The Everlasting Day

by JessReyes

Sirius has been on the run from the Ministry for almost a year, and he's running out of places to hide. Tired and frustrated with his inability to help Harry when he needs him, he decides that the only way to reclaim his future is to first reclaim his past. But twelve years is a long time - can things ever be the same? AU.

5. Chapter 5

I've just been looking at the traffic stats for this story, and it brought a huge smile to my face :-) This chapter is dedicated to my followers and readers from all those exotic countries that I can only hope to one day visit - you guys have started my New Year off in the best way! Thank you, sincerely :-)

5

The moonless night was as dark as pitch when Ariadne reached the deserted hillside overlooking the coast of the Irish Sea. The oil-black ocean moved like a malevolent colossus, roaring with all of Neptune's fury as it hurled itself against the foot of the cliffs beneath her, whipped into near frenzy by the relentless, howling wind and pelting rain. Despite the fact that it was July it was freezing, the rain driving hard against her robes until she was soaked through to the skin, shivering, her fingers and toes numb as ice. The light cast by her wand tip barely cut through the fog swirling around her as she struggled on, icy darts of rain lashing her face until she reached the cemetery. The rusted iron gate refused to budge until she had said 'Alohamora!' It groaned open.

The graveyard seemed deserted as she fought her way through overgrown grass, tripped over warped and twisted gravestones and had her face scratched by the brambles twisting down from the branches of the yew trees. A strange, mixed scent of damp earth, decay and metallic ozone drifted into her consciousness as she sheltered her eyes from the wind and rain with her hand and looked up, peering into the swirling, howling darkness for the ramshackle church ruin that stood on the far side of the cemetery. Beyond a scattering of family mausoleums that were at least a few hundred years old, the wan beam of her wand caught a sliver of glass that still remained in the shattered windows of the disused church and she knew that she had found what she had been looking for. Pulling her cloak closer around her, she hurried on through the terrible weather. If this was the kind of place where the Death Eaters usually met, then maybe she really would be better off rethinking their plan.

She was surprised to see the door to the church was in very good repair and even appeared to have had a fresh coat of varnish recently applied. She wondered why anyone should go to so much trouble when half the windows and most of the roof were gone, but she rapped hard on the door in any case. It clicked open almost immediately and she stepped inside, keeping her lit wand out in front of her, clutched in a trembling hand.

The porch was warm and illuminated with glowing red candles, the broken windows seemingly blocked with some kind of protective charm that not only sealed out the weather, but also the sounds of the howling wind. Ariadne's ears rang in the stark, sudden silence as she shook the rain from her robe and said, 'Dessico,' touching the tip of her wand to her hair and her clothes to dry them.

As she pushed through the second double doorway ahead of her, she found herself in the main hall of the church, all the pews that should have covered the floor stacked up against the moss-covered walls. Instead, right in the centre of the stone floor, a large fire burned in a magical hearth, providing both the warmth and the orange-yellow light. Standing beside it were Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, Walden Macnair, Altair and Lyra Bulstrode, Romulus and Ophelia Crabbe, Jacob and Shana Goyle and a handful of other faces she vaguely remembered but failed to attach names to. The other two of Voldemort's most vociferous supporters, Rodolphus and Bellatrix Lestrange - the latter being a cousin of Sirius' - were, thankfully, still in Azkaban and therefore absent from the proceedings. Narcissa was positively gracious in her behaviour towards Ariadne compared to how Bellatrix would have treated her. The two had never particularly seen eye-to-eye, mostly due to Bellatrix's pure-blood mania - prejudice that Ariadne never could tolerate.

'Welcome, Ariadne,' said Malfoy, stepping forward. 'I trust the inclement weather didn't prove too much of a problem for you.'

'Not at all,' she replied. 'I would have Apparated here directly, but as I was unsure of the exact location of the church itself, I felt it might be safer to choose a spot just outside. It wouldn't do to Apparate inside a wall, now would it?'

