AN:
Just 4 days late. Whoaa, is this for real?
Skendo, you made my day. (: SelenaKat, you're my virtual bestie, so hiii. SilveryWind, you're the best. paulaa90, get well soon, ma chérie! *heart*
And onestepclosertomagic, I do not use Google translate (that much!) -_- xD Remind me, why are we friends?
§
Disclaimer: Harry Potter? Not mine. Cover art? Not mine. The Linfred of Stinchcombe part is from Pottermore. The sigil part is mine.
Pairing: Sirius/fem!Harry
Warnings: I only read it over once. Grammatical errors and typos might abound. Tell me if you find any, yes?
THREADS OF TIME
Chapter 7
"Angry is just sad's bodyguard."
~ Liza Palmer ~
OoOoO
Bella hates this, she fucking hates this.
Both she and Remus, have been working on the spell for the ritual of Grace for the past two days, but she still can't perfect it. Agreed, Charms has never been her strongest subject, but she has never struggled over a spell this much.
"The Patronus Charm is much harder. And if you were able to learn it when you were thirteen, you will be able to cast this as well. Let's take a break and get back to it?" suggests Remus, patiently as ever.
She groans and drops her head onto the open book in front of her. Sirius has gotten her all the books he can find about it from the Black library, but it's of no use. It's almost as if her wand is -
That's it! Bella thinks she has figured out the problem.
She sits up excitedly, her neck almost snapping at the speed at which she gets up, and sees how Remus is eyeing her sudden manic grin warily.
"I think I know why I can't perform the spell. It's my wand. I don't think its allegiance is to me."
Remus furrows his eyebrows as he thinks it over.
"But you should be having a problem with all your spells then, right? You should have a problem casting even an Accio."
Bella bites her lower lip as she thinks it over. It makes sense; after all, she doesn't know how she got the wand. And just because she physically has it doesn't mean she actually owns it.
So she summons the newspaper from the living room, and it comes flying in, landing sloppily on the table in front of them.
"I've been casting all the spells except this Grace one properly. I've had no trouble."
Their conversation devolves into silence, as they're both lost in their own thoughts. Bella thinks a trip to Ollivander's is warranted, but what if the phoenix feather wand chooses her? Then what will Harry do? He'll need that specific wand if he has to duel Voldemort, eventually.
"Do you know any cleaning spells?" asks Remus suddenly.
"The standard Scrougify, Evanesco... That's about it."
"What about household spells? Like ones to bake potatoes and set a timer on the boiling?"
She stares at him, not knowing what he's getting at.
"Er, no?"
"Brilliant!" he exclaims, as he summons a glass from the kitchen. Bella still doesn't know what's going on. He fills the summoned glass using Aguamenti, and then pushes the glass towards her.
"Heat the water in the glass with the standard heating spell. It's Eauchaud," he says, mimicking the wand movement for the spell.
It looks relatively simple. But Bella now knows what he's getting at.
"You think I have a problem only with spells I haven't learnt before?" she asks, and his smile answers her question.
She picks up her wand and utters the spell, hoping that Remus' hypothesis is right.
OoOoO
It's half past eleven, and Sirius isn't home yet. Bella doesn't want to feel worried about it, but nevertheless, she is. It's more than three hours since Remus left for his shift; he works as a barman at a Muggle pub.
But where the hell is Sirius right now?
It feels so odd, waiting for someone to come back... It's something she's never done before, not counting the times when she, Ron and Mione used to stalk the Ministry. Is this what it feels like to have some form of a quasi family - to worry all the time?
Sighing, she goes to check on Harry, to see if he's sleeping. He looks disturbed, though, so she lifts him out of his crib and rocks him gently in her arms till he looks like a tiny raven haired angel, smiling gently.
When she makes her way back to the living room, it's past midnight, and there's still no sign of Sirius. She turns on the telly and sets it on mute. There's some Charlie Chaplin movie going on, but she isn't watching.
Why can't he have sent her a note? Has he gone to confront Pettigrew, who's in a Ministry holding cell?
Merlin, she hopes not. All her efforts of ensuring he wasn't unfairly put in Azkaban would be for naught, then.
