A/N: In which Antares tries to deal with everything, and ends up dealing with nothing.

Chapter 2: The Second Problem

Antares didn't know if he'd ever felt this bewildered in his entire life. Even now, after forcing himself to eat something at the stiff, strange breakfast with Snape, he still felt confused. This wasn't how a holiday was supposed to go. Christmas had been because of the Cloak, and though the Cloak was here now, Antares hadn't been alarmed by anything this summer – anything, perhaps, apart from the fact that Wigtown seemed to be in the midst of a horrendous losing streak.

Antares sighed, forcing himself to focus on finding more parchment. Even with the embarrassment of listening to Wigtown go down to the abysmal Chudley Cannons, his summer had been fun up to this point, just like any holiday should have been. Holidays were supposed to be fun, not full of Incidents smack dab in the middle of them, not full of fear or disgust or any of the rest of it. It simply wasn't supposed to be this way, and that had been the only thing he could think of that hadn't changed in the last few hours.

Sadly, everything else thought it fit to whirl around him until he was dizzy. Antares still felt dizzy now, hours after the horrible scenes with Bella – all of them packed improbably into yesterday afternoon and yesterday evening. There was nothing else for him to feel but that strange sense of nothing being quite in its place – of the world bending away from him every time he tried to grab hold of it. Sitting down on his bed to write a new pair of his usual shaky, silly letters to Blaise and Tracey felt like the one thing that was constant this morning. And yet, though Antares had still gathered his tattered quill and half-empty bottle of ink and begun to unroll the roll of parchment he'd found, he could think of nothing to write.

Or, at least, nothing he wanted to write about.

Antares scowled, then grimaced. It just – how on earth would he be able to explain this to his friends? To anyone? Thinking of the few things Snape had bothered to say to him at breakfast this morning, Antares did realise now that one of them had been something about keeping it all secret, but he didn't give a bull's bollocks about that. He bloody needed to tell someone. Anyone. And though right now it looked hard, he wouldn't cower in the corner and stop trying just because Mum wanted him to.

So he dipped the nib of his quill in the precariously perched ink bottle, used his wand to slice off a respectable length of parchment for the first letter, and began.

Dear Blaise, Antares wrote quickly, I was glad to hear you didn't go to those stupid balls – I knew you'd have hated it. You asked about my Summer, right? Well, let me tell you to be honest it's going to the dogs, because… There, Antares stopped. How to go on from there, he didn't know. Crossing out that sentence, he tried to write it again – perhaps it would be easier if he was more direct – Well, it's crap now. Snape Bella is being –

No. Bloody no, that just sounded silly – she wasn't being anything except irritating and ignoring Antares and anyway –

He didn't want that in his letter. Rubbing furiously at his watering eyes, Antares cut off the top part of the letter and crumpled it off. He'd just start again, in a minute. Yeah. It was hard, but he could do it, he knew he could.

Hard my arse, Antares thought ten minutes later, scratching furiously at his hair as he tried to get past the new introduction of his letter, this is – this is bloody IMPOSSIBLE!

And it was. Really, how was he supposed to say it?

"Dear Blaise," Antares said, out loud, because it was just so silly, "my – Mum and Snape are shagging." Antares paused – that was just so wrong, so – maybe another – "Blaise, I just – I think it's likely that…Professor Snape is fucking my mum."

In a minute, Antares was tearing the letters to pieces with more anger than he thought he had in himself, and fighting the impulse to burn the shreds. What was he thinking, trying to tell anyone? No one would ever understand, so no one would know. He'd hidden things before – he was still hiding things. The fact that he could speak to snakes, for one.

He reared off the bed, trying hard to suppress the thought that Bella might not have meant everything she'd said to him about that – it had felt marvellous not to have her stare at him in fear and demand that he be tested to see that he wasn't hearing voices of his own volition. But now, after everything, he couldn't help but think –

No. Antares threw the torn bits of parchment into the bin, harder than he needed to, as if they were the poisonous thoughts biting him everywhere now. He took a moment to encourage them to shift well towards the particularly forgetful part of his mind, and had just about accomplished it when he suddenly remembered that this was another problem. And, after a moment, Antares realised that he had no intention of talking to his mother about Occlumency, whatever happened.

Antares' shoulders drooped. Was he a liar, then – just like Bella? Just like her? Climbing into his bed did not comfort him, and neither did the act of shoving his hastily closed ink bottle into the open drawer of his shabby bedside table. Jamming himself against the headboard, Antares finally let his shoulders drop and let his head fall into his hands, feeling like the frustration of it all would pull him apart. God, he felt so fucking selfish feeling like this, but how else was he – how else could he feel? Despite the way Bella's apology had felt earlier on, all he could feel when he thought of his one big secret from her was satisfaction. Triumph. She bloody well thought she held all the cards, even when she didn't – like any other adult, really. Just trying to control –

But no. She said she loved me…

Really, the sarcastic part of him said, deep within his mind. Enough to hide the fact of her fucking Snape from you? Enough to not listen to you about those spells?

Antares exhaled, trying to flush out the resentment in him and failing. Morgana, but he was ungrateful. She was out there picking up a frigging broom catalogue for him, for God's sake! If only I could just – why couldn't I just –

But no, again. No. Antares shook his head decisively to himself, not caring whether he looked silly. It was only fair, really – wasn't it? She never wanted him to know anything, did she? Merlin, the way she'd looked at him down in the garden, like he was sprouting – like he was sprouting Killing Curses from his hands. Like he was so different to what she expected that she wanted to exchange him for someone else.

Like she didn't want him to be like her. Antares took a deep breath, wrestling with that thought as he'd wrestled with it then. That, Antares thought, I will never understand. He truly didn't – Bella was so strong, so self-assured, so composed…was it wrong that Antares wanted to be like her? To gain a reputation of being not someone to be messed with? It wasn't like he was going to join some Dark Lord or anything – the Dark Lord hadn't come back yet, and despite all Bella's warnings and narrowed looks, Antares was inclined to think that that wouldn't be happening anytime soon. If ever – if the Dark Lord went around picking idiots like Quirrell to do his dirty work, his return looked even less likely, in Antares' opinion. Which meant no one would be interested in comparing the mad bastard's locking spells with Antares' own.

Which, by extension, meant Antares would be fine using whatever spells he liked, whether his mother liked it or not. Antares straightened slowly, running the decision over in his mind. While he didn't like disobeying Bella so directly, there were just times when to do so was far more convenient than to stay in the large box of rules Bella had built up for his education and safety.