Malfoy nodded. 'Well, now you're here, please sit.' He waved his wand behind him and several large, plush red armchairs appeared in a semi-circle beside the fire.

Ariadne crossed the stone-slab floor and took the chair closest to the fire, hoping that the heat would help to defrost her frozen limbs and keep her from shivering too much. Such a reaction may be misconstrued as fear; a reaction that would be likely to get her killed.

The others took up their places in the semi-circle and waited for Malfoy to ensure that the front door was securely locked and sealed with Imperturbable charms before he came to stand in front of them.

'Now we have all arrived, I will start by clarifying the reason for tonight's meeting. As you know, these are dangerous times for our kind. The Dark Lord is regaining his strength and will be ready to assume his proper place very soon, but as our numbers grow, so do the suspicions of the Ministry. While I am doing my utmost to deflect any such attention from myself and from all of you, nonetheless it is becoming a difficult task for me to accomplish alone.'

There was a murmur of assent from the circle. An elderly wizard that Ariadne didn't recognise sitting on the far side of the circle lit a pipe from which thick green smoke began to emanate. His was the only gaze that still lingered on her. He made her more uncomfortable than Malfoy.

'Earlier today, however, I was approached by someone who should be familiar to all of you. Her brother was once a member of our circle before he betrayed the Dark Lord to return to Dumbledore's side. She, however, assures me that she has no such affiliations and indeed has no reason to. Her life was ruined through her association with someone who fell afoul of the Ministry and she now seeks to join us. Tonight's purpose, therefore, is to induct Ariadne Snape into our circle.'

Malfoy turned to face her, holding out his hand to indicate that he wished for her to join him.

A jolt of electricity shot the length of her spine and settled in the pit of her stomach like a lead weight as she pushed up from the chair, but she nonetheless strode confidently to his side, turning to face those gathered.

'Ms Snape would like to add her herbology and potions mastery to our circle in place of her brother's. Her motivation is clear and presents many advantages to us, but before we can begin any discussions regarding this matter, she must be tested.'

Ariadne had suspected that something like this would be necessary. All the same, the nausea she had earlier felt returned to haunt her and she was infinitely glad that her wand was within easy reach beneath the folds of her robes.

Malfoy waved his own wand and another chair appeared in front of the fire, facing the Death Eaters. This one was markedly different from the plush armchairs he had produced before. It was a high-backed wooden chair with stiff arms jutting out on either side, each one with a metal cuff attached to the end. More cuffs were attached to both front legs and an iron collar stood out from its head.

Carefully watching Ariadne, he gestured to it, inviting her to take it. Swallowing thickly, she offered him a half smile of expected confidence and went to sit down. As soon as she was in place, Malfoy gently turned her left arm over so that the underside of her forearm was exposed before he waved his wand again. Instantly, the cuffs locked tight around her wrists and ankles and the iron collar snapped shut across her neck.

'The Dark Lord requires those who serve him to be marked as a sign of their loyalty and to prevent allegiance to him being denied in the face of our enemies. It is also an acknowledgement of the pain and suffering our ancestors endured at the hands of Muggles during the dark years of persecution they faced. Only when a witch, or wizard, has been burned and marked may they truly feel the need for the righteous vengeance that must be visited back a hundred fold upon the Muggle persecutors, blood traitors and their Mudblood derivatives who have so polluted our world. As our revered leader is, unfortunately, unable to be here in person, he has given me a tool which may make the mark in lieu of his wand and has entrusted this sacred ritual to me.'

Ariadne tried to move her wrists, hoping to be able to manipulate her fingers just enough to reach her wand, but she could move only a few millimetres and was unable to even turn her head away from the gathered observers to mutter a charm of protection.

When he turned to pull the red-hot brand from the fire, her heart leapt into her throat and began to pound there, choking off her air. A slab of dry sponge seemed to have replaced her tongue. He advanced towards her, the brand in one hand, the other pushing back the left sleeve of her robe.