What if he's hurt and can't Apparate back? What if some free Death Eater's got him? He could be de-
The front door is thrown open, and Sirius slumps in. Bella hurries over to check is he's all right, when she realises that all her worrying was completely useless.
The man is piss drunk.
She's tempted to slap him, but she doesn't. Instead, she gently leads him to the sofa and sits him down. There's no point in getting mad at him and yelling when he's sloshed. She'll save her reprimands for when he's sober.
She sits down next to him and he slumps sideways, his nose burrowing into her shoulder. He smells like cheap tequila. Is tequila his favourite drink or something?
"Do you want some water?" she asks him, wondering if he's coherent enough to understand.
His face goes up and down and against her shoulder, and she assumes that to be a yes. She ignores how the action sends tingles of warmth through her nervous system.
He's drunk and feeling these things is wrong. It's like she's taking advantage of him.
She dislodges him from her and goes into the kitchen to get a glass of water. Doing things manually has its charm, especially when one is a witch. It's nice to not be completely reliant on a piece of wood.
When she enters the living room again, she's slightly disconcerted by how Sirius seems to be talking to himself. He's whispering 'sorry' continuously in a broken voice, choking on a sob now and then.
It's scary. It's bloody scary.
Bella sets the glass on the centre table and pushes Sirius aside carefully, so that she can sit next to him.
What had he done last night for her? He had pulled her onto his lap and calmed her down. At least, that's what she thinks he did.
Sirius' hair falls below his chin, and she has a vague memory of her Remus saying that Sirius' hair length was an indication of how depressed he felt. It looks like it's true in this thread as well.
"Hey, now. Why are you sorry?" she asks him, an arm around his shoulders. He's shaking.
"Ish aall me fault. I told Prongsh to use Peter. It'sh my fault Jamesh an' Lillly are dead," he says, his speech heavily slurred.
Bella takes his chin with her other hand and shakes his face a little. His eyes are firmly closed shut, and he keeps repeating sorry.
He wasn't this way yesterday. Why was he feeling so goddamn guilty today?
"Siri? Sirius? Open your eyes. Look at me when I tell you this."
He doesn't look like he wants to open his eyes, but her continuous shaking of his face forces him to do so. His eyes are bloodshot, but she bores into his blue-grey eyes with her green ones.
"It. Is. Not. Your. Fault. Got it? It's not your fault. Peter Pettigrew is a coward, and it's his fault. Not yours. Not now, not ever. You were a good friend, you still are. You are a good person. It's not your fault.
He stares at her with a lost expression, and she thinks what she said has sunk in, when he apologises to her. "I'm shorry I killed your parentsh. All my fault."
She pulls his chin roughly towards her face, so that she's glaring right into his face.
"IT'S. NOT. YOUR. FAULT."
He doesn't seem to have heard her, but she doesn't mind telling him that for as long as he needs to hear it. So she lets him rant, rave, sob and murmur against the shoulder of her tee.
OoOoO
Something tiny and warm punches her in the face, and Bella opens one eye to see that it's Harry, almost glaring at her. Can babies even glare?
She'd been having her favourite childhood nightmare, a green flash of light accompanied by a high laugh, only that this time it had more visuals - her mother's pale face, red hair spread out like flames.
"Harry? How did you get out of your crib?" she asks, a little stupidly, knowing that he can't actually understand. But the inquisitive glance he gives her makes her feel that she's probably not all that stupid for just talking to him.
It's then that she notices he's been crying. There are tear tracks on his face. So she sits up completely, dislodging Sirius' elbow, only then realising that the two of them must have fallen asleep on the sofa, sitting, once again.
How wonderful.
"You all right, love?" she asks picking Harry up and placing him on her thighs. She ignores that arm that Sirius has around her waist.
She kisses the baby on each of his cheeks, before humming the only lullaby she knows. It's one that dear old Luna had taught her, and it's about pixies who steal socks at night.
Harry's eyes slowly droop shut, but she continues rocking him. Has he been having nightmares? She isn't sure if she had nightmares when she was one.
"You croak like a frog," says a voice quietly to her right, and she nearly has a heart attack. She reflexively Accios her wand to her right hand wandlessly.
