty, save for a few witches and wizards, trying to warm up from the cold.

Remus sat at a table by a large fireplace, waiting for his order. He hadn't expected to visit the city this trip, but an owl from an old friend, and a newly adopted outlook on life had compelled him alter his travel plans before heading back to France.

"I've missed you," said Hestia Jones, as she looked at Remus with dark, wide eyes.

He immediately felt that maybe, just maybe, agreeing to meet his old girlfriend (in fact, his last girlfriend) for a drink may have been a mistake.

"Thank you," he responded, unsure what to say.

She looked at him incredulously for a moment.

"Haven't you missed me?" she asked, batting her lashes and sounding hurt.

"I have." He felt compelled to lie out of politeness.

She beamed. He instantly felt guilty.

Remus had seen her on Christmas day in Hogsmeade. She was visiting family and stayed at the Inn for the night. Their first meeting had been typical of the awkwardness of former lovers, full of short, vague questions and one – word answers, so he was surprised when she owled him the next day. He was even more surprised with himself when he accepted her invitation to 'catch – up over drinks'.

"It's been so long," she said after a long silence, even though she had said it twice since he sat down.

He decided to end the awkwardness and ask her the most casual, non – committal question he could think of.

"So what have you been up to?"

In return, he received every detail for the past five years. In addition to her own life, she informed him about the goings on of their classmates, including bits about people he didn't remember or never knew. He wondered, as she droned on for forty-five minutes, if she had always been this vapid, and if she had, why he hadn't noticed it. She was still speaking when Tom, the barman, placed the third pint of butterbeer in front of him.

"…and they got married just last year, it was such a beautiful wedding…"

As optimistic as he tried to be, he found he really didn't care about the old crowd. Just as he was about to make an excuse to leave, he saw a small, familiar figure walk through the pub and head towards the entrance to Diagon Alley.

What's she doing here?

"…Don't you think? Remus?"

He snapped back to the rosy – cheeked woman in front of him and realized she was addressing him.

"Uh, yes," he answered uncertainly. She didn't seem to notice.

"I'm so glad you think so, too," she said, a smile of relief on her face as she reached over to stroke his hand.

He stiffened.

Oh, bollocks, what have I just agreed to?

"I know it will be a little difficult for the next few months but once the school year is finished, you can move back."

"What?"

"Well, you didn't think I was going to move to France did you?" she asked, giggling.

Oh, shit.

His mind raced as he frantically tried to recall the conversation he only half – listened to. He drew a blank.

"I was thinking Hogsmeade would be a nice place to live, my aunt loves it there…" She began talking once more, without noticing the look of horror on Remus' face as he realized he'd done it again.

The hopeful, expectant feeling he had been nursing since Christmas had all but evaporated as he desperately tried to recall how exactly he had reconciled with Hestia once more.

At Hogwarts, she'd been the second girl he'd ever dated, on the rebound from his first love, Jillian Minkus. Then she was the third. Then the fifth. He would break up with her and always end up 'giving it another go', even though he really didn't want to. He finally rid himself of the habit in sixth year (with a little help from his friends), only to reconcile with her after the war. He had needed someone and she was there, a shoulder to cry on, a sympathetic ear. They lasted three years that last time, until, frustrated by the lack of opportunities for a werewolf (and desperate to get away from anyone tied to the past) he left suddenly to find work abroad. That time, he broke up with her via note.

He suddenly realized he'd have to do it again. Now. In person.

Just as he was about to interrupt Hestia, he noticed a tall, pale figure, once more familiar, yet disconcerting, make his way to Diagon Alley. A feeling of foreboding hit him.

"Hestia," he interrupted, jumping up suddenly, "I just remembered, I'm going to be late for my train."

She looked at him skeptically.

"I thought your train didn't leave for hours?"

"No, no, very soon," he responded, tapping his watch for emphasis.

"Well, I'll see you off," she said, smiling, "that way we'll have some more time to talk about us."

He blinked rapidly, trying to wrap his mind around the 'us' in her statement, and knowing he had to make things clear to her but anxious to get away.

"I'd really like that," he said, thinking quickly, "but I just remembered, I have to pick up a book in Diagon Alley and, uh, I've got to go quick!"

"Okay," she said, still skeptical, but Remus didn't care at the moment. He was desperate to get away from his once former girlfriend.

"I'll write you," he said, attempting a smile. She seemed to accept this and rose to kiss him. He returned a hurried kiss and ran off towards the alley, never looking back.