She tried not to let the incredible wave of terror that she felt rising within her break, keeping her gaze fixed firmly on a point just above the doors at the far end of the hall. She found herself trying to picture Sirius's face, trying to remember how his arms had felt around her, how his lips had tasted after so many years of aching for him, the warmth and kindness in his smile and…

God...

The brand touched the soft, sensitive skin on the underside of her forearm and the pain that burst through her was like an exploding sun. Pure, white-hot agonies blistered and burnt her skin until she felt as though it was biting through to the bone; grating through it. She bit her tongue so hard that she tasted blood to keep the scream that was building in her throat from erupting and sweat began to flow in rivulets over her forehead and down her back. Just when she thought she would be unable to contain the cry of agony any longer, Malfoy lifted the brand and whispered a healing charm to seal in the Apparation magic as he touched the tip of his wand to her bleeding, blistered forearm. The sickening odour of singed, burnt flesh dissipated instantly and the pain was extinguished almost as suddenly as it had come, leaving behind the blackened scar of the Dark Mark on her arm.

But it was far more than just a mark. With it, she could be summoned to the Dark Lord's side in a second. He would be able to track her and observe her. He might even be able to hear her. As it was, in his weakened state, it was highly unlikely that Voldemort would be able to do anything, and that was the only reason that the anxiety she would normally have felt was kept suppressed to mere mild concern. For now, she regarded it as little more than a necessary evil. An exceedingly painful evil.

She let out a long, slow breath and looked up at Malfoy who was watching her intently, a curious mix of satisfaction and excitement on his face.

'Did I pass?' she whispered, fixing him with a cold and determined stare.

A wan, thin smile flickered on his face and he tilted his head forward almost imperceptibly.

'Do you swear eternal allegiance to the Dark Lord, under penalty of the Dementors Kiss?'

'The Dementors?' The question had already slipped from her lips before she'd had time to consider that some of the fear that had rippled through her in that instant might have leaked into her voice.

Malfoy had been about to ask her again, but his mouth snapped shut. He regarded her carefully through narrowed eyes.

'Are you not aware of the oath?'

'Of course I am. Death has always been the penalty, Malfoy.'

'Perhaps. At one time. Now, since the Ministry's exceptionally poor treatment of the faithful and long-time servants of Azkaban subsequent to Sirius Black's escape, the Dementors feel understandably aggrieved and have thus consented to join the ranks of the Dark Lord's new army. Any witch or wizard who betrays us now will suffer the penalty of the Dementors' Kiss, something far worse than death. Does this pose a problem for you?'

She smiled, glancing from Malfoy to the rest of the assembly. 'Of course not. Why would it? Only those who plan to betray the Dark Lord need worry. I pledge my allegiance, Malfoy.'

Another murmur of acquiescence went around the circle as Malfoy waved his wand. The restraints disappeared and when she stood up, the chair vanished too.

'The Dark Lord bids you welcome to the Death Eaters,' he said, shaking her hand.

There was a brief round of applause, then the rest of those gathered stood to shake the hand of the latest recruit to their number. Ariadne behaved just as she should have; congratulating Lyra Bulstrode on the successful Imperitus curse she had placed on another high ranking member of the Ministry last week; commiserating with Walden Macnair on his being prevented from administering the punishment to Buckbeak that he had been so looking forward to; encouraging Ophelia Crabbe in her efforts to convert her sister and her family into the Death Eaters.

She stood there and socialised with murderers and torturers for at least an hour, gradually feeling sicker and sicker before Malfoy relieved her suffering and took her by the arm, whisking her away to a quiet corner of the church beside the ancient, cracked stone altar.

'You did well tonight, Ariadne,' he told her. 'You've impressed a lot of people who aren't easy to impress. Many wizards and witches greater than you have wept as the mark was administered. You bore it well.'

'Thank you,' she said, a little uncertainly. 'I have to admit that I wasn't expecting an initiation tonight, but I understand the importance of ensuring the loyalty of the Dark Lord's supporters. The sooner I am accepted, the sooner Sirius can come home.'