"Don't give me boils once again," continues the sardonic voice, and she turns to glare at him.
"Ssh, Harry's sleeping," she whispers, and Sirius regards her coolly with his one open eye.
She gets up to put Harry back in his room, deciding to come back and yell at Sirius. He seems to be coherent enough, now, even though it's only half four. How is it he doesn't even have a hangover? It's so bloody unfair!
When she steps into Harry's room, she stops and stares. What!
The crib has disappeared, and there's only a mattress on the floor. So that explains how Harry got out of bed. But accidental magic so soon? Is it an effect of the Horcrux?
"Sirius?" she calls out, and she hears him groaning and grumbling as he shuffles towards her.
"What?" he whispers, when he sees Harry snuggled in her arms. She stands aside and lets him look inside.
"Bloody hell!"
OoOoO
"Muffliato."
"What was that?" asks Sirius, looking at her suspiciously.
"I'm going to yell at you. And I don't want to wake Harry up."
"Ha, I'm way ahead of you. I've charmed his room such that no one from outside can bother him," he says, smiling smugly.
"So wait, if there's a fire and I want to call out to him, he won't be able to hear me?"
"Please, what do you take me for? There are fireproofing wards around the building. And anyway, I doubt he'll understand you."
They're both glaring at each other over the dining table. It looks like the temporary truce that lasted for the past few days has disappeared, just like Harry's crib.
Their conversation has devolved into childish banter.
"Are you going to yell at me anytime soon? I have places to be," he says, tossing his hair back.
Bella clenches her jaw and places her wand on the table, because she's just so frustrated, and she doesn't trust her spell-happy mouth.
Is acting like a jerk a defence mechanism for him?
It strikes her then that it must be. After all, he's lost so much more than her. He's lost half his real family at one go. And yes, she's lost everyone she knows, but her loss feels more distant; his seems more real.
She has to be the adult here. He is but an overgrown child. She won't let him get to her. She resolves to be nice to him.
"Start yelling. I'm waiting."
"I... I'm not going to yell. I just have something to ask you. The next time you go out somewhere, even if it's to get bladdered, please leave me a note saying where you're going and when you'll be back?"
He stares at her with his mouth opening a little, before closing it shut resolutely.
"Okay," he croaks, his eyes guarded. Bella has no idea what's going on in his head.
The silence stretches, and when it becomes almost unbearable, she speaks.
"So Remus and I figured out why I can't perform the spell - "
"Remus told me when I bumped into him," he interrupts.
"You bumped into Remus? Where? At the pub?"
"When he was leaving the flat, actually - "
This time it's Bella who interrupts.
"Hold on. You came all the way here and didn't fucking think of telling me you wanted a night out? H-"
"I thought you weren't going to yell at me," he says, holding his chin aloft and peering down at her through lidded eyes.
She takes in a deep breath, trying to stop herself from continuing her shrieking.
"I'm going to bed now. In your room. You can sleep on the sofa," she says, rising from the table and making her way to the door. Sirius catches her arm as she passes and pulls her back.
"No, you aren't."
"But I want a decent bed and - "
"No. You aren't going to sleep now. I have an idea for your spell problem, and we need to do this right away."
"If you're suggesting Ollivander's, firstly, it's too late - or early, depending on how you see it, and secondly, as I told Remus, no. The wand that'll most likely claim me needs to go to Harry."
"Moony told me. Now will you just listen?"
There's this gritty determination in his eyes, and Bella finds herself sitting back at the dining table, her sleep and annoyance long forgotten. He shares with her his plan, and though she knows he's not telling her everything, she goes with it.
OoOoO
"I'm still not comfortable with having left Kreacher with Harry," Bella whispers as she clutches Sirius' arm. They're inside Lestrange Manor, and they need to be careful so as to not wake the house-elves.
Sirius had entered the estate as Padfoot, and had worked from the inside to allow himself master access to the wards. He'd then led her into the estate, ensuring that they were touching each other, so that the wards recognised Bella as an extension of Sirius, as opposed to recognising her as a separate entity.
She knows this because Sirius had taken the time to haughtily explain his modus operandi as they made their way from the outer wall, past the orchards, to the set of buildings.