Besides, surrendering Occlumency would mean surrendering the Cloak, and Antares was just not prepared to do that, ever, to anyone.

Especially to his mum, when she'd been lying to him for – he didn't even know how long.

Scowling, Antares gathered up the remaining parchment and directed it over to his trunk with a slow, careful wave of his wand. As always, he felt a flash of pride; he'd gotten really good at levitating things, practicing as he did all the time. It made him wonder whether levitation and Summoning Charms were similar somehow, and made him automatically try to levitate something with just his hands. It didn't work – his battered quill stayed firmly where it was on his duvet no matter how much he concentrated or anything, and it wasn't until Antares gave into the impulse and just called it to him instead that it moved, fluttering into his hand.

Frowning, Antares set it back on the bed. Maybe I'm not trying hard enough, or have to say something out loud…

The morning seemed to flash by Antares then, as he sat on his bed and tried not to shout at the stupid feather that wasn't bloody moving when he tried to levitate it on his own, without a wand. Well, it moved a little – sort of shifted around on the duvet, as if something was tugging at it, but that wasn't what he wanted –

"Wingardium Levi-bloody-osa!" Antares yelled for what seemed like the thousandth time, wanting to hit something. The door opened abruptly, and it made him jump and reach for his wand just as the quill shot into the –

Antares froze, and though he would have desperately liked to fling some sort of insult at Snape's ugly face as he poked his greasy head round the door, he was far too absorbed in keeping the quivering object floating in the air.

"What are you –"

"Shut up!" Antares hissed, but it was too late. The quill fell abruptly to the bed, and Antares' desire to hit something began to feel like an overpowering need. "What the fuck do you want?"

Snape didn't seem to be listening to him, just staring at the quill where it lay on the bed, bent and scratched as it had ever been. "What – were you doing that wandlessly?"

"None of your business," Antares said, sliding off the bed, wanting the greasy, lecherous bastard out of his room. "Get out."

Snape just gave him a derisive look, as he'd feared. "Don't be ridiculous," he said calmly. "This is my house."

"And my mum's paying for it, is she?" Antares snarled. "You're just using her, aren't you?"

"Don't be any more foolish than you already are, boy," Snape said coolly. Dangerously. "We both know that your mother is the last person –"

"Not if she was under the Imperius!" Antares burst out, his hands positively itching to wrap around Snape's disgusting greasy neck. He knew it was stupid, but it – it just didn't – Snape was so ugly! Mum never went for that kind of bloke –

"Oh, yes," Snape said, almost companionably, now practically gliding into the room. "Makes perfect sense, doesn't it? I'd risk my position at Hogwarts – my very freedom, in fact, just to have one woman under my control," he continued, his tone scathing. "And of course I wouldn't bother to put you under it as well, despite the security risk –"

"You –"

"Do not insult me by suggesting such a farce again," Snape spat, advancing on Antares in a way that meant consequences if he was not obeyed. "Your mother is not a fool, and I am not desperate enough to risk an Unforgivable for the sake of my cock! Suggest such a thing again, and I will make you wish I'd committed such gross acts of stupidity." Antares glared at him, refusing to back down in that, at least. "Is that clear?"

Antares didn't want to, but he forced the words out anyway. "Yes, sir."

Snape gave him a poisonous look at that, but instead of leaving, returned his attention to the quill that still lay on Antares' bed. "Now, I asked you a question –"

"One that's none of your business," Antares said, as calmly as he could. "I'll do what I like with my property –"

"And wandless magic, they say, is the sign of a Dark wizard," Snape said, quietly. "So you will tell me why you were actively performing it, or you will know the reason why." There was a clear threat in those words, and one that Antares knew he dared not challenge.

Antares looked away. "That stuff about wandless stuff being Dark," he said, hating himself for complying, "it's all rot. I've been doing it since I was – what, five, six? If anything, they should teach people to start early on, it's dead useful."

"Your wandless stuff," Snape said derisively, "was not what you just performed; I saw it. Or do you wish to accuse me of being blind as well as stupid?" Antares kept his gaze on the ground, not understanding why on earth the man was just badgering on and on and on about this – "Speak up, boy – tell me what you were doing!"

"It was just levitation!" Antares exclaimed, feeling curiously cornered as he did so, with the way Snape was looming over him now. "I – I was just trying, that's all, I didn't mean –"

"What were you trying?"

"The Levitation Charm is a Charm, just like the Summoning one," Antares said slowly, starting to feel exasperated. What was so hard about understanding that? "I just – they're similar, I thought I could do them both without a wand, that's all." Antares shot Snape a glare, irritated at how the man was beginning to pace, as if it was some huge problem, him practicing wandless magic. "Bet you can't do them both –"

Somehow, that stopped Snape in place; it actually silenced him, like nothing else had. Snape gave him a long, considering look – one well-laden with the sort of piercing Legilimency Antares did not try to even defend himself against. The familiar feeling of his thoughts being touched on ended quickly, but Snape's gaze did not.

"I cannot do them both," Snape said slowly. "You are correct."

Somehow, the soft, thoughtful quiet of that statement took away Antares' vindictive pleasure at the actual words. He looked down at his hands, wanting to stop seeing those eyes on him, wanting to stop seeing that calculating gaze –

"It is very…strange," Snape said, finally. He began to move toward the door. "Inform me if you continue to succeed."

"And Mum?" Antares prompted sullenly, not quite sure why he was asking. Or what.

Snape's eyes glittered strangely. "Of course." When he shut the door behind him, Antares reached for the comforting warmth of his wand, wishing he'd come off better in their argument, but knowing it was probably inevitable that he lose.

Scowling, Antares poked hard at the quill – he faintly remembered Bella saying she liked that unwillingness to back down in a man, once, to that old woman they'd kept visiting every year. "They have to have something…extra," Bella had said decisively. "Definitely. I mean, how could I endure a weakling?" Antares remembered listening, remembered running through the short list of men she'd ever seemed to take a liking to, remembered thinking decisively that they must all have been weaklings, for his mother to let them go. God, he remembered agreeing – there'd been one particular person that Bella had been able to drive off forever with just a look. That certainly wasn't Snape – if anything, Antares thought he was too strong.

