Thanks for all the new favorites/follows, and thank you to those of you who reviewed the last time!

And thank you to the guest who reminded me about O.W.L. results! Good eye ;)

Chapter Three

The Rebel

The red room smelled of sweet death.

Blood coated everything. Its cloying scent and vivid brightness were splashed across the walls and splattered on the windows. It pooled on the wood floors and seeped through the cracks. Cassie could feel it sticking to her bare feet as she crossed the reeking room, heading for the grand bed that dominated her parents' suite in Alderfair Manor.

The white silk curtains that surrounded the bed had been torn open, hanging in tatters from the bedposts. Blood dripped from the hangings and onto the floor. Cassie could hear every drop of that blood, could see nothing but red, where once the white silk had fluttered in the mild summer breezes when her mother would throw the balcony doors wide to the world.

Shaking, Cassie pulled one of the drenched hangings aside. The bed was saturated with blood. Bile rose in her throat at the sickly-sweet smell of it, the horrid crimson of it. But when she saw her parents' bodies, so still and so red, she vomited everything that was in her. Again and again.

The shredded flesh and muscle of their chests, the cracked and broken bones that jutted from their ribcages, the gaping holes where their hearts had been… Cassie heaved – with bile, with sobs, with screams.

And across the room, Will watched it all with blank eyes and a bloodied heart in each hand.

"I had to do it, Sister," he said. His voice was agony; her brother's voice, but spoken from the lips of a stranger. "He made me do it."

Cassie looked down at herself, at the blood that now covered every inch of her. And when she looked back at her brother, his brown eyes were gone, replaced with scarlet irises and slit pupils. The eyes of the serpent.

Lord Voldemort smiled at her. "He will break, Cassie Alderfair." The Dark Lord raised her parents' hearts in his white hands. "And so will you."

He squeezed, and the hearts burst. Cassie was choking on the blood now, drowning in it, all while those red eyes watched her mercilessly—

Cassie thought she was still drowning when she jerked awake, gasping, but she was just lying facedown on her pillow. She peeled her face from the pillow, cold sweat clinging to her skin in a thin layer as she sat up, gulping down air.

She was alone when she woke, which was a small grace. Sirius must have snuck back to his own room sometime in the night after she'd fallen asleep. Good. He didn't need to witness one of her nightmare episodes. And she shuddered to imagine the wrath of Mrs. Potter if she'd found them sleeping in the same bed together, even if they hadn't done anything more. James's mother was lax and understanding about a lot of things, but she was smart enough to recognize what might occur if she had a bunch of hormonal teenagers under her roof, especially when two were quite obviously dating.

Cassie pulled her damp hair off her neck, still breathing to steady herself. She pressed the heel of her palm between her eyes, shutting them tightly and trying to banish the red she saw every time she blinked. Her throat felt thick as if she were still choking on that blood from her dream.

She flung off the tangled sheets and crossed to the bathroom, making sure the door that connected to Sirius's room was locked before switching on the sink faucet. The bathroom was large, with double sinks, a clawed porcelain tub, a sectioned-off portion for the toilet, and an expansive tiled shower that matched the rich beige color in the rest of the space. The shower was open to the room, built into the wall itself, with only a thin blue curtain one could draw for privacy. She thought about taking another shower, just to wash the slick, sticky feel of sweat and imagined blood off, but she couldn't summon the strength yet. Instead, she drank a few handfuls of cold water from the sink and rubbed the rest over her face and the back of her neck. When she was done, she looked into the mirror and found her reflection staring back, water dripping from her face.

Brown eyes, not red. She shut her eyes again, willing the image of the serpent eyes to go away. She'd been having dreams about them for weeks – Lord Voldemort and those red eyes, Will and the butchered bodies of their parents.

Liv had held Cassie's hand when her aunt read her the reports. No sign of forced entry. No bodily injuries. Wand collected from William Alderfair confirmed that cause of death was the Killing Curse for both Lukas and Eleanor Alderfair. But every night, Cassie still dreamed about all that blood and her brother standing, cold and triumphant, over the dead bodies of their mother and father.