He sprinted towards the entrance to Diagon Alley, tapped the bricks and walked through the opening just as Lucius Malfoy rounded a corner. The training from his days with the Order of the Phoenix came back to him and he immediately began to follow the former Death Eater stealthily. Malfoy peered through storefront windows as if looking for someone and Remus' fears were realized as he spotted Kali entering Knockturn Alley, Lucius trailing behind her.

What does he want with her?

Remus watched as Kali, almost unrecognizable now with the hood of her heavy, black cloak pulled over her long, raven hair, turned into Borgin and Burkes. Lucius slowed and slipped in moments later. Remus felt anxiety tugging at his insides. He walked to the storefront and peered in the grimy window. Kali was at the far end of the counter engaged in conversation with one of the proprietors (he couldn't tell which), while Lucius skulked in a corner just behind her and out of sight. Just then, a small group of witches strode past the shop, pausing at the door. This gave Remus enough cover to slip in unseen. As the witches moved on, the noise of chatter died away and he listened intently for any sliver of conversation from Kali and the old man behind the counter, while he edged closer up the aisles.

"…Did you sell it?"

"No, miss."

"Have you seen it before?" she demanded.

Remus made his way through a narrow aisle and spotted Lucius Malfoy hidden behind a large, banged up dresser, a curious look on his face.

"Can't say I have, miss, but maybe you'd be willing to part with it?"

"No," he heard her answer with conviction, " I don't think I will. Thanks for nothing."

Remus ducked as Kali passed the aisle in which he hid, and stormed out the door.

He was curious to know where she was headed next and was prepared to follow Malfoy out the door, when he heard the familiar, refined drawl.

"Nice work, Borgin, do you chase all your customers away or just the pretty ones?"

"That one's got an attitude."

Remus inched closer up the aisle.

"Do you know who she is?"

"Should I?"

"That, my dear man, is Celestia del Fuego's granddaughter, Kali del Fuego."

He could see the old man's face, looking stricken. He said nothing.

"You should have accommodated her. You know how those women can get."

Borgin scowled but looked worried. "If she wanted to know about the piece, she should have asked nicely."

"Well, it must have been a valuable piece if you wanted to get your hands on it." Remus knew Malfoy was fishing for information.

"It's the finest piece I've seen in a while, quite a rare French goblin – crafted antique," Borgin responded, a greedy look in his eyes.

"And where would one find a piece like that?"

Borgin looked puzzled for a moment. "Must be from one of the shops in Paris".

"In the Rue Rocaille?" he asked, naming the equivalent of Diagon Alley in Paris.

"Uh, suppose so," Borgin answered uncertainly. "But, sir," he hesitated, "you didn't give it to her?"

"Lower your voice, man!" Lucius hissed, looking around wildly at the few customers in the shop, then whispered, "Why would you assume that?"

Remus could see the pale man's reflection in the glass – front cabinets behind the counter.

Borgin, not wanting to offend his wealthy customer, chose his words carefully. "Well it's quite expensive and…"he trailed, obviously flustered by the murderous stare Malfoy fixed him with.

"Spit it out!" Lucius hissed once more.

"It's a powerful and dark object," he whispered, "one that controls the person who wears it."

Remus felt a pang of fear for his young student. Through the reflection, he saw a look of worry come over Malfoy's face. He turned suddenly without a word and strode quickly out the door, as the old man called after him, "she should've sold me the necklace!"

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Kali lingered by the bar of The Leaky Cauldron, checking the time on the oversized clock. It was hours until her train departed for Dover, where she would brave the muggle ferry to Calais, then travel to Paris and back to school. Her trip to Knockturn Alley had been fruitless and she had nothing to do to wile away the time except satiate her growing curiousity.

She knew she was being followed. She had spotted her stalker in the reflection of the glass – front cabinets at Borgin and Burkes, lurking in the aisles, though, in truth, she'd felt she was being watched almost immediately upon leaving the house. She was curious to know why and what he wanted from her, though, perhaps, she thought, she already knew. So she waited.

Kali looked around the pub and noticed the empty table where Professor Lupin sat only a short time ago holding hands with a dark – haired woman. She wondered briefly who she was, where he'd gone, and if he'd seen her, when a voice from behind her startled her out of her thoughts.

"Miss del Fuego, what an unexpected delight to see you."

It was her stalker. She turned, adjusting her features to convey surprise. Lucius Malfoy stood towering over her, a smile, rather more like a leer, spread across his pale, pointy face.

"Mr. Malfoy," she stated, nodding a hello.

"Please," he drawled, "call me Lucius. What brings you here?" he asked.

"Just getting a few things for school," she answered vaguely, looking up to meet his eyes.

"Would you join me for a spot of tea?" he asked, looking around at the half – empty room.

"I've a train to catch."