It only took a moment to have it, but the realisation that his mother might have a valid reason to – to fuck Snape, of all people, was the most disgusting thing he'd ever thought, and he soon buried it deep in his mind, with only one or two threads of association clinging feebly to it.

"Wingardium Leviosa," Antares snapped at the quill, then, just for something else to bloody think about, and he was shocked to see it rise jerkily into the air. He soon forgot the ugly truth that he'd buried inside himself, and lost himself in the demanding pursuit of extending his hold on the quill to more than just a few seconds of it hovering above the bed.

Antares scowled, but could not look away. Why on earth had he chosen to come down at this particular moment, anyway? There was nothing here that he remotely wanted to see, nothing – nothing except Snape slobbering all over his mum like he was a dog and she a bone. It was disgusting, and even more so because Antares could nearly not look away from it. Angry at it all, he finally stamped down the stairs, pushing rudely past them both and banging into the kitchen, where he began to serve their cooling dinner, feeling angrier when he realised that Snape had probably made it.

No, Antares thought snidely, watching his mother quirk a smile at the bastard, that Severus made it. He looked away when Bella passed closely beside him, and tried not to flinch when she ruffled his hair with the same hand that she might have been touching 'Severus' with. When Antares thought of where exactly his mum might have been touching that – that bastard, he wanted to be sick.

"Antares?" Bella called out, oblivious to the narrow glare Antares could not help but exchange with Snape. "I – I think I left the catalogue on one of the side tables in the living room. Fetch it, will you?"

"Accio," Antares said, defiantly, reaching for it with a single-minded determination, not caring the way his mother's face fell as he did so. There was no way that he was going to leave them alone, not in here. Morgana knew what they'd do – start touching each other, and then kiss, and maybe try to ruffle his hair again with sticky, disgusting hands. The catalogue thudded firmly into Antares' hands, and he could very nearly not keep himself from slamming it down onto the kitchen table.

"Antares –"

"You said to fetch it, Mum, didn't you?" Antares said, his tone perilously close to sweet. "This way…it saves time, doesn't it?"

Bella sighed, rising up from the seat which she'd sunk into after retrieving a glass from one of the cupboards. "Just…" she trailed off into another side. "About that catalogue – if you want something new, we'll only be able to afford something of lower quality, which probably won't give you as much speed as you like –"

"They actually have a used section?" Antares said, surprise warring with anger within him. She was ignoring it, obviously, just pretending like he hadn't Summoned the thing on purpose – "I only ever saw new stuff in there."

"It's order only," Bella said quietly, coming over to gently take the catalogue from him. Minutes later, she'd flipped it open to the correct page. "I got the impression that they wouldn't have told me if I hadn't insisted, but…"

"God, there are used Nimbus 2000s out already?" Antares said, interrupting on purpose. Bella turned away, still ignoring him.

"I'm not sure where they get their stock," she said, pausing to thank 'Severus' as he set a plate before her with the most sickeningly soft look on his face. "But I'm sure they're reputable – if they aren't, we can always go to the modifications shop in Knockturn."

"Boy, leave that and sit down to eat," Snape said, and then Antares had to obey, as Bella was giving him a hard look, as if it wasn't just about her making him sit down. "And don't think I've forgotten about your little escapade in your room – tell her, now."

"Severus, please," Bella said, a little uselessly, because the next moment she'd turned to Antares and was eyeing him speculatively, and there was nothing for it but to tell her about what he'd been doing almost all day. When asked for a demonstration, Antares fought back a sneer and instead levitated Snape's plate almost into his face, pretending shock when some food spilled on him.

Unfortunately, Snape didn't even seem to care. "I saw him levitating a quill, this morning –some time after you'd left," he said, sounding almost – almost excited. "And now –"

"– he's levitating plates," Bella said, looking terribly astonished. "My goodness! I know he's always been a quick study, but –"

"Would you mind not talking about me like I'm not here?" Antares said, through gritted teeth. "And anyway, it's not like he helped – he just stood there and told me people think wandless magic is Dark, and everything."

Bella exchanged a look with Snape. "Well, it is considered Dark, but mostly because the wizards famed for it were mostly of that leaning," she said carefully. "It just means – learning it so quickly – I'm not exactly sure, but it should indicate that you'll be powerful, when you grow –"

That surprised Antares, enough that he couldn't stop himself from saying, in a maliciously innocent tone, "More than Severus, then?"

Bella gave him a look. "It's hard to tell," she said coolly, exchanging a glance with Snape, who was now glaring at Antares. "Just make sure you don't do it in front of –"

"Mum, I'm not stupid!"

"Then it fails me to think why you've been behaving like that all dinner," Bella snapped, setting her cutlery down with a nervous, angry movement. "I don't know how many times I have to tell you –"

"Then stop telling me!" Antares shoved himself away from the table so hard that his hands hurt, and made to pick up his plate so he could take it into the sink and just go, but Bella's voice stopped him.

"Antares, stop this. For goodness' sake, we're a family –"

"Not with him," Antares spat, pointing to Severus. When Bella made to rise, looking almost as agitated as she'd been last night, Antares shot up and bolted, slamming the door behind him. Once in his room, it was hard to keep himself from shouting the locking spell at his door again, but he knew Bella would hear again, and it would just make her more unhappy.

Instead, Antares got into his bed and burrowed down under the covers, after searching frantically for the Invisibility Cloak and stuffing it into his pockets. Whatever happened, he was keeping it, all right? Whatever happened.

It didn't take long for him to have to pretend he wasn't crying.


Days passed, Antares' anger only growing with each one as his mother made increasingly little effort to keep her activities with Snape hidden. Antares spent each day up in his room practising needlessly, sometimes choosing to ignore Bella's suggestions that they go on with their lessons, sometimes forced to stand about and try to hex her because she was too fed up to leave him alone that particular time. Snape kept tabs on him mercilessly, constantly making snide comments about Antares' wand work and wandless work, and occasionally telling him he was being a fool about everything.

Antares scowled, knowing the bastard would say something to that effect when he found out that Antares hadn't bothered to show Bella his most recent letter from Hogwarts. He didn't care – he just wanted to make life as difficult for his mum as she was making it for him daily, and he knew the added stress of scrambling to buy school things would add to it. Not that he actually wouldn't mind forgetting about half the purchases on the list – nearly all of the books were by Gilderoy Lockhart, whom Antares had only heard of in conjunction to Witch Weekly's many useless contests. Antares would rather buy fifty kneazles than spend a Knut on such nonsense (just looking at the titles was enough – Year with the Yeti, honestly), and anyway he was far more interested in using some of the money he'd saved by not buying new stuff last year for a better cause: his new broom.

