A/N: Thank you for the reviews! Enjoy this chapter - and can I just say, for yesterday, Happy Canada Day if you are from 'The True North Strong and Free' as one of my Canadian friends puts it, and Happy Independence Day for Monday, if you are American.

Chapter Twenty Three

"Maybe we're going about this the wrong way," Lily announced suddenly one evening.

They were cuddled together on the sofa, fire in the grate and both reading; Lily Beadle the Bard and James Moby Dick.

"Going about what the wrong way?" he asked absently.

"Helena and Padfoot. Maybe we should be getting her to confess how she feels. Might be easier."

James cast a doubtful look at his fianceé. "You have met her haven't you? Besides, at least Padfoot knows how he feels, even if he's being obstinate. Helena has no idea."

"She does though."

"Of course she does. Just look at the way she lights up when he comes into the room. She loves him. And they need each other. She'll definitely need him soon, even if she only loves him at the moment."

Lily nodded. "She's still suspicious, you know. And you have to admit the explanations we've been giving her aren't exactly watertight."

"Are we doing the right thing at all," he asked, "keeping it from her?"

"I don't know," she said honestly. "I don't want her to find out. It's not worth the risk. What would knowing offer her?"

"The truth?" James shrugged. "It might be enough for her. It doesn't have to be taken any further, and if we assume she reacted the way she did because she was afraid of putting us in harm's way…really, her not knowing is putting us in harm's way. The Death Eaters don't care that she doesn't know, they're coming after her anyway, and us by extension. We can't tell her to be even more careful with no real reason, maybe she'd understand if she knew the real reason."

He was watching Helena sleep again. Not intentionally, but she was lying there looking so calm and peaceful that it was difficult to actually look away. And whenever he closed his eyes, he wasn't sure if her eyes then opened, and it seemed…rude not to look at her as well. It was the fault of the summer as well, of course. August had been long and very sultry, and even this time of night it was scorching hot and incredibly still, the promise of thunder clinging like a second skin. It was definitely the right season for romance. If he cared about romance of course. Which he didn't.

A wonderfully cool breeze suddenly stirred the room, banishing any such ridiculous thoughts. Carefully, so as not to wake her, he manouevred Helena out of his arms and shut his eyes resolutely. She wasn't that incredible she was worth missing out on sleep for. He cracked open an eye. Nope. Not that beautiful.

He was about to close his eyes again when a silvery-white glow came from the window, and flew in from the window, perching on the bed-head. He glanced sharply at Helena. Her eyes were still closed and her breathing was steady. He looked again at the Patronus. It looked calmly back. Was she doing that in her sleep?

The bird opened its beak. And proceeded to recite the leading story from the Prophet. Word for word. When it was finished, there was a pause of about five seconds. Then without opening her eyes Helena smiled and said, "I told you I could do it before the wedding."

The Patronus faded as she looked at him finally. She smiled smugly. "Hmm, you look as if someone ghasted your flabber, Padfoot."

"I'm impressed, Hellfire," he managed.

"I should hope so."

"I don't- When did you even cast that?'

"Before you had your wicked way with me," she grinned. "Half my attention was on that, unfortunately, but oddly enough orgasm enhanced the effect. It was easy, in fact, with all the happy rushing around my system."

He eyed her in continuing amazement. "There's nothing wrong with my memory, is there—because I remember you not being that great at Charms, much less doing something impossible with them."

She shrugged. "I wasn't. But I've gotten better."

He frowned momentarily. Yes, she had gotten better, but at a lot of things recently. Not just her Charms, but her potions too, had become almost flawless every time, the first time around, some of them. When she'd told him that her very first Blood-Replenishing Potion had been an unqualified success, it had struck him as odd then too, and now this. To do it perfectly while she was doing something else—and to do it so quickly? That was bordering on impossible.

"How?"

Her shoulders moved up and down again, but she didn't seem concerned, only eager to move onto the next step. "So am I ready for actual transformation now?"

"Well…you're closer to it anyway."

"So…?"

"Alright, we'll start tomorrow. You sure you've got a full grasp of what it's like to be inside your patronus?'

"Yes."

"Alright then. It's not just leaping straight into the transformation though, you should know that."

"Then what is it?"

"Exploring everything."

She frowned. "I thought I already had."

"With your imagination," he elaborated. "You have to list all of the aspects of the falcon and then imagine doing them until you know how to. So hunting, flying-"

"How I am supposed to know how to fly until I actually do so?"

"The same way I learned to run on four legs instead of two. Imagine it." It was vital she understand this. Animagus transformations were impossible if you didn't have imagination.

