I've published the book! Arthur's Witch: The Priestess is now available on Kindle and Smashwords, and you can download the sample for free, so it's gotta be worth a look! The blurb is below.

Morgan le Fay is a woman shrouded in infamy. The original wicked witch, she is responsible for bringing the golden age of Arthur to a catastrophic end. Though evil guile, ruthless ambition and petty jealousy, she stood against the light of Britain's first Christian King, her own brother. She watched an entire kingdom burn. A subhuman monster who consorted with demons and became the Devil's mistress.

Or a woman shrouded in mystery. The original fairy godmother, she is responsible for creating the golden age of Arthur from the ground to the ramparts of Camelot. Though passion, purity of spirit and selflessness, she stood against the religious perversion which invaded her homeland and corrupted her King, her own brother. She protected an entire kingdom as a mother would a child. A High Priestess whose name and legend have been besmirched and besmeared by lesser men.

Her own story. Now told.

A/N: I'm sorry this took me so long to get out, people. Christmas and New Year were hectic. Still, here is the chapter. I hope you enjoy it.

Chapter Thirty Four

"Well?"

Sirius sighed and shook his head. "No."

James' face dropped. "She said no?" he demanded incredulously.

"No, I didn't ask her."

"Oh. Well why not?"

"Because we had a fight, and I didn't feel that right after was the best time to propose marriage," Sirius snapped.

"Probably not," James agreed. "What were you- Never mind, with you two it could be anything. Are you going to try again?"

"Of course, I just … dunno when yet. I didn't think it had to be special but it wasn't special last night and it was a total disaster. So maybe there's some posh French place I should be taking her to."

"She's part-French isn't she?"

"Yeah...well, no, not really. Veronique's mother was French, but…" he trailed off, looking around at the rest of the people in the office.

James nodded, doing the same. No one appeared to be listening, but it was probably best not to mention Helena being Voldemort's daughter in the Auror Office of the Ministry of Magic. "She likes French food," he said, trying to sound positive.

"True. And there're French restaurants in London, right?"

James rolled his eyes. "I'd say so, mate. Might be a few more in Paris, but that's about it."

Sirius paused. "Maybe I should take her to Paris."

James rolled his eyes again and spent the rest of the morning ignoring the muttering about various restaurants and solo debates regarding the most romantic locations in London. He smiled, and then got on with his work. He was very glad he was a married man.

At one thirty, there was the clearing of a female throat behind Sirius. He turned to see Helena, standing at the opening of his cubicle. "I'd knock, but you don't seem to have a door."

He stood, kissing her. "As if you wouldn't end up barging in anyway."

"You free for a bit?" she asked, voice too bright and breezy.

"Sure? You want to get lunch?"

"Something like that."

They took the visitor's entrance up to London, and then walked to Hyde Park hand in hand. When they got to a bench, Helena sat down and didn't eat. She said she wasn't hungry, and that she'd already eaten, but it wasn't entirely convincing. Since someone watching him eat didn't make for the most comfortable of lunches, his was over pretty quickly.

"Alright, Hellfire, what's wrong?"

"Who says there's anything wrong?" she asked, though her voice was quiet and unchallenging.

"You do," he said firmly, lifting her chin up. "Now what is it?"

She swallowed hard, and when she looked into his eyes, hers were full of fear. "Padfoot … I've done something stupid."

"Alright … How stupid?"

"Incredibly. And I don't think you're ever going to forgive me."

He was silent at that, coming up with only one possible explanation. "Do I know him?"

She frowned. "What?"

"Well, this stupid thing you've done that I'm never going to forgive you for—what's his name?"

She stared. "You think I've cheated on you."

"Haven't you?"

"No!" she cried. "Merlin's beard, Sirius, how could you think I ever would?"

"Well you're the one sitting here going on about something you've done that's so terrible you're shit scared to tell me what it is!"

"But I'd never be unfaithful to you! Not like that, anyway." The last bit was said in a mutter that he almost, almost, didn't hear.

