A/N: Can only apologise for the delay in posting this. The muses only just started singing, and I only just finished the lemon for this chapter. And I've just used the word 'only' too many times in this author's note. On with the chapter!

Thank you for the reviews!

Chapter Forty

"How complicated you reckon that's going to be?" Sirius asked.

"I have no idea. Mostly I want Dumbledore to be wrong for the first time in his life."

"Unlikely."

"Looks like we're going to be here for a while, then. At least the view's pretty."

The view was stunning, in fact—the cottage was perched on a clifftop overlooking the blue ocean, situated in front of rolling hills covered with trees. It felt very isolated, but that was more comforting than anything. After what Lady V had done to one muggle, she shuddered to imagine what might happen if there was a village full of them available for torture and mutilation.

Turning away from the view, she looked at Sirius. He didn't have to be here. "Sirius," she began, "I want to thank you. And apologise. I realise how difficult this is going to be for you, and I don't want you to think I don't appreciate it."

He frowned at her tone. "You're talking to me like you don't know me. I'd do anything, and you know that, so stop being so bloody formal, Hellfire. And don't thank me yet anyway. There's plenty of time for me to go back on my word."

She smiled; they both knew he wouldn't ever be induced to do so. "Well, that's true. I haven't gone completely crazy yet."

"Yet," he grinned.

The cottage was simple; so simple that it was easy to see how quickly they'd both get cabin fever. The kitchen had a range, not an oven, and while the fire burned cheerfully in there it still felt cold. There were wood-burning stoves in the two bedrooms, and in the tiny bathroom, too. Stone flooring throughout, and single-glazed windows that looked out to the sea or to the woods. It had an air of neglect—the once-cheerful pastels had faded, the paint peeling and chipped, and the mirror was cracked. A few cobwebs lurked in the corners still, and there were some dead flowers in a vase on the unvarnished table.

"Not exactly Malfoy Manor, is it?"

"It's perfect," she said. "We don't have a fireplace though."

"That is rather the point, dear."

She elbowed him. "Shut up."

"Make me." He elbowed her too.

"Are you talking back to me, Black?"

"Might be. What are you going to do about it, Malfoy?"

"Buy your silence, I think. But I seem to have left my galleons at home."

"I accept various forms of currency," was the reply, as Sirius hooked an arm around her waist.

Helena reciprocated the gesture, though as she did so her smile faded a little. "I wouldn't blame you if you were freaked out about it, love. You don't have to- I mean, if you'd rather not …"

He kissed her with as much tenderness as he ever had, gently coaxing her lips apart and deepening the kiss, making relief and tremulous joy fill her. It wasn't just duty. Part of her still struggled against it though—not against Sirius, never, but it surely wasn't something she deserved. When he pulled back, he saw the frown on her face.

"What? What is it?"

"I'm tainted," she confessed quietly. "I don't want to- I don't know, infect you."

Sirius tilted her face back to his. "Even if I believed that, you foolish woman, you're no more tainted now than you were before. We just know more than we did, that's all."

"And knowledge is power?" she asked, lips quirking.

"Well, it's handy, at least. Can't hurt. It won't hurt us, Hellfire. Pretty sure at this point we'd survive about anything."

"Should bloody hope so," she muttered back.

"So this," he said, gesturing at her arm, "is just a … visual thing, that's all. And if you don't believe that's how I see it, then I'll have to show you."

It was oddly formal as he took her hand and pulled her to the bedroom, shutting the door behind them, even though they were the only people within fifteen miles. The last time they had done this it had been all wrong. Wrong place, wrong tempo, the wrong emotions. This time he'd make it right. He kissed Helena again, slowly reaching down to divest her of the robes that didn't belong to her. Nonetheless, he didn't rip them off her. There'd be nothing violent about this. He undid one button at a time, moving his mouth and fingers at the same pace. His lips moved from hers to her jawline, her neck, dusting kisses along her collarbones, slightly protruding under smooth skin that was a little too pale. She was too thin, he noticed suddenly. When was the last time he'd seen her eat dinner? Or breakfast, in fact? Alright then, mission number two: make sure she ate properly. After she'd had a proper orgasm, naturally.