Still feeling shaky and queasy, Cassie rinsed her face again and drank more water. It calmed her, slightly, but she couldn't stop seeing red – red blood, red irises.

She forced herself to the shower and turned it on, as hot as it would go. She stripped off her damp pajamas and climbed inside, savoring the sting of the water on her skin. She could imagine the blood sluicing from her skin, swirling down the drain, leaving her only tanned and cleansed once more.

And if she cried, she did not feel it.

She must have woken quite early, for when she was dried and dressed, the house was still silent as she crept out of her bedroom. Peter's snores echoed down the hallway, and she had to pause for a moment, reminding herself that her friends were still here, that they were all alive and safe. She hugged her arms close to herself, basking in that knowledge, when the click of another door opening made her turn.

Remus emerged from his bedroom at the end of the hall, showered and dressed like she was, and he waved when he saw her. He walked down the hall to meet her (which took a few moments, as the hall was enormous), but when he reached her, Cassie flung her arms around his neck without warning.

"Er, good morning to you too?" he said, patting her back as she squeezed him, hard. He chuckled. "Cass, if you're trying to break my neck, I think you're succeeding." She finally pulled back, and he grinned at her, puzzled. "What was that about?"

She shrugged. "Dunno. I just really needed that."

He chuckled again, slinging an arm over her shoulder as he led them downstairs. "All right, then. What are you doing up so early?"

She poked his side. "I could ask you the same thing."

"Well, unlike some other people I know—" he pointed up to the third floor, where the rest of the Marauders were still sleeping "—I don't enjoy sleeping my holiday away. I like to make it last for as long as possible."

"Godric, Remus. How do you make even your holiday sound responsible?" she said in disgust.

Remus just laughed, the sound echoing throughout the homely house as they continued descending the stairs, and Cassie had to smile. Remus had always been the one who could cheer her up without ever seeming to try. He had also been the first one out of the Marauders to befriend her, and that bond went deep.

"A talent, I s'pose," he said, shrugging. They reached the ground floor and paused, as Remus turned Cassie toward him by her shoulders, suddenly serious. "How are you doing, Cassie?"

She wanted to lie; to brush him off and pretend that everything was fine, even when it wasn't. She didn't want to speak about any of the horrible things that had happened in the recent weeks. But Remus knew her better than that. He was one of her closest friends – more than that. A brother. She owed him the truth.

"Do you want the honest answer or the ugly answer?" she asked. She tried for a smile, but it wobbled.

"All of it," he said. His green eyes were soft when he looked at her, but edged with a solid determination – the willingness to see every part of someone – the good, the bad, and the horrible. "You never have to hide anything from me, Cassie. I want you to know that."

And it was that – the sincerity of his tone, the conviction of it – that had her spilling everything to him, like a dam that had finally burst.

They were alone in the Potters' foyer, the morning sunshine dappling their faces through the high latticed windows, but Cassie still whispered, still wrapped her arms around herself to stave off the chill inside, as she confessed everything.

"I see them every night," she said. "My parents – their bodies broken, blood everywhere, their hearts ripped out of their chests. And Will – he's there too. He holds their hearts. He tells me that Voldemort made him do it, that he had to. And then Voldemort himself is there. He always says the same things: that he will break me, just as he will break Will." She heaved a shuddering breath. "It's so terrible, Remus. Knowing that if I had just tried harder—"

"No," he said firmly, shaking his head. "We're not starting down that road, Cassie. What happened was awful, yes – I would never claim otherwise – but we can't start blaming ourselves for things we were powerless to change. You did everything Will asked of you – more. Nothing that happened is your fault."

She shuddered. "If I'd made him stay—"

"—Then Voldemort would have the Gauntlet of Gryffindor, and whatever he was planning to use it for would have been set in motion," Remus interrupted. "You did that, Cassie. Will may have given you the pieces, but you were the one who put them together and destroyed that gauntlet. You were the one who hung Carlisle out to dry and got rid of her." He smiled softly. "What you've done is incredible. I don't think anyone else could've done what you did – could go what you're going through – with such strength and boldness."