Aside from thinking up horrid insults he would probably never say to Snape's face, Antares had recently occupied himself in weighing the features and pricing of every broom within his means in the now slightly battered Quality Quidditch catalogue. That was what he was doing now – at the moment, he was scrutinising every feature of a lightly used Comet 260 on offer and wishing half-heartedly that he had Blaise to decipher some of them for him. A lot of the features made sense, but the others? He snorted – it was all, "uplift enhanced, 1987…tracking modified, 1970-71…braking failed, re-engineered 1989…balancing mechanism recalibrated, 1990…" –it was ridiculous! If only he could write to Blaise…

Antares shifted guiltily in his seat, at that. He hadn't written to Blaise in a bit, or to Tracey – the whole conflict with Snape and Mum had killed any desire to do so, really. Tracey, at least, would have sensed that something was wrong probably just from looking at his handwriting, and she'd have Floo called Blaise about that faster than anything, and then he'd have had both of them on his back when he finally got to school, or maybe even earlier, if he met them on a trip to Diagon Alley. It was useless, all of this, Antares thought angrily, shutting the catalogue. Why couldn't anything be simple, just for once?

"Up already?" His mother's tired voice startled him, nearly out of his seat. Antares kept his eyes on the catalogue, guilt freezing him as he noted the weariness in her expression and posture, as she came up behind him, bending to read over his shoulder as if they hadn't been shouting at each other half last night. "Oh my goodness, I still didn't remember this," Bella said, interrupting Antares' thought stream by carelessly catching up the catalogue. "Antares, you should have reminded me! I've been meaning to sort this out for a week, now," she murmured, seemingly oblivious to the way Antares was fidgeting guiltily, now. "We'll need to go down there today, then – I've the day off from Malkin Malkin, so we can get your school things together…"

Antares gulped. "Er – mum, about that –"

Bella's smile did more to cut him off than the finger she put to his lips. "Now, Antares, I know you didn't want to bother me about them since things are so busy at Malkin's, now, but they are important – I appreciate your not saying anything about them, but I'd rather you told me next time, all right?"

Bella's tone was soft, fond, as if Antares had really done something like that. With a jolt, Antares suddenly realised who had probably brought this about, who had been in and out of his room constantly all week. The thought that Snape might have covered up for him made him feel even more painfully guilty as Bella reached down to give his shoulder a squeeze and set about searching for something to eat. How on earth had he been stupid enough to leave the school letter lying about in his room? Surely Snape had eventually seen it. Now he just knew the bastard would come up and give him another one of those 'talks', black eyes skewering him mercilessly all the way through.

It was all Antares could do to stand up and help, then, especially when Snape appeared just minutes after Bella had relinquished control of the pan to Antares, looking thoroughly dishevelled, and sporting what, to Antares' horror, looked like a bite mark on his neck. As Antares was processing that horror, another – an indecently long morning kiss – was perpetrated right behind him, complete with disgusting murmuring that he couldn't hear. Antares gritted his teeth and jabbed at the bacon in the pan, imagining he was far older and far stronger, and that it was Snape's ugly head he was hitting with something.

Somehow, though, it didn't make him feel any better. If Antares wasn't able to keep Snape from mucking up his plans now, when was he ever going to be strong enough to kick him out of Bella's life?

"Hurry up, will you, Dalwell?" Bella snapped. "For goodness' sake, I don't bite –"

Antares sighed. He and Mum were currently in the apothecary next to Borgin and Burke's, where she was proceeding to frighten the hell out of a rather tired-looking Tim for what seemed, to Antares, like no reason at all. Honestly, he'd just dragged his feet a bit, just to look in at Borgin's like he always did, and upon commenting that he could see Draco Malfoy in the shop, had nearly had his arm dragged out of his socket as Bella whisked him off into the apothecary. Now, Bella was bristling with some emotion that Antares did not want to acknowledge, and it made her snappish, enough that Tim, the clerk, looked enormously relieved to see the back of them when they left, Antares clutching his old cauldron closely and trying to keep up with his mum's swift pace.

As soon as they stepped into Diagon Alley, Bella was at it again, dragging him sideways into the Magical Menagerie without so much as a by-your-leave, then shunting him down towards the snake section, her eyes on the street outside them. It didn't take a moment for Antares to realise that he was face-to-face with the one thing he didn't want to think about at that moment, and even less time to realise that he didn't have a say in whether or not he could just move to another section. For Bella was right next to him, pressed heedlessly between two rat cages so that she could see out of the window they were stacked in front of. Antares' heart sank.

For a minute, he tried uselessly to convince himself that he could squeeze past his mother (who seemed to have turned to stone, so intent was she on whatever she was looking for). Antares soon gave up that train of thought, his only concession to action being to fidget carefully in place (he didn't want to touch the cages, thanks – much less touch one of the snakes) and mutter inwardly to himself about why on earth so many unfairly strange things happened to him.

Because, Antares thought, with a gulp, the snakes were waking u –

I'm so cramped, one said, from a tiny cage near the top. These humans, so smelly –

Yess, the snakes all hissed, making Antares jump. Smelly.

It's frankly keeping me awake, a rather large one said from behind him, its yellow coils making a dry, slithering sound as they moved over one another. This one is smellier, too.

I'm not, Antares almost said, indignantly, before he realised what he was doing. The clerk on duty was eyeing him sympathetically as he fought the urge to turn round and round, so fast were the short, confusing conversations going.

"Scared of snakes, young sir?" she asked lowly. "Don't feel too bad – I've been here a year, can't stand them myself –"

Look! She! Is she feeding us? the snakes exclaimed. They all began to slither close to the front of their cages, some of them eyeing Antares with interest as he somehow found himself shaking his head. Though he tried to ignore it, the desire to tell them to shut up and calm down was unnervingly strong, because wasn't it obvious that 'She' wasn't carrying anything? Antares felt his mouth open, the desire was so strong, but he immediately made himself shut it, ignoring how all the snakes were now staring at him and insulting the way he wasn't doing anything.