"Then what have you done?"

"You remember Lily and James' wedding?"

"Of course."

"And what came out just before it?" she asked quietly.

He frowned. "Of course I do, Helena … is this about that?"

"Yes," she replied quietly. "You know I went to see Dumbledore that night too."

He was suddenly angry again. "You said he didn't ask you to spy."

"Well, he-"

"He had no right to ask that of you, Helena, and you told me he didn't-"

"He didn't want-"

"To waste an opportunity, obviously!"

"Sirius!" she interrupted, raising her voice loudly so that he would actually hear her. "He didn't ask me to spy. He didn't want me to spy. That's not what I'm trying to tell you."

"Then for God's sake, woman, what are you trying to tell me?"

"That I-"

"Padfoot? Padfoot!"

At them muffled voice that sounded from Sirius' pocket, Helena looked completely confused. "Is that James?"

"Yeah, he- Hang on." Sirius dug out the two-way mirror and unwrapped it. "Better be good, Prongs."

"It is good," James said quickly, "Moody's threatening to castrate you if you're not back here in five minutes. You're late."

Sirius checked his watch, and swore. It was five past two already. "Alright, I'm on my way."

"Hurry up about it."

He folded the mirror back up and turned to face Helena again. She was now looking even more worried than she had before, and for a moment he was tempted to tell Moody to fuck it—she was more important.

"You should go," she said suddenly.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah." She smiled, or tried to. "We live together, Sirius, there'll be time later. Go back to work."

"Alright."

He kissed her, intending it to be brief, but she pulled him down further, hungrily deepening the embrace. When she broke off several moments later, both of them were breathing hard, and Helena's eyes were glittering brightly in the sunlight.

"I love you."

"Love you too."

Helena watched him walk away feeling more guilty than she ever had in her whole life. Guilty, and ashamed. She should have just told him, and she certainly should not have told him to go back to work.

"You are such a coward, Helena Morgana Malfoy," she told herself in a soft hiss.

How long had doing the right thing been so hard? She had been doing it all her life, had refused to bow to pressure from her family, had gone against every principle they had in order to follow what she knew was the right thing. She sighed loudly. She knew when it had become so complicated. When she had got involved with Voldemort. She rolled up her sleeve, looking at the Dark Mark. Since I got this bloody thing.

She spent another few minutes sitting on the park bench feeling sorry for herself, then decided to go back to the hospital. She was late herself.

The guilt deepened to abyssal proportions when she got an owl that afternoon from Sirius, apologising that she hadn't got out whatever it was she'd wanted to. As though it had been his fault. It was strange. All those times in the past she'd told him he was immature, that he was thoughtless and stupid—and now he was being the opposite of all those things. She wanted the old Sirius back. Just for a moment. He suggested they pick the discussion up at home later. Helena wrote back agreeing and trying to re-pluck up her courage. It was probably better to do it at home anyway. There was less chance of interruption that way.

Lily caught up with her later that afternoon. "Judging from the look on your face, it didn't go well."

"It didn't go at all."

"Helena! You must tell him! You can't just hope it'll all go away-"

"I know!" Helena snapped. "And the only reason I didn't tell him is because we got interrupted. He had to go back to work and I-"

"Chickened out?"

Helena glared for a moment, then relented. "Chickened out, yes. I fully intend to tell him, Lily, I promise. Tonight, when we get home-"

"You'll probably both be drunk by then."

Helena sent her a quizzical look. "I know I'm nervous about it but I wasn't planning on using Dutch courage."

The redhead sighed. "It's Peter's birthday, Helena, we're all supposed to be going to the pub for drinks, remember?"

"Oh, bollocks!"

Both she and Sirius had agreed to go as well. A nauseating mixture of relief and dread filled her. The moment of execution had been postponed, but when it was time again, would she be able to tell him? Or would all of her resolve have been leeched away by then?