"I'm not a hero," she said, her voice bitter, brittle.

"No," he said, "you're more than that."

She had to turn away then, even if he'd already seen the tears pooling in her eyes. She stared out the windows, at the bright sunlight, and wished she could believe that herself.

Breakfast was a quiet affair.

Not because of any tension, but because Cassie and the four boys sitting around the dining table just had a more pressing preoccupation that concerned food.

Cassie shoved a forkful of pancakes in her mouth and hid her obnoxious chewing behind a napkin as Mrs. Potter took the seat across from her, sipping her morning coffee. Mr. Potter sat at the head of the table, reading The Daily Prophet, the rustle of the paper breaking the silence occasionally, along with the scrape of forks against plates as the five teenagers in his house wolfed down their breakfast at an alarming rate.

"Anything interesting?" James asked from beside his mother, his mouth stuffed with eggs and potatoes. He jerked his chin to the newspaper in his father's hands.

Mrs. Potter gave a long-suffering sigh before her husband could reply. "James, dear, we've spoken about this. Please don't talk with your mouth full."

James frowned, though he swallowed at his mother's behest. Next to Cassie, Sirius made a motion with his wrist that resembled cracking a whip when James's parents weren't looking. Taking advantage of their blind eye, as his parents traded a significant look, James shot Sirius a vulgar gesture that had the latter snorting into his orange juice.

Cassie pretended not to notice the way Fleamont Potter glanced to her before speaking as Mrs. Potter turned away from her husband, lips pursed. Cassie knew that James's father was an Auror, but she didn't know whether he'd had any sort of interaction with Will prior to his trial and imprisonment. She hadn't bothered to ask, either; she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to know anyway.

"Nothing, aside from the usual." Mr. Potter was an older man; grey had overtaken the black in his hair – just as wild and unruly as his son's – and laugh lines and wrinkles were etched into his dark skin, but Cassie didn't think she'd ever seen him so aged before as he shook his head, frustration and exhaustion battling in his eyes. "More Muggle and Muggle-born attacks. More disappearances." His brown eyes – encircled by a pair of spectacles – cut to Cassie. "Claudia Carlisle has been reported as one of the missing."

Cassie's head snapped up. "What?" The last she heard, Carlisle was being treated in St Mungo's, after Cassie had nearly blown her head off using five wands on her former Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. She'd assumed Carlisle would have crawled back to Voldemort and her fellow Death Eaters by now if she was out of the hospital.

Mr. Potter took off his glasses, absentmindedly cleaning them with his shirt. "Carlisle was discharged from St Mungo's ten days ago," he said. He glanced to Cassie, then at the boys, his expression solemn. "What I am about to tell you all is highly confidential – it is not public knowledge as of yet. But seeing as it concerns you personally—" again, he looked at Cassie "—I will tell you. Please do not take this lightly."

They all nodded. Cassie waited, her throat tight, as Mr. Potter replaced his glasses and said, "Claudia Carlisle is dead. Her body was found abandoned on a riverbank up north. I won't give you any details but…Death Eaters are suspected." His mouth settled into a firm line. "Given what she tried to accomplish for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named this past year – and failing – it seems that her usefulness to him came to an end."

Cassie set down her fork, her hunger gone. Carlisle was dead. The witch who had tormented her all last year – had tried to kill her – was dead. Relief washed over her. Once, she may have pitied the fate the witch had met. But that was before Cassie had dealt with Voldemort. Before her parents had been murdered. Before Will. Now she felt nothing but relief and a cruel sort of satisfaction that she would never have to deal with Carlisle again.

She wondered what her mother would have thought at her lack of remorse.

She decided she didn't care. Not when Carlisle was unable to threaten her friends or her ever again.

Sirius brushed a hand across her knee, his eyes on her face. When she looked to him, she saw her own feelings reflected there: relief, and vindictive satisfaction. It made her chest loosen a bit, knowing that he wasn't looking at her and seeing a vengeful monster who delighted in her enemy's death. And after exchanging glances with the other Marauders, she knew they felt the same.