She had started trembling a bit now, but her eyes were closed and her fingers tangled in his hair, smoothing over the nape of his neck. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips reddened from arousal and slightly parted. Once the robe was entirely open, he pushed it from her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor in a puddle of black silk that would never be touched again. Her lingerie shone underneath, bright scarlet trimmed with gold lace around the tops of her breasts, the curve of her buttocks. It made Sirius grin even as desire spiked in him again. It was like pulling the layers of deception away, and discovering she was still the Gryffindor lioness she'd always been underneath. He knew, then—and for the first time for certain—that they would beat this. Because this was who she was. Temporarily abandoning the foreplay, he kissed her passionately, suddenly fiercely adoring of her and needing to show it. Once it had passed, he traced his fingers over her bra-clad breasts. Helena moaned into his mouth as they moved over her nipples, the little peaks hardening even with a brief touch. With a couple of deft movements, he unhooked the garment, pulling it off and baring her breasts. They backed up towards the bed, and he gently pushed her back onto it, her dark hair over the pillows. She shivered slightly in the cool air, her aureolas puckering even further. He swirled in his index finger around one, then took her hand and slid it over her own breast. She hardly needed the encouragement to pick up where he'd left off. When his hands slid down her sides and then over her abdomen, her hips lifted, unconsciously urging him on. He didn't go below her underwear, running the pad of his thumb teasingly across her covered sex. She drew in a sharp breath when he pressed fleetingly against her clit.

"Sirius-"

He took her other hand, pulling it down. "Touch yourself," he whispered.

"But-"

He kissed her, cutting off her objection and guiding her fingers into her panties. When he was sure she wouldn't stop, he stood again, pulling off his own clothes without taking his eyes from her. There couldn't be a more arousing sight; Helena's bottom lip caught between her teeth, her blue eyes darkened as they locked with his, fingers of her left hand gently twisting and pulling at one rose-coloured nipple and the fingers of her right rubbing underneath crimson silk, slowly moving her hips up and down. He'd wanted to take his time, but the majority of his clothes ended up being torn off. When his body covered Helena's, he was already hard and eager for her, pressing against her core. She kicked the last bit of her underwear off as Sirius moved his fingers down to hers. It was definitely one of the hottest thing they'd ever shared: Helena's fingers on her clit while he put one finger, then two, into her dripping sex. She mutely urged him to faster and harder, but he ignored her, moving slowly but deeply, ratcheting up her pleasure until the orgasm washed over her, her eyes squeezing shut as her muscles clenched rhythmically around his fingers, a loud moan escaping her mouth.

As the aftershocks jerked slowly from her body, Helena reached for him, kissing him hungrily. He lay on his back, pulling her on top now. There was a great view to be enjoyed yes, but she needed to be in charge of this, needed to see everything in his face, every emotion he felt. It would be the only way she believed him. She took him deep, and once they were joined the pattern felt like a glorious homecoming, everything familiar but perfect, and absolutely necessary. He had her, she had him, they were strong, they were resilient, and they would triumph. As the climax crashed through his nerves, heard Helena hit her peak at the same time, it felt like they already had.

They lay together for a long time, the morning warming into midday with the sound of the sea in the distance. Words didn't seem as needed as the soft stroking of flesh and each others' warm arms. But in doing so, he could no longer ignore the blackened streak, the terrible image engraved on her skin. She was very still as he stared at it, and more motionless still when he reached out to touch it. She flinched once just before his skin made contact with hers, almost as if she'd gone back to believing he'd catch something. But his fingers slid over the design quickly, three times cleanly, without injury. His only response was a heavy sigh, but then he kissed her forehead and tucked her close.

"Don't you hate it?" she asked.

"Of course I hate it," he replied. "It mars an otherwise flawless thing. I keep wanting to rub it off."

"It'll never come off," Helena said, her voice angry and afraid.

"It might. One day, if … when we win. When he's dead."

"One day," she sighed. "But not before Lily and James have their baby. Maybe not even before she starts school. It could just go on and on, the number of us capable of resisting dwindling away to nothing. Then the whole world will be reduced to a misery of fear and pain."

She sounded disconsolately certain that he had to lean back, look her in the face to make sure she wasn't actually having some kind of vision. Not that he was sure he believed in prophecy, though there were those rumours about the Department of Mysteries … Her eyes seemed normal though, and her voice was too—if unbelievably sad. He kissed her forehead. "That's not how it'll go."

"No? Then tell me your version, Padfoot."

"Well, it starts with Happily Ever After, and it consists of no You-Know-Who, no Death Eaters, maybe no Slytherins either—and everybody's happy."

"And sane, I suppose?" she asked.

"If you really want to be sane. Personally I think sanity should be reserved for Ravenclaws. Anyway, you don't have to be sane for the future you and me get."

"Why do I have the feeling this future involves-"

"Endless shagging?"

"Yep."

"Can't think. I was going to suggest we take up scrabble and join a bridge club. Honestly, Hellfire, sometimes your dirty imagination shocks me."

It had the desired effect, and made her laugh. "Sounds good to me."

"Does, doesn't it?"

She kissed him. "I need a bath."