"Don't drink too much," Lily advised. "And when you do it, do it quickly, like yanking off a plaster."

Helena appreciated the motherly council most of the time, but there were instances when being on the receiving end of Lily's developing maternal instinct was wearing. And at the moment she had no idea what she was talking about. "What's a plaster?"

"It's a thing muggles put over cuts and scrapes and things. To stop the bleeding and keep them clean while the body heals itself."

"Oh. How long does that take?"

"A few days, if it's a small cut," Lily shrugged.

"A few days? Merlin's beard, how do muggles get anything done?"

"Slower than we do. The point is that plasters are sticky, and pulling them off a bit at a time hurts more than just ripping it off. So when you tell Padfoot, tell him quickly and get it over and done with."

"Over and done with," she nodded. "Just do it."

Lily smiled encouragingly. "Just do it."

They all met at the pub at around six, though Remus was a little late. There was a new patch on the elbow of his old jacket, and the turn-ups of his jeans were frayed. He also looked very tired. "Sorry I'm late. Overslept."

"Are you working nights?" Helena asked.

"Yeah, as a porter at a hospital. St Thomas's."

"Is that a muggle one?" Helena asked quietly.

He nodded, though looked relieved when she didn't ask why, as well as a little suspicious. Helena had never told him—in so many words—she knew of his condition, but she was fairly certain he was aware. She hoped he also knew that she would never betray his secret. Hopefully he would not have to protect hers for much longer.

At the bar, Sirius and James were waiting in the queue for drinks. It was longer than usual, and they had been waiting for several minutes already. Finally the landlord got to them.

"Sorry it's taking so long tonight, lads. We're short-handed."

"Yeah, we noticed," James said. "Why's that? Isn't there normally a girl who works here? Blonde, very pretty? Mildly pretty," he added hastily, remembering his wife standing not too far away.

At his question, the landlord stopped, looking extremely sombre. "You've not heard?"

They shook their heads.

"She was attacked last night while she was locking up."

"Attacked?"

"Yeah. Whoever the bastard was, what he did to her … God, it makes me sick just to think about it."

"What?"

"Maggie had her eyes gouged out. Both of them. And she- She had all her fingers cut off too. Delivery man found her this morning in the yard. She's in hospital now. The police have talked to her, but there's no trace of the guy."

"Merlin's beard…" Sirius breathed, to glares from his companion. "Why would anyone do that?"

"No idea. Maggie says she has no idea who it was. Hooded and masked apparently."

The Marauders took their drinks to a shadowy corner, faces very serious. They immediately related the story to the others, all of whom looked exactly the same. "Death Eater?"

"Sounds like it. Appears and disappears into thin air, just to mutilate a muggle. Sounds exactly like that scum."

"But just a random muggle, and just one Death Eater? They normally do that in packs," Helena said.

"So maybe this one's just a pyscho."

Peter shivered. "I don't think I like this pub anymore."

He was ignored. "Maybe. What do you want to do about it? Would Moody take it seriously if you approached him about it?"

"He hates all Death Eaters, so yeah. There are spells we can put up around the pub to stop them coming back, just in case. I mean, lots of muggles come here," James said, gesturing to the dozens all around them.

"So why attack one?" Helena murmured. "It would be far more effective to lock the muggles in, bar all the windows with magic and burn them all." At Sirius raised eyebrow, she coloured violently and reworded what she'd meant. "I meant more destructive. More their style."

"Maybe this one did something, who knows. Anyway, it's irrelevant," James said. "I'll owl Moody."

"Then I suppose we'd better get home," Lily sighed, putting her orange juice down. She turned to face Peter, who was looking understandably glum. "Sorry, Pete. This must be pretty horrible, happening on your birthday."

He shrugged his round shoulders. "Not your fault."

Lily hugged him compassionately, kissing his cheek—he blushed. "Well, why don't you drop by Godric's Hollow on Sunday, and I'll cook you a Sunday roast. How does that sound?"