Cassie picked her fork up. "And any news from Dumbledore?"

She posed the question lightly, but Mr. Potter frowned at her. She shrugged at him half-heartedly; it wasn't entirely her fault that she knew too much about Dumbledore's plans and his secret army to oppose Voldemort and the Death Eaters – the Order of the Phoenix. Perhaps she'd pushed and prodded here and there for information, but most of her discovery had been accidental. Still, that didn't mean Mr. Potter – a confirmed Order member – approved of her knowledge. Especially when she, his son, and the others were already itching to join.

"You know I'm not allowed to divulge that information, Cassie," he said, face stern.

"Well, it was worth a shot," she said, helping herself to another bite of pancakes.

Mr. Potter shook his head in some exasperation. "You already know that the Ministry is in shambles. Minister Minchum puts on a good show to the public and the press, but everyone inside knows that his grip on You-Know-Who is slippery, at best. You-Know-Who's spies are everywhere." His face shadowed. "These are dark times. No one knows who to trust anymore. And I fear it's only getting worse."

Cassie shared a dark look with the Marauders. Their breakfast was forgotten, nearly cold, as they absorbed Mr. Potter's ominous words. Mrs. Potter cleared her throat.

"I think that's enough for one day, my love," she said, resting a delicate hand atop her husband's. "You'll be late for work if you stay any longer."

Mr. Potter nodded, seeming to shake off whatever worry weighed on him at his wife's touch. "Right you are, darling. I'd best be off." He stood from his seat and nodded to the five teenagers sitting around his table. "It would do well for you all not to dwell on these sorts of things. Be aware, but your priorities should be on school right now. Not fighting." He fixed them all with a serious gaze, his eyes lingering on Sirius and James more than the others. "Enjoy the time you have together. Try not to worry."

And with that, he bid them goodbye, stooping to kiss the top of James's head and ruffling his already wild hair before Mrs. Potter escorted him from the room and to the fireplace where he would Floo to the Ministry of Magic.

"I don't think I'm hungry anymore," Peter said, pushing his plate away from him with a faint expression.

Remus drummed his fingers on the table, lost in thought. "I can't believe Carlisle's dead."

Sirius snorted. "I can. The witch reaped what she sowed, in my opinion. I think we should celebrate."

Remus gave him a disapproving look, but James was nodding. "If her being killed means that she can't get to Cassie anymore, then I'll happily dance on her grave."

But Cassie was staring at her plate, contemplating. "Even if Carlisle is out of the picture, that doesn't mean that Voldemort has forgotten about me," she said. The bright, sunny room seemed to chill when she uttered the Dark Lord's name. She thought of the clockwork locket, hidden away upstairs, locked in the bottom of her trunk. "He knows that Will betrayed him by helping me – by giving me the locket that was meant for him. A gift from his ancestor. Salazar Slytherin."

The Marauders' faces hardened. She knew they were remembering that night in the Forbidden Forest, with the well and the Fountain of Youth, and Miranda finally getting her revenge on Slytherin for killing her lover, Cassie's own ancestor – Godric Gryffindor.

"We've been out of school for weeks," James said. "If he'd wanted to take the locket from you, he would've done it already."

"And there's no way he could know that the locket still exists," Remus pointed out. "You told Carlisle the truth at the time – it was destroyed. How could he know that it returned and that it came back to be in your possession?"

Remus's reasoning made sense, but Cassie couldn't shake the unease that clung to her like a dense fog. She had a feeling, deep down, that the locket's role was far from over in whatever grand scheme was unfolding. And if Voldemort still desired it for himself…

"Look what the owl post just dropped off!" Mrs. Potter sang as she swept back into the dining room, not noticing the tension between her son and his friends. She waved six individually addressed envelopes in her hand. Cassie frowned when she realized that two had her name. "O.W.L. results! Let's see!"

She handed out the envelopes with a beaming smile and sat back in her seat, watching them excitedly.