"Antares, come," Bella ordered, suddenly, and Antares was only too glad to edge away, before he did something very stupid. "So sorry, Heidi – we're trying to surprise someone, that's all –" And after a few slightly tense words about birthdays and the problem of what to give a man for one, Bella was hustling them out onto the street and straight to the right. Antares didn't even have a moment to ask anything before they were darting into Madam Malkin's, which was busy with students and their parents. Bella kept her head low, which worried Antares – what was she so afraid of? This was her workplace – he didn't understand –

"Bella? 'S that you?" A tallish, nervous-looking girl that seemed to be one of the staff had spotted them, and was coming their way. "Thought you were on –"

"Minnie, I'm so sorry – I need to make an urgent Floo call, and I couldn't think –"

The girl's bewilderment immediately turned to sympathy while Antares' bewilderment remained resolutely intact. "Oh, sorry, of course, it's all right –"

"Antares?" Bella suddenly said, conversationally, as Minnie began to lead them toward what Antares thought must be the back of the shop. "Would you mind terribly if you went on to the bookshop without me?"

"What? But you said I wasn't to –"

"Not that one, dear," Bella said sharply, nodding with gratefulness at Minnie, who actually winked at her as she left them in a tiny room with a hearth and a pot of Floo powder and what seemed like a hundred mannequins. "Flourish and Blott's – here, take this –"

Antares' confusion grew as Bella took his cauldron from him, setting it down on the floor with a hasty thump, which made the mannequins squeal and knock into each other in their haste to get away from it. Bella, however, didn't bat an eye at them, now rummaging through her robe pockets as if that were the most important thing in the world. It was at that point that Antares began to worry – she'd never failed to be distracted and irritated by the horrid, squealing squirmy mannequins before, and right now they were at their squirmiest.

Bella soon found what she was looking for, and drew it out, confusing Antares further. Wasn't that their Gringotts – "Antares, did you hear me? Take this," she said, cramming what felt like far too many Galleons into his hand, "and go in to Flourish and Blott's."

Antares stared at her. Was she mad? "But Mum, their prices," he tried to say, unwilling to pocket the money, especially when he saw his mother heft the remaining money in the bag in one hand, her eyes far away. "If you need to make a call, I can always go down to the Knockturn bookshop on my own –"

At that she seemed to snap back to life. "Absolutely not," Bella said decisively. "Look, I can't send you down to Knockturn on your own, you know that –"

Antares tried not to stare down at the coins in his hand. Why was she being so paranoid today? "Mum, we were in Knockturn just minutes ago! I don't see –"

"Lucius Malfoy was in Borgin's, Antares, didn't you see him?" Bella whispered furiously, her sharp words filling Antares with fear and dismay. He remembered seeing someone with pale hair in Borgin's, now, but he hadn't thought to connect it then – "And I – if we'd stayed a moment extra on the street, he might have seen us –"

Antares paled. Then why on earth was she trying to send him to Flourish and Blott's, for goodness' sake, when they were in danger? "Shouldn't we be going home…?"

"Not until you've gotten your books, young man," Bella said, determination sharp and hard on her face as she pulled deftly on the drawstring of the moneybag to close it. "I simply won't have time before you start term, and owl order is expensive," she continued, bending down to embrace him fiercely. "Just – just keep your head down, and stay away from Lucius if you see him, though I doubt he'll be in Flourish already when I saw him head down into the Leaky Cauldron."

"From the Menagerie?" Antares asked, confused – he'd never been able to see as far as the Leaky from there – "But –"

"There are ways of watching, Antares," Bella whispered into his ear. She straightened after a minute, her movements reluctant. "If we're lucky, the bastard's already gone – I saw his son beside him, at any rate, so it's likely," she said, beginning to pace the tiny space in small, quick steps. "I nearly don't want to send you, but there was a crowd outside Flourish. You won't be spotted in there if you're careful, and I know you are." Bella said the last bit fiercely, enough that Antares' heart swelled with pride. "Just – keep your head down, and if you're not sure of something, or if you see the Malfoys, just leave."

"I know, Mum," Antares said quietly, his heart squeezing tight with fear and anticipation. "I'll be careful."

"Good," Bella said, looking a lot like she didn't want him going at all, but had no choice but to let him. "Come quickly, will you? If you're not back in twenty minutes –"

"– you'll come after me," Antares finished. He began stuffing the money in his pockets as well as he could, given that his hand was shaking. "I'll be fine, Mum."

"If you see him, just leave – do you understand?" Bella's face was flushed with what looked frighteningly like fear, but her tone was stern. Determined. "Come back to me."

Antares nodded again, and was standing outside on the street before he'd even thought about what he was doing. He moved quickly, careful to make his stride carefree as he approached Flourish and Blott's, which, as Bella had said, was crowded.

Crammed is more like it, Antares thought irritably, as he shoved his way inside. It was packed bizarrely tight, and there seemed to be an excited witch everywhere Antares turned. It was with difficulty that he got to the used section, peering over his shoulder as he did for the slightest sign of pale hair, but he was soon too busy browsing to look. He doubted, anyway, that someone would spot him in all this crush; there were that many people in the bookshop that it was difficult to get at the books, much less the people. Although there weren't half as many people patronising the used section – it was just Antares, four or five witches, and a red-haired girl that looked as if she might be shorter than him, frowning at two books that she seemed to be comparing. As Antares drew closer, he realised she was holding The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1 – or was holding two copies of it, anyway – and therefore must be somewhere near where the –

Ah. Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2. Antares snagged three copies off the shelf and examined them closely before choosing the second one he'd taken. As he re-shelved them, he glanced quickly at his list, wanting to know what was – oh, of course, the Lockhart books. He'd seen a lot of them out on display as he'd entered the shop, for some reason – no idea why anyone would voluntarily buy that sort of shite. Antares sighed and got to looking for them anyway, half-hoping there wouldn't be any of them here in the used section.

Unluckily for him, it didn't take long to find a rather large section of the used copies of what looked like everything Lockhart had ever published. But after a minute of thumbing through Travels with Trolls, Antares could see that Lockhart's stuff wasn't worth the few Sickles it would probably sell for here, much less the Galleons Flourish and Blott's would charge for the new, unused copies. It was all nonsense about how Lockhart had single-handedly tracked and taken down some sort of Troll tribe – nonsense that seemed even more nonsensical when Antares thought back to his own rather scary battle with a mountain Troll in first year. There hadn't been any "piteous screams of anguish", "drawn out wails of surrender" or any sort of begging at all, and no amount of scrutinising Lockhart's stupid blond curls or squinting at the improbably descriptions could make Antares understand how the man had won his dubious victory. Giving up, Antares glared at the author, a blond, supremely irritating man, before shoving the book back where it belonged, taking delight in the fist the picture shook at him as he crumpled the binding.