"What other choice did we have? It's not like your mystical Godmother was around to help, was she?" Sirius asks, his voice too close to her under the Invisibility Cloak.
The cloak was Bella's idea. That was pretty much her only contribution to the 'plan'.
"May be McGonagall. Or Dumbledore. I dunno. But definitely not Kreacher," she says, being as emphatic as possible as she whispers.
"You think McG will approve of us breaking and entering into a house full of Condemned and Dark objects? And also, you can let go of my arm, now. We're through the wards."
She glares at him in the darkness and lets go. He could have told her to let go five minutes back, but he hadn't. He's such a prick.
"Right, so where are we going?"
"The West wing. I remember Andy telling me that that's where Bella stored the wands of the people she defeated in duels."
"Will you stop calling her Bella? I'm Bella. Call her Bellatrix!" she whisper-yells at him, thoroughly annoyed at how he's using her name to refer to that bitch.
"Isobel, shush. There's no point in having Bellatrix's rabid house-elves on us."
So Bella focuses on studying the silverware and antiques displayed proudly in glass cabinets, trying to see if Hufflepuff's cup is there. That would be a complete bonus. But as usual, luck isn't on her side. The cup must be in the Lestrange vault, then.
Ten minutes later, they're standing in a room off the library, where there is a rack with five shelves. And each shelf seems to have around fifteen boxes, going by the light from her wand.
"Each of these boxes has a wand?" Bella asks, keeping her voice low, despite the Muffliato charm she's cast.
"Bellatrix collects trophies of her victims. People she's killed, tortured or defeated. She takes their wands as a souvenir."
Bella feels sick. And she is so glad that that psychopath will soon be in Azkaban. She deserves to be Kissed by the dementors. May be Augusta Longbottom can rally enough people on the Wizengamot to get Bellatrix Kissed?
"How many of these are the wands of people she's murdered?" she asks quietly.
"No idea, love, but remember she's killed way more Muggles than wizards." The last part is said with revulsion.
Bella turns to look him in the eye, to see that he's staring at her. She can't read his expression.
"So what next?" she asks him. Long silences at half five in the morning, especially in Lestrange Manor, feel a little eerie.
"What wand did you have earlier?"
"First a holly and phoenix feather one. Later, a hawthorn one. And at last, a wand made of elder." She doesn't want to tell him that she owns - no, owned - THE Elder Wand. She'll probably tell him that if he proves himself trustworthy. Or maybe she won't tell him, ever. She doesn't know.
"Elder wands bring bad luck," he mutters quietly, and Bella raises her wand to shine the light right into his eyes. He flinches.
"I'm holding one."
He gives her a wry smile. "I know."
It's an hour later, and the sky outside is lightening. And Bella hasn't felt an affinity towards any particular wand, though she's able to cast some of the new spells that Sirius just taught her.
"You know what would be helpful?" she says, as she puts a flexible mahogany wand back inside. "A bloody index of what box has what wand."
A wand clatters to the floor, and she turns to her right to see that Sirius has dropped the wand he was putting back into its box. They're both sitting cross-legged on the floor.
"You're a genius!"
Bella narrows her eyes at him, but he has already sprung up, and is searching for something in the chest of draws.
"Fuck this," he says, whipping his wand out of his wand holster. Bella once again takes a moment to admire the invisible holster. Now where can she get one like that?
"Accio Bellatrix's wand catalogue."
A rattling sound comes to Bella's left and she nearly jumps her skin.
"Open the cupboard," he says, and when she does, a thick black book comes flying out.
"What's that?"
"A list of all the wands she's collected. I should have thought of it earlier. Only Bellatrix is insane enough to take pride in this."
"Take pride?" Bella asks, a little uncertainly.
"Bellatrix wanted her affinity to be wandlore, when she was younger. It makes sense that she's categorised it."
Bella has no idea how to respond to that, so she says nothing.
OoOoO
"That catalogue... It can be used as evidence against her, right?" Bella asks, as she makes scrambled eggs.
Sirius is right behind her, surprisingly helping her with breakfast, though it's her day today. He's making tea, because for some reason, all the coffee powder has disappeared over the past couple of days.