Cassie recognized the letter from Hogwarts by the seal and opened that one first, setting the other aside for the time being. Suddenly feeling as queasy as Peter looked, she unfolded the parchment that had been inside.

Ordinary Wizarding Level Results

Pass Grades:

Outstanding (O)

Exceeds Expectations (E)

Acceptable (A)

Fail Grades:

Poor (P)

Dreadful (D)

Troll (T)

Cassiopeia Marie Alderfair has achieved:

Astronomy (A)

Care of Magical Creatures (O)

Charms (E)

Defense Against the Dark Arts (O)

Herbology (E)

History of Magic (P)

Potions (E)

Transfiguration (EXEMPT)

Cassie stared at her results, her muscles relaxing further with each glance back over. She'd done better than she thought she had – a lot better. She ignored her History of Magic grade (it'd been a dreadfully boring class anyway, and she hadn't planned on taking the N.E.W.T. level courses for it) and Transfiguration, given that she'd gotten the news of her parents' deaths the night before that exam. But she'd passed everything else! And two "Outstandings" in Care of Magical Creatures and Defense Against the Dark Arts…

Sirius snorted, tossing his parchment on the table. "Passed everything besides Divination and History of Magic, but who cares about those? And two Outstandings in Defense and Transfiguration." He waggled his brows at Remus. "What about you, Mr. Perfect Prefect?"

Remus handed Sirius his own parchment, and Sirius groaned in disgust. "Of course. O's in everything. You sicken me."

"That's wonderful, Remus!" Mrs. Potter broke in. Remus flushed pink. "And you did a fantastic job as well, Sirius. Six O.W.L.'s are impressive!"

Sirius beamed. "Why, thank you, Mum."

Cassie looked to him, brows high. She was aware that Sirius considered James's parents more family than his own, but she'd never heard him call Mrs. Potter 'Mum'. Sirius didn't catch her eye, instead saying to Peter, "Cough up, Pete. You're being as quiet as a mouse."

Peter didn't even grin at the pun. "Failed History of Magic, Herbology, and Care of Magical Creatures," he said, dejected. "Barely scraped by in everything else."

"Ah, don't worry about it too much," Sirius said bracingly. "At least you passed fifth year!"

"Yeah." Peter didn't sound convinced, but Sirius turned to James.

"And?" he prompted.

James shrugged. "Not too shabby. I passed everything, even History of Magic. Transfiguration was exempted, of course." After Snape had sent him to the Hospital Wing. He grinned. "And I got an O for Defense."

"Oh, James dear, how lovely!" Mrs. Potter squealed. She got up and hugged her son tightly. James grimaced while his friends snickered. "All those O.W.L.'s! And now you're going to be in sixth year?" She sniffed, and James's expression shifted to one of utmost horror. "Where has the time gone? I remember when you were still just a pudgy little babe in my arms—"

James cleared his throat loudly. "Yeah, thanks, Mum. You can let go now."

Mrs. Potter squeezed her son one last time before she released him. James attempted to flatten his hair to no avail, his cheeks red.

"What about you, Cassie?" Mrs. Potter asked.

"O's in Defense and Care of Magical Creatures, E's in Charms, Herbology, and Potions, an A for Astronomy, and a P in History of Magic," she rattled off. She repeated James from earlier. "Not too shabby."

"That's great, dear," Mrs. Potter said. She nodded to Cassie's other letter. "That one's from the Ministry. I recognized the seal." She stood up. "I've got to message your father, James, and tell him about your stellar results. I'll see you all later for lunch."

Mrs. Potter departed, and Cassie was grateful for her prudent exit. She flipped the letter from the Ministry over in her hands, wondering what it could contain. The last time she'd received a letter from the Ministry, it had been a summons by the Wizengamot – an offer to attend her brother's trial. Not as a witness, but as a guest, to watch her brother be sentenced to life in Azkaban. She'd burned the letter and hadn't bothered to show up for the trial.

She looked up and found the Marauders watching her. She took a deep breath.