A half-hearted browse through the rest of Lockhart's 'collection' left Antares only more determined not to buy any of his rubbish, so, hefting what looked to be his only purchase in one hand, Antares began comparing the excuses he could use when Bella asked him about the swathe of books he hadn't bought. He also began to head out of the used section, stopping occasionally to eye something that looked interesting. He was just forcing himself to move after staring for longer than was healthy at a horribly tantalizing book on duelling without wands when someone bumped into him, shaking him out of his thoughts.

It was the girl. "Excuse me," she said, a little pointedly, almost like it'd been his fault, when he could see she was so laden down with books that she couldn't see around them.

"Excuse you," he snapped, scowling at her. "Maybe you'd look where you're going if you weren't buried in that pile – that copy's missing a few pages, by the way, I'd bin that if I were you –"

"Really?" she said, scowling back, but Antares noticed that when he made to turn away, she dropped the copy he indicated. Antares rolled his eyes, giving the row of books by Lockhart no more than a cursory glance before he left the used section. Bella wouldn't thank him for spending money on books that were so obviously bad, he knew that – he'd just borrow one from the library if he desperately needed one, or something.

Closing his eyes momentarily, Antares sighed. It wasn't the best of excuses, but it would do; at least he also had a way around being punished for not having the bloody books. He crumpled the school list into his pocket and headed for the cashier with a will, cursing at the way the crowd got thicker as he got closer to the frazzled-looking young man that was handling it all. By the time he'd reached the cashier, Antares was more than ready to be gone, enough that he didn't even bat an eye when he was told that there was no time to shrink his purchase down.

"Fair enough," Antares said, taking the receipt with a shrug. "You look busy enough as it is, anyway." The cashier shot him a look of understanding, then called out for the next customer, who made fair to shove Antares to the floor in their hurry to be attended to. To Antares' dismay, the book shot out of his hand, landing somewhere to his left with a thump and – and a squeal?

God, did it hit someone? Antares shoved blindly, trying to get to where he'd heard the squeal, but that only resulted in him colliding with what felt like a pile of books. Antares groaned inwardly as the books scattered – his luck just seemed to get worse and worse and –

"Just what the hell is your problem, eh?" someone said fiercely. Someone red-haired. Someone that looked like the girl from – ah, shite. The girl from the used section shot a glare at him as she huffily began to recover her books. Antares set to helping her immediately, ignoring the grumbling she was still doing. He knew he didn't have to, but quickly realised from the titles of the books still strewn about them that she was probably a first year, and therefore someone likely to be sorted into his house.

"Look, I'm sorry," he forced himself to say, handing her a somehow shrunken-looking copy of Travels with Trolls. The girl sniffed, but Antares kept on anyway – goodness knew he didn't want anyone bearing him grudges even before term started. "I was rushing – some idiot knocked my book from my hands, I was just trying to get it back." Antares straightened, lingering momentarily over A History of Magic – the book she'd replaced. Despite knowing that it would annoy her, he found himself unable to resist adding, "I see you replaced this – this copy's certainly far better –"

"Didn't replace it because of you," the girl muttered, reddening in embarrassment. Antares shrugged, keeping an involuntary grin to himself. God, she's just like Blaise… He handed the book over, and tried not to grin as she snatched it from him – again, just like Blaise. It was eerie, honestly. The glare she gave him now, though, didn't seem like Blaise at all. "What are you looking at?"

"Nothing," Antares said blandly, looking around them. There weren't any books left lying on the floor, so… "I'll just be off, then. By the way, don't bother asking the clerk to shrink them down, he'll just say no."

She sniffed. "That's obvious, he's really busy! I'm not stupid –"

"Didn't say you were," Antares said, rolling his eyes. Blaise under Polyjuice! No, really! It was hard not to smile, at the thought, but he managed it, keeping a straight face as he began to turn away from her. "Good luck at sorting, then." Ignoring the way her eyes widened at that – well, she's a bit clueless, isn't she? It's bloody obvious she's a first year, with those books – Antares set off, now starting to hope she'd be in his house. Honestly, it would be worth it, just to see her and Blaise jockey it out. Then again, she did seem a bit stupider than Blaise – a little less quick on the uptake, maybe. But maybe that was because she was younger – god knew Blaise and even Tracey had been a pain in the arse like that, at times –

"Hey, you! Black!" Antares jumped. God, please let that not be Draco –

But Antares' luck, it seemed, had run out, for there was Draco, face red with anger, holding Antares' new book up in his hand like a trophy. "I should've bloody known," he spat, squeezing around a fat old woman that was dithering over another pile of books by Lockhart. "Some people never get to respect their betters –"

"And some people don't know when to shut up and realise that accidents can and do happen," Antares snapped, trying to grab hold of his book and failing. "Even if the accidents are the kind that'll knock some sense into someone's empty little head –"

"Take that back," Draco demanded, holding the book steadily out of his reach. "Do it, or I'll tear this –"

"You'll tear a book with an Anti-Tear charm on, will you?" Antares replied boldly, knowing his lie would give Draco pause. It did, and in the next moment Antares had seized hold of the book, and was manfully trying to tug it out of Draco's grasping, furious hands. "Go buy your own book, Draco!"

Draco nearly lost hold of the book at that. "Why, is this one even yours?" he snapped, scratching at Antares' hands as he scrabbled for purchase. "Bet you stole it –"

"Did not –"

"You did! Theif, thief –"

"Shut up!" Antares shouted, finally wresting the tattered book from Draco's hands. But it was too late – the old woman next to them had fixed her beady eye on him, and looked fair to take up the cry, which Draco was repeating as loud as he could.

"Thief, thief, THIEF–"

Antares tried to scramble away, but was shoved back towards Draco by the interfering old woman. "Shut up or I'll make you, Malfoy!" he hissed desperately, trying to edge away. By now, more and more people were taking notice of them, and Antares really began to panic – wasn't that one of the shop clerks, heading this way? God, but he wanted to strangle Draco – "I have a receipt," Antares tried to say, as the old woman seized hold of him and tried to pry the book from his hand. "Look you – that's mine!"