"Now?"

"Not for a few hours," she admitted, feigning reluctance.

"Then I insist," he said, and flagged down the barman who directed them to a private salon.

They were seated at a table by the fire, its burning embers slowly dying away. Malfoy ordered a pot of tea, and they were left alone. She removed her mother's cloak, heavy and damp from the snow. His eyes lingered over her tiny jumper, too tight around her chest, just long enough to make her feel uncomfortable. She hated being made to feel uncomfortable.

"Did you have a lovely holiday?"

A sudden urge seized her.

"That's not really what you want to ask me, is it?"

His face fell. "Excuse me?" he drawled.

"You want to make small talk?" she asked sarcastically.

"I'm observing the niceties of conversation." He retorted, obviously annoyed.

"You mean the bullshit."

His eyes narrowed, as if trying to size her up.

"You really are your mother's daughter, aren't you?" he said smugly.

"And what would you know about it?" It struck her that he mentioned her mother and not Celestia.

"More than you know," he answered silkily.

"Tell me," she said in challenge.

She caught him off guard, and a wall seemed to fall away from his eyes. It was a subtle change, but Kali could read it well and knew she was about to get some version of the truth – as much truth as a Death Eater could manage, anyhow.

"I was well acquainted with Dahlia," he said, "the last few years of her life." There was a sad note to his voice, though Kali doubted it was genuine. She became aware of the anger she'd felt toward him Christmas Eve as it rose up like a venomous snake. She wanted to make him squirm.

"She was your mistress, your whore?"

He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table, still managing to tower over her from a seated position, a haughty expression on his face. "I imagine it is quite distasteful for you to think of your mother involved with a married man, but I assure you, there was more to it than that. She was a confidante, a friend."

Why the hell is he telling me this?

"Next you'll tell me you loved her," she scoffed.

"In a fashion, yes, I did." She imagined he loved everyone 'in a fashion'.

"So, what am I to you, a potential replacement?" She looked him dead in the eyes. "Or am I the consolation prize?"

If that's what you want, look somewhere else, you bastard!

"You have quite a suspicious – and nasty – mind." He was stern, though there was a hint of awe in his tone.

"Like you said," she answered, leaning in to match his stance, "I am my mother's daughter."

"No, I would say you are more like your grandmother."

"Suspicious and nasty," she reiterated.

"Exactly," he answered her, without missing a beat.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, each observing the other with detached interest, as the barman entered and placed the teapot and two cups and saucers on the table between them.

"I want to show you something," he said when Tom left the room once more.

"What?" she asked tentatively.

What makes you think I want to see it?

"Come with me," he commanded as he stood and offered her his hand. The small voice in her head became louder.

Are you mad? He's a Death Eater!

She hesitated.

He's just like your father.

She took a sip of tea, trying to dampen the voice of reason.

He's just like Celestia.

It didn't work.

Run. Now!

"Will you come?" he asked, softening, his hand still outstretched.

Curiousity won out over reason. Rising slowly, she placed her small hand in his, and allowed herself to be lead out of room and to the Alley.

"I think it's best if we Apparate from here," he said, turning to her when they reached a deserted spot.

She looked at him uncertainly. "Where exactly are we going?" She felt the thrill of fear creeping up inside her.

"To the other side of town," he answered. "I assure you, you are safe with me."

Yeah, right.

"Shall we?"

She nodded and locked her arm with his. She immediately felt a pull at her navel, then the familiar squeeze. It was over instantly with a pop and she was standing in a large room – a sitting room.

She pulled away from him and looked around. The furnishings were draped with white linens and the curtains were pulled closed on the all the windows.

"This," he said, walking to the middle of the room, "was your mother's flat."

"Your love nest," she said sarcastically, realizing what it was.

He grimaced slightly, as if he found the description distasteful. "A refuge," he corrected.

She ignored him and instead, walked around the room, then down a tiny hall, opening each door as she went. Each room was draped in white and a thick layer of dust blanketed everything, telling her the flat had been uninhabited for a long time, probably since her mother died. She felt him trailing her and watching her openly.

"It's in there," he said, as she opened the last door. She was puzzled for a moment but realized what he meant when she stepped into the room. It was the master bedroom and everything was blanketed like the rest of the flat, save for a dresser. On it sat her mother's jewelry box, the one given to her by Celestia when she was a child. She walked up to it and ran her hands along the engraved wooden box, the familiar feel of the dips in the grain stirring up nostalgia. She stared at the lid, getting lost in the pattern.

"I know it's an heirloom," Lucius said behind her. She had almost forgotten he was there.