He brightened. "Sounds great. Thanks, Lily."

"What else are friends for? See you later, guys."

Goodbyes were exchanged all round, and the group broke up fairly soon after that, all of them heading home. Sirius and Helena walked, Helena struggling to find the words to tell him, and finding on a dry pit of sand where her larynx should be. It was a mostly silent journey. Until they got to Kensington Gardens.

"Bastards!"

Her beautiful purple front door had been completely smashed in, and was now little more than wooden splinters. When Helena went to run inside, he gripped her hand. "Wait! They might still be in there."

They pulled their wands out and proceeded slowly into the house. Nothing seemed to be out of place—there was a scorch mark on the floor of the hallway, where the door had been blown in. But nothing else was wrong. He still didn't let go of her hand though.

"There's no one here," she whispered, then wondered why she was whispering.

"We don't know that. We have to check everywhere."

Together, they moved around the house room by room: kitchen, living room, bedrooms, library and bathrooms. There was no trance of any remaining intruders though.

"Nothing's missing," Helena frowned. "Is there?"

He checked the drawer on his side of the bed, finding the ring still safe. "No."

"Then they were after us," she said, shivering visibly.

He nodded. That really made everything very simple. Life was horribly short. "Well, carpe diem."

"Seize the day. What are you seizing-"

Her hand, the other one of his own curled around the ring box. Helena's eyes were hugely wide, brilliantly blue even in the dark. He flicked open the box and held out the ring. "This is going to keep happening, stuff like this. And the next time, we could be in the house. And we could die."

The corners of her trembling mouth curled upwards, ever so slightly. "This is a proposal?"

"Yes. Shut up." When she did, he carried on. "And I don't want to die without knowing-"

"Sirius-"

"-that you could never be in doubt that I love you. Always will, in fact. So will you marry me?"

The answer spilled from her mouth before she thought about all the things he didn't know about. "Yes."

"Yes?"

"A hundred—a thousand times. Yes."

He kissed her, slipped the ring over her finger. For one brief, shining moment, the euphoria blotted out everything else. If this moment were to be preserved forever, he would love her forever, they would be happy forever, she would never betray him. The possibilities were infinite.

Then their lips parted, and all those glowing futures disappeared. With no warning, Helena burst into tears. Before he could say anything, she opened his hand and put the ring in his palm, then closed his fingers around it. He looked shocked.

"Hellfire, what-?"

"I still want to marry you," she said quickly, "and by God I swear I love you, but there's something you have to know. And after I've told you, there's a good chance you won't want to marry me, or have anything to do with me. So just hold fire while I get it out, please." She was breathing hard, hearing her own voice swift and pitchy, but she couldn't stop. "In September, when I found out about my father, I went to Dumbledore and I made him an offer. He didn't want to let me, but I knew I could do more than anyone else could, I could know things that no one else could-"

He interrupted her. "Please don't tell me what I think you're telling me."

"I haven't finished."

"Helena-"

The conversation got no further; Sirius phoenix tear began vibrating, hard. Helena's remained still. "Must be Mad-Eye," he said. "I've got to go."

"I still have to-"

"Then you'll have to do it later," he snapped back, standing.

She fell silent, making no effort to stem the tears. She hadn't even got to the worst part yet, the lowest of what she had done, and already he was furious. He was never going to forgive her when it all came out. Then he reached down, touched her face. He didn't say anything, but sighed, then kissedh er forehead. Then he was gone, leaving anxious sobs to pour from her.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid-"

She cut off with a gasp as pain flared from her left arm. A summons. She had expected it to hurt—everything to do with Voldemort did—but she had not expected the compulsion to obey. It tugged at her nerves, biting at them like acid. She had to go, she'd die if she didn't, needed to go to him, to obey her master-

"No," she whispered. "No, no, no, no, no, no, no. He is not my master. I refuse. I refuse him."

Then the pain burned more brightly still, and her vision disappeared into a flash of white.

A/N: Review please!