Helena nodded thoughtfully, apparently seriously considering it. "Well, I can't ask for a teacher and ignore his advice, can I? Alright, imagination it is."

"It won't take you long."

"Of course not."

"There's got to be more to it, I'm telling you."

Finishing his sandwich, James wiped his mouth with a paper serviette. "Evidence?"

They were sat on a bench in St James's Park, having decided to make the best of the last sunshine of the year and taken their lunch break outside the ministry. Sirius had a BLT next to him, still in its wrapper. He wasn't hungry.

"She's just gotten better," he exclaimed. "All of a sudden, without warning, it's almost like her magic has increased. Like she's become a more powerful witch."

"That's impossible."

"Yeah, except if subconsciously…"

James pushed his glasses up and squinted at his best friend. "Subconsciously?"

"What if she knows?"

"She doesn't."

"Yeah, but what if some part of her does? Voldemort's an evil bastard but he's got power in shit-loads. Stands to reason his daughter would too."

"What, so your theory is that while there weren't Death Eaters coming after her, she had some kind of block on her true power, and now that her life's in danger that block's gone?"

"In a nutshell."

"And of course you're worried she's going to get suspicious about that."

"Yes."

"And you think she's intelligent enough to come to the same conclusion you have."

"I know she is."

"And you think if she does you'll lose her."

Sirius glared. "Yes."

"And you don't want to do that."

"No."

"Because you love her."

"Ye- No!" he yelled, shooting to his feet. "Merlin's beard, Prongs, would you give it a rest? I get it, you and Lily are headed straight for wedded bliss, but maybe it's not for the rest of us, okay?"

James looked incredibly unimpressed. "No, not really."

"What do you want me to say?"

"You don't have to say anything to me, just be bloody honest with yourself, and above all, be honest with Helena!"

"I am honest with her!"

"Then why haven't you told her how you feel?"

"There's nothing to tell!"

"Yes, there is!"

"Why are you so fussed about it?"

"Because life is short, and right now I'm finding reminders of that everywhere I look!"

"Look, I know your dad-"

"You're a Gryffindor, Sirius, so don't start acting like a coward. It doesn't suit you," James said acidly.

"Fuck off!"

"Fine, I will."

He was as good as his word; chucking the crusts of his sandwich into the nearest bin, Prongs stalked across the park without a look backward. Sirius was left to aim a vicious kick at a nearby pigeon, which bobbed out of the way without even the courtesy of being sufficiently frightened to fly off.

He didn't go back into work, which would probably lead to a whole heap of trouble with Mad-Eye, but right now he didn't care. Not once, in seven—almost eight years—of friendship, had he and James ever actually fought, at least not like that. But then it wasn't like the situation wasn't emotionally…fraught, of course. What with Jasper and the wedding and the fucking Death Eaters all the time and Hellfire… Actually, now he came to think about it, it was a wonder they hadn't had a slanging match before now. He should apologise. But then equally surely James should apologise to him. Shouldn't he?

Helena didn't think so, when he gave her the edited version of what had happened later that evening. He'd left out most of the details, of course.

"Padfoot, his father's about to die. My father is dead, and it's not easy to deal with. And for Heaven's sake, I hated my father. James loves his, and he's watching him suffer a very long and very painful death that even magic can't do anything about." She sighed, stirring pasta through a carbonara sauce for dinner. "And you told him to 'fuck off'?"

"He was winding me up!"

"Well not deliberately I'm sure."

"No, this was deliberate."

"Was it?" she asked. "Think about it." When he looked at her blankly, she huffed out another sigh and explained. Her tone indicated she thought it was totally obvious; he thought it was anything but. "Look, you know what it's like when you're all tense about something you can't do anything about, but knowing that doesn't make all the negative emotion go away, does it?"

"I suppose not."

"So it has to find an outlet, and once it does, the floodgates open and it all comes pouring out. He probably isn't even that annoyed at you. He just feels helpless."

"Well he could have picked someone else to let it out on," Sirius muttered.

"Like who? He can't do it to Lily, they're getting married in less than a fortnight and he wouldn't want to drive her away."

"Do me a favour, Hellfire, and stop making sense for one second, would you?"

She smirked and dished up, piling a bowl high with spaghetti and plonking it in front of him. Since he'd missed out on lunch, he ate with gusto and then helped himself to seconds. Once that plate was empty as well, he spoke again. "So what you're saying is I should be more understanding?"

"You should."

"And that I should apologise."

"Give the man a broomstick," she announced, smiling.

"Alright, I will. Thanks, Hellfire."

"Anytime. God knows you need someone to tell you these things."

"Okay, shut up now."

"You know, I don't think I will," she grinned. "You know I like humiliating you at every opportunity."