'Ah,' Lucius said, 'so you do know where he is.'

Ariadne smiled. 'Come now, Lucius, you don't really expect me to answer that, do you?'

'No. I would have thought you a fool if you had.'

'I would prefer to see his acquittal in writing first. I want to see something in the Daily Prophet, I want to see legal documents, I want to see a full retraction of all charges and an official apology from the Ministry. When they've finished grovelling, then I will kill them. Every last one of them will pay for what they did to us.'

Lucius nodded respectfully. 'I have long awaited that day. But the reason I wanted to speak to you is to tell you that I have already set the wheels in motion. I have spoken to Cornelius Fudge and Mafalda Hopkirk, amongst others, and informed them that I was unfortunate enough to encounter one Peter Pettigrew last week. Quite a shock, considering he was supposed to have been dead for the past thirteen years.'

'But what about Pettigrew himself? And the Dark Lord? Surely it is not to their advantage for the Ministry to know of them?'

'Pettigrew is a weak and pathetic fool,' Malfoy spat. 'He is a cowardly servant of the Dark Lord who would prove an excellent appetiser to be served up to the Ministry to deflect them away from the second rising. Pettigrew knows nothing of our meeting tonight. Most of us object most strenuously to the Dark Lord's dependence on him in any case. After all, it was he who led the Dark Lord to the Potters that night, a move that almost destroyed him. Pettigrew has long since outlived his usefulness.'

'Ah,' she said, 'I wondered why he wasn't here tonight.'

'Well, things should be settled within a few days. I shall send word to you when it is safe. Perhaps it would be best if Black attends one of our meetings before he attempts to re-enter the wizarding community. He will need to undergo the initiation and I need to have a few more discussions with some of the Ministry's officials. We will discuss then how we will begin to pave the way for the return of the Dark Lord.'

'And where is he now? Have you found him yet?'

Malfoy's pale face for some reason seemed to be a little more pink than usual. 'He is resting, too weak at the moment to reclaim his place, but be assured that he will be back very soon.'

'I hope so. I think I can speak for Sirius as well as myself when I say that I am eager for the Dark Lord's return. The traitors and Mudbloods have been allowed too much freedom for far too long.'

'I couldn't have stated it better myself. I shall, of course, be requiring a demonstration of your gratitude for the risks I have taken on your behalf, Ariadne. Something more…tangible,' he said, his fingers trailing lazily over her thigh, squeezing her flesh through her robes.

Ariadne smiled awkwardly. His touch was making her feel both incensed and nauseous at the same time.

'I'm sure something can be arranged, Lucius,' she managed to choke out.

'I look forward to it,' Malfoy whispered, getting to his feet and offering his hand to help her up.

She thanked him and made her way back to the others. Malfoy closed the meeting, extinguished the fire and gradually, the gathered witches and wizards began to Disapparate.

'I shall contact you soon to discuss our…agreement,' Malfoy reiterated just before he and Narcissa Disapparated too. The crack was still echoing around the church as Ariadne pulled her cloak tighter around herself again and in a flash, was back at the motel.

As soon as she put the lights on, she threw off her cloak and rushed straight to the bathroom where she ran herself a steaming hot bath and lay there soaking and scrubbing herself in the bubbles for almost an hour. She had always thought that most witches and wizards didn't know what they were missing by using scourgifying charms - the soothing and relaxing properties of a nice, hot, bubble-filled Muggle-type bath could never be overstated as far as she was concerned and were a match for the best of tranquillity draughts. As much as she usually enjoyed taking a bath though, when she emerged, she still didn't feel any cleaner. The sickly scent of the fire still lingered in her nose and the scar itched, ached and burned on her arm, but it was the psychological grime that she found the hardest to move. She could still feel the ghost of Malfoy's hand on her thigh, making her stomach lurch every time she thought of it.