"Let's get this over with," she said and tore the envelope open. She scanned it quickly, reading through it twice just to be sure she hadn't missed anything, before setting it down and breathing out a sigh of relief.

"Well?" James said. "What is it? Who's it from?"

"A man named Newell Gorgon from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement." She tapped the parchment. "Apparently he was the one who presided over my parents' will, and wants to speak to me about it." She quirked her lips. "I guess I'll have to contact Liv. He'll want her present since she's my guardian."

"Will you have to go to the Ministry?" Remus asked.

"Probably." Cassie tapped the letter again. "He didn't say anything about a house call. Just to respond and let him know when I'm available."

She stifled a sigh. She'd put off any talk of her parents' will for as long as possible, due to the vast amounts of wealth, investments, properties, and equities she'd be forced to sift through. And not to mention all the legal jargon that would come with it. If Will were here, the responsibility would fall to him; but since he wasn't, she now had to deal with it.

She made a face at the letter. "Growing up sucks."

They all laughed, and any earlier tension was forgotten once James suggested they go back to the watering hole and swim for the afternoon. Cassie began to follow the others out to the grounds when Sirius held her back with a hand on her elbow.

She turned, brows raised in question, to see him gazing out at the patio and their friends beyond, racing into the lush green hills that covered most of the acreage of Potter Manor. A crease had appeared between his eyebrows – a sure sign that he was troubled – and his grey eyes were heavy with a hidden storm behind them.

"Can I show you something?" he asked.

"Of course," she said. She wondered if this had anything to do with his promise from last night about talking tomorrow as he led the way out of Potter Manor, circling around the large house until they came upon an old but spacious shed.

She gave him a sidelong glance. "This isn't some attempt to lure me somewhere private in order to undress me, is it?"

He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "You'll see."

Cassie's smirk faded. Sirius hadn't even responded to her flirtatious banter like he usually did. Something was definitely up with him.

They approached the shed. Though the masonry had seen better days, it still looked sturdy, and just as inviting as the rest of the Potters' home. Sirius unlatched the doors. They swung open to reveal a seldom-used space that just seemed like a place for extra storage, going by the dusty boxes and trunks shoved against the walls and the scattered bits of broken or damaged furniture perhaps too sentimental to throw out entirely. But what caught Cassie's attention was the rusty motorbike squatting in the midst of it all.

She instantly recognized the Muggle machine from the many pin-up posters Sirius had splattered on the walls of his bedroom at Grimmauld Place and Gryffindor dormitory, though fortunately, it was devoid of any scantily-clad supermodels. It looked old, its chrome pipes and handlebars stained with rust, and its leather seat cracked and aged. The headlight casing was splintered – as if someone had chucked a rock at it and broken it – and the tires were worn thin.

Cassie gave her boyfriend a skeptical look. "This is what you wanted to show me? A piece of Muggle junk?"

Sirius grinned, and some of the light had returned to his eyes as he patted the motorbike's seat. "This isn't just a Muggle piece of junk, Cass. This is my Muggle piece of junk."

"Uh, okay." She frowned. "That still doesn't explain why it's hanging out in the Potters' shed, or how it even came to be in your possession in the first place."

He stroked the motorbike with a lover's caress. "When James and I went into the city a few weeks ago, I saw it sitting on the side of the road, a For Sale sign stuck to its window. It was love at first sight." He grinned. "I brought it back here to fix it up. Maybe put some magical modifications on it. Who knows?" He shrugged. "All I know is that she's mine now."

Cassie felt a wry smile tug at her lips. "And does 'she' have a name?"

"Not yet. But I'll think of one." He studied the motorbike as if puzzling out just what he would name it, and Cassie's grin stretched into a smirk.

"It's funny; most girls are scared of the 'other woman' in relationships. But I never expected my competitor to be a motorbike."

Sirius chuckled. "Trust me; no one is replacing you. Not even this lovely bird."

Cassie circled the motorbike as Sirius wiped some grime from the handlebars with the hem of his shirt. There was something inherently masculine about the gesture that had her biting her lip, returning her gaze to the bike.

