A/N: I'm sooooooooooooo sorry it took me soooooooooooooo long to get this chapter out! We're moving house and no internet yet :( But it'll only be a couple of weeks and then hopefully we can get things moving properly.

Right, before anyone says it, I have checked, and JK is mum on when exactly Nagini comes into the picture, so let's assume Voldemort has her already, mmmkay?

Thank you so much for all the lovely reviews - enjoy the chapter!

Chapter Twenty Six

Helena was being circled. Not by all of them, thankfully. But by the worst one. When she'd deposited the eviscerated carcass she'd brought with her, the dead woman had turned out to be the paramour of a Death Eater—the man had almost immediately tried to fire a Cruciatus Curse at Helena. It had taken one word from Voldemort to stop him before the spell had left his lips.

Now Helena was quite alone with her father. Wand gone and feeling rather…unafraid. Her heart was pounding, yes, but it wasn't from terror.

Finally, after ten minutes during which he did nothing but pace around her—that bloody snake of his following his every move—he lowered himself into a hard-backed wooden chair (Helena couldn't help making ridiculous comparisons with the ones in McGonagall's office) and indicated for her to do the same. She raised an eyebrow at the oddly courteous gesture, but did so. Another moment of silence, broken only by the crackling of the fire and the snake's soft hissing.

"Who sent you?"

"Dumbledore."

"Why?"

"To spy."

She'd known, somehow, that there would be no point in lying, no point in even attempting to. "And why did you come?"

"Curiosity."

That, too, was true. The situation reminded her of a story Lily had once told her about, called Alice in Wonderland. It had sounded like a muggle girl discovering magic for the first time to her, but the image was apt now. She was looking into the rabbit hole…wanting to know how far down it went.

"About?"

"How much of you is in me. Thankfully there appears to be little physical resemblance."

There was the flick of a brow (or where a brow would have been, anyway) and Helena felt a glimmer of hope. Good. As long as she was different—as long as she didn't worship or fear him—she might gain a foothold.

Red eyes roved over her again. "But you believe there is in other ways."

"Since I left Hogwarts, my skill and power has increased exponentially. Since you started sending Death Eaters after me, in fact."

He steepled his skeletal fingers together and sat back. "It is true I have much to teach. And I suppose you would style yourself my successor."

"A foolish thing to think, much less say."

He tilted his head. "Oh?"

"I used Veritaserum on Lucius. You already regard me as a potential rival. Confirming your suspicions would be signing my own death warrant."

"So you are not a fool, then. Merely a risk-taker."

"Unlike you."

"You think I avoid risk?"

"I think you would never do anything unless you were already assured of success."

"Calling me a coward now?"

"I would call that wisdom."

"Yet you choose not to use it now."

"As I said: I've come to learn."

Another silence, and this time Helena felt a little easier. She had not earned his respect—but then she doubted anyone had—but perhaps she had pulled out some callous amusement. It would be enough to get her summoned back.

"There will be…tests."

"Naturally."

"You are eager."

"Would you not be?"

"No," he said flatly. "I would be formulating a plan to kill me."

"I don't waste my time on impossible schemes."

He smirked. "And yet you claim to be a member of Dumbledore's little club?"

"I was," she nodded. "But that was yesterday."

"Curious indeed."

"So: the first test?"

"Impatient as well. A true Gryffindor," he said, mouth set in a mocking, contemptuous line.

"I am not ashamed of it," she said calmly. "Why should I be?"

Apparently, judging from his expression, there were many reasons why she should be ashamed of it, but when she said nothing, the thoughtful look returned. "Very well then. Steal something."

"What?"

"Veritaserum, from the potioneers at St Mungo's Hospital."

"Why?"

"My orders are not questioned. They are simply obeyed."

She set her jaw. "Why? Because they are all afraid of you?"

"Yes. And with good reason."

She considered that. Questioning further, more insolence, would probably use up whatever patience he might have left for her. And that would get her killed. She eyed the snake. Probably eaten too. Deciding discretion was better part of valour, she nodded. "How do I contact you when I have it?"

"I will know."