Pulling on one of the motel's robes and running a comb through her wet hair, she grabbed the silver case with the Floo powder and knelt down in front of the fireplace. She was about to call for Sirius when she realised that there was no reason for her to stay at the motel any longer. It could be a few days before she heard from Malfoy again and even then, the owl would be able to find her wherever she was and right now, she wanted nothing more than to be with Sirius again.

She dressed, gathered her things together, checked out of the motel and Apparated back to the shores of Derwentwater, very grateful that the heat of the day had long since dissipated from here, leaving the air brisk, sharp and clean. So much so that she gathered her cloak a little tighter around her as she walked back towards the clearing where her home stood.

It was very late when she arrived; she hadn't realised just how late until she saw how far Pegasus and Andromeda had moved across the sky and realised that it must be around two thirty in the morning. Nonetheless, she felt reassured to see that the Disillusionment charm was still in place around her house, but as she was the only one who knew it was there, she didn't have any trouble locating the front door.

Sirius was slouched in her favourite armchair, fast asleep, in front of a roaring fire. A half-full glass of Firewhisky leaned precariously in his hand, and on the small table beside him was a plate with a few crumbs that looked like the remainders of a pumpkin pasty. Her battered copy of 'Quidditch Through The Ages' lay open on his knee beside the glass of Firewhisky and she smiled to herself as she knelt down in front of him, pulled the book and the glass gently away from his hands. Despite her suggestion that he try reading something constructive instead of just moping about the house feeling sorry for himself, she should have realised that he would still end up with a Quidditch book. She never had been able to get him to read anything that had the word 'textbook' or 'education' attached to it in the past, and it didn't look as though that was likely to change now.

He must have been naturally gifted as a wizard because his skills had certainly never come from studying. Actually, she seemed to recall that he had spent most of his final exams leaning back on his chair, chewing the end of his quill and making eyes at the witches around him who had been far more tempted by him and his dark, brooding good looks than the tattered pieces of parchment in front of them. And yet he still managed to pass all his O.W.L's.

She still couldn't believe that, out of all the women Sirius could have had, he'd chosen her. Despite the weight he'd lost, despite the pale pallor prison had left him with, he was a very attractive man who still had the power to make something flip over in her stomach when she looked at him. Even after all these years.

'Sirius?' she whispered, pushing strands of his dark hair away from his face.

He awoke with a start, his fingers flying instinctively towards his wand, but as soon as he saw her, his face broke out in a wide, warm, welcoming smile and he pulled her into his arms.

'Ari! I didn't expect you back so soon. Merlin, I'm glad you're back. It's lonely here without you.'

'It's only been a day,' she said affectionately, but her arms were tight around him too as she closed her eyes, laying her head against his chest.

'An hour's too long. We've been apart too much already.' He pressed a kiss into her hair, moving his hands to either side of her face to push her back so he could look at her. 'Are you okay?' he asked, his thumbs drawing slow circles against her cheeks. 'Did they hurt you?'

'No, I'm fine. They let me in. Malfoy is making arrangements for you to come back within the next couple of days. It won't be long, Sirius. We just have to be patient for a little while longer.'

He might have believed her if his hands hadn't moved again to run over her arms and she hadn't flinched.

His brow creased in confusion and concern and he grabbed her wrist even as she tried to pull it away.

'Sirius, it's - '

'Merlin,' he gasped as he pushed back the sleeves of her robe and saw the Dark Mark burned into her skin.

'It's alright,' she murmured, avoiding his eyes. 'It's done now. It's just a tattoo. You got those in Azkaban, didn't you? It's no big deal.'

'No big deal? My tattoos can't summon me to Voldemort's side. They weren't burned on in a dark rite designed to cause pain. They don't lie by omission and get you inducted into the bloody Death-Eaters, Ariadne. What the hell is wrong with you?!'

'I did it for you! Because I love you, because I want you to be free, because I want more for us and Harry than what we've been left with. If having this mark is the price for that, then I'd gladly pay it a thousand times over. It was the only way they would have believed me enough to help you.'