When he was sure Helena couldn't hear him slip out, Sirius left the bedroom to hide her wand. At the moment, Lady V could know where it was—namely, on him. But if she couldn't find it, she couldn't wreak havoc with it. When Helena got out of the bath, he was back, and the wand was hidden in a newly-created safe behind the mirror in the kitchen. Then he went to join Helena in the bath. They spent the rest of the afternoon getting down to the serious reason for their stay here: listing everything that Lady V had done (as far as they knew) and trying to work out the reasons behind it. At best it made Helena's heart heavy with guilt and shame; at worse she couldn't speak or breathe for crying. Either way, they made little progress. Especially with the extreme aspects of Lady V's behaviour. Finally Sirius had a brainwave.

"Try changing shape."

"What?"

"Try it. It helps, when you're feeling stressed emotionally."

Helena wiped her face before closing her eyes. In another few seconds, there was a golden eagle stood incongruously on the kitchen table. Only her blue eyes remained the same, and they looked sceptical.

"Don't give me that. You feel calmer, don't you?"

The eagle gave a haughty incline of her head, which he took to mean assent.

"Good. Now think. Maggie Sharples. Part of you wanted to punish her, and Lady V amplified that. So why? What made you angry with her?"

They sat there, man and bird, while dark fell outside. Sirius lit candles, directing them to float around the room, illuminating it in soft gold. Finally, Helena transformed back. "She didn't stop flirting with you, after I arrived. After I made it clear we were together, she carried on. But it wasn't just that, I … I was angry with you. And afraid."

Oh wonderful. So torturing that poor woman had been for his benefit, too. Not content with his apology to Helena, Lady V wanted to make sure he didn't stray off the lead. "Because I flirted back."

"Yes. And I know that's just what you do—you'd flirt with Lily if you didn't love James so much, and you never mean anything by it, but … It felt like you were reverting to type. It felt like I was about to become another victim of Sirius Black."

"That's stupid," he said bluntly.

"You don't think I know that?" she snapped, burying her hands in her dark hair and looking like she was about to tear it all out. "But I didn't tell you that, I didn't tell her to back off—and you have to admit, whatever else she might be, no matter how monstrous, Lady V is no victim."

They sat in silence for a while, tears falling down Helena's cheeks. Neither of them had any appetite, and without anything else to do, they went to bed early, lying on opposite sides of the bed and not reaching out. He didn't feel contempt for her—but for her insecurity, maybe. Helena had never been one of those girls. Who else hadn't instantly let him have his way, who else had even he thought untouchable, who else had he fallen in love with? He had slept around a lot. But he had never done that with Helena. And he deserved a damn sight more respect and faith than to have her think he was 'reverting to type'.

A faint whisper broke the silence. "I'm sorry." She turned over to face his back. "Padfoot, I'm sorry. I … I should have- I should have-"

"I don't want 'should haves', Helena," he spat quickly. "There's no point in them. What's done is done. I know you want to undo it but you can't. Neither of us can."

"Then what are we doing?" she asked. "Why are we even bothering, what's the point?"

"We have to move past it. And I have to move past my issues as well as you do yours."

"Then-"

"It'll take time."

"I know," she said after a long pause.

Her right hand slid over his side to curl around his body, and he pressed a kiss to her palm, but made no move to face her. They fell asleep in the tense, uneasy silence.

The sun rose early, and woke them equally early. Well, not quite. The sun had woken Helena. Her sliding her leg over his body woke Sirius. He hadn't even opened his eyes before she had her hand wrapped around his hardening cock, her lips on his chest and nails digging slightly into his shoulders. He groaned lowly when she pumped up and down a few times, feeling himself get even harder in her grasp. His hands slowly slid up her thighs, pulling her into position over him-

Suddenly Helena's mouth moved to his neck, and she bit him, almost hard enough to draw blood. The pain made him snap his eyes open, and the gaze which met his made a shock of revulsion spear him.

"What's the matter, darling?" she purred. "You look shocked."

He shoved her off him, scrabbling to get away from her so fast and hard that he propelled himself onto the hard floor, grabbing his wand as he fell. Scarlet eyes watched him with mock-innocence. "And here I thought we were having fun. I know at least one part of you was."

No chance of that now.

She noticed and pursed her lips in a pout. "Shame. Are you sure you don't want to? I think you could be very enthusiastic if you just let me … inspire you. I'm sure I could come up with something. It would drive you to new heights of desire, Sirius, things you've never imagined." She moved closer, without taking her eyes from his and somehow rooting him to the spot. Her voice poured over him like a silk shroud lined with poison spines. "Tastes you've craved in your darker moments. Sensations you've never admitted to yourself that you desire … We could rule the world, you know. You could have everything you've ever wanted. I'll give it to you."