Almost as soon as she was away from that place, Helena shuddered into tears. She arrived home like that, sobbing in the kitchen, quite certain that she was still alone. It took Sirius slamming the door open to make her realised that of course she wasn't. He came to her when she reached for him, and didn't say anything for a while. But that was okay, because there was nothing that needed to be said. He misunderstood the reason for her tears, she knew, but he didn't complain about the tears which soaked his shirt, just made gentle shushing noises and smoothed his fingers through her hair.

God, she was so frightened. She hadn't been, not there, not with him—with him she had been perfectly still, completely calm. Ready. In danger she had been undistressed. In safety she was out of her mind with fear. How had she done it? How could she do it again?

"Don't let me go again, Padfoot, please don't let me go again…"

He obviously still had no idea what she was talking about, but he shook his head, held her a little closer and kissed her forehead. "I won't. I won't, Hellfire."

After he had made her a cup of tea, wrapped her again in his arms in the living room and opened the curtains to the dawn outside, she felt a little better. Lying on the sofa still nestled against Sirius chest, she sighed. "I love you."

"I love you," he smiled briefly, before his expression darkened a little. "What did Dumbledore say?"

She could not tell the truth to Voldemort and lie to the man she loved—though she knew that there would come a time when she had no choice—so she said, "There wasn't much he could say. Lucius said everything of significance."

"He didn't ask you to do anything stupid did he?"

She was torn between the urge to chuckle and the urge to cry again. "You mean…does he want me to spy on Voldemort? No, Padfoot. He doesn't want me to."

"Good. Then I don't have to curse him."

She smiled and kissed him. "You would, wouldn't you?"

"To protect you? Of course."

Helena said nothing, her blood chilling suddenly. The days of him lying to her were long gone, she knew that, she had known that from the minute he had yelled that he loved her. He would protect her from whatever and whoever threatened. And he would get himself killed if she let him. Suddenly deception meant much more than it had before. No longer something to be avoided; she had to embrace it and tell him nothing. She had to hide everything.

Suddenly going back to Voldemort seemed a pathetically easy task.

"Helena, would you have me that vial please? Helena, the vial? Helena!"

A hand suddenly appeared in front of her face, waving up and down. It had the desired effect, snapping her out of her reverie and making her focus on Lily once again. "What?"

"Could you hand me the vial?"

"Oh, of course."

She handed the vial to her fellow Healer, then squirted some of the Soothing Solution into her own palm. They were working on identical cases—a couple who had gone into the Brazilian jungle searching for undiscovered magical plants that could hold equally undiscovered healing properties. Unfortunately, while they had discovered a new plant, its only property seemed to be biting when removed from the soil. With venomous fangs. Venom which was acid-based. They had just about managed to apparate as far as St Mungo's before collapsing.

"What were you thinking about anyway?" Lily asked as she applied some of the Solution to the red-raw bite marks on her patient's arms and legs.

Helena thought quickly, feeling heat rise to her face. The truth was her plan past the potioneers. She would ordinarily have to get written authorisation from her supervisor—Octavia Fantaine—in order for a rationed amount of potion to be dispensed. In the case of Veritaserum, it was even trickier; once dispensed, an owl would immediately be sent to the Ministry and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. If the name of the patient did not match up with their records of suspicious persons, then the Healer who had administered the Veritaserum would be questioned and even possibly arrested. Considering the reputation Barty Crouch had, Helena was betting on the latter if she got caught. She couldn't brazen it out—she had to do it by stealth. And she did have a plan. She was just trying to work up the nerve to actually carry it out.

"Sirius," she finally answered, quietly.

She hated using him as an excuse, but it did the trick. The puzzled look on Lily's face disappeared in an instant, to be replaced by an amused grin. "If someone had told me a week ago you would be lovesick over Sirius Black, I never would have believed it."

"Yes, well, I'm having trouble believing it myself," Helena said, rolling her eyes.

"Don't worry, you regain the ability to think clearly eventually."

"And then obviously lose it once you get married," she replied, nodding at what Lily was doing—namely rubbing Soothing Solution onto her patient's shoe.

"Ooops. Sorry, Mr Sattler."

Helena smirked and straightened. "I'm going for my lunch break. See you in a bit."

She left the ward, patting the small bottle in her pocket. It wasn't much, but it should last just long enough. She had an hour for lunch, and she had to make every second count. She just hoped that she could get the final ingredient. With that in mind, she headed for the staff canteen, trying for casual and being surprised at how easily it came.