'But I never wanted this, Ari! You said it would never go that far, that you'd stop if it did. Don't you know what having this means?'

'Of course I do. I'm not a child, Sirius. But it's a risk I'm willing to take for you and Harry. You-Know-Who is too weak at the moment and if we succeed, it won't matter anyway. It's a mark and that's all it is. Besides, I don't intend to display it for everyone to see.'

But he was not to be pacified. 'You should have told me, Ari. There was no need to take it this far.'

She took his face in her hands, even though he was refusing to look at her. 'It will be worth it, I promise you. For me, for you, for Harry…for Lily and James too. There's no risk that James wouldn't have taken to keep Harry safe. How can you ever be of any help to him on the run? Or worse? Sirius, please don't be angry with me. I need your support.'

He closed his eyes and sighed. He had to acknowledge that she was probably right, but that still didn't make it any easier. In the absence of anything else to be said that could prevent her from continuing down the path she had chosen, he just opened his arms to her again and pulled her close, holding her head against his chest. They just held each other for a while in silence before he let her go and she sat back on her heels.

'I'm not angry with you, Ari. I'm just…I don't know…angry with myself, I suppose. For not being with you…for not being able to do something to prevent this. I didn't want you to get hurt and now you have been and I feel so powerless, so inadequate, such a bloody pathetic failure…'

'Hey, there's no need for you to be feeling any of those things. No one forced me to go to that cemetery. I chose to. Because I love you. Because I want to help you. There are people out there that you should be directing your anger at, if you have to direct it at anyone.'

He sighed again. He knew that she was right, but he hated having to admit to his helplessness, whether temporary or not. But he was deeply touched by her unswerving devotion to him. Particularly when he felt as though he'd done nothing to deserve it. 'So what happens now?' he asked softly.

'Malfoy says that things have already been set in motion with the Ministry. Turns out that Wormtail isn't too popular with either camp at the moment.'

'Too goddamned right,' he muttered. 'Filthy little weasel. Bloodsucking repulsive, ugly, traitorous, stinking little - '

'I know how you feel, but that doesn't help us now. Malfoy has said that he is going to make it known that he has seen Pettigrew alive. He's going to send word to me as soon as it is safe for you and as soon as he does, he wants to meet with you.'

'With me?' he said incredulously. 'What on earth for? I thought it was you he had the thing for.'

She smiled. 'He does not have a thing for me. Maybe he did once, but you know what he's like, Sirius. Likes to assert his authority. You'd probably be looking around if you were married to Narcissa too.'

'Maybe,' he chuckled, brushing the back of his finger over her cheek.

'Whether or not Pettigrew is around, the vast majority of people still believe that you killed twelve people with a single curse. Even when you're cleared, I suspect that some people will still be wary of you and that kind of reputation will always go down well with the Death Eaters, particularly now that the Dark Lord is on the rise again. I think Malfoy has a special place in mind for you.'

Sirius grinned wickedly again. 'Oh, so I have a reputation, do I? How much is the price on my head these days anyway?'

'It's not funny, Sirius. You have to make this good or they're never going to believe us and you'll never get close enough to get Pettigrew. And without him, you'll never be free.'

'I know.' The disappointment couldn't have been more evident in his voice. 'So they want to see me…I suppose I have to admit that I did expect it, just not so soon. I'm sure I'll be able to manage. The only hard part will be trying to restrain myself from choking the life out of that stinking little rat the second I see him. Do you reckon I'd get away with an Unforgivable?'

'Tempting, I know, but no. You're better than that, Sirius. James wouldn't have wanted you to become a killer - or a torturer - and I wholeheartedly agree with him. Death is too quick for Pettigrew. Once he's done twelve years in Azkaban without going insane, then you'll be even. Then we can both sell Malfoy and the others to the Ministry as a bonus, and we can all finally get on with our lives.'