"What are you going to do with it?" she asked. "You can't take it home, obviously. Your parents would likely scalp you."

His face shuttered, his small smile flickering. "Yeah." He cleared his throat. "That's what I wanted to speak to you about."

Cassie was instantly worried. "Why? Did something happen at home?"

He chuckled humorlessly. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess you could say that."

"What happened?"

All the tension she had seen in him last night at the mention of his family returned. She could see it in the way that his muscles flexed, and his jaw clenched. He blew out a breath.

"If I show you something, will you promise not to freak out?"

"It depends on what it is."

He rubbed a hand down his face. "Cassie. I know how you are. You're the calmest person I know until you get angry. I'm just asking you not to fly into a rage or anything."

Her blood was already boiling, her mind whirring with the possibilities of what he was going to show her, but she forced herself to nod. "I promise."

He took a deep breath – bracing himself – before he grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it off in one swift motion. Any other time, Cassie probably would have started drooling at the canvas of smooth olive skin and sleek, toned muscles of her boyfriend's torso. But when she saw the angry red mark marring that flawless skin, gouged deep from his left pectoral to his right collarbone, and saw the shattered shame and pain in his eyes, something within her snapped.

Sirius was right. Cassie could be a calm, rational person. She usually was a majority of the time. But that wound on his body, a mark caused by only the most vicious and cruel magic, carved there by someone, intentionally, plunged her into a deep cavern of horror and fury.

"Who did this?" she asked quietly. She already knew the answer, could already guess who would be so malicious, but she wanted to hear him say it. Confirm it, so she could tear that witch into pieces with her bare hands.

Sirius smiled – a grim and bitter thing. "My mother dearest, of course."

The scar was brutal. Puckered and shiny with still-healing skin. It looked as if he'd let it knit closed by itself, without the aid of magic to heal it faster. Her blood turned red-hot.

"I'll kill her," she swore softly.

Despite the severity of the situation, despite the horrible scar, Sirius still half-smiled. "Are you ever going to tell me where you store all of that anger?"

"Don't make jokes," she snapped. She stalked to where he stood leaning against his bike. She laid her fingers on his scar, and he hissed, more from surprise at her touch than pain. The pink skin there was silky soft, but she could feel the ferocity, the viciousness, that leaked from the wound. Like whatever Dark magic had dealt the blow was still residing in him, festering.

"Why haven't you let someone heal it?" she demanded. "Your mother carved this into your flesh with Dark magic. Scars like this take longer to heal naturally when the Darkness is feeding on your negative emotions." She grit her teeth. "You shouldn't have to suffer, Sirius. Let Mrs. Potter take a look at it."

"It's a reminder," Sirius said. His fingers closed around her hand, pulling it gently away from the ugly wound. "It happened a week after your parents' funeral." His eyes traveled away from hers, looking beyond her – remembering. "I got into it with my mother. My father couldn't care less." He snorted. "He just sat there and watched, drinking his whiskey."

Cassie listened, twining her fingers with his own as he continued, still staring over her shoulder. Anger quivered in her bones, making her shake, but she clutched his hand tighter.

"It was the same rubbish as usual – how Muggles are filth and pure-bloods are superior. I made my usual remarks, my same arguments. But she didn't listen. And then she called your parents weak."

Cassie sucked in a sharp breath, feeling as if she'd been dealt a blow across her face.

"She said that if they'd joined with Voldemort, that if they'd taken a stronger stance on either side – Light or Dark, equality or blood superiority – instead of lingering in the Grey, then they'd still be alive. And that your brother wouldn't have had to kill them for being cowards.

"I was furious. I got my wand out, and she laughed at me. Too much wine. She'd always drank too much wine."

He trembled in her grasp. Silver lined his eyes.

"She said that she was disappointed in me – first for being in Gryffindor, then for not acting like the perfect pure-blood like my brother." He scowled. "She said that she could overlook my blood traitor and half-blood friends – mongrels, she called them. That there was still time to mold me into a noble Black. But she called you a coward's daughter. And I snapped.