When a cold hand snaked around to slide up his leg, the reality of the situation snapped into focus again. He shoved the point of his wind into her face. "Back off."

Very slowly, and with a wide grin, she did so, moving to crouch in the corner of the room. She was still poised on the balls of her feet, still looking like she'd spring at any moment. Sirius stood, pushing away the shock, the anger, the bit of fear that had crept in along with the massive pool of dread in his gut—as well as the incongruity of him still being naked. He couldn't think like her lover now, or even very much a human being: he had to be an auror now, one dealing with a dark witch who was capable of just about anything. Except he was an auror totally without allies or hope of sending for help. Knowing that to do so would be to betray one of the only things in the world he'd absolutely kill for. He backed her into the spare bedroom, and into a chair, conjuring ropes.

And then Lady V persisted for days. She sat in the chair he had shackled her to and stared at him the whole time. He didn't dare shut the door on her, leaving her alone. God knows what she could get up to. It obviously frustrated her that she couldn't disapparate; when she discovered it, she screamed obscenities at him, insulting everything she possibly could and then a few things she shouldn't have been able to. She refused food after that, knowing that it would kill him to know she was starving Helena's body.

"Look, just eat it. I don't care what you say to me, but even evil bitch-queens must get hungry."

"Careful, Black. It almost sounds like you might be pleading with me."

"Is that what you want?"

"Oh, eventually. Not now. Free me, and I'll feed your precious darling one."

"Not happening."

"What a pity." The lips pursed. "Looks like she's going to go hungry then. Not too much in the way of fat reserves, either, is there?"

No, there weren't. Helena had always been slim, but over the last few months she'd lost more and more weight, presumably because of the secrets she'd been keeping. If she stretched out, her ribs were prominent. "Don't you dare-"

"Or what? You'll have to start force-feeding me, blood-traitor. Choke her."

He left the room knowing she was right, and pleading with anyone who might be listening for another way. God, was this how she intended to break him? They had come here to destroy Lady V, what if the opposite was happening? She'd force him into performing brutal acts, increasing the degree of cruelty inch by inch until his soul was as black as his name. No need for the Imperius Curse if you could plunge your talons into someone's mind any time you liked, tearing at the fabric of it and weaving it however you wanted. So much more fun than a simple spell.

He turned, staring back at her. Lady V regarded him with an unreadable expression. He didn't think she could be using legilimency, but just in case … no harm in studying Occlumency. When he got out of here. If he ever got out of here. Sod's law was that he'd get Helena whole again only to find Voldemort had won the war.

Lady V broke out four days into her fast. With her hands tired behind her back, he hadn't bothered to check what she was doing. Mistake, as it turned out, because what she'd been doing was rubbing her wrists raw trying to get out of the bonds. She'd done it too, and been absolutely silent as she did so. After three nights without sleep, Sirius had finally collapsed into a chair after eating his own supper, and was teetering on the edge of sleep. His instincts were the only thing which saved him. Her wrists bloody and her fingers white-knuckled, she had managed to grab one of the kitchen knives, and lunged at him. She'd aimed for his throat, but he managed to move his head just in time. Nonetheless, a cut opened up on his jaw. No time for swearing or even pain though, because she was coming in again. He grabbed her wrist and twisted it. She cried out, the pain hers even if the body wasn't. The knife went clattering across the stone floor, but Lady V grappled with him, sinking her nails into his face.

"So now you want to kill me?" he demanded.

"What's the matter, lover?" she crooned, licking the blood from his neck and chin before he could stop her, "Don't you like it?"

He shoved her away, and she went for the knife as he went for his wand. "Stupify!"

She flew backwards with the force of the spell, hitting the door and crumpling to the floor, unconscious. But she had thrown the knife, and it was now buried in his gut. "Ow."

He had no idea where the knife had hit, but it hurt like hell, a red hot shard of pain ripping through his abdomen. A fatal wound, no doubt, if he let it be. But he didn't have anywhere near the healing skill to cure an injury like this. Well, what the hell. He was dead either way if it didn't work. His wand shook badly when he pointed it at Helena. "Enervate."

The eyes that blinked groggily open were not glowing red, and when the disorientation cleared, she looked horrified. "Sirius! Merlin's beard what happened?"

"Domestic," he managed weakly. Pain was really quite bad now. "Could you-"

"Give me your wand," she said quickly.

Left without a choice, he let her snatch it, his own grip loosening anyway. "Hurry."

"This'll hurt."

"Already- Argh!"

Helena had ripped the knife out, and blood immediately poured from the wound, pooling out of him. And then, mercifully, he knew no more.

A/N: Review please!