Luck was on her side too. Of the two permanent potioneers, one was also on his break, apparently asleep in a corner, a Daily Prophet spread open on his lap. He was snoring softly. Helena joined the queue just behind one of the receptionists. As they got to the drinks dispenser, she reached forward quickly—too quickly, accidentally scratching the other witch's hand.

"Ouch!"

"Sorry! Not looking where I'm going."

The receptionist shook her head. "It's no problem."

"Oh but look, you're bleeding…"

"Really, I don't mind, it happens."

"At least let me fix it." She pulled out her wand and tapped the two tiny red lines on the other woman's hand, which instantly disappeared.

"Thanks."

Helena smiled. "No problem."

She paid for her coffee and headed for the doors. At them, she carried out probably the most risky part of the whole thing. Casting a memory charm in broad daylight. Not a powerful one, to be sure. Just enough to make sure the receptionist would be unable to identify her later.

"Obliviate!" she whispered.

The receptionist paused suddenly, looking down at the apple in her hand as though unsure what it was. Then she raised it to her mouth and took a bite, only to be reprimanded by the cashier. "You're supposed to pay for that before you eat it."

"Oh. Haven't I?"

Smiling, Helena left the canteen, and went toward the loos. Once there, she went into a cubicle, locked the door behind her and poured the coffee down the toilet. Then she refilled the cup with the Polyjuice potion she'd brought to work with her. Wincing a little, she dug underneath her fingernails, extracting the skin she'd just collected. In it went. With a hissing fizz, the potion turned a candyfloss pink. With a grimace, she threw it back.

It was an easy job to put a glamour on her robes, disguising their distinctive lime-green colour, and when the cubicle door opened again, a completely alien reflection greeted her.

Five minutes later, the receptionist opened the door to the potioneer's office. It was unusual for someone from the front desk to be up here, so she was greeted with a frown.

"Yes?"

The receptionist blew a bubble of Droople's as big as her fist, and spoke in an east-end accent. "Someone at reception to see you. Lawyer I fink."

The potioneer frowned. "A lawyer? About what?"

She shrugged. "Potions innit? Said somefin' about a client having an allergic reaction, blaming the hospital. Wasn't listenin'," she finished.

"Well, which firm are they from?"

She looked down at the blank bit of parchment she'd brought with her. "Dragonbeard-Griswald & Sons. Whoever they are."

Her words had the desired effect, and panic widened the potioneer's eyes. Dragonbeard only represented the oldest, richest families in Britain. And those old, rich families were the ones who funded St Mungo's. Without a second glance at the receptionist, he rushed out the door.

Helena checked up and down the hallway: empty. She closed the door and rushed through the lab to the stock room beyond. As if it had been done deliberately to aid her, everything was in alphabetical order. It was a simple matter to locate the 'V's'. There were six full bottles of Veritaserum on the shelf; she took the one at the very back. The last one to be noticed.

She had given herself five minutes to complete the task, and now found she'd done it in half that time. Still, she wasn't about to hang around. She ran back to the toilets and locked herself in. She spent the rest of her hour trying not to feel guilty about the woman whose skin she was currently wearing. There was no reason why anything bad should happen to her. She didn't know what had happened, and there was no way for her to know either. She might be arrested, but there was no evidence to incriminate her. And if there was something Helena had overlooked…then so be it.

The Polyjuice Potion wore off right when it was supposed to; at the end of her lunch hour, she was herself again, the only glamour now on the bottle of Veritaserum, which she'd disguised as a Calming Draught and pocketed.

When she got back to the ward, there was no sign of any disturbance, no Healers rushing around, and Lily seemed perfectly alright as well. A sense of, if not triumph, then satisfaction filled her. She had done what she'd been ordered to, and while it would not be the last test, it was a start. A foot on the ladder. As long as she didn't think too hard about where that ladder led, it would be fine. She would find out something that would make it all worth while.

Now all she had to do was go home and wait for the summons.

Four hours later, her shift was over and she took the floo home, appearing in the fireplace with her prize still intact. She checked the clock. Four thirty—Sirius would be home any minute; where could she hide it? Pursing her lips, she looked around the kitchen, then inspiration struck. He never went in the food cupboards, as she was still firmly the head chef. If she put it amongst the spice jars, he'd never think to look for it there.