"Yes, it can, when the official Auror investigation happens, I'll ensure the book is found."
"When are you going back to work?"
"Moody gave me the month off, though I applied only for fifteen days."
Bella drops the spatula and turns to look at him.
"You thought you'd be okay to get back to work just two days after the funeral? Really?" she asks him incredulously.
He turns his face away, and seems to be too interested in the Earl Grey leaves.
"It's okay to not be okay," she says gently, remembering what her Sirius had told her after the Triwizard Tournament.
"I'm fine," he bites out, and she reaches out to him to hesitantly touch his arm.
"It's not your fault. Quit beating yourself up about it. It was meant to happen. And when some things are meant to happen, they will happen. There's nothing you could have done. If not Peter, Voldemort would have found a different way to hunt down Harry."
"He was hunting down Harry?" Sirius' eyes snap up to hers, and she realises that he doesn't know about the prophecy.
"I'm not sure if Voldemort's reasons are the same here, but it was prophesised in my thread that someone born as the seventh month dies is the one who'll defeat the Dark Lord. I think there's a prophecy here too."
"Do you think Dumbledore knows about it?" he asks, anger slowly creeping into his eyes.
"Why else did you think my mum and dad went into hiding?"
"And I let them down," he says softly. His knuckles are turning white from gripping the spoon tightly.
She moves closer to him and says, "I don't think you let them down, but there's nothing I can do to make you change your mind. You'll only be letting them down if you aren't there for Harry.
"You come home drunk now, it doesn't matter. But what about when Harry gets older? He'll notice. And he'll wonder why you do it, and he'll think that maybe it's his being around that depresses you so."
"Harry is the most important thing to me right now," he says fiercely, and she raises her hand to run her thumb on his cheekbone.
"Then start acting like it."
His eyes flutter shut and his long eyelashes touch his high cheekbones. It's so unfair that long eyelashes and high cheekbones are wasted on a guy, when a girl would appreciate those features on herself much more.
When he opens his eyes, they're more blue, than grey and his pupils are dilated. Bella thinks she can recognise the emotion. It's desire.
And suddenly she realises how small the room is, and how close they are to one another. She drops her hand from his face.
She racks her brain to come up with something that'll break this weird tension between them.
"Umm, want to help me practice the Grace spell after breakfast gets over?" she asks, and Sirius steps away as if she'd just slapped him.
"I-I don't want to spend time with you," he says, his eyes wild, before he rushes out of the kitchen.
Bella squashes down that tiny prick of hurt as she hears his door slam shut.
It's only when the smell gets stronger that she realises that she's burnt the eggs. But it doesn't matter, 'cause she doesn't feel all that hungry anymore.
OoOoO
Bella is just finishing sealing the envelope when she hears the bedroom door open. Sirius comes to stand behind her, but she ignores his presence. He's a fecking dickwad.
"Hey," he says, but she ignores him.
On the front of the envelope, she proceeds to write the sender's name with her Bic Cristal. She waits for the inevitable explosion.
"Why are you sending a letter to Snivellus!" Sirius screeches, and Bella turns around wearily in her chair, keeping her hand on the envelope. She doesn't want Sirius burning the letter on an impulse; it was a hard letter to write.
"It's an invitation to the funeral."
"I won't have him there at James' funeral, laughing as James' coffin is lowered into the ground!"
"But it's not just James' funeral, is it? It's also Lily's. And Snape and my mum were best friends, before your constant bullying ruined that. So shut up and get lost."
"What kind of a daughter are you, inviting a Death Eater to your parents' funeral?" he sneers.
"The kind of daughter who follows her mother's last wishes. She explicitly asked for this in the letters she left me. And I'm not denying her or Snape. He deserves the closure," she says, standing.
"He called your mother a Mudblood!" he exclaims, but all Bella can think of is Snape asking her to look him in the eye one last time.
"Look me in the eye, Potter," he chokes out, as the silvery liquid stops flowing out of his orifices.
"Lily," he breathes, as Bella looks into his stone black eyes, before his eyes glaze over, the light of life dying out.
"You don't know the half of it. He's not a bad person. I'm not saying he's good. But he's not bad either," she says, trying to keep her voice from shaking.