"Have the Ministry been in contact yet?"

Her smile slid away. "Not yet. I keep expecting an owl any second."

"There are ways we could avoid it you know."

"Like what? Are you suggesting I go on the run?"

"It's a thought." He smiled and shifted his chair closer, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. "How about it? You and me chasing around the globe and going wherever we want, doing whatever we want."

She smiled, but missed that he was only half-joking. "And how would we travel? Broom or floo?"

"Hell, we'd be fugitives so why not carpet?"

Helena chuckled. "Alright, carpet it is. You can ride that and I'll fly alongside."

"Hey, why don't I get to fly?"

"Okay. We'll steal a dragon on the way out of the country."

"Excellent plan."

"I thought so."

"Well, I suppose all that remains is to pack. Care to help me?" she asked, a sly gleam in her blue eyes.

"With pleasure."

With great pleasure, as it turned out—there was nothing quite like damn good sex to shake off the blues of a bad day.

Of course, the bad day came right back when an owl tapped on the window of Helena's bedroom, then hooted plaintively when they failed to let it in immediately.

Helena went tense in his arms, and she swallowed as the owl tapped again. He kissed her. "I wasn't joking. If it is from them, we'll run. I don't care how far."

She got up and walked over to the window, opening it and taking the parchment from the owl, which idn't fly away, and only hopped inside to perch on the sill. It obviously expected an immediate answer. Frowning, Helena opened the scroll. "It's from Lily."

He sat up. "Is she alright? Is Prongs alright?"

"They're both fine, but… Oh no. Jasper passed away earlier. Died in his sleep."

"Shit," he said softly.

"Lily wants us both over there. James…isn't handling it well and she's not sure she can comfort both him and Mrs Potter at the same time. She asks if we can go to Godric's Hollow tomorrow morning."

"Write back and say we'll be there by eight."

She nodded and picked up a quill from her desk, quickly inking a reply and attaching it to the owl. It hooted once more and then took off into the night. She turned back to Sirius with a sad smile. "So much for our plan to run away together."

The wedding had been postponed, seemed to be the first concrete decision. At least it was the first thing to come out of Lily's mouth, though it was immediately countermanded by both James and Mrs Potter.

"It's the last thing Jasper would want you to do, dear," Mrs Potter said, patting Lily's hand.

"Mum's right," James nodded stoically. "It would be the wrong thing to do, completely."

"Cup of tea before anyone makes any decisions, how does that sound?" Helena said forcefully.

She moved over to the kettle and poking it with her wand. It emitted a sharp whistle and a funnel of steam from the spout. For a few moments the only sounds were the clinking of copper spout against chipped mug, and Sirius pouring the milk out. He did it the wrong way of course, putting the milk into the cups before Helena had poured the tea, but no one seemed to mind. Though nobody drank either. Silence wrapped the house like a too-tight blanket, suffocating everyone in their grief.

Lily spoke again. "Sweetheart, I know it's far too early to be thinking about this, but we can't get married until after your father's buried. You have to see that."

"Yeah, yeah I do. Of course I do," he said quickly.

"So we don't really have a choice. It's eight days away, we can't-"

"Then we'll bury him quickly, yeah?"

Mrs Potter burst into loud, noisy sobs, quickly stifled by her handkerchief. Lily stood, but looked immediately torn, between comforting her fiancé and comforting her future mother-in-law. Helena helped her out, taking the grieving widow and rubbing her back in soothing circles. There was nothing she could say to make it better, so she stayed silent and put a shot of Firewhiskey in her tea.

James now had tears in his eyes. "Mum, I- I'm sorry, I didn't mean that- I-It's just-"

Still wordless, she took his hand and squeezed it. The doorbell rang, interrupting the moment of grief, and Helena looked at Sirius, indicated for him to answer it. "What am I supposed to say?' he whispered.

"The truth," she murmured back, eyes full of sadness. "Tell them that the Potters are overcome by the immediacy of the tragedy and that it's too soon for visitors."

"Alright." He kissed her temple, inhaling the comforting scent of her hair for a second before he left to answer the door.

By lunchtime, they'd managed to get Mrs Potter to stop crying, and James to stop lashing out at everything Lily said, though he still did so at Sirius and Helena. They took it, knowing that all he said was spoken out of grief, anger that could not be directed at a dead father. By dinner, which Helena made and which nobody ate, it had been accepted that the wedding must be postponed, by at least a week if not more. Tired by grief and without food to sustain them, both James and his mother feel asleep in their armchairs by ten 'o' clock, faces pale and eyes puffy from crying.

Lily was yawning too, so Helena stood. "We should go."

"Do you have to?"