"See here, what on earth is going on?" someone said loudly from somewhere on Antares' left. A fairly strong hand extracted the book from Antares' hand, then, leaving him to struggle angrily with the irritating old woman that was still holding him by the arms. "Draco, stop that boorish shouting this minute!"

Draco stopped. Antares felt the first whisper of fear in his heart – who could talk to Draco like that, and actually make him listen?

The old woman released Antares then, and he soon had the answer.

"You there – clerk! Hurry up – my son says this boy," the blond man's haughty gaze barely even landed on Antares, as if he was too filthy to take notice of, "is a thief."

The hair. The eyes. It was Mr. Malfoy – had to be, as he'd just said he was Draco's dad – and he was looming over Antares, his wand in his right hand, as if Antares was actually the sort of dangerous criminal that would need a wand trained on him. Antares' heart, for a long moment, seemed to stop beating. God, Bella would kill him –

"You there, boy," someone said from behind him. Antares turned, feigning anger – anything less would mark him guilty, he just knew it – "Do you have a receipt for this item?" Antares suddenly realised he was speaking to the cashier he'd paid to, at the counter, and that the man sounded weary.

Morgana be praised, Antares thought fervently to himself, choosing not to answer as he rummaged in his pockets for the receipt, giving every appearance of fury. "Of course I do! Draco's lying; he's always trying to get me in trouble –"

A cold hand seized hold of his shoulder, forcing him to turn about. "Excuse me?" Mr. Malfoy's cold eyes stared him down, and for a moment, Antares' tongue was literally still with fear.

Somehow, though, he made himself answer, using strength he didn't even recognise to shake his shoulder out of the older man's grip. "Excuse you, sir, but I was talking about your son. He tried to take my book, and when he couldn't, he started shouting like I was the thief –"

"That's not true!" Draco cried, pushing out from behind his father. "Father, he threw it at me on purpose –"

"If it hit you, it was a mistake," Antares insisted, scowling as fiercely as he could, despite the way his legs were shaking. Mr. Malfoy still had hold of his book, and was now leafing through the worn pages with a look of disgust on his face. "Someone bumped into me, and it flew out of my hands –"

"You're such a liar, Black," Draco snapped, fuming, and it was as if his words held some power, for Mr. Malfoy looked like he'd been turned to stone. "You threw it at me, and you know it!"

"If I may," the cashier said, impatiently, from behind Antares, "the boy's receipt is in order." Mr. Malfoy didn't move – it was as if he wasn't listening, so hard was he looking at Antares. "He's no more a thief than you are, Mr. Malfoy," the cashier continued, tapping Antares on the shoulder and thrusting his receipt into his face as he turned around. "I assume that's all, gentlemen. Now if you'll excuse me, I've customers to deal with." The cashier marched off with a look of serious irritation on his face, leaving Antares to fold his receipt and stuff it back into his pockets again and try to drum up the courage to demand his book back.

It turned out that he did not have to. "So, Mr. Black," Mr. Malfoy said slowly, extending the book back down to Antares, "it seems I owe you an apology."

"Thank you, sir," Antares said, hoping he sounded as cold as possible. He tried not to snatch at his book, but forced himself to reach out and take hold of it calmly. It did not budge. "Excuse me – if you could just –"

"Ah," Mr. Malfoy said, his eyes glittering with an emotion that made Antares even more uneasy, "so sorry. I was just wondering – you look so familiar, you see." Antares couldn't repress a slight shiver at the emphasis on that word. If only he could just snatch his book and be gone – "Are you any relation to the Blacks of Grimmauld Place?"

"Never heard of it," Antares said firmly, though it cost him to do so. "If you don't mind, I'd like my book back, please…?"

Mr. Malfoy's eyes were narrowed, and he looked like he wanted to do anything but that. "Of course," he said, after a moment, but did not release the book. Antares, trying to feign irritation, was just about to tug properly at it when a commotion started behind them, towards the door.

Terror took hold of him, making him abandon propriety and pull the book from Lucius' hand. Bella would be so worried –

And, as if his thought had summoned her, there she was, shoving her way through the crowd with minimum exertion, using hard looks and harder suggestions to push people out of her way as her eyes scanned the room rapidly for Antares.

The sharp intake of breath from beside him was Antares' only warning that all was up. The next moment, a frighteningly strong hand had seized hold of his arm, ignoring how that knocked his book to the floor again. It was in that instant that Bella's searching eyes landed on them and widened, and made Antares know a shame that he'd never thought he'd be able to feel.

A shame that was replaced just as quickly by confusion, for if he was not mistaken, Bella had just smiled.

"Why, Lucius! Can that be you?" Bella called loudly, enough that people's heads swivelled in their direction. She was advancing on them now, hands outstretched as if in greeting, but really devoted to another purpose, which Antares soon found out. Draco exclaimed from nearby, and quite suddenly stumbled away from his father's side…right into Bella's arms.

Mr. Malfoy stiffened beside him, and Antares found it hard to hold back a whimper as the grip on his arm tightened. All eyes were on them now, especially on Bella, who was staring in feigned surprise at Draco, who was too still with fright to struggle in her arms.

"It must be you," Bella continued, in that loud, carefree tone, as if Lucius Malfoy had not just aimed his wand squarely at her head. "You know how I know? Because you have a son, and he is more like you than I could ever have imagined – look, the eyes! The hair!" Bella laughed gaily, ignoring the way Draco was trying to squirm out of her grip. She sighed, finally, as if she'd just enjoyed a wonderful joke. "Isn't he wonderful?" she asked, her gay tone now underlain with something hard – something dangerous. "Narcissa must love him – does she?" And Bella drew her wand, to the gasps of everyone around them, and to Lucius' own startled, almost nervous laughter.

"Of course she does," he said, fondly, his wand lowering slowly. "How could you ever ask something so silly, Bellatrix?"

"Only it seems like she'd like to exchange," Bella continued, as if she had not heard Mr. Malfoy. "Doesn't she, Lucius? Else, you would not have chosen my son," she went on, now tapping her wand on Draco's shaking head, as if she was deep in thought. "He is a darling, isn't he?"

"Yes," was the strangled answer. Mr. Malfoy laughed again, but it contained a savage note, and made it sound terrible. "Why, yes – a veritable gentleman in his own right, your son."

Bella only smiled, not about to be drawn into an answer. Mr. Malfoy cleared his throat, delicately. "Only, Bella – I'm afraid the – this exchange, the one you are proposing…it won't do."