"Yes," she said softly, trying to hide her emotions. The box was more than that. It held secrets and though she didn't know what was hidden inside, she knew how to access them.

"It's yours," he whispered. He was standing close to her. She could feel his breathe on the top of her head.

Kali opened the box. The red velvet lining glittered with gold chains, silver bangles, diamonds and pearls. She smirked.

"Is this to replace what you've taken?" she asked, as she turned to face him, aware he had quietly slipped the box with the fleur De Lys necklace out of her pocket just before they Apparated.

He looked surprised and remained silent.

"Well?" she demanded.

He pulled the box slowly from his pocket and held it out. When she reached for it, he pulled it away.

Asshole.

His brows shot up, taken aback by the sudden appearance of the thought she'd forced into his head. "I did it for your own good," he said scornfully, obviously flustered. "Do you know who it's from?"

"Do you?" She shot back rudely. She was losing her patience and suddenly wanted to be gone from this place.

"I don't," he said firmly, "but I could help you find out who wants to control you."

"Excuse me?" she asked. It was her turn to be taken off guard.

"It's a dark object, my dear, used to control, subdue, dominate," he explained.

What the fuck?

She backed away instinctively but felt the dresser behind her.

Who the fuck would do that?

"I can assure you it wasn't me," he answered, as if reading her thoughts (though it was now impossible). The fear gripping her now had lost its thrill, leaving her shaken by the realization that someone had targeted her She was suddenly very aware that she was standing in a flat with a once -- and probably still -- vicious Death Eater. Alone.

He saw her tense and backed away, placing the box on the bed and sitting down at the foot of it.

"Someone obviously wants to hurt you, or use you somehow," he said in a cold, casual tone, as he surveyed his fingernails with interest.

Kali knew he was going to make her beg for help, a punishment for suspecting him (even though it was a logical conclusion) and for being flippant and rude (even though it was a natural reaction). She loathed the thought of it but knew if she wanted to find the culprit, she had no other choice. She swallowed hard and did the last thing she thought she'd ever do. She asked a Death Eater for help.

He looked up from his nails, his cold, gray eyes twinkling with a look of triumph. He stood and closed the distance between them.

"Of course, my dear," he said softly as he ran his fingers down her face and lifted her chin, "it would be my pleasure."

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Miles away, on the other side of London, Remus Lupin slumped back into the Leaky Cauldron, his heart heavy with disappointment. After losing Lucius Malfoy in the alley, he had made his way back to the pub when he spotted him once again, leading Kali by the hand. As they Disapparated, side – by –side, Remus cast a tracking spell, and Apparated a safe distance behind them. He then followed them to a non –descript apartment building and watched anxiously as the Death Eater lead Sirius' daughter up to a flat. He waited for a while, hoping she would come back out quickly – and alone – but as the minutes ticked by, hope dwindled. He finally gave it up as a bad job, and headed back to Diagon Alley to pass the time until the next train to France.

As he plopped himself onto a stool at the bar, his thoughts kept drifting back to Kali and what she might be doing, at that very moment, with a man as deplorable as Malfoy. He shuddered to think of the obvious but could not keep it from his mind. The infamous Del Fuego reputation and Cyrus McShane's words came back to him – 'she's earning it.' He thought about Sirius as a teenage boy, lead by his raging hormones and unfettered by his utter lack of morals, and came to the conclusion that her behaviour was inevitable.

She just can't help it.

It made him sad to think it, and even though he wasn't sure he believed it, the thought made it easier to bear.

As he sipped half – heartedly on a shot of firewhiskey, he tried to clear the images plaguing his mind.

"Remus?"

The familiar, cheery voice roused him from his mind. He turned around and came face – to – face with Hestia once more, but instead of feeling caught or trapped, another less familiar, wholly neglected feeling came over him. Without a word, he pulled her closer and kissed her passionately.

She giggled when he pulled away. "I thought you had a train to catch?" she asked, a look of mild confusion on her face.

"I did, but there's another one later," he lied, ignoring the barman's amused stares.

"How did you know I'd come back?" she asked naively.

A pang of guilt came and went, chased away by a bolder feeling.

"I hoped," he answered softly in her ear.

He needed desperately to numb the old, familiar pangs of pain and despair. He kissed her on her pink cheek and, still holding her close, whispered, "let's get a room."

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Yes, this was a long one. I got carried away with dialogue. I especially liked writing the stuff between Lucius Malfoy and my OC (there was so much more I cut out!)

I'm moving on with the next few months fairly quickly and then Sirius will poke his tortured head into the story, but not before throwing in a wrench or two...

Coming Soon - Chapter 9: (tentatively titled) A Tangled Web

Please take the time to review. Thanks!