A/N at end

A room with a view

I sit quietly, playing with the sleeve ends of the slightly worn leather jacket I'm still wearing. The owner of the jacket hasn't said another word since leaving the town, and I begin to grow uneasy in the silence. Conversation is an art, I hear my mother's voice say in my head. Always take an interest in what people have to say – yes Analeigh, no matter how dull. It may come in handy later. She is always good at small talk, remembering little details about people, as if to prove to them that she cares. And as little as I want to converse with the stranger to my right, I have a million questions buzzing around in my mind that need to be answered – or at least voiced. With that, I blurt out the one foremost in my mind – "What's happened to my parents?"

When he doesn't reply, I continue.

"Are they after them as well?" I don't exactly know who they are, but I figure Sirius will know what I mean. His jaw clenches, but I press on.

"When will I see them again? Are you protecting them too?"

At that, he turns his gaze from the road for a few seconds to meet my eyes, and I can see that they are guarded, grey chips of steel.

"After a fashion, yes" he finally replies, not looking at me.

"What does that mean?"

He lets out a puff of breath, and I see his fingers are clenched as well as his jaw now.

"Didn't I tell you you'd find out at headquarters? Stop asking questions."

I realise I have been too blunt. He won't answer my straight-up questions about anything important. But any information is good information, Analeigh, no matter how insignificant it may initially seem, my mother's voice says again. It's not for nothing that she became a politician's wife. I stare out of the window for a moment, watching the stone walls rush by. Half of the sky is still a deep blue, but I can just make out the edges of some of the hills that the Lake District is famous for. Were I here for any other reason other than the one I am, it would be beautiful. As it is though…I turn to face Sirius again. He looks a bit more relaxed, and I gulp, take a deep breath and ask in my most polite voice, "How old are you?"

He seems genuinely surprised by the question, taking a quick look at my face to check if I really just asked that. There's a pause, as he seems to weigh up the pros and cons of answering, before opening his mouth to reply, "I turn 20 this autumn".

"I…thought you'd be older", I blurt out without thinking. That sounded rude. I try to cover my slip-up. "I mean, to be doing this kind of thing…" I trail off awkwardly.

He smiles slightly, a crooked thing, lifting only one corner of his mouth, and it makes him seem even younger.

"Wizards and witches come of age at 17. I dunno, maybe we just grow up faster", he says.

17? My brain is going haywire. Think of all the 17 year olds you know, and imagine them as certified adults. The thought is too alarming to ponder on for long. I suppose there's not much difference between 17 and 18. But in the States you only properly come of age at 21, and that's quite a difference.

I raise my head to ask another question and find he's looking at me out of the corner of his eye, still smirking. "Don't look so scandilised," he says lazily. "I'm very responsible."

At first I want to scoff yeah right, but then my mind goes back to the Camden alleyway, and I realise it might be true. Both he and his friend seem…older than their age.

"That guy, James was it?" I venture quietly. "Who was with you in the alleyway…he's your friend, right?"

"Yeah. We're more than friends though, practically brothers. He's…helped me a lot…out of bad situations and stuff".

I let his evasion pass, and ask lightly,

"Do you have an actual brother?"

I'm only curious, but his face changes instantly from relaxed and mildly amused to hard stone, and I'm thinking crap, nice one Analeigh because I've obviously put my foot in it, even though I don't know what it is.

"No." he replies through gritted teeth, and I sense that our brief conversation is over.

Not long after, we turn off the country road onto an even narrower lane, and I can tell we are almost there. I can't watch the sunrise anymore, as the sky has been blocked in by gloomy grey clouds, and there's a heavy drizzle drifting down. The vague sense of calm that pervaded my mind for the first part of the car journey is swiftly being replaced by the familiar taste of panic in the back of my mouth, and by the time we turn through a stone gateway and onto a snaking drive, my heart is thumping so loudly I'm sure it must be audible. What do they want? What are they going to do to me? Who are THEY? My mind is racing and I'm wringing my hands anxiously and it's all I can do not to leap out of the car while it's moving and run for the hills. It's pointless though, they'd catch you.

"Stop panicking, it's ridiculous"

His voice snaps me out of my train of thought, and I look at him blankly, not sure I heard him correctly.

"Pardon?"

"Calm down. I can practically smell your fear."

And now I'm angry, because with all the events that have led to this point since that bar in Camden, I'm fairly sure my freaking out is not ridiculous.

"What are you, a dog or something?" I sneer at him. It's a weak insult and he knows it. He barks a short humourless laugh, and I think perhaps there's more truth to it than I thought.

"Maybe" he replies, turning to me with a wolfish grin that makes me lose all my new-found bravery.

However, I'm spared from having to reply, as we pull up outside a large manor house. It looks like it could have been handsome once, but has long since suffered from neglect and disrepair. Vines cover a large part of the front face, and the roof is sagging slightly. In fact, I'm initially surprised that it's still inhabitable, but peering closer I notice – the house doesn't look quite right. For one thing, there are several towers and extensions branching waywardly from the walls and roof. I look for beams or pillars, something supporting the structures, but there are none – it's like a child has stuck them on to the house using glue. Not glue, I think. Magic. They must be using something to keep this place from falling down, and I'm pretty sure it's not bricks and mortar. I strongly suspect that whoever lived at Denwood House before magic took over would find the place unrecogniseable now.