"There's nowhere for us to sleep here, Lily," she smiled apologetically. "We'll come back tomorrow if you want us to. Just send me an owl and we'll apparate here, okay?"

She nodded and gave them both a tearful kiss on the cheek, then led them outside to the back garden so they could disapparate without disturbing the sleeping Potters. As she shut the door on them, Helena let out a deep sigh. "God, poor Jasper."

"At least his misery is over," Sirius said, though the words sounded hollow even to him. "It's Mrs Potter and Prongs I feel sorry for."

Helena took the main bulk of the tedium that rearranging the wedding details: rebooking the church, the catering, the flowers et cetera took time, as well as the sending out of innumerable owls. She wasn't sure Lily had even noticed that she was doing it, since beyond changing the date to September the twenty second, she had not mentioned the wedding at all.

But then that could be because she's too busy arranging the funeral…Helena thought, tapping her quill idly on the parchment in front of her.

She had contacted most of the wedding guests, and almost all of them had replied saying they understood completely and could still make it. She knew whatever she was doing, Lily was doing the opposite. Instead of postponing an order of flowers, she had been scrambling around trying to find a florist that could provide their services for the funeral of Mr Potter, which was to take place in less than a week now, though in a different church to the one she and James were to get married in.

In those rare moments when she had a spare minute or two to herself, she quickly found that her mind wouldn't settle to relaxation, that it was impossible. The only time she actually found sleep was when she and Sirius had screwed each other into exhaustion. When he wasn't around, or at work, she had to find another way to occupy herself, so she chose her animagus attempts. She was getting better, or at least she thought she was. Sirius had told her to use her imagination, so she had been doing—sitting in the library going over and over in her mind how it would feel to be a bird, and a bird of prey at that. Sirius joked that she was already pretty much a predator, and she thought he could be right. Over the last few days she had been experiencing heightened senses in the oddest moments, especially at work. Wherever there was sickness (or especially blood), she could smell it, and her eyesight had gotten so sharp that she had managed to see a money spider climbing up the shoulder of a wizard in black robes—not unusual, except that she had been twenty feet away, on the other side of the ward. She had also begun to dream of being in flight too, soaring above fields and cliffs that she was sure she had never seen. In the morning when she woke up, the muscles of her shoulders ached as though she'd actually been doing it.

It compounded in the day of Jasper's funeral, as all the guests were arriving in the church. A black-draped James and his mother were greeting most of the guests, or at least shaking hands with them and nodding politely at consolations offered. As they were waiting in the pews for the service to start, Helena's eyes picked up a faint shuffle, just above the general human noise. It was coming from the opposite side of the church, high above the pews and almost in the rafters. Frowning, she looked up, trying to pinpoint where it might be coming from. It was a mouse, tiny and pitter-pattering its way across a stone shelf high on the wall of the church. Once she'd spotted it, it was as if her eyes zoomed it; far from being a tiny, indistinct blob of grey against an equally grey wall, she saw its bright black eyes, its small pink paws and the hints of brown in its fur.

"Helena?"

She could see everything, every hair on its body, the whiskers twitching and nose going this way and that to sense any potential danger.

"Hellfire."

Well, it wouldn't see her coming-

"Helena!"

She drew in a shuddering breath and refocused on Sirius; he looked worried. "Are you alright? You're flushed."

"I- I can see that mouse, over there," she pointed.

"Over where?"

"There, on the shelf. Can't you see it?"

He squinted hard, and finally nodded. "Sort of. Blurry little grey thing."

She shook her head. "No, Padfoot, I mean I can see it. I can see everything about it, I-"

A sudden swell of noise from the people in the church, and whether it actually happened or not she couldn't be sure, since she was overwhelmed by it, sickeningly dizzy and having to clutch at her head, nails digging into her scalp.

"What's the matter, what's wrong?" Sirius looked around, almost as if he expected Death Eaters to be popping up in the middle of almost all of the members of the Order.

She shook her head and gritted her teeth until it passed, which it did presently. She sat up slowly. "Nothing… Nothing, I'm alright. Just had a funny turn."

"A funny turn?" he repeated. "You've gone completely white, you look like a ghost's just walked through you."

"I think-" she looked around and lowered her voice, "I think it's something to do with this animagus thing. I've been doing what you said and it's like I'm becoming more falcon-like. I think I might be ready to try it."

"You're not," he said immediately.

"What's the alternative," she asked, "me doing things like this all the time? I have to try, Sirius, unless you want me to transform in my sleep and give you a thorough clawing. I don't want to do that."

"Well no, I don't want you to either."

"Then let me try. Please."

"Well, okay. But don't blame me if you get stuck halfway."

A/N: Review please!