Bella raised an eyebrow at him, looking shocked. "It won't? But –"

"No, oh no – we simply must have Draco," Mr. Malfoy said, almost a little too quickly, his grip tightening on Antares' arm even more. "Blood son, you know, and all that."

"Dear oh dear," Bella said, and there was no hint of gaiety in her tone now. "And I was growing so fond of him." She smiled, sweetly, as Mr. Malfoy let go of Antares, allowing him to stumble toward his mother as fast as he could. Draco was let go only when Antares had bridged more than half the distance between his pale, stiff father and Bella, and he almost fell, he was rushing so. Bella drew Antares to her side, her graceful manner belying the grip she had on his shoulder. "Always a pleasure, Lucius – we simply must do this again." She turned, beckoning Antares after her with a simple twist of her hand. The silent, seething crowd parted for them unwillingly, many of them shooting such venomous looks in him and Bella's direction that Antares pressed closer to her without even thinking.

However, it seemed that Mr. Malfoy was not quite finished with them, as his clear, cold tone halted them just as they reached the door. "Wait a moment, Bella – your son forgot something." Antares turned first, and was lucky he did so – the book would have injured him, flying as fast as it was. He caught it with a straight face, as if it hadn't hit his hand hard enough to nearly hurt him. Bella took it from him, turning back to give Mr. Malfoy a cold, poisonous smile.

"Much obliged, Lucius. See that you do not forget anything, either." And then they were out, and heading for Malkin's as quickly as was humanly possible. Bella's lips were drawn tight across her face, and she was beginning to breathe sharply, as if she'd just run a race. She didn't give him time to question her, though – one moment, they were out on the street, and the next, they had pushed through into Madam Malkin's with nary an apology for anyone they jostled, and were heading for the mannequin room with a will.

Antares flinched as they entered – the mannequins tried to gain Bella's attention by tapping her on the shoulder, but instead of merely ignoring them as she had done the first time, she whipped out her wand and stared them down with such a look of fury on her face that even Antares felt fear flicker within him.

"Pick up your cauldron," she snapped at him, and he did, only for her to seize his only purchase and thunk it into the half-empty cauldron, making the Potions ingredients clatter about inside. "Suppose I should be glad you didn't bother to buy everything – less to carry, isn't it?"

"Mum –"

"Shut up," Bella snapped, turning away from him, jostling the squealing, frightened mannequins out of her way as she tried to reach the Floo powder pot on the hearth in the corner. "Don't just stand there, Antares, come here!" Shaking, Antares did as he was told, only to have his cauldron seized out of his hands and have one of them crammed with Floo powder. "Incendio! Now go home, and be quick about it!" Antares, breathing hard, did as he was told, and was soon spinning dizzyingly fast, the grates flashing by sickeningly fast. He was in the hearth and in Snape's house almost before he realised it, and began scrambling out of the hearth in a panic, sure that Bella would be there in seconds –

Crack. His mother appeared in the middle of the living room clutching his cauldron, looking so upset that it made Antares want to hide. It took a minute for Antares to force himself over to her, and, shaking with fear, try to pry the cauldron from her hands.

There was no need, for Bella had dropped it, hard, and was now nearly suffocating him with the strength of her hug. "Oh, god," she whispered, her voice shakier than he had ever heard it, "so – so close. So close." She sat down unceremoniously, dragging Antares to the floor with her, her arms only shifting around him as he tried to sit and kneel at the same time. "I'm so sorry – I shouldn't have sent you, I'm such a fool –"

"Wasn't your fault," was all Antares could think to say, and it didn't surprise him to find that his voice was as shaky as hers. "I – it was a mistake –"

"What's going on?" Snape's sharp tone seemed to slice into the silence, accompanied by the sound of his hurried footsteps. "Bella – what on earth…" A rustling could now be heard, as Snape bent down nearby, probably examining the mess Antares' cauldron had made when Bella dropped it. The next moment, the man's smelly, strong hands were prying Antares out of Bella's grip to the sound of her tears, and forcefully dragging both of them to their feet. Antares was left to regain his balance as Snape coaxed Bella onto one of the sofas, and when he did so, he made to sit beside her. "Don't be silly, boy – make yourself useful and fetch her something to drink!"

Antares gritted his teeth in anger, but one look at his mother's shaking form had him heading for the kitchen on unsteady legs to do that very thing. She did need something to calm her down, and he wasn't going to deny her that just because Snape had suggested it.

It didn't take long for Antares to quickly decide that water wouldn't do much to calm her down, and begin searching for some alternative. Firewhiskey'll be far too strong, he thought, turning away from the small group of ugly red bottles clustered together in the pantry, she needs calming down, not stirring up… A search soon had him deciding between an equally ugly electric-blue bottle of vodka and a plain one of what looked like cider. Minutes later, Antares was heading back into the living room, the cider bottle and a glass in tow. What he saw made him drop the bottle and edge for the stairs.

Snape was there, comforting Bella, all right – he was kissing her, so blatantly and so disgustingly, and she was allowing it, her arms flung round him, her eyes closed. It hurt to watch, to know that he'd been sent away just so this could happen, and it was painful enough that the glass went the way of the bottle, and that Antares didn't even pretend to listen to the cries of alarm that followed him up the stairs. In what seemed like no time at all, he was behind the door and they were on the other side. It didn't take a minute to whisper a savage Offirmo – she deserves to cry, Antares thought to himself, stepping away from the expanding door, his wand slipping out of his suddenly nerveless fingers.

Because really, how unfair was all this? Berating him in the shop when all he'd done was try to do what he was told… And now, this; letting that – that lecherous bastard send him away and slobber all over her. So he could slobber all over her, as if she were his, and Antares was just the errand boy that made meals and practiced spells in a corner of the house.

Fighting back tears, Antares got into his bed and crawled under the covers. If he cried here, he could pretend that he hadn't, since all he could see was dimness and dirty sheets. If he cried here, he could pretend that he hadn't given in, given up.

Antares closed his eyes. He could pretend.

A/N: Sorry, guys – cliff-hanger, much? Well, I suppose it's not too bad – there are worse ones than that this year, anyway – and I do think I should be able to have the next chapter up pretty soon. As always, I'd love to hear what you think. The next chapter is tentatively titled Mayhem, and may or may not include a newspaper article. Hope you liked this one, and hope you like the next – see you then!