Sirius is watching my amazed reaction as we get out of the car, his brow furrowed. "What?" I say rudely, still somewhat piqued about his "ridiculous" comment from earlier.

"The anti-Muggle charms obviously don't work on you, then" he replies, still with a puzzling look on his face.

I don't understand what he means, but there's no time to think on it before he has me by the elbow and is dragging me through the rather imposing front door and in from the rain.

We are barely through the door before Sirius is mobbed by a figure that comes sprinting from one of the side rooms.

"THERE you are! Took you long enough mate, I was about to get a search party together!"

It's James, and as I see Sirius and he clapping each other on the back and grinning, I think to myself "practically brothers".

"What are you talking about, Prongs, we're right on schedule!" Sirius shoots back.

"Is Dumbledore here?"

"Nah, he's been delayed…"

Turning to me, James extends his hand, grinning openly.

"Sorry I didn't get a chance to introduce myself before, was a bit busy with a Death Eater," He laughs again, and I see Sirius looking at me, trying to gauge my reaction to the strange word. "I'm James Potter", he continues.

Somewhat on autopilot, I'm vaguely aware of shaking his hand and nodding, not quite capable to get words out as I continue to look around the interior of the house. We're in a long hallway with a marble floor and two proper chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. When I look more closely, I see that they have real candles in them, not just candle-shaped bulbs. Do magic people not use electricity?

"Honestly James, don't frighten her"

The new voice rings from a large double-doorway off to the left of the hallway, as a girl emerges and walks towards us. She's a bit shorter than me, with long swishing red hair and startling green eyes, and I'm suddenly very aware of the makeup running down my face and my hair plastered to my head by the rain.

"I'm not", says James indignantly, putting his arm around her shoulders as she nears.

"I'm Lily Evans," says the girl. She seems to notice my pitiful attempt at a smile, and reaches forward to take one of my hands, squeezing it gently in a surprisingly comforting gesture. "Come in to the kitchen and have something to eat, you must be exhausted. Gideon and Fabian brought some of Molly's stew with them, we can have that."

And with that she leads me through the double-doorway from which she came, watching me closely all the while, as if worried I might burst into tears. I would, if I could summon the energy. The kitchen is a large, cavernous space, but is made warm by the roaring fire under the chimney at the centre of the back wall. By the fireplace stand two men, and at first glance I think they are twins. Both have the same large nose, red hair and freckles, though as I look more closely I can see that one is slightly taller, the other of a stockier build, and I am not surprised when Lily introduces them as brothers.

"Fabian and Gideon Prewett" she says, as they step forward and shake my limp hand in turn. As the taller one, Fabian, is letting go of my hand, he notices the edges of the bandages on my forearm poking out from the sleeve of the leather jacket I'm still wearing.

"Is that where…?"

He doesn't finish his sentence, but he doesn't need to because behind me Sirius is nodding gravely. My blood. This all has something to do with my blood. I remember the man who tasted it in the alleyway, and the thought weighs on my mind as Fabian turns to me and says gently,

"Why don't you let me dress that properly for you, Analeigh"

He gestures to the bandages on my arm. Looking down at it and rolling up the jacket sleeve, I realise it is still a mess, covered in dried blood – Sirius didn't clean any of the blood away before bandaging it back on the bus. God that feels like decades ago. His brother, Gideon, is ladling some of the stew into two bowls.

I nod weakly, and let him lead me to the long table that takes up the centre part of the kitchen and sit down. As he peels off the bandages, I am suddenly conscious that the whole kitchen has gone quiet, as if holding a collective breath. The only noise now is the crackling of the fire in the grate, and I look around to see everyone casting meaningful looks first at each other, then at my arm and the ugly gash that is now on full display there. Sirius sits down, a bit further away across the table with James, and Lily places a bowl of stew in front of us, taking a seat opposite me. The room is still quiet, and to distract myself from the slight stinging of my arm, I use my free hand to spoon some stew into my mouth. Lily continues to watch me like I might either faint or explode, her eyes flicking repeatedly from my face to my arm and back.

The stew warms my body, and I start to feel the first prickles of anger in my throat.

Blood. It always comes back to my blood. What are they looking at me like that for? I've had enough.

"Would somebody please tell me what exactly is going on?" I demand, though I try to keep the frustration out of my tone. I see them all glance around at each other again. No one says anything. I turn my glare to Sirius, who freezes with his spoon midway to his mouth.

"You promised me answers when we got here" I say accusingly. He glares back at me challengingly, and seems about to say something, but he doesn't get the chance.

"We want to explain, we really do," Lily bursts out, "but we promised to not say anything until Professor Dumbledore has had the chance to speak to you himself".

Seeing my confusion, she continues, "Dumbledore's kind of the leader of all of this – he would be here now, but he was delayed on some…business with Moody – uh…another one of our members – but he should be here by this afternoon."