'Sounds good to me.' He leaned back into the chair and rubbed a hand over his tired, drawn face. His eyes seemed to have grown darker over the past day or so and instead of looking at least marginally better than he had when he'd first escaped, Ariadne was beginning to think he was looking worse. Sitting, waiting, thinking, considering - none of these had ever been Sirius' strong points. Ariadne knew that he must be tearing his hair out and she had nothing but sympathy for him, but there was little more they could do at this stage.

'How's Buckbeak?' she asked, by way of a slight change in direction that she hoped would cheer him up.

'Oh, he's having the time of his life making one hell of a mess of the watermill and clearing a five mile radius of every stoat, squirrel, vole, bat and just about anything else that he can lay his claws on,' Sirius sighed. 'He knows not to go too far though so don't worry about him.'

'What about Harry? Have you heard from him?'

'Not yet. I told him about the Firebolt I sent him though. Gave him the permission slip he needed to go to Hogsmead on the weekends, too. There was so much more I wanted to tell him, but the only owl I could find looked half dead as it was. If I'd given it any more than one roll of parchment it probably would have collapsed before it'd gotten as far as the edge of the lake. I told Harry to give it to his friend, Ron…the one I frightened to death with the knife, you know?' he added with a self-deprecating smile. 'You made me feel a bit guilty about that.'

'You already felt guilty. You didn't need me to bring that out of you.'

'Maybe a little. I robbed the poor kid of his pet too. Even though it wasn't a great loss really…Pettigrew made as good a rat as he did a human being.'

Ariadne chuckled. 'Can't argue with that.'

He looked across at her; at the candlelight caressing her cheekbones and warming her eyes, and had never loved her more than he did then. He touched her hair. 'I'm sorry if I've been tetchy with you. It hasn't been very easy for me, these past few months. I didn't mean to sound ungrateful or critical.'

She nodded as his fingers moved from her hair, over her arms and down to her hands.

'So what do we do now? Just sit and wait?'

'I think so,' she replied with a shrug. 'There's not much else we can do. You-Know-Who is still in hiding, you still have to keep a low profile and I'm about as popular as a case of spattergroit, so until we get the all-clear, I think we're holed up here.'

A slow, sly smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. For an instant, twenty years seemed to disappear from his face and she saw a flash of the boy she had once known in the man in front of her; the spark that still lived within him, buried beneath the years of accumulated bitterness, anger, frustration and loneliness. 'Mmm. Well, I'm sure we'll find something to do.'

'I suppose we'll have to,' she grinned, her fingers wandering over his thighs, his waist, up beneath the loose black shirt. His skin felt so soft and warm beneath her fingertips as she explored him, leaning closer as she pushed the shirt back and began touching gentle kisses to his stomach.

'Mmm…that's nice,' he breathed, slumping down a little further in the seat as she moved her attentions up over his chest, 'but it's very late…what do you say to us moving…oh…that feels really good…moving this upstairs…'

She stopped and moved back just a little to take her wand from her robe. 'Accio Rug. Accio Shawl,' she whispered, and the plush, soft rug that usually lay in front of the sofa slid across the floor to the front of the fireplace, swiftly joined by a large, thick Aztec-style blanket that unfolded itself from a hamper in the corner and flew across the room to the rug. 'Candela Inflammarae,'she added, pointing the wand at the thick church candles that stood either side of the mantle above the fire. Instantly, they burst into life, sending flickering shadows and thin orange tendrils of light crawling over the room.

'How's that?' she said, smiling warmly as she pulled him down onto the floor beside her and finished her work on his shirt, pushing it over his shoulders as he laid back into the soft sheepskin rug.

He reached for her, pulling her into a heartfelt embrace as he kissed her with a sweet, gentle tenderness that touched her deeply enough to bring tears to her eyes.

'Perfect,' he said softly when they broke apart for just a moment, long enough for him to unbutton her robes and pull the shawl over them both. 'Absolutely perfect.'