"I didn't curse her, but Merlin, I wish I had. I told her – told them – that I was done being a Black. That I was sick of our family, and every sadist and egoist in it. I grabbed my things. Told them I was going to James's, and that I wasn't coming back. And my mother just laughed. Laughed, and said that I wasn't a true Black – that I never could be. That my blood was dirty, tainted." He shuddered. "She said she wanted to see what color I would bleed before I left. If it was red or mud." He spat the word. "So she cut me open. Let me stand there and bleed out like a pig while she ranted about – awful things. Vile things. Things I don't even want to repeat."

He closed his eyes, and a single tear slipped out, sliding down his pale cheek.

"I begged Reg to come with me," he whispered. "Got down on my knees and begged. I didn't want to leave him behind, Cassie – to rot in that place, with Mother whispering into his ear, filling his head with lies and twisted things. But he said he couldn't – go with me. That he had to stay."

Something in Cassie's chest cracked. It reminded her of what she'd said to Will before. How she'd begged him to stay with her, to run away with her.

Sirius clenched her hand so tightly it hurt, but she didn't say anything as he went on.

"I ran away, Cassie. I've been living with James ever since these last few weeks. No doubt I'm disowned now." He gritted his teeth. "I'm so sorry – for telling you like this. But after everything with your parents, Will…I didn't want you to worry about me. I didn't – want you to feel sorry for me."

"No," she murmured. She reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, bringing him close, mindful of his injury. She'd seen him cry once – this past year when he'd admitted that he was lost and didn't know what he was doing with his life. It had frightened her then, but this time she only felt a fierce need to protect wash over her. She brushed her fingers through his hair as he dropped his head on her shoulder and gave in, breaking down. "Shh. It's okay. It's okay."

"I left him," he said, his voice raw through his tears. "I left him in there, Cassie. I left him with those – snakes."

"Regulus will be fine," she said. "He's strong, Sirius. He'll be all right." She thought of the younger Black brother. The Slytherin who fought for no side but his own. "Regulus knows who he is. How to take care of himself." She hugged him tighter. "You were right to leave, Sirius. You were suffocating in that place. Your family – your mother – was killing you."

Sirius drew back slightly from her, his eyes wet. Tears clung to his lashes, but he stared at Cassie like he'd never seen her before.

"How do you do it?" he asked, voice hoarse. "How can you see every part of me and not run from it?"

The question was unexpected, but Cassie's answer came quickly to her.

"Because I'm not afraid of you, Sirius Black," she said, cupping his face. "I see you, and I am not afraid."

"I see you too," he whispered and crushed his mouth to hers.

The tears on his face rubbed off on her, but she didn't care, too busy twining her fingers in his hair and pulling him closer to notice. Sirius kissed her with feverish intensity, his hands moving so freely, so explicitly, as if he'd been tasked to carve every inch of her out of marble from memory.

As Sirius moved to her neck, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin there, Cassie's eyes fluttered open – and found someone watching them.

A dark-haired woman – that was all she saw before she blinked, and the woman was gone.

Sirius felt her go rigid in his arms and stopped immediately.

"What's wrong?" he said. "Cassie? I'm sorry. Did I do something, go too fast…?"

"Did you see her?" she asked, cutting off his rambling.

Sirius went pale. "Mrs. Potter?"

"No." Cassie walked over to the spot by the shed's one dingy window where she had seen the woman, inspecting. No footprints, no disturbed dust. Had she imagined her? "Someone else. A young woman with dark hair."

Sirius looked to the window. "Are you sure it wasn't just your reflection?"

Cassie shook her head.

"Miranda?" he suggested.

She frowned. "Maybe."

"But you don't think so."

She turned, sighing. "Do I sound mental?"

He smirked. "Cass, everything about your life is mental."

"Point taken."

"C'mon," Sirius said, offering her his hand. "Let's get out of here. Maybe this place is haunted or something."

"If only it were that easy," she muttered, but took his hand anyway.

She still thought about the dark-haired woman, even when she went to sleep that night.

Next Chapter: The Heir