I'm looking at her doubtfully. What kind of a name is Dumbledore? And Moody? Is this some kind of religious cult? But again, I remember back to the strangers in the alleyway, and think that it could possibly be a whole lot worse.

Silence reigns again. They seem to be waiting for my reaction. Well this is awkward. I look around; give a small nod of acquiescence, and collapse somewhat defeatedly back into my seat.

Fabian pats my arm gently, and I realise that he's completely cleaned the wound and changed the bandage. I didn't even realise. I murmur thanks, clinging to the familiarity of manners in this sea of strangeness. He smiles at me gently, and this seems to break the spell, as Sirius turns to James saying "Oh yeah I forgot to ask – what did happen to Moody? I heard he fought off another attack a couple of days ago…"

"Mmm I was going to tell you about that. Come on" says James, standing up, and he and Sirius disappear from the kitchen. Lily is moving around and yawning, clearing my empty bowl and Sirius' from the table with a lazy flick of her wand, and I am once again astounded by how little I react to it. It'll hit me later. Gideon and Fabian are talking over by the fire again, and Lily turns to me, saying "Come on, you must be exhausted. We have a room ready for you".

She takes me gently by the arm as I leave my seat, thinking that a bed sounds pretty good right now. Even if it is in the headquarters of a cult.

"I've bought a few necessities for you, just toiletries and stuff," Lily continues, and I look at her, surprised by her thoughtfulness. It could be an act though. The warning cuts through my weary brain like a knife. Don't be fooled so easy. You still don't know what they want with you.

"It's just until we can get some of your things…" she trails off as we begin to climb the imposing staircase at the end of the entrance hallway. She was obviously about to reveal something. My things? How long do they want me to stay here? I frown at her as the banister curves around to bring us to a landing. There's a corridor here, and I can see several doors leading off of it.

"Don't worry," she says quickly. She seems to be saying that a lot. "Dumbledore will explain. You'll like him, he's very kind"

I'm not so sure, but I push it to the back of my mind. Even if they do want to keep me here, I can escape, I reason to myself. But first I need to sleep, or I won't make it far.

It seems like we're climbing forever, but we finally emerge from the last staircase (which was somewhat smaller and more rickety than the others further down) onto a landing with two doors.

"This here is yours," says Lily, pointing to the door closest to the staircase, "and over there is a bathroom you can use. It's not much, but it should be comfortable enough". She leads me into the bedroom. It's small, with a fairly low ceiling and wooden beams running across it. To the left of the doorway is a bed, too large to be a single, but not large enough for a double. It's made up with a white blanket and a tartan quilt, and every fiber of my body wants to curl up in it and never leave. There's an armoire by the bed, and on the other side of the room, by the large window, a very small writing table with an old chair. In the centre of the back wall there's even a small fireplace, with embers glowing softly in the dim light.

"Thank you", I say to Lily, and in that moment I really do mean it. She smiles,

"It's nothing. I've put some soap and stuff in the bathroom for when you want to use it"

She gestures to a huge T-shirt lying on the bed. "You can sleep in that if you want…I don't think any of my clothes will fit you very well…I could try to get some of the boys things, they'll be too big, but…"

I look down at my bloodstained dress and decide that I really want to keep something of my own with me in these foreign surroundings.

"It's alright," I reply quickly, "I'll just wear this again". Lily looks at the dress uncertainly.

"Well, at least let me try to get some of the blood out. I know a really good spell for that…"

She turns around while I change into the T-shirt, which hangs down to my mid-thighs, scrunches up my stained dress in her hands and smiles again.

"Try to get some rest, you've had a rough time. Dumbledore will be here when you wake up, I think" She looks like she wants to say something else, pauses in the doorway, then seems to think better of it and closes the door behind her. I hear her footsteps retreat down the rickety staircase, and am left to my thoughts.

It's been almost 36 hours since I last slept properly, but I can't resist going to the window. I move across the room as if in a dream. Despite the rain, I can tell that the grounds of Denwood House are incredibly beautiful. This is one of those glued-on tower rooms I saw before we came in, I think to myself, though this must be the back of the house, as I can't see the drive. Instead, there is a small stretch of patio directly below my window; and after that, a sort of wild garden that extends far away from the house, ending when it meets the start of thick woods. A room with a view. It looks like something from Jane Eyre. I stop that thought abruptly. Don't romanticise. You have to find out what they want first – this place could be a prison. I shut the thick curtains sharply, and drag myself back to the bed and under the covers. Something scratches my face, and I realise it is the zip of Sirius' leather jacket, lying next to me on the bed where I chucked it while changing. I'll return it to him later is my last coherent thought, before falling asleep to the morning song of the birds on the grounds.

A/N: Phew writing dialogue is exhausting! Sorry this chapter is so long - I had it in my head to reach a certain point of events before the end of it, and dialogue takes up so much time and space! I know it's a bit uneventful as well, but I really wanted to lay down some breadcrumbs for things that will be important later on ;) Thank you to my first reviewer!

Please review if you have the time - they make my day and constructive criticism is welcome!

Disclaimer: I only own Analeigh and other things you don't recognise - the rest is J.K. Rowling

BF xx