She was just in time stowing it away, and was just boiling the kettle when there was a small pop, and Sirius appeared. He kissed her, then flopped down into a chair. She handed him a mug of tea. He took it gratefully, and they say drinking silently for a moment. Her heart was pounding again. He knew. He had to know, surely, because if she was in his position, her guilt would be written all over her face, easy to spot, readable in a second. Yet he said nothing. His eyes were on face, to be sure, but they were happy to see her. When he smiled, she smiled back automatically. Had she told him she loved him today?

"Rough day?"

"You could say that."

She put her tea down and crossed to him, sitting in his lap. She put her arms around his neck and kissed him. "Know what'll make it better?"

He grinned. "I've really no idea."

She pulled off her top. "Still no clue?"

He lowered his head, kissing her neck slowly. "Not one."

She unfastened her bra. "And now?"

"Something's dawning slowly."

Now it was Helena's turn to lose her train of thought as his mouth moved from her neck down her chest. She drew in a sharp gasp as his lips closed around a nipple. "I really think…you being…less clothed would help…"

He only needed to get a little bit less clothed, really, so it was only her who ended up completely naked, though neither of them complained about that. She suddenly found that she needed to be in control of it today. She had done everything the way she wanted to today, and this could be no exception to that rule. She twisted in his lap, straddling him. He went to move his hands to her hips, preparing to lower her onto his cock. Helena took his hands and put them behind his back, then grabbed the nearest thing to hand—a dish cloth in this case—and wrapping it around his wrists.

Raising an eyebrow, he smirked. "This is new."

"Are you complaining?" she murmured, unbuttoning his shirt slowly.

She shifted a little closer as she did so, leaning forward to push the material from his shoulders. As she did so, her breasts came into contact with his chest, both of them groaning. Her nipples felt rock hard, grazing rather than stroking his skin. She slipped off his lap after a moment, causing a wave of unsatisfied arousal to shudder through all her muscles. He opened delirious grey eyes, a look of uncertainty in them.

"Hellfire-"

"Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere."

Suddenly craving a sense of power over him she dropped to her knees, circling his length with her hand before touching her lips to his cock. She stayed that way, teasing and stroking and kissing, doing anything except the one thing he craved. His entire body was tense now, the muscles in his neck corded, standing out. His head was thrown back, eyes closed again now. It occurred to Helena that she could do anything, anything at all to him at this moment, and he wouldn't care. He was completely at her mercy. With that thought, it became impossible not to have him insideher right now. She got to her feet again, then sank down onto him and took his head into her hands. Keeping her hips still, but clenching her inner muscles around him, she bent her head and kissed him savagely, biting his lips until they were swollen and sensitive.

"Helena-"

She rocked her hips once, grinning at the ragged groan which left his throat. "Yes?"

"Please…"

Her turn to moan now. "Please what?"

"Please!"

She gave in, began rocking on top of him in earnest, finally letting his thrusts hit home, hard and deep. Within seconds, they were both climaxing loudly, the noise echoing off the kitchen walls. With her orgasm, all the fierce energy that had filled Helena evaporated instantly, and she collapsed against him, exhausted and with tears pricking at her eyes.

Sirius removed his makeshift bindings (truthfully, he'd done it about ten seconds after she put them on, but it was fun to pretend) and gathered her more fully into his arms. He noticed her shaking immediately. "Hey, what's the matter? What's wrong?"

She shook her head but wouldn't look at him until he lifted her face, remaining silent even then. "What's wrong?" he asked again.

"Nothing, but…a lot at the same time, you know?"

"Not really."

"Doesn't matter, Padfoot. I'm just cold."

He wasn't buying it, but nodded anyway. "Alright, then let's move this to the bedroom, shall we?"

Hours later, after they'd had something to eat and made love again, he was asleep, and Helena watched him. It was the first time today she'd been unafraid. Even when full of her own cleverness, her heart pumping with something that seemed thicker than blood, even when riding high on the crest of an orgasm, she had been uneasy. Now peace had been restored. There was nowhere better she could be, nowhere safer. No one and nothing could touch her, reach her here.

Until there was a tap on the window. A barn owl stood outside, impatiently waiting to be let him. Dread filling her bones, Helena left the warm bed and took the roll of parchment the owl offered. There were only two words.

To me.

A/N: Review please!