"He was up to his eyeballs trying to merge Condemned and Dark Magic. He's the definition of evil."
"And you and my father calling him 'Snivellus' and hanging him upside down for everyone to see his boxers was not evil in the least, was it?" she yells, even as she hears Harry beginning to bawl.
"He called your mother a Mu-"
"Don't you dare lie to me. That happened after you and my father did this. I've seen the whole thing in Snape's memories. You and my father were nothing but pathetic bullies, thinking you owned the ground you walked on. You were despicable, goading Snape like that."
"Who do you think -"
"Don't try to feed me bullshit, Black," she interrupts, walking to the living room, where Hedwig is perched. She shrinks the envelope and ties it to her leg, before opening the window. Hedwig nips her finger affectionately, and hoots angrily at Sirius, before flying out.
She hears Sirius trying to placate Harry in his room, so she goes to Sirius' room instead, banging the door shut. She locks the door and throws herself onto the bed, preparing herself for a good crying session.
However, she's too angry, and she ends up playing with her new wand, throwing it up and catching it again. It's ten inches long, is made of holly and has a unicorn hair core. Funnily, it's a perfect mix of the two wands that she'd owned in her original thread.
"Ignis Gratia," she whispers, watching the white spark blossom from the tip of her wand, before shaking her hand to make it disappear. The spell feels a lot like the Patronus charm,, and gives the same warmth. It feels pure and sacred, almost holy.
She thinks of the proud smile that Remus had given her when she finally managed to produce the Fire of Grace earlier this afternoon. He is such a lovely human being; why can't Sirius aspire to be more like his werewolf friend?
She starts feeling drowsy, as the light outside starts fading. In her last moments of consciousness, she notices a floor length mirror standing in the corner.
Weird. How come she's never seen it before?
OoOoO
When she finally wakes up, heart pounding, it's to find a pair of arms wrapped around her and she knows she's safe. She's not on the run; she's at home.
"Thanks," she says, though her voice sounds hoarse, like she's been screaming. She probably has.
"It's okay," he mutters, and Bella remembers their less than pleasant day, though breaking into Lestrange Manor, all said and done, was fun.
She doesn't move her face away from his shoulder, even as she realises she's sitting on his lap, much like the other day. She craves the warmth, the human touch.
"What time is it?" she asks, as she tries not to move.
"5:45. In the morning."
"Hmmm," she says, as she takes a deep breath. Sirius smells like oranges and soap, and it's addictive.
"How's Harry?" she asks, as the silence stretches on. She still feels sleepy.
"He didn't go to sleep all that easily. I think he likes you putting him to bed."
"Sorry," she says, finally moving back a little to look him in the face.
"For what?" he asks, peering at her in the semi-darkness. It looks like the lights are on outside.
"For leaving you to deal with Harry."
"That's alright, love."
Does that mean everything is okay between the two of them, seeing as he called her 'love'?
It's then that she notices that his hair is slightly wet, and that he's wearing a fancy white dress shirt.
"You had a bath?" she asks, as his eyes linger on her face.
"You need to have one too. We'll have to leave by seven and get the papers signed."
"What papers?"
"The death certificate and some other documents."
"Oh," she says, not knowing what else to say. The way his voice broke slightly when he said 'death certificate' makes her want to hug him tightly and never let go.
So she does half of that; she hugs him tightly.
His arms around her tighten imperceptibly, just as a bell starts chiming.
"What on Earth?" she asks.
"That's an alarm I added to Harry's room. To let us know when he's awake," he says, his arms letting her go.
Bella moves away from Sirius slowly, not wanting to lose the warmth.
"Where's that mirror that was here yesterday?" she asks, noticing that the mirror had disappeared.
"Occulus Revelio. There, you can see it now."
"Wandless magic? Wow," she says, remembering how Voldemort himself had struggled with wandless magic.
"I know, right?" he asks, his voice devoid of its characteristic smugness.
OoOoO
Bella's standing in front of the floor length in Sirius' room, running a critical eye over the dress. She has no idea why she bought it, seeing as she really doesn't like it. But then, she doesn't have to like the funeral clothes; it's better that she dislikes them.
There's a knock on the door as she turns sideways to inspect the keyhole back. She's disillusioned her bra straps, but she isn't sure if the spell will last for the next few hours.
"I have your robes," comes Sirius' voice, so she sighs and waves her wand to open the door.
He walks up right behind her, and their gazes meet in the mirror. It's reminiscent of the moment they shared at Madam Malkin's.
He keeps staring at her and that forces Bella to ask him her what's been bothering her the most.
"Does it look that bad?"
"No," he says, after looking her over once in the mirror, as if he hasn't done that already. "Beautiful, in fact."
Bella sees her own face turn pink in the mirror,
He hold out the white robes and she slips her arms in, as he helps it over her shoulder. On the white fabric, over her left breast, there's a potter's wheel stitched in dark green silk.
"Is that the Potter family sigil?" she asks, knowing that there's a larger one stitched onto the back of her robes.
"Do you know how it came to be a potter's wheel?"
"Umm, no?" she says, slightly amused. There was a story behind her family sigil?
"In the twelfth century, there was a man named Linfred who lived in the village of Stinchcombe in Gloucestershire. He was thought to be eccentric and absent minded, and was always pottering around, making new potions, growing new ingredients and conducting experiments. He was nicknamed the Potterer by the inhabitants of the village. Over time, he changed his surname to Potter and changed his family sigil to a potter's wheel from that of a wolf.
"So that's how your family sigil turned out to be a potter's wheel."
His breath is so close to her cheek, and she thinks he's going to kiss her cheek. And she wouldn't mind it, in the least. There's something about him which makes her want to just melt.
"Isobel?"
"Yeah," she says, turning to look at him, because his voice sounds vulnerable. And, she wants to see his eyes, not in the mirror, but for real.
"I noticed only yesterday that your ears are pierced. And no Dark lady goes outside with pierced ears without earrings."
"Oh," she says, trying to not notice how close he is to her. She wants to push his hair back from his face and wants to run her fingers down his strong jaw. But she doesn't do any of that.
"I had Kreacher get you these from my mother's jewellery collection. I'm sure she won't notice."
Bella looks down to see that it's the a pair of tiny pearl earrings, with a lining made of goblin gold.
"They're too much," she says, a little hollowly. Because damn, they're pretty.
"They're yours now."
She turns around to face the mirror and puts them on, one after the other, all the while not breaking eye contact with Sirius.
"Beautiful indeed," he murmurs, moving closer, his hand on her shoulder, before he lets go and asks, "Coming?"
Bella nods her head and follows him out, to see Harry on his highchair, playing with a rubber Snitch.
She drops a kiss on his head and picks him up, as Sirius comes up next to her, her wand holster in his hand. He ties it around her arm for her, and Bella tries not to notice how his fingers trail down her arm when he's done.
Soon, they're standing outside the building, breathing in the chilly London air.
"You ready?" he asks, looking into her eyes.
"You all right?" she asks in response, knowing that the answer to both their questions is 'no'. She's scared that she'll mess up the spell; she feels just the way she did before her DADA OWL practicals.
She holds Harry tightly with her left arm as she grips Sirius' hand in her right hand - her hand fits perfectly into his - and the last thing she notices before she feels like they're sucked into a black pipe is how mesmerising Sirius' eyes are.
OoOoO
§
AN:
Yup, Sirius is immune to hangovers, like me. (I'm a lucky bitch.)
I made a typo in the previous chapter's AN. If you've reviewed from chapters 1 to 7, you get a preview or a spoiler. If you review from 8 to 14, you get another one, and so on. So, basically, for every 7 reviews (though I might change it to 10), you get either a spoiler or a preview.
Vous pouvez choisir. :)
As of now, anyone who's left at least 4 reviews gets a preview. (I'm a nice person.) I'll PM you if you're in the running.
Milly, thanks for reading, despite finding it a little weird. (:
If I haven't already replied to your review, I'll do it by Monday, at the latest.
Thanks for reading, reviewing, favouriting, following and adding this story to 12 communities. *Awestruck*
I'll do my best to update by March 31st, 2016.
I'm a review whore, so